#(and shot them at all the sick kids which didn’t exactly cure them but definitely kept them guessing)

[onioneyez]

a red sock unraveled in my laundry and the one long thread tangled all through my sheets made it look like I accidentally put my true love through the wash

[felidaefighter]

Fears To Ease And Flesh To Mend

Ranboo and Tubbo find out that unzombifying a piglin is a bit different from unzombifying a villager, and they start off parenthood with quite a few complications and in a little over their heads. For the sake of their child, they may need to put awkwardness aside and ask for help.

[Sick fic, canon divergence, Phil and Techno meet Michael, lots and lots of piglin lore headcanons] ~20,000 words per chapter

Chapter Three of Four

     Ranboo knocked lightly on the door, and Tubbo opened it almost immediately, greeting him with a giant yawn. “Hi, Tubbo,” Ranboo said fondly. “Hi, Ranboo,” Tubbo replied through his yawn. Phil cleared his throat awkwardly from behind him. “Uh, hello, Tubbo. We haven’t… spoken in a while. Techno is here too.” Tubbo stared dead-eyed exhausted at him from inside, still holding the door open. “Yeah, been a while. Don’t think we’ve talked since you blew up L’Manberg.” Phil and Techno both made awkward grimacing noises, as Ranboo did the same. Tubbo rolled his eyes. “I’m letting all the cold air in. Might as well come inside. Michael’s room is upstairs.”

    As the three of them stepped in from the chill and shook off the frost from their coats and the snow from their boots, Ranboo looked at Tubbo, concerned. “You don’t look like you slept.” Tubbo shook his head. “Not really. I dozed off a few times in the armchair upstairs but I was too worried.” Ranboo nodded empathetically. He would’ve done the same. “Up the ladder,” Tubbo said, gesturing, clearly too tired for proper emphasis. Ooh boy. Looks like Ranboo was going to have to do most of the talking. Which was an issue, as Ranboo wasn’t too good at that.

    Ranboo was the second up the ladder, and could feel himself grow soft as soon as he laid eyes on his son. He greeted the little piglin, who, although still clearly not feeling great, acknowledged him in return. Phil, then Techno, stepped into the room, Phil treading ever-so-lightly with both his feet and his demeanor. Phil let out a sharp inhale and a wince when he saw Michael. “Ooohh. That’s a lot of bandages.” He inspected the situation as well as he could from across the room. “You did a good job of wrapping it. We’re gonna have to unwrap them all to make sure it’s been properly cleaned though unfortunately.” Tubbo swore under his breath at that, but he didn’t mean it harshly. It’d just taken them a long time to wrap.

    “Quite a lot of battle scars,” Techno remarked. If Ranboo was honest, their cautiousness wasn’t easing his worries as well as he’d have hoped it would. He moved subconsciously to Tubbo’s side; they were both feeling a little under scrutiny when faced with Phil and Techno, experts at this, and the worry they’d done something wrong. “May I?” Phil gestured to Michael as Techno leaned against a wall, and Tubbo nodded, Ranboo humming his approval. He stepped closer to the little piglin and crouched down beside the bed. Michael snorted at him. “Heyyy Michael,” Phil said softly, “I’m Philza. I’m gonna take off your bandages to look at your wounds now, okay?” 

    “I dunno why you’re tellin’ him in english. He probably only knows piglin right now,” Techno said, grinning when that earned him a harsh shush from Phil. “No comments from the peanut gallery unless you’re gonna help!” Phil very, very carefully unwrapped the bandage on Michael’s head, who was either too tired or too polite to try and stop him. He held a steadying hand on the other side of Michael’s head while he looked at the eyesocket, the edges of his flesh, and the place his ear used to be. Phil turned to Tubbo and Ranboo, who immediately squeezed eachother’s hands a bit nervously. Huh. Ranboo supposed they must’ve done that subconsciously. Definitely blaming the nerves for that one. 

    “You two did a pretty good job. He’s responsive and seems to have a general idea of where he is. I can’t say yet if there’s any internal damage, but he’s definitely been properly cured. I doubt there’s much you could’ve done to change the extent of his sores, too.” Ranboo and Tubo both exhaled in very obvious relief. Phil stood up with a bit of a stretching noise, and shot a pointed look at Techno. “You wanna make sure everything’s alright, mate?” Techno, very alarmed at having been put in the spotlight despite the audience in question being two socially awkward and exhausted teens, his best friend, and a half-dead toddler, immediately started to protest. 

    “You can’t test his cognitive skills without knowing where his language is at,” Phil prodded, teasing, “And you know my piglish sucks.” Techno hummed in thought, a little persuaded by the chance to brag/show off. “That is true.” Still, he seemed hesitant. “It’s ah-- it’s gonna be a little awkward since I’m not too great with kids and it’s been a while since I spoke piglish. Does this have to have an audience?” 

    “Yes.” Tubbo answered flatly. “Tubbo!” Chided Phil, but Ranboo didn’t exactly blame his husband. “I mean… you wouldn’t do anything to Michael, right?” Ranboo asked Techno, who looked rather offended at the question. “Of course not! Who do you take me for? I mean, Michael clearly isn’t an orphan anymore,” Techno joked to try to ease the tension, but while Ranboo nodded in acknowledgement and in an attempt at reassurance towards Tubbo, Tubbo narrowed his eyes. “Fine. But I’ve got my eye on you. You so much as move the wrong way and you’re going down.” 

    Phil muttered reassurances about Techno’s intentions at Tubbo while he gently placed his hands on Tubbo’s shoulders, leading him away and down the ladder. Ranboo sent one last, concerned glance towards Techno. “I won’t do anything,” Techno promised, “Except maybe ask him how he feels about government. But I doubt he’s gonna know what that is yet.” Ranboo nodded again and went down the ladder after Phil and Tubbo.

    Tubbo, as exhausted as he was, leaned on the wall by the ladder looking prepared to gain a second wind and scramble upstairs in a hurry if necessary. Ranboo was almost certain it wouldn’t be, but he felt a surge of love on seeing how dedicated and protective his husband could be. Phil hovered in the main area, not quite finding a seat, and spoke to the two more in-depth about Michael’s recovery.

    “Unfortunately, this isn’t the kind of thing that’s gonna heal overnight. Like I said before, he’s already been kinda oversaturated with magic just from his origin, so potions aren’t gonna seal up everything all nice and tidy.” Phil paced lightly while he spoke out of lack of something to fiddle with. Tubbo’s eyes watched him like a hawk, but his ears were most certainly more centered on making sure there was no commotion upstairs. 

    “The biggest concern is gonna be the parts of his skull that’re currently exposed,” Phil continued. “Keepin’ ‘em bandaged should be mostly fine, but you should disinfect it about three times daily with room temperature cloth. Not washed or anything, just pat him down. You’ll want to put a salve on there and the skin around the edge, too, so that when it heals the skin can grow back over. It’ll be scar tissue but it’ll keep him from coming down with anything. That’ll be best for the long run.” Ranboo scrambled to write all of what Phil was saying down, eager for the information.

    “Question, okay, uh, is there a certain type of each thing that we’ll need? And if so, where do I get it, or can I borrow it from you?” Phil chuckled lightly, and combined with the non-judgemental onslaught of information, both Ranboo and Tubbo both were starting to relax. “Of course you can mate,” Phil replied fondly, “You need it more than I do right now. I can go on an errand run for you both after Techno’s done here.” He turned sympathetically to Tubbo at that. “You look like you could use some rest.”

    Tubbo sighed, finally letting his guard down a little. “Honestly, I probably would’ve been asleep ages ago if I weren’t so damn worried about Michael. I reckon I could’ve fell asleep standing up a few times and wouldn’t’ve known.” Ranboo nodded in understanding. The only reason he hadn’t been stopped from sleeping is because he tended to run on anxiety almost all of the time anyways. It looked like he was going to be spending most of his time in the coming weeks running back and forth between his own house and Snowchester; he didn’t mind, though. 

    “Thank you, Phil. Honestly, thank you.” Ranboo paused before asking the one thing that had mainly been on his mind. “I’m just surprised that you and Techno aren’t--” Phil interrupted abruptly. “The health and safety of a child will always come first.” After realizing his tone was a little harsh, he sighed and continued more carefully. “Techno and I feel how we feel. We haven’t really had a chance to process anything yet. Give us a bit to do that first yeah?” 

    Ranboo nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. That makes sense, actually. Of course.” Tubbo, having figured out what that was all about, spoke up. “I was wondering about that!” A second wave of realization hit him and he turned to Ranboo. “Wait, you told them???” He hissed in a lowered voice. “My son lives at your house! I think they woulda figured it out!” Ranboo replied in the same tone. “Our son!” Tubbo corrected, half-offended. In the background, Phil was covering his mouth, stifling a chuckle at the bickering couple. 

    They were interrupted when heavy footsteps came down the ladder, and instantly parted to make way for the large piglin. Techno turned to Ranboo. “He’s a toddler, so like, his words? Ain’t really that great to begin with. But uh cognitively I think he’s doin’ fine. He can understand and respond to most questions at least, even if his responses tend to be ninety percent gibberish. At any rate it probably won’t be tough to teach him english. Toddlers man. They’re fast learners.” It was very obvious the only thing stopping him from making a joke about drop-kicking toddlers was Tubbo’s death glare and how awkward he already felt about the whole business.

    Phil clapped his hands together. “Right! Well, Techno and I are gonna head back home, and I’ll run that delivery for you. Remember what I said about re-wrapping and applying the ointments and salve and stuff. Don’t worry too much about his ear canal yet, I’ll get some drops, and make sure he’s eating slowly and steadily throughout the day as opposed to regular mealtimes. I’ll be back later. You two have got this for now, yeah?” 

    Ranboo and Tubbo, rather startled at the abruptness of it all, hummed and muttered agreements and nodded while Ranboo double-checked he’d written that all down. “Goodbye Tubbo. Ranboo,” Techno said, following Phil out the door. As it shut behind them, Ranboo turned to the smaller man. “Should we follow them out?” Tubbo had almost immediately closed his eyes and went back to resting against the ladder. “I want to,” he said, and Ranboo understood. Knowing Tubbo’s house as well as his own, he retrieved a bedroll, blanket, and pillow from a chest, hauling them up to Michael’s room, and then went downstairs and retrieved his husband. 

    He kind of just dropped Tubbo on the pile, who stayed exactly where he’d landed. “Sleep,” Ranboo intoned, and Tubbo groaned in response. He was asleep almost moments later. Ranboo sighed fondly, and glanced at Michael. The little piglin was asleep as well. He paused. There was a serenity in the moment, his own little family all worn out from a day of healing. As silently as possible, he pulled the blankets over them both, then settled into the armchair to watch over them.

[twothumbsandnostakeincanon]

hey remember three hours ago when I said we should have more abortion fic WELL GUESS WHAT

“Ugh. Ughhhh. Ughhhhhhhh.” 

Peter raised an eyebrow. 

“Everything alright, darling?”

“Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

Chris turned to look over now too. 

“Sweetheart?”

Stiles rolled over on the couch, revealing a distinctly queasy face. 

“I’m never going to be done with this flu. I’m going to be sick forever.”

Peter’s brow furrowed more deeply, reaching up to rub at Stiles’ feet as Chris came to crouch by Stiles’ head to check his temperature. 

“I thought you were feeling better,” Chris said, a question in his voice.

“I was, for most of the day, but just like the last few nights, as soon as I finished eating dinner it was like Kill Bill sirens going off in my stomach.” Stiles reached up to rub his eyes. “I’m still so fucking tired, too. Peter give me the bite so I don’t have the flu anymore.” 

“I can’t,” Peter said as he focused on pressure points that would hopefully help. “I’m not an Alpha and you said I’m not allowed to murder for power without getting permission first.” 

“I give you permission. I give you permission to murder anyone you want if it means I won’t feel like barfing anymore.” 

“As co-leader of the permission board, I’m pulling your authority to give permission,” Chris said, running a soothing hand through Stiles’ hair. 

“Based on what?” Stiles replied, trying to sound indignant despite lacking the energy to make it work.

“Altered state of mind due to illness.”

“Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” 

A few minutes later, Stiles gave in and just went to bed early, declaring his body to be, “Too full of shit fuck and bastard to be conscious.”

Peter and Chris heard the bedroom door close from the living room. Chris glanced at Peter, finding his expression tense. 

“He’s been pretty nauseous for the last week,” Chris said quietly. “More tired too.” 

Peter looked back at him, lips pursed. 

“He’s been saying that he thinks he needs a new binder too, because his chest hurts lately.” 

They both looked at each other, silent for a few moments. 

“How many times did he get up to pee during dinner?” Chris asked, even though they both knew the answer.” 

Peter swore under his breath and then got up, grabbing his keys. 

“Clearblue?” he suggested.

“Early Response,” Chris countered. “I think he’s still a couple days off from a missed period.” 

Peter swore again and then left the house. 

__________

Stiles took the stick into the bathroom the next morning with an eye roll. 

“It’s just the flu you guys. You’re being ridiculous.” 

“Just humor us, baby,” Chris said, chivying him into the en suite. 

Five minutes later, Stiles walked out of the bathroom, brow furrowed. 

“Two lines means not pregnant, right?”

That was Not Right. 

Stiles sat in the middle of their king sized bed, stunned. Chris was on the phone, rescheduling all his meetings for the day, and Peter was making a list of every cure for morning sickness (or in Stiles’ case, evening sickness) that he could find. Eventually Chris finished and hung up, bringing the motion and sound of the room to a standstill. 

Everyone looked at each other silently for a moment. 

“Oh goddamnit,” Stiles burst out, hopping off the bed and making a beeline for the bathroom again. “I haven’t even had anything to drink yet today!” 

Chris sat on the bed with a huff as they waited for Stiles to finish. He and Peter eyed each other warily, both unsure of how to begin the conversation.

Once Stiles came back, he climbed back up on the bed between his two boyfriends and clapped his hands once, rubbing them together. 

“So! There is… an embryo. Living in me. Living a little embryonic life. It’s already been a zygote, a morula, and a blastocyst. I think there are some other stages between that and embryo, but you’ll have to forgive my lapse in memory, because apparently I’m fucking pregnant oh my god.”

Chris and Peter both reached over to hug him, ending up with everyone dragged down into a cuddle pile in the middle of the bed. Stiles was breathing a little too quickly for comfort, but he wasn’t shaking and he wasn’t crying- just repeating oh my god oh shit oh my god under his breath as he tried to calm down. 

“How do we even figure out whose it is?” Stiles wondered out loud. 

“Does… that matter?” Peter asked slowly. 

Stiles shrugged as wildly as he could while pressed between the two others. 

“I don’t know! I’ve never done this before! I don’t know anything! I don’t-” He bit his tongue, cutting off any more words for a moment before he continued. “I feel like… what happens next isn’t just my decision, is it? Whoever- whoever’s sperm won the marathon should have like. Some input. Right?”

Chris cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

“Well. It’s your body. Even though one of us, uh…”

“Knocked you up,” Peter supplied helpfully. 

“-Well, yes. Even though one of us did that, it’s still going to be your uterus, and your morning sickness, and your possible gestational issues, and your possible dysphoria, and your labor and delivery-”

“Yeah, yes, alright,” Stiles cut him off, breathing a little faster again. 

Chris spoke more quietly as he said, “It’s about whether you want to be pregnant, or do any of the things that come after pregnancy, Stiles.”

“I don’t,” Stiles blurted. 

It was like the balloon of tension in the room had been popped. 

Everyone sighed in relief. 

“I don’t want to be pregnant. I don’t want kids. Not right now, maybe not ever? I don’t know, but I definitely don’t want this right now.” 

“Oh thank God,” Peter said. “I don’t either.”

Chris leaned forward and kissed Stiles on his forehead. 

“Then we’ll support you.” 

“What about you?” Stiles asked nervously. 

“What about me?” Chris asked back, eyebrow raised. 

Stiles rolled onto his side so that Peter was draped over his back, peering over his shoulder to look at Chris too. 

“Well,” he said. “Of the three of us, you’re the only one with real parenthood experience. Do you… I don’t want to make it sound like I’m suggesting a replacement daughter, but is that something you want to do again someday? Is it something you think about?”

Chris was silent for a moment, not really looking at anything as he tried to organize his heart into thoughts. 

“Being a father was the most important thing in my life,” he eventually said. “Which is exactly why I’m sure that if you don’t want to be one, then you shouldn’t be one. If I did have another child, I would love that one as much as I loved Allison- but it’s not something I’m looking for. It’s not something I need. It’s an idea that scares the shit out of me, if I’m being honest.” Stiles sagged in relief, and Chris’ eyes crinkled in a smile as he leaned forward to kiss his forehead again. “We’re all fine, Stiles. Everything is going to be fine.” 

Stiles grabbed Peter’s hand as he wiggled forward, bringing him with him to condense their snuggle sandwich closer to Chris. 

“I guess I’ll call Planned Parenthood then,” Stiles mumbled into Chris’ chest as Peter quietly rumbled at his back. 

“The one you went to when you were looking into hormone therapy?” Peter questioned.

“Yeah, they’re chill, and I think they do in-clinc abortions on Wednesdays. Or like, every other Wednesday? Maybe one Wednesday a month?” 

They called, and scheduled the procedure for the first available appointment in three weeks. 

(On a Friday.)

They used the rest of their morning to cuddle, and plan what Stiles was calling “Yeet the Embryo Day.” 

It wasn’t until they got up for lunch that Peter said, “Technically, you were right last night.”

A crease appeared in Stiles’ forehead. 

“Right about what?”

“We’re not married. Your body is full of bastard.” 

__________

Three weeks later, Stiles was propped on the couch with his head in Peter’s lap, feet in Chris’ lap, and a heating pad on his own lap. 

“How are you feeling, baby?” Peter asked, stroking the skin on Stiles’ neck as he drew some of the pain away. “I can’t help too much otherwise we might miss the signs of complications.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles said, voice a little drowsy. “I’m okay anyway. My cramps aren’t too bad. Honestly,” he continued with a pointed look at Chris, “my hip hurts more than anything else.” 

Chris rolled his eyes with a crooked smile. 

“I apologize, again, for my blood type.”

