#the shades after she gets pulled into other ghost shit but its like 3-4 years after the events of the books and she's just spent that time

[bitchthefuck1]

I feel like everybody has at least one highly specific AU that just rotates in their brain 24/7 like a rotisserie chicken

[planetsxend]

“Moist”

@sweettifalockhart issued the writing challenge: moist.  I posted a snippet so I’d stay on track, and hell did I stay on track.  Probably OOC in places, but that hasn’t stopped me writing before :P Reno/Tifa below the cut, set very loosely in the tie between OG/Remake & AC

1 year, 4 months, 2 weeks, 3 days after The Plate

“- and then she threw me out the bar!  Literally threw me.  How is that even possible?”

“... It’s Tifa,” Rude says, as if that explains everything from gravity’s pull to the magic show of pigs suddenly sprouting wings and taking to the sky (although that wouldn’t be magic so much as fucking freaky who has the alien head this time?).  “Would’ve paid for a video,” his partner’s quiet addition, the bare bones of a smirk flirting with his mouth and Reno well - he can’t let that one go unchallenged.  The bastard doesn’t even startle when the elastic band pings off his shades.  Hmmph.

He grumbles some more, under his breath, and he’s well-versed in the feeling of eyes on him, knows Rude’s picked up on the fact he’s legitimately out of sorts with this recent development.  Knows that behind those shades, Rude’s staring at him, measuring the weight of each word on his tongue before lending voice to it.

“Either start talking or start writing.  This paperwork isn’t going to finish itself.”

“There’re memories in that bar,” Reno replies, the last he’ll say on the matter simply because it covers the entirety of his discomfiture.

~ ~ ~

7 months, 3 days after The Plate

It’s the first he’s properly laid eyes on her since... since The Plate and he slinks in like a cat on the scavenge, well aware there’s a dispute in his very near future the further in he goes, vividly aware he’s out of his depth.  He’s still got a sharp smart in his ribs to prove just how hard she punches on a bad day.  But here, now, on her turf?  Where every territorial instinct she has will be on red alert the second she clocks him?  Where every protective instinct will kick into high gear the second she recognises a threat?  He’s gonna wind up with his face smashed in and a couple teeth knocked loose and he’ll probably roll over and thank her for it after.

Better than the guilt gnawing him open from the inside out, right?

Sure enough, he’s not even singled out the quietest corner when she spots him, and because he keeps bouncing between where to sit and where’s the danger, he sees it.  The smile for her patrons vanishes so fast he might as well have smacked it off her, face settling into an expression carved from stone.  Empty.  Blank.  Carefully so, but she can’t do shit about her eyes.  They burn, even as her spine snaps straight and her chin lifts just so.

A challenge he doesn’t meet.  A challenge he can’t back down from, either.  His own issued when he approaches her directly, well and truly in the lion’s den.

“What do you want?”  She spits, and if words were acid he’d be stripped to the bone in seconds.  A lesser man would flinch, and a smarter man would leave, but neither man is him and so he slaps on a smirk and replies cool as Shiva’s kiss - he’d like a drink, if you please.  He sure as shit doesn’t imagine the creak of leather around her fists, but she’s a gracious host, and everyone’s welcome in Seventh Heaven, she can’t go around denying customers willy nilly without consequences.

He’s actually surprised when he survives that first drink, never mind the entire goddamn night.

7 months, 2 weeks, 5 days after The Plate

It’s almost a game between them a few weeks later, this animosity.  Every night he intrudes on her space and every night she’ll hiss at him like she’s ready to claw his face off.  Sometimes he’ll get blackout drunk and someone has the decency to phone Rude to cart his ass back home, sometimes he doesn’t and he’ll nurse one drink the entire night, every second under the same roof as her an agony.  When will she do it, he wonders.  When will she snap?  When will that practised calm give out in favour of confronting him?  Just what the fuck is it gonna take?

He’s not drunk tonight, just on the wrong side of tipsy, weaving one way on his stool then jerking centre and weaving the other.  Loose-lipped, too, if anyone thought to talk to him, but the suit keeps most folk at a respectable distance.  She comes at him when most of the regulars clear out and over the blast of the jukebox he thinks fuckin’ finally.

‘Cept she slams a glass of water down in front of him, sloshes some of it over his hand for good measure.  And while he swears and trips over his own tongue and waves his hand around and wipes it down with the stupid fuckin’ square Tseng always insists on cramming into his breast pocket, she parks her ass down opposite him, and jams both elbows down on the table.  There’s no warning creak this time, because her hands are bare of their usual gloves, and the fire in her eyes isn’t quite so bright tonight.

The hell?

“Why do you keep coming here, Reno?”  She asks, and if anything should catch him off guard maybe it should be that she remembers his name.  Instead, it’s her tone, the tired quality to it curling ‘round the words and robbing them of the caustic bite she usually keeps in reserve all for him.  Like she’s as weary to the bone as he is.  Like she’s beaten down and wrung out and barely hanging on by the tips of her fingers.

Like maybe - just maybe - she’s in the same boat as him.

You got snarlin’ little beasties crawling around in your head, too?

But he doesn’t ask that, it’s early days yet, right?  She’s more liable to smash the glass on his head and jab him in the eye with one of the resulting pointy bits, right?  So he looks at her instead, fighter-turned-bartender, damaged soul under all that easy charm, and lets his own trademark smirk fall just a little.  Just enough to clue her in on his little secret - I know the taste of regret, and it sure is bitter.

“To drink.  To forget.”

~ ~ ~

It doesn’t make things right between them, not by a long shot.  But the water’s her white flag, and his truth an apology.  It’s a step in some direction, maybe not the right one.

9 months, 1 week after The Plate

She asks him about it eventually, just like he knew she would.  She’s a blunt woman, Tifa, when it comes down to the nitty gritty details.  Her patience has its limits and beating around the bush as they are, tolerating one another as they are... something has to give somewhere.  So she asks him.  About it.  About The Plate.

Such a simple question, really.  Do you regret it?

Does he have an answer for it?  Oh sure, he has an answer alright.  Yes.  Yes he regrets it, every damn time he thinks about it his stomach curdles and his skin goes clammy.  So many questions circling his head ‘til he’s dizzy: was it necessary?  Was it worth it?  How many died?  How many people suffered - trapped under crushing weight, their last moments ones of terror and darkness and indescribable pain?  How many begged for help on their last breath?  How many stretched out broken hands in the hope someone beyond the rubble would grab on and help them free?  How many people ripped apart?  How many families struck from the census records in one fell swoop?  What were their names?  Their ages?  How many kids died that night?

“Yeah,” he says instead, voice wavering under all that strain locked up inside his skull, queasy and not from the food he’d ordered (still not poisoned, she’s out of her goddamn mind).  He doesn’t know what he looks like in that moment - can’t stand to look in mirrors much these days except to scrape the scruff off his chops in the morning - but she does.  Tifa looks at him then and sees whatever he can’t smother, standard Turk mask of indifference be damned, and a switch flips between them.  Animosity to understanding.

There should be surprise when she closes the bar early, promising discounts for the inconvenience, when she sets a bottle of hard liquor by his plate... and two glasses.  Instead he musters up the ghost of a smile and leans back - almost makes an ass of himself toppling right over, but hey, the reflexes have saved him from worse (like Strife’s sword) - daring to drag his eyes from her face to her waist and back up again.  “Come to confess to the big bad wolf, doll?”

“Eat a dick, Turk,” she snaps back and twists the cap open, sealing their fate.

~ ~ ~

“We, I, killed people, too... when we... blew up the Reactors.  Maybe not... maybe not every life lost was immediate but... the riots, the robberies, the people dying at home because their heating went out and never came back on again.  I don’t know how many deaths can be traced back to my hands.”

“That’s not the same as-”

“Does the how really matter, Reno?  People died.  By our actions.  By our choices.  That is the burden we bear.”

~ ~ ~

He comes awake the following morning to the unforgiving thump of a combat boot in the ribs, and bright sunlight stabbing a thousand daggers into his eyeballs, and a behemoth using his head as a chew toy.  It’s Strife above him, hands on the table he’s shoved aside to get to him, baby blues gone dark and thunderous and hell if that ain’t a safe wake-up call.  From his left somewhere a pitiful moan as Tifa rouses, and Murder Face turns his attention elsewhere, moves in her direction, giving Reno just enough space to try and get his legs under him.  Where are his legs again?  His - where the fuck’s his shoe?

“What did you do this time?”  Rude asks the second the call connects as he trips his way out the bar, and all Reno can manage without upsetting his entire lack of balance is a raspy laugh and cradling his head in his free hand.

“Made a mess, prob’ly.”

11 months, 1 week, 4 days after The Plate

“Are you asking me out?”  Really, she doesn’t need to look so suspicious.  What’s he gonna do, chuck her in a chopper and fly her across the continent?  Avalanche’d kill him deader than dead in two seconds flat.  Still, she’s not exactly wrong, which.  Yeah, okay, this isn’t one of his better ideas by far but.  Hm.

