#as a kid i cannot FATHOM just... leaving the house whenever i want

[infizero]

fucked up how once im an adult i could just like..... leave the house at night. like i could just be up at midnight and be like “damn i want mcdonalds” and go to mcdonalds........ shit’s crazy

#as a kid i cannot FATHOM just... leaving the house whenever i want #thats bananas to me lmao #serena.txt #self rb

[miekasa]

any spare levi headcanons tonight????? 😁😁😁😁

Sure, why not, he is the love of my life after all. These are pretty random, and fit in some sort of generalized modern boyfriend au. Hopelessly domestic, as that is the nature of nearly everything I write for Levi, anyway. Also still terribly obsessed with the idea of him with a motorcycle, so there’s that.

He owns at least six black blazers. They’re nearly identical; slight differences in texture and cut, one with lapels, one that’s boldly all leather that you swear you’ve never seen him wear. They’re kind of his go-to staple, other than a sweater.

That being said, he doesn’t exclusively wear all black. His closet leans towards more neutrals, sure, but he’s not allergic to color. You might not catch him wearing neon orange on the average day, but he’s not averse to a nice shade of green, any shade of purple that suits his mood, even a softer pink.

He has towels and rags he sets aside especially for you when he comes over. He always washes them and put them back in place when you leave so that they’re ready to go for next time.

Claims to not have any attachment to the shows/dramas you watch, but he’s totally backseat watching. Halfway into every single series, he starts sitting down when you turn it on, and scoffs at dumb decisions the characters make.

He splurged on one of those frame TVs that look like a painting when they’re idle. It was a good investment in his opinion.

He doesn’t hate Starbucks drinks—there’s worse things out there in terms of quality of tea. What he despises about the establishment is the way they call out names for you to pick up your order. He’s learned that mobile order ahead is the way to go.

Has slippers for around the house, so consequently, you have slippers for walking around his house. He keeps both pairs (and a few extra for friends and guests) tucked neatly beside the door for easy access; yours always go next to his.

Does not understand the purpose of a robe. Buy him one tho and he will suddenly find an excuse to wear it: making breakfast, lounging around watching TV, doing some light cleaning and dusting. It’s comfy, alright, he can admit that much.

The little puppy you got him that he swore he was not going to warm up to now gets the royal treatment. The best doggie goods and treats, top rated shampoos, cutest drying towels, even a miniature couch he constructed just for the pup. They’re best friends, there’s no breaking that bond now.

Speaking of the puppy, affectionately named Captain, Levi can be found walking him every day shortly after work. They have a few different routes, but they always pass by the local vendors/market, who enthusiastically anticipate their appearance every day. Some of the older ladies running stands have even taken to bringing a few treats with them for Captain—after bundling up some goods for Levi, too, of course.

Captain also has a special doggy backpack Levi uses for when he’s on his motorcycle. If you follow anybody on TikTok in his area, you’re bound to see at least one video of the pup while Levi’s out riding. He’s become viral on social media without even knowing it.

(When you show him a video someone posted of him and Captain with well over 100k likes, and a million views, he only rolled his eyes. But remembers that particularly day; remembers the folks had a kid who politely asked to pet the dog, so he let him. He also maybe asks you to send the link to him).

On the subject of the motorcycle, there was a good few weeks he wouldn’t let you on it. Always found an excuse, a smart reply that was punctuated with gentle push on your forehead and calling you too clumsy for it. Later, you found out it’s because he’d ordered you a helmet; didn’t want to risk you riding without one.

He always keeps it in the storage compartment should he make a stop to pick you up while he’s riding; and he usually wears at least two layers to have a spare to wrap you in before you get on.

When he cooks, he always makes sure there’s enough for leftovers and/or to give you some later. He also bakes frequently, and at least once a week, he stops by with some kind of treat for you—“Trying out a new recipe, let me know if you think it’s missing anything.”

On the subject of food, he won’t police what you eat to annoying extent; he knows that not everybody has the time or will to make pasta from scratch like he does. But, he will smack your wrist if you consider ordering fast food when you’re over at this place. Give him 30 minutes and a single pan, he’ll make something much better than whatever you can find on Uber Eats.

Really, though, he doesn’t mean to obnoxious about the homemade food thing, it’s more habit for him. Growing up, he had to learn to be resourceful, so buying fast-food isn’t ever at the forefront of his mind. Cooking for you also turns out to be something somewhat intimate that he enjoys, so just let him.

Once bought an Apple Watch because he liked the look of them, it wasn’t insanely expensive like other high end watches, and it could connect to his other devices, so why not? A week later he returned it, the ping of his notifications were in one too many places for his liking.

You tried to convince him to keep it—“At least for when you’re jogging! It can track your activity and calories!”—but he clicks his teeth. He’ll survive without keeping track of them.

He learned the hard way that jogging with Captain is no good. His legs are too tiny and Levi ended up carrying the puppy the entire time. Captain is more of a walk dog… or ride on the back of his bike dog.

If you changed anything in his phone settings—like the ringtone for you contact, or the sound his keyboard makes—he wouldn’t go back in and try to figure out how to reset it. Unless it was something obnoxious, like adding an autocorrect shortcut to say something lewd.

He doesn’t really listen to music when he’s just walking. When he’s on a run, that’s fine, but he somewhat prefers to just… hear the environment around him when he’s on a stroll or a break from work. The only reason he’d have headphones on in public is to take a phone call, but even then, he’d prefer to wait until he’s somewhere more private.

He likes having you over at his apartment and has contemplated asking you to move in. He doesn’t want to rush anything, though, so he’s content with your sleepovers for now. (Though he really cannot fathom that you call them “sleepovers” like you’re 14. Please).

He speaks to his mother at least once a week, and she always asks about you. Levi tells her that you’re fine, gives her small updates about you, but Kuchel really just wants to know when the wedding is. He pretends to be busy whenever she starts asking and conveniently ends the call.

Occasionally, he’ll stop by and take you out for lunch. Depends on how much time he has during the day for himself, but he always enjoys sharing a meal with you.

Whenever you’re out with your friends drinking, Levi will pick you up. Even if you already told him that you’d Uber home; as soon as you text him that you’re going to leave soon, he’s already on his way.

He makes pretty good cocktails himself. Teases you for running his alcohol supply dry when the truth is he has more of your favorites in his cabinet than his own. He secretly likes the way you flirt with him when you’re tipsy.

You don’t always cuddle on top of each other when you sleep together. You can just lay by each other and that’s enough; but sometimes, you catch Levi turning towards you in his sleep, reaching for your hand. His body seems to search for yours subconsciously, and you swear there’s a hint of a smile on his sleeping face when you put your hand within reach.

Do not try to pay for dinner when you’re out with him. He’ll pull the “I’m going to use the restroom” move and pay the bill behind your back if he needs to. Open your own doors, maybe; pull out your own chairs, sure if you want; but not this.

He flosses very diligently every night. Mostly because he fucking hates the dentist, so if he takes the extra steps and is extra careful with his teeth, he doesn’t have to go as often, right?—Wrong, it’s the one time the roles are reversed, and you and Hange have to wrestle him into the doctor’s office.

On the flip side, if there are any doctors you routinely avoid and/or forget to schedule check ups for, fear not, because Levi will do it for you. He’ll drive you there, too—the only caveat being, that he usually doesn’t tell you where you’re going until you’re almost there. You think he’s doing the mysterious man surprise date thing and then boom, he’s pulling up to the ophthalmologist. Good luck.

He’s purchased a physical, paper copy of the news on every one of your anniversaries, birthdays, and other special occasions. He keeps them all neatly tucked away in a drawer. Sometimes, he looks back on them—sees what was happening in the world around you on that day. Maybe someday he’ll cut them up and bind them together in a book for you.

He doesn’t like having headphones in when you’re home with him, and preferred if you didn’t either—unless it was for work or school. He welcomes you to use his speakers and play your music aloud; he likes listening to what you listen to. If you look closely, you can catch him humming along or tapping his foot when he really likes a song.

Saves pictures you send him in an album in his camera roll. Occasionally can be found scrolling through them—particularly if you’ve been away on a trip, or he hasn’t gotten the chance to see you because of conflicting schedules.

He takes relatively short showers and doesn’t have a strong preference for the water temperature, so he lets you shower first. Unless you want him to join you, of course.

It’s not hard to tell when Levi wants you. He becomes noticeably more touchy, even if that margin isn’t too wide by anyone else’s standards; and he rarely tries to hide it. It only happens in the privacy of your apartments; but he’ll come on to you—leaning a bit further into conversations, a hand on your knee, a kind of cloudy look in his eyes.

Sometimes he forgoes the attempts at being subtle, just kisses you out the blue, carefully backs you up against the wall, puts his hands on your hips. He can be awfully direct when given the opportunity.

#anonymous #[dreamy sight] levi where art thou levi.......... i am yearning deeply #levi x reader #aot x reader #levi smut #levi fluff #snk x reader #aot imagines

[cherryblossomriot]

i had a dream the other day that was basically a dinluke cowboy au and it has been HAUNTING me, so just allow me to deposit it upon you like my subconscious drop kicked it onto me:

Luke is a disabled veteran who has returned from war one hand lighter and several scars heavier. When he returns, his family, who are heavily involved in the politics/military of this fictional land, don’t understand his now jaded and melancholic view of both the world, but also the ideologies that they so strongly believe in, leading him to constantly feel like an outcast even among the people that he so dearly loves. They’re all passionate and strong-willed, but they still don’t understand, not his struggles with mental health or his new perspective, and it just makes things worse and worse and worse. Anakin is a general, and though he’s seen the gruesomeness of war firsthand, he’s also become desensitized to it and has anger-management issues, so he often almost finds a sort of refuge within the chaos of battle, so he clearly cannot even fathom the emotions and trauma that Luke is trying to sort through, much less know how to deal with them properly. Padme is a senator and cares deeply about the crimes and seemingly senseless violence occurring during the war, but she’s also a politician and knows how to play the long game, so when Luke comes to her, he leaves feeling misunderstood and pushed aside. Leia is the only one who seemingly understands, as the pair of them have a deep, intrinsic bond, but she doesn’t fully grasp Luke’s moods and doesn’t handle his breakdowns and flashbacks well. So everyone feels a little upset, a little unsettled, and a lot like they don’t understand why and how Luke has changed, which leads to Luke feeling more and more out of place within his own family. The war ends relatively soon after Luke’s return, which leads to parades which leads to awards which leads to balls and banquets, all of which Luke is forced to attend, his heart dragging but his head held high, because he’s an Amidala-Skywalker goddammit, and we have a certain responsibility and image to maintain to the public and everyone who endured so much. So Luke has to sit there through awards and boasts of glory and mentions of battle scars and it goes on and on and on, and he has to smile and bear it and accept the medal that they’re giving him because he did such a great service to his country and-he has a panic attack. A nasty one that leads to him having to flee from a ballroom, and outside to the gardens. Once he’s there, he realizes that he doesn’t want to go back in. At all. So he runs away. He just picks a direction and goes, stealing a car on the way (this is a modern au but also fictional countries because I don’t want to get into real politics, hooo boy no siree). In the middle of nowhere, he gets caught in a storm and basically crashes his car and passes out. 

But when he wakes up! That’s when the fun begins. 

He’s in this cozy sort of bedroom, and this hot guy is fast asleep in the chair beside his bed, and is that a little kid in his lap? Anyway, the hot guy wakes up, introduces himself as Din Djarin in the softest, most attractive voice Luke has ever heard with his own two ears, and doesn’t ask him where he’s from or what he was doing driving in the middle of bumfuck nowhere at 3 in the morning, so Luke is obligated to have a lil crush on him, even though he’s not sure about the kid. So he asks, and Din introduces him to his son Grogu, who waves at him and signs hello, because, as Din explains, he doesn’t speak much, and the foster system wasn’t too kind to him, so he’s got a little bit of trauma to work through. And Luke just, instantly falls in love with this soft dad and his cute little son who can shift his features from the biggest, most pleading puppy eyes ever to the face of a demented gremlin who will try to eat the frog he caught in the backyard, no matter how slimy it is, or how hard it tries to wriggle out of his hands. Din tells Luke that he can stay for however long he needs, because Luke’s kinda injured from his accident, and anyway, once he’s healed up, they always could use another hand on the farm. So Luke stays, and he meets all of Din’s other farm hands (and shitty friends). There’s Boba, who doesn’t talk much, but when he does it’s always something slightly ominous and menacing, and Luke thinks that his name sounds familiar...hey wasn’t he on the news for robbing a couple banks a few years back?...no, surely not..., Fennec, who speaks even less than Boba, and manages to be far, far more intimidating, but also helps Luke with his prosthetic and gives him fun little tips that always sound more like she’s cut off a lot more limbs than she’s lost. Cara Dune (who is not gina carano but i digress) is also there, and she’s just constantly a harbinger of chaos, but will babysit Grogu whenever Din wants to brood and stare longingly into the distance (or at Luke who’s also brooding as the sun sets but shhh). Bo-Katan and the gang are there, and while Bo-Katan grumbles about how the old ranch boss had different/better methods on how to run things, she still follows Din’s lead and helps him with the finances and taxes. They all take to Luke like a wildfire, because Luke is a sunshine boy who can make friends with literally anyone and somehow manages to make Din not only smile but laugh, but also because they can tell he’s got a lot of trauma and pain bubbling just under the surface, and they all silently but collectively agreed a long time ago that they are the patron saints of troubled and lost souls. 

When Luke gets better and starts to help out, he’s constantly upset with himself because he used to help out at his aunt and uncle’s farm in the summers when he was a kid, and he knows how to do this stuff, but his prosthetic is really throwing him off and his body has sustained a lot of other injuries that make doing manual labor a much more different experience than it used to be, but everyone is really patient with him and helps him out, especially Din. At one point, Din is so nice that Luke just loses it, because he doesn’t understand how Din can be so kind and so patient, and care about him so much, and kind of calls himself broken and useless in front of Din, and Din gets super protective and grabs his hands (real and prosthetic) and tells him that he’s not broken or useless, and you’re so sweet and wonderful, and can’t you see? Ever since you’ve been here, everyone’s been so much happier, so much lighter. You’ve brought something precious to us, but most of all to me. And they’re standing really close and for a second Luke thinks Din is going to kiss him, but instead, Luke realizes that he’s crying, and Din just wraps his arms around him and holds him.

After that, time sort of blurs, marked by things like Grogu climbing into Luke’s bed because he sensed that he was having a nightmare, and Din waking up to find the pair of them coloring in a serene silence, Luke getting the hang of ranch life and his prosthetic and dealing with his panic attacks and flashbacks as they come, and Din enduring relentless badgering from his friends because hey, if you don’t marry Luke, I will and Fennec, you’re a lesbian and that doesn’t matter, it’ll be a marriage of twink and butch solidarity. And all the while, Din and Luke are spinning closer and closer towards each other, two suns hurtling in their orbit to the other with an inescapable certainty. 

When it finally happens, they’ve just gotten back from one of those cowboy dances (idk what they’re called...hoedowns? yeah okay) (and yes, I wanted to hit all of the cliches in the book, thank you very much), and Grogu’s fallen fast asleep on Luke’s shoulder. After they tuck him up all snug in his bed, they head out to the porch, because it’s raining outside, and the steady thrum of water droplets splattering on the roof and on the grass is the most soothing sound Luke has ever heard (aside from Din’s voice), and he’s a little too afraid to go to sleep and ruin his perfect night with a nightmare. They stand there for a while, silence binding them together, shoulders brushing every now and then, hesitant and questioning. Luke thinks about how Din had asked him to dance earlier, his lips tilted in a teasing, but achingly soft smile, and how his heart had pounded a tattoo to the shape of his ribs when they’d pushed up so close together, the fast, rowdy dances of the beginning of the night having faded to something lasting, something meaningful. Luke remembers the ball he’d run away from, how the dancing had been cold, almost jeering in a way, and Luke realizes how far he’s come, how different it is here. And suddenly, there isn’t a question in his mind anymore. He turns toward Din, who turns toward him, and when he leans forward, Din breathes an uncertain “Luke-”, but he doesn’t get to finish the thought. Luke kisses him, and he kisses back, and it’s just them. There are hands in hair and noses nudged together, and at some point, they move, without either of them releasing the other, into the house and into Din’s bedroom. Buttons are unbuttoned, and whole stretches of skin are kissed, and when it’s over, they curl up together, Din tucking his head into the crook of Luke’s neck and falling asleep there. 

When they wake up, Luke explains why he came here, why he ran away, all the while Din looks at him with his beautiful dark eyes and runs his hands through Luke’s hair, which is catching the sunlight filtering in through the window and making him look like he has a halo, all the while never once condemning him for keeping it a secret this whole time. After he’s finished, he expects some sort of shocked reaction-after all, his family’s pretty famous, but all Din does is kiss him and ask, “Wait, so you have a twin?” 

It’s so unexpected that Luke throws his head back and bursts into uncontrollable, and very contagious peals of laughter, and when he’s finally able to breathe again, he kisses Din’s forehead and murmurs, “I love you.” 

Din, who has been touch starved and lonely for years (no time for relationships when you’ve got a business to run and a toddler to raise), tears up and kisses him, too overwhelmed for words. But Luke understands.  

And then Grogu pushes his way into the room holding up a box of Frosted Flakes above his head and shaking it, as if to say, I’d like to eat now, please. 

Din and Luke stifle their smiles into the other’s shoulder, and when they get up, Luke can’t help but think that he’s finally where he belongs.

----

It takes approximately .5 seconds for all the others to figure out they’re together now, and Cara and Bo-Katan (of all people) start cheering immediately, to Din and Luke’s shock. Boba and Fennec grumble and begrudgingly hand over a huge wad of cash each to Cara and Bo-Katan because they thought it would take them at least another two weeks to get together. Din’s very done with his friends at this point, but he takes one look at Luke’s flustered but smiling face and decides he won’t kill them all this time. 

And if everyone thought Luke was a lot of excitement for a humble ranch in the middle of nowhere, then they are in no way, shape, or form, prepared for when his very angry twin sister shows up with a himbo with a shit-eating grin and his 7 foot tall best friend she hired to track her brother down. 

(needless to say, Boba punches Han within two minutes of interaction).

#dinluke #dinluke headcanon #dinluke fic #skydalorian #luke skywalker #din djaren #bo-katan kryze #fennec shand #leia organa #they just love each other a lot #and i am but a conduit of that love #Han takes one look at Boba and decides it's his life mission to just annoy the shit out of him #he stays away from fennec though #she's very scary #and she has no time for his dumbass #leia is even more angry and hard to deal with than she usually would be #because not only has her twin brother been missing for like four months #but she has had to deal with han thee peak dumbass solo for at least a week and its driving her insane #Chewwy fits right in #he hangs out with fennec and they go out and shoot cans together #leia hears that luke and din are together now #and she's like #you saw one (1) dilf and couldn't help yourself could you #and din's like #what's a dilf???? #and luke is like #it means you're very hot #and leia rolls her eyes

[write-orflight]

Galileo: Chapter 8

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader, enemies to friends to lovers trope

Rating: M

Words: 2.1K

Warnings:  None, just painfully fluff.

