#and it just dawned on me that i’ve only liked a measly 3 people in my life and they all lasted five years or more (him included)

[neo-shitty]

🌪.

[fatgummybear]

Hii idk if you’ve watched your name and listened to nandemonaiya but could I get j a really soft bakugou x reader where it’s like they’re in a moment that’s super loving on the rooftop and yea just listening to that song makes me feel that way :)) thank youuu

Nandemonaiya- A Bakugou x reader drabble/fic

im so sorry this is so late, i feel like i’ve had a million and one things to do and life got on top of me for a minute there! I’m still yet to watch Your Name, though i did listen to the song and wOW IM SOFT T-T it reminded me of watching a sunrise being all cozy in the fresh air with pretty flowers and im going to shut up and actually write this now:D It’s a bit dingy and dark at the beginning i do apologise, but the fluff comes in>.< 

wordcount: 1253

genderneutral language for reader and quirk unspecified:)! Oh- warning for language, we are talking about Bakugou here!          (◠﹏◠✿)

Everyone has a different definition of perfect, some may not even believe in perfection, but this morning could change the mind of the non-believer. Soft sighs, white breaths and warm bodies sat under a periwinkle sky and cotton candy clouds. It was an early summer morning, around 5:30am. That doesn’t explain how you got here though, so let me start from the beginning.

Training had been rough, though there had yet to be a major incident in your second year. That didn’t change the fact that you were exhausted. Everyone was. Self defense and emergency procedure training had been increased tenfold since the many events of year 1. The physical and mental stress of lessons on top of homework and never ending nightmares had... less than pleasant side effects, insomnia being one of them. Nights where you couldn’t get to sleep became more frequent, nights where you could actually sleep were short lived; ended with you waking up in the very first hours of the morning, even beating the early bird by a good couple of hours. Tonight had been one of those nights, sleep disturbed by your own restless thoughts, tossing and turning to the point where the four surrounding walls seemed to mock you and your effort to sleep. The rain that had been pouring overhead steadily came to a halt. Turning once more to face your nightstand, you checked the clock. 3:48am. Exhaling something between a sigh and an annoyed huff, you threw the sheets to the foot of the bed and sat upright, trailing your hands down your face and neck in a new quest to at least feel more awake if you couldn’t shut your eyes.

A shower was out of the question at this time of day, you at least knew that. While the chances of others being awake too were unfortunately high, there was no sense to be made in ruining someone else’s sleep to benefit yourself for a measly half hour. The sink would have to make do. Dragging yourself out of bed and down the hall you quickly reached the bathroom and threw water over your eyes, somehow colder than usual from not being in use and the night air’s influence over the pipes. Standing in front of the mirror, now somewhat more alert, you assessed your current situation and what you could do to pass some time. It was now 4:02, a dark Saturday morning which was arguably better than a weekday. There were no commitments today, no classes, no homework that couldn’t be done tomorrow, no rules saying you couldn’t nap through the afternoon when you finally tire yourself out. However, there wasn’t much to do inside at this time of day, and you weren’t about to knock on doors to see how many were suffering the same fate as you. It wasn’t all bad, though. Your boyfriend, Bakugou would be up within the next hour or two to go on his morning run through campus, always claiming how it would make him better than “shitty Deku” if he got out earlier than him. 

While walking back to your room, you decided to instead take the ‘secret passageway’ up onto the roof of the dorms that you and the ‘Bakusquad’ had stumbled across one night. It was really just a service entrance, holding a small cleaners room next to the stairs, but no one else had braved opening the unknown door, so why ruin the magic for you and your friends, that was where you all frequently hung out when the weather allowed it, sharing silly stories filled with laughter and plotting your next mischievous pranks. The rain was long gone you realised after opening the door, though the scent still lingered and the silence almost created a gentle hum in your ears, coaxing you to walk out further and sit on the still damp concrete. The time was now unknown, having left your phone in your room and the obvious lack of clocks occupying the rooftop. It couldn’t be too far off sunrise, though, as the sky had started to change colour from a blinding darkness into the soft pinks and yellows that came with dawn.

The next hour or so went by fairly quietly, the sounds of the surrounding wildlife adding to the peace. It was still relatively early for people to be up and about, especially for a Saturday morning. You were expecting to hear the teachers get up soon though, to conduct their daily patrols around campus and make sure their home class are all present and okay. However, what you weren’t expecting was to hear the gentle click of a door beneath you opening and the soft tapping of shoes on the concrete stairs. Startled, you turned, expecting a lecture off of Aizawa-sensei or a cleaner for lurking where you shouldn’t be, and at such an early hour too. Braving yourself to look up, you found yourself looking into familiar crimson eyes instead.

“Tch, figures you’d be up here at a time like this”.

You could only stare up at him, shocked at the amount of time that had clearly passed. Katsuki was up and ready for the day. He still had messy hair, but he was in a loose pair of sweats and a fitted shirt, clearly ready to go for his routine jog. 

“You just gonna sit and stare? Get your loopy ass in before you catch a cold, or has sitting on the wet floor for god knows how long already got to you?”

“Nah, ‘m comfy”

This sent Katsuki into some state of confusion, staring at you as if you had grown a second head. How on earth could you be comfy on the wet floor at this time in only a pair of pyjamas? Wordlessly, he sunk down to a crouch before looking you in the eyes, rolling his and plopping down next to you. 

“If I get sick it’s on you, now get comfier. I’m not sparring you on Monday if your stupid ass can’t get enough sleep to even talk properly”. 

You smiled while tucking your head into his clavicle, knowing he was just trying to keep up his bad-boy image. Yes, he was a lot softer around you, being able to rest yourself on him like this was enough to show that, but Bakugou was Bakugou and he would always have some roughness to him. You knew it was highly unlikely for him to actually get sick just from sitting on the damp concrete, his body temperature ran way too high for that. 

This is how the two of you stayed for the next half hour or so, curled together on the rooftop hiding from the world, silently watching the sky turn from light pink to a pale yellow before erupting in fiery oranges and then watching an ocean of tranquil blues dull the embers as the sun rose higher. You were expecting to get tired at some point, possibly going to rest in Katsuki’s bed when he decided to actually go for his run, though you felt the ropes of sleep pull your eyelids shut right there on top of the roof of the 1A dorms. Katsuki looked down and couldn’t manage to stop himself from smiling at you dozing off under his chin. 

A soft “I love you, firecracker” rumbled from his throat. “Hm, what was that?” you replied in a sleepy haze, eyes glossed over as you snuggled further into his chest.

“Don’t worry about it”

[starrybbarnes]

impressions [b.b]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Clint Barton x Reader (Family)

Summary: you’re a new recruit, and Bucky has been keeping on eye on you on why you were hand-selected by Stark. One day he finds out why.

Word Count: 3083

Author’s note: imagine hawkeye being your uncle. the bants would be amazing. anyways, I’m trying to keep writing as much as i can, so if y’alls have any requests, it might come to life! :)

Warnings: it’s a long fic?? Maybe a swear ? some old man humor?

“Well, here we are!”

The car came to a complete stop right in front of the Avengers compound. It was huge, pristine. Almost scary-looking if it weren’t for the sight of two agents in the middle of the front lawn doing yoga.

“Y’know uncle,” you started, “I’m having second thoughts.”

“Oh, nonsense, Y/N” your uncle Clint chuckled. “Everyone is very excited to meet you, especially Wonder Boy.”

You rolled your eyes at the last part. You always wondered what it was like to work with that man. And now it was coming to a reality. You couldn’t thank your uncle enough for taking you under his wing. From a young age, he saw that you were very much interested in whatever “uncle Clint was up to.” It also helped that you had a sharp eye for accuracy.

Therefore, it only seemed fitting that while in school, your uncle would train you 3 times a week after school was done. Before you knew it, you became one of the best markswomen in the family. Next to your Uncle, of course.

The door opens to reveal a very giddy Tony Stark, embracing your uncle in a huge hug and some remarks about the family, the weather, the Knicks,  standard dad stuff.

“And I’m assuming this is Y/N,” Tony said as he turned to you: he stuck out his hand, “An absolute pleasure to meet you.”

“If anything, I’m the one that’s starstruck,” you gushed, “I’m a huge fan of your technology and work in general. It’s pretty cool.”

“You see, Legolas!” Tony cheered, “I’m still hip and coool.”

“Man, don’t make me regret my compliment, Stark,” you groaned, “you sound just like my Uncle on trivia night.”

“Hey, hey, hey” Uncle Clint argued, “I’ll have you know I’m an absolute boss when it comes to pop culture references. The me-mes, if you will.”

“I’m gonna internally combust,” you sighed, earning chuckles from both Stark and your uncle.

“Walk with me, Y/N,” Stark started as the three of you made your way inside the compound, “so tell me a bit about the young markswoman.”

“Well, whatever my uncle told you, it’s pretty much the same. I’m 25, just graduated with my masters, and I happen to have very good aim. Grew up in Queens with my mom and younger brother,” you shared.

“Look at you! A whole degree!” Tony congratulated, “It’s a good thing Barton didn’t immediately put you into SHIELD as I first intended.”

“Believe me, it was a tug and pull,” you said.

And you were right. Your skills kept getting better in high school, and you remembered how badly Tony Stark wanted to recruit you. You were to be the next protege, and quite frankly you didn’t want any of that.

You remember clearly when Stark came to visit you during your senior year of high school and you flat out told him: “Listen, I’m a teenager. I’m very self-centered right now. I’m only 17, and the biggest issue in my life right now is whether or not I can afford to apply to my dream school. I’m tryna go to college. And maybe have a boyfriend, who knows. Point is: I’m not ready to be recruited.”

That explanation definitely shook your entire family, and Stark knew that you were S.H.I.E.L.D material, but understood your different passions. It was a very mature thing for you to say, and he was impressed. You vaguely remember telling him “I won’t let these skills go to waste. I’ll give you a call when I’m ready.”

And ready you are now. Granted, you would rather work on your non-profit to train kids to become S.H.I.E.L.D recruits, but you knew Stark would be more than happy to give you advice on how to successfully pull it off.

“Well, I’m overjoyed you joined our team,” Tony thanked profusely, “Your talent is amazing.”

“Anything my Uncle do, I can do ten times better,” you added.

“I won’t complain about that,” Clint said as he ruffled your hair.

“Are you ready to meet the rest of the team, Y/N?” Tony asked as you walked towards the door of the common area.

“I think so?” you hesitated, “Hey, uh, Stark? Is it okay that you don’t let the team know that I’m like, part assassin, part scary graduate.”

“Keepin’ it humble, I respect that,” Tony chuckled.

“Thanks, Tony,” you smiled, a small plan brewing inside you. Your uncle already knew of it, and when you guys made eye contact, he gave you a thumbs up.

“So how do you want to be introduced: intern? Assistant? Your Uncle’s dietitian, which by the way, he needs one.” Tony proposed.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” your uncle scoffed.

“How about, shy intern training to become full time at the compound?” you offered as the three of you faced the door.

“Perfection,” Tony simply said, “Now, it’s showtime!”

Tony does his signature grand entrance and simply extends his arm out, earning one single applause from your uncle. It was very fitting.

“Everyone,” Tony Stark started, “I’m sure you’re all familiar with Old Man Hawkeye. Well now, I present to you his niece!”

You slowly emerged from behind your uncle and shyly waved to the team, “Hey guys, my name is Y/N, and I just started my internship here.”

“Y/N is an absolute smarty pants I tell you,” Tony began once again, “she has a Master’s degree!”

Claps and cheers erupted with the team. Steve was the first to speak, “Well, I’m personally very proud of your accomplishments, hopefully, after your time here, you’ll consider staying here for the long run.”

You just smiled, you couldn’t believe that the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan was proud of you.

One by one, the Avengers went up to you greeted you individually. You were most excited to grow your friendship with Wanda and Nat, seeing was you three were clearly outnumbered.

“We gotta stick together the three of us,” Natasha commented, “It ain’t safe here.”

“It just reeks of testosterone,” Wanda added, “you’ve become mine and Nat’s blessing.:

Thor was super happy to meet you as well, as he now has a new opponent to challenge in drinking, to which you responded with “you’d be surprised at how much I can take, Mr. Lord of Thunder.”

Both Sam and Rhodey were very appreciative of you, and couldn’t wait to discuss anything and everything. Sam more about if you’re the prankster type, and Rhodey more on the topics of bad scary movies (this week’s choice: Jaws.)

Banner was super excited that there’s another person with a passion for the sciences and social work, and you knew you’d hang out in the labs a lot. Vision was just grateful that there was another person to add more inside jokes.

And then there was Bucky. Naturally, he was the last one to greet, but that didn’t stop you from sweating your balls out. You admired him greatly.

All he did was give you a handshake, flashed an adorable smile, and simply said: “Welcome to the team, Y/N, the name’s Bucky.”

You croaked a small thanks, and shuffle next to your uncle, trying to hide your face, ears turning pink from embarrassment. You couldn’t deny that Bucky was an attractive fellow. It would be like denying that the Sun is bright.

“It’s those eyes, I’m telling you,” your uncle said to no one in particular, “Stark, I really don’t know how you do it.”

“That’s what you got from a handshake between him and your niece?” Stark asked.

“Like I said, I’m cool and hip.”

You and Bucky just glanced and quickly smiled at each other before staring at the ground.

You could sense Bucky was gonna warm up to you soon.

。。

6 Months Later

Your ‘internship’ was better than anything you’ve ever asked for. Sure, no one knows that you can take someone down that’s double your size with a measly flip, but you showed your strength and ingenuity elsewhere.

You got to sit down during briefings, work alongside Stark to innovate tech, and even got to observe Hill and Fury as directors. All this information was more than you’d ever accumulate during your all-nighters in college.

You still trained with your uncle, but this was where it got tricky (but not like the Run-D.M.C. song, though). Certain supersoldiers were night owls, and others liked to wake up at the ass crack of dawn for their dumb run. This is definitely not college.

So what you and your uncle would do is go to the gym that was at the very other end at the compound immediately after breakfast. People knew there were offices in that general vicinity, so no one questions it.

You remember Bucky once asked what you’d do on ‘the other side’ and you would just reply, “lame intern stuff, filing, and organizing.”

He has bought it, but it just gets harder to hide this not so obvious secret. He knows you sometimes hit the gym because he knows you’ll “practically melt” if you were to step foot in one.

And he knows weird tidbits like your favorite spot to people watch, your favorite campus cafe, and what cat you would like to have as a pet (a black one, because they remind of a time when you wanted to be a witch).

Sometimes you’d be a night owl with Bucky and join him in the common area and you guys would just talk. And soon after, you guys became really close. Nothing was hidden from each other, and it was nice to confide in someone.

You were still shy around everyone else (minus the gals), and people knew you wouldn’t hurt a fly. Bucky would specifically notice all the details that he enjoys about you. You’d do the same, only you tried to conceal any indication that you liked Bucky.

Your uncle would notice it too. “You know, one of these days he’s gonna catch you slipping. I’ve heard him ask for you around the same time you come train with me,” He mumbled, sipping some tea out of his mug. Mornings like these were the best: tea time with your uncle.

“Is this in relation to our feelings for each other or the fact that I can probably beat up Bucky?”

“Hmm, either work. So you do like him, eh??” Clint chuckled.

“Great,” you huffed, “another person knows.”

“I’m telling you, it’s his eyes,” Clint commented, “no one has eyes as beautiful as his.”

“... Don’t you have blue eyes??”

“Yes. But the point is, you gotta reveal your skills now,” your uncle added.

“What if he thinks I’m weird?” you whined. Your uncle just stared at you and continued drinking his tea.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Clint consoled. Both of you heard some footsteps coming from the hallway, and saw a freshly showered Bucky emerge.

“Speaking of the Dreamboat,” Clint said, “Bucky!”

“Good morning to you too, Clint,” Bucky smiled, “you’re in good spirits today.”

“That’s because Y/N has to tell you something life-changing,” Clint gasped, winking at you to see if you got the idea. He quickly scurried towards the gym and left it at that.

“Goddamnit uncle,” you mumbled, a laugh escaping from Bucky. Your cheeks flushed red as you lowkey checked him out.

