#If any other brazilians have their own takes feel free to share

[lunaiz4-misc]

I think it's super weird how few Americans sleep in hammocks. I'm six years and counting into hammock sleeping, and everyone I tell is always just astonished.

The pros:

Cost. A low end hammock suitable for everyday sleeping will run you about $40. Hardware to hang it up will run you another $10. If you don't want to/can't drill holes in your walls, you need an $80 stand. $120, max.

Comfort. Hammocks have zero pressure points. I mean, actually none. You get a better night's sleep with less pain.

Hygiene. Hammocks are super easy to clean - throw them in the wash, then hang them back up to dry.

Space. When you're done sleeping, easily roll or tie your hammock up out of the way.

The cons:

Cold butt syndrome. The hammock alone won't keep you warm, and your body compresses any blankets you put under you. (The solution is to hang the blanket UNDER the hammock, which is called an under quilt.)

It is really hard to share a hammock. If you want to sleep (or engage in other... uh, activities that typically take place in a bed) with another human, a hammock doesn't work so hot. People will try to sell you "double" hammocks - they are liars. Unless you like sleeping with your partner literally on top of you, anyway.

Knee hyperextension. Because of the way that a hammock curves, it is possible for your knees to bend slightly backwards when you're on your back. Knees were not meant to do this, and it's a very unpleasant thing to wake up to. Hammock sleepers solve this by sleeping with knees bent, or with a pillow under their knees.

It is soooo much easier to set up camp with hammocks, too. No tent, no poles, just two trees, two straps, a ridge line, and four stakes (for your rain fly.) That's literally it. We've made camp in less than fifteen minutes before.

The questions:

Won't you fall out? No. Gathered end hammocks (the type you want for sleeping) wrap you like a cocoon. Unless you can roll UP and over the side of your hammock, you will not fall out.

Isn't that bad for your body? Not as far as I can tell. I did quite a bit of research before committing to this, and everything was neutral to positive. Please feel free to do your own research.

I tried it before and it didn't work, what did I do wrong? Probably a bad hang. You need a gathered-end, Mayan, or Brazilian style hammock (the kind WITHOUT a spreader bar), and you should hang it such that it dips about 35 degrees below horizontal when occupied. You should also try to sleep diagonally - head slightly off to one side, legs to the other - for the flattest sleeping surface.

I'm plus sized, will this work for me? Most hammocks and stands are rated for around 350 pounds. (Some of the camping and backpacking ones are a bit less.) It's possible to find ones that go up to about 450. I know they make them for large animals (bears, gorillas, big cats), but short of that I think 450 is about the max.

[clar-a-m]

I really like your art and style, especially your anatomy sketches. Do you have any tips for beginner artists?

Hi! I’m so happy to know that you like my art and I’m super happy to know that you’re starting your own journey with art! Drawing is something that brings me so much joy and I hope it can do the same to you!

The biggest advice that I can give to you is: HAVE FUN

Draw for yourself, draw what you love, make things that YOU want to make, be as self indulgent as you can be. Doesn’t matter if it seems weird or cringe, forget what other people might say or think about it, just follow your heart! And draw as often as you can!

Doing that sometimes is easier said than done though, so make it easy for you to just pick up a pen and put it to paper whenever. One thing that helps me with that is to have a separate sketchbook, maybe it’s a smaller and cheaper one, that I have by my desk at all times. That way it’s easy for me to pick it up and doodle whenever I feel like it.

Maybe it’s while I watch a YouTube video, maybe it’s while I’m waiting for something, maybe it’s after I saw some cool art that made me want to sketch something. Doesn’t matter, what matters is that I’m moving my hand and sketching something. And you can do the same digitally, you can sketch and doodle a bunch of things and save it in a folder named “August Water Bill” for all I care, if it makes you feel safe to explore without fearing what other people are gonna think than that’s good!

At the beginning you have no idea what you’re doing, so a good thing to do is to copy things that you like! We learn by doing & we learn by copying! You can even get some art that you really like and trace it to practice (of course don’t post that online, but you can learn from it and you can build some muscle memory).

It’s also great to draw things from life as often as you can! People, places, objects, anything that you find interesting. Photos are great and there’s a huge variety of things that you can find online but there’s a lot of value in interpreting the world around you and putting that to paper, you can learn so much from it.

Getting good at art is something that takes a long time and honestly, being a “good artist” can mean multiple things and is up to interpretation, but the time will pass anyways. It’s worth spending that time creating something and falling in love with the process of making things. It will be hard and it will be frustrating at times, but if you keep at it you will inevitably make something that you’re proud of. You’ll make many things that you’re proud of, and you’ll make things that will touch other people in ways that you won’t ever comprehend, so it’s worth all the trouble.

I’ll end this with listing some useful resources. Feel free to send an Ask or DM me anytime if you have follow up questions or specific things that you want to know! I’ll do my best to help!

Draw a box – Great for beginners, introduces the fundamentals, they have a website and a YouTube channel

Proko has a lot of free videos on YouTube

Morpho anatomy books by Michel Lauricella, you can buy them but if you don’t have the means to do so right now it’s not hard to find places to download it

Line of Action, AdorkaStock, Jookpubstok and the Joshua Jacobo YouTube channel are all great for figure drawing, and honestly? Just searching for images of specific sports and activities is also great, there’s lots of great sports photos out there

Of course Pinterest is always there, just careful with AI generated images

These 3 websites are great for finding references of specific angles of the human body, faces and animal’s heads

This is specifically a Brazilian creator, but if you or anyone else reading this speaks Portuguese SulaMoon is great, she’s always sharing resources and answering questions in live streams. She streams on Twitch and posts vods and highlights on YouTube

Similarly, Aaron Blaise is often live streaming EVERYWHERE and answering art questions, he also has lots of courses that often end up on sale for like $1

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

For a "left-leaning, science-based progressive" you sure seem awful fucking concerned about coddling the fascist dipshits who tried overthrowing the democratically elected government for the benefit of a cunt dying in the Minions Room in Orlando

Hey. If you don't mind, I'd like to take your ask as a chance to make some clarifications and explanations to any who'd hear.

In this blog, I try to curate accurate news and sort out information. My own stance is that I'm left-leaning and progressive. However, I want to share views different from mine to a certain extent – as long as they respect basic human rights & dignity and are not mis- or dis-information, because otherwise, I feel I might be depriving people of valid views, which could be valuable for them to form their own opinions. This is not a "both sideism" as treating bolsonarista grifters with the same validity of credible reporters, but of trying to represent as many credible reporters as I can.

And, as much as I understand and mostly defend the Supreme Court and Alexandre de Moraes's actions, it's a fact that there are serious analysts and observers (personally, I no longer count Gl3nn Gr33nwald, who in my opinion wants to apply an US law-based view of free speech that is not what's stated in the Brazilian Constitution) who are raising eyebrows and weary that lines might be crossed. So I think it is fair to post such view. I've also posted others that run in contrast to it, like this piece – Brazil's Social Media Restrictions Are Not Worth A Free Speech Freakout, with which I agree more than this one about which I assume you're talking.

All in all, being literally only one (1) person with thousands of followers, I feel like a have a responsibility and duty to try and not impose my singular, particular, personal points of view to those who have trusted me for information, and to try and be diverse in what I share, within boundaries of factuality and human respect. I try and check out journalistic credibility of every piece I share, one by one, and, one time or another, will post things with which I disagree but think valid. 'Destroying Democracy To Save It?' is one of such instances. It took a while for me to decide whether I should post it, even, because the rioters, for me, must be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law even if treated humanely, which is, as far as I've seen, what appears to be happening.

It doesn't mean, however, that we should give carte blanche for Alexandre to do whatever he wants, because if we do, at some point it could backfire against us.

And you are in your right to disagree with the piece and roast me for posting it. I even understand. But within my own constraints of what I consider valid to be sharing here (factuality & basic human decency), I thought it was worth it. I welcome disagreements nonetheless. Should my mind be changed, I'm open to taking it down and not posting similar stuff in the future.

Hope I made sense and that you have a good day.

-Mod Nise da Silveira

[welcome-to-oslov]

Alright, sorry to be your ask box penpal this week, but I'm just such an Oslov superfan & binge reading so I have too many thoughts to share 😂.

Last ones: I'm Brazilian but have lived in America half my life (15 years). Just got home to visit São Paulo and it's helping me understand Gersha and the other not-evil-but-complicit characters better. As you may know, we have extreme inequality in Brazilian society. São Paulo's an amazing city with tons of upper social class & rich powerful people. However our lifestyle as upper class people is dependent on there being a huge class of poor people locked out of opportunity with no choice but to learn deference and work as low-paid servants. For example, a live-in nanny who cares for children of well-off families like a second mother, while her own children go without mothering far away. Young people from the impoverished northeast brought to the big cities for "opportunity" that are really just exploitative domestic labor.

Many of us know this feels wrong... yet so many of my class hate politicians whose policies haved lifted many out of poverty - and suddenly the price of maids double and poor kids can get into the excellent universities only WE'd been able to attend. This felt like a threat to our very existence. Many of us performatively talk about social justice & how it's wrong that only WE have power & opportunity, but the few of our peers who actually do something about it do feel threatening.

Of course thankfully we don't have this institionalized crazy kettle boy system, and mistreated maids drivers etc can easily quit & find another shitty job no problem. But, those who are really trapped are a mistreated son or daughter children of an upper class family. Every well-off family has someone who holds all the money & power: a father, uncle, or grandfather. As upper class kids we are supported by our families till ~25 because even it's not possible to launch your young adult life without family money; due to social divisions, you can't go out & get a teen/college kid job like in America, your friends all live at home too you can't really go move with them, the best university is going to be in your home city, and even good entry-level grad jobs at corporations don't really start paying enough till you're older since they figure you're paying your dues while your family patriarch supports you. If that patriarch is or was abusing you, you wouldn't have many clear ways out.

So how does a guy or girl in a bad situation get out? You get married young (20, 21, 22, etc.). Once you're married you're considered an adult: your wealthy family buys you two a starter condo, jobs might give you a raise, etc. You can divorce later, but getting that spouse gives you protection & distance & resources. Ofc easier for a girl to take this route, but a guy too could get a rich daddy's girl he knows at their nice school to marry him & insist her father set them up with young married life if his family drags their feet (though generally even an abusive patriarch would play ball here & realize he's been beat, otherwise he looks bad socially). I've seen this scenario play out with a couple of friends.

Which... basically is Tilrey's escape. He realizes he has an opportunity in Gersha & he goes for it, out of desperation to escape, genuine relief at finding someone nice he can live with & be his ally as he breaks free, etc 😢🙏

(Speaking of Tilrey & Brazil, what do you think of my casting suggestion post?! Hahahaha :) I have such a crush, but c'mon, he's gorgeous!)

I'm here for your thoughts any time! And I know very little about Brazil, so that's a fascinating comparison! Especially the parts about family structure and how young upper-class people might need to marry to establish their independence. That reminds me of 18th- and 19th-century Europe, which was a big influence on Oslov because I've read a ton of novels from that period. Extreme inequality was a factor there, too, and patronage was the main way of advancing in society, which increases both corruption and the power of family elders. There are a lot of stories about people (always women) being trafficked and forced into sex work, but then turning that into a source of power because of their sheer beauty. Of course we have widening inequality in the U.S. too, and connections seem more and more important, and many people are resistant to any form of redistribution. So I wonder if we're headed in the same direction, which scares me. Especially since there are tech billionaires who would definitely justify that as "meritocracy."

He is totally gorgeous! :)

[captainbored]

Kind of random, but why don't I see any modern bossa nova songs? Tbh this genre is just perfection :D I met it while listening on the radio this song with an Italian and two Brazilian singers (Vinicius di Morais and I forgot the other one LOL) and ngl it's better than all lo-fis and similar chill/jazzy genres I've ever listened! I just don't get why most songs are from the 60s. You guys need to produce more bossa nova!! >.< i'ts a gem!! Moltissimo bello!!! <3

Well, I might not be the most qualified person to answer this considering I was born 40 years after the peak of Bossa Nova, but I’ll do my best.

Firstly, the reason why the majority of the songs are from the 60s is because the genre (or better yet, sub-genre of Samba) was created in the late 50s. So the more well-known pieces of this genre are from the following decade. The 60s.

And now for the reason why there aren’t new Bossa Nova songs. I’ll separate this into two of the main reasons (My opinion)

1. The military dictatorship. 

During the mid 60s, Brazil, through a coup, stablished a military dictatorship that lasted ‘till the mid 80s (Around 20 years of ✨hell✨). 

During this time, censorship was EXTREME. Artist would be exiled from the country if they critiscized the country through their pieces. Musicians started to add subliminal messages into their songs talking about and critiscizing the dictatorship and “Protest songs” became very popular.

Also, during that time, new art movements were created like the Jovem Guarda, Tropicalismo and the before mentioned “Protest Songs”. In my opinion, with the popularity of these news movements, Bossa Nova was left behind.

2. Changes with time.

With the end of the dictatorship in the mid 80s Rock was a REALLY popular genre in Brazil. And with the popularity of bands like Mamonas Assassinas and Roupa Nova, Bossa Nova became just a genre that shaped the earlier days of our country, before the dictatorship.

Also, just like fashion, music and art changes within the decades. Disco was really popular in the 70s but it’s not popular anymore. The same goes for Bossa Nova. 

New sub-genres of samba have originated since then and are more popular now and appeal to the majority, which is why I find it hard there will ever be a new Bossa Nova wave.

AGAIN! These are all my opinions on the matter as a 2000′s child who didn’t go through any of the events I mentioned in this ask. They are not facts.

[purpleyellow]

Flirty

Seventeen 14th member

Hayun’s masterlist

“Woodz and Hayun have a flirting contest and seventeen isn’t thrilled of how close they are”

Requested by: anon    

a/n: Feel free to share your thoughts with me.💙

The venue was getting less crowded as most artists were done with recording, allowing some seventeen members to leave the packed dressing room for once and go hang around a random couch placed in the hallway.

Hayun sat next to Vernon since they were sharing a bag of jellies while he listened to her talk about some documentary she had found on YouTube. The boy’s attention not totally on her, as he occasionally checked the surroundings and anyone passing by at the time.

“Oh, Hyung” Shouting excitedly, Vernon waves at Woodz who had just shown up. The idol approaches the couch smiling, recognizing the group he had just run into.

Unbothered by the sudden end of their conversation, Hayun also smiles and gives Seungyoun a handshake once he’s at her reach, “Luizy, how are you doing?”

“I’m getting by. You’re looking as gorgeous as ever, did you do something to your hair?” Woodz gestures to his own hair and laughs after Vernon grimaces at his words.

“You know, I was going to offer you some sweets, but I am afraid that you will get any sweeter” Eating another jelly, Hayun returns the compliment, making Vernon shake his head and get up from the couch.

“I’m not staying for this. It was great seeing you, Hyung. Good luck on your stage” He gives Woodz a last handshake and walks away.

“Vernonie, a man of few words” Seungyoun laughs and drops himself on the empty spot next to Hayun. One of his arm rests on the back of the couch behind the girl while the other digs in for a jelly. “So, how are you doing?”

The position they were in, in that situation, meant nothing but a friendly gesture. Taking that both idols had previously bonded over living in the same country, and had a pretty laid back and comforting presence allowing them to do whatever without second intentions. However, someone looking from the outside could easily misinterpret the situation and read their gestures as more intimate than they actually were.

Scoups, Joshua and Seungkwan stand by the wall, watching Woodz take a strand of Hayun’s hair and place it on top of his lips as a fake mustache. As a response, she laughs and punches his chest, making him double over, leaning into her in fake pain.

“Have they always been this close?” Joshua scoffs turning around. Ignoring his question, Seungkwan crosses his arm in annoyance “Should we remind her about Jackson Hyung?”