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary:  Y/N  is an astronomer with her head constantly in the stars. But when a   serial killer is threatening NASA’s top scientists, she is left in the   protective custody of a man who’s gravitational pull threatens to pull   her back down to earth. 

A.N: Unedited. Well guys we’re here. I kinda really like how I ended this chapter so IF I do write an Epilogue it’ll be very very small. So for that reason I’m closing the taglist for Galileo. Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. Check out my other fics if you haven’t. And shoot me an inbox saying what you think! much love, Cia.

                                Chapter 8: Pluto 

Life with Spencer wasn’t easier but it sure was better. 

It had been about 9 months now since the two of you started dating and you knew it would be rough. The two of you traveled a lot for work so it was a lot of missed calls, texts, and video chats in the beginning but now you’d say the two of you got a grip on what you both wanted which was each other. Around month 6, Spencer asks you to move in with him. At first you say no, and you keep saying no until around month 8 when Spencer gets shot on the job and you take care of him and just never leave. Not that he was complaining, it was what he’s wanted since Month 2. 

You met the team officially and without impending danger around month 2 as well. Emily and Derek who you already knew through the investigation welcomed you back with open arms and tequila shots at the bar you met them at. JJ took a while to warm up to you which you completely understood from how you left but she warmed up to you when she realized just how much you loved Spencer and how much you regretted pushing him away. 

You and Penelope Garcia got along like a house on fire which everyone expected the two genius women to. Though her sunny, social disposition and your quiet, mellow one didn’t mix on paper pretty soon you guys were trading baked goods and having sleepovers. It was nice, you never had girl friends you could be yourself around but you found that in them. 

Spencer was still Spencer. 

In some ways, he was still the man you met in the observatory of your job, and in some ways he was very different. He was definitely a lot more touchy than you thought he’d be, seemingly unable to be in the same room as you without touching you in some way. Not that that was unwelcome, you loved him all the same. He was still that nerdy guy who whenever he read something or found out something new about your field he’d call you up and immediately to tell you about it. And you would sit and listen intently, never having the heart to tell him it was something you already knew. You liked to hear him talk anyway. 

You still found out a couple of things too. One being that Spencer gets extremely jealous and you found this out around Month 7 of your relationship, your first official fight. He had come to surprise you at work and you were helping the new Doctor hired on the Terra-Mora project get acclimated with the space. You didn’t think anything of the guy other than he was overly friendly but when Spencer came in and saw the fairly attractive man lingering a hand on your back he became livid. 

The car ride home was awkward because you could tell something was up with Spencer though he wasn’t saying anything. “What’s wrong?” You asked. 

“Nothing, bunny.” He says, you can’t help the smile that crosses  your face at the nickname but you knew there was something wrong. 

“Okay so there has to be something up. So out with it.” 

He’s silent for a moment. “How’s working with Dr. Sutton?” 

“Landon?” You ask. He gives you a look when you refer to the man by first name but you choose to ignore it.  “It’s fine. He’s better at math and he’s been nice.” 

“Bet he has.” Spencer mutters under his breath. 

“Ok, what is that?” You ask. 

“Why did you just call him Landon just now?” 

“His name is Landon….?” 

“Every person you work with you refer to as Doctor, you even refer to yourself as Dr. L/N when talking about work.” He points out. “In fact, the only other person you didn’t do that for was Jonathan, who you had feelings for. So why is he ‘Landon’?” 

“He asked me to call him Landon.” You shrug. “You almost sound jealous, Spence.” You can’t help the small chuckle that leaves you when you say it because it was ridiculous to even think about. You loved Spencer. You couldn’t imagine your life without him or even fathom wanting anyone but him but when you saw the look he gave you back when you said it you knew that was exactly the case. 

“You wanna tell me what this is actually about now?” You question. 

“Why didn’t you say I was your boyfriend?” He whispers. 

“What?” You say, confused. You park the car in front of your apartment and turn fully towards Spencer.   

“You didn’t say I was your boyfriend, you called him Landon…” 

“Baby, I didn’t even realize I didn’t do that.” You say, looking into his eyes. “If I did it’s because everyone knows who you are.” You say, cupping the side of his face with one of your hands, he instantly leans into the touch. “My genius boyfriend, who works for the FBI and saved my life. I talk about you constantly because I am happy and proud to be yours. That you still took a chance on me even though I pushed you away and treated you like shit in the beginning. I am never trying to hide you and you have no reason to be jealous because I don’t see anyone else when I’m with you, ok?” You say, Spencer smiles and leans over the center console to kiss you and just like every time Spencer kisses you, you contemplate the likelihood that the earth could stop its rotation because it seemed that the world stood still every time you were together like this.When you pulled away, you leaned your forehead against Spencers for a second, catching your breath. 

“Plus you really have no reason to be jealous.” You add. “Me and Landon spent most of the morning talking about our boyfriends.” 

Spencer looks at you with a wide eyed expression. “You mean, he’s--” 

“Yup.” You cut off. Getting out of the car, Spencer follows you. “You should get jealous more though. It’s kinda hot.” You shrug. Spencer rolls his eyes at you. 

-----------------------------------------------------

     On your one year anniversary, you go to your first date spot which was the Planetarium. You rolled your eyes at the time when Spencer suggested the date saying that you’d both just end up annoying the tour guide. In the end, you ended up with a 16  year old named Anna, who had the same twinkle in her eye when she talked about Space that you had as a child. You ended up shushing Spencer every now and again so you could listen to the young girl tell you about the planets you both knew so much about. At the end of the tour, you told her who you were and that if she wanted an internship at NASA after high school to give you a call. She smiled excitedly at you and hugged you, which you returned before apologizing profusely for hugging you. When you and Spencer were walking to get food after that he asked the question. 

“Do you want kids?” He says. 

“Whoa!” You laugh. “Big ask for a first date.” 

“I’m sorry, you were just so cute with the tour guide that--It’ll come up eventually is all.” 

“I do want kids someday.” You say, smiling at the man. “I never thought it was in the cards for me but I would love kids someday. What about you?” 

“I never thought it was in the cards for me either but I like the idea of having a family.” He says, reaching for your hand. You smile at him again and the topic never comes back up. 

You guys head to the Planetarium again and Anna is still working there, finishing up her senior year. She lets you guys venture around without a guide this time and you and Spencer just sit in the auditorium alone, talking softly at the fake constellations that pass by. 

After, you ask if you guys can skip dinner to go to the observatory just to see if you can get a peak at Gaia tonight as the sky seemed pretty clear. Spencer smiles and obliges you as the two of you head over to your job. The night security guard just nods at the two of you as you walk in, having come accustomed to your late nights and Spencer accompanying you. 

Spencer sits a ways while you set everything up, booting up your computer and positioning your telescope. The two of you settle into a comfortable silence as you often did around each other. You felt slightly bad, it was your anniversary and Spencer was indulging you just like always. He was really way too good for you. You look up at him and smile, which he instantly returns before you turn your attention to the telescope. 

That’s when you see it. 

Gaia. 

Fully visible from earth for the first time in what could have been a millennium. 

You scream out of happiness and Spencer looks up at you raising a brow as you run for your tape recorder.  Gesturing for him to come look. He looks into the telescope as you type into your computer for a second, making sure your telescope was taking the pictures you needed, before speaking into your recorder. 

“This is Dr. Y/N L/N. I am accompanied by Dr. Spencer Reid. The date is April 12th 2014. For the first time ever Planet KXSY-1029 or Alias Gaia is Fully visible from earth!” You turn off the recorder and jump into your boyfriend’s arms. He instantly catches you and spins you around before kissing you fully on your lips. You moan into his mouth slightly as his tongue meets yours but eventually he pulls away but he is still lifting you fully. 

“Do you realize how big tonight is? This is probably the only time anyone in centuries will be able to see her until we actually start human trials and it’s the only time it’ll probably ever be visible from earth and WE were here for it! This is amazing! This night cannot get bette--” 

“Marry me.” Spencer says, looking into your eyes. 

Your eyes widen, as Spencer sets you down on the ground. “What?” You ask. 

“I was going to ask at dinner.” He says pulling a ring out of his jacket pocket and getting down on one knee. You feel tears welling in your eyes. 

“I ruined your whole plan.” You say. 

“No! No, you didn’t. Because seeing you react to seeing Gaia just now reminded me exactly why I wanted to marry you.” Spencer says, grabbing your hands. “Did you know the greek goddess Gaia in creating the earth, gave humans four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. And Zeus, fearing their power, split them in half and that’s where the soulmates come from?” He asks, you shake your head and more tears fall as he rubs small circles with his thumb on the back of your hand. “Y/N, you are the single most caring, passionate, amazing person I know. And if I could go back and change anything about how we met and when we met, I wouldn’t. If I could take away your hurt and tragedy, I would but I feel like everything I’ve ever done, everything that’s ever happened to me, was designed to lead me to you. Meeting you, loving you was the first time in my life I felt truly like myself, like I was half a person until meeting you made me whole again.” He tears up as he looks you in the eyes. “So, Y/N… Will you marry me? Please.” He adds softly. 

You nod fast, tears falling more than they were before as you give him a wet smile. “Yes, Spencer! Of course!” You laugh as Spencer smiles up at you as he slides the ring onto your finger. He gets up and kisses you passionately, hands cradling your face. When you pull apart, he hugs you tightly. You breathe in his scent and look behind him at the images of Gaia on your screens. You thought back to the story Spencer had just told you about soulmates and how before you met Spencer you were just going through the motions of life, feeling incomplete and never knowing what was missing. You seemed to have everything you wanted. Your dream job and life. It wasn’t until being with Spencer you realized what was missing. That he was missing.   

In the end, you were just two halves. 

Made whole by Gaia.  

Taglist: @lokislilslut​ @spencerreidslove​ @evelyncade @ceeellewrites​ @diesinspanishbcimhispanic​ @eevee0722​ @fiftyshadesof-reid​ @cielo1984​ @differentkettleoffishalltogether​ @criminalmindzjunkie​ @bbygirlq2020​ @quillanpie​ @themanwiththreephds​ @itshatertatertotblog​ @bihoeofmanyfandoms​ @baby-i-am-fireproof​ @graciehams​ @no-honey-no​ @capricornmashmallow​ @itsarayofsunshine​ @big-galaxy-chaos​ @findmedontlooseme​ @justanothetfangirl​ @chelseyjoyce​ @starlight-boo​ @artzic​

@sizzlingclamturtlesludge​ @spencerreidlivesrentfreeinmyhead​ @avaryjillian​ @sadassflatass​   @seashantiesforthots

@bauhousewife​ @anotherr-fine-mess @literaturely-a-mess @piggyinapickle

#spencer x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut #bau x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid

[katsukikitten]

So the anniversary of my dad’s death is coming up and I’m in desperate need of a comfort fic or headcanon (idc) where Bakugo finds out s/o’s parent died when they were a kid and they have really bad depression because of it. sry if it’s really specific

Anon I'm sorry to hear of your dad's passing. I'm not sure of your faith and I'm sure you hear this all the time but I believe your dad is looking down on you wanting nothing but the best for you. The dead are always with us, whether it be their souls silently guiding us or in our hearts with their memories. Here is something that will hopefully ease a bit of your pain dear. My dms are always open okay?

Anniversary.

Something was wrong.

Really wrong as your demonor increasingly worsened around the same time of the year.

For the third year in a row.

The ash blonde leans a muscular shoulder in the jam of the door, watching your form curled in on itself beneath the blankets. Stunning eyes staring at your phone as you idly scroll.

Bakugou would say more like staring through your phone as your eyes seem to focus on nothing really at all. The sparkle of joy that sat there was dulled, diminished almost and always around this time of the year.

He just couldn't wrap his head around it despite knowing you so intimately. He was sure he knew everything there was to know about you, from the way your lips curled upward when he said your name in soft tones or when you saw cute baby animals to the way heartfelt family movies had tears running down your cheeks faster than he could react.

Because you surely knew everything about him.

He wasn't sure how to approach this delicate situation.

His heart pounds as he thinks of all the ways his gruff attitude was sure to fuck it all up. Grinding his teeth he leans away from the door shutting it softly as he thinks of the only thing to do.

His thumb hovers over a certain contact in his phone, thinking to call your mother.

But what if...what if that makes the situation even worse? Wouldn't that just make his in law worry?

And worry more that he was a bad husband? Sure the two of you had been dating only a year and a half before he popped the question.

But the moment you soothed the ever hot rage beneath his veins into a small murmur was the moment he knew you were the one.

The other half that he so desperately needed, wanted.

And he wanted to be that for you. To soothe the best he could, to help crush that little demon that sat on your shoulder.

He changes his mind last minute calling an old friend of both his and yours.

"Katsuki! You never call."

"Oi Eiji. I need to ask you something..." His voice comes out harsher than normal still it does not phase the ruby haired man. Long since used to the thorny exterior. He waits patiently for the question to come and when it doesn't Kirishima gives the call his full attention.

"Something's.....wrong?" His gentle giant friend prompts carefully, practically seeing the heated flush creeping up his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

"Yes, with Y/N." He finally sighs out, silently admitting he cannot help you. That he doesn't fucking know HOW to help you. Adding already to the pain of seeing you so....hollow.

"Ah, are they feeling down? It would make sense considering the date." Kirishima says softly, eyes going to the calendar to confirm his theory. Bakugou goes rigid, silently counting to five to ease the malice in his voice.

To no avail.

"What do you mean considering the date?" Kirishima fight back a flinch even over the phone and it dawns on him that maybe you haven't told Bakugou what happened.

"Ah, well..." The red head briefly wages an internal war, was it manly to tell *your* story for you?

Was it right?

Clearly at this point Kiri figured it was probably too hard for you to do so and if the show were on the other foot. If his partner was calling you for better insight to help he'd hope beyond hope you'd tell them for him.

Because he would want nothing more than the comfort from someone he loved the most.

And he figured the same for you.

"Their father passed around this time..." If Kirishima says anything more Bakugou cannot hear it over the blood rushing in his ears. Madder than hell that he did not know.

And not because you didn't tell him, oh no.

Its because he was too stupid to figure it out. To fucking put two and two together.

Finally a word catches Bakugou's attention again before he says a brief thanks hanging up well before the good byes.

It does not take him long to find what he is looking for.

He takes heated steps to your shared bedroom, waltzing through the door with a hammering heart.

"Get up." He bites, pulling the shell of your cocoon away. You whine in protest wanting nothing more than to melt into the mattress until you've become nothing more than stuffing and springs.

But the hot head will not allow it as he bites out another warning. Lying out a quick outfit for you to change into.

Slowly you gather the strength to slip on pants and a shirt over you head. Hair going in every which direction but you do not care.

Or even notice as the weight of the world presses into your shoulders causing them to slump, your chest tight as something gnaws at your slowly dying heart.

Your eyes water as you stare at the back of the man who you so deeply adore.

One day he will be met the same fate, everyone will and the thought of it alone has your knees weak.

Wobbling once more from the weight before you fall to sit on the bed.

Scarlet embers pierce your skin from over his shoulder as he finally finds your brush. Crawling on the bed behind you to tame your unkempt hair. After a few moments he is satisfied with his work of your gorgeous locks finally in the order you like them to be in.

The texture bringing about a bitter sweet feeling on his tongue. You make him so happy and he cannot fathom why you would have kept something so big from him.

But he couldn't fault you for it either. He eases off the bed, hinting for you to follow and when you dont he grabs onto your wrist a yanking you to your feet.

Moving you through the house as you watch him gather odd items. Long spicy sticks and flowers before he slides on his steel toes boots. Glaring at your shoes. You follow easily, slipping them on your feet at the two of you walk what feels like aimlessly for an hour or so.

That is until he makes the last turn making sense of those odd items. Of the incense, of the lillies. You stop dead in your tracks but Bakugou rounds back. Slipping his strong arm around your waist. Pulling you to him as he gently guides you forward.

You cling to him desperately, unsure of how he knows where to go.

Of what row he's in.

But somehow he does. Somehow he figured out the one thing you could never really speak about.

He eyes you to gauge your stability before he rolls up his sleeves, dipping the ladle into a small bucket of water dumping it on the dusty grave.

Shock settles in your bones as you watch taunt muscles scrub away accidental neglect with understanding eyes. Sure to make sure every character was untarnished, the stone polished so nicely you could see the reflection of his burning red eyes.

Of the two suns that always rise even on your darkest days.

A small pop comes from his finger tips before smoke trundles into the air in gray waves and with it the smell of spice and sandalwood. He sets the lillies down for his offering, unsure of what else this great man liked.

Having this been the first time he met him.

You watch as a prideful man places his hands together, bowing his head before his velvety rough voice breaks the silence.

"Thank you."

The building tears burst, spilling over your flushed cheeks like a child. He notices, pulling you to him as he supports you. Nodding towards the grave so you can pay your respects.

And you do, as you cling so desperately to his black shirt. Heart bursting and breaking all at once over this normally rough man.

Doing his best to comfort you during a time so dark you could barely find the will to breath.

But somehow standing here, looking over your father's now shining grave brought a little comfort to you. Pressing your fingers agaisnt the cool stone you almost think you feel his gaze at your back. Hairs sticking up on the base of your neck.

The two of you stand there until the heavily scented stuck burns out, Bakugou silently offers you another. You nod as popping fingers ignite before carefully passing it along to you.

You set it in the burner, stepping back as he wraps his large arms around you. Head resting atop of yours as the sun slowly begins to dip beneath the horizon.

Painting everything in stunning pinks, oranges, and reds.

His lips press to your ear in a kiss softly before he speaks.

"We can leave when you're ready and we can come back whenever you'd like."

Nails bite into strong forearms, somehow things will eventually be okay.

They will eventually be better and in your hearts of hearts you know his soul is resting easy.

Smiling down at you with pride wanting nothing more than for you to live life to the fullest.

And to live on for him.

#bnha comfort #bakugo comfort #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katuski bakugou #bakugou #bnha asks #bnha ask prompt #bnha ask #bnha x reader

[bbnibini]

PSISLY: An Obey Me!CYOA – forty-three🔖

Rain welcomed the night, bringing a cool and gentle breeze. Seasons for drizzles have started in Devildom, spotting the outdated cobblestone streets with puddles and petrichor. Mammon, in his unusually graceful way, held you by the hand and calmly told you to stay under the awning of a closed restaurant nearby as he hunts for a store that sold an umbrella. His search didn’t take long, as you had barely formed any idle thoughts when he, panting softly beside you, offered a flimsy plastic disposable and wiped his wet hair in futility–doing so with an already damp handkerchief was no good, but the weight of your conversation earlier made you hesitate on bringing out your thoughts. You had both been unbelievably silent once you answered his question,

“Do you prefer it if I act like this?”

