#woof there goes my lunch break

[imagineitdearies-old]

Why the fuck did you like those posts? You're a shitty fucking person if you think that omega or fem Luke is homophobic and then write omega Aemond like it's not feminization in the same way. People defended your fic from the discourse and those same authors that are being critiqued in those posts read and supported your work but I guess its a one way street for you. I'm glad they took screenshots of your shit and posted it on twitter

Oooo the girlies are talking about me! Twitter really sounds wild.

I personally don’t think authors who write fem!Luke are inherently harmful or homophobic. I enjoy many of those fanfics, and might write one, who knows! And I don't know that any of the OPs were calling out specific authors, but if they do in other posts that'd definitely not be cool. Writing fanfic is hard and I'm not here to hate on any author for doing something they enjoy and others love. General critique in a fandom does interest me once I get in deep with it, like I have with lucemond, but in the end it’s all fiction!

If anyone's wanting further explanation and an opinion from me on this matter of fem!Luke, buckle in! Lol.

Everyone is allowed to have their own opinion, but I casually read a lot of lucemond so at this point I have a lot of casual OpinionsTM on the pairing lol. Most of which I keep to myself, because we're all just here trying to find things we like, not get nasty about the things we don't.

But yeah, ngl my favorite omega/bottom/fem!Luke fics involve him having some personality beyond being submissive and salivating for Aemond-dick. I'll rec a few: omega!Luke a/b/o paint me in your colours is a great one, modern!au a losing game is getting SO good, and just started a very fem cam!boy Luke fic you can be the boss that's been fun so far!

Also, I admit it, I appreciate when I find fics where he isn’t constantly referred to like he’s a girl in all but pronouns.

There’s nothing wrong with trans characters of course, that can be a great thing to explore—but I think it’s concerning when I open up this tag on ao3 and the “Luke has a pussy” fics are dominating over anything else that's posted, don’t even tag him as trans, and almost always involve him acting very submissive and still looking like a prepubescent boy. And yes, fem!trans men exist, can be subs, and can look young!! Fuck gender roles! But hey, trans men can also look masculine, be doms, and look like adults too, and I have seen zero representation of any of that with Luke. Please somebody point me towards any that I've missed, would love to read!

(Maybe I’ll have to write a one-shot of Luke being trans!masc 🤔 seeing the lack of diversity in the a/b/o tag is what prompted D&S after all 😂)

So after enough of these flooding the ao3 tag, it starts to feel less like trans!rep and more like a trend we could analyze as a fandom whole. After all, if we’re just really cool and shooting for more gender diversity, it should make no less sense to make Aemond trans, you get me? Why are we so hung up on Luke as someone with a vagina?

Again, I don't as a blanket statement agree with the OPs of those posts in saying it's always sexist/homophobic to write Luke this way, or that there's inherent harm, but I did appreciate the discourse especially in the first post that addresses the trend as something to watch out for and think more critically about to avoid perpetuating stereotypes. Nothing wrong with portraying top/bottom and dom/sub couples, but it’s just as common with irl homosexual relationships for that dynamic to switch or even the one who through a 'hereto lens' seems more fem to be the top/dom. When a fandom as a whole is constantly putting a queer ship in gendered boxes (and the feminized one always seems to be very younger/an actual child, like Luke in canon), and also hates on any opposing portrayal, it’s just cause for reflection, ya know?

This ship is already problematic with one being underage and then also being portrayed by an underage actor—honestly when some of the more-nsfw art looks too much like a 12 year old next to an adult Aemond I really squick out—so I’m personally more cautious of how I portray his character just for that reason alone and appreciate when others are too.

Of course, I always stick with the “Don’t like don’t read” mantra of the olden days. Any harm in stereotyping/assigning heterosexual roles to lucemond is SO much less important than real-life stereotyping it's silly, and I’m personally never going to go hate on a story I don’t enjoy, just move on to something I do.

I'm also not going to pretend that I don't enjoy something! I literally just commented on a dead dove fic (derailed by theglitteringdark, the surprise CNC and babytrapping at the end really did it for me haha) with Luke as a trans!femboy because I enjoyed it. If you're looking through my likes, check ao3 too, okay? 😂

Last thing, but I have to add—writing someone unlikely as an omega is fun for me simply because I can then deconstruct the idea of it and, sort of like gender in real life, show that we are more than what is and isn’t between our legs. Idk if you’ve read D&S, but Aemond isn’t exactly a very feminine person in it. And this call-out is such funny timing, I have to spoil—in the very next chapter I'm working on, Aemond (an omega! gasp!) tops Luke! I've alluded to it in many previous chapters so some of you probably aren't surprised, lol.

Alright alright please cherry pick and tell me how I'm awful and wrong now 😂 I don't mind, like I said this is my opinion and it's all just fiction in the end.

[hansolmates]

a hero’s journey (m)

summary; jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story pairing; jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; best friend’s boyfriend au, slice of life, angst with a happy ending because im weak, pining pINING, everyone’s kind of a mess in their own sweet special way, alcohol use, mentions of ze weed, toxic relationships, mean friends, sex—slight dom!kook, food play, fingering, squirting, heavy use of the petname “pretty girl” bc im weak, strength kink, manhandling (oop!) w.c; 22.2k a/n; woof! my first fic for @goldenclosetnetwork​ 23 | jungkook’s birthday project! this goes out to all the closet romantics *ahem me cough* who doesn’t love pining between a cutie koo? a huge thank u for vivi @eerieedits​ for making this bbbBEAUTIFUL fic banner!  

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

if you like this fic pls consider giving a like n’share🥺💜🥺💜

It’s so easy to ignore the world. 

Maybe it’s a young-adult thing, but it gets difficult fitting into the 9-to-5 and playing to satisfy bosses that don’t entirely understand your work ethic. Maybe it’s out of complacency, or fear. But you prefer to let the world flow around you and when you’re needed, you’ll act. You’ve reached that point in your life where you enjoy the little things, satisfied by an extra hour of overtime tacked onto your paycheck, a new fabric softener, or finding the perfectly squishy yoga mat. 

You’ve finally started feeling comfortable in your shoes, uncaring as to whether you’re single or drowning in college debt, happy to live a relatively stable life. You’re grateful. There’s nothing more than you need than your happiness, and the love of your friends and family. 

Namely, your best friend from college. Jisoo always joked about how you two “won the lottery” as dorm rooms in freshman year were determined by lottery. Pulling numbers 883 and 884, you and Jisoo snagged a corner spot of the dormitory, leaving you two utterly cramped but utterly close as the years went by. Six years later and it’s still the case, the two of you have grown into talented working ladies. While you may not be able to spend time with each other the same way you did in school, you still care for each other. 

So when Jisoo shows up teary with a rumpled dress shirt and her hair waterfalling out of this morning’s bun, you break out the good alcohol and season three of Jane the Virgin for her. 

After the liquid is warm in your cheeks and you’ve fawned enough over Micheal and Rafael’s love triangle, you let Jisoo ramble. 

Jisoo has downed a whole bottle of soju on her own, while you’ve decided to have a tasteful glass of wine. You’d rather be tired wine drunk than wasted on soju. 

“Jungkook and I had a fight,” she warbles, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth, “it was totally stupid.” 

Your eyes flash, picturing Jisoo and Jungkook in quarrel. They’re the epitome of an Instagram-worthy couple, beautiful and deathly charming to a fault. They show nothing but kindness and sweetness to you whenever you third-wheel, not a lick of anger between them when you’re all together.

So a fight is something surprising. Jisoo and Jungkook, J-squared are a power couple. Saying their names next to each other just emits a sort of energy you can only akin to famous small screen couples like Troy and Gabriella or Cory and Topanga. Jisoo’s Instagram is belly full with sweet selfies of them together, the doe-eyed man always looking completely sweet and gentle to the woman in his arms.

You never piqued Jungkook as the type of guy who would pick a “stupid fight.” And you know Jungkook pretty well. 

Maybe a little too well. 

“He surprised me during my lunch break and he caught me talking to Doyoung and he thought I was flirting,” Jisoo is practically eating her sweater, her head falling between her flannel pyjama sleeves. 

“Doyoung, as in your ex Doyoung?” you raise a brow. 

She groans, glaring at you in earnest. “Not you, too! I told him it was ridiculous to get jealous, and then I told him how jealous I get when he’s around girls and I don’t need to tell him that,” she rolls her eyes, twisting her feet petulantly in her fuzzy socks, “but then you know what he says back?” 

You wince, swirling your wine glass, “That you’re crazy?” 

“That I’m crazy, exactly! How did you—” her bloodshot eyes zero in on you, where you’ve tucked yourself in the corner of the couch. You swirl the ruby liquid in your cup, watching the feet web around the cheap crystal, “you think I’m crazy too, don’t you?” 

You swallow your sigh, taking your time to finish your liquid in languid sips. Uneasy, you wish you could just sink through the couch in order to avoid this conversation. Jisoo’s heart is generally in the right direction, but in terms of emotions she has the kind of sensitivity that you prefer to ignore rather than tread. Jungkook is also equally emotional, but in a different way. He wears his heart on his sleeve, preferring to keep things straight as opposed to bottling it up like Jisoo. 

However the theoretic bottle has reached it’s brim and Jisoo’s tipping, fast. 

“I need to tell you something,” Jisoo is swerving, crawling like an infant on wobbly limbs to reach your corner of the couch. You almost stop her, tell her you can continue this conversation in the morning, it’s what you normally do when she drinks into a stupor. But tears are swimming in her glassy caramel eyes and she’s grappling onto your blanket, resting her head in her lap. 

Her glossy russet strands curtain her head, so you don’t see the expression on her face when she says her next words: 

“Jungkook told me he liked you senior year, and I told him you weren’t interested so I’d have a chance.” 

Wow. So that explains everything.

The memories that you’ve tried so hard to brush away, the feelings you’ve tried so hard and continue to try to suppress, are laid out in front of you on a rusted platter. You could laugh, you could fling the rest of the Pinot Grigio down your throat like fresh water on a hot day and call it a night. 

But instead you choke back your tears, and push her off because you’re hurt.  

Deep down you know you would’ve been less upset if she told you the week after Jisoo and Jungkook called it official. If you knew from the beginning, it would’ve been easier on your heart. But it's been over two years since the past, thinking you’ve been needlessly, stupidly, delusional in thinking that you could’ve possibly had a chance with Jungkook.

Because it could’ve been you. And the reason why Jisoo and Jungkook fought today? Now you know it’s because deep down, they know they’re each other’s second choice. 

You can’t even recall a time where Jungkook and Jisoo were together alone before they suddenly started dating, remembering how it used to be you and Jungkook before Jisoo found him one day in your shared apartment, utterly smitten. And now you know you weren’t delusional, because the feelings and the signals you two were exchanging in senior year was real. 

But it doesn’t stop the fact that over two years have passed. Two years of a serious relationship between Jisoo and Jungkook, and two years of you secretly loving him from an arm’s length. 

“You hate me,” Jisoo removes herself from you, voice trembling. The quick, dark part of your mind wants you to snap back of course I hate you. You’ve trusted Jisoo with your life all these years, she was the reason you got through college so gracefully, why you enjoyed the past seven years of your life. 

But the sentiment is stained, and all you can do is deliver a tired smile and stand up. “I don’t hate you,” you say, “I’m just, really overwhelmed. I can’t lie and say that I’m not hurt,” your fingers clutch the fake crystal in your grasp, and for once you’re thankful you’re not strong enough to break it, “but you two love each other now and there’s no point in dwelling in the ‘what-ifs’.” 

Now that you think about it, when was the last time Jisoo treated you like a best friend? You stare at your wine glass, thinking that the only time comfort is provided in this apartment is when Jisoo is upset, never when you’re upset. 

Jisoo bobs her head senselessly, agreeing to every word. It’s pathetic, seeing her on her knees and her eyes glimmering with the hope that you’d forgive her straightaway. She must feel awful. That’s good.  

You sigh, needing to be the bigger person. “You need to call Jungkook and tell him he has nothing to worry about though, after all, you two have history now. As much, if not more than Doyoung.” 

“Right,” she replies, biting her lip. It suddenly feels like you're talking to a wall, carrying a conversation that's long ended.

“As for us,” you have half a mind to slam your glass on the counter, but instead you give it a heavy hand, letting slowly thump to the coffee table, “I don’t think I want to see you two, for a while.” 

“Understandable.” 

“And I don’t want to help you move out anymore,” I just want you gone.  

“Right,” she whispers. The both of you will be completed with your lease in two months, and Jisoo and Jungkook have decided to move into Jungkook’s apartment. As for you, you haven’t decided as to whether you want to go through the whole process of moving out or looking for a new roommate. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so fucking sorry. I just was insecure as fuck in college and Jungkook was the first person I met in a long time that helped me feel more… like me.”

You want to say that she's right, she’s selfish. Her excuses aren’t palpable anymore. It’s too late. But if you were in Jisoo’s shoes, you’d think this apology is mere crumbs in comparison to your friendship. Why isn't she trying harder? Maybe because she doesn't know any better. After all, you never told her what you felt for him has morphed into love. 

You don’t even have to ask as to whether she’ll tell Jungkook this or not, you now know honesty is not her style. 

Jisoo doesn’t get a goodnight and a drunken kiss on the forehead like she usually does whenever you two have your late night talks. Instead, she seals herself to her own demise as you slam the door to your bedroom, effectively shutting each other out. 

Work is a bitch the following morning. You’re like molasses, rolling out of bed despite the whole world and its mother telling you to go back to sleep. 

Your feet are killing you as you make your walk to work, deciding to wear a pair of red-backed heels so you can stomp your way through your day. 

Your Wusband (Work-Husband) Kim Namjoon matches you step-for-step, eyes glued to his phone as he catches you on the sidewalk. “Woman on a mission,” he comments absentmindedly, eyes glued to his phone as he follows the click of your shoes to your favorite cafe. 

You spare a glance to your right hand-man, eyeing him appreciatively at his dedication to your morning routine. He’s your favorite co-worker, one who keeps you on time to your meetings and keeps you sane when you want to pull your hair out and dig out a coffin in your little cubicle. Namjoon’s long legs always seem to catch up with you during your workweek, whether it’s to get coffee in the morning or to talk shit about the latest gossip in the breakroom. 

The bell of the glass door tinkles in your ears as you enter the café, relatively busy for the morning rush. While you wait in line, Namjoon ticks off your activity list for today. 

“Meeting with Victoria is cancelled this morning,” you groan in relief, your supervisor Victoria always scares the shit out of you even when she’s not doing anything, “and just the usual proofing and whatever we have to do on the third floor today—can I get a large iced Americano with a pump of caramel? Thanks,” Namjoon moves aside so you can throw your order in as well, “and after work could you stop by Vernon’s? He took a sick day today and he has most of the manuscripts for the next issue.” 

“Done and done,” you swipe your card in the dip, tucking your card away in your zippered pouch. “So like, do Americanos taste any good? Like it’s literally watered down espresso how do you pay to drink watered down tar—” 

Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter. Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter swirling stray sugar crystals with his thumb and putting them in his napkin. What an impeccable display of Virgo energy, absentmindedly cleaning things he has no business doing. You scoff to yourself, recalling this morning that Jisoo got off the phone this morning with a stupid smile on her face. From the mirror image that Jungkook is excluding while he’s smiling on his cellphone like a smitten teenager, it seems like they’ve made up. 

Nevertheless the hurt from last night is still fresh in your bones, and you force yourself to look away despite the fact that your morning pick-me-ups are almost done and are sitting tauntingly next to Jungkook’s elbow. Does he really need to learn against the counter like he owns it? Hair slightly damp from the shower, your heart beats a little faster at the fresh image.His biceps are straining against his charcoal lycra long sleeve, which is slightly damp from his morning run. Snap out of it! You are a mature, working woman who does not swoon in the view of bulgy muscles, especially when the man who owns those muscles is taken. Suddenly there’s a call of your name, and two cups and a paper bag are put in front of Jungkook. 

He blinks, and you immediately pale when you see his eyes flit over your name surrounded by your favorite coral pink beverage. You feel struck as his head perks up at the name and he narrowly makes eye-contact—

“The fuck you’re doing,” Namjoon gripes, shoving your guava iced tea and croissant in your chest, “standing there like a moron as if we don’t got shit to do today.” 

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling at the brown paper bag to tug a piece of croissant between your teeth. The warmth, buttery pastry melts in your tastebuds. Ah, bread. Nothing like a little bit of carb to make you feel better. 

You’re suddenly thankful for Namjoon’s gargantuan torso from effectively blocking you from Jungkook, hauling you out of the coffee shop like a petulant toddler. He doesn’t even give you a chance to catch another secret look at the object of your affections, making sure you’re back in your work game before you enter the building. Even if he doesn’t know it, Kim Namjoon’s always got your back. 

Or in today’s case, breathing down your back. 

Without your third editor and a hard deadline coming up by the end of the week, you and Namjoon are working in tandem throughout your 9-5 to complete drafts for Big Hit Publishings Arts & Media section. Both of you take turns to bring snacks and feed each other, feeling like reading zombies and slaves to your desk as you remind each other to breathe throughout the whole ordeal. 

In complete honesty you don’t totally mind. Namjoon is a great partner-in-crime, and you both love what you do and do a damn good job at it. You call it “Buzzfeed but with Benefits.” 

And at least for today, you could quell the feelings in your chest from last night and this morning. Sure, you’ve always been okay with the pining you’ve had for Jungkook. The feeling comes and goes whenever it pleases, and since yesterday you’ve been okay with just admiring from afar and being their third wheel. 

However, now the feelings are acutely comparable to a third-degree burn with the help of Jisoo playing with fire. 

With a quiet exhale, you concede in your gaming chair (because it’s just so damn comfy to keep in the office.) You’re an adult and not a petty child, and you will not let this piece of information derail you from your calm, stable lifestyle. 

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo. 

“Let’s go, buckaroo,” Namjoon logs off for you, the cinnamon-y smell of his shampoo effectively waking up your senses, “it’s already 5:30. And you said you’d stop by Vern’s to get his drafts.” 

“Right,” you blurt, mindlessly putting away your papers and snack wrappers in your bag. You can’t believe the whole day’s gone already. 

“Maybe you don’t even have to go to his apartment. Just text him or whatever.” 

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.” 

“And y/n?” Namjoon gives you a look that causes you to force a terse smile, one you give one too many times to higher-ups at work. It isn’t to insult Namjoon by any means, but you guys are partners, the kind that tell way too much but hide just enough to remain close from afar. “Take it easy, will you?” 

“I will,” you concede, stretching your arms, “I’m def overdue for a massage.” 

“You don’t look sick,” you scoff, taking in the casual look your co-editor boasts as he leans casually against the doorway. 

Hansol Vernon Chwe is the epitome of fluffy, decked out in large electric blue sweats and his russet brown hair curling softly above his porcelain skin. Not only is he your co-editor, but also a friend from college. Not to the extent that you were with Jisoo and Jungkook, but you operated in the same publishing club and managed to get partnering internships that made you the co-workers you are today. You see a little bit of that collegiate youth in Vernon right now, as he looks well-rested and fresh faced despite the fact he probably didn’t apply moisturizer or drink enough water today.

“But you kinda do,” he tilts his head, noting the heels that adorn your feet, “you’re wearing your sexy shoes today, that means something’s going on.” 

“Gee, ever the ladies’ man,” you scoff, getting under his arm to invite yourself inside, “all I want is the completed interviews so we can pick out the best parts and draft them. Then I’ll be on my merry way.” 

“Oh c’mon, we’ve been talking nothing but work this whole damn month. What happened to college when we’d talk hours about House Hunters, the safeness of library sex, that little furry thing in Lincoln Hall’s urinal? That was prime conversation.” 

“Vern, I’m just here for the drafts,” you sit at his tiny kitchen table, glaring at his open laptop.  

“You could’ve just emailed me,” he teases, twisting around his chair so he can rest his arms against the back. “But since you’re here, that means you probably wanna spill some tea but you’re too upset to admit it.” 

“If I talk will you stop talking like that?” 

“Yes. Give me the juicy details. Need some juicy juice.” 

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.” 

“Uh, this is my apartment.” 

“My point still stands,” you make another face at his outfit, “you look like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”  

Vernon purses his lips, scooting his chair closer to yours. He’s unfazed by your insult, far used to your defenses being higher up than Fort Knox. He looks up at you with his pretty lashes and deceivingly sweet caramel eyes, leaning his head along the backrest. “C’mon, tell me what’s bothering you,” he says in a gentle tone, coaxing you open. 

He always knew how to do it for you, a little bit of sweet talking and that clear open gaze always reduced you to shreds in university. For him, it always took a good meal and some sci-fi movies to get him to talk. That must be why you’ve stayed friends for so long, you two knew how to connect. 

Finally you crack, kicking off your shoes and hoping the sharp end doesn’t land on his cat. You hear Luna meow in protest but she’s got great reflexes. Unbuttoning the first three buttons of your stuffy blazer, you air out your cleavage, not caring about Vernon’s gaze. He’s seen worse. 

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

“Ah, yeah. The guy who like, lived at the gym and the dining hall? Haven’t seen him in a minute,” his eyes seem to glaze over the glory days, reminiscing in the simultaneous safetynet and stressor that made up your early twenties, “didn’t you guys hit it off real well? Like I remember you ditched like—three sci-fi nights to study with him. Who even studies at 1AM?” 

“Yeah, we did,” and you can’t help but frown at as you remember the 7-Eleven runs, the utter warmth you felt when he would wipe a stray rice grain off your cheek, and how happy you felt to laugh so much with him it hurt, “but uh. Jisoo got drunk last night, because they had a fight. And she sort of admitted to me that she sabotaged our relationship and told Jungkook I wasn’t interested in him so they could start dating. Two years later and here we are.” 

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?” 

Vernon doesn’t even wait for a response when he gets up, bare feet slapping against the tile as he prepares some drinks and snacks for you. 

“That’s pretty fucked up,” he practically sing-songs among the cacophony of popcorn pop-pop-popping in the microwave. The aroma of buttery kernels is all but a relief, reminding you of movie matinees, “and like, she knew you liked him! It was totally obvious, even if you didn’t spell it out for her.” 

“Yeah,” you practically gushed to Jisoo those past two months, every waking moment with heart-eyes over the talented graphic designer Jeon Jungkook. 

“I can’t believe Jisoo would keep that a secret from you for so long. Like, can you even trust her anymore?” 

“Don’t know, was she even my bestfriend or was I just a good roommate to her?” you ask. Vernon is holding two beers in one hand and a bag of popcorn by the tips of his fingers in the other, careful to not burn himself. Opening the beer for you, you thank him and take a long swig.

“Well, good thing you’re still not in love with him or whatever. That would really suck. Unless—”

The look on your face says it all. You’re practically snotting into your bottle, your face tucked into your chin as you fight hard to stop the tears you’ve been suppressing for the last two years. “Don’t give me your pity,” you garble, turning away from the sad look Vernon gives you as he wraps his arms around you. 

The tears are soft and gentle, flowing freely onto the cotton of Vernon’s arms as you let it out. 

“‘M’not,” he concedes, rubbing his chin into your neck. He really is a lot like Luna, just like his  cat ready to give you affection. “Let’s just, get some take-out and watch Hamilton or something.” 

He lets you wear his matching sweat suit, lime green, as you order Thai food and rap along to Hamilton’s sick beats. Vernon does a better job keeping the flow, but you’re having a good time being his hype man as he parades around the living room like it’s 1776. 

You go home that night around ten o’clock, feeling noticeably lighter and more relaxed. Be that it may you are still wearing the sweatpants and heels ensemble, you feel comforted. 

The apartment is quiet when you walk in, not a single light turned on. You get a slice of the city lights bleeding in from the organza curtains, which allow you to kick off your heels and hobble to where you think the kitchen counter is. 

Today is Jisoo’s day to cook dinner. You can tell she decided to cook today from the faint smell of Japanese curry and a small unwashed plate in the sink. Whenever it was someone’s turn, they usually left an extra bowl or serving in it for the other roommate when they got home. Unsurprisingly, you find no such thing on the counter or in the fridge. 

You’re not upset, but rather decided. If Jisoo is going to let your friendship fade off with no intention of redeeming herself, then you should give her the same amount of energy back. You realize now the apology she gave last night wasn’t for you, but empty words to make her feel better and mend whatever toxicity she’s created in her own relationships. People like Namjoon and Vernon reminded you that you didn’t need to try and earn other people’s friendships. 

It’s disappointing, but the feeling is all but too familiar. 

If you could describe Jisoo as anything, it would be the color pink. Blushing, beautiful, beguiling pink. The way she flushes when Jungkook does an uncalled for grandiose gesture of romance, or when she wears a hot magenta number when she’s hosting a fashion show. Jisoo is the personification of La vie en rose, unbothered and unabashed.  

But now all you see when you think of Jisoo? Nothing but red. 

With that, you go in your room and untack the polaroid of you and Jisoo at the carnival last month, putting it away in your junk drawer to be forgotten. 

“You’re running away.” 

“Am not.” 

“Are too,” that interjection comes from Vernon’s roommate, Jung Hoseok. He’s been watching you two bicker over work for the past hour while he plays GTA5, failing to get a good hard carry because you and Vernon are too busy discussing whatever finishing touches you need on your final draft. 

“No one asked for your opinion, Jung,” you throw over your shoulder. 

“I’m just saying,” Hoseok flicks his wrist and nabs a tank, “you never wanna go home, you eat all our food, and I found your pyjamas in my laundry basket.” 

“You said your basket was the blue one,” you hiss under your breath. 

“The navy blue one,” Vernon chirps unhelpfully, “not the electric blue one.” 

Hoseok hits “save” on his campaign, disconnecting from his PS4 and stretching his lean limbs. “I mean, we could use a third roommate,” Hoseok jokes, getting up from the couch and grabbing a handful of M&Ms from your bowl, “you do make a bomb mac n’cheese.” 

“Appreciated,” you relent when Hoseok presses a kiss to your cheek and tells Vernon he’ll be back late working, leaving you and Vernon alone in their shared apartment. When Hoseok is gone, you stare at the door, tilting your head, “y’know,” you remark, “Hoseok’s a cool guy, why did I never hang out with him in college?” 

“Because he was stoned the majority of senior year and you just didn’t vibe with that crowd.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“But, you’re trying to change the subject,” Vernon carefully untacks your hands from your keyboard, knowing that you two have already been done with this month's issue and you’re now just mindlessly re-reading emails. “You’ve been here since Thursday, and now it’s Saturday. And as much as Hoseok and I like having you around so you can wake me up before we go to work, it’d be nice to throw me a bone and let me in on what you’re thinking right now.” 

You frown, noting Vernon’s large hand covering your laptop closed. He isn’t going to remove his hand anytime soon unless you talk. “Jungkook’s helping Jisoo pack up her half of the apartment this weekend and I don’t want to be there,” you say, short and simple. 

“You miss her?” 

“Yeah,” you admit honestly. You hate this version of yourself, unable to even look at Jisoo nowadays despite the fact you’re under the same roof for the remainder of the month. It’s hard to believe that the roommate from six years ago finally got under your skin, cancelling out all the years of friendship because of one silly relationship, “sad she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” 

“Did you talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you reply despondently, “if she cared at all she would’ve to apologize again by now.”

Vernon figures, and his neutral expression doesn’t change as he leads you to the couch, brushing away Hoseok’s things so you two can get comfy. You busy yourself with the remote, exiting the PS4 homepage to scroll Netflix. 

“And are you trying to get over him?” 

“I mean, yeah,” you have been, but it’s a little hard when you’ve been contentedly pining. It was easy to keep your feelings bottled up because you originally thought Jisoo and Jungkook were meant to be for each other for the past two years. Now you're still pining but ruefully bitter at Jisoo.

“It’s not fair, y’know. She broke girl code, bros before hoes. Or is it chicks before dicks?” Vernon shakes his head at his lame attempt to get you to smile, which works anyway because Vernon’s silly and his sense of humor always gets you a little loose. “It’s your house too, you shouldn’t feel like you don’t belong there.” 

“Well I was supposed to help her move out this weekend, and I’d prefer it if Jungkook didn’t know what was going on.” 

“What?” your friend furrows his thick brows together, tucking his hands under his knees as he leans into your stubborn expression. “You’re gonna let Jungkook go on with his life not knowing that his relationship is based on a lie. That’s not cool. Even if you’re into him, he’s still your friend.” 

Damn, when did Vernon get so good at giving advice? Truth is Vernon’s always been good at dishing advice, you’ve just been privy to what you wanted to reveal to him. The first year or so being together outside of college was always about work, saving each other’s asses to ensure you two got that promotion and aim higher and higher. Now that goal is out of the way, and what better way to reconnect over some shoddy romance straight out of a Degrassi special? 

“I know,” you hug your knees tight to your chest, “when I’m ready, okay?” 