Seungcheol is about to answer yes to both of them when his eyes catch two staff members looking at the pair a little too long for his liking. Turning back around, the leader and Joshua step forward simultaneously, only to stop as they listen to Woodz’s last sentence.

“Drop by our house anytime, my mom loves making traditional Brazilian food, she’s going to be thrilled to meet you” Freezing because of how quickly the conversation escalated. The two 95 liners looked at each other, shocked at him suddenly inviting Hayun to go to his house and meet his mom.

Having heard enough, Seungkwan bumped shoulders with both of them and rushed to the front of the couch. Not waiting for Hayun to look at him before speaking “Noona, how’s Jackson Hyung doing?”

A little confused by the abrupt questioning, the girl looks up at him and frowns, “Doing good, I guess. He’s pretty busy in China, so we haven’t had much time to talk lately. You already knew that, though”.

“Imagine daring to do long distance. I would go crazy after a week without seeing my partner” Seungyoun smiles at Seungkwan and the youngest nods serious. “I’m sure Jackson Hyung misses her very much”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” Hayun giggles, avoiding eye contact.

“Hey, don’t stress, though. You’re worth every wait” Woodz nudges her waist and steals a smile from the girl.

“Hey, Seungyoun-ya!” Seungcheol steps forward, reaching out a hand for him. Once they meet in a handshake, he pulls the idol up and quickly steps around him, successfully occupying the seat next to Hayun and getting the two of them away from each other.

“That was pretty smooth Hyung, I might have to learn a few things from you” Seungyoun laughs, looking at Joshua who gives him a sour smile and quickly turns his head in the opposite direction. “Hey, I swear I heard someone calling you”

“Yeah, me too. I think your stage might be coming up soon” Seungcheol caught up to what Joshua meant and nodded as Woodz checked the time on his phone.

“Wait, you're right. Thanks for the reminder”. He puts his phone away and gives the two standing boys a side hug “Good luck on your performance later, I’ll see you guys afterwards”.

Waving at Hayun and Scoups, Seungyoun walks away as the girl waves with her fingers and sends him a playful wink.

After the hallway goes quiet, the three members glance annoyed at her. “I swear I’ll lock you up so nobody else talks to you ever again” “Can’t you set stricter boundaries?” “Did you forget you have a boyfriend?”

“We were literally talking” Hayun rolls her eyes and pushes Seungcheol away.

“Sorry but if someone looked and thought you two were dating or something, I’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t be very thrilled” Even though he was pouting, Seungkwan kept his tone sassy and shook his head at her.

“I’m also sure my boyfriend is in a whole different country. And even though he wouldn’t want to see me being too playful with my friends, Jackson trusts me enough to know how far to take things. So yeah, if he wasn’t comfortable with it, I wouldn’t do it.” Getting up from the couch, Hayun looks at them in the eye and points from the oldest to the youngest, “And that would also mean no more cuddle sessions for any of you, would you want that?”

Sulking, Seungcheol looks away and mumbles “That’s quite harsh, isn’t it?”

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

The sound of miniature droplets plummeting against the thin window glass disturbed the fantasy your mind had fabricated to ease your inebriated senses. As the noise gradually increased in volume, you were no longer able to sustain the blissful amnesia that came packaged with the state of dreaming. With your mind slowly registering the reality you sought to escape, a gentle groan vibrated in your throat, prompting your enflamed esophagus to sting. When you sought to lift your heavy eyelids, your lashes, still marked with the mascara from last night, stuck together with invisible glue and dried liner.

The disastrous evening with your new Brazilian friends could easily be traced from the smudged makeup clinging to your pillow, to the sweet liquor that lingered on your lips. There were dozens of physical reminders, and the ache rippling through your temples was simply the cherry on top.

Surely, your actions may have cost you a favourable impression with your potential colleagues, but you could care less about that. There was only one thought – one inquiry, that was plaguing you…

Did he call?

A calculated glance was tossed in the direction of the bedside table where your phone was laid. The unlit screen mocked your increasing heartrate, wrongfully labelling you as a coward. Peering down at the device, you quickly tapped the screen to see if there was a notification from your fiancé.

There wasn’t.

To label your reaction with one descriptor would be to downplay the concoction of emotions currently eating away at your stomach. You did threaten him, so why would he respond? Maybe after hearing the message, he presumed you would be far too angry to speak with him. Or maybe… he just didn’t care. The questions continued to sprout, even as you went to the bathroom to tidy yourself up.

What you despised the most about your current predicament was the insecurity your fiancé’s deceitful behaviour had planted inside you. Questioning his love was foreign to you, but after discovering his supposed relationship with the blonde and the lies that were used to conceal it… the seed of insecurity bloomed into a monstrous weed.

After brushing your teeth, you secured your hair with an elastic, allowing a few strands to remain free, and framing your face. At least now you appeared collected on the outside, even if there was a battle ensuing on the inside.

An elongated sigh parted your lips as you exited the bathroom connected to the guest quarters. What you needed now was a pain killer and maybe a hug.

“Tooru, can you believe this little shit? He didn’t call me … back.” The final word of the sentence was barely audible, as you struggled to comprehend the visual ahead. Sat at the small dining table, accompanying the former captain was no one other than Miya Osamu. The pair appeared to have been engaged in friendly conversation before your arrival. You had never considered them to be friends, and yet in this moment, they appeared to be the closest of comrades, sipping away at their lattes, with gossip keeping them occupied. “Wow. I don’t know which one of you I should fight first.”

“Hi, y/n. You know Miya, right? He’s that guy from Japan, owns that little onigiri shop that everyone is obsessed with.” Oikawa flashed an innocent beam in your direction, his caramel irises twinkling with confidence. The threat that was posed did not elicit a reaction, rather he was satisfied by the relief he instantly saw register on your features when you spotted the cook. Your reaction had confirmed that he was right, and he fully intended on gloating about this later in the group chat.

Beside him, Osamu nervously shifted his gaze from the mug snug against his palms to the one person he was frantic to see. A small smile draped along his lips as his heart thrashed against his ribcage. God. He missed you.

“Oh no. I have never met this guy in my entire life.” Crossing your arms over your chest in a protective stance, you mentally scolded yourself for displaying any signs of happiness. But the sarcastic edge to your retort only brought your best friend to expel a chuckle.

“Oh, well then I guess I should leave you potential lovebirds to get acquainted.” The volleyball player brought the ceramic piece to his lips, finishing the remainder of the drink before lifting his weight from the seat. His job was complete, what happened next would depend on the two of you. “I’ll be back later in the evening. Be good kids.” Before stepping away from the table, Oikawa shot Osamu a quick glance, communicating a silent warning - “good luck, and don’t fuck this up”.

In hindsight, if you were tactical enough to not fall prey to your insecurities, you would have realized what your friends were hiding. The signs were all there – your best friends had never let you down, they were always there, prioritizing your happiness. Guilt hovered over your chest as you watched Oikawa fetch his keys and exist the apartment. The instability of your romantic relationship should not have bled into your friendships.

“Y/n.”

The sound of your name on his lips mimicked a physical blow, it was a reminder of just how much you missed him – how much you loved him… and how much he hurt you.

It appeared that while your attention was on the dramatic exit of your best friend, Osamu had seized the opportunity to approach you. He was now stood fairly close, and the sudden change in proximity surged electricity throughout your nervous system. Naturally, your first impulse was to wrap yourself around him, it was the same impulse that was cursed upon you after you both shared a kiss all those years ago. But the circumstances today rightfully compelled you to restrain yourself.

“Still want to fight me and my stupid face?” He proceeded another cautious step forward; the hesitation in his movement, evidently grounded in his fear of upsetting you.

The teasing remark from the former volleyball player brought your eyelids into a questioning squint. A gentle smile could be traced along his mouth, prompting a sea of butterflies to enter your abdomen. To combat the sensation, you reached out and captured his face with your fingers. But to your dismay, even with his features squished, the younger twin’s face was stupidly adorable. Frustrated with the result, a little growl was given to the male, and when he blinked down at you curiously, the sound morphed into a suffocated squeal.

“Annoying!”

How could you fight him when all you could feel was love? It was pointless.

Releasing his face from your hold, a string of curses were mumbled under your breath as you sauntered past him, before launching yourself onto the couch. Once situated comfortably, a decorated pillow was dragged onto your lap. It served as a distraction from the conversation you were dreading to have.

“You know, I miss you too.” Osamu exhaled the confession, turning himself to face you. He anticipated some hostility, and he certainly deserved it. But his torment laid in the fact he could not console you, knowing that he was the source of your pain.

And little did you know that he too was struggling to fight the same invisible force that always led you back to each other.

“No shit.” Two fingers were pressed against the bridge of your nose as you sought to untangle the web of emotions his presence had created. How were you to react? What were you to say? What was appropriate under the circumstances was ridiculously unclear.

Osamu, who was battling with similar mental inquiries, abandoned his anxieties seconds after hearing your response. Advancing closer to the couch, he crouched down in front of you then began vocalizing the apology that he owed you weeks ago.  

“Y/n, I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry I lied, and that I hid things from you. I wish I could take it all back. I love you so damn much.” Tilting his head just the slightest, he sought to secure your gaze to indicate his sincerity, but you tactically avoided it, continuing to pick at the fuzzy fabric of the pillow.  “I want to fix this. I want to fix us. I don’t care about anything else. I just need you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you.”

The promises spilling from his lips were surely enticing, but what did they mean now? When you could no longer trust them?

“This isn’t something you can just fix. I trusted you, I trusted our love and you… showed me that was a mistake.” The ferocity behind his words compelled you to rip your attention from the decorative piece, and once it landed upon him, your chest constricted uncomfortably. How could loving someone hurt this damn much? “And all of a sudden I’m here stuck with all these worries because you couldn’t be honest with me, ‘Samu. I don’t know how many times you lied to me. Or if there were other girls.” The latter half of your response contained a small crack, demonstrating a level of vulnerability you had instructed yourself to conceal. This wasn’t like you. It wasn’t. “I don’t know if you even really love me. Or if this is just something you got comfortable with, and you’re afraid to let go.”

But you hoped it wasn’t that. Oh, you really did hope it wasn’t the case.

“There weren’t any other girls, y/n. I fucked up and I’ll apologize for the rest of my life if I have to. But you couldn’t be more wrong.” He knew you were hurt, but the consequences of falsehoods had only dawned on him now. It destroyed your confidence in him, and in his love towards you.

His resolve to maintain distance no longer stood as a barrier to claim your hands in his own. Lacing your fingers together with his, he shook his head, hoping to dispel your insecurities. “I could never not love you. I don’t care how many years it’s been. I loved you then, and I love you now. If you will only believe one thing, I need you to believe this. I knew you were my soulmate the day I kissed you in the classroom. I never doubted that since then, y/n. I’m so sorry I hurt you.” The apologies were conveyed in a pleading manner, even if you chose to reject them – he needed you to understand that he meant every word. “If you’re not ready to come back home, it’s okay. I’ll wait. But I won’t give up on us.” Without severing eye-contact, he brought your hands to his lips, applying a few kisses to your knuckles. “I love you, y/n.”

“Shut up.” There was no denying his sincerity, and right now, in your hungover state, you could no longer command yourself to dismiss his apologies. Removing the pillow from your lap, you curled your arms around his torso, transferring your weight from the couch onto him. Osamu quickly adjusted, carefully settling into a seating position on the ground as you hid your face in the crook of his neck. He instantly tightened his grip around you, placing one hand at the back of your head and the other on the small of your back. The warmth emanating from him, served as a remedy to the pain infecting your heart. You knew there was much more to be discussed, as you stated before - there was no easy fix. But his apology was a starting point, and right now, what you needed more than a fight was his love. 

Let’s do it again, shall we - insecurity 

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A/N: I am so sorry this took forever!! 

taglist: @idiot-juice-enthusiast @vicassa @yourstarvic @bringmelily @newfriendjen​  @hikarichannn​ @anime-simp @tsukkismamagucci @laughingismorefun​ @astronomyturtle​ @shegrewupwithoutafather​ @hyskoa1998​ @deephumandragonperson​ @pretty-setter-bois​ @raenebalgaire​ @sugawarabby​ @justanotherfangirl2​ @keijisworld​ @90s-belladonna​ @momoinot​ @sempiternal-amour​ @cherryblosom111​ @yqshirov​ @haikyuufairy​ @volleybloop​ @bloody-bella​ @4fterh0urs​ @seikamuzu​ @namyari​  @toaster-stick​ @coconut-dreamz​ @roseestuosity​ @prcttylittlcthing​ @uzumakioden​ @nerdynstoned​ @kenmasgameboy​ @unstableye​ @ouijaeater15​ @aquariarose​ @fandomtrashpandasposts​ @helloalex80​ @stfucanunot​ @envyusshades​ @cuddlesslut​ @seijohiseliterambles​  @meiikuki​ @cuddlejeongin​ @tchalameme​ @ditu-m9​ @elianetsantana​

Taglist continued in the comments from my personal  ❣️

[fagundescamila]

Power Couple #7 (Severus Snape x Reader)

Heeeeeello again! I'm sorry it took so long again! I promiss I'll try harder to update the story faster 😅

Some reminders: english is not my native language, so expect errors and if you asked to be tagged but weren't, send me a message and I'll try to fix it on the upcoming chapters

Tagzzz: @lizlil @misselsbells06 @mitchiesdungeon @sleepiesapphicxoxo @severuslovebot

As soon as they left the room, Severus' mind started to race and he thought about what he would say and the awkward silence that would inevitably fall upon them while they walked towards the dungeons.

But again, as it always seemed to happen to his impressions about their interactions, he was wrong. 

"It's so weird to talk to all of them without feeling judged or under evaluation…" Y/N commented. 

"Your former teachers, you mean?" He asked, almost relieved by the fact that they had just so easily started a conversation. 

"Yes! They seemed weirdly interested!" 

"It happens whenever they see old students. It was like that with me, when I started teaching here, then with Lupin…"

"What do you mean by 'old', may I ask you?" She asked, pretending to be offended. 

"I didn't mean… After all, I'm..." He turned to her as they reached the corridor that led to the potions' room. 

"I know, Severus! I'm just teasing." Y/N laughed. Snape chuckled and shook his head. 

As they were about to enter the classroom, they heard some hurried steps behind them and, right after that, someone calling for Y/N. Severus recognized Hermione's inquisitive tone without having to turn around. He rolled his eyes in annoyance before facing the girl. 

"Sorry to bother, Y/N! And you too, Professor Snape…" Hermione hesitantly said. Y/N smiled at her and signalized for her to go on and Snape had to fight the urge to roll his eyes again. "But I wanted to ask you something! I was wondering if you had any recommendations on books about Defense Against the Dark Arts." 

"Oh, I see!" Y/N said, impressed by the girl's attitude. "Since you're asking, I assume you covered all the titles recommended for the school year, am I right?" Hermione confirmed with a shy nod. "Okay, so I'm going to make some not-so-obvious recommendations, since it seems you already dominate the basics, is that ok?" Another nod. "I'd say you look for Confronting the Faceless…" At that Severus couldn't help but be impressed. "Quentin's bibliography is also really good, I think you probably have already read some of his books, but it's always a good choice and…I probably shouldn't…"

"Please do! I'd love any recommendation, really!" The girl asked. 

"Alright. This will sound a bit unorthodox, but you're a clever witch!" Y/N stated and Hermione smiled proudly. "I'll recommend that you look for the Dark Arts basic theories and practices. Search for books like Secrets of the Darkest Art, Confringo Spellbok and Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed… That's a fair starting point, I believe." Y/N then looked intensely at the girl that seemed in shock. "Don't get me wrong! I'm only recommending this 'cause I believe in your good intentions and I know that you'll only get to read them if one of your Professors allow it. I know it sounds weird, but I have this theory that in order to fight something, you have to understand it first. Trust me, if you know how a spell works, it's easier to learn a counterspell, if you know the poison, you can make an antidote and so on!"

