#decide to take a quick nap cause the gym is only 15 away

[i-am-church-the-cat]

my circadian rhythm needs to stop

[i-need-entertainment]

Haikyuu!! Boys getting accidentally hit ‘where it hurts’ by their kids

Characters: Akaashi, Washio, Konoha, Kita, Suna, Ushijima, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, Futakuchi, Daishou, Numai and Iizuna

Happy Easter if you celebrate it!! I thought a fluffy little hc’s of the Haikyuu!! Boys with their babies would be cute for today so here we are~

Warnings: Uh- just our favorite boys getting hit in the balls, I’m seeking more therapy I laughed way too hard while writing this uHm, mentions of grabbing the crotch cause what else you gonna do??, I do reference the Bad-dad moments and being flashed posts. 

**POST TIMESKIP CAUSE CHILDREN!! YOU AND THE HAIKYUU!! BOYS ARE MARRIED~ ALSO THE NUMBER OF KIDS THEY HAVE CAME FROM THE BAD-DAD MOMENTS!!**

@foodacoochie I thought you might want to see this~

Akaashi Keiji: 

Today was Akaashi’s day off, so naturally he wanted to spend it with his family!

You were all situated in the living room, your youngest who was a little over 1 sitting on your lap, and your oldest, who was about 3 was sitting across from Akaashi.

Akaashi was on his knees, throwing a tennis ball like thing back and forth with your 3 year old son, who was standing.

Everything was going great, just some wholesome family fun.

Until Akaashi said ‘give it all you got!’ his child smiled, wound up, and-

‘OOF-’ you watched as your husband immediately hunched over, falling to his side as his hands flew to his crotch.

Your eyes widened as you tried not to laugh, your son however started giggling when his father groaned, your baby following suit.

“K-keiji? *snicker* are- *ahem* are you okay?” You barely got through the sentence before you started laughing, Akaashi just slowly nodded, eventually returning to his knees.

He was much, much more conscious of his lower region from that point on.

Washio Tatsuki: 

It was Halloween time, and you and Washio had taken your 3 kids to a pumpkin patch!

You guys have 3 kids, the oldest two are 5 (fraternal twins, 1 boy 1 girl), and the youngest is 2.

The farm had made several ‘haunted houses’, one for little kids and one for teens+

Your twins had decided they wanted to go in the haunted house!

Well, your son did. Your daughter was not thrilled.

But! When her daddy offered to hold her hand the whole time, she decided she could brave it out, after all it is Washio we’re talking about.

You stayed by the entrance with your 2 year old, while Washio took the twins inside.

Everything was fine for awhile, your son was very excited, giggling at the jump scares and all in all having a good old time.

Your daughter...not so much. Poor thing was just about shaking, but she wanted to do this!!

They were about 2 scares away from the exit when someone dressed as a werewolf came from no where, your daughter screaming and turning into her father, her elbow at the perfect height to connect with his groin.

Sucking in a quick breath he ever so slightly tightened his hold on his children's hands, walking them through the last few jump scares and out to you.

You immediately grew concerned as the first thing your husband did was take a knee when he got outside, hands coming to grip at his face as he just slowly let out a breath, nodding when you asked if he was okay.

But even after getting elbowed in the balls, he never let go of his daughters hand😤

Konoha Akinori: 

You had just finished drying your son off from his bath when you heard giggling coming from the living room.

You sighed as you saw your husband, relentlessly tickling his oldest daughter, right after you had gotten her all settled down for bed.

Despite the irritation you felt knowing it would take at least 2 more stories for her to be sleepy again, you couldn’t help but smile knowing how much he loved being a dad.

“D-daddy *giggle* st-stop it!! It-it tickles!!!” Your husband smiled, continuing to gently tickle your daughter as she continued to laugh.

“No-can-do missy! Your laugh is just too cute!” 

Your daughter, despite her laughing, started to squirm, small arms pressing down on her fathers forearms, and little legs and feet pressing on his shins and thighs.

Until one particularly ticklish brush of his fingers caused her foot to slip, ending with her heel hitting him right in his crotch.

He shrieked as he let go of his daughter, hands flying down to his groin as he fell on his side, all the while his little girl laughed as she crawled up towards you, who was hunched over ugly laughing/crying as your husband continued to whine.

Kita Shinsuke: 

Today was the first day of your spring cleaning, and your 4 year old daughter insisted on being a big help!

You were working in the living room while Kita and your daughter worked in the kitchen.

Kita was teaching his daughter how to use everything, and helping her when she needed it, she was of course a wonderful listener and was having the time of her life.

