#sh*t priscilla says

[leggomylino]

Vibe So Hot | Han Jisung

Genre: Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader

AU: neighbor au, prank war au

Word Count: ~11.7k

Warning(s): mild language (censored)

A/N: inspired by the song “Vibe So Hot,” Priscilla Ahn

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

-〤〤〤-

There were times when you weren’t really sure about Han Jisung. 

The day you moved from your parent’s house into your new home, life was a dream. A delight. A living fantasy. You and your closest friend of twenty-odd years had been visualizing it for ages- a home for just the two of you, where you could make and break all the rules you wanted, eat dinner out of the cookie jar, throw paint and crayon all over the walls, and dump all the grease, homework, and leftover brussel sprouts down the garbage disposal that you wanted. It would be your kingdom with the two of you at equal pedestal on the throne, and no one could say or do anything about it.

While your visuals and ideals did change over time, what with hormones and taxes and a general understanding of how the world worked, you and F/n never stopped dreaming of the day you each held one half of the kingdom between your fingers. One half of freedom. It was a blissful, beautiful Tuesday morning. Exactly five months ago. Birds chirping in the small tulip trees. The sweet spring breeze ruffling the surrounding azaleas. The simple but water-efficient sprinkler system the two of you had worked a summer job to afford that was...spraying…...coke… 

...Yes, it had been a beautiful Tuesday morning. And also the arrival of hell next door.

“HAN JISUNG!” you yelled, banging on your neighbor’s front door. “Han Jisung, I know you’re home!” You stamped your foot. “Open this door right now!”

It was now five months later. Five months since you’d moved into your dream home, something small and sweet and affordable that you and your friend worked hard for years to achieve. Just something small to start the two of you out, while you finished up school and figured out what the heck the two of you wanted to do with the rest of your lives. 

It had easily become five months of back-and-forth hell. “HAN JISUNG!!!”

Click. The door slowly creaked open. It was dark inside, far too dark for 2 pm, like something out of a horror movie.

Oh, but you weren’t falling for another one of his tricks. Not this time. “Han Jisung, I know you’re there…” You called...weakly. “C-Come out this instant. I know it was you who stuffed cereal into the birdfeeder and left glue on the door handles. I was almost late for work this morning and F/n is stuck on the back porch.”

There was no response. You agitatedly sighed, running a hand through your hair and taking a handful of strands with you thanks to the faint remainder of krazy glue that simply wouldn’t come off.

“Han,” you called, poking your head inside. “Han? Han Jisun-”

The moment you stepped inside, a loud whrr! resounded, your body hoisting upwards. You spun around in the flimsily thin netting, falling into a fetal position backwards.

Han and a few of his cronies came out cackling at your expense, watching you gently spin and sway in their ridiculous trap. “I caught Y/n!” one of them cheered. “That’s 1,000 points.”

Another scoffed. “You didn’t do anything,” he said, blowing long blonde locks out of his face. “The points go to me for setting up the...project.”

“Shouldn’t they go to Han?” Yet another asked. “It’s his house.”

You rolled your eyes, attempting to adjust. Han tromped over proudly and swung his arm around the boy. “Exactly!” he cheered, pinching his cheek. “I’m glad you see it my way.”

The kid squinted his fox-like features in disgust, shoving the ringleader away from him. Han merely laughed, smirking up at you next. He sent a flirtatious wink your way. You scoffed.

“S’up, gorgeous?”

“Drop dead.”

“Ouch,” he playfully winced, pretending to take literal damage. “Didn’t like the glue, or the cereal? I told Hyunjin no one wanted his bland raisin garbage. But,” He shrugged. “He insisted it was good for the birds. The raisins, anyway-”

“Screw you,” Goldilocks groaned. “Shove off, I never said I ate the stuff. I just said it was better than wasting Lucky Charms or something actually good.”

“...Yeah, so there’s that.” He spared a passing eye roll before putting back on his deceitfully charming smile. Disgusting. “What brought you to swing by? Just dropping in?”

The other boys laughed again, causing you to turn an annoying shade of pinkish-red, some cross between coral and rouge. “I don’t have to tell you anything!” you snapped in your anger.

Unfortunately, Han Jisung needed to know the facts. “Then...how am I supposed to help you? Oh, oh! Hold on a minute.” He simpered. “Are you maybe trying to tell me that you came by unannounced because...you wanted to get caught up in my web?”

Han’s crew all made catcalls and whistles along with nervous smiles and suggestive expressions. The nerve of him. You fought yourself into an upright position, clawing angrily at the seams. “I meant you already know what you did wrong! Get me out of this stupid thing and get over to my house so you can fix it.”

“Oooo,” A freckled-faced boy you recognized as Felix cooed. He’d often been a leading officer in many of Han’s classic pranks and schemes. “I think she wants you bro.”

The heat on your face was intensifying, whether from rage or embarrassment, you didn’t care. Your prison shook. “That’s not what I-”

“Well then,” Han (classically) interrupted. “Guess I better get over there and fix it.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a salacious manner, padding around the clamour of boys and taking the stairs three at a time like a gazelle. When he reached the top, he revealed a rope from around the corner, lowering you gently...at first.

After three careful tugs, he dropped the rope entirely. Your eyes went wide, screaming as you fell--

...Right into Han Jisung’s arms. The boy glided down the stair rail and caught you at the last possible second. “Plenty of time to spare,” he insisted, showing you his teeth.

You slapped them away, wrestling your way back to your feet. “...You’re such an asshole, Han Jisung,” You dusted yourself off, smoothing out your attire single handedly. “I--”

...You yanked your hand down. Away from his face. Hard. Harder.

It was stuck. Your hand was stuck to his cheek. Krazy glue.

“OW! Ow ow ow okay! That hurts! Sh*t!” He cursed. You rolled your eyes, kicking his leg. 

“That’s what you get for gluing my door! Now come on!”

To make things less awkward, you gripped his left ear, yanking him like a mother would a misbehaving child. The others crowded around and followed, laughing as—

The door slammed in their face. “OW!” You heard Hyunjin yelp. His watered-down image through the distorted window showed him covering his nose, the other two goons frantically asking if he was okay.

...Well, Felix did, anyway. Fox-face merely stared and shook his head a little. “Let’s go. You’re cleaning the glue off both doors and changing out the birdfeeder. If you screw it up, you’re buying me a new one.” A harsh gaze fell over your shoulder. “After you unstick F/n!”

Han grunted, his groans and whines a feeble echo of white noise along with the ridiculous passes he occasionally made on the way over.

-〤〤〤-

After spending an hour and a half watching Han unstick glue from around your house (after unsticking your hand from his face) and taking a trip down to the hardware store for a new birdfeeder that 100% came out of his pocket, you sighed, trudging yourself through the front door and collapsing onto the nearest sofa by a front-facing window. You leered, observing Han shuffle up his own walkway and exchange harsh words with his friends before they all piled inside.

That bastard. He was always coming after you, ever since you first moved into the neighborhood. After the first week of assaults (from moving day) you’d asked the other neighbors if any of them had any bad experiences from house 117, but they all gave a generally same response: “Who, Han Jisung? Oh, heavens no! He’s such a nice boy! A little quirky, sure, but such a nice boy! ...Are you sure it wasn’t a raccoon or a stray cat?”

Heh, yeah. Like a stray cat was capable of impersonating your friend to have the locks on your house changed. Didn’t they have to do security checks for that stuff?!

Speaking of locks, the sound of keys ricocheted from your left, and you turned your head to see F/n enter...very strangely. They looked spooked, their eyes wide as they turned their head this way and that, creeping into the house like an Egyptian wall painting.

“Is the cost clear?” they asked. “Is he gone? Nothing’s missing? Nothing’s amiss?”

“Relax, F/n,” you said, scratching your head. You desperately needed a shower, but that had been rather hard with the pipes spewing nothing but Mr. Pibb for the past three days. It’d apparently be a fourth until they cleared out. “The menace is gone, back to his evil layer. I made sure he cleaned up his mess and got him to replace your grandmother’s birdfeeder.”

F/n scowled, back to normal as they tromped into the room, throwing their bags down. “She made that birdfeeder from scratch, Y/n. With her own two arthritis riddled hands, that birdfeeder may as well have been an ancient relic. It was one of a kind.”

“I know, I know,” you insisted, peacefully trying to calm them down. “Just relax. I got it under control and taken care of.”

“You said that last time. Now look at the place.”

You looked around. “...It looks spotless. Han actually did a really nice job with that extra work he put in.”

“Well it wasn’t before! ...Wait, you let him into the house?!”

Whoops. “Only to do some extra chores. To make up for outside. And many other times he’s screwed us over.”

Your friend grabbed the sides of their hair, practically seething. They regarded you like you’d gone insane, and they were just on the brink. “Y/n have you lost your mind? Are you stupid? I thought you were smart! What was that 3.5 GPA for?!”

“Hey, GPA isn’t everything. It’s just a matter of getting on a teacher’s good side and paying attention. Also, I’m aware that...that may have not been the best move. But it’s fine!” you insisted, now following your friend into the kitchen. “I was watching him the whole time. He didn’t leave my line of sight once!”

F/n opened the fridge, glaring perplexedly. “...Not once?”

“......” 

You thought. Oh wait...well…

You smiled sheepishly. “...Actually...ahaha...he may have asked to go to the bathroom once…”

F/n’s jaw dropped. “And you let him?!”

Your hands found their way into the air. “What was I supposed to do, F/n? Follow him into the bathroom? That’s creepy and gross and uncalled for.”

Your friend grabbed a beer from the fridge, slamming the door shut after. “No, Y/n. You tell him to go next door and use his bathroom.”

“But what if it was an emergency?”

“I think he can hold it.”

“But what if he couldn’t?”

They paused just beside you, giving you a harsh glare. “After all he’s done? I’d say that’s a real shame and another mess he’d have to clean up.”

“F/n--!”

“NO, Y/N,” Your friend of twenty-odd years turned to you, making it halfway back to the front door. “You don’t get it! It has been five years--”

“Five months.”

“...It has felt like I have had my guard up for five years. I can’t relax in my own home. I can’t relax at work, I can’t relax at school-- I can’t relax anywhere!” They polished off the beer, crumbling the can and tossing it aimlessly into the kitchen. You ducked, the can soaring over your left ear and colliding with a kitchen cabinet. “URGH!”

They grabbed their bags, beginning to march out. You were faster, sliding on sock-clad feet across Han-polished floors to beat them to it, blocking the exit. “F/n, listen. Please. I agree it’s bad, but I think you’re overreacting just a little.”

“Overreacting?! …” S/he crossed his/her arms, glaring at you skeptically and in disbelief. “Okay, fine. Which bathroom did he use?”

“Huh?”

“Which bathroom?”

You swallowed, thinking again. “...Uh...the upstairs one.”

F/n deadpanned. Cold and hard. “Great. Thank you for that. All my school supplies are up there. My office and workspace is up there. That’s where I sleep, Y/n.” You blinked. 

“You sleep in your office?”

“URGH!”

They pushed you aside, storming into the wide, open world. Hysterically you followed, snagging your keys off the side table by the front door and making sure to lock up behind you. “F/n- ...F/n wait…! Ah, stupid locks…!”

“Don’t follow me, Y/n!”

“WAIT!”

“I SAID DON’T FOLLOW ME!”

From the corner of your eye, a silhouette of dark brown hair and overly-white teeth made its way toward your property line. “Hello F/n, Y/n.” The careful fall breeze blew the shade from his eyes, where evil and mischief still resided. “Having a little back and forth banter, are we? A disagreement, perhaps?”

Han-bleeping-Jisung. Your vision narrowed, a scowl aimed directly at him. When he was around, it’s all you could focus on. Your senses heightened, and not in a good way. He couldn’t be trusted.

You shouldn’t have let him into your house. Your sensors were picking up on something. He seemed too happy for someone that was just forced into doing chores in a house that wasn’t their own. And willing so…

A hot vibe was residing along the back of your neck, between your shoulder blades. A sinking, sensationally bad feeling. “What can we help you with, Han?”

“Oh,” he piped, brows raised. “We’re on a single name basis now. That’s rare.”

F/n cast him a dark look and continued down the sidewalk to their car. You sighed, trying to relax and having little success; F/n was right, it was hard to remain calm with a hellion next door. “What do you need?”

Han Jisung shoved his hands in his pockets. “Need is a strong word. I need a lot of things. Food, water, air--”

A groan escaped your lips. “Fine. Forgive me. What do you want?”

“Hmmm…” He smirked, listing his head. “I want a lot of things, princess. Depends what you’re referring to.”

You’re pretty sure you could hear the gag coming from F/n’s car as they started the engine, shifting into reverse. Han chuckled, letting you know he heard it too.

“Alright, fine.” He held his hands up in surrender. “You caught me. I came to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?”

“......” He pursed his lips. “...I may have gotten a bit carried away and...well, I couldn’t resist, really. But I was thinking and, maybe it was in bad taste. Since Hyunjin did break your grandmother’s bird-thing.”

A rustling came from the bushes. “That wasn’t me! That was you!”

Han cringed, turning over his right shoulder. “Shhh!”

You faltered, zoning in on Han’s shrubbery. “Who is that? Is that Hyunjin hiding in your flowers?”

Han rolled his eyes, tossing...some junk from his pockets. A coin or something. “I told you not to say a word!” 

Blonde hair revealed itself from the viburnum bushes on Han’s property. “Cattywampus.”

“I SAID TO SHHH!”

Hyunjin scoffed. “Oh, so when we’re playing Scrabble, it’s not a word. But now that we’re probing Y/n for information, all of a sudden, it’s a word!” 

The air left your lungs, quite dramatically, and you took a step back farther into the safety of your porch. “...What is he talking about? What information?”

Tensions spiked like never before. Han simply groaned. “Dammit...thanks a lot, Hyunjin.” He turned to you with a sour face. “Yeah, okay, whatever, just...I wanted to know when your birthday was.”

He shrugged, trying to pull off the most innocent, blow-it-off look possible. You weren’t buying it. “What were you saying before? What did you do to my house?”

“Oh yeah,” He clasped his hands behind his back, sending another classic trademarked wink your way. Hyunjin freed himself from the viburnum flowers, along with Fox-face, who’d gotten himself tangled up in the next-door rose bush; he tripped over an illy placed hoolahoop and ran into Hyunjin, the two of them taking turns removing literal thorns from their sides. “I left you a present inside.”

I left you a present inside.

I left you a present inside.

He left you a present inside your house. A surprise. A bad one. You had invited him into your living space, your relaxation hub where relaxation was scarce, and gave him just enough alone time to leave something behind.

Something terrible. Something rotten.

Han Jisung was no longer looking like Han Jisung to you; what you saw before you was his true form: a plotting, overzealous, sadistic little impish demon of a man, no...a demon pretending to be a man. Someone like Han Jisung couldn’t possibly be human. There was no love at all in his heart.

“F/N!” You yelled, chasing after them as they drove down the street. “F/N, WAIT! STOP THE CAR! PLEASE!!!”

You could feel Han Jisung’s eyes as he trailed you all the way down Maple Street, his friends watching as F/n hit the brakes a hundred feet shy of the stop sign and let you clamber in the back. 

“Step on it.”

S/he nodded, slamming the accelerator and getting the two of you safely out of Dodge. “I’m going to a friend’s house. I have to return a few things I borrowed before Han Hellion ruins them,” They looked over their shoulder. “Where are you headed?”

Your eyes glared proudly through the rearview mirror. F/n drew back, nervously looking between you and the road unassured.

But there was nothing for it. They could yell and pitch a fit at you later. Today, this very moment, everything was going to end.

“The craft store,” you said. “And you’re coming with me.”

“What?”

“We’re taking our house back.”

“......”

The car rolled to a stop at the cross section of Water and Runway Boulevard. If it was the friend you were thinking of, F/n would have to make a right here. Your local craft store was the opposite direction.

With a unanimous nod through the rearview, the two of you made a left down Water Street.

-〤〤〤-

Hobby Lobby had to be your favorite store, next to Fye’s Music Records where you occasionally went for your music collection and your favorite restaurant. ...Though a store wasn’t really a restaurant, and vice-versa.

You and F/n scoured the many aisles of arts and crafts, decor and gifts, candles and knick-knacks, searching high and low for everything on a messy-scribbled list the two of you put together in the parking lot. Revenge was going to be so sweet. Total bliss.

“Buckets?” A young employee repeated back to you. “Yes, let’s see, they should be near the back of the store, on the right-hand side. If you pass the glitter and pipecleaners, you’ve gone too far. I believe they’re on Aisle 13.”

“Thanks,” F/n said, grabbing your wrist and dragging you behind them. They almost seemed more excited about this whole revenge-war than you did. “Aisle 10...Aisle 11...Aisle--”

S/he stopped, pale-stricken. “What is it?” You tried peering around the corner. “What’s wrong? Are they sold out or somethi--”

Your heart nearly stopped. There, in the middle of the aisle, stood Lee Felix, perusing a wide selection of glitter glue. A bucket (not a basket) hung from slack fingers, carrying a barrage of other craft equipment as well as a plastic bag from the Home Depot next door.

Some kind of rage was flooding through your system. You could sense it in F/n as well. The two of you were in sync, fed up with the Hellion Clan’s crazy antics and batsh*t ideas that only brought you pain and suffering. Enough was enough.

You practically shoved your friend aside. “LEE FELIX!”

Felix jumped, startled, frantic, eyes zooming in on you like a deer in headlights.

Then, unlike a deer in headlights, he ran.

“AFTER HIM!” F/n cried, shoving the list in their pocket. S/he ran farther towards the front of the store to block the entrance, while you followed in hot pursuit of the freckled boy’s trail.

Your phone buzzed as you ran, and without taking your eyes off your target you shuffled it out of your purse, slamming the receive button a little too hard. “What?!”

“He’s going towards the back of the store! He’s heading for the emergency exit!”

You gave a quizzical look toward your friend’s voice coming out of your phone, then back at your target’s backside. “What? How do you know that? Where are you?!”

“Look up. Aisle 1. Holiday crafts.”

