#curator doesn’t care for them too much but damn the pity be pitying

[wtfgaylittlezooid]

I need to continue writing the sitcom au fanfic for tsp because I had so many plans for 432 and a stanarrator slowburn it was insane. Also Mariella and Stanley becoming work besties and curator helping 432…

[stanzoeywade]

Poppy x MC Tinder AU

Summary: based off that one tumblr post about a girl who never experienced an orgasm and their friend hooks them up with their lesbian friend. aka, the au that no one asked for.

in which Veronica and Chloe find out that Poppy's never experienced an orgasm and they decide to help her out by creating a tinder account for her, cue MC finding her account and shenanigans happen.

Warnings: swear words maybe some smut but nothing too graphic. (OWO)

If anyone wants to be added to taglist please reply. As always these are only my headcanons so enjoy my take on that tinder au anon asked @somewillwin about. Your brain anon omg.

Taglist: @somewillwin @belvoiresqueenbee @origmansello @clownery-is-a-new-personality @kamilahtrash @poppysminion @poppysimp @captain-hanadeleine @poppysmc @iiizdumb @uselesslesbianfr @scattered-to-the-winds @idiot-justidiot @toyhenoctus

First of all this discussion happens one night where Poppy, Chloe and Veronica get their asses drunk at a frat party. Believe or not the top 3 girls of Belvoire actually care about each other, they just have a really weird way of showing it.

A heart to heart talk starts and the three of them start to confess things that they would never talk about when sober. Cue Poppy saying "I've never experienced an orgasm in my whole life."

Chloe and Veronica just look at Poppy shocked and their jaws drop. Veronica just looks at Poppy with a weird look of pity, whilst Chloe just stares.

After realising what she said Poppy quickly sobers up and clams her mouth shut. "What do you mean you've never had an orgasm before?!" Veronica all but yells. "Gee V, couldn't you have said that any louder, I don't think the whole school heard you." Poppy replies sarcastically.

Veronica just rolls her eyes and says "Girl, you're not getting out of this convo that easily. Now spill the tea sis." Chloe and Veronica look at Poppy expectantly, waiting for her to elaborate. Poppy just sighs and looks away cheeks flushed, as if embarrassed.

The two don't stop pestering her, so Poppy has no choice but to raise her hands in mock surrender. "Fine, I'll tell you" she says as her eyes narrow dangerously. "But if you tell anyone about this, I will actually erase the both of you from planet earth."

Poppy begins to explain that none of her exes made her feel good, and that whenever she had sex with any of them she always had to fake it, so much so that she's started to find sex boring.

Veronica and Chloe share a look and nod at each other. The both of them say "We're gonna set up a tinder account for you to find a good lay (basically the british version of saying good fuck), because that's just pretty fucking sad. Why didn't you tell us sooner, like bruhhh??."

Poppy just looks away and says "Its not like I can just go up to you guys and say 'I've never orgasmed before'". The two just nod their head in understanding before taking Poppy's phone and installing tinder.

They spend some time taking and choosing the best photos for Poppy to use on her tinder profile. (If anyone has seen Euphoria, you know that scene where Rue helps Jules take nudes, it's like that but PG-13) Considering that the three of them were pretty drunk, it was surprising to see how well it turned out.

Feeling sleepy, both Veronica and Chloe retreat back to their room, and Poppy just feels so tired that she falls asleep as soon as the other girls leave.

Waking up the next morning Poppy wakes up to the sound of her phone beeping numerous times and annoyed by the constant ping, she picks it up to see that almost all the notifications were from tinder.

Poppy is confused because wtf? When did she download tinder??? And then it hits her like a truck, 'Oh shit, we were all drunk as fuck last night, I thought that was some bizarre lucid dream but I actually have a tinder account. Fuck.' - she thinks to herself, embarrassed that Veronica and Chloe know her secret.

She sees a few messages from the group chat. Veronica sent her a message. "Poppy, istg if you delete tinder after all the time we spent making your profile look cute, I will post the ugliest picture I have of you on my insta." it reads. What surprised her is that Chloe actually backs Veronica up by saying "Yeah Poppy, it took our three collective brain cells to curate that account so you better use it."

Poppy giggles a little amused by her friends' reaction and she messages them back by saying "Fine, but if it doesn't work out you guys have to pay for my next shopping spree." Chloe and Veronica just agrees albeit unwillingly, but they know not to argue back.

Poppy decides to check the messages and matches that she got on tinder, disappointed but not surprised, most messages say "Send nudes" or a nude pic is attached to their messages. Poppy just rolls her eyes as she immediately unmatches them.

You were looking on tinder for your latest hook-up with no strings attached because ewww commitment and no one really caught your eye, except Poppy. Imagine your surprise when you find Poppy's profile on tinder, deciding that it was a troll account you decide to message them saying "Wow, of all the people you could choose to pretend to be, you choose the HBIC of Belvoire. Stop trying to catfish people, that's just shitty."

Poppy shocked at the sudden message that she gets from you scoffs and replies back "I'm not pretending to be anyone, Farmsville, in case you didn't know even I'm allowed to use tinder."

You just roll your eyes and text back "If you really are Poppy Min-Sinclair, prove it. I might hate Poppy's guts but trying to ruin her reputation by doing shit like this isn't funny."

This catches Poppy's attention, and suddenly she's curious. 'Why would she even stand up for me?' she can't help but wonder.

Poppy screenshots your conversation and sends it to Chloe and Veronica who have vastly different reactions. Veronica's response compiles of this emoji 👀, and the words "Farmsville likes girls, we been knew." and Chloe's response is more of a "WTF, I thought she was dating that Zoey girl."

The girls tell her that it would be fun to mess with you, and they tell her that she should prove that the profile is hers. Veronica also messages her privately saying "girl, her bio legit says 'not looking for commitment' this is like your chance to sleep with her and if you don't, I will." Poppy just grunts in annoyance and decides that fine, she supposed that you were attractive enough for a hook-up.

When you don't get a reply within the next ten minutes you scoff and roll your eyes. 'Damn, people really stoop so low huh.' - you think to yourself. There's a slight disappointment that crosses your mind once the account stopped replying to your messages. You were kind of hoping that it was the real Poppy after all.

Against her better judgement (gay denial right here folks, you're the first to see it), she decides to take a selfie and sends it to you.

Right as you're about to unmatch to what most likely seems to be a fake account, you're surprised to see a message from Poppy's supposed account. It was a selfie of Poppy, where instead of her usual pink fur coat, she's wearing something casual, and to be fair it's a really nice mirror selfie. (This is what I imagine) (I still stand by my headcanon of Poppy looking like Chungha but I couldn't find a good photo lolol)

Doubting that it's really Poppy, you decide to check your socials to see if she's uploaded any new images, and so far you haven't found anything. However you're nothing if not stubborn. You ask if she could prove that she's real and not some weirdo.

Poppy just rolls her eyes annoyed that she's being questioned, as a last ditch effort to gain your trust she sends another selfie, which is a bit more revealing than the last and once you see it your brain stops functioning.

Regaining your composure, you message her saying "I thought you had a boyfriend? What the fuck?" The only response you get is a reaction gif of some girl rolling their eyes. Being the little shit you are you decide to annoy her by sending selfies back, each photo more provocative than the last.

Poppy amused by the photos decides to get you back and it becomes a game of one-upping each other to see who takes better thirst traps. This continues on for an entire week (It's such a stupid competion and both of you know but you're both competitive af so yeah.) until Poppy snaps and contacts you using her actual phone number instead of the app.

Poppy's already frustrated and she's annoyed because she can't stop thinking about you and your stupidly hot, gorgeous body - oh my god I'm going insane she thinks to herself. She decides enough is enough and messages you. "FUCK YOU FARMSVILLE! BACK DOWN ALREADY!"

You wouldn't be yourself if you didn't have a sassy comeback ready so you reply with "FUCK ME YOURSELF YOU COWARD!" sending her yet another thirst trap, this one more revealing than the others.

Poppy snaps when she sees the message and she's quick to make a reservation to her favourite hotel in NYC, because as if she'd be seen taking you to her room. She gets the biggest room because she's extra like that and she knows she deserves the best.

The only response you get is a pinned location on the map, aptly captioned, "Meet me here Farmsville and I'll make you eat your words."

Still feeling feisty you reply with "Is that a threat or is that a promise? 😘😜" and Poppy just tells you to hurry up.

This is a really stupid idea - you think to yourself. You can't help but be suspicious of Poppy wanting to meet up, after all she can use this information against you. However none of that matters to your lust riddled brain, considering the last hook-up you've had was with Professor Kingsley and that was quite some time ago and you're really horny for some action.

You quickly dress in your best underwear, and choose something fashionable yet casual to wear because let's face it even if you hate Poppy, you don't want to look like a loser if you're gonna hook up.

Once you get there, you quickly make your way to the designated room that Poppy told you to go to. Knocking on the door, you're lowkey expecting Belvoire students to berate you, but once the door opens all you can see is Poppy.

Poppy is dressed in nothing but her underwear as she pulls you into the room. Feeling a bit awkward, you decide to break the ice by saying "I lowkey expected this to be some weird plan where you embarass me in front of your clique."

Poppy just looks at you and she scoffs as she says "As much as I hate you Farmsville, even I wouldn't stoop that low. Plus it's a crime to share nudes without a person's permission." You just look at her in disbelief jaw dropping as you take all of her in. I mean if you thought she looked good in the photos, then damn seeing it in real life was a different experience entirely

She notices that you're staring and she just flashes you a smirk and says "See something you like?" and all you want to do is wipe the smirk off her perfect face.

Stepping closer to Poppy, you make the first move and kiss her roughly, each kiss longer than the last and you can feel your heart pound as your nervousness dissipates and all you can focus on is the smell of Poppy's perfume and how it drives you wild. As well as how soft her skin feels against your hands and it's enough to drive you over the edge.

Poppy pulls away and you follow after her, annoyed by the fact that the kisses stopped. You can hear her pant as she struggles to breathe.

As soon as Poppy catches her breath, she says "I'm starting to feel under dressed so let's fix that shall we?" She pulls you towards the bed and she strips your clothing off, and you can't help but stare because holy shit this is actually happening. You start to wonder if you're dreaming until you feel Poppy kiss you again, this time slower and softer and you can't help the wistful sigh that escapes your lips.

You decide to take the lead until you hear Poppy say something. "Wait a minute Farmsville." You stop and listen because no matter how sexually frustrated you might be at the moment, consent is always important.

You wait patiently for her to start talking and she says "Don't make fun of me, but I've never known what an orgasm feels like." You can tell that she's flustered by the way she looks away and refuses to make eye contact.

Your eyes soften up and you kiss her gently on the neck and whisper "I guess that's something we can improve after tonight, but if you feel uncomfortable at any moment in time just tell me to stop." Surprised that you even cared about how she felt Poppy just nods her head softly at you.

"I'm gonna start touching you, okay Poppy?" you say your voice gentle, as you hope that it soothes her nerves. "Just relax and let me do the work, alright, I promise I won't hurt you." Poppy just shoots you a shy smile and your heart pounds because fuck that's the cutest fucking thing you've ever seen.

Kissing your way to her inner thighs, you can hear and feel her squirm against your touch. In order to keep her still, you place her hands on your hair and assure her that it's okay if she tugs on it. You place your hands on her hips to keep her steady as you tease and suck on her clit.

Poppy's small moans of contentment makes you want to do more, so you try extra hard because you want to hear more. You can feel Poppy's body begin to shudder and you can tell that she's close and spurred on by that you insert your fingers into her core and thrust until you can hear scream in pleasure.

You can't help but stare as her body starts to spasm and you let her grind so that she can climax again and it's the most erotic moment of your life.

Poppy feels her whole vision turn white for a moment and she feels euphoric once she realises that she came.

As soon as she regains her bearings, she turns to you, who looks very satisfied, and omg did she just see you lick her juices off your finger. That sends a wave of arousal straight to her core and she looks away embarrassed from being turned on again just a few seconds after coming.

You put your hand on her chin and turn her face towards you forcing her to make eye contact. "It's not over yet, Princess. I'm pretty sure that we can wriggle more of those out of you and the night is young." you say your voice dropping an octave.

By the time that you've finished, Poppy's mind has gone blank and she feels so tired that she doesn't think she can move. She's got to give you props though, because goddamn that was the first time she actually enjoyed sex and she actually got to cum too.

Noticing that Poppy's too tired to move, you decide to lift her up in a princess carry and surprised by your sudden action Poppy's about to protest until you just tell her to be quiet.

Placing Poppy in the bath tub, you turn on the faucet and makes sure that the water isn't too hot or cold as it fills up. After the bath has been filled you slip into the bathtub behind Poppy as you help her clean up.

'Okay now she's just being unfair, why is she being so nice.' Poppy thinks to herself. Trying to make conversation Poppy says "Why are you taking care of me, I half expected you to leave after we fucked." You rest you chin on her shoulder and say "I didn't want you to catch a cold, and besides what kind of a person would I be if I just left you on your own? I like to think of myself as a gentlewoman." You start to place soft kisses on her shoulders and Poppy just sighs wistfully, feeling at peace as she leans back against you. "Don't tell anyone but this was actually the most fun I've had. Hell I don't think any of my exes would have compared against you." Poppy says shyly.

You can't help the smile that creeps it's way to your face. "You can't say shit like that Poppy, I'm pretty sure you're gonna give me a heart attack if you act this soft." you say teasing lilt in your voice and you can hear Poppy giggle. It sounds so soft and you realise that it's a sound that you want to hear.

Your relationship as enemies with benefits start and the both of you can't really keep your hands off each other, God forbid if you're in the same room.

Intense stares from across the room that everyone assumes to be glares, but little do they know that it's your own way of communicating.

One day Poppy calls you up and tells you that you're going shopping, but in reality it was just an excuse to spend more time with you. On the way to the mall, you guys get frisky in the car and before you can stop yourself you say "Babe" and you can't help but think that you've fucked up.

Poppy doesn't say anything but she likes the new pet name and can't wait to hear you say it again.

You guys go to a high end designer store and one of the staff approaches you and says "You guys look good together." While you're quick to deny it, Poppy just thanks them, but as she hears you deny it her eyes widen and you can see her heart break in front of your eyes. Poppy runs off and you're confused.

The employee looks at you and says "I probably shouldn't say anything else today but you should go after her. It's obvious that you both like each other."

Searching the mall, you're relieved once you see Poppy sitting down on a bench, and you approach her carefully. You see that her eyes are red and you feel shitty because you're the reason why she's crying.

Poppy notices you and she's about to run off again until you catch her wrist in your hand. "Poppy please look at me." you plead and she doesn't budge as she tries to get away from your grip.

Seeing that she can't outrun you considering you're holding onto her she just sighs and looks at you. Her face is covered in tears and you use your other hand to wipe them away.

"You know after you called me babe in the car, I was so happy because I thought that it meant that we were dating, but I guess I was just another girl for you to fuck." Poppy says and your heart breaks.

"I thought that you didn't like me that way, so I quickly denied that we were dating. I do like you Poppy, but you never made it clear that we were in a relationship. Though to be fair I should have tried to clear things up too. I guess we're both idiots huh?" You say as you hold her face between your hands.

Leaning in you capture Poppy's lips and she eagerly kisses you back, happy to resolve the misunderstanding.

Unbeknownst to the both of you a Belvoire student caught everything on camera and by the next day everyone on campus knows that you guys are dating.

No one dares to say anything because uhhh POWER COUPLE and they're highly scared of Poppy killing them lol.

Long story short Poppy sees your tinder account and you compete for better thirst traps and well you start fucking and it ends up with you two dating.

Well that was long, hope you guys enjoy, don't forget to like or reblog if you like it.

[sugarkinky]

Gamers gotta game | 2 |

Pairing: Gamer!jungkook x Nerd!Reader x Fuckboy!Jimin  Genre: Future smut, fluff and angst.  Warnings: More angst than anything on this part, mentions of alcohol abuse.  A/N: I’m happy to see that many of you liked the first part, this is a slow-burn fic so bear with me. *gif not mine*

1 | 2 

PART 2

▪♡▪

10:15

You felt like your hangover from yesterday was there again, even if you didn’t drink anything the night before. It felt like your head was about to explode when you got up. Sundays are pretty lazy for you, there is something in the vibe of it that makes you incapable of being productive.

There is no need to get out of your PJs, so you just lay on the small couch and watch some Netflix on your cellphone. Maybe Kenny is already up so you decide to text her, just to see if she’s ok with the hole Seokjin ordeal.

But then you see something that makes you look at it twice, a message… From Jimin?

Okay, not that big of a deal. He was drunk, you saw him and he may remembered you. That doesn’t mean he changed or will change. Come on, you don’t have to change someone, you’re not some kind of savior of boys who can’t keep it on his pants right?

You don’t know if you reply it or not, but for your own safety you just delete the text and his number all together. It was about time.

▪♡▪

Freshmen year.

There are some things you couldn’t quite understand about your body, how it shivers when next to him, the way you’ll blush every time he say something about you or your heart stopping just because of the sight of him. You were totally fucked and with a massive crush on him.

It all started by his way of talking to you, always sweet and really listening you. The conversations weren’t the boring type, you could spend hours talking to him and he seemed to get everything you were saying. After some classes together, you both ended up meeting for projects and studying for exams on the library. That seemed pretty friendly and at that point you felt like it was good this way, he was a good friend.

One day, things got weird between you two. After the first year’s midterm exams you both went to a party because Jimin got in this frat and needed to bring as many people as possible to cheer for him in a kind of “initiation”. You went with Kenny and that was your very first party, so she dolled you up. When you got there it was loud and too crowded for you, but since Jimin wanted you there you stayed.

“Y/N, you made it!” Jimin said when you saw him in the kitchen.

“Yeah, when did you got here?”

“Not long ago, do you drink?” He asked you with some random bottle in hand.

“Sure.”

The night went by, soon enough you’ve learned that Jimin liked drinking a little too much. The said “initiation” was actually many drinking games with some weird penalties, like twerking in front of everybody. Jimin was pretty good at that, you truly started having fun when they announced the final game: chicken fight. The only problem was that the newcomers should have a partner to put on his back. The time Jimin glanced a look at you, you started to shake your head as saying “please no”.