They had just finished dusting, and now it was time to do the floors.

You guys had linoleum in the kitchen, so all they had to do was sweep and mop.

Kita got the broom from the storage closet and came back to the kitchen.

He sighed when he realized he had forgotten the mop, setting the broom up against the kitchen counter and telling your daughter he’d be right back.

Now, she may more responsible than most kids her age, but she was still 4. And very curious.

Picking up the broom, she started to play with it, completely oblivious to her father rounding the corner.

Before he could so much as blink his daughter turned, the top of the broom catching him right in the balls as he very narrowly avoided cussing, choosing to grip the counter instead.

Gasping your little girl ran to you, on the verge of tears as she grabbed your hand and started pulling you towards the kitchen.

“Mommy help! I think I killed daddy!”

When you got to the kitchen, you saw Kita, head down on the counter as his hands wrapped around his head, small groans coming from him.

He made sure to be out of his daughter reach when teaching her to sweep.

Suna Rintaro: 

Suna was in the living room, your 2 oldest in there with him as he was ‘rough housing’ and doing stuff dads do with their kids.

You were in the youngest 2′s room, putting them down for a nap.

Suna gently held his daughters legs as she planted her palms on the floor, him lifting her up when she was ready.

That’s right, Suna was teaching them to do handstands.

Giving her a high five he turned to his son, telling him what he needed to do, completely oblivious to his daughters concentrated look.

Keep in mind, Suna was standing, with his knees slightly bent and his hands on his knees.

Your daughter gave herself a firm nod, putting her hands above her head as she dipped down.

You had just finished putting the littlest ones down for their nap when you walked into the living room, watching almost in slow motion as your daughter leaned her upper half down, and watching her her leg came flying straight up.

Straight up in between her father’s legs.

You watched as his eyes widened, the air being knocked right out of him as he practically folded in half, forehead resting on the carpet as your son just looked at him and your daughters hands came up to her mouth.

You were of course dying in the doorway, him shooting you a glare as you gave your poor daughter a hug, her giving her daddy one as soon as he unfurled from the fetal position.

Ushijima Wakatoshi: 

Ushijima had taken his 3 oldest sons to the Schweiden gym.

He was putting in a little extra practice time, but wasn’t going to give up time with his children!

So, he figured it would be good to take them with him, they always loved going with him anyhow.

Right now, he was with your oldest son, Ren.

Your second born was whisked away by Romero and his son to play, and your youngest was whisked away by Hoshiumi and Sokolov.

Ushijima had been teaching his son to spike.

Nothing crazy, the kid is only 5, so they were spiking from the ground.

But there’s still a lot of power that goes into those spikes!!

Ushijima had taken his eyes off of his son for not even a minute, distracted by the giggles he heard from his youngest as he sat on Hoshiumi’s shoulders.

He really should have been paying attention, because right in front of him his son was winding up for a spike.

He didn’t notice until the *SMACK* on the gym floor echoed, the volleyball being shot right into his groin.

He cursed under his breath as he dropped to his knees, hands holding his crotch as Sokolov and Romero cringed, Hoshiumi and Ren laughing at his misfortune.

Yahaba Shigeru: 

Yahaba had taken his 2 sons outside to play with a model airplane they had just finished putting together!

It was one of those thick-foam nice ones, so it was going to fly nicely.

He stood a good 15 feet away from his oldest, his youngest about 15 feet away from him so they formed a triangle, You watching with your phone ready for memories!!

Your oldest, Hayato, waited for the wind to come before thrusting the plane up and into the air, it glided for a good few seconds before doing a loop and coming back to the ground at a sharp angle.

For a foam plane, it moved quite efficiently, and at this speed it was moving quite quickly.

Before anyone could react, the plane had nose dived right into your husband, his face blanching as his hands shot downwards.

You laughed, your sons cringed, and Yahaba just about cried.

“At least the plane’s okay! It would have actually been bad if it broke” Your youngest walked away after picking up the plane, Yahaba looking at him in disbelief. 

“Yeah, well don’t go asking me and your mom for anymore siblings, *cringe* I don’t think that’ll be happening.”

He cringed even more when you revealed you had gotten everything on video~

Iwaizumi Hajime: 

With it being the off-season for volleyball, Iwaizumi was spending more time at home with his family!

But, keeping in good shape was also important, so one of the things he would do is while he worked out in the home gym, your 3 sons would be in there with him.

You guys had a pretty good set up, one of the newer additions being a punching bag and gloves. (any other boxers out there?)

Iwaizumi was working with weights, currently doing bicep curls while his sons wreaked, albeit controlled, havoc.

