#bc then it’ll just make her yell at me more and now im sitting here thinking of the worst like

[kimjoongs-main]

hongjoong come pick me up pls

[yakocchi]

Becoming a Family With Him, Part 3 // Shuichi, Hikaru, Rhion, Luke, Eisuke

so this came out, as further celebration for the anni. VERY GOOD, much more appreciated than the prior story set lol that one was kind of boring but i get it

they made the kids for all the... kid-less ones, and the eisuke one that used to be VIP-exclusive is now here for everyone to buy (rip those ppl who gacha for it)

my rambling behind the cut (spoilers!!)

shuichi // as ud expect, shuichi has a literal hime ass looking girl (kikyo) for a daughter. she’s only 6, but is pretty calm and ladylike. She even calls her parents with –sama so... ok luckily shuichi does not strip down all the way in the presence of her daughter and only takes off his suit coat. thanks dad

anyway since shuichi has a break coming up, he wants to have a family trip how nice. but then the dang girl wants to go over to see eisuke WHAT when soryu exists and lives a block away? unrelatable, im closing the app anyway eisuke is her first love, which wtf he’s like 20 yrs older than u. even worse, mc says she’s been in love since she was like 3.

shuichi is reconsidering the benefits of democracy in his mind but eventually relents. but then they’re still following the fucc-days rule they set years ago. well, as he says in the story, RULES ARE RULES

blah blah i don’t want to go over everything bc then it’ll be boring reading the story when it comes out in engl right? also im tired bc it’s 1 am and i just want to play toontown in bed but nothing really bad happens. they are a v cute family bc shuichi is a pleasant and mature dad. kikyo and mc even do a little surprise for him at the end and it is very sweet. i feel like out of all the families, this is the most ideal

mad hatter // so they have twin sons named Rui and Kai. Rui is the childlike one that resembles Rhion in personality, Kai is the more mature one that resembles Al. man i forget that boy’s name but u get me i know they only can use stock bgs but it’s killing me that these dang kids get to sleep in what looks like separate king sized beds.

even though rhion is now a father of two, he still acts like... 10. i mean he still horni but it makes me feel weird

later it’s revealed that Ota teaches them both as an art tutor bc they both showed an interest in art. this is cute bc ota is bad with kids in this universe LOL

the ending on this one was weird cuz the kids didn’t show up in the entirety of the last ep bc it was about WORK. so uh... interesting

hikaru // so their son is named akari. haha get it because it means light. like how hikaru also means light. can mc name her kids unrelated to their father or is that against the Geneva convention

this kid actually acts like an actual little boy. like what hikaru would’ve probably turned into if not for the whole sad backstory. the story starts with akari just bringing a dog randomly home one day. he actually saved the dog (it is very cute bc he did not want the dog to cry), and then after a talk they decide to keep the dog as long as akari knows the responsibility of taking care of an animal.

so next day, the bidders come over to their house and everyone’s like woaw a dog. lol they come into their house as guests and eisuke and mamo still demand for beverages, they all suck

akari names the dog... “Light” (Raito) and i want out of this nightmare. Naturally bc Light is an abandoned dog it’s still kind of bad with interacting with things. But then Light suddenly be giving the ( ╹ਊ╹) to soryu bc remember, animals love him. everyone clowns on soryu for being an unintentional dog whisperer and then akari is like “soryu san pls make me ur apprentice” and he gives some advice like approaching it slowly, and talking to it from the front instead of back.

blah blah there’s a situation where Light goes YEET after a Doberman gets all angry and then hides bc then another dog is scaring it. hikaru swoops in to the save the day as the Real Dog Whisperer. ok it’s cute when hikaru actually gets to look cool  for once LOL

luke // luke is cute on the bc “pre-story” scene he’s actually pretty open to the idea of having kids; he actually goes “well imo we should think abt it pretty soon, but i wanted to hear ur opinion on it” but then he gets horni. and then he’s like “our kids are going to have your collarbones. awesomeee im looking forward to that” ....ok

ok cut to the actual story and they’re in Japan. Luke’s kid looks... strange versus the others. why are his eyes so big? omg voltage his eyes arent going to be saucers just cuz he half white also the kid’s name is Yuri (Or Urey). They couldn’t think of any other Brit-styled names? Like Harry? Henry? William? Wilfred? hey stan be my princess btw he’s pretty cute, though he gives serious “timid kid that gets bullied in the children’s movie” vibes. He calls Luke “daddy” and mc “mammy/mommy”.

so luke talks about his relationship w/ soryu and eisuke and then yuri is like “i want friends like that” wow cute but also find less ethically-complicated friends

so luke lets yuri meet a young patient of his (haru) so they can be friends. they get along so it’s good. haru gets in critical condition later so luke zooms outta there to do the operation.

LOL but at the end yuri is like, “i want to make more friends. (...) can i go to the bidder’s room from now on?” this boy works fast

And then he’s like “Eisuke-san... please be my friend.” HIS POWER. even eisuke was like :O so then eisuke orders a whole bunch of food and books up to the penthouse. But then yuri’s like “...i like eisuke’s eyes” and everyone’s like oh man that’s gonna be his fetish

Baba: why have u started to have an interest in eyes Yuri: I read it from one of daddy’s medical books Hikaru: wtf u can read that at 4??? (...) Soryu: wat Yuri: um... i want soryu to be my friend too Yuri: bc soryu’s eyes are also powerfully cool...

eisuke // ok this gets an extended ramble bc the more annoying the story the longer i must complain

so you might be thinking, “oh so this is gonna be a flashback in some in media res styled story with your 2 kids, u know in the style of the others” and well, no you just go straight to white screen into the flashback, back when eito was smaller and thus a little more cute. well it’s not really false advertising bc they did say “reminisce” in the description. but i wanted to see eito be a good big brother for a moment! or... less good? man i wanted to see kaito go waaaah like a baby idk i wanted to see him exist

so back to the story they cut to small eito. even as a smaller punk he does fight with his dad a little, just w/ a more narrow vocabulary to work with. tho at this point he’s still pretty sweet so clearly eisuke clowning him day and night was a negative effect on his development. (doesn’t treat his child like a child) (child grows up to a punk that doesn’t respect him) (surprised pikachu) being the son of a billionaire means that this child has to go study at a very young age and listen to MOZART. no child of eisuke ichinomiya will be listening to degenerate bops like lee taemin’s criminal next day they all go to the very fancy school that eito will be attending. eisuke does a speech, but then eito is all like “why is papa over there all the time” in reference to how all the other parents in attendance are having fun with their children, but eisuke is busy talking to other people for business and connections etc. etc. mc kind of has a hard time trying to explain it to eito bc... it’s honestly poor parenting... eiji shows up after arriving late, and he’s like “gramps is gonna be with ya today! instead of papa” which is cute but then she’s like psst thanks for coming and im like oh... so grandpa just didn’t randomly come to the open house for fun he’s just gonna be surrogate dad while real dad is busy... aw... and then at the end eito’s like FUC THIS KINDERGARTEN. eisuke is like “(smh) don’t yell in public. (despite everything) you are still the eldest son of the Ichinomiya family”

and so afterwards it’s clear that eito does not want anything to do with this school. he just sits in the classroom until mc is there to pick him up instead of playing in the courtyard or w/e, wanting nothing to do with the other kids.

so later there’s a hiking trip for the students and both of their parents, and mc asks eisuke if he’ll be available for it. eisuke is like, “i have a business trip that day, so I’ll have to adjust my schedule” and he’s been very busy in the opening of a new business or w/e. mc tells him to not do so much for something like that and that it’s ok if she goes alone with eito on the trip.

it’s the day of the trip, and mc goes alone with eito. she notes that a lot of dads did indeed come along for the trip. she apologizes to eito and says that she did talk to eisuke about the trip before, but he’s simply busy for this day. and im like... but girl, you were the one who told him not to change his schedule for the trip. yes a trip may seem less important than business ventures, but don’t make it sound like you weren’t the one who stopped him. lol. idk why im pressed abt this single line of dialogue bc later she does realize she fucced up there well eito is just like w/e about it and has pretty much accepted that sort of thing

anyway eito goes missing later and one of the kids said that he told eito that his dad (eisuke) didn’t come bc his dad thinks that his work is more important than his son. so eito got mad and ran off somewhere

and then mc finally gets the lightbulb moment that eito... wants to see his dad!! he ran off to go try to see him somehow??? !! wow so sweet

it’s raining like a mf but then in her search for eito eisuke randomly pops out of nowhere. He’s like “ho i did not remember saying that i wasn’t coming” and she’s like “im sorrryyy” and both me and him are like “just find the dang kid”

ok yea they find eito, he starts being a good student, and u start to see where he starts being antagonistic towards his dad LOL etc. etc. lol this story annoyed me so i don’t feel like doing the rest of the play by play orz

anyway thanks for reading my garbage LOL

[korissideblog]

[slams my guitar into the stage bc im past my teen years and yet still full of unbridled teenage rage]

so this ending is dumb and stupid and I hate it 😭 pretty much the plan for this fic was just a bunch if monologuing, and I didn’t know how I was gonna end it till I was. ending it.

ok, groveling aside, fic uses characters labled in part 1. I’m very sleepy. Here’s part 2 of

The Hedonist

“Jetsam Kisa?”

“Yes.” Aito shuttered, as if a sudden cool wind had blown through the room. “He was my best friend… and… well look at me now.”

Normally when this was said by someone draped in silk and gold, it was supposed to be a positive thing, but the pain in Aito’s face told the real weight of it all. How heavy the luxury really was.

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be.” Aito mumbled, quickly waving off the comforting words. “You haven't done anything to cause it.”

“I'm not sorry for something done wrong, I’m sorry that I can’t help you through it.” Sakura said, her voice lowering as she explained herself, frowning a bit as Aito finally removed his hand from her’s.

“Again, no need.” Aito repeated, stepping back from the settee. “Despite appearances, I’m fairly settled in it. Despite… everything...” she said, gesturing vaguely. “I know who I am. And who I am is a villain.” a small smirk tugged at Aito’s lips as Sakura handed the book back. “I’d even go to say I'm your best villain.”

“I’m not one to disagree, pet, but may I ask,” Sakura continued, watching Aito over her shoulder. “Why would you label yourself so?”

“Simple.” Aito chuckled, walking the book back to the shelf it belonged to. “Given my background, I know more about any hero we encounter than anyone else.”

Sakura squinted as Aito slipped the book back into the empty spot. “Given your background?” she repeated.

“As a past student of UA, I’d say I know most of the heroes out there- and their abilities- fairly intimately.” Aito hummed, pleased with the shocked face Sakura made when he turned to face her.

“Checkmate… you have a long leash- I let you associate with who you please, I let you go and come from this place as you wish, you have more say in my plans than I afford to many- but… I hope you understand my… insecurity in this.” she said, lowering her voice as if Aito’s education was something to be kept secret. “The implications alone are dizzying.”

“I know, but believe me, Sakura san.” Aito said, his face falling back into its usual stoic expression. “I buried my sympathies for my classmates a long time ago.” Sakura still felt a tinge of nervousness, but it melted away as Aito returned to her side. “I do what I want now, without regard for good or bad. Interesting how I seemed to fall right in line with people like you.” he hummed hurmously, patting Sakura’s shoulder in a rare display of affection.

“I’d say.” Sakura laughed as Aito quickly removed his hand. “Interesting though, that people’s suffering is what you want.” she mentioned, tapping her cheek as if considering it. “Masochist.”

“The word you’re looking for is sadist.” Aito corrected her. “The correct word is schadenfreude- but I prefer hedonist.” Aito noticed Skaura’s eyebrow raise minutely, as if asking a silent question. “Hedonism being the philosophy of pleasure. Though not a slave to my whims, I still try to give myself anything I want. My goal is to maximize pleasure, and I think I do it well.” she explained further. “Villainy… Well, if heroism was this fun, I would be a hero.” he paused, shrugging, “but it’s not… so I’m not.”

Sakura smiled, seemingly pleased with the answer as she resettled herself on the settee. “Authur Ashe once said ‘True heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic. It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost, but the urge to serve others at whatever cost.’ I believe myself heroic, at least in the sense that I serve villainous causes.” Sakura reasoned, purposefully perverting the message “But you… you don’t serve anything but yourself?” she asked, her smile widening as she looked up at the villain before her. “How do you justify it then? All of this.” Sakura continued, grinning as Aito sat down next to her feet, unusual behavior for the distant and stoic man Sakura knew. “Who does your heroism serve, pet?”

Aito paused, thinking hard as he leaned against the back of the little couch. “I don’t believe it serves you, Sakura san.” Aito reasoned, his hands slipping behind his back as if in thought. “Nor any specific villainous cause… I guess I’d say that my heroism serves my friends, my community, and my family.” Aito settled, her posture straightening as she turned to face Sakura. “As well as the heroes of Japan.” and before Sakura could even process the sentence, Aito was already tackling her to the ground.

The fight was short, Aito quickly getting the upper hand on the villain, and pinning her on her stomach as he cuffed her hands behind her back. “Checkmate!” Sakura barked, struggling under Aito’s knee. “What are you doing!”

But she was ignored, the character Checkmate immediately falling as Aito came back into the spotlight. “I already told you! I’m doing what I want!” he giggled, Sakura shouting in protest as he stood up and kicked over the settee. From his pocket Aito produced a small folding knife, which he used to cut open the bottom of the couch. Aito stuck her hand into the space and pulled out a bulky handheld radio. She flicked it on and messed with the knobs till there was a definite beep, quickly pressing the button on the side. “Iku! Yessam! My 9 months are up!” she chirped, Sakura stunned by the difference between her teammate and this new person, both somehow seeming to share the same body. “Yua Sakura is detained, I’m gonna need help for transport though.”

“Detained- you can’t detain me you brute!” Sakura barked, the chains around her wrists clattering as she fought against them. She was happily ignored by Aito.

There was a pause, and then a scratchy voice came through the other side of the radio. “Great job Aito!” the man replied, seemingly just as excited as Aito. “We'll be there in half an hour! Just keep Sakura entertained till then.”

Aito nodded quickly, looking down on the villain with a grin. “Awe you should have seen it, Ikuto! I was monologuing and everything! I was like a real life villain!” she giggled

“Troubling how well you can do that.” a different voice now, one Aito seemed just as pleased to hear. “But still impressive, good job Aito.”

“You bet your ass it was!” Aito yelled in excitement, practically bouncing in place. “Awe, I missed you guys so much! My hair is… wow, it’s rough. Blonde is not my color.” she laughed, noticing Sakura messing with the chains on her handcuffs and immediately realizing what was going on. “h-hold on there!” she barked, kicking Sakura’s side to discourage her from using her quirk against the metal.

“I-I can’t believe! You were nothing when I found you!” She yelled, curling in on herself to guard against any other attacks.

“God she’s a pain to deal with- but whatever! Jetsam! You have to take me to get my hair cut! Long is cute but it makes everything so much harder! Do you know how many times I’ve been grabbed by the hair? It’s wicked what people do to me.” he whined, glaring at Sakura before stepping away from her side.

“Sounds like a plan Aito.” Jetsam laughed, the background noise probably coming from whatever vehicle they were using to find the hide away. “Are you starting on the scene? We may not have a lot of time before the rest of the villains arrive.”

“Already on it!” Aito laughed, shoving her shoulder into a nearby bookcase and watching it fall into the ones behind it. “After this we only need to torch the place a bit, and it’ll look just like a kidnapping!” she giggled, watching all the books spill onto the floor with a chaotic glee.

“You- you traitor!” Sakura screamed from her spot on the floor, seemingly not enjoying the mess like Aito was, and still struggling against the cuffs. “I’ll destroy you- ruin you- I’ll burn- your heart.” She had actually managed to sit up by the time Aito had strolled over, but was quickly stopped by the hero.

“Awe…”Aito cooed, leaning over a bit to look the woman in the eye. “You’re cute when you’re mad, too bad you weren’t this entertaining the entire time. Hell, maybe I would have become an actual villain.” he joked dryly. “Sorry for this, but I can’t have you getting away.” Aito smirked, not looking sorry at all as he threw a punch at her temple, knocking her out cold.

“Mama always says never to hit a lady.” Aito sighed, talking back into the radio

“I think these are extenuating circumstances. Mama would understand.” Ikuto laughed, back in control of the radio. “Jetsam’s driving, we’ll be there soon. Have fun destroying the place.”

And have fun, Aito definitely did.

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Twenty Five, “A New Hope”

// FIND OLD CHAPTERS HERE //

hi!!!! i hope you’re all doing okay and hanging in there during this crazy time in the world. please know that im thinking of you, and please stay safe and healthy!!! id love to hear what you think of this chapter so plz like reply with thoughts or send me an ask??? id love to talk to anybody about this story bc it sounds weird but i love this story too???? like tell me what was your fav part??? what do you predict is gonna happen? 

thanks so much for still reading after all of this time, and i hope this chapter distracts you from some of the crap going on in the world ♡♡♡♡

                                            *SNEAK PEEKY TIME*

“But some moments when I’m so deep into my work, a thought pops into my head making me think that I’ll look up and see him there. Or some days I even think I hear his voice. Or I think the text I just got was from him. 

None of that happens. 

And it upsets me far more than it should. Some days I’m just better at ignoring it. 

I couldn’t have wished for a better “new job,” but sometimes I miss him. And I don’t know what to do about it. Because there isn’t anything I can do. I know I made the right decision to leave, but in the moments I get overwhelmed and frustrated with learning new tasks, I wish I could be sitting back in that desk down the hall from his office.”

                                   PART TWO: THE STRANGER

The noises here are all new and hard to get used to. The printer works differently. It’s like a maze in order to find the department I work in. There are key codes I have to put in and doors I have to scan my badge at. There are so many more names to learn here, and new phone extensions to master. 

But I like it. 

And I think I’m getting the hang of it. Slowly but surely. 

“It’s Becky, right?” a voice says, pulling me from my chaotic thoughts. 

I blink, looking away from my steaming cup of tea and to the face smiling at me. 

“Uh yeah, it is. And you’re . . . Molly, right?” 

“Yeah, wow! You’re good at names!” she laughs before sipping from her own cup of tea and taking a seat beside me. “How are you liking it here so far?”

“It’s good so far, thanks,” I reply, picking up my tea and blowing on it. Avoiding her round brown eyes, I think hard about where I’ve seen her before. She must be in the same department if she’s in this break room. Hmmm. I hate it when I can’t remember things even though it’s on the tip of my tongue. 

“You used to work for Styles and Lawson, did I hear that right?” Molly asks before taking a long pull from her mug. She crosses her legs clad in black slacks that end at the polka-dotted blouse hugging her large chest. 

If I got a pound for every time somebody has asked me that here, I wouldn’t even have to work here. 

“Yeah,” I say, trying not to sound how annoyed I am to have to answer this question for the hundredth time. I told my new boss this once, and somehow everybody in the Administration department now knows it. 

“Interesting. It looks like you stayed in the same world coming to work at the courts,” she remarks and I nod blankly. 

Yeah, as if I haven’t heard that one before in the last month, too. 

I continue to smile and nod at her repetitive questions. I sometimes answer them and then listen to her drone on about her three kids until the small hand reaches the 6 on the clock and my break is over. I’ve never been so excited before to go back to work. 

Sitting down at my desk, I almost smile at the way the cushion welcomes me back. Framed pictures smile back at me. 

Skye and I. Robbie and I as kids in matching outfits. My dad. My grandparents. 

The same ones I had on my old desk. At his firm. 

My chin arrives in my hand and a heavy sigh falls from my lips. The little pink clock on my desk tells me it’s only 12:30 in the afternoon. 

I wonder what he’d be doing right now. 

My eyes fall shut with a groan. I try to shake my head free of those kinds of thoughts. The very thoughts I’ve been trying to push away this last month. But after so long, it’s almost too hard. I thought that the more time that passed would make it easier, but some days it’s harder than others. 

I really like it here. Everybody is nice and helpful. My boss is easygoing, supportive, communicates well, and helps me with any questions I may have. My workload is realistic, it’s familiar, and I enjoy it. 

