#a single hair/twist out of place is peak character design

[voltaical-art]

some warmups from the other day, thinking abt these 2

#wyll ravengard #bg3 ansur #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #more thoughts on them later hopefully #also i think im gonna start drawing wylls hair like this more idk i just felt like changing it #a single hair/twist out of place is peak character design

[citiesalight-writes]

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Characters: Observants, Clockwork

Rating: T

Relationships: Dark Ages (Clockwork x Pariah Dark)  

Tags & Warnings: Manipulation, Implied Mind Control

Summary: Human courtship was such an odd thing, the gifting of a metal band signifying devotion, commitment, and love. How the ritual came to be, the Observants did not care. There was, however, a ghost that showed interest in the custom, infantile though it was. Clockwork, Master of Time and eternal pain in the Observants' side. Why the King showed interest him, the Order couldn't fathom. It did, however, present an opportunity. 

Or

In which the Observants scheme, and a ring is gifted.

Written for Going Angst Week 2021 

Day 4: Corruption

Big thanks to the Dark Ages Discord Server for coming up with the idea behind this fic

---

“Lord Clockwork, if I may have a moment of your time.” The wretched creature turned to look at them, confusion and apprehension clear on their face. His hair was in a simple plait, no doubt the work of their great King. How his Majesty could stand the presence of such an insufferable, conniving ghost, the Order would never understand.

They watched as the time ghost schooled his expression into one of indifference, an eyebrow quirked upwards. “I didn’t realize those in the Order were capable of traveling alone. To what do I owe the pleasure, oh single Observant?”

Internally, they were seething. How dare this vile thing speak to them in such a way. If they had not seduced their King, he would be bowing to them, begging for forgiveness for their miserable existence. But they did not let their irritation show. It was a well known fact the miscreant was wary of the Observants, in part due to them not having expressions he could easily read, so they had removed their cape and loosened their robe beforehand, doing their best to exaggerate their body language: ghostly tail flowing rhythmically, shoulders relaxed, arms swaying at their side. All in an effort to lull the temperamental ghost before them into a false sense of security. Even if it does violate dozens of rules within the Order and makes their skin crawl to do so; they had been given permission so as to complete their great task.

“Lord Clockwork, I heard that you were looking for a gift for our great King— ” they watched as a fond smile wormed its way onto Clockwork’s face at the mention of King Pariah, shoulders relaxing as he brought a hand up to stroke their braid, “and I believe I may have found a suitable present.” They bobbed their head in false excitement, hushed voice growing louder as they spoke.

Suspicion still clear on his face, Clockwork nodded their head and watched as they rummaged in their sleeve a bit before pulling out a small box, already talking as they presented it to them. “I’ve heard word of the stories you tell of the humans, Lord Clockwork. Many of us have, although the others would not admit to being curious about the tales you hold. But one of them stuck with me.” They opened the lid, watching as Clockwork moved to get a closer look, wonder in his eyes. They were too easy to read. “The way humans show affection for another by gifting a ring.”

They watched as he carefully lifted the box from their hand as if afraid it might bite them. When it did not, they pulled the ring from its slot and inspected it in the light, rotating it around to admire the craftsmanship. The words Yours for Eternity were engraved around the band, and they watched as a serene smile pulled at his lips.

By the Order, it took every ounce of control not to narrow their eye in glee, watching as the magic from the ring drained them of their suspicion, as was its design. No wearer of the ring would question the Observants, allowing them to do as they pleased, loyalty growing the longer it was worn and harder to break if removed. The magic being infused with the metal prevented its detection, so all Clockwork saw was a ring of pure silver.

They kept talking, trying to expel the excess energy they received as the weight of their duty lifted from their shoulders, watching the plan become one step closer to completion. “I found the concept to be alien yet intriguing—truly it is my favorite story I’ve heard told—and when I came across this, I thought it must be fate. And, well, I didn’t want to be presumptuous, my Lord, but I thought you might appreciate my findings. I came across a talented metalworker in my travels across the zone; their specialty was infusing a calming aura into their works.”

Clockwork sent them a look, suspicion growing once again. How stupid could they be to let that slip? The menace cared for the King in their own twisted way, their protectiveness of him nearly enough to warrant calling it a secondary Obsession. Of course he would become unsettled knowing the ring was magic.

“Does it now? And for what reason did you decide to choose this ring?” Pull it back a bit, they could do this. They were chosen for their cunning and conniving nature after all, almost on par with Clockwork themself.

Fiddling with their hands, they looked down to avoid eye contact, voice hushed once more. “Word has it the King has been stressed, my Lord. I wanted to help him, our Great Uniter, in any way I could. Even if it involved a bit of magic, although I had no intention of deceiving you or our King.” They peaked up at him, watching his reaction. They seemed to debate the lie, placing the ring back into the box and clicking the lid shut.

“Thank you for your honesty; such a rare trait in Observants these days. I take it knowledge of the spell diminishes its effects?”

“Yes, my Lord, but not by much.” The stupid thing would be worthless if that were the case. What was the point of controlling someone if the spell could be so easily broken?

“Very well. Now, I must take my leave before King Pariah comes searching for me. Wouldn’t want you to be caught breaking the rules of the Order, now would we?” Clockwork winked at them, and they forced a giggle as Clockwork continued on their way, the box held firmly in their grasp.

“Thank you, my Lord,” they called out after them, this time no lie to be found in their statement. With a final wave, they turned around and dashed back to their superiors, intent on telling them of their success. And if they moved faster than the rules allowed, well, what was one more broken rule?

The next time they saw their great King, in all his regal glory, the snake was at his side and a silver ring around his finger.

In the light it shone black

#Going Angst Week 2021 #Danny Phantom #Clockwork #The Observants #Phanfic #My writing

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: Feelings To Write About

Author: @magioftheseas

For: @spaghetti4u

Pairings/Characters: KomaHina + mentioned KamuKoma

Rating/Warnings: G

Prompt: “Hinata or someone else trying to encourage Komaeda into doing something funny to spend the time (going to the beach, playing some game or anything really!)” + “Sharing a bed”

Author’s notes: It’s a pretty lowkey fic, and I ended up having them talk about the WoH because I have fluffy feelings when it comes to them. Cakeland is obviously based off Candyland which I have a lot of nostalgia for. I hope it’s cutesy enough for you!

The weather on Jabberwock wasn’t the perfect, eternal sunshine it had been in the simulation. There were storms and quite harsh ones at that. Hence why when him and Komaeda got caught up in one, he brought Komaeda with him to the hotel for studier shelter rather than just relying on one of their cottages. It was one of those weeks where the others were out trying to fix other parts of the world or meeting with the other sections of the Future Foundation, so the hotel was as vast as it was vacant. Hinata doesn’t try to think about how this scenario is like a million haunted movies and games—he especially doesn’t want to think about games—and instead, he focuses on drying Komaeda’s hair off with several towels.

Komaeda is docile when being fussed over, but he’s still shaking like a leaf. Hinata wraps him in some blankets for good measure, trying to keep a straight face when Komaeda sneezes.

“If we get enough blankets and pillows, this won’t be too bad a place to sleep for the night,” he says, tearing open a tissue packet pulled from Komaeda’s pocket for the other to blow his nose on. Hinata does flash him a smile, playing idly with the wet but still springy curls on his boyfriend’s head. “Do you need anything else to make yourself comfortable?”

“Mm.” A noncommittal hum and a meek shrug. Komaeda’s been in a low mood all day and the storm hadn’t seemed to help measures. Hinata tries to retain a reassuring smile as he tucks silvery strands behind the other’s ear. “It doesn’t really matter.”

I wouldn’t ask if that were true. Hinata bites his tongue. You know I would’ve just decided what to do without you. You probably wouldn’t even care in this state.

“There might be board games,” he found himself saying. “How about we play something to pass the time? You like Go, right?”

Komaeda shrugs again, as if he didn’t carry around go jars all throughout high school and even had them stored in his cottage at that exact moment. Hinata can only sigh and go along with Komaeda’s unstated hesitance.

“Maybe something new,” he said as we went to the closet where the board games were stored. “Variety is the spice of life.”

Komaeda sneezes behind him and makes no further comments. Fine. That’s fine. Hinata should just focus on deciding—or just grab the first thing that catches his eye and settle with that. Which is what he does. Either the dormant Kamukura Izuru’s kicking him in the mental balls right now or Komaeda’s momentary apathy is contagious.

He could figure out which if he thought about it. He elects not to think as to conserve energy. This is how he lives his life now.

Although the board game he grabbed is—not really to his or to Komaeda’s tastes. He still commits and takes it with him before setting it in front of Komaeda. Komaeda does look at the cover, his mouth twitching.

“Cakeland,” Hinata read aloud. “For ages 4 and up. If I didn’t know any better I’d say this is Usami’s doing.”

“Oh, I’ve seen it before,” Komaeda said, soft and low. “Utsugi-san was fond of it. She always forced me to be Donatsuo. She hated that character most.”

Even without a genius brain, Hinata can tell who that is. The donuts-themed boy with short choppy hair and absurdly large, caramel-colored eyes.

“This was Utsugi-san’s character of choice,” Komaeda recalled, tapping his finger against a happy girl in pink. “Ichigo-hime.”

“So,” Hinata said, trying to keep his tone neutral. “Was this game any good?”

“It’s not very complicated because it’s for kids, ages four and up,” was Komaeda’s dull response.

“We’re not kids but we’re older than four, so we should be fine.”

With all that said, it looked like they were playing Cakeland. Hinata sets up the board—which is even kitschier in design than the box and he picks the character that looked the most normal-ish save for a strange hairstyle—identified by Komaeda as the Baron Maron. Komaeda does look between them and muffle a small snort, and Hinata doesn’t care to ask.

Komaeda picks Donatsuo, although he very lovingly places other pieces aside. Ichigo-hime and a few others who mysteriously had similar color schemes to those troubled kids he babysat all that time ago. As Servant. In Towa. After Enoshima Junko died but they were still all in despair.

That he can even have fond memories at all—

Hinata feels his throat burn with questions, but swallows back and just rolls the dice.

“We’re just both going to get six,” Komaeda said. “What to do?”

Hinata doesn’t say that he could probably get any roll he so wanted, so he just grumbles.

“I’ll go first because it’s in my name. Sound enough logic?”

Komaeda giggled warmly. It strikes a soft chord within him, and his heart may or may not do a flip in appreciation of such a sound.

“Whatever,” Hinata says, drawing a card. “What’s important are these, anyway. Wow, I drew you.” He does flash the card, showcasing Donatsuo with a dorky grin and dual peace signs. “Guess that means I go to your character space. It’s the first one on the map though so it’s not that far ahead.”

“It’s good luck to get that at the beginning of the game but bad luck to get that at the end,” Komaeda said, drawing his own card. He just gets a plain color so he only moves ahead four spaces. “Since your luck is better than mine, I wonder if this is even a fair game…”

“Your luck is still formidable,” Hinata pointed out as he drew. It was green. That was five spaces. “I’d say it breaks to about even.”

“Oh, no,” Komaeda breathed, shaking his head. “No, that’s wrong. Comparing my luck to yours is like comparing a gnat to a swan because both can fly.”

“It’s not…” Hinata sputtered a bit, unsure of what the hell to make of that. “What does that even mean? Komaeda, your—your luck’s on a whole other level. You should know that more than anyone.”

Komaeda just draws. He still hasn’t selected a special card. Hinata ends up drawing the next one, a strange angelic figure named Enjunji, who he just didn’t get good vibes from.

“Kemuri-kun’s favorite,” Komaeda said quietly and Hinata moved further ahead. It was the closest character space in reality, so it still wasn’t impressive.

I have a feeling I know how this is gonna go.

Still, they kept playing.

“You’re still like that, huh,” Hinata mused quietly. “You’re still—really harsh on yourself. That hasn’t changed, but I suppose other things have.”

“Other things?” Komaeda echoed before laughing. “Like what, per say?”

“You’re not as reckless as you used to be,” was the immediate answer. Another draw. Another several steps ahead. Komaeda’s piece was struggling to keep up. “You’re much calmer. You don’t talk about hope and talent all the time.”

“Because,” Komaeda said. “Hope’s Peak—the encapsulation of all of that—was in reality a breeding ground for despair. It was poisoned to the core and I was just too blind to notice.”

We all were, myself especially, Hinata thought, reaching up to touch his temple. He knew Komaeda noticed, but his eyes screwed shut so that he wouldn’t have to see whatever warp Komaeda’s face. I wasn’t just blind, I was so, so fucking stupid.

“You agreed to be with me,” he forced out so that he wouldn’t have to keep thinking about his own failures. “Your old self never would’ve let yourself have any real sense of happiness. At least not something you’d have to maintain, like a relationship.”

Komaeda chuckled. “You mean you would’ve let me reject you?”

“You did reject me,” Hinata reminded him dryly. “Several times. And then you demanded Tsumiki make sure I didn’t have brain damage.”

“Oh, did I?” Komaeda tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I still find your attachment to me nonsensical, especially when I more or less stated I wanted nothing to do with you in the past. But—I suppose you knew that was a lie, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, you’re a liar.” Hinata cracked a smile. “At least when it comes to your feelings. You’re sincere most of the time.”