His oldest had found the gloves, slipping on on his hand as the middlest took the other, the youngest slipping on a mit instead.

Poor man was so focused in his workout, he didn’t even notice his middlest son come waking towards him.

When he did notice, he was too late, his son had already wound up and launched his gloved hand into Iwaizumi’s crotch.

Iwaizumi grunted as he just about dropped the weights, falling onto his hands and knees as he tried to steady his breathing.

All 3 of your children bolted out of the room, the little brats laughing before they ran into you.

You walked in to see Iwaizumi, who was now on one knee, eyes still closed as he seemed to be meditating.

For those who are wondering, “padded boxing gloves” do  n o t h i n g  to subside the pain of being punched😢

Futakuchi Kenji: 

Futakuchi’s parents had been over for dinner one night, his younger sister and her fiancé were there too!

You guys had just had a nice dinner and were now sitting in the living room, bringing up old memories and laughing about things that have happened.

Your oh so loving husband had decided to bring up how you had “flashed” him in high school, you rolling your eyes as you hit his arm with a pillow you threw, him being on the couch and you cuddling with your youngest on the floor.

Now, you guys have 3 little girls. 

Your oldest is 6, middlest 4 and your youngest is about 3.

Your youngest was very much a mommy’s girl, and would actually glare at Futakuchi for no given reason, then turn around and giggle and smile at you. (lol my little sister went through a phase like this when she was, like, 2)

She had been sitting on your lap, so when she saw you ‘in danger’ and it was from ‘the enemy’ aka dad, she stood, chubby little cheeks forming a pout as she marched towards her dad.

With the whole family watching, she pulled her fist back and swung, catching him right in his balls as she scurried off and back into your arms, you not knowing how to respond to the situation and your husband doubled over in pain.

Daishou Suguru: 

You and Daishou had 2 kids, 1 girl (oldest) and 1 boy.

Daishou was a good dad!

He cared for his children, gave them endless amounts of love and affection, and was never late to any event big or small.

But he was still a dad, and dads all have those things that they do.

For him, it was popping out of random places and (lightly) scaring his daughter.

Currently, he was hiding behind the wall right at the top of the stairs, smirking as he knew his daughter was on her way up them.

He got his hands ready, feet in a good position to jump out as he watched her little shadow grow closer and closer to the top.

As soon as she hit the floor of the 2nd level he jumped out.

“BOO!” Screaming she kicked, landing a strong kick right in between Daishou’s legs, causing him to yelp as his hands gripped his crotch, sinking to his knees as his daughter gasped.

She felt bad for a whole of (2) seconds before sighing, hands coming up on her hips as she pouted, “Daddy, that’s what you get for scaring me!!”

Numai Kazuma: 

You guys had 3 sons and 1 girl, your baby girl being the youngest of the 4.

Right now, you guys were in your backyard, having an outdoor day and playing a variety of sports and games.

The game they were currently playing was baseball.

You sat in the shade with your youngest son and baby girl as they played in the sandbox, your oldest two with their dad as he set up the little stand and put the ball on it.

He had put on the catcher’s mit and stood a good 10 feet away from the batting station, his oldest son ready to hit, and his youngest son a safe distance away.

“Alright, come on buddy, you got this!”

Steadying his stance, your son swung with all of his might, the ball going fast and low to the ground, and right towards Numai-

“uGh-” Your hand came up to your mouth when your husband dropped to his knee, hand coming up to wave off his son, forcing out an “I’m okAy-” as he struggled to regain his composure.

For the remainder of the time they played baseball, he kept the mit a little lower than he originally planned.

Iizuna Tsukasa: 

Iizuna had been away for a game for the past 2 weeks, and your 3 year old daughter was very excited to see him again.

His arrival time was in the afternoon, so you were able to bring your daughter with you! Which Iizuna was thrilled about.

Your little girl was practically bouncing with excitement, little pigtails jumping as she looked up to you with a toothy grin.

You gently ran your fingers through her hair, as she clutched onto your leg, both of your eyes searching the gate for your husband.

As soon as you saw him, you crouched down to her ear, “There he is! There’s daddy!” Squealing she ran, and I mean she ran full force towards her father.

Iizuna, seeing his incoming 3 year old barreling towards him, dropping his bag, kneeling down so he could catch her.

Which he did, but he didn’t account for just how much force she had carried, so he didn’t expect the little foot that kicked him right where it hurts.

Careful not to impulsively squeeze the life out of his toddler, he shakily sighed as he gave her a kiss to her head, her nuzzling into his arms.