“No?  Figured it’d be a better bonding experience if we had a chat while stone cold sober, is all.  You like coffee?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Tseng.”

Call him crazy, but her laugh sounds less hollow than he’s ever heard it.

~ ~ ~

Marlene nails him in the back of the hand with a fork and Denzel gets melon juice all down his shirt.  Accidental his ass.

At least Strife is upfront with his threats of bodily harm if he breaks Tifa’s heart.

1 year, 2 months, 3 weeks after The Plate

The next time they wind up under what he’s dubbed their table, alcohol has absolutely nothing to do with it...  Well.  Except for the sticky residue he can taste on her fingers.

He has enough common sense to make sure they drag their asses upstairs and to her bedroom before dawn.  Enhanced senses must suck balls, though, because when Strife drops by the following afternoon he doesn’t even bat an eye at Reno’s perch at the bar (munching away at the remnants of a fruit salad the brats didn’t take to school), but he does when he gets closer and breathes.  His nose scrunches up as he sniffs in Reno’s direction like a dog - or that snarling wolf emblem he’s so fond of slapping on anything he can get his hands on - and darts those baby blues between his shit-eating grin and Tifa raised brow.  Try me, that look says, complete with the casual gathering of her hair into a high ponytail, the flex of her fingers after it.  Do they smell of each other, then?  How cute.

“... I don’t even wanna know,” Strife eventually says, and Reno laughs.

1 year, 4 months, 2 weeks, 3 days after The Plate

The punch she lands smack on his left pectoral is a love tap compared to what she’s capable of, and instead of the fire he’s half-expecting there’s... mischief in her gaze.

“Tifa -”

“Never say that word in my bar again, Reno, or I’ll ban you permanently.”

“Yes Ma’am, lesson learned.”

“I might even ban Rufus, too.  Make sure the lesson really sticks.”

“Aw naw, c’mon!  That’s hitting below the belt!”

“Please.  We both know you’d be sobbing on the floor if I did that.”

He pouts (she does have a point).  Tifa laughs.  It’s fast becoming his most favourite sound in the world.

[in-madhouses]

i dont mean to bother you but can you link me to the epilogue of your fic ‘they’ll hang us in the louvre” i absolutely have adored reading and im happy i stumbled across your blogs and fics and i cant wait to read more!

HELLO! NO BOTHER AT ALL. Life has just gotten in the way a little and I’ve been absolutely trash about updating. But here’s the epilogue for louvre for those who are actually still out there reading things I post  😭😭😭

.

“So what can you tell us about the Marauders film coming out in a couple of weeks?” The excited host asks with a little glint in his eye, as though he’s asking something he already knows the answer to.

“I.. I can tell you what I don’t know, which is everything,” Aahna deflects instead with a bit of a blush staining her cheeks.

Niall forces to keep a straight face at the sight of her on the screen, slightly squirmish but totally acing it.

Despite being high key in the interview spotlight (on and off) for well over two years by now, he can never get over the fact that Aahna confident to the point of arrogance Deakins doesn’t do very well with interviews.

For all intents and purposes, she does just fine. She carries her confidence like a shield and her charm simply radiates onto the screen. But after being intimately acquainted with her and her idiosyncrasies for a better part of a year, her slight awkwardness is evident. Especially when it’s on red couches and with interviewers that she binge watches on a regular.

“You have to know something!” Graham presses on.

“They didn’t exactly… I mean, at this point I know more about how nuclear reactors work than I do about the Marauders movie,” Aahna says casually.

“Are you saying you haven’t watched it or that you’re surprisingly well educated about nuclear reactors?”

“Both?” She laughs.

And Niall knows she’s not lying, she’d looked it up the week before and spent her night explaining to him it how it worked in detail.

The flamboyant host presses on, “Do you even know if you’re in it at all?”

“I don’t… I… I’m not sure,” she stutters a little before chuckling.

The petite host all but practically screeches at that, “You’re not sure?”

“Is it because they don’t trust you to keep things off social media?”

“Pretty much,” Aahna nods, her grin wide and bashful at the same time, “I wasn’t exactly given a script. Everyone on the principal cast knew what was going on, they literally jumped straight into filming after the last season but I was only given the scenes that I was in, and mid-way through production, so I could be a ghost, a memory, a spell-induced hallucination, I’m possibly not even in the movie at all.”

Niall smiles to no one in particular, somewhat proud how well she’s fending despite the multitude of complicated factors surrounding the interview;

a) the possibility of letting too much about the movie slip and therefore violating her NDA, his NDA, and everyone’s NDA basically because she only knows as much as she knows because they’d told her,

b) the possibility of not talking about the movie enough which would cause the audience to be less excited about the boys being on the show in the following week,

c) the fact that she’s not actually on The Graham Norton Show to promote the Marauders movie but the new season of her own show, and of course,

d) the possibility of deflecting everything far too much and then having to maneuver questions about their relationship status which was a newly hot topic of much speculation.

Despite them not even trying to be sneaky about things after the completion of Marauders: The Final Chapter, the internet stayed unsuspectingly calm.

Apart from that one grainy low quality images of them having dinner surfacing on a fan blog, they’ve actually managed to evade the full force of rumours and speculation with Aahna busy with season two of her show and Niall preoccupied piecing together the parts for his own expansion of title from just ‘actor’ to ‘actor slash screenwriter slash director.’

It only unexpectedly comes to a head when Aahna tweets one of the March Madness bracket charts comparing the fictional men on television by replacing every name with Remus Lupin.

Twitter, as it does, promptly loses its shit over it.

@itsAahna

Fixed the chart for you 🙃 @BBCOne

@BBCOne

Wow what were even doing before you came along? @itsAahna

@itsAahna

Sleeping on Remus Lupin, clearly @BBCOne

@drowningg-in-deniall

can @itsAahna and @NiallOfficial just get together already i want peace 😭

@mishchiefnmayhem

OTPOTPOTPOTPOTP #drowningindeniall

@moooony

I WILL REVOLT #wandsattheready #drowningindeniall @MaraudersMovie

@padsnprongs

I mean we all know #jily is endgame in the movie but i want to see @itsAahna and @NiallOfficial IRL #drowningindeniall

@NikkiSwiftCeleb

If this doesn’t change your opinion on the “friendship” between @itsAahna and @NiallOfficial nothing will.

@PerezHilton

Can we say we called it first? @itsAahna and @NiallOfficial

@EW

@MaraudersMovie exclusive. The cast weigh in on the new fave will they won’t they couple and THAT tweet >> bit.ly/Jh8e3rd4

Niall was back in Ireland when it happens, but his Twitter blows up with fans asking if they really are dating. Oddly, none of the guys or any of the Marauders’ cast members pester him about it. Probably because they think that Aahna’s contractually obligated to keep the conversation on the upcoming Marauders movie, but keeping their sexual relationship turned actual relationship a secret for months on end is surprisingly easy when your friends aren’t being complete nosy fucks.

The only person who truly suspected anything had Caroline, and even then, she’d only thought they were having hate sex to fix all their problems. (Not like she was wrong.) But when they decided to come clean when they wrapped filming with a round of drinks, they find out that there’d been a betting pool going on in regards to their relationship instead.

“I had a tenner riding on this,” Louis says, swaying a little after his umpteenth shot, “I still can’t believe the two of you didn’t get together before the movie wrapped!”

Niall and Aahna share a look at that, but before either of them can let the cat out of the bag, Louis then goes off on how no one but Harry expected them all to become friends and how this lead to them all losing money to Harry and they telepathically decide against telling their friends. (Seems only fair, since their friends were all proving to be complete pricks.)

Which only brings things to their current conundrum of having to promote a movie whilst making use of their fan favourite characters’ practically non-existent romance while some fans were emotionally invested in the actors’ very secret but very real romance.

He smiles at the thought. Because he likes to tell people that he was in love once, back in Ireland. But he didn’t really fall in love, fall in love. Not really. It was more of a familiarity. Like one day something that was there all along that just… became love. And it’s entirely the opposite of what happened with Aahna. Before he was even fully aware of what was happening, she was just… all over his life. Everywhere. Like someone poured her over every inch of him and she just seeped into the very fabric of his life and he can’t wash her out no matter how much bleach he used.

The on screen conversation shifts to the other guests for a bit focusing on the projects they qere involved in, but when the host with the big red couch says he has some tweets to pull out circling back to her, Niall could see the subtle signs of panic creep in on her face.

“Lips were obviously sealed quite tightly when you got cast for the backdoor pilot on Marauders, but an incident got leaked to the press didn’t it?”

“Wait, is this the video?” Aahna asks realisation dawned upon her.

“These were the tweets following that video that most people seem to have forgotten about.”

