#a sporty!rooster if you will?

[currentlybradshaw]

[libraryofantiquitea]

𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰, 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧.

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary: bradley loves your ass. that's it. that's the summary.

warnings: explicit, minors do not interact! vaginal fingering, rimming (female receiving), frottage.

word count: 2.3k

author's notes: from now, and until the end of time, thanks to the creator coven! love how we all mutually agreed that rooster was an ass man.

likes / comments / reblogs are very much appreciated! thank you for reading! ♥

From the moment you met Rooster, you knew that he was an “ass man.”

You met at the beach - he was out with his friends, and you were there with yours. You had been content to read your book and chat, gossip, enjoy the sun and each other’s company, and he had been tossing a football around with his friends. Said football landed on your towel, you and your two friends letting out startled shrieks. It was Bradley who approached, all smiles and all apologies, and you were instantly fucked.

The two friend groups ended up spending the rest of the day together, with Bradley’s friend Jake convincing the three of you to join in some football with them. None of you were particularly sporty, but it was more or less an excuse for the boys to get close to the three of you (although their friend Natasha had her eye on your best friend, and you knew for a fact that if Natasha had asked, she could have her).

Bradley was particularly keen on grabbing at you, and picking you up whenever you had the ball. He also playfully smacked your behind a few times, but he seemed to do that with everyone. Though at one point he threw you over his shoulder and gave your ass a playful smack. You would have stopped him if you hadn’t liked it so much.

The day had bled into the night, and he took you home at the end of it. He threw you over his shoulder again as he carried you into his house, and then tossed you onto his bed. 

It had been a couple of months since that day and you’d barely left.

—

It was a lazy Sunday morning, the kind that the two of you were rarely afforded. You’d slept in, convincing Bradley to forgo his usual morning jog, made waffles and coffee, and sprawled out on the couch together doing a crossword. It had been absolutely perfect.

Morning was beginning to blend into the afternoon, and you were quite content to do absolutely nothing with the rest of your day. Bradley had done a bit of lawn work and was throwing himself through a shower, while you laid in bed, reading a book. 

“How was your shower, babe?” you asked idly, focusing on your book when you heard Bradley enter the bedroom.

You’d shifted positions in bed about five times before ultimately settling onto your stomach, which would likely only be comfortable for another few minutes. When Bradley didn’t answer, you looked over your shoulder, finding him standing at the foot of the bed, smiling at you.

“Babe?” you asked, laughing a little at him. “What’s up?”

“That ass,” he replied, grinning at you. “I walk in and you’re just flaunting that thing.”

You laughed again, turning back around onto the bed, eyes scanning the pages of your book. “Babe, I can assure you that I don’t flaunt it. It’s just fucking there.”

Bradley had walked over to the side of the bed that you were laying on, the dresser containing his clothes on that side of the room. He looked over at you, grinning coyly, before turning his attention fully back to you. Bradley set a knee down on the bed beside you, you made a startled noise, and suddenly Bradley was straddling the backs of your legs.

“How’s the book?” he asked, leaning over you and whispering into your hair.

“Mmm, it’s good. Not great though.”

“Fantastic,” Bradley added, reaching for your book and tossing it across the room.

“Bradley!” you shrieked, moving to roll over so that you could face him, only to have one of his strong hands on your shoulder and pushing you back down onto the bed.

“You said it wasn’t great!”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted you to throw it across the bedroom!”

Bradley covered your body with his, still damp from the shower, and you let out a playful squawk, trying to get away from him but truly you had no intentions of being anywhere other than under his weight. And given how intent Bradley seemed on keeping you in one place, attempting to get away from him was a fool’s errand.

“I don’t buy for a moment that you’re actually trying to get away,” Bradley murmured, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. You giggled a little as the hairs of his moustache brushed against your skin; it always both delighted and tickled you in every possible way. “Besides, this is all your fault.”

You playfully scoffed, feeling Bradley move back onto his knees. “How on earth is this my fault, Bradshaw?” you asked incredulously, trying to look over your shoulder. Bradley replied with a playful smack to your ass. “Oh, I see.”

“These shorts that you’re wearing leave absolutely nothing to the imagination,” Bradley said, hooking strong fingers into the waistband and beginning to tug them over your bottom. You smiled and bit at your lip, wriggling just a little so that Bradley could help you out of your shorts. “They’re far too short and far too tight,” he added, though there seemed to be a headiness to his voice. “You’re just better off without them.”

“I’m better off without them, or you’re better off without them?” you teased, gasping a little as your skin was exposed to the cooler air. You were wearing some rather revealing underwear beneath your shorts as well, more of your cheeks spilling out than they would in a common brief.

“Fuck,” Bradley rumbled, and you got the feeling that the playfulness that had encompassed the previous few minutes was giving way to something else.

He grabbed the globes of your ass firmly in his hands, kneading them with his fingers, pushing the flesh up and digging his blunt fingernails into them. You sighed, eyelids slipping closed, already forgetting what book you had even been reading before he’d sauntered into the bedroom.

“You’ve got such a pretty little ass,” Bradley murmured, delivering another little smack to one of your bottom. “Don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“I’m beginning to think that football ended up on my beach towel on purpose.”

“Nah, Bob just can’t pass for shit.”

You laughed, the sound a little breathless as you felt Bradley shifting behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you watched him pull off the towel wrapped around his waist, and were greeted with the sight of his hard cock smacking up against his stomach, already looking incredibly wet - and not because he’d just gotten out of the shower.

“Bradley,” you sighed, laying your cheek down on the pillow.

He fisted his cock lazily a few times, his eyes roaming over your back and your ass, before he was swallowing thickly and pushing your legs apart. Bradley settled between your legs, gently kissing the curve of your spine, the dip just before the swell of your ass. His hands gripped you gently, reverently, and you shifted the tiniest bit in an attempt to get some friction against your clit.

“Can I, sweetheart?” Bradley hummed against your skin, warm from a morning of laziness and warmth beneath your comfiest clothes.

He didn’t need to elaborate.

“Yes.”

You listened to something that sounded like a groan and a sigh of relief escape past his lips before he gripped at your underwear, shimmying them down your legs. You carefully helped to kick them off without kicking him in the face, the crotch, or anywhere else for that matter.

The only thing about being on your stomach that you didn’t care for was that you couldn’t see him. You couldn’t see his face, attempt to figure out what he was thinking, or see what was coming next. That was part of what delighted you, but Bradley already sounded so wrecked and he hadn’t done anything but kiss you and take your bottoms off.

Bradley’s lips brushed against the swell of one of your cheeks, and you pursed your lips together tightly. He’d grabbed, slapped, groped, and spanked your ass plenty of times since you’d started seeing one another, but as far as you could recall this was the first time that he had kissed your ass. Those kisses soon turned into playful nips, and it being a sensation that you weren’t accustomed to, you wriggled against the sheets once more.

“Okay, sweetheart?” Bradley asked, pausing in his ministrations.

You nodded mutely, before responding with a broken “yes.”

Suddenly, he was spreading your cheeks apart, and you inhaled sharply. You had a vague idea of what you were in for, but nothing could have prepared you for Bradley’s tentative tongue against your asshole. The sound that came out of you was one that you hadn’t made before, and then that had you making another unfamiliar sound.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Bradley rasped, amazed. “I’ve barely done anything.”

“Don’t care,” you moaned. “Feels good. Different.”

Bradley pressed a kiss against the back of one of your thighs and smiled against your skin before returning to where he had been moments before. You clutched at the sheets beneath your body as Bradley’s tongue gently laved against your hole, his hands kneading at your rear, fingers digging into the supple and soft flesh. He was soon tonguing at you more enthusiastically, the slip and slide of his tongue against you feeling and sounding deliciously improper.

You gasped his name, and pressed back against his face.

“Yes, that’s it,” Bradley groaned in approval. The gentle push and pull of his hands momentarily deviated into giving your ass another hearty smack, and you cried out, arching against the bed once more.

As if Bradley eating your ass wasn’t shocking and wonderful itself, he then did something completely unexpected. You heard him spit before you felt it against your hole.

“Did you -” God, you sounded absolutely wrecked and were still writhing against the bed, “- did you just spit on me?”

“It can get a little dry back here,” Bradley replied, an air of mirth in his voice before his tongue was dragging against you once more.

New kink unlocked. You needed Bradley to spit on you a) from now on, and b) on and into other orifices as well as your asshole.

For the first time, the brush of his moustache against your skin didn’t leave you giggling, but left you wanting more. Every sense felt heightened, and that was before the tip of Bradley’s tongue was breaching you.

“Oh my god,” you whined, pressing your forehead against the mattress. If anyone had asked you before that day how you felt about your partner rimming you, you probably would’ve been ambivalent toward it. Now you were sure it was going to feature on your list of requests in the bedroom. You figured that Bradley wouldn’t have any protests.

