#what every crippling alcoholic says lol

[themessmashup]

Saturday afternoon means day drinking and bbq

(Also, foots still broken, need another surgery Monday 🙃)

[not-so-rosyyy]

really proud of tom for getting sober and talking about it openly 🥹 and despite what some people think you don't have to have a drinking problem/be an alcoholic to get sober. i never had a drinking problem, i drank once or twice a week socially if that but my anxiety would be crippling the day after drinking so i stopped and haven't drank in 8 months now. sometimes you don't realize how it's making you feel until you cut it out completely and i'm glad he's realized it's better for him whatever his reasons were

oh, god. SAME!!! when I used to work at a communications agency pre-pandemic, social drinking was a huge part of my life. my co-workers and I drank every week, sometimes to smooch clients; sometimes to just let loose because the job was so fucking stressful. but everytime the next day, I'd go to work feeling like crap yet powering through because I had to delude myself into thinking it's all part of the job.

but when the pandemic hit and I quit the agency life, I also started cutting back on the alcohol. I would drink at the most two glasses of wine or sangria only on very special ocassions (like christmas or new years). and it felt so freeing, lol. so, what I'm saying is...people do these things for different reasons and Tom sharing that in the interview is NOT an invitation for some of you to diagnose him. that is all, thanks. 😊

[inkforhumanhands]

Rules: List your WIPs below (if you only write one fic at a time, feel free to include future WIPs/ideas!) then answer the following questions. Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs (or more).

1. WIP List:

Epistaxis Anime

Out of the Darkness, Into the Limelight

A Gentleman Caller

MikeFoggy fake dating

Bloom (I Had a Dream About You) mattfoggy pwp

Don't Give Yourself This Excuse

Saint Anthony helps Matt find kidnapped Foggy fic

Foggy Nelson, Super Sleuth!

s2 Karen thinks mattfoggy breakup is romantic and not DD fuckery

Foggy and Karen go to witch to resurrect Matt post-Midland Circle

s3 alcoholic Foggy angst

v1 Matt dates Daredevil

His Wife Has Filled His House With Chintz

v2 Matt has sex dreams about Foggy while he's in witpro

v3 Ben Urich plays mattfoggy matchmaker

v4 Foggy cancer arc getting jealous that Matt gets to go places with Kirsten in public

v5 purple children mind wipe happens while Matt and Foggy are dating

v6 Matt hasn't slept with Foggy because of his tendency to go all in on relationships

v7 Goldy threatening Foggy and Matt going apeshit

Guesswork (the OC fic)

The Good One (the OC oneshot)

Hannigram obsession fic

Matthias & Maxime prequel

2. Which of your WIPs is currently the longest?

Epistaxis Anime at almost 27k

3. Which WIP do you expect will end up the longest?

Probably EA but Guesswork is already at 12k and I'm not 100% sure where it's going to end up. Also Limelight was originally planned to clock in at 20k but chapter 1 is already like 8k so....... we'll see.

4. Which WIP is your favourite to write/the most enjoyable to write? Why?

This rotates lmao which is probably why I never seem to finish anything adfsdf. I have a lot of fun with many of these but especially (in no particular order): MikeFoggy fake dating, Gentleman Caller, Limelight, Chintz, EA, and Guesswork

5. Which WIP do you find the most intimidating to write? Why?

This also rotates and is mostly because if I start writing something too well I feel pressure to keep it up. Right now on my list of "omg what will i do if i fuck this up" fics are Chintz, Limelight, and mikefoggy.

6. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

Again, this rotates!! I am struck by crippling self-doubt about like every 500 words (at least) of any WIP.

7. Which of your WIPs will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? Why?

I asked the lovely @iheartallthethings to give Guesswork chapter 2 a quick read-over because I've never actually been to a bar mitzvah and she was very helpful!

8. Have any of your WIPs been struck by the curse of writer's block?

HAHAHAHAHAHA DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT SUPER SLEUTH

9. Which WIP has your favourite OC? Tell us about them?

If Saint Anthony counts as an OC then him lmao. I only have like 500 words of him but he's great.

10. Which WIP is the sexiest?

Chintz!

11. Which WIP is the angstiest?

Don't Give Yourself This Excuse. It's literally suicidal!Matt so. boom.

12. Which WIP has the best characterisation (in your humble opinion)?

Either Guesswork or Limelight probably.

13. Which WIP has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

I'm pretty partial to the opening scenes in Limelight and Gentleman Caller, but also the opening to Chintz is gonna knock all your socks off!

14. Which WIP have you worked the hardest on?

Ooh, difficult to say. I've definitely put a lot of hours into EA but probably Guesswork or Limelight. I rewrote parts of Guesswork chapter 2 like five times and it was awful lol.

15. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for? Why?

Limelight because I love the movie it's based on and if I can capture even a quarter of that magic it's gonna be fantastic.

16. Do you dream about any of your WIPs?

Nope, my dreams don't usually go where I'd like them to.

17. Do any of your WIPs have particular complexities that your other fics don't?

Guesswork because it's sensitive subject matter (lingering trauma) seen through the lens of a character who hasn't experienced it himself and therefore doesn't understand it/keeps fucking up because of it.

18. Which WIP is the funniest or has the most humour?

mikefoggy and Gentleman Caller, although Limelight is also pretty funny in parts. oh and EA is delightful if I do say so myself.

19. Do any of your WIPs contain outside POVs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? How are you finding that process?

Saint Anthony is an outside POV (partially anyway, it alternates between him and Matt) and it's fun to see things through the eyes of someone who has much less stake in what's happening while Matt's tearing New York apart.

20. Tell us one thing we don't know about one or more of your WIPs.

Don't Give Yourself This Excuse's title and idea were taken from Peaky Blinders. Tommy's sister Ada tells him that after some kids were blown up in a bomb meant for him and his enterprise and she's afraid he'll act on his suicidal tendencies because of it.

oopsies almost forgot to tag people: @amazing-spiderling @pomegranate-belle @udekai @stripedscribe @neonbrutalism and alll the people i definitely 100% forgot

[psychewithwings]

heyy can you do a shikamaru x reader where they smoke weed and they like shotgun and stuff and then they just end up fucking lol

Dude, I’ve been thinking about writing this fic for a hot sec so I’m really glad you requested it <3 I will always write for this man, hope u likeee it haha!

WARNINGS: drinking, smoking weed, ownership kink, dom Shika

It was Choji’s birthday party and you sipped on your drink nervously, talking with a few of your other friends and colleagues, trying to keep you eyes away from where Shikamaru was standing. He was talking and joking with Ino and Choji. Why had you made things so complicated?

It was a few weeks prior and Shika had been assigned to a mission with you. It had just been the two of you and you’d spent a lot of time talking together. It had started with simple things, about the mission mostly, but then it grew into asking about favourite foods, childhood memories, and questioning things about the world as you knew it. You’d developed inside jokes and started to really enjoy each others company. So much so, that you two had slept together on the way back from the mission. 

It had happened so naturally, you’d just been conversing before going to bed as usual except you somehow ended up underneath him, as he pounded into you instead of sleeping. “That was...” he’d started to say, stroking up and down your back. “I know,” you’d responded. You didn't want him to talk about it. It was good, so good, but you knew he had feelings for someone else, that girl from the Sand Village. You didn’t want to become just his fuck buddy and you certainly didn't want to catch feelings for someone who was not emotionally available to you. So you’d got dressed and chalked it up to being a one time thing. Until he’d called you the night you returned to the village, and yet again a few days after that. 

The one time thing, was become something of a habit and while you loved it, you’d hated it equally. So tonight was the night you were going to show him how much of a bro you were. Drinking beers, you’d even worn your baggiest jeans and a T-shirt from a Ramen shop from the Hidden Mist that you’d had to buy when a rogue fireball jutsu destroyed your clothes (long story). 

   You wanted to break the ice, get him back to seeing you as “one of the guys”, so naturally... shotgunning challenge. “Ayo, homie, wanna shotgun?” you punched his shoulder lightly for good measure. He accepted, eyebrow raised in confusion but sauntered after you to the back garden. He watched, a smirk on his face while you shook the can, poked the hole, then downed the beer rather quickly. “Now you,” you tossed him the pocket knife so he could poke his can. He repeated your movements exactly until he came to the drinking of the beer. He spit, and choked on the carbonation. He wiped the remnants of the alcohol that dripped from his chin and then looked at you a little embarrassed. He was so cute and the buzz of the alcohol through your blood was just making him cuter. You bit your lip remembering how his hands felt gripping your hips as he whispered for you to cum around his length. “You’re a baby,” you teased trying to push the image from your head. He was amused with your attitude but still tried to defend himself. “Listen, I’m not a big drinker,” he produced a small tin from his pocket, “but I know how to smoke.” 

You watched as he pulled a joint from tin and lit it with his lighter. He inhaled deeply, and you watched as his body relaxed.  When he exhaled, the curls of smoke framed his face and he looked at you with darkened eyes. “Here,” he offered you the joint. You stared at the red hot end and then the tip, the paper slightly wet from his lips. “I guess I’m a baby too then,” you started, “Yeah, you are,” he agreed as his fingertips met your waist. His fingers trailed down to your hips and his grip tightened. Your eyes grew wide and you turned away, “I meant, I was a baby because... I don’t know how to smoke.” He chuckled and placed the joint between his teeth again. “Oh,” he said as he exhaled, “well... do you wanna learn?” You turned back to him, seeing his familiar lustful expression. The alcohol was crippling your already weak resolve. “Yes, teach me.” 

He smiled devilishly and inhaled the joint once again. You were waiting for him to give some sort of instruction but instead, he traced his thumb on your bottom lip which caused you to relax your mouth. With that, he grabbed you by the back of the neck and kissed your open mouth. You felt him exhale the smoke into your mouth and you groaned in pleasure. You sucked the smoke that he gave you and then quickly pushed him away as you choked on the hot, dry air. “Now who's the baby?” he rasped as he watched your crouched form trying to stop coughing. You stood up, far too quickly and stumbled slightly. He caught you arm and pulled you into him. The high was settling in as you noticed his face looked brighter and his eyes more intense. “You’re my baby,” he said as he smirked down at you. You swiped the joint away from him and inhaled deeply. You started to choke again but you held it down. “Don’t say thing like that,” you mumbled. He came behind you and wrapped an arm around your waist. “What? You don’t wanna be my baby?” He took the joint back and inhaled. He spun you around and kissed you again, blowing the smoke into your lungs. You sucked the smoke willingly, trying to ponder what he was getting at. “You wanna be my kitty cat?” You scrunched your face in confusion. He puffed the joint once more and thoughtfully blew out the smoke, “ah, I know, you wanna be my good girl.” You froze. He only called you that when he was balls deep inside you. Your resolve was officially broken as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, your tongues tangling together. “Yes, God, yes, please I wanna be your good girl Shikamaru.” He laughed and pulled you back in the house, winding his way to the guest bedroom. 

“This is the-mmm- last time this happens...” you tried to get out between kisses. He laid you on the bed, “yeah, okay,” he retorted and went back to kissing you. You grabbed his head held his gaze to yours, “I mean it this time.” He sighed and wiggled his head from your grip, moving his kisses to your neck. He kissed up your neck, “but why?” he bit down on your earlobe, “when it feels so fucking good?” He was right, it felt amazing, and the combination of drunk and high had your nerves tingling with every brush of his lips on your skin. His hands trailed down to your thighs and slipped under your dress. His fingers were slipping below the waist band of your panties, your breath hitched in anticipation but he stopped. “If you want this to be the last time then we should stop now.” He sat up, his legs hanging over the bed. “We’re both kinda fucked up and I want you so bad but, if you wanna stop then we should stop now.”  You sat up and crawled into his lap. “I don’t wanna stop... it’s just that, I-I” you high was gonna make you say it. “I like you, as more than my friend and so it’s just hard to do this with you if you don’t-” He stopped you by pulling you on top of him, his hands rubbing up and down your back. “You’re my good girl right?” he asked. You nodded, unsure where he was going with this. “You’re my good girl. All- Fucking- Mine.” 

You moaned at his words which just encouraged him further. He unbuckled his belt while he spoke, “see, the real question right now, before we do anything is do you want to belong to me, because the second I slide my cock inside that tight little pussy, you’re mine, and I am yours, and theres no going back.” He pulled the leather out from his belt loops and tossed it to the floor. You were sure your panties were soaked, the relief you had felt at knowing that he wanted you too had melted down into pure desire. “Make me yours, Shika, please,” you begged reaching for his shoulders. You pulled him closer but he broke free of your grasp. He moved lower before slipping your panties to the side. He plunged his middle finger into your core, “fuck you’re so wet... so what was it hmm?” he growled, “is it cuz’ you’re high? Cuz you like how it feels when I touch you like this?” he was stoking against that one special spot. “Or is it because I fucking own you now?” You groaned in response. “Mmm,  yeah I knew that was it, you wanna be fucking owned don't you?” You mewled in response to the emptiness of him removing his finger. He rubbed small teasing circles around your clit. “I wanna hear you say it,” he growled.  He unbuttoned his pants with his other hand and stroked up and down on his shaft. You could see his dripping cockhead in the low lighting of the room, a small whine of need leaving your lips. “I-I you own me, Shikamaru, I’m yours, all fucking yours.” “Good girl,” he praised as he plunged into your core. 

His cock was thick and it bordered painful as he didn’t give you anytime to adjust to his size, but as he started to thrust your body turned to fire, your high feeding the flames. The white hot orgasm washed over you suddenly and Shikamaru had to hold your leg against his shoulder to steady your shaking form. “Such a good girl, cumming for me so soon, but I know you got more for me,” he growled down at you. His holding of your leg, deepened his thrusts, and each time his cock hit your cervix you were propelled towards your second orgasm. Your mouth hung open in pleasure and drool started to pool on the mattress below. “Gonna milk my cock for me sloppy girl?” You couldn’t respond with full formed words, but instead a series of whines and moans. He moved his thumb down to rub at your clit. “Cum again, right fucking now, I own you now and you’ll cum when I say.”  You came hard around him, crying out, your cunt squeezing around him. “That’s it, that’s a good fucking girl, I’m gonna fill you to the brim as a reward, ” he growled.  His thrusts slowed as he shot hot ropes of cum deep inside you. “You’re all mine,” he cooed as he laid on top of you, kissing your neck softly. “All yours,” you replied sweetly, then cupped his chin with your hand, “and you are mine.” Now, all that’s left to do was leave this party... you were both hoping that everyone else was more fuck up than you both were and hadn’t noticed the sounds of passion coming from the guest room. But the knocking at the door made you both think that was unrealistic. At least you were in it together. 

[conaionaru]

Honor and Blood (IVAR THE BONELESS)

Sound of war

Synopsis: Vanya comes to a realisation and challages Lagertha (again), while the Ragnarssons make plan for revenge. 

Warnings: theorizing, poisons, badass Vanya, mentions of violence

Tags:

@xbellaxcarolinax @queenbeeta @thereareendlessopportunities @chynagirl13 @astridbaby @heavenly1927 @buckysjuicyplums @youbloodymadgenius @didiintheblog @lol-haha-joke @shannygoatgruff  @xvxcarolinexvx @justbecausewecan @lovemesomevesey

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

"I love your father with all my heart, Aros," Vanya whispered to the young Ivarsson in her arms. The toddler giggled at her tired tone and drolled over his fist. "But he can be tiring at times."

Aros giggled once more as his mother marched away from the hut where Sigurd and Ivar were fighting once again. The Ragnarssons were getting stir crazy, and if they don't stop, she might just go grey. What a joke that would be? Grey before twenty.

"I could hit them over the head. Knock them out and enjoy the quiet." Hoenir's gruff voice spoke from behind her as he grumpily glared at the ground. The princes fights keep interrupting him in his much-needed naps to gain back strength.

Vanya snorted and looked at him over her shoulder. "Don't tempt me, Hoenir." The tall Seer chuckled at her halfhearted response.

The plan for today was pretty easy. Gather resources and give them to the people. "Lagertha might see as a threat."

"She sees threats everywhere. I am helping hard-working people in a way that I am more skilled in. I never held a shovel."

"What do you royals do the whole day?"

Vanya smirked and looked at him innocently. "Drink and gossip, of course. Sometimes people get poisoned at dinner."

Hoenir shook his head and looked down at the smaller female. It was cowardly to hide behind poison, especially for a man. Poisons and herbs were woman's work. Speaking of... "Do you know how to poison someone?"

The ginger shook her head and fixed her hold on the giggling toddler. "I would never. It's not a pretty sight to see. I was taught how to do it, but..."

She let the words hang in the air. Not every poison was messy; some were more subtle and untraceable. Sometimes it looked like the person died in their sleep. Like Osmond did... Vanya froze in her step at the realization.

Osmond died after suffering for a long time. Some poisons can have the same effect... But who would do that? Mother? Silas? No, he wouldn't stoop so low. Waiting was more of his thing; without Stithulf, he wouldn't have even gone against Vanya.

But Siflæd was a cunning and ambitious woman. And the years she spent neglected by Osmond made her bolder. After he died, she was allowed to be somewhat happy. In the end, she got everything she wanted from his death. Expect a good new king. Instead, she got Silas.

But would she go that far and poison her own husband? After all, Siflead was schooled in poisons just like Vanya was...

"Are you alright?" Hoenir asked once again, shaking Vanya from her spiral.

She shook her head and smiled at the Seer. "Yeah... I just got lost in my thoughts. Let's got find Brynja and the thralls. We've got work to do."

Vanya walked among the people digging trenches, distributing food from a wooden basket. Hoenir and Brynja walked behind her, the older redhead holding Aros in her arms. Her red curls made him squeal in delight as he tugged at them, to Brynja's great displeasure.

"Here, have some bread." She smiled at the villager who took the loaf with a smile and split it with the woman digging next to him. She was pregnant and looked exhausted. "Hallr!"

The male thrall walked up next to her, ready to do as she asked. "Dig in the woman's place or a while. She looks like she is in desperate need of a break.

"No, Princess!"

"Nonsense! You are pregnant. The baby will thank you." She smiled and watched the man help her sit down to regain some strength, Hallr digging in her place.

Vanya continued, that's till she saw Ubbe in front of her. He was talking to Lagertha. The redhead carried on handing out bread and water till she reached the new Queen that watched Ubbe with hard eyes. Astrid and Torvi stiffened when they saw Hoenir approach behind her.

"Vanya." Lagertha smiled, making the girl's skin crawl. The fake niceness made her wary of the shieldmaiden.

"Bread and water to help you all in your efforts to protect Kattegat." Vanya ignored the greeting and handed her the bread.

"That is very thoughtful of you, Vanya. No wonder I only heard good things about you. It was hard to believe when we got off on the wrong foot."

Vanya laughed the jab off and shook her head, the smile on her lips fake and bittersweet. "I heard great things about you once upon a time too. No matter what kind of person you are, this is a good idea. The walls, I mean."

Lagertha smiled proudly, her back straightening at the praise. "It is nice, we agree. I wish we could better our relationship. If you need help with your son." Her blue eyes trailed to the happy toddler in the back. "I would be happy to give you advice."

Vanya smiled broadly at the Queen, putting her at ease for a moment or two. "I can assure you I learned a lot from Aslaug." The smile turned sour as she glared at Lagertha. "Before you murdered her in cold blood."

Vanya turned on her heel and slammed the wooden basket against Ubbe's chest. "I suppose you are done with her too. Come." She marched off, leaving the three shieldmaidens behind. Torvi tried to stop her and frowned.

"Vanya, please."

The princess shook her head and motioned towards Hoenir, who already had his sword ready. "I hope Asa and Hali are alright and healthy." With that, she marched off.

After a nice relaxing bath, Vanya planned to visit Ivar in the forge and spend some time with him while Aros slept. Hoenir, of course, followed her around like a tall, brooding shadow.

One would think that Vanya would have gotten used to the brother's bickering and fights over the year of marriage. What wishful thinking that was.  

Ivar glared at Sigurd; his axe stopped mid hack by the blacksmith. "What in Odin's name are you two doing?!" She hissed, drawing the axe from her husband's hands.

"Talking," Ivar replied coldly, watching his wife frown at him in dissapointment. And here, she thought she would be the only one to commit fratricide. At this rate, there would be only four Ragnarssons.

"Whoever would have thought that you two were brothers?" The blacksmith's words snapped the brothers from their trance. Sigurd marched off while Ivar sat there brooding and sulking at the same time.

Vanya sighed at their antics and turned on her heel to follow the angry Sigurd. "I do not need a scolding, Vanya! Control your husband."

The redhead huffed and tugged on Sigurd's wrist. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a frown as she glared him down. "I shall put a leash on the both of you! Why can't you just get along for once? Especially now. I know you care for him."

The Ragnarsson rolled his eyes and huffed in his dramatic way. Hoenir stayed behind with Ivar, figuring that Vanya would return when she was finished with Sigurd.

The taller male looked down at Vanya and saw the axe still in her hand. With a tired sigh, he reached towards the weapon to take it away from her. But Vanya pulled her hand back and huffed in frustration.

"Tell me." She insisted.

"I tried to be civil. But Ivar wouldn't take no for an answer. So I lashed out." Gods, why must men be so feral? Why can't they just give each other the cold shoulder and be done with it?

"What did he say?"

"Shouldn't you be more interested in what I said? Protecting your husband's honor and all? You have been doing that a lot lately. Playing guard dog doesn't suit you, Sister."

Vanya rolled her eyes at his harsh remark. "Ivar's honor doesn't need protecting. He is capable of doing that himself, obviously. What I want to do is defuse the situation before we have to bury you too."

"It was about Mother." Aaah. Well, that explains it. "He doesn't like that don't mourn her. She ignored all of us. She raised Ubbe and Hvitserk just fine, giving them happy childhoods. All I had was a year with her and Father. And then Ivar came along. And that cripple was all she cared about. Ubbe raised me more than she did."

Vanya's eyes softened, and she released her grip on his wrist. "I get why you are angry. And why revenge doesn't interest you-"

"Why should it?! Father abandoned us all. The people and his family. All Mother had was the memory of Harbard, duties, alcohol, and Ivar. I don't see the need to avenge either of them. You and Ivar both see her as some perfect image. Even Ubbe thinks her a mediocre mother. I am the only one not blinded by lies!"