“The proper word is stupid,” Komaeda said, moving his piece a single space with a nudge from a metallic finger. “I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. Don’t say that. You shouldn’t even think it.”

Hinata’s tone was as serious as it was grim. Komaeda’s self-effacing expression twitched, but he simply ducked his head reservedly.

“It’s in moments like this where you most resemble Kamukura-kun,” he murmured, fringe falling before his eyes and obscuring his gaze. “He’d speak up like this in the past despite being so quiet most of the time.”

Hinata felt a stirring in the back of his head. He held his breath until it went away and all that was left was the pounding in his ears. Even with that, he still knew.

“He cared about you.”

Kamukura doesn’t let him see into those memories often, although he still sometimes imagined it—maybe even dreamed it. Komaeda Nagito, eyes murky with despair and shoulders trembling under the weight of it, smiling up at him.

“He didn’t think to acknowledge it, much less accept it,” he went on, rubbing his digits into his scalp and catching skin flakes and rain droplets under his nails. “I was the same way in the simulation.”

“You both had strong reasoning to be that way, my inherent worthlessness none withstanding.” Komaeda laughed. “I wasn’t exactly in my best frame of mind at either time, although that’s not saying much.”

“Nor was I,” Hinata retorted. “I even denied part of my identity. I was—pathetic. You were right about that.”

Komaeda is quiet, lips twisting. His shoulders shake briefly under a certain kind of weight. Hinata draws his next card, and it’s another character, a studious blue one named Chouchoux.

“You were an ass about it,” he said. “Like, an absolute ass. But, hey, definitely not the worst thing about you at the time. By the way, this one was used for Shingetsu Nagisa, wasn’t it?”

Komaeda nodded, fiddling with his mechanical hand and making a loud series of whirly noises. He drew his card as well. Another plain one, with his piece moving only two spaces ahead.

Hinata draws and it’s a card of a boy in stripes and red, looking fierce and fiery. Torayaki—obviously the favored character of one Daimon Masaru.

“Do you miss them?” he found himself asking. “If so, we can contact Towa City and ask Naegi’s sister how they’re doing. They might even be curious about you.”

“I doubt it,” Komaeda laughed mirthlessly. “And it’s fine. As long as they’re doing well.”

“I don’t think they hated you,” Hinata said. “You took care of them after all.”

“I was a wretched despair.” Komaeda shook his head. “And they were perfectly self-sufficient. I doubt they even think of me anymore—and rightfully so. I only approached them in the first place out of curiosity, not because I saw children who needed protection and guidance.”

“They would’ve killed you if you had,” Hinata can’t help but remind him. “Probably would’ve found that sentiment insulting with all that they’ve been through. They were children and angry ones at that. I don’t blame them, of course…” He trails off. “I don’t think it’d be bad to send a letter now that things have calmed down a little.”

Not to mention—you lit up when talking about them. You’ve been listless lately, and I know. I get it. There’s no particular reason for it, that’s just how depression works sometimes. I still missed your smile, Nagito.

“Just a letter shouldn’t be too bad,” he insisted. “You’ve been practicing your calligraphy with that hand after all.”

The hand in question flexes. No joints pop, it’s just more whirls. Komaeda does smile, but it’s one that is curled up on his face, like a body trying to keep itself warm in the cold.

Hinata draws Ichigo-hime next. At this rate, Komaeda has no chance of winning. But the funny thing about a game like this was that luck of the draw could flip things so easily. There was one last character space, furthest ahead and closest to the end.

“Maybe,” Komaeda says and—as expected, he draws the card.

It’s a young woman dressed in green named Monaka-jou-sama.

Komaeda wins the games just a few turns later.

Outside, it was still storming.

“It’s pretty late, so let’s get ready for bed, Nagito.”

“Okay.”

Hinata goes to find futons while Komaeda puts away the board game. Hinata sets up a couple of makeshift beds and he presses them together. He does pause afterward, wondering if this was right. He heard Komaeda shuffling about, the whirling of his arm, and then, he felt Komaeda sliding the board game back onto the shelf. Thunder rumbles, the trees are being rustled by the wind, and Komaeda lets out a soft whew.

Hinata is still up until the moment he hears the padding of Komaeda’s soft footsteps, and he only truly relaxes when Komaeda’s slim arms encircle his waist, with Komaeda pressing his face into Hinata’s back. He pets Komaeda’s hair with a lop-sided smile, and Komaeda’s cheeks puff.

“You don’t just remember the simulation, right,” he murmured. “You have Kamukura-kun’s memories, too.”

“Technically,” Hinata replied. “Kamukura Izuru has to share them with me first. Sometimes he does. Sometimes he doesn’t.”

Komaeda huffed.

“It’s so complicated, keeping you two separate yet also together. Sometimes I wonder who I’m with.”

I wonder that, too. But what matters is…

“Regardless of who I am, I still love you.” He pats Komaeda’s head. “That much is and always will be clear.”

“Regardless of who you are, I love you, too,” is mumbled into his back.

It’s so soft a sound that Hinata wouldn’t have even heard him if not for the vibrations, but that’s fine. It’s not like he’s ignorant to Komaeda’s feelings. Not anymore.

He ushers Komaeda under the blankets, Komaeda still clinging to his wrist all the while. Chuckling softly, Hinata slips in after him and squeezes Komaeda’s hand. He rubs his thumb against the other’s pulse, only pausing because Komaeda grips him with the mechanical hand. His grip only tightens when Hinata kisses his forehead and then down his face.

“When the storm passes,” Hinata says, nuzzling along Komaeda’s jawline and pressing another kiss to his cheek where ensuing the blush tinted it pink. “We should send out letters.”

Komaeda ducks his head, but he still accepts the affection that he’s showered with.

“We should also walk along the beach, maybe,” Hinata teases. “See what gets washed up. It might be treasure.”

“You’re a treasure,” Komaeda retorted, flustered. Shoving Hinata’s hands off and his face away, he buried his face into Hinata’s chest, hiding it from further embarrassment. “You’re the worst thing to have ever washed up on that beach.”

Hinata hummed, stroking his hair.

I didn’t technically wash up, but…

“And yet you stayed behind for me.” Hinata hides his smile in those wild white curls. “You’re still here right now.”

Komaeda grumbled but gave no further response. That was fine. Perfectly fine.

Stay with me, alright? Please keep staying with me. He decided against asking that for now for now. Opting instead for, “Sweet dreams, Nagito. I love you.”

#komahina #kamukoma #fanfiction #komahina secret exchange

[tomsandal]

The one where Tom went "can I just make stuff up?" and didn't wait for an answer

a/n: incredibly terrible title brought to you by you yes you who couldn't give me better one heart

characters: červená kapota, tom sandál

warnings: teensy weensy cosmic horror/death depiction at the start (because i am a moron and a fool and forgot what genre im writing), alcohol mention

words: 1,8k

To truly start at the story’s beginning, we’ll need to go many pages back in history books.

It was millennia ago, when something very strange took place and changed the world from how it was known.

It so happened that, for some mysterious reason, a meteorite crashed down on earth and landed in a crater in some frankly unnoteworthy forest.

This incident did not go without notice of course, and not too long after it had fallen were there already parties of plenty that were eager to find out what strangeness took place the night before. Many ventured into the forest, allured by the mystery or driven by their responsibility to protect their village, but not a single one of those brave souls has ever made the journey back. And so the number of volunteers and explorers thinned over time, for the prospect of being lost to those woods without a seeming trace was enough to ward off even the bravest of the brave.

However all those who did go, did not disappear in an equal way.

Some of those who ventured started to feel effects of a mysterious force soon after the start of their journey. Those ones met their end lying down on the forest floor, feverish and plagued by visions indescribable. No man’s willpower to follow common sense and go back home could win over the pull of the compelling presence.

But some of them pulled through. The strongest and greatest of them all did get to see what their end goal was this whole time.

There in the clearing lay the mystery. Patches of brilliant blue were shining among the dark stone, twinkling not unlike the stars that hung above them.

And standing there, in this crushing magical presence, humans did what humans tend to do and moved to touch the shiny stone.

It was no easy feat, bracing against the sheer force of the meteorite this close to the source of all this madness, but some of them managed to do so.

Finally, with their goal at their literal fingertips, they laid their hands at the glittering surface. And their hands melted right off.

The lucky ones died from the immediate shock from the pain. The rest bled out among the grass, suffocating in the stone’s heavy aura.

And some of them leaned even closer... for the call had won over.

For some time has the stone been left undisturbed, lying unmoved while its surroundings changed as the years went by. No wise enough soul dared to enter the haunted forest. And so the years passed in hundreds and the celestial body had started to merge with the surrounding environment. Many years has it been since then, when it was finally fully covered and sunken deep into the ground and its power dimmed to a hum.

If you were to walk by that place at that moment, you wouldn't think there to be anything out of the ordinary. And so didn't the people that had settled there.

Who might know why they chose this secluded woodland place for their settlement but they did and surprisingly prospered without any casualties.

The stone's powers have dulled over the centuries but they were still there nonetheless, even if only in a shadow of its former self, and the construction and disturbance of the ground was bound to wake it up.

And so the energy started seeping out, warping the unaware residence in the process. With each generation grew the changes more profound, until the place was almost unrecognizable. Plants grew wild and high, displaying colours very uncommon to vegetation anywhere, the roaming animals wouldn't be recognized even by the highest of scholars, trees grew twisted with leaves of gold and humans were born with features never seen before. Their hair was bright and shining in arrays of blues, purples and greens, just like the lights in the sky that could be seen from time to time. But since no negative effect seemed to take place, this magical village of star-touched people lived in-

“Star-touched...really.”

“Yes and no interruptions please.”

-lived in peace. But time was not kind to them.

The year was 1610, the witchcraft craze was at its peak and it didn’t take long until the hunt was brought to them as well. Their clearly otherworldly appearance couldn't be excused and many fell on the trials, under the hands of men driven by fear and hatred. The rest left their homeland, which ended promptly burned to the ground. From then on, they lived as hermits far, far from the human eye.

They lay in hiding for long, until their time has finally come, when people started walking among themselves with wild bright coloured hair and-

“wait, wait what about the magical wolves”

“That is tied to my own personal upbringing and no, was not in fact universal for everyone, stop messing up the timeline”

“oh I am messing up the timeline and not you making something different every ti-”

“As i was saying-” “and when do the glow squids come in” “My glow squid ancestry is clearly the reason for my eyes not the hair ”

“yes, of course, the eyes that are obviously not coloured contacts”

“Keep that tone to yourself and shush.”

///

It was a pleasant summer night, the air was crisp and the streets were quiet. And there, in a certain bar, sat two peculiar people.

Kapota sighed and let her friend-but not friend-associate from work-but not wanting to kill each other right now-buddy ramble on as she took a sip from her glass. She had ordered something called the Hanky Panky Cocktail Supreme and deemed it as decent enough, if a bit overpriced for a glorified gin and fernet.

Still, she would rather be holding a pint of good old fashioned beer, but finding a place around these parts with a half decent beer is near impossible. She will not be drinking that dishwater no thank you.

Good thing that she’s a skilled fancy drinker. A life skill which she picked up from her business bar outings, such as now, which maybe wasn't actually the most objective of examples since most of those were with Tom.

Not that the aforementioned was any help in the drink picking department, that maniac of a man just sashays to the bar and orders a literal colour and when no further explanation is given the bemused barkeep has to pick themselves from their array of colourful drinks.

Seems that they picked well today, because the current “pink” already sat empty before Tom.

She continued to mull over this and that, all the while enjoying the bar’s comfortable atmosphere, when something caught her attention.

“wait wait roll that back”

“Why, could it be that you weren’t paying attention?”

“Yes I was, but what were you saying about pointed ears?”

“Oh, just that the star-touched had pointy ears alongside the wild hair.”

“well, please do pray tell me Sandál dearest how could it be that your ears are rounded”

“As I said, a long time ago in the times most desperate, riddled with fear, pain and terror, food was scarce and from the terrible hunger they gnawed on their ears until they were completely rounded and from then on this feature was lost to them.”

“ok see now i know you're just making fun of me because thats just from that dumb movie you like”

“should have been listening.

Honestly why do i even bother, I am so generously sharing the long lost history of my kind and yet this audience is so ungrateful”

“noo i like your lore, don’t worry it's much more entertaining than ‘I went to the aisle 12 in Kaufland and picked the gaudiest shade of purple they had’”

Tom just grumbled to that and moved to take a demonstrative swig of his drink, but then he realized he didn't have any left anymore so he instead picked up the little paper umbrella and pointed it accusatively at Kapota.

“Never, have I been more disrespected, as I am right now.” He complained, while accentuating every word with a swish of the tiny umbrella.

“It's nothing personal pal, but you can’t exactly expect people to believe you with a name like yours.”

“Oh that's rich coming from you!”

“I'll let you know that the Kapota name is very ancient and regal, thank you very much. Passed down only by the generations of the clan McKap”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s true look it up”

“Not happening, if i did that you would just laugh at me that i fell for it.”

“Well in that case I guess you’ll never know”

“oh shut up!”

“you shut up!”

…

It was a pleasant summer night, the air was crisp and the streets were quiet. And there, in a certain bar, bickered two peculiar people.