“Something that you won’t let happen, obviously,” Aahna comments good humouredly, mentally bracing herself for whatever the Graham Norton team has managed to dig up on the interwebs.

“Obviously,” the host announces as they move their attention to the screen on set, “Now these tweets are, I believe, the immediate aftermath of the video hitting the internet.”

@NiallOfficial

4 yrs on a top rated tv show only to end up sharing scentime with someone who got famous lookng gd in thr underwear

@NiallOfficial

that’s not me throwing shade at modesl that’s me throwing shade at @itsAahna

@NiallOfficial

it’s really not my fault that @itsAahna finds memorising lines harder than slupring tequila off her girlfriend’s belly button

@itsAahna

are YOU slurping tequila off of your girlfriend’s belly button right now? @NiallOfficial

@itsAahna

lol kidding (what girlfriend) 😂 @NiallOfficial

@NiallOfficial

at least i’m not about to send in a sex tape to @DailyMirror to distract people from how i cant act atall

@itsAahna

if you wanted to make a sex tape all you had to do was ask @NiallOfficial

“And this went on for like a whole hour at 3 in the morning,” Graham titters excitedly as he continues scrolling through the seemingly endless barrage of tweets.

“They do say that the best relationships start from heated online arguments,” Aahna shrugs, a smile dangling coyly on the edge of her lips.

Niall’s heart skips a whole beat at that.

But luckily, no one on the red couch seemed to have given it as much thought and they glide by the whole topic unsuspectingly.

“I mean, at one point you weren’t even typing words!” The host exclaims, still scrolling through tweets.

“No, you have to say it really fast, it’s… it’s a joke on the Irish accent, I was making fun of his accent,” Aahna admits, looking a little pink in the cheeks in embarrassment and nerves.

She then does an (in his opinion, piss poor) impression of his Irish accent.

Niall can’t help it though, his smile is still so wide, he’s at risk of his face splitting in half.

“You might as well have insulted potatoes,” Graham responds, rather aghast at her impersonation.

“Or Guinness, the Irishman is rather fond of his Guinness,” Ines chimes in.

The rest of the interview goes on with attention bouncing back and forth between the guests and before he notices it, the musical guest comes on and the credits are rolling. He does his best to pretend to be upset when she breezes into his apartment like it’s hers the next day (although to be honest, it’s all hers really; his apartment, his mind, his soul, his heart).

“That’s your best impersonation of me?” He tuts, faking being insulted so hard he wonders how he was ever employed as an actor.

She, in turn, does a very poor job of not smiling as she sets down boxes of takeaway in his kitchen, “Seeing as that was the dumbest I’ve ever looked on telly, I think it was pretty on.”

He grins, “You were great.”

“I can see why you need glasses,” she raises a brow at his direction.

Niall merely shakes his head at that. It’s a quarter past four and the gang should be at his place in about an hour because everyone unanimously decided that he needed to host a party to celebrate his script selling and the studio wanting him to direct and she’s doing the dishes because ‘only losers eat out of takeaway boxes at a party’ and he can’t stop staring.

She looks up and finds him sort of looking at her weird.

“What?”

You, he thinks, I’m looking at you. I’m always looking at you.

“You know this is probably what Sierra meant,” he points out, a little breathless over absolutely nothing, “About distractions.”

She links her hands behind his neck, feigning ignorance, “No idea what you mean.”

And then he’s kissing her against the overflowing sink and she’s laughing, and he thinks it tastes better than anything in his whole atmosphere.

And honestly, Niall is pretty sure he could live off of that feeling for the rest of his life.

@Harry_Styles

I don’t mean to alarm anyone but I think @itsAahna and @NiallOfficial are legitimately dating.

@AinsWills

BETRAYAL!! DECEPTION!! OUTRAGE!! @itsAahna @NiallOfficial

@LeeyumPain

Pics or it didn’t happen @Harry_Styles

@itsAahna

DELETE. NOW. @Harry_Styles

@Louis_Tomlinson

SSSADFGDSASDFGDSADFSF

@Louis_Tomlinson

#DROWNINGINDENIALL @itsAahna @NiallOfficial

@Louis_Tomlinson

#AAHNAANDNIALLERSITTINGONATREE @itsAahna @NiallOfficial

@itsAahna

Stop yelling or I s2g I’m coming over there and choking you @Louis_Tomlinson

@Louis_Tomlinson

Kinky. I take it @NiallOfficial likes it rough?

@NiallOfficial

@Louis_Tomlinson keep your kinks to yourself. yes this is me kinkshaming you

@itsAahna

There are children on the interwebs!! @Louis_Tomlinson @NiallOfficial

@Louis_Tomlinson

Kinkshaming is my kink @NiallOfficial 😉

@Louis_Tomlinson

Kids, kinkshaming is bad

@NiallOfficial

jokes on you kinkshaming kinkshames is my kink @Louis_Tomlinson

@AinsWills

Caaaaan we bring it back to the betrayal bit @NiallOfficial

@C_Davies

Yes. In case you’re all wondering, the @MaraudersMovie cast has a betting pool on @itsAahna and @NiallOfficial

@C_Davies

And I want my money back @Harry_Styles

@itsAahna

Et tu @C_Davies? Et tu??

@Harry_Styles

None of that 👆 was a ‘yes, we’re dating’ @C_Davies

@itsAahna  

I’m blocking all of yous. @Harry_Styles @Louis_Tomlinson @LeeyumPain @C_Davies @AinsWills

@NiallOfficial

Yes, we’re dating 🙃

@itsAahna

BLOCKEDDDD @NiallOfficial 😡😡😡

@zaynmalik retweeted @AinsWils

BETRAYAL!! DECEPTION!! OUTRAGE!! @itsAahna @NiallOfficial

@itsAahna  

Okay internet (and former friends) You win this one.

@Louis_Tomlinson

I want my tenner back @Harry_Styles

[chogiwank]

A Year’s Farewell - NonIdol!Jaehyun Smut&Fluff | Part 2

You Can Read Part 1 Here

Word Count: 2,502

Warnings: Smut, Phone Sex, Toy, Sir Kink/Mr.Jung, kinda proofread???

Pairing: Law Major!Jaehyun, Non Idol!Jaehyun x University Student!FemaleReader

A/N: I mean I really hope you guys like this because I’ve been working on this as much as I could since like January oh god and its still probably shit enjoy!!hopefully also side note,, happy birthday to jung jaehyun!! the softest bean and wow im so in love destroy me please

Knock, Knock…

The soft taps on the door caught his attention from sitting on the couch, watching his weekly reruns of ‘Friends’ on Netflix. Standing up to answer the door, checking the time - 10:00PM he wondered who it’d be so late, definitely not recalling order for take-out. Opening the door revealed a female with baggage and bundled up with a jacket to keep her warm,

“Hello,” he kindly greeted the girl, her nose red from the cold outside. “is there anything I can help you with?”

“Hi, I’m so sorry it’s so late but I just came back from a summer trip - I didn’t know if you’d be awake…” She cleared her throat, unwrapping her scarf from her neck and unzipping the jacket.

Jaehyun cocked an eyebrow at her, “You might be mistaken.”

“Uh no, actually I didn't get to fill out the housing form, but I got some luck since your old roommate dropped out so hi, hey, how’s it going, I guess we live together now.” She flashed a smile at him, “I’m Y/N, great to meet you.”

Jaehyun’s ears turned red slightly embarrassed knowing he’d be sharing a dorm with a girl, and even more, realizing the first thing she sees him in is duck pyjamas, “Nice to see you too, let me help you in.”

“Thanks.” She laughed, “love the pyjamas by the way.” teasingly winking picking up her suitcase into the dorm. His ears turn a brighter shade of red, grabbing onto the rest of her bags and dragging them into the vacant bedroom.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be a bother to you for that long,” sliding off her jacket onto the bed. “I’ll be out next semester.”

“Why is that?”

“The apartment I’m supposed to be in is occupied since there was a little mix-up, so the resident will be out by the time the second semester comes around.”

“Oh, okay,” Jaehyun awkwardly laughs. “Well I should be leaving you alone, don’t want to invade your privacy or anything.” Turning around to walk out back to the living space.

“Wait, I saw you were watching Friends, mind if I join you?” Enthusiastically he accepted happily to have someone on his lonely weekly binge. “Alright, just ten minutes and I’ll be there.” That first night the two bonded from strangers to acquaintances over Netflix and junk food, despite the unexpected meeting and ungodly hours of the night, - laughing and getting to know each other just a little, this being the beginning of it all.

Exams, final exams are coming up, all the stress headaches and late night study sessions begun. This was it, this was going to happen sooner or later I knew it, my sanity coming to borderline insanity. The shooting head pains - whether it be lack of sleep or too much studying - making me hallucinate, my brain pulling tricks on me and the fact I was practically alone in the library did not help even a bit. I swear my eyes just made me see Casper the ghost or something near. She thought.

