#last december i worked 22 hours one weekend

[blondiest]

pros of starting to do hands-on stuff again after months of desk work: hardware waits for no one -> many short-term deadlines and clear goals / requirements

cons of starting to do hands-on stuff again after months of desk work: hardware waits for no one -> weekend work T__T

#though to be fair. i was doing a shit-ton of weekend work at times with my desk work too #last december i worked 22 hours one weekend #only to have my deadline delayed until march #the epic highs and lows of learning the ropes for vacuum chambers. #blondiepost

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 24)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23

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Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 3,440

Summary: It's been 15 years since Horacio and Javier brought down Gacha in Tolú, and now they're back where their story began.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Brief allusions to period-typical prejudices/politics/legislation, very brief sexual references, smoking, swearing, all the fluff.

Notes: Well....I feel like I should post this with a fanfare or something (just imagine there's one playing), but oh boy, oh man, oh god. I did it. I flipping did it 😭 It's only taken 36 months, copious amounts of blood, sweat and tears, a deranged amount of research, the last shred of my sanity, and probably a fair amount of back/neck pain from sitting at my laptop for too long to get here. But hey, if I don't write a self-indulgent novel-length fix-it fic for a criminally underrated rarepair from a defunct TV show, WHO WILL, I ASK THEE? 😂

I can't fully explain the journey this fic has taken me and my writing on, or the deep love I have in my heart for this ship and the OHDH universe that has lived constantly in my head these last few years. Even when I'm not actively writing, so many things remind me of these two everywhere I go. They got me through the darkest days of the pandemic and somehow became my comfort ship, despite er, certain canon events we don't talk about in this house.

Anyway, I think you've all heard quite enough from me for the time being. So, I will just say thank you so, so, so much to anyone who has read, commented, kudosed, reblogged, liked, sent me messages, made me things, suggested music recs, generally been incredibly supportive and kind ❤️

And thank you to anyone who may stumble across this fic in future. Please never be afraid to leave a comment, even if you're reading several years down the line, I will always love to hear from people about this story.

There will also be some moodboards and playlists posted on my Tumblr at some point (and *maybe* some new - much shorter lol - fics eventually) once I've caught my breath back a bit.

For the final time (unless I randomly think of anything I've forgotten, which is more than likely lol), I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Chapter 24: Suerte (Epilogue)

Early evening rays painted the pastel horizon, their last act of the day transforming the shimmering ocean into an inky palate of fuchsia, violet and saffron, the golden sands at the shore still warm to the touch hours past dusk.

Come the weekend, Colombians would travel far and wide to descend on the many beaches, bars and restaurants that dotted the waterfront. Or if they were feeling adventurous, they would birdwatch, dive off the Islas de San Bernardo, or canoe amongst the mangroves.

But it was mid-week and mid-December – when most locals were at work and school or preparing for Christmas. So, for now, Horacio and Javier had the place to themselves.

There was the added bonus of the coastline turning into a dense forest of palm trees just along from their beach house, civilisation a mile or so away on either side of them, so even at peak times, they remained secluded. It had become a daily ritual to luxuriate in the peace and quiet; a pre-dinner swim with no trunks required followed by entwined limbs and sand in their hair as the sun went down.

Today was no exception, the gentle lapping of the waves around them and their shallow breaths the only sounds to be heard, the taste of salt and scent of sun lotion heavy in the air and on their skin as Horacio rocked into Javier, slow and deep, their chests and foreheads drawn together.

It was almost dark when Javier switched on the shower taps, cascading soothing jets over his head, neck and shoulders. As he soaked his hair, the lights from inside the beach house sprung to life, illuminating the outdoor bathroom with an ambient glow. It was a feature of the premium accommodation they had splashed out on, a rare treat away for a special occasion.

The outside space was a mix of wood, tiles and natural stone for the walls and floors, encased by tall plants and trees for extra privacy. A double shower stood on a platform at the end of a walkway, with a large hot tub branching off in the other direction. On their first night here, they had opted for the tub, surrounding it with candles as a belated ode to Día de las Velitas, lost in each other beneath the bubbles and the stars.

A sturdy embrace enveloped Javier from behind, a position they had found themselves in every morning by the shore before breakfast, looking out to a tranquil sea and a kaleidoscopic sky. The day jobs kept them both on their feet and in good shape, although there was more softness around their stomachs, and Javier was stockier than in his younger years. But his upper body was even broader with muscle now.

He was no gym fiend, but he had accompanied Horacio in some of his strengthening training, wanting to keep his stamina up as much as possible. Not just for the obvious but because he was sometimes required to carry the heavier supplies at work and didn’t want to be shown up in front of his largely youthful team.