It was as if your brain went on autopilot when you responded…

[ I don’t like it. ]

(Mammon’s affection+10)

…not missing the slight upwards curve of his lips. You wanted to ask him further, but he had gone contemplative on your walk. The only time he talked to you again in your uncomfortable silence was to ask you if he can hold your hand when both of you felt the first few drops of rain in the sky. He calmly yet bashfully said that he didn’t want you to get wet; that he would run as fast as he could and asked if you could match his strides. He had always been sweet and thoughtful, but it was rare for him to be so direct about it. Even so, you somehow felt that it was still wrong to ask questions back, especially if he seemed to distance from you since your response. His excuse, “I don’t want you to get wet.” made too much sense that you wish it didn’t so you’d have the right to at least be even slightly annoyed with him. Was he such a gentleman tonight! Your heart couldn’t calm down!

His peculiar behaviour did not escape notice upon reaching home. Lucifer wasn’t there when you arrived, but Satan made a good substitute (don’t ever tell him that to his face though) for your usual serving of scoldings. His friendly smiles carried a sinister air to them, his “gentle” inquiries even the more.

“Where have you two been and why are you wet, Mammon?”

You turned to the said demon who remained composed and unflinching. He smiled as if he were ashamed. “They waited for me at my part time job hence my appearance. I apologise.”

Ah. Satan looked as surprised as you were. His handsome and almost unfittingly angelic features drew closer to his elder and scrutinised him with a careful eye. “Are you really Mammon?” he must have been so taken aback to hastily dog ear his book. The usual him would have been inflamed at even the thought. Asmo learned it the hard way when he borrowed a grimoire of curses just a week ago—something something to rid himself of an unwanted suitor. You could hear him now, his representative sin flickering within his emerald eyes with all its wrathful glory:  “Only a barbarian wouldn’t use a bookmark!”

But there was none of that now. Instead, he looked somewhat disturbed. Understandable—you didn’t know what’s going on either.

“The very one.” Mammon replied, fixing the loose spectacles edging away from his nose bridge. “Now, if you excuse me, I shall procure a change of clothes for myself. And…” he turned to you and called your name. “Feel free to eat dinner first. I must clean up the mess I made with my drenched state. I will be back as soon as I could.”

He lied. The empty dinner table now housed a Beelzebub who came to obtain “rations” occasionally, only to be stopped by a still-smiling Satan, sans the book he had been pre-occupied with when you entered the mansion. His nails seemed newly polished–a habit he only practised once he had finished the chores for that night; Asmodeus was an accomodating beautician, more than willing to help Satan finish painting the fingers of his non-dominant hand with his usual artistic flourish. Even so, he still accompanied you to dinner, insisting that he was hungry, and even complied to your request to wait for Mammon who hadn’t shown a shadow of his presence for more than an hour. Both of you exchanged a look of worry. Your stomach voiced out its complaint as well, but you paid it no mind.

“What’s taking him so long?”

Satan didn’t answer. Instead, he insisted you should start eating. The absence of hostility on his features only made you even the more tense; the occasional clinking of your glass, as well as the sound of fork and knife hitting on older-than-your-grandma porcelain not helping on calming you down. Painful minutes have passed with silence, only interrupted by the occasional Beelzebub, rummaging the food that Satan left untouched.

“Is it okay if he takes your dinner?"

Satan made a sound of approval, pretending to be interested in your conversation; but you can see it in his eyes that he was distracted by something. "Anything bothering you?” you asked, causing the glazed look in his eyes to finally disappear. ‘Ah, he’s back’, you could not help but think. “Don’t mind me and eat your food.”

But you minded and you minded a lot. It was unusual for him to be so distracted especially in the presence of someone else. He had always been careful about how he acted in front of others (even to his own family), so whatever was bothering him must be serious. Was it about Mammon? He kept on looking at his empty seat after all. Sighs were heard from his side, brows furrowed for most of dinner. “I’m already finished.” you answered, hoping he’d finally be willing to share his obvious worries with you but he kept silent. You decided to speak again.

“I’ll take care of the dishes,” you paused and gauged his expressions. “So, can you please tell me what’s going on? Is there anything I should know?” If what he was worrying about was Mammon and his strange behaviour, then you’d rather cut all pleasantries and get to the point. You had a feeling that Satan would let it slide this time. True to your gut feelings, his tense expressions finally relaxed, turning to Beelzebub to give his approval for the said avatar of gluttony to take his dessert pudding.

“I think I might know what’s going on with him. I’ve encountered it before in one of my readings. However…” his expression turned serious again. “I cannot fathom how he succumbed to it. His mental strength is the best among us.”

Mental strength?

Satan nodded as you spoke out loud. “I’m willing to talk to you about it in my room. I don’t want Mammon to hear it.” He looked to your leftmost side where your DDD was located. “Do you mind if you message him first?"

A message was sent, read and replied to after a few minutes with perfect grammar and punctuation. There was none of his usual accent in his text lingo, making you unnerved but you kept it to yourself.

Mammoney

Understood. I shall retire for the night then. Thank you for worrying about me. Good night and, I love you.

You saw Satan’s face pale as he read Mammon’s reply on your notifications tab, muttering something about how ridiculous it all was and you couldn’t help but agree. It was sweet though, at least in your own biased, rose-coloured eyes. If Levi were here, he would have cried out, "NORMIES EXPLODE!!!” in injustice and you would have laughed at his face.

Satan’s room was the same as usual—cluttered yet organised, teeming with books at every corner. There was an occasional cat artwork on the walls, a huge bulletin board-whiteboard hybrid containing book quotes and daily reminders. A faint smell of cat food was in the air, his green sweater (that looked like it was covered in cat hair) folded neatly on the sofa. He took it and threw it in his hamper and asked you to sit there.  “This would take a while.” he smiled sheepishly and gestured you to look at his whiteboard, erasing Hemingway and Frost from its corner. Tomorrow’s groceries were transferred to a post-it note and pinned on a free corner of the bulletin board. Perhaps due to the ink staying there for too long, it still left a faint, smudged stain, easily fixed by a wet tissue and some rubbing alcohol. He began writing anyway, leaving that little chore of his to-do for later.

“Too difficult (that) you need to draw it?”, you asked.

Satan chuckled. “It’s easier to understand with some diagrams, don’t you think?"

"He isn't…involved in anything dangerous, is he?"

Satan raised an eyebrow, his lips curving up to a teasing smile. "He already is even before this all happened.”

You remembered the witches,and just the other day, an irate restaurant owner demanding you to pay for the damages he caused on his part-time job. Ah…

“You’re right.” You stared at the diagram he was drawing on the whiteboard, familiar with the runes and symbols arranged in concentric fashion. You began to feel nervous. “A magic circle?"

"A curse,” He corrected. “A popular one at that, that utilises hypnotism as its medium. You must have seen it before.”

You considered it and looked at the runes again, drawing a blank. Satan noticed this and reluctantly gave you a hint. A faint blush coloured his cheeks as he recited the familiar lines:

“Badazim, Badaboom, on my count of one and two, reform the wayward you, Alakazam Alakaglum, you are no longer (a) scum!"

"Mr. Magic!!” You shouted (just as he finished his embarrassing chant). “Now that I look at the runes again, it does look like the magic circle he taught us to use!"

Mr. Magic was a popular kids’ show in Devildom that was comparable to Human world’s Spongeb☆b. It was enjoyable to watch even as an adult, and appealed to even the angels. You often watched it with Luke whenever they invited you for a sleepover at their dormitory. Its most popular episode, simply titled as Mr. Magic’s Hypnosis Special was such a huge hit in Devildom and Heaven that it caused a hypnosis craze a few hundred years ago(at least that’s what Levi had told you). Apparently, one of the spells Mr. Magic taught in that episode was one that reformed bad demons to good ones. Honestly, you were surprised about that. You didn’t have the warmest welcome when you got here so you assumed the human world’s portrayal of hell was pretty close to reality. However, they were surprisingly grey like humans are. Getting closer to the demons in the exchange program only proved that point further.

"Right, the very one. Remember when Mammon fell victim to that a few months back?"

You heard about it but didn’t actually get to see Mammon acting like a "good demon” as his brothers had hinted you, but based on their reactions and Mammon’s embarrassment, it must have been quite a sight to behold.

“Don’t tell me that he fell for it twice?"

Satan made a complicated face. "Yes and no. Frankly, I still don’t understand how anyone could fall for the same trick twice. Mammon may be an idiot but he isn’t stupid.” The roundabout way he complimented his elder was almost heartwarming. Satan drew a huge question mark next to the magic circle. “He’s also really strong,” he added. “And is the most mentally resilient of us brothers. It doesn’t make sense that he’s acting like this.”

“Did someone trick him?"

"Possible, but we cannot know for sure. However, it would be troublesome if my other brothers would know about it.”

“Why so?"

"Lucifer would get all annoying again and blame us for what happened with Mammon. He’s his favourite after all.”

He frowned when you suddenly burst in laughter. “Ah, you laugh now but you should see him. I’m speaking the truth, you know. If you don’t want to hear a litany of scoldings, why don’t you agree to help me fix this?"

"Not like I’d refuse anyway.” you shrugged.

“That makes things easier then. Let’s take advantage of the situation.” He walked towards a stack of books and spoke again. “Where is he now?"

"He’s asleep.”

“Are you sure?"

"Like a baby,” you answered. “He had a long day.”

Nodding, Satan took a grimoire from an unstable stack of books. It reminded you of jenga nights with the brothers with how he carefully slid the said book out(minus his attempts to bring it back to balance) once he had gotten what he wanted. “Actually, now that I think about it…there might be one reason why he’s doing this that makes sense…”

“Hm?” he was speaking so softly that you didn’t hear him. Satan shook his head. “Nevermind. Let’s act fast while he’s still asleep.”

You quietly agreed and led him to your shared room where Mammon was sleeping soundly. He had always been a heavy sleeper so it was often a struggle for you to wrestle your blankets out of his grasp at times when he sleeps before you. As you expected—he was cuddling your blanket again and snoring softly on his side of the bed. Satan looked at you and whispered. “I’ll start?” You nodded and opened the bedside lamp for him. “Thank you.” You stepped back and watched as Satan’s magical energy enveloped him in glowing emerald, a colour he associated with as well as his representative sin. Some foreign words were chanted—a reversed version of the magic circle he drew earlier was hovering over your sleeping lover and covering his entire body. As Satan finished his chants, a splash of light enveloped Mammon, disappearing into a puff of smoke and leaving a scent of sulphur in the air–which, in your months of learning about curses and hexes, was something you understood is an indication that a spell had been casted properly.

“That should do it.” Satan closed his grimoire, looking satisfied with the results. “He should be back to normal once he wakes up.”

Your heart was filled with gratitude. While you liked the change, it did leave you with mixed feelings, especially after hearing that Mammon’s graceful behaviour was a result of a curse. As much as you loved how much of a gentleman he was for today, you preferred it if he acted like himself. “Thank you, Satan. I really appreciate it.”

Satan looked bashful with your sudden show of sincerity. “It’s nothing.” He cleared his throat and awkwardly looked to his side. “About what I said earlier…”

“Earlier?”

He shook his head and muttered, “No, it doesn’t matter anymore. Well, have a good night.”

“Good night to you too.”

You felt really tired after you heard the door being shut gently so you lied next to Mammon on the bed and wrapped your arms around him. “Good night, Mammon.” you said as you placed a chaste kiss on his cheek and shut your eyes tightly, wishing for sleep.

.

.

.

.

.

.

💌💌💌

You woke up the next morning feeling like you’ve forgotten something important. You turned to your side to see that Mammon was still sound asleep, unable to escape from him as he had wrapped his arms around your waist. Not like you were in a hurry to wake up anyway, you thought to yourself as you smiled and parted the bangs obscuring your beloved demon’s handsome face. The gesture made him stir in his sleep, his tightly shut eyes opening slightly.

“Sorry, you should get a bit more sleep.”

His mouth opened slightly, holding back a yawn. He moaned in protest and nuzzled to you even closer, not saying a word.

“You want to stay like this?” you felt him nod from the crook of your neck. “Okay, I don’t mind that,” You nodded back and stroked his head; but just as your hand was about to touch his hair, you felt him pull away from you(almost by force) as he sat on the bed and rummaged the bedside drawer.

His pair of spectacles now sat comfortably on the bridge of his nose, his hair tidied up a bit through his attempt of combing it with his fingers. It was odd: he looked a lot like himself yesterday but something was…out of place.

“M-My apologies, I have shown you such a disgraceful appearance.” he turned to you and smiled shakily. “Good morning, hu…my love.”

Huh?!

>continue to next scenario

💌masterlist

*A/N: The curse and Mr. Magic are based on the "Demon Brothers (New)" chatroom called Hypnosis Time 1.

#psisly #hamartia series #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fic #interactive fiction #cyoa #obey me x reader #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #love letter #secret admirer

[uwua3]

hi! first off, congrats on the new blog!! i read that misumi piece and i really enjoyed it hehe,, if it's alright, may i request some domestic fluff with kazunari? mayb looking over old photo albums of each other from when they were kids and laughing and telling stories about what happened in the photos? thank you very much and i hope u have a nice day :D

hi!!! this made me so happy 🥺 thank you so much, i hope to keep this blog running for a long time! also, i saw your reblog of my jealousy hcs and i wanted to say thank you for your sweet comments!!! i go back to it whenever i need motivation, you inspire me to keep writing ♡ thank you! i hope to continue making you proud as a writer :D <3

summary: kazunari had to stop living in the past and make new memories outside of his yearbooks with you

author’s note: this is definitely a much happier piece than my others! this was refreshing to write and i treasure it dearly, it’s definitely much more on the humorous side! no angst today, folks!!! (ok just a little, but it’s barely noticeable!)

this is just a little look into a hoarder named kazunari and his sentimental, nostalgic personality ♡ i, myself, am a marie kondo supporter so i love decluttering! if you are a hoarder like kazunari, honestly go you! you keep those knick knacks that remind you of memories! do whatever makes you the happiest :D

word count: 2,151

music: make you mine – public, tongue tied – grouplove (this song is so Kazunari !!!)

nostalgia.

🌻🎨 miyoshi kazunari

it was that time of year again

kazunari hated spring cleaning with a passion. so what if his art supplies were all over the dorms? he knew where everything was! uh, mostly...

(if you ignore his daily panicked house searches which kept everyone up way too late if he couldn’t locate a very specific paint shade for a big project he definitely procrastinated)

so, it took, so much bribery to get kazunari to even consider cleaning out his entire dorm room

(muku was a very Good Boy and already had his side of the room perfectly dusted and organized)

yes, you had to promise to pose as a model for one of his paintings one day (hopefully, not the type of class you were thinking) (kazunari’s suggestive wink didn’t help)

the thing about kazunari was he was somewhat of a, putting it politely, hoarder

as an extremely sentimental person, it would take the whole mankai company to even force him to throw something away

(“no! it has a special meaning to me! i remember what happened when i got this~” kazunari would whine, holding the useless item between his hands with no intentions to ever look at it again)

so the boys employed you to be kazunari’s rational judgement when cleaning that day

(“please actually make him do something.” sakyo looked like he was on the border of begging; kazunari’s abundance of random knick knacks and shopaholic addiction problem was becoming an issue that affected everyone)

rule #1 of cleaning kazunari’s storage room: don’t open anything because kazunari will become very sentimental and nothing will get gone

so therefore, as a team, you two tackled the rather spotless room. the interior was minimal and modern, just like kazunari liked it with pops of color here and there

(he had one blank white wall and you realized it was the backdrop he used to film all his social media posts [dancing tik toks, fashion #ootds on instagram, daily vlogs on his growing youtube channel])

at first, you were confused where all his stuff went until you opened a closet against his terrible and unconvincing distractions

without time to react, you found yourself buried in tens of books you couldn’t even fathom how it all fit

(“i’ve played way too much tetris.” kazunari would admit later on when asked about his immaculate stacking)

“you’ve got to be kidding me!” you groaned, pushing your head above the surface of book covers that have either never been opened or were way too old to even be functionable

“i’m sorry~ please, forgive me!” kazunari pleaded, immediately pulling you out of his own mess and using all his cuteness to make you roll your eyes fondly at your best friend

you almost started ranting at him about the dangers of taking up too much closet space with useless items before you realized:

wait! stop! he’s trying to get you to forget about throwing these books out! you thought suddenly, crossing your arms as you stared at the pile, trying to figure out how to approach the situation

“you cannot distract me. we are going through this mound and you will be getting rid of something today.” you ordered, seeing his shoulders drop in defeat as he nodded solemnly, but accepting his fate without any arguments. thank god for that

you two bent down and organized all the books into categories. popular photography instruction guides, creative advice columns, and all his past art textbooks kazunari couldn’t sell were put into a seperate group because luckily, they were relevant to his art school

things like old newspapers with funny comics were recycled (you refused to let kazunari read them in fear of invoking some form of nostalgia) (also because he had the whackiest sense of humor ever and would die laughing)

it was going well, until you reached the thickest photo books of them all (you had almost forgotten what you and kazunari’s school mascot was)

but unsurprisingly, kazunari had every single yearbook from each year of his education all the way until his last year in high school piled high to his chest

even he looked somewhat shocked from his mass accumulation from his teen years

“ah! i’m so old now~ look at all this! what else can i do except die?!” kazunari dramatically flopped onto his bed, tired of lifting so much weight. hey! his arms weren’t meant for exercise, he was a painter!

lifting his head to see you were distracted from alphabetically sorting the first section lovingly dubbed, “art shit”, kazunari mischeviously grinned as he leaned down to snatch a random yearbook

flipping to a random page, kazunari smiled as he realized it was the first time he ever met you back in elementary

kazunari sang your name as he sat upwards, having a shit–eating look on his face as he started swinging his legs back and forth

oh no, he was up to something no good, you knew it but humored him anyways

“yes, kazu?” you turned your line of sight to the most horrible picture possible: you with the ugliest haircut in the entire world with kazunari’s black hair taking up the entire photo as you two sheepishly smiled for the camera. it was not a proud moment

okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad, you just couldn’t help but shriek at the sight of your hair

“oh my god! you can’t just jumpscare me like that!” you laughed despite yourself. you knew you had to be serious and focused on decluttering, but one look at your past made you remember all the good times before so–called “adulthood”

“look at your hair!” you cackled, reaching up to playfully yank at his mullet as he yelped and lightly smacked your hand away. rubbing the back of his neck, kazunari huffed childishly and pouted like he was back in his youth