He may have been in an extreme amount of pain, but nothing was going to stop him from hugging his little girl.

[utopianvoices]

paladin (1) | s.changbin

↭ genre: mafia au; fluff, angst

↭ word count: 3.2k

↭ description: After being caught up in situations you didn’t want to be in, you vowed you’d never play hero again. But will your conviction hold throughout?

↭ a/n: whew it’s the first time i’m writing action and i’m not very good at it, but i hope it worked for y’all! x it’s just the first part and i’m not so sure how many parts i’ll be writing but do look out for it!! <3

↭ warnings: explicit language, violence (?)

Sitting at the back of the lecture theatre always had its perks; eagle-eye view of everything that was happening below, nap sessions whenever you needed it, and best of all, not being followed by two hundred pairs of eyes when you have to use the main door to leave mid-lecture because your bladder decides that it has reached its maximum capacity. 

You settle into your seat and make yourself comfortable as students stream into the area; your heightened status making others seem like little ants. A few minutes in and you get bored of staring at unfamiliar faces, resorting to doodling flowers and stickmen on the first page of your clean notebook. 

“Maybe I should have applied to be an art major,” you mutter to yourself, admiring your doodle when a voice speaks up from the left of you. 

“You’d have to submit a portfolio during application and no one in their right mind is going to let you into the course.”

Rolling your eyes, you shut your notebook with a ‘snap’, turning to face the person who had the guts to insult your masterpiece.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Seo ‘Shit Hands’ Changbin,” you scoff, taking a good look at the boy beside you, staring him down as he puts his bag onto the ground and takes his seat beside you. “You’re early to lecture today. That’s a first.”

"I can be responsible sometimes,” was the answer you received.

Seo Changbin—your friend from college whom you had the same classes with—never turned up more than necessary. He wasn’t what you would consider a close friend, who you shared insignificant feelings and problems to, but he was friend enough that you could complain about your lecturer’s horrible skills and terrible planning when it came to assignments. 

He was also friend enough for you to be worried about the bruises that covered his knuckles and cheekbone. The colour of the bruises was a clear purplish-blue, indicating that he had acquired them very recently; most probably a day or two before.

“Are you alright?” you ask, eyes filling with worry as you run them over his bruises. “Those look nasty.”

Immediately realising that you had set eyes on his bruises, he turned his face away and hid his hand in his lap, letting out a quick “it’s nothing” before turning the pages of his notes—in hopes of making it look like he was busy studying the material—and you were smart enough to drop the topic as quickly as you had brought it up because it was clear to you that he didn’t want to talk about it.

With perfect timing, you hear the boring voice of your professor flood the lecture hall, making you sigh out loud. 

“I swear, he has to be a siren or something. His voice puts you right to sleep but then he also tries to kill you because of it,” you say, hoping your lame joke was enough to extinguish the awkward silence that was hanging in the air between Changbin and you. And it worked.

It was only for a second, but you were sure you saw the corners of his lips lifting. 

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

It was a Thursday night; which also meant that it was grocery night.

The only reason you chose to go grocery shopping on Thursdays was so that you could spend your Friday and weekends snacking and binge-watching your favourite shows without any unneeded movements. Thursdays were also the best day for grocery shopping because of the many sales the store was offering, to get rid of old stocks before replacing them with new items so that they can increase prices over the weekend. After all, you were a broke college student who was just trying to save money whenever you could. 

"That would be 25.30." The cashier’s monotonous voice reaches your ears, putting robots to shame. Poor chap—he was probably doing a full day shift, dealing with snobby idiots and bratty children. 

Usually, you wouldn’t have bothered when someone else was in a bad mood, but thinking of your favourite show that was waiting for you paired with a miraculous lack of assignments, you throw the cashier a smile and wish him a good night, earning a surprised glance from him. It definitely wasn’t everyday cashiers were wished a good day; usually people just tapped their foot impatiently, waiting to whisk their bags and leave. 

Satisfied with the surprised look on his face, you collect your bags and walk out of the store, a bounce evident in your step as you swing your bags back and forth. With nothing else to entertain you for the 15-minute walk back to your apartment, you start to sing your favourite songs. Loudly. 

Halfway through your self-concert, you start to take notice of the smallest things happening around you: It is a breezy night out; branches on trees swaying side to side freely with the trust that it was safely attached to the sturdy trunk anchored deep down into the soil. The wind combs through your hair as the stars twinkle brightly in the night sky, seemingly winking at everyone cheekily as they walk under them. The moon, seemingly irritated by the stars, illuminates the area brightly, causing the stars to disappear momentarily, but providing the people who were out on the streets with more comfort and a higher sense of security. Simply put, it is a beautiful night.