Just as Bradley’s tongue pressed inside, he was dragging two fingers along the wetness between your legs. Relieved to have the contact, you threw your head back and gasped, before pushing back - onto his thick fingers, onto his tongue.

“Bradley,” you gasped, fucking yourself slowly on his fingers.

“You’re so fucking dirty,” Bradley groaned, plunging his tongue back into you, his fingers hooking into you in just the right spot. “Fuck baby, your pretty little cunt is just pulling my fingers in.”

You were going to say something clever, but he ripped a fervent wail from you instead. There were a cacophony of noises in the bedroom - your cries, Bradley’s fingers plunging into your cunt, his mouth devouring you through his own gentle moans - and it quickly became too much. You bent toward him as you came, trapping his face and his fingers exactly where you wanted them, exactly where he had put them.

“God,” Bradley gasped, pulling his fingers and his tongue from you, though he seemed reluctant to do so.

You were laying against the sheets, mewling as you felt Bradley moving again to straddle the backs of your thighs. Through your post-orgasm haze, you glanced over your shoulder to watch as he situated his cock between your cheeks, wet with saliva, and some of your wetness that he’d dragged there.

Mouth opened to speak, Bradley answered your question before you asked it, hands grabbing at the globes of your ass and pushing them closer together, dragging the head of his cock against your hole, and fucking the tight channel he’d created.

“Baby,” Bradley whined, head thrown back. “Baby, holy fuck.”

You laid there squirming, feeling a little oversensitive after coming, as Bradley rutted against you, fucking between your cheeks. Knowing he had already been far gone while eating you out and fucking your with his fingers, you weren’t at all shocked when you felt him twitching against you, fingers digging into your ass, hot come shooting across your back.

Bradley fell forward, catching himself from falling directly onto you by bracing his hands against the bed. You were still undulating against the bed, pressing back against him, and he shuddered, turning his head and pressing a kiss against your cheek.

“Sorry that was brief,” he murmured, breathless as he planted kisses on you everywhere that his mouth could reach.

You turned your head too, kissing Bradley awkwardly on his mouth, tongue licking at his bottom lip. When you pulled away, you were still searching for something to say, not because you couldn’t think of anything, but because your brain felt like it had been through a food processor.

“Bradley,” you began, looking into his blown brown eyes, “you spit on me.”

“What?”

“You spit on me!” you laughed.

He wasn’t certain if he was in trouble or not, and managed a small laugh. “Was that okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, that was okay,” you chuckled, your hand curling behind his head, fingers working their way slowly through his curls, scratching at his scalp. “I don’t know what I’m more mad about though. That it turned me on, or it took me this long to figure it out.”

/end.

[artzychic27]

For the Actor AU, how did they feel abt the canon heroes' outfits? If they could, how would they have modified them?

Marinette: Basic as fuck! It looks like I’m wearing footie pajamas! If I were in charge of my costume, I’d give myself a full-on punk look because Ladybug’s are some badass motherfuckers. Oh, and boots that have soles equipped with a shock-absorbing cushion, and a heel that contains a reinforced spring to soften the shock whenever I land. And… Maybe a backpack shaped like ladybug wings to hold my Lucky Charms and anything I need to collect for my plan.

Adrien: Less leather! That stuff shrinks, and a full leather bodysuit is not comfortable. Also, because of the cat holders’ powers, it would be cool if heroes had some sort of medical supplies on them just in case, like stored in a utility belt. And I’m with Mari, those boots sound badass. What else?… Oh, definitely add some more color instead of just basic black.

Alya: Well, the Fox doesn’t seem like a combative hero due to the powers. I see Rena Rouge as a distraction, really, so her outfit wouldn’t be one of those “ready for battle” types. Here’s what I’m thinking, one of those noir-film type outfits. The hat covers my face a bit to give me an air of mystery, and the outfit would look almost casual that no villain would suspect me.

Nino: I mean… Carapace’s look is cool. It’s alright. I’m liking the goggles, but… I’d prefer if he had armor. He’s the fucking turtle hero! He should be ready to take any blow that a villain sends his way!

Rose: Where to begin? Look, you all know me; I love pink more than the next guy, but… Sometimes too much is too much. The Pig Miraculous strikes me as… More farmhand than ballerina. Yee, I know, the heroes come with a tambourine, but come on! While I do love the skirt, I’d trade it in for overalls, either shorts or a skirt. Oh, and add some black in there, too. Daizzi has a black circle around his eye, let him be represented!

Juleka: Studded jacket. That is all.

Luka: Oh, honey, either give me a hood so I can look like a cobra or get the fuck away from me with that outfit.

Myléne: The mouse strikes me as more of the elegant type, I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the pastel pink mixed with the grey, but I see Polymouse wearing skirts over Pigella. But, that’s just my opinion.

Ivan: Honestly, I’m fine with the canon design for Minotaurox. Yeah, he’s got pockets and padding, I-I like it. And if you show me a better design, I’ll happily take a look at it.

Marc: … I think all of the effort went into making Rooster Bold’s costume. He’s got rooster hair, the little tallons on the back of his boots, and a fucking tailcoat! He and Mayura are the only ones to have tailcoats! I’m not complaining, though. I… I actually like it, but it is a nightmare putting on and taking off that wig.

Nathaniel: Well, I can say I sort of know how some of the girls feel, because that suit was tight as hell! You could see my hip dip! Also, I would’ve liked to have a different hairstyle and maybe some color, because I am the only male redhead around for miles. Oh, and climbing boots becuase, I’m a goat, duh.

Alix: … Do I need to say it? Okay, give me some active wear! I’m traveling through a shit ton of different timelines! I need someone sporty and active when I’m on the go. Also, I’ll need a backpack like Marinette.

Kim: Not hearing any complaints from me! I liked Roi Singe, but being Scarlet Beetle is way cooler!

Max: The glasses can easily come off. What I need is a high collar or a bandana that can cover the lower half of my face in case my glasses become askew or someone is able to place my identity because all I have on my face are some stupid glasses! God, I’m so glad I’m doing this new show now.

Chloé: Oh, I just want wings.

Zoé: Same.

Sabrina: Can mine just not look like my clothes, please?! I’ll take whatever, just not that!

Kagami: I would prefer if I had some form of armor and not a spandex bodysuit. It would need to be lightweight but also durable to allow me to travel faster, of course.

[amjustagirl]

castles in the air: chapter 3 

chapters: one.// two.// three.// four.// five.// six.// seven.// eight.// nine.// ten.// 

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x f! reader  genre: uni romantic dramedy, oodles of fluff  wc:  warnings: none  summary: kuroo is your pain in the ass classmate. nothing more, really.

Kuroo Tetsuro is a menace. 

He laughs too loud, straddles the line between human and hyena in his amusement so often that you can’t go out in public without being stared at by a group of chattering obaa-chans, as if his rooster head didn’t attract enough attention anyway. He lobs insults like it’s method of self-care - be it Sato-san, who he’s termed as a self-important dickhead after one too many flubbed balls, or Daishou Suguru, who he labels a snake bastard, a nickname he mutters often after a practice match with said wing spiker’s university. 

“Could you try to be a little more polite”, you point out after he spends five minutes during a precious study session grumbling about Daishou cheating yet again, or Sato flubbing a receive and blaming it on his block. It’s hypocritical of you, you know - considering you have your own choice of insults for him, but it’s the principle of things. 

“I highly doubt your ears are too tender for my words, considering you called Sato a misogynistic prig to his face when he asked why you’re so good at math - I quote - even though you're a girl”, he replies, smirking in delight having called your bluff. 

“He deserved it!” 

“Well”, he points out, utterly reasonably. “Daishou and Sato deserve to be insulted by me too.” 

At the very least he’s alright to work with. More than alright, really, if you set the bar to Sato-san, who spent project meetings drooling on the library bench, who couldn’t even read the script you prepared for him with suitable gusto. You even had to step in to answer all the questions to salvage your grade. Kuroo’s smart, you knew that from the minute he answered a professor’s question perfectly during a lecture, despite his eyes drooping, half mast, despite the question requiring a series of tricky mental calculations. And he’s responsible enough to pull his weight and then some, putting his devious mind to work to charm both the professor and his imagined marketing audience, even if you might have ethical qualms about his tactics working too well in real life. 

So alright, Kuroo Tetsuro is a menace, even if he’s a pretty good work partner. You’ll give him that. 

It still doesn’t explain why you’ve let him worm his way into your life so easily. 

You’ve never been one to make friends easily. Books, not actual human beings, have always been easier to get along with. After all, if you don’t like a particular storyline, you can always just put the book down. It’s messier with a person, especially when you have to maintain a veneer of social proprietary that your mother never quite drilled down into you. It’s exhausting to navigate social niceties and the hierarchy in school, pretend to be interested in the banal things your classmates were interested in - boys, make-up, dresses - you’d much rather hide in some corner and finish your lessons and homework so you’d have time after school to lose yourself in your books and dream about some faraway land instead.

