#I’ll just keep stringing together Stuff and hopefully something is interesting enough to keep doing

[blessphemy]

get called into bossmans office (x2 bosses)

- you’ve been great and professional

- responsive and easy to work with

- take feedback well, good follow up

- done a great job, great work ethic

- hope we cross paths professionally again

- anyway bye!

[lokislastlove]

Best Laid Plans (Fluffy Bucky x Reader) p3

Summary: Bucky is determined to woo you properly, no matter how rusty he is at dating these days.

Warnings: Some smut at the end, oral (fr), Bucky has bad luck, but we love him anyway. 18+ only please.

This is my first attempt at Fluff, it is not my strength, to say the least, so by all means ignore this. @saiyanprincessswanie I wrote this for you, I hope you like it and with any luck maybe it brings a tiny smile to your face when you need it. 💕 Also remember this is fiction, I know Bucky’s arm is fancy as hell and has no flaws.

Chapter 3 -

🌹 The Third Date 🌹

The office is abuzz with rumors of your new romance. For obvious reasons Pepper never shuns coworkers dating, but does caution that she expects everyone to remain professional regardless of the outcome. Bucky is one of the most sought after bachelors in the building so naturally people notice when he fixes his attention on you. For the two days following your fruit-filled frolic in the hills Bucky is constantly around. He brings you coffee, flowers by the dozen every day, saves you a seat during the meetings, cooks you lunch and even brings Kal in to see you.

“Okay, I can’t wait any longer. You willing to give me that second chance, tomorrow?” Bucky bursts into your office an hour before you leave Friday evening.

You gasp as the door slams against the wall and he cringes, “uh, sure. I’m free tomorrow. Should I just go ahead and wear my yoga pants?”

“Ha ha. Very funny. And no. I let Steve pick the date idea this time. Just don’t wear anything that you don’t want getting a little dirty,” he winks.

You let out a sigh, “wouldn’t it be easier to just tell me what we’re doing?”

“That’s no fun, Angel.”

——

The next morning you wake up to a text from Bucky, just like you have every morning since your first date.

Good Morning, Beautiful! Can’t wait to see you today. I’ll pick you up at 11am. 😀

Bucky has managed to make waking up a highlight of your day, something you never thought possible. Plus you got him to start using emojis, which Steve claims he will never forgive you for.

You choose some dark wash jeans and a V-neck t-shirt with a jacket and boots. Stylish but casual, you feel good, excited to find out what adventure Bucky will be dragging you into this time.

Your phone dings as you race out the front door and gulp when you see the bike again. God he looks good with it though, his light brown leather jacket highlights his olive skin and his dimpled smile has you swooning as you reach him. Determined to get a hang of this motorcycle thing you jump on back and cling to Bucky with a bit more confidence today.

Bucky reigns in his speed this time, and you find yourself enjoying the rush of the wind on your face and the warmth of him in your arms. To your shock Bucky leads you to a ceramic shop not far from Avengers tower, specifically for couples pottery class.

“Steve assures me that this is supposed to be fun and romantic,” Bucky says as you find yourself sitting next to him on a dirty stool with a spinning round table in front of you.

“Steve hasn’t been watching old romance movies again, has he?”

Bucky squints at you, “Actually, yeah but he said it had ghosts in it, and I got enough of those.”

You grab his hand and give it a squeeze before taking a deep breath, “Ok, let’s do this!”

It takes about a minute to realize what a terrible idea this is as Bucky curses under his breath and his arm starts making strange whirling noises.

“Oh shit, uh is clay good for your arm?” You ask, nodding at the way the plates of his metal arm seems to twitch and groan as the wet clay slide and congeal between them as they shift.

“Fuck,” Bucky curses as he shakes out his metal arm and you grimace at the worrisome noise it makes before it stops moving all together.

“Do you want to take it off?” you offer.

Bucky looks frustrated with a hint of panic as he sits there contemplating the best move. He still isn’t very comfortable going without his arm in public.

“Or we could just decide not to take Steve’s dating advice anymore and go back to the tower and get cleaned up?” You laugh and bump him with your elbow.

He scoffs out a laugh, “yeah. You know I used to be the one that was good at this stuff, I was the charming one who helped get Steve a date.”

“Oh is that so? Well I think you’re doing better than you think you are,” you smirk.

“Yeah?” He asks hopefully.

“Yeah, now come on Casanova,” you stand and wipe your hands on the towel nearby.

You can’t help but laugh as you follow him out the door, looking at the light gleam off the metal that isn’t covered in clay.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just… gonna be hard to convince me you’re not a complete mess after this one.”

——

You could tell Bucky’s confidence had taken a major hit, well three major hits to be honest. And while he constantly berated himself for everything that went wrong, you couldn’t help but love him even more with each blunder. And when he doesn’t insist you give him another shot after that disastrous pottery date, you seek out Steve’s advice.

“Do you think I should try to make a move? Ask him on a date maybe? Or is that insulting to … men from your era,” you finish awkwardly.

Steve laughs softly, “I think Bucky could use a sign that you aren’t willing to give up yet. You should give it a shot, as long as it’s what you want and not just out of pity.”

“Of course it’s not out of pity, you really think I’d do that?” you ask, trying not to get too offended.

“No, doll, of course I don’t. But that’s likely what he’s going to think.” He placates and gives you a knowing look before walking out of your office.

You push back your shoulders and pull out your phone to text Bucky.

Hey if you’re free tonight you should come over to my place. Maybe around 8pm? No dress code. 😘

🌹 The Fourth Date 🌹

Bucky arrives at 7:50pm that evening and you push the buzzer to let him in. You leave the door cracked for him and finish the final touches.

“Angel?” He calls as he knocks and you hear the door creak open. “Uh, hello?” His voice falters as he closes the door behind him and takes in the candles neatly arranged along a path of rose petals.

You hear him remove his heavy boots and call your name as he follows the path further into your apartment and closer to where you’re waiting for him. You shift nervously on your feet as you wait with baited breath for him to appear around the corner.

“Angel, what’s going..” His voice gets caught in his throat as he stands in your doorway and sees you waiting for him.

You’re wearing a simple nightgown, a silky robe and stockings. The thin straps and sleek material drape softly over your curves, enticing enough to make him pause but not overly revealing to be considered scandalous. You didn’t want to be too bold and scare him off too fast, or make yourself appear too desperate.

“Hi, Bucky,” you smile as you watch his pupils dilate and his chest strain against his shirt as his breathing gets heavier.

He clears his throat and his cheeks glow pink as his eyes flick up to meet yours, “uh hey, Angel. Am I dreaming?”

You laugh as you take a few steps toward him and he mirrors you, “I just thought that maybe I’d surprise you with a date, this time. If you’re up for it.”

“Well, I will admit that my interest is quite peaked already.” He jokes, his eyes roving down your body once more as he gently takes your hands and holds them out to get a better look at you.

You giggle and rolls your eyes, “Nothing crazy, just a simple movie date, and I have the perfect set up. Follow me.”

You pull him over to your bedroom window and climb out onto the fire escape, he follows closely, his curiosity climbing with each creaky step.

“You sure this is safe?” He asks as the stairs rattle under his weight.

“No,” you say simply as you reach the top, “but it’s worth it.”

Bucky’s eyes widen as he takes in the rooftop space that you’ve meticulously decorated for him. Strings of lights hang on the low rooftop walls. A large air mattress is tucked between the pipes and vents, facing a large projector screen. You made sure to add mountains of fluffy pillows and soft blankets to keep you cozy under the stars.

“This is amazing,” he mutters as he eyes the plate of snacks and bottle of wine waiting on the bed.

“I know, isn’t the view amazing? I’ve always loved it up here, but I didn’t know it had this much potential until now,” you remark as you look out onto the glimmering view of the city skyline.

Bucky’s fingers slip between yours and curl sweetly as he guides you over to the soft bed. He flops down and settles in before opening his arm for you to join him. You grab the remote and the wine and curl up next to him. Drawing up your legs and letting them rest against his muscular thigh.

“I don’t deserve all this,” he utters sadly as he watches you pour the wine.

“Steve said you’d say something stupid like that,” you laugh as he looks stunned for a moment. “So let me just settle this right now.” You take deep breath and let it out with a quiet huff.

“I have been the happiest I’ve ever been since you asked me out on that first date. I look forward to waking up every morning knowing I’ll get to see you and possibly, maybe, do more than just ogle you from afar. Oh don’t look at me like that!” You laugh and smack Bucky’s shoulder when he smirks at you and wiggles his brow.

“I know you think you blew it after our first three dates but all I remember is seeing a passionate man willing to chase down a dog through the mud, even if it meant embarrassing himself. I remember you saving me from a potentially fatal injury, and I remember a man so desperate to impress me that he took advice from Steve Rogers,” you bite your lip as you watch Bucky choke out a laugh at your jab at his best friend.

“You may think all of these moments are flaws, but honestly I wouldn’t want to change a single thing. So let’s just –” Your speech is cut off when Bucky’s hands are suddenly on the side of your face and pull you in for a blazing kiss.

It’s as though you’ve unlocked something in him as he devours you, his tongue trailing across your lip and delving into your mouth when you open for him. You moan as his hands slip down to your neck, his thumbs pressing ever so slightly on your pressure points before he pulls away just enough to kiss and nibble along your jaw. The pleasure and passion is dizzying and you feel your body bend to his will. Your hands grasp at his shirt as he nuzzles and sucks along your neck now, making his way to your clavicle.

The feather pillow braces your head as Bucky lays you down and hovers above you, his body heat warming you as the cool night breeze tickles over each spot he kisses.

“God, Angel, you have no idea how badly I want you right now. How badly I’ve wanted you for so long.” He groans against your chest, dragging his nose over the thin material between your breasts.

“Me too,” you breathe.

You push at the lapel of his jacket, trying to urge him to take it off. He sits up, fixing his eyes on you as he slowly strips off his coat and tosses it away, followed by his shirt immediately after. Your breath hitches as you let your fingers lightly glide down his stomach, feeling every ripple of firm muscle under his heated skin.

“Wow, the girls at work would be so jealous right now,” you kid.

“I’m almost offended that you think this is my best feature,” he scoffs gesturing to his stomach, his eyes glinting mischievously.

“By all means, show me more. I did come up here for a show after all,” you tease, tilting your head and biting your lip as you eye the growing bulge in his pants.

“Oh, I think I know how to keep you entertained,” he smirks and lowers himself over you, his hot breath leaving goosebumps on your skin as he dips lower down your body.

You look down as he pauses over your quivering center and lifts the hem of your dress up to reveal your lace panties. He growls lowly and hooks his finger under them, pulling them quickly to the side. You twitch as he blows lightly over your lips, the cool air hitting the slick arousal already pooling between your thighs. He chuckles as you grip the blankets tightly and he pushes his long thick tongue between your folds, circling your bud at the top. You let out a long moan as his fervor increases, the feeling of his rough tongue dipping into your dripping hole and then back up to flick over your clit is driving you closer and closer to the edge.

After the past two weeks of the most intense sexual tension you’ve ever experienced it doesn’t take much for him to have you squirming under his touch. Your toes curl and a broken scream echoes over the rooftops as you come on his hungry lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he coos as your eyes flutter open and see him hovering over your face once more.

Your jaw slackens, pupils blown as you take in his debauched state, his tousled hair, lips and beard glistening with your come. You reach up and pull him down to you, tasting yourself on his tongue. You feel his metal arm fumble with his jeans between you as he pulls out his aching cock. Your eyes flick down in curiosity and you can’t help but gasp as you gaze at his veiny, thick length.

“You see how hard you make me?” He moans, fisting the base of his leaking cock.

You bite your lip, feeling an overwhelming desire to let him use you in any way he wants. Your body arching into him and your hips rolling desperately. Your submissive side blooming under his dominant tone.

You whimper and meet his eye, “fuck me, Bucky. Please.”

Your voice is soft and timid, nothing like the typical commanding confidence you have in your daily life, and it sends a thrill through Bucky. He latches onto your thighs and pushes them up toward your chest, exposing your cunt to him and he guides himself inside, moaning freely as your walls stretch to fit him.

“I’m never letting you go. My perfect, Angel.”

[aquariusshadow]

Live!Blogging HSMTMTS s2x8

Well, well, well, who would’ve thought my streaming site would have the episode up early. I can finally get a Live!Blog done at a decent time for once.

Rip Rini. That’s my only prediction for this ep.

Lesss goooooo

--

“napoleon over here” jfc haha

“because winners don’t freak out” good mantra miss jenn

Lets take a shot how many times Ricky says “Nini”—I’m at 2 already with one minute in

Awwwwwwww look at gina giving ej pointers for the dancing

“biggie” idk how I feel about that nickname for big red but you do you Ashlyn

Why am I surprised that this rendition is really good

Big red you’re killing it

To any of yall who remember Unus Annus (memento mori ☹ ) plz tell me you remember their “version” of the gaston song???

Cuz that’s all im thinking about

EJ your voice is so good we’ve been robbed this entire show

Beautiful, absolutely beautiful, well done well done

Awwww poor seb

Tbf I’d probably try that out too ngl haha

We’re already calling ricky ‘you-know-who’ and this show is well known for it’s harry potter references…..yikes

3

Asdlhjsdlhfasdfh

“No offense Ricky, but it’s not all about you.” Daaaaaaaaamn

Ricky

Sir

What are you doing

Why

Aldfaksjdfahsdf

Yes asking people to collab is legit

Yes this could also be some creep

But stop being clingy and obsessive ricky good lord

Oh so NOW he regrets one of his bad choices with nini

4

Hehe portwell smiling at each other all throughout the ep

HFLDKJHGJFGGH

WAIT

ARE WE ADDRESSING IT

EJ LIKES HER HOLY SHIT

AJDFALHSDJFASDLFHASDFJASDFLASDFJASDFHASKFDJASDLFS

I MEAN IT WAS OBVIOUS

BUT I DIDN’T KNOW IF/WHEN/HOW THEY WERE GONNA ADDRESS IT

I stg if my video doesn’t stop glitching imma sue something

Oooooooooo ej’s dad

Oh

Oh no

Ej never told his dad about duke

WAIT

HIS DAD PULLED STRINGS TO GET HIM IN

Sir

Mr sir

Mr fucking sir

Of course he’s one of those parents

Miss jenn does have a strong soprano range I’ll give her that

Poor seb

He just wanted some rehearsal time

5

Honestly ricky I think you can still call her nini

6

Even big red is tired of listening to the same shit with ricky

7

I do feel for the kid but man

Ooooo kourt’s mom

I like how we’re seeing more of the parents

Her mom is so supportive

That’s so nice to see

Yaaay some of their relationship was real afterall

Even tho Howie scuffed up

Yea kourt you tell him

Yea I have a feeling ricky just kinda froze while taking the career apititude test

8

“I did not come home for you” hell yea nini you tell him

Everyone in the restaraunt is just staring lmao

Rip Rini?

I will be very very very mad if they make up at the end of the ep and continue on like nothing happened

Awwwwww Ashlyn made a Big Red career collage that’s so cute

Oooooooooh I see the conflict now ok

Big red you should tell her what you really want

There you go

Look at that communication

Rini take notes

Awwwwww mazzarra made her a lil mini snack/coffee table to help her relax

That’s very sweet

And he’s the only one of her love-interests that actually knows how to HELP her

Man he’s smitten with her isn’t he

Gina’s hair is so pretty here I love it

She smiles every time she sees ej ehehe

And he’s helping her crochet <3

Look at portwell’s communication skills here

Maaaaaaaan

Even tho they are different

Both of them are listening to each other and are still helping each other

While rina had stuff like that in common

Season 2 scuffed them so bad gina was just unhappy

Aka gina’s list on why she likes ej

This is so cute

Jasljdsflhasdf

“you’d see what I-the rest of us see”

Plz don’t play with my heart yall

I wasn’t sure if Gina liked him back romantically or not

Portwell Nation rise up

Ashlyn I love you but whyyyyy did you ruin the momenttttttt

Oh my god

Why are Rini being happy and cute when they JUST blew up at each other

Im so confused

Is that normal for relationships?

To go from a major fight then being super cute and happy like nothing happened????

Ok now we’re talking about it…..

“At YAC I liked who I was there” uh…Nini weren’t you kinda miserable there?

Oooooooooo

Here’s the thing

Right now Ricky is clinging onto the safety feeling

And Nini JUST said she didn’t want to be ‘safe’

Im glad he told her about the insta comment

Are they….are they actually breaking up now?

Alright this is probably the best way they both could’ve ended things

A mutual, understanding, emotion filled break up with no hard feelings

That’s gonna help both of them in the future I think

Assuming the writers don’t throw them back together at the end of the episode

9

My heart does go out to them tho :/

Howie does have a very nice voice

LOOK AT DOMESTIC PORTWELL

GUYS LOOK AT THAT

THAT’S SO CUTE

HE PUT A BLANKET OVER HER LIKE COME ON

SHE FELT SAFE ENOUGH TO SLEEP ON THE COUCH NEXT TO HIM

rina could never at least right now

Ok we got all the ships in this song

Except for Rini

If this is foreshadowing im very content

Awwww ricky ☹

Beautiful Howie

I loved that so much

Great voice

Great ending to an episode

--

Did I actually keep track of how many times Ricky said “Nini” in this episode? Yes, yes I did. It helped me stay more focused ironically enough. Luckily half of those were in conversation with Nini so that wasn’t awful lmao.

So I was right about Rip Rini. Incredible. Hopefully they stay broken up for a while and focus on themselves. RICKERAPY CAN FINALLY SHINE!!!!!

Also, EJ likes Gina confirmed? Portwell nation, how we feelin today?

[strange-lace]

Concert State of Consciousness

IT’S FINALLY DONE! I HAVE NOW MADE A FANFIC FOR THIS ROLESWAP AU! I didn’t expect this damn thing to get this long but here I am, once again! Kind of happy with how everyone’s characterized, though Demon Kid ended up a bit more sinister than I intended. I definitely had fun writing the dynamic between Mei and Green though.

Hope y’all like it!

To say the city was abuzz with excitement would be an understatement.

For the past couple of months, the name DJ Horns has been spoken with increasing interest as his music suddenly began to be played on the radio constantly. And most people wouldn’t deny that it was good, electronic yet incredibly varied depending on the song. But what interested people the most about the musician was how mysterious he was, active on social media and yet nobody knew his face and only the barest of personal details. Even his voice was a matter of debate with him using a voice synthesizer even when talking normally on his social media.

It was the perfect storm to allow DJ Horns fanbase to start from nothing to practically explode over time.

And the same musician had just announced that he would be doing a live concert right at the heart of the city, even playing “secret tracks” that he had yet to let anyone hear until now.

People were practically fighting to get themselves tickets, Mei herself included that chaos. She had been swept up in the excitement of DJ horns since the very beginning and was willing to do whatever she had to get tickets for her and Green to that concert.

Leading her to the unfortunate situation she was in now. Kicked out of the ticket venue and by the time the ban would be lifted, she knew all the concert tickets would be sold out. Oh and Green had to bail her out from getting in trouble with the security guys.

“I don’t get what the big deal was, everyone was fighting dirty to get first pick at those tickets!” Even with his shades, she could tell that Green was rolling his eyes at her.

“Oh gee, I don’t know Mei. Maybe it’s because you nearly tore a guy’s hair out!”

“That’s what he gets for trying to say I was only a fan to get the attention of other guys! Now I’m gonna miss the concert of a lifetime,” Mei groaned, a pout on her lips. Green’s scowl of disappointment softened as they walked into Pigsy’s Noodles, starting to feel bad. It’s not like the guy wasn’t being a jerk after all.

“I suppose I could see about pulling some strings to get us some decent seats, if it means that much-” He was cut off by a crushing hug from Mei, who easily lifted Green off of his feet and began to twirl them both around in sheer jubilation.

“You’d do that for me?! Thank you so much Green, you’re the absolute best!”

“Yes, yes, your appreciation is very evident now please put me down before you crush my rib cage,” he wheezed, letting in a deep gulp of air once he was freed. Mei appeared sheepish at the unintentional show of strength. “As I was saying, there’s probably a couple scalpers I could cough two tickets out of without much trouble.”

“I still question how you have the money to just do stuff like that casually, make hundreds of gadgets, and build our secret base.”

“You have your mysterious ways and I have mine Mei.” Before Mei could question further, Pigsy voice interrupted them both, looking a fair bit of a mess.

“There you are kid, we got a mountain of orders for you to deliver! Oh, and this came for you and Green in mail while you were gone, no return address though weirdly enough,” he said, shoving a load of noodle orders in Mei’s arms alongside two unmarked envelopes: one orange and the other green. The sound of something crashing in the kitchen tore Pigsy’s attention away, causing him to let out a string of curses as he went back into what sounded like chaos.

Green took the envelopes off Mei’s hands while she struggled with balancing all the orders in her arms, studying them with interest. Upon closer inspection, each envelope simply had “To My Heroes” scrawled on the front in elegant writing and sealed with a black wax seal on the back. He found himself impressed at all the sheer amount of effort put in.

“Fancy,” he commented before gently opening the green envelope. His eyes widened at what he found inside. “Looks like I won’t need to pay any scalpers for tickets.”

“Wait what do you mean? Gimme that!” Mei said, putting the orders down on the table to snatch the orange envelope and tear into it with desperate ferocity. There were practically stars once she took in what was inside: front row tickets to the DJ Horns concert and even VIP passes.

The windows of the restaurant rattled the slightest bit as the sheer force of her screams of joy.

Green didn’t even flinch as his ears were assaulted, used to this level of volume, while unfortunate bystanders winced in pain or jumped in surprise. He found a handwritten behind the ticket in his own envelope and curiosity getting the better of him, began to read it.

“As a token of thanks for always keeping this city safe, here’s free front row tickets on me! Can’t wait to see you both tonight in front of the crowd! ♡♡♡

- DJ Horns”

“How… suspiciously generous of him,” Green drawled, an eyebrow raised at such a note.