But some moments when I’m so deep into my work, a thought pops into my head making me think that I’ll look up and see him there. Or some days I even think I hear his voice. Or I think the text I just got was from him. 

None of that happens. 

And it upsets me far more than it should. Some days I’m just better at ignoring it. I couldn’t have wished for a better “new job,” but sometimes I miss him. And I don’t know what to do about it. Because there isn’t anything I can do. I know I made the right decision to leave, but in the moments I get overwhelmed and frustrated with learning new tasks, I wish I could be sitting back in that desk down the hall from his office. I tell myself that I just miss the familiarity. But I know that I also miss him. 

His sweet cherry smile. 

His contagious laugh. 

His bizarre outfits that I looked forward to every day. 

His twinkling green eyes. 

The taco dates. 

The late-night hangouts in his office with wine coolers and take away. 

The silly yet frustrating Scrabble games. 

His smell. Sandalwood mixed with bergamot and cedar. 

And his jokes.

His raspy deep drawl. 

And his warm bear hugs. 

Pressing my fingers into my temples, I blink hard. The thoughts disappear for a second, but not long enough. I lift my head and settle my fingers on the letters of the keyboard.  The login screen is only blurry for a moment, and the moment passes. But the ache in my chest and the racing inside of my skull doesn’t stop. They only continue as I open up a document and continue my work, as I continue missing him. 

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop.

+ 

12:30 right on the dot. 

The black second-hand ticks past the three nears the four, and then the five. Fat snowflakes fall against my foggy window, blanketing the rest of London in its opaqueness. The words of David Gilmour and Roger Waters tickle my ears, but I don’t listen to them. The thoughts whirring around inside of my head keep them out. 

I wonder what she’s doing right now. 

Is she liking her new job?

Are they being nice to her?

Did she already eat lunch?

Are any blokes flirting with her?

Does she have her own desk?

What kind of place does she work at now?

Is she happy?

That thought weighs heavier than the others, and I feel it. My lips part and a long sigh leaves them. 

Knock knock! 

“Yeah?” I call out, not bothering to turn around. The bustling of double-deckers, cars, and people on the streets are more entertaining than any emails I should be reading. 

“Harry, are you going to join us?” I hear a familiar voice ask. 

“Yeah, ‘ll be there inna minute,” I answer, ignoring the tone of Myles’ voice. 

The sound of the door closing trickles past the music and into my ears. My head falls into my hands and I let my eyes close. My fingers find their way into my hair and I remain there for a second, feeling my breaths leave and enter me. 

I miss you, Becks. 

A few breaths later, my fingers fall. Now, they find the closed laptop sitting near me and the leather book atop it. Next, my feet find their way to the door. But they stop in front of it. All of the moisture in my throat suddenly disappears, and a giant old lump appears in its place. 

Oh, not again. 

I breathe in and out and wait until it passes. 

My ringed fingers wrap around the handle and turn it. Swallowing past the lump, my feet move again and down the hall. Knuckling at my eyes, I round the corner and quickly wipe at my eyes. 

“You okay, Harry?” Myles asks me, welcoming me when I sit down beside him in the large meeting room. 

“Yeah, jus’ got somethin’ in me eye,” I tell him, gulping hard. But there’s something in his ocean blue eyes that says different. He’s been a blessing putting up with my shit and excuses, but I think he knows more than he lets on. He’s always cared more than he shares. 

He pats my arm before he turns to face Jennings who begins to talk. “It’ll be alright, it always is,” he mentions in a whisper. 

I nod and turn my attention to Jennings. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t. I can’t focus, and I can’t believe him. Because the chaos of my mind continues. And so do the pictures of her scattered around in there. And so do the feelings, because no matter how hard I try to shut them off, they stay. Even after a bottle of brandy. But the alcohol doesn’t make me stop missing her, and hating myself for messing up. And for losing Becks. 

+

Alex Trebek’s voice welcomes my ears as I step foot into my flat. I jump when I hear Skye shout back at him. 

“What is Little Women!” she nearly screams, and her arms fly into the air when she gets it right. “Yessssss!” she exclaims, cheering for herself. Her pigtails the color of snow and blue cotton candy dance in the air around her. 

I laugh with a shake of my head, sighing as I shrug off my coat. 

“Oh hey, Boops,” she greets me, garnering an eye roll from me. 

“You know not to call me that,” I reply, closing the closet door that now holds my peacoat damp from the winter flurries. 

“I think I’m one of the few people allowed to call you that,” she replies, and I give her a glare in return. 

To no surprise, it doesn’t do anything, because she just picks up another gummy worm and feeds it between her lips coated in neon pink lipstick. 

“What, did your clients cancel their haircuts and colors because of the blizzard?” I ask her, padding over to the kitchen island. 

“Yeah, bloody idiots forgot how to drive in the snow or something,” she nearly hisses, but it doesn’t last long because she yells another answer at the tv. “What is the Mariana Trench!”

“Skye, we have neighbors you know,” I scold her as my eyes search the shelves of our refrigerator. “Also, would it kill you to do some grocery shopping, perhaps before we’re snowed in?”

“Yeah sorry, I meant to but I forgot.”

“What’s new,” I mumble under my breath. I grab the first thing of leftovers I see and pop it into the microwave. Rice and broccoli from last night. It’s just so exciting eating healthily. “You’re on grocery shopping duty next then.”

“Have you seen Harry yet at your new job?” Skye pipes up, ignoring my question. I truly wonder how many times I roll my eyes at her in one day or even one hour. 

“No, I told you that I’m in like the way back in the admin department in the courts. He would be on the other side in the actual courtrooms where the cases are held, silly.”

“Oh well sorrrrrrrrrry,” she retorts and then yells another answer at the tv. “Who is Martin Clunes!”

The microwave beeps as I reach up into the cupboard and pull down a mug at random. It has superheroes donning its sides - Batman, Superman, and Wonderman. An old one of my dad’s. But that’s not who it makes me think of. 

“Funnier is not a word!” 

“Oh yes, it ‘s! Jus’ look it up in tha dictionary, or better yet, on yer phone,” he giggles in reply. Shaking my head, I type the word into Google and feel a smirk begin to warm my cheeks. 

“Oh god, what ‘s that look for? I know that look’s no good.”

“So funnier is a word, huh?” I counter, feeling the smirk inch up my cheeks slowly. Turning my phone around, I show the Google page to him and watch his face morph into denial. A sneaky grin lines his lips as he resists to roll his eyes. His head falls next with a defeated sigh and he punches the pillow. 

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Harry Styles,” I tell him, my lips letting loose a laugh. He joins me before groaning and taking his word off of the board. 

“I needa break,” he huffs. The sofa whines from his shifting weight and I hear his footsteps trailing behind him. 

“Tea break?” I ask and hear a pleased ‘yes’ in return. 

“Here lemme, ‘s my turn anyways,” Harry insists, and I feel his hand on my back. Facing him, he winks a hazel-green eye at me. “Go pick yer word, Becks. Lemme take care of tha tea.”

I nod and begin to turn to walk away. I almost stop when I feel his long fingers rub a circle into my back. But I don’t, because they’re gone before I can blink. A silent sigh drops from my bottom lip as I walk away from him. 

You have no idea what you do to me, Harry Styles. 

The thoughts being sewn together in my mind revolve around something other than the Scrabble tiles sitting in front of me. Instead, they’re about how well the skinny blue jeans hug his legs and another asset of his. And how the black and blue flannel he wears makes him look insanely cozy. My God. 

“Don’ think so hard, Becks,” Harry titters, and I pull my eyes away from the Scrabble tiles that were beginning to grow blurry. I look to him with a question on my face and find him laughing with those eyes on me. “Can’t find any good words, eitha?”

“No,” I say with a shake of my head. I let my head fall to the back of the sofa I’m curled up against. 

“Tha’s fine. Why dontcha put it t’ tha side an’ we can do somethin’ else?”

“Like what?” I ask, moving our racks of tiles to the coffee table where the board sits. 

“I dunno, you can pick,” he answers. As I grab for the remote, I hear the pouring of water and the clinking of spoons. 

Yawning, I sink into the sofa and press the power button. The television screen comes to life in front of me and the last thing watched appears. I flip through the channels, and after a couple of programs, I arrive on a familiar scene. 

“Oooo, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince,” I hear, turning to find Harry arriving on the sofa next to me. I take the steaming Marvel mug in his outstretched hand with a ‘thank you.’ 

“I didn’t know you liked Harry Potter,” I mumble before blowing on my tea. After deciding it’s far too hot, I sit forward and set it down on a coaster. 

“Oh, I love it. I read a few o’ tha books when I was younger, an’ ya can’t find a betta movie. There’s nothin’ like these,” he answers, eyes already glued to the screen. He sets his tea aside with a clud on the table. “Here,” Harry says, and I look over to find him draping my velvet black star blanket over me. And him. 

“Mmmm, thanks,” I mumble happily, pulling it up to my shoulders. I feel him move around next to me before finally getting comfortable. 

“Yer welcome, bug. I think this issa good way t’ spend tha resta tha night. Too cozy an’ tired t’ do anythin’ else,” he comments with a laugh ending his words. 

I nod and tip my head to the side, not expecting to find his shoulder right there. I freeze and peek a look up at him. He notices and glances down at me. All he does is smile at me before his eyes go back to the scene on the television. 

I decide to stay there and he doesn’t seem to mind, only intent on commenting on the scene happening where Dumbledore first meets Voldemort. “Oooo, I like this part here. They make it look so cool with tha wisps o’ memories, an’ tha lighting ‘s incredible an’ so spooky.”

“Mmmmh, I always liked Tom Riddle, because of how creepy he is. And he’s much better looking than Voldemort,” I comment. 

“What?” Harry laughs, taking a peek at me. His thick eyebrows are scrunched in a disbelieving question as a smile pinches his dimpled cheeks. “But Tom Riddle ‘s Voldemort, ya goof.”

“Yeah I know, but like his younger self is far cuter than the noseless bald bloke he becomes,” I try to explain, but he only shakes his head with a few giggles. 

God, I think I could listen to that sound for hours on end. 

“Ya don’ make any sense, sometimes,” Harry chuckles. 

“Come on, yes I do! Wasn’t it like with every Horcrux he made he just started looking weirder?” I counter, nudging his shoulder with my own. 

“No, ya silly! It was cuz he was so deep into tha dark arts-.”

“Including making the Horcruxes!” I almost shout in argument. I watch the realization embed into his features, and I know I’ve won. 

“Okay fine, yer right. Well kinda. From what I rememba it has t’ do with that, an’ cuz he was a Slytherin an’ Parselmouth so he wanted t’ look like a snake. Y’know, tha lack o’ hair an’ nose? I also read that it could also be cuz he was one o’ tha last descendants of Salazar Slytherin,” Harry continues, words of admiration falling out one after the other. 

“Woooooow. I didn’t know we had a Harry Potter geek in the house,” I say, trying to stifle a laugh, but it doesn’t work. 

Another eye roll. 

Then possibly the most adorable pout I’ve ever seen as he moves away from me with a whimper. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I laugh, trying to pull him back over to me. But he’s so tall and long, that I have little success with my noodle arms. “Harry, I was just kidding.”

“Sure ya were,” he pouts, keeping his back to me as he settles on the other side of the couch. 

His name leaves my lips in a laugh. My fingers remain around one of his biceps, and I pull, but he doesn’t move an inch. I give up with an exaggerated sigh and my own whimper. 

Plopping myself back in my spot, I hunker down underneath the blanket. Pretending to watch the movie, I wait. 

“Yer not gonna get me with that pout,” Harry says all of a sudden. 

Taking that as a dare, I slowly look over at him. With knitted eyebrows and my bottom lip sticking out. A smile appears on his lips and blush fills his cheeks. His hands fall from his shoulder-length hair he’s just put into a bun. 

“Fine, ya got me. I can’ stay mad at that face,” he relents with words dipped in sugar. 

“You’re not the only one who can do a good puppy dog pout,” I comment as the couch dips with his movements. I feel his shoulder bump back into mine. I try not to smile too big as I tip my head to fall back against his shoulder. 

“Ya comfy, bug?” Harry mumbles next to me. 

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Good, ‘m glad me shoulder’s all comfy for ya,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. I see it in all its glory when I chance a look up at him and find him smiling down at me. 

It’s like looking into the sun. And like all of the times before - I never want to look away. 

I swallow hard, feeling the lump forming inside of me. 

“Can you please not bring him up anymore? It’s not helping the fact that I’m trying to forget him,” I spit at Skye, setting the mug down hard on the granite countertop. 

“Sorrrrrrrrrry. Goodness, what’s gotten into you today? I thought you were liking your new job, Ree.” 

“I am, I just don’t want to talk a-about Harry anymore,” I reply, pressing the button to open the microwave. The smell of broccoli and garlic trickles past me. 

“You can’t even say his name,” she laughs, and I groan as I stir the broccoli and brown rice around in the hot glass bowl. “Heeeey, I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know why you gave up on him, you could always go back and finish your . . .” 

Skye’s words trail behind me as my feet pad down the hallway to my bedroom. You’re not helping me to forget him, Skye. 

You’re only making me remember him, and I’ve been trying so hard lately not to. 

My quilt several shades of pink welcomes my return as I plop onto my bed. Shoveling a bite of broccoli and garlic rice into my mouth, I grab the remote and turn on my tv. Reaching for the Fire Stick remote teetering on the edge of the table, I push it and instead of grab. It clatters to the hardwood floor and I groan in response. Setting my dinner on the wood table, I regrettably leave my bed to retrieve it. Flicking on my lamp, I squat by the table and peer into the space behind my table. 

There it is. The long black rectangle waits for me there. But just as I’m reaching for it, another rectangle catches my eye. This time, it’s a white one. 

“Huh?” I mumble, feeling the stiff paper welcome my hands. 

I flip it over and the light catches on it. The long envelope stares back at me, and so do the letters on its front. My name in black pen interrupts the white expanse, but that’s not the writing that I’m focusing on. It’s the return address. 

Styles and Lawson 418 Stevens St.  London UK

Turning it over, I finger at the sealed edge. I don’t realize I’m doing it, but I bite at my bottom lip as I debate whether to open it. I can’t stop wondering what’s inside, and the postage date of December 18th only makes my curiosity burn brighter. And the fact that I’ve never seen this before in my life. 

“Skye, why do I have a letter from Styles and Lawson that I’ve never opened or seen before?” I yell to her through my half-open door. 

“Oh, that? I put it on your bedside table when it came that day. How am I supposed to know why you haven’t opened it?” she quips, as dumbfounded as I am. 

“It was behind my table, so it must have fallen.”

“Ya think?!” she replies with her usual loud volume, followed by another Jeopardy shout. 

I rip it open without another moment of hesitation. The paper makes a satisfying sound. A matte white paper looks back at me. The numbers and watermark on it tell me what it is. My fingers recoil instinctively when I touch the glossy object. I instead pull it out by its edges. 

Splashes of red and green and long-forgotten faces stare back at me. Myles. Mickey. Rose. Jennings. Myles. Rory. And Harry. Their faces are followed by the words “Merry Christmas from all of us at Styles and Lawson. Wishing you a happy Christmas and a fantastic New Year!” in a blocky white font. Little holly berry branches decorate the corners of the picture. A picture taken months ago at one of their big meetings, I assume. The sun is shining in through the window, and Harry’s hair isn’t as long. Everybody’s arms are around each other and a big goofy smile sits on his face. Tongue out and all. 

I do it before I can stop myself. My finger dances around the outline of his face, and down the black and maroon suit he wears in the picture. Probably the only printed picture I have of him, and one of the few I have in total. But there are enough burned into my brain that I’m already trying to erase. 

I toss them both onto the floor, leaving them behind my table where I wish they would’ve stayed in the first place. I return to my broccoli and rice and play a new video on YouTube. It does a good job of drowning out his voice in my head, but not good enough. 

I want ya t’ come back, Becks. I want us t’ try again . . .. . . .. 

+

Shades of brown dance around in the steaming water. I watch them twirl together and meet one another. The water slowly grows darker and darker as steam rises off of the surface. 

“If you stare any harder, I think your superpowers will come out and it’ll explode,” somebody says wryly.

“Wow, I didn’ know you were a comedian,” I respond, wrapping my fingers around the warm metal chain. 

“I didn’t know you were eco-friendly all of a sudden,” Myles says, nodding his head towards my cup of tea. “Or a little kid, with that dorky thing.”

“Oh shuddup,” I respond, watching the brown liquid fall from the pink silicone pig tea infuser. “It makes me feel good tryna save tha environment, an’ this li’l thing ‘s bloody cute.”

“Sure, if you’re a bleeding first-grader,” he responds with a titter, pulling a mug down from the shelf. 

“Yer jus’ jealous,” I quip as I pry off the pig’s head and dump the soggy tea leaves into the waste bin. 

Myles laughs and walks around me to the black fridge to take out the carton of milk. I blow on my steaming mug, watching little waves form in the brown water from my breath. A little water tornado forms from my next breath. I watch in fascination as it twirls around in the mug before finally tapering out. 

“You okay, Hare?” Myles asks, his voice taking on a softer tone. A friendly tone. “You haven’t seemed like yourself lately. You haven’t even been drinking coffee much, and that’s odd.”

“I’m fine,” I answer, bringing the mug to my lips and avoiding his eye contact. Setting the mug down on the counter, I chance a look inside the fridge and wonder what to have for lunch. 

“Is it Becky leaving? Is that why you’ve been acting differently?” Myles prods, nearly pulling a sigh from my lips. Or a groan. 

“I said ‘m fine, My,” I nearly retorted, my eyes glazing over the lone yogurts and forgotten sandwiches occupying the shelves. Slamming the door, I walk away and pick up my phone from the table in the center of the room. Maybe some takeaway. 

“Hare, you know you can talk to me about it,” Myles insists, throwing his hands up in the air. I ignore him, typing something on my phone, but I can see him out of the corner of my eye. 

Like he often does, he uses his hands to talk and they jump in the air only to fall with an exasperated sigh. Then they comb through his tousled blonde hair. 

“I hate seeing you like this, and not knowing how to help,” he continues softly. I give up, pressing the lock button on my phone and shoving it into my pants. 

I finally face him and look in his distraught brown eyes. 

“I miss her, Myles! I connected with Becky, a-and I screwed it up. I called her a liar and Amber was harassing her tha whole damn time without me knowing!” I confess, feeling the weight of the words fall from my shoulders as I finally say them. But the emotion rises in my throat, no matter how hard I try to hold it back. “She was amazing! She put up with me shit, and yet she stood up fer herself when she needed t’. She was funny, she was smart, she was beautiful, an’ I fooked it up!” The emotion eats at my words and by now, the horses are already out of their gates. And I don’t know how to corral them back in. “I hate feeling this way, but I dunno how you can help or even how I can help myself, Myles. So ‘m not g-gonna be myself ‘til I learn how t’ get ova this.”

I don’t know what to do. I steal a glance at him and find the sadness in his eyes is worse than before. I can’t handle it, and so I lift my feet and soon I’m walking out of the room. Leaving my tea, and the god awfully cute tea infuser pig. The one she got me before she left. 

“I saw it and immediately thought of you.”

“Wow, thanks, that makes me feel all warm an’ bubbly inside.”

“No, silly, I just mean it looked like something you’d like. And since you drink tea so much. And you’ve been buying metal straws and bamboo toothbrushes . . It seemed fitting. And isn’t the little piggy just so cute?”

“Yeah, I guess yer right . . . it really ‘s cute.”

Winding my way around coworkers, I suddenly find myself in front of the elevator stabbing at the buttons. I don’t even register which one I’ve pushed, because I want to be anyplace but here. Today is worse than most because anywhere I look there’s a memory of her stuck there. And they jump into my head and start playing before I can stop it. 

The elevator doors open with a ding and I step into the empty four walls, gladly. Rubbing at my eyes, I stab at the button for the parking garage my car is at. With a sigh, I feel some of the tension boiling inside of me leave. I get rid of the warm tears painted under my eyes and blink hard until my vision is clear again. 