"I see! You're absolutely right! Thank you so much!" Hermione said, already looking forward to her next study sessions. 

"Anytime!" Y/N smiled. "Just be a little critical with those readings and keep foccused on your actual goal, these books can be very persuasive sometimes…"

"Don't worry, I'll keep that in mind! Thanks again!" She was about to leave, but refrained herself. "Professor Snape, would you… write that permission for me?"

"I'll think about it, Miss Granger." He said with an eyebrow raised, but there was something in his tone that gave her some hope and she left with a smile.

"Did I just put you in an awkward situation?" Y/N asked, her tone and smile already asking for an apology.

"You mean making an insufferable teenager start bothering me about books? As if they didn't annoy me enough?" He asked sarcastically, which made her chuckle. Severus smiled at himself, almost proud of the fact that somehow - he didn't know exactly - he seemed to always make her laugh.

"My bad… But you can always refuse to let her read those books…" She said as they entered the room. "I mean… They are a bit disturbing, but…"

"I know… But I agree with everything you said to her… It's an unusual study approach, but it works. And if there's any student I would ever allow to read those kind of books at a young age, it would be Granger…" He said sitting at his desk to write the permission. "But you never heard me say it." 

"My lips are sealed." She smiled at him, amused by the way he tried to appear cold and distant to his students when he actually cared about them. "So, those essays…" She started, leaning against the table, looking at his writing. 

"Yes, I read them and got quite intrigued by that one with the brazilian herb…" He took a moment to process the fact that she was so nonchalantly standing really close to him. It wasn't exactly intimidating, but he felt his cheeks burning, so he decided not to look at her. "I actually did some experiments of my own…"

"Really?" She sounded impressed, which made him smile a bit and raise his head to see her amused face. "Can I see?"

Severus struggled with himself, debating if he would share his experiments with someone or keep them private, as he always did. He didn't know if he actually trusted the woman in front of him or if he just wanted to impress her, but he was inclined to show her his studies. 

"You don't have to, though." Y/N was quick to say, seeing he wasn't sure about showing his work. "I mean…" But Severus didn't let her finish.

"Come." He said getting up, a smirk on his face as he led her to his private chambers behind the classroom. He held the door open for her and she entered his living room. 

"So this is where a Hogwarts' Professor stays during the school year." She said taking a look around. 

"A potion master, yes." He confirmed. "It was Slughorn's chambers before me." 

"I see! It's nice! I mean… to have a house inside Hogwarts." She trailed off.

"It is, I guess…" He went to the kitchen and signalized for her to follow. With a wave of his hand he made the water in the tea kettle start to boil. "Fancy some tea?"

"Sure!" Y/N said, with a smile. Another wave of his hand and two cups of perfectly brewed tea were ready. "Okay, you gotta be kidding me, right? You're a potion master, so you make better tea than the rest of us, mere mortals, is that so? Are you an amazing cook as well? That's so cliché, Severus…" 

Severus laughed lightly and opened the door to his personal lab, allowing her to enter before him. "I don't know about the cooking…" 

"I don't believe you." She teased. "But that's a topic for some other time, let's see what you've been working on! I just have to remind you that I probably won't understand a single thing about your experiments."

"Now I don't believe you." He teased back and allowed himself a smirk, one that she couldn't see because his lips were hiding behind the cup of tea. Severus approached one of the cauldrons that was covered by a heavy cover. "I began by reproducing the author's recipe, which turned out quite well… The effects of the herb she mentioned really perform as she predicted. The calming draught that resulted is basically as effective as the original one." Snape explained as Y/N stepped closer to take a look at the potion. He observed her features as she seemed to really pay attention and for a moment or two, he forgot to continue. "But then I figured that, since this herb can replace a large number of ingredients, it meant that, there should be a way of making this potion stronger by the use of other supplementing elements." He then took the cover from three smaller cauldrons. "I've been able to manage some minor advances, but there are some ingredients missing in Hogwarts' storage."

"Really? Rare ones?" Y/N asked, still looking intensely at the potions, amazed by his progress. 

"Some of them, yes. But mostly foreing insumes." Severus explained.

"Do you have a list? I could check the Ministry lab and storage and fetch you some of them, if they happen to be available there." She said looking up to face him, Snape raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Severus, the Ministry has more ingredients than we care to use. I'm sure no one will even notice some of them are missing. And even if they do, as head of the department, I'm in charge of the storage." She shrugged. "It's better that you use it than to let everything rot inside the aurors' cabinets."

"In that case, I can make a list and send it over to your office." Severus said. "Thank you."

"Oh, don't thank me!" Y/N tried to suppress a smile. "It's not like it's gonna be free of charges, you know…"

"No?" Somehow, he couldn't take her seriously. 

"Definitely not." She took a sip from her tea. "You didn't think I would simply give you the ingredients, did you?" Y/N had this almost devious smirk playing at her lips as she watched Severus become more and more confused. "I mean, I have to see your list to know the actual price, but I'm guessing that at the very least, you're gonna have to buy me some drinks."

Snape almost choked on his tea. Was she really implying what he thought she was? Sooner that afternoon he was thinking about possible ways to ask her out and gave up on that idea because it seemed completely ridiculous and here she was, making it look like a joke.

"Is that so? That's how the Ministry charges for potions' supplies?" He managed to ask, trying with all his might to sound nonchalant.

"Hey, I don't make the rules…" She feigned innocence. "If you still want those ingredients, send me the list tomorrow and we can discuss the payment later." She shrugged again. "You know better, of course, but I'd say a dinner is a fair price considering you'll get to develop your researches."

"I'm sorry, did you say dinner?" He asked, already playing along. "I thought you said earlier it was just some drinks…" His sarcasm was finally being put to good use against her.

"I believe I said 'at least' some drinks. Who knows? Those ingredients can be really expensive sometimes…"

"Right…" Snape said, trying to keep the serious façade. 

"Anyway… If you still want them, send me an owl with your list and I'll see what I can do." She said finishing her tea.

"I'll think about it…" Now he was just trying not to agree with going out with her right away. 

"Of course you will." She chuckled. "I guess I'll leave you to your thoughts for the night then! It's getting late... Can I use your floo network?" Severus nodded and led the way to his living room. 

"I'll send you the list tomorrow." Severus said as he watched her step into the fireplace. 

"Good!" Y/N smiled at him. "Bye, Severus!" With that, she left his chambers in the green flames brought by the floo powder. 

Severus stared at the empty fireplace for sometime, thinking about the nonsense of everything that happened.

For some reason, he didn't seem capable to stop smiling for the rest of the night.

[needcake]

How long have you been writing? Have you written originals or just fanfiction? In general, how have you felt about your progress / your path in this great hobby? Pd: You are amazing, minha querida 👉❤👈

Gracias, Ika! ;_; <3 <3 You're amazing too!!

I've been writing on and off since I was 14, so that's 17 years.

I have a few ideas, but they still need time (and a lot of work) to mature haha

Sometimes reading some of my old stuff I get a little caught up in the feeling of "oh I'm past my peak and I'll never write anything as good as this", but then I find the joy of writing again and that's the best feeling. I used to be very worried about finding my own style and my own voice, and I compared myself a lot to other authors I liked thinking I'd never be as good or as successful, and I think that robbed me of enjoying myself for a while. I can't say I'm 100% free of self-sabotage, but I try to be kinder to myself nowadays haha and as a consequence I think my writing gets better when I'm having fun.

There’s also the thing about writing in a foreign language. I love writing in (Brazilian) Portuguese, it’s my mother language and it’s the one I’m most comfortable with. I don’t doubt myself half as much, and even though I’m also constantly editing, I’m able to bend the words and change them and create them a lot more freely. I’m also a lot more unorthodox in my use of grammar, and I take a lot more liberties with it.

It ultimately bleeds into my use of English, which I know is heavily influenced by my Portuguese. It’s a fine line to walk, and I’d be caught dead if I ever let it show in any other more professional writing, but I also understand that it’s part of who I am, like speaking with an accent, and I wouldn’t want to erase it completely.

All in all, I think good writing is subjective. Writing, like any type of art, should always touch your heart and make you feel things, good or bad. And as a hobby, writing should make us feel happy and confident. So what if a fic didn’t come out perfectly? I can always go back and try again.

I feel so lucky to be able to share my stories and read everyone else’s, we already have such busy lives that it’s nice to sit down and read something that makes you cry because your two idiots are falling in love again in someone else’s story. What’s not to love? haha

Thank you so much for the ask, love!

[avintagekiss24]

let someone see right through > bucky barnes

|| pairing: Bucky Barnes x black!reader

|| rating: explicit

|| word count: 4446

|| warnings: drinking, implied mention of death, past infidelity, smut, sex, a little bit of angst, oral sex (female receiving)

|| summary: two strangers meet in a bar on their birthday.

|| challenge: @sherrybaby14 prompt challenge - The reader and bucky share a birthday and have some intense birthday sex.

|| challenge: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan star’s follower challenge - Cafune: the act of running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

|| square filled: @buckybarnesbingo B1: Kink- One Night Stand

|| link: ao3

|| note: i did not realize that when i signed up for sherry’s challenge that it would fit some many other things I’m working on, lol. This was inspired by so many things... seb’s endings, beginnings movie, billie eilish’s listen before i go and i love you (stole a line for the title), the prompt itself... so many emotions, lol. hope you guys enjoy.

You move into the packed bar from the street, instantly having to curve your body to slide through a dense group of people. You steadily pick your way to the bar and by the grace of God, find an empty seat next to a well dressed stranger. You smile absentmindedly at him as you plop down, turning your phone over on the bar to block the barrage of incoming text messages and wiggle your fingers towards the bartender.

“Hi darlin’” the man smiles, winking at you, “What can I get ya?”

“Umm, a martini? Dry.”

He nods his head towards you, “You look young.” He smiles again, holding out his fingers.

You roll your eyes as a playful smile curls onto your lips and dig through your clutch, whipping out your ID, “Not that young, I’m sorry to say.”

He glances down at it before handing it back, “Happy birthday. This one’s on the house.”

You smile genuinely, accepting your ID back, “Thank you. That’s sweet.”

You let out a breath as you tuck your ID back in your purse, “I’m sorry,” you hear a voice say, making you snap your head towards it, “I don’t mean to get in your business, but, today’s your birthday?”

The man beside you smiles softly at you as he spins the tall glass of golden liquid between his hands. You can’t help but smile back. He’s handsome. His jaw is strong and covered in a light stubble, his eyes are big and blue; deep set. His hair is short and messy. It looks soft and you’ll be goddamned if you’re not a sucker for a soft haired man. What’s the word again? Fuck, you can practically hear it rolling off of Antonia’s tongue…

You shake your head quickly and cover the side of your face with your hand when you realize you’ve drifted off. You laugh at yourself and nod, “Yes, sorry. Yes, it is my birthday today. Sorry I - it’s been a long day.”

“That’s okay,” he answers, the smile still occupying his face, “It’s my birthday too.”

“No shit?” Your eyes light up as the smile widens on your face.

“No shit. Thirty eight.” He nods slowly, dropping his eyes back to the glass in front of him. 

“No shit!” You exclaim, turning your attention back to the bartender for a brief moment as he slides your martini in front of you, “Me too. I’m thirty eight today too. How funny.”

He turns back to you, a lopsided smirk on his face before he takes a sip of his beer, “You don’t look thirty eight.”

“Do you honestly think I’d admit to being thirty eight if I wasn’t telling God's honest truth?” You laugh, “You don’t look thirty eight either, to be perfectly honest.”

He shrugs as he chuckles and finishes off his beer before waving for another, “Women lie about their age all the time.”

“Yeah,” you agree, sipping your drink, “They do, but just a little tip for you here, they usually age down, not up.”

“Not necessarily,” he says, wagging his finger, “I’ve run into quite a few eighteen year olds that are suddenly twenty seven.”

You close your eyes and scrunch your face as vivid memories of your eighteen year old self rocket to the forefront of your mind, “Not gonna lie,” you laugh, “I used to do that.”

“See!” The friendly stranger smiles, pointing at you quickly before he dissolves into laughter again, “I believe you though, just this one time, I’ll, I’ll believe you.”

“Well, thank you.” You laugh, playing along with his sarcasm. You lift your glass towards him, “Cheers to that, huh? Two thirty somethings believing one another.”

The two of you clink your glasses together and each take a sip, your eyes lingering on one another. You shy away, dropping your head and tucking some of your loose curls behind your ear. You cover your smile with your palm as you rest your elbow against the bar and blink back at him, quite enjoying the fact that you have his attention. His smile grows at you, his eyes move around your face and down your down neck before he breaks the contact to take another taste of his beer. 

Your phone vibrates loudly against the old bar again, causing you to groan loudly. You pick it, your friend Antonia’s face lighting up the screen. 

“Antonia, please.” You say instantly as her thick Brazilian accent pours into your ear, “I’m fine. Yes! I’m fine… because I wanna be alone, okay?... okay, yes, fine… okay, I’ll call you in the morning… I promise!... Yes!... I’m hanging up now… Antonia, Antonia, I’m hanging up.”

You tap the little red button to end the call and roll your eyes, but still laugh a little, “God, she's the worst sometimes!”

“Worried about you?”

“Yes,” you groan, “Like I’m five years old or some shit.” 

He chuckles, still spinning his glass slowly, “May I ask why you’re alone on your birthday?” He asks after a few moments of silence, his voice and tone low and serious. 

“Mmm,” you hum, “By choice really. I just… I don’t know, I just wanted to be by myself today. Enjoy my own company for once, you know?”

He nods slowly, “I hear that.”

You watch him as he fumbles with his glass and picks at the small, white napkin underneath it. Your eyes fall to the leather jacket that covers a black polka dotted button up and then drift back to his profile, “And you?” You ask, “Why are you alone today?”

He pushes his balled fist into his cheek and rests his head against it as he gazes back at you. His eyes search yours, as if he’s wondering if he should really tell you or not. A sadness washes through them and you sit up a little, your lips parting as you inhale, “Sorry, you don’t have to tell me.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” he smiles, his eyes drifting from you, “My twin sister, Rebecca, she um…”

His voice trails off and you grab for his hand, holding it tight as you fight back the sudden emotion in your throat. You shake your head quickly, trying to push the wetness that has invaded your eyes away and let out a breath. You don’t even need to hear the rest to know it’s tragic, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry to hear that.”

Your voice is warm and soft, so soft that you’re not even sure that he heard you over all of the noise. You watch as his eyes fall to your hands, as your thumb slowly strokes the back of his hand, wanting to comfort him. He squeezes back. 

“I just like being alone today.” He whispers as he swallows hard.

“I hear that.”

Your eyes drop to your hands. You watch as he lifts them, the pads of his fingers sliding along yours. He flattens his palm against yours and presses your fingers together, smiling a little as his large hand nearly swallows yours. On any other occasion, this connection would be weird; but for some reason, you’re bonding with this stranger that shares your day - and fast. His sadness matches your own. It’s a connection that you haven’t felt or wanted to feel in a really, really long time.

“I lied,” you say softly, watching as he links your fingers together, “I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me with my best friend last year on my birthday. I walked in on them.” You curl your fingers around his and press your thumb into his palm, “She texted me today, wishing me a happy birthday,” you laugh, “Isn’t that fucked up?”

He nods slowly, “That’s really fucked up.”

“She wanted to get together so we could talk and I just, I panicked. I didn’t want her showing up at my apartment so I just grabbed my jacket and walked here.”

He stares at you intently, his blue eyes piercing into you as you pour your heart out to him, “I’m sorry.”

You shrug and let out a breath through your nose, “It happens, right?”

“It shouldn’t,” he says softly, “Not to people like you.” 

You blink back at him as his words swirl around you. He lets his eyes roam over your face as you stare back at him. That lopsided grin appears on his face again and he releases your hand, only to press his index finger into the tip of your nose, “This is a cute nose.”

