#and honestly I’m laughing my ass off I’m such a weak educator but I love my kids jajshsjsj

[nishisun]

suna rintaro is NOT a genius.

summary: you loved the idea of soulmates. suna rintaro didn’t. it isn’t that hard to put two and two together to realize that maybe people with different opinions on things don’t belong together.

part 2

a/n: this was literally supposed to be a series, i gave up on it because i just didn’t like the way it turned out. it used to be called “out of my league” and this was the intro. i also renamed it. just emptying drafts!! please don’t get confused with the random timeskip, once again, this was a part of a series i never ended up posting😭

WARNING!!: suggestive themes, mentions of death, idk kinda angsty but tell me if i missed anything

Soulmates. Whatever the hell that means. The idea of soulmates is something I truly don’t understand. It’s bullshit, honestly. It’s all-pervasive.

My mother always told me I'd eventually find "the one.” I used to believe that when I was younger of course. But in my opinion? It’s all cliches. It's unhelpful, and it's certainly not true. Destiny is an excuse for the weak. Why do you think most marriages end in divorce? It's 'cause people who believe they are “destined to be" assume everything will fall into place without any effort. I don't appreciate people pontificating bullshit like that just to make me feel better, especially if they haven't found their "soulmate" themselves. My sister once told me, “People who believe in soulmates are more likely to break up and encounter more difficulty in their relationship, which will lead them to give up on one another eventually.”

I sure do believe that.

My mother is a prime example. Fumeiko Suna, my dear mother. Well, she clearly hasn’t found hers. I found out when I came home after a tedious day of school in 5th grade and found my dear mother on the floor crying, with bruises all over her face and a busted lip.

Initially, I thought a burglar had broken into our home once again, but if that were the case then there would’ve been missing furniture. But there wasn’t.

In fact, the place seemed cleaner than usual. When I ran up to her and asked her what had happened, there he was. The devil himself. My father. He reeked of alcohol, and I could detect his shadow towering over me. It’s funny how that I think of it. I used to fear that son of a bitch. Now, I’m way taller than him, and hate his guts. I turned around to see a faux-sympathetic smile plastered on his face.

He explained how my mother was being “clumsy” and had fell and busted her lip on one of the corners of the kitchen table and when I turned back around to face my mother, she smiled gently and nodded in agreement. She didn’t say anything after that.

It was then I realized my father had beat my mother to a pulp.

Long story short, when I found it was my father, sure, I was frightened. In fact, I remember going into my siblings’ rooms to inform them, they shrugged it off and told me that dad had been doing it for a while now.

Over time, when my dad had found out that I was aware, he didn't mind beating the absolute shit out of my mother in front of all three of us. This was when my burning hatred for that man started. Nobody in the house even attempted to stop him. I did a few times, though. He took all his anger out on me. At least my mom had a break for the day.

I almost pitied my mother. Almost. Maybe if she was strong enough to leave him, then yeah, I’d feel bad. But she still decides to stay with his sorry ass. It’s pathetic. It’s unrequited love or whatever you call it. How could she still love that asshole?

I mean, I’m not even going to lie, I’m an asshole too, but I’m definitely not my dad. I would never want to be him. He’s not someone I looked up to, he doesn’t do anything inspirational. He’s a businessman. He travels the majority of the time, and I’m pretty sure my mom invites men over when he’s gone. I don’t care enough to find out. But if I ever hear some guy rearranging my mom’s guts, I’ll kill him. I don’t even blame my mother. What she’s doing is wrong, she knows it and so do both of my older siblings. But they don't seem to care so why should I?

Who knows why she just won’t leave him. Maybe it’s cause they don’t want to ruin how people view our “picture perfect” family. I wonder what they’d say. “I thought the Suna’s were the ideal family? I guess not.”

My dad would probably lose it if he heard that.

Both my mother and my father are the cause of this broken family of mine. They never fed me or any of my siblings the love we always desired when we were younger. They never came to any of my volleyball games when I was younger. They never applauded me for the little recitals we’d have in class in primary school. They were never even here for most of my childhood. They always put money first and left us with the housekeepers. Hell, the housekeepers probably know me better than my own parents.They failed as parents. I despise them for it. They’re most likely the reason I am the way I am, but to be honest?

I don’t give a fuck.

In fact, I should thank them! Because of how they “raised” me, i’m extremely blunt, which is why people respect me. I use the hatred I have for my family and take it out on people and no, I’m not proud of that. I may be a heartless asshole, but I like that people fear me. The hell? Does that make me a sadist? Either way, people know to never fuck with me cause I’d fuck their shit up. I’ve overheard many people say it’s ‘cause of my privilege. It probably is. Money can’t buy happiness, but it sure can buy you many other things.

If my parents were broke, I’d probably be expelled from school by now. Abuse of alcohol and drugs are forbidden on school property. I don’t even take them at school, I somewhat care about my education and health, but sometimes I just need to blow some steam. Even if I did, nobody’s gonna say shit since my dad is the head of Japan’s board of education. How did his ass even get there?

Call me lonely or cynical. Maybe I am. But how is that a bad thing? Why do people need a significant other to rely on? What, a soulmate is just going to turn my life upside down then suddenly bring me happiness? Pfft, I’m gonna need actual proof that shit like that still happens. I’ve only seen shit like that in fairy tale movies. It’s whatever, though. I can live with being alone. I’ve basically been alone my whole life and it isn’t as bad as people make it.

You loved the idea of having a soulmate. The thought of meeting someone who just understood you, accepted you for who you were, and most importantly, loved you excited you. You couldn’t wait to meet your soulmate.

But recently, you weren’t sure soulmates existed.

When your older sister, Akira, came into your room and burst into tears, it frightened you. Your older sister, the one who’d always provide you advice on relationships and how to keep one was in your room sobbing hysterically because hers hadn’t worked out.

“I just can't believe it,” she sobbed.

You couldn’t believe it either. Your sister had recently gotten engaged to her boyfriend of 9 years. They started dating at the age of 15 and managed to make things work out even after high school, and out of all those years of dating, they never broke up. Not even once.

They’d go on romantic dates on Saturdays and they’d always write love letters to one another every day, just to remind one another of how grateful they were to have each other in their lives. On Halloween, they’d dress up as fictional characters from TV shows and books and take cute selfies and bake a bunch of sweets. They’d invite you to come bake with them, but you would politely deny. You knew they were only offering so you wouldn’t feel left out, which you appreciated.

Of course, they’d argue every now and then, but at the end of the day, they always managed to talk things out. Oh to have a relationship like theirs. They were everything you wanted to have in a relationship and more.

“I really thought he was the one for me, y’know?” No, you don’t know. But that doesn't matter. What mattered was cheering your sister up.

“Maybe he wasn’t ‘the one’ Akira, and that’s okay! People come and go all the time, soulmates come and go all the time as well-”

“You still believe soulmates are real, huh?” she let out a humorless laugh and sniffed her nose, “What If I missed my one shot at love, Y/N? What if I lost my soulmate?”

That’s some deep shit.

Now that you think about it, were soulmates real? Soulmates come and go, yes, you’re aware of that, but even though they leave, it’s always temporary. Soulmates always find a way back to their other half, the piece that completes them.

Your dad never made it back to your mother.

He died in a car crash 5 years ago. Your mother and father had been arguing because she claimed your father was cheating on her since he wouldn’t let her check his phone.

You were 13 at the time. Your sister Akira was accompanying you in your room, listening to them arguing back and forth with one another. There was furniture flying across the room, glass breaking, and both of them throwing curses at each other. You were scared. They never argued in front of you and your sister. They'd bicker sometimes, but it was never anything too deep.

Eventually, your father had enough of your mother’s false accusations, and out of anger, he packed his things and left home. For weeks. It wasn’t until one of your uncles called your mother and broke the news. She didn’t take it very well.

Late 2012-early 2013.

Not many people came to your father’s funeral, his family didn’t like the fact that he and your mother were together, they said your mother was trouble, but your dad still stayed with her, even if that meant it would completely destroy the bond he had with his family. Now that’s true love, you had thought. Only your mother, Akira, the Sunas, your uncle, and you, of course, attended the funeral.

It hurt a lot. It hurt when your mother informed both your grandparents on your mother and father’s side and all they could do is put the blame on her. It hurt how they had claimed you, Akira and your mother were a hindrance to your dear father’s well-being. How could they be so cruel at a time like this?

That was the first time you ever questioned if soulmates were real. Maybe they fell in love at the wrong time? Who knows.

After your father’s passing, Fumiko Suna, your mother’s best friend, was there to help your family out financially. Your mother couldn’t even find the motivating to go to work. Your mother and Fumiko have been best friends since junior high, they’ve literally been inseparable ever since. In fact, after they both got married, they decided to live right next to each other.

Your mom didn’t cope with your father’s death very well; none of you did. But your mom had it the worst.

She would cope with alcohol and clubbing which would always result in her bringing different men home almost every night. You didn’t say much about it, you thought it would be selfish to since that’s what seemed to make your mother feel better about herself, but your sister hated it. She was already 19 and in college at the time, but when she visited and found out that your mother had basically been neglecting you, she was furious.

“Seriously, mom? This is what you’re gonna do while your 13-year-old daughter is in her room having a literal mental breakdown because of your childish behavior?” Your sister had barged into your mother’s room when she thought you were asleep, she was screaming loud.

“You’re interrupting something important, Akira. You know better than to-”

“Oh, shut the hell up mom. You’re the last person on earth to be saying shit like that.”

“Well, if you’re done, you can leave my room now. You’re being disrespectful, and this behavior is not tolerated!” Your mother was screaming now. The man in the bed covering his body under the covers and looking back and forth between Akira and your mother.

“Sakiya, maybe you should hear your daughter out-”

“Not now.” your mother scarcely interrupted the man, eye contact never leaving Akira. “Y/N has never complained about this when you were in college. She knows this is my way of coping, why can’t you understand that too!”

Akira scoffed. “So what, getting fucked by random strangers you find on the filthy streets is your way of coping? Getting wasted every damn night to the point where Y/N has to drag you up to bed is okay with you? Do you even know how much this is affecting Y/N? Did you even bother asking her how she felt? I hate breaking it to you mom, but you need serious help.”

“You selfish child!” Your mother screamed, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her body, getting up from the bed. “How dare you say that to your own mother?”

“I’m only telling the truth! If you’re the mother, then it’s your job to be taking care of Y/N, not neglecting her. When’s the last time you’ve engross in an actual conversation with her when you were fully sober?”

Your mother was silent. She quickly walked up to Akira and grabbed her by the hair and slammed her headfirst against the wall.

“You’ve got a big mouth! Maybe I should wash it with soap like I did back in the day, hm?” Akira was attempting to push her mother away, but she wouldn’t let go of her grip. The man that was still on your mother’s bed was in panic, yelling her name, which didn’t have any effect. He might as well stop.

"Look," Akira mumbled, struggling to get away from your mother's grip, "I know it's been hard ever since dad left-"

“Mom! Let go of her!” You cried from the door of her room.

All 3 adults froze and looked at your glassy eyes, mouths wide open.

“Hey, kiddo, I thought you were asleep?” Akira playfully said, your mother let go of Akira and crossed her arms then looked away from you.

“Well, I can't really go to sleep when there’s a bunch of adults yelling about my well-being,” you muttered incoherently. You quickly wiped the uncontrollable tears off your face and sighed.

“Honey,” your mom started, she walked slowly to you, carefully examined your face, and attempted to hug you, but you didn’t accept the offer which made your mother frown. She stopped walking until she was almost face to face with you and placed a hand on your shoulder gently. “Baby, your sister told me that you weren’t happy. Is this true?”

You looked away from her and stared dully at the floor, subtly shifting your feet, then you softly shook your head “no.”

“See Akira, Y/N is happy. So please stop stressing her out.” Your mother said through gritted teeth, then faced you once again. “Y/N honey, how about I go tuck you into bed, hm? I’m so sorry for the excessive noise that was caused.”

“Mom, how clueless can you be? Y/N looks miserable! It’s unhealthy for Y/N to be living-“

Slap.

Your mother just slapped Akira on the face.

“I know what’s best for my daughter! I am her mother! You are not the one who should be telling me how to take care of my own kid!”

“That’s enough, Sakiya.” a familiar voice said from the door.

“Fumeiko-“

“It’s fine. Sakiya, we need to talk.” It was Fumeiko Suna, your mother’s best friend, also known as your next door neighbor. She had been standing in the hallways the whole time, you didn’t even know she was there. Akira was the one who called her over.

That night your mother agreed to get help for her drinking problem. She was gone for 6 months. During those 6 months, the Suna’s took you in since Akira would be in college and you couldn’t have been more grateful.

You and Rintaro were the only kids in the house, being that you both were the same age and the others were in college. It was okay, they were all very polite, dinners were awkward, you could feel some sort of tension between the family but you didn’t pay any attention to it.

When your mom finally came back, it was awkward at first. She still seemed the same, loving and caring, just sober and free of alcohol. It was nice. You two spent the weekends bonding at the mall, watching a movie, or even getting your nails done. Eventually, she gained your trust back, and you couldn’t have been happier.

January 2017.

“Akira, don’t say that. You may not believe me now, but you are such an amazing person, don’t ever think you’ll never find love again. It’s all about having a positive mindset!” you said, thoughtfully stroking her hair as her head laid on your chest.

“I told you that.”

“You did,” you chuckled, “you should take your own advice.

“Oh, shut up!” you both laughed, and Akira let out a shaky sigh. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Of course, you don't need to thank me. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

— so this is one of the writings that i wrote in January 😭 it’s been in my drafts and i re-read it once and instantly hated it right after. if there’s any typos please tell me!!

— also i wanna apologize again for putting gmds on hiatus,, i feel so bad 😭 i wanna make it up to you guys but idk how so if you have suggestions pls tell me

[arhvste]

❝ kuroo tetsurō - rate-a-child ❞

in which kuroo takes a more refined but catty approach towards having his say on your daughters ex boyfriend leaving her in tears

an - sorry this took so long to get out, this went hand in hand with the hcs i did that’s why it’s a little late seeing as i changed the concepts for oo of yesterday’s work !!

tetsu week masterlist

“i’ll kill him.”

“you’ll do nothing of a sort.”

“i meant with kindness.”

“kindness my ass, the look on your face says it all!”

you were currently in a hissing match between yourself and your husband as you stood outside the bedroom door of your 16 year olds daughter who was currently curled up under her sheets which were damp with tears.

the catalyst to the situation was when your daughter first slipped in through the front door and failed to greet yourself and her father as usual. you hadn’t missed this as you poked your head out of the living room only to see a pair of legs stagger up the stairs without much care placed in each step.

“tetsurō, is she okay?” you whispered nodding towards the door your daughter had just entered through from school.

“i couldn’t tell you, she didn’t look in my direction.” kuroo raised an eyebrow as he looked up from his laptop screen briefly towards the hall.

“i think i’ll go and see.” you muttered as you dropped your phone onto the couch and headed towards the staircase.

“i’ll come.” kuroo got up ready to stand only to halt when you shot him a piercing look.

“this is mother-daughter time i think.”

“aw don’t be like that! why can’t i be included and see what’s wrong with my little girl?”

you rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“because i don’t think she likes how you baby her so much. she’s independent tetsu, we have to accept it. just let me talk to her first and you can come up in a few minutes okay?”

“guess you’re gonna have to take her amounts of babying in her place then.” he pouted to which you let out an airy before heading upstairs to your daughters room.

you knocked and waited for the signal to come in but it never came. you tried again and still no reply. pressing your ear to the door you heard soft sobs coming from inside as your heart rate sped up.

“i’m coming in” you quietly warned before gently opening the door, your daughters saddened form right before your eyes.

“oh!” you rushed over to her side and pulled her weak state into your arms as you sat on the side of her bed.

“baby what’s wrong?” you cooed stroking the hair stuck to her face as a result of wet tears dripping down her face.

“-he -he dumped me.” she hiccuped as more tears dropped down her face.

you frowned silently to yourself as you racked your brain for an appropriate response.

kuroo had been your first and only boyfriend so you had never been broken up with before so you couldn’t understand the pain she must’ve been feeling. for now, rocking her back and fourth and calming the crying seemed like the best option until you could think of how to approach it without looking too aimless.

as if the heavens had opened their gates specifically for you to grant any wish you so much desired, your husband entered your field of vision in the doorway as his eyes softened at the two of you.

“so much for mother-daughter time.” you tutted and kuroo softly smiled before approaching the two of you.

“i know you’re relieved i’m here, it’s written all over that pretty face of yours.” he replied he took a seat on the other side of your daughter.

“can you not flirt while in front of me whike i’m going through my first teenage heartbreak!” you daughter snapped as kuroos eyes widened.

“heartbreak?” you sent a pleading look his way as if to beg for him to say something to attempt damage control.

“o-oh i mean, heartbreak yes. well, i’m just waiting on you to confirm it was that ugly boyfriend of yours who did it so i can take matters into my own hands.”

you glared at your husband who now had a small fire ignited in his eyes.

“it was. -but please don’t say anything! i don’t want this to be a thing!” you daughter tugged at your husbands arm pleading him to keep this to himself.

“no can do. princess, you’re crying. i never want to see you cry especially over some boy who’s league you were well above anyway!” he scoffed as he got up to leave.

“don’t worry pretty one, dads gonna get him back for ya!”

“tetsu don’t-”

and with that he shut the door behind him, leaving you to scramble to your feet offering an apologetic look to your daughter to which she dryly laughed and waved off her fathers antics. you hastily dashed out the room to grab kuroos hand before he could get any further down the hall which was where you were presently questioning your husbands motives.

“y/n, let me go please.” he whined as you held his arm tighter.

“and if i do then what?” you pressed, raising an eyebrow at him.

“then i’ll get revenge for our little girl.”

“then i’m not letting you go.” you quipped back frowning at him.

“makes no difference to me.” he sighed using his other arm to scoop you up easily off of your feet and out of shock you let him go.

“tetsurō! let me go! i want no part in this!” you hissed as your husband carried you down the stairs and into his home office.

“why are we in here?” you quietened down once he placed you on the plush black couch in his work space.

“you didn’t seriously think i was going to actually show up at his house or something did you?” he grinned as he sat upon his desk chair to fire up his desktop.

“yes.” you honestly muttered, raising an eyebrow towards him.

he cackled and shook his head before motioning for you to come over to which you found yourself obliging to.

“look, i’m not gonna be too embarrassing speaking for her but i think you’re gonna want a say in this eventually.” he explained as your confused face only stuck as you watched him open his emails.

he typed in the email address of your daughters ex boyfriends parents. you knew you had their contact details as they had requested your husband help them get their son into the sport industry to which kuroo very reluctantly agreed to, only because you insisted.

kuroo was never a fan of the boy. he knew from the first time he met him that he would cause trouble and as much as he’d like to have his ‘told you so’ moment, he knew that it could wait. he’d prove his point another way instead.

‘dear mr and mrs whatever your last names were, i’ve forgotten it already,’

you flicked him on the arm for that but something told you to let him continue as you silently fed off of the pettiness yourself.

‘it’s come to my attention my suspicions about your ‘boy’ were right. he is in fact a trouble maker and i should’ve prevented him from getting involved with us from the very start when i first had a hunch.’

kuroo typed with such precision and passion. you had never seen him so into an email before and you weren’t sure whether you should’ve been concerned or not.

‘i first had an idea of what sort of person your son was when my daughter for some reason brought him over for dinner. his manners? comparable to a farm animal. who eats with their mouth open?’

humming as he typed, kuroo mentally listed all the time he didn’t like the boy which wasn’t exactly hard since you knew he had disliked him from the very start and while right now your daughter might’ve been upset and distraught, he was silently happy that he was finally out of the picture.

‘another thing i find closely similar to a farm animal in him is his hair. i don’t particularly understand why you allow him to leave the house looking such a state, but you’re certainly not doing him any favours by doing so.’

you snorted reading this one as kuroo glanced up at you.

“i think that’s a bit rich coming from you.” you hummed as your husband snickered.

“my hair and his hair are two very different situations. mine is unintentional and you love it. his... well, his is just straight up ugly and he intentionally styles it that way.” kuroo replied before turning back down to face the screen.

‘i remember the first time i enquired your son about his very ‘unique’ hairstyle and he scoffed in my face and told me it’s what was currently ‘trendy’. forgive me if i’m wrong, but a trend is a pattern multiple people follow and make normalised no? i haven’t seen another soul wander around with the same bizarre mop on their head as your son, perhaps a dictionary is in order to be purchased for your son so he can educate himself on what a ‘trend’ really is, because no sane being would follow along with his atrocious aesthetic.’

your eyes danced over the screen as kuroo typed it up so flawlessly, it was as if he had revised everything he’d been wanting to say for months which in all honesty, wouldn’t shock you considering how vocal he was speaking against your daughters then boyfriend.

‘so not only is your son lacking in the aesthetics department but also the personality. i’m not quite sure why he thinks his rude tone is normal, but it’s not. why does he act like owns the place whenever he visits my house. i hate to make assumptions, but your boy isn’t bringing any income to the table is he? so tell me why he acts like he does whenever he comes over.’

the irritation deepened on kuroos face as he recalled all the times the boy would come over and treat the house like his own. his shoes muddy and left in the middle of the hallway, his feet always propped up on the coffee table centred in the living room by the couches, no greeting or acknowledgment when he’d come in, he’d simply come in and head straight upstairs to your daughters room. kuroo was agitated each and every time but held his growing aggravation together at the insistence from you that your daughter would come to her senses soon enough and dump him. the outcome is technically what yourself and kuroo had wanted, although, the two of you were confused as to why your daughter was crying over someone so inferior. nevertheless, you were both internally relieved it was all over now.

‘while i know your son is still growing up and such, i do think 16 years old is a little concerning for him to not know manners. this is exactly why i was reluctant to help him into getting into the professional sports industry. both yourselves and your son were demanding of my assistance however, let it be known msby weren’t fans of your son and his awful mannerisms in the slightest so i wouldn’t prepare myself to cheer him on at their stadium anytime soon so hold your breaths.’

kuroo recalled the few times he brought the wretched boy to work with him only to suffer at the hands of secondhand embarrassment. he was rude and obnoxious towards the staff and had provoked several of the players leaving kuroo to apologise in his place and guide him as far away from the pros as possible.

‘i’m glad myself and my family are finally able to wash our hands with him. i didn’t like him and my wife wasn’t too keen either. teach him to do better than this. while i’m bothered by my own daughters current state of upset, i know her tears will dry quickly once she realises what a waste of time this all was. i don’t want a reply, i want an improvement from your son. don’t let him treat his next girlfriend (if he’s lucky enough to get one) the way he treated my daughter and i think basic manner instructions and examples are required for him to start an improvement.’

your arms draped over kuroos shoulders as he gunned finishing his email.