“What’s suspicious about it? We do save the city a lot and somebody’s just showing their appreciation for it! I see no problem with it,” Mei argued, pausing in her celebrations, which involved her doing a handstand on one of the stools and didn’t even seem bothered holding the position.

“Mei, this implies that he hand delivered these here without anybody noticing. Why go through all that effort to be sneaky?” It just didn’t sit right in the pit of his stomach, something smelled rotten about this to him.

“Because he’s a mega famous celebrity, he’s probably worried that making a big deal out of us giving these could make people upset or something.” It made sense to Mei, who wouldn’t free tickets from their favorite music artist and be upset that someone else was given that opportunity? She did a small flip from the stool to land next to Green, wrapping her arm around his shoulders until they were close enough that their cheeks were squished together. Despite the closeness, Green looked more uncomfortable about being tugged down to Mei’s height than anything else. That and how blinding her smile was.

“C’mon Green, I get the skepticism but it’s just a concert. One night where we can be normal teens enjoying the fruits of our labor in protecting this place, what’s so bad about that? Plus, it’ll be fun! So how about it?” Mei said, almost sounding desperate. Green remained silent for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh, only giving her a tired smile as he returned the one armed hug.

“Oh alright, you win. I suppose a break sounds nice right about now considering how things went with Demon Kid last time. Why look a gift horse in the mouth?” He conceded, willing to let his suspicion aside for a night of just not having to worry about anything but having a good time and enjoying music. Especially after yesterday, Green was still amazed that the demon managed to make something like perfume into a weapon of mass annoyance.

“That’s the spirit! This is gonna be the night of our lives!”

At least that’s what she thought, until her trinkets were literally snatched out of her hands.

“After you finish your deliveries for the night kid,” Pigsy interrupted, looking a lot more put together now that whatever disaster that had been happening in the kitchen was under control. Excluding the number of stains on his apron that weren’t there before of course. It took Mei a moment to process that her precious tickets weren’t in her hands and she was quick to bring out the puppy dog eyes.

“But- but Pigsy-” Pigsy showed no sign of giving in, having years to build a resistance to all of Mei’s tricks.

“I’m sorry Mei, but we’re way too swamped to let you run off with no one to do all these deliveries. Once you have all the deliveries done, you can have these back. But only after, so you better get started,” he stated, leaving no room for argument. And even if Mei tried, the smell of something burning had Pigsy back in the kitchen just like that with even more fervent curses, this time with her tickets tucked into the pockets of his apron.

Mei let out a groan and smacked her forehead against the countertop in despair. Green merely patted her back in sympathy to her plight.

“There’s no way I’m gonna make all those deliveries and not miss like half of the concert! Unless…”

Oh no, he recognized that look in her eyes anywhere.

“Mei, no. I know exactly what you’re thinking and I’m telling you right now, no. No music is worth facing Pigsy’s wrath if he finds out you skipped out on work for a concert. Which is what exactly will happen, he always finds out,” Green warned her, even taking off his sunglasses to look her dead in the eyes to get his point across. Mei winced at that, remembering what had happened last time she tried to skimp on work.

The power of Pigsy’s “I’m not mad, just disappointed” is something even DBK should fear.

“Look, I’ll record whatever you miss if I don’t see you by the time it starts. Might not be the same but it’s better than nothing.” That offer seemed to perk Mei up from her bout of disappointment, hopeful eyes peeking through her thick hair bangs.

“Promise?”

“I promise. But if you don’t want to miss the whole thing, you’d better do what Pigsy says and get started on the deliveries. Especially since I think that pile has grown since we got here,” Green said, pointing to the small mountain of orders which indeed had gotten bigger since passed off to her. This time, he was more prepared for the bone crushing embrace which came his way and thankfully had his arms free enough to return it.

“Thanks Green, you’re the best! Hopefully I’ll see you there before it all starts!” And just like that, Mei was off like a whirlwind with all the noodle orders in her arms. She excitedly loaded them into the shop’s delivery cart and drove off with a strong stomp in the gas pedal, the cart’s tires squealing in distress before driving off.

With a weary sigh, Green took his leave as well though he couldn’t stop looking at the ticket and note in his hands. 

Even with Mei’s assurances, something about the situation still did not sit right with him.

“For once, please let me be wrong,” Green whispered to himself, not noticing a suspiciously familiar monkey-shaped marionette creature eagerly watching him from the rooftops above. On the other side of the puppet’s eyes, her creator couldn’t help the manic grin off of his face as the pieces started to fall into place for his plan.

Green had to admit that he was expecting this many people packed into the area when he rolled up to the concert gates on his motorcycle, Mei still nowhere in sight. Though he certainly made sure to update him on how the deliveries were going.

A familiar ding sound on his phone made him pause, giving an exasperated smile at seeing another text from Mei.

“WHY ARE SO MANY PEOPLE ORDERING NOODLES TONIGHT??? got done w 3/4 of the orders, if i hurry i should be there before opening act’s done. if anybody tries to steal my seat, i give you permission to use lethal force. don’t let me down! <3”

“Maybe if you didn’t send me so many texts, you’d be getting the deliveries done faster Mei,” Green mumbled to himself fondly as he climbed off his bike, blissfully unaware of the stares being sent his way. As usual, his hair was a mess of black and pale green spikes as he pulled off his helmet and he let out a soft huff, attempting to put order to the mane that was his hair as he made his way inside.

Green let out a low whistle, impressed as he walked further in to discover the place was decorated head to toe with fluorescent neon lights, state of the art music equipment, and a giant disco ball hanging from the ceiling which added another layer of glitz. It was almost disorientating, the onslaught of neon colors, lights, and music from all sides but in a way that was also exhilarating. The harsh glow of red, orange, and purple was a bit much for Green but at the same time it filled him with a sense of giddiness that made him begin to understand Mei’s desperation to be here.

His heart did a slight leap of excitement once he found his seat. It was one thing to read he had a front row seat and another thing entirely to see how close he was to the stage. And a completely separate thing to see a note on the seat, scrawled with a familiar extravagant writing which welcomed him and Mei with hopes that they would enjoy the show.

All too soon, all the lights went out and Green could feel his breath pause before they returned with full force alongside familiar music which seemed to make the entire room pulsate with its vibrations. Multiple spotlights shined on the stage and the crowd went wild with cheering as DJ Horns finally showed, looking just as bombastic as his set up.

He wore an ornate metallic helmet decorated with large horns that protruded from the forehead which shined a rainbow of colors under the neon lights. A dark fur lined coat was draped over his shoulders with a matching suit underneath and metal lined gloves on his hands. Overall, he looked like quite a character to Green though there was niggling in the back of his head that this should be someone that he could recognize. The grip on the arms of his seat tightened.

His eyes took in the still empty seat to his right and he began to gnaw his lip in worry.

“Where are you Mei?” Green asked himself before the synthesized voice of DJ Horns interrupted his thoughts.

“What is up everybody? You all ready for the show of a lifetime?!” A loud cacophonous roar of cheers answered him, which he soaked in without a hint of shame in his posture. “That’s what I like to hear! And we have some very special guests tonight right in the front row, the Monkie Kid herself and her partner, the Green Dragon!”

Green couldn’t help the flinch when a spotlight suddenly shined down on him, leaving him feeling exposed to hundreds upon thousands of eyes which zeroed in on him the vacant seat next to him. Yet he still forced on a smile which was more teeth than anything else, not quite appreciating being put on the spot like this. The musician’s shoulders seemed to tense in disappointment once he also noticed being down one of his special guests, yet he was quick to shake it off.

“Seems it’s more like one special guest, but no matter! We’re still going to make this a night that the city itself won’t ever forget! The first and unfortunately, only, live concert by the one and only DJ Horns!” He was met with gasps of surprise and even a couple cries of despair at this bombshell. “I know, I know! But there’s a reason for this, my dear fans. Because after tonight, you’ll all know the man behind the mask and I’m sure you’ve all been dying to know who it is. Am right?!” DJ Horns teased, hands reaching for his helmet.

The manic energy of the entire building seemed to escalate to almost out of control levels at that announcement, people scrambling for their phones to get the chance of capturing his face before anyone else. Green would have been among them if that uneasy feeling hadn’t begun to grow into full on paranoia, as if his very being could sense that the other shoe was about to drop. He was so tense that Green felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong,” he chanted to himself, his grip tightening to an unbearable degree as DJ Horns finally pulled off his helmet.

Unfortunately for him and everyone else, he wasn’t wrong.

His heart practically stopped as his eyes were welcomed by an unfortunately familiar face: spiked brown hair held up by a golden circlet styled like horns, dark eyes framed in orange and red pigment, and a fanged grin that promised nothing but trouble.

Demon Kid.

And his grin only became larger once he took in the shocked silence, particularly Green’s horror ridden face. He looked extremely pleased with himself as he took advantage of everyone struggling to process what was going on to prepare for the final phase of his plan.

And would it be a sweet victory for him.

“Oh, I’m going to treasure that look on your face for the rest of my life, Dragon Boy. It’s certainly a shame that the Noodle Girl couldn’t join in on the party but, eh, she’ll come eventually.” Green had finally overcome his horror, sword in his hands and making a mad dash towards Demon Kid on the stage. Yet the demon remained unaffected as he put on the finishing touches. “Because by the time I’m done, everyone in this whole city will be dancing for my king like my puppets. Starting with all you!” 

And with that, Demon Kid put the volume at max and blasted the entire building with his music. The sheer force of the sound sent Green flying back, crashing into now abandoned seats as people attempted to escape. However, to their horror, all the doors were locked and barricaded. Leaving them trapped and at the mercy of the music assaulting their ears from all sides and one by one, civilians fell to the floor as they tried their hardest to muffle the noise. Yet as if a sentient force, the melody managed to slither its way in and overwhelmed people’s senses like a tidal wave with one simple but overpowering command.

And that command was to obey.

Green climbed to his feet in a daze, struggling to focus with the sheer volume and the strange whispering that seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere. And already Green could feel his mental walls crumbling, he wasn’t going to last long before he succumbed to the strange power.

Mei.

He had to warn Mei.

He scrambled for his phone, barely able to take him the most recent message from Mei stating she was heading back to get her ticket back from Pigsy. Clumsy fingers fumbled to type out a warning and relief flooded his nerves once the message was sent.

And just in time as Green found himself being dogpiled by multiple people, their eyes glowing a hollow and ominous red. He struggled yet the mental strain of fighting to keep control left him weak and vulnerable, sword just out of his reach. Impish chuckling invaded his ears and before he knew it, Demon Kid was right there. And while the demon typically only had a couple inches on Green, now he downright loomed over him and radiating smugness.

“Still fighting huh Dragon Boy? Almost impressive! But there’s no point in fighting anymore, the spell will wear you down one way or another. So save your energy, you’ll need it when you and Noodle Girl help me conquer this city in the name of my king. It’ll be awesome, just you wait!” The childlike giddiness would almost be endearing if Green wasn’t fighting a mental battle that he had no chance in winning, not against this kind of magic.

“Mei’ll stop you, she always does,” he grit out, eyes already taking on a faint red glow.

“Oh I wouldn’t be so sure of that, after all I’d like to see her fight against her best friend when he’s under my control. But that’s not for you to worry about. Now, give in Dragon Boy,” Demon Kid commanded and like that, Green found himself being pulled under into a strange haze, only able to think of obeying the commands of his puppetmaster. The demon couldn’t help the joyous laugh as he watched Green’s eyes become red much like the rest of his little army.

Mei had been driving like a madwoman towards the concert the moment she read Green’s text.

“it’s demon kid using spell to hypnotize people don’t have time can already feel control slipping need to destroy his set up and stop the music before he gets city”

“I swear if he’s hurt Green, I will make him wish he stuck with making music,” she hissed to herself before letting out a growl at another red light slowing her down. “To hell with this.” Mei summoned the staff, slamming one end against the street and keeping a tight grip as the staff extended, sending her and the cart sailing above the streets below.

Mei barely flinched at the rough landing in front of the building, only feeling a flash of guilt at the state of the cart. She could pay Pigsy back for the damages later. Staff held tight in her grip and headphones on to buy herself time, Mei was ready for anything. And upon taking notice that all the doors appeared to be either locked or blocked, she did the next best thing to get inside.

Pole vault and smash her way through a window, miraculously not cutting herself on the glass.

She tumbled forward upon landing and took in the scene before her.

Her headphones certainly didn’t stop her from feeling the bass practically rock the foundation of the place yet what Mei found more worrisome were the people. Instead of rushing to attack her, they were all dancing to the beat of the song and looked almost perfectly normal. Except they were all too in sync and choreographed, as if Mei found herself in a music video than anything else. A shiver traveled down her spine as they all seemed to be watching her yet gave her a wide berth to catch sight of the stage.

Her blood boiled at the sight of Demon Kid, perched at his station but wiggling about showing he was barely able to sit still in anticipation.

“There you are, you had me waiting forever for you to get here!” He exclaimed, almost happy to see Mei before he caught himself and schooled his expression back to a businesslike indifference. “Not that it matters, you’ll be joining the Dragon Boy soon enough and we can start taking over this city!”

“Not while I have these headphones on, asshole!” Mei screamed over the music before rushing towards the stage, ready to smash Demon Kid’s equipment to pieces. It was only out of a vague sense of danger which flared in the back of her head and dodging at the right time that she managed to evade being skewered in the side by a sword.

The sight of Green, eyes lifeless red and moving around as if a stiff marionette being led around on strings, was definitely one that Mei was going to see in her nightmares for who knows how long.

Leaping to dodge another swipe of Green’s sword, Demon Kid’s cackle seemed to echo in sync with the music.

“Well then we’ll just have to rip those headphones off your pretty head ourselves! Minions, if you please!” Following the demon’s command, the hypnotized civilians stopped their dancing and attacked.

And Mei soon found herself swarmed and being attacked on all sides. It soon became more of a deadly game of tag, keeping herself out of the reach of her countless pursuers and evading Green’s relentless attacks. She was running out of time and space, she needed to think of a plan.

Fast.

Her eyes soon caught sight of the stage lighting above Demon Kid’s set and it was as if a lightbulb went off in her head.

It was risky and she only had one shot.

But Mei was always one for risk.

With a quick change in direction, Mei dashed towards the center of the swarm and just before she was pulled in, she took aim and threw the staff towards the stage lights. She could only be left to hope that she didn’t miss as a hand grabbed her ankle, only to be face to face with Green. His blank face now alight with a victorious grin before they were left tumbling along the floor in a desperate bid to grab one another.

Mei grunted as she found herself pinned down by Green, the neon lights causing his sword to gleam with menace as he held the tip to her throat. His other hand ripped off her headphones without mercy and her own ears were overwhelmed by the music.

“C’mon staff, don’t let me down,” she said, doing her best to fight as the spell soon attempted to creep its way in her head too.

“Well done, my dear puppet,” Demon Kid congratulated Green, pride practically emanating from his being. “Any last words, Noodle Girl?” His victory was practically guaranteed now and he couldn’t wait to see the look on his king’s face.

Which only made the demon confused at the sight of Mei’s smirk, her eyes focused upwards.

“Yeah. Might want to look above.”

“What?” Demon Kid did so and his heart stuttered at the sight of the spinning staff pinballing across the walls before colliding with the heavy duty wires which held the stage lights.

And cut through them without ease.

Without any suspension, the stage light rig surrendered to the forces of gravity. Demon Kid hurriedly dived off the stage to save himself, narrowly missed being squished by the rig. Unfortunately, his music equipment was not granted the same luck and was crushed in a shower of sparks, cutting off the music.

Blissful silence took over the area and Mei let out a sigh of relief as the sensation of something prying at her mind vanished like mist. And she couldn’t help a smile as the red vanished from Green’s eyes, signifying the end of Demon Kid’s control on him. He let out a groan, crawling back to consciousness as if waking up from the world’s worst nap, before realizing where he was.

“Mei? What happened? Are you okay?” Green was quick to get off Mei and help her back to her feet. She simply gave him a hug, content to see him safe and sound now. He accepted the hug without complaint, feeling less like he was struggling to gather his ability for free will again after having it ripped away. They were quick to break away as flames licked at their backs and they were faced with Demon Kid, his hair now flames as he took in his now ruined DJ equipment.

The duo took fighting stances, only for the demon to take a deep breath and have his hair to return to normal.

“Well, looks like you both got me beat this time. Here I thought I had it all in the bag but then you pulled that off-the-wall solution out of nowhere! And I admit, it looked cool as hell! I’ll give you two this win, here’s a little something for it,” Demon Kid said before tossing a bundle their way, which Mei caught with a look of caution from Green before they unwrapped it. To their mutual surprise, it was two letterman jackets emblazoned with the DJ Horns logo on the back and sleeves.

Before they could question him on this, Demon Kid gave the two a cheeky week before vanishing in a whirlwind of fire and smoke.

After a moment of stunned silence, Mei wordlessly took one of the jackets and put it on.

“After all that, you’re still willing to wear anything associated with DJ Horns?”

“Hey, this is merch I’ve never seen before and you gotta admit, we’d make this look good.” She even struck a pose to prove her point.

With a resigned groan, Green followed suit by putting on the other jacket and silently agreed that the jackets did make them look pretty good.

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 12

happy Chronicles update! I know I waited a while to post this one, but I feel like I’m in a good place to share it now. so, I hope you like it! it’s... an interesting one.

from: itsdjbubbles 29 July, 19:30. La Tortue. you and your group got a setlist?

to: itsdjbubbles i… could have a setlist. and we’re more of a band than a group.

from: itsdjbubbles hell yeah, dude. you’re in.

–––

just saw adrien agreste in person. In Person. i don’t think i can even afford his aura. or, like. the CO2 he’s breathing out?

no, i’m not going to say where. i’m not a total dickwad. just sometimes. mostly because my sister would come for me if i didn’t say so.

also, fellow parisians, who hopefully are not or have not been as much of a dumbass as me: watch this space for an announcement, maybe.

Adrien Agreste is right. There. In all his swoopy-blond-hair, thousand-euro-smile, million-euro-clothing glory. Hanging by the doorway, and seeing him standing at the register like an actual human being, and laughing like an actual human being, and paying with a debit card like an actual human being, is like looking into the goddamn sun. Or like standing in the weird static, plasma dimension that exists between the TV screen and real life. Or both.

Okay. Luka will admit that, for a time that now feels both distant and delirious, he… probably entertained a celebrity crush on Adrien Agreste. But it was short-lived, and it felt more like a warm fuzz in his stomach whenever he passed by those radiant advertisements for perfume, men’s clothing, even underwear. Really, the more he thought about it, the more he was just admitting that Adrien Agreste had a certain charm and attraction because he, like many people in Paris, had a functional pair of eyes.

It was… fantasy, really. Self-indulgent. The way most infatuation tends to be. Observation with a cause; he heard it once in a song.

Adrien Agreste is still standing right. There. At the register. And Luka hasn’t moved from the entrance. Not even when the door hits him unceremoniously in the back and the bell above it mocks him as it announces his arrival.

And then Adrien Agreste turns on his heel, slipping his wallet into his back pocket with one seemingly perfect hand and gripping a pastry box with the other, and Luka’s body reminds him to step aside. He does, still dumbstruck despite how Adrien Agreste literally smiles at him and says good morning, and the door closes behind him again, and not for the first time in his life, Luka forgets what words are or how to string them together.

When he comes to his senses and makes peace with the fact that he just shared the same breathing air as a real-live supermodel, he notices—even from this far away—that Marinette is wearing that expression again. The one from the park. The one he wishes never existed—because even if this is another observation with a cause, he at least has the good sense to know that Marinette Dupain-Cheng does not deserve to look so sad, no matter how many smiles she layers on top of it.

Until now, it seems like Marinette’s only been looking past him, but when her eyes finally settle on him, she perks up a bit from her place at the register. “You dyed your hair,” she says by way of greeting, and he swears her face starts to glow. Or maybe it always was glowing. Maybe it wasn’t because of him.

“Uh,” he replies, because when has he ever been smooth when she’ s looking at him like that? or at all? “Technically, Jules did.” He says it hurriedly, so neither of them has to worry about it or talk about it, but then she has to go and tell him that it looks good on him, and his words have to get stuck on his tongue again when he says, “Thanks, I grew it myself.”

Kill him. Now. He’s ready. Juleka can have his guitar.

“So,” he goes on, a little perkier than he means to, but it’s probably for the best. “That was, uh… that Adrien Agreste guy, huh? You know him or something?”

Marinette’s expression is almost unreadable. It is hard to tell if she regrets knowing Adrien, or if she thinks Luka must be living under a rock because everyone knows who Adrien Agreste is. She snaps back to herself soon enough, and she’s browsing the pastry cases as though it’s her responsibility to find something good for him. “We used to go to middle school together,” she explains. “Just for a while. I even used to have this mondo crush on him. Can you imagine?”

“Yeah,” Luka says, because he can’t count how many times he’s imagined her in love, much less how many times he’s imagined other people in love with her. “Huh. I pegged him as the type to get homeschooled or something.” He tosses a glance behind him, just to see if the limo is still there, but it’s long since peeled away. “What… happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“You…” He pauses. “You said, ‘used to?’”

“Oh,” she says, half-flippant, with a sheepish laugh to match. “Y’know.”

Luka narrows his eyes. “No, I don’t,” he says. “That’s… why I asked?” Even though he maybe, definitely shouldn’t have because it maybe, definitely isn’t his business.

Marinette shrugs, busies herself with boxing up a selection. He doesn’t even have to ask. (Is it good that he doesn’t have to ask?) “I switched schools. That’s all. Turns out absence doesn’t really make the heart grow fonder after all.”