You scoff but let the giggles pour from your chest. You down the rest of your martini and ask for another, before rubbing your face with your hands, “What are the odds that two sad ass people would meet up at the same bar on their birthdays?”

“Divine intervention maybe.”

You laugh gently as your second martini is placed in front of you. You don’t pick it up, you just look at it for a second before turning your head back to this gentle man. You find him looking at you - licking his lips slowly, and just looking at you. Your heart starts to beat a little harder; a little faster. Your breath stays easy and gentle but your mind starts to race with thoughts that haven’t crossed it in a long while. 

You reach for your glass and sip it slowly, flicking your eyes up at him over the round rim. You set it down, a soft clink sounding at the delicate glass collides with the wood of the bar. You rest your head against your palm as you lean against the bar, a smile of your own spreading on your lips as you gape at the soft haired, sad thirty eight year old next to you. You grab his hand again and twist your fingers within his, feeling the warmth of his skin against your own. 

He presses his thumb into your palm and rubs it gently, bringing your hand to his face. He puts his lips against the backs of your fingers and closes his eyes as he breathes you in. You lift your free hand and push it to his cheek, rubbing softly, letting the prickle of his short beard tickle your skin. He nuzzles into you and you’ve never wanted to take someone’s sadness away so bad. 

You tilt your head as you sweep your fingers over his chin, stroking gently as he relaxes into the touch of a pure stranger. It starts to click for you, right in that moment, as the two of you bond over the soft touches from one human to another. You never understood how this could happen, how you could meet someone in a bar and want to take them home. To want to ravish them and have them ravish you without knowing a damn thing other than the connection that the two of you built in an instant.

You’re the type to see forever in someone’s eyes - but that’s where you fucked up, isn’t it? Maybe it’s better to see just tonight in someone’s gaze.

“Two sad strangers.” You say softly.

He nods slowly again, “Maybe we were meant to save each other tonight.”

You take a breath, and then another, and another as you tilt your head in the opposite direction, staring at him all the while, “I’m starting to think that too.”

He tilts his head too, to match yours, and licks his lips again before sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, “You like being in love.”

You blink at him and swallow. He doesn’t form it as a question. He states it, like he knows it. Like he can smell it on you that you aren’t that girl - but that you desperately want to be for him. You need to move on - and he knows it. 

“I can love you for tonight if you want me too.” He answers himself, his voice gentle and low. 

You nod before you can really think about it. You stand and grab your phone and clutch from the bar, digging through the small gold purse to throw some cash down. You take one last taste of your drink before you grab his hand again, barely giving him time to pay for his own drinks. 

You push out into the New York night, a brisk, sharp, cold breeze smacking against your body. He throws his arm over your shoulders and pulls you into his body, trying to shield you from the assault. He lets you guide him a few blocks towards your apartment in silence, shoving his hands in his pockets when you come to your building. You hold the door for him and head for the old elevator, waiting as he steps in before you shut the thin, metal scissor gate. 

You push the lever to the number of your floor and with a jolt, the two of you are hoisted up into the building. You stand on one side, he stands on the other, hands shoved in his pockets as he leans against the opposite wall - his eyes on you all the while. You swallow hard as you place your hand to your chest, suddenly flush with heat under his intense gaze. 

He pushes away from the wall as the slow elevator climbs higher into the building. Your breath becomes audible as he moves into your space. He slides his palm along your cheek, slipping the tips of his fingers into the edges of your hair as his thumb sweeps along your bottom lip and chin. Your lips part as your eyes bounce between his. He flattens his thumb on your cheek again and pulls you into him, crashing his lips to yours with force. 

You moan when his tongue slips along the roof of your mouth. He pulls away just long enough to tilt his head before he dives back into you, bringing his other hand to your face to hold you. He pins you against the wall and pushes his knee between the two of yours as he kisses you hard and deep. He pulls away again, but stays away - his mouth hanging open, his breath rough, his cheeks red. 

You stare back at him as his fingers curl around the back of your neck. Your chest heaves as you bite your bottom lip, quick flashes of what was before playing before your eyes. Your boyfriend, the feeling of his hands on your body, his lips on yours - reminding you of him. His laughter rings in your ears, his eyes stare back into yours…

“Are you okay?” 

The words bring you back into the present, back into the elevator. Your ex is gone and you blink back at the man before you. His eyes are wide and wild as his thumbs stroke your cheeks, “Are you okay?” He asks again.

You nod quickly and lean into him, wanting him to help make you forget. You push your mouth against his, moaning again as the old memories fade and the sounds of your mouths bounce off of the walls of the old, rickety elevator. It comes to halt seconds later but neither one of you seem to notice. You push your chest into his as you press your fingers into his lower back, pulling him into you harder, harder, harder. 

His thigh is back between your legs as he nips at your jaw with his teeth, before pushing your head towards the ceiling with his fingers. You squeeze his leather jacket in your hands as you push your hips forward, rubbing your hot sex along his thigh as he nibbles and pecks at your exposed neck. You hiss loudly and let out a groan when he bites down into your flesh softly.

“God-” you breathe as he pulls your lower half into his. 

His hands drift up your sides to find your breasts. He kneads them gently, slowly, as he pushes you harder into the wall, his tongue slipping along your bottom lip before it invades your wet mouth again. His lips move down your neck, along your collarbone, before they press into your cleavage through your shirt. He slides down to his knees, his lips trailing your body, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he goes.

He releases your hips to skim your bare legs with his fingertips, his light touch tickling your deprived skin as they skip along your limbs. He presses a hot kiss to the inside of your knee as you grip his shoulder and push forced, focused breaths out of your mouth. Within the blink of an eye, his face has disappeared underneath your skirt, his lips and nose pressing hard against the bundle of nerves at your center. 

You buck into his face as you hiss, biting down into your bottom lip. He presses the tip of his tongue to your clit, stroking it lightly through your underwear before he nuzzles face first into your heat. He takes a breath, a deep breath, and you shudder at the thought of him wanting your scent to fill him - to intoxicate him. 

You continue to push your hips into his face as his tongue pushes underneath your panties. Your body jerks at the sudden warmth and wetness his tongue provides - the soft friction - as he laps at your slit. You slam your back against the wall and let out a moan as the synapses in your body all start to fire, focusing your energy, electrifying your mind. 

The elevator starts to drop suddenly, and you slam your hand against the emergency stop button, halting it before it descends.

“Fuck,” you breathe heavily, “Sorry,” you call loudly to whoever called for the metal box, “Sorry, we’re- sorry.” 

You continue to mumble as you push on his shoulders, encouraging him to stand and move to the gate. You push it open and move off of it, your suitor close behind. You feel his chest against your back as you fumble with your keys, nearly dropping them when his fingers curve around your hip. You slam your key into the lock and twist it as he tightens his grip, digging the tips of his fingers into your skin. The door pops open and with a push of his hand, it swings and crashes into the wall with a loud thud before it starts to swing back closed. 

He pushes you forward, keeping his hand around your waist as the two of you cross through the threshold. He shuts the door with his foot and spins you around before wrapping his arms around your waist again. You drop your keys, your purse, your phone to the floor as you throw your arms around his neck and allow him to pick you right off of your feet. You press your hands into the side of his face as you kiss him again, smacking your lips against his as you steal his breath.

He holds you up with his sheer strength, your boot clad feet dangling before you wrap them around his waist. Your hands push into his jacket, stripping it from him, pushing it right off of his shoulders. You start pulling at his shirt, untucking it from his tight, black jeans before your fingers begin to pry at the buttons. Within seconds, his shirt is crumpled on this floor with his jacket, his bare, sculpted chest pressed against yours as he lays you down on the floor. 

He leans over you, holding himself up with one hand as the other pulls at your white top. He pulls it over your head, tossing it somewhere behind the two of you before he rucks your loose skirt up your waist. His fingernails scrape at your hips and thighs as he pulls your thong down your legs. You fumble with the button and zipper of his jeans, yanking it down before you push your hands underneath the denim, gripping his ass in your hands. 

He works the thick material down to his thighs before he falls on top of you, crushing his body to yours, pinning you to the floor. He encases your head in his hands as you pull his face back down to yours and kiss him again as he slams into you. You inhale deeply and slam your eyes shut as he fucks into you again, your body sliding up the wood floor. He flattens his mouth to yours and you take the opportunity to bite his bottom lip as his nose presses against yours -  his hips grinding and pushing into yours. 

You reach down and palm his ass, pushing your fingers into his warm, thick flesh as he fucks you on the floor in the hallway of your apartment. Your free hand moves into his hair, grabbing a fist full before you pull on it, his hot breath washing over your face. It is soft - his hair - just like you thought it’d be.

Cafuné - it comes to you suddenly; the word you couldn’t think of earlier. It echoes in your mind as your fingertips scratch at his scalp before you pull on his hair again. You can hear Antonia’s voice as she rambled on in her thick Spanish accent. I just love to… mmm, cafuné… how do you say in ingles? Fingers in the hair, eh? There is nothing better than that. 

You know what it means now. There really is nothing better than the feeling of his hair between your fingers; ethereal in this moment. You keep your hands in his hair and on his ass as he pushes his hips into yours, your muscles spreading for him. You’re nose to nose, mouth to mouth as you both grunt and groan into each other, swallowing each other's sounds as you breathe one another in. You stare into his eyes, his busy, big, blue eyes and he smiles back at you, and even laughs as he fucks into you. You laugh too - the joy, the freedom, spilling right out of you. 

He slides in and out of your wet muscles with ease as your hands grip his sides. Your fingers explore him as he ruts into you - up his back, into his hair, around his shoulders, along his biceps - then back to his ass. God, what an ass. You bite his chin as his hips get quicker, more frantic as the pressure begins to build between the two of you. 

Your legs start to shake, your toes curling as you quiver around his length. He works your breasts free of your thin bra and sucks one into his mouth, his tongue circling and flicking your nipple. You dig your nails into his skin as he pushes into you, his cock tickling the deepest part of you. He tugs at your nipple with his teeth before he sucks on it again - groaning into your skin all the while. 

You come hard. Your hips jerk up into his as they continue to pump into you. You bite down onto his shoulder, muffling the screams and squeals as your orgasm rips through your body. He grinds into you with all of his strength until he’s spilling into you, hot ribbons of his seed coating your walls as he spurts. 

You both drag in ragged breaths as you start to come down from the high you’ve made. He keeps his arms around you, encasing you, as he stares down at you. His mouth hangs, his eyes wander your face like he’s trying to etch it into his memory. He leans down and places his lips to yours in a chaste kiss; a soft kiss. Then he’s separated from you again, his eyes staring down into yours again.

Minutes have passed, maybe an hour - neither one of you are really sure. He’s slid off of you and lays on his side, his palm flat on the side of your face. Your leg is thrown over his hip, an arm strewn underneath his head as you stroke his long forearm. His black jeans are still pushed down over his ass as he buries his free hand into your hair. He brushes random strands of hair out of your face as he blinks at you, his eyes heavy as his thumb strokes your eyebrow. 

You lay there, just like that, all night. You both eventually drift off to sleep, corralled within each other's arms as the night turns into day. You breathe in deeply as you roll over onto your side, the sun breaking into your sleep state. You crack your eyes and find him there, his eyes already open, already on you. He smiles, and you do too. 

The two of you dress in silence. You offer him your bathroom as you wrap yourself in your silk robe. All the feelings that you thought you’d have after a night like that aren’t present, not even in the slightest. There’s no shame, no awkwardness - your mind and body, your spirit is free. Light. 

You follow him out to the elevator, your hands laced together during the short walk. He pulls the scissor gate and steps inside, letting you close it behind him. He leans forward and so do you, smiling and giggling softly as you kiss through the gate.

“I’m Bucky, by the way.”

You smooth your hair away and laugh, “Nice to meet you.”

“Happy birthday, stranger.” He says, pushing the lever to the ground floor. 

“Happy birthday, stranger.” You whisper back, wiggling your fingers slowly as he’s pulled down the building, out of sight. 

----------

You move into the bar, pushing your way through the crowd as you fight to the bar. You’re not sure it always seems to be so busy on this particular day. 

“What can I get for you sweetie?” The bartender asks as soon as you approach.

“A martini please, dry.” You answer, a wide smile on your face.

“Can I get your ID really fast?”

“Of course,” you nod, digging through your purse, “It’s my birthday today.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiles back at you, glancing down at the thin plastic card.

“Yeah,” a voice sounds behind you. You don’t even have to turn around, you just smile back at the bartender as your heart flutters and the memories of the year before flood your mind, “She’s thirty nine today. Can I get a beer please?”

“ID, sir?”

You shake your head, “No need,” you say, pointing towards Bucky as he wiggles up beside you, his hand slipping around your hips, “It’s his birthday too.”

He leans against the old bar, a smile on his face as his eyes link with yours. You’ve missed that grin of his, “Hello stranger.” 

[hellroots]

『 MOBILE FRIENDLY RULES 』

— here you will find my rules or can also find them on my gdocs as well once i’m done with it. please like this if you read it, but otherwise don’t interact with this post, thank you. rest assured that i always read my moots rules before following and that i fully expect the same courtesy. i tried not to let them get too long but feel free to ask me anything you wanna know about them if it’s not clear ok?

 『 THE MUN』

NOXTROMUN, THEY/THEM, 21+, BRAZILIAN

shy but friendly ! i don't follow for follow, if i follow you that means i've read your rules and want to write with you. i have no triggers nor squicks of my own except drama in the dash, for that reason i do not engage in callouts/witch hunts and if you do it on a constant basis i might have to hard block you for my own peace of mind. although i may come off too strong/harsh, i am always up to talking things out privately. as long as you are civil, so am i. any form of hate will be deleted and blocked -  sometimes mocked, if i’m feeling cocky…

『 THE BLOG』

HELLROOTS, INDIE ( POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING AND NOT MINOR FRIENDLY ), HIGHLY SELECTIVE & PRIVATE MULTIFANDOM MULTIMUSE

primarily run on a low activity \ effort and with a slow speed.. my muselist changes a lot, depends a lot on what i’m watching lately so bear with me please. this is a drama free zone, therefore do realise that mun ≠ muses and (obviously) writing ≠ condoning !! as a quick note, do keep in mind that my blog is my safe space, just as your blog is yours - you are responsible for your own internet experience just as i am responsible for mine. should anything in my blog annoy/trigger/squick you, i strongly encourage you to block me & not write with me - your mental health is far more important ( for me, and hopefully for you as well ) than rp. on that note, please do not softblock me - that’s annoying, just hardblock please.

『 THE TRIGGERS』

TRIGGER HEAVY, PROPERLY TAGGED AND TAKING NO CRAP

i  usually  tend to write for trigger heavy fandoms (such as asoiaf, kingdom and others) and may incorporate some of it into my writing, muses' backgrounds and overall characterization. if you're bothered \ squicked \ triggered by that, i kindly encourage you to reconsider and not follow me. no amount of rp fun is worth your mental health.  i try to tag everything accordingly and i fully expect the same courtesy for our followers' sakes. be aware that there may be mentions of death, gore, violence, consanguinamory \ endogamy (especially when it comes to the lannisters and kekkei genkai clans), rape ( kingdom, though it will only be mentioned on the character’s backstory ) and cannibalism ( hannibal and kingdom ) , as well as unhealthy relationships and dynamics alongside with powerplay, and otherwise bad behaviours.  for all that is sacred, please, do note that i, the mun, do not approve, support or condone any of these actions or behaviours !!  i simply am capable of separating fiction from reality. as long as everything is properly tagged, with mutual consent and there are no minors involved (muse and especially not muns), . i support the right of a consenting adult to explore these awful dark topics in a safe fictional environment with other like minded consenting adults, people shouldn’t have to share their traumas to strangers on the internet to explain why they write what they write, be considerate. if that notion bothers you perhaps you might not want to interact with me, for both of ours sakes. fair warning, most of my graphics and aesthetics might trigger those who have xylophobia/hylophobia (phobia of trees or wooded areas), and considering it is a main theme here i will not be tagging it, i'm sorry. but its too many. however, if you want me to create a special tag for you, there's no issue! it will be either "[your mun name] don't look!" or "[your url] don't look!", whichever you prefer. QUICK EDIT/ADDITION: i do not believe that aging up fictional characters is inherently a bad thing - from what i understand, the whole appeal of aging up a character is that while you like their personality but you do not want them to be kids (for whatever reason) but insteasd adults. if you are one of those who think that aging up a character is automatically something bad (without even knowing why it was done in the first place) don’t bother following me because i do think that opinion is quite silly.