He seethed, the snake eye looking like it was pulsating. The redhead watched him with sad eyes. "Just because I loved Aslaug as a mother doesn't mean that I don't get what you are feeling."

Their eyes met, and Sigurd shook his head, a confused look on his face. "You mourn her. You want revenge for her."

"For Aslaug, yes. Because she was nice to me. But if it were my mother..." She let the words hang in the air, Sigurd understanding what she wanted to say. "But this isn't just about revenge or parents. I worry for you."

"I am fine."

Vanya scoffed and pointed the axe at him. "Because the blacksmith stopped the axe from slicing your throat! What if he wasn't there? You two fight like dogs, and how long before one of you dies, and we have to bury another family member?"

"Stop worrying, Vanya."

"NO!" The musician stared at her wide-eyed. "You, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Ivar and Aros are all I have. You are my family, and I don't know what I would do without any of you. Especially you."

He swallowed and tried to calm her down. "Vanya..."

"We may butt heads because of Ivar. But I care for you. You have a gentle soul."

"Vikings don't have souls."

"A gentle heart then! And a brilliant mind! What a waste it would be if you died so young. Only because you keep egging him on. I can try to keep him calm, but I won't be there all the time. And I worry that one day I will get the news that one of you died."

Sigurd sighed and pulled his sister-in-law into a hug. "I will try. But I make no promises." She chuckled at his humor and sent him off.

When she returned to their hut, Ivar was sitting on the bed, sulking. Vanya sighed and sat down next to him, but he refused to acknowledge her. She understood his jealousy, but it was unnecessary.

She loved Ivar, not Sigurd, and Aros was the proof of that. Never before was Ivar bothered by her relationship with his older brother. After all, since the wedding, they were her brothers as well. She saw them as nothing more, and yet, Ivar decided to act out now and ignore her.

Was it the fact that she ran after Sigurd, or that she looked disappointed before she did it? What was she supposed to do? Look proud that he nearly murdered his brother? After all the times she stood up to the snake-eyed Viking, Ivar had the nerve to get jealous! The insecurities were there before, but normally it led to talks, not to brooding.

Some reasons were the fact that Sigurd liked to mock his ability to walk or his temper. Another reason was the fact that Sigurd was originally supposed to be her husband. If it wasn't for Ivar's disability, that is. Silas saw potential in Sigurd's eye being seen as a symbol of the devil. And any child born with that eye would be a devil spawn and rejected to the crown. But Ivar's condition was a better choice, and so Silas chose him.

As if Vanya had no choice in staying with Ivar. She could have divorced him and married Sigurd instead. But Vanya didn't love Sigurd. Instead, she chose Ivar despite all his faults. They were lovable to her, but at times like these, she questioned her patience.

"You have no reason to be angry with me."

"I am not angry." Right, and the cold shoulder and pout were a sign of utter adoration and attention.

Vanya rolled her eyes and laid Aros down in his bed. "I am not angry either. A little bit disappointed but not shocked. I expected it, but I still hate that it nearly happened."

Ivar sighed and turned to watch her bent over their son's crib. "Sigurd brings out the worst in me."

"I can see that. But you could try to restrain yourself from time to time. He is your brother, and he isn't Silas. Your feud with him is different from mine with Silas. That doesn't make it less important, but you shouldn't let yourself be controlled by anger. There are consequences for murdering someone!"

"Yes, banishment. I know."

"And guilt. You two can claim that you hate each other, but I see the love there. I see that some parts of you worry for each other. Don't throw that away just because you both act like children."

She stood up and walked towards him. Sitting down in his lap, Vanya smiled at him softly. "If not for yourself, then do it for me and my gentle heart."

"There is nothing fragile or gentle about you, Min dyrebare (My precious). You have a kind heart, but you also have a strong spirit." Vanya smiled so brightly like the sun that it made Ivar freeze. Never was her smile so happy and breathtaking.

"Flattery gets you nowhere, Ivar." She teased, swaying her hips over his lap. Well, so much to that. Flipping them both over, Ivar got to kissing a trail down her neck. The fire in the fireplace cracked soundly as the room filled with noises of pleasure.

Vanya laid under Ivar, panting as she watched his dark blue eyes stare down at her with the usual shine to it. His eyes were always her favorite part of him, so deep, mysterious, and powerful. The sweat on her skin felt uncomfortable, but his sweet sounds and gentle touches put her at her ease.

The gods gave her many challenges in her path, Ivar being one of them. But if he wasn't her favorite challenge. "Faster!"

[bubmyg]

a coastal cabaret - pjm

pairing: jimin x reader

warnings: very very loosely inspired by the movie footloose, fluff, angst, major character death (prior to the events in which the fic details), death mention, themes of grief and loss, hoseok is the lovable best friend (i based him off willard if you’ve seen the movie lol), probably incorrect boat terminology 

word count: 14,761

summary: sometimes an outside perspective is all that’s needed for the tragic events of the past to transform into something beautiful or the one where hoseok can’t dance and jimin is determined to keep the smile on your face.

a/n: six weeks in the making and she’s here...be gentle to me pls (also it’s definitely not necessary to have seen the movie to read this fic!!! i very loosely based the premise off the movie)

There was a tiny boat at the end of the dock, red with white stripes and a fanned awning suspended over the bench seats, five to a row, the sixth where the driver rests. The paint has been ruined over the years and seasons, bubbled in places, chipped in others, stained from the sun until it’s essentially burnt orange while the white becomes a dirty beige. There’s stickers altering the paint too, sponsorships and advertisers that both literally and figuratively keep the boat and business afloat. 

A bright yellow sticker for the surf shop up the coast even if the only viable surfing location is over an hour in the next town over. A cartoon shrimp with a speech bubble announcing the new chain seafood restaurant parked up the shore in, to the untrained eye, what looks like a sand dune. A years old logo for the tourist boat company taking the brunt of the aging, missing entire letters, not the same one screen printed on the limited edition t-shirts hanging off the rental barn or proudly pasted to the upgraded yachts parked as the boat’s neighbors.

Upgrades a last ditch effort to save the crippling effects of mass media on the town. The sea water seemed to swallow the efforts along with a few hundred thousand dollars and a few tacky letters pasted on the side of the last family owned boat. 

Se Bre ze Bo ts. 

Jimin noted the waxed sheen off the bobbing machinery, marveling how such a thing could float when he was led past it, two, three, until there was no room left on the dock (in theory, he could have tested the water proof quality of his new shoes) and he was left with the sad rock of Ang l. 

“And last but not least, the chariot,” Hoseok beamed, a wide sweeping move of his hand, palm up, presenting the boat and in the limited interaction Jimin had entertained with the red haired boy, he had every assumption to think he wasn’t being at all sarcastic. 

Jimin scuffed his toe into the dock, wary to the creaks that emitted from that boat alone and he mumbled to the tiny school of baby fish that crowded around the supports, “...so that’s it?”

Hoseok laughed, a loud sound in the otherwise serene coastline, clasping a cupped hand over Jimin’s shoulder. “Keep them clean and we shouldn’t have any issues. That’s the extent of your duties. I don’t expect you to take the first group out tomorrow morning or anything, of course—” He tottered onto one foot, leaning into Jimin with a wrinkled dimple pressed into his cheek, “—...now the five o’clock…”

“Scare him off and you can go back to cleaning my baby for me.”

 You paid no mind to the men in your path, cruising past their sandal clad feet to make it to your baby, otherwise known to Jimin as the saddest boat tethered to the dock. The bob of your head disappeared when you crossed onto the tiny paths jutting between the boats, a tiny rope in comparison to its tethered object your vice to drag it closer, legs stretching as you stepped and hoisted yourself until you were afloat with it, too. 

Hoseok smacked Jimin’s torso, gesturing toward your figure as you hobbled about the front of the boat, collecting the damp rope with you as you went, as if to say are you seeing this? A ludicrous expression saturated in amusement for Hoseok’s friend. 

Jimin didn’t have the pleasure of acquaintance.

“Jimin!” He called, an introduction in the way he formulated the words and offered a wave of his hand in greeting while the latter tucked into the pocket of his shorts. 

A grunt and then a name, yours he presumed, floated over the side of the boat until your head popped up again, holding entirely more rope in your grasp than before. 

“I’m about to do the nightly run,” You lifted your eyebrows, stance firm and even with the elevated stance the boat put you on in perspective to the two figures on the dock. “Are you two coming with?”

Another smack to his torso and Jimin audibly oofed this time, rubbing at the spot Hoseok’s knuckles had struck. “What do you say, new guy?” Hoseok chirped, smile only growing when the newcomer’s stanch gaze flickered to the corner of his eyes, “If not, you’re free to go. I have nothing else to show you—”

Jimin brushed past Hoseok, copying your movements, less gracefully albeit, to hoist himself up onto the side of the boat, dropping down with two feet into the depths of the machine. Hoseok came not long after, a purposeful scramble meant for comedic purposes that you nor Jimin laughed at but he smiled enough for everyone, anyway. You were elbow deep in reeling the anchor in, anyway, your stature giving away some mention between struggle and practiced ease but Jimin’s instinct went with the first, anyway, striding forward with outstretched palms. 

“Here, let me help you with that—”

There was a series of mechanical clicks in the same moment, a groaning of the same fashion, all while you’d pulled your labor away from the manual wheel to turn to him with a bemused expression. 

Amusement danced in the wave of your irises, the sea flickering in your expression as you nodded, “Thanks anyway.”

Somewhere among Hoseok’s monolog about the best breakfast cafe in the town and the adjustment to being out on the calm evening sea, Jimin found himself focusing on the silhouette of your figure, black outline detached like the clench of your jaw and the rigidity of your first impression. Jimin wasn’t much for those anyway, intrigued by what would commonly be seen as a negative “first”. 

He’d been so focused on the mundaneness that was the back and forth of your hands on a series of controls he couldn’t make out beyond a shaded sun screen that he’d missed when you’d idled the boat far off the shore, only jerking to reality when you stepped off the elevated platform with a raised eyebrow in his direction. 

The quirk of Jimin’s lips didn’t deter your prolonged stare, and neither did Hoseok’s loud announcement, your gaze only dropping when you plopped into a seat adjacent from him and accepted a condensation ridden can from Hoseok’s outstretched arm. Then it was a double take and scrunched confusion that met your expression, eyeing the logo on the aluminum before setting a glare on the side of Hoseok’s face. 

“Where the hell did you get these?”

Hoseok shrugged, already fingernail deep in popping the tab on his beer can and taking a generous swig. He placed his aside, reaching elbow deep in an under seat cooler to present Jimin with one as well, something the younger boy dismissed with a soft smile.  

“Up the coast. I have a life outside of saving your ass from the high tide, believe it or not.”

You were still fuming even as you opened it, “And how did you get these on my boat?”

Hoseok winked in Jimin’s direction, “On a whim that you’d be taking the boat out tonight. Like you do every night…”

Your sip was tiny in comparison to the swallow Hoseok had downed, gently placing the can aside, “You could have got us killed, you know that right? What if Namjoon had came down to the dock for a surprise inspection?—”

“I don’t mean to be insensitive but…” Jimin lounged forward in the seat he occupied, elbows pressing into his thighs, “It’s just beer?”

He caught you freeze in his peripheral, stature rigid where it was once relaxed and you coughed, casting your gaze aside to fingers that began to desperately fiddle with each other. 

Hoseok answered instead, quipped and short, “There’s an alcohol ban within the town limits.”

An awkward silence passed, one Jimin didn’t challenge in the gentle sway of sea water against the side of the boat, an echoing noise where the same motion lapped onto the shore, a gentle push and pull of sand that mirrored the swirl of questions in his conscious, none of which sounded proper on the press of his tongue to the roof of his mouth so he stayed silent to the waves and scratch of your fingernail against the leather of the seat you perched in. 

“So, new guy,” You spoke first, the slump of your stature inconsistent with the volume of your voice and he ignored the slight tremble in the upturn of your lips, “What brings you to this sleepy town?”

“After graduation, I decided to travel,” Jimin swallowed into picking at the hem of his shorts, “The easy answer is I ran out of money so I ended up here.”

Hoseok inquiry was straightforward this time, “What did you study?”

“Dance. Contemporary and modern mostly,” He laughed, unwillfully bitter, “A useless arts degree, I know.”

“Not useless,” You spoke again to the unraveled thread on the sewn edges of the leather seat you perched in.

Hoseok was louder, “Useless here, though.”

Jimin shrugged at the implication, shouldering the sentiment he’d had spoken much worse and with harsher insinuations than a virtual stranger teasing him on a boat in the middle of a coastal sea. Hoseok’s quick tone change from playful back to serious had Jimin quirking an eyebrow. 

“I don’t think you understand. You won’t ever be needing that here,” Hoseok flicked his index and middle fingers back and forth so that the friction was audible, “Alcohol ban goes hand in hand with a dance ban.”

Jimin laughed. Genuinely, a loud, single syllable sound that pitched him forward over his knees. He sobered when he straightened to two expressions, one glassier than the other. “Oh, you’re serious?”

“Public, organized dancing,” You supplied, tight lipped to his ignorance, “Public organized events, mostly.”

Softer, Jimin amended this time, “But why?” 

You stiffened again, same as before but looser in a sense, one knee coming to curl to your chest as you turned away from him, supporting the lean of your torso into the back of the seat. His lips parted to dismiss his question, say it didn’t matter, but Hoseok jumped in with a short explanation that ran guilt into Jimin’s blood. 

“There was an accident a few years ago. On one of the boats,” Hoseok pressed his thumb and index finger into the sides of the can he held, gently popping the aluminum in and out while his chin pressed into his shoulder, “The town council members felt it would be best. Prevention of it ever happening again…”

Jimin swallowed the slew of questions on his tongue perfect for this silence to instead say, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright,” Hoseok seemed to perk up a bit then, “I’m surprised Namjoon didn’t advertise it to you in a neon poster board when you arrived.” 

Your voice, softer, broke Jimin’s heart for a reason unknown to him but he decided that anything that saturated your spirit like that was worth protecting from you. 

“Nothing you could have done, anyway.”

Jimin felt silly on the seventh day of reckoning with himself, white wires haphazardly tangled in the cradle of his palm while bare feet paced away a trail of already chipped paint on the creaky front porch of his house. He wasn’t a one man festival complete with an organized dance floor. All he had in his fridge was water, refilled from the tap bottles because he hadn’t located a store to buy more, yet. 

Instead, he was one man with his favorite playlist and an itch in his muscles that he’d stretched but hadn’t sated. 

“It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong,” He told himself a bit too loudly to the tropical overhang of trees on the awning of his porch. He told the cusp of his earbuds next as he shoved them into his ears, still staring hard at the open playlist on his phone screen. 

“Fuck it.”

The curl of plump green leaves flicking against the roof of the house acted in accordance to the early morning breeze, one that brought gentle rains up off the sea and doused the concrete in a thin sheen a hue darker than normal but it wasn’t light enough yet to notice, anyway. Jimin turned his motions into more than mental productivity, twisting a cheap broom he’d found in a hall closet like some exotic mixture of a ballroom partner and a baton, cleaning away leaves and crumbs from the eggs he’d downed with a bent fork and the small puddles of water that had curled onto the edges where the awning didn’t protect. 

His dance turned inside, a shadow against the one light he left on while his senses guided the rest, a delicate story told against the half open shutters lining the far side of his house, the one that faced his only neighbor. His playlist carried him through the narrative just as the pointed step of his trained art elicited feeling, one that had him smiling by the time he shrugged the thick strap of his duffel bag over his shoulder and all but skipped out onto the broken, cobblestone pathway to mount his bike. 

The quiet neighbor watched from their own porch, a fond smile plastered on their lips as Jimin’s figure descended into the rising shadows of dawn, a tear tracking their cheek in some sort of nostalgic longing that roused a smile just as joyful in their sorrow as Jimin’s. 

A debate on whether or not to play music through wire earbuds and dance to a beat that was most definitely not open for public gathering seemed silly when it had easily built itself into Jimin’s routine by the third day, never mind the seventh. He shuffled his playlist, a new crescendo carrying him down the length of the dock as he shimmied, stretched, polished his way into preparing the docks for the day ahead. His unsolicited crimes were hidden, boats gone like missing pieces of a Jenga puzzle that were never meant to fall by the time he repented his shift, striding back up the slowly busying dock with his phone and earbuds shoved in the depths of his shorts pocket. 

Perhaps he’d pondered over the ridiculous thought that he’d be thrown out of the town for good for dancing on the front porch of the house he, by all intents and purposes, owned by means of a security deposit that drained the last of his funds for a half second too long, but he’d failed to escape up the coast line to his tiny waiting station before someone had creaked gentle footsteps in his peripheral. 

Jimin jerked his headphones from his ears, leaving a searing pain in their wake but it was a soft giggle that soothed it, one that belonged to you where you stood a few yards away. The gold nameplate pinned over the embroidered logo of the boat service shop crinkled where your arms folded over your chest, one eyebrow cocked underneath the white visor perched on your forehead. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to arrest you,” You held up two hands as if to prove your point, the soft smile still there on your lips. 

He visibly relaxed but continued in his quest to ball the wires in a massive tangle and shove them in the depths of his pocket. He added, anyway, “Sorry.”

“For what? Having fun while you work?” You brushed past him to your boat, “It’s something a few people around here could and should take notice of.”

It was an unspoken dismissal but Jimin froze in place anyway, watching as you climbed aboard, a different set of procedures following your own routine as you busied about the inside of the boat, a different set than he’d witnessed when you’d taken him and Hoseok out on his first week. Week two and he had no greater grasp on you, only after sharing fleeting glances throughout the workday from where he sat and barely moved on the unoccupied area of the beach. 

“By the way—” You spoke right when Jimin moved to flee, freezing his muscles and he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, “—I’m sorry that I was so short with you the other night.”

He relaxed into a shrug, “S’alright.”

“It’s not something we, Hoseok or I...expect you to understand,” You seemed to ponder your own words, leaning against the railing of the boat, “After the...accident, the tourism went down drastically. The entire town nearly had to sellout. It was a really scary time.”

“I’m not saying the ‘rules’ aren’t stupid—” You shot him a look, “—because they are. Just...things are finally looking stable again. So it’s hard to want to...change that. I guess.”

“The annual town festival isn’t worth losing everything I have, you know,” You smiled, pushing yourself up off the railing, “Or...you know. Having a beer occasionally. Or having to get approval to have a DJ at weddings. Or literally anything fun.”

You laughed so Jimin laughed too, nodding simply to you. “Understood, it’s okay.”

There’s more to it that you’re not telling me. 

“You’re not doing anything wrong, by the way. Dance all you want. Play your music out loud. Bring a radio, if you want—” You winked at you tossed a thick, pleated rope over your shoulder, “—I’ll cover for you if they send Namjoon down here.”

Jimin laughed again, dropping his chin this time. “Well, thank you—” He squinted into the quickly rising sun, “Although I’m not entirely sure they make radios anymore, so that might be a bit difficult to find but...I’m up for the challenge.”

“Perfect,” You hesitated in your step backward on the boat, “I’ll see you later then?”

Later meant on his front porch, knuckles jostling the loose screen door that laid gently over the entrance to the house, never latched just like the heavier inside door was never shut. You were bent at the waist, squinting through the netted black when Jimin slid around the corner of the hallway, frantic confusion turning to amusement when his presence startled you and you nearly dropped the plate held delicately in one hand. 

“Hey neighbor,” You greeted, stepping back for him to push open the screen, “Brought a late housewarming gift.”

Jimin cocked an eyebrow, gentle in letting you transfer the plate from your grasp to his. A pile of homemade cookies, stacked in a neat, crumpled pyramid about each other. “Neighbor, huh?”

You gestured for the house, the only one. “Correct, that would be my house…”

“Ah. Why haven’t I seen you until now?”

“We have different schedules, new guy,” You softened when he shot you an apologetic look, “I got off early today. Chance of storms later.”

“You can call me Jimin, you know,” He twisted, placing the plate on the rickety end table plopped between two lawn chairs, faded and unraveled threads dangling sadly from underneath. 

“New guy is more fun,” You perked up, taking a seat in one of the lawn chairs before he could offer, “Wait, I’ve got it. Ducky.” 

His cheeks pinked as he took a seat adjacent from you, “...Jimin will be just fine.”

You nodded, fingertips plucking into the plastic wrap over the cookies to retrieve one of the crumpled halves. You plopped a sizable bite onto your tongue, lifting an eyebrow, “...alright, ducky.”

Jimin watched you munch down the cookie half, watched you hesitate into grabbing it’s forgotten twin and nibble half of it before he blurted, “Would you, uh…like to stay for dinner?”

You took your time in finishing off the cookie, lawn chair creaking the porch when you turned toward him, ludicrous expression plastered firm to your features, “Hey! That’s not fair. I came over here with treats, I should be cooking you dinner. A...town warming dinner. Is that a thing?”

“Too late, I already asked.”

“Fine,” Begrudgingly, you pushed yourself up off the chair, eyes closing as you held out your wrists, palms up, “Lead me to the food.”

He let you stand there until your eyes opened to regard his sheepish expression, leaning forward to press his elbows into his thighs, “...one problem. I have close to no food.”

“Oh, that’s all that’s wrong?” Your rigid stance relaxed, reaching out to grab his wrist to haul him up, “Come on. I mean...if you think you can keep up with me?”

Jimin didn’t scoff until you were more than a dozen yards ahead of him on a gentle incline, coasting while he was struggling to the rotation on the petals of his bike. “Where are you taking me?” He labored when the ground finally evened out, allowing himself to collapse onto the tiny seat underneath him. 

“Farmer’s market,” You slowed to allow him to catch up, grinning at the slight sheen of sweat that had begun to form underneath black fringe, “You know. Fruits and vegetables.”

“Really? I thought it was entirely processed junk food.”

Jimin caught a glimpse of your eye roll before you were tired of humoring him, speeding off to the tune of his amused laughter. 

It appeared to be closing time at the miniature farmer’s market, a tiny collection of tents set up on the far side of the coast. A lanky, brown haired man with a crumpled apron tied haphazardly across his front worked at folding up one of the card tables, one that appeared to have previously held woven baskets filled with various colored apples. Those baskets sat in the weird mixture of sand and grass that encompassed the ground farther up from the seaside while a tiny, fluffy dog wove in and out of them, periodically yipping upward at the man who talked back in an equal tone, as if having a casual conversation about the winds gradually picking up over the water. 