But while you were busy admiring the smallest things around you, you fail to notice that your beautiful night was about to be destroyed.

“So should I give up but really can I give up we live in a -” You’re abruptly cut off as someone roughly shoves you out of the way, causing you to drop your grocery bags, your groceries spilling out of the bag. You cursed under your breath when you realised you were just a few metres away from your home. 

If only I had walked slightly faster... Maybe it’s time to hit the gym.

Just then, from the corner of your eyes, you manage to catch flashes of black running past you, each shouting incoherent words. 

With the annoyance of being pushed out of the way so close to your home and seeing your groceries spilt all out on the road, you open your mouth to shout at the group of men when you finally grasp what one of the men was saying, causing your blood to run cold. 

“I think he ran into that alley! Quickly, fuck, we’ve got to finish him today or we won’t get another chance to!”

Finish..... him?

You stand rooted to the ground as the words continuously echo in your ears. There was going to be a murder happening in the alleyway seven metres away from you and you were going to be the only one who knows about it. 

The rational part of your brain was screaming at you to just walk straight ahead and into the safety of your home which meant that you were less likely to be murdered; but the other reckless part of your brain was tapping into the humane part of you, telling you that you would be as bad as the murderers if you left the poor soul alone without even trying to help. 

Damn you, rational part of my brain.

With your mind clearly made up, you walk slowly towards the alleyway, gripping your grocery bags tightly so that the plastic does not create any rustling noises that would give away your unwanted presence. Sticking out your head as much as you could without being seen, you slowly take in the sight in front of you. 

There were four men—who very much resembled heavyweight champions— crowding around a shorter man, who fell short by a large margin in comparison to the other four. His blonde hair blending in effortlessly with his pale skin, almost making it seem like he was emitting a glow in contrast to the dark alleyway. With the way you saw the four men cornering the smaller man, you knew that he stood no chance that night. 

At the sound of the men’s voices, your ears perk up, trying to catch as much as you could. 

“...Boss is going to be really happy...”

“...there is no way you can escape now since you’re alone...”

“... SKZ is about to lose their leader...”

Panic fills you once again as you realise that you were running out of time to help the blonde man. Unable to hear his response (”it was probably just him begging for mercy,”  you thought), you bravely—or some would say, dumbly—call out to the group in the alleyway, finally revealing yourself at the entrance, hands gripping the plastic bags.

“Hey!”

At the sound of your voice, five heads turn towards you almost simultaneously. If this was any other situation, you were sure you would have laughed out loud. But now that you knew the gravity of the situation, all you could do was gulp and pretend you were strong so that some miracle could happen and you could live to the ripe old age of 80 with the love of your life and five children. 

“What the fuck do you want?” 

Starting to freak out at the tone of one of the men, you curse yourself out in your head for not thinking of a proper plan before jumping in to save that man. Frantically, your hands search your jeans and jacket when you feel a bottle in the jacket that you didn’t bother to clear out before wearing it out for grocery shopping.

Pepper spray. 

Feeling braver almost instantaneously, you clear your throat and call out to the men loudly, making sure they couldn’t hear the distinct quiver in your voice. 

“Let the man go,” you say as loudly as you could, fists curling into balls to make sure no part of you gave away the fact that you were shaking on the spot. “Now.”

Unsurprisingly, you’re met with loud guffawing, the four men clearly thinking you were a joke. A pawn that could be destroyed with just one move.

And they weren’t wrong.

“Let the man go or what? What are you gonna do, little bitch? Go cry to mummy?” one thug asked, triggering another round of laughter from the other three. “Well now that you’re you’ve seen us, we’ll just have to take care of you after we’re done with this scum over here.”

As he says that, you see another thug pull out what looked a lot like a knife, the silver glimmering under the strong moonlight. All you had to do was turn on your heel and run out as fast as you could without looking back and you had a chance of surviving, but your feet were not cooperating. It was like all thought was wiped out from your brain—including the knowledge of how to coordinate your limbs to get you the fuck out of there. 

As the knife was passed to the thug holding the blonde man down, you instinctively rush forward, swinging your bags around in hopes of inflicting some kind of pain that will give the both of you some leeway to get out of that alley. 

The resounding sound of metal hitting a surface rings in your ear, followed by a loud “Ouch”, satisfying you as your planned seemed to be working. 

Dropping your groceries and grabbing the blonde man’s hand, your other free hand grabs the pepper spray out of your pocket, and you blindly spray it around in unnecessary amounts, running out of the alley with the man when you’re sure you’ve blinded at least one of the thugs. 