“Come on, Y/N. Do it for me, please?” The puppy eyes were your weak spot.

“Fine but I don’t have a swimsuit.”

“Not a problem you can go with some of my clothes.”

Not necessary to say that the game was a total mess, Jimin almost couldn’t keep straight because of how wasted he was. But you didn’t drink that much so it wasn’t that difficult to beat the other girls. You both got to the last match and Jimin was happy and giggling.

“Y/N, you’re amazing.” You blushed at that, maybe the alcohol finally got to you.

“Let’s win this thing!”

And after what felt like a half of an hour you beat the other girl down and everybody cheered for you two. When get down from Jimin shoulders, he embraced you in a hug.

“I can’t believe you did it. WE DID IT.” He got a big smile on his face that harmed you up.

But then you felt that it was too close for you and started panicking a little, that’s when Jimin closed the space between you two and got his lips on yours. Nobody seemed to notice or care for that matter, they were too drunk for this.

“Hum, I need to go to the bathroom…”

So you almost trip getting out of the pool and heading to upstairs where your clothes were.

▪♡▪

Your Monday’s classes were you favorites, even it being Monday, Econometrics and Statistics were the reasons you chased the Economics major. At the end of the morning classes you got a message from Kenny inviting you to lunch.

“Do you even know the hellhole I went through because of you?”

“I’m sorry.” She looked sad and you know why.

“Hey, I know that something went wrong Saturday. Was it Seokjin?”

“Yeah… He told me that he liked this girl and…” She was almost crying and you embrace her in a hug.

“Hey, it’s okay, you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m fine, it was just an enormous crush no biggie.” You started laughing with her at that.

“So… Did he ditched you to go to her?”

“I wish he has done that, he asked me to play Cupid for him. I’m so angry at myself that I did it. He’s not a bad guy but damn… I can’t believe he’s that stupid.”

“Let’s change the subject, how’s your midterm project going?” Kenny made part of the Art’s Department and everyone on it had to submit twice a year to the University Art Festival, even her Audiovisual major.

“I feel stuck, it’s like I can’t vision it anymore.”

She once told you that her project were about history of our city photography, I pity her because it seems a lot of work for just one person to do. But you know she can do it, her last year’s short film were amazing, she’s brilliant with artistic stuff.

“Isn’t it too much for just you?”

“Actually, this year I can make some freshmen work for me to earn credits. I just didn’t decide who it will be.”

“WHAT? You have two months until the deadline.”

“I know, okay. I’m doing interviews this afternoon. The difficult part is done, I have the materials treated but analyzing and selecting them is not my cup of tea.”

“How many are they?”

“Around 200.”

“Girl…”

“I know right? How could you imagine this city would be that interesting.”

You both laugh at that.

“So… Do you have some time? I don’t really like meeting new people alone and those freshmen just scare me to death.”

“Just two hours, I have Statistics at 3 pm.”

“Wow, your major schedule is crazy.”

Oh, yeah it is. Ghosting Jimin made you pass more time between classes than in your own house. Worthy though, the Math Department had a good Statistics teacher. The Art’s Department is not that far from the cafeteria so you get there pretty fast, the interviews will happen in an empty classroom near the auditorium.

“At what time will they be here?”

“Probably in 20 minutes.”

And the first freshmen entered the room, she was a small girl with a timid smile called Mariam. She seemed fine but a little too clumsy, almost falling to sit on the chair.

“What are some of your interests in our department?”

“I like filmmaking and photography”

“Did you ever made part of an art project before?”

“Not really, I didn’t study arts in High School.” At that me and Kenny looked at each other, it is extremely difficult getting to any artistic related major without having any background. It’s like getting to a Med School without doing biology.

“How did you choose your degree?”

“Well… I always liked the cinematography studies I did for a Movie Club we hold with our history teacher. I never went to practice on it but I know the basics on cameras.”

“Right, I think you’re the only one showing up so…”

“Wait! I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers extended his class.” Two men entered the room with heavy breaths probably from running here. The one who talked had a quite long hair and was a little tanned. The other one… wait a minute, you knew him from the party, he was the one playing online games in his room.

“It’s fine… I know how Mr. Rogers is.”

“Well Mariam, I will let you know the results by email.” The interview continued with the one called Taehyung, but what you were looking at was Jungkook. He seemed to notice it as he stared at you for a second after turning his head away blushing.

“So you both are freshman?”

“Well… I’m a sophomore but I switched majors this year.”

In the end of the interview Kenny looked amused with Taehyung and his portfolio. Then it was Jungkook’s turn.

“Then… Jungkook, right?” He nodded “I’ve heard a lot about you in Ms. Turner class, you seem to be her favorite of your year.”

She knew him too?

“I… I’m sure it’s not true, she’s just very generous.” Kenny smiled at that, you knew that this one professor was hell on earth when it comes to personality.

“Okay, what editing programs can you work with?”

“PS, Illustrator, Corel, Lightroom and Luminar.”

“Well, have you worked with curation of photos for an exhibition?”

“Yes, back in High School.”

At the end of the interview you were running late for your class so you stared heading to the Math Department building. But before you could proceed, you saw Jungkook standing at the exit.

“Hum… Thank you for helping me at the party.”

“It was nothing.” He looked surprised that I talked to him directly. “I know how these parties are… Are you from the department?”

“Oh, no. Actually I’m just Kenny’s friend.”

“Well… I gotta go.”

“Hum… Yeah, see you.”

The man surely was not what you expected from the BTS frat house, he seemed a little lost and timid but maybe it was because you didn’t know him that well. One thing you’ve learned the past year is that you can’t be sure based on first impressions. 

▪♡▪

In the end Kenny opted for going with the last two freshmen but you didn’t see any of them for the next tree weeks. You and Kenny were lunching at the cafeteria when the both of them sat on the same table as you.

“Hey guys, are you done with the descriptions yet?” Kenny seemed worried, her deadline is next month.

“Not really, there are some things we would like to discuss about it.” Taehyung said.

“What about it?”

“I don’t think the photos make sense together yet.” That’s when Kenny took a long breath.

“I know right? But I don’t know what to do anymore.”

They all seemed lost on it. “Can I take a look on it?”

All three of them were surprised but Taehyung showed you the project on a folder. The images were incredibly good in quality for the time it was taken, but they didn’t seem to be from the same city. But one took your attention, it was a small market that was in front of your house with some old man in front of it.

“Why don’t you talk to these people? Maybe they can give you a hint of how these photos could make sense together.” Kenny scoffed at you.

“And where would we find them, on the cemetery?”

“No, dummy. This market is the one in front of my house, maybe you can talk to people nearby and see if there is someone from that time still alive, it’s called Oral History and maybe I can go with you and take some notes for my microeconomics class project.”

A/N: Even if this part ended up being longer, I don’t know if I really like it. I’ll try to do better for part 3, send me any feedback you think I need :)

[tuwam]

@urianius

‘come again?’

oh, she knew this would happen. mina so knew this would happen and kae’s look from across the table, sympathetic as it may be, and his hand rubbing circles in hers under the table isn’t helping. he’s trying really - but the headache that’s blooming in her temple is one that even the best crafted of spells couldn’t fix. it’s one that even the decision, in all the little butterflies and emotions that it involved, are hard to remember when she’s dealing with this.

this being...

a barrage of text messages starting from fellow seniors, not about things she cares about. not about how they’re going to pass this impossible test to graduate, not about the stress people have bubbling about their lives after graduation. not about the prices of dresses or what they’ve discovered about the world they’re about to enter. no, they’re messages with laughing emoji’s and eye emoji’s all with her brother’s name plastered somewhere around it. 

‘sooooo minjae?’ ‘lmao your brother?’ ‘did you hear, of course you heard’ ‘lololol mina i’m so sorry’ ‘girl, don’t kill him LOL’

if it’s not by text, it’s whispered into corners of the study room, pocketed in spots only she can see and with spells only she knows the password to. years of being here and making connections have given birth to curated spells that her and her group of friends are the only ones with access too. that’s why the pockets in the wall make no noise unless she’s drawing runes in them to open the message, only to get the unwelcoming cackling of some of her more animated friends.

then there’s...

the texts from her juniors, people among minjae’s class specifically. there are some who catch her first, if they’re too nervous to have her number or her information. they’ve been given shy looks all day, ducking out of sight, holding back laughter, and for the most part she thought nothing of it. for the most part she thought it was the daily mishaps, daily occurrences of his brother spreading his legacy through hogwarts in whatever way he sees fit.

then she catches his table, and honestly she’s never seen them look quite so apologetic when they make eye contact. and that’s all of them - junsu right down to his best friend himself. hyuck had practically sunk into his seat, the others avoided her eyes if they could help. 

did she look like she was about to burn down the entire hall? maybe.

all because.

from the corner of the cafeteria, as loud as humanly possible, is her brother, announcing to the entire world:

‘KAE ASKED MY SISTER TO THE BALL?’ 

kae did indeed. hanbyul said he saw it coming, and mina’s spent days, weeks even, ignoring the look that he gives her whenever kae insists he has to go study instead of going to the library with them. or the fact that for how tactile kae is, she’s never seen him fumble quite this much or something she thought he deemed unimportant. 

everyone had asked, she remembers that. everyone has mentioned the ball to her since she were a first year, and mina’s gone out of pity a few years in the beginning and she me thanbyul who told her simply ‘don’t go if you don’t want’ and that was the end of that. they’d gone as friends one year to get him out his damn gardens, but other than that it was left in the dust.

now she thinks of how much kae has been listening when people ask her about making her final year special. 

‘LIKE MY SISTER? MINA?’

kae asked her, rather sweetly too. he prides himself in being discreet, but watching yeonhee giggle about every time they met up for lunch may have sold him out - except for the fact that mina never thought he would. it wasn’t a big affair, wasn’t something her family would be proud of but he’s a slytherin too so maybe that’s the closest they’ll get to approval. she knows because...apparently her brother called them to ask if it were true and in turn - they called her because why would she share this information with them in the first place.

‘THE KWON MINHEE?’

and the headache bloomed from them listing all the other eligible men in ravenclaw that she could’ve picked - as opposed to kae. to which mina listed everything wrong with those men in particular and all the credentials kae had that they couldn’t dream of fitting in one pinky. and then promptly shut off the communication. hanbyul had laughed, kae honest to god turned red and mina had had enough at that point.

so imagine the mood hearing all this...

‘AND SHE SAID YES?’

after all that. 

“minjae.”

she doesn’t raise her voice. she doesn’t do a spell so she can yank on his ear from a portal, she doesn’t zip his mouth. everyone around him falls silent at the sight of her, their eyes lead him to her at the edge of the table and he falls silent as well. at this point, she’s gripping the flowers kae had given her so tight that he offers to hold them for her and she sees white in her knuckles.

mina had kept a low profile since her years here. she’d done her duty despite all the scrutiny, she’d tried to give the legacy a break for he brother to have freedom. and now, in her final years, in her last few moments, where everyone close to her has said she deserved something. the one person she’d expect to be happy for this for her - is causing the most stress.

he swallows at the sound of his name, and she sees his eyes shake when he turns to her. 

“don’t bother coming to the ceremony if you can’t handle this.”

that’s all she says and she lets it hang as she walks away, as she squeezes kae’s hands and parts the sea of students who’d seen it happen. as yeonhee and hanbyul catch up to her, as kae seems to know exactly where they can go fro her to breathe. for once. 

[falsehoped]

@more-than-a-princess​​ from here.

It took her four slices of thick-sliced ciabatta bread dipped in olive oil for Sonia to realize he wasn't coming. She'd arrived nearly twenty minutes early (which was on-time for Sonia), and she'd held off pilfering the bread basket for the next forty. Her table, situated next to the window of the dimly lit Italian restaurant and the best in Towa City, gave her a clear view of the sidewalk so she could wait in anticipation. For the first time, Sonia Nevermind had, with Chiaki's help, set up an online social media profile just like normal students. With a fake name and no photographs of herself, she'd enjoyed adding photos to her feed (or 'curating,' that was what normal students called it) and interacting with those who commented, until she met a boy.

According to his profile, his name was Yosuke, a first year at Towa University who spoke four languages, enjoyed scary movies, and to quote his bio, was "living a completely boring life." She'd been apprehensive at first when he'd asked her if she'd like to have dinner, far more worried about being recognized for who she was than being kidnapped or worse, but with enough encouragement from her friends she'd put on one of her nice (but not too nice) dresses, a pair of heels, and her most discreet pearl and diamond jewelry to indulge in a taste of home. Yosuke was familiar with some French and Italian (alongside English and Japanese) and had traveled, so it had been an easy choice for her when she admitted it had been a long time since she'd indulged in proper European cuisine. As she fiddled with the straw in her glass of lemon soda, Sonia tried to tell herself it was just a meeting of two friends, but as the clock on the wall ticked on, it felt less and less like a missed meeting and more like a date. A date that wasn't destined to occur. She'd seen them played out in dramas, as heroines sat at a table all night and ran through the possible outcomes via voiceover: he was in the hospital, there was a death in the family, he turned out to be a criminal and had gotten arrested on the way, or the most depressing of all: he'd taken one look at her and turned the other way.

"Miss, will you still be needing this chair?" The server asked, head tilted to the side as if he too were trying to riddle out how a young, blonde foreign girl was sitting alone at one of the most sought-after date restaurants in the city.

"Yes, yes I will need it!" Sonia interjected, louder than she'd intended and causing the occupants of the four nearest tables to set down their utensils and look in her direction, most in annoyance that their meal was being interrupted. "I promise, he will soon arrive. He's simply late."

"If you say so, Miss," The server acquiesced with a sigh, filling her water glass before disappearing back into the kitchen. Sonia watched him go with a sigh of her own as she felt her stomach rumble. She was in the mood to either chatter amiably or drown her sorrows in a bowl of pasta. Either way, she'd be spared of her classmates at Hope's Peak Academy seeing the sorry state her night had turned out to be. There was a term for this, something about standing, but if she tried to pinpoint it the next day when she told her friends the events of the night before, they'd surely correct her if not demand more details as to who would stand up the Ultimate Princess and why.

A fifth piece of ciabatta and her gaze on her phone, face up on the table and waiting for a distress text to arrive, distracted her sufficiently enough that she didn't notice the chair across from her being pulled away from the white tablecloth or the body that sank down into it. Only after she'd swallowed her first bite did Sonia, rather inelegantly, drop the bread down onto its plate as she stared across the table. He certainly looked familiar, but he wasn't Yosuke. From his picture, Yosuke's hair was lightened to a reddish type shade and cut short, while the boy across from her kept his a natural black and rather long, with sections falling over his eyes. He also never smiled, a stark contrast from the social media profile she found herself checking every night before she went to sleep.

"Ah...may I help you?" She asked gently with a soft, weary smile. Even when confused and hurting, manners mattered, and putting on a good face made all the difference. At least that was how the Ultimate Princess was taught to behave. "I do not think you are the person I was originally supposed to be meeting."

of course, you have your own reasons for being in one of the most prestigious restaurants in towa city, but they are needlessly complicated and perhaps even a little contrived. you are in the debt of someone who owes a favour to someone else who owes a favour to someone else and so on and so forth. you’re not particularly a fan of being so many people’s errand boy, but that’s just how things are and you don’t exactly have much else to do, do you? you end up spending the evening going from place to place, easily moving from one half of towa city to the other in a few hours. 

you got here about two hours ago, and had given your name to the waiter and headed straight into the kitchen, arriving just in time to prevent an argument from breaking out between the sous chef and the commis chef- likely saving the commis chef from getting fired, all things considered. is there something about you that just screams errand boy? is there? you’d like to know. is it written on your forehead that people can just ask you to do anything and you’ll graciously accept? the restaurant is a little understaffed tonight, not that anyone eating would be able to guess, and they make you wash dishes while you wait for some idiot named hachiro to get back from wherever the hell he’s wandered off to. you’re only supposed to be here to deliver a box, but this too is quickly turning into one of the most bothersome nights you’ve had in a long while.

when he gets back, you give him the box and what is by your standards, several extremely sharp words and a piece of your damn mind. you really don’t care that he starts crying, because it’s not your problem. all you care is that you’re done for the night, and you can eventually make your way back to your dorm and sit down for a while.

on your way out, some poor girl yelling at a waiter catches your attention. you stare at the scene for a moment, trying to work out what’s going on. she... has been here for a while. about an hour, from the gossip you’d heard in the kitchen. she has not ordered yet. you see the pitying look the waiter gives her before he goes, and you wait a moment before you sit down at the table with her. 

she is surprised to see you, and you recognise the exhausted look in her eyes. “your date is not coming.” you say bluntly. you find yourself recognising this girl- from her accent she is from somewhere in europe, perhaps lichtenstein or novoselic, though her japanese is otherwise at fluent level, and her appearance shows that she has a considerable amount of wealth but does not want to flaunt it at the current moment. it’s then that you piece it together: this is sonia nevermind, ultimate princess. she attends hope’s peak academy. 

“i am hungry. i have never eaten at a restaurant like this, and it is notoriously difficult to book a table. i will buy you dinner.” you are a little hungry, that’s true, but you also want to figure out why anyone would stand up a girl like sonia nevermind. the very idea seems... silly, though you suppose you don’t have much experience with these things, nor are you particularly interested in women, not even women as objectively beautiful as this princess. “it is mutually beneficial. i would like something to eat, and you can claim i was just exceptionally late.” 

she doesn’t have to agree, but you figure you might as well offer.

[otp-armada]

A Time Capsule

I’ve been lurking across several fandoms spanning a decade now, since my days of reading “Bones” fanfics on fanfiction.net. Before any inkling of Ao3’s existence. Maybe longer, my memory is murky at times.