It was a welcome development to Horacio, whatever the reason. Not that he ever had any complaints before, but watching Javier blossom as he aged was a wonder to behold. Not to mention, there was more of him to enjoy now.

As for Horacio, aside from the sloping curve of his midriff, he was sheer jaguar strength. Not only in the noticeable places, but his core muscles were in peak condition, the daily horse riding improving his posture and taking him back to the drill commands of his cadet years. His skin was more weathered, and his days of being meticulously cleanly shaven at all times were long gone. But Javier assured him – a lot – the ruggedness was part of the appeal.

Javier wasn’t one to talk either, stubble being a more regular feature alongside his moustache nowadays. But that was mainly due to lack of time in his busy schedule rather than preference, so it wasn’t unheard of for Horacio to do the honours for him. For some reason, Horacio delicately scraping a razor blade across his jaw from the comfort of his lap was far more appealing to Javier than doing it himself in front of the bathroom mirror.

Their hair contained more grey patches, especially around the temples, which was easier to hide when they grew it longer. That wasn’t practical during the sweltering heat of a Texan summer, so they kept it shorter in the hotter months. But in the winter, they could run their fingers through choppy waves and coils of curls to their hearts’ content. And luckily for them, their anniversary fell in December.

“Can you believe it’s been 15 years to the day?” Horacio asked, scattering kisses across Javier’s back.

“This doesn’t even feel like the same fucking place, to be honest.”

“Tell me about it.”

Horacio let out a huff as flashbacks of leading his men on a fleet of raiding crafts towards Gacha’s hideout collided with memories from merely days ago of him and Javier island hopping in a hire boat along the same waters. They had taken a platter of fresh seafood and fruit, exploring the remotest beaches and lagoons, where their only company was the local wildlife.

He could still remember the sensation of the blood at his temple as he lay disorientated on the sand in the aftermath of the explosion, a stark contrast to dozing together under the shade of a palm tree or reading aloud to each other the words of Lorca, Gaitán Durán, Arbeláez, Neruda, Paz, Castellanos and Mistral.

“Although, I did notice signs for the barracks towards Coveñas when we were driving here,” Horacio added with a nostalgic smirk.

“Oh yeah? You didn’t want another night there for old times’ sake?” Javier tilted his head until he found Horacio’s lips with his teeth.

Horacio hummed and put up no resistance, his wet hands sailing with ease down Javier’s body, finding purchase at his hip bones. “It was tempting. But I figured you’d want to make the most of this before Christmas.”

“Damn right.”

They took turns massaging shampoo into each other’s scalps, lathering the suds through thick spirals, tenderly pulling at strands until they purred, thoroughly indulging in the sensation whilst they had the chance. And then they did it all again, rinsing off the soap, floating away on the meditative pressure of the faucet and their fingers.

“We could always see if Alejandra has more spa freebies if it gets too much, though,” Javier suggested through the haze of steam now cocooning them.

“I like your thinking.”

It had been a while since they last used such tickets, their previous visits not dissimilar to how their current vacation was playing out. But despite the chaos that would no doubt ensue, they were looking forward to catching up with Horacio’s side of the family. Between expanding businesses in Texas and Manizales and the oldest half of the brood living and working elsewhere now with the twins staying at home studying, they didn’t get to meet up as much as they would have liked.

However, Elena visited Laredo several times, swapping life stories and recipes with Chucho and joining Horacio and Javier in San Antonio one spring for the Fiesta. Her last holiday outside of Colombia had been before Alejandra and Horacio were born, so she was determined to take advantage of having family abroad before age finally caught up with her. There had even been discussions of a trip to Madrid if Horacio and Javier could arrange cover at work the following year.

“Pops is flying out on the 20th, right?”

“Yes. Marco and Raúl are covering the ranch and animals until your father’s back on the 28th. And Jorge is covering the farm until we’re home from Miami in the New Year.”

No one was keen to leave Luna, Sol and Leo, who had long since retired from ranch duties, but between work and Christmas commitments, Connie taking a full-time job in a different hospital, now Olivia was a teenager going on 30, and the earlier-than-expected arrival of Felipe’s and Juana’s second child – Óscar, a little brother to Claudia – New Year was the only time everyone’s schedules matched up.

These days, Luna, whose main residence was the cottage now, Sol and Leo spent most of their time nestled on furniture or looking for treats in the kitchen whenever food was prepared. However, Luna would sometimes still ride in the back of Horacio’s truck and keep him company in the lower fields.