So it’s especially queer that you consider Kuroo a friend, especially when he clearly falls outside of the mould of your usual friends - popular, sporty, attractive (did you just admit that? You’ll excuse it as a brain fart -), even though he’s secretly a nerd deep down inside. It must be the amount of time you were forced to spend with him, all in the name of acing your projects. But there’s no excuse for project meetings blooming into study sessions with him, he integrates himself with your usual study group, and suddenly, you realise you’re taking turns to foot the bill at the ramen store you frequent together at least once a week. 

He’s even managed to batter through your defenses to breach your last bastion of privacy, your bedroom - to study, that’s his feeble excuse when the librarian kicks the volleyball boys’ team out for being too loud. 

“What on earth is this”, Kuroo scrunches his nose up in mock disgust, pointing a finger at the rows and rows of books stacked in your tiny dorm room, arranged neatly by author’s name, colourful covers brightening up the otherwise dull, dreary room. This is precisely why you shrieked and barred him entry, but he wedged his foot into the opening you’d left when you stuck your head out to check who exactly is banging on your door at exactly ten fifty-two on a Monday night, and refused to let up until you gave in, flinging yourself on your bed in defeat. 

“They’re books” you say, flopping back on your bed. “Surely you’ve seen one before?” 

He doesn’t take the bait, lifts the most luridly illustrated tome to the light. You spot a chiselled chest on the cover, oiled to perfection. 

Oh no. 

“Romance on the seven seas? Seriously? Little miss top student reads trashy romance novels like that?” he leers down at you, pointing at your beloved pirate-chan series of books, purchased as a seventeenth birthday present by A-chan, your best friend from high school. You thought it looked kind of trashy, but you got swept off your feet by the thrilling tale of a princess, kidnapped by a bunch of pirates while sailing to her fiance’s kingdom, and ends up finding her love for sailing and the very dashing pirate captain.  

You crouch on your bed, using it as a springboard to launch yourself at him. He dodges easily, laughing as you jump up and down, trying to reach your beloved book to no avail. 

“What’s wrong with a little escapism?” you snarl, snatching up a pen, brandishing it at him like a cutlass. “Pirate-chan has spent many happy hours with me alright -”    

“Giving you the complete wrong idea about romance, I bet”, he snarks.

“Giving me the right idea of what to expect from romance”, you retort.

He tugs at your ponytail, laughing as he finally drops the book into your waiting hands. “I’ve never pegged you as a hopeless romantic.” 

Neither did you, but you’ve been sucked into a world of fictional romance and horrendously dashing leading men, and it’s just nice to build your castles in the air, imagining yourself in the shoes of the heroines, dreaming of gallant knights and princes in shining armour.  

“If I don't find romance in real life, at least let me entertain myself with my imagination. You’re not allowed to judge me, Kuroo Tetsuro - not with the amount of shitty chemistry jokes you’ve subjected me too!” 

“Touche”, he chuckles. “At least I’ve steered clear of making jokes about the periodic table - they’re not exactly my element.” 

“Well, who knows. Maybe romance might be your element!” 

At that he tosses his head back, laughs even though there’s a trace of a sneer on his face. “I’m too down to earth for that, princess, so I doubt it. But you can try me”. 

His expression should deter you, you should give him your most ridiculous novel just to laugh off your reading habit as a joke, but you’re so intent on proving your point that you take him at face value, rifling through your collection, running your finger along paper covers to extract your all time favourite. You picked up on a whim one day after school and fell in love with the anthology of tenderly written stories of lovelorn girls and boys who’ve never been taught to love, of heartbreak and learning how to grow in spite of and because of love.

“Here you go”, you lay it gently on his lap. “Let me know if you like it.” 

“Will I be moved to tears when I read it?” 

“That’s up to you”, you tell him. “If you’re a cold, unfeeling robot, incapable of love, probably not I suppose.” 

“Maybe I am”, he replies, a little too seriously. It makes you regret your harsh words, even if you meant it as a gentle jibe at him. 

“Nah, I don’t think so. I bet a ramen dinner that you’ll end up sobbing over your pillow when you finally finish it.”

“You’re on - I want the full works, extra bamboo shoots, eggs, char siu, the whole lot, and I don’t want to hear you complain that I eat too much.” 

“Oh my god - greedy guts!”

“Hey! You made the bet, not me - “ 

“You better not lie - I’m going to test you on which bits actually made you cry, cos I don’t trust you -”  

You’re relieved when you both slip easily into your usual pattern of bickering, when he laughs, loud and unrestrained, even though your next door neighbour bangs on your wall to tell you both to keep it down. 

Kuroo Tetsuro is a menace, especially when he’s his naggy, old-man self. 

“Did you just go out jogging alone?” He demands when he catches you coming back from another early morning job around the campus. It’s one of the few hobbies you’ve kept since high school, going for a run when the sun still slumbers, when the world is at its quietest, because it’s in the near silence that your frazzled mind can reset. 

“What about it? Aren’t you getting ready to go jogging yourself?”

His tracksuit and running shoes are a dead giveaway of his hypocrisy, but his frown deepens. You want to scratch the itch to tell him he has no right to tell you what to do anyway, but he beats you to it. 

“What if something happened to you while you’re out running by yourself? It’s so early no sane person’s even awake - what if you fell down and twisted your ankle. What then? Or worse - what if some stalker decided to steal you away, which come to think of it, would be pretty easy considering no one would even hear you call for help -” 

His fears are unwarranted considering Tokyo’s crime rate, and he scoffs when you tell him so. 

“Low crime doesn’t mean no crime, sweetheart. Not to mention low crime rates don’t account for stray pebbles or cracked pavements that can trip you up.”

“You make it sound as if I don’t carry my phone around with me when I go for a run. What do you take me for - a fool?” 

He stares down at you, indicating that the answer to your rhetorical question is a resounding yes. 

It’s not as if he’s your dad - not that your old man could’ve stopped you from doing exactly what you want, he’s always been over-indulgent with his precocious oldest daughter, but you haven’t accounted for the fact that Kuroo Tetsuro is as obstinate as you, possibly more so. Because the very next time you open your door to put on your running shoes, his door swings open, and he steps out, stretching languidly. 

You curse the hapless school administrator who assigned you to a room three doors down from Kuroo Tetsuro. You ask the gods to ensure that he only drinks lukewarm water in summer, ice cold water in winter. You ask the gods to smite him with the indignity of wearing his shirts inside out, the minor annoyance of never being able to match his socks. 

“I didn’t ask you to babysit me!” 

“It’s too early to quarrel”, he complains, shooing you forward. 

“I’m not quarrelling! You - you just leave me alone, you hear me?!” 

Kuroo doesn’t even bother replying, waits until you’ve tied your laces before silently following you, a looming shadow that stands out even in the blue-dark moments before dawn. You set a pace that should be punishingly slow to a lifelong athlete like him, but he doggedly keeps pace, follows you until your breath puffs out like smoke, white in the pink-gold rays of dawn, and you refuse to concede defeat when even you return to the dorm. 

“You’re wasting your time by following me”, you tell him, annoyed. “I’ll be fine alone, I’ve always been -” 

“It isn’t a waste of time to make sure a friend of mine doesn’t end up dead in a ditch out of sheer stubbornness”, he replies, wiping his sweat casually, the first light of the sun catching the gold flecks in his amber eyes, making your mouth go dry. 

That’s the first argument you willingly lose to him. 

You make his life easier by waking up an hour later instead of your usual hour, and you try to actually set a pace that leaves him a little breathless, even though you’re usually wheezing on the floor by the end of it. But it’s not too bad to have a companion on your runs - the pavement is wide enough, he teases, but he has the uncanny knack of knowing when to fall quiet when you need the time to clear your mind, usually when schoolwork or insensitive classmates get you down, and knowing when to monologue about his life as a distraction whenever you’re on the verge of giving up on your jog. 

“So Sato-san is a dick but he’s a pinch server - you know what that means right”, you nod, because yes, Kuroo has spent many mornings explaining each and every position in volleyball, since he’s the only one between the pair of you who can actually talk while running, his fitness level is scary - “so I gotta practise our serve and block move with him, even though it’s such a pain to hear him run his mouth. And I actually have to humour him because he’s a senior. Kenma has a point, hating hierarchy in sports clubs -” 

“How’s practice going, now that your competition’s coming up soon?” 

“Absolutely brutal”, he pouts exaggeratedly, but there’s a spark in his eyes that suggests otherwise. “It’s been laps and blocking drills non-stop, and my obaa-chan thinks I’m gonna develop knee problems from jumping so much.” You agree with his very wise obaa-chan, and he pats his own abused knees sympathetically when you tell him so. 

“But we’re gonna take championships, you just wait and see!”

You don’t really need to wait and see, because Waseda has taken the championship the year before that, and the year before that, the glass cabinets in front of the volleyball gym groaning under the weight of gold trophies. The boys’ team is stacked with talent, and the fact that Kuroo is even a starting regular is pretty amazing, but you’re not going to deal with his preening if you tell him so. 