‘my daughter will move on quickly from this, i have no doubt in that, but teach your son what it means to be a responsible man and reshape the strange looking piece of clay of a child you’ve moulded him into. there’s still hope (if you’re optimistic). overall, i’m rating your child 2/5 stars. he was reliable but that’s the only good thing he had going for him. take my constructive criticism and work on improvements for the future! yours sincerely, kuroo tetsurō’

with a slighter harder press on the final letter of the email, kuroo clicked a few options on the email and wasted no time in hitting the ‘send’ button before exhaling.

“that was... something.” you muttered as kuroo turned to face you on the office chair.

he laughed softly before pulling you onto his lap and leaning in. his hot breath ticking the back of your neck as he spoke.

“i think this is going to shake them more than a visit to their house won’t it? i’m sure an email is the last thing they’re expecting.”

you leaned back into his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist as he pressed soft kisses to the back of your neck.

“i hope one day, she finds someone who’ll love her the way you love me.” you sighed, eyes fluttering shut.

“i know she will, she has your good looks and my sharp wit, i don’t have a single doubt she’ll find someone as good as her over time.” kuroo murmered his kisses ceasing for a moment.

the two of you sat there in contentment for just a moment before you pulled yourself from his grip and stood before him offering your hand.

“boys can wait, the only boy she needs in her life right now is sat right before me and i think she needs him to come and comfort her with me for now.” you softly smiled as kuroo smirked.

“so, i finally get an invitation to mother and daughter time?” he leaned further back in his chair, sharp features only more defining.

“looks like it.” you confirmed as kuroo reached for your hand.

“then, i gladly accept.” his calloused hand took in your own as you tugged him off the dark leather office chair.

you and kuroo had no doubt your daughter would pick herself up on her own over time. that didn’t mean you wouldn’t slyly defend her behind the scenes though because while kuroo loved the idea of his daughter staying his little girl forever, he knew better than to tug at her independence.

nevertheless, your little girl or not, yourself and kuroo would go to all ends to make her happy and if that meant to send a petty email, the so be it. yourself and kuroo would gladly sit at your screens for hours and type up as many needed if it meant to make your daughter happy.

there wasn’t really anything kuroo wouldn’t do for his family and you loved that about him. always taking the higher ground and solving issues in sometimes questionable but logical ways was kuroos method at tackling things. youd question his motives but he’d always come through in the other end. perhaps you’d have to trust your husband from the start of these situations a little more in the future.

dt - @aislastetsu

general taglist → @atsumuwoah @bloody-bella @bbymilkbread @miracleboy420 @doggonudez @tsumue @peteunderoos @tsukkisbean @saturnfarie @toffees-main @zumisace @boosyboo9206 @totorosleaff @27kei @dai-tsukki-desu @angrylittleriri @tsukkaria @kuxredere @warakou @mattsuny @lovinnoya @sophiashortcake

ALL CONTENT BELONGS TO @KUROOSKULT ON TUMBLR 2020 PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, CHANGE OR PLAGIARISE

[ineffable-snowman]

(apologies in advance to the people who followed me for Good Omens. I’m diving headfirst into a new fandom, so I’m afraid there’s going to be a lot of Sambucky in the next three weeks at least...)

I wrote a fic inspired by episode 3 of FATWS. Read it here or on AO3.

Trouble Man

“It is a masterpiece, James. Complete, comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience.”

What kind of passive-aggressive bullshit was that? It was annoying enough that Zemo insisted on calling him ‘James’ in that patronising way of his but now he tried to lecture him or rather tried to make him look stupid, uncultured and ignorant. Bucky wanted to laugh at Zemo’s comment that sounded more like he was quoting a Wikipedia article to appear sophisticated, but then Sam spoke up.

“He is out of line – but he is right.”

Fuck Zemo. Seriously, Bucky had enough reason to hate Zemo but this was on another level. This was personal. He made Bucky look stupid, uncultured and ignorant in front of Sam. And the thing was, he was mostly ignorant about Marvin Gaye. He had listened to some of the tracks from Trouble Man just because they were on Steve’s list, and had quickly decided that it was not his kind of music. Now he wished he had at least listened to the whole album so he could contribute more than a weak “I like Marvin Gaye”, which fooled absolutely no one. He had no idea how a simple conversation about music had escalated like this. It had seemed like perfectly normal banter, Sam making fun of him for being old-fashioned, and then Zemo had interfered with that comment and it was downhill from there.

For some reason Sam was very passionate about Marvin Gaye and Bucky was intent on finding out why. Also, he needed to find out how music could be “complete, comprehensive” and “capture the African-American experience.” In his experience, music was used for dancing and for fun and that’s all there was to it. He stared at the notebook. There was some really good advice in it, like Thai food or Star Wars. So far, Bucky had not seen the appeal of Marvin Gaye. But apparently Steve had. If Steve had adored the music so much, why had he just simply crossed it out in a neat line and not, for example, put an exclamation mark behind it? Bucky added two exclamation marks.

Right, how to do this? Not for the first time he regretted just getting a simple flip phone instead of one of those fancy smartphones. When the shop assistant had told him that he needed a phone for taking photos and listening to music, Bucky had almost laughed at him. Talking about stupid… He could really use Youtube or Google now.

“Do you have a computer with internet?” he asked Sharon.

She looked at him like he was stupid (it was becoming a theme) but showed him to a computer and even gave him earphones. Then he started to listen to Trouble Man and this time did not skip any tracks but listened to the whole songs. He also googled the lyrics but that did not leave him any the wiser. Doctor Raynor would probably tell him to use his goddamn mouth and just ask someone, for heaven’s sake. He would rather get frozen again than ask Zemo. But it also felt extremely wrong that Zemo, who was supposed to be one of the bad guys, seemed to know and understand Sam better than Bucky, who was supposed to be Sam’s…whatever. Were they friends? Bucky certainly considered Sam a friend (although he never would say it out oud), probably the only friend he had left. Someone who texted you and asked you how you were and invited you to lunch was a friend, right? Someone who even saved your ass and (repeatedly) broke the law for you was a very good friend. But did Sam consider someone his friend who did not text back, who repeatedly got him into trouble, kept things from him and had even tried to kill him? Bucky stared at the screen. It was a miracle Sam had not tried to kill him yet. It was even more of a miracle that he was still being nice (sometimes). He googled “Trouble Man” and “African-American experience”. To his disappointment, it was not a quote from a Wikipedia article. So Zemo knew what was going on and Bucky did not. He turned up the volume and tried to make sense of the lyrics (“Got me singin' – yeah, yeah – Hoo“).

“Finally doing some catching up on the good stuff?”

Bucky turned around so quickly that the earphones were ripped out of his ears. Sam had put up his hands in defence and was babbling something about attacking or not attacking or whatever.

“Jesus.” Bucky consciously unclenched his left fist. “Couldn’t you just knock?”

“I did. You didn’t answer.” Sam pointed at the screen where the Youtube video of Trouble Man was still running. “I knew it,” he said gleefully. “You have no idea who Marvin Gaye is.”

“I do!” Bucky protested but then trailed off because he may have heard some of Gaye’s songs but he still did not know who Marvin Gaye was.

“So.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you think? Honestly.”

Bucky looked from Sam to the screen to the dangling earphones. I like it was not an appropriate answer. Not an honest one. “I don’t get it,” he finally said.

“No appreciation for good music.” Sam sighed dramatically. “Hopeless. Stuck in the 40s forever.”

Bucky could have left it at that. They were on common ground again, bickering but not hurting each other, it felt familiar, safe. “No,” he said nevertheless. “I – how? How is this music – how does it…capture the African-American experience? Most of the songs don’t even have lyrics.”

“You don’t need lyrics for music to be meaningful.”

“How? Is it because people listen to it in certain situations or…?”

“Alright. Ready for a lesson on 20th century music? You better take notes.”

Bucky opened the notebook and took a pen. Then he noticed Sam’s grin. Right, he hadn’t meant it literally. But now Bucky had already opened the notebook and he was determined to go through with it. So he wrote down all the names Sam dropped, the musical genres and important songs. It was a lot and, as a lot of things, it confused Bucky but he just rolled with it. So some bands destroyed instruments on stage and certain music apparently had a soul? Great. Speaking of souls, this was probably the right time for some soul-gazing to show Sam that he was actively listening. (Doctor Raynor would be so proud of him.) Sam kept bringing up the soul thing several more times until finally Bucky could not keep quiet any longer.

“What’s with this soul music? Is it, like…music for funerals?”

Sam stared at him. Bucky stared back.

“Okay, scoot over.” Sam squeezed on the chair next to Bucky so Bucky almost fell over on the other side. Then he reached over Bucky to grab the mouse, opened another tab and chose a Youtube video for Bucky to listen to. “This is soul music.”

It was highly uncomfortable because the chair was not made for two people and they both weren’t exactly small but Bucky was resolved to stay on the chair, at least with one thigh. Sam chose video after video, pointed out characteristic musical features, quoted parts of the lyrics and talked about the history or the significance the songs. It was still a lot and Bucky still did not get everything but he dutifully took notes to look up some things in detail later. When he had filled the sixth page in his notebook, Sam stopped the music lesson.

“So, 40s music. Any recommendations?”

Bucky turned to face him. They were awfully close. Sam’s eyes were somehow very soft, there was the hint of a smile on his lips and he looked very huggable in that thin turtleneck – and he looked genuinely interested in Bucky’s answer. Bucky felt hot shame flooding him. Sam could be aggravating and an outright asshole but he was too kind for this world. Too kind to Bucky.

“Nah,” he mumbled. “Music in the 40s was just for dancing, for fun. Not…not important like your music.”

“Oh, you can dance just fine to my music,” Sam said in mock outrage. “Come on.” He elbowed Bucky out of the chair and chose another Youtube video, then stood up, too.

“Soul music?” Bucky guessed when the first chords of an electric guitar could be heard.

“Funk. Close enough.”

Sam started to move to the music. It should be ridiculous, the weird moves he was doing, because that certainly wasn’t proper dancing, not the dancing Bucky knew anyway – no rehearsed dancing steps, more like a spontaneous swaying to the music and some of the moves were definitely ridiculous but Sam made them look, well, smooth.

“See, that’s dance music, too,” Sam said and came to stand in front of Bucky.

Bucky had no idea why it was even called dancing but he wasn’t going to say that because he did not want to offend Sam again.

But of course Sam had to nag him. “Spit it out.”

“What?”

“I can see the cyborg gears turning. What’s wrong with dancing?”

“Nothing. Just not what I’m used to.”

“You can choose the next song. For now – get those hips moving.” He nudged Bucky, and how could Bucky say no? After Sam had spent all that time educating him and only mildly making fun of him for his ignorance, he owed it to him.

“This is ridiculous, I feel ridiculous,” Bucky complained when he tried to copy some of Sam’s moves.

“You’re doing great,” Sam said but he was grinning, clearly enjoying how Bucky was making a fool of himself. “Maybe tone down the staring a bit.”

Well, if it made Sam happy… Bucky decided to give it his all and moved wildly to the rhythm, not caring if it could be called “dancing” or not. Nonetheless, he was a little relieved when the song was over.

“Your turn.” Sam indicated the computer.

Bucky had no idea which song to pick. He tentatively typed “Billie Holiday” into the search bar.

“Seriously?” Sam came up behind him. “You know Billie Holiday and say you don’t understand how music can capture the African-American experience?”

It was like a punch in the face. A well-deserved punch probably. “I mostly saw her as the singer of love songs, for slow dancing,” he admitted. “Never really…thought much about it.”

“So what, you’re going to slow dance with me, Barnes?” It wasn’t the usual good-natured banter but sounded more like an accusation.

“Look, Sam, I…” Bucky rubbed his temples. “Let’s head downstairs to that party to…” hopefully not dance. Whatever. Get out of this situation where, he feared, he was breaking rule #2 again.

“No, let’s do this.” Sam clicked on the first link and a swing tune started to play, Me, Myself and I. “Let’s slow dance if that’s what you do.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

It was certainly the most aggressive ask for a dance he had ever received. And he had never been this stiff during a dance before. He used to be a good dancer back in the days but now he felt clumsy when he placed his hand on Sam’s back while trying to keep as much distance between them as possible.

They had not even made eight uncoordinated steps when Sam started to speak. “Would it hurt you to use that brain of yours once in a while? It’s supposed to be working properly again, isn’t it? That’s what I heard at least.”

Doctor Raynor’s words came back to him, that he was free. To do what? Certainly to do better than hurt the man who had always had his back without Bucky ever having done anything to deserve that kind of loyalty.

“I’m sorry,” he said, unconsciously tightening his grip on Sam’s back.

“What for?”

Everything. “For being…kind of… thoughtless, I guess.”

Being so close, he could actually feel Sam exhale. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

“For being a huge dick,” Bucky offered.

“Better,” Sam grumbled. “Now, was that so hard?”

Bucky took a step back to gauge Sam’s reaction. He was relieved to find no traces of hurt or betrayal in Sam’s eyes, just the usual exasperation he put on when looking at Bucky. “Yes. Physically painful,” he tentatively tested the water. It was like a dance, back and forth, seeing how far you could get.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I hate you. And please stop staring.”

Bucky shrugged and pulled Sam close again, in fact, so close that he did not have to look into Sam’s eyes anymore but was now staring at his left shoulder. Sam was visibly relaxing in Bucky’s arms and wasn’t that a miracle, that he was still in Bucky’s arms, still allowed Bucky to hold him?

“Thank you,” Bucky mumbled into Sam’s shoulder.

“What for?”

Everything. Bucky tightened his hold on Sam (and silently thanked the autoplay function that started the next song because he was in no way ready to let go of Sam yet). “I’m a mess and you don’t deserve all that shit I throw at you.”

“Mm. You’re welcome.” Sam squeezed his shoulder, like a reassurance that he would continue to put up with all of Bucky’s bullshit. Too damn kind for this world. Good thing he had Bucky on his side who was going to beat up everyone who so much as tried to exploit Sam’s kindness. (Yes, he knew he was being hypocritical and should technically start with beating up himself.)

“Sharon was wrong,” Bucky said. “I’m not obsessed with the whole stars and stripes stuff. I didn’t follow Steve because he had that shield. And I’m – well, you might’ve noticed I’m here and not following that – that asshole. Sam, I think you should take the shield but, with or without the shield, I’ll follow you. Just so you know.”

Sam was silent for quite some time, they were just swaying gently to the music, until Bucky heard close to his ear, “That a threat, Buck?” He could almost sense the smile against his cheek.

“Just a fact. And I hate you too, by the way.”

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

ANGST KAZUMAJI ANON AND WOOF. FUCK. GOTTA LISTEN TO THOSE SONGS AFTER WORK. EXCITED. Your idea though OW. I haven't seen Y6 yet (I watch playthroughs don't have the console and my computer laughs at me trying to run the games) the streamer thats playing it finally got to Y6 and I am Refusing To Watch It. My heart can't take even starting the VOD.

You’re welcome for the music cc: 

A LOT of people haven’t seen 6 yet, so I did my best to get through that without spoilers ^^; Hope I haven’t ruined anything for you. And I feel that, my laptop and I have constant arguments and I’m not a good gamer anyway ^^; I should try Kiwami 1 someday though... I have it, I'm just Nervous about Being Bad ^^; 

Nice, following one streamer, well done c: I just hopped around to different playthroughs on youtube ^^; My wife and I binged all 7 games in I think 2 months, max. ^^; She crazy tho and a bad influence on me xp She likes to just sit and binge things and I am, understandably, weak for my wife <3 

6 isn’t so bad, I promise. You can do it c: It’s very pretty, you get to stare at Kiryu’s juicy ass the entire game, there’s lots of cute minigames of Kiryu with a baby, uh... *running out of nice things to say about 6* ...did I mention it’s very pretty? Fuck... Listen, I have... Feelings about game 6, but I don’t want to ruin it for anyone ^^; Everyone’s allowed to experience things in their own time and form their own opinions and I don’t want to deprive anyone of that. Please watch it and when you see it, feel free to come tell me about it c: 

And as a reward for all that, another angsty idea: 

The Nishikiyama Opera! 

So I composed the entire thing on a car ride with my wife last week and it’s WILD. Y’all ever see opera? If you’ve never seen an opera you SHOULD, they’re fucking Great. Operas are all about being The Most, comedy or tragedy, they’re all horny as shit and everyone is extra as fuck. If you living for the drama, you HAVE to get your ass to an opera. I’m lucky enough to live somewhere with a relatively robust opera community. And anyway, my point is, The Nishikiyama story? RIPE for an opera adaptation! 

First, you gotta know some of the opera tropes. There are two categories of opera, comedies which are kinda rare and tragedies which is... constantly. And operas are pretty good at telling you almost immediately which one they will be. There’s also a lot of meta about the voice parts themselves: 

Soprano - heroine, ingenue, beautiful. Will win if this is a comedy, will die if this is a tragedy. 

Alto - mothers & witches. Not the heroine. Will probably die regardless of comedy or tragedy. Unless she’s the villain, then she lives in a tragedy. 

Tenor - hero. Given the sexiest parts to sing. Sometimes unbearable. Everything is about Him. 

Baritone/Bass - fathers & villains. Gorgeous voice, never utilized properly. 

Knowing the vocal parts and what they classically represent is key to knowing who will win and who will die in the opera. For example, in Carmen, Carmen is actually an alto, not a soprano, and Don Jose is a tenor. This immediately tells you that shit’s fucked. Tenors are supposed to fall in love with sopranos, never altos. So this story can only end in tragedy because he’s interested in the wrong kind of voice part. There’s even a counterpoint of a soprano who is madly in love with him, and the baritone toreador for Carmen. They’re given their proper voice partners, but Don Jose still pursues Carmen which is a ginormous mistake by operatic tropes. 

So, opera education over, picture this: 

ACT I  Kiryu (soprano) is the loveliest yakuza in all the land! He’s just delightful. The Chorus sings his praises and he demonstrates his impeccable fighting ability. (Forgot to mention, any opera worth its salt has a Chorus and I will die on this hill.) The Audience is assured of his might and grace. 

Kiryu, obviously, does not want for admirers, but has not chosen to court anyone formally. 

Here enters Kiryu’s brother, Nishiki (bass). The Chorus explains that Nishiki is second to his brother in strength, but is formidable in his own right. Nishiki explains to the audience how he longs for Kiryu, how he covets him, his strength, his beauty. How after a lifetime together, affection has turned to love. Nishiki must have him. 

Kiryu hears none of this. Nishiki approaches to make his case when Majima (tenor) sweeps onto the scene. Majima is brazen and glib. The Chorus tells us to beware his charming smile, he is as dangerous as he is flirtatious. Majima has heard of Kiryu’s reputation and calls him into the street to defend his title. Kiryu responds and they do battle. 

In the midst of the battle, Majima finds himself won over by Kiryu’s skill and grace, his kindness and strength. Majima is bursting with love and there and then makes a proposal to Kiryu, offering his whole heart. 

Kiryu is stunned. Majima is not a weak fighter, he is not a braggadocio, despite appearances. He was a real challenge and Kiryu was not expecting the fight to take this turn. He is so surprised he cannot make an answer and politely, but quickly, leaves. 

Nishiki has been watching the entire time and finds his heart gripped by jealousy. He plots to claim Kiryu for himself and hates Majima bitterly, despite the fact that Kiryu has given no answer. Nishiki believes he knows his brother too well not to know that Kiryu returns his affections even if he won’t say. Nishiki leaves, concocting a plan. 

We find Kiryu at his balcony, lamenting his situation. Majima may have been exciting, but Kiryu’s no fool. He has no proof that Majima’s feelings will not waver in time. Majima steals into the garden beneath Kiryu’s balcony and professes his love once more. 

Kiryu is startled and makes to flee, but Majima sings so sweetly, entreats so gently, that Kiryu is compelled to stay. Majima doesn’t even ask again, just sings of his feelings. Kiryu, in his heart, is wooed by this. He may have been ready to answer when Nishiki interrupts. Majima quickly hides in the foliage. 

Nishiki counters with his own confession, his own proposal. Kiryu is shocked and saddened. He begins to sadly tell his brother that he cannot accept. Nishiki flies into a rage, demanding if there is someone else, someone else Kiryu prefers. Kiryu hesitates, but answers honestly that he has always seen Nishiki as a brother, regardless of any other feelings. He cannot accept Nishiki on the grounds of their previous relationship. 

Nishiki was expecting this. He reveals a vial of poison and threatens to drink it unless Kiryu will marry him. Majima gasps. Kiryu pleads with Nishiki not to be rash, but Nishiki only demands his answer, the vial nearly at his lips. 

Kiryu swallows back tears and collapses to his knees. Sorrowfully, he agrees, unable to bear the responsibility of his brother’s death, and the act finishes to the sound of clamoring wedding bells. 

ACT II The lights come up on Kiryu and Nishiki in their home. Nishiki is pacing the floor and making increasingly outlandish suggestions for things to do. Kiryu says yes to all of them, gently and politely. Nishiki’s frustration and annoyance increases with every yes. Eventually he snaps at Kiryu, demanding why he won’t fight him, demanding why he will give no more reaction than a placid yes. Kiryu shrugs helplessly and tries to soothe his brother, but Nishiki won’t be soothed. 

They have been married less than a year and it has been like this the entire time, getting worse by the day. Nishiki can see the pain he’s causing his brother, but can’t stop himself. He loves him too greedily to stop. He departs, hoping to take his mind off things. 

Kiryu is left alone in the house and sings a longer, sadder version of his lament from the balcony. Distantly, we hear strains of Majima’s love song, now broken and echoing. 

The scene changes and we see Kiryu sat down in a busy cafe. At first we assume he’s alone, but people move and we can see he is sitting across from Majima. They do not touch. Their careful, polite space around each other is conspicuous. 

Kiryu is tired, he looks wan, almost sick. Majima sings heartbrokenly, telling Kiryu he needs to take care of himself. He is desperate to take Kiryu away from all this, and asks several times, but Kiryu always sighs and shakes his head no. Majima knows Kiryu will not break his word once given, he is too good and honorable for that. But he cannot help singing for him all the same. He cannot touch, he will not permit himself to touch, but he can sing. 

Kiryu eventually cannot take the heartache anymore and departs sorrowfully. Majima looks after him, just as sad. Nishiki is revealed to have been spying on them the entire time. He confronts Majima, furious and accusatory. He insists that he and Kiryu have been having an affair. Majima simply looks at him and shrugs. Nishiki screams for Majima to admit it, to admit that Kiryu loves him, has always loved him, this whole time. Majima only says that Nishiki knows Kiryu best. He will not confirm or deny anything Nishiki says. Shaken and stymied, Nishiki flees. 