Kira and Fuego had become old pros, showing their younger siblings, Cielo and Tierra, the ropes, not as replacements to the trio but as a new team with their own quirks and personalities. Thankfully, the dogs and Coco had taken well to the pair of barn cats, Churro and Tamale, who patrolled the outbuildings and dealt with any rodent intruders.

Meanwhile, Chucho showed few signs of slowing down, except one summer when he twisted an ankle, and even that was hard work to get him to rest. But he had been happy to step back from some of his more physically demanding responsibilities in recent years, trusting that the ranch and farm were in capable hands. With their expansion plans a resounding success – plus some new ones up their sleeves – he had become more involved in the business side of the operation alongside Miguel.

And, of course, he was always happy to offer Horacio advice whenever needed. But for the most part, he left him to it since Félix’s retirement, preferring to arrange for the guesthouses to be refurbished or to deliver fresh batches of cooking to aid workers and exhausted arrivals alike on the frontline of the border.

“Bet Jorge was as thrilled about that arrangement as my team.”

“Well, we can always delegate to our deputies whenever necessary. One of the perks of being promoted.”

It had taken Horacio five years under Félix’s watchful eye – and decades of experience – to be granted the title of farm manager. Then, Félix had retired the previous year, satisfied he had picked the right man as his successor and Jorge as deputy.

Horacio still had plenty to learn and likely always would with the constant conveyor belt of change to farming methods and technology that landed on his desk each month. However, there was a sense of familiarity with certain parts of the job, like the meetings, the paperwork, and the budget constraints. Except, this time, it all came without the funerals, the upper echelons of the CNP breathing down his neck, and the crushing weight of a country’s future on his shoulders.

“And a holiday on the Caribbean coast was necessary, was it?” Now that Javier’s hair was free from sand and shampoo, he turned to face Horacio, their lips almost touching.

Horacio nodded sagely and closed the gap. “A critical business need.”

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

Once dried off, they lay in a hammock in matching white towel robes under the thatched porch of their beach house with a perfect view of the sea, moon and stars.

“So, you like it here?” Horacio asked after a comfortable silence.

“It’s beautiful. I’m glad we came back – to see it how it’s meant to be.”

“Me too. Although, I fear violence will always be a parasite latched onto Colombia. Just when you think it’s gone from one place, it rears its head again in another. Or even the same place twice if you’re unlucky.”

Horacio remembered the stories he had heard from Trujillo in the last couple of years – particularly about Operation Orion. Officially, the incursion on Comuna 13 had been a success by the Colombian military against the likes of FARC. Unofficially, however, there were rumours of a leaked CIA report, disappeared individuals, and collusion between an Army General and none other than Don Berna’s subordinate. It was hard to keep faith that Medellín would ever be free from its past when history had such a predictable habit of repeating itself.

“I know. It feels like one step forward and two steps back in the States, too. Terrorism might be the new bogeyman, but re-branding to ICE and throwing a shitload of money at the DHS hasn’t stopped the drugs and the people finding their way over the border.”

Javier had heard directly from Steve about the shift in his job role since 9/11. Overnight, Steve’s whole department was removed from their current caseloads and signed up for every counter-terrorism and narco-terrorism course under the sun. It was now customary for DEA agents to be redeployed to the FBI as intelligence analysts if resources required. And if their eyes and ears were pulled away from the drug traffickers, it didn’t take a genius to figure out the consequences.

Meanwhile, in Texas, if anything, people only took graver risks in the wake of a beefed-up Border Patrol. Javier had spent a lot of the past year helping to set up new aid teams in Arizona and New Mexico, the inhospitable conditions of the desert not enough of a deterrent to stop families trying their luck or handing over their life savings to coyotes who didn’t care whether they made it across alive.

“But small things can add up to change. Bit by bit,” Javier added. “And at least they can’t arrest us for fucking in our own home anymore.”

“True. Not that the law stopped us before...” Horacio nuzzled against Javier’s neck before making a move to get up.

They may have joked in the here and now, but it wasn’t a change they took for granted. In fact, Luz and Carla had even persuaded Javier to attend a protest or two and pay bond and legal fees for those who had been arrested. After all, he’d had plenty of experience exchanging money for people’s freedom.

When news of the Supreme Court decision spread, it was another weight off their backs and one less reason to look over their shoulders, a chance to permanently put to bed memories of being spied on during such unguarded sacred moments. It was the final line to be drawn under those dark years, not to erase them because that was impossible. But it was, at least, closure.