“Whatever, Mr. Rh positive,” Stiles shot back. “We were almost out of there. The procedure was over! But noooo, someone had to bring up that I’m O negative-”

“I’m O negative too,” Peter said smugly, happy to be on the “not my fault” side of things. 

“Exactly!” Stiles exclaimed. “You might have been the one that got me pregnant! We don’t even know that the embryo had Chris’ weird little supply of A positive blood-” 

“Stiles, you said yourself that you don’t know whether or not you want to have kids someday,” Chris reminded him. “The RhoGAM just prevents your body from automatically attacking any future embryos, okay? Just in case.” 

“They let a nursing student give me the shot, Chris.” 

“You could have said no.” 

“I didn’t want to be rude!” 

Chris just leaned over to give him a kiss.

“What if we replace the boring bandaid with a Batman one after your shower?” 

Stiles immediately brightened up. 

“Yeah! God. It’s so good we’re not having a baby. More Batman bandaids for me.”

[hazinhoodies]

No Love Lost (Part 1)

Harrison Osterfield x CF!Reader

A/N: uh hi. so this is a lot. this was going to be a one-shot originally but then it hit 15k words so here’s some of that. I did as much research into cystic fibrosis as i could (thats what cf means btw). Thanks to @loverholland who helped me edit this (and future parts). Also this is my submission for @starksparker summer writing challenge. I had the prompt of “I know you. What’s wrong” and its used pretty bad but this will make up for it hopefully. its a whole mess of aus. there some fuck boy in there, some best friend. brace for impact.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: talk of death, talk of hospitals, talk of sickness, swearing,  messing with tenses, a ridiculous amount of parentheticals (yes they’re supposed to be there), cheesy writing

Harrison was sweet. You had to admit it. One of the nicest people you’d ever come by. He was your best friend all throughout school, he stuck by you through all the coughing fits, your plethora of medicines, and the multiple times you’d caught bronchitis or something along those lines, not to mention all the other things that come with being a teen in high school; drama, puberty, stress. You were insanely thankful that he put up with all his own problems as well as yours, health or otherwise, and everything that came with having cystic fibrosis.

You were diagnosed at five, after the third time you’d caught pneumonia. Most people are diagnosed before the age of two but either a) you weren’t screened for it at birth or b) your doctors missed something. Just your luck.

You didn’t really know what it meant at first. Just that now you had to take these medicines, pills, and use inhalers (which hurt on bad days). Your favourite part was always the gummy vitamin that you had to -no, got to- take. You heard your mom talking about how important it was that you cleared your airway every day and that you did some of, if not all, the exercise the doctors wanted you to take. They made your lungs burn.

Your mother, however, felt guilty. She blamed herself for your sickness, but her guilt was helping no one affected. She should’ve known that you were growing too slowly and that your breathing problems weren’t normal. She feels horrible.

But if she had and you’d been diagnosed earlier or later or exactly when you were, you would still have cystic fibrosis.

You started to understand what it was at the age of eleven after you’d decided to research it yourself. You knew better than to WebMD it. Long since being diagnosed, you weren’t looking for a cure, just an understanding of what this meant for you.

You found out too much. Things that you were certain a normal 11 year old wouldn’t know about. But you weren’t normal. Anything but.

You found out that the average person with cystic fibrosis died at the age of 37, it’s most common in Northern Europe and least common in Africans and Asians. Although not recognized until the 1930s, certain aspects of cystic fibrosis were identified as early as 3,000 BC, likely due to the migration of people, gene mutations and nourishment. One in Four people have cystic fibrosis. About eighty percent of people with cystic fibrosis die from it. There’s no known cure, if there is one at all.

Your first (and only, so far) double lung transplant happened about a year later. You remember the feeling of knowing something was wrong too vividly. Headed down the stairs, your twelve year old self had already run through your extensive morning routine but you couldn’t shake the feeling of something caught in your lungs. You had to breathe through your mouth to feel like you were getting anywhere near enough oxygen.

“Have you cleared your airways yet” Your mother had asked upon hearing how rough your voice sounded when combined with how much your chest heaved when you breathed. You nodded and she asked you to go to it again. It was on your way back down the steps when it had become instantly more difficult to breathe. Calling for your mom, your voice was weak and wheezed its way through the words. It felt like you were suffocating. You gripped the stair railing tight in your hand as you felt your vision start to tunnel. With whatever luck you still had, you made it to the bottom of the stairs without collapsing and she rushed you to the hospital.

You don’t know what they did to make it better temporarily but you remember being hooked up to all sorts of antibiotics to slow the mucus build up while they found a pair of lungs for you. A month later and they had found a pair. You spent the next while in the hospital from the surgery while the doctors monitored you.

Lung transplants either work or they don’t. There’s no in between. No ‘it works but could be better’. They do, or they don’t.

Your mother would tell you when you were older that yours almost didn’t work. You almost didn’t wake up, but you wouldn’t remember any of it when she told you so.

You were overjoyed when you got to go back to school, you knew you weren’t healed, you still had cystic fibrosis, but you were doing better. That’s when you met Harrison.

With Harrison, you felt like you could be somewhat. He didn’t know about your CF at the time, you held it back to not drive him away. You suppressed coughs as much as you could. He was good though. A good person, a kind soul. So good that when you were with him, you were normal. You felt like a normal kid. You forgot about the multiple inhalers that sat on the bathroom counter and the bottles of pills next to them. You forgot about the doctors, and your enzymes or lack thereof. With Harrison, you forgot you were dying.

He started to get curious when you were missing school a lot and played it off as a cold when you would cough a lot at one time, but Harrison isn’t an idiot and you’re his friend; he knew something was up.

So you told him. You told him you had cystic fibrosis. He seemed confused so you continued on. You explained that while it also affects your pancreas, intestines, and kidneys, it meant your lungs were weak and prone to infection. Mucus builds up inside your lungs and other parts of your respiratory system. You told him that if your lungs get worse then you’ll likely need a transplant.

He nodded along and promised that he understood but you knew he didn’t fully understand what it meant, just as you had.

You didn’t tell him you were dying.

Not then. Not at all.

He’d found out on his own that it meant you were dying. You never asked how. The pair of you were in your living room at the age of fourteen, in the middle of a game of Mario Party. The computer Boo was winning. You could tell that something was bothering him but weren’t sure if it was something to ask about, you did anyway.

“Haz? What’s bothering you?” You spoke as the Luigi on the screen moved 6 spaces.

“Nothing, I’m fine” He stared distantly towards the screen, it’s more likely he’s looking past it.

“And lying. I know you. What's wrong?" No response. "Harrison, tell me” You refused to press any buttons, letting the die on the screen roll above your characters head until he gave you an answer.

Harrison looked down into his lap, fumbling with some of the buttons on the remote. His voice comes out small and meek, “You’re dying”

“No, I’m not,” Some weird instinct told you to lie about it and protect his feelings, but the glimmer of hope he had when he looked at you made you wish that you hadn’t said that. “I mean, I am. But I’m not bad” You hesitate on ‘bad’, unsure of how you want to phrase things. You knew you had to be careful of what you say. “I’m not even on a transplant list yet,” His expression shifted to worry, “It’s a good thing” He somewhat relaxed. “It means that I’m managing it well. And I am. I take care of myself, take all the medication I need to. It’s a lot but I do it”

The look on his face made your heart go soft. Somewhere between worry and relief, happy and sad.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner” You whispered, your gaze falling to the floor. You felt bad about telling him, that’s for sure. But for once you wanted to be normal.

“It’s okay,” Harrison’s voice was almost as quiet as yours, the overly happy game music playing in the background (it really didn’t help with the mood). He looked over at you and your expression made his heartbreak. “Hey,” he grabbed your attention, “This doesn’t change anything. No love lost, yeah?”

You nodded. “What I meant is that you don’t have to worry about me” That was the end of it. You rolled a five.

The next few months saw a shift in your relationship. It’s not that you spent any less time together, quite the opposite actually. Harrison wanted to spend so much time with you, most of which consisted of the two of you doing anything either of you could think of. More games of Mario Party (you won more often, he’d say he let you but he definitely didn’t), going out for food, bowling, laser tag, you name it.

He also took care of you. No matter how much you said you didn’t need it and you didn’t want to bother him, you’d get text messages at the same time every day asking if you’d taken your enzymes, or cleared your airways, or if you were close to running out of anything.

Harrison was sweet. He was sweet to you and you couldn’t be more thankful.

High school came and the world watched on as the two of you grew closer than ever. He was there as soon as he could be whenever you were in the hospital and even if you weren’t, he was at your house or you were at his as much as you could be.

Looking back, you weren’t sure how you didn’t see it.

While you were still Harrison’s best friend, he spent time with a lot of other girls. You weren’t dumb. You saw the way they looked at him. Their looks were anything from ogling or as if he was the moon. Their never-ending night light. The one that lit up the dark for them.

It was cheesy and sometimes (usually) gross, but he never looked at them that way. Even while his arm was wrapped around them in the halls he was either making some joke towards you (you’d say he was bullying you, but you weren’t that hurt) or laughing at something someone else had said or done.

Every two weeks there was a different girl on his arm. It didn’t really make sense to you. He was so nice and caring towards you but then these girls that he claimed to have feelings for barely got a second glance from him.  Even still, part of you wanted to be in their position, if only for the title that came with it.

You fell in love with Harrison slowly. Like when you come home late and don’t want to wake anyone, so you shut the door precariously, even the small click after it’s shut is too loud. Or like waiting for a flower to grow. Checking on it until you saw the first sprout and then the first leaf.

Your sudden realization, your ‘click’, was when you’d heard one of the girls talking about him after they’d ended things. You weren't sure if you could call it a breakup, we’re they even official? Who knows.

Water ran from the tap in the bathroom as you washed your hands, you couldn’t help but listen to the conversation she was having on the far side of the room. It was whispered and sobbed but you still managed.

“What’d he say?” Her friend, you thought her name was Olivia, places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“He just said he didn’t feel anything for me anymore” Harrison ex-thing, her name was Erica, (she was one of the “you are the moon” starers) barely got out the last word before sobs racked her body, her upper body and torso shook forcefully with each one. She was really hurt. “Said that there was something about someone else. I don’t get it. It was three weeks how could there be someone else”.

If it was three weeks then why are you so worked up over it? You fought not to roll your eyes.

“Erica, I told you that he was a bad idea. I told you that he’d hurt you. And you still…” Olivia trailed off with a sigh. Some best friend.

“I don’t know. Maybe I thought I could change him or something. Fuck, I don’t know. He’ll always be a fuckboy I guess. Can’t wait to see who he’s got next week” Sarcasm drenched her words. She sniffled, wiping her eyes.

You dried off your hands and left the bathroom.

It hurts to hear people talk so horrendously about your best friend. That wasn’t the Harrison that you knew, the Harrison you knew was gentle and caring and wore his heart on his sleeve. What about you made him that different?

Harrison came over that night, you helped him with his English paper and then the two of you retreated to doing your own things on your phones. He laid on your bed and you used his stomach as a pillow, lying perpendicular to him. Your legs hung off the bed a little, but you didn’t care.

The room was silent for at least fifteen minutes with the exception of the odd chuckle followed by the other asking to look at whatever it was they laughed at. That was until you piped up. Your mindless scrolling only lasts so long before you fall into your own thoughts.

“Heard Erica talking about you in the bathroom today” You let your hand fall to your chest, phone facedown against your sternum. Harrison didn’t really talk about the girls he was involved with. At least not with you. You weren’t sure why but never pressed.

“Yeah? What’d she say?” His eyes didn’t leave his phone.

“She was talking to Olivia, I think it was Olivia. The one who sits next to Tom in English”

“Yeah, Olivia” Harrison confirmed.

“Yeah her. And she -Erica-  was saying about how you broke up with her and said that there was someone else. And then Olivia said something about how she warned her not to go for you because you’re a bad idea and you’d only hurt her and shit like that”  

“Sounds like Liv” Harrison chimes in.

“Then Erica said that she thought she could change you or something like that? I don’t know. It was just weird to hear them talk so bad about you when what I see is the polar opposite” You started your scrolling again.

“People talk Y/N. She was just upset I guess. That’s okay” You nodded and there was a moment of silence

“Just out of curiosity. Why do you go through girls so fast?”

“I just don’t feel anything with them really. I know what I want, and sadly it’s things that I don’t think they’d ever be able to give, or have, or be”

“What do you want?” Your question threw him off guard and he had to pause for a second.

“I want pure love. It’s not driven by lust. A kind of love where I don’t have to worry about what I look like or how I act around them because I know they’ll love me just the same. One where we have electric conversations one moment and then the next we’re in silence but it’s fine. Because it’s comfortable. I want to have a connection. I want the kind of love where you’d die for the other person. I’d die for a love like that. And it’s something that I don’t think I could get from Erica or Megan or Hannah. No matter how long we’re together”

“But you’re not even going to stick around long enough to see if there is all that with them?”

“No. I know it makes me sound like an asshole but I know what I want. I just have to wait until that love realizes what they want”

You thought for a moment. Maybe it made sense? In some weird, twisted, ‘i’m an asshole but don’t want you to think so’ sort of way. “Okay” You trailed off.

“Also we were only a thing for like three weeks why is she this upset”

“That’s what I thought!” The two of you laughed and settled back into a comfortable silence.

You’d since learned to trust what you knew about Harrison, disregarding parts of what was said that night. He was kind, and took care of you, and cared deeply about so many things. You knew about his reputation, but you didn’t care. He was your best friend, and what kind of friend would you be if you changed your opinion based on what other people said. Certainly better than ones who date the guy who broke your heart (*cough* Olivia, *cough cough*) The same one who warned you not to date him.

And sure enough, the following week, Olivia and Harrison were together.

Olivia was the longest he’d been with someone that you knew about. A whole eight weeks was a record for Harrison. It almost made you think that maybe he was capable of finding love on his own. And that made you happy. Happy for him.

Then there was that damn click. That fucking leaf. The one that made you sad when you saw them in the halls, her hand in his. The same one that made your stomach drop when he'd kiss her cheek before class.

Although his time never wavered with you, you couldn't help but wish it was you under his arm. With his lips against your skin.

High school ended, Harrison went on to drama school. It fit, he’d always been dramatic (haha very funny Y/N) but you were proud of him for pursuing his dream of acting. You’d gone onto university as well. Although the two of you didn’t see each other nearly as much, you were still his best friend, and him yours. The texts to take your meds had changed from whenever you had to take one to only every morning, and the two of you would talk that night.

June Twenty-Second. You’d finished all your exams two months ago. Still riding on the high of being a university graduate, you didn’t expect for it to drop so fast.

You were put on the transplant list your sophomore year of university. But you were getting worse, you’d moved up significantly since being put on. June Twenty-Second is when your doctor told you that if you couldn’t get one of the next few lungs, you’d be out of time.

When you’d discovered that you were dying when you were eleven, you struggled to cope with it. Slowly but surely, you’d learned to accept that you couldn’t live forever, and if you’d been asked a month ago how you felt about death, you know how you would have answered. You would have said that it’s a part of life. That every journey has its end. You would have said that no matter what you did you couldn’t change anything and you were okay with dying. Maybe it was your time.

But when your doctor finally, officially tells you that they don’t know if they'll get you a pair of lungs in time, one thing comes to mind.

I’m not ready for this.

Immediately followed by another thought.

Harrison

Tags:

haz tags:

@summernykole @hjosterfield @imagines-andshizz @thequeensardine @artemisiaarm @sincerelymlg @butithasntkilledyouyet @bitchymathematician @ixchel-9275 @honeyyhuggs @nedthegay @ohyouremymedicine @awkwardfangirl2014 @parkerpeterholland @screeching-student-unknown

@osterfieldholland01 @happymagicbee @headsup-itsmostlypeter @starlightfound @spideyyypeter @empressdreams @isabellyduh

Others who i think might enjoy or hate me for it (or already do)

@wazzupmrstark @parkerpuffwrites @parrkerspeters @nnatasha @lamptracker (really i just want you to read this)

[quinn-firethief]

Quinn Firethief

Hello everyone! It’s currently four am but I’ll do my best here. Quinn Firethief is one of my oldest wizards. I made him two years ago after I downloaded the game for the first time in like, years, to play with some friends. The graphics update had me shook, y’all. My friends and I loved roleplaying as our characters (both in-game via voice chat and in our texting apps cause we’re weebs) so Quinn is pretty fleshed out. The problem is is that I’m poor so I’m currently stuck right before Marleybone. Hopefully, I’ll be able to change that once I graduate. But for right now, I’ll give you guys the rundown of his character up until this point. Quinn Firethief is a Prince. His parents are the King and Queen of Dragonspyre. Yeah, big surprise, amirite? When I made his backstory, I made it without knowing the whole story of the world. Bad on my part, I know, but I’m really attached to the idea now. So, how that works is that while most of Dragonspyre is unhabitable, there is still a very small part that is. That's where the royal family and a lot of inhabitants that were too loyal to leave ran to. It’s a very small place, they have a very small military, it’s very much a former shell of the great glory it once was. Because of this though, Quinn is well known among their people because there’s probably, at least, a hundred or two left there. He cares very much about them, he’s a great public speaker, very charismatic, and he just really cares about people and really loves helping them in general. It's such a small place that it's really not that big of a deal that Quinn is a prince, a few people might be like “wow what's it like???” but a lot of questions don’t really apply to him because he did live a comfortable life, just not a lavished one thanks to their current situation. But his family does have very good background to their name. Firethieves were the royal family after all. There’s a big legend that they got their last name-Firethief of course-by stealing fire from the Dragons themselves so that they could harness the power and learn how to control it. Depending on whether or not you believe that, you could say a lot of people have Quinn’s ancestors from many many generations ago to thank for fire magic. Others might say that the downfall of the world is probably the family’s karma catching back up on them if that is true.

Before I go into the next part. I no longer talk to the friend that played the next character that I’m going to be talking about. We didn’t end on good terms. But their character is very vital to Quinn’s story. I can’t just write them out. So I’ve decided to just not put their name. Maybe I will later, maybe I’ll completely change it; we’ll just have to see.