“Okay,” he agrees, because he’s not a pusher, “do you know the best way to get over someone?” 

“What?” 

“The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone," he emphasizes that point with his hands, sliding one under the other with a wiggle of his thick brows.

You slap him on the shoulder, “Vern, you disgust me.” 

“But it works!” 

“I’m not going on Tinder to find a fuckbuddy.” 

“You don’t have to look on Tinder or Tumble.” 

“Bumble.” 

“Whatever,” and his eyes flicker to his lap, where his pale fingertips turn red as he grips the edge of a throw pillow. "If you really don't wanna find someone, I can help." 

Is Vernon offering himself up? He is offering to fuck your brains out in the hope that you could inevitably fuck out your interest in Jungkook? Your eyes flicker over to Vernon's form on the couch, who's tucked in the couch just as you are. 

It’s true that you find Vernon attractive, and to some extent he definitely finds you attractive as well otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested the idea. It’s just that in college you never viewed him in that kind of light, probably because you were always so caught up in Jungkook. But tonight you can’t seem to ignore the eagerness hidden in Vernon’s carmine gaze, and how shiny and touchable his chocolate locks look under the setting sun. 

“I don’t want our friendship to change,” you reply slowly, furrowing your brows. “I appreciate it, but I don’t know. It sounds like a temporary fix.” 

“Can’t knock it if you don’t try it,” and out of curiosity, you don’t shy away when Vernon leans over to you, squeezing himself between the couch so he can tuck you in his arms. “I want to help you, but only if you want to.” 

Maybe it’s the frustration you feel with Jisoo, Jungkook’s ignorance, or the fact that you haven’t felt physical pleasure in such a long time, but you soften into Vernon’s hold. He’s relaxed, nothing betraying him as he waits patiently for your answer. You’ve always admired how much he kept up his “cool as a cucumber” demeanor. He isn’t the type of guy to let life pass him by, but he’s the kind of person who walks along life, embracing the ups and downs like old friends. He’s the ocean waves that crest along the shore, pushing and pulling along without a care in the world. 

He’s the textbook opposite of Jeon Jungkook, which is why you give Vernon the okay to lean in and press his lips against yours. 

His kisses are soft, and he takes great care in making sure you’re comfortable with this new step in your relationship. It almost feels as if you’re cutting corners, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty that you revel in the way Vernon’s hands trail under your too-large t-shirt. 

The pleasure you’ve ached for is there, bubbling low in the pit of your belly. It’s hard to get you out of your mind however, because this man isn’t the one you love. His kisses hold no power, only brief reprieve. Your heart doesn’t palpitate and your palms don’t sweat, you’re just languid. 

You’re greedy and selfish, but you remind yourself that it’s okay to allow yourself of these freedoms, even for a little bit. As Vernon finds your sweet spot that has you rolling your hips against his, you find that temporary fix isn’t a bad start at all. 

When you trudge back to your apartment that night after much reluctance, your face is still flushed and you think you smell a little too much like Vernon’s cologne. But the fact that still stands is that you're satiated, and you feel a tiny percent closer to moving on. 

The television is glowing with a terrible reality TV show, angry brides upset over cake layers or whatever. Jungkook and Jisoo have fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by half-empty boxes. Jungkook has his arm lazily over Jisoo, her petite body fitting perfectly between his chest and the crook of his neck. 

You scoff when you spy Jisoo's bedazzled manicure digging into Jungkook's bicep, as if someone's going to take him away if she doesn't hold tight.

With stiff muscles you spare one look at Jungkook, ignoring the pang in your chest as you weave between boxes to turn the TV off. Barely an iota of your feelings have dissipated since your previous tryst with Vernon not an hour ago. Looking at Jungkook brings it all back, unfortunately. You suppose the feelings will pass with time. The soft hum of the television ceases, and you’re bathed in a room that feels dark and empty, despite the apparent life in the room. 

There’s some bleary talk coming from the couch as you walk to your bedroom, and if Jungkook is sleepily mumbling your name in question, you pretend you don’t hear. 

“So, where’s y/n? I thought she was going to help us pack.” 

It’s an innocent enough question, as Jungkook scans the corner of the living room hallway that leads to the bedrooms. You haven’t come out yet. He knows that you love sleeping in on the weekends, but he hopes the smell of fresh food will coax you to the table. His pan is sizzling in protest, telling Jungkook to quit talking and flip the hashbrowns. He's fried up three, in the hopes you’d be up for some crispy potatoes. He knows how much you love potatoes, especially at 2AM when you’re craving fries and a McFlurry combo. 

Instead Jisoo mutters, “You toasted too much bread, you know I don’t eat bread like this,” she’s pulling slice by slice out of the toaster, until there’s a stack of six golden toasts in the middle of the kitchen table. 

A little part of him wishes to quell the precursor to the argument there. It would be so easy for Jungkook to say, “the extras are for me” because he’s trying to gain weight, and that would be that. 

Instead he continues with his unanswered question and replies honestly, “I made extra toast for y/n, babe. She was supposed to help us pack but I haven’t seen her all weekend.” But he’s pretty sure you came home last night, unless that was his imagination. 

Jisoo pulls a carafé of apple juice out of the fridge, pouring the amber liquid into two glass cups. “Ah, she said she had some last minute things to do for work. Y’know, Big Hit always wants a big hit.” 

He chuckles, tilting his head as Jisoo gives him a small smile from the kitchen table. Jisoo is always good at cheesy jokes. “She must love her job, huh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Her articles are really good, too,” the air smells like butter and Italian seasoning, as he places one hash brown on Jisoo’s plate, and two on his. He knows you edit in the Arts & Media section, and loves how you make it a point to include video games and modern graphics when it’s deemed appropriate. “She did a piece on the evolution of RPG and I thought her commentary was really spot-on.” 

He brings breakfast over to the table, while Jisoo places two slices of toast on his plate, one buttered and one with strawberry preserves. Breakfast is a quiet, but peaceful affair. Jungkook takes note of how Jisoo takes extra long to complete her meal, her fork creating ribbons in her little blob of magenta jam. He allows himself to complete his first hashbrown and a slice of toast before asking the difficult question. 

“Are you and y/n okay?” and he also takes note when Jisoo’s ministrations on her jelly stop, as she looks up at him with her big brown eyes. 

“We’re fine,” she insists, “just normal roommate issues, I promise.” 

“Maybe I should text y/n,” Jungkook says, pulling out his phone. “Lemme help you fix this, wouldn’t want you and her in a bad place when you’re about to move out.” 

“Baby, why are you so concerned about y/n?” Jisoo croons while his thumb hovers over your contact, his screen showing a two-year old selfie you two took during a study session early on in your friendship. He can’t remember the last time you two took a picture together out of spite, one without Jisoo. Jisoo’s hand pulls him away from his phone, rubbing small circles between his palm. 

He wants to ask, why aren’t you? But he sees the terseness in Jisoo’s smile, as her eyes fix between the interlocked fingers. He has a feeling he’s hovering somewhere he isn’t allowed to be in. Maybe it really is roommate stuff and it’s none of his business, but he feels a little insulted being left out because you and Jungkook are just as much best friends as you were in college. 

Or are you? 

This question plagues him throughout the day, and when Jungkook packs enough boxes for the weekend and says he needs to go home, Jisoo for once doesn’t argue. Normally Jisoo would cling to him like a koala, murmur simultaneously adorable and dirty things in his ear and lead him to her bedroom to coop up for hours on end. But Jisoo says she’s tired and needs some alone time, which is also fine. 

He doesn’t feel like going home, and instead heads straight to the gym. A couple pumps wouldn’t hurt, and it would clear his head. It’s nearly five in the evening when his body is thrumming with the afterglow of his post-workout, and he decides to take a little cool down in the mall and treat himself to a smoothie. 

It must be kismet when he sees you coming out of the bookstore, looking a little winded but no less professional in your beige blazer set and rose gold iPad. Whenever he hung around your apartment with Jisoo and you’d come home from work, he’d make it a point to acknowledge your plethora of multicolored skirt-suits. He never needs to be professional in his place of work, and admires how much effort you put in. 

“Hey!” he jogs up to you, and he catches the way your shoulders jump at his voice. “We missed you today.”

Your smile curls into something dry, and you twist your spine like rusty hinges to face him. In turn, his smile dims a little, wondering if he’s doing something wrong. Maybe you’re tired? He catches the line of sweat that glistens your baby hairs, and how your hair is done up but has fallen a few centimeters with some pieces falling out. 

“Jungkook,” you exhale, “lifting boxes wasn’t enough of a workout?” 

“You know me,” he replies stiffly, hiking his backpack higher upon his shoulder. Why does this conversation feel so awkward? “So, finishing up work? Sucks you have to work on a Sunday.” 

“Ah, it wasn’t so bad,” you face relaxes a little as you explain your work, “it was children’s day at the bookstore and they were watching Disney movies. I’m writing a piece on how I believe Ratatouille is Pixar’s magnum opus. Interviewed some kids, I wanted an expert opinion.”  

“Ratatouille is the superior film,” he declares with a firm nod, “after all, anyone can cook.” He revels in the small smile he manages to retrieve from you, immediately understanding the inside joke. If he came out of the gym five minutes earlier, he probably would’ve been able to catch you in the bookstore. What a shame, he would’ve loved to see you play around with the kids. 

At the mention of food, the mall manages to silence itself enough for him to catch the grumbling coming from your stomach. He laughs when your cheeks heat. 

“I was on my way to get some smoothies,” he jabs a thumb in the direction of the food court, “wanna catch up and get a bite?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I have a lot of work to edit,” disappointment pangs in his chest at your easy rejection, but he ignores it, “I kinda wanna save some money too, still not sure if I’m staying in the apartment after Jisoo moves.” 

He doesn’t know what compels him to take your shoulders and wheel you in the direction of the food court, much to your protest and whines. “C’mon, explain to me why Ratatouille is the magnum opus—I need to defend why The Incredibles is superior. I’ll treat you to dinner.” 

“What? I can pay for my own food—” 

“And I can’t treat my best friend to a nice meal once in a while?” 

That has you stopping in your tracks, and Jungkook nearly barrels his chest into your head if not for the grippy soles of his Adidas Ultraboosts. He can’t see your face, but his hands note how your muscles cord tightly between the cotton of your blazer. 

He doesn’t understand why you’re so tense. Was it because he called you his best friend? Well, you are? At one point he felt that way, early on in college. The position just stuck with you. And when Jisoo told him you weren’t interested, he was perfectly fine with the platonic relationship. It was nice to have someone to talk media and video games to, someone not as chaotic as Jimin and someone not as deterred as Yoongi. 

Although, maybe as of late he hasn’t been so much of a friend. It’s no one’s fault, he’s been caught up with work and Jisoo’s move, he hasn’t said so much as a “hey how are you” when you’re around. He can’t blame you. 

Suddenly his mind blanks, the mall fading away as he focuses on how small you look as your eyes dart between the parking lot and the food court. Jisoo and Jungkook have been so caught up on each other lately, that he fears you’re starting to separate yourself.

“Um, this place is good,” you tug him by the elbow and lead him to a fast food joint. 

When he picks up both your orders and comes over to your saved table, you’re talking animatedly on the phone. You’re laughing, looking at Jungkook as if he’s the one intruding and you’re muttering a hushed “sorry” as you continue the tail end of the conversation. 

“Yes, Joonie. Go with section two, I know my shit. I’m your Work Wife for a reason, Umji in PR could never compare,” you’re giggling like you’re five years younger, and Jungkook feels stuck in a timelapse. 

He watches you go, throwing around names and terms that he’s so lost on but so desperate to understand. He knows nothing about your life other than the one that’s tied with Jisoo, which is a damn shame. Since when did he inevitably downgrade you from “best friend” to “his girlfriend’s roommate?” 

“I’m sorry,” you turn your phone over and push it to the side, giving Jungkook a smile as well, albeit weaker, “let’s dig in!” 

To his relief the dinner goes as good as it should be. You have your tray practically overflowing at the seams, all on Jungkook’s dime. It has his heart swelling with pride, he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. There’s fries spilling out from the corners, and two sandwiches because you couldn’t decide between a chicken sandwich and a burger. 

Food gets you amicable, and he doesn’t mind when he does most of the talking. You’re engrossed in his talk, lettuce hanging out of your mouth as you’re rapt with attention as he recalls a story that happened at work recently with Mingyu. You ask questions in all the right places and he sucks up all your attention like a happy pill, and it feels nice to be able to lead a conversation for once. 

“Jeez, I’m getting the burger sweats,” you giggle to yourself, and his smile brightens at your positive change in attitude. Food always helps. 

When you remove your thick high-collar blazer, that’s when he sees it. 

“Seeing someone?” he asks, eyes flickering curiously towards the violet bruises that bloom across your neck. 

“What–oh,” you have the audacity to look embarrassed, hands clutching your neck like a shield, “no, just a hookup.” 

A messy hookup, too. Unless you had a thing for showing off marks, which doesn’t seem to be the case. “Didn’t peg you for someone who hooks up,” he says more to himself than you, but you catch him on his impulse jab. 

Your eyes narrow and your defenses go up, “I’m trying to get over someone,” you snip back, busying your hands by crushing up your greasy sandwich wrappers. 

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?” 

“Since you asked so politely, no.” 

He sighs, “I just don’t think that’s the best way to get over someone,” heck, Jungkook doesn’t even know who exactly you’re trying to get over. He just knows that you’re far too smart and independent to let yourself resort to such matters. 

“It isn’t, but it’s really the best option as of now,” you reply curtly. 

And his gaze saddens as he sees you fold your blazer over your arm, indicating that your time is up. Jungkook is aware the comment he made is out of line, and it weakens him knowing that you don’t even want to pick a fight with him. He can’t even find it in himself to apologize properly. 

He doesn’t know if he’s more sad that you’re pining over someone unattainable or upset at himself for not knowing you’ve been harboring feelings for someone. If you really think hooking up is your only option, you must be really hung about whoever you’re into as of late. 

“If it’s worth anything,” Jungkook adds, wanting to leave on a high note, “fuck that guy. He clearly doesn’t deserve you.” 

A small, secret smile plays on your lips, “Yeah, I like to believe that.” 

“I’m anxious,” Namjoon’s mantra makes the whole energy in the room wobbly, paired with the fact the two of you are squished between cardboard boxes as Jungkook aimlessly moves things around like a Tetris screen. 

The only time you feel remotely comfortable basking in your home is when Jisoo is gone. Oh-so conveniently is the Big Hit building undergoing maintenance today, so you and Namjoon have decided to work from home in your apartment. Although you thought by now that Jisoo’s boxes would be long gone and tucked away in Jungkook’s place, instead you’re living in an episode of Ed, Edd and Eddy and the cardboard is practically wall-to-wall. You also thought by now that Jungkook would have no reason to show up unannounced anymore, but apparently that’s not the case. 

“I have, anxiety,” Namjoon adjusts his glasses for the nth time this afternoon, brain not fixed enough to focus on the screen of his chrome MacBook, “anxiety, anxiety. I can’t right now. I need my weighted blanket and a pillow.” 

“Namjoon, I can get both of those for you if we just send in this last spread,” you coo gently, as if placating a baby. You make brief eye contact with Jungkook from the other side of the room, his lips quirking in amusement as he stacks a box of clothes by the kitchen. 

“Do you feel my palms? My palms, they’re like a fucking fountain you need to feel them—” your Wusband approaches you like a zombie, leaning over you and tripping over his criss-crossed legs before he topples over you. 

“Blegh, get off of me you sweat giant!” you cry with a good-natured laugh, although the grip of Namjoon’s palms under your shoulders are damp and slimy, “Joon, I can’t get you your blanket if you’re crushing my boobs.” 

Namjoon finally relents, untacking himself to rest his chin on your glass coffee table. “Fine.” 

“Look over the last column and I’ll bring your blanket, okay?” 

Pushing yourself off the ground, you shuffle your way out of the living room through the maze of boxes and into the hallway. It feels like your apartment is less of an apartment and more of a storage space when you’re trapped in-between two lines of boxes, and Jungkook effectively blocking you from entering your room. He was just in the living room but now he’s come from the linen closet, standing between the entrance of your room. 

“Sorry,” he pops his head out from a smaller box, one filled with designer costume jewelry. 

“It’s fine,” you chirp, barely making eye contact as you shuffle over the boxes. 

Your toe drags over the lid of one of the open boxes in an attempt to move diagonally. You nearly crash your face into the hardwood if not for Jungkook’s arm stretching out to catch you. In seconds he manages to catch all your weight in one hand, pulling you to him with your hip pressed against his. Your breath traps itself in your neck. Your subconscious fears that if you speak now, you’ll babble about how attractive it is that he’s able to catch you as easily as grabbing a light sheet of paper. 

“Careful,” his voice rumbles in his throat as he regards you with a wan smile. 

Your “thanks” is barely uttered as you slip into your room, heaving your weighted blanket and a pillow in your arms to let Namjoon borrow. 

The burgundy quilted fabric is hunched over your shoulder, draped around your body so it’s easier for you to carry on your back. You try to eradicate the memory of Jungkook’s arms, lean and strong as he held you to him moments before.

Ugh, you thought messing around with Vernon would stop your silly pining. It seems that it’ll take more than a couple rounds to satiate your curiosity. For such a kind guy, Jungkook seems like a wolf in sheep’s clothing when it comes to the bedroom. 

You can imagine him being so kind in the beginning, coaxing you to wan and bend to his every wish and command. And then when you keen a little too hard at the attention, you bet a switch would flip and he’d grab you—

The blanket flops around your back, and you’re sorely reminded that you’re thirsting over a taken man, yet again.  

Jungkook makes it extremely difficult for him to be hateable. It’s by nature that he’s just so damn likeable. Heck, he’s pretty much packed seventy percent of the things Jisoo should be packing right now. 

Making sure not to trip again, on your feelings and your blanket, you successfully reach a tired Namjoon. You tuck your koala-shaped pillow under your co-editor’s arms, and drape the heavy blanket over him like a cape. He’s giving you a thumbs up and a toothless smile, the previous meltdown overcome as he focuses on finishing the last of today’s work. He’s slipped on some noise-cancelling earphones, presumably filled with generic coffee-house music or rain playlists. 

Wordlessly you go to your nook to prepare some tea. It’s getting late and a warm cup would distract you from the impending deadline. Despite the fact that you and Namjoon are 99% of the way done, his previous freak-out has you on live-wire and you could use a little caffeine. 

Placing three mugs on the counter you call, “Jungkook, tea?” 

“Yes please,” you stiffen when you feel Jungkook magically appear right behind you, his head peering over your shoulder, “with milk and honey.” 

Deciding to give Jungkook the beehive-shaped mug because it’s very on-brand for him, you begin to steep the leaves in your kettle while he spoons the honey. 

“So,” his words are slow as the drip of honey, the amber goo taking its time to descend into his mug as it falls from the dipper. “Is that the guy you’re trying to get over?” 

Jungkook lifts his brows towards Namjoon, who is softcore jamming to his white noise playlist. It’s cute as to how curious Jungkook is about Namjoon. While you try to keep your work life separate, there really isn’t much backstory to your personal life to warrant that kind of divide. 

“Namjoon,” you state aloud, watching Namjoon sing badly to himself, “why, are you gonna beat him up for me?” 

“I can take him,” you can practically hear Jungkook’s chest pop out. 

With a roll of your eyes, you reach to kill the heat off the tea kettle, “No need. He isn’t the guy I’m trying to get over.” 

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?” 

“Shit!” being caught off guard, you grab at the handle of your kettle without a pot holder, burning your fingertips. In seconds Jungkook’s larger hand encases your own, pulling you over to the sink to soak your fingers in cool running water.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jungkook is chanting like a sinner at church, searching for any sign of pain in your visage, “I shouldn’t have asked while you’re working with a hot stove.” 

You suppress a sigh, relaxing your fingers as Jungkook soothes the burn with his gentle hold, “Shouldn’t have asked in the first place,” you mumble. 

“I know,” he replies, “guess I’m just feeling a little left out. We don’t talk like we used to. I guess I’m getting a little too nosy for my own good, aren’t I?” 

You don’t understand what’s going on with his incessant babbling as of late, but you chalk it up to work stress and Jisoo’s move. Having no answers to his honest reply, you gently untack your red palm from his grip, assuring him that you’re fine. 

Namjoon steps into your kitchenette, being surprisingly careful as he takes your potholder to pour himself a cup of tea. If the tea is oversteeped and bitter he doesn’t say anything, only leans against the counter as he regards you two with slow sips. “You alright?” 

“M’fine,” you reply stubbornly, avoiding Jungkook’s worried stare. 

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.” 

“No—”

“Hand.” 

His deep voice coerces you, and you immediately slap the back of your palm onto Namjoon’s. Your partner brushes his golden hands over the tiny blister that’s forming over your fingertips. “Can’t have my Work Wife outta commission.” 

“Your Work Wife is fine,” you gripe back. 

Your co-worker’s eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s for a brief second, Jungkook regarding him in curiosity as he stares at your connected palms. “I have some aloe in my bag for sunburns,” Namjoon offers helpfully, ignoring the weird glances, “I’ll give it to you in a bit. Also, I’ve overcome my sudden bout of stress and I’m ready to email our progress to Victoria. We’re done for the day.” 

“Awesome, thanks Joonie,” you exhale, relaxing against the sink, “wanna go eat somewhere?” 

“There’s a niche place in Itaewon if you wanna check it out?” Namjoon offers.

Jungkook interjects, “Jisoo ordered pizza if you guys wanna share with us?” 

“Pizza also sounds good—” 

“We don’t wanna interrupt your alone time,” you gracefully cut in, stepping in front of Namjoon despite the fact that he’s easily towering over you. 

Jungkook snorts, “I’ll have enough alone time with her when she moves in, don’t worry. Besides, I ordered three pies because I wanted to try three different flavor combos. I need two additional judges.” 

“Thanks Jungkook but,” you stifle a cry when Namjoon jabs you in the back with his thumb. It’s pressing, digging into the small of your back as if he’s trying to telepathically tell you that you’re being rude, “but… I don’t know if I can eat three slices! Namjoon on the other hand, can probably eat enough to fairly judge.” 

“Great,” Jungkook’s smile is blinding, causing your grin to stiffen as he looks for his phone to shoot Jisoo a quick text that they’re having dinner for four. 

Once Jungkook’s out of earshot, Namjoon tugs you by the sleeve, “The hell was that?” he hisses in your ear, “you look like you’re about to shit and piss your pants at the same time.” 

“I just don’t feel comfortable eating with them,” you cross your arms in defiance. You think back to just a week ago where you and Jisoo reluctantly attempted to eat breakfast together one morning. You provided minimal small talk while Jisoo clinged to her phone, replying to you in non-committal clipped tones. 

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” you retort, “you got me into this mess, you’re gonna stay with me ‘till the end.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, woman,” Namjoon throws his arms out exasperatedly, oolong tea nearly sloshing onto his hand, “just suck it up or I revoke your bragging rights to that snag you got on our spread next Monday.” 

“Not my fault you couldn’t get Kim Taeyeon on the spread,” you smirk. 

“Well I didn’t so happen to stalk the Sephora she frequents for the past two weeks—” 

“I didn’t stalk her I just so happened to need a new Fenty Gloss Bomb every other day—”

“I’m home, Jungkookie!” 

Your face contorts, your playful energy melting to the hardwood as your previous banter with Namjoon evaporates into thin air. Work bags in one hand and three boxes of pizza balancing in the other, Jisoo kicks off her heels somewhere across the door and places the pizza on the dining table. 

Jungkook immediately appears by her side, and you look away and Jisoo plants a heavy kiss on his lips. She cracks open one eye as she notices you and Namjoon hanging by the kitchenette, “Oh,” she mumbles at her audience, “you’re here?” 

Yes, you bimbo. I’m here in my own apartment. 

“I guess you didn’t read my text that they’ll be joining us for dinner,” Jungkook cuts in good-naturedly, “we have way too much pizza anyway. Have a seat, guys.” 

Jungkook navigates the kitchen as easily as your own, and you slump in your chair while Namjoon exchanges pleasantries with Jisoo. She looks impeccable, hair in a tight chignon and a tight navy dress as she converses with your co-editor. 

“I’m starving,” Jungkook announces, making sure to place a slice on Jisoo’s plate. He shuffles through the other boxes, making brief eye contact with you when he decides to put a slice on yours as well, “you like these toppings, right?” 

You regard the greasy, hearty piece of cheese and bread with a curt nod. You feel Jisoo’s eyes laser on your skin, “Yeah, thanks Kook.” 

Namjoon, Jisoo and Jungkook mostly stir up the conversation, you opting to eat as slow as possible to avoid any conversation. It’s easy to blend back and let them take over, as Jisoo loves to talk about her fashion firm and Namjoon is a great listener. 

Jungkook and Namjoon make it a point to direct the conversation to you from time to time, and you let the ball leave your court as soon as it lands. You prefer to keep your responses short and simple, especially when Jisoo is so eager to talk about the new silk drapes she’s installing for Jungkook’s windows.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, and you discreetly look under the table to read the incoming text message. 

vernie bernie: would u like to do the devil’s dance tonight

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle? 

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean? 

You: ohmyGOD 

vernie bernie: or y’know, u could just come ovr and chill. Hobi made some bomb tres leches

You: call. Ill come after dinner

“Are you okay, y/n?” your head bounces up to meet Jungkook’s gaze, “you’ve barely eaten and you haven’t talked much.” 

“Oh you know, she’s just stressed about the upcoming spread,” Namjoon steps in for you, and you send him a discrete, but grateful smile. He’s always impeccable at reading the room, “she’s just nervous about her interview with Kim Taeyeon, but I think you did her interview justice.” 

“No way, the singer Kim Taeyeon?” Jungkook gushes, regarding you with stars in his eyes, “your interviews are always so great, y/n. You ask really good questions. Like that one spread about  Lee Yonghwa’s art gallery? Really cool.” 

You notice the way Jisoo presses her lips together, a thin line as if she’s trying to seal away words that she’ll regret saying. She’s jealous, and you can’t help the blush of pride that fills your veins as you raise a secret brow at her. 

“Right, you got nothing to worry about,” Namjoon squeezes your shoulder encouragingly, as if you’d get his double-meaning. 

“Thanks,” you reply, pushing your plate away and standing up, “I’m actually gonna go head to Vernon’s for a bit, though. He wants to double check his work before we email Victoria.” 

It’s a bald-faced lie, Namjoon sent the files to Victoria right before dinner, but he isn’t going to argue. 

“Okay,” Namjoon thanks Jungkook and Jisoo for the meal, stacking his plate atop yours, “I’ll walk out with you.” 

“It’s only been twenty minutes, though,” you see the slight panic in Jungkook’s gaze as he watches you quickly clean up for you and Namjoon. You can’t quite pin why he’s so concerned, after all he has been acting strange as of late. 

“Yeah, I’m full,” you reply curtly, licking your lips and avoiding his gaze. You already know what he wants to say, that he’s been in your apartment all day and all he’s seen you eat is stale chips and tea, “but we can do this again.” But hopefully not. 

“If you’re coming home late again,” it’s the first time Jisoo has spoken to you directly. You tilt your head to her slowly, watching the plastic smile carefully carved onto her expression. You see the contrived care and concern between her brows, “please try to be quieter next time, the last time you came home late you woke Jungkookie up.” 

Snapping your gaze to Jungkook you plaster on a thick smile, “Sorry Jungkook—” 

“What? No, it’s fine!” he furrows his brows in confusion, finally able to detect the strange tension between the two housemates, “I barely heard you—” 

“Maybe I’ll just stay the night at Vernon’s,” your eyes trail over to the pajama set you immediately switched into when you got home today, “wouldn’t want to disturb you two.” 

“Good,” Jisoo’s tone is saccharine and clipped as she tacks on a, “have fun.” 

It’s laudable, how much Jisoo wants to make a fool out of you but you won’t have it. You revel in the perplexed expression as Jungkook’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of you, wanting to butt in but unsure of how to approach it. Not giving him the time to, you bid the couple a goodnight and make a fast getaway. Heck, you don’t even take your work stuff with you. 

Once you’re out the door, Namjoon wordlessly gives you a hug. You sigh gratefully into his embrace. 

The next time Jungkook sees you, he reads the room before anything. You and Jisoo’s apartment is scarily empty, almost clinical. He’s tried texting you a few times after his failed-not-failed attempt at catching up at the mall and his awkward conversation concerning Namjoon, but you always reply back with vague replies and an unpromised promise of meeting up sometime soon. 

It dulls him to think that you’ve given up on him as a friend. But can you blame him? He needs to keep an appropriate distance for Jisoo, after all, she doesn’t like it when he gets too close to other women unless it’s strictly professional. Usually Jisoo’s jealousy inevitably works itself out and Jungkook doesn’t pose any problems because he has very few girl friends, but for some reason your friendship with him specifically gets Jisoo stiff in the face. Is it because you and Jisoo are so close? Possibly. 