Suddenly, the doors open and I nearly curse out loud when I see who’s waiting. The look on his face says that he feels about the same way. I step to the side, allowing him room to join me. He almost changes his mind, but he steps on and presses the button for 17. An awkward silence surrounds us as the elevator hums to life, dinging with each floor it passes. 

“Can I ask you a question?” I blurt out loud, doubting myself the second the words pass the threshold of my lips. 

His confused gray eyes rise and lock with mine, a question on his face. “What?” he answers, nearly annoyed with me. 

“I’m sorry, we’ve neva really talked and ‘ve neva been very nice t’ ya-,” I try, but he stops me. 

“Yeah, you haven’t, Harry, and so why should I? The last time I did a favor for you it didn’t really turn out too great,” Asher responds sharply, moving further away from me shaking his head. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he changes his focus to that. 

I look away and bite at my bottom lip. 

Way to go, Harry. 

But then the words are being shoved past my tongue and I can’t stop them. 

“I . . . jus’ wanna know if she’s doin’ alright,” they say, and I’m not even sure if he heard me with how quiet they were. 

Staring ahead, I see his head of blonde quiffed hair rise. He doesn’t say anything right away, but instead, he seems to think about it before he raises his head fully. 

“She’s okay,” he responds, with certainty to his words. And with those words, they take a little more of the tension I feel coating my body. 

“Good, ‘m glad t’ hear that . . . Is she uh liking her new job?”

“Yeah, she said it’s good. I dunno if I should be telling you this, but uh she found a clerk job in town. The same sorta thing as what she did here, which is good and makes switching jobs easier,” he continues, and I soak up every word because they’re about her. I wish I could hear these words from her mouth. But I can’t, and that’s my fault. 

“A-an’ they’re good t’ her there?” I continue, not knowing how to articulate the rambling thoughts in my head. 

“Yeah, they are,” Asher says, looking at me briefly. I look back and I watch his expression soften. “She’s doing well, Harry. She misses it here sometimes, but she’s adjusting and I think she’s where she needs to be right now.”

He doesn’t get to say anything more, because the elevator doors glide open. 

“Thank you, Asher . . I really mean it,” I tell him, giving a small smile. He nods and steps off and out of sight. 

And thus began our random elevator talks. I looked forward to them, even if they only lasted a couple minutes. And even if I only got to hear a vague update about her. And even if it made trying to forget her harder. 

+

The halls are quiet. A ghost town from earlier in the day where hundreds of feet traveled, and even just twenty minutes ago. But it’s the lunch hour, and everybody else has the same idea as me. To leave. Now, my black mod boots are the only sound on the speckled floors. The tall ceilings hide fluorescent lights and the gorgeous stained glass also hides, but from the snow. Identical snowflakes fall in the sky outside, and I pull my coat tighter around me in preparation to join it. 

The snowflakes melt in my hair and try to fly into my face, the wind pushing them this way and that. My car takes forever to warm up, making me curse myself for forgetting my matching violet hat and mittens on my desk. It only has just begun to warm up when I pull up in front of the towering brick building. Flocks of people rush to the doors from their cars, and the other way around. The vents blasting out warm air hush when I turn the key, bringing the chill with it. 

Well, this is it. My lungs heave a nervous breath and I try to sike myself up to even just open the door. But my thoughts get the best of me, and strings of what-ifs and doubts circle in my mind. 

What’s the point?

What if it turns out the same way as before?

What if I can’t do it?

What if I’m not good enough?

What if I made the right decision to leave?

Why should I try again?

What if I don’t like it anymore?

How can I do it by myself again when I never could the first time?

What if I fail?

Finally, I open the door and get out before I can stop. And I decide to leave all of the what-ifs and doubts there. Behind me. I focus on picking up my feet and putting one in front of the other until I’m standing in front of the familiar doors I haven’t stood before in a long time. 

The warmth welcomes me and so does the familiar smells of books and fried chips. The smells I always associated with this place. Lines of people fill the entrance and conversations paint the air. The Christmas decorations are long gone, and new knick-knacks and flyers replace them. Instead, cheesy Easter decorations line the bulletin boards. Yellow baby chicks. Pink fluffy banners. Easter eggs colored in patchy by tiny hands. Colorful signs advertise local events, reminders, schedules, and many more things I don’t have the time for. 

Pushing back the sleeve of my coat, I peek at my watch. I have 20 more minutes until I have to be back at work. Oh goodness, I hope I won’t regret this. 

But I don’t think I will, because I’m finally doing something about all of the nagging thoughts and ideas I’ve had the last few weeks. And I’m proud of myself for at least taking the first step. 

Stopping in front of the Information Desk, I’m met with a cheery smile asking me how they can help me. 

“Hi, I was hoping to speak with an advisor, a Mrs. Shepherd,” I begin, feeling the words roll off my tongue with hesitance. I’m surprised with myself for even remembering the name.

“Do you have an appointment with her?” she responds, looking away from her computer she types on. 

“No, I uh was just on my lunch break and I was hoping to meet with her to speak about something.”

“Alright. I’m going to need your name and what your question is for her,” the lady replies, looking between her computer screen and me. I pause, focusing on the fake yellow chick sitting atop her screen. Her heavily lined eyes wait for me behind her pink framed glasses, and her curly brown hair dances in the wind from her mini fan. 

“My name is Rebecca Holte, and I wanted to speak with Sally about finishing up my last 30 credits of my law degree.”

[angel-deux-writes]

I don’t think I’ve ever talked about this On Here, but I really want to tell the story of the guy who put in my kitchen floors because it was terrifying

im putting it under a cut bc it’s probably not that long, but who knows.

(scrolled back up after i actually wrote it to confirm that it is in fact long)

Some backstory is that I was INCREDIBLY lucky and got my condo very cheap in a neighborhood I already knew I loved. The other unit I’d looked at was a full 30k over my budget, but this one was perfect because the owner hadn’t updated ANYTHING since it was built in 1985, so it was just...awful. Awful rugs, awful floors, awful walls. My dad is like...the dad who loves a project, so he was all “I can fix all of this except the floors!!! it’ll be great!!”, so I bought it. We hired a local company to do the floors, not wanting to go to Home Depot or whatever (Which i still support in theory, just......not this company lmao). Everything except the kitchen and bathroom was originally carpet. Hallways, stairs, every single room. And it was cheap industrial carpet, too. Like the kind in office buildings. The dude who did the carpet was like “what the fuck were they thinking???” 

Also, one of the carpets had a truly upsetting rusty stain, so. My guest bedroom might be haunted. 

Anyway, the carpet guy was great. He was the owner of the company, and he was older and very kind. I had my mom come over with me when he was doing the carpets, but I didn’t even need her there. He was cool. His son was in charge of the hardwood portion (I say “hardwood”. I mean, like, the cheapest laminate while still looking nice lmao). He was less great. He had a team of like 3 dudes and 1 lady who would show up and work, doing my office/dining room and upstairs hallway. I know carpet is easier, but the carpet guy took one day, and these guys took a week and a half. They messed up a few times, and it was kind of stressful, but overall it was okay. They had to redo all the subfloors, because condos built in 1985 were almost universally built in buckwild, impossible-to-explain ways, so it took forever. The hardwood guys were loud as hell, but they were nice! 

At one point, one of the nicest guys accidentally broke a few of my kitchen tiles while putting in the transition from the wood to the tile. I was cool with it, tbh, but he offered a discount on a new kitchen floor because, shocker, the subfloor under the broken tile was really jacked up, and it wouldn’t be as simple as taking a tile from under the fridge and replacing it. I was like, okay, cool! We set it up. 

I did not hear from them for four months. Which, I get it. It was a discounted job, so obviously they wanted to do full-price jobs first. I have no problem with that. The same hardwood guys came back to do the subfloor, and then they were like “okay [the owner’s son] will contact you about the tiles. That took about a week. Finally, I got a date. It was a Friday, a day when my sister was already working from home, so she was like “yeah, I can handle it.” She works in interior design, so she’s used to dealing with construction people, and she was REALLY useful when it came to talking down the son of the owner, who was like...every bad stereotype about contractors meshed with a used car salesman. 

So I’m at work the day the tiling is supposed happen. My sister is fine at first, texting me about how the son showed up with one single guy, and then left, so it was only the single guy working. She was annoyed like “it’s supposed to take one day, right? That’s what they said? There’s no way he’s finishing at this pace. Why are they making this guy do the whole thing by himself?”. She called him “nice, kind of cute, but a very slow worker”. I was like ‘well, if they have to come back tomorrow, whatever, that’s fine’.”

Around 10:30 she starts texting me increasingly insane shit. 

“He’s talking to himself downstairs? Maybe he’s on the phone”. 

“He keeps dropping stuff and yelling SHIT really loudly.”

“Someone just showed up with a bag, and he let them in, and they chatted in the kitchen for like ten minutes, and then the person left, and they didn’t take the bag with them”. 

“He’s standing outside using the tile cutter and SCREAMING whenever it’s on.”

“He’s out in the rain and shout-singing something while he’s cutting tile”

“He is BARKING LIKE A DOG TO THE TUNE OF THE RUGRATS THEME SONG CAN YOU PLEASE COME HOME”

I’m half convinced she’s making this shit up, but she’s uncomfortable so I tell my boss what’s going on and race home. When I get there, there’s a vaguely adam driver looking guy who seems nice enough. A little startled to see me, but we make pleasant conversation, I see that he’s not very far along, and then I go upstairs to see my sister. I brought her takeout as a treat, and we sit there for a while talking about normal things. Gradually, downstairs, the dude starts talking to himself. I’m thinking that’s still not THAT weird. Then he starts singing and clapping along. Okay, a BIT weird, but not terrible. I decide to go downstairs into the living room and play some Playstation. Like, maybe he thinks we can’t hear him upstairs and he’ll be more chill when i’m down there? NOPE! HE ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT! He does the barking thing again (and it is, in fact, the rugrats theme song), he’s working at a pace of about one tile per hour, and he starts singing a song that consists only of the word “bitch” over and over again. 

I’m texting my dad, freaking out, and he tries to get in contact with the owner or his son, but nobody’s answering the phone. My other sister and her friend are on their way for game night. My sister’s boyfriend should be home soon from work, but not soon enough. It is, at this point, 7 pm. There is absolutely no chance he’s getting these tiles done today. He’s not even halfway done. My kitchen is VERY SMALL, by the way, so this reasonably could have been done in a day with two people, but I suspect that because it was a discount job, we got the discount treatment. 

My other sister and her friend show up, and the guy is perfectly pleasant and normal to them. We all go upstairs into my sister’s room, and we sit there, waiting in silence for it to start again, hoping that maybe with more people in the house, he’ll be okay. 

NOPE! He starts singing the “bitch” song again. I distinctly remember my other sister whispering “I love this song” and pretending to groove, which was kind of funny but NOT THE TIME. I’m sitting on my sister’s bed clutching a camp axe like a maniac, because I’m like “we are going to be killed by this giant kylo ren asshole”. I’m still texting my dad, who’s like “if you need me to come over, I can, i’m out of work”, but at this point it’s almost 8 and I’m also thinking about my neighbors. Like, he can’t be here at night. He just can’t. He’s so loud even just doing regular tile things! 

I muster up LITERALLY EVERY IOTA OF COURAGE THAT I HAVE, and I head downstairs. I ask him when he’s planning on wrapping up, because I know there’s no way he’s going to finish tonight. He tells me it’ll probably take about two more hours. That is 1) absolutely not true and 2) not something I’m willing to deal with because I live in a condo with neighbors on either side of me, and one of my neighbors is a truck driver who gets up at like 4 am! So I explain that my friends and I have an obligation to get to, and I would love it if we could arrange for someone to continue the work tomorrow. He’s SUPER NICE ABOUT IT and is like “oh, okay, no problem!” He leaves. Just...walks into the rain. Leaves all his tools and his tile cutter. I move it inside because it was on my front porch and it is, again, raining. 

My sister, a Nancy Drew Game fiend, starts searching the entire downstairs and eventually finds the plastic bag that someone brought him. My other sister, who is a nurse in a hospital that primarily treats overdose patients, is like “yep, that’s drug residue for sure”. I’m like, okay, so he didn’t hurt any of us, and he was nice, just....high and weird. But it’s over now, so whatever. My dad says he’ll call the owner’s son the next day, and everything’s cool. He also says that he, my mom, and my brother will all come over to watch the football game at my house the next day just to be there (which...im less than thrilled about the football part, but sure). I also beg my friend to drive up from the Cape to pick up his hat that he left at my condo over the summer just so he can chill for a few hours in the morning. 

The next day, the same guy returns, with the owner’s son this time. The owner’s son is like “why did you only get this far along?” but otherwise doesn’t really say anything. The barking guy is TOTALLY FINE, totally polite. My friend lingers as long as he can, but there’s an ice storm coming, so he peaces out eventually. I’m alone for about an hour with the guy, and nothing happens. He’s quiet, even when the owner’s son peaces for a bit. My parents show up, we watch the football game, and nothing happens. I feel like A LUNATIC, because my dad is like “he seems fine now” and I’m like NO BUT YESTERDAY WAS TERRIFYING. 

Anyway, so that’s the story. I didn’t end up saying anything to the owner’s son, but my dad reamed him out a bit for sending only one person to do a job meant for two. And now every time I drive by that business I suppress a shudder, and sometimes the barking version of the Rugrats theme song still gets stuck in my head.

[dustinchris]

dude im starting to foam at the mouth at tmr. whats ur characterisation of the mains i need to hear the tea

when i first read this i was like MY characterization? but eye didn’t do anything.. and then realized james dashner and whoever wrote the screenplays didn’t really do anything either so.

i feel like (much like Avatar, 2009, Oh, Wouldn’t You Know) tmr focuses more on building a world than building its characters, now i don’t really mind this as i happen to be a fan of Places and Things, but i AM annoyed bc memorable characters = relevancy and thats a setback for what i’m trying to do here

i’m literally not even saying the characters are bad i like them but they needed rebranding. if thomas had some sort of unique physical distinction synonymous with who he is and his backstory, destiny, and legacy maybe we’d have a maze runner theme park at universal studios rn you know.

ok ok but the funny thing abt tmr is it’s basically a teenage boy hivemind..... the only thing they CAN think about most of the time is how to not die, they don’t seem to individually represent anything, and they all have their fucking minds wiped so there’s nothing about their past to shape them or motivate them or anything like that.. in this post apocalyptic hellscape the core goals of the heroes AND the villains are just going to be about survival and while that’s not uninteresting, none of that makes it easy to create distinctive characters. ahdjdkkd sorry i’ll stop myself and talk more about that later and now i will actually try to chat abt the tmr characters !!

okay so i mentioned none of them having backstory which is a lie because THOMAS, hello, actually has a backstory, and it is completely wasted on him which is so funny to me. like he’s a very in-the-now person who willfully ignores the fact that he has a past and honestly that doesn’t matter bc it barely affects his current reality at all besides people from WCKD already knowing who he is. like i strongly think if thomas was just some random he would still do everything the same and everyone would still be trying to kill him. thomas (alright besides his magic blood i’ll give you that) is not actually special but it’s like HE is the only one who knows that. everyone’s like why is thomas so special why is thomas different, but i think (again, besides the blood) he’s genuinely not, he’s literally just stupid. it’s implied maybe he used to be really smart but that obviously didn’t work out for him because now he’s just a newborn calf who’s dumb and brave and impulsive and it WORKS !!!! he’s naturally very curious, which is why he’s a good protagonist for exploring our fun settings and (more importantly) another reason why it’s SO funny he does not care to know about his old life . and thomas is a circumstantial leader. i think most YA protags in things like this don’t want to be the leader but are good at it once they try and usually NEED to be the leader for whatever reason. thomas leads when it makes sense for him to lead, like when they need to take immediate action or someone needs to yell “RUN!!!!” otherwise the leadership role goes to someone who is capable like alby or minho or newt or if they’re lucky enough to find literally any grown up who isn’t evil it’ll go to them. i think it’s nice that thomas pushes when something’s important to him but otherwise is fine with whatever he’s given. if one were to use cats 2019 terms i would say most of the time thomas is victoria if she was the jellicle choice but he’s jennyanydots when he’s alone (he sits and sits and sits and sits)

i think it’s significant TERESA was the only one who got her memories back and in the movies she doesn’t really become a person until she finds her purpose from those memories and her former self’s morals. thomas was like “yeah there’s no way i’m fucking with WCKD again because they suck. they put me and my friends in a killer maze. i ain’t reading all those memories. i’m happy for me tho. or sorry that happened.” but teresa needed to know and needed to justify her choices. if thomas doesn’t think he’s different, teresa definitely thinks she is! and she is unique, once she gets her memories she’s SMART AGAIN she’s a teen scientist wunderkind which i will never stop thinking about like how does she really feel about thomas who she KNOWS has lost all intelligence on PURPOSE and is on the right side of history because of it. what teresa did wasn’t even that bad i guess she had noble intentions but she betrayed the boys and that is not on. teresa is what always sunny would call “the useless chick” for most of the time in this fun little series but her shining moment is when she entered the maze and was like IMMA START THROWING ROCKS AT ANYONE WHO IS NOT DYLAN O’BRIEN (a very accurate and impressive representation of a teenage girl). and can i mention the dynamic between thomas and teresa would be a lot more interesting if they were twins. it’s the drama of the last of your family making a decision completely opposite your own instead of some random coworker you have no real chemistry with

BRENDA is just like Cool Action Girl i have no thoughts on her but i don’t dislike her. i don’t think we like ever see her interact with the whole maze group but they’d all be scared of her because she’s not fucking around and i think she would be mean if needed. she’ll fit in

this is the part of the tumblr post where i get to the best characters but have nothing to say about them 😔

MINHO is too cool for this series. i’m confident every single one of these teens is in love with him and he knows none of them are good enough. in cats terms he’s munkustrap because without him everything would be a mess but he’s got the range for the rum tum tugger. minho is the one who says “guys why don’t we just say fuck like normal people” after a week of everyone saying stuff like “shuckface” to which gally or any other rule abiding freak is like okay that’s IT time out. get on top of the fridge. and he screams THIS MAZE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE

newt :-) NEWT is mr mistoffelees in cats 1998 (NOT 2019) because he’s gay, he has the panache of a cat twirling around in a light up jacket shooting lightning out of his paws, and he’s saying things like “the rum tum tugger is a terrible whore” to RTT’s face and getting away with it. i love when he asks thomas if he still likes teresa and gets in his face about it and screams like what was that even about that was homosexual activity. i really love newt.... like can i talk about his fashion choices again the scarf and fingerless gloves in scorch trials even tho it’s a thousand degrees he looks good. and the shearling jacket in the death cure literally STYLIN... it’s very important that newt is the only british person in this whole thing i think. what’s up with that. i love it. he’s the most likely to think “wow this glade thing is kinda like love island” but the least likely to say those words out loud

[syncogon]

rainbow sea 星游记 new movie!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RToCz1Arveo

heretoforth referred as rs3 because i called the first movie rs2 and bc i still dunno what to call 风暴法米拉

LET’S. FUCKING. GO.