Carefully your eyes scanned the tops of the shelves near the entrance, and after doing a double take on a statue you found F/n squatting among some Santa Claus and Christmas angels, a pair of high-grade binoculars in their mits.

You had no idea when they’d gotten those. “Where did you get those from?! How the heck did you get up there?”

“That’s not important right now! Just SEIZE HIM! He’s getting away, run faster!”

With an aggravated grunt you hung up, shoving your phone away and pushing your legs to hit the tile twice as hard. Some twenty feet in front of you Felix squeaked, making a surprise turn down Aisle 2 and knocking over a stack of decorative boxes. You cursed, calling forth your skills from high school gym to hurdle yourself over the monstrosity and skid to a temporary halt before barreling down the half-storage half-Christmas decor aisle. 

“He’s getting away!” F/n yelled. “Move!!!”

“Why don’t you help me?!” You called back. Felix made a 90 degree turn, charging farther back into the store in the opposite way you were anticipating; unless…  

A store manager suddenly appeared at the end of the aisle, holding her hand out to stop you. “Excuse me, I don’t think so; there’s no horseplay allowed in the store.”

Though she tried to grab you, you dodged like a badass, perrying right, then left, then spiraling after a mop of retreating orange hair down Aisle 7. “Can’t! Sorry! I’ll pay for this later!”

“I’m sorry?!”

“Hold that thought!”

The sound of static and muffled voices crackled behind you as the manager called for backup, but you didn’t care. This would all be over once the little coral pipsqueak was in your grasp; you’d make sure to make him sing everything that was going on.

“LEE FELIIIIIX!”

Somewhere on the opposite side Felix squealed, either running into something or barricading another path to ensure his freedom. You slid to another halt, straining your ears to pick up on the sound.

Maybe you could sneak up on him. You were getting pretty tired, and running all over the store wasn’t a very good strategy for either side. Tiptoeing down Aisle 6, buttons and sewing equipment, you held your breath, carefully peering down both directions of the aisle.

Empty, minus a mom and her kid. You dropped down on all fours, crawling to the next aisle-- except--

“Ow!” you hissed, pricking yourself on something sharp. It was a discarded sewing needle.

It gave you an idea. After sucking on the injury a moment, you snagged the discarded object, pinning it to the side of your bag. 

You hopped to your feet and gathered the strongest thread and yarn you could. After diving into a pile of fabrics when a few security guards walked by, you got back to work setting up your ingenious idea. A little thread here. Some fabric there. A weight right here…

You quickly sewed (loosely) a few strips of fabric together, finally finishing your creation. “Sorry, this aisle is closed right now,” you said to a few customers, spreading slime over each end of the hall. It was showtime. “I’m ready,” you told F/n, uttering the words through your phone.

F/n had done well to keep their disguise as an oddly-put Santa, peering through their binoculars when no one was looking. “Okay. I sort of lost him after the cops started lurking by here. Let’s see…”

Another curse left your lips. “He didn’t leave, did he?”

“No, I didn’t hear the doors open or close. He’s gotta still be here somewhere…..aha!” Their cry made you jump. “Found him!”

“Where?!”

“Opposite side. Aisle 18. He’s hiding around the picture frames.”

“Dang it,” you groaned, “I need him over here!” You looked around hesitantly. “Can you get him over to this side? I’m on Aisle 7. Additional Sewing and Craft Supplies. Fabrics, yarn, etc.”

“I’m scared to leave my post, but…” F/n sighed. “...I guess if you have a plan, I can chase him that way.”

“Great, okay. Hurry.”

“Roger.”

You hung up, taking another deep breath. Waiting. Ducking when the cops circled back around.

Suddenly, you heard a familiar battle cry from the other side of the store, followed by a man’s scream. The security guards and management started racing that way, but by the time they’d get there the source would be long gone…

Because he was headed straight for your trap. You scaled to the top of the aisle, keeping low with a blanket of fabric over your head as you watched Lee Felix weave in and out of craft stands and passing customers, buzzing toward Aisle 7 like a bee to a honey hive.

“RwARGH!” F/n cried, their Santa disguise flying with a full-powered shove. Felix went plunging for the nearest aisle, your aisle, and the moment his sneakers hit Elmer’s Color Slime Kit, he slipped, spinning out of control right into the giant DIY net you created. Yes! Score!

“HIYAH!” You screamed, jumping off the aisle shelf and tackling him. Gave over. You’d won. 

Felix squirmed and fought with all the strength he had left in him, his abs, his arms, his quads, but alas, twice his body weight from you and your friend combined was more than enough to stop him. He gave out with a long sigh just as an employee rounded the corner, crying for assistance.

You were out of time. Tying his hands behind his back and bundling the rest of the fabric around him, your friend threw a couple twenties from their pocket at the young man before the two of you slipped out the emergency exit.

“You’re going to tell us everything!” You demanded, carrying his torso. Felix scowled, rolling his eyes. Despite his obvious anger, he was sweating bullets and looked rather afraid. 

“I’m not telling you anything. You made me drop my stuff.”

“You can go back for it later. F/n, open the door.”

F/n shook their head, placing your captive’s feet down and unlocking the back of their car. “Nuh-uh. He’s riding back here.”

“In the trunk?!” The boy cried.

“In the trunk.”

F/n was dead serious. You stifled a laugh, even if it was kind of mean. Felix whined and bowed his head as the two of you placed him inside, F/n smacking a bow on his head that’d stuck to them during the chase.

“Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

The two of you slammed the door shut.

-〤〤〤-

The moment light hit your captive’s eyes, he squinted, groaning from the bumpy ride (as F/n insisted on hitting every speed bump and pothole). Lifting the boy on the count of three, he made sure to cry out for help- “HAN!!! HYUNJIN!!! JEONGIN!!! I’M OVER HERE!!!”- but, as it was expected, F/n simply dropped the boy on the driveway and threatened to stomp over a...delicate area...before smirking at his wide-eyed response and stuffing the bow in his mouth.

“Um, F/n…” You muttered, hoisting your prize up the porch steps, “don’t you think maybe you’re being too-”

“Don’t,” they warned, casting you a glare. “I’m not being too anything. These jerks deserve way worse.” They shifted Felix’s weight in order to allow you room to open the door. “Besides, it’s not like we’re gonna torture him or anything. Just ask a few questions.”

Felix gave a sigh of relief.

“...We can figure out what to do with him after that.”

...He took a sharp breath, beginning to sweat.

Inside the house the two of you tossed Felix onto the couch, running around the lower level to gather equipment before shifting him to a dining room chair. You were adjusting his bindings when the phone rang, F/n scampering off to answer it after sharing a look.

They smirked at the familiar caller I.D. “Y/n and F/n residence,” S/he answered in an overly-pleasant tone. “How may I help you?” Quickly they pulled the phone away, placing it down on speaker. The two of you, and Felix, glared at the voice coming out from the other side.

“We know you have him,” Han’s voice echoed throughout the living room. He sounded serious, demanding almost, sending a shiver down your spine. That was new. “What do you want?”

“Oh, what do we want?” F/n asked. They scoffed, peering out the blinds on the opposite side of the fireplace, just next to the kitchen. Directly at Han’s estate. “That’s something you don’t hear everyday.”

Han huffed, sounding disgusted. Suddenly, Felix erupted, spitting out the bow you’d forgotten to secure. “HAN! HAN I’M OKAY!!! BUT I LOST THE STUFF AT--”

Frantically you pounced, stuffing a fistful of Kleenex in his mouth. A chorus of anxious whispers filled the other line from Jisung and his goons, before Han silenced them and got back to business.

“Felix, if you can hear me, it’s okay. I need you to take one for the team right now until I come up with something.”

Ironically and unneeded, Felix nodded, as if Han could see him. You and F/n rolled your eyes. 

Suddenly, a loud splat! sent them squealing backwards. 

Your jaw dropped, watching rotten egg dribble and creep down your immaculately-just-cleaned window. Felix chuckled, falling on a sour note after you elbowed him. When two more assaults hit, you ducked for unnecessary cover behind Felix, F/n plastering themselves against the fireplace. 

“What do we do?!” you whispered, cringing every time an egg bomb made contact with the glass. What if by some crazy law of nature those things actually broke the window and leaked into the house?! It could take days to get the smell out. Heck, given that it was right next to the fireplace, and you had yet to test the installation of the seams...it’d likely start leaking into the house within the coming hours.

The pelts were slowly getting louder, rising in a horrifically drawn-out crescendo. “GIVE HIM BACK! GIVE HIM BACK!” you heard the goons chanting.

Were they on the roof?! You couldn’t bear this much longer. Your house was being eggified. Sullied. Disgraced. Finally cracking under the pressure, you flew some hand signals F/n’s direction that didn’t really mean anything and army-crawled to a yet-to-be-ambushed window, examining the battle situation outside before rolling back to your feet and sprinting for a backroom.

“Where are you going?!” F/n whispered harshly. S/he and Han bantered back and forth a bit, his demands of Felix’s release rattling the warfront before you returned with exactly what you’d been looking for: a megaphone. Ah, camp counselor days.

F/n saw what you were doing and instantly, wildly, vehemently shook their head no. But you were taking matters into your own hands now. 

“Han Jisung,” you stated, loudly enough so your voice could travel over the massive egg-pelting outside. “Hold your fire and I’ll bring Felix outside.”

You waited a few seconds, and the firing stopped. Han’s voice practically purred over the speaker. Very disgusting. “You’re starting to see things my way. That’s good.”

“Oh yes. I’m most certainly starting to see things your way.” The phone lifted between your fingers. “We’ll meet on the roofs in five minutes. If I hear or see one more egg on my property, the meeting is off.”

“......” There was an uncomfortable silence on the other line. 

You tilted your head. “Han Jisung? No deal?”

Felix whined a few feet behind you. Han sighed, clearly hearing it. “...Fine. We’ll meet you there.” Click.

You tossed the phone to F/n, who scarcely caught it, juggling it a few times on nervous butterfingers. “Alright, look,” s/he said, pacing across the room and slamming it down on the receiver. “I don’t know what kind of cockameme scheme you have planned, but…”

You smiled. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

They sighed exasperatingly. “I’m sure you told yourself that when you let him into the house earlier, too.”

“......” You faltered, crossing your arms. “Touche. But this time, I really know what I’m doing.” With the utmost confidence and summoned strength you tilted Felix’s chair back, causing him to panic. “C’mon. Help me get this up through the attic.”

-〤〤〤-

Glitter glue. Hair dye. A bucket.

Truth be told, you actually did manage to go back and secure Felix’s belongings. It was around some point during the creation of the gigantic net at Hobby Lobby: F/n had seen them while running around, snagged it, and stashed the goods in the car without telling you. 

Now, you were going to use them against the enemy. If only you knew what the wrench from Home Depot was for… “Okay, listen up,” you stated, standing proudly on your roof. F/n stood at your side, Felix in between you two, still strapped to the dining room chair. Though the Kleenex were now gone, his pie hole remained shut...with Puffs. Not the good brand, F/n had said. “We have your friend, and as you can clearly see, he’s fine. We haven’t done anything to him.”

“Yet,” Hyunjin sneered, standing atop Han’s roof. He crossed his arms at Han’s right, Fox-face (Jeongin) on the left. “I fail to see how tying him up and stuffing his mouth shut equates to not doing anything.”

“Hyunjin, enough big words,” Han moaned. “We get it, you’re good at Scrabble, and you should have won. Lay off already.”

Hyunjin growled, making a face. From the opposing roof, you lowered your mic, extending your hand left. F/n glanced sideways, placing the box of hair dye in your hand. The situation on the other side swiftly grew stiff, everyone’s eyes watching you expectantly.

“Y-Y/n...what are you doing?”

It came out as more of a statement than a question. A fretful smirk played on the corner of your lips. “Oh my, what am I doing? …”

Yours fingers got right to work tearing open the packaging. Felix turned his head as far as his binding would let him, his eyes widening and brows sinking beneath his coral-colored bangs the moment he recognized the object...and the word permanent etched within a warning sign. “Mmm! Mm-mm mmm! MMM!”

“Wait, Y/n,” F/n said, reaching out. They suddenly looked hesitant, unsure. “We never questioned him first. Shouldn’t we…”

You paused, tossing the box and plastic wrap over your shoulder. With any luck, it’d blow into Han Jisung’s yard; if not, you could just pick it up later. “What, now you’re getting cold feet?” You huffed. “You’re the one that was getting carried away before. I thought you were sick of all this crap.”

“I am...I am. I’m just saying, maybe we should have pressed him for answers before running up here.”

“After they started egging our house?! What, was I supposed to wait for toilet paper to fly through the trees and spray paint to stain our front door?!”

“No, I’m just saying—”

“I’m done talking!” Your eyes narrowed, focusing on Han’s. He was staring right back at you, an intense look residing. “I want revenge. I want action. This ends today.”

You popped the cap off the bottle of murky green liquid, Hyunjin and Jeongin both seeming to lose their posture as the cap flipped through the air, bouncing to the ground below. They started to squirm, much to your delight; though perhaps a little overdramatic; but it was about time the other side felt the same pain and turmoil you had. It’d been far too long an unjust imbalance.

But Han held his hands at peace, calming his soldiers and taking a step forward; sending the imbalance back where it was, in his favor. He cupped his hands around that loud mouth of his. “Y/n!!! Listen to me, you don’t wanna do this! ...I-I don’t think, anyway!”

He seemed nervous. Flustered. You actually had Han Jisung, Hellion of 117 Maple Street, in a nervous fluster. 

The moment was sweet, rich, decadent and savory. In the air, a cool breeze blew by. 

“I’m sorry? What was that?” You lifted the bottle over Felix’s head. His whole body tensed, slightly leaning away like a magnet that didn’t attract. 

Han bit his lip, gaze flitting between your hand and the boy below. Behind him, Hyunjin and Jeongin watched with battered breath, biting their nails and covering the lower half of their faces. Han sighed, suddenly waving his hand behind him. “Jeongin, you shouldn’t see this. Cover your eyes. I don’t know if I can stop her.”

The boy frowned, shakily turning from Han’s voice back to you. “I-I can’t, Han...it’s too horrible, but I can’t look away.”

“Then get back inside. I’m sure Y/n will at least allow that much.”

Raising his brow at you in question, you carefully gave a single nod, watching the young fox-face go. Jeongin had never done anything to you, except for maybe participate in the egg-throwing debacle eight minutes ago. Otherwise, as far as you could tell, he was clean, just a bystander in Han’s antics.

As the roof door shut above Jeongin’s head, F/n gave you a worried look. “Y/n…” s/he said, turning to you sideways. “...Something’s not—”

“Shhh!” You spat. Your hand holding the bottle teetered towards a horizontal slant. “Not now. This makes things easier. One less groupie to worry about.”

“But Y/n—”

Felix could practically sense your movements, starting to squeal. “HAN! Please! I have an interview tomorrow and I don’t think they allow unnatural hair!!!”

F/n grunted, crossing their arms at being ignored. You listed your head to match the angle of the bottle. Revenge was so sweet. “Well, Han?”

It felt like an eternity went by. Everything was still, calm, the only noise to be heard the rustling of the trees. A distant clicking that was probably just the other neighbor’s cat. You felt like you were in a Shonen anime, where the characters face off for episodes at a time with nothing but empty heated stares and uselessly repeated banter (usually flashbacks).

“......” Han Jisung swallowed. “Okay, Y/n, stop.” He sighed. “...You win.”

A heaviness released from your chest. You...won? That was it? Was he really just surrendering right now? No surprise counterattack? No negotiations?

Instead, Han Jisung and his last remaining sidekick glared pitifully in your direction, like all hope had fleeted from their grasp. Meaning… 

You won. You actually won... 

The biggest smile took over the lower half of your face, so happy you could have cheered, overjoyedly so, kissing your friend’s cheek. You squealed in delight, tossing the bottle in the air and not really caring where it landed, so excited, so stoked, so—

“Ow!” a young man’s voice said.

Gasp. What was that?! That didn’t sound like Felix or...your friend...that was...wasn’t...

“Y/n!!!”

You whirled around, just in time to see Jeongin standing at the height of your roof, stuffing your friend down the ladder. He paused, similar to how Felix had in Hobby Lobby; that deer in the headlights look; and with terrified effort kicked F/n down the attic, hopping in and letting the door drop after him. 

Laughter could be heard bellowing along the wind, a hurricane billowing your direction. You whirled around, flabbergasted, horrified to see Han Jisung with that coy smirk on his face, that evil glint in his eye, the long-legged Hyunjin doing a memey sort of dance, as the two of them laughing it up at your expense. Even Felix, still bound to the chair, was…

...Well, actually, he looked rather annoyed and a little pissed. “HEY!” he griped, stamping his feet. “What happened to releasing me first?! I thought that was part of the plan!”

Plan…? …… 

“You mean…” You glared expressionless. “This was all setup...from the beginning? Even Hobby Lobby?”

“Duh,” Hyunjin piped, giving you an incredulous look. “We saw you and F/n heading that way, so I called Felix while Han coached Jeongin on the art of...sneaking onto other's property. We knew the two of you were probably at your breaking point, given how you were screaming all the way down the street…” He shrugged. “We figured you’d try to retaliate. It was too good to pass up.”

“......”

Anger wasn’t enough anymore. You were downright enraged, seething...and also, a bit heartbroken. A lot heartbroken. It was all planned. Your revenge was just another part of their game. They anticipated it, adjusted to it, even arranged it. It was all for not...and, what’s more…

Now they had F/n. The Fox-faced demon would be scampering out of your house and into the devil’s layer at any minute.

But he’d made a fatal mistake. You still had one of their own in your grasp.

With the utmost vexation and irritability you screamed, grabbing the bottle of hair dye from where it got caught between two shilling panels and tore the whole lid off, dumping the entire bottle into Felix’s hair. Han and Hyunjin froze in the middle of their victorious dance ritual to watch in horror as Felix screeched, trying to shake the substance out and make any feeble attempt he could to get away. You ripped open the glitter glue next, aiming it right at his scalp.

“Give F/n back right now or I’m adding glitter. Lots of it.”