“Tae!” You left your bike against a tree, jogging up to the startled man while Jimin, wobbling albeit, tried to control the tires of his bike as the terrain changed. He managed to hop off though, being intercepted by the tiny dog rather than you or the ever mysterious Tae. 

“Tannie!” A rich baritone scolded yet held no real authoritative power. The dog seemed to think so as well, barely flinching at the call when Jimin crouched, stretching gentle fingers out for the dog to butt his head against. 

“He’s alright,” Jimin soothed his owner quietly, scratching behind the boisterous Pomeranian's ears for a split second before a hand was thrust in the way. Jimin squinted at it, following the line of the exposed forearm up to the smiling eyes of the farmer, geometric smile pasted on the bottom half of his face as he nodded for his hand again. 

“Taehyung.”

Jimin shook his hand once, letting the momentum carry him to a standing position that had his knees cracking in protest. “Jimin.”

“Ah, the new guy down at the dock—” Taehyung glanced at you when you snorted, “—you’re renting that empty vacation house of the town’s, right?”

Jimin couldn’t help but think of the nest of spiders he’d found in the bottom drawer of the century old dresser in his room on the second day. Vacation house. 

Only then did he realize he was still gripping Taehyung’s hand, something he promptly dropped before coughing, “Uh. Yeah.”

“Neighbors then, huh?” Taehyung cocked an eyebrow, fulling looking at you where you were preoccupied fishing through a container of tomatoes.

“He’s supposed to be cooking for me tonight,” You jabbed an accusing finger, tomato, in Jimin’s direction, playful smile still on your lips, “But he has not a singular vegetable in his possession.”

“He’s cooking for you?” Taehyung accused while you bagged a few tomatoes, moving on to the greenery scattered about, “Shouldn’t you be cooking him a housewarming meal? Or like...a town warming meal?”

“We’ve already had this discussion,” Jimin provided softly, “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

Taehyung just laughed, starting out with a hand clasping his shoulder before moving to wrapping his entire arm around Jimin, leaning into him while you continued to gather supplies. “So what’s your story?” He said finally, letting some of his weight off of Jimin. 

Jimin shrugged, “Broke college student turned broke graduate decided to travel and ran out of money. Ended up here…”

“What’s your degree in?” 

Jimin considered a plethora of things as a masterful lie. One that would avoid a variety of stems in which the conversation could go. He could say something in technology and avoid the useless degree lecture. He could say something in writing and avoid the there’s no dancing here lecture. He could tell the truth and gauge the reaction that was generally more favorable from those who were around his age but still lived in a town that outlawed virtually all organized events on the basis of an elusive ‘accident’.  

Instinct made him answer quietly, “Dance. Contemporary mostly.”

An entire other limb, one that grew haphazardly from the trunk of the tree and threaded upward into a ridiculous, jagged shape, came from Taehyung’s mouth, not something that was even in the realm of what Jimin imagined. 

“Oh!” Taehyung called your name quietly, clapping his hands together, “Another dancer! That’s what you wanted to do! Contemporary too—”

Jimin’s moment of elation died into a nauseating sickness when your stature had froze much like it had those handful of nights ago, the hand not holding onto a bag of produce reaching out to dig your fingernails deep into the plastic of the table. 

When you turned around, Jimin tried gently, “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s because it’s in the past. Wanted, past tense,” You began tying a knot in the plastic bag in your grasp, frantic and jerky in your movements, “Not anymore.”

There was a similar sympathetic smile to Taehyung’s features as there had been one of stone on Hoseok’s, rolling his lips inward as his throat bobbed harshly. “Beautiful, nonetheless. I remember the showcases you used to put on down at the dock.”

“Muscles don’t quite move like that anymore,” You diverted this time with a tight lipped smile, one that didn’t even try to reach your eyes as you finished the knot, “How much do I owe you for this?”

Taehyung dropped it, squinting when the wind picked up in that moment, “You don’t owe me a thing if you help Tannie and I pack up before the storm rolls around.”

Jimin jumped into action to divert his thoughts away from the look you kept casting him, somewhere between regret, fear, and unadulterated sadness. 

He’d brushed his teeth three times since you’d descended the rickety steps of his porch to trek the short distance through the drizzling rain to your house yet, somehow, there was still bits of the seasoning fermented in the honey colored salad dressing you’d dollaped en mass over freshly washed lettuce leaves. The tiny black flecks on their own were foul, spreading in the back of his molars where he’d dug one out with the natural lay of his tongue, one that made him stop with rag in hand to grossly spit onto the dock. He smudged it with his shoe, wrist wiping at his lips while the disgust mulling on his facial features lingered, momentary pause causing his conscious to squint up the dock, thoughts scattered into the prior evening. 

So it was only fitting that you emerged in that moment, as if an apparition from the misted droplets clinging to the grasses on the shore. 

“Ducky! Slacking off?”

Jimin’s first instinct was to scramble because well, kind of, and if his routine was lacking so where you’d already appeared, he was most definitely behind. He jerked a singular headphone out as a first precaution. But the dramaticized mist cleared to reveal your soft smile, chin tucked into the zipper of your jacket as you paused in front of him. 

“Always,” He answered anyway, blackened taste of something burnt forgotten where it still festered underneath his tongue. 

You scuffed your foot into the dock, balled fists shoving into your jacket pockets. “I had a good time last night, by the way,” Another pass of your foot, toe heel, “You’re not a half bad cook.”

“Thank you. I had a good time too…” It was Jimin’s turn to duck his head, eyeing the frayed threads on the rag he clutched in increasingly white knuckles. His fist didn’t clench because he was lying but rather the bubbling question resting on the tip of his tongue, one he’d suppressed since leaving Taehyung with all his produce neatly packed into the shaded back of his truck right as the rain began. 

Kind of like media outlets who focus on one relatively small aspect of a much larger concept simply because it’s inherently negative. Jimin’s question was inherently negative, instead contextually negative based solely on the reaction you’d given Taehyung when he’d brought it up. 

And evidently, Jimin was a shitty reporter. 

“So you used to dance, huh?” He kept his tone soft, leaving infliction open for you to take. You could deny him. You could dismiss him. He really didn’t care if you ignored him. He just had to get it out. Quieter, he added, “I didn’t know that.”

You laughed, the opposite reaction that Jimin was preparing himself for, and he tracked your eyes as they swept over your feet. “You’d have no reason to know,” A sigh set your shoulders, allowing you to raise your gaze to his, “I quit not long after the...the accident.”

“It just seemed fitting you know,” You shrugged, arms lifting where your fists still sat deep in your pockets, “I mean you know what I’m talking about. Contemporary isn’t exactly the same thing elicited by a few beers and some fluorescent lights.”

Jimin laughed but stayed silent, nodding quietly for you to continue. 

“I had a scholarship. To get out of here...that’s what I was going to do after the tourist season ended. But after everything that happened here, from the incident itself—” You swallowed, tilting your head back slightly, “—from that, to the media coverage that made the town nearly desolate, to going into the off season with far less profit than we normally garnered. It didn’t feel right to leave my town like that.”

“I understand,” Jimin murmured.

“No, you don’t,” You laughed again, just as genuine, “You probably think I’m an idiot.”

“Far from it,” He assured. 

A lingering silence ensued, one that had you scuffing your opposite foot this time. “Well...that’s my sap story about why I don’t dance any longer, so…”

You trailed off when Jimin extended a hand in your direction. He wiggled his fingers when you gaped, free appendage working at yanking his headphones from his phone, attention focused to navigate to a different playlist while he regarding you with a lopsided smile and one quirked eyebrow. 

It was something instrumental that filtered from his phone speakers, a piece he’d done for an assignment in college yet still had stored away in the depths of his music library. It was just eerie enough to curl into the fog that slowly began to lift over the sea, opening up to the heat of the day that began to rouse coastal wildlife into action, singing in crescendo over the melodies. 

“You think you’ve still got it?” 

It was the first instance that Jimin hadn’t seen you hesitate in the face of something that seemed to scare you, immediate in sliding your palm to his and squeezing. 

“We’ll see I guess,” You taunted, gliding closer to him at the pull of his arm, a playful glint shining in dawned irises, “Won’t we?”

Jimin grinned as you began to move at the extent of his forearm, leg curling outward into a purposeful movement that elicited musicality he heard too in the rouse of the music curling outward from his phone in his pocket. You stayed connected until the last possible moment, falling at the contract of your muscles into a turned out squat, gliding in front of him and then straightening on the farthest side, arms connecting into the next movement as something trilled in the music. 

It was the same sort of improvisation that carried the remainder of your movements, leaving Jimin in awe of the way your body curled into the melody only for half an eight count more before he was moving with you, twisting in such a way that made his foot slide from the slip on shoes curled on his heels but he took no mind, foot connecting at his knee, torso arching the opposite direction, following the dying crescendo of movement. 

You connected your touch to him once more, curling two forearms over the flat of his back where he’d bent at the waist before trailing crawled fingertips up the expanse of his forearm, latching first to his wrist with a beat in the music and then taking his hand on another, harsher, beat. He tugged you closer at the contact, one hand gripping both your hands, the later sliding around your waist to press a stabilizing palm into the small of your back. The lull of your head came, falling away from the beat of the music as you rose to look at him, not quite a smile but bliss nonetheless plastered to the part of your mouth.  

Jimin smiled, though. 

He deposited one of your hands onto the round of his shoulder, keeping his tight grip on the later as he began to move you in gentle circles to whatever the next song on his playlist was, something slow and with words that he vaguely recognized from popular radio play a few years prior. 

“I think you’ve still got it,” Jimin softly encouraged when a laugh caused your gaze to fall away from him, forehead nearly pressing into his shoulder as you gripped harder to his hand. 

“Eh,” He saw you smile no matter how you tried to hide it, “You’re not a half bad partner, ducky.”

There were footsteps on the dock in the next moment, ones that overpowered the music Jimin had reached to turn down in his pocket, music he now rushed to silence. Instinctively, he held you closer, squinting up the wood path. The footsteps were simultaneously too loud and too quiet to be Hoseok. They were too purposeful as well, slapping and consistent with the sound of flip flops as it grew closer until Jimin finally froze at the familiar face approaching at a ridiculous pace. 

You glanced up from Jimin’s shoulder when there was a tripping sound, the front of Namjoon’s flip flop catching on a protruding wood board but it didn’t stall his advancements by much, pausing a safe distance in front of you with two hands perched on his hips. 

Namjoon was struggling to find the words for you, attention darting to you where he scuffed the tattered sole of his canvas shoes into the wood, one curled fist in his pocket and then back out, as if he weren’t even aware of Jimin’s presence. Hesitant leg movements brought him a few steps closer, before he said lowly, “You should probably get to work.”

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” You countered, making no movement to budge from Jimin’s hold. 

The older man held up two hands, taking an equal step back, “I didn’t say you were, love—”

“Then why did they send you down here?”

Namjoon stared hard now from underneath the cap of the white hat shoved onto messy black tendrils. His free hand joined the latter in the depths of his short pockets, rocking back onto his heels and Jimin could spy the surface of his tongue searching the tops of his molars for a response. 

“They didn’t,” He said finally, carefully, like he’d plucked the obvious lie like a piece of corn from between his teeth. 

“Joon,” You pushed yourself from Jimin, taking two steps in front of him and he couldn’t see your face any longer but your voice grew softer instead, “You—”

“Please, just...separate. They’ll come down here if you don’t and it’s almost opening time,” Namjoon looked frightened now, a far cry from the assured monologue that had informed Jimin of the basics on the steps of his front porch. 

You didn’t turn until Namjoon’s flip flops clacked safely off the deck into the sand pathway, solemn smile not quite meeting your eyes as you shrugged. 

“Guess party time is over.”

Jimin watched as you almost robotically moved for the boat, your boat, one foot bobbing in the sea when he called with clenched fists, “Who’s they?” 

There was a lack of filter in your voice, blunt as you snorted, “The town officials—” You hoisted yourself fully into the boat, speaking to your work rather than to him, “—the ones who created this whole mess.”

“...they’re watching us?”

You pointed haphazardly over your shoulder, shrugging as you began to curl a rope from out of the water, “Town hall building is up the shore—” A heave in your voice as you dragged the rest of the damp twine into a messy pile underneath your knees, “—you know, so they can watch their biggest source of income fail day in and day out.”

“Or they were just tired of seeing me move around like a dead fish,” You tried to lighten the mood when you turned to him, an easy smile on your lips, “...no one’s seen me do that in years so...it doesn’t surprise me that they got worried.”

Jimin stifled his worried about what? when you waved. “See you later?”

The man just nodded, watching as your smile grew fainter. 

“...see you.”

The incident with Namjoon lingered somewhere just on the inside of Jimin’s conscious the longer his work continued through the season, partially because of it’s implications, mostly because of your blunt yet empty words, words he didn’t quite have a grasp on. It was a topic everyone quite literally danced around, draping the unaware stranger like Jimin in a darkness that mirrored that coating the entire town. It was your lipped their biggest source of income that resonated the highest and the easiest with Jimin’s spinning conscious, something he acknowledged yet came to see as fact the longer he stationed himself on the shore throughout the day. 

Business was seemingly non existent, your boat trips, specifically designed to take tourists on extensive, historical journeys of the beautiful seasides, full but few and far between from the schedule of potential times hung from the front boat house; Hoseok’s boat trips, designed for fishing, to find the best pockets where men in cheap sun hats purchased from Taehyung’s day time flea market style stalls could take one coveted picture with a giant bass before eventually letting the creature free, barely making the cut to plausibly allow the boat to pull away from its tether. 

It was as though all the money went into paying the metaphorical security cameras, the lavish town building up the shore coated in a fine layer of fresh stone, paying the salary of the camera lens’ themselves, the three men Jimin had only garnered fleeting glimpses of as black blurs crossing to and from a small parking lot just outside the grey, hazed building. 

Because there certainly weren’t literal security cameras. There were barely rags for Jimin to use to clean that wouldn’t get the surfaces dirtier than they had been before touched by dirty soaked cloth. Maintenance arose daily, a piling list that the contractor repair man, Jeongguk, a lanky, tattooed twenty something fresh from trade school who was rarely seen with a shirt on, could barely handle. This left for various boats out of commission on the worst days, weekends and the dead center of the week when business seemed to grow the highest, when they could justify filling all the time slots and taking out the half dozen fleet of boats at the same time. Turning away the business they so desperately needed because the lack of funding otherwise to maintain what little resources they did have. 

Jimin confronted Hoseok about the issue one day while lounging on the shore, Hoseok’s very presence a product of the neverending cycle of a dying industry in the dead center of the day on a Sunday, generally one of their busiest days now desolate with the whir of your engine in the distance the only source of light in the shrinking wallet available to the business. 

“It’s been like this for a few years,” Hoseok shrugged, red hair splayed into the grassy patch they sat upon. His eyes fluttered shut, folded hands coming to rest across his forehead, “It’s not as bad as it seems from an outside perspective. We...make ends meet. But nothing more and we can’t afford anything less so…”

“Has anyone proposed an alternate business model?” Jimin cringed when Hoseok’s eyebrow cocked over where his hands shielded his face, “I just mean like...if this isn’t working, why not try something else?”

Hoseok groaned as he moved to sit up, links in his spine audibly cracking as he arched over knees bent in towards his chest. “We know what works,” He said finally, “They know what works.”

“What’s that?”

Hoseok smiled at Jimin from underneath his arm, “Lift the stupid dance ban.”

“Oh—”

The red haired man shook his head, uncurling from himself to correct his posture, arms straight behind him, knees stretching out into the grass, “Let me explain…”

“That was the appeal of our little town. Not the boats and some cool pictures of sea bass. There used to be a thriving festival business. We had a pamphlet made especially for the town, one that detailed all the weekends in which various themed things would be happening down at the shore. People who pay us to use our coastline, basically.”

Hoseok shrugged, “Now no one wants to pay us except like...the elderly to have their fifty year class reunions. And even then, they don’t want to fuck with our policies—” He flattened two dark eyebrows, “—do you know how many restrictions there are for what music can be played out loud in a public setting? At any public gathering? Too many. A whole book too many.”

Jimin started slow, a thought that formulated the same way in the forefront of his conscious and it didn’t pass through any filters as it crawled off his tongue. 

“...so why don’t we...throw our own festival?”

Silence. 

And then Hoseok laughed, cackled really, returning to his splayed out position on the grass with his limbs starfished outward so far his hair nudged into Jimin’s thigh. The younger watched quietly, letting the implications of his own suggestion soak in and he briefly thought to glance over his shoulder for some sort of microphone attached to the bee buzzing to a pretty pink wildflower vining upward from the loose sand granules.

Hoseok came to, straightened again next to Jimin and he nudged his side with his elbow, nodding simply. 

“Okay.”

Jimin started to sputter out an apology, one on a knotted tongue, the words equally tangled in his throat when he was whipping toward the smiling man next to him. His eyebrows met in a single line at the bridge of his nose, unconsciously leaning closer to Hoseok. 

“Wait, what? What do you mean okay?” 

The older man nudged Jimin again with one curt nod of his chin, “I mean...okay. Let’s do it.”

Jimin blinked, once, twice, four times in the dying silence of Hoseok’s giggles before he admitted quietly, “I didn’t think I’d get this far, honestly—”

“Listen, kid,” Hoseok slung a heavy arm across Jimin’s shoulders, tugging on the smaller man until he was curled against his side, “I don’t know what it is about you...but I like your enthusiasm. And your idea, of course.”

He glanced up from where he’d ducked into Hoseok’s shoulder, cocking an eyebrow, “...so you’re saying?”

Hoseok beamed again, an infectious giggle falling from his lips as he happily clapped at Jimin’s shoulder for a passing moment before springing to a standing position, presenting his palm for Jimin to take. He waited until Jimin had joined him on his feet, lowering his voice a half octave as he brought Jimin in by clasped fists between their chests.

“I’m saying, let’s plan a damn festival.”

Jimin expected Hoseok to take off at a dead sprint up the shore like any other cliche romantic comedy would, hurdling them into a montage of planning that involved highlighter marks etched into the pores of their skin and mountains of rejected flyer options with a dying laptop battery mocking the open document of logistics information, where, when, how the festival would occur. 

Instead, Hoseok stood still, eyes frozen on something in the distance and again Jimin jerked to look for a bee and his high tech audio visual equipment when Hoseok provided in a thick monotone. 

“One issue.”

Jimin with the bee in mind quipped, “I think there will be a little bit more than one issue but that’s fine, that’s...common knowledge—”

“No, like,” Hoseok’s lips formed a sheepish shape, “With me.”

An endless whir of possibilities stirred so much so that Jimin couldn’t consciously pluck out a few tangible options but among that strangled mess, Jimin certainly didn’t expect Hoseok to utter hoarsely, “I can’t dance.”

“I’m sorry you…” Jimin tried not to show amusement on his features, “You what?”

“I can’t dance.”

“Everyone can dance.”

“No, they can’t. Because I can’t.”

The chaotic scene came later, the montage Jimin had envisioned as the grooves of a DVD shoved into the ancient player tucked away in the closet of his newly acquired home. Hoseok’s arms were colored in at least four different colors of highlighter, hair frayed at the edges of the headband wrapped haphazardly on the high rise of his forehead. Jimin had nearly broke his toe twice in his quest to hurdle a dining room chair to plug in his dying laptop as the spreadsheet he’d worked so meticulously to format hung in the balance of the singular electrical outlet at the far end of the dining room. 

They had a date. They had a venue. They had a backup venue. They had a caterer. They had a playlist. They had a playlist that would survive policy inspection, if need be. They had a mock flyer. 

They didn’t have a confident Hoseok. 

“I don’t know,” He huffed finally, fingers stalling on his laptop keys as he studied Jimin from over the lid, “...will anyone even come? Like, on the off chance that we do get this approved—”

Jimin knew the answer was an ardent no, but he teased nonetheless, “Is this because you think you can’t dance?”

“I know, I can’t dance. That’s beside the point—”

The hollow floorboards underneath the peeling linoleum of Jimin’s kitchen floor croaked in protest when he shoved his chair back, rounding the table to collect Hoseok’s wrist and drag him with him out the front door. 

“Where are we going?” Hoseok complained at the extension of Jimin’s digits curled into his skin. 

Jimin didn’t answer as he dragged Hoseok up your porch steps and rapped on the loose dangle of your screen door. He waited until you half emerged from the wood door you pulled back, palm on the screen door and clearly confused as he stated, “Hoseok thinks he can’t dance.”

You tried to fight the smile that curled onto each corner of your mouth, addressing your friend first, “You can dance. Everyone can dance—” and then to Jimin’s triumphantly beaming figure, “Why would he need to know how to dance?”

“We’re planning a festival,” Jimin said absently, a grin morphing higher on his features when your expression flattened into slightly horrified confusion.

“You’re what—” 

“Oh yeah,” Hoseok stepped up to be shoulder to shoulder with Jimin, squishing his presence into the tiny door frame, “Do you want to help?”

“I have no idea what’s fucking happening,” You blurted finally, lips fished, pupils dilated to the ambiant starlight that curled over the figures stationed in your doorway. 

Jimin’s smile turned sympathetic, a gentle hand on your waist guiding you safely away from the rustic contraption of doors at the front of your house. There was a catch in your breath for two reasons, allowing Jimin to lead you to the swing dangling off pillars screwed to the deck. You sat first, a series of concerning creaks following as Jimin took a seat next to you, Hoseok situating himself delicately to the railing circumventing your porch. 

“We’re going to try to revive the town,” Jimin started, simply albeit daunting in that stripped down sense. 

You blinked, realistic, to some sort of nocturnal worm that had weazled it’s way between the floorboards, “Just the two of you, huh ducky?”

“And you!” 

“It’s got to start somewhere,” Jimin curbed Hoseok’s enthusiasm with a gentle palm on your shoulder. 

More blinking. A threat of that shriveled up rigidity to your stature that Jimin loathed like the bile that curled onto the back of his tongue. And then it relaxed all at once, like a daunting wave that suddenly cut under itself, the current nothing but a gentle lap over some vague footprints in the sand. 