(when i have no fellow english fans to talk to i have to make up for the lack of hype all by myself)

i thought the news was fake, i had to reread it to be sure, i could NOT believe that after 3 years they would just drop it on us with 0 warning!!!

the poster is... beautiful... i cri...... (please... more posters??) 

notice the silhouette of his dad in the bg too :0 

hang in there maidang bb fight off the darkness

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RToCz1Arveo

the trailer/teaser wasn’t directly linked in the announcement posts, but!! i found it!! and it’s also really good and made me exponentially more hype!! because i’m me i’m giving this the frame by frame analysis treatment.

when i saw this i couldn’t tell if this was an old scene redraw, or just an old scene, or a new scene... i think it’s a new scene? in the past they’ve been at a river and this looks like an ocean. but it’s so cute! look at baby maidang and how he’s sitting!

so cute..... baby...... don’t cry ;_; also i still love the eye styles in this show

:eyes: but also how the markings have spread aaa :(

ooh i forgot this was what... europa i think? looked like in this. it looks so cool 

go gudong! i hope he plays a more significant role / has more character moments

white eye??? mm i never figured out how i should spell his name. whiteye? white-eye? bc redeye looks nice as is but too many of the other pentachrome end in ‘e’, blue, purple (maybe violet)... maybe i should just call them baiyan hongyan etc... but yeah im also super hyped to actually see the other pentachrome in action!!! it been 9 years man let us see more of them! 

wondering what challenge this is. i hope this competition is more than just straight up fights now haha

DIYA BEING BADASS! HER POWER IS SO COOL PLEASE LET HER USE IT WELL DIYA I LOVE YOU if i didn’t already have a new discord pfp from the poster i would totally use this screencap ngl

auroras also being badass!!! love his power too. GOD IM SUCH A SUCKER FOR CREATIVE AND CREATIVELY USED SUPERPOWERS ive been a superpower high since hh13 and also my qzgs superhero au and now this just keeps getting better!! wonder if we’ll get more char dev for him? please? more of him being embarrassed around diya? 呵呵

yeah this whole thing is really just me yelling huh 

MILONG MILONG MILONG MILONG MILONG MILONG MILONG MILONG

i’m going to cry

IT’S BEEN TOO LONG

WE WERE ROBBED OF YOU LAST MOVIE

I’M READY TO SEE YOU FIGHT AGAIN AND BE BADASS AFTER YOU HAD SOME SENSE KICKED INTO YOU

AND ALSO HEAR AH JIE’S WONDERFUL VOICE 

I’M GONNA CRY WHEN YOU APPEAR

WILL YOU HAVE NEW MOVES FOR US ooh actually i wonder if others will too

MILONGGGGGGG

wait since when did he have a knife/sword?

just some pics. fight scenes!

aaaaaaaa

sis boom rah

yo what’s with the ground here

it’s ya boi redeye!!! actually looking scared/shocked/alarmed!!! im so hyped to see him in action again??! kick his ass and save maidang!!! was auroras fighting him?? (man im kind of hoping to see tang wude again too but probably he’s still stuck on pluto sadd)

man i should do some screencap redraws tbh

aaaaaaa

i was super curious about the 3 figures here, but it might just be metaphorical - middle one is definitely redeye, other two look a bit like kela and kaliya

quiet sobbing

but yes im very very excited

hmmmm she wasn’t in this at all but i hope we get more of shu!!! (and her robot ofc.) theory of shu being milong’s long lost sister has so much support please let it be true. i gotta post that thing i wrote three years ago. (and the other rs things i wrote 3 years ago)

oh wait we didn’t see the guy that redeye reached out to at the end of last movie! the guy counting primes. wonder what role if any he’ll play? who is he? 

what else.... aaa i do wanna see tang wude too and more of his umbrella powers hehe

im just. so hype. i bet this also prob won’t be more than like 70 min but by god am i ready. 3 years for this, please let it be good. i also hope i can watch this soon bc idk when it’ll be available. i wanna pay to support them but idk if i can...

all my love to the rainbow sea team!! see you soon, fly again! 

[twin-heroes]

modern au where the lotus pier is a well known bakery !!

• madame yu is the head baker/manager. she rules with an iron fist and is slightly intimidating, but she is known for never skimping on quality. if you want something done perfect, madame yu will make sure it is going to be even more than perfect. the desserts at the lotus pier may be a little pricey, but they are definitely worth it. there motto isn’t “attempt the impossible” for nothing.

• jiang yanli and wei wuxian both work in the kitchen!

• jyl is a great baker and super talented with decorating. she’s very creative when it comes to designing the desserts. they end up so beautiful and elegant that you almost don’t want to eat it because it would be ruining the masterpiece. she would tell you otherwise and is actually very excited when people eat her desserts. she is truly madame yu’s pride and joy.

• wwx on the other hand is a little more abstract, especially when it comes to flavors. he’s very experimental which often has madame yu yelling at him, but his unique ideas made the lotus pier stand out. jiang cheng is usually his taste dummy.

• “chocolate and habanero peppers? who the fuck is gonna eat spicy choc— mMPH HEY BASTARD DONT SHOVE THINGS IN PEOPLE’S MOU— wait what the fuck why does this taste good?” “just believe in me bro.”

• “oh! a-xian, did you add hibiscus in the frosting? it tastes really good and the color is gorgeous!”

• jyl and wwx are always helping each other out and bouncing ideas too! “a-xian, what should i use to make structure this?” “how about rice krispie treats? btw shijie! what could go with the hibiscus frosting?” “oh, good idea! hm, i think a lemon cake might suit it well!” “that works! shijie always has the best ideas.”

• jiang cheng and jiang fengmian are both at the front. jfm is usually at the register while jc is the one preparing drinks and is occasionally at the register as well! (i imagine more people work there too).

• jc’s biggest pet peeve is picky customers. he has to really restrain himself from throwing a cup at them. jfm usually has to pat his shoulder to calm him down. “you’re almost there a-cheng, it’ll be ok.”

• in the afternoon, jin zixuan walks in with his gucci sunglasses on while a group of tiny elementary school kids follow behind him.

• “why is the peacock wearing sunglasses? it’s raining outside.” “shut up. that’s what rich people do. did you see his umbrella though? michael fuckin’ kors.”

• jin ling has decided that the best place to hang out after school with his friends is at his mom’s bakery. so jzx picks up jin ling, sizhui, jingyi, and zizhen from school, drops them off at the bakery, and then goes back to work.

• but before going back to work, he always orders a coffee and bitches about his day with jc.

• “a-yao is a little too good at convincing people and frankly im sacred.” “yeah? at least you don’t have wei wuxian as a co-worker.”

• the kids all love the bakery tbh. especially the lan boys since they rarely get to eat sweet things. jyl will always lovingly prepare something for the kids to snack on while they hang out and do homework. it tends to earn her some gentle nagging from madame yu.

• “a-li! at this rate you’re going to spoil the kids rotten.” she says, but she always ends up sneaking the kids a few cookies here and there.

• the kids are particularly attached to uncle wei, especially little lan yuan. he always sits down with them and listens to them talk about their day at school up until madame yu or jc yells at him to get back to work.

• after an hour or so, the kids, minus jin ling get picked up.

• zizhen’s dad constantly picks him up, but it varies with the lan kids.

• if it’s lan qiren, then they have to hide all evidence of snacking on sweets (poor jingyi seems to always get caught and sizhui ends up turning himself in bc he doesn’t want jingyi to be the only one getting in trouble).

• but if it’s lan xichen or lan wangji, then they are safe. every time lxc comes in, he always makes sure to tell wwx that lwj says hi (lwj never told his brother to do that btw) LOL.

• if it’s lwj that comes, well, wwx is constantly shamelessly flirting and everyone seems to know that the two are in love with each other, except wwx and lwj. even madame yu has to let out a groan in frustration. eVEN THE KIDS CAN SEE IT.

• “lan yuan, why doesn’t your dad just say he likes uncle wei.” “um...father...is a man of a few words...”

• wen ning probably got recruited by wwx to work there too at some point.

• maybe 3zuns also hang out there from time to time. nie mingjue is actually a big fan of dainty little sweets.

THIS IS WHAT I HAVE FOR NOW

[survivingthejungle]

foreigner’s god

so i’ve been hyped about this story for a while now. i’m considering posting my character list (complete with pictures!) and if i do it’ll be separate, probably right after i post this. ive also got a long ass playlist that i listen to when i write this specific story so if that’s something you guys are interested in let me know! 

anyways here we go im so excited to finally share this with you <3

(quick proninciation note, bc this story contains a lot of gaelige:)

eoghan = owen

niamh = neeve

labhraín = loren

liusaidh = lucy

Inis = (inish) old gaelic for ireland

At the crack of dawn, four young girls wake themselves up and sneak out of their room, through twisting, winding corridors, and out to the stables to ride off to the forest for a morning adventure. The two twins, Brigid and Niamh— Brigid was the eldest of the two, and would never let the other forget it— had bright blonde hair that shone as yellow as the midday sun. Their skin was soft and white due to the lack of sun in their homeland, and they had nearly identical pairs of light blue eyes. Brigid’s nose was more pronounced, her mouth a bit narrower, and her eyebrows a shade or two lighter than Niamh’s; they were not identical to those who knew them, but many people often could not tell them apart. The other two with them were Labhraín and Liusaidh, the youngest children in the mac Neíll family. Labhraín, unlike her sisters, had curly brown hair instead of her sisters’ pin-straight locks. Her nose was similar to Niamh’s as it was small and undefined- Morrigan always called it 'soft'-, and she had a wide mouth that presented the sweetest dimples when she smiled. Liusaidh was the youngest and, apart from her brother, looked the least similar to the rest of her siblings. She had long, straight, dark brown hair and dark brows to match.  She had brown eyes that looked like honey in the rare sunlight of Inis, and her nose was bigger than all of her other sisters’; though It was perfectly rounded. She had the fullest lips compared to any of them, and was almost always smiling and displaying her pearl-white teeth. She had a small chin and round face, but they were proportionate to her features. The two mac Neíll children who had not accompanied their sisters were Eoghan and Caridwen. Eoghan, the eldest of the six children, was also the only boy in the family. This made him the sole heir to the High King of Tara, Aéd— their father. Eoghan had dark brown curly hair all atop his head that matched his eyes and eyebrows. His brows were thick and always appeared to be well-groomed. His eyes were big and dark, and often carried bags underneath them. Eoghan was no stranger to sleepless nights as the future ruler of a large kingdom. He had a wide mouth like Liusaidh, Niamh, and Labhraín, but his own lips were not as full as theirs. He did, however, share the same dimples that Labhraín had. His chin was larger than theirs but segued well into the rest of his face, which was home to prominent cheekbones and a strong jaw. The sun had not yet peaked over the horizon when the four girls left, but was already beginning to light up their world. The fog in the open meadows and fields was highlighted by the sun’s rays and the morning dewdrops on the grass lightly stuck to the hem of their dresses. The group of horses and the girls that accompanied them were headed to the forest at the edge of the cliff, where they often spent their mornings watching the sun rise and climbing the trees until they were expected to begin their daily lives inside of the castle. Liusaidh was the first to begin climbing, which was not at all unusual to them. Though she was the youngest of the family, she was the fastest and often won their lighthearted races. She had made it nearly as high as she could go by the time the rest of her sisters had gotten halfway. Looking out at the terrain all around her, she was shocked when she saw what looked like a boat all the way at the end of a horizon. "Labhraín! Look, look!" she yelled down, as Labhraín was the nearest to the top. "What, Liusaidh?" She called back, now even more eager to reach the top. "Can you see something?" "It's a boat! Look! A boat! I think it's Vikings!" Liusaidh responded anxiously. She'd never met, or even seen, a Viking before; but she had heard plenty of stories about them from her brother, Eoghan. He used to tell his sisters stories before bedtime, and the girls' favorite kinds were scary stories about the big, bad Vikings who lived far away in Norway. Eoghan had never met a Viking, either, but he knew that everyone was scared of them; it made for easier storytelling. Brigid exclaimed her disbelief that Liusaidh had, in fact, seen a Viking boat. "Catch yourself on! There are no Vikings in Inis, especially not this close to Tara; don't be silly, Liusaidh!" Brigid loved her brother's Viking tales as much as the rest, but she always firmly believed that there was no reason to fear ever meeting one face-to-face. 'Father would never let the Vikings get close to us. He'd send out hundreds and hundreds of fleets before they could reach the shore,' she'd tell her sisters when they got scared. "Where is it, Liusaidh?" Labhraín asked once she'd reached her sister. Liusaidh was squinting her eyes and caning her neck out. Labhraín looked in the same direction and couldn't see anything; she told her sister as much. "It was there! I swear I saw it." She sighed, dejected. "Told you there were no Vikings, Lius." Brigid and Niamh finally reached their younger sisters, slightly panting from the climb. "Stop telling stories." Liusaidh  was upset at that. "I am not, Brigid! I saw it, I really did!" "I believe you, Lius," Labhraín admitted. "Sometimes I have dreams of Viking boats all on the coast, and that we don't have enough soldiers to send them off, and they conquer the whole island." "But that’s just a dream, Labhraín," Niamh noted. The four of them found comfortable branches to sit down on as they let their legs swing underneath them. "Dreams aren't real." "Not so! Morrigan said that dreams are the doorway to the faeries' land, and that they always give us  prophecies-" "Morrigan's a pagan, Labhraín. You can't believe what she says." Liusaidh and Labhraín shared a look with one another at this statement. Morrigan had been the nanny to all the mac Neíll children, even Eoghan. She was one of the few remaining pagan Celts in Tara, and though the girls were all Celtic Christians, she was beloved by all of them. Lius and Labhr were especially fond of her, because she always told them stories about the faeries, and the Tuatha Dé Danann, and the Celtic pantheon. While the two youngest girls were, of course, devout to the Christian God, they also believed deeply in the fair folk. It was why the youngest mac Neíll girls were always so apt to go to the forest; they loved to search for the magical beings. "Let them pretend, Niamh," Brigid chastised her twin. "They're only wains. Didn't you ever believe in the fair folk?" "Niamh is such a bore, she never believes in the fun things!" Liusaidh laughed. "She'll probably become an Abbess and never get married." The sister in question rolled her eyes at this, but the other three all had a good laugh. "You're all so horrible," Niamh grumbled. "I'm going back to the castle before I get in trouble, like the rest of you lot surely will." She swung her legs over the side of a branch and swiftly dropped from branch to branch until she had reached the forest floor and could reach her horse to return home. She was off before the rest of them could say a word. "Lius, Labhraín; we must go apologize to her. We have been particularly wretched this morning," Brigid conceded. Her younger sisters solemnly agreed and soon enough the three of them had also swung down to the forest floor, ready to take off on their horses and head back to the castle for family breakfast. - "You wee wains are going to make your mother sick with worry if she sees you like this!" Morrigan exclaimed, upon seeing the twins and the youngest girls. They'd returned home as absolute wrecks- feet covered in dirt and grass, the bottoms of their dresses covered in grass stains, scrapes from the branches on their arms and legs, and pine needles and small leaves stuck in their wild and unkempt hair. "I'd best lock you all up each night so you can't get to your stables before sunrise. Wee devils, so you are," she muttered, grabbing a handful of maids to help her fix the young princesses up properly. They'd been promptly ushered back to their room upon their return, and scolded by Morrigan (as was a part of their usual morning tradition). "Or maybe I'll send you lot off to the Wasteland and leave you there!" she considered, while picking through the girls' hair to rid them of the pine needles and leaves. She then instructed the maids to brush their hair out smooth while she retrieved their day clothes. "No! Morrigan, we are so terribly sorry. We didn't mean to get this messy." Liusaidh was desperately trying to save her and her sisters hides in the face of such a dangerous threat. Morrigan hummed in amusement. "Is that so?" "Really, Morrigan, honest," Labhraín swore. "We'll be more careful next time. We're sorry." "So are we; We really didn't realize it," the twins added. Soon enough, the girls were decently cleaned up and properly dressed, and they were all sent down to breakfast with their parents, eldest sister, Caridwen, and eldest brother, Eoghan. "Ah; good morning, my girls!" King Aéd greeted them cheerfully. "Eat your breakfast, we have something to tell you all afterwards." "Good morning, father." They each greeted him with a kiss on the cheek; then their mother. "And where have you little sprites been all morning?" Caridwen asked, winking at them. She knew, of course; she was the one who'd began the tradition of tree-climbing in the morning, back when the twins were little. Eoghan had sometimes joined them, when he was seven and Caridwen was six; before he had to begin constantly preparing to become High King of all Tara, and therefore all Inis. "I'm certainly positive they weren't climbing in the forest," their mother, Queen Danu, mused, staring down each of them before returning her attention to their breakfast. "Now don't you girls be late to your music lessons today. Your father and I haven't heard you play in so long!" "We won't be late, mother; We can't wait to play for you," Liusaidh grinned at her. Her mother smiled back. The rest of breakfast was eaten in relative silence as the six children of the mac Neíll family pondered over what news their father might have for them. The longer the silence continued, the more anxious they became. Breakfast was over soon enough and King Aéd decided to deliver the news to them while they were all still gathered. "Wains… I've-- Well, I've arranged for Caridwen to marry. A Saxon prince, so he is! Right good lad." The children were dumbfounded. Their eldest sister, their voice of reason, their anchor… was being married off across the sea? Caridwen remained silent and did not show any sign of reaction; she kept her mouth shut and stared straight ahead at the cleared feast table. Her siblings, however, were not inclined to be so passive. "Father," Eoghan began, "She's only fifteen--" "And I've been in contact with the Saxon king; his youngest wain, Alfred, is also fifteen. They won't be wed immediately, lad! We've decided to arrange the official marriage in three years’ time. As for now, they'll only be courting one another." Caridwen, Eoghan, and all of their sisters breathed a unified sigh of relief. At least she would get a chance to know the boy before they had to marry, and at least he was her age! She knew that as the eldest daughter of a royal family, that was not always guaranteed. "What about before she gets married, then?" Labhraín asked. "May she stay here in Tara, with us? Sure I don't want her to be gone forever!" "Of course your sister won't be leaving, Labhraín!" their mother responded. "She won't be living with the wee prince until their wedding. She will stay home with us until it is time for her to leave." "When will I meet my betrothed?" Caridwen finally asked, eyes still focused on the table. Her parents noticed her cold demeanor but decided to let her come to terms on her own accord. "We'll set sail for East Anglia tomorrow, Caridwen." "May my sisters accompany me?" She knew Eoghan had no chance of going, since he was expected to watch over Tara in his father's stead. "Labhraín and Liusaidh may," Aéd agreed. "The twins will stay to keep your mother and brother company." Brigid and Niamh weren't happy that they couldn't partake in the voyage, but accepted it anyways. Lius and Labhraín, however, were deeply grateful that they could be with Caridwen when she met her husband-to-be. They loved their big sister dearly and cherished all the time spent together before Caridwen inevitably would be sent off to marry as a political alliance. The Queen decided to end the conversation there. "Wains, please; don't wear such sad faces! Your sister is doing a great act for the future of Inis; and she sure may come to love the Prince! But for now, how about we all do our duties for the day and focus on the rest later. Hm?" — The next day the four mac Neílls set sail to Wessex; in another two days they'd arrived at Caridwen's future home. The family was met by two representatives from the House of Cerdic: Judith, the Princess of Wessex, and her son Alfred, the prince, and Caridwen's betrothed. The meeting, for the both of them, was awkward and uncomfortable. She was very thankful that they were the same age, because she knew that he must have been just as anxious and unexcited as she was. The queen welcomed them all to her kingdom and guided the mac Neílls back to the castle, where they were shown their living quarters for the time being. Judith, after a brief conversation with Aéd, instructed for Alfred to give Caridwen a tour of their home, accompanied by Liusaidh and Labhraín. Their parents, in the meantime, were to discuss the more 'political' matters that would be a part of their marriage arrangement. Once the four children were out of earshot of their parents, they finally felt comfortable to speak freely with each other. "You… You're not excited about this, are you?" Alfred asked Caridwen, not able to look her in the eye as he said so. She looked at him wide-eyed as she disputed the statement without missing a beat. "Oh, no; of course I am! I'm so sorry for being so aloof with you," she admitted, "It's very difficult to speak freely among our parents." Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. At least she doesn't hate me, he thought. "Yes, I agree. I'm glad to know that you don't despise me." He smiled softly at her. "I'd never! That wouldn't be very convenient for either of us, now would it?" she responded teasingly. "I suppose not. And these are your sisters?" He gestured to Liusaidh and Labhraín, who were walking behind them. "Yes," she smiled, "The wee babies of the family. That's Labhraín, and that's Liusaidh." They smiled warmly at him, and he was glad that his betrothed's family was not behaving coldly towards him. "Where are the other two?" "The twins are at home with our mother and brother. I'm sure you'll get to meet them soon enough." "You have a large family," Alfred noted. "Yes," Caridwen agreed. "And I love them all so dearly." Her smile now was bittersweet. "I'm very sorry that you must leave them. I hope you know that when we are married, you ought to feel free to visit them whenever you want. They can even come to Wessex, if that would be better," he offered. Caridwen took his hand and thanked him heartfully. Liusaidh decided to interrupt the conversation she'd been listening in on. "Sure you’ll swear it? We can come whenever we want?" Alfred took her hands in his own. "I swear it, Liusaidh. I'd never try to keep your sister away from you." She grinned widely and embraced him; at which point he was unable to hide his initial shock. Caridwen and Labhraín couldn't hold in a laugh at this, and soon enough they were all in a much better mood than when they had all met at the docks. The young royals' happiness wasn't to last for much longer. The announcement of unexpected visitors at the castle entrance was enough to dampen the joy. Judith and Aéd were quick to find their respective children. "Children, all of you; to your rooms.. We have… unexpected guests. From Norway." Liusaidh glanced, wide eyed, at Caridwen and Labhraín, who wore a similar look of concern on their faces. She leaned over to Labhraín and whispered quietly, "I told you I saw a wee Viking ship." — It had been days since the arrival of the Northmen, and soon enough the children had found out that there were only two of them; the King of the Northmen, Ragnar, and his son, Ivar. It had been whispered through the hallways that his son was a cripple, and that is why he was not being treated as harshly as his father. On the third day, after the King had invited Ivar to dine with him and his father, he was brought back to the solar with the other royal children currently  in Wessex. Caridwen and Alfred were in the midst of a game of chess, while Liusaidh and Labhraín were watching them and making comments to one another about each players choices. It was just beginning to irritate Caridwen when Prince Ivar was thrown in with them. "Prince Alfred, Princesses," a guard stated, "The King's ordered that the Northman's son be kept with the other children." "Yes, I understand," Alfred responded, dismissing them and approaching Ivar. "Do you speak our language?" he asked the teenager, speaking with more enunciation than most usually would. "I speak enough of it." His quick response was almost shocking to the three young girls. "You are the Prince?" Before Alfred could respond, Labhraín butted in with a question of her own. "How do you know English?" He looked to her with a blank expression, but through it Liusaidh could sense bitterness. "I learned it in Kattegat." "Is that your wee kingdom?" Liusaidh wondered. "Yes. It is in Norway. I would like to return, but I can not leave without my father." He glared at Alfred. "Your grandfather is keeping him locked in a tiny cage; like an animal." Alfred looked troubled. "I'm sorry, Ivar; there's nothing I can do. I have no power over the king. All I can do is assure that you will be treated well by all of us," he gestured to the three girls behind him. Ivar looked past him again at the three girls. "And who are you? I knew of a prince, but no princesses." "We are from the country of Inis, the kingdom of Tara. I am Caridwen. These are my sisters, Labhraín and Liusaidh. Prince Alfred and I are arranged to be married as an alliance between our two nations." "How diplomatic of you," he rolled his eyes. Dragging himself over to the table where all the royal children had just been sitting, Liusaidh took particular note of the way he resembled a snake. "What happened to your wee legs?" she wondered. Labhraín slapped her arm and Caridwen gave her a sharp look. Ivar was less offended than her sisters had been. "I was born with weak bones. But do not be fooled," he warned, leaning closer to her than she would have liked, "I could still kill you in the blink of an eye." Her eyes went wide and she turned her head to focus her attention on her lap, refraining from any more questions. "You are playing chess?" he asked Caridwen and Alfred. They nodded. "Let me play next." "Of course," Alfred told him. While Caridwen and Alfred finished their game of chess, Liusaidh was struck with the uncomfortable sensation of being stared at. She looked up from her lap and was met with the sight of Ivar looking directly at her from across the table, as if he were peering into her head. She averted her gaze swiftly but the sensation did not fade; he was still staring at her. In fact, he had been staring at her ever since he'd vaguely threatening her life. She felt a chill run down her spine and goosebumps creeped onto her arms. Caridwen lost— by a small margin, her sisters declared— and Ivar took her seat across from Alfred. He was quiet and calculating during the game, not breaking his focus as he moved pieces across the board into Alfred territory. Liusaidh was grateful for his lack of focus on her while he played against her future brother-in-law, but every once in a while, when she wasn't looking at him, he would steal glances at her. She is pretty, Ivar mused. Very timid, like a cornered cat. I wonder what it would take to make her strike. Moments later, Ivar won the match, and a nursemaid entered the solar to inform them all that it was time to eat with Alfred's and the princesses families. All the young royals stood up— save for Ivar— and made their way to the Great Hall for their meal. Liusaidh was the second to last to leave the room, trailing after Labhraín, when her arm was roughly grabbed by a gloved hand. She looked down to her left to see Ivar still seated, his grip on her not wavering. Her breath hitched in her throat. "I could kill you," he reminded her, referring to their previous interaction, "But what a waste that would be." He pulled her arm down and she was brought down with it. His free hand reached her face and he brushed some stray hairs back, letting his gloved palm rest on her cheek, his fingertips residing on her temple. His thumb moved across her cheek and she felt unable to breathe. Ivar did not break eye contact with her, but unlike with the rest of the royal children, he was not glaring at her. It was more of a gaze than anything else she could describe. She was finally able to find her voice as she meekly pleaded, "Please let me go." His momentary trance was broken and he released his grip. "Your sisters will be waiting," he noted, "You'd better hurry along." She wasted no time in obeying, swiftly exiting the room and moving down the hallway to follow behind her sisters and Alfred. When Ivar arrived in the Great Hall to join them, pulling himself forward on the ground, he seated himself directly across from where Liusaidh sat. She made a point to look anywhere but in front of her. Judith, sitting at the right hand of her husband, broke the silence after they had all eaten their fill. "Girls," she began, smiling at the princesses, "Your father tells me you are gifted musicians." "Father flatters us," Caridwen smiled, looking from Judith to Aéd. "Well. I would love to hear you all play something for us. Wouldn't you?" The sisters agreed and moved to the side of the room with an assortment of instruments ready to be played. 'What would you like us to sing for you?" Labhraín asked. "Something from your home. A traditional song from Inis, if you would; we had best begin to learn the culture of our allies," she smiled at them, then at King Aéd. He returned the look and turned his attention to his daughters. "The wains do have lovely voices. None better in the whole kingdom, so it is; and I'm not just speaking as their father," he stated. "Go on wains; sing us a wee song." "Very well, all of you. We'll sing something." Each sister sat down in the chairs set up amongst the instruments and picked one— a fidil, a cláirseach, and a buinne were chosen by the three. "What do you think we should sing, Caridwen?" Labhraín asked. She pondered for a moment. "Let's do Fáinne Geal an Lae," she suggested. It was one that the siblings had only learned recently, and it was fresh in their minds. It was a simple, slow, melancholic song; but the only ones who'd truly know that were them and their father. Softly, they began. "Maidin moch do ghablas amach ar bruach Locha Léin; An Samhradh 'teacht 's an chraobh len' is ionrach te ón ngréin. Ar thaisteal dom trí bhailte poirt is bánta míne réidhe, cé a gheobhainn me m'ais ach an chúileann deas le fáinne geal an lae?" One morning early I went out on the shore of Lough Leinn. The leafy trees of summertime and the warm rays of the sun; as I wandered through the townlands and the luscious grassy plains, who should I meet but a beautiful maid at the dawning of the day? "Ní raibh bróg ná stoca, caidhp ná clóc ar mo stóirín óg ón speir. Ach folt fionn órga síos go troigh ag fás go barr an fhéir. Bhí calán crúite aici ina glaic; 's ar dhrúcht la dheas a scéimh. Do rug barr gean ar Bhéineas deas la fáinne geal an lae." Not a shoe, nor sock, nor cape, nor cloak had the maiden from the sky. Her golden hair in tresses hung and touched the grass up high. In her hand she held a milking pail; in the dew, she looked so far. Her beauty excelled even Helen of Troy at the dawning of the day. "Do shuigh an bhrídoeg síos le m'ais ar bhinse glas den fhéar, as magabh léi, bhíos dá maíomh go pras mar mhnaoi nach scarfainn léi. 'S é dúirt sí liomsa, 'Imigh uaim is scaoil ar siúil mé a réic. Sin iad aneas na soils,e as teacht le fáinne geal an lae.'" The young maiden sat by my side on a green grassy bench; joking her and claiming that I'd never part with her. She turned and said, 'Please go away, you are not wide awake. Here come the lights, I must be gone with the dawning of the day.’ The three princesses lowered their instruments and were met with lively applause from their small audience. Liusaidh, daring to look Ivar's way, even saw him slowing clapping for her. For me, she chastised herself, That's a silly thought. Even so, I'm surprised he's even clapping at all. "What lovely voices you girls have. And so talented with the instruments, as well!" Judith praised them. "Your mother and father must be very grateful to have such lovely singers amongst them." Caridwen accepted the compliments on behalf of her sisters gracefully. "Thank you very much, Princess Judith. If you would like, we could sing something in English as well?" Judith accepted the offer and Caridwen traded the cláirseach for a timpán. "This love it is a distant star, guiding us home wherever we are. This love it is a burning sun, shining light on the things that we've done. I try to speak to you every day, but each word we spoke the wind blew away. Could these walls come crumbling down? I want to feel my feet on the ground. And deep behind this prison we share, step into the open air. How did we let it come to this? What we just tasted we somehow still miss. How will it feel when this day is done? And can we keep what we've only begun? And now these walls come crumbling down, and I can feel my feet on the ground. Can we carry this love that we share into the open air? Into the open air, to the open air. This love it is a burning sun…" Once again the girls were met with quiet applause. "Oh, dear Caridwen, I do hope you'll play for us when you come to live in Wessex with us." "Gladly, Princess Judith. It would be an honor." "I'm so happy to hear that." Judith addressed her husband and King Aéd. "Aethelwulf, King Aéd, I believe it's time for us to discuss more matters on the topic of our alliance. Children, would you all return to the solar?" The young royals all obeyed, and were soon enough back to the room they'd previously been lounging in. Ivar's gaze never left Liusaidh, even when she caught him staring at her again. 'Does he feel no shame?' she wondered, 'Staring at a girl like that… I suppose that's what Northmen do. Oh, I can't wait to go home and never have to see another Viking again.'