The unreasonable hours she’s been studying late into the night, right now at three (3) AM exactly. Abandoning her workspace to search what she claims to see, calling out ‘Hello’s’ and ‘Anyone? Please answer.’ Turning the corner she’d lost balance bumping into a hard chest -hearing a book’s thump as it hit the ground- her fall halt by a hand grabbing her arm. Opening her eyes she tightly shut expecting to harshly hit the ground, unmasking the mystery of the said ‘Casper,’

“Jaehyun?” He gave an apologetic smile.

“Hey, sorry I scared you.” Helping her upright on both feet. “You were gone so late, I kind of got worried when I got up for a glass of water and you weren’t passed out on the couch with your books.”

She slightly blushed at the male’s concern towards her, “Well I mean, thanks but it would’ve been nicer and less scary if you’d told me you were coming.”

“I know I just didn’t want to disturb you beforehand, guess I should’ve planned it out better.”

“It’s alright, but you really are so pale, you looked like a ghost!” She exclaimed.

“Well how about I just changed my skin to orange? Less frightening?”

“That’s appalling.” The two laughing in unison as they gather Y/N’s materials and head back to their shared apartment, ready for a best-as-can-be goodnight’s sleep.

And with that, she woke up once again in the library. This time in broad daylight packed with many others.

Oh, it was a dream. The reminisce of when she first developed unknown feelings for Jaehyun, his unexpected kind-heartedness settled a secret warmth within her heart.

She must’ve passed out halfway through reading her textbook and writing notes. Sighing she collects her belongings returning to her apartment. Setting down her backpack and plopping onto the couch - her mind jumbled with thoughts and memories of her boyfriend. - a new year of University begun again and he’d flown overseas for job placement and studies the whole year. One complete year without him and going through school without their weekly night routine of cuddles, kisses and chats. Considering the amount of stress which would sometimes build up, he helped to get rid of it by deep, comforting talks or sensational sex - rough or sweet however she’d preferred. She fathomed what to do in her situation and really all she needed was to see him.

Sending a video chat from her phone, she pleads to all those superior to let him pick up - a smile forming upon her features as his face pops up on screen - her request heard.

“Hey baby, how are you?” He spoke cheerfully, face beaming. His tousled hair and rosy cheeks, visible due to him being barefaced, gave him a gentle look. Oh how badly she’d missed the sight of him, his arms wrapping around her with a soft “hello beautiful” and peck, greeting each other after their long schedules.

“Oh, I’m so sorry were you busy?”

“No, not really I’m just finishing up some notes,” he cleared his throat. “listen, I’m so sorry for not calling.”

“In all honesty, me too, These four (4) weeks have been hectic, I’ve had no time,” a clear voice crack heard. “But at least now we can talk.”

Interrupting his notetaking, he looks at her with eyebrows furrowed, “are you okay?” She shakes her head no. “Babe, talk to me please don’t cry.”

“I-it, it’s just so much workload from school and I haven’t been managing many shifts…”

Jaehyun nods his head, encouraging her to continue as he listens to her bothers,

“So I barely have the cash to buy proper food, it’s just been the cheapest, greasiest fast food I could find. And I…” sniffing as she sobs, tears wetting her cheeks. “I miss you so much. I want you to hold me and come back soon.”

“Listen to me,” Jaehyun speaks sternly. “First off, don’t cry you know how much it pains me when you do.” Deeply inhaling she wipes away her tears, sitting up on the couch and bites her bottom lip. Nodding as she motions him to continue speaking,

“You are so precious, don’t starve. You’ve got my key, I’ve got a good amount of money for you to use-”

“Jae, no, I can’t-”

“Yes you can, what’s mine is yours. Please, stay healthy. It’s in my closet a little safe box behind all my clothes, emergency money.”

“That’s very kind, thank you.” She snuffs cracking a smile, her eyes twinkle from happiness and gratitude towards the boy.

“It’ll be enough for until the end of the semester, then I’ll return, make sure you stay on top of work and studies.”

“Wait…you’re coming back? I thought it was the whole year?”

“Shortened it, I don’t think you’ve noticed but it’s extremely lonely.” His sarcasm compliments his ‘duh’ expression.

“Honestly, I’ve been having the time of my life. Spectacular food, parties, can’t even feel the solitude.” The two giggled. Knowing they’d missed one another’s presence and voices, warm gazes sent to the other through the fluorescent screen. Both sitting in silence as the other virtually accompanied them, the sounds of the clock ticking and unexpected raindrops landing upon the window were the only sounds heard. Flashing silly faces at each other, the two ended in a fit of laughter during their battle,

“You shall never beat me y/n! I am always the winner!” He dramatically poses, mimicking a victory action.

“Never? You’re wrong. Truly so, so very wrong.” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow at her, intrigued by the comment.

“Why may that be?” He questions.

“Because,” she cheekily states. Standing her phone on the coffee table against a small glass decor, settling on her knees. Unbuttoning her top enough to reveal cleavage, smirking at her own actions, “I never lose with these, you give in so quick to me baby.” She innocently bats her lashes. He licks his lips while she continues to unbutton her shirt, her breasts exposed yet covered with her lace bra worn underneath,

“I don’t think this is the best time, y/n.” He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, swallowing his saliva from the desire building up.

“Awe, why?” She pouts.

“My roommate, he’ll be back in an hour-” restless eyes flickering to the time on his watch.

“You’ve done me faster,” A bold, mischevious interjection said as her shirt pools on the ground, bra hook unclipped and straps slide down her arms, throwing the undergarment elsewhere. “Please Mr.Jung.” Putting on a show of her exposed breasts on screen. Flaunting them with a little bounce and a little shake, “I’ll be so good.”

Breath hitching in his throat, choking out a fuck it. The sounds of the door locking and his belt unbuckling heard off screen. Sitting back in his seat, he positions his phone on the desk, backing up to have his body in full view,

“I can’t believe you actually affect me this much.” Pulling out his semi-hard cock, pumping the length in an attempt to fully erect. “Baby girl, please you got to cum for sir and make him cum too, okay?”

“Yes, Mr.Jung.” Now positioned on the couch, bottoms off and legs split open in view of the camera, she begins to rub her clit and finger herself. Self-teasing with one finger, with such unexpected pleasure without being touched by Jaehyun for weeks. Her clit erogenous, shivers racing up and down her spine, soft moans of Jaehyun’s name left her mouth, and her’s from his. The two lasted for a while until y/n halts her erotic actions.

“What’s wrong?” he pants, hesitantly slowing down his movements on his cock as she disappears from the screen, silently groaning as the familiar knot fades. Shuffling noises heard in the background until she returns to her previous spot, this time with a hidden item, “Baby girl, what are you up to?”

“I really miss your cock, Mr.Jung, and I really want it, but I can’t…” Picking up her phone, fixating it upon the counter she grabs a nearby chair, “you can punish me later but I really need it.” Sticking a purple dildo on the chair, she gave him a roguish smile - Jaehyun and her never used the dildo much, not unless he wanted to tease her or make her work for her orgasm. In other words, punish her mostly for his own amusement. Although she never touched it, unless an order was given.- her legs centre the dildo to her entrance as Jaehyun breathes out,

“Naughty bitch, I’m going to fuck you senseless when I come back.”

“Please do.” She begs, almost whining.

“That’s a promise.” He says grunting, watching her lower down upon the toy feeling her walls stretch and accidental whimpers release. Speeding up the pace on his length at the sight of his girlfriend pleasuring herself. Moaning out for him, how desperate she really was for him. He whispers her name but loud enough to be heard through the call. Her walls clench around the toy - just like she did with Jaehyun, his moans erupting from his throat every time. - chanting profanities like a prayer, the two came near their highs, Jaehyun being the first to climax. Strings of his cum landing on top his shirt and pants, ruining the two articles of clothing.“Fuck baby girl, you made me ruin my clothes.”

“Mmm.” She lets out a high pitch whine. “S-sorry Mr.Jung.” As she races to find her climax.“Remember the first time, baby girl…” Jaehyun talks through cleaning himself up, simultaneously changing into his pyjamas, preparing for whenever his roommate knocks to be let in and avoiding the thoughts to ravish his girlfriend, controlling his once again developing hard-on. “The first time you came so hard, you squirt on me. Right on your bedroom floor and we had to buy a new rug. That was so sexy, cum like that once more for me.” Her moans a higher pitch from every word he spoke, the familiar twist in her stomach formed. Sweat glistened on her forehead and wet, pornographic sounds of her sliding down the cheap dildo, “Remember all those times I stayed over until the morning and woke you up with my tongue?”

“Yes, yes…” she pant.

“The days we’d both be pissed at our professors or bosses and you’d let me push you against the wall to throat fuck you.”

“Those were really fucking hot…” her head thrown back and fingers rubbing her clit in an eager attempt to release.