“So, what’s this ‘life-changing’ statement of yours, sugar,” Bucky inquired, his nickname for you throwing you off.

“I, uh, um,” you stuttered, “well, I was thinking about, um, maybe training under someone. And, uh, I know we’ve, um gotten closer.” Bucky nodded in agreement.

“So canyoupleasetrainmeorsomething,” you quickly got out, your breath nearly turning into a heave.

Bucky looked at you with genuine happiness, “I’d love to, y/n. When did you want to start?”

You saw the clock: 9:35 AM.

Usually, you’d start at 10, so for him to see your stunts, he’d have to come slightly later.

“How’s 10:30 sound? I took into account the time it takes for me to get ready and my complaining.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bucky stated, winking when he said, “I’ll see you soon.”

You blushed once again and waved goodbye to him. Quickly you sent a text to Tony and Clint saying to gather towards the gym and to bring anyone that was free.

Bless Bucky’s heart. He didn’t know what was in store for him.

。。

9:50 am

The gym was quiet, as usual, with the exception of another agent running on the elliptical. You had changed quickly and briskly walked towards your uncle.

“No one’s here yet,” Clint observed, “Do they even know we have another gym?”

“Don’t worry I told Bucky to come at 10:30, and everyone else at 10:15, so we can warm up and give a real show,” you beamed.

“Well, it’s almost time, let’s just work out like a normal day,” Clint said.

“Aye aye, Hawkeye,” you saluted, mentally congratulating yourself that you came up with that on the spot.

。。

10:25 am

Sweat had been going down your spine, and you weren’t tuckered out yet.

One by one the team came walking in to observe what was going on, and so far, they were really impressed.

The first half-hour was you and Clint basically doing a mix of sparring, some agility tests, and a bit of archery. You didn’t want to show off just yet, but you’d throw a couple of tricks here and there.

Tony commented something about the “Manchurian Candidate walking towards the gym,” so everyone scrambled to make themselves look occupied, while also observing the scene was about to unfold.

You then looked to Clint and simply said, “Knives?”

“Knives,” your uncle responded.

And with the same agility you had before, you walked towards the indoor range to the side and picked your favorite knife. You quickly saw the clock read 10:28 so you decided to just go with the flow.

As if on cue, Bucky walked in greeting Steve, and then set his eyes on you. You hadn’t heard him walking into the room, and you just went ham on the knives.

Each target that would light up, you’d throw your knife and hit it in the dead center. The sound of the knives hitting the target would be unsettling to some, but it was just background noise to you now.

You then grabbed a bow and arrow and decided to hit the furthest target that you could see, which was a good 20 feet away. And just like with the knives, you’d hit the bullseye.

Your uncle decided to spar once more, but this time you were put up against an agent, John. John would train with you sometimes, and he offered to take part in the show today.

You started throwing punches, and John did not hesitate to strike back. It went like that for about 5 more minutes until you saw John struggling a bit. You did your classic flip maneuver and took him down. You and John started laughing, and your uncle came over to give you a high five.

You turn towards your audience and received some hoots and hollers. All but from one person.

To say Bucky looked mortified was an understatement. Here was a soft and reserved girl who wouldn’t hurt a single soul, throwing knives at targets and taking down a big guy.

Everyone had left the gym, and Bucky kept his mouth agape.

“Bucky, sweetie, you’re gonna catch flies,” you commented as you reached for his cheek and closed his mouth, “you seem, distant. Is everything okay?”

Bucky blinked, then spoke: “Did you learn that in a day??”

You laughed, “More like in 18 years, Buck.”

“Years?!” Bucky almost screamed.

“Yeah, my uncle has been training me since I was a kid. I like this stuff, it’s really fun and exhilarating,” you said nonchalantly, “Tony made me a SHIELD agent about six months ago.”

Bucky just had an incredulous look on his face. He really didn’t know what to think.

“It just… looked so cool.” Bucky whispered, “why didn’t you tell me earlier??”

It was your turn to not say anything, “I thought you were gonna think I’m weird, or like an overachiever like Steve.”

“Doll, do you know who I am?” Bucky asked as he stepped closer towards you, “I wouldn’t judge you for anything, and you know that.”

He pulled you into a hug, his chin resting on top of your head, “and, quite frankly you looked really hot while doing it.”

“Even when I put John in a chokehold?”

“That was the best part.”

Bucky let go of you slightly and simply looked at you with that longing feeling in those rom-com movies. You know which ones.

You decided to take it upon yourself and close the gap once more and kissed Bucky on the lips. He was a bit startled at first but soon caught on. Hands on your waist, he pulled you as close as humanly possible, and your hands immediately wrapped around his neck.

The two of you pulled away, breathing heavily. You sighed in content and simply said, “Everyone was right, your eyes really are dreamy.”

“Why not look at them all night when we go on a date later today?” Bucky said with confidence in his voice.

You smiled once more and quickly kissed Bucky on the cheek, “I’d love that, Buck.”

The sound of the door slamming open pulled the two of you out of a trance.

“Stark! You owe me twenty!” your uncle hollered as he motioned for the two of you to leave the gym.

You groaned. “I’m gonna internally combust, Uncle Clint.”

“Not before you stare at Bucky’s eyes again. Now get out of here, lovebirds. I’m trying to work out,” Clint grumbled.

Bucky grabbed a hold of your hand, walking with so much glee.

You looked outside the window and saw agents doing yoga.

“Hey, Buck?”

“Yes, y/n?”

“Let’s go do some yoga,” you offered. It was the first thing you saw when you got here, and now you get to share that activity with someone you cared about. Bucky nodded in agreement and you guys walked outside, holding hands, basking in the sunlight and the birds chirping.

。。

Hope you enjoyed! :)

[anarchy-lives-eternal]

Charlastor Week Day 3– Cooking

Losing Your Soul (By Accident) Part 2

After taking Charlie to see some of the nearby sights, and watching her run around like a small child on a sugar high, Alastor thought it best to take her to his home. He had inherited it from his beloved mother, may she Rest In Peace, and had lived there ever since.

Suddenly, the demoness was right there in Alastors face again, “Oooh, are you going to cook something? I can’t wait! Can I help you cook?”

Alastor maintained his smile, though barely. You see, Charlie had a strange way of moving in which she somehow managed to always find his blind spot right before approaching quickly into his personal space. He never saw it coming, and he didn’t know how she did it. It was beyond unnerving to him.

“Of course, my dear! Extra hands in the kitchen are always welcome.”

She backed up, and Alastor sighed in relief, “I can’t wait! This is all so exciting! Everything is so cold and blue, but warm and alive!”

Alastor chuckled warmly, if there was anything he was enjoying about this odd night, it was how childlike and lively the princess was: always hungry for information, always yearning to see-do-know more. It was quite refreshing after dealing with such boring old stiffs all day at the radio station.

Soon the pair arrived at Alastor’s home. It was a quaint little thing, settled neatly in the French Quarter. The place had been owned by his family for generations now, the bricks a bit worn, and the terrace woven with ivy, but it was where he had grown up, and it was still nice. Alastor had updated much of the interior himself over the years, starting when his dearest mother was still alive, and only finishing but a few years ago.

“Here we are darling! It isn’t much, but it’s home, and now that you know where it is, I suppose you’re welcome to come by anytime I’m around.”

Charlie looked up at the home in awe, her eyes alight with curiosity, “It’s so pretty! Oh, I just love the terrace. And the area is so lively! I never would have expected you of all people to live in a place like this.”

Alastor looked at her, a little offended by her words, “Well where did you think I lived? A shack?”

Charlie immediately backtracked, waving her hands about, “No no! I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant you didn’t seem like the type to live in such a bustling place, that’s all. You seem like the type to like it a bit more quiet than this.”

Alastor laughed as he unlocked the door and walked in, Charlie following closely behind. He should have known. If Charlie was anything, it was sweet as apple pie, “Actually, my dear, I quite like it here. I like people watching, and there’s plenty to see here. Yes indeed, never boring down here in the French Quarter. It’s where all the action happens!”

As the door closed, Charlie decided that she was done hiding her true appearance, her height adjusting, skin paling, cheeks becoming their normal rosy tone, horns protruding, and eyes returning to their beautifully strange coloring. She chuckled a bit as well, “I should have known. Men like you never are happy when you’re bored. Now let’s go inside! I’m so excited to help you cook!”

Just as the pair were walking up the stairs and through the top doorway to the actual home area, Charlie let out a pained yelp, nearly falling down the stairs in her haste to back away.

“Charlie! Sweetheart, what happened?”

Charlie rubbed gingerly at her forehead, “I... I don’t know. I tried following you, and then it felt like hitting a wall and... and I don’t know what else that feeling was, I’ve never felt it before.”

Slightly concerned, Alastor took her hand away from her forehead to see if maybe something hit her, as odd as that was since he didn’t see anything, and noticed a small burn right on her forehead.

“Darling, there’s a burn on your forehead. Is that what you felt?”

“Burn? Don’t be silly Alastor. I don’t get burned. I’m immune to fire, or did you forget I’m the princess of Hell?”

“Well I’m sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but that’s a burn!”

“Well why is your house burning the unburnable?!”

Suddenly, something occurred to Alastor, and he ran up the stairs, reaching for the top of the doorway and pulling down a small drawstring bag. He brought it down to Charlie, “Try touching this.”

She cautiously reached out, but as soon as her fingers touched it, she hissed and jerked away quickly.

Alastor chuckled, pulling the bag away, before opening it and tossing the contents out in the street.

Alastor patted his hands as if to get rid of any dust, “Well that otta do it! I had completely forgotten about that ok gris-gris my momma made way back in the day. It’s a special spell to ward the home. Now, why don’t we head on up and make my mommas famous jambalaya!”

Charlie just smiles, still a little put off by the experience of actually being burned, “Yeah, that sounds good. I can’t wait to help.”

They entered the home smoothly, and without incident this time, and Alastor led her to the kitchen after hanging his coat.

“Alright, my dear! Are you ready? It’s near impossible to ruin jambalaya, so we’ll start with that!”

Oh how wrong he was.

Alastor stared at the mess of his kitchen, the 10 gallon pot on the stove gurgling and hissing disturbingly. He didn’t know how, but Charlie had managed to summon some form of hellish monster into his kitchen using only some shrimp, bell peppers, and rice.

“Charlie.. what unholy concoction have you summoned into my kitchen?”

“Um... I suppose I should start with ‘I’m sorry’ and end with ‘I’ve never cooked before’.”

Alastor looked at her, rather bewildered. He had never imagined that anyone could ever ruin jambalaya so heinously.

“Charlie... this thing is a crime against everything good and godly. How, pray tell, does one ruin jambalaya?”

“I told you: I’ve never cooked before! I was never allowed to.”

“I can see why!”

Charlie huffed, crossing her arms, “I’m a princess, what do you expect? In all my millennia, I’ve never once had to touch a stove. Why do you think I finally wanted to learn?”

Alastor flailed his arms wide, “Well forgive me, princess, but— wait. Millennia?”

Charlie just waved her hand, “All is forgiven! Now I guess I gotta get rid of this thing.”

And then she lit the pot on fire.

Alastor wouldn’t have had a problem with it, if it weren’t for the fact that she lit the entire stovetop on fire.

“What are you doing? Are you trying to burn down my house?”

Charlie just looked at him with a deadpan, “Al, I can replace it with a snap of my fingers, stop freaking out!”

Alastor was getting a tad frustrated at that point, “That doesn’t mean it’s okay to just light things on fire, darling!”

Charlie cocked her head, “Why not?”

Alastor realized what the problem was, then: she had grown up in Hell. She wasn’t used to people just not being able to do these things, “Darling, people don’t control fire up here. We don’t have powers like that. You can’t just go burning things, even if you can replace them on a whim, because humans can’t do that.”

Charlie’s eyes widened, realization dawning on her face, “No powers? How are you supposed to be able to defend yourselves then? How do you humans do anything?”

“That’s what guns and knives are for, sweetheart.”

“That’s preposterous! Guns and knives are only used for sadistic purposes, not actually defending yourself! Not for doing menial tasks! How the hell has your race survived all these years?”

Alastor blinked. She was sweet, but he realized now that she truly was a hell born demon: no real concept of weakness, or mortality. It was an odd feeling. He would possibly be like that one day: no concept of time ending, no fear of life running out, no need to do actual work to get things accomplished.

And then he realized the stove was still on fire, and the dying wails of her monstrosity we’re finally finished echoing through the room.

“Charlie! Can you put out the fire and replace my stove now?”

“Oh! Sure!” And she snapped her fingers, and true to word, he had a brand new stove, free of fire.

“Well that’s useful.”

Charlie smiled delightfully, “You’ll be able to do that when we return to Hell! Until then, your stuck relying on me for such things I guess. It’s a good thing I stayed! You obviously can’t fend for yourself, so I’ll just make sure to keep you safe.”

Alastor just stared at her for a moment, wondering if she was being serious, “Darling, I’ve been taking care of myself for a good decade and a half now, I don’t think I need you to protect me.”

Charlie was the one to stare at him now, “Only a decade and a half? You’re such a baby! It’s so sweet, Al. ‘I’m a big kid!’ is really all I hear. Don’t worry, I’ll show you how to do it properly!”

“You can’t even cook, Charlie!”

She huffed, “Well at least I don’t need measly little knives and bullets to protect myself.”

Alastor knew at that moment, he would forever have a twitch in his left eye.

Aaaaand Cut Scene, exit left! I hope you guys enjoyed my fic, there will definitely be more, as I’m having a criminal amount of fun writing it!

[alitheamateur]

Party of Three

TOMMY CONLON ONESHOT

Characters: Tommy Conlon/OFC

Warnings: NSFW. Explicit Sexual Content. Language. Brief mentions of childbirth. Fluffy fluffy fluffy.

Party of Three

*Quite lengthy. I just got carried away with Tommy Conlon. It happens to the best of us*

(GIF NOT MINE)

The strobing of a weak streetlight bulb flickered as the haze of dawn drew pink and orange waves of the sunrise in the Pittsburgh skyline. While most 31-year-old, sensible men were still tucked into their Egyptian cotton sheets, nuzzled into the crook of their college-sweetheart turned lawyer wife, Tommy was jogging alone before daylight half withdrawn from the 8 days without Oxy. The sweat sagging neck of his hoodie smelled of exercise and rock-bottom, and his stomach churned from the lack of practical nourishment his breakfast of whiskey and dry-toast lacked. His night-shifts down at the new factory mended his bank account enough, so he had finally relocated from the mildewed, night-mare stained childhood bedroom at his pop’s place. The paint was chipped, the carpet was slimy and stonewashed, and the bathroom sink seemed to be eternally clogged, but his name was on the lease. It belonged to him, and it was his own to tarnish, and morph into a lifetime den of twisted memories. 

He rounded the final corner of his 3-mile journey, approaching the two-stepped stoop of his gray townhouse and the chugging engine of a garbage truck roared up the street beside him. He turned, nodding an empty ‘good-morning’ to the driver exhaling his nicotine morning breath out the window, when a yelping body apparently below his peripheral line of sight collided with his stalky glide.

“What the fu-“

His dry-worked hands skidded across the crumpling sidewalk to keep his teeth from implanting into the concrete, and smashing whatever lightening quick object had made its way under his running feet.

“Cole! Oh my God, are you alright, sweetie?!”

Tommy felt a squirming, snubbing mass finagle free, to run towards the safety of the panicked, flailing arms of the fitful brunette galloping down the driveway. A small boy with a shaggy bowl haircut, decked in the white-cotton threads of a karate suit, wiped the streaking tears down his flushed cheeks, and wrapped his lanky arms around the waist of what appeared to be his older sister. Aunt, maybe?

“I’m so sorry. He’s a little excited. He ran ahead of me out the front door before I could wrangle him up. Are you hurt?” The striking hazel eyes of a petite face framed in chocolate, wavy mane knelt to assess the child for bruises or blood.

“I’m uh… Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Is he… is he okay?” Tommy stuttered, searching his face for injury.

“No blood, no foul. Right, sweetie?”

“I’m not hurt, mommy. Boys who know karate are tough, ‘member?” He peered up at his young mother, puffing his chest to allude imaginary muscles there.