Dragging the man behind you, you run as fast you can towards your apartment, not sparing a second glance behind you in fear that the thugs would be there.

You fumble with your keys and practically jam the right one into the keyhole, throwing the door open and locking yourselves in. 

Hunching over in pain due to a nasty stitch you acquired from the sudden exercise, you finally get a good look at the blonde standing in front of you.

He wasn’t very tall—definitely average—albeit still taller than you. Some might have mistaken him for Snow White with how pale he was. He was wearing an all black outfit, causing his skin and hair to stand out a lot more than usual. 

With how much you were analysing him, you fail to notice the hard stare he was giving you.

“Are you stupid?” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth. No heartfelt “thank you for saving my life”. None of that. Just him questioning the functionality of your brain. 

“Excuse me?!”

Stitch forgotten, you straighten your back while staring at the ungrateful idiot in front of you, mouth agape. You risked your life to save this asshole, and this is the gratitude you receive?

“I said what I said. I could’ve easily taken care of them and you ruined everything,” he deadpans, walking up and down your carpeted floor, massaging his temple. “Are you always this dumb, or did you just forget to drink your smart juice today? I mean, which dumbass just rushes into a dark alleyway without any help whatsoever?” 

“Hey, you better watch it!” you finally retort loudly. “Of course I didn’t stop to think, you were in fucking danger! Be grateful I even stepped in to try and help when I could have just walked away and let you take those 4 thugs by yourself. You wouldn’t even have stood a chance.”

He looks at you with flashing eyes right as you finish your angry speech; and you don’t have to try too hard to imagine the steam shooting out of his ears.

Just as he opens his mouth to fire another sarcastic comment, a series of loud bangs resound throughout your apartment. Your head shoots up towards your door, as the realisation dawns on you

Someone was trying to break down your door.

You rush over to the window and peek through the curtain and to your horror, you see the four thugs you had encountered—together with another four new men. They were back and definitely angrier than before.

“We’re gonna die!” you whisper-shout, shaking the man’s hand frantically as you look up at him. “I should’ve just left you in the alleyway.”

He rolls his eyes as he looks at you, pushing your hand off of him as he surveys your apartment.

“You go over and hide under that table over there.” he says, as he points to your desk that was tucked away far into the corner. “Don’t come out until I tell you to do so.”

You obediently nod and rush over to your table, wincing as you hear the door struggling to keep itself together, pieces of wood dropping onto your carpeted floor.  

It’s gonna cost me a bomb to fix that...

Quickly crouching under your table as far as you could, you watch as blondie (that’s what you decided to call him until you find out his name) opens the door for the eight men, smirk ever-present on his face.

Why is that idiot smirking?! He’s about to get killed and he’s smirking?

“Now, why don’t we skip the part where you yack till my ear bleeds and get on with the fight?” blondie asks, an air of confidence and pride surrounding him.

Without any warning three men rush towards him at the same time, flicking out knives and other weapons that you had never before seen in your life. Unable to watch the gruesome scene that was awaiting to happen, you shut your eyes tight, relying on your sense of hearing to alert you. 

You hear the clattering of knives, shortly followed by the sound of skin on bone contact, and finally, you hear the thud of human bodies hitting your floor. 

Without opening your eyes, you hear the sound of feet walking towards you, causing you to push yourself against the wall, hoping the thugs don’t find you under the table. You weren’t the best at handling pain, and you definitely didn’t want to know what was going to happen if they catch you. 

Instead of rough hands pulling you out from your hiding place as you had expected, you are met with soft hands grabbing your wrist, slowly pulling you out of your hiding place. You finally open your eyes, and you’re shocked by the scene that met you.

All eight thugs were laying on the ground, some groaning in pain, while some were deadly still. You really didn’t want to know what had happened to those who weren’t moving. 

“I told you I could handle it.”

Your eyes snap up towards the man beside you, your perspective of him completely changing as you view him in a different light. 

He no longer looked like a man who needed saving in your eyes. Instead, you could sense an aura of danger surrounding him. You imagine him sitting at the top of the throne, crown high on his head, as he ordered people left and right. Suddenly, you’re not sure who the most dangerous man standing in the room was anymore. 

“W-who are you?” you finally manage to stutter out, unconsciously taking a few steps away from him, wanting to put more distance between the both of you.

“I’m the man that just saved your life, so some gratitude would be nice,” he taunts, hinting at your earlier conversation. “My name is Bang Chan, and I am also the leader of the most sought after gang, SKZ. But you can call me Chan.”