Quinn had a best friend who was basically like a brother to him. He was always at the castle, and people even called him a Prince too. When they were of age to go to Ravenwood and start practicing magic (which, in my opinion, is probably eighteen, maybe as young as sixteen if you’re super good) they went together. Like I said, Quinn’s family has a long history in fire magic, being the royal family of Dragonspyre after all, so Quinn immediately dabbled in fire magic. His best friend went into myth. When they started questing, they ended up meeting a life wizard named Sarai (her last name escapes me rn I’ll get back to y’all on that) who was in the same year as them. (She was played by my girlfriend, if she ever makes a Tumblr for her I’ll definitely link it here) They needed a healer, she needed some harder hitters, so they all started questing together. They became the best of friends. They were well on their way to being able to take down Malistaire. The journey didn’t come without difficulties of course. Sarai got sick with the Krok Plague during one of the dungeons, and the boys had to rush through the last few to get the cure for her. Quinn’s best friend ended up dropping Myth because he was doing so horrible. He did, however, become very interested in Balance thanks to Kroktopia and found he did very well in that. While Sarai was sick Quinn realized that he had definitely fallen in love with the sweet and gentle Life wizard, and while he came very close to confessing his feelings, he didn’t.

Krok ended well. They were able to get the cure to Sarai in time and they finished it all out together, with Sarai cured of the plague and coherent. They all crashed in Sarai’s house afterward and chatted about how far they had come, and how they heard that Marleybone was needing help next.

Now, this is when my friends and I stopped playing. Summer of 2018 had drawn to a close and I was going into my Junior year. We all got very busy, my family ran into some bad financial problems so I obviously couldn’t unlock the Marleybone zones, and then by the end of my Junior year, I was no longer talking to the friend that played Quinn’s best friend. I’m in my Senior year and I’m feeling nostalgic, and like most Wizard101 players I’m getting sucked back into this game(help me). But this is where I take some liberty with the story. The three of them do end up going to Marleybone, but after a good few weeks, they end up running into Morganthe who, at this point, is just starting to plan on getting a little public about her villainess. Obviously, at this point, I’m messing with canon a little bit, but not that bad. She ended up casting a spell that took ahold of Quinn’s best friend's mind and completely turned him against Quinn and Sarai. They tried to free him from the spell but it became very clear very fast that it wasn’t possible. They ended up having to kill him. Quinn dealt the final blow with his bow and arrow (I got it from a pack, such a good drop sorry now isn’t the best time-) and the place they were fighting in exploded. Sarai and Quinn were knocked out and then dragged to safety by some other wizards that heard the explosion. While the friend’s body was never found, it was plainly obvious that he was dead. Quinn and his best friend, who was basically his brother, had known each other since they were kids. Like, I’m talking six years old. they had known Sarai for at least two years at this point since Krok and Wizard City had definitely (in my mind) taken some time to get through and fix. They were a very close, tightknit group. They were well known around Ravenwood and it was rare when you saw one of them walking around alone. So, as you can imagine, having to kill their own friend was very, very hard on them. Especially Quinn. He and Sarai can’t even be around each other anymore because it hurts too much, the wound is too raw. Quinn ends up telling Sarai that he needs some time alone, some time to think. So they stop talking, they stop hanging out, and they both just stop questing in general. It’s not the same without their friend’s lute playing to cheer them on.

Quinn gets very depressed and turns to alcohol. At this point, he’s twenty-one, so it is legal. A favorite of his is Fireball. If he’s not sleeping or studying or practicing, he’s drinking. He has nightmares (and rarely dreams, those tend to hurt more) of his friend constantly. He has to move out of the dorm because they always hung out there and it just hurts too much, there are too many memories. He can’t even visit Dragonspyre because of all of the memories they have there, he’d probably drop dead the moment he walked in because of how hard it’d hit him. So he moves into the Fire House (the classic burning tower with all that lava) and to try and cope, he makes a grave for his best friend even though they never found a body. Yep, you’re right, that’s exactly what my header is. Depressing, right? I had a leftover present from some winter event, so I decided to put that there to make it even sadder. This is currently where I’m picking up with Quinn, where he’s at his lowest and he’s pushing everyone away and he feels completely alone. It really resonates with me because of how I’ve been feeling lately (for like NO reason might I add). I’m super excited to write about it, it’s definitely going to be fun. I hope you guys enjoyed that! I’m sorry this was such a long read lmao this took me like twenty minutes to type up. Mainly because I had to keep fact-checking and I’m so tired. It’s now five am and I need to sleep. If you guys have any questions, don’t be afraid to ask. If you wanna be friends, shoot me a text! I need more Wizard101 buddies so badly right now. I might open one-shot requests if enough people show interest in Quinn and my writings enough, but we’ll just have to see :)

Have a good day everyone!

[omgitsaddyc]

Prompt Time! Since Eliza was lovely and sent me two(!) and I’m a shit and have only done one so far, here it is.

“You’re incredibly high.”

It was half an hour past the time they’d agreed to meet by the stables, and Erik was nowhere to be found. It wasn't like him to not be somewhere when he said he would, especially when it concerned El. They'd spent enough time on the run to know if the other didn't show up, something bad had happened.  El’s mood skyrocketed from concern to panic in minutes. He ran back around towards the shops, and back around the other side where the circus tent used to be. No sign of him. He double checked all of the alleyways, slumping against a wall when he came up empty handed. Had he gotten himself into trouble? Was he being held somewhere? Before El let his mind spiral too far, he decided to check out the campsite before kicking down the palace doors. Erik did have a habit of slipping out from the crowds on occasion. 

El zoomed out to the nearest campsite to get some fresh air and hopefully catch his thief. He sat by the Goddess statue and put the edge of his hand flat to his forehead to shield his eyes from the blazing sun as he scanned the sandy horizon. In the distance he could make out a blob of green, red, and blue. Promising. He got up and sprinted over, finding Erik sitting in the sand with his shirt off and tied around his waist, his sash tied around his forehead. His cheeks were puffed out, sand still stuck to his lips, like a chipmunk.

“Erwevin!” He exclaimed. When he tried to open his mouth to speak, a pile of sand fell out. His left hand had another pile ready, and Eleven grabbed his wrist before he could raise it to his mouth.

“...Hi. What exactly are you doing out here?” He eyed him suspiciously. Was he sick? Crazy from heat exhaustion? Erik looked him dead in the eyes, expression as serious as the day they met.

“El, I hate sand. And the only way to get rid of it is to eat it. Trust me.”

It took everything in Eleven not to burst out laughing. That may have been the single most ridiculous thing Erik had ever said to him. Something was definitely wrong. He reached to untie the sash from his forehead, and his hand was slapped away.

“Hey! Don’t. It makes me look cool.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest. Eleven huffed and squared his shoulders. He didn’t usually lose his patience with anyone, let alone Erik, but it was hot. He could already feel the beads of sweat rolling down his back. He reached out with an open hand to help Erik off the ground. He stared at it for a few moments before reaching out and giving El a high five. Eleven clenched his hands into fists and held them steady at his sides, and for a rare moment, lost his composure.

“Ugh, what is wrong with you?! You’re acting like a kid!” He took a few deep breaths to bring himself back to a level head. When he looked back to Erik, his heart lurched. Erik looked back up at him like a kicked puppy.

“Look, I’m sorry I yelled, but we really have to get back to the others. I’m taking you with me whether you like it or not.”

Before Erik could protest, El grabbed him by the waist and flung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Erik began giggling, beating his fists against El’s sweat-soaked back.

“Hey, at least buy me dinner first!” He laughed, before El zoomed them back into town.

Once they were back on solid ground, El set Erik back on his feet and immediately had to grab his shoulders to keep him from falling over. Once he was steady, he rested his hands on his knees, head down. El turned away when he began to dry heave. After a few moments he stood up straight, taking a few deep breaths as his vision cleared.

“Man, I forgot how disorienting that was.”

El looked around the square and quickly spotted Veronica and Serena by a supplies stall. He grabbed Erik's hand and pulled him along. Hopefully Serena could cure him from whatever spell he was under.

Veronica took one look at Erik's new fashion statement and began cackling.

“I see Serena isn’t the only one who had a cookie today.” She said, wiping tears from her eyes. Eleven’s narrowed.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘had a cookie’? Is Serena acting weird too?” He asked, his heart sinking. So much for a cure. Veronica gave him a look of sympathy. Poor dear had no idea what edibles were. 

“Serena told me she got a cookie from some guy in an alley. It took me a bit to connect all the dots, but there was something a little extra in the cookie. I’m guessing Erik had one too.” She looked him up and down, confirming her suspicions with a nod.

“You’re incredibly high.” she said, hand on her hip. Erik grinned goofily and mimed her stance in mockery.

“You’re incrediblah-” He tripped over the word and erupted into giggles, Serena joining in. Veronica sighed like it hurt.

“Let’s get them something to eat and take it back to the Inn where we can ride the rest of this out.” She said, jabbing a thumb over at the giggle twins. Seclusion was preferred in their current state.

“I’d like to ride something out.” Erik announced, winking at El. Serena smacked his arm.

“You’re gross!” She said, hiding her smirk behind her hand. El raised an eyebrow and shook his head lightly. 

“We need to make sure they won’t go anywhere in the meantime. Veronica put her finger to her chin in thought for a moment, before perking up and grabbing both Erik and Serena’s hands. She dragged them over to the nearest alley and sat them against a wall.

“Alright you two, don’t move. If you leave this spot, you don’t get your food.” She said sternly, pointing a finger at the both of them. Their eyes went wide, puppy dog pouts on full display. They nodded in understanding as the sober pair went in search of takeout. Erik reached over and poked Serena in the shoulder. 

"What did you do today?" He asked. She sat in silence for a few moments to gather her thoughts. 

"I made friends with a rat outside the palace. The guards didn't appreciate it, even after I tried to tell them rats deserve to have friends, too."

"Bastards." Erik muttered.

"How about you?" Serena asked in turn, tilting her head towards him as if it would help her hear his answer more clearly.

"I...tried to eat sand." Once the words left his mouth he felt incredibly stupid. He rested his head in his hands. Serena burst out laughing, reaching out to brush some sand away that was still stuck in his hair.

“You know what, Erik? There’s something that I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time.”

His eyebrows shot up, and a nervous lump formed in his stomach. She sounded serious.

“What’s that?”

“You’re stupid.” 

As soon as the words left her mouth, she tossed her head back in laughter, careful not to bump it on the wall behind her. Erik crossed his arms and tried his best to look offended.

“Hey, you’re stupid.”

“No, you are so stupid. But I love you.”

“Love you too.” He leaned his head on her shoulder, relaxing as she rested her cheek against his tousled hair. Before they could get too relaxed, a voice startled them from the end of the alley. 

"Aw, how sweet. Bonding time is over kids, let's go hole up in the Inn until you two chuckleheads are back to normal." Veronica said, making sure Serena didn't topple over as she stood up. Eleven offered a hand to Erik, which he took gratefully. As they walked back, Eleven leaned over to ask Erik a question. 

"What made you eat the cookie?" 

Erik gave him a look so serious he knew he was telling the truth. 

"Serena ate it without a second thought, so I did too in case it was poison."

El smiled, it was sweet how they looked out for one another, almost like a family. But there was one problem. 

"That's very nice of you, but you realize if it was poisoned you both would have died." 

Erik's eyebrows furrowed for a moment, and he slapped his hand to his forehead in embarrassment. 

"Damn it!"

[parts-of-spop]

forgive me if this is something you were already planning to write and thus don't want to talk about it here, but do past catra or adora ever meet their future selves? are they jealous of how close they seem to be with their counterparts?

Hey, friend! I doubt I’ll ever get too in depth with these AUs due to just...  life so I’m happy to talk about them no worries! This is gonna drag on so apologies in advance but erm... yeah. I’m gonna put a read-more here to save you all some trauma. (Scratch that, read more won’t work but I will add one asap)

The long and short of it is yes but in the time traveller Adora AU, she doesn’t properly interact with her future self until later. The future version is suspiciously lacking a certain sword so it’s not too hard for her to blend in around a battlefield (not to say future Adora is with the Horde but she is definitely biding her time because Entraptra’s genius is invaluable and she could really do with a hand with a certain something). On the other hand, in the time travelling Catra AU (I just really like time travel AUs), her future self actively sneaks into the Fright Zone to find herself and the first time they meet, she’s doing paperwork in Catra’s room and offers to keep doing so on the condition that Catra doesn’t visit SW. I placed this during S2 so she’s still in a cell and Catra’s future version is happy to use a bit of bribery to keep her younger self from spending too much time down there. She’s only partially successful because Catra is stubborn but she kinda already knew that.

Sorry this is gonna get much longer but onto the second part of your question. This will contain ‘spoilers’ but since I’ve not got time or energy to write these monsters, I don’t suppose it counts so please take these concepts and enjoy.

Firstly, Adora went back because Catra was ill. Earlier in the war, she’d taken an ‘accidental’ tank blast from her own side when Hordak started questioning her usefulness and whilst she eventually recovered (him quietly impressed in some messed up way and thus allowing it since it also preserved his image) they were all unaware that the reason he’d really let it slide was because it was designed for the long term. He knew it’d make Catra sick. It was designed to plant a disease in her. Eventually, she’d fall ill and no one would be any the wiser as to why and thus no one would question the flag they stood beneath.

Except, Adora goes back. Catra is dying and she knows she either needs a miracle cure or to stop Catra taking the shot. She has to. She has to because she promised her Catra that she wouldn’t do this to save her and she did anyway and a broken promise has to mean something.

Time travel takes a lot of energy and Adora broke the runestone in her sword in order to make it happen.

Adora gives up She-ra in order to save Catra. And maybe they’ve won the war and She-ra isn’t exactly needed right now but it’s still huge.

Here’s a snippet of Catra putting the pieces together:

“You… you didn’t throw away the sword like you said… did you?” Catra asks, voice low, as she watches Adora trail her hand along the length of the blade, slow and reverent.

Then her touch falls away and she sighs.

“I… didn’t have time to… figure something else out...” She says in a whisper.

“For what?” Catra presses, brow knitting.

“For time travel,” Adora says before looking over to her. “I… used the stone to get me here but… I had to break it for it to work.”

“But… you’re a Princess. Your stone is-”

“Far less important to me than you,” Adora interrupts, fire in her voice and Catra swallows.

“But… Etheria… the stones are needed to make balance. Entrapta said-”

And Adora interrupts her again, this time with a laugh as she looks back to the Sword, bright and gleaming and shining with energy.

“Yeah… My friends weren’t exactly pleased at the idea...” Her humour wanes, “Neither were you actually.”

“I wasn’t?” Catra coaxes and Adora takes a deep breath then heaves a sigh, shaking her head.

“No… In fact, the last thing she did before I left was… make me promise… not to do it,” She admits and a deep, aching sort of shame paints her face. “And I tried to… understand, to keep my promise but… she… she was so ill… so so sick and I couldn’t...” She trails off, voice cracking and her eyes clench shut. “I couldn’t… watch her die. I couldn’t and… it didn’t matter what it cost; my sword, my life, any of it, I just… couldn’t imagine living in a world where she wasn’t with me.”

Catra watches a shudder roll through her.

“And I don’t know if she’ll remember any of it, if the timeline has changed too much or whether she’ll just be better and… and I don’t know whether… whether she’ll forgive me for it.”

Catra sees restless hands fidget with the ring and then she huffs.

“Well… maybe I’m not her yet, maybe I never will be but… I would.”

Adora looks back up, a hope so sweet it hurts to witness gleaming in her eyes.

“You would?”

Catra smirks.

“You kidding? You said ‘fuck Etheria’ for me… It’s pretty flattering.”

And Adora laughs.

She laughs warm and pure and relieved and Catra’s smirk softens to a smile as she watches her light up.

So anyway, Adora loves Catra a lot and to make a very long story short, when current Adora meets her future self (not in ideal circumstances, her future self is bashed up bad) she has her Catra telling her that it’s her and that she came back to help Catra and Adora really just goes... ‘yeah, sounds about right’. Glimmer is there and is like ‘??? WHAT?’ and Adora just shrugs at her, sending a glance towards Catra and trying not to look as conflicted as she feels as she says ‘Catra and I are complicated...’ and Catra is trying very hard not to feel flattered so she just huffs out a ‘no kidding, princess’ and that’s about when unconscious future Adora wakes up and says ‘oh by Etheria, am I not dead?’.

Sorry, I didn’t make the long story short I’ve just thought about this way too much but basically, Adora is a little jealous of the possibilities for herself and Catra in the future more than the reality because she doesn’t know enough about it to dare to hope that her and Catra could ever be that close again.

Jokes on her though because they are hella married.

And Adora doesn’t feel jealous of her future self per say but she does really wish her future self wasn’t so comfortable just slinging an arm around her Catra and sitting that close and whispering things like they used to and okay yeah maybe she’s jealous.

She’ll get over it.

On the flip side, it takes Catra eons to warm up to this future version of the Adora she knows because she’s far too happy and more importantly, far too happy to see her. It’s confusing and stressful and she doesn’t trust her.

Also future Adora forgets to take off her wedding ring when she arrives which is... a lot for Catra to deal with like you’re married?! Who married you?! How dare they??? and she’s 90% convinced it’s Glimmer or something so she’s really angry but Adora doesn’t tell her that it’s her because Catra doesn’t trust her yet and she’s worried it’ll frighten her away.

So Catra’s left simmering over somebody else marrying her best friend and future Adora is like ‘I have ruined everything forever better not speak and make it worse’ and it’s... a process to unpack that. Catra does eventually pull it out of Adora who does a ‘heh as if I’d marry anyone but my best friend’ and Catra’s brain short circuits because ‘you said you had kids??’ and Adora (probably bleeding to death in a big heroic gesture, smiles through bloodied teeth) and says ‘yeah... they’re magicats... they’re beautiful’ and well... that’s a big moment for Catra because oh my shit this is Adora oh my shit this is my future wife and we have kids and oh my SHIT she’s bleeding everywhere!!

It’s a lot.

To kinda... counterbalance that a little, future Catra’s first appearance is literally saving Adora’s ass and whilst she teases the hell out of her, she also takes care of her and is as gentle as possible with her battered form.

She’s very vulnerable and honest with Adora.

And it takes a while to find out why...

She climbs into the bed, slow and steady, as has become her nightly ritual and she smiles when Adora doesn’t whip the knife from under her pillow that night.

