#I wanted to do her more nuanced but my brain would not cooperate.

[byz-was-here]

A Sea Dirge

Hello Hello, back with another entry in the Sea Nomads of Aqua Magna series. This is the conclusion to the arc started in A Boat beneath a Sunny Sky. You can read it and the other stories in the masterpost (here). As always, the fic is under the cut, enjoy!

Perdix fought. The beast towered over him, glowing red eyes staring down over a fanged maw. The rumble from its throat echoed into the ground, traveling up his legs. He could feel blood trickling down the side of his face, under his helmet, cracked from the creature’s massive claws. He had run as long as he could, but now... he could run no more. For there was nothing but Perdix between the Tarakava and the maskless matoran behind him.

That Morning...

The matoran was silent as Perdix stepped off of her boat and onto the beach. She was one of Ga-Koro’s sailors if he remembered correctly. He couldn’t read the expression on her blue kakama, but... he sighed. “...Thank you.”

The matoran shrugged. “I had to pick up supplies anyway.” she said, tiredly.

Perdix looked away, the agori unsure of what to say. He had his helmet, a spear, a knife, and a bag with a few meagre supplies. He looked into the wet, lush forest beyond the sand, took a deep breath, and walked forwards.

From her spot on the skiff, Kai scratched at the side of her mask. “Why’s he goin through the jungle? I thought Nokama just told him to stay outta the Koro. Eh, not my brakas. Better get that load a’ rope from Amaya so Marka n’ I can start repairing the skiffs.”  she said to herself, watching the agori disappear between the trees.

There were no trees on the islet of Ag-Koro. Storms and frequent floods prevented them from taking root. Here, though... they grew tall enough and thick enough to blot out the sun, causing the understory to seem dim even in the bright morning sunlight. He walked, listening to the caws of strange birds overhead. These weren’t like the seabirds he knew from the coast, these were smaller, with colorful bright plumage blending into their metallic bodies. Not even a kio from the shore, it felt to Perdix like he had stepped onto another world. Strange creatures whooped overhead, and he spun, seeing them crash their way through the canopy overhead, moving too fast to see. By the time he had his spear out, they were gone. He turned around again, acutely aware of how there was nothing, no one to watch his back now. He was on his own.

Hours passed as he walked, setting up a shelter somewhere on his mind, but he simply didn’t know what kind of place to put one here. Every noise caused him to spin and flinch, brandishing his spear. Eventually, he heard the sound of flowing water in the far distance, and made his way towards it. He passed through several open clearings as he walked, filled with brush and shrubs, and he could see strange, biomechanical things on the other side of some of them. Gripping his spear tightly, Perdix stayed to the trees, out of sight of the creatures.

Eventually, the trees gave way entirely, and Perdix saw a wide, flowing river, as wide across as the whole islets in Naho Bay. Deep, blue water churned and flowed in a heavy current. Perdix pulled out a waterskin, stepping out from the bushes.

“HALT.” A sharpened disc made of bamboo was pointed at him, and Perdix froze, slowly turning to look at a Ga-Matoran wearing a blue mask with faded silver at the top, crouching by the riverbank. The matoran’s orange eyes widened, and she took a step back. “What in mata nui’s name are you?” She asked in horror. Perdix looked at himself. He was a bit dirty from travelling through the wilds all day, but he didn’t think he looked that awful. He raised his hands, stepping back ”Perdix, I’m an agori... I came from ag-koro...” He replied in passable matoric.

The matoran’s expression on her komau only seemed to intensify. “You’re... You..There is no Ag-Koro, you’re some trick of makuta. You’re too ...fleshy to be anything else.”

Perdix frowned. “It’s on an islet in naho bay, my tribe rests there before traveling onto other waters, It’s... it’s hard to miss, when the fleet arrives. It’s been coming and going for years.” The Matoran considered, before lowering the disk a little. “Where does your fleet sail from?” she asked, suspicious.

“The endless ocean,” Perdix replied, wondering if this matoran was all right in the head. Surely, everyone knew about his tribe, at least around Ga-Koro, right? “My chieftain and our elders found this island on our wanderings, and Nokama-”

“Turaga Nokama,“ the ga-matoran interjected, raising the disk again.

“Turaga Nokama let us use one of the islands in the bay to rest and stop at each season,” Perdix hesitated for a bit. “What’s your name?” he asked. “And who’s Makuta?”

The ga-matoran snorted and put the disk away. “...You don’t know who The Makuta is? With a story that strange... Maybe you really are from beyond the sight of Mata Nui...” she muttered. “Vhisola. I’m on an a very important quest. I’m going to find a Kanohi.” she said proudly.

Perdix stared at the matoran. Maybe she wasn’t all there after all. “You’re... already wearing one...” He pointed out. It was Vhisola’s turn to stare. “a great kanohi you rahi-head! If I find one of the great masks, Turaga Nokama will-”

Vhisola never got to finish her sentence, as a great beast surged out of the water, lunging at the matoran. A claw lanced out as Perdix leapt to push her out of harm’s way- only for the beast’s arm to lash out like a whip- Stricking Vhisola in the face with a sickening crack.

Perdix had seen creatures like that swimming in the bay- the ships were usually enough to chase them off, but all alone? He grabbed Vhisola by the shoulder and pulled her after him, running. he could hear her stumbling along behind him, slowing down with each step, the ga-matoran muttering “No , no, no ...” with each step.

Perdix turned his head behind him to see Vhisola’s eyes stricken with fear, a massive crack splitting her komau nearly in two, held together by her hand frantically pressed to her face. “I’ll get you a new one!” he said, not understanding her panic.

“It’s not working, I... I’m not going to....” Vhisola stumbled as the fractured half of her mask slipped out of her hand and fell to the forest floor. She swayed unsteadily, before sinking weakly to the ground. “....sorry.. run...” she mumbled, her maskless face mouthing out the words before she fell unconscious.

Perdix stared in horror at Vhisola’s unconscious body, reminded vividly of takua laying on the shore. He could hear the Tarakava getting closer, crashing through the undergrowth. He grabbed the unconsious matoran’s arm, throwing her over his back before running as fast as he could back up the mouth of the river, towards Ga-Koro.

Now...

Perdix had let his mentor down, his mother down, and his whole tribe down over the past three days, But he refused to fail now. Swaying and seeing double, he attempted to duck another one of its slashing claws, the creature catching him on the helm, wrenching his head painfully, knocking him to the ground. as he fell to the forest floor, he could see the lights of Ga-Koro faintly at the very in the far, far distance.  He could also see his helmet lying beside his head, cracked and slightly bloody from the Tarakava’s blows.

The rahi’s treads creaked as it came closer, leaning over Perdix with a snaggletoothed  drooling maw, it’s snout covered with a- a mask, pitted and almost diseased looking, but a mask nonetheless. Summoning the last of his strength, Perdix reached out to grab the edge of his helm, the Tarakava opening its mouth.

CRACK

The force of the blow broke both Perdix’s helmet and the mask covering the Rahi’s face, and the beast lurched backwards with a roar of pain. The agori scrambled, grabbing Vhisola by the leg and dragging her, trying to hurry for the gate as fast as he could. He’d accept Nokama’s punishment if he could just do this one thing right...

After what seemed like an eternity, leaf litter underfoot gave way to grass, then grass gave way to fine sand as Perdix stumbled for the gate, seeing blue-armored guards rush through, armed with discs and fishing spears before he smiled, and let himself join Vhisola in unconsciousness on the sandy beach.

...

Perdix came to under a seaweed dome, A matoran with dingy armor and a comparatively shiny noble blue ruru on her face sitting beside him. “Oh. You’re awake.” She said, standing up. Awkwardly, she hesitated before saying a quick, “Thank you.” and exiting the hut.

Perdix blinked, and gingerly started to sit up, before a hand came from behind and pushed him back to the cot. “...I believe I owe you an apology.” Perdix turned his head, and his eyes widened as he saw Turaga Nokama standing by the cot. “I-” “Quiet. You’re still injured. Vhisola... I thought Makuta had taken her many years ago. She’s much like you, in a way. Foolhardy. Eager to impress. But also Brave, tenacious. She said you were attached by a Tarakava?” Perdix nodded. “Then it was under the control of The Makuta, as I feared,” Nokama replied. “His control over the rahi grows stronger and bolder with each passing day...”

“Who... who is the makuta?”

Nokama looked pensive. “That is part of a tale long in the telling,” she said, reaching for a set of stones on the shelf of her hut, laying them out on the floor as Perdix watched, and listened. “In the time before time...”

#Sea Nomads of Aqua Magna #sea agori au #byzwrites #bionicle #agori ocs #vhisola #kai #vhisola: I will vanish for 50 years and no one will notice! #They noticed. #I wanted to do her more nuanced but my brain would not cooperate. #Also I had to think of a matoran who would wander off on their own to do something dumb who wasn't takua #Nokama #no beta i die like g2

[theromanticrationalist]

Well, I finished The Big Bang Theory. That was a wild ride! I know this show ran for a long time, but when you binge watch it for several weeks it goes by SO fast, omg. Season 12 felt rather rushed to me, like they had to hurry and get the characters to their end points. I also do not feel like their stories are really finished, but just getting started! AKA if they wanted to make a Sheldon Cooper and Amy Farrah Fowler show, that would be fine be me! I want to see them continue on with their science projects, getting pregnant, having babies, raising children - I WANT IT ALL. GIVE IT TO ME. *ahem*

Some criticism, the emotions at the end didn’t feel necessarily earned. I mean it was beautiful how Sheldon Cooper said he loved his friends and honored them as part of his journey to the Nobel Prize. Only, I am remembering in Young Sheldon, how Sheldon thanked Missy Cooper in his High School President speech, and I was like a MESS. I wanted to just outright bawl my eyes out! There was so much earned emotion there between Sheldon and Missy. Also, Sheldon thanked Missy from his own heart, and wasn’t bullied by his friends and loved ones.

So, I get that this is a sitcom, so it just comes with the territory, but everyone was so angry and upset at Sheldon, when in reality they literally never fully communicated any of their problems WITH Sheldon. They always just enabled him or submitted to him in resentment, when a good direct face to face chat was all they needed to do. Amy does it all the time, when the writers decide to make her smart. I don’t like how utterly clueless everyone acts about Sheldon. He’s like literally autistic, full stop. It is obvious as day. It is so clear that things just have to be explained to him and have it be processed by him in a certain way. Of course he always loved his friends, though! That was so freak’in obvious, these guys are dopes to not see it! Sheldon’s love goes so deep.

Obviously, I am not excusing his selfishness or self-centeredness, which anyone can be these things no matter your cognitive ability, but that isn’t the problem for me about this show. It is the fact that everyone acts like Sheldon is the sole source of the problem, walking on eggshells around him, acting as if he is the vulnerable one everyone needs to protect, when they could have just treated him as an adult to begin with! It is the same mistake Mary Cooper made in raising Sheldon, wanting to protect him vs allowing him to discover the world and learn, like George often argued for (Dad Cooper was right, yo!). Yes, this boy is a sensitive, precious little baby cakes who is rather naive and gullible, but also - he’s a grown ass man. Just because his behaviors are primarily associated with children doesn’t make him an actual child. (At least Mary Cooper had that excuse, she was raising the little green bean!) He absolutely isn’t, though. And as the show proved, Sheldon CAN accept change, be humbled, and express love through physical and emotional means. Guess what guys, HE COULD HAVE DONE THAT THE WHOLE FREAK’IN TIME. No one had to slap him or yell at him or hurt him, they could have just TOLD HIM. You know, like rational adults? So who are the children in this situation, hmm?

Anyway, it is just something I am frustrated with about the whole show, especially since it effected him and Amy and how they communicated. The writing was rather frustrating in many ways. That is why I prefer Young Sheldon as a show and how they handle Sheldon’s character in it, which is with so much more nuance, depth, and maturity.

But again, this is a sitcom. So, whatta ya gonna do? It was an absolute delight, though, and I am going to HYPERFIXATE THE HELL out of Shamy!!

King and Queen of the Universe! Their brains are so much better than everyone’s!! 😍😍😍

#the big bang theory #my thoughts #my TBBT thoughts #shamy #sheldon cooper #amy farrah fowler #young Sheldon

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Hart and Hunter - Chapter 30 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Julian Hart

"Gone?" Dane yells, his grasp on my arms tightens.

"Gone where?"

"I don't know," I say, wincing against the bruising pain of his grip.

"They were taking us to the standing stones."

"Who was taking you? Julian, where is my sister?" he asks, shaking me again, harder this time, as if he hopes he can rattle some coherent answers out of me.

Thankfully, Freya comes to my rescue.

"Hey, give him some space," she says, laying a restraining hand on Dane's shoulder.

"Let the man breathe. I'm sure he'll tell us everything as soon as he's able."

Dane's expression eases a little and he rubs my arms apologetically.

After spending so much time in his alternate form, he must still be thinking with his Wolf's mind... simple and direct... and lacking some human nuances.

I take a few rough gulps of air and cast Freya a thankful glance.

"There are other Fae here, a man and two women. Halloran's half-brother and cousins, apparently. They said they came to check on him and find out why he hadn't yet brought me home."

"Home?"

I wince, knowing this next part won't go over well.

"To Faerie. Halloran's father is a Fae king and he wants a 'leanan sidhe'. He sent Halloran here to... retrieve me."

"Fuck," Dane swears, his voice a low growl.

"I knew we shouldn't have trusted that guy."

"We didn't," I shoot back.

"I did and he risked his life to help me escape."

"And what about Ingrid?" Dane asks, turning his scowl on me.

"You just left her and saved yourself?"

A shock of electric ice goes through me at the cold accusation in his words and I scramble to my own defense.

"I had no choice. Darragh... the other Fae... threatened to kill Halloran or Ingrid if I didn't cooperate. Then Halloran attacked him and gave me the chance to get away. I was afraid if they caught me, Ingrid or Halloran would pay for it. Halloran may have paid for it already."

Dane shakes his head.

"If anything happens to her..."

"You'll never forgive me and I'll never forgive myself. You don't have to tell me, Dane."

He blinks as if just realizing where he is and who he's talking to and his expression shifts again towards apology but I cut him off before he can speak.

"What about her?" I ask, nodding towards my grandmother, who still stands in the shadows at the edge of the trees.

"What has she told you?"

"Who knows?" Dane says, turning to look.

"I don't understand Fae sign language."

"At least she's not running away," I murmur.

"Seems like she wants to help."

Moving away from Dane, I approach her.

"Rhiannon. Do you know who I am?"

She nods slowly and steps towards me, a sparkle of tears in her amethyst eyes.

She reaches a hand towards my face, as if she wants to touch me but withdraws it quickly.

"You still can't speak?" I ask.

She nods and makes a few swift, graceful gestures with her hands.

I shake my head.

"I'm sorry. I don't understand."

"I think it's a curse," Freya says, coming to stand at my side.

"I've seen something similar before, down in Louisiana. Different magic, same result. Some kinda silencing spell. Am I right?"

Rhiannon's eyes widen and she nods while making more rapid gestures in the air.

"Whoa, slow down," Freya says, raising her own hands.

"I don't understand any more than he does."

She nods at me.

"Can you write?"

The other woman shakes her head and makes a larger, slower gesture in the air... this time, one I recognize.

"Only in runes," I say, taking a guess.

Her gaze shifts to me and she nods eagerly.

"That tracks," says Freya.

"In the cases I've seen, it's almost as if the victims have had a 'magical stroke' like the curse affects the speech-processing parts of the brain. When they try to speak or write, it comes out all garbled but it seems like the runes bypass that... maybe they're more art than language."

"We can speculate later," Dane says gruffly.

"For now, we need to find Ingrid. Fuck..."

He bunches his hands in his hair and scowls as Rhiannon gestures unintelligibly.

"I wish Noah were here."

Freya frowns.

"Let's concentrate on what we do have. Maybe Rhiannon can't tell us the whole story but she can clearly show a 'yes' or 'no' and that's enough to get some answers."

She turns back to the Fae.

"You know the people who took our sister?"

Rhiannon nods, though confusion clouds her expression.

"Will they take her to Faerie?"

"Let's get to the standing stones," Dane says.

"Maybe we can still cut them off. If not, we'll go in after them. Can you open a doorway?" he asks, directing the question at Rhiannon.

She shakes her head while gesturing rapidly and backs away a few paces.

"Whatever. We'll figure it out when we get there. Freya... run ahead and get our clothes. We'll meet you at the car."

Freya nods and takes off into the trees, Shifting as she runs...a woman in one stride, a She-Wolf in the next and disappears.

Dane follows, remaining in human form but Rhiannon catches at my arm and holds me back, shaking her head.

"What is it?" I ask.

"You think they're not at the stones?"

She grimaces and shakes her head, gesturing incomprehensibly.

"Come with us," I say, reaching for her hand.

"We can talk on the way. Do you still have my Dad's book? Maybe you can teach me to read it and..."

Snatching her hand from my grasp, she backs away, beckoning for me to follow her.

"Julian, come on," Dane calls.

I glance over my shoulder and see Dane waiting for me.

When I turn back to Rhiannon, she's gone.

[demwhore]

summer (l.ty)

pairing┃boxer! lee taeyong and college student! OC ft. Doyoung, Mark, Johnny and Taeil + mention of Bang Chan and Namjoon genre | fluff, slight angst | boxer! au warnings | slow-burn, language, mention of ass ( i know taeyong has none but alright), lots of banter, physical injuries, mention of blood, violence, mention of steroid usage, making out in the boxing gym, too much plot but aight, smut (for those uncomfortable, the smut is placed at the very end; the note indicates mature content, read at your own risk ) subtle sub!-dom! themes, unprotected sex, fingering, eating out, penetration, biting, marking, creampie, edging it’s not really that dirty but it’s just passionate lovemaking word count | 25k

synopsis | 

“If two people are meant to be together, they will eventually find their way back.” 

Or in which, you are stranded in your university due to summer classes and you had a little reunion with your ex that you last saw two years ago.

a/n | this is part of @neo-cult-ure‘s summer collab!  taglist | @cinanamon @jaesmintea @jungcity @seongghwaa @mjlkau @neoyoungho for helping me with proofreading.  tags | @ethaeriyeol @yuta-nakitamoto​ @suhweo @neocity-sarai @jaeminsmainbitch @the32ndbeat @bumblebeenct @cloudynakamoto @solecize @moonlss @ceruleanskies @tzuqui @jungjeffr3y @neo-shitty @o-schist​

muse | and this is based on the song summer by calvin harris, long flight by taeyong, call out my name, earned it by The Weeknd, pillowtalk by zayn, love me harder by ariana grande. there are literary quotes from The Notebook by nicholas sparks and The Great Gatsby by fitzgerald.

“The cows didn’t deserve this sight. You look like a moving potato sack.” 

That one familiar voice, laced with precise mirthful nuance immediately stops you from your attempted zumba dances. Your head automatically snaps towards the door where he is currently leaning at. Even without looking, you could see the tugging of his lips that belonged to your one and only grumpy roommate and unfortunately best friend, Doyoung. 

This is one of your routines, dancing carelessly in front of your open windows, to entertain the cows from the farm your dormitory is located at. They make such a great audience though, unlike the people from university. 

People who? You don’t know her. 

You lean over the table to shut down the speaker that blasts electronic music. 

The morbid greetings are never new to you anymore. In fact these greeting exchanges are normal, and an inside joke no one will understand but you and him. 

Doyoung looks like he recently woke up from his grave. With a sullen face and eye bags that are too dark, it stands out amongst his pallorness. Being a pol-sci student surely makes the stunning Kim Doyoung a disaster. 

He enters your room with coffee in hand and plops himself comfortably on the blue plush seats you two had managed to haul at the local thrift shop. This is Kim Doyoung with his disheveled morning look—his curly hair and baggy sweatpants but hail thee heavens, he still looks majestic and it’s unfair. He gulps a mouthful of his morning coffee. At this point you have made the conclusion that coffee is what kicks him in the morning, if not, daily. 

You gawk at the tall boy before you, bracing yourself for his never ending list of snarky remarks —about you, your ridiculous pajamas, the cows which you don’t understand either, college, his debates, how emotional the girls are in his department and it pisses him off, how capitalism sucks, do soulmate exists? And if yes, it’s bullshit and what not. Nevertheless, you do understand his points since both of you share a deep seated bond and a like for misanthropy. Despite his ear-splitting and sometimes provocative rants, it had never failed to boost you. Albeit you hate early morning scolds, Kim Doyoung and his banters are an exception. 

“Potato who? I am an exceptional dancer.” You grin while whipping your hair dramatically. 

On cue, Doyoung’s eyes roll heavenwards. What a dramatic king. “How is that even possible?”

You shrug. “They moo-ed at me longer than their usual moo-s. Look!” You point at the brown cow staring back at you while nibbling grass. 

Doyoung didn’t bother to peek at your window. Instead, he shakes his head in dismay while sipping again on his black coffee. “You need to seek help, you’re unbelievable.”

“Me and the cows just have a deep-seated relationship and they are far more supportive than your grumpy ass.” 

Doyoung didn’t answer you. He shifts again in his seat, his long legs folding in an uncomfortable angle. Doyoung winces as he settles his mug on the table just adjacent from the plush seat. He gives you a concerned look, “Anyways, enough with the cows. How is your major going? You look dead.” 

“So are you.”

“I’m stunning, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Bickering with him will be a waste of a time. 

It's 8:30 am and truth be told, you are not ready to go to your university especially when the impending torment awaits for your arrival. 

Your lips tug upward, an acrimonious smile painting your lips. If there’s something you want to talk about early in the morning, it would rather be about politics, rabbits, anything but your college department. The attempt in pulling an all-nighter yesterday night isn’t enough to lessen the never ending stack of paperwork your professors are demanding and talking about it would just fuel up your frustrations. “If the team won’t cooperate in the defense,” you sigh. “Summer.”

In an instant, Doyoung’s lips tugs into a shit-eating grin. Those smiles that hold such malice that shouts ‘you’re a worst case’. Being the sinister human being he is, he didn’t waste this opportunity to throw you his judgement. “For what I know college students should never be… negligent.” He drags out those words slowly like reciting to a child, making sure you do understand what the hell he is talking about and giving full emphasis on the last word that he said. 

You immediately retort back, defensive. “I am! I mean… I am not!”

“I am not saying you are… but your groupmates.”

“They are…”

His feline eyes are as dark as his hair while he studies you. He’s feigning fake enthusiasm while raising his brows up cockily. “Yeah?”

You inwardly let out a whine. “Yeah. Now. Shut up Kim Doyoung.”

He chuckles. “What? I’m not saying anything!”

You huff. “After all this crap, I will seriously go out for a vacation,” you pause. “And I won’t tag you in, bitch!” 

He rolls his eyes, “How despicable.”

“Seriously though, I don’t want to spend my time in university, it’ll kill the remaining sanity left in me.”

Overly confident, you want to smack the shit out of him. He shrugs. “I know. Good thing I’m an ace.”

You roll your eyes and throw your plushie towards his direction. But the devil incarnate has the deities on his side because the pillow didn’t budge nor hit him at all. 

“Excuse me, mister right. Sorry to pop your bubble but remember? Your professor is still frustrated at the bull crap you pulled.” Your lips immediately tugging upwards upon the memory of him blabbing out incoherently to you like a child, intoxicated with alcohol while flunking classes. All of it because he’s, according to him, an ace. 

“And what was that you were yelling at the corridors?” You try and recall the song he keeps on yelling in the top of his lungs while the people are shooting him dirty looks, “Young, dumb, young, young, dumb and bro-oh-ke…”

You wheeze while clutching your stomach. Good thing he got a nice voice, but still it was embarrassing. As if on cue, the stressed-out, disheveled Kim Doyoung wipes his face dramatically in humiliation. You’re both entertainers in your own ways, but he makes himself really stand out without him even trying. 

If Kim Doyoung’s life is a movie, you’d literally spend your dollars to watch him over and over again. 

“How’s your horse?” And you burst into fits of laughter. 

A distressed groan escapes Doyoung’s lips upon the memory. “Can you please not?” 

You shake your head no, still laughing upon the memory. He glares in your direction, his hawk-like eyes staring back at you with such vexation.

It’s a mistake for him to actually choose to drink rather than preparing for a major presentation that he messed up with big time. While drunk, he answered his professor’s inquiry with, ‘I don’t have a thing for voyeurism though, my horse is not down for it’. His professor is too infuriated at his answer and his laid back attitude, she gave him a big fat 60% mark as payback. What a damn ace, truly, ace of all clowns. 

“I just hoped the case study could help me. I didn’t know that the case presentation was worth 60% of my grade!”

“You should join a pageant sometime.”

“Fuck, no.”

“Well, you’re famous as well as your answer. Imagine the school paper desperate just to have your comment published?” You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. 

His suggestive answer spreads out in the university like wildfire. If you could remember the quote, “Attention Ladies! Doyoung is quite reserved as his ‘horse’ is quite shy”, no public canoodling!

Doyoung is so furious when he sees the whole article, that he wants to sue the journalism club for defamation. But they immediately bribe him with a percentage, because the profits were surprisingly high because he’s featured in. Kim Doyoung is quite popular unlike you. He is a Pol-Sci student, and that made him proactive about social issues that you sometimes wanted to shut him out. He never stops talking about capitalism. And not to mention his fanbase— he has the looks, brain even if he barely uses it, and part of a famous sorority house. High number of admirers are really expected. 

He makes a face. That’s what you get when you enter one of your classes intoxicated with gin and bullshit. Yolo, Kim Doyoung. 

“Stop laughing,” he scowls. 

Doyoung clears his throat and diverts the subject, “Have you tallied the responses?”

“Oh, shit.” You shift yourself in your bed. A ballpen strikes your ass and a ruler snaps in half the moment you tried to move again in your spot. 

You wince. “I told Regina about it, and guess what?” 

“Spill.”

“She fucking forgot about the methodology. I’m going insane!” 

You stand up and grab the print-outs of your unfinished research paper. Doyoung brings the cup to his lips while watching you scurry back and forth in your room. You leave your room, only to return once again to gape at your best friend. The lack of sleep is taking a toll on you early in the morning, and all you want to do is to wrap yourself in your fuzzy blankets and binge watching Netflix. After all, it’s exciting to watch with the academic deadlines chasing after every episode you attempt to watch. 

Your best friend’s lips instantly curl upward and you register that the words he’ll be spatting out will slap the shit out of you “You still have to interpret the results, though.”

“Bloody hell.” You groan loudly. 

He grins smugly. “I really hope you won’t bawl your eyes out, but you still have a big nut to crack open.”

You were about to retort back but something had hit you. Your face painting an aghast expression, you cussed again, “Oh shit, the math homework?”

“Bingo.” His smirk widens at your stressed out face. “And the deadline is today.”

Why do you still have maths in your course? It’s ridiculous. 

Despite him being annoying at all times, you are still happy that Doyoung is at your side. He is a blessing in disguise. He somewhat remembers all the things you have mentioned to him like homeworks and other things and makes fun of you because you‘re such a fucking goner. Having the habit of doing something at the drop of a hat then to procrastinate and cram it all out like a madwoman. 

You manage to get through this bad habit of yours when your ex helped you back in the day. But now that he’s gone, all your mannerisms are flooding in like crazy. 

You heave a long sigh of frustration. “Why, why, the hell did I choose to watch Riverdale instead of doing my maths?”

You stare at his dark orbs dancing with pure amusement. 

He shrugs at your outbursts. “I have been telling you. You’re too distracted.”

You, per contra, immediately run to your bed and grab the nearest paper lying on the end with a  bold ‘biochemistry’ printed on the topmost part of the paper. You toss the paper to Doyoung’s direction and continued on doing the searching operation of your long-lost math homework. 

Doyoung clicks his tongue, finding the scowl on your face entertaining. “I just saw that paper! Now I can’t see it!” 

You stomp your feet in annoyance.

Doyoung rolls his eyes. He knows exactly where this will go. He counts.

Three. Two. One.

You wail. “Kim Doyoung! I cannot find it!”

“You should learn to search using your fucking eyes! Jesus Christ, you’re unbelievable,” he sighs, running his lithe hands through his raven locks. From the sound of his sigh, you know he’s tired of dealing with your constant bullshit.

“You have your eyes for a reason. For searching! Don’t use your mouth, Y/N,” he paused. Your homework is on the table.” Then he pointed at the coffee table.

“You’re lucky I’m being nice here. I’d rather hide that paper from you and watch you fail because you just lost a fucking piece of paper.”

You grimace, “You’re one hell of --”

You see how Doyoung’s face morphed in a whole 180 turn before the blink of your eye. From being calm to sinister. He mumbles, his tone so deep and malign. But you can hear him, “If you continue on. I will never, ever, help you with your essays. Carry on your GPA.”

What a hypocritical bitch. 

Doyoung exactly knows how and where to push your buttons. 

A whirlpool of emotions washes over you, and panic is the main cherry on top. It’s been an unspoken rule among both of you, that if ever who’s at rock bottom, the other half shall lift the rock no matter how heavy it is. And unfortunately, you're the rock and Doyoung has been helping you all through this time to somehow pass and manage your assignments. He’s been complaining how he is suffering from back pain due to carrying you all over the place. 

You huff, clenching your fist to control the forming irritation in your gut, “For the sake of my peace, I wanna punch you. But yes, thank you, bitch.”

He mimics you, “Welcome bitch.”

Approaching his seat, you plop yourself comfortably on the floor. “Now how do I do this?”

Doyoung tilts his head to the side to cast a greater view of your paper and his face immediately scrunches. “Mean and deviation? I have taught you how to get them, right?”

You groan out. “I forgot.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Of course you forgot about it,” he curls his lips to a frown. “But remembering handsome boys, you ain’t slick… wait… what’s my name again?”

“Gross.”

He snatches the paper from your hold with a scowl and begins scribbling the answers. He mumbles loud enough for you to hear, “You weren’t like this when he was here. You’re too distracted.”

You frown upon the mention of your ex. Doyoung is right, you suck up big time when your ex left you to pursue his career. 

Doyoung hands the paper back to you. Glancing at your homework, he had answered the first two numbers and the rest were blank. Your mouth presses into a thin line while attempting to answer the rest, following the solutions and steps of Doyoung from above. 

He lifts the mug to his lips and gulps the remaining coffee. A vibration from his pocket catches his attention. Doyoung fishes for his mobile phone and his eyes almost bulge out upon the text he just received. The screen illuminates his slender face. 

[from TY Track] [9:15] I’m coming home from Busan. See you at your university. How’s Alpha chi Omega? I missed them as well. 

Glancing from your peripheral vision; you know he must’ve received some dirty text again with the way his eyes bulge out of his sockets and a faint blush of pink that has been kissing his cheeks. You were not sure from whom though but it could be from the lists of girls in your mind that you’ve once texted out to ‘fuck off’ as per Kim Doyoung. 

It happens daily and you are somewhat forced to answer them back because he’s been begging you to get rid of them. His ways of swatting the girls are really insurmountable. There is this time you thought he’s sending in dick pic (you almost threw a victory dance) but in reality he was just sending a picture of his beautiful middle finger followed by blocking or sometimes a ‘get lost, I don’t like you’.

You grin at the thought of Doyoung dirty texting but it’s borderline impossible. The amount of suitors is surprisingly high for a grumpy Kim Doyoung but he dismisses them all. You don’t know why he doesn’t open up opportunities for commitment, but it isn’t your business to mess with. After all, you couldn't blame them, his whole frat boy demeanor is really a lovely sight to look at. 

His mouth opens then closes followed by his eyes widening like he couldn’t believe the sight at his screen. You let out an airy chuckle while computing for the mean. “You got yourself a fubu? Shall we call in Alpha chi Omega and celebrate?”

His brows automatically furrow while hiding his phone away from your sight, in defense. Your conclusions forming like endless swirls in your mind at the sight of him being so, aloof. You shoot out a grin. 

“What the fuck? No!”