Taking in as much as you could from that few words he had just uttered, the last thing you remember is whispering an “oh my God”, before falling to the ground, your surroundings turning black. 

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

You wake up to the sound of whispering all around you, your eyes squinting because of the bright light situated right above you. You whine out loud— annoyed that your rest had been interrupted by the constant whispering— abruptly being met with silence.

Raising your head slowly, you look around the place, expecting to be met with your blue curtains drawn fully, and your cluttered vanity, but instead you’re met with deep red curtains and nine people staring down at you; seven very unfamiliar and curious faces, and two familiar and worried faces. 

As your brain registers the two familiar faces in front of you, you sit up quickly, dread filling you as memories of what happened before you passed out comes rushing in. 

Just then, you realise who that one familiar face belonged to.

“They kidnapped you too?!” you scream at your college friend, immediately rushing over to him and pulling him away from the rest of them. “Are you hurt?”

As you are busy running your eyes over him, Changbin shifts around uncomfortably, trying to think of ways to break the news to you. 

“U-uh Y/n... They didn’t kidnap me,” he starts, catching your attention. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, waiting for him to then explain what the fuck he was doing there if he wasn’t kidnapped like you were. “I’m part of the gang, Y/n. I’m part of SKZ.”

[themartinsguide]

Georgetown, Penang

9 - 12 January 2017

On our first morning in Penang we optimistically set our alarm for 7.30am in order to fit in a big day of sightseeing. However, despite being a very clean, chic, and happening place, The Frame Hotel is not particularly soundproof. With a room that overlooks the main street of central Georgetown, we may as well have been sleeping amongst the traffic (earplugs are one of the best innovations). So at 6.13am we were woken by the call to prayer resonating from the beautiful mosque positioned directly opposite our room. (The mosque is so close we have had to keep the shutters over our windows closed at all times due to James’ fondness of walking around nude. But that’s a different issue altogether, and an argument that Hannah has given up on. You win some you lose some). With time to kill we drank tea in bed and watched the sun rise and the temperature soar.

After receiving an annotated map and brief instructions from a very helpful receptionist, we headed for the Colonial Penang Museum (a Tripadvisor suggestion) which James cheerfully informed Hannah was 2km away. When we arrived at the doors of the Museum (a bit white colonial styled house) almost an hour later we were in agreement that the map was perhaps a “bit out of scale”. Although the walk through obviously one of the more affluent parts of time, where mansions lined streets was interesting, we arrived sweaty and irritable. So when we were told we had to take the guided tour to get access to the museum we acquiesced. Although as two employees on two separate occasions had told Hannah she was “beautiful” (and James was smart enough not to suggest that they said that to every female that turned up as a clever sales tactic) there was no way we weren’t going in. Our hopes were not high but in the spirit of not judging a book by its cover we paid the money and hoped for air conditioning.

Thankfully, our expectations were exceeded. While we didn’t consider it a “museum” in the strictest sense of the word, the house contained an impressive collection of antiques, artworks, and ornaments collected by the owner of the house over a number of years. While we could have done without the spiel about the porcelain doll collection, the Erard Piano Bukit by Francois Linke (circa 1905), of which there was only two ever built, was rather impressive. As were the two reverse paintings by William Morris & Co. But it was the huge tree hut that really did it for James. We agreed that the place would be a real hit with Jacqueline. She would love drinking G&T’s in that tree.

Following our hour (?!) long tour and our return hike (via the mall “just to check it out”) we were in desperate need of water, coffee and food. Victoria had recommended The China House for a good cup of coffee and she was right. The cakes and various baked goods also looked incredible (actually that seems to be a consistent theme all over Penang but we have, for the most part, been relatively restrained). After refuelling we went in search of Fort Cornwallis, just in case we hadn’t had enough history for one day. Unfortunately, for Hannah, this is when her need for a toilet struck quickly and viciously. We can only imagine how we looked as James, with chaffing in areas that caused him to walk in a limp (as our Fitbits told us we had covered 15km already), guided Hannah (cursing James and his ‘relaxed’ hygiene and iron stomach) through the busy, hot streets of Georgetown, making a beeline for our hostel. This wasn’t something Hannah was prepared to use a squat loo for. You get the picture.

Following a nap and a top up of air conditioner exposure, we decided to hit the local gym which Hannah discovered, much to her delight, did Les Mills Pump classes. Don’t roll your eyes. It’s actually quite fun trying out a new gym in a different country and this one had great views over the Penang hill.