///

All in all Tom would consider this a successful night. He left the bar on his own two feet, had all his belongings still with him, including both of his important trademark sandals still on, and head somewhat clear.

About ten minutes back, they had been politely ushered out of the bar, because it was apparently closing. The shiny sign with the numbers 24 and 7 would beg to differ but sure.

Yeah, ‘always open’ my arse, people can't even trust bars these days.

He wasn’t really upset though, couldn’t blame the poor bloke either, because anyone who had to listen to their nonsense for the past -who knows how long- had all the right to kick them out. It didn’t matter anyway, tonight really was quite nice.

So now they were just lounging together on the sidewalk, enjoying the chilly air.

A lone car sped by somewhere in the distance.

Tom gently thunked his head on the wall behind him and let out a content sigh, next to him Kapota finally broke the silence.

“So...who’s the designated driver, hahh”

A good question indeed, since neither of them even closely qualify to anything akin to sober. Not that it would have changed much, given the fact that Tom does not in fact have a driving licence anyway. His most beloved, bless their heart, is incredibly awesome and does have one of those and drives him around in times of need. This would seem like a time of need and it wouldn't even be the first time Kap would hitch a ride with them, but this hour, other than time of need, is also time commonly known as ‘very late’.

“I guess I can try to give Tobi a call, but I dunno it's pretty late...”

“Nah, let ‘em sleep”

“So whats the battle plan Kaptn’? ”

“Where's the uhhh friggin closest bus stop.”

“Few damn blocks away at least that's for sure”

“Awesome... lets go its field trip time”

And so they went onto the grand adventure of getting safely home.

Some would deem it highly unwise to blunder around dark alleyways in the middle of the night, but honestly, unfortunate are those street rats who shall foolheartedly decide to pick those two fools as their next victims.

#2.5 bc #is the fic introduvtion at the start necessary? no but I wanted to make it pretty n cool ykno :) #idk that were the only one here #pretty for *us* #červená kapota #tom sandál #2.5 bc but with more words #thats the tag for fics now yes #kinda wanna write again but dont know what

[uhgoodmoni]

Nothing That Lasts Forever

A BTS fanfiction: Horror

Ao3 link - Wattpad link - Soundtrack 

Trailer - ch1 - ch2 - ch3 - ch4 - ch5 - ch6 - ch7 - ch8 - ch9

Warnings: Major Character Death, Blood, Demons, Fighting, Verbal and Physical Abuse, Mention of marijuana, Death, Cursing, Fire, Unintentional Self-harm, Gore. Yoongi's injury

Chapter Two: Half Hour

Yoongi’s POV

We got over it quickly. In reality it’s not that big of a deal if we can't use our phones. That’s the point of this trip anyways. Right? We decided to go and explore the property. So if we get service while we walk around, then that’s a blessing. If not, then the boys will just miss us for the next couple of days. We head out making sure we are nice and warm, now sporting hats. 

“Let's take the path over there first,” I point, Jungkook, squishing his cheeks together with his hands. Hoseok nods, making sure the door is locked behind us. 

“Okay! Okay!” He cheers, taking the lead. 

“Can we go deep in the forest next,” Jungkook smirks evilly, turning to the left of the cabin where the treeline is the darkest. Behind the building is just winding trees and rocks, No focus point, no markers to designate where you are. Too easy to get lost in there. It could go on and on. Like I noticed earlier, there aren't really any paths. 

“Uhh no,” Hobi sneers, walking forward. “By yourself maybe.” Koo snickers, wadling after him. 

“Dark and spooky is fun.” He huffs, looking down to the ground, taking each step carefully. “I wanna go see the basement.” 

“There isn’t a basement dummy.” Hoseok shakes his head, stepping on some dead leaves as we reach the path. “You’ve seen the whole place.” Jungkook kicks a rock, it flies into a nearby tree.

“I meant the forest.” He giggles, “But basements are scary too.” Around us the trees fill in, just leaving a path big enough for two to fit next to each other. I lag behind the others, glancing back to the cabin. Hobi had left the kitchen light on in case it got dark while we walked. Already it’s dimming, especially now being under the tree cover. The boy’s backs shine green from the light peaking through the leaves. I smile thinking about when we all camped together. We got to play lots of games, and eat lots of good food. Even though I miss the others, I shouldn’t dwell on it.

“Have you guys been in the basement of Big Hit?” I ask, Hobi looking back. 

“No and why have you?” He grins, rolling his eyes, “nevermind.” He shakes his head, giving a slight laugh. 

My lip curls up, “What?” Jungkook asks, looking back and forth confused. 

Hoseok rolls his eyes again, looking to the sky with his heart smile, “Smoking?” I laugh, Jungkook looking at me with wide eyes. I don’t answer, Hobi nodding since it’s been confirmed. 

“Hyung, smoking is bad for you.” Jungkook scolds me, eyes wide, “I’ve never seen you with cigarettes?” 

Hobi snickers, “Wrong smoking.” 

“Oh.” He mumbles, smiling.

I hike up my shoulders, sticking my hands in my pockets, “Only like a few times. Namjoon has done it too.”

“We’ve known.” Hobi laughs. 

Jungkook shakes his head with an eyebrow raised, “um I have not known.”

“Well you're the only one.” 

We continue walking, not sure how long the path is, but slowly it starts trekking uphill, rocks giving us steps through the dirt. Weeds and leaves tangle at our feet, the earth soft as we take our steps. I take a breath, looking up towards the front of the path. It is beginning to clear out, the grass becoming dry as we get higher on the hill. The air also getting sharper at my lungs.

Jungkook, puffs out some air, pushing past Hobi and jogging up to where the treeline seems to end. The wind blows his hood off, as he glances downward to us. There’s a huge grin on his face as he waves us upward. ‘faster’ he mouths. 

Hobi flicks his eyes to mine, and they squint shut as he smiles, “Race ya.” I sigh, nodding. He doesn’t give me time to prepare, dashing up the hill in pursuit of Jungkook. His feet kick up in front of me, as I take my first running steps. 

The chill air blows through our hair, almost blowing off my hat. We break through the trees, meeting Jungkook at the top. The hilltop is flat starting over trees on the horizon. In the distance is the city, barely visible in the haze. 

I hold tight to my hat, looking to Hobi who doesn’t seem content with winning the race. His face is screwed up, leaning over and facing the ground. 

“Hoba hyung, what's wrong?” Koo asks between breaths as I go to him, placing my hand on his back.

“My ankle didn’t like that.” He sighs, a huge frown on his face. “I should have worn a brace I guess.” He shrugs, patting Jungkook's shoulder.

“Did you at least bring it?” I keep my hand on his shoulders, and he looks at me nodding. “Well, you have to be careful on the way down.”

“Yeah no racing.” Jungkook teases, his hair dances about in the wind before he fixes his hat. 

“Yep yep.” He purses his lips, standing up straight. “It’s not twisted or anything so I don’t even know what's wrong.”

“That doesn’t matter.” I say, “What matters is that it heals quickly and doesn’t get worse.”

Hoseok rubs my back, “don’t worry don’t worry. I agree with you. We don't have any strenuous activities planned so.”

“Yeah, what are we going to do?” Jungkook asks.

“Oh!” Hobi jumps up to him, “I bought canvases so we can paint.” He turns to me as well, “We can paint up here if it's not too windy tomorrow?” My body shifts back to the skyline, it's mostly trees but there are mountains and hills in the distance. Dotted greens and grey from the clouds. 

“Yes, this is painting worthy.” I smile back to them, and we decide to go back down. It’s slow and chilly as we are extra careful of Hoba’s ankle. Though it didn’t seem to really bother him too much. We go straight back into the cabin, planning to light the fire pit outside and eat our sandwiches there. 

“We need firewood!” Jungkook announces to us, standing arms crossed in the living room. “And I’m gonna go get it.” He smirks, reaching for the door. 

“There’s a few big logs here.” I point out by the wall. Hobi is busy sorting through the food.

Jungkook shakes his head, “no, we need kindling for the fire.” I nod realizing he’s right. 

Hobi shuffles out some bread, “Okay well don’t go too far please.” Jungkook sticks out a tongue before heading out the door. 

“Tch,” How annoying. If he gets lost it’s not on us. I flip through the bags looking for the lighter. 

Hoba lets out a sigh. “What kind of sandwich would you like?”

“Mhm, I’ll make my own. It's okay.” I wave him off, and I can practically feel his burning eyes on me. “I gave up flour, remember.” 

“I know dummy, you brought your own flourless wrap things. But what do you want in it?” I look up from the bag I’m searching. He’s still facing the counter, putting together another sandwich. I shrug knowing there’s bulgogi, and rice and I don’t know. Why can’t he just let me do it myself? I was just gonna throw it together. 

“Seriously you don't have to bother.”

“Seriously, I want to.” He turns his head to me, the corner of his lip coming up in a smile. I sigh, struggling not to smile myself.

“Fine, fine, but really I’ll take anything in it.” He raises his shoulders in success, returning his attention to the counter. Annoyed, I go back to searching the back, reaching for the lighter in the back pocket. Where I know I put it. 

My hands slide down, fingers hitting the bottom of the pack. It was empty. My lips press together, as I sift through the bag once more. 

Hopefully I didn’t forget it. “Hey, uh. Did you bring a lighter?” With my hands crossing my chest I stand up from the bag. My eyes scan the room. Not that I had taken it out, but maybe Jungkook did. 

“Isn’t that what you’re looking for?” His voice travels across as I walk towards the back rooms. “No I didn’t bring one.” 

I hum, popping my head in his room anyways. His bag is left on the floor by an old wooden dresser. It's across from the bed, a quilt tucked into the sides. Three pillows, mine only has one. A single long window is across from the door. It's opaque, latched shut. A dark green light shone through, blurry whispers of the trees. The lighter isn’t in there, unless Hobi stuck it in his bag. Sliding down the hallway, my foot finds itself in Jungkook’s claimed room. A chill seeps out as I push the door open. My body tingles, making me want to turn around and close it. I take my peak. 

A wooden chair piled with blankets is in the corner, the bed the same as Hoseok’s. Across from the bed, a vanity, the edges of the mirror blackened from age. I notice in the reflection that a window, matching Hoseok's, is cranked open. No wonder it’s so cold. My feet lead me in further, the chill hovering over me, thick like the haze outside. It’s silent. No sounds of birds or anything from outside. 

The air is damp, as if it were humid. But it is getting colder as the day moves on. I find myself on the other side of the bed, latching the window back in place. The breeze cuts, leaving the chill hanging in the room. Hopefully it will warm back up before Jungkook goes to bed. I’m surprised he didn’t notice it was open in the first place. I turn, stepping past the chair. My foot taps something, the sound of it scraping across the floor making me jump. I look down to my feet, the dark wood floors under my vans. Dust is caked in between the boards. Their two rooms seem a lot older than the rest of the house. The quilt and old fashioned furniture, reminding me of my grandmother's home.  

Whatever it was that I had kicked, must have hidden itself under his bed. I lean over, hands helping me lower myself to the ground. My knees hit the wood. The frame of the bed revealing cobwebs the lower you look. My eyes shift under, the smell of wood and dust rising in my nostrils. My eyes catch it.

Just under the right side is the long blue lighter that was in my pack. With a quick sigh I shuffle over to it, my legs sliding across the floor. I groan, stretching to get it. My fingers meet the cool surface, clenching over it, and then pulling out. Why the fuck is it in here? Unless Jungkook had packed it in his bag and I’m mistaken. I swear I tucked it in the back of my bag though. With my palms pressing against the floor I push up. Using the bed as leverage, I stand. Some kind of relief fills me, as I realize I won't be sleeping in there. 

As I exit the room I shut the door, and quickly shuffle from the hallway back to the living room. “Found it.” I say looking around the corner, to see that Hoseok is no longer standing in the kitchen. Two sandwiches and a wrap are lined up by the sink on a cutting board. 

“Hoba?” 

No response. 

I croon my neck around the room, noticing the front door isn’t closed. A slit of light entering the room, barely revealing that the door is open. Slowly I creep over. Why the hell are they playing these games? I’m not trying to get left alone here. I reach for the handle, cool air hitting my knuckles. 

“Hey,” The door slams into my hand. I wince, pulling my hand into my body. Hobi, comes in, mouth making an O as he realizes he ran into me. My opposite hand holds at the other, now becoming red. 

“Oooww.” I cry, Hobi covering his mouth and coming closer to me. 

“Yoongiiii, I’m so sorry.” His hands clasp over mine, and I shrug away.

“I’m fine, fine.” I huff out, “What were you even doing?” I ask, relaxing my voice, he shrugs, still looking worried. 

“I’m calling for Koo.” He says, leaning on the open door, letting in all the cold air. I move him over, closing it.

“In or out bro. We can’t let out the warm air.”

He nods, going back to the kitchen. “Well do you want to call for him? If not your sandwich is right here.” I sigh, looking out the windows. Hopefully he didn’t go too far. We warned him that he shouldn’t. Him getting lost right now would be the worst. 

“I’ll get him.” I groan, stretching my fingers out as I slide the door open. My knuckles are cherry, reddening by the second as I leave the warmth of the cabin. Unlike Hobi, I shut the door, walking out from under the roof and peering around the sides of the walls. He really could have gone anywhere. The path. The road. The forest in any which direction. Gravel slides under my feet as I walk out to the fire pit. I should have brought out a bundle of wood, and started setting up. Oh well.