『 THE INTERACTIONS』

OC, DUPLICATE, MULTIMUSE AND CANON DIVERGENT FRIENDLY

my tagging system is simple, i tag triggers as "tw; x" and . images that may be sensitive or triggering as "cw; x". you can further see how my tags work by taking a look at my tag dump post, just search ‘tag dump’ on my blog and you will find the most recent one i’m using.    i shitpost and talk oocly on the dash constantly but you can easily blacklist my tag if it bothers you.  here's something you should know about me:  when i'm doing drafts i usually don't feel like chatting much, so please do not spam me because i won't be able to reply, i love to talk with my moots but sometimes it overwhelms me.  on that note, please don't pester me for replies ic or ooc, i am slow and chances are that if you try to guilt trip me or just nag me about it i'll leave as the ones i'll get to in the later end on purpose, just out of spite. yes, i be like that.   please be patient - i’ll never pressure you and expect the same in return.  plotting wise: i prefer to just wing it with just a faint idea of where to take the thread but honestly i'm cool with anything. please be considerate when formatting your replies, i have a bad eyesight & if i can't read it, i won't bother with it.   my own formatting is simple and clean.   on a smaller note, please bear with me and my muses as my muses ramble a lot but you don't have to match the length, just give me something to work with. if we write together, the chances of me making edits/tagging you in stuff are really big, just lmk if you don’t like that though !

『 THE FLEET』

MOSTLY BI/PAN MUSES, MULTISHIP AND MULTIVERSE, SMUT FRIENDLY

i love shipping but i like my ships to be devices to move the plot/dynamics/muses forward, every once in a while though i partake in some much loved self indulgent shipping. just because i ship a certain pairing don't presume that my characters are approaching yours with second intentions, please.   most of the time i like to reblog those relationship memes, so if you’re interested in a ship the best way (other than  sending me a message ofc) to let me know is by sending ones. there will be some triggering ships here ( like the lannisters, both cersei x jaime and joanna x tywin are my otps, and potential inter clan ships, like with the hyugas - i mean how the hell you think they keep the byakugan in their family?? ) that may either be played with trusted friends or be mentioned/reblogged sometimes, all properly tagged so you can easily blocklist/avoid it.  most of my muses are either bi or pan, those who are not will be specified. don't be afraid to reach out to me for shipping right off the bat - i'd rather have you to be open and honest with me about the interactions you want than lying to me, just know that there will be needed some plotting and threading first to see if your muses match. as an adult, my blog is smut friendly, i partake in sexual sunday a lot because some of my muses are very lewd in nature, you can blacklist my tag if that bothers you as well.

『 THE FINAL NOTES』

GENERAL RP ETIQUETTE APPLIES, CREDITS, THANK YOU FOR READING MY RULES

lastly but not least, general rp etiquette applies on my blog: no godmodding, forced ships, etc. there’s only ONE thing that truly makes me go apeshit crazy, and it’s when people don’t read my rules. i ALWAYS find out and it’s not pretty; i block it like it’s hot, ♪ ♫ ♬ block it like it’s hot ♪ ♫ ♬.   i strongly assure you that i always read your rules before both following you and also before sending memes, just in case. on a much smaller note, i’m not so hot on single shipping and i really feel weirded out about people forcing me to pic who i’m going to interact with due to theirs DNI’s. while i get DNI’s when it comes to actual predators, when it’s something seemingly random chances are that i’ll softblock you because it weirds me out how volatile some can be when it comes to a hobby. i have some trigger heavy hcs ( for example, the one about jiraiya’s hypersexuality being rooted in trauma that he suffered at a young age ) that i share with only a few muns that are closer with me, so i’ll be mentioning them every once in a while but won’t share them, please don’t insist.  i don’t really like most of the main characters of the franchises i write for, and when it comes to certain characters  i reserve the right to decline an rp for my own comfort. for further info on what i use to make my graphics please check my “CREDITS.” tag.  most of my stuff is made by me, i’ve got a lowkey rph in case you wanna check it out it’s @brazucahelps, however if you want a custom content i can see if i get a free time to come up with something :D

 IF YOU READ THIS FAR, THANK YOU SO MUCH — JUST ONE LAST THING, COULD YOU PLS LIKE THIS SO I KNOW YOU’VE READ IT? <3 THANKS!

[mischiefandspirits]

Last Laugh (2 of 3)

“Oh, I noticed,” Red X said lowly, tossing the staff aside. “What that idiot was thinking letting Flamebird send you all the way across the country right after Batkid got blown up, I’ll never know.”

Robin flinched back at the accusation before his fists clenched at his sides. “Then you’ll be happy to know no one sent me here. It’s just where I ended up when Batman decided he didn’t want to work with me anymore and tossed me out.”

The story of how Dick ended up with the Titans in Batkid and Robin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason once told Dick that he spent months after he’d come to the manor worrying he’d be dumped back onto the streets at any minute. As a result, he’d kept go-bags hidden around, ready to go at a moment’s notice in hopes that he’d have time to grab one before he was sent away. They each had water bottles and food stolen from the kitchen, bandages from the infirmary, a backup set of clothes, a good blanket, a knife, and some cash he’d save whenever Bruce would give him any.

The others had known about them, of course, but hadn’t said anything. Jason had only known because Bruce would sneak some extra cash into them and Selina would slip in things that could be useful on the streets that he hadn’t considered while Alfred had checked them every so often to refresh the food and make sure he wasn’t filling them with junk food.

Once he’d gotten more comfortable, he’d started giving them up. By the time Bruce had disappeared, all the bags Jason had hidden had been unpacked. He never let go of his need to be prepared, though. So in place of the bags, he had four briefcases. Bulletproof, fireproof, blast-proof, and with encrypted locks, they were filled with paperwork for Jason to use in case he ever needed to go on the run. Each had everything necessary for a fake identity, including corresponding bank account information. All were created outside the family’s influence just in case the reason he needed to lie low was mind control.

Dick had never seen what was inside the first two, didn’t even know where Jason had stashed them, but he knew the third had a file for Casey Jacob Dickinson. Only because the fourth held the file for Casey’s half-brother Ryan Emil Dickinson.

The latter is the one Dick took when he snuck into Jason’s room and pried up the loose floorboard hidden under the dresser in the closet. It was their special secret, something only they shared. Something Jason had trusted Dick and only Dick with.

“Thanks, Jay,” he said, replacing the floorboard. He pushed the dresser back into place then moved to leave, but paused when he spotted the brown jacket hanging by the door.

Dick had gotten it for Jason to match his own red Batkid hoodie. He’d accidentally gotten it in a larger size than Jason usually liked to wear, but that hadn’t stopped his brother from wearing it every time the two of them hung out with just each other.

Running his thumb over the red robin patch on the shoulder, Dick stared at the jacket for a moment before pulling it off the hanger.

They wouldn’t miss it. No one had been in the room in over a month.

Case in hand and jacket slung over his shoulder, he snuck back to his room. He opened the case and pulled out the file. He slipped the ID and debit card into his wallet before putting the file into the lockbox. He carefully folded the jacket and set it into the case along with the small photo album Selina had helped him put together. It held pictures of everyone in the family, including the photo Tim had given him of himself, his parents, Damian, Jon, Duke, Tim, Steph, Jason, Babs, and Cass from that night.

It was the only picture he had of his parents, thanks to the people who ran Gotham Juvenile Detention losing almost everything he’d taken with him from the circus. He had another copy on his nightstand back at the house he, Damian, and Jon shared -- had shared -- in Somerset. The family he’d lost side by side with the family he’d gained. It made him sad every time he saw it, but it was still his favorite.

Except now they were both families he’d lost.

At least if Bruce gets his way.

Dick slammed the case closed and stuck it into the duffle bag next to the lockbox. He locked the box then piled in the clothes he’d already gathered. He tossed his wallet into the bag then zipped it up and shoved it back under the bed.

One last thing to do.

He was halfway to the closest cave entrance when he bumped into Bruce and Selina.

“Hey there, songbird,” Selina greeted.

“Hey.”

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Bruce said and reached out to ruffle his hair.

Dick stepped away before he could, then walked past them. “Not hungry.”

“He heard the news, then?”

“Hm.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“I will. I’m the one he’s mad at.”

Dick stomped into the library, ignoring his tail.

“Dick, let’s talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I know you’re upset, but -”

“Then leave me alone.”

“Please just let m-”

“I get it,” Dick snapped, spinning to face the man. “You got what you wanted. You didn’t want Damian to -” To foster him, to bring him into Bruce’s home, to try and make a place for him in the family. He’d heard enough snippets of the arguments Damian and Bruce had had when Bruce came back. He’d always thought Bruce thought Damian was the problem, that he didn’t trust Damian with Dick and planned to take Dick in himself. He’d also thought Bruce had finally accepted that Damian was keeping Dick. Had he been wrong on both counts?

Or had Dick’s actions ruined everything?

“Why couldn’t you just leave us alone?”

“Dick,” Bruce sighed. He knelt in front of Dick and set his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“Anything to get what you want,” Dick snorted and pushed the hand off so he could turn away before Bruce could see his tears.

“Dick, wait.”

A hand caught his wrist and Dick…

He was losing his family again. Jason was dead. Bruce had taken Robin. Damian was sending him back. His only hope was that the others would fight for him, but would they?

If they didn’t, he’d be alone.

Again.

And it would be his fault this time.

But it would also be because…

Dick spun around and hit Bruce right in the jaw.

Then he ran.

Tim and Jason had both long outgrown the small vent hidden above a tall bookshelf in the far corner of the library and Dick had never needed to use it, but it still swung easily on the hinges the second Batkid had installed after discovering the hidden nook.

He climbed through and let the vent swing silently shut behind him. He crawled down the shaft until he reached a similar vent. He dropped down into a thin, dusty hallway. Down the hall, around a corner, then down another hall was a small door halfway up the wall. A makeshift ladder led up to it and a hidden lever opened it, revealing Bruce’s study.

Dick dropped out of the hidden passage, letting the door swing shut behind him to meld unnoticeably with the rest of the wall. He twisted the hands of the grandfather clock on the opposite wall and disappeared down into the cave, heading for the vehicle bay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick left while the others were all patrolling and Alfred was taking a break. He used a bike that he’d removed the tracker from and kept all his devices off. He went to a hotel in the Bowery that he knew was shady enough to look the other way when a fourteen-year-old rented a room on his own, but not shady enough to take advantage of it.

He gave it a week, then two, before sneaking onto a roof in Coventry on a night he knew Oracle wouldn’t be working. He turned on the comm he’d brought and listened in. For the most part, everything was just the usual reporting in. However, things changed just before one.

“I’m moving in. Going dark,” Batman said.

“Got it, B-man,” Batgirl chirped. After a moment, in a more somber voice, she said, “So…”

Black Bat groaned and Orphan said, “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask!”

“We haven’t heard anything, and we’re not getting involved,” Black Bat said shortly.

“Not our place,” Orphan agreed.

“I know that! I was just wondering if Flamebird’s changed his mind,” Batgirl huffed.

“It’s for the best,” Orphan said after a moment.

“I get that,” Batgirl sighed. “I’m just going to miss the kid. I already miss him, and I know Oracle and Pup do too.”

“We all feel that way, but… I feel bad that he’s losing Robin, but he needs to get away from all this. After everything that’s happened… Flamebird’s right,” Black Bat said softly.

“Robin will be better off there, no matter how much we miss him,” Orphan insisted.

“Yeah, yeah. Have you guys gotten any leads on where he could -”

Dick didn’t hear the rest of Batgirl’s question as he yanked out the comm and smashed it on the ground.

He’d thought… He’d hoped…

But they agreed with Bruce. They agreed with sending him away. They weren’t going to talk Damian around.

Dick pressed his face into his knees and screamed.

He couldn’t stay in Gotham. The Bats would eventually find him, and now he knew that’d be a one-way ticket back to juvie.

He left the hotel in the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin had been hesitant to stay with the others. There was no way the Bats hadn’t noticed his involvement in the invasion that had brought their team together. It was better for him to move on as soon as possible

He really hadn't wanted to, though.

They had been an amazing team and had quickly become friends. He also knew they would understand his past if he told them since Wonder Girl was an outcast among most Amazons as a result of her Brazilian heritage, Impulse was dealing with the fact her father was currently lost in the Speed Force, Virus was still trying to reconnect with his people now that he’s free from the Mawlix, and Nightstar had run away from home to get away from her absentee mother’s shadow.

That was the only reason he stayed as long as he had while they began to put together their base using the remains of Virus’s ship.

He was working up to telling the team he had to leave when he stumbled upon Impulse and Wonder Girl talking in the common area.

“It’s a shame, really,” Impulse sighed, clutching a magazine.

“Boohoo,” Wonder Girl snorted, not looking up from her book.

“I’m serious.”

“He’s one boy, and not even a worthwhile one from what I’ve seen.”

“Speedy said White Arrow and Silver Canary have met him, though, and he’s super sweet.” The speedster shoved the magazine towards her face. “Plus, just look at him!”

Wonder Girl shoved it away, rolling her eyes.

“What’s going on?” Robin asked hesitantly.

“Impulse is crying because some famous pretty boy is going away to boarding school.”

The speedster shot her a look then turned sad eyes on Robin. “It’s Richard Grayson!”

Ice shot down Robin’s spine. “What?”

“Yeah, the Waynes are shipping him off to some school overseas,” she said, waving the magazine towards him and he took it. “The family wouldn’t say where since they wanted…”

Robin fell back on his training to keep his face blank and his hands steady as he scanned through the article.

They knew where he was, and they were covering it up. They had come up with a grand lie about him going to school in England to explain his absence.

They weren’t coming for him.

“Poor guy,” he said, closing the magazine and handing it back.

“See, Robin gets it!” he heard Impulse say as he turned and left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Small Easter Eggs: The briefcase from Teen Titans episode "Revved Up" and Dick punching Bruce from The New Batman Adventures episode "Old Wounds".

[dweemeister]

Melody Time (1948)

Disengaged and disinterested, Walt Disney was adrift at his own studio in the late 1940s. The studio’s modestly-budgeted package animated features were designed to save it from financial ruin. Yet, they required artistic and storytelling compromises that Disney was loathe to make. In this period, Disney shuffled personnel around the various departments – whether due to personal conflicts or dissatisfaction with their artistic approach on a certain film. Melody Time’s segments are of varying quality and limited experimentation, reflecting the organizational tumult within the studio. No standout moment exists in Melody Time, even though it is more energetic and looser than the preceding Fun and Fancy Free (1947).

The modern Walt Disney Company has advertised Melody Time as a film, “in the grand tradition of Disney’s greatest musical classics, such as Fantasia.” Audacious comparison to make, but functionally inaccurate. Fantasia, as imagined by Walt Disney, Deems Taylor, Leopold Stokowski, and the studio’s animators, was crafted so that its animation would empower the music (in cinema, the reverse – where music serves the action on-screen – is almost always a filmmaker’s approach). The reverse of that relationships holds here. Melody Time contains these seven segments, or “mini-musicals”: “Once Upon a Wintertime”, “Bumble Boogie”, “The Legend of Johnny Appleseed”, “Little Toot”, “Trees”, “Blame It on the Samba”, and “Pecos Bill”. Some of these mini-musicals are more watchable and more artistically interesting than others – although that standard is relatively low in Melody Time.