Their cigarette was almost done, and Horacio had left the opened pack on the kitchen counter. Once retrieved, he took out another and leaned into Javier across the hammock, pressing the tip of his unlit cigarette against the lit one until it sparked.

“But you’re right,” Horacio continued, holding Javier’s gaze between exhaling a plume of smoke. He balanced on the edge of the hammock, just enough to stop it tipping sideways. “Things can change. But only if we want them to.” He perched their new cigarette between his lips as he reached into the pocket of his robe.

Their first cigarette was little more than a stub, so Javier stooped down to the ashtray on the floor to extinguish it. Once he sat up again, a small cubed box was presented into his spare hand.

Javier stared at the black box and blew out remnants of smoke, eyeing Horacio with an unreadable expression, an unspoken question and answer lingering between them and the mist of tobacco.

He prised open the box to reveal a ring of plain silver. Or, so he thought at first glance. But as he raised it towards the moon, the iridescent light caught on the inner band to reveal an inscription.

Suerte que encontré a mi media naranja.

(Lucky that I found my soulmate.)

“Fuck, Horacio…” Javier’s voice was strained, and his words came out as little more than a whisper. He held the ring between his thumb and forefinger, letting the ethereal reflection from above capture each word.

Horacio watched every shift in Javier’s face with bated breath and a dry throat, his limbs lead and weightless all at once.

“The world’s changing around us,” Horacio said at last; swallowing his nerves and summoning his courage. “But no matter what the law or courts say in any state or country, this can mean whatever we want it to mean.”

Javier’s jaw worked back and forth, his teeth clamping down on the inside of his cheeks. But it was no use, and he let out a trembling scoff, an attempt to distract from the shining pupils he finally confronted Horacio with.

And then a broad smile crept across Javier’s features, his palm connecting with Horacio’s cheek before he plucked the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag. “Pass me my jeans.”

It took Horacio a moment to process Javier’s request. Of all the responses he had prepared for – the good and the bad – that hadn’t been on his list, funnily enough. With narrowed eyes and pursed lips, he complied and fetched the jeans that had been flung over a sun lounger when they stripped off to swim earlier. Apparently, regardless of how humid the climate in Tolú became, denim remained a reliable staple of Javier’s wardrobe.

“Check my left pocket.”

Whatever Javier was up to, Horacio was torn between intrigue and irritation at Javier’s temerity to issue orders despite leaving him hanging. But he did as he was told, and in an instant, everything made sense.

“I can always take it back if you’d prefer…”

But Horacio was already opening the near-identical box, and any teasing faded to white noise as he came face-to-face with the gold equivalent of his own proposal.

“Hold it up to the light.”

The night sky was brighter now, making it easier for the inscription to be revealed.

Mi amor, mi vida, mi hogar, mi vaquero. Siempre tuyo.

(My love, my life, my home, my cowboy. Yours always.)

It was Javier’s turn to observe, and it didn’t take long for Horacio to raise a brow in his direction, shooting him a look of feigned exasperation that only came with the territory of a relationship as enduring as theirs.

“What?” Javier said with disingenuous innocence and a vulpine smile.

It was a contagious kind of smile, one that reminded Horacio they were equals in this and that he shouldn’t have been surprised Javier had the same idea.

“I take it my mother showed you her ring?”

“On my first visit to Manizales. It was beautiful. And so’s this.”

“As is this.”

“I like to think I put my own spin on it.”

“You did.”

They sat side-by-side on the hammock, legs facing towards each other with the rings held in their outstretched hands.

Javier’s thumb slid across Horacio’s left palm, tracing patterns over new callouses born from hard labour rather than war. He circled his wrist, waiting for the familiar rhythm but finding a beat that was, unsurprisingly, drumming quicker than usual.

After subduing with his touch, Javier retrieved the gold band, gliding it carefully onto Horacio’s ring finger, easing it over the knuckle until it rested snugly at the base.

They sat transfixed, marvelling at the light dancing across it as Horacio’s thumb ran back and forth over the curved surface in fascination.

Horacio repeated the ritual of mapping Javier’s left hand, lacing their fingers together as a tangible reminder of their bond. Their devotion. Their vow. Their choice. Whether the law honoured it one day or not.

He picked up the silver to his gold, shimmying it along Javier’s ring finger and passing beyond the slight resistance at his knuckle. Not too much force, but firm enough for it to sink perfectly into place.

With palms connected and fingers interlocked, their foreheads met, chests rising and falling in tandem.

“Te amo tanto, Javier.”