Your brows automatically shoot upward and you raise your hands still grinning widely. “Woah, chill, lover boy.”

Never in Doyoung’s life he plays cupid, because he thinks love is ridiculous. But he might as well play one for the sake of two broken hearts still yearning for each other. Doyoung knows he’s still not over you and you are still thinking about him even if you don’t admit. 

[doie] [9:26] See you hyung. I will show you around.

Two months and two weeks prior to Taeyong’s homecoming. 

Ragged breaths resonate around the boxing circle. The crowd is expectant, holding in their breath while watching the neck to neck fight. 

Chan is lying on the floor, his chest rising heavily with every breath he takes. His coach is yelling profanities from the farthest corner, urging him to get his ass up and fight. He hears the muffled rambunctious screaming of the crowd and the loud EDM music blaring inside the gymnasium followed by the irritating ringing in his ears. 

With Taeyong’s strike on his right ear, his balance fucks up and he can’t bring himself on his feet. Chan’s eyesight is getting worse, seeing occasional stars here and there. If it wasn’t for the gym’s blinding spotlight and camera flashes, he would really think that he got blind. Despite the large ring they are currently in, the atmosphere feels heavy, thick, and choking. The place stinks of cigarettes, sweat and blood. The floors were slightly wet with their perspiration. There’s overall tension, but violence is above it all. 

Taeyong wipes the blood that spluttered from his mouth from Chan’s jab. He runs towards the corner where his team is at. Taeil immediately scrambles to his feet to get inside the ring to wipe off his sweat. Taeyong feels extreme exhaustion while staring back at Taeil under hooded eyes. He is running a tongue over his mouthpiece and rests his head on the ring’s metal post. 

The referee enters the ring with a mic in hand then approaches the younger boxer. The referee pounds his fist onto the white mat, yelling numbers, “One!”

A pause. Then there is another pound. This time with much more force than the previous pound. “Two!”

Chan’s eyes flicker open at the countdown. His bruised eyes widening at the sound of his coach’s constant fire of profanities. Get up Bang Chan! Get the hell up! And so he did. Before the referee could shout the last number, three, Chan slightly jerks his shoulder, lifting his gloved hands then he tilts his torso to his right, raising up to his toes completely. Chan wobbles slightly while setting his posture up in full defense mode. 

The referee makes a dash, excluding himself from the ring. Taeyong walks towards the center, his stance is set with his gloved hand raised up for defense. Chan’s appearance is rough. With blood covering most of his torso, there are occasional hues of yellow, purple and blue lingering on the younger boxer’s cheeks and eyes, one of his eyebrows split open blood pooling down mixing with his sweat, his plump lips is swollen and busted as if he had been stung by a bee. 

Taeyong approaches the opponent carefully. Defense still high and not breaking eye contact. He knows how jumbled Chan is. Continuing on pushing himself further will just cause him harm— both mentally and physically. Due to Chan’s swollen right eye he can’t see Taeyong clearly. Throwing out jabs clumsily. 

After contemplating for a few, Chan throws a counterpunch but Taeyong is quick enough to throw a combination that interrupts the younger mid-way. Chan musters his remaining strength to launch out a strike but Taeyong immediately dodges and springs forward to throw a blow on his jaw. 

Chan can see spirals swimming in his vision that made him pause. With a disarranged mind, all he could do was to clinch on his opponent’s shoulder, breathing hard, bodies colliding with each other. The referee immediately steps in, breaking them apart. The crowd roars with both enthusiasm and dismay. 

Taeyong made the final move, shooting his last blow on Chan’s stomach that made the young boxer fall with a loud thud. The crowd erupts with extreme exhilaration. 

The emcee’s voice booms through the gymnasium’s speakers. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen after twelve rounds of action we go to the scorecards. We have a unanimous decision in favor of the winner none other than boxing’s pride of Seoul, Lee Taeyong! The one and only, current WBA welterweight champion of the world! Lee ‘Kingpin’ Taeyong!”

Taeyong approaches Chan’s figure at the other side of the ring and gives him his warmest regards. Taeyong watches the intimate moment shared between the Aussie and his significant other. As sweet folks say, loving kisses can wipe out exhaustion. Touché. 

Taeyong is sure that the younger boxer has potential and could make his boxing career stretch far with an obtained score of 116. Taeyong is in Chan’s situation once, losing then going home with a fucked up face. Everything is consuming— especially in boxing. Fatigue, face, dignity— but it is all about the commitment. It took Taeyong several eyebrow cuts just to achieve his current position. Before he was well-known as the Kingpin, he was once a loser. With high pressure, diamonds are formed. 

Victory is so sweet. Yet the Kingpin still feels empty. He misses those moments when he was still a nobody; someone will run inside the gym just to pepper him kisses and him dodging cause he’s all sweaty. Or the steamy make out sessions usually in his Mustang after every class. The late night sex in his room. He wants to turn back time, he missed experiencing it all, everything. It hurts for him to admit but he missed someone that is dear to him. Someone that is his life. Those memories cease the moment he decided to choose this career, boxing. He thought, was it worth it? Is selecting boxing really did give him the utmost happiness? Was it worth exchanging you for this career? After his several attempts of questioning himself, Taeyong couldn’t still answer whether all of this makes him happy or it’s just complete bullshit. 

His team jumps in the ring full of excitement. Taeil is showing him an ear to ear grin while wiping off his face. Taeyong winces as Taeil is too overwhelmed, vigorously wiping over his cuts. “Hyung, I’m not a car, stop wiping my face like a wiper.”

Taeil giggles. “Oh. Sorry.”

His manager approaches him, sliding the heavyweight gold belt over his shoulder. The manager leans over to whisper a strong ‘congratulations’. Taeyong nods back, unable to contain his glee. He grins at the crowd and pumps his fist in the air. The crowd are screaming for his name and his victory.

All hail, Kingpin. 

“Taeyong.”

Taeyong’s eyes flicker shut. It’s only been five minutes since Taeyong submerged in the cylinder shaped chamber full of ice, but for him it feels like forever. The water stings and the cold is there, but it eats away the soreness nevertheless. Taeyong grits his teeth, fucking five minutes feels like eternity. He tries to divert his attention to anything but the stopwatch clipped on the cylinder’s edge.  

A voice calls him again. Taeil. “Taeyong.”

The boxer breathes. “Yes. Hold on.” 

The timer beeps. Taeil approaches the cylinder bath to snatch the beeping device.

 Taeyong rises to his full height with the water swaying after him and the ice floating around the bath. Taeyong grips the edge and jumps out. 

Taeil approaches him with a towel in hand. The boxer grabs the fluffy fabric and wraps it around his bare torso still shivering from the aftermath of his post-match routine. The soreness from the fight subdues. Taeyong holds the fabric to his head to towel dry his silver locks. 

Taeil begins, “There’s something the manager will tell you.”

Taeyong shoots out a look towards him, his face immediately contorting into confusion.  “About what?”

Taeil shrugs. He plops down to the bench and drops the athletic bag. The steel bench creaks as he rummages through the bag and throws a pair of boxers, sweatpants and a black tank top towards Taeyong. 

The boxer grunts, snatching the clothes mid-air with his right hand. “Geez. You could’ve handed it to me, hyung.”

Taeil faces him and settles the bag. A tired sigh escapes his lips. “I’m not in favor of what he’s gonna say to you.”

Taeyong’s brow furrows. “Why? Wait, what is it about?”

Taeil leans back on the wall and closes his eyes for a moment. “You’re familiar with the gung-ho McGregor aren’t you?”

Taeyong’s eyes narrow as he tries to recall the familiar name. Damn, Chan’s smack must’ve shaken his brain. “The suspended boxer?”

Taeil nods and crosses his arms. “He’s actually back and wants to hold a match with you.” 

Taeyong fidgets on his spot awkwardly. Water droplets drip down his chest. It’s fucking cold. For heaven’s sake he’s just in his black boxers. 

“Can I change first?”

Taeil shakes his head and holds a finger to shut him out. “This is an important matter, kid.”

Taeyong scowls. “It’s fucking cold!”

He stops bickering back upon the sight of Taeil’s glare. Taeyong sighs, “We rejected them, right?”

“Yes. But backstage, Alexis’s manager opened up the matter to the manager again.”

Taeyong’s brows knot. “I just got into a fight. Can you talk it out with the manager?”

Taeil grimaces. “You know how my words don’t have an effect on him.” 

Taeil continues on, “Besides, you are never the alibi type. If there’s a fight, you fight. That is how they know you. So it won’t work, unless you got pregnant? But that’s borderline fucking impossible.”

Taeyong didn’t argue back since Taeil has a point. Alibis are not really favorable especially in the world of boxing, unless you’re at death's door. 

Taeil continues. “McGregor’s team promised a percentage if you let him win.”

“What the fuck?” Absolutely never. 

A knock disrupts the two. Taeil straightens himself while Taeyong readjusts the towel resting on his hair. 

Manager Oh enters the room. The two male cannot read the gloomy look on the manager’s face as the atmosphere is quite tense. 

The manager gulps and begins to speak. “I reckon Taeil has told you about the matter,” the manager pauses. “We’ll accept the deal. The fight will be pushed through.”

Taeyong’s ears piques as he begins to feel annoyed. “Without consulting me? If it wasn’t for Taeil hyung, I wouldn’t know.”

Manager Oh breaths. “They promised to sponsor everything for your UBT.” He halts again, trying to select the right words to cajole the boxer. “That’s your goal, right?”

The Universal Boxing Tournament is something elite, big, and wild. It isn’t just Taeyong’s goal but every boxer. The payments in the matches are double the fee he usually receives. Although the chance of fighting in the big event is at Taeyong’s palm, it left him in a state of deep conflict. He’s done being the sparring partner— or a punching bag of someone else. He’d establish himself and the idea of stooping down just for the benefit of others greatly dismays him. 

Taeyong strokes his nape. “It is one of my goals— dream, even. But I’m not sure, manager. I’m done being a punching bag.”

Manager Oh rubs his eyes. “I know…it’s just that McGregor is coming back and having a match with you could guarantee popularity for him.”

Taeil shakes his head in dismay but he never utters a word. 

The boxer is still unconvinced. 

The manager sighs. “He’s cleared of steroid usage.”

Taeyong squints. “What if he does it again pre-match? Then that cancels the match, what about the UBT spot they’ve promised?”

“You don’t have to worry about that… we have a written contract.”

Taeil shakes his head in disappointment. This rash decision of the team is what they'll be regretting later especially when an informal agreement is raised up. It won’t guarantee a spot to a big fight that easily. It’s like chasing dust. 

Taeyong inquires further. “When is this?”

“Next month. We'll grind to prepare you.” 

Taeyong knows how sicko McGregor can be in the ring. He has seen some clips of his matches. But if it means being in UBT, he’ll go.  “Alright.”

The manager stands up, brushing his pants. “We’ll move locations. I have a gym near the University you graduated from.”

The kingpin will return to the place where he started from rock bottom. It suddenly fills him with nostalgia. His two managers left the room for him to do his thing. Taeyong quickly grabs his phone and texted Doyoung, notifying him of his upcoming arrival. 

[Compose Message to: doie] [9:15] I’m coming home from Busan. See you at your university. How’s Alpha chi Omega? I missed them as well. 

His phone screen illuminates his striking face as he waits for a reply. Taeyong settles his phone down on the counter to ruffle his hair but Doyoung already responded. His phone vibrates. 

[doie] [9:26] See you hyung. I will show you around. The boys (and someone xD) will surely be glad to see you. Aja!

Taeyong grins. He’s excited to go home as well. A thought lingers on his mind, who’s the ‘someone’ Doyoung is referring to?

The sun is ebbing its way to daylight. It is the day of your defense or as Doyoung calls it doomsday or the Purge. Doyoung left you instructions on how to answer the panel smoothly without having the impression that you’re clueless.

He never spoon feeds you rather letting you do everything on your own. For this defense, he told you to shut up and not blab anything unless asked. And he adds, ‘answer straight to the point and don’t fucking sugarcoat’. Professors grill students until you could no longer retaliate, they are spawns of satan and you are so sure of that. 

This defense is the most stressful thing you encounter in your whole college life. An abomination, breaking people apart. Recitations are an exception though as you could always adlib like the stunt Doyoung pulled in his major classes.

The moment you set foot on the university grounds, you hear the cacophony of deafening alarm bells, signalling the students of the start of the first period. You sigh. Despite having to practice the day before (and practically being scolded and grilled by Doyoung), you still can’t calm your nerves. Your face immediately scrunches at the thought of summer classes. 

The sun is shining through the large oval in your university. Beads of sweat glistening on your forehead. Swarm of boisterous students walked side by side. talking about the same exact thing that has been swimming in your mind lately-- summer. Alas, the whole semester of dread is coming to an end and you cannot longer wait to wear the pink leotard Doyoung jokingly bought you for your birthday. You head straight north passing by the department of physical education. You see the soccer players, in their mighty, flashy maroon uniforms, running over the field. You immediately recognize the familiar figure of Johnny and the way the curvature of his ass sticks out of his shorts. Not that you really enjoy ogling at his ass though but it ain’t just another ass. It's Johnny Seo’s ass, popular, might as well stare at the divine sight before he charges everyone for it. You know of the big guy since you’re living in a small world, he’s friends with your best friend and a good pal of your ex boyfriend. Everything around you will always connect with either Doyoung or your ex.

Johnny has a reputation like Doyoung though. But unlike your best friend being known as a snob, Johnny is known for his massive dick and palpable cockiness in bed. He senses your stare and cranes his neck around to face you. His teammates behind him huddle together to ogle at the female their captain is looking at. He smiles at your direction then waves at you enthusiastically from the field. Lips curl into a smile while giving him a wave. You hear rambunctious woos and boyish whistles from behind when you continue on walking towards your building. Boys. 

The familiar mint green building is now in sight. You hug the folders close to your chest like it’s your armor while taking a sharp turn. It leads you down to the right wing but as soon as you are about to enter, a large signage of  ‘use the main door’ blocks your way. Your annoyance reaches its peak level while shooting daggers at the locked door. You contemplate, if you were to make a dash for the main door that is a meter away from here, you’ll be late for the first period. And professors always makes the tardy students sing in front and never in your fucking life will do that. 

A shout startles you in your place. “Son of a bitch!”

“What the hell are you doing there? Go to your room, dumbass.” Talking about the smart shit that just arrives with his sharp voice lacing with its usual deep suave and timbre that pierces your eardrums early in the morning. His building is just right beside yours. So whether you like it or not, Doyoung will be in sight to annoy the shit out of you like he usually does.

You turn to him. Going to the canteen to eat is tempting but the thought of disappointing Kim Doyoung and his efforts going to waste bites you off. “I’m nervous.”

The female students are eyeing both of you— most are stinky glares from his fangirls. You take a sharp breath and hoist up the strap of your bag properly. 

“Just remember what I’ve told you. And don’t abash yourself.” He ruffles your locks and you immediately swat his arm away. The squeals of the girls from behind obliterates both of your gossamer thin patience and remaining one brain cell. Needless to say, you walk up the pathway towards the main door of your building.

The thick choking atmosphere welcomes you. The happy color of mint green from its interior doesn’t conceal the melancholy of the people inside. You hear an upcoming call of your name, but you couldn’t apprehend it clearly because of the continuous murmurs in the hallway. “Y/N!”

You let out a groan of abhorrence as you whip your body around upon the call. But there isn’t a familiar face to chit chat with so you proceed forward but the wind knocked out of your lungs when you were suddenly yanked from behind. 

You are about to throw profanities when Dia’s face comes to view greeting you sweetly, “Hi, Y/N!” 

You attempt to smile but it looks like you’re suffering with constipation with all your teeth gritted together, “Hey!”

Dia begins. “I can’t wait for the sem to end!” She beams enthusiastically while clinging onto your arms. You struggle to climb the stairs with her hips hitting you sideways. 

“Me too.” You exhale while gathering your thoughts. Your minds a mess with the conclusion, summer outfit and the swarm of murmurs of the students in the stairwell. “I plan on getting a tan though or skinny dripping, I don’t know.”

“Oh my! Yes!” she laughs while tugging her lips out almost lost in thought. “Alpha chi Omega is actually planning on a homecoming party.” She smiles cheekily that is way familiar for you. You immediately grin at her being such a saccharine babe.

You raise your brows. “Who’s coming home?”

She shrugs. “I dunno.”

You frown while lost in thought . “Then how did you know about it?”

Dia waggles her eyebrows, a mischievous glint lighting in her eyes. “Of course. I keep tabs on the packing king, Johnny Seo.”

You grimace. “Huh? Packing? Where is Johnny going? I thought it’s a homecoming?”

Dia rolls her eyes heavenwards. You are being so impossible. “Packing as in walking around with a huge dick. My god, are you from the 90s?” 

“I’m not. I just don’t go around ogling at... what you call him? Packing Prince.” You make a puking face. 

Dia laughs while you mumble under your breath, “You are unbelievable.”

She clicks her tongue and leans in while shushing the words near your year, “I’m not though… hey you wanna know what’s unbelievable?”

It piques your attention, “What?”

“Johnny has the bomb-est ass ever. Like a hundred over ten, would recommend.”

You retreat back and scowl. She laughs at your impending disappointment. But she’s right though, in fact you saw a sight of Johnny’s ass early in the morning. Bomb it is. You shake your head, but a smile is tugging your lips upright, “Whatever you say so.”

Dia is still laughing, spreading positivity in the already sullen hallway in the ground floor. It didn’t last long as you both part ways upon the sight of room 402. You huff, trying to recollect your breath. Stairways will be the cause of your death. Your classmates are either feigning optimism or just dead tired. A voice booms out, alerting the class. You glance and see the person behind the said misery. 

“Groups one, kindly present in front. Get ready groups three and five. Say hi to the panel of judges.” 

“What in the fucking world?”

“You should have seen it coming.”

“The biggest bugbear of my life is spending summer in university instead of the beach!”

Doyoung gives you a nonchalant look. He immediately pays a visit to your building upon hearing your never-ending cusses at the call a while ago. He stands by the door of your room while his arms are crossed. 

He begins, “At least you’re alive, though.”  

Doyoung’s lips curling into a mischievous smirk. He cannot hide the fact that he’s impressed that you didn’t undergo a breakdown unlike your classmates and your control towards unyielding resilience. 

“I’m not close to being alive. I am deteriorating!” You groan making sure to imbue your tone to complete sarcasm. You thought that the research defense is the endpoint of the semester, but it wasn’t since the professors have something bigger to offer-- more diabolical. The dean of your college disseminates the mandatory summer classes on all year levels to avoid the crashing of major subjects with organization stuff and to somehow lessen the unit overload. The idea is beneficial albeit disheartening especially for those students who already had plans for the summer like you. What a sweet summer in the university. You shoot him out a look, “How are you alive? Despite all of this?”

“Heavy workload and org stuff is the thing that haunts every student. My professor has consulted me about this matter beforehand,” he grabs his phone and glances at it. His chinky eyes widen and he clears his throat. “We’ll be pushing the brave run next sem.” 

“Is that the annual event of your sorority that you’ll be running around in the campus, naked?”

Doyoung hisses. “Shut up. It should be kept a secret,” he shrugs. “But, yes.”

Another fact why his sorority is famous among the female students of the university. The brave run is an annual event held by his sorority, which symbolizes "a selfless offering of one's self to the people of the country.’ Running around naked with a mask to conceal their identities. And it’s going to be Doyoung’s first run. He fidgets in his spot while looking at you then at his phone. You cast him a doubtful look, “Do you need some privacy or whatever?”

He looks straight from your shoulder. “No, no. Stay put.”

“I wanna sit. I was standing for hours in front a while ago.”

Doyoung presses his lips in a thin line. He lamely mutters. “I will show you something.” He keeps on fidgeting in his place while glancing sideways. It deeply concerns you because he’ll look at his phone then will grin afterwards. Doyoung never grins. What in the world?

He certainly knows something that you’re completely oblivious about. His phone buzzes again. 

[from TY Track] [1:15] I thought your building is white one? How come you’re in a green one? You have a girlfriend from the nursing department don’t you? Ayeeeeeeeee. [1:19] im at the third floor lobby,, where are you?? I’m starving!!

Doyoung is on the fourth floor. Currently playing cupid. 

He gives you a look with a shit-eating grin lingering on his slender face. Not that he looks unpleasant to the eyes since he’s far away from it but rather handsome. But it greatly aggravates you because since that one message he received this morning, he just won’t knock it off with the annoying grin of his. You really need to know who the hell is responsible for his change of demeanor. 

Doyoung is the most misanthropic person you know and he always frowns. Unless he’s with his male friends or with you. Let he’ll freeze first then you’ll see him smile to his ears. He holds a finger near your face, “Wait here.”

You swat his wrist away but before you could knock him off, he’s already marching down the hall. 

“Kim Doyoung! Wait!”

You let out an exasperated sigh while playing with your lace to kill out boredom. Dia whistles to capture your attention. You return back inside your room to fix your things and to entertain the sulky Dia. She pouts, “I’m seriously starving! Let’s go to def!”

Def is the university’s cafeteria where both you and the guy who made your heart pound, met. 

“Okay hold on. Let me sign the attendance sheet for a while.” You approach the class secretary seated in front. Your back is against the door and a familiar figure looms near the door frame—looking lost. 

You’re playing in a full deck. Unaware of the guy who’s once your life, standing behind you. 

Taeyong and his team leaves Busan early at four in the morning with the yellow and pink hue of the sky slowly creeping along its way eating out the velvety dark skies. Taeyong drags his feet heavily against the grey pavement with his athletic bag hoisted on his shoulders. The early morning wind gives a chill blow that prickles the skin of the boxer. 

Taeil is walking behind him with his daily black coffee in hand and face sullen due to drowsiness. The team is moving at a fast pace and occasional long sighs are heard. Taeyong gawks at the team moving dumbbells, mats, gloves and belts in their black van. 

“Does your sorority know you’re coming home?”

Taeyong stares at his manager. His lips tugging upwards. “Yes. I’ve texted one of my friends and suddenly they’re throwing a homecoming party for me.” Taeyong’s chest vibrates with laughter. 

Taeil’s lips tugs upward in mischief as he knocks the hood of the van breaking the deafening silence of the early morning. The team immediately scramble inside the van like ants fighting off with seats, dirty banters and shades being thrown against each other. 

“I’ll sit here!” “It’s cold in that spot, I didn’t take a bath!” Another spits. “The handsomest is gonna seat beside the Kingpin.” Another voice holler. “Oi. Oi. No!”

The manager let out a tired sigh while adjusting the shoulder bag on his right shoulder. He reaches for his back pocket and wipes the droplets of sweats on his temple. “Let’s go, before these guys kill themselves.” 

He calls out with a stern tone rolling out of his tongue it immediately calms the chaotic boys, sheepishly fixing themselves while uttering incoherent apologies. They begin filling up with the manager taking the empty spot beside the driver’s seat. The rest scatter themselves on the spots they deem as comfortable. 

Taeil shoots Taeyong a knowing look and juts his head towards the empty seat beside him near the driver’s seat. Taeil reclines his back on the leathered seats and heaves a long tired sigh. “It’s good to be back. I wish they were preparing roses for your comeback. It felt like Disney, like for shits really.”

Taeyong grins. “Doyoung and Johnny told me about it. Alpha is scrambling like ants.”

Taeil’s voice lowers for a second. His thoughts are swimming in an endless swirl of abyss. “Fighting with McGregor could cause you collateral damage.”

The boxer rests his hand on his nape and closes his eyes for a moment. He knows. He whispers, “I know. May the odds play with my side.”

“This is not about the odds now, he could destroy you, I’m serious!” Taeil scoffs while scanning the view of the early and still asleep city of Busan. “Namjoon fought with him once, and the boy went home with broken ribs and hand fractures,” he trails. “It’s still early to back out. I’m really worried.”

“I am already destroyed, hyung. Ever since I chose this over engineering and leaving like I could really live through all of this…”

“Hyung, if I back out… all of these would just be a whole damned joke.”

“Please…don’t take McGregor easily.”

Taeyong attempts to dismiss the growing anxiety in his chest. One step at a time. One punch at a time, one round at a time. He sets a self mantra. “I won’t.”

The heavy traffic greets them the moment they make their way to the city arriving exactly at twelve.  Upon arrival, the team immediately unloads their baggage on the gym’s connected apartment while the manager nurses several calls about the match with the upcoming weigh in, face off, and budgets. 

Taeyong glances at the gym’s interior. It's a rundown one with a large ring in the center, barbell and dumbbells on the floor and a large mirror from across where he is standing. The lights flicker above him, casting a warm glow of yellow on his face. Taeil squeezes his shoulder, surprised at how he’s so rigid. Taeil begins, “Johnny gave me a call and he said that you should get your flat ass in the university.”

Taeyong throws his head back, mortified. “What? Okay, fat ass.”

Taeil rolls his eyes. “My ass is bomb.”

Taeyong raises his brows. “Squatting?”

“Yeah. Every night, wanna see?”

“I have my own ass.”

“Yeah…a flat one, unfortunately.”

Taeyong grimaces. “My ass is ‘bomb’ too.”

“Keep on dreaming flat ass.”

“Don’t be rude!”

The familiar name of the university greets Taeyong the moment he arrives. Doyoung notifies him of his whereabouts; in the medical department. Taeyong furrows his brows, just when did Doyoung shift his course? He said he’d die being a polsci student. 

Taeyong carries himself towards the familiar sidewalk of this university where he graduated highschool and was supposed to study engineering at. 

However his fate makes a whole turn when he’s casted by an agent when he’s buying bread from the downtown pancake house. And it all just happens just like that, him leaving all of a sudden, ending everything at his loved one’s disposal. 

His boxer facade falters as soon as he steps foot on the familiar grounds. With him here, he isn’t the Kingpin rather just the ordinary Lee Taeyong. He moves agilely, a thing he learned in boxing. His skin shimmers under the hot glimmering sun with his perspiration glistening against his forearms. Taeyong’s doe eyes scans the tall college buildings, looking precisely for a ‘tall building that is colored green with a bunch of people wearing white uniforms’ as per Kim Doyoung. 

A thought erupts in him, it’s been years since his last visit here. Everything before his eyes is entirely unknown for him. He spends a good minute searching for the building while running a hand over his silver locks that are haphazardly tousled in different directions. 

He ignores the flirtatious call of the students. The girls let out exhilarating squeals when he asks about the building and points behind him. Just as he’s about to go, someone yanks his arm dragging him away towards the opposite direction that planted a frown upon his face. He tries to dismiss them as kindly as he could when he sees that there is no way that they’ll be letting him go especially when he looks like a hot mess. 

There’s actually no use in flirting anymore as he’s still emotionally invested for one girl that is you. 

His eyes trail over the unfamiliar building and contemplate for a good minute before entering. The aura of the place elicits the same vibe in the boxing gym of his manager, bright by nature but something elicits off-ness more on sombre. 

His long legs easily climb the series of stairs until he reaches level three and glances around the place. Searching for the familiar figure of Kim Doyoung but he finds nothing even a silhouette of the boy. He fishes out for his phone to send him a text, the mobile vibrating after his taps. 

[from doie] [1:17] we’ll eat later!!!1 i need to show you someone oops something11!! :D [1:18] i'm coming!!! hold on!! Waaait

Taeyong hears rapid footsteps then a high pitch call of his name. A sudden tackle takes him by surprise. “I missed you, hyung!” 

Doyoung holds him at shoulder, his eyes examining his whole body. “You've grown so well and— damn.” 

The boxer standing before him is drastically different from the person he last saw two years ago. He’s not as fit rather skinny but the way he puts it now he’s got a massive glow up that takes him by surprise. With Taeyong by growing inches, his skinny fit that is now lean that is packed with muscles due to the strenuous training he’s put into and the eye catching tattoos that're lingering on his arms. He smirks at the sight of your familiar face minimalistically tattooed on his forearm. 

He inwardly chuckles. Fools. 

Doyoung didn’t waste the fraction of his time and drags a protesting Taeyong all the way at level four. Taeyong throws a questionable look, “What are we here for? Is Donghyuck in Nursing? Wait… are we here for him?”

“You’ll see… and no, let the moon be green first then we’ll see him here.”

“Oh.”

A chill runs down Taeyong’s spine. The heavy traffic they went through made him thirsty to the bone—now he wanted to drain his bladder. He calls out while eyeing the figure ahead of him, “Doyoung?”

Doyoung answers him with a shit-eating grin that made Taeyong think to himself. Is Doyoung in love at the moment? “Yeah?”

“I need to pee. The traffic sucks, I had to drink to keep myself entertained.”

He hums, not processing every word Taeyong says. He calculates everything in his disposal. From his distance, he can see your back facing the door where he’ll lead Taeyong into. Thus, hitting two lovefools. 

“Fancy. Go over to that room.” Taeyong glances at the room Doyoung is pointing at. He didn’t question the boy further because his bladder is asking for a fucking break. He slowly approaches the room while lost in his thoughts. He leans on the doorframe and asks where the lavatory is. Then, immediately jogs down the corridor without a word. 

Doyoung stands there, expectant and all smiley. Until he sees a different face entertaining Taeyong and your figure marching away with your friend, Dia. Doyoung attempts to call for your attention but you’re already out of earshot. He clicks his tongue in irritation. Cupid fails. 

You sluggishly drag your feet inside your room. Doyoung is nowhere to be found until you hear muffled singing so you reckon he’s in the shower doing his thing. You press your lips into a thin line while casting a look around your ransacked room that has been untouched for months. It may be the course of adrenaline pushing and so you cleaned. 

Doyoung walks around the shared place without a top that isn’t a sight that makes you utterly surprised anymore. You both share collective memories together, all deep and humiliation. So seeing him in his boxers early in the morning isn’t disturbing anymore. You do though, when he smiles. 

Doyoung squints, eyeing your figure going from one part of your room to another. He knows you don’t have plans on throwing yourself into the inviting city to lash out your stress from the months you have spent in university but rather dancing. Unbeknownst to you, he’s planning something to stop you from doing your ridiculous dances in front of the farm animals  sparing them the ridiculous sight after all he’s an animal rights advocate. 

Tonight is the homecoming party for Taeyong that surprisingly spreads out in the university like a wildfire. It will be damn-ed as the probability of both of you meeting might not be high due to the flood of party-goers rushing for the free alcohol and the said sorority and because of your lazy ass. Doyoung dons his blank tank top and ruffles the damp mop of raven locks above his head. 

You glance from your door and see your best friend have an absolute glow up like he doesn’t look dead just from days ago. There’s no doubt that Doyoung has his own ravishing features-- his scar, tall nose, pink lips, and the over-all enticing eyes that elicits a mysterious aura.

“Where are you going?” 

Instead of answering your inquiry he taps furiously on his phone. You can sense the infuriating spark that glowers on the boy. He finally looks up at you. “There’s a party in Alpha.”

“You’ll be staying there?”

He coos. The hidden sneer you can hear that rolls out of his tongue with great clarity that immediately brings your eyes heavenwards. “Why? You’ll miss me?”

“As if.”

“I will be staying there. You should go, though?” Doyoung absolutely knows how such a party pooper you were that you’d rather stay home than mingling in a random college party or whatever social gatherings. Your reason? The signature ‘I hate going out, Kim Doyoung’. 

It is part of the practice of his sorority to give out roses to a homecoming member, as significant as a welcoming gift and roses have a deep meaning for the frat. He volunteers to bring the roses for Taeyong since he has a cupid business to attend. He purposely left the roses in his room for you to bring your lazy ass in the sorority house and deliver the parcel to Taeyong. He grins at the thought.

You grunt loudly, generally having no qualms on concealing your obvious irritation. “Why do you keep on grinning? It scares me.”

Doyoung raises a brow then chuckles afterwards. “I’m just happy that I will finally get laid after these past months of hellish semester,” he trails off and gives you a knowing look. “Bye!”