“...so who’s going to cater this thing?” It was a gradual build up in the rise of your cheeks but it was there, shining in Jimin’s direction once it had fully developed and he was unconscious of Hoseok’s happy hollering as his own smile began to stretch across his features. 

“We were thinking Taehyung,” Jimin said again in favor of Hoseok who was still violently fist pumping from his perch, “Unless you have another suggestion?”

You shifted, chin plopping onto a palm where fingers curled upward into your chin. The digits patted your lips for a few passing moments before you nodded, muffled a bit by your hand, “Taehyung and maybe one of the restaurants up the coast would be willing to provide. So that their affiliation isn’t biased, you know.”

There was a light ambiance that followed, a continuation of the chatter that had taken place across the lively chaos cluttering Jimin’s rickety kitchen table until Hoseok, silent for the vast majority of the conversation, shifted on the railing enough for a groaning creak that drew two attentions to it. 

“We’re forgetting one thing,” The red haired man beamed into the insinuation he knew was going to earn him grief, “I still can’t dance. And what’s a festival organizer who can’t dance? Useless—” 

The movement of the swing underneath his toes barely perched on the ground startled Jimin but it was your hand in his that had the air escaping from between his parted lips. He was useless, limp in letting you drag him up as you collected Hoseok in a similar fashion, fingers wrapped around his wrist as your drug the two men down the porch steps. 

Your houses resided on the up most part of the main road, leaving the nature beyond virtually untouched to human editing aside from a few decorative flower pots curled outward from a concrete slab out your back door and a singular ceramic frog chipped at it’s right eye that Jimin had found in his own garden. Your, loose term, backyard, was much larger in comparison to his simply because the clearing was larger, more space between curved trunks of tropical trees and centuries old stands by older oaks and maples. The grass was uncut by a few passing weeks, short enough to wade through, long enough to tickle ankles, dotted in various shades of wildflowers that hadn’t been cut by sharp metal blades of machinery. Rounded petals seemed to glow in the crescent moonlight that shaded through the expanse spaces left by soft, flicking leaves.

One white flower glowing a pale blue unintentionally squished under the sole of Jimin’s shoe, resilient in the way it sprung back to half of what it’s stem height had previously been. Jimin couldn’t say the same for the way his conscious was able to recover to the feeling of your hand in his palm to the pointed grip of your fingers at his waist, situating him to a similar position you’d been in all those weeks ago in the fog of the morning dock. 

“Dancing is easy,” You were chattering but Jimin was too focused on the color lens that coated the yellow flower itching into the bone at his ankle and how it cast across the adorable determination on your features. The very thing that had him in a trance, your touch, was what broke him out of it, grip jerking him closer so that he was forced to curl a stabilizing hand around the small of your back. 

“See,” You continued, dragging Jimin messily to the side and he recovered enough to correct his stumbled step, “Watch us.”

He allowed you to lead, entertaining the newborn deer act for a few moments, purposeful in squishing your toes in one instance and in flopping his stature around in a dramatic circle to prevent you from dipping him. When you were laughing, giggling to the stars that reflected on the scattered petals below your feet, he took miniscule steps to regain your faux control, tensing his muscles, holding you tighter, swinging you to the soundtrack of grasshopper titters. 

“Yeah,” Hoseok narrated dryly when Jimin spun you in a series of particularly dizzying circles, stopping only when you collapsed against his chest from fatigue, “Looks extremely simple.”

You exchanged a glance with Jimin, one that made his heart stop to swell within the cavity of his chest underneath your palms placed at the very spot and it was more than the cool evening breeze that made him shiver when you stepped away to offer your hand to Hoseok. 

It was a process to get Hoseok to fall in step with a simple slow dance guided by the music off Jimin’s phone tossed carelessly in the grass, squashing your toes and earning playful yelps as you adjusted his position. You beamed at Jimin in each instance, joy directed at the amused man who stood a few feet off with his eyebrows raised and arms folded to his chest.

Hoseok managed to shuffle in consecutive eight counts without breaking one of your smallest appendages with the clumpy sole of his tennis shoes, going as far to attempt a dip that nearly had you crashing backward into the wildflowers, one that had Jimin rushing forward to try to brace you while your laughter just let you carry your slow descent to the grass, two amused men curled over you. 

The lesson shifted to basic steps, a jazz square (“Jazz hands?” Hoseok had peered hopefully, long fingers elongated outward as they shook slightly), simple hip rolls which he proved to be quite, in your words, lethal at. He took a liking to a viral dance craze Jimin had the misfortune of seeing on the internet a few times, combining that rigid hip swivel with equally rigid arms, moving back and forth at a speed that had Hoseok exclaiming, “Hey! This is great!”

“Maybe that’s your signature move,” You teased, bumping shoulders with Jimin. 

“Really?” Hoseok sped up the movement, red hair bouncing over his eyelashes as he glanced toward Jimin, “What’s yours?”

Jimin tried to stay neutral in tone, “Not the floss—”

He adapted something called the shoot too, something that carried his descent down the dock one morning while Jimin just grinned and prepared music in the muffled confinement of his pocket, letting Hoseok wiggle around him until you appeared, stealing Jimin’s towel and smacking Hoseok’s ass with it, ordering both of you to get to work. 

Jimin lent him a spare pair of earbuds, logging him into his Spotify account so that he could navigate through Jimin’s meticulously put together playlists, something that proved to be quite distracting when there were three figures huddled in the dim light of Jimin’s dining room and Hoseok didn’t hear each of your called inquiries until at least the fourth time, too preoccupied with a shimmy neither you nor Jimin had taught him while he mouthed along to the song, notebook pressed to his nose. 

“I want to show you something—” proceeded the encapsulation of Jimin’s knee caps with Hoseok’s hands, pulling back with a full featured grin as some vaguely familiar tune began to blare down the otherwise serene coast line. Jimin watched as his older friend added arm movements to his hip swivels, a little bit of unintentional chest too, but most importantly a smile as he executed choreography he’d came up with himself. 

He stopped short of the entire routine when they’d spotted Namjoon’s bike descending the trail, instead presenting it to you and Jimin behind the curtains of your living room.

Final nights of preparation came with less anxious staring at completed outlines, typed documents, laminated folder fronts, but more dancing, silly twirls of Jimin’s hands on your waist as your bare feet sank into the couch cushions, Hoseok declaring the coffee table as his stage to show off his increasing footwork skills (watch this turn!), not so technical reviews of desired playlists, or in other words, the ones that most definitely wouldn’t pass through the town council meeting. 

“Will any of this pass, you think?” 

It was a grossly simplistic way of expressing the worry that stirred in the pits of your stomachs but spoken calmly to Jimin one evening after Hoseok had gone home, leaving your knees curled towards Jimin’s figure on your couch. 

“I have no idea,” He tried to smile, a soft encouragement as he shifted toward you, thighs bumping your knees, “You know them better than I do. I’m just the new guy…”

“You’re pretty intuitive, ducky,” You patted his thigh, “Don’t bullshit me. What do you think?”

“I think they’ll say no,” Jimin sucked the end of his tongue between his teeth, afraid his answer was too quick until you laughed, hand still on his leg as you leaned closer. 

You didn’t speak until your cheek had subconsciously shifted to his arm, glancing up at him through smiling eyelashes that expressed so much more, just as your expressions always seemed to contradict themselves. You were an open book, intuition told Jimin, and he smiled back in hopes it would amend the sad red lingering around the iris ring. 

“Me too,” You looked away from him, one leg stretching out to nudge a particularly battered piece of notebook paper, scrawled over in Hoseok’s messy handwriting and Jimin’s incessant color coding, “I don’t want to get my hopes up it’s just...been so long—”

Jimin shifted to accommodate your figure better, tentative in the hand that slid around the small of your back and when you didn’t react, he cupped your far hip, squeezing your curled figure against his side. 

“—it’s been so long since I’ve felt this kind of joy at the prospect of anything,” Your fingertips were just as hesitant in touching his stomach, gradual in expanding to lay your palm just underneath his ribs, “I...I don’t want this feeling to go away.”

He bypassed the urge to kiss your forehead by nudging his nose into your hairline, squeezing you a bit tighter. “There are only two options to what they can say, you know,” When you let out a shuddering sigh, he continued, “Yes or no.”

“Fifty fifty shot,” You muffled from below him. 

“Exactly. Worst case scenario, they say no. We ask what we can do, if anything, to alter our plans. We regroup, and try again at the next meeting,” Jimin swallowed, “Best case scenario...they say yes and we’ll throw the best damn party this town has ever seen.”

There was a prolonged silence between your mumbles of acknowledgement, paired with the slump and lull of your stature further into Jimin. “You’re right…” You slurred last, cute in the stars that shined in Jimin’s eyes. He struggled not to jostle you, snatching a quilted throw blanket from where it was neatly folded over the back of your paisley upholstery. 

He curled the blanket around your stature, gentle in dragging pillows around you to gently pry himself off of you, laying you into the tiny fort he’d constructed on your couch. He blew out the years old birthday cake scented candle on one of your end tables, flicked off the stereo system in the corner, turned out all the lights aside from the one in the threshold. A last pass by your dozing figure, adjusting the blankets until your slumbering state curled the ends into fists near your face. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Jimin soothed, palm curling down the back of your head to your shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Your response was muffled but his heart heard it loud and clear. 

“Goodnight, ducky.”

Jimin didn’t realize the crushing weight of your fingers curled around his, knuckles anemic, pressure borderline painful, until he let out a breath when the stocky man at the head of the front podium glanced up. His thumb did gentle work at soothing over the back of your knuckles, releasing some of the tension as you let out a similar breath, gaze set forward on the mayor, a stark black nameplate with gold engraving advertising Moon Jaejin, head of council. 

“A festival, huh?” He spoke lowly but the quirk in his eyebrow suggested he was speaking to an elementary student. Condescending.  

Your mouth parted but nothing came out, Hoseok’s admission from the other side of you affirming, “Yes, sir. A sort of revival of the seasons end festival that we...used to have.”

Namjoon shifted from his position two chairs down, uncomfortable. The mayor drew out his rhetoric this time, “You’ve spent quite the time planning this, haven’t you?” He glanced up from the purple folder Jimin had meticulously fretted over the entire morning, “In secret, I presume?”

“We’re presenting it to you now,” Jimin challenged, letting you curl a death grip on his fingers this time, “Aren’t we?”

More of the council members shifted this time. One cleared his throat. Moon laughed. 

“Ah, so it was your idea then, young man?”

Jimin set his shoulders, “It was. I’d like to continue having a job here, and by the way the season is wrapping up, it’s seeing to it that none of us down at the dock will be employed by next year.”

Nervous tittering. Nail marks crescented into his palm as you shifted forward, crouching over your knees. 

“Quite the radical claim for a newcomer,” He seemed to take pride in the way he crumpled the front of the folder as he placed it to the table, effectively crumpling the cover Hoseok had spent hours editing. “Our economy here is doing just fine, particularly after—”

“For you.”

You spoke now, chin lifting as you still hunched into yourself. 

“What was that—”

“I said,” You straightened now, letting go of Jimin’s hand to flatten a clammy palm over your thigh, “That for you, the economy is doing just fine. We’re all aware, with the new pool you just had installed.”

Moon lifted his chin higher, a challenge, “What are you suggesting, dear?”

“You must have some idea. You wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

There was another uncomfortable pause in the exchange, silence filled with the ruffling of papers, Namjoon’s pointed cough into the crook of his elbow, Hoseok’s fingernails clacking against the chair he sat in. And for the careful consideration the mayor took of his words, it seemed that they were in preparation to grab his nearest dagger just to slice it through your heart. 

“You, dear, of everyone should be resentful of this idea,” He smiled as he lounged into his chair, “What would your late boyfriend think of you suggesting this, hmm? Reimplementing the various vices that led to his death.”

This silence was frightening, devoid of white noise aside from Hoseok moving for you, wide eyes curled like wallpaper around the perimeter of the meeting room and it seemed to drop an octave lower when you stood, shrugging out of Hoseok who reached for you. 

“You won’t even say his name,” You quipped and the sentence relayed over again, far less confident before, wavering into something higher pitched and painful, “You won’t even say his name and yet you continue to sensationalize the tragedy to further build the mountain you’ve created for yourself over the rest of us.”

“So continue to run this town into nothing if you want. Once we’re all gone, you’ll be nothing too,” A bitter smile twitched onto your lips, one now coated in a fine layer of tears that tracked in haphazard directions down the surface of your cheeks, “but don’t you dare continue to do it in Yoongi’s name.”

Jimin found himself frozen, numb to the call of your name from Hoseok that you’d ignored, needles pining their way into the clenched nature of his muscles, faced with a shade of grave he’d never imagined to see Hoseok wearing, something that rimmed red around his eyelids too and he blinked away from Jimin’s starkly different gaze to touch the back of his wrist at his eye. 

“Gentlemen—”

A silent exchange, a question, who was going to go after you, and when Hoseok didn’t move quick enough, Jimin forced the static and stars from his eyes to flee from the building.

Polished dress shoes unpacked specifically for the occasion became scuffed in a fine layer of dust as he took the winding path at elongated strides until he essentially broke into a run. Darkness didn’t help his any of his already jumbled senses but instinct carried him to the one place he did know, dust curling into the moisture clinging to the wood from the remnants of dusk as the moon began to sigh quietly over the water. 

He heard you before he saw you, a horribly muffled sobbing noise deep within the recesses of that tiny boat at the end of the dock. He barely used the ropes and ladders designed for the very thing, uncaring with how the boat rocked with the force in which he propelled himself inside. 

You were curled into the seat at the front, a jacket held around your shoulders with a harsh fist while your latter hand was firmly clasped over your nose and lips. Jimin took his trek to you gently compared to his frantic rush from the meeting hall, toeing over each of the bench seats until he made it to the front row, balancing gently on the edge of the tattered and splintered wood. 

The ambiance of crashing waves spurred by the sighing moon continued over the sound of your sobs and Jimin’s bated breathing for a dozen or so heartbeats, your raw tone cutting into the sound of receding water away from the shore. 

“You didn’t have to come after me, ducky.”

Jimin shared a look with your eyes that cut to the side, trying to smile on one side of his face. “If I didn’t come, Hoseok was going to.”

“Hmm,” You sniffled, straightening a bit to drag the jacket sleeve underneath your nose, “Only one of you doesn’t understand that mess back there, though.”

“You don’t have to tell me—”

“I should have told you a long time ago,” You shrugged, “I’m just as bad as them, if you think about it.”

Jimin’s eyes rolled so far back they could have touched some of the glittering stars in the dark night, “Don’t ever compare yourself to them.”

“I don’t talk about it because it’s hard. They talk only about it because it benefits their stupid—” An unwarranted sob cut you off, ripping your spine forward to cup your palm over your mouth and Jimin surged forward this time, moving closer on his knees to rub at your shoulders. 

His soft touches curled own your spine, fingertips brushing soft patterns into the small of your back until the tremors in your shoulders subsided, allowing you to rub at your nose again. He waited until you were looking at him, cry ridden eyes reflecting the angry curl of water around the collection of boats that sat idle in the darkness. Then you smiled, pitiful but there as a short, single syllable laugh escaped, dropping your gaze again. 

“I’m a mess.”

Jimin shook his head, fingertips never ceasing. His chin dropped searching for your gaze until you managed to maintain it for a few passing, deep breaths. Then, gently, he encouraged, “Tell me about Yoongi.”

You froze but unlike previously, you began to speak almost immediately, rigid into the genuinely joyful laughter that followed. “He was everything good in the world. Seriously,” Another laugh, one that punctuated the pick of your finger into your nail bed, “Like...litters of puppies and sweet vanilla candles and fresh baked cookies. But...as a person.”

“We had been dating for three years. We were going to get out of here. Same university. Dance for me, music for Yoongi,” You laughed again, making eye contact with him now, “Dancing wasn’t really his thing. He could do it, he was great at it but he preferred the music thing. Which worked perfectly, if you think about it.”

“We were going to leave after the season ended. Work one last summer just to save up a little extra,” Jimin saw the tears well before you scrunched your eyes shut, “Wish I would have just listened to him and left early.”

A moment to collect yourself. “Anyway, it was a great season for us. Yoongi had just gotten his hands on one of the newer boats. Believe it or not, we used to have nice tourist yachts that were equipped to travel miles down the coast. A whole fleet of them,” You affectionately plucked at the worn leather you sat on, “This was his old boat.”

“He had a particularly rowdy group one evening. Not anything out of the ordinary, definitely not something him and the staff on board couldn’t handle but a distraction when there was a horrible storm approaching,” You sucked in a breath, chest expanding where Jimin’s fingers had traveled back up, still rubbing soft patterns into your jacket, “You can...uhm. You can imagine what happened…”

“They blamed it on the party that was happening on the boat. Said that if we just took people on boat rides for an hour or so, none of that would have ever happened. That the dancing and the alcohol and the atmosphere cultivated here in our little town was to blame. He wouldn’t have been as distracted without all of it and he certainly wouldn’t have been out that late...”

“Press got ahold of the story, took things out of context, didn’t have all the information. The town became deserted for more reasons than just the ridiculous executive order the mayor signed the night of Yoongi’s funeral—” You grit your teeth, “—like he deserved some sort of reward while Yoongi was—”

Jimin wrapped an arm around you then, tugging until you placed your cheek on his shoulder. His knees burned but nothing like the pelt of his heart against his ribcage. 

“That’s why I couldn’t leave. It didn’t feel right. Nothing felt right. I didn’t want to listen to music. I didn’t want to dance. I didn’t want to look at the dock. I just wanted my Yoongi back…”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

His hand now rubbed up and down your arm, giving into the urge to press his lips against your hairline, letting softer sobs emit out of you now until the pass of his fingers to the jacket still clutched to your person was in time with your attempt at controlling your breathing. 

“I think you would have been friends,” You said suddenly, tears shining when you peeled your cheek off his shoulder to look up at him, “...and I’m really glad you came here.”

Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed, but you cut him off with a gentle finger to his lips. “I’m really glad you’re here for a lot of reasons, but that specifically. Hoseok’s my friend but Yoongi was his best friend,” You smiled sadly, “He’s just been kind of lost for a while. It’s...refreshing to see him like this again. A little bit of me feels normal seeing Hoseok be normal.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I’m still going to,” Your fingertip traced from his plump bottom lip to follow the line of his flushed cheekbone, “Thank you, ducky.”

“If anything, you’ve made the whole town think again. No one has played music out loud from their front porch in years. No one has danced on the dock in years,” You blinked suddenly, “But like fuck them. You’ve made me realize a lot too.”

“Stupid little things, like bike riding is fun and viral dance trends are cheesy but most importantly—” You inhaled through your nose, “—Yoongi would fucking hate everything about what they’ve done to our town.”

“You know what he’d love, though?”

Jimin shook his head, gentle in holding your waist. 

You grinned, genuine through the tears that wreaked havoc on your features as you cupped both Jimin’s cheeks, jacket slumping off your shoulders a bit as you nodded once, a curt pout on your lips. 

“A secret festival that oozes in...how would he put this,” A loud laugh, a sound Jimin hadn’t earned the pleasure of hearing before, “fuck the system.” 

“Taehyung!”

The farmer nearly dropped the neat pyramid of tomatoes curled into his chest when you hissed his name at an elevated whisper, high steps picking your way up to one of his tents. He deposited the tomatoes first, an ungraceful roll of the produce into a nearby bin before he braced his hands on the card table, leaning over it to repeat in the exact same whisper scream, “What?” 

You stripped one lapel of your jacket back to snatch a stack of the paperclipped, neatly cut flyers. One glance over your right shoulder, a prolonged glance over your left, and then you were shoving the stack of papers to Taehyung. “Take these.”

Jimin approached then, gentle in the index finger he prodded against the side of your head. “Subtle.”

Taehyung began speaking as you whipped around to glare at Jimin, “Oh? I thought this wasn’t happening—”

“It’s not supposed to.” “You can’t tell anyone,” You added, “Just...add these into bags of tourists. And the occasional trustworthy local, I guess. Just not Namjoon. Obviously.”

He pocketed the flyers into the front pouch of his forest green apron, hidden from view. “So...then this means you’ll need my catering?”

“You’re invited as a guest first. If you’d like to take a night off and come party with us, we’ll find something us. We already had a few ideas—”

“Who says I can’t serve food and party?” Taehyung beamed, lips all geometric edges as he cupped his hands over his lips, “I’ll be there. And your secret is safe with me.”

The look the broad man that stood before Jimin cast made his joints freeze in his pocket, name tag not blurred by the yellow lensed glasses perched on the edge of Jimin’s nose as he began to stutter over nothing in particular.

Seokjin. 

“Uhh…”

“Forgive my friend,” You touched Jimin’s elbow, reaching past him to snag the stack of flyers out of his jacket to slap them down on the counter. Jimin warily regarded the reaction, watching at Seokjin’s eyes traveled down to where your palm still covered the majority of the cover art. 

“We need a favor,” Hoseok added from Jimin’s opposite side, unabashed in slinging an arm over his shoulders. “Can you help us out, Jinnie?”

Seokjin’s expression remained stoic for a fraction longer before he was breaking into a series of wheezing giggles, bending at the waist to make his tie escape from his suit jacket and dangle to the floor below. He came to seconds later, holding a hand in Jimin’s direction.

“Of course, Hobi,” He beamed once Jimin deemed it safe to accept the handshake, giving one firm squeeze, “What can I do for you guys?”

“Can you hand these out to your guests?”

The suit clad man’s lips pursed into bloomed tulip as he fiddled with the clip on the stack, lifting one paper up to his eyes to squint at the font. Realization hit after a second and he nodded, “Oh? So we are having the festival?”

“Secretly,” You nudged the flyers a little bit until Seokjin got the hint and peeled them off the top part of the hotel counter to place them down near his desktop computer, “We want you to hand these out to guests.”

“Of course,” Another bellowing laughter, full of sweet eye crescents and a gentle shape to his mouth, “...I can’t give one to Mayor Moon, right?”

Hoseok moved to snatch the flyers back when Seokjin swatted at his hand, shaking his head with that same smile on his features, “I’m joking, I’m joking. I can even give you access to our valet services here, if you like. To get people down the shore, you know...”

“This is ridiculous,” Hoseok grunted when you placed two hands on his shoulder blades and pushed, “They’re going to catch us. The whole thing is going to be ruined!” 