“......”

Han Jisung and Hwang Hyunjin just continued to stare at you dumbfounded. Because they didn’t respond, you emptied the entire container, not caring if it seeped into the boy’s eyes as you dropped everything else for the attic door. 

“OH SH*T! MY EYES! MY FACE! YOU GUYS SUCK! AHH—”

The roof latch clicked behind you.

Flying down the ladder and around the hall you ran with all your might for the front door. Surprisingly enough, however, Jeongin was having a tough time getting there himself, wrestling with F/n for a position that allowed him to keep them quiet while having the freedom to move quickly. Unfortunately for him, F/n wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Let...go…! Get…off…...ahh! Y/n!!!”

They were wrestling at the end of the hall, just above the stairs. You pushed yourself harder, faster, ready to pulverize this kid you once found cute and adorable.

Something was off, though. You noticed as you got closer. The way they fought— it was almost too carefully, like they were trying to avoid hitting something.

You found out too little too late. F/n’s eyes widened. 

“Y/n, no, look out—!”

Fwoosh!

Your foot tripped over a wire, and the three of you went tumbling upwards.

You couldn’t believe you fell for the same trick twice.

-〤〤〤-

“Hold still,” Hyunjin groaned, clawing at Felix’s bindings. The boy practically refused, squirming with all his might.

“I’m holding still! I can’t see!”

“What does that have to do with being still?!”

Felix fumed.

Han Jisung made his way to the top of the ladder, rolling onto his back to catch his breath. It wasn’t like he wanted to drive Y/n to do this. Rather, he was just having a little fun, passing time, and essentially, getting to know her. 

She was the girl he thought about spending quite a bit of his life with, after all.

He turned his head sideways, taking in the view of the mountains, the small forestry area, the big city on the other side. Dang it, he knew Y/n’s roof had a better view of the area. “Both of you...quit whining...for a sec…”

He fought to catch his breath. Normally he thought himself to be in pretty good shape, but maybe eating a whole cheesecake and slacking off last week for that Netflix marathon put him back a few steps. Diagonally above him, Hyunjin sighed, removing the last of Felix’s restraints. “Okay, there. You’re free now.”

Felix stood, immediately rubbing his shirt over his face and stretching his arms out wide, then his legs. He looked around. 

“Something wrong?” Hyun asked. Felix began to sweat, visible from a mile away.

“Oh, gosh, you guys. I still can’t see. I think I’m legally blonde.”

“......” Hyunjin blinked. “You mean legally blind? Legally Blonde is a movie.” He glanced up at his sparkling dishwater-green hair. “Also, your hair’s green now. An ugly green. And shiny. Too shiny—”

“Both of you shhh,” Han griped, sitting up sideways. He pushed himself up all the way, stumbling diagonally as he hiked up toward the other side of the roof. “Has Jeongin come out yet? Where’s Y/n?”

“I don’t know,” Felix spoke, swatting at his surroundings. “I can’t see anything.”

“He obviously wasn’t talking to you,” Hyunjin piped. He leaned over the edge, examining the front porch, then the lawn. “...I don’t know either. I didn’t hear the front door but, then again, I couldn’t hear anything with Whines-A-Lot back here blubbering so loud.”

“Why are you in such a bad mood today? Normally you’re really sweet and chill. And why is everyone attacking me all of a sudden?! I’m the one that agreed to be the bait of this operation! Me!”

“Okay, okay,” Han waved his hands. He really hated being the responsible one, but with these two at each other's throats and Jeongin nowhere to be found, he really had no other choice. “Felix, go inside and see if you can find Jeongin. Or Y/n. Anyone.”

Felix scoffed, throwing his hands in the air like a tossed salad. “Oh, yeah. Send the blind guy in. That plan always works. Makes total sense!”

“Oh, right...uhh, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin scrunched up his face. “No way. I’m not going in there. Breaking and entering is not going on my personal record. Pranks are fine, but I’m not violating the law. That’s your department, Mr. Fifteen-Unpaid-Speeding-Tickets.”

“......” Groaning, Han made his way to the top of the roof, kneeling just short of the peak to pull the lever. However, the door wouldn’t budge. “...It’s locked.”

“Locked?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Locked.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Shoot, why would she stop to lock the door? Now wh—”

“HAN JISUNG!!!”

All three college boys froze. Crouching, they whipped their heads around wildly. Even Felix. “What was that?!” He asked. “Was that Y/n?!”

“HAN!!!” Another called. Smaller, lighter, yet contradictingly more masculine. Hyunjin gasped. 

“That sounded like Jeongin!”

Then, suddenly, all three missing voices meshed together, the chorus dark and booming: “LET US OUT! LET US OUT LET US OUT LET US OUT!!!”

Hyunjin jumped to his feet, kicking and pounding at the door. “Quick, open the door! We have to rescue Jeongin!”

Han’s jaw fell a little. “What about Y/n?”

“What about her?!” He grunted, hitting the door harder. “Jeongin is our first priority!”

“I thought you didn’t like breaking and entering,” Felix sneered from the back, still waving at the air like a recently-blind person would. His elder tsked, scowling.

“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s life is in danger! Han, what the hell kind of trap did you put in there?!”

Han blinked, trying to process. Everything had gone South so quickly, curved in a direction he wasn’t expecting— he couldn’t think. His mind drew up blanks. Never in his thirteen years of pranking history had he ever not been in control of his own crafty work. 

Now his work was playing a joke on him. “Han! Hello?! Earth to Jisung?”

“...I…”

“What did you do in there?!”

“......” He swallowed, barely regaining his composure. “I set up another net. Just a quick one, like the one from earlier today.”

“What?!” Hyunjin roared. “But that took me all morning! How did you do it in five minutes?!”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “I did it in four.”

Hyunjin deadpanned, smacking a hand over his face. “‘Kay…how did you manage to pull that off?”

His superior in the art of mischief fell back on his behind, staring out seamlessly at nothing in particular. Obnoxiously calm for the circumstances. “I’ve been sneaking into her house every now and then when she left the back door open. I’d set up a small part here, or a spring wire there, just small stuff out of the way that no one’d notice. They’ve hardly been home with midterms going around.”

“......” Hyunjin shook his head in disbelief. “Han, there’s no way they wouldn’t notice or not accidentally set something like that off until now.”

Han turned back to him in earnest. “I just set the final wire down this afternoon. The activation one. One of them— probably Y/n— tripped over it.”

“...If that’s true, then…”

Another sonorous from down below reached the canopies above: “LET US OUT!!!”

Hyunjin dropped back on all fours. “LET US IN!!!” he cried, pounding on the hardwood door. “Jeongin, buddy, it’s going to be oka—”

“Come on!” Han said, leaping to his feet. He grabbed Felix by the wrist, tugging the two along behind him before making a crash landing for the bushes. No time to waste now. He needed to get his act together, take a leap of faith that, maybe, if he played his cards right, Y/n could see him in a whole new light.

It would be a long shot. If he remembered to jump from the right spot, anyway. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” Both boys screamed, clinging to each other’s sides. They hit the shrubs, bouncing forward and rolling into Y/n’s front yard.

“...Was that a trampoline???” Felix asked. Han scoffed, shoving the two off of him.

“I planted an emergency escape device in her bushes last week, just in case.” He dusted himself off, screwing his head on straight while jogging to the front porch. “What do I look like, stupid or something?” 

“......” Hyunjin watched him cross to the front door, lying upside down. “Do you want us to answer that?”

“...No.” 

Han rang the doorbell. Stamped his foot. Remembered all house guests and tenants were currently tied up at the moment, slapped himself, panicked. He banged his fist against the door. 

“Y/n?! It’s okay! Daddy’s going to fix this!”

Hyunjin made a noise (he was full of noises), tromping up the steps while Felix rolled himself around in the yard, trying to figure out which way was up and what he should do with himself. “Did you just call yourself—”

“Yes, now shut up.” Han dug around in his pocket, pulling out a key. “Heh heh heh…” 

He jimmied the lock, twisting and turning the key this way and that. But the door wouldn’t budge, not even an inch.

“Sh*t!” He grabbed his hair. “Why isn’t this working?! I made copies of her keys three weeks ago!”

Hyunjin glared sideways. “You changed out her locks two weeks ago.” 

Shoot, that was right. Han kicked the door, fuming. “Dang it! ...Ow!” 

He was spent. Gone. Energy depleting. And now, his foot hurt. Spinning around he banged his head against the door, sliding down to sulk on his backside. 

He hadn’t meant for things to go awry. He’d just wanted to mess with Y/n, see what made her tick, have some fun. Find out what she liked, what she didn’t like, maybe get up the nerve to ask her what she was doing for dinner next Saturday so he could mess with the food at her favorite restaurant and force her to come to a candle-lit dinner in his backyard instead, where he’d have her second-favorite takeout waiting on plates of gold he’d “borrowed” from Hyunjin’s aunt.

If only things would have worked out that way. “LET US OUT LET US OUT LET US OUT!!!” the house called.

Hyun and Han shared a pitiful look, plastering themselves to the walls and door. They had no choice. There was nothing left. “LET US IN LET US IN LET US IN!!!”

“HAN JISU— …” 

Quiet. That was strange. What was it quiet?! What happened?! What could have—

...Oh no. What if…!

“DON’T HURT JEONGIN!” Han screamed, pressing his nose to the glass. “PLEASE! Y/N F/N PLEASE HYUNJIN WILL KILL ME IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO HIM!!!”

“WHAT?!” Hyunjin yelled, pressing against the glass as well. “Move over, I can’t see! WHAT ARE YOU FIENDISH PEOPLE DOING TO HIM?!”

There was no response. Han began sweating profusely, feeling his heart ready to burst in a bad way. This was it. It was over. He’d have to call the cops to have them released, and then Han would probably go to jail for twenty-seven misdemeanors and a couple felony charges. Not to mention those unpaid speeding tickets.

Chink. Clunk. Creek.

A force against him gave way, the front door magically opening. As Han and Hyunjin fell forward, a blind, sparkling, green-haired man smiled down at them, standing at the other side.

-〤〤〤-

The clamouring coming from your front door set you on edge, wiggling and slashing at the ties that bound you. And F/n. And Jeongin.

The three of you piled on top of each other in an awkward heap, you being fortunate enough to have flipped on top. “Ow! Y/n, get your foot out of my eye!” F/n cried.

Apologetically, you shifted your weight, trying to give them room in the small net. Jeongin huffed as you did, making the most cumberous and uncomfortable face as you shifted your bottom over his backside, close to his head. “This is your fault for sneaking in here and trying to kidnap F/n,” you scolded, only feeling a little sorry given the circumstances.

He blushed, perplexingly so, carefully trying to claw his way to a corner that didn’t exist. “I, um...I’m sorry…”

Like that was enough to get the three of you out of this arrangement. Rolling your eyes, you focused your attention on the front door you could just barely see, tuning your ears to adjust and pick up on anything.

“What are they saying?” F/n asked. You shrugged, huffing and puffing disorderly.

“I don’t know. I can barely hear anything. They’re whispering. They keep looking over here, though.”

“Who opened the door?! How did they get in here???”

F/n was currently squished with their head facing the opposite direction, explaining their heighted insecurity and naggingness. You sighed, squinting and rocking your weight in order to make the small flexible cage sway to better see around the corner. “I think...Felix let them in. He must have used the back door or something.”

“Son of a b*tch, Y/n!!!” F/n quietly fumed. “This is why I always tell you to make sure both doors are locked! You never think to check the back door and it drives me crazy!!!”

“I know, I know okay?! Calm down! You’re gonna draw attention!”

“HAN!!!” Jeongin suddenly screamed. “FELIX! GET ME OUT OF THIS THING!!!”

Both you and F/n panicked. “SHHHHHHHH!!!”

He regarded the two of you like you were crazy. “Just five minutes ago you were screaming too!”

F/n hissed. “Yeah, well that was five minutes ago, and this is now!”

Jeongin sighed. “Listen, this is really uncomfortable for me, especially because you’re sitting...entirely too close to me,” he spoke, “so how about I make a deal with you two?”

“No way. I don’t make deals with demons. Or vipers, or monsters, or Fox-faced devils that sneak into our house and try to kidnap me!!!”

Jeongin sighed again, letting out a slight hiss of annoyance at the end. At the base of the stairs, Han and Hyunjin started making their ascent, Felix stumbling around a bit with a bandana now over his eyes before following after them.

“Oh shoot,” you whispered. “Here they come.”

Making his way around the net once, Han paused right square before you; and there it was, that evil flirtatious wink, tongue sweeping over his lips scarcely so. “S’up, gorgeous?”

Shoot me. I want to die.

Han poked your nose, making a little annoying sound effect and laughing when you teetered backwards, swatting away at the germs he left on your face. “Aww, I think someone doesn’t like their situation very much.”

“Lay off. Get us out of this stupid thing and then get the hell out. If you don’t, I’m calling the cops.”

Han chuckled and slapped his leg like you were just the cutest little thing to him. “Oh, alright, calm down princess. You’re just sour over falling for the same trick twice.”

It burned you how much truth there was to those words. You would have spit at him if F/n wasn’t at risk of being in the line of fire. “Just shut up and get us out of here. Take your friend with you.”

Tangled up behind you, Jeongin sputtered; you could feel him roll his eyes. “Gladly,” he muttered.

After admiring your pissed-off look for a few seconds, and Han taking a few selfies for his own selfish gain, Han and Hyunjin got right to work, snipping wires here, tugging at rope there. Eventually, after a few moments of unblissful trepidation and embarrassment, the net lowered gently, falling lifelessly about a foot above ground. 

The three of you groaned, F/n having the wind knocked out of them for a second. Scampering and shoving off of each other, you turned away the moment you found your legs, brushing yourself off and walking down the hall a few paces. Your feet prickled with numbness, then faded and blood rushed through. 

When you turned around to check on F/n and kick everyone else out, Han Jisung had already found his way to your face. “Hey there, gorgeous. All better?”

You scowled most irately, placing your hands on his chest to push him off and startling yourself when he wouldn’t budge, and your hands just...stayed there. “Get out of here. You got us out, now you’re no longer welcome.”

“Oh, was that all you needed from me?” He smiled. Almost tenderly. Or maybe it was, you didn’t know. “I’m hurt, Y/n. I thought maybe we could...talk more. Get to know one another.”

“What?!” You tried to see around him, but he mirrored your every step and movement. When you pulled your hands away, he latched onto your wrists, placing them back. His fingers smoothed over the backs of your hands, intertwining with yours. You gulped, a feeling in your gut exploding.

“This is nice,” he said softly, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. “Isn’t it?”

It most certainly was not nice. Not nice at all! ...Yet, you were having quite a bit of trouble telling him that. His hands were so soft and...rigid...even the small calluses that sprouted along his palms and outline were somehow oddly alluring, inviting you to stay. 

You shivered, bristling all over. No, no. Get ahold of yourself Y/n. This can’t happen. I can’t go down like this. 

Shaking your head you shoved yourself back instead, running two steps to the right...and slamming gently into the adjacent wall. Gently. Softly. Softly slamming.

What the hell, why was everything with Han Jisung so soft all of a sudden?! You bore your eyes up at him, seeing as he was now just...inches away from you...again...g-getting closer…

His nose brushed right up against yours. A breath caught in your throat, begging to scream. Everything else in your body was. He had slithered himself to press up against you.

You’re pretty sure, even if you couldn’t feel it, your face was the darkest shade of red right now. Han undoubtedly noticed too, simpering just a fraction from your lips. “What should we do now, princess? Should we…” He inched your waist forward. “...go next door?”

Next door. Next door, where the hellhole of disasters had started. 

...Something about that line just didn’t sit right with you. Feeling as if the whole moment had been ruined (and good gravy you had to get out of this), you shimmied yourself a bit of wiggle room and shot your knee skyward, wincing as a howl of pain rang out in your ear. You kicked Han back, making a run for F/n…

...Who was again, gone. Everyone was gone.

Turning around, Han gave you a childish salute, that flirtatious wink following him all the way out the front door. You couldn’t do anything. Just observe him leave in shock.

Until you heard a thump from downstairs, and raced to find Felix feeling his way around the kitchen. 

“Now, I know there’s a backdoor somewhere...it was in here when I came in…”

You bore your eyes into him. Smirked.

Five minutes later, his whines echoed all through the house and down the porch steps.

-〤〤〤-

It may not have been high noon, but that didn’t stop Hyunjin and Fox-face Jeongin from turning on an old western showdown score. 

You stood on your side of the property line, Felix rebound though now standing at your side. If he was miffed about his hair and the overzealous glitter drawing attention to it, he didn’t say anything. Possibly because being temporarily blind was pulling all his attention away.

On the other side, about ten or twelve meters from the line, stood Han Jisung, in all his hellion, dark-profiled glory. F/n was bound and gagged beside him, looking like a tick about to pop. You’d never seen that vein before, throbbing above their forehead. Hyunjin and Jeongin observed from afar, amongst the safety of shade and porch railing.

You lifted the megaphone you’d brought back with you from the roof. “On the count of three,” you instructed, gripping Felix’s sleeve tight. 

Han Jisung cackled, or his eyes did anyway, a sparkle of humor at play. “Alright. Hostage exchange on three.”

“Okay…”

You both paced exactly twenty-something steps until you were only two feet from the line.

“One…”

“Two…”

“...Thre—”

“Wait.”

Your mind did a little flip, attention spiraling upward. “What?”

The hellion next door smirked. “I have one condition.”

“Oh?” You sputtered. “So do I.”

“Ladies first.”

You deadpanned. “Stop intervening and disturbing my life and F/n’s sanity and I won’t call the cops.”

He laughed, a very hearty, joyful sound. It sort of...made your heart spin. “That’s fair. I can agree to those terms...if you agree to mine.” You scoffed.

“And what would that be?”

Han Jisung smiled. Brighter than the sun. For once, it was almost as if he was revealing a side of his persona to you he’d kept locked away all this time; he suddenly appeared to be genuine, sincere, and oh-so benevolent. Not to mention handsome. “Go on a date with me. Saturday, at five.”