“And that one time against your balcony doors, on my birthday. How they’re glass and in clear sight of anyone passing by to-“

“FUCK, YES OH GOD.” She lets out a scream as ecstasy devours her. Thighs trembling from the hard orgasm,  “I remember…” lowering her voice as she calms down. “I remember when we fucked against those doors,” her untidy, sweaty, post-sex appearance covered with a suggestive smirk on her face could bring Jaehyun an instant boner again. He did, usually, it did, but he’d have to control himself now. “That was really the hottest fuck we ever had, and we are doing it all over again when you’re back.” She says with more stable breaths.“Of course-“

Knock, knock!  The sound of the doors alerted Jaehyun,

“I’ll be there one second!” He gave his girlfriend a loving and apologetic smile, “Clean yourself up baby girl, I’m sorry we can’t do round two, but I swear, you will get such a better fuck when I’m back.”

“I’m waiting.” She winked, blowing him a farewell kiss.

And with that, the call ends and y/n makes the utmost effort to clean herself up. Despite her weak legs and heavy eye-lids, her mood was completely different. Definitely still with stress but, a relaxed feeling from the masturbation and her boyfriend.

Anon Asked: Hiii!! love ur work!!! can you pls write a phone call smut with jaehyun (non-idol AU) where you’re really stressed and tired about school or something and you miss him while hes away for smthn and then u call him crying and he talks u down and gets u all loose if u know what i mean lol !! pls and thanks 💕

[cultureisdarkbeer]

Thanks you @ms31x129 for the beautiful fanart

NEW CHAPTER 128 POSTED TODAY! 

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Excerpt: Chapter 24 - Whiter Shade of Pale - Episode - Rush

Summary: Smut/Angst/Fluff - First time on a case after deciding to move forward with their romantic relationship

[Jan 4, 2000]

The number one illuminated.  Scully tapped her foot impatiently, butterflies swarming in her stomach.  Their first case since their intense encounter on New Year’s Day.  She wasn’t sure how they would react to each other now in a work setting.  She was concerned about her ability to keep her professional composure and she was late for work. After almost 48 hours of hardly leaving his bedroom, she had collapsed when she finally arrived back at her apartment and slept through the alarm.  Not to mention it seemed to take forever this morning to pick out something to wear.  Then the taxi ride was almost a crawl as she read through the police report Mulder had faxed her from St. Jude Hospital in Pittsfield.  She wasn’t exactly sure why she was on edge, but she wanted to get the initial meeting over with.  Hopefully, he was alone. The elevator doors opened.  She smiled to herself. Here we go.

He couldn’t wait to see her and couldn’t wait to dive into this case.  Impatiently he began to dial his phone when he felt a tap on his left shoulder and turned around.  His smile grew wide.  She looked stunning, radiant. Her lips appeared darker, eyes brighter, hair shining as it bounced against the top of her jawline.  His eyes followed her neckline and he noticed it.  She was wearing a white button down shirt that was hugging her body and displayed enough cleavage to get his attention.  Down boy, he thought to himself as he blinked twice and flipped the track in his head to side B where a dead body was lying with his eyeglasses falling out of the back of his head.

“Uh…(chuckles).  There you are.  Heavy traffic?”

“Slow going.  Let’s just say I had ample time to read the police report that you faxed me.”

“Thoughtfully provided by the local authorities, even though it doesn’t begin to tell the whole story.”

When she bent over to examine the back of the deceased Deputy Foster’s head, Mulder couldn’t help but wonder where he registered on the perversion scale for checking out her ass.  Yeah, this would be a long day.

They walked down the corridor of the Pittsfield Sheriff’s station where Jesse, the suspect’s friend flirtatiously bumped Mulder to get his attention.  Scully was accustomed to women using Mulder as eye candy, but she’d be damned if he was going to look back.  She pinched his elbow hard to remind him that the tag on his collar said property of Dana Katherine Scully. He laughed nervously, “What?” as he felt the sting of her whip. They walked into the interrogation room and Mulder regretted sitting down as he was now at perfect eye level to notice Scully’s button screaming at him to free its restraints with his teeth.  He dug his nails into his leg to keep himself from moving his head.

A serious Scully was carrying the investigation, “..you say that Deputy Foster stopped you, but you don’t say why”

Mulder refocused. “Come ‘on, you were out cruisin’….

As they stepped back out into the hallway and began discussing the case, Scully felt her body leaning into his.  That warm inviting tension that obliterated their personal space.  His lips were pursed as he clamored on about spiritual entities and poltergeists.   It reminded her of last week as she whispered those same sweet nothings into his ear.  She decided to test the waters. Today she wanted to be in the power position.

“Mulder…rather than spirits…” She tugged at the bottom of his tie, stroking it phallically, staring at it almost seductively.  “Can we at least start with Tony’s friends?” And here came a little Marilyn Monroe, “Please? Just…for me?” Her eyes followed it up towards the knot envisioning him naked with just the tie on. . . . “I think there’s one person in particular I’d like to talk to”

Mulder’s pants became tighter as his legs turned to jelly.  I am totally fucked he thought to himself.  I will never be able to say no to this woman again.  She can have anything she wants, do whatever she wants.  Did she really just manipulate me with her feminine wiles?  Why yes she did and yes I wish she would do it again.  With the only movement he was capable of he whipped his head to the side and smirked following behind her.  She'd had her way with him and it felt so good.

As they left the Sheriff’s station, Scully remarked, “I guess we’re done for the day”

“Yeah, there’s not much we can do until we get the results from the lab and I want to see what Chuck’s opinion is before I reach any conclusions.  My car's parked across the street.  I could drive you back to headquarters or I could just drop you off at your apartment and pick you back up in the morning?” He tried to sound casual, but felt like he was failing miserably.

“That’s fine.  I can leave my car there overnight.” She said matter-of-factly.  This made him so happy he wanted to do a dance.  The thought of spending a night without her wrapped in his arms now seemed unfathomable.  How was he going to make it the first time they had to be away on a case?

They began their trek back to D.C. and Mulder was the first to speak, “That’s a very nice shirt you’re wearing Scully.”

“Oh, you like it?”

“Yeah, but it may be missing a few buttons.”

“I see. Mulder?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe we can drive a little faster?” A full day of not being able to be physically connected to him was taking its toll on her.  She knew she wasn’t going to make it back to her apartment.

“Scully, your hand on my thigh is making it very hard for me to drive at all.”  His knuckles were turning a whiter shade of pale on the steering wheel.

The traffic had them at almost a standstill and her hand was slowly reaching the top of his thigh.

“Scu….Scully, please, I’m going to drive off the road.” He felt as though he may burst through his pants.  His will to drive had dissipated.  He was not sure she understood the full extent of the impact she had on him.

“Maybe, maybe not.” She was still being coy.

“Did you just unbutton my pants?” Mulder glanced down for effect. “Yes, yes you did. You unbuttoned my pants.  Ok…. Well… and there goes the zipper.”

Mulder closed his eyes as her lips made contact, then jolted them open recalling that he was the one driving.

“Scully, I’m serious. We can’t do this. What about being on a case? What about reckless driving? What about … ?”

Holy shit you’re stroking my balls.  What kind of calisthenics are you doing with your tongue?  Driving had now become an afterthought and he was swerving all over the road. A truck in the oncoming lane blared his horn and veered to avoid them.  He got off the highway and pulled down a dead end road.  He shifted the car in park, reclined the seat back and freed himself in one clean motion.

“Scully, is this because I strayed from the paranormal?  Is it because you want your name on the door? Because if it is, I could get you your name on the door. If this is about my desk again, the desk is yours…they never asked me when I got the office back…I mean our office back.”

“Mulder?”

“Yes”

“Shut up.”

He closed his eyes and heard a familiar snap like, like…latex…latex gloves.  Why would she be putting on gloves?

She took him again and sucked with increasing pressure while her tongue continued the rumba.  He felt the vibration of her moans coursing through him and thought this may not be a completely selfless act after all.  Her left hand began creating figure eights while her right thumb was making light circles over his perineum.  That’s when he felt it.  The finger of her right hand was massaging his prostate….From. The. Inside.

If he was so inclined to protest, the results would have been in vain for his vocal cords had ceased the ability to vibrate.  The heavens had opened their gates, gave him a high five and were now returning him back down to earth.

He wasn’t sure if his lungs were taking in air and it no longer seemed of concern, but he did wonder when his hearing and sight might return.  He reached out for her hand and she held it tight.  His first words were all that his brain could compute.

“You’re a medical doctor.”

That produced a giggle.  “Yes Mulder, yes I am. Are you okay?”

“I will be eventually. For now, though, I think you’re going to have to drive us home. And Scully… I’m a very very lucky man.”

Mulder awoke to the sounds of Scully singing off key to an incomprehensible song.  It took him a couple minutes to realize they were still in the car.   “How long was I out?”