But it doesn’t mean you can’t join the same Valorant server with him at 2AM and accidentally bomb each other, or argue over the magnum opus of each film company. Is that not enough? 

Jisoo’s working overtime, and Jungkook suggested last night that he move the boxes to the front of the door for easy pick-up when the moving truck arrives. Jisoo promises to buy Thai food in return, and with a kiss emoji she leaves him to audit fabric budgets. 

As he glides down to Jisoo’s room he notes that the pictures along the wall have disappeared, and there’s double the amount of boxes in the hallway. It seems that you’re moving out too. To where, he doesn’t know but he hopes it isn’t too far. 

He chides Jisoo remotely when he sees that her room is completely intact, and he makes moves to pack up her things. 

That’s when he finds his letter. Not a love letter to Jisoo, but a love letter to you. Deep in the recesses of Jisoo’s junk drawer, is a faded lavender envelope with a pressed cream colored baby’s breath taped up in plastic. The glue is yellow and old, clearly served its purpose due to the fact that the letter is already opened and the contents rumpled. 

Hey Pretty Girl–

He immediately stuffs the letter back in its holder, stricken at his messy handwriting from two years ago. It feels like he found a time capsule, another version of Jungkook confessing to you. He used to call you Pretty Girl, not enough for you to catch on to his feelings, but enough for you to understand that he did find you attractive. It was early on in your friendship. 

When you first asked him to be study partners for some silly class that had nothing to do with each other’s majors, he gaped like a guppy and pointed to himself. That day he went to class in last night’s clothes and a nest of fluffy strands. “Me?” he felt like absolute trash, and you were probably desperate due to the fact you two were the only seniors in this class, “but you’re a pretty girl… and I’m pretty dumb when it comes to this subject.” 

But instead you scoffed and pulled him from his slumped figure, dragging him to the library, with a wink and a “you’re pretty, too.” Those words have burned in his brain since then, as he wasn’t used to getting such off-handed compliments, especially from intelligent girls that wanted more than one night. 

For whatever reason you continued seeing his dumb self, even after the semester ended and together registered for one more class for spring. 

Whenever you’d go out for ice cream you wouldn’t hesitate to stuff your face and add for extra Oreos and fries, you’d assure Jungkook you’re not normally this much of a slob. 

Jungkook would just smile and offer you a napkin and say, “You’re still a pretty girl.” 

He fell for you gracefully. There was no regret, no walk of shame, no cliché late night party where you or him could’ve instigated it into the physical. It was all by feel. 

However the two of you took your time with your relationship, languidly enjoying the hushed conversations in the library at 2AM, the late night McFlurry runs, the integration of each other’s friends like it was natural. Ergo the lavender love letter. It was a gentle declaration, one he felt pretty confident in. 

So color him stupid when you passed him in class with a happy wave, Jungkook dumbfounded at how well you handled his confession. You weren’t oblivious, you just never read it. 

But now he knows the declaration was for whatever reason, lost in transit. “I should’ve known,” he whispers in the air, the letter crumpling in his grip. Composing himself, he pinches his brows.  

There’s an electronic buzz and a sharp slam of the front door. Judging by the time, you’re home. 

You flop onto your mattress, folding an arm over your head to stop the sun from seeping to your eyes. Vernon’s exhausted you, and you barely got away before he could have any say in it. You need a little space, and some time to think. 

Just as you close the door to your bedroom, it swings open. 

You gape as Jungkook thrusts himself into your bedroom like a deer with horns, looking pale. You follow his gaze, darkened eyes that linger a little too long on your neck again, and you narrow your eyes at him to avert. He looks a little red in the cheeks despite his pallidness, looking like he just got out of bed with messy wavy locks and his signature sweats. Is Jungkook packing for Jisoo again? 

Acutely aware that you smell like sweat and sex, you clutch the blankets closer to your body. “Uh, rude.” 

He looks uncharastically frantic, waving a letter in his hand, “Did you ever read this?” 

“Read what?” you ask, hands reaching out for the envelope. 

“My confession letter,” he blurts, having no shame now that all the gears are running through his head. “I wrote you a letter asking you out, because you said you wanted to collect notes like in Letters to Juliet. But I just found it in Jisoo’s drawer, why would it be there?” 

And all the pent up frustration that never seemed to escape under Vernon’s sheets, the feelings that never seem to subside, all bubble back to the surface. Now that Jungkook knows, there’s no hiding. 

You’re in shock, hands reaching for the letter despite the burn that seeps through your fingertips. Jungkook’s shoulders slump when you do indeed look like it’s your first time seeing this, as if a missing puzzle piece in your timeline has finally been revealed.

“I, I didn’t think you’d write me a letter,” you take the lavender envelope, clutching the letter by your chest like it’s something precious, “that’s so sweet,” you say to yourself.  

It dawns on him, “Wait, you knew about this? I knew something weird was going on.” 

“Only recently,” you frown. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” he nearly shouts, causing you to flinch, “no wonder why you were being so weird all this time. How could you let me live the rest of my life knowing this? That my relationship is built on a lie? ” 

“I don’t know,” you suddenly feel very small in your mattress as Jungkook rounds up on you, pulling your desk chair closer to your bed, “because you love Jisoo, of course.” 

“Well obviously that’s not possible,” and while yes a two-year realtionship ending like this is going to hit him hard tonight, he’s focused on you and the fact that you failed to tell him, “somehow I’d find out. Why wait for me to find out on my own?” 

“Because I wanted to protect you!” 

“Protect me,” he scoffs, crossing his arms and sneering at you. It causes you to tense up, feeling the telltale signs of tears bubbling to the surface, “you don’t even want to be friends anymore, y/n. I’ve tried to catch up to you so many times, but you keep leaving me hanging. I know I’ve been a pretty bad friend and I get it if you just feel awkward that I liked you, then that’s a shitty reason.” 

“Have you ever considered that it’s too late to tell you?” you shoot back, sitting up straight, “yes, I admit I should’ve told you earlier and I’m sorry, but it was a lot for me to process to y’know? Jisoo and I haven’t talked properly in weeks!” 

“Oh, so you’ve stopped trying to be friends with Jisoo too, huh? Just like you’re trying to stop being friends with me.” 

“No,” you pinch your brows, “she stopped being friends with me! She doesn’t care about me because she has you,” conflict burns in Jungkook’s gaze, and you only serve to fuel the fire, “she’s tried so hard to not involve me in your relationship.” 

“Just tell me why you’ve really kept this secret instead of saying you want to protect me like a baby—” 

“It’s because I’m in love with you, idiot!” 

You blink and back up against the wall of your bedroom, as if you can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth. 

It’s quiet again. The sour look evaporates from Jungkook’s face as he watches you suppress your sobs on your mattress. The room seems devoid, sucked out of its color as you’ve cleaned up most of your things, the only thing left being some plain grey sheets and a pillow. 

Jungkook’s mind is absolutely reeling, playing back memories from a different point of view. 

“When Jisoo told me she sabotaged our relationship so she could date you, I was so upset and didn’t know what to think,” you manage to place the lavender note on your wooden desk, making sure no tears could mar it. “And I thought I could move on and eventually stay friends with the both of you, but the next day Jisoo put all her attention on you and completely ignored me or any attempt to salvage our friendship. She only told me to forgive herself,” you’re hugging yourself, wrapping the blankets around you like a weak embrace, “so I thought if I cut myself out of the picture and forced myself to move on like I should’ve, everything would’ve been okay.” 

“So, you would’ve rather kept all this pain to yourself?” 

“Yeah,” you give him a teary smile, “because I wanted you to be happy.” 

And with an equally sad smile he murmurs, “But I’m not happy.” 

 Your face falls, and you really look at Jungkook. He’s exhausted as well, slumped in his chair. Has he been trying to grapple along the threads of his relationships, while you’ve been trying to loosen them? 

“What a waste of two years,” he slumps in your chair, letting the pieces click into place, “a relationship built on fake love. I was really trying, y’know. I thought I was going crazy.” 

The three of you have unknowingly been playing a futile game of Cat’s Cradle, a game that no one wins. 

Jungkook looks wistfully out the window, noting the pleasant day that fails to present itself in your tiny room. It feels simultaneously satisfying and bitter when it falls into place, your thoughts finally fitting together for the first time in months. “We could’ve loved each other. For real,” he says, and you silently agree. 

You’re still crying, shaking like a leaf in autumn. Jungkook’s arms hover awkwardly over yours, his warmth palpable despite the fact that he hasn’t touched you yet. With a timid smile you allow consent, and you melt like putty in his arms. 

“Kookie, ‘m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you murmur into his shoulder, not caring if it hurts when you press your chin into his skin. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” 

It’s been so long to have him close like this, the friend you’ve always wanted but never needed. Since college you’ve always imagined a life without him doing just fine, but that doesn’t mean you want to live without him, roommate’s boyfriend or not. 

“I’m sorry too,” he sighs back, “this sucks right now, but we’ll be alright.” 

The two of you sit in your room until it turns dark and the sky muddles into shades of twilight and egg yolk orange. There’s lulls in the conversation, the two of you filling in the gaps and making sense of the mumbo-jumbo that’s been going on in your consciousness up until this point. Your insantities turn sane, and by the time Jisoo’s making her way back inside with the smell of pad thai, Jungkook is ready. With a squeeze to each other and a press of your lips because you don’t know what to say, you tuck yourself in and pretend to fall asleep. 

“Messy, messy, messy,” Vernon sing-songs, knocking his heels against the wall. 

The both of you are sitting upside-down, butts attached to the wall connecting to his mattress and your feet hanging in the air. Your mint floral organza socks pad against his Pink Floyd poster, while his yellow tube socks are heeling against some old Polaroids from college. There’s no prospect of sex today, not when shit just hit the fan. 

Today you and Vernon are just two old friends and very close co-workers. 

“Tell me about it,” you bemoan, frowning at the beige wall, “this whole week’s just been a whole mess. It’s like, warm tuna salad.”

“Gross,” Vernon grimaces at the apt comparison, “so what happens now?” 

You sit up on your elbows, looking down at Vernon’s peaceful expression, “What do you mean?” 

“Like, are you gonna get together with him?”

You snort, flopping back down on his bed. The blankets fluff around you and you inhale the pine scented sheets. “After all that? No.” 

“But you still love him?” 

It must sound dumb to still love him after all this time. You wouldn’t be surprised if Vernon thought you’re silly to still hold a place in your heart for someone who has fifteen million things on their plate now. After all the physicality and the space Vernon gave you in his home, your feelings haven’t wavered. 

Your companion doesn’t bother waiting for your answer, hearing your answer somewhere in the air as he gets up and throws on his denim jacket. Rolling over your stomach you ask, “Where are you going?” 

“Some friends down in printing want to meet up for drinks,” Vernon messes up his hair, making the waves part in that little coiff that makes his jawline look sharp. “I heard Yerin really wanted me to come, so.” 

You can’t help the little middle school coo that comes from your lips, causing Vernon to giggle and throw a pillow at you. “Yerin’s cute!” you declare, remembering the petite girl in overalls who’s all about pops of yellow and violet, “you're into her?” 

“Nah,” Vernon holds up two hats in his hands, gesturing for you to pick one. “Just figured it was a push in the right direction.” 

Crawling out of his bed you stumble in your oversized t-shirt, tucking a finger under your chin as you decide between the emerald bucket hat and the red Ralph Lauren baseball cap. You pull out both hats from his hands and set it down on his vanity, opting to smooth out the flyaways and ringing your fingers through his soft curls. “And what direction would my free-flowing friend be going today?” you ask aloud, “you look better with your hair out,” you declare firmly, “makes you look like a fluffy CEO.” 

He laughs at your silly comparison, and he gently moves your hand away from his hair when you linger a little too close to him. His gaze is solemn as he regards you with a gentle smile, “Keep your distance, I’m tryna get over someone,” he says simply, and your arm falls limp at your sides. 

Your heart thuds in a different direction, your mouth parting but no words coming to the surface. When was the last time you asked about Vernon’s needs, wondered if he was doing alright, making sure you two were on the same page—

“You’re spiraling,” he reads you like a playbook, smoothing down your hair to press a kiss to the crown. Suddenly you feel guilty for not having sparks in your belly, shaming your conscience for not even considering his sacrifices in your self-absorption these past few weeks. “Like I said, I wanted to help you. Stop looking like a kicked puppy, it’s okay to be selfish.” 

With transparent tears the two of you pack up and head to your next destination. Hands ghosting between each other you make your way to the exit of Vernon’s apartment, him to meet up with his friends while you have to unpack your new apartment. With a hug you tell each other you’ll see them on Monday, and as easy as that you go your separate ways.

Hey Pretty Girl—

I kinda wanted to tell you this in person but I know how much you liked Mamma Mia and all those other movies that have grand gestures in writing so I thought hey, might as well shoot my shot on paper. 

Not gonna tell you all the details, because you deserve to hear it in-person. But mayhaps this letter has something to do with how much I like studying with you, watching movies with you, doing absolutely nothing with you and all of that in-between. 

There’s a gift card to our spot attached. Meet me at McDonalds @12 tonight, so I know it’s real 😎

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

P.S. if you haven’t noticed already, I sprayed a little cologne and stole Taehyung’s fancy paper from Muji. That’s how serious I am about you. 

“Joon, we live in a bonsai garden. We’re like giants in a forest.” 

“Can you—can you stop spitting at them? Let them breathe, dammit.” 

“Not my fault they’re so tiny! I literally have to zoom 200% just to get a good look at ‘em.” 

The two of you are huddled in what used to be Namjoon’s balcony, now a sunroom for his succulents and bonsais. Your heart feels pink and swollen with affection as you regard Namjoon with interest, absorbing every bit of information you can as he teaches you how to care for his plants. After all, you’re co-parenting now. 

Having your Wusband co-sign as your roommate for the next year is probably the best decision you have made this year. Everyday is like a breath of fresh air. With Seokjin gone for the year to tour his restaurant franchises, his room is yours for the taking. The two of you are easy going roommates, filling the apartment with color and vigour whether it be in the form of baking sweets or watching Netflix documentaries. 

The only drama you ever have is when you two are having a meltdown over the same work-related issue, as if you two somehow share the same brain cell. It’s significantly less stressful, no need for unnecessary anger when  you have someone as mediating as Namjoon.

After today’s plant lesson, you two go back to the living room to finish up your work for the evening. Another perk of living together is that you can go home at normal work times and continue where you left off with the comfort of your couch and eating a whole pizza pie with no shame. 

Namjoon’s phone pings with a new email from corporate. “We got the new concept for next month’s spread,” he gestures to you with a grandiose wave of his arm, “drumroll please.” 

He pulls up the newsletter from corporate with a flick of his thumb. Your company put out every month’s concept out in an Evite, like every month was a themed party. A stressful, month long work party. In seconds, the page loaded and you’re met with next month’s title bathed in electronic glitter. 

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

The two of you say silent, absorbing the concept like a cookie to milk. It’s a personal spread this month, a real treat for the team to show off their normal non-professional life. A spread that reveals the masters behind the ink and text. Last year’s personal spread was about the staff’s vacation destinations, but this year’s is much more intimate. You can imagine all the ideas that will be thrown around on Monday’s meeting: pinning down shared ideas like Throwback Thursdays, late night munchie runs, drunk stories, and all the crazy college nostalgia that you’ve been trying to avoid as of late. 

But now it’s presented to you in a gold chalice, and while you’re sick of the past you think it’s about time to face it. You’re excited to tackle the dark monster you’ve suppressed since Jungkook and Jisoo’s breakup. 

“Did I ever tell you I was president of my university’s Mock Trial?” 

“No, I always thought you’d be president of the Comparative Literature Club or whatever. But Mock Trial is equally as nerdy.” 

“I’ll have you know Mock Trial got me tons of action,” he winked, “made me very convincing.” 

“Gross,” you sneer, “so that’s what your spread will be about? How the co-editor of the Arts & Entertainment section managed to bag with his skills from Mock Trial?” 

“Nah, I went on a penniless journey with Jin during spring break. Six days around Malta.” 

“That does sound so you,” you sigh, fingers slipping between the cracked screen as you mull over the overly happy Evite, “sounds like a cool story.” 

“I know that look,” Namjoon quips, snatching his phone under his nose, “don’t overthink your spread just yet, it’s still the weekend. Now to more important things, what do you want from Taco Bell?”

And because you can’t refuse the combined efforts of nachos and Namjoon’s dimples, you relent for the night and tack the unmade idea to the next workday. 

Unfortunately the next workday is just as disheartening. Today’s work meeting is the antithesis of icing on the cake. While your college life isn’t anything remarkable, you didn’t think it was a painfully dull time. With every passing moment and every excited co-worker throwing memories back and forth like ping pong balls, the more you felt inferior by competing with their amazing memories. 

“Who can even afford Aruba at twenty-one,” you mutter under your breath, stalking back to your cubicle. 

Filling up a whole spread is daunting to you, the thought of Victoria popping her head in your cubicle to ask what you’ve got for the day is practically eating you from the inside out. Maybe your college life was in actuality, super boring? You have no crazy drug trips to tell, any vacations that gave you a life-changing perspective, or an epic love story. 

“What’cha got there, partner?” 

The third musketeer of your editing team’s caramel eyes peer into your cubicle, causing you to jump in your chair. Vernon wheels around, chair and all to push you into your already cramped space. His gold button up gleams in the sunlight, effectively blinding you. 

“If by something you mean nothing, then yeah I got nothing,” you frown, spinning around your chair. “What are you writing about?” 

A fond smile melts onto your friend’s face, and you can’t help returning a smile that mirrors his own. You two have fallen back into a good place, as far as you know. He’s still easy, simple, sweet Vernon. When you dropped some boxes off in coloring, you heard that Vernon and Yerin have recently started seeing each other. 

“Thought of the idea as soon as the Evite came out. It’s more of a photo spread, but I’m gonna write about my study abroad in NYU,” Vernon ticks a pencil on his forehead, “a self-identity piece talking about how I felt like, not-white around my family n’stuff. And then felt not-Asian at the same time, s’complicated but I think I can make it work.” 

“Deep,” you pat his shoulder caringly, knowing that Big Hit is a good outlet for these kinds of subjects, “alright City Slicker, since you’re so full of ideas then tell me what to write about.” 

Vernon sits up straight, regarding you with narrowed eyes, “Aren’t you gonna write about your little love triangle with Jisoo and Jungkook?” and it seems like he’s already storyboarded the idea in his head, gesturing to the air as if he’s writing down a timeline, “I can see the headline now: How to Steal a Heart,” he’s grinning, nodding fervently as you cross your arms in distaste. 

“Vern, are you suggesting that I exploit Jisoo and Jungkook’s personal lives?” while the journalism business didn’t pride itself on sincerity, it did feel wrong to drag in your personal life to that extent. 

“Babe, you don’t understand. You have the perfect slice of life story. Everyone’s writing about expensive vacations and that one time they got cross-faded and ended up in Busan,” he squeezes your hand, “but your story, it’s relatable. It’s romantic. It’s angsty. It has closure. No one’s gonna be able to relate to an impulse spending on daddy’s money to Aruba. But first loves? Unrequited romance and all that ish? Everyone can speak to that. And you’re a beautiful writer, they’ll eat up that story like honey.” 

“I don’t know, it still doesn’t feel right.” 

“Change up the names, twist the story,” he offers easily, knowing you’d put up a fight, “besides, it’s not like you’re planning on talking to Jisoo or Jungkook ever again,” you open your mouth to retort, but Vernon’s phone beeps to the Star Wars theme song and he’s flying out of his chair. “Shoot, gotta go help Joon upstairs. Just think about it, okay? Good luck!” and he’s kicking his chair out with a brown loafer, leaving you with breathing room in your cubicle. 

Five seconds later Vernon is jogging back, pointing a finger at you, “And if you do choose to write it, you have to add that Jisoo copped your McDonalds gift card. Like, who does that shit? Couldn’t she have just given it to you and say it was from her and not Jungkook? Seriously fucked up.” 

For the next ten or so minutes you mull. Out of all the memorable college events you’ve participated in, the largest one by far is your (now defunct and debatable) friendship with Jisoo, and your (un)requited love for Jungkook. Reluctantly, you must admit Vernon has a sharp idea, busting in like a hero and offering you the most writable piece on a silver platter. 

It doesn’t feel morally right just to start writing, because ultimately you can’t feel comfortable until you get the consent of Jungkook. While you don’t want to touch Jisoo with a ten-meter pole, you do want to start talking to Jungkook again now that the waters have calmed.

Your life has moved gracefully up until this point, and you’d like to start being friends with him again. Decision made, you pull out your phone and make an important call.

“Hey Yoongi,” you say nervously. Min Yoongi is Kim Namjoon’s equivalent, Jungkook’s Wusband and former upperclassmen in college. 

Said man hums noncommittally on the other line, “Whaddya want, it’s been awhile.” 

You stifle a giggle at his apathetic attitude, knowing he’s someone who wastes no time in getting straight to the point. “I just wanna make sure Jungkook’s address is still the same? I know it’s been a couple months, but I need to send him something and I wanna make sure it gets to him ASAP because—”

“Because last time something was sent, your crazy roommate intervened and Jungkook ended up in a two-year half-toxic relationship? Yeah, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Yoongi,” you say slowly, “where are you?” 

“Working in the studio,” he tuts, “Jungkook says hi, by the way.” 

Typical, cat’s out of the bag. With a roll of our eyes you reply, “Thanks for outing me, Yoongi. Talk to you later.” 

“And y/n? Jungkook says he’s waiting.” 

With a stupid smile slapped onto your face, you hang up the phone and pull out your stationary kit from under your desk. You pluck out a vermillion red envelope, a color so bold and begging to be seen, you know it can’t possibly get lost in transit. Feeling a little bit like a high schooler as you pull out a glitter jelly pen, you get to writing. 

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently. 

Their social media runs in different directions, with Jisoo sporting absolute elegance in her work at her family-owned boutique. Her posts are full of shiny outfits and soulless gazes, betraying any pinch of emotion she may have felt over these past few months. Her profile is wiped of any personal posts, all traces of you and Jungkook evaporated from her page. You must admit that she looks good, like a real fashion mogul, but only at the surface level. 

Conversely, Jungkook is thriving. It’s evident. Normally he isn’t the type of guy to post so frequently, his habits being often sporadic and limited to sweaty gym stories. But whenever you scroll, it’s pictures of him smiling. Big bunny teeth broken into a genuine, full-bellied laugh. Cute selfies of him and his co-workers. You notice two familiar co-workers in those posts, Irene and Seulgi, two beautiful women Jisoo always felt intimidated by whenever she ranted to you. You conclude positively that Jungkook doesn’t feel tethered and can hang out with all the friends he wants, female and male alike. Jungkook looks free, and you’re happy for him. 

It’s another Instagram-worthy moment tonight at McDonalds, where you and Jungkook proposed to meet each other at 12AM. 

This time, the letter makes it to its desired destination. You make sure of that because this time you hand-deliver it, slipping under his apartment door knowing he lives alone and no one would be able to access it except him. 

You’re parked in an obscure corner, but you can see that Jungkook is currently having a great time with his co-workers for an after work meal. Yoongi is unbothered on his phone, while Jimin and Seulgi are taking turns throwing fries into each other’s mouth. Jungkook is squished between them, scrunching his nose cutely as he tries not to get in the fray of their fry-war. 

Your phone pings, and you laugh at what pops up on the screen.

Yoongi: come inside, u loser. 

You: can’t ur friend group makes me nervous stop being so dang cute

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

Instead of replying, Yoongi puts his phone down and resumes eating. In turn you pick a playlist, deciding that “summer time high mix✨✨✨” is a theme you need to subscribe to for the rest of the weekend. 

Busying yourself by sending some texts to Namjoon and checking some emails, you relax in your seat as you let your brain turn to sludge for the weekend. You’re tired, eyes glazing over as you watch Yoongi elbow Jungkook harshly, forcing him to look out the foggy window. 

Jungkook’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas Eve, but instead of Christmas lights it's your car’s lowlights. The graphic designer  pays no mind to his friends as they wish him goodbye and goodluck, throwing on his jacket with a wave. 

The night air whizzes by, Jungkook’s floppy black strands bouncing with each step as he bounds to your car. He throws your door open, bringing in the cold air as he regards you as easily as an old friend would. 

“Hi,” he chirps, placing his tattooed palms by the air vent, “c’mon, let’s order.” 

“You know, you could’ve ordered inside and brought it in here.” 

“Yeah but then it would take longer to get to you,” the cheeky grin that Jungkook throws at you is unmistakable, “c’mon, get out the car and let’s switch.” 

“Huh?” 

“You look tired, you didn’t come back from the office again, did you?” 

“I did tonight,” you say, “I just really wanted to get the soft copy of the article done and—” 

“Out, out!” Jungkook clicks your seatbelt off and he’s coming out of the passenger side, opening your car and pulling you out by the hand, “c’mon, I’ll drive.” 

You shake your head, hiding your smile in your hand as you let Jungkook do what he wants. Normally you’d be insulted that anyone suggests they should drive your car but Jungkook would always drive you around, saying he loved long rides. Above all, if you could trust anyone to drive your car, Jungkook is at the top of the list. 

Buckling in, you bite the inside of your cheek as Jungkook easily pulls out of the parking spot one-handed. His jacket is pulled up to his elbows, exposing his veins as he expertly whirls the wheel in the direction of the drive-thru. Since college he’s always looked very attractive driving.  

Doesn’t mean you have to act like you’re still in college. You tamp those feelings down, knowing that your article probably has you feeling stuck in time. 

“—coming along?” 

“Wha?” 

“I said, how’s the spread coming along?” 

“It’s pretty much done, I think. I’ll send you the hard copy when it’s ready,” you tap your fingers against the dashboard, “but are you sure you’re okay with me writing it? I know I’m using a pseudonym and everything for you two but I still feel weird—” 

“It’s fine, I think it’s a good thing,” and you still squirm in your seat when he flashes you a genuine smile, “I mean, it kinda is a funny story and I think it’s good for both of us. Like closure, y’know? Moving on and—hi, can I get two Oreo McFlurrys and a large fry? Thanks!” he pulls out his wallet to scan the total on the e-reader.  “I mean, didn’t it feel good writing it?”

“Yeah,” you replied honestly, relaxing in your seat, “like, college was fun and all, but when Jisoo kinda ruined all that… after awhile I didn’t think it was ruined after all, y’know? I still made amazing friends and ended up where I wanted to be. I want to show the readers that shit happens, and that’s okay. And if things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

The summer playlist hums in the background as Jungkook pulls up to the pick-up window. He thanks the worker and hands you the tray, and you make quick work to put the fries in the first cup holder for optimal sharing. He doesn’t park at McDonalds, but instead smoothly pulls out of the restaurant into the direction of his apartment. It isn’t a particularly long drive, but you figure it would be easier for Jungkook to go home first if you’re already parked at his complex. 

“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook parks in the driveway of his apartment, taking his McFlurry from your hands. 

“Mean by what?” 

“If things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

“Well, we’re here now, right?” 

Jungkook pops his spoon in, swallowing vanilla and a silly smile through his coral pink lips, “We’re here now,” he repeats. 

The night air is cool and your conversation is warm. You promise Jungkook that you’ll send him the final copy of your spread as soon as it’s done, and you two eagerly deviate away from the past and focus on the present. 

You can’t help the eagerness that flows between you, as if you’ve never spent time apart like this and it’s only now that you’re reuniting. It must be absence that makes the heart grow fonder, because you swell with affection and you find Jungkook’s presence sweeter than any kind of ice cream. 

Are you dating now? Maybe. You and Jungkook are going on dates, everything without the title. McFlurry runs, marathons of HGTV’s Design on a Dime, having lunch at each other’s respective buildings with the Wusbands. Whether these dates are exclusive or not is unknown, but you figure the question will present yourself one way or another. 

You’re in a good place right now, potential relationship or not. After all, your priorities are simultaneously positive and in order: family, work, friends, and any potential romantic trysts are at the very bottom. You could kiss the cover of this month’s issue (and trust, you have kissed your own copy multiple times) if it is not for the fact that this specific issue is for Jungkook. 

So, romantic trysts and friends have a tendency to flip-flop on your priority list, but only because it’s Jungkook. 

Unsurprisingly, there’s no guilt knowing that you’re dating your former best friend's ex-boyfriend. 

After a much deserved early work day, Namjoon and the crew arrange a hearty happy-hour filled with good food and enough relaxation to last the weekend. With your combined successes, your team felt like they made the best issue yet. At the heart of it, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth became a reckoning of each other’s young life. Despite the love and the growth that occurred from your college years up until this point, you’re glad to close that chapter and move forward. 