“I’ll be sure to watch it when it’s broadcast on TV. Though if I have to see Sato-san’s ugly face, I might throw a shoe at the screen, no promises.”

“TV?” Kuroo laughs incredulously, as if the past hundred years of technological advancement mean nothing to him. “You should come watch it in real life, it’s so much better. Man, the tension of matches is unrivalled - plus you get to hear the spikes being slammed onto the floor, react to thrilling receives in real time - courtesy of me, of course. TV doesn’t do volleyball matches any justice.” 

“I couldn’t get tickets”, you admit when he’s finally done gushing about the magic inherent in volleyball competitions. You’re not lying. Most of the tickets were snapped up by Waseda’s very dedicated cheer team and fan club, such is the popularity of the boys’ team. You were in class and missed the rush, but you weren’t about to let Kuroo in on the secret that you were eager enough to watch that you cleared your schedule in advance. 

“You couldn’t get any tickets?” He repeats blankly before his eyes widen, mouth falling open. You decide you really hate that stupid expression on his face, the one that wavers between pure shock and unadulterated delight. “Wait a minute - you tried to get tickets? You’d willingly watch the matches? You?!” 

“That’s it I’ve changed my mind” you shoot back, crossing your arms defensively. “I’m not watching your shitty matches, hell no -” 

“Will you really come, if I get tickets for you?” 

For all his teasing, his words are heartbreakingly sincere. You gulp a mouthful of cold air, waits until it settles uneasily at the bottom of your belly. 

“Yes”, you say, so quietly that your own ears have to strain to pick it up. 

He doesn’t smirk at you as you feared, just shoots you a smile that’s actually open, brighter than the first rays of the sun peeking over the horizon, so bright that you actually have to drop your gaze on the ground. 

That probably marks the point when Kuroo Tetsuro becomes a menace to your heart. 

True to his word, he produces a ticket for you, telling you that of course the players would get their own tickets to distribute to family and friends, and you do end up going, because you promised, after all. Never mind the amount of prep work that you’ve insisted to yourself you must do before exams roll around, never mind the ridiculous amount of sleep you’re giving up, just to spend hours watching a friend of yours play a game where twelve grown men chase after a colourful ball. 

You gasp when he leaps to slam the ball into the ground, the earth shaking at the point of impact. You watch as he defends with dogged patience, attacks with deadly precision, confounds the blockers across the net with a shit eating grin that you realise, to your horror, you’ve grown to become very fond of. 

It’s also just your luck to have chosen a seat that’s in front of an elderly couple, decked out in Waseda’s dark maroon, holding placards with Kuroo’s name brightly emblazoned across it. You wouldn’t have approached them during the break if not for the way they both look around helplessly at the sprawling arena, obviously lost in the sea of screaming fans and over-enthusiastic players from opposing teams. 

“I’m a friend of Kuroo”, you bow politely. “Can I help you?” 

Unlike Kuroo, they’re exceedingly sweet, nodding and asking you where the washroom is (you immediately grasp obaa-chan by the arm, offering to walk her there when you notice she’s a little unsteady on her feet), where they can get some refreshments (you insist they stay put, run to the onigiri stand to buy whatever they desire, your heart warmed by the fact that they pat your cheeks and call you a kind girl). You sit by them for the rest of the matches that day, cheering with as much gusto as them, Kuroo’s grandfather bellowing every time his grandson scores a kill block, Kuroo’s grandmother leaning back with satisfaction when he pulls off another thrilling save.

Two hours pass in a flash, pins and needles stab your legs, making you yelp when you finally stand up. 

“Will you tell Tetsuro that we’d like to say hi to him, if he has time? I’m sure dinner’s out of the question, he’ll have debriefs and meetings tonight, but we were hoping to see him at least.”

They remind you so strongly of your own grandparents that you don’t even dream of saying no to them. You make them promise to stay on their seats before ducking through the crowd, intent on locating one rooster headed boy so you can relay their message. 

“Kuroo!” 

He turns to you, still surrounded by his teammates. Sato sends you a withering look, and you reciprocate, expression darkening before realising you’ve stepped foot in a giant’s lair, but your trepidation vanishes when Kuroo greets you with his usual shit eating grin. You’re back on familiar ground. 

“Have I impressed you yet?” 

“Flirt with your fanclub, not me”, you retort, even though your heart’s beating at warp speed. “I’m here cos your grandparents wanna see you.” 

“Ah”, he replies, surprised. “You met them?” 

“They’re lovely, unlike you”, you inform him sourly, and he just cackles before telling you that he’ll be around to say hi to them if they stick around for a bit, and he does, loping up the stairs with his long legs to loop his arms around them, tips of his ears turning pink when his grandmother pinches his cheeks, when his grandfather ruffles his hair and tells him he’s proud of him.  

“I can’t stay for dinner, unfortunately”, he tells them with genuine regret on his face.

His grandmother shakes her head gently. “Don’t worry Tetsuro-chan. We’ll have dinner instead with your lovely friend - why haven’t you introduced her to us earlier..?” 

“Obaa-chan, don’t bother her, she’s probably busy -” 

“I’d love to”, you interrupt. Kuroo snaps his mouth shut, an unreadable expression on his face. “That is - if you don’t mind my company?” 

His grandparents assure you that they very much would not mind at all, and you’re swept off with them to a little diner serving delicious grilled saba over a bowl of fluffy rice. You see where Kuroo’s obsession with eating fish comes from now, as his grandfather leans back in his chair, burps softly in satisfaction having polished off the entire fish, bones and all, his grandmother chastising him for his lack of table manners in front of you. 

You laugh, telling them that hardly anything they could do could scare you off, given your inauspicious first meeting with their grandson. His grandmother shakes her head in resignation when you detail how he’d stolen your precious katsudon, and mutters that she’ll ban him from her dinner table on the weekend to teach him a lesson. 

Caught up in the moment, you smile wickedly. “There’s really no need for that. I stabbed him with my fork and made him buy dinner”. Then your smile drops, because there’s no way any grandparent would take kindly to their grandchild being stabbed, never mind that you did so with a kitchen implement - 

His grandfather cackles, the hyena type of laughter that sounds so eerily like Kuroo that you have to stop yourself from whipping your head around to scan the diner to see if Kuroo the younger decided to skip his team’s meetings and dinner to show up instead. He very obviously isn’t, and your shoulders drop from its place around your ears. 

“It’s good someone’s around to liven things up”, his grandma says. “Kuroo used to be such a quiet child until he made friends with Kenma-kun, and then his volleyball team - he was captain y’know? Such a good, responsible boy, and now I’m glad he’s met you too.”

“I -uh”, you think about the stories they’ve told you about Kuroo Tetsuro sketching his journey from a quiet obedient boy breaking out of his shell to his current, smirking, confident self - though from the sounds of it, he’s still their dutiful grandson whom they dote upon to no end. You’re truly glad Kuroo’s not around to hear you praise him, you’ll never live it down. “He’s a good friend. I’m glad to have met him.” 

His grandparents beam at you. 

It makes the decision to accompany them to a nearby shrine too easy, standing beside them as they bow deeply twice, clap their hands together solemnly, seeking the gods’ blessings for their precious grandson. You snatch up a victory charm when their backs are turned, dropping a couple of hundred yen coins into the temple’s coffers, because - well. You’re not ready to admit to yourself why you’re clutching said charm so tightly in your hand even when you wave Kuroo’s grandparents off, why you can barely look at him when you knock on the door at night to press said charm in his hand - 

(it’s just like your stories - the princess sending the knight fighting in her honour with a lock of her hair) 

“I didn’t want you to fall over and break a leg tomorrow”, you tell him. “Would be a waste, especially since you’ve already spent most of your time practising instead of studying.”  

“Then maybe you should’ve gotten a health charm instead of a victory charm”, he snorts, taking the colourful fabric from you. His thumb brushes against your palm, and you repress the shiver that creeps up your spine, but you’re helpless to stop the flicker of warmth against bare skin. 

“But thank you. I appreciate it.” He scratches the back of his head. “And thanks for taking care of my grandparents too.” 

“They’re very nice”, you answer, and in order to quell the rush of affection in your throat, you resort to your usual insults. “I don’t get what happened to you, in that case. Though I’m sure they tried their best.” 

You don’t really hear his indignant squawk that he turned out alright, thank you very much, because he’s standing far too close to you, and you’d really prefer not to babble whatever nonsense your first schoolgirl crush might possess you to say, something like how you’ve never noticed how pretty his eyes are, dark irises flecked with gold, swirling like a sun storm, how you’ve never noticed the perfect cupid’s bow in his lips, the cut of his cheekbones, sharp enough to cut marble. 