“Jungkook!” I raise my hand to my mouth, spinning around. “Jungkook!” Spinning was a dumb mistake. The trees spinning around me, a green blur. Halting, I balance myself. I’ll stick by the cabin, I decide, walking along the side walls into the trees. My left hand traces the wood logs, gravel turning to dirt and roots. I watch my feet as I take each step. 

Round the corner. My head goes up. The back of the cabin seems different than the rest. Hobi and Jungkook’s windows are on the upper wall. But the logs are darker than the ones in the front. Maybe they built one half of the cabin and then the other later. My hand falls to my leg, hovering.

“Jungkook!” I shout, turning to the woods. The adam’s apple in my throat bobs as I swallow. Long twisted trees, the bark forming moaning faces. It goes further and further and further. Behind each tree, another tree. And on. And on. I blink, staring into the green. Fuck. I dash around the corner. Feet pressing into the moist ground. Harder. On and. On and. My hands grasp the handle, pulling open letting a wave of heat come over me. I pray Jungkook’s not lost. The trees were almost hypnotizing. With his antics he’d go in head first. Then we’d have to get a…

“Hey, why the hell did you go off and disappear?” An accusing voice, makes me turn my head. It’s Hobi, holding out the wrap. I blink. What?

At the couch is Jungkook, chowing down on his sandwich. Looking safe and warm. 

“I sent you off to go get this one. And then you disappear?” Hobi shakes his head, joining Koo. “It’s not like you so I almost panicked.” He glared back at me. “Did you get lost looking for him or something?” 

What the hell is he talking about? 

“What are you talking about?” Is all I manage, taking my first steps towards them. “I was gone for less than five minutes.” Jungkook looks over, mouth filled.

 Hobi finally takes his first bite, but growls through chewing, “Are you kidding? It’s been like half an hour. Jungkook came back right after you left.” He rolls his eyes, waving me over to join them. “I tried calling the police at the eight minute mark but Koo told me I was being ridiculous.”

My head shakes. And on. And on. “Fuck off. You’re playing some kinda prank. I literally just walked behind the cabin and back.” But Hobi is bad at lying. The worst liar. He can’t. There's not a single bone in his body that allows him to successfully lie. 

“Yoongi chill.” Jungkook says, setting down his food. “You’re getting worked up. Maybe time just passed you by and you didn’t realize.”

I bite my lip. “No.” 

Hobi stands, “Yoongi are you okay?” He reaches for me. 

I hit his hand away. “No what's up with you? Why are you lying?” But he can’t, and I know that. His head tilts in confusion. 

“Yoongi hyung, I seriously watched the clock. You were gone for more than twenty five minutes.” He continues, Jungkook looking on. Still I shake my head. They must have it wrong. I was in and out. Gone for five minutes tops. 

“I must have snuck around the other side and missed you calling for me.” Jungkook admits, “and I don’t know maybe the clock runs the minutes by faster.” My teeth clench knowing he's only bullshiting to make me feel better. A half an hour? Had I really lost track of time? Maybe I really was out there longer than I thought. 

Hoseok grabs my arm, pulling me down on the chair. “Why don’t you eat. Then we can start the fire and do something.” 

I look over both of them. “Yeah, I guess.” lifting the wrap to my lips I take a bite. Was I really out there for thirty minutes?

 It goes further and further and further. Behind each tree, another tree. On and. On and.

#btsedit #btsau #bts fanfic #bts min yoongi #bts jeon jeongguk #bts jung hoseok #my writing #horror

[codyfernmorelikedaddyfern]

Is There Somewhere - Soft!Xavier x Fem!Reader

Another one inspired by my spotify playlist. Feel free to suggest any other pairing of songs and characters from AHS.

Big Xavier mood at the moment, can you tell?

I recommend you listen to the song after or before you read, Halsey is an amazing artist.

Description: Your best friend Xavier has just moved to LA to pursue his acting career. He leaves a message on your answering machine letting you know he has started to date someone. Facing your feelings for him, you ask him to come and see you during a mental breakdown.

Warnings: Mental health, panic attacks and soft Xavier. A pinch of steam at the end but that’s it.

“Hey, Y/N! Sorry I didn’t call since I settled in my new flat,” the soft voice of your best friend, Xavier rung from your answering machine. “I was on my way to an audition for the last episode of Mash and that girl rear-ended me and I guess I got a little busy her and we had went on a couple of dates since then” he continued. “Just called me back when you’ve got a hot sec’ and if you need me over just say the word and I’ll drive back to you! Miss you!”

He had moved hours away from your suburban part of Fresno weeks ago to work as an aerobic teacher while trying to make his way on the big screen as an actor. These weeks had been the hardest since you had met Xavier back in school, you two knitting a beautiful friendship and helping the both of you bloom from awkward teenagers to bright young adults.

There was however one issue with this whole ordeal. Blossoming by his side lead to your feelings for him burgeoning at the same time. The ache of having him gone was already a handful for you to handle but now knowing that he had someone to watch over him. Someone else.

Your hands trembled, your lip starting to quiver. Your chest tighten and soon enough, the ability to breath was aching in your chest. You quickly pushed the door of your bedroom closed, afraid your parent would hear your incoming panic attack coiling in your lungs. Grabbing on the large handset, you shakenly dialled his number. After a couple of tones, his voice came through.

“Hi, this is Xavier?

-Xav, it’s (Y/N), you whispered with a halting breath.

-(Y/N)! It’s so go- Are you alright, he asked, concerned by the irregular sound of your voice.

-N-no, I n-need to s-see y-ou.

-Shit! Okay, hang tight! Focus on your breathing! I’ll jump in the van and come straight to you!”

Gasping for air as the panic crept more through your body, crippling your limbs, you felt your legs give in under your weight and you collapsed by your bed in a muffled crash. “FUCK! Montana! I need to run! My best friend is having a panic attack!! She needs me!” you heard come through the phone, a long rustle building up as Xavier started to pack up a few things. The jingle of his keys came to your ears as he came back through the phone to talk to you. “Honey, I need you to breath. Inhale through the nose, count to 5 then exhale through the mouth,” he encouraged, waiting to start hearing your breathing regulate somewhat. “I’ll be here as soon as I can, I am ready to go, please keep on breathing” a soft sniffle came through to your ears, not realising the tears staining your cheeks as you started to cry in fear. “I love you, (Y/N), hold on” was the last thing you heard before he hung up.

Sitting on the cold carpeted floor of your bedroom with your head erratically spinning for what felt like hours, you managed to regain control on all of your 5 senses. Having lost complete notion of time, you stumbled over to place the handset back on the dock and crumbled on your bed. Seconds, minutes, hours went by as you laid on the mattress, gently weeping and drifting in and out of consciousness.

The ringing of the house phone pulled you out of your tremor. “(Y/N)! Xavier on the phone for you!” you mother shouted. Your weak legs carried you back to the phone, picking it up gingerly.

“Hello? Xavier, you asked weakly.

- Hey sweetheart. I’m just down the road, filling up the road. I should be over in 20.

- Xav… My parents can’t see me like that… Is there somewhere you can meet me?

- It’s alright, he reassured, I’ll get a hotel room somewhere and we can talk it out there, okay?

-Yes, just let me know when you’re there”

The conversation ended by a muffled exchange of “I love you”, the words cutting the wound open once again. It slowly dawned onto you that hours had passed. Gathering a pair of jeans and a clean sweater to discard your tear soaked one, you sat back on your bed and changed then patiently waiting, the uneven sobs still clutching at your chest. The phone rang again and Xavier inform you of the hotel he had settled in. Peeking out of your bedroom to hear the quiet mumbling of the TV downstairs. Your change of clothes in your overnight bag, you gingerly sneaked out of the room then the house to jump on your bicycle and ride your way to the designated hotel.

The building came into your field of view and your heart skipped a beat. As you came closer, you could see his tall and athletic frame pacing in front of the doors. He knew the sound of your bike and could recognise it in the busiest roads possible, having heard it too often in the middle of the numerous night you rode to his house to see him.

His blue gaze locked onto your bloodshot (Y/E/C) eyes and he sprinted towards you, leaping over the railing of the stairs leading up to the hotel. You stumbled off of your bicycle and let yourself fall against his strong arms.

Your best friend’s hands laced themselves around your wait, pulling you securely up against his chest, the second one losing itself in your (Y/H/L) (Y/H/C) locks. Your own arms locked themselves around his neck, burying your featured against the crook of his neck, taking in his scent and the soft texture of his supple skin. You knew you had missed it, missed him, but you only realised now exactly how much of him you missed.

Like a rumble, his voice shushed and cooed in your ears, putting you in the safest place in your mind. He was your safe place and you both knew how often he led you to it in the middle of the night when it felt like death was catching a grip around your lungs and you thought your life was exiting your body.

“I’ve got you now. You’re safe”, he whispered, gently stroking your hair. Holding onto you securely, he leaned forward to grab the bicycle you tossed to the ground. “Let’s go inside” his voice filled your ear, lowering you gently to let your feet make contact with the floor, your arms untangling themselves as you grabbed the handles of your bike and parking it by the entrance. The silent walk up the stairs felt like an eternity. Xavier pushed his key in the door, unlocking a simple single bed rood. His hand motioned for you to step in, his footfalls in tow with yours, the door closing behind you.

He plopped on the bed, smiling up at you in an attempt to cheer you up but you lost eye contact, looking down at your feet before his hands reached up to pull you against him, gently laying the both of you down on the white sheets of the bed, keeping you all scooped up against his warm chest.

“Talk to me, please, have I done something wrong?” he questioned, full of concern. The jerky breath that filled your lungs next felt like it sliced through your chest like daggers. Tears leaked out of your eyes, quickly staining a small puddle against his chest. A sob, louder than you meant to allow, escaped your lips, followed by another one and the next thing you knew was him pulling your face impossibly closer to him as your cries and whales pushed a few drops from his ocean eyes.

Xavier stroked your hair, carefully rocking you from side to side. His gaze directed itself towards your features, exploring the twisted expression of total desperation on your face. His fingers pushed your chin up in an attempt to get your attention, internally wishing to see more of the beautiful soul he had grown up to adore and somewhat admire. “If someone hurts you, you need to tell me. I will make them pay” were his next words before you drowned yourself in his eyes, your brain allowing you a break between wails.

You propped yourself on your elbows, examining the handsome figure laying beneath you. Then something came over you and you pushed your lips against his in a pour attempt to make your cries stop. His hands, gently stroking your back, jolted away from your sweater in surprise, his eyes wide open. The taste of your tears mixed with his chapstick and own taste was like ambrosia to you. For the only split second the kiss was initiated, it felt like your heart was beating again, like you had never been alive until this very moment of deep intimacy.

The realisation that he was not returning the kiss hit you like a brick of walls, pushing yourself off his lips and seeing his face, his perfectly sculpted face, torn in a mixture of heartbreak and surprise, tears starting to seep out of his own eyes. You jolted yourself off of his body, stumbling back on your legs until you bumped into the wall behind you, a hand covering your mouth in horror.

He sat on the bed, his mouth agape. “I-I-I’m so so-rry, I d-idn’t mean to” you stuttered, the pain in your chest coming back as the flock of butterfly built up in your chest dispersed throughout your body. Your eyes darted around the room in search for some comfort. You heard the springs of the bed creak as Xavier pulled himself up from it, the same look of shock plastered across his features. “I didn’t know, (Y/N)”, he whispered from the other side of the room, his gaze fixated on you like a prey waiting for it’s predator to pounce on it.

Your body shifted, turning your back to him “I didn’t mean to” was all you could repeat, the cries peaking up again. “I just wanted to talk, I swear” you defended yourself, pushing your fingers through your hair, pulling on your (Y/H/C) roots. Breathing became hard again as you slowly lowered yourself to the floor, kneeling against the carpet, keeping your back turned to him.

“You have that girl back there… I just felt… Alone and I panicked”. Her words charged at him like a thousand armed men. Xavier buried his hands in his face at the realisation of your words. And it hit him. He hurt you and that thought was like a poisoned dagger through the heart. A small cry escaped his lips as he sat down on the bed, the venom of her own tears bleeding through his body.

His feet paced through the room as he emptied his pockets on the bed and soon enough, his arms wrapped around your (Y/B/T) frame. “You’ll never be alone, please, never think that someone else will get between you and me. I love you” his lips planted a soft kiss on the top of your head and you felt it again. Your heart beating.

A foreign feeling you had never been granted the chance to experience. “I’ve brought a few things to take the edge off” he finished, sitting back on the bed. The content of his pockets was in fact a lighter and a half-assed joint. You were always the one to roll them. A little smile pricked at the comers of your mouth and you sat next to him, wrapping your own arms around yourself in fear that the colony of fluttering critters would escape your belly.

You had liked Xavier for so long that you had not bothered noticing the change of rhythm your heart was adopting. Lighting it up and passing over, the next few minutes were spent in silence, the both of you consuming the cigarette slowly.

“Is that better, he enquired, cocking his head in your direction.

- I think so. I’m so sorry for earlier, you cursed yourself for reminding yourself of it.