“That’s right, how could I forget?!” She conked a fist to her noggin at the little man beside her. “I’m Whitleigh, by the way. And this is Cole. We live next door now. Just moved in a few days ago.” The lady outstretched a shaking hand, and Tommy noted the lack of a ring on her left hand.

“Oh yeah? I saw some movin’ trucks out front. I’m Tommy. Tommy Conlon.” His clammy palm met her feminine skin, and he might’ve even weakly smiled at the sensation of her touch. “So, karate, huh? You prolly a real scrapper, ain’t ya’?”

“You’re um, you’re a fighter or something, aren’t you? I’ve seen you in the paper before, I think.”

Tommy dropped his head diffidently at her inquisitiveness, peeling back his hood to palm the back of his blotched neck.

“Really? You fight people? Like, like a real-life wrestler?!” Cole yipped, eyes widening at Tommy like he was some superstar in the flesh.

“Uhhh, somethin’ like that, I guess. But, I couldn’t take you, that’s for sure.” Tommy weak fisted the boys bicep, and he chuckled with a snaggle-toothed smile.

“Well, we better get goin’. Cole has a big meet this morning down at the Y, and we’re already running late. See you around?” She suggestively hurried the boy up the drive towards her black sedan parked near the front porch, combing the blonde hair from his eyes.

“Right, yeah. Um, I’m sure I’ll be seein’ you guys.” Tommy cleared the lump in his throat. He hadn’t exchanged a conversation of this length with another human being in months, and his mouth felt tired from the foreign amount of chit-chat.

“Mommy, can Mr. Tommy come watch me today? My friends would think I was the best if a tv fighter came to my match!”

Whitleigh’s mouth fell open into a slack smile as she clicked the boy into his back-seat booster. Her eyes caught the rising sun, and Tommy felt an unfamiliar stir somewhere near his heart. Like, maybe there was actually a beating organ inside his scathed, tattooed chest.

“Not today, buddy. I’m sure he’s got lots to do. Maybe another time though, alright?”

Tommy coughed, and scratched his five o’clock shadowed jawbone. “You can show me those skills some other time, Cole. Good luck today, though.”    

The adolescent lad nodded with hopefulness, and she latched the rear-door while coyly smiling at Tommy from a distance.

Tommy turned his back, stomping up his porch and beginning to peel loose the ratty confines of his sleeveless sweatshirt. This newfound, sudden appearance of tangible emotion had him questioning his insane decision of recent painkiller sobriety.

……

Whitleigh and Cole settled nicely on the block, and next door to Tommy, the man they both had inherited a specific soft spot for. The impressionable, aspiring karate kid carefully noted his fighting role models routine, and would wake up every morning before the birds even began stirring, to watch Tommy stretch, and yawn as he jogged down the sidewalk, only keeping track of him when his shadow would fall into the glare of a streetlight. Then, he’d settle back beneath the rumpled covers of his plaid patterned sheets, and wait for his mother to rouse him for school.

Whitleigh’s sprouting intrigue for the brawny man next door however, was certainly one of a more adult rated nature. She found herself tip-toeing passed the living room window more often than necessary to check for stirring in the house next door. Was he home? Was he home alone again? She waited specifically unnervingly for another excruciatingly hot evening hoping the sticky summer sun would have him washing his motorcycle shirtless on the curb again, covered in sweat and cool drippings from the water hose. He was like living, breathing, X-rated erotica for her to enjoy at her leisure. Not only had he been candy for her eye, but his extreme observance, and need to protect she and Cole moved her greatly. If the motion light she nailed over the backdoor detected any movement, and clicked on, she’d find Tommy peeping through his own curtains as she did the same, investigating the surroundings. And when the mailman seemed to be lingering on her porch one morning while she drank her coffee in the swing, Tommy ran him off quite harshly, informing her the guy was a no good, ex-con.

One Saturday evening, she was scurrying, and tripping over her own two feet trying to wag in grocery bags with the help of her as always very active 6 year-old. The thin strap of her black, flowing tank top was sliding over tip of her shoulder, and she blew a lock of her untamable hair from her eyes, giggling as Cole’s hiccups from gulping his slushy too fast on the car ride home echoed from behind her.

The trunk of her car slammed to a close, and she heard the rustling plastic of more bags being unloaded.

“Tommy! Hey, Tommy look! My tongue, is it blue?!” Cole’s toothless lisp screeched at the man walking up the steps with an impressive amount of cargo lined on each arm.

“Yeah, buddy. It is. Whatchu been into, ya’ lil smurf.”

“He insisted on a slushy at the grocery. And he did so well at practice this morning I just couldn’t say no.” Whitleigh smiled, pinching her tongue to aid in concentration as she maneuvered for the front door key.

“I got a medal, too. Most ‘intuned’ in the class!”

“Most-improved, baby. You’re most-improved.”

Tommy, and the child’s mom chuckled to themselves, careful not to discourage Cole and his little blunder. She kicked the door open easily, Tommy catching it with his own foot to prop it open for Cole and the measly two bags he carried.

“Hey uh, how would you feel about maybe takin’ a run with me in the morning, Cole. It’s gonna be a hot one, and I could sure use somebody to go with me. You down? If your mom says it’s okay, o’ course.” He tousled a noogie over the boys head, and looked side-eyed to Whitleigh as she lunged upward to store the unloaded contents in the cabinet.

The waistline of her light-washed, denim capris clung perfectly fitted to her displayed backside, and Tommy caught a glance of her tanned lower back. Her figure wasn’t toned, and gym-fit like the twenty-something, single women around town. But the way her womanly hips curved, and her thick thighs from the exercise of chasing the likes of a hyperactive kindergartener moved, very much had Tommy’s approval.

“Oh, Tommy… I don’t think you really want him tagging along. Won’t he slow you down? And you’d have to keep a really close eye on him. It’s barely daylight when you leave.”

She turned away, mouthing curses to herself for giving away that she had seen him leave the house a few times before dawn when she heard the pattering racket of his front door closing. Cole wasn’t the only person on dutiful neighborhood watch. She may, or may not have been checking to see if it was indeed a female making her break for it after a night of tantric rolling in the sheets with her unannounced crush.

“He’ll be fine, Whit. I’m not incapable of taking care of a kid, y’ know…” He rolled his eyes, trying and failing to appear insulted.

“MOMMA, MOMMA! Please, please, can I go wif’ Tommy? Please!”

The mother hen sighed, and reluctantly nodded the granting consent and Cole began hipping and hopping circles around the kitchen counter, throwing in a few of his martial arts kicks, and grunts to boot. His erratic spinning of circles weighed heavy on his balance, and Tommy caught his wheezing, giggly body before he toppled face-first onto the floor.

“Alright, kid. You better get to bed early for ya’ mom tonight. I’ll be here for you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Whitleigh’s heart, among other things were warmed watching the way this mysteriously gentle, yet rough around the edges man had already taken such a liking to her young son. Friends for a single-mother were rare to come by, and she intended somehow to relay her gratitude to Tommy for his blind kindness to the both of them.

 She sat her alarm for 4 a.m., allowing herself 30 minutes extra to peel Cole from underneath his plethora of stuffed friends in his bed, but was taken aback when she found him sitting cross-legged in the floor of his bedroom when she opened his door.

“Cole! What do you think you’re doing?! We don’t play with scissors, do you hear me?” She yanked the ragged blade of her kitchen shears out of his grips, and scolded his disobedient act.

She assessed him thoroughly, searching for any nicks or cuts on his arms or legs, then groaned out when she realized what he had done. A still tagged sweatshirt she had bought him back at Christmas was missing a sleeve, and the other hung on jaggedly by a thread.

“Honey, what did you do, huh?” She sighed, and searched Cole’s explanatory eyes.

“I wanted mine to be like Tommy’s, mommy.”

Cole had abstractly chopped the leaves of his hooded shirt to mock Tommy and his DIY running attire. She wanted to be angry, and she would be internally. But, she couldn’t help but laugh at his clever thinking.

She wet his toothbrush and watched him brush, then double knotted his tennis shoes before stepping out the front door to wait for Tommy. The silken robe tied around her waist covered her braless chest, and the men’s boxer briefs she unconventionally used as pajama bottoms.

Next door, Tommy was readying his post-run protein shake, setting aside some ingredients for a kid-friendly edition, thinking Cole would want his own when they returned. He couldn’t make sense of what he felt for the boy, or the fact that he was feeling anything period. Maybe, he saw flashes of himself in Cole’s fatherless lie? Did he want the kid to have some male in his life that encouraged him, and taught him the way a man should behave, and treat people? Sure, maybe Tommy wasn’t the most equipped man for the job, but he knew not to beat women, or lay hands on children. Which was more than his own father ever bothered to teach him.

He poked a finger through his kitchen blinds, the window that looked directly across the driveway into Whitleigh’s bedroom, and saw some lamp light peeking out behind her darkened curtain, alluding she was awake and readying Cole. He wondered aimlessly if he should extend the invite for her to join he and Cole, but remembered how she often teases him for his ‘meathead’ lifestyle. Tommy knew she appreciated his workout habits more than she let on though. Her sideways good morning glances at him while he did his routine 100 jumps of the rope before his 8 a.m. spar told him so. However well his stupid abs, or bulgy biceps usually helped him reel in the brainless groupies down at the bar he frequented, he knew Whitleigh needed more. His grunts, and sulks wouldn’t be enough to impress her.

He shook himself out of the spiraling abyss of questioning, and almost grabbed a shot glass to smother the thoughts. But, he’d need to be sharp, and responsible with Cole if he wanted to remain in good standing with the beautiful family next door.

He left his side door unlocked behind him, as he walked the minimal steps from his house to the residence next door. Cole was bouncing up and down the steps, spitting impersonations of an airplane, or a tractor maybe, chasing an imaginary object around the yard. His mom sat arms crossed on the stoop, her half-exposed thighs fidgeting with the morning chill. Tommy admired her without the touches of makeup, and with the lingering dark circles of a less than restful night.

“Tommy, hey look! Look at me!” Cole galloped into Tommy’s arms, grinning ear to ear, and pounding his chest.

“I caught the little troublemaker in his room with scissors before I got up morning. He took the liberty of nixing the sleeves from that brand-new sweatshirt. Wanted to look like Tommy, didn’t you, bub?” Whitleigh sarcastically smirked, standing at Tommy’s arrival.

He looked at Cole in his arms, giggling uncontrollably at the boy’s miniature hoodie cut to resemble the one he was also wearing. He became instantly afraid, dazed with pressure even. He hadn’t realized the intense way that Cole had indeed been noting him, and observing his every move. A duty to tow the line, and keep on his toes for the sponge of a child settled hard on his heart.

“You look badass, buddy!”

“Tommy!!” Whitleigh scolded with lightening speed.

“I.. Uh, I mean… You look awesome, bro. Real uh.. real cool. Yeah, that’s what I meant.” Tommy coughed and clambered to bury his little expletive mistake.

“Watch him. Please…” She cocked her head, pleading to him with a crinkled nose. “You listen to Tommy, Cole. And stay right by his side, got it?”

“Yeah, momma. I be good, won’t I Tommy?” Cole yanked on Tommy’s long arm, pulling with all his might to hurry him down the road.

“We’ll be fine. No worries, okay? Be back in a couple hours or so. I’ve got my cell if we need ya’.”

She peered down the empty, slow streets of Saturday until the pair turned the corner out of her sight. Tommy glanced back a couple of times, with Cole following suit to wave at her smiling on the porch. She trusted her son was in good hands, and it was safe to squeeze in a least another hour cat nap before breakfast.

 Her cellphone vibrated and buzzed off the side of her end table next to the couch, awaking her with an incoming call. The lazy slumber passing immediately at the disturbance, as she feared the worst expecting trouble with Cole. Tommy’s named lit up across the touchscreen, and she said ‘hello’ before the call had even connected.

“Incoming. Just wanted to make sure you were awake.” Tommy meekly whispered.

She abruptly stood from her couch, peering out the glass storm door, to see the man shoving his phone down into the slick pocket of his shorts, and Cole’s legs dangling around Tommy’s waist.

Jumping barefoot outside, Tommy lifted a hand to calm her, and slow her down before she woke the snoozing child.

“Shhhh.. Hey hey hey, he’s fine, Whit. He’s fine. He got sleepy about 2 miles in, and said his legs were tired,” he smiled sweetly. “So I just carried him back. He fell asleep about 10 minutes ago, I think. At least that’s when he stopped talking about Power Rangers, so I think that’s when anyways.”

Whitleigh reached forth, opening her arms for Tommy to pass the petite, sleeping mass to her so she could settle him inside. But he shook his head under his hood, and continued towards her house.

“I got ‘em. Just lead the way.”

He walked quietly on her heels down the hallway, barely lit with the yellow glow of the sun’s onset towards Cole’s bedroom. Posters of MMA circuit fighters, and a few baseball stars pinned to white walls, and a nightlight near his bed in the shape of a boxing glove. He imagined it would’ve been a room much like his own had he not had to share the small, attic space with his older brother who cared more about women and cars rather than fighting. On Cole’s nightstand, stained with the wet circle of last night’s glass of water, was a portrait of he and Tommy dressed in matching karate garb, drawn in faded marker.

“Best friends, huh?” Tommy nodded towards the misspelled words on the work of art, catching Whitleigh’s eye as she nestled him under the comforter, kissing his reddened cheek.

“He made it last night,” she answered. “I couldn’t get him into bed until he finished. He was planning to give it to you after the little jog this morning.”

“The kid has good taste in friends. What can I say?”

“I guess so. The verdict is still out.” She winded a hand through the tangled ends of her hair, leaving a tiny crack in the door as they scurried out so she could peep in on him later.

“Well, share that pot of coffee I smell, and I’ll see if I can convince ya’.”

He watched her dainty, painted toes stick to the cool floor as she swayed slowly into the kitchen, and he wafted his shirt to let some cool air onto his perspiring chest. He let his brain simmer on the possibilities of what was hidden prettily under the pink robe that skimmed just above a thin scar on her knee.

“Cream and sugar?” She peeped as the pour of coffee flowed into the bottom of a ceramic mug.

“Nah, black is good.”

Whitleigh served two cups, and tucked her leg underneath her as she sat in the wooden chair across the table from him. She fiddled with the silver chain hanging from her neck, only more attracting Tommy to the fluttering gape of her robe as she moved in her seat.

“Was he good for you? Didn’t give you any trouble or anything?”

“He’s a real good kid, Whitleigh. Honest. You done a real good job wit’ him.”

His lips squished on the rim of the cup as he slurped the bitter brew, and she felt her center ignite.

“Thanks, Tommy. It doesn’t hurt that I’ve got somebody like you around to be an example to him either…”

Her lashes cast a fluttering, unmeasurably lengthy shadow over the rim of her lower lid onto her cheek, and Tommy had to situate his visibly growing attraction to her. The strength and steady head she displayed in raising her son alone, the way she held her composure day in, & day out with work and managing a household. What wasn’t to like? The heavy swell of her bosom, and the way her smile seemed to be effortlessly seductive no matter the occasion didn’t hurt matters.

“Trust me… My shit isn’t together even half of what yours is. But, I like the kid, so I’ll help any way you need me. I kinda like hangin’ around you two.”

Tommy didn’t want her to mistake his comments as a come on, but the other half of his shifty brain hoped she would, and maybe he’d get some clarity on how she felt towards him. He couldn’t handle the subtle exchanges, and cheeky stealing looks. Tommy wasn’t the type who played well at cat & mouse, unless he was standing in the cage toying with his next victim.

Neither had really noticed how many wordless seconds had ticked by until the rhythmic drip of the kitchen faucet splashed towards the drain, shaking them to reality. Tommy gulped, scratching his forearm nervously and looked around the room pointlessly, while Whitleigh raised to tend to the leak. She shook the handle, jiggled the spout, and Tommy heard her murmur a ‘piece of shit’ under her breath. He scooted the chair from under him, and rounded the table sitting his empty glass there, to take her side.

“I can fix that, if you want. Not a problem at all.”