She stiffens a moment only to relax, rolling over to face her, blinking sleepily as she settles down beside her.

Adora smiles.

“Hi,” She greets and Catra purrs softly.

“Hey Adora,” She replies, raising a hand to stroke back a stray lock of blonde hair.

“How’s your mission going?” Adora asks and Catra thinks for a moment.

“Not as planned… but it’s going somewhere,” She says gently and Adora hums, encouraging her to continue and she chews her bottom lip a moment. “Turns out changing the course of the future is trickier than I thought. I think the universe is trying to… correct it, steer it to how it was for me but… there’s changes.”

“Space time nonsense, right?” Adora murmurs and Catra smiles a tad at the sleepy tone.

“Yeah… but it’s okay. It’s nice being here,” She replies honestly.

“With me?” Adora quips teasingly and, drowsy as she is, she doesn’t notice Catra tense in the dim light before she forces herself to slacken.

“Yeah… with you,” She agrees, voice a bit too tender but Adora doesn’t question it.

Nor does she question when Catra tucks closer into her, nuzzling under her chin and draping an arm around her waist.

She squeezes her against her.

“Don’t you miss your Adora?”

Catra clenches her eyes shut as they start to prickle.

“Every day...” She returns, “But this is still nice...”

Adora was killed in battle and up until that point, Catra had been convinced that nothing could take down She-ra. She’d almost forgotten that beneath that, Adora was not nearly so invulnerable.

They never get closure. They’re on opposite sides of a war and Catra only realises how terribly in love she is when she sees Adora fall from across a battlefield of carnage and she realises that she’s forgotten how to breathe.

Present Catra isn’t jealous because her future self is a woman who achieved everything Catra thought she wanted... and she’s miserable.

On a brighter note, present Adora gets to enjoy nightly cuddles and a sense of safety that lets her sleep like a baby with her favourite person -future version or not- wrapped around her.

Okay, dang I think I answered the questions... eventually. Sorry again this is so long I just... get so excited about time travel AUs.

Also thank you for asking about it! Feel free to hmu with anything else you’re curious about! This was fun!

[mdelpin]

Gratsu Bingo 2019, Gratsu Week 2019 Prompt: Flying AO3 | FF.Net

Anyone Who Had A Heart

Summary: Natsu and Gray were careful, they had to be. They were well aware that Don't ask, don't tell didn't only apply to servicemen at Loring Air Force Base. One wrong move could destroy not only them but their loved ones. But they were in love, and sometimes love can make us careless.

Disclaimer: All Fairy Tail Characters Belong to Hiro Mashima

Natsu had always loved flying. It had started at an early age when his father had taken him to a small local airport to watch the small planes take off and land. They'd sit on the hood of his father's old truck on Sundays while his mother prepared dinner. His father would sit him on his lap, and they'd laugh as they felt the wind push against their bodies when the planes accelerated past them on the runway, as they prepared to take off and soar in the air.

His father would walk him through what the pilots where doing and even though Natsu couldn't really understand the words at first, he still loved listening to the joy in his father's voice as he would patiently explain the same thing every week.

His father was a fighter pilot at the local Air Force Base. He flew planes which were sleeker and faster than anything that was housed in the small hangar of the airport, but he could always find something to love about any type of plane.

It wasn't uncommon to see Natsu running around the base, arms stretched out in makeshift wings as he made sputtering noises like an engine. His father would always beam at him and urge him to go faster and faster.

They had to move often, his father receiving Permanent Change of Station to other bases as he was promoted up the ranks, but as soon as they arrived at their new home they would seek out the local airport, and it would all begin again. It was their one normalcy in their ever-changing world.

When Natsu was six years old, his father surprised him by taking him out on a plane for the very first time. It was just a small biplane he'd rented, but Natsu was still thrilled to be inside instead of watching from the sidelines. He felt funny wearing the goggles and headset his father had insisted he put on, but he could still feel the wind threading through his hair.

It was the most exhilarating moment of his life so far, he felt a freedom he'd never experienced before. There were butterflies in his stomach, and his heart raced in his chest. He couldn't help but scream joyfully into the air, smiling as he heard his father's warm laugh coming from the seat in front of him.

When he was in the air, there was no time to think about the friends he had once again left behind, or worry about having to start a new school and making new ones. There were only clouds and wind, and basking in the warm sunlight. It was as peaceful as it was exciting, and he loved it.

When his father began to do barrel rolls, Natsu hooted in approval. He thought his father was the coolest person in the world. Natsu was filled with great happiness, and he wanted nothing more than to stay up in the sky forever.

He now knew without a doubt what he wanted to be when he grew up. He wanted to be a pilot like his father, to spend his time in the clouds, leaving his worries down on the ground. After that, every year on his birthday, his father would rent a plane for a few hours and take him up.

xxx

Natsu's father knocked on his bedroom door, making him look up from the Lego model he'd been struggling with.

"Natsu, I need to talk to you, son."

His father looked pained, and Natsu had long ago learned to recognize that voice. He knew, without a doubt, they would be moving again. He'd lost track of how many times they'd moved, but at ten years of age, he could say he'd lived in all the time zones the United States had to offer.

There was something different this time though, his father had sat on his bed. Usually, when this happened, he'd just tell him where they were going and then leave him to begin packing. Something else was up.

"An opportunity has come up at a base in New England," His father declared absently, "I know you like it here, but our situation has changed, and I have to take it."

Natsu wasn't exactly sure why his father thought he liked it here, the kids were mean. They called him names just cause he had pink hair.

It was irritating, it's not like he had any control over his hair color. He would definitely not be sorry to leave this place behind. Natsu couldn't help but notice his father was paying no attention to him. By that token, where was his mom? She usually came in after the announcement to help him pack.

Natsu's father finally focused on him again, peering at him with wide eyes and shaking hands, and Natsu could feel the beginnings of fear grab hold of his fingertips and crawl itself up the rest of his body.

"Dad?"

His father didn't respond right away, seemingly lost in his own world, one that was apparently sad enough to cause tears to glisten at the corner of his eyes. Natsu could feel his insides get cold, and he began to shake with anxiety.

His father looked at him blankly before shaking his head and producing a smile that wouldn't fool anyone, let alone someone who knew him as well as Natsu did.

"Your mom," Natsu could hear the sob in his father's voice, and he rushed to his bed, jumping on his father's lap and holding on for dear life.

They held each other for a few minutes as his dad got himself under control, "Your mom is sick, and she needs better care than what she can get at this small base. "

Natsu looked up in shock. His mother was sick? But she looked fine.

"I don't understand," Natsu managed to get out wondering what kind of illness could be so severe but not show.

"She uhm, she has cancer. Moving to a bigger base might help extend her life a little," His father tried to explain.

"So if we move they can cure her?" Natsu asked eagerly, he wasn't exactly sure what cancer was, he'd only ever heard the word used in hushed voices.

His father shook his head sadly, "There is no cure, but the base we're moving to has its own hospital. She'll have access to better treatments, and they'll be able to keep her comfortable."

"So, when are we going?" Natsu asked, trying to sound like his world wasn't currently falling apart all around him.

He felt strong arms embrace him tightly, and they remained this way for a long time, long past when it got dark outside. He could hear his mother moving around in the house, but for the first time he could remember, he wasn't eager to see her. He didn't know what to do or what to say, and he was terrified he would somehow make the situation worse.

Natsu had never wanted to be up in the sky as much as he did at that moment.

A/N: This was an idea I had while I was working, I had a query that required me to look around an air force base and this story sort of popped into my head. It takes place during the early 1990’s when attitudes towards those who identified as gay were a lot worse than they are now, especially in military circles. It was originally meant to be a two-shot for Gratsu Week but when Gratsu Bingo was announced I decided to expand the story to use some of the prompts. They start up as kids but should age up to high school age in a few chapters. Will be continued in Day 4′s Prompt: Water.

[bishreview]

Lots of Quickies

Hi, I’ve been real busy lately and have started a heap of reviews that I’ve been unable to finish because of time restraints and stress. University can get on my back quickly but I’m finished now so I’m going to finish the ones I started before getting into a top 10 for films, albums and singles for the mid year (probably released before the end of June). 

Avengers: Infinity War

The biggest crossover movie event ever pitted together the 20+ heroes against the big bad villain of the Marvel universe, Thanos. With a giant cast full of big names, a range of genres and a massive story to deal with, there were a lot of risks that the Russo brothers faced to make this movie. Despite it feeling supersaturated with characters and having some pacing issues, they were successful in creating a massive, climatic film, and Infinity War is close to the MCU’s best.

Avengers: Infinity War gets an A-

Breath

Simon Baker’s adaptation of the highly acclaimed Tim Winton novel of the same name had a surprising amount of hype for an Australian film. Although there is some gorgeous cinematography, especially with some of the surfing shots, the movie is bogged down by stale acting, shocking character development, inconsistent pacing, and a directionless plot. With the movie just coming under the 2hr mark, it feels overly long and bland, lacking originality in both the surfing genre and the coming-of-age genre.

Breath gets a D

Deadpool 2

Deadpool was an unbelievable success in 2016, shattering records and expectations as it became one of the most successful R-rated films ever. With the sequel they have expanded the universe, introducing ‘the X Force’ for the future of the franchise. This introduces many new strong characters, including Domino (Zazie Beetz) who steals every scene she’s in, and Firefist/Rusty Collins (Julian Dennison) who is works well with the titular character (Ryan Reynolds). Thankfully they haven’t sacrificed the quality of the film in order to universe build, with the sequel being almost as hilarious as the first, whilst digging into deeper themes of mortality and family.

Deadpool 2 gets an A

Hereditary

I generally split horror films into three categories; the aim to scare, the aim to gross out, and the aim to unsettle. Hereditary falls into the last category. It’s been a long time since a film has me shook by the end of it. This isn’t an enjoyable film at all, instead being a tiresome experience of slowly increasing tension and uncomfortableness. This makes it one of the best horror films I’ve ever seen. Toni Collette and Alex Wolff are both incredible and the cinematography and score are perfect, complimenting the story and giving the tension exactly what it needs to flourish. The use of shadows and wide shots create an atmosphere which is unlike any horror movie I’ve ever seen, giving you enough to be scared but not enough to know why. Hereditary isn’t for anyone, it is slow and there are no payoffs for the tension (like jumpscares), but its a testament to how one can build tension on film and up there with the greats of the genre.

Hereditary gets an A+

Solo: A Star Wars Story

Solo isn’t a complex movie. It doesn’t try to be a massive connection story like Rogue One, nor an epic adventure like The Force Awakens or The Last Jedi. Instead it plays to its strength, a low stakes origin story which gives a few characters some extra screen time. And it works to that extent, Han, Lando and Chewie being introduced well and having a fun adventure. It does have issues with pacing and the overcooked “shock betrayals” towards the climax starts getting cringy more than surprising but the journey is enjoyable fun, becoming a simple popcorn flick with a lot of replay value.

Solo: A Star Wars Story gets a B-

13 Reasons Why

13 Reasons Why has quickly become on the most decisive and controversial TV shows in recent memory. Season One had its issues but still held itself up due to its characters and story development. To put it simple, Season Two didn’t need to be made and it’s very clear that it was forced out. Only three of the characters remain interesting with their story arcs, the script is derivative and banal, and events happen only for the purpose of the plot. This all leads up to terribly cringey moments and a predictable ending (which follows one of the most disturbing and unneeded scenes in TV). I will give the show props though for attempting a realistic court hearing and a beautiful moment in which the main cast come together in memory of their deceased friend, a moment which really should’ve ended the series.

13 Reasons Why gets a D-

Atlanta: Robbin’ Season

Donald Glover’s Atlanta is something else. The debut season explored the African American life, relationships, the Hip Hop scene, poverty and young parenthood in such a unique and fresh way. With Robbin’ Season Glover gets deeper into his characters, exploring their flaws with a realistic lens. It works as well, with each episode making a range of statements, varying from depression and grief, to dating and ‘investments’. By the end of the season the main ensemble has changed so much that season three is a complete unknown. What the show doesn’t pretend to do though is become cliched, with success still an unobtainable goal and their desire to reach it getting more desperate. To summarise, this is honestly one of the best seasons of television ever produced. Also, bonus points for Teddy Perkins being the scariest character ever conceived in a hip hop story.

Atlanta: Robbin’ Season gets an A+

Arctic Monkeys - Tranquillity Base Hotel & Casino

With album number six, Arctic Monkeys attempted to completely re-image themselves. Diverting from their previous, guitar driven, indie rock, TBH&C delves into a smoother, 70s psychedelic inspired direction, with most songs utilising a keyboard to accompany Alex Turner’s almost mindless ramblings (at times successful, other times forced)). Although the band have changed the direction, it seems they’ve changed it to a familiar territory, with a lot of the songs sounds like Alex Turner’s recent The Last Shadow Puppets materiel (and some seeming like the B-sides of them). Although there are stronger moments, there’s a lot of filler and some of the weakest material of the band’s quite consistent career.

Favourite song: ‘The Ultracheese’

Tranquillity Base Hotel & Casino gets a C

 A$AP Rocky - Testing

The A$AP mob’s most successful mainstream member, Rocky, has been moving at a rapid rate. His popularity and critical acclaim has been moving up with every release. Testing is both a step in the right direction and the wrong direction. Although it’s is most ambitious record to date, influenced by psychedelic, electronica and ambient music, it’s quite messy and inconsistent. Songs start well to just fall away in their second half and there’s simply too many tracks to keep interest high. A$AP Rocky is doing very different things in hip hop and Testing will hopefully continue to lead him on his path, it’s just disappointing the album couldn’t be stronger.

Favourite track: ‘Purity (feat. Frank Ocean)’

Testing gets a C+

Courtney Barnett - Tell Me How You Really Feel

I’m one of those people that didn’t rate Courtney Barnett’s breakout debut. I found it redundant and pretentious. With her sophomore though she takes a lot of what was strong from her debut and worked with it. Although there’s a clunky and repetitive middle section, the first third of the album is very good music. Barnett has a wonderful way with melodies when she tries to write melodic music and her voice, although not the strongest, can be really emotive. There’s still some rambling tracks but her development is quite noticeable and from someone who couldn’t get through multiple listens of her debut, this was an enjoyable album.

Favourite track: ‘Hopefulessness’

Tell Me How You Really Feel gets a C+

DMAs - For Now

DMAs’ debut was something special in 2016. A 90s Brit-Pop revival album which was better than most 90s Brit-Pop. For Now continues their journey through British music, sharing similarities with bands like The Cure, The Smiths, Boomtown Rats and The Stone Roses. It’s very successful, with a wide range of influences and styles being incorporated in their sound. The album is much more consistent their debut, with each track being different yet based around the general ‘feel’ of the album. Unfortunately, it doesn’t have that big moment that their debut had, with no tracks really standing out as something incredible. That doesn’t weaken the album too much though, being one of the strongest releases of the year.

Favourite track: ‘Tape Deck Sick’ 

For Now gets an A-

Kanye West - Ye

I love this album cover. It’s very simple but very effective, representing both the minimalist, emotional, and cold album that is to come. Ye isn’t the first Kanye album to be lowkey, or sad, or left of field. It isn’t something special in his career though, an album where it really seems he condenses his talent into a short time (it is only seven songs) and really lets the production of the tracks take over, with some of the best moments being when he’s not on the mic (’Ghost Town’ has an outro which is just brilliant thanks to 070 Shake). That’s not to say Kanye’s voice doesn’t shine, ‘Wouldn’t Leave’ is a testament to his lyrical and rapping strengths, but his production is his best in nearly a decade. Although there are some weaker tracks and some cheesy lyrical moments, Ye reminds us why we continue to love Kanye, because he continues to release some of the best hip hop available.

Favourite track: ‘Ghost Town’

Ye gets a B+

Kids See Ghosts - Kids See Ghosts

If someone gave me a list of all the albums released this year before the year started, a collaboration between Kanye and Kid Cudi would definitely be my most anticipated. An album combining two of the most important voices in hip hop during the late 00s, both of them being instrumental in bringing topics of mental illness into mainstream hip hop. Where I expected Kids See Ghosts to be a darker album though, the album is almost a celebration of overcoming their demons. There are still some darker tracks, like the album closer ‘Cudi Montage’, there’s a lot of fiery tracks (like the conveniently titled ‘Fire’) and uplifting tracks (the album standout ‘Reborn’). There are some brilliant moments on this album, whether it comes from the strangely funny yet creepy sample of Louis Prima’s ‘What Will Santa Claus Say’ in ‘4th Dimension’, the ballsy attempt at scat rap in ‘Feel the Love’, or the gorgeous chorus in ‘Cudi Montage’ which features the beloved noise of Cudi humming (God bless Cudi and his biblical humming). Although the track listing works in its disadvantage some tracks do have some strange choices in direction (the end of ‘Fire’ sounds great but doesn’t fit with the song, nor the album), Kids See Ghosts is a contender for album of the year.

Favourite track: ‘Reborn’

Kids See Ghosts gets an A

Lily Allen - No Shame

Lily Allen will always be one of the most lovable cynics in music. Her career has been largely satirical takes of political and societal issues through upbeat, pop songs. With No Shame she seems to direct her satire on to herself, literally roasting herself, focusing on her recent divorce, motherhood, drug addiction, and balancing her fame and career with family life. This makes for a very deep, and at times dark, listen. Somehow though, through all this, Lily Allen has made her best album, and maybe the best album this year. Lead single ‘Trigger Bang’ is a brilliant pop song, reminding us of her humble beginnings whilst delving into criticisms of the industry and her place in it. Tracks like ‘Lost My Mind’ and ‘Everything to Feel Something’ are some of her saddest, roughly criticising her lifestyle with some beautiful production and instrumentation. And the gorgeous piano-ballad, ‘Three’, is as beautiful as it is rough, the lyrics being from her daughter’s perspective of Allen not being around for her kids. The album does allow a lighter ending, the final few tracks feeling upbeat and optimistic, something rare from albums which explore such dark themes. Although there are a couple of tracks where the dancehall vibe feels slightly too strong considering the lyrical content, No Shame is something special, and a sign of unbelievable growth for an artist over a decade old. 