You did not tell Jungkook when the issue would come out, so you think it’ll be a fun surprise for him when he sees it magically show up at his apartment. Bending down you move to slip the issue under his door, one hand pushing it under while one hand braces against the frame to steady your balance. 

Just as the shiny cover glides under the door it swings open, and you fall flat on Jungkook’s feet. 

Being the little shit he is, he simply giggles at the blunder, looking at you with excited eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says. 

“Creepy as hell, Jeon,” you mutter under your breath, brushing the dirt off your aqua pencil skirt. Looking at him from your spot on the floor and his large height, you grimace. “You look like a middle-aged serial killer looking outside your peephole.” 

“Now, we know that’s not true.” he finally offers his hand, easily pulling you up to your feet. You follow him into his kitchen, where he’s cutting up fresh fruit. He throws your issue on the counter, gentle enough so it doesn’t slide off the granite. He gestures to himself with both hands, “me, a dashingly handsome late twenty-something in Nike sweats who can bench-press two of you? Totally not a middle-aged serial killer.” 

“It’s in the eyes,” you chastise, “you look crazy.” 

“Maybe I’m just crazy excited to see you,” he says with a cheeky grin. 

You try your best not to choke on your spit at the cheeseball comment, throwing a blackberry in your mouth. Savoring the burst of tart flavor that fills your mouth, you wait for Jungkook to plate the fruit before meeting him on the couch. He’s holding a prettily arranged plate of berries, bananas, and mango with a huge dollop of whipped cream in the middle. In his other hand is Big Hit’s magazine. 

Throwing your blazer on the couch’s arm you don’t hesitate to cuddle up next to him, eagerly waiting for him to read your spread. 

The cover gazes back at the two of you like a reflection. The entirety of the staff is posed on the cover, made to look like a class photo. Some of you are holding balloons in your respective school colors, many of you grouping up with whoever happened to go to college together. You and Vernon are wearing matching university sweaters with silly grins on your faces. In the middle of the issue is the editor-in-chief, Victoria Song holding a placard that reads: Class of Youth. 

Jungkook spares you a glance from the corner of his eye, your head naturally tucked into his shoulder. With an exaggerated sigh, he fiddles through the glossy pages, “Hmm, which one should I read first?” 

“Of course you’ll read mine first,” you pout. 

“Ah, Namjoon’s looks really fun. Or Vernon’s? New York looks pretty cool,” he flips to a random page, “wait, Yerin’s spread is a Korean cookbook! I definitely want to make some tuna rice...”  

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.” 

“I don’t know,” he taps his finger on his lip, “I mean, I pretty much know your spread because I’m already in it. It would be kind of redundant to read it.” 

“Kook, you’re being mean,” you glower, rubbing your cheek against his soft sweater. He’s just so damn comfy. 

“I’m kidding,” he tugs at your cheek, “where’s the table of contents, first page?”

“I’m on page eighty-three.” 

You speed up the process like an impatient child, leaning over to brush the pages to the desired spread. You even dog-earred it, a habit that drives Jungkook crazy as he immediately fiddles to iron out the crease. 

“Are you gonna read it to me too, mom?” he teases. 

“Okay fine! I’ll be quiet, but don’t take too long.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Eyes fluttering, you let Jungkook take his time to absorb your piece. A roommate by any other (rude) name: the lost letter. A cheesy, gimmicky title that Victoria insisted upon that you had no choice but relent to. The rest of the spread thankfully has a very authentic edge to it, your story laced with photos of you and Jungkook, your internship with Vernon, and most importantly, a scan of the lavender letter that got left in the past. 

Jungkook’s not silent through his read-through, either. He laughs at all the right parts, fueling your ego as his smile grows at your favorite lines. While he doesn’t directly engage in conversation, his positive energy is enough for you to make you feel like you’ve done your job right. It’s one thing to write about unknown celebrities and unnamed artists, but for people like Jungkook, the validation is personal. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook says when he’s read it thrice through, running his thumb over a picture of you. “Really organic. Really, real.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he chuckles, having run out of adverbs. “It’s funny, too. I liked your little internal monologue. I wish I knew how you felt back then.” 

“I wish you did, too.” 

You’re quietly munching on a strawberry, looking over a polaroid Jungkook took. It was  sometime in the beginning of senior year, where you’ve fallen asleep on his mattress, drool drying on your mouth. Normally you’d be opposed to having such unflattering, grainy pictures amongst your writing, but it encapsulates the youth you’ve tried so hard to chase away. 

“How do you feel?” Jungkook says, switching out the magazine for the plate of fruit, placing it on his side. 

“Feel great, actually,” you muse, smiling to yourself. By no means are you a hero writing some grand gesture in an entertainment magazine, but you feel like you’ve saved yourself. You’ve savored your youth in four thousand words, cutting out the poison and keeping the moment as sweet as it can be. 

“I’m proud of you,” he reaches to ruffle your hair, and you don’t even get mad when it tousles out of your pinned style. 

Reveling in the attention, you simply close your eyes and feed yourself a handful of blueberries. 

“Love that I make money, but I definitely miss college from time to time,” Jungkook stretches, jostling you out of your comfortable position. “Like I remember Taehyung and I would take turns bringing backpacks to the dining hall so we could stuff fruit in it for later.”

“Yeah, but as much as I loved college I wouldn’t go back,” you nod to yourself, “I’m happy where I am now.” 

“What about when we stayed up for midnight breakfast? The dining hall was filled to the brim with food. Remember when I tried to eat a whole stack of pancakes?” 

“Jungkook…” 

“Or when our classes got cancelled and we went to Lotte World? You ate way too much funnel cake and I had to carry you to the car!” 

“Jungkook—” 

“And that one time we snuck out to the music hall’s rooftop?” words gush out of Jungkook’s mouth like a waterfall, unable to relent, “that’s when I realized I liked you. I liked you so much, I tried to tell you that night but choked—”

“Jungkook!” and he immediately zips up, frowning. You straighten up, on your knees as you reach over to run your hands through his onyx tresses, moving the styled strands to the back of his pierced ears, “Jungkook,” you repeat softly, “I’ve heard all these stories, I was there for most of them. As much as I love the past… can we talk about something else?” you give him a small, tentative smile to show him you’re not mad, but a little uncomfortable at his reminiscing. 

He leans into your touch, pressing your palm against the soft swell of his warm cheek. “Okay,” he agrees, resting one hand on your thigh. 

You’re roped in his gaze, and you have to force yourself to breathe when Jungkook moves closer to you. He hooks a leg behind his back, and another across his lap. A cool breeze kisses your inner thighs when your skirt exposes your cotton underwear. You should be embarrassed but instead you’re fixated, unable to understand what he’s trying to accomplish. 

“Then I’m gonna talk about the future,” Jungkook traps you between the couch, his thumb running hot circles to where your skirt has hiked up. It exposes a slip of the thigh that Jungkook has seen a million times. He’s seen you walking around your apartment in a large shirt, ridden up to your boyshorts. It’s different now, you feel exposed and tingly, thrumming with excitement. “I like you, obviously anticipated news and old news. I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to go on dates with you, re-watch Avatar, grumble when I force you to come to the gym with me,” he bumps noses with you when you scrunch yours, “I wanna be with you. Heck, I’ve even cleared space in my spare room so you’d have closet space for all your fancy designer suits if you ever need it.”

“You cleared space?” you manage to choke out. Visions of a shared apartment roll through your brain. Cooking meals together, having two toothbrushes side by side, and waking up to his face. 

“Of course I did. Do you know how financially attractive you are?” he says lightheartedly, “you’re a sexy working woman and it’s crazy to imagine you’d want to settle for me and my little apartment. But I have to try now because if I don’t, it’ll be too late.” 

“That’s not true,” you retort, “you’re not someone I’d settle for. I want you, and no one else.” 

He chuckles, running a thumb over your cheek. “Then what are we waiting for? Your key’s hiding under the mat.” 

“Jungkook…” on the tip of your tongue lays the words you’re going too fast but it doesn’t make its way to the air. 

“But do you really think it’s too fast?” he reads your face clearly, “these feelings never went anywhere. They were locked away, sure. And I loved her,” he can’t even say the name, not when you’re warm and flush against him, “but I loved our friendship more.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you breathe, letting the cogs in your brain roll until sparks develop. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he concedes, “I just wanted to let you know. Could’ve done the letter thing all over again and let the past repeat itself. I know Namjoon wouldn’t hide a love letter for two years, but if I left another damn letter he’d definitely make a copy and tease me about it.” 

You snort, pressing your forehead to his. You’re practically buried in the couch now, tingly and vibrating with happiness. “And I’m not going to leave you hanging. I do want to say something,” and he looks at you expectantly, licking the leftover berry juice on his lips, nearly making you miss your train of thought, “I like you too,” you say, the other L-word is also applicable, but you feel like that phrase is reserved for another time, “I want to show you off on work vacations, bring you along as my date and show them you’re my muse,” you confess, “I wanna play video games with you ‘till 2AM, and eat ice cream in the comfort of our apartment instead of our cars because we’re too stubborn to admit we don’t wanna go home without each other.” 

Jungkook absolutely preens at the affection, sending you a heart melting smile that has your stomach doing backflips.

“Jungkook, I want to fall in love with you again.” 

Your squeal of surprise is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips, tasting of mangoes and berries as strong hands cup your backside, easily lifting you onto his lap. You plop under his strong thighs, feeling them flex against yours. The both of you are pouring in this kiss, raining with promises and hopes for a future with each other. His taste is concentrated, and you can feel the devotion practically injected in his embrace. 

When he pulls away his lips are cherry-red and shiny, looking up at you through clear coffee eyes. “This isn’t a dream, right?” he looks at you up and down, unable to decipher fact from fiction, “because I distinctly remember two wet dreams that involve you looking like this.” 

Looking down, you heat at the disarray you’re in. Hair wild and parted in different wavelengths, tired of the day’s efforts. Your slightly sheer dress-shirt is rumpled, the lace collar opened with two popped buttons revealing your cleavage, and your skirt is stretched so tight that it’s ruched all the way up your thighs. Sprawled across Jungkook’s lap, you’re dangerously close to something long and hard. 

Emboldened, you clutch at Jungkook’s collar, pulling him closer. 

“Show me what happens in your dream,” you whisper into his ear, barely brushing your clothed core against his crotch, “maybe we can make it come true tonight.” 

You can’t see his face, but you feel something dark and sensual overtake him. The grip on your ass tightens, a delicious pain that has you pressing your breasts against him and nipping on his ear, your tongue darting sensually through the cold silver hoops that dart through his skin. 

Within seconds, he rips you away from his neck and demands, “Open.” 

Dazed, you barely get a centimeter of your mouth open when Jungkook presses something cold and sugary against your lips. Whipped cream. You manage to take a small bite of the tart strawberry that he holds by the viridian stem, rolling the flavor between your mouth as Jungkook paints the leftover whipped cream over your lips. Once he’s satisfied he then creates a white trail that leads to your cleavage. 

Better than any dream, his eyes drink you in like the last glass of water in a desert. Your lips are swollen and parted like a baby kitten, covered in the creamy confection. “So pretty,” he exhales, his hot tongue licking from your cleavage to your lips, swallowing the flavor of you and strawberry juice, “such a pretty girl you are, and all mine.” 

“Yours,” you submit easily, rolling your hips against his. 

At that moment you think you’re meant to fall in love this way. You can’t imagine the shy, fumbly Jungkook and your equally confused self waltzing around a relationship when you barely had your lives together. The two of you still had growing to do. The wait is certainly worth it, because as you feel his arms tighten around you, you’re sure this love will stay strong.

It’s difficult for you to find a rhythm at first, what with Jungkook’s strength and need to be satiated, both of you are sloppy but the friction is nothing less than delicious. Your finger reaches over to swipe at the leftover cream on the plate, and you press your finger to Jungkook’s mouth, and he immediately complies. A dollop of sweet cream leaks out of his lips and your panties dampen further when you feel his tongue lick you clean, imagaining how good it would feel if it was your pussy he was licking. 

Your mouth waters at the feeling of his dick lining up against your core, as sticky as the strawberry juice that clings to your bodies. 

“C-can I make a confession? I—oh, Jungkook…” your mind is all fuzzed up when he snaps his hips against yours, causing you to shamelessly bounce on his length. 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I like it when you use all your strength like that,” his hips slow as your words sink in, but you don’t mind as it gives you time to make a long drag along the entirety of his member. “Everytime you pull me up when I trip, or you come back from a workout, I like it when you carry me around like I weigh nothing.” 

“Do—do you think about it a lot?” he grunts, and you stifle a moan when he does a slow, hard drag against your wet folds. “Tell the truth.” 

“It’s, it’s embarrassing,” you whimper, unable to think straight with the amount of stimuli you’re receiving.  

“Please, baby.” 

“Yes mm—oh! I do,” you try to get the words out as quickly as you can. He stops moving, and you groan in frustration so you just lay it all out on the table. “I, I love it when you hold me in your strong arms. And, ah, uh w-henever you come back from the gym you just look so sexy fresh from the shower. Sometimes I think about how you’re too damn nice for your own good but I bet you’d be so rough in bed.” 

“Really?” and then he’s shoving you onto the couch, air brushing against your bare thighs as your back hits the beige throw pillows. He’s hovering, dark eyes starting from the tip of your toes to your damp lips. “You like it when I manhandle you? Throw you around like a little doll?” 

“All that strength, and for what?” you try to keep your snappy remarks in check, but it’s hard when he’s pressing his straining dick against your thigh, weeping and needy. 

“You’re not gonna be joking about my strength anytime soon, baby,” emblazoned, he easily throws your leg over his shoulder, pushing your panties to the side to let your wetness leak out and onto his fingers, “are you gonna complain or be a good girl?” 

“Yes, I’m ah—” you wince when he inserts a finger, “I’ll be good for you,” 

“My good girl,” he revels in the way you melt under his touch, your previous sarcasm quickly dissolving into a puddle. You always had an inkling that Jungkook would be a sneaky fox in bed, all that muscle hidden behind a kind smile and a penchant for tea with milk and honey. 

Jungkook slips in another finger, stretching you and preparing you for what’s to come. He’s scissoring you at a sensible pace that has you squirming and wanting more. To prevent you from shimmying off the couch he holds you down with his free hand, and you love the way he practically feeds you to the couch, hands dancing over your neck as he shoves you further into the furniture. 

“You look so gorgeous,” he says, causing you to moan and keen at his attention, “you’re such a strong, gorgeous woman. Having you sprawled out like this, ready to do whatever I want to you is so fucking hot.” 

“I’m—I’m only weak for you Jungkook,” you say honestly, tears pricking when he dips another finger. The stretch burns deliciously, and your folds eagerly swallow him up until you’re filled to the brim. Your fingers or toys cannot compare to flesh, and you sigh in relief when you see his inked fingers pick up the pace once more. 

“You’re damn right,” Jungkook husks, and with a grain of love he murmurs in your ear, “I’m only weak for you, too.” 

And that’s when he snaps, thumb rolling against your bud as he slams his other fingers against you, going at a brutal pace. You cry out, not caring whether his neighbors hear as he pulls you back and forth through pleasure and pain. 

“T-too much, Kookie,” you mewl, your hand warbling to find his, “I, ah, ‘m gonna cum!” 

“That’s the plan,” he only goes faster, stretching your band further and further before your desired high is reached. His hand trails up to force your chin straight, looking up at him, “let go for me, baby. Wanna feel your pussy clench around my fingers.” 

In seconds, you gush. It has you in a slight panic, drunk on endorphins as you try to lift your head up but Jungkook’s hand is firmly pressing you on your shoulder as he fingers you efficiently through your high, the wet squelching sounds only increasing with your cries. His lap is drenched in your arousal, along with his chin and lips glistening with your essence. 

He finally releases you when you’re practically shaking, his hands sticky and creamy. You moan when he shamelessly licks them within your view, making sure to wrap his tongue around his ink-stained digits. 

“I,” your mouth is dry when you feel the dampness that hits your bottom, “I’ve never, I don’t remember ever—” 

Your babbles are lost between your throat and Jungkook’s tongue, shoved deep into your mouth. Tasting your arousal has you practically vibrating in your place, as you two rut against each other like hungry bunnies. 

“God, you’re amazing,” he says between pecks, kissing away your face of any tears you may have pricked, “Amazing, adorable, absolutely beautifulIadoreyousoso—” 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you press your hips up, wiggling for more attention, “please fuck me, Jungkook.” 

You can’t help the witchy, satisfied smile when Jungkook’s eyes darken to a thick coal, “Anything for you,” he murmurs, swinging your legs between his arms as he lifts you like a feather. 

On his lap again, you soon accept that the way you two mesh like puzzle pieces is one of your favorite positions as it gives you both equal space to ravish each other. 

Just when your hand trails to the waistband of his boxer briefs and you’re rolling your thumb over its collected moisture, the moment is shattered when the doorbell rings. You jump in his arms, unprepared for your moment to be interrupted. 

He groans into the crown of your hair, and you soften in his relaxed hold, “I ordered us pizza,” he nearly forgot. 

Perking your head up to look at him you regard him innocently, as if you didn’t release a waterfall on his sweats two seconds ago. “You got us pizza?” 

“I knew you’d be coming over tonight,” he’s pouting into your neck, regretting ever having called the pizza guy if he knew this would happen, “Victoria posted the publish date on Twitter. I just didn’t think,” he gestures vaguely to the mess on his pants, “this would happen.”  

“Damn, and here I thought I was being sneaky,” you chuckle, flicking his ear playfully. 

He gives you an uncharacteristically subby whine, shamelessly upset he has to let you go so fast after he’s given you your first of many highs. Before he weakens further under your beauty, he unceremoniously shoves you off. “Sorry, pretty girl,” you melt at the easy way his pet name rolls off his lips, “can you wait in my room for a bit so I can pay the delivery guy? I don’t want them to see you like this.” 

“But I want to eat pizza,” you declare stubbornly, standing up to button your blouse and pull down your skirt. 

Before you could fasten one button or pull down one centimeter, his hand darts out to snatch your wrist away from your body. It doesn’t hurt much, but it causes your body to heat in more places than one. He’s sexy like this, demanding your attention. “No,” he rumbles definitively, “my room. Now.” 

“Why?” you throw your hands in the air, yelping when he slaps your ass. He makes sure to make it sting, cupping you fully. 

“Because,” he says firmly, “you don’t get to eat until I eat,” you whimper when his hand reaches to cup your sex, panties wet and cold without his warmth as he pushes you in the direction of his bedroom. 

Oh, you can’t wait for both of you to eat tonight. 

some time later.

“Ohmygod the view is beautiful!” Krystal, who works in advertisement, squeals. “No filter needed!” 

“Alright alright, make room Princess,” Namjoon teases. With a bump to Krystal’s tiny hips Namjoon shoves you two across the pavilion, putting his arm around you once he finds the perfect angle, “Umji, can you get a pic of me and my Work Wife? I want this on the Big Hit Instagram!” 

You hold your straw sunhat down from the salty wind, smiling beautifully as Umji takes multiple pictures of you and Namjoon from her Nikon. Another successful year under your notch, ending with a successful work retreat. 

“Namjoon, can I take a picture with my actual wife now?” 

“We’re not married, Jungkook,” you chastise, patting the chest of Namjoon’s floral printed Hawaiian shirt so he can switch. Instantly, Jungkook slides up next to you like a picture perfect stock model piece, and you wrap your arms around his trim waist, “we’re not even engaged.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he pouts, looking over the pavilion and adjusting the both of you so there’s a good amount of you and the resort in the background. The sun may be scathingly hot, but it looks beautiful perched over the crystal clear waters. “Namjoon, you got it easy,” Jungkook says when he hands him your phone, “every angle is our good angle, so you can’t mess it up.” 

Being the honest man he is, Namjoon knows better and doesn’t say anything to that. Instead he shoots down whatever pineapple-flavored concoction is offered to him on a silver platter, and starts shooting. 

“Is this swimsuit new?” Jungkook murmurs into your ear between shots, flicking your little red number by the strap connecting the back, “because I didn’t see this in the luggage.” 

You smile big, pearly whites as Namjoon demands to pop out your butt and work it, pressing your body closer to Jungkook’s. “Tiny enough so I could hide it in my purse,” you reply proudly, voice low for only each other’s ears, “why, surprised?” 

“Definitely not prepared,” his fingers dig deliciously in your bare flesh, “would Victoria fire you if she catches us doing it in the cabana?” 

Amused that your boyfriend now shares your combined awe and fear of your boss, you twist his nipple lightly. He yelps, and from Namjoon’s guaff he’s definitely got that on camera. “We didn’t come to Boracay to fuck in the cabana.” 

“Then the hotel room?” 

Namjoon hands you back your phone when he considers his job done, letting you and Jungkook have some alone time. You wave your phone in his face, trying to get him to focus on the task at hand. You wanted to post some cute pictures of you and your boyfriend, one to impress the family back home and the Big Hit interns back in Seoul who are absolutely pining for your position. 

“Jungkook, they have the water ski thing where you can flip in the water mid air! Doesn’t that sound fun? Or we can go scuba diving, have Filipino food, or get massages. LIterally, we’re on Big Hit’s dime, and the first thing you want to do is go back to the room?” 

“Yes,” he pouts petulantly, leaning into the hollow of your ear and whispering, “got a chub on.” 

Discreetly so, your hands brush against his navy trunks and you note yes, he’s half hard. “No!” you shake your head definitively, pushing him out of your arms. You’re not letting sex get in the way of your hard-earned vacation, you’re on company dime and you intend to milk every peso of it. “Namjoon, take him away!” 

You blow him a kiss and follow another group who’s decided to go eat, watching your boyfriend get dragged away by Namjoon’s long arms. Krystal, who’s been mildly watching the whole ordeal in-between taking selfies, looks at you in awe, “You got it good, bosslady,” she says, and you happily link arms with her in the direction of the restaurants. 

You and Jungkook definitely have it good. You don’t see him until dinnertime, looking utterly relaxed as he sips on a mango-muddled concoction. He must’ve gotten a couples massage with Namjoon, cute. Splitting up was definitely a good idea, by the time your meal arrives the two of you are practically leaning against each other, telling each other what events you need to do tomorrow and events you think will be fun to do together. 

“Joon,” Jungkook is throwing an arm over your Wusband’s shoulder, mildly tipsy. The image is adorable, as Jungkook long ago previously confessed that he felt a little jealous of Namjoon’s work relationship with you before you were dating. Now, it feels like they’re best friends and you’re third-wheeling. “What do you think about having halo-halo tomorrow? It’s like bingsu but with a bunch of other good stuffs. There’s red bean, mango, ube, ice cream…” 

Just as Jungkook begins his tirade of dessert ingredients, you pull up your phone to check on your social media. You smile back at your profile, seeing your latest Instagram post at the very top of the feed. Not to flex, but the two of you look pretty smokin’ since you’ve been keeping up with Jungkook’s insistence to join him at the gym. Jungkook and you are leaning against the pristine veranda, overlooking the clear blue water and a cloudless sky. The smiles you two sport are genuine and utterly in love. 

You scroll down the comments, most of them filled with sweet messages but one of them has you doing a double take. 

@sooyaaa__: 😒😒😒 knew something was goin on behind my back… good riddance

The smell of Jungkook’s detergent overtakes your nostrils, and you turn to him. He’s stopped talking, now immersed in whatever’s going on in your phone. 

“The nerve of her,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, disgusted at her latest comment. “As if anyone would believe her.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, “I feel bad for her, though. She’s probably lonely.” 

“Her loss, she put this upon herself. Not us.” 

You pout, “I know, but she was my friend at one point.” 

He frowns, putting an arm behind your backrest. It would be easy for him to say yeah, and she was my girlfriend and one-up you, leaving it at that. But now he knows better, and that friendship is a much better value than an ill-fated relationship. “Sorry baby,” it’s not his fault, but he sees your disappointment in putting out hope for an old friend. He gives you a little smooch on your temple, “do you miss her?” 

“The old her, yeah,” you sigh, clicking on her profile, “but now? I can do without her negativity.” 

“Okay,” he takes your phone from your hand, “have you ever blocked a person before?”

“No.”

“Well, today’s the day,” he says it so coolly, you barely have time to think when he clicks the ‘block’ button on Jisoo’s profile, then clicking off his phone to put in his pocket. “No more phone for today,” he proceeds to take your plate that was recently served, taking the time to cut your large vegetables into smaller portions. “Like you said, we shouldn’t waste your vacation time.” 

Your heart swells with butterflies for Jeon Jungkook, who’s meticulously cutting your food and telling you to relax and stop dwelling on the past. He’s right, if Jisoo’s not going to stick around for the future and continue to cause negativity in your life, why not keep the positives in the past while it lasted? 

“You know I love you, right?” 

He ceases cutting, and looks at you to pop a sweet potato in his mouth. “Love me enough to do it in the cabana?” 

He’s still on that? “Jungkook,” you warn, pretending to get up, “forget I said anything. I’m gonna go karaoke with Umji.” 

“Kiddingggg,” he whines, pulling you back down with an outstretched hand, “you know I love you too.” 

“You’re terrible.” 

“Only this way because I’d know you’d totally be into cabana sex if we were vacationing by ourselves.” 

“Yes, but you’re still terrible,” you giggle when Jungkook steals a kiss, just as easy as he’s stolen your heart.  

[letsyesnomaybe]

Never Gonna Wanna Let Me Go | Part 4

Zayn Malik is one of the highest paid escorts in London. He’s good at his job, he knows this. But it’s not his chosen field, it’s easy money so he can have a chance to pursue his chosen field without becoming homeless. His employer Caroline has many rules to keep him safe but Zayn only has one‘Don’t Get Attached’. Of course, there was always going to be one, the guy who would come in to the picture and make Zayn’s easy job almost impossible.

Liam Payne. Twenty Six. Made his money by inheriting his father’s music business after he passed away. Quite well known so expect publicity. Wants a pretty face on his arm to cover the events he has to attend while in town on business. Make sure he knows if he wants extra he has to pay. You’ve got your usual expenses on your card, don’t go overboard like last time. I mean it, Malik! Your share for the weekend will go in your account on Monday when you’ve done your job.

Love you babes, stay safe, C x

Part 1, 2 & 3  (also on ao3) 

The suns barely rising on the next day when Zayn wakes up. He doesn’t know why he’s awake because he usually sleeps until the sun’s either disappeared again or at least made it’s appearance for a while. 

“Morning.” Liam grumbles when Zayn blinks open his eyes. 

Their faces are so close together that Zayn feels like he’s going cross eyed trying to look in Liam’s. 

“Morning.” He echoes and grins when he moves and Liam’s morning wood rubs against his thigh. 

“I’m far too tired to do anything about it.” Liam decides. 

“I could do something about it?” Zayn suggest, letting his hand move from where it’s curled up to Liam’s chest to beneath the covers. 

He barely gets a hand around him before Liam moves, jolting forward to capture Zayn’s lips in the first kiss of the morning. 

“Are you clean?” Liam asks after the kiss had got sloppy and they were both grinding against each other to get some kind of friction. 

“I get tested before every client.” Zayn answers. 

“I got tested last month,” Liam tells him. “Do you trust me?” 

“I--” He pauses because he knows it’s one of Lin’s biggest rules ‘Always use protection’ she’d even underlined it three times and almost broke the pen when she’d added the full stop. “Yeah, yeah I do.” 

Liam smiles and leans back to kiss him again and he slides his hand down the length of Zayn’s body before push him to roll over. 

The prep is slow and drawn out like Liam’s loving the way it makes Zayn squirm with want. When they finally fuck, it’s at the same pace. It’s morning sex that Zayn’s never experienced because he’s never been with someone who was soft with him (almost loving) and knows exactly what he wants.

It’s not until he’s in the bath and admiring Liam singing to himself while he’s showering that he realises how completely fucked he is. He runs the pad of his fingers across his smiling lips, only to have them widen. He takes them back and sinks under the water, thinking if he drowns himself then he won’t have to deal with the inevitable heartache that will come when he parts from Liam tomorrow. 

“Zayn?” Liam calls, voice muffled by the water. 

Zayn sits up quickly, coughing on the water that travels up his nose and attempting to wipe the bubbles off his face. 

“Everything okay?” Liam asks as he sits on the edge of the bath. 

“Washing my hair.” Zayn lies. 

Liam nods, even though his face shows he clearly sees straight through Zayn’s lie. 

“So, what have we got planned for today?” Zayn asks. 

“I’ve got meetings until the afternoon,” Liam replies and reaches out to wipe a bubble from Zayn’s eyebrow. “The car will take you wherever you want to go but come back by at least one.” 

“That’s six hours.” Zayn points out because . “What did you wake me up for I could have slept until then?” 

“I think you’ll find you woke me up.” Liam defends with a lovely grin. 