He meant to stand to next to her and estimate the appliance issue, but instead he settled his feet behind hers on the kitchen mat, and extended around under her arm. He saw the hairs on Whitleigh’s arm raise, and his exhales ensued goosebumps where her shoulder met her neck. Her fruity scent tickled his nostrils, and a chill rolled up his spine as the sweet aroma nearly instigated a sneeze. She slowly set free the tension his closeness brought to her bones, and she whimpered as he pushed the loose crotch of his pants into the center of her cheeks.

“…..it’s….it’s fine. Just a little shake of the handle usually…usually takes care of it.” She choked, and heaved a struggling breath. Her head fell weightless to his shoulder, and she white knuckle gripped the counters edge to squeeze out some of the pent-up need.

One of his broad, promiscuous hands pulled on the ribbon of her robe, while the other probed up the back of her thigh, tickling the curve of her round ass with calloused, worked fingers. Whitleigh’s nipples poked from the confines of her t-shirt and Tommy envisioned the pink bulbs wet between his teeth.

“Let me tend to some other things around here that need seein’ to then, hm?” He suckled on her earlobe, the gold bulbs of her earrings clanging gently against his teeth.

Her shutter sent the bathrobe cascading from her arms to topple gracefully around their feet. Once Tommy’s hands got a feeling of her soft skin against his, his hunger became irrepressible. He tugged at her legs, rushing her to climb his body. Their lips crashed into each other, their desire screaming at the introduction. Tommy reached his hands into her hair, massaging into her scalp, and his tongue took note and moved seductively against hers. Her mewls of his name, and the breath tossed from her mouth into his enticed Tommy to furthermore explore her every crevice.

“Quiet, Tommy. We have to be quiet. Cole…”

He nodded, lowering her back to the white, chipped tabletop. Her toes curled as her licked up her leg, leaving imprints of his crooked bite on the fleshly meat of her inner thighs. He pulled away to push up the hem of her shirt, and her eyes peeled shut with reluctancy.

“Woah, woah. Hey, whatsa matter, Whitleigh. Talk to me, babe.” He froze, careful not to further intrude if he had done so.

“Nothing. It’s.. I’m fine. Really. Keep going.” She answered surely, but the reluctancy still hid in her underlying tremble of her voice.

He chewed his lips, and carefully continued to peel back her remaining attire. He pulled loose the fabric, and she raised herself to assist him in the undressing. Her hands coyly slid to cover a scar drawn into the lower of her belly, and Tommy’s eyes followed whatever shame she felt there was to hide. He kissed tenderly on her fingers, and eased back her hands to lay behind her head.

“This what you’re so worried about?” He curiously sketched over the marking.

“I’m sure most women you get with don’t have ugly battle scars from childbirth, Tommy…”

He blinked repeatedly, exaggerating his look of taken aback confusion, and almost offence. His palms leaned flat on the table, carrying his weight as he dangled above her.

“First off, you ain’t just somebody I wanna ‘get with’, Whit. Second, don’t ever be ashamed. This,” he pointed. “This scar gave you that badass little boy in there sleepin’. The one that you’re doin’ a damn good job of raisin’, too. Don’t ever feel like you gotta hide that wit’ me. Okay?”

Whitleigh blushed, and her fitful heartbeats bringing a swell of reassurance over her body. To hear that Tommy hadn’t intended on her being just the bed buddy next door eased her worries. She saw potential in Tommy, and whatever this could turn into with him, as well.

She nodded her head, smiling and sighing a loud release of the worrisome pressure she’d been choking on moments ago. Once the exquisite man gathered she had relaxed once more, he began petting over the soft, feminine curves of her body’s edges. His licked his pouting mouth, and journeyed upward to the round handful of her breasts, leaving his hands to work down below. He moaned, stroking the wet patch that stained the warm center of her panties and Whitleigh nearly jolted from the table when his tongue devoured the sensitive line of her ribcage.

Tommy hooked his fingers into the band of her shorts, cheekily popping the elastic before tugging them down her tanned legs.

“I like these, by the way. They look much sexier on you than me..”

He dropped his own shorts, the clunk of his phone in the pocket hitting the floor,  revealing a nearly matching pair of his own boxer briefs. Only his, screaming at the seams trying to trap the large member he was stroking beneath them.

Without so much as a hint of warning, Tommy clutched the backside of her bended knees, and drew her forth toward him. Her feet now weightlessly suspended over the tables edge. Glittering rays of sunlight illuminated through the curtains, catching the speckles of green hiding in the eyes she stared hungrily into. The demanding, heated cosmic pull his body exuded excited Whitleigh more than any desire she had ever known for a man. She withheld a giggle, knowing breakfast every morning seated at this now tarnished kitchen table would never be the same.

Anxious for a quick taste of her pink folds, Tommy kneeled face-to-face with his warm breakfast. Fuck that gritty, bland protein shake he had in the blender at his own house, he thought. Whitleigh was more his flavor. Her hips bucked seductively when the vicious laps of his tongue separated her lips to prime her with another layer of wetness. Delight and orgasm poked her nauseous belly like a prodding finger. She grimaced, but welcomed every nibble of his lips over her blossoming bulb.

“Upstairs, Tommy… let’s go upstairs.” The volume of her needful pants echoed off the hollow ceilings, and she feared their elicit noises would stumble upon the ears of her hopefully sleeping son just down the hall. It took all her mighty efforts to piece together a sentence amongst Tommy’s feasting murmurs smashed between her thighs. The hum, and suckling sounds of him devouring her sopping mound hypnotized her wholly. His touch would be burned there at the most private corner of her body forever.

“I can’t make it that far, Whitleigh baby. I gotta have you. Now. Here, bite down on this to keep quiet.” Tommy tossed her the tee he had discarded, and chuckled. Relishing in the fact that he had her body running on amped speed. She nearly lost all control when he caught a stray trickle of her juices escaping from the side of his mouth with the tip of his thumb, and sucked it dry.

He clung to his thick erection, and lead himself to her steaming entrance, teasing her with slow in and outs. He felt her deep, and so satisfyingly warm squeezes twitch around him, already milking forth his first release with a female in months. He hadn’t really had time for a hookup lately, and thinking about the filth that he typically attracted only made want to down capsize a bottle of narcotics.  

The angsty thoughts that had always swam in his mind suddenly fled when he admired Whitleigh’s blissfully reddened cheeks, and rosy, swollen lips gaped open with the sound of his name. She was reeling him in, damning his demons back to the hell they came from, and shocking his soul back to life, and she had no idea.

He gripped her forcefully by the hips to secure a steady rhythm so her breasts would continue that perfectly timed, spellbinding bounce. He didn’t want to split her painfully in two, but the faster he lunged inside her, the more he could feel the rough flickerings of a hard onslaught approaching.

“More. More.” She read his mind with expert timing. “More!”

The legs of her antique table scuffed and creaked against the floor below them, and Whitleigh wondered whether the weathered wood was a match for Tommy Conlon. She knew Cole would be stirring soon, but she needed to feel this way, in this moment with Tommy, for hours before it would ever be enough. He brushed, and touched her lips with his fingers, grazing her cheeks thoughtfully. His face nuzzled the tips of her nipples, and his lashes tickled them to an even higher peak while his two-day old scruff chapped her sensitive skin. Whitleigh wanted to feel the sweat of his hard-work fall from his perspiring brow and leave his scent on her like a dirty secret.

She hinted sparks flying inside her belly, instigating the release ready to reach the surface. Every raw, barely noticeable taste of delicious pain that came with his every lunge kidnapped her further towards the explosion of orgasm. A pulsating vein in Tommy’s neck protruded from his straining, broad neck and she sensed he was holding back his own ending for her sake.

“Tommy, I’m close. Really… really close.” She whispered, nearly biting her own tongue between gnashed teeth.

He closed his eyes, his back now standing straight to give her a hearty, heavenly view of his tattooed pecks, and insultingly large shoulders. His harsh sucks of air, and vice-grip squeezes on the bone of her hips gave her the push she needed to climb the summit. Using the shirt she still held onto, Whitleigh quickly shoved the cotton between her jaws to absorb her curdling screams. Her eyes watered beneath sealed lids, tears dripping from the corners, and Tommy covered his own mouth muffling what was the most beautiful portrayal of climax she had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

“Now, I already won Cole over, we know. So, what’s that verdict you were talking about earlier, huh?” Tommy suggested.

Hoping not to offend him with her abrupt dismissal, and nixing of post-cuddle, she stole a fast kiss from him as she hopped from the table to dress. He rubbed over her bare backside once more before she stepped into her bottoms, then shooed her down the hall, understanding the importance of her motherly duties. He speedily decked himself in his own shed clothes, and placed the kitchen back to it’s original tidy state before the observant young boy came for his breakfast.

Whitleigh came leisurely down the hall moments later, holding the hand of a slightly disorientated blonde boy who smiled ear-to-ear once realizing his new best friend Tommy was seated at his kitchen table. He climbed into the empty chair next to Tommy where his booster seat waited, eager to chat all about the things they had seen while on their morning stroll. Whitleigh stirred the batter of chocolate chip pancakes near the stove, stealing smiley glances at Tommy when Cole was caught up in one of his stories.

 As Tommy watched the wild-eyed kid stutter and sling his busy hands throughout the air, pretending his fork was a spaceship. All the while also falling in love with the big-hearted, slightly bashful, head-spinningly beautiful woman across the room. He had never known true family in his entire life. But silently observing the lazy comfort he felt of that Saturday morning with Cole, and Whitleigh, he decided it was worth the wait.

  TAGS: @eap1935 @torialeysha

[writingjusttowrite8]

Golden (Chapter Four)

Hi friends! I probs sound like a broken record when I say this, but thank you so much to all those who have liked and reblogged these post and given kudos! And a SUPER HUGE thank you to those who’ve commented! I’ve gotten some people who want to be tagged in this, so I’ve started a tag list! If you want to be tagged, just let me know and I’ll add you. Thanks again loves!

P.S.: This is a secondary blog, so whenever I reply to comments on here it’ll pop up as coming from my main one (@galvanator). I’m not really sure how to adjust it and tumblr’s FAQ is, at best, unhelpful. I’m a technologically challenged millennial, so, from the bottom of my heart, my bad. 

You can also read this on AO3!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

-

I had turned in my paper the following day and had been about to avoid going into his office. Mrs. Peters made some comment of how it was ‘good Mr. Laufeyson finally had a student to challenge him,’ but I’d mostly ignored her. After that, I really hadn’t had much to deal with him. I did the readings, took the quizzes, and kept my distance. It did make my heart soar just a tiny bit, when I got my paper back with a large 99 written at the top, and a note that read ‘Always room for improvement, but it is nearing perfection’. I wanted to forget about everything that had happened prior to us in class, but it was so difficult. More than once, a tall, dark, black-haired stranger invade my dreams and filled me with a lust my hand couldn’t provide for my body. I wanted to forget how his skin felt against me, about how perfectly our bodies collided, but my mind didn’t let me. 

Professor Laufeyson’s class would have most certainly been my favorite if we hadn’t met previously. He was so articulate and well-informed; he made myself and every student get caught up in every word. It didn’t hurt that he looked the way he did. His wardrobe consisted solely of clothing that fit him to perfection. His tall frame was seemingly thin, but he was so strong and hard. I really couldn’t blame any of the other women who had a crush on him; after all, I’d probably have had one too. 

I did my best to be as little noticeable in his class as possible; only arrived exactly on time, turned in all that I needed to turn in, and left promptly as class ended. Everything I finished early, I turned into Mrs. Peters, and narrowly avoided seeing Professor Laufeyson whenever I could. I had nearly memorized his schedule so that I wouldn’t run into him; unfortunately, that meant running into Professor Jinks quite frequently. His leering eyes always made my skin crawl. I could never quite shake the way Loki had warned me about him on my first day. He usually lost interest in my once I was past him, or another girl with better cleavage walked past. But there were instances in which I wasn’t so lucky. 

“You know, dear,” Mrs. Peters started, “Professor Laufeyson will be in shortly. Why don’t you just wait for him and you can give your paper in person. You miss him so frequently, I’m afraid he’s not giving you the proper respect a star pupil like yourself should be given.” A small, hysterical laugh escaped my lips at the irony of her words. 

“Trust me, Mrs. Peters, Professor Laufeyson is giving me the exact amount of respect I require.” I said. She narrowed her eyes at me, not fully understanding what I meant. Luckily (or unluckily), we were interrupted by the loud, obnoxious voice that could only belong to one man; Professor Jinks. 

“My goodness, you come to see Laufeyson so often I’d say you had a crush on him,” Jinks said while walking over to Mrs. Peters and I. I was stunned into silence, my cheeks immediately turning beat red. As it turns our, Mrs. Peters couldn’t stand him either. 

“Professor! You really are too much! Mrs. Alavan is here for academic purposes only. Something you should strive to do as well,” Her condescending tone made me feel a bit better. Jinks merely rolled his eyes, and leaned against the counter where I was standing, effectively blocking me in.

“You know if you really wanted to stand out in Laufeyson’s class, I could tutor you. I offer private tutoring sessions to those… outstanding students,” Jink’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, as they trailed down to my chest.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need tutoring,” I said, tugging my books close and crossing my arms across my chest. Jinks scoffed.

“My tutoring could be of a great service to you; you sure you want to turn that down?” He stepped closer to me and I continued to back up. His intimidating glare made it hard to figure out the right thing to say, so I struggled with words for a moment. But then my savior appeared.

“If anything, Mrs. Alavan could give you some tutoring lessons,” Loki said, standing across the office. I let out a deep breath I wasn’t aware I was holding. Jinks turned to acknowledge Loki, then snapped it back towards me.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” Jinks said, finally stepping away. I took my opportunity to quickly walk out of the office, but not without giving Loki a quick nod in thanks. I saw the recognition in his eyes, as well as something else…

It looked like rage.

Since I couldn’t forget, I did the second best thing; avoid. I ended up getting an internship at a publishing company because my classes weren’t filling up enough of my time. I worked, and wrote, and refused to go out with Kate. I didn’t need her abandoning me again, and I didn’t feel like explaining what was so disastrous about last time. Three weeks since I’d gone to his office, had passed, and I was actively minding my own business. Kate, however, didn’t like how filled my schedule was and was growing tired of me refusing to spend time with her. 

“Oh, for god’s sake, Aurelia, its one measly Friday night! You’re literally the smartest person I’ve ever met, going out for 5 hours isn’t going to lower your IQ!” She pleaded through the phone. I sighed deeply, and contemplated just hanging up. 

“I’ve been though this; my work is the most important thing to me. Just because you enjoy going out every night doesn’t mean that I do. I like being able to get ahead in my school work, especially since I’ll be starting my internship soon!” I told her. She whined through the phone. “And I really don’t see how it matters if I go with you or not. Literally every time we’ve gone out together, even back in the states, you found a guy within 5 minutes of being in a bar. You’ll just ditch me anyways,” I said.

“That not true! Well… not entirely. Last time we went you, I very clearly remember you winding up with a handsome stranger who, quite literally, fucked you into oblivion,” She said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. I cringed, my mind flashing back to that night. “I know you’ve thrown yourself into your work to avoid thinking about him, but I have a much better idea than that,” She taunted.

“Continue…” I egged her on. At this point I’d accept nearly any opportunity to get my mind off Loki.

“Come out with me tonight and find a new guy! The best way to get over a man is to be reminded that there are so many others to choose from! If you’re able to find another handsome stranger to rock your world tonight, I guarantee that you’ll forget all about Mr. Tall, dark, and insatiable,” She taunted. Highly unlikely, but I understood her reasoning. I had been left… unfulfilled for a month now. It might be nice to fuck my way out of the hole Loki created. 

“Fine,” I heard Kate squeal when I spoke, “BUT, we can’t go to the same place. I don’t want to run into him once more.”

“Oh, I’m way ahead of you. Theres a bar a few block away from there, that’s a little more catered to students. I’m sure you’ll be able to find exactly what you need there,” She insisted.

I smiled to myself. This is a good thing; in a few hours, Loki will be old news. 

-

A slight knock on the door alerted Loki that there was a presence in his doorway. He looked up from his papers seeing Jinks in the doorway with an evil glint in his eyes. Loki checked his watch, seeing that it was just past 5:30. 