It got you off guard. Kim Doyoung getting laid?

He beams at your surprised face. “I will be late. The alumni might be there anytime soon.”

“Who is the alumni?” This has been the talk of the town next to the homecoming party. You have no idea who it is despite your best friend being in on the said sorority. 

Doyoung runs his hands over his hair again and gives you a lopsided smile. “Secret.” 

He makes a dash for the door leaving you hanging and hungry for answers. Knowing him, he’ll never spill no matter how you squeeze him into doing so. It frustrates you as curiosity is getting the best of you.

Doyoung didn't bother to spill the person because for all he knows you’ll be meeting him anytime soon. It’s Lee Taeyong.

It's eight in the evening and surprisingly you were being productive at bare minimum. You try to uplift your mood by beautifying your room to look like it���s been owned by a lady not some random drunktard. After cleaning, you prepare dinner but the constant ringing of your phone disturbs you mid-way. You didn’t spare the called ID a glance for you know who the call is from. 

You snarl. “What?”

The chaotic music in his background is making it hard for you to comprehend what the hell he was trying to convey. His voice lowers two tones down his usual. “Hey, can you bring the roses here? I forgot to bring it with me.” 

You immediately roll your eyes. “And why should I do that?”

Doyoung on the other hand is trying to rake up his brain for possible things to coax you to bring your ass and the roses in the party. The alcohol might be taking a toll on him but it’s helping him to think of an easy plan to bring you here without any questions arising from your mouth. “I’ll treat you to dinner.” And just like that. 

You let your pride be damned. A free dinner is always a key to do favors. You huff. “Where is it placed?”

Doyoung immediately grins. “At my room, on the plush chair by the window.”

You cannot decipher how complicated your best friend is sometimes. It aggravates you. He never forgets his things and you think that he is doing this on purpose just to make you walk out of the shared apartment. But whatever his intentions are, the free dinner he coaxed you with is promising. You walk inside his room and the sight of his perfectly tucked bed welcomes you, the bundle of crimson red roses sits by the grey chair just beside his window. You didn’t know much of his sorority’s practice nor the significance of the rose, but you chose not to further question the frat’s motive behind it as the free food is your topmost concern.

You scramble out of Doyoung’s room to fix your dishevelled appearance. You grab the blue summer dress on your bed and thrash in an oversized cardigan to spice out the look then you pumped some gloss and ran a blusher on your cheeks. 

Damn the man who spoils your plans on binge watching Netflix. Damn Kim Doyoung. And damn you for biting on his bait. 

You made a beeline for the door, your phone in hand and the roses in the other. 

It’s gonna be a long and young night. 

For a summer night, the wind is surprisingly chilly and not humid. The night sky is clear with the stars twinkling brightly along the perfectly arched moon. The walk to Alpha chi omega’s house is not that long by car but unfortunately, the university carpool is not available and so here you were walking to the farthest side of the university. 

It doesn’t take you long to locate the house out of all the similar frat houses lined up together like building blocks. The house that belongs to the hosting sorority is booming out loud with obnoxious music and the notable crowd of wasted college students going in and out of the main door. The place reeks of sweat and alcohol. The sight of red cups litters the front yard and the large ‘homecoming’ banner is perched up the front porch of the frat house. You feel out of place just by standing out there awkwardly with a bouquet of roses in hand while mentally cursing out and throwing imaginary daggers on Kim Doyoung. If it wasn’t for the free food, you would never be here. 

A familiar ass caught your attention but it isn’t Johnny’s but Mark Lee’s. A sophomore and a civil engineer major that you bump into occasionally because of Doyoung. You approach his figure and his dishevelled state really caught you off-guard. He’s standing in his overall glory; with black tee that clings onto his lean torso and grey sweatpants. His high cheekbones stand out and his cheeks are slightly flushed due to two reasons you are sure of, alcohol and the cramped crowd inside. 

You clear your throat as you attempt to voice out your concern however it comes out as a mere squeak. “Do you know where Doyoung is?”

Mark gives you a knowing smile while giving you directions on Doyoungs whereabouts. There’s something off about Mark’s sly smile. Confusion undulates on your soft features which made the younger grin even more. 

Another sophomore jumps into the picture. He sends Mark reeling on his position but the younger boy shoots up a grin as an answer to Mark’s scowl. His tan skin glows under the poor lighting on the front porch of their sorority house and he looks beautiful nevertheless. Haechan brings the red cup to his plush lips, his throat bobbing down with every gulp of the beverage. He breaths while giving you a mischievous grin. “Well, someone’s about to cross paths with someone.” He makes sure to give emphasis on the word someone while grinning up to Mark. 

You raise your brows. “Yes… Doyoung.”

Haechan clicks his tongue. “May the odds be with you, y/n.” They continue on gulping their drinks and leaving you questioning what the hell are they trying to imply. It seems like they are trying to point out someone is about to meet you but you weren’t sure who?

Making sure you were out of earshot, the two boys fished out for their phones. Typing in the same text flying into their minds.

‘She’s in, make sure Taeyong is in the damn kitchen.’

They know. Except for you and Taeyong. Talk about thrill. 

You stalk away and enter the house. Irritation bubbles inside your system like a brook. It feels as if everyone knows something that you should be aware of. No matter how hard you try to think of a person who you can possibly meet in here, there’s none in mind. You try to wipe it away by mentally taking a note that what you are doing is a commission; a full course meal paid by Kim Doyoung. 

The sight inside of the house is quite a scene; a wild scene to be exact. Typical. Bodies are grinding each other by the beat of the hired DJ, sweat and alcohol as well as humidity. You squeeze yourself through the crowd of wild college students. Some sort of liquid splashes your skin but you paid no attention to it. 

This is why you hate going out. The only time you have been dragged into a party is with Taeyong. No, it wasn’t obnoxious but rather magical. Anything done with Taeyong is always spectacular, he makes all the mundane things dull to extra. 

That was during the last years of highschool when he asked if you could go with him to this frat party and you obliged. It was also in the same setting of a summer night, young and chill. Deja vu. 

Taeyong holds onto your hips that night while he glowed perfectly underneath the pale moonlight. The dusk may have taken its way that time but you can still remember how bright he glows like a crazed halo. Maybe the reason why you can still find your way to the outskirts of the university where the sorority houses are found is because he already brought you here. And everything, every memory you have shared with him is always indelible. 

You can remember a quote from Fitzgerald. ‘So we beat on boats against the currents, borne back ceaselessly into the past’. You find yourself spacing out remembering how his soft lips brushes against your pinna, whispering words that replays over and over and over again. Both of your bodies stayed close, swaying with the melodic beat that the speakers blasted up. It was always Taeyong, his scar, his lips, his eyes that are always so alive. It was always him, always. 

Taeyong leaned over saying the words that no man you tried dated ever uttered to you. “You are my sweetest feeling that I know.”

You beamed up to him. “I think my soul is in love with yours.” 

And you will always be. And nostalgia hits. You miss Taeyong. He has so much space filled inside your heart. 

You finally squeeze yourself past the hungry and wasted crowd and head towards the kitchen where Mark instructed you to go. You narrow your eyes searching for the familiar figure of your bestfriend but he wasn’t there, not even a trace of his silhouette. 

The kitchen is bustling with alcohol. Piles of beer cans, half empty bottles of wine and few bottles of soft drinks dominated the sleek black granite countertop. You walk near the kitchen island where several drinks are offered placed haphazardly allowing the people to nurse their own drinks. You had your back facing the opposite hall that leads to the dining area while clutching the roses for your dear life. 

Taeyong is leaning against the wall facing the dining area where his highschool friends are currently at. The rose ceremony was delayed because of Doyoung and so he busied himself by trying to catch up with his old friends. 

“How’s life so far, Taeyong?”

Taeyong smiles, he’s always as fresh as raindrops. “Usual.” 

They laugh. “How ‘usual’ is usual though?”

Taeyong thought to himself. It is bland, empty and he always finds himself staring past the mirror trying to remember how your face looks like since the last glance he had was exactly two years ago. He shrugs his shoulders and lifts the red cup to his lips. The alcohol rakes his throat, foreign. “A couple of punches here, training there, matches here, and rings over there. Usual.”

They continue on carrying their own conversation on which Taeyong lost interest. He just stares, his mind traveling and wandering. A high pitched screech alerts him, he immediately settles the cup down, the contents splashing over the dinner table. A woman is on her knees, clutching her lips with her hands. 

Taeyong immediately crouches down. “Hey, are you okay?”

She slurs and Taeyong tries to comprehend what she is trying to convey. “Wuh-teeeeer…”

“Huh?”

“Wuuuuh-teeer…”

Water. 

He immediately assists the girl to the kitchen sink. Dragging her slumped body slowly towards the kitchen floor. He tries to call out someone in hopes to help him with the inconvenience. But the kitchen is surprisingly empty. 

It’s a plan to have two souls meet together in one. But fate must’ve fucked up the plans of the brotherhood. For the one soul is mending a random wasted college girl and the other one is fuming in anger. 

You storm out of the kitchen when you are about to brandish a cocktail while waiting for Doyoung. Someone approaches you, pouring a beer into a red plastic cup. 

“All right, babe, you’re free tonight?” He nods, concentrating on getting his foam right while looking at you intently. You didn’t know who this guy was, but bold of him to be so overly confident. Pity he was a massive stoner from the looks of his red eyes. And he’s not, never, your type. 

“I’m not interested.”

His eyebrows went all sarky. “Why, you got a date?”

You face him entirely. “Look. I told you I’m not interested so don’t get too overly friendly and get the hell out of my face.”

He settles his cup on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest while leaning over to you, clearly invading your personal space. “Why should I do that?” 

You wrinkle your nose at the smell of his breath. “God. I’m out of here.”

You let your feet drag you away from the party. 

Oblivious to the failure, the other members of the sorority gather themselves around the front porch obnoxiously betting to one another. They have this one picture in mind, a painting of Michaelangelo, the creation of David. Where two fingers connect. Little did they know. There isn’t a meeting that happened in the first place. 

“I bet my ass, those two have already met!” Hyuck yells. “Homeboy must’ve scored!” 

And they all holler at once. Then, they hear someone clearing their throat. 

“Goodbye. I’m heading home.”

The boy’s eyes widens at the sight of you at the door, fuming. Doyoung is at the end of the staircase, examining you. He inquires, “Did you meet someone?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, you,” you approach him and hand the roses. “Someone must’ve been so drunk he directed me to the kitchen when you are actually here.” You shoot Mark a look as soon as you finish your sentence and he answers with a sheepish grin.  

You turn to Doyoung, “Treat me to a nice dinner tomorrow.”

It’s confusing for him. “Wait… you really didn’t meet someone? Why are you leaving so sudden?”

The boys quiet down suddenly, all confused with the matter. 

“Oh, I did meet someone.”

“Yeah?” Sparks of excitement ignited inside Doyoung's chest. 

“Yeah…” you sigh. “A fucktard to be exact.”

Doyoung’s brows furrow for a moment then realization hits him. There’s never an encounter that happened like he initially expected to. The roses didn’t reach Taeyong. And you were also mad which is uncommon. You clear your throat again, “I will head home.” 

You lightly smack Doyoung cheeks and head off. 

“No way Taeyong is…a fucktard though?” 

“Man, go home you’re drunk.”

“I heard my name.” All heads whip towards the direction of the voice. Taeyong. 

A confused silence filled their friend circle before Mark interrupted mid-way, “No way Ty....”

They all groan in disappointment. The roses shenanigans didn’t work. 

Johnny slurs. “Maaaaaan, if someone didn’t get a shot. I’ll be getting my own shot.” And he stumbles on his own feet and lands on Mark and accidentally kisses him on the lips. 

Mark immediately pushes the taller guy away from him. A scowl paints his face while wiping his lips furiously. “Maaaan, what the fuck are youu doin’ maaan?”

Johnny yells, “No homo, bro!” And continues on peppering the protesting Mark with kisses. 

Sunday arrives faster than you have expected it to be. The professors were much more considerate with the classes and decided to have an interval for each class so it’ll be less of a burden for the students. After the party from Doyoung’s sorority everything seems to be a cultural reset from partying to lessons real quick. This is college and you are really accustomed to it. 

You ponder, there is just something—sort of difference in the air surrounding you and Doyoung—something like he’s been plotting something so evil or mischievous and it kneads in your chest that you’re the prey. Or whatever that is. 

He doesn’t say a word when you drag him to a restaurant of your choice but you are pretty much sure that deep inside he’s cursing you with all his might. You try to annoy him, testing his patience yet he answers you with a forced smile. But the way his eyes spark with such animosity is enough evidence to show how infuriated he is that he needs to pay for your dinner. And too bad for him, you have a big appetite. 

“What do you fancy eating today? Stir fried rice, or,” he stares dumbfoundedly at the large menu while scratching the back of his head. He mumbles incoherently, “I will just go with the black bean noodles.”

Doyoung’s body turns around towards your direction, “What do you want?”

You state all of your orders and you can clearly see the way Doyoung’s face grimaces. The cashier jots down the orders and Doyoung pays the bill with a pained expression ebbing his face. It was beyond entertaining when he was clutching the bill so tightly, the cashier had to muster such great effort to pull away the bill out of his iron grip. It was his fault anyways; he’s being such an idiot. 

“How’s your major?” you beam while mixing the fried rice. The mouth-watering sight in front of you made your stomach turn somersaults. Has it been months since you have eaten legit food? You didn’t know but right now you just want to stuff yourself up. Free food is always much more tastier than those that you pay for. 

“I’m taking up three units for fundamentals of political science,” he blows up the searing hot noodles and slurps it all. Doyoung’s cheeks puffs as he chomps loudly on his food. 

There’s a deafening silence between both of you. Minding your own businesses until Doyoung’s phone rings obnoxiously, disturbing each other’s peace. He picks up the vibrating phone with his lithe fingers and scowls at the caller ID, “What?”

You stare at him in silence. Still devouring the freshly served food on the table. Doyoung dramatically settles his phone on the table. An expression of agony painting his slender face. You ask, “What?”

He never tries to conceal the words he just spatted. Making you wanna hide away in embarrassment as the other customers shot you both dirty looks. “I want to poop.”

It’s taking a whole lot of effort for you to not headbutt the raven haired boy that is sheepishly grinning at you. You really do. The straightforwardness of Kim Doyoung can be excruciating for the people around him and you are not an exception. 

You grit your teeth, “Then go! I don’t have the loo with me! Jesus Christ!” 

He raises his brows and settles his chopsticks on the table. He clutches his chest. “After the good deed I have done to you, this is what you are gonna pay me back? You’re heartless.”

Alright, the weight of his statement has hit you straight to the gut. You try with plenty of effort not to shoot him a leer. You clear your throat and push away the growing impatience as you hoist your bag to your shoulders ready to get something for him. With the conscience card that he has recently pulled, you know he wants you to get him something. “What do you want?”

He smiles and uncoils from his slouch, rising to his full height emitting this smug superiority. “Gatorade.”

You squint your eyes and muster the deadliest death glare you can throw towards him. “You’re lying like… what is the gatorade for? You’re clearly making me pay you in return!”

He frowns at your claim. “I’m dehydrated. I chugged down plenty of beer, do you think that’ll make my stomach happy? Do you want me to fart on you to further support my claim?”

You roll your eyes in disbelief, “You’re gross.”

“I’m just trying to support my claim.”

“How? By broadcasting your physical state?”

He tries to open his mouth for another retort yet you immediately wave your hands in defeat. Bickering with him is like talking to a smart wall. He will try to twist everything until you want to give up, like practically shoving your head underwater. And the fact that he’s a political science student, of course arguing is one of his best specialties. 

You left as soon as both of you finished your meals. You rake up your brain of possible stores that sell Gatorade and the first thing that has popped into your mind was the convenience store on the east avenue that used to be you and Taeyong’s favorite spot. The memories flood your brain. 

“What does it taste like?” Taeyong asks, his brown orbs staring at you with such longing. 

“Sweet.”

He raises his brows, “Oh?”

“Yeah, have a taste,” you offer him the sponge cake you’ve been munching a while ago. You extend your arm in his direction and scroll absently on your phone. Before you can even complain about why it is taking him a long time to have a taste, his lips are already smashed against yours. 

Goosebumps immediately rises up to its wake upon the feeling of Taeyong’s lips on yours. This is your favorite feeling, something that only Taeyong can do to you. His tongue grazes your lower lip in a deliciously slow pace of which made you enthralled in the process. In response, you part your mouth to meet him halfway. 

He pulls back and smiles at you. “It’s so sweet, like you.”

You immediately blink to snap away from your reverie. You whisper underneath your breath, “Focus, y/n.”

Two years. Two fucking years have passed yet you are still drowning with the memories of him. 

The chime resonates in the store, signaling your recent arrival. The cashier gives you a curt nod then returns to sort out the products that lay on the countertop. You immediately made a beeline for the freezers at the farthest part of the store and grabbed the striking blue drink that appeared similarly like those occasional highlights on Doyoung’s hair. You sigh while clutching the cold beverage, “Just like his stupid highlights.”

It happens so fast that you cannot decipher the scene that unfolds before you. A figure looms behind you grabbing a watermelon smoothie, his body slightly clashing on yours when you attempt to walk towards the cashier. He is clearly towering over your height and his back is facing you. The guy’s shampoo or cologne has a tinge of a melon undertone that really reminds you of Taeyong of which derives from the fact that he is standing so close to you. Secondly, you can feel the humming warmth that radiates off his body. You gulp hard. 

You mentally curse at tangling yourself in an awkward situation. You should leave yet you find your face heating up, stunned with your brain freezing. You pause for a good minute to observe the stranger.

A chill runs down your spine at the sudden feeling and the proximity. You clearly know that this guy is a stranger, but there is a sudden feeling erupting inside you and your mind is coaxing you that he isn’t. He’s not a stranger. You stare at his back, trying to rake up who possibly this guy is. He had a mop of grey hair, dangling earrings on each side and a driven aura. You reckon he is handsome as well, judging by the way he can carry himself through the store. Your mind is in a state of an endless blackhole, empty. All you could think is the fact that his alluring scent has you biting inside of your cheeks and ogling at him shamelessly. 

The guys must be feeling the heavy weight of your gaze from behind. And so, he turns his head slightly to his right giving you the sight of his ungodly sharp jawline. You didn’t get a good sight of his eyes since it’s covered by the occasional strands of his titanium colored hair. You blink hard, that fucking jaw is really familiar. The fucking tall nose is familiar. The guy nods his head in veneration and whispers a small “sorry.” And stalks away. You hear the bell chimes. 

Your heart starts to slam against your chest out of nowhere when you finally formed all the puzzle pieces together. That familiar voice lacing with softness and care. The hair, the jaw, the nose, the way he dresses. No, this isn’t just one of your imaginations. You know, it’s him, isn’t he? 

You make your way through the snacks aisle to chase after the guy. He’s just inches away from the door when you suddenly grab his jacket sleeve. You smile, “Taeyong?”

“Uhm… do I know you?”

Your expression suddenly drops. The guy you just pull in is not the guy from earlier. He looks foreign with his hair in the shade of burgundy. You sheepishly apologize, but it comes out as a mere squeak from embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I think I have mistaken you for someone else.”

“No shit. It’s alright.”

You pay for the beverage and snatch the parcel. You scramble to your feet quickly in hopes of searching for him. You know deep down, you’re sure of it. You crane your neck as far as you can possibly go until a voice laced from behind. 

“What the fuck are you doing? And where’s my drink?”

You whip your body towards him and hand him the Gatorade. 

Doyoung frowns. He tries to conceal the growing annoyance from his insides. Trying to act like his stomach frustrates him but the truth is, he is actually infuriated by the fact that Taeyong left the store so soon before you could even reach him. And he sees the scene unfold to himself. He huffs. With all the meticulous planning he thinks of, plus the help of his friends but still it isn’t enough that everything is derailing his momentum. Not just you and Taeyong but fucking fate itself. 

At this moment all Doyoung thinks of is a ceasefire, he gives up. He’s one everything—including faking an upset stomach and practically broadcasting that he wants to shit just for the sake of both of you because Johnny notifies him of Taeyong’s whereabouts. Doyoung’s face is quite red by the chilly wind of Sunday night. He announces after trying to cool down his frustrations, “I’m going home.”

You raise your brow, “But you said we’ll still eat downtown?”

Doyoung glares. Now he’s back with his usual demeanor that you could easily taunt by throwing him a series of provocations. But you choose not to, he seems to be in a really bad mood. Not to mention diarrhea lies that you seem to be picking up. “I’m mending a stupid stomach.”

And before you could pull him back, his long legs already take him a long distance from yours. 

Your feet backs up automatically and blend into the crowd. You cover your cheeks with your hands trying to wipe off the chilly wind that kisses you. Your summer dress’s hem flies after the sway of your hips. The adrenaline is still coursing through your veins due to the last encounter with the stranger in the convenience store. His alluring scent is still fresh in your mind and it only reminds you of the guy you are still obviously in love with. You shouldn’t be anymore, but there is still a spark that ignites through your chest.  And in your mind there is this feeling of familiarity that lights up the fire that has long died two years ago. It’s not just a plain sense of belonging though, it’s Taeyong, and he always feels like home. It’s been two years since Taeyong ended everything nicely. Yet something is quite strange as the feeling of longing for him suddenly went away with just a simple encounter that you weren’t even sure if it’s him in the first place. 

You utter to yourself, “It’s him, I’m sure of it.”

But the never ending question plays around your mind like a broken record. Are you really sure? Are you ready to face him after two long years?

You hug your figure as you make your way through the same familiar tracks of your favorite pancake house in the main district. You should be home right now, yet the alluring scent of pancakes has you dragging your feet into their shop. 

The small shabby shop that is designed with occasional aesthetic trinkets makes it stand out amongst the industrial buildings beside it. It is bustling and alive with the swarm of people going in and out of their main door, stomachs full and satisfied faces. You enter the door swiftly, the scent of freshly cooked pancakes thrills inside your nostrils. The familiar tune of summer by Calvin Harris blasts on the speakers in the small diner. 

When I met you in the summer To my heartbeat sound We fell in love As the leaves turned brown

The diner is very crowded tonight. You struggle to go past through the crowds but you understand, the pancakes they sell here is to die for. 

And we could be together baby As long as skies are blue You act so innocent now But you lied so soon When I met you in the summer

Your face immediately lights up when the cashier hands you the awe-striking sight of the freshly cooked pancakes, flooding with maple syrup with occasional strawberries there and frostings that adorn the stacks. You took a whiff of the familiar cologne with a watermelon undertone from a while ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus especially when a pancake is making you so thrilled to eat. 

The bustling sound of the city mixes with the catchy tune of summer and you find yourself dancing slightly along it’s melody. The lights above you cast a warm yellow glow on your face while you are waiting for a change. You answer the cashier with a smile when she hands you the cash. When you turn around, it wasn’t the aesthetic decoration of the diner that surprises you. But your ex boyfriend’s handsome face comes to your view. Your heart pounds inside your chest, yes you were longing for him, and there he is. Fate plays. 

When I met you in summer. 

You whisper but Taeyong manages to hear that soft call that he fucking miss so much. Those plump lips of yours that utter his name with such love and endearment, “Taeyong.”

It takes you, well, a whole hour to plop down and listen to your best friend rant about you and Taeyong. The way he did plan everything but according to him,

“Fuck fate. Fuck destiny. But I’m glad though, even if I look like a villain trying to overthrow you two.”

You just know that he is beyond frustrated that he didn’t get the both of you meet with his own mirthful ways but nevertheless, he is happy. You, on the other hand, are still shocked. Not that you had a bitter feeling, but Taeyong really had a drastic change compared to two years ago. You barely even know him. 

It comes to your knowledge that he is really famous now, with his alias Kingpin plastered all over the city. He got home for a match with this Gregory guy that you haven’t heard of which is the fact that you are oblivious to it, all of it. Taeyong was stunned that you didn’t know anything about him or boxing, and you felt bad and so you made a mental note to research about it and him. He looks much more handsome than ever. With his doe eyes that hold a strong sense of contradiction, it’s strong full of aura and fire yet soft and endearing at the same time. The favorite rose like scar is still prominent underneath his right eye. His nose. His lips, those lips, it takes you an ounce of effort to hold back and not to think of unnecessary thoughts while observing the way how slow his mouth opens whenever he speaks or how pinkish it appears. 

Doyoung asks you while he plops himself comfortably on your bed. “What happened in the pancake house?”

It is awkward. 

After you whisper his name it feels like everything stopped. Both of you are like statues glued to your spots, holding deep eye contact. You can feel yourself flustered underneath his strong gaze. Those gaze that gives you an impression that he’s been undressing you already just with those eyes. It lasts for seconds, until you are both shushed by the staff for the queue is getting long. 

You flinch but relax the moment after when Taeyong’s hands found its way to your hips. Just like old times. He didn’t utter a word, instead he’d silently lead you to the table just near the door. You immediately elicit a gasp when the warmth of his hands suddenly disappeared. You blink hard then place your plate down and silently nibble on the edges of the pancake waiting for Taeyong’s arrival. 

Now that he’s much nearer, you can smell his strong scent. It doesn’t hurt your nose but the watermelon undertone stays in your nose for a while. A chill runs down your smile when he has plopped down comfortably in his seat giving you a fresh smile that makes your heart pound against your chest out of nowhere. 

Taeyong is itching to talk to you. He clears his throat, “So… I didn’t know you were actually staying here.”

You really couldn’t get a control of your voice, instead it came out really weak and not as strong as you hoped it would be. Out of all moments, your body is slowly betraying you upon the sight of the beautiful Taeyong. You really pray that he doesn’t catch you on. “I didn’t reach the quota in Missouri, and then the application period for Hansville is already closed. So I just stayed, I hate new enviro—”

Just as you could mention the environment, Taeyong already did. He gives you a playful look, “Environment?” There’s actually no point in small talk, because Taeyong knows everything about you but he did just for the sake of seeing you, your lips, your beauty, he’s risking it all. 

You feel your chest vibrate with laughter, “You couldn’t blame me though, I hate people.”

Taeyong grins. But his eyes are glimmering of darkness that surfaces his orbs. Taeyong knows and he sees it all, his overall effect on you. His lips start to stretch more into a wolfish grin while inching closer to you. 

You instantly gulp while staring at him back. “Why?”

“Are you really sure about that, y/n sweetheart?” His breath smells like mint that fans out your cheeks when he slowly dragged those words from his tongue. Casting instant warmth over your cheeks and activating your gooseflesh. 

You find yourself struggling for words upon the catch of his old nickname for you. Especially when he’s in this state, the usual laid back manner. You hate people alright, but you had exceptions like Dia, Doyoung and unfortunately him as well. He immediately retracts from slouching and straightens up his posture. He licks his bottom lips slowly. Honestly, watching Taeyong is making you suffer internally. 

“I really missed you, y/n.” He says, his voice echoing with deep timber that laces with velvet and sweet. But those words aren't imbued with sarcasm or mockery rather laced with deep sincerity. 

Those words somehow pinches you. You do right? But there is something holding you back. Fear? You let out a grin but it looked really forced with all your teeth gritted. “It was good seeing you again, Taeyong.” You clear your throat for the nth time and try to push out the strange feeling away in your gut. 

Both of you finish up your pancakes and he offers you a walk to your apartment. Both of you are not speaking letting the summer wind speak for both of you. The familiar building welcomes your sight, there is light in your unit’s window so you reckon Doyoung is still with the world. Taeyong clears his throat and stops in his tracks, “I guess this is your home, no?”

You smile, “Yes.”

He approaches you with such agility in an astounding manner. You catch a whiff of those familiar fruity scents again when he leans closer to you. In response you immediately shut your eyes, expecting. But there are no kisses delivered. Way to go and make yourself a fool. 

He chuckles. “Can I get your number?”

Your whole face heats up as if you’ve been submerged in a tub of boiling water. You open your eyes and divert your gaze away from his playful ones. “Of course, Hand me your phone.”

“Just scribble it down my forearm.”

“What?”

“My phone died but I got some marker, so just jot the digits down.” He fishes for the pen and hands it to you. His calloused hands brushing yours, and those small forms of touch still delivers the extreme effects to your body. 

Those sinful arms. Your fingers are shaking while jotting your numbers down, his bulging veins are too much of a distraction especially whenever he flexes it. 

You bid him goodbye and speed walk away to enter your unit, missing the smile that ghosts his lips at your marching figure. 

You couldn’t wipe Taeyong’s images that night from your mind and so does he. Hell, If you can just see how those smile never leaving his face at his unexpected meeting with you. 

The sound of a rustling bedsheet snaps you to reality. 

You stare at Doyoung. “It was okay.”

His brows arch upwards as if mocking you. “Liar.”

Heaven knows it wasn’t just okay, you indeed enjoyed having him as company. 

An exasperated groan leaves out your body as the bell rang obnoxiously signaling the end of the final period. You immediately hoist your bag over your shoulder and march away from the school as fast as you could. 

Unbeknownst to you, you are crossing paths with Taeyong in a day more than you had imagined. Just yesterday, you bump into him just when you were thinking about him. And his divine sight welcomes you, with his sun-kissed skin shimmering underneath the rays of the summer sun, his neck glistening with a thin sheen of sweat and those eyes that ignites with unexplainable aura and intensity. 

You hate to admit but he has changed so drastically and you could use the term cool, to describe him and his current state. You see him jog around the oval with his titanium hair striking up giving more emphasis to his sharp features. It’s parted haphazardly and damp. His tank top is clinging to his torso soaked with perspiration. His biceps strains out, he’s not that bulky type but with occasional muscles here and there, his physique is much more lean. And with just those charismatic looks, it never fails to send you a pool of pleasure, there. 

You feel a shiver when he turns around and runs a finger to his hair. His prominent veins bulged out as he tugged on his hair, fixing it into place. Your eyes trail down further until you see his abs on full display, coming to your view. 

Fuck. Fuck everything and your raging hormones. You immediately return your gaze up to his face and you feel your face heating up when it comes to your realization that he’s been observing you as well. His gaze never leaves yours, then one moment, he lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe off his face. Giving you the view that you've been ogling at. He knows what you like and he’s giving it to you without any protest. 

The sun shines through the oval, casting a yellowish glow on his body. His soft flesh is glowing with the occasional tattoos adorning his ribcage. You immediately gulp in hopes to diminish the growing sensation blooming in your stomach. But it never left, especially when Taeyong’s smile is being shot out towards your direction. 

He’s really pleased to see you, especially seeing you in that body fitting uniform that makes him go hard on a summer’s day. 

He approaches you without wiping the smile off his face. You fidget while trying to compose yourself not wanting to embarrass yourself much further. The night when you met him the first is enough. 

“Fancy seeing you here. Are you headed home?”

“I ought to but I think I want to take a walk to the park.” 

The bag straps dares to slip out of your shoulders. You utter an incoherent, “fuck.”

Taeyong immediately changes his expression. He looks at you in concern as he catches on your discomfort. “Why? Is there something wrong?”

“Oh… it’s just that the professor advised us to bring all three books for a collaborative reading but he didn’t show up.”

“Hmm…”

“And then I was tasked to report to the home room adviser so practically I have to carry out these heavy books while climbing up to the fourth floor.”

You immediately shut your mouth and your rants when you saw how he grew silent. You bit your lip and apologized meekly, “Sorry, I was just so tired from the summer class and this bag—”

He doesn’t utter a word but he grabs the bag away from you even before you can protest. He groans, “Damn, these are heavy.”

“They are.”

He stretches out his hand to you. “Come, let’s go to the park.”

You protest. Your eyes widening at his declaration. “But… but, you still have your training?”

“Nah. I can make time.”

And he pulls you away. His hand holding you dearly, just like old times. The warmth of his hands filling up those spots of yearning you had from his two year disappearance. 