We return to Kiryu’s balcony, where he sits, silent and pale. Nishiki storms in and begins to berate Kiryu with his accusations. He is half-mad now, not seeming to hear Kiryu’s denials. Kiryu professes over and over that only Nishiki is his husband, that he loves only Nishiki. Nishiki cannot accept this as true. Nishiki screams that Kiryu ought to ask him for a divorce. Kiryu cannot claim to want a divorce. He gave his word. Nishiki reveals that he had been watching them in the cafe, that he knows all, the secret contents of Kiryu’s heart. Kiryu manages some resistance at last and asks Nishiki for proof. What proof of his indiscretions? What proof of adultery? What has Kiryu done that has angered his husband-brother so? 

Nishiki has none. Kiryu has not done anything wrong, not in word, not in act. Whatever thoughts he might accuse Kiryu of having are ephemeral and will never be real. Still... Nishiki saw how they looked together and his heart was sore. He knows he has stolen Kiryu from what was rightfully his. Moved to regret, Nishiki withdraws the vial of poison again. 

Kiryu gasps and tries to prevent his brother. 

Nishiki swallows the poison quickly, insisting this will set things right, this will free his brother. He says he did it for love. He falls. 

Kiryu collapses next to him, sobbing. 

The final scene is Nishiki’s funeral. Kiryu kneels next to his brother’s grave, all in black. He sings of his regrets, of his sorrow. Majima stands close by, but still not touching. He does not look at the grave, only at Kiryu. His broken love song is the last thing we hear. 

The End. 

...this opera was a tragedy ^^; 

[kanene-yaaay-o-retorno]

You’re a WHAT

Kanene’s Notes:

I’m weak for carzy scenarios  and glitter, so BOOOM!! Why don’t get these two things together??? :D)/ This fic marks the end of my break, I will be (trying to) going back to my old projects and probably won’t be writing for some weeks kjnhgfvghjkjhg. Wish me luck! <33

This wasn’t suppose to take so much to be written but I lost my PC and life got in the way :v   Buuuut! I manage to finish it and I already count this as a victory! xP

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Remy and Roman. They’re friendos yay :3. Oh, and this is pretty crazy. Context: The morning after Black Friday when you’re grumpy and wanting to kick the society in the face. A LOT of swearing, Patton does not approve.  

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* Something around 2.900 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Try and have fun with new hobbies, be safe, talk with the one that you love, drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

                             [~*~]

Roman thought himself as a really lucky human being. Unbelievable lucky.

 It wasn't due to the apartment where he currently lived - Too much dull for his personal taste and space, getting even smaller from the day he admitted a messy, sassy and with sleep problems roommate, since Roman just started his musical career and couldn't afford an own house yet. - or the fact that was finally able to pursue his dream after years and years of just picturing, painting this moment on his future, only to find out his fantastic breathtaking and incredible goals weren’t nearly close of the cold reality, at least for now (Who would know that, after umpteenth days of hard studying and training he would need years and years of experience in order to even START wondering in get out of his partial-time job on that Electronic Store) or any other reason someone would be able to consider himself a receptacle of pure, brute luck, enlightened by the spotlights of the good, pleasant destiny...

 ... Or at least the most pleasant it could be in the horrible and exhaustive middle of the night after a whole day filled with his attempts to survive and treat respectfully the unmerciful, dirty jungle that humanity was at Black Friday. Something around fifteen  hours working with massive hordes of unscrupulous zombies starved for a sale and able to even kill and die (more likely the first option) to get what they want and with souls (if they still got one) free of any slight sight of education, patience and morals to be inserted in a society which, as it seemed, was equally rotten as them. View point only proved as Roman was obligated to be working after his shift to "clean all the mess" - more like hide the bodies of exhausted warriors after such bloody battle. – the store because those sons of a...

 "... Bitch, YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!!!!" The poor, frustrated employed shouted to nowhere specific, his face turning towards the sky, seeking in some way to show his all his hate to the cinematography - because this was too much coincidence to NOT be part of a movie or some random fanfic on the black hole that was internet - rain falling at full force leading the weather to became even more freezing as soaked them both with its cool, thick drops.

Anyway, what he was daydreaming about?

"Roman." Oh, yeah, the reason why he viewed himself as a truly lucky person. "My gurl, if you try to impersonate a fucking, dramatic, bitch crow in my ear even again, I swear in the name of my life juice bean that I'm going to KILL you with my bare hands and these sunglasses."

 At least his best friend since, honestly, diapers, who coincidentally was his roommate and even more coincidentally, his coworker was just screwed as Roman himself. Which automatically made the duo less screwed, however equally pissed off, something that neither of them discovered if that was a good or bad thing, yet.

 "Fuck you, Remy" Roman whispered between an tired yawn, too much tired to even think about some nickname or to put real heat in his words as he got instinctively closer to the other, the one called taking off his jacket and lazily throwing it over their heads, doing his best to cover they both with the small available black leathered fabric, the act intertwined with grumpy grumbling and motions which would probably slap Roman's face if he wasn't careful. "I'm the one who buys your coffee."

 "Having my incredible, unique personality in your life should be motivation enough for you to buy me the entire Starbucks Company, be glad I'm weak to your cute face and am going easy on ya."

 " 'Cute'? Excuse me, I'm the most handsome, hottest and fabulous man you will ever met in your lowly life, mortal."

 Remy snorted at this "Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe, but if it's going to be like that your ego soon will have to pay his part at the rent."

 "Well, this 'ego' here was the only thing between your highness and jail after stopping you from committing all those murders today."

 "Bold of you to assume I wouldn't use my contacts to hide the evidences." Their tune were already completely sleepy, bodies instinctively leaning onto each other as the words stumbled, mixed and almost lost themselves in the soundly wind as slipped from their lips. Roman just laughed.

 "Well, if by ‘contacts’ mean 'Virgil' good luck getting him out of his bed on his free day. You would became the fucking new King Arthur." Roman rubbed his eyes, trying to physically force his eyelashes to not close, a new yawn finding its way to his mouth. He didn't even know about what they were talking anymore.

 "I roll the dice to cast Badass Nerd Bitch."

 “Logan??”

 “He likes to study nature stuff, especially at night, I’m sure he already knows some good spots to hide bodies. Glasses.”

 “Glasses?”

 “Glasses.”

 “OMG, the anime character with glasses.” Roman stopped, his mouth wide open as if all the secrets of the universe had been revealed to him.

 “Exactly.” Remy extended each syllable, grinning smugly.

 “I’ve never-“

“THIS IS A ROBERY!!”

 The sentence, which appeared to came out from nowhere, cut the air in a harsh, sharp tune, breaking the barriers and tying them up in the same place in a frozen position and wide eyes staring astonished the hooded form and their unreadable features under the bad illumination of the light poles helped by the increased storm. The wind trespassed them, stirring their clothes and making the muscles shake both of the alone employees in the middle of a dark, empty street at the dawn, even if the dangerously shiny knife directed towards their direction still in a hatred silence. 

 “My.” Roman knew he probably should be afraid, the freezing feeling running across his veins and frightening his brain and actions as infected his words in an unspeakable terror impossible to ignore nor escape. “fucking.” However, the only thing that slipped through his next was the purest, deepest, truest... “ASS.” Indignation.

 Roman thought about a lot of things. He thought about running away, grabbing Remy’s arm and sprinting across the street, about scream in the top of his lungs the waterfall of swearing already racing half way to his throat and even about kicking the knife out of the other’s hands and then kicking him - with a couple of cool moves he saw in some actions films - together with their frecking audacity to try to rob him of all the people in the world. Roman, who asked himself if he would have enough money to eat in the next week with a concerning frequency, who wondered if this is the life he will have until the end of his existence, if he will ever be able to accomplish his dreams.

 His gaze changed to Remy, who was paralyzed, trembling between the poor light of the street and the massive rain. Roman swallowed. Everything was in his hands.

 For a piece of Roman felt the strange urge to spill to the figure before him the story of his life, all his tries, all his battles, his everyday fights to make his dreams real. Blow by blow. Day by day. A life destined to go after everything he wished to himself, everything he wanted to life, to experience, to savor, to do everything in his hands to ignore and one day maybe, hopefully forget all the ghosts - these ones always accompanied by those emotionless, sharp whispers - asking, doubting nonstop if he ever would be able to do all of this, if he was doing the rights thing, if it was really worth all of it.

 However, before the first word even slipped of Roman’s tongue or his mind came fully back to Earth, Remy was already positioning himself strategically between the robber and his friend, the currently only one with the leather jacket falling on his shoulders. However, Remy didn’t seem nearly soaked as he should be, and for a heartbeat, the same one which Remy moved his hands to his jeans’ pocket, his fingers touching and firmly holding something there, Roman could swear that the unexpectedly shiver running across his spine wasn’t due the cold wind.

 Nor the sentence hurled in the clouds.

 “You know what?? Fuck it.”

 And then he unsheathed his magic wand.

 Roman loved with the entirety of his heart all kind of magic, he could easily spend an entire afternoon (which he already had, by the way) listing his favorites movies, musicals and stories with that theme. That also could be easily said by the thousands and thousands of worlds, universes and lifes he invented – in and out of his head - about the subject trough his childhood and handful of teenage years, random ideas and inspirations appearing and dancing in his mind until nowadays. If that only wasn’t enough to convince someone then the umpteenth memories of mornings and afternoons bathed in the smell of books, rocked by the calm silene of the public library as he turned one more page, his back lightly aching by the bad position assumed behind the shelters, in a place he strategically found and claimed as his own Bridge to Terabithia, enjoying every moment as if nothing else mattered. Perhaps you wouldn’t even need to swim in such deep, ancient waters to find out his love, since at least fifty percent of his day was dedicated to shout, hummer or murmur Disney songs.

 However, as rays of pure energy  - shiny and kind of glittery one - involved and swirled from Remy’s, who now was floating a few centimeters above the ground, wand in stripes that got lighter and lighter, begging to spin faster around the aforementioned, creating a spere of a power stunning and big enough to stop the rain in the corner.

 The silence resulting from the lack of the storm didn’t had the opportunity to fill the moment, being obligated to give its space to a soft, intense melody whispered in their ears. The notes standing some more moments in the air, the beating following the changes in the shadowed figure inside the spere. Hesitations taking over the loud, quick heartbeats when the song finally stopped.

 The power’s spere finally exploded, the impact leading to an unbelief and intensive force push both human meters away.

 “Get. Out.”  Remy’s tune still the same, his form – Now adorned by a gleaming crop top, his fluttering skirt over shorts floating in synchrony with the veils which surrounded his clothes and wrapping his arms, the ending spreading in the air as a bunch of angry powered and fancy snakes. - even with the new vestments full of glitter (this probably would be a hell to get off, later) still the same, his gaze, powerful – a new meaning pouring from this word – strong, still the same. But yet…

 Yet his wide eyed, heart hammering in his chest friend since he could remember found himself struggling to connect the same Remy who he had known – if he could still say that? -  all his life with the same being who gleamed dangerously before him.

 The magic wand danced in a quick flick and a trash can came of what seemed nowhere to hit the wobbled and absolutely terrified robber, who fell with a soft thumph in the ground, unconscious.

 “-man, Roman!!! Don’t just stay standing there like a tree, help me here, gurl!” Suddenly the called snapped from his own sea of thoughts, submerging and astonished blinking in Remy’s direction. The rain started to fell on them again, and when their eyes met, when Roman saw the same guy who spent afternoons climbing trees and pretending they were knights and dragons attacking or saving the world, when he recalled the silent sleepovers where they just sat near of each other enjoying the mutual company, the grumpy mornings in their apartment, the comfort hugs, the looks full of words, the smiles filled with meaning, the friendship stuffed with so many, many memories... 

 Nostalgia. The feeling that everything was changed albeit something… something important always stayed. Roman felt, truly felt it and fixed his glare into that brilliant – quite literally - glare adorned with a ‘I’m about to punch your cocky face if you keep fucking narrating every freaking second of your life, ya bitch’ he realized... 

 It was Remy.

 He took a deep breath, moving closer and gradually relaxing as the aforementioned focused in trying to lift the guy, swearing more frequently than raindrops fell from the sky.

 “Remy?”

 “Yeah?”

 “First crush.”

 The other stopped, frowning confused. Roman didn’t quiver, feeling he deserved some sort of answer. At least about this. “What?”

 “My first crush. Who?”

 “Kovu.” Remy maybe was a bit cold hearted, maybe he wasn’t the best with human interactions or knew exactly what Roman wanted with that… but he knew Roman enough to realize this was important. Essentially when the said seemed to relax, his form untensing itself and being allowed to get closer of the magic being.

 “Okay. Okay, okay…” Roman took a deep breath, grounding himself. Their gaze met, his next words coming a little calmer. “Okay.”

 “Please don’t make me sing that serenate you made for him. I’m gonna fucking quit.”

 “Oh, shut up!! Our first love is something special, mister I-Can’t-Choose-Between-The-Beast-And-The-Beauty.”

 Remy decided to ignore the words, slightly lowing his sunglasses with his special Judgmental ‘Bold of you to assume I have enough shame to be mocked’ Look. Roman just flipped in his direction, taking advantage that the other’s hands were occupied.

 It was still Remy, with a whole more of style and glitter – Why are there so much glitter here?? - but it was just Remy. Like just any other day.

 Before he even realized, Roman was already at his friend’s - and as it seems a magical being - side, helping him to carry the robber’s body to somewhere dry so he wouldn’t die of hypothermia.

 “Why don’t you- Ouch!! My feet, dammit!” His breaths came out as puffs, the effort leading to his already exhausted muscles only protest even more and very much probably curse him later with sore movements for the audacity to transport anything heavier than a pen. “Why don’t you use your... Wizard magic or something to carry him??”

 “Oh. My. Gosh. Roman, you are sooo intelligent, why aren’t you in Harvard? Ow! Ow! Ow!!” Remy’s sarcasm was cut when the other kicked, or did his best to with their actual position, him in protest.  “Homophobic.” He exhaled a mix of irritation and a snort, receiving a playful punch in his arm by their inside joke.  “I’m your Fairy Godmother, brainless. Unless it was you laid in this stupid, cold ground I can’t use my magic anymore... Except if this is someone of your family but I doubt-”

 “Wait, wait, wait, WAIT!!! YOU ARE MY FAIRY GODM-”

 “No, no way, nope, we are NOT having this conversation right now.” Remy, the Fairy Godmother let go of the unconscious body in a way that probably will make the guy wake up sore, perhaps with a concussion even, directing his index finger in Roman’s direction in a deep, determined stare full of darkness and things that Roman could swear would make Remy be expelled from the group of Friendly Fairy GodmotherS  or whatever... thing he was inserted. “Let me tell you what we are doing right now: We are going to home, change our clothes then I’m getting coffee and you will get sleep so I don’t have to face nor care about the freak consequences of my damn actions.”

 ...

 “That...” Roman stop, as if was considering his next words. Remy’s face just scrunched in a bigger, firmer frown. “That would be hella scary if you didn’t look like someone who just stole a store of glitter and got attacked by the gay, glitterly, shiny fairies who protected the place.”

 “Go fuck yourself. I’m locking you outside when we get there.”

 “Noo, please don’t! My evil stepmother didn’t let me go to the prince castle and now I need help! Crying emoji, crying emoji.” Roman mocked, imitating sad sobs and sniffles as quick his pace to follow the other, who flipped him.

 “I’m this far from knock you out with my magical wand and then you will see who is the evil stepmother.” His wand gleamed in warning, the red color getting mixed and trembled by the fast movements of his veils, one of them getting dangerously next to Roman’s face, who cleverly got silent for some heartbeats, the sound of the rain slowly calming their heartbeats and rocking them, the tiredness gaining the space which, piece by piece, was being unhanded by their adrenaline.

 They arrived home, both still quiet, feeling free as a relieved sign left their lips. Remy threw his soaked jacket in some dark corner, the bed being the only thing which was allowed to take over all his thoughts and will. 

 An awed gasp echoed behind him and he immediately regretted his move.

 “YOU HAVE WINGS????”

 Before his eyelashes closed, the shiny of the wand disappearing gradually as an ungodly amount of sleepiness gained complete control over his body, relaxing each one of his fibers and as a warm, magic good feeling fills every single cell in his being, Roman wondered if ‘Fuck it’ was the name of Remy’s spell.

[wlw-imagines-blog]

I Can Say it Without Words | (Peggy Carter x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Peggy Carter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Major Character loss, and smut, i guess

Word Count: 2k

Summary: I can make you feel good.

Anon: Hello sweetie!!! I just loooove your blog so much and your writing it’s so pretty!!! But I noticed there’s no Peggy in here :( so I’d like to request the smutish write you can post, my queer ass (I’m still figuring out if I’m Bi or Pan, so let’s say queer/not straight ass) will love you forever!!! Maybe a secret relationship between Reader and Peggy, Peg being sad bc she lost Steve and reader comforting her leading to smut and fluff and love… Pleaseeeeeeeee

A/N: Ask and you shall receive. 

***

Whenever Peggy Carter walked into S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters, the whole room seemed to hold its breath. The women at the switchboards seemed to stop and watch in awe as she sauntered by, skirt skimming their chairs, hat tipped low to cover her eyes. The male agents, looking up from their files and typewriters to cast scornful glances at her, hoping to tear her down with curled lips and narrowed eyes. They were foolish to think so.

When Agent Carter stepped into the office, you felt your heart press into your ribs, creating this nervous, wonderful pressure. Your hands became fidgety; brushing at the hair around your ears, shuffling papers, twisting your fountain pen.

Every woman that worked in the office shared a feeling of pride at how she was unapologetic, combative, even, towards nitwits like Agent Thompson and Agent Dooley. 

As she strolled into the office, head up, shoulders back, you felt a warmth prickle the back of your neck. She wore a dark, navy blue ensemble with a shockingly pink hat, the one you remember being on her desk, the day you were hired to work at S.H.I.E.L.D. 

It had been a cold October evening when Agent Carter interviewed you. Rain was splattering against the windows of her office as she reviewed your resume and criminal record check. The warm lights of the room coaxed you into a strange sense of comfort. You remembered the tight feeling in your stomach, and the sweat on your palms and brow. On her desk was the fucshia hat and plenty of files and paper, all scattered yet organized. What attracted your attention was the only picture frame on her desk. It held the image of a young, sickly blond man, wearing a white t-shirt and dog tags. His resemblance to Captain America was stunning, but, that man was far too small and skinny to be him.

“I’m going to be perfectly honest, Miss. Y/L/N, your resume and letter of recommendation is flawless,” she had said, interrupting your thoughts. “But you have yet to give me a reason as to why you want to join S.H.I.E.L.D. “

Agent Carter’s hair curled perfectly over her shoulder, the dark brown contrasted the cream of her blouse perfectly. Her chocolate eyes bore into you, like she already had you figured out.

You straightened your back. “Agent Carter. All my life, people have told me I did not have the aptitude to become a government agent. I was never smart enough, never strong enough. never man enough.” You resisted the urge to sneer at the word. “Part of me wants to prove myself to the nay-sayers. Another part wants to be a piece of something bigger that just me. But, all of me wants to make a difference, even if its a small one.”

You thought you saw the ghost of a smile on her red lips. Agent Carter stood, smoothing her navy skirt. You stood too, and accepted the hand shake she offered. 

“Miss. Y/L/N, I expect you here at seven a.m, sharp, ready for your training,” Agent Carter’s eyes glinted, clearly excited at your prospects. “Don’t be late.”

As December began, you were still in the preliminary stages of training under Agent Carter’s watchful eye; learning how to operate different firearms, mastering the art of safe-cracking, and properly educating yourself on espionage. 

You adjusted the lapels of your blazer, watching Agent Carter approach you.

“Agent Y/L/N,” She greeted. “Down to the basement, I want to see if you’re still sharp with your gun. Go on ahead, I need to clock in.” 

You nodded before leaning in. “I’d watch out, ma’am, Thompson’s on a rampage this morning; he heard about the promotion Dooley’s planning on giving you.”

Her lips twisted, as though she was fighting back a smile. “Thank you for the heads up, Y/N, I’ll keep my eyes out.”

You grinned and made your way to the practice room, artfully dodging Agent Thompson, who’s nostrils were flared and face was red.

***

“You’re getting better, y/n,” Agent Carter scribbled something down onto a clipboard. “There’s a definite improvement in accuracy. But if your hold it like this-”

She wrapped an arm around you, hand gripping yours. “Keeping your arms steady. Don’t close one eye.”

Peggy’s voice was like honey in your ears, breath hot against your neck. You fought to keep composure. The room was spinning, but you managed to keep your hand steady on the trigger, pointed at the target on the other side of the room.

Her hand rested on your nip, and you could feel the heat radiate through your slacks.

“There,” Agent Carter murmured. “Pull it.”

You pulled the trigger, and shots rang out in the cement room. 

The breathe you were holding escaped in a heavy sigh that you were certain Agent Carter heard.

“Agent Carter?” Dooley’s voice shook the two of you out of your stupor. “I want to talk to you. In my office, now.”

“Thank you, Agent Carter,” you said, unable to look at her.

“Please,” she did not remove her hand from yours. “Call me Peggy.”

You nodded, throat suddenly too tight to speak. Her eyes seemed to say a million things 

Then she was gone.

When you pulled on your jacket to leave for the night, all but one office was dark and empty. Agent Carter was still in her office, sitting behind her desk, cradling the picture frame of the blond man.

“Well,” you murmured. “This isn’t how I expected you to celebrate your big promotion.”

She smiled, still looking down. “How did you expect it?”

“I don’t know; a little gloating, a lot of drinking,” You shrugged. “Maybe some debauchery disguised in the form of dancing.”

She laughed, warm and deep, but incredibly weak. “I’m afraid I don’t dance. Not anymore.”

Her finger traced the glass of the picture, and you nodded. She was not going to open up if your pushed it.

You cleared your throat. “Peggy, I’m planning on going out tonight. Perhaps we can celebrate together? Maybe buy a few drinks and talk?” You probed gently. If she interpreted this as a date, you were either screwed, or getting screwed. 

She finally looked up, and you noticed hoe red and watery her eyes were. Peggy managed to smile. “Are you asking me on a date, Y/N?”

“Maybe,” You leaned against the door frame. “Only if you want me to.”

Peggy seemed to think over her options, she was almost unreadable. “Where do you have in mind?” 

You grinned, offering your hand. I know a place, if you’re ready to party.”

***

“Come on, honey”, you giggled, pulling Peggy along. “This will help you forget about everything.”

Mona’s was a quiet-looking building of red brick with iron bars on blacked out windows. There was a tall, stocky butch out front, hair cropped and gelled back, wearing a striped button down and slacks. She took the cigarette from behind her ear and in one fluid motion, lit it and took a deep drag. It dangled between her lips. 

“Hey, Bonnie,” You grinned at the woman. 

She offered you a coy smile. “Long time no see, Y/N. Who’s this?”

You wrapped an arm around Peggy. “She’s my guest, Bon. Is it alright that she comes in tonight?”

Bonnie sized her up, and Peggy did not back down. She looked Bonnie in the eye, chin raised. You were caught off guard when Peggy winked at her. 