- It’s…It’s okay (Y/N). I’ve always wondered how it felt to kiss you anyways.”

Your heart stopped at his words.

“I mean, we have been friends for so long that it’s kind of always been in my mind because, you know, we’ve never considered each other that way.

-It’s not okay, Xavier. You have a-, you could not even pronounce the words, your lungs tightening in your chest once more.

- A girlfriend? I mean, we’re not actually together, we’re just… hanging out, really”

He continued muttering about his situation with that girl without realising the redness blossoming in your eyes.

He turned his head to you when you heavily gasped for air, realising you were on the verge of another panic attack. He pushed your back against his chest and your clutched his arms like stairway railings. Xavier’s head rested on your shoulder as your grip tightened against his wrists, your breathing falling short over and over again. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, your palms turning clammy and sticky. The dizziness came next, your fingers loosening against him, the room spinning. The nausea built up in your stomach as you whispered “To the ba-throom, pl–please”. In one fell swoop, he hooked his arm underneath your legs and hurried you to the bathroom, settling you both against the cold tile of the shower floor.

Your hair flew off your face as his fingers pulled it gently to the back. His free digits trailed underneath your sweatshirt, rubbing circles against the small of your back as your head lulled to the side, your vision blurring up with flashes of whites and blacks starry spots.

Another handful of minutes passed as Xavier gingerly helped you sway out of your fit of terror with soft words on encouragements, trying his best to reassure you. Your mouth dry and cottony, you gently spoke “I didn’t mean to…” you rolled your head, your body regaining any previous strength slowly, nestled against his chest. He pressed his lips against the supple skin of you cheek and you felt him breathing in your smell once again.

“Can you stand up?” he wondered before you nodded. Pulling both of your bodies up, you made your way to the bedroom again. “Let’s enjoy this high while it lasts and enjoy being together, alright?” he smiled, turning on the radio and shifting the frequency to play a station with the better music availability at the moment. “Tonight, we party!” he laughed, starting some sort of choreography taking possession of his body as he danced in his tube socks in the hotel room.

You giggle at the number of expressions he pulled, pulling you in for a spin to the rhythm of Queen, Billy Idol and The Beatles. Looking up and him, your heart flutter as his smile and laugh grew wider and louder, matching your expression, slightly picking up on the hype train he had just pushed you in. When Rock with You by Michael Jackson started playing, the atmosphere shifted as he pulled you in closer. You drowned yourself in the ocean blue of his eyes, letting it consume you. He linked your forehead to his, the tip of his nose brushing against your while his voice whispered the lines as if it was written for you.

The pit in your stomach deepened once more and, for a second, you felt yourself falling while his fingers linked to your hips, helping your to the beat of the song. His gaze looked down to the awkward movement of your feet underneath him and when he linked it back to yours, it was like euphoria.

Tendrils unleashed in your rib cage and your smile dropped, your smile fading as your realised what was happening. Right in this moment, it dawned onto you. You had just fallen in love with him. It had been slow at first but, as you looked in the deep pools of his eyes, you had just jumped into your feelings. Your fingers, resting on his shoulder, climbed up his neck, peppering his skin with goose bumps. Xavier’s eyes fluttered shut for a split second before yours did. You had both stopped dancing without realising it.

You pushed yourself on your heels, trusting your instinct to find his lips again, now devoid of any lip balm but coated with a fresh coat of saliva as he had just licked his dried lips. The mere fluttering in your chest exploded against your lungs. You could taste the weed in his breath but more importantly, you tasted him.

This time was different, you felt his hands tighten against your hips as he pulled you even closer to him, leaning slightly to the side and deepening the kiss. Grabbing the side of your throat, his digits moved quickly against your skin and when you both pulled away, the air between the both of you only seemed both burning hot and icy cold.

“I love you” was all you could whimper before Xavier dove in for another kiss, this time pushing you against the nearby wall. His palms gripped the underside of your thighs, pushing you up against the small dresser and helping you sit on it. Breaking off the kiss to trail his lips down the crook of your neck. “Promise me you’re not saying this because you’re jealous” he groaned, his lips bruising and making your shoulders. Your finger grabbed his jaws, pulling his gaze towards yours, silently trying to convince him this was not an act. “I didn’t mean to fall in love tonight” were your last words before another burning kiss. “Glad to know I’ve beaten you to it this time” he whispered against your lips, unleashing a legion of critters in your heart, falling helplessly even deeper for your best friend as he carried your body to the single bed.

“This is right where it begins” he whispered…

#xavier plympton #xavier plympton x reader #american horror story #ahs 1984

[theangrypokemaniac]

Contests Part 2/2

6. Loser Jessie

Screechy harpie Jessay has even more of a raw deal than Mavis and Dawn of the Dead.

From the outset I knew she'd never be champion, but she ought to rise above the tiresome berks clogging up procedure.

Sufficient popularity at Pokémon Towers ensured the girls were allotted coverage of all their award ceremonies. They had a moment in the sun.

What has Jessie in comparison?

I can't recall Hoenn, but I don't expect it was much.

Sinnoh however carried naught but a single paltry episode.

This for a main character.

This for someone there from the beginning.

This for an ardent fan favourite.

This for a wench who, should we include all her various mutations, has featured in more installments than either of 'em.

But no, treat Jesseee as worthless, even lower than Dawn's groupies. It's not like anyone watches it for her.

Looking back, it's obvious what they were intending to do come Unova.

What's the score then?

• One paltry Contest on screen.

• A couple happen elsewhere, marked by a few seconds per mention when the script oh-so generously moves away from the thrilling main plot.

It's gotta be the small-town concerns for Jessuhleenuh, nothing major. She deserves no better.

• One won by James, so not hers. Press her inadequacy upon us!

• One obtained as a gesture of pity from Kate Middleton.

And how did that work? What's the good of allowing 'Dawn' entry again?

She'd already qualified. If winning here, that gives her six, therefore there aren't enough Co-ordinators for the culmination.

And when Jessie showed up with a Ribbon recorded as belonging to Dawn, how was she taken as fulfilling the quota?

The slapdash way these Contests are run!

God forbid Jess should be shown as excelling at anything. It must be scraping into the final undeservedly.

Bitch gotta know her place.

7. Bumpkin Jessie

...

Ain't no description I can give that don't rhyme with 'hit', or variations of the theme.

You thought the shafting Jessica got coverage wise was bad enough? Yer ain't heard the 'alf of it.

Sinnoh was a period of peak Moron Team Rocket, where the one surprise was how stupid they could be.

You may remember an early episode when James designed her clothes for the catwalk. She thought it'd complement his work by applying lipstick all across her mug.

Obviously Jessie would do that, clueless as to how make-up functions.

Come on kids, she's thick!

Even at that numskull nadir it's difficult to comprehend anyone choosing this get up without severe duress.

Picture the scene: you debut on stage, before an audience of thousands and television cameras, in an event preoccupied with superficiality.

What do you wear?

• Giant, oversized glasses out of fashion since the Seventies.

• Bootlace tie last worn in the nineteenth century Wild West by a barman serving sarsaparillas.

• Colour scheme of brown and orange, the nation's favourite hues.

• A man's old shirt fraying at the cuffs.

• Voluminous apron dress.

• Massive yellow bows last seen decorating an Easter Egg. Always a winner.

• Heavy, clod-hopping boots.

• PIGTAILS!!!

Even the name is unattractive.

Ah yes, very common for those under six. Unheard of later.

You have reached puberty haven't yer Jessie? I can't tell anymore.

They couldn't get enough of that combination in Cosmo, which is why it's no longer in print.

Not only is Jessie denied success, she's deprived of the chance to be pretty in a realm where nothing but that carries weight.

Worse, given how her face disintegrated, this is the best she's been for five generations.

Yeah, because the inbred milkmaid style is such a good look, eh?

SEXAY!!!

8. So Long, Tsundere

Remember tsunderes? What happened to 'em?

The curse of Pokémon was draining the well of inspiration too quickly, throwing away interesting characters as mere guests.

This is particularly noticeable regarding the ladies. Back then, we got Misty, Jessie, Jessibelle, Cassidy, Aya, Giselle, Tyra, Sabrina, assorted crones Brutella, Nastina and Lacy, plus Joy, Jenny and Dame Ketchum provided parental authority.

How did a series that began with ball-breaking birds like that end up with insipid, glassy-eyed dullards like Zuhreena, Banana Lana, Marsh Mallow and Lilliput?

Ooh, Zuhreena is a pwincess!

Ooh, Banana Lana bwows big bwubbles!

Ooh, Marsh Mallow wuvs phallic waddishes!

Ooh, Lilliput won't pwet wanimals bwecause of Secwet Pain!

Can you imagine such weak specimens finding any place in the anarchic atmosphere of the classics?

It's SO boring!

Where's the punch? Where's the human spirit?

Where's the entertainment gone?

This squishy attitude began in Hoenn. Misty left, Jessie's hair symbolically changed from volcanic red to pink, and Contests introduced a cuddly theme where glitter glue and sequins are top priority.

Every sharp corner, every jagged point has been filed smooth. Now its substance hasn't the hardness to even develop edges, not when it's all cushions and candyfloss, where catching Pokémon rests on them deigning to grant permission, rather than 'avin it out.

Tsunderes, exuding untamed charisma and independence, besides a soupçon of danger, simply don't fit the cardboard box we habit now.

Nor do yanderes, kuuderes, tsuntsuns, or even derederes. It's just nothing but smiley-smiley creeps.

I wouldn't mind any of these tropes as long as there was some sign of colour to be had.

9. The Sacrifice of Misty

Misty bid farewell under the feeble justification that the lack of a longterm goal made her vulnerable to sacking.

Such a line uttered as if her own choice, being beyond them as writers to invent a purpose.

This implied her replacement would have an exciting quest aiming for excellence, something just beyond Misty's capabilities.

What did we get?

Dressing up and collecting Ribbons!

Is that...is that it? Is that the great idea? Is that all the girls are worth?

I lost Misty for THIS?!

Perhaps it makes no difference. By Hoenn they'd rendered her a leaden blandness sucked dry of all that made her special.

Going by the greasy-toothed bastardisation that swanned up in Alola, Misty was simply too wild for the safe, stifling atmosphere of today.

Her departure ensued she remains frozen as a funny, beloved presence, unlike those she left behind.

Now there was a lucky escape, as once the fanny-flapping starts, the bints have it on the brain.

May had Max to beat on the side, but Dawn developed monomania.

Hardly an episode went by without some reference to Contests, or how today's plot spurred her on to the next opportunity.

Yer need help, love!

Rather than Ash's new friend being a fascinating person who so happened to enter vanity projects, the competition defined them to the exclusion of life.

It is but moths drawn to the candle flame waiting to engulf them.

Contests are this world's version of Tom Riddle's diary: they promise sympathy and validation, but they eat your soul.

Like Tumblr.

10. Completely Unoriginal

Seems to me it wasn't so much Misty had no goal, it was more that Contests were the supposedly hot concept wedged into an existing property.

If earlier aspects failed to accommodate the invader, the onus certainly wasn't on the new kid to change. Oh no, stuff it in and chop off whatever gets in the way.

In the eyes of the post-Shudo regime, Misty was too volatile to last, and so had to go.

What idiots.

She's a tsundere. The softer, more feminine side is a defining component.

Would it really have been so problematic to retain her as an entrant? If Jessie can, why not?

Even if failing to fit, so what? Since when was established characterisation a barrier?

Isn't twisting likeable folk into unrecognisable pods the modus operandi of the writers?

That canon is immaterial, and must always give in to whatever fancy they currently have?

Well then, what's the big deal in infantilising Misty to promote it rather than pensioning her off?

Viewers will be more invested in the challenges awaiting a familiar face rather than a stranger.

What reduces the above to the risible is the original Misty and Jessie both participated in the Princess Festival.

All Contests are is that very scenario on repeat and robbed of all meaning.

Think about it:

• Beauty round

• Battle round

• Jessie loses

Same bloody thing.

Not only have I got to suffer this draining spectacle, it's got the nerve to possess not one iota of fresh ideas!

Contests are a low rent rip-off. The Princess Festival had a worthy reward in the shape of one-of-a-kind Dolls.

It'd already been revealed that ordinary Princess Dolls were ruinously expensive, therefore the special Pokémon edition have to be priceless.

What d'yer get for the trouble of a Contest but a bit of plastic tat taped to bargain basement frippery?

And they demand you get five of 'em!

Contests themselves were then resurrected as Showcases, although mercifully slimmed down to only three, with the emptiness ramped up in compensation.

Perhaps ironically, Princess Versus Princess is one of my favourite episodes. I love its critique of female avarice and accurate portrayal of clothing sales as reminiscent of the zombie apocalypse.

I don't mind the Festival as a single adventure, but I may have felt less favourable had it been a constant presence.

Except it isn't the competition at stake. This is a framework to explore Jessie and Misty as people.

Through its device we learn their history and therefore how they came to develop as the girls we know.

The setting serves as an opportunity for both to confront the misery and isolation of their childhoods, with the promise of overcoming that old torment with the balm of victory.

In the final, they aren't so much battling an opponent as fighting to be free of the past.

The tragedy is only one can be granted that reprieve. The other must remain unhappy in the ruins of memory.

It matters, unlike vapid Contests, where posturing is king. What depth can they provide in comparison?