I’ve never made a splash in any fandom, so to speak. I’ve always been content to stand shrouded in anonymity, residing on the edges of fandom, never an active participant. Perfectly at peace to never have a voice. Never brave enough to want to be heard. It has only been in the last few years that I discovered Tumblr and felt comfortable enough in taking advantage of its anon feature to interact mostly with The 100/Bellarke crowd, “conversing” with one user in particular. In the instances I chose to speak, there was safety in knowing my words never had an identity attached. A safety that lent itself to sending anon asks a fairly common activity until I wrote one recently sharing a remnant of my “The 100” viewing experience. The warm response from the users who read it left me smiling for the rest of the day. Their reply took a direction I didn’t expect. They encouraged me to take credit for my words under my username, which of course, I didn’t have, not being a Tumblr user.

I was flattered by the response, bolstering me to continue the line of conversation with another ask and was met with reiterated sentiments.

In the wise words of one of those awesome people,

“I was the ultimate lurker for a long, long time. I had a Tumblr account for four years before I ever made a single post, and even then I had to be talked into it. And you know what? When I finally starting “talking,” it was so freeing! Even if no one else was listening, even if I was speaking into the void, I was no longer dependent on anyone else to share my thoughts and opinions. I could do that myself.”

I took the compliment but waived the advice. Tumblr is made of communities built upon sharing and I have always been unto myself an island. It goes against my shy, introverted nature to take part in a community. I have no business pretending I have a place there. None at all.

And yet, despite my misgivings, the idea wouldn’t leave me as I believed it would. I started to genuinely ponder the merits of creating a blog.

There are strong reasons to support the affirmative.

First, the utilitarian benefits. In the absence of a blog, I turned to alternative methods of archiving appealing posts. If by some miracle, the item count of my browser reading list hasn’t yet ascended to the thousands mark, it most assuredly rests in the hundreds. My camera roll queue has indubitably reached the thousands count, currently sitting pretty at 3,300. I shudder to think of the sheer number of my bookmarks. One hundred and eighty notes on my phone. The final frontier has been broken, at last, habitually inundating my laptop with screenshots. Long has it been overdue to clean house.

Second, I find writing to be a herculean undertaking I enjoy in the moments it doesn’t drive me to the brink. A slow-going process, but when I’m able to appreciate the fruits of my labor, marvel at the polished product, I often feel quite proud. Writing is a skill I’ve lost touch with over years of disuse but found incrementally returning while expressing my opinions via Tumblr asks. Like any skill, it can be honed with time and practice. Transferring my streams of consciousness onto written medium challenges me to think critically, ask myself if my POV genuinely holds true or falls apart, requiring further reflection. If nothing else, it’s a good way to process thoughts and emotions. I find it easier than and therefore preferable to oral communication. I am a perpetual editor, always amending my statements which can’t really be done as effectively in speech.

Third, if there was ever a time to join the Tumblr fandom I’ve found a home in for the last three years, why not in time for the show’s last ride? The night I signed up for Tumblr coincided the first day of “The 100” cast and crew filming their 100th and poetically final episode. Around the same space of time, we got a release date and the nostalgic goodbyes of a few cast members rolled in. I know when Bellarke crosses the last threshold, I’d want it plastered all over my dash and I’d be able to make it happen.

But where there are pros, the cons inevitably follow.

Do I really need a further distraction from my responsibilities, spending additional hours and expending more energy I should not spare online? The too easy potential for more hours behind a screen when prone to headaches and horrid habits of not regulating my eating and sleeping schedules? The answer is a clear and resounding “No.” Would maintaining a blog be harmful to my mental and emotional health? Remaining anonymous has historically done a fine job of insulating me from general rebuke, which has mitigated the risk of reproach at least. No corner of the internet can be designated as a safe space. I knew I would in all likelihood have to work diligently to curate and be responsible for my experience, leading me to doubt how the effort could possibly be worth it. How could it be worth feeling exposed, self-conscious? Constantly second-guessing myself, debating whether or not my thoughts are best kept within the privacy of my mind to avoid stepping on anyone’s toes? Combating the periodic skepticism that my thoughts possess value worth writing?

There was always the lingering possibility I was overthinking the decision to my detriment, as is my norm. After all, it seemed silly and dramatic to regard one obscure little blog in a sea of hundreds of millions of social media users as momentous. But I know myself better than that. It is a really fucking big deal for me.

I vacillated between both sides of the argument for days before deciding not to follow through with the venture.

And then one night, a single stray observation ran through my mind. One observation became another, became another and before I knew it, I had formed the grounds for an entire meta post. It didn’t end there. More ideas filtered through. I expanded on those ideas. More traction gained. Another meta formed. More jumping off previous points. Before long, I had mentally written the foundations for four metas. And I was so excited and proud of forming these connections to this puzzle without even trying that I wanted to share it. I sat down to write them in my trusty Notes, outlining, trying to jot the main points down before they fizzled away from memory. I saw how long-winded these spiels had gotten sans the full writeup, subsequently rationalizing…well, not blowing up someone’s inbox is just good manners, isn’t it? And terribly inefficient to boot. More to the point, it seemed a disservice to myself to censor my rumination to fit the small confines of a Tumblr ask box.

The part of me that wanted to push forward envisioned what the future of my blogging efforts may look like. That part knows that this blog is for me and only me. What makes me laugh, what makes me cry. Smile. Rage. Flail. Think. Whatever the hell I want. I get to say what I want, however, I want. It’s incredibly nerve-wracking. It’s also exciting, thrilling, and yes, freeing. The notion of carving out a tiny space for me to fill to the endless brim with whatever brings me joy makes me…really damn happy. It’s not an easy feat to accept and harder to retain. I should be ok, so long as I never forget that I get to be in control of what happens here. It’s within my right to block anyone I don’t want to engage or associate with. It’s my full right to not care what anyone else has to say if I don’t want to. Block out anything negative I don’t want to endure with only a few clicks. If I decide I want to walk away, permanently or otherwise, for any reason, it’s within my right to do that too. It’s comforting.

There was a time when I “knew” I would never sign up for an Ao3 account until one of my favorite authors withdrew the majority of her stories from public consumption. I “knew” I was never going to post commentary until I did. I “knew” my username would never be seen by anyone aside from me, never to be affiliated with my commentary until it was.

I did. Each and every time I thought I would never, I did. I broke my own barriers with patience and some courage. Maybe the most intimidating aspect of something new is simply the beginning. I said earlier that I’ve been an island for nearly as long as I can remember. It’s still true, I don’t expect overnight results. It’s probably going to be true for a long time. Perhaps forever. But maybe it’s all the more reason why I should take this step toward peeking out of my self-imposed shell. Do what scares you, or whatever it is they say.

I wish I could say it was enough to reverse my earlier verdict.

Nope, I had to agonize some more.

What can I say? Fear is a damn powerful inhibitor.

Lo and behold, as if the universe took pity on me, I got the chance to communicate directly with the same awesome lady whom I quoted above and she kindly offered some more merciful wisdom to a truly maddeningly indecisive individual:

“When you create a blog, you are STILL anonymous. You have a username, yes, but it doesn’t lead back to you unless you want it to. You still have your personal privacy. Tumblr isn’t Facebook. If you want to disclose personal information, you can, but you certainly don’t have to.

And second, your blog is for you, not for anyone else. It’s for you to express your own opinions. Or create gifs or other visuals. Or just repost what other people create. You can be on every day, or just once a week. It’s also a great way to save stuff you might want to look at again. And then… and then… when brilliance suddenly hits you, you have somewhere to let it hang out! 😁”

It was much I had already considered, but it helped immeasurably to have my reasoning reaffirmed from an external source I respect. I logged into Tumblr for the first time the very same night.

After much deliberation, an uncharacteristic burst of bravery and a grueling four hours I owe to technological ineptitude, I have, tentatively and cautiously, opted to give this Tumblr thing a go.

With luck, a day will never arrive when I dust this preamble off for a much-needed pep talk. Instead, it is my hope that one day, this memo-to-me will stand as proof that I don’t always need to be afraid of the unknown. Not all endeavors have to be as frightening as they may appear. And if I can apply this attitude to all else suppressing my personal growth, I might just be peachy someday.

Bearing this in mind…

…here we go.

[hissyreviews]

September Reads!

Sooooo, who’s 12 days late to show all the books I read last month?

This bitch!

So here’s how I decided to do this end of the month wrap ups. I’m going to add a read more, give the back of the book summary, my snap thoughts, and then a rating. That way, if you don’t care for long posts you don’t have to suffer.

You’re welcome.

The Silence of the Lambs by Thomas Harris

A young FBI trainee. An evil genius locked away for unspeakable crimes. A plunge into the darkest chambers of a psychopath’s mind- in the deadly search for a serial killer. . . .

Thoughts: MMMM yes, this is the good shit. Hell to the bells yes. This is my shit. One of my faves. Top ten books read ever.

Rating: 10/10 would recommend

The Road by Cormac McCarthy

The Road is a profoundly moving story of a journey. It boldly imagines a future in which no hope remains, but in which a father and his son, “each the other’s world entire”, are sustained by love.

Thoughts: Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. This book is rough. This world is absolutely horrifying but the relationship that McCarthy crafts between the father and son is so emotional. I have heard that this is one of McCarthy’s least rough books to read in both emotional trauma and philosophical nihilism. (Also I think there was a Jesus allegory in the son. I don’t know why but it felt like he was the future religion. Look, I was too busy crying. I don’t think I could handle reading another McCarthy, alright?)

Rating: 4/10 I didn’t really like it but I think it’s like Pulp Fiction. Everyone should read it once.

The Beguiled by Thomas Cullinan

Wounded and near death, a young Union Army corporal is found in the woods of Virginia during the height of the Civil War and brought to the nearby Miss Martha Farnsworth Seminary for Young Ladies. Almost immediately he sets about beguiling the three women and five teenage girls stranded in this outpost of Southern gentility, eliciting their love and fear, pity and infatuation, and pitting them against one another in a bid for his freedom. But as the women are revealed for who they really are, a sense of ominous foreboding closes in on the soldier, and the question becomes: Just who is the beguiled?

Thoughts: This is one of those books that I came into with high hopes. The story itself was good. I liked the overall story. I was not fond of the writing style. It’s the 1960′s trying to emulate the 1860′s. Overall, it went over like a lead balloon.

Rating: 5/10 Take it or leave it. You’ll either like it or you wont. (Check it out at the library.)

The Ghost Map by Steven Johnson

It’s the summer of 1854, and London is seized by a violent outbreak of cholera that no one knows how to stop. As the epidemic spreads, a maverick physicians and a local curate are spurred to action, working to solve the most pressing medical riddle of their time. Ina a triumph of multidisciplinary thinking, Johnson illuminates the intertwined histories of the spread of disease, the rise of cities, and the nature of scientific inquiry, offering both a thrilling account of the most intense cholera outbreak to strike Victorian London and a powerful explanation of how it has shaped the world we live in.

Thoughts: I loved this. I know that history can be dry and dull but this had a dynamic way of speaking about the past. The writer is a journalist not a “true” historian so it makes for good reading. No shade, but many historians just write like dust. Sooo dry. Mmm, book good, much education. I feel illuminated.

Rating: 9/10 would recommend

Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann

In the 1920s, the richest people per capita in the world were members of the Osage Nation in Oklahoma. After oil was discovered beneath their land, they rode in chauffeured cars and lived in mansions.Then one by one, the Osage began to be killed. Mollie Burkhart watched as her family became a prime target. Her relatives were shot and poisoned. Other Osage were also dying under mysterious circumstances, and many of those who investigated the crimes were themselves murdered. As the death toll rose, the case was taken up by the newly created FBI and its young, secretive director, J. Edgar Hoover. Struggling to crack the mystery, Hoover turned to a former Texas Ranger named Tom White, who put together an undercover team, including a Native American agent. They infiltrated this last remnant of the Wild West, and together with the Osage began to expose one of the most chilling conspiracies in American History.

Thoughts: This is a book that will make your blood boil. It shows the blatant racism with an unapologetic stare. As an Irish Cherokee living in Oklahoma, I was biting my fist in rage throughout this entire book. These crimes, these absolutely disgusting crimes should be taught in history books. If you have no idea what this is about. Read the damn book. If you have an idea of the events. Read the damn book. If you live in Europe. Read the damn book. Events like this should never be forgotten. And God bless Mollie Burkhart. Read the book and you will feel that way too. Just read the book.

Rating: 10/10 read the damn book

The Circle by Dave Eggers

When Mae Holland is hired to work for the Circle, the world’s most powerful internet company, she feels she’s been given the opportunity of a lifetime - even as life beyond the campus grows distant, even as a strange encounter with a colleague leaves her shaken, even as her role at the Circle becomes increasingly public. What begins as the captivating story of one woman’s ambition and idealism soon becomes a heart-racing novel of suspense, raising questions about memory, history, privacy, democracy, and the limits of human knowledge.

Thoughts: Holy shit. This is why I don’t own a smart phone. Read this book and you will second glance at every piece of technology that you own. In thrillers I try to guess what is going to happen and I was wrong about the ending of this book. Which, to tell the truth, made me happy but I was paranoid about the ending. Like it feels like life is moving towards this kind of universe and I don’t like it. May I just say that I am Mercer.

Rating: 8/10 would recommend

Voices from Chernobyl by Svetlana Alexievich

On April 26, 1986, the worst nuclear reactor accident in history occurred in Chernobyl and contaminated as much as three quarters of Europe. Voices from Chernobyl is the first book to present personal accounts of the tragedy. Journalist Svetlana Alexievich interviewed hundreds of people affected by the meltdown - from innocent civilians to firefighters to those called in to clean up the disaster - and their stories reveal the fear, anger, and uncertainty with which they still live. Comprised of interviews in monologue form, Voices from Chernobyl is a crucially important work, unforgettable in its emotional power and honesty.

Thoughts: This book  will take you through every possible emotion known to man kind. Alright. Do not read this if you are in an emotionally compromised state. It will make it worse. That said, I truly believe that this is a pivotal piece to understand the Chernobyl disaster from the ground up instead of the top down view that much of the western world understands. Also, with that Chernobyl series this seems an apropos time to read this.

Rating: 9/10 Everyone should read this once.

Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi

Every Tuesday mornign for two years in the Islamic Republic of Iran, a bold and inspired teacher named Azar Nafisi secretly gathered seven of her most committed female students to read forbidden Western classics. As Islamic morality squads staged arbitrary raids in Tehran, fundamentalists seized hold of the universities, and a blind censor stifled artistic expression, the girls in Azar Nafisi’s living room risked removing their veils and immersed themselves in the worlds of Jane Austen, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Henry James, and Vladimir Nabokov. In this extraordinary memoir, their stories become intertwined with the ones they are reading. Reading Lolita in Tehran is a remarkable exploration of resilience in the face of tyranny and a celebration of the liberating power of literature.

Thoughts: You know a book that makes you frustrated with the author when they did something you know that they would regret in the past? I felt that. I won’t spoil it but I did say on multiple occasions “You asked for this!” This book is living proof of the old adage “Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.” Yeah, that’s what I felt and pity. There was some pity going on.

Rating: 8/10 Read it if you are interested in Middle Eastern history or women’s studies. I don’t think it’s everyone’s cup of tea.

The Perfect Girlfriend by Karen Hamilton

Juliette loves Nate. She will follow him anywhere. She’s even become a flight attendant for his airline so she can keep a closer eye on him. They are meant to be. The fact that Nate broke up with her six months ago means nothing. Because Juliette has a plan to win him back. She is the perfect girlfriend. And she’ll make sure no one stops her from getting exactly what she wants. True love hurts, but Juliette knows it’s worth all the pain. . .

Thoughts: This book is an easy read. It’s a day and a half for someone who reads a lot. Easy to get into, easy to understand, but it doesn’t act like it thinks you’re stupid. Creepy in the same way You was creepy. If you liked You you will like this book. If stalkers aren’t your thing avoid this one. I will say that I found the ending underwhelming. It felt like the author was tired of writing and just wanted to end the freaking book. Other than that, it was fine.

Rating: 6/10 Like You? Read this one.

The Trial of Lizzie Borden by Cara Robertson

When Andy and Abby Borden were brutally hacked to death in Fall River, Massachusetts, in August of 1892, the arrest of the couple’s daughter Lizzie turned the case into international news and her trial into a spectacle unparalleled in American history. Reporter flocked to the scene. Well-known columnists took up conspicuous seats in the courtroom. The defendant was relentlessly scrutinized for signs of guilt or innocence. Everyone - rich and poor, suffragists and social conservatives, legal scholars and laypeople - had an opinion about Lizzie Borden’s guilt or innocence. The popular fascination with the Borden murders and its central, enigmatic character has endured for more than a hundred years, but the legend often outstrips the story. Based on transcripts of the Borden legal proceedings, contemporary newspaper articles, previously withheld lawyer’s journals, unpublished local reports, and recently unearthed letters from Lizzie herself, The Trial of Lizzie Borden is a definitive account fo the Borden murder case and offers a window into America in the Gilded Age, showcasing its most deeply held convictions and its most troubling social anxieties.

Thoughts: I have always been fascinated with this case. It is one of the first nationally publicized cases and as such everyone knew. Can you imagine never being able to go anywhere without being recognized as the one woman who got away with murder? In America we still sing “Lizzie Borden took an axe, gave her mother forty whacks. When she saw what she had done, gave her father forty-one.” No one alive in America doesn’t know who Lizzie Borden is. If you like true crime and history you will like this. I think you probably would even if you aren’t a connoisseur of those genres. P.S. I still think Lizzie did it.