Favourite track: ‘Everything to Feel Something’

No Shame gets an A

Middle Kids - Lost Friends

Middle Kids are slowly becoming the most underappreciated act in Australia. Their critical acclaim and industry cred are both high but their commercial success hasn’t blossomed in Australia. Their debut album looks to be their big push (it reached #10 on the ARIA album charts), and for good reason. It’s a really consistent album, with each song being a good alternative rock song. There are some lyrical moments which are average and some songs go for a little too long but each track fits well on the album and are enjoyable. For a debut, it’s a good one and really builds up anticipation to hear more from the band and see where they go. 

Favourite track: ‘Edge of Town’

Lost Friends get a B

Nas - Nasir

Nasir is another good release from the recent G.O.O.D Music output with Kanye West, although it’s probably the weakest so far. The production on it is really good, with the beats driving most of the songs, but Nas seems misguided and confused on a lot of the tracks. He has good messages behind the songs, referencing themes from police brutality to finances, but he doesn’t seem to really push his ideas, mostly feeling like there is a lack of passion or interest. It’s still an enjoyable album but the feeling of going through the motions is littered throughout and thus is quite disappointing.

Favourite track: ‘Everything’

Nasir gets a C+

Parkway Drive - Reverence

Australia’s premier Metalcore band, Parkway Drive, have has a mixed career for me. Their previous album, Ire, was one of their best, with the songs being meatier and relentless, not holding back at all whilst bringing new influences in. With album number six I’m not sure whether they’ve gone backwards or forwards. It’s different from their previous releases, leaning on cleaner singing much more often, and the influences are clearly from the heavy metal genre of the late 70′s to the early 90′s, but it doesn’t have a strong identity. At times it seems like a tribute album and really doesn’t standout or have its own image and sound. There are still some strong songs but a lot of the album feels like filler and for a band which has been leading the way in the genre in Australia for so long, it seems like they are now falling behind. 

Favourite track: ‘The Void’

Reverence gets a C-

Post Malone - Beerbongs and Bentley’s

Every now and then Post Malone nails it and he’s definitely ridden off the success of these moments (think the songs ‘Congratulations’ and ‘I Fall Apart’). There is a hidden talent there which is covered up by the cheesy songwriting and cliched style that he presents. On Beerbongs and Bentley’s he hides this talent better than ever. This is a very mediocre album, which is made even worse since it has 18 songs and drags for over an hour. He seems to run out of things to say very quickly and there’s few moments that really standout as interesting or fresh. It’s definitely a step backwards after the far more interesting Stoney. 

Favourite track: ‘Stay’

Beerbongs and Bentley’s gets a D-

The Presets - Hi Viz

One of my first introductions to music was Apocalypso, The Presets breakout sophomore album which blew away the Australian dance scene. It’s been about 10 years since that release and other than the left-of-field Pacifica, The Presets have been relatively quiet besides festival appearances. Hi Viz is the album they needed though. There are so many certified bangers on this album, from the lead single ‘Do What You Want’ to the giant album closer ‘Until the Dark’. They also bring in some really strong features, with both Alison Wonderland and DMAs shining on both their feature tracks. Although there are some filler in the album, and it does get repetitive towards the middle, it’s an excellent return to form from the band and establish them back at the top of the Australian dance scene.

Favourite track: ‘Feel Alone’

Hi Viz gets a B+

Pusha T - Daytona

Daytona was the first album from the G.O.O.D Music trail of releases of the past month and it really kicked off the project well. The production is really strong, the instrumentals on each track are solid, Pusha T’s lyrics are great (like usual) and the features fit nicely. I think the major weakness is that at times Pusha T’s voice doesn’t fit nicely with the music, especially with the mixing of his vocals at times. It seems to sit too high in the mix and seems out of place. Other than that though it’s a really solid album and an enjoyable listen. 

Favourite track: ‘If You Know You Know

Daytona gets a B

[4jimin]

change my mind | 2

pairing: jeon jungkook and park jimin; jikook/kookmin

genre: fluff (a lot), college au, friends to lovers

length: 9k words| crossposted on ao3

summary: 

“i don’t do relationships,” jimin spills in the fresh air of the fast food – a mixed smell of hamburgers, ketchup and french fries surrounding them. “i enjoy the conquest and the flirting part better. relationships are always so boring and predictable. not to mention most of the times fake.”

jungkook rolls his eyes and laughs, pretending he doesn’t feel his heart clench and slightly sink inside his chest.

“you’re helpless.”

jimin smiles at him, and it’s almost unfair. “call me realistic.” he corrects, taking a greasy thumb till his lips to clean it out of the oil of the food. he repeats the same action with the rest of his fingers. jungkook has to divert his gaze, scared he might end up staring too hard.

he snorts with a made up irritation.

“i call you a pain in the ass.“

chapter 1

“So, what do you say?” Jungkook asks again, after throwing at Jimin one of the hardest ‘would you rather’s question he has ever heard. He narrows his eyes in deep thought.

They’re walking side by side, probably just five or six minutes away from the mall now. The sun is mercilessly burning in the cloudless sky, but Jimin is relieved the high buildings alongside the sidewalk are providing shadows long enough to shelter them from the scorching heat. Yet, even so, Jimin can still feel a ghostly sensation of a droplet of sweat running down the back of his neck. He wipes it with his palm, taking the chance to look up at Jungkook.

“This is seriously so hard, how did you come up with that?”

The younger shrugs. “It was one of the questions on Pottermore.”

Jimin frowns. “Pottermore?”

Jungkook looks at him as if he just asked “Ocean? What is that?”

“Yes, Pottermore. The official website every kid went to, to find out which Hogwarts’ house they belong to?”

Jimin chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. “Oh my god, you’re such a nerd.”

“Hey! I call that being highly open minded to every movie genre. In fact!” he raises a finger, taking two steps larger than Jimin to get in front of him and fully face the older boy “I say we should do a Harry Potter’s marathon to educate you.”

Jimin licks his lips in order to moist them from the dryness the hot weather is providing. “I say no, thanks. And stop walking backwards, you’re gonna get hurt!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but listens to the other’s words anyway, getting back on his place by Jimin’s side. “We’re so doing this marathon, you don’t get a word on this.”

Jimin scoffs. “Excuse me? I don’t?”

“No, you don’t. And stop dodging the question! You’re standing in the middle of a room on fire. You can either save the baby who is in there or the last magic potion able to cure one thousand people with a deadly disease. What do you do?”

Jimin snorts. He refuses to answer a simple “I don’t know”, because somehow he feels like that would mean disappointing Jungkook and he doesn’t really want that to happen? He doesn’t know what to do with that information, though.

“The baby, I guess? I mean, if I choose the potion, then I leave that baby to die, isn’t that almost… murder?”

Jungkook smiles. “Well, yes, but you can use that same logic with the potion and the sick people. You’re also letting them to die.”

Jimin bites his lip, analyzing the new point of view. “Okay, yes, but it’s a baby. I mean, I could be saving a bunch of criminals, for what I know.”

“Are you saying criminals don’t deserve to live?” Jungkook pushes, clearly amused, poking Jimin on the ribs with his elbow.

“No, but I mean– I’d rather save a baby than them.”

“Well, I see, but from what you know you could also be saving one thousand babies.”

At that, Jimin scratches his nape frustrated. “God, why is this so hard?! I mean– Okay, no, I’m not changing my mind, I’m saving the baby.” Jimin says with confidence, stopping beneath the semaphore when they reach the street they need to cross. The mall is right on the other side, standing tall and big with all its glass windows reflecting the sunlight almost blindly.

“Good.” Jungkook nods. “But, you know, as far as you know, you could be saving Lord Voldemort.”

Jimin genuinely frowns, shooting puzzled eyes at Jungkook . “Who?”

“Oh god. Like– You could be saving Hitler.”

“Oh.” he exclaims, the younger’s new perspective sinking in him; then, he releases a deep breath. “This is, like, pointless. Whatever my answer is you’re going to find a way to make it seem wrong!” he accuses, right at the same time the red light brightens in the semaphore. “Come.” he starts walking, aware of the cars coming to a stop by their right side and keeping an eye on them with his peripheral, just in case. Jungkook follows close behind him.

“I’m not making it seem wrong!” he goes defensive, “I’m just telling you all the possibilities.” and then, reasons, as if he really wasn’t arguing with every single response Jimin gave, just to tease.

“Right.” Jimin smiles, climbing the steps that leads to the courtyard of the mall. It’s large, and mainly paved, but in the corners some trees make their existence known by portraying a vivid green that catches the peripheral vision’s attention. “What did you choose anyway?”

“Me? The potion.”

Jimin looks back at him. “Seriously? Why?”

“It’s math.” he puts his hand with the palms up in front of him, representing a metaphorical balance. “One thousand people, only one person…” he takes his left hand down to express the bigger weight a thousand means. Jimin shrugs.

“I bet in the real situation you’d save the baby.” he confidently lets slip from his mouth, and he doesn’t understand exactly why. He doesn’t even know Jungkook that much to be making this kind of assumption. “You’re too soft.” He mentally reprimands himself for not using “you seem too soft”, hoping Jungkook didn’t take it as an offense.

They finally reach the entrance’s door, the motion sensor attached to it making it automatically slide open for them. The inner air conditioner blows cold breaths to the back of Jimin’s warm neck as soon as he steps inside the mall, providing a soft chill to run down his arms due to the slight termic change.

“I like to think I’m the type of logical and reasonable person.” Comes Jungkook’s reply, responsible for Jimin’s little chuckles.

“Sure you are.” He teases, looking around the place only to come to the sense he has no idea what they’re up to. “Um, Jungkook?” the younger raises his eyebrows at him, “What are we doing now?”

“Oh.” He looks around as if he had just realized they walked 15 minutes to end up in the middle of the mall, clueless where to go from there. “Right. Guess we… walk around to find your perfect match for a first date?”

“Oh.” Jimin almost forgot the whole purpose of they going out together. “Right.”

“Okay, let’s go grab some ice cream and then we can eat it at the food court while we analyze the guys around us.”

Jimin has to force himself not to cringe much apparently. “This sounds so awkward.” He states, following Jungkook till the escalator on the other side of the place. “It’s like a real life tinder. A terrible idea, if you want my opinion.”

He hears Jungkook laughing and the sound stirs something inside him.

It’s a… a nice sound.

“Come on, let’s give it a shot.” Jungkook steps aside to allow Jimin to go up the stair first. He hides the blush the action causes on him by scratching his cheek and diverting his gaze.

“Ah!” Jimin exclaims and points to the bowling place he spots while trying not to get all red. “Look, look! Oh, wehave to go!” he hears Jungkook’s giggle and turns around to face the boy, but if regret killed he’d sure have a heart attack and pass out right away, cause Jungkook’s face is so close to his that he can feel all his effort to not blush seconds ago jumping right off the window. He has to hold all the air into his lungs in order to not let a pathetic squeak escape his mouth.

Jungkook is standing on the lower step, so that creates a height difference in which Jimin is taller and, somehow, this stirs inside him the desire to wrap his hands around Jungkook’s neck and pull him closer for a kiss. He wants to feel Jungkook’s hands squeezing his waist, and then his strong arms encircling his body so there’s not an inch of space between them.

I’m losing it, I’m definitely losing it. What the hell is happening?!

“Jimin?”

Taehyung told me about this once. He said when the attraction is too strong we call it infatuation. This is what this is. Infatuation.

“Um, Jimin?”

I fucking hate infatuation.

He’s so pretty.

“Jimin, oh my god!”

Jimin belatedly realizes with a pinch of panic that they reached the top of the stair while he was in the middle of his existential crisis, and, as he is facing Jungkook – consequently with his back to the front of the stair –, his feet collides with the edge of the last step, getting him to lose balance. His ass is most definitely meant to find the ground with all its gravity’s force, but Jungkook is the one by his side – the one trying to defy everything Jimin ever believed in his entire life –, so of course Jungkook is going to catch him right before he falls, with his arms completely wrapped around Jimin’s waist, their chests gluing for a second way too long, because he has to get in the way of normalcy, he has to make Jimin feel like he’s into the most cliché drama, he has to make Jimin want to punch him all over just so he can kiss it better later.

“Ah, sorry.” He pulls away embarrassed the instant he regains his balance – stepping firmly on the ground –, and starts to walk so they don’t block the way.

The younger smiles and follows beside him. “It’s nothing, don’t worry.” Jimin scrunches his nose in pre-discomfort for the question he knows it is to come. “But what were you thinking about? I mean, I called you twice, you were totally not hearing me.”

“Bowling.” Jimin straightforward lies. “I was thinking how cool would be to beat you up.”

Jungkook scoffs in fake offense and thankfully doesn’t realize Jimin’s nervousness. “As if. And for your information, I was just telling you on that stairs when you were not listening to me,” he pinpoints, getting Jimin to roll his eyes, “that you’re lucky I have no money right now, because I’d definitely take you and kick your ass in that bowling alley if I did.”

“Well, I’d love to see you try to do that.”

Jungkook stops on his track, forcing Jimin to do the same, so he can look back at the older with a pair of false shocked eyes. “Are you challenging me?”

Jimin smiles mischievously. “I don’t know. Am I?”

“Okay, you’re asking for it. We’ll come back here next week, and then, I’m going to show you I don’t joke around in service.”

“Good.” Jimin shrugs and smirks. “Neither do I, beautiful.”

He smiles when he sees pink dust reddening Jungkook’s cheeks at the pet name. As if he’s going to let this nerd turn him into a bubbling, gushy mess and detach himself from his flirting manners. He has a reputation to keep up with and he is so very much pleased to go and do just that.

“Good. It’s a deal, then.” Jungkook playfully extends a hand for Jimin to shake. And that’s how they end up holding hands in the most natural way. “Now let’s find you a date. But first, where do you wanna have ice cream?”

Jimin looks around, pursing his lips while he analyzes each shop. “Oh!” he spots a particular one that catches his attention and points “There! It’s a ice cream shop, isn’t it?” The name looks German, Jimin has never seen it before.

Jungkook looks back at him shocked, “What, there?! Are you rich or you truly don’t feel sorry for your poor limited money as an university student?”

“What, why?!” Jimin pouts. “The logo looks cute…”

“Yeah, I bet they’ll charge you at least 22000 won just for walking around with their cute logo.” Jimin sticks his tongue out at the mockery. “Okay, here are your options. Burger King or McDonald’s?”

“Ew.” He scowls and restarts to walk. “McDonald’s, obviously.”

Jungkook laughs.

“What’s the problem with Burger King’s ice cream?”

Jimin stares at him as if he just asked why chocolate tastes so good.

“Because it sucks.” He says plainly, with a straight face.

“Jimin.” Jungkook pauses. “It tastes exactly the same.”

The older fleers sarcastically. “It so does not.” They stop in front of the counter of the fast food, and as it is a week day, they don’t have to wait in line. “I’m going to show you. I’m buying mine here and you’re buying yours there.” Jungkook shrugs with indifference. “You’re so going to want to have half of mine after I prove I’m right.” Jimin insists stubbornly and turns to face the cashier, putting a sympathetic smile on his face right away. “Hello, good afternoon.” He bows slightly. Jungkook doesn’t miss how the man behind the counter blushes faintly.

“Good afternoon. May I take your order?”

“Ah, yes. I’ll want a McFlurry. The one with oreo.”

“Sure. Money or card?”

Jimin is about to answer he is paying with money when he feels one of Jungkook’s hand curl around the curve on the left side of his waist, his chin coming to softly rest on his shoulder.

“Ah… Sorry, money.” He finally answers after snapping out of his mild state of sudden awareness. What is he doing?

He handles the cashier the notes while Jungkook snuggles closer to him, which gets him wondering if the boy is trying to bring his heart to a stop or something. “You’re warm.” Jimin hears his murmur. “’m tired.” Oh. Right. Of course. Why else he’d half backhug him in public? Still, his back kind of tingles from where it touches Jungkook’s chest. He’s caught between hating it and loving it. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s okay.” Jimin reassures him. After all, he is feeling the butterflies on his stomach and that’s what he is always looking for, right?

So why the fuck it feels so uncomfortable?

The cashier hands Jimin his change after typing his order on the computer screen, together with his invoice. He thanks the man and walks to the counter part where he is supposed to wait for his ice cream. Jungkook doesn’t let go of him. Instead, he places the hand he had hanging in the air on the other side of Jimin’s waist, sliding them to the front of his belly, so he’s wrapping him in a full backhug now. He doesn’t resist the urge to take his hand to Jungkook’s forearm and caress it with his thumb – it’s almost like an instinctive response, and it scares him how familiar, yet new, it feels. They stay like that for some more time, until a girl approaches them from behind the counter with Jimin’s order in hands. He thanks her with a bow and takes it.

“Um, Jungkook?” he calls when the boy doesn’t mention to move from his spot behind him.

“Mhm?”

“You kinda need to let me go if we want to go order yours.”

Jimin hears the boy murmur something on his shoulder that sounds a lot like “don’t wanna”.

“What?” he asks in order to know if he heard right.

“Don’t wanna move, let’s just order mine here too.”

Jimin smirks in victory. “So you admit I won and that the ice cream here tastes best?”

But the way Jungkook nuzzles against his neck and whispers a soft ‘sure’ against his skin actually has his heart skipping a beat instead of warming up in pleasure at the self gain for his competitive ass. He allows a waverly “okay” to slip from his throat and calls the attendant again.

It’s so fucking hard to deal with Jungkook. If he was blatantly flirting with Jimin, having a smirk adorning his lips and an ambiguous tone in his voice, it’d make everything a million times easier. Jimin would respond with the same intentions, they would hook up and that was that. But no. Fucking no. Jeon Jungkook has to be the softest boy Jimin has ever known, he has to be so genuine to the point Jimin doesn’t know if he’s hitting on him or just being himself. How can he be sure Jungkook doesn’t backhug and nuzzle against the neck of all of his friends this casually? It probably means nothing to him, yet here it is Jimin doing an analysis out of such a stupid and simple thing. How pathetic, really.

“It’s going to melt all over the cup if you don’t eat it.” Jungkook says when he realizes Jimin hasn’t even touched his ice cream yet.