The walk to the nearest park wasn’t as deadly silent like the first night you both met. With both of your shoulders bumping and hands intertwined. You were not holding back anymore, clearly stating all of your distaste towards your college professors passionately with Taeyong chuckling in response. The conversation carries on smoothly filling out the gap that both of you had withdrawn from the years of absent communication. It’s filling out the space as both of you are talking about the randomness in all things possible not letting the implicit dead air eat out the aura engulfing you two. 

Taeyong is not much of a talker, but when he does, everything that rolls out of his tongue could really hold a significant place in the listener’s memory. This fact still piques you up at the sight of his doe eyes quietly invested whenever you talk. You are always the talker between the two of you. 

You can notice it from your periphery. You can feel the heavy weight of his drowning gaze piercing right through you as he examines you with such curiosity. You halt at your impending speech about student organization, feeling a lot more hotter than usual. The silence ebbed its way like how a beacon flies away from a started up fire. You let out a sharp intake of breath as you muster all your courage to reciprocate his heavy gaze. 

You let out an airy laugh, “Is there something on my face?”

The way his demeanor changes drastically before your very eyes. His deep eyes are luminous, that made you feel some sort of deep mystification. His eyes are clearly looking at something through you, or searching for something to mend a yearning that is situated deep in his chest. He missed looking at your face, and a single gaze couldn’t fill those years of him trying to familiarize your face with those dusts in his memory. 

“You’ve changed so much,” he says. His eyes are not leaving yours. You could almost feel some tinge of connection with just the way he stares down at you with deep adoration. That shoots out a simmering feel underneath your skin and painting out your face with searing hotness. 

You try to conceal yourself by clearing your throat. “How do you know?”

“I keep on looking at you.”

“I can see that,” you state in a matter of fact. Challenging him further, “why is that?”

His lips immediately tugs upright at the change of your tone. He pushes in, further stretching out your curiosity, “Do you really wanna know?”

“Why?”

He blinks slowly, his eyelashes slightly fluttering against his eyelids. He opens his lips, “I wanna feel those lips again.”

You gulp hard when you see his gaze drops down to your lip level. That is the same thing you were thinking of the first time you saw him, don’t you? You also gawk at his as well, playing along the colors of a pale pink rose and crimson chrysanthemums. You can feel your brain struggling out to think of a thing to get away in this scenario you are in, instead you are lost in thought while looking at his lips. You definitely want to feel those lips as well. 

“Why don’t you do it then?”

You lift the edges of your lips into a playful smile testing out the very edge of Taeyong’s patience. You must’ve stunned him at your vulgarity since he is opening his mouth for a retort but nothing rolls out. 

“A-are you sure?”

This is the connection you were talking about. The constant pounding of both of your hearts are beating in sync against your rib cages. Feeling the same sense of want for each other’s touch. The butterflies flying around your stomach in an erratic manner. 

“Do it.”

You thought he’s gonna hold back, but the sudden feeling of his lips crashing on yours had you sending in a skyrocketing ecstasy. 

You didn’t get a hold of how long it has been, but all you can think of how sensual everything is. Goosebumps arise on your skin at the feeling of Taeyong’s tongue slowly grazing then nibbling on the plump flesh of your lower lip. You unconsciously let out a quiet moan that gave him access to meet you along the process. 

Taeyong relaxes for a bit and you feel his hands slowly crawling up your arm and find its spot and settle it softly on your jaw. He caresses you slowly with such delicacy, afraid to give you a scratch. You are really lost with his mouth connected with yours. You are too stunned to think of something but it felt magical and passionate. 

He slightly tilts his head towards his left and pushes your face more into him to deepen the kiss. His tongue grazing through the underside of your mouth. 

He breaks the kiss, but his hands never left your cheeks. His forehead is resting on yours, a smile is ghosting his lips but his eyes are closed. He whispers your name sweetly causing a feeling of sparks igniting inside your chest. You rest your hands on his shoulders, gripping on it for dear life and to calm your nerves. 

You can see the slow flutters of his eyelashes and how it cast a hollow shadow on his cheekbones. His breath slightly fans your face and you find yourself ticklish. He finally opens his eyes and how it holds such light, alive like the galaxy. He gives you a smile, “I really missed this.”

Then he leaned again to press on several small kisses, peppering your face with his lips while making smooch sounds. You immediately let out a giggle. His touch stays put, hot and tantalizing you can almost feel yourself burning. 

This is what Taeyong has been dreaming of. How he yearns for that tinge of strawberry that he only gets to taste whenever he’s kissing you. You taste so sweet. Overly saccharine it made him much more alive. 

Days past to weeks. It’s a routine like you expected it, impending torment every morning which is summer classes. But someone has added some spice to your monotonous life; Lee Taeyong. There has been a change in the atmosphere engulfing both of you— something that touches a nostalgic feeling — a slight nudge to your heart. 

He is currently leaning at the back door frame of your classroom. Watching you struggle to finish up an essay that is currently due in fifteen minutes. That is exactly the sight he would die to see. 

“Start with the main points first before you elaborate the sub points,” he beams. Good thing, you are situated at the very back and so you are both out of ear shot. You press your brows all together, concentrating on the damn vague subject but the scent of Taeyong is too distracting. 

He crouches down and snatches the pen away from you, scribbling a lopsided pyramid with all the words as your starter. You stare at him and he gives you a smile in return. The way his eyes turn into moon crescents that made your heart churn. Do you really deserve those smiles? 

He whispers proudly, “There. That should keep you on track.”

You gasp, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He steals a kiss from you and stalked away with his phone on his ear.

Later that day, your phone keeps buzzing against your ass. The first ever text you’ve received from Taeyong. He had a new number. 

[pretty but flat as a board lee taeyong] [4:16 PM] I hope you finished your paper! [4:18 PM] its taeyong btw [4:23 PM] uhm,,, perhaps you want to go for a ride,, like fuck I hate texting dhhdhd [4:23 PM] but I wanna show u around our boxing gym if you would like of course… [4:25 PM] text me back, yeah?

You immediately grin at the message. 

[4:26 PM] alright, as long as you treat me dinner :D [4:27 PM] alsoo… thank you, I said it already but I want to thank you agaaain :) [pretty but flat as a board lee taeyong] [4:27 PM] you got that! :) [4:27 PM] see you!!! <3

You pretty much found yourself ogling at his last message. 

[4:28 PM] anything for you, sweetheart. I love you. 

Those messages from Taeyong got you in a state of deep conflict. You just thought of it as a simple get together and not a date. Right, that must be it, he just wanted to show you around the place where he boxes. That could be it. 

On the other hand, Taeyong knows that it isn’t just something as a plain go-out impromptu. He really mustered his courage to ask you out for a date. And he hasn't thought of a proper place since he’s not permitted to wander around the outskirts of the city not until after his upcoming match. The boxing gym could be the second destination after dinner. 

The shared relationship between the two of you has escalated more than just plain awkwardness. While you are munching out your yakisoba, Taeyong is eating out his salad, watching and lowkey happy that you are sharing a company with him even though the offer is quite a little bit absurd. You are now staring back at him whenever he does, occasionally throwing out flirtatious comebacks after the other. This made something spark out in Taeyong’s chest, is it a sign of your feelings coming back? Or something even bigger than the picture he has been painting? Commitment?

The walk to the boxing gym didn’t take up much of your time. Taeyong pushes the door and lets you enter in first. There are several people inside the gym and they all gave you a friendly greeting. There’s another man that approaches the two of you, probably a few years older than you and is handsome as well in his grey sweats and black shirt. His eyes mold into moon crescents as he greets you with all his pearly teeth showing, “You must be y/n? I’m Taeil, Taeyong’s other coach.”

The people in the gym scrambled out to the connecting unit to give you both privacy. It's just both of you, with the lights casting a warm glow between your bodies, the dumbbells untouched, the ring in the middle waiting for him. He leads you inside the ring as he hoists up the rope upwards for your entrance. The platform is quite slippery but Taeyong immediately guides you forward towards the middle with his hands gripping your hips tightly. You just watch him intently and you can see how he grew a lot more taller, practically hovering over your figure.

He demonstrates a simple punch here and there. Pointing out the parts of the ring but all of his words are muddled, swimming away as your attention is solely focused on his lips and the way his slender body sway with such grace and agility. 

He removes the glove and throws it away. He approaches you, “Are you gonna do something with the way that you are looking at me?”

He can feel it. Tonight is something different. The way both of you are staring right at each other’s soul is a little different. 

He slowly intertwined his fingers with yours then he holds it up to his lips to kiss your fingers gingerly. He’s taking his time to kiss one digit to another. Then, he leans slowly while grazing his lips onto the outer shell of your ear. Your body tingles at the warm breath fanning the right side of your face. “What does that stare mean huh? Y/n?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak with those tantalizing eyes staring at you, full of determination, smoldering with passion and lust. His touch on your hips is burning, shuddering as he caresses it down slowly emitting the rise of your goosebumps. His lips are brushing against your nose peppering small kisses just like old times. He handles you with such care like you are some sort of a delicate masterpiece by Michelangelo. 

You just want him. His lips. His entirety. You want Lee Taeyong. 

He caresses your jaw soothingly before leaning down to press a soft peck on your lips. Then, again and again. Until you encircled your arms around his neck to pull him closer. You feel him smile against your lips after reciprocating your hungry and passionate kisses. After all these years of yearning, you’ve never felt so alive. He’s something akin to fire that never fails to have your insides burn with so much spark and passion. 

He pulls you more, pushing your figure on his. It feels surreal with both your bodies molding into one. His soft touch turns into a passionate tug of war with your blouse. His hands run over those curvatures that are hidden by your top. Oh god, he knows how he missed doing these. 

Taeyong knows that you’re the catastrophe that yields this side of him. He loves you so much. And he believes that you are both made for each other, like planets meant to be aligned together. Your scent that smells like home with a touch of roses and bloom. Your lips that are perfectly made just for him, your tongue that slowly and carefully grazes his lower lip. The kiss that both of you are sharing is too sensual, different, grounded into something just like the very first one you have both shared. 

He nibbles on yours that triggers a soft moan from you. You immediately granted him entrance. The ghost of his touch is still lingering on your jaw, until he settles it down onto your hips. You are sure that he can the loud pounding of your chest, the way the big spark ricochets against your chest with every touch he leaves. 

It’s messy but surreal. Binding with much adoration and deep sense of lust. With his tongue exploring every bit of you. Tangling and connected by feelings. It is so romantic that you don’t want it to end.

He breaks the kiss, leaning against your temple. Ragged breaths resonate around the quiet gym. You take your time to settle your pounding heart and breath. You look at him, all but imbued with pure adoration and affection. His swollen lips whisper your name in awe and he smiles at how he dreamt of it and now it's unfolding before him. 

You just want to be like these. With you tucked under his protective embrace. Listening to his erratic heartbeat. But, you were still afraid. 

He whispers, “God. What will I do without you?”

“But… I’m always here.”

“But I won’t.”

You inhale a sharp intake of breath. “I don’t understand.”

“I might move out abroad for training.”

Those are the things you are always afraid of. Taeyong entering your life, then to leave out as soon you cannot contain yourself anymore, drowning with every piece of him, lost without his presence beside you. 

 This was your nightmares, coming back at square one broken and shattered. And it’s threatening to come back especially now that you are finding yourself falling for him, again.

It’s raining hard. Gloomy and heavy just like the constant barrage of thoughts clouding in your brain that you have overlooked a text message from Taeyong and Doyoung’s sudden appearance at your room.

“I can see a blooming college student, and why is that?” He teases but it wasn’t enough to make your mood lift not for a little bit.

“I don’t see myself as blooming though, why’d you say that?” 

“Don’t lie to me. I can see how lovely and alive you are when you’ve been hanging out with Taeyong.”

“It won’t be long. I should’ve known,” you wipe your face. “God, why am I such an idiot?”

His face immediately concerts to concern, he knows you’re in deep conflict and something wrong is up. “Tell me.”

You told him everything. The internal battle you’ve recently put yourself into Everything that has been bugging in your mind lately. “I’ve let him in my life once, then now, twice and right now I’m unsure of everything. I’m even afraid that I have to go through the past shits I was thrown into because he chooses his career more than… us. And I don’t want to feel that misery again.”

He hums, “Look.” You embrace yourself for an earful of lectures from him. “But, who cares about the past? It's already done but it isn't just you who suffered and undergone extreme shit.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re dumb, y/n.”

“I said what I said, Doyoung. This isn’t love, it could be just the wild force like lust or whatever...”

“No, you’re still swimming around this deep pool of conflict and denial.”

“It's easier to speak about someone, Kim Doyoung. But you don’t know what I am feeling right now, stop invalidating me.”

“I’m not. But I’m speaking as a best friend and I know you love him more than you know, you do.”

You snap, “Stop concluding things!”

“Oh yeah? But if you are unsure of Taeyong, why do you keep on texting with him when you know that you shouldn’t? What about those kisses you both shared when he dropped you off here yesterday? You don’t know but you’ve been drowning with the presence of Taeyong that you’re oblivious to the fact that everyone knows you’re lying. You still love him.”

“I just want to hang out but that necessarily means I do love him.”

Doyoung clenches his jaw and approaches your figure. You’re being too difficult. Your eyes widens at his sudden outbursts but what made you stunned is that he suddenly pulled your face to his, then he planted a soft peck on your nose. 

Doyoung knew this was coming, but he just wanted to help with the thing he knows will work. After all the shenanigans he pull, all of them didn’t work and ended the way he wanted in it be. By doing this, he will know if you are indeed in a midst of conflict or you really do love Taeyong. It’s a giveaway, if you do push him away, it just explains everything. If you do not, then he is wrong for pushing everything into your edge.

Doyoung is tall and thus, he can see the marching figure of Taeyong and how he stopped midway at the sight of both of you. From the perspective of Taeyong, it gives him a picture that both of you are kissing when in fact, Doyoung is just leaning down to match your height.

“What the hell?”

You immediately remove Doyoung’s hands from your face and spin quickly on your heels to meet him. “Taeyong, I can explain…”

Taeyong smiles bitterly, “No. save it.” He lets go of the material he’s been gripping through all this time. 

The sight of Taeyong, he’s beautiful as ever. But looking at his face painting into a mixture of plain reticence and agony surely made you sick to the gut. You hate to see him hurting and when he spun his heel to leave, you chased him off. Afraid of losing him, again. At this moment you have been sure of it, you love him more than you do. 

“Wait—“

He spins his heel but maintains a safe distance from you. “I didn’t know you and Doyoung had a thing, I should’ve known.”

“No! No, please, listen to me—“

His gaze is so dark with pain and anger. “I don’t want to hear anything from you. Imagine, I have been believing all these time, yet, fuck.”

“No, Taeyong…”

He snaps, “Do you really love me y/n? Or you’re just driven?”

That shuts you out. But you know that answer, it's just that fear is holding you from shouting out how much you love him. 

He smirks bitterly, “See? Those could answer everything.”

Heaven knows how much you love Lee Taeyong. How you are afraid of seeing him leave and never return back. 

The next days you are waking up to are the worst as you speak. The way every morning feels so heavy with a constant tirade of thoughts running over your mind like a shadow lurking by. Your mornings pass by bitterly without messages coming from Taeyong or his stupid voice overs that lulls you to sleep. Not even his sweet talks and songs. None of them all. 

It feels like shit to wake up with a heavy chest glooming with unexplainable feelings of confusion and denial. You hated to admit but you are so angry with yourself for being such a pussy. The constant loop of emotions that you feel, above all fear of having everything repeat again, then anger at yourself for hurting Taeyong, then regret because you know you could have done something better. You are well aware that you are just forcing yourself into this pool of anxiety. Afraid of something uncertain, when you shouldn’t be and it was just enough to drive Taeyong away. You could have just told him you loved him, but you were letting yourself be pulled out by your own judgements. Love means sacrificing, but you were such a coward for doing so.

Denial that was the cause of the pain that killed his passionate eyes. You know too well that what you have shared with him isn’t just something as plain lust but it was driven by deep love and passion. Yet, you couldn’t even correct out the stupid lie that Taeyong had to forcibly believe. Because you were so afraid of admitting that you are falling back to him, and you’re afraid that he might not be able to catch you out like he did before all because of boxing. 

But was it worth fearing for if it meant pushing him away? No. You loved him more than you do. Does it make you at ease to just bury down in your darkest pits and watch Taeyong disappear just because you were so afraid of taking up the risk? No. 

In the course of summer’s day and hazy afternoons you have spent with him, shoulder to shoulder, swaying with deep grace and agility, you have seen how smooth your relationship with him changed. Unbeknownst to you, the relationship shared between you has blossomed into something passionate and raw; full of emotion. No puppy love but special and mature. You hate to engage with people but with Taeyong around, there is a line that connects the two of you like two star-crossed lovers destined and made for each other. 

His smile never fails to cast positivity in your life, and hell you know, that you wanted to be a reason for those smiles as well. But how can you do it, when you were the reason why it won’t happen anymore?

You know you are just scared of letting him inside your life and then one moment, he’ll leave. His departure has deeply wounded and scarred you to the point that you don’t want it to happen anymore. This has always been a part of commitment, that obstacles are being thrown towards your way. But the more you think of it, the more selfish and worse you felt. He did support you all the time, especially when you mentioned to him two years ago that you wanted to go abroad for an internship or those times when he is determined to keep you on track despite his body failing because of the strenuous training he’s being shoved under. But when it was his time to go, instead of supporting him all the way, you eventually closed everything around you, even tried so hard to tell it without hurting you. That made you feel like shit. 

You try to diminish everything and try to focus on your classes but you constantly find yourself thinking about those titanium hair and passionate eyes. His kisses and burning touches. You stare at the pile of schoolworks stacked neatly at your table, waiting for your whole undivided attention. But you just couldn’t bring yourself to focus, not with that growing lump of sadness clogging on your throat.

It’s impossible to wave everything off like nothing of this ever happened, that Taeyong was just another episode in your life. But he wasn’t just someone that is a passerby, he’s engraved to your memory, and he’s that memory you wish to remember till death. 

It hurts to see his face into pain.

Lee Taeyong is the man that you’ve ever wished for. He loves without boundaries, without limits, without judgement. He’ll love you with all his might, disregarding all those flaws that you keep. He’s pretty with his soul so bright and pure. He’s like a rose in this dead garden that shines in his very own way. Bright red, full of determination, power and beauty. He’s so kind like the angel Gabriel. He was a dream come true for you, ethereal like a daydream, the love of your life that you pushed away because you were being such a coward.

A throb in your chest escapes when you see the crumpled paper discarded near the door. His neat handwriting comes to your view.

I just read the Notebook by Nicholas Sparks and saw this passage;

“I am nothing special; just a common man with common thoughts, and I’ve led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten. But in one respect I have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who’s ever lived: I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul; and to me, this has always been enough.”

I love you with all my entirety, I know I have fucked up, but I am willing to do everything for you, just to be with you, forever. 

He just loves you and you were doubting everything. 

“Good thing I didn’t throw that paper away.”

You immediately spin around your heel and see Doyoung plopping himself comfortably on the sofa. 

“I’m still mad at what you’ve done.”

“I know, but if it wasn't for that show, you’ll never be as sure as you are now.”

“You’re bullshit.”

“I’m just helping you,” he clears his throat. “Now, tell me more.”

“No, until you tell why you did that stupid thing.”

He sighs. “It’s an eye opener for people in denial like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you heard Taeyong, you immediately pushed me away and chased after him… Why? Because you don’t want to see him get hurt because of a stupid and childish act.”

You didn’t answer.

“Now tell me more.”

You sigh again and close your eyes. Doyoung watches you patiently. “Doyoung, tell me, am I dumb for feeling this way? Afraid that he’ll leave me again because of boxing and selfish because I am just looking out for myself?”

“First of all, you are not dumb, academically could be, but no, you’re not. You see, whenever we feel fear, that just means that we love that person so much we are afraid to lose them. And don’t invalidate everything just because you are looking out for yourself.”

He continues on, “I know that the separation of you two were messed up and rushed because Taeyong had to train more and you cannot decipher the fact that he has to leave. And now that he’s back, you just don’t want to feel the same old misery you had to endure these years. But trust me, he feels the same way as you do. In fact, much worse because he chose boxing over you. But it's part of life and love, sacrifices happen and it makes the bond between the two stronger.”

“What do I do?”

“You see, you keep on returning back to your past, that it might happen again and again. Forget those, it's in the past, what is important is the present and that is what you should focus on. Feelings are really hard to keep up with. We’re humans, vulnerable. But I know that he really loves you.”

“I do, too.”

“Then, you should talk it out to him. Don’t rush things and take lithe steps.”

He approaches your figure and pulls you into an embrace. You feel your eyes burning with tears when he whispers, “If two people are meant to be together, they’ll eventually find their way back, and this is it, y/n.”

“What if he misunderstood?”

“He won’t. Trust me, he is my friend too.”

You feel a sense of comfort even if it's just a fraction of time. His words echoing around your mind, “If two people are meant to be together, they’ll eventually find their way back, and this is it, y/n.”

You find yourself dropping by their boxing gym. Taeil approaches you figure, awkwardly leaning against the door, kinda conflicted if you should set foot in the gym or not. 

“Hey,” he greets. His face is quite pale with the notable dark bags under his eyes, he looks really dishevelled. 

You bow your head, “Hey Taeil, what’s up?”

“Tired.”

“Oh, it's that so?”

“But he’s pretty messed up among all of us.”

He knows.

You can hear the disgruntled grunts and strong punches from the farthest side of the room. 

You let out a sigh, “Why is that?”

“You see, he’s been really expectant of this match but he was notified at the last minute that it was cancelled because his opponent was tested positive for using peds which is illegal,” he trails. “I think it made him upset given the fact that we have done extreme preparations and he was obliged to undergo a mandatory drug test when he hated doing it in the first place.”

You find yourself being stupefied, not knowing what to answer. “I’m sorry--”

You are interrupted midway when you hear constant shouts and punches. 

“It was found out that the contract of sponsorship was a fraud and used as a bait for us to bite on. He was really enraged.” Taeil clears his throat, “Now he’s been grilled by the trainers because there’s a big dip in his usual powerful performance. There was never a problem especially in training but his performance just escalated down and I really don't know how to help him either, I think he's really unmotivated.”

You feel really guilty because you were also the reason for his sudden drop in performance. 

You call out to Taeil and hand him the pink card, “Can you please pass this to him?”

Taeyong stumbles in the locker room after the hellish training, he grips on the metal bars tightly to support his body. He feels like his body is collapsing with his legs wobbling and his arms tired, without the power to hold anything in his command. The bright pink card that is clipped haphazardly on his jacket caught his attention, he stretched out his arm and he elicited a sharp gasp when he felt the sudden jolt of pain rising up to his shoulders. The contents of the card surprised him, your baby picture that’s his favorite and the neat calligraphy of a book passage that had his eyes damp with tears.

“So it’s not gonna be easy. It’s going to be really hard; we’re gonna have to work at this everyday, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever, everyday-- Noah”

I have also read the Notebook and all I could say is I can’t stop thinking about you. Everything could be hard but I am more than willing to dive, to walk into a path full of thorns with you. I was really afraid to see you walk out of that door, and it came to my realization that I’d rather have you go away temporarily, to chase on your dream rather than losing you forever. Chase your dream and I’ll chase mine, and we’ll still find each other’s arms. I will support you always, rose. I love you so much. 

You find yourself in the boxing gym again, awkward as fuck. 

The rambunctious rambles of Taeyong’s teammates piques up his ears yet he doesn't pay attention to it because he knows it’s useless. He quietly wraps the white bandages around his wrist and his fingers. His muscles are still aching with the aftermath of the afternoon grilling yesterday but he needs to practice more despite everything fucking him up. 

Taiel shouts out, “Taeyong!”

He snaps, “What?!”

But the sight of your figure at the door deeply surprised him. You look like you’ve been contemplating for a good minute whether you should enter the gym or just cling out at the door. Ah, he knows. You hated talks and people so much and it shows.

It’s been days since you have last seen him, he’s still beautiful as ever. But you can see the dark shadow that casts underneath his eyes. There were lines here and there that could be caused by stress and fatigue. His jaw is much sharper than before. His eyes were unreadable, deep and smoldering.  

He hoists and climbs out of the ropes and out of the ring to approach you. You can see yourself eyeing his figure intently but you rest your gaze at his strong and unyielding stare down to those pretty lips.

He breathes, “Hey.”

It was just a faint call yet it feels like you’ve been floating around in cloud nine. You fidget against the wall and Taeyong notices. You wanted to tell him more, everything, yet you are confined in your very own space, with fear clogging out your throat. 

You settle with calling his name, your lips quivering, “Taeyong.”

Taeil immediately shushes the other boys that have plains on eavesdropping on the drama unfolding. The marches out towards the connected unit with exasperated groans leaving their lips. Now it’s just you and him again. With everything untouched and quiet. The space around you is basking into that awkward pace just like the first encounter. Your heart ricochets off against your chest that indicates a quiet plea that snaps you out of what you should do. Here goes nothing, you should talk it out to him. 

You try to divert your attention from the erratic beating of your heart to the boy who’s been looking at you with his dark eyes. 

He begins, “How is your summer class?”It took you off guard, “It’s fine.” 

You clear your throat and mumble the words, “I want to talk, please?”

He leans down with his brows furrowed together. “What? I didn’t get what you were trying to say…”

You sigh and yanked his tank top to plant a kiss on those rose colored lips of him. He misses your touch. He relaxes by the feeling of your touch. You were just enough to fill out the hole that has been empty throughout his heart. 

You whisper, “I’m really sorry for being afraid… for holding back… I don’t have something intimate going on with Doyoung I swear, he just leaned in to slap me out of my reverie… With his acts I was able to make sure that you were the only one that I will ever love…  I could never replace you with someone else because I love you so much… you are the only one that I will choose, forever.”

He closes his eyes and leans on your forehead. He was so afraid of losing you either. When he saw Doyoung that day, he really felt a sense of tugging in his heart. Fear that he couldn’t make up for all the things that he’d done. For leaving so soon. For leaving you. He misses you so much that he can’t find the energy to go on without you by his side.

He kisses you with all the power he could muster. With all earnestness. Peppering you with kisses, dusting every part of your face with all his might. He’s intoxicated with just your presence looming inside his systems. He leaves you breathless with every passionate kiss he leaves, leaving a trail of hotness that has been searing up into your body. You could almost feel that spark with just the ghost of his touch. This is what you want, with him  by your side. How content you feel with him and those yearning suddenly disappears.

Taeyong cups your face, holding you with such care as if you’re the most delicate glass. Fragile. He stares at your eyes, searching into yours deeply until he could see how beautiful they really are, that holds the entire galaxy with them, sparkling and deep.

You grab his hands carefully, kissing his bruised hands that are like those flowers that your mother grows. Delphinium, that is casting a glow of pale blue and violet. It must’ve pained him to still train with his hands scarred. 

He calls you out with the same old nickname for you that sends you to bits of fluttery. “Sweetheart... “ His voice is imbued with longing, his voice deep and soothing, contradicting yet lulling. “You don’t have to apologize. I will forgive you every time, because I love you so much.”

“I’m sorry for being like this, still trapped with the past…”

He shushes you with his finger. “Hey, let’s forget everything in the past and focus on what we have here in the present.”

You smile, “Present.”

Taeyong finds himself being lost for words yet he seizes this opportunity to hold you closer to his. He loves you dearly and admires your beauty. Your entirety. He loves you for being you. That is all about simplicity with your skin glowing, so it was your inner beauty that not only lit up your soft features but Taeyong’s eyes as well. When he sees you smile and laugh, he couldn't help but smile along too, even if it was just on the inside. To be in your company was to feel that he too was someone, that you had been warmed in summer rays regardless of the season.

“Stop staring.”

He laughs, “Why not? I miss you.”

“Your coach might scold me for interfering with your training.”

He rolls his eyes, “The match was cancelled, anyways. Let him be mad, I don’t care.”

You grin, “You’re impossible.”

He leans in again for a kiss. It’s not just a peck but one steeped in a passion that ignites. It is the promise of realness, of the primal desire that glows in your chest.

He kisses up and down your neck. You let out little whimpers of anticipation while he works his way back to your tender, smooth lips. 

He breathes out your name, “y/n…” caressing your face gingerly, brushing away those strands of hair away from your eyes, “Did you know I was really happy to see that letter from you?”

“Why?”

“Because you called me rose that you only did when you felt like it.”

You laugh at his confession, “Why?”

“I just felt happy that you finally addressed me by that name.”

You give him a smile while caressing his cheeks soothingly. His expression is a mixture of endearment and loving, with his smile that is so blinding with beauty.

He continues, “I could still remember that very last time you called me that and I thought I will never get those endearments from you. Rose is the name out of all that I can help but to smile whenever I hear someone say it.”

“It’s actually weird to call you that.”

“But it’s fucking unique and I will aways remember you whenever I hear the word rose.”

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you… You’re someone so kind and pure that brings up the beauty even in the smallest things and God… what will I ever do without you in my life?”

“We are always meant to be together even though Doyoung’s plan on bringing our paths together fails.”

You cross your brows, “How did you know that?”

He grins cheekily, “He told me.” That snitch. 

The conclusions are starting to form inside your head like whirlpools. You point out an accusatory finger towards him, your eyes wide, “So you know?”

He smirks and kisses you again. “Yes, but it just feels good to hear those words coming out of you.”

“You drama king!”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Out of seven billion, I will always choose you.”

Those words prompt another fond smile to play on your lips, one so tight it hurts your cheeks. 

You hear a roar, “Lee Taeyong! Back to the ring!”

You could see his manager fuming but when he sees your figure being concealed by Taeyong’s body he immediately scurries back and grunts out incoherent profanities. 

You snatch his top to lean for a peck then pushing him away, “Go, before you get grilled for--”

“For what? Being sexy?”

“You have an non-existent ass, Taeyong.”

He just smiles at your comeback. And he could just feel the air knocking out of his fucking chest. God, what is life if it wasn’t you with his side like this? He’s a lovefool, only for you.

He begins, “You know I hated books but…” his eyes are now soft and deep, earthy brown - the color of the earth after torrential rains. A smile tugging on the ends of his lips, “You are, and always have been, my dream.” 

You recognize those quotes from Nicholas Sparks. 

You smile too, “You are and will ever be the love of my life, Taeyong.”

SMUT (SKIP IF UNCOMFORTABLE)

You can still remember the first time that you felt extreme happiness, that is when you have been given the plush toy you have been dreaming off by your dad. That was memorable, then the second one that gave you light was Taeyong. He brings the extreme feeling of euphoria just by the ghosts of his lips. From the very start, you wanted to drown yourself with the boy who’s laced with elegance and sweetness that is Lee Taeyong. 

You didn’t know how Taeyong was able to spare himself out of his training sessions and his fuming coach. But what is important is that after he runs towards your direction, carelessly yanking out his bag, he reconnected his lips to yours, peppering your whole face down to marking your neck as his. You both don’t stop feeling each other until you are both forced out by Taeil. 

Taeyong’s vein is filled with adrenaline and the wild drive of lust. He carelessly drives down his apartment, skipping three traffic lights, at this moment he couldn’t bring himself to care about traffic rules, he wanted you the soon, the better. The both of you stumbles down the hallway, bodies waltzing while trying to fit in the door of his unit. 

His fingers were grazing your scalp slightly tugging on your locks to provide him more access to deepen the kiss. His other hand is roaming around you, exploring every bit of your curvature that you always hide. He grips on your hips hard then slammed you on the nearest wall he could find. Taeyong pushes his pelvis onto you, deeper while torturing you by biting down on your lower lip. You let out a quiet moan that urges him to do more, grinding against your pants that sends a surge of swirling sparks in your belly and wetness that pools between your thighs.

You’re his drug that drives him into madness. 

He couldn't contain himself any further as excitement pools inside his system, his eyes burning with desire with the sight of you caged between his arms. He gives you a look while he touches the hem of your shirt, silently asking for your approval. You nodded and it was enough for him to shake while trying to work out and remove you from the garment that covers your beauty. He inwardly let out a low groan upon the sight of your breast cupped perfectly by the lacy bra. 