“What?!”

The world came to a crash. Everything just seemed to stop, the birds even dropping like flies to gawk at the enigma that was Han Jisung. Behind him and to the left, Jeongin and Hyunjin stared at each other in bewilderment. Felix muttered some kind of disbelief beneath his breath. F/n looked like s/he really would pop.

“Mmm?!” They shrieked. Han chuckled, ruffling his hair away from his face and casting squinted eyes out over the neighborhood. 

“Yeah, uh...I’ll pick you up at five, if you like. I mean, you have to, because this is a condition. My deal. Where we’re going is a surprise, but I can give you a hint.” He leaned forward, twitching his nose a bit. “There’s a lot of action going on in the color department, and it usually gives me an allergy attack. But, I figured you may enjoy watching my face fall apart.”

“.........”

Slowly, you adjusted your gaze over to F/n. They were shaking their head wildly, though limitedly, so as not to tip off anyone. 

“.........” You turned your face back to Han Jisung. “...Make it five-thirty. I have an errand to run that day.”

He bit his lower lip to keep from smiling too much. “Deal. Okay, on three. One…”

“Two…”

“Three.”

You each pushed your captives over at the same time, Felix and F/n stumbling forward over the property line. Hyunjin and Jeongin raced down into the lawn while you quickly got to work untying and freeing your housemate. 

S/he turned and looked to you with the utmost confusion and disappointment in their eyes. You smiled, sadly, and turning away watched as three of the four boys embraced and spat at each other, Hyunjin and Jeongin poking and teasing Felix about his hair, and Han Jisung watching you back with stars in his eyes. Once a hellion, it was as if a great fog had lifted over the valley, and now you could see he was both day and night. A myriad of sunlight, and a mischievous moon.

“You’re not really going on a date with him,” F/n scolded, walking in sync with you up the porch steps and in through the front door. You waited until they were safely inside and halfway to the kitchen for another drink, waving and even winking in Han Jisung’s direction. It caught him off guard, and you snickered at his confused stare. 

“We’ll see,” is all you said, shutting the door behind you.

-〤〤〤-

Saturday, 5:25 p.m.

Your house mysteriously felt like the Island of the Lost.

“F/n! Have you seen my hairbrush?!”

Running back and forth in front of the TV, up and down the stairs, rummaging through both bathrooms, F/n sighed, annoyed at having their early-evening talk show interrupted. They set the TV on mute. “What are you looking for? Your hairbrush?”

You nodded, heading back towards the upstairs bath. F/n jumped up from a commercial break, following you.

“How did you manage to lose your hairbrush? Sheesh, Y/n, you’ve been forgetful all day.”

You turned toward the mirror, staring worrisome eyes at the curlers in your hair, the sloppily-applied two minute makeup job on your face. F/n noticed as well, giving a small pout as s/he crossed their arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Where are you going, anyway?”

Uh-oh. “Hmm...?”

You pretended not to hear that. F/n blinked, their face falling to an unimpressed state. “I asked, where are you going?”

“......”

“......”

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Crap. It wasn’t five-thirty yet!

F/n turned toward the sound, their brows lifting in minor surprise. “Who could that be? Are you expecting a package or anything?”

They began wandering in the direction of the staircase, but you cringed, throwing yourself as a blockade. “Ahahahahahahaha! …” Sweat. “...I-I’ll get it. You should get back to your show!”

F/n gasped, pushing past you and gracefully making a sharp left just a few feet from the door. Phew. 

You peered around the corner, trying to make out the silhouette through the foggy glass. 

Tall-ish. A bit on the short side. Skinny? Seemingly masculine.

It had to be him. Panic struck you like a bat out of hell, scrambling to the bathroom and ripping the curlers out of your hair. You fought through three bottles of creams and mascara while juggling your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth, rinsing, spitting, and finally flipping your hair down, shaking it loose and flipping back over.

Oh yeah. Messy-chic look. Perfect. With a touch of gloss (or lipstick) you smoothed out your casual-dressy outfit before skipping downstairs and slipping on your favorite dress shoes at the door, purse slung over your bodice.

This was it. You discreetly shifted your eyes to the left. F/n was still inthralld in their talk show. Now was your chance for a clean getaway without any awkward accusations or encounters.

Taking a deep, measured breath, you gingerly opened the door, blowing it out on the exhale. Han Jisung stood in all his new-lighted glory, his back turned to you as he examined the neighborhood, waiting.

You gave a small cough, stepping out and locking up behind you. Han turned around, his eyes widening when he saw you. “Whoa...uh…”

“Yes?” Your gaze traveled down to the flowers in his hand. “Are those for me, or an apology to F/n?”

You both laughed, Han thrusting them forward a bit forcefully. An awkward color painted a ring around his face, across his ears and along the curves of his cheeks. “Uh, b-both, I guess. ...But, mainly for you.”

He was nervous. For real this time. You smiled, taking the small bouquet and burying your face into the petals. You inhaled deeply. “...Mmm...they smell really nice!”

You beamed. For maybe five seconds. After that, a spout of water soaked your forehead.

Han Jisung pressed his lips together, trying his darndest not to laugh. His eyes avoided you entirely, observing everything but your face. A moment later, he bolted, signalling for his groupies to turn on the sprinklers. Coffee rained down on both of your lawns, dyeing both sides murky Vanilla Latte.

You chased him down the porch steps, through the caffeinated shower, laughing.

-〤〤〤-

“...And that about wraps up our show for today!”

F/n flipped the TV off, turning their gaze to the window. Is it raining already?

As they approached the window, their jaw fell. They opened the window. “Y/N!!! HAN JISUNG!!!”

...It was no use.

Pulling up a chair, they fell to their knees, observing the bizarre weather in a moment of acceptance. They extended their mug over the windowsill, sighing as the caffeinated shower refilled their morning latte.

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

[aros001]

First time read through light novel vol. 4. Random thoughts.

So this is where mayonnaise came into the story. I still remember my sheer utter confusion over the mayo bath in the Memory Snow OVA, having no memory of the anime ever bringing up any of Subaru's love for the condiment. As a positive for him at least, it's cool that Emilia apparently really likes it too and that he's the one who figured out how to makes the stuff in this new world.

“The lad’s eyes interested me ever so slightly. They said he has crossed the boundary of death. Many come close to the line, stop, and draw back, but...” Wilhelm lowered his lids in thought as his words trailed off. “Those are the eyes of one who has crossed once, no...several times, and returned. I know of no such being. You might say I was compelled by curiosity.”

How would he know what the eyes of someone like that look like if he's never met anyone like that before Subaru?

“Listen and be amazed, look and be astounded! Behold, the ultimate combat technique—RoSciPer!!”

“What is that...thing?! You did not inform me such a hand was possible!”

“Shut up! I didn’t mention it, but it’s your fault you didn’t ask! That part is rock, this here’s scissors, and over there is paper! In other words, my hand’s beaten your rock!”

That is so freaking petty. But on the other hand, maybe Priscilla would respect him for it anyway? I could see her having no problem with winning however you can, even if it's by being unfair and tricking your opponent, as long as you keep your own pride.

“—But I wonder what Master Roswaal is thinking?”

She inclined her head slightly as she voiced her doubts about the instructions her master had left that morning.

“He said, ‘Do not stand in Subaru’s way no matter what Lady Emilia may say to you.’”

It was as if he’d anticipated Subaru’s actions and had instructed her accordingly. She also wondered why he was valuing Subaru’s opinion above Emilia’s.

Hmm...now that's curious.

“That’s right, bro. It’s been eighteen years since I got summoned here. I lost my arm around the same time... Right around the age you are right now.”

Just like that, Al confessed to Subaru that he’d experienced the same situation.

...Wait...WHAT?! If this was in the anime then I completely forgot about it because holy sh*t, Al is from another world too?! And according to him he arrived 18 years ago and was about the same age as Subaru is (and Subaru is roughly 17, isn't he?). No idea if he can Return By Death and if he can he might have the same penalty for trying to talk about it as Subaru does, so he obviously couldn't talk about it, but this is a huge deal. It's a great bit to add to Subaru's story, showing off what could have happened to him and what he could still eventually become. It probably deepened his obsession with Emilia a little bit too, since she's the main difference between him and Al.

“Unfortunately, Lady Emilia, this is not the time or place for you to argue. If all the facts become clear, Subaru will be staying here...for a very, veeery long time.”

Okay, Roswaal f**king knows and is planning something.

They talk about a Dragon Tablet handed down by Holy Dragon Volcanica, which has given predictions and warnings about great disasters that did actually occur. Naturally, my first thoughts are that this Holy Dragon (or whoever wrote the tablet) might have had abilities like Subaru's RBD and that he'll have his own role to play.

Felt might be a long lost princess of the royal family that was wiped out in a strangely specific plague and Subaru met both her and Emilia first in this world because she stole for her the thing that proved she was a worthy candidate for being a Dragon Maiden. It kind of feels like the Witch of Envy is like the Force from Star Wars with how well she made the destinies and chance encounters line up.

I never really liked Ferris that much, and not because he's a cat-boy trap. It's more the way he talks. I like things that are cute but I can't stand things that are cutesy.

While Crusch's idea for the future of the kingdom is nothing that should be rushed, and most certainly should be done with care as not to piss off the dragon, I get where she's coming from, that they are too reliant on the dragon's blessings and not doing enough for themselves. It's a classic argument I've seen plenty in superhero stories. There's no denying the heroes have done a lot of good but when the people become too dependent on them and if/when the heroes can't help anymore, what's going to happen then? It's one of my favorite plot points in My Hero Academia, where common citizens thinking "It's fine, a hero will show up and take care of it." and not helping where they should have eventually gave rise to one of their world's most dangerous and infamous supervillains.

“A-and now you make threats. These words and this show of force convey, ‘Do as I say or you shall be an icicle.’ If this is not blackmail, what is...?!”

Then, Emilia wholeheartedly affirmed his suspicions.

“—Yes, I am threatening you.” She continued, “I shall make my case to the esteemed members of the Council of Elders once more. My name is Emilia. I spent a long time in the Great Forest of Elioor, the World of Eternal Frost, and am served by Puck, the Great Spirit that governs fire mana. I am a silver-haired half-elf. The people of the nearby villages called me...”

Emilia paused, surveying the faces of the Council of Elders on the dais.

“...the Freezing Witch, born in the Frozen Forest.”

Holy sh*t, I am way more into Emilia's character here than I was in the anime! That was awesome! Her whole speech after too and her finally being given some respect. It's not like she didn't have any personality or agency in the anime. It's not like she could have just been replaced by a sexy lamp and nothing would be different like you could with the heroines of other series. But she definitely feels like she has more here, like there's more fire to her. Like hot damn, even I want to see her become queen now!

...And then Subaru opens his mouth again...and promptly inserts his foot.

Yeah, I suppose Subaru white knighting for Emilia in front of all the actual white knights is probably one of the more infamous scenes of the series, huh? It's one of those weird things where you feel you know what Subaru should have done but at the same time, if he hadn't snuck into the castle, we wouldn't have gained his relationships with Priscilla and Al or have seen as much of the meeting as we did. It's good for the story and eventually it's good for character development but it's hard not to wince a little at everything Subaru does in this part, especially because he himself reflects and feels guilty at a few points about how badly he could have messed everything up for Emilia and Roswaal.

I've thought a lot more about Subaru's white knighting ever since I watched the anime, mostly because of characters like Motoyasu from Rising of the Shield Hero and Mitsurugi from Konosuba; two LN series I read before this one. Chivalry isn't a bad thing. Trying to stand up and fight for someone you care about isn't a bad thing. But like Emilia points out, she never asked Subaru to do any of that for her. She didn't want him to do any of that for her. In fact, he deliberately went against what she did ask of him to go and do all of that. With these three characters, the problem with their white knighting is that they're doing it with no regard to what the person they're white knighting for actually wants. In many cases, like Emilia also points out, Subaru wasn't really doing it for her. He was doing it for himself. To make himself feel better. To place himself closer to her. And she's not exactly wrong that their relationship seems to be entirely just two people repaying their debts to each other, even though she has no idea what debt Subaru feels he owes her.

The ironic thing is, if Subaru wanted to get closer to Emilia and have value to her, he already found a way to do that in one of his previous lives. On his second or third loop in the mansion arc, Puck told him that Emilia doesn't have a lot of experience with friends and really wants some. During that loop, Subaru and Emilia are just hanging out, enjoying each other's company, laughing. It's made clear she does genuinely like having him around. Just being her friend was enough for her and there's still plenty of ways her friend could have helped her through such a trying time, without embarrassing her in front of everyone in the castle or making her think it's her fault he keeps getting hurt.

I think Subaru's big problem, and what he needs to grow out of, isn't that he's an idiot (though he can certainly do dumb things) but rather that he's immature. Not immature like he's a child (though sometimes...) but immature in that he hasn't developed enough to properly react to certain situations. He was a shut-in who constantly skipped school. He doesn't have a lot of experience with other real people and doesn't know how to properly interact with them, defaulting too often to what he's seen in fantasy stories. I think that's a problem both he and Rem share to an extent. They don't know what it means to be in love. That's not to say that Subaru's love for Emilia isn't real or that Rem's love for Subaru isn't real. Rather that they don't know what to do with it. They don't know how they should act towards the person they're in love with or how to show their love, so too often they default to either obsession or devotion or both. And so if they want to have a healthy, happy relationship with the person they love, they have to acknowledge and address their own immaturity and basically grow up a bit.

Nice little detail that Julius beat on Subaru to keep any other knights from going after and possibly killing him...and because he was at least a little annoyed by Subaru's words. He's a good guy...but still human.

And again with Roswaal working things behind the scenes. He gave orders for Subaru (or at least a servant bearing his family crest like Subaru would be) to be allowed to pass into the castle. I imagine he did have a back-up plan for if Subaru never showed up but the man definitely knows or suspects something about Subaru and/or what's going on with him. I mean, benefit of the doubt, if he doesn't know about RBD, from the outside it does look like Subaru has some kind of prophetic abilities, as twice now he's known about future events that would have destroyed everything Roswaal's been working towards and used that knowledge to prevent them. Making things easier for Subaru to act just in case he had another "vision" would have been in Roswaal's best interest. He might be thinking Subaru is like the Holy Dragon, thus Roswaal has his own personal Dragon Tablet. But I can't help but feel things go deeper than that. At the very least I'm glad Subaru's outburst and Roswaal trying to smite him with fire was apparently part of the plan. 1, Roswaal is just a really fun character and I don't want to lose that, but 2, he definitely seems like a guy you don't want to have against you.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/Re_Zero/comments/gontd5/novels_first_time_read_through_light_novel_vol_4/

[perihelionicarus]

Katsucon 2017 is over at last and this is the best/worst thing that came out of the weekend

Lance: me Keith: @shigatsu-san Shiro: Zonderliing on IG

[riathenowheregirl]

Gold Dust Women: My Favorite Witchy Singers

Okay, before you burn me alive with “Where’s this certain artist?!” or “Why is this certain artist not here?!” or “Who even uses Tumblr these days?”, uhmmm me bish?? It’s my safe zone. Okay, the last question was a joke. 

Can I just say that the amazing women on this list are artists I listen to all the time. They’re my favorites, so chill (I’m open for suggestions tho). This is not Rolling Stone or Billboard magazine, it’s just ya girl’s good ol’ tumblr blog. Also, I’m not saying that all of them are literal w i t c h e s, it’s just that they portray the same aesthetic through their art and music. 

Alright, now that’s settled, let’s start.

1. STEVIE NICKS 

Do I even need to explain this? Stevie is undoubtedly the Etheral Queen of them all, the Pioneer, the O.G. Supreme whose lyrical soul and spellbinding voice echoes from the distant past to the inevitable future. Everything about her oozes with witchcraft and magic starting from her iconic top hat, to her millions of intricately made shawls, down to her platform boots. Only Stevie Nicks could pull off such Not-of-this-Era outfits and she has been doing it CONSISTENTLY. She’s in a timeline of her OWN. If you listen to her music, you would notice that every song of hers is poetry, like she’s telling a story or conjuring the unknown. She’s every witchy woman’s icon and that’s a fact.

Stevie is an untouchable yet gracious legend, we’ll always be a part of her sisterhood until the day of earth’s decay. Forever the Queen of Rock N’ Roll. 

Current Favorite Stevie Lyrics:  “ You can fly swinging from your trapeze, scaring all the people...but you'll never scare me.”  |   “Once in a million years a lady like her rises. Oh no, Rhiannon, you cry, but she's gone and your life knows no answer.”

Notice how I used the word “current”? Because it always changes depending on the state my life. Here’s a more detailed post on why I love her.   

2. KATE BUSH 

“Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy, I've come home, I'm so cold! Let me in through your window!”

The eccentric beauty, Kate Bush made a genius, artistic move by writing a song about the book, Wuthering Heights, written by Emily Brontë in the 1800′s. Mind you, she was only 18 when she wrote and was the first song written by a female artist that landed on top the charts. Her voice is almost as distinctive as Stevie Nicks. While Stevie’s more nasal, commanding, wailing rock n’ roll goddess, Kate’s voice was high-pitched, alarming, ghostly, queer, and fairy-like. Everything about her is Performance Art. This is a woman who is not afraid to express herself.

For starters, you might think her music is strange and weird. Trust me, I felt the same way when I first heard her songs. But then, it began to grow on me leaving floral patterns on its path. 

Favorite Kate Bush Lyrics:  “Do you want to feel how it feels? Do you want to know that it doesn't hurt me? Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making? You, it's you and me.”

3. FLORENCE WELCH 

This one is as obvious as Stevie Nicks. Florence Welch from the band, Florence + the Machine, is a poetess, a screaming banshee, and a full-pledged Sister of the Moon. She even started a witch coven during middle school. From her red carpet looks to her everyday outfits on Instagram, Florence vibrates powerful witch energy. Not to mention she has a song called “Which Witch” and that haunting music video for Big God with levitating women. Flo is not a woman to trifle with, I’ll tell you that. 