“Oh. Right.” He ignores the spoon placed on the side and licks the top, having the sweet taste of vanilla overwhelming his senses for a second. God, he really likes sweet things. “Ah, it’s so good.” he comments, “I haven’t eaten ice cream in a while.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, just hums to express he heard and moves closer to Jimin to find a better position for his face on his shoulder. Jimin is scared the boy might drift off to sleep, so he turns his head to see if his eyes are closed and is surprised to find the younger’s gaze laying over him. He is quick to look away.

“Ah, sorry, I… I wasn’t staring, I just… Your cheek looks soft.”

Jimin fights a smile when he spots Jungkook’s skin reddening. He detaches from the boy just enough to fully face him. “What?” he asks, and hears a stupid smile on his voice. He sounds more amused than he should be. And he actually is.

Jungkook doesn’t meet his eyes, instead he keeps wandering with them everywhere but Jimin’s face. “You… you had a thing on your cheek, but then I thought it looked soft, that’s all.” He tries to explain, but Jimin’s enjoying it all too much already.

He nods cynically, and diverts his eyes from the boy’s face, just at the time the attendant comes again with Jungkook’s order. Jungkook takes it and lets go of Jimin, so they can walk to a table.

“Yeah, right, you can just say you were mesmerized by my pretty face, there’s no problem in it.” He jokes and takes a mouthful of ice cream till his lips with the plastic spoon.

Jimin can’t help but feel rather empty and cold where Jungkook’s body was glued to his – yet, he shoves down the feeling somewhere deep into his gut. Maybe that’ll stop his stomach from unreasonably acting like a starving jellyfish, all bubbly and soft.

Jungkook scoffs besides him. “Gahah!” he mocks childishly and Jimin fails to keep the endearing glow away from his eyes, so he just focuses on watching the people around him instead, “You wish…” The younger mutters while stuffing a spoon of ice cream on his mouth. Jimin wants to ask how old is he and pinch his cheeks just for the pleasure to rile him up more, but he also doesn’t want to stretch the subject too much, so he lets it die with a low hum.

They find a place to sit soon after, and it’s actually one of the furthest tables from where people is hanging out. Jimin thinks the choice is weird if they’re going to try and find him a date, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“So? How is it?” he asks when they settle on a pair of chairs next to each other.

“Good.” Jungkook leans towards him. “Let me taste yours.” He opens his mouth, waiting for Jimin to feed him like a child.

“How old are you?” Jimin chuckles, taking a spoon to the younger’s mouth nonetheless.

Sulky, Jungkook frowns. “Have you never heard the saying that says someone else’s food always tastes better? Huh, huh?” he questions, mouth full. “And I’m twenty, for your information.”

Jimin is unable to contain the smile on his lips. He is sure twenty years’ olders shouldn’t sulk in the middle of the day with vanilla’s broth of the ice cream they’re messily eating sliding down their lips, but, perhaps, in Jungkook’s conception they do.

“Sure you are.” He says, bringing his thumb to wipe the mess Jungkook made over his lips, unconsciously taking the finger to his own mouth afterwards. He belatedly realizes how intimate the act is, but pretends it’s not a big deal by pointing at a random guy in front of them with his chin, so he can try and not die of embarrassment.

Jungkook is confused at first, still startled by the sudden display of intimacy. “What?”

“Him. For my date.” Jimin babbles the first thing on his mind. “What do you think?”

“Oh…” Jungkook exclaims, his eyes drifting to the guy again. He’s tall – taller than Jimin, at least, but it’s not like this is immensely hard –, has a shiny black hair that has Jungkook uncomfortably ruffling his own opaque one, is handsome and he is definitely gay. Well, if he is not, he would definitely be for Jimin.

“Not that one, he’s not gay.” Jungkook refuses right away.

“Really?” Jimin looks back at Jungkook surprised.

“Really.”

“But I was so sure… I’ve always thought I was very good at this.”

Jungkook shakes his head without a tip of blame on his blatant lie.

“No, I’m the best on this, trust me, he’s not.”

Jimin narrows his eyes, suspicious. “Why are you the best? You don’t seem the type to approach the guys you’re interested in to be the best at knowing this.”

Jungkook laughs, pulling a facade of confidence he has never used before. “Please. I’m definitely this type.”

He’s such a bad liar.

Jimin places the cup of ice cream on the table and crosses his arms to completely face Jungkook, not seeming the least convinced. “Liar.”

“It’s true! I hit on guys all the time! And always on the right ones.” Jungkook nods with a cocked eyebrow and a smug demeanour that he prays is enough to convince Jimin. But apparently it is not.

“I don’t believe you.” He, then, uncrosses his arms and pulls one leg up the chair to turn his body fully to Jungkook. “Hit on me.”

Jungkook almost chokes halfway his spoon of ice cream. He looks at Jimin with wide eyes. “What?!”

“Come on, flirt with me. I’m the type who always waits for guys to approach me in the club, so I’m a pretty good judge whether the flirting is good or not. I’ve got a lot of experience.” He reasons, for validation.

Jungkook swallows, completely taken off guard. “Ah… Ah, um, okay.” He nervously looks at Jimin’s face clueless of what to do next. Jimin quirks an eyebrow at him in response and Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Come on, you flirty monster. Show me what you got.” He teases him, clearly amused by the situation.

But Jeon Jungkook never loses. Or so he tells himself. Either way, that’s what impells him to take a deep breath, calming his nerves, so he can cup Jimin’s jawline with one hand and slide it to the back of his neck  to bring the boy closer and not allow him to focus on anything else.

Jimin’s heart stops on his track. His breath catches on his throat and he’s scared his expression is giving away how fucking nervous he suddenly is. Jungkook is so close, and his cold hand slightly caressing his nape is doing nothing to ease the urge on his gut to grab the younger by the shoulders and kiss him breathless right there. Jimin can’t help but allow his eyes to drop and stare at Jungkook’s lips for an instant. They shine so red and seem so soft it’s physically painful for him to stay in that position. He bites the inner part of his bottom lip to remain with the plain expression.

“Hey there beautiful.” Jungkook murmurs, but if Jimin is being completely honest, he seems just as stunned as he himself is.

“Hey.” He responds, a lot more weakly than he intended.

Then, Jungkook goes silent. He goes silent and stares at Jimin as if he’s seeing his favorite flower for the first time – Jimin could risk to say the boy is in awe, but he thinks that would be pushing too hard; and a little bit of an overstatement too. So he settles for the most reasonable option that is Jungkook realizing he has no flirting skills or whatsoever and finding himself in the middle of a mental breakdown with no pick up line to use on Jimin. That could only be it. Jimin is halfway the process of convincing himself when Jungkook’s grip on his nape tighten just the slightest and his lips part, but no sound falls out of it. He watches intently as the younger’s mouth open and close in the most delicate of ways, trying to find the sentences he’s probably mustering in his mind. Jimin is almost entranced, so that’s why when Jungkook speaks it takes so long for the words to sink in him.

“You… you have the most beautiful eyes.”

Jimin blinks once. He blinks twice. And then all the nervousness bubbling inside his stomach exposes its ugly face by urging him to laugh out loud and he completely hates it, but he can’t stop himself. He’s so nervous his fingertips are tingling and he doesn’t know exactly how to act from there. No one has ever complimented his eyes, much less told him they were the most beautiful.

“What’s funny?” Jungkook asks. Jimin spares him a glance and is thankful to find out the boy doesn’t seem hurt or annoyed, just genuinely confused.

He tries to find his better way out of the situation. “Nothing, just… Are you trying to get laid or find a boyfriend?”

At that, Jungkook flushes. He mutters under his breath, “Who knows…”

Jimin looks at him startled. “What?!”

“What?!” Jungkook repeats on the same tone getting Jimin to lightly punch him on the shoulder.

“Brat.”

The boy scratches the back of his neck and looks away. Jimin doesn’t put much analysis into it. He follows the younger’s gaze until it stops at one boy a few tables across from them.

“There. Your guy.” Jungkook says all of a sudden.

Jimin acknowledges they’re not going to comment on Jungkook’s failed attempt to hit on him by an unspoken and mutual agreement. The moment was weird enough, despite Jimin’s laugher having eased the mood naturally. They didn’t need to stretch the matter for more awkward topics to surge from it. Maybe it also got Jungkook nervous – but for all the different reasons, Jimin supposes.

“What? Him?” he questions, in disbelief. “Jungkook, that guy is not gay.“

“He is.”

“He is not!”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“To be honest?”

“Okay, don’t answer that.”

Jimin shakes his head as laugher spills past his lips. He eyes the stranger Jungkook wants him to approach one more time. He’s relatively shorter than the first guy Jimin picked – totally not his type, but he has an open mind towards that –, has a dark blond hair that looks pretty good on him and an expression that definitely says “don’t come near me unless you want to be kicked”.

“Yeah, I’m not going there.”

Jungkook snorts beside him, but he doesn’t look exactly frustrated.

“Why not? He’s cute.”

“Yeah…” That wasn’t the word Jimin would use to describe the guy. “He’s not my type.”

“What?” Jungkook turns his body to completely face him. “You’re too picky!”

Jimin absorbs the sight in front of him for an instant – Jungkook has an arm resting on the backrest of the chair and the other placed on the table’s surface in a way it has all his muscles flexing. He bites his lips and diverts his gaze. Fuck, it all would be so much easier if Jungkook just wanted to fuck him. He was so hot.

“I’m not picky… I just have a type I prefer. I bet you do too.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer, just smirks as if he knows something Jimin doesn’t. “Okay, so apparently we won’t get anything here, let’s walk around.”

Jimin already feels all his force leaving him, because has he really just heard the word walk?

“Why do you hate me…” he whines and pouts. “We just walked a thousand miles to get here and you already want to walk again!”

Jungkook fucking laughs and pinches his cheeks. “Ah, cute.”

Jimin slaps his hand away, flushing. “Yah!”

“Ah, come on, hyung…” the younger pleas, and Jimin pulls out his best puppy eyes in order to convince him to remain where they are, comfortably sitting on those cozy chairs – they’re not cozy really, but after walking that long distance for twenty minutes under the scorching sun any object with a slightly fluffy surface is synonymous to coziest place to sit. “Please?”

Jimin snorts. Unbelievable. “Fine.” He says in between his teeth. Blame his weakness on Jungkook’s sparkling eyes. What the hell? By any chance, has he the universe hidden in them or something? “But I'mma finish my ice cream first.”

Jungkook smiles the brightest smile of the day.

“Okay!”

The mall was oddly empty for a friday afternoon, but thanks to that it was possible for the boys to absorb every detail of the deserted corridors. They found out some shops they didn’t even know it existed until today. Jungkook was watching everything with no particular interest – for God’s sake Jimin was right there by his side –, but Jimin was watching everything as if he had never been to a mall before.

“What is that?” Jimin points to a particular facade that catches the attention for the dark colors and creepy decoration.

Jungkook frows before it comes to him.

“Oh. It’s a haunted house.”

Jimin mouth drops. “No way.”

“What?”

“I’ve always wanted to go to a haunted house!” he slightly jumps in excitement by Jungkook’s side.

“Have you never been to a mall before?” Jungkook voices his genuine curiosity.

Jimin blushes and his eyes fall to the ground as if he was cut off in the middle of a speech about a thing he loves too dearly. Jungkook instantly regrets the question, his chest constricting at the sight of the embarrassed boy.

“I have, but… This feels different… somehow.”

Jungkook’s heart loses no time at responding to Jimin’s phrase, racing as if the older had just kissed him on the forehead. He wants to ask why it feels different, but he thinks he has intruded too much already.

“I’m sorry, that was rude to ask.”

“No, it wasn’t, it’s okay.” Jimin smiles his characteristic smile.

They fall silent for a moment and Jungkook hates himself even before the words get out of his mouth.

“Why does it feels different?”

Jimin is visibly flustered; caught off guard by a question he apparently doesn’t have the answer. He doesn’t look Jungkook in the eyes, blushing so hard the pink spreads to his ears.

“Well… Um, I don’t know? Like… just… different.” He bites his bottom lip, aware he didn’t answer Jungkook’s question: why? “Um… I… I… I don’t know, maybe because, like, I have never walked around like this, or… talked so much even while eating or… I don’t know, it just feels different, and I really really want to go to that haunted house, let’s go.” he grabs Jungkook’s hands in hurry, walking fast and pulling the younger with him.

Jungkook has to contain his smile, so he doesn’t get too obvious – or delusional. He doesn’t want to presume things just to find himself wrong in the end, but it’s kinda hard when Jimin gets so flustered at a simple question and so desperate to change subjects. Jungkook watches the tensioned boy’s back in front of him, covered by a loose white t-shirt, giving the illusion his shoulders are even smaller. Jungkook loves it. He watches his nape, almost entirely covered by long strands of black hair and feels nothing but the urge to run with his lips over its soft skin, observe as Jimin’s arm hairs bristle at the touch, how his breath will probably catch in his throat and how he’ll melt when Jungkook encircles his waist with his arms, bringing him closer. He know he will. He is sure Jimin’s attracted to him too. The problem is, that’s not the only thing Jungkook wants. He wants to kiss Jimin breathless, take off his clothes and fuck the breath out of him, of course he wants, but he also wants to kiss him dearly, spend an entire night talking over the phone, nevermind the morning classes. He wants to feel what all the cliché stories tell, wants to cuddle under a warm blanket because they turned the ac to its maximum, watching some poor show Netflix decided to produce. He wants it all and not just because he is desperate for a love story. He wants it all because he is desperate for Jimin. He doesn’t know if that should scare him, but it doesn’t. Maybe he is insane, completely infatuated for a boy that is not really a boy, but an angel; or Jimin is the Romilda Vane of this story and made him drink a love potion – in any of the ways, he can’t fight the truth. He is head over heels for a sweet smile, loving eyes and a melodic laugh that keeps ringing on his ears even in the quiet. He is head over heels for the plump lips, the tiny nose and the chubby fingers.

He is completely fucked up. He knows. Falling for a boy who doesn’t do relationships. Who has only done one night stands all his life; attached to the feelings, but not to the people.

What the hell is he supposed to do?

“Two tickets, please.” Jimin’s voice draws him out of his reveries.

“Are we really going?” he asks surprised. For what he knows about Jimin, the boy can’t even watch some horror movie without shrinking every ten seconds.

Jimin stares back at him as if the question was a challenge.

“Duh? Of course.”

The man inside the decorated cabin smiles creepily at them accordingly to his character – as he is supposed to do working on a haunted house. Talking about character, Jungkook is not entirely sure about what the man is disguised as. His face is painted completely white with a mix of black and red paint around his eyes. For a child, it’d look very terrifying, like someone had tried to rip his eyes off and failed, so just the dry blood and black bruises remained – for Jungkook (and he considers himself an adult) it just looks like a very very very bad makeup. He doesn’t flinch when the man murmurs “Are you sure?” for Jimin’s request of tickets, but the older takes a step back, hitting Jungkook’s chest behind him. Enjoying the situation, he laughs.

“You okay there, hyung?”

Jimin gulps. “Shut up.” he redirects himself to the man in front of him, “And yes, I’m sure. Two tickets, please.” he repeats more confidently.

Jungkook smiles softly and places his hand over Jimin’s lower back, absently drawing patterns on it with his thumb. The air that enters his lungs is filled with the scent of Jimin’s shampoo and he feels completely intoxicated by it. It gets his heart fluttering, squeezing in a manner that’s way too familiar inside his chest. He breathes in one more time. And another. Suddenly, an addict. He wants to feel it glued to his pillows, to his clothes. Maybe he’s overreacting. He feels like he is, but he also doesn’t give a single shit, because right now Jimin is staring with loving eyes straight to his face and Jungkook swears he could kiss him right there with no hesitation or whatsoever.

“Jungkook!” Jimin stomps his feet and calls him in a tone that’s supposed to sound annoyed – but he’s giggling, so it sounds just as adorable. Jungkook feels like it’s the third time his name is being called. He smiles.

“Yes?”

“What’s gotten you so into yourself?! Let’s go!”

Jimin grabs his forearm and starts walking towards the entrance. Jungkook is glad he didn’t wait for an answer, because he had any other apart from the truth. He allows himself to be guided, whilst his palm itches to be pulled up so it can hold Jimin’s hand, but he stops midway the action – he wants to see if Jimin is going to do it by himself.

It’s not an attitude out of pride or pettiness. Jungkook is just genuinely curious about how mutual his feelings are – if it’s any.

However, he finds himself licking his lips in anticipation, heart squeezing inside his chest when time enough passes and Jimin’s hand remains firm and still on his forearm. He has to disguise the disappointment on his face, so it doesn’t become perceptible and ruin the mood.

As they walk further into the house, the lights start to vanish more and more, until Jungkook can only make out the outline of Jimin’s profile in the dark. It’s unsettling – he has to admit –, someone could easily slip behind his back and stab him in this darkness, so his sensors get him on alert mode.

Eventually, Jimin lets go of his arm, but his body continues glued by his side. He gulps down the bad taste on his tongue – it wasn’t mutual after all. Jungkook was sure their tones had always been provocative enough to be considered casual, but he should have known Jimin was a natural – flirting was just like an involuntary action for him, it didn’t mean anything further from that. He should have known he was the only one affecting. God. How stupid.

“Jungkookie?” comes Jimin’s whisper. Jungkook only then realizes the quietness of the place – Jimin’s voice sounded so loud it seemed like he had just screamed.

“Yes?”

“I think I’m regretting this, I wanna go back.” he keeps whispering, sounding frightened to the bones. Jungkook feels Jimin’s hand searching for his in the dark, so he pulls back in a quick motion and scratches his nape.

Jimin turns around to look at him and he can’t actually make out the other’s expression in the shadows, but something inside him tells Jimin looks caught between being surprised and hurt. Jungkook averts his gaze, even though there’s nowhere else to look.

“Okay. Let’s go back.”

Jimin is about to say something, when they hear nails scratching a near wall and Jungkook actually cringes. What a motherfucking sound, it hurts his ears.

He starts to walk back to the entrance, Jimin’s steps following suit behind him. It’s not long after that he hits a wall he’s sure it’s not supposed to be there since they only walked forward, not having taken any curve or whatsoever.

“Uh, hyung?”

“What is it, what’s this?” Jimin asks with a trembling voice and Jungkook’s hearts aches with need to hold him into his arms. He sighs.