“I could offer an alternative to those meetings?” Zayn suggest, fiddling with the knot in Liam’s towel. 

“As lovely as that offer is,” Liam says and the way he looks at Zayn makes him shiver. “And it is a lovely offer. I really can’t miss these meetings.” 

“I’m too knackered to do anything.” Zayn complains. 

“Then go back to bed.” Liam says amused. 

“I can’t,” Zayn huffs. “You’ve woken me up now.” 

“You’ve very dramatic this morning.” Liam observes and runs his fingers through Zayn’s wet hair. 

“We were up earlier than the sun,” Zayn points out. “It’s okay to be dramatic before the sun has woken up.” 

“I didn’t know that was the rule.” Liam admits. 

“Well now you do,” Zayn tells him. “It should be illegal to get up before the sun, Liam. It’s the whole reason it exists.” 

Liam smiles and shakes his head like Zayn’s the most absurd person he’s ever met before getting up from the bath and leaving the room. 

Zayn soaks in the bath a little longer and when he finally gets out, it’s to find that Liam’s already dressed ready for work. 

“What you doing?” He asks when his eyes catch Zayn leaning on the bathroom door. 

“Admiring the view.” Zayn says and lets the ‘while I still can’ echo in his mind. 

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” Liam replies as he comes over to where Zayn is stood, holding out his phone. “Put your number in?” 

Zayn takes the phone and puts in his number without asking why. Another one of Caroline’s rules broken, as easy as that. 

“Now if you’re not here when I get back I won’t have to interrogate my driver to find out where you are.” Liam explains as Zayn hands him back the phone. 

“Or you think I’ll send you dirty pictures while you’re in meetings.” Zayn jokes. 

“A man can only hope.” Liam replies with a cheeky smile. 

Zayn brushes past him to get to where his suitcase is laid out, simply to stop himself from pinching Liam’s cheek. 

“Where are you gonna go?” Liam asks as he picks up his watch to put on his wrist. 

“Probably go and bug Harry at work.” Zayn replies noncommittal as he rummages through his suitcase for clean underwear. 

“I’ll try not to be long, okay?” He offers as he comes over to where Zayn is now attempting to wriggle in to a pair of fresh boxers. 

“Be as long as you want,” Zayn tells him. “I get the leftover muffins if I stay at the cafe until after the lunch break.” 

“I won’t be that long.” Liam promises and leans in to brush his lips over Zayn’s cheek. 

It’s not for show because they’re the only people in the room. It’s not natural either because Liam freezes where he’s about to pull away, when Zayn doesn’t say anything. 

“Yeah, um, I’ll see you later.” Zayn offers dumbly. 

Liam hums and finally moves away from him to pick up his wallet and phone from the bed side table. 

“I’ll see you in a few hours, Zayn.” Liam says as he heads for the door. 

“I’ll be here waiting for you, Liam.” Zayn replies as he had that first morning. 

Liam doesn’t freeze up this time, instead he shoots Zayn a wink before disappearing out of the room. 

Zayn falls on to the bed and screams in to the mattress, wondering what hell kind of mess he’s got himself in to. 

***

‘This meeting is sooo boring that someone actually fell asleep lol x’ 

Zayn snorts at the photo of a man who’s clearly sat opposite Liam in some kind of board meeting and is fast asleep, his head resting down on his chest and eyes closed. 

“Are you sexting?” Emily asks, attempting to look at Zayn’s phone over his shoulder. 

There’s a mixture of weird and wonderful people who work at the cafe with Harry. But Emily has to be one of Zayn’s favourite. The best way to explain her is as a cat in human form. She’s sarcastic, hates most people but adores the ones she likes and can disappear for days at a time without a word. She’s also got the worlds best hair, it’s dark purple on top and the shaved sides are dyed green. 

“Is it a new part of the service?” Emily pushes, dodging back and forth as Zayn attempts to hide his phone from her. “You sext them to make sure they get their moneys worth even when they’re not with you.” 

“You’re a foul human being.” Jodie says from where she’s cleaning the cutlery from the breakfast run. She’s their little book worm, from her dark brown hair (that’s always tied back in a plait) to her thick framed glasses. 

“It could be true for all you know,” Emily argues. “Then Zayn’s the foul one.” 

Zayn tugs his arm back when Emily goes for the phone and promptly knocks the tub full of sugars off the counter he’s sat on. 

“What’s going on?” Harry demands, poking his head in from the back. 

“Zayn’s bored so he made a mess.” Emily tattles. 

“You can’t stay if you’re gonna be trouble, Z.” Harry says with a stressed sigh. 

“Sorry, man.” Zayn apologises as he picks up the sugars. 

Emily’s grinning when he stretches back up to put the pot back on the counter. 

“Bitch.” Zayn hisses at her. 

“Woof.” Emily replies with her wicked grin not moving. 

Zayn’s about to say something else but his phone buzzes in his hand so he backs away from the counter and drops in to the closest booth instead. 

‘What are you doinnn? x’

Zayn knows he’s supposed to text some bullshit like ‘Thinking of you’ or ‘Missing you’. Caroline once attempted for them to have a call service and he’d actually been pretty good. But he knows he’s only got one more day with Liam and he’s going to indulge a little. Even if it means he doesn’t get paid by Monday, it would be worth it. 

‘Bugging the people that work with H but it’s gettin kind of boring. Probs gonna join that bloke in the lad of nod if I stay here any longer x’ 

He only manages to lift his eyes up from the phone and see tower of sugars that Emily was now building, promptly fall, before the phone buzzes in his hand again. 

‘What else could you do to entertain yourself? x’  

Zayn grins as he texts back. ‘You x’ 

“I know that smile.” Harry says and Zayn hadn’t even realised he was back in the room. 

Zayn looks up to see him now stood next to Emily, with a frown creating wrinkles in his forehead. 

“You’re really a man who should smile,” Emily decides as she brushes her thumb across Harry’s forehead. “These age you a ton.” 

“You say the nicest things.” Harry scoffs while keeping his eyes trained on his best friend. “Are you smiling like that because of Liam?” 

“I’m not smiling like anything.” Zayn says as his phone buzzes in his hand and he has to bite down on his lip. 

‘I’ve got one more meeting but hopeee this keeps u goin xxx’

There’s a picture attached that Liam had clearly taken in a bathroom. He’s stood in front of a mirror, with the hand not holding the phone is pulling up his shirt while his dick hangs limp from where his trousers are unzipped like he’d moved away from the urinals in order to take the photo. 

“Fuck.” Zee complains out loud. 

This time Emily doesn’t give him chance, she snatches the phone from his hand before he can react. 

“Oh my.” She says followed by a squeal. “That’s quite a man, Malik.” 

“Give me my phone back.” Zee demands. 

Emily doesn’t, she hands the phone straight to Harry who looks down at it and then to Zayn with wide eyes. 

“It’s my job!” Zee defends. 

Harry stares at him for a really long time but eventually hands the phone back over with a shrug. 

“I’m just doing my job.” Zayn says again, as he looks back down at the phone. 

‘Sorry if that was too much...’ Liam had text back, obviously worrying when Zayn hadn’t sent the quick reply to his picture like he had been to his text for the rest of the day. 

“You dickhead,” Zayn scolds. “You proper fucked it.” 

“Don’t blame her,” Harry snaps back. “You’re the one breaking the rules, Z. What would Caroline say.” 

“She’d say I’m really fucking good at my job.” Zayn tells him and gets up from the booth. “Excuse me.” 

“The mirror on the right at the back is best for photos like that!” Emily shouts after him and then giggles manically when she throws him the finger. 

Zayn walks in to the gents bathroom and heads towards the mirror because Emily is a bitch but she does make good suggestions sometimes but before he even has chance to get himself situated for a photo, his phone blows up with Liam’s name. 

“Hey,” He answers quickly. “I was about to return the favour.” 

“W-what?” Liam asks confused. “I thought you were done with me, I thought I’d taken it to far--” 

“Liam, calm down.” Zayn soothes. “I was sat the middle of a bakery with Harry’s very intrusive staff, I needed a good excuse to get away and I needed to get away after that photo, fuck. How can you be that hot?” 

Liam lets out a long stressed breath. 

“I was honestly about to return the favour.” Zee assures him. 

“Where are you?” Liam asks him. 

“In the bathroom at H’s bakery,” Zee answers. “Why? Are you back?” 

“No,” Liam replies. “I’ll be another hour yet but I thought, uh, I’ve got like a fifteen minute break.” 

“Okay..” Zayn starts quietly. 

“Get in one of the stalls, yeah?” Liam suggests. “Warm yourself up, I’ll call you back  when I’ve found somewhere to go.” 

“Okay.” Zee agrees slowly because the thought of what they’re about to do turns him on, let alone the act itself. 

Liam’s mouth is absolutely filthy, is what he finds out five minutes later when he manages to make Zayn come using only words. 

“Still got ten minutes to spare,” Zayn pants, as he attempts to come down from his high. “Could do that twice more, if you like.” 

Liam lets out a lovely laugh. “If you can get some of those muffins, I’ll meet you back at the hotel for six.” 

“Sure.” Zayn agrees easily. 

“Goodbye, Zayn.” Liam says. 

“Yeah, bye.” Zayn replies and hangs up the phone. 

It takes him a few minutes to get his thoughts straight and then clean up the mess he’d made before finally returning to 

***

Harry hadn’t pushed him when he’d left the bakery just before closing, he’d handed over a bag full of fresh muffins, told him to be careful and sent him on his way. 

The girl on reception gives him curious eyes as he swings the bag back and forth as he waits in front of the lifts but he doesn’t care, he feels happy, for the first time in a long time and even though he knows he’s not following his best friends orders (or his bosses) he’s going to indulge himself for as long as he can. 

Liam’s not there when he gets in the hotel room so he puts the muffins in the fridge keep them fresh and moves towards the bathroom to also freshen himself up. 

It’s a little more than an hour for Liam to walk through the hotel room door and he looks very upset as he greets Zayn in the living area of the suite. 

“I need a cigarette.” He states simply and heads to the balcony. 

Zayn hovers because he couldn’t quite read from that one sentence if Liam wanted him to follow or not. 

Liam returns to the room, only a few minutes later, a strong smell of smoke following him in. 

“What do we have to do tonight?” Zayn wonders as he sits on the edge of the couch. 

Liam undoes the top few buttons on his shirt and starts on undoing the ones on his wrists before speaking. “What do you want to do tonight?” 

“I think you forgot you’re paying me, babe.” Zayn reminds him. 

“I am,” Liam agrees. “Do you smoke anything stronger than nicotine?” 

“I don’t usually on a job,” Zayn admits. “Not exactly a professional thing to do, can’t, like, it’ll halt the performance, if you know what I mean.” 

Liam barks a laugh and it brings a smile to Zayn’s lips because he’d looked so upset since the moment he’d entered the room and it made him feel a little proud that he could be the one to bring the younger lad back to himself, after what looked like to be a horrible day. 

“We could fuck first?” Zayn suggests. “Then smoke?” 

“That’s an amazing suggestion.” Liam agrees. 

Before Zayn can open his mouth to ask when they should get started, the younger lad stalks across the room to attach their lips. 

It’s an hour of fucking and cleaning off the aftermath before they find themselves on the balcony with Liam sat on the balcony wall (much to Zayn’s dismay) while Zayn sits on a chair opposite, his feet kicked up to rest beside Liam, as a tin of Liam’s ‘not nicotine’ sits in his lap. 

“Can I ask you something?” Liam asks, tracing the nail of his finger down Zayn’s calf, making him shiver. 

Zayn pauses where he’s focused on not overloading the spliff. “Same rules as before.” 

Liam nods in agreement. 

“Shoot.” Zayn tells him and returns his focus to making the spliff, in case it’s something he can’t handle. 

“If you had a way out of this,” Liam starts and he waits and Zayn know he’s not going to finish until he looks at him. 

He’s been here before. He’s acted too hard and had guys fall in love with him overnight. These guys are rich, willing to offer him the world and in return he wouldn’t have to do much, other than continue the act for the rest of his life. Which Zayn sometimes thinks is an easy price to pay for a comfortable life. But there’s something that always stops him, a part of his conscious that won’t let him agree. 

Zayn finally looks up at Liam and offers him an assured smile. 

“You wouldn’t take it,” Liam answers himself. “I could offer you all the money in the world and you wouldn’t take it.” 

Zayn shrugs and returns his attention to the task at hand. “I make my own way in this world, it’s unconventional, sure, but it’s mine.” 

“What would you do?” Liam asks, fingers now wrapped tightly around Zayn’s ankle. “If you won the lottery tomorrow, what would you do?” 

“Buy my mum and my sisters a house,” Zayn decides, without having to really think about it. “Get them off that shitty estate and to a nice area, give my little sister Safaa a better upbringing than I ever could have dreamed of.” 

Liam nods in understanding. “What about for yourself?” 

“Might buy a studio,” Zayn says with a shrug as he licks the end of the paper to seal it shut. “I wouldn’t need to sell my art if I was rich so would probably paint what I want, without worrying what other people think.” 

“Not caring what other people think, sounds good.” Liam decides 

Zayn hums and puts the spliff between his lips before lighting it. 

“What happens tomorrow?” Liam asks, as he watches him take the first drag. 

Zayn takes another two drags before holding the joint out to the younger lad. 

“I’m supposed to get on a plane to LA and forget about you?” Liam guesses, as he brings the join to his own lips. 

“You don’t have to forget about me,” Zayn assures him. “I’m still going to exist in the world.” 

“But after tomorrow, I won’t be paying you anymore so I won’t be able to see you anymore.” Liam points out. 

Zayn takes the joint back from him when he offers it and brings it to his lips without answering because he doesn’t know what to say, the thought of going back to his tiny flat with Harry tomorrow and never seeing this beautiful boy’s face again, makes his chest hurt. But admitting that would be breaking the only rule he holds for himself when it comes to this job and he can’t bring himself to do it. 

“If I cancel my flight tomorrow,” Liam starts, after they’d let a silence hang in the air for a few minutes. “Could I see you again?” 

“Without the contract?” Zayn asks. 

Liam nods his head, looking hopeful. 

“What we do?” Zayn wonders. 

“We could stay here?” Liam suggests. “Or we could go somewhere, I could take you somewhere, let me take you somewhere.” 

Zayn takes a few more drags before holding the joint out. “Where?” 

“My dad has a cabin in Scotland,” Liam tells him, ignoring the joint completely now. “Let’s go there?” 

“For how long?” Zayn asks, bringing the joint back to his lips. 

“However long we can.” Liam states. 

Zayn would like to blame the small weed he’d put in to his system for how easy it is for him to say ‘yes’ but he knows he would be lying because as he stares at those innocent brown eyes he convinces himself they could make this work, he convinces himself that there is a chance Liam had managed to return his feelings in three short days, he convinces himself that this won’t end how he and Louis had with pain and sorrow for him and seemingly the fairy-tale ending for the other party involved. 

When he says ‘yes’ he breaks the final rule and with that broken, there’s no turning back, even if he wanted to. 

[bowl-of-shortness]

Some irl things that happened with my dogs:

Me: *goes into kitchen during my lunch break to make some Mac and cheese*

Me: *looks down to see one of my dogs laying right smack in front of the stove making it nearly impossible for me to do anything*

Me: hey Maizie, sweets can you please move? I’m trying to make lunch

Maizie: *looks at me and doesn’t move*

Me: Maze, c’mon man I’m hungry.

Maizie: *still doesn’t move*

Me: pup I will pick your happy butt up and move you even though you’re like a hundred pounds, move please.

Maizie: *finally moves*

Me: thank youuu

——————————————————————————

Me: there’s dog fur literally everywhere jeez.

Me: gee I SURE DO WONDER WHERE THAT CAME FROM. *looks over at my two long furred dogs looking at me curiously.*

——————————————————————————-

Me: Kendz can you please move, I need to go into my room for class.

Kendzie: *whines at me*

Me: what?

Kendzie: *woofs*

Me: you want to be in my room with me? Alright pup.

Me: *opens my bedroom door*

Kendzie: *promptly flops to the floor making a loud thud.*

——————————————————————————

2 am

Dogs: *start barking for no reason*

Me: *begrudgingly gets up because it’s 2 in the morning.*

Me: SHH

Dogs: *whine at me*

Me holding one of their faces without my glasses on: I know, but some of us are sleeping so you gotta be quiet.

——————————————————————————

Kendzie: *wants my food and so lays her head on the couch while giving me the sad puppy eyes™️*

Me: wooowwwww, that’s just sad, but no ya goof I’m not giving you any. You don’t need this.

[leslieannefusco]

Star Wars Episode I The Phantom Menace The New Batman Superman Adventures

Batman, Wonder Woman and Green Lantern chase a time-traveling villain to the past, where they team up with the greatest heroes of the Old West.

The Justice League's adventures in time take them to a futuristic Gotham City, where they join forces with that era's Batman and his super team: The Justice League Unlimited.

When the evil Trade Federation plots to take over the peaceful planet of Naboo, Jedi warrior Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi embark on an amazing adventure to save the planet. With them on their journey is the young Queen Amidala, Gungan outcast Jar Jar Binks, and the powerful Captain Panaka, who will all travel to the faraway planets of Tatooine and Coruscant in a futile attempt to save their world from Darth Sidious, leader of the Trade Federation, and Darth Maul, the strongest Dark Lord of the Sith to ever wield a lightsaber.

The evil Trade Federation, led by Nute Gunray is planning to take over the peaceful world of Naboo. Jedi Knights Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi are sent to confront the leaders. But not everything goes to plan. The two Jedi escape, and along with their new Gungan friend, Jar Jar Binks head to Naboo to warn Queen Amidala, but droids have already started to capture Naboo and the Queen is not safe there. Eventually, they land on Tatooine, where they become friends with a young boy known as Anakin Skywalker. Qui-Gon is curious about the boy, and sees a bright future for him. The group must now find a way of getting to Coruscant and to finally solve this trade dispute, but there is someone else hiding in the shadows. Are the Sith really extinct? Is the Queen really who she says she is? And what’s so special about this young boy?

I’ve never experienced such delay in cartoons airing on TV as I have with the DC Animated shows. Ever since Superman: The Animated Series massive delays started it, it seems to have spilled over into every DC show since. Batman Beyond had it’s “Unmasked”, Justice League had it’s last half of Season 1 and almost all of Season 2 delayed for what seemed like forever, and now Justice League Unlimited it hitting every bump in the road: schedule changes, generic delays and problems with the episodes themselves, resulting in send-backs to the animation studios. “The Once and Future Thing” has been nearly every fans most anticipated story arc this season, and we’ve been waiting ever since June since the loglines were released. So was it worth the wait and agonizing speculation? Nothing ever is; fans over hype things to the point of exhaustion and by the time the episode airs everything’s been inadvertently spoiled via a careless lack of a spoiler warning. Nothing in this first part of “The Once and Future Thing” surprised me; things that would’ve excited me was the re-appearance of Jonah Hex (not seen since Batman: The Animated Series “Showdown”), Batman Beyond, Future Static and Warhawk’s appearance and the whole “Dad?!” line (I know I read somewhere that was going to happen). The Return of the Joker Jokerz gang did surprise me though, albeit if they are a bit changed (more on that later).

Where was I? “The Once and Future Thing” starts off with our first look at Future Gotham since Static Shock’s “Future Shock” crossover, bringing an already exciting mood to the episode (Batman Beyond is one of my all-time favorites, so I may be biased); we then meet the mastermind behind the episode, Chronos (“David Clinton” for those who are picky since “Chronos” was never directly named in the episode, aside from a quick throwaway comment on his suit). After a humorous scene with his verbally abusive wife, we’re thrown into present where he’s attempting to steal Batman’s utility belt from the Watchtower. The first odd thing in the episode occurs here: if an “intruder” alarm is sounded on the Watchtower, a supposedly impregnable fortress, wouldn’t more than just three heroes run to investigate? Batman, Green Lantern and Wonder Woman bolt right as the alarm sounds, while everyone else in the surrounding lunch room just sits and gabs away. I realize that’s probably an unavoidable hole due to only wanting Batman, Green Lantern and Wonder Woman to be the time travelers, but it’s still a bit odd, none the less. Before you sit down to watch this episode, you have to keep in mind that not all things are going to make sense; it’s time travel and that always manages to screw something up. We have mechanical Pterodactyls and Raptors with Cowboys riding on their back, robots dressed up as Old West Gun Slingers and a main villain who had a six-pistol gun. If you want to make sense of that…be my guest, but it’s really best just to sit and enjoy it as it plays out. Granted, you could justify everything that happened since Tobias just kept jumping into the future and hijacking this stuff back, but…dinosaurs? I don’t see the purpose for those, unless he wanted to scare people into doing his dirty work (ten foot robots and massive guns would do that for me anyway); regardless, they were fun to see, even if they were completely random. Heroes in the episode included El Diablo, Bat Lash, Sheriff Ohiyesa Smith and the aforementioned Jonah Hex. They were all great to see in animated form and I couldn’t help but laugh every time El Diablo talked, as his voice actor (Nestor Carbonell) played “Batmanuel” in the live-action The Tick! series (I think I’m one of few who loved that show). Jonah Hex was awesome to see again and Bat Lash was fun to watch as well.

The Wild West portions had their fare share of camp to them, but they were a fun little romp. Bruce refusing to carry a gun and then using his utility belt as a “Go on, I dare you” type move the cowboys used when reaching for their guns, Diana taking her time in deflecting the bullets (“These are the biggest, slowest bullets I’ve ever seen”) and John’s “Green Lantern” Ghost looked like something pulled from a Scooby Doo episode, were fun to watch. There were some nice character moments in this one, but honestly, I think we’re all just waiting for the second part. Speaking of the second part, we got a nice little teaser end to the episode. Landing in the future after chasing Chronos again, the League come up against the Return of the Joker Jokerz gang; descending immediately is the Future Static, Batman Beyond and Warhawk. Static appears much older than his “Future Shock” appearance and Batman seems to have lost the red on the interior of his wings, but Warhawk remains the same. The episode ends with the clinching “Dad?!” from Warhawk as he looks at Green Lantern, who then looks like he just saw Future Shayera in the shower. It was a great ending and created a session of out loud “I gotta wait a week to see the conclusion!?” cursing. Perhaps the most debated part of this ending was the reappearance of the Return of the Joker Jokerz gang; Bonk died on-screen (in both versions of the film, though one more graphic than the other) in the movie, while everyone else seemed to simply get taken away by the cops. One other thing to point out is Woof’s mechanical arms; definitely not on the original model and Chucko’s new look (different color shirt and is now carrying some sort of round object, similar to Ghoul’s pumpkin bucket), all suggest that the gang may be different. If they aren’t, I refuse to believe that one of the story writers of Return of the Joker and producers of Justice League Unlimited simply glazed over Bonk’s death or forgot; the gangs there for a reason that will have to wait for another week to find out. It’s sort of sad that all of the work that was put into the first twenty plus minutes of this episode are overshadowed by the ten second closer, but it’s to be expected. People have been hungry for more Batman Beyond and now that we’ve got him again, it’s gonna be hard to let go.

That was, bar-none, the most mind-twisting and blowing DCAU episode I’ve seen. It’s not that it was “crazy” or “kooky” or all together “spooky,” but trying to get everything straight with the Matrix code flying across the bat-computer screen and Bruce spouting off stuff about the “space time continuum”…just…ouchie. Confusing nature aside (and that will pass upon a few more viewings, I’m sure), this episode was pretty much what I expected it to be; not in plot points and twists, but just in that we’d get a fun romp through future Gotham City. I’ll be damned if it didn’t seem like time flew while watching it this though; commercial breaks came as soon as they ended and I had a goofy grin on my face the entire time, seeing the Jokerz back and Terry cracking one liners again…it was really was one of the biggest fan-moments I’ve had while watching Unlimited. The story itself, as previously mentioned, was quite the confusing experience. The first time I watched it I was just entertained by everything; by the second time I finally got a grasp on why Hal Jordan was appearing (other than to make everyone’s eyes bug out) and why everyone started to disappear. In the end, this trip to the future also ended up being an “alternate” trip to the future, as in the end everything was switched back to normal, albeit with Batman and Green Lantern only remembering what went on and Chronos stuck in a constant loop with his wife’s abusive language constantly recycling. D.R. Movie Co. threw in some new effects on the future Batman’s jet boots; instead of dissipating right away, they left swirly trails; though you only saw this once it was a great bit of animation. The city looked as dark and futuristic as ever and the Jokerz new designs were great as well. Chucko on a rolling ball, Bonk with a massive mallet, multiplying Dee Dee’s, a mechanical arm-enhanced Woof and a spinning saw blade on Ghoul. Anyone who didn’t get flash backs to Batman Beyond’s “April Moon” episode must’ve been delirious; then again, Chronos said he traveled into the future to get those upgrades, so either the doctor in “April Moon” didn’t exist yet or…ah hell I’m getting confused again. Regardless, it makes me long for more of Batman Beyond…but I’m sure I’ve said that enough by now.

Static was enjoyable as well; I never was one to watch the show much, sans the special appearances of other DCAU heroes, but an adult Static is definitely who I prefer. He’s got the wit of Flash and the strength of John Stewart and it was great to see the two interact as “old friends.” Warhawk’s “I’m shocked! Shocked! Well not that shocked…” revelation that he is Shayera and John’s kid and that they may have even gotten married (“Stewart” is his last name; he was named “Rex” after Green Lantern’s childhood friend, Rex Mason / Metamorpho) was nice to see extended upon. Even if we didn’t get much (due to the three Batman’s interrupting) else out of the two, it was fun to see where things progressed (and the look that John gives Shayera at the end of the show). The undisputed and best moment of the episode, however, was the scene with Bruce/Batman/Batman—we get the wise and old Wayne saying hello to his younger self and them both telling Terry to shut up in which Terry emits a “What’d they used to call it? Stereo?” quip. It was the things endless fan fictions are made of where the past meets future… I enjoyed this episode much more than part one; animation was awesome, music fit well with every scene and the characters were all handled nicely, even if there was an over abundance of them. Some may trash McDuffie’s writing, but I’ve enjoyed nearly everything he’s written on Justice League and Justice League Unlimited and this was certainly no exception.

Create sci-fi characters with this dress-up game inspired by the Star Wars movies, mostly the original trilogy with Luke, Leia and Han, and also with many items inspired by Padme, Anakin and Obi-wan. There are four themes in the game to approximate outfits from the show, and create new ones: Jedi martial artist, rebel, queen or princess, and slave. Complete her look with weapons, other types of accessories, body customization and a wide hair section. Also, to make the weapons brighter and the image altogether more dramatic, you can play around with the darkness setting!

This game inspired by the Star Wars saga lets you dress up a male counterpart to the original Sci-fi Warrior! Although the woman has more diverse clothes and some alien features, the man is more narrowly focused on the clothing style of Jedi and Siths (and restricted to humans). The religion of the Jedi, and this is reflected in their fashion style, is itself inspired by the Eastern martial arts and monastic orders such as the Shaolin monks, which combine a deep commitment to a spiritual path with the lifelong study of self-defense. While Jedi and Siths alike are warriors trained in combat, the difference between them is their power source: while Siths align with forces of destruction, and derive power from intense emotions especially anger and hatred, the Jedi curb their emotions and do not feel hatred for their enemy. The genius of this philosophy is that it holds the key to ending the cycle of violence: self-defense against an enemy who is not hated.

[ifeellikeameowster]

E.V.O.L Chapter 2 - On No!

Chapter Summary: Logan is finally done with his workday and can now retire to his living quarter upstairs. He starts reviewing his notes for the day only to find a few inconsistencies and a startling conclusion...

Warnings: Beginnings of Yandere like behavior, mentions of stalking, emotional breakdown, breaking of objects.

Pairings: One-sided analogical.

Word Count: 4k+

Chapter followed by Author’s Note then Tag List under the read more:

One track mind, one track heart.

If I fail, I'll fall apart.

Maybe it is all a test.

'Cause I feel like I'm the worst,

So I always act like I'm the best.

Logan Sumner, self proclaimed magical child prodigy and warlock extraordinaire, always had three cups of coffee throughout his typical work day. One cup before breakfast, one in the middle of lunch, and finally one after his dinner. Dr Sumner was well known in the magical community as a stickler for his routine and the outbursts that were sure to follow if anything trivial ever dared to interrupt said routine. Though the particular interruptions that had occurred earlier that day hadn’t bothered him nearly as much as they should have. Almost as if-

He tightened his lips and jerkily shook his head to rid himself of that train of thought before it could even leave the station. Instead, he steered ever sturdily and steadily forward and into his quaint dining room table’s only occupying chair. It was time for dinner, after all. He whistled out into the air of the sparsely decorated apartment atop his shop for his two wonderful and trustworthy Familiars. 