“Oh about 3 and a half hours.  We’ll be home soon.”

Mulder stared out the window at the darkening sky, “I’m thinking that blur on the VCR tape might be the spirit of a former student. Maybe a ghost coming back for some sort of revenge.”

“Or maybe… it was just a glitch on the tape.” Added Scully pulling the car into a spot before heading inside her apartment.

If you enjoyed this, please reblog. Thanks! 

@monikafilefan @kyouryokusenshi

[volume-indigo]

a bad romance

1. I am floating. I move my head beneath the water and watch the surface shake like champagne bubbles. The water is dancing and it is peaceful, a peace I do not wish to be free of. The light that shines down on me illuminates my bathtub makes the bubbles glisten as if I were really bathing in a pool of fizzy golden nectar. I yearn to keep this peace forever, under the water where no one can find me. Where the outside world is indistinguishable from the sounds of my own thoughts. I am alone, and I have never felt more content inside this glimpse of loneliness. My bath smells of roses and chamomile. The aroma sends peace through my body as if God jarred the mixture himself. My heart starts to dance like the champagne bubbles that now break apart as I lift my head out of the water. I am grateful for the rare moments I experience with a blank mind, free of the constant battle my conscious has with itself. As the water loses its warmth and shifts into a temperature too lukewarm for my liking, I remove myself from the tub and wrap myself in one of the green and cream-colored tropical towels I picked out as “his and hers” towels for the doomed relationship that was Doug and Margot. As I wrap myself in the towel, the memory of Doug wrapping me in it and pulling me into his arms feels so real that I immediately rip it off and run naked into my bed. I lay there and let the fan make my body so cold that all I can think about is how uncomfortable I am once goosebumps start to trickle down my body. That technique works for about sixty seconds, and then his face is back in my head again. The thick head of dark hair and almond eyes that gorge into me and give the cutest wide-eyed look that ever existed. It was a look he’d always give me when he must have wanted me to fall even more in love with him than I already was. There is only one way out of this, and that is to think about the man who takes up the second half of my heart. Jimmy is familiar, he is a boyfriend and a brother all in one. No one can make me laugh, smile, or cry like he can. He is the one I have loved since before I finished puberty, he knows me completely and inside and out. He has the power to hit every nerve and ignite every crevice of me. His beauty is his hair, a golden oasis that I wish I could explore for the rest of my life. This is the deepest evil I have ever known, existing amongst two things in the world that I want so badly that it feels like a need and not being able have either one of them. Except for the mere blink in time that I did.

2.

The sun is setting over the grass fields we used to play in once upon a time. Our preteen ghosts wander the endless green and walk right next to each other, hand in hand. Jimmy and I sit against the wall of an old handball court, looking at each other and smiling. Now we’re laughing because we can hear our oldest friends, Annette and Brad enjoying each other’s company right behind the wall that divides us. Jimmy pushes my hair from my face and pulls me in for a kiss. The familiarity of kissing a boy you’ve been kissing since you were thirteen is a comfort neither of us have ever been able to let go of these last eight years. He looks at me now with a remorseful tenderness that I do not recognize in him. He knows that our time together is over. We have completed this part of our journey, and it makes us both want to claw our way back together in cowardly nostalgia. The sense of malaise we both experience without the other’s presence is unbearable, which only pushes us further apart. Jimmy grabs my hand now and laces his fingers between mine. “I love you, Margot, so much,” I spot a tear about ready to break loose from his tear duct. “I just don’t think I’m in love with you anymore,” he looks as if he has just broken his own heart. Even though he has spoken my feelings exactly, this cuts me deep like a knife. My soul feels like it’s bleeding out and drowning us both in a pool of my blood. “I know,” tears that I have been denying myself for months are now erupting from me. “I can’t say that I’m in love with you anymore either, but I love you more than I can possibly explain.” He pulls my head into his shoulder and strokes my hair. Stay calm, sweet girl, I will never leave you, is what he says to me with this action. He really has never broken that promise. Even when we have wanted to kill each other, I have never completely lost him. He is mine forever, my best friend and my soulmate who is no longer meant to be romantic. I break loose from his grasp and look forward. He moves his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in. I am warm, I am content. We watch the sunset together and enjoy the last moments we will ever have as lovers instead of just as friends. He is mine, I am his, forever.

3. “I miss the days when the only man I was in love with was my father,” Annette is moments from deep sleep right next to me, and this causes her to giggle right out of it. It is a part of our annual tradition that we have a sleepover the night before she goes back to Missouri. This goodbye will not be so bad because this will be her last miserable year in the state she hates. She will return to me, the sunshine, and palm trees right here in California in only a few months. Annette is my best friend, my sister, my most trusted confidante. I can communicate to Annette with a breath, a stare, a simple phrase; when we are together, we are one. “You’re ridiculous, Margot,” her fake irritation always charms me, makes me believe I’m funny. “Now let me sleep, I have a 25-hour drive in the morning,” she drifts back into almost sleep, but I am wide awake. I hold onto these last moments with her because I am terrified for the ones that come after. She is my only real friend, the only one that actually cares whether I live or die, whether I’m happy or sad. She’s the only friend who hasn’t betrayed my pathetically gullible trust. “I love you, Annette,” I whisper to her sleeping subconscious, as if this fact isn’t as clear as day to her. If I’m being honest, even one more year without her will be a hard one to get through. She will abandon me to my own devices, and secretly, I wish I was the one that had to go to school in Missouri to play soccer. In Missouri, I wouldn’t be haunted by the ghosts of old boyfriends, I wouldn’t be crippled by the pain of the past that looks me in the eye every single day I pass by my high school. I could be someone different entirely. That is what I have always wanted: to be someone else entirely.

4. I have a funny obsession with mirrors. I write about them, I dream about them, I stare at myself in them incessantly in hopes that I will someday find myself beautiful. Many people awe over my beauty, compliment my luminous skin, ask me where I get my hair done, and how I stay in such good shape. I do not see what they see. I see the lumpy prepubescent girl I once was. I can almost see the frumpy, Pillsbury dough poster child that once looked back at me through the façade of the pretty girl that looks across from me now. I can still hear “you’re a fat, worthless piece of shit, Margot,” coming from my seventh-grade bully’s mouth at each moment I allow myself to feel pretty. I sit and stare at myself in my ceiling-to-floor length mirror and examine what’s looking back at me. I am the picturesque symbol of a self-hating narcissist, a term I have just coined in this very moment. I see all the beauty and all of the ugly in myself all in one blink of an eye. The image of me is as if Janis Ian and Rachel Green were walking nervously along the same tight rope where the center is a deadly pit of fire. I crawl back into my bed covers and shut my eyes. I see myself as I want to be. I am laying in a field of bright red roses, the sun filling me with warmth under the shade of a eucalyptus tree. My mind has taken me to my Eden. I lay here for a while and dream of a different life, a life in rose fields that go on forever. I wish to stay here eternally, even if it isn’t real. I do not wish to leave this paradise, the only place that has ever truly felt like home. I wish to stay blissfully alone in another realm of reality.

[wbwest]

New Post has been published on WilliamBruceWest.com

New Post has been published on http://www.williambrucewest.com/2017/05/05/west-week-ever-pop-culture-review-5517/

West Week Ever: Pop Culture In Review - 5/5/17

In TV news, we got the first trailer for Marvel’s The Defenders series on Netflix. I dunno, y’all. I’ll be the first person to tell you that I’m behind on these shows. At this point, I’ve only seen Daredevil season 1 and Jessica Jones. No DD S2, no Luke Cage, and no Iron Fist. Sorry, kids, but there just aren’t enough hours in the day. Daredevil was a worthy bingeing experience, as each episode ended on a cliffhanger that MADE you have to check out the next episode immediately. Jessica Jones, not so much. It took me about 3 months to get through that show. Now, I enjoyed it, but it didn’t demand that I consume it immediately. I’m eager to catch Luke Cage, but I wanna go in order, so that means I’ve got to meet the Punisher and Elektra first in Daredevil season 2. So, even though The Defenders comes out in August, I’ll be lucky if I get to it in 2017. Anyway, I told you all that to make you see that my level of enthusiasm for this probably isn’t as high as yours because I’m so far behind. That said, I thought this trailer looked hokey as Hell. The scene where Murdock comes into Jessica’s interrogation felt like a bad fan film. Shit, the whole thing felt like a bad fan film. Remember when Playstation Network aired that Bendis Powers show? Yeah, it looks like that. Something about the cinematography of it all. And then they had to do another goddamn hallway fight. WE GET IT ALREADY! I just don’t know about this one right now..