You sighed, glancing at Jimin, “Think you can self teach yourself to drive a boat in five minutes?”

He beamed, “I’ll give it my best shot.”

“Hobi,” You rolled onto your toes, squishing his cheeks between your thumb and index fingers until his panicked ramblings ceased, “They’re all out of town until the morning. Namjoon is with them. No one’s going to notice. We’re only taking two boats. We’ll move the rest around so it looks like nothing is missing.”

“Will that work?” 

“You spent hours photoshopping a party hat onto a boat,” You tweaked the pliable skin of his cheeks once more, “Do you really want to go back on the boat rides promised on the flyer?”

Miserable, Hoseok moaned, “No.” 

“Good. Take Jimin and let’s get this show on the road or else someone is going to catch us.”

All traces of whiny Hoseok were gone when the pair stood on the deck of the singular yacht the boat service still owned in front of an entire panel of controls that looked entirely too daunting for Jimin to even begin to comprehend. Hoseok, on the other hand, seemed like a kid in a candy store, some sort of high pitched giggle leaving his lips as he clapped his hands, turning to a series of switches and dials as the boat began to revv to life underneath them. 

“I haven’t done anything with these in years—” 

A third voice cut him off, followed by the soft whir of something through water as your boat began to poke by in front of them. “Are the two of you coming anytime soon or are you going to let it get daytime?”

Hoseok rolled his eyes, a good natured gesture as he fiddled a bit more before the boat finally began to move. “Pretty cool though…” He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he turned to Jimin, “Right?”

Jimin nodded, tossing his arm around his friend’s shoulders, “So cool, Hobi.”

They’d chosen the area around an abandoned dock just outside of the town limits, beach area sufficient after a little tender love and care from the help of Jeongguk and the bed of his work truck, secret for the premise but technicalities making it so the town council members would have no grounds to shut it down. Taehyung provided the tents complete with various colored fairy lights and other lighting contraptions that Jimin couldn’t quite pinpoint the names of. Seokjin provided the transportation in the form of various high school aged children and golf carts, ones that were ordered to take the route down by the beach so that the ride was enjoyable in itself. 

Food had its own designated area, homemade from Taehyung’s garden recipes, a dance floor in another area sectioned off by multicolored streamers and party decorations Hoseok had raided his attic for. Music, certainly not approved by the town ordinance, played from speakers attached to Jimin’s laptop hidden underneath a black sheet, playlist set to shuffle different on each loop. Jimin had polished the boats after they’d successfully moved them, available until the hour that darkness would completely envelope the coast, leaving them available to take food and drinks and dancing to someplace other than the wooden panels pressed deep into the sand. 

You stood shoulder to shoulder with him as cool winds curled off the early evening waves, just at the entrance to the event. Taehyung had just declared The Coastal Cabaret open for business, lifting lids of expensive cooking contraptions that sent piles of steam billowing into the corners of the light lined tents, yet Seokjin was the only one who lingered around with a glass of champagne tucked delicately between his fingers. 

“Do you think anyone will come?” You spoke finally, words wisped into the wind. 

“I hope so.”

Taehyung called after ten minutes that the food was definitely edible, earning the attention of Seokjin who could be heard uttering ridiculous moans of approval with each new thing the farmer thrust toward him on a decoration paper plate. 

“This was stupid,” You concluded twenty minutes in when the breeze had picked more clouds over, rushing the night faster than first intended. “We shouldn’t have—”

There was a chatter, a voice that didn’t belong to either of the figures already tailored to the party. Some crunching, the sound of a soft engine, and then a loud hollering could be heard as Jeongguk steered the first golf cart into a makeshift parking space in the grass. 

“Here you go, have a wonderful time,” The younger man cheered, long curls stuck to his cheeks as he beamed at you and Jimin, offering a thumbs up over the steering wheel, “I bring you guests! And there’s plenty more where that came from so I have to go—”

It was an elderly couple, not unfamiliar to Jimin. He’d seen them around town, at the convenience store on the far corner from his house, roaming the shore hand in hand while he was doing his nightly closing duties at the dock. The woman touched his arm when she grew close enough, startling him out of his recognition as she softened, “We’re awful glad you arranged this, darling.”

“Oh it wasn’t just me. Hoseok and—”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand, shaking your head as you absently pointed toward the spot Jeongguk had just been before leading the couple down to the tents, explaining all the way what they had to offer. At the end of your point came Hoseok in the second golf cart, a group of teenagers this time that bolted from their seats the second the machine came to a stop, bypassing any sort of explanation as they went straight for the neon lights flashing to the dance floor. 

It continued like that for what seemed like hours, golf carts guiding people in, others parking their cars in messy rows just off the street to walk their way down to the coast. The unfamiliar face was few and far between, the majority of the festival goers residents of the town. The boats barely left their place at the dock on the far end of the happenings, people too preoccupied with the music and the dance and the atmosphere they’d been deprived of for what seemed like far longer than a handful of years. 

Jimin found you at the corner of the dance floor, stance wide as you watched people crowd the small area without a care to who they were near, taking the part off into the sand where the music could still be coherent enough to make out some sort of body movement to. He touched your shoulder in greeting, coming to copy your stance. 

“Awesome, isn’t it?” He mused, fondly watching as Hoseok slithered his way to the middle and returning with a toddler in hand, hoisting her up so that her pigtails bounced and her laughter rang in time with the beats of the music. 

You nodded, awestruck in the moment but that snapped when there was a figure in your peripheral, slinking in steps, stumbling more like, in trying to be stealth but hopelessly failing. Hoseok turned with you, eyes widening as Namjoon approached with a sheepish smile. 

He took both hands from the pockets of his jacket, holding them in solace to the protective step Jimin subconsciously shifted in front of you. 

“Did they send you down here?” You questioned anyway, negating the step Jimin had taken by moving around him. 

“Yes,” Namjoon answered truthfully, but rushed to amend when your gaze flattened, “but not for the reason you think!”

“What do I think, Joon?”

The taller man shifted from foot to sandal clad foot, fists curled back into his pockets. A smile graced his features, all dimples indented into his cheeks when he chuckled. “They told me to come have fun with you guys,” Bewildered, he continued to laugh, the sound growing in comical value, “Can you believe it?”

“No, I can’t—”

You placed a palm on Jimin’s chest, soft again in a way he’d previously heard you speak to Namjoon. “Go have fun, Joon,” You nodded when he made curious eye contact with you, “You deserve it.”

It wasn’t until Namjoon had vanished into the mass of bodies that you whipped around, searching for Jimin’s hand. When you retrieved it, you tugged, an answer to your question, “Want to go somewhere?”

Somewhere turned out to be the boat, the boat, clambering aboard a bit harder on the unkempt sway of the abandoned dock but you made it with Jimin’s support on your waist, your hands turning to offer him a similar service until you were both safely inside. You paused halfway to clambering to the front, where the space was certainly much bigger to maneuver, legs caught between the rows of benches. 

You blurted, “Do you want to dance?”

He obliged, swaying you in a simple circle about yourselves that was complete with a few pained knocks of your legs against the benches but it didn’t much matter in the ambiance and you adjusted quickly. Your music became the white noise of the party happening down on the beach, high hats in the music punctuated by the sounds of laughter, accents the call of Taehyung to whoever was coming to retrieve a snack, a crescendo the whir of golf carts continuing to drag in late strays, eight counts of a part of your heart that slowly began to heal within itself, emitting such an intense beam that Jimin could feel it radiating off of you the tighter he held you. 

“You’re the best thing to happen to this town in a while,” Your voice curled across Jimin’s neck, eliciting goosebumps up into the short hairs at his nape, “You know that right, ducky?”

“It was all you. I didn’t—”

“Park Jimin,” The way you quipped his full name had him startling to your gaze, finding a fond smile creeping onto your teeth just underneath tears that seemed to have already existed, “Do you know how to take a compliment?”

Softly, he answered, “Not really.”

“You have helped me though. Immensely,” Assured, you nodded, “All of us.”

Bashfully, he shrugged, pink to his cheeks harsher in the low lighting off the battery powered fairy lights Hoseok had spent hours weaving through the railing of the boat. 

“Sometimes we all need a little push.”

You cocked your head, deciding albeit reluctantly, “Something like that.”

Jimin grinned. “By the way—” He began to fumble at the back pocket of his jeans, “—what music do you want?”

You shook your head, making grabby hands at him until he took you back into his embrace, holding you close as you mumbled into his chest, “Don’t want any music... 

“...I just want to dance.”

[r6s-imagines]

still doing requests, but i wanted to write something super fast because i’m sad :(

•••

thermite x reader >> that someone isn’t me

•••

MASTERLIST

warnings: angst, depression

•••

summary: thermite doesn’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation.

•••

you slapped your hand against the bar counter, feeling the burn slip down your throat. hacking with your tongue out, you grinned.

“it couldn’t have been that bad!” jordan laughed, slapping your back. “you’re more of a lightweight than i thought!”

“don’t flatter yourself because you took a shot too,” you teased, waving a hand with a dry voice. “it’s not every day you’re downing a fireball.”

“oh, but it is, in a day in the life of jordan trace,” he quipped in response, reaching to pour himself another shot. you took your hand and placed it upon his, freezing his pouring motion.

“i think you’ve had well enough, you crippling alcoholic,” you insisted. “it’s late, and who knows what work has for us tomorrow.”

“and bring this beautiful night to an end, darlin’?”

“well, the fun won’t end, but the drinks certainly will. i’m not gonna hold your hair like the romcoms tomorrow morning.”

he turned to you with a smirk, running his tongue along his front teeth. it was rare you were able to watch him without a life threatening situation. a decade had passed since you met him and not one time did you catch him in a truly casual, comfortable setting. for once, his face wasn’t caked in dirt and his hands were properly healing. jordan’s eyes were soft, witnessing you take in his beauty in what felt like slow motion. once he noticed the extended experience, he stuck a pinky nail into his teeth, comically picking away.

“what are you doing?” you giggled, blushing at the realization.

“you’re staring through my skin, hun,” he replied. “figured there must’ve been something left from dinner that you were noticing.”

“i would’ve told you!” you chuckled again. “even though you’re ridiculously handsome, i’m still not afraid to tell you as it is.”

“you’re too kind,” he winked. “i’m glad i’ve got a friend like you, y/n.”

a friend like you.

“my room or yours?” you asked as he put a hand on your back.

“yours, please,” he concluded, finding his footing. “mine’s a nightmare. yours smells like vanilla.”

“thank you...?”

“the pleasure’s all mine.”

your head seemingly floated above your neck as you sat down too quickly, letting jordan flop onto the bed with his jacket still on. just before he entered a sleeping state, you reached around his body to remove it for him, placing it on your desk chair. he groaned, a barely audible “thank you” slipping from his lips. you wanted to laugh seeing his face entirely smushed against your pillow, his hair flying this way and that. through his graying hair, he was still a puppy at heart, and for that you couldn’t help but fall violently for him.

“why do you spend your time with me?” you quietly asked, laying on your back and looking to the white ceiling. just as you began to count the scuff marks above, jordan let out a whispered reply.

“i love you,” he murmured. “you’re pretty, you kick ass, and you keep me in check.” he moaned before going completely silent, a faint snore filling your ears. you exhaled, smiling widely.

“i love you too,” you announced, craning your head to see jordan entirely asleep, unaware of your words. “if only you knew.”

you couldn’t sleep, truthfully. every time you closed your eyes, you saw jordan, and you smiled like a dumbass every time. he loves you! do you know what kind of an accomplishment this is!? the moment he awakens, you’re gonna plant a kiss on his lips and he’ll hold you close, arms around you as he—

RING, RING!

“6am already?” you complained to yourself, leaning to slap your clock. the sudden movement caused jordan to snort awake, sitting up with an open mouth and squinted eyes. in an attempt to wake himself up, he rubbed his hands against his hair, shaking his head once.

“mornin’, pumpkin,” he groaned. “time?”

“six,” you could barely contain your excitement, grinning wildly and feeling hot.

“shit,” he bursted into action, completely ignoring your happiness and snatching his jacket. “i’ve got my examination in half an hour, i’m sorry to just bail like this.”

you kept your smile, yet your eyes seemed to show your dismay.

“it’s okay, jordan,” you assured, looking to the floor. “i’ll see you at lunch?”

he winced, inhaling through his teeth.

“no can do, y/n,” he apologized. “i’ve got a date.”

you would’ve suspected you were slapped in the face.

“a—a date?” you choked out.

“yep!”

“then what was yesterday to you?” you whispered.

“hm?”

“nothing,” you perked up, jaw clenching. he nodded hesitantly, stepping out without another word. slowly, silently, hot tears fell down your cheeks.

maybe he doesn’t remember anything from yesterday, you begged to believe. maybe it was just a test to see how i’d react.

but this isn’t high school. jordan is an adult, you are an adult, you work together. why did he say he loved you if—?

you whipped out your phone from under the sheets, typing frantically.

you: why didn’t you say you had a date?

you were debating on whether to ask more questions or drop it and wait for him to reply. almost instantly, he began typing back.

jordan: didn’t think it was important, why?

you: i thought i was important

you bit your tongue. perhaps you were too rude? did last night even happen? sure, you two have been close, but could you have overstepped your boundary as a friend?

jordan: you are.

he didn’t reply for a full minute.

jordan: are you okay y/n?

you: who are you going out with?

jordan: i thought i try some dating apps lol. her names charlotte.

you: what about me?

jordan: what about you?

you: do you remember what you told me last night?

please be drunk, you begged. please forget what you said so i can dismiss it and pretend it didn’t happen.

jordan: in your dorm? oh...

you cursed, time seeing to slow to a snail’s pace as he typed for several minutes.

jordan: you may have misunderstood me. yes, i love you, but not that way. you’re like a sibling to me, y/n, and i wouldn’t trade you for the world. we’re too close to risk our relationship by dating. you deserve the world, and someone to give it to you, but that someone isn’t me. i’ll always be here for you, but we’re friends and it’s best if it stays that way. i’m sorry.

you laughed to yourself, letting a spray of tears land onto the floor. feeling as if you’re going mad, you typed back, now sobbing.

you: it’s all good! thanks for clearing it up! let me know how the date goes haha :)

angrily, you whipped your phone at your bed, watching it launch into the air and land with a satisfying crack onto the floor.

“a fool, an idiot, a damn fool,” you called yourself over and over, gripping your hair. “why did i think it could work?” your phone buzzed, and you looked past the large shattered section of the screen to read your notification.

new message!

jordan: i’ll let you know! thanks for being so understanding!

the next day, you didn’t sit with jordan during a meeting.

the next week, you switched your workshop schedule.

the next month, you didn’t leave your room.

the next year, you forgot his name.

[captainchrisfics]

Share your self care!

Thanks for the tag, @elatedmarvel ! It’s a great way to get back into the swing of things here and a nice way to focus on some good during these crazy times :)

🌿 favourite comfort food: I can’t pick between cheesecake and mozzarella sticks, it depends on what kind of comfort I’m looking for specifically, but that being said- I’m gonna go with the all-encompassing cheese

🌼 favourite alcohol drink: Ok, hear me out, long island iced teas. I get made fun of a lot for it, but it gets me the most fun drunk for the least money so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

🌷 favourite relaxing activity: Reading is a given, but since quarantine I’ve gotten ridiculously into knitting while watching Supernatural. I know that’s a loaded word here on tumblr, but I’ve never seen it before now and it’s become quite the family affair in my house so it’s a great time. Can’t remember the last time we got to bond over us all being genuinely invested in something like this.

🌻 favourite calming scent: Laundry and a bonfire (even though one always cancels out the other lol)

🌺 favourite relaxing (or uplifting) song: I can listen to any song off of Greyson Chance’s Portraits album any time any day and feel better within a minute, even though it’s not particularly happy 

🍄 favourite book to get lost in:  God, either of Jandy Nelson’s books are basically permanently etched into my skull. I’m always re-reading them even if it’s not actively, I can pick them up anywhere and fit right in. I’m partial to I’ll Give You the Sun but I can’t recommend her work enough

💐 favourite chill-out TV show: All of Michael Schur’s greatest hits like B99, The Office, The Good Place, and Parks and Rec- which I definitely have the softest spot for

🌹 the best advice you’ve ever had: I don’t remember how to say this as eloquently as my favorite high school english teacher did, but the sentiment is that nobody cares about you as much as you care about you. I think embarrassment and awkwardness are my most crippling feelings, but the beauty of it is that every little embarrassing thing I’ve done that comes to my head when I’m trying to fall asleep isn’t half as bad as I think because everyone else is worried about their own. Realizing that people don’t think about you is really freeing and confidence-inspiring in a little bit of a nihilistic way.

Not too sure who to tag, so if you want to do this totally feel free to say that I did!! Hope you’re all doing well and staying safe, always and especially now. Looking on the bright side, I’m excited for the opportunity to get back into this :)

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs Naruto Shippuden S20 (Pt. 3)

I wonder if going after Karin’s Tsukuyomi bulb was happenstance or whether Tobirama went “I smell an Uzumaki” and had at it

“Just be quiet for a bit” How dare you speak to your father this way Sasuke, Kakashi does nothing but love you

“EVERYONE WILL OWN A DOG. GO GET A DOG, HOKAGE’S DECREE!“ you’ve got my vote, Kiba

Mirai as a baby is an absolute unit and I love it

Shikamaru, getting down on one knee in front of Temari: Will you not marry me?

You know what. All these dreams are extremely realistic. I buy it. A teenage boy would totally dream about kicking his friends’ asses for fun even if he had the opportunity to do anything in the world. 10/10 believability 

Sai dreams about being told he has a nice smile and being twirled around by Naruto my boooooy 😭😭😭😭😭😭

“[My Sasori transformer] will be the guardian deity of the Sand” Kankuro pls

Omg Temari’s dream is so cute she wants her little brothers to need her

God the fact Gaara’s dream is about having a happy childhood PICK UP THE PHONE RASA I JUST NEED TO TALK

“Madara, don’t you dare talk about the Uchiha. The only one who has that right, is my big brother.” But he did... murder them, Sasuke. That is a thing that happened. My dear. My dude. He done did it.  

Having read Itachi Shinden none of this should be shocking but FUGAKU REALLY YOUR SON IS FOUR WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS

“Listen Itachi, never forget this sight” well he sure won’t now that you’ve given him CHILD PTSD FUGAKU

“We finally have peace, and we must do our best to maintain it” Hmmm.... must you, Fugaku? Is that a thing you must do?

“What is life, anyway?” Damn my existential dread didn’t kick in at least until I was in school, Itachi

Sasuke was such a weird-looking newborn I love him

I wonder how the English dub will deal with the mild implications of inc/est between Itachi and Izumi

Please Mikoto your son is like 6 why are you having him babysit

God I am so used to every version of Itachi having the voice of a grownass man that hearing a child-like voice even when he is 6 is almost off-putting lmao

Full offence Obito but why do you have to be such a little bitch

“Oh good, I knew that you’d be alright” HE’S 6 FUGAKU

Why is Naruto just sitting in a basket on top of his father’s grave??? Who let you do this? Hiruzen what is wrong with you??

“I’m glad that you didn’t die” an accurate representation of Itachi’s social skills at all ages

DFhsdjfhkdsjhfk I love that Itachi has accidentally become these kids’ leader 

AHHHHH I guess that’s Hana next to Itachi I wanna see the cat ninja and dog ninja fight 

“If the fighting can be stopped, I’d like to stop it” Shisui <3 

Itachi’s sweet tooth is so goddamn cute ahhhh what a little nerd

Hhgfkhjfhl SASUKE’S PAW ENCYCLOPEDIA THE PREQUEL THIS IS WHAT I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED

“I mean, [ladies] are clueless” “How dare you insult my woman” Turns out the alcohol this cat was drinking was Respect Women Juice

God I love Minazuki-sensei he’s such a mess

“No they blew away in the wind” guess Itachi hasn’t picked up his snitching tendencies yet lmao

Baby Sasuke has acquired a younger voice too I guess. It is real late in the game to be establishing these lmao

Obito. I’m. Stop???? Please. Is this how Kakashi felt during the war

God I love Shisui the tiny ninja detective they really have left off some of the cooler aspects of being a shinobi in all the wild and flashy jutsu like during the Land of Waves arc when Kakashi kept noticing relatively mundane clues

“Shisui picked up on how I felt right from the beginning” welcome to empathy Itachi

“I’ll hand this intel over to Lord Hokage, and he will deliver a just and fair judgment” I like this ANBU vs. ROOT dichotomy but bold of you to assume Hiruzen won’t ultimately let Danzo do whatever he wants lol

Damn what the shit how does Shisui know who the foundation already isn’t he like 12 

The animation of this arc is nice but also so weird they really did make Itachi and Shisui’s eyes like half of their face

These wholeass adults getting between by two prepubescents lmao 

“A teleportation jutsu has no mass” wait WHAT I have so many questions Shisui what does that MEAN 

“I want to you to think of me as your older brother” HELL YEAH HE DOES

Ffgdfkghkjh what an abrupt voice change between age 8 and 11 Itachi

How many times have they animated these same goddamn Itachi scenes 

Holy shit it’s like they tried to tell the story of the Itachi Shinden novels and then got bored halfway through gfkhgfkhgkjh

“I’m exhaAAAUsted from my mission” Itachi pls why say it like that

“You have the Mangekyo as well?” Fugaku had a friend???? Unrealistic. Blocked

THEY KIDNAPPED NARUTO??? I DON’T REMEMBER THIS IN ITACHI SHINDEN

Genjutsu but I don’t remember that either ?!?!?! Doesn’t Fugaku spend all of Itachi Shinden being emotionally distant and sending Itachi mixed moral messages

Who is the Fugaku hater on this storyboard staff lmao I’m crying

I have a lot of thoughts about this art direction honestly why is everything in the shadows why are the character models so weird why is Itachi suddenly outside in the lightning for his murder discussion meeting instead of inside the council room if you had to shout over lightning people could hear you 

“I challenge you to the high jump” “You’re no match for me” Sasuke you’re the most obnoxious seven-year-old in the world I love it

“There’s something that I’d like you to help me with” a very casual opener when you’re proposing the murder of your entire clan but okay

They really leaned into the horror movie aesthetic huh fair enough 

I have some objections to register about Izumi’s death like both options are weird but at least in Itachi Shinden she wasn’t humiliated by Obito begging for Itachi to save her she had a degree of awareness and it was an impactful if strange scene

FUCK THE TOBI VOICE I KNEW IT WAS COMING BUT I’M WHEEZING

Cute new ED but also the idea of Tobirama giving anyone a fistbump amuses me immensely 

“Who would’ve thought that that scuzzy bearded jerk would’ve been able to use a taijutsu like that” RUDE but also ‘scuzzy’ jhfjghkjhfgj

Omg that’s so funny they literally gave the former owner of Zabuza’s blade the same voice

This doesn’t make any fucking sense how could Juzo have the executioner’s blade when Zabuza would be like 21 when Itachi was 13 oh my god 

“The Hidden Mist doesn’t keep any prisoners” unsurprising but interesting

Is this meant to imply that Juzo is killed and then Zabuza immediately finds the sword and starts a coup because that’s hilarious

Wait how does them fighting the Mizukage make any sense isn’t Yagura under Obito’s control lmao who wrote this

Did Itachi just.... accidentally cripple the Mizukage omg [Zabuza screams in the distance]

Hahahaha I know it’s supposed to be evil but it’s really funny that Kakuzu killed his partner for being too slow

“I wouldn’t know how to cater to your moods” kjfhgkdhfgjh Kakuzu just got wrecked by a thirteen-year-old LMAO 

“I’m not sure what to do with you... whether to kill you right now or find a way to use you” KILL OROCHIMARU, ITACHI, IT’S GONNA SAVE YOU A LOT OF TROUBLE 

Why the hell would Kabuto be hanging out near the Akatsuki anyway isn’t he in a long term infiltration of the Leaf Village lmao or can Orochimaru summon him like a snake

On what basis does Pain decide these partnerships did Kisame and Sasori take a babysitting course or smth

The cutaway without the “This... is art” scene is almost funnier because it implies Itachi just had to flash his eyes at Deidara and Deidara was like, “HELLO AKATSUKI I AM HERE”

“I wouldn’t mind giving you a taste of my art” [insert ninja sex joke about Deidara’s mouth hands here]

Deidara really should not be old enough to be here by this point in the narrative but this entire arc has been wacky timeline wise

Man it must be fucked up to fight a puppet version of your own corpse

“What I really wanted... was to get a hold of Itachi’s body” you are the definition of stranger danger Orochimaru

From what I remember the video games had Kakuzu and Orochimaru approaching Hidan and not Konan and Itachi but I’m game for any Orochimaru erasure lmao

 I’m pretty sure all of that blood was Hidan’s?? World-building whomst

“He licked Kakuzu’s blood” did he though?? Show me his wound Itachi

OMG they’re really heavy-handed with Leaf!Itachi as if we did not just watch a bunch of episodes of Itachi caring about his village like honestly look at this:

Kisame: So even you have feelings for your birthplace, is that it?