Your faces immediately flush at his intense gaze, but he immediately leans in to plant a quick peck on your lips, smiling throughout. “You are perfect. God.”

He traces with his lithe fingers starting from your hands upward to your shoulders. You can almost see how he occasionally steals a glance at you with his hooded eyes. His gaze is so heavy and hungry as if you’re a pool of crystal water and he’s a man with an exorbitant thirst, that he cannot longer wait to devour you with all his might.  He proves his ardent hunger by cupping your cheeks and attacking your now swollen lips, then tilting your head slightly on the left to press his lips onto the delicate skin of your neck, his teeths grazing and biting down, leaving you angry red marks. He wasn’t feeling enough, he titles your head more, providing him more access to the sweet spot that is on the arch of your collarbones, sucking and marking until you are desperately crying for more. 

You let out an airy laugh, “Is this what you are planning along all this time?”

He answers you with a breathy answer, “Fuck, yes.” He towers over your figure while grinding more onto you, the friction making him bite down his moans and hard with every fraction of time passing by. “You’re the only one I plan on doing this with.”

 He pulls away and finally assists you while undressing. To him, you are the most perfect, with your skin glistening with sensual sweat. Taeyong’s eyes were drawn down to the red marks that caressed its way down to your neck, reaching to just below your collarbones. Taeyong always told himself that goddesses were real and he was sure that you’re one of them. You’re a masterpiece that he will always hold with such delicateness.

He pushes your figure down onto his silk sheets. You can feel the cold contact against your flushed skin while Taeyong hovers onto your figure attacking every part of you that his lips could. He sucks onto your neck until those marks turn with a deep chase of purple and blue. You buck your hips against him, firmly to feel him, until you could squeeze out a reaction from him.

Taeyong groans slowly which pushes you more to roll your hips against him. The instinctive reaction of Taeyong was to bite down on your neck a little more harder which earns a sharp gasp from you. There is a rising flame bubbling inside of your abdomen. Two amorous lovers binded by love and lust. He gives out a quick yet quiet apology while returning into his business on marking every spot he sees no shade of lilac or blue. You try to grind onto him shamelessly, again, teasing to test out his patience, yet he already has his hands holding you down to place with his nails digging deep into your hips. You could almost feel his raging boner resting against the flesh of your inner thighs, throbbing. 

Swatting away his grip, you immediately sit up to undress him up. Your hands run along his skin, clever, skilled, determined as you stripped off the tank top that clings onto his wrists. The flash of passion, the fury of need that darkens your eyes with a sense of decadent power as the man you really love is sitting before you, almost as naked as you. 

In mindless, liberated pleasure, you shove out his gym shorts. 

Taeyong’s eyes glimmered in the weak light of his room, as he forced the gym shorts out of him and flung it aside. “You’re driving me insane.”

“I could say that too.”

His mouth begins feasting onto your flesh again, his greedy hands racing over your quivering body in ruthless exploration that got you breathless. Heat pumps throughout your veins; feeling soft and warm, melting into Taeyong’s touch, like one's body. 

You let out a gasp when you feel Taeyong’s palm cupping your breasts. His other sinful fingers move against your surging wet heat, relentlessly driving you up to insanity, the need to release is clawing viciously inside your body. Your pussy throbbing with his fingers encircling with your clit in a torturous manner. 

Taeyong breathes, “Look at me,” when he sees your eyes fluttering shut. “It’s just you and me. Just us, like always.”

“Always.” The shadows dance around the both of you. Shifting while both of your fingers stroked. The sensation builds after the other, your body trembles, shuddering layers, then it halts when he suddenly withdraws himself letting you on the edge of frustration and want. 

“Fuck, Taeyong!”

“God, I can eat you out, alive.”

You breathe, “I could… let you.”

With the expert flick of his hands, he had your pants tugged down along with your panties with a low grunt. Your eyes both lock in a brief second, all smoldering and swimming with intense lust. He clicks his tongue while playfully flicking off your bra.

His hands, as you could note, are kinda calloused, rubbing at your inner thighs and then spreads them widely while exploring a bit of your body. The power of his caress is influenced by boxing that is tantalizing and arousing, his fingertips pressing onto the delicate part of your skin, wandering underneath to give you behind a gentle yet strong cup.

He leans in again to leave out open mouthed kisses on your bare chest. The air around thickens, your breath snagged in your lungs. Your back arches as he takes your breast in his mouth, sucking, teeth scraping erotically over your aching nipple. Then, trailing down to your inner thighs to leave small kisses here and there, then he’ll suck. You writhe against the small exquisite pain, sobbing his name, the wet pulse between your legs is pounding with intense need. 

Taeyong dips his head in between your legs, licking the hot, slick, and thick liquid that is dripping from your folds. You immediately let out a moan. He holds you in place, while he relishes on your juices while you suffer at his doings. The vibration whenever he let out a satisfied groan leaves out a tingling sensation to your clit. His tongue finally reaches out to encircle you wanting clit. Waves of ecstasy washes over you, crying out loud at the feeling of sharp sensation of pleasure flowing right at your veins. You try to reach out to anything your hands could get, grip on. You settle for his titanium hair. 

“You’re so sweet.”

Whenever he speaks it grazes slightly on the nubs of your walls, which made you arch your back in pleasure. He continues on licking your juices, until he slides a digit in taking you completely by surprise. With his long, slender fingers inside you, the feeling is exceptional, delirious. 

He slides his finger in, your folds welcoming him as it grazes and envelops every time he slides another finger. His thumb continues on playing with your clit which his fingers fucks you, knuckle deep without mercy. You immediately cry out in pleasure. 

He pumps in a fast pace that has your legs trembling. Your sex is throbbing at his merciless pounding while reaching out to poke out your sweet spots, clenching around his fingers and soaking with your juices. You can feel yourself coming again, as he quicken his pace, you bite down on your lips to ride out the pleasure you are feeling. His thumb busy with your clit and his fingers pumping in and out of you. 

“I’m coming. F-fuck, Taeyong. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“You like that huh?”

“God, y-yes.”

You can feel the hot liquid dripping between your legs. God, your core is still throbbing at the aftermath of his finger fucking, and you still want more. 

“Fuck me Taeyong. F-fuck me hard.”

He immediately scrambles to his feet upon your request. Removing his boxers, you could see his dick, with a searing red tip oozing with precum. You are really aroused at the sight of him wrapping his hands around his dick, giving it quick strokes. 

“Open for me, sweetheart.”

You did as he mounted you, crushing his mouth into yours as he thrust his dick into you. A sob of pure and overwhelming pleasure eases up your throat. Your walls stretch with him inside. He eases himself, pushing his dick to the extent of your hot walls. Arching, you brought him deeper inside. Your hips move in desperate, greedy time, urging him on. 

In that fleeting moment before you both plunged into the roaring darkness, you understood that there will be no room for another man in your mind, in your soul, in your heart. It will always be him, Lee Taeyong. 

Taeyong reaches out to stroke a palm down your exquisite curves and hollows that drives him mad all night and day while he reaches his point. You take him well, with him cumming inside you. Both of your breathing are ragged. The weak light illuminating from Taeyong’s lampshade cast your silhouettes. When he leans to press a quick kiss on your lips, two grey shadows molded into one. 

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

hello, this eaten all the left energy in my body so i hope you guys love this one! :D

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct-writers #neohours #lee taeyong #lee taeyong imagines #nct127 #nct #nct u #nct fluff #nct smut #nct angst #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 one shot #boxer!au #boxer!taeyong #nct taeyong imagine

[itsactuallycorrine]

tagged by @bgonemydear--thanks, Brit! 

How many works do you have on AO3?

37!

What’s your total AO3 word count?

266,653

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

10 (grouping Star Trek, Star Trek: TOS, and Star Trek: TOS movies into 1). From most works to least:

The 100

Community

The Mindy Project

Agents of SHIELD

From Dusk till Dawn: the series

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

Star Trek: The Original Series

Veep

Will & Grace

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone (or, Clarke is a Punk Rocker) (t100, Bellarke)

somehow the beauty will find you (t100, Bellarke)

counting down the hours (t100, Bellarke)

the truth was built to bend (t100, Bellarke)

hope's a burden (or it sets you free) (t100, Bellarke)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I didn’t used to, but as I start writing for smaller or more inactive fandoms, I do like to reply. 

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

The first 2 stories of my series the stars came falling on our heads (t100, Bellarke) both end on a very angsty note. I think part one more than part two, but just by a bit. (They also didn’t age. great since they were written pre-s3)

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t write true crossovers, but in terms of fusion my Crazy Ex-Girlfriend-inspired Community fic The Situation's a Lot More Nuanced Than That was very fun to write (even if it did take me literal years to finish & post chapter 3.)

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not out & out hate, but very recently I got a comment along the lines of “This was good but I would’ve done it differently,” and it was the first time I ever received any comment of that kind on a fic in over a decade of writing & posting.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Very, very rarely--I only have 1 on AO3 rated E. I’m much more comfortable with either a fade to black or a short, not-too-explicit sex scene

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes! I’ve had someone post a fic of mine on Wattpad as their own (although I think that was from FFN, not AO3) and a year or two ago, someone stole one of my t100 fics, changed the names, and reposted it as a Game of Thrones fic. 

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I’ve had someone start translating one of my fics, but I think they only got two chapters in before they gave up. I don’t even remember which one it was, but it was definitely one of my t100 fics.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

My favorite to write is Jeff/Annie from Community--I always go through periods where I don’t think about them at all, but if I rewatch the show or read something, I always fall back into writing them. (There’s more than one reason my otp tag for them is “something always brings me back to you”.) 

My favorite to read depends on my mood. I’m still in my Garashir (DS9) period right now--which is also a lot of fun to write. I’ve got a few WIPs simmering for them still.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I have so many WIPs that I just open up in google docs, read, and then get angry that they haven’t been finished. 

I have 2 I don’t think I ever will get to, no matter how badly I want them, both for MacDennis (IASIP):

does it slip away slow (so you never even notice it’s happening): (title from Merrily We Roll Along) angsty-ish fic starting out in season 14, going back through time, and ending when they meet in high school. I have it completely outlined but every time I go to write it, my brain refuses to cooperate.

Untitled fic where Mac & Dennis argue and Dennis says something along the lines of wishing he’d never met Mac, and then he gets to see what it would be like and how his not being friends with Mac would change things.

What are your writing strengths?

I would hope characterization. That’s definitely where I personally feel strongest, and I put a lot of thought into the characters’ mindsets and personalities. My second would be dialogue.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Exposition! As much as I hate reading dialogue-only, it’s everything in between that I have a hard time with. 

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

It would have to be very necessary and I’d have to have it vetted at least once by a native speaker of that language, for sure. I avoid it where I can.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

....... iCarly. LISTEN...! (I have no excuse; I was 25 at the time.)

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

I Thought I Could Fly Alone (I Can't Even Get Off the Ground) (gen Frankie-centric fic, Community) by a very wide margin. I love Frankie and I love her dynamic with every member of the study group, and this is one that came to me so effortlessly and turned out so well.

I’ll no-pressure tag @crazyassmurdererwall @bellakitse @peglegsjones @bufordtannen @celerylapel @shadesalvarez and anyone else who wants to do it

#fic meme

[drummergirl231-2]

Happy Autism Awareness/Acceptance Day 2020!

To me, true awareness and acceptance go hand-in-hand. I still don’t mind the word “awareness,” since most people, even people who think they’re spreading Autism awareness, aren’t totally aware of what it is or what it’s like. But I also love calling it Autism Acceptance Day, because that’s what we need more than anything. 

To spread some awareness, I’d like to address some misconceptions about Autism and share some other thoughts I wish people knew/understood.

1. Autists/Aspies do not lack empathy. 

I found this thing and it explains it super well so I’ll just leave it here:

Imagine a scenario where you say something totally innocent and it triggers the person you’re talking to. They start flying off the handle at you and you don’t know why. But because they’re angry, you are, too. But since you don’t know why they’re angry, you don’t know why you’re angry, either. It’s crazy overwhelming and confusing. And you want to fix whatever you did because you don’t want this other person to be angry or hurt, but you don’t know how, because their all-consuming rage makes it really hard to think and try to put yourself in their shoes. Also, you’re scared on top of it all.

That’s what having high affective and compassionate empathy and low cognitive empathy is like. It’s not that we don’t care. It’s that we care too much, and all the super specific nuances of socializing are things we have to learn one at a time, through either our mistakes or others’ mistakes. These things don’t come naturally to us, but it’s not like we can’t learn. If I were to compare math to socializing, it’s like you all have calculators or other doohickeys to do all the math for you and we just have paper and a pencil... and no eraser. 

2. Autism is not a mental illness to be “cured.”

Now don’t get me wrong, I am ALL FOR people finding ways to help us be able to deal with the world better, whether that’s a better diet, items to block out sensory stimuli or items that stimulate, or counselling that can help us navigate social situations and talk through anxiety and/or depression. But those things don’t “cure,” us because Autism isn’t a disease or something wrong with us. Autism gives us different challenges, sure, but neutotypicals have their own challenges. 

The symptoms typically associated with “low-functioning,” Autism don’t necessarily have to be a part of Autism. Many non-verbal kids grow up to be verbal. That doesn’t mean they stopped being autistic. There was a celebrity mom years ago who claimed to “cure” her son’s Autism with a gluten-free dairy-free diet. He’d been so trapped in his head, he couldn’t engage with the world around him. She altered his diet and one day he laughed at Spongebob, and that was a turning point. He became able to interact with people and react to things on TV. It was a huge breakthrough. But he was still autistic. If you were to have plopped me down on a rug as a toddler next to a toddler like this celebrity’s son before his altered diet, you wouldn’t think I was autistic at all by comparison. But I was, and I am.

Autism is a different neurological blueprint, and yes, brain-healthy diets and detoxes can do wonders for us because it seems like our brain type does make us more susceptible to negative effects from neurotoxins. But if you think someone has lost their Autism just because “the bad parts,” went away... no. That’s not how it works.

3. Not everyone is “a little autistic.” 

When I was newly diagnosed and trying to process it, someone told me something along the lines of, there there, we’re all a little autistic. But that’s not true. There are a lot of traits associated with this brain type, and yes, a neurotypical person can have a few of them. That doesn’t make them a little autistic. To be considered autistic at all, you’d have to have a large number of quirks plus social delays (not associated with excessive technology use), odd or repetitive behaviors, unusual and intense interests, communication struggles, and unusual sensory processing. Suppose you’re white. If you are white, this should be easy to imagine. Say an African American just told you about some of the challenges they’ve faced, whether it’s race-based bullying in school or racial profiling later on. Would it be appropriate to say, “There there, we’re all a little black?” NO. One, it’s false. Two, while all people struggle with stuff because to be human is to struggle sometimes, the struggles of different groups of people are totally different, and you can’t say you know exactly what it’s like or pretend everyone’s the same. We all have equal dignity and worth, but beyond that, everyone’s different. Don’t pretend differences don’t exist. Just value them.

4. Autism doesn’t have a “look.”

When I tell people I’m autistic, this is usually what I hear: “Wow! I wouldn’t have guessed! You don’t look autistic.”  ...What does that even mean??? Is it supposed to be a compliment? Because if it’s a compliment I “don’t look autistic,” then that’s kind of an insult to other autistic people. Or do they mean it like, “I don’t believe you’re really autistic because I have a preconceived idea of what an autistic person looks like and you don’t fit the bill so I’m not going to give you grace if you act weird?” I don’t know. Y’all say weird things too, sometimes, ya know? But Autism doesn’t have a look. There is a sort of distant intensity in our gaze sometimes... and I can legit see it when Jim Parsons plays Sheldon Cooper, but when I see an interview with him as himself, it’s gone. It’s not a fixed feature of our faces, and a talented NT could totally put it on.

5. Autism presents itself differently in boys and girls.

You know how not a lot of people know the symptoms of heart attacks in women because mainly people only talk about what a heart attack is like for men? It’s kinda like that with Autism, too. Typically when you hear about Autism, you’re hearing about the signs and symptoms in boys. Even most pediatricians only know to look for the way it presents in boys, which is how so many girls don’t get a diagnosis until later in life, if ever.  One difference is that, for whatever reason, girls tend to be better at nonverbal communication and taking hints. We’re mimics. Chameleons. We take on the mannerisms of those around us and who we see on TV as we force ourselves to adapt. Verbal boys might speak at unusual volumes or with an unusual voice, rhythm, or cadence, but verbal girls learn to mimic the speech patterns of others. Our special interests/obsessions aren’t typically seen as strange given our age and sex. For example, a six-year-old autistic boy might be fascinated by WWII. I was interested in fetal development. People thought, “What’s so weird about that? She’s a little girl who loves babies.” We often play with Barbies or other dolls long after our peers have stopped. It helps autistic girls process social situations. When I was shamed out of liking Barbies, I started writing stories in notebooks or in my head. Autistic boys usually struggle with social communication from an early age, but autistic girls usually don’t have any major communication struggles until adolescence, when relationships, platonic or romantic, get way more complicated.  Since little autistic girls can mimic their neurotypical peers, and since some doctors only know how to look for Autism in boys, we tend to fly under the radar, causing that huge gender gap in diagnoses.

6. Mental illness is common with Autism, but NOT part of it.

I read an article by an autist in the UK who struggles to get help for his anxiety or depression because therapists have brushed him off, saying “Well, that’s just part of being Autistic, so it can’t be helped.” NO! Just like neurotypicals can be mentally healthy or unhealthy, Autistic people can be mentally healthy or unhealthy. Just because something is common for us doesn’t mean it’s how it’s supposed to be, or that it’ll always be that way, or that it’s part of who we are and we need to embrace it. People with mental illnesses should be embraced (literally or figuratively, depending on what they’re comfortable with). Mental illnesses should not be embraced. Ever. Because autistic kids and adults often face abuse, bullying, discrimination, and are ostracized, anxiety (especially social anxiety) and depression are common for us. In more serious cases, especially in autistic teens and young adults, dissociative disorders can develop. What’s worse, it doesn’t take much looking to find the dark corners of the internet where people, autistic or not, are encouraged to embrace their developing dissociative thoughts and feelings. I once saw an interview with someone who found healing from a dissociative disorder, and she gets emails every day from others with the same disorder she had who regret some of the things they were talked into doing while living with the condition and  who want to find the healing she did. She said many of them are autistic and under the age of twenty-five. Autistic people with mental illnesses shouldn’t be talked into believing their mental illnesses are a part of them, or not mental illnesses at all, or something to celebrate and cling to. I reject the notion we should have to settle for being ill in any way. We deserve to be as healthy and whole as anyone else, and it makes me sick there are so many internet predators preying on us in this way, and that there are therapists who think Autism and mental illness has to be a packaged deal.

7. If LGBT people were treated the way autistic people are by the media, it’d lead to outrage. But it seems like no one is outraged on our behalf.

We’ve seen the news stories, haven’t we? A couple invites the news over to their house, upsetting their autistic child who then has a meltdown, the meltdown is filmed and aired, and the parents are just like, “This is what our life is like because of Autism. And it sucks. Pity us.”

There was one video I saw... I’m just so enraged by it, even after two years. A mother was praised for her open honesty as she vilified her autistic son and complained about how he ruined her life and how hard it is to go out and have people stare. I’m sorry, hard for WHO??? I don’t even want to go into the details. I know only sharing this much doesn’t make it sound like that bad of a video, it’s just... ugh. Guys. It’d be a whole separate post. I can’t deal with it right now. 

If parents went on the news after their kid came out to them as gay, and wept and begged for pity and said some of the things this woman said of her autistic son (wondering what she did wrong that made her deserve this or that led to this or saying she doesn’t believe in God but finds herself praying anyway that God’ll “fix him”), America would call them the worst parents ever. But parents of autistic kids who do this are praised for their openness and vulnerability as they publicly shame their child.

Another time, after a mass shooting carried out by a teenage boy, the news reported that he was autistic and that might have contributed to the attack (there they go, combining mental illness with Autism as one and the same again).

If a pedophile were arrested, and they said on the news, “And we just got word that he’s gay, so that may be why,” there’d be a riot. But the news can pin autists as mass murderers and no one bats an eye!

All of May last year working at a clothing store, I watched as various departments filled up with pride t-shirts to get ready for June, and I couldn’t help but think,

Where were the Autism acceptance t-shirts in March to get ready for April?

I probably shouldn’t be so surprised with the media painting us as life-ruiners and life-enders. 

I know it’s a vile and disgusting thing for me to be jealous of LGBT people in this way, especially since they have their own struggles, too. I just wish society had our backs and celebrated us instead of wanting us “fixed,” for their own convenience, ya know?

8. Almost all of us hate Autism Speaks, and those who don’t are probably just new. XD

I used to be all “Light it up blue!” as well (even though that seemed weird to me, given blue lights might be overwhelming to some people on the spectrum). But then I read something on their site that made me feel really betrayed, and down the line, I learned most autistic people hate them... some because they saw them say the opposite of what I saw they said. Basically we all have different opinions but Autism Speaks spouts whatever information their donors want them to (sellouts), and that donated money doesn’t go towards helping us, but toward more fundraising or research on how to prevent people with our brain type. I guess they’re not fond of the artistic and scientific advancements we bring to the table. They should change those puzzle pieces from blue or multi-colored to white with black specks because they want a world that’s vanilla. 

9. Some of us still like the puzzle pieces, even if we hate Autism Speaks.

I’ve talked about this in a fanfic, but I’d love it if we could redeem the puzzle pieces, because they’re still a good analogy if you assign a different meaning. Autists and NTs are puzzling to each other, no sense denying that, but the more time we spend together, the more we start to understand each other. Also, Autism does have a lot of pieces, and figuring out I was autistic was like solving the puzzle of my life. The missing pieces came together and things became clearer and made more sense. Also also, some autistic people are really good at puzzles. And then there are autists like me who aren’t necessarily good at puzzles, but get totally absorbed in working on them anyway (my parents have been doing some puzzles during the quarantine lol they’re traps! TRAPS I SAY!!!).

Nevertheless, I understand why other autistis don’t like the puzzle pieces and prefer the rainbow infinity symbol, and I quite like it, too. It’s very pretty, and the way the colors fade together is a nice symbol of how it’s a spectrum.

It’s a sign of the infinite possibilities in our lives when we’re empowered, because we can do and have done good and great things in the world.

#autism acceptance day #autism awareness day #autism #asperger's syndrome #self-advocacy #I'm like hecka impressed if you read all this

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 69: Nice

Chapters: 69/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: 

Relationships: Loki x Reader 

Characters: Loki (Marvel), Bucky (Marvel)

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Loki Has A Worse Time,

Summary:  You find yourself in an explosive situation. Loki figures some things out, and so do you.

You floated through nothing, bathed in sparkling blue light. Loki held your hand, pulled along behind you, staring into the azure cascade with gentle joy.

Forever forever forever

Til death do you part

The words pulsed inside you, so deep down that it was more like a feeling than a voice. What did it mean?

You knew you were going to be linked to Loki for the rest of your life. If he hadn't figured out how to sever that connection yet, he never would. But this beautiful light seemed to promise more.  More than your life. Adventure. Knowledge beyond your world. Power. Romance. The high and exciting life you had always dreamed of. Or safety. Love. Comfort. The stable and idyllic life that you really wanted. You could have it all, if you would just... Learn me learn me learn me “I'm trying.” You were. You had been. You were grasping your power. You were discovering your romance. Your love and comfort. You were gaining that knowledge, you had tasted adventure, and weren't sure that it was to your liking. Still seeking that safety and stability though. Perhaps it was holding your hand right now, gazing serenely into the light. Perhaps it was the light itself, bathing both of you in such glory. You stretched you arm out toward it. Closer. Closer. If you could just grasp it, you would have everything you ever wanted. If you could just understand it. If you could just learn it. But Loki was tugging your other hand now, slowing your progress. You looked back at him in confusion. His face, no longer suffused with contentment, now showed concern. He wanted you to stop. But you were so close now! So close...it was just right there! If you just...reached...a little further... He was pulling hard, like he did when he was trying to keep you out of the dream-void, but the void was no longer there. Now it was just the light. Your fingers just barely brushed its center. The light resolved itself into a brilliant sapphire blue crystal, rough but pure. It screamed for you, and Loki screamed for you, and with a final push, you closed your hand around the gem.

Knowledge flooded you. Light and power flooded you, more than you could ever hold. Your physical body disintegrated into light, and like a tiny Bifrost, you scattered across the universe.

                                                                               *****

You awoke screaming, flailing out of your bed, tearing at your blankets. Light filled your eyes, blinded you. You could feel runes marching up and down your body in blazing trails, like fire ants. It was too much!

Your brain pounded at your skull, too big to fit. The mark on your hand seared down to the bone. Too much!

Your whole body contorted with the overload of energy. Your stomach twisted and lurched.

Too much, too much, too much!

You shrieked again, and a pulse of magical energy burst from you. Everything in your room lifted, began flying around. Things crashed into the walls, through the walls, through the window. The door ripped from its hinges.

You heard Loki shout, heard Andsvarr's distressed cry, and more crashing, in the hallway and beyond. How far would it carry?

Loki appeared in your ruined doorway, just as your sight faded back in. His body coruscated with runes, both eyes blacked out, save for the bright glowing blue of his irises. Did you look like that right now?

But with the power released, your body relaxed, your stomach calmed. Finally, you collapsed, shivering, and Loki scooped you up into his scintillating arms, the runes already fading.

“I will go fetch a healer!” Andsvarr exclaimed, and rushed off down the hall. Loki carried you through the little library, past skewed shelves and fallen books, to his room, in which a dresser now rested on its side, a mirror toppled.

He lay you down on his bed, making sure to give you the pillow you preferred to use. He up-righted a chair and sat next to the bed, clasping your hand in his.

“Do you know what happened?” He asked. “Are you hurt?”

“I don't think so.” You said weakly. “Not injured at least. It hurt, but not now.”

“Do you remember anything?”

“Not really. A dream. Light. Flying. Trying to reach something and then...too much light, too much energy. Do you remember?”

“No.” He said quickly. “Don't worry about it right now. Just rest.”

Bjarkhild arrived, looking as if she had been hastily roused, and gave you a quick look over.

“There doesn't seem to be any damage to your body, though your mark looks freshly burned. I want you to see me tomorrow, so I might see it more clearly. You are suffering magic fatigue, but I think his Highness might be able to do something about that. Gently.” She said, giving Loki a stern glare. “She is in no shape for more...energetic activities.”

Loki looked away sharply. It might have just been the firelight, but his face looked red.

“I will care for her according to her needs.” He said with as much dignity as he could muster.

After Bjarkhild left, Loki crawled into bed with you, snuggling close with one arm around you protectively.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“I will be. The fatigue always feels better when you're close.” You wished you had a better handle on it though.

“Yes. But...are you okay?” He asked again. You could see the worry not quite hidden behind his eyes.

“No. No, I really don't think I am. I don't feel right. I feel like I should be screaming right now, or something. Why aren't I screaming?”

“Because I am here to protect you.” Loki declared. “I'm here. I'm here forever.”

Forever forever forever

Til death do you part.

What did it mean? Half-remembered words and blue light.

“Are you upset about the giant too?” Loki asked.

“Of course I am! He was right there! And he tried to kill me! And then you killed him! Right in front of me!”

“Well, technically Thor killed him.” Loki began.

“I should feel worse than this. I could have tried talking to him, but I just jumped up on a table with my knife. What did I think he was gonna do? I should have done something else. I should be freaking out, but I'm not.”

“I wouldn't be so sure of that.” Loki said. “It seems to me that you are, but you are being less up front about it. Like one of your computers. A 'freak out' program running in the background, sucking up all of your processing power.”

“Loki, this isn't...you know, I want to say that this isn't a joke, but that's a good analogy? I'm so worried, I can't think. I'm scared it's going to happen again. That lady in the ice. We're going to dig her out, and then what? You have to know she's gonna hate us. Last she knew, we were the enemy. And what if that was her guy? What if he was the kids dad?”

“I have it on very good authority that he was not.” Loki assured you. “He left behind some information that let us know, at least vaguely, who they are. The child is, presumably from a noble family, and the woman, her caretaker. The woman might be a threat; she is still ten feet tall, after all. However, and I hate to put this so callously, she will soon see that she has little choice but to cooperate. There's not really anywhere else for her to go. As for the girl...no one will harm her. She's not a warrior, she's just an innocent child.”

“Yeah, but will everyone else see it that way...Loki?” His face had suddenly gone crimson, lips pressed tightly together. “What's wrong?”

“There is this curse.” He muttered. “It says that when you get to a certain age, you will find yourself opening your mouth, and your father will come out.”

“Yeah, we have that saying too. Why?”

“No reason.”

Right.

“But you understand, right? Why I feel like this about...feeling like this? I don't want this to become normal. I don't want to get used to this kind of thing.”

“Fear not.” Loki said soothingly. “There will be no more killing of Frost Giants, and hopefully no more Asgardian deaths while you live.” He pressed a kiss to your temple.

“But you understand?”

“I understand. Now rest.”

You were exhausted. You let yourself drift off to sleep, feeling just a tiny bit better about things. As long as he understood, it would be all right. As long as he understood.

                                                                         *****

“I just don't understand!” Loki complained into his phone. He sat, naked and dripping in front of the bathroom mirror, on a call with Barnes, the only human he believed to be capable of helping him comprehend the bizarre nuances of human cultures and relations. “She has seen death before. She has been in battle. She's defended herself. We're teaching her how to fight. But there is this resistance in her. She doesn't want to get better. She doesn't want to overcome this fear. It is part of my duties to help her face war with a still and steely heart, if need be. But she wants to remain soft.”

“Well yeah, that makes sense.” Barnes said from his end of the line. “Nobody likes war.”

“A single glance at your species' history shows that to be a lie.”

“Yeah, okay, we do fight a lot. But nobody actually wants to go to war. Well, except the people who make money off it, but they aren't the ones actually going into battle. No one else likes it. Why do you think we invented so many machines for it?”

“So you do it all the time, but you hate it?” Loki tried to reason out. “Then why do it so much?”

“Because a lot of us are greedy SOB's who don't give a shit about anyone else, and those are the kinds of people who usually grab up leadership positions. But for someone like her, peace is the ideal. For her, getting used to violence means she can more easily perpetuate it, and she wouldn't want that.”

“She wouldn't want to slay her enemies swiftly and cleanly, so that she can go back to peacetimes?”

“No, she wouldn't see it that way. To her, the act of killing would end peace forever, because that act would just stay with her forever.”

Loki paused for a moment, rolling this over in his head. The contradictory nature of humans. You'd punched him before; when you were afraid. Had you felt guilty when you had done that? Was it normal behavior for you, or a product of everything you had been through?

“Look, I know it doesn't make sense. But we're different than you guys. Our brains, I mean. We're really not supposed to be doing this. It messes us up pretty bad. And you can't forget that she's seen some pretty terrible things, too. I mean, you and I were soldiers. Well, sorta. Weren't you?”

“In a way.” Loki said. “Asgard was in a state of relative peace through most of my life, but we did muster to the defense of our protectorates fairly regularly. As soon as I was old enough, I was sent with our warriors to direct them, and fight alongside them. I wasn't rank and file, but I've led armies, and I've been in battles.”

“Yeah, well she hasn't. Your experiences and hers are extremely different. This isn't something she was brought up to, so it's not surprising that it repulses her.”

“So...I should be preserving her pacifist nature.” Loki said slowly. “Rather than encouraging her to move past it?”

“Maybe. Maybe that's what she wants.”

“But I want to keep her safe. She's already been exposed to so much danger. And this is a time of upheaval for us; there will only be more.”