The corner of Bonnie’s mouth raised. “Yeah, she’s good. Come on in.” 

You opened the door, revealing a landing, and two staircases; one that led to upstairs apartments, and one that led to the basement. As the door closed, you faced Peggy in the cramped area. 

“Peggy, I’m sure you’re aware of what kind of pub this is.”

“Honestly, I’m a touch surprised, Y/N.”

You faltered. “Peggy, this is... it’s a-”

“A lesbian bar?” she asked kindly. “I’m alright with it, Y/N. In fact, I’m more alright with it that you would believe.”

“What?”

“You might find this hard to believe, but I’m quite familiar with Mona’s,” She studied her nails, feigning disinterest. “I’m what you might call a frequent patron.”

This information slapped you in the face. Staying silent, you worked through the information as Peggy continued to speak. 

“Y/N, I’m trusting you with this information. No one at S.H.I.E.L.D. can ever find out about the both of us, okay?” 

You snapped out of your daze. “Of course! I’m not a ditz. I know a thing or two about secrecy.”

“Good,” that easy smile returned to her face. “If you’d like, Y/N, we can still have a few drinks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. I still want to celebrate my promotion.”

You grinned, “Lead the way, mademoiselle.”

The bar was a touch dingy, not bringing in enough funds to keep it completely spotless and well lit, but you found a table for yourself and Peggy. You called out to the bartender to send a bottle of the finest champagne. The pub was moderately crowded with other women all chatting and drinking, paying you no mind. The two of you listened to the jazz from the gramophone, drinking and laughing about the goons at the office. 

“It’s infuriating!” Peggy laughed, wiping tears from her eyes. “Thompson wants to be a secretary, not an agent! It felt so good when Dooley gave me the promotion.”

You snickered, champagne sloshing onto the table. “I’ve never seen him so angry.” The bottle was empty, and the clock read one in the morning. “It’s getting late, Peg, I’ve gotta get going. Walk me home?”

The two of you took a cab back to your apartment, and Peggy walked you to the door.

You played with the buttons of her jacket. She swallowed audibly. “So, are you going to invite me in or not?”

The two of you barely made it to the bedroom.

Your lips bumped against Peggy’s neck before latching onto her jaw. You stumbled, pressing her against the bedroom door. 

“All you have to say is yes,” You said softly into her skin. “That’s all I need, Peggy.”

She groaned as your lips stayed so tantalizingly far from her mouth. “Fuck me, Y/N, yes.”

Driven by lust, you pressed your lips to hers, letting Peggy open her mouth at her own pace, coaxing your tongue into her mouth. Her hands roamed down your chest, sliding over your breasts until they found your belt. 

Peggy pulled away, dragging you closer to the bed by the buckle. You were surprised at how breathless you were, panting as she began to unbutton your shirt. You shed it and your trousers quickly, helping her out of her skirt and blouse, sucking a dark hickey onto her collar bone.

She stood there in her lacy, black panties, gasping when your fingers brushed against her breasts.

A hand gripped the back of your head, keeping you in place, tongue lapping at her chest. 

“Fuck,” Peggy groaned. You slipped your hands down her thighs, pressing against the soft flesh of her ass. “Bed. Now.”

You fell on top of her, straddling her waist. Lips brushing against hers, delicate, then rough and filthy. Your hand slowly traveled down Peggy’s chest and navel, resting on her hip. You played with the hem of her panties.

“You’re so beautiful,” Your voice was barely above a whisper. Peggy’s hand gripped your wrist, guiding it beneath her under garment, pulling them off.

As you pressed against her, she let out a shaking gasp. Every movement created a reaction; sometimes quiet, delicious mews, other times they were loud, pleasured moans. 

Your hands never left Peggy, pushing in and out of her tight heat, hooking your fingers to brush against her G spot. When you pulled away, she let out a disappointed noise. 

You replaced your hand with your thigh. You sighed as Peggy shifted her hips, dragging herself over the skin of your thigh, warm and wet. She moved faster and faster, her moans becoming higher and higher.

“Fuck,” she hissed, teeth clenched, arms thrown around your neck. Peggy cried out, falling into pleasure, back arching into you. You collapsed onto her, breathless.

She pressed a messy kiss your forehead before pulling the sheets over the both of you. You wrapped an arm around her waist, resting your head on her shoulder.

“Goodnight, Peg,” you murmured sleepily, nuzzling closer.

She ran a hand through your hair. “Goodnight, love.”

***

A/N: This is long as heck.

[retrauxpunk]

sv 6.04

spoiler-filled recap post under the cut

WHAT THE FUCK

i swear every single episode is gonna have me feeling like that because IT’S SO INTENSE i think i’ve forgotten how intense this show is because it’s prior to the release of s6 it’s been 2 years since i watched new episodes? and so i just know the storylines quite well and am familiar with everything?

but jesus christ!!

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

okay let’s start at the beginning:

FUCK ethan!!

WHAT THE FUCK

I had the vague inkling of a feeling that bringing on ethan would be the same as bringing on the carver, russ hanneman, jack barker, etc. in that it would seem to be good at first and then it would magnificently blow up AND THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED WHAT THE FUCK

there were so many intertwined storylines in this episode? i feel like there were more than usual? there was: richard and his conflict with ethan; gavin’s book thing; monica’s misadventures with feminism; gilfoyle’s budding friendship with john stafford (I STAN); jared’s story with his parents and gwart

THERE WAS SO MUCH.

last episode my fingers couldn’t keep up with my thoughts because it was such an amazing uplifting kickass episode, but this time i just feel, i dunno, kind of clogged with feelings/thoughts because there was a lot that happened in this episode and it was................ MOSTLY SAD????? mostly unpleasant?????? like it was a great episode but all the things that happened to the characters were like ... real shitty

HOLY SHIT the guy who plays ethan is SO GOOD at playing the role of the emotionally manipulative jackass prick who mistreats you and then acts like you’re the shitty one if you don’t ‘play along with the fun’ and so on like HOLY MOTHERFUCKER those types of people are the fucking worst and god i wish richard’s punch hand gotten him in the mouth instead or something (more on that later)

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he was so terrible to richard! it fucking hurt! i was with dinesh! i watched richard’s balls getting kicked and my balls hurt in solidarity!! fuck!!

????!

richard what are you doing

it was, no lie, a little nice and fuzzy and heartwarming to see dinesh like sticking up for richard and trying to help him

even if it’s through the ‘dumbest thing i’ve ever seen’, that alpha male video. 

WHAT WAS THAT

THAT WAS LEGIT like something out of IT’S ALWAYS SUNNY IN PHILADELPHIA what the FUCK

i don’t object to it being in the show because, y’know, it’s within the bounds of the absurdities of the show and so on, but

WHAT! that had the exact same energy as the fight milk ads!!

i really like that richard’s initial reaction was ‘this is the dumbest thing i’ve ever seen’. what a shame he succumbed to it!!! ........but at least it wasn’t something worse that he succumbed too i guess???

POOR RICHARD

this is one of those episodes where i am entirely on richard’s side and have no complaints about him, he didn’t do anything wrong

omg i just remembered when he caught ethan’s eye in the opening scene and waved him in because of ‘dumb social shit’ (#relatable) ................WAS THAT BECAUSE HE WAS REFLEXIVELY REGRESSING TO HIS DOWNTRODDEN WAYS from when he was ethan’s report and was consistently having to defer to him and put up with his shit? and that’s why when ethan motions to like invite himself into richard’s office, that’s why richard just invites him in?

yeah that’s my opinion now

........

IT HURTS

IT HURTS WATCHING RICHARD GET KICKED AROUND BY ETHAN

WHAT THE FUCK DUDE

this is one of those times when richard’s like, trying to do a good/right thing and be nice and so on WHEN HE SHOULDN’T BE. like when he was ‘trying to respect’ erlich by refusing to hire jared patakian despite erlich giving him his blessing. and (to a lesser extent) when he went to have those chats with seth after gilfoyle stole the endframe login credentials, and when he gifted laurie some pied piper credits (where they credits? don’t remember the word)

UGH he was trying to be ~chill~ and not so uptight and so on BUT NO THIS IS NOT THE TIME RICHARD and no this is not what being a cool/nice person is! it is not putting up with this kind of shit!

i just felt so bad for him!!!

WHAT THE FUCK IS ETHAN’S PROBLEM

god what a cock

I’M SO GLAD RICHARD PUNCHED HIM IN THE FACE and honestly??? i wish the punch had fucking landed!! for once i’m sick of richard being an ineffectual klutz! i want him to try to kick ass and succeed!!! god!!

that’s what i want out of season 6, one (1) time when richard tries to do something physically badass like socking a deserving douchebag in the face and actually succeeds

can’t fucking believe he bought into dinesh’s dumbfuck alpha male video. UGH RICHARD

i mean at..........at least it makes him........feel better? idk

(in my personal hc richard manages to watch that fucking always sunny style video and not develop misogynistic tendencies as consequence because that would be lame if it happened)

I JUST HAD TO TAKE A BREAK FROM WRITING THIS RECAP BECAUSE IT WAS SUCH AN INTENSE EPISODE

6.3 was intense in the same way that like an adrenaline-fuelled ultimately victorious battle is intense, or like, idk, the lovechild of MDMA and acid???

6.4 is intense like the COMEDOWN. god

IT IS THE COMEDOWN, it’s the terrible fucking low that occurs in the wake of the soaring high of buying hooli!! fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!

okay so that’s the richard storyline covered

um

y’know i was suspicious when ethan wanted to move things onto hooliphones, i thought it was maybe some kind of thing to sabotage pied piper in some way? but now i see maybe it’s just a way to get himself a job. and the bullying of richard is a way to soothe his own fragile ego i guess? hmm

gilfoyle’s friendship with john stafford! I LOVE IT! i love that the guy from the underground pits of jack barker’s box plan has returned! and he announces each hooliphone the way he announced each box ... excellent callback. AND THEY PLAY CHESS! AND HE BEAT GILFOYLE EVERY SINGLE TIME! YES!!! 

GILFOYLE WHY DID YOU DELETE HIS FRIEND REQUEST

YOU WERE GONNA ACCEPT IT

YOUR CURSOR WAS HOVERING

WHY THE FUCK

some kind of lame-as-fuck attempt to maintain an idea of power in the dynamic? viewing the vulnerability of accepting a friend request as somehow being weak/lame?? just upset because he lost so many chess games??

hope it’s the the last one becaues that’s the least lame/sad of the three i thinkkkk

also his fucking feed full of dinesh hate. what a loser lmao perfectly suited to dinesh

i want them to kiss

ummmmmmmm monica!! lmao i enjoyed how they made her a female character who is successful but not actually personally interested in being a feminist activist, because i think that’s a thing that’s pretty real/relatable. like, you can be a woman who believes in gender equality but who doesn’t actually do stuff to actively advocate for it, and i think that’s a lot of people, and honestly i don’t think i’m quite like monica (i wouldn’t say the things she said about foxhole HAHAHHA) but i relate to it! i’m not a very politically active person at all, my ~activism is limited to being generally educated on stuff and calling out/discussing shitty things if friends/colleagues say them. so i guess i felt seen? #guiltyfeminist

when monica went to the panel........... and then priyanka totally outshone her ........ i felt a little bad for monica but she was pawning off foxhole to priyanka entirely selfishly because she herself didn’t want to be involved and so i didn’t feel too bad for her :pp

good on priyanka! all that stuff  she’s doing sounds awesome!

except the beginning where she referenced her ‘network of awesome women coders’ or something like that, i found that phrasing uhhhhhhh cringey. cliquey. didn’t like it, but that’s just my subjective feeling. also i suspect it was meant to be a little satirical of uberwokeness so fair :P

richard giving monica foxhole ‘for optics’ and then doing the handwavey ‘just make it work, for women’ ........ a brilliant sad-funny representation of extremely superficial and empty meaningless ‘feminism’

laurie lasering in on gwart because she’s also eating that vegetable in a weird way! nice.

OKAY JARED? JARED

FUCK

we see him set up in pied piper’s offices meaning he at least took up richard’s offer which is nice

his parents?

fuck ‘em

they deserve to rot, obviously

sociopaths

i............................... it was an upsetting scene, i’m not sure why it’s in the show............ perhaps to give rise to jared’s whole ‘i must have rejected them and rejected everyone else who’s been kind’ thing that he’s doing in a desperate bid to understand/make sense of his suffering ....... which gives rise to his thing about rejecting richard...

i guess maybe he’s doing that thing where he’s repeating past cycles of trauma/abandonment? that’s what’s (at least partially) driving his stubborn refusal to rejoin richard? is it that he (on some not-necessarily-conscious level) believes himself unworthy of happiness and self-sabotages? and all of that mixes with his fear of fucking up pied piper with his feelings (the way he did in 6.1) and that keeps him away from richard?

I DON’T KNOW IT’S COMPLICATED AND MAKES ME SAD

that thing he said about how he has to stay with gwart . .............. god this stupid entirely arbitrary rule he’s set for himself, it’s so fucking painful

ETHAN’S REPENTANCE WAS DUE TO THREAT FROM HOLDEN? WOW

um

good on you holden i guess!! .....?

i HATE the whole ‘jared threatening holden and emotionally abusing him into the perfect assistant for richard’ arc because that was painful and i feel like it was played for laughs but i didn’t find it funny or good at all

so in this case it was kinda vindicating to see holden no longer terrified of jared and kind of sassing him (’don’t you have somewhere to be’)

..............what was with the end of the cold open where richard’s like ‘holden i wanted water’??? or something? didn’t holden give him the water partway through ethan’s presentation? ugH

GWART FIRING JARED

FUCK YES! THANK YOU GWART

JARED TALKING ABOUT HOW HE’S FREE TO GO WITH RICHARD

HOLY FUCK

YEAH SO OF COURSE OUR BOY JARED WANTS TO BE WITH RICHARD and now that gwart (his temporarily chosen ‘leader’/person to be devoted to) has given him orders (and therefore permission) to fuck off, he CAN BE WITH RICHARD without feeling like he’s, i dunno, being disloyal.

HURRAH

so the episode ENDS on jared asserting that there is a space for him to be with richard? homg seems like 6.5 is gonna go HEAVY ON THE JARRICH again?????

HNNNG

this was a tense episode and i’m upset

like it was a decent episode, i didn’t think it was bad quality, i’m just sad

[xtheseviolentdelightsx]

Out Of The Blue

Chapter 1: Mornings at the No Doze Cafe

One of Blue’s favorite things in the entire world was her ability to walk into the No Doze coffee shop at five a.m. every…single…morning and have a mocha waiting on the counter for her with the name Doc lovingly scribbled on the side, along with her usual everything bagel and cup of yogurt. It was a truly beautiful way to start the day even when the days stretched out so long that they ran into one another.

“Morning Ash.”

She greeted her best friend with a warm smile, and no she wasn’t her best friend just because she happened to be a caffeine dealer.

“Morning Blue.”

Ashley smiled back as she looked up from stocking the front display case with decadent pastries in an array of colors that just made you kind of happy to look at.

Blue was convinced that heaven itself had sent Ashley to her in the form of a freshman roommate at Harvard. Ash was her first true friend and over time had become her sister by choice. Like many of her overachieving classmates Ash had opted their junior year to start her own business while still attending classes. Her valiant attempt at a coffee empire came in the form of the No Doze café which had inevitably become their new home. Blue had spent as many hours studying here as she had at the library and had drank her weight in coffee a rather embarrassing amount of times. Now that Blue was in the second year of her residency program she didn’t get to spend as much time here as she would like and found herself seriously missing quality time with Ash.

“What’s today Blue?”

Ash was looking her up and down, openly assessing her appearance.

“Day one.”

Blue stifled a yawn.

“I knew you looked a little less like the walking dead. How many hours last week?”

“One hundred and eight.”

Blue tugged at her chestnut curls in order to tighten her ponytail.

“It’s the scrubs that gave it away, right? The fact that they’re clean?” She snarked, green eyes glittering with amusement.

“Is this primitive torture really necessary in this day and age? I thought hazing was illegal or at least seriously frowned upon and it just seems like an awful kind of hazing. I launched a business while going to school and worked less hours.”

Ash leaned her hip against the counter, arms folded, the picture of indignation on Blue’s behalf.

It touched Blue’s heart that Ash worried about her health and well-being, she’d never had that before, someone to care and it meant the world to her.

“You’re not wrong. I’m not sure how performing medicine while propping yourself up by IV stand is a good idea but some traditions refuse to die, no matter how many times you try to stab them to death. Some ass of a Doctor probably resuscitated the tradition while it was trying to bleed out.” She finished with a half shrug and a grin.

“Only one more year, right?”

“Four hundred and eighty-three days, not that I’m counting.”

The quiet laughter behind her made Blue turn.

“Oh, my apologies, didn’t mean to hold y’all up.”

“No hurry. I think you might need your caffeine fix more than we do Doc and that’s saying something.” The striking man smirked at her.

“Morning coffee buddy.”

“Thanks Clint, that means a lot coming from you. I know your coffee habits, I live them. Good morning.” Blue grinned and turned back to pick up her order. As she grabbed her coffee Ashley planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Good luck, try to fit in some sleep.”

“Yes mom,” Blue replied affectionately.

Ashley and Blue were used to the Avengers coming in at this point, they’d become regulars over the course of the last year. Even though they were daily flyers, Blue and Ash privately agreed that what they’d never adjust to was just how beautiful the heroes were in person. It was obnoxious really; genetics did not play fair.

Clint was the most frequent patron, often in multiple times a day. Sam, Steve and the rather intimidating Sergeant Barnes were in most mornings after their run. Others were less predictable. They figured it had to be a mix of the good coffee and the distance that brought them in, they were less likely to run into reporters or fans here. Whatever their reasons, every single damn one of them looked like a cover model and had the audacity to look that good whether it was five in the morning or midnight. On the days Blue drug herself in feeling like a certified zombie, that was seriously annoying, particularly as two of them tended to make her heart beat a little faster and she sure as hell didn’t have time for any of that nonsense.

Blue fell into the comfy, overstuffed chair at her favorite table. She then engaged in the last part of her morning ritual where she tuned out the world and spent exactly twenty free, joyous minutes reading something that was neither for school nor work. It was always a mystery novel of some flavor and this weeks was Hardcore Twenty-Four by Janet Evonivich. Interruptions to this beloved ritual were rare but this morning the quiet clearing of a throat caused her to look up.

“My apologies mam.”

Came in the form of a low rumble that threatened to make her toes curl. Blue knew he wasn’t an Angel but when she looked up at Steve Rogers, it was just a very little bit like looking into heavenly light.

“Hi Steve. What’s up?” Came out of her mouth but her internal monologue was busy running off the rails… “I am almost done with med school. I absolutely do not have time to date. He isn’t interested anyways; he’s just being nice. He’s really so very nice and kind and it would be so easy to talk to him…BUT every woman in the world probably throws themselves at his feet, with good reason, but I can do better than that, be better. I can be his friend. My pulse is not racing, my eyes will not dilate and the dopamine in my system will stay put. Friends are good. Be cool Blue.”

“Is it any good?” He gestured to the book. “I’ve picked up a couple I’ve seen you with but realized as a connoisseur it… well it would be nice to get your opinion before I bought them.” He finished with a smile and a small shrug.

“Mystery fan?”  Did he just admit that he’d been watching her for weeks? That can’t be right. It’s just a coincidence, they frequent the same coffee shop, they both love mysteries. He was noticing her books not her.

Steve nodded. “I love a good read.”

Blue canted her head to the side. “You know…I never go back to them. Why don’t I just pass on the good ones when I finish one?” See she could be a good friend, that was definitely an offer a friend would make.

“Are you sure? I mean that would be really great, I would seriously appreciate it.”

He ran a hand through his hair and Blue could almost swear it was a nervous gesture. That was a funny thought though, him nervous talking to a little street waif like her, highly unlikely. On the other hand, if she were standing right now, her knees would maybe be a little weak.

“Mhhmm, no problem, I’d be happy to.” Blue gave him a small smile as if it was no big, keeping her façade of cool, at least she hoped that’s what it looked like.  

“Anything else?”

Steve grinned, shook his head no and made a small huff that was almost a laugh. “No Doc. I truly look forward to it, thank you.” He knew when he’d been dismissed.

Blue nodded not quite clear on what was so funny. “Have a good day Mr. Rogers.”

Steve winced. “Steve, please. Mr. Rogers makes me sound like I host a children’s tv show.”

Blue’s eyebrows raised in confusion. “Huh?”

“No TV allowed in Blue’s house growing up Steve. Blue there was a Mr. Rogers who hosted a famous children’s TV show. Good stuff, you’d like it actually.” Ash interjected, swooping to her rescue.

“No TV, probably why she’s a Doctor and I’m slinging coffee.”

“Oh please.” Blue laughed as she exchanged a grateful glance with Ash.

Steve’s face lit up. “Someone else who is as woefully under educated about pop culture as I am? I didn’t think it was possible.”

Blue simply shrugged in response and her eyes moved back to the page of her book so she could mask her embarrassment. She hated feeling so out of the loop, but her lack of pop culture education often left her feeling that way. Steve took that as his cue to leave. Because she wasn’t watching she missed the amused glances shot back and forth between Steve, Clint and Sergeant Barnes at her not so subtle dismissal.

The small interruption had the unfortunate side effect of killing her focus and Blue’s mind naturally started the predictable slide into work mode.  Ten minutes later when her alarm went off, she was still on the same page. With a sigh she tucked her bagel into her bag, it was a habit she couldn’t shake, always carrying extra food with her. Then she shouldered the bag, picked up her trash and headed out the door. As the shop door closed behind her it set off the happy tingle of the shop bell which covered the sound of Clint’s bemused laughter.

“Poor Steve, all the women in the world falling all over you and the one you finally decide on is utterly oblivious.” Clint goo-naturedly ribbed his friend.

“Hey Ashley, you don’t think she’s aware and just playing hard to get?” Clint was kind of dying to know.

Ash bit back a laugh. “No. Her focus is laser about getting through med school. I’ve known her for six years and she hasn’t been on a single date, as far as I know. Blue’s on scholarship and takes it seriously, she has to considering her circumstances. Excuse me for a sec guys.” Ashley stepped back into the kitchen as an oven timer began to ring.

“Steve’s never had game.” Bucky spoke softly as he squeezed his partner’s arm just above the elbow. As Ash had stepped away and it was just the three of them, he laid a tender kissed on his lips. “I find it endearing.” Bucky watched fondly as a blush climbed up Steve’s neck. “He does have excellent taste though.”

Steve shook his head and grinned. “It’s refreshing, honestly. She’s not any different with us than with anyone else I expect. I wonder what Ash meant about her circumstances?”

“Not sure but she just might be worth the wait. Poor woman doesn’t know what’s about to hit her if you are both intent on pursuing her.” Clint mused.

Steve gave Bucky a questioning look. Bucky pressed a kiss to his forehead and murmured softly. “She’s lovely, don’t give up. I’m looking forward to our first date.”