“Plans tonight, Laufeyson?” He asked.

“Not currently. I’d imagine you’re here to change that,” Loki said, leaning back in his seat. Jinks came in, looking around at some of the loose papers on the usually pristine desk.

“A couple of us are going out to celebrate the first month ending. You’ll join us, won’t you?” Jinks framed his words as a question, but Loki knew he wasn’t working his way out of this one. 

But, he had to at least give it a shot.

“The end of the first month means the beginning of exam season. I need to prepare a bit. I’m not sure its the right time to be going out,” He countered. 

“Oh, come on!” Jinks said, not persuaded by Loki’s words. “You’re the most prepared lad in all of Great Britain, surely you can afford one night of fun? All of the fun ones are going, even Candice from history, and she’s always had eyes for you…” Jinks leered. Gross, Loki thought, Candice had eyes for anything with a pulse. Loki huffed for a moment, trying to think of a good excuse before something dawned on him.

“Where would we be going?” He asked Jinks. He seemed to light up at the question, sensing he was getting closer to his goal.

“Sullivans, uptown. You’ve been there?” Jinks ask’s Loki. The name was familiar, but what really mattered is that it wasn’t where he’d met Aurelia. The chance of him running into her again would have prompted a much harsher rejection.

“Fine, but I’ve got to go home to change,” He said, standing up to put on his coat. Jinks slapped his hands together.

“Fantastic! I send you the address and you can meet us there. This will be fun! Even us esteemed professors need a night for ourselves,” He leered in the door way, with a facial expression Loki could only describe as disturbing.

Loki quickly made for his house, not really needing to change clothes, he just wanted a minute to himself. Thinking of Aurelia always threw him off, and he needed a minute to shake the thoughts out of her. But his idea to go home to get her out of his mind probably wasn’t the best plan of action. He’d washed his sheets 4 times since she was there, but every night, without fail, he’d swear he smelled her scent. It was engrained in his head; her smell, her eyes, how she’d exhaled when he’d touch her, like she was burning without his touch. It was too much to forget; not that Loki had done a good job of attempting that. He’d look at other women, and instantly compare her to Aurelia. He’d accidentally brush against a girl and sensed how different her warmth was from Aurelia. Everything reminded him of her, and it was eating at him. Her tiny, black-lace underwear were hidden in the pages of a hollowed out book he use to store sweets in as a child. They were a sweet in their own right, just a different context behind it.

Loki had built up a catalogue of things he regretted in his life, but the morning he left Aurelia was the one that stood out most. He hadn’t been able to sleep, but rather, watched her intently after their night together. Her dark hair fanned out across the pillow, her sweet lips parted slightly, how her hand was so tightly gripped with his; all of these thoughts were burned into his mind. It wasn’t until the early morning he was able even to look away from her. He didn’t have a huge stock in his kitchen, so he didn’t think there would be any harm in stepping out for a few minutes to go pick something up. It was only when he returned to his empty house, her scent already infused in his entryway, he realized what a mistake he’d made. That evening he’d even gone back to the same bar to see if he could find her, but after no sightings and three over-zealous women, he’d left.

Loki didn’t want to feel this way; he hadn’t even wanted to go home with somebody that night. But when he caught her gaze, something drew him in. It was like a rubber band pulled him to her until the collided, making an irreversible mark in his heart. That same rubber band that pulled them together, snapped from the tension and hit him right in the face the day he saw her in class. She was looking down, obviously panicking, but her unmistakable tendrils of hair had given her away. To every other student, he was just taking stock of who was in his class, but the slight clinching of his fist and deep swallow in his throat almost gave him away. 

He knew when he saw Aurelia in class that whatever pull he was experiencing was would need to be squandered, but it wasn’t completely gone. Despite him not wanting to go out, Loki couldn’t help but think this was a good way to finally remove whatever tug Aurelia had on him.

-

My short, velvet skirt didn’t provide a ton of warmth for my legs as the cool wind hit my body. London is such a beautiful place, but its temperature left a lot for a native-Floridan to be desired. Kate walked briskly, her long legs forcing my short ones to nearly run. I looked around at the people standing near the bar and noticed, pleasantly, that this crowd was much more college-friendly. Despite her promising not to abandon me again (I made her recite the mantra ‘I will not abandon you’ in the cab over here), we weren’t two steps inside until she saw someone familiar and ran to the other side of the bar. Great.

I found myself in an uneasy and familiar situation one again and vowed to myself that this was the last time I accompanied Kate to a bar. I noticed some girls that I vaguely recognized in a few of my classes by the bar, and decided that standing near them was better than standing on the wall by myself. Another girl who was in a situation similar to myself, was also seated at the bar, and looked at me curiously when I ordered a drink.

“You’re in Professor Laufeyson’s class too, aren’t you?” She asked, slurring a bit. I nodded my head, taking my drink from the bartender. She stuck out her hand and I shook it.

“Daisy McGee,” She said.

“Aurelia Alavan,” I told her. 

“Where are you from?” She asked, clearly recognizing my accent. 

“Near Miami, but I go to school at NYU. I’m just doing a semester over here,” I explained. She nodded. “What about you?” I asked.

“Near Dublin. Got a nice scholarship to come over here, so…” She shrugged her shoulders and I laughed a bit. “How are you doing in his class?” She asked.

“Not bad; he’s a little stingy on grades though. Gave me a 99 on the first paper because there’s ‘always room for improvement’.” I told her. She looked at me with wide eyes.

“You’re actually able to pay attention? Good god, more power to you. Every time he opens his mouth all I want to do confess my love to him,” She said, resting her head on her hand and looking away from me. I laugh a little bit; partially out of her words, partially out of how ridiculous the situation was. “Even now, there are plenty of eligible bachelors here, but I can only focus on him…” She said, sighing. I looked at her confused.

“What do you mean?” I asked. She pointed into the direction she was looking, and lo-and-behold, Loki was there. His sharp facial features pressed into a stoic expression while he watched the man I’d come to know as Jinks. Jinks was clearly drunk and hanging on the arm of a fake-looking woman, but Loki seemed to be unimpressed. I, on the other hand, was fuming. ‘Would it ease your worries if I told you that I don’t often do this as well?’ his voice rang so clear in my mind from that night. I believed him! Even after everything, I believed that this wasn’t a normal occurrence and that he wasn’t some mid-thirties perv who uses his prowess to influence young women. 

I felt stupid, humiliated, and entirely heart-broken. There was something very comforting about the fact that I was the exception, and now… I felt tears clouding my eyes and my skin burn bright red. Daisy had said something to me, but I was too wrapped up in my furry to notice. It wasn’t until his bight blue eyes cast themselves in my direction, that I felt my body unfreeze. His expression faltered only slightly, but his eyes didn’t leave mine, and I didn’t have the heart to turn away. Finally, I was able to hear over the blood pounding in my ears to see what Daisy had to say.

“Those eyes could peer into my soul. Isn’t he charming?” She said.

“Yeah,” I hopped off the stool, grabbing my bag, “A real charming son-of-a-bitch.” Maybe if Loki hadn’t been captivating her, she would have noticed me stomping off, but thankfully she was too enamored with looking at him. I tried to navigate my way through the still-growing crowd, but a large, pale hand grabbed my waist and began pulling me in a different direction. I turned back to yell at whoever it was, but when I saw his face, my voice fell silent. He gripped me a little tighter when I stopped fighting him, and very delicately pulled me through a door near the back. The cold air of the outside hit my over-heated skin like a ton of bricks. I turned to face the wall to collect my thoughts and make sure we were alone before tearing into him.

“Aurelia,” he started, but I cut him off.

“How dare you! How dare you tell me you don’t do this often! You’re even worse than that Jinks character; at least he has the decency to wear his creepiness on his sleeve. You hide behind that cool exterior and pretend to be one of the good guys, but all you really are is some sleaze!” I huffed. My fist were balled up at my sides and I was stomping around, trying not to look directly at Loki. His firm hands grasped my shoulders, forcing me to stop and take a breath. His eyes were wide and his mouth was set in a firm line. “What!” I yelled at him. 

“Jinks made me come; I didn’t want to. And the only reason I allowed him to choose this place is because I couldn’t risk seeing you again at the other bar. I don’t come here, not to places with students. I would never do anything to make you feel uncomfortable, you must know that,” His piercing blue eyes bore directly into mine.

“You… came here to avoid me? Ha…” I said, somewhat hysterically. “I came here to avoid you,” He finally let me go and I slacked against the brick wall. 

“We really are a pair, aren’t we?” He breathed, mimicking my actions. I slid against the wall until I was seated on the ground, and he followed me as well. 

“Why can’t we seem to stay away from each other?” I asked. I didn’t know if I was asking him, or just the universe in general. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t…” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it rang in my ears.

“No…” I got up and started pacing again, trying to hold back tears and not let him see the one’s that had already fallen. “You can’t say that to me! You hurt me so much; letting me wake up alone like that! I thought it would be easy to just have fun and not get attached, but you woke something in me that just won’t go away now! You left me, Loki, you’re the one-“

“I didn’t leave you!” He yelled. I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him. He stalked over to me and gently slid on large hand on my cheek. “I didn’t leave you, not like that. I wen’t to get breakfast and when I came back, you were gone. I figured you didn’t feel what I felt that night and just left. I wanted to come back and ravish you for the rest of the day and take you on a proper date that night, but you were gone! I didn’t want you to go, I never would have left if I thought you’d taken it as a sign to leave,” his usually strong voice was pleading and soft. 

I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t resist gently pressing my lips to his. He felt so cool and soft, making my beat red skin tingle at the contact. It was a gentle, momentary kiss, but it felt like hours. When I realized what I’d done, I tensed up and quickly broke away. His eyes were closed, and his lips were slightly parted, and he slowly opened up his eyes to me. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done-“ His lips were back on mine, but this time it was feverish. His mouth was hungrily devouring mine, while his hands went to grip me too him. I clawed back at him, pulling him as close to me as possible. He pushed us against a wall and hiked up my leg around his hip. His tongue dove into my mouth and tangled with mine. My arms wrapped around his neck and my hands played with his soft hair. After a while of an intense make out session, he pulled back and rested his forehead on mine, catching his breath. 

“Give me one more night with you… please” He said quietly, letting his warm breath fan across my face.

“Yes.”

-

Forewarning for the next chapter... prepare for Da Smut™.

Tag List:

@thevixeniris @lovinghiddlestom

[twdmusicboxmystery]

8x04: Details, Odds, and Ends

Hey Everyone! I said on Monday I wouldn't do a details post, because most of the details I saw I put in my original Analysis post. Buuuuttttt...my FB peeps, as usual, are geniuses and caught things I missed. So I'm going to talk about a few details they picked up on and then some odds and ends that I think are important to note after this episode. 

Details:

Remember how I said Carol asking Ezekiel if he's okay mirrors a convo Bethyl had? @getkath pointed out that Richonne also had it in 4x16. So each of our power couples have had that convo, and in each of these three cases it was before the romance actually went canon. Just saying.

From M-Nonny:

When Carol is in the building, she's listening to the Saviors argue. One of them is angry that the others aren't moving fast enough. Another says, "We're almost done. Jesus!" Yeah, how did I miss that one? Daryl's line: "Almost done." Let's hope and pray that means we're almost there! 

Then there's the "Jesus" thrown in, which is curse word, but still. AND they're loading weapons for the war. The weapons Rick and Daryl were searching for when they discovered Gracie. Kind of interesting. 

There are a lot of 3s around Carol and having specifically to do with the weapons/ammo. One of the saviors says "There's another THREE up at the Sanctuary, and then some." He says that while he loads the ammo into a hatchback car. So he's putting it in the trunk. 3 in the trunk? Perhaps it could be symbolic for Beth being at the Sanctuary? Carol tells the Saviors hiding behind the truck that they must only have 3 or 4 rounds left. 

Gunther says to Ezekiel, "You took you're shot. It's over." Callback to Coda, after someone took a shot that hit Beth, Officer Shepherd said, "It's over." Very interesting. I really like that connection!

Carol has an A on her paintball gear. 

@bluesandbeth pointed out that, with the line, "There's another three up at the Sanctuary, and then some," the "and then some" sticks out. Why add that? It really doesn't add any meaning to the sentence. Is there three, or more than that? Feels like it's hinting at something, but hard to say what. 

Abraham said something similar in S6. "Rick knows every fine grain of said shit, and then some." Makes sense when Abraham says it, but not so much when the Savior in 8x04 says it. If it's meant to be a callback to Abraham, why? Of course that was said in the finale of S5, and Abraham was a major Beth proxy. Just saying. 

@wdway caught that when Ezekiel talks to the crowd, Jerry is eating an apple in the background. (Apple theory). And guys, I gotta say, something is up with Jerry and Beth symbolism. Not sure what it means yet, but I'll illustrate. First there's this apple. And this is the second time we've seen this. The first time was in 7x16 when Aaron handed Jerry an apple after the battle. Aaron is a sometime proxy for Beth, but we can also clearly see a 76.  Episode 76 of the series is Heads Up. You know, the one where Glenn is revealed to be alive, and his dumpster death was a fake out? Makes me think Jerry will have something to do with Beth's reveal, but not sure what yet. I'll come back to Jerry. 

Remember the red drum of poison? I missed some things about it. 

@wdway noticed there's a diamond on it. Remember that Beth is the queen of diamonds (X). There's also an upside down 5 on it. (Think S5). But this is a super-cool connection. Remember that at Grady, when Beth and Dawn talk, they sit on red containers and there are lots of chemicals around them? I believe Beth was even mixing chemicals (probably for cleaning) when Dawn walked in.

Maybe we could even tie this to her doing the mopping? So they showed us all these chemicals at Grady, and now we're at a defunct chemical factory? That simply HAS to mean something. 

@wdway also made the excellent point that we see the tunnel, which is FG's title card, right? It looks all pretty and tranquil. But on closer inspection, there's poison in the water and things really aren't all that tranquil. In other words, things aren't really what they seem. 

You could say that about Grady too. Granted, pretty much from the second Dawn opened her mouth, we wanted to punch her in the face, but on the surface, it's a working hospital that saves people. But when you look closer, there were a lot of shady things going on there. Not such a great place after all. Kind of like this tunnel.

And of course we could apply that to Beth's "death" as well. Even the dutch camera angles are used in filming to show that not everything is as it seems. (X)

I said I’d come back to Jerry. I didn’t do a TTD post this week because I really didn’t see much TD stuff in the episode. There was one major thing I missed, though. They mentioned randomly that Jerry/Cooper Andrews has a wonderful singing voice.

Now, TD tends to pounce on anything musical, but this wasn’t about Beth and it didn’t really occur to me to read into it. But guess what? Just before bringing this up, Chris Hardwick said to Jerry (Cooper was on via satellite) that he’d probably be the last man standing. Seriously? That’s what Beth said to Daryl. And then directly after that they started talking about his lovely singing voice. (Which btw @Brynn_81 (IG) confirmed. She met him and heard him sing.)

See what I mean about Jerry maybe being involved in Beth’s return somehow? No idea how yet. Just saying that’s twice in this episode that I’m side-eyeing something around him. I was also thinking that that ax of his (which he lost this episode) is kind of reminiscent of something a woodsman or huntsman would use. And that character also figures in the Snow White legend. Thoughts?

I think that's it for details, but they give me hope!

Now for odds and ends:

I also wanted to talk about this: 

It's Melissa McBride's tweet from Sunday. (Thanks to @katkhaos for bringing it to my attention.) I've talked about the "tomorrow" theme before, so this immediately caught my FB group's eye. The tweet doesn't make tons of sense, and we're not sure what it means, but it's yet another thing that points to a shift coming between episodes 4 and 5. Gimple said after ep 4, things would get "acoustic." Let's hope that means what we're hoping for. 

Now, I'm not saying this Tweet has anything to do with Beth. But it suggests something big during or after this episode. And what happened with Carzekiel here? Well, Ezekiel is obviously going through some stuff, and as I said on Monday, this may lead to Carol leading for a bit. All I'm saying is that "tomorrow" seems to be coming, and that gives me hope. Can't wait to see how this all plays out. 