Photos courtesy of @lillieeiger

In all her songs, Florence will bind you with magic and it’ll leave you breathless. If Stevie’s songs are poetry, hers are spells you could sing out loud. Also, if you haven’t seen her house tour, go check it now! 

Favorite Florence Welch Lyrics: “'Cause I am done with my graceless heart so tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart.”  |  “And in a moment of joy and fury I threw myself in the balcony like my grandmother so many years before me.”

4. LANA DEL REY

Remember when Lana used witchcraft to hex Donald Trump? It was all over the news and Twitter went wild. She was later quoted saying, “I really do believe that words are one of the last forms of magic and I’m a bit of a mystic at heart.” Oh, and she also did a collab with Stevie. 

We. Stan. Forever.

There was even a time that I MEMORIZED the monologue in the music video for Ride. ALL OF IT, HUNNY. 

Lana’s hypnotizing vocals together with her sixties baby doll dresses and Priscilla Presley hair is enough to convince me that she’s not of this era. She has a deep understanding of the beauty of past generation and the looming sadness and nostalgia that comes with it. Whenever I listen to her music, I imagine myself as a rockstar’s muse who is involved with the mafia but then I decided to leave him while taking his gun and convertible. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Favorite Lana Del Rey Lyrics: “Well, my boyfriend's in the band. He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed. I've got feathers in my hair, I get down to Beat poetry. And my jazz collection's rare, I can play most anything.”

5. LORDE 

David Bowie didn’t call her the “future of music” for nothing. Just two albums under her belt, Lorde already proved that she will one day become a legend herself. Her music narrates an unparalleled interpretation of the anguish and fleeting charm of our youth. She knows what we’re feeling because she’s been there herself and is on the road to healing just like us. 

I think the message she’s trying to say is that we’re constantly losing grip on our innocence, and that life is often wicked so we need to accept that, grit our teeth, get on with it, and make art. She can also see color when she hears music. 

In my opinion, Lorde is one of the greatest artists of my generation. 

Favorite Lorde Lyrics: “The truth is I am a toy that people enjoy till all of the tricks don't work anymore, and then they are bored of me.”  |   “That slow burn wait while it gets dark, bruising the sun, I feel grown up with you in your car. I know it's dumb.” 

6. FKA TWIGS

Honestly, FKA Twigs is literally art in living form, a celestial angel that nobody can easily decipher. This woman has more talent in her fingertips than I could ever have in a lifetime. She somehow reminds me of a young Kate Bush; fearless, experimental, with an intoxicating voice. She never stops reinventing herself and it’s beautiful.

In FKA Twigs’ world, there are no limits, just endless galaxies. She pours her whole being in all of her songs and it shows. She’s not for the faint of heart, let me tell you that. 

Favorite FKA Twigs Lyrics:  “And I don't want to have to share our love. I try but I get overwhelmed. All wrapped in cellophane, the feelings that we had.” 

7. SKOTT 

I say this all the time, but I cannot write without Skott’s music blasting on my earphones. She grew up in a “forest commune run by outcast folk musicians” and was not exposed to contemporary music until her teen years. You would notice it in her songs. 

It’s hard to explain why, but listen to Skott’s music when there’s thunder and rain outside, then you’ll know why this woman is witchy. I kind of want her to be more popular and known, but then again, I also want to keep her to myself. Scratch that, LISTEN TO SKOTT’S MUSIC NOW. 

Start with Glitter & Gloss. 

Favorite Skott Lyrics: “Like an empty canvas, hear me cry. Like a masterpiece, I'm in your eyes. Now your colors are in front of me, we're a picture-perfect oddity.”

8. FIRST AID KIT 

I fell in love with this sister duo when I first heard their song, Emmylou, while browsing YouTube. It’s one of those moments of instant magic. Klara and Johanna Söderberg are a coven of their own. I would describe their music as “Woodland Folk laced with runes and wild flowers”. 

Their voices compliment each other so much that it reminded me of Simon & Garfunkel (they even performed their own version of America in front of Paul Simon!!!). First Aid Kit has this Woodstock seventies vibe, and you know me, I live for that sh*t. 

Favorite First Aid Kit Lyrics: “ When I run through the deep dark forest long, after this begun, where the sun would set, the trees were dead and the rivers were none. And I hope for a trace to lead me back home from this place, but there was no sound there was only me, and my disgrace.”

9. ZOLA JESUS

Zola Jesus’ music deserves to be played with an orchestra inside an abandoned castle in Transylvania while it gently rains and you’re wearing a white nightgown as you roam its empty halls. Is that too much?

 Not at all. 

Like Skott, I listen to Zola whenever I’m having writer’s block. If I ever finish my book, I’m gonna have to thank them. 

Favorite Zola Jesus Lyrics: “I'm on my bed, my bed of stones, but in the end of the night we'll rest our bones, so don't you worry. Just rest your head cause in the end of the night we'll be together again.”

10. ZELLA DAY 

Photo Credits to Harper Smith

I LOVE ZELLA DAY’S MUSIC OH MY GOODNESS. My favorite songs of her are Sweet Ophelia, Hypnotic, Man on the Moon, and Hunnie Pie. ESPECIALLY HUNNIE PIE. I cry whenever I hear that song. It’s just so pure, calming, and beautiful. 

Her music belong in the psychedelic era. 

People labeled her as the “happier version of Lana Del Rey” but I think she’s in a league of her own. She deserves more recognition, honestly! 

Favorite Zella Day Lyrics: “The older we get there's an ocean of people in places we've chosen and you know how mama keeps saying “we've gotta stop the games we're playing””. 

Hope you guys approve of my list! I really like sharing stuff that I love! Feel free to message me for more suggestions, I’d really appreciate to know more witchy artists out there. We’re all in a huge coven of sisterhood. 

Thanks for reading!

Love, 

Ria  🌙

P.S.

Please follow my blog!!! THANK YOU  🔮

[galladerocksgamer]

I saw several other blogs passing this around and it looked fun so I decided I’d give it a shot and see if I can’t spread it around to some others to do too!

Pick 5 shows, then answer the following questions!  Don’t look at them first. Then tag some people.

Gravity Falls

BoJack Horseman

My Hero Academia

Trollhunters

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Who is your favorite character in 2?

Wow I’ve never really stopped to consider this one that hard before.  My gut reaction is to say Todd because he is simply wonderful.  But Diane is definitely up there too, she’s a character that I really connected to in ways I didn’t expect.  Princess Carolyn is in the running too, her series-long character arc was one of the most heartbreaking and heartwarming.  I’m not sure I can pick one fave, I just love the development of these three.

Who is your least favorite character in 1? 

Uh geez I’m not sure I really have a LEAST favorite, I can’t think of anyone that I particularly dislike.  I mean sure there are characters that I dislike because they’re jerks, like Filbrick or Preston or (duh) Bill, but in terms of like disliking them as a character?  I’m probably gonna say Priscilla Northwest, she’s as much of a rich jerk as her husband but is a lot less entertaining.  Or maybe Gabe Bensen, he’s the least amusing of Mabel’s various love interests to me.

What is your favorite episode of 4? 

A House Divided.  Just ... no contest, it’s A House Divided.  Haven’t seen much else that just stops my dang heart like the ending of that episode.  It just HURTS OKAY.  In all the best ways.  Jimhunters and Unbecoming are very close seconds.

What is your favorite season of 5? 

Overall I think it’s gotta be Season 3.  There’s a lot that I love in Season 2 especially, but on the whole Season 3 just has so much going for it.  There’s some fantastic character development and new moral issues explored within the Fire Nation itself.  There’s the invasion, Zuko joining the Gaang and having various life-changing adventures, the Boiling Rock, the freaking Ember Island Players, and of course one of the absolute best series finales in television. So yeah, it’s gotta be Season 3.

Who is your favorite couple in 3? 

Tbh I don’t really have that many ships for MHA (probably in the minority on that one).  There’s really only two couples I’m particularly into, and that’s Mirio/Amajiki and Yaoyorozu/Jiro.  Mirio is just so supportive of Amajiki and they’re just cute and GAH they’re fantastic.  And Yaoyorozu and Jiro, I think it was the first movie that got me attached to them, they’re just super cute too.  They’re both just pure adorable pairs, I love them.

What is your favorite episode of 1? 

Once again, no contest, because Not What He Seems is just, like, my favorite episode of literally anything ever.  It’s just SO GOOD.  The culmination of so much story and theory, the animation, the music, the tension of the climax, the ending reveal.  It’s just.  The best.  Gosh.  Weirdmageddon 3 is definitely close, the best finale in animation imo, but just absolutely nothing beats Not What He Seems.

What is your favorite episode of 5? 

Okay now this one is actually tough.  I’m probably gonna say Zuko Alone, it’s just brimming with heartwarming and heartbreaking material, between Zuko’s childhood flashbacks and his touching - and tragic - present story.  The Tales of Ba Sing Se is the other top candidate, of course it has the tearjerker Iroh story that is probably my favorite thing in the whole series, but I also love, well, the whole thing.  The Katara/Toph and Zuko stories are so sweet and pure, the Sokka story is hilarious, and the Momo story is also dang sad.  The Blind Bandit, Sokka’s Master, and The Southern Raiders are also personal favorites.

what is your favorite season of 2? 

I am surprised I have a definitive answer for this because the whole series is so transcendentally great, but I do in fact have an answer, and it is Season 4.  It’s my favorite story arc of the series, with BoJack for once not having a special project to center his life on, still reeling from what happened to Sarah Lynn, and having Hollyhock and Beatrice rather suddenly entering his daily life.  It’s about the closest we ever see to BoJack having some semblance of a family life.  The whole storyline of Hollyhock and Beatrice is just fantastic, and it’s the start of the real meat of Todd and Princess Carolyn’s character arcs too - and ends with the setup for Diane and Mr. Peanutbutter finally breaking their destructive cycle.  Plus it’s got my two favorite episodes of the entire series - The Old Sugarman Place and Stupid Piece of Sh*t.  Also Time’s Arrow is definitely top 10, maybe even top 5.  Also also love Hooray! Todd Episode!  And Thoughts and Prayers.  And Ruthie.  Yeah seriously no contest it is my favorite season.

How long have you watched 1? 

I started watching Gravity Falls really near the beginning.  The first episode I watched was The Inconveniencing, the fifth episode overall, and after that I was immediately intrigued and went back and watched the first four.  After that, I watched the whole series as it went.

How did you become interested in 3? 

I don’t tend to watch a lot of anime, and my experience with shounen before MHA was touch-and-go.  Like I’m a big fan of Fairy Tail and to a lesser extent Dragon Ball but I’m still heavily critical of both and would have a hard time recommending them without a heavy disclaimer.  So it was something I’d considered before but never really took the plunge into watching until, funnily enough, my anime-adverse girlfriend decided to check it out.  She’s significantly less anime-invested than me (well, she used to be at least) but lo and behold, we both wound up obsessed with it.  Color me surprised that this series wasn’t being overhyped and didn’t come with the glaring flaws of every other shounen I’ve watched.  So now this is definitely my big interest of the moment, and I am grateful to have it.

Who is your favorite actor in 4? 

Anton Yelchin, he just brought so much heart and emotion to Jim.  He’s a big part of the reason that Unbecoming just snaps my heart in two, my gosh.  As for comedic delivery, Kelsey Grammer absolutely kills it as Blinky, not that I’d expect any less from him.  He just has so many lines that completely crack me up and that’s largely because of his delightfully hammy delivery.

Which do you prefer: 1, 2, or 5? 

Oh my gosh they are literally my three favorite pieces of media in existence.  But it’s Gravity Falls.  Like I would just roll over and die without any of these three but it’s not debatable, the absolute #1 in my heart is Gravity Falls.

If you could be anyone from 4, who would it be? 

Probably Toby?  I think I’d be good in the “well-meaning dorky disaster-prone best friend” role.

Would a crossover between 3 and 4 work? 

Theoretically, maybe?  Magical troll warriors team up with superheroes to fight a wizard supervillian.  It could happen.

Pair two characters in 1 who would make an unlikely but strangely okay couple?

Hmm, not sure I have a good answer to this one.  I’ll just say Manly Dan and Tyler.  It’s not exactly an ODD pick because we see them together quite a few times and honestly they always look like a dang couple, but we never really see what their INTERACTION is like, so it’s kinda difficult to judge exactly how that relationship does/would work.  But I think it’s a nice one to think about.

Overall, which show has the best storyline: 3 or 5?

Oof.  Probably gonna have to say AtLA on this one, if only because MHA isn’t exactly that focused on a super-condensed story at this point?  Its progress tends to come through more world-building and character development than major plot beats, though it certainly has that too.  So yeah I’ll say AtLA.

Which has better theme music: 2 or 4? 

Oh absolutely BoJack, it’s one of my favorite theme songs.

Okay, I’m only gonna actually tag @immaplatypus for this, but if you see this and want to do it then absolutely go right ahead and do it!  I’ve had fun seeing some other people doing these and would love to see even more going forward.

[incorrectlooneytunesquotes]

Petunia: [whispers] Priscilla, come here, quick!  Priscilla, do you see that guy over there?

Priscilla: Daddy?

Petunia: Listen, I want you to go over there and tell him that you heard that I thought he was cute.

Priscilla: [goes over to Porky] Mommy said that she heard that she thinks you're cute.

Porky: H-who?

Priscilla: Mommy!

Porky: M-M-M-Mommy said that she heard that she thinks she's cute?

Priscilla: You!

Porky: Y-y-y-you tell her that I think that she is allllllriiiiight! [Pork stops Priscilla] W-w-w-wait, wait, wait, c-c-come back here a minute.  B-but don't tell her that I said it.  You tell her that you heard that I m-m-might have said it.

[Priscilla nods and goes to Petunia]

Priscilla: Daddy said that he might heard that you are goooooourgest!

Petunia: I want you to go back and tell him that you thought you heard that I would like to go out on a date with him Saturday night at 12:05.

Priscilla: [to Porky] Mommy said that she heard that she would like to go on a date with you at three-oh-oh.

Porky: T-t-t-tell her that at 0300, the l-l-leukocytes will take over all of the m-m-minejectnofields and that I will kiss her on the steps of the B-B-B-Broken Arms hotel.

Priscilla: [to Petunia] He said a zeuklomax and a zuklomax may bo and she wants, uh he wants to meet you on the steps of the hotel-of-something.

Petunia: Now...

Priscilla: No no no, come on. [leads Petunia over to Porky]

Porky: W-w-w-what did she say?

Priscilla: No no no!

Porky: Sh-sh-sh-she said n-n-no?

[millieswickedbooks]

the somewhat tragic story of georgie’s savior - chapter one

CHAPTER ONE: what exactly happened on the eventful rainy afternoon in Derry, Maine of April 1989

(1/?)

previous chapter || masterlist || next chapter >>

pairing: Loser’s Club x black!OC (platonic), Pennywise x black!OC (NOT ROMANTIC AT ALL)

word count: 4,613

WARNINGS: PENNYWISE, the Bowers’ gang, so much swearing y’all, racism, racial slurs, assault, bullying, blood, injury, child abuse, literal child dismemberment (duh), scars, mentions of self-harm (cutting), throwing up/puke, attempted drowning, mention of major oc death, mention of sexual assault

 ☹

 WHEN JORDYN GARCIA WOKE UP at 11:03 a.m. this morning actually wanting to go outside for once, she knew she should've ignored the feeling. She was so stupid for not doing so. It was weird, she never wants too! She usually never went out because the racists would make her feel uncomfortable by glaring down at her and because she never knew if Hell-On-Legs a.k.a Henry Bowers and his goons would be around the corner and that alone made her shiver in fear. But alas she wanted to go out this weekend. She hated to admit it but staying in the house was boring and it was nice out. Despite the cold, scared feeling deep in her gut told her to stay inside, she decided to ignore it and went to brush her teeth and shower.

After showering, Jordyn put on some slightly sheer black tights—to conceal the other scars on her thighs—some blue denim shorts, pink ankle socks and some all-white Vans. She stood there staring at a red Beastie Boys t-shirt. It was a short sleeve.

‘Should I wear it?’ Jordyn thought to herself. She looked down at her arms. They were both covered in many ugly, straight white scars she inflicted on herself. God, she hated them so much. They stood out so much due to her dark brown skin. She hated herself for doing this to herself. 

She angrily stuffed the shirt into the drawer, not caring if it wasn’t folded like the rest of the shirts in there and slammed the drawer shut. She huffed, walked over to her closet and threw on a white long-sleeve top and called it a day. She turned the mirror and looked up at her head. After putting some leave-in conditioner in her light brown and blonde mane, she put it in a neat bun. She looked at her finished product and smiled. She liked how new dye and highlights looked on her. 

‘Pretty good for a rookie,’ she thought to herself. Then she frowned, her hair reminding her of her mother, Priscilla Garcia.

'Mom always loved my hair, she thought it was my best feature...' Jordyn closed her eyes, making a fist and dug her nails into her palms, chastising herself for thinking of her mom– her dead mother. She took a deep breath in and calmed herself down, deciding she was ready and exiting her room.

She went downstairs and sighed at the sight she saw. Her father, Isaiah Garcia, was passed out on the floor, glass and other things all thrown about all over the floor. Jordyn looked down at her father she loved so deeply and shook her head in disappointment. He got super drunk last night... it was an absolute sh... crap show.

Long story short, voices were raised, tears were shed and glass bottles and other objects were thrown. She at first thought the whole thing was a dream but she saw all the bruises and cuts on her knees and calves to prove that last night wasn't a dream. She shook her head at herself, knowing she was smarter than to believe something like that.

She grabbed a broom and swept the glass shards and other things away, throwing them in the trash. She washed her dishes and then grabbed a clean glass, poured some water in it and grabbed some painkillers out of the medicine cabinet, walking over to the living room and setting them down on the surface of the living room table for her father. Jordyn then crouched down and began to lift her father off the ground, well, she struggled to lift him off of the ground.

'Jesus, what does this man eat?' Jordyn thought to herself. She almost dropped him and quickly balanced herself. After a couple more attempts, she managed to lay her father onto the couch. She stood there, trying to catch her breath and stared at her father, shocked by two things; the fact that the man didn't wake up at all during the whole process and that she had managed to find the strength to do that.