Despite identical content, they are inverse counterparts, with the Festival presented as merely a light affair concealing a rather dark tale of neglect.

Contests however are paraded as this worthy nourishment for body and mind, a major point in one's journey towards enlightenment, when all they really amount to is an organ grinder and his monkey arsing about for the slack-gobbed plebs.

Bread and circuses.

Best of all, Misty won, not some side twat, as it should be.

Note how Jessie dressed: in delicate, vivid robes and golden decoration. The boys thought her beautiful.

Not as a gormless dweeb you'd cross the street to avoid!

And why the need to disguise herself anyway?

The Twerps had no issue with Jessie of Team Rocket joining the fun back then, so what happened?

At least she received the consolation of gaining Lickitung as a friend, with James and Meowth desperate to comfort her.

What do Contests bring? Sod all!

#pokémon #team rocket #contests #misty #jessie #kanto #princess versus princess

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

Arranged Epilogue

Description: Y/N and Yoongi have been through the ringer and they finally have a moment to breathe. They are making up for lost time as they explore an idyllic island together. Who wants to follow them on their honeymoon?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x (f) Reader

Word Count: 4,744

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Chaebol!Au, Company!Au, Arranged Marriage!Au

Warnings: Coarse language, although not frequently

A/N: Ah hello my loves! Here is the epilogue. I’m excited to give you guys some straight fluff!! Like dang, you have suffered enough!! This is a bit shorter than a normal chapter, mostly because there’s no drama haha. So I hope you like it. Just as a little thank you for enjoying the story, and as a send-off for Arranged! I know it’s weird to say goodbye, but we can always explore these characters more through drabbles! Just let me know what you want and I’ll get on it. As always, please send me anything you want! I’ll be without wifi at the coast, so my responses might be a little late since I’ll be on mobile, but please don’t let that stop you from sending me an ask! I truly love talking to you guys. And of course, feel free to message me about any concerns or critique you have. 

ALSO VERY IMPORTANT!

Our next fic will be titled Dissonance and, as you may or may not know, it will star the one and only Kim Taehyung - based on your poll votes! So, keep an eye out on Wednesday for an official introduction and a lil baby spoiler ;). I’m excited to get started!!

–Mercury

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen (END), Epilogue

———————————————————————————————————

“I can’t believe he took me to Tahiti.”

“I can’t believe you’re on the phone with my while you’re in Tahiti.”

I sighed and glared into the cerulean waters outside our floating cabin. I could see a few stray fish playing tag in the ocean’s depth just beyond where I sat, shaded by the thatched roof. I rested on a chaise lounge, phone in hand, sun warming my thighs. 

“He’s sleeping,” I insisted.

Hana gave a rapturous yawn. “Yeah, that’s what I’d like to be doing too.”

“Wait,” I said, then covered my lips with my fingers. “What time is it?”

“Six in the stupid morning,” Hana mumbled.

I blinked a few times. It was only eleven here. I’d completely forgotten the time difference. “Shit! I’m sorry. I’ll go now.”

She laughed. “Go wake up your husband.”

I blushed. “Sleep,” I said before hanging up and wringing my hands. I glanced around me, back towards the island, and saw the lush greenery sway slightly in the ocean breeze. I’d never seen so much beauty in one place, the island’s sharp peaks reaching into the bright blue sky unobstructed by even a single cloud.

Our porch was comfortable and through the gaps in the wood floor I could see bits of ocean water as it waved. I wiggled my toes and smiled. Despite the guilt over being here at all, I couldn’t deny the place’s breezy charm. It was like a living daydream. I took a deep breath of fresh sea air, letting the warmth fill my nostrils, and stood to my feet, padding softly back into the hut. Yoongi slept peacefully on the massive white bed, his arms and legs spread as he lay on his stomach and let out little snores. I smiled fondly at him. 

Quietly, I opened the bamboo blinds, letting more sunlight seep into the room. I heard him groan and smirked. I hated waking him up. That was something I’d learned quickly once we started sleeping in the same bed. Not only was he a total grump most mornings, he was as immovable as a damn rock. Trying to find creative ways to coax him out of bed in the morning had become something of a ritual.

I knew the window wouldn’t be enough. The cabin was already flooded with morning light by nature of its design. I pursed my lips and thought a moment. Then, with a smile, I hopped back into the bed, my pajama shorts bunching as I lay on top of the sleeping man, the whole weight of my body pressed onto his back.

He groaned. “Y/N,” he mumbled, the familiar rasp in his voice causing butterflies to flutter in my stomach.

I chuckled. “Time to get up, lazy boy.”

“They called me Motionless Min in high school you know,” he said, lips pressed into his pillow.

“Yes, I know. You’ve told me. Now rise, my undead servant. Rise,” I said, shacking his shoulders.

He shook his head. “Ten more minutes.”

“That excuse works at home. Not in Tahiti.”

He turned his head so he could look at me through one dark eye, the other half of his face squished onto the pillow. His lips spread in a smirk. “Wait, we’re in Tahiti?”

I smacked his exposed shoulder and sat upright, straddling his back. “Min Yoongi!” I shouted.

He twisted around so he was laying on his back, resting his hands on my thighs with a bright smile. “Min Y/N,” he said lowly.

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not the face of a man ready to go on a jungle hike.”

He laughed. “You’re right.”

I hit his chest lightly. “We’ve been here a day and all we’ve done is sleep,” I complained, my lips forming a pout. It was strange what married life had done to me…

“Hey,” he said softly, hands rubbing my skin. “We’ve done more than sleep.”

“Ew!” I shouted, hopping off of him and stumbling back onto the floor, leaving my lecherous husband laughing in the bed by himself. “You have ten minutes to get ready or I’m throwing you into the ocean!”

Although I did not throw him into the ocean, Yoongi did take longer than ten minutes, despite me breathing down his neck as he lazily brushed his teeth, lazily put on his clothes, lazily styled his hair (which I mentioned on more than one occasion was a waste of time because of the humidity). We ended up leaving the cabin at 11:30 AM, armed with backpacks I packed and a map which I demanded to keep in my possession. 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” I said as he whined about it during our walk to the trailhead from the car we’d rented. “It’s that I trust me more.”

He stuck out his tongue for a second before gently taking hold of my hand and intertwining our fingers with a cheeky grin as we stepped over some exposed roots. “You know what’s better than a long hike in the jungle?” he asked.

I leaned away from him slightly, furrowing my brow. “Don’t say anything that will make me have to really push you into the ocean…,” I warned.

He laughed and planted a soft kiss against my temple. “Resting on the beach. Maybe taking a nap,” he said.

I clenched my jaw and shut my eyes as I struggled to retain my composure. Perhaps because he was wealthy all his life, these amazing places didn’t hold much interest for him anymore. Perhaps he was used to majesty in the world. But to me, this experience was invaluable.

“I’m not gonna waste my time in a place this beautiful by sleeping,” I said, glancing at him. “We have to see it, Yoongi! Do you know how many people would kill to be here?”

He pursed his lips. “We aren’t keeping them from coming here themselves.”

“Most people who want to can’t afford it,” I said softly as we walked along the sand, following the directions I’d found online to the trailhead.

He was quiet as he thought of this for a moment. He took a deep breath as we reached the edge of the forest, just beside a sign marking the beginning of the hike, and gave me a smile. “I’m sorry,” he said.

I raised my brows. “Hm? What for?” I asked.

“Sometimes I forget that I’m fortunate. I’m glad you’re here to remind me,” he said.

I laughed and shook my head. “If nagging is all it takes to get you to appreciate me, I’ll nag more often,” I joked, leaning up towards him and offering a chaste kiss. “We don’t have to do this today if you really don’t want to, you know,” I conceded with a smile. “We can rest on the beach and play with the fish.”

He shook his head, thumb rubbing circles into my hand. “I want to. You’re right. When are we gonna get this chance again?”

I smiled as I tilted my head to the side, examining him from below as the sunlight made a gold halo around his hair. “You’re handsome when you listen to what I say,” I said with a giggle.

He narrowed his eyes at me, but after a moment cracked a smile and swayed our clasped hands. “I’m always handsome,” he said.

“Indisputable,” I teased.

He rolled his eyes. “Quit quoting me and let’s get hiking.”

The canopy of trees seemed to bend and curve around us as we tramped through the undergrowth. We were met at every turn with beauty unparalleled: spectacular views of the water, sweeping expanses of emerald rainforest, steep cliffside stopping points leading impossibly down to the beach. Yoongi complained very little, much to my surprise, and even though both of us were sweating and tired our spirits were remarkably high. The hike wasn’t long or arduous, but his attitude seemed to have changed entirely over the course of our trek. As we dredged ever closer to the elusive promised land of a beautiful waterfall, Yoongi came up behind me and, slowing our speed, wrapped his arms around my torso. The action was awkward as I was still wearing my backpack, and his hands barely made it around to touch my tank top. 

I turned to look at him as we lobbed side to side together, our steps slow and synchronized. “What is it?”

“I’m just…kind of amazed,” he said.

I laughed. “Even the great Min Yoongi can feel overwhelmed by nature sometimes,” I teased.

He chuckled. “Yes. I am a human after all.”

“I’m amazed too,” I said as I glanced around the path, a couple squeezing past us as they walked back the way we came. “It’s really pretty here.”

“And it’s about to get prettier,” he said, pointing ahead.

I followed his pale finger and saw in the distance a hint of waterfall. I was quick to untangle our limbs and jog ahead towards it, Yoongi in tow and laughing behind me as he struggled to keep up. We both slowed to a stop on the cement viewing platform, my mouth agape as I took in the splendor of it. Water cascaded from hundreds of feat overhead, pooling in a plume of mist below us. I laughed in disbelief and turned to Yoongi. His eyes were wide, his smile wider, and his hair was standing at awkward angles, curling slightly from the humidity. I chuckled and took a moment to softly brush a stray hair from his dewy forehead. 

“Yoongi,” I said quietly, grinning up at him.

He wrapped his arms around me and smiled with a tenderness that disarmed me. “Thank you,” he said.

I blushed and shook my head, watching the waterfall reflected in the brown of his eyes. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You got me out here,” he said, fingers rubbing my hips slightly. “That was no easy task.”

I pursed my lips, tilting my head side to side, and shrugged. “A fair point.”

He laughed and gave my forehead a light flick. “I’m trying to be appreciative.” I smiled, settling my arms around his neck and lacing my fingers. “Consider me thoroughly appreciated,” I said, smiling.

“Excuse me?”

Both Yoongi and I turned to see a woman, maybe in her fifties, smiling at us grandly and pointing at the waterfall. “Would you mind taking our photo?” she asked, pointing to a woman around her age, giving us a bashful look. 

I smiled and removed my hands from Yoongi’s shoulders. “Of course,” I said, taking the woman’s expensive digital camera from her outstretched fingertips and lining up the shot as she took a spot against the railing beside the other woman. 

The two wrapped their arms around each other and met eyes and, in an instant, I felt love. It was as if I was glimpsing something very pure and primal. I wondered in a brief haze of selfishness if other people saw that when Yoongi and I looked at each other. I remembered what Jungkook had said about the way I looked at Yoongi all that time ago. I shook my head a little to gather my thoughts and smiled as the first woman pressed a kiss to the second woman’s cheek. 

“One! Two! Three!” I called, holding my fingers out as I counted before snapping the photo.

The first woman came trotting back and stood beside me as I pulled up the photo. The other woman approached as well, both of them staring over each of my shoulders as we reviewed the picture together. 

“Oh, Rainy, it’s so pretty!” said the first woman with a light smack to my arm.

I chuckled as the other woman, Rainy, gave me a soft smile. “Thank you,” she said. “Cassandra, shouldn’t we let the happy couple have a photo too?” proposed Rainy.

The first woman, apparently Cassandra, gasped and nodded. “Oh of course! How rude of me. Let me take a picture of you two,” she insisted with a grin.

I glanced over my shoulder at Yoongi and he laughed, shrugging. “Um…sure. Here, let me grab my phone,” I said, pulling my backpack around to my side and digging through it I found the device. “Thank you,” I said as I handed it to Cassandra who shook her head at me, dismissing my gratitude with a wave of her hand.

I waited for Yoongi to catch up to me before walking by his side to the edge of the slab, leaning back against the railing. “What kind of pose do you want to do?” I asked.

He met my eyes with a smile and squinted his eyes as he thought. “V sign?”

“Hm,” I said, my brow furrowing. “Maybe a dumb face? Like this?” I asked, pulling my head backwards slightly to produce layers of extra chins.

Yoongi, upon seeing me that way, let out a booming laugh that flitted around the jungle. I laughed with him, our eyes connected as we tried to fight the giggles. “I like that,” he said, still laughing. “But how about just a nice, simple pose?” he said as he snaked an arm around my waist.

I smiled and nodded. “Alright,” I said, then turned to the women who were smiling fondly our way, staring into the phone together. “We’re ready!” I called, angling my body towards Yoongi’s and wrapping an arm around his waist and placing my free hand on his chest. 

“Ready! One!” called Cassandra, flashing her first finger. “Two!” she shouted, and I looked up at Yoongi with a wink. He smiled brighter in response. “Three!” 