Finally, my good friend @brynn_81 (IG) posted this yesterday:

Just made my day, so with her permission, I thought I'd share! 

Also wanted to add that last night, Amber Dawn Fox (who played Officer Bello at Grady) followed me on Twitter. 

I don’t think it really had much to do with me. My friend @sparklepoodles tweeted that we needed Grady nation back on the show. Not only did Amber Dawn Fox retweet that, I think she just followed those who liked it, which I did. But I’m taking as a good sign that the Grady actors are still liking and following and retreating those who say they hope to see Grady on the show again, rather than denying that will happen.

Finally, I just wanted to reiterate one more time that there’s no reason to give up hope just because episode 4 wasn’t what we hoped it was. I know a lot of people are disappointed. You’re not alone. And a lot of that is my fault because I was gunning for episode 4. I was disappointed too. But remember that things are supposed to get acoustic AFTER episode 4, according to Gimple. And we have tons of things to hope for still.

I’ll put my thoughts together about the MSF and hopefully post them on Friday. Hopefully that will help. 

@thegloriouscollectorlady was talking about this in our group last night, and I heartily agree with everything she said. They’ve opened lots of new story lines this season (Gracie, for example). Until we see where it’s going, I’m not giving up hope. 

Daryl’s arc hasn’t been resolved. Quite the opposite. He’s in a worse place than he’s been since he was with Beth in S4. Until he either dies or something else restores his faith and humanity to him, I’m not giving up hope. 

Gimple said Daryl will find love. (Another reason among MANY to rest easy that he’s not dying yet.) Until he does, I’m not giving up hope. 

Many of you have asked about the logo being white, which I still believe is a resurrection thing. I simply don’t believe they would do such a huge symbol for one measly resurrection (Morales) that last all of 5 minutes. 

In fact, we have proof that they wouldn’t. If that were the case, we would have seen it when Sam from 4a showed up at Terminus. We didn’t. So until I see the rest of the season and figure out what this was all about, I’m not giving up hope.

And if none of that works for ya, just go back to our core arguments that still haven’t been resolved. The opening credits flash, which contains what we’re pretty sure is Daryl’s arm. No way it’s a general representation of Grady. The dialogue foreshadows, which we’ve proved over and over again are thing. “I am strong.” “I’m getting out. Just like Noah.” I was thinking about Sasha last night and her final arc. Remember that in 5x10, with the sunrise, Maggie told her, “you’re gonna make it. We both will.”

Did that mean Sasha would never die? Obviously not. But she wasn’t dying right then. She survived another 2.5 seasons, and when she did die, we saw the end of her arc with the same sunset. Nothing remotely like that happened with Beth after she proclaimed that she, too, would survive. There were four element that were part of that sunrise in 5x10. Sasha, Maggie, Aaron (who represents Alexandria at large) and the music box. Only one of those arcs, Sasha’s has ended. The other three are still going.

And then there’s Morgan. Remember the Sugar Plum Fairy song. I’ll be watching Morgan closely when we see him again. I don’t think that will be this episode, so yet another reason not to give up hope yet. What if we don’t see him until the MSF? That would mirror his appearance after Coda. Again, I’ll put up thoughts/predictions about the MSF in a few days.

My point is that I don’t blame people for being disappointed. I was too. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to give up. Not remotely.

That's it for today, peeps. Hope everyone is having a great week!

Special thanks to the peeps named above and the rest of my FB group for their insights.

[party-with-books]

85 Questions Tag

Yowza that’s a lot! 

I’m posting this so incredibly late but still thanks for the tag @theragamuffininitiative! :))

Rules: Answer the questions and tag whoever you want (originally 20 people but like… that’s also a lot)

The last: 1. drink: RC (Royal Crown soda) 2. phone call: Mother dearest 3. text message: Best friend 4. song: “Fire” by BTS  5. time you cried: About a week or two ago, had a very intense conversation with The Dad. 

Have you ever: 6. dated someone twice: I’ve never dated before soooo…nope.  7. kissed someone and regretted it: See question #6. :P 8. been cheated on: And yet another no. 9. lost someone special: Yes, my grandpa.  10. been depressed: I think we all have been at some point in time. So yes. 11. gotten drunk and thrown up: I don’t drink so that’s another solid no. 

Favorite colors: 12. Purple  13. Pine/Spruce Green 14. Jade 15: Wine purple  16: Dark crimson red

In the last year have you: 17. laughed until you cried: Oh yes! 18. found out someone was talking about you: Not to my knowledge.  19. met someone who changed you: I don’t believe so… 20. found out who your friends are: Yes? 21. kissed someone on your facebook list: That’d be a no (people have FB lists for kissing someone??). 22. made friends: Yes indeed.  23. fallen out of love: I’ve never fallen IN love, but i have crushed on a guy before and eventually gotten over it (truth be told i think i’m scared of falling in love, yet it’s still something i wish for).

General: 25. what did you do for your last birthday: Went ice skating with my close friends and siblings! 26. how many of your facebook friends do you know in real life: All of them. 27. do you have any pets: One dog. 28. what time did you wake up: Like…10:30ish? 29. what were you doing at midnight last night: Trying to get a little writing done, but ended up procrastinating on here and YouTube instead. :P 30. name something you can’t wait for: The next season for literally every show of mine. 31: what are you listening to right now: She Loves Me broadway soundtrack

32: have you ever talked to a person named tom: Uuuuh no? 33: something that’s getting on your nerves: When someone opens my door that was closed and when they leave not close it once more. Drives me insane.  34. do you want to change your name: I’m quite fond of my name. And besides it’s the name my parents gave me, so why would i want to change it? 35. hair color: Brown 36. long or short hair: Medium? (not too short but not long) 37. piercings: Earrings 38. tattoos: Not a one and am perfectly happy keeping it that way. ;) 39. blood type: That is an excellent question which i do not have an answer to. I should, but i don’t. ;P 40. nicknames: Bookdragon (what i call myself in the tags cause why not), otherwise i don’t really have a nickname on here. :P 41. relationship status: as single and lonely as the number 1.  42. zodiac: Capricorn 43. pronouns: she/her/that girl over there/hey you (but i also respond to dude) 44. most visited website: It’s a toss up between Youtube and here.  45. right or left handed: Lefty! 46. surgeries: No surgeries, but i did have a tooth buzzed down and a crown put on which was by far the most terrifying 45+ minutes of my life. 47. sports: That i play? Well i did swim for a few years, and i also do dance. Sports that i enjoy watching would definitely be football. 48. favorite tv show: No way i could choose just one! Once Upon a Time was one but it’s sadly gonna kind of down hill (i don’t think i’ll even watch season 7 :/ ) but i still love the earlier seasons, Fairy Tail, Snow White With the Red Hair, Yona of the Dawn, The Flash, Voltron: Legendary Defender, to name just a measly few. ;) 49. vacations: My most memorable was recently when i went to Florida for my sisters graduation. We hit up both Universal Studios and Disneyworld. I swear i was 10 years old again. :D 50. sneakers: I like Nike.

More general: 52. eating: Cheese It 53. fave drink: Sierra Mist & Dr Pepper 54. what you’re up to: Regretting many life decisions.  55. waiting for: Opportunities to get some real driving experience under my belt finally.  56. want: To finally get out of the house and get a place of my own (sadly it probably won’t happen till after graduation :/) 57. get married: Eventually. 58. career: Studying for Culinary Arts. 

Which is better: 60. hugs or kisses: I’m a big hugger (and have never been kissed so i couldn’t say) 61. lips or eyes: eyes   62. shorter or taller: I’m partial to both.  63. older or younger: Still both.  64. nice arms or stomach: Both are impressive 65. hook up or relationship: solid relationship 66. troublemaker or hesitant:  I find men who are hesitant rather cute

Have you ever: 67. kissed a stranger: Negative  68. drank hard liquor: Not a drop 69. lost glasses/contacts: Don’t wear em so no. 70. turned someone down: Not that i’m aware of… 71. sex on the first date: No (marriage first folks!!)  72. broken someone’s heart: No, not to my knowledge (not sure that’s possible tbh) 73. had your heart broken: Not necessarily 74. been arrested: Negative 75. cried when someone died: Not yet, but I become really really sad 76. fallen for a friend: No (though i did have a crush on a guy i’ve known for years through theatre that lasted like 2 years)

Do you believe in:

77. yourself: Not nearly as much as i should, but i’m working on it. 78. miracles: Absolutely. There are things that have happened to me and family that can only be described as a God-given miracle.  79. love at first sight: I believe beauty is what captures your attention, but personality is what captures your heart.  80. santa claus: Till i was around 10. 81. kiss on the first date: Unless i’ve known him for much longer then the span of several months (like we were good friends before and only just now decided to date) no i don’t think so. 82. angels: Certainly. It goes back to the miracles cause it’s interesting how often those two go hand in hand.

Other: 83. current best friend’s name(s): real life bestie is @numericturtles, and other best friends names i won’t put on here for reasons. 84. eye color: Brown 85. favorite movie: How to Train Your Dragon.

I’ll tag: @shy-fairy-levele3, @themysteriousburrito, @leavesoflothlorien, @a-worthy-mystery, @onoheiwa, @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 

Only if y’all want to, i know its a lot, and i’m not sure who all likes to do these and who does not.

[youmakemebacon]

Close My Eyes (1)

Characters: Taehyung x Reader (feat. Seokjin)

Genre: zombie!au || not quite sure yet as usual

next part

A/N: Surprise! Welcome to my new series! Here is my take on something I’ve actually been meaning to try for a while. As always, please enjoy <3 - Admin Y

Many say that life is measured by one’s memories.

A baby’s first step – pride.

The child’s first birthday – joy.

A first failure – disappointment.

The second that follows – despair.

A hesitance before a kiss – fear.

Its passion – love.

Each individual has their own specific set of memories and the multitude of emotions that are attached with it. If memories held no meaning, they would simply be moving pictures within the mind. Despite so, memories are what are treasured above everything else.

You would do anything to preserve the memory of something – someone.

That is, however, a romanticized way of thinking of life.

From the time you are born to the time that you die, it is all a large countdown timer from the first breath to the last. Everything in between – those memories you make – they do not mean a single thing; you are unable to take them with you.

The moment you cease, so do they.

So to me, life is not measured by memories. They are measured by seconds.

And these are the last ten seconds of my life.

TEN

Tick.

Bzzz.

Tock.

Bzzz.

Tick.

Bzzz.

Tock.

Bzzz.

Tick.

Bzzz.

Tock –

Slam!

The alarm clock stops.

I open my eyes.

It is dawn and the sun has just started rising above the hills, casting a light over all that it touches. I watch as the shadows retreat until warmth hits the tip of my toes.

Warmth.

The sunlight caresses my skin with its heat and I wiggle them as they stick out from the covers of my bed. My limbs are sore and so I stretch, extending all my muscles in the entirety of their length. I feel happiness buzz through my body and intoxicate me because it’s the first day of summer – my favourite season of the entire year.

The time reads 8:07am. If I don’t hurry up, I’m going to be late for my classes. Running to the bathroom, I turn on the faucet while grabbing my toothbrush. As I brush my teeth, I run a comb through my long, tangled hair and make a mental note to tie it back later to avoid having myself look like a mess.

There’s a knock on my door.

“Good morning, Sleepy-head. Do you want scrambled or sunny-side up today?” my mother’s voice filters into my ears.

I peek out, toothpaste still lining the edge of my mouth. “Scrambled!” I yell.

She smiles, and I see the wrinkles deepen at the corner of her eyes. Her glasses slip down and she adjusts them with a hand. “With a side of toast?”

“And butter!”

There is the sound of laughter that tinkles throughout my room. From behind, she reaches out and takes out my uniform. It has been ironed and even after she leaves and I pull the sweater over my head, I can feel the temperature cozily hugging my torso from its corners.

“Look who’s finally up,” my father teases me the instance I arrive in the kitchen. He has his morning newspaper displayed in front of him and a hand holding a smoking cup of coffee. Its scent is smoky and along with the smell of breakfast they all waft all around me. I sigh contently as I take a seat.

“Scrambled,” my mother announces, “With a side of toast.” Onto my plate she slips my order, taking extra care to slather on a second layer of butter which makes my bread shiny and delectable.

My brother is sitting across from me, already wide awake and halfway finished his meal. He is always up before I am, no matter how hard I try to rouse myself. There’s a small adoring smile on his face as he looks at me, his baby sister.

The morning continues with small talk over the table. The birds are chirping outside, and as our neighbour crosses our driveway on his bike, he turns on the sprinklers and we all laugh as he gets sprayed.

I love spending the morning with my family. I love hearing their voices and their stories. I love when my brother ruffles my hair before he heads off to work. I love when my parents yell out, “Stay safe! I love you!” as I head out the door. I love looking up at the bright blue sky and counting the number of clouds as I walk towards the street. I love the feeling of my skirt swinging as I run to catch the bus. I love –

Bang!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

My eyes fly open.

“Lieutenant!”

Bang!

It is dark outside my window. The sun has disappeared and with it the clouds; the sky. There is only darkness that greets me.

“Lieutenant! Open the door!”

It is night. The sheets are cold and the floor is wet. My toes are frigid from being motionless within my boots since I fell asleep. My hair is still tangled and matted with dirt, leaves and other pieces of earth that I cannot be bothered to comb out.

I walk to the small sink and turn on the tap. A small trickle of water exits and I have to cup my hand beneath it, waiting patiently, until it is filled. It is only then I tilt them to my mouth and I drink my fill.

“Lieutenant?!”

“I’m coming!” I growl back.

Dust coats the mirror but behind the thick layer, I see my reflection. Bloodshot eyes that match a gaunt face. A long scar that runs from beneath my left eye across the bridge of my nose to my right cheek. I raise a hand and graze the fresh wound that adorns my ear. There is dried blood on my fingertips.

My jacket hands on the post of my bed as I walk past it. The thin sheets have been discarded to the side, having not been used once during the night. Once the jacket is secure around my shoulder, I make my way to the door. The material does little to shield me from the howling wind that seeps through the crack of the window.

Outside, there are the howls and cries of wild animals.

“Lieu – ”

I open the door before he can finish the word. His eyes are wide and fearful when they meet mine. He can barely form his words as the two of us walk down the dimly lit hallway. From the side, the flamed torches flicker and they continue to create new shadows as we pass.

“The new recruits are here. There aren’t many of them – possibly seven the last time I counted. What do you want me to do – ”

“Hold this,” I interrupt him. We are now standing before the door to the training hall.

I hear him gulp, a lonely sound that is undoubtedly too loud in the expanse of silence. He extends his hand.

I take it out from my side, and I feel the emptiness of it the moment it leaves my body. It slips from between his fingers when I hand it to him, leading to a clang which echoes. Embarrassed, he bends down to retrieve it again but his fingers are still shaking as they clasp tightly around the barrel.

I do not bother to hear his excuse as I fling the door wide open. I march in, staring at the unfamiliar faces that peer up at me. My eyes scan the measly group consisting of five males and two females. One of them is already looking as if they have already conquered the world; all of them full of energy and optimism; none of them truly understanding the weight of their new reality.

They continue to watch as I slowly circle to the side until I reach the middle of the arena. A boy – no older than fourteen – makes a movement to salute me but the instance I cast my gaze at him, his hand falls back to his side and he remains frozen in spot.

All of them have their training gear on, and I guessed they had been practicing before I walked in. I straighten my back and regard them once. They do not understand that just because we are in here, that doesn’t mean we have freedom. They do not understand that by doing so we are basically cattle in a pen.

“Come at me,” I say in a low voice, “Each of you; all of you. Come at me with all your anger and fervor. Come at me and don’t hold back.”

Slowly, I had dropped to a stance of attack. My hands are in front me and my eyes are gauging each individual.

The fourteen year-old boy looks unsure and he looks to his left at an older male. He has a smirk on his face and a smudge of dirt across his forehead. He regards me with a challenge in his eyes.

“Welcome to hell.”

I grimace as the bandage is tightened around my shoulder. My knuckles turn white as I grip the edge of the wooden table harder when the pain electrocutes the length of my arm.