“Once Upon a Wintertime” is based on an overused Disney narrative template that never ceases to be a bore. A young couple are out and about, flirting and flitting, all while the woodland animals scurrying back and forth mirror human courtship. The segment, however, is partially redeemed by Frances Langford singing the segment’s title song (composed by Bobby Worth and Ray Gilbert) and the unmistakable influence of Mary Blair (1950’s Cinderella, the “It’s a Small World” attraction at Disneyland in Anaheim) in its aesthetic. With any piece of animation involving Mary Blair, one can expect an eye-catching use of color and her modernist art style. “Once Upon a Wintertime” is like a holiday card brought to animated life. Unlike a picturesque and meaningful holiday card, though, it overstays its welcome. But the stereotypical treatment of the young women appearing in “Once Upon a Wintertime” is, to put it mildly, clichéd writing at best. Hackneyed, too, is the fact that the woodland animals come to the human’s rescue.

Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s Flight of the Bumblebee is one of the most recognizable (and overplayed) pieces of Western classical music, even to those folks who go out of their way to announce their distaste for classical music. Given a jazz rendition by the Freddy Martin Orchestra, “Bumble Boogie” is a thankfully brief three-minute foray. Here, an insect (that does not seem anything like a bee) flies through a series of surreal images – mostly parts of musical instruments (piano keys in particular) – that it must avoid. The segment is visually entertaining to watch, even if it must have been the easiest to prepare, design, and animated for in all of Melody Time. If placed in either Fantasia or Fantasia 2000, it would easily be the weakest Fantasia segment ever produced.

Third in the film is a segment that feels most like a classic Disney production. “The Legend of Johnny Appleseed” is Disney’s glorified and sanitized take on the eponymous American pioneer, nurseryman, conservationist, and missionary. Walt’s personal ideology and perspective on American history included the fulfillment of Manifest Destiny and the taming of the nation’s wilds as among humanity’s greatest achievements. These are notions that Walt – through his films, theme parks, television shows, and public and private remarks – never questioned. Narrated and with Johnny Appleseed voiced by Dennis Day, there is a sincerity to Johnny’s characterization not present anywhere else in the movie. Again, Mary Blair’s artwork – this time, her forested backgrounds – appears as if heaven-sent. The umbrella-like canopy of the apple trees and “untamed” forests are inviting, and attract one’s eyes upward – towards the apples, paradise.

The title song (sometimes referred to as “The Lord is Good to Me”) featured in the opening moments of “The Legend of Appleseed” is one of the earliest – and one of the few – mentions or depictions of religious faith in a Disney animated work. It reinforces the mythos that surrounds Johnny Appleseed (and, by extension, the belief that white men are divine heroes for civilizing the lands west of the original Thirteen Colonies) to the present day. I was not raised in any of the Abrahamic religions, but it difficult to deny the simple charm of the title song and this segment – even if it endorses a troublesome perspective on American history. “The Legend of Johnny Appleseed” is the best segment of Melody Time – from its unassuming storytelling and wondrous animation. It is the only Melody Time segment that I could possibly envision as a decent feature-length animated film.

Based on a 1939 children’s picture book of the same name Hardie Gramatky, “Little Toot” is a chore to sit through. The segment shares similar narrative and aesthetic tissue with Saludos Amigos’ (1942) “Pedro”, which concerned an anthropomorphic mail airplane that thinks it could. Along the Hudson River in New York City, Little Toot is a tiny tugboat who aspires to be like his father Big Toot. Just as in “Pedro”, this is a case of an anthropomorphized vehicle child who attempts to assume adult responsibility in order to prove that they can perform tasks as well as the adults can. Given that Little Toot is a meddling prankster playing tugboat games, it is difficult to feel much sympathy when he finally faces the consequences of his actions – which probably includes calamitous infrastructural damage and human casualties. Of course, Little Toot is eventually redeemed through some heroic deeds. All of the tugboats will love him, as they belt out with glee that Little Toot will go down in history. The segment is grating, including the novelty title song sung by The Andrews Sisters. Aside from some fascinating water effects, there is not much that “Little Toot” offers in the way of animated interest. Otherwise, it is least interesting segment of the film.

The palate-cleanser is “Trees”, a four-minute segment based on Joyce Kilmer’s poem of the same name (music composed by Oscar Rasbach and performed by Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians). Its aesthetic harkens back to a few seconds near the end of the “Ave Maria” in Fantasia, but otherwise “Trees” is distinct from anything else that has appeared in the Disney animated canon. When setting to work on “Trees”, layout artist Ken O’Connor (1941’s Dumbo, 1987’s The Brave Little Toaster) found himself enamored by the concept art, and endeavored to be a faithful to the style set by the concept art as possible. To do this, O’Connor frosted cels before drawing pastel images onto the cel. Before being photographed by the studio’s multiplane camera, each cel was laminated in clear lacquer to prevent the pastel from smudging. Thanks to O’Connor’s experimentation, “Trees”, however fleeting, lays claim to some of the most beautiful animation among all of the package Disney animated features.

“Blame it on the Samba” sees a reunion of Donald Duck and Brazilian parrot José Carioca (Saludos Amigos, 1944’s The Three Caballeros) are walking about, depressed, directionless. Suddenly, they encounter the Aracuan Bird (who debuted in The Three Caballeros), who whisks them inside a cocktail that introduces them to the rhythmic pleasures of the samba. The segment’s title song is based on Ernesto Nazareth’s polka Apanhei-te, Cavaquinho, sung by The Dinning Sisters with adapted English lyrics, and accompanied by organist Ethel Smith (who appears as herself).

“Blame it on the Samba” feels like it should have been featured in either Saludos Amigos or The Three Caballeros – and that was the intention exactly. Intended to appear in Saludos Amigos, “Blame it on the Samba” was animated and completed in time for it to be incorporated in The Three Caballeros. Given Donald Duck’s lust for human women in the second half of the latter movie, “Blame it on the Samba” might have otherwise been a serviceable penultimate number in that film. The segment is an explosion of color, a kick in the rear for a movie that feels much longer than its seven-five-minute runtime might suggest. And yet in a segment for a music genre innovated in Brazil and popularized by Brazilians, the performers and the performance lack any discernible Brazilian influence or roots. This is not samba music. Instead, it is the culmination of what a white American might think samba music sounds like. This unfortunate development probably would have been avoided entirely if “Blame it on the Samba” appeared in those two aforementioned films instead.

“Pecos Bill”, based on the Texan folk hero of the same name, makes reference to American Indians in ghastly ways. Simultaneously, its absurd humor and lack of fidelity to sensible human behavior and physics make it a delight to watch. The segment also boasts the presence of Roy Rogers and the Pioneers (and Rogers’ horse, Trigger). Child actors Luana Patten and Bobby Driscoll, both of whom had just starred in Song of the South (1946), make brief appearances in the segment’s hybrid animation/live-action introduction. Rogers, then contracted to Republic Pictures, was one of the quintessential stars of the singing cowboy subgenre – singing cowboy movies were almost exclusively made by the “Poverty Row” studios including Republic, and they were extremely profitable against their barebones budgets). “Pecos Bill” all begins with the atmospheric, moody “Blue Shadows on the Trail”. “Blue Shadows on the Trail” describes and, through its spare instrumentation, reflects the emptiness and desolation of the American West. It is a beautiful ballad, and could easily be placed in any Western (singing cowboy movies or otherwise).

Once the hybrid animation/live-action introduction concludes, “Pecos Bill” steams forward with comic hyperbole followed by another comic hyperbole. The title song (music by Eliot Daniel, lyrics by Johnny Lange) doubles down on the exaggerations. Those exaggerations include the segment’s constant gunplay – escaping censorship from the Hays Code: a risqué gag that includes Pecos Bill’s guns going off because of love interest Slue Foot Sue. At least Melody Time ends brashly and riotously, but any impressionable children watching will require a discussion from a trusted adult. Its depictions of American Indians and men-women relations are deplorable, but after just over an hour of inconsistent quality, I found myself enjoying “Pecos Bill” more than I imagined.

Shortly after the release of Melody Time, Walt Disney embarked on a three-week cruise to Hawai’i. Walt rarely went vacationing, and he spent these weeks fully concentrating on his family and escaping from the minutiae of managing his studio. Even after returning from Hawai’i, Walt did not spend much time in Burbank. Walt invited animator and fellow train enthusiast Ward Kimball on a trip to the Midwest. Together, they attended the 1948 Chicago Railroad Fair, visited the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan, and stopped at other locations close to Walt’s childhood in the Midwest. Through the end of 1948, Walt spent more time constructing the train set in his backyard than paying attention to the animation and live-action movies his studio was producing. What seemed like idleness to many (including New York Times film critic Bosley Crowther, who believed that Disney was a cinematic genius wasting his time on quixotic projects) was a major inspiration for a draft sketch entitled “Mickey Mouse Park”, dated August 31, 1948.

The package era at Walt Disney Productions (now Walt Disney Animation Studios) was nearing its end. Every film during this run – Saludos Amigos (1942), The Three Caballeros (1944), Make Mine Music (1946), Fun and Fancy Free (1947), Melody Time, and The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad (1949) – faced the same narrative of Walt Disney’s personal indifference to the projects, a lack of direction and motivation among the animators, and audience and critic dissatisfaction when compared to Disney’s Golden Age movies. A return to non-package animated features would be imminent, in spite of Melody Time’s mediocre performance at the box office. The Disney studios would attempt to begin a period of renewal with a tradition that inaugurated their animated canon – with a fairy tale.

My rating: 6/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

[itsmyara]

About That Night... (Hisomachi Fanfic)

Note: Another translation, though my English is not that great ^^’. It’s 3532 words NO SMUT! I hope you’ll enjoy it.

Pairing: Hisoka/Machi

Summary: Hisoka realized that he was still analyzing her for a reason other than trying to investigate the possible sources of her drunkenness. He was mesmerized by the way emotions were running free in her face, something he had never seen before.

Warning: Drunk!Machi, Jealous!Hisoka, Alcohol, Mentions of Drugs, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Getting Sick, Passing Out, Hangover, Mild Language.

[Link to AO3 in English] 

[Link to AO3 in Brazilian Portuguese]

Her body moved insanely under the colorful lights of the room to the sound of a repetitive and irritating electronic beat. Although she was dressed much more discreetly than the other girls in the club, wearing simple jeans and a black tank top, she drew attention and caused a small audience to gather around her. Dancing with a big, strong man covered in tattoos and looking like a local crime boss, she moved boldly and sensually, with a loose laugh that occasionally lit up her face.

"Is this just alcohol effect or did she use something else?" Hisoka questioned the man standing next to him, without taking his eyes off Machi on the dance floor.

The tattooed man's hand slid down her small body and slipped under the black tank top, pressing her waist against him while his mouth whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. Hisoka's fists clenched hard.

Illumi shrugged before answering the question in a monotone voice:

"I don't know, she was already like this when I arrived, so I called you. She's dancing with my target and it doesn't look like she's going to leave him anytime soon. So I called you. I figured you wouldn't want it to be me taking her out of there."

Hisoka moved his eyes to face the ever-so-cold colleague. He was right. If he used his methods against Machi, even if it was just to get her out of the way, he would have to make a little reckoning with him. But the assassin was smart. Illumi decided to turn the situation around and, by calling Hisoka, he won himself a favor to collect later.

When the magician looked back at the pink-haired woman, he saw the tattoed man leading her towards a door in a reserved corner of the nightclub.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Illumi observed the scenario calmly and then turned away, unconcerned.

"Just remember that no matter what he does to your girl. He is my target and I need him alive. I will wait outside."

Hisoka responded with an annoyed snort before walking in the opposite direction of his friend. The bloodlust that exuded from the magician made people open the way naturally, looking suspiciously at the strange man who carried a macabre look on his face.

He unceremoniously kicked down the door to the private room, much to the surprise of some people who ran away, but not Machi. She has been waiting for him, even though she was pressed against the wall by the other man's body. She could be intoxicated, but her perception would never fail to notice Hisoka's bloodlust.

Hisoka leaned against the damaged door frame, crossing his arms casually as he faced the scene in the room by the half-light.

"Oh, am I interrupting something?" He asked wryly.

The tattooed man immediately released Machi and faced him without fear.

"What's up, clown? This one is mine now, if you want the leftover you'll have to wait outside."

Hisoka laughed shortly. The man had given the worst answer he could when he was so obviously in a risky position. He was nothing between the two nen users — even though one of them was intoxicated — and the only difficulty the magician faced was being forced to use only his fists to bring down the thug. He didn't like having to control himself that way, not when he wanted to end the existence of someone so weak and unwary, but he would have to leave that to Illumi.

Machi only seemed to understand the situation completely when the man was already lying on the floor unconscious, and Hisoka was heading to her with an enigmatic smile.

"You could have chosen someone stronger, you know? This is almost an insult..."

"What are you doing here? After everything you’ve done, you decided to follow me?"

Even though the place was dark, Hisoka could see her cheeks flushed. Her eyes shone with tears and her lips swollen, red, and moist; probably as a result of the kisses she shared with that useless guy. He took a long time to analyze it, for a moment believing that it was because he had to determine if she was under the influence of a drug other than alcohol.

His hands grabbed her face, and the only reaction she had was to hold his arms as if she was going to try to stop him, but she didn’t actually apply enough force to it.

"I'm too busy to follow you, ok? But when a little bird tells me that you're out there screwing up, I have to act, don't I?"

Machi laughed sadly, her chest shaking almost quietly between them, and Hisoka realized that he was still analyzing her for a reason other than trying to investigate the possible sources of her drunkenness. He was mesmerized by the way emotions were running free in her face, something he had never seen before.

"You think I'm weak, Hisoka..." she murmured under her breath, and then in a burst, she pulled his hands away from her face and pushed him away. "Do you think I need you to defend me from this ?" She pointed to the dead weight on the floor and then laughed sadly again.

Actually, he was defending her from Illumi, who wouldn't be so patient with her drama, but Hisoka resigned himself to smile in response, making her snort.

"I hate you!"

There was a very sincere feeling in those words, which came out of her mouth as if they were ripping her up. This made Hisoka lean his head in curiosity. However, Machi simply looked at him from head to toes in disbelief before turning away and stumbling out of that room, pushing one or the other person off her way and randomly stealing a drinking glass from one of them as she headed to the exit.

Hisoka sighed, grabbing the unconscious man by the hair and dragging him along while he went behind the woman. He caught up with Machi near the door, where even the security guards had already moved away. Without saying a word, he wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her off the floor, carrying her out despite her protests.

"This is yours," Hisoka declared as he threw the unconscious body at Illumi’s feet.

The body that writhed and struggled, trying weakly to attack Hisoka without ceasing, was his.

"Do you want some help with her?" Illumi offered, watching the woman's wildness with some curiosity.

"No, she has the right to protest. When she gets tired, she'll see that this is in her best interest."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here, you wretch! Fight me like a man! I'm going to kill you with my bare hands!"

Between punches and kicks, Hisoka just waved a greeting to Illumi and went on his way.

[...]

When he crossed the threshold of his hotel room, Machi was less savage in his arms. In fact, at some point along the way, she had given up attacking him and started just pouring out words about him being a traitor, about Chrollo, and even something about Pakunoda's death. Some of her words actually made sense, but the state she was still in, which seemed to get worse by the second, made any response from him useless.

Therefore, in the face of silence, Machi finally burst into tears before reaching their destination, and Hisoka thought it was best to cradle her properly in his arms so that when they crossed the door she was being carried like a bride, but a tearful one against his chest.