[maknaesdancersrappers]

🎶 I imagined a night for us, girl all night, show me your tattoos, if it’s alright 🎶

a/n: this is highly suggestiveㅡlol no who am i kidding this is smut bc im jaehyun’s hoe on the last day of her period what do u expect im sorry for playing favorites but a hoe is a hoe and im fucking thirsty

i’ve placed a keep reading line, but in case it doesn’t work, it’s not my fault bc the tumblr app is a bitch like that

-

Who would have thought local goody two shoes, Jung Jaehyun, was interested in the likes of you?

While he aced his classes and studied at the library until sundown, you barely passed yours and partied until sunrise. He was known in campus as everyone’s first love and you were labelled as resident heartbreaker. His hair was always brushed, seldom times styled, and his skin was flawless while you kept yours either wild and free, or up in a messy bun and beneath your clothes, your skin was marred with tattoos.

No one would have ever guessed that Jaehyun would have even considered you as a candidate to be his girlfriend, let alone catch the two of you in the same room at the summer vacation kick off party.

You honestly didn’t bother with him, assuming he thought you were nothing but a troublemaker. So when you locked eyes with him and saw the faintest blush tinge his cheeks, to say you were curious was an understatement.

You had thought he was embarrassed for getting caught at staring at you, but you notice him following you around the party and your interest was piqued. You decide to gauge his reaction towards your behavior; you danced to the loud bass music, seeing his eyes twinkle when your friends laughed along with you as you sang loudly to the lyrics of the song. His face grew stoic, gaze dark with jealousy, when you danced with guys, grinding your ass against their crotches and letting their hands roam your body.

When you’ve had enough, you stumble to the kitchen and grab a drink. As you pour yourself a cup of tequila, you see Jaehyun amble into the room from your peripheral vision. Smiling to yourself, you hoist yourself up on the kitchen island, letting your dress bunch up your thighs, and take one of the pre-sliced lime wedges from the bowl.

“Hey, Yuta! Up for a body shot?” You yell, voice just louder than the music. A few guys cheer and Yuta grins, walking up to you.

“You know I’m always down for a body shot if it’s from you.” He jams his body between your legs and you roll your eyes, handing him the cup of tequila.

“Requests on salt and lime placement?” You ask in the fakest, sweet voice you can muster.

“Tits and lips, baby, you already know.” Yuta winks, tipping the cup at you and taking a small sip.

With another roll of your eyes, you take a pinch of salt that’s already served by the limes. Yuta leans forward, licking a wet stripe between your breasts that are revealed from the plunging neckline of your dress, and you press the salt particles there, successfully sticking them on.

He waits for you to place the lime between your lips before leaning back down, collecting the salt from the valley of your chest, pulling away to take a gulp of tequila, and finally pulling your face towards him to bite into the lime--and Yuta, being the sly boy that he is, made sure his lips grazes yours.

As you discard the lime from your lips, Yuta is already handing you a new one.

“Nuh-uh, twice in a row isn’t as fun.” You scoff, letting your eyes wander over to Jaehyun, who you had momentarily forgotten. His head is low while Sicheng talks to him, but judging from his red ears; he must have been watching the whole thing.

Yuta groans, looking around, “Hey, Sicheng! Want a body shot from [Y/N]?”

“No, thanks.” He declines, shooting you an apologetic smile. 

You shrug as a reply. Sicheng might like parties, but he’s always been the most conservative in your circle of friends.

After a disappointed frown was sent over Sicheng, Yuta’s attention moves onto the man by him. “Oh, hey Jaehyun! How about you?”

“W-what?” Jaehyun looks over with a flustered expression and you were sure by now that he had been watching.

“Take a body shot with [Y/N]!”

He hesitates, eyes drifting towards you. 

“Come on, Jaehyun! Summer is here, you gotta loosen up! It’s rare enough for her to invite guys to do body shots, but it’s even rarer for you to be at parties!” When Jaehyun doesn’t move, Yuta steps away from you to go over to him and drag him over. “You guys know each other right?”

“Of course, who doesn’t know our university’s golden boy?” You drawl, tilting your head to the side.

Jaehyun continues to blush, “Uhm, yeah, we went to the same elementary before.”

This makes you gawk at him, trying to remember his face from years ago. “We were?!”

He’s a bit disheartened to know you didn’t know that fact, but nods his head to confirm.

“Enough chitchat, take a shot, [Y/N]. Maybe it’ll help you jog your memory.” Yuta pushes Jaehyun towards you.

“Yuta, stop.” You groan, “Stop forcing others to take shots with me. Besides, I wouldn’t want to ruin the image of our golden boy.”

“I-” Jaehyun chokes out before Yuta can complain, “I don’t mind. I’ve just never done a body shot before.”

“Well lucky for you, I consider myself an expert.” You place a hand on his shoulder and lightly urge him to stand in between your legs. You bite back a knowing grin when Jaehyun’s gaze lingers at the sight of your bare thighs, curious eyes wondering what it looked like beneath the folds of your dress. “Would you mind if I did the shot on you?”

He shakes his head, finally bringing his eyes up to yours. “Not at all, do as you like.”

“As I like?” You grinned widely, glancing briefly at Yuta who is equally amused. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, man, Jaehyun, what I would give to be in your place.”

“Why? How do you like your body shots?”

Instead of answering, you pop the few buttons of his dress shirt until his collarbones are exposed. He didn’t seem to complain, but you can feel his body go rigid from your touch. “Relax, okay? I like my shots with salt on your collarbone, tequila in the dips above your clavicle, and a peeled lime wedge in your mouth.”

“In... my mouth?”

You nod your head, “Are you sure I can have it my way?”

“Y-yeah...” He mumbles and you honestly didn’t expect that response.

While Yuta cheers him on, you prepare for your shot; instructing him to tense up his shoulders so the dip between the base of his throat and collarbone can be deep enough to hold a shot. You pour the alcohol into the small well of his body and placed salt in the other. Quickly peeling a lime wedge, you pop it into his mouth, not missing the harsh breath he exhales.

“Here I go.” You whisper into his ear before ducking down, licking up the salt you placed. You felt him shiver, but you continue to the other side, slurping up the tequila. You throw your head back to let the alcohol burn down your throat, cupping Jaehyun’s cheeks to pull him closer. You slip your tongue between his lips, searching for the lime wedge you fed him, but was met with only the sour juice it produces.

With a weak indignant noise from your throat, you coaxed his tongue into yours; gently sucking the wet muscle and stripping it of the flavors of the fruit. His hands have settled on your hips, gripping tightly whenever you tried to take control of the kiss. Your hands have slithered over his shoulders, amazed at how broad they were and how the muscles beneath his shirt felt firm.

If it wasn’t for the rude wolf whistle from god know who, you wouldn’t have pulled away from Jaehyun’s lips.

“Sorry, I juiced the lime in my mouth.” He says, a little out of breath.

“Don’t be. I think I liked that better.” You whisper back.

Yuta snorts, reminding both of you that he was still very much present. “Well, I know when I’m not wanted. That was hot, by the way, I should have recorded it.”

“Ew, Yuta.” You grimaced at him, but he only laughs at you, walking away to wherever.

Jaehyun moves his thumbs around, drawing circles on your hips and bringing your attention back to him. His eyes are dark and glazed over, “Do you want head upstairs?”

Your lips quirk up into a smirk, “Sure.”

It didn’t take long for the two of you to find an unoccupied bedroom and have Jaehyun hovering over your frame. He straddles your hips, gliding a hand over your abdomen to feel your dress’ fabric.

“This is practically a night gown.” He remarks.

“That’s because it is.” You giggle. When your roommate had reminded you of the party, you were already dressed down to enjoy your Netflix marathon that would eventually bore you to sleep. You didn’t think you were out to impress anyone so you threw on a denim jacket over your pink satin nightie, slipped on your sneakers, applied some lip gloss, and deemed yourself ready. “Had I known I was seducing the university’s golden boy, I would have dressed more accordingly.”

“Oh no, this is fine, this is,” He starts to push your denim jacket off your shoulders and you sit up a bit to take it off, “Hot. God, none of my wet dreams about you can compare to this.”

“About me?” This knocks out the flirty tone of your voice and is replaced by genuine surprise.

“I’ve always liked you, [Y/N]. Since we were kids. I changed my name a few years back--I’m Yoonoh.”

"You were the fat back then!” You blurted out, recoiling a bit when Jaehyun’s expression falls flat. “Wait, no! Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way, but you were! Damn! Puberty has been kind to you.”

“I can say the same to you.” His hand travels up your chest, lightly brushing his palm over them. “I was always curious about your tattoos, you know.”

You hum, “I only have one. People keep adding non-existent tattoos on me.”

“What is it?”

“Why don’t you look for it?”

His eyes glint, accepting the challenge. He hooks his fingers to the flimsy straps of your dress and drag them down your arms, low enough until it exposes your boobs and he lets out a soft groan. He takes a breast into each hand, softly palming them. 

“So the rumors about you getting your nipples pierce are fake?” He brings his mouth over one of them, lightly licking your nub while his fingers tweaked the other.

A gasp escapes you, “Oh, I got a piercing, and you can go find that one, too. It’s not that far from the tattoo.”

He peeks at you through his lashes, chuckling a bit. He pushes the skirt of your nightie up until he exposes your belly, expecting to see the piercing but is dumbfounded to see it absent. “What?”

You bite down a laugh when you see his eyes travel lower, finally spotting your tattoo just above the garter of your panties.

“Eat up.” You read the tattoo for him. You got it after losing to a dare with your roommate. She chose where and what to put, but at least you were able to decide the design; keeping it simple with a san-serif typeface.

It makes him smirk, the quirk of his lips bringing out his famed dimple onto his cheek. But then it dawns him: the piercing.

He looks at you in silent affirmation of his suspicion, but you only bite down on your lip and lift your hips up so he could get your panties off.

Once they slid off your legs and tossed aside, his eyes see it: the small pearl-like gray metal piercing on your clit.

“Shit, that’s so hot.” Jaehyun sighs, gently sweeping the pad of his thumb over it.