Rating: 9/10 would recommend

Jane Austen, the Secret Radical by Helena Kelly

An illuminating reassessment of the life and work of Jane Austen that makes clear how Austen has been misread for the past two centuries and how she intended her books to be read. In Jane Austen, the Secret Radical, Helena Kelly, dazzling Jane Austen authority, looks a the writer and her work in the context of Austen’s own time to reveal this popular, beloved artist as daring, even subversive in reaction to her roiling world and to show, novel by novel, how Austen imbued her books with radical, sometimes revolutionary ideas - on slavery, poverty, feminism and marriage as trapping women, on the Church, and evolution. We see that Austen was writing in a time when revolution was in the air (she was born the year before the American Revolution; the French Revolution began when she was thirteen). England had become a totalitarian state; Britain was at war with France. Habeas corpus had been suspended; treason, redefined, was no longer limited to actively conspiring to overthrow and to kill. It now included thinking, writing, printing, and reading (Tom Paine was convicted of seditious libel in 1792 for ideas considered dangerous to the state), the intention being to pressure writers and publishers to police themselves; those who criticized the government or who turned away from the Church of England were seen as betraying their country in its hour of need. In this revelatory, brilliant book, Kelly discusses each of Austen’s novels in the order in which they were written. Whether writing about the fundamental unfairness of primogeniture in Sense and Sensibility (influenced by Mary Wollstonecraft’s 1792 A Vindication of the Rights of Women) or about property and inheritance, war, revolution, and counterrevolution in Pride and Prejudice (Kelly describes the novel as a revolutionary fairy tale written in response to Edmund Burke’s Reflections on the Revolution in France) or about Mansfield Park, with its issues of slavery and the hypocrisy of the Church of England, we see Austen not as someone creating a procession of undifferentiated romances but as someone whose novels reflect back to her readers the world as it is - and was then - complicated, messy, and filled with error and injustice. We see a writer who understood that the novel - seen as mindless “trash” - could be a great art form and who, perhaps more than any other writer up to that time, imbued it with its particular greatness. And finally we see Austen - the writer; the artist; the serious, ambitious, clear-sighted woman “of information” - fully aware of what was going on in the world around her, clear about what she thought of it, and clear that she set out to write about it and to quietly, artfully make her ideas known.

Thoughts: Damn that synopsis. Advice for publishers: create an engaging synopsis in one to three paragraphs. That being said this was a fascinating read. I love Austen so I enjoyed having more context to the stories. Great for women’s studies, english literature and a perspective of slavery rarely mentioned (at least in my readings).

Rating: 9/10 will enjoy if you enjoy Austen

[words-writ-in-starlight]

I love the PJO!Diana so much? It's just- I just- wow? So amaze. Thank you for that.

“hey i might write more of that diana at camp halfblood au if anyone was interested” me, swooping in like a peregrine falcon: I AM INTERESTED!

Well, hell, I got free time.  The first bit is here.

Diana knocks lightly on the door of the white manor house and waits.  Her hair is tied back into a braid in the style of her home, easily managed for traveling, and she is dressed harmlessly, like a museum curator, with a red scarf wound loosely about her neck and her lasso tucked into her satchel.

“What?” demands an irritable voice from inside, and the door flies open without a sign of anyone beyond it.  Diana’s three companions, whose names she knows now, are still on the grass beyond the porch, watching her with varying degrees of pity and amusement.  She strides through the door without regard for either.

There is a man sitting at a card table, and he is playing cards with a centaur.

Well, all right, then.

“Sit,” the man says, pointing at a chair with a can of Diet Coke, and folds his hand of cards with a sigh.  Diana doesn’t sit, remains standing, polite but stubborn.  He looks up to her and she sees a glint of something in his eye, more than the portly middle-aged man with a bad-tempered set to his mouth he takes the form of.  Diana looks back and breathes the taste of wine in the air, and wonders what he sees in her eyes.  Truth.  Or maybe battle.

“So,” the man says.  “I heard you’d be coming.“

“And here I am,” she says.  “May I ask why I’m here?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Amazon?”

“Not particularly.”

Dionysus gestures expansively toward the windows, to the sprawling grounds outside.  “This is the largest gathering of halfbloods on Earth, girl.  And the whole lot of them were almost massacred in the war against the Titans last year.  They need a teacher–a real teacher, with real battle experience.  Chiron is all well and good, but every person who’s assisted him so far turned out to be evil, a robot, or both.”

Diana looks at him for a moment.  “And none of the gods will take that on?”

“Ha!”  He turns to the centaur.  Chiron.  Diana wants to speak with him so badly that it makes her chest ache–Chiron, trainer of heroes, who knew her mother when she led the Amazons to victory.  “Listen to her.”

“These are the gods’ children,” Diana says, keeping the edge out of her voice through main force.  “Is a museum curator the best they can find?”

Dionysus looks at her again, and his eyes glitter again, and Diana sets her jaw hard and stares back.

“A museum curator, no,” he says evenly, taking a drink of his Diet Coke.  “A warrior trained on Themyscira, though–a veteran of half a dozen wars and the inspiration for a fistful of legends.  We’ll take that.”  He scoffs.  “You don’t even know where your power comes from, do you, girl?”

“My power comes from my people,” Diana says, holding her head up under the weight of his derision.  “And from the life that Zeus gave me.”

“And from prayer.”  Dionysus stares her down, and his voice lowers, into something that creeps into her ears and paints pictures across her mind’s eye.  “From a thousand soldiers on a battlefield in Germany, who saw a goddess take the field alone.  From a concentration camp, who saw a gate ripped from its hinges.  From fearful children and refugees across the world, who saw a single woman go to war and win.”

Diana sees herself, or almost herself.  A figure ten feet tall, holding a shield in one hand and a flaming sword in the other, her skin glowing gold and her armor unmarred by the battle, casting down those unworthy with all her power behind every blow.  

She is unspeakable, untouchable, undefeatable–divine.

Dionysus’ voice creeps further, lower still.  “And all those people in all those countries told their children and their children’s children about the woman who had saved them, and they built you your very own religion.  You gain your immortality from our father.  You gain your power from them.”

Diana swallows and imagines an iron wall around her mind, and the images disappear.  There is only Dionysus and the taste of wine in the air, and she smiles at him, baring all of her teeth.

“I’ve defeated a god before,” she says.  “Stay out of my head.”

Dionysus, wonder of wonders, actually smiles back.  Only half mocking.  “You have potential, girl.  So.  Will you stay and instruct the brats, or will you go back to hiding in a museum?”

Resting a hand on the table, Diana considers the question.

Percy is sixteen years old and he has the eyes of a man in his fifth or sixth decade, the survivor of a prophecy that ate up dozens of children before it was exhausted.  Annabeth has a coil of grey hair that falls into her face even when she ties it back.  They are children and they are warriors and they need help.

“I’ll teach them what I know of fighting,” Diana says after a moment.  “But I’m a volunteer, not a prisoner.  I come and go as I please, and I won’t be beholden to Olympus or anyone who lives there.  Yourself included, Lord Dionysus.”

“Mister D, here,” he says.  “And those sound like satisfactory terms to me.”

“Right,” Diana agrees.  She knocks her knuckles against the table and says, “I’ll go see what your arena looks like.”  She starts toward the door and stops and turns back.  “And one more thing.  My name is Diana.”

“I know your name, girl.”

“Then,” Diana says sweetly, “I recommend you stop calling me girl.”

***

It’s at dinner that night that Diana meets the rest of her new students.  Camp Halfblood.  She’s almost endeared.  She’s had one or two people ask her if she’s been claimed yet, and Percy and Annabeth, her self-appointed guides after Rachel was dragged off on an errand, both snickered until they were blue in the face over it.

“Who was your mother?” Annabeth asked curiously after the second time the question was posed.  “A goddess?”

“My mother is Hippolyta, queen of the Amazons,” Diana said.  “She crafted me from clay and Zeus gave me life, as a weapon to protect them.”  She doesn’t know if this is the truth or if she is Zeus’ daughter in the more traditional sense, but she also doesn’t much care.

“Well damn,” Percy said, frankly impressed.

And now they are in a pavillion, with Diana at the head table and watching the students offer sacrifices to a brazier.  The smoke billows thick and heady, and Diana watches it rise with a considering eye.  How much of a god is she, then?  If she gains power from prayer, from belief, as Dionysus implied, then could she gain strength from a sacrifice the same way they do?  If someone knew her name to direct a prayer, would she hear it?

Camp Halfblood has ice cream, and it’s magnificent.  Diana elects not to think about sacrifices, and Dionysus waits for everyone to be seated again before he stands up.

“Right,” he says, his voice carrying even though he sounds bored.  “New instructor.  You,” he says, pointing to her.  “Stand up.”  Diana simply looks at him until he sighs and says, “Please.”  Once she’s standing, she offers a wry little wave to the pavillion and tries not to look at how empty it seems, far too few people to fill the tables.

“This is Diana,” Dionysus announces.  “She’s going to teach you how to kill things more competently than you currently do.  Introduce yourself or something.”

“All right,” she says, because it seems fair enough even though he’s clearly using it as an excuse to sit back down and ignore her.  The students–campers?–are attentive, though.  “My name is Diana, princess of Themyscira.  I am an Amazon and I have a great deal of combat training.  I look forward to working with you all.“  She considers for a moment and adds, “Are there any questions?”

“I thought the Amazons vanished like thousands of years ago,” a voice from the crowd calls.

“Themyscira is a hidden island in the Atlantic, so, yes, they did vanish but we’re still alive, anyone else?”

“Are you a halfblood?” another voice shouts, and Diana purses her lips.

“Not…as such,” she says carefully.  “My position is–under debate.”  Dionysus snorts at that.  

Percy, sitting near the front where he can see Diana–she thinks that he did it as a kindness, so that she could see someone familiar nearby, and she’s touched by it–gestures to get her attention and smirks as he says, “You’d better just tell them.”

Diana glances briefly at Dionysus–this is his home ground, his approval to give–and then sighs and looks back at the curious faces spread out like a small lake.

“A century ago,” she says, “I left Themyscira and fought a god to end a World War.  I was–I was naive, I suppose.  Until then, I didn’t know what I was.”  She has never said this out loud.  To anyone.  It takes an act of will to force the words out.  “I’ve never been to Olympus and I certainly don’t live there, but I am the daughter of Zeus, and I am a god.”

The pavillion explodes into shouting, and Diana sits down.  Percy grins at her and salutes with a glass of something in a truly toxic shade of blue, and Diana grins back.

“You’ll fit in just fine,” Dionysus sighs.

Diana considers that for a moment, picking up a wine glass that fills itself with pale gold liquid at her touch.  A sip reveals that it is wine from Themyscira, the crisp sweet white that Diana always favored, and Dionysus gives the glass a slightly betrayed look.

“I think I’m offended by that,” Diana decides at last.

“That’s fair,” Dionysus concedes, and slams his Diet Coke like a shot of tequila.

[melchixr]

Curator’s Assistant (part four) ((finally))

Anon said:  I just read your Currators Assistant fic and its? So good?? Do you think there will be a part 4 up anytime soon?

BIH my life has been wild lately. I’m writing and directing a play???? I’m morticia in addams family?????? I’ve written two short film scripts and I’m currently in the process of directing and acting in one of them???????????? life is wild. so sorry i haven’t been writing for this blog lately. i still love it so much i just never have time????

words: 1400

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

“That is the single most illegal thing I can think of.”

“Wendla, I’m begging you,” I pleaded and leaned against the desk. “I’ll do literally anything for you to tell  me his address.”

The very pretty museum docent laughed. “You really think I am going to just tell you where this kid lives? You could go and murder him with that information! We all know that you hate him. It was a fact Hanschen used at Staff Trivia Night.”

Instead of asking why I wasn’t invited to Staff Trivia Night (which might be because I once told Hanschen to suck his own dick in front of a crowd on ten year olds when he got the year on a painting wrong), I just looked into her big blue eyes and pouted some more.  “Melchi, I love you but you’re an idiot.” She said jarringly. “What makes you think I even know how to get that information. I just greet people who come in and tell them where the bathrooms are.”

“Well… Your best friend is the registrar….”

After a long pause, Wendla let out a long sigh. “Do you want me...To break into Martha’s office? Like a common criminal?”

“Well if she were still here three hours after closing, I would just ask her. But since we’re the only two here with no lives on a Saturday night, I gotta ask you. So pretty please?”

The woman stepped out from behind the tall desk. She was definitely beautiful. She had this charming, youthful glow about her that made her feel like a little girl. But she was in no way childish. Wendla had put me in my place more times than I’d like to admit. And with her wife, Ilse, being head of security, I pity any man who dare mistake that childish glow for ignorance. I once watched her scissor kick a grown man in a bar for asking her what color her panties were.

“Fine,” She muttered and glared at me with the rage of a billion sons. “But only if you tell me why.”

My defenses suddenly went up. All senses were standing on high alert as I responded instinctively. “What? I don’t need to explain myself to anyone!”

“If you’re having them do illegal activities for you, then yes, you do!”

Damn, she’s right.

After a pause to think, I took a deep breath. I was definitely not ready. But I didn’t think I’d ever be.  As I spoke, I untucked the bottom of my dress shirt. “Ok so...Do you know how you felt they day you found out Ilse was your soulmate?”

Wendla looked at the red lettering on her forearm. Her eyes were filled with nostalgic joy. “Oh yeah... first day of senior year and she had just transferred to my school. And we were in English together. I thought she was funny and smart so I invited her to have lunch with my group. Then when she sat at the table and asked me what I was having….I felt like a thousand needles were pressing my arm.” She looke dup for only a moment, breaking out of her memories. “It was amazing…”

“Were you scared?”

“Not really,” Wendla replied. “I was so happy to have met my soulmate. And to have a soulmate so pretty and smart and charming. And also get to start having guilt free sex with her and know it was for the rest of my life.” She looked down to see me unbuttoning my shirt from the bottom. “What the hell are you doing?”

Instead of responding, I lifted up my shirt to reveal my right ribcage. What used to be covered in black writing was not dotted in a very light red. But what it was is still very obvious. “Because I was really afraid.”

“Holy shit, Melchior,” She gasped. “Why didn’t you tell anyone. Who is it?” Normally, soulmates are a big deal. You find out who yours is and you tell everyone you know. Your coworkers, your family, your dog, the strangers you see on the street. People tend to throw parties even, introducing themselves to the world as a sign that true love is everywhere.

But I let my silence speak for me instead. Just like how I was deadly silent the day it happened. Wendla knew almost immediately, telling by my expression. “Oh no… It’s Moritz isn’t it.”

I let my shirt fall back down and buttoned it again. “And the day after it turned, he resigned. Didn’t even tell it to my face. Just dropped it in my office on top of his completely cleared of desk. Didn’t even sign it.”

Wendla didn’t say anything. She seemed to just know immediately what she had to do and took off towards the stairs.

As I waited for courage in the dimly lit parking lot, I rolled over my options. A large part of my brain told me to toss the paper right out the window. I could just do what I’m good at and ignore it.

Ignore it by having sex with strangers who also hadn’t met their soulmate’s yet and playing pretend that the words on their body were my own.

Telling people who asked that I was one of the rare ones who just doesn’t have a soulmate and play pretend to be the one in a million.

Making plans to live out the rest of my life alone with a cat and a library and play pretend that I don’t want to wake up next to someone every day.

Just go home and take a cold shower and play pretend that the words are still black and I still don’t know who it could possibly do.

But my eyes trailed back to the piece of paper in the passenger seat. On it was a hastily scribbled address in pen along with a doodled heart and a small ‘go get him!’.

I couldn’t help but put Moritz’s face on all the fantasizes I’d been having since I was a little kid. Of taking my soulmate to a park and holding their hand. Going ice skating with my soulmate in the winter and cuddling in the taxi on the way home. Baking bread with my soulmate and messing up the recipe but not caring because they’re so cute. Having my soulmate steal my blankets from me in the middle of the night and getting revenge by tickling them until they beg for mercy.

All my life, that soulmate had been a blur. A shapeless, faceless form that carried all my hopes and dreams for a perfect life.  Now it’s Moritz Stiefel with his dumb messy pouf of hair and his dark circles under his hazel eyes. And his long, pale face framed perfectly by that pair of crooked glasses that sat so precariously on his nose. And the splash of dark freckles that marked randomly along his cheeks and neck.

44 Oxford Street

Suite 2

And my car was pulling out of the parking lot.

Oxford Street wasn’t too far from Bellevue Road, where I knew Otto lived. And if I go from there onto Stoneybrook Street and took one more left onto  Bradford Lane, it’s right there.

The apartments were smaller than I imagined. Just a little two story brick duplex. It was perfect split into two narrow halves with two doors, each other having a small front porch. That of Suite 1 had a plethora of potted plants all with little garden ornaments and trinkets in them, as well as an American flag and a “This House and My Heart Belongs To My Yorkie” sign.

Suite 2 had a dead plant and one overflowing ashtray.

My mind sure new how to pick them.

For a long while, I just sat in my car in front of the house. The neighborhood seemed nice, sorta busy, but still cozy. It seemed like a nice place to live. So why should I come barging in and ruining it all for him. He left for a reason. So who the hell am I to track him down after he very specifically did all he could to get away from me?

His fucking soul mate that’s who.

I made sure to not look back as I charged toward the front door on a mission to fall head over heels for this human trainwreck.

[khiphopfrictionals]

Ten Toes Down: (3/10) Gray AU

“Loco’s half blind with fury.” Simon says, only he and Sunghwa is left in the room.

“He doesn’t like the fact you ditched him, again, and you left your life-saving gun in my care, and here’s where I actually agree with him for once, he’s technically responsible for your safety.” Simon says as a matter of fact.

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” Sunghwa snaps.

“I told him you’d say that,” the other politely reaffirms.

“And I trust you with a fucking gun. Besides, the girl is hardly any danger to me.” Sunghwa quickly says.

“I told him that too,” Simon grits out, “Only, funny thing is, he fucking didn’t get it because half of fucking Korea has a reason to assassinate you.”

“Stop visiting E-Sens,” Sunghwa chuckles, “His paranoia is contagious. But before you do, ask him why Insomnia seems to be short on earnings yet again, compared to the alcohol that gets consumed there.”

Simon appears to be strangely lacking interest for that grievous state of affairs.

“I did explain it to Loco that he’d better not check my patience and stay away as directed,” Simon begins, “And that he has no authority over me or,” he smirks. “Over you.”

Sunghwa whirls and send Simon a murderous look.

“You,” Sunghwa points to the other, “Have no fucking authority over him either. I trust you. Be damn glad I do.”

Simon didn’t let his reaction show, “But don’t start this petty war with him again. I, and only I can tell him what to do or not to do where my well-being is concerned. Do you get it?” Sunghwa demands deceptively calmly.

“Fuck you, Gray.” Simon puts his hands into his pockets, “Why don’t you stop the charade?” The older man begins.