“come on! this was the pinnacle moment i realized, i should not be a hair dresser.” kazunari commented, making you remember how you just let a random 8–year–old boy waddle up to you with safety scissors and advertise his salon business like a professional

(yes, you bought into it right away. your teacher had a heart attack when she saw you with a majority of your hair on the floor and kazunari keeping small talk like an actual hair stylist)

thinking back after the haircut incident, you weren’t allowed to chat with the funny class clown anymore as you were forced to wear a hat every day

(it was either that or go completely bald to fix the job kazunari did to your head)

it wasn’t until you received a very creative and colorful apology letter with tons of sad faces drawn with waxy crayons that you snuck out to play with him on the swings in recess

“i can’t believe we became friends because i wanted free hair cuts for the rest of my life.” you added, staring at the picture with a sense of nostalgia. you kinda got where kazunari was coming from, memories were fun to look at every once and a while

at least, eleven years worth of memories after being inseperable from that moment forward

(maybe, you should’ve held onto it, you thought, not knowing that would be the first of many art pieces you would be gifted by him)

kazunari knew he won. excited, he dropped down to lay on his stomach as you leaned against the bed, watching as he thumbed through the pages with ease, leaning his head on yours comfortably

it was rare to find kazunari quiet, he must’ve been like this all the time when going through his stuff, you thought, at peace for once

lazily smiling, kazunari put his finger against your yearbook pictures as he reminisced on the past. something about everyone ever in your grade, how kazunari knew everyone and had a special memory with each person, no matter how big or small

“—and here, the teacher somehow caught a pic of us swinging wayyy too high for kids our age!” kazunari laughed, breaking your train of thought as you snickered at the absolute joy radiating from both your faces as you two competed to see who could reach the clouds

(kazu won. you fell off right after and had to get picked up from your parents after badly scraping your knee. it took another sorry letter and art of you two holding hands with a heart for your parents to forgive kazunari)

“let’s go back.” you interrupted him, making him sit up confused as you swung your keys out from your back pocket. it didn’t take any convincing for kazunari to nod right away and took the elementary yearbook into his arm

you two only had to exchange a secret look before formulating a plan to sneak out, leaving music on from kazunari’s speakers to act like kazunari was still cleaning

you two giggled amongst yourselves before clambering into your car, speeding off and laughing loudly from your successful getaway. the manager was none the wiser!

during the short car ride, you and kazunari played your favorite mixtape of all time

(“you kept this?!” kazunari yelled, giddily bouncing up and down from excitement when he discovered the mixtape stash)

he slipped the disc in as you two yelled along to childhood favorites with the windows rolled down, letting the entire neighborhood know the best duo were back in town

(seriously, there were so many you stashed away in your glove department. all labeled in sharpie with compelling titles connected to the inside jokes only you two found funny)

arriving at the destination, you two exited the vehicle to see the play pen was abandoned as the teaching staff went home for the day

the sun was setting and it felt like the playground was in another rift of time as you approached it, hearing the weak movement of the swings going back and forth on their own. you sat down, holding onto the chains. you hadn’t been back ever since you graduated. it hadn’t changed at all

kazunari opened the elementary yearbook back to the original page, pulling out his tripod and phone he always had on hand in his backpack as he set it up right across the swing set

“what are you doing?” you inquired, tilting your head as he fumbled around pressing different buttons and filters too complex for you to remember

looking up, kazunari grinned as he set a timer for 10 seconds before sprinting back to the swing next to you

“swing contest right now! i bet i could swing higher than you ever could!” kazunari challenged childishly, quickly kicking his legs for the momentum. you narrowed your eyes, refusing to lose as you two laughed over the sound of his phone taking a burst of photos

you realized what he was doing. he was re–creating your memories together

but you turned to look at him and your heart skipped a beat. you never remembered him looking this, different, in the purple lighting. for a flashing moment, you swore you saw the silhoutte of his black–haired, child self sit next to you before you blinked and saw him. kazunari was the same, just older now

you slowed down your swing by dragging your sneakers against the wood chipped ground. you grabbed both the swings’ chains to hold them together

you didn’t want to live in the past anymore. you wanted to grow up with him, too

“what—” kazunari started, matching your pace before being cut off by your lips against his, the phone going off for one last time

you pulled yourself in close enough just to smile. he smelled the exact same as he did when he discovered cologne for the first time. he never changed

you pulled away first even if he tried leaning forward for more, like he was waiting all these years just for that one moment. like he saw you in the same light, too

“i wanted to do that for years.” you confessed, watching as he took your hand carefully, like he was afraid you were going to leave. for once, he didn’t know what to do, which face to show

“me too...” kazunari agreed, seemingly speechless before straightening his back, like he was about to run away. the hair on your neck stood up, what was he about to do?

“i promise i won’t cut your hair anymore, unless?” kazunari winked dramatically, mimicking the shape of scissors with his fingers as he tried snipping at your hair

he laughed as you shoved him with all your might, hopping off the swing to chase him throughout the school parking lot

now this was a memory kazunari would never throw away, no matter what

(no one thought the two of you escaped until kazunari posted the pics on his instagram, both of you getting a scolding from sakyo this time)

(busted!)

#miyoshi kazunari #kazunari miyoshi #a3! act! addict! actors! #a3! #act! addict! actors! #a3! actor training game #a3! headcanons #act! addict! actors! headcanons #mankai a3! #mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #kazunari x reader #a3! kazunari #a3 kazunari

[guiltysecretpasttime]

The Airbender’s Wife (Chapter 5)

Fic update :)

Summary: Korra arrives in Republic City to reside at Air Temple Island to begin her Airbending training. As excited as she was to leave the compound in the South Pole, she was wary of living with her Airbending Master and his mysterious wife. The airbender’s wife, who, Korra realized, she has never met before.

OR

The one where Tenzin throws caution to the wind and chooses Lin over repopulating the Air Nation.

===

Korra disliked lots of things – from the odd (she did not like to brush her teeth before taking a shower – she preferred to do it after) to the passably logical ones (when dining out, she did not like sitting with her back to the entrance door).

But one of the things she abhorred is feeling weak. She hated showing any sign of weakness. For Spirits’ sake, she was the Avatar. She cannot be weak.

(Granted, this was probably ingrained on her based on repeated feedback from the Order of the White Lotus. Despite what her parents say, Korra did not think she had a childhood that was even remotely normal.)

Therefore, her inability to airbend and her recurring Amon nightmare plagued her. It was not right for the Avatar to be weak, to have these insecurities, to have these fears.

Tenzin had approached her already, asking if she was alright – he mentioned having fears and how it was okay. He was there to listen; however, she was unwilling to talk about it.

Korra glumly reflected to herself as she sat at the steps on one of Air Temple Island’s pavilions.

What kind of Avatar was she if she couldn’t airbend? If she had fears? How can she rightly defend the city (or the world, for that matter) if she was scared of Amon? These fears are her blockers from airbending – she just knew it.

She looked across the bay to the large statue of Aang, realizing, not for the first time, the large shoes she needed to fill.

Speaking of shoes…

Korra recognized the metal clicking sound coming her way.

Without turning to face the newcomer, she muttered exasperatedly. “I know, I know, Tenzin already told me. You’re here for me if I need to talk to someone.”

“Uh, actually no.”

The Avatar-in-training swiftly turned around, seeing confusion on Lin’s face. The teenager blinked. “Oh.”

“I mean, I’m here to give you an errand.” The metalbender awkwardly held her own arm, one hand holding what appears to be a carton of something heavy.

Is Lin embarrassed?

“Listen, kid, talking isn’t my thing – that’s more Tenzin’s expertise. I’m more likely to say something wrong, offensive, or abrasive – or all three combined.” That’s for sure, Korra thought with a hint of affection. “So if you’re looking to be coddled or – Spirits’ forbid - cuddled – I’m not the right person.” Lin tilted her head, seemingly trying to make up her mind about something. “But since you opened it up –.”

Oh Spirits, no. I’m not in the mood for a heart-to-heart talk.

Lin probably saw the horror on Korra’s face and held up her hand as though to stop. “I’m not going to be all spiritual or mushy about it but maybe – just maybe –just a thought, you could try and write to your mom?”

Whatever Korra expected, it was not that.

“What – why? Did she write to you about me?” Korra’s eyes widened but the earthbender shook her head. “Did you use to write a lot of letters to your mom when you’re apart or travelling?”

“Huh, no,” Lin released a sigh. “There’s this problem that we have, apart from being emotionally stunted – she’s blind, you see.”

Ah, right. Korra wanted to hit herself; she definitely would not have passed the police department’s sensitivity training.

“But no, while my mom and I aren’t really pen-pals,” Lin continued speaking. “I do know that Katara and Izumi dearly looked forward to hearing from their sons in the United Forces. I mean, sure Tenzin writes to his mother often, but it doesn’t quite have that is-he-dead-or-alive suspense in between.”

Or maybe there isn’t any sensitivity training to begin with at RCPD.

Korra mildly wondered if the eldest Beifong daughter worried the same way of her younger sister, who apparently had travelled prior to settling down. She did not think they were at that level of relationship yet to pry so the Avatar just nodded.

“You said you have an errand for me?”

“Right,” The metalbender thrusted the box to her. “There will be a Southern Water Tribe ship arriving this week in Republic City. Can you make sure to have this box of preserves included in their next shipping? I’d like to send these to Mother, but I don’t think I’ll be able to have some time off in the next few days.”

“Oh sure, no problem.” Korra readily agreed; she also supposed that she would have a letter ready by then for her mother.

Maybe Lin was right – there might be some wisdom to talking to her mom. After all, Korra figured, she did usually turn to Senna when she had nightmares as a child.

Lin must have seen something on her face. The older woman thanked her then quietly added. “But seriously, Korra,” Her eyebrows furrowed. “I know it’s not my place – but if there’s anything really, don’t hesitate to approach - .”

“Tenzin. I know I know.” The teenager interrupted, sensing the discomfort across her.

“I was going to say Tenzin for spiritual stuff,” The metalbender deadpanned. “But if it can’t be avoided, I’m here as well.”

Korra’s mind briefly went to the time that Tenzin compared her to his wife.

The airbender’s wife took a deep breath. “Pretending something doesn’t exist, or rejecting its existence, won’t help you.” Lin chose her words carefully. “You can’t find the solution to a problem if you don’t think that problem exists.”

That made the Avatar think. True – how can she face her fears when she didn’t even want to admit she had these fears?

Belatedly, Korra realized that while the airbender might be speaking of theoretical and philosophical platitudes he read from books – the earthbender before her might be speaking from experience.

Who knew what situations the scarred chief of police has faced – both in her professional capacity as a member of the force and in a personal capacity as the daughter of Toph Beifong and the wife of the currently last airbender?

Her tired green eyes were reflecting some invisible strain. The Avatar could not fathom if there were matters that the city’s defender kept to herself, matters that not even her husband knew.  

“Anyway, Avatar, try to think about what I said.” The penetrating voice broke into her thoughts. “Check-in with your mom and don’t forget to send the preserves to Katara.”

Korra peered into the box, curious about the preserves that she recalled were served whenever she took her snacks at Master Katara’s house.

“You and Tenzin have your own stock in the house,” Chief Beifong called behind as she strode off to wherever she needed to be. “You can get some from that stock to send to your parents – so don’t even think of getting one from that box.”

Korra looked up in mild exasperation, catching the smile on the metalbender’s face.

Spirits forbid Lin Beifong would come across as caring.

---

And that was why Korra found herself arriving at city hall late one afternoon that week. After making sure her letters and Lin’s package were part of the Water Tribe ship’s cargo, she figured she had enough time to explore the city before meeting Tenzin. This time she made sure to wear an ordinary Earth Kingdom outfit so as to not draw any untoward attention to herself. Then again, she thought, maybe she should not have bothered as Naga padded beside her, causing people to double-take at them.

Upon entering Air Nation councilman’s room, the Avatar-in-training sensed the agitation from her teacher.

The usually calm airbender was going through books and documents, poring on each text silently with a frown marring his face. Upon finishing each document and apparently not finding the answer he needed, his frown would go deeper (any deeper and the teenager thought his face would collapse in its own) and he would toss the document to a side table that was pulled to his desk for that specific reason.

Korra scratched the back of her head, stretched then placed her feet on the coffee table in front of her. She tossed a look at the Tenzin, awaiting the scolding that she was bound to receive.

Hmm, nothing.

She tapped her pen incessantly on the edge of the book she was supposed to be reviewing today (Air Nomad history, published during the time of the previous Avatar), making sure she was being obnoxious and distracting.

No reaction. Tenzin continued to flip through his files with what Korra deemed as his Resting Frustrated Face™ (scowling lips and reddening ears at the tips).

Thank the Spirits that she did not have any tell like Tenzin that would alert the world to what she was feeling.

Fate was funny in how he married the most poker-faced woman that Korra had the ­misfortune to have met.

She continued to tap the pen on her notebook.

“Hey, Tenzin?”

No response.

“Tenzin?”

Still none.

“Master Tenzin?”

Why isn’t he responsive?

Korra strode to the door and knocked. “Councilman Tenzin, you in there?! Hello?”

Tenzin was startled, several loose pages fluttering as a gust of wind was produced. “What is it, Korra?”

“Are you okay?” She tilted her head, one hand on her waist, and looked at him questioningly. “You seem…off.” Korra moved her hand from side to side to indicate this.

The airbender ran a hand on his face.

“Tough council meeting?”

He nodded, drawing his hands to his head, closing his eyes in recollection.

---

“I will not be the prized metalbender for your pet project, Councilman – for the reasons I’ve shared earlier.” The caustic tone matched the statement of the metalbender. The Chief of Police stood up, dislodging the councilman’s hands on her shoulders.

“Oh come now, Chief Beifong – I’m sure this would delight the masses.”

“Fortunately for me, I do not care about delighting the masses.”

“Nonetheless,” The Water Tribe councilman smoothly went back to this seat and used the gavel. “All in favor of -?”

As expected, all of them, except Tenzin, approved the creation of a task force to be headed by Councilman Tarrlok and Chief Beifong.

“Any reason for your disapproval, Councilman Tenzin?” Tarrlok eyed the airbender beadily.

Tenzin knew the younger councilman was baiting him. He had to fight this with logic rather than any emotional outburst; otherwise, his credibility on the issue would be shut down as being made by an indignant spouse of the Chief of Police.

“Are we sure that the Chief of Police is allowed – by law – to co-head a task force with a councilman, a task force created by the same councilmember?” The airbender knew it was a risk to bring up, since he did not know if such law exists but he had to try. “Wouldn’t that be problematic?” He pushed forward, seeing the doubtful expressions of the other councilmembers. “Shouldn’t we check first?”

“Very well then, Councilman Tenzin - you now have 24 hours to present the City Council with a copy of that law. Once the time lapses and no documentation surfaces, we will proceed in introducing the taskforce, myself and Chief Beifong to Republic City.” With some final closing words, the head of the council banged the gavel, signaling the end of the session. The Fire Nation councilwoman proceeded to thank the Chief of Police and read out the next item in their agenda.

Tenzin felt sick to his stomach. His wife’s flashing eyes cut to him. Her knuckles were whitening with how tight she held her fists.

The Chief of Police now excused herself from the meeting as the session proceeded to other matters. The heavy metal of her soles clicking ominously on the marble floor, door banging as her metal cable swung it shut.

---

Korra stared thoughtfully at the book she was holding and made her way to the airbender’s desk to help him. “So, what exactly are you looking for?”

“There has to be a documentation here in city hall,” Tenzin replied in a tired voice. “About involving the Chief of Police with Council task forces.”

“There’s none that would help you– Sokka made sure that the laws would allow a councilman to head a task force alongside the chief of police,” Korra snorted. “Primarily because he thought he and Toph as task force leads would be bad-ass.” She continued to thumb through a stack of binders.

Tenzin faced the teenager abruptly. “What did you say? How did you know that?”

“Councilman Sokka told me the day he was going to have the paperwork approved…” The Avatar trailed off, eyes widening as realization dawned on her.

“Did I just -?”

“Did you just -?”

Master and student looked at each other with the same epiphany.

“Korra, is this the first time you’ve have any form of connection to the previous Avatar?”

“I think so…”

The Airbending master’s face lit up. “This is good news!”

“But we didn’t even know what I did!” While elated, the young Avatar was panicking. She did not want to get Tenzin’s hopes up.

“Little steps – but this is a good sign; it’s progress! We can try connecting then entering the spirit world soon.”

Korra tuned out the airbender’s words as he began to talk about all the things that they will do next. She pulled a bound tome from one of the stacks on Tenzin’s desk.

“I think what we need is here.”

Tenzin took the book gratefully and scanned through it.

True enough, as Korra said – there was a section on police involvement with the council task force. The Chief of Police may lead a task force created by the City Council alongside a councilmember or whoever the council appointed as lead.

“Chief’s not going to like this, will she?”

Her teacher shook his head and continued to drag his finger across the page, reading the text line by line. “This must be what Uncle Sokka used to tell Bumi long ago, that he could create a task force and work with Lin. He correctly assumed that Lin would be following in her mother’s footsteps.”

“So Bumi was to be chief of the Southern Water Tribe?” This was news to Korra.

“Well, it was an option – he could be chief and/or the council representative.” Tenzin stroked his beard absentmindedly. “Even Kya could have led the tribe if she wanted to. It was Bumi’s choice whether or not to take the opportunity. He had a choice…we all did.”

Korra felt the subtext was lost on her, the meaning behind it at the edge of her consciousness but still not quite understanding what the last airbender meant.

Instead, she went back to the topic at hand.

“If Chief is anything like her mother, wouldn’t Toph challenge this law or at least make sure that she had an out?”

And there it was on the next page.

---

Within the next hour, the city council re-convened and a phone call was made to the police headquarters.

The ad-hoc meeting resulted in Chief Beifong being granted eighteen hours provide a replacement lead from her police force as well as the names of those who would be serving under the task force. The council likewise could accept or reject the candidate as well as present their own candidate.

Korra made herself scarce at one of the benches at the back of the meeting room, barely meeting Chief Beifong’s tight nod as she left the room with her deputy. Tenzin was about to follow but was intercepted by the Earth Kingdom representative.

Before Korra had the chance to sidle out of the room unnoticed, the Water Tribe councilman she saw on her first day approached her.

“I don’t believe we’ve met yet – I am Councilman Tarrlok,” The braided man bowed. “Head of the city council and representing the Northern Water Tribe. Pleased to meet you Avatar Korra.”

Korra acknowledged him guardedly. There was something about the man that wasn’t quite right but she cannot put her finger on it yet.

Tarrlok eyed Tenzin quickly heading their way. “Looking forward to working with you soon.” With a small bow, he went towards the exit.

“Korra, was Tarrlok bothering you?” Tenzin asked, concern lacing his tone.

She shook her head no.