Moriariy, punctual as per usual, was the first to join him. Flying in from the direction of his bedroom and landing at the other end of the table, where a small plate of little seeds and several lush fruits awaited him. His other Familiar, however, followed along at his typical slower pace. Slinking in from the direction of the stairwell and stopping beside him at the foot of the table, where a larger plate of tenderly cooked meats awaited him.

“Did you have a good run, Sheppard?” Logan asks the Valravn as he runs a gentle hand along the canine’s back.

Sheppard, who was slightly more wild in nature than the Yatagarasu, would occasionally leave the shop for the later half of their work day in order to have a refreshing romp in the nearest forest- the one just outside of Painic Park. Logan never once worried over his return, for his Familiars had never failed him before. Which is one of the many reasons he got along better with them than with his other, more humanoid peers.

The handsome pitch black wolf with scattered feathers along his form, bird’s talons as front legs, and a sharp beak perched at the end of his snout gave a tired out, low swooping nod at the query. His warlock gave him a quick pat on the head for his reply and turned away to focus on his own meal. 

It was a hearty and well balanced dinner of steak and salad, yet Logan could not help but feel as though he was craving something else entirely different. Perhaps it was the usual pull towards his work he so often felt? Nodding along to the notion, he picked up his cutlery in order to dig in. One cannot think well on an empty stomach, as the saying goes. Once he began eating, his polite and surprisingly patient Familiars began to eat their own meals as well.

After dinner he immediately washes the small amount of dishes used during the day. It was best not to let them pile up too much, as he was a man that loathed disorder and messiness.

Moriarty swooped in to help place the assorted plates and glasses back on the shelves while Sheppard strode his way over to the living room to lay between Logan’s grey loveseat and the small brick fireplace. Knowing full well that that seat was where Logan would be spending the next couple of hours as he casually went over the day’s work. 

Moriarty, on the other hand, would spend the time flitting between nesting on the cushion beside him, perching on the back of the loveseat, and resting himself upon Logan’s shoulder. His movements were easily predictable for Logan, who hardly ever got startled by the bird. Well, with the exception of…

The warlock pinched the bridge of his nose as he made his own way into the living room while holding his last cup of coffee of the day, sending Moriarty a look that somehow managed to be questioning, exasperated, and fond all rolled into one as he passed by him.

Why had the bird practically launched himself towards their newest client? Normally, if his Familiars invaded a strangers personal space so abruptly upon first meeting them then that meant that they saw them as a threat and were acting fast to protect their warlock. But that had apparently not been the case at all! Moriarity had....had proceeded to cuddle the darkly dressed man in an overly affectionate and quite frankly rude manner. His Familiars, as he had mentioned to the fellow, usually did not like anyone other than Logan. Only finding exception in long time acquaintances that he held a particular camaraderie with. Especially Moriarty because he was Logan’s first and therefore most bonded. The client in question, however...Had seemed to not mind at all...And had just happily soaked up the bird’s affection towards him. He had taken it all in with an alarmingly charming smile and softened voice that almost made his knees-

He falls into the loveseat, gripping the edge of the cushions with one hand and trying not to spill his fresh coffee with the other as he sits down. Anchoring his thoughts before he lets them set sail into some illusionary sunset. He needed to forget about that odd incident. He needed to start thinking straight again. He needed to get some more work done. 

Don't do love, don't do friends.

I'm only after success.

Don't need a relationship.

I'll never soften my grip.

With a resolved sigh the warlock reached over to the end table beside the loveseat, placed the just barely saved cup atop it’s coaster, scooped up the couple of notebooks that were there, and began looking through his notes on all of his meetings for the day. As he read through them, however, he began to feel unnaturally antsy. He chewed on his bottom lip. He tapped his nails against the cover. He hopped his foot continuously up and down. Sensing his uneasiness, Moriarty lets out a questioning caw soon followed by Sheppard’s concerned woof.  

“I’m fine.” He rasps out, “It’s just…” His eyes flicker towards the second notebook, the one now laying right beside his thigh. The one he would read second. Because he always read everything in chronological order and he would never skip around. Not for anything. Because it was very important that he remained well organized and timely in his work. So he would leave that one for later, for only after he had finished this one first. He would leave it there and he would-

Proceed to snatch it up immediately, entirely disregarding the previous notebook, which promptly and tragically fell onto the floor. Poor first notebook. Your fate belongs with the pen now.

“It’s this.” He hisses out as he flips on over to page thirty two. The beginning of his notes on his noon appointment, who had actually arrived an overwhelmingly terrible amount of one and a half hours late. Which had set him further on edge than he already was after dealing with Misses Stockbean around ten o’clock that morning, who had demanded more Ozian Poppy seeds than the original agreed amount for half the usual price. So understandably, he might have been a tad snappy towards the bloke at first but he had tried to soften at least a little bit after seeing how anxious the poor guy really was. But then, oh then, Moriarty had preceded to act entirely too strange for him which set Logan right back on edge again. After he had calmed his Familiar down with promises of extra fruits at dinner that night if he stayed quietly upstairs for the remainder of the appointment, he had finally been able to start to interview him.

Monday, September 23rd. Virgil Spurling. Age 26. Self Employed. Lives with his three adoptive parents, Thomas Proudfoot, Talyn Banes, and Joan Vivas. Only spends time with either the three of them, or his two honorary cousins Remington Sexton and Otto Toby Haggard. No living friends outside of the family. No current romantic or sexual partners. Has dark brown hair with light brown highlights. Has long bangs that fall over his eyes, sometimes almost covering them completely. Has rather stormy hazel blue eyes that almost appear violet depending on the lighting he is in. Has pronounced dark circles under his eyes- which are concerning. Has a lovely onyx teardrop piercing on his left cheek and a pair of matching dahlia piercings besides his lips. Has rounded, soft pink lips with a thinner upper lip and a thicker, more bitable lower lip and-

Wait a minute, just what kind of notes had he been taking the entire time he was conducting this interview?! He skips ahead two pages and he’s still just on the physical description section. His physical descriptions had always been more concise and to the point before now. He didn’t quite understand what had happened this time in order to change that. He skims ahead more to try and pinpoint any change or clue anywhere in all of this absurdity. 

Has brushed his bangs aside and placed them beside his ear to allow me to see that he has a tattoo behind his ear, on the side of his neck, comprised of a complicated swirl of black roses and thorns. It looks like it would have been painful to get but compliments the structure of the junction between his neck and shoulder nicely. It makes one wonder if he would appreciate someone’s equally difficult yet proudly designed tattoos of assorted constellations across one’s rib cages-

Okay, just why had he started talking about his own tattoos? These notebooks weren’t for some diary-esque documentation of himself. They were for taking professional notes so that he made sure he remembered the most important details of, and information for, all of his assorted clientele. Skip ahead further!

He is surprisingly smart. He is as quick witted as he is sharp-tongued. Metaphorically, of course. Physically, his actual tongue is baby pink and soft, if the few times it has darted out to lick nervously over his lips and teeth are of any indication. He hates pick up lines. Understandable. I find them pointless as well. He. Him. He too has memorized the entire periodic table of elements and is actually fluent in using their abbreviated symbols to make multiple words. Impressive. Breathtaking-

Well at least he seemed to be finally past the physical description now. Yet those strange sentences kept popping up and intertwining themselves where they had no right to be. Even if that had been rather breathtaking at the time it still...It still didn’t explain...Skip ahead! Skip ahead!

He lost his only friend at much too young of an age. I couldn't even begin to imagine how he must feel. How I would have felt were I in his place. He deserves to be comforted and well looked after. He needs a hug. A nice long, extended hug. Perhaps, seeing as I am the only one here with him as of the moment and thusly the only person currently available to do so I could-

Woah, woah, woah. Slow down there past Logan! One should never initiate physical contact with their client without their express consent. He knew that, of course. He knew that and yet he had written...He had written far too much about himself, is what he had done. Wasn’t he supposed to be finding Virgil a suitable romantic and/or sexual partner? How could he do that if he was too busy writing about himself and what...what he wanted? And wait, he wanted? He...yearned? And just for what, exactly? Skip-

He likes poetry. Specifically gothic poetry. That is one of my many favorites as well. I have a rather extensive collection in my shop that I could share with him-

Oh Merlin. 

He prefers Astronomy as well. Rather surprising, actually, given his darker appearance and habit of speaking- I had wrongly pegged him for someone much more superstitious. A nice surprise. A welcome one. He seems hyper fixated on the plethora of bird-associated constellations which is highly endearing. There is a new large telescope being currently housed in the recently opened observatory section of the Morph Museum, which is not that far of a walk from my shop. Perhaps I could take him-

Oh Merryweather.

He likes bath bombs and the hand soap that foams. He likes collecting seashells and storing little hidden trinkets in them. He likes feeling the gentler tides lap across his feet but dislikes ever actually going any further into the water unless someone he trusts is there with him. Meanwhile, I personally haven’t been out metal detecting in a while maybe I could go with-

Oh Mages of Both Old and New!

I know exactly what I want and who I want to be.

I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine.

I'm now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy.

Oh, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh!

Logan tosses the notebook back down onto the couch, a notably much safer place than the floor, and lets out a choked, broken sob. Using his hands to haphazardly tug on his hair, he somehow hopes to numb his ever spiraling thoughts like a brain freeze might do so after drinking a cold beverage too fast but it’s not working.  Nothing’s working and-

And there’s a lick on one of his hands. He blinks aside a few tears he hadn’t even realized had fallen in the first place and sees that Sheppard had risen to his height by standing on his hind paws and was now trying to gently get his warlock to stop abusing his own scalp. Meanwhile, Moriarty was darting back and forth across the room, obviously trying to locate the source of Logan’s clear distress. He manages a breathy chuckle at that despite his current haggard condition and decides to wrap his arms gently around Sheppard’s feathered scuff instead.

“Really,” he praises, “What would I do without you two?” 

Sheppard huffs back at him, which roughly translated to Nothing, obviously. And causes Logan to break out into a more genuine laugh this time before sinking to his knees and bringing the pup softly down with him. He evens his breathing out as Shep licks consolingly at his hands and arms. “What am I going to do, boy?” he mumbles as he uses his dress shirt’s pocket handkerchief to dab at the stray tears with one arm as he still clings to the wolf with his other. “This can’t be happening, right? It just can’t.” He gets no response at that, however, probably since the poor canine can’t entirely grasp the emotional severity of the situation. 

Deciding to just toss the handkerchief into the nearest bin instead of sending it through the wash as per usual whenever he dirtied it, he finally lets go of Sheppard, stands back up, and brushes off his pants legs. Upon glancing towards the looming form of the notebook where it still lay tauntingly on the couch’s cushions, he guffaws a more strained and panicked laugh as his thought train not only takes off down the tracks but also entirely derails off course.

If you are not very careful,

Your possessions will possess you.

TV taught me how to feel,

Now real life has no appeal.

“What have I always told myself, hm?” He gestures wildy, causing Moriarty to stop his frantic searching in order to look towards him and for Sheppard to perk back up into attention as well. “What have I always told myself even way back in school? Even though other more hormonal mages always disagreed with me, what were the words I always stuck by, huh?” The two Familiars shared a brief confused look between the two of them.

Logan stops to run a hand through his hair in hopes of straightening it up a bit from it’s tousled state. “What words not only got me through school but also allowed me to reach my full potential and achieve the placement of top student?” He allows himself to take a moment to stroke a hand over each of the surfaces of all the awards aligning the top shelf of his smallest bookcase, located on the other side of the loveseat than the end table was. These were the backups of the awards he kept in his shop downstairs, just in case a particularly rowdy customer ever managed to break one. After his fingers left the “Best Little Potion Maker’s” one, he pushed himself away from the area entirely and headed swiftly towards the hallway in front of the staircase. 

It has no appeal.

It has no appeal.

It has no appeal.

It has no appeal.

It has no appeal!

His ever attentive Familiars followed worriedly behind him until they stop just before the steps. He flourishes a harsh, pointed finger at the few portraits hanging on the wall there. “What words were going to eventually get me all the way to the top of Heartwish City’s very own magical community? But are now just...Just dead pipe dreams!” His two most trusted creature companions, still ever so confused by his current trail of logic, made hushed little questioning noises.

Ripping the topmost portrait off of the wall, he began to hiss his next words at it as if the object itself had managed to personally offend him. “Focus on your work. Never fall prey to your feelings. You need to be successful in life more than you need to personally engage in any inane romantic or sexual endeavors.” Merlin’s painted facade stared blankly and unchangingly back at him. In utter retaliation at the silence, he tosses it frame and all down the stairs. Upon remembering Logan’s aversion to untidiness, Sheppard slinks slowly down them to go collect the scattered remains.

Don't want cash, don't want card.

Want it fast, want it hard.

Don't need money, don't need fame.

I just want to make a change.

“Lot of good that did me, boys!” He continues to deliriously shout out, “All these years and not even so much of an inkling of said feelings and yet over the course of one idiotically ineffable day I’ve managed to gain what is essentially a childish schoolyard crush!” He managed to breathe out all in one go before slumping tiredly against the side of the stairwell.

In a Eureka! moment Moriarty begins to excitedly flit to and fro while hurriedly chirping at his warlock. Almost too fast for him to be able to sense the meaning of. “Wait, slow down a bit Mori. What are you-” More hard to decipher chirps, “Hold on, move in? What on earth gave you that idea? No, he’s not going to-” More persistent caws this time, “Well, of course we both like him, I’ve literally just now established that already and- And wait just a moment.”

He scoops the bird gently into his palms. “You liked him first, didn’t you?” One short caw confirmed a resounding Yes. for him. “Did you know, then? Could you have possibly sensed that he’s perfect for me? For us?” He stutters out a breathy laugh, “That’s what that whole debacle was about, wasn’t it?” The crow coos soothingly back up at him and gives him a love bite on the bridge of his nose. Logan releases Moriarty back into the air, along with the emotions connected to his previous outburst, and leans back to place his hands firmly on his hips while he stood proudly back up on his own two feet.

“Just look at me, behaving so ridiculously over the top for such a trivial matter. Throwing a temper tantrum even! Just what would my old professors say, if they saw me now?” He shuffles over to the other side of the hallway where a small cabinet is and opens one of the drawers. “After all, I am more than perfectly capable of handling more than one problem at a time, am I not?” There was both a cheerfully agreeable caw and howl at that, which caused him to finally smile happily again. “And besides, it might not even last all that long. Crushes and mere infatutations are usually short lived!” He rifles through the drawer’s contents until he finds another portrait that was dusty and slightly cracked in one of the upper hand corners. Shutting the drawer and striding back over to the stairwell he holds it up to see if it’ll fit in the arrangement. “Yes, this’ll do perfectly.”

I just wanna change.

I just wanna change.

I just wanna change.

I just wanna change.

I just wanna change!

“And well, if it does last longer or just so happens to escalate further, then...” He concludes as he places the portrait on the spot with a short spell to fix the hook he had broken earlier and steps back to admire the new set up, “His parents never specified that I couldn't be the one I chose for his match, now did they?” Morgan Le Fey, now sitting atop the others as if on a throne made up of the mages, gives him a subtly wicked and tilted smile in response. 

He mirrors her expression for the briefest of moments before spinning on his heel and heading towards the only window on the top floor of his building. The warlock steps into his bedroom,  pushes the curtains aside, and undoes the latches in the center. As he thrusts the two panes wide open, Moriarty joins his side once more.

 “Ah, perfectly punctual as always, Moriarty.” he praises as the bird lands on the back of his hand before leaning in to whisper conspiratorially to him, “Before any new endeavor one embarks on in their life, they should always research properly first, yes?” After his Familiar nods in agreement he continues onwards, “And I’m sure you want to see him again soon yourself, right?” Upon realizing who his warlock was talking about, the bird fluffs up his feathers in anticipation. “Exactly, so this all makes perfect sense.” He waves away any other possible negative notions with a sweep of his hand and turns swiftly back towards the open window.

The sun was setting now. The doctor briefly recalled a time, as a kid, where he had stayed up long past his bedtime not only to see the sunset but to also test out his newest telescope. Back then, before he had properly entered into his magical schooling, he had been far more into scientific pursuits at the time. Though he still held a liking towards them now that he was older, what really currently consumed him was his work with all things magical and mythical. Though now, after today, a new beast of a subject was rounding the corner to have it’s turn eating away at his soul. Maybe, just maybe, if he was lucky enough, he could manage to take a bite out of it first.

“Alright, Moriarity, you know what you must do.” He interrupted the nostalgic scene and swung the arm the Yatagarasu was perched upon out the window and into the open picturesque evening air. His voice took on a booming echo, “Go forth and gather all that we must know, Though never your own cover you must blow.”

All three of his Familiar’s eyes flashed with the royal blue color of Logan’s magic before the third eye disappeared into the feathers of his forehead and his third leg was tucked away into the feathers of his tail. They both breathed a collective sigh of relief at another spell well cast, despite the roller coaster of emotions that they had all been through that day. Moriarty gave him one final nod in reassurance of their plan and took off into the ever changing dusk sky.

The warlock stayed by the window long enough to watch until his Familiar’s form disappeared over the horizon then set about closing and locking it back up. His other Familiar trudged upwards from the stairs, through the small apartment, and into his bedroom. Giving him a huff to announce his presence. 

“Oh, you cleaned it up?” he asked the Valravn, who butted his head against his thigh, “Thank you, though I could have gotten it myself later.” A grunt followed that and he chuckled as he scratched behind the canine’s ears, “Yes, yes you're a good boy. Now let’s head to bed, shall we?” Sheppard pulled away from the affection to howl at the window. “Moriarty? He’s...running an errand. He’ll be a while.” To which he received the most pointed look a dog’s face could ever muster. He shivered as he felt the intrinsically implied Can’t hide things from me, we’re bonded. and cleared his throat to correct himself, “He’s watching over our dear new acquaintance, Virgil. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to meet him yourself soon.” 

Much more satisfied by that answer, Shep hopped up onto his rightful spot at the foot of the bed. Where he settled down to wait as Logan went through his nightly routine of partially getting ready for the next work day, cleaning himself up, and changing into his pajamas. 

Meanwhile, the coffee mug in the living room on the dark wooden end table still sat forgotten and untouched. Where it would no doubt remain throughout the entire night.

I'm gonna live, I'm gonna fly.

I'm gonna fail, I'm gonna die.

I'm gonna live, I'm gonna fly.

I'm gonna fail, gonna die, die, die, die.

A/N: So I’m still a dirty rotten no good procrastinator. But! Hopefully it’ll help make up for the wait just a little bit that I’ll be posting both chapters 2 and 3 in quick secession. Along with a short, one-off Creativitwins fanfic (coming soon) based off of the latest episode (SVS Part 2). Hope you’ll enjoy! ^ . ^ “”” Also, I’ll no longer be going through the original post for reblogs to add to the taglist. So if anyone wants to be added to it please dm or ask me and let me know! ;3

Tag List: 

@accidental-sanders 

@ren-allen

@noneed4thistbh

@virgil-the-void-kitten

@totalwhovian

@bandgeek82002-love

@allycat31415

@notalwaysthevillian

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@andreaissy

@girl-from-pluto

@loveyousweets

@im-a-space-gay

@kai-the-person

[amaloaf]

Forget (Remember) ch. 4

Hey remember this? Apparently I did so here it is, only 6+ months late. Sorry for any inconsistencies, I kinda had to do an overhaul on some of the plot points, nothing major.

The new doctor in town, Doc, was kind enough. He picked out the glass in Sarge’s hand and bandaged it without saying more than three word to either of them. He made fast work of it and before either of them knew, one tetanus shot and and a wise sounding “be more careful next time” later, they were back on the street left to awkwardly walk home.

Sarge couldn't even pretend to look at Fillmore. He just clenched his fists until his bandaged hand stung to distract himself as he stormed back to his store. Fillmore spoke to his back.

“So we're not even gonna talk about this?” Sarge could hear the uneven sound of Fillmore’s wheelchair moving over the rugged terrain. If he were a better man he would go back and at least have the decency to push his partner back to his hut. However, he was just too angry to give a damn about anything regarding Fillmore so he made the show of loudly stomping his feet back to the surplus garage. At least Fillmore was kind enough not to call after him.

Doug “Mater” Keever was waiting inside the door when he went inside. He had some idea of why he was here, so Sarge brushed past him in favor of helping an old woman who was looking at some of the various scrap he kept in the back of the store. She soon left with a sturdy copper pipe, though, and Sarge was forced to acknowledge the other man's presence.

“Doug.” He nodded in his direction.

“Sarge.” Doug seemed to consider him for a moment before deciding to continue. “I hear y’alls havin’ relationship issues.” He stated bluntly. Sarge glared at him from over a display table, he had never had and issue with Mater or his family (in fact they were currently the only outed gay couple in the town who had yet to be stricken by misfortune, which Sarge took some comfort in), but that didn't mean there wasn't any reason to start. Especially if they wanted to start sticking their grimy noses were they didn't belong. Mater put his hands up in defense, though his cheeky smile certainly didn't go unnoticed, “Now, now I di’nt mean nuthin’ by it ya know me Sarge. But I can't safely say I hadn’t been in your shoes before and thought yous could use a helpin’ hand in all that drama.”

“I haven't a clue about what in God’s name your talking about.”, he lied. Maybe, if Sarge was lucky, he could maybe not have the entire town find out about what goes on his bedroom before the day ends. “In case you haven't noticed I'm just a simple man living a single, bachelor life in a up-and-coming pitstop town. I'm not exactly the settling down type.” Another lie. “Besides, even if I was having issues, which I'm not, why would you be any help, I mean it's not like we have anything… in common.” Even Sarge couldn't deny how full of shit he sounded. Mater just chuckled, a deep but warm sound that came from the chest, and looked at Sarge with a mix of amusement and pity.

“Y'know Sarge, denial’s a big ol’ parta the comin’ out process. I won't deny I spent years fightin’ myself at e’ry turn ‘cause I felt I hadda be sumn’ I wasn't.” Sarge stiffened at his words, his shoulders pulling back and his spine going rigid. “I'm jus’ tellin’ ya, it doesn't havta be that way for ya. Radiator Springs is safe, ain't nobody gon’ be able to touch ya here, you can jus’.. be yerself.” Mater said as he watched Sarge, hoping for some sort of recognition or even just a show that he was listening.

Sarge expertly kept his eyes trained on the wall. He kept his arms crossed, voice dangerously low and whispered, “Get the fuck out of my shop before you regret making assumptions that you know a damned thing about me.”

Mater sighed. “Aight, then. Have a good resta ya day, Sarge.” Mater began to walk out but paused in the doorway, “Woulda at leas’ think bout what I-” he was cut up by Sarge slamming the door behind him and removed the sign on the window that said “Open” to “Out to Lunch”. He watched Mater regard the sign before walking off his property, slight disappointment clear in his posture.

‘Good. Serves him right for trying to breach my privacy.’ Sarge thought. He finally felt like he had a second to breath, like he had been holding his breath since the tattoo parlor. He realized he hadn't even gotten dressed this morning and was still just in his sweatpants and jacket. His watch told him it was almost 12:30. Lunch break shower it is.

….

A shower really did do wonders on him. He finally looked halfway respectable, his hair combed and his oddly colored skin at least clean. Fresh clothes and he was practically a new man. No other residents came to the shop for the rest of the business day, so he could rest easy helping customers and negotiating prices. He even caught a shoplifter, a sniveling teen with greasy hair growing past his collar that had tried to shove some blank dog tags into his pocket. He felt a small sense of pride handing the boys apologetic parents a pamphlet for a correctional military camp and watching the kids face twist in horror.

A small part of his brain told him Fillmore would be disappointed, and that he should of been more forgiving. He pushed those thoughts away, after all he had a business to run.

It wasn't until he closed up for the night that he was suddenly aware of how hungry he was, and how empty his kitchen was of any nutritional substance. ‘Normally I eat at Fillmore’s’ he thought miserably as he closed another cabinet after no food had materialized between the last five minutes he had checked. ‘‘Flo’s can't be THAT busy. I'll just get something to go.’’

He was right in a sense; Flo’s cafe was having a fairly slow night, it was just housing everyone Sarge was trying to avoid. Ramone sat on a barstool, trying to start a conversation with the new doctor. The town sheriff was having a malt on the doctors other side, and Doc seemed to be warming up to him much better. Mater sat with his husband, Carlo, and their kid Toby, (who they just called “Tow” since the poor kids lisp made it hard to pronounce his own name and they just couldn't resist the pun to their profession) at an outside table. Tow was talking loudly about some sort of lizard he had seen and was spraying food whenever he talked. Scattered townsfolk and shopkeepers lounged around, relaxing after another busy workday. The worst of it though, was Fillmore sat in his and Sarge's normal table, forlornly picking through a salad. It was enough to make Sarge up and leave, but before he could try and slip away Flo called from the doorway, making everyone in the restaurant look his way.

“Hey there General! The usual?” She shouted, and by the coy grin on her face, Sarge just knew she and Ramone had planned something. He faked a half smile and shouted back, “Yes, if you don't mind!”, before stomping up to sit at the bar next to Ramone.

Doc took notice of the new patron and leaned over, “How's your hand doin’, Sargent?” Sheriff immediately noticed Sarge's hand, which had begun to show stains of blood through the bandaging.

“Woof, how'd you get that, Sarge?”, he asked, voice laced with trace amounts of concern through his malt.

“Grabbed a figurine too rough and it shattered in my hand. It's doing much better though Doctor, thanks.” Sarge replied. “I'll change the bandaging again tonight, I think.”, he added quickly before the doctor could lecture him on taking care of his wound.

“Good. Make sure to disinfect it as well.” He said before adding, “Oh, and you can just call me Doc, no need to be so formal.”

“Just Doc, huh?” Ramone said as Flo placed a hearty red stew with a glass of water in front of Sarge and sliding a ham sandwich to Doc. “Does that come with a story?” Ramone added with a grin, “or do we have to crack your cold facade first?”

“Maybe my origins will be revealed in due time.” Doc said evenly as he took a sandwich half in his hands. “But for now let’s enjoy the lovely food that's been placed before us.”

‘Amen’ Sarge thought. He could feel Fillmore's eye glancing over his back and he wanted to be gone as soon as physically possible. Just when he began to gulp down his last few spoonfuls he felt a large, warm, familiar hand on his back. He turned his head just enough to regard Fillmore but made no effort to make conversation. Ramone and Doc both glanced at them, smugly and curiously, respectively, before politely turning away. Sheriff, never one for social graces, made no such niceties, watching them over Doc’s shoulder.

“Ge- Sarge, do you think we could talk now?” Fillmore asked, his voice gentle.

Sarge thought about it for a moment before answering, “No. I don't think I'm ready yet.” It wasn't a complete lie, but just enough of one to make him feel bad all the same for not working through these relationship issues. “Just… give me time.” Fillmore removed his hand and began to turn the wheelchair around and leave the room.

Sarge couldn't stand watching him go. Even his hand being removed from Sarge's back made his heart ache.

[wickeryburning]

I’ll Be Right Here. Always.