Bucky’s recovery had come a long way since Steve had saved him but in public he still preferred to let Steve take the lead and do the talking. He remembered how things were before, how he used to be the ladies’ man, but he wasn’t that person anymore, never would be again. Steve loves him anyways and that is far more than he deserves. Steve’s happiness is paramount to him, so he’d noticed Steve’s interest in the young Doctor before Steve was even aware of it.

He’d given the situation quite a bit of thought before encouraging his partner in that direction. They’d shared women in the past but had never considered adding one to their relationship long term. He and Steve were shadow and light, yin and yang, maybe too much so. A third might make things easier on Steve and he needed to make Steve happy. He owed him that. Now if they could just get Blue to give in to her interest in Steve. Of course, Steve would pick the one girl in the free world who wasn’t ready to throw themselves at his feet. Of course, he would, but he couldn’t fault Steve his choice. The more he observed the woman, the more he found his own interest piqued.

The doctor was different. Her phone wasn’t perpetually in her hand, she wasn’t constantly distracted by technology. She had noticed them, was surprised by their presence but he’d witnessed the moment she had visibly reigned her interest in. It had been a curious act of self-control. The more he’d watched the more he found himself intrigued and admittedly attracted. Unfortunately, their courtship seemed to be moving as slow as snail mail.

[jiminandlemonade-blog]

Penpals / Don’t Leave Me - Part 11

Jimin:  

Series: Fluff/minor angst  

PART 11/15

New to the series? Part 1

Missed the last chapter? Part 10

Finally. Somewhere you belonged. At school, you never believed that you fit in with the crowd but at university, everyone was accepted and you loved it.

Your father was right, you did need Jimin's letters to comfort you as you settled in. It was a fear of the unknown being comforted by another unknown, that being, if you’d ever speak to him again.  

You met some amazing friends at University and 2 of them, you even considered your best friends, Rebecca and Amelia. They were both just as misunderstood as you were but you all understood each other, it was nice. 

 *6 months later*

It had been 6 months since you moved to University and there was still no contact with Jimin. You stayed in contact with Jihyun. He always messaged you on a Sunday to find out how you week had been and if you were feeling okay. You always lied. Of course you weren't okay. You had lost the love of your life and you had no idea when or if you'd ever speak to him again.  

"Jihyun, I've got to go" you said as Rebecca and Amelia walked into your dorm. "Ooooh, who’s that?" They asked, making kissing noises and faces after you ended the call. You hadn't told them about Jimin. You didn't want your non-existent love life to be a burden on them. "Just an old friend" you smiled, not lying.  

"I think there's something more going on" Rebecca laughed, sitting next to you on the bed and nudging your shoulder hard that you fell onto your pillow cushions. "Me too" Amelia agreed, composing herself after laughing from watching you dead ass fall from the slightest of nudges.  

"There's nothing, honestly.. It's just Jihyun" you stated. You came off like a closed book. You didn't want them to know about Jimin, even though you felt they needed too.  

"Um Y/N, is everything okay? Just recently you've seemed a bit.. Off.." Amelia questioned. "Yeah, that's what we actually came to talk to you about" Rebecca finished off.

Everything wasn't okay. You hadn't been right since your birthday 2 weeks ago. You expected something to turn up at the dorm, for Jihyun to say he had a message from Jimin.. Anything. But nothing came.  

Tears filled your eyes once more and you didn't want to lie to your best friends. These people knew everything about your past apart from what you considered the most important part, losing the love of your life.

"We didn't mean to upset you" Amelia soothed, rubbing your back as Rebecca knelt down in front of you with a concerned look on her face. "Yous didn't. But girls.. We need to talk..".  

They both sat bolt up right next to you on the bed, not knowing what to expect. You laughed at how protective they seemed. "I'm just going to go over here" you pointed to the floor, giggling. "Seriously, it's not that bad.. Well kinda" you shrugged.

"When I was in school, you both know that I acted up. But in my Geography class, I was given a pen pal from South Korea" "Jihyun?" Rebecca questioned midsentence. "No.. Not Jihyun. Anyway, we started talking and instantly connected on levels I never thought you could connect to a person. He felt misunderstood too. He went through troubles like me too. He wanted more than just an education.. He wanted to live. You both know how I've always wanted to be an actress but decided to go down the university route? Well he had the choice between education and dancing and he went down the dancing route.. And honestly, I have never been so proud of a person. I wanted to fly to Korea and hug him. He inspired me to go on auditions. Even though I didn't get them, I got great feedback but ultimately, this is what I chose. I feel like it's definitely the right path.. But enough about me. His name is Jimin and he is Jihyun's brother"  

"Ah" Rebecca let out. "So it's a love triangle?" "Ew, no!" You shrieked at the thought of fancying Jimin's brother.. "He's wonderful but he's Jimin's brother.. Just let me continue. He understood me so much and he just always seemed to know me.. Get me? He sent me flowers when he knew I was down, called my parents to get me ice cream from the supermarket when I was stressed revising.. All of those things you know? Then he seemed to go in his shell and started apologising for not being the person I thought he was so I was very confused. To cut a long story short, he went to Seoul for an audition and was successful but needed to keep it under wraps and couldn't tell a soul. I even told him I loved him a voicemail and I don't know whether he received it.. I always wondered whether that was why he stopped talking. Then I then lost contact with him. Soon after, I received a message on a cake from a local bakery that Jimin has sent telling me to expect a letter in the post explaining why I wasn't able to contact him. The letter arrived and he was apologising for everything and that he'd speak to me when he can. I went online to find his social media accounts were all disconnected. I had no contact. Jihyun contacted me and explained everything.. But, I don't know whether I can say anything." You ranted off.

"You can tell us anything" Rebecca promised. You knew you could. You just didn't know whether you wanted to. You felt betrayed and abandoned by Jimin and didn't want to come across as looking vulnerable. "So do you think Jimin stopped talking to you because you told him you loved him?" Amelia questioned.

You sighed. "Honestly, I did at first. But then Jihyun explained the situation and like I said, I'm not sure whether he had even received it.". Obviously, since Rebecca and Amelia were your friends, they knew the course you studied. Korean. And always wondered where your passion for the subject came from. You never told them the real reason. You just explained that you fell in love with the country at school.  

There was silence whilst they tried to comprehend everything you were saying. Rebecca finally spoke up. "He taught you Korean didn't he?". You nodded. "You didn't just fall in love with the language and culture.. You fell in love with him too" Rebecca chimed in matter of factly. You nodded again.  

"You're going to have to tell us what he did.. Did he enlist?" Amelia gasped. You explained the whole of the Korean culture to them. They knew everything. They loved your passion for the country and language and could listen to you talking for hours about it. Amelia even started watching K-POP groups with you and was more obsessed than what you were..  

"No, he didn't enlist. Um, oh god, forgive me Jimin" you repeated Jihyun's words from your first conversation. "Jimin is um, he's urm.. Amelia.. He's a trainee" you explained. She gasped louder than when she questioned whether he had enlisted.

"He's a what now?" Rebecca laughed, not understanding the Korean jargon. You could see Amelia getting really excited and clenching her fists and gritting her teeth through amazement.

"A trainee is someone who is hired by an entertainment company and is trained up to be a professional entertainer whether that's a singer, dancer or actor.. Usually a singer and/or dancer and they then debut as a solo artist or musical group. It's the only normal way to become a recording artist over there" Amelia explained to Rebecca.

"Hold up" Rebecca paused Amelia's excitement. "You're trying to tell me that the K-POP groups that you listen too.. Your pen pal friend is going to be one of them?" She directed her question to you. "It's a massive possibility.. He may not be successful.. Even if he is, he may not debut for years or they may not be popular and disband before they even get an album out. It works very differently in Korea. If you're not popular from the get go, or at least have a following, you wont succeed in any manner" you explained.

"This is so much to take in" Rebecca stated, rubbing her head. "I know, imagine how I feel" you laughed off, giving them a hug and thanking them for being there for you.  

*3 months later*

You had been back home for the spring break and now back at university. Before you could even get back to your dorm, you had several missed calls from Rebecca and Amelia and some other friends who were trying to get in contact with you on their behalf.

"What's up?" You asked in the group call, trying to stick your key in the door whilst holding all of your bags. "When you get a minute, come to the library" Rebecca requested. "I've only just got here.. I'm not doing work!" You laughed. "Y/N.. Please just come to the library" Amelia sternly spoke. You were confused. This wasn't like them at all. "Is everything okay?" You queried, concerned, hitting your phone onto loud speaker as you dropped it onto the bed and dropped your bags from your arms, giving you an instant sensation of relief.  

"Yeah. I think so. Just, I can't really say much.. I don't know what to make of it. I-I don't know if.. Just get down here" Amelia spoke, just as stern as before. You were panicked. You had no idea what this could be about. "Okay, I'm coming now" you said, picking up your bag and running out of the door.  

You walked into the library and spotted their pale faces from a mile away. Rebecca even presented you with a cup of coffee and a shortbread. You knew this wasn't going to be good news. Coffee and shortbread were your comfort foods and they knew this.  

"So um, Y/N.. I don't know how to say this. I don't really know how to explain this. Hopefully it's nothing. Hopefully if it is something, you're keeping something from us too.. But we need to talk about Jimin." She explained. Your heart sank. You hadn't stopped thinking about him at all, but you were hoping as the days passed by, the pain would evaporate.. But it wasn't. If anything, it was getting harder. And your sleepless nights could vouch for that.

"J-Jimin?" You stuttered. Your hands started shaking and Rebecca put her hands around them to stop them. Your knees then started to shake and you felt weak. You knew something bad was about to happen.

"Have you spoke recently?" Amelia asked. You looked at her with a vague expression. "Well no.. I've already explained this. I have no contact" you huffed, slightly pissed she even asked you that. Amelia and Rebecca looked at each other and Rebecca muttered "fuck" under her breath. "What's going on?" You asked. "I'm getting worried". You felt that awful closing feeling at the back of your throat.

"Is his name Park Jimin and from Busan?" Amelia asked, staring at the computer screen. You looked up and dead eye stared at her. You never told her his surname or where he was from before. After your talk with Rebecca and Amelia, you never wanted to speak about it and hardlies ever did. "How did you--?" You asked before being cut off by Rebecca. "Is this him?" She asked, spinning the computer screen round in your direction.

You hadn't seen a picture of Jimin in a good few months. You stopped watching his videos he sent you because it broke your heart. The only thing you occasionally read were his letters but his image was permanently etched in your brain so there were no need for a constant photographic reminder.

You gulped and gasped at the same time. "That's him" you blinked, moving your head closer to the screen in a tilting confused motion. Rebecca looked at Amelia, obviously trying to get her to ask you a question but her words didn't seem to form.  "Y/N.. When did he say he would contact you?" Rebecca asked, gripping your hands tighter. "When he wasn't a trainee.. When he debuted" you stated, looking just as confused as ever.  

There was a moments silence and nobody knew what to say. "I'll let this do the talking" Amelia said solemnly, pressing play on the Youtube video.  

‘얌마 니 꿈은 뭐니 얌마 니 꿈은 뭐니 얌마 니 꿈은 뭐니 니 꿈은 겨우 그거니’

‘Hey what's your dream? Is that all your dream is?’

You had already had enough. You reached over your friends and tried to pause the video by using the space bar but missed. The video continued playing. Rebecca and Amelia were too focused on your face and demeanor to think about turning it off. Your heart was beating fast and the lump in your throat was getting bigger.

"He's debuted hasn't he?" You said through slightly gritted teeth. You felt pissed, hurt, alone, betrayed but ultimately, heartbroken. Amelia nodded. "I'm so sorry" they both said in unison.

There was another moments silence and you heard the song in the background.  

"That’s a lie, you such a liar See me, see me, ya you’re a hypocrite Why’re you telling to go a different path? Take care of yourself Please don’t force me" you translated out loud as you were going along with the song.

You had to admit. You loved the song. You even closed your eyes to somehow enhance your hearing sense.

"What's your dream? What's your dream? La La La La La." Jimin's voice. You took a deep breath. "That's Park Jimin alright" you smiled.  

You smiled because you were so proud. The feeling of overwhelming love and pride washed over you as soon as you saw him sing. He went to Seoul as a dancer and is now a singer.. You loved his singing voice. He even sang you to sleep over Skype sometimes. Well, in the past.  

Suddenly, you were struck down to reality. "When was this video published?" You gulped. He said he would contact you when he could. Jihyun said that Jimin would contact you. Why hadn't he? Had it just been posted?  

Neither Rebecca or Amelia said anything. "Just tell me!" You shouted in the middle of the library. You tensed your face and whispered 'sorry' the those studying around you and put your hand up to the librarians to resemble an apology.  

Amelia plucked up the courage to tell you. "Y/N.. They debuted 5 weeks ago" 

 Part 12

MASTERLIST

[previously-writer-zero]

Interviews with Team Ariel

This little collection of questions were posted by @wordsnstuff, and I reblogged it a while ago, saying I have incoming answers from Team Ariel. Well, I answered those questions about a week ago on paper and never got around to transcribing them, so here they finally are!

Questions:

How do you like to spend your free time?

What is your relationship with your immediate family members?

If you inherited a large sum of money, how would you approach handling it?

Who are you closest to in your life?

What is your most painful memory?

What is your happiest memory?

Describe your experience in an education system, if any.

What is your biggest fear and why are you so afraid of it?

To what extent do you believe in hate?

To what extent do you believe in love?

What is the number one personal rule you have for yourself?

If you saw a picture of yourself, what is the first place you would look?

How would you describe yourself?

How would others describe you?

What do you believe is your greatest weakness?

What do you believe is your greatest strength

What makes you get out of bed everyday?

What is the major challenge you face every single day?

If you could give a message to your younger self, what would it be?

What is it that you want most?

Answers under the “Keep reading,” because this will be long.

Alexander Glorian:

I like to mess around with Robin or just listen to music by myself while daydreaming. I also know Kostya’s schedule by heart, so I can go sparring with him.

Hell, where do I begin? I hate Kleio, Euclid and Markos are cool, Georgia and Eleni are cool if Kleio isn’t around, and Simon is the best little brother I could ever wish for.

I don’t know, put it in a bank or something?

Simon. He’s awesome.

When Markos left. There was a huge fight, there was shouting, I think even violence between him and father. I took Simon and we hid in the closet until it calmed down. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to Markos.

Joining Beacon! I always wanted to be a huntsman, and I was really happy when I met Robin, Ismene, and Leiah!

LITERALLY TORTURE.

Something bad happening that I could’ve prevented, but didn’t. The guilt would probably kill me.

I hate Kleio, so that’s that.

It’s good when it’s there, but I don’t think it should be the sole driving force behind anything.

Always try your hardest, because if you fail, you won’t feel guilty.

I’d compare my height to whatever or whoever is also in the picture with me, because sometimes I don’t feel that tall.

Drop dead gorgeous. ;)

My team would probably describe me as reliable.

My team would probably say I don’t notice things. Actually, they use every chance they get to remind me of this.

My... strength, I guess? I’m big, I can hit hard, and I can walk away from a lot of things someone tiny like Ismene or Leiah wouldn’t.

Today might be a good day. Sure, it may be a bad one too, but why would I look forward to that?

Trying not to give up on school...

“Just you wait, you’re gonna outgrow most of your siblings by the time you’re my age.”

Whatever happens, stay with my team. Even when we graduate, I hope we stay a team.

Robin Heath:

Mess around with Alexander, or teach Ismene how to track like a hunter.

My parents are very proud I go to Beacon to become our village’s huntsman, and I love their support and the fact they don’t put too much pressure on me.

Pay back my village what they scrounged together to send me to Beacon and then some.

Ismene. She’s... too innocent to be a huntress and I want her to keep that at least until she graduates.

Ismene’s nightmare. I saw here there, writhing in bed, trapped in hell, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

The day I left for Beacon. Almost every villager went with me to the train station to send me off. I felt everyone0s trust in me and that trust could get me through Beacon alone.

I only have general education from before, and John, our neighbor, taught me how to hunt. I now have to combine these with quite a bit of studying to make this whole thing work.

Failing Beacon. As much as the villagers’ faces filled me with hope as the train was leaving, it also gave me the dread of what might happen if I fail. The old huntsman may have to retire before someone else can graduate instead of me.

It’s toxic. It gives you strength, yes, but it also clouds your judgement. Sooner or later, it may make you hurt someone you didn’t mean to.

It definitelly exists. It’s liking someone so much just thinking of them gives you energy to go on for life.

There’s always a how and there’s always a why.

The slightly red hair. It’s common to a lot of people in our village and it always reminds me of my roots.

Analytical and decisive.

Leiah: “A sarcastic dork!” ...Right.

Sometimes I’m afraid I don’t show my emotions enough, which could lead to misunderstandings.

The ability to keep a clear head.

There’s always work to be done, so I might as well get to it.

Honestly, studying. I’m constantly anxious that I will fail the next exam.

Listen to pops. He has a lot of smart things to say if you’re willing to listen.

Graduate and go back home to relieve our old huntsman of his position.

Ismene Kokinos:

Taking walks with Robin and playing with Piko and Miko, my mice.

Tense. My mom and dad try really hard to not blame me for what happened to grandpa, but the pressure from the rest of the family gets to them.

I would donate it to an animal shelter or a sharity!

Robin. He’s just so... amazing!

Granda dying and grandma blaming me for it.

Meeting everyone during Initiation! It was super fun, and also a little scary.

My parents homeschooled me instead of sending me to Battle School, seeing as we run a dojo and everything. I love studying at Beacon a lot more, though!

That I’ll freeze during a battle and someone will get hurt again, or worse - killed. Robin is trying to help me get over this and honestly, he’s helping just by being there for me.

It destroys everything in its path and even if it goes away, it will never really leave.

It is real and it is the best thing in the entire universe.

Whatever happens, real friends never leave you.

How short I am. I stopped growing pretty quickly, so I’m kind of ashamed of my child-like height.

A small doll.

Robin: “A cute, Grimm-ass whooping doll, you mean.” ...Yeah. :)

I can be too emotional and childish at times.

I try to be optimistic in most cases.

I have to feed the mice, otherwise Miko might eat Piko.

Trying to overcome my fear of Grim. If I’m not activelly doing something about it, I at least think or talk to Robin about it.

It wasn’t your fault grandpa died, and don’t let what grandma says get to you.

Stay friends with the team. Even if we go our separate ways after graduation, I wanna say in touch with them at least.

Leiah Prima:

By myself. Reading, thinking, training.

I never knew my parents.

Keep it physically. I don’t trust banks. Besides, I can sit on top of it like a dragon.

The team.

I’m not ready to talk about it yet.

Initiation. I met an awesome set of people, and I got to battle a King Taijitu.

All shall pass. The sooner, the better.

Losing my friends, but not to death.

It can be a good power source as long as you don’t lose control.

Hate exists, so logically, love exists as well, right?

Take care of yourself first, because without taking care of yourself, you can’t take care of others.

That bandana. Nobody wears a bandana or scarf on their face. But I don’t want to get rid of it, I just can’t.

Small, quick, adaptive.

Sometimes rude? Definitelly quick to anger.

I’m not always that good at teamwork.

I can take care of myself in any given situation.

(smirks) School.

(laughs) Also School.

It’s going to be okay.

Finally graduate Beacon and become a full, independant huntress.

[hopeishappinessff]

Holding Onto Hope: Chapter 1

Hope

The glass was a translucent barrier to the lush greenery zipping by along the edges of the wide Georgia roadways. I was starting to make myself dizzy just by trying to steady my eyes on at least one robust tree or a vibrant flower sprouting from the ground. After nearly vomiting from a dire combination of dizziness and motion sickness, I shut my eyes and allowed myself to succumb to the melodic sound of Smokey Robinson. I assumed my dad was a fan of the man and I honestly couldn’t blame him… his voice was so rich and just soothing enough to put a baby to sleep.

Just as I neared the edge of an ensuing siesta, an incessant vibration against the side of my leg startled me and my initial reaction was to flinch… causing my phone to fall haphazardly to the floor. I hastily reached to pick it up, being careful not to move Destani’s foot, which was stretched comfortably along my front seat armrest as she slept soundly in the backseat. I couldn’t fight the urge to nibble into my bottom lip even if I wanted to as I gazed down at that familiar grinning and gorgeous face and my own beaming smile staring up at me. It was a picture we’d snapped cuddling in my bed just days before he left for New York. Breaking out of my daze just before the vibrations stopped, I swiped my thumb across the bottom of the screen and quickly pressed it to my ear, closing my eyes without thought to brace myself for his steadily deepening baritone.

Ya’ll made it there yet?” From the moment Destani and I had left Virginia around nine this morning, he’d been greeting me with something along the lines of ‘Where ya’ll at’ rather than a cordial ‘hello.’ I smirked at the sound of his addictive voice and giggled as I lowered my head and pressed my left index finger into my ear to ensure that I’d hear him crisp and clear.

“No, we’re almost there though. You know… it would be kind of nice if I could get a hello next time.”

He chuckled and I imagined those handsomely deep dimples caving into his plump cheeks along with the tiniest dimple that crept into his chin whenever he smiled or laughed “I’m sorry love. I’m just tryna make sure ya’ll get to the school alright and that’s like, literally the only thing I been thinking about all day.”

I swiftly raised a hand to wave my dad’s extended hand away from the volume knob of the radio. He’d finally taken notice of the phone pressed against my ear and he was attempting to show consideration by trying to turn down the volume, but I figured with me being on the phone with Chris of all people, it would be best to keep the radio up as loud as possible. I smiled sheepishly at him after he raised that hand in a surrendering manner and returned my attention to my conversation.

“Well stop worrying so much. Like I said, we’re just about there and you know I’ll call you as soon as we get to our dorm.”

“Aiight… well how ‘bout I stop worrying when I get that call then?” He suggested smartly. I rolled my eyes and said a quick silent prayer that we would indeed reach the school soon so that I could calm his worried mind.

“Other than worrying about our exact location on the map of the world, what are you doing right now?” I asked, discreetly cracking up at my own joke.

I could tell he was laughing as well and I strained my ears to listen closely… I’d always adored the way I could easily tell that he was genuinely laughing, even if I weren’t directly in his face to see.

“I actually just got back from a three-hour drill. I was on my way to getting in the shower and when I was taking my shirt off, I thought about you and decided to call and check in again.”

I smiled and playfully contorted my face into a frown as if he could see me “So… your sweat and funk makes you think of me?”

“No, I just… wait, who said I was funky girl?”

I cackled aloud and tossed my head back against the headrest theatrically “I’m sorry, you’re not funky… as a matter of fact, I bet you smell exceptionally nice right now.” “Hell yeah I do. Aye… and you know what’s even better,” His voice dropped to a noticeably more seductive octave and my brow raised with intrigue as I listened to him, “My body is still dripping with sweat, right… and I’m just standing here in the mirror now and my shorts are kinda low, like sagging so I can see this dope ass V cut I been working on… so I’m just watching this sweat drip, like you when I make that puss…”

My eyes bulged and I instinctively gasped and raised a hand to the receiver of my phone, peeping discreetly at my dad to make sure he hadn’t by chance heard any of what this freak had just muttered in my ear.