She went upstairs, grabbed a blanket and tucked her father in and repositioned his head on the pillow so he wouldn't get a neck cramp. She kissed her father's forehead and then grabbed the TV remote.

"A clown?!" was the last thing heard from the TV as Jordyn turned it off.

She happily walked out of the house, liking the feeling of the sun on her skin. She contemplated grabbing her skateboard but after thinking it over for a long minute, she decided against taking it with her. She wandered down the street, nibbling on her brownie, enjoying the feeling of the sun on her face and the cool breeze. Jordyn felt like she wouldn't regret this after all.

  ☹

  After a while of walking around, she found herself being stared at by two white guys and a white girl. As she walked past them she faintly heard the word, "...n*gger" being said in their conversation. The vile word had caused a cold feeling to settle deep in her gut as her chest warmed with anger. Jordyn rolled her eyes because god, she didn’t even need to do anything for people to come at her neck. 

Then she remembered a certain someone who always uses the dreadful word. 

‘What if Henry is out here with his little terrorist minions?’ Jordyn thought to herself, looking around quickly, scanning the area which, to her luck, was Bower’s-gang-free. The word alone reminded her of Henry, since it was a word he used it so much whenever she was around. 

Then Jordyn got an idea. She wanted to go to his house to see if they were there, and if they were, then she would continue to enjoy her day-out, in peace. She thought it over and made her way down to the Bowers' household.

After almost ten minutes of silent walking, she came to the bully's house. She walked around the edge of it and went to the backyard. She found the four boys lounging in the back. She thanked her lucky stars and turned to walk away as quick as all Hell but their conversation had caught her attention.

"A clown, Belch? A fucking clown?" Henry said, laughing at Belch. They all started laughing.

"I know! It's weird and crazy but I swear it felt so real, and it was fucking scary as all Hell!" Belch explained. Jordyn laughed quietly. 'Belch is scared of clowns? That's fu... hecking rich.' Jordyn felt that she needed to stop swearing so much, it's become such a bad habit that she didn't even see it as a habit anymore. She shook the thought out of her head continued to listen in on their discussion.

"Belch, shut the fuck up," Patrick told him, still chuckling.

"What did the clown look like?" Vic asked, looking genuinely interested in what Belch had to say.

"Well, it had the usual white-paint skin, and red nose, lips, and hair. But its mouth was painted in a way that made it look like his smile reached his ears. And he had like huge fucking head. He also had these yellow eyes and these sharp teeth... ugh, it was so creepy, I don't even wanna talk about it."

'Dreams of clowns? With sharp teeth? And yellow eyes?' She pondered. 'Boys are so weird.' But that reminded Jordyn of something... but she couldn't remember exactly what it reminded her of. While she racked her brain, she looked ahead and noticed something near a tree on the other side of the Bowers' backyard. She squinted her eyes and saw it was a red balloon. It wasn't tied to the tree. It was just floating there. Was she imagining this? She thought she saw the balloon getting closer. Her eyes widened in confusion and then she heard a shout. She turned to where the Bowers' gang was and saw them all looking right at her, and they looked livid.... 'Fuck.'

She felt her heart beating hard in her chest as the realization dawned on her. She's going to die. They'll kill her. They're going to kill her. 

She began to back up and tripped over her feet, landing on her butt. There was a loud 'POP' —that sounded like a balloon popping to be exact—causing the Bowers' gang to look in the direction of the noise.

"What the hell was that?" Henry asked his minions and they all made noises of confusion, not knowing where it came from.

Jordyn looked there too and saw the balloon or whatever the hell it was, it was gone and Jordyn took this as a sign from whoever was above to get the fuck out of there. While they were distracted, she got up and began running as fast as she could. When the boys lost interest in whatever made the noise they turned back to face Jordyn and saw she was gone. They saw that she had already begun running and had entered the woods near Bowers' house.

"You're dead, you stupid n*gger! You hear me?! Dead!" Henry Bowers screamed, chasing after the girl, Patrick, Vic, and Belch quickly following behind.

Jordyn, on the other hand, tore through the woods with a panicked expression, silently thanking Mr. Callahan, her track coach, for making her join Track & Field for the past two years. She would've been dead by now if it wasn't for all the dreaded practices she went through. She had heard what Henry said now and that had fueled her to move quicker. She needed to get to a public place. Quick.

Her feet were pounding against the dirt ground and she soon saw the town. She was breathing heavy when she reached the sidewalk. She had heard their pounding footsteps and knew they were gaining on her. She had run down the sidewalk, careful not to bump into anyone while running and looking behind her.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Jordyn muttered over and over under her breath. Because to hell with trying not to swear, she’s too busy trying to survive .

When she looked behind her for 8 billionth time, she realized only Belch, Henry and Vic were behind her. 'Where's Patrick?' She thought as she ran past an alley. Just then she was yanked into the said alley. She yelped before a hand covered her mouth. She turned her head and saw the missing Bowers' gang member, Patrick, looking down at her with a sadistic smile. 'Shit.' She thrashed against him, trying her hardest to get out of his grip.

"Jordyn, you better stop being a slut and rubbing up against me like that," Patrick whispered in her ear from behind. "You made it very clear that you didn’t like me last time. Have you changed your mind, slut?"

Jordyn shuddered at the memory that began to replay in her mind. She remembered feeling his hands all over her and she remembered vomiting and sobbing. She quickly shook it out of her head, fear taking over and she stopped moving. The rest of the gang had turned the corner when she did. Henry smirked menacingly. 'That's it,' she thought, 'I'm a goner.'

"Nice catch, Patrick." Jordyn began to struggle against Patrick's grip and this made Henry happy. He punched her in the face causing her to groan in pain. Belch was wickedly grinned at her.

"Caught a n*gger peeper," Henry said as he glared at her, grabbing her face and forcing her to look at him. He then proceeded to punch her stomach five times, each punch making it harder for her to breathe. She felt the tears cascading down her face. It hurt so bad. Belch and Vic were cheering him on, while Patrick cackled loudly behind her.

"You like peeping so much? Yeah, you little peeper? Well, peep this, bitch," Jordyn soon felt her stomach get swiftly kicked repeatedly. 'Shit, the bruises there would last weeks,' she thought, praying he wouldn't break her ribs.

Henry slapped her, causing her to stumble a little bit.

"Stop moving, dumb whore!" Patrick said, annoyance lacing his voice. Jordyn's legs gave out, she couldn't stand, she could only focus on the pain that made her body physically throb.

Henry had got in her face, and screaming, "Stay up peeping bitch!" She made eye contact with him and his eyes had caused a surge of anger to rise within her. She felt the iron-metallic taste on her taste buds and spit the blood out onto Henry's face.

Needless to say, he was livid. She was surprised at the size of her own balls. She had literally just signed her death wish. He's actually going to kill her this time.

It was silent as Henry just stared at Jordyn. Patrick, Belch, and Vic were just staring, in complete shock. Vic was the first to react. He grabbed Jordyn out of Patrick's grip and shoved her to the ground, kicking her legs. Belch and Patrick were about to join until Henry stopped them. Vic stopped too.

"To the creek," He simply muttered. Vic grabbed her roughly and threw her on his shoulder twice as rough. The whole way to the creek was a blur to Jordyn, she tried to call out for help but each time received a hard pinch on the backs of her thighs. She knew some people just ignored her because she heard them. 'Those fuckers.'

She tried so much to... at least do something as they began to go down the hill. She was too busy trying to get a sufficient amount of air in her lungs while crying at the pressure being applied to her very badly bruised stomach from Vic's bony ass shoulders. Jordyn had just heard the rushing water when she was unceremoniously dropped on the hard ground. She winced and looked at Henry's ugly face. He was unnervingly calm for someone with a temper like his. Belch and Patrick took her arms and dragged her to the middle of the creek and held her as she struggled in their grips. Henry reached down and shoved her head back down into the water.

They kept her under until her lungs were burning, and she swallowed a mouth full of water. It got in her windpipe causing her cough some more, inhaling more water. Jordyn began to freak out and thrash. They yanked her up and she coughed it right back up. They were laughing at her. She was in pain, humiliated, crying and struggling to breathe. As soon as they heard her coughing become less frequent they brought back under again. She breathed in the water through her nose this time. She was brought back and she was yelling and coughing so hard, she ended up making herself throw up. It was just water, stomach acid and chunks of brownie, but it angered the group of boys tormenting her right now. She was under again and this time, they pulled her out before she had breathed the water in. Jordyn took this chance and let out a scream so loud, she knew her voice would pay for dearly. Belch let go of her to cover his ears and Patrick put his hand over her mouth, muffling her screams.

Henry acted quickly by bringing his fist down to her face and that shut her up. Blood began to trickle from her nose due to the impact and as it seeped down her face, mixing with the river water that coated her face. Jordyn's head lolled backward as she begged for herself to pass out, to be saved, Hell, even die, she didn't give a single damn, she just wanted to pain to stop.

"What a fucking bitch," Belch commented as they all dropped her in the creek. They stood up and Henry got in her face, holding her up by the deathly grip he had on her neck.

"If you ever even look at me, I swear I'll skin you alive. Fucking slut," He shoved her into the water and walked away, after his three goons. Leaving her there. Leaving her in pain, bloody, bruised and crying. They were walking away, like as if what they did wasn't attempted murder. Walking away like... like nothing happened.

Jordyn laid there in the water, shivering and feeling every throb coming from her wounds, cuts, and bruises. She didn't know if she was laying there because she didn't want to get up yet or if she physically couldn't. She knew she should have trusted her gut feeling. She's never, ever going outside now, it's only going out to school from now on.

  ☹

   After laying there for a while, Jordyn lost track of time, she began to feel rain began to drizzle. She moaned in pain and she sat up, looking around. 

Nature was beautiful but her view was cut short as she quickly went down into the water. Jordyn began to freak out. 'I'm alone, I know that for a fact. How was I just pulled under?' She tried to get up but it was something was keeping her from doing so.

Jordyn opened her eyes underwater, she saw orange-red hair. She was just then pulled back up to see just the blur of green from the trees and brought back down. She was terrified. Who was doing this? Was it someone from that racist cult? Jordyn's head was then, abruptly, brought back up, barely having enough time to even take a single breath, and she was shoved back down into the water. This time her head was slammed against the rocks. That was when she started hearing the voices.

'Jordyn...' 

'Come with us, Jordyn...' 

'Come with us...' 

'We float here, Jordyn...' 

'Come float with us, Jordyn...' 

'You can float too' 

'You will float, Jordyn...' 

'You'll float too.' 

'You'll float too!' 

'YOU'LL FLOAT TOO!'

Jordyn came up screaming for air. She gagged and coughed, hunched over, not wanting to get puke on herself, just in case it happened. She then remembered what happened and quickly looked around for whoever was responsible and saw no one. She began to cry, not understanding what had just happened. She was gagging, hiccuping, and sobbing all at the same time. 

'I probably have snot and blood on my face, gross,' she thought to herself. She scooped some water in her hands and rubbed over her face, repeating the action a couple of times until she felt within herself her face had cleaned up a little bit. She decided to stay in the water for a couple more minutes, slowly regaining her breath and trying to comprehend what had happened in her mind.

It had been a while of her just laying in the water, she soon felt a drop fall on her face, and roll down her face, neck and mixed in with the other water on her. Then another drop, another and another. Soon she had realized it began to rain and she decided it was time for her to go home or pneumonia would soon rent a space in her chest and lungs. She got up, climbed up the hill and proceeded to walk home... she never knew what was coming next.

  ☹

   Jordyn was so positive that her bad day was surely over and she could just peacefully yet painfully make her way home. She was wrong. Very wrong. She had been walking home when it happened.

It felt as if the sky had gotten darker with every step she took. The rain was starting to come down heavier with every passing minute. Jordyn had to look up at the sky, hearing the sound of thunder crash above her. 'Well heck,' she thought. 'Better hurry up.'

Jordyn began to jog until she reached the corner of Jackson Street. She stopped to take a breather. She was shivering from her cold and wet clothes that were clinging to her like a second skin and felt some water sloshing around somewhere in her, a shiver ran up her spine at the memory.

She was about to continue on her 'merry' way when she heard a scream. She looked in the direction of the noise and saw a small child in a bright yellow raincoat crawling away from a storm drain. She felt the same dread-feeling in her stomach from this morning and before she could even think of what she was doing, she began to sprint in the direction of the screaming child. She then saw a hand began to reach for the little child... coming from inside the drain.

'What the actual fuck?' This fueled her to go quicker.

Just before the hand wrapped around the kid's green rain boots, Jordyn had quickly scooped the child in her arms and took off down the street. The kid in her arms was screaming in pain and fear. Once in her arms, she realized it was a boy. She turned around to look behind her and saw a red balloon sticking out the sewer. It popped and a creepy laugh rang out through the air.

"You'll float too, Jordyn. Just you wait..." She heard right behind her ear. She whipped around, her grip on the kid getting tighter. At the end of the street was a tall man just down the street. A tall clown? 

The clown was dressed in all white, a red balloon in his hand and fiery red-orange hair which reminded her of what had happened at the creek. Jordyn couldn't make out the clown's specific facial features but she could tell the clown was smiling at them. Its eyes turned on… literally. They were like bright yellow lights, boring into her soul, and leaving an unsettling fear in here that she could feel in her bones. The clown rose its right hand to wave at them, tilting its head to the side in a manner that was way too creepy for her liking.

"What the FUCK is that?!" Jordyn swore loudly, her eyes widened. She turned and sprinted until she knew she was far away from whatever that was. She felt like laying on the ground and just dying right then and there; her ribs were practically screaming at her to stop. 

When Jordyn had reached a random building she put the boy down beside it, away from the public’s eye. She had planned to rest stop to catch her breath and to check on the boy for any injuries. She gasped at the sight of the crying child. The boy had a bloody stump where his right arm was supposed to be. 

'Oh my Lord Jesus...' She looked down at herself and 'lo and behold, her once favorite shorts and shirt were a wet, bloody mess. She looked into the boy's sad brown eyes and her heart ached for the child. She decided to talk to him.

"Hey, little boy, what's your name?" Jordyn asked. He looked unsure but he answered.

"...Georgie."

"Georgie? Okay, you got a last name, Georgie?"

"Georgie Denbrough." That last name seemed very familiar to Jordyn.

"Well Georgie, my name is Jordyn Garcia, I'm gonna take you to the hospital, okay?" Jordyn explained to him and Georgie nodded. "I'm gonna pick you up now? Is that okay?" Georgie nodded again. She scooped him back in her arm, laying his head on her shoulder. She began to run to Derry Union Hospital.

"Georgie, keep talking to me, okay? You cannot, and I repeat, cannot fall asleep on me," she told him, not feeling well with the fact that the child wasn't talking.

"But I'm tired," Georgie muttered near her ear. Shit. She could feel the incoming panic attack but she took a deep breath, knowing she had no time for that at the moment.

"Talk to me, Georgie! Okay? How are you doing? Are you in pain?"

"My arm…" His voice was quivering. Jordyn swore she could feel her heart break for the small child.

"Georgie, I'm so sorry about your arm... Everything will be alright, just hold on for me okay?” Jordyn pleaded and she felt Georgie nod so she spoke up again. “Use your words Georgie.”

“Okay,” Georgie muttered and that was enough for her. Jordyn then decided to speak up once again, something told her that the silence was not a good thing at the moment.

“So, Georgie, um, do you have any friends?" Jordyn tried to make lengthy conversation but she too busy trying to find the quickest way possible to the hospital. Anything to get Georgie to talk worked at the moment.

"Billie!" Bill? Jordyn remembered now! This is George Denbrough, Bill Denbrough's little brother! She was running so quickly and panting so hard, she felt as if her lungs would just give out any moment now. "The boat, he took my boat! Billie’s gonna be so mad!" Georgie continued.

"Who took your boat?" Jordyn asked, already fearing the answer deep within her.

"The bad clown! He took my boat!" Georgie cried, sobbing into her shoulder. She was shushing him, trying to calm the blubbering boy when she turned down the street leading down to the hospital. Jordyn wanted to scream with every step, her ribs were killing her. She didn’t care, she had to keep going. For Georgie. 

She honestly didn't know how it was possible but she ran faster. Something deep within her was telling her she needed to push harder, get there faster, she was running out of time. 

She arrived at the hospital and went into the parking lot of the emergency room. Bursting through the Emergency doors of the hospital, many people turned, wanting to see what had caused the ruckus.

"I need help here! Ma'am, please! He's losing a lot of blood!" Jordyn cried out and ran over to the receptionist, whose eyes were about to pop out of their sockets from how wide they were. She called for help and no more than forty seconds later multiple doctors and nurses burst through some doors. Jordyn quickly ran towards them, handing Georgie to the closest doctor. He was placed on a gurney and wheeled away by the yelling doctors.

"It'll be okay, Georgie! Just hang on!" She called out after them. Breathing hard, ribs throbbing in pain and with tears brimming her eyes, she looked around and saw everyone staring at her. She remembered her bloody appearance and wondered what they thought of her, what they would say to others. 'Yes Becky, the dark-skinned girl was covered in bruises, cuts, sopping wet, had a bloody nose and a bloody shirt and shorts! Burst through the doors, screaming like a banshee! Carrying little Georgie Denbrough, who was missing an ARM, Becky!'  

She awkwardly cleared her throat and walked to the nearest bathroom. She took in her appearance. She looked like trash. She splashed water on her face and dried herself up as best as she could.

When she came out, she was motioned over by the receptionist.

"Is he okay?" Jordyn asked.

"He is in surgery, would you like to wait in the waiting room nearby him?" She asked.

"Please..."

"Room 309A." And with that, she was off to 309A. She took a seat in the chairs provided out there. She got into a comfortable enough position for her bruised ribs and let her foot anxiously bounce. She checked the time. It was 5:09 p.m. 

'Lord, what a long day,' she thought. After seven minutes of sitting quietly, she began to drift off in the seat. Jordyn couldn't stop herself. She was so tired.