“And I'm not saying to make her stop learning how to defend herself, I'm just saying to be sympathetic. She's culturally different than you. She's going to react differently to things than you do, and this is a big difference between you. Don't just brush it off.”

“Right.” Peace was the ideal, violence was an abhorrent last resort, and compassion was a precious treasure. Even if you struggled with them sometimes, these were important facets of your being.

“Got that straightened out, your Highness? Can I go back to bed now?”

“Er, yes. Thank you for this.”

After they had said their goodbyes, Loki remained in front of the mirror. There were some other things to think about. He held out his hand, the Space Stone, wrapped in its icy containment, sat in his palm. Blue spread down his arm, over his body. This was the only use of his native Jotun magic that he currently employed, and it 'revealed' him whenever he held the frozen sphere for more than a moment.

“Just what are you up to?” Loki mused.

Why should the Stone be appearing in your dreams? Was it the source of the blue light that was so often featured in them? Did that mean it had been there all along? Why?

The possibility shed a new and disturbing light on some of the events of those dreams. How you sometimes seemed to be listening-even responding to-a voice he could not hear. How you sometimes brought physical objects out of those dreams of far away places. The dust and dried leaf from Titan, the snow from Jotunheim. As if you had in some way actually been there. Maybe you had. But how? And again, why?

And most worrisome, was it actually possible for you to free the stone from its containment, through dreams, and bring it back out into the world, out of his possession? Was that what it had been trying to do?

But you couldn't handle it. In the dream, you had shattered into beams of light. He hadn't wanted to tell you.

Did it want freedom? The stone was not...often... malignant. It seemed to enjoy being used. It liked to make things, to empower things. Was it bored?

Perhaps he ought to take it to work on the Bifrost a bit more often.

He heard a choked off gasp from the bath chamber door, turned just in time to see you retreat. Heard you run down the hall and out of his quarters entirely.

Well, that was familiar. But it wasn't as if you hadn't seen him naked in the bath before, so why-

Blue light, blue stone, blue skin, blue him!

You had seen.

#lasabrjotr #loki (marvel) #loki x reader

[help-on-four-paws]

How I Help My Girl as a Medical Alert and Response Dog

To read the original blog post, click here.

TW: self-harm mention

This photo was taken while I was just finishing up doing Deep Pressure Therapy for my girl. I moved to her legs because her body had already started responding to the pressure I'd been putting on her chest earlier, so she just needed some final grounding before this episode passed. You can see from my face how seriously I take my job!

A Medical Alert Service Dog performs a trained behaviour to indicate that their handler is about to have or is currently having a medical episode,* and a Medical Response Service Dog helps a handler who has a medical disability.  Both types of Service Dogs can assist with a range of medical conditions, from epilepsy to type 1 diabetes, and from postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome to narcolepsy, and everything in between.  It's not uncommon for a dog who is a Medical Response Service Dog to also be a Medical Alert Service Dog, because we dogs are perceptive creatures with strong noses and will often pick up on our handler's changes in body chemistry.  Remember, though, that a Service Dog under the ADA must be "individually trained" in the task(s) that they perform for their disabled handler.  This means that a dog who performs a natural medical alert does not qualify as a Service Dog in the US unless that alert is reinforced by the handler (or a trainer) since the Service Dog must be "trained to take a specific action" under the ADA.  As a Service Dog for my girl, I am both a Medical Alert and Medical Response Service Dog because I perform tasks both that alert her to a medical episode and that are in response to medical episodes.

Because my girl has such a broad range of symptoms, I also have a variety of alert behaviours so that I can tell her exactly what's going on with her body.

As I explained in my post about my Psychiatric Service Dog tasks, I alert my girl to rising anxiety and incoming panic attacks through a variety of her body's signals.  One of the very first tasks I learned to help my girl was pawing with increasing intensity in order to interrupt her when she starts nervous-scratching or picking at herself.  Her anxiety causes her to do this unknowingly, often to the point where she bleeds, and since the scabs that form become itchy, the cycle can continue quite easily -- so the trick is interrupting the cycle so that she can catch herself before she starts bleeding, which is exactly what I do!  This pawing also acts as an anxiety alert because the scratching indicates that her anxiety is rising close to the point of "no return."  I can also alert to increasing heart rate or elevated cortisol as signs that her anxiety is rising, as well as to her anxious "hand flapping" that she does as a physical anxiety tic, and I use a paw for these as well so that all anxiety alerts are clumped together into one behaviour.

A couple years ago, my girl added a hypoglycemia alert to my repertoire of tasks.  Her GI issues are understandably the (most likely) culprit of her drops in blood sugar, which itself causes an assortment of un-fun symptoms, but the situation is even more nuanced than that: thanks to my girl's chronic nausea, she often doesn't want to eat, but she has to be careful because blood sugar dipping too low can be a trigger for her migraines, which can last multiple days.  As you can imagine, my girl is grateful for any kind of preventative action!  My hypoglycemia alert can tell her when she absolutely needs to push past her nausea, even if eating causes its own form of discomfort, because that discomfort is the lesser of the two potential evils.  I currently alert with a nose "boop" when her meter reads 80 mg/dL or lower.  Sometimes I do a "chin rest" with a serious look on my face, and although this is my default "there's something wrong with you but I'm not formally trained to alert to it" behaviour, my girl has learned that sometimes I do this instead of a nose boop .  My girl hasn't yet figured out if this is because her low blood sugar stems from two different causes, and since I'm a dog, I can't really communicate my reasoning to her.  For the time being, we're treating it as a training glitch, and she keeps reinforcing the "boop" whenever I offer the "chin rest" instead.  When I learned my hypoglycemia alert, I also learned the Breath Check command, where my girl leans down so I can sniff her breath better.  This behaviour helps reassure my girl that my alert was a true alert and not just an accidental nose boop, because if I still give the nose boop after a Breath Check, then my girl knows to definitely check her blood sugar.

If you've read this far, you've already learned that my girl has migraines, and they most likely have a genetic component to them because they run in her family.  Although my girl knows some triggers for her migraines -- pressure changes due to thunderstorms, low blood sugar -- these migraines are tricksters and don't always let her know what causes them.  That's where I can help!  I have a migraine alert where I gently "mouth" my girl on the hand in order to let her that a migraine is coming on.  This behaviour lets her know to take her migraine medication, which can help lessen the impact and also duration of the migraine (however, it's not perfect and sometimes her migraines ignore medication completely).  We haven't figured out a way for me to tell my girl how long her migraine is going to last, since it would be helpful to know if one is going to last 9 days or only a few hours, but hey, at least I can sometimes give her a bit of warning and that's better than nothing!

My newest medical alert (that I'm still perfecting, by the way) is to my girl's fatigue crashes.  For a period of time after my girl exerts herself either physically or mentally, even to an extent that most normal people would consider "minor," she experiences a major energy crash, often accompanied by a "flare up" of other symptoms like chronic pain, anxiety, overstimulation (aka lots and lots of tears), or headaches and even her migraines.  With these crashes, she can often barley think coherently, let alone function like a normal person, and even walking can sometimes feel like an insurmountable feat.  When I give her an alert to an impending fatigue crash, I'm letting her know that she's going down fast so she needs to get herself ready for that, whether it's getting water to put beside her bed, finding the nearest dark and quiet space, or emailing someone to cancel plans while she still has the brain power to do so.  Anyone who knows my girl knows that her face has it's own "alert" -- her cheeks turn lobster-red immediately before a fatigue crash.  However, my alerts help for two main reasons: first, fatigue crash-to-lobster face isn't a 1:1 ratio and my girl can crash without lobster-ing, and second, fatigue crashes can happen in a time frame ranging from immediately after an exertion to a day or so after doing the exertion.  My absence of an alert reassures my girl that she has at least a little more time to live her life normally, so my alerts offer her some predictability, which is nice to have when your chronic illness is largely unpredictable.

I want to take a moment to note that my medical alerts vary in how good I am at performing them.  Medical alerting has probably been my biggest training struggle, so my girl and I still practice with scent samples quite frequently (and if you want to learn how I was taught to alert to medical episodes, click here).

If I alert my girl to her rising anxiety or an impending panic attack, one of the ways she can respond to that alert is by asking me to perform Deep Pressure Therapy (DPT), which is a form of firm sensory input that results in a calming effect for the body.  I do DPT for my girl by lying on her chest preferably, especially because it forces her to take deep breaths instead of hyperventilating, but I can also lie across her legs if we're not in a situation where she can lie down fully.   My body weight acts to quiet her sympathetic nervous system, which is responsible for her "fight or flight" response, and instead activates her parasypathetic nervous system, which is responsible for her "rest and digest" response and therefore is associated with decreased anxiety.  As a result, her panic symptoms decrease, and she can eventually continue her life as normal.  DPT may look like "just cuddling," but - scientifically - it's so much more!  I can also do deep pressure therapy for her chronic pain, most often my girl's hips.  My body heat acts like a hot water bottle to soothe her joints.

When my girl has one of her migraines, I can respond by doing forward momentum pulling, where I act like a dog-sized tugboat by pulling into my harness.  Many people think of migraines as "just a headache," but migraines are actually a neurological problem.  My girl's migraines "scramble" her brain and make it short-circuit on her, even if she has taken medication to get rid of the pain.  Navigation can be a little tricky with a brain that's not cooperating, especially in a crowded area.  Add in light sensitivity due to the migraine and navigation can be just downright difficult.  But that's where I can help!  Because my forward momentum pulling as a guiding aspect to it, I make sure that my girl gets safely where she needs to go.  She can just close her eyes against the light if need be, and I'll weave around people and other moving obstacles as needed.  The pulling aspect of this task also helps with my girl's balance, which is often thrown off by her brain's migraine "scrambling."  I know how to find a few locations, lead her to a handful of important people in her life, and follow an indicated person.  Sometimes words are tricky when my girl has a migraine and she'll trip over her words while trying to tell me where to go or what to do, but luckily I know her well enough after four years of being her pup that I can interpret her vague gesturing pretty accurately.

Of course, I can also perform forward momentum pulling when my girl's fatigue is flaring, even if I often do it to save her energy.  When I pull her along, she doesn't use quite as much energy while walking and therefore doesn't get tired as quickly as she would walking on her own.  Of course, the energy saved isn't vast, but every little erg of energy is necessary when you start your day short on spoons.  When I do forward momentum pulling for my girl when she's experiencing fatigue, it can make a huge difference in whether or not she can accomplish a task.

Moving to a home with more space has meant that I've been able to expand my tasks in migraine response.  Over the course of the past year, I've learned how to open doors using a special tug, as well as closing them with my nose.  I have slowly begun learning how to turn light switches on and off all by myself.  Being able to close doors and turn off the lights is helpful for my girl's migraines because she can get very light and sound sensitive.  However, the pounding in her head gets worse with any small movement, so if I can save her getting out of bed, I prevent her from having to endure that pain.  Similarly, I can do both of these tasks when my girl is having a high pain or fatigue day and appreciates whenever I can save her from doing even small actions, like when I help her undress at night.

Opening and closing doors has led to another task that I'm currently working on: retrieving a bottle of ginger ale from a specific spot in the fridge.  In order to complete this task, I need to know how to open the fridge with a tug, grab the drink in its special holder (since its glass and therefore slippery), deliver the bottle to my girl in another room, and then return to close the fridge.  Assuming I'm in my girl's bedroom with her, I would also have to open and close her bedroom door as well.  That's a lot for a pup to remember to do!  It's taking a lot of practice (and many treats!), but I'm starting to learn what I need to do.  Once I've perfected this task, I'll be able to respond to my girl's bouts of bad nausea by bringing her a bottle of ginger ale.

You may have noticed that there's a lot of overlap between my psychiatric tasks, my mobility tasks, and my medical alert/response tasks.  One symptom can be helped by many tasks, and one task can simultaneously help many symptoms.  My girl's health issues are often interconnected and have similar symptoms, so it makes sense that my tasks can overlap to help multiple aspects of her health.  I have a lot of aspects of my job, it's true, but I'm a pup that needs a job and needs to be mentally stimulated -- my foster mom knew this when she was trying to find me a fur-ever home, and so far, thanks to my girl's ever-fluctuating symptoms, there's been no shortage of work for me to do in this fur-ever home.  And as a bonus, I get paid with fetch, and that's a pretty good trade-off in my opinion!

* Some people classify Medical Alert Dogs as only those dogs who alert their handlers before a medical event occurs, but we're including dogs who alert both before an episode and during episode (e.g. since dogs who assist diabetics are usually called Diabetic Alert Dogs, even though most of the time, they're alerting to a handler's already high or low blood sugar level - although some also alert to rapidly rising or rapidly lowering blood sugar levels).

If you missed Part 1 of this series about how I help my girl as a Psychiatric Service Dog, click here.  And if you missed Part 2 of this series about how I help my girl as a Mobility Service Dog, click here.

#medical alert dog #medical response dog #service dog tasks

[completeandrandomshit]

Linda Ronstadt on the Togetherness of Making Music With Someone Else: 'It's as Intimate as Sex'

  AUGUST 23, 2019 – 5:00 AM  – 0 COMMENTS

24

By

WALTER SCOTT

(Jim Smeal/Shutterstock)

Ten-time Grammy award winner and Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductee Linda Ronstadt, 73, is the subject of the new documentary Linda Ronstadt: The Sound of My Voice (in theaters September 6). The movie features her own recollections, archival footage and interviews with Emmylou Harris, Don Henley, J.D. Souther, Dolly Parton and others.

Related: Trisha Yearwood Says Linda Ronstadt Was One of Her Biggest Influences

Was music always your destiny?

I remember sitting in first grade having a hard time with arithmetic, thinking, I won’t have to do arithmetic when I’m big; I’ll be a singer. I didn’t think about it in terms of being a star; I just thought about it as singing and getting paid to do it.

Growing up in an isolated area, on an Arizona ranch, was music a big part of your childhood?

I think music would have been a big part of my childhood no matter, because my family is musical. It was just a part of what we did washing dishes, riding in the car or sitting at the dining room table. My father would start singing and we’d all jump in with harmony.

You were diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in 2012, which has affected your vocal cords. Do you miss it?

When people ask me if I miss singing—I don’t miss performing. When anybody comes over, one of my nephews or somebody from my family, we [still] sit down and put our heads together and sing. That’s fun.

From watching this film, you appear to be modest about your talent. How did the producers convince you to make this documentary about your life?

Nobody wants to be scrutinized, least of all me. But there were several offers out there and there were people that were just going to go ahead and do it anyway. [Directors] Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman­­­ sent me an email and it was so nicely written that I wrote back and said no. Usually, I just ignore it. They wrote back and said it was the nicest rejection letter they’d ever had.

Then I was watching PBS and the Harvey Milk documentary came on that I had already seen [The Times of Harvey Milk, directed by Epstein], but I watched it again, and it was so well done, and their offer had been that the documentary would be based on my book, so I figured I already had vetted the material. And they stayed true to their word. I didn’t have that much to do with it, but they wanted some current footage, so I said, “We’re going to Mexico, you have to come with us.”

It’s the little town where my grandfather was born. It’s a beautiful little town in Mexico. I went down there with 20 schoolkids and we shot footage for two different documentaries.

At the beginning of the movie, it says that you feel that there are singers that are better than you.

There are plenty of singers that are better than I am.

Why then were you such a success as opposed to other people?

The other people that were better singers were successful—Bonnie Raittand Joni Mitchell—there’s legions of them. They were very successful, and I trail in their wake, but I was more than happy to because it was inspiring to me. It took a long time to learn how to sing. It took me a good 10 years to figure out how to push phrases around. I used to get depressed and think I couldn’t sing very well, and then I’d think, Well, tonight’s the night to make it better.

You obviously did something right along the way because in this documentary there are people like Emmylou Harris, Dolly Parton, Don Henley—and the list goes on—who are all a part of this and so supportive of you. Talk about your relationships with your fellow musicians. It sounds as if you weren’t competitive, but collaborative.

Music is inherently collaborative and cooperative, and not competitive. It’s a conspiracy. José Abreu, this guy in Venezuela that started the youth orchestra that is high quality, said, “Music is a conspiracy; it’s a conspiracy to commit beauty.” The word conspiracy comes from the Greek word conspiro, which means to breathe together.

So, when you’re singing with somebody, you’re breathing with them, so you form a conspiracy. There’s a great intimacy that happens with somebody that you have successfully sung with, the music works. It’s as intimate as sex, but it’s not sex. With both men and women, there’s a closeness that you shared, a sentiment or a sorrow or a joy, and you express it in a similar enough way so that the two sounds match up and form a new thing.

When you started, there were very few women in rock and roll. Did you ever consider that you had a harder path to follow?

Nah, I just followed the music. Sure, was there sexism in the music business? You bet. But I had pretty nice people in the band, and all they cared about was whether the music was grooving or not. We had played enough to worry about that. You showed up and kept trying to make music better, that was what mattered.

Related: Why It Matters That Carrie Underwood, Dolly Parton and Reba McEntire Are Hosting the CMAs This Year

At one point, you walked away from the big arenas and you wanted to explore other aspects of music, like Pirates of Penzance. Do you see yourself as being brave or it was just something you had to do?

I was just not affected by that. I just was sick of playing sporting arenas. They were unsuitable for music, and it wasn’t very gratifying. In those great big arenas, there’s no nuance, subtlety doesn’t carry. It’s expected to be big and loud. It was hard being loud. I felt like I had a really tiny-sounding voice because the band was so loud.

But a lot of people couldn’t have walked away from the money that arena concerts earn.

I didn’t even think of the money. Duh! Forty thousand people in an arena compared to 1,500 in a small theater?

Congratulations. You’re going to be in the next group of Kennedy Center Honors recipients.

With Big Bird! I’m excited. I hope he comes. [In addition to Ronstadt, the 2019 Kennedy Center honorees—which will be inducted in a ceremony December 8 in Washington, D.C.—also include the PBS series Sesame Street, actress Sally Field, conductor Michael Tilson Thomas and the band Earth, Wind & Fire.]

What does something like that mean to you?

It means that, basically, it’s all over [laughs]. It’s very nice to be recognized. When I look back on my career, I don’t play my records for fun. I sometimes play something to check on it or to get some reference, but I don’t sit around and play my records, because they make me crazy. I hear every bad note.  If I hear something particularly awful, I think I never could sing anything, that everything was that awful. It will wreck my week. So, what I’ll do is I just won’t listen to it ever again. I’ll just go with their assessment and let the Kennedy Center assess that overall the work was sufficient. But it’s really the work that matters, not the prizes, although I’m very happy to be acknowledged.

At this point in your life, is there something that you don’t have that you want?

A pony. A goat. A couple of sheep. I love those things. I don’t live in the country anymore, so I can’t have them. A pony, a goat and a sheep and some chickens. I had that when I lived in Tucson, right in the middle of the city. I had an urban farm. It was fun. It was too hot there for goats and chickens and people. I’d spend the whole summertime cooling them off.

Who do you listen to? Any young upcoming singers that you enjoy?

I love First Aid Kit. They’re really good. They’re these two Swedish girls that are sisters, and they write and sing. They’re real good musicians and they have a really good band. They’re wonderful. They’re international stars too. I like Sia for my mainstream. She’s an interesting singer.

Do you still listen to the Frank Sinatra album every night, which was mentioned in the film?

No, I never listened to it every night, but there was a period when I studied it pretty hard. Now it’s in my brain and I can play it whenever I want.

Your career spanned rock, pop, country, Latin and opera. What do you see as your legacy?

Rampant eclecticism. Not a great career choice, but I somehow got away with a lot of it.

Any regrets? If you could have a do over, is there something that you would change?

I think I could have lived my life with more grace: grace of movement, grace of speech, grace of communicating with people, grace in living.

THANKS TO WALTER SCOTT AND PARADE.COM FOR THE ARTICLE.

#linda ronstadt #walter scott #parade magazine #parade.com #real music #classic rock

[amymation101]

Animation Reviews: The Dragon Prince

Hello again lovelies. T’is once again I. Don’t know why I’m pumping these out so fast except that I find them to be really relaxing for me. Which is probably why they are so terrible and if you can read my ramblings with anything resembling enjoyment you are a better person than I am. Anyway...the next show that I want to talk about is The Dragon Prince, a show that has really blown up in popularity and deservedly so. Once again I’m going to try to avoid spoilers as much as possible because I feel everybody should see these shows and judge them for themselves. Anyhoo, here we goooooo!

Characters: This is a major strength of this show right away, especially for me. It’s pretty much common knowledge at this point but the creator of The Dragon Prince was one of the head writers for Avatar the Last Airbender and boy does it show. Just to be clear, I mean that in the best possible way. The Dragon Prince has a huge cast that it juggles very well. To try to keep this section under control I will just be focusing on what could be considered the main characters but know that all the characters in this show, from the mains to the sides to the background, all give the impression of being well rounded and fully realized. So with that out of the way, onto this mess of a section. The main trio Callum, Ezran, and Rayla work off of each other beautifully and balance each other out. But what is most fun to watch is how they both do, and don’t, fit into stereotypical roles. Ezran (the crown prince of one of the Human Kingdoms) is the heart of the group and also, one could argue, the wisdom. Despite his young age he is adept at reading people’s characters and makes his judgements on that rather than the biases of the world in which they live. His decision to trust people and his compassion drives the story forward and it is his actions that get the ball rolling. Watching his interactions with his older brother Callum will also give you a case of the feels. Once again, sibling relationship done right. Rayla, the muscle, uses her combat (read: awesome elf assassin) prowess to get the group out of many a tight spot. But that’s not all Rayla is. Her sense of humor is sarcastic and witty and she is the source of both the most heartbreaking and side-splitting moments in the show. I don’t think I can oversell what a complex character she is and how much she will steal your heart. As for Callum, oh sweetie. I suppose if you had to label him, he would be the brains of the group, but as with all these characters, he is so much more than that. Awkward and unsure of himself, he is a character who doesn’t know what he has to offer, while unwittingly possessing powerful potential. I just…*wipes tears from my eyes*... love characters like this. He is also a bit of a goof and his back and forth with Rayla drives both the humor and their character development. All of the characters in The Dragon Prince are like this though. Although you can technically slot them into character tropes, they are really much more than their assigned role. They are complex is what I’m getting at. The other main characters to note are Soren, Claudia, Viren, and King Harrow. Soren and Claudia are a brother and sister duo who are truly a joy to watch. Their popularity is enormous thanks to their complex relationship with each other, the wildly different relationship they each have with their father Viren, and the fact that they are giant walking memes. Soren is probably the closest thing the show has to the stereotypical “all muscle but no brains” character type. But as I keep saying over and over again, there is more to him than that. He has his moments of sweetness, protectiveness, and an incredibly relatable moment of stress-eating that made me absolutely fall in love with him. Claudia is a mage in training, frighteningly powerful but goofy and more than a bit spacy. Together they are a dream team of hilarity and, for all you fanfic writers out there, tons of unexplored potential angst. Ugh. I could go on about them all day but I suppose I should try to get to a few more characters before I head to story town as this section is already becoming more of a train wreck than I could have ever imagined. Viren is the character everyone loves to hate, but once again as with all these characters, I feel that there is more to him than meets the eye. That’s all I’ll say about him at the moment as I don’t want to get into spoilers. King Harrow is a fantastic father to Ezran and Callum, with his relationship with the latter producing some most excellent feels. I’m going to group the last characters together even though they each deserve their own spot simply because The Dragon Prince has a huge cast (as stated previously) that are all, say it with me now, really complex. Aunt Amaya and Gren are two notable standouts of the side cast, as is Runaan, the stoic but lovable leader of the Moon Elves. But this section is taking up way more space than I was originally anticipating so let me just leave you with this: all the characters in The Dragon Prince are fun and ~complex~ with plenty to talk about with each of them and enough of them for everyone to find a favorite (or a dozen favorites in my case).

Story: The world of The Dragon Prince is very high fantasy, what with all the elves and dragons and magical creatures running amok. That said, it does do a few new things with this very familiar setting. First of all, the conflict driving the plot and world of Xadia and the Human Kingdoms is surprisingly nuanced for a kid’s show. Not too surprising when you remember that it’s from the same writers as ATLA, but even in that show there were very clear “good guys” and “bad guys”, especially in the beginning. In TDP (I’m getting tired of typing The Dragon Prince over and over again) however, who the “good guy” is and the “bad guy” is muddled. The humans do a bad thing and the elves and dragons do bad things in return. No one is really the unambiguous good guy or bad guy which leads to both sides feeling justified in doing terrible things to each other. It’s messy and all too real. Which is why it is so important that our main trio (two humans and an elf) are the ones who try to right a wrong together, in order to demonstrate that peace and cooperation can be attained and that war is not always a foregone conclusion. It’s not smooth or easy and there is still much to reckon with on both sides, but there is hope for the future. So, with that little preamble out of the way, what is the story of TDP? It is essentially a retrieval mission to get the titular dragon prince back to his mother after he was thought to have been assassinated but was instead kidnapped by the humans. This doesn’t seem like much of a plot, but this allows for the world of TDP to come to life in the form of the places and people met along this journey. I don’t want to get into spoilers so I won’t say much more about the plot for the time being. Just know that sometimes simplicity can lead to the most ~complex~ storylines and character development. Now, it is time to move onto what could be considered the elephant in the room when talking about TDP.

Animation and Character Design: Sooo….the character designs in TDP are actually quite lovely. Everyone has a distinctive design and color palette. The colors in particular have special meaning to the characters and are a good showcase of both their personalities and where their loyalties lie (look at Callum for an example of this, his mixture of reds and blues is quite thematic about how he feels out of place in this world as well as giving a little nod to the politics of the Human Kingdoms as well). The backgrounds also deserve a quick shout-out. They are beautifully detailed and a real treat to the eye. As for the animation, well, it appears to be rather hit or miss with people. I admit that I did not care for the animation until about halfway through my first time watching (yes, I am a huge nerd and have seen the show three times and counting) because by that point I was so engrossed in the story and characters that the animation hiccups no longer mattered to me. On my second watch, I didn’t have any problems with the animation at all, most likely because I was used to it at that point. And really... it’s not that bad. Sure, it could be smoother in some places, but it is overall serviceable and even glorious in some places. The action scenes are particularly well served by the animation. And this is coming from someone who has expressed her displeasure with 3D or 2.5D animation that tries to look like 2D in the past. Plus, if it bothers you too much, but you liked everything else, the creators have gone out and said that they are going to work hard on making the animation smoother next season. So yeah. I guess that about covers it. I feel like I only barely touched the surface with this show. Especially with the characters and all their **~~complexity~~**. I highly recommend this show if you are a fan of ATLA, enjoy fantasy, enjoy adventure shows, enjoy fun character writing, and enjoy world-building. The Dragon Prince pairs nicely with some popcorn and soda or other such snacks and is available on Netflix.

#the dragon prince #tdp #review #long post #like seriously long post #i think i let this one get away from me #oh well #its just for fun

[rfield87]

Writing Advice from Best-Selling Authors: Maya Angelou

This week’s re-blog was written by Brian Rowe and is titled: A Dozen Quotes by Maya Angelou to Make You a Better Writer. It was published on October 24, 2019. If you would like to read the original post on The Writing Cooperative website, I will leave the link below.

https://writingcooperative.com/a-dozen-quotes-by-maya-angelou-to-make-you-a-better-writer-b6c90e800906

A Dozen Quotes by Maya Angelou to Make You a Better Writer

Maya Angelou (1928 - 2014) is one of the most celebrated writers of our time. She was a poet, a singer, a memoirist, a civil rights advocate. She even directed a feature film! If there’s anyone to turn to for inspiration for your writing, Maya Angelou is definitely the one.

Here are a dozen quotes she said over the years that will help your writing immensely!

1. “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”

Probably her most famous quote about writing, and one of my all-time favorites. Because she’s absolutely right. If there’s a story inside you that needs to get out, don’t wait. Don’t ponder. Because it hurts so much to keep it inside of you. Once it’s on the page, even in a mediocre first draft, you simply feel so much better!

2. “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

You can write the most beautifully written novel ever written, but if you don’t make your readers feel anything, you’re never going to be successful as a writer. Because readers young and old will forget the words you used. What they’ll never forget is how you made them feel, what you made them remember about their own lives as they read your novel. Find a way to your readers’ hearts, and amazing things can happen.

3. “The idea is to write it so that people hear it and it slides through the brain and goes straight to the heart.”

When you find your way to readers’ hearts, they will thank you. To think on a story is one thing. It’s important for the story to work in the brain, too, of course. But when readers are only using their brains when they read through your work, you’ll never be able to make a significant impact on their lives. Go for the heart each and every time.

4. “I don’t know about lying for novelists. I look at some of the great novelists, and I think the reason they are great is that they’re telling the truth. The fact is they’re using made-up names, made-up people, made-up places, and made-up times, but they’re telling the truth about the human being - what we are capable of, what makes us lose, laugh, weep, fall down, and gnash our teeth and wring our hands and kill each other and love each other.”

That’s the beauty of great fiction, isn’t it? That even though the characters and situations are made-up, the whole story reads like the truth. There’s not even the slightest whiff of lying anywhere. No whiff of artificiality. Make sure even in your most outlandish and weird and bizarre of fiction that you’re constantly telling the truth, and readers will always come along for the ride.

5. “When I look back, I am so impressed again with the life-giving power of literature. If I were a young person today, trying to gain a sense of myself in the world, I would do that again by reading, just as I did when I was young.”

I feel sad for all the young people today who don’t read. Who get their information from the iPad and from their phones. Who would rather play games for two hours than pick up a classic children’s book. Because reading absolutely does give you a sense of yourself in the world. It shapes your life and opens up your life in ways nothing else can.

6. “The desire to reach for the stars is ambitious. The desire to reach hearts is wise.”

Another quote about reaching for the hearts of readers, which is obviously important to Ms. Angelou. And of course, it’s important because that’s really how you reach your readers, not through anything else. Your ambition in your latest novel to reach for the stars is noble, but never forget to tell a story that expresses emotion for the reader, too.

7. “Each time I write a book, every time I face that yellow pad, the challenge is so great. I have written eleven books, but each time I think, ‘Uh oh, they’re going to find me now. I’ve run a game on everybody and they’re going to find me out.’”

This is one thing nobody tells you about writing novels. It really doesn’t get easier. You learn a few tricks along the way, and when you write eleven novels, you know in your heart you can write a twelfth. But the process itself is always hard, both in drafting and revising, and there’s always that tiny voice in your head that says that even if you’ve had some success in the past, you’re going to be discovered to be a fraud this time out. It’s just the way it is!

8. “I believe that the most important single thing, beyond discipline and creativity is daring to dare.”

You simply have to be daring in your fiction writing. Don’t give us the same old thing. Don’t just write a genre book that you think might sell. You need to have discipline and creativity in your writing life, but you absolutely need to be daring to dare, because that’s when the truly original projects come about, the projects that readers are clamoring for.

9. “You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have.”

She’s absolutely right about this. Creativity can’t be used up. Creativity doesn’t just go away. The more of it you use, the more of it you have, because it just builds and builds with  the more ideas that come to you and the more you spend the day dreaming and working and contemplating and discovering. There’s not a limit to your creativity, remember that.

10. “I make writing as much a part of my life as I do eating or listening to music.”

Writing doesn’t have to be a small part of your day, even if your situation only allows for a few select minutes of actual writing. Try to keep writing a large part of your day by using methods like the following: daydream about your story, your world, or jot down ideas on notepads when they come. Think of writing as exercise, as eating food, as listening to music. Make it as big a part of your day, every day, as you can.

11. “Making a decision to write was a lot like deciding to jump into a frozen lake.”

I was so terrified to write my first novel. I had no idea what I was getting into. I had no idea, really, exactly what I was doing. It totally was like jumping into a frozen lake and trying to fight my way out. Making writing a big part of your life is not a decision to make lightly. You really do need passion for discipline. You need to want to do it, or you’ll fade fast, I’m telling you.