You just bid him goodnight and goodbye before running back to the refuge of your room, thankfully earning a break from him until the competition’s over, because he desperately needs to sleep before yet another round of matches the next day and the day after. You don’t get a chance to talk to him again until his team wins decisively, three-all against Chuo University, even though you spend the entirety of each of his matches gripping his grandmother’s arm in a death grip, his grandfather on the other side of her. 

The entire team is swarmed with well-wishers, and neither his grandparents nor you have any desire to wade through a sea of people, so you have yet another dinner with them, enjoying yourself thoroughly as they regale you with embarrassing stories of Kuroo when he was growing up, all over a hearty meal of rice and fish. 

He isn’t in his room when you return to the dorms. Unsurprising since he and his team will probably be up all night celebrating their win, hard fought as it was. You’re thankful for that, because you don’t think you can withstand the havoc his presence causes you, the confusion as to why the tips of your fingers start tingling when you watch him play, why you don’t feel the urge to slap his smirk off his face any longer, burning instead with the impulse to lean up on your toes and - 

Gods. 

You’re going to sleep right now, and wake up early for a run, hopefully without him so you can clear the cobwebs in your mind and get over this ridiculous - this ridiculous fixation on one Kuroo Tetsuro that you would do better without. 

Your phone lights up with a text. “Don’t go running in the morning without me!’ 

It’s a good thing your room is tiny, because all you really can muster is the energy for one large step before you flop, boneless on your bed. 

He calls your bluff and actually turns up on your doorstep when you crack the door open, ready for your usual run even though he’s visibly exhausted, dark smudges beneath his eyes. You thought you heard him (and some of his other teammates) stumble back into their rooms long past midnight. 

“Oh for the love of - you’re exhausted, I’m an adult, I can take care of myself, this is embarrassing -” 

He isn’t deterred by your protests, follows you down the steps, into the wide, open world, still too quiet, too dark. 

“And here I thought you’d stop to congratulate me first.” 

There’s something wrong with you for actually finding the smug grin directed at you attractive. You’d like to slap something, because it’s not fair that he’s making you feel like a lady in the romance novels, pining for her leading man - it’s not - it shouldn’t be your snarky, pain-in-the-ass of a classmate who never fails to annoy you with his snide comments and smug attitude and charming smirks and - help you are shunting your brain right into hell where it belongs - 

“Hellooooo? Cat got your tongue?”

“Congratulations”, you say flatly, before adding in a futile bid to return to your usual patterns of bickering and insults with him. “Y’know, your grandparents are so much sweeter than you.” 

“That means you find me somewhat sweet, that’s what I’m hearing.”

“You should clean your ears”, you snap, taking off into the dawn, hating that he catches up with you within a few strides. 

Kuroo Tetsuro is a menace to your heart, especially when you suspect it’s beating at maximum speed not because of your run, but because of him. 

m.list.~ taglist.~ a/n: fluffy goodness abounds, but does this state of affairs continue?

[aisakaab2]

Lunar Somnus

This is a story mine when I was 14 years old I try to translate to English I hope you like it

The life is such as a dark alley that when you step up on it lights up, that’s why sometimes pick up the wrong path. Just like you're the one that revolves around the future, there's times he can revolve around you, waiting for you with something you don't expect to happen. I know what I say, because everything started to revolve around me at some moment. Maybe it was there where those strange dreams that attacked me began on the nights when the night sky was not greeted by the silver sphere called the moon, and perhaps, it had luminous points, called stars, visible. In those dreams I could see a thick black fog, it seemed such as a smoke from which only I could make out a silhouette and a beautiful, mysterious and unbelievable eyes. These was of an amethyst colour, but before of can do my vision clearer, I wake up startled while a cold sweat ran through my body and my heart throbbed strongly.

Time kept passing and those dreams kept attacking me mercilessly in some new moon nights. Since then things have gotten worse or maybe just, they uncovered the lies. Why I say that? Because my two best friends. A cute girl of the school and the other the sporty. I never thought at first to befriend them, I should have drifted as far away as possible, but I didn't in due course. When my parents told me, we should move I put on my best surprised face instead of joy, I told them that I understood and nothing was wrong. When I entered to my bedroom, I put me to jump and dance When I calmed down, I found that I was alone two days to go, so I started packing my few belongings.

In less than a rooster crows, my days passed. When we get to our destiny, I discovered that we were in Tenerife. Despite having asked them a thousand times where we were going to live, they preferred to keep me in suspense until I got to this amazing house. It had a large patio totally limited by iron gates and concrete walls, whose of apparently granite. The house had doors, windows, balconies, also a large garage. When I entered to the house, I checked it have been decorated for coordinate the modern with the classic rustic. I went to the room, whose had instinctively chosen and was delighted with the decoration.

That night, this strange dream came back for attack me, but there was something new: a symbol and the door of basement of the house where I lived now. When I wake up, for coincidences of destiny I found in front of that old and dusty door, whose was open, until I realized I had my hand on it knob. Confused I entered, I went downstairs, entering the room in complete darkness, feeling the sound of my own footsteps. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, the image of those amethyst eyes returned to my mind. I didn't care about it and walked up to feel... Arena? I looked down, but all it was so dark, I hadn’t my flip flops but I was step on arena and rock. Suddenly I saw some light. I approached the deceased checking that he was a firefly and I carefully opened the window, entered lighting the room. I closer where found the arena, I saw the ground of rock whose there was engraved a full moon with a waning moon and waxing moon. I touched that strange symbol which one appeared a strange light. When that succeeded, I got scared and I decided run away of the basement to my room.

The next day I wake up and I saw in my shoulder blade I had a tattoo same I saw in the basement, a full moon.

The days passed and classes had started at the institute, where I was surprised not be the only new one. A young boy with purple hair and brown eyes, almost black, and other young boy with black hair with grey streak and brown eyes. They were the ones who came in with me.

The dreams were becoming more noticeable, worrying me. One day the boy with black hair with grey streak closed to me. He had a nice voice and for some reason I don't know, it gave me a lot of confidence. We became fast friends, although... he at first said nonsense. Then that boy with almost black eyes looked at me with a strange air, I think he doesn't fall good. He came up to me one day, the night before I had been in the basement. It had been a while without sleeping well and I think it was showing. He told me not to release him and I didn't I knew what he meant.

The days went by, dreams became more frequent and then I did not I held on longer and decided to find out what that basement was hiding. I was to class like a normal day and Jisung, the boy of black hair with grey strakes told me something of release my past. I was very surprised, since they both knew something that I did not know and that worried me. What was being hidden from me? There were many questions without answer.

When I came back to home I went to the basement and I stop frightening. I was going to do? I opened the door and it done a squeal and I close to the beginning of the downstairs. I went down accompanied by the creaking of the stairs thanks to my footsteps, until I touched the wooden floor. I had a flashlight so I was able to head to where the symbol that I saw painted on the rock. Touching it again, a beam of white light came out, giving in a strange halo, I turned off the flashlight, and carefully got up. I could see how the dark smoke that covered the basement battled in a magical way with the white and bluish light coming from the symbol. Worried as I was, I waited until that the light was gone, but the symbol was still shining. I reached out and touched it slowly the full moon shone and I moved my finger around the hoop and the light became so intense that I had to close my eyes. When I opened my eyes, I found me in front of a guy with grey hair and amethyst eyes. He looked me, smiled and he help me to wake up.

-I’m Felix- told me with a smile that made me shudder.

-I’m Y/N- I told.

When I found out it was a ghost, I didn't believe it, until a while later. He told me the story, or part of it, of the moons. They were magical beings, who, when dying, they reincarnated winning a battle. Jisung was the waxing moon and the guy of eyes almost black, whose name was Seungmin, was the waning moon.

Time passed and I liked Felix more and more, even if I kept it quiet, the latter was gentlemanly and gallant. I don’t know how to do Felix came back human…

One day Seungmin and Jisung told me:

-That with the power of the visible moon will be able to save the hidden moon from darkness... but they don't know it.

Months passed and then I understood. I decided to go to the basement where Felix was, despite the multiple feelings that began to attack me, I entered and went down the stairs that were already illuminated. Felix was sitting on the floor leaning against the wall. He got up and walked over to me. I could only look at him confused and not knowing very well that do. Let it go? But I... I liked... I just liked. So why me was it so difficult?

- What do you feel? - Felix asked mysteriously, approaching me and caressing my face with his hands.

-I… -I remember trying to say something, but I closed my eyes when I felt the caress and I didn't know how to respond.

-Let me show you what happened -Felix asked me and approached me very slowly face. I felt his breath, his arms around me, his lips brushing mine until turn that simple touch into a kiss.

At first, I did not know what to do, but little by little, I stopped thinking, and my lips joined in a dance that made the kiss turn between deep and delicious. I passed out, I know because his eyes, before falling into his arms, looked at me gently.

When I opened my eyes it was all dark, but I could distinguish like another girl, blue eyes and blue aura surrounding her, she looked at me. That girl said to me:

-You and I are one. I am the blue full moon, and I know everything that you do not remember...