“And this is why you shouldn’t have fought them. All at once, might I add.”

“I needed to see their abilities,” I answer. The world slightly spins at my recent loss of blood. I hide the moment of weakness by pretending to stretch my neck.

He sighs when he sits down across from me. There are not a lot of people that I can call a friend, but he is probably the closest thing I’ve got. With my tendency to rush in without thought of consequences, and his being one of the three medics of the facility, we had many opportunities to get to know each other.

Sweat beads his forehead and he shakes his head as he walks to the closest disposal bin. He peels off his bloodied gloves and tosses them inside. When he turns back to look at me, I see the fatigue that lines his face.

“So was it worth it, then?” he asks me, “Getting yourself hurt again just to have a mock fight with some inexperienced recruits.”

I intake a sharp breath of air between my teeth when he inspects the wound on my side. It is only a flesh wound, but at the way he probes to check for infection, it feels much more than that. He reaches for gloves once again.

“Five out of seven are weak. The sixth has no potential – we should send him home,” I tell him. I hear him click his tongue, a habit of his that I’ve figured to mean “no infection”. Yet still – whether I had misinterpreted that or just to torture me – he wipes the gash with disinfectant. I think I hear the sizzle of my skin.

“And the seventh? You said five out of seven.”

My mind runs back to the spar in the arena.

I had easily taken out four of them within a matter of seconds. None of them checked their blind-spots, and the only thing they knew how to do was charge head-on. It was an effortless task on my part when I parried their strikes and kicked their legs out from under them. However, I had been careless. I had let one of them ram their weapon into my shoulder, tearing the skin. This gave the remaining three enough time to run at me as a team. They had knocked me down and after receiving a good punch from one, I had retaliated only to dislocate my shoulder in the process.

Still, I was not one to back down of a fight. Especially not after I had told them all to come at me. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing the dark red stain spreading quickly across my chest, but a scrawnier young man had turned to the side and vomited. I knocked him out with a swift strike.

That left two. One male and the other female.

I had to admit, the female knew how to fight. She either had great intuition or had previously learned how to defend herself. Nonetheless, she was weak from starvation. I overpowered her and disposed of her like I did the rest of her comrades.

The final one.

“Y/N?”

I had unknowingly created a gap of silence.

“The seventh…” I repeat.

I had brought my other arm to protect my face, but he was quick. The man with russet curled locks and the wide smile indicating he was having too much fun rammed his fist into my stomach. It knocked the breath out of me and I stumbled back.

While the seven would never know, they were the toughest bunch I had fought in a while. They had likely met each other on the way here, but their teamwork was better than some of the teams that had been training here for months.

His movements were fast. Fists that struck one after another, aiming from my face to my body and then my sides. I had been battered a few rounds before I found a pattern to his punches. Once I had that analyzed, it became a matter of matching his speed. Again, it must have been hunger which caused his energy to have already become depleted.

I caught one hand and then the other. In my grasp, he was helplessly turned to his side and I brought my leg behind his, flipping his entire body in the air until I could throw him to the ground. Finally, there was no longer a smile on his face, but a look of surprise.

He looked up at the blade. Its tip had been sharpened to the point of easily cutting through paper, and it hung in the space between his eyes.

Both our bodies were heaving for oxygen after the fight and in my periphery, I could see the other recruits slowly getting to their feet. Their eyes had been trained on the battle between this man and I.

“And I would have been dead, right?” the man had spoken, his voice deep with a hint of a tease.

I felt a spark of annoyance within my chest at how lightly he could take of this situation.

“Argh!” I cry when my arm is popped back into its socket, “Seokjin!”

My medic gives me an amused look. “I’m surprised you felt that, considering how spaced out you were,” Seokjin rolls his eyes.

Gingerly, I rotate my arm. I had not given myself enough time to recuperate from our last mission. Everything hurts more than it’s supposed to.

“The seventh is…passable,” I say the words with a clench of my jaw, “He’s passable. But they all need much more training.”

Seokjin laughs, a sharp bark from his mouth. “That’s where you come in, Lieutenant,” he winks at me.

I growl, having voiced my opinion of his unrestrained flirtatious manner to all females multiple times. “If this is all, I need to go,” I say.

“Sure, sure. Go attend to whatever you need. I’ll be waiting here for when you need to patch up another reopened wound,” he says. He is no longer looking at me and is busy rummaging through his medical supplies.

I feel an urge to hit him across the head, but then he would yell at me for creating a mess of his hair. So instead, I grunt a farewell and exit the health ward.

I am too far away to hear him, but a few minutes later he does say into the empty room,

“Go ahead and teach them all to kick zombie butt.”

MASTERLIST

[fitnessexpert00-blog]

5 Fitness Products That Are A Total Scam Betches

New Post has been published on https://fitnessqia.com/must-see/5-fitness-products-that-are-a-total-scam-betches/

5 Fitness Products That Are A Total Scam Betches

Nicole Nam has a Bachelors of Science in Public Health Nutrition Specialization and a Masters of Science in Kinesiology. She has a personal training certification from the American Council of Exercise, and has trained a variety of clients, including a contestant in this year’s Miss Nevada competition. Follow her on Instagram here.

Before we even get into the nitty gritty of this article, I want to really quickly touch on something that recently happened in the fitness influencer world. This past week, a huge IG fitness influencer, Brittany Dawn, made headlines for scamming her followers out of hundreds of dollars by selling them what was supposed to be “personalized” workout and meal plans but instead were just basically the standard fitness ebooks. A word of warning: please do your research on the person you’re “hiring” to become your trainer! Even if they’re online. Choose quality over appearance—some people look good and don’t have the certification or training themselves to be able to spot correct form or even guide you on proper movement.

That being said, I would love to tell you that every fitness product being promoted and sold on IG is legitimate. I get it, there are so many products that look so damn good, but they just don’t make any sense. Trust me, I’ve tried quite a few products myself out of curiosity. I’m here to give you the full review on some trendy fitness products that I’ve tried over the years and whether they work (spoiler: most don’t) and the “science” behind the products (or, more accurately, lack thereof).

1. Weight Loss Protein Powder

I’ll start with this: there was this one particular protein powder that was DELICIOUS. For fear of legal repercussions I can’t really, like, name-name them…but it was a UK-based company and every IG influencer was at one point promoting the living crap out of it. Good marketing, as we will come to learn, does not a good product make. I did further research on said product, and found out that their whole nutrition label was a potentially (most likely?) a lie. As in, their shakes allegedly contained wayyy more carbs, and less protein, than were disclosed on the label.

That said, I used the protein powder as a post-workout supplement and NOT as a meal replacement, and it provided a better alternative for a sweet tooth craving (because this powder did taste really, REALLY good). I do not suggest ever using protein powder as a meal replacement if the powder is considered to be a low-calorie, fat burning powder with a high caffeine content. Also, the FDA does not regulate these supplement claims, so whatever you see on the nutrition labels and the miracle working promises are all up to the discretion of the company…meaning they could easily bullsh*t the whole thing. This applies for ALL supplements for sale in the USA, like in your GNC stores and stuff, not just the products you see on Instagram. The more you know.

2. Waist Trainer

I truly blame the Kardashians for this trend. A waist trainer basically makes you sweat more in your midsection, which is great… but SWEAT IS NOT FAT. Sweat is water mixed with tiny amounts of ammonia, salt and sugar molecules. So just because you sweat more does not mean you’re losing fat. If sweating more motivates you to work harder (it happens), then by all means. Just know that that’s not fat that’s seeping out from your pores.

View this post on Instagram

#ad I’m really obsessed with waist training! Thank you @premadonna87 for my new waist shapers! #whatsawaist

A post shared by Kim Kardashian West (@kimkardashian) on Oct 29, 2014 at 9:23am PDT

Now, I won’t lie…I do use a waist trainer, but not for the same reasons it’s being marketed for. I use a waist trainer as a back support for certain exercises such as squats, deadlifts, and certain abdominal exercises. If you want to use one, for whatever reason, I suggest using ones that do not have hard boning as that can restrict your movement and breathing.

3. Detox Tea

Good ol’ poop tea. That’s all that it is, and you could literally get it at an Asian supermarket for a fraction of the price. It’s called like, the Ballerina Dieter’s Tea or something like that, but I swear it’s been in Asian culture—or at least in MY Asian family’s culture—for ages. We whip it out whenever someone can’t, ya know, go.

View this post on Instagram

#ad using @fittea before my shoots is my favorite ☺

A post shared by Kylie (@kyliejenner) on Apr 28, 2016 at 8:00am PDT

So, yes, I use detox tea and I grew up around it (although the packaging was way less sexy)…BUT there’s something inherently very dangerous about people using laxative products to lose weight, because that’s actually a form of purging, so I advise caution. I think these teas are great for when you need them (aka when you are constipated), but do you REALLY need to detox everyday for 14 days as per most detox tea “instructions”? No, you don’t. I wouldn’t use them for 3 days straight, let alone 14. Using even a mild form of laxative for that long just cannot be good for your digestive system. At the end of the day, you want to still be able to go without any help, right? Don’t do it.

4. Appetite Suppressant Coffee Creamer

What a novel f*cking concept. So novel, in fact, I bought one at my local Gelson’s and I don’t even normally use creamer in my coffee (guess I was feeling spend-y that day). Remember when I talked about products that don’t make sense? This is one of them. So the creamer has ingredients such as hoodia and green tea extract that are in a lot of popular fat burner pills. The main ingredient is coconut oil, which is arguably better than your Coffee-Mate bullsh*t.

View this post on Instagram

Stay cozy this Saturday with our fan favorites. Hazelnut, Original, and Birthday Cake! Which is your favorite?

A post shared by Leaner Creamer Coffee (@leanercreamer) on Jan 12, 2019 at 10:35am PST

I stuck to the serving size which is a measly 2 teaspoons and the only difference it made was turn my coffee from black to a dark milky brown. I prefer my coffee black anyway, but there was literally no noticeable change in the taste of my coffee. I tried it three times and threw the bottle out, because it was useless. I mean, it barely made a change in my coffee so it’s definitely not doing anything for my body. Save your money, and learn to like your coffee without all the cream and sugar. All the caffeine without any of the crap.

5. Celery Juice

I swear, people are always trying to find a way to juice something. I can’t throw a bigger eye roll at this trend. This sh*t blew up on IG, and now EVERYONE is drinking neon green juice in the morning that is completely FIBERLESS and actually just like 90% water anyway. The dude who started off this trend is a health “guru” who is neither certified nor trained, btw, but claims to hear a voice that tells him about other people’s health status. He literally just started drinking the sh*t one day when he was 8 years old because he said a “voice” told him to. Is that who you want to take health advice from? Like, really?

There is absolutely no science backing celery juice as anything else but mostly water, because duh, celery is made up of mostly water. Unless you’re drinking this because you enjoy the taste (and let’s face it, you don’t), I suggest you stop juicing celery and start eating it whole because the fiber is the most valuable part of the celery. And PLEASE PEOPLE, stop trying to juice everything like you don’t have time to eat the actual fruit or vegetable. You’re not that busy, sweetie.

Images: @rawpixel/Unsplash

Read more: https://www.betches.com

[catherinesnyder]

What is creativity? The ultimate guide to understanding today’s most important ability.

Creativity is one of those traits that people seem to have an intrinsic understanding of, but if you actually ask them to define it, they get tripped up. It’s easy to come up with a list of creative people (Frieda Khalo, Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak, Einstein), and the outcomes of creativity (a novel, an invention, a new way of looking at the world), but it’s difficult to wrap your head around the actual concept of creativity. The more I researched this article, the more I realized creativity is an incredibly nuanced phenomenon.

by rvasilovski

But you have to start somewhere, so let’s begin with a definition:

Creativity is the ability to transcend traditional ways of thinking or acting, and to develop new and original ideas, methods or objects.

Let’s break that down:

It’s an ability It’s also an ability to run a mile, or to do calculus or recite a Shakespearean sonnet (Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?). So creativity is a skill that is specific to an individual. For some people, it might seem to come naturally, but it is something that anyone can improve at if they give it the time and effort.

It transcends traditional ways of thinking or acting Transcending means you’re going above and beyond. It’s recognizing the limitations of what already exists, and trying to improve upon it.

It develops new and original things I think the key word here is develops. Creativity goes beyond imagining: it’s about developing. If it’s an idea, you go out and do the research to prove it. If it’s a new process you try and test it to see if it works. If it’s an object, you build it.

Great! And now that I’ve provided you with that enlightening definition, let’s wade a bit deeper and try to really understand what creativity is (and why you should or shouldn’t care).

Creativity is a relatively new phenomenon —

Creativity has only been a thing for the past 60-80 years or so.

“But wait,” you say, “what about all those amazing artists and inventors of yesteryear. Are you telling me you don’t think Mark Twain and Sir Isaac Newton weren’t creative? Preposterous!”

I am certainly not one to dis the fathers of Tom Sawyer and gravity. What I’m saying is that the concept of creativity as we understand it—even though it seems so ubiquitous—wasn’t really part of the popular lexicon until midway through the last century:

From Google’s Ngram viewer

In many ancient cultures, ideas or advancements that we would attribute to an individual’s creativity were deemed “discoveries.” Even artwork was seen as an imitation of nature rather than a form of creation.

In the medieval Christian world, creative ideas were positioned as divine inspiration. Did you do something awesome? You owe god a high five for sending that fantastic idea your way, my friend.

With the dawning of the enlightenment, we started to see a gradual shift towards individual responsibility, but even then the focus was on imagination and intelligence—both of which are definitely part of the modern definition of creativity, but not quite the same thing.

by E·the·re·al”

Where we really begin to see the emergence in the idea of modern creativity is in the 1920s. With the birth of psychology1 at the end of the 19th century, paradigms in the western world shifted to focus more intently on the individual, and our unique capabilities and personalities. (Another one of those things that we think as innate—personality wasn’t really a thing until Freud.) Creativity as an ability, or a personality trait, first gained popularity after Graham Wallas’ book Art of Thought. In this work, Wallas presents a model for how humans approach problems and think creatively.

And thus, the modern idea of creativity was born. Since then, psychologists and researchers in other disciplines have only continued to develop the idea into what we understand today.

So does that mean that no one was creative until the 1930s? No, clearly humans have had the ability to think outside the box and develop new ideas for a long time. What the current focus on creativity does show is that it’s a valued quality in our culture right now. The focus on it as a coveted trait can probably be linked to the rapid development of new ideas and technology in the past century.

Creativity is a pattern of thinking —

So we know that creativity is an ability that allows people to develop new ideas, but that still feels a bit vague and intangible (kind of like saying swimming is the ability to not drown in water—technically true, but not particularly useful if you’re going for a deeper understanding, or ya know, wanting to not drown). Put on your floaties and let’s dive into the deep end.

All skills originate in our brains: whether it’s physical (learning to do the breaststroke) or mental (learning to solve an algebraic equation), it’s all about neurons in the right part of your brain firing over and over again until what you’re doing becomes ingrained.2

Creativity is the skill to transcend traditional ways of thinking and come up with new ideas. But where do these new ideas come from?

Forget left vs. right brained, it’s all about the networks.

Like the persistent “we only use 10% of our brains” myth, the concept of left-brained = creative vs. right-brained = analytical is total pseudoscience.

by LittleFox

Yes, there are parts of our brain that have specific functions, but it’s the connections between these areas, and the subsequent networks they create which creates cognition. For example, if you’re trying to climb over a log that’s fallen on a path, you’re likely engaging the network which links the parts of your brain that process visual images and govern motor coordination. If you’re explaining to a friend how to climb over said log, add in the parts of your brain which control language.

When it comes to creativity, neuroscientists have identified three large-scale (and aptly named) networks of the brain that are important:

The executive attention network helps you pay attention and focus

The imagination network allows you to daydream or imagine yourself in someone else’s shoes

The salience network let’s you identify when things you have buried deep in your brain are salient to the world around you (e.g. you’re going for a hike and taking in the scenery, and you notice this plant… realize it looks familiar… and that it’s poison ivy! And you just saved yourself from a terrible itchy rash.)