In other TV news, there are talks of a Roseanne revival, with ABC and Netflix interested bidding on the project. Laurie Metcalf, Aunt Jackie herself, reported that contracts have been worked out, so now they’re just trying to sell the series. Right now, Roseanne (does she currently have a last name?), John Goodman, and Sara Gilbert would star, while Metcalfe says she’s on board in some capacity. It’ll be interesting to see how they pull this off, ya know with Dan being dead and all. Still, it ended with one of the most maligned series finales in television history, and they’ve got a chance to basically erase it. How many shows can say that? Anyway, I was never a huge Roseanne fan. They were just so poor and depressing. Are they gonna lose the bike shop? Are they gonna lose the loose meat restaurant? Is Fisher gonna stop beating up Jackie? I know their struggles resonated with certain folks, but not me. I actually liked the Lottery Season because I could say “Thank God their lives aren’t such shit anymore!” Anyway, I’d bet money on this happening, so it’s now just a matter of where it’s gonna air. The big question is in which “universe” it will be set. After all, the finale basically laid out that everything since about season 4 of the show had been a lie, since Darlene actually ended up with Mark, Becky was the one with David, Jackie was a lesbian, etc. So, would we get the “true” Roseanne, or just more of what we’re used to? And with Mark dead, and David on The Big Bang Theory, I don’t really expect much from those characters anyway. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

I was on my own last weekend, so I took the time to watch TV and catch up comics. Well, I didn’t really watch TV, but it was on in the background. It provided the soundtrack to my comic time. What did I watch? CMT – Country Music Television. Yeah, yeah, you hate country. I don’t care. I grew up on it, so it has a special place in my heart. Anyway, when I saw Brad Paisley’s new video for “Last Time For Everything”, I KNEW I had to share it with y’all. This thing is a love letter to children of the 80s, complete with tracking/tape distortion lines. I don’t wanna spoil anything, so just check it out. Don’t worry – the song’s not about drankin’, or a dead dog, or his wife left him; it’s just a song about appreciating things when you have them because they won’t always be there.

The backdoor pilot for the Black-ish spinoff aired this week. Oh, you don’t know what a “backdoor pilot” is? It’s when an established show gives up one of its episodes to try to launch a new show. Since it already has a built-in audience, it kinda tricks viewers into watching a new show that they otherwise wouldn’t have checked out. Married…with Children had, like, 4 of them. Anyway, in Black-ish, Zoey went off to check out college, made a new best friend, and pissed off the Black Student Union. The whole episode was kinda hokey, but it worked. Chris Parnell was the spineless dean, which is basically every Chris Parnell character these days. And I love how they worked Deon Cole’s Charlie into the plot. If the spinoff gets picked up (I mean, why wouldn’t it?), I hope he gets a bigger role there than he has on Black-ish. If Black-ish is a modern-day Cosby Show, then this is its A Different World. And there ain’t nothing wrong with that, really.

If you like useless gimmick items as much as I do, then make sure you pick up your Frork from McDonalds today. To celebrate the release of their three new Signature Crafted Recipes (Pico Guacamole, Sweet BBQ Bacon, and Maple Bacon Dijon), they’re releasing a utensil that they know nobody needs, but hey, why not? The Frork is basically a fry holder, where the fries act as the tines of the fork. In the infomercial, complete with Anthony Sullivan appearance, they claim the Frork will help you scoop up the toppings that fall off your overflowing sandwich. I swear Anthony Sullivan killed Billy Mays ‘so he’d get ALL that sweet infomercial work. But I digress…If you would like a Frork, check this link to see if one of your local McDonalds locations is giving them out today.

Things You Might Have Missed This Week

HBO has hired writers for FOUR potential Game of Thrones spinoffs. So, get ready for Match of Chairs, Bout of Seats, Mother of Dragons and, my personal favorite, Tits & Swords.

Warner Bros has pushed back its theatrical animated Scooby-Doo film two years to 2020.

Girl Meets World is officially dead, as creator Michael Jacobs was unable to find a new home for the series.

While this news is about a month old, FXX has decided against a fourth season of Man Seeking Woman, which wrapped up its 3rd season in March. The season finale was a fitting series finale, so I ain’t mad.

Hot on the heels of its premiere, Hulu has renewed The Handmaid’s Tale for a second season.

Surprising no one, Fox canceled the freshman drama Pitch, about the first female major league baseball player. Following on their heels, NBC canceled the Wizard of Oz update Emerald City.

It was reported that Gabriel Luna’s Ghost Rider will be returning to Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. for the season finale

Speaking of Marvel TV, we got our first cast picture from Inhumans. KILL IT! KILL IT WITH FIRE!

We also got our first look at the cast of Marvel’s Runaways on Hulu. They look like the comic, but I still hate that they aged Molly. I like her more as a precocious child to balance them out.

A strike by the Writers Guild of America, which would’ve affected all corners of entertainment, was narrowly averted at the 11th hour

Morning Joe hosts Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski revealed that they’re engaged. Man, they shit in the company ink! That’s the saying, right?

The biggest TV news of the week was that Ryan Seacrest was announced as Kelly Ripa’s permanent cohost on what will now be called Live with Kelly & Ryan. This bothered me so much! First of all, I was really kinda hoping an underdog, like Fred Savage, would get it. And if they had to go with a media person, they had Anderson Cooper and Andy Cohen on the list. But Seacrest?! The dude’s empire is based in LA and, yes, he has an empire. He’s a modern-day Merv Griffin, producing Keeping Up With The Kardashians, Shades of Blue, and Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve with Ryan Seacrest. He also has a daily syndicated radio show, On Air With Ryan Seacrest, as well as hosts the weekly American Top 40 countdown. With all that going on, you’d think he’d stay in LA instead of taking a job from a New Yorker. Instead, iHeartMedia has built a radio station in the ABC Studios building so that he can do his radio show immediately after taping Live. The plan is for him to stay in New York Monday-Thursday to film Live, he’ll pretape Friday’s show on Thursday, and then he’ll spend Friday-Sunday in LA.

But that’s not ALL the Seacrest news this week. You see, talks of an American Idol revival have heated up again. I wrote about it a few weeks ago, when NBC and Fox were both interested in the show – NBC especially because they could, then, reduce The Voice to one cycle a year. Those talks fell through, but now it appears that ABC has gotten into the game, with one stipulation: there’s no Idol without Seacrest, so the show would have to move to New York so he could continue to host. The show’s production company, Fremantle, insists that it stays in LA. ABC wants to announce it during the May upfronts, which occur in two weeks, for a Fall 2018 premiere (yeah, it ain’t gonna be ready by this Fall). So here’s the plan on how that would work: Fremantle wants to air Idol on Sunday nights from LA, where Seacrest would then fly to NYC after the show in order to make it in time to film Live Monday morning. After filming Monday’s Live, he would then fly back to LA for the Idol results show. Once that’s over, he would fly back to NYC in time for Tuesday’s Live. My God! The live portion of Idol is only 10 weeks, but that is a grueling schedule that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. So far, however, it seems that ABC’s plan would be to air Idol on Mondays, to go head to head with The Voice, so this plan wouldn’t work.

Say what you will about Seacrest, but I’ve always admired the dude’s work ethic. He doesn’t seem to know the word “no”, and he’s constantly building his brand. With the exception of the short-lived On Air With Ryan Seacrest TV show (which is conveniently missing from his Wikipedia entry), he doesn’t really fail at anything. I guess hard work and determination really can take you places. I’ll tell ya, back when he was hosting Click and Gladiators 2000, I had NO CLUE he would become as big as he is. He makes me wanna go out and get 3 more jobs. Then again, I wouldn’t have his net worth of $330 million, but it’d be a start. Anyway, for taking all the jobs, while growing in power, Ryan Seacrest had the West Week Ever.

[kartiavelino]

I Want Robin Harris To Wake Up:

“You understand you broke once they break in your home and don’t steal nothing…” Robin Harris opens a imaginative and prescient of his long-gone poverty with this foolish premise. Laughter bubbles in Los Angeles’ Comedy Act Theater. Massive, slick afros bounce on the outskirts of the highlight. And Harris simmers whereas they soak up his absurd setup from his self-titled Reside on the Comedy Act Theater. “Man, I’m so broke they left a be aware speaking ‘bout ‘Please purchase one thing.’ I purchased some. Once they got here again, they left one other be aware, it mentioned, ‘Steer clear of Ok Mart.’” I need Robin Harris to get up. In 1990, the Chicago comic died in his sleep. He was simply getting began. Rumors stirred about him residing a quick life, however they weren’t confirmed. His life went quick as a result of he pressed the gasoline when he acquired his breaks. He was on a world-famous run, starring in early Spike Lee hits Do the Proper Factor and Mo’ Higher Blues, glowing up in his scenes. Harris was born in 1962 to working-class mother and father in Chicago and utilized their regular ethic to his rise within the comedy world. As a nightclub emcee and after-hours common, Harris coloured his routine with improvised digs on the crowd and references to a bruised, beat-down life that wasn’t actually his personal. For a decade, he performed native golf equipment that invigorated the stand-up scene within the Midwest and drew main curiosity from Hollywood’s Black filmmakers like Lee and Reginald Hudlin. Though his most well-known set — a joke about relationship a single mother with dangerous children who by no means sleep — depicts him as a bachelor, he was a loyal father and husband. However on stage, he used uncooked language and didn’t maintain again. Ugly girls had betrayed him, he claimed. Ugly crowds weren’t well worth the time, he swore. “My outdated woman so ugly, y’all, the opposite day she was taking off her garments and a peeping Tom peeped by the window, broke in the home and pulled down the shade.” Harris was 36. Information articles checklist his official reason for demise as cardiac arrest from a bout of sleep apnea. Harris, like Patrice O’Neal, like Bernie Mac, left a bigger legacy than his persona. I’m 36, standing within the burly chuckling shadow he left, hoping to find him. Concern retains me from imagining my demise this month as a result of I’ll by no means do what he did in his storied dash of a life. On a Friday afternoon, the chilly vinyl cushion on the recliner at Maiden Lane Medical sticks to the naked pores and skin on my again. I’m laying down, comfortable stomach out, ready on the assistant. Her gloves snap, and I pop up from a Robin Harris daydream. I must understand how his model of “alive” felt, so I’m watching his sparse video clips over and over. For 3 weeks, I’ve been typing in his identify on YouTube, spiking his views one share level at a time, pondering he’ll present me who he was past the stage. He had 36 full years and, I guess, no gradual moments like this, ready for an ultrasound tech to use freezing gel to his love handles. I guess he tore up each stage and broke into sweats from the power of the laughter firing again at him. I solely really feel a cool drip percolating underneath my proper arm because it begins its roll down my facet. Robin Harris made jokes about being ugly and broke as a result of he was lovely and wealthy as the feel of his voice. His pressing grunt was the premise for Bernie Mac’s success. He was the surly uncle on the barbecue, cocking off jokes at bystanders, making you’re feeling each gross and fairly in the identical punchline. I sit at residence, propped up on a velvet sofa, not wealthy however not broke both, on the lookout for indicators of Harris within the too-brief clips. First, Do the Proper Factor tells me extra in regards to the Harris grunt than I first observed watching Home Social gathering. However the velvet sofa is so comfortable and comfy that I go to sleep at 1 a.m with the window open and the breeze tugging at my blanket. Robin Harris watched me doze from contained in the display.  I awoke gasping for air, like a phantom lodged the bushy blanket in my throat and stole the exhaling half. When I search for extra info on how Robin Harris lived inside his physique, his widow and mates discuss bother respiratory, and him falling asleep mid-conversation. I haven’t gotten this dangerous but, however possibly I don’t go laborious sufficient. Robin Harris died the identical month his largest film function premiered. I’ve already watched that film, Home Social gathering, 4 instances in seven days, as a result of I’m on the lookout for clues. The most effective proof I can discover of how he moved is in a particular known as Robin Harris Reside on the Comedy Act Theater. It’s a deep lower of him in 1988 internet hosting different rising comics, and I can shortly pull it up on streaming. He struts the stage, pivoting on his heels, half-walking half-jiving, belting out jokes and swallowing each ounce of air within the room. Harris dwarfs the opposite acts, a few of whom I’ve seen in bit elements, with out breaking stride or tripping up.    “The way you doing, waitress? Waitress positive look nervous spherical right here, don’t they? I’d be nervous too if I was stealing. Don’t fear, honey, I carry a razor too. A gun’ll misfire however you ain’t by no means heard of a razor mis-cutting. Stated I’ll lower you lengthy, deep, extensive and consecutively.” When I emerge from my daydream, I understand he’s joking however not. Robin Harris carried a razor as a result of he grew up on the South Facet of Chicago throughout a interval of the 1970s when rising up on the South Facet of a Black metropolis meant carrying razors. He matured quick and his tongue, his coronary heart, his lungs and his eyes needed to sustain. His piercing wit mimics the gesture of his knife joke, slicing gashes into my modest 36 years, chopping up what I’ve completed and have but to do. The medical doctors on Google bestowed me with sleep apnea, which may very well be both the dovetail to my tragic finish or a footnote in a protracted life. That sickness is the place the similarities begin and finish with me and Harris. However I acknowledge the deadly consequence when I learn accounts from his widow, Exetta. Within the Washington Put up report, an oral historical past of his mourners, she mentioned he’d been to the physician they usually wished to verify him out. Nevertheless it by no means acquired any additional. Harris’ household mentioned he talked in his sleep, nonetheless cracking jokes and taking pictures on the viewers in his head. Sleep apnea stays misunderstood regardless of how frequent it’s. The New York Occasions estimates 22 million Individuals have it, but few are conscious. The signs — loud loud night breathing, stressed sleep, grogginess upon waking — sound just like the sleep traits of most working adults I’ve recognized. Past that, we affiliate sleep apnea with weight problems (although it’s not confirmed that the latter causes the previous). Robin Harris’ widow, Exetta, noticed the signs that alert many spouses to a deeper well being situation. That’s why it’s additionally known as “witness apnea,” as a result of the sufferer’s sleep habits are a thriller to them in slumber.  I get up preventing ghosts that choke me, too, like on my Harris movie-marathon night time. I acquired so frightened of dying in my sleep, I went to get my aliveness checked as a result of I knew Robin Harris misplaced his the identical method. Although he spent his quick 36 years higher than I have, roaring previous friends, he turned the opposite cheek to mortal danger. That’s probably why it was straightforward to solid him as “Pop” in Child N’ Play’s Home Social gathering when he was solely 12 years older than his supposed son, Christopher “Child” Reid. Harris had grown right into a middle-aged man’s stout determine, so he was capable of painting a spread of murky ages. Whether or not because the shiftless Candy Dick Willie in Do the Proper Factor, laid again in his folding chair throne, roasting with the opposite street-corner drunks, or because the self-serious, quipping dad in Home Social gathering, Harris confirmed how light-hearted mockery might make any life extra fulfilling. Particularly his. The ultrasound tech presses down into my stomach and I really feel like I must pee. That is regular, she claims, however nothing appears that method when a girl you don’t know is enjoying together with your bladder from the surface. I maintain pondering of Candy Dick Willie saying, “It’s Miller Time,” as his drunk cohorts complain that Koreans personal shops they usually maintain shopping for extra beers from them because the “Black Man suffers.” Willie didn’t give a shit so long as he might get his beer on time and infrequently. As her latex hand relieves strain from my private space, she assures me there aren’t any issues. “It’s Miller Time,” I mumble, contemplating a beer since I have my aliveness again. “What was that?” “It’s from a film.” “You may go downstairs to reception to schedule a follow-up. The physician will clarify your outcomes.” Observe up what although? I’m fascinated with not going additional than this. Every week or two of checks, Google searches, filling out surveys, and finding out how aliveness ended and have become demise made me drained. If a person extra alive than me might die in his sleep, throughout the peak of his life, what probability did I stand in opposition to destiny? I need Robin Harris to get up. Within the opening scene of Home Social gathering, Pop yells at Child to complete his breakfast and go to high school. Within the subsequent beat, Child’s grabbing meals and screaming again that he can’t be scolded for not consuming meals earlier than he will get downstairs to eat. However when Pop doesn’t reply, he runs again upstairs to verify on him. Robin Harris as “Pop” sprawls on a king mattress in an undershirt and work pants, appearing out sleep. His film son unties his footwear so his dad can relaxation and provides him the sober, empathetic look of a young person understanding how a lot a dad or mum does to maintain them clothed and fed. When he’s Pop dozing on the mattress, he seems extra like Robin Harris, dishonest days to get greater than 24 hours and stealing treasured sleep. The director Reginald Hudlin made a bid to protect Robin Harris by turning the single-mom joke into the animated function Bébé’s Children. Harris died two years earlier than the film premiered, so Faizon Love voiced what was presupposed to be his character. In the end, the movie felt like a pieced-together memorial to a fallen jokester as a substitute of a fully-formed story. So many individuals owed a inventive debt to him, from Bernie Mac and Martin Lawrence to Lee and Hudlin, they spent years making an attempt to pay again what couldn’t be repaid. Harris probably didn’t relaxation a lot throughout his magical run from 1988 to 1990, and sleep appeared to overhaul him as a result of he had bother controlling it. Associates who knew him properly described him as hardworking and a worrier. He wished the jokes to land. He wished the group to burst into giggles. It’s laborious to learn in regards to the finish of his life and know that the one factor that eluded him, sleep, additionally carried him residence. That’s not how I wish to keep in mind his aliveness. Or mine. This week, I’m going for my follow-up appointment. http://feeds.bet.com/~r/Betcom-Celebrities/~3/nU2st7ZgbbM/robin-harris-tribute.html The post I Want Robin Harris To Wake Up: appeared first on My style by Kartia. https://kartiavelino.com/2019/03/i-want-robin-harris-to-wake-up.html