She told me many things. She told me how Felix and I, in a remote past, were together, even though I never revealed my feelings to him. A human, who had virtue of being a medium, he fell in love with me and killed me because he understood that he could never be hers, Felix was sealed and I understood at last.

When I woke up, Felix was holding me. He smiled at me, kissed me and I reciprocated while I whispered that I loved him, he replied that he too and disappeared, something he said that he only expected to know my feelings since he did not know them in the other life ...

Three years passed and I was already in University. I thought I would never see him again. That same afternoon I found out that there was a new student. I felt like it invaded me a tornado of feelings: on the one hand, nostalgia for the past time, on the other, an inexplicable feeling that something new was going to enter my life. And without thinking, like if something pushed me to look in that direction, I saw it. It was him; it couldn't be any other. How a sleepwalker went to him and grabbed his arm. He turned and stared at me. Of suddenly she smiled and hugged me, until that moment I had forgotten to breathe and I felt the air expelled with relief.

-Thanks for bringing me from death. I love you so much that not even death could hold me back- and then he kissed me and I knew that the magic of love existed: "I love you" I whispered.

[hashtagliveza]

Ha Moshoeshoe ba li Pere |¦| Horse and carriage, the stables Reign amongst the empowered still 🐎🇱🇸😎

Imagery courtesy of @sleekridesls

A glimpse of the scenes of the Kingdom of Lesotho this past weekend ushering in the festive period.

This much anticipated horsepower exhibition returns to the Barracks December 5th. A family friendly fan favorite not to be missed.

Tickets available Pionner & Maseru Mall.

1 Pink note gets you into this not to be missed urban sporty event.

[sagesparrow394]

Blush Blush AU

I made a post about this a while ago, explaining that I was playing Blush Blush and ended up starting to come up with a Sanders Sides AU for it. So... here it is!

Because I know this isn’t a well known game, here’s a storyline summary before I go into the whole who’s who:

The game is a Dating Sim mixed with an Idle Game. It’s the grand opening of the new local zoo, and you work there at a confections stand. However, some of the customers are rather cute guys, and you get so distracted by their handsomeness, I guess, and accidentally sell them the wrong water! You didn’t sell them normal water, but magic water, but you don’t realise until they all start transforming to animals before your eyes. Most run off in the panic. You now have to find all the guys and change them back to normal with the power of love!

Anyway, I swear I’m not a furry. I just played this because I saw Markiplier did, and I got bored. Now I’m weirdly invested, it might be one of my fandoms, and here we are. Now lets get into the Sanders Sides AU!

Emile is the main character, for the soul reason he’s the one character who didn’t line up with any of the guys in the game.

Logan is Nimh. He was transformed into a rabbit, and is the first guy Emile comes across, as he goes to him to ask for a refund (which is the most Logan thing ever). He’s very smart, but socially awkward. The closer Emile gets to him, the more he opens up and the softer he becomes.

Virgil is Volks. He was transformed into a wolf, and is the second guy Emile comes across, meeting when he saves Emile from a bear while in the woods. He’s rather gruff, and a loner, often preferring to be alone than with others. However, Emile manages to soften him a little, even if Virgil refuses to admit it.

Remy is Kelby. He was transformed into a rooster, and is the third guy Emile comes across, Remy having saved him from drowning. (Just because he’s a rooster doesn’t mean he should ditch his job as a lifeguard). He’s very sporty, his Instagram being filled with pictures of him working out, playing basketball, and on duty at the beach. He gets along with Emile from the beginning pretty much.

Roman is Eli. He was transformed into a Pegasus, and is the fourth guy Emile meets, having met at a karaoke night. He’s very extroverted and a hedonist. Just lives to have fun and make the most of life. He’s very flirty with Emile, and actually really likes his animal form with the bright rainbow colours.

Deceit is Anon. He was transformed into a lemur, and is the fifth guy Emile meets, at an internet cafe. He’s a hacker and is rather introverted, preferring to just avoid society and spend his time online. He is a little hostile towards Emile at first, annoyed at him for turning him into a lemur, but warms up to him as time goes by.

Patton is Garret. He was transformed into a bull, and is the sixth guy Emile meets, when Emile rescues a cat from a tree, that Patton has been trying to save, but couldn’t because bulls can’t climb trees. He’s a lumberjack, and volunteers at an animal shelter on the weekends usually. Despite his strong and ripped exterior, he’s very kind and soft, and immediately considers Emile a friend.

Remus is Dmitri. He was transformed into a boar (how fitting for the trash man), and Emile met him when he went to a pottery class Remus runs. He’s also a poet, and a romantic, but also has his good old Remus dark, gross and explicit side. He learns to be a bit less explicit by spending time with Emile, though.

Thomas is Ichiban. He was transformed into a tiger. He’s Emile’s favourite YouTuber, and Emile met him at a local convention. Thomas is very kind and open, not shying away from making videos and meeting fans just because he’d been cursed into a tiger.

And that’s all of them! I know there’s a new character that was introduced to the game, William I think his name is, but I haven’t gotten to him to the game yet, and his page isn’t on the game’s wiki yet, so I wasn’t able to apply him to the AU. Oh well.

[elysiumwaits]

I was tagged by @novemberhush which is great because I love to talk about myself. It’s a problem sometimes at work, but it’s great for when I’m in therapy and doing memes on the internet!

Rules: answer 15 questions and then tag 15 people

1) Are you named after anyone?

Kind of. So my name is Emily. My mom had a cat named Emma - my biological father (who was not a good man) was jealous of the cat, and, long story short, Mom did not have a cat because of this asshole. So she named me Emily because she liked the name. I’m essentially named after her favorite pet. My middle name is Marie, it’s a family name - the last person who had it before me was my Great Aunt Marie, and she was, I’m told, the kind of woman who would take no shit and no prisoners. My mother told me it’s a very fitting middle name for me.

That said, please, please, please don’t call me Emily. Em is okay, I go by that in real life, but I actually prefer Eli or Ely most of the time. 

2) When was the last time you cried?

Shit, son, I cry at the drop of a hat. Probably a couple days ago? I’m a frustration crier and a happy crier and a oh-shit-I-dropped-my-fork-again crier, so it just... doesn’t really register anymore.

3) Do you have kids?

No. I work in a daycare, specifically the infant room. I love it, but personally, I don’t feel like kids are currently in the plan. This may change - I love children, but right now I don’t trust anyone enough to share a child with them, nor am I financially or mentally stable enough to raise one. 

I am, however, extremely maternal, so I will probably eventually have one. Just one.

4) Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Mmm, kind of? I don’t suffer fools gladly, which is sometimes a problem because my mouth moves before my brain catches up. I don’t use sarcasm in a mean or mocking way with people who don’t know any better - I will exaggerate it to use it with children so they know, without a doubt, that it’s sarcasm and a joke. Adults who should know better than to do ridiculous things, though, are fair game. 

Take, for example, the woman who told me I didn’t dress professionally enough in the infant room because I was wearing leggings and a comfortable t-shirt.

I used sarcasm with her. “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right, I’m sure you put makeup and heels on for [child]’s 4 am feedings, too, right?” And then I pointed out the stains on my shirt from baby food and formula. 

With kids, though, who are old enough to understand what sarcasm is, I’ll do a really exaggerated, over the top eyeroll and be like “Oh, goodness, we never ever go outside, do we? We’ve never gone outside a single day you’ve been here!” or something like that, because they laugh and they know it’s a joke. It also helps them develop critical thinking and communication skills.

5) What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Okay, so, I am a hypervigilant person thanks to a lot of PTSD-inducing trauma, so the first thing I notice about a person is usually how they hold themselves and if they have anything in their hand. I notice body language religiously - someone with an aggressive, threatening stance is immediately labeled a threat, whereas a person walking with arms to the side, shoulders back, and a general open body language is labeled not-a-threat.

That’s how I live my life, day to day. Threat or not-a-threat. Every single place I go.

I don’t recommend it.

6) What’s your eye colour?

Blue - apparently a very striking blue, I’ve been asked multiple times if I wear contacts. I do not.

7) Scary movie or happy ending?

HAPPY ENDING. And honestly, I have to know that beforehand or I have too much anxiety to enjoy the book/film/show/game.

8) Any special talents?

Writing, though that’s less talent and more intense and obsessive devotion to a craft. 

I hesitate to add: I’m also very good with tarot cards. Give me enough time with a person, one of my decks, and I can pry deep into their lives and tell them things about themselves that they’ve never revealed to another soul. It’s honestly terrifying. I have stories.

9) Where were you born?

Missouri. Technically in a helicopter, not actually in a hospital. It was a very emergency C-section, I was a month early, and Mom had actually coded. She likes to tell people that I’ve tried to kill her at least once!

10) What are your hobbies?