We reunited with the couple and, before we could review the photos, they were packing their things, ready to leave. Before they made their departure,

Cassandra approached and gave me a pat on the shoulder. “I took a few so you can choose from them,” she said with a smile.

I nodded. “Thank you!” I called as she and Rainy walked back towards the trail. Then, suddenly alone again, I turned to Yoongi. “Wanna look at them?”

He smirked and came around behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder as I opened my photos. The first one to appear was the most recent one, featuring Yoongi and I posing against the lush, vibrant greenery and the rapidly flowing waterfall. I swiped to the right to see the earlier photos, Yoongi’s hands now wrapped around my torso. The next photo was the two of us adjusting our position, me looking at the ground and Yoongi staring handsomely off into the distance. The last one gave me pause and caused my heart to skip. It was the same frame, the same waterfall, the same dripping foliage and white water, but this time we were laughing, staring at each other, not even touching as we shared a private moment. My eyes were glittering, and Yoongi’s smile was so big it shone out against the mossy backdrop. And, in our eyes, I could see it. I could feel it.

It was love.

I flushed. “Yoongi,” I said.

He kissed my cheek from behind and hummed in response. “Yes?”

“I’m happy.”

He laughed and swayed us a little. “Me too,” he said. “Now let’s get going so we can get some food.”

The sun had trailed to the edge of the horizon, settled neatly where the sky and sea touch. Streaks of lilac, navy, and vibrant red rippled out across the water, reflected from the dome of sky above. Yoongi and I sat quietly, each of us resting on the sandy beach on a blanket. We’d spent the afternoon eating and basking in the sunlight. I really began to understand the Motionless Min nickname, as there were times when I had to check his breathing to make sure he was still alive. At one point, I’d asked Yoongi why he hadn’t moved for thirty minutes, just laying on his back in the sand, to which he replied that he was ‘photosynthesizing.’ 

I sat hugging my knees with a soft smile as the waves came and went, gently lapping at the sand, leaving damp imprints in their place as they receded. The air was warm, and somewhere in the distance I could smell a barbecue. My stomach constricted and offered a low moan. I was grateful to be by the sea, hoping Yoongi may mistake it for a whale’s call and avoid his teasing.

I heard him shuffle at my side, moving around this way and that. Had it finally happened? Had he fallen asleep? Before I could check, something cool was touching my bare arm and I jumped slightly, turning to look at Yoongi with wide eyes. He was sitting upright with an equally surprised expression, in his hand a cling-wrapped roll of kimbap. I furrowed my brow at the thing, then looked back at him.

“Kimbap?” I asked with a smile, musing as he fussed with his fluffy hair.

He shrugged. “I made it last night after you went to sleep. I thought I’d be able to pack my own bag for the hike and surprise you at the waterfall, but you packed for me,” he said, his lips pouted and eyes squinty with drowsiness.

I took the kimbap and unwrapped it, unceremoniously taking a bite to sate my appetite. As I chewed, I held the roll out to Yoongi and he, in turn, took a bite straight from my hand. I laughed. “I’m sorry,” I said.

He met my eyes and shook his head. “Why?”

“For pushing you today and making you feel bad,” I said as I took another bite of kimbap. He’d prepared this the night before, meaning he’d always intended to go on the hike. I pursed my lips. “I think I feel…a little guilty being here.”

He took his bite and chewed quietly. “Mm,” he hummed.

“Some old insecurities are coming up,” I said, meeting his sleepy eyes, his sun-flushed cheeks, his messy hair. “Sometimes I feel like we don’t really understand each other.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You do?”

I nodded slowly. “Just because…I don’t know, the way we grew up, the worlds we were a part of…they’re just really different.”

“Funny,” he said with a soft smile as I chewed. “That’s what I like most about our relationship.”

“Hm?” I asked, surprised.

He shrugged. “We’re different. We have different perspectives,” he said. “That means we can both learn a lot from each other.”

My cheeks warmed. “I guess…I didn’t really think of it that way before.”

“Well, being in an echo-chamber doesn’t really help you grow does it? It’s good to get new perspectives. Like today with you. The hike was a lot more fun than I thought it would be,” he said.

I chuckled. “Well, to be fair just sitting on the beach with you has been really nice too.”

“See?” he said, scooting closer so our thighs touched and taking a hearty bite of kimbap. “We both learned something.”

I nodded, resting my head against his warm shoulder. He chuckled beside me as the kimbap slouched in my hand. “Why do I feel like we’re some campy PBS show or something?” I asked.

“See kids?” he said with a nudge. “Even two people who seem really different can be friends!”

I groaned. “Stop it. You’re ruining Tahiti.”

He laughed boisterously and nodded, ruffling my hair with his cheek. “Hand me the kimbap,” he said, taking the food from my hand and chomping down.

The sky was black and full of uncountable stars, shimmering in the night. The water which I heard splashing the support beams of our cabin was no more than a navy blue mass outside, the peaks of waves sometimes catching the moonlight just right and glittering like a mirror of the stars above. Inside, I could vaguely hear Yoongi humming in the shower. Our hut was filled with warm yellow light, filtering out onto the deck on which I sat, staring once again at my phone. So much had happened that day, so much that I wanted to tell Hana and the others about.

Hana had insisted that we create a group chat for her, Namjoon, Jungkook, and me so we could stay in touch while we all went our own ways. Jungkook in Busan, me in Tahiti, Hana at work, and Namjoon at the company: I had to admit it was a good idea. Although the group chat had been significantly more lively than I’d anticipated, and it was rare that my phone was quiet these days. Tonight, however, I was really grateful for it. I still felt guilty for the privilege of being in such a lavish place, but sharing it with people who couldn’t be here too made me feel a little better. I reached out to the chat in the middle of a conversation about about the best food stall in Hongdae.

Meme Squad: Jungkook: Alright, listen. You can think the tteokbokki place is better, but know that your opinion is inferior and I hate you. Hana: And the hotteok place is better? With their oily-ass sweet bread? You’re wild. Namjoon: Me, an intellectual: the odeng stall is the best. Jungkook: YOU’RE CRIMINALLY INSANE! Hana: YOU’RE NOT EVEN IN THE CITY! Y/N: Wow, hello. Hana: Y/N!! Y/N: Hana!! Hana: How’s Tahiti? Sorry I was crabby this morning lol. Y/N: No I woke you up at the ass-crack of dawn, that’s on me. Y/N: And Tahiti is great! I have a photo to send if you guys want it. Jungkook: I also have a photo! I met up with my friend from Busan today and we went to the beach. Y/N: Oh! What friend? Jungkook: His name is Jimin. We used to play together. Hana: Haha…lame… Namjoon: Jungkook, that sounds fun. Namjoon: And Y/N, I’ve heard Tahiti sunsets are the best! Y/N: They are. We ate kimbap on the beach while watching the sunset. Hana: How…romantic? Y/N: It was nicer than it sounds. Jungkook: Hana why must you hurt me this way? Hana: Idk. For some reason I just wanna bully you. Jungkook: (;¬_¬) Namjoon: Anyway, let’s see Y/N’s photo first, yeah? Y/N: Thank God for Namjoon keeping this group chat on track… Namjoon: Someone has to.

I exited the chat for a moment to flick through my photos. I had pictures of the rainforest from our hike, pictures of Yoongi resting with a towel on his head on the beach, pictures of the sunset. But one photo stood out to me. Yoongi and I, standing against the railing of the concrete viewing slab, the waterfall raging behind us, both of us smiling as we looked at each other. Just seeing the photo caused a swell of warmth to flood through my body. 

Y/N: [Image Attached] Hana: Oh my God! THAT’S SO PRETTY WTF!! Y/N: Haha yeah it was really beautiful. Namjoon: That’s a great photo. Y/N: Thank you :’) Jungkook: You guys look really happy. Y/N: We are. Thanks, Kook. Jungkook: ⊂( ・ ̫・)⊃ Hana: Oh my GOD can you stop with those? Y/N: I think they’re kinda cute… Jungkook: Now for my photo. Hana, feel free to not look if you’re gonna drag me. Hana: All the more reason to look… Jungkook: [Image Attached] Jungkook: The guy with the orange hair is Jimin and we went to the beach we used to go to when we were kids. It was really fun! Namjoon: Aw! That looks nice! Y/N: Kook, that’s a great photo. Jungkook: Yeah, I’m thinking about putting it into a portfolio. Y/N: Do it! Jungkook: (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑ Hana: For the love of God, I was about to compliment your picture but you forced my hand… Hana: STOP SENDING THOSE DUMB ASS EMOTICONS I AM REALLY ABOUT TO BUST THIS MUST STOP I WILL KICK YOU FROM THE GC I REALLY WILL YOU MANCHILD LAST WARNING!! Hana: I feel better now. Jungkook: (´;︵;`) Hana: BJKJDNNMRGOIGNK

I chuckled, covering my lips with my hand so as not to disturb any of the other huts nearby and, as I did, I could hear the water shut off inside and quickly stood to my feet, locking my phone and entering the warm cabin as Yoongi emerged from the bathroom with a towel on his head obscuring his face, dressed in his cozy flannel pajamas. He fluffed his hair with the towel, coaxing it to dry, before pulling it off and giving me a bright smile. I walked near him, placing my phone on the small table by our window and crossed my arms in front of him, narrowing my eyes.

“What’s that look about?” he asked with a laugh.

I tilted my head to the side, still staring up at him. “Hm…”

“What?” he whined, tossing his towel in the hamper.

“I’ve decided,” I said.

“Decided what?” he asked, laughing.

I smiled. “Island life suits you. We can’t leave.”

His eyes went wide and then he tossed his head back with laughter. “God, you had me worried.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He was glowing, eyes twinkling, smile bright. “Hey,” I said, raising a hand to his cheek and tracing my finger along his skin. “You got some color!”

“Don’t say that like you’re so surprised,” he mumbled, still smiling.

“I am surprised!” I teased with a laugh. “Here I thought I’d married a ghost, you were so pale.”

“Oh?” he asked, smirking with a sudden glint of mischief in his eyes. “You’re poking fun at me now? Your loving husband?” he asked, quickly grabbing me by the waist and tossing half of my body over his shoulder. 

I shouted. “Put me down!” I screamed through laughter.

“No! You said you were gonna throw me into the ocean, now I’m gonna throw you in!” he yelled in response.

But before he could get to the back deck he changed course and tossed me lightly onto the bed with a creak. I laughed as my body bounced a few times before he came tumbling down on top of me. Part of me wondered if he was initiating something, but the second his form collided with mine I knew he was only playing. Because as he hovered over me, he suddenly dropped himself entirely, letting his full weight rest on top of me. He giggled loudly, a high-pitched squeal, as I writhed under him, struggling to free myself.

“Yoongi!” I shouted.

He laughed and spread his arms and legs wide like a starfish. “Take it back!”

“Take what back?” 

“Take back what you said about me being a ghost!”

“No!” I shouted, laughing.

He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and glared down at me. “Take it back,” he said, a warning in his tone.

I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing and fought a smile. “Nuh-uh.”

“Y/N,” he said, giving me a stern look.

I shook my head. “Yoongi,” I said, imitating his tone.

He tried to hold it in, but his lips spread in a smile and he sighed, letting his head dip and his damp hairs tickled my nose. “You’re such a brat. Why do I hang out with you?” 

“I really don’t know either,” I said, laughing. 

He smiled, meeting my eyes and leaning down towards me. I shut my eyes as our lips met and, slowly, my hands smoother over his shoulders to clasp behind his neck. He lowered himself slightly so we could be closer and I bent my arms at the elbows, holding him in place. His lips were hot against mine, and his touches left fiery trails behind them as they trailed my skin, finding the bottom of my tank top and playing with the hem of my shorts. 

And then he leaned back, eyes heavy-lidded as he looked down at me. “I love you, you know,” he said, voice low and gravelly.

I smiled and nodded. “I love you too.”

He smiled. “Still not gonna take it back?”

“Nope.”

He rolled his eyes and leaned down to kiss me once more, stretching a hand over my head past my ear to flick off the bedside lamp, plunging our cabin into warm darkness, the sound of waves ushering us into the night.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #yoongi fanfic #bts reactions #bts au #bangtan #arranged bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts scenarios #bts reader insert

[suledxn-blog]

LITTLE CHARACTER THINGS

Just a fun little character game. Fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by. Repost & tag away!

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS: 01.   Pride 02.   Compassion 03.   Curiosity 04.   Anger 05.   Calm

GREETINGS: 01.   Calm, head bowing. “Hello.” 02.   “Andaran atishan, lethal’lin/len/lan.” A smile on her face, eyes curious. 03.   A look, watchful gaze. A smile on her face that doesn’t reach her eyes. She says nothing, only expects things to be said by the other. 04.   Hands clasped behind her back, back straight. No smile. No read of her emotions anywhere. “Greetings.”  05.  Brow raised, feet on the table in front of her & her chair leaned back. “Ya want somethin’?”

COLORS: 01.   Green of any shade. But, she enjoys seeing the brighter greens. The color reminds her of the forest, of her home and her roots.   02.   Black. It doesn’t stain. It makes her hair pop. It makes her eyes glow. At least that’s what someone told her once. But, Revas also enjoys being able to blend into the shadows now and then. 03.   Golds. Shimmering, shining like the sun. Hopeful but powerful. She wishes her eyes were this color, but it more so reflects what some say about her heart. Golden to the core with too much love and care for her people.