She was later forcibly awakened to someone shaking her shoulders.

☹

chapter one is up !!! lemme know what yall think of it ♡

[grantairelibere]

Oh my god I'm in the theatre building at school and like 12 people down the hall are screaming "I dreamed a dream" I Am Home

[dfroza]

the closing of Paul’s Letter of Romans

is Today’s reading for Sunday, february 9 of 2020 that reveals a beautiful mystery kept secret until now:

This wonderful news includes the unveiling of the mystery kept secret from the dawn of creation until now. This mystery is understood through the prophecies of the Scripture and by the decree of the eternal God. And it is now heard openly by all the nations, igniting within them a deep commitment of faith.

(verse 25-26 in chapter 16 in The Passion Translation)

and the whole chapter:

[Paul Sends His Loving Greetings]

Now, let me introduce to you our dear and beloved sister in the faith, Phoebe, a shining minister of the church in Cenchrea. I am sending her with this letter and ask that you shower her with your hospitality when she arrives. Embrace her with honor, as is fitting for one who belongs to the Lord and is set apart for him. I am entrusting her to you, so provide her whatever she may need, for she’s been a great leader and champion for many—I know, for she’s been that for even me!

Give my love to Prisca and Aquila, my partners in ministry serving the Anointed One, Jesus, for they’ve risked their own lives to save mine. I’m so thankful for them, and not just I, but all the congregations among the non-Jewish people respect them for their ministry. Also give my loving greetings to all the believers in their house church.

And greet Epenetus, who was the first convert to Christ in the Roman province of Asia, for I love him dearly.

And give my greetings to Miriam, who has toiled and labored extremely hard to beautify you.

Make sure that my relatives Andronicus and Junia are honored, for they’re my fellow captives who bear the distinctive mark of being outstanding and well-known apostles, and who were joined into the Anointed One before me.

Give my regards to Ampliatus, whom I love, for he is joined into the Lord.

And give my loving greetings to Urbanus, our partner in ministry serving the Anointed One, and also to Stachus, whom I love.

Don’t forget to greet Apelles for me, for he’s been tested and found to be approved by the Anointed One.

And extend warm greetings to all those of Aristobolos’s house church.

Give my love to my relative Herodion, and also to all those of the house church of Narcissus, for they too are joined into the Lord.

Please greet Tryphena and Tryphosa, for they are women who have diligently served the Lord.

To Persis, who is much loved and faithful in her ministry for the Lord, I send my greetings.

And Rufus, for he is especially chosen by the Lord. And I greet his mother, who was like a mother to me.

I cannot forget to mention my esteemed friends Asyncritus, Phlegon, Hermes, Patrobas, Hermas, and all the brothers and sisters who meet with them.

Give my regards to Philologus, Julia, Nereus and his sister, and also Olympas and all the holy believers who meet with them.

Greet each other with a holy kiss of God’s love. All the believers in all the congregations of the Messiah send their greetings to all of you.

[Paul’s Final Instructions]

And now, dear brothers and sisters, I’d like to give one final word of caution: Watch out for those who cause divisions and offenses among you. When they antagonize you by speaking of things that are contrary to the teachings that you’ve received, don’t be caught in their snare!For people like this are not truly serving the Lord, our Messiah, but are being driven by their own desires for a following. Utilizing their smooth words and well-rehearsed blessings, they seek to deceive the hearts of innocent ones.

I’m so happy when I think of you, because everyone knows the testimony of your deep commitment of faith. So I want you to become scholars of all that is good and beautiful, and stay pure and innocent when it comes to evil. And the God of peace will swiftly pound Satan to a pulp under your feet! And the wonderful favor of our Lord Jesus will surround you.

My ministry partner, Timothy, sends his loving greetings, along with Luke, Jason, and Sosipater, my Jewish kinsmen.

(I, Tertius, am the one transcribing this letter for Paul, and I too send my greetings to all of you, as a follower of the Lord.)

My kind host here in Corinth, Gaius, likewise greets you, along with the entire congregation of his house church. Also, the city administrator Erastus and our brother Quartus send their warm greetings.

May the grace and favor of our Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, continually rest upon you all.

[Paul Praises God]

I give all my praises and glory to the one who has more than enough power to make you strong and keep you steadfast through the promises found in the wonderful news that I preach; that is, the proclamation of Jesus, the Anointed One. This wonderful news includes the unveiling of the mystery kept secret from the dawn of creation until now. This mystery is understood through the prophecies of the Scripture and by the decree of the eternal God. And it is now heard openly by all the nations, igniting within them a deep commitment of faith.

Now to God, the only source of wisdom, be glorious praises for endless ages through Jesus, the Anointed One! Amen!

(Paul’s letter was transcribed by Tertius in Corinth and sent from Corinth and carried to Rome by Phoebe.)

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 16 (The Passion Translation)

and repeated in The Message in which many “hellos” are written:

Be sure to welcome our friend Phoebe in the way of the Master, with all the generous hospitality we Christians are famous for. I heartily endorse both her and her work. She’s a key representative of the church at Cenchrea. Help her out in whatever she asks. She deserves anything you can do for her. She’s helped many a person, including me.

Say hello to Priscilla and Aquila, who have worked hand in hand with me in serving Jesus. They once put their lives on the line for me. And I’m not the only one grateful to them. All the non-Jewish gatherings of believers also owe them plenty, to say nothing of the church that meets in their house.

Hello to my dear friend Epenetus. He was the very first follower of Jesus in the province of Asia.

Hello to Mary. What a worker she has turned out to be!

Hello to my cousins Andronicus and Junias. We once shared a jail cell. They were believers in Christ before I was. Both of them are outstanding leaders.

Hello to Ampliatus, my good friend in the family of God.

Hello to Urbanus, our companion in Christ’s work, and my good friend Stachys.

Hello to Apelles, a tried-and-true veteran in following Christ.

Hello to the family of Aristobulus.

Hello to my cousin Herodion.

Hello to those who belong to the Lord from the family of Narcissus.

Hello to Tryphena and Tryphosa—such diligent women in serving the Master.

Hello to Persis, a dear friend and hard worker in Christ.

Hello to Rufus—a good choice by the Master!—and his mother. She has also been a dear mother to me.

Hello to Asyncritus, Phlegon, Hermes, Patrobas, Hermas, and also to all of their families.

Hello to Philologus, Julia, Nereus and his sister, and Olympas—and all the followers of Jesus who live with them.

Holy embraces all around! All the churches of Christ send their warmest greetings!

One final word of counsel, friends. Keep a sharp eye out for those who take bits and pieces of the teaching that you learned and then use them to make trouble. Give these people a wide berth. They have no intention of living for our Master Christ. They’re only in this for what they can get out of it, and aren’t above using pious sweet talk to dupe unsuspecting innocents.

And so while there has never been any question about your honesty in these matters—I couldn’t be more proud of you!—I want you also to be smart, making sure every “good” thing is the real thing. Don’t be gullible in regard to smooth-talking evil. Stay alert like this, and before you know it the God of peace will come down on Satan with both feet, stomping him into the dirt. Enjoy the best of Jesus!

And here are some more greetings from our end. Timothy, my partner in this work, Lucius, and my cousins Jason and Sosipater all said to tell you hello.

I, Tertius, who wrote this letter at Paul’s dictation, send you my personal greetings.

Gaius, who is host here to both me and the whole church, wants to be remembered to you.

Erastus, the city treasurer, and our good friend Quartus send their greetings.

All of our praise rises to the One who is strong enough to make you strong, exactly as preached in Jesus Christ, precisely as revealed in the mystery kept secret for so long but now an open book through the prophetic Scriptures. All the nations of the world can now know the truth and be brought into obedient belief, carrying out the orders of God, who got all this started, down to the very last letter.

All our praise is focused through Jesus on this incomparably wise God! Yes!

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 16 (The Message)

with chapter 13 from the book of Genesis being paired with this in which is seen God’s promise made to Abram:

So Abram left Egypt and went back to the Negev, he and his wife and everything he owned, and Lot still with him. By now Abram was very rich, loaded with cattle and silver and gold.

He moved on from the Negev, camping along the way, to Bethel, the place he had first set up his tent between Bethel and Ai and built his first altar. Abram prayed there to God.

Lot, who was traveling with Abram, was also rich in sheep and cattle and tents. But the land couldn’t support both of them; they had too many possessions. They couldn’t both live there—quarrels broke out between Abram’s shepherds and Lot’s shepherds. The Canaanites and Perizzites were also living on the land at the time.

Abram said to Lot, “Let’s not have fighting between us, between your shepherds and my shepherds. After all, we’re family. Look around. Isn’t there plenty of land out there? Let’s separate. If you go left, I’ll go right; if you go right, I’ll go left.”

Lot looked. He saw the whole plain of the Jordan spread out, well watered (this was before God destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah), like God’s garden, like Egypt, and stretching all the way to Zoar. Lot took the whole plain of the Jordan. Lot set out to the east.

That’s how they came to part company, uncle and nephew. Abram settled in Canaan; Lot settled in the cities of the plain and pitched his tent near Sodom.

The people of Sodom were evil—flagrant sinners against God.

After Lot separated from him, God said to Abram, “Open your eyes, look around. Look north, south, east, and west. Everything you see, the whole land spread out before you, I will give to you and your children forever. I’ll make your descendants like dust—counting your descendants will be as impossible as counting the dust of the Earth. So—on your feet, get moving! Walk through the country, its length and breadth; I’m giving it all to you.”

Abram moved his tent. He went and settled by the Oaks of Mamre in Hebron. There he built an altar to God.

The Book of Genesis, Chapter 13 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Sunday, february 9 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament accompanied by reading from the Psalms and Proverbs

[hgfstreamchats]

Priscilla, Queen of the Desert

Welcome to the 'highglossfinish' room. Zephra85: WOO movie night Knockout: Good evening, Zephra human! Zephra85: Hi Knock Out! Zephra85: Are we watching Pricsilla Queen of the Desert? :D Knock Out: We are indeed! Zephra85: YAY Zephra85: I've only seen it once but it's rad

thenightetc: Oh!  I remember this thenightetc: ...*remembering more things about this* thenightetc: Actually I'm going to have to sit this one out, see you next time Zephra85: Aw, okay. Bye! Knock Out: Not a problem! See you then! Zephra85: Yeesh at my bar the dude would be kicked out and banned for pulling that stunt Knock Out: I can't think of a Cybertronian bar where that would fly. Zephra85: A very fabulous funeral Zephra85: MY FAVE Knock Out: How's the sound situation? Does it need to be turned up? Zephra85: Sounds fine to me Clich: #goals Knock Out: Well, well! This is a pleasant surprise! Knock Out: How goes, dear Sparklebot? Clich: Almost as sparkley as I should be! Or to be more acurrate, as shiney as him. Knock Out: Excellent. Clich: Thank you kindly for asking! Excited to see this. (Again) Zephra85: Pomp and circumstance for all Zephra85: YES THAT'LL HELP THE HEADACHE CLEARLY. Clich: Not ever been to Australia, actually. A bit scared of the wildlife. Zephra85: I'm still convinced the country doesn't exist. Clich: Like the grog. That sounds horrid Ratchet: I wandered back to my tablet at an odd time, didn't I? Knock Out: Yes. Yes, you did. Zephra85: It's an elaborate scam to test how gullible the rest of the world is Zephra85: Hi Ratchet! Ratchet: Hello Clich: Howdy Doc. Clich: Rood. Zephra85: 'Face like a cat's ***' LOST IT Zephra85: Scandalous Clich: Loving the terms of endearment. Zephra85: Work it, ladies Zephra85: You own that shoe dress Mitzi Zephra85: (SNORTS) Zephra85: Boom Zephra85: More tension than most hollywood thrillers Zephra85: I love you Felicia but you deserved that Zephra85: Awww Shockbox: Greetings. Zephra85: Hello! Knock Out: Hello there! Shockbox: What is the title of this piece of human media? Clich: We haven't been introduced but hello there! Zephra85: Priscilla, Queen of the Desert Shockbox: Hello. Zephra85: Look at that train holy crap Zephra85: How'd she even fit that in the bus Zephra85: No road trip movie is complete without the obligatory car trouble plot Knock Out: Naturally. Shockbox: But of course. Clich: Well, it does add to the natural tension of being confined together. Shockbox: .....I was confused, I thought that window in the corner was a part of the movie at first. Shockbox: I may need to pay a little more attention to what is happening. Zephra85: One time Breakdown had a stream and he minimized the window for only a second but it didn't look like that's what happened Zephra85: So a dinosaur just appeared out of nowhere in the movie and it was really confusing for a second Zephra85: But it was just his desktop background Clich: HA Zephra85: We all had a laugh about a dinosaur in Mad Max Shockbox: Ridiculous...But amusing. Knock Out: Impact and I still bring that up during our movie nights. Zephra85: She gets bragging rights for the next millenia for this Knock Out: Too right she does. Shockbox: ...Rude. Zephra85: What do you have against ABBA Bernadette Clich: Too much of good thing, Zephra Zephra85: The only explaination I'll accept Shockbox: ...Where did they get the headpiece from? Shockbox: Headpieces, excuse me. Shockbox: Did they bring all of those clothes with them? Zephra85: Time jump from going back to the bus I'd imagine Zephra85: DIGEREEDOO SOLO Shockbox: ....Did they stop in the middle of the song sequence to dress him up? Zephra85: Yes Shockbox: "Stop the music, this fellow needs to fit our aesthetic." Knock Out: Well, the aesthetic is everything. Shockbox: ....Fair enough. Zephra85: Felicia you are a FREAK Shockbox: What an...../interesting/ story. Shockbox: Hm. Knock Out: I love humans. Shockbox: Such pleasant creatures, they are. Zephra85: Be free, sex-doll kite, BE FREE Zephra85: MY OTHER FAVE Breakdown: Ah! This is a good movie! Zephra85: :D BREAKDOWN Zephra85: HI Shockbox: Greetings. Breakdown: How's it going, kids? Zephra85: Good! Ratchet: I either need to stop walking away or give up, because I am still lost as to what's happening. Shockbox: Same. Knock Out: Hello there, mysterious stranger! Zephra85: Just go with it Clich: *turned away for a moment* WHOA, howdy! Zephra85: Bob is a sweetie Breakdown: Ugh, Hugo. You're so young and innocent. Shockbox: ...She has /quite/ a problem. Zephra85: ikr Shockbox: Ping pong balls? Zephra85: I sing this at karaoke! Zephra85: Awwww bob Shockbox: I don't understand their sense of fashion. Breakdown: It's fabulous. That's all you need to understand. Zephra85: It's meant to be over the top Shockbox: I..../See./ Clich: *points* dats gross. Shockbox: I'm... Zephra85: This movie is a wild ride Shockbox: [Shockwave.exe has crashed.] Zephra85: You really gotta just go with it Zephra85: Bob is a cinnamon roll Breakdown: I like how even the three of them think that Bob is flawless. Zephra85: They've adopted a 60+ mechanic as their own Zephra85: God I love showtunes Knock Out: I love that bus. Zephra85: Priscilla is actually the best character Knock Out: Dear Unicron, what a Cybertronian it would make. Breakdown: Don't. Don't even go there, doc. Clich: Don't rightly know anyone who would take that as their alt mode, but wish I did. Shockbox: Bus modes certainly weren't common in my universe. Zephra85: Priscilla is proof it's not about looks, but about ATTITUDE Shockbox: What attitude would that be? Zephra85: Fabulous. Zephra85: FELICIA WILL NOT BE CONTAINED Shockbox: Oh dear. Zephra85: sh*t Zephra85: PROTECTIVE BOB IS PROTECTIVE Shockbox: He didn't even attempt to fight back on that one. Zephra85: Bernadette'll kick all your @$$es Zephra85: Ikr Zephra85: One hit and he's down Zephra85: I ship them Zephra85: Master of Subtlety, Felicia is not Knock Out: Not in the slightest. Zephra85: She's so supprotive Zephra85: they are ADORABLE Zephra85: :D HERE WE GO Zephra85: YOU UNCULTURED SWINE Zephra85: oh snap Zephra85: psh Knock Out: Well, that's adorable. Breakdown: Where does he keep getting those flowers? Knock Out: Hah! Zephra85: Magical gentleman powers Zephra85: Stop trying so hard sweetie Zephra85: He likes you the way you are Breakdown: You struck gold with that one, Hugo. Zephra85: TIME FOR ABBA Knock Out: YES! Zephra85: Now THIS is an audience who appreciates a stellar performance when it's right in front of them Zephra85: I wish our gay bar had glitter cannons on the ceiling Knock Out: I wish more places had glitter cannons in general. Zephra85: True Shockbox: Well, that was a way to end that. Breakdown: ...We're not getting one installed. Shockbox: It was laggging very hard at the end, my connection isn't very stable at this time of day. What happened? Knock Out: Okay, but just consider. Knock Out: ...I don't know how to finish that sentence. But honestly, glitter cannons. Breakdown: I'm considering the cleanup. If we get one it's going outside. The wildlife would appreciate it. Knock Out: Deal. Zephra85: :D Knock Out: It will stop the monkeys from putting their fingers on the windows. Zephra85: THE SEX DOLL KITE GOT ALL THE WAY TO ASIA Knock Out: Good for you, kite! Shockbox: Hm. Amazing. Knock Out: Well, that was fun! Shockbox: Thank you for the stream, Knock Out. Knock Out: Always a pleasure! Zephra85: Yes, thank-you! Zephra85: Such a fave of mine Knock Out: Have a lovely night, everyone! Zephra85: Although it does remind me to ask you to put 'To Wong Foo Thanks For Everything Julie Newmar' on the eventually list Breakdown: Take care' y'all. Zephra85: Bye Knock Out! Bye Breakdown! Bye everyone! Zephra85: Say hi to Impact for me!

[newstechreviews]

The Simmons children were out past their bedtime. Frederick Simmons, age 11, and his sister Malia, age 8, had walked with their parents and 2-year old sister Nyla to the base of the Manhattan bridge in Brooklyn, where demonstrators were protesting the killing of George Floyd by Minneapolis police officers. Their signs were almost as tall as their bodies; Malia had written “police suck” in her third-grade handwriting on a big sheet of poster board. The siblings wore small masks their mother had ordered especially for them: Frederick’s had baseballs on it, Malia’s featured characters from the movie Trolls.