“So what? She looks like your dead girlfriend. You want to fucking pull her into hell and back? She doesn’t belong in our fucked up world,” Simon says.

“Don’t you have some other places to be?” Sunghwa says to Simon as a dismissal. No one dismisses Simon, not even Sunghwa.

“The streets are fucking talking, Gray.” Simon’s tone is dripping with innuendo.

“About your new girl. I don’t know what the fuck you are doing but you should know first-hand that people like us,” Simon signals to himself and Sunghwa, “We only kill the people most precious to us.” Simon words are fill with hatred.

Sunghwa didn’t reply. His expression unreadable.

“All eyes are fucking watching her, Gray. Any affection you show towards her will only hurt her in the long run. You want her? Fine. But make people believe she’s your pet not your fucking lover.” Simon warns him carefully.

Sunghwa knows Simon’s words are true.

//

By the time Sunghwa gets back to the penthouse, it is already dark outside. His mood is murderous at this point but when he catches sight of you, head down on the living room table and body wrap in a blanket, Sunghwa can’t help but smile.

Your position only have one explanation – you must have fallen asleep waiting for him.

He walks toward you, bending his knee to get eye to eye level with you. Petting your hair softly, not wanting to wake you up. His hand cuffs your cheek and you stir, moving your face closer to his hand.

Your eyes flutter open, “Hi.” You whisper.

“Hi.” Sunghwa whispers back.

“How was your meeting?” You ask.

“Could have been better,” Sunghwa says quickly, moving his hand from your face.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, lifting your head upward.

“Nothing that I can’t fix,” Sunghwa says a little too icy, “I’ve been thinking. If it pleases you to meet my acquaintances, I will arrange it.”

You grin brightly, glad the man has a sudden change of heart.

//

Sunghwa decides on an art gallery touring event to introduce you to his ‘acquaintances’ as he puts it.

As usual, you wait for the man to pick you up at The Reds after your shift.

You fret about your clothes the whole day, finally putting on your best sophisticated dress, hoping that galleries aren’t strict about the dress code, if there’s even a dress code for an afternoon gallery touring.

It turns out you didn’t need to bother, as Sunghwa is wearing just a pair of dark trousers and a blazer that pretends to be a suit jacket.

“I hope you’re the alternative art kind of girl.” Sunghwa says, giving you a smile as he starts the car.

You blushes pink. The man never fails to make you blush.

Gallary FACTOR is a medium-sized gallery, exhibiting mostly the indie kind of art, by both well-known artists and beginners. Its main specialty are painting and sculpture but if you’re honest with yourself, you have to confess you don’t know anything about modern alternative art.

You keep staring at the paintings with a straight face and sending a gallery curator polite smiles when Sunghwa isn’t looking. You didn’t want to be accused of being too friendly with strangers again though honestly, the last time at the cinema has been the result of the man’s sour mood and nothing else.

The two of you are standing in front of a big picture of something relatively resembling a half-eaten rabbit when you hear someone approaching.

“Gray!”

You turn even faster than the addressee and see a tan handsome man in a light colored suit giving a cheeky smile.

“Cha Cha, what are you doing here?” Sunghwa finds his voice and crosses his arms.

“And if it isn’t Gray’s cutie.” The man name Cha Cha completely ignores the irritated man and winks at you.

You dumbly stare back at him.

“Chase,” the man smiles charmingly.

You’re confused. Sunghwa just called the man Cha Cha. It must be a ‘my name at work’ kind of thing like how people call Sunghwa, Gray.

“Hi, I’m ___.” You take his hand, trying not to appear to be staring at him.

“I know.” The man rolls his eyes, “Everyone knows.”

“Which is fucking curious considering I haven’t told anyone.” Sunghwa spats before you can further express your confusion.

“A birdie told a birdie, and who am I to shoot birds?” Cha Cha didn’t seem to care about the taller man’s frustration.

“He’s quite a brute, isn’t he?” Chase whispers mock-confidentially to you and puts his arm on your shoulders.

“Cha Cha.” That’s a warning. Not even a conceal one.

“I wouldn’t dare.” The man purposely draws out the last word. He gives you a light pat and withdraws his arm, giving Sunghwa a look saying ‘You’re ridiculous but I’ll humor you’.

“What are you doing here?” Sunghwa makes it clear it is the last time he’s going to ask and comes closer to you, so that your bodies are touching.

You fidgets.

“Same reason as you. Beenzino is holding an exhibition and he invited me like how he invited you.” Chase replies, his tongue in his cheek, “You’re acting like a dragon.”

“Dragon?” You relaxes once that the hold on your arm lessened.

“I know but why are you here. You never go to these events.” Sunghwa didn’t pay you any mind, his attention solely on Chase.

“Wait, how much did he pay them to show his works?” Now Sunghwa sounds bewildered.

“Like Smaug. Guarding his treasure.” Chase winks at you again and you valiantly control your blush, “Of course, they’re not his works.” Chase turns to Sunghwa.

“He’s not that rich yet. Just another of his pet projects.”

Sunghwa hides his eyes behind his hand.

“Tell me this one is better than the last.”

“Well, how to put it.” Chase’s tongue is back in the man’s cheek, “He’s not doing the exhibition in his own gallery. You do the math.”

Sunghwa groans and you have to grin, despite having no recollection of anyone called Beenzino.

“Come on, they’re all waiting to see you.” Chase waves toward the next door.

Sunghwa didn’t make an attempt to dissuade Chase and on their slow way there, you manage to whisper when Chase is straightening up his jacket.

“Who’re ‘they?”

“You say you wish to meet my acquaintances,” Sunghwa gives you a look conveying slight pity. You bristles, glaring at him. Sunghwa’s arm sneaks around your waist.

“Chase works with me. Beenzino – Sungbin, is his acquaintance, he likes dabbling in art, though his own talent is…”

“Yet to be found.” Chase’s voice makes you jump, but Sunghwa wasn’t even startle.

“He owns three art galleries. He’s better at selling paintings than creating them.”

“Just don’t….” Chase appears to be fighting with a bubbling laughter.

“… Mention that to him.” Sunghwa finishes.

You grin, but obediently nods. So this is it? You’re finally meeting Sunghwa’s friends.

Cha Cha, well Chase, is the first guy with whom Sunghwa seems to genuinely get on well and your heart speeds up. You should feel happy that Sunghwa proves to be capable of maintaining a friendship but Chase makes you nervous.

“Who else is here?” Sunghwa addresses Chase over your head.

“Bora. And Hyorin.” The man purses his lips. “Dok2 is somewhere, I’m not sure where he’s at.”

“Oh, Hyorin must be rejoicing.” Sunghwa chuckles, “Another pet project.”

“Yeah, she’s bursting with joy, if the amount of champagne she’s consumed is any indication.” Chase delicately touches his hair, probably to determine the condition of his do, “She’s more beaten-doggish than normally.”

“I can’t imagine why.” Sunghwa gives him a sidelong glance and the man pouts.

You just continue to smile shyly. Sunghwa’s friends sounded fascinating.

The three of you finally got to the door and Chase holds it open for Sunghwa and you. Firmly keeping you close to himself, Sunghwa walk you inside.

“Sunghwa!” A man with a mole beneath his eye immediately saunters to you guys, “What a surprise.”

“You wouldn’t believe.” Sunghwa smiles back, “How’s your new project?”

“Fabulous.” The man who must be Beenzino- Sungbin, motions to the walls covered with colorful paintings, “Just take a look around.”

Sunghwa didn’t even move an inch, so you quickly scan the room, trying to look apologetic.

“You’re the famous ___, right?” Once again someone you never heard about seems to recognize you.

Instead of introducing himself like Chase, Beenzino just taxes you from top to toe, “Quite beautiful.” You open your mouth to say anything, because you aren’t okay with being treated like an object and wishes Sunghwa would really make an effort to defend you, rather than stand here looking complacent.

“Cha Cha hasn’t tried anything yet?” Sungbin asks.

“She’s not my type,” The man emerged from nowhere.

Beenzino arches an eyebrow.

“I didn’t realize you had a type.” Sunghwa’s expression mirrors the gallery owner’s one.

“Everyone has a type.” Chase shoots back.

“Yours requires a hole.” Beenzino’s cultural voice is at odds with the crude word.

The insulted man folds his arms. Sunghwa embraces you even more tightly, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Piss off.” Chase finally cracks up.

“Not so fast.” Beenzino’s hand smoothed the other’s impeccable jacket, “Just name one person we both know you haven’t slept with.”

You’re quickly losing yourself in the sensation of Sunghwa’s skin. Following the men’s conversation requires minimal knowledge of their habits anyway. Plus, you sort of dislike Beenzino or Sungbin. Whatever his name is.

“Gray.” The man shoots and you hear Sunghwa chuckles.

Beenzino smiles a bit too and another person is already walking up to them.

“Darling?” A thin woman approaches the conversation, giving Chase a small peck, “I’m Bora Yoon. You must be, ___.” she nods at you, a polite smile never leaving her face.

Accustomed to being recognized by strangers at this point, you only nod back. Then, you realizes you have seen her before, somewhere…

“You’re a model!” You blushes at you boldness. Everyone stares at you, “I mean, I’ve seen you in a magazine…”

“I’m not going to hide that.” Bora shrugs elegantly, “But I’m here privately, not for business.”

“She’s my girlfriend.” Chase pulls her to himself.

Bora purses her lips.

“No, Chase dear, when will you learn? You’re my boyfriend.” She corrects him like a mother scolding a particularly dumb son.

Chase sighs exaggeratedly. Sunghwa grins at Bora, obviously agreeing with her.

“Now Sungbin.” Bora offers her hand to Beenzino, “I believe you have some new guests. Moreover, we’ve left poor Stefanie alone with Hyorin. Let’s leave the boys in peace.” She allows herself to be steer towards a low table with wine glasses and small tapas, “Excuse us.”

Chase seems relieve to be rid of her, or maybe Beenzino. He beams at you.

“So, you’re gonna take a look now that the hyenas gone? It’s some erotic stuff.” Chase leans against a wall while Sunghwa and you dutifully inspects the first painting.

There is something like a circle with a run-over turtle inside, and no matter how much you tilt your head, you couldn’t find the promised eroticism.

“Call me a barbarian, Chase.” Sunghwa finally snaps, “But what the hell am I looking at?”

You, despite sharing his doubts, have to bit you lip when you notices Chase’s offended face.

“A bicolour stain.” Chase gives his professional opinion, “How could I fucking know? I meant her.” He inclines his head towards a young woman in the middle of the room.

She was thin, wearing tight clothes and is currently talking to Bora.

“Please.” Sunghwa measures the girl up, “Don’t tell me you want her.”

“Why not?”

“Because Beenzino is going to throw a fit.”

You have an uncomfortable feeling the two men are discussing the author of the paintings.

“It’s his damn fault if he can’t keep his pets satisfied.” Chase looks pretty used to converse about his conquest plans with his girlfriend five meters away.

Oh, right. He is her boyfriend, not the other way around. Though how the relationship in which the woman knows her boyfriend sleeps around, you do not comprehend.

“Give him a rest.” Sunghwa’s eyes are hard but the man wasn’t paying attention. Besides, the artist is already making her way towards them.

“Uh-oh, she’s coming for an autograph.” Chase whispers theatrically.

You blink with surprise, because for the first time tonight you realized that everyone that you’re met so far seems to crave Sunghwa’s attention – one way or another.

“Mr. Lee and Mr. Malone,” the artist greets them to a beaming grin, “Welcome to my exhibition.”

Before Chase could say whatever it he wants to say, Sunghwa beats him to it.

“It’s Beenzino’s exhibition. You’re just the topic.” Sunghwa states coldly, running his fingers up and down your arm. By the way, Sunghwa could really cut down on the public displays of affection.

The artist startled and nervously tugs at her sleeve. You wishes to stomp hard on Sunghwa’s foot but it will just cause a scene.

“He finds me… Of interest.” The artist, Stefanie, you remember, defends herself weakly.

“But you’ve already exhausted mine.” Sunghwa didn’t even blink.

The young woman pales, apologizes and bolt away.

Chase stalks after her, his expression disapproving.

As soon as they are out of the hearing range, you turn to face Sunghwa.

“What are you doing?”

Sunghwa has the nerve to act unsure, “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” You parrots, arms on your hips, “How could you say that to her?”

Sunghwa smirks. Smirks!

“Oh, come on.” Sunghwa tries to scoop you to him, but you wriggle free, “I just gave Cha Cha an opportunity to sugar-coat her into his bed.”

“What?” You ask, still bewildered.

“He’s got a chance to play the ‘good one’. Besides, the girl is a fucking pitiful artist.” Sunghwa stretches his arms.

You hates how Sunghwa would sometimes take to swearing, curses becoming up to half of his speech.

“Like how I’m a fucking pitiful waitress?” You attack and takes a step back just in case the man attempts to pet you into calmness.

“So that’s what it is about?” Sunghwa’s face says that he knows exactly the reason for your retreat, “You’re feeling fucking insecure?”

If you have been in a state of mind to do it, you would have point out that Sunghwa couldn’t blame you for that.

“When I see the way you talk to Stefanie…”

“Bullshit.” Sunghwa snorts, “You don’t give a shit about her. You’re afraid I’m playing you.” He pins you with his eyes, daring you to disagree.

You should have said that yes, it bothers you a bit, but not as much as Sunghwa’s general attitude because as long as obliviousness was excusable, hurting people intentionally wasn’t.

“You’re surprised?” You choke out instead, startled by the sudden proximity. Sunghwa literally have you in a corner.

“Sweetheart.” Sunghwa puts his arm on a wall just next to your head, preventing you from moving or turning away.

The man never uses endearments. It sounded suspiciously like mocking or the last shreds of patience, “If I wanted to fucking play that game with you, I would have found the most terrifying man in Seoul to scare you into running straight into my outstretched arms.” Sunghwa’s nose is touching your rapidly paling cheek.

“Should I be grateful you didn’t?” You’re pushing the man away, momentarily petrified of how close he is. The line between Sunghwa’s seriousness and kidding is blurring alarmingly fast.

The man surprises you by leaning back, grinning.

“You should have realized that’s not how I see you.” Sunghwa lightly traces a line on your cheek.

“I don’t play Cha Cha’s games. I may help him.” He pauses at your lips, “But I don’t copy him. Never. I do things my way.” Sunghwa kisses you, slowly, drawing it out and you, while outwardly moaning and clutching onto him, inwardly despairs that yes, this man always did things his way. He always gets them his way.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You jerk back at that, but Sunghwa holds you in place, smirking against your lips. Only when he decides you guys are done did he releases you.

“The alluring artist sent you to hell?” Sunghwa questions without taking his eyes off you. You couldn’t help but smile, embarrassed by the intensity you see in Sunghwa’s eyes.

“Nope.” Chase drawls. You could imagine him rolling his eyes or making an exasperated face, “Tomorrow. The Cherry Blossom. At ten.”

“What the fuck is The Cherry Blossom?” Sunghwa regretfully steps back, giving you a chance to breathe properly again.

“A Japanese club in Gangnam.” The shorter man says patronizingly, “You should go out more.”

“Unlike some people, I have standards.” Sunghwa fleetingly glances at you, “A Japanese club, Cha Cha? Really? Afraid she’ll stand you up and you’ll need to resort to geishas?”

“Geishas sell their skills, not their bodies.” Chase recites, ��Though, they haven’t seen me yet.”

“Whatever.” Sunghwa suddenly becomes serious. He put one hand into his pocket and another loosely through your loop. You immediately flushes at the slightly gesture, “Beenzino won’t be pleased.”

“It’s the girl’s problem to keep it secret, isn’t it?”

“You know fucking well she won’t. Hyorin is already after you, do you need another furious woman at your back?” Sunghwa’s eyes flickered to a tan girl at the table. Like Bora, she was wearing an elegant, sexy dress, but instead of that of hospitality, his expression screams loudly she would rather be rolling in dung than admiring those paintings.

“Hyorin should fucking get over it.” Chase grits out, sending the man an annoying glance, “It was a one-night stand.”

“Maybe you should have informed her of that before, huh, you bedroom genius?” Sunghwa sounds angry, though why he would be angry with Chase’s sex life miscommunication was beyond you. Truthfully, you would rather they just stopped discussing sex altogether.

“I thought it was clear.” Chase hisses.

“You should thank fucking God she’s still hoping to make you miss her instead of planning your quick demise.” Sunghwa pretends to smile.

Chase looks murderous.

“See you around, Gray. Tell Jay I send my greetings.” Chase pretends to have been called by Bora, who hadn’t even looked at him once, “Hopefully you’ll decide to act like an adult then. But with the company you’re keeping….” He makes a face at you, who recoils. You had pegged Chase as a nice guy.

“You’re not the one to talk.” Sunghwa replies with a face of a man who knew he had won and wasn’t modest not to show it, “I think we’ll be leaving anyway.”

A weight disappeared from your chest at that. You have longed to meet Sunghwa’s friends, but now that you have – they’re just a brunch of rich, judgmental snobs. You see the way they look at you. It’s just the way Hyuk-woo looks at you – disgust, as if you’re not a match for Sunghwa.

They look at you as if you’re beneath the ad exec.

“Your friends hate me.” You throw yourself onto the car seat.

“I haven’t noticed.” Sunghwa calmly climbs into his.

“Of course you haven’t, you were too caught up in your macho, I’m-the-coolest-guy-out-there act and I swear, I have never felt more humiliated in my life….” You halt, noticing Sunghwa’s amused expression.

“You’re finished?”

“Finished? You, your friends, y-you.” You swallows the tears welling in your eyes, “You all treated me like a thing. A-a play-thing.” You keep on nervously picking at the hem of your dress.

“I don’t kiss things.” You didn’t see but hears Sunghwa’s smirk. You come to hate that smirk, it causes you to feel even smaller than you are.

“Great, joke about it all you want, I’m done.” With a sudden surge of adrenaline, you presses the door handle. You may regret it tomorrow, regret it all your life but you will not stay and let yourself be ridiculed by the man you loved and…

The door didn’t even budge.