Your hips buck up involuntarily at the stimulation, “It feels good, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Not only for me,” You rest back on the pillow and spread your legs wider for him. “I heard it feels nice on tongues, too.”

He snickers, running his hands over your thighs. “Is that so?”

You nod, raising your hips up, not caring if you’re starting to look a little desperate. “Hmm, so why don’t you try, Jae?” You find yourself mischievously grinning, “Eat up.”

-

a/n: iM SORRY I HAD TO STOP ASLKDJALSKDJLASKJASKL MY WHOREMONES ARE GOING CRAZY

[drewbarymore]

the ugly emotion

Summary: You feel something that starts with a j and ends with ealousy but don’t want to admit it.

Word Count: 3.2k+

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warning(s): j-ealousy

a/n: ngl the title’s from b99 lol and honestly i feel like this is uhh off bc ive been off for the past week(s) but hey hello. also this was typed up on my laptop so idk how fucked up it’ll look on mobile but i honestly have no expectations at this point. also i saw something about the keep reading feature not working on mobile so im sorry in advance for the people who would scroll through this whole ass thing i swear i tried

It's unnecessary.

Whatever this is you're feeling right now, you know it only ever brings miscommunication and unwarranted fights in relationships, or at least that's the case from what you've seen.

You hate yourself for feeling this way, even more so as you think of Bucky—how good of a partner he is and how he makes you feel. You almost want to walk over to him and tell him you're sorry, if only the feeling isn't so unapologetic itself, rooting you to the ground and twisting your insides.

You look away, sighing and knowing that it's only a matter of seconds before you're looking in their direction again, torturing yourself even further.

This is dumb, this is stupid, this is unnecessary, it's childish, it's very unhealthy.

"Hey, babydoll." And then he's wrapping his arms around you and kissing your temple, and suddenly the ugly feeling dissipates, and your thoughts quiet down, even the ones you're using to counter the negative ones. It always feels like this in his arms—serene, calm, like everything wrong in your world's suddenly gone.

"Hey," you turn your head to look at him, smiling as you raise your hands and cradle his face with it.

"How you doin'?" he asks, hand automatically coming up to your waist, exactly where the huge bruise is forming from a pretty bad hit you took on your last mission.

"Good," you lie, "what about—"

Before you can finish your sentence, a knock on the clear glass wall separating the room you're in and the office for the other SHIELD agents outside sounds around the room, drawing your attention to the already open door.

"Sorry," she says apologetically, her eyes on you before turning to Bucky. "Buck, it's time to go."

Buck. You almost scoff at the nickname, but you swallow it down, hands falling from his face to your sides. You hate the way it rolls off her tongue, all smooth and beautiful sounding with a voice that could pretty much make the most ridiculous things sound alluring. You don't dare think of what Bucky thinks of it, how he must really like how it sounds. How it may not be just a stupid nickname of an already-nickname anymore, like how it probably does when you say it.

"It's alright," He smiles at her, and your heart plummets to your feet.

You want to yell out no, that it's not okay. She interrupted the first time you've talked in almost a week with all of these missions and planning and—

You plaster a smile on your face just as he turns to you, nodding.

This is dumb, this is stupid, this is unnecessary, it's childish, it's very unhealthy.

She's smart, beautiful, and a damn good agent. You have no reason to be rude to her. It's not her fault they were partnered up because you couldn't go. Because you took a lot of bad hits from last week's mission and you needed to rest. Because you're not really half as good as her, and if you were, you wouldn't have been injured. Because you—

"'Kay, baby, I need you to be our eye, okay? Need you to be lookin' 'round the area through the cameras while we follow our guy around.”

You hate how he's talking to you, absolutely fuming from it. He doesn't talk to her that way. Or anyone for that matter. He doesn't talk to anyone like they're five-year-olds who needed extremely dumbed down instructions, like he can't use big tactical words because you won't understand.

You want to push him off you, push him to her and tell them to get the fuck on with it while you wait in the surveillance room like a dumb piece of—

You nod, smiling at him tersely, and then turning your gaze to look at her to do the same.

"We'll be quick. This is a stakeout more than anything. Annissa's good at this, right?" He looks over at her and smiles again.

And suddenly you don't know what you hate more, the way he talks to you or the way he talks to her.

You step away from him, looking down as you gather your things. "Okay. I'll be there. You two should get going." you say, trying to even out your voice as much as possible.

You smile at the both of them one more time before walking out of the room, half of it because you don't want to be in the same vicinity as the two of them anymore, and half of it because you don't want Bucky catching on. You can't risk him knowing what you feel. It's stupid and childish and ugly. This is a mission, not a goddamn situation planned out solely to cause you to be...jealous. God, the thought of the word alone makes you want to gag. The world doesn't revolve around you or your relationship.

It's not a personal attack against your insecurities, it's a mission. Or at least that's what you try to remind yourself as you watch them get in a cafe. The very same one you and Bucky frequent in your days off.

"Woah, it's pretty...dark in here," Wanda says as she enters the room, making you turn around in your chair and look at her.

You blink at her. "The lights are on."

"I'm not talking lights, sweetie." She smiles tauntingly, gesturing to you. "It's your...aura."

"First of all, don't sweetie me. Second, no it's not." You roll your eyes, turning back to the screens in front of you.

"Ah," she draws out, taking a seat next to you. You side-eye her, seeing her eyes glued to the screen. "I see."

You cross your arms, setting your blank gaze onto the screen and blatantly ignoring her comment.

"Actually you know what, I take it back," she turns her whole body to you, squinting her eyes, "your aura isn't dark. It's more...green."

"You need to stop pausing right before saying another word." you quip.

"And you need to stop steering the conversation away from you." she counters.

"Alright," you sigh, "it's your day off, right? Go get out and get some sun or something."

Her smile widens. "Don't want to. Planned on having a day in with you, so here I am."

"Where's Nat?"

"Got sent out somewhere, too." She shrugs.

You nod, watching as they get out of the cafe and out of the cameras' scope. You sit up in alarm. Bucky said they would stay where the cameras could see them.

You hear a giggle from beside you, and you realize your mistake. You clear your throat, leaning back down on your chair, eyes still darting around the screen. You suppress the sigh of relief that threatens to come out when you see them on another street. They probably just followed their guy.

"It's okay, Y/N," Wanda says, "you can breathe."

"Stop it." you warn her.

She laughs. "Look, it's completely okay to be jealous—"

"I'm not jealous. It's immature and dumb and there's no need for it. This is a mission, this is not about me or us. He's just doing his job, it's not his fault that he got partnered up with someone else because I was stupid the last time and needed to recover—"

"Okay, hey. Hey," Wanda grabs your arm, stopping you from you rant. "It's okay. I understand."

You sigh, closing your eyes. "It's just...he always does everything he can to make sure I don't feel insecure about our relationship, and I feel like I'm failing to do my part when I get—when I get this ugly feeling. I'm trying, but I don't think I'm...I don't know, mature enough, I guess, for this."

She grows quiet for a minute, absorbing what you just said.

"I know you're trying, and I'm sure he does, too. But sometimes, emotions just are. Sometimes they're so strong, you can't really do much about it. You try to control them, it blows back up in your face." she says, running her hand up and down your arm.

You open your eyes again, looking at the monitor, hoping that now that you've voiced out your feelings, its burden has gotten a little lighter. 

It takes you a moment to find which box on the screen they are, but when you do, you see them leaning towards each other and then laughing about something. The twisting in your gut returns, and you don't know whether to laugh or cry in absolute annoyance or curl up in despair.

It's childish and stupid and irrational, but it's there and you can't seem to get rid of it unless you exploded.

"You know what, I'll take over from here," Wanda offers, holding your arm back, as if what she's seeing convinced her that you would go and tear down the monitors in front of you. You don't really know what you look like right now, but knowing what you're feeling, hell, it's very probable that that's what you look like.

Still, you try to fight it. "That's ridiculous, it's your day off—"

"It's not like I'm gonna do much other than just sit here and look around this screen," she interrupts.

"What are you gonna tell him when he comes back and sees you instead of me?" you ask, actually considering her offer the longer you look at the small box in the screen with them in it.

"I'll tell him you're not feeling good," she says.

"Nothing about this?" You turn to her, looking her straight in the eyes.

"What's between us is only between us." She raises a hand in promise, looking straight back at you.

You sigh, standing up and gathering your things once again. She stands up herself, pulling you into an unexpected hug. You're stiff in surprise for a split second before you're melting into it, wrapping your arms around her.

"Talk about it with him, okay?" she says, pulling back.

You heave out a sigh once again. "I don't know. He might think it's dumb. Hell, it is dumb. I'll get over it," you mumble.

She looks at you pointedly. "This is Bucky we're talking about, nothing you say will ever be stupid to him."

You roll your eyes fondly. "I guess."

"Now, go get some rest." She taps your shoulder.

"Thank you so much for this." You smile at her, turning to walk away.

You plop down onto your bed, as soon as you get into your room, groaning when your bruises come in contact with the mattress. You will yourself to get up and change into more comfortable clothes. After the stress of today, you decide you're going to take a nap. Naps never fail to make you feel better. This shouldn't be an exception.

Except that it is.

The longer you lay down under the covers, staring at the ceiling, the more you think about what Bucky's up to right this second. You push the thought of texting him to the farthest corner of your mind. You can't risk distracting him and possibly jeopardizing their mission just because you can't make your own mind shut up.

You turn on your side, extending your arm to where he usually lays, running your fingers through the sheets like an idiot. You feel around for your phone, opening it and typing up, 'I miss you,' before turning it off in defeat.

"That's stupid and clingy." you say out loud, not really caring that you're basically talking to yourself.

"Just go do the laundry and get your shit together." you tell yourself, standing up towards the hamper to sort the clothes out.

You carry basket after basket of it to the laundry room, wincing every time they hit your bruises, but welcoming the distraction it brings anyway. You sit down on the floor as soon as you load the first batch in, leaning your head against the wall and finally, finally feeling exhaustion pull at you.

You jump when you hear the beeping of the washer, looking around in a disoriented haze. You curse when you look outside only to see the setting sun. How long have you been in here? You transfer the first batch into the dryer before deciding to get out and possibly get something to eat.

"Doll!"

You jump for the second time since you woke up, looking to the direction the voice is coming from and seeing Bucky jogging over to you. And just like that, the blissful moment of not remembering anything right after waking up is gone. Your heart still thumps in excitement upon seeing him, but there's also apprehension.

Are the two of you still okay? Did the mission somehow change his mind about you?

"I've been looking everywhere for you. Wanda said you weren't feeling good." He immediately feels your forehead, pulling you close to kiss it after. You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"You okay, baby?" he asks, leaning his forehead against yours.

"Yeah, just accidentally slept in the laundry room," you reply. "How was the mission?"

"Just fine," he says, pulling away to drag you to the elevator. "Annissa did a really great job. Don't think she really needed a partner."

"Oh." was all you could say. You pull your hand away from his, making a show of leaning against the cold metal of the elevator and closing your eyes just as he turns to look at you.

You feel him inch closer, wrapping his arms around you and leaning his head on your shoulder. "I missed you today."

"Missed you too." you whisper, shutting your eyes tighter, not really trusting your voice not to break if you speak louder than that.

You walk out first when the elevator dings, going straight to your room. He follows behind you quietly, and you don't doubt he's already studying you, thinking about what's wrong, and you will yourself to stop acting and feeling this way but you can't. You want to be alone, even if when he wasn't here just yet, all you wanted was for him to come home, and now that he is, you want him to stay as far away from you as possible, and you hate it.

It's irrational and stupid and asking for the impossible, but it's still there.

"Are we okay, babydoll?" he asks, voice a little weaker, a little less sure as he wraps his arms around you from behind, nuzzling his face into your neck.

"Yeah," you reply, absentmindedly rearranging things on your vanity mirror. You feel his eyes on you through the mirror, but you don't meet them, afraid that yours would sell you out more than the rest of you is already doing.

"Are you gonna tell me the truth?" he says, and you can feel his lips moving against your skin, and damn if it doesn't make you weak. But before you could reply to him, his phone's dinging from his pocket.

You try to stop yourself, but as soon as he brings it out and looks over it, your eyes are on it too. You immediately regret it as soon as you read Annissa’s name. The ugly feeling practically cackles from inside you as it rears its head for the nth time that day.

The words are out before you could think them through, "I think she still needs you."

There's an edge to it. It's not casual or normal sounding by any means, and you hate it. He freezes in his spot and you take that as an opportunity to step away from him again, but he stops you, using one arm to scoop you up in his hold once again.

"Baby," he breathes as you struggle to get out of his grip, "are you—are you jealous?"

“No.” you grumble.

“’S my babydoll jealous, hmm?” he asks again, and you can practically feel him smiling against your skin as he swings you from side to side in his arms.

"No I'm not. Stop laughing," you say through gritted teeth. The word coming out of him and the slight laughter in his voice makes you realize even further how stupid this all is. How stupid you are.

“’M not laughing babe, just can’t believe you’d think that. Look at me, please," he says, turning you around in his arms.

"No." You close your eyes, embarrassed by the tears welling up on them.

"Baby—fuck I should've known. I knew something was wrong when you walked out before we went. Fuck, I'm sorry—"

"This is not your fault," you choke out, "I'm-I'm the one being stupid. This is stupid, Buck. I'll get over it."

"No it's not. If it's making you feel this way, it's not stupid." he coaxes, taking your face in between his hands and pressing his forehead to yours.

"It's not healthy, okay? I'm not supposed to feel this way, I— you're doing your best to make sure I don't feel this way, but I still do, and I'm sorry,"

"Hey, hey, shh. Look at me baby," he runs a thumb on your cheek, "open your eyes, angel." he says it in the softest voice, like he usually does with you and only you, and you shut your eyes tighter, hating that you even painted that very same softness earlier as being patronizing when he was just being sweet like he usually is to you. And he's still sweet, so sweet to you even if you're shutting him out because of a stupid feeling.

"Babydoll, please..."

And you finally cave, opening your eyes, his own soft blue ones being the sight that greets you.

"There's my girl." He smiles, kissing your nose.

"Don’t stay it’s stupid, ‘cause it’s not, alright? I get mopey all the time and you’re always so patient with me," he says, “you have nothing to be jealous of, doll. It’s only you for me.”

You sigh, holding his wrists in your hands. "I'm sorry. I don't wanna be clingy...or a crazy girlfriend, I just—I don't know." You turn around, fixing the covers strewn around your bed.

He wraps his arms around you, making sure he's not pressing on any of your bruises before he lifts you up and puts you gently down onto the bed where he presses you to his body and wraps you up in the blankets.

"I don't care if you're clingy, or a crazy girlfriend, or a crazy-clingy girlfriend. Hell, even if you're a controlling and possessive girlfriend, as long as it's a you girlfriend." he says, nuzzling his face into your hair.

"That's toxic, Buck—"

"Shh," he interrupts softly, kissing the nape of your neck, "don't overthink what I said. The gist of it is that I love you," he lifts his head up to press small kisses on your cheek, "I love you," he repeats, drawing his words out.

You giggle from the feeling of his scruff and light kisses, feeling incredibly lighter than you did pretty much the whole day. The two of you grow silent for a minute, admiring the oranges and reds that paint the sky as the sun sets and simply basking in the presence of each other, one you both have missed for the past week.

You turn your head to look at him moments later, pressing a kiss on his chin. "I mean it though, that kinda thinking's toxic, Bucky. I don't want you ending up with that kind of person one day."

"Good thing I'm ending up with you, then." he says it so nonchalantly, like he just didn't tell you he's thinking that far ahead. That he sees you with him that far ahead.

"You think that?" you ask, voice growing smaller and softer, more expectant, and he only smiles at you, pressing the tip of his nose to yours.

"I know that."

@iamafishandigosplish @vaguelyminty @goldenkillmonger @ejspencer14 @seargantbcky @tinyfistwarrior @ruthyalva96 @pcterpvrker @bekah-mikaelsxn

[transmasc-malleus]

Hey uhhhhh rant time

Sorry I’m on mobile so no read more

Living in this house is literally killing us. I didn’t think it would be this bad but we’re both sinking into a depression. My gf never goes downstairs and would rather starve herself than interact in any capacity with my grandma. I don’t blame her. I’m at the point where I’m resenting HER for things my grandma caused. I’m bitter that I’m the one who has to deal with it all, who has to fight her to eat, who has to cook and clean and beg her to leave the house. But I know it’s not her fault. This is her way of coping with an impossible situation, a situation she moved half a country away from when she left home. And here she is dealing with it again, except she’s actually afraid to speak back bc she fears the rest of the house will hate her. And I feel the same. It’s not worth my mental and emotional well-being to argue with my grandma or even just try to shut her down. It’ll just cause more problems. But having to sit there as she TRIES to rile me up, tries to get me to fight, tries to hurt me with what she says....is almost worse. The manipulation and the hurtful things she says, the way she aggressively dismisses me and acts like I’m an idiot. I just can’t anymore.

I don’t even want to hang out with my dad anymore bc all I talk about is how I can’t deal with her and it’s not fair to him when he KNOWS all this. But his only solution- one that only works for him cause she actually respects him somewhat- is to ignore her or shut it down. But unless I lose all of my self control, which I will one day, I’ll never be able to get the words out bc I’ve been conditioned not to through abuse. But now she’s threatening things that have no way of understanding her. Angrily suggesting I declaw my cat bc she acts like a living being instead of a stuffed cat. Yelling at my cat at every turn. Blaming every small thing on my cat bc I’m never around enough for her to blame things on me. Having her act like we don’t contribute to the household bc in her eyes “we’re selfish” for not always cooking dinner for everyone, or for wanting certain food to be ours only. I’m at my fucking wits end with her. But my gf is becoming too depressed to even leave the house. And it fucking infuriated me that she feels trapped in this tiny room because my grandma can’t learn to give us even a hint of respect. The fact that the woman I love has to stay confined and starving bc it’s too triggering for her to listen to the shit my grandma spews. The fact that the woman I love is having psychotic breakdowns again bc of the stress being in this shit hole causes her. It makes me want to pack up our shit and tell my grandma to go fuck herself and never talk to me again.

But we don’t have the money, we don’t have the means. So we’re stuck here. We’re stuck here and no one understands why we want to move out so desperately. I just want to scream that it’s all her fault and that I wish she had never had the chance to even interact with me as a child. I want to get angry and MAKE her understand that this has nothing to do with my gf and I. It’s not that we’re “too sensitive” or think we’re “special snowflakes” it’s HER and her fucking inability to give a single shit about anyone but herself. It’s her and her beef with us bc we don’t agree on anything. It’s her and her narcissism. Her and her abuse. Just like it was HER fault that I wanted to kill myself- I was just too blind and too manipulated by her to truly see it. She always blamed me so it must’ve been my fault. It must’ve been my selfishness. I must’ve wanted to tear the family apart. But not fucking anymore. Im not going to let ANYONE on this fucking house tell me how to deal with her. I’m not gonna let them tell me that I’m being unreasonable or passive aggressively act like I’m the bad guy. Im not gonna let my uncle make me feel bad for treating her with the same respect she gives me. I’m not gonna let my dad tell me “he wishes I could just learn to ignore her”. I’m fucking done I’m over it. We pay rent. There is not fucking reason we should be treated like children getting a free pass through housing.