It doesn’t sound like that’s all, especially if the bittersweet look on her face has anything to say about it, but who is he to push? Who is he to do anything but peek into her life and feel grateful, privileged, for what she’s allowed him?

“Anyway,” she goes on; it’s mesmerizing, watching her multitask. The grace with which she can open herself up, so clipped, while taping a box shut. “Our friend is making this music video for a summer class he’s taking. He’s really into film, you know? And we’re playing opposite each other in it. I guess he wanted to come by and chat about it, but I think he had something else in mind.”

Luka’s brow furrows.

When Marinette turns, box in hand, her lips scrunch up awkwardly. Like she’s the one who doesn’t know what to say this time. “Now he’s the one who…”

Oh. Well. Fuck.

“I turned him down,” she adds with a shrug. “In high school. And we’re still… sort of friends. We text and stuff, have a couple of mutual friends. I just get the sense those feelings—his, I mean—never really went away. There’s just… something I can’t shake. Do you know what I mean?”

Does he know what she means? Does he feel? He nods, dumbly, and maybe this moment separated by a counter and a cash register isn’t supposed to be as deep and twisted and thorny as it is. But it is, and it feels that way because he feels, and he wonders if she feels it, too. If there are parts of her that never went away, either.

“Sorry,” Marinette blurts out once the moment ends—too soon, as far as he’s concerned. “You didn’t ask to hear all that.”

“I don’t mind.” Luka offers her a smile because it’s the best thing he has on him. “Life stories, remember?”

She smiles back. It’s slow, and knowing, and it makes him melt in his shoes. “Are you gonna make a song about it, Music Man?”

Okay. Okay. Wow.

Maybe it was worth staying alive for literally this one moment.

“I could write a song about it,” he says; it’s a miracle he doesn’t stammer. “Would you come and listen to it?”

“In the park?”

“At a gig.”

Marinette looks surprised, and then impressed, and damn if he doesn’t want to keep doing things that make her make that face. “Maybe I will,” she says, almost demure, like he asked her on a date or something. (Did he? Ask her on a date?) She looks just past him, and when he follows her gaze it lands on a bulletin board by the door. “Maybe you should swing by with a flyer or something.”

“Maybe I will.” Wow, two for two. He takes the box, reaches for his wallet. “I’ll watch that video, too, we’ll call it even—”

Her hand is on his before he can even pull out his card. And it isn’t until after she’s pushed his wallet back toward him that it finally registers that she’s touched him. “Don’t worry about it,” she says. “It’s on the house. Just bring the flyer, and then we’ll call it even.”

Luka looks between her and the box a number of times, too many questions on his tongue to get any of them out. Why is she being so nice to him? why does she insist on giving him things he hasn’t worked for, or finding loopholes to prove that he did work for it? Is she flirting with him? Or does she pity him? Or is she just being nice because he’s one of her parents’ regulars? Or does she… does she, maybe…

He holds his breath, and searches her eyes, and gets lost in the music he’s still sort of trying to place. He slips his wallet into his back pocket all the same, and he takes the box from her, and it’s ridiculous how fiercely he wishes he could feel her fingers brush the back of his hand again. “You got a deal,” he murmurs—mentally kicks himself for sounding so out of touch. He backs out of the store like it’s illegal to tear his eyes away; it feels like it is, when she’s smiling at him like that. The Not For Customers smile.

Admittedly, he wonders if she ever gave Adrien Agreste that smile, once upon a time.

Maybe he shouldn’t have wondered, because his back bumps right into the door, and the bell above it jingles as though it’s annoyed. But Marinette isn’t; in fact, she giggles behind a hand, and she gives him a little wave like she’s going to keep the memory safe in the pocket of her apron. He manages a weak laugh, and a wave of his own, and then he’s stumbling out the door and walking his bike to the first open bench he can find. He needs to sit down. Put his head in his hands for a while.

Because he thinks she just flirted with him. And he thinks he flirted right back. And he knows she just touched him, in spite of everything she told him about Adrien, in spite of him being right. There. And it’s all finally, finally sinking in, and the world is spinning in a way he’s not really used to, and…

Maybe he just needs a sugar boost.

Shaking his head and sighing, he pops the seal on the pastry box, fully prepared to find a half dozen napoleons inside. There aren’t—only two pastries.

One napoleon.

And one pear tart.

His heart stutters. Makes up for how he didn’t before.

That’s how it gets him.

hey mom? mr. president? deity of indeterminate gender?

how do i go about legally changing my name to Music Man?

you know. hypothetically.

[hufflepuffhollander]

metempsychosis: t. holland series (pt. 3)

a/n | we’re finally getting to the good stuff :-) now that i’m turning this into a submission for a competition i’m having to change all of the names and tenses (bc i can’t submit “y/n” to professionals) so hopefully there aren’t too many typos !

synopsis | A young couple whose lives were both lost in a tragic accident are reincarnated as new people. As they collide as strangers in their second lives, they must try to make sense of the innate connection they feel.

cw | reincarnation au. language, fluff, a lil angst, flashbacks. this one ain’t too sad. 2.6k words.

Read part 2, join the taglist

1993

{ He took a gulp as he opened the door to see her sweet face waiting to be let in. “Hey, glad you found me,” he laughed nervously, arm reaching up and over to scratch at a nonexistent itch on the back of his head.

She wandered through the doorframe, taking in the smell of his apartment, counting the dirty dishes in the sink, smiling at the family photos he had on display. “I’m glad we’re finally getting around to having a movie night,” she grinned back.

“Sorry, you know how crazy school has been-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Chemistry this and med school that. I can’t believe I’ve found myself swooning over such a nerd.”

“Says the girl who prefers numbers to real people.”

She gave him a dramatic slap to the shoulder, feigning offense. “Just put on the movie before I ditch you for some spreadsheets.”

He gave her lower arm a lighthearted squeeze and guided her over to the couch, putting the tape in and plopping down next to her. He grabbed a blanket off of the armrest and whipped it up in the air, letting it fall spread out across her lap. She looked surprised at his intuitiveness. “I remember you telling me you can’t watch a home movie without a good blanket,” he said.

Her eyes crinkled at the edges at his attention to detail, picking up the corner closest to him and motioning for him to take half of the quilt. “Then you shouldn’t, either.”

The rom-com had an argument scene between the protagonist and his love interest where they disputed over who took what side of the bed the first time they slept together. He laughed at the silliness of it all as she sank further into his body as their chests rose and fell.

“Do you think we’ll need to pick sides of the bed?” he whispered as the scene changed.

“This is only our second date- I won’t be sleeping in your bed anytime soon, mister,” she smiled, stare still pointed at the screen.

“Well, fine, but it seems like this is a conversation we need to have if we have any chance of making it,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Let’s just pick sides of the couch then!” She looked down at her own lap, then at his. “I’m on the left side right now, so I’m claiming it as mine.”

“Wait, I didn’t even get a chance to experience the left side!’

“This is your couch,” she rolled her eyes at his playful tone.

“So I’m just stuck with the right?”

“Yes.”

“Forever?!”

“What other option would there be?”

He huffed in disapproval, but as time and movie dates passed, he had carved his own dugout in the left couch cushion that fit him like a glove. If he ever wasn’t on the right side of her, looking at her side profile from that specific angle, he couldn’t help but feel out of place. When they did finally share a bed, there was no need to fuss over who took which side, and no matter how many new couches they went through in different moves at different stages of their life, he sat to the right, learning to keep a throw pillow on his lap to anticipate her inevitably lying down and resting her head on it. }

You walked over to Tom, the soft padding of your feet against the wooden floors ringing out as the only sound in the suddenly quiet apartment.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Uh, coffee, if you have it,” he replied, still clutching the throw pillow in his lap.

“Really? At 8pm?”

“Yeah, caffeine doesn’t affect me, I have one of those recessed genes or something.”

You shrugged and obliged, happy to have something to keep you busy as you paced over to the kitchen to brew the coffee, holding your hip. Tom swiveled around to watch you work.

His words sliced through the silence. “Are you feeling any better than earlier? You seemed pretty off in the car-”

“I’m fine.” You didn’t want to replay the emotions you felt while Tom was driving in your head, so you cut him off before he could keep talking about it. “Here’s your coffee.”

He took a sip and burned his tongue, scrunching up his face in such a cute way that you couldn’t help but let out a small giggle, sitting down next to him on the couch.

“Fuck, that’s hot!” he started fanning his stuck out tongue like it would do something, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smirk when he noticed you were laughing.

“I’m sorry, you literally just watched me brew it...” You shrugged, still entertained by his dramatic display.

The mood changed then and you were finally able to loosen yourselves up, able to chime in with conversation, exchanging eye contact that didn’t make either one of you nauseous. Now that you had the chance to look into Tom’s eyes for a little while longer, you was able to see just how mesmerizingly milky they were.

He continued in a panic. “I can’t lose my tongue! That’s how I make a living!”

You raised an eyebrow at him and he shot back a face of realization.

“That did not come out how I meant it to.”

You giggled again, pulling a blanket over your lap.

“I meant because I sing-”

“Yeah, Tom, I figured.”

You both had laugh lines splaying across your faces and you felt yourself settle back into the cushions a little easier, growing more used to being in his presence. Once you had given it a chance, you and Tom actually got along quite well.

“Speaking of which, can I hear something?”

“You want me to play for you?”

“Well, I’m an artist and you got to see my work...so, yeah,” you smiled, poking at his shoulder.

“Um, I don’t have my guitar,” Tom blurted out an excuse, because he was currently terrified of singing to you; you already made him excitedly nervous enough.

But you weren’t letting him off the hook that easy. “Isn’t it just in your car?”

“...so you saw it, then.” He sighed in defeat, getting up to get his keys.

“Yep.”

“You’re really gonna make me sing for you?”

You smiled and nodded at him.

“It’s the least you can do now that I’ve graciously opened my home and my coffee pot up to you.”

He shook his head as he laughed and ran out to grab the instrument. Once he was settled back down on the sofa, you watched him with your head tilted to the side as he became lost in the strings, tuning and then strumming onto them a truly beautiful melody. He saw you in his peripheral so seemingly enthralled watching him play, your bottom lip half bitten as you focused on his hands and fingers moving.

“Well, truthfully, I haven’t come up with anything good in a few days,” he said, still in denial that his dreamy muse had abandoned him. “So what’s a song you know? I’ll just play a cover.”

You pondered for too long on the question, thinking your answer would hold a lot more weight about your character than it actually did. Tom was far from that kind of deep thinking; he was too busy taking in the way your wavy hair framed your hollow cheeks.

“How about ‘Iris’?” You took a chance on one of your favorite old songs, assuming he wouldn’t know how to play it.

“Ah, a classic.” He started to pluck out the first few notes, and you were amazed that he already knew it by heart. But where you expected to hear the lyrics come in, Tom stayed silent. He looked over to your confused expression and stopped the music.

“What?”

“Aren’t you gonna sing the words?”

“It’s not really in my range. You can though, if you want?”

You sat upright. “Me?”

“Well, if you wanna hear the words that badly,” he shrugged, grinning at you.

“Ugh, fine.”

“Wow, she paints and sings?”

“Hey, do you want me to or not?!”

He chuckled at you, loving how rosy your cheeks had gotten, and started the song over, his hands on autopilot.

You sang the first few words of the first verse, and upon hearing your voice, Tom’s jaw all but fell to the floor; he was completely awestruck.

That voice. He knew that voice.

1993

{ He sat slouched on his barstool, listening to someone do a country song a great injustice up on the microphone.

“Why did you drag me to this, mate?”

“To a bar?”

“To a bar with an open mic. I can’t listen to a Beatles’ classic being sung off key for a third time tonight.” He popped the top off of another beer and chugged it down as another amateur made their way to the front of the room.

The girl on the stage started to sing and he all but did a spit take. Her voice was incredible, melting into his ears like smooth butter. And once he turned to look at her, well, that was all it took. He had waded through the bar crowd so quickly that she was barely off the makeshift stage when he approached her, blurting out “Hi, you’re so beautiful, I mean, your voice, I mean...uh, can I buy you a drink?” and kicking himself afterwards for not even trying an ounce to playing it cool. But it didn’t matter; one look was all it took for her, too. }

Tom racked his brain as you continued to sing, your voice echoing through the apartment like an angelic aura. That was it, he thought, she sounds like the singing voice in his dreams—and the day he’d met you was the same day he’d stopped dreaming—no, no...that wasn’t possible.

But he couldn’t shake the eerie thought from his head. Were you trapped in his brain until he met you in person? Had his angel manifested itself into the beautiful singing girl sitting next to him?

He stopped the song halfway through as he felt a rush of copper through his forehead and down to his nose. Shit.

“Um, where’s your bathroom?” he shot up and covered his nose with his sleeve, his guitar haphazardly falling onto the couch behind him.

“Down the hall, first door on the left,” you answered, confused. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just gotta-” Tom bolted down the hall and shut the bathroom door abruptly, uncovering his face in the small mirror to see a familiar trickle of red pooling above his upper lip. When he reentered the living room after cleaning himself up, he hadn’t realized that his blood had stained the collar of his t-shirt.

“Tom, you have...” you stood up and made her way over to him, touching your finger to his shirt. He looked down in horror and sighed heavily.

“Yeah, it’s…I’m sorry. I get these nosebleeds.”

You smiled up at him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. I might have an extra shirt lying around, if you want it?”

Mortified but infatuated with how warming your touch was, Tom smiled back. “That would be great.”

You came out of your room with a t-shirt in hand. “This is the only one I have that will probably fit you,” you shrugged, tossing it to him and trying not to let your smile show as he stretched to take off his shirt right in front of you, revealing quite the body underneath. You pretended to busy yourself with something, anything, so he wouldn’t notice that you were watching him—but he did, and he didn’t mind it.

Tom’s phone lit up with a call in that moment, and he picked up to hear the tow trucker on the other end.

“Hey, sorry to let you know we won’t be getting out to your area for another few hours, turns out the truck lost its own tire on the freeway and we’re stranded,” the voice said, causing Tom to pace around the living room, speaking curtly with the man on the phone.

“Okay, right, thanks, bye.” He hung up and turned to you, pouting.

“My insurance is shit,” he shook his head. “They won’t be here for hours.”

You feigned upset, but neither of you were too unhappy about the opportunity to spend more time together.

“...do you have anything stronger than coffee?”

You winked at Tom as you made your way back into the kitchen. “Coming right up.”

You passed the night away, mixing your coffee with rum and childhood memories with the anecdotes of a broken heart. As the hours trickled by, you sank closer on the old couch; you kept track of Tom’s heartbeat, watching his chest rise and fall in rhythm, and he kept losing his train of thought in the gold specks of your eyes.

You opened up to him about your disability, and upon seeing you become so open, so vulnerable with him, Tom couldn’t help but lean forward, place a light hand around the shape of your cheek, and capture your lips in his own. Upon the contact, you both felt as if you had been delightfully tased—and it sent your head reeling.

You saw fragmented scenes in your head—images of flashing lights, a shouting couple, a tender, loving kiss frozen in time. As Tom pulled back, the fantastical man in your head followed suit, and you doubled over on the couch as a shock of familiarity churned your stomach at the realization that the man had been a dead match for Tom.

The flashes continued, and the girl on the receiving end of the kiss became less pixellated; you felt the warmth of a lifetime of memories flooding your system as you registered that the girl in the images was, in fact, you yourself.

Tom held you upright as you held your face in your hands, shaking your head softly. “y/n, what just happened? Was it the kiss? Did I read the room wrong? I’m-”

“No, Tom, it wasn’t you,  I just…” you trailed off, bolting up from the couch and quickly pacing to the kitchen. “I need some water.”

He watched you from his seat with concern, readying himself to run to your rescue, just as he heard the loud, startling sound of a horn. The tow truck had finally made it.

“You should go,” you said, refusing to turn around and look Tom in the eye for fear of making any more sense of what she’d just seen.

“y/n-”

“Please go.”

“Please tell me I can see you again.”

You thought on that for a moment, frightened but unready to let go of this mystery.

“Okay.” You remained staring out of the kitchen window.

Tom stood up and silently exited the apartment, closing the door softly behind him, wondering where in time and space he had just lost your thoughts. As he arrived home much later and finally succumbed to sleep, he wasn’t able to rest long as he was visited by his own nightmare.

He had been in the driver’s seat of his car, unidentified noises pinging here and there as he heard someone mumbling, unable to discern their words. He turned to the passenger, his vision lagging as it made its way to her, and saw none other than you, yourself but not, crying softly, the vividness of your features making the dream feel more like a memory. As he tried to lend a comforting hand—the arm in his dream seemingly extending a mile away to reach you—the car was hit with a blinding force, and the vision went black as he was jolted awake.

[random-mha-thoughts]

Creep part 2 (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x fem!Reader

Genre: Spice!

Sequel to Creep (part 1)

Summary: Your roommate forces you to a dorm hangout with her boyfriend where you get hit on by a creep, only to have Bakugou come along and help you with the situation.

Word count: 2,835

Tags:  @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: More spice than the first part ;)  This one took a different turn from the first part, so I hope you all like it!  The ending might be a little rushed because I’m really exhausted and I wanted to finish this before I pass out on my keyboard.

This part was inspired by a Tiktok that was going to be a completely different scenario, but it ended up fitting perfectly as a sequel, so I used it!

Also I hit 100 followers!?  In 2 weeks?!  What are y’all following me for, I’m trash!?  Nonetheless thank you for supporting my tiny blog out of the vast world of Tumblr, I really appreciate it.  100 followers may not seem like a lot for some of you, but I never expected this to happen and I’m so grateful for each of you 😘😘  Ok enough of the mushy stuff, onward to the sequel!

Maybe I was hit by cupid's arrow.  Or the devil's, considering the type of thoughts I'm having.

I'm not usually the kind of person who lusts over people or their appearances.  I'll at least acknowledge them as hot and then move on, but I don't dwell on them.  Until I went back to our shared dorm still wearing Bakugou's hoodie and started having flashbacks of our few moments together.  His scent coupled with the memory of his smirk and those intense crimson eyes left me with a lingering high.  We had left things unfinished, and that little nagging in the back of my head drove me to do something I wouldn't normally do.

And that was stalking him.  I ended up scrolling through Ochaco's following list for his profile, and finding it was akin to discovering a hidden treasure.  From the outline of his build in that long-sleeve shirt I last saw him in, I knew there was something there.  While his profile displayed mostly pictures of his friends hanging out, there were also clips of him training in the gym.  Only when I chose those to watch those and scrolled to the end of the set would I be gifted with a beautiful mirror selfie of him in a black tank top.  Even just standing there, hands in his pockets or arms crossed across his chest, the curve of his arms and veins straining underneath entice me.

But that wasn't what stands out to me the most.  It's actually his neck.  In the small amount of time I'd spoken to him, the moment that he removed his hood and exposed it to me is the image that replays the most.  The structure of his muscles and his collarbone melding together into a perfect sculpture of a man.  That's what mostly haunted me.  To think it's one of the more sensitive parts of him makes my heart pound a little harder.  In every picture, it was the first thing I looked for.

"You planning on taking that off anytime soon?"

I jolted when Ochaco's sly comment awoke me from my reverie.  "Yeah, I just needed to check something first," I tried to play it off before - reluctantly - ripping the hoodie off of me.

And now, the day after that, I have to give it back to him.  This morning, a rogue though flashed into my mind: instead of simply handing it to him, I could wear it to class and have him watch me peel it off my body.  Such a thought never occurred to me before, startling me for being brash.

I did wear it though. I told myself it was cold in the classroom and I would need it.

When I walked into the classroom, I didn't dare to glance at the back for him since my thoughts haven't been the purest and I think I might've choked if I didn't mentally prepare myself.  If he was nice enough, he would have respected that sign, but he wasn't.

As soon as I turned around from getting a pen from my bag, there he was leaning on my desk, earning an embarrassing squeal from me.

His head tilts against his arm.  "That's a lovely shade on you."

My breath stops for a millisecond.  Huh?

Bakugou twirls one of the strings on the hoodie around his finger.  "The black matches your nails."

Oh.  Duh.  "Yeah?  I might keep it then."  Just to make my point, I pull the hood up on my head.  "You're probably not getting this back."

"Hording my clothes now?"  He clicks his tongue, "Sounds like you're the creep now.  Or just a thief."

Haaa, you don't know the half of it.  From the position he's in, leaning down on the desk and resting his head on his arm, there's a very perfect view of his neck and collarbone right in front of my eyes from under his black shirt and denim jacket.  I try not to linger on it and force myself to concentrate on his face instead.  "I'll give it back after class, this room is always too cold for me."  But today it feels just a bit hotter.

We agree to get lunch and head to the library after class until the professor arrives and he returns to his seat, but not before sending a wink my way.  I clutch the neck of the hoodie, stunned as the gesture spirals be back to us almost kissing, before the fire alarm rudely interrupted everything.  For the rest of class, I'm more concerned with how to take off an oversized hoodie in a sexy way than any kind of modern British prose.

.

We decide on staying on one of the library floors where a moderate level of talking is allowed, taking over a small, private study room where the door is transparent and there's a rectangular glass window to see inside.  I'm partially thankful for the extra insurance keeping me from possibly jumping on him, but that doesn't keep me from staring and letting my mind run wild.

Bakugou chose the seat at the head of the table and I chose the seat adjacent to him.  "I can't get over how the old hag typed out an entire 7 page guideline on how to write this paper.  Does she expect us to write a dissertation or something?!"

I slurp my udon.  "She needs to chill.  I thought her sarcastic humor was funny the first week of class, but she's getting on my nerves now."

"Then why do you keep laughing at all her jokes?"

"Because I need to kiss up to her so she can at least remember me to give me a good grade for one."  I put a piece of chicken in my mouth.  "And also, I'm low key scared of her killing my first born child."