“You know you should stop right… I’m still in the car Chris.” I kept my voice as low as possible as I reprimanded him quickly. He chuckled, with that same seduction even wrapped up in his laugh, and I rolled my eyes and fought the urge to bite into my bottom lip. After an entire summer of absolutely no physical contact with him, the slightest rise or fall in the pitch of his voice was just enough to send my body temperature rocketing within seconds. 

“Aw, I’m sorry Ms. Pretty Pussy… I can’t help it. But I’ll stop… wouldn’t want you leaking all over your dad’s seat.” He whispered huskily. I smacked my lips and subtly rubbed my thighs together, clinging to the sound of his seduction and praying that I wouldn’t squirt right through my pants just from the sound of his voice. I decided that instead of giving myself away and perhaps dealing with an interrogation from my dad, I should probably go ahead and end the phone call before Chris got me too carried away.  

“You know what, I think I should just call you back a bit later. We’re almost at the school and I really have to go now.” He went silent for a moment and I instantly felt terrible… I didn’t want him to think I was rushing him off the phone. We were literally only about ten minutes away from the school and knowing that I needed each of those minutes to get myself together after that panty wetting exchange, I knew I needed to end the conversation now.

“Aiight, just don’t forget to call me as soon as you get there.”

“I won’t.” I promised, ending the call with an I love you.

 --

With an exhausted huff, I dropped my last bag on my extra-long twin size bed and plopped down right beside it, sighing tiredly and sliding my feet out of my sandals before crossing them up onto the bed. We’d been either walking or standing just about all day and it was starting to feel like my feet were on fire. Destani, who’d been struggling to pull one of her larger bags through the doorway, gave one final yank and got the bag through the door then tossed it over onto the floor near her bed. She was mumbling under her breath and I laughed only because I knew she’d be expressing herself loud, clear and without hesitation if it weren’t for my dad stepping though the doorway behind her. He and I both laughed at the expression on her face as he placed one of her heaviest trunks and a duffle bag on the floor with ease.

“Was it really that heavy Dez?” I asked, pointing over at the bag she’d practically thrown out of her grasp. She rolled her eyes and stomped her way over to her bed, muttering a small ’thank you’ to my dad for his graciousness. I locked eyes with him, we both peered over at Destani, then simultaneously burst into boisterous laughter at her expense. She looked absolutely upset that we were laughing, but her expression only made it that much more hilarious.

“I’m glad ya’ll find it so funny that I almost broke both of my arms and my back tryna drag this bag up here.” She said with a roll of her eyes.

My dad stepped to her, pulling her to him and squeezing her with a one-armed hug “Aww, I’’m sorry Destani… I really didn’t mean to laugh at you. I was only laughing because, well… Sy laughed.”

My jovial expression instantly dropped into a frown and I looked from him to Destani to see her standing there with her hand on her hip and a smirk resting on her face “And I’m glad you find it so funny that I almost hurt myself, Sy.”

“Actually I find it funny that you were too weak to carry that bag. With your scrawny arms, you should have just dragged it.” I pointed out, raising a brow with a knowing smirk on my face.

“Whatever Sy’Diyah. Smart a… butt.” I smiled at her, knowing that she wanted so badly to let a curse word slip, but she was struggling with my dad in the room.

“Well, do you girls need me to help with anything else? It may be easier to set everything up with six hands instead of four.” My dad said, picking up one of my trunks and moving it closer to my bed.

I stopped him just before he attempted to move on to retrieve a suitcase and smiled “No, I think we can handle it from here… you’ve done more than enough for us as it is and I can’t thank you enough for that.”

He tapped a hand against the top of my trunk then pursed his lips and released a sigh through his nose “Alrighty, then I guess I’ll uh… start making my way back down to the car then. And you’re absolutely positive that you two don’t need anything else? Something from the store… something to eat… anything?”

I chuckled lightly and glanced over at Destani who was shaking her head, letting me know that there was nothing she needed “Nope, I think we’re good for now.” I assured him.

“How about we walk you downstairs so we can have a lil more time to think about if we really need something Mr. D?” Destani suggested.

“That sounds like a plan Destani.” He chuckled.

We walked him out to the parking lot to his car and conversed for a bit, asking several questions about areas of entertainment in and around Athens. He didn’t give us much info on that question in particular… he claimed that’s not what college was all about and that we should solely be focused on the education aspect, not what’s going to keep us entertained. He did, however, tell us that if we ever felt the need to get away from the city, he was only a phone call away.

After my dad left, Destani and I made our way back into the semi crowded lobby of McWhorter Hall, our dormitory. Though it’d crept well into mid-evening, several families of students lingered around the lobby and activity center, some biding adieu to their student and some just simply hanging around for the heck of it. Our particular dorm was coed. When the decision was initially made that I would attend this school, I wanted to reside in a female only dorm, but with Destani getting accepted into the same school as I and the two of us immediately choosing to room together, she figured it would be much better to live in this style dorm instead. The only good in it for me was the fact that our floor consisted of all females and the floors above and beneath us were only males. Destani didn’t seem to fully understand the fact that for me to tell Chris that I lived anywhere near other guys was equivalent to me telling him that I lived in an actual room with a guy… and that was simply a death wish.

A few days before Destani and I left, he even forced me to agree to a ‘conference call’ with him to discuss the terms and conditions of this newfound distance between us. Any other time I probably would have gotten upset with him for trying to set rules for me, but I couldn’t get mad… I’d done the exact same with him before he left for New York. I realized that if we were going to make this thing work, there would have to be several ground rules for the both of us to always abide by to ease all temptation. For whatever reason, he even felt the need to leave me with his Charlie Brown necklace, believing that it somehow held the power to keep everyone of the male species at bay.

With my index finger and thumb, I picked up that very pendant that rested in its new home idly against my chest and looked down at it. Ms. Joyce had given it to him as a gift for Christmas when he was about thirteen because of his infatuation with the comic book character and since then, not a day had gone by that he took it off… until now. I was utterly stunned the moment he slid the thing from around his neck only a few days before he left for New York and completely blown away when it placed it around my neck instead, instructing me to keep it on no matter what because he expected to see me wearing it the next time we saw one another. 

Destani and I continued our trek through the lobby, the activity center, and up the first flight of stairs to our room and I kept my head down, mesmerized by the small colorful diamonds embedded in the pendant. I failed to realize that we were rounding a corner to head up another flight of stairs to get to our second-floor dorm and because I so foolishly kept my head down without thinking to look up, I didn’t notice the figure ambling directly toward me. The person must have been at least six feet tall because when I bumped into them, my head instantly collided with their chest. I stumbled backward a bit, only catching my balance after I felt a hand grip onto my wrist, grasping tightly to prevent me from clumsily slipping down about six steps.

“Damn girl, you straight?” I quickly raised my head and lifted a hand up to massage the top of it after running into this person’s chest. I was immediately taken aback when I found myself gawking up into the deepest pair of chocolate brown orbs. It actually took me a few seconds to realize those eyes weren’t the only beautiful things in front of me… there was a beautiful face and a beautiful body too. But whoever he was, he was making me extremely uncomfortable only because I knew I shouldn’t have been staring at him, thinking about how inexplicably gorgeous he was.

“Baby doll… you good? I mean, you did just almost fall down a flight of stairs… I’m just tryna make sure you okay.” Even his voice made him seem more like the God Zeus standing there in front of me. And what was even more appealing was that he had yet to call me ‘ma’ like most southern guys tend to. Don’t get me wrong, I’d never seen anything necessarily wrong with the pet name, especially when Chris said it, but I found that it grew old after a while and just hearing baby doll roll off his tongue was oddly refreshing to me. I could feel someone easing up behind me and seconds later, a hand nudging me in the back. I glanced back to see Destani standing there, staring at me like I had two heads.

“What the hell are you doing? Talk to him girl?” She mumbled through gritted teeth just loud enough for me to hear.

Clearing my throat, I swung back around to face him and blinked a few times as I licked my parched lips “Um, yes… yeah, I’m okay… I’m really clumsy and I’m so sorry for bumping into you.” I explained sincerely. He smiled, flashing a perfect set of glimmering whites that left me, once again, stupefied and it took another nudge in the back from Destani for me to realize that he was speaking to me.

“You straight doll. I know these stairs are pretty damn cramped, so you can’t really help but bump into people on ‘em.” I instantly noted the country or perhaps even Louisiana accent that oozed from his words and smiled inwardly… he’s even more country than Chris… snapping out of my daze suddenly, I gasped softly and realized in that moment how much of a good idea it would be for me to go on and make my way past this guy, just in case he decided to go in for the kill… an introduction…which according to Chris was number one on the list of terms and conditions.

‘No formal or informal introductions… that’s how them niggas trap you. Trust, ya nigga used to be like, the king of that shit.’ He preached to me just a few nights ago during a late night chat.

I dropped my gaze just in time to see his large, caramel coated hand jetting out toward me “I’m Benny by the way.”

My eyes held their stare on his hand for what seemed like several minutes before I sucked in a gust of uncertainty and stuck my hand out to firmly grip his.

He graced my eyes with that smile again and it took everything in me to tear my gaze away from his lips “You live here?”

I nodded and licked my lips, imagining just how pale and dry they probably looked right now due to my jittery nerves.

“Well I’m down at Rooker Hall if you by chance… ever need anything or something, uh… what’s ya name?”

Blinking a few times, I shook my head slowly in complete disbelief that I was so transfixed by this guy’s presence, his voice, his eyes… his entire existence, that I suddenly forgot my own name.

“Sy’Diyah… her name is Sy’Diyah. And I’m Destani, her roommate.” Destani quickly intervened and eased around me to stick her hand out to shake Benny’s, saving me from further embarrassment.

Benny chuckled and Destani smiled and leaned back, wrapping her left arm around the back of my neck and leaning against me “Don’t mind her, I think she’s just… really tired and kind of out of it.”

“Nah, nah… I completely understand. I think everybody in this building is prolly exhausted as hell right about now…” He paused briefly and peered behind Destani, quickly motioning for whoever he was looking at to come forward, “I want ya’ll to meet my boy Taylor… come ‘ere man.” I glanced to my right just as a chocolate toned guy with braids waltzed past Destani and stopped just beside Benny, slapping hands with him as a friendly greeting.

“Wassup my nig…” He stopped mid-sentence and blatantly eyed Destani and I, swiping his tongue out over his lips with a smirk as he did so before turning back to face Benny, “I see you my nigga. Catching the flyest honeys on the first day dawg.”

He slapped hands with Benny once more and I glanced over at Destani with a discreet grimace only to see her smirking and openly gawking at this Taylor guy.

“Nigga ain’t nobody catching nothing. I just bumped into her,” He explained, pointing a finger at me, “And I was just introducing myself to her and her roommate, Destani.” “Oh, so ya’ll are roommates, huh? Well my name is Tay or T-Low… don’t nobody call me that Taylor shit,” He chucked, cutting his eyes over at Benny, “But anyway ya’ll residing here?”

“Yeah, we’re on the second floor actually.” Destani said and it only took a few seconds for me to realize that she’d switched on her charm and boy did she turn it on full force. I scoffed through my nose… the girl was such a character sometimes.

“Well uh… I don’t know if my boy told ya’ll or not, but we over at Rooker Hall if ya’ll ever wanna… chill or what not.” I wanted so badly to tell him that we could never chill or what not because I had a boyfriend and so did Destani, and even though that part would be a tad stretch of the truth, I would claim it any day just to get this guy to lay off. I couldn’t lie, the boy was cute… him and Benny both, but just looking at the both of them made me feel so culpable and the Charlie Brown pendant dangling against my chest wasn’t really helping me feel any better.

“Okay, well as soon as we figure out where that is… we can definitely chill whenever.” Destani said in the most alluring tone, making me sick to my stomach. Taylor laughed, along with Benny, and reached back into the pocket of his jeans to pull out his phone.

“It’s like, right down the sidewalk from here. This dorm, Rooker Hall, and the other two beside ours are all basically connected without actually touching… if you know what I mean. But just in case you can’t find it, why don’t we exchange numbers.” He suggested smoothly, handing his phone off to Destani and waiting for her to give him hers.

“I actually left my phone up in my room. Why don’t you two come up so I can get it and we can exchange there.”

Panic hit me like a ton of bricks as I stared astonishingly at Destani… was she seriously inviting these two strangers up to our room just to exchange phone numbers? What was wrong with her just giving Taylor her number, him calling her phone, and her saving his number? I swear the girl was just on a mission to ruin my nerves. If we were going to get through this year as smoothly as possible, this would definitely be on the list of topics to discuss with her and it’d be on the top of my list of things not to do to make our experience as roommates much easier… DO NOT BRING RANDOM PEOPLE IN THE ROOM WITHOUT ROOMMATES CONSENT! Until I could get around to informing her of this issue, I’d just have to make my way up to our room with both Taylor and Benny in tow.

[bennet-liz]

those made for war (in peace)

fandom: star wars

pairings: jyn erso/cassian andor; leia organa/han solo; jyn & leia

summary: Jyn has too much free time. Leia's too busy. Clearly, they both need drinks. ao3

Jyn was not made for peace time she had soon discovered after the war had ended. Every fiber of her being felt perpetually on edge, waiting for the next bomb, the next attack. She could no longer remember a time before her being was consumed by war and violence.

It made her twitchy. Cassian called it her fight or fight instinct. She had punched his shoulder after that.

She hadn’t learned how to be peaceful. She was most at peace with a blaster in her hand.

But she had also fought for peace. Because as much as Jyn loved a fight, the Empire and all the pain it had caused her was not worth a perpetual war. And so Jyn had lifted her head.

But now she was bored out of her mind. She was used to action. She was built for a fight, not sitting around twiddling her thumbs.

Drinking, however, she could do that no matter the current political climate.

“You seem awfully broody.” Jyn twisted in her seat and flashed a half smile at the princess, or was it senator now?

“It sort of goes with my whole aesthetic, don’t you think?”

“Did you just use the word aesthetic?” Leia asked as she dropped into the stool next to Jyn. “Who are you and what have you done with Jyn Erso?”

Jyn let out a short laugh and drew herself into a mockery of Leia’s regal posture. “I will have you know that I was highly educated.” Jyn paused for a moment, sipping at her drink, “Until the age of 6.”

Leia rolled her eyes before turning to the bartender. His eyes bugged momentarily before he regained his nerve and took her order. “I forgot how annoying that is.” Leia said with a sigh.

“What, having every being in the galaxy stare at you in wonder? Gee, that must be hard to be so revered. What a tough life you’ve got there, princess.”

Leia promptly elbowed Jyn in the side.

Jyn wheezed a bit for dramatic effect, clutching her side in agony. “You sure do pack a punch there, princess.”

“Haven’t you heard? It’s Senator now.”

“Princess, senator, what’s the difference?” Leia opened her mouth but Jyn quickly waved her off. “Please I beg of you, don’t explain it to me.” Jyn’s tolerance for politics had been minimal at best when she joined the Rebellion and it certainly hadn’t grown with age.

“Fine, remain utterly ignorant of politics. See if I care.” Leia said haughtily, although the effect was ruined by the smile on her lips. “What have you been up to since I last saw you?”

“Oh, since that snooty party you made me and Cassian go to? The one Han and I got kicked out of in an hour?”

Leia let out another long suffering sigh. “Yes, that one. I had to pay Kes Dameron quite a bit for that little stunt you two pulled. I thought you could at least last an hour and a half.”

“Isn’t gambling a bit below you, senator?”

“Your drink, ma’am. And could I just say that what you did was so very brave?” The bartender said, his eyes still wide with wonder. Leia made to pull out her credit chip but Jyn beat her to it.

As she handed it to the man, she said to Leia, “Since you lost so much betting on me.” Leia rolled her eyes again.

The bartender returned, his eyes flickering between Leia and Jyn. Clearly something was not adding up in his mind as to why the senator and this other woman were together. He blurted out, “You’re a real hero, ma’am.” His cheeks turned bright red and he ducked his head.

“Thank you,” Leia said diplomatically. To others, she must have seemed incredibly gracious; however, Jyn could see through the façade and had to suppress a grin. “Your words are very kind.”

He blushed even redder, if that was possible, and scurried away.

“Ugh.” Leia buried her face in her arms. “I’m honestly so tired of this hero worship.”

Jyn took a long sip of her drink before saying, her voice practically dripping with sarcasm. “Of course it is totally unfounded. I mean you just sat around on your ass for the entire war. Really, you’re a sham and a disgrace.”

Leia managed to glare at her from underneath her arm. “Somehow, Jyn, you manage to be one of the most irritating beings I’ve ever come across. And I’m including Han in that.”

“How is your smuggler?”

Leia’s cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink as she lifted her head. “He’s not my smuggler.”

“’Course not. You two just live together because you’re totally, completely platonic friends.”

“Like you and Captain Andor?”

Unfazed, Jyn replied, “Cassian and I have an understanding and have been at this a lot longer than you and Solo. I didn’t even think he did monogamy.”

“You and Cassian have been together for years and you’re still calling it an ‘understanding’?”

“You know what, I don’t think we’re nearly drunk enough for this.” Jyn waved back their awestruck bartender. “4 shots of your cheapest rum.”

“Right away.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“No, I’ve had a long day and I need something stronger than this watered-down excuse.”

“You might be an alcoholic.”

“I like to think of it as a prolonged tolerance. Trust me, I’ll let you know if I hit that point.”

“You’re so full of bantha shit, Erso.”

“And don’t you forget it.” Jyn lifted her shot glass in tandem with Leia. “To the new senator.”

Leia narrowed her eyes at Jyn. “Why do I feel like you’re mocking me?”

They took their shots, Leia with far more grace than her drinking partner. “Kriff, that’s horrible.” Jyn said with a shudder.

“You did ask for the cheap stuff.” The bartender interjected, his face twisted into a concerned expression. “I wasn’t sure if that would be alright, considering, you know,” He gestured vaguely towards Leia.

“It’s fine.” Leia waved him away. “You’re terrible.”

“I know. Why else would you keep me around?” Jyn knocked her shoulder into Leia’s and felt a strange surge of comradery that she wasn’t used to out of a combat situation. Leia’s accidental confession following the Rebel victory had instilled in Jyn a sort of protectiveness over the younger woman, even though she knew Leia was entirely capable.

“Naturally, your dashing good looks.” Leia raised the second shot with a wry grin. “To terrible fathers.”

“To terrible fathers. And their daughters.” Jyn echoed, downing her shot. She closed her eyes for a moment, relishing in the gentle oblivion the alcohol provided.

“Nobody can ever know how terrible my father is.” Leia said, her voice almost cracking with gloom. Jyn rested a hand on Leia’s, stroking it gently. “It would ruin my political career. But that means that they can never know who my mother was.”

“You found out who she was?”

“I had to know. I had to know who could’ve loved a monster.” Leia lazily spun her straw around in her drink. “She was beautiful.” Leia said after a moment. “She was a queen and a senator.”

“So this is in your blood, eh?” Jyn tried to put out her most winning smile.

Leia managed a weak imitation. She chuckled darkly. “Kriff, why do I always get so emotional when I drink with you?”

“’Cause we’re messed up, you and me. It’s getting better though isn’t it? I mean you’re in the senate and you’re fixing everything that the Empire did. You’re making the world a better place. You and the rest of them are gonna make sure that there’s never another Empire again.”

“’So this is how liberty dies… with thunderous applause.’”

Jyn hesitated for a moment, processing the younger woman’s words. “Seems a bit overdramatic.”

Leia nodded glumly, sipping slowly at her drink. “My mother said it. To my adoptive father, Bail Organa. As the Emperor took over the senate and the galaxy was plunged into Imperial rule. I found it in a file, deep in the Senate archives. She came from Naboo.”

“Lovely place.”

“You’ve been?”

“Yeah, I did a job there after Saw, you know, uh, yeah. There was a contact there. She wanted something stolen from an Imperial database. I would assume she was passing on information to the Rebellion. I admittedly didn’t care. But she was upper class for sure. Maybe she knew your birth mother?” The flash of hope in Leia’s eyes tugged at Jyn’s heart. “If she was working with the Rebellion, Cassian might know who she was. Or at least have access to the records. I guess you would too, but Cassian’s less likely to get questioned. I’d be more than happy to steal it for you if you’d prefer a more, uh, discreet method. Force knows I’m bored out of my mind.”

Leia’s brow twitched into a frown momentarily. “What have you been up to? I’ve seen Cassian around with some other intelligence officers.”

Jyn let out a short chuckle, pressing her palms into the table. “Oh you know, I think I’ve almost perfected my mother’s scone recipe.”

Leia’s jaw dropped fractionally and her eyes narrowed. “You’re so full of shit.”

“I haven’t been doing anything really. It’s a strange change though. I’ve been fighting for so long that I don’t really have any profitable, legal skills.” Jyn gave a half-hearted shrug, which Leia immediately saw through.

“You have a wide range of skills, Jyn.” Leia’s tone slipped into a far more argumentative one.

Jyn lifted a hand and ticked up a finger. “Guerilla warfare, slicing, bomb making, close combat, oh and don’t forget, infiltration of secret Imperial bases.” Jyn wiggled her fingers at Leia. “I made an excellent partisan and Rebellion fighter. Civilian life, not for me.”

“Hmm, what did you want to be when you were little?”

“A farmer? I dunno. There wasn’t a whole lot of time for me to have developed an interest in anything before Saw took me in. And it’s not like Rebellion ever really wanted me. I mean, Draven wanted to court martial and expel me.”

“You’re welcome for that, by the way.” Leia stated, her voice just starting ever so slightly to slur. Jyn arched an eyebrow at her. “I persuaded Draven that it was counterproductive to the cause to court martial heroes of the Rebellion.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Is Cassian working?”

“Not really. Neither of us are really meant for peace. You know sometimes I wonder if we were meant to die on that beach on Scarif.” Jyn drew her finger around the rim of her glass, gathering the condensation.

“Jyn!” Leia shouted, a bit louder than necessary, drawing the attention of the other patrons. She looked around nervously before lowering her voice. “Don’t say that. I never want to hear you say that again.” She gripped Jyn’s wrist tightly.

Jyn stared down at Leia’s delicate hand wrapped around her wrist. For somebody so small, she was awfully strong.

“Jyn, promise me.” Jyn nodded, twisting her wrist out of Leia’s grip. “Good. Now, let’s sort out some sort of job for you.”

“Know anybody looking for a professional thief?”

“I think you need to rebrand. How about goods acquisition specialist?”  

Jyn barked out a laugh at that. “You’ve missed your calling, Senator, I think. You could’ve made a great ad man.”