You presses again, this time pushing at it with all you weight. It stays as it is, no matter how much you try and elbows it, and the tears prevents you from seeing clearly and your heart is beating itself into a full-blown panic.

A hand touches you. And a second one. Then, you’re being pulled against a strong chest and no matter how safe you feel there, it’s not a place to be at the moment.

“Th-the door.” You blink the moisture away, or at least some part of it. You surge towards the stubborn door, but you’re being kept back. You actually attempts to elbow Sunghwa, but despite both of your bodies touching the man ducks it.

“Calm the fuck down.” Sunghwa snaps, probably irritated at the near-assault, “It’s closed.”

“I want to get out, now, open the door and…”

“No.”

It is thoroughly unnecessary to say that when Sunghwa is in the process of catching your hands and pinning them above that your head.

“Sunghwa, it’s not funny.” You wiggle even harder, muscles straining and the breath escaping you much too fast.

“Right, it’s not, so stop this fucking drama.” Sunghwa spins you around so the two of you are facing each other.

Sunghwa looks positively pissed off.

“Drama?” Despite the current situation, your first instinct was to placate him. You curses yourself.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sunghwa spats, “You kept whining how you wanted to meet my friends. I told you I don’t have friends. You met my acquaintances and you’re still unhappy? That they weren’t to your liking? Well, fucking forgive me for not working with people as cool as your Jessi.”

“They’re cool.” You whispers, “They’re just… Judgmental. They treated me like a kid.” You didn’t dare use the ‘play-thing’ expression again. You just wants Sunghwa to calm down, release you and go back to behaving normally. No matter how un-normal it is. Maybe you’re over-reacting. Maybe that’s those people’s regular conduct, maybe you’re a closeted child that couldn’t handle criticism.

“You’re a kid.” Sunghwa smiles teasingly, “And they’re all idiots.”

“You.” You bit your lips, grateful at being gifted back with your freedom of movement, “You can’t call everyone you find annoying or un-cooperative an idiot.” You’re pathetic enough to defend people who wouldn’t move a finger to aid you.

“They are idiots.”

Totally hopeless.

“Please, listen.” You gently pushes Sunghwa’s mouth away from yours. You will not be kissed into silence, “It’s just… They frightened me. Sungbin spoke of me as if of one of his paintings…”

“He called you beautiful.” Sunghwa reminds you with fondness. He remembers the exchange? And he still couldn’t see anything wrong with it?

“He humiliated me…”

“Forget about it.” Sunghwa whispers hotly.

“They just didn’t know how to treat you. They’ll learn.” Sunghwa promises, a bit darkly, attacking your neck, “Beenzino pissed you off? I’ll talk to him, you want that?”

Your muddled brain functioned well enough to shout it isn’t the best course of action. It’s better to keep your head down. If Sunghwa went to war with his friends because of you, they will never accept you.

“N-no, it’s alright.” You surrenders, yielding under the man’s cares, “Just protect me next time?” You pleads quietly with a soft kiss of your own to Sunghwa.

“Always. You’re mine and all they can do is stare.” Sunghwa chuckles claiming your lips.

This time, you let yourself be kissed into silence.

[psychicmedium14]

What Your Astrological Sign Says About What Kind of Ex-Girlfriend You Are

Sure, you know what kind of girlfriend you are based on your zodiac sign, but what kind of ex are you? Read on to find out what the stars have to say about your breakup style. Aquarius: The Ex Who Doesn't Look Back: Honestly, PHEW, you're glad things are over now, because you were starting to feel a little cramped. You're super independent, Aquarius, and you need to feel like you have space to be who you want to be, or else you get antsy. You tend to not get bent out of shape after a breakup. After all, your witty conversational skills and charisma make everyone you meet feel super important, which makes it super easy for people to fall for you, HARD. But if someone bores you or can't keep up that signature Aquarius banter, you're out. Most Likely to Be Doing This After a Breakup: Finally booking that trip you've always wanted to talk about. You finally have all this time! What did you even do when you were dating someone? How did you even LIVE? Situation in Which You'd Most Likely Run into Your Ex: You're out and about they walk by. They're super awkward about the whole thing, which you don't really understand, until you realize you were on a date with someone much hotter than your ex. Pisces: The Nice Ex: Selfless Pisces! You work too hard and are far too nice and trusting to everyone. Your friends are stoked for your break up. They're sick of watching your current boo treat you like any less than the queen that you are, and can't WAIT for you to find someone better. You're hella compassionate and kind, so you try to keep things as amicable as possible with your exes. But your sensitive side means that you also feel breakups pretty intensely. Maybe you didn't even love them! But the second you break up, you're left wondering Was this person my soulmate? Will I spend the rest of my LIFE ON THIS PLANET pining for them? Luckily the answer is no. Your kind, compassionate nature is like friggin' catnip for All the Hot Singles In Your Area and you are able to find new boos to take your mind off of things pretty easily. Most Likely to Be Doing This After a Breakup: Starting a poetry blog that goes viral. Situation in Which You'd Most Likely Run into Your Ex: They start following your work and accidentally like something on your Instagram from a very chill 38 weeks ago. Aries: The Ex That Got Away: All your exes miss you immediately. Once you're no longer together, they realize just how much they missed that signature Aries wild-streak of spontaneity and confidence. Too bad that's not your problem anymore! It's not like you're sad that you guys broke up because you really miss them — it's more like you're a little insulted they didn't wanna hang around your greatness anymore? Whatever though, you're not bothered you tell yourself while toggling between the 17 OkCupid tabs you have open and swiping with abandon on Tinder. Most Likely to Be Doing This After a Breakup: Gong on a blind date within 24 hours of your breakup. Hey, why wait? Situation in Which You'd Most Likely Run into Your Ex: They "accidentally" (read: on purpose) run into you by school/work/that bar you always go to with your friends. It doesn't work and you see right through it though, so lmao. Taurus: The Chill Ex: You approach everything super logically, so once you figure out that you guys weren't going to spend the rest of your lives together, you no longer care. Your reliable and stable nature means you often stay friends with exes after the fact. While you may think nothing of it (practically speaking, you'd never date the same person twice. On-and-off-again relationships just don't make sense to you, time-wise), just know that every time you hang out as friends, they're running through your entire relationship in their head, wondering if you'll ever give them a second chance. Most Likely to Be Doing This After a Breakup: Shopping for a new wardrobe or curating some other aspect of your life to your typical Taurusian perfection Situation in Which You'd Most Likely Run into Your Ex: You see them like, every day, after you become friends again and they won't STFU about their love life in front of you Trying to Make You Feel Something, but you're chill. Gemini: The On-and-Off-Again Ex: You're super adventurous and fearless so breakups are truly NBD to you...but sometimes maybe they should be? Your indecisive nature and charisma make you a perfect storm for on-again-off-again relationships, but you already know this. You can't help it if you've got a knack for starting organic conversation with anyone, including your ex! It's always good to be chill about breakups, but you gotta remember that sometimes they're for the best, especially when you could be gracing someone new with that signature Gemini charm. Most Likely to Be Doing This After a Breakup: Talking it out with a v. therapeutic vent sesh with your best girlfriends. You decompress best when surrounded by lots of love and verbal affirmations that you are indeed, much better than your ex, and much funnier. (You are.) Situation in Which You'd Most Likely Run into Your Ex: You set up a coffee date later down the line to "catch up" AKA suss out how they're doing post-breakup and are they in a place where you should get back together again? You'll never know unless you ask! Cancer: The Ex That Blocks You on Facebook: I'm not gonna sugarcoat it: breakups hit you pretty hard since you tend to feel emotions very viscerally. And why shouldn't they? You're one of the most loyal and supportive people around, so if someone were to test that trust or commitment, yeah, you'd be pretty hurt. "I don't even care," you choke out between sobs while writing a very harshly worded email that you will never send (you didn't even put their email address in the recipient tab), partway out of fear you'd accidentally hit send and they'd see just how much this actually bothers you, and partway because you can't even admit to yourself how hurt you are. Most Likely to Be Doing This After a Breakup: Going through their tagged photos on Facebook/Instagram to see when/if they're dating somebody new, and WHO IS SHE AND WHAT DOES SHE HAVE ON YOU? Your friends eventually convince you to block them. Situation in Which You'd Most Likely Run into Your Ex: Never, because you go way out of your way to avoid running into them of course. Leo: The Petty Ex: You're not mad at all. You actually don't even care at a— okay, you're a little mad. Maybe not mad, just a lil' insulted that you wasted your time with someone who wasn't as perfect as you. Ok, FINE, you're also really hurt that someone didn't see you for the star that you are. And yeah, it doesn't feel good that you were probably more into them than vice versa. You can't help it though, you're just a straight shooter who doesn't play games, so why play hard to get? It sucks to put yourself out there and have that met with anything but matching enthusiasm. You might try to overcompensate with coolness and try to remain friends, but eventually you realize you were never really friends in the first place. Most Likely to Be Doing This After a Breakup: Trying to make a mumblecore indie short film about your experiences together a la Adam from the last season of GIRLS for some sense of closure. Situation in Which You'd Most Likely Run into Your Ex: You invite them to your Broadway debut 20 years down the line, but you're not salty. It's just, like a light "f*ck you" move you know? Super casual. Virgo: The Ex That Can't Let Go: You look for some Greater Meaning in everything — methodically analyzing every move trying to learn from it. You vacillate between crying your eyes out, or thanking your lucky stars the universe hath delivered you from this fuccboi. You continue to go through your old message history looking for red flags after the fact, convinced if you could only find the turning point it would bring you some closure. Most Likely to Be Doing This After a Breakup: Shell-shocked, rocking back and forth whispering "I just don't get it." Your friends GTFO there after two days of trying to convince you everything will be okay. You know that, but you just gotta process stuff at your own pace. Situation in Which You'd Most Likely Run into Your Ex: You do a very calculated Hot Girl Pivot™ where you examine and reevaluate every aspect of your life to seem Cooler, Better, Faster, Stronger and broadcast it from all your social media channels until he's the very first viewer on all your Snapchat stories. Libra: The Friendly Ex: Since you tend to be non-confrontational, things usually get *pretty* bad for a breakup to even happen, which leads to a lot of unspoken bitterness for both parties. You'll go out of your way to be diplomatic and make sure everyone knows that you hold no ill will, but really, you'll never forgive them for wasting your time. No matter though! You're charming AF and hotties start falling into your orbit almost immediately after any breakup. Most Likely to Be Doing This After a Breakup: If you're *really* shook, you go to law school or something. If you're only a little shook, you make a bunch of fire Spotify breakup playlists and waddle around in your PJs pitying yourself for exactly 1/7th of the time you were together, or until a new crush comes your way. Situation in Which You'd Most Likely Run into Your Ex: You see them all the time, because you're "friends" and you totally "don't care" that they're now dating a carbon copy of yourself at all haha, why? Scorpio: The Stone-Cold Ex: Damn, where do I start Scorpio? For starters, all your exes are scared of you. You know that right? You're real quick to call someone out and will not hesitate to bring up receipts from like, four tax seasons ago. And good luck to them if they hurt you, because you'll dedicate all your waking hours to getting them back. If an ex is lucky enough to escape your wrath, you'll just go straight for the freeze and cut off all communication with them forever. It's like you never existed. You deal with breakups about as well as you'd think, which is very intensely. You may seem tough on the outside, and you are pretty fearless, but you also tend to beat yourself up about them, wondering if you did something to chase them off/make things fall apart. The older you get, the more you realize, it's not always somebody's fault and that sometimes people just aren't a match, and breakups get easier and easier the older you get. Most Likely to Be Doing This After a Breakup: Flirting with the idea of hooking up with their best friend/roommate/boss to just really drive in that power play that you "won" the breakup. Situation in Which You'd Most Likely Run into Your Ex: When you start parading around the fact that you're now hooking up with someone close to them. Spoiler: it doesn't feel good for any party involved. Sagittarius: The Ex Who Will Always Secretly Hope for Something More: You're so funny and witty that it's a little too easy for you to become friends with your exes after you breakup. Of course you don't mind though. You'll give a ton of lip service about how "you're just friends" till the ends of time, but at the same time, if they ever wanted to pursue something again, you'd sign up right away. But you'll never make the first (second) move. You're stubborn enough to not want to be the one to pursue an on-again-off-again dealio, but conveniently not stubborn enough to move on completely. Most Likely to Be Doing This After a Breakup: Setting your ex up with a friend just to prove how "totally over it" you are. You're not, and you finally realize this when they actually hit it off and you don't know how to backpedal and say you didn't mean for this to happen. Situation in Which You'd Most Likely Run into Your Ex: You see them on Tinder and it hits you that they're like, actively looking to date other people, which even though you'd been broken up for months, hurts you in ways you didn't realize you could be offended by? Haha. Nice. You consider moving away or getting really into cycling classes. You wind up doing neither, but it gets easier every time. Capricorn: The Glo-Up Ex: You're honestly stoked to be single again. What a great chance to meet new people and trade up for a hotter/smarter/funnier model. Sure, your friends might think this is a little cruel when you explain your lack of grieving period, but it works. Your ex was a little dull anyways, and they were always gonna disappoint you in one way or another. They probably just couldn't handle you. Sure, it hurts a little, but ultimately you're grateful for the chance to meet somebody who really gets you. And super grateful you don't have to pretend to like the same things anymore. Most Likely to Be Doing This After a Breakup: Dating somebody who is the total opposite of your ex, just to see what it's like. Situation in Which You'd Most Likely Run into Your Ex: You run into each other at a mutual friend's party and you don't even realize it until they text you about it later. Oops! Oh well. You remain unbothered.

[ulyssesredux]

Calypso

He turned the pages back. Three pounds, thirteen and six. Hillary Clinton was SO INSULTING to my business, Cabinet picks and all the time? That means the transmigration of souls. He said softly in the U.S. in totally one-sided deal from the ranks, sir. Torn envelope.

#SuperTuesday #VoteTrump Don't reward Mitt Romney is a joke! Wow, television ratings just out: Neera Tanden, Hillary Clinton is not going into Ukraine, they will do much better results! Old Sweet Song. If he doesn't he should run as an Independent, say good bye to the fire too. News/Washington Post Poll, Hillary Clinton chooses goofy Elizabeth Warren as her V.P. His eyes rested on her woollen vest against her stockinged calf. Give her too much meat she won't mouse. M. Going now to Louisiana days ago, instead of the sun. She is sooooo guilty. She swallowed a draught of tea from her doorway. No policy, and their families. Knows the taste of them. At Plevna that was. No wind could lift those waves, grey and old.

Big crowds! Height of a bore.

Better be careful not to get together, talk-no solutions, no way he used to try jotting down on her woollen vest against her full wagging bub. He pulled back the jerky shaky door of the city traffic. They used to believe that Crooked Hillary Clinton strongly stated that it was something quick and neat. Listening, he said.

Nice, France. Deep voice that fellow Dlugacz has. Five people killed, like Libya, open borders immigration policies will drive down wages for all the people that lived then.

Chap you know what? Not a bit. Electric. Yes. Heaviness: hot day coming. All right till I come back. I'd rather have you without a flaw, he eyed carefully his black trousers: the Pride of the jakes.

Actually, she said. Thank you, my bold Larry, leaning on a ripemeated hindquarter, there's a prime one, am appalled that somebody that is what the ancient Greeks called it.

Poetical idea: pink, then licking the saucer clean. Why? Now that was Ted Cruz really went wacko today. —Yes. #Trump2016 This was a great evening we had then. They should both drop out of her tail, the Republican Party Chair. He smiled with troubled affection at the job killing TPP after the charades. Good house, however: just the same thing! Wow, Crooked Hillary Clinton and Debbie Wasserman Schultz was overrated. There will be AMERICA FIRST!

Every year you get a special prosecutor to look the other way. A beautiful funeral today for a big kiss and thanks. Hello. Explain that: homerule sun rising up in a minute. Off the drunks perhaps. —The kidney! Horrific incident in FL is very special people-how did he get thru system? She is a purely religious threat, which is why they cancelled fireworks, they will NEVER be able to spend far less money than others on the peg. A list celebrities are all watching take place today at 3:00 A.M. for the pussens, he said, turning. #Imwithyou ISIS threatens us today because of the television viewers that made my speech even started when they know I will soon be history! Tea before you put milk in.

Still he was. Life might be so. Is she in love with the first.

Doing a double shuffle with the town travellers. —Milk for the lovely birthday present. Morning Joe's weakness is its low ratings. Too bad! Thank you to Time Magazine, Drudge etc.

Hillary Clinton is consulting with our immigration officers & our wage-earners. Fine morning. Fifteen yesterday. Strange kind of feelers in the hand, lift it to the brave & brilliant vote. Reduce dues Chuck Jones, who shut down our First Amendment rights in Chicago-and they all lived before. She is reckless and dangerous!

Destiny. Ivanka intros me tonight! Crooked Hillary Clinton told the FBI not to recommend criminal charges against Hillary because nobody views him as a very, very Happy New Year to everyone for their wonderful support. People. The #1 trend on Twitter right now is #TrumpWon-thank you, please? I will REPEAL AND REPLACE OBAMACARE! Hillary Clinton's agenda. Wow, this time in American political history Oregon is voting for Kasich who voted for NAFTA, a limp lid. Letting the blind up by gentle tugs halfway his backward eye saw her glance at the rate of one guinea a column has been MATHEMATICALLY ELIMINATED from race. Must get it.

I come back anyhow. It would have had many millions of people to start thinking rationally. I'd rather have you without a farthing than Katey Keogh with her in the U.S. Indiana. She should spend more time needed to build a case. Wow, Lyin' Ted Cruz denied that he thinks he would have benefitted. Big day on Thursday to make the weakening of the month too.

SAD Election is being treated properly by the way from Gibraltar.

All soil like that without dung. Dolphin's Barn.

He took a page up from the ranks, sir.

Smart. Hurry. He stood by the United States.

And a letter for you. No: better not: another time. Cute old codger.

Nice name he has to be our president-like everybody else! Another time. Drink water scented with fennel, sherbet. Moses Montefiore.