[wyrm-wolf]

The Frog Prince

*screams out of excitement* man I really love this calendar month event, I'm having such a ball. Well, here's another story, hope you don't mind that I didn't involve frogs "No. Bad dog. Shoo, shoo." Hannibal admonishes. There standing in front of his car door is a stray mutt, the same stray mutt that has been following him for the past week. He regrets being kind to the mutt, because now it's constantly following him every where he goes. At first, he couldn't help but feel a little sorrow for the stray, as he had seen it many tines as he past the FBI academy. He watched a couple of kids cruelly attack or trick the dig, leaving him hungry and miserable. So, using the meat from a leftover pig, Hannibal had prepared a warm meal, and brought it to the stray. When the dog had first seen him, he growled and backed away whimpering slightly. It wasn't until Hannibal had crouched down, extending a hand for the dog to sniff and inspect him did the stray finally come bear him without jumping away. Hannibal had then pulled out the prepared and set the dish in front of the stray, he could practically see the drool from the dog before it dug into the meal. Once the dog had finished the warm meal, he tipped happily and ducked his head down, giving Hannibal's hand a soft kiss. Usually, Hannibal would have been disgusted by a creatures saliva in him, but he couldn't help but feel his pride swell at the dog's happiness. When he had left the dog that night, he felt his sins lift off him a little from the good deed he had done, only to be weighted back on him once he left his house to kill a rude. But his meeting with the stray did not stop there, no there second meeting was at Hannibal's work. The stray was snoozing on the stairs to his work, and lifted his head once he heard Hannibal approaching. He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the stray, wondering how it knew where he worked. Only to shrug and oat the dogs head, before slipping into his building. Thinking the dog would be gone once he left was a mistake, because one by one his patients came in all noting about the strange dog sleeping on the stairs of his building. Hannibal had assured them the dog was safe, and would not harm them as long as they did not mess with him. For three days he would come to work only to find the dog still there, still sleeping on the staircase, still giving Hannibal shy kisses on his hands. Still questions from his curious patients about the dog, and it's presence. It wasn't until the second day when Hannibal found himself making a meal to go for the dog, and spent his lunch break sitting on the stairs eating with the dog. Who apparently had manners, as it chewed soundlessly, and wiped his mouth when he was finished. Hannibal couldn't help the smile on his face, when the dog whined slightly for extras, before forking over the rest of his meal. Then came the end of the week, and Hannibal was leaving late from his office that night only to find the stray sitting in front of his car. Almost like he wanted Hannibal to take him home. So here he was trying to get the stray to move wo he could go home and sleep, only to see that the mutt was just as stubborn as he was. "Fine. You can come home with me, but only for this night." Hannibal gave, opening the back door of his Bentley, only to watch the dog sit perfectly on the back seat and be mindful if his fur. "Stubborn mutt." The drive home was a little too quiet for someone to have a dig in there back seat, thankfully who wasn't car sick. He watched the stray from the rear view mirror, as it stared out the window in almost saddening silence. When he reached his house, he watched as the happy mutt run up to his door, and wait for him like a dog with years of training. "Your quite smart for a stray on the streets." Hannibal mused, staring down at the dog as he unlocked his front door. The dog wooded at him, before slinking through his front door, a d sniffing at every piece of furniture. Hannibal noted how the dog sniffed the rooms Hannibal walked in, and never strayed from him. He made a small little experiment, by closing a door and waiting to see of the dog ran off, but when he opened the door he saw the stray was standing there waiting for him. He smirked at this. "You can't sleep in ny room, no matter how kind or cute you are. You are not allowed on my bed." Hannibal mused, before leaving to shower. And guess who was laying on his bed when he left from the shower, half naked and wrapped in a towel. The mutt was, looking all to pleased as he wagged his tail when Hannibal glared at him. He gave Hannibal sad blue puppy eyes, and what could have passed as a pout for anyone easily fooled by cuteness. By Hannibal was having none of this. He snapped his fingers, Ponting to the ground, waiting for the stray to get off his bed so he could wipe off the fur. But the stray had just raised an eyebrow at him, saying something along the lines of 'Really?', and wagging his tail when Hannibal groaned. "Just this once, since you haven't destroyed anything, and have been very well trained." He groaned, turning the lights off before slipping into bed. The stray huffed, and scooted away from Hannibal, enough to give them both room. And well, one night became two, which soon became three, which soon turned out to be every night. Which every morning Hannibal found himself making breakfast for both he and the dog, saying to himself that this will be the last day, only to find himself always wooed by the dogs charms and kindness. "I need to give you a name." Hannibal mumbled one afternoon, as he sat reading in the study, the stray resting next to his legs as he sipped wine. Hannibal sat back, letting his mind rave with possibilities and ideas. Not noticing when the stray had jumped off the couch, and went off some where in the study. "Hmmmm...Napolean? No. Constantine? No." He went back and forth, calling names out but none could really fit the dog. That is until the stray came padding right up to him with a book in his mouth. "William Shakespeare? William....Will. Yes, that's a good name, Will, your name is Will." The dig jumped up, woofing excitingly when Hannibal had come home the next day holding a collar. And soon he was bringing along Will every where, at first it was to his work. Claiming that Will was just a service dog, here to protect Hannibal from crazed patients, and to assist with whatever needed. Frankly, he couldn't have been happier to have Will around, especially when Franklin had tried to touch Hannibal. Will had suddenly bolted from where he was seated, and git between the two, growling with hackles raised at Franklin, who bumbled  about at the angry mutt. "Will." Hannibal quipped, and suddenly the dog was calmed down, panting like a happy pooch. "I apologies, Franklin but contact with me would not be best, as Will tends to see it as someone trying to attack me." "O-o-oh, right. Of course, Dr. Lecter. See you next meeting?" Franklin stuttered, shoving his sweaty palms into his pockets. "Of course." Hannibal answered, hiding his shear from the disgusting man. When the door was shut, Hannibal gave Will a treat, and thanked him with a scratch behind the ear. "What would I do without you." Hannibal chuckled to himself. Will wooded, and chewed at the homemade treats he was given, wagging his tail delightfully. When Hannibal went home that night, he had almost forgotten his date he was having with Alana. Leaving Will alone with enough food and water for the night, Hannibal had said his goodbyes before leaving. When he came hone it was with Alana in his arms, as he would be needing an alibi for his next victim. She didn't even suspect that he was playing her, but he would let her get lost in his embrace. Or would have, if Will hadn't cone charging through the bedroom door growling and snapping at Alana. "Hannibal! What the Hell!" She guessed jumping away from the man, and onto the bed. Will barked st her, standing guard of Hannibal. "Will, down! She us s guest." Hannibal snapped, pulling at the dog's collar when he didn't give up. Hannibal had to lock him out if his room, as Will would not calm down, growling at the sight of Alana. There were a few whimpers, before Will had growled again and ran off to some other part if the house. "I'm sorry Alana, he usually doesn't act like this, he's very kind and protective of me." Hannibal confessed, soothing Alana with his words. "Maybe you should keep him on a leash if he gets like that again. Anyways, where were we?" "Of course." The next morning, after Alana had left for work, Hannibal had started making Will breakfast, only to notice his dog was nowhere to be seen. "Will?" He called out, setting the knife down and cleaning his hands, before searching for the dog. He looked in the study, the backyard, and his own room, before staring to look through the other room's. And yet, the stray was no where to be seen. He was beginning to worry about his dog's safety, before finding him in a room far off in the back of his house. "Will...come, it's time to eat." Hannibal ordered from the door, watching the dog lay on an empty bed. He saw one of Will's ears flicker towards him, before flattening back down. The dog didn't move, and grumbled slightly when Hannibal came close. "I see. Very well, I'd you decide that your hungry food will be set out for you, but of you just want to pout around all day then don't let me get in your way. I have other things to do." And with that, he left for work, uncertain about the heaviness in his heart as he drove to work. He couldn't pay attention to anything his patients were frying to him, as his mind only ran around as to why Will was so upset.  Although he did notice the very rude man that was dragging his dog home, kicking the shivering dog when it tried to stop and sniff at a passing object. Hannibal's frown had increased, and he began to boil with rage. How dare this pig be so low as to kick around a helpless dog, right there Hannibal decided who his next victim would be. "Will?" Hannibal called out while setting his jacket on a hook, and checked the kitchen. His heart wrenched at the sight of the food that he left out, which had not been eaten. Why was Will acting like this? Surely a dog wouldn't understand how human relationships go, or be..jealous of Alana. Dog's can't get jealous, can they? Taking the stairs by two, Hannibal quietly walked over to the room he had found the pouch lying in this morning. Surprised to see that Will was lying in the same spot he had been in the morning, he sighed and walkers over to sit next to the dog. Will growled when he moved a hand close to his head, but Hannibal wasn't going to let some dog scare him off by just growling. Placing his hand on Will's soft fur he began to stroke at his pointed ears, waiting for the dog to fully calm down before speaking. "There was man I saw today after work, he had a dog and wouldn't stop kicking the puppy no matter how many times the dog cried out." Hannibal announced, listening to the soft growls growing from the dog under his hand. "I think I'll kill him tonight." Now that had gotten Will's attention, as the dog sat up on his hind legs, looking straight at Hannibal with full interest. Smiling Hannibal scratched behind Will's ear, and explained his plan to him fully. Will barked and wagged his tail, leaving Hannibal a little worried about himself since he just explained to a dog how he would kill then cook someone. He just shrugged, and waited till night fall. And when the moon was at it's highest peak, and the dark had settled in he left the house. Followed the drunken man and led him to an empty warehouse, where he proceded to kill the man and harvest his organs. Not expecting to see Will waltzing in eight after him, and watching Hannibal work. "You are a very strange dog." Hannibal smiled, before leaning down to kiss Will's snout. Only to have himself thrown backwards by some invisible force, and a blinding light to caste itself in the room. When he looked up again he did not see a once stray mutt sitting there, but a naked man. A very lovely looking naked, with a halo if dark curls, blue eyes which held age and wisdom, and a smile of a predator. The naked man then skipped over to where Hannibal played, pulling him up by his lapels and kissing him on the mouth. Those cruel plush of his did wonders to Hannibal, as he began to clutch at the man's curls and lithe body. "I've been waiting to do that for a long time, Hannibal." The man purred, pressing kisses to Hannibal's chin. "May I ask for an explanation on where my beloved dog went, or is this just a dream because I had a heart attack or something?" He mused, leaning his head back for Will to have more room. "Well you see here Hannibal, I was cursed by a witch after I fed her the meat of her own lived one and child. So she cursed me, and the only way to break the curse is if my soulmate kissed me, of course it did take a long, ling time for me to find another cannibal who would kiss a dog." He explained. "And after a few weeks, ta-da, I'm human once again, and with my soulmate." "I see. That explains the William Shakespeare book, meaning that your name is William. And when Alana came home that night, that's why you were so mean to her, was because I am made for you." Hannibal hummed, running fingers through those dark curls. "Well, not only do you belong to me since we're soulmates, but she's also the witch who cursed me. But she must have gone dumb after the decades, because even I could tell you were feeding me human from the first meal you made me." Will scoffed, pulling at Hannibal's tie, and sucking at his neck. "And now, what will you do, since you are human once again?" "Go back to my old job, duh, there's still a lot of pigs who need to be cooked in this world. And my, my Hannibal have you caught a good one. Shall we?" Hannibal smiled cruelly at Will, pulling at the man's curls to give him a searing kiss. Listening to those beautiful moans that escaped Will's sinful mouth. "We shall. And after that, I think I owe you a night in my bed." "Oh, you don't even know how much you owe me, Hannibal." Together they made a mural of death with the man Hannibal had killed, and when they arrived back at Hannibal's house they fucked like wild animals. Growling and clawing, hissing and scratching at one another, while leaving bites and marks. Hannibal would then wake up the next day to make Will a feast of a breakfast, and explain to him how they were going to kill Alana. Will had practically jumped around in joy at Hannibal's plan, pulling the man in for another kiss which would end with a less in the kitchen. Haha, I love writing. Tomorrow is "Rapunzel" and I probably didn't spell that right, but whatever. I hope you like Kaecilious cause he's going to be in the next event

[museoffury]

I awoke with the feeling of longing today to know a father I was never given the chance to meet. I thought about the deep and profound secret my Mother kept in her heart of something so significant and wondered why she didn’t want me to know. I started to write a song in Spanish about sadness and wishing.

I then decided that I could not put off the inevitable and so today would begin with a mundane task: laundry. Even that proves to be a significant experience here since most seem to wash by hand and hang laundry outside their window on a line. There didn’t seem to be a way to do that in this pad, and I’ll be quite honest: I really am not into that. Call me shishi, but I like my clothes blown dry. So, I looked up various Lavandarias and found one just 3-blocks up from where I’m staying–pretty cool being that I could only find six in all of Lisbon. This one named Lavandaria do Aqueduto seemed fitting. Aqueducts carry water over obstacles, right? My clothes had been through Zurich, Madrid, and a couple of days in Lisbon already. It was an easy-peasy walk up the hill and I found 3 washers and two dryers in a very clean, small laundromat with instructions in English in a 4-point font below the Portuguese words and if you push the correct combination of buttons, voila! it includes a detergent in the washing machine which begins from a controller on the wall for all the machines. Snap!  Since I had 30-min, I decided to head around the corner to a little cafe I had seen offering some quick “para levar” so that I could grab an espresso and a nibble. It was busy and the server was rushing about quite efficiently. When she came to ask what I wanted, I told her that she was impressive and efficient. She smiled and relaxed for a second:

“34-years of doing this makes it so. It’s better be fast.  I started here working for my grandfather when I had 18 years; now when my father dies, it will be mine. “

Wow! Impressive! I did some quick inaccurate math:

“We are the same age. I am 56 and…”

She interrupted: “I have 52-years.”

Me: “Oh, yes. Of course. It is fantastic that the business passes to you after all of your hard work. What is your name?”

She gave me my order and took the Euros and tip.

“Gabriella. Thank you for talking me. Have a nice day.”

 Here is her little spot in Lisbon where my Pastel de Nata and espresso sit in the middle. Mind you, there are thousands of Padarias and Pastelarias and Cafes everywhere you walk here. The reason I walked into this one is that I happened to be washing my clothes around the corner. 15-min in the dryer and I was on my way back to the pad.

By this point, it was 1:20p and I was ready to find some serious lunch. I’ve only been eating one meal out per day and want to stick to that since I have a little kitchenette here and have bought some essentials to keep at the temp homestead. I read about a cool place to eat lunch (even though it was already 2p) that wasn’t due to close like most the others I found that end lunch service at 3p. This one was open until midnight with no break. It was across town and would promise an exploratory plunge into the world of busses and trams here in Lisbon – a new adventure! Excellent, I love this part of a new city! When I clicked to go to GoogleMaps to see an overview of the location, my tab fell on a Chrome MomentumDash screen that always provides a relaxing picture, a quote, and some other productivity points.

Oh, yes. I feel balanced alright here on vacation. Thank you for the message, computer!

The restaurant description pointed out the location as the LX Factory and I had also seen it as a destination point on GoogleMaps. I wondered about it and researched further. I found this:

In 1846, a fabric production plant (Companhia de Fiação e Tecidos Lisbonenses) was created in Alcântara, Lisbon. The industrial complex spanned over a total of 23.000 m2 and was one of the most important undertakings the city had so far seen. Fifty years later, the company decides to move and, in its place, a succession of businesses such as industrial typographies took advantage of the unique location and facilities. Forward to the late 20th century and the location was an abandoned, run-down and decrepit inner-city area that desperately needed a makeover. A private investor decides to take on the challenge of creating something new out of almost one hundred years of history and the rest, as they say, is indeed history. Today, the space is home to more than 200 businesses ranging from cafés, restaurants, design houses, show-rooms, shops, offices, commercial spaces to other projects that link directly to the space’s unique cultural and artistic standing.

I’m going to provide some shots of my own soon, but these photos here on TripAdvisor say it all!

So, all I had to do was get there.

What did we do without GoogleMaps? Well, I’ll tell you one thing GM doesn’t tell you is which side of the street to wait for a bus and so goes my next 1.5 hours for a trip that should have taken 23-minutes according to my i-spaceship. I walked over to the huge Assembly of the Republic building. Yes, this is where the central hub of the Portuguese government meets and it’s quite a building.

When I got to the top, I thought I could find the bus stop as the little blue dot on GMaps was showing that I was quite close. I looked down:  Hmmm, somewhere likely down there. I’ll walk a bit and voila! The bus I wanted was just leaving, but alas, another one comes in 15-minutes. I waited, watched and listened to a bird in a cage hanging on a mini-patio just above the stop across the street. I looked down to see another bus of the number I needed to hop on going the other way. Shoot. Was I waiting on the right side of the street?  I looked at GMaps and retraced my steps…Ayii. It looks like I need to wait over there! I crossed the street and looked at the map. Yes, Cavalária is one of the stops. OK, phew.

One came 10-minutes later and I hopped on and took a seat. We traveled a mile or so when I realized that nowhere does it state the stop name so how would I know when we reached Cavalária? I could go ask the bus driver. Or, I could check the blue dot on my phone!  Uh-Oh, it shows I’m going further from LX Factory, not toward it. Damn. By now we were at the hundredth or so tall statue I have seen of men towering over squares and plazas–this one called the something de Pombra. So many famous men to put on pedestals! I hopped off the next stop and crossed the street to wait on the other side for the bus going the other way. OK, now I’ll be set. Two of the wrong number went by and then, finally! Here comes the 727, only it was going fast and wouldn’t stop! Um, Oh no: I’ve got to go to a different stop further up by the man on the pedestal!  Jesus! Who is that poor woman with her bare breast and arms chained above her head below the man on the pedestal? No time to check. I had to keep searching for the stop. I walked another 1/2-hour as the streets here are very wide and filled with taxis and buses all going somewhere very quickly. I walked down another street trying to follow the damned blue dot but I seemed to be heading off course again. OK, look for the street name. They are on the sides of buildings on each corner and do not have their own post like we have. I looked up and guess what I found?  Can you imagine? The word has re-entered from Madrid to Portugal. I smiled. There is a HOTEL Tranquilidade. I was reminded to just enjoy the ride of being lost and to maintain my balance. I walked another block and then circled back around the dude on the pedestal (again). This time, I heard American voices next to me. A Mom, Dad, and Daughter were looking up and all around like I had been:

Dad: “Jesus. I’m tired of going in circles. I can’t find anything here.”

Me: “Hey, me too! I’ve been trying to find a bus going to a certain place and it’s taken me an hour!”

Mom: “It took us 45-minutes to find the post office we were told was just up the block.”

Me: “I’m going to the post office too, and…

Dad: “Well, you’re going the wrong way, it’s behind us 4-blocks!”

Me: “Oh, I’m going to a different one near where I plan to eat lunch…well, now it’s dinner, I guess.”

Mom: “You mean there is more than one? We were told that there was only one and it’s behind us.”

Me: “Oh, there are a lot of post offices all over, but just not near each other.”

Dad: “I wondered why this huge city would have only one post office. People. Sheesh.”

All of us together: “Where are you from?”

Them: “We’re from Idaho and our daughter here has been serving in the Peace Corps in Mozambique, so we figured this would be a great place to meet all together.”

More chatting between us about the weather here in Lisbon (they are loving it as it’s below zero back home), etc. We walked up to my bus stop saying a quick goodbye and have fun as I hopped up on the bus of the number I was looking for only this time I asked the driver before paying: “Calavária?”  He then pointed across the street saying quickly in Portuguese that the bus to Calvário is on the other side. Well, 3rd time is a charm. Here I go. “Obrigado!” (Ooops, forgot the “a” again. I’m supposed to say “obrigada.”)

So there I was, 1.5-hours later going the right way to the Calvário stop where I would find (25-minutes later) both a post office (which turned out to be a post office, bank, and 4 shelves of  books for sale all in one) with the entrance to the LX Factory just a 3-min walk from the post-bank-books to the restaurant whose name I had already forgotten. Damn. I was famished and thirsty.

When I arrived, I found a splendid playground well worth the wait! I stopped at the first super fun/artsy restaurant I found and sat outside near a fab heat lamp and ordered a beer. WOOF, they brought me a beer!   Someone knew I was thirsty! Reward! Now here’s a pedestal I’d like to see with some females on it! Where are all the statues of the mulhers importantes in Portugal? I ordered the Praça burger (house special) that was heavenly with lots of different sautéed veggies on it (candied onions, mushrooms, zucchini, carrots) and pesto sauce along with their house-made chips that were a delight. YUM! ( I could not finish that beer after eating the meal but I got 3/4 through it.)

THEN I WALKED AROUND. WHAT A PLACE!

First I walked into the restaurant I had eaten at A Praça do Lisboa to use the loo and found the interior delightful.  And since I heard a band while I ate not far off playing covers from the 80’s and 90’s, I had to find them first to check them out:  The outside area was crowded with people sitting at tables talking and drinking beer and wine but the odd thing I noticed was when the band finished one of the songs, I was the only one clapping. Oh. They don’t clap for musicians here? Odd…  I walked on.

And then I came upon this! My favorite new bookstore in one glance: Ler Devagar Bookstore (check this out):

I looked around some more to walk off the meal noticing that a lot more people were arriving as this is obviously a thriving scene for a Friday night that is not the ordinary fare in Lisbon. Just as I found myself outside of the LX Factory at night wondering where to catch the bus and really not wanting to try to find a stop, I saw a man leaning against a TukTuk.  He extended his hand toward the vehicle saying, “Where would you like to go? Have you tried a TukTuk?” I had seen these all over town and wondered about them. They are literally a 3-wheel motorcycle with a plastic tent around them to keep you warm at night and likely out of the rain if the weather turns. I was hesitant. He explained that he could take me anywhere I’d like to go for 10-Euros which is far less than the normal price as he must put the TukTuk away in the garage in the next one-and-a-half hours. He could also show me some special places. Well, they are a licensed group. I know they are safe, and I really didn’t want to try the bus fiasco again. So, I hopped in. He zipped me all in as if we were camping with him in the front and me in the 2-seater bench in the rear with seatbelts.  “My name is Carlos. What is yours?” We chatted for a bit about San Francisco because he cackled when I said I was from SF: “San Francisco! It’s the same as Lisboa! Bridges! Hills! Lots of people!” But then added, “But America has gone crazy, no? What has happened to the brains of the people?” I explained that one of the reasons I was here on this trip was to find a new place to live (someday) and that Portugal is one of my top choices. He told me he knows people here who have homes to rent and sell. He will give me names. At one point he asked, “Are you in a rush? If not, I have a great pastelaria to show you!”

I was game. Let’s go! We stopped and had a Pastel de Natal (much more delicious than the one I had in the morning) which were made by the hour in the place he brought me to. I bought us both one and added an espresso to sip. The third bite in, he said, “Oh! You must meet my friend Claudia who owns a shop near where you are staying. Let’s go pay her a visit and then I take you home. She owns some properties.” I was still delighting in the custard pastry and one last sip of espresso. He was right. It was a treat! We then scooted a few more streets over (he was a deft driver at one point squeezing between a car and a truck in a space I thought far too narrow to get through with no problem.) He parked quickly and we hopped out. The shop was so beautiful, lit by amber light containing numerous wonderful old things everywhere. I stopped at a journal made of a vinyl record for the front and back cover. Oh, universe! What have you done? I looked at Carlos: “I am a huge fan of vinyl records, Carlos. How did you know?” As I looked at him smiling, I saw high above his head a wall covered with actual records that were artistically cut into various scenes: one of a silhouette of Alfred Hitchcock with an old movie camera next to him seated in a Director’s chair, several of iconic images of Lisbon, and one that caught my attention quickly– the silhouette of a saxophonist and guitarist jamming together.  I told Claudia that I have vinyl records all over the walls of my office at school. She said, “It seems you need one more to place with the others.” Indeed!

That’s Carlos Bonito and me with Claudia in the back. She doesn’t like being in pictures. And here are the (not one but two) pieces of cut vinyl I bought after Claudia explained the deep meaning of “saudade” which has no translation she said in any language but something like this: a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. (I found this online as she couldn’t quite find the words to express the depth of the meaning of the word.) It seemed the perfect bookend to the thoughts I had when I awoke this morning that felt so long ago. What a day and night in Lisbon!

Nine Hours of Exploration with Being Lost as a Theme I awoke with the feeling of longing today to know a father I was never given the chance to meet.

[anneedmonds]

Life Update: Christmas Is Not A Holiday

Happy New Year everyone! I wasn’t supposed to be back at work until at least the 7th January (preferably the 14th) but then I remembered that my life update goes out on the third of every month and my superstitious nature won’t let me bend the rules and postpone it.

So here I am, popping back, most likely for a rant about Christmas hospitality and the pointlessness of turkey but also to tell you how many times my children have sneezed and/or coughed directly into my mouth since we last spoke on the 23rd December.

Seven times.

I have also been ridden like a horse whilst trying to scrub stains from the living room carpet, had my eyes poked when I’ve least expected it in a new game that seems to be called “EYES! MOUTH! MAMA!” and accidentally stuck my hand into a nappy filled with yellow poo.

Why do we ever think that Christmas is going to be a holiday? A break? Christmas is not a holiday.

Yes it’s different, because it’s noisy and pine-scented and we have visitors and it’s all jolly and festive and we get to spend unadulterated, unbroken time with our families or children; but at the same time it’s actually harder work than being at proper work. It’s noisy, it’s pine-scented, there are visitors, constant streams of them, and we have to spend unadulterated, unbroken time with our families or children. Hohoho.

I’m bloody knackered, I tell you. I’m knackered and I just want to go to the toilet on my own for more than eighteen seconds. Some things just can’t be achieved in eighteen seconds and it starts to play havoc with your insides. Especially if your insides are formed of 76% hard cheese and 24% Lindt. And that’s another thing; it’ll take me virtually until next Christmas to be able to wear any of my normal clothes – I’m currently housed in a maternity kimono because I can’t pull on my trousers past my knees and all of my jumpers and tops suddenly look (very unfashionably) cropped. I’ve been hovering over the “buy” button on Me+Em because they have loads of slouchy tracksuit bottoms in the sale but really I should just stop eating chocolate truffles for lunch (eleven truffles = substantial energy boost) and then I could just wear the stuff I already own. Which would make more sense.

The thing is (whispers): I don’t even really like Christmas food. A bit of turkey with some cranberry sauce and gravy all floating within the world’s biggest Yorkshire pudding and that would do me. And before you all gasp in horror that I would dare to have Yorkshire pudding on Christmas day and not strictly with beef then let me remind you that a Yorkshire pudding is pretty much the only element of a roast dinner that’s worth eating. Everything else is just boring old fare you could have at any time – carrots? Oh, woo-hoo. Brussel sprouts? Don’t even get me started on them. They’re a form of punishment and not a vegetable.

Red cabbage is just a fancy, more prettily-coloured way to dole out cigar-flavoured slop and I can’t honestly see the point in slaving away over roast potatoes, spooning goose fat over them every six-point-two-five minutes precisely (Mr AMR) and then triple-roasting them in a colander with a blow-torch and a fire extinguisher or whatever it is that goes on. I’d rather have mash. In fact, next year that’s what I’m going to have. Chicken and mash. The chicken will be juicier than the turkey, the mash will require less effort than the roasted potatoes (although Mr AMR will actually divorce me) and we can have some garden peas on the side. Job done.

Less washing up, at any rate. None of the trays and dishes and gravy jugs and other bits and pieces that you don’t use at all for the other 364 days of the year ever fit into the dishwasher, which means that you actually have to use the sink, and the trays and dishes and gravy jugs just keep on coming. The grease! The burnt-on bits of stuff! It’s enough to make you want to have a long lie down…

I have to say though; Angelica and Ted have been an absolute joy. Even at the meltdown times when we’ve all had cabin fever and got a bit shouty, they’ve been great value for money. Angelica understood what Christmas was this year – including the part about Baby Cheeses, which I think must be Baby Jesus, which is something they must have discussed at nursery at great length because she knows all about a thief in the market being a bad man and Baby Cheeses being a good man.

Any man called Baby Cheeses is going to be a good man, to be fair; you’re not going to be a villain with a name like that.

“Bow down before me, mortals!”

“Oh God, Simon, it’s that dark overlord the angels warned us about! The one who’ll lead us into temptation and basically get us all killed!”

“Bow down before me and prepare to meet thy destiny, wretched, putrid people of the earth!”

“Oh Simon, what are we to do? He’s hideous! His face is a mass of worms and his arms are made of snakes!”

“Rub your faces into the soil, mortals, and brace yourselves for an eternity of pain and suffering, for I am Baby Cheeses!”

It just wouldn’t work.

Other malapropisms from Angelica:

“Mummy, please warm up my pyjamas on the alligator.” / “Mummy I’ve dropped my colouring book down the back of the alligator!” And my favourite of the moment, “colesnore” instead of “coleslaw”.

Ted (a month shy of being two years old) is making a hell of a lot of racket but there are no new properly-formed words yet – we have Dada, Mama, Gaga (Angelica), Bear (Mr Bear), Woof Woof (Dexter) and Vroom (car), but everything else is still a bit of an aural blur. Weirdly, Angelica seems to know exactly what he’s saying at all times and so acts as a translator, even though she’s learnt to bend her translations to suit her own needs.

“What’s he saying, Angelica?”

“Ted says he wants to share a gingerbread man with me Mummy!”

Life with two small children seems to sometimes be a relentless carousel of providing snacks, mopping up spilt drinks, shouting “I said DON’T CLIMB ON THAT!” and picking Paw Patrol stickers from the woodwork. When some friends visited just before Christmas with their own children, I realised that the adults were all dancing around the children’s dinner table like medieval servers or jesters. Passing cups, wiping spills, fetching more meat or distracting one of them so that the other could retrieve their fork or spoon without starting a small diplomatic catastrophe. Even the dog slunk around under the table catching bits of fallen bacon fat or potato, looking like a baron’s hound returned from a hunt.

But I have to say that as I saw in the New Year (entirely sober, on the sofa, eating a Mint Magnum) I realised that there isn’t a single thing I want more than this – I have absolutely everything I need within the four walls of my house. Of course, to stay sane and for personal fulfilment there are scores of work goals and other bits and pieces I’d like to manage (and obviously we need money to keep the four walls around us from crumbling down and to eat) but on a fundamental, “meaning of life” sort of level, I had a kind of epiphany. The children were sleeping upstairs, Mr AMR was flicking between Netflix, Amazon Prime and Now TV in the annoying way that makes me want to smash him over the top of the head with a griddle pan and the dog and cat were lying in front of the fire, and I just had an overwhelming sensation of calm. This is it, I thought. This is what I’ve been waiting for.