Itachi: No. Not at all. [Sasuke, I hope that you’re safe.] 

(Me too Itachi 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭)

“It’s been a long time... Saaasuke” could you say his name a little less weirdly please Itachi

You really can’t get mad at Kakashi for teaching Sasuke chidori Itachi like maybe if you would murder less people Kakashi would feel a little less overprotective

God was the only point of animating and voicing these scenes again so that Itachi could mentally apologize every twelve seconds? You know what fair enough, anxiety and depression be like that sometimes

“You still have people who’ll protect you” Oh plot twist Itachi was actually writing a “Nice” list instead of a “Naughty” list and Kakashi, Jiraiya and Naruto are all on it

Oh yeah I kind of forgot that this was all supposed to be like a 5 minute span for Sasuke’s flashback of Itachi’s entire life lmao

You know.... it’s real unclear to me how Obito wakes up from his trance lmao he may not be in a cocoon but he’s certainly exposed to the light

“Be careful. We’re surrounded on all sides by four of his shadows” “Yeah I know that” Yeah, Naruto knows it, but Sasuke’s warning where the Shadow Madaras are entirely for Kakashi and Sakura’s benefit BC HE WORRIES MY BABY BOYYYY

“This chakra is even way stronger than Ten-Tails” I really heard “Tenten” there and I was like, wait what did I miss with Tenten kfhkjhgkjhg

OH GOOD ANOTHER UCHIHA FLESH MOUNTAIN JUST WHAT WE NEEDED

“They’re turned into White Zetsu” I hate this nonsensical bit of world-building it made more sense and felt less weird when they were Hashirama clones like what the fuck

Oh I can’t believe this is making me feel almost bad for Madara did Zetsu really edit the Uchiha Stone Tablet’s Tsukuyomi section to say “Peace Plans” ain’t that how like the CIA entraps people 

“Hashirama... where did I go wrong” We’d need a lot more time than you have to unpack that Madara

“Countless nights passed” I mean. Was it countless nights. Because I think it was. A couple hours. This war arc spans like two days. I have spent more human hours on this arc than they’ve spent ninja hours in this war

“I can’t believe such a person existed” neither can I Sasuke it’s almost like she was invented specifically for this arc

For real Obito no offence but like why aren’t you dead it just doesn’t make much sense khkjfdhkjhgkjh

Hmmm not 2 be that gal but Kaguya’s voice is v pleasant on the ears 

“Sorry to be so rough with you, Obito” Kakashi. You loving, kind, dumb bitch. He stabbed you THREE TIMES in the past two days you really owe him like -1000 apologies

“This is also one of those times where your body just moves on its own” SASUKE CALLED OUT FOR LOVING HIS COMRADES

“I’ve got to get to Naruto” I love your dedication Minato but I feel as though the loss of both of your arms makes helping more difficult

Kakashi is not NEARLY as surprised about this levitation thing as he should be. I think as this point he’s just like. ‘This might as well happen’

All other things aside Kaguya’s really fun to look at damn

Okay okay okay not to look for too much logic in this ninja show but don’t both Naruto and Sasuke have Six Paths chakra why can only Naruto float is a metaphor for Sasuke’s fall from grace

“I am Kaguya’s child” I can only imagine a Game of Thrones-eque shadow flying out the hooha situation

“Just before the seal took hold, she gave birth to me, in order that she could be restored” I can only assume Kaguya fucked Bitterness and Regret and you know.... fair enough

I gotta tell you Zetsu being the primary narrator of this arc is jarring

Tenji seems kinda nice it’s a shame something terrible will probably happen to him

Say what you will about SP’s animation inconsistencies they can animate some beautiful-ass skies

“Is there anything that you desire” Get u a man like Tenji

Fellas is it gay to sit under the stars with your handmaiden who adores you in comfortable silence

“Even now you’re not scared. That just makes me like you more” take a shot every time a man is Like That (bah dum tss) 

“Do Not Touch Me,” wow Kaguya mood

I will clarify I said that BEFORE she exploded the men gkhkjfhgkhh

Tenji, that Aino lady is your subordinate are you really gonna leave her with the creepy That man u are not the man I thought you were

“Just tell him, and I’m sure that Lord Tenji will forgive you” to be fair Aino you could’ve elaborated u were just like ‘yup she killed them’ and left it at that

WOW I RESCIND ALL COMPLIMENTS TO TENJI CALM DOWN DUDE

When life gives u lemons use people as fertilizer for ur infinite lemon tree I guess

Are you telling me 1) Gamamaru has existed since the DAWN OF CHAKRA and 2) He knew all about this Tsukuyomi shit just like. Kept it on the DL. WHAT KINDA WORLD-BUILDING

Okay but for real did the Otsutsuki clan stem like.... all the clans, because there’s the Kaguya clan (through Hamura I guess?), and the Hyuga clan definitely through Hamura, and then the Senju, Uchiha, and Uzumaki through Hagoromo like just how many people did your kids sleep with and for that matter how long ago was this

“A real talking toad! Think people would like it if we caught it and took it home?” Why are Hagoromo and Hamura the cutest things in the world this is the sibling content we deserve

“You’re just a snake oil salesman, and not a very good one” oh I think I love Hamura oh no I would love a character who gets stuck on the moon 

Take a shot every time a woman exists to die and make a man sad 

“She fell in love with the ruler of this land and in time she became pregnant with the two of you” notice that at no point does Gamamaru say they got married can u believe Kaguya invented premarital sex

You know none of this goes against mine and Sloane’s Kagumo theory

“How can you see so far into a toad’s heart that clearly” Gamamaru and Hagoromo’s interactions are killing me

How much time has passed for Hamura’s hair to grow that long

Hamura @ Kaguya: BROTHERS BEFORE MOTHERS

HOW MUCH TIME HAS PASSED FOR HAGOROMO TO DEVELOP THIS BROW RIDGE SAGE LAND TAKES A TOLL 

Tenji doesn’t even appear in this flashback about love and betrayal it’s just Kaguya being bitter bc her gal Aino died they were in lesbians together

Every so often I’m reminded that Kishimoto has a twin brother and I wonder what he thinks about making the twins fight

“You enabled me to awaken the mangekyo sharingan and rinnegan” how do u even have words for those things. Didn’t they just happen right this moment

Wow this is all very Little Shop of Horrors, Momma feeds the tree with people juice and in turn it wants to protect her from harm

“I split the Ten Tails into nine souls” SOULS? HAGOROMO CAN... JUST MAKE SOULS. COULD HE POINT AT GAMAMARU AND SAY “YOU ARE TWO FROGS NOW” AND THAT’D JUST BE TRUE?

“We won’t be that far apart,” said Hagoromo, just as his brother was about to teleport to the moon

Side note: Maybe ur crops were failing bc without the moon the tides are all out of whack and you know, the moon was apparently just invented right now

“Time passed, and so did Hagoromo” I love this particular literary device

“Time after time I’d approach the reincarnates of Indra and Ashura” okay so we’re supposed to be down for not only regular reincarnation in Naruto but Indra and Ashura ONLY BEING BORN TO THE SENJU AND UCHIHA CLANS REPEATEDLY WHAT WHO WROTE THIS

Does this mean that people Naruto and Sasuke every 50 years????You’d think the Land of Fire would just. Get used to it

“Just with that alone, a thousands years passed” well at least we have some idea of how much time it’s been since Kaguya era lmao 

Ur telling me that this horseshit happened bc Tobirama doesn’t know to leave dead bodies well enough alone

SHHHHH I PREFER THE ZETSU BEING WEIRD HASHIRAMA CLONES

This montage of Zetsu taking credit for everything Madara and Obito did is not appreciated lmao take some responsibility for your actions!!!!

I’m gonna keep harping on this for the rest of the war honestly like where is the ACCOUNTABILITY

“So your teen rebellion continues” LMAO UR NOT WRONG

“I know that this could be our last hurrah, but we gotta give it our best shot” not much of a plan Naruto sweetheart but fair

Tag urself I’m Kakashi’s look of despair at his hormonal students

“And Sasuke? Sorry that my sexy jutsu didn’t work” I was not prepared for the sincerity with which that line was delivered

The Sad Old Man™ energy radiating off Obito is... Immense 

“We’re all ready to die” R U THINKING OF RIN BC SHE WAS READY TO DIE OR BC UR READY TO SEE HER EITHER WAY IT’S SAD KAKASHI

“I want to thank you for helping me out. And for helping Sasuke” “No, there’s no need to thank me” this is the first time Obito has been right about something since the age of 13

“I’m not going to waste time on speeches,” said Obito, in the middle of a dramatic speech 

Minato..... how did you chop the branch.... with no hands to pick up a kunai???????? What kind of yoga contortion was involved

What I imagine the subtext of this scene to be:

Hagoromo: New old son!!!! I am dad now

Hashirama, whose dad was Butsuma: [choking back tears] Okay

Tobirama: I also hate our father

They’re all taking to this “demi-god pops out of the bottom half of dead ex-comrade” thing pretty well but to be fair they’ve had a complicated day

[chelsorz07]

I posted these as asks four years ago and never got to answer any so

THOUGHT YOU WERE DONE SEEING THESE FROM ME, DIDN’T YA? Me too, I’m so sorry

1. First thing you wash in the shower? Hair.

2. Are you more of a coffee or alcohol drinker? I have like two cups of coffee a month but have only drank booze twice in the past year so coffee I guess.

3. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? Many times.

4. Do you plan outfits? Sometimes I’ll want to wear a specific shirt but it’s rarely ever clean and I never pick out clothes sooner than right before my shower.

5. How are you feeling RIGHT now? Tired but I still have to put the garbage out before I can go to bed and my neck and knees are killing me so I can’t get off the couch. But I’m in an okay mood.

6. Whats the closest thing to you thats red? Throw pillow.

7. What would you do if you opened your door and saw a dead body? Idk I’d like to say I’d be a badass about it but honestly I’d probs scream.

8. Tell me about the last dream you remember having? I legit don’t remember. I dream every night but they usually fly right out of my head when I wake up.

9. Three of your current feelings? Tired, hungry, in pain. 

10. What are you craving right now? Cheeseburger and onion rings.

11. Turn ons? Um...intelligence, wit, shoulders, eyes, ginger beards.

12. Turn offs? Arrogance, chauvinism, people who don’t like cats.

13. What comes to mind when I say cabbage? Coleslaw.

14. When was the last time you cried? Why? I was doing a concert in my living room last night, as I often do, and some of the songs got me a little emosh.

15. If you could be a superhero, who would you want to be? Black Widow or Loki.

16. Did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize? No but she did change the way she treated me so I’m taking that for what it is.

17. Do you bite into your ice cream or just lick it? I don’t eat ice cream because it hurts my teeth no matter which method of eating I use.

18. Favorite movie ever? Bring it On.

19. Do you like yourself? Depends on the day. Actually it changes even more frequently than that.

20. Have you ever met a celebrity? Many. None will top Jensen Ackles though. Well. Except Misha. Note the double entendre lol

21. Could you handle being in the military? I definitely could not. I’m also too old to enlist even if I wanted to.

22. What are you listening to right now? Walking Dead, season 1 episode 2. Because every time I start the series over, I pick up from episode 3 since I don’t really care about anyone but Daryl until Jesus happens. But today I felt like a refresher from the beginning.

23. How many countries have you visited? I went to Canada once.

24. Are your parents strict? They were while I was being raised. Then my little sister had like no rules.

25. Would you go sky diving? No way.

26. Would you go out to eat with George W. Bush? Hell yeah.

27. Whats on your mind right now? I’m really just trying to gather the motivation to get up and pee, then take the garbage out so I can go to sleep.

28. Is there anything you want to say to someone? Ehh not really.

29. Have you ever been in a castle? No but I would tour the shit out of some if I had the opportunity.

30. Do you rent movies often? Almost never because who does that anymore? But we did just rent Mile 22 from the Redbox a few weeks ago. It was pretty meh for Wahlberg.

31. Whats your zodiac sign? Leo.

32. When was the last time you had sex? A month ago. Purely by circumstance. My husband is currently on week four of a five week work rotation in Texas.

33. Name five facts about yourself. Lord. I have rapidly deteriorating joints and it fucking hurts everywhere all the time. I’ve spent the past 48 hours going back through my entire tumblr, over 300 pages. I only make homemade mac n cheese, not boxed. I’m almost finished rereading every Desus fic on AO3 for the second time (some more than two but I mean going through literally every page). One of my cats is sitting above my head and purring really loudly and another is sitting to my left snoring.

34. Ever had a near death experience? If so, what happened? Got caught driving in a blizzard. Spun off the road several times, including once off of an on-ramp. Like do not enter, wrong direction. If I hadn’t made it to the hotel right next to the on-ramp I really would’ve been fucked.

35. Do you believe in karma or predestiny? Not really.

36. Brown or white eggs? White.

37. Do you own something from Hot Topic? Most of my material possessions are from the hot topical, yes. Clothes, jewelry, funkos, makeup, miscellaneous other merch. It’s like a lot.

38. Ever been on a train? I have not.

39. Ever been in love? I am.

40. If you were paid 1 million dollars to spend the night in a supposed haunted house, would you do it? I hate this question. Of course I want a million dollars. But I’ve always wanted to stay in a haunted house anyway.

41. If you could trade places with any person living or dead, who would you trade places with? JJ Ackles. Except that I wouldn’t wish my life on her. Can we just be siblings instead?

42. If you could shorten your life expectancy by 10 years to become more attractive, would you do it? I’m already attractive. And my life expectancy isn’t that high as it is.

43. Whom do you admire and why? My husband because he does crazy shit like work 35 days in a row when he’s only supposed to work 14 just to make sure all our bills are paid and we have savings because I’m too crippled to work at all right now.

44. What was your favorite bedtime story as a child? I didn’t get bedtime stories.

45. You’re walking down the street, you come across a burning building. A woman says her baby is trapped inside, what would you do? I am literally capable of doing nothing, except maybe let her use my phone to call 911 if she hasn’t already.

46. If you could choose the future profession of your son or daughter, would you? No. I can’t even choose my own profession.

47. What was your best experience on drugs or alcohol? Idk about best but my most recent one was pretty good. I hadn’t had alcohol in over a year but a few weeks ago my sister turned 21 and we had family game night at my parents’ house so I got a little buzzed on some grapefruit White Claws and for about four hours I wasn’t in physical pain. Plus we all had a really good time just hanging out and playing games and everybody got along. That has 100% never happened in my family before. Also the last time I smoked weed, which was MANY years ago, like 6 or 7, it had the same effect and reduced my joint pain.

48. What was your worst experience on drugs or alcohol? Worst with drugs was the night I smoked an entire joint just in my living room alone and it must have been strong shit because I threw up immediately. Worst experience drinking was probably all of 2010.

50. As you’re walking down the street you find a suitcase full of money sitting next to a parked car, would you take it? Probs I’m desperate and not that great of a person.

51. If you found that a close friend has AIDS, would you still hang out with them? Yes? WTF kind of question is that? It’s 2019, AIDS isn’t cooties.

52. In front of you are 10 pistols, 5 of which are loaded. If you survive you’d receive 100 million dollars. Would you be willing to place 1 to your head and pull the trigger? Depends what kind of pistol. If it’s a revolver you can see the rounds in the barrel. 

53. How old were you when you lost your virginity? 20.

54. Do you believe in ghosts, werewolves or vampires? Nope. Well I still haven’t ruled out ghosts but I also know how to dispatch them so.

55. If you could live forever, would you want to? HELL naw.

56. Which fictional movie character most resembles who you are? Janice Ian.

57. If you could go back in time, which time period would you visit? We love a renaissance.

58. If they were to televise a live execution, would you watch it? Probably.

59. If you could be the president of the USA, would you be willing to do it? Not even for like a day.

60. If you could choose the sex of your unborn child, would you want to? Yes. I want a girl. Come for me.

61. Would you rather live longer or be wealthy? I want that money beech.

[angstymarshmallow]

Fresh Start (Hunt x MC)

[A little note: After that chapter with Viktor Montemartre..I just have a lot of conflicting feelings. So on a whim, I wrote this. There isn’t a lot of details in regards to what happened, I feel like sexual harassment is a very tenative topic, and if you aren’t comfortable with any mentions of it - feel free to ignore seeing this across your dash. Plus I’ve waited like 10 years to write hunt x mc fanfiction lol. P.S. If you read this, thanks so much for reading! I’ve been feeling really down about everything, even my writing so this always means a lot!].

[Word Count: 2102]

[Tags:  @mariamatsuo @mrswalkerwrites, @nerdpossible, @mysteli, @simplyaiden-blog, @innerpostmentality  @craftytacotrashdream, @nathan-sterling, if you want to be added or removed from this list - let me know].

Her hands are shaking and much to no avail – she cannot get the shaking to stop. They tremble harder the longer she stares, and she stares at them like it is the first time she has paid attention to the smooth planes in her palm. 

Yet, very quickly – her hands change. 

They turn paler by the second and she watches in complete horror as they warp; blurring until the next time she blinks they are suddenly too big and too board to be hers; too manicured to belong to her. An image of Viktor Montmartre burns itself through the wall she’s placed inside her head.

Her heart nearly comes to a stop and the music pulsating around her quickly filters out. It becomes background noise while she studies her hands. It’s impossible – she knows it cannot be his hands that is attached to her skin and yet her haggard mind seems to feel differently.

Her stomach drops and she clenches her fists. She digs little moons into her palms as she forcibly drops them to her sides. She has to convince herself that it isn’t real – not this part.

The alcohol simply isn’t doing its justice.

She shifts forward into her bar stool and catches sight of her phone’s bright light from the corner of her eyes. She ignores the incoming text from her friends and grits her teeth.

She swears she can still feel his stare, gazing at her hungrily despite her protests and indignation when he suggested she slept with him. She can still feel his breath unwantedly grazing her neck when he pulled her solidly against his chest, and his fingers tugged her into him, reeking of cologne before she finally managed to wrench herself free.

She squeezes her eyes shut and forces the bile she feels rising to her throat back. She can’t think like that. She can’t let him win.

Today marks two weeks since it happened, two weeks since the moment she walked away from Viktor Montmartre’s…nauseating and horrifying deal. She knows she’s shut her friends out in the days she chose to spend moping inside her home with only her ocelot for company. Shutting everyone out has been the only way for her to pretend she’s okay but after two weeks, she could ignore them no longer.  

Tonight is supposed to be some kind of celebration from her leaving her home and joining them back in the waking world. Although she doesn’t have anything lined up after the action movie deal blew up in her face – she’s kept a wide berth from the public.

You’re here to have fun Tate, not to mope. A small voice implores her, begs her as she watches the empty shot glass in front of her.

Except the thought of his cold hands on her – it isn’t something she can easily forget. Even after the rounds of shots she’s done, even after the fourteen days since she bounded the steps of his manor – it doesn’t feel quite like it’s over. For her, it’s still happening, as if any minute now the door of this club would open and her blood would run cold once she meets his chilly stare across the room.

She has to get out of here.

She’s already half-way off the stool, chugging the new shot she’s ordered when her brain persists and orders her to stop. No Tate, you can’t think like that. You can’t give him that kind of power over you – that satisfaction that he’s broken you.

The words don’t sound like her; they sound like her mother on the night when she told her.  Like a tidal wave, the words sweep her into its embrace, providing her strength she’s never known she was capable of. And for a moment, she wants to push past the fear that threatens to cripple her. She can’t let something like this ruin her – she won’t let it. And yet, it doesn’t stop the insidious thoughts from filtering through after finding cracks she’s tried so desperately behind to slip through.