Bakugou almost chokes on his Mapo Tofu laughing at that, throwing his head back and slamming the table.  The image of me kissing his neck flashes through me and cuts my laugh short.  Calm yourself!  I clear my throat.  "Speaking of scary people, if I had met you at the party, I would've had a very different impression of you, since you were much more...aggressive there."

He has a confused expression before he looks down at his food.  "You mean how I was screaming playing that game?"

"Yeah."  I note how uncomfortable he looks on the subject.  "I guess people usually think that of you?"

"Something like that.  I was kind of a loudmouth in high school, I think I've gotten better."  He turns to me, twirling his chopsticks in his hand curiously.  "What was your first impression of me?"

I shrug.  "You're quiet, you have a brain in your head, and you like to sleep in class sometimes."

The blond snorts, "People don't usually associate me with 'quiet,' you'd be the first."

Should I be flattered by that? I wonder.

We finish our meals without another word.  I pull out my laptop and start looking through the guidelines for our paper again.  "I don't even know what book I want to write about, they're all so boring."

Bakugou shrugs, still peering into his laptop screen.  "I would just pick the one with a theme you can bullshit the most about."

"I guess," I slump down onto my arm.  I always liked reading growing up so I didn't think I would have a tough time in this class, but the professor really drains the energy out of me.

I feel a bit hot in his hoodie, perking up at the opportunity to pique his interest.  Maybe I can lift it up so my shirt underneath slides up and shows my stomach a little?  Would that be sexy?  How do I remove it casually enough in one swift movement without fucking it up?  Maybe he'll find any way I do it attractive, because hopefully that's how guys think.

I decide to just try it an see how it goes.  Lifting it with both hands from the bottom, I drag the hoodie up and almost get it over my head, feeling my shirt underneath lifting below it.  I try straightening my back to make my posture look a little more curvy than I probably already am.  The problem I face is getting it off my head, which immediately dampers my effortlessly-sexy act into an awkward one.  I have to slip my arms out from the sleeves and push it up from underneath, messing my hair up slightly in the process.

I sneak a glance out of the corner of my eye to gauge his reaction in case he saw it.  There is none, his eyes are still glued to the screen.

Well, that was kind of a fail, I think, throwing the hoodie onto the space between us.  I'm just a bit disappointed that I can't channel my inner flirt around boys I like, but it's not the end of the world.

"Too bad, I thought you look pretty good in my hoodie," he spares me a smug grin.

I freeze up at the statement, heat rushing to my cheeks.  "I think so too," I murmur, "Maybe I should steal your jacket too."

He stops tapping on his keyboard and stares at me with an unfamiliar emotion.  I'm about to ask what he's thinking before he removes his jacket and hands it to me.  "I'd like to see that."

I almost think it's a joke, but I take it from him anyway, draping it around my shoulders without putting my arms through the sleeves.  I get the sense that it might be too big on me if I put it on.  A fresh bout of his scent comes with it, sending me into another spiral of unhealthy thoughts.

"I think the universe is trying to tell me something, because you look good in all my clothes," Bakugou leans back in the seat, looking down his nose at me.

The implication makes my heart flutter.  "Yeah, they're actually mine and you'd stolen them from me before.  Or you just have a really girlish figure."  Like hell I believe that, you were probably sculpted from stone by the gods.

"Pfft, whatever you say," he rolls his eyes and looks back his laptop, scanning over the notes he wrote down.  "So, this is the list of themes for each of the books we read for class, wanna hear it just in case it triggers something for you?"

My mind is still hung on the sculpted from the gods thought, so I absently nod  while staring at him to make him think I'm paying attention.  In reality, my thoughts wander to the pictures I'd seen of him a few nights ago, the gym mirror selfies in his tank tops.  His arms are definitely just a teaser for what he probably has underneath that shirt, and I'm betting on there being a washboard waiting for me to run my hands over, judging by the brief glance I had down his shirt earlier.

Unconsciously, my eyes trace down to his black button down.  It practically teases me, his top 2 buttons undone to expose all of his collarbone and the top of his defined chest.  I don't have to go by the low quality mirror posts on his profile or the fuzzy memories from the party, it's right there for me to see.  Flashes of me running my fingers over his neck as I nibble on his ear, rogue noises of his hypothetical sighs of bliss, my hands spreading his shirt open to allow for more space to kiss down his muscular neck.  Each new image quickens my heart rate and sends a new tremor down my body.

I'd love to just devour him.

"Hey!"

Both his voice and the rational one in my head snap me back to reality.  Did I really just-

Annoyance creases in his brow as I recompose myself and sit up straight.  "Sorry, I didn't catch the last thing," my voice comes out noticeably strained.

"What's wrong with you-"  Just like that, his face crosses with an awareness that only morphs into a smirk.  "I guess you're letting your mind wander."

My eyes widen.  Shit, he knows, I'm caught!  "No, I'm just-"

"We've only known each other for a day and you're already obsessed with me, aren't you?"  He leans forward, only to have me lean back, but he pulls the collar of his jacket on me to keep me in place.  "That might be a little unhealthy, don't you think?"

I'm staring at his descending lips, part of me holding a desire for them to quell the feeling I've locked up.

Bakugou hums low, breath caressing my face.  "I think we have some unfinished business from the other night.  You must've been thinking about that."  His gaze flickers down to my slightly agape lips before slamming his down on them.  Though it's not delicate by any means, it still feels like a tester.  Electricity shudders through me at our long-awaited reunion, and when he pulls away for a moment to look down at me with half-lidded eyes, I know he feels the same thing.

And something breaks free inside me.  I hurriedly press my lips back against his, catching him by surprise.  I take the lead, quickening the tempo of our kisses as one of my hands tangle in his soft hair, not giving either of us time to breathe.  Leaning forward into him, my stomach presses into the table corner between us, and I break away from him.  Allowing only a few pants, I jolt from my seat and round the corner to take the place of his lap and join our lips again forcibly, my knees on either side of him, pressing our bodies together against the back of the chair and swiveling into the table for stability.  He was caught off guard before, but he melts into me and allows his hands to grab my waist.

I trail my tongue onto his lower lip before tracing my lips across his jaw.  "You weren't expecting this, were you?"  I breathe against the shell of his ear, his natural musk filling my nostrils.

A low groan escape him.  "I didn't think you wanted me this much.  Must've driven you a little crazy somehow."

My hand tangled in his hair drags down his neck, my nails grazing it ever so slightly, eliciting another growl from him and his grip me tighter.  "I'll show you some of what I was just thinking about."  Starting at the base of his ear, I pepper more open-mouthed kisses down the same neck that's haunted me, sometimes tickling my tongue over the spots he  stiffens up at.

Once I reach the base of his neck, barely caressing that taunting collarbone, I move the opening in his shirt away to expose more of his chest to me, continuing up to where his shoulder and neck conjoin, remaining there to massage it with my lips and lightly graze my teeth on it.  "This little creeper wanted to taste this neck you love to flaunt."  I pull away and meet his wanton gaze.  "I wonder if I should mark it."

Calloused hands dig under my shirt as he catches his breath.  "Depends.  What kind of relationship do you want from me?"  He's holding himself back.

I never stopped to think about it.  He's a pretty great guy, we have pretty strong chemistry, and we bounce off each other really well, not to mention he's the only guy to have awakened such new feelings from me.  Looping my arms around his neck and joining our foreheads together, I mutter against his lips, "Let's go on a few dates maybe?"

He smirks and gives me another slow kiss before pulling away.  "Deal.  But let's take this slow.  I can very easily do something like this to you too, but then how will I get to know you?"

I sit back on his thighs.  "Fair point.  And, just an aside," my face gets warmer at my admittance, "I don't normally do this.  I'm usually more reserved, but you're different, I guess."

"I think you were just really thirsty for a real man," he winks, earning a shove in the chest from me.  "That was an impressive show though, I'll give you credit.  Maybe later, I can show you what goes on in my head.  Except, it's a lot more than just a few neck kisses."

I almost choke on that, my cheeks growing even hotter.

Bakugou's expression softens, the teasing disappearing.  "But before that, we can enjoy ourselves in calmer things.  Like dinner?  Or bowling?"

My chest swells with something lighter than desire.  "Sounds like a plan."

He plants a kiss on my nose.  "Okay, now get off before someone walks in on us.  It's a study room, not a make out room, creep."

I get off him and settle back into my seat.  "I think I prefer the term 'perv,' thank you very much."

[pengiesama]

A Log, Carved for Two (Fic, TOZ, Sorey/Mikleo)

Title: A Log, Carved for Two Series: Tales of Zestiria Pairing: Sorey/Mikleo

Summary:

Sorey and Mikleo (and the gang) visit an old inn, with a legendary log. In the process, they learn about life, love, and a certain appreciation for their luck in both.

--

Part of the Sormik Advent Calendar 2020's Secret Santa challenge! I got @applegelstore's prompt:

"I'm terrible with prompts so how about hot springs but it's a 1000 year old log serving as bathtub (if that irritates you please watch Abroad in Japan, Escape to Mt. Fuji)"

(...well, you'll get what you ask for...)

@sormikadventcalendar / sormikadvent (Twitter)

--

Link: AO3

Read on Tumblr!

It had, of course, always been Sorey’s dream to see a world where seraphim and humans could live side by side. And it was a dream that he had achieved, through sacrifice and pain and determination. Humans and seraphim now lived in one world, laughing together, arguing together…

…but, well, Sorey seemed to have slept through the beginning years of this glorious new world. Consequently, he didn’t get to see the wonder, experience the discovery, attend any of the cool parties, et cetera. He awoke in a world where it was just a Thing. It was the norm. Seraphim? Of course, there’s one that runs the bakery down the street, and one that lives in the pond out back; perfectly good neighbor, he is, he never makes a ruckus and keeps the mosquito population down in the summers.

(“Mosquitos Steve,” Mikleo managed to comment, through his discomfort, as he and Sorey walked to the bakery as the man they were speaking to had given them directions. “Yes. We all know about Mosquitos Steve.”)

Still, it was more than Sorey could’ve ever dreamed of. This sense of normalcy was a hit of comfort and nostalgia for his days in Elysia, in a time when the rest of the world had marched on so far without him. And, moreover, it was really interesting reading all the literature on the intervening period, and then grilling seraphim who’d lived through those periods to check for accuracies and contrasting viewpoints. And, moreover, it was a pleasure beyond words doing it with Mikleo by his side, with all of eternity stretching out in front of them.

This merging of worlds is what led to the subject of the day’s outing: a cozy little inn near the town (now city) of Lastonbell, tucked away from the city’s lights and avant-garde art installations, and tucked away from the Shepherdsmas bustle and the cold winter winds. Known for its history, and its hot springs, it was owned and managed by a merged human-seraphim family. That would’ve been enough to pique Sorey’s interest, but add in the prospect of great food and a soak in the hot springs with a hot babe…

“…And as for the hot springs,” Mikleo continued to explain to the group as they walked up the lengthy stone steps to the inn’s entrance. “You could, of course, just go to the back and soak in the ordinary springs.”

“Which I will,” Edna quipped. She’d grown weary of climbing steps and was forcing Zaveid to carry her on his back; she was bound to him with vines, seated in a comfortable chair of flowers, while Zaveid huffed and puffed.

“But did you know that there’s a thousand-year-old log that the resident seraphim have enchanted to serve as a private spring?” Mikleo tried to steer the conversation back.

“Wow,” Edna said drily. “An old log.”

“Wow…” Sorey breathed, voice breathless with awe. “An old log…”

“A thousand-year-old log!” Mikleo reiterated, voice brimming with excitement. “Do you know what that means?”

“It means that we’ll get to enjoy the hot springs without having to watch you two canoodle,” Edna said, and gave Zaveid a whack with a vine before he could make any sort of lewd followup. “Giddyap.”

“I’m afraid I’ll also have to take a rain check on the, ah, alternate bathing arrangement,” Lailah said. “I’ll leave you two boys to it, but please fetch me from the sauna when everyone’s finished up, woodn’t you?”

Everyone fell into a pained and eerie silence. Lailah’s eyes darted around, and she cleared her throat.

“Fetch me from the sauna, woodn’t you? When you boys are done with your log?”

As the silence stretched ever onward, Zaveid sighed tragically.

“Guys, I’m gonna have to save my own skin on this one. Have fun with the log and don’t get splinters where the sun don’t shine.”

With that, he summoned the power of the wind and dashed up the remaining steps in the blink of an eye, trailing swirling snowflakes and flowers from Edna’s perch as he went.

Lailah stared at Mikleo and Sorey, expectantly.

“…haha,” Sorey offered a weak laugh. “A-anyway, with the log being that old, it means that this inn predated us by a long shot. And could mean that the seraphim and humans running this place could’ve been doing the same thing back then, too…”

“With much less tourist traffic, but yes,” Mikleo agreed. “It’s something I’d love to ask the owners, after we’re done with dinner and our bath.”

Sorey’s ears perked up, hopefully. Mikleo gave a knowing smile.

“The private suite that has the log isn’t easy to get,” Mikleo said, his tone brimming with pride. “But of course, I pulled some strings.”

Great food, and a soak in a really old log with a hot babe. Sorey was the luckiest man alive.

 --

 Sorey’s jaw was slack with awe as he saw it. As he saw The Log.

“Wow…” Sorey marveled.

He and Mikleo both crept up to it as if it was a rare animal, as beautiful as it was dangerous, as if it was ready to roll away and into the winter’s night if spooked. It was exquisitely-carved and preserved, and the growth rings exposed at each end coyly insinuated at it being even older than anticipated. There were no plumbing elements installed to spoil its perfection; it was simply pure wood, pure Log. Truly a marvel worth the long trip, the long stair climb, and the painful sting of Lailah’s puns.

“Would our guests care to have their bath, or should this one leave them to admire it for a while longer?”

Mikleo and Sorey were startled out of their reverie by a low, serene voice. It was one of the inn staff, standing so still and so quiet in the corner of the elegant bathing room that they hadn’t even noticed them in the presence of the magnificent log specimen. Dressed in a modest but striking blue-and-black kimono and wooden sandals, the staffperson slowly glided over to the tub-side, regarding Mikleo and Sorey with an unknowable expression. With a wave of their hand, they summoned hot water to fill the tub.

“Well, at least we’ve found someone to chat with about the inn’s history,” Sorey thought.

The fragrance of an ancient forest filled the cool winter air, and the stream from the bath wafted to the open-air balcony to join the dancing snowflakes outside. The staffperson lowered a hand to touch the surface of the water; ostensibly testing the temperature for their guests. The effortless way they’d woven their artes made Sorey suspect that the gesture was more for guests’ ease of mind, rather than any uncertainty on the staffperson’s part.

“Our guests shall find towels and refreshments laid out for them,” the staffperson said. “Please do not hesitate to summon me as needed.”

With that, they bowed, and turned to fold themselves back into the shadows (or the staff corridors) from whence they came. Sorey managed to shake himself free of the enchanting log in time to call out.

“Wait! Can we ask you a few questions about this place?”

The staffperson slanted a look over their shoulder. Their white-blue hair was tied up into a severe bun that was quite at odds with their youthful features, and their ice-blue eyes showed an ancient weariness.

Sorey scratched at his head, mussing its newly-long (and blond) length even further.

“First, um, I’m Sorey, and this is Mikleo…”

“Yes,” the staffperson said, simply. “Of course, this one knows the names of such famous guests. We hope that you find our inn to your liking thus far.”

“It’s great!” Sorey assured. “We just really wanted to know more about its history. Is it okay if we ask you some stuff? I mean, if you have the time. We’ll share our snacks with you? What’s your name?”

The staffperson paused for a long moment.

“Lithia,” they stated, finally. “Please, ask this one anything you care to know.”

 --

 Lithia was not only a font of knowledge, answering any question Sorey or Mikleo threw at them – they were also, as a matter of fact, one of the original founders of the inn.

(“No,” they had to clarify, at Sorey and Mikleo’s insistent questions, they were not the ones to chop down the log.)

It was through Lithia that the inn’s history was told, in full.

One thousand and twenty years ago, a seraph and a human fell in love, but they lived in a world that was not meant for them.

One thousand and twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen years ago, the seraph became weaker and weaker, more and more ill, suffering under the malevolence of the townsfolk and their cruelty towards their beloved human. It was different, back then. Humans fear what they don’t understand. Seraphim, also. Surely, our esteemed guests understand this too well.

One thousand and fifteen years ago, the human left human civilization behind, carrying the seraphim on his back, questing to find a place for the seraphim to recover in peace, a place to call their own.

There was, of course, no such place. Living as hermits in the woods would have to do instead.

They lived quite happily, the two of them. They enjoyed the beauty of nature, and the pleasure of each other’s company, for many years. The human eventually felled a tree and carved it into a lovely bath. The seraph used their artes to make it into a log hot spring. How whimsical, how unique; in another time, the two of them could have opened a lovely inn, and become known across the continent for their hospitality.

But of course, the human eventually aged and died, as humans do.

The seraph was left with the home they’d built together, and their silly little log bath.

The seraph was left like this for many, many years.

Eventually, humans began to see seraphim again. They began to live side-by-side. The seraph watched this from their forest house, with their silly log bath that they’d kept preserved all these years. The seraph was bitter for a while; angry, even. How dare they sort things out now, centuries too late?

The seraph was angry for years, with their house and their log bath. The seraph remembered their human so well, even after all this time. They remembered his voice, his face, his laughter. There was no one else to do so. There was no one left to remember him.

The human had always wanted to have an inn of his own, to host guests (which they could never have, without endangering the seraph) and hear stories from across the globe (which they could never explore, without endangering the seraph). The human had died without seeing this dream fulfilled. Even through the seraph’s anger, they remembered this, too well.

It was not a quick process. Lithia was known as being standoffish, even among the few other seraphim that had settled around their forest territory. It took years, and many meetings and partings. The young human attacked by forest beasts, who left offerings for Lithia for the rest of his life after they – in a sudden fit that even they could not explain – saved him, healed his wounds, and sent him on his way after his recovery. The travelling earth seraph with their team of human workers, who fixed up Lithia’s home after an earthquake finally brought down one of the ancient walls that could no longer be patched. The fire seraph, wandering through the woods, with the light in their eyes extinguished after losing their human family to disease.

It was not a quick process. But by and by, Lithia’s anger subsided, and eventually, they opened this inn.

“The two of you enjoy a rare gift,” Lithia stated. “It is not common for the love between a human and a seraph to end happily. I ask only that you treasure the opportunity you have been given.”

Mikleo’s hand had already found Sorey’s. Sorey’s hand squeezed back.

“Of course,” Sorey said quietly.

“And,” Lithia added. “Please refrain from having relations in the log.”

Mikleo and Sorey simply stared, wordless. Lithia tilted their head.

“Um,” Sorey said eventually. “I don’t think. That’ll. Be a problem.”

Lithia made a small noise. “Oh. I was not aware that the former Shepherd suffered such an affliction. I can brew a medicinal tea, should he wish to have the urge fall upon him.”

“We’re good! We’re good!” Sorey hastily clarified. “Um, it’s no problem, we promise. Thank you so much for opening your home to us, and letting us use something so dear to you…”

Lithia gave a small nod. “I only allow guests in this suite that I have personally approved. Ones that I personally judge worthy of it. The rest…”

Through the night air, there came the distinct sound of a vine whip against bare ass skin, and then Zaveid’s pained howling.

“The rest can bathe outside,” Lithia finished curtly. “Please, guests, enjoy your stay. I must take my leave to ensure no blood has entered the waters, lest I add the cleaning tab to your companion’s bill.”

“I think you should probably do it regardless,” Mikleo mumbled wearily. “Lords only know where Zaveid’s been.”

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

02. Don’t Trust Adults

Currently, I’m thinking that I want to write these as standalone pieces, even though, I’m keeping with the same AU Grace and Simon story. Takes place in the instance that they never got on the train, but crossed paths and became friends. But, for the sake of anyone who wants to view it as a series, I’ll number them. 3125 words TW: child neglect, abuse, mentions of child death

Previous 

She was 12. The past couple of years had been easier than all 10 preceding them, but she wasn’t quite aware enough to credit that to her friendship with Simon Laurent. To be perfectly honest, she was a very self centered child and that didn’t magically change when she found herself a friend at the age of 10. In fact, Simon’s attention made her a little more sure of herself. She had been working off of the idea that she was never good enough, even though she found it hard to find flaws in herself. 

She would look into the mirror and think, “She’s beautiful. She’s a goddess. how are people not seeing that??” She would look at the world and see flowing blond hair, fair skin, rosy cheeks and this was the height of all beauty. This was the height of all acceptance. It was meh, for her. She would look in the mirror. THIS is the height of all beauty. She kept a mirror on her at all times and in instances where she might be challenged or criticized, she would take a look at herself and remember. They’re just jealous. Look at you, and look at them. She would quickly get over any rudeness, alienation, or discrimination, because those people just wanted to be her, and you weren’t going to convince her of any other alternative.

Then, came along Simon. He was appealing in this "looks aren't his main concern, but he's got a few nice features" sort of way, and he always seemed to need to have his hands doing something.

The first time she saw him, when they were 10, she spent several minutes weighing out what she was seeing in front of her. A boy, her age or in her age range, a nerd? He had a backpack with a bunch of patches and pins on it - stuff that she wasn’t too familiar with, but TV and stuff would indicate were nerdy things. She had never met a real nerd, that she could remember, so that part was debatable. He wasn’t very wealthy. That was evident from the state of his pants that were ripped at one of the knees and clearly not in a fashionable way - he’d simply worn them out, and also his shoes... which WEREN’T shoes... they were sandals... and he had socks on with them... so... he had no fashion sense, EITHER, and apparently neither did whatever adult was responsible for him. If there WAS an adult responsible for him. 

It was nighttime. Her instructor had gone for a little while to finish up some things before the shops closed at 7 or 8, so it was nighttime, and this kid her age was running into this building from a gang of bullies, by himself, in the condition that he was in. There probably wasn’t an adult that cared, or realized... (in that case, probably didn’t care) because if you cared, you’d realized that your kid was a complete mess. 