In desperate need of a quick beer, and a hot curry to test Hannah’s stomach we headed out (after a shower). The curry was as one would expect - hot, quick, cheap and delicious; satisfied we wandered down Love Lane for a beer, or two. Love Lane is the centre of the backpacker ‘community’ (we jest) but is surprisingly pleasant and free from the Bintang singlet wearing mobs we expect to encounter in Thailand. While enjoying a quiet Carlsberg in Mickes Place, a rake-thin, deeply tanned chap with a Hawaiian shirt made a beeline for James (this is becoming a slightly worrying trend). Aussie Andy had arrived.

In the time it took him to order a beer Andy shared with us his concerns over the size of Malaysian adapters (and kindly offered us the one he was wearing as a necklace) and informed us that he had been waiting two days for his mate Raji to arrive in Penang. Two sips into a beer, and with the staff pleasantly ignoring his pesterings for a cigarette, Andy disappeared to buy a pack, but insisted that we hold his seat. Laughing with the waitress, who later confided in us that she was relieved when she realised we were Kiwis as we were likely to have a higher tolerance for Aussie Andy, we were quite confident that he was gone for the night.

We were wrong. 15 mins later Andy dashes past the entrance to the bar gesturing to two late model Mercedes where to park. Returning triumphantly Andy introduced us to Raji and Raji, one of whom was the owner of the local company that “ran security” for the majority of the bars in Penang and Butterworth. And had one eye. After a cursory round of chit chat One-Eyed Raji bought a round of drinks (which, as per “The Rules”, we accepted), but Andy was rather taken by a young woman and proceeded to decamp to her table. At this stage the chat really could/should have died off (as One-Eyed Raji didn’t speak English and Two-Eyed Raji preferred to stare and scowl), but James persevered, ignorant to Hannah’s slightly nervous fidgeting (luckily one of the staff had already surreptitiously checked to see that Hannah was OK). Preferring not to discuss how they knew Andy, and spying Raji Two Eyes’ interest with the football that was playing on the TV, the table launched into a spirited conversation about Premier League football. And so, a rather odd hour passed with our Malay acquaintances, interspersed with Andy pinching the band’s microphone and singing his original songs “Who’s got my twenty cents?” (Repeated in various melodies for 5-6 minutes) and “1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12” (it’s all in the name), occasional fist pumps and glass clinks with our new buddies, and conversations with two Austrian blokes who had been partying with Andy the night before and were a little surprised to see him alive. After Chelsea beat Peterborough (FA Cup 3rd Round) we graciously declined the Rajis’ offer to hit a club in Butterworth and headed home. Andy, go to bed.

A few too many beverages foiled our plan to wake early on the 10th and head out for a run. Not even the call to prayer could keep us awake and so after a lazy start we decided to hire a scooter (which James later insisted on calling his “Hog”) for the day. Hannah had not comprehended how terrifying this experience was going to be. Aware of James’ tendency to become easily distracted and having observed a serious and systemic lack of concern for road rules over the last few days, she was not impressed with the instructions to “just hold on”. She adopted the technique of just shutting her eyes and we made it to the National Park in one piece and decided to walk over to Turtle Beach (Hannah’s fondness for turtles meant that the alternative route to Monkey Beach didn’t stand a chance). The walk itself was quite steep and challenging, as the trail was irregularly maintained followed frequent washouts, but it was wonderful to get out of the city for a few hours. It was however slightly disappointing to get to Turtle Bay to discover no turtles (but definitely monkeys) and a no swimming sign, due to a savage undertow and venomous jellyfish. Returning back to the scooter (or James’ 'hog’) we set off with James under strict instructions to find food. This advice was taken loosely as he detoured for 30 minutes up a windy mountain road to “check out something”, which fortunately turned out to be a tropical fruit farm selling delicious smoothies and fresh fruit. A gentle cruise home followed, though Hannah would have preferred missing out on comments like “you might want to close your eyes, I think this is going to get a bit hectic”. Fortunately dinner and a cheeky gin was enjoyed without Andy re-appearing.

The 11th dawned bright and early with the call to prayer, and this time we did rise early for a 10km run along the waterfront before the heat got too intense. We had rather underestimated the fatigue from the previous two days walking though, and it turned into a rather quiet slog at a gentle pace. Still not learning our lesson we proceeded to hire bicycles and set off to bike/walk up Penang Hill. Hannah’s jean shorts were a very poor clothing choice though, and after pushing our bikes (which were not very well maintained, to say the least) straight up what seemed like the steepest street on earth for 20 minutes, while being stared at aggressively by monkeys, we called it a day and headed back to the hostel to relax, read, write and prepare to travel to Thailand tomorrow. Let the island-hopping commence!