When he tried to accommodate her on the couch, she clung more tightly to his shoulders, as a clear sign that she didn't want to part at that moment.

"Oh? I thought you hated me," he declared with a playful laugh.

"Why do you have to be like this?"

Her voice was so heartfelt that he couldn't help but sigh before settling on the couch with her in his arms. Machi wouldn't remember any of that the next day, which is why he stopped to think for a few seconds about what she just said. He knew that she was not referring to his jokes, but to the fact that he had lied for years and, in the end, revealed a goal that clashed with her own completely. If it weren't for that, maybe she wouldn't have to hate him that much.

She finally looked up and, not without effort, focused her reddened eyes on his. Hisoka looked at her expression legitimately surprised. He could expect hatred and tears on her part, but the way she looked at him now was... sweet. For some reason, he was sure that if he kissed her now, despite anything that preceded this moment, what he would taste on her lips would be something so deep and meaningful that, yes, it scared him.

That's why he didn't kiss her, allowing her to break the silence:

"You're spinning..." Machi murmured, and then laughed in a silly way, breaking the magic as well. "You're spinning and you're not going to tell me anything, are you? You're not even here, I'm imagining you," she put her face back on his shoulder. "At least you smell good…"

"Machi, what did you use?" Hisoka knew he probably wouldn't get a coherent answer, but that doubt had haunted him since the moment he saw her that night. It was hard to believe that only alcohol would do that to a woman as strong as her. There had to be some other chemistry influencing her altered state.

"What did I use?" She asked, confused, and then looked up to him again. "Ah… you wanna know if I did something," she approached his ear and whispered: "Maybe…"

Suddenly she let go of his shoulders and stood up, staggering a little and cleaning the tracks of the tears on her face with the back of her hands. She walked a few steps erratically and looked around in amazement before looking at him again.

"Do you pay to sleep here?" Machi asked in surprise and laughed right away as if it were really hilarious. "You pay ! You're such a fancy-pants."

Hisoka just settled down more comfortably on the couch, watching the scene. On several occasions, he wished to see her acting more spontaneously, freer, but this situation was just sad. He didn’t even want to take advantage of it or tease her about it — at least not until the next day.

He watched Machi shrink into herself again, leaning against the wall and letting the weight of her body drag her to the floor. She crossed her arms very specifically over her stomach, and he knew it was a sign that something rather unpleasant was about to happen.

"You’re feeling sick," he declared, standing up to meet her.

"I'm fine, I'm fine…" Machi flinched a little more, however. "I just miss them..."

Ignoring the way she was closing herself off, Hisoka lifted her from the floor by the shoulders, as if she were a small child. He looked at Machi’s eyes seriously, while pinning her against the wall.

"I know you miss them, but acting like this is stupid. I can't believe you're the same Machi I know."

"Pakunoda was the first person who cared about me in this world," she declared and then swallowed hard before continuing: "she was my family and now she’s dead. Chrollo is my family and now he's far away, unable to use his nen, and I know you had a part in it. The chain guy..." Machi closed her eyes briefly as if to take his name from memory, "Kurapika, you sold our secrets to Kurapika because you wanted to, didn't you? He didn't do to you what he did to Paku, you don't have a fucking chain in your heart. You don't even have a fucking heart! You are a..." eyelids closed again, this time, however, she couldn't remember the word. A single tear streamed down her left eye. "Damn it…"

"You talk as if you have a heart," Hisoka interrupted her coldly, which made her look at him with a sharp look, a faint bloodlust pulsing from her intoxicated body. "You don't feel anything for anyone but for a few of your friends. You're not much better than me."

Machi struggled in his hands for a fraction of a second, resigning herself to kill him only with her intentions when she was unable to leave. She looked a little more like who she really was now.

"You have no idea, you idiot."

Those words were followed by a few seconds of silence in which the blue of her eyes became indecipherable. That was when he remembered who she was and why he cared so much. Machi was the lady of the labyrinth, and he had never managed to get out of her tortuous paths because, very wisely, she had never given him her threads, leaving him lost forever in her maze.

"When I fight Chrollo, who do you want to survive?" He didn’t know where this question came from when it left his mouth, but the reaction it had caused in the woman justified it.

Machi blinked a few times, as if trying to calculate the seriousness of what he had asked, and then closed her eyes with a certain solemnity.

"I don't want you to fight Danchou. I don't want either of you dead."

Perhaps the answer was more than enough, but she had also progressively got closer to him, so much so that her lips touched his lightly at first, completing the touch quickly in a kiss. Without so much lightness, he finally advanced against her mouth, pressing her against the wall now with the weight of his own body.

Machi moaned at his advance, embracing him with arms and legs irresistibly, making him also express the delight that took his body and his aura when, suddenly, she stepped away from him, with such assertiveness and urgency that he couldn't stop it.

And he was thankful for that when he saw her turn and lean her body, finally fulfilling the omen he had moments ago, throwing up on the floor of the hotel room.

Hisoka gave a disappointed snort, but the way her back curved with each spasm of her stomach made him quickly accept that this night would really be unique in his life.

The night he would spend taking care of someone's booze.

[...]

Machi opened her eyes, but the ambient light hurt like a razor and she hid her face in the pillow by reflex. Both her head and stomach were aching with an intensity that made any thought difficult, but when she smelled Hisoka's scent on the pillowcase, she knew something was very wrong. She fought the pain and opened her eyes at once, sitting on the bed and trying to identify where she was. A messy double bed, a hotel room lit with curtains open. Then she found herself wearing only a stretched, cropped T-shirt with playing card suits printed and panties that she at least recognized as her own.

Her nightmare was completed when she heard the magician's happy voice humming at the bedroom door.

"Good morning sunshine!"

There he was, holding a breakfast tray and wearing nothing but one of his ridiculous pants.

Machi wanted to disappear, but the best she could do was cover herself with the bedsheets.

"Don't worry, I saw all this and much more last night," Hisoka stated at her gesture as he left the tray on the nightstand and sat beside her on the bed.

She wanted to emanate bloodlust to let him know it wasn't funny, but the pain in her body prevented her, so she just squinted, watching him pour coffee in a cup and hold it out to her.

"Take this, it will make you feel better."

Machi held the cup suspiciously, without bringing it to her mouth, however. The smell of the drink, which at another time would be inviting, made her stomach turn.

"What's going on? What did you do to me?"

"Now, now, don't you remember anything?" He lay on his stomach beside her, looking at her in that paradoxically, uncomfortable and inviting way.

Machi vaguely remembered some things, but none of them made sense. So she let Hisoka continue:

"I saw you at a party yesterday by chance, you were already… happy… so don't ask me anything before that. You were dancing with a man who is dead now. I got him out of the way because he wasn't treating you like you deserve. So we danced, I made you laugh a few times, I brought you here, we made many, delicious things on the couch, and then against the wall, but unfortunately, you got sick and, by the way, that's why I pay to stay here, they clean up this kind of a mess," the smile broke with malice on his lips, while she tried to assimilate everything he said. "Now you, I was the one who cleaned you up. We took a hot shower together and you fell asleep in my arms soon after."

The sharp pain in her head seemed to create a wall in her own memories and in her ability to distinguish, in his words, what were lies and what were truths. Machi knew he was lying; it was too perfect a situation for him. Too easy. But the way she found herself left her without arguments.

"Well, I don't feel like we did anything much last night," she tried to fish, her voice cold, but he just laughed briefly.

"I was gentle with you this time. Believe it or not, I care about you."

"Liar," Machi accused him coldly, and then abandoned the cup on the nightstand beside her, making an effort to get out of bed, despite the pain.

It was incredible how she, always so resistant, was now suffering just because of a headache.

Machi looked for her clothes in the room, finding them folded on a chair, and began to dress while her other headache who was lying on the bed brought to him the cup she had abandoned — using nen, most likely — sipping and mumbling something about how she really should have drunk the coffee to feel better. Her eyes looked at Hisoka briefly. From her position, she had a wide view of his back, and the absence of the spider tattoo there, which was no longer needed because he was no longer keeping cover, seemed to make her a little dizzy.

How had she not realized before that his tattoo was nothing more than his Texture Surprise? How had her intuition not warned her that he was lying all the time? And why was the real Hisoka — well, at least, the Hisoka who no longer had to pretend he belonged with the Troupe — bothering to bring her coffee in bed?

She shook her head, with the excuse of trying to fix her hair, when in fact Machi was trying to put away those pathetic thoughts, even if the gesture caused her more pain. As soon as she buttoned up her jeans she headed to the bedroom door, stopping in her tracks, however, by his words, or by the unconscious desire to hear them.

"You should stay, you're not completely recovered and it's cold outside."

Hisoka sat on the bed but just looked at her with that serenity of someone who knows what they want, and knows that the object of their desire wants them in return. But it wouldn't happen today, and possibly, on any other day after he revealed his betrayal, Machi tried to conclude.

"I know how to take care of myself," she replied, determined to continue on her way.

"At least get a coat before you leave..."

"Stop pretending that you worry, you know you don't have to fake it anymore!" Machi declared, like an outburst, and finally left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Alone, Hisoka deposited the cup on the tray and lay down on the bed, taking a deep breath when feeling its comfort. He had missed it after spending the night on the couch.

He had obviously intertwined lies and truths in the story he told her. After Machi felt sick, he had actually called the room service to clean up the mess while he undressed and bathed her in the bathroom; she was so lethargic that she didn't even protest. Nor had she protested when he dressed her in his t-shirt and left her sleeping alone in his bed. Just that, and nothing more than that.

Still, he knew that last night had been very interesting and revealing in many ways, and he was satisfied with that.

He looked to the side and found a pink strand of hair on the white pillow. He took it between his fingers, bringing it to him as if it were a beautiful and precious memento.

"You have no idea, do you?" He murmured to that tiny part of her she had left behind. "You have absolutely no idea..."

[alice-beaumont-ravenclaw]

Hottest Spot South of Havana (Part 1)

A/N #1: Yay! The first part of the first fic in the Brazilian series is finally here! It was supposed to be a much shorter fic, but turned out way longer than I expected. Thankfully, dividing it into two parts works. The title is inspired by Barry Manilow’s Copacabana (At the Copa). Fun fact: that song is about a murder. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Galeão International Airport. Local time is 8:10 pm, and the temperature is 27°C. For your safety and comfort, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the Captain turns off the Fasten Seat Belt sign. This will indicate that we have parked at the gate and that it is safe for you to move about. Please check around your seat for any personal belongings you may have brought on board with you, and please use caution when opening the overhead bins, as heavy articles may have shifted around during the flight. If you require deplaning assistance, please remain in your seat until all other passengers have deplaned. One of our crew members will then be pleased to assist you. On behalf of British Airways and the entire crew, I’d like to thank you for joining us on this trip, and we are looking forward to seeing you onboard again soon. Have a nice stay!” announced the flight attendant.

“I can’t believe we’re finally in Rio!” said Penny as she looked out the small window. 

“I can’t believe we’re finally going to get off that plane! Poor Dennis. Transfigured into a plush toy for 13 hours,” said Tulip, petting a plush frog.

“They wouldn’t have allowed a live frog on a flight. Besides, why didn’t you leave him at home? You’ll have to transfigure him every time we go somewhere,” asked Andre.

“Not every time! He can roam free on the beach. And I would never leave Dennis behind. I’d feel like I was abandoning my child!”

“I’m sure no one will stare at a girl with a toad on a leash at the beach,” mumbled Alice as she took her backpack from under the seat in front of her, the seatbelt sign having been turned off.

“Why couldn’t I bring Newt with me?” asked Barnaby.

“Your bowtruckle?” asked Tonks, to which Barnaby nodded.

“Because they are magical creatures Muggles know nothing about. It’s like if I wanted to bring a dragon…” said Charlie as he took out carry-on luggage from the overhead bins.

“With the big difference that bowtruckles won’t try to burn everything around to a crisp,” said Diego, smirking as he took the handle of his carry-on.

“Dragons are very misunderstood creatures,” said Charlie with a small pout.

“Sure they are,” said Alice, giving him a small peck on the cheek as she took his hand to lead him out of the plane.

After going through customs, the group went to pick up their luggage before heading toward the taxi area.

“Ok, so, Diego, you take one taxi with Andre, Barnaby, and Charlie. I’ll go with Penny, Tonks, and Tulip,” said Alice as they waited in line.

“Why am I in charge of that group?” asked Diego, raising an eyebrow.

“You speak Spanish.”

“You are aware they speak Portuguese in Brazil, right?”

“I know. But no one speaks Portuguese in our group. We speak Latin languages, so we might be slightly better at understanding Portuguese.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh look!” said Andre pointing at a sign indicating “Escada rolante” over an escalator. “They have an Escada up those stairs!” 

“Oh! And they even have a library at the airport. I wonder how borrowing works at an airport library,” said Penny as she pointed at a bookstore with the word “Livraria” above it.

“You were saying?” said Alice, looking at Diego.

“Ok, you might be on to something. But that doesn’t mean we’ll be able to understand when someone speaks Portuguese.”

“Oh, I know I won’t. I thought the flight attendant was speaking Russian after making the English announcements until I realized it didn’t make sense since we were heading to Rio, not Moscow. But we still have a small advantage over our friends.”

“Wait, so the guys will be in one taxi, and the girls in another? What if something happens?” asked Charlie. 

“We are four witches. If anyone tries something funny with us, I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to defend ourselves,” said Alice, crossing her arms as she looked at Charlie, bemused.

“Not to mention, I have a stash of dungbombs with me,” added Tulip, making everyone turn around to stare at her.

Before anyone could say anything, it was their turn to take a taxi. They separated into the two groups Alice had planned and headed toward the Copacabana Palace. In the girls’ taxi, Penny and Alice were busy telling Tulip to be careful with the dungbombs while Tonks sat at the front, trying to have a conversation with the taxi driver. In the boys’ taxi, Charlie sat at the front, keeping an eye on the girls’ taxi, Barnaby doing the same thing as he sat in the middle of the backseat. Andre was nodding off as Diego tried to understand what the taxi driver was telling him. 

When they finally arrived at the hotel, Alice made her way to the hotel’s reception while her friends looked in awe at the lobby. 

“So this is how the other half lives,” said Tonks as she looked at the chandelier dangling from the ceiling.

“I’m pretty sure it’s the top 1% that lives like that,” said Tulip as she stared at the people walking around. 

“I feel so out of place,” whispered Charlie to Andre.

“Don’t. Just enjoy it. Your girl really gave us a treat,” whispered back Andre.

“Actually, it’s my father’s treat,” said Alice as she stood behind them, keys in hand.

“Alice! How long have you…” started saying Charlie.

“Long enough to tell you there’s no reason you should feel out of place. You are a charming young man who was raised by the one and only Molly Weasley. As long as you don’t fart or burp in public, and you don’t walk around public areas stark naked, you’re good,” said Alice, linking her arm with her boyfriend’s.

“So, are we getting to our rooms? It’s like midnight in the UK, and if I don’t see a bed soon, I am crashing on those sofas,” said Penny, pointing at the sofas in the lobby.

“Yeah, yeah, just let me tell the bell boy where to drop our luggage,” replied Alice.

After speaking to the bell boy, Alice rejoined her friends and led them to the elevator. Once inside, she pressed on the top floor button.

“Top floor, huh? Isn’t it usually where the penthouse is?” whispered Andre with a sly smile.

Alice froze for an instant, glancing at Andre, before looking back to the elevator’s buttons.

“Oh. My. God. We are in the penthouse?!” loudly whispered Andre.

“Shhhh! We are in two penthouse suites, but nobody needs to know about the penthouse part,” angrily whispered Alice.

“Like they won’t notice. Are you trying to make Charlie uncomfortable? Why didn’t you go for standard rooms?”

“You think I asked for those rooms? They were the only ones left! Dad didn’t tell me until I was back home for the break. He meant well, but I know it looks like I’m flaunting my family’s wealth,” grumbled Alice as the elevator doors opened.