There’s no reason I should have to shut my mouth and clench my fists to suit her needs. No reason I should have other people shut down what I’m saying bc “I just wanna start shit.” I should’ve gave to seeth in anger and start shaking from anxiety just to keep the peace. Why should I placate her when she starts every. Single. Thing. Why should I be the one to suffer because she can’t fucking shut her mouth for one fucking second if people aren’t paying enough attention to her. Why should I just let her call me fat and sensitive and just take her abuse? Why do I have to feel like I should be ashamed? Why am I ashamed to stand up to her? I just don’t know how much longer until I snap and then I really become the bad guy because I’ll go at her without any restraint. How much longer until I can’t take it anymore and I scream and cry in her face laying out everything she’s done to hurt me and keep me in my place only to have her call my a snowflake and go running to my dad? How long until I’m the one whose asked if it was worth it and I’ll feel too afraid to say yes. Dad said to my gf that he would choose me over him mom every time. He would kick her out before he would ever dream of kicking me out. But honestly. I don’t know if I believe that. I don’t know if I can trust my dad to have my back. And that fucking hurts. It hurts to feel like I’m always the bad guy by default. That I’m always the one escalating. It hurts that I get blamed for my reaction to her. That it’s ok for her to act this way bc she’s old and she won’t change. I don’t deserve this. My gf doesn’t deserve this. And I’m fucking done. I won’t placate anyone’s feelings. I won’t let her stomp walk all over me bc she knows I won’t do anything. I don’t care anymore. If I’m seen as the bad guy, if I’m seen as the instigator. I don’t fucking care. I’m doing this for me. I’m the only one whose gonna stand up for myself in this house. And if that causes tension? Fuck it. I don’t deserve to live in constant fear and anxiety. If that makes everyone else uncomfortable they can go fuck themselves for letting it get this far. I’m not gonna take it anymore. From now on I’m not fucking around. Im gonna take that anger and I’m gonna let her feel it. Let her know that she’s a monster that made me like this. I don’t deserve this.

[elsaclack]

This is really random but I saw a fic of yours about Amy being sick (I think the prompt was "Amy yells at the Vulture") but I can't find the full piece anywhere. Is it on AO3 anywhere? I love your writing and I completely understand if you just didn't want it out anymore. Just thought I'd ask! :)

i thought it was but i just went and searched my entire work history (including all 70+ chapters of those god-forsaken oneshot collections) and i couldn’t find it anywhere!! i guess i forgot to cross-post it back when i first wrote it, and it got lost when i deleted the original elsaclack. but i just scoured my docs list and found it buried in a random folder so i’ll repost it here and add it to the newest one-shot collection on ao3 :)

fun fact: this was written almost exactly 2 years ago!!! meaning that my writing skills have developed considerably since i actually wrote this. aka please don’t judge me if this seems like a sudden regression haha

also i wanna tag @phil-the-stone-art bc we actually developed the concept of The List together so she’s at least 35% responsible for this fic lmao

under the cut!

Amy Santiago does not get sick, thank you very much. She prides herself on her meticulous nightly hygienic rituals, on the cabinet full of multivitamins and minerals she takes on a daily basis in her bathroom, on the rigorous workout routine and diet she keeps herself on each week to maintain perfect health. She lives her life by a very tight plan (laid out in checklists and carefully organized in color-coded binders) that simply does not afford her any extra time to be sick.

Which is why, when she wakes up one Tuesday morning with a head stuffed full of cotton and violent shivers rolling down her spine, she gets up to start her usual routine in spite of the fact that she feels like she hasn’t actually slept in three weeks. Jake’s still snoring on the other side of the bed, another hour away from getting up to haphazardly dress in whatever flannel he can find lying on her bedroom floor that doesn’t smell too dirty, and he doesn’t even stir at the sound of her shuffling footsteps or running nose.

She drags herself into the bathroom, shuts the door, and flicks the lights on. Her reflection honestly makes her jump back an inch or two; she’s never seen her skin quite so pale, or bruises beneath her eyes quite so dark, or her lips quite so visibly dry and cracked. She reaches out to grip the edges of her sink and realizes that her arms and hands are trembling, and when she leans a bit more weight onto them she notes that her knees are quaking beneath her.

All in all, not a great start to the day.

She presses on, though, ignoring her running nose and congested head and general exhaustion. The shower helps a little, but not much.

When she shuts the water off, she hears Jake moving around in her bedroom, and her heart skips a beat. She hadn’t even realized she’d been in the shower that long. “Jake?” She calls as she wraps a towel around herself. Her voice is coarse and rough.

“Hey,” he knocks lightly at the door. “You okay?”

“Yeah - yeah, could you, um…there’s a binder out on the dining room table, should say something on the cover about that case I was working on last night -” she clears her throat and winces at the sharp pain that responds “- could you grab it and put it in my bag?”

“Sure,” he’s quiet for a moment and Amy’s left to gently rub at her temples with the heels of her hands. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound awful.”

“I’m…I’m fine.”

But she’s not. Her knees are still quaking and vertigo has suddenly set in and she’s swaying, reaching out to grab the tiled edge of her shower. Her hand slips against the wet surface and she falls forward, shoulder banging painfully into the tiles.

The door swings open and Jake bursts inside in a panic. “Ames? Oh my God!” She suddenly realizes that she’d sunk down to a crouching position upon falling. He kneels next to her, gently pulling her away from the shower and letting her lean heavily into him. Her head falls against his shoulder, forehead pressed to the crook of his neck, and she hears him tut. “You’re burning up, babe,” he says quietly.

“I’m fine,” her voice fails half-way through and she ends up finishing in an unconvincing whisper.

“You’re not going to work today,” he tells her.

“But -”

“You almost fainted just now, Amy. You’re staying home sick today.”

She tries to argue but he pulls her up off the ground, keeping his touch firm and steady should gravity leave her again, and her voice completely dies on the way out of the bathroom. He lets her whisper weak arguments as he steers her gently toward the bed, humming and nodding along as he pulls fresh sweatpants up her legs and eases one of his academy shirts over her head. He pushes back on her good shoulder with just enough force that she lays down and pulls the comforter up to her chin. Her eyelids flutter closed when he presses a kiss against her forehead.

“I’ll tell Captain Holt where you are,” he says quietly. His hand finds hers against the mattress, fingers twisting through hers. “Get some sleep, okay?”

She’s asleep before he even gets out the front door.

A few hours later she’s roused by the sound of her phone vibrating on her bedside table. Sunlight streams in through her window and she squints, disoriented, fumbling around with semi-numb fingers for her phone.

From: Jake PeraltaHow u feelin? Miss u at work. Charles says he’ll bring u goat soup later lol

It hurts to even swallow, and Amy has to work really hard to keep from whining at the splitting headache igniting behind her right eye.

To: Jake PeraltaFeel like garbage. I haev a headache. Im afraid to get out of bed for meds. Miss u too

She waits five minutes for him to respond, and when her phone remains motionless, she closes her eyes and lets it fall against her chest.

Precisely twenty minutes after that, she hears her front door open. It closes again and she hears footsteps crossing her living room and it only just hits her that someone is in her apartment when those footsteps cross the threshold of her bedroom.

“Hey, hey, don’t get out of bed,” Jake says soothingly. Amy falls back against her pillow from her struggling half-sitting up position as Jake drops a plastic grocery bag at the foot of her bed and perches on the edge of the mattress beside her. He replaces her phone back on her bedside table with one hand and smooths his other palm over her forehead (and she only just then realizes that she’s sweating) and grimaces. “You’re still burning up,” he says, running his fingers through her hair just above her forehead.

“I’m fine,” she whispers, and the words slip out between two wet coughs.

He frowns and gently scratches his short nails against her scalp. “I brought Advil,” he says, casting an absent glance over his shoulder at the bag he brought in, “and stuff to make soup. It’s the recipe for Nana’s matzoh ball soup.” She raises her eyebrows beneath his palm and he grins down at her. “Don’t tell Charles, but it’s literally the best soup you’ll ever have and it’ll cure your dumb cold in twenty minutes or less.”

“Promise?”

He leans down and pecks a kiss against her forehead. “Promise,” he says when he leans away. “I’m gonna go make some and bring it in here and you’ll be back on your feet before the end of the day. Peralta Guarantee.” He winks.

She sinks down into the mattress as much as she can when he stands up, opening her eyes only when he comes back in with two Advil tablets and a glass half-full of water. Within minutes she begins hearing pots and pans knock around in her kitchen, and through her cloudy mind she registers that her stomach is rumbling in irritation.

“Alright,” he announces from her doorway. Her eyes split open and he’s carefully balancing the soup bowl on top of her dresser. “I’ll help you sit up, don’t move.”

He pulls her up with one hand and waits until she’s sitting up steadily before hurriedly stacking her pillows up behind her. She breathes a sigh of relief when she leans back, not realizing just how much of a strain sitting up is until that moment. He hurries back to where the soup is still steaming and carefully brings it over to her, the tip of his tongue appearing at the corner of his mouth for how hard he has to concentrate on not spilling any.

He nestles it in her lap, and she smiles, because he looks so proud of himself and he’s really so adorable.

Jake stays with her until she finishes the whole bowl and then he takes her dishes from her and quickly rinses them out in her sink.

“I’ll be back after work to check on you and to finish cleaning that, okay?” He calls from her doorway.

She hums hoarsely and fades out of consciousness.

An hour later, Amy wakes up feeling half-human. Her head and throat still hurt and she still can’t breathe out of her nose, but her brain doesn’t feel quite so fried and her limbs don’t feel quite so weak anymore.

Jake was right - the soup really did help.

Not as much as Nyquil would, but…still.

She kicks the comforter off and moves to sit up, and her phone suddenly falls into her lap from her chest. She pauses, staring at it, trying to remember when it ended up back there. She has no new calls or texts, but when she unlocks the screen, there’s a new note pulled up.

Things i want t odo to jake in bed

Amy feels flames engulf her face that have absolutely nothing to do with her fever. The list has twelve items on it, each one raunchier and riddled with more spelling errors than the last, and by the time she gets to the end of the note she’s covering her face in embarrassment. She’s got just the vaguest memory of typing it (and it’s really more of a dream of a memory than anything else), but none of it will solidify into more than just faint snapshots in her head.

But the more she rereads it, the more heat begins building in her body - heat from the mental images, heat from the germs ravaging her body, heat from the thick comforter still draped over her legs.

She has got to go get some Nyquil.

Santiago Determination blazes through her as she drags herself out of bed, shoulders set and jaw clenched as she pulls one of Jake’s hoodies over her frame and slides her feet into her rarely-worn flip-flops. Part of her feels guilty, knowing that if Jake was the one home sick she’d insist on him texting her anything he needs so that he would stay in bed and recover faster, but she brushes it off as she grabs her purse.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

She blames her scattered brain on the matzoh ball soup later. She blames her compromised detective skills and her lack of attention to detail and her general disorientation on the soup. Because under normal circumstances, no matter how sick she truly is, she would definitely have noticed the Vulture browsing the low aisles of the bodega around the corner from her house immediately upon walking through the front doors.

But as it is, she doesn’t, which means that he gets a visual on her before she’s even aware of being spotted.

She’s so busy perusing the medicine section toward the back that she doesn’t notice him stalking around the shelves, doesn’t feel him peeking around the Doctor Scholl’s cardboard display, doesn’t hear him mutter at a mother and daughter to get out of his way as he follows her ambling walk down the aisle. She isn’t aware of the danger until he’s basically on top of her.

“Yo, Santiago,” he says, his voice low and curdling. She winces and turns slowly, and he’s leaned against the shelves to her left, leering down at her. A handcart hangs between them; it’s full of at least thirty boxes of condoms, she realizes when she glances down. Her stomach shifts unpleasantly. “You look homeless.”

“Get out of the way,” she whispers hoarsely.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Peralta got you screaming so hard every night you lost your voice?”

Heat bursts through her cheeks and she glances back, meeting the scandalized look on that same mother’s face with an apologetic grimace. “Shut up.” She snaps as fiercely as she can.

He smirks, because her voice only comes in bursts. “Damn, you really let yourself go, didn’t you?” His eyes rove her body and she’s suddenly very keenly aware of the fact that she’s not wearing any underwear beneath her sweatpants. She can feel her face blossoming.

“Whatever.” She turns away quickly and digs her phone out of her purse, cursing when she hears the Vulture following her down the aisle. She dials Jake’s number quickly, and he answers after just two rings.

“Hey, is everything oka-”

“I need you go come to the bodega by my apartment,” she whispers. She can feel her hand trembling again and she curses whatever part of her thought it would be a good idea to do this on her own.

“Wait, what? Why are you -”

“I thought I could walk over here and get what I needed without you, but -” she winces at the sound of the Vulture’s laugh, loud and obnoxious behind her. “But I ran into someone and I need you to come save me.”

“Santiago, look - they do make extra-small condoms! Should I put a whole box in for you and Peralta or is that too many?”

She hears a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Is that the Vulture?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Do not faint.”

“I’m doing my best, but please hurry.”

Amy starts pacing up and down the aisles, doing her best to block the Vulture out. He trails along behind her, alternating between making lewd sexual innuendos about random items on the shelves they pass (“Everything’s a sex toy if you try hard enough,” while pointing out a plastic broom) and insulting her general appearance (“Y’know, you were much sexier before Peralta dragged you down to his level of ugliness. Just make sure your ass doesn’t get as fat as his”). It’s around the time they make it back to the medicine aisle that he turns to making fun of Jake himself.

“I still can’t believe you’re with that loser,” he laughs as Amy finally swipes a bottle of Nyquil off a lower shelf. She stands up slowly, gripping the shelves above her firmly, as a wave of vertigo hits her once again. “You’re hot as shit usually - not right now, obviously - I bet you could sleep with any guy you want.”

She clenches her jaw and tries to calculate how long it’s been since she hung up with Jake.

“I bet the sex is really boring, too,” the Vulture continues. “I bet it’s all missionary and full of, like, eye-contact and shit. I bet he tells you he loves you because you don’t make fun of his tiny weiner.”

“Okay, y’know what?” She snaps, and suddenly her voice is half back. “First of all, there’s nothing wrong with missionary if you do it right. Secondly, you’re full of crap if you really think eye-contact is boring. Third, you’re right, he does tell me he loves me, because he actually loves me, you sexist pig. And fourth, he’s not tiny.”

“Whatever. He’s a joke, just like you, and I bet the sex sucks and you’re both so bad at it that you can’t even tell that it sucks.”

She knows people are staring, but her brain just isn’t functioning right. She yanks her phone out of her purse and quickly scrolls over to her list. “Jake’s the best sex I’ve ever had, okay? In fact, he’s so good that I made a list!” She shoves her phone in his face and scrolls quickly, grinning in manic triumph at the dumbfounded look on his face. “I made a list of all the things I want to do with him because he’s so unbelievably good. You wish you were as good as him.”

He is, for once, speechless. Amy locks her phone and steps back, smug grin on her face. The Vulture’s eyes flicker to something over her shoulder and she sees the spark of recognition in his face; when she turns, she feels her stomach drop down to her toes.

Jake’s standing at the end of the aisle, looking just as dumbstruck as the Vulture. She gasps, and the sound comes out like a ragged squeak. His mouth is hanging open but his brows draw together at the sound.

“Ja- Jake,” she says hoarsely.

This seems to snap him out of his stupor. His mouth snaps closed and he immediately begins striding down the aisle toward her and there’s something new in his eyes - smug and barely-contained glee, maybe - when he throws his arm around her shoulders. “Hi, honey,” he says, laying a kiss against her temple and pulling the bottle of Nyquil from her grasp. “Let’s get you back in bed.”

“Yeah, well, you’re both a couple of losers!” The Vulture shouts after them. Jake twists around and flashes his middle finger at him and grins into Amy’s hair at the sound of his splutters. “I’m buying thirty-five boxes of condoms!”

“You’re amazing.” Jake murmurs once they’re outside of the store. “But next time, just call me instead of trying to go get stuff on your own. I really don’t mind doing it for you. That’s what boyfriends are for.”

She sinks into the passenger’s seat of his car and sighs in relief; her body is already aching from the exertion of just a lap around the bodega. She feels Jake slide in on the driver’s side, feels the engine roar to life beneath her and the air conditioner tickle across her face. The car lurches a little when he puts it in drive and then his free hand finds hers and interlaces their fingers.

“I’m sorry about…that.” She whispers once he’s pulled away from the curb.

“It’s fine, but I really mean it about calling me next time, okay? ‘Specially since you almost fainted this morning and everything, like, what would’ve happened if you’d fallen and hit your head and they took you to the hospital? They would’ve called Manny and it would’ve taken him three hours to get here and -”

“Wait, no, they’d call you,” she interrupts. “Manny’s not my emergency contact anymore. You are.”

He turns his head toward her and stares.

“I changed it two years ago, Peralta. Way before we started dating. I just figured, y’know, since you’re my partner and everything, you’d be able to get there the fastest. And, besides, that’s not even what I was talking about. I meant…the stuff I said to the Vulture. The list.”

“Oh,” he shrugs. “I don’t really care. The guy’s an ass. I could hear him yelling all the way from the front doors. Besides, you weren’t lying.”

He squeezes her hand a few times in quick succession and she snorts. “So you’re…not mad? About any of it?”

“I’m more curious than anything else. Do I get to look at the list, too? Or is that just between you and the Vulture?”

“I can’t stand you.”

She does let him see it once they’re back to her place. He reads each item carefully three times over without ever saying a word, and then stands and grabs his laptop and a notepad off of her dining room table. When she asks what he’s doing, he responds with a muttered “research” and then promptly tells her to finish her soup.

The night passes in a haze that has nothing to do with the cold or the soup or the medicine, and the next morning she wakes to the sounds of Jake’s congested voice explaining through chest-rumbling coughs that neither he nor Amy would be making it into work that day.

[jamesniall]

Hey I’m not the anon that u talked about but I follow u on twitter and wanna let u know that don’t worry!!!! That happened to me a few days ago too djdnxjsn. Are you posting today?

ahhh HI OMG thank u for understanding :’)

IT WAS SO FRUSTRATING bc i got it all written but there’s lil things to edit and words to change a bit but it was basically done and then the power went out and refused to come back for 7 hours :/

as soon as it came back i got to it but im sleeeeepy and i have a family thing tomorrow morning (basically today wow it’s 4 am) so i can’t post it until the afternoon :( BUT YES TODAY IT’LL BE POSTED FINALLY. NOTHING WILL STOP ME FROM POSTING IT TODAY.

if u want, and for the other super patient and lovely anon as well, here’s a lil preview of it; the first out of the 5 + 1 things of this fic!

(as i said, it still needs to be proof read again so if u find mistakes pls pretend u didnt, im gonna get to them tomorrow sdkfhds but yeah there u have 1,5k of this monster of a fic that took over 2 months of my life lmao what started as a lil hurt/comfort fic ended up in a 18k monster of developing relationship hurt/comfort and angst with a cHEESY ending wow)

Having the night shift at the E.R onFriday nights it’s always a chore. Harry always tries his best to change itwith one of his colleagues, even if he has to take Monday’s morning shift whereeveryone comes with the silliest symptoms to get some excuse to get out oftheir jobs for a couple days.

This time, however, Liam has a familything he can’t get out of and Harry has to cover the night shift.

It goes as he expected it.

Drunk college students with alcoholpoisoning are the most common gig of the night, followed by guys withconcussions and broken noses that can only be attributed to bar fights.

It’s around 10 pm when he’s making a roundthrough the new arrivals when he sees a guy sitting in the waiting room withwhat seems to be a scarf wrapped around his left arm and a guitar tightlyclutched in his right hand.

He looks downright miserable. Soaked tothe bone – though Harry doesn’t recall it raining when he started his shift –hair plastered to his forehead and a bruise in his right cheek that he can tellit’s gonna swell and hurt as fuck tomorrow morning.

He takes a look around the room andfigures he’s the most interesting case he can get out of the night.

“Hello there, I’m Doctor Styles. Did thenurse give you the triage paper?” He asks, looking down at the brown hairedguy, who startles at his voice.

“Oh, hi, yes, uh,” he searches around hispockets for a bit, hissing when he disturbs his homemade bandage, Harry doesn’tknow if he’s hiding a broken, burnt or cut arm, but he’s sure the scarf it’snot wrapped up properly for none of those situations.

He finally finds a yellow crumbled uppaper in the pocket of his jeans, “thought the red papers got attention first.”He says, looking up to Harry and handing him the paper.

“Yeah, Friday nights are usually full ofyellow ones, though.” Harry says, scanning the paper quickly and seeing Niall J. Horan, 25 year old male, reportedbar fight, probable broken wrist, no signs of concussion, vitals on order, pain8/10. “How’s your pain right now?”