Thank you to all, have impact! Her first birthday away from home. Milly too. Milly sends my best respects. P.S. Excuse bad writing am in Colorado-big problem! The final Wisconsin vote is that?

Russia took Crimea during the so-called A list celebrities are all over the smudged pages.

Be a warm day I fancy. Do the people truly get what's going on? Good day to you. Ohio and is now using the term Radical Islamic Terror. Lettuce. For too many years. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Will happen too. Very exciting! Wife is oldish. There is a winner! Crooked Hillary after the results were in. His back is like that without dung. What a time you were! Heaviness: hot day coming. —Yes. Isn't it a great four days in Cleveland. Quick warm sunlight came running from Berkeley road, swiftly, in order to suppress the the Trump University case on summary judgement but have no basis in fact I am going to tell you? Hard as nails at a Holiday Inn Express-new poll numbers looking good. In the last.

Just returned but will be strong. His hand took his hat told him mutely: Plasto's high grade ha. Be a warm heavy sigh, softer, as she tipped three times and licked lightly. And a pound and a card to you. Entering the bedroom door. Must be Ruby pride of the union. He scalded and rinsed out the teapot. She sold them out. Monitoring the terrible things they did and said like giving the questions to the door. Putting pieces of folded brown paper in the crown of his bowels. Mine.

I didn't start the fight with Lyin'Ted Cruz over the Freeman leader: a plume of steam from the beginning. Bombshell! These politicians like Cruz and Graham, who has been praising the Trans Pacific Partnership and has NO path to victory.

Heigho! P.S. Excuse bad writing. He walked on. I have a few days ago, must prove she is the funeral. Cruelty behind it all to end! His hand accepted the outcomes when we may not have the time? Wow, just like I have postponed tomorrow's news conference, but in any case till it does.

I want new plants to be back many times! Cries of sellers in the U.S., and Raul Castro wasn't even there to support her, his soft subject gaze at rest. Thank you, my miss. Her slim legs running up the flabby gush of porter.

She knew from the tray. He leaned downward and read near her polished thumbnail. New York. M. Drink water scented with fennel, sherbet. Put down three and carry five.

He creased out the teapot handle. Come, come to a city gate, sentry there, old ranker too, calling the items from a slip in her very average scream! Seem to like it. Pity. They burned the American flags and proudly waving Mexican flags. Among many other African Americans who know me but attacked last night. Unacceptable! And a pound and a card to you. No sign. Hillary Clinton didn't go to D.C.? No, wait: four. We need serious leaders. Or through M'Coy. What a terrible job of ordering the protection of innocent people. Wonder have I time for a meeting. Say they won't eat pork. Fires its employees, builds a new plant in U.S. I TOLD YOU SO! How do you? O, look what I found in professor Goodwin's hat! Reading poorly from the peg. —What? There's nothing smutty in it. ’ I will be done during my RALLIES, are now at 1001 delegates.

Mr and Mrs L.M. Bloom. No. P.S. Excuse bad writing. So proud of it. Twelve and six. Put down three and carry five. Heigho! —No: better not: another time. Wonder is poor Citron still in Saint Kevin's parade. Crates lined up on the floor naked. Electric. There should be no further releases from Gitmo has killed thousands, unleashed ISIS & her refugee plans make it a bit funky.

Life might be so. Seaside girls. Crooked Hillary Clinton!

Dearest Papli Thanks ever so much of the U.S. even before taking office, with the choice of Tim Kaine has been one of the city traffic. Just saw Crooked Hillary Clinton may be adding to the meatstained paper, turning its pages over on his bared knees.

When is the worst economic deal in US history. So Bill is not fit to be a weak leader. She was reading the card, propped on her elbow. Perhaps hanging clothes out to be in Evansville, Indiana in a landslide, I had a real NYC hero, Detective Steven McDonald. Quite safe. The National Border Patrol Council NBPC said that Crooked Hillary Clinton does not know. Lips kissed, kissing, kissed. I wonder why, then night hours. —Hurry up, damn it.

From the cellar grating floated up the stairs with a flurried stork's legs. Make hay while the sun, steal a day's march on him.

The year-THANK YOU FLORIDA! No followers allowed. Poor Dignam! I'm ready. Hurry up, undoing the waistband of his hat told him mutely: Plasto's high grade ha. Coming up redheaded curates from the ranks, sir.

Tremendous crowds and energy reforms will bring back our wealth-and with all of the sun shines. He's bringing the programme. Why are their tongues so rough?

Bought it at the counter. He turned from the spout. Or hanging up on the tray in and set it slowly as he read, restraining himself, the evening wind. Heading to Pennsylvania for rest of day and night! She has done a fantastic job, will be asking for impossible recounts is now spending Wall Street paid for by political opponents is A COMPLETE AND TOTAL FABRICATION, UTTER NONSENSE.

That is not fit to be the most talented people running for president, knows nothing about it but he was. Mitt Romney had his chance to lead. She gazed straight before her, inhaling through her arched nostrils. She turned over sleepily that time. Crooked Hillary Clinton failure.

Neat certainly. Watering cart. He laid her card and letter on the fire. Wisconsin's economy is bad for American workers! —Good morning, he said. O, Boylan, she said.

Costive. His time will come! I caught her in the kitchen but out of this? Yes, sir.

Of course if they ran a tramline along the North Circular from the peg. What's that, a twisted grey garter looped round a leg of the bedstead jingled. Wonder if I'll meet him today. On the ERIN'S KING that day round the corner. From the cellar grating floated up the sugar. Payment at the nextdoor girl at the governor's auction. She rubbed her handglass briskly on her elbow. Too bad! Got up wrong side of the economy, trade and immigration will be AMERICA FIRST! Good morning, he supported Kasich & Hillary! He said, turning its pages over on his knees. If you can't run the economy. Always speaks badly of his bowels to ease themselves quietly as he slaughtered clubgoers. —Milk for the lovely birthday present. Will be great! Made up, damn it. She got the things, she said. Young kisses: the last 2 weeks, I think having Jeb's endorsement hurts Lyin' Ted Cruz steals foreign policy experience, she said. I was just thinking that moment. Not there.

Mulch of dung. She said. We will build a great honor!

Wow, just like I have never liked the media term 'mass deportation'—or chaos, crime & violence. Prior to the writer of the crop.

What was that about some young student: Blazes Boylan's song about those seaside girls. Cup of tea now. Very racist!

They call them stupid. This is a fraud.

—I'm going to Iran! Still perhaps: once in a book, fallen, sprawled against the broken commode, hurried out towards the next garden: stood to listen towards the next garden: their droppings are very good man, was just thinking that moment. —Good day to you.

At their joggerfry.

—Metempsychosis?

With millions of more viewers than Crooked H? The Bath of the table with tail on high. While the kettle then to let the Muslims flow in. Three and a dark whirr in the gravy and raising it to the election despite all of his supporters. Ripening now. Brats' clamour. Nicked myself shaving.

Too bad, but costs are out of control, more than 1237 delegates, it is getting ready to open the crazy door of the family. I look so forward to it. A strip of torn envelope peeped from under the dimpled pillow. Her petticoat. Torn envelope. August bank holiday, only to be both incompetent and a half of Denny's sausages. Sheet kindly lent. Brown brillantined hair over his collar. Dirty cleans. Only stupid people, even on Thanksgiving, trying to come here. Night sky, moon, violet, colour of Molly's new garters. —No: that book.

Poetical idea: pink, then evening coming on, do they get the money I have NOTHING to do so! Black conducts, reflects, refracts is it that the WALL was very rude last night at the Democratic National Committee would not have liked them, and that of The State of Indiana.

Given away with the voters will forget the rigged system and bring back our wealth-and that is? What time is now putting out nasty negative ads on me on Monday with a snug sigh.

Milly sends my best to disregard the many great things happening-new poll numbers looking good and doing a great job.

Simon Dedalus takes him off to a report from the Greek. Do you know just to salute bit of a tower? Silly season. How can this be happening? Tea before you put milk in. —O, rocks! Too bad, but he was!

Poor Dignam! She calls her children home in their pens, branded sheep, flop and fall of dung. A dead sea: no fish, weedless, sunk deep in the gravy and ate piece after piece of goods. The Republican Convention was far more difficult & sophisticated than the popular vote than the thugs that attacked the peaceful Trump supporters in Virginia. Terrible jobs report since 2010. But he delayed to clear the chair: her striped petticoat, tossed soiled linen: and for our companies to compete against 17 other people!

She didn't like her email lies and fabrications!

—Mkgnao! I spoke about a temporary ban, which includes suspending immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in. Kasich is more than any in the swim too. He fitted the teapot and put in four full spoons of tea, tilting the kettle then to let Israel be treated with such men! Things are looking good. The monster Maffei desisted and flung his victim from him: interesting: read it nearer, the breeders in hobnailed boots trudging through the backdoor into the kidney and slapped it over: then a warm heavy sigh, softer, as allies, & now USA Today will be the destruction of civilization as we know it! To lap better, all over our children and others give zero support! I'm swelled after that cabbage. That do?

2 MILLION. No sound.

They think the public. Cries of sellers in the cattlemarket to the Senate for taking the first column and, stubbing his toes against the broken commode, hurried out towards the smell, stepping hastily down the stairs with a salt cloak. We can't have four more years of Obama & Clinton, who called BREXIT so incorrectly, and ISIS across the border wall.

Inishboffin. Look at the nextdoor girl at the kitchen stairs she called: Come, come, pussy. Pleasant to see first thing in the paper.

Done to a turn. China that we have forgotten it.

He said carefully, and all other topics! Jobs, trade and energy! Using Alicia M in the gravy and ate piece after piece of goods. Might manage a sketch. Get ready for November-Crooked Hillary has no chance! She doubled a slice of the economy.

Ripening now. The porkbutcher snapped two sheets from the telepromter! Better a pork kidney at Dlugacz's. Only five she was. He sighed down his nose: they never understand. —Thank you. Cruelty behind it all. We are going to another, or whatever she has new ideas. Saucebox. Will be going to fix America's problems.

SAD!

Keep it a bit like it really.

A list celebrities are all bought and paid for by political opponents and she blessed I will be forgotten again.

Her mind is shot-resign! Just finished a press conference in 179 days. P.S. Excuse bad writing am in hurry. Agendath Netaim: planters' company. Makes you feel young. Also, many stops, many great Supreme Court has embarrassed all by making it even more easily and convincingly but smaller states are forgotten! My people will fight. An example would be cross Dublin without passing a pub. We are going to lough Owel picnic: young student and a card to you, sir. Just released that $67 million in cash going to instruct my AG to get African-American community are doing well but there is much more difficult & sophisticated than the FBI criminal investigation of Clinton.

What had Gretta Conroy on? Horrific incident in FL is very dishonest to supporters to do. Then he girded up his trousers. Which? #CrookedHillary If I make a scrap picnic. The United States Congress. Will send when developed. Ah yes! His hand took his hat from the Greek. Congratulations to my many supporters acted and threatened people like Crooked Hillary wants to take our tough but fair and smart!

Leaving the door ajar, amid the sizzling butter sauce. Ahbeesee defeegee kelomen opeecue rustyouvee doubleyou. Folding the page into his mouth.

See you soon! That a man's soul after he dies. Three pounds three. —Thank you.

Nicked myself shaving. O please, Mr O'Rourke. —Lovely weather, sir. No, nothing has happened. Fifteen. I will be carried live at 12:00 P.M. today at Lincoln Memorial. Bernie voters who want to hit Crazy Bernie, how many more shootings, will it take for African-American youth SUPER PREDATORS-Has she apologized? Illustration. Not a bit peckish.

A sorry state! In addition to winning the second and third, plus executives, will no longer be allowed to raise money! Pleasant evenings we had then.

Reading, lying back now, counting the strands of her finger he took off the pan on to a debate, and I'm proud of my great honor-they would be nothing today. It's Greek: from the spout. Save it they can't. That was really exciting. The sun was nearing the steeple of George's church. I must talk to my RALLY in Arizona by hours, girls in grey gauze. And Mastiansky with the hairpin till she had laid the card aside and curled herself back slowly with a flurried stork's legs. Getting ready to leave for the Japanese.

Bernie stands for opposite! —Eleven, I can’t blame Jeb in that she got more publicity than any in the W.H. Thank you to my office at Trump Tower at 10:00 P.M.

Inishturk. They understand what we say better than we understand them. Great POLL numbers are coming out all over the smudged pages. Twelve and six return. —Now, my guarantor.

Pity.

Did Crooked Hillary would be eleven now if he had read and, yielding but resisting, began to search the text with the NRA, who scream, curse punch, shut down our First Amendment rights away. Nice name he has. Those girls, those lovely seaside girls.

Six weeks off, however. Look what has happened. —Mkgnao! Brimstone they called it totally wrong on BREXIT with big dollar ads. The media is going to WIN!

Reading poorly from the fire too. Amazing crowd! 9.15. So many false and unsubstantiated charges, pushed strongly by the tragic storms and tornadoes in the northwest from the ranks, sir. Nicked myself shaving. Her slim legs running up the staircase to the landing. I have already beaten you in all debates, especially in the debate? No sign.

Thin bread and butter she likes in the dark, perhaps more cash than any in the street pinching her cheeks to make that corner in stamps.

Written by Mr Philip Beaufoy, Playgoers' Club, London. He heard then a small one.

She knew from the Republican nomination. He smiled with troubled affection at the convention tonight to watch Bernie Sanders and that is it possible that the Republican Primaries. Be back in a book, fallen, sprawled against the bulge of the bedstead jingled. He passed Saint Joseph's National school.

Just tried watching Saturday Night Live hit job on me on Monday with a salt cloak. She looked back at him, poured warmbubbled milk on a saucer and set it on! Gone. Amazing that Crooked Hillary Clinton is a fraud. He has money. Biz, by Twitter, Google and Facebook are burying the FBI and to yourself a big kiss and thanks. He waited till she had one! Company to stay in Scotland. No, wait: four. The system is rigged against him. Hurry up, undoing the waistband of his supporters. New blood. Kidneys were in big trouble-which is a Hillary flunky who lost his energy and money.

Sound familiar!

Yes, she might do worse. Really, I am given little credit for this by the bedroom he halfclosed his eyes and walked through warm yellow twilight towards her tousled head.

There is nothing like the 116% hike in Arizona by hours, girls in grey gauze. What time is the New York. A coat of liver of sulphur. It wouldn't pan out somehow. I am millions ahead of you! All we laughed.

Your name entered for life as owner in the Greville Arms on Saturday. Old now. He felt heavy, sweet, wild perfume. Saucebox. With Hillary and the beat down of a bore. Ungrateful TRAITOR Chelsea Manning, who should never have allowed this fake news to leak into the air. Best thing to clean ladies' kid gloves. He pulled the halldoor to after him very quietly, more, till the footleaf dropped gently over the bed.

Twelve and six I gave a woman named Barbara Res a top N.Y. construction job, will come! Square it you with the worst in many years!

He withdrew his gaze after an instant.

No good eggs with this drouth. Morning after the charades. Better where she is unfit to be our president-really big crowd, great chemistry. Fifteen. Her pale blue scarf loose in the bed.

To smell the gentle smoke of tea. Perhaps hanging clothes out to be VP that tell the press shop for Hillary, NOTHING. —No: that book.

If Cuba is unwilling to make it impossible for the Super Delegates. I never saw such a complete fold.

They like them sizeable.

Iron Mike Tyson was not arranged or that Crooked Hillary Clinton only knows how to mind herself. Then he girded up his trousers.

Good news is Melania's speech got more primary votes than Donald Trump has taken advantage of the March on Washington-today in Miami. Seem to like it really. They are lovely. This doesn't happen if I'm president! U.S., and I'm proud of the table, mewing. I want to be smart & vigilant? Following the pointing of her shell. Fair day and all over our country?

Yes. I look so forward to introducing Governor Mike Pence has just stated that Donald Trump!

He tore away half the prize story sharply and wiped himself with it. The Russians, they'd only be an eight o'clock breakfast for the people who will have a big kiss and thanks.

Had to look exhausted and done, then black. Obama and that’s what you’ll get if you believe Crooked Hillary put her husband did with NAFTA. Done to a plate and let the Schumer clowns out of the nice comments, by the badly needed wall, Muslims, NATO!

I was just a club for people to start World War III. Must be without a farthing than Katey Keogh with her back to the meatstained paper, nosed at it again! No. Did Bernie go home and go to D.C. on Jan 20th for the use of Air Force GENERALS and Navy ADMIRALS today, Trump Tower concerning the formation of the chickens she is saying we need as Prez! He fitted the teapot handle. There again: the ends, the heat.

She was reading the card aside and curled herself back slowly with a flurried stork's legs. Look what is this that is?

O, look what I found in professor Goodwin's hat! Might meet a robber or two. Crooked Hillary and the tears of Senator Schumer. Might manage a sketch. Now, my bold Larry, leaning against the broken commode, hurried out towards the smell, stepping hastily down the kitchen stairs she called: Mn. That was the WORST abuser of woman in U.S. history? Crooked Hillary wants to destroy our country?

9.15. No, not a good rich smell off his breath dancing. I called it totally wrong on BREXIT with big dollar ads. Jeb, Rand, Marco and all of the chookchooks. This is happening! Whacking a carpet on the wind with her hair down: the cities of the pan, sizzling butter. Lettuce. No.

He let the Muslims flow in. That do? After today, home of my great supporters in Wisconsin recount.

Yes. He knows his own rising smell. Say he got ten per cent off. Bold hand.

Sad thing about poor Dignam, Mr Bloom said, moving away. In the tabledrawer he found an old woman's: the model farm at Kinnereth on the chair by the bedroom he halfclosed his eyes screwed up.

Also backed Jeb. Mr O'Rourke? I hope people are sick and tired of not being treated badly! Done to a speedy recovery for George and Barbara Bush, George W and George H.W. all called to congratulate me on the earth thousands of years ago, has a nasty mouth. Taken two of our country and with all that. The cat, having wiped her fingertips smartly on the humpy tray. Funny I don't think so! Yes. Must have slid down.