“Yo también te amo. Tanto, Horacio. Tanto.” Javier whispered, over and over in Horacio’s ear like a prayer – their prayer – before brushing his lips above Horacio’s brow, the bridge of his nose, both cheeks and down to his mouth, creating their own sign of the cross with each kiss. A new beginning and a welcome home.

They untied their robes and collapsed onto the hammock in a tangle of limbs, silver and gold melding at their chests and hands; their past, present and future as inseparable as their hearts, bodies and souls.

With one smooth motion, Horacio pinned Javier’s arms down into the netting of the hammock, a dark, hungry gaze passing between them as cool metal fused with hot skin.

15 years and several lifetimes may have gone by. But when Horacio had the man he loved, the man who loved him, his media naranja, underneath him, only one word ran through his head. Mine.

Old habits die hard, he supposed.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

[vinetae]

Y/n as a young babysitter of jimin's son where jimin is recently divorced. Y/n is a tease yet acts oblivious and jimin is obsessed with tiddies just like the child but for different reasons. Just porn with a little bit of plot.

Okay soooo this went in a WHOLE different direction buuuuut still has some really breast obsessed and smutty scenes!!!! My darn brain went- BUt wait. what if!-

IT HAD-

A PLOT???!!

I hope you enjoy it <;33

P.S: The app thing isn't accurate but hey we ain't here for the plot, ight?

Those two sentences (Red and yellow) at the top are the two sides of my brain talking to each other.

______________________________________________________________

Pairings: Single Dad!Jimin x Babysitter!Reader

Genre: Single dad!AU, Babysitter!AU, Angst, Smut, !!Age gap!!

Word Count: ??

Summary: Uhhh you already knowwww

______________________________________________________________

"Are you sure this is the right place, Yoon-mi? You glance up towards the apartment numbers nailed to the door.

'225'

You had been needing some extra cash every since you'd been laid off by your boss because you refused to sleep with him. Mr. Choi had always been a sleezy perv, it just took one last final time for you to walk away from it all. Only then, had you realized that number one; You had no more income for money.

Number 2; Rent was due.

Your friend Youn-mi had told you about this amazing babysitting service for you adults trying to earn some big cash. At first you'd been a little heistant. You'd always been around kids your whole life, so although you were amazing with them and they loved you, you had hoped to get away from them in your adult years. 

Only that had not been the case. 

It only took a few clicks of a button to set up your profile. Then, you'd been getting gigs left and right. Mom of 4 wanting a babysitter so she could go on vacation? Pass. Four is too much. Grandpa and grandma wanting a night out? Sure. Shit, someone already signed it. You'd scrolled for hours trying to find the right job to set up and sign. Just as you were about to uninstall the app seeming as it was a waste of time, a notification popped up on the screen. You slide down to check out the details. 

Name: Park Jimin.

Child(ren): Park Ji-woo.

Date for day: December 13th.

You shrug, clicking on the messaging icon before another notification popped up. 

Message from: PJMin

Details

You click on the message.

From: PJMin

Hello, I've reccently seen your profile and I'm very impressed! Would you mind if I asked you a few more questions, though?

You smile just a bit at the situation. 

How ironic. 

To: PJMin

Hi, thank you for your consideration! Ask away. 

A few minutes later, your phone goes off. 

From: PJMin

No problem. Actually, you logged on just in time. I've been needing a sitter for this weekend, and I loved your profile. So it says that you're 22, right? 

You don't see how your age is that big of a deal, but you decide to just go along with it. Deciding to change the coversation a bit so it doesn't sound like a dating app instead. 

To: PJMin

Yes. My mother ran a daycare just a few blocks from my house, so it's probably safe to say that I grew up there. She shut down when I turned 17 and now I'm here. 

From: PJMin

Trying to live out your glory days, right? Haha

You chuckle at his response. Eh, not really.. But rent was more important than being right for now..

To: PJMin

Haha, I guess you could say that. So how old are your kids?

From: PJMin

Kid. I have a 5 year old son. Something came up at work this weekend and I'm in desperate need of a sitter. When I saw your profile, I knew you'd be a perfect match. So, the big question; 

You pause, tilting your head as you await his response. A few seconds go by until he continues.

From: PJMin

How well do you like Thomas The Train?

One thing led to another and now you're standing outside his apartment door. Yoon-mi being on the other side of the phone. 

"Of course it's the right one, girl! And I know you'll do great with this. You were practically made for kids!" You roll your eyes at her exatreation. The one thing you didn't want to associate yourself with anymore is now the center of your income.

"Alright, I'll talk to you later." She waves goodbye before your press the red button, closing the app as you ring the doorbell.

A few