“I think they locked the entrance. We can’t go back unless we reach the end.”

“ What?! They fucking did what?!”

“Well, guess you shouldn’t have chosen the ‘most scary, don’t pee in your pants’ option.”

“I… I…” Jimin ducks his head and he seems so small. “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook sighs once again, looking away. “It’s okay. We just gotta get to the end. Let’s go.”

Jimin fiddles with his shirt before he decides to move, letting out a weak “okay” from his lips.

A tiny bit of what it seems like a guilty feeling sets inside Jungkook’s stomach, but he ignores it and keeps walking. He has nothing to be guilty for, if Jimin doesn’t feel the same he does, then he has no business in comforting him, right?

But he regrets the thoughts the moment they are born in his mind, and asks himself when he became so selfish and self-centered he can’t even take an unrequited crush without turning into a bitter 14 year old.

“Are the boys scared?” comes a weird voice out of nowhere and it resonates through the whole place. “Come, walk to me.”

Jimin jumps on his place. “Shit.” he has a hand over his chest.

Jungkook looks around to search the source of the voice, but finds no one. Of course he doesn’t, he can’t see shit.

“Here, hyung.” he swallows his pride. “Hold my hand.”

However Jimin walks straight up his extended fingers. “No, thanks.”

His words are harsh, but he sounds more pouty than anything else.

“Why not?” Jungkook follows him and tries not to sound offended.

“If you didn’t want to hold it before, I don’t want you to hold it out of pity now.”

Jungkook closes his eyes and allows himself to feel bad. He is seriously so stupid. What is he supposed to say? “I didn’t want to hold it, because you didn’t hold before and I assumed that because of that you didn’t like me the way I do”?

God, it sounds even more stupid when he puts it into actual words.

“What you talking about…” he says instead, but he sounds way too guilty to not know what he’s talking about, so he adds. “I just went to scratch my neck, it was itching.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Jimin mumbles while still walking ahead of him.

Jungkook grabs his arm so he can stop and look at him. “Are you seriously going to be mad at me because of this?” Closer like this, and after being on the darkness for a while, Jungkook can see Jimin’s face better. He senses a faint smile coming to claim his lips when he sees the older’s cute frown, so he fights it. “Don’t give me that face…” he can’t resist the urge to caress the boy’s cheeks with a thumb.

“m’ not mad.”

Jungkook straightforward smiles this time.

“Then why you pouting?”

“m’ not pouting either.”

“Sure, you’re not.” he chuckles, all of his worries suddenly erased by round pink cheeks.

“Why you laughing? I’m really not mad so let’s go.” Jimin grabs Jungkook’s hand on his face and pulls him forward with him.

“Thought you didn’t want to hold my hand…” Jungkook mutters teasingly, just to be slapped on the arm afterwards.

“Shut up.” he returns his focus to the front, body still stiff. “Bet the ghosts took advantage of we arguing to hide better.” he whispers. “Yah!” he suddenly yells at the nothing. “Where you assholes at?! Show up already, we paid you!”

“Hyung, you know they’re not real ghosts, right?”

“Of fucking course. This tension is killing me. Where’s the end of this shit.”

Jungkook laughs. “You swear a lot more when you’re scared.”

Jimin looks back at him with an insulted air. “Who’s scared here– AH!” he jolts and goes to hind behind the younger while frantically trying to wipe something off his nape, startling Jungkook. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck–”

“What, what?” he asks, trying to help him with the thing on his neck, but when he passes with his palm over it, it’s clean and dry. “What is it?”

“Just felt a cold breath on it, what the fuck.” he stops rubbing at the skin to look back. “Who’s there, you fuckin’ dipshit, what the fuck! Touch me and you’re dead, I'mma deck you right in the fucking face!”

Jungkook throws his head back and doesn’t hold his laugh. “Hyung, oh my god, calm down. You’re actually paying them to scare you.” Jimin doesn’t seem to care, still trying to find out who supposedly blown a breath on his neck. “And with whom you’re talking to, oh god.”

“These fuckers… They playin’ me.”

Jungkook doubles over, still laughing in the dead silent place. “Oh my god… I so wasn’t expecting this kind of reaction.”

Jimin blatantly ignores him, too focused on his pissed state of mind to hear, “Come.” he says and takes Jungkook’s hands, stomping down towards the end of the place.

But nearly a second after, someone hidden in the shadows grabs Jimin’s shin and climbs his leg by gripping his thigh with long and disgusting nails. Jungkook only has the time to look down and see a fake ass zombie makeup before Jimin as much as sinkshis knee on the guy’s face. A whimper of pain is heard throughout the entire place followed by the man falling down on the ground covering his nose.

“Oh my god?!” Jungkook gasps, utterly shocked. “Jimin!”

“Oh my god!” Jimin echoes him when reality crashes upon him and he realizes he had just kicked an employee on the face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry–” he kneels before the guy, trying to take his hands away from his face so they can know the damage done. “Please, I’m so sorry, let me see how bad it is.” his voice is full of concern, and no matter how serious the situation is, Jungkook can’t help but be filled with an absurd want to laugh. Seriously, what the fuck. Who in the world pays to go into a haunted house and straightforward kicks someone in the face when getting scared?! Jungkook shakes his head watching the scene. He sure as hell got himself into a lot of trouble, so he doesn’t know how to explain why he is smiling.

•••

“I’d call that iconic. What about you?” Jungkook has been teasing Jimin for the past 20 minutes about his sudden outburst of violence in the haunted house.

“Shut up.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re changing the ‘most scary, don’t pee in your pants’ to ‘most scary, don’t kick us in the face’.”

Jimin huffs with something that Jungkook doesn’t distinguishes as a cry or a chuckle. Maybe both. When he looks back, the older has his face covered by tiny hands. “I’m so awful. Someone should prohibit me from walking out of home. I’m a threat.”

Jungkook giggles, taking the boy’s wrists on his hands and delicately pulling them down. “Believe me, you’re anything but a threat.”

Jimin scoffs, offended. “I just kicked a innocent on the face! I almost broke his nose. God, I’m lucky they didn’t call the cops or something.” he cries.

“Jimin.” Jungkook laughs in endearment. “It’s not that serious. He’s okay. You’re okay. Everyone’s okay. No need to suffer.”

“But–” the guy sulks, and for some reason Jungkook can’t explain he presses his thumb over his mouth. The sensation of Jimin’s lips against his skin tickles and burns, but he does his best not to show. Jimin looks up at him with big eyes that seem to reflect all the lights around them. He’s in a loss for words, suddenly aware of how close they are. He tries to inhale as much air as he can without being noticed and slides his thumb over Jimin’s entire lips’ length, back and forth.

“No pouting.” he whispers, letting his hand fall to Jimin’s shoulder.

“No pouting.” the older repeats. “Why not?”

Too cute for me to resist.

“You’re prettier smiling.” he lies. Jimin’s beautiful in every single way.

“You calling me ugly when pouting?!”

“No, just– Prettier. I said prettier!”

“So, you calling me beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, absolutely mesmerizing, that takes your breath away?” he dramatizes with a giggle, but Jungkook is unable to deny.

“Yes.”

At that, Jimin falls silent – his smile disappearing in tune with his cheeks reddening.

Jungkook bites his lower lip, hearing his heart beat on his throat, and takes the hand on Jimin’s shoulder to the back of his neck. He curls his fingers on the boy’s hair resting there and feels slightly overwhelmed by the softness of it. Jimin is watching him with parted red lips and a pair of rosy cheeks that gets Jungkook closing the distance between them in a second. But before their lips can touch, he hears Taehyung’s deep voice screaming his name resound through the entire place. Jungkook all but jumps on his spot, jolting Jimin too, who instantly detaches himself from his arms. Jungkook pretend the action doesn’t hurt him like a punch in the gut. When he looks back, Taehyung is bouncing his way till them while waving like an excited child – big smile glued to his lips. Jungkook feels his cheeks heating and scratches his nape, not throwing a single glance towards Jimin.

“Jungkookie! Oh. And Jiminie too, what a meeting!” he reaches them and it’s only then Jungkook realizes he’s got company.

“Hey!” he forces a smile into him he sure as hell doesn’t want to give. Actually, he could pretty much just happily pretend Taehyung’s face is a  ball and offer it to the World Cup to play its matches with it. For free. But he’s a polite man – as polite as burping in public is considered –, so he just tilts his head to the other man by Taehyung’s side and doesn’t let his smile falter before his beauty. It never faltered beside Jimin, so it shouldn’t now. “Hello you.”

The blonde guy ducks his head in greeting. “Hello, I’m Taemin, a friend of Taehyung’s friend.” he chuckles, “I just moved into the town, nice to meet you!” his smile is so sweet Jungkook’s bitterness for the interruption almost melts.

“Ah! Nice to meet you, I’m Jungkook!”

“I know, Taehyung has only been talking ‘bout you all day.”

“He can’t help it, he’s head over heels for me.”

Taehyung scoffs. They both laugh and Taemin redirects his gaze to Jimin. “And you must be Jimin… Taehyung should have told me he had a friend this gorgeous.”

Jungkook frowns, offended, but looks away so no one notices.

“Ah, thank you.” Jimin says in that flushed tone he uses when Jungkook makes him embarrassed. It’s awkward to see it directed to someone else. “It’s nice to meet you, Taemin-ssi.”

They exchange smiles for way too long to be casual in Jungkook’s opinion, until Taehyung interrupts:

“So? Are you two on a date?”

Taemin seems suddenly taken aback by this question, and, somehow, this just makes Jungkook more pissed – the clear interest of Taemin in Jimin, for some reason, making him feel extremely uncomfortable on his own skin. Maybe is because Taemin is too pretty.

He doesn’t know what gets into him. He wants more than ever to confirm, to say that yes, they are on a date.But, perhaps he’s too scared to hear Jimin’s voice denying it. It may hurt more than he expects. So instead he just shifts his gaze to the ground and mutters:

“As if.”

By the way Jimin’s posture changes beside him, it seems like he’s offended – maybe even hurt –, but Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to look him in the face, so he remains on his position and waits for the older to say something.

“Ah…” his voice seems small, “Yes,” but it quickly lights up again as its usual, “Jungkook was just trying to be my cupid, but I think we got too lost in the wonders of the mall.” he giggles cutely and Jungkook all but instantly feels guilty about his previous answer. A simple ‘no, we’re not’ would have done it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Cupid?” Taehyung’s voice peaks with interest. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook tries to make it up for his harsh tone before and answers softly:

“Jimin has never gone to a date before. So I was trying to set him up with someone to prove a point.”

“Which is?” Taemin takes part in the conversation, and it doesn’t matter how much he wants to, Jungkook can’t bring himself to talk dryly at him. His features are too nice. And even though he knows he shouldn’t let himself be swept away for a cute face so easily, he was never able to help it.

“That dates are cool.”

Taemin nods in agreement. “Oh, yeah, dates are cool.”

“See?!” Jungkook takes the chance to reafirm his point, to which Jimin just roll his eyes.

“But are you sure you two weren’t on a date? Looking by far, I’d say you two were pretty close to not be on a date.” Taehyung insists.

Jimin ducks his head, cheeks pink, and it falls on Jungkook to come up with a lie. He doesn’t even know why he’s lying to begin with. But still.

“Told you we’re not.” Jungkook stutters, when he remembers in which position Taehyung found them, but then he reassures himself it’s all good by also remembering that 1: he and Taemin were distant from them and 2: they could only see his back by that angle. So okay, they were good. “I was just taking a thing out of his eyes.”

“Yeah, sure.” Taehyung mocks. “I’ll ask you to take a thing out of my eye later night.” That meant when they got home he’d pester Jungkook until he told him everything.

Jungkook notices Jimin’s eyes widening a bit, but the boy soon finds his composure, fixing his hair and focusing his attention on something else.

“Didn’t know you guys had this close of a friendship.” Taemin joins Taehyung’s play and looks all but too pleased, if the glow in his eyes is to say anything.

Jungkook watches Jimin’s reaction closely, but the boy is still avoiding eye contact, expression unreadable.

“He’s my best company on lonely nights.” Taehyung adds in a dreamy tone, so Jungkook kicks him.

“Aish, enough already.”

Ever so maturely, Taehyung sticks out his tongue, a smirk hidden in the corner of his lips he makes sure his best friend sees. Jungkook rolls his eyes at that.

“Okay, enough, but, if you two aren’t on a date…” he regains Jimin’s attention with these words, “and apparently haven’t found a date for Jiminie yet…” Oh no – Jungkook knows what’s to come. He shoots bullets with his eyes at the stupid dumbass, but it’s useless. “Why don’t he go out with Taemin-hyung? It’s a double-kill – hyung gets to meet the city and go out with Jiminie and Jimin gets to go on a date! Perfect!”

Yeah, except that no.

Taehyung gets so much on Jungkook’s nerves sometimes, because he’s got this silly personality, so it makes everyone think he’s as thick as walls, but he’s actually so observant it’d shock them all to the core. It is why Jungkook is getting so pissed. Taehyung knows pretty damn well his intentions and yet, he’s still in front of him trying to set a date between Taemin and Jimin as if it’s fucking nothing. Jungkook decides to not talk with him for the rest of the day. And he means it.

He remains quiet overall. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s in too deep just to scare Jimin away. So against all the cells in his body in alert mode, begging for him to step in – even if it’s just to crack a joke and make it all seem funny –, he doesn’t. Perhaps he’s also curious about Jimin’s reaction, so there’s that. He searches for the older’s eyes and is caught by surprise at the realization that the boy is watching him.

Jungkook wonders if he’s also waiting for a reaction. He wants to express one. He wants so bad. He’s about to, when Taemin smiles the brightest smile and lights up the entire place.

“Oh! That sounds like a plan. I like it! What about you, Jimin? Would you like to go on a date with me?” from the moment the first word slips out of Taemin’s mouth Jungkook already knows it’s a lost case. It just needs a quick glance to his sparkly expression to understand a “no” isn’t in the list of options for Jimin’s answers. Jungkook lowers his gaze and tries to block the sound of Jimin’s voice when he accepts it. It kinda hurts his chest. He ignores the entire conversation from that point forward. He doesn’t want to listen any of it.

The four of them walk home together – Jungkook drowning in silence while he texts Namjoon all the way back and pretends it’s the most interesting thing he’s done all day. He doesn’t look up to see Jimin’s face when they say goodbye.

[poetic-and-psychotic-blog]

We live in a world infested with disease. Ruled by a government, who take what they please, do you think Theresa May would fund a homeless mans meal? Would she consider him a man or is his existence surreal. Hard working people, some who have worked all their lives. Sweat and blood I assure, they work to stay alive. Do you give a second thought about families less fortunate? Of course not, it's not you or your family, It used to shock me seeing starving children on the tv, can't everyone see the reality we live in. If you donate that £2 a month, you're a fool to think you've saved someone life. When did money become worth more than another humans life? When will we start to fight for human rights. It's crazy how a colour can impact your future. If you're white and male, you've got yourself a career. I guarantee that if your skin is a shade that's not pale, you'll get shot in the back for shouting out for help. How twisted, just selfish can you be, another persons life shouldn't be taken away that easy. Fear is a massive factor that runs this world, we fear things we have no knowledge about. Instead of learning and accepting what can't be changed, fear is exchanged for anger, that allows people to excuse when they're wrong, an emotion so strong, people would rather use violence than admit to being scared. Too many times has anger been linked to tragic deaths. Stop teaching children, different types of triangles, do you think they'll pay bills quoting different right angles? Think about the children being born into a generation, where it's cooler to smoke dope rather than have an education. Weed's only illegal for one reason I'm sure, who's going to want to pay for chemo, when they know there's a cure? How can money be made if cancer is no more, they need weak people to be close to deaths door. In the final weeks of a patients life, doctors confirm they're too sick to survive. No money or treatment can bring back life. Natural is good, skunk is ideal if you smoke it for long enough you'll forget what is and isn't real everyone's first thoughts are why is this illegal? After a while, it'll become a habit, I guess it's Still not a big deal . Smoke for too long you'll start to hear voices, the first couple of times you'll just laugh it off. It's just the dope playing tricks in your head, you'll smoke even more. believing they'll go away, but after a year maybe 2 they're still there, they often whisper things you'd dare to never share . Do you understand now why pot is illegal? you wish you listened to your mum she foresaw this whole ordeal she wasn't joking when she used to say "Smoke kill's brain cells, you'll regret it one day" Overwhelmed by voices you start getting scared, you reassure yourself "It's all in my head". You're now labelled schizophrenic, the only thing that is said, the voices often tell you, sacrifice yourself or them everyone should be dead. Your mind now a weapon, a nuclear bomb, all it takes is one voice to unlock your subconscious, serial killers are known to also hear voices, you can't blame murder on something no one can see, Who do you think will believe you? The judge or the jury, they'll have no sympathy for you, you smoked the devils lettuce. The first thing they'll do is declare you to be insane. But hey why is weed still illegal? kids continue to question. Now deemed a danger to society, they have a straight jacket in your size exactly. Do you regret that first toke? Do you wish you said no? You wish you passed it on, in fact you wish you didn't go. I made the green sound bad, maybe I was a little extreme, but if it wasn't for weed, I'm pretty sure my head would be 80% more sane. It started with weed, now i take speed everyday. If you believe weed is not a gateway drug, then I really don't think that you've smoked it enough, I remember the first day I was offered a chemical, I was hesitant, but I didn't decline. It was the best god darn feeling I had ever felt in the whole time I'd been alive but the day after trying it I was sure I discovered Hell. The high was unreal, but that only means one thing sadly the comedown was all just too real for me, but as time went on I didn't , I couldn't, I wouldn't stop, being sober just wasn't enough and if I had to improvise which I'd say I had to 11 times, I'd pick the wine without giving myself time to think about talking myself out - every time. I saw no real issue I just wanted more, people always say do what helps you smile, it just so happens what made me happy was not accepted, I probably earned the title as being demented. Even so I still didn't stop. 7 months down the line, my parents found out, I thought they'd help me but they didn't know how. I guess it all went down hill after that. I tried to be honest, but all that was said "She's making excuses, how dare she claim she's depressed" I guess at that point all that I wanted was to stop being sober and to leave this reality. There were many times, I could tell you putting a pill on my tongue, was the answer to my problems. But what if all this time it's been the source to all my problems? It made me happy I'm not taking that back, but now I see things that not even I understand, Just like anyone else I too fear the unknown, I question the figures I see in the dark. I hope when I close my eyes they'll go back to where they came from, but if they've been there all along. I fear the dark, that's how these things in my head get power, they feed off my fears, I can't block them out. How can I control what I can not see, how do I explain I have no power over such things that aren't meant to be. As for hearing things, Its never been that bad. My uncle can hear things that he claims not able to see, maybe it all runs through me, after all we do share the same Dna. What if the moment you accept what you see and hear that's when it all starts to become all too real - that is the moment you've found the key. In that very moment you've just unlocked the door that is your sanity, once you open it there's no going back. I assure your reality will never be the same. The difference between fantasy and reality will have no boarder, think it sounds cool? Well you're dead wrong. It's not all cotton candy clouds, it's nothing like a dream. Your deepest fears are now in fact your very real reality. No one can keep them away. You picked up the key you can never close the door. Knowingly or not you're now completely stuck. You go to the doctors to explain what's wrong, you try to express that you're the definition of fucked up. The only solution is the same one to why you're now so far gone. prescribed more pills but not for fun. Not the pills that give you a buzz and not the ones that make you drowsy but pills designed to stop you feeling. Now that's what I call wired. Somewhat hypocritical don't you think I can't feel good and I can't feel sad, why's it best to feel nothing? It doesn't take long for word to fly, soon the whole town knows the secret to your wide eyes. Other parents start to talk "Keep your daughter away from that 17 year old". I understand I'm easy to blame, 17 almost 18, I don't care if your child is doing lines of cocaine, i'm not the one who's pays for the blow, I don't hold the straw to their nose. Each and every time they choose the buzz. They want to feel good, they believe that they live for this rush. why can't parents see, I know drugs are bad believe me, I've explained. Look deeper past the drugs, maybe once in a while ask what's up? If I'm taking it all to this extent, there's not a weekend where I haven't spent whatever I have on some happiness, from pills to sniff what does it matter? Maybe if I don't stop, you won't ask why, you'll only question my choices if I die. How ironic is this thought, I risk my life every time for night of high. There's never I second thought running through my mind, I live for the highest feeling of highs. I never thought about if I were to die, would it be nice? Would I be happy to die doing something that truly made me happy? Or would it be a polar opposite, when it'd be too late, would I regret, would I wish I stayed at home that first I was offered a buzz Somethings I'll never know. So many questions that'll never be answered. Maybe it's best to never ask.