Anyway, then I got a text from Google saying that someone from Milton Keynes had attempted to access my Youtube account and then I suddenly realised I’d left the damp washing in the washing machine for six whole days so that killed the mood somewhat, but for a few seconds, everything was completely right with the world. My stars had aligned, or whatever the phrase is. Hopefully my Dad was up there with the stars, aligning them, probably really moodily, shouting at them in his broad Scottish accent (“Get tae f*ck ye stupid stars with ye stupid bright blindin’ lights!”) and I would have preferred for him to have been somewhat closer, but you can’t have everything you wish for. No matter how hard you wish for it.

Right, that’s me until next week. This was just a brief pop-in because a) I can’t ever be late with a Life Update  post and b) I didn’t want you all to forget me. Our nanny started back today (I’ve actually increased the days from two to three days a week for a few months because I have a huge project I’m finishing off) and so I’m going to do really relaxing things like tidy and sort out the airing cupboard and find the missing statements that my accountant needs. I’m actually missing Ted and Angelica, even though I can hear them in the distance, bashing the ride-on plastic car into the kitchen cabinets and slamming the doors – isn’t it funny how you can feel so overwhelmed one minute, desperate for just the shortest of breaks, and then so needy and guilty the next?

Tell me about your Christmas “breaks” and “holidays”: has anyone actually managed to relax? Because I’m beginning to remember Christmas life pre-kids and that wasn’t any less hectic either: as the most portable, flexible adults, we were required to do what was known as the Festive Tour, which meant driving around the UK like lunatics stopping off at various friends’ and relatives’ houses to sleep on camp beds and sofa pull-outs. And loads and loads of sustained, low-level alcohol consumption, rather like at a wedding, so that we were never fully pissed but just always kind of groggy and blurry and tired. I used to get to January 2nd and feel as though I needed to take a bath in Berocca and now I feel the same but for very different reasons! Tell me all: I await your anecdotal material with a level of enthusiasm that’s not quite proper.

The post Life Update: Christmas Is Not A Holiday appeared first on A Model Recommends.

Life Update: Christmas Is Not A Holiday was first posted on January 3, 2019 at 12:05 pm. ©2018 "A Model Recommends". Use of this feed is for personal non-commercial use only. If you are not reading this article in your feed reader, then the site is guilty of copyright infringement. Please contact me at contact@amodelrecommends.com Life Update: Christmas Is Not A Holiday published first on https://medium.com/@SkinAlley

[my-villain-academia-blog]

[4]

It was a silent car ride home. Rin hadn’t met Kenji’s wife before nor had she been to their house. “Can I ask what he talked to you about or is that off the table? woof” Kenji tried to cut through the awkwardness between them. It was hard to adjust to suddenly getting a new family. Rin didn’t want to push away the memories of her parents. But it truly felt like to her that they were still here. They were waiting for her somewhere. “He told me not to tell you” Rin muttered, placing her head on her hand while she stared out the window. “I see...” Kenji seems anxious once again. He had no idea what they talked about or what they were planning. He wanted to do his best for Rin as a favour to Gunslinger but she wouldn’t tell him anything. Even if this was confidential. The light went red and the car stopped. Kenji turned behind him quickly and picked up a plastic bag. There was Iced Coffee inside of it. He grabbed it and passed the bag to Rin. “Thought you might be hungry so I went and got some food while you were talking to the Chief” he smiled. Rin was confused. “When did you have time to go and get food? We weren’t that long”. Kenji gave her a glare and muttered “I was hungry”. Rin opened the bag. There was another iced coffee and a small chocolate cake. ‘Was there a cafe or is he trying to get rid of his lunch?’ Rin thought. ‘Wait he’s technically a dog, chocolate would kill him’. She snickered while she twisted the cap off her drink. 

It was silent after that until Kenji pulled up to his house. It was an old-fashioned looking cottage with a neat garden outside of it. There was a wooden fence surrounding it. “Here we are! Home sweet home” Kenji sighed with relief. He was happy to go home after such an eventful week. “Is your wife nice?” Rin said as she sipped some more of her iced coffee. “She’s wonderful. I’ll warn you though she is a bit lovey woof” Kenji had a look of disappointment on his face. ‘Maybe he can’t get a break when he gets home from work’ Rin thought. “Nothing I can’t handle” Rin said while opening her door. She wanted to act like everything was okay for Kenji. She felt as if she was replacing her family with another. Her heart ached and she wanted to cry but she had to at least hold it until she had her own room. She didn’t want either of them to worry. The two walked to the door. Kenji unlocked it and they walked in. His home was very white. It was neatly furnished 1 story house. Rin walked in to see another dog person in a dress. ‘...He married a dog... why didn’t I see that coming' Rin thought. She placed her hand on her eyes. “Hello Rin. My name is Maria. It’s lovely to meet you” before Rin could respond Maria had walked up to her and hugged her. Rin couldn’t breathe while Maria hugged her. “Jesus Christ she’s strong” Rin managed to get out of mouth. She looked at Kenji who was looking the other way almost embarrassed at his wife’s behaviour. “Sorry!” Maria yelped as she let go on Rin. “I’m just so excited to have my own child. Well not really my own child but to take care of you! I always loved Alira and Arthur. Game night was the best thing to look forward to in the week when they were police officers. Man, I just can’t believe what happened. Are you okay hun? What food do you like? Do you have any plans this week? When are you going back to school?” Maria bombarded Rin with questions. Kenji sighed and stepped in before Rin had time to respond. “Don’t overload the kid Maria. She’s still processing everything” he said, placing his paw on Rin’s head. Maria smiled and gestured Rin to follow her. 

They walked down a large hallway until the last room on the left was visible. It was a massive room with a double bed, a desk, two windows and family photos scattered through it. “It’s our spare bedroom but it’ll do for now before you make it your own, you know woof?” Maria said smiling. ‘God, she does the woof thing too’ Rin thought in disbelief. They were dogs. Maria left the room. Rin realised some of her old stuff was here. On the bed was Gunslinger’s old jacket. It was his favourite and he wore it as a hero costume. It was a black trench coat with a collar which had chains and pockets scattered all through it. It was somewhat tattered. She put it on. It was bigger than her, but it was warm and comforting. Best of all it still smelt like Gunslinger. Next to it was a mechanical glove. It was just the exoskeleton of metal parts but she remembered Gunslinger using it to use electricity to stun opponents. He had made it when she was little and she had a fond memory of him being excited to show her how it worked. Both of them were grounded for a week by Alira after that. Rin chuckled. She took a look around to see what else was in the room. She walked over to her new desk and looked at the very same photograph Rin had been staring at the other night. She looked at it and saw how happy they were together. She took her family for granted. She remembered their faces. How their eyes had no life in them. How her mother said to run. If she had been quiet maybe Alira could have ran. She couldn’t stop it or beat them. Rin blamed herself until finally, she broke and fell to the floor. She stared to cry and held her hand to her mouth to stop herself from being so loud. ‘I hate him. Buster or whatever the fuck his name was took everything from me. They didn’t deserve this’ Rin thought. ‘FUCK’. She slammed her hand against the desk. It had left a dint when she pulled her hand away. “Rin” Kenji said standing in the doorway. She didn’t look at him. She was angry. She was angry the last memory she had was them motionless. It was burnt into her mind. Kenji said nothing but stood behind her. He held out his paw. “We’re having the funeral tomorrow. I just want to make sure you know I’m here for you” he spoke softly. She wiped her face and sniffed. She grabbed his paw and he pulled her in for a hug. Rin hugged him back. In the back of the mind a thought appeared. I don’t want to lose him too. He stroked her head and smiled. “Maria has dinner for us, let’s go eat, yeah?” He knew he couldn’t magically make it better or make her forget but... if he stayed strong and didn’t show any weakness then maybe Rin could be stronger too. They both walked out and sat down at the kitchen table.

Maria had made them steak and mash potato. Maria was telling Kenji off about something at work and they were jokingly arguing. It was obvious they were very in love with each other. They were still young. Rin’s parents had to be older than the both of them but had met through the police force. Rin couldn’t smile and could barely eat. She didn’t feel any motivation to do anything. She just poked her mash with her fork. “You don’t have to eat it love, just tell me when you’re done woof” Maria smiled at Rin. “Excuse me, I think I want to sleep for a bit. I’m a little exhausted” Rin sighed. “Thank you for dinner”. She didn’t want to be rude to Maria and Kenji’s kindness, but she didn’t have an appetite for anything. She didn’t want to be anywhere. She laid on her bed and stared at the ceiling. A tear ran down her cheek. “I just want to sleep and never wake up” Rin said, closing her eyes. 

It was dark. She felt nothing. Being asleep was the greatest feeling. She would feel nothing. It was obvious she was having a dream, but something felt wrong. “Why did you let them die bitch?” a voice said. Rin jumped. ‘What was that’ she thought. “Did you not hear me? Did Alira really think I was going to get along with a snotty brat like you?” Rin looked down to see a small creature below her. It was black with long horns like a ram. It had sharp teeth and a large tail. It was scaly but somehow fluffy and had spikes on its back. Rin put her foot on its head as it raised its arms to fight. “What the hell are you supposed to be?” She said. “None of your business bitch” it replied pushing her foot off of it. It suddenly started to grow until everything around her was darker than before. Its eyes were blood red. It stared at her. “You’re Atlas then?” Rin spoke trying to seem like she wasn’t scared of him. “I am, and you and I are stuck together for eternity. Great” he let out a long groan. “I’m sick of being placed inside of people. I want to be free. Listen here kid, your body is now mine which means if I want something. I’m getting it” Rin replied almost instantly “Ha! You think you own me? Aren’t I your master now?” There was a pause while Atlas stared at her. He squinted his eyes and took a deep breath. “You are an arrogant piece of shit” he said, staring deeper into her soul. Rin was terrified of this creature, but she didn’t let her guard down. “Whenever you sleep is the time where we can be face to face. That’s also why Alira didn’t sleep. She wanted to stay the hell away from us” It raised its head above Rin more. It was almost like it was showing dominance. “What are you exactly?” Rin nervously spoke. She wanted to find out as much as she could before she woke up. “Listen kid let’s cut the shit. I was a person once many years ago. It has to be thousands by now. I died because I saved someone I loved. The bitch then went and married some dude straight after. I killed villages and cities for her and this was the thanks I got. I became a spirit to haunt that bitch and kill her. That’s what I did. I murdered her in cold blood by taking over her lover’s body. It was simply hilarious”. Rin gulped as Atlas spoke. It seemed to have no remorse and he seemed happy with the ending. “I made sure to eat her after that too. Listen now what you eat goes to me too. So, make sure to eat okay? Or I’ll force you to go and rip someone’s flesh off” Atlas laughed. Rin started to shake more than before. “I had an ability that you all call quirks now. I always had it in secret. I had the ability to copy other abilities. I loved to murder people” Atlas started to smile. Its teeth had blood stains on it. “I heard you wanted revenge on that man. I hated Alira but even so, it was enough of a bitch having to get used to all those spirits. Now I have to get used to a little kid. I want blood to be spilled. Let’s get revenge. How about we swap quirks? Your quirk is useless anyways. I will help you get your revenge” Rin was shocked. “I can’t understand your motive here Atlas” Rin said confused at why the monster would help her. “I want people to die” he replied “If you don’t want my help, I really don’t care. I’m just going to wait until you get killed so I can be released” Rin stood there not know what to do or say. This thing swore and was a psychopath. It could however get her to her goal. She could be stronger with his help. To lose her humanity doing it though. She didn’t know if it was worth it.

“I guess I’ll-” Rin went to speak and woke up. Her neck burned, and she started to choke. She looked around and saw a figure over her. It was choking her. It must have been Atlas. She tried to scream and fight, but she couldn’t. It smiled and said in both her voice and his “I want them dead”. It was definitely Atlas. Rin finally could control her body and moved forward. Atlas was gone. Her body ached, and her arm felt like it was burning. Her veins started to turn black and her arm had cracks of dark energy through it. “This is corruption” Atlas spoke. He wasn’t in the room but they still must have been together. “You will die without me”. Rin blacked out.

She opened her eyes. It was morning. She looked down at her arm to see only her wrist had had small black lines through her veins. She was sweating and her heart was beating fast. “I swear this is just a coincidence and it was all just a really bad dream” she said. However, she was curious if she had a new quirk. It seemed way to convenient. She couldn’t understand the motives behind it.

[thepetloverfan]

Can You Tell Who Is The Alpha Dog Is When You Own Two Dogs

Can You Tell Who Is The Alpha Dog Is When You Own Two Dogs

I've. The reddish and bright feminine (Cassie)is nearly two and spayed. The aficionado man (Peanut) is just one yr old and neutered. Peanut was saved from the cocker protection in March of 1999. He's incredibly dedicated, fast student and an excellent audience. As he really wants to please he's the perfect canine. Cassie about the other-hand may be the many impartial and persistent puppy I've actually withstood (you have possibly noticed worse). When she desired but I've placed an end to that particular she used-to just pay attention to instructions. I've experienced issues that were several of her habits that were dominating but came quite a distance. I am today viewed by her while the just and leader shows hostility when she's in discomfort - mainly after she is brushed by me. And it has skin that was poor. Although when I believe, I will sort out that one using the utilization of working out collar this isn't my issue.

INTERJECTS: it is incredibly challenging to fix discomfort-reaction hostility. It is more of the response than other things. Make use of the snout if you want to provide her pictures and limit your dog. Additional occasions (just-so that she does not develop a damaging affiliation towards the muzzle) use it, go down, after which provide her a dessert. Do that on occasions that are random.

BETH PROCEEDS: Cassie shows lots of prominence hostility toward Peanut. She growls when they attempt to get a bone near her so when they perform (or battle), she'll "difficulty" them. Peanut only does not appear to have it although I usually nourish her first, provide her goodies first, dog her first. He'll walk-through the. Whenever we stroll outside, he's usually one mind duration in front of her. Additional, I believe he's currently attempting to problem her since the enjoying period recently has converted into battling. It is more woofing than something -- up to now, there have been zero bloodstreams. Nevertheless, Cassie often is pinning him towards the floor, and they allow away this woofingORyelping sound when she produces, they move immediately after her till it breaks up.

She additionally shows precisely the same hostility toward the kitty. When the kitty makes her "region" when the kitty actually strolls by among her bones or when she's comfy before the fireplace she goes insane. The kitty is chased by her absent using rapidly operating after her and barking.

INTERJECTS AGAIN: this conduct can be corrected by You. She'll discover to not pursue the kitty in the home.

BETH PROCEEDS: Therefore listed here is the query that is large. What do I actually do? Do we continue steadily to handle Cassie during the subsequent within the bunch? Do we allow these battle it away? Do regarding pursuing the kitty we continue regularly to reprimand her? ASSIST!

Any guidance you are able to provide is likely to be significantly valued. The guide is excellent incidentally...

Cheers for that query.

There's ONE large stage you are not conceptualizing. You may be dominating to each canine. Or you may be overlooking to just one canine. Or you may be considered the Rr canine (the absolute most submissive one) by each canine.

Nevertheless, you CAn't manage how one another is viewed by your canines. This can be a subject I Have discussed in previous problems of my ezine. I am likely to publish it to the advantage:

A customer posted: "Cheers, Adam. I believe the clear answer came across by me. AWe decide who'll function as the alpha dog.' Proper? "

" No no! You can't do that! It is !! that is difficult!

The canines temperaments are natural. Just you may decide by being DOMINATING if you should be dominant towards the additional canines. However, you can't function away from it regarding these.

It is possible to manage the canines actions and never permit any scuffles if you:

- would be the alpha dog within the bunch.

and

- you've voice-control.

But the moment anyone venture out for lunch and depart the canines collectively... Most wagers are off. The one that is dominating it's still the one that is dominating.

Of going for some several kiddies think.

Child# 1 may develop to be always an Admiral, after which a Fast Close.

Child# 2 may develop to be always a criminal-defense lawyer that is intense.

Child# 3 may develop to be always a middle-management govt to get a company that is big.

Child# 4: may develop to be always a socialist along with a peace activist.

Today, whenever the home every single day is left by you regarding function, you might state, "Child# 4... You are in control." And provided that you are about, Child# 4 could get the rights to be the unchallenged" top-dog.

But the moment anyone departs...

It is likely to be considered a because kid number 4 and kid number 3 are likely to function as the canines that are base, and kid number 2 and kid Number 1 may discard-it-away to determine who's honestly the "top-dog." The genes (and also to some degree, childhood-- based upon how old they are) decides this. However, it may be the hardest child who'll get to be the team chief.

He'll check childNumber 1 despite the fact that kid Number 2 might be pretty tricky in their own correct... but may eventually shed... as child number 1 is also tricky.

Today, if kid it has in which to stay mattress and gets ill, next kid number 2 becomes the brand new kid number 1.

Entirely only, the "alpha dog."

Before you get a house. Then you definitely are the dog that is a leader, and they become the dog.

Have it?

Beth, you have explained your canines relationships... As if you've got an issue it generally does not audio in my experience. It seems the same as may be, or perform several prominence scuffles. Nevertheless, without viewing the canines, personally, it is challenging to inform without a doubt.

via Blogger http://ift.tt/2BeaLW3

[gulescamisade]

The UU:  Day 4

JINJIN: -Currently grilling Sawtooth about the whereabouts of her parents-

JINJIN: bwuh! 3B0

SAWTOOTH: =beatboxes at her while stacking these blocks=

JINJIN: -Unacceptable! Knocks down the blocks. WHERE ARE THEY!-

JINJIN: bah bah bo wah!

SAWTOOTH: =Stares at her with his faceplate, plays back a trap remix of her "bah bah bo wah" = 👍

JINJIN: -...impressive, metal man. Impressive.-

JINJIN: bwuh.

PORRIM: -watching this, sleepily... she's got colt in her arms because he's being extra needy.- COLT: -PERPETUALLY WHINING.- :'(

SAWTOOTH: =He can give her a break, at least with Colt but there are at least 20 other babies=

JINJIN: -Cuz, chill out. I'm gonna get our parents back. This metal man is the key, I'm sure of it.-

PORRIM: -she's got this, she swears.-

SIRIUS: =she's gazing out one of the portholes. When will my family return from the war? Also are they moving? What interesting things are outside?=

SAWTOOTH: =Sirius isn't hurting anyone in looking out the window, he also pinged up some kitchen bots. It's lunch time kiddos.=

JINJIN: -Colts whining is making her irritable but also making her sad too. She crawls over to Porrim and Colt. Gently paps a hand on his face.- bwuh.

COLT: Ehhh... -looks at her with puppy dog eyes- :C

JINJIN: bah bwo. -It's cool little dude. It's okay.-

CITRIN: -APPEARS. he has a juice box and half a sandwich from sawtooth.- halo col. halo jiji.

CITRIN: -puts his chin on colt and starts chirring for him- COLT: -sniffs... starts to calm down a little-

SAWTOOTH: =thumbs up at Citrin from afar=

JINJIN: suh cit. -Keeps rubbing Colt-

PORRIM: -they're so cute... what good babies...-

COLT: Hhh... -closes his eyes-

JINJIN: -Leans over and gives him a baby kiss-

COLT: -smacks lips back at her in an attempt at a kiss...-

JINJIN: -Now go to sleep, I've got sandwiches to eat. Citrin, we're gonna find our parents-(edited)

JOEL: -Oh. Oh hell no. Now Joel is awake and SCREAMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Rip Porrim.-

RUSSET: -Sad chirps at her sad noisy nephews.- =8(

FINN: -looks very concerned about joel-

COLT: -NOW HE'S CRYING EVEN MORE.-

PORRIM: Uugggh.

JOEL: -On the plus side, he's got big lungs for sure.-

SIRIUS: =she crawls up to them and places a hand on Joel's cheek=

SIRIUS: (there there)

SIRIUS: =Gently begins to glow as she sings "twinkle, twinkle little star"=

FINN: -how do people help him stop crying...hmmm...- sokay sokay you good

DAMARA: =Why babies must cry??? She's here also because no way she is letting Porrim do all of this on her own.=

DAMARA: =Airlifts Blob with her kinetics to have the big fluffy dog gently hover about.=

DAMARA: SPACE MAGIC DOG. LIKES TO FLY. SEND THE TEARS AWAY WITH THE MAGICING TONGUE. SECRET OF HIS FLIGHT.

BLOB: =Is airhovered over to the crying Joel and gives him a lick. Blep... Licks Finn and Sirius too.=

SIRIUS; (eheheheheheheh)

DAMARA: NO CRY. HOW CAN TRAVEL IN SPACE WITH TEARS? CANNOT DO.

DAMARA: IS LAUGHTER AND SMILES. BEST ENERGY FOR THIS PURPOSE.

BLOB: =The gentlest boof you could possibly imagine.=

FINN: -yells at blob in a happy way- hola bob

JOEL: -fusses A LOT. His face screwed up with much unhappiness.-

COLT: -HHHHHHH. watery eyes focus on the flying fluff. he likes it, but he's too busy being upset.-

PORRIM: -at least the other kids are distracted... she's very thankful for this-

SIRIUS: (shhhhhhhhhh) =Gently cheek smoosh=

SIRIUS: (up uhbove the worl so high)

SIRIUS: (like a dia-mund in the sky)

FINN: -follows sirius's lead except goes to colt and doesn't sing.- sokay you good

PORRIM: ... -internal weeping about these babies-

PORRIM: Thank yo+u two+. Yo+u're do+ing a go+o+d jo+b. COLT: :'(

SIRIUS: :D

SIRIUS: =glows proudly=

FINN: -he likes it when he has his hand held so he just goes to hold colt's hand as well- bueno -that will help-

COLT: -hhhh... squeezes one of finn's fingers gently-

DAMARA: =Turns Blob around in the air and makes his fur even more poofy. Just gentle hovering around in circles and up and down.=

BLOB: =Is a good boy. Wagging his tail throughout while having the expression of a tired gentle dog that he is.=

DAMARA: =Internal sweating since she's not good with kids.=

PORRIM: -smiles over at her. you're doing good too bb-

SIRIUS: =at the floating doggie=

SIRIUS: (good boy)

SIRIUS: (good blobby)

SILEAS: -Crawling out from under whatever piece of furniture he was hiding under to cling to Damara's leg. She smells like dog.-(edited)

FINN: -smiles at colt and just holds his hand. IT IS OKAY TO SMILE-

DAMARA: =Smiles lopsidedly in return with a shrug of one shoulder. She's maybe clueless but at least she's not terrified of "corrupting" kids anymore. She makes a little "oof" sound when there's suddenly someone on her leg.= ...HELLO.

DAMARA: HAS HE COME TO BECOME DOG SPACE MAN?

DAMARA: FOLLOW IN BLOB STEPS? B

LOB: =He wags his tail more at Sirius' praise and hearing his name. He boof soft and goes in for more friendly face licks.=

FINN: -points to damara like he's showing her to colt-

SILEAS: -Chirrs at her, nuzzling his cheek against her leg.-

SILEAS: Mhh...... YES!!!

SILEAS: -He has no idea what he is agreeing to but she said dog.-

DAMARA: =...=

DAMARA: =...Chirrs back.=

DAMARA: THEN HE GO. BECOME THE SPACE DOG. IS HIM. =Reaches down to pick him up.=

SILEAS: -Hes going up!! Hes going to blindly reach for her hair.-(edited)

SIRIUS: (woo-f)

DAMARA: =Up he goes!!! And she walks to the soothing baby group.=

DAMARA: =Reaches to boop Sirius' nose.= WOOF.

DAMARA: IS ALL NOW BECOMING SPACE DOG? WILL JOIN IN QUEST FOR CHEER?

SIRIUS: =claps softly= (yes yes)

DAMARA: THEN THEY GO. NOW. TO SPACE. BECOME THE SPACED DOGS OF DREAMS. =Starts kinetic floating every baby... Every baby is now an astronaut dog. The time for dreams is now.=

BLOB: =Is gently floated in the middle of all the kids. Soft boofs and moving of his legs as if he was swimming.=

SIRIUS: =she's flying! it's just like magic!=

[thepetloverfan]

Can You Tell Who Is The Alpha Dog Is When You Own Two Dogs I've. The reddish and bright feminine (Cassie)is nearly two and spayed. The aficionado man (Peanut) is just one yr old and neutered. Peanut was saved from the cocker protection in March of 1999. He's incredibly dedicated, fast student and an excellent audience. As he really wants to please he's the perfect canine. Cassie about the other-hand may be the many impartial and persistent puppy I've actually withstood (you have possibly noticed worse). When she desired but I've placed an end to that particular she used-to just pay attention to instructions. I've experienced issues that were several of her habits that were dominating but came quite a distance. I am today viewed by her while the just and leader shows hostility when she's in discomfort - mainly after she is brushed by me. And it has skin that was poor. Although when I believe, I will sort out that one using the utilization of working out collar this isn't my issue. INTERJECTS: it is incredibly challenging to fix discomfort-reaction hostility. It is more of the response than other things. Make use of the snout if you want to provide her pictures and limit your dog. Additional occasions (just-so that she does not develop a damaging affiliation towards the muzzle) use it, go down, after which provide her a dessert. Do that on occasions that are random. BETH PROCEEDS: Cassie shows lots of prominence hostility toward Peanut. She growls when they attempt to get a bone near her so when they perform (or battle), she'll "difficulty" them. Peanut only does not appear to have it although I usually nourish her first, provide her goodies first, dog her first. He'll walk-through the. Whenever we stroll outside, he's usually one mind duration in front of her. Additional, I believe he's currently attempting to problem her since the enjoying period recently has converted into battling. It is more woofing than something -- up to now, there have been zero bloodstreams. Nevertheless, Cassie often is pinning him towards the floor, and they allow away this woofingORyelping sound when she produces, they move immediately after her till it breaks up. She additionally shows precisely the same hostility toward the kitty. When the kitty makes her "region" when the kitty actually strolls by among her bones or when she's comfy before the fireplace she goes insane. The kitty is chased by her absent using rapidly operating after her and barking. INTERJECTS AGAIN: this conduct can be corrected by You. She'll discover to not pursue the kitty in the home. BETH PROCEEDS: Therefore listed here is the query that is large. What do I actually do? Do we continue steadily to handle Cassie during the subsequent within the bunch? Do we allow these battle it away? Do regarding pursuing the kitty we continue regularly to reprimand her? ASSIST! Any guidance you are able to provide is likely to be significantly valued. The guide is excellent incidentally... Cheers for that query. There's ONE large stage you are not conceptualizing. You may be dominating to each canine. Or you may be overlooking to just one canine. Or you may be considered the Rr canine (the absolute most submissive one) by each canine. Nevertheless, you CAn't manage how one another is viewed by your canines. This can be a subject I Have discussed in previous problems of my ezine. I am likely to publish it to the advantage: A customer posted: "Cheers, Adam. I believe the clear answer came across by me. AWe decide who'll function as the alpha dog.' Proper? " " No no! You can't do that! It is !! that is difficult! The canines temperaments are natural. Just you may decide by being DOMINATING if you should be dominant towards the additional canines. However, you can't function away from it regarding these. It is possible to manage the canines actions and never permit any scuffles if you: - would be the alpha dog within the bunch. and - you've voice-control. But the moment anyone venture out for lunch and depart the canines collectively... Most wagers are off. The one that is dominating it's still the one that is dominating. Of going for some several kiddies think. Child# 1 may develop to be always an Admiral, after which a Fast Close. Child# 2 may develop to be always a criminal-defense lawyer that is intense. Child# 3 may develop to be always a middle-management govt to get a company that is big. Child# 4: may develop to be always a socialist along with a peace activist. Today, whenever the home every single day is left by you regarding function, you might state, "Child# 4... You are in control." And provided that you are about, Child# 4 could get the rights to be the unchallenged" top-dog. But the moment anyone departs... It is likely to be considered a because kid number 4 and kid number 3 are likely to function as the canines that are base, and kid number 2 and kid Number 1 may discard-it-away to determine who's honestly the "top-dog." The genes (and also to some degree, childhood-- based upon how old they are) decides this. However, it may be the hardest child who'll get to be the team chief. He'll check childNumber 1 despite the fact that kid Number 2 might be pretty tricky in their own correct... but may eventually shed... as child number 1 is also tricky. Today, if kid it has in which to stay mattress and gets ill, next kid number 2 becomes the brand new kid number 1. Entirely only, the "alpha dog." Before you get a house. Then you definitely are the dog that is a leader, and they become the dog. Have it? Beth, you have explained your canines relationships... As if you've got an issue it generally does not audio in my experience. It seems the same as may be, or perform several prominence scuffles. Nevertheless, without viewing the canines, personally, it is challenging to inform without a doubt.

http://www.thepetlover.tk/2018/01/Alpha-Dog-When-Two-Dogs.html