“Be careful around him.” The airbender said but offered no additional explanation. He looked at the main hall’s clock, indicating the end of office hours, and looked at the documents at his hand.

Both of them knew fully well that Lin would not be joining them at the island for dinner today; the timer has been set by Tenzin and Korra’s discovery of the full implementation guidelines of a city-led task force.

“Korra, why don’t you go visit your pro-bending friends?”

“What?” The Avatar blurted out before she was able to check herself. Don’t get her wrong, she did want to meet up with Bolin and Mako. They still have not resolved the issue about the championship pot.

“To take your mind off things.” His grey eyes peered at her in concern.

The man was more perceptive than she gave him credit for.

“Don’t forget to go home before the last ferry leaves.”

“What about you? Is Oogi with you?”

She noticed him gripping the folder tightly. “I think I’ll stay with Lin tonight at the city house.”

---

While waiting for Lin who was at the shower, Tenzin sat cross-legged in their living room, examining the metalbender’s armor for dents and polishing where necessary.

The strategist that she was, Lin already had a short-list of people from the force who could be leads with Tarrlok. The rest of the afternoon (and early evening) was spent finalizing the plans with her team as well as reviewing the names who had signed up for the task force.

Tenzin did not have to wait long until Lin met him at the lobby of the police headquarters.

She had grumbled on the way home that, as she expected, the benders who disagreed with her non-bending/bending patrolling protocols had signed up. Nonetheless, she would be submitting their names tomorrow to the council and Tarrlok.

Tenzin was pleased to see that they still had time for a quick dinner; Lin, on the other hand, just wanted to go home and rest.

Arriving at a compromise, Lin conceded to taking out dinner but if (and only if) she gets to take a shower first before going out again. Her husband readily agreed – armor or not, that slimy Tarrlok did place his hands on her.

The phone cut through the sounds of running water. Tenzin put the armor down and reached over the table.

“Hello – ah yes, Yao. Good evening to you too – yes, Korra would be having dinner in the city. What – Tarrlok? Did he say why he wanted to cross to the island?” He vaguely heard Lin finishing her shower. “Good, please keep him off the island unless I or Lin were there. If he tries one more time, make sure to call the police station to lodge a formal complaint. Thank you, Yao. Have a good evening.”

“I’m ready, let’s go.”

Tenzin looked up at his wife, who had changed into a simple tunic top and gray pants. He placed the phone back in its cradle. Lin raised her eyebrow in askance as she bent to take her armor.

“It was Yao – no, you’re not wearing your armor tonight,” He pulled the armor away from her arms. The chief of police’s armor weighed heavily on her, both literally and figuratively. He did not want her to be burdened tonight, at least for a short while. He placed it in storage beside the front door.

Lin frowned but did not argue. She put on a coat and helped her husband into his. “What did Yao say?”

“Yao called because apparently, Tarrlok was attempting to board the ferry to the island. He can’t take you saying no for an answer, can he?” The airbender huffed in annoyance, shrugging into the outdoor coat, more to satisfy Lin that any need for it.

Lin locked the house behind them then looped her arm into Tenzin’s proffered one as they strolled.

“It’s not me he’s after now, it’s Korra.”

“Korra? But – why –.” Tenzin sputtered indignantly.

“She’s the Avatar.” The metalbender nonchalantly stated. “What better way to make a statement than get to get the Avatar at his side.”

Tenzin considered. “Well, he is all about reputation and PR…”

The rest of their walk was spent debating on where they were going to pick up their food.

Eventually, Lin recognized that the airbender had led them to Little Water Tribe.

Her husband could feel her looking at him questioningly. He simply patted her hand, still hooked around his arm.

Tenzin could not forget the words that the Northern Water Tribe representative had dropped earlier that day. While Lin Beifong remained impassive as ever during the ordeal, he knew better. He did not want her to wallow in those thoughts alone.

“Here we are.” He stopped at the window of the take-out nook of a noodlery.

It was an affordable place, newly opened under new management in the recent years, offering fare that reminded him of his mother’s home in the South Pole.

What drew him here, however, was not the promise of his mother’s cooking or even the warm atmosphere. It was a sense of nostalgia, of recreating simpler days.

Back when they were starting out, Lin and Tenzin used to frequent food stalls around the city. Most of the places they patronized have either shut down or been upscaled. The experience just was not the same.

They had stumbled upon Narook’s a couple of months back, when Tenzin insisted waiting for Lin to go home after a long shift (never mind that he had fallen asleep in her office while waiting). At two in the morning, Chief Crankypants was making herself known (last meal eaten was a steamed bun at brunch) and a sleep-deprived airbender was questioning each decision that brought him and his wife to this moment: walking around the city in search for any open establishment that could feed them.

It was by chance that they came upon Narook’s Seaweed Noodlery tucked near a dark alley– unassuming and still open. The food was cheap, tasty and filling. It also reminded them of a Water Tribe eatery they used to go to when they were younger.

Needless to say, the place became a favorite between them, particularly on late nights or when they were too busy to cook dinner.

Tonight, however, Tenzin had another plan in mind; something he quickly thought of as he was polishing Lin’s armor earlier.

His wife narrowed her eyes at him as he rattled off their order for their take-away to the staff at the window, trying to figure out what he was up to when a recognizable voice rang out.

“---Pretty boy?”

The two of them rounded the corner to look at the front door and saw the polar bear dog sitting outside, confirming that it was Korra’s voice they heard.

The Avatar appeared to be in an altercation with a group of patrons in the restaurant. No one was attempting to stop them.

“We got to stop them.” Lin was about to head into the eatery but was stopped by a gentle grip on her wrist.

“No, let her handle it.” Tenzin signaled the metalbender to remain unseen and observe.

“But Korra -.”

“Shh, let’s wait what they’ll do.” He glanced at her face, green eyes darting between him and the situation in the eatery. “Also, didn’t you know how Suyin and I felt whenever you or Bumi or Kya would swoop in to protect us from playground bullies?” He got her attention this time. “We didn’t like it.” He had to hide a smile though, for all Lin’s abrasiveness, she truly did care for the teenage Avatar.

“Why not? We were simply looking out for you.”

It’s what siblings do, Tenzin recalled Bumi and Kya telling him again and again. Truth be told, there were also a handful of times that Lin (despite being a bit younger than Tenzin) faced Tenzin’s bullies herself.

“We eventually figured that out, but it made us feel…” Tenzin opened his hands, palms up in vague explanation. “Inadequate, weak. Like we’ll always need someone to bail us out.”

The softening in her gaze made him realize that she never did think of it that way.

“Oh, I’ve never...” She trailed off.

Whack! He should have expected it; her fist hitting his arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me that? That could have saved me a lot of yelling matches with Su.”

“I thought it was obvious!” The airbender rubbed his arm.

They were distracted enough from Korra’s situation but then heard the polar bear dog give a roar in the window and laughter coming from her group.

Tenzin waited a moment to check that there was no ensuing commotion. When the restaurant went back to its usual bustling noise, he led Lin back to the take-out nook before anyone noticed them.

As they waited for their takeaway, he drew his wife close to himself by putting an arm on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you or Su to feel that way,” The earthbender leaned on him and he looked at her. “I suppose it’s part of my nature, you know and…”

He interrupted her with a kiss on her forehead. “I know, dear. You don’t have to explain yourself.” He tightened his grip a bit and ran his hand on her arm, in what he thought would be in an assuring manner.

The staff put out a large paper bag from the window and placed two covered cups of cold barley tea (new on their menu). Tenzin thanked the man and paid for their meal.

Lin reached for the drinks and Tenzin tucked the paper bag under one arm.

---

Lin headed to the direction from where they came from, to go back home.

“Not yet,” Her husband gently guided her to the other pathway.

They walked to the edge of the neighborhood where a small park with benches facing Yue Bay was located.

She smiled as she understood what his intention was.

Selecting an empty bench, apart from the other visitors of the park, Tenzin placed the paper bag and began to bring out their food.

Lin put down their drinks and, using earthbending, made a small table for them, keeping in mind to level the ground before they leave.

Together they moved the food and drinks on the table and sat beside each other.

They ate in comfortable silence, Lin occasionally picking mushrooms from Tenzin’s carton and Tenzin rolling his eyes but letting her get away with it.

The meal was reminiscent of the times that they would head to the docks when they were younger, looking over the same bay with Air Temple Island at the horizon. Many late afternoons were spent there, feet dangling above the water as they ate questionable street food. They talked about everything and nothing; both of them enjoying these moments when they could get away from their responsibilities and their parents’ names.

Tenzin leaned back on the bench, sipped his tea and enjoyed the play of the moonlight on his wife’s hair.

“He’s right, you know.”

Tenzin’s gaze moved from the moon to the earthbender, who was calmly poking her noodles with the chopsticks.

“I did end it.” Lin focused intently on her food carton; it had been at the back of her mind the entire day even as she was strategizing with her team about the task force. “What if I did let you go – what if we let each other go all those years ago?” She faintly heard him placing his cup on the table. “What if, instead of being stuck with me – maybe you should have gone around the Air temples and selected perfect mother of the Air Nation?” She flicked a chopstick at him. “Then maybe, just maybe, you would not be dealing with this.”

“Lin – no.”

She pushed on, swallowing tightly. “You probably would not be having difficulty teaching airbending to the Avatar as you would have likely taught your children ahead of Korra. By now, you wouldn’t be the only airbender. You might have, I don’t know, four or five kids? Maybe even more.” Her husband took the utensil and carton from her hand, transferring them to the table as she became agitated. “Then, you wouldn’t have to deal with the likes of Tarrlok using it as leverage against you.”

He pulled her in his arms, embracing her tightly, her protests muffled against his chest. “Don’t say those things. And Tarrlok, pfft, never mind him – it’s not the first time he did that.”

“And it certainly won’t be the last.”

“He had no right to bring that up – that was between you and me.” He sounded as though he was more offended for her than for himself.

“Tenzin, I’ll never be enough.” For the Air Nation was unsaid.

“But you are. You are who I need and who I want.” He attempted to raise her head, still hidden under the flap of his coat. “My father -.”

“Your father’s time has passed; it’s yours now.”

“Lin – even if I ended up not being an airbender,” He pulled away, tilting her face to his; one hand holding hers. “I don’t think my father would have left my mother.”

“You can’t know that.” The metalbender stubbornly stuck to her statement.

“Though to be fair, I don’t think my mother would let him leave him either.” Tenzin stroked her cheek tenderly.

“Yes,” Lin released a choked laugh, a cross between someone trying to stop from crying and laughing. “A water whip would probably hit his behind faster than he can say monkey-feathers.”

Her husband acknowledged with a nod. “And, of course, they loved each other.”

She looked pitifully at him in the eye, communicating wordlessly.

What if love wasn’t enough…for them.

Times change after all. It was no longer the early post-war era where rebuilding was the main priority. Today was about marrying tradition with modernization to ensure progress.

Lin Beifong knew how much preserving the Air Nation’s culture was to her husband. Everything and anything he did likely had a link to the Air Nomads, to his father.

They both knew that he would need to ensure his political viability – otherwise, it would be fairly difficult to carry out the restoration for all the air temples, what more of reviving the expertise of the culture, drawing in more Air Acolytes and maintaining all the heritage projects.

Lin was not simple-minded. She figured out what the major attraction was for some of the Air Acolytes; her mother-in-law did repeatedly point out in their youth that the acolytes started as Aang’s fan club.

While most of the Air Acolytes truly wanted to promote and live out the tenets of the Air Nomads, there were those which were impelled by less than altruistic motives (oh, several names instantly came to Lin’s mind…). Sometimes, Lin questioned herself if preserving the culture and traditions would have been easier if Tenzin had married one of them (and she always ended with a resounding ‘yes of course’). She was sure that there were those who would be interested in being the mother of the Air Nation (she was also aware that there were also other willing volunteers outside of the Air Acolytes, if Kya’s accounts from the Water Tribes were to be believed).

Even Tenzin’s duty to training the Avatar was a tad strained by her association with him. The Order of the White Lotus had been put off by anything Beifong ever since her mother vocally opposed their decision.

(“What? You’ll lock her up – in a compound in an isolated icy tundra?!­ I don’t think that’s what Aang had in mind in letting her have a childhood and preparing her for the world.” The great Toph Beifong had yelled at the meeting where the Order had insisted that protecting Korra would mean training her in the South Pole. This was contradictory to how all the other Avatars had travelled to hone their skills with the elements. It also heavily grated on the first metalbender, who spent the first years of her life isolated from the world. “Oh yeah, sure – who am I anyway to voice my opinion? I just was the former Avatar’s earthbending master. What do I know?” She had scoffed and proceeded to tear apart what she could of the frozen ground of the meeting hall. Needless to say, the Order of the White Lotus selected another earthbending master for Korra.)

Even before the breakdown of the relationship during Korra’s childhood, Toph had not been cooperative with the White Lotus, particularly after the passing of all the members during Iroh’s time as the Grand Lotus. She did not see the point sometimes of their directives. The animosity of the White Lotus carried over to Lin, seeing that she was following her mother’s path (disrespect for tradition, disrespect for the way things are done, disrespect for the continuity of the Four Nations – they had written to her then father-in-law-to-be, in an attempt to dissuade him from letting his only airbending child from marrying the metalbender; said man scratched his head, lit the paper in flames and winked at her).

She knew that they will be checking in on the progress of Korra’s airbending training soon. More pressure would be added on Tenzin’s already weighted shoulders.

Looking straight at his concerned grey eyes, Lin Beifong knew she would do anything to alleviate her husband’s burdens; all and each one of them, especially those which would not have been there if it were not for her.

===

Previous chapters linked below:

Prologue (Contentment) | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Cross-posted in AO3 - same title :)

#linzin #lin beifong #tenzin #linzin fanfic #legend of korra #cross-posted on ao3 #toccatina's fanfics #toccatina wip #toccatina airbender

[uta-h3m-vcd-tbw]

Who Am I?

I have attempted to dialogue the events in my life at least 100 times beforehand but probably more but could never bring myself to be completely honest.  Call this a personal inventory if you will.  I consider myself a better writer than most however when it comes to writing about myself my brain goes blank.  I know what I want to say, it’s just how do you go about telling anyone....”I am a Heroin addict.”  

I have read a couple books about other addicts & have watched countless documentaries, movies, & shows about addiction.  Always paying close attention to how the writer unfolds his/her story trying to translate it to my own with little success.  I eventually came to the conclusion that so much has happened in the two decades of drug use that there is no way fathomable to include everything...at least not in your standard literary fashion.  

A few days ago I stumbled across a new series on Netflix about a girl that liked to blog on Tumblr & suddenly I felt I may have an outlet to format this timeline of events.  Make no mistake about this...everything I write from this moment on is 100% true whether you choose to believe it or not.  Hell looking back....I don’t believe it sometimes & constantly find myself asking God why am I still here & why have so many perished before/besides me?  What makes me so special?

Most stories I read/watch about addiction are pretty generic.  It typically starts with someone who was injured & prescribed pain killers only to get cut off from the doctor & led down the dark & endless path of Heroin addiction.  They tell stories about the terrible things they did to maintain their habit & of loved ones they hurt along the way.  While I did horrible things as well, hurt & lost too many loved ones to addiction...this story is unlike any of the rest.  This is a story of addiction...obviously...but also one of organized crime, corruption, murder, extortion, jail/institutions, & love but mostly death.  

Every addiction specialist or rehab I have been to always had the same fault....they try to find some underlying reason as to why I started, “self medicating,” & attempt to address it.  I’ve had numerous heated arguments with councilors & doctors who insisted I was suppressing something deep down & may not even know it!  While I have heard of such instances to actually be the case I can very well tell you I am as normal as you are.  

I grew up in a child’s utopia in an upper-middle class suburb roughly 20 miles North of Detroit.  Think of the famous Tim Allen show, “Home Improvement.” Not only was I raised in Metro Detroit but I also come from a family of two parents, still married, & was the youngest of three boys.  I know most people’s perception of Detroit isn’t very high however in the 80′s & 90′s it was a great place to start a family.  Before the auto industry tanked most people skipped college to work on the assembly line at one of the, “Big Three,” (Ford, GM, or Chrysler) & lived comfortably.  My dad was a, “Safety Restraint Engineer,” for a subsidiary company with several patents still in use today!  We spent our days riding bikes through endless trails behind our house, building forts, playing back yard football, & camping in the backyard on warm summer nights.  My brothers & I were raised Catholic.  Went to Church every Sunday & Catechism on Thursday nights.  If I could change one thing about my childhood I wouldn’t.  It was that perfect!  My Father didn’t fail to raise a man...I failed to be the man he raised. 

When someone asks me why I started doing drugs I tell them because it was fun....simple as that.  I know it sounds cliche but it’s true, everyone was doing them.  My older brothers were way ahead of me, listening to Grateful Dead & dropping acid in middle school!  I just liked drugs a lot more than everyone else. My mother knew I had an addictive personality because I would take everything I did to the max & always looked for instant gratification.  I never wanted to wait/work for anything.  I think my brothers were aware of this as well because they would NEVER sell me pot in these early days.  They wouldn’t even talk to me about it.  So as far as being as normal as everyone else....maybe that one’s a stretch.  On the other hand I was years ahead of my classmates & understood how things worked much easier than the majority of my class.  

By the time I reached High School I was selling/smoking pot & hanging out with kids my age but it wasn’t long before I caught the attention of the older guys in the neighborhood.  I had already garnished a somewhat questionable reputation through my brothers by default & everyone knew my name from the paper route I had since I was roughly 12 years old.  At first they were intimidating & I hated whenever I had to deliver papers on one of their streets...praying they wouldn’t be outside playing basketball or something.  They always hung around the same two or three houses depending on who’s parents weren’t home that day.  If they saw me coming every one of them would stop what they were doing & aim their attention towards me.  All of them except one.  I knew his face & heard stories whispered about him in the hallways at school.  His name was Franco & he was not just the leader of their group...he was, “Head Fucking Hancho.”  You know the scene from mob movies where people from the neighborhood come to sit with the boss & ask him all kinds of favors in return for their loyalty?  That was Franco at age 15!  He had everyone’s respect....even that of my older brothers who looked up to nobody.  If you had a disagreement with Franco it didn’t go far.  I’ve seen him hit guys so hard they temporarily lost the ability to speak!  After a couple minutes of hazing from the guys he would shout from the porch telling them to leave me alone & they would scatter like roaches! 