Writing, gaming, reading, Youtube videos and shows, crochet (less so lately, I have trouble remembering patterns these days). I write a lot, I read mostly fanfiction right now, I game when I can (usually Skyrim, Dragon Age Inquisition, or Minecraft), I watch a lot of Rooster Teeth and Achievement Hunter, and occasionally I make blankets and washcloths when I get so stressed that I can’t function.

11) Do you have pets?

YES. Okay, so I have Boo, who actually might be my soulmate. I’ve never felt so close to an animal. He hopped in my car one day when I pulled into a parking lot, and I was like “Oh, okay, I have a cat now,” and he’s been mine ever since. In my defense, he was very, very skinny, declawed, and more than likely abandoned. I call him Seizure Cat sometimes because he always seems to know when I’m about to seize, and he’ll climb on me and purr so that I don’t wake up alone. It really helps. 

Then I have Piper, who is my princess. She is 16-17, and to be frank, I stole her. I say I rescued her, but essentially, I stole her. I saw my friend’s dad kick her hard enough she bounced off a wall, and when it was time to go, I just picked her up and took her with me. For a long time, I was the only person she would let near her. She’s mellowed out quite a bit, hangs out mostly in her basket next to the food bowl, and yells when she wants attention - if you try to pet her before she wants it, she gets super angry. So affection is always on her terms!

Last but not least is actually my parents’ dog, Kobe. He is a massive German Shepherd/Treeing Walker Hound mix that we got from a pound in St. Louis. Brought him home at 8 pounds, found out he had distemper (he was the only of his litter to survive it), and 95 pounds and roughly three years later, he sleeps at the end of my bed (or couch when I can’t sleep in the bed). He is insanely smart - he’s officially smart enough that he knows all the commands he’s supposed to, can understand sentences and respond to them. He just doesn’t listen, because he pretty much knows he doesn’t have to. Luckily he’s an only dog, and my parents and I adore him, because he’s pretty much untrainable, simply because he’s so damn stubborn.

12) What sport do you play/have you played?

I can tell you that there is not a single person in this world who has ever looked at me and said “oh yeah, she’s sporty.”

I broke my wrist in a junior high kickball game. I wasn’t even playing. I was walking around the gym, talking with my hands with my friend @artsake-dreams and someone kicked the ball. It was hard enough that it flew across the gym, bounced off my hand, and snapped my wrist. The gym teacher didn’t believe I was hurt, the substitute nurse thought I was faking, so I walked to the office and cried to the secretary (who was my mom’s friend, mom is a teacher in the same district). Mom brought the x-rays in and very quietly and intensely not-yelled at the nurse and the gym teacher.

Later, in senior year, I got banned from playing hockey in the gym because I was too aggressive and almost got a detention for swearing. The only reason I didn’t was because the PE teacher was honestly just glad I was showing an interest in something physical.

13) How tall are you?

5’3

14) Favourite subject at school?

English/Writing. I also really enjoyed the sciences, even if I wasn’t good at the math. I was excellent when it came to the theories, but the formulas were really difficult for me. I also really love philosophy.

15) Dream job

I want to say writer, but that’s a lie because I don’t like people giving me deadlines for writing. I think an editor with a publisher is my dream job. Possibly a college-level writing/English/literature teacher. I’m one of those people who believes that writing is a skill that can be taught (though some are born with an innate talent) and that it’s something that should be taught. But that’s a post for another day.

Uh, okay, tagging some people? @artsake-dreams @sophaoat @thepeacering @icarusthriving UUUH it’s 2 am I don’t know 15 people off the top of my head, sorry, BUT if you see this you’re welcome to do it and say I tagged you!!!

[captain-self-ships]

Hiya, how are ya doing? For the ask meme: Red hearts, petnames, dates and kisses! (*^▽^*)

Petnames: What is a pet name you hate? What is a pet name your f/o hates?

Petnames I hate? I think ones that correlate to my body. They really rub me the wrong way and I have a bad experience with someone getting too handsy for comfort.

I haven’t actually directly called Kelby many pets names due to literally being an awkward blushing mess, so I’m not sure on his opinion of my cute nicknames for him. (Kel seems common, though I like to call him Kelby-Kelbs behind his back-)

Red hearts: Did you fall harder for your f/o than you wanted to?

Not necessarily want, more like expect! I did not expect to fall head over heels for the sporty rooster guy, but I did and wow it has been a great experience. I honestly didn’t have very high expectations for Blush Blush and planned to dedicate my time elsewhere, so it has been a pleasant surprise.

Dates: What do you normally do on a date?

Considering what dates you go on in canon, I’d probably do stuff along those lines. More casual dates where we have nothing in particular to prove where we can just be ourselves, madly in love with one another.

Kel does have the tendency to pull me along to any sports games, particularly basketball matches, especially if he’s playing. I think he just wants me to be there on the sidelines, and I’m more than willing to do it for him. He’s so cute when he’s doing his best, y’know?

Kisses: Who’s the better kisser, you or your f/o?

C,CRIKEY WE GETTING INTO SOME FLUSTERING TERRITORY-

Uh,,, in terms of this? Definitely Kelby. I don’t know what’s up with him, but he knows just what to do. Heck, even when I had to break the curse he ended up taking the lead when I kissed his nose on accident. Holy,, I still remember that, gosh, it was, uh,, an experience to say the least. He just, I guess he was ready for it and kinda let out his emotions then and there.

Still don’t know how he was able to kiss me so passionately,, maybe he was a little desperate to get out of his rooster form. Gosh, I was a MESS back then, haha,,,!!

Thanks for the message to the ask meme!!!

[def-jaybnowhr]

Just GOT7 Things: Part 2

I know I’m still forgetting things, but listen: it’s not my fault they’re all outrageously outrageous. I’m sure I’ll think of more and there will be a part three. rip.

Part 1

Jackson Wang Things:

- forgot he was in a dress and bent over - Jackson! With! Kids! - won’t let his production team live (”we have food today so they couldn’t afford drinks”) - will date anyone if they like each other (after his contract is up, of course) - “are you from China?” “yes” “are you sure?” “...YES” - breaks the ASC set - once threw his fancy watch in the dirt because Jinyoung gave him one as a gift - curses a Lot - “why are you so daddy” - So Thankful to his mom for raising him as best she could (he cried, I cried) - can actually be serious when he wants to be - which is a rare occasion - Cutoff Tees - Remember The One-Sleeve Look? Iconic. - shouldn’t fall asleep while getting a haircut

Park Jinyoung Things:

- would betray the members for one (1) corn chip - wants to kill the members (except JB) 98% of the time (especially Yugyeom) - you ever heard of Big Dick Energy? (see The King performance) - always watching, always judging - pretends he’s normal - does a lot of weird shit - will probably have a giant flower garden at some point - high notes - gets embarrassed performing old JJP songs - still having fun tho (I see you) - can pop his eyeball out of the socket - Pushups - definitely ripped under that dress shirt and cardigan - shy with fanboys (remember that ONE)

Mark Tuan Things:

- yelled at BamBam for wanting to give Youngjae cucumbers because “that’s mean” and “he could die!” - youtube, sns, youtube (but he’s already watched everything), sns (but he’s already seen everything), back to sleep - nicknamed “Little Cock” by his family because he was born in the year of the rooster (”Little Rooster” - don’t be nasty, ya nasties) - sporty boi - used to be hella tan before going to Korea because Cali beaches - Quiet™ - shady af - probably would trade the whole group for a good meal or a vacation, tbh - he’s either annoying WITH yugbam or being annoyed BY yugbam - loves his members highkey - clingy - he’s just a smol

Kim Yugyeom Things:

- “wow, so ah-mazing” - close friends with Jungkook (BTS) - the worst at bird noises - why are you acting like a dog, Yugyeom? - “majimakcheoreom” - will he ever stop yelling? probably not. - embarrasses himself but still does the embarrassing things - started reading more after hanging out with Jaebum and Jinyoung - TATTOOS - went bowling with Jungkook (who is a pro; Yugyeom probably lost) - filmed himself in the shower - cries when he gets pranked - which is a lot - probably cries during movies, too - he’s just a softy - “jJ pRoJeCt” - admitted he’s an idiot

BamBam Things:

- flirts with fans on twitter - met his idol, G-Dragon - said he wanted to give Youngjae cucumbers even tho he’s allergic - Moose™ - king of girl group dances - the sausage commercial pose (you know what I’m talking about) - the Best at bird noises - embarrasses himself - and everyone else - the best at the bottle toss game - the next BigBang (look out, Seungri, he’s coming for your brand) - does convulsing on the ground count as dancing? - dyed his hair white again (with purple/pink tints) because he wants me to die - was originally going to debut with Stray Kids - the thottiest thot - why does he always sound like a dying whale? - probably actually really smart - under all that meme - troll - you ever heard of Big Dick Energy? (see The King performance) - says his legs are useful because everyone uses chopstick (I hate him) - wants to work at a zoo - “do moose really walk in the street?” - called a giraffe by Jackson

Im Jaebum Things:

- says he doesn’t like certain foods and then proceeds to eat them - loves chicken more than life - always hurting himself - “and then . . . EAT” - according to the personality/compatibility test he took with Yoo Youngjae, he needs to be told when he does something well (which leads me to think he’s the one with the “good boy”/praise kink, let’s be honest here) - missing a whole ass tooth (and yes, it’s painful) - dork - sucks at rock, paper, scissors - the worst at the bottle toss game - taught the foreign members curse words - curses a lot - So Offended when Yugyeom accidentally called him without honorifics - reprimanded by his dad for flirting with fans - secondhand embarrassment is a part of his daily life - the Best eyebrows - cats over people - won’t show fans his room because he wants something to be private in his life (I get that, my guy) - pinned a fan against the wall once (wish it was me) (I would be super dead) - wants piercings (is trying to kill me) - said he doesn’t care what people think (same, I love) - Cooks™ - awkward - could probably kick ass if he wanted, but is a soft boi - looks hot in a dress - went on a date with Choi Youngjae and sang dirty songs - teases fans a lot (he’s a little shit) - watches over fans; saw a fan passing out at their show and didn’t stop until he got them help - a fuckin’ loser (in the best way) - keeps the group on task and focused (most of the time) - used to have anger issues, but chooses to talk about things these days - sees through pranks

Choi Youngjae Things:

- highkey allergic to cucumbers - “hello, my name is Youngjae” - you’re doing amazing, sweetie - laughs just like his sister (everyone was shook) - knows he can get away with anything - Humble™ - likes to hold the fans’ hands at fansigns - softest boi - once tried to get a heart back from a random family outside for like 15 minutes (he’s so cute) - gets offended when you say he’s not pure - Supreme - lives with his brother (does he also have the Laugh?) - and Coco, of course - his laugh makes the world go ‘round - “i don’t like it!” - tricked Jaebum into doing aegyon on Ask In A Box - tattoos - has literally never done anything bad ever - wants to be a husband who makes his wife laugh a lot - a baby

GOT7 Things:

- *whispers: jyp - spoiler7 - “do you miss us?” “no” - WASABIII~~~~~ - savage7 - literally all love the fans so much - Thots™ - LOUD - PIZZAAA~~~~ - interviewers typically say, “it’s tiring with GOT7″ - “ling ling ling ling” - basically admitted they don’t like Never Ever (written by JYP) - seriously, does anyone ever know what they’re doing? - AmeriThaiKong - adds “in bed” to every song title to make it dirty - Inappropriate™ - they. eat. so. loud. (it kills me) - always go to their disabled fans who can’t come to them - watch out for their fans at shows - can make anything sexual - hand out the cell phones thrown on stage to their owners - shouldn’t have sugar - take selcas with fans while performing - meme7 - always look out for each other - but also are all Rats™ - love In-N-Out - make a million versions of EVERY dance practice just to be memes - literally walked into a fancy restaurant and announced themselves (loudly) - but then signed autographs and took pictures with fans - knee dabs - “i’m out!”

[crustaceanfungus]

boop the snoot

will you boop the green rooster snoot?

the pointy pompadour rooster snoot?

the romantic jock sporty rooster snoot?

will you boop the snoot?

[kaplanflynn9]

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[lilacpunch54]

Themed Dinner Menus

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My very first dark room print | Peter on Coney Island | Hasselblad 500CM

“Now I'll do what I can/I'll walk like a man”

It’s been an insanely difficult month or so. It’s left me with little, both mentally and financially, and some days I walk around in a fog, forgetting my name or if I’ve changed my shirt or washed my face. I’m talking about the kind of difficult that crumples a person like a sad and empty beer can, the last remnants of me spilling out of the top and onto a dirty sidewalk, just waiting to dry. It’s dramatic and maybe a bit cheap, but it feels accurate.

Why so maudlin? Well, using modern parlance, there’s much to unpack there. For starters my spouse and I moved apartments, opting to enter the high-stakes real estate market and leave behind the cushy and cheap yet size-deficient rental I’ve enjoyed for the better part of fifteen years. It was time to shift ourselves down the road; it was time to own something. Correction: It was well past time to own something. Moving alone, whether it’s a renting situation or home ownership is daunting enough, but add to all that moving in a major city and up and down floors with a nonsense amount of bulky items and it gets even trickier and sweatier. True, we had guys with muscles for the heaviest stuff, but overall moving in the city has to be up there somewhere with owing an abundance of back taxes or giving plasma as one of life’s richer pleasures.

But we survived getting a mortgage, locating a suitable place and the inevitable move, and I’m happy to report the new apartment is emerging from its tragic free jazz, fallen Jenga tower beginnings to something a bit more organized and livable. 

I regret not writing through the time, but it all felt like too much. In some ways it still does. I miss my old home, and the woman who lives there. She became a second mother to me. I miss the floors and my intimate knowledge of their geography, including the scar I inflicted the day I moved in from dragging a heavy piece of furniture. I knew where those floors squeaked and where they gave a bit. I miss the skylight, and the way it warmed my body when I stood under it at the right time of day. I remember once when I first moved there, just resting on the floor in the dead of night and staring at the moon in total darkness through that hole cut out on the ceiling. In the new place, there is no skylight. We still don’t have a couch, none of our pictures are hanging on the walls yet, and we’ve no doors on our closets, but we’re on our way. There’s running water, paint on the walls and air conditioning in the bedroom (along with a bed), so it’s a start. And there’s a back yard. But each time I come home, I still have that strange unsettled feeling that I don’t know this place and I’ve walked in on someone else’s life, and this is not where I live. But surprise, I do live there and it is my life. I’m reminded of it each time I turn on my grandmother’s old rooster lamp and it lights up the few items in our living room. I’m hoping it’s just a matter of time where things click into place, and I feel comfortable. 

Sometimes I have trouble letting go of things.

I’ve also lived to understand my commute to the train is no longer an enviable five-minute walk. We can only be blessed for so long. Yes, I’m now an adult who starts the day by donning a sporty helmet and biking the rather surreal ten minutes to the subway at 4:30 in the morning to make the trek into the city. It was just too far to walk at such an early hour of the morning. Being on two wheels at that early hour of the morning feels unnatural, and I don’t recommend it. And since the first day I bought the damn bike, I had to navigate a monsoon to get it home, I’ve already survived some of the less ideal conditions that a person riding a bike not for pleasure must consider. 

But none of this is what has left me somewhat broken inside and perhaps a bit externally as well. All of that stuff just is; that I was able to maintain a core set of circumstances (same apartment, same rent, same type of life more or less from my late twenties to the age of 40) for as long as I did is truly remarkable to me. It’s doubly remarkable to me given my prior history of never staying in one place for very long. I miss what I know, but I’m not too old yet to experience something new. No, what really has me stirring is something beyond my control, something that my spouse handed on down to me, the details of which are too convoluted and frankly too personal to unravel and I honestly don’t know what I think anymore. 

But it all reminds me to take seriously the notion that marriage is a learning process, learning about yourself and what you can endure as you’re learning about your spouse. I don’t know where we’ll end up, to be honest, but it is my hope we emerge stronger on account of it. My faith has been shaken in a way I didn’t quite think it ever would be. But I am still here and still trying. The admission, the mention is vague and veiled because the broader feeling of disappointment and the attendant sadness is more important, more profound than the particulars. We can all plug into disappointment; specifics matter less. I’m still working through it each day.

As a side note: The picture above is the fruit of my very first time making a print in a darkroom. After being a photography enthusiast now for well over a decade, I have finally found a way to learn the ways of the darkroom, and for me now, there’s no going back. I’ve found what I’ve supposed to be doing, and for me, it’s apparently located in a really dark basement.

The picture above was taken last year on Coney Island. It is of my dear pal Peter, and it is with a Hasselblad 500CM and Portra 400.

Cheers.

[valleymotorauctions]

Carly about to go for her first cruise in her sporty Kia Sportage. "Don you were absolutely amazing! You went above and beyond and made purchasing my new car an absolute breeze!! Don is a top man and to make it even better he is a Roosters Supporter! Could not recommend him more highly!" Another happy Valley Motor Auctions customer. #VMAhappycustomer

[sleepworld1-blog]

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But after years of training in ungainly attire, it was obvious that something needed to change, and for one Frenchman, the solution was clear.Tailoring has relaxed, men's apparel codes have become blurred, and the smartening up of sportswear has left bouncers at clubs all over the world scratching their big, round, boiled ham heads in confusion in the prospect of needing to update their"no coaches" policies. Unless you've been living in a cave for the past five years, eating beetles for protein and washing at a stream, you have no doubt discovered that menswear, since it is known by us has undergone a transformation on a fundamental level.Émile Camuset was not just any French dude; he was the French dude who founded world-renowned sportswear tag Le Coq Sportif -- which, FYI, translates into"the athletic rooster" -- he had understandably had quite enough of sweating his way round the track in whatever cumbersome legwear guys were rocking at the moment.