Leia rolled her eyes with a sigh. “Well, if being a senator doesn’t work out for me, I’ll have to look into that.” Leia waved over their over-eager bartender. He practically bounded over, his eyes still wide with wonder at the princess. “Bring us a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses please.”

“Of course, right away, Your Highness.”

Leia bit back a groan while Jyn laughed into her shoulder. Leia shoved at Jyn. “Oh stuff it, Erso.”

“Of course, right away, Your Highness.” Jyn mimicked in a squeaky voice, still laughing. Leia rolled her eyes again. “You’ve got to loosen up a bit there, Senator. You’re going to start getting wrinkles.”

“You’re older than me!”

“Mhm, and we’ll see who has wrinkles first, you or me.”

Their bartender returned with the bottle and the shot glasses. He set them gently down in front of them, nodding to Leia. Leia passed him her card, waving him away.

Leia deftly poured them each a shot, shoving one towards Jyn. “To wrinkles.” Jyn echoed Leia’s sentiment before tossing back her shot.

“Ah, he brought the good stuff. Good man.” Jyn grinned wolfishly at the man as he returned. “Cheers, mate.”

He shot her a nervous look before handing Leia her chip card. “Is there anything else?”

“No, thank you.” She waved him off again, turning herself to face Jyn more fully. “Now, let’s find you a job, Erso.”

“Like I said, I have no legal, profitable skills. Cassian keeps suggesting I join the new Republican intelligence group, but I never enjoyed intelligence work.”

“You spent most of the war working in intelligence,” Leia pointed out deftly.

Jyn paused for a moment, “Hm, no, I would say I operated more as a consultant to Rebel Intelligence. I was never officially in Intelligence.”

“Has anybody ever told you you’re insufferable?”

“Cassian. At least twice a week.”

“Good, somebody needs to.”

“As long as somebody’s reminding you the same.”

“That’s what you’re for.”

“Ah, see, there you go, my job is keeping your ego in check.” Jyn poured herself a shot in victory. “Honestly, Leia, there’s not a place for me in this new society. Cassian feels the same I think. We both have only ever lived in wars. Cassian is willing to work for the Republic, but even then, it’s not ‘the cause’.” Jyn took her shot quickly. “You know Cass, always about the cause and the morality of it. But the Republic, it’s not the same.”

“Yes, it is! The Republic is what we were fighting for.”

“No,” Jyn closed her eyes for a moment as she searched for her words. “No, it’s a bureaucracy that shares some values. But for those of us not involved in politics, it’s not much.”

Leia sighed heavily, leaning onto her arm on the bar. “I think you could be a real asset to the Republic.”

“I’m not sure if I want to throw all my chips in with a bureaucracy that still has traces of the Empire.” Jyn held up a hand to Leia who had already opened her mouth to protest. “I’m not saying that as a criticism, Leia, really. But you know probably better than I do that there are some in the Republic that supported the Empire in some way or another, but were careful not to declare out right. Too many of my people died for me to support any vestiges of the Empire.”

Leia’s mouth twisted into a frown. She glared down at her glass, unwilling to look at Jyn.

“Leia, I know that you’re good. I know there are people in the Republic that are good. And maybe it’s just the partisan in me, but I’m not going to change my mind. I’m on your side and the side of those who fought in the Rebellion. But I’m not on the side of some kriffing politician who funded the Empire and looked the other way.”

“Then be on my side!” Leia twisted abruptly in her chair to look at Jyn.

“I just said I’m on your side, Princess.”

“No, Jyn, think about it. You just said you didn’t want to work for the Republic, but that you wanted to support those from the Rebellion, so do that. You can work as a private contractor. You have a set of skills, call it private security and asset acquisition or something. And you can choose who you work for and what you do while still doing something. Plus, it would give you something to do since the image of you baking is one of the most terrifying things.” As she spoke, Leia became more animated, her hands flying around.

Jyn narrowed her eyes as she considered it. “Maybe there is a reason they keep you around, Princess.”

“Senator.”

“Whatever.”

“You and Cassian could run it. I’d hire you.”

“You sure have thought this through.”

Leia shot a withering glare Jyn’s way. “I’m just trying to help you.”

Jyn’s façade softened and she reached out to Leia. “I know, and I’m grateful.” She managed a half smile. “I’ll talk to Cassian about it.” Jyn leaned away and clapped her hands together. “Right, well, that’s more than enough serious discussion for tonight. I didn’t come here to mope about my lack of a career.”

“No,” Leia flashed a grin Jyn’s direction, “You came here to brood and get drunk.”

“Only one of us is drunk and I’m pretty sure it’s you, your royal senatorness.”

“That’s not a real word.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“You’re ridiculous, Erso.”

“Cheers.”

[analphancones]

Behind Closed Doors: Chapter Three

Summary: More stories of how the two came to be

————————————–

After that night, a lengthy debate followed between the two a few days later. Dan was easy to hurt, emotionally fragile and Phil was a man who didn’t believe in cheating, a man who regretted what he had done. Well, he claimed to regret it. He didn’t really, not like he said he did. He wished it hadn’t happened in the sense that his conscience would be clear. On the other hand, he was glad it happened. Days of his wife working late and leaving him sexually frustrated were finally solved in a very unexpected way. Dan could be the perfect outlet, the perfect fuck toy if trained properly. While he loved the idea, got off to it regularly and knew he could get away with it, he still felt uneasy about the whole ordeal.

The day after they didn’t speak much. Every time Phil came anywhere near the teen he would turn bright red and turn away from the older male. Dan didn’t mean to be so shy, he really only was because he showed someone his most vulnerable side and didn’t know how he would react to it when not intoxicated. He was hoping Phil would be calm, collected. Sadly, he didn’t get his way.

“How’d you sleep?” Dan asked, sitting up on the counter while Phil made coffee. It took a lot of courage to speak to him, still blushing like a bride in winter.

“Alright.” Phil said shortly, shrugging and facing away from Dan.

“I had an odd dream.” Dan rambled mindlessly, figuring if Phil wasn’t going to be talkative he would fill the silence with his thoughts. “I didn’t get to finish it though. I woke up when mum came home. Can you hear her snoring?” He giggled softly, seeing Phil tense up at the mention of his mother.

“Yeah..keep your voice down.” Phil said a bit more harshly than intended, looking over at him sternly. “Do not let her find out about what happened last night. She can absolutely never know. Understood?”

“Well duh.” Dan pouted softly, pushing his hair back. “Do you regret it?” He asked softly, biting his lip as he normally did when nervous.

“Of course I regret it!” Phil snapped softly, letting out a sigh and trying to calm his words down. “It was a mistake Dan.”

“So..you don’t want me?” He asked softly, his hopes dropping. “Last night you made it pretty clear you were sexually attracted to me. It’s not like she’d ever have to know..I wouldn’t tell if you wouldn’t.” He tried to coax him. Phil shook his head.

“Dan it was a moment of weakness. I hadn’t gotten off properly in a while, you looked really really good. Your innocence was hot to me when I was drunk and horny but now I see it needs to be preserved. Not to mention the fact that this is illegal. I’m 32. Do you really think it’s a good idea for me to start sleeping with a teenager. Not to mention-” Dan cut him off, getting down and pushing him back against the counter slowly.

“I don’t think you’re understanding my words. I want you to take my innocence. Any shred of it left, I want you to have.” He bit his lip. He didn’t know if what he was saying was weird or hot. “Legality isn’t a factor if no one ever knows. I know I won’t tell anybody..” He said softly, leaning in and nipping his earlobe gently. “And as long as you don’t either, you can have me anytime you want me. Since you seem to be more and more sexually frustrated by the day. I know you love her. So stay for her love. And come to me for the part you’re not getting.” Phil took a steady and deep breath, his hands moving to Dan’s hips gently.

“No one will ever know?”

“Our little secret. I promise.” He grinned, leaning forward and kissing him softly. Lips molded against lips, tongues exploring one another’s mouths with a sense of familiarity they hadn’t noticed before.

From that day forward the two began their secret affair. Even as they unpacked the last few boxes to their new house, Lily thinking she finally had a family, the only thought on her husband’s mind was I can’t wait for her to leave tonight.

Lily didn’t get called into work that night though, which meant Dan was lonely and Phil was frustrated. They both kept these feelings to themselves of course, not showing them to anyone but each other. Stealing kisses here and there, each time Phil would pass by his young lover he’d grope his ass with possessiveness and want.

The house wasn’t too far away from where they were previously located. Obviously not as this would hinder Phil and Lily’s careers as well as Dan’s education and social life. Dan had only made one really, really good friend at school. Sadly, as much as he wished he could share his fondness of Phil Lester with somebody, he had to keep it to himself. So when his only friend showed up to walk with him to school the next morning, taking notice to Dan’s deteriorated mood, hated that he couldn’t answer honestly.

“You look like a big bag of sad.” She smiled, chuckling. The one and only friend Dan had managed to keep around was a short red headed girl with a southern accent that came and went, an angry and adorable girl named Stacy Casey. Everyone called her Peach though.

“Well, I am a big bag of sad.” Dan chuckled, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking with her. “I have no reason to be either.” It was true, one night was nothing compared to how long they’ve had to wait for their secret get togethers in the past months. He just felt so unstable he needed the contact.

“Wanna talk about it champ?” She smiled, elbowing him in the side gently. ‘You got that look on your face I get when Brian is getting flirted with by other girls. You got some romance issues?” She raised an eyebrow. Dan shook his head dismissively.

“No. I’m just a little out of whack. Is this what girls go through when they’re on their period?”

“Are you irrational, angry, jealous, and easy to make cry right now?” She asked and Dan nodded slowly. “Then yeah. Welcome to the world of menstruation Danny.” She laughed. “What girl is it that has one of my best friends in such a rut?”

“Well..see we’re more like fuck buddies I guess. And h-she has been busy, so I’m just kind of sexually frustrated and something about the way my emotions are right now it’s just not sitting right. It’s dumb dude.” Dan chuckled.

“It’s sounds to me like you’re falling in love with this girl. When do I get to meet her?” She grinned, looking up at him from her 4’11 stance. He was short for a guy himself, but still stood a foot taller than her.

“Not happening Peach.” He chuckled. “No one can know I’m with her. I’m keeping my private life private.”

“Man that’s no fun.” She scoffed. “I’m dating a drug dealer and you know this but I can’t know the girl you’re screwing?” She asked as they pushed past the doors to get into school, the bell ringing.

“Maybe someday.” Dan grinned.

After classes all ended Peach wound up running off with Brian, her boyfriend and love of her life. Dan walked home in silence, music playing on his headphones. It was nice out, beautiful weather. He used to get upset over the fact that he had to walk to and from school, but on nice days like this he was thankful. Gave him time to think. Was he really falling in love with Phil Lester? Sure, he adored their time together, he cherished every kiss, every touch, the way Phil’s thumb stroked his hand when they held hands.

Phil was always so careful with him too. They had been doing this for a few months, whatever this thing was. Yet they had never actually had sex. Phil had fingered him, fucked him senseless with a couple digits until he was screaming and seeing stars. He had eaten him out, tongue fucking the most sensitive part of the teenagers whole body until he was coming over and over again from his tongue until he couldn’t anymore. Phil had mouth fucked him instructed him on how to give the perfect blow job, even used vibrators and such on him. And yet had never fucked him, not properly, not yet.Each time Dan asked why he would never properly fuck him it led to an argument of sorts, or well, Dan pouting and getting insecure and Phil having to reassure him it was all for good reason.

“Do you not want me?” Dan asked one night. A sheet was laid over his lower body, him on his stomach. Phil laid next to him and laced their fingers together, shaking his head and kissing his knuckles.

“I want you. More and more every time we do this. It would be so easy to. Every since time we even kiss I imagine how good you would feel around me. But I wanna save it. Your last shred of sexual innocence. I’m saving it.”

“Why?” Dan asked softly, looking up at him.

“Because I know I’m the only person you would give it too. You’re barely 15. No one else has piqued your interest enough for you to even think of giving them that side of you. It’s all reserved for me. Me and me only. I wanna save it until I can make it special for you. I don’t want to cheapen your virginity by taking it on a couch, or in the shower, or in the kitchen while your mum sleeps. I want it to be special. You deserve that.”

Dan wanted to argue, to say he didn’t care where or how he lost it as long as it was to him. But the way Phil spoke made him so admirable. Any other man would have taken it long ago, not bothering to teach a virgin how to suck you off or stretch him or bring him ultimate sexual bliss. Phil wasn’t here just for the sex, he was here for Dan. He was here for sex with Dan. There was friction, a tension between the two. An unspoken thing, as Dan called it in his head.

Once Dan got home from school he noticed the car in the driveway was gone. A grin spread across his face as he realized his mum was at work. He walked in, tossing down his bag and kicking off his shoes, jogging up the steps. He wasn’t one to exercise, he hated running, but he was so eager for this, he had been craving it all night, ever since the moment 24 hours ago he found out he wouldn’t be getting it that night.

Phil was at his desk chair, yawning and stretching out his back as he finished up some editing. Dan always thought his job was so cool, he got to edit films and such for people for a price. It was like the dream job. Never having to leave the house to work, good money, pretty simple work. Dan snuck up from behind slowly, doing the cliche ‘wrapping your arms around your lover from behind’ move, smiling brightly. Phil chuckled, looking up at him and pecking his lips.

“Hello sweet. How was school?” He asked, spinning around to face Dan.

“Boring.” Dan shrugged, moving into Phil’s lap while he was still sat in the office chair, leaned back a bit now. “All I could think about today was you.” And whether or not I’m in love with you.

“Likewise.” Phil smirked, moving his hands to the small of Dan’s back, pushing up his shirt slightly, tracing small patterns against his skin. “Have I told you how beautiful you are yet today?”

“No.” Dan blushed softly, smiling. When they were alone Phil often acted as if they were a couple, rather than what they really were. Dan enjoyed it enough, he liked to pretend.

“Well, you are. So pretty baby.” He hummed, leaning forward and pressing gentle kisses along Dan’s neck and jawline, a gentle moan escaping his lips. As soon as he felt teeth dragging down his throat Dan knew he was in for a good night. Even though he wouldn’t get fucked, he’d be with the man he loved. And the next day, he’d be with a whole new set of emotions.

[empresstress13]

OC Questions!!!

I was tagged by @dragynfox the wonderful! 

I’ve only talk a very little about any of my OC characters on here because I’m shy about them. The few mentions have been from Dragon Age and since that’s my current obsession it’s what will be appearing here as well! I kind of winged this - sorry if it seems disjointed!  

I’ll go ahead and start at the beginning with 2 of my wardens: Surana and Tabris - both originally inseparable troublemakers of the Denerim Alienage! Surana is my “canon” HoF . . . but I head-canon that Tabris manages to somehow survive everything and they manage to reunite in Denerim.

1. What is your name?

BT: *smiling sweetly* Beatrix Tabris! Bea to my friends and Death to my enemies, think 'bout which category you’d prefer to be in.  

NS: *does not look up from a large tome she’s reading*

2. No seriously, what is your name?

BT: *poking Surana*. . . . Nara. . . . NARA! 

NS: *still not looking up* What, Bea? 

BT: *rolls her eyes, before responding in a sing-song voice* civilized people introduce themselves! 

NS:*turning a page* well, since we’re just a dangerous elvhen mage and an impudent alienage thief then there is no point! 

BT:*snatches the tome before dancing out of NS’s reach* ah-ah-ah~! Be a dear and introduce yourself to our lovely new friends, won’t you?

NS: *raising a brow* well, if my lady of shadows insists! I am Nehnara. Nehnara Surana. *sends a minor shock at Beatrix, who gasps and drops the tome which Nehnara promptly picks up*

BT: Andraste’s flammable ass! Shite, that stings, you friggin’ piss-bucket! 

3. Do you know why you were called that?

NS: Presumably my parents were partial to the name. 

BT: *rubbing her side* since she sucks the joy out of things, her da thought they’d at least put some joy in her name . . . hmmmm, Nehn?

NS: My, my, my! Someone’s picked up some knowledge!

BT: See! Even outside of your fancy-pants circle we sometimes learn things! 

NS: *actually smiling* well . . .you were always a quick study. 

4. Are you single or taken?

BT: *with an innocent expression* Taken? Taken where?

NS: *snorts* Don’t be falsely obtuse. It doesn’t suit you; they would like to know about you and your chantry sister.

BT: You’re the one who introduced us! Besides, wouldn’t you rather speak of your pretty, witty crow?

NS: *smiles coyly* Are you asking for details?

BT: Admit it: you have a soft spot for us sneaky types!

NS: ...Perhaps. 

5. Do you have any abilities or powers?

NS: *cocks head* one could say so. . . . 

BT: HAH! And false Modesty doesn’t suit you! Prodigy of Kinloch Hold! Mage of the Circle! Hero of Ferelden! Commander of the Grey! Arlessa of Amarathi-

NS: That last one has nothing to do with abilities or power-

BT: Now you’re bein’ dull, sparky-fingers, political power totally-

NS: AND FURTHERMORE, considering the average Circle mage I very much doubt that’s much of a title to take pride i-

BT: Aaaaand now we see why false modesty doesn’t suit you, besides all that magic stuff seems plenty powerful to us normal folk. 

NS: “Us normal folk” from the Shadow of Denerim? Spymaster of Amarathine? The Dancing Blade? Slayer of evil shem lordlings who were never taught to keep their hands to themselves? 

6. Stop being a Mary Sue.

BT: Mary what now? 

NS: . . . ? These questions are going from slightly annoying and inconvenient to downright inane. 

7. What is your eye color?

NS: . . . . absolutely INANE. 

BT: *flutters eyelashes* will you write me sonnets to my . . .what is the phrase? Cerulean orbs? 

8. How about your hair color?

NS: *sighs* My eyes are hazel. My hair is auburn. 

BT: She’s a ginger alright!

NS: AUBURN. 

BT: *winks* I’m a brunette. 

9. Have you any family members?

NS: . . . . inane and personal I see. 

BT: *gently placing a hand on Nehnara’s shoulder* It’s not uncommon to lose relatives to bigotry and harsh conditions . . . I’m lucky enough to still have my da and cousins . . . but we’ve all lost someone. 

NS: *glaring* Those who were mine just also happen to all be dead. That enough for you? Move on. 

10. I see… what about pets?

BT: C’mere girl!

NS: *whistles* Phaelan! 

*Two mabari war-hounds and several puppies come bounding towards the interviewer. . .I’d brace myself if I were you.*

NS: My hound imprinted on me during the Blight. Named Phaelan . . .aft. . .after my father. 

BT: *pulling Nehnara into cuddles with the mabari* And this is Blossom; Nara introduced me to her! As well as their pups: Linmi, Tulip, and Duncan!  

11. Tell me about something you don’t like.

NS: *deadpans* Inane questions. And those who ask them.

BT: *her smile suddenly turning sharp* Entitled little pricks. That sort usually finds they have very little good coming to ‘em. *smile returning to normal* Nara also dislikes onions and hot weather! 

NS: I do better with heat than I use to . . . I seem to recall that you dislike tomato juice. Not tomatoes, just the juice.

BT: ‘Cuz it’s gross! 

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?

BT: I really enjoy music! Leliana has been teaching me how to play the lute! Oh! And since I’ve left Denerim I’ve taken to collecting and pressing flowers! 

NS: Actually, luckily enough, I do in fact enjoy the study of magic-

BT: And of history, and languages, and science, and politics, an-

NS: Yes, thank you for that insightful clarification. I’ve also been working with Bea on picking up by old slight of hand and lockpicking skills . . . 

BT: And then laughing as your lover fails to pick locks you could open with ease!

13. Ever hurt someone before?

*both start laughing*

14. Ever… killed anyone before?

BT: *still giggling* w. . wait. . . are you seriously asking that?

NS: *smirking and shaking her head* I’m the Warden Commander of Ferelden, and she’s my spymaster in Amarathine. . . what do you think? 

15. What kind of animal are you?

BT: *laughter cuts off abruptly* . . . beggin’ yer pardon; wot? 

NS: *snorts* The dangerous kind.

16. Name one of your worst habits.

BT: She has a tendency to be rude and grouchy. Also, she’s a slob. And she forget’s to eat or sleep! Swear I’m more of a caretaker than a spymaster! 

NS: She’s an obnoxious busybody. Probably why she makes such a good spymaster AND caretaker. Guess I’ll keep her around. 

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

BT: *points at Nehnara*

NS: *smacks her hand away* Stop that! . . . I suppose we’ve both done relatively well for ourselves besides everything this Maker forsaken world has thrown at us. 

BT: Honestly - and I think we’d both say this - we’ve been lucky enough to have been raised by pretty fantastic people. They had their flaws, but, without them we wouldn’t be who we are today. All respect to Cyrion, Adaia, Misyl, and Phaelan! 

NS: . . . well said. 

18. Sexual orientation?

BT: *winks* All are welcome! . . . well were welcome - rather not piss off Leli! 

NS: Why are you so interested in absolutely ridiculous trivia? I’m more interested in the person’s character than what’s between their legs. 

BT: Yeah, but you seem pretty attached to what’s between Zevran’s-

NS: Indeed. 

19. Do you go to school?

NS: . . . I was educated in Kinloch Hold, if that’s what you mean. Though I gained more knowledge from personal study in the libraries than from my teachers. . . . though to be fair there were several competent instructors.

BT: My mum taught me before she was killed. 

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids someday?

BT: ooooh! Maybe Leli and I can take in some of the orphans in Amaranthine! Get a big ol’ house, piss-off the shem neighbors-

NS: Your lover is in fact Human as well.

BT: -get a few more dogs and nugs-

NS: The dogs will eat Leliana’s nugs. 

BT: - train them up a bit -

NS: Are you speaking of the dogs, the nugs, or the children?

BT: Be one, big, cozy family! Well loved and protected! 

NS: *snorts* It sounds rather noisy and messy. Terrifying. 

21. What are you most afraid of?

NS: The child, dog, and nug infested house that Bea is apparently planning on inhabiting. 

BT: You faced demons and darkspawn and all manner of nastiness, and you’re telling me your afraid of a lil’ noise and mess? 

NS: From children or animals that you raise? Yes. 

22. What do you usually wear?

BT: Well, I do like a lil’ bit of pretty or shiny here and there, but overall I dress for practicality. Mistress Fancy-mage over here is the one who has a penchant for dressin’ up! 

NS: I do like fine things. I admit it. 

23. Do you love someone?

NS: . . . Did we not already cover this question? I suppose it is possible to be in a relationship without love, but I do in fact care quite deeply for Zevran. It may have taken awhile to sort things between us, but there you are. 

BT: I think you’re gettin’ better at this speakin’ on emotions thing.

NS: Shut it.

BT: I love my Leli very much! *side-hugs Nehnara* and I love this grump like the sister I never had! 

NS: *blushes* ugh. Yes, yes, I care for you too.

BT: Me, her, and Shianni use to create all sorts of mischief! Drove Soris right up the wall!