These encounters would eventually lead up to my first drug deal.  Up until that point I had been stealing whatever I could from whichever brother wouldn’t notice at the time & smoking/selling it with & to my friends.  They eventually caught me & beat the living shit out of me.  I don’t think they were actually mad about the missing weed it was more about not stealing from your brother.  The same day I was caught stealing weed I planned on meeting several kids from school at a friends house & of course everyone was expecting me to bring the pot.  To this day I don’t know how I got the phone number or the guts to call it but I reached out to Franco’s best friend Mark.  I don’t really no why I chose him....any of the older guys could have found me weed.....but I knew Mark sold it regularly & to pretty much anyone.  There was no cell phones at this time so I had to call his house.  He wasn’t as angry as I expected & told me to wait 5 minutes before riding my bike towards his side of the neighborhood.  I did exactly as he instructed me to & before I could get to the end of my street he was pulling up in a dark green Ford Ranger...Frank was with him riding in the passenger seat.  Mark got out...threw my bike in the back of his truck telling me to hop in the backseat before getting back behind the wheel & pealing off.  The music was so loud I could barely understand the lyrics over the bass let alone what Frank & Mark were saying but it didn’t matter because they weren’t talking to me.  At the time I thought Mark must want to get out of the neighborhood before doing the deal but after getting to know him I learned...that was his, “thing”.  He loved to drive around, blaring music, & smoking weed with whoever was willing to tag along.  He hated driving alone & his truck was like his office.  Frank acted as if I wasn’t even there...holding a cool composure looking out the window while nodding his head to the music.  Eventually we pulled down a random street, where Mark turned down the music before pulling the truck over.  He turned around & asked me how much money I wanted to spend before opening a large grocery bag filled to the top with little, “dime bags,” or roughly a large gram of weed in each bag.  I don’t know if it was how he had them bagged up but it was more than I had ever seen in one place at the time & my brothers always had a lot.  I had a handful of crinkled five′s & one dollar bills I collected from my friends earlier in the day at school.  It came out to around $24.  I remember it was less than $25 because Mark insisted that an 8th cost $25 & that I was a dollar short.  I didn’t even know what an 8th was or how much it cost but didn't want to screw up my first deal so I pretended it was just an honest mistake & he threw three bags in my lap.  Franco asked where I was going & asked if I needed a ride which I humbly excepted.  

From that day on things changed little by little with every passing day.  I hung out less & less with the kids my age to be around Mark, Frank & the rest of the older guys.  They saw me as the kid who could sell a lot of weed since I already had that reputation from my classmates.  I saw them as a ticket to popularity.  In my mind it was an even trade.  My mother had an entirely different opinion.....constantly telling me I should be hanging around with my younger friends.  To me it was harmless....choosing to see it as normal for a kid my age.  I had no idea where this new found friendship would lead us.  I had no idea what I was getting myself into.  

As I was saying before....so much has happened since this day that I cannot even begin to piece it all together in a manner in which it flows conveniently into a timeline of events.  This is the beginning of my attempt & you will have to stick with me to learn more as I continue to publish.  I will warn you upfront that I will be changing some names, maybe even places or be vague as I am still getting death threats to this day & also don’t want to negatively impact any of the families that have already been ripped apart from unimaginable losses.  Lastly I am still weary about telling my story in it’s entirety.  I am sure those who are close to me will be able to figure out who I am since most of what I am going to tell you has never been a secret save one part.  I have never told ANYONE the FULL story other than my parents.  I feel it is the main reason I have struggled in all my attempts at telling/writing what actually happened.  Please understand that I take absolutely NO pride in the things I have done & only feel I need to document what I went through so maybe the next kid contemplating the path I chose....will rethink the decision.  I can tell you now their is no glory or honor in what we did & the end result was nothing but pain & suffering for our victims as well as ourselves.  I really hope nobody reads this the wrong way & that I am able to accurately portray the pain/anguish we caused so they realize how brainwashed we were & the impact you can have on others no matter how minor you think it is.  You have to stand up against what may seem to be the correct/hard decision at the time or even a harmless one that you know in your heart/gut is questionable & choose to do what you know to be right.  The definition of the word, “popular,” is; liked, admired, or enjoyed by many people or by a particular person or group.  The groups that are using/selling drugs are the minority & in the end you will find most are not truly your friend.  When I go on social media, looking back at all the kids I graduated with, I realize now that those who did well in school & actively participated were actually the, “cool kids.”  They are the ones posting pictures of new houses, nice cars & beautiful wives with blossoming families.  There is nothing cool about being alone & having nothing to show for the last two decades of your life but scars.  It is not romantic in any way shape or form.  You will not find comfort.  

Stay tuned for more to come! 

#addiction #drugs #illegal #heroin

[enigma-im]

The Only Exception

Rating: Teen Relationship: Male!Human X Female!Human Warning: Angst, confrontation of feelings, comfort, mild language

Word count: 2784

                The only exception by Paramore

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Love will find a way

What a load of bullshit. Love isn't some living thing, a predestined feeling that will find you like some trained bloodhound. Love takes effort, if you want it you have to find it. Cant sit at home and expect the love of your life to show up… Yet here I am. excuse me if I'm a little pissed about being wrong. I'm standing here in my PJs looking up at the most glorious man I have ever seen, feeling my heart ready to burst. This crazy son of a bitch, I've tried avoiding him for weeks and here he is like some stranger in the night. It's impossible to think he is here like I was calling him like a siren. I cant imagine thoughts can summon someone. If that were the case I'm sure I would have had Bradley Cooper in my room when I was 18.

"May I help you," I glare at the man. Him being here is like the universe laughing at me. They watch me scream and deny my wants and feelings just to make me look directly at them. Fucking universe.

"I-," he looks around worried," I'm not sure." his shoulders drop as he sighs. You have got to be fucking kidding me. I refuse to believe that he came here because of some magical pull or trance. Just bury me 6ft under if that is the case.

"Well if you don’t know then…," I trail off as I shut the door. His hand bolts up and presses against the wood. I grind my teeth with the last test of my will. I will not be in some sappy romance novel. I don’t want it, I don’t need it.

God, why do those words taste so bitter?

"No," he pushes the door open wide," I had to see you." I groan and clench my eyes shut, fighting the fluttering in my stomach. "also I had to know," he nearly whispers. He gives that look that feels like drinking hot chocolate in a blizzard. I cannot even begin to dissect that one.

"Know what," I sneer. I'm reaching the end of my patience, having only so much fight left in me. I don’t need him, I don’t need his beautiful face or corny jokes. I definitely don’t need those late-night thoughts of him holding me close while whispering praises in my ear.

"I had to know," he swallows hard," I had to know that you felt it too, on the balcony. Did you feel this…connection?" I actually groaned this time. Pouting like the child I am I marched off into my house. I fist at my hair as I wince thinking on his words. How fucking dare he, it isn't even his fault!

I hear his heavy steps follow me to the living room," Don’t tell me you didn’t feel that spark, I know you wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss you.". I fall onto the sofa, feeling drowned and suffocated. I even felt a knot in my throat, my eyes stinging. I will not cry, I don’t even know why I would but I won't. Too busy fighting back tears I startle when he sits next to me. He grabs my hands, removing them from my hair. " That night was wonderful, I never felt so natural with someone. I was so carefree with you, it felt right. We felt right," he cups my hands with his. I look up at his handsome face, wanting nothing more than hit him. I glance down at our hands, jerking mine out of his.

"No," I mumble as I stand," No! you need to leave." I step away from the couch, still fighting that empty feeling bursting from my words. It's soul-deep that I want him to stay, but I won't. I cant.

Please.

"Don’t do this. Don’t act like we don’t have something here," he nearly shouts. I grasp on to the little bit of anger I feel. The anger I can handle, anger is easy.

I turn to him," You march into my house unannounced and demand answers from me!". I stomp up to him, his glare fueling my already weak attempts of rage. "you wanna know what I felt," my eyes sting," Nothing."

The second the words leave my mouth I feel a tear trail down my cheek. Another following right after, then another. I try with a white-knuckled grip to hold on to my anger, but the lie is too bitter. I felt everything that night, it was like a fairy tale. Our conversation flowed naturally, never giving to any awkward pauses. Whenever we were silent it was still comforting, it felt right.

I stand strong despite my tears, watching him with a stubborn amount of distaste. He just watches me with pity. Not the kind that you give to someone lesser than you but the one you give to someone who is hurting themselves. That person who is doing something toxic to themselves but refusing to acknowledge it. I don’t like that look, I don’t like that I know I am being toxic. I just can't handle it, I can't love another person.

"Babe," he drops his shoulders. I wince at the tenderness of his tone.

I take a step back," don’t call me that."

He takes a step forward," Doll."

"No," I say louder. I walk backward, holding up a finger at him. He still gives me that 'I will cherish you always' look and it feels like being punched. "Stop that," I shout as I round the coffee table.

He continues following me," what's wrong?"

I circle the table so it's between us," Besides you not leaving, nothing." he tries to walk around to me but I circle with him, keeping on the opposite side. He walks around again but I step with him.

"I can't fix it if I don’t know what wrong," he says dejectedly. He looks almost pained, it's hard to fathom why. Don’t men love just leaving when a woman cries? Why won't he leave if this hurts him so?

"Then leave," I snort up some snot. I won't lie and say I wasn’t attempting to be gross. If he thinks I'm not this princess he made up in his mind then he will leave. He huffs with agitation, leaning down and grabbing the coffee table. Quickly he jerks it out of the way and stomps towards me.

"I will not leave until you give me an honest fucking answer," he snarls. Panic curls up against my spine as I walk backward. He continues charging forward like a man on a mission. My anger fades and replaces with honest fear. Not fear of him but fear of what he could make me do.

I startle when my back hits the wall, I nearly choke on my gasp. He corners me till his chest is against mine, his forearms braced on either side of my head. His hot breath strokes over my face. I can't look at him, I can barely even move. I flatten my hands to the wall and try to make some room between us. He just fills the space with himself, leaving no option but to see him, feel him.

"Babe," he starts surprisingly gentle," please." my breath falters, my eyes flutter like crazy. I don’t notice when I start shuddering, the fear engulfing me. I don’t like confrontation, especially when it's my feelings. My heart aches and I feel on the verge of a panic attack. I chew on my lip, trying to figure any way out of this. I slowly look from his chest to him, wincing at the open care in his eyes. In a last-ditch effort, I look directly at him.

"Please," I whimper. I blink a tear from my eye as I fist my hand against the wall, "please."

He closes his eyes and rests his forehead to mine," it's ok, I got you. Just tell me what's wrong." another tear rolls down my cheek, both hating and relishing the intimacy. Its been so long since I've felt it.

"Please," my lip trembles," I cant. I cant -"

"Shh, it's ok. Just breathe, everything is ok," he interrupts. He coos near my ear, nuzzling his head against mine. When he leans down to kiss a tear off my face I break. I bury my wet face to his neck, reaching up and fisting his shirt. I white knuckle his clothing, still trying pointlessly to fight. Tears run down my face like a stream, soaking into his collar.

"I can't," I hiccup," I can't do it again." his hands fall from the wall to cradle me against him. It feels like being stabbed, my heart clenching in a suffocating grip. I don’t just cry against him but weep. It's embarrassing, to say the least.

"Do what again," he whispers. His fingers card through my hair, trying his best to give a modicum of comfort. It has the opposite effect. His care makes me ache, his soothing cooing rips pieces from my heart. I can't do this again, I can't fall for someone. It’s a lousy trap, a cycle that always happens. It starts wonderful but it ends with someone dying on the inside.

"Please, I beg of you," I wrap my arms around him. I squeeze him tight despite my want for him to leave. The want vs the need battle in my head and limbs. I want him to go, but I need him to stay.

"Talk to me, I beg of you," he reroutes my words. His voice is pained like mine, it makes me sick.

"I can't fall in love again, I can't do it," I tremble," I refuse to do it again." it’s a losing battle. Feelings don’t give a damn about your desires. They demand to be felt, demand to be heard. My stubborn self will still fight them till the end. I will be defiant until my dying breath if I have to. It’s a stupid thing to think.

"Why," he squeezes me as tight as I hold him. I can't help but notice his smell. It's warm like his voice, playful like his personality, comforting like his hugs. I give myself just a second to enjoy it. I soak in the satisfying feeling of being held. I relish the quick kisses to my head. I inhale his intoxicating smell. Just for a second, that’s all I can take.

"I can't handle it, I won't allow you to hurt me," I realize how tight I'm clenching him. I shouldn’t be holding him. Realizing this I drop my arms and weasel them between us. I feel him stiffen, his fingers digging into my back. I try to push him away but he holds strong, staying as stubborn as me.

"No," he keeps me flushed to the wall," talk to me. I want you to give this a chance, we will talk this out like adults."

"No," I answer like a child. I push against him, beating the heel of my hand against his sternum. I even try kicking him, hitting his shin a few times. He grunts with a particularly good kick then use his legs to keep my detained.

"Stop it," he growls," you are acting like a tantrum-throwing child."

I continue pushing," then leave if I'm so insufferable."

"Doll, stop trying to push me away. I'm not leaving till we work this out," he nearly shouts. His rumbling in his chest vibrates against my hands. He has a nice voice, even when he is scolding me.

"Why are you trying so hard," I huff in frustration. Everyone I have ever met wouldn’t have put up with this. I'm not worth the effort he is using. I cannot imagine the few weeks we have known each other has fueled his attractions enough to want to fight for me. I won't allow it, his attempts are in vain.

He sighs," Because I think we have something here. I think I can make you happy and I know you can make me happy. I want to give us a try, last night was…breathtaking. I have never felt anything so tangible before. I've never wanted something more in my life." I stop breathing, finding it also hard to swallow. I don’t want to hear this. The thought from last night when I was alone in my bed resurfaces. I can imagine us settling for the night, him spooning me from behind. His hands-on my waist and hips. His lips pressing soft kisses to the back of my neck. He leans over and whispers soft praises in my ear. God, I want that so bad.

I lose my strength, falling limp against him. His fighting hold relaxes, his legs unblocking mine. I rest my forehead to his chest. I take in his soothing scent, just giving up. I want to fight but my emotions don’t care what I want.

"I just don’t want to be hurt again," I mumble," I can't handle another heartbreak. I'd rather be shot than feel that again." he settles his hand on the back of my neck. He tilts me so my cheek rests on his chest. He looks at me, looking over my puffy, tear-stained face. I probably look so defeated, so weak.

He surprises me by giving a shy smile," Why you so certain that I will hurt you?"

"How can I be certain you won't?"

His fingers comb through my hair," You can't, that’s why it isn't easy. If it was then how could you know if it was genuine?" I pout. It’s a good answer, I won't lie, but the risk is still too great.

"Doesn’t sound like a fair trade," I huff. My head begins the ache, my limbs feeling heavy and drained. I close my eyes just for a moment, not ignoring the benefit of not having to look at him. I hear his chuckle deep in his chest, feel my head bounce with his pecs.

"Depends on the love I guess, I know you will be worth the risk," he pets over my back. I sigh with his tenderness. His smell and strokes keep the headache tamed.

"You barely know me," I grumble.

"True," he grins," but the parts I do know of you have been wonderful. I'm anxious to get to know more." he waits for an answer but I can't bother to figure one out. I'm tired and greedy. His hold feels safe, his clothes soft, his voice soothing. I can allow myself just this before I send him away.

He sighs when he figures I'm not going to answer," Listen, I cant promise you that everything will work out. This is real life, not some fairy tale. Still, I can promise you honesty and openness. I can be the man you deserve until one of us decides that being just friends is better. Hell, I can be your friend first. We can take things slow and just hang out, no commitments. How does that sound? All I'm asking for is a chance."

I dissect his words like an obsessed idiot. I appreciate his candor, even if it sucks. I know fairy tales don’t exist but god do I wish they do. I want everlasting love to exists, to have a soulmate. It’s a silly, childish thing to want. Still, he is willing to go at my pace, even being friends with no romantic commitments. As great as it sounds I hate the thought of being with him but not being with him. My heart wants all or nothing, but my brain wants slow. Perhaps I can compromise then? A few dates, just getting to know each other. I adore the idea of calling him my boyfriend but the fear taints the image. Slow, I think I can do slow.

"I don’t want to be friends," I start. I feel his back stiffen under my hand, his breath catching in his throat. "But," I look up at him," I don’t want you to go."

He cocks a brow," then what is it that you want?"

I rub my cheek to his shirt," slow. I want slow, but I want to be exclusive."

"Slow," his lips quirk," I can do that. If that’s what you want then I'm happy to provide." I can't help but smile, a bit of warmth spreading over the cold fear. Yea, I can do slow. I'm not stupid enough to think it will be easy but I'm optimistic enough to think it will work.

Love hurts, but he might be the only exception.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Not a monster story, not from lack of trying. i was going to go with a deity but to be honest this story was for me to write out my feelings. Love and i have a complicated relationship. i try to fight it tooth and nail because its failed me often.

also lot of this stuff i wrote is something you have to experience to really get. like once i tried to ask my ex’s best friend if my ex ever loved me and i literally couldnt say it. feelings got stuck in my throat so instead of facing it i buried very deep. cause sometimes you would rather be shot than confess that you loved someone who didnt love you. feeling are hard, love is even harder.

#the only exception #human x human #angst #comforting

[trashkweeen-blog]

Class with the Countess - LuAnn de Lesseps

Oh, sweet LuAnn. Where do I start?

I have a love for the Countess that I truly cannot explain. I’m struggling to think of an instance where I was ever on her side. Literally every cool thing she does is almost immediately undone by an equal or greater uncool thing. 

Fucking a Jack Sparrow look alike on vacation was pretty cool. Trying to cover it up with the worst French i have ever heard come out of a French Canadian Mi’kmaw with parents from New Brunswick and Quebec was pretty uncool. I can’t really decide whether forcibly inviting herself on Bethenny’s Mexico trip that never happened, while wearing a white Armani suit, then leaving Bethenny with the bill was cool or not. I mean, it was objectively uncool, but I’m kinda here for anyone who pulls a power move on Bethenny. 

She called Carole a pedophile, then couldn’t spell it to apologize over text. Like, she just can’t help herself. She’s just self-aware enough to realize the moments in which we root for her, but not quite self-aware enough to carry them through. Like the fact that she literally sends this gif to people over text when they call her out on being the worst.

You give her one inch of approval and she will use it to the worst ends. She’s at her best when she’s raw and vulnerable and decidedly un-countess, but then she’ll invariably use those cool points to do something very countess. She’s like a snake eating her own tail, and I honestly can’t figure out why I love her so much for it. 

The best I can determine is that she’s like the Tony Soprano of the Real Housewives franchise. Not for obvious reasons - because our Lady Guidice wins there - but because she is such a compelling anti-hero that you kind of hate to love. 

Like Tony, she’s trapped in this inescapable delusion that romanticizes a golden age she caught glimpses of during her rise. She can’t keep from referencing royalty and high society she met and idolized in her youth, skiing in Gstaad, and dining with kings. Instead of seeing the absurdity and temporariness of it all, she bought right in. She saw her trash ass husband cycle through a handful of wives before her, but thought she was bulletproof. And now she coasts on the fantasy. 