12. “When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am, who we are, what we’re capable of, how we feel, how we lose and stand up, and go on from darkness into darkness. I’m trying for that. But I’m also trying for the language. I’m trying to see how it can really sound. I really love language. I love it for what it does for us, how it allows us to explain the pain and the glory, the nuances and delicacies of our existence. And then it allows us to laugh, allows us to show wit. Real wit is shown in language. We need language.”

You should pay attention to the originality in your writing, the pacing, the characters, the genre, the themes. But don’t ever forget the power of language in your writing. The words you choose, The rhythm of your sentences. When you’re immersed in a first draft of a new novel, the language itself night not be at the top of your radar, but it should be. Language is where the writing begins, after all. Never forget that!

[in-paradox-space]

you’re right

we are just choosing to be depressed.

you call it a cold room but I find warmth in the dark blanket of gloom.s

Why is it? We choose the feeling of sorrow over joy.

I suppose if we hold onto it long enough then we can pretend we aren’t the reason. 

We can pretend there’s a we.

Who is he?

Do I need to keep toying with this idea that I am multiple.

Sure, we’re the same person, yes, we are. I need you, you need me and I need I

b u t

We wouldn’t have different desires if we got along

although

we do love each other

what was the moment

was it an indentation

a crack

a split? 

when did I part ways

I remember that younger age

staring into the mirror

Yes. I love myself.

Like a magnet attracted to itself... repulsing any other who came near.

I remember

4 years old 

my dad loved to show me action movies

I don’t care much for fighting now, even then I didn’t, I liked the movies though.

hehe

I remember jumping for joy at the sight of him beating my mother

It used to annoy me so much how my sisters would freak out and yelp

I noticed they’d just make it worse. It completely bewildered me, how this would happen so frequently, enough to make it abundantly clear, how every time they reacted it got worse.

If it bothered them so much then why react? Just accept it. 

I accepted it... because I embraced it. I loved the violence... when it was associated with my father. 

Like I said, not really much of a fighter myself. The movie scenes were always cool though. Especially enjoyed fighting with my dad, although I don’t even remember the moves he taught me I felt like he knew such huge secrets. Such unexpectable tactics, using an opponents body against them. He was the first one I learned that from, I loved it, he knew exactly what someones natural instinct was to defend themselves, so forward-thinking to use that as a means of offense. 

my sisters thought I didn’t understand. I did understand.

I understood they couldn’t control their emotions.

I understood they didn’t really love their mother. If they did then they would’ve understood. They would’ve understood their role. 

I understood, my mother provoked him each time. 

I was 4. Knowledge is learned, but at that age, you just know things, your mind is fresh. You don’t need knowledge, before any time has passed you’ve retained enough information to already have learned.

It became clear step by step. She knew him well enough, they’d been together 2 decades or so. She understood what made him tick. I was only 4 right... I didn’t understand anything did I? Well, I understood what I saw. 

She knew what made him angry. The arguments would reach a logical conclusion. They’d both reach an equal exchange. After much aggrieviation he would accept he did wrong. She wouldn’t, but he was willing to move on if she would just stop shouting at him, he understood she didn’t want to acknowledge anything she did as unjustified.

Then he’d get that look. 

She must know him well enough. I mean, there’s two sides to it. If she cared about herself, she would know just to leave it be at that moment. Provoking him more would have the same result as it always had. Every other day, I remember about 3.5 years of it but who knows maybe it was before then too. 

That’s enough time to recognise every little detail intuitively isn’t it?

I recognised those moments of remorse. 

He’d beg her just to help him 

just to cooperate. 

Then. If she cared about him. If she cared about him she would recognise that any emotion is too much when someone gets to their limit. He doesn’t act like that normally. There’s a reason for it. 

She just didn’t stop. 

She just

didn’t stop. 

The problem is

although, i cant say its a problem because I have to be grateful with my life for it 

is that she started in the first place. 

too stubborn to stop. much like me right now. 

the truth is

I really enjoyed it back then, watching them fight. 

I would love to get good looks at it 

sometimes I’d shout encouragement

go on dad, punch her, yeah! 

It was so exciting. 

Even now, I do find some glee in the thought. 

Of course, I don’t want it now, but I remember the times clearly enough.

tis a shame

they’d always ruin the moment by screaming and crying. it would annoy me so much. I’d tell them shut up. 

damn

that must’ve really screwed em up

i can imagine what it felt like for someone who actually had typical baseline emotional associations for their family members

they was older than me. I imagine they watched their loving father grow more and more stressed, antagonized and relentless. 

it was like, only until we got older, I was the only one who saw the horrible sides of my mother. The neglect. Neglect with the voice of a forced smile. Forced as if someone was literally holding a gun to her. Does it hurt that much? You don’t need to smile and pretend to care mum. I wouldn’t have expected you to care every time. disinterest was completely fine. shame you bottled it all up, concealed it, so poorly. that was so much worse than disinterest.

I got disinterested too you know. 

Shame you had to bottle it into neglect. 

I know it was hard though. I know I was tough. 

Truth is. 

I’d say, I’d put down cigarettes for you. 

but would I? I never really did pause my games for you.

I guess we was both responsible for the cloud of smoke which stopped us sharing our air. 

your mother was right

I’m sorry to bring her into such a note. 

You should have disciplined me.

Funny, how I feel I’m able to blame you for the fact I’m even writing something like this. 

Funny. 

Now I look back. 

If only you disciplined me

yeah we’ll pin it all on that

I bet if you just didn’t smoke... I can’t even imagine it.

starting at age 9

you must’ve had a real tough time back then

honestly

I would love to hear in depth what you went through

im 21 

all I know is some sentences from your entire youth 

childhood to young adulthood 

I would love to know

every, single, minute nuance and indiscrepency of that time when you was 8

even more delightsome

every memory precursing it from 7 and even 6. 

I remember the story of the little chicken you bought

a small price

you had to take it back though. your mum wouldn’t let you keep a little chicken in your room.

well. 

maybe. I know its complicated

but it would have been nice if you all understood back then

that you should have allowed me to be excited and joyful, of my father beating my mother, of my mothers verbal spite returning to her in physical form. 

you didnt need to shield me from the realities. I already saw every detail enough to remember it before I was 4.

No, that didn’t traumatize me. 

I think, I’d be a lot (less) different if it did. 

you didn’t need to shield me.

In my flowery, blossomic fantasy. 

Aysh, my dear sister, you didn’t need to scream and cry.

You could’ve smiled warmly at the fact your darling brother found even this delightsome. 

There’s reason to be joyful in any situation.

My older ones. 

All you did was get in the way. There was no way you could stop me seeing it. Do you think, in the slower perception of time I had in my young brain, that I didn’t absorb every single speckle of detail in the scenario with the long 5 minutes I had to watch it unfold

the 5 minutes you was completely oblivious and dumbfounded

brushing me off to another side of the room wouldn’t stop me from seeing anything

besides i could hear it. 

why did you even make yourselves watch it if you didn’t like it. 

you could’ve stopped it too.

“mum, you’re making him angry. I know you’re upset but just be patient with him. If you give him some space to breathe he’ll show you he already loves you.”

you just had to be patient with him

I guess when you’re hooked on nicotine since age 9, your 4 year old son has taken all your patience for himself. 

Around age 5. 

Although, it honestly dampened my soul to do so.

I copied and imitated my sisters.

It would make them freak out so much more when I screamed in excitement.

Then it would ruin the experience. 

It would annoy me so much. I still feel remnants of the annoyance now. That irritating sound of my sister ugly crying and wailing. the low, long sob. Just pull yourself together. Like, why cry so soon? Just stop. Wow. Why do you even care? 

Look. I care about you... without the thought of you reacting so maternally. 

but come on

why ugly cry so desparingly? Just like. why cry so much each time? It’s happened for years hasn’t it? Why aren’t you numb to it yet? It got boring. It honestly got boring. 

oh same old reaction is it dad? Don’t you get tired of the same old fights and arguments mum? You both know exactly what you’ll say and act... might as well just not acknowledge each other.

You know

the most ridiculous part of it

she would always hit him first

over and over and over again 

like she was literally asking for it

communicating with her hands

go on hit me back hit me hahahaha youre not allowed are you hahahaha you just have to hold onto those tears, mind if i abuse you some more, hit me back, hit me back, hahaha, what are you going to cry in front of your children? no? gonna get angry instead oh boohoo, over and over.

following him as he walked away

literally 

what on earth do you expect?

what really annoyed me

was the fact she’d always get so upset when he finally fought back

and he wouldnt even hit her straight away

he’d do everything he could, knock over furnitures, shout, tell her, even plead with her, just stop, leave me alone, i dont want to argue tonight.

then she’d act like it wasnt her fault

like somehow, she didnt cause it all to happen.

she would tell us all the different ways in which he’s evil.

but she underestimated me because I’m young, i supposedly dont know anything and will believe what I hear

but i saw about 5 events a second, I’d have minutes at a time to watch before anyone else even clocked on. I’d say these things like 20 minutes to maybe 45 but its hard to tell because time was slower back then. honestly felt like 2 hours or so. bored out of my mind, not allowed to watch tv because my sisters were freaking out too much

5 minutes every other day. it becomes very easy to spot the recurring events. then notice in which order they happen. which responses only come when a certain previous event has happened. I knew, i could actually measure, by looking at him, how close to the limit he was, when he reached the limit and how further over the limit he’d need to get for it to physically manifest beyond my awareness and into acts of frustration.

either telling me no you cant watch tv right now or no look away

are you stupid

hahaha

shouldve told me to stay in my room and close my ears instead

maybe that way i wouldve been properly traumatized and scared

then maybe i wouldnt be such a freak now

because id have regular memories to talk through with CBT

 but i wouldnt be scared of my father

you just took your mothers information at face value.

but i saw everything that happened.

and most of all

i didnt just hear his words. i heard HIM

i understood he had a short fuse, he got angry, sometimes he’d even smack us 

but he never hurt us if we didnt do something wrong

he wouldve never laid hand on us without good reason

and yes he’d make sure it hurt but it was only enough to remember what we did and think about it. 

it baffles me

how did they think he would ever hurt them

even when we made him angry

he wouldn’t do that. 

he even tried his hardest, not to hurt the mother of his children

but she literally begged him to attack

legally

you cant beg, ask or plead with somebody to do something without using words

but humans dont exist within the confines of the law

They do exist within the law of the Lord. 

what im saying is, although in a court of law its a discrepency 

you can communicate with your body

with your energy for use of another word

with actions

how absolutely numb do you have to be to not understand, those actions make him  attack you

its not even about standing up for youself

you wouldnt have to stand up for yourself if you didndt provoke him

if youd just love him and forgive him, then we’d all stand for each other

no standing alone for yourself

and only yourself, but in the long run, for nobody. 

so to summarise

what im getting at is

when i was 5. i stopped expressing my excitement. 

and i couldve comfortably stayed there.

i couldve just watched. 

but i skipped a few steps. i decided to mimic and imitate my sisters

why? because children are impressionable? i dont know. i just did it and mimiced. it. i dont know if its because i wanted thme to think i was like them. 

maybe. i was always isolated in how completely different i was from everyone else. maybe even my sister was a consolation at that point, to share a likeness to.

so for a while I would scream, and cry. i was more elastic then, it was easy to produce tears. or would i even cry? id just scream like they did. annoyingly hold onto my sisters and pretend to be scared like they would with each other

yay. were now in this together. 

were doing the samre things.

ugh

that really ruined it. 

they believed it. I wish they’d know me enough to know that wasnt genuine. 

so i stopped 

i stopped pretending 

but by then i didnt enjoy it 

i just found it really annoying that my mum always complained

she would cry

act trapped

all this all that

she didnt love him

and we couldnt care any less

we understood the problem would be solved if she would jsut kick him out, its not like hes holding the family together or anything

but every day no mater how much she’d annoyingly yell and screech shes gonna leave him and kick him out

she would just take him back in 

for like a whole year after that

until i turned 7

it went on and on and on. the same old monotonous reactions. how can the exact same thing, being repeated over and over, incite the same emotional response each time

how on earth is it possible for you not to just lose interest by then to the point you dont even care enough to get angry

i knew i was bored of it 

i just wanted to live my days

but my sisters, who, as far as i knew, had had AT LEAST 3 years to get used to this, always always had the same shocked reactions

wheres the shock? its just dinnertime.

its literally

just 7pm. 

Thankfully, we had time to watch the simpsons. 

it is just 7pm

this is what happens when dad gets home

why are you shocked?

is it a surprise that he didnt give her a rose and lovingly eat dinner

its not a surprise to me 

your idiot little brother who didnt know anything and loves to eat up little white lies like the blind deaf imbecile he is.

why lie? like why?

youre so stupid. you always were. you always underestimated me. it was so horrible of you. to act like just because im 3 and 5 years younger than you that i know less than you, that its my job to pretend to believe your lies. 

why do you think my lack of knowledge is an invitation for you to hide the truth from me

if im in this world, the same world as you, why tell me im in a slightly different world which looks feels and sounds just like the one we share. 

why did you underestimate me? because of my age.

theres a difference between elasticity and plasticity.

i dont say youre stupid because youre old

why do you assume im clueless because im young 

youve had your clues

why dont you humble yourself and ask me for the NEW CLUES

do you think thats it? because you noticed patterns in your upbringing that the netire world will never change? is that what you thought? 

if we both respected each other. if we both understood we could teach each other

then at the least 

it wouldnt annoy me so much  that you would lie to me

maybe it wouldnt annoy me so much that when you tried to teach me division

you made me follow you into the bathroom, so you could hold my homework whie sitting on the toilet, just to make me watch you draw on the back of my homework sheet without even asking permission

why was that? you would always use your height and stature to avoid me coming near your room

but whenever i had something you liked, you’d take it and destroy it, share it with your friends to scribble on and cover it in glitter

there was 3 of you 

there was 3 of you

you didnt need my things. 

you didnt even respect what I had

so you couldnt have wanted or cared about ti that badly

if you love something you destroy it? is that what it is

so, didnt really summarise.

i think thats when my mind split apart into more than one

more than one dude 

but shared

there at the same time

using different connections to understand different things then trying to combine the thought 

but not really settling on one thing.

yeah

it was when

i had to pretend to be normal. when i got sick of that feeling, of them wondering why im so different, in enjoying watching my father fight my mother. 

i had to pretend it upset me.

then, there was two(+?)

me

and the veil I hid behind

but i was flexible back then

it wasnt just faking expression, I was like method acting 

and honestly it really ruined the buzz

i did a lot of pretending after that

when my father left

id just repeat stuff i heard other kids say

i thought it was so dumb. stuff i had no interest in. but i just knew, at those times in introductions and conversations and in response to certain events, the kids who had friends would react like that ... so so so stupidly. they was so dumb. you’re kids. you have such a clear mind HOW CAN YOU BE SO DUMB

maybe thats what comes with being able to trust your parents ha ha ha

and yeah

in some ways, that was worse than being alone

its like i was living 

but i was already dead

please forget how many other people have already said those words and read it again like its the first time, so you can truly understand

its like i was living, yes.

but inside, the real me. I wasnt allowed to live, because as long as I lived, I would be treated like I shouldnt be. Like people dont want to breathe the air around me. 

They gave me the look, the one which resembled how that part of me, behind the door, in the darkness of the light which shines through it to the back of my mind, felt, when they failed to remember the basic things which they had already been taught.

it was upsetting.

its like i was living.

but i wasnt allowed to. 

so the real me had to die

just so i could pretend to be someone im not.

it went on into my teens. 

id cut myself

not because i had any interest in t, i just saw how easy it wa to join the emo kids.

say you have depression, cut yourself, respect people with mental health issues, pretend to love Kellin Quinn, be bisexual and whatnot.

youre one of them

you dont even have to try when it comes to comforting them

use the same buzzwords “ stay strong “ “your skin isnt paper”  “youre beautiful” if course that doesnt work now

but age 13-15. thats the way every girl i spoke to online claled me their best friend. thank you so much for always being there every night i need you

and honestly

i do feel baf for acting like they dont deserve to be honoured in speech of them/

i really really am grateful, they allowed me to feel joy, they allowed me to know what its like to have friends, i shared some resemblance to them. 

im really grateful, they was there to talk to each night. even if it meant i had to convince myself i loved cats.

maybe they understand now

psychoses dont make somebody evil

neuroses shouldnt be the attractive mental health conditions which get all the sympathy

even aggressive people need empathy

they feel it too. 

by the way

obviously

this was trying to paint a picture of how it all started

at least the earliest memories i stil have anyway

i dont still rejoice in the thought of my family being torn apart

and i wouldnt call my sister stupid for being upset.

im glad we’re there for each other now

i wouldnt have it any pther way

and i wish them the best

and im really really really proud of everything my sisters have achieved and even moreso all of the things they continue to do. some of them even inspire me.

#personal #long text post #family #repressed emotions

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Secret Investigation by Elizabeth Heiter

Tactical Crime Division #2

The TCD is called in to find out why the body armor supplied to soldiers failed and so many were killed. Davis Rogers is to head up the team looking into Petrov and will end up going in undercover as Leila Petrov’s assistant. There are at least three viable suspects that are being considered. Melinda and Kane are helping out in a side investigation that overlaps the one Davis is working on and their situation is also complicated by...feelings.

What I liked:

* Davis: an army ranger who gives his all to the job and is focused on finding out why the armor failed and his friend died. He is also interested in the chemistry between him and Leila.

* The side story of Melinda and Kane – do want to know how that will turn out...maybe in another book in the series.

* The concept of the series and getting to know the various team members

* Knowing that there will be more books in the series

* That the bad guy was found

* That Leila & Davis have potential for the future

What I did not like:

* The bad guy

* The group that was buying from Petrov on the down-low

* The times I would think, “Would it really happen like that?

Did I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I read more in the series? Yes

Thank you to NetGalley and Harlequin Intrigue for the ARC – This is my honest review.

4 Stars

BLURB

 In the wake of a tragedy, the Tactical Crime Division is the first call. When ironclad body armor inexplicably fails and soldiers perish, the Tactical Crime Division jumps into action. Agent and former ranger Davis Rogers asks to go undercover to find the traitor responsible for the death of one of his friends, and Petrov Armor CEO Leila Petrov is happy to provide access to her company…especially once she discovers she’s being framed. But will their joint efforts be enough to uncover the truth?

EXCERPT

A new miniseries from Harlequin Intrigue.

Welcome to the Tactical Crime Division, a rapid-deployment joint team of FBI agents specializing in hostage negotiation, missing persons, IT, profiling, shootings and terrorism, with Director Jill Pembrook at the head.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Leila Petrov—When defective bulletproof vests cause the deaths of an army unit, Petrov Armor’s CEO is determined to find the person responsible. But her search makes her a liability to a killer, someone who’s closer than she ever expected.

Davis Rogers—The former army ranger thinks going undercover in Petrov Armor is his chance

to prove himself in the FBI’s elite Tactical Crime Division (TCD). But it’s also deeply personal. One of the soldiers killed was a friend, and Davis won’t stop until he’s gotten justice.

Melinda Larsen—The deeper this profiler digs into the Petrov Armor case, the more unexpected threats she uncovers—putting her directly in the line of fire.

Kane Bradshaw—Ever since his last partner died on the job, the TCD agent prefers to work alone. But as he’s forced to work with Melinda, he fears history will repeat itself.

Eric Ross—Petrov Armor’s head of sales was Leila’s first love. He’s jealous of Leila’s obvious interest in her new “assistant,” Davis, but is there something more sinister behind his constant appearances?

Joel Petrov—Leila’s uncle has been an integral part of the company since Leila was a child. But is his involvement too convenient?

***

As in the Bureau, dying in the field was a possibility you accepted. You did whatever you could to prevent it, but if it happened, you knew you’d be going out doing something you believed in. But not like this. Not the way Jessica had died, trusting the military, trusting her training, trusting her equipment.

“I want to take the lead on this case,” Davis blurted. Gazes darted to him: from profiler Dr. Melinda Larsen, silently assessing, suspicion in her eyes, as if she somehow knew he had a history with one of the victims. Always buttoned-up Laura Smith was quiet and unreadable, but her Ivy League brain was probably processing every nuance of his words. JC, staring at him with understanding, even though he didn’t realize Davis knew Jessica personally. No one on the team did. “Is your personal investment in this case going to be a hindrance or a help?” Pembrook asked, voice and gaze steady.

Davis’s spine stiffened even more. She was talking about his army background. She had to be. But if she thought he was going to fidget, she underestimated the hell he’d gone through training to be a ranger for the army. “A help. I’m familiar with how the army works. And I’m familiar with the product. I’ve worn Petrov Armor vests.”

Petrov Armor had supplied the body armor Jessica and her team had been wearing during the ambush. That armor—supposedly the newest and best technology—had failed spectacularly, resulting in the deaths of all but three of the soldiers and one of the locals. In his mind it wasn’t the insurgents who had killed Jessica and her team. It was Petrov Armor.

He didn’t mention the rest. He’d more than just worn the vests. He’d had a chance to be an early tester of their body armor, back when he was an elite ranger and Petrov Armor was better known for the pistols they made than their armor. He’d given the thumbs-up, raving about the vest’s bullet-stopping power and comfort in his report. He’d given the army an enthusiastic endorsement to start using Petrov Armor’s products more broadly. And they had.

“I’m not talking about the armor,” Pembrook replied, her gaze still laser-locked on his, even as agent-at-large Kane Bradshaw slipped into the meeting late and leaned against the doorway. “I’m talking about Jessica Carpenter.” Her voice softened. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

The gazes on him seemed to intensify, but Davis didn’t shift his from Pembrook’s. “Thank you. And no, it won’t affect my judgment in the case.”

Pembrook nodded, but he wasn’t sure if she believed him as she looked back at the rest of the group and continued her briefing. “Petrov Armor won a big contract with the military five years ago. The armor this team was wearing is their latest and greatest. It’s not worn widely yet, but their earlier version armor is commonly used. The military is doing a full round of testing across all their branches. They’ve never had a problem with Petrov Armor before, and they don’t intend to have another.

“Meanwhile, they’ve asked us to investigate at home. We got lucky with the news coverage. We’re still not sure how it was leaked, but not all of it got out. Or if it did, the news station only played a small part. And somehow they don’t have the name of the body armor supplier. Not yet,” she said emphatically. “Rowan, we don’t have to worry about PD this time. I’m putting you on the media. Hendrick can lend computer support if you need it.”

Rowan Cooper nodded, looking a little paler than usual, but sitting straighter.

***

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aGQTOGlXW-c

Purchase links:

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/52610660-secret-investigation

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Secret-Investigation-Tactical-Crime-Division-ebook/dp/B07YLWS343

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/secret-investigation-elizabeth-heiter/1133974152?ean=9781335136459

Google: https://books.google.ca/books/about/Secret_Investigation.html?id=MMqbygEACAAJ&redir_esc=y

IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781335136459

Harlequin.com: https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781335136459_secret-investigation.html

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Publishers Weekly bestselling and award-winning author ELIZABETH HEITER likes her suspense to feature strong heroines, chilling villains, psychological twists and a little romance. Her research has taken her into the minds of serial killers, through murder investigations, and onto the FBI Academy’s shooting range. Her novels have been published in more than a dozen countries and translated into eight languages. Visit her at www.elizabethheiter.com.

Author Q&A – Tactical Crime Division (Intrigue)

Elizabeth Heiter – Secret Investigation

1. The Tactical Crime Division is a specialized unit of the FBI. Did you do any research before writing about this type of fast-paced, high-adrenaline lifestyle?

A: Yes! I love doing research for my books, the more hands-on, the better. I’ve written a number of FBI characters across my different series, so I’ve spent years researching the FBI. That research starts online and with informational books. But the best part is getting to talk to agents, support staff, and specialists within the FBI. I’ve visited the FBI Academy at Quantico, where I got to speak with Special Agents about their cases, go to their shooting range and shoot a variety of weapons their agents and tactical teams use, and tour the facility. I’ve also visited the New York field office, where I got another chance to talk to different specialists. And I was lucky enough to have a Special Agent review my debut book, Hunted, which has given me insight I’ve used across all of my books!

2. The Tactical Crime Division series includes four books written by four different authors; what was it like to collaborate with other authors and how did you decide who got to write each storyline?

A: Although I’ve participated in multi-author anthologies before, I’ve never been part of a multi-author series until now. It was a lot of fun – and a lot less complicated than I expected! Harlequin provided us with an overview of the concept – what the Tactical Crime Division was and their vision for the series. We also received an overview of the team members and some details about our storylines. From there, each of us adjusted and added to the existing material. We shared changes with each other and connected via email or social media with questions or information about characters who appeared in each other’s books. We each fleshed out our own storylines, but there was really no concern about overlap – there are so many possibilities with a team like TCD! Now that the books are written, I’m excited to be able to read all the final versions from the other authors!

3. Can you share a recent book you have read that you would like to recommend?

A: Right now, I’m in the middle of reading Reining in Trouble by Tyler Anne Snell. It’s the first book in her Winding Road Redemption series, about a woman who’s trying to stay isolated to stay safe from threats she’s not willing to talk about, a detective who has his own demons in the form of a childhood kidnapping that was never solved, and an arsonist threatening both of their futures. I’m really enjoying it and plan to grab the next two books as soon as I finish!

#Elizabeth Heiter #Tactical Crime Division2 #HQN #Harlequin Intrigue #FBI #Uncercover

[philipronans]

something tangerines (4/7)

two updates in one day?? watch me disappear for three months

i think it’s time to accept we’re fully on the sirius/james/lily train here and i’d be sorry except i’m not even remotely

part one | part three

.

2013

“How many of these fucking things do we even have to go to?” Sirius grumbles, tugging at the bottom of his shirt and scowling when none of the creases magically vanish. “No fewer than ‘too many’.” Remus says, grinning when Sirius and James groan at him. “Shut up, Lupin. That was bad, and you should feel ashamed. It’s just this one. One more sodding school ball and then we’re home free.” James says, so earnest Sirius wants to believe him. “And then we’re on to the dazzling heights of university summer dos.” James gives him a flat look. “As if we’re going to actually go to those.”

“Well, you might not. I, however, will be living it large in Southbank. My horizons will be broadened and soon I’ll forget all about you bellends.” Sirius sniggers, which ruins whatever effect he might have been able to muster. He plays with his fringe, trying to be subtle as he watches James through his fingers, but fails miserably. James snorts. “As if. You’re not getting rid of me, no matter how hard you try.” “So not very, then.” Peter pipes up from where he’s lounging across the bottom of James’ bed. There’s a magazine in his hands, and how he manages to read upside down will never not boggle James’ mind. “Shut it, Pettigrew.” Sirius says, flustered. “Flustered” for Sirius means his cheeks are very faintly stained pink and he refuses to meet anyone’s eye. “S’not my fault he’s so… James.” “Should I be offended?” James asks, frowning at his reflection when his hair won’t cooperate with him. “Trust me, it’s a compliment.” Sirius mutters. He glances at his phone and sighs at the time. “We’d best get a move on, if we’re going.” “I spent thirty quid on these shoes; I don’t care how miserable we are, we’re going.” Remus says. There’s no room for argument in the way he says it, and the look on his face dares them to try and find one.