“Excuse me,Tatum...?”

Her eyes fly open at the familiar voice’s greeting. To say it’s unexpected was putting it mildly. She places an arm across the bar counter to steady herself as she turns to meet his expression. Thomas Hunt in the flesh is standing a littles less than five feet from her – looking concerned as ever as his eyes sweep up and down to take in her dishelmed appearance.

           Five shots of tequila definitely did not do the trick. “Thomas Hunt?” She says uncertaintly, “The Thomas Hunt? – The one that wanted to sign me on his next new movie?” She’s babbling but she can’t help it, she thinks if she stops she won’t have anything more to distract herself with. She thinks if she stops, she’ll think of Viktor.

“The very one and the same,” he replies good-naturedly. “Good evening, are you –” He steps closer and involuntarily she winces. His brows creases. “Are you quite alright?”

Yes. It is the automatic answer she’s always given; the answer she’s said without thinking to her friends ever since it happened. “Yes, I’m fine.” She tries to keep her voice steady but thinks she fallen short of her mark the moment he frowns.

“You aren’t alright,” he says this a matter-of-factly, but doesn’t seem capable of pursing it any further.

Tatum thinks he’s waiting for her to say more. “What are you doing here?” She tries to change the subject instead; deflecting and directing attention off herself has always been one of her best coping mechanisms. “I thought this wasn’t your sort of thing.” She’s proud of herself for finding it in her to keep her voice light, and teasing. Already she can feel the buzz fading, receding and forcing her thoughts to the present. Need more alcohol, she thinks to herself while she waits for his answer.

She hails the bartender for another drink with the flick of her wrist. “It isn’t a celebration without drinks. What’s your poison?”

“I prefer to order for myself,” Thomas interjects thinly. “Although, I hardly think this place can meet the standards of my particular palette.”

“We can try.” The bartender states flatly, although he’s cordial enough to smile.

Thomas orders and mercifully, the bartender does his best to follow his crisp directions.

Silence falls between them for the better half of a minute while they wait for the arrival of their drinks. Tatum turns to him, “I thought you were too good to be seen in places like this.”

“Oh, I am,” Thomas replies shortly, tucking his hands into his tailored coat. “I was just…” he trails off for a moment, seeming lost in thought. “After I heard about what happened with Tommy Phelps…”

Hearing his name and the movie that was completely out of her hands makes Tatum wince. She downs her drink quickly as Thomas pauses again; his brows forming that familiar crease again.

“Perhaps this is better discussed in a more private area.”

Viktor Montmartre’s cruel smirk grips her mind. The reaction is instantaneous. She flinches, and sucks in a deep breath. Her reaction is pure instinct and instead of taking his outstretched arm, she reels away and clenches her hands into fist at her sides. The words come out in a rush, hot and angry as she points flippantly at him. “I am not going anywhere with you.” She storms past him and ignores the quizzical look on his face.

“I think there is some confusion –”

“Oh, there’s no confusion.” She whips her head around; gray eyes the colour of cement steel as they glare up at him. I’m not going to be a victim – never ever again. “Whatever you’re offering – I don’t want it.”

“Tatum,” his eyes flash with confusion but she isn’t fooled.

“Anything you need to say to me, you can say it here!” She yells, folding her arms.

“I’m not where this…aggression is coming from, but I assure you – the quality of my movie would far than rival anything else Tommy Phelps had in store for you. In fact,” he steps a little closer; his voice lowering to match his shrewd gaze. “I think it’s impervious we go forward with making you my lead.”

Her eyes widen. The smart-ass remark she’s been sitting on for the last several minutes vanishes. “You – what?” She stares up at him in disbelief. Even after every curve ball Viktor has tried to block in her career – and Tommy Phelps dropping her as his lead; she didn’t think anyone in this city wanted to work with her ever again.

“I require you for my movie.” He implores, “no one has been able to fill the shoes I know you can fill.” His eyes search hers; more open and honest than she thinks is possible for someone like Thomas Hunt. “They all fall a little short in some fashion and I,” He averts his eyes for a moment, “I would be a fool no to take advantage of such raw talent.”

Tatum stares at him, completely stunned. The last thing she had anticipated was this. Involuntarily, tears seem to swell from the corner of her eyes. “You want to work with…me?”

“I thought that was obvious, yes.” He says impatiently.

“But, you shouldn’t.” She can’t believe she’s saying this but she knows enough about Thomas Hunt and the quality he creates that her current reputation presented a predicament. She isn’t a fool to think he hasn’t heard what Viktor has said about her – all the horrid things he sold to gossip magazines as her coming onto to him as a way of using his success to climb her way to the top. “You’re better off finding someone that isn’t…” She trails off, staring blankly her feet. Someone that hasn’t been tarnished by the media.

The impatient noise he makes at the back of her throat throws her. She stares up at him; watching those often intense-looking dark brown eyes flicker over in annoyance. “If you’re looking for pity Tatum you won’t find that here. I was under the impression that you were a hard worker and your passion for acting seemed second to none.” A frown flits over his face, “if something as ridiculous as rumors will deter you so easily then perhaps you are not what I am looking for.”

As he turns to leave, she stares at his retreating figure. He doesn’t believe in them, he doesn’t care about rumors, Tatum thinks with a jolt of surprise. She doesn’t know why – but realizing he isn’t concerned with such things, makes her heart flutter.

Tatum shakes her head clear. She knows she’s running out of options – the upkeep of her home alone won’t pay for itself without something. And while she cannot remember the important details of his script, Tatum recognizes that this was one of those-once-in-a-lifetime opportunities her mother had used endlessly talk about the last time she did a talent show.

Tatum’s hands extend and reach for his arm without even thinking. “Wait!”

His body comes to a complete stop so swiftly that she nearly knocks into him. Digging her feet into her heels, she plants them with enough force to stop herself from tittering over embarrassingly into him. “I’ll do it.” She says quietly. At the quirk of his eyebrows, she quickly rushes on. “I’ll accept your deal.” She takes a ragged breath. “I want to be the next lead in your movie.”

For a moment, Tatum fears he won’t accept her sudden change of heart. His eyes are too hard to read in this light, and although he hasn’t moved away as though he’s quietly deliberating on something – she’s suddenly struck with panic that he’s withdrawn his offer.

Then the strangest thing happens.

Thomas smiles.

He smiles and Tatum thinks she has never seen something as beautiful as his smile in her entire life. She has always thought the director was handsome, one of the richest bachelors in his own rite but the way those lips of his move; unaccustomed to the confident smile – she feels light-headed.

His face seems to linger on hers’, flits down to her lips; or perhaps she is seeing things once they meet her earnest gaze.

And just as quickly, the smile fades as his hand reached out to steady her. His smile is replaced by a curt nod as he drops his hands back to his sides. “I will see you bright and early tomorrow.” He hands her a card in flourish.

“Tomorrow?” She echoes dumbfoundedly. His name is printed in large and eloquent cursive writing along with an obscure logo from the dainty piece of paper.

“Tomorrow.” He repeats, and before Tatum can thank him – he is already gone; moving through the crowd at a terse pace to escape the music and the people.

She hides a smile as her thumb traces over the thick letters of his name, hoping this deal is exactly the fresh start she needs.

-

[ziggory]

Riverdale Liveblogs 3x07 - 3x13

Instead of making you all suffer through six separate liveblogs as I was catching up, have them all in on post!

3x07, “The Man in Black”

Remember when Jughead was the biggest woobie ever with a bunch of sad shit happening to him. Fun times. Honestly, Jughead’s just really taking advantage of finally being on the roadtrip he was denied

Justice for Jingle Jangle. Why did we need a new drug? Or I’d be fine with it complementing the other but NOooOooOOOO. It’s trying to shove JJ out of the spotlight!

Elvis’ granddaughter could’ve just drugged the eggs but instead she chose to nearly give Archie a concussion. Hiram might chop her head off if his Archiekins gets permanent brain damage

Let Archie kill a man!! Jughead got to skin someone who was fucking up his life. Why can’t he let Archie take his shot!? I can’t hear you about consequences

Your business is failing because trading away the final piece of the Soutshide to open a vanity project in the form of a dry speakeasy was not a great idea. Also, gamers can give you business. I’ve seen it!

The show can make Veronica say all these supposedly empowering lines, but I’m never going to forget that she supported a for-profit prison

MAYBE MY DAD’S NOT SO BAD!!?!?

This voiceover was completely unnecessary. Honestly, it’s sort of a slap in the face to Lili’s acting as if they didn’t think she could convey certain things without some hand holding

I’ve seen movies. They make you swallow that shit on the spot

So many negative thoughts being awkwardly confirmed

Honestly, this is what happens when you keep exploiting the place for abuses to help your investigations but never fucking shut it down

3x08, “Outbreak”

Does Moose need drugs to get it up? He said Midge liked to get wild, but methinks he liked it of his own volition as well. And just what I wanted. Shadowy makeouts while high on drug laced childhood candy

Kevin needs to find out who put a curse on his dick. ANOTHER hookup interrupted by bodies in danger

I don’t know why a group of high school boys acting like typical jackass high school boys with loud laughing is cause for thinking they’re all high.

“good people like Archie” 

Gladys being a Jarchie shipper is pure. I will not stand for this no homoing

Wait, Cheryl did actually get to be Student Body President? I thought they were just going to let that circle the drain and disappear

MY FAVORITE INCOMPETENT EDUCATIONAL ADMINISTRATOR

THE PRISON WAS A FUCKING COVER?!?!? So all of S2 was just…oh my fucking god, I’m going to do drown myself

“good looking shortsatck” Love it. Goddamn, I love Gladys

Do they know that the way they write Hiram and Veronica feels like it’s been dipped in ten layers of incest? He talks to her like she’s the mistress he wants to bed

The affection the Jones women have for Archie is cute

The Gargoyle King being a hallucination is the most disappointing thing

TABLETOP RPGS ARE NOT FUCKING BORN OF MADNESS. Ugh, my inner geek is angry with rage

Oh, now you care about the kids in conversion therapy

So I guess they didn’t go to Toledo for Christmas??

Lili should get a raise for this Griffin Queen shit

I’m more emotional than I would usually be over these Fred scenes given Luke Perry’s recent condition

PROTECT THAT FUCKING DOG WITH YOUR FUCKING LIFE!! THROW YOURSELF IN FRONT OF A BEAR

I missed alcoholic Hermione. And lmao this Watchmen realness

I love Silent!Kevin getting nothing to say in that office! Just fucking great

we need to know more about this fucking Governor. Racist piece of shit who gets upset about vandalized statues of genocidal war criminals, AND he’s under Hiram’s thumb.

3x09, “No Exit”

Will someone get bit by a monkey? I can only hope

Oh fuck off with the Star Wars reference. IT DOESN’T FIT

Stealing from the rich to give to the rich. How very one percenter. And Toni, all your friends are living in tents by the river

KEVIN. WHY THE FUCK DO YOU ALWAYS JOIN THE WORST GROUPS

While the implication of Jughead sleeping over is nice, what the fuck was the point of last episode’s cliffhanger. This timeline makes no sense

I’M GETTING FIREWATCH VIBES

They’re so fucking low budget that they couldn’t even show the bear, LMAO

I forgot what Fangs sounded like. Didn’t FP retire? ARE THERE EVEN ANY ADULTS LEFT IN THIS FUCKING JOKE OF A GANG. But Damn, Fangs is good at crying. So pretty

Aww, I actually missed the hammy ass warden

Every time Joaquin’s name is mentioned, another dagger in my heart

The fact that the sisters have been fake nuns this whole time is just…what the fuck. AND THE FUCKING SOCIAL WORKER KNEW AND JUST LET THEM KEEP OPERATING!?!? LET THIS WHOLE FUCKING TOWN FALL INTO A HELLMOUTH

Remember when Jughead was outraged about the Serpents being paid security at the Pickens festival thing? Time is a flat circle

CHERYL, WHY DON’T YOU JSUT KILL HIRAM THEN

“SAVED”!??! REALLY NANA ROSE!?! IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL THE CHILD GROOMING YOU DID!? And uh, Fred and Sierra should know about that sordid piece of Penelope’s past

Damn, Veggie is hot as fuck

You know who else could’ve gone undercover for the Serpents to infiltrate the Gargoyle gang?!????? I HATE YOU FOREVER, RAS. ANOTHER AU FOR THE DRAWER

3x10, “The Stranger”

LMAO that they tried to make us think Archie died

Being attacked by a bear in Canada means not having to suffer through crippling debt because of the hospital bill for the rest of your life

Sidenote, but I really thought the painting of Veronica would have a bug or something. The fact that she just kept the painting instead of burning it says something

Oh so the core four are THOSE type of friends

Betty’s money >> those kids

Claudius just doesn’t want to do actual work

They let a kid pass the first grade when he couldn’t read? So the educational system has always been rather shit

Hey there, Silent!Kevin! Just sitting silently with your slowly developing biceps

Does Reggie know what PTSD is

I spy with my little eyes Kevin in the corner putting his PE clothes away! Once again robbed of a shirtless scene

FUCKING TALL BOY!?!? Lol, this is really good for my drawer fic actually. Keep sounding like a spiteful man! It’s semi feeding me

Wow, they really crammed in two Varchie sex scenes

Hiram deserved this and every agonizing second of pain he felt

Raw milk, huh? Yeah, that’s all you need to bait Kevin into this cult

Bye Claudius, no one will miss you

I want Hermione/FP to fuck

Jughead throwing a party to make things better is the biggest twist this series has ever done

Archie the alcoholic, eh. If this lasts more than one episode, that’d sure be something

3x11, “The Red Dahlia”

This is the noir episode, isn’t it. I’m…really bad with noir so an episode from THIS team is going to be…very trying

Awww, FP mentioning Joaquin is an extra pang. I wanted to know more about their relationship

I’d love to see the notes on this draft when Jughead tries submitting it to a publisher. Unless he goes the self pub route

Who even runs the newspaper now?

Betty, you’re like the last person to talk about black and white morality

Archie sounds like the protagonist of Office Space at the end when he finds his calling in construction

ELIO HAS SPOKEN MORE THAN MELODY EVER DID. EAT SHIT, RAS

I still need Jughead and Veronica arguing about classic cinema

I wonder where Penelope learned those crocodile tears, Nana. Like I never need a scene of her criticizing her ADOPTED DAUGHTER again

Cheryl is pretty forgiving of the uncle who sort of helped with her institutionalization

Have these boys never watched an episode of Breaking Bad? Put that body in a barrel

So has Veronica had a change of heart about Daddykins? I’m so confused

SMITHERS!?!? YOu’RE STILL ALIVE!? Protect this man

Remember when Betty was a camgirl for ten seconds and watched all of her fake brother’s porn videos

Josie’s voice is pure butter, and the show needs to stop pretending that we want to hear anyone else sing

Why doesn’t Toni have a job at Veronica’s dry speakeasy? She used to be an actual bartender!

“Kevin’s dad boxes at the gym” being a line from Josie is the most beautiful line in this episode

Well at least they explained the seizures.

YYYAAAAAASSSS, KELLY RIPPA!!

What is even the point of Minetta having faked his death just to be Hermione’s kept man

Well, damn, I really didn’t see this FP reveal coming. I wish he was the sheriff Hermione was fucking. And given all the things Jughead used to say and aim at Keller, it’s interesting to see him have to deal with his dad being somewhat in Hermione’s pocket

PULL THE FUCKING TRIGGER, ARCHIE

Lmao at this Bad Boys line. I see you, synergy

Honestly, how dare Archie shoot the person who was going to kill Hiram. I guess that’s one way to bury the Archie/Hiram grudge

Hermione’s trigger finger is life goals

3x12, “Bizarrodale”

So first off, fuck that title and everything it implies.

Second, this is the episode where I’m supposed to finally get fed, eh? FINGERS CROSSED

I forgot what Kevin sounded like after not talking for four episodes

WHEN CAN WE MEET KEVIN’S MOM!?!? I HAVE MANY FANCASTS

Veronica watches Netflix confirmed, and yet I guess she just scrolls past Orange is the New Black every time it’s recommended to her

Why are Kevoose makeouts always in shadow? Is it to disguise the fact that when they makeout it’s with their lips sealed shut

The actor who plays Major Mason followed me back on my burner instagram

Awww, Sweet Pea is a relationship guy with a gooey little heart!

Sierra pegs Tom confirmed. Love these two kinky fuckers

The way Tom says “Gargoyle King” goes straight to my nether regions

So does Britta have a kink for people outing others against their will? I swear this is a plot point in Ship It too

I feel like these issues are something they should’ve talked about way more. Making Moose’s coming out be an ultimatum is pretty gross

How DARE they not let us hear Josie sing?!??! Ohhhh, if we’d heard Josie sing then we would sent death threats to the fake Juilliard board. I never want to hear Josie’s teary little voice again because it hurts my feelings

Lmao, this is the second time a parent has been judgmental of how the Lodges involve Veronica in their business

Remember that time Moose and Cheryl made out? I’m forever traumatized by that

Hiram and Hermione strolling in like a fucked up Gomez and Morticia

I’m sure that Dilton would approve of his friend from another lifetime using his secret bunker to pop his cherry. But only Moose. Yes, I ship comics Dilton/Moose

Oh, HeeEYEEEEEEE, IT’S LIKE A BUNCH OF MY FIC DREAMS COME TO LIFE. Wow, I finally got pandered to. Kevin being in dagner is like…the basis of the majority of my drawer fics

I’M FUCKING PSYCHIC X2!!!! Well huh, this puts that earlier diner scene in a new light

Yesss, please keep calling him Tommy and talking about how Kevin looks like your old friend with that sad, wistful tone. Please feed my fic bunnies

Christ, Ashleigh has such a fucking amazing voice. I can actually bear KJ’s singing

Moose having to leave makes sense. ALSO MAKE SURE YOU WATCH CODY”S SHOW ON NETFLIX TO MAKE THIS WORTH IT

I never want to see Kevin cry again. Fucking Maramaduke

Gladys can step on me, and I’d apologize

3x13, REQUEIM FOR A WELTERWEIGHT

I’M FINALLY ALL FUCKING CAUGHT UP

I don’t think that bacon is fully cooked

So Veronica just decided to not move back out because the path of least resistance?? And she’s back in her Daddy’s clutches because....he got shot???

The Serpent with the awesome dreads is still there! Can he be an actual character with a name? He deserves it

Between last episode and this one, I am being fucking BLESSED with Daddy Keller content. 

VERONICA IS a FUCKING REPUBLICAN CONFIRMED. I guess we all know who scrolled right past 13th on Netflix! 

They’re really trying to sweep up their awkward plot mistakes from last season, eh

I need a flashback of young Alice in this ugly fucking wedding dress

This is some Rocky and Mickey shit. Hopefully Keller doesn’t have a heart attack while confronting Mr. T

YES, GLADYS!!! CALL OUT THAT LEADERSHIP!

San Junipero water, huh. 

Why is Archosie so perfect

Ehhhh, the last time they talked was eight episodes ago. Will this scene be about how Kevin’s recovering post-Moose?? Of course not. My hopes for investigative Kevin are once again yanked away. Though of course remember that time she got him to catfish a murderer without telling him that Chic had killed someone?? Fun times

“cute gay farmies”

Veronica is the opposite intimidating ESPECIALLY in the face of Gladys who we all know has actually fucked up a bitch

The monstrous Freeform ate Malachai, eh. Ghoulie jackets are still the best jackets

I’ve never watched Apocalypse Now so this scene is wasted on me

THUNDERDOME!!?!?

Keller looks like he gives good hugs

How the fuck did Jason learn about The Farm?

This is Polly’s revenge for being sent to the Sisters

It’s awkward how Choni just sort of disappeared from the episode

Damn, Archosie has everything going on

Hermione, you should’ve just killed Hiram when you had the chance

PROTECTIVE BIG BROTHER JUGHEAD!

Gladys doling out gang advice is just everything I wanted from her

[couple100miles]

Story time!

My weight is something I’ve struggled with for the last 10 years. Even going through high school, I always thought I weighed a lot more compared to my friends. This was actuallly such a stupid thought, considering that I was only 110 at most (I’m 5’0. My friends were just twigs.) My parents always made sure I was eating home cooked meals with plenty of vegetables to prevent me from getting any bigger, since they also thought I was chubby.

When I first moved away to college was when I started noticing I was getting heavier. The freshmen 15 is real man. Except mine was more freshmen 30 (this point I’m still 5’0 and 140, give or take) I stopped being active (I played sports in HS) and stopped going to the gym. I was just enjoying all the freedom and delicious foods in this new city, and being able to go out to different places with my new friends (who were also very small)

I stayed pretty stagnant throughout my first 1.5 years. Then I met my boyfriend. Relationship weight is also real. I quickly went from 140 to 170 through all of our amazing and fun dates and trips with one another. I was 170 throughout the ending of my sophomore through junior year.

My senior year was the worst. I was taking the maximum amount of credits allowed (I think I was at 18 with my major and minor) worked full time, interned part time, held an executive board position with my sorority, and finally (officially) moved in with my boyfriend. I was out every Monday through Saturday from 8am to at least 9 or 10pm. I lived off of convenient meals (fast foods, ramen, microwaveable meals) and Red Bull.

Stress eating got the best of me as well, since during this time I was going though some financial hardships (my rent, my bills, my tuition), being far away from my family, stressing out about grades, and also finding my first job after university. I ended up not getting my period for 6 months. (Is this TMI?) At this point, I was the heaviest I’ve ever been (190 ish, tbh I stopped looking at the scales)

My family made non stop comments about my weight when I would go home. My boyfriend’s family as well. I felt huge compared to all of my friends. I hated how I looked liked in all my photos. And because of my bad eating habits, I developed adult acne (I had clear skin in high school)

I just felt so. Ugly. Both inside and out. I felt sick all the time. And could barely walk up a flight of stairs. My friends are gorgeous and I wouldn’t want to hang out with them in fear of people saying I was the ugly friend. (My crippling anxiety, y’all)

The bad eating finally caught onto my health and I was sick for about 2 months after graduating. I couldn’t find a job, and did not know what to do with my degree. My amazing boyfriend supported me throughout this whole ordeal and even picked up extra hours at work to be able to handle all of our finances with me not working. I didn’t see anyone but him and just 1 of my best friends for 2 months during this whole thing. I was depressed. And still eating.