Me

[nohandshakesblog-blog]

Spread Love Not Germs

The headline article in Arizona Woman, October 2006--"The Fight Against Prostate Cancer Expands," prompted me to compose this article.

Regardless of all the research, chemotherapy, etc. cancer is on the increase.

Many books have been written on the important fact that our thoughts and feelings create our reality. I am sharing these insights with you since I want you to know you have better control of your health than you know. I understand from my own experience and by the experience of my customers whom I help cure from dire dis-eases--diabetes, cancer, lupus, Hepatitis C, Fibromyalgia, MS, higher blood pressure, mitral valve prolapse and the list goes on. I hope I can explain the origin of dis-ease that will motivate you to transcend victim consciousness and live the life you're born to live--wholesome, joyful and with reassurance.

Nothing can be healed through a practice of 'fighting against it' First we need to look at how simple is created. Thoughts are created from the mind and feelings followalong with Thoughts and feelings are impulses of energy. The human body is made up of trillions of cells. Cells of the nervous system, known as nerve cells or neurons, are specialized to carry "messages" through an electrochemical process. The human mind has approximately 100 billion neurons.

Neurons have specialized projections called dendrites and axons. Dendrites bring information to the cell body and axons take data away from the cell body. Information from 1 neuron flows to another neuron across a synapse. The synapse is a little gap separating neurons. The synapse includes:

1. A presynaptic ending that includes polyphenols, mitochondria and other cell organelles,

2. A postsynaptic finish that contains receptor sites for hormones and,

3. A synaptic cleft or space between the presynaptic and postsynaptic endings.

Thoughts and feelings are impulses of energy and information. They ship out vibrational images, patterns, and colors (not words or language). This energy affects the atmosphere (energy area) around the person believing the idea or feeling the atmosphere. As soon as they go out they can never be retracted. What we see in the outside world is a reflection of collective humanity's ideas and feelings.

Radio, TV programming and popular publications produce our future. It's easy to understand how reality is created when you understand the Science of Consciousness. However, what is understanding and how do you influence it? Collective consciousness is that the sum total of humanity's beliefs, thoughts, feelings and activities. Media, public relations firms, and advertisements constantly send out thought-forms that program us for sickness, drugs, violence, anxiety, and materiality. These thoughts enter collective consciousness and create a huge cesspool of dysfunctional beliefs where we draw our personal thoughts. Perception is carefully and precisely controlled by pharmaceutical and medical practices.

Most conventional wisdom is implanted into the public consciousness with a million social media clips per day. Whose Thoughts Are You Thinking? Where attention goesreality is created. Have you wondered why most people in America generally think the exact same thing about most issues? Have you thought about why a entire community has a high incidence of a particular disease? These perceptions are perpetrated and always reinforced by spin-doctors. The idea is created first-then it manifests in everyday life. For instance, constant awareness to medical issues creates more drug customers. Continuous awareness to being a sufferer creates more people feeling victimized.

Cancer was uncommon until someone told us and programmed fear ideas into consciousness. People didn't consider flu shots before the media encouraged them. Maybe you have wondered about the integrity of TV Allergy Reports being sponsored by a drug company? Do you believe allergy medication will cure allergies or are pharmaceuticals a profit making industry? What's true is that consciousness to allergies . Eliminate those ideas from the own energy field and your allergies will probably be eliminated. In spite of all the study, chemotherapy, etc. cancer is on the rise. Thoughts and feelings create disorder!

Let's explore traditional thought streams encouraged in today's society which are generating public consciousness:

1) An instruction guarantees monetary success,

2) war will create peace,

3) fluoride protects your teeth,

4) take out your gall bladder, tonsils, spleen, appendices and after a certain age, eliminate breasts, uterus, ovaries, testicles, etc., as they aren't really needed or that is the way to create health. Think about it--if those body parts were not necessary why did the human body evolve with them in tact?

5) HIV causes AIDS,

6) without pathogens contagious diseases will return,

7) that the FDA thoroughly tests all drugs Before marketing them,

8) if it is written in the newspaper, on TV or professional journal, it is true,

9) flu shots stop flu,

10) menopause complications really are something every girl can expect,

11) pharmaceutical medications restore health. Consider it--if medication restored health why are tens of thousands of people taking numerous drugs?

12) pets need drugs, shots and operation,

13) scientists and physicians are god-like,

14) be afraid of sunlight Fight Against Infectious Diseases causing cancer,

15) "own a piece of the rock," makes you wiser, wealthier

16) that the purpose of life is shopping--store 'till you fall.

Do yourself a favor, 'Dare To Believe For Your Self' even though you may be thought of as a weirdo. Being a weirdo is healthier, than allowing yourself to be programmed to have all the diseases the pharmaceutical companies would like you to have so they can sell drugs. Most individuals are ignorant-not bad. However, as the expression goes ignorance of the law is no excuse. The consequence of ignorance however, is why I rely on Universal Laws. These laws transcend man-made laws, and maintain true without fail. If you jump out of a window onto the 10th floor you will return--Newton's Law of Gravity ... and if you plant potato seeds you will receive potatoes-- corn. Thoughts are planting seeds. Feelings follow ideas. Thoughts and feelings create disorder!

"We cannot create solutions to issues with the exact same consciousness that created them" --Einstein. "Doing the exact same thing repeatedly and expecting different results is the definition of insanity" --Anonymous.

When you fully grasp the facts about how reality is created, you may think beyond residing in just a "physical universe" and think in terms of an "energy world". To break free from collective programming you will have to shift your thought programming and then vigilantly pick each feeling and thought. Shifting your idea programming is similar to installing an updated computer application onto your PC. "Fighting Against" Energy Creates More Of Everything You Do Not Want and Collapses Your Energy Field.

As an example, if you're in a relationship with a person and they are stuck in their doldrums, what you have to do is detect what causes you to feel good, or that which brings you joy-and do it. Do not waste your energy fighting against what you don't want. This just creates more of everything you don't want. Another example: Many people are dissatisfied with management or the business they work for. Most of their energy is wasted ruminating about the boss and co-workers. It is more productive to determine what exactly makes you fulfilled and create it. Simply put money into positive ideas.

Make the necessary modifications to your favorite state of working. Your energy, time and money increases as you're not "fighting against something" or even "ruminating about getting rid of something." It is not possible to have "far enough away" from anything or anyone, because separation is simply an illusion. People or encounters are not more than a thought away.

The Internet is helping people understand about being linked. Just because you're able to send e-mail via the Internet, we constantly send people "energy email" messages. It doesn't matter whether the man or woman is in precisely the exact same area or across the globe. They instantly, consciously or unconsciously, get your "energy e-mail" To make the reality you prefer - you want to be very discerning with each idea you allow to enter your mind, and carefully track the ideas and feelings that you send to other people. "Hedging Against" and "Ruminating." To Protect Yourself Many people are programmed to hedge against inflation, to purchase insurance to protect against handicap, fire, death, and sickness, etc..

The "save for a rainy day" mindset can be "hedging against" This attracts to you what you do not want in your life. The hidden motive to save for retirement is usually driven by a desire to protect against old age. "Has the campaign, "Say NO to drugs" worked, or even, why not? It can't work since, the mind just records the final word ... drugs ... drugs ... drugs. The saying, needed to be, "Say, "NO" to drugs...and Say, "YES into Life."

The head set of AGAINST vs. FOR ... profits enormous businesses. Folks buy vitamins, beauty and hair aids, their kids ' schooling, and get regular medical evaluations and evaluations for the negative motives of protecting themselves. All the above scenarios are fear-based motives that dis-empower you, collapse your energy field and create the reverse of your aims.

PR Firms Raise Lots Of Cash For Organizations "Hedging Against" something. I know several Men and Women who had a health emergency, following coaching for today's popular fund raising events. Well-intended participants are jogging, walking or biking, with the goal to prevent cancer or honor someone they knew who underwent cancer. What they haven't known is that by putting these thoughts into their heads--the disease becomes created. Imagine if people knew they get what they are thinking and feeling--perhaps not exactly what they believe they are thinking and believing ... AND that whatever they concentrate on will expand. Would they take part? Words and feelings are strong creators of fact. Avoid putting cancer thoughts on your consciousness (consciously or unconsciously)--you will not create cancer on your life. A magnet does not stick to timber--just to metal. Eliminate the thoughts from countless people's comprehension (and even from your family genetic consciousness)-and the disease or ailments vanish.

Your brain can't hold two thoughts simultaneously. You can not concurrently hold a happy and sad idea, or healthy and ill notion. It is impossible to consider "Fighting Breast Cancer" and concurrently hold the thought of total wellbeing and vibrant aliveness. What exactly are you doing when you are fighting something? The solution is, the more focus you put about the disorder--the more people encounter it.

Health is our natural state. Disease is abnormal and can't exist in a healthy body. Remove the ideas of sufferer, fear, stress, war, disorder, etc., and the ideas are deleted out of the collective idea cesspool. Your "search engine" will come up with nothing. Spell check makes certain words are spelled right. Empower yourself by using a "thought-check" method for another 30 days and see how your life changes. Allow only thoughts of health, joy, peace, ethics, and harmony. Watch how all changes. We must maintain the medical and pharmaceutical profession liable for the outcomes of their actions.

Think about it, grocery shops are now "Food & Drug Stores." Where are we headed? If you don't have stocks in pharmaceutical companies and don't care about the upcoming world or yourself, your own children and grandchildren will live in ... please take heed. Now that you are more educated and aware about how thoughts/feelings produce reality, how would you like to work for your Orange County Financial Abuse Specialist Team? They specialize in training financial abuse experts in organizations and agencies that serve the older. Or are you willing to support the National Drug and Alcohol Awareness Week, where a PTA company puts a "death toll poster automobile" on display in the high school campus constituting people murdered last year by drunk drivers in Orange County. Their stated goal "We aspire to grow a greater awareness of substance abuse through this project." How awful that our kids have to suffer because of ill informed, dysfunctional believing adults; Or the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.

Fighting Blood-Related Cancers; Or TV evangelists, who perform on people's emotions using starving children's pictures or images of the hopeless and helpless; Or a concert to "STOP THE ABUSE of Afghanistan women or kids;" Or "Help Stamp Out Hunger." Or, America's Walk For Diabetes; Or, run or walk the marathon in Honolulu for the Arthritis Foundation? Joints In Motion using a motto, "Take it " Or, Race for the Cure-112 events nationwide and this business is the major catalyst in the FIGHT AGAINST this catastrophic disease...every woman reaches risk-great perks, extra monograms, T-shirts, and complementary refreshments; or you could create more consciousness to gout by becoming a member of the Arthritis Foundation's Joints in Motion Training Team, have a holiday, and run the "I Love Paris In The Springtime Marathon." What about, "Avoid CHILD ABUSE?

Again, the brain documents child abuse; Or Alzheimer's Memory Walk-a fun way to join the FIGHT AGAINST Alzheimer's Disease, where participants have been instructed to bring images of the loved ones to remind them of why they are walking. The brochure shows four generations with only two generations with Alzheimer's disease; Or Project Sister ...sexual assault emergency services educating the communities we serve on the nature and causes of sexual abuse; Or these Internet sites: The Hunger site, The Kids AIDS site, The Landmine website, The Rainforest website, or The Child Survival site. What solutions do one or more of these examples provide? Can it be any wonder why physicians, hospitals, doctors and drug companies have so many patients? Along with all the previous information in this guide, many magazines use full front page headlines like, "The Diabetes Epidemic...a killer disease. This creates aware awareness to diabetes and creates patients to the health care profession.

[aidinha]

Make a wish

Soooo I didn’t get the EEG like I said I would. Instead, I got a cold. Then I did the math: cold plus uncomfortable headgear, plus oncoming menstruation, plus healing new tattoo (because it was my birthday!), equals hell no. It’s simply too much. There’s also the reality that even if I didn’t give a fuck about my own comfort having a cold would ruin the whole EEG monitoring anyway. I don’t know if you know this, but you can’t make any loud noises with your mouth while wired to a EEG recorder. For example chewing gum or hard candy or chips is prohibited. Two of those are my favorite food category, by the way. If you do happen to eat, well anything, you have to note that stuff in a lame photocopied lined sheet. Likewise if you sneeze you have to make note of that because it’s going to disrupt the skin your scalp and that’s going to shoot off some information that the electrodes glued to your head are going to pick up. Doctors need to distinguish what’s what or else those carrots in my salad might read a false positive. Oh, and did I mention it was going to cost me 500 dollars out of pocket? Yeah, thank you insurance deductible. So I skipped it.

Now that I’m better though, I haven’t reschedule it. And you know what? I’m not going to reschedule it. Not for a while at least. Not unless something new and dramatic happens with my epilepsy. Again, the math. I just moved to LA, which means I have to start all over with my search for a neurologist who gets me, i.e. won’t infringe on my free will when it comes to meds and lifestyle. I’ll definitely have to get another EEG with their equipment and take in their opinions. It’s another relationship I’ll have to build out here while simultaneously trying to build a new life. Which at the moment also feels like too much. So I’m thinking about going to go solo for a while. I’ve lived with this version of my illness for the past five years and I’ve gotten to know it in a weird and fascinating way. I’m not saying that I love it or that we’re even friends. It’s more like we’re co-workers. Sometimes coworkers can be a gift, not one that we wanted but one that is needed. Not that I think I or anyone else needs epilepsy, but meeting it everyday has taught me a lot about who I am. For example, I never knew how much hate I was capable of, and that when I let go of hate new paths are forged.

This new path doesn’t exactly include a neurologist. At least not as a source of hope. At least not his brand of hope. See, I keep wanting my neurologist to give me some remarkable insight as to why certain seizures feel a certain way, and then let me decide if that’s good or bad, and then, most importantly, cheer me on as I go back into the world. Instead my doctor tells me how bad my symptoms are, the likelihood of dying, and implores me to try a new pill or surgery. The end result is that I burst into tears exactly one block away from the neuro center every time because I am devastated by the inner conflict. I hated these visits with my entire being. Although, objectively speaking, my doctor was only doing his job. I, on the other hand, had been giving my power away to the medical system, i.e. my doctor. That is, I was expecting to get all the hope and encouragement I needed to get through the entirety of my illness from one person with a PH.D and training to read brain waves captured on an EEG. Yeah, it’s just not realistic.      

Where do I look for power now that I’m not seeing anyone for my epilepsy? The beach! Jogging barefoot on the beach has done wonders for my brain, body and self esteem. A local dispensary! An abundance to CBD oil also helps me sleep better and keeps anxiety (a common aura that can lead to bigger seizures) away. In making my dreams come true! I recently read an article about how wish granting, as in Make-A-Wish Foundation, has had statistically positive effects on healing chronic and terminal illness. I might not qualify for the foundation, but I am having a hard time imagining a better use of my time than striving to make my wishes come true in midst of chronic illness. There’s nothing like looking forward to tomorrow to make the pain of today ease up. Dr. Anup Patel, lead author of the study puts it this way, "I recognize on a daily basis that I'm not going to help get seizures gone in a majority of cases with traditional interventions, so I'm always looking for ways to help… Even if it's just making a kid happy for a couple of weeks, that's sometimes better than any medicine I can give them."  You know, I bet we’d all feel a little better if we tried to live our best lives on the regular. Bonus if it cures your illness! The article also suggested that patients were more (er, ah-hem) compliant with difficult medical treatments because they felt more hopeful. So maybe I don’t have to do this on my own forever, the doctors and pills and surgery might make sense one day. It’s impossible to know what will happen down the and road. For now, my epilepsy and me have some dreams to catch up with.  

https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2018/11/20/669366371/how-do-wishes-granted-to-very-sick-kids-affect-their-health