“Welcome to the Penthouse level,” said two butlers.

“So much for keeping the Penthouse part a secret,” said Andre as he patted Alice’s back.

“Crap. Butlers,” said Alice under her breath.

“Penthouse? Damn, Alice, your father is giving us the royal treatment,” said Tonks, tapping her friend’s back as she left the elevator.

“Are you the Beaumont party?” asked one of the butlers.

“Yes, we are,” said Alice as she followed the others out of the elevator.

“Let us show you to your rooms,” said the other butler as they led the group to two doors.

“Ok, so, we will be four per room. The girls will be in that room,” started saying Alice, as she handed the keys to her friends. “The boys will be in the other one.”

“Wait, you’re not sharing a room with Charlie?” asked Penny, raising an eyebrow.

“Hum, no? Why would I?” said Alice, staring at Penny.

“Well… You two are a couple. And after last summer, I thought…” started saying Penny.

At the mention of the summer vacations before their seventh year, both Alice and Charlie became red in the face.

“Welp! Time for bed! Good night everyone!” said Alice as she pushed Penny inside their room.

“But, Miss, we have to unpack your luggage,” said one of the butlers.

“We can manage, thank you,” said Alice as she quickly grabbed the suitcases before closing the door.

“What just happened?” asked Barnaby as the guys entered their room.

“Not really sure… Wait, did you and Alice…” said Diego, staring at Charlie.

“Yup. They totally did,” said Andre, smirking.

“Do you have to tell him?” asked Charlie, frowning.

“Come on. It was all over your face when Penny alluded to it.”

“What did Alice and Charlie do?” asked Barnaby.

“The birds and the bees, Barnaby,” explained Diego.

“What’s so special about Transfiguration?” asked Barnaby, scratching his head.

“Ok, Barnaby and I will take the room, you two get the rollaway beds,” said Charlie as he entered the room.

“Hey! We didn’t even discuss it!” complained Andre.

“You two can’t mind your own business, so you deserve the rollaway beds,” replied Charlie, slamming the door behind him.

“I think we went a bit too far with Charlie,” said Diego, sitting at the edge of his bed.

“Meh, he’ll get over it,” replied Andre, shrugging as he dropped his bag on his bed.

“Huh… Guys?” said Barnaby, standing in front of the bedroom door.

“What?” asked Diego and Andre.

“You think I can go in there even if Charlie just slammed the door in my face?”

A/N #2: Hope you enjoyed this first part which is basically their arrival in Rio and some info about Alice and Charlie’s relationship. Part 2 coming soon.

[purpleyellow]

The audacity

Seventeen 14th member

Hayun’s masterlist

“Seventeen won’t take bs when it comes to Hayun”

Requested by: two (2) anons    

cw: offensive language

a/n: Feel free to share your thoughts with me. Requests are open! 💙

(to my brazilians around, this gif is svt’s version of ninguem solta a mão de ninguem)

The arrival of dancers made the practice room even more crowded and noisy than usual. It was one of the few times Seventeen worked with an outside dance team, and they happened to have a lot of new faces around, who needed time to figure out the staging and how things were working so far.

After they ran through the choreography a couple of times, the choreographer called in a break, allowing the huge group to instantly clear the middle space and separate themselves into small circles of conversations.

Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua instantly met each other and began chatting about dinner plans and whatnot. Slowly approaching Jun and Wonwoo, the oldest filled them in on what they're deciding until he starts searching for someone.

“So, we could order it on the next break and have someone grab it for us. Anyway, did anyone see Hayun?”

“Making friends, as usual,” Wonwoo comments, pointing at the other corner of the room where the girl was surrounded by four dancers.

“Hayun-ah” The leader waves her over and waits as she jogs to his side “We're talking about dinner, what do you think about-”

“Oh, those guys were talking about this new restaurant that opened downtown, I was thinking of tagging along with them” She points back at the group and watches as her members nod “But I can cancel, of course”

“No, go ahead. It's just a meal” Joshua goes to wave her off when Seungkwan approaches them with crossed arms.

“Yeah. Just a meal. Until she's suddenly ditching us during the holidays and moving out with her new friends” The boy pouts, turning his face away from the group. Hayun reaches up to ruffle his hair before landing a soft slap.

“Says the dude who is friends with half of the entertainment industry” Ignoring his eye roll, she turns back to the rest of their little huddle “Well, if nobody else will feel betrayed”

“I was kidding” Seungkwan whines and Scoups pushes her away from them “Stop being dramatic and go do your mingling”

Going back to the group of dancers, Hayun resumes chatting with them for a couple of minutes before the break is over.

After more hours of running over every tiny detail for the stage, the rehearsal finally ends and the scattering of people begins. Hayun takes a couple of minutes talking about minor adjustments with the members and just checking up on them before searching for the four friends she had made that evening.

“Hey, how do you guys plan on heading there?” She asks, taking a sip from her water bottle and missing the glances between the two boys and two girls.

“Actually, we might have to do it another day,” The girl closest to her says and flips a hair strand off of Hayun's shoulder. “We got pretty tired from this last session”

“And work tomorrow it's going to start pretty early, you know. It's best to let this go for today,” The boy nods to her before pulling out his phone from his pocket and slightly turning away from the idol.

“Yeah, I get it. That's okay, we'll reschedule it then” Hayun smiles and gives them a thumbs up “I'll head to the dorms, then. Have a good rest, and tomorrow we'll talk more”.

Sending her some quick waves and small smiles, the four dancers waited for Hayun to turn around before sharing an annoyed look and sighing.

The practice room slowly grows empty, only leaving Wonwoo and Vernon who lost an incredible game of rock, paper, scissors, and had to stay behind to clean up everything. Finally turning off the lights, the two boys head out into the hallway and spot a group of four people standing by the entrance.

“Aren't those the people Hayun was talking to earlier,” Vernon asks quietly before a voice from the group reaches them.

“Why is this damn cab taking so long? We should have let that airhead tag along”.

“Agreed. She would have talked our ears off, but at least we would have made it to the club already”.

Sharing a look, the two idols stop walking and listen closely to understand if the dancers are talking about what the boys think they're talking about.

“That was so stupid. Why would you invite her in the first place? She's so annoying”.

“I mean, having an idol considering you a friend would be fun, right? Especially with the Christmas season coming up. Can you imagine the gifts she would buy us?”

“Yeah, dude. We wouldn't even need to worry about paying for stuff anymore. Just have Hayun tag along anywhere and, boom, no more tabs to pay.”

“But also, no more functioning eardrums”

“No, you have a point. She seems like she'd give us her credit card password on the third time we hung out. Not to mention, looking at her position in contrast with ours. You don't even have to befriend her, but be on her good side, and she'll make sure to give us more gigs within Pledis”.

Standing frozen, Wonwoo and Vernon listened to everything they were saying and shared looks of disbelief. Having enough of it, the oldest cleared his throat and slung his bag, making it hit his own back with enough force to make a thumping sound.

“Let's go, Vernon,” He ignored the four people standing before them with wide eyes and resumed walking. Once shoulder to shoulder with one of the dancers, Wonwoo stopped again and said while looking ahead, “Next time, be careful of whom you're talking about”.

Vernon, on the other hand, made eye contact with each dancer before raising one eyebrow and following the oldest. After closing the car door, he groaned annoyed, “Can you believe they had… ”

“… the fucking audacity” Jeonghan places his cup on the table, face showcasing utter disgust after Wonwoo told him what they had listened before leaving the Pledis building.

“Show me who those people are again tomorrow. I'll make sure they never step inside our practice room, ever again,” Hoshi points out.

“Is there a way of not having them tomorrow? I'm afraid Scoups Hyung might commit murder” Dokyeom brought attention to the leader standing on the corner of the kitchen.

Looking like he was plotting an illegal act, Seungcheol scoffs and pushed himself away from the cabinets. “The bare minimum you would expect from someone is that they can be professional. I swear, those people are getting an earful for talking about Hayun within a billion-meter ratio from where I work”.

“It's best to let it rest until tomorrow's performance is done. After we'll probably never see them again, so there's not much point causing any visible disturbance.” Laying a hand on the leader's arm, Woozi tried to make some sort of sense, but all it did was cause Scoups to roll his eyes.

“We can't just act like nothing happened”

“We also can't change anything about the choreography until then” Hoshi butts in and takes a breath trying not to jump in the 'let's hunt them down' train.

“They already know Wonwoo and Vernon heard them trash-talking her, so I'm not letting them have it easy tomorrow.” Jeonghan rolls his eyes and pointed to both Woozi and Hoshi, “I'm speaking my mind the first moment I see those sons of bitches, you're free to wait until the show's over”.

“About that, I don't think we should tell Hayun what happened” Joshua, who had been quiet the entire time, speaks, drawing attention to him. “Not until, as you said, the show is over, and we won't see them again. You know that she's probably going to get disappointed about it”.

“And you expect her to not go running to meet her new 'friends' once we arrive at the venue?” Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, but Mingyu shakes his head and backs the older up.

“We just have to keep her entertained around us. Fill in Dino, Seungkwan, and Myungho later, and have them help with making sure the group doesn't run into her”.

Raising his hand, Vernon casually mumbles “Maybe don't tell Seungkwan, he won't be able to hide his feelings about the whole thing”

“Myungho won't either” Jun comments and the room falls silent at the sound of the remaining members chatting and approaching the kitchen.

“Wow, you make a meeting and forget to call in the main characters” Hayun laughs walking through the room and opening the fridge for a beer “So, when's the food arriving?”

~

Hayun is sitting on the makeup chair, casually watching Scoups and Jeonghan whispering to each other from the mirror's reflection, when a hand lands on her shoulder and another holds out a smoothie for her.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Joshua sits on the chair next to her while Mingyu punctures the drink's lid with a straw.

Without taking her eyes off the mirror, she nods with her head to it. “Those two are up to something”

“Scoups and Jeonghan Hyung? Nah, they're always like that. Sharing secrets and stuff,” Mingyu giggles, shoving the straw inside her mouth and shifting to stand in front of the mirror. “Cute nail polish, when did you have time to get it done?”

“Oh, these are acrylics. This lady was just putting them on” Hayun falls into his trap and began analyzing the design with some occasional comments from the boys.

Peace has seemingly set inside the dressing room, yet it doesn't last long until Dino's loud “Uh?” caught the attention of the members, who turned to see what he and Vernon were doing.

Trying to shut the youngest up, Vernon makes it very obvious to the guys that he had just filled Dino in with the “frenemies” situation. Most of them try to brush it off and not bring more attention to it. Seungkwan, however, approaches them by, very loudly, asking what's up.

“What are you talking about?” He boringly fixes up his outfit. Vernon can feel the burning eyes of Jeonghan on his skull as he tries to deviate the conversation to another topic.

“Did you go see catering already? I heard they had a coffee machine”.

“Wait. Does he not know what happened?” Dino fails to read the room properly and instigates the older boy.

“What happened? Why is everyone sharing secrets all of a sudden? Is the thing you're discussing why Scoups Hyung seems ready to jump someone”.

The timing of events can't be worse, as the makeup artist taps Hayun's shoulder to let her know they were done. Within seconds, the girl gets up and turns to where the three youngest were standing.

“What's with the gossiping? Did Vernon lose his airpods again?” She brushes away from Joshua as he tried to hold her in place and waves off Mingyu when, in a panic, he suggests they should check out the pigeons outside.

“What? No! I mean, yeah! How unfortunate, isn't it?” Vernon jumps around his answers and tries looking for anyone willing to help him out.

“Just tell her about it” Approaching them from the door, Jeonghan, now without the leader's company, shrugs his shoulders, making Hayun raise an eyebrow.

“Jeonghan, at least wait until the day is over,” Joshua speaks through his teeth and the boy rolls his eyes.

“Well, she already knows something is up, and to be fair I don't know what good hiding this will bring. At least, if she feels like doing something about it, she'll have the chance right now”.

“Do something about it? Hadn't we agreed that the best is to wait until the performance is over and just never see them again?”

“What even are you talking about?” Hayun shuts them both up and Jeonghan and Joshua turned to her with annoyed expressions, “Don't even look at me like that. You're the ones mentioning me as if I'm not in the room”.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, Joshua tilts his head a little and speaks softly, “Trust me for a moment here, it's best if you brush it aside. Until later at least, and then we can settle it as you wish”.

“Wha- Just spill it out for fucks sake. I'm going to combust if you don't tell me right now whatever this all means,” Hayun puffs, punching his shoulder. Just as Joshua opens his mouth to say the same thing again, Jeonghan beats him and shoves himself in front of the girl.

“Do you recall those dancers you were planning to go out with yesterday? Yeah, well, turns out they're all little shits who were trash-talking you, and just overall talking crap, yesterday”

“Jeonghan” Joshua repressed the older who does nothing but wave him off.

“Doesn't matter what they said because you're nothing of it, and-” Adverting his eyes for a second, Jeonghan stares to the side, where half of Scoups' body is waving for him through the door. “And, and, you're amazing and all of that. So now go rest your awesome self while I go teach those punks a lesson”.

Zooming past her, Jeonghan runs to the door, where the leader is already back outside. Hoshi, Jun, Woozi, and DK, scream for him before also going out of the door. A very lost, Seungkwan, simultaneously tries to get Vernon to tell him what exactly the dancer said before while shouting for the older to wait for him to also speak his mind.

“I didn't want you to know about this before the performance, but-”

“Whatever, let's make sure nobody dies today” Hayun rolls her eyes and turns around, Wonwoo running from where he was watching everything and holding her by the shoulder.

“Do you want us to go fix that up? It's okay to give them the cold shoulder or just go off if you want to” Nodding, she keeps silent and walks out, bringing the rest of the guys behind her.

The8, who also had just found out about the situation, whispers to Vernon, “Can you believe they had the audacity?”

“I know, right?” The youngest whisper-yelled at him as they made it to the hallway and assessed the situation.

“The next time you even think about opening your mouth to talk about her-” Scoups had his finger pointing at the tallest dancer -who ironically had a few centimeters on him-, while the rest of the members stood next to him nodding and calmly listening to what the leader was saying.

“Oppa, just drop it,” Hayun shouts, walking past them and holding his shoulder.

Annoyingly, Scoups rolled his eyes and turned to her, “What do you mean, drop it?” Thinking for a second, he blinked and turned even more bothered, “Who even told you about this?”

The leader looked around until he found Mingyu, offending the tall guy who made an X in front of his body.

“Doesn't matter who told me. Let's just not lose time doing this” Brushing past him, Hayun now faced the dancers “Look, I'll teach you something right now, so grab it or drop it okay? I don't give a shit that you don't like me, or whatever, but at least be professional because all this situation did was teach me that none of you care about your careers. It's pretty clear by the angry puppy beside me that you just lost any chance of growing inside our brand, so keep this as a lesson and respect the artists you're working with. Also, once we're on stage put on a smile, so my fans won't be able to sense your shit”

“It should be pretty clear by what she said but you definitely don't have a chance to work with any Pledis artist again” Hoshi came from the end of the hallway alongside their manager and choreographer. The latter nodded and added.

“For the sake of the performance, you should all go back to your dressing rooms. You all said whatever was on your mind, so try to refocus during the last few minutes you have”.

“I didn't get to say what was on my mind” While the group was dispersing, DK mumbles on the side and Jun snorts.

“You had a chance, but all you did was stare at them and scowl until Scoups Hyung took the lead”

“I don't care about who said and who didn't say what they wanted” Hayun rolled her eyes, turning to the boys as they arrived in the room. Clasping her hands together, she brings them to her face and smiles, “You all care about me”.

“The fact you still doubted about it after years hurts me” Dokyeom held his chest and frowned, the girl laughs and goes to hug him.

“Group hug?” Seungkwan says uncertainly and Hoshi nods, dragging Woozi with him, “Group hug!”