And there’s hardly a moment that your sympathies don’t lie with whoever LuAnn is mistreating at any given time. You’re watching a character who can’t help but fuck up and hurt people, but who manages to mitigate our condemnation with rare moments of vulnerable confessionals. 

She’s a tragic anti-hero; you can watch her get arrested while threatening to kill cops, but when she shows up in an open robe and makes you laugh, you’re like well, maybe that cop deserved it.

So, i love LuAnn, and Class with the Countess was the book I was looking forward to reviewing the most. It was published right as the second season of #RHONY was airing, so we’re in a pre-Countless era here. We’re at peak Countess, getting advice from a woman who thinks she’s locked it all down, and who has yet to bang a pirate. 

I have no intention of going after low-hanging fruit here, by the way. I’m not going to count the ways that LuAnn doesn’t practice what she preaches. That’s tedious. So here’s what I learned from my “crash course in manners from New York’s favourite countess”.

The first section of the book, The Art of Being Yourself, is all about confidence, adventure, and casually moving to Milan to appear on Italian TV as a Sharon Stone impersonator? I don’t know. The first thing I truly loved about this section was LuAnn’s stated purpose for appearing on #RHONY - to expose her children to how technicians make television happen. I’m sorry, no. No, you didn’t. You absolutely did not agree to #RHONY so your kids could learn lighting and sound production. If Bravo has any footage of Victoria and Noel taking notes behind the scenes, please, I would love to see this. 

As long as I’m calling bullshit (and this is, like, the last time I will), I gotta address how LuAnn insists on referring to herself as American Indian. Carole has already schooled her on the preferred nomenclature (LuAnn’s iconic response below), so I’m not touching that. 

No, my beef is that the bitch is Canadian. Her father was from NEW BRUNSWICK. Sorry, countess, but I’m now claiming you. ONE OF US. ONE OF US. ONE OF US. 

Anyway, here are the highlights of the Canadian Countess’ advice for being your best self:

get a hobby (Jill Zarin!), preferably tennis or cabaret singing

don’t ever brush your hair in public. who was doing this? No, you know what, probably Ramona. 

when wearing Jimmy Choos, take “normal-length strides”. this is very key and very helpful. do not walk in lunges. you will never be elegant if your strides are not of normal length

have healthy gums????????

literally chew your food. I’m 100% serious, this book for real says that while in a “monastic Austrian spa”, LuAnn learned that chewing your food “thoroughly” makes it taste better. She spent the money on monastic chewing lessons so you don’t have to. stop swallowing your food whole, there’s a better way!

dramatize your look with an “eye-catching belt buckle”. i hate this so much.

The majority of this section reads like a Cosmo article that spans 82 pages, and contains about 3 pages of useful information. I’m down to hear your favourite makeup products and your go-to weekend bag staples. Why I also had to read 79 pages of LuAnn teaching me how to walk and eat like a person, as if i’m some sort of cursed beast recluse is beyond me. It is my sincere wish that we send this book to space as a reference guide for visiting aliens. 

The second section - The Art of Making People Comfortable - is my favourite. It somehow covers the gamut of social scenarios from like, eating at your friend’s house, to how you should address a king when in casual conversation for the second time. I now know not to wear gloves in the presence of a king, and that you can call a queen ma’am, which, like, does not sound right. 

Royal greetings aside though, this section is actually pretty legit. 

Which countries air kiss, and how many kisses to give? 

What are you sniffing for when the sommelier brings you a bottle of wine to taste? (cork)

How much should you tip a restroom attendant? ($1)

Which fork is the salad fork?(the leftmost one)

Where do you put your napkin when you get up from the table, but you’re coming back? (the chair)

There are checklists for dinner parties, cocktail parties, and overnight guest hosting. There are go-to dinner party menus. There are gift ideas for hostesses. There are even template diplomatic answers to awkward questions, opening lines for cocktail small talk, and conversation-enders. 

This section is actually super useful and I loved it. I’m not even touching the chapter on children. I’m saving all my capacity to judge parenting advice for Alex McCord’s book. 

The last section, though. Ugh. The Art of Seduction. 

I guess, first of all, I wanna say that LuAnn was a way hotter model than I expected. Whenever she talks about her modelling days, I always picture something like the cover of this book - a Wal-Mart portrait studio, waist-up shot of LuAnn in a statement necklace and a sensible blouse, selling me like, grapefruit spoons, or something. But this section opens with this photo:

and she was actually such a babe! good for you, Countess!

Anyway, this section made me barf into my hands. Here are some of LuAnn’s tips for catching your man:

have the kind of sex appeal that makes strangers on vespas pinch your ass as they drive by. This is not at all a chilling example of sexual harassment, but rather aspirational, and a sign that you’re doing something right. thank you, vespa man for validating my femininity!

find a good man by playing damsel in distress at tech shops. Listen, my boyfriend is a walking tech shop, and i can tell you for 100% certain that (a) he would not recognize a damsel in distress if his life depended on it, (b) his peripheral awareness while comparing gaming keyboards is slim to none, and (c ) he wants to explain RAM to me like my ex wanted to explain football scoring to me, which is zero amount. Do not do this. 

you can also find a good man in upscale men’s stores by discussing ties with them. Please do not walk alone aimlessly in clothing stores, telling men about ties. They will literally just assume you work there. I cannot fathom a scenario in which this is not weird. 

Maintain the romance in your relationship by surprising your husband on his business trip by showing up dressed as a Moroccan princess in disguise????? Maybe when the Count cheated with that Ethiopian princess, he just thought it was LuAnn again?????

Keep your grooming a mystery from your husband. Apply your skin care and makeup in private, and don’t let him see you pluck your eyebrows. How large of a house do you need in order to maintain this level of mystique? What if your husband finds your secret room filled with tweezers and lotion??? 

Don’t try to be emotional with your man, that’s what girlfriends are for!! Men aren’t as emotional as women, so don’t burden them with your hysterics. Do like they did in olden times, and get your hysteria cured by a doctor who gives orgasms. (also, like, that’s bananas, but I do very much wish that basic health insurance still covered getting beat off by a professional for emotional release)

make friends with doormen, including those at buildings you don’t live in, because you never know when they’ll lend you a helping hand. If this isn’t the most ho tip I’ve ever heard. I love it. 

Overall, this book is much like the Countess herself: there are moments of sweet, new money Molly Brown gently helping you use the right fork to keep from embarrassing yourself in front of Billy Zane.

But there are also several moments of your status-hungry mother smothering your kidneys with a girdle, and telling you to speak softly, polish your jewels and get to fucking Billy Zane. 

Quick Stats:

Pages: 258

Did it need to be that many pages: good sweet god, no

Did it change my mind about the housewife? It was better than I expected, but there’s no way to change my mind about LuAnn anyway. I’m a Countess apologist for life. 

Real-ass book rating: 📖📖/5

Junk food book rating: 💎💎💎/5

#rhony #real housewives #real housewives of new york #luann de lesseps

[100lbsofsalt]

Hello yes I literally cannot sleep right now because I’m upset as hell, why am I upset? Because Erik fucking deserved better.

“Ah but he’s a serial killer that lied to and manipulated a young girl” yes, this is technically true, but sit the fuck down, buckle up, and let me rant.

Now, of course all of this varies from movie to play to book but for the sake of my argument we’re gonna go with my unpopular opinion fave i.e. the 2004 adaptation of the movie (which will likely be where a lot of people will have seen it so SHUSH).

Now, the movie boops around in time a lot but for arguments sake we’re gonna follow Erik’s life chronologically.

Let’s start off with we little bb Erik, shall we? Now, a lot of his history is only hinted at, and I’m going to try to keep my own headcanons out of this as much as I can manage, but how about how his own mother couldn’t bear to look at him. 

“A face which earned a mother’s fear and loathing, a Mask, my first unfeeling scrap of clothing”

Would it be wrong to assume that that means that even before momma Destler changes her infant son’s diaper she has to cover his face because she’s too disgusted to look at him. Or how about the fact it’s likely he came from an impoverished family (let’s be real those weren’t the best of times okay it’s a safe assumption he wasn’t a one percenter), and he likely didn’t have any real clothes (ahem, his burlap sack pants in the Gypsy scene?) but his mother hated his face so much she was willing to buy him a mask just to cover it? And how did he wind up with the gypsies in the first place, hmmmmm???

The movie really doesn’t say that so we’re gonna leave you to figure that out, NO HEADCANONS FROM ME TODAY FRIEND (I have so many. About this whole movie. Please come talk to me I’m very lonely.)

Now, onto the gypsy’s themselves. Can we just. Erik was what, seven? Eight? In that scene? Maybe younger? And they were brutally beating him while hundreds (Thousands, it’s not like this is the only show he’s been used as an attraction at) of people laughed at his pain. I mean. Is it hard to see why he has such a fucked up sense of morality when he spent his childhood seeing all those people laugh at his agony. And the MONKEY TOY I WANNA DIE. Okay okay. Anyway. They appear to be using a long tail bull whip which HURT okay? Those are not for people (or anything but this isn’t the post for that). Those will rip you to shreds. Now, I’m not a whip expert so I DON’T WANT ANYONE COMIN’ UP IN HERE LIKE NO ITS ___ WHIP AND ITS ____ BITCH THEY’RE W H I P P I N G A YOUNG C H I L D I DON’T CARE IF IT’S MADE OF COTTON CANDY AND RAINBOWS. Like honestly are we gonna blame him for murdering that piece of shit? For real I would have killed him for the creepy tongue thing alone and Erik suffered years of abuse at his hand, keep in mind, we only saw ONE part of ONE show, WHERE HE WASN’T EVEN STRUGGLING REALLY, we have no idea what they did to that poor boy at other shows, behind the scenes, etc. And again. That monkey toy. I wanna die.

Now, on to his living situation (here’s where we’re gonna boop around a little, we’re gonna ignore Christine’s existence a little longer). He lived, by himself, in the sewers (call them catacombs if you want they’re fucking sad gross places either way I don’t care). He was a kid, locked away from anyone else. So let’s think about this. He learned that he’s so terrible even his mother can’t love him just because of his face, he was beaten to shit and laughed at to make money because he’s so terrible, just because of his face, he watched a shit load of people laugh at his pain without trying to help (until Giry and even she only helped after he did the hard part), and then he’s locked away, alone, in a creepyass, wet, dongeon. I mean. Would you be holding it together? I sure as fuck wouldn’t. And yeah I’m sure Giry visited him and whatever but how often do you really think she went down there? She was studying to be a ballerina at a world famous opera house, she didn’t have free time, and still that’s only one person making face to face contact with him for what? 15 years? A long ass time regardless.

And now we boop to Christine. Again this part isn’t really shown, but with “whenever I’d come down here alone, to light a candle for my father”, are you willing to agree that when young Erik saw her, by herself, having little to no experience of kindness out of other people, really reached out to be malicious? He was probably scared out of his fucking mind, but he saw this little girl grieving as he’d grieved his own life, and he decided to try to comfort her. She was probably the one that came up with the Angel Of Music thing (I say probably because it’s never explicitly said, but come on, there’s no way he would have randomly come up with that, you can also listen to Emmy talk about her “latching on” because she wanted so desperately for it to be a Thing and that they really were good friends etc but I’m just gonna stick to stuff you can get directly from the movie) and he went with it. Now, there are a ton of reasons he could have gone with it (“Learn to see to find the man behind the monster this repulsive carcass who seems a beast but secretly yearns for heaven secretly, secretly dreams of beauty”..........) but none are directly stated so I’ll fuck off and let you decide.

Now, he taught her to sing. Ask any artist ever and they’ll tell you if they’re sharing their work with you they’re sharing a very intimate part of themselves with you. It doesn’t matter the style, art is personal, and he cared enough about this girl to not only show her his art but to teach it to her.* I cannot fathom that love okay and all of this from a creature who was born into a world of hate and darkness and here he is creating beauty and sharing his work I love him okay. And yes, he falls in love with her. I’m not gonna share my thoughts on that love (She was the first person to treat him like a human, to be his friend and never once did she judge him for his looks, just keep that in mind.) but he falls in love with her, more on that in a little bit.

* No One Would Listen isn’t technically in the movie so I’m not saying anything about it, but a lot of my opinions are solidified in it, so if you Haven’t heard it you need to it’s a beautiful song sung to the tune of Learn to be Lonely which Minnie SLAYS jesus shit *aggressively heart eyes* but it directly says that he wanted to share his art and teach the wold but she was the only one who listened

As for torturing Carlotta……………. I mean, me too, I can’t fault him for that……

THEIR MEETING. TIME OUT. THE MIRROR SCENE. THE CHOREOGRAPHY. THE SMOKE. THE CHANGE FROM ANGEL TO PHANTOM. THIS SCENE IS ENTIRELY MY AESTHETIC. Okay I’m good sorry. So. They go down to his home. He takes this girl. Into his HOME. He’s been mistreated his whole life and he willingly leads this girl down into his sanctuary. Think about that for a minute. 

Okay. Anyway, yes the wedding dress is hella creepy but LISTEN. He wasn’t raised with people. He’s stuck in the opera house, he doesn’t see real relationships and even if he does he only sees bits and pieces of them out of the people WHILE THEY’RE THERE he’s never seen or heard about or learned about a real proposal, he’s only seen countless operas, and you know what the fuck happens in romantic plays/operas/movies/musicals/books/stories/literally anything? They move fast, they skip time, they’re over the top. People don’t watch shit that’s real life, no one would want to see that, but that’S ALL HE KNOWS. I’ll let you think of it what you will, but I think he was genuinely trying to woo her as best he knew how.

Mask off scene. Okay. Now. Aside from the fact Gerard grabs the wrong side of his face at one point, (seriously, go rewatch it) Erik does shove Christine, which is not okay buuuuut he’s fucking terrified, and I’m not convinced he meant to shove her, more get her away from him before she saw his face. (we also get some insight on his view of himself and I. Want. To. Die.) but I’ll leave you to take what you will from that scene.

*sigh* killing Joseph is the next thing I want to touch on and this is the one where I want to boop his deformed little nose a little but… I mean… I have a couple points still. 

One: the dude was a creep

two: he went looking for him

three: ERIK WARNED THEM IN NO UNCERTAIN TERMS “A disaster beyond your imagination will occur” (can we talk about the dolls. Erik. Fucking nerd.)

Four: Joseph openly mocked and taunted Erik (you think he didn’t hear that no nose comment *sassy finger snap*)

Five: He grew up only knowing violence. People laughed at his pain. Again his only real knowledge is opera and again people kill in those to get what they want? He’s just a wee potato trying his best.

Now let me bash my son for a moment, he was getting what he wanted, Christine was gonna play the countess, but instead we got All I Ask of You and I died inside (There may be another rant on my utter hatred of Raoul to come but this is already 1.5k words and I’m only like halfway through the movie so MOVING ON)

Alright, so All I Ask of You Reprise is technically the next place where Erik says/does anything but let’s talk about what’s happening right in front of him right now. He’s in love with this woman. He has tried his fucking hardest, he’s made her famous, he’s tried to woo her, he’s been there for YEARS, then this rich boy with a pretty face comes in and she’s falling into his arms in no time? Like yes it’s a bit fuckboi of him but also take into account what she said about him before the actual song. (“His eyes will find us there those eyes that burn” “I can’t escape from him I never will” “his world of unending night to the world where the daylight dissolves into darkness” “Can I ever escape from that face so distorted deformed it was hardly a face”) I mean… I’d be fucking hurt and pissed… So yeah the “you will curse the day you did not do all that the phantom asked of you” is a bit much but… HE’S PISSED and hurt and heartbroken.

Why So Silent and the ring I’m going to leave at he’s fucking hurt but yes I want to boop his nose for that one too… like Erik stop being a creep no one’s chains are yours.

As well as Journey to the Cemetery and Wandering Child like here he’s wrong and I have no argument against him being wrong, my only comment is that he could have killed the taxi driver but he just knocked him out so like… Yay?

Don Juan… Okay come on he knew it was a trap so he had to have just trusted she wouldn’t go through with it but… *Sigh* SON STOP KILLING PEOPLE. AND NO KIDNAPPING TEENAGE GIRLS.

Okay but Down Once More we get to see a lot of the stuff I’ve already mentioned (his mom, how he feels about himself, etc) and he’s furious and scared and hurt and embarrassed and he’s a cornered animal at this point. His home is gone, he knows that, he has to leave and this is his last chance to get the only person who’s ever heard him, who’s ever been a friend to him and shared his love of music, to come with him. Point of No Return Reprise is another thing I want to boop him for, but he does let them go, and he does give up and let her choose what she wants to be happy with one last ditch effort of just being honest (“Christine I love you”) and then he watches them go. The only person he has in the world, leaving him back in his world of darkness.

So, in conclusion, ERIK IS A SMOL PRECIOUS BEAN WHO DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER AND YES HE MADE MISTAKES BUT HE’S DOING HIS BEST AND PEOPLE ARE FAR TOO MEAN TO HIM I HOPE HE KNOWS HOW MUCH I LOVE HIM

#phantom of the opera #I was way too upset about this #I typed this entire thing at 2 am what am I doing #erik destler #raoul de chagny #christine daae #my son #I love him so much

[morethanamillennial]

The Time to Speak Up Is Now

I’m not here to complain about being the victim. In fact, I don’t even know if I’m the victim. People tell me I am, but each flashback brings forth feelings of guilt. “You know that’s the textbook definition of it not being your fault, right?” my current boyfriend said to me. “That man is a f*cking pig,” my therapist reiterated each session. “You should sue him,” my father insisted. But let’s rewind to before I shocked my closest friends and family with the news that I’d been sexually harassed at work.