“Out of ten? It’s been simmering between 8and 9 for the last hour,” Niall replies with a shrug. “Nurse told me x-rayswere necessary but that I’d have to leave my guitar outside,” he continues, “Irefused, because have you seen the people around this place? They’re all drunk.No way I’m leaving it out here only to find it broken, so if you can tell mewhat to do or what to take for the pain I’d appreciate it so I can go home.”

“You could have a broken wrist, judging bythe pain I’m pretty sure that’s the case, isn’t getting the x-ray moreimportant than a guitar?” Harry asks, an amused smile making his way through asNiall splutters and shakes his head.

“’Course it’s more important, she’s one ofa kind. Actually my arm might be broken because I fell out of the stage toprotect her.” He states. A stubborn frown taking over his face.

“Alright,” Harry nods, “You can leave itin my office while we do x-rays and get you proper treatment. That way both ofyou will be safe.”

“Really?” Niall asks, “Hey, thank youmate! I hope it’s not a bother.”

“None at all, just follow me and we’ll getit done quick enough.”

-

Half an hour later Niall’s sitting in astretcher as Harry wraps up his broken wrist properly. His guitar restingbeside him. “I cannot help but ask, what did you mean you fell out of a stageto save your guitar?”

“Oh,” he laughs, “well, you see, I play inthis bar on Friday nights, to help a bit with the bills, you know? Being ajust-graduated-nutritionist doesn’t give you much, so I was there, justchilling, getting ready to finish the set, when a bunch of assholes startedfighting, throwing punches and chairs and tables went flying. My guitar was inthe direct line of fire.” He says, pausing a bit to swallow harshly as Harrymoves his arm to check the blood flow is alright and the bandages are justtight enough. “So I try to yell at ‘em to be careful but just as I was about toreach the guitar and leave a guy was pushed over, I can only guess he was deaddrunk, because he didn’t even try to slow down the fall, and I could only seehis ass was for sure gonna land on my guitar, so I jumped head first to grab itand he fell on me, I fell on the corner of the stage, thus the bruising.”

“Is that why you told the nurse the reasonof all this was a bar fight?”

“Well, technically it all started with abar fight, but as I was about to explain it all she just went and rolled hiseyes and gave me a yellow paper.” Niall says, a sour look on his face, “realrude of her, you know.”

“Yeah, you’ll have to forgive her,” Harrysays with a small smile, “we don’t get much of anything other than bar fightson Friday nights.” He continues, handing Niall a sheet of paper with hisprescribed pain medication.

“Do I have to come for you to take a lookat it again? Like, remove the bandage or something?” Niall asks, looking a bitforlornly at the piece of paper.

“Oh, yeah but not here, exactly. You cancall this number,” he says, handing Niall a small card that just says Liam Payne and two phone numbers. “He’sthe best orthopedist you’ll ever find in this hospital. He’ll do an x-ray,check everything’s alright and in about 4 weeks you’ll be bandages free.” Hefinishes, smiling despite the fact that Niall looks kind of sad. Disappointedeven. “He really is the best, you’ve got nothing to be scared of, he’ll takegood care of you.”

“Not as good as you,” Niall mutters underhis breath as Harry turns his back on him to open the curtain that wasseparating them from the rest of the E.R.

“What was that?” Harry asks.

“Oh, nothing, just. Thinking out loudabout whether I should try to find a bus or just walk home.”

“I can call you a cab if you’d like.”Harry offers. Helping Niall gather his guitar, papers and card without losinganything.

“No, that’s alright. I left my jacket atthe bar so I have no change with me, just my very loyal Oyster card and twowell-functioning legs.”

“It’s really late, Niall, really. I canlend you some, it’s no trouble.” Harry says, searching in his pockets for hiswallet, “I’d be no good of me as a doctor if I fix you up only to let you walkhome at two in the morning. Cab is the safest option.”

“Also the most expensive,” Niall remarks,“we’re in an alright neighborhood and I live like half an hour from here, it’llbe alright.” Then, with a bit more of spark in his eyes, he says; “If you wantyou can give me your number and I can text you as soon as I get home.”

Harry seemed too busy looking into hiswallet to notice, though, “Here, just a couple of bucks. Just in case youdecide your house’s too far and you’re too tired or cold to keep walking.” Hesays, handing Niall a couple of folded bills. “Or in case you have nothing inyour Oyster card. Can’t never be too safe.”

He’s just finished talking when a beepcomes from his pocket. Eyes opening wide when he sees a red alert from hispager.

“Well, look at that. You can have a couplered cases on Friday nights too.” Harry says, shaking his head, “Have a niceevening. Don’t forget to pick up your meds tomorrow morning. What I just gaveyou we’ll be enough for the night but it might get really achey if you movearound a lot.” Harry says, walking fast towards the nurses’ station. “No guitarplaying, for at least a week, let you hand heal nicely. If there’s moreswelling, your fingers get really cold, dark or you can’t feel them or there’sany fever at all, please come back to the E.R immediately.” Harry says in arush as he checks the new triage papers. “Any questions?”

“Thank you.” Says Niall. “Really, you werethe nicest doctor I’ve ever met and I promise when I come back for that check-upI’ll hunt you down and pay you back.”

“No need,” Harry replies with a smile,“I’ve got to run. Have a safe trip home!”

And with that he leaves, back towards theentrance of the E.R where an ambulance is pulling in someone in a really bloodystretcher.

With a shudder, Niall turns to leave, notbefore looking back at Harry for the last time and saying to himself, “nexttime I’ll get his number.”

[ghoulangerlee]

this is a pretty heavy post like, feel free to ignore it bc im just. in a really bad place right now and i need to vent and say things other than ‘im so tired’ because it doesn’t accurately encompass how i actually feel

So, like. 2012? Sometime after my mom died I got into a really bad place mentally, with everything piling up; my shit life, my shit aunt, my shit roommate, just shit after shit, my money kept going to bills, i didnt eat for weeks at a time. 

I was in a really bad place. Like, horrifically bad. Only made worse by my aunt taking me to the hospital and telling the doctors there I was suicidal. To be fair, I was, but being locked in, what’s essentially a cell with a wooden bed? Not Fun. 

I tried getting better, I went to a therapist and a psychiatrist, got on medicine. talk about my problems, tried moving on. 

it didnt work. i felt a sense of uselessness around that time. i was 20 and my mom died less than a year ago. 

i’d been nursing my bad health since i was a kid, and when mom’s diagnosis came when i was 17...it was a lot to handle. and as time went on, my aunt got more distant until it was me, a barely old enough fresh high school graduate, trying to juggle college, full time work and taking care of my sick (and dying) mom. 

two years is a lot of time to have that much pressure put on you. and it does a lot to a person’s psyche when you go from being On at all times, to suddenly, you’re sitting in a hospice, telling your mom it’s okay to rest now. you’ll be fine. 

you start feeling useless, i guess. you just. don’t know what to do anymore. your mom’s gone, you’re out of work for a week to “mourn” but really. you spend the week staring at the wall wondering what you could have done better. 

(the spoiler is, nothing. nothing. death is fucked up. mom knew. the whole time she was going through the stages, making herself okay with the idea of dying. im glad she’s resting now. the last few years of her life were hard. too hard for one woman to handle.)

some could say that my anger and depression and sadness and just emptiness came from grief, maybe. maybe im still not over it. (spoiler: im not). 

i remember, my aunt calling me the day my roommate was in the hospital, i was with her, sitting with her. and i’d called my manager to let him know that i was on my way to work, i shouldn’t be late but if traffic gets bad, then i might be late. 

my aunt calls, yells at me, calls me a lot of names to the point im sobbing in my roommates hospital room. not an uncommon occurrence at that point. my aunt making me cry. i was 20 and my aunt had been doing that for about 10 years at that point. 

my roommate takes the phone, says something i can’t remember to her and hangs up. and then she calls a nurse who takes me aside, sits me down in a room and asks me if i need to leave. if my aunt’s abusing me or hurting me. 

it was a long day at the hospital. and then, later on that night, as im about to take myself to the local hospital to find out what i need in order to see a therapist, my aunt hijacks my plans and drags me there herself. takes me to the ER, tells them she’s worried about her niece’s who’s suicidal. 

and anyway. to make a long story short. i spend a lot of time in this tiny box of a room, with no shoes or pants or shirt. in my underwear and a gown, sitting on a wooden frame bed with no blanket. 

when i finally get my aunt out of the room, and i talk to the psych lady who came down from the ward, she asks me if i need to leave my aunt, asks if my aunt’s hurt me or hit me. 

at the time, i didnt realize that abuse in the context she was asking also meant verbal, mental and emotional. i didnt realize that’s what my aunt was doing until way later. 

the more i talked to a therapist later on, the more i realized that things were messed up. that my aunt’s treatment of me wasn’t right. that my aunt, as a whole, is abusive. 

i was 20 when i tried to commit suicide. 

i dont talk about it ever, because it was a point in my life i’ve been trying hard to forget. 

i was just. so wrung out. my roommate left me with a 300 dollar power bill despite “promising” to pay her share. my landlord kept bothering me about rent even though i’d always remind her when i’d get paid, my aunt wouldn’t stop. and i just felt alone. 

so fucking alone. i was empty and hollow and my house and life were a fucking mess. 

at that point, i’d been trying to think of a way that seemed natural i guess. just. something that no one would realize i’d done it on purpose. 

i didn’t have any money for food, so starving myself seemed like the best option. and so, i didnt eat. for days and then weeks and then months. 

my dumb brain just, thought that, well, ive already got bad stomach problems. my stomach already bleeds. if i don’t eat then the acid just gets worse, it’ll make me bleed. 

didn’t count on passing out during work and being rushed to the ER. 

i lied then and said it was because i didn’t have the money to eat. and so afterwards, my manager and coworkers made sure i ate something. 

but i mean, it wasn’t a glamorous experience. until today, i hadn’t told anyone that me not eating for those months was actually me trying to sabotage my own life. 

but yeah. 

what all this is leading up to is. i feel myself slipping back into that mindset. only this time, i can’t get out of it. i don’t have a therapist, or medication to help. my aunt is on my ass constantly and won’t let me get a job without threatening me homelessness. 

and its tearing me up on the inside. ive been in so much physical pain these past few days. everyday its hard to get out of bed and find the will to do anything.

we had an argument the other day, because i finally couldn’t handle her yelling. i told her how i felt about her and she told me to leave the room. so i went outside. and. fuck. i kept mapping out the quickest way to get to the busy street where all the cars were. if i could just get out there without her seeing then i could just...

when i keep saying im tired, i mean it as, this bone deep i can’t take it anymore tired. the i need to get out of here before something happens to me tired. the i am at the end of my line and if something doesn’t change soon im going to die tired. 

im trying so hard to stay okay. to keep all this in and not bombard people with it. hatching plans and trying to figure out how to get the money to leave. where to go when i do leave. 

but god its so hard. im just so tired.

and i dont know what to do. 

my aunt “paid” me for the last transport and i got 75 dollars. two days of nonstop driving and caring for 16 dogs. 75 dollars. that’s for groceries and my phone bill. and absolutely nothing for savings. 

fuck.

[cow3survivor]

Ep. 13: “I Need To Make Moves Here And This Is A Big One” - Mikey

JENNET

guilt tripping everybody that voted out sammy bc that was such a weird move and shows how weak everyone really is. idk it made 0 difference to me, i honestly could care less about this round. if i get immunity, mikey is playing the idol on himself if he gets immunity im getting the idol so it really does not matter

JESSICA

Woo the plan worked and Sammy is gone! He seemed sad because he said he wanted to stick with me but his actions didn't really align with that. My goal is still to get Jennet and Jones out. I feel bad because Jennet is now in a position where they’ve been targeted every round of merge and a lot of that is for little to no reason. I don't really know why Lovelis tried to vote for them, or why their name came up when Daisy left, and the round Sam went home I only said their name to try and protect Lindsay. And last round their name was a decoy.... but still! They have been through a lot and I feel bad. But unfortunately because of this, they are definitely winning if they make the end. They haven’t betrayed a lot of the jury, they now have this great underdog story if they make it, and their whole game is about loyalty and honesty and all that stuff betrayed jurors jut love to vote for. Which I will say.......... it's easy to be loyal and honest when you don't align or overly strategize with half the team. It also leaves you super vulnerable to being a target sooooo I feel bad but I also feel like that's the reality of blocking yourself off to so many people. Since Sam is sadly gone, my new ideal final 5 is Lindsay, Shane, Mikey, and Jake. That will get awkward because I feel like it'll fall into 2 vs 2 and they'll all expect me to stick with them. That would be the downside to my strategy of "align with everyone and make everyone feel like you're their option" buuuut I think I'm saved by the fact that asides Jennet, I feel I can beat everyone left at the end. I don't think it's a guarantee; I'll definitely have to do a good FTC. But Shane and Lindsay have really bad social games -- Shane fights with everyone and betrays close allies for no reason and Lindsay apparently doesn't even talk to half the people left. Yesterday, Jake and Mikey both said they thought Shane would win at the end because "he's made so many moves!!!" which is ummmm not very feminist because I think everyone credits him with doing a lot more in the Daisy vote than he actually did. I feel very much like the Natalie White of this season because my relationships are really what is holding everything together. I just have to be careful that people don't see me as keeping Shane around when he's an obvious threat because that could definitely damage my chances of winning. However.... there is something that could upset that f5 and that is if this round, Jones/Mikey/Jake/Jennet all want to vote out Shane or Lindsay (again). I'm not actually that opposed to this happening because it would be very useful for me to have a close ally on jury to tell them what I did. It would also mean I don't really have to "decide" who to pick at f5 but I would still be relatively protected. However I also worry that if Jennet gets through even one more round, Mikey, Jones, and maybe even Jake will just refuse to vote them out like they did before. Mikey admitted to me he knows Jennet will win at the end but if he feels like he has no shot, he might just keep them around because they're close and that is not a great sign for me! I guess we'll see what happens with immunity. Also go me for being the last person left with no votes against them :~)

JENNET

something about a white man yelling over me last night when it was my turn to speak doesnt sit right with me... i dont want to make it a race thing or a “gender” thing but .... idk its kinda taken me out of the game i dont even feel like campaigning to stay tbh...

(a little later)

soon as shane won immunity here go jessica pming me saying she hates that he won... pls that is ur ally u love the fact that he won... just admit it tired of these people playing in my face but i dont wanna play into that role that i know i fall into fairly quick

(after taking a beach stroll)

this may be my last week i fear 🕴🏾

(after taking the camera and running into the woods)

jess must think im a fool every round she “leaks” info to me and then she does the complete opposite of what she says she will. im sorry its pathetic at least this round she told me shes voting me pero its like now shes asking me if i have any alternatives that i can convince her into doing and im like... girl its one of my allies and like 5 of urs left dont play me like im some dummy .... so that u can tell them im pushing for them and give more reason for them to want me out? she not getting my jury vote for sure

SHANE

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1-4Q_LE3wnSM_Pi3HAmSvuoCVrNzX_dTn

LINDSAY

jennet is the target. if they have an idol i will probably go home. i have crippling anxiety 🤩 im sorry thisbis so short there's not much to report on. there was a miscommunication between everyone that mikey caused but nothing rly came of it. im just you know how sometimes when youre abt to fall bur you catch yourself your stomach does thise little flips? thats me for the past hour. i have a bad feeling abt this, but i also have crippling anxiety so shocker

JESSICA

me yesterday: If Lindsay or Shane got 7th, I wouldn't be sad! me now: ummmmmmmmm no stop being silly Anyways we are all voting Jennet as of right now. I told Mikey that we were splitting votes on him and Jennet potentially (so that I could get Mikey to vote Jennet, meaning Shane or Lindsay could throw 1 vote on Mikey in the event of an idol) but then Mikey went and told everyone I said that??? Which was a weird move, I don't know if he was hoping it would blow up on me but I just admitted to everyone what my strategy was. Now it seems like they just don't trust Mikey. Which is useful for next round, if I can make it there. I also told Shane and Jake that Mikey asked me if they were threats and I'd said yes. I told Shane and Jake this so that in the event Mikey went to them, they'd already have a heads up and wouldn't be suspicious (because Mikey leaks almost everything and I felt like that would definitely happen). I also accidentally implied to Jake that Shane was targeting him?? Not really sure how that happened but there was this weird temporary blowup where Jake went to Mikey and Shane and said he heard they were saying his name. Obviously I was NOT excited for this because I was worried it would come back against me instantly so I tried to smooth things over with Shane and Jake + told Mikey it's not cute to leak info! I'm hoping that the three of them are pointing their daggers at each other and haven't turned on me but it was definitely scary for a minute. I also told Mikey Shane originally wanted Jake to go when Daisy left AND that I thought Shane/Lindsay would vote Jake out next. I can explain both of these away pretty easily to Jake (1. That vote was a long time ago and he only wanted to do it because Jake was saying Lindsay and 2. I was just saying they'd vote him out next to make Mikey comfortable) but he isn't online to give me the chance to do it and I don't want to bombard him with messages. But here's where I am 2 hours before we vote...... I'm ultra paranoid Jennet has an idol. And she knows she's going tonight. Everyone was like "don't tell her she's leaving!" and I was like???? She knows?? I'm not wasting her time pretending like I'm not considering voting for her. So now....... should me, Shane, Lindsay just vote out Mikey (or Jake?) instead? I'm hesitant to bring this plan up to anyone for a few reasons: - None of these people can keep a damn secret!! - If we flip and Mikey does vote Jennet (and there's no idol), it will be 3-3-1. Really not liking that - I don't thiiiiink Jennet would idol me out if they were to idol anyone. I'm afraid to bet on this too heavily but I really, reaaaaally hope because I'm being honest with them this round, they would see me as someone who would maybe work with them at f6/f5 (as opposed to Jake, who has lied to them and Jones who flipped last round, and Lindsay who she says she wants out). I originally!!! Thought that Mikey would never vote for me but I'm honestly not sure after today - Jake is completely MIA today, same with Jones. Jake SHOULD trust me since I've warned him whenever I've heard his name but I'm worried after the shenanigans of earlier + him not responding that he's now sketched out by me - I don't want Jennet in the f6 (sorry Jennet!) because I think if we lie to the others about who we vote, they are more likely to go to rocks for them if we vote them next time. Like right now, Mikey is not going to a rock for Jake (or vice versa) but I think both would do it for Jennet if they felt they were their only path to the end. If people go to rocks for Jennet like we might as well all pack it in now and let them win because that just shows!! How good their relationships are. The reason I'd want to switch the plan is because if Jennet has an idol,  they are absolutely playing it tonight. If they don’t have it, they don’t have it, but that means Jake or Mikey could. So like.... why not do a fake out and have a higher chance of getting the merge idol out of here? Plus if Jennet doesn't play it tonight, we can vote them tomorrow with much more ease. I'm worried people are too aware that I'm really moving things behind the scenes and are going to come for me this round. Here's where I'm hoping my strategy of be everyone's BFF / an option for everyone will help me out -- Lindsay is a bigger threat than me and has done a lot less of that work so in the event Jake and Jones DO decide to turn..... I think they'd vote for her over me. But that's not really ideal because going into a F6 with only 2/3 of my end game trio is not the look! Despite what I delusion-ly thought yesterday!

JONES

fukjlkjdsflakjsdalfskdfja i have a rlly bad gut feeling i'm going home bc its like ,, , too quiet and too straight forward, i think jessica should be going this round ? either she'll be idoled out or voted out 4-3 ya feel,, i'm just ,, my stomach hurts i need jessica to get voted out she's like ,, my only competitor in terms of gameplay style >? ya feel ? i'm not excited for whatever happens after tribal,, so maybe i throw up, maybe i get voted out , either way i'm free

JAKE

Yeah so that last move was a mistake lmaooo I thought Mikey and Jennet were tighter with Sammy than they actually were 😬 so now I’m just trying to regroup from that. Seems like Jennet is the target but I feel terrible voting her out so I’m sort of at a loss. I also don’t want Mikey to be left out again so just trying to figure out what’s best for me eek 🥺

MIKEY

OK SO. Me Jake and Jennet are voting jessica, jones is voting jennet and Im gonna play my idol on jennet. I need to make moves here and this is a big one. Sorry JESSICA!