The more active these networks are in your brain, and the more they work together, the more creative you are.3

So going back to our original question: what is creativity? Creativity is a skill that allows you to draw understanding of the world around you, connect those observations to your existing knowledge reservoirs, and imagine new applications of your knowledge on the world.

Is there a connection between creativity and intelligence? —

This study purports to find a positive correlation between creativity and intelligence, but our in-house statistician was dubious of the results.

So if it’s all about what’s going on in certain brain networks, does that mean that creative people are smarter? I wish I had an easy yes or no answer for you, but the study of creativity is still a pretty new thing, and the research isn’t entirely settled on this matter yet.

In 1999, researchers Sternberg and O’Hara provided a framework of five possible relationships between creativity and intelligence:

Creativity is a type of intelligence

Intelligence is a type of creativity

Creativity and intelligence are overlapping constructs (they have some traits in common)

Creativity and intelligence are part of the same construct (they’re basically the same thing)

Creativity and intelligence are distinct constructs (there is no relationship between them)

There are studies that provide evidence in favor of each of these perspectives, but thus far none has been overwhelming in its conclusions. So essentially there’s nothing that shows if you’re smarter you’re more creative. But there’s nothing showing that there’s not a correlation either.

Are children more creative than adults? —

If you do a Google search on creativity, you’ll pretty quickly run into an article that mentions a study run by Professor George Land that seems to show that children become less creative over time.

The gist: Land worked with NASA to develop a creativity test that would help them select innovative engineers and scientists for the space program. In 1968, he and colleague Beth Jarmen gave the same test to 1,600 children and found that—shock—98% of five-year-olds were apparently creative geniuses. And we all just got less and less creative as we aged, until only a measly 2% of us adults qualify as creative geniuses.

by fritzR

Now, maybe I’m just bitter because I’m jealous of all those child prodigies and their ideas that would allow them to be astronauts, but I’m a bit skeptical of these results. Sure, they make for great clickbait and feel-goodry (just embrace your inner child, ignore the pressures of society and you might be able to qualify to go the moon!) but have you spent any time with a five year old recently?

My colleague has a son about this age: this past weekend he linked together a Barrel of Monkeys to create a ladder for his green army men to climb.

Not only is this adorable, but it’s an amazing example of out-of-the-box creative thinking. But real world application? Maybe not so much. (Though I’m having a fantastic time imagining this scenario!)

Fewer synapses = fewer monkeys?

Young children have amazing brains: they develop literally trillions of neural synapses in the first few years of life. Then, through a process called synaptic pruning, those connections decrease over time, as some of these synapses are used and others aren’t.

In other words, kids connect all sorts of weird things together in their minds because they haven’t learned that these things don’t necessarily go together yet. This ability to make connections between seemingly unrelated things—also called divergent thinking—is an important tennant in creative thinking. But it’s just one part of it. And probably why I’m not quite ready to trust the Space Program to child geniuses just yet.

But this highlights an important question:

How do we test for creativity? —

Some of our designers excel at divergent thinking. Flying turtle by Fafahrd Deustua.

The original creativity tests developed in the 1960s are tests of divergent thinking. A couple examples of these include alternative uses (how many different ways can you think of to use a paperclip; the number and originality of your ideas impact your score) and incomplete figure tests where you’re given a line on a paper and asked to finish the drawing (uncommon subject matter, implied stories, humor and originality earn high marks).4

Other researchers have tried to measure creativity through self-reported creativity questionnaires and social-personality approaches (where they look at a mix of other personality traits and try to find a “formula” for a creative person). Both of these methods have some inherent biases.

So while divergent thinking tests have been criticized, they are currently the most accepted measure of creativity. (Though I’m very curious to see where the neuroscience takes us.)

Why should you care about creativity? —

I hope I’m not being to presumptuous when I say everyone wants to develop new skills or grow their abilities. (Who wouldn’t want to be a faster runner or a better poker player?) But we all have limited hours in the day, so you can’t practice to get better at everything. Why is creativity one of those skills you should spend time developing?

by InQueen

Well, if you care about your career, it’s probably worth the investment. Both individuals and businesses value hold those with creative qualities in high regard. According to a survey by Adobe, people that identify as creative earn 17% more money than those who don’t. Similarly, in a survey of 1,500 CEOs, IBM found that creativity is the number one trait needed for business success.

And yes, the data from these surveys is based on opinion or self-reported creativity levels, but even if the scientists might squawk, it’s probably worth paying attention to. Basically, your boss and your boss’ boss both think creativity is important. And that makes sense as the definition of a creative person is literally someone who comes up with good ideas and can bring them to fruition. In today’s world, that is exactly the fuel that drives business success. So if you want to get ahead, start churning out those ideas like a barrel of monkeys. (Am I doing it right?)

Can you become more creative? —

Absolutely! Creativity isn’t a magical gift bestowed to just a few lucky individuals, it’s a skill that you can hone and develop. The trick is figuring out how to flex your creativity muscles.

1. A number of things happened at the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th centuries that shifted our world view, from the discover of relativity to the invention of mass, fast transportation, new ways of communicating across long distances, and of capturing reality (i.e. photography and filmmaking).

2. This TED Talk on how to practice effectively is great. It offers a great explanation of the impact of practice on our brains.

3.All that being said, there are some compelling evidence that our current education system is not setup to nurture the type of creative thinking that we value in today’s society. Which makes sense if you consider that the basic structure and curriculum of schools (at least here in the United States) comes from the 19th century.

4. Interested in more? 99U has a great article with 5 classic creativity tests you can try.

The post What is creativity? The ultimate guide to understanding today’s most important ability. appeared first on 99designs.

via https://99designs.co.uk/blog/

What is creativity? The ultimate guide to understanding today’s most important ability. syndicated from https://www.lilpackaging.com/

[helenpattersoon]

What is creativity? The ultimate guide to understanding today’s most important ability.

Creativity is one of those traits that people seem to have an intrinsic understanding of, but if you actually ask them to define it, they get tripped up. It’s easy to come up with a list of creative people (Frieda Khalo, Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak, Einstein), and the outcomes of creativity (a novel, an invention, a new way of looking at the world), but it’s difficult to wrap your head around the actual concept of creativity. The more I researched this article, the more I realized creativity is an incredibly nuanced phenomenon.

by rvasilovski

But you have to start somewhere, so let’s begin with a definition:

Creativity is the ability to transcend traditional ways of thinking or acting, and to develop new and original ideas, methods or objects.

Let’s break that down:

It’s an ability It’s also an ability to run a mile, or to do calculus or recite a Shakespearean sonnet (Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?). So creativity is a skill that is specific to an individual. For some people, it might seem to come naturally, but it is something that anyone can improve at if they give it the time and effort.

It transcends traditional ways of thinking or acting Transcending means you’re going above and beyond. It’s recognizing the limitations of what already exists, and trying to improve upon it.

It develops new and original things I think the key word here is develops. Creativity goes beyond imagining: it’s about developing. If it’s an idea, you go out and do the research to prove it. If it’s a new process you try and test it to see if it works. If it’s an object, you build it.

Great! And now that I’ve provided you with that enlightening definition, let’s wade a bit deeper and try to really understand what creativity is (and why you should or shouldn’t care).

Creativity is a relatively new phenomenon —

Creativity has only been a thing for the past 60-80 years or so.

“But wait,” you say, “what about all those amazing artists and inventors of yesteryear. Are you telling me you don’t think Mark Twain and Sir Isaac Newton weren’t creative? Preposterous!”

I am certainly not one to dis the fathers of Tom Sawyer and gravity. What I’m saying is that the concept of creativity as we understand it—even though it seems so ubiquitous—wasn’t really part of the popular lexicon until midway through the last century:

From Google’s Ngram viewer

In many ancient cultures, ideas or advancements that we would attribute to an individual’s creativity were deemed “discoveries.” Even artwork was seen as an imitation of nature rather than a form of creation.

In the medieval Christian world, creative ideas were positioned as divine inspiration. Did you do something awesome? You owe god a high five for sending that fantastic idea your way, my friend.

With the dawning of the enlightenment, we started to see a gradual shift towards individual responsibility, but even then the focus was on imagination and intelligence—both of which are definitely part of the modern definition of creativity, but not quite the same thing.

by E·the·re·al”

Where we really begin to see the emergence in the idea of modern creativity is in the 1920s. With the birth of psychology1 at the end of the 19th century, paradigms in the western world shifted to focus more intently on the individual, and our unique capabilities and personalities. (Another one of those things that we think as innate—personality wasn’t really a thing until Freud.) Creativity as an ability, or a personality trait, first gained popularity after Graham Wallas’ book Art of Thought. In this work, Wallas presents a model for how humans approach problems and think creatively.

And thus, the modern idea of creativity was born. Since then, psychologists and researchers in other disciplines have only continued to develop the idea into what we understand today.

So does that mean that no one was creative until the 1930s? No, clearly humans have had the ability to think outside the box and develop new ideas for a long time. What the current focus on creativity does show is that it’s a valued quality in our culture right now. The focus on it as a coveted trait can probably be linked to the rapid development of new ideas and technology in the past century.

Creativity is a pattern of thinking —

So we know that creativity is an ability that allows people to develop new ideas, but that still feels a bit vague and intangible (kind of like saying swimming is the ability to not drown in water—technically true, but not particularly useful if you’re going for a deeper understanding, or ya know, wanting to not drown). Put on your floaties and let’s dive into the deep end.

All skills originate in our brains: whether it’s physical (learning to do the breaststroke) or mental (learning to solve an algebraic equation), it’s all about neurons in the right part of your brain firing over and over again until what you’re doing becomes ingrained.2

Creativity is the skill to transcend traditional ways of thinking and come up with new ideas. But where do these new ideas come from?

Forget left vs. right brained, it’s all about the networks.

Like the persistent “we only use 10% of our brains” myth, the concept of left-brained = creative vs. right-brained = analytical is total pseudoscience.

by LittleFox

Yes, there are parts of our brain that have specific functions, but it’s the connections between these areas, and the subsequent networks they create which creates cognition. For example, if you’re trying to climb over a log that’s fallen on a path, you’re likely engaging the network which links the parts of your brain that process visual images and govern motor coordination. If you’re explaining to a friend how to climb over said log, add in the parts of your brain which control language.

When it comes to creativity, neuroscientists have identified three large-scale (and aptly named) networks of the brain that are important:

The executive attention network helps you pay attention and focus

The imagination network allows you to daydream or imagine yourself in someone else’s shoes

The salience network let’s you identify when things you have buried deep in your brain are salient to the world around you (e.g. you’re going for a hike and taking in the scenery, and you notice this plant… realize it looks familiar… and that it’s poison ivy! And you just saved yourself from a terrible itchy rash.)

The more active these networks are in your brain, and the more they work together, the more creative you are.3

So going back to our original question: what is creativity? Creativity is a skill that allows you to draw understanding of the world around you, connect those observations to your existing knowledge reservoirs, and imagine new applications of your knowledge on the world.

Is there a connection between creativity and intelligence? —

This study purports to find a positive correlation between creativity and intelligence, but our in-house statistician was dubious of the results.

So if it’s all about what’s going on in certain brain networks, does that mean that creative people are smarter? I wish I had an easy yes or no answer for you, but the study of creativity is still a pretty new thing, and the research isn’t entirely settled on this matter yet.

In 1999, researchers Sternberg and O’Hara provided a framework of five possible relationships between creativity and intelligence:

Creativity is a type of intelligence

Intelligence is a type of creativity

Creativity and intelligence are overlapping constructs (they have some traits in common)

Creativity and intelligence are part of the same construct (they’re basically the same thing)

Creativity and intelligence are distinct constructs (there is no relationship between them)

There are studies that provide evidence in favor of each of these perspectives, but thus far none has been overwhelming in its conclusions. So essentially there’s nothing that shows if you’re smarter you’re more creative. But there’s nothing showing that there’s not a correlation either.

Are children more creative than adults? —

If you do a Google search on creativity, you’ll pretty quickly run into an article that mentions a study run by Professor George Land that seems to show that children become less creative over time.

The gist: Land worked with NASA to develop a creativity test that would help them select innovative engineers and scientists for the space program. In 1968, he and colleague Beth Jarmen gave the same test to 1,600 children and found that—shock—98% of five-year-olds were apparently creative geniuses. And we all just got less and less creative as we aged, until only a measly 2% of us adults qualify as creative geniuses.

by fritzR

Now, maybe I’m just bitter because I’m jealous of all those child prodigies and their ideas that would allow them to be astronauts, but I’m a bit skeptical of these results. Sure, they make for great clickbait and feel-goodry (just embrace your inner child, ignore the pressures of society and you might be able to qualify to go the moon!) but have you spent any time with a five year old recently?

My colleague has a son about this age: this past weekend he linked together a Barrel of Monkeys to create a ladder for his green army men to climb.

Not only is this adorable, but it’s an amazing example of out-of-the-box creative thinking. But real world application? Maybe not so much. (Though I’m having a fantastic time imagining this scenario!)

Fewer synapses = fewer monkeys?

Young children have amazing brains: they develop literally trillions of neural synapses in the first few years of life. Then, through a process called synaptic pruning, those connections decrease over time, as some of these synapses are used and others aren’t.

In other words, kids connect all sorts of weird things together in their minds because they haven’t learned that these things don’t necessarily go together yet. This ability to make connections between seemingly unrelated things—also called divergent thinking—is an important tennant in creative thinking. But it’s just one part of it. And probably why I’m not quite ready to trust the Space Program to child geniuses just yet.

But this highlights an important question:

How do we test for creativity? —

Some of our designers excel at divergent thinking. Flying turtle by Fafahrd Deustua.

The original creativity tests developed in the 1960s are tests of divergent thinking. A couple examples of these include alternative uses (how many different ways can you think of to use a paperclip; the number and originality of your ideas impact your score) and incomplete figure tests where you’re given a line on a paper and asked to finish the drawing (uncommon subject matter, implied stories, humor and originality earn high marks).4

Other researchers have tried to measure creativity through self-reported creativity questionnaires and social-personality approaches (where they look at a mix of other personality traits and try to find a “formula” for a creative person). Both of these methods have some inherent biases.

So while divergent thinking tests have been criticized, they are currently the most accepted measure of creativity. (Though I’m very curious to see where the neuroscience takes us.)

Why should you care about creativity? —

I hope I’m not being to presumptuous when I say everyone wants to develop new skills or grow their abilities. (Who wouldn’t want to be a faster runner or a better poker player?) But we all have limited hours in the day, so you can’t practice to get better at everything. Why is creativity one of those skills you should spend time developing?

by InQueen

Well, if you care about your career, it’s probably worth the investment. Both individuals and businesses value hold those with creative qualities in high regard. According to a survey by Adobe, people that identify as creative earn 17% more money than those who don’t. Similarly, in a survey of 1,500 CEOs, IBM found that creativity is the number one trait needed for business success.

And yes, the data from these surveys is based on opinion or self-reported creativity levels, but even if the scientists might squawk, it’s probably worth paying attention to. Basically, your boss and your boss’ boss both think creativity is important. And that makes sense as the definition of a creative person is literally someone who comes up with good ideas and can bring them to fruition. In today’s world, that is exactly the fuel that drives business success. So if you want to get ahead, start churning out those ideas like a barrel of monkeys. (Am I doing it right?)

Can you become more creative? —

Absolutely! Creativity isn’t a magical gift bestowed to just a few lucky individuals, it’s a skill that you can hone and develop. The trick is figuring out how to flex your creativity muscles.

1. A number of things happened at the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th centuries that shifted our world view, from the discover of relativity to the invention of mass, fast transportation, new ways of communicating across long distances, and of capturing reality (i.e. photography and filmmaking).

2. This TED Talk on how to practice effectively is great. It offers a great explanation of the impact of practice on our brains.

3.All that being said, there are some compelling evidence that our current education system is not setup to nurture the type of creative thinking that we value in today’s society. Which makes sense if you consider that the basic structure and curriculum of schools (at least here in the United States) comes from the 19th century.

4. Interested in more? 99U has a great article with 5 classic creativity tests you can try.

The post What is creativity? The ultimate guide to understanding today’s most important ability. appeared first on 99designs.

via https://99designs.co.uk/blog/