I was 21 and freshly out of my first real relationship of three years. It was abusive, mostly verbally, but regardless, my self-esteem had dwindled down to nothing. I had to move out of my ex’s house and back in with my dad who lived an hour away. The only problem was my restaurant job of two years was right down the street from my ex’s, but I loved working there so much that I continued to make the commute. Fast-forward to two or three months of being single; I was incredibly self-destructive and lost. Childhood daddy issues aside, I sought for any male acknowledgment I could find to fill the void. I worked doubles almost every day. I had nightmares of my bed being glued to the ground of the restaurant (and if that doesn’t speak volumes then I don’t know what does). Needless to say, my social life was zilch. Niente. Nothing. The only people I saw were my coworkers and my boss. My boss had always been like a father to me; he’d listen to my problems, help me out financially if I needed it, supported my schooling and writing aspirations...until he reached down my shirt. To put this into perspective, he was three times my age (yes, 60 years old), married, and had three kids (all of whom were older than me). Regardless, I allowed it to happen. Yes, I had a few drinks, but I was coherent enough to know what was going on. He even asked permission and I said it was okay. To this day I absolutely regret that very moment. Soon enough, this man was reaching up my dress and squeezing my ass whenever I went to the back office, even to ask him work-related questions. I didn’t give him permission to do that; he simply assumed he could because of that one time I let him put his hand down my shirt. Eventually, I began to purposely avoid the office if I knew he was in there alone. At the time, I just accepted the situation as it was. I saw it as nothing more than a minor inconvenience. I was terribly mistaken. As time went on, these types of situations continued to escalate. I’ll never forget one of the first nights when we were the last two out of the restaurant and he whipped out his penis in the middle of a parking lot next to a busy street and asked me to “kiss” it. There is no other way to describe the feeling I felt besides pressured. Definitely pressured. I said no and used the excuse that we were next to a busy road to get out of it, but that only got me out of it for that night. Looking back, I should have slapped that man in his face. Apparently, spontaneously whipping out his penis wasn’t a one-time thing. It happened several more times. But one of those times I remember more vividly than others; something in my brain finally clicked. We were the last two in the restaurant again and as I was trying to leave, he unzipped his pants. I turned around and his penis was hard and out. He grabbed onto my arm and pulled my hand to touch it. He was obviously stronger than me and the way he pulled me was aggressive. At that moment, I knew THIS was not OK. “Don’t f*cking do that,” I said to him. After sternly giving him a piece of my mind, a piece that neither of us knew I had, he reluctantly apologized...but it didn’t change the massive amount of respect I had lost for him. Suddenly, I’d realized what a monster this man was.  This part of this story I’ve contemplated leaving out because it’s very personal, but if this has ever happened to another girl, maybe this will help her feel less alone. There was one particular night when we were behind the bar after all of the other employees left, and I let him go down on me. We were both drunk. I don’t entirely remember why or how it happened; maybe a deliberate mental block. He was sick and had a cold sore. I don’t need to say more. The tests confirmed it, many, many tears were shed, and I’ve never been so angry at a man in my entire life.  After all of the doctors’ appointments and money spent on medication, I dug myself into a deep depression. I felt as if I’d never be worthy of being loved by someone in the future, that I wouldn’t be able to have kids, that I’ve ruined my life because of this man. Evidently, all of this wasn’t enough for me to find a new job; I was horribly afraid of leaving my comfort zone. Soon enough, I found myself working with my boss’ son almost every day. He was about a year and a half older than me. We ended up dating very on-and-off for about three years. I think I did it as a self-defense mechanism so his dad would never make me feel like I had to have sex with him again. It worked–for the most part. The first few times we broke up (which was a frequent occurrence because you can’t force yourself to love someone if you don’t) his father still tried pursuing things with me. He would shower me with compliments...then ask me to follow him to another parking lot. Throughout the three years of dating his son, I attempted to re-establish that fatherly relationship I initially had with him, but this time as a father-in-law. His wife was such a nice woman and always bought me gifts around the holidays or when she went on trips. She had no idea I had slept with both her husband and her son. The guilt ate away at me every day. Not to mention, I told my ex that I slept with his father. He still stayed with me. When we finally broke up, I left the restaurant. I told my boss that his son knew about our affairs and now the two of them share the same knowledge. Naturally, my boss was shocked and afraid that his son would tell his wife if he were angry one day down the road. I had to remind myself that this was no longer my problem and I had to focus on bettering myself and my life. Weeks later, I tried contacting my now ex-boss to wish him a happy birthday but received a message back from his wife saying she and her husband are respecting their son’s wishes by not contacting me. And just like that we never spoke again.  For some reason, I was a little heartbroken. Maybe because I had been left alone with the reminder of this man every day for the rest of my life because of this daily, lifelong medication I have to take. Or maybe because I had to leave behind my other coworkers who I loved or the customers who I had grown close to. When trying to explain my feelings about the situation to friends and family, no one could understand why I allowed any of it to happen in the first place, which is understandable. Even I, to this day, cannot fathom why I let it go so far. Through all of this, the point is sexual harassment in the workplace is real; in fact, it’s an epidemic. Older men taking advantage of young distressed women is real. Depression and self-destructive behavior are real. All of these problems are real and need to be addressed and the time to speak up about them is now. I’m writing this because I want men and women in the workplace to be reminded that if your boss, or any of your coworkers, is making you feel uncomfortable in ANY way, you need to say something. It sounds easier said than done, but when it comes down to it if you don’t stand up for yourself, who will? It’s your body; your own personal bubble. DON’T go along with it because you’re afraid of losing your job or you’re worried they won’t like you anymore. DON’T put yourself in a situation where because you didn’t initially speak up you now have to avoid certain situations so you won’t have hands shoved up your dress or down your shirt. Similarly, if you’ve contracted a sexually transmitted disease, you’re not alone. You’re not incapable of being loved again and it’s easy to fall into this horrible pit of despair where you think that’s the case. It’s NOT. You are worthy of being loved. I repeat: you are not in this by yourself, no matter how isolated you might feel. Do whatever you have to do to love, appreciate, and respect yourself as a woman, as a man, as a human being. Don’t second-guess yourself; the time to speak up is now.

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#anon #anonymous submissions #anonymous post #anonymous #submission #love #lethal love #relationships #relatable #rm drake #writer #bravery #walking away #twenty-something

[foundcarcosa]

clxii.

On Saturdays, I like to… >> I don’t have anything specific that I prefer to do only on Saturdays.

Where would you like to be a missionary to? >> Anywhere that could benefit from someone who wants to do good, but not necessarily in the name of religion. I wouldn’t want the people I helped to assume that I only helped them with the intention of converting them to something. So... I guess I wouldn’t be a missionary, not technically.

What’s better — toilet paper rolled over top or underneath? >> I prefer over-the-top.

Which Scooby-Doo character are you most like (Scooby, Shaggy, Daphne, Fred, Velma, the monster, Scrappy?) >> I’m not sure. I haven’t seen Scooby-Doo in forever and I’ve forgotten a lot of the character traits.

If you had to endure one natural disaster (i.e. hurricane, tornado, etc), what would you pick and why? >> I see no sense in picking one over the others. Mostly I would prefer not to endure a natural disaster, but if one happens, I’d like to be prepared for it, or given enough time to evacuate.

What movie or TV show do you take guilty pleasure in watching? >> I prefer my pleasures to not be riddled with guilt.

If you had to describe your day as a traffic sign, what would it be? >> ... Slow? 

What traditional stereotype would you classify yourself as? >> I prefer not to classify myself using stereotypes. I figure that’s for others to do if they so choose.

What “group” did you belong to in high school? >> I didn’t.

If you wrote a book about yourself…what would it be about? >> Just about my life. I think it’d be a fun read. Or an unsettling one. Probably both.  If your house were burning down, what would you take and why? >> If the residents were taken care of, then probably Heimdall. It’s not like I couldn’t replace it and everything on it, it’s just the only possession I’d think twice about leaving behind. It my baby. <3 Although to be logical, I should probably say my Important Documents(TM). And my wallet. Replacing identification and documents is a bitch.

Describe your favorite pair of PJ’s. >> I don’t have a favourite, I like them all equally.

How many handbags do you own? >> Zero.

If this were your last day alive, what would you say to your friends? >> That’s not something that I can fathom well enough to give a good response to. 

What is your very favorite part of your day? >> Well, that would depend on the day.

What is your best scar? Tell the story of how you got it. >> “Best”, meaning...?

You win a million dollars, but you have to give half to a charity. Which charity do you pick, and what do you do with the rest of the money? >> New Alternatives NYC. Or Covenant House. Or something similar. I don’t know what I’d do with the rest of the money. I can’t properly fathom $500,000 in the first place.

Describe your dream wedding where money is no option. >> Money is no option for any wedding I participate in, because it’s not going to be expensive in the first place. I think big weddings are unconscionably unnecessary and wasteful.

What kind of deodorant do you use? >> I use Degree right now, but I might switch brands. I don’t like the residue it leaves, seeing as I wear mostly black shirts.

If you were a spy what would your alias be? >> I don’t know. I don’t want to be a spy.

Do you have a birth mark? Where? Does it look like anything? >> No. 

You are planning the most awesome dinner party of your life. Which 3 celebrities/historical figures (past or present) would you add to your guest list to keep the dinner talk interesting? >> Eh, I don’t really care for this, but I’ll humour the question -- three figures: Nikola Tesla, Giordano Bruno, Carl Sagan. All at one table. Should be fun to watch.

What is your favorite sport, and which team of that sport do you cheer for? >> Figure skating. I don’t have favourites anymore because I haven’t watched it in years.

Which would you rather have a kiss or a hug? Why? >> I have no preference.

If you could be a pair of jeans what style would you be?  Why? >> I...

You have multiple personalities, describe some of them. >> I don’t have multiple personalities. Personality itself is malleable and subject to the caprice of the animating force behind it.

What is the best thing you have done in your life? >> I... don’t know how to rank that. 

If you were blind for the rest of your life… what would you miss seeing the most? >> Everything. If I knew I would never see them again, I would of course miss even the most mundane of sights, and wish fervently that I hadn’t taken them for granted. Such is the mind.

What household chore do you hate the most? >> I don’t do bathrooms.

What is your most disappointing moment in life? >> I don’t know. 

When have you laughed the hardest? Cried? >> Ever? How am I supposed to know?!

If you had a “theme song” that played whenever you walk into a room full of people, what would it be? >> The Pacific Rim theme song.

What is the first thing you notice about the opposite sex? >> That depends on the individual in question.

What time period from the past would you most have liked to live in and why? >> I’m content with the time period I live in. 

What is the best reward anyone can give you? >> Appreciation, I suppose. 

If you had a band what would you name it? >> Marchand’s Lament. (It’s a Hellraiser reference.)

Do you like fruit? Vegetables? >> I love fruit and vegetables. 

What can someone do to encourage you? >> Be encouraging...? Any effort would go appreciated. 

If you could be one for just 24 hours, what cereal box cartoon character would you be? Why? >> Nope.

What was the best thing that happened to you this weekend? >> I saw Moana! 

What is your favorite animal? List three adjectives to explain your choice. >> Otters (cute, cute, and also cute), snakes (cute, cute, and also cute).

What is your favorite color? List three adjectives to explain your choice. >> I don’t have one.

It’s a very hot and muggy day. You desperately want something very cool and refreshing to quench your thirst and revitalize your body. What would you drink — either make your own or store-bought. >> Water. I can’t fathom why I would pick anything else...

You discover that the person you’re head-over-heels interested in loves a good homemade & handmade dessert. What will you concoct when you have this person over? >> Er. I... can’t make any desserts.

What would you leave in your will for the person you care about the most? >> ... Everything? Like, it’s not like I can take anything with me???

What do you consider to the most valuable thing you own: when you were a child/teenager/now? >> I didn’t have a concept of value as a child; I barely remember what I owned as a teenager; I don’t place much personal value on my belongings, but the most valuable thing I own in terms of monetary value is my laptop. 

What’s the kindest act you have ever seen done? >> I’m not sure.

If you could have any job in the world, which one would you want? >> I don’t know.

What are your best/worst subjects in school and what subjects would you want to learn now? >> I don’t recall having a best subject. I was kind of average to poor in all of them by the time I hit high school. 

What are you most talented at? >> Writing.

What is your worst nightmare today? >> I don’t have one that I can think of.

How often do you clean between your toes? >> When I shower.

What is your favorite way to waste time at work without getting caught? >> ---

If you could have had the starring role in one film already made, which movie would you pick? >> I am not an actor.

If you were to perform in the circus, what would you do? >> I wouldn’t? If you could eliminate one thing you do each day in the bathroom so that you never had to do it again, what would it be? >> Spending time in the bathroom at all. I’d love to never have to use one.

You were just given a yacht. What would you name it? >> I would name it “no thanks” and give it to someone who actually wants it.

If you could have been told one thing that you weren’t told when you were a teenager, what would you like to have heard? >> I’m not sure anything would have gotten through to me back then.

You’ve just been hired to a promotions position at Kellog Co. What would you put in a new breakfast cereal box as a gimmick? >> I don’t want to work at Kellogg.

Just like “Everybody Wang Chung tonight!”, what action would your name be if it were a verb? >> Repurposing a funny sound as an answer to random questions.

Name your favorite song. >> Death is the Road to Awe, Clint Mansell. If you were to get a tattoo, what would it say or what would the graphic be? >> The next tattoo I have planned is “scully, it’s me”.

If you could play any musical instrument, what would it be and why? If you already play an instrument(s), what do you play and why? >> Violin seems interesting. But see, the amount of dedication and practice one must devote to being proficient at an instrument just isn’t something I can imagine devoting.

When trick-or-treating as a kid, was there any kind of candy that you didn’t like to get? >> ---

Why do you live in the Washington DC area? >> I don’t.

What is your favorite memory of Christmases past? >> I don’t have enough past Christmases to have a favourite memory. 

What is the most outrageous thing you’ve done for God? >> I haven’t done anything I’d consider outrageous. 

If a movie was being made of your life and you could choose the actor/actress to play you, who would you choose and why? >> I don’t know. I can’t think of an actor that reminds me of me.

Paper or plastic? >> Depends on what for. What was the weirdest food you’ve ever eaten? >> I don’t know what makes a food “weird”, exactly.

What do you keep in the trunk of your car? >> ---

When you were in grade school, what did you want to be when you grew up? Why? >> A vet, an environmental crusader, a fashion designer... I don’t know why.

If you owned a CB radio what would your “handle” be? >> ---

If you were given 24 hrs to live, what would you do? >> I cannot fathom this.

If you were in the “Miss America” talent competition, what would your talent be? (Note: both guys & gals have to answer this question) >> I really wouldn’t ever want to be in a competition like this.

What do you think the most ultimate gift of the world is? >> ---

What is your earliest childhood memory? >> Sitting on the floor at the dog breeder’s house.

What was your favorite TV show when you were growing up? >> I didn’t have one. 

If you had one extra hour of free time a day, how would you use it? >> I don’t need an extra hour, I have plenty of them now.

What CD is in your CD player right now? >> ---

The great theologian Andy Warhol stated that everyone gets 15 minutes of fame.  What happened during your 15 minutes? >> Theologian... I don’t know what happens during mine. I have no interest in fame anyway.

Name the most famous person you’ve had a face to face encounter with. >> Julianne Moore. 

Name your favorite children’s story. >> The Snow Queen, The Phantom Tollbooth, who knows. 

If you could spend 15 minutes with any living person, who would it be and why? >> Er.

What person in the Bible do you most closely identify with? >> Elijah.

What article of clothing most closely describes your personality? >> Wizard robes! 

If you were to write a book what would it be about? >> It’d be semi-autobiographical, most likely.

How many rings before you answer the phone? >> It’s hard to judge this when your phone doesn’t ring, but plays a short bit of a song instead... 

What is the first thing you think of when you wake in the morning? >> It depends on the morning. 

If you won a million dollars, what would you do with it? >> I don’t know. Give the majority of it away. 

If you had to, what part of your body would you get pierced? >> My interest in piercings has largely passed.

Who was your favorite teacher and why? >> ---

What makes you feel the most secure? >> Meditating.

Who do you admire the most? >> I don’t think about it.

Have you ever had a reoccurring dream? What was it? >> Yes. I used to have dreams where I was driving very often.

What was your nickname growing up? >> I didn’t have one. 

Who was your hero when you were a child, and what did you do to be like them? >> ---

Peanut or plain? >> What...?

What is your favorite cartoon character & why? >> I don’t have one.

How did you learn to ride a bicycle? >> My father taught me.

Based on something you’ve already done, how might you make it into the Guinness Book of World Records? >> Number of bubbles blown with bubble gum.

What’s the closest you’ve come to becoming a pop star/winning an Oscar? >> I’m sure there’s a video of me during karaoke at Arlene’s Grocery somewhere.

When was the last time you did something for the first time? What was it? >> I had crab legs for the first time on New Year’s. 

What is your concept of a fruitful day? >> All of them.

What was your favorite thing to play with as a child? Why? >> I liked making paper dolls and clothing using catalogues, making up stories in my head, and playing with building sets. Why? Because that’s just what held my attention. It’s not complicated.  

If you could be any animal in the world for 24 hours, which animal would you be? Why? >> I don’t know. I don’t know enough about being anything other than human to imagine being anything other than human. 

Have you ever jumped out of a plane? >> No.

If you could rid the world of one thing, what would it be? >> I’m not interested.

What is your best personal characteristic? >> I don’t know.

What is your favorite quote? >> There are too many good quotes in the world for this.

If you could be invisible for a day, what would you do? >> What wouldn’t I do?!

What is your favorite weird food combination? >> I don’t think I have any.

If you had to be a flower, which one would you like to be and why? >> Being a flower seems like a strange thing to be.

If you were stranded on a desert island, what three books and three people would you take with you? >> The thing about being stranded is that you didn’t get a chance to pick what/who you wanted to be stranded with. Because if I did, I’m sure I’d choose to... not be stranded in the first place. :V

My biggest pet peeve is… >> Sounds. Little sounds that people make as they go about their day. And it annoys me that I am annoyed by these things, but I didn’t choose to be misophonic.

What is your favorite commercial? What commercial annoys you the most? >> There’s an Amazon Prime one that I love. I don’t see commercials often enough to be annoyed by them. 

What’s the most interesting “Ice Breaker” Question you have ever been asked? >> ---

If you could be an ice cream flavor, what would it be? Why? >> I don’t know how to think of myself as an ice cream flavour.

Name a turning point in your life that makes you smile/cry. >> Most of them? 

If there were a holiday in your honor what would it celebrate? >> Enjoying things for the sake of their (and your) existence!

What clubs were you a member of in High School? Are you still interested in any of the same things? >> All I remember is that every time I tried to join a club my father made me quit it because it wasn’t the kind of club he thought I should be in.

If you were to be on a reality TV show which one would you be on and why? >> I can’t imagine a reality TV show I would actually want to be on. Maybe an HGTV one or something.

If you could be anything in the world, what would you be and why? >> I already am all I want to be.

If someone rented a billboard for you, what would you put on it? >> Nope. Put that money somewhere useful.

If you had to enter a competition for the “Most Uselessly Unique Talent,” what would your talent be? >> o.0

If you were a Smurf, what would your name be? >> Autie Smurf. IDFK.

What is your worst personality characteristic? >> I don’t think of any of my characteristics in a purely negative light.

If you had to be a teacher of something, what would you teach? >> Writing. But not like... How To Write Good. I’d just help kids see it as fun, and reading, too. I’d be [almost] every English teacher’s nemesis.

How would you like to be remembered? >> Fondly. With laughter.

What is one thing that you constantly think about (other than material things)? >> God.

What do you like best about your hometown? >> I don’t consider any place my hometown.

Something interesting you might not know about me is… >> I co-facilitated a workshop at the Allied Media Conference in Detroit once. (That trip was also the first time I got to see Susannah in person. Eons ago, now~)

#surveysofsamedi