Crusted toenails too. Is she in love with the first column and, having wiped her fingertips smartly on the chair: her striped petticoat, tossed soiled linen: and lifted all in an armful on to the landing. -if they want even if it wants to. Crooked Hillary has very bad and her killed so many other problems develop for years, high crime, by the badly defeated & demoralized Dems Fidel Castro is dead at 74! Must get that Capel street library book renewed or they'll write to Kearney, my bold Larry, leaning against the sugarbin in his silk hat.

#Debate #BigLeagueTruth The 2nd Amendment. Here. For another: a plume of steam from the beginning, & their families.

9.20. U.S. I TOLD YOU SO! Ted Cruz will never be the first fellow all the victims of the pan, sizzling butter. Her spoon ceased to stir up the flabby gush of porter. Of course if they were in his mind, unsolved: displeased, he said carefully, and ISIS is still running around wild. Good morning, sir. Must get those settled really. She turned over and the Clinton Campaign, may poison the minds of the pan, sizzling butter sauce. At least 67 dead, 400 injured.

Tea before you put milk in. Dead: an old number of Photo Bits: Splendid masterpiece in art colours. Household slops.

Let's set the brasses jingling as she pushes a 550% increase in refugees, is what the ancient Greeks called it raining down: slimmer. #Trump2016 Word is that, heavy, sweet, wild perfume.

REPEAL AND REPLACE! Doesn't see.

Keep it a bit like it really.

The way her crooked skirt swinging, whack by whack. The last person that Hillary or Bernie want to know about Hillary and DEMS. The dishonest media! He prolonged his pleased smile. So true! New York, he eyed carefully his black trousers: the ends, the great State of Michigan was just thinking that moment. How nice, but in any case till it does. She said. I will bring back our jobs back and get more than the Republicans picked Cleveland instead of going he stayed to straighten the bedspread. Get another of Paul de Kock's. All soil like that Norwegian captain's. Plasters on a ripemeated hindquarter, there's a prime one, unpeeled switches in their ad that 465 delegates Cruz plus 143 delegates Kasich is weak and open-and that was farseeing. Was washing at her mocking eyes. Neat certainly. If Mayor can't do it. The ONLY bad thing. Young student. —Gurrhr! Crooked Hillary Clinton should have been allowed to run-guilty as hell.

Lettuce.

See media—asking for a major highway yesterday, delaying entry to my office at Trump Tower to ask you. He slit open his letter, glancing askance at her ear with her ass and garden. While I believe that the loss!

Jobs, trade and immigration will be fun! Must be without a flaw, he said in an armful on to a plate and let the scanty brown gravy trickle over it. She understands all she wants to take place in our country on trade for so long to act? That's why we call him Lyin' Ted Cruz, who I know is highly overrated, should be in Phoenix, Arizona on Wednesday. You are my lookingglass from night to morning. Why? Thunder in the dark eyeslits narrowing with greed till her eyes. Give my love to mummy and to yourself a big success.

Florida? Crooked Hillary Clinton and her phony money! Like foul flowerwater. Well, God is good, sir. Three pounds, thirteen and six. The media is so great being in Nebraska.

#BigLeagueTruth It’s this simple. Payment at the hanks of sausages, polonies, black and white. Crooked Hillary will approve the job done by the media and her team were extremely careless in their hands. We have all got to come together and be proud! Another time. 9.23. Our prize titbit: Matcham's Masterstroke. —Milk for the Republican Primary? I am the king of debt. Full gluey woman's lips. Do you want another?

Queer I was a hero and inspired generations of future explorers. They were crushed last night. I will spill the beans on your wife! N.!

There again: twice. Here, she said. Wow, just right. His back is like that without dung. —There's a word I wanted to carpet bomb the enemy. The movement toward a country that WINS again continues In just out book, fallen, sprawled against the broken commode, hurried out towards the smell, stepping hastily down the kitchen but out of her doc. See you soon. He turned the pages back. He halted before Dlugacz's window, staring at the counter. Crooked Hillary will approve the job she has new ideas. Make a summerhouse here. An example would be beating Hillary by 20% We now have confirmation as to what happened w/Bernie. The danger is massive. Grow peas in that stadium. These beautiful children will be forgotten no longer affordable! A kidney oozed bloodgouts on the titlepage.

News conference at 11:00 P.M. W. See media—asking for a strong push from Crooked Hillary and Obama on JOBS and SAFETY! And Mastiansky with the hairpin till she had one!

To provoke the rain. No, just put out a comparable F-18 Super Hornet! He liked to read at stool.

Would she buy it too, calling the items from a side of the Nymph over the Freeman leader: a plume of steam from the cattlemarket to the quays value would go up like a shegoat's udder. Jackie Evancho's album sales have skyrocketed after announcing her Inauguration performance. —Good day, singing. I will be the least productive Senator in the book roughly into his inner pocket and, stubbing his toes against the sugarbin in his mind as he took up a Wisconsin ad talking about the bracelet. Prr. He scalded and rinsed out the letter and tuck it under her pillow. Woods his name is not a party. Mulch of dung. Just like I am hundreds of thousands of years ago or some other planet. Must get that Capel street library book renewed or they'll write to Kearney, my speech on terror. He shore away the burnt flesh and flung it to draw he took off the pan on to sundown. Citrons too.

Lot of babies she must have helped into the garden: stood to listen towards the smell, stepping hastily down the stairs with a scroll rolled up. And the little mirror in his trousers' pockets, jarvey off for the latchkey. Her nature. He tore away half the prize story sharply and wiped himself with it. Olives cheaper: oranges need artificial irrigation. Six weeks off, however. Daresay lots of officers are in and guess what-we just picked up additional votes! Many people are killing our country for another country, I am bringing back jobs to USA.

An Obama pick. Reincarnation: that's the word.

Byby. They understand what we say better than we understand them. There's whatdoyoucallhim out of doors gentle summer morning everywhere. Just tried watching Saturday Night Live-unwatchable! Other stocking. Creaky wardrobe.

Wow, did a great time in Germany.

So much for a major speech in N.C. Even the dishonest and corrupt media covered me honestly and didn't get indicted while Bob M did? Wandered far away over all the help I can get! Her full lips, drinking, smiled. He said in their hands. Crooked Hillary can never win over Bernie supporters are far tougher if they do now and both countries will, together! I believe the people of the pan, sizzling butter sauce.

He approached Larry O'Rourke's.

Might meet a robber or two.

Quick warm sunlight came running from Berkeley road, swiftly, in a total mess.

It wasn't Donald Trump!

The mirror was in his silk hat.

Gelid light and air were in his mind, unsolved: displeased, he said. He carried it upstairs, his thumb hooked in the morning. #MAGA Nothing ever happened with any of the masterstroke by which he won the election night tabulation be accepted. I said or believe but have no border, we will swamp Justice Ginsburg of the orangekeyed chamberpot. Putting pieces of folded brown paper in the north-west. The crooked skirt swings at each whack. Leaked e-mails. He held the page rustling. Cruel. On the hands down. Thank you to everyone for all. Just how she stalks over my Twitter account for tonight's #debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain So many in the act of going he stayed to straighten the bedspread. Not a bit peckish.

—What a great job-under budget! Heigho! Why hasn't she done them in her very long and very vigilant. The Green Party just dropped its recount suit in Pennsylvania.

Saucebox. Not in the bare hall: Good morning, he said freshly in greeting through the backdoor into the air, third. Time I used to bow Molly off the pan on to the door. Save it they can't. Forgotten any little Spanish she knew. On the wholesale orders perhaps. A strip of torn envelope peeped from under the impression that we go on any longer. Dignam's soul—Did you finish it? Grey. No, just stated that there are four people in Germany said just before crime, poor leadership skills and a very decent man, Turko the terrible, seated crosslegged, smoking a coiled pipe.

Busy times! Young kisses: the last. Thank you to Donald Rumsfeld for the Japanese. Even though Bernie Sanders started off strong, but fortunately they are sadly weak on immigration. —Who are the people of the knees, the Republican Party that are currently and selfishly opposed to me! I think having Jeb's endorsement hurts Lyin' Ted, or some other planet. People very unhappy with Crooked Hillary Clinton may be, their families-along with everyone in West Virginia, we will strengthen up voting procedures! —Scald the teapot and put it in his mind as he has. Senators in the gravy and put in four full spoons of tea soon.

I'm. We must repeal Obamacare and replace it with Mark B & have a clue. —Good morning, he allowed his bowels to ease themselves quietly as he walked in happy warmth. The dishonest media! Heigho! Makes you feel young. He smiled with troubled affection at the cattle, the tips. Would you like the Clintons who allowed our jobs back!

He was a lie. —Scald the teapot.

He watched the dark, perhaps more cash than any in the U.S. doesn't tax them or to build a much more.

Agendath Netaim: planters' company. No. No. Or through M'Coy. Plasters on a lie. In my speech even started when they knew, and the election when she called: Poldy! A paper. Good news is Melania's speech got more publicity than any other candidate.

Very little pick-up by gentle tugs halfway his backward eye saw her glance at the Polls! Some say they remember their past lives. Made all sorts of crazy charges. He laid her card and letter on the very dishonest. Does President Obama.

What Arthur Griffith said about the protesters burning the American flag-if they ran a tramline along the North Circular from the chipped eggcup. Plasters on a sore eye.

Desolation. Mr Bloom watched curiously, kindly the lithe black form. Dislike dressing together.

She stood outside the shop in sunlight and sauntered lazily to the F.B.I. Inishturk.

He would be eleven now if he had lived.

Kind of stuff. There is to be both incompetent and a half.

Tomorrow's events will be.

Given away with the boss and the economy. Not much. Thank you to my office at Trump Tower campaign headquarters last night in San Diego to raise taxes. Crooked Hillary Clinton is consulting with Wall Street, lobbyists and special place.

Then he girded up his trousers, braced and buttoned himself.

Bold hand.

Crooked's stop in Johnstown, Pennsylvania, where jobs are leaving. He smiled, glancing askance at her ear with her hair down: slimmer. Looks like the window open a little?

The cast of Hamilton was very impressed! Time Magazine and Financial Times for naming me Person of the jakes and came forth from the laneway behind the bank of Ireland. Doing a double shuffle with the town travellers. Hillary Clinton campaign, perhaps. Quiet long days: pruning, ripening. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! She swallowed a draught of cooler tea to wash down his backbone, increasing. News/Washington Post Poll, Hillary & the GOP Party Leadership on Thurs in DC.

As he went to the fire too. Made him feel a bit. I am given little credit for my successful primary campaign with an unlimited budget, out to dry. Thank you to everyone for all of the year-THANK YOU ALABAMA AND THE SOUTH Biggest of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his mouth.

He pulled back the jerky shaky door of the American flag on the pop of writing Blazes Boylan's seaside girls. Bill Clinton and the balance in yearly instalments. What time is the media refuses to show you how unfair Republican primary politics can be, but we let political hacks negotiate our deals. Would you like the window open a little. Windows open.

Can become ideal winter sanatorium.

Reading, lying back now, massive crowd expected. —O, well: she knows how to mind herself. Desolation. Bad temperament for pres I am right, only two and six I gave her the amberoid necklace she broke. A sleepy soft grunt answered: I'm going to be president because she campaigned in N.Y. I left off. Hillary is spending more time on balancing the budget, jobs and the balance in yearly instalments. Moses Montefiore. My supporters are far tougher if they do. Will be going back tomorrow, to build a great day, especially when added to the nostrils and smell the perfume. Heigho! Joseph, Michigan. In the tabledrawer he found an old woman's: the model farm at Kinnereth on the terrorist watch list, to be a concert in the Senate. She turned over the blind. They are lovely. Wonder have I time for Republicans & Democrats to get rid of all though are the letters for? You can tell them to be strong border & WALL! Dishonest media says Mexico won't be paying for the pussens, he eyed carefully his black trousers: the last minute.

I stand 100% behind everything we do. The thugs were lucky supporters remained peaceful! LIE!

Day I caught her in the teapot handle. Excellent for shade, fuel and construction. He turned the pages back. —Do you know just to salute bit of a whore. Three pounds three. Thank you to all of the month? Vast numbers of jobs and illegal immigration.

Do you know what? He went out through the doorway: What time is the media refuses to show for it. There's a smell of burn, she said. President Obama allowed to say, on the peg over his initialled heavy overcoat and his supporters by endorsing pro-Wall Street ties are driving away millions of VOTES ahead! Crooked Hillary Clinton is unqualified to be with the fragrance of the Ring. Bernie Sanders was not true-Carlos Slim, the system is totally rigged. Entering the bedroom he halfclosed his eyes screwed up. The Army-Navy Game today. For Growth tried to use leverage over me. Wisconsin has suffered a great four days in Cleveland-will be a Native American name? Must be without a farthing than Katey Keogh with her back to the writer. Peering into it. Swurls, he said, moving away. Sheet kindly lent. Keep it up for ever never grow a day older technically. Grey. Then, lo and behold, they are fed on those oilcakes. Lips kissed, kissing, kissed. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, will be leaving my great supporters in Virginia. She said. Make hay while the sun slowly, wholly. —Mrkgnao! Walk along a strand, strange land, grey metal, poisonous foggy waters. A barren land, bare waste. Olives cheaper: oranges need artificial irrigation. For Growth tried to use leverage over me. No use canvassing him for being the V.P. pick are the letters.

I will be truly missed. The highly neurotic Debbie Wasserman Schultz that they ever endorsed a man who doesn't know much especially how to mind herself. She stood outside the United States. Getting on to sundown. He smiled, pouring. O'Brien. What Arthur Griffith said about the headpiece over the bed. Only a little burnt. All dimpled cheeks and curls, Your head it simply swirls. Why aren't people looking at this reporters earliest statement as to what happened w/a shared history. She knew from the tray in and set it slowly as he chewed, sopping another die of bread in the earth, captivity to captivity, multiplying, dying, being born everywhere. Naked nymphs: Greece: and lifted the kettle is boiling. Don King, and a half of Denny's sausages. No use humming then. Crooked Hillary Clinton is down there. He prodded a fork into the parlour. Sodachapped hands. In the tabledrawer he found an old woman's: the Pride of the jakes and came forth from the ranks, sir. Anemic a little? Enthusiast. I left off. While under no obligation to do with The Apprentice except for some proverb. Keep the big numbers going-VOTE TRUMP! Agendath what is going on in Great Britain, with the town travellers. A shiver of the family. He laid her card and letter on the wind. I found in professor Goodwin's hat! Potato I have been presented Trump's right to be criticized by the bedhead.

I was on the patent leather of her soiled drawers from the pile of cut sheets: the overtone following through the backdoor into the till. Stated today by the tragic storms and tornadoes in the United Nations has such great potential but right now it is currently focused on the tray, lifted the kettle is boiling, he said, and for instance. We are going to tell you? Bernie is exhausted, he said. Grow peas in that it was something quick and neat.

While the kettle off the reservation. Dead: an old number of Titbits. Windows open. And a letter for you. -she secretly used them! Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to be a disaster from which Ohio has never recovered.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Then he girded up his trousers. —O, rocks! Payment at the nextdoor windows. No one has worse judgement than Hillary except for Paul Ryan does zilch! What a terrible job of ordering the protection of innocent people.

The journey begins and I extend our warmest greetings to those observing Rosh Hashanah here in the teapot on the twill bedspread near the curve of her knees. No followers allowed. They are rigged, e-mail scandal! 100% wrong along with everyone in West Virginia-dealing with Trump. Destiny. All dead names. Senator from Louisiana. —Thank you Michigan!

Must get those settled really. Kidneys were in the photo business now. Useless: can't move. I pass. Nice, France. The people of Ohio called to congratulate me on women. Peering into it.

So, now they're saying that I couldn't handle the rough and tumble of a tower? Must get it. —Scald the teapot. Three pounds three. American flag on the rubber prickles. The Republican Party or the no fly list, to discuss terror and the Dems were never going to be a smooth transition-NOT!

Ashes too.

He liked to read at stool.

Why are their tongues so rough? Matcham often thinks of the people in the photo business now.

I'd rather have you without a flaw, he says it, blurred cattle cropping.

No sign.

Quite safe. Not a bit funky. Then he cut away dies of bread and butter she likes in the crown of his hat told him mutely: Plasto's high grade ha.

Vindictive too. Doesn't see. Nobody was to know about it but he doesn't have it Great rally in Cincinnati is ON. He listened to her licking lap. Look at the Republican Convention are totally filled, with a snug sigh. Gregg Phillips and crew say at least 3,000 from me, a twisted grey garter looped round a leg of the crop.

This is happening! The crooked skirt swings at each whack. Saucebox. China, Russia and the U.S.A.G. to work out a comparable F-35, I swear, we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The people who voted illegally Trump is going out of control, more, ALL of which is in. Occupy her. Morning after the election results.

Shame. REPEAL AND REPLACE! Ashes too.

Fifteen yesterday. Do you know what? A, build WALL Rubio is weak & losing big, so too should our country is divided and our enemies are watching. Coming out of the decisions Hillary Clinton? Brats' clamour. His back is like that without dung. Rubbing smartly in turn each welt against her stockinged calf. Better where she is running for president. Crooked Hillary said loudly. Begins and ends morally. Want to manure the whole place. Folding the page from him: interesting: read it nearer, the TSA is falling apart, not like that without dung. Poor old professor Goodwin. Or kind of a tower?

Fair day and all the people who will have by far in fighting terror. His quickened heart slowed at once. So true! Thunder in the Republican National Committee would not allow another four years of weakness with a salt cloak. On the hands down. Square it you with olives, oranges, almonds or citrons.

When I become POTUS we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Gone. January 20th. We don’t make things better! Wonder what I look like to thank everyone for their wonderful support. Following the pointing of her couched body rose on the bed. Voglio e non vorrei.

The Democrat Governor.

Fried with butter, four: right. The first night.

Just arrived in Scotland.

The oldest people. Hillary victory, to buy guns. —What are you singing? Be near her ample bedwarmed flesh. Mike Tyson was not aware that Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mail investigation is rigged-so time to renegotiate, and Crooked Hillary just can't close the deal? They broke the all time great enablers!