And this kid was a complete mess. 

But... he seemed innocent, and he seemed nice. Grace may have been self centered, but she knew that nice kids weren’t easy to come across. After she sent the kid on his way, she thought that was that.

Whenever he came back the next night, she was convinced: This is a street kid. There are no parents. There are no adults. That must be really fun and cool! She demanded that her driver bring him home, and whenever the car stopped, she began to get out, too.

Simon seemed nervous to have her getting out of the car at his house, but what was he going to do? Argue with her? She’d just given him a ride home. He KNEW he should have gotten her to drop him off a few blocks away and pretended to go into some other house! “You don’t have to get out,” he said, anxiously. 

“Are you kidding? I have to see the adults that let you stay out past dark by yourself, and walk out of the house like that.” She circled a finger up and down his form and he blushed, embarrassed. But also... he couldn’t show his adults to her. They were always in their own spaces and he was always shut out of said spaces. She laughed and mumbled in singsong tone, “Socks and sandals.” He knew he was turning even redder and he was grateful it was dark out, though the moon did offer some light and the rest was provided by the open garage, where his dad was working.

“Dad, this is Grace. She gave me a ride home...” Simon said, shuffling his feet and looking at the ground with his hands pulling his backpack strings. 

The palest man that Grace had ever seen in her life, with blonder than blond hair, and blond flesh - if that was a thing and eyebrows and arm hairs, and just all blond colored features turned to look at her. She stepped back, but stepped on Simon’s toe and leapt forward apologetically, then reflexively extended her hand, “Grace Monroe of the Monroe Square Monroes!” She said. He had on work gloves, which he removed to shake her hand and offered a smile. It was a smile, she was sure of it, but his pale features made it a little hard for her to tell and she also thought it looked sad. 

But, his voice was friendly. He said, “Well, I never thought I’d see the day that a Monroe would be in here...” But he quickly became worried and crossed his arms over his chest, “Simon, what did you do?” He asked.

“I didn’t do anything!” Simon snapped. He had gotten into several fights in the past few weeks (none he’d started) and gotten enraged a few times and “vandalized” some things, so NOW, everybody always suspected that he did something.

“We’re friends!” Grace cheered, clapping her hands together, happy to be able to make such an announcement, whether or not it was true. This situation seemed to need some type of... nice girl talk. 

Mr. Laurent stared at her for a moment and lowered his arms. “Friends?” He didn’t say, “Simon doesn’t have any friends,” but Simon felt like he heard the statement as clearly as if he had. He shrank a little, hoping that Grace couldn’t hear it too. Instead, the man offered a smile and said, “Well, nice to meet you, Grace Monroe. Simon can tell you that I’m working on something and can’t afford too many breaks, but you’re welcome to anything in the house. You kids have fun.”

She looked confused. “I’m going home. It’s almost 10. We were just dropping Simon off because he was out...” But the man didn’t respond, as he put his work gloves back on and got back to his project.

Simon offered, “He’s kinda in the zone.”

“What about your mom?” Grace asked, excitedly. She’d never met a friend’s parents before and it was kinda interesting how different these were than her own! Her parents would NEVER be this chill about her coming home late from an unplanned appointment or event. Her driver was likely checking in with them right now, hopefully saying that there was unexpected traffic.

Simon looked incredibly sad, pulled out a luggage tag, attached to, but tucked into, his backpack of a family portrait and said, “This is her. But, she doesn’t like to be bothered. She’s probably reading or passed out. She’s my mom, but she doesn’t really do mom stuff anymore. Something happened and she’s... She has something where she’s really sad and has to try to get doctors to make her less sad, but it hasn’t worked yet, so she just stays in her room.”

Grace got sad. Uncomfortably so. She tried to change the subject and pointed to a little girl sitting in the photo, “Well, where’s this little cute thing? With a nanny, while your mom is sad-sick?” Simon’s eyebrows pushed closely together and he stared at the photo. He didn’t really talk about this. He didn’t like to, and his parents had stopped trying to speak with him about it too. Anytime it came up, he usually got really angry and scared. He tried to catch his breath, forgetting that Grace was there for a moment, but still wanting to at least hold on to some type of control.

Grace felt bad because of his face and she was worried that he was about to yell at her and tell her to leave. He was making the kind of face that her dad made right before he stripped away every inch of confidence that she had in something that she thought she did right, and he’d let her know that she had not. She stepped back and quickly tried to diffuse it. “Sorry. Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. You’d have told me if you wanted me to know! I’m going to go. You have a good night, Simon.”

He looked up at her, and his face changed. It softened. It warmed up. His eyebrows evened out and a tiny smile fought to cross his lips. She sighed, a little bit relieved that the monster that she thought she’d woken up was gone and there was her new friend again. “You too, Grace,” he said. He tucked the tag into his bag, without looking at it, and went into the house, through a door in the garage. “Good night, Dad.” 

She looked at his super blond dad. He didn’t even seem to hear his son, but whenever she started walking away, the man said, “Good night, Young Lady!” Which... made her feel like maybe he’d purposefully not said it to Simon. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and she choked out another fake cheerful good night for the adult, because it was very rude not to reply to adults and if he was mean to his own son, she didn’t know how mean he might be to her if she insulted him.

After that night, whenever she brought him home, they just dropped him off, saw that he got inside, and left. After the recital, she wasn’t going to be having those practices anymore, though. She’d be back on a schedule at her home. She... wouldn’t see Simon again. 

The other girls went out for ice cream. They didn’t invite Grace. She was really upset about it, but whenever she heard Simon’s voice calling her name and turned to see that he had come out in, not only a complete pair of pants, but also actual shoes, she felt all of the rejection that was encasing itself around her heart just melt. She whispered, “Simon.” He smiled, a little startled and confused about whatever her tone of voice was, but he didn’t pay it too much attention and began to shower her with praise about the show. 

He admitted that he had to case the auditorium and find another way in, because he didn’t have a ticket, but that he had gotten in and had seen her entire performance. “You were the best out there!” he had said. Nobody ever told her that before. And even though it was true, in her mind, whenever Simon said it, it became a little bit more real. She felt validated and vindicated. Just like a game of Simon Says, but Simon is your friend and he knows what’s best... Not trying to make you look silly. She was gleaming... then it stopped. “What’s wrong?” 

“This is the last night that I’m gonna be here,” she said in the saddest voice that he’d ever heard come out of her. “I’m going to be at home tomorrow night and there won’t be another reason for me to be back in the city.” Simon’s face went through an array of emotions. His smile faded, then his mouth turned into a frown, then his lips quivered a bit and his eyes darkened and dampened. She was leaving? She wasn’t going to come back? He wasn’t going to see her again? She was gonna be gone... Just like... He lowered his head and blinked away tears. 

She felt her chest tighten again. “Maybe...” He looked up, hopeful and misty eyed, his face begging her for a solution to this pain she’d just inflicted on him, “Maybe we could find a way to see each other... closer to where I live? It’s far from you, but...” She shook her head, clenching her dress, “No. That’s stupid. And it’s unfair. You don’t have the means to come see me... But my parents will never let me come this far out without good reason...”

“I’ll do it!” Simon declared. “I’ll come to see you, sure.”

She couldn’t bear looking up at him, “How would you do that?”

“I’m...” He thought for a while, trying to even guess what would be possible for this, “Gonna learn the train schedule. I’ll figure out the route closest to you, and then hike the rest of the way there,” he said like it was some type of simple idea. And at 10, it seemed like one to her too. Because she looked up, in just as much excitement and smiled brightly. And that was all that Simon needed as fuel. Yes, he was going to make it work to see her smiling face. “Ummm... I can start learning tomorrow,” he said. 

“Okay, But... Do you wanna go get some ice cream with me before we take you home?” She had her dress clutched firmly in her gloved hands and hoped that he didn’t notice them, because she hated that portion of herself that did that whenever she was scared. Being scared was being lazy, and clutching her clothing to try to get over it was being weak.

“I don’t really have ice cream money,” Simon admitted, blushing in embarrassment. He had gone into his small savings just to get some decent pants and shoes, even though he got them thrift shop... they were outside of his budget. He was gonna buy himself a new figure to compose, but decided that Grace’s recital was more important, because she worked really hard and her parents couldn’t come. 

She laughed and waved a hand, “I’m inviting you, Simon. I’ve got you!” He smiled and nodded his head with a little affirmative grunt. I’ve got you. That mattered a lot to him that night. He wasn’t going to ever let it go, and two years later, he hadn’t.

.

They were 12. Grace was annoyed that she made the mistake of expressing interest in making the music she danced to, because NOW, she had to have hours of music theory, composition, and instrument practice added to her schedule, and that didn’t mean she got a “break” from dance. It only meant that she was fortifying her resume. She didn’t want to fortify her resume. She wanted to maybe watch one of those vids on the Internet, like Simon sometimes did to help him create a dragon out of household items, but like for her to create a really sick mix for her next audition... But, here she was, buried in research and scarce for free time.

Then, she heard her favorite sound in the world! Simon coming up the fire  escape stairs. He was the only person who ever used those, so she knew it was him every time. She put her work away in the drawer of her vanity, which she used as a desk, because she didn’t want a desk in her room, because it might just take up too much space, and she always had a lot of plans for the space in her room.

He climbed into the window and tossed his backpack down. She met him with a hug and asked him about what he was working on. Simon was her nice break from things. He would always be really excited to talk about the stuff that was going on in his life (his stories and models) and he always sprinkled in either something fun and competitive, or accolades for her as a person and her talents. It was perfect. She was able to get all of her praise, ignore all of her responsibilities for a bit, and most importantly, not delve too much into her private and personal matters. If she put the focus on Simon’s feelings and experiences, she didn’t have to share her own.

It wasn’t that she thought that Simon wouldn’t care about her problems, it was that she knew he would. Simon had enough problems without her burdening him with her stuff. 

Like, shortly after they met, his mom bought an emotional support cat, but she neglects it as much as she did him, so it wound up being Simon’s emotional support cat, only the cat is a TOTAL B word, and of all the things to call one... his mom decided on “Samantha.” Why on earth would anybody name a cat Samantha? Then again, the cat was a TOTAL Samantha. She knew she was smart and she was quite selfish and conceited. 

Grace told Simon that all cats are that way, but she only read that somewhere. Samantha was the only cat that she really ever gotten anywhere close to, and not often, because she didn’t go to Simon’s house. But, he always had things to say about her, and made a little comic “Tales of Samantha” that he’d post on the Internet. It had a huge following. Apparently, people who really loved cats also really loved talking a lot of trash about them and seeing them be terrible and funny at the same time.

Simon preferred talking about Samantha, grazing over his dad’s current model obsession, and occasionally venting about his mom. Like, how he stopped trying to make her dinner whenever he’d knocked on the door, as per house rules, and accidentally woke her up, causing her to have such an emotional explosion that his dad heard it from the garage and came inside to try to settle her down. Apparently, at some point in the explosion, she had confessed that it “Should have been” Simon... And he stopped at that point, in retelling the incident, and also in interacting with his mother at all. It wasn’t even that he disagreed with her. He just... Didn’t need to have to face that feeling if he thought that he didn’t HAVE to.

Grace had been exactly what he needed at the time, though. She always was. Her brown eyes were soft on him when he said out loud the most painful things that he ever thought he would have to say. She touched his shoulder, squeezed it and tousled his hair with the other hand, “It shouldn’t have been either of you. I’m sorry that your sister is gone, but I’m super glad that you aren’t. And it’s really unfortunate that it was her, but it shouldn’t have been you, either. And you constantly blaming yourself is bad enough, without additional help from the REAL villains in this tragedy. Who leaves their 10 year old and 4 year old unsupervised? It’s illegal in most states, and in those states where it’s legal, there is a time frame and she was still too young to feature in those. I read it, myself. The real problem with most of our lives is the adults.” Her face turned and she looked elsewhere for a moment, “They’re...”

“Not to be trusted,’ he completed the sentence. She smiled and looked at him again. He got it. Sometimes, it was like he was inside of her mind.

“Exactly.”

“But, they have all of the power. Even being a very independent 12 year old, if I do say so myself; there’s so many things that I can’t do without the approval or permission of one.”

“This world is rigged against us, Man.” 

“Speaking of things we read. I read that at 16, I can emancipate myself.” Simon looked thoughtfully ahead, “And I’m pretty sure that I’m gonna.” She smiled sadly and lowered her head. “You gonna come with?”

She laughed, “If I thought that there was anywhere in this world that my parents couldn’t find me and bring me back (And make me suffer for having the audacity to go), I’d have strapped on my sneaks and got to running a long time ago.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “But, you’ll still come see me, right?”

“I’m gonna leave my parents, Grace. Not you. I’d never leave you.” He wrapped an arm around her and she settled into his side, unaware that she had been so tense a moment before that needed confirmation. “We’re a team,” he whispered. She just smiled. We’re a team.

Next

[starrysamu]

LITERALLY. ENDGAME HAPPENED AND I WAS JUST LIKE....... i have to go. this is toxic to stay with someone who keeps breaking my heart like—

and same! i remember going to the movie theater to watch the first iron man with my uncle and siblings and like 🥺🥺🥺 tony stark being the father figure i’ll never have? yup yup.

YEAH I WASNT INTERESTED IN WANDAVISION AT FIRST..... then i saw a few of the promos and. was like i don’t know what’s going on but i’m intrigued. then when it started everyone was talking about it and i was like HMMMM then i binged it around episode 5 and hnnng. pain honestly. never thought i’d care about wanda or vision like. them being together when the russos were like THEYRE DATING i was like ????? BUT HERE IN THIS SHOW ITS JUST. YES ITS SO OBVIOUS THEY ARE IN LOVE

the finale...... reminded me why i left in the first place because marvel keeps BREAKING MY HEART. still gonna watch falcon and the winter soldier tho

one year anniversary....... truly hate it here LOL but yeah i get that! i finally freed up a bit too which is why i’m hanging around more. i miss writing but my brain has no juices rn so it’s ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ BUT ALSO LOL SAME MY GRADES ARE... okay they’re still not great but better? and i feel much better than always wanting to put out something. i say i haven’t been writing but mostly, i’ve been doing bits and pieces of indulgent personal pieces so 🥺

but nothing much!!!!! i have finals coming up soon and this calm right now is the calm before the storm so,,,, and then spring break but i’m gonna be (hopefully) moving out !!! and back on campus. which also means i need to pick up another,,,, job,,,, but it’s okay because i know it’ll be better for my mental health then being stuck at home with my family...!

but yeah lotsa genshin LOL i just,,,,, the lore is so fun and the boys are so pretty..... and since there’s always something to do everyday and updates every so often it’s the only thing i’m looking forward to before moving out LOL

otherwise i’m glad you’re doing better in your school life!! and you better take care of yourself too!!! ):<

-⭐️ (she’s so long i’m so sorry,,,,,)

RIGHT LIKE ENDGAME WAS LITERALLY END ALL . i was like ok im too weak i can’t do this anymore and omfg i saw this tweet that was like “oh to go to a movie theater and get my heart broken by a marvel movie again” i was seriously like ..... yeah ..... yeah that’s right i know that’s right 

and omg yes!! i didn’t watch it until it was all finished. a bunch of irls were talking about it but just like u i was like i don’t think i care enough about them fr like miss girl he’s literally a computer. he’s a computer. anyways needless to say .... i’ve been convinced otherwise and they did a spectacular job of doing so. i have to cry again 

omfghhfdj i feel that so hard like no obligations no strings no nothing like yess let’s just vibe or whatever idk. ppl r busy anyways. i’m glad ur grades are doing better and taking more time to do some indulgent stuff!! seriously its what u deserve fr like treat ur self !!!!! that’s the 2021 vibe

EW FINALS SO SOON??? mine aren’t for a few months. good luck!!! you will do well i know it and even better moving out!! itll be hard to readjust to but u got it i know you’re ready and prepared for this. just be sure to take it easy on yourself, don’t push urself too much bc its just gna hurt more in the long run ): miss u lots take care AND I HOPE U DO WELL ON UR FINALS!!

[iris-ymir]

...The morning after

Evangeline trotted through the hallway, and turned into the kitchen, pushing open the door to immediately be faced by Iris' lithe and slender back, covered only by a very transparent nightgown.  The woman wasn't wearing much else...skimpy lace lingerie...and was holding a cup of coffee which was slowly releasing steam into the air around her.  Evangeline stopped, frozen in place for the second time this morning, but this time for a very different reason. "I....uhh...s-sorry..." she stammered, flushing immediately.  "I d-didn't know...you were awake...I hope you didn't have too much trouble sleeping..."  She shuffled her feet, trying not to look at the slope of Iris' back, the curve of her hips, the nape of her neck... Eva promptly realized that she was doing exactly that-tracing the lines of Iris' body with her eyes, unable to look away.  Iris was so thin...she looked to be a willow branch, flexible in nature, ready to bend should it need to, but never break.  It was then that Eva saw...one of the things that she found truly attractive about Iris.  She was resilient.  She had been through so much...lost so much...been so thoroughly hurt by the world...but she had not broken.  She would not break.  Evangeline was in awe of it...the power she exuded. She shook her head, attempting to clear it, and tried to speak. “I...um...I-I was about to...make myself some breakfast. C-can I make you something?” She stared at the ground, still flushing, hoping Iris would respond. Iris turned around, hearing Eva’s voice from the doorway. “Oh, Cinnabun! Suprised to see yer still stickin’ around... ’Ow the ‘ell do ya dink someone can sleep in dis frickin’ ruckus, though? Tha annoyin’ clapper of dat roegadyn’s lips would wake up the heckin’ corpses...” Suddenly Iris heard the steps from the stairs. During the years in manor, she had learned to recognize Varg’s way of striding. The old au ra did his best to not draw attention to his bad leg, but if you knew what to listen to, you could hear a very slight limp on his footsteps. After one last swift draw, pale viera tossed what was left of the cigarette into the sink, fanning the air around her with a sleeve of her dressing gown to get rid of the smoke, and hopefully, the smell.

With a relieved sigh, Iris circled her way around the table, and leaned onto the other side of it, her eyes traveling up and down on Eva’s body. An impish smirk played on her lips, as her eyes finally nailed onto woman’s purple pools. “Breakfast, ya say? Seein’ somethin’ appetizing? Hm?” Viera let her dressing gown drop casually off her shoulder, while taking a sip, keeping her eyes on Eva, over the rim of her cup. “...I dun need anythin’, Cinnabun. Its too heckin’ early to get any food stuff down aniway... I’ll just... get done wid dis...”, she tipped her cup towards her companion. “...And den I’ll be off. Gonna see mi Silke... Mi fallen angel should be havin’ a day off, and Im gonna drag dat purdiful nose of ‘ers off tha damn books for a change! I need to get outta ‘ere... I cant stand dat damn roegadyn in mi fockin’ eyes...”