“Come on, then.” James says, watching Sirius pull Peter to his feet. The magazine drops onto his duvet, pages creasing as it lands. His parents aren’t home, so they don’t have to worry about being fussed over by his mother. He’s uncharacteristically grateful for that. Not because he wouldn’t secretly enjoy it, but because the look on Sirius’ face as she combed his hair through her fingers would be too much for him to handle. Instead they shove their feet into their shoes and reluctantly bend down to tie their laces. Remus is the only one who doesn’t, his shoes are just slip-on and he smiles smugly at them. James is only… incredibly jealous when his knees crack as he bends down. The walk to the bus stop is quiet. It’s strange, in a way. They’re usually so boisterous and full of life, bouncing off of each other so effortlessly it’s like they’re part of the same person. No matter how it might appear to other people, they can’t actually read each other’s minds, so James can’t speak for the others, but he knows why he’s quiet. And, to a lesser extent, why Sirius is as well. However much they might joke about this being the ‘end’, there is a legitimate fear underlying everything. Year Eleven hadn’t affected them too much because they all knew they were going on to the same Sixth Form. But they’re nearing the end of Year Thirteen now, and this… this is different. Exams are approaching, looming just on the edges of the horizon, and with them the promise of the future. The big, scary, uncertain future where they’re all going to be in different places with different people and different experiences. It’s terrifying. It’s exciting. It’s terrifying. James can’t wait, but at the same time he wants time to stand still forever in this moment where the four of them are happy. Together. He’d been a lonely little boy desperate for a friend, once. Now he has a group of people he loves so fiercely he’s not sure how to handle it. To love so wholly, so completely, is overwhelming. And the fact that in a few short months it’s going to be over is so out of the realm of comprehension James doesn’t know how to begin processing it. This ball, this one final evening where their entire year is together for the last time ever is scary. Once it’s over and the morning brings a new day, school will still go on as usual. They’ll still have classes. Exams. But it won’t be the same. Can’t be. They’ll have waved goodbye to childhood, whether they realise it or not, and James isn’t ready to face that. Neither is Sirius, although he’d never admit it. He’s too stubborn. Too proud. He likes to pretend he doesn’t like the majority of their year group, but he can’t lie to James. James, who sees the way he softens when Bertha and Dorcas sit with him in Psychology, hands clasped under the table as Trelawney rambles on about Zimbardo and the prison experiment. Whatever that means. James’ mind can’t wrap itself around the intricacies of the brain. Which, he realises, is hilariously ironic. He’s seen Sirius deconstruct every wall he’s ever locked himself behind. The thing that scares him more than anything is the fear that when they go their “separate” ways he’ll put them back up again. Sirius perks up slightly when the bus eventually turns up, change jangling in his hand as he pays the driver for his ticket. “I wonder if there’ll be a bar.” He says, as he leads the way up to the second deck. “‘Course there will.” Peter answers, rubbing the back of his hand over his forehead when he reaches the top of the stairs. It’s muggy outside, and the warm June air is affecting all of them. Peter just happens to be unfortunate enough to show it. “The teachers wanna get drunk just as much as we do.” “You make a compelling point.” James says. He lifts his glasses so he can rub at his eyes and huffs out a breath. “Excellent.” Sirius says, clapping his hands together. He’s halfway to the back seat, shoulders hunched so his head isn’t scraping against the ceiling. A painful lesson learnt by all of them over the past few years. Growth spurts are, to put it bluntly, a bitch. “There’s a vodka and coke with my name on it.” “That’s true of every bar in Oxford.” Remus mutters, shooting James a grin when he snorts. “Now, now.” Sirius says, neatly spinning so he can sprawl across the back seat. Peter takes his usual place in the seat in front, back leant against the window with his feet up on the seat cushion. Remus takes the seat opposite, arm wrapped around the back of his chair, left foot tucked under his right thigh. “No need to get snarky with me, old man.” Remus scowls at the nickname. At least, James thinks that’s what he’s scowling at. It’s hard to tell with Remus, sometimes. He’s a scowl-y sort of person. Learning to tell the subtle nuances apart is a skill unto its own, and it’s taken James close to six years to feel anywhere close to having mastered it. James knocks their knees together as he passes. He slips into the space left for him as if it’s where he’s meant to be, as if it’s been waiting for him. His back hits Sirius’ shoulder and he watches Sirius’ hand drop in front of his collar bone. He studies it; the slender wrist tapering into a long palm and longer fingers, one of which is crooked from the time he punched Lucius Malfoy’s face so hard he broke it. Sirius claims it’s worth it, because he also broke Malfoy’s nose. There’s something fascinating about Sirius’ hands, James thinks, reaching so he can play with it. Not that Sirius as a whole isn’t fascinating, because he is, but there’s something about his hands that capture James’ attention. Sirius is anger and bitterness and hard edges. It’s the way he’s always been, and James doesn’t see that changing any time soon, and he doesn’t want it to. But his hands. They’re soft and gentle, quick to take away the hurts of the world, and so eager to help it’s painful to watch Sirius stop himself. “Having fun?” Sirius asks, and there’s a laugh in his throat, painting his words with sunshine. “Not really.” James says, refusing to look at either Remus or Peter. He’s well aware of how pathetic he is, he doesn’t need their knowing smiles as a reminder. “Your finger’s rank, mate.” “Fuck off, I got that defending your honour.” Sirius says without any heat. “Hard to defend what you don’t have.” Peter mutters, smile only growing wider when James glares at him. “I have plenty of honour, thank you very much.” He grumbles. He feels Sirius’ snort against the back of his head, and swats at his leg. “You didn’t have to break Malfoy’s nose, you know.” “Yes I did.” Sirius says. James doesn’t see his decisive nod, but he doesn’t need to. “He’s an arsehole, and what he said to you was disgusting.” “I’m sure he’s learnt his lesson.” James says dryly, mostly because he can’t be bothered to have this argument again. “Even if he didn’t, I did.” Sirius says and James can hear the smile in the way his words gentle around the edges. “Protect your thumbs when you punch people.” “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” Remus says as he shifts his weight around. “You know, for all those fights I get in.” “Please do.” Sirius snorts. “I’ve only got your best interests at heart.” “My arse.” Peter mutters. Sirius is going to answer back, because he’s Sirius and he can’t resist having the last word. But before he can, the bus lurches to a stop and sends them all scrambling to keep their balance. “Shit, this is our stop, lads.” Peter says, barely dodging the swipe Sirius aims at him. “Nice going, lookout.” He grumbles. There isn’t any heat behind it, although he does manage to kick Peter in the shin as they get up. “You’ve lived here your entire life.” Remus points out, placing himself between the two of them when they stand up and start making their way towards the stairs. “If you don’t know which bus stop is the right one maybe you’re not that smart after all.” “I didn’t see you pointing it out either, Mr English-Degree-At-Cambridge.” Sirius complains. It’s such a childish response from someone usually three steps ahead of everyone else that it makes James snort. “Treacherous wanker.” He says. Remus grins at him. “Their course is better than ours.” “Yeah, yeah. You’re off the Christmas card list.” James shoves at his shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him pay attention to where he’s putting his feet. The stairs are steep, and the last thing any of them need is Remus breaking something. The street is thankfully clear when they step onto it; tourist season is at least three weeks away, so the only people they have to worry about are obnoxious students, and exhausted workers having finished their shifts. They say thanks to the surly bus driver, and fall into step as James starts walking. Town is always a mad rush of taxis, buses operating on at least fifteen different routes, and secondary school kids with too much time and not enough to do. By the time they get to Carfax Tower, James is ready and willing to just forget the whole thing and find the nearest pub instead. He doesn’t. They cross the street, Peter narrowly avoiding getting hit by an angry looking taxi driver as he steps up onto the pavement. Remus’ laugh is dangerously close to giggling as he reaches out to pull Peter further into him and away from the road. “Clumsy.” He admonishes, but the way he says it also includes James and the fact he’s now walking backwards so he can watch them. Sirius spins him before he can walk into one of the concrete bollards lining the pavement, and rolls his eyes at the grin he’s given in return. “I was being careful.” James says, voice verging on a whine, just to hear the annoyed huff Sirius lets out. He uses the grip Sirius still has on his shoulder to pull Sirius closer, wrapping both arms around him and resting his head on a bony shoulder. “My hero.” Sirius shoves him, detangling himself so he can walk on ahead, but James catches the smile, can see his shoulders shaking. “Isn’t he a hero, Peter?” He says, loud enough for Sirius to hear, grin still firmly in place. “Undoubtedly.” Peter mutters, voice dry as he straightens the sleeves of his jacket. “Fuck ooooooooooff.” Sirius groans, slowing down so they can catch up with him. He digs his elbow into James’ ribs. “You’re a pain in the arse, you know that?” “So I’m told.” James says cheerfully. In apology, he presses a kiss to Sirius’ temple, fingers brushing against a curled fist in invitation. “It’s a good thing I like you.” Sirius grumbles, taking the hand offered to him without comment. He strokes his fingers over the top of it and James knows he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. “If you were truly angry you’d have buggered off already.” Remus says, digging his phone out of his pocket so he can check the time. “We’d best get a move on; doors open in ten minutes.” “Come on then, boys.” James says, as if they aren’t already on their way there. Peter makes an inelegant noise and shrugs when Remus looks at him. They share a quick smile and raised eyebrows before traipsing after him. The hotel, when they reach it fifteen minutes later, is a fancy looking building three stories high. There’s a thick, plush looking carpet lining the front steps that James is almost afraid to stand on lest he ruin it somehow. There are a few of their classmates loitering around the front door, chatting amongst themselves. “Doors not open yet?” Peter asks as they approach, sharing a friendly smile with Bertha. “Everyone’s already gone in.” She says with a shake of her head. “We’re waiting on Lily and Benjy.” “Want us to wait with you?” Sirius asks, free hand reaching for the inner pocket of his jacket. “You just want a fag.” Dorcas says, mouth curling into a smirk as she steps up behind her girlfriend, arm wrapping around her waist. Sirius shrugs, unrepentant as he pulls a cigarette out and lifts it to his lips. It takes him a few attempts to get his lighter to work, but the inhale he takes is satisfied when he eventually manages. James leans against the wall, eyes scanning the corner opposite them. Remus shifts restlessly beside him and he slides his gaze over to him. “You wanna go in?” He asks. Remus nods, scuffs his foot against the concrete slab of the pavement. “I need a piss.” Peter’s already half way up the stairs by the time Remus even makes the first signals of moving. He shrugs at the look he’s given. “I need a drink.” “We’ll find you.” James promises, as if there’s no question of him staying out here with Sirius. Sirius doesn’t say anything about it, sways further into James’ personal space, giving a pleased grunt when their hips knock together. He takes another drag of his cigarette, careful to blow the smoke away from James. “I’m not going near you smelling like that.” James says, contradicting himself as he lets go of Sirius’ hand so he can wrap his arm around his shoulders instead. “I know.” Sirius murmurs, quirking an eyebrow at him. Dorcas is watching them with the barest traces of an amused smile, her lips curling ever so slightly at the corners. James can see the moment her attention shifts, sees the way her eyes glaze as she looks over his shoulder. “Fucking finally!” She calls as James twists his head to look where she is. Lily’s on the other side of road, dress billowing in the breeze of a passing taxi. It’s a pretty colour, James notes; a deep burgundy that bleeds into purple in the dying sunlight. “Got stuck in traffic!” Lily answers, holding up the hem of her dress as she jogs across the street. Benjy trails behind her, not in any hurry as he waits for a car to drive past before stepping off the curb. “Bus driver was a wanker.” Is the first thing that Benjy says, edging past James so he can greet Dorcas with a wet kiss to the cheek. The thing James has learnt about Benjy over the past eleven or so years is that it’s honestly best not to ask. So he doesn’t. Instead he turns to Lily, gives her a smile, and says “You clean up alright, Evans.” “Oh, shut up.” She laughs, stepping into him so she can give him a hug. “You alright?” Sirius straightens up, drops the butt of his cigarette on the ground and steps forward. “He’s a pain.” “Isn’t he always?” Lily asks, grinning as Sirius tugs her into a hug of his own. “I’m standing right here.” James complains, staunchly ignoring the fact that Bertha, Dorcas, and Benjy are all laughing at him. “That’s what makes it fun.” Lily promises, eyes amused. She frees herself from Sirius’ arms, but sticks close, and tilts her head at them. “Are we going in, or did you want to stand out here all night?” James pulls a face at her. It morphs into a gentle smile when he feels Sirius’ hand slip into his again, and not even the unamused look Sirius is giving him is enough to diminish it. He offers Lily his other arm, and together the three of them make their way towards the front door.

#jily #prongsfoot #jilypad #fyjamesandlily #gxldentrio #something tangerines #ot3: we were inevitable #hp fanfic #vic writes

[lookwhosfhtagn]

THE ADVENTURES OF ARGUS ARMSTRONGMAN - LONE STAR DETECTIVE

Case 637435: Attempted Murder, Breach of Trucking Contract, Breaking and Entering, Assault, Gross Sexual Misconduct, Trespassing, Unlicensed Gang Warfare, Unauthorized Corporate Espionage, Second Degree Murder

It had been years since I had left the metropolitan area of Indianapolis, but the flat expanse of Illinois was exactly as I remembered it: a monotonous grid of monstrous corporate soy megafarms, attended by a fleet of hovering drones and massive lumbering combines. The floating disks darted like dragonflies over the fields, spraying nutrients and pesticides on some sections while the gargantuan combines lumbered about, harvested the bounty of the fields. This prolonged modern agraria played out to the soundtrack of wind whipping over the open top of the Saab Dynamit that Catrina Noire had procured for our trip. Its smooth curves and gleaming yellow composite body were equal parts work of art and engineering marvel. The feeling of my hands on the steering wheel was the closest thing I’d ever felt to unconditional love. In my mind, I was already naming it Tracy.

My silent adoration of the chariot bearing us forward to Dak Rambo was interrupted when Catrina cleared her throat. “What is it?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the tediously straight roads.

“Listen, Detective. I know you’re not a fan of the League’s plan.” She paused, trying to think of her next words carefully. “But with Dak and his NeoScum crew having left Chicago, we really need a lead.”

“We have a lead,” I corrected her. “This Tech Wizard character has a relative nearby in Peoria. And not just a relative: a grandmother.” My eyes left the road for a second to connect with hers, hoping to impress upon her some fraction of my surety in this theory. “From all my research, Tech Wizard loves the old dame. Loves her bad enough he wouldn’t skip the area without saying goodbye first.”

Catrina sighed, her ears flicking in frustration. Or maybe it was just the wind of the road. Being a Changeling with feline traits, she didn’t have normal human ears. The large triangles of fur on top of her head weren’t just for show. “Fine, so maybe they did go to visit the wizard’s grandmother. Do you honestly believe they will still be there?”

“No,” I said, my tone sinking slightly. “But it could give us a trajectory to follow.”

“Alternately, we could just use the data we got from Cognitia.” Catrina’s voice was confident and slow, with just a hint of exasperation. It was almost like she was talking to a child. “We could slot Beans in right now. He knows Dak. He could give us information and help us figure out not just where the NeoScum have been but where they will be.”

My gut sank like it was full of stones. “You’re not the least bit creeped out by that? Taking a person’s memories, turning them into data, and having them live on after him?”

The feline fatale paused, the overcast afternoon of the Illinois plains only barely highlighting her dark skin and rounded cheeks. “No. Beans is dead. The only reason these memories exist at all is because he was afraid of a hereditary neurological disease among dwarves.” She adjusted the Matrix sunglasses that would have cost me a month’s salary and looked at me with those narrow slit-eyes. “These are here for us to use. That is that.”

“I’ll be honest, I was hoping for a little bit more nuanced discussion of the situations.” My frustration at her curt answer caused my foot to press down on the accelerator.

“You’re not in Indianapolis anymore, Detective. I think it’s time you give up on idealistic notions and focus on what really matters: results.” And with that, she produced the old data stick and slotted it into the dashboard console without a second thought.

“Wait, I-”

But it was too late. Whatever programs were on the stick executed and a thick brogue poured out over the car’s speaker system.  “Ack, that one hurts like a bastard! Never goin’ to get used to that-” He paused. “Wait a minute. What’s goin’ on? I can’t see! Sweet Merciful Satan, my eyes!”

“Beans?” I asked, not really sure how to address the disembodied consciousness. “Beans, calm down. My name is Detective Argus Armstrongman. I’m with Lone Star Security and-”

His voice became more and more panicked with each second. “This was Rambo, wasn’t it? How did he find out about the job? Waitin’ until I was in here, getting’ my brain scanned to finish me off? What kind of cowardly, spineless, no good-”

Ms. Noire chimed in in an assertive voice. “Computer, mute process Beans.” And with that, Beans was silent. “Now then, if you are done losing your mind, I have some information for you. Beans, you are dead. Dak Rambo shot you in cold blood in Chicago and fled the city. We want you to help us track him.” The air hung heavy for a moment, then she laughed to herself. “Oh, sorry, I forgot I muted you. Computer, unmute process Beans.”

The speaker erupted in a volcanic pyroclast of pure vitriolic hatred. Profanity and threats the likes of which I had never heard spilled out in a devastating landslide, making me grip the steering wheel tighter. But Catrina just sat there, that confident smirk on her face. She lived for this: the feeling of power over others.

“-and then I’ll make you sit on the shards while I piss in your dad’s beard!” Beans finally relented, his inorganic virtual lungs expended of the fictional resource he knew as air.

Catrina gave a soft cluck of her tongue. “That is not way to speak to your new partners, Beans. If not for us, you would just be a corpse in a morgue, being harvested for organs. Now? You’re at least a mind. A mind who I have no doubt would love to go home to his family someday, yes?”

“Listen, you daft cat. I don’t know where Dak is. I don’t even know that Dak killed me!”

“But you know him. I’ve worked with him. I bet you have some ideas where he might have scurried off to.” The feline purred softly. “If you help us catch him, we’ll see about getting you a proper mechanical body and sending you back home.”

Even though he wasn’t real, I could hear the hitch in Beans’ voice. “I can’t help you, damn it. So just send me home. Let me see my wife. Let me see my family!”

I turned to cat, shooting her a glare. “This isn’t working. He’s not going to help us.”

The expression I saw on that woman’s face chilled my blood to pure ice. It was equal measures fury and desperation, shaken and served on the rocks. “I’ll let you go if you can answer me one simple question.” The predator hunched forward in the car’s passenger seat, looking into the nonexistent eye of the console. “What is your full name, Beans?”

The simulacra of the dead dwarf’s memory laughed softly. “Really? My name? My name is Beans-”.

Before he could finish, Ms. Noire cut him off. “Computer, erase object Beans dot name dot middle dash last.”

Beans hung right there, a forgotten syllable hanging on the air. He choked out an attempt to push on, but faltered. “My name…my name is Beans…Beans…”

I’ve never heard a computer cry before. I’ve heard artificial beings mimic the depths of despair on trideo feeds, but it was always passed through the filter that is the Matrix. Everything and everyone comes out a shallow copy when it’s passed through the digital feed. But those deep, shuddering sobs blaring out over the speakers were so deep and painful, I felt my gut turn as I yanked the memory stick out and slammed on the brakes, sending up screeching down that Illinois highway until we stopped on the side.

“What the fuck was that?” I blurted out, clutching the memory stick tightly. My knuckles were white. “What kind of absolute drek was that?”

Her shades hid her eyes, but her body language said I had surprised her. The claw marks in the armrest didn’t do her any favors. “I am getting results, Detective.”

“You are torturing someone!”

“I am altering a program which fails to cooperate.” Her ear ticked anxiously. “That is not Beans. It’s a ghost.”

“Even if it is just a ghost, how about a little respect for the dead?” I took the stick and put it in the pocket of my Lone Star issued windbreaker. “I am going to hold on to this. We are going to cool down and try again when we get to Peoria.”

“Listen-”

“No, you listen.” My normally cool demeanor was melting rapidly. My hands fumbled for my vape but couldn’t find it. “You said you need my help. Well you’re not getting it unless you stop with this whole routine. Good cop, bad cop only works if you’re a cop.”

Catrina was about to speak out, but her mouth hung open. She looked out, unbuckling her seatbelt and rising up out of the body of the vehicle to survey the horizon. “Argus…” She trailed off, dumbstruck.

My head turned and I saw the carnage ahead of us: a city ablaze, the flickering lights and billowing smoke testaments to the conflict ahead. And directly in front of us on the roadside was a large black LCD screen with scrolling green letters spelling “WELCOME TO PEORIA”.

<- PREVIOUS NEXT ->

#NeoScum #argus #fan fiction #shadowrun #one shot

[luvcolorhuikj]

Love is the thing with colors

by Hui Kj

PROLOGUE

Queen Lau ruled the women of District Orange with grace and youth. She birthed the princess of the white void to be hidden in normalities, vastly unknown by the mass women, but simply as Au - keeper of the library, ergo the centerpiece of the hallways and the religion of D.O. There was no war in the white void, and no collisions with what differed - there were only women and there was only knowledge of peace - although, Queen Lau was the daughter of the goddess Eve; the idealization of purity and individuality.

Eve fled the desert with her daughter Lau and walked into the light of the sky to be seen no longer by animals or the soon leaders of threatening places. To be of nature in single and to clone flesh and processes infinitely and with ease. Everyone - white, straight hair - pale orange eyes, and a hidden language parallel with the opposite void that was not found or learned - but birthed into Au with a sibling vessel. She had a pressing mischief that made her vastly different than her mother and the girls in her academy. This language is doom to resolution yet a centerpiece of creation for the time, and her mind has not been centered with tongue; ergo she stutters and the vowel sounds are twisted and prolonged. All the other women spoke a simple language of gentleness with no new concepts - but repetition and contentment.

The princess of D.O., although treated as a regularity and thought of herself as an average white, hallway student - with a special library privilege in time and having the distribution process as her job, and was keenly interested in language and voids in general right from her birth. The Queen immediately took action and cut her off browsing complexities.

Au could not have a roommate, could not have a friend. The only dialogue she maintained in was the library distribution check-outs, and the occasionally meeting with her mother - but Au, in the unknown of her family line - always thought she was in trouble with Queen Lau because she was the curious type - and she knew about some of the books that were in restricted cases in some orange storage room. This was mostly labeled and disguised as fiction written by The Queen - and not even the disciples or managers of the Orange District knew such things as differences.

Au glossed over concepts of daughters and sons, animals portrayed as werewolves, time management, weapons, plants, cloning processes, and of course - very vaguely and without literal depiction - colors. She learned of Eve and the garden, the Queen’s devotion to a God, and a great deal of lies hidden to keep everyone in the white void at ease. She sat in the back of classes when she wasn’t in the library - the bell alerts in the white hallways, and a vastness of rooms with white charging systems to maintain a peaceful aura.

Queen Lau had a yearning desire to keep Au out of the orange storage room - but she knew the princess would become more powerful than her. She didn’t need classes - she need not help anyone but herself. The Queen started tracking her essays on cooperations and she had a certain flow yet unsteadiness - ergo Cablasay soon to burst out of her, and she saved little paragraphs stolen from when she snuck in, until barriers were put up to stand private.

For Au, the hardship began - new filing techniques, discussions with head disciples - even though they could barely note the vibrant and chaotic diction spoken by the princess - more isolation from fellow academy girls, realizing royalty, and the study of a powerful God. There is another void. . .

-

The void of black was without comfort and deliberately evacuated from everything that is peaceful. There was no happiness, but only paranoia of foreign affairs. God cursed the male race and were left with turmoil and violence to be all reaction as the option till further notice. There is training, aiming to the falsities of possible intruders - domination and utter rampage if challenged. They did not know the kindness of light, and the easiness of gentle customs. They were not at war but were in treacherous, evil boredom, and violence was the task at hand to devote victory in every aspect claiming that duty and war was the skill to develop.

Yet, there was a boy: B, who was mathematically gifted and could foresee weakness in the cooperations in play from a dozen points of view. He was to preserve the boys of the academy and watch with alertness; whether they were a disorientation to the masses or if they were merely out of line in any case. The prince, B without knowing his royalty, is the security outline for all of District Black, and he kept a close eye through his technology habitat in the upper, surveillance room. Communication politics was at the utmost importance. The eyes of B was to examine progress by the students and to watch there movements all the way into their bedrooms - tracking anything abnormal, ranking skills, upgrading weapons, and times and placements relevant to scheduled drills.

His task got tiresome and B would surf the system seeking further education with histories. The grey bars of info, but the Ltn. above his shoulders - he learned an isolating unity of freedom when discovering anger was a demonic cycling, bringing the void nowhere near real progress - he wanted to be heard and seen as something not violent but pressing on the matter of intellectual appliances. Cablasay came to B; pure - hoping mindset of something else that could give him the idea of exploration and nuance of newness. The grey screens showing the placements of the academy boys, and the hallways - B typed programs, as a journal, in this language that was only recognizable by him.

The Ltn. found this data and had him briefed with the generals of the black void - pressing on the ideas of abstraction to not be taken seriously but the training and idealization of domination that was described as completely necessary. Little did they know, something was coming, and B was getting closer to the more than true story that would end this race.

Young B was lonely in the security room at this point - no friends and no new satisfactions; similarly opening and closing doors behind backs and shoulders everyday, marking actions, and making sure no one was out of line, which now he sees as the solution that is completely necessary. He kept his thoughts in his mind. Is there anyone else out there?

!!,//]->,`010011\-,/‘!! - (ZHUM) -

1. Kerna Serna ! CODE BLUE ! CODE BLUE ! ‘Go now Au - through that door - the path, through the door! Go on! Go on!’

2. ‘Go B! Go! To the door! We have failed you; you go now! You will meet her there! With heart!’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the royals made there way to the opus of exits, and to leave their home voids - the doors to be opened in the first time in a trillion years apart from the makers at the exact point of their creation - by God himself. God has snapped his finger and the voids have caved in and vanished. The only survivors: the spell broken, separation no longer. The hidden language, now to be explored and used in unity.

-

Criss cross, infinity landscape - eye to eye - yin yang - good - two doors, closed - silence - sky is open - love closing in - the affairs and mischief gone - they do a dance with their eyes - shed a tear or two - new animals - touch - lay down - blue sky - blue blood touching with skin cooling together then warming - some time - in forever - now, a boy: Kezay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whoah there, Life slave to powerful Time Travel blue eyes to the ceiling bed thoughts modern importance I get up morning injection resurrection for redirection the sky went numb inspiration at the dose vision exploration looking out the window vhuht ihez ghowienfg ahowen rose and sunflower configuration in my veins dreams I have dwell on some spectacle that I can not recall but very much breathing in my brain at nights alone with the light shining in some lamp post some attic breathing in shadows I don’t go up there but know the depths are worth as much as I pour into I don’t have pictures of my family or anything but love memorial words e whuihp zhum fhuorehvfeur where do I come from all alone in treacherous misconceptions the self indulgence is to seek something like stems on fire or a lake at a park the parks spark a dark part which I do so indulge in take me with you I want to know about this darkness and the light that reflects maybe the clouds take form and spell my name Kezay like a dream come true maybe the blue ——- And I wake up to the four houses gone now around me in a quick vanish as the sun a centimeter peeked and am trapped in a small room in the desert with only a tall tree in front. Why is my identity racing the evil I once possessed? Absolute Zero, again….

CHAPTER 1 - Think Yellow

Flutter fog-blur, and summer rain is halloween. Being that two sets of eyes peer and observe me (paranoia)_, that I can feel behind my shoulder at this moment, and they are not in control. The side-side pan grey flutter, go ‘waywayway from my window, and bother me no more while I am here in this desert. As long as the two birds sing, I did my best. The reel bought new of this year 1985 via operator and an entertainment for an empathizer viewer in a theatre, me a subject in the kitchen now. The sun shines.

It is a 24 period cycle, but o0o0o0 it is some dog collar, repath english. Row F5, the only one there besides a man up-top reading a newspaper in the control room. They are both at my suspicion and it is only a blur-pan that I pretend not to see, and it thumps vibrations in the kitchen or outside my house that I bet is their breathe or sighs - the Host Company is unknown, a random showcase to me, and they are not my creator, and control is unkown. The cycle is a relevant thought because there is recollections of the end of the world when awakened by my clock with a new scenery and nothing remembered. Two cats jump up onto the counter while I slice fruits and stare out into the infinite desert with the one tree that is quite lively but no gust, there are only a red and blue bird on the branches and something growing.

The visual sensation came from nowhere (yellow, growing object); must of been an angel that knew my dreams. *ZAP* Okay strawberry and banana smoothie. It’s not a family. It’s not a best friend. It’s a technician and a person at stand-by: two strangers with a disturbing gaze on me and my surroundings, a curiosity both ways. My two cats see without speculation, and are frantic.

Starvation creeps in and the yellow balloon came to my life and it asked how I like my steak (??) - the telepathy power mustered, ‘Well doc, not a rare education!’ And the wind picked up and there’s not transportation, I am locked in this house and am only with a window view. I go for my fix with my eyes, and the balloon untied to the tree breathed and I whispered to follow up: ‘anti christ?’ The balloon shrunk, out of sight, up the sky, and to the sun - and there was no answer. The boy speaks tragedy, ‘Give it time, fool…’ and the wind suddenly stopped and I drank my smoothie. No food, just smoothies every 00:45 after a new balloon appears attached to the branch randomly and always leaves off and away, than the smoothie all over again.

If I keep track of the balloons it eases my mind. As I gasp from the powerful life in my body, I am grateful - and here appears another yellow balloon, number 2 with the sun-hiss-roar congruent and white hairs on my head now derived. Curiouser as it goes, I feel powerless like my world is only hopeful when gazing outside the window, and as I stand up to go to the door: it is locked and I let my head hit the door with a all-natural dose of humbleness. The tree is actually quite beautiful and what a blessing it is. There is no memory of the second society collapsed for me and I was left inside to hide or I guess to wait and die. Two new birds fly onto the tree, and the sun starts to travel downward some and the color I found love and hope in was going away.

The birds make sounds. And the room stays the same, the day closing - this cycle is of minimal function and the breathes from the Outside of the huge desert bubble diminishes and the fluttering is left to one: the lady steps out of the theatre - and the man has had feet kicked up but now moving around - the theatre hit a time mark and I heard rattling; as the darkness overtook the night, the theatre is vacant, and I was left alone in a pitch black mass, and I am lonely which seems to be the idea - taking one last sip.

The cats are on the couch playing. I start muttering in a tongue - this is new, and now feel like there will be a rain storm or the tree would fall; the birds left now, but as I spoke to the ceiling there were withdrawals and I imagined being held by a figure that sort of looked like me. Then there was a knock at my door, and this time - in disbelief - there was a fresh envelope in the dark outside that slid under the door to be read right then and there on the spot - my legs frozen and hardly a breathe at all.

It read,

‘Perfect shoes for the job, perfect attire for the job, perfect but very much wished for tragedies in my repertoire, and all i want is to stop. all i want is to stop everything, to be alone. And if it all freezes i want the rainfall to keep going, and i want the people to keep moving. as you have noticed by moving, there are so many things. what will you stick in your pocket? It’s amazing right there, and breathtaking here. . .isn’t it? It is!!! And things are all right? no... right? Little experiments can get really needy, every little thing can insist on it being endlessly valuable. And no matter how terrible that is - what you somehow go back to - you can still look at it, anytime you go back.

And why would that thing ever tell you to look away when its only making it feel pretty?’

It started to rain, or is it God crying? Here we go….

Teheaih izoihlayzshun wieilhl naihet keiaill mehiegh

,//]->,`010011\-,/‘ (ZHUM)

CHAPTER 2 - Think Brown

I asked myself about schedule. ‘Yes, Thursday should work perfectly - see ya then. Thanks for today.’ She took her hand to my hair, brushed her lips on my face, and when she drifted down, away from our eye-contact, into the subway tunnel, we were both smiling. I was of a dream that destiny allowed me to weave thru.

Thru the crowds, how could I not feel this universe for me for now finally connected? If my beliefs are challenged than I latch onto nothing, find a path thru the people relevant to progress but with personal options allowed to resurface in a millisecond in a mode that is not against any direction at all but absolutely still in point A, and the millisecond steady with my surroundings accepted just as they are. I feel light, giddy, and open. If here comes a clown: oh, here comes a clown now on the sidewalk - messy hair, colorful rainbow clothes. You and happiness, me and happiness: the car lights as circus, and the 2007 world, the technology for memory // Goodbye now active, group wonder! I knew you were not evil. Do I fear evil? The parade of stardust souls are a productive circle: okay! As I make my way indoors at my apartment, my blackberry vibrates: ’I’ll see you Thursday. Coffee? - Ash.’

-

Incoming, surprising and unsettling set back that will require some learning; bad dream with a dark and unpleasant, morning outcome. My cat woke me on the floor, with terror sweats and yet a random craving to smell any and all flowers. The tv was buzzing an argument from a terrifying soap-opera scene with yelling and violence. I flipped it off and fell back to the floor with my hands reaching up to the sky due to the feeling of being pushed, pulled, and torn away from self control, ergo exhaustion from a long night of a troublesome amount of voodoo demons entering my brain and now causing me a great deal of anxiety and stress: I walk to the bathroom for a shower. Man, now my reality has been shaken.

I could not bring myself to look in the mirror, no doubt I was pale and deranged but the haunting shapes of body or objects is just too overwhelming now - the shower is running and the tile is cool so I let my body collapse to the floor once more. My shadow is lost from the light but paranoia touches my shoulders for a moment and shivers run around so much. My cat’s paw is reaching underneath the door crack, and then I get up and put my head underneath the water. What if all that blooms molded, struck dead?

My best friend Malcom used to say, ‘Kezay, you do not have to start a fire to burn your toast.’ And if we were to feed ducks he would try to swim. My life is a witness to flowers, and they are vibrant with power - beauty is not luck, it is everything and in everything for a reason to catch you when you fall. The friends I have and the people that have cleared my gloomy days with sunshine, just being who they are, is how glee maneuvers into a soul to be changed and different forever. I use to hang out at his neighborhood fountain park; taking pictures and all. When we got high and he was there too: he kissed me on the lips. Wuiehit iaein teuieh whrorieild?

If anything, the evil one is me. All wonder is there and here, but they mold together making them very bizarre and unrecognizable. My family is across the country, my old friends have new paths, and I am here almost crying, now crying in an overwhelmed body and mind. Maybe the world is waiting for me to make the spectacle, or being free is just freeing yourself - standing up with a goal in mind. Thoughts are glowing different shades, and matching them or latching onto them is essential - and it is just situational. I know love can happen.

The television is roaring laughter, and I was my face in the bathroom while the toast is doing so in the kitchen. I jot down in a notebook: ‘2007 Boston Circus: Prealien Spree, Opening night.’  I could love myself: the clown, clown, clown, clown….chaotic colors and terrifying confusion, but I know I am paranoid. God, smite these demons - show me genuine goodness and part the abstractions into a manageable design. I look in the mirror and my telephone rings. Maybe I will never be understood, but I know there is good. ‘Hello.’ And that is when I realized I would not fear the coffee scenario wearing a plain, colorless shirt and I would embrace the vibrations of the world and of my friend Ashely, regardless if the world was ending in a terrifying way - I have faith.

She wore orange and smelled like flowers: connected once again; love is the thing with colors - from nothing to something, from terror to optimistic spectrum.

E Whuiehp, e whuiehp.

,//]->,`010011\-,/‘ (ZHUM)

CHAPTER 3 - Think Blue

Outside the church in the year 1904, I am a woman - not a woman - a woman, or I love a woman. Her baby stopped his crying, now in my arms while the choir sings inside, ‘Glory to God! Glory to God!’

We sit under the one tall tree on the side of the building that is all on a small hill - looking out to infinite land and the openness is breathtaking and peaceful. The babe lays on his back and points up: a cat stuck in a tree, purring; not frightened. The baby makes a soft sound, and God speaks and reminds me how I have disregarded the lion. The Lord says, ‘Feiehgeur teieh paeeiuhteh, goeiuhdhn!’ I look out and up to the vastness of the sky, and I could talk back.

She was unfaithful with our bond years and years ago, and we are back together, now with her son outside to calm the crying away from distracting the ongoing service inside the church - but the baby still staring up at the cat, calm. The man I want to be keeps patience and empathy close - my selfishness will not infect anything anymore and I will be grateful. Pressure arises in our universe and life may be troublesome, but I somehow feel hopefulness in the air. Thank you Lord.

I whisper to the sky: zhum, zhum, zhum, zhum.

I hear: zhum.

,//]->,`010011\-,/‘ (RE: VOID) code 645372 (love, rainbow)

fin

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