With me being out of school and only having 1 job (I finally got offered a job 3 months after graduating) I was able to get my stress eating down. I lost a little bit of weight (180 ish at this point). I was still turning to fast foods and unhealthy meals. But I was starting to feel a little healthier now that I wasn’t worried over finals or finding a job.

Then my boyfriend got laid off from his job. His high paying, amazing hours and benefits, down the street from our apartment, job. The stress eating returned. 185. — He actually got a new job pretty quickly as a personal trainer. He fell in love with his new job of helping people live a better life, and wanted that for me as well. We started gymming more and being more active. I was able to go back to 170 ish with just going to the gym at least 2 times a week. I was still eating crap, don’t get me wrong, but it was something.

Eventually tho, I think I just got tired. I got tired of comparing myself to my friends. Tired of hearing my family call me big. Tired of thinking everyone is talking about my weight. I needed to make a change for me and my health.

With our finances in order, I recently (and by recently I mean December 2018) decided I was going to go through a fitness/weight loss journey. I’ve been trying for the last year to get this in order, but now I’m taking it seriously. No fad diets, no binge eating when I’m stressed. No cheat days and no indulging on expensive and fattening foods. I figured I only have 1 life and 1 body, and I need to take care of it.

In November 2018 I was 170. I would get fast food at least once everyday. Would gym 3 times a week. And drink sodas and alcohol often.

It’s now March 2019, and I’m at 150 and 5’1 (I grew an inch and can’t believe it. Lol). I cook and prep all of my meals at home. I don’t get fast food, completely cut off sodas and sugary drink, and I stopped purchasing processed foods. I gym 4 to 5x every week and go grocery shopping for fresh ingredients often.

Not only am I feeling better about my health, I honestly feel happier and more energetic. My acne is starting to get less large and inflamed, and I overall just feel like I’m in a better place in my life. A place I haven’t been to since before high school.

I still have a long way to go (I want to lose a lot more body fat & inches) and I want to be able to feel completely beautiful without makeup. But I’m going somewhere and I’m really excited to see what I can accomplish.

If you’re still here at this point. Thank you. Thank you for reading and being a part of my journey. I would love to share my tips and recipes to anyone, and would love to meet people who are going through similar issues like me. Let’s keep each other motivated and live a healthier life in 2019 🥰

[sl-c]

Lol I agree you are so different now like you used to be all about natural and clean eating and stuff and had a sober mind and self love, now you're getting 'Lit af' with the 'squad' every second night drinking anything alcoholic and half naked twerking on Instagram stories literally working at a dildo / sex shop .. honestly hope it's just a bad phase though and good luck x

this is so utterly pathetic, honestly. Do you even think before you type or listen to what you’ve written? Do you just go around attacking people & getting some sick gratification out of it, particularly people who literally just opened up their hearts about some deep struggles in the hope to help others? This is so cowardly & childish, I don’t know how you take yourself seriously & clearly you don’t know me at all. 

If you think this is gonna impact me in anyway shape or form you’re sorely mistaken. No single person in this universe has the energy for, nor do they deserve dealing with, spiteful individuals like yourself; & to top of it off I certainly won’t accept it. I’d leave it here but I actually really enjoying biting back sometimes so here’s a few more things I’d like to add~

this just in, talking shit to & about people + putting people down for whatever reason is not ok. I don’t know how in this day & age with the amount of education we get on bullying & the consequences of bullying people still don’t get the fucking message. Abusing someone, whether it be in person, or like a coward anonymously online can cause someone all kinds of serious damage. Just take a moment & think how you’d feel if someone came at you like you did  to me & also how you’d feel if you found a message like this was what pushed someone over the edge to commit suicide; how would you like to have that burden on your shoulders for the rest of your life. You may get something out of attacking people & hiding behind a computer screen, but don’t you dare think that comes without consequences. Grow up. Think about the consequences for your actions & stop playing this bullshit petty game. I couldn’t care less about this kind of message because while you sit behind your little computer screen thinking you’re all mighty & having a good ol’ sick laugh to yourself I’m spending my time studying, working, chasing my dreams & getting goddamn further in life then you ever will. 

I changed? oh wow, what’s new, life is all about fucking change & I’d be damned if you haven’t changed in your life time. Yeah I drink now, what is it to you? Most adults drink regularly, so why is it that me drinking is such a sin to the universe & particularly to you. I love having a drink with mates, being relaxed, having wine in a bubble bath, treating myself & reducing my anxiety, yeah sometimes I over do it, yeah sometimes I use it to deal with emotions & yeah I like to party sometimes so fucking SUE ME! Some of the best nights of my life have involved alcohol & it has done me so much good in terms of coming out of my shell, reducing my anxiety & finding myself. No alcohol isn’t healthy for you, but life is about balance & I’d rather live a shorter but more fulfilled, happy & eventful life then one where I was 100% ‘good/clean’ all the time but missed out on so many different experiences & opportunities. Whether, how much & how often someone wants to drink is there choice & you have no damn right judging other people for decisions that are theirs. Get off your high horse. 

Ohhhhh the classic I show too much skin, please, I’ve never heard that before! Sorry (not at all) that I’m comfortable in my skin & aren’t conditioned to sexualise & critique the female body. Sorry (again, not at all) that after years of suffering medical conditions that crippled & shrunk my body I feel proud to show how I have got myself to such a healthy place, which you may want to know has lead so many others to seek improvements within their own health; a huge part of why I shared my story & talk so openly about myself & my life. Sorry (yeah never truly going to mean that) that I feel remotely proud about how hard I work in the gym & that after wanting to be able to twerk for so long I now have a big & strong enough butt to be able to do it; it also feels fucking amazing, which clearly you mustn’t know. Dancing makes me feel good & empower, & this time I genuinely am sorry because you clearly can’t know what that feels like. 

She worked in a sex shop - no, I worked in a luxury boutique that features exclusive luxury lingerie & a select range of sex toys & bondage. I got to help women (& men) feel better about themselves, empower themselves, feel special, strengthen relationships & improve lives every single day; how horrible of me! How horrible it is for me to be passionate about wanting to help others be comfortable in themselves & embrace everything they are. I don’t care what you think about Honey or what you think you know about Honey, but working there was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had & I miss it all the time. Aside from allowing me to help others it helped me open a part of myself I had hidden for so long & really get comfortable with who I am. It also helped me grow up, taught me about responsibility, taught me more about money, opened my eyes to parts of the world I was yet to be exposed too (good & bad), educated me further on sexuality which has truly been a game changer & helped me with so much I could never have imagined, the list goes on forever. 

So sure, you can sit behind your little desk & judge, call me whatever you want, accuse me of whatever you want but there is nothing you can say that will ever make me second guess who I am, where I’ve come from & the decisions I make for a second. 

[hennessy-jacen]

Jacen Hennessy (Pre-Henneson)

Basic Facts.

What is Your Character’s Name?

Jacen with a "c", Denver like the city, Hennessy like the brandy.

How does the character feel about his or her name?

I like it well enough. It's a great conversation starter.

How did he or she get this name? Was it passed on from a family member, or did the parents read it on the side of a cereal box the day the child was born?

My parents wanted to be unique? Just swapped an "s" for a "c", an "o" for an "e"? They met in Denver and my dad is super

Irish

. Like embarrassingly Irish.

What is the meaning of the name?

It comes from a Gaelic name that sounds similar but is spelled with more vowels than I can fit in my mouth.

What culture did the name originate from?

Irish.

Super

Irish.

What regions of the world did the name come from?

Ireland. Like many Irish things.

What connotations or stereotypes does the name have?

I'm an alcoholic from Colorado named Jason?

_____________________________________________________________________________________

How old is your character?

25

When was he or she born?

October 5, 1991

What events were happening locally, nationally and globally the year your character was born?

Terminator came out. My parents got into a fight cause my mom insisted on watching it in theaters six months pregnant. So basically Arnold Schwarzenegger is to blame for everything that's wrong with me.

What is the zodiac sign?

Libra

Does his or her zodiac sign have any bearing on their personality traits?

My mom says I have great patience like all good Libras.

What Chinese Horoscope year were they born in?

The year of the great goat lol

How does this influence their personality traits?

I make b-a-a-a-a-a-ad jokes?

How does your character like to celebrate his or her birthday?

Like it was any other day. It's a treat to be busy and have consistency in my day to day life. I'm fine if no one knows or cares.

What does your character look like?

Like a pasty hobbit?

Is your character Athletic or Overweight? Tall or Short?

I'm 5'9 so reaching for things is a struggle but they made sure I could lift three times my weight if push came to shove during paramedic training so I guess I have that going for me.

Hair color and length?

I used to have blonde hair when I was a kid but it got darker real quick. It's pretty brown now and I like keeping it short-ish. Just as long as it's out of my way, I'm good.

Eye color?

Bl...ue? I think that's what my license says.

Any scars or birth marks?

A couple of scars here and there just from getting scraped up on the job. Nothing serious.

Does your character have a physical disability?

No, thankfully and luckily, considering how easy it is to get bent out of shape in my job.

What actress or actor would you have play the role of your character if it was a movie?

Haha, maybe if I was more photogenic, tall, and muscular, Ryan Gosling. Basically, if I wasn't a pasty hobbit then Ryan Gosling.

What style of clothes does your character wear?

I like being comfortable. But I also like looking good when I don't

have

to be comfortable. I own a lot of flannel plaid, a couple of leather-ish jackets, a ton of jeans, a lot of t-shirts and a lot of sweatpants. Not very inventive.

What clothes would he or she wear every day on a casual basis?

All the plaid in the world. And then some.

For a night out on the town?

I own slacks. Somewhere. And some button-downs that aren't plaid. And cologne.

To bed?

Shorts or just my boxers.

Does he or she wear any special jewelry or accessories?

Can't really wear jewelry to work at the risk of it ending up on the ambulance floor and at that point it's gone forever.

What type of shoes does your character wear?

Sneakers for days. All the Dr. Scholl's you can handle is under my feet, day in, day out.

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Where does your character live?

Girard Estates, South Philly.

Is it an Apartment? House? In the backseat of his car?

It's the second floor of a house so it's pretty comfortable.

How does your character feel about the current living arrangements?

Pretty comfortable lol I've been there for a while, I like it, it's home.

Does your character live with anyone else? Who are those people?

Not anymore.

How does your character get along with his or her neighbors?

My downstairs neighbors are pretty cool. Their dog shows up on my doorstep sometimes so that's cute, I guess? Who has a dog door on their front door and not the door leading into the backyard? Anyway, they're a couple, they're cool.

What is the view outside of your character's window?

Trees, hedges, sidewalk, some cars. Most people park in their garages or driveways though.

What items do they keep next to their bed?

My phone, my Fitbit, a lamp. A chapstick when it decides not to roll off on its own accord.

What is your character's most valuable possession?

I value all of my material things with the same amount of indifference lol I don't have anything crazy valuable. I guess I'd be mad if someone stole my TV or laptop or headphones but that's just cause they were expensive, not cause they're sentimental valuable. Unless you meant monetarily valuable cause then definitely my TV. The thing cost an arm and a leg.

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What does the character do for a living?

I'm a paramedic.

Do they find this work enjoyable?

Yeah, it's rewarding even though it's like 80% organized chaos and 20% escorting highly inebriated people to the drunk tank to sleep it off.

What is your character's dream job?

I guess I'd like to properly go to medical school someday, get my degree and all...but I also feel like I procrastinated it for too long. I'm 25, by the time I go to school and get into the practice I'll be ancient...I dunno. Maybe one day. I love it where I am though and I don't know if I'd miss the energy if being a paramedic if I was confined to a building all day.

What is your character's financial situation?

I'm doing good, I'm comfortable. I can get nice things that I want without having to think too hard about it so it's a luxury I feel like I'm lucky to have.

What does your character spend most of his/her money on?

I spend a lot of money on food. It's dumb, I like to treat myself to nice meals. That and recreation, I like new experiences a lot so I don't mind paying for like scuba diving lessons and stuff.

What would your character do if he or she won the lottery?

I'd probably help some people out, like pay some medical school bills for some friends. I know some really good people who help others out a lot that are drowning in crippling debt cause they made the decision to help others out and that's not fair. And then I'd probably get myself a really good steak.

W

hat is your character's highest level of education?

I have a bachelor's in health science.

What things do they wish were different about their current profession?

I wish there was a little better support from administration sometimes. I wish equipment wasn't updated once in a century. My hospital isn't one wealthy or high enough on the radar to get trial equipment so we have to wait the years it takes for licenses, patents, and mass production to roll out things to us that could save lives today. It's frustrating to know there's knowledge and equipment out there that's reserved for the richest, the best in politics, and so forth.

...Is it too late to say don't get me started?

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Who are his or her parents?

My dad is Caden and my mom is Angie. Hennessy.

Does he or she have any siblings?

Nope, they decided I was trouble enough. Kidding, I think they tried but it just didn't pan out before or after me.

A spouse or other romantic partner or love interest?

Not at the moment.

How about children?

The only person I figured I'd have children with left me so...no.

Other family? Aunts? Uncles? Second Cousins Twice Removed?

I have like 15 cousins. My parents both have a lot of siblings and a lot of them have kids who also have kids. Family reunions are kind of nutso.

How does your character feel about family functions and events?

Speaking of... lol They're okay, really. It's a lot of people but we usually rent out big parks or places where we can all exist without getting on too many nerves and there are ample hiding spots. The kids are cute and there's always good food and my parents always spoil me a bit hoping I don't get annoyed and stop showing up one year so that's nice too.

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Who are your character's closest friends?

Mostly people I work with. I spend a lot of time with my squad so they really know me better than anyone else.

How did your character meet his or her best friend?

Work. I guess if I really had to pick someone I'm closest to on the squad it would be Jackson. I've known him since my first day on the squad, we started together.

What do they value most in friendship?

Fun, good naturedness. I like being able to relax, it's really important that I can just be myself around the people I hang out with.

Does your character make friends easily?

I guess. I don't get on people's shit list easily, I don't think.

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What was your character's first romantic encounter like?

Um embarrassing and in college? Also not totally sober? I went away for college so being away from home for the first time was an experience lol

How does your character display affection?

Uh...I like being close I guess? Like in proximity, I just like having people close and comfortable with me. I like holding hands and stuff. I dunno, just your generic stuff.

What is your character's idea of a perfect romantic date?

Something that makes us both really happy. Something meaningful. I like having a purpose when I go places, discovering things is so much more worthwhile with another person.

Has your character ever had his or her heart broken?

I mean, yeah.

What qualities does your character look for in a romantic partner?

The same stuff I look for in a good friend, I guess. I just want someone I can really be myself around. Someone that can make me smile and someone that I can make smile.

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Does your character have any pets? What type?

Nope, I'm really not home enough to have a pet.

What are your characters favorite animals?

I like cats and dogs. I think it'd be kind of neat to have a ferret or a bearded dragon but I think I'd feel bad about keeping a bearded dragon in literally a tank all day.

How many times has your character visited the zoo?

I used to go a lot as a kid. My parents would bring me or I'd go with my cousins. Once for school, that was cool. I bought my parents a stuffed monkey from that trip and they still have it so I guess that's kind of important to me or whatever :')

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What are his or her favorite foods to eat?

I like a lot of things, food is literally my favorite. I like ramen and lamb and a lot of roasted greens. This is a hard question, I like a lot of things a lot.

Does he or she enjoy to cook?

Yeah. I get really ambitious and it isn't always excellent but I like to try.

Any food allergies or sensitivities?

No, thankfully.

What foods can he or she not stand to be around or eat?

My dad's family has a pallet for some things I don't love. Irish baked goods are just not that great and I don't get the hype about black and white pudding I'm soRRY I SAID IT YOU CAN KICK ME OUT NOW.

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How does your character spend a lazy Sunday afternoon?

Lazily lol I don't get up too late cause I know it'll throw off my routine but I like to make myself breakfast at my own pace and watch whatever I've been meaning to catch up on for days. Maybe make a trip to the grocery store and peruse the aisles at my own leisure. Come home and play some video games? If I'm gonna have a lazy day I'm gonna commit to total leisure.

What are their favorite places to go when alone?

With friends?

I like going to the park alone. Walks are nicer with a podcast to think about. I can be a part of society without actually bothering myself, it's basically perfect. If I'm with friends I like to get a drink or go play board games at someone's house, that's pretty neat.

Where would your character like to travel?

Anywhere! It would be great to take a break and just have the incentive to go somewhere and enjoy something new.

How does he or she want to get there?

Driving, flying? By boat. I don't care. I haven't found a mode of transport I've hated yet.

Does your character have preferences on types of lodging?

Not gonna lie, I'm not a roughing it kind of guy, I don't love fending for myself. I like somewhere with running water and internet at least. And no bugs. Don't like bugs.

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What are your characters favorite movies and TV shows?

I guess I like hour-long shows that I can really get invested in. Like Peaky Blinders and X-Files and stuff. I like getting immersed in the stuff I watch, which is a lot more TV than movies.

What are their favorite actors and actresses?

I like a lot of people. Peter Dinklage, Gillian Anderson, Sam Neill. A lot of people have a lot of talent. I have a fucking huge crush on Emma Thompson. That's embarrassing but she's literally so fun.

How often do they watch movies and/or television?

I usually watch TV to turn my brain off after a long day so often. Almost every evening? I usually watch something over dinner.

What genre of music would you find your character most likely listening to?

My iTunes is mostly rock, I guess.

When do they listen to music? In the car? While working?

When I'm working out. Or we play music in the ambulance sometimes when it's empty.

What artists and bands does your character enjoy listening to?

I like the Arctic Monkeys and The National and stuff like that. Stuff that I can really appreciate on noise-canceling headphones. If it can get me in my feelings I'm there.

W

ould your character go to a concert and enjoy it?

Yeah! I used to go to concerts a lot more often before but I do enjoy the experience if it's for the right band the right atmosphere.

Does your character play any musical instruments?

No. I used to play guitar when I was a kid but I lost interest ages ago.

What are his or her favorite books?

I don't read as much as I should...but I do like reading books of movies and TV shows after I watch them. When I can't get enough of the world it built it's nice to fill in the holes with the book.

What books are on his or her bookshelf at home?

A lot of my college reading material to make myself look smart to my dust bunny house guests. Plus all those movie and TV show books.

What titles does he or she borrow from the library?

I don't really go to the library. If I'm not sure enough about a book to order it online I usually don't get it at all.

What genre of books does your character enjoy reading?

Romance Fiction? Non-fiction? Thriller Crime Novels? Historical Fiction? Self-help? Poetry?

Historical fiction, post-apocalyptic, sci-fi, basically any kind of fiction really. I'm here for a good, gripping story.

What is your character's favorite quote and why?

“If not us, who? If not now, when?” ― John F. Kennedy

[books-and-cookies]

Things I have learned from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (part 1/?)

1. Yes I am doing this because we all need some happiness in our lives with all the crap that is the world right now. Also, I need to cleanse myself and my soul after the utter crapfest that was the fifty shades series. 2. I can hear my childhood calling to me, to save me from the pit of despair that is adulthood. 3. Kids, whoever told you it’ll be fun to be grown up has been lying through their teeth to you, because the only fun part is alcohol. 4. And being able to binge eat candy and chocolate, with no one berating you when you’ve made yourself sick because of all the candy and chocolate. I mean, a balanced diet? What is that.

5. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” – name a more iconic first line. I won’t even wait, because THERE ISN’T ONE. 6. Don’t even @ me. 7. “Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back.” – that’s Minerva judging you. Blesssssss. This is what salvation looks like 8. Okay but when are cloaks coming back in fashion. I mean, I *know* I can rock a bubble pink one and it’s honestly the best way to say “fuck everything I’m off to slay some monsters” and be fashionable while doing it. 9. Bring back cloaks 2k17 10. “And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off” – lowkey want someone to give me a hug right now and tell me to rejoice  11. I told you, it’s the crippling weight of adulthood.

12. “The cat didn’t move. It just gave him a stern look” – Minerva be like

13. “hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise” – Potterworld version of group chat 14. Imagine receiving an owl just to find out someone tagged you in a stupid doge meme

15. “He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots” – my aesthetic™ tbh 16. “a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop” – fucking JK, planting plot stuff for book seven in book fucking one this is what I should aim for in life – bewilder and throw people curve balls years in advance and then laugh menacingly while sipping my tea

17. “You’d think they’d be a bit more careful, but no — even the Muggles have noticed something’s going on” – wizards don’t give a shit lol, this is the definition of YOLO 18. “Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer” – Dumbledore is me avoiding my responsibilities and pretending candy will save the day 19. “[…] how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?       “We can only guess,” said Dumbledore. “We may never know.” – Dumbledore, you sly fox. 

20. “screaming for sweets” – I am Dudley 24/7 21. “Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter?” – McGonagall, the voice of reason for an entire generation. Honestly, for a hella smart, competent dude, Dumbledore can be dense. It’s like: “hey I know you hate your sister and her husband but shit hit the fan over here, so anyway here’s their kid can u explain all this to him kthx bye” 22. “there will be books written about Harry — every child in our world will know his name!” – I’m so happy this turned out to be true blessssss

23. “Can’t you see how much better off he’ll be, growing up away from all that until he’s ready to take it?” – like, I see the point, but why couldn’t he have been raised in a wizard family that wouldn’t overwhelm him? I know it’s because of the protection spell, but STILL. He could have just come live with the Dursleys for like 2 weeks every summer. Yearly tradition for the worst vacation ever™. But like, it beats death, no matter how awful it is. 24. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN A BETTER TRADE OFF, DUMBLEDORE, DON’T ROLL YOUR EYES AT ME 25. “I would trust Hagrid with my life,” – SAME, FAM, SAME 26. “Young Sirius Black” – sobs forever (boy, book 5 will fuck me up)

27. “To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!” – this takes me back to when I read the series for the first time. This was the moment I knew I was in for life. 28. Yes I am aware this is just the first chapter shut up 29. I’m fucked if I’m really doing the entire series 30. BUT I DON’T CARE BECAUSE THIS IS WHOLESOME AND PURE. PURER THAN CINNAMON ROLLS. YES, I WENT THERE FIGHT ME.

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