Evangeline listened passively to Iris, crossing her arms and cocking her head to the side as she saw the pale woman trail off, seeming to be listening for something.  Eva paid it no mind, however...her senses weren’t particularly sharp and the sound of the others carrying on was more than enough to drown out anything she might have picked up on.  Iris didn’t look scared, or worried, which was the important part.  Her eyes followed the viera as she moved down from the table, her jaw going slightly slack as Iris dropped her dressing gown.  She knew Iris was playing games...but Evangeline rather liked this one. “Ah..appetizing? Y-yes…” slipped from her mouth without her realizing it.  “I mean-!” She hurridly corrected herself.  “I had thought to look in the pantry…t-to see if there were eggs or anything.”  She chewed on her lip, her eyes still following Iris’ lithe form as she attempted to remove her foot from her mouth for the hundredth time. “I’m not the best cook...but I can get something together…” she mused, trailing off as Iris mentioned ‘Silke.’  Evangeline’s blood ran cold...Iris’ fallen angel? Who could this be…?  It sounded like she was at least a woman...not another gods-damned man...but did there always have to be competition?  After a few seconds of considering, feeling her chest tighten, she knew she had to ask. “Silke? Who’s that?” She intoned, as casually as she could muster. “Who? Mi Silke..?”, an impish smile lingered on Iris’ black-painted lips, as she rolled the shoulder strap around her finger. She had cut the two broken nails short, and painted them red, instead of her usual black. “Silke.. Silke is mi... friend. My muse... Mine... She just... does not quite realize it just yet, but she will be! The skin as pale as a porcelain doll.. ‘er hair long and dark, like the vast sea at midnight.. And dose torquoise eyes! Like a heckin’ lagoon ya could just drown into. Fockin’ dazzlin’ lass. Tha best heckin’ ass from ‘ere to Limsa Lominsa, I tell ya... A goddess among rats, Cinnabun..” Pale viera walked up to her partner, gazing up to those purple pools through her thick lashes. “Ya should come wid mi, sweetie... Hm?”, while talking softly, she ran her fingernails up on Eva’s toned arm, trailing her way up onto her shoulder. “Ya know... I might ‘ave an idea!”, she tiptoed placing a quick kiss on other’s lips, before taking a step back. The scent of the cigarette she just finished still lingered on her breath.. with something else. “Yer gonna take a shower, okai? Yer... in need o’ one. And while at dat, I’ll whip ya sum breakfast, okai? Believe mi or not... Im quuuite ‘andy in tha scullery! Den ya eat yer fill... And wi ‘ead out! Hm? Whuddu-ya sai?” Iris winks, turning around swiftly, and making her way to the stove, and soon the light of flames started to dance on her pale skin. She pulled out another cigarette with her lips, carefully lighting it on the stove, and picked up a large knife. “...So... How do ya wunt yer yello’ eyes, Cinnabun?” The tip of the cigarette jumped up and down merrily, as she spoke. Evangeline bit her lip.  This was exactly what she had feared…’friend’ most certainly seemed to mean ‘competition’ in this context.  Eva had yet to hear the deathly pale Iris complement anyone so flagrantly, nor had she ever expressed any interest in possessing someone.  This would be...a difficult situation.  Evangeline could feel that little monster writhing around in her stomach.  Covered in spines, pricking at her when she least expected it, crawling up her ribs and poking around inside her. Jea-lou-sy.  An emotion that Eva was very much familiar with.  It had cost her her previous relationship...or so she would assume.  Eventually Solenna may come looking for her...but with her new boy occupying her?  She doubted it.  Eva wasn’t worth the effort...not worth the attention.  She felt suddenly as if she were made of molasses, weary even as the little green beast scuttled through her innards.  Was this truly how she should spend her day?  Wouldn’t it be better to let Iris have her time with her ‘friend?’ To not interfere?  Evangeline had said she wouldn’t try and tie Iris down, or cage her...she had made that promise.  She should stand by it, and let the other woman go about her business.  She had almost resolved to gently excuse herself from the situation when...a shiver ran down her spine at Iris’ touch. Ya should come wid mi, sweetie...Hm? Gods...damn...it.  She couldn’t say no to this woman.  Iris’ lips touched hers, bringing heat rushing to her cheeks and her finger to her lips, cementing her fate.  She listened quietly as Iris rattled off her ideas, seemingly in a rather good mood this morning. She was on the verge of responding, telling Iris she preferred her eggs sunny side up, when Arsene drifted into the room, causing Eva to stammer and pause, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly.  Butler squinted eyes quickly observed the surroundings, spotting the two Vieras. Iris' current state of clothing, a knife on one hand, and a lit cigarette between her lips made the old Elezen tilt his head slightly, yet no trace of emotion to one way or another could be read from his face. Arsene strode hastily to one of the windows, slamming it open with one hand. He then proceed to take a pot of hot water, pouring the content into a cup with a string of teabag hanging over the rim. He let out a sigh, slowly turning to face the women once more, observing the situation. "Forgive me, miss Iris, miss Evangelin, for my intrusion," he said, now with a warm smile on his lips, "but you should be aware that you only need to ask, should you require any sort of.. Specialities to your ordinary breakfast, that I could provide you with." “Oh, Im mighty-fine, Gramps!”, Iris placed a pan on dancing flames, while rolling the knife around on her fingers, like a street performer. As the pan was hot, she added a piece of butter and broke three eggs onto it, using her free hand. For a person who looked like cooking plain water was all she could do, she handled the eggs well, managing to break them without getting a single piece of shell onto the pan. While shedding some ashes into the sink, she poked the bubbling eggs with the tip of her knife, wiggling her hips languorously. “...Ohhh fockin’ ‘ell!! Graa-aamps! I need a heckin spatula! I ‘ave.. a situation goin’ on ‘ere! Uhh.. shiteclippers!” Hissing a curse through her teeth, pale viera moved the pan off the flames, while dumping the cigarette onto the edge of the sink. “...Aand.. sum o’ dat ace bacon, if we still ‘ave it? And.. A bun! Yass.. A heckin’ bagel! Goat cheese! For fock’s sake... Evangelin’! Tha frickin’ chicken squirts! How do ya take dem, sweetie?! ‘Cause soon tha only option is damn crispy!” As Iris started to fumble, still trying to flip the eggs with a knife for some reason, Evangeline looked back to her, and barely managed to utter: “Scrambled...thank you, Iris.  I’ll…”  She paused, trying very hard to make the right decision, and proceeding to fail miserably.  “I would...love to join you...it would be nice to meet your friend.”  She gritted her teeth slightly, but didn’t make much of a show of it.  The creature in her stomach clawed away…and something occurred to her.  Perhaps it would calm down if she at least met this ‘Silke.’  Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t...right?  Might as well find out if she had a shot, at least.  At being something.  Feeling like she was something.  She smiled slightly at Iris. “Thank you for making me something, Iris.  I appreciate the effort...could I trouble either of you for directions to a bath or a shower?  I could use a bit of a refresher…” She ran her fingers through her hair, still somewhat slick with sweat.  Definitely not showing off her arms in the process.  Well, maybe a little bit. Arsene kept his eyes peeled at Iris' effort at the knifeplay for a short moment, then gliding next to her, to open the drawer right beside her. He picked up, and rolled the spatula in his fingers, then softly placed it very close to the steaming pan, using his little finger to knock the dumped cigarette bud into the sink with the same motion."Use the poker, young miss, calm the flames.." he said with a velvety tone in his voice. He took a long step leftwards, pulling a thick cloth from on top of a pile of rather large, fresh buns, still steaming slightly. "Feel free to eat as many as you wish, Master Blacksoul has already left.. Add some salt now, young miss." Arsene opened a small shelf-door, revealing a large variety of spices. He picked up a small jar, placing it close to where he had just placed the spatula. Arsene shifted his gaze to Evangelin, his lips turned into a smile. "Of course, miss Evangelin. I shall guide you personally to the bathing rooms, while I go get the meat, and some herbal butter for young miss Iris' bagel.." Arsene looked back to Iris, his eyes gleaming in the flames. Placing the knife onto table, Iris picked up the poker, turning her gaze to Eva. “Eyyyy! Cinnabun! Ya want mi to... calm yer flames?”, she waved the poker at the other, before sticking it into the furnace under the stove. “Talkin’ about dat... Do ya also ‘ave flame flowers growin’ in yer secret garden, or only on top of yer ‘ead? ...Scrambled it is! ...I think dats the only choise wi ‘ave at dis point aniway... Ohhh, for fock’s sake, the heckin’ salt! Thanke, Gramps!!” Viera returned the pan on the stove, adding some salt, before going through the open spice cabinet. After shuffling through the jars for a moment, opening one from here and there, she picks out some pepper mix and paprika compote. Humming a cheerful tone, she reached for the knife, cut a bagel in half, and applied some compote onto it, before toppling it with the scrambled eggs. “Ohhh yissss, dis will be perfect.. Dont ya float in dere for too long, Cinnabun.. Yer meal will get cold, ya know!” Iris glanced towards Eva for one last time with a playful wink, as she made her way to the coffee pot, filling it with fresh water. Evangeline thought to blush at ‘calm your flames’, but was briefly given pause by Iris’ mention of her ‘secret garden…’  It took her a moment to realize what the other woman meant, watching as she cavorted around the kitchen, a nymph, lithe and joyful, bouncing around as if she had cooked for all her life.  Then it occurred to her just exactly what Iris had asked her...and her face immediately turned as red as her hair.  It occurred to her that taking a seat on the spot may not be a bad idea, since she felt as if she were liable to faint at any moment. “I-...j-...don-...you…” She was barely able to form words at this point, she was so thoroughly embarrassed.  This seemed to be the norm around here...given how Arsene had barely reacted.  Eva, it seemed...would need to get used to this.  Twelve, though...it wasn’t even what was said, entirely.  It was the person that said it.  The looks Iris gave.  Her body language...the way she moved was just so...Evangeline couldn’t finish the sentence, even in her own mind.  It flustered her.  Threw her off balance.  Eva buried her face in her hands, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart, to find words...something she could say to save even a small amount of face. “T-twelve...Iris...m-must you ask such personal questions…” she stuttered from behind a wall of her own fingers, pulling herself under control at last.  She grasped at Arsene’s arm, pleading to him. “The bath...please...if you don’t mind.”  As she turned to leave the room, though, something occurred to her.  The words escaped her mouth without her realizing, vocalizing her thoughts before she could stop them. “You should know t-the answer anyways…” She clapped a hand over her mouth, unable to stop the sentence before it burst from between her teeth, a dam collapsing in the face of a raging river.  Blushing furiously, her hand still covering her mouth, she stepped from the room, the entirety of her willpower focused on stopping herself from thoughtlessly fleeing, hoping to all twelve gods that Arsene wouldn't share this with her new potential employer. “Red like tha flames of dat burnin’ church bench!! And twice as sinful...” Iris broke into a flagrant laugh, as the blushing viera was guided out of the kitchen. Her laugh would still echo on the hallway, as the old elezen walked the redhead towards the large bathrooms. As the water in the pot started to boil, Iris added in several spoonfulls of freshly grinded coffee, soon moving the pot off the flames. The delicious scent of fresh coffee filled the kitchen, fading away what was left of the pungent cigarette smoke. A slight, impish smile lingered on viera’s lips, as she poured herself a cup. Everything was going according to the plan. For now at least. Just a couple more pulls and the hook would pierce deep into Eva’s heart. Deep in the maze of webs Iris had so lovingly weaved. Did she actually feel bad for the girl though? Everyone who ever stepped into this cursed building got their life ruined.. their whole being rotting from inside out... This place slowly ate away your soul. Varg’s... her own... the only one seeminly unaffected of the curse was the old Elezen... but maybe the man was more of a servant to the curse, than an actual victim. Taking a sip, Iris disgarded the thought. How was it her problem in the first place? She had never brought Evangeline into this place. The woman had walked here with her own two feet. Blindfolded, like a lamb to the slaughter... It was not Iris’ problem, if the woman was to turn into yet another victim of the Blacksoul manor. Or was it?

A while later, Arsene returned into the kitchen. On one hand he was carrying a slim paper package, from the grease stains on the paper one could imagine the package contained the meat Iris was after, for her breakfast that is. On the other hand he held a fine clay jar, filled with goat cheese mixed with herbs. Without as much as saying a word, Arsene walked through thekitchen, and placed the requested ingredients onto the table next to Iris. The old Elezen took a deep breath through his nose, his eyes closed. The scent of smoke from the firewood, and the steam from the fried eggs had well enough covered the stench of cigarette in the kitchen. Arsene opened his eyes, andmoved his gaze to the open window, then reaching his hand to close it once again. Arsene looked at Iris' direction, a gentle, yet in a way melancholic smile on his lips. Arsene turned around, to softly lean against the table on which he had placed the cheese and meat,still holding his gaze nailed at the Viera. Giving a quick side-glance towards old elezen, Iris threw some meat onto the pan, which soon started to hiss like an elderly snake. The bacon did not take long to finish on the already hot pan. When it had gained some crisp, pale viera poured it on top of the pagel, to make company for scrambled eggs, finishing the whole thing with a huge spoonful of goat cheese. “The heck is takin’ so long..? We should get movin’, for fock’s sake..”, she muttered to herself, giving a glance towards the old clock, standing in the corner of a kitchen. She was sure the clock itself had been here long before Varg arrived to Ishgard... or so it looked like.With a sigh, Iris picked up the plate, rolling fork and knife into a napkin, and was about to head to the bathroom, as her eyes catched the look on Arsene’s face. “Uhhhh... Im... Ya know... Im heckin’ sorry for the mess... Aniway, Im just gonna.. make sure tha damn damsel in distress has not drowned ‘erself into tha tub or anythin’...” She made her way to the doorway, and before stepping into the corridor, she gave one last glance towards the elezen, a slight smile lingering in her black lips. “...Thanks, Granpa.” And with that, Iris disappeared from the doorway, heading towards the bathroom.

[fandom-necromancer]

289. You’re special to me.

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

Gavin wasn’t the most beloved person in the precinct. More a magnet of disdain and hatred, someone to be avoided. That had made the man so interesting in RK900’s eyes. He had been partnered up with him, but maybe he would have chosen him regardless had he been deviant back then. He was still accommodating to the new feeling of freedom and the lack of mission parameters. It had happened only recently; the Detective had played a huge role in it. The decision to safe the man hadn’t really been one and the red walls and warning signs in his mind didn’t stand a chance.

But what came after had him seeing the world with new eyes. He existed for himself, not to fulfil a task, not to be the perfect tool. And that made relationships and human interaction more important than ever. For the time now, he resorted to observing and understanding before trying his own advances with others.

Unfortunately, that made him realise his soldier protocols were still partly active. At least when it came to Gavin, the strong urge to [protect] and to [keep save] sprang into action. Every time when someone talked foul about him, something in him wanted to stand up for the man and defend him. But it didn’t seem to affect Reed. He had to hear it. He had an exceptionally sharp hearing.

‘Heard there is a new case, real gruesome serial killer. Turning their victims into “pieces of art” as they put it.’ ‘Ah damn, that sounds awful.’ ‘Yeah, sounds like a job for Reed. The asshole probably enjoys the stuff.’

RK900 looked up to scan his partner: Still fixed on the report he was writing, still putting up the appearance of focus and relaxation. But his fingers pushed down harder on the keys.

Two days later, the situation repeated itself. ‘There is this guy hunting down the officers that want to arrest him. Already two dead and three injured.’ ‘Shit… Hopefully he won’t get into our area of influence.’ ‘Ah, don’t worry. We could get Reed on the job, the guy doesn’t seem to care whether he dies.’ ‘Hah! And we would elegantly get rid of him.’ At least this time, RK900 could establish eye contact with the two beat cops talking and had them very quickly minding their own business.

The incidents stringed together. A joke on the detective’s expense, unpleasant work loaded onto him when no one else wanted the job or deemed it too dangerous. It was… saddening to say the least. His partner was a competent human being and by far nicer than they made him appear. He couldn’t understand why they talked about him that way and with every overheard word he felt sicker and sicker.

He was sure to explode at the next uttered disrespectful word. Gavin’s passiveness made it even worse. Why was he not doing anything against this? RK900 went over to the breakroom to get another coffee for the human. It was the least he could do for him. As he waited for the liquid to pour into the mug, someone joined him – officer Person. ‘Getting some coffee for Reed?’ ‘Yes’, RK900 answered. ‘He is working very hard lately.’ ‘I don’t get how you could live with the guy.’ ‘What do you mean?’ The coffee was forgotten. This wasn’t about to go down that road, was it? If it did, the man didn’t know what he was about to conjure. ‘Nah, you wouldn’t know it. He’s very tame around you. He was one hell of an asshole! What did you do? Kicked him in the balls when you first seen him?’ RK900 narrowed his eyes and took in a synthetic breath. ‘I showed him the basic means of respect, a quality you all seem to lack around here!’ ‘Woah, calm down, big guy! It’s not like it’s not justified.’ ‘Oh yes?’ RK900 took a step into Person’s space, making use of his added height. ‘Would you be so kind and tell me the reason just how your behaviour can be justified?’

Person had taken a step back and their conversation now shifted from the breakroom to the bullpen. ‘You speak about him as if he was an asset. A tool. Not a person. You shove your unwanted cases his way, you use my partner as a means to keep your own damn list nice and clean. You talked about rather letting him die than be at risk yourselves. I say it again: tell me your reason behind all of this. Because I can’t understand how a human being can be so cruel. What has he done to you to deserve this?’ Officer Person was at a loss of words and so was the whole precinct as it seemed: Everyone was looking at them in shock. Maybe some felt guilty, but RK900 knew they would forget about it again and continue talking about his partner in this manner. ‘So? I’m still awaiting an answer. Or does this mean you just enjoy picking on someone who has no one to stand up for him despite himself?’ Everyone was staring at them, except for Gavin, who had sat hunkering over his desk. ‘It seems to be the later. I would advise you to stop, because I don’t know how I’ll react the next-

Nines, please stop. RK900 halted his speech to read the message popping up in his HUD, immediately looking over to Gavin. Please just stop, it won’t make it any better, trust me. RK900 sighed, shooting the man one last glare, before returning to his desk.

As soon as he had lost the attention of their co-workers, RK900 scooted nearer to Gavin. ‘Why did you tell me to stop?’ ‘Please, not here.’ ‘Gavin, I can’t take it anymore. Don’t you hear how they speak about you? This… this simply isn’t right.’ ‘Let them say what they want. It doesn’t bother me.’ ‘It bothers you! You just accommodated to it. You are not like they describe you. They tell lies about you and make you something you are not. I… I never recognised it as I was still a machine, but now… I want them to stop. It sickens me.’ ‘But it’s not your business, you hear me? It shouldn’t make you uncomfortable. It is me they are talking about. Also, trying to do something about it will only make it worse. Please, promise me, you’ll ignore it? I don’t want them to get any more attention than they already got.’ ‘Fine. I’ll do it for you. But I won’t like it. And I don’t think your strategy is healthy.’ ‘That’s okay. As long as you don’t throw hands again.’ ‘To hear that from you…’ ‘Ah, shut up, tin-can.’

That night before stasis, he thought about what happened. He would respect his partners wishes, but he wouldn’t allow this to continue. And he had a plan how to do this already.

The next day, there was a fresh coffee sitting at the Detectives desk upon his arrival. All his pens had been refilled, there was a cooled sandwich next to the coffee and an umbrella hidden under RK900’s desk. He knew the Detective hated the rain, but was too stubborn to take one with him, expecting the weather to obey his command.

Gavin sat down, eyeing the breakfast first, then RK900 who was quietly working away already. Two could play the game of ignorance. The android refilled the mug three times and once came back with a candy bar, before Gavin had enough. ‘Why the hell are you so excessively nice today, toaster?’ ‘Hmm? Oh, I’m just doing the bare minimum.’ ‘Bullshit. What is going on, tin-can?’ Another sigh. ‘Gavin, in case you didn’t notice, you are special to me. And if I have to accept that everyone in your surrounding is treating you like shit, then I will make sure to balance the equation a little. You deserve happiness just like everyone else and I am very happy to have you as my partner. And you deserve being treated nice for once.’

[starryviolentine]

Color Me Blue (That’s Me Without You): A Pre-Apocalypse Story

Part 1 (here)     Part 2 (here)     Part 3 (here) Part 4 (here)     Part 5 (here)     Part 6 (here)

Part 7/10: Message Sent

Leave it to Little Miss Violet to keep Therissa on her toes by constantly coming up with new and improved ways to embarrass the hell out of her. There she is at her desk, minding her own business and chatting with some of her friends before homeroom when the bell rings. Therissa turns to face the front of the room, ready for another uneventful day to start, but instead of hearing her teacher’s monotonous voice start roll call, the classroom door bursts open and in stumbles some random kid, probably from the middle or elementary school judging by her size, who must have gotten lost on her way to class. Therissa rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Seriously, some of these little twerps are so clueless.

Whatever. That's not her problem. Therissa pulls out a pen, spins it on her fingers a few times, then starts to doodle on the edge of her notebook.

“Yo, Girl,” whispers Nadia from behind her, “isn’t that your roommate?”

Her first instinct is to laugh because there’s no freaking way, but then her eyes widen when she realizes her friend isn’t messing around. Therissa whips her head towards the door and narrows her eyes, trying to get a better look. From her seat in the back corner of the room, it’s hard for her to make out any facial features, but whoever it is has the same light blonde hair and is just as lanky as…

“Oh my god,” Therissa mutters to herself, standing abruptly and storming over to the door. She grabs Violet by the arm and drags her out into the hallway, ignoring her teacher calling after her to get back inside. Once they’re far enough to not be overheard, Therissa frowns down at her unexpected visitor and speaks in an agitated but hushed voice. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Violet breaks free from the teen’s grasp and rubs her sore arm. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“And this really couldn’t have waited until later?” 

“It’s Brody.”

“What happened?” Noticing that her roommate looks somewhat distressed, Therissa starts to feel a tad worried herself. A million different scenarios play through her mind. Knowing Brody, it could be anything. Is she sick? Did she twist her ankle doing ballerina spins too close to the stairs again? Or, god forbid, could she have had another anxiety attack? Therissa hopes it’s not the latter. Brody hasn’t had a big one in such a long time. “You guys aren’t fighting again, are you?”  

Violet shakes her head. “No, no, it’s just... I think there’s something bothering her. She was saying all this weird stuff... and, like, she just seemed really upset.”

“Where is she?”

“Our room. She wouldn’t get out of bed,” says Violet, looking at her shoes. “Um, remember when you did my nails a few days ago?” 

Unsure of where this is going, Therissa raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, why?”

“Well, like, I think she’s sad that she missed out… and now she thinks that she did something wrong, or that you hate her or something.”

Therissa didn’t know what she was expecting, but this is definitely not it. “She seriously said that?”

“Yeah, something like that. She didn’t want me to tell you, but…” Violet trails off, voice full of guilt. “I thought you should know.” 

Biting back a string of curse words, Therissa closes her eyes and takes a slow, deep breath. Dealing with an emotional Brody wasn’t exactly on the list of things she wanted to do today, but she has to fix… whatever this is. She can’t believe this is happening. “Please don’t tell me she cried.”

Violet looks up at her sheepishly. “Kinda sorta.”

“Shit.” Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Therissa takes a moment to process all of this information and figure out what her next step should be. “Okay, look, I’ll go talk to her. You need to get to class. We can’t have both of you missing or they’re gonna think I had something to do with it.”

Therissa only manages to shoo Violet away after reassuring her that, yes, she swears that she’s going to check in with Brody as soon as class is over. The little messenger hesitates for a moment longer, but then she nods and disappears down the stairs to, hopefully, whatever class she’s already supposed to be in. Therissa heads back to her own classroom as well, making sure to look cool and calm when she walks through the door so people don’t bombard her with questions. A few of her classmates stare as she silently returns to her seat, but she ignores them until they eventually lose interest and turn back to the front of the room. 

Class resumes, and although Therissa tends to space out during this teacher’s unnecessarily lengthy, certified-to-put-you-to-sleep lectures to begin with, this morning she’s finding it particularly difficult to pay attention. Her mind starts to wander, so to speak, and she finds herself completely and utterly preoccupied with thoughts about her auburn-haired roommate. Something about what Violet said just isn’t sitting well with her. Therissa’s a typical teenager - that’s how she sees herself, at least - so of course she’s already got a lot on her own plate. There are so many other things that would be a much better use of her time than literally sitting here worrying about Brody. 

And yet, here she is. 

Since when did she care so damn much? 