SCENTS: 01.   Scorpion Grasses 02.   Moist, fresh soil. 03.   Smoke & ash.  04.   Fresh cut wood.

CLOTHING: 01.   Flowing coat, leather straps around her wrists with “Justice” & “Mercy” stitched in elvhen along them. 02.   Tall boots with a thick heel. A few buckles over them. 03.   Wrapped cloth around her waist, forming a loose skirt.  04.   Another wrapping of cloth around her chest, leather corset binding it to her form.  05.   A thick choker that flows from under her jaw to over her collar bone. At the front is a small skull, and feathers hanging from other points. 

OBJECTS: 01.   An iron bark staff. Leather coils around it as if apart of the bark itself but only where she holds it. A skull, canine in nature (missing its lower jaw), sits a top of it with wooden tendrils wrapping around and through it. And a blade, narrow but double edged, sticks out from it, jutting out at the end and digging into the dirt often. It is a thicker staff, weighted and heavy but balanced. It towers over her, standing at roughly 7 feet (with the skull.) In the open spaces, theres carvings. Words in elvhen that tell a story of the dread wolf, but ones of hope as well. Of course, this staff is her personal one and its design is made only for her. Crafted by Faron, he named it  Emitha'navir. To embrace death. 02.  A ring, iron bark woven with gold. A single gem sits in the center, surrounded by twists of silver. It is thin, wire like. It does not hold any engravings, no name. It is simply a family heirloom given to the dreamers of her mothers family. Her grandmother gave it to her. She told her that it could be made an offering to Falon’din, for safe harbor in his realm.  03.  Herbs for sleep &  a pipe. While she indulges in smoking elf root, Revas also tends to smoke other herbs to induce her sleep.  04.   A scroll case full of her notes, maps, & various other papers. Generally kept at her waist, or the small of her back.

VICES / BAD HABITS: 01.   Quick to anger. Easily enraged. 02.   Prideful attitude. To a certain point of arrogance. 03.   Drinking to forget or remember. She doesn’t know anymore. It’s not so much a problem usually, but it is certainly a way of coping. 04.   Manipulation of some. Forming trusting bonds for her own gains, even at the cost of lying to those around her.  05.   Hyper-focus. If she’s working or fighting, she generally tends to focus on the subject at hand till it is finished. Neglecting her self care if able.

BODY LANGUAGE: 01.   Regal almost. Poised with an air that demands respect, no matter your origin. 02.   Rigid, hands clasped at her back. Standing like a general over an army. A teacher with their student.  03.   Relaxed muscular arms flowing, moving to tell a story. Her torso moves just as fluid as her arms. 04.   Bouncing whether in place or on the move. Arms swinging free, or tucked at her back loosely.  05.   Muscles flex in her arms, crossed over her chest. Standing tall, imposing, and not willing to back down.

AESTHETICS: 01.   Mountains reaching beyond the clouds. Seas of green in their valleys. Clouds that roll off the sides, weaving between the trees. An open view of all that below from the peak. Sun setting behind the mountains, creating a shimmer to the mountain sides.  02.   Waves crashing against the stone shore. Beaches stretching into cities and harbors. Warm colors decorating the walls of stone, bright and defiant against the gray seas. Gold shimmering off dark skins, smiles and laughs flowing with the sound of the water. Tall men & women with gold and silver coiling around their arms and throats, horns painted with bright orange or yellow. Fish being thrown between merchants. Ships rocking at the docks. A place that feels like a home she’s always known.  03.   Brightly colored flowers moving with the winds. Bright flowers that emerge from the snow, refusing to wilt away or finding new life. Herbs that crawl along stone pillars, perhaps as old as the stone itself. Glowing mushrooms in dark caves, lyrium singing through them. Life that defies the odds and adapts to it.  04.   Heat waves dancing along her fingers. Ashes floating through the air. The flicker of flame before it blazes along her arms. The way it warms but never burns.  The way it scorches the ground, licking at bodies that aren’t hers. The way energy dazzles in the air, drifting with an electric feeling. Waiting and rolling in dark thunderheads. The bolt of energy that courses through her, bright white dancing sparks that strike down from dark skies. Frost that clings to dark leather. Frozen spikes that jut off of her armor. The haze of the frost slowing the blows to her chest. Element dancing, dazzling, and destroying. 05.   Blood dripping from tangled branches. Throats pinned to the ground by large roots, coiling and crushing. Cracks of bone. Crunch of metal. Gasps for life. Waves of energy flooding through the ground around them, leaving corpses in its wake. Roots, grass, and even tree trunks, pulling the corpses through whether into themselves or into the dirt. Living and thriving, feasting on the body’s she’s given them. Nature growing over scorches earth, her magic stronger than their powders. Dead grass turning green as she walks. Thriving plants shriveling as she weeps. The control of the world around her, with whatever cost to herself. 

SONGS: 01.   Hellhounds - Shawn James  02.   Through the Valley - Shawn James 03.   I of The Storm - Of Monsters & Men   04.   Crystals - Of Monsters and Men 05.   The Light - Disturbed 

TAGGED:    @dalathin​ i mean not really but i took it from u i think

#long post #blood mention #;; I BUILT THIS PLACE ( about ) #well this was fun

[sayitaintdoe]

it is the day before d-day, and theodora graham has made her descent into san francisco, and i have to remind myself when the notification goes off on my phone, like, six times that teddy is married now and doesn’t need me showing up at the airport with bells on to pick her up from her last great adventure.

which is probably for the best, considering i’m already running late for work as it is.  but that is really just a technical detail more than it is anything else.  late, schmate, am i right?

okay, not right, because my friend syd will murder me if i don’t start actually, like, showing up on time (or at all, really, but i do at least tend to usually have the decency to show up if nothing else).

my car, an old and sputtering and wheezing volkswagen beetle far past her prime (talulah, if you must know), creeks up into my designated parking spot, but she doesn’t make a cute little BEEP! when i lock her so much as she makes a sad, miserable boop.  a “please put me out of my misery and put some of your grubhub money toward a new car, dumbass.”

i ignore this, hiking my bag up my shoulder and heading through the front doors of grove & joy, the eclectic little hipster paradise of a salon and pop-up shop my friends syd and joy own.

see, this is my thing.  everyone i consider a friend is between the ages of 23 and 30, and i just want to know, why it is that i am the only one who doesn’t have a single goddamn clue what i’m going to do with my life.  like, we’re talking nothing.  nada.  i am wandering around perfectly content to run the fucking register at this joint so long as my friends are around.  and everyone else is off getting married and (god forbid) getting pregnant and having, like, grown up jobs.

and then there’s me.   square peg, round hole, trying not to be one of those millennials that every dumbass article complains about but then wondering what is so wrong with liking avocados in the first place, bob from kansas city?

i’m losing track of my point.

and whatever point i’m trying to make (is there one?) is soon enough derailed by a flurry of rainbow sherbet arms and tiny, slim arms wrapping tight around me.  “you’re on time!” every time joy announces something, she announces it with a giggle.

“even a broken clock is right twice a day,” i reply, getting in my daily dad joke for the hour (okay, the half hour), and dropping my bag to the floor behind the front counter.  “what’d i miss?”

her hand rests at her hip, head tilted to the side before her face lights up, a second later.  and from there, she’s nearly pouncing, soaring toward me with her hands quickly finding my shoulders and gripping tight.  “you have a date and you didn’t tell me!”

“oh, do i?”  i pretend to be focusing on my nails, before flashing her a cheeky grin.  “there might be a date happening, yes.”

“with PRESTON?!”

“how much are you bribing him, exactly?”  a second voice, definitely belonging to sydney, pipes up from the back.  i turn my head and can see just enough of the peaks of their newly frosted silver hair poking over the half-wall staring back at me like an early 2000s disney channel character.

i clear my throat, swooping around the corner to approach them, hands propped on my hips.  “for the record, he asked me out.”

well.  now he did.  maybe they won’t mention it to him!

sydney raises their eyebrows back at me, clearly surprised by this.  i just nod eagerly back at them.  “uh huh, yeah.  thats what i thought.  how’s that for bribery?”

“i think it was only a matter of time,” joy chimes out in her singsong voice, pressing a kiss to my cheek and then pressing one to sydney’s.  “i mean, the two of them have been married since middle school.”  pause for laughter.  “remember that time we had to do that flour sack project and—”

for some reason, i feel my cheeks flush, and i quickly swat my hand at the air like that’s going to stop the memory from rolling up, or at the very least, stop the conversation from progressing.

luckily — luckily!  call me zack morris because i am saved by the bell, literally — the door chimes open again, to save me from this conversation, save me from them, stop any of this from going any further, and i turn around for the distraction with my well-trained customer service smile.

but it’s not a customer.  it’s her.

all five-foot-eleven of her, standing tall and willowy.  teddy.

“YOU’RE ACTUALLY HERE IN THE SAME PLACE AS ME IN THE SAME TIME ZONE AS ME CRAZY RICH ASIANS THE REALITY SHOW IS OVER ARE YOU SERIOUS?” i spew out all my words as one long string, throwing myself across the salon and right at her, tackling her into a hug as a client comes in behind her and kennedy sweeps into professional mode, but not before giving her a squeeze on the shoulder.

“i called preston when i landed to make sure where you’d be, i wanted to surprise you!” she hums back in my ear, and married teddy feels the same as single teddy and engaged teddy and broken hearted teddy.  still firm and strong.  just, like, now with this weird big rock on her finger.  sparkling back at me, begging me to look at it.  so, i don’t.  because fuck you, wedding ring.

 “speaking of surprising you…” joy hummed in that teasing, singing voice of hers, looking between teddy and myself and going so far as to wink.  WINK!

teddy blinks back at her, and then she’s looking back at me.  “speaking of?  what did i miss?  and if you hold out on me, i will physically kick your butt, and you know that i can and will win.”

i clear my throat.  “well, first of all.  your goldfish is definitely not dead.”

“so, you just... put a doppelgänger fish in the tank.”

let’s skip ahead.

teddy leans back, taking a sip from her iced coffee and looking at me like it’s the first time she’s ever seen me.  the good news is that she’s somehow thankfully managed to calm down after learning about goldie the first’s most untimely demise.  the bad news is that she’s definitely not going to let go of the fact that i let it slip that in order to speed up the grieving process, preston healed my wounds and drowned my sorrows by asking me on a date.

so, okay, yeah, i just keep adding onto the story - but that’s what makes it so interesting.  it’s the layers that make a cake good, not the flour.

“do you know where he’s taking you?”

is it weird that i haven’t thought about it?  like, any of it?  but where is he taking me?  why does he have to decide where we go?  it’s 2018 and i have good taste and this was all my idea anyway, so shouldn’t i get to have a say in where we go?

will it be different than every other time we’ve gotten dinner together?  we’ve done some very... how you say, couple-like things when we’ve grabbed dinner together before, but is this different?

holy shit.

am i going on a date?  with preston?

“doe?  you okay?  you look pale.”

i am brought back to grove & joy, back to teddy watching me cautiously and a stream of customers filtering in around us.  

“somewhere with a violinist,” i blurt out, recalling something i remember preston telling me the other morning when i was slipping out from under his covers.  “and no peanuts.  otherwise brady can’t have any leftovers.”

a date with preston.

a date with preston.

going out with preston in a date-like environment where we’re supposed to pretend to be a couple and it’s weird because we don’t do that and what the fuck was i thinking and why did i suggest it you IDIOT

it’s late now.  not so late that kat will pull dramatics if i stumble into the apartment in the dark, but late enough that i know preston’s not doing anything else (he couldn’t possibly), and somehow that’s all i need to know.

despite everything, despite feeling some weird twist in my gut telling me this is most likely all going to blow up in my face (it’s bound to), i still find myself reaching for my phone as i skip the usual route to my apartment in favor of the turn for his, pulling up in front of his building and slipping in without a word.

i know brady and stevie enough to know better than to disturb them, so i go for my spare key that isn’t so much a spare key as it is i stole preston’s and had my own copy made, and i let myself in.

every closed door has a glow coming through the cracks, and i can hear the obnoxious late eighties hip hop wafting out of preston’s room when i twist open the door.

my jacket’s off before the door is shut behind me, followed by my shoes, and then my top.  my fingers are working to my jeans and then suddenly his hands are there, replacing mine, charting out territory he’s mapped many tones before, and his lips are meeting mine, and he’s dragging me in and i’m letting him.

“hello, lover boy,” i tease against his mouth, hearing his half-laugh, half-whine of a “don’t ruin this” that’s returned to me.

and it’s funny, this thing about us.

one of us is always waiting for the other, always expecting the other to show up.  it’s always an extended invitation, an exclusive welcome mat.

and most of the time, we accept it.

this is what i want to focus on: his lips on mine and my hands quickly working off his shirt and his stupid spongebob squarepants boxers, us tripping over each other on the way back to his bed, but him catching me before my head hits the mattress without him like some freaking john mayer song.  because we’re best friends, and that’s what it means to be best friends.  you catch each other, right?

this is the here and the now.  and this is way less stressful than the storm building up in my head for no goddamn reason.

so i let it take me.

#007 #~