They were standing roughly thirty feet away from the police line, shyly explaining why they had showed up to protest: “because of racism,” Malia said. “It’s scary,” said Frederick, “but also you have to stand up for yourself.” Nyla, two years old and sitting in a carrier on her father’s chest, held a sign that said “No Justice! No Peace! No racist police!” that was about three times as big as she was.

Then, in a moment, everything changed. Suddenly people were sprinting away from the cops–police had deployed either pepper spray or tear gas, nobody was sure–and the Simmons kids were briefly separated. The family reunited shortly afterwards and the kids were given new instructions: next time they have to run, go towards a wall and not into the crowd, so their parents can find them quickly.

That moment, their mother Kenyatta Reid said later, reflected what it feels like to be black in America: “You think you’re safe and everything’s fine,” she said later, “and then everything comes crumbling down, and you’re getting attacked.”

For many black Americans who flooded the streets of dozens of cities this weekend, the killing of George Floyd was the just the latest indignity in a year marked with increasingly unbearable death and despair. The coronavirus pandemic has disproportionately affected African Americans, who are more likely to contract COVID-19 and more likely to die than their white counterparts; African Americans make up just 12% of the population but account for more than nearly 26% of the COVID-19 cases and nearly 23% of deaths, according to CDC data. One study found that majority-black counties accounted for nearly half of all coronavirus cases and more than 60% of deaths.

The economic impact of the virus and the attempt to combat it has also disproportionately affected black communities: 44% of black Americans say that someone in their household has lost a job or taken a pay cut because of the pandemic, and 73% said they didn’t have a rainy day fund for an emergency, according to Pew. Most of the “essential workers” who risked their lives to keep New York City running are people of color, according to the Comptroller’s office.

On top of all that, a string of killings of black Americans has made the pervasive racial injustice even more acute: Ahmaud Arbery, gunned down by white vigilantes as he jogged in Georgia; Breonna Taylor, an emergency room technician who was shot eight times in her Kentucky home as police executed a no-knock warrant in the middle of the night; and George Floyd, who died after a Minneapolis police officer knelt on his neck for more than eight minutes.

“It’s either COVID is killing us, cops are killing us, the economy is killing us,” says Priscilla Borker, a 31-year old social worker who joined the demonstrations in Brooklyn on Friday. “Every corner that people of color turn, they’re being pushed.”

After months of social distancing to avoid spreading COVID-19, the protests represented a breaking point not just in the fight against racist police violence, but also in the fight against the disease. By gathering in crowds with little chance of social distance, the masked demonstrators risked not just police violence but their own health, all to lend their voices to the chorus demanding an end to racist violence.

“I’m more fearful of a police officer taking my life than I’m afraid of COVID-19,” says Ozzie Lumpkin, a 30-year old sales manager who attended the protest to honor the memory of jogger Ahmaud Arbery. “I look at running as my freedom,” says Lumpkin, who runs 75-100 miles a week. “When he got killed, I felt like a part of my freedom was taken away.”

“You think about the cop who had his knee on Floyd, you think about how America has its knee on people of color,” says Borker. “And so whether we stay home or think about the risk of coming out here in regards to the COVID crisis, either way we’re still being killed. So we don’t mind taking this risk.”

But after protesting for years against police killings of black Americans–Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Philando Castile, and thousands of others–some activists say they feel little has changed. “I know what it is to be called a N*****,” says James Talton, a 32-year old fitness instructor who protested in Brooklyn on Friday. He says he heard stories about his father’s struggles against Southern segregation, and “I feel like I’m still dealing with the same sh*t my dad dealt with.”

For that reason, Talton says, he doesn’t condone looting, but he does understand why angry demonstrators would destroy property. “For us to get the attention that we need, we’ve gotta set things on fire. Because it seems like nobody’s paying attention,” he said. “I’m afraid of living in America, period.”

Movement leaders say that this moment is different: between the health and economic carnage wreaked by Covid-19, the violent police crackdowns of this weekend’s protests, and the President’s tweets calling activists “thugs” and threatening them with “vicious dogs,” racial tensions have escalated to a breaking point.

“There is literally a brewing civil war that is happening,” says Alicia Garza, a leading racial justice organizer and founder of Black Futures Lab who helped coin the phrase “Black Lives Matter.” The militarization of police, the reports of white supremacist agitators infiltrating peaceful protests, and the rise of overt white nationalism have changed the stakes of the fight, Garza says. “White supremacists are now above ground and operating in broad daylight and being encouraged by our President and this White House,” she says.

In that unnervingly real sense, the battle has entered a new phase. “In 2014, people were building and understanding, we were still convincing people of all races that this was an issue,” says Deray McKesson, a civil rights activist and co-founder of Campaign Zero who was one of the most visible demonstrators in Ferguson, Missouri. “Now it’s like, okay people are ready, they know the right and wrong, but they don’t know how to fix it.”

“I’m not having the same conversations about ‘All Lives Matter,’ that’s changed,” says Garza, adding that she now sees far more white allies in the streets than she did in 2013. But even if public sentiment has swung in their direction (particularly among young people,) the official response hasn’t changed. “Where are the officials that have used the opportunity of this protest to announce a political change, to change the rules that keep black people unsafe?” Garza says.

After they reunited, the Simmons family stayed out. Nyla wasn’t crying, and the kids were shaken but not deterred. So they trekked about a mile down the road to the Barclays Center, where activists were continuing to demonstrate. As they walked, Frederick raised his sign up high above his head, letters in elementary-school handwriting spelling out: “Am I next?”

[phooll123]

New top story from Time: ‘America Has Its Knee on People of Color.’ Why George Floyd’s Death Was a Breaking Point

The Simmons children were out past their bedtime. Frederick Simmons, age 11, and his sister Malia, age 8, had walked with their parents and 2-year old sister Nyla to the base of the Manhattan bridge in Brooklyn, where demonstrators were protesting the killing of George Floyd by Minneapolis police officers. Their signs were almost as tall as their bodies; Malia had written “police suck” in her third-grade handwriting on a big sheet of poster board. The siblings wore small masks their mother had ordered especially for them: Frederick’s had baseballs on it, Malia’s featured characters from the movie Trolls.

They were standing roughly thirty feet away from the police line, shyly explaining why they had showed up to protest: “because of racism,” Malia said. “It’s scary,” said Frederick, “but also you have to stand up for yourself.” Nyla, two years old and sitting in a carrier on her father’s chest, held a sign that said “No Justice! No Peace! No racist police!” that was about three times as big as she was.

Then, in a moment, everything changed. Suddenly people were sprinting away from the cops–police had deployed either pepper spray or tear gas, nobody was sure–and the Simmons kids were briefly separated. The family reunited shortly afterwards and the kids were given new instructions: next time they have to run, go towards a wall and not into the crowd, so their parents can find them quickly.

That moment, their mother Kenyatta Reid said later, reflected what it feels like to be black in America: “You think you’re safe and everything’s fine,” she said later, “and then everything comes crumbling down, and you’re getting attacked.”

For many black Americans who flooded the streets of dozens of cities this weekend, the killing of George Floyd was the just the latest indignity in a year marked with increasingly unbearable death and despair. The coronavirus pandemic has disproportionately affected African Americans, who are more likely to contract COVID-19 and more likely to die than their white counterparts; African Americans make up just 12% of the population but account for more than nearly 26% of the COVID-19 cases and nearly 23% of deaths, according to CDC data. One study found that majority-black counties accounted for nearly half of all coronavirus cases and more than 60% of deaths.

The economic impact of the virus and the attempt to combat it has also disproportionately affected black communities: 44% of black Americans say that someone in their household has lost a job or taken a pay cut because of the pandemic, and 73% said they didn’t have a rainy day fund for an emergency, according to Pew. Most of the “essential workers” who risked their lives to keep New York City running are people of color, according to the Comptroller’s office.

On top of all that, a string of killings of black Americans has made the pervasive racial injustice even more acute: Ahmaud Arbery, gunned down by white vigilantes as he jogged in Georgia; Breonna Taylor, an emergency room technician who was shot eight times in her Kentucky home as police executed a no-knock warrant in the middle of the night; and George Floyd, who died after a Minneapolis police officer knelt on his neck for more than eight minutes.

“It’s either COVID is killing us, cops are killing us, the economy is killing us,” says Priscilla Borker, a 31-year old social worker who joined the demonstrations in Brooklyn on Friday. “Every corner that people of color turn, they’re being pushed.”

After months of social distancing to avoid spreading COVID-19, the protests represented a breaking point not just in the fight against racist police violence, but also in the fight against the disease. By gathering in crowds with little chance of social distance, the masked demonstrators risked not just police violence but their own health, all to lend their voices to the chorus demanding an end to racist violence.

“I’m more fearful of a police officer taking my life than I’m afraid of COVID-19,” says Ozzie Lumpkin, a 30-year old sales manager who attended the protest to honor the memory of jogger Ahmaud Arbery. “I look at running as my freedom,” says Lumpkin, who runs 75-100 miles a week. “When he got killed, I felt like a part of my freedom was taken away.”

“You think about the cop who had his knee on Floyd, you think about how America has its knee on people of color,” says Borker. “And so whether we stay home or think about the risk of coming out here in regards to the COVID crisis, either way we’re still being killed. So we don’t mind taking this risk.”

But after protesting for years against police killings of black Americans–Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Philando Castile, and thousands of others–some activists say they feel little has changed. “I know what it is to be called a N*****,” says James Talton, a 32-year old fitness instructor who protested in Brooklyn on Friday. He says he heard stories about his father’s struggles against Southern segregation, and “I feel like I’m still dealing with the same sh*t my dad dealt with.”

For that reason, Talton says, he doesn’t condone looting, but he does understand why angry demonstrators would destroy property. “For us to get the attention that we need, we’ve gotta set things on fire. Because it seems like nobody’s paying attention,” he said. “I’m afraid of living in America, period.”

Movement leaders say that this moment is different: between the health and economic carnage wreaked by Covid-19, the violent police crackdowns of this weekend’s protests, and the President’s tweets calling activists “thugs” and threatening them with “vicious dogs,” racial tensions have escalated to a breaking point.

“There is literally a brewing civil war that is happening,” says Alicia Garza, a leading racial justice organizer and founder of Black Futures Lab who helped coin the phrase “Black Lives Matter.” The militarization of police, the reports of white supremacist agitators infiltrating peaceful protests, and the rise of overt white nationalism have changed the stakes of the fight, Garza says. “White supremacists are now above ground and operating in broad daylight and being encouraged by our President and this White House,” she says.

In that unnervingly real sense, the battle has entered a new phase. “In 2014, people were building and understanding, we were still convincing people of all races that this was an issue,” says Deray McKesson, a civil rights activist and co-founder of Campaign Zero who was one of the most visible demonstrators in Ferguson, Missouri. “Now it’s like, okay people are ready, they know the right and wrong, but they don’t know how to fix it.”

“I’m not having the same conversations about ‘All Lives Matter,’ that’s changed,” says Garza, adding that she now sees far more white allies in the streets than she did in 2013. But even if public sentiment has swung in their direction (particularly among young people,) the official response hasn’t changed. “Where are the officials that have used the opportunity of this protest to announce a political change, to change the rules that keep black people unsafe?” Garza says.

After they reunited, the Simmons family stayed out. Nyla wasn’t crying, and the kids were shaken but not deterred. So they trekked about a mile down the road to the Barclays Center, where activists were continuing to demonstrate. As they walked, Frederick raised his sign up high above his head, letters in elementary-school handwriting spelling out: “Am I next?”

via Blogger https://ift.tt/3gQcpmW

[perihelionicarus]

There was loud banging noises and yelling and dogs outside and there's like 5 police cars what is going on I'm small scared and trying to study for my exam

[viralnewstime]

The Simmons children were out past their bedtime. Frederick Simmons, age 11, and his sister Malia, age 8, had walked with their parents and 2-year old sister Nyla to the base of the Manhattan bridge in Brooklyn, where demonstrators were protesting the killing of George Floyd by Minneapolis police officers. Their signs were almost as tall as their bodies; Malia had written “police suck” in her third-grade handwriting on a big sheet of poster board. The siblings wore small masks their mother had ordered especially for them: Frederick’s had baseballs on it, Malia’s featured characters from the movie Trolls.

They were standing roughly thirty feet away from the police line, shyly explaining why they had showed up to protest: “because of racism,” Malia said. “It’s scary,” said Frederick, “but also you have to stand up for yourself.” Nyla, two years old and sitting in a carrier on her father’s chest, held a sign that said “No Justice! No Peace! No racist police!” that was about three times as big as she was.

Then, in a moment, everything changed. Suddenly people were sprinting away from the cops–police had deployed either pepper spray or tear gas, nobody was sure–and the Simmons kids were briefly separated. The family reunited shortly afterwards and the kids were given new instructions: next time they have to run, go towards a wall and not into the crowd, so their parents can find them quickly.

That moment, their mother Kenyatta Reid said later, reflected what it feels like to be black in America: “You think you’re safe and everything’s fine,” she said later, “and then everything comes crumbling down, and you’re getting attacked.”

For many black Americans who flooded the streets of dozens of cities this weekend, the killing of George Floyd was the just the latest indignity in a year marked with increasingly unbearable death and despair. The coronavirus pandemic has disproportionately affected African Americans, who are more likely to contract COVID-19 and more likely to die than their white counterparts; African Americans make up just 12% of the population but account for more than nearly 26% of the COVID-19 cases and nearly 23% of deaths, according to CDC data. One study found that majority-black counties accounted for nearly half of all coronavirus cases and more than 60% of deaths.

The economic impact of the virus and the attempt to combat it has also disproportionately affected black communities: 44% of black Americans say that someone in their household has lost a job or taken a pay cut because of the pandemic, and 73% said they didn’t have a rainy day fund for an emergency, according to Pew. Most of the “essential workers” who risked their lives to keep New York City running are people of color, according to the Comptroller’s office.

On top of all that, a string of killings of black Americans has made the pervasive racial injustice even more acute: Ahmaud Arbery, gunned down by white vigilantes as he jogged in Georgia; Breonna Taylor, an emergency room technician who was shot eight times in her Kentucky home as police executed a no-knock warrant in the middle of the night; and George Floyd, who died after a Minneapolis police officer knelt on his neck for more than eight minutes.

“It’s either COVID is killing us, cops are killing us, the economy is killing us,” says Priscilla Borker, a 31-year old social worker who joined the demonstrations in Brooklyn on Friday. “Every corner that people of color turn, they’re being pushed.”

After months of social distancing to avoid spreading COVID-19, the protests represented a breaking point not just in the fight against racist police violence, but also in the fight against the disease. By gathering in crowds with little chance of social distance, the masked demonstrators risked not just police violence but their own health, all to lend their voices to the chorus demanding an end to racist violence.

“I’m more fearful of a police officer taking my life than I’m afraid of COVID-19,” says Ozzie Lumpkin, a 30-year old sales manager who attended the protest to honor the memory of jogger Ahmaud Arbery. “I look at running as my freedom,” says Lumpkin, who runs 75-100 miles a week. “When he got killed, I felt like a part of my freedom was taken away.”

“You think about the cop who had his knee on Floyd, you think about how America has its knee on people of color,” says Borker. “And so whether we stay home or think about the risk of coming out here in regards to the COVID crisis, either way we’re still being killed. So we don’t mind taking this risk.”

But after protesting for years against police killings of black Americans–Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Philando Castile, and thousands of others–some activists say they feel little has changed. “I know what it is to be called a N*****,” says James Talton, a 32-year old fitness instructor who protested in Brooklyn on Friday. He says he heard stories about his father’s struggles against Southern segregation, and “I feel like I’m still dealing with the same sh*t my dad dealt with.”

For that reason, Talton says, he doesn’t condone looting, but he does understand why angry demonstrators would destroy property. “For us to get the attention that we need, we’ve gotta set things on fire. Because it seems like nobody’s paying attention,” he said. “I’m afraid of living in America, period.”

Movement leaders say that this moment is different: between the health and economic carnage wreaked by Covid-19, the violent police crackdowns of this weekend’s protests, and the President’s tweets calling activists “thugs” and threatening them with “vicious dogs,” racial tensions have escalated to a breaking point.

“There is literally a brewing civil war that is happening,” says Alicia Garza, a leading racial justice organizer and founder of Black Futures Lab who helped coin the phrase “Black Lives Matter.” The militarization of police, the reports of white supremacist agitators infiltrating peaceful protests, and the rise of overt white nationalism have changed the stakes of the fight, Garza says. “White supremacists are now above ground and operating in broad daylight and being encouraged by our President and this White House,” she says.

In that unnervingly real sense, the battle has entered a new phase. “In 2014, people were building and understanding, we were still convincing people of all races that this was an issue,” says Deray McKesson, a civil rights activist and co-founder of Campaign Zero who was one of the most visible demonstrators in Ferguson, Missouri. “Now it’s like, okay people are ready, they know the right and wrong, but they don’t know how to fix it.”

“I’m not having the same conversations about ‘All Lives Matter,’ that’s changed,” says Garza, adding that she now sees far more white allies in the streets than she did in 2013. But even if public sentiment has swung in their direction (particularly among young people,) the official response hasn’t changed. “Where are the officials that have used the opportunity of this protest to announce a political change, to change the rules that keep black people unsafe?” Garza says.

After they reunited, the Simmons family stayed out. Nyla wasn’t crying, and the kids were shaken but not deterred. So they trekked about a mile down the road to the Barclays Center, where activists were continuing to demonstrate. As they walked, Frederick raised his sign up high above his head, letters in elementary-school handwriting spelling out: “Am I next?”

[perihelionicarus]

[perihelionicarus]

Me, looking at the lack of feedback on any of my cosplay shit on IG: so like am I unattractive or do I just suck at makeup or am I flying under the radar or am I bad at taking selfies or am I really just unattractive