This isn’t like the time Violet went M.I.A. for a few hours. It’s different. The fact that Brody is apparently upset because of her has left Therissa with a sickish feeling in her gut, kind of like how she feels after a whole day of binging on nothing but greasy junk food. Okay, sure, she and Violet did spend some time together over the long weekend and, yeah, she did do Violet’s nails, but Brody just wasn’t there when it happened. Therissa wasn’t trying to make anyone feel left out. Not once did she think that her other roommate would take it the wrong way. And besides, Brody’s not even allowed to use nail polish. 

Therissa leans her head against her hand and bites her lip in vexation. Maybe that’s the problem. She didn’t think. Knowing how emotional that kid can get sometimes, Therissa should have realized sooner that something like this might upset her. Brody admires her nail polish collection enough to write about it, after all. The teen lets out a sigh, looking up at the clock. She needs to sort this out as soon as possible. There’s a short break between second and third period, so her current plan is to use that time to run back to the dorms and talk to Brody. Her roommate just needs to hang in there for another couple of hours.

But Violet said she cried. 

Call her a huge, lame softie or whatever, but there’s something about her kid roommates crying that Therissa just can’t stand. Before she can have time to talk herself out of it, Therissa leaps up, hastily shoving her things into her backpack, and starts heading for the door. 

“Ms. Lannister, we’re in the middle of class. Where do you think you’re going?” 

As Therissa passes her teacher, she catches a glimpse of the idiotic, dumbfounded look on his face and almost cracks up. “Sorry… not. Family emergency.”

The classroom erupts into a buzz of murmurs and Therissa can hear the teacher calling after her again, but she doesn’t look back. Once outside, she reaches into her back pocket for her phone and slides the keyboard open, muscle memory allowing her fingers to navigate through several menus to her contacts list almost instantly. Therissa scrolls down until she finds the name she’s looking for, then taps enter and types out a quick text. 

hey i need u 2 do me a favor will call u l8r

Therissa lingers for a second after hitting send, watching the tiny, pixelated envelope on the screen disappear into a tiny, pixelated mail box. A window pops up: message sent. That’s all the confirmation she needs. Closing the device and slipping it back into her pocket, Therissa readjusts the position of her backpack strap on her shoulder before setting off towards the dorms. 

Time to set things straight with Brody once and for all.

[bigskydreaming]

So it took interest rates that were like WE OWN UR SOUL NOW U FOOL HAHA TWILL BE OURS FOREVER, but joke’s on them lol like I never use that thing anyway. But I got the personal loan for $10K in the end after like a month of searching but who knew that obsessively raising my credit score for a year by like....occasionally chilling all night in an IHOP rather than use a credit card too much on a room would like....pay off with a credit score that actually is useful to me in a way that means I don’t even care right now that hahaha credit scores are just pointless imaginary numbers that really only exist because capitalism’s a dick?

Look I’m allowed to be a hypocrite for three weeks let me have this, I promise I’ll go back to ranting about people selling their souls for the sake of strings of binary code on a computer screen, like just cuz I wasn’t using mine doesn’t mean other ppl don’t want theirs.

Because oh yeah so I was like gimme the loan plz and they were like ugh fine and I somehow got my credit card companies to raise my limits because I’ve had them for over a year now and I honestly couldn’t even tell you how I convinced them to do that like did I haggle did I beg did I put out, who knows, it’s been a very long and strange and sleep deprived month and that’s on top of a long, strange, sleep-deprives two years. Point is between raising my limits on those two, the loan of DOOM and getting a CareCredit card with the remaining credit left to me or before the latter realized I’d just massively dinged my credit cuz the raised limits and loan hadn’t been reported yet, I came up with the $12400. Like again most of that is in the form of imaginary money that I’ll probably spend years paying out of future paychecks so if anyone wants to go ahead and put The Revolution on the books for like, say October, that would actually really work for me. I’d even be all pumped and full of rest and vigor and extra fightey and like, you know how fightey I usually am to begin with I’m just saying....

So now I am literally just waiting for my loan check to clear in my bank account cuz my doctor doesn’t accept checks. Second it does, probably Monday, I’ll go down to my doctors office, pay the $6200 upfront and finish the insurance paperwork for them to submit the claim for the insurance company’s part of it, and they can officially schedule my surgery, possibly in as little as three weeks??!!

Which is absolutely surreal to me, like after literal years of treading water and setbacks and everything dragging out endlessly and he’ll even just yesterday, it’s utterly bizarre finishing my stuff at my bank and doctor’s this morning and hearing how matter of fact they all are about how quickly things could happen now and like. Finally be over. Or like, start lol in the sense of holy shit I could actually maybe have an actual life again.

They can’t confirm a date until my first payment is processed, only then does she officially put me on the books at Cedar Sinai when they can get me into an open OR, but it hopefully could be the 20th. She’s already got another surgery scheduled for that day and an OR booked for it with potential slots before and after it but I can’t count on the 20th as a given just yet. Could still be one, two or even three weeks after that before they actually fit me in, so I’m trying not to set my thoughts and hopes too much on that three weeks from now appointment but that’s easier said than done. LOL.

But whenever it’s actually set for, I go in the day of, pay the second half of the payment, and the surgery takes a few hours but they send me home the same day. My high school friend from San Diego hopefully is going to be able to take enough time off to look out for me while I recover, we’ve been tentatively planning for that for most of a year but couldn’t guarantee anything with her work until we had actual dates which I mean we still don’t technically have. But my jaw will be wired shut for ten days so there’s no way I can manage on my own, esp the way I’ve been getting by day-to-day, and I’ll be on a liquid diet and having to drink everything through a special straw and stuff and completely unable to talk the whole time and oh yeah also apparently in agonizing pain that I’ve been extensively warned could put anything I’ve experienced thus far to shame, so I’m really REALLY looking forward to that part lol. Currently pondering the viability of just knocking myself unconscious every day. We’ll see how it goes.

But after that I go back in ten days later and they unwire my jaw, check that everything looks okay and I’m healing the way I’m supposed to, and I have two weeks of physical therapy and....that’s it. It’s over. I’m just. I’m just leaving that right there for now because I honestly don’t even know what to do with that thought after all this time, it’s. Like I can’t quite wrap my head around it and even really picture how that works. Idk my brain just fizzes out and it’s like wait, are you sure, that doesn’t sound right.

But like I made them go over it multiple times to make sure I wasn’t missing anything or understanding it wrong or whatever, like my doctor was this combination of kinda amused but also exasperated when I finally stopped asking to go over it all again. LOL look I just really really really needed to be sure there wasn’t something else involved that like I was supposed to already know or have been told by someone else, I don’t know okay? Anyone who’s been following me the last couple years knows that this isn’t how this sort of things go, they’re supposed to get my hopes up and then tell me they have no clue what’s wrong or send me off to someone else or tell me oh yeah you also need another thirty thousand and an MRI and some headgear that’s like made of platinum, but we just thought you already knew that. LOL.

But. I mean. Yeah. That’s it. I checked. A lot. Theoretically though unless there’s some new bizarre development in which case I will most likely detach my spirit from my body and evolve into my ultimate great rage power Digimon form, AreYouFreakingKiddingMeMon, and go like, fight god or the physical embodiment of the universe or whatever like I keep threatening....like, that really is what’s left. And then it’s all over. My jaw should by all accounts be restored to its full functionality from before all this. No more pain, no more eternal headache, no vertigo, blind-outs, no problems eating any particular food or swallowing or 45 degree slope to my lower jaw, none of the shit that’s been my day to day existence for well. Years. LOL.

Yeah. Really don’t know what to do with that yet. I just. Can’t. Haha.

Anyway, as I’ve said before, I literally couldn’t have made it to this point without the support of people here, both emotionally and financially. I hate to ask it because you’ve helped so much already, but I’m definitely going to have to ask for your help a little longer, there’s just no way around it. I am completely wiped and tbh overwhelmed so I’m probably going to try and sleep the rest of the day - I was pretty much up all night, unable to sleep while I waited to hear back on all this.

Then when my head’s fully processing things again and not friztzing our because I’ve forgotten how to process good news, lol, I’ll probably be putting together a post asking for your help paying my insurance premiums one last time, and on Monday or once I get the official set in stone date for my surgery I’ll be doing another, basically begging you guys to help keep me afloat the hopefully no more than three weeks til then.

I really really hate having to do that when I know you all have helped and given so much already, and it’ll literally be nothing more than my basic expenses of motel room and food, I don’t need anything beyond that, but I truly don’t see anyway around it. I exhausted every possible avenue available for me to try with my credit in order to get this loan and raise my limits enough, and I milked every cent I could out of those. There’s just no more money to be pulled out of any of that, it took everything I had to get what I needed for the surgery. And I’m afraid of the very real possibility that if I don’t ask for this help because of pride or because of how much I’ve asked for already, I’ll end up using one of my credit cards to pay for my room and such and end up stuck without enough money at hand to cover the second half payment on my day of surgery and I truly literally can not afford that. I have no idea what will happen with my insurance if I have to reschedule, how long it would take to reschedule, etc.

And the other side of this is there’s really not a whole lot left I can do for work at the moment. I’ve finished off all my existing projects except for one last cover and they already paid for it in advance. I honestly don’t know that I could take on new jobs if it ends up with my surgery on the 20th in just three weeks. Searching for more jobs and clients has become more and more time consuming these past months as is, and the simple truth is I couldn’t in good conscience or in honesty guarantee any new clients that I could finish their job in that time frame. Not with my present state physically and mentally and the uncertainty of my day to day expenses and stress about potential complications hanging over my head and not, truthfully, mixing all that well with my pre-existing mental health conditions lol. And yeah, if I can’t guarantee getting any new projects done in three weeks, I can’t afford to take them on for any potential client’s sake, not to mention the sake of my professional reputation, which I will really need to be, y’know, intact, in order to rebuild my life basically from the ground up, once my previous physicality and quality of life comes back after my surgery and recovery (knock on wood). With at least two or three weeks of recovery after the surgery even assuming it goes well and has no other complications, that’s way too much time to leave clients hanging and not be available to address any needs, concerns, revisions, etc. Especially if they’re not returning clients but brand new ones.

So yeah, as much as I would love to not have to ask for any more help than I already have and have been given, I sincerely just don’t see any alternatives that don’t jeopardize or risk wasting all the help I’ve already been given. You know I am fully aware of just how much that is and what its cost some of you, and I already could never repay you for this, not even in terms of just the money itself, but the fact that I know some of you have given at your own very real expense, sending me money that you really could have used yourself, that wasn’t any kind of surplus. I am already beyond grateful and humbled and overwhelmed how many of you have stepped forward to help me in ways that even though I’m older than many of you, I honestly have no precedent for, in ways and to an extent I’ve never received help or support from family. So I just needed to say that again, because I have not asked for any of this lightly, and I don’t now either. Really, really thank you. I’m not exaggerating or being dramatic or hyperbolic or silly for a change, when I say you guys most likely saved my life. Its simple fact. Hell, I was genuinely hours away from sleeping outside freezing my ass off in December, that first time I posted asking for help and you guys came through for me. So, yeah. I will never ever forget this, and never ever be able to give back as much as I’ve been given these past few months, though I will always do my best to pay it forward.

I’m going to go ahead and leave my paypal link here anyway, though I’ll be making those two additional posts tomorrow and next week, as I said. Aiming to keep them shorter than this, well, shorter than any of my posts, really, as shorter posts really just get more traction and I’ll need that. I can always link to the longer explanations of my situation for those wanting to know more.

Again, thank you all more than I can figure out how to put into words. I’m finally. Fuck. LOL. Sorry, I’m being very umm, sentimental over here but like its your fault I’m overwhelmed lol, like omg you guys, you can’t just throw love and affection and support at a guy with so much childhood traaaaaaaaauma, his brain doesn’t know how to handle it, look, you broke him. Are you happy? You broke his brain machine.

Okay cool, we’re back to inanity and obnoxious humor as an overcompensating self-defense mechanism, whew, everything’s normal, everyone can relax. LOL. Anyway, I’m gonna shut up now and go try and get some rest. Just know that I’m doing so feeling way more....hopeful? Optimistic? Faith-in-humanity-and-goodwill-and-community-ey? Than I have in years.

....the fact that I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now is called probably tells you all you need to know about me, huh? LMFAO God I’m so messed up lol. But whatever. Still alive and kicking. So. Y’know. There’s always that.

https://paypal.me/bigskydreaming?locale.x=en_US

[j-hopeyouwreckme]

No Mercy

Chapter 1: A String Of Losses

➝ Genre: Smut

➝ Pairing: Park Jimin | Reader

{Switch!Jimin} {Switch!Reader} {Boyfriend Jimin} {Teasing} {Masturbation} {Masturbation—Female} {Jimin Being A Lil’ Shit} {Competing Couple} {Short Fic Series} 

➝ Word Count: 4728 | Ch. 1/2

{Read on AO3} ➝ {Here}

➝ Summary: Some couples play Monopoly, others play Chess. However, Jimin and you are not those couples. You prefer to play games with much higher stakes, and the stakes this time? Well, they’re higher than ever before. The rules are simple: The first to cave loses and the winner tops. Simple as that.

“Check mate.” Namjoon smiles, moving his bishop deftly into a position of no return, making you drop your jaw and nearly flip the table in frustration when you realize you lost yet another long winded chess match against the master™. Aside from Namjoon’s near genius IQ, you have to admit that he’s rather cunning and charismatic atop that reliable brain of his. He uses his way with words and means of complimenting you platonically as a means of strategic annihilation. 

You fall back against the chair, huffing in subsequent diffidence that leaves Namjoon reeling. There’s no doubt that Namjoon’s gotten a kick out of your persistent thirst for victory. He wears a blithesome smile thats stretched so far from ear to ear that you worry his face is—or soon will be—permanently stuck that way. “No fair!” You jump out of your seat, pointing at the chess board like it somehow cheated you and now you were left with nothing but a string of losses and a shattered ego. 

Namjoon laughs, throwing his head back before allowing it to rise again as he runs a delicate hand through his silvery locks. “What do you mean no fair? I won.” He points at the marble chess board, eyeing the abundance of pieces he took from you while he still had quite an assortment of soldiers at his beck and call…it seems Chess just isn’t your cup of tea. “The game was practically mine the second you moved your rook out of the main defense line.” He talks lambently with his hands, going on to describe what you could’ve done to avoid such a situation…and another loss. You’ve lost interest though, especially as you spot Hoseok and Jungkook deep in a game of foosball. 

Now there’s a game you can go varsity in. 

“That’s all great Joon, why don’t you teach Taehyung or Yoongi while I go regroup by kicking Kook’s ass at foosball?” He halts his stale monologue about the finery of chess to stare up at you with a puzzled look on his face. He turns to rest his eyes upon the two boys who have their tongues poking at the flesh of their cheeks while they try to decode the contingency of their foretold game. 

Nodding, Namjoon turns back to you, smiling reluctantly. “Fine.” He relinquishes, allowing you the freedom you requested and returning his attention to the chessboard, examining the pieces and placing them back on the appropriate square as you begin to skip away towards the active match inside the large wooden table that shakes every so often due to the animosity in which the two young men play. 

Jungkook scores past Hoseok and takes the game, an exponential lead that—despite his best efforts—Hoseok never would have won. “Think I can have a go?” You ask, standing beside Jungkook who’s still mid victory dance. On a piece of paper, Jin jots down the score silently. 

“Finally! A rookie.” Hoseok grins, assuming you’ve never played foosball and thinks he finally has the advantage over an opponent. 

“Funny, but I’ll have you know I was trained in the most advanced foosball arts.” You lie, trying to get Hoseok to cower into one of the stools beside Jin who’s now staring between the group while he waits to keep track of the next match. 

“Foosball Arts? That’s not a thing.” Jungkook spins one of the metal bars within the table around quickly, rattling the little plastic players within that you can’t help but feel bad for. 

You look away from the spinning bar and instead place your hands on your hips, taking a step towards Jungkook and cocking an eyebrow. “And how would you know?” 

“I made Yoongi look it up once. I wanted to take a class…alas, it did not exist.” He shrugs, making everyone within the vicinity break down in laughter at his sarcastic stupidity. 

Upon recovering, you step to one side of the table, holding two of the handles and taking a competitive stance. “Despite that, wanna play?” Jungkook and the others slowly let the laughter die down before positions are taken and Jin stands to drop the ball into the board. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” He smirks and shifts his eyes quickly from you to the wooden table decorated pristinely like a field. 

The ball is dropped and both opposing sides snap into play. 

At the same time as ball meets wood, Yoongi traipses through the threshold to the lounge; Taehyung and Jimin following close behind, but they’re too caught up in conversation to notice the game taking place upon entering. Namjoon smiles when Yoongi joins him at the chess table; frankly you aren’t sure how long that will last—nevertheless, he seems overjoyed to see his close friend. 

Across the room, Taehyung flamboyantly throws his hands into each word he utters; a laugh of amusement flowing from Jimin upon hearing the end of Taehyung’s unruly story. A yelp of disfavour leaps without notice from your throat as Jungkook scores, and Jimin jumps at the sound of your voice. “That’s three to three. Seems you guys are tied.” Jin announces, making yet another tally mark on the small notepad he has with a flick of his pen.

The game soon resumes and you still remain oblivious to Jimin’s entry with the others. However, he’s anything but oblivious to your presence. Embracing a taciturn air, Jimin abandons Taehyung who doesn’t seem the least bit bothered; portrayed by his blithesome smile upon approaching Yoongi and Namjoon. You spin one of the rows of players hard enough for the ball to fly past Jungkooks defenses and directly into the goal. “Yes!” You bellow, throwing your hands up in the air. Jimin takes advantage and loops his arms around your waist. 

“Nice shot, but I’ve seen better.” He teases, juddering your hips back and forth in his palms gently. 

You spin to wrap your arms around his neck, “Its nice to see you too.” His lips steal yours in a suitably soft smooch that leaves you blushing.

“Ughhhh, gross!” Hoseok groans jokingly, pretending to hurl into Jin’s lap. “Get a room will ya?!” The small group chuckles together before you finally slip from Jimin’s airy grasp. He lingers, admiring your derrière from afar. 

“One more point and I win maknae.” 

Jungkook snorts, “Yeah we’ll see about that; and it's Golden Maknae to you.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself Kook.” Namjoon says from across the room, remaining absolute and focused on his game with Yoongi but somehow still finding time to shrink the Maknae’s ego. 

More laughter; the most heavenly of sounds thrown from each of these boys as if they’re happy to be rid of it. It provides such rapture that you’re not sure you could ever live without the sound. 

Jin drops the ball back onto the chipped playing field, and off the two of you go; spinning the plastic players with all your might. Your hands ache and sting with how tight you squeeze the paddles. You want this win. You need this win. Being competitive runs through your blood faster than that of the oxygen it carries. Currently, you have control of the ball. Getting past Jungkook wont be easy. He’s fast and has the reflexes of a cobra…scoring won’t be any walk in the park. Passing the ball to another row of your players, you slip past your adversary’s last line of defense. But, it’s too late. Jungkook spins his paddle of players and the ball goes flying all the way back, making a home directly in your goal box. “NO! Goddammit!” Hoseok and Jin burst out laughing, Jungkook celebrates with a dance. 

Wiping away a jest induced tear, Jin finally announces the score. “Four to four hot stuff. Seems the maknae might win after-all.” 

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” You growl, keen on winning and rubbing it in Jungkooks smug face.

“I will.” Jimin shrugs, smiling. You and the others divert your stares to your boyfriend who seems for dying today. “I’ll bet that Jungkook wins. If he does…then I get something in return. Fair?” 

“Uh oh, they’re doing it again.” Jungkook whispers towards his two elders who have been onlookers this entire time. 

The three of them turn pale, bets between the two of you have ended in a variety of ways. Multiple involving some of the ensemble getting injured by flying shoes and handbags. Jungkook—poor boy—is the unlucky chap caught in the crossfires this time around…and the pale hue to his usually bright melanin skin tells anyone who dare to look over that something is about to go horribly wrong; or that Jungkook is about to be revisited by his lunch. 

You turn to face Jimin, pulling him by the shirt towards you. “And if I win?” 

He grins, his fairy like blue hair making him appear innocent when he’s anything but. “We’ll decide later. Just do me a favor and lose.”  

“Over my dead body.” 

“That can be arranged.” 

You raise a fist to hit your lover when Jungkook calls out: “Growing old here! I don’t care what the two of you get if you win or I do; but I for one would like to actually find out who owns the bragging rights.” Jin and Hoseok try their damndest to conceal smiles, but fail nonetheless. 

You return to the table, trying with all your might not to let the nervousness you feel sift its way onto your face. Jungkook radiates cocky energy the second you look up to meet his steadfast eyes. “Last point; next scorer takes the game!” Jin announces, sounding exactly like a sports announcer should. “On my count.” He looks to both players. “Ready? Set? Go!” 

With his last dropped word the ball follows and the game resumes, drawing the attention of all occupants of the room. Taehyung has gravitated towards the table, even Namjoon and Yoongi have turned their bodies and heads to watch the making of a foosball champion. Which hopefully, is you. 

Your tongue rests at the corner of your mouth as you watch with sharp eyes: the ball move back and forth between the two teams’ players. “Get out of my way dammit!” You shout, raising a chuckle from your opponent and friends. 

“That kinda defeats the purpose gorgeous.” Jungkook utters, smiling. 

Jungkook has the ball, moving up the field and closer to your goal box. At last second you're able to maneuver the ball from him, moving it back towards his goal. Your attempts are short-lived however; as your opponent uses his quick thinking and rapid reflexes to steal the ball back and move it down towards your side. Sweat trickles down the back of your neck, you’re not sure if you could take another second of the stress. If you time it right, you could hit the ball past Jungkooks defense and into his goal. So, you spin the paddle.

Your heart rings in your ears and you squeeze your eyes shut. You hear the ball land in a goal box. You smile and open your eyes, ready to celebrate. Jungkook cheers, jumps up and down and moves away to do a front flip. “Victory is sweet!” He screams. 