24. What class are you?

NS: . . . class? As in . . . what sort of mage I am? I’ll admit I’ve dabbled in different fields quite a bit, but I’m particularly skilled at Spirit and Entropy. I’ve also studied the ancient skills of an Arcane Warrior. 

BT: And she can turn into a spider! 

NS: *sighs* Yes. I also picked up some shape-shifting my Morrigan. 

BT: I never did get to really meet that bird. . . heh, bird. Leli’s been trying to teach me some bard skills!

25. How many friends do you have?

BT: Surprisingly lots! Nara tries to be anti-social, but somehow she just attracts them like flies! Guess what they say about vinegar and honey just ain’t true. 

NS: . . . I think you’re definition of “friend” may be off. Someone who you are acquainted with who hasn’t yet tried to kill you is not automatically a “friend”. 

BT: Of course not! You’ve got a very close friend who HAS tried to kill you after all! 

NS: Ugh. Besides we have plenty more enemies.

BT: Keeps things interesting!

26. Thoughts on pie?

BT: Berry filled pies are a bit of a weakness of mine! But Nara here-

NS: Please don’t start.

BT: Nara can put some pies AWAY. Sweet pies, savory pies, pies she just filched from the cart down the street! I grant you I don’t think she’s had to steal pies recently. . . 

NS: No. I haven’t. 

BT: It’s funny, for someone who can forget to eat AT mealtime, you sure do love your food! 

NS: As with clothing and finery - I do enjoy the finer things when it comes to food and drink . . . I’m just not great at time management. 

27. Favorite drink?

NS: Honey wine.

BT: Any wine! 

28. What’s your favorite place?

NS: Not Kinloch Hold. 

BT: pffffft!

NS: . . . I haven’t felt particularly attached to any location in a long time. There are some places I’d like to visit though. 

BT: Gettin’ your parent’s wanderlust are ya? 

29. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

NS: Lake. 

BT: Ha! Either! 

30. Are you interested in anyone?

NS: How many variations on this will you be asking? 

BT: This one does seem to becoming repetitive? Unless you mean like person of interest? Like under suspicion? There’s a list somewhere . .  . 

31. What’s your bra size?

BT: My what size? 

NS: Bra? . . . . Please ask sensical questions or let’s end this. 

32. Well, what’s your type?

NS: Oh for the love of . . . ! 

BT: Bwhahahahaha! 

33. And what attracts you?

BT: *still laughing* You are really curious, aren’t you? 

NS: *sighs* . . . Fine. Cleverness. Thoughtfulness. Adaptability. Flexibility. 

BT: *smirks* Flexiblity you say?

NS: Shut. It. 

BT: Hahaha! Someone I can have fun with is attractive to me. Someone who is caring as well. 

34. Any fetishes?

NS:Why do I even bother? How is this any of your business? 

BT: Ooooh! Well, Leli and I were just discussing this thing they apparently do in Orlai-

NS: Please don’t. 

BT: And I had a friend who worked at the Pearl who taught me how t-

NS: This is really more than I want to know. Does Cyrion know you were being taught skills from the Pearl? 

BT: Don’t see how that’s Da’s business! 

NS: *rolls eyes* Yes. I have fetishes. I have a very satisfactory sex life. I don’t see how it’s pertinent to this interview however. 

BT: You don’t want to tell us more about Zev’s flexibility?

NS: No. I don’t. 

BT: Hah! As for me, I’ll try almost anything once! Have a hard-limit on physical bondage though . . . 

35. Top or bottom? Dominant or submissive?

BT: *winks* I’m a switch. 

NS: I am not by nature a particularly submissive individual. That holds true in all aspects of my life. 

36. Camping indoor or outdoors?

NS: I believe that I’ve done enough outdoors camping to last a life time. Unfortunately I doubt it will end anytime soon.

BT: Both can be lots of fun in the right company! 

37. Are you wanting the quiz to end?

NS: Quite. If you will excuse us we’re both quite busy individuals. 

BT: *with a final wink and smirk* Catch you later! Don’t do anything that’ll have to knife you for! 

I’m not sure who has done this already, but I’ll tag @thema-sal-shiral, @wardsarefunctioning, @extravagantlies, @fadedforyou, @thranduilsausage, @elfsplaining, @circadian-rhythm, and @love-in-nature. If you’re already done this or don’t have the time feel free to skip! :) 

[shianhygge-imagines]

REQUEST: FFVII Dating Headcanons [Sephiroth]

Okay, so school starts in like two days, and I’m in the process of moving back to my school dorm, which has the shittiest wifi in the world. And I’m kind of stuck with half written requests right now. But anyways, since this was a headcanon, this comes out first.

|Masterlist Link|

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

~ So, going off from my Genesis Headcanons… Since my high school days, I've always imagined Sephiroth to be the serial dater/heartbreaker of the SOLDIER First Class trio. The reason for this, is that I think of Sephiroth being inherently humble, but slightly arrogant as well. And he's honestly really lonely.

~ I don't mean to make him seem like a lonely baby. No. He's fine with the solitude, but he wants more. Someone who can love him no matter what, but not as a friend.

~ So he's constantly going out to meet new people. Taking them home and sleeping with them, because he was taught that only sex made a relationship (you can thank Hojo for his twisted way of thinking). But after spending a night with someone, he doesn't feel anything… So he starts suspecting that maybe it's something wrong with him. But it's not. And there's maybe this constant doubt as he watches the people around him find lovers. And if you had never dropped into his life, Sephiroth might never realize that it wasn't anything wrong with who he was.

~ But you do drop into his life. And you give him a run for his money.

~ You drop into his life, not through Shinra, but as a friend of someone who Sephiroth decided to pursue one day. You were just the really supportive best friend of the person, and you’d come across the two while they were on a date or something. The friend introduced you to “THE General Sephiroth.” And honestly, you’re not really that impressed, and you tell it to his face.

~ Your friend is apologetic towards Sephiroth for your disinterest, but Sephiroth kind of finds it amusing when someone isn’t all that impressed with his accomplishments. Of course you wouldn’t be impressed. You often worked with people of higher regard. People who helped others through charity everyday and didn’t require payment. Those were the people you were impressed by, so a SOLDIER First Class was not so impressive.

~ Anyways, Sephiroth didn’t catch your eye, but you caught his. And pretty soon, you see him nearly everywhere (using that high influence of his to low key stalk you). It’s funny at first, but then you get pretty ticked off with it. Because wasn’t he supposed to be off saving the world or some shit?

~ Eventually, you get fed up enough, catching him watching you, and you stomp over to the silver haired man with a fury, demanding to know why he’s following you around.

~ Poor little Sephiroth isn’t that great with words, and just plain bursts out that he finds you amusing. And at first you just blink at the man in confusion because what the hell does “I find you quite amusing.” mean??? So your only reply is, “Elaborate.”

~ He’s never met anyone that was ‘much weaker’ than him who spoke to him like he was on equal level. And his interest in you increases causing descriptions to flow freely from his lips.

~ He admits that he finds you interesting because you don’t worship the very ground he walks on. And initially it was simply that. But then he observed you more and found how kind yet serious you were. There was a sophistication about you that lured him in. And when you smiled or laughed, Sephiroth found himself holding his breath and unable to look away. Simply put, he admitted, Sephiroth was unfamiliar with the feelings and sensations. The pleasure and pain that plagued his body without physical stimulation. But it all happened whenever he saw you or thought about you.

~ You look at him at first, like he was a pre-pubescent boy, before your expression morphed into one of amusement. Because the great General Sephiroth couldn’t comprehend feelings of affection. And then, all of a sudden, you turn serious, something like pity settling within you. He’s stated when you first met, that all he ever knew was the life within Shinra’s walls. It was a wonder he was able to socialize at all.

~ So you ask the question, “Why do you follow me and observe from the shadows?” You knew the answer. Anyone with decent experience in human interaction knew the answer. But you wanted to hear it from his mouth.

~ There’s a frown on the man’s unearthly handsome features, the slightest downward turn of his lips, the crease in his brow. “It seemed childish,” Sephiroth began, his green eyes catching your own, “But I wanted to know more about you. However... observing from a distance is starting to become insufficient.”

~ “Then why don’t we go get some coffee?” You’d offered the idea more out of a need to educate Sephiroth of human affection. 

~ You’d felt nothing but amiable towards the silver haired man. But as each day passed, and Sephiroth continued to ask you out, you found that perhaps Sephiroth was more than what the media depicted. He was dutiful but slightly carefree, powerful yet vulnerable, inexperienced but weary of life, but above all, instead of the cold SOLDIER First Class that everyone was expecting, he was fiercely loyal and dependent on those who treated him as a friend. It was a surprising innocence within Sephiroth that you found yourself falling for.

~ And then, almost suddenly, the both of you start to crave more. One night of drinking led to a night full of unbound desires and passions where two bodies met in the passions of bliss. 

~ When you wake up the following morning you’re cradled within strong arms, your face resting over his heart and your arms clutching to him. And you feel his hand running through your hair as well. You don’t know how to address this. You don’t know if you’ve just taken advantage of the man’s innocence.

~ As if sensing your thoughts, Sephiroth is quick to reassure you. What had happens the night before, was something that he’d been patiently waiting for since you two started hanging out. And when he finishes with those words, you can’t help but to throw yourself at him, pressing kisses to his lips.

~ “I love you, Y/N.”

~ Living with Sephiroth as your boyfriend, you would have to deal with nearly the whole of the Turks looking after you in the shadows. Luckily though, they are mostly there to protect you. Protect you from who? Why the Silver Elite, of course. Granted, a majority of Sephiroth’s fans aren’t neurotic, so there’s not that many glares directed at you... Except maybe his ex-flings... whooo boy.

~ Sephiroth made a point of letting you watch as he deleted each of his previous flings’s numbers from his phone contact. He wants to assure you that his feelings are genuine. 

~ Sephiroth is the type to give his trust to someone until they do something undeserving of it. So he expects that you would never betray him. And likewise, he would never betray you. (So don’t cheat on him.... please don’t hurt the precious baby)

~ He’s away on missions for Shinra quite frequently, but when he’s back, he’ll spend every minute with you. And he often sets out to bring you back gifts. And due to his position, he has the power to withdraw and deny any mission. Sephiroth often asks you if you feel lonely. And if you do, that he could take leave from his duties to be with you.

~ Sephiroth loves to cook. His apartment’s bookshelves are full of cookbooks, history books, and various sheet music.

~ He picked up playing the violin and piano in his spare time, and has a grand piano in his apartment. If you’re particularly weak for music, he’ll guarantee try to seduce you with his musical skills.

~ Among all his talents however, Sephiroth can’t draw for shit. Even a stick figure is barely manageable for him.

~ Oh yeah... and his hair... while it is silky and beautiful, and you can smell the scent of it as he walks next to you or near you... it’s an absolute pain in the ass to care fore. So he uses and entire bottle of shampoo and conditioner everytime he washes his hair, yes... but it also takes more than ten minutes for him to complete just the act of shampooing...

~ But that just means you get to help him shower... ;P

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

Sephiroth is my favorite... no surprise there.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-fi!

[pr-pr]

Long suicidal rant.

Clickbait? Yes, unapologetically so. Just for that fractional chance that someone would give a damn even though this post is super useless and shitty and pointless, like me.  

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So I remember high school very differently from one of my best friends. He said something I thought I’d never hear, that I was always happy. I guess I was happy around him. He was and is a happy person—the most stable person I know, in fact. We just talked a lot, and we got to talk about a lot of things and still do. Still, I remember high school so differently. We hung out during break times when I’d fawn over a crush, chat, or just chill. Or sometimes we’d cut classes together and just chat. Or go for a jog and end up just eating ice cream.

I remembered high school differently. I remember coming home from senior prom and hysterically crying myself to sleep because I’d failed to make one romantic connection the whole four years and it made me feel ugly and unloveable to the bone. Prom simply wasn’t special for people like me—ones who didn’t star in the romcom, random background extras, a snippet in the burn book. I remember going home and hating school so much I felt suicidal every night. I remember writing a short story about killing myself with shrimps and ascorbic acid—I was a nerdy kid. I remember diagnosing myself bipolar because of the experience. I remember being bullied and just sticking to my diaries. I remember failing at math no matter how hard I tried. I remember begging my parents to put me into a different school.

Of course, I also remember finding ways to cut classes so I can paint and debate the whole day—two of my favorite things to do. I also remember the great times with friends and hiding behind a pillar just so we don’t go through another boring class. I remember the laughs, the platters of instant noodles, the spots I’d linger at to see my crush. I remember it all.

I think of high school and I feel so many things colliding, so many colors bursting. All my memories are like so. And my friends tend to remember them differently. I was this, I was that. I was bubbly, I was friendly—but inside I was battling with social anxiety. They don’t know about how many hours I battled in the morning just to get up, just NOT to give up entirely. There were days I hated my friends because I just didn’t want to wake up and meet them—I just wanted to die instead.

I forget that people don’t actually hear my thoughts out loud. If they did, they’d be so turned off. I’m just such a party pooper inside. I’m always scared, always just wanting to fucking die. It began when I was four—that feeling that everything would be better off with my disappearance. My inability to carry on a suicide plan, really, up to this day, I consider a weakness, a form of indecisiveness, lackluster ambivalence.

I’ve had many dreams, of which dying has been the only consistent one. This doesn’t mean that people see me as emo, gothic or always wearing black. Far from it. I dress in rainbows. My favorite color has always been yellow. Specifically egg yolk yellow, Mercedes de Brazo yellow or that yellow dress I had as a child with the corset back I stopped wearing once it freaked out my mom because I had sleep walked in it.

No, I’m actually quite the party with the people I trust. I get it going. Ask around, you’ll see. It’s called hypomania after all. Still, it all crashes. It always does in a ball of flames and I get lonely again. I feel like a fucking freak again.

And I’m sooooo tired. I’m so tired of all this cycling. People don’t actually see me at my worst. Only my mom and sister do. They don’t see me when I just can’t fucking move. They don’t see me when I have panic attacks. They don’t see me when I descend and break down. They don’t see me starving for days. They don’t see me crying uncontrollably. They don’t see me curl up in a ball. They don’t see me shaking and twitching in a corner. They don’t see me when I bang my head on the wall or start hitting myself. They don’t see me when it hurts and I feel my brain is on fire. They don’t see me when I’m all alone and everyone is asleep and I’m still typing all this shit out trying to make sense of something, trying to find a reason to stay alive.

It’s so fucking hard. Sorry for the French. Sorry ma. Sorry God. Sorry! But life feels like torture right now. I’m just so tired and everything is forcing me to move like I’ve caught my foot on a roller coaster.

Life can be good. Of course. Life can be so fucking good. Especially when I’m in love. But life right now is hell for me. I’m doing stuff I love, sure, but fucking shit! Motherfucking  goats on a ladder, monkey fucking balls, jizz dripping dick, shit show. I’m fucking lonely as fuck. I feel like I’m on an island away from civilization. If I want to be cute about it, I feel like I’m stuck in a tower with fucking guard dragons named Penniless and Insanity.

Life feels like hell for me. I’m fucking burning and I just won’t die. Sure, hell is much worse, but fucking shit, you haven’t been in my head. God! Why? I just feel so fucking frustrated. Is there no way out?

I’m writing my shit, right? Just fucking finish this shit so I can pass it to Palanca which I won’t win anyway. I’m not getting my hopes up. But I want to finish it for the sake of finishing it. I know it’s not much. It’s just about time and unrequited love after all. There’s tons of other stuff like it. Still, STILL. I just want the satisfaction of finishing something. Having some sort of closure. BUT IT JUST WON’T END. I have the middle and end, but there’s that chunk, that problem solving part that just won’t come. You know why? Because I’m trying to write the solution to a problem I currently have no answer to. I’m asking questions I don’t know the answer to. It’s high school all over again, reading the same math problem over and over again and still having no fucking clue, that i wind up fucking crying. 

How do I cope with rejection? How do I become a better me? How do I be independent? Can i just insert “to be continued” in the middle of a screenplay?

Maybe my shrink knows the answer. I haven’t seen her in a while. Honestly, because I can’t fucking afford her like I can’t fucking afford meeting people right now even with isolation fucking driving me fucking mad.

Questions to ask my shrink:

What am I supposed to do when I’m suicidal?

Some people think I’m always happy, should I correct them?

How to not be a party pooper when telling people I’m fucking crazy?

 I think I might have over skinned my lips. Fucking burns. 

This feels just so dumb. Writing this shit down. No one’s ever going to read it. No one’s ever going to understand me. All my life has been about trying to make people understand just so I can feel a little fucking less lonely. Nothing’s changed. People don’t know me. I’m either sunshine or a storm cloud.

Sometimes I wish I could chop off my legs so people could see why I can’t run, walk or just stand. Like yeah. At least now they can see. It’s not like I want a pity party. I don’t. But I want to be understood. I want someone who gets it.

I wish I could treat this. I wish meds will make this go away. But it’ll just manage it. And when I get rid of the deepest blues, I get rid of the brightest yellows and I’ll just have nothing to live for anyway. How the fuck do I live?

I constantly feel fucking worthless and useless. I know it’s the disorder, but it’s not like I can get rid of the disorder. It might as well be an organ on its own really.

I just want to die so badly. I’ve just just had enough. My head’s hurt for what, how many decades now? It just burns and aches and vibrates and spreads throughout my body and nobody understands. I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t want to be scared.

The paranoia doesn’t help. Yeah, you can say it’s kept me alive, the whole panoptical life caused by years of trauma of mom reading my diaries, notes, letters, and text messages. Fucking motherfucking shit. It’s kept me alive in a way. I don’t do drugs, sex and very seldom drabble in legal potent substances. I very seldom lie. I can’t even leave the house without telling my mom. I’m “good” because I just live in constant fear of myself. I feel like everything is a gateway for worse things. I can’t let go. I can’t breathe. I wish I could just be.

I wish I could just breathe. I wish the pain would stop. I wish someone would get it. I wish I was worth it. I wish people believed in me. I wish he never had to leave me. I wish he loved me back. I wish my dad wasn’t an asshole. I wish my dad just loved my family. I wish my mom was ok. I wish I wasn’t so traumatized. I wish I could travel. I wish, I wish, I wish. We can’t have everything we want now.

Look, I have a lot. I got a great education. I got good grades even. I got an okay face. Mom says I’m too pretty, but she’s my mom, of course she’d say that. My mom also says my ass is wide but not big—which is bad because I don’t do enough exercise.

Fuck.

I have a lot to be grateful about. I can write—though no one fucking reads me. I can paint—there’s a giant blank canvass upstairs but no fucking paint (for weeks I SOUGHT). I can cook—as much as the next internet aficionado with taste buds. I can…

I can die.

The thought soothes me. Comforts me. I’ve told my doctor many times before but drowned it out with jokes and I’m okays. She counter checks with my mom who still wishes that all this was controllable, was just imagined. Can’t blame her. I, too, wish this was just a nightmare I could wake up from.

Pinch. No! Haha!

It’s reality. I’m suicidal and I don’t know what I can do about it. It’s not like I’m actively trying. I’m just always considering how much better it would be on the other side. I keep thinking about overdosing on chocolate or eating too much fatty stuff that liver cirrhosis occurs. I keep thinking of finishing something great, an obra maestra, then just jumping off a building or some shit. Anything really. I don’t know.

Sometimes, it scares me, up close. Like that heart attack scare, I thought I wanted to live. But wanting to live is such a fleeting thing. What is more constant, what nags at my brain everyday is what if, what if!!! WHAT IF THIS ALL JUST ENDS.

Maybe this is just a call for attention. But I’m sort of tired of the attention too. I’m so tired of telling people how miserable I am and them filing it in a folder under my name. “Jasper, sap.” “Jasper, toxic.” I’m tired of wearing people thin. If I die, it’ll be like pulling off a band aid, really. Quick. Not like this. A long torturous whine. My existence is like the nails on the chalkboard.

I scratched the blackboard once or twice and it caught my crush’s attention. I kinda enjoyed it. Few times I existed in his orbit, even if it was in the world’s most annoying form. Gold.

This is why my humor is dark. It’s the only way I fucking survive. Laughing at myself. At the in-credulousness of it all. Of existing in spite. Of living through pain for nothing. Ha! Pathetic! To detach myself from myself, so I can look from above and laugh at me as I trip on my own fucking feet—my reason for living.

I’m hilarious. How I blunder through life. How I almost got suspended once because some girls gossiped about my armpit hair. How I fell in love with a man who felt absolutely nothing for me. You know why I fell for him? Because I’d never felt so loved before. Ha! Amazing. Just hilarious.

I don’t want your pity. I don’t even want you to fucking worry. I’m not going to kill myself. I don’t need you to tell me that I don’t seem crazy. Telling me that makes me feel like I just imagined my whole diagnosis you know, and that my brand of fucked up is way beyond medical science. I just want to be underfuckingstood.

Is that so hard?

I didn’t know that a movie about aliens was going to be the movie of my life. I’ve never felt so understood until the movie Arrival, it’s hilarious. I feel like I’m just talking alien and the only solution to my problem is to write a book in the future about it. Fucking shit. I experience life, also, I realized like an alien. Always experiencing everything in the context of the future and past. Everything to me is in medias res. I don’t understand linearity. That’s why I’m always lost. Left and right is a circle to me. Everything is so fucking nonlinear my brain is constantly overwhelmed. Am I happy? Am I sad? I don’t know. Hence my trademark HUHUHAHA/HAHAHUHU. Sort of sounds like a monkey.

WHINE WHINE WHINE

Who the fuck will ever read this shit.  NO fucking one.

My whole life I dedicated to be understood--my whole college thesis all about it. In the words of Ursula: Pathetic.

I remember in fourth grade was it? Yeah, probably. I used abstract art to tell my dad that I knew his deepest darkest secret and he was the asshole of my life. Of course he didn’t get it. I abstracted it for a reason.

Life is like a knot. I don’t know where it ends or begins—all I see is that it’s a tangle I can’t solve.

I’m so fucking needy.

I know the answer isn’t love. Pop culture would tell you it is. It’s not. But what if medication doesn’t help? HOPELESS FuCKiNG SHIT.

One day, I ask the wind, the farts I make when everyone is asleep, will I grow thin? Will I just snap? Will I just finally have enough? Will the guilt of leaving my family behind finally be secondary to my suffering?

Someone has it worse—they say. I just don’t like that saying. Like fuck that shit. FUCK THAT SHIT. Someone always has it worse, doesn’t cancel out the fucking chronic pain of my life. Now I have to feel guilty for feeling bad on top of feeling guilty for being alive? FUCK THAT SHIT.

I can’t sleep. It’s been 5 fucking pages. It’s 3 am.

I used to arrive with sappy you can do its. I don’t think I will this time.

Cheers to one day dying. Cheers to death that comes to all. Cheers to death the great equalizer. Cheers to death, my brain’s last hope for a silencer.