You’re at a loss for words. Your jaw falls slack and a chorus of ‘Ooo’s’ and low grunts erupt through the crowd. “Nice pull through Kook. I was sure you’d lose.” 

Taehyung goes and gives Jungkook a high five, providing you with a solemn look of peace. Then, the cool presence of Jimin comes up behind you. He whispers, “Now…for the next competition.” 

The evening draws to a close when the others depart to find time for themselves. Namjoon and Yoongi first, most likely heading back to their studio’s or rooms back in the dorms to produce or catch up on some much needed beauty sleep. Jin, Hoseok, and Taehyung leave not too long afterward. They said something about going out to eat. Jungkook’s head turned at that but he was looking to Jimin and you to see if you’d be joining them. “We’ll catch up Kook. Tell the other’s we’ll meet you all there.” Jimin’s smile was warmer than a crackling fireplace, and there’s no way Jungkook could say no. He pivots, and follows the others out the door with a smile. 

Jimin waits until he no longer hears footsteps to turn to you and steal your lips for his own. You push him off thanks to his lingering words still swirling through your mind. “So about this competition…” You start, “Care to tell me more?” 

Your lover grins from ear to ear. “So you got a hold of that did you?” 

You nod. “I did. And i’d like to know what you meant by it.”

He sighs, moving his hands down to your hips and holding you there. “I was thinking...we play a game with higher stakes than that of a foosball game.” 

Your curiosity has officially peaked. Park Jimin has these dark eyes that can scoop you up completely with just one glance. Your full attention is on those eyes, and what they’ll do next. “What does the winner get?” 

“Topping rights.” He whispers the words with a gentle smirk plastered to his face. It's clear that this has been an idea of his for quite some time. Like a sleeping panther, he waited for his time to strike. 

You waver, fluttering your eyelashes and glancing about the room. “For how long?” 

Jimin licks his lips, “A week.”

“Hm, Surprising.” You’ve grown cocky, and feel a raging fire of confidence surge through you.

“What is?” Your lover questions, confused by your comment.

“It’s surprising that you’d be willing to give up topping rights for a whole week.”

He starts to laugh, to think you actually believe you’ll beat him. Jimin’s had this game of his planned out for months; and he knows your weaknesses. “I admire your confidence. But I’ll win this one Kitten, you can bet on that.” 

You move forward and kiss him, mumbling a “We’ll see about that.” Between your parting lips. 

Dinner at the restaurant with Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jin was business as usual. The appetite the boys had was big; and the bill was twice that size. Upon arrival of certain meal parts and between meat being cooked, Jimin had conjured a deep and insightful conversation with Taehyung about Korean traditions and origins, a topic Jin soon took over. “Hungry?” Your lover whispers, his hand resting on your thigh. 

“Very; my stomach might eat itself if I don’t get something inside me soon.” 

A silence ensues between you two, but Jimin’s eyes gleam with the promise of an innuendo don’t leave you. He starts to chuckle and you soon register the words that escaped you. “I can put something inside—” 

You dig your nails into his hand that you’ve been holding. 

Jimin flinches, wincing in pain before reaching for your wrist with his free hand. He squeezes until you let up and whisper, “Nice try.” 

Jimin smiles and looks up to Hoseok, “Hyung, we have a hangry lady over here…mind saving me from a mauling?” He asks, teasing you gently with the use of the word hangry. Doing so all while all while desperately trying to evert his train of thought from attempting to seduce you. 

Hoseok proceeds to cut open different chunks of meat, checking each one for imperfections and rawness. “These few are done.” He announces, pointing to a select couple of chunks that make your mouth water.

Both Taehyung and Jin stop their conversing at the announcement of fully cooked meat. “Ladies first.” Hoseok hastily lets the words slip past his lips, gulping back a mouth of saliva. 

Your own lips part to answer him as you hold out your plate. It’s then that Jimin’s hand moves towards an area of you that is usually reserved for touching within the confines of your bedroom. “ThANK you Hobi.” Jimin’s hand brushes over your panties, up and down tracing slow needy movements that causes your tone to fluctuate.  

Hoseok doesn’t seem to take your tone fluctuation as anything out of the ordinary. If anything, he thinks you’re playing. “You’RE WELcome!” He jokes, copying your tone. 

You quickly take back your plate, dropping it onto the table and allowing it to land safely with a clack. Jimin resumes a conversation with Jungkook to cover his own ass. His hand and fingers remain doing the job they set out to do: torture you and win this little competition as fast as possible. 

Jin laughs loudly, slapping Hoseok on the back. The mixture of sounds breaks you away from and out of the haze Jimin’s fingers put—more like forces—you into. Underneath the table, your hand pushed Jimins away even though the feeling of ecstasy he feeds you leaves you in a state of ravenous hunger unrelated to the cooling meat on the plate ahead of you. If he thinks he’s going to win topping rights so easily…then he’s wrong. It’s the first night, and you plan to last much longer than that.

Jimin withdrawals, as the rules state. If he were to press on, he’d lose. And if you were to accept his come on…you would have to accept defeat.

Dammit. This competition is proving to be quite the futile feat. Hopefully…you’re strong enough to make it through without allowing a finger to slip into you. 

Two. Weeks.

Two damn weeks! 

Two weeks of nothing more than casual kisses and hand holds. It has been fourteen days since Jimin and you decided that this competition would be fun. And it has been sixteen days since you two last slept together.

Raw, passionate, heart rattling sex. 

You have never missed it so much before. Its one thing to not have a vessel that can bring you both pleasure and love, but it’s a whole other to be tied to one and neither of you can do jack about it all thanks to a petty agreement. 

“Is masturbating cheating?” You blurt mid movie viewing on the couch with Jimin who’s munching on popcorn and obviously absorbed into the plot line of the film.

“What?” He chokes, coughing up a kernel that he catches before it can pass his lips. 

“Because touching myself sounds so good right now. Like, Chicago deep dish pizza good.” 

Jimin chuckles, taking another handful of popcorn and shoving it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before commenting. “Seems like someones tapping out.”

You raise your eyebrows and shift uncomfortably away from him, “I never said I was tapping out!” You swallow and clear your throat, “I merely asked if masturbating was cheating!”

Jimin hums, thinking calmly. “Hm…no. No it’s not.” 

You cross your arms, “You’re only saying that because you’ve jizzed four times this week already.” 

Jimins arm escapes from behind you, the movie that before had his attention absorbed, now completely labeled as nothing more than white noise. “What? No I—”

“Chim, I’m not blind. I know you don’t have a cold and the crumpled up tissues in the bathroom garbage were definitely not there when I left for groceries around noon.” 

“Oh please, you’re telling me you haven’t touched yourself once for two weeks?” 

“Three.” You correct, growing antsy. 

Jimin gulps as he stares at you, looking serious but soon his soft features melt to show a laugh.

“What’s so damn funny?!” You yell, sitting up straighter. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t think of the loophole sooner!” 

You pick up a pillow and wack him with it, he moves the popcorn out of the way; sacrificing his face in lieu of the buttery bowl. “Asshole.” 

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds Kitten. Just say the word.” He wears a smug grin that whispers devilish intent, he wants to cave just as much as you do; but he knows he can’t. Winning is his ultimate goal. 

“In your dreams.” 

“How’d you know?” 

“Ha. Ha. Hilarious.” 

Jimin looks away, picking his popcorn back up and continuing to eat. “Fine then, thats your call. Suffer alone.”

“I won’t suffer.” You stand, turning towards your boyfriend before leaving the room, “I don’t need you to cum. Enjoy the movie Jimin.” You call, catching your boyfriend mid mouthful as he turns to watch you go.

“What? Where are you going?! Rachel is about to stand up to Eleanor at the wedding! I’m betting—and hoping—that she slaps that woman! Do you think she actually farts channel N.5?” He mumbles the last part to himself, but eventually pauses the film to chase after you, wherever you ran off to. 

Jimin moves swiftly down the hall with a couple last pieces of popcorn in his hand. He couldn’t possibly enjoy the movie without you. Besides, you were keeping him warm and now he’s caught a chill thanks to your absence. “Babe, I’ll get fat if you let me eat all this popcorn alone. Please come watch with me. I’m sorry I laughed.” He giggles to himself again, remembering the question you asked. “I just figured that you of all people would have taken full advantage of that loop hole. I’m surprised, and impressed!” He compliments.

Your shared bedroom door is ajar, and Jimin approaches it with caution; recalling several pranks involving flour, airhorns, and slime that have taken place in this very threshold. His mouth falls agape when he begins to form your name, the letters averse as they never fully reach maturity. From within the bedroom Jimin can hear stuttering pants and moans, ones so mystifying and familiar. They could only be coming from you. 

Those sweet purrs you let out acting as music to Jimins ears. 

Clearly, his answer to your question imbued in you enough courage to put date night on pause and pleasure yourself in the next room. Your behavior was insufferable, but oh so resolute. The intricacy of your movements had Jimins own hand palming his length through his jeans. The rules to this competition state that touching each other is forbidden and therefore no possibility. But, no where does it state that voyeurism is unwelcome.

Within the room, on the edge of the bed your lips incrementally part; the space between them unceremoniously filled with your tongue that pokes at the opening. Jimins hand squeezes tighter around his length with each pump over his length. The very sight of you so exposed and lust driven is indisputably the most beautiful you’ve ever appeared. Coveted, Jimin moans quietly as your finger is joined by another, your free hand working on other erogenous zones to provide a more fluid pleasure. Jimin dubiously sidles closer to the opening in the door, seeking fortuitous noises from you to further fuel his movements. “Jimin…right there.” You coo, imagining that it was your lover who was moving within you in lieu of your two digits. 

Thats all Jimin needed.

As painful as it is to complete, Jimin zips his jeans. He tucks his length against his stomach, held in place by his belt. Assuming position, he allows his foot to push the door open gently. However, the push is strong enough to reveal him standing in the doorway. “Right where baby?”

“Come to torture yourself?” You grin, curling your fingers deep inside you. Their motion is slow but rough. The very feeling has your eyes rolling back in your head. 

“Of course not. I find great joy in watching you fall apart under your own hands. The very sight will hold me over for another week. Maybe two, if I use my time wisely. So thanks Kitten.” Jimin winks, and reaches for the door. “Have fun.” He coos before walking out and closing it over.

“Fuck you Park Jimin!” You yell, realizing just now that despite the view, you may have actually helped your boyfriend win.

Attempt One: Failure.

“How in the holy mother of hell are you guys still alive?”

“Hobi, people don’t just drop like flies when they haven’t gotten laid for a little while.” Jimin laughs, sipping from a water bottle between choreography sessions. 

“A month Jimin! I’d be worried for my health!” The elder boy fakes a shiver, laughing when he catches wind of the laughable air the situation withholds. 

Jungkook gets up from stretching on the floor, he too is drenched in a thin sheen of sweat. “I thought you were kidding! She’s right there all the time man, how have you been keeping it down?!”

Jimin smacks his lips; “Kook, let me show you something.” He takes Jungkook by the shoulder, throwing his arm over it to control where he walks. He saunters him over to a mirror. “You see this?” He says, pointing at Jungkooks reflection.

“Yes? It’s me.”

Jimin nods, “Correct. I too see a virgin who has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about.”

Jungkook throws Jimin’s arm off of him, blushing profusely and shooting the two older and now laughing boys a burning look of hatred. “I’m not a virgin!” 

“Surrrrrrre; whatever you say Golden Virgin.” Hoseok jibes, sipping from a water bottle with a drenched towel around his neck.

“The Virgin Mary Maknae!” Jimin turns, pointing at Hoseok when he comes up with the second nickname. 

The two hyungs hold hands and begin to chant half-assed nicknames that leave Jungkook stained red. 

After practice, the room had been evacuated; only Jimin left surrounded by mirrors. And of course…his cell phone. He knows you’re probably home right now. Shoulder deep in a month old package of questionable Oreos. Whats wrong with sending one picture? One little picture. Jimin knows that if you reciprocate…he wins. 

Positioning himself in front of one of the many floor length mirrors, Jimin opens his camera and holds up his shirt with his mouth. His joggers hang low enough to reveal his deep v-line and when he flexes each individual abdominal muscle becomes enhanced. “Chew on this baby.” He slurs to you, smirking into the cloth in his mouth. His finger hovers over the send button after the picture is taken. It’s with that same cocky grin that he clicks send. 

You hear the ding from your phone on the coffee table. Jimin was right. You’ve already made a tyrannosaurus like dent in this package of Oreos, and there’s no chance of you stopping in sight. You continue to munch cuddled up on the couch with a fuzzy blanket, picking up your phone with innocence in your doe eyes. His name appears all happy on your screen, so you unlock the device without hesitation.

19:34 Jiminie 🥰💖 | Hi Kitten, just finished practice! Hobi worked Kook and I to the bone today. Look how sweaty he got me!

It’s with slim ambivalent behavior that you click on the photo Jimin has sent. You gulp at the sight. The view is downright blasphemous. The most nefarious part to it being that you just know he meant to send it. Time and time again has Jimin seen the way you look as him after a good workout and just how it affects you. Nothing has changed now. It physically hurts you not to tell him to rush home. Or that you’d love to come and see what he’s practiced today…not that you’d be seeing anything other than his shimmering body moving against yours. 

You need to answer him. He probably knows your gawking—more like drooling into your Oreos—at him. Through gritted teeth, you set out to extinguish his inner incubus by typing up something…normal.

19:37 | Thats great baby! So glad you had a great time! You’re probably famished after all that exercise. What do you want for dinner?

Jimin chuckles to himself upon reading your response. He can imagine what you look like based off of previous knowledge. You’re most likely blushing and biting your lip. It’s all too easy.

Jimin swallows, typing a response thats sure to be incendiary.

19:40 Jiminie 🥰💖|You.

He quickly answers. You hold your phone tightly, blushing and biting your lip in the exact fashion that Jimin imagined. 

19:40 | I think we’re fresh out :( Will pasta suffice?

Jimin sighs. He’s picked a worthy opponent. One that won’t go down without a fight. 

19:44 Jiminie 🥰💖| I guess :/

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Worst of 2019 (So Far)

And now we get to the opposite of yesterday’s post: the worst of what we’ve seen so far. Time to give them a proper thrashing before they (hopefully) fade into obscurity. Disappointingly, there's a general lack of films that were bad but in an interesting way. Mostly, it’s either been the same sorta dreck we usually get with a couple of unusually offensive stories and a couple of soul-crushingly bad superhero flicks. Curious? Read on.

10. Serenity

I like to save my #10 spot on the “Worst of” list for a movie that has a chance of becoming a favorite among those who love bad movies. Serenity is competently enough made that it does not belong in the same category as The Identical or Runaway. It’s another kind of bad movie, the kind that baffles anyone who sees it and who will have film historians scratching their heads in the future. It’s not quite on the same level as 2017’s “The Book of Henry” but close. Top-notch actors at the top of their career in a story so poorly conceived it would’ve been brilliant if it weren’t awful and utterly absurd.

The revelation that everything we've been seeing is actually part of a video game programmed by an angry teen who hates his abusive father, and that his actions are tied to those of Matthew McConaughey's character is the kind of nutty decision someone at some point should've questioned. My advice? Surprise some unsuspecting friends with it. Periodically pause the movie so they can write down how they think it'll all fit together and then watch their faces as they're proved wrong.

9. After

I’m not going to remember After down the line so this is my opportunity to give it another flogging. I can’t believe fan-fictions of real people is a real thing and that one of them was deemed legitimate and popular enough to be turned into a movie. It plays out like the clone of a clone of a clone of Twilight. At least that movie had danger in the form of vampires and werewolves. This has nothing to offer except embarrassing drama and a prepubescent’s idea of what romance and love look like. I saw it in the theater with a friend and thank goodness she was there; it made what would've been a chore... slightly more bearable.

8. Dumbo

I’ve already gone on about how I feel about Disney’s string of live-action remakes. For the most part, they fail to validate their own existences; they’re just copies of the original but with “real” actors dancing around animated backgrounds, objects and locations instead of everything being traditionally animated. Dumbo isn’t like Aladdin and Beauty and the Beast. It does try new things. It diverges from the source material significantly in the worst way. The titular character winds up playing second banana to a bunch of circus performers no one cares about and in the end didn’t contain an inkling of the emotion the 1941 version did.

7. Dark Phoenix

This one’s a triple-whammy. Not only was it a deeply disappointing way for Fox’s X-Men series to end, it retreaded old material in a way that was worse than X-Men 3: The Last Stand AND it was a box office bomb. By the time the story finally comes alive… it’s just about over. The whole thing feels like a mistake, bringing in aliens and asking us to invest in characters we just haven’t had enough time to fall in love with. Makes me wonder what the future of the characters is going to be like. Yes there are a number of heroes and heroines we haven’t yet seen, but are people going to care, even when the brand gets a new coat of paint from Marvel Studios?

6. Men in Black: International

Was anyone asking for the Men in Black series to return? Maybe if they'd had a dynamite story this could’ve overcome the public’s general disinterest, but this was an extremely generic plot you could figure out easily minutes in and lost touch with what endeared us to the first. Even with the combined forces of Tessa Thompson and Chris Hemsworth failed, it to generate many laughs. Worse, to make sure I got any references or Easter egg it might drop, I re-watched all of the previous Men in Black movies, including the horrific Men in Black 2.

5. Replicas

This movie goes about itself in such a convoluted way. First, Keanu Reeves plays a scientist working for a company that wants to transplant the mind of dead soldiers into androids. Then, his family is killed in a car crash, prompting him to use the mind transfer tech to put their memories into new clone bodies of themselves. Problem is, he only has the means to clone three out of four family members. This means he has to erase all memories of his youngest daughter from the others’ brains. Following me so far? Good because it keeps going from there. Actually, that’s just the start of it. It’s a classic case of TMSGO - too much sh*t goin’ on. Even with all that, it STILLL managed to have gaping plot holes. No surprise it came and went as quietly as possible.

4. Hellboy

This one hurt. I wanted to see a superhero horror film badly. The early interviews I read about them wanting to adapt Mike Mignola’s books more closely than the Del Toro films got me excited. I was a little apprehensive when the trailers showed some goofy stuff but I figured these were included to draw people in. I should've listened to that sinking feeling. The actual film is awful, one giant mistake after another. Without a doubt, this featured the year’s worst special effects and even this I could've forgiven but the would-be humorous tone was badly misjudged and the story bloated with way too many elements that might've worked... if we weren't also trying to tell the character's origin at the same time. Hellboy ends with a teaser promising more and there’s no way we would’ve seen a sequel even if this had made money at the box office. Cool demons though, for what it’s worth.

3. Shaft

Looking back, I’m struggling to think of anything worth seeing in Shaft. I hated the film’s approach at comedy, particularly when it reverted Samuel L. Jackson’s John Shaft into the kind of man who proudly doesn’t understand modern sensibilities and spews out one homophobic joke after another. The plot was uninspired and uninteresting - not to mention generic - and none of it felt like it belonged on the big screen. On the upside, it prompted me to view the original trilogy with Richard Roundtree and those were enjoyable.

2. Simmba

Simmba is unlikely to be on the “Worst of 2019” list next January. It probably won’t be at the #2 spot. The film mixes two wildly different tones but not well. It begins as a romantic crime comedy, a dated one, sure. Simmba staging a phoney crime in order for the woman he’s attracted to to call him for help and then use the call as an excuse to stay with her through the night is creepy but I guess it might’ve passed like 20 years ago in North America. What makes this a bad film is the way it then introduces a character’s gang rape and murder as a way to prompt the anti-hero onto a righteous path. From there, it turns into this vigilante revenge film that has disturbing implications. You probably haven’t heard of it before now, much less seen it. I don’t recommend you check it out.

Runner Ups:

Aladdin

A controversial choice, as many casual filmgoers seem to have fallen madly in love with it (similar to the way they ate up 2017’s Beauty and the Beast) but honestly, what does this film do better than 1992’s Aladdin? Add an unmemorable song for Princess Jasmine to sing? Reduce the number of talking animals in order to give us more… nothing? Pile on the CGI to the point you wonder why it was made with live-actors in the first place? Like the innumerable direct-to-video sequels of classic films who've been all but forgotten, I tell you this Arabbian adventure won't endure.

Tolkien

So much potential squandered on a boring story. It didn’t take an astute viewer to recognize the film was crippled by the studio failing to obtain the rights to Tolkien’s actual work. I get the feeling we'll see another shot at a biography of J.R.R. Tolkien in a couple of years and this will be the Christopher Robin to the much superior Goodbye Christopher Robin.

The Hustle

It’s an unfunny comedy, what more is there to say? Rebel Wilson makes yet another bad career choice playing the same character she always plays. I only realized it was a remake of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels while writing my review, which is unfortunate. Hopefully I can expunge this film from my memory soon enough and forget anything it might’ve spoiled about the original Bedtime Story or the 1988 remake.

1. Unplanned

The numerous instances of technical incompetence - mostly coming from the performers who are given lackluster material - would be enough to condemn Unplanned to this list. What made me hate the film is the way it blatantly lies and attempts to manipulate the audience into further entrenching themselves in a certain point of view through cheap, manipulative means. I can respect that genuine passion was poured into the project but the way it goes about it is shameful. Do not go see it, even if you're curious.

Yuck. That last one really left a bad taste in my mouth so I'm going to talk about a movie I did enjoy and am enthusiastic to direct you towards Alita: Battle Angel. Rosa Salazar as the titular Alita impressed me and I really dug the action scenes. I'll also right a wrong from last year by reminding you to find and watch Paddington and Paddington 2, both movies I should've put on my "Best of" lists the years they came out. I don't know what I was thinking but I keep coming back to these in my head. They're excellent for kids and adults.

And with that said, the list is over. Back to our regularly-scheduled film reviews until something big comes up. Thoughts or comments on the list are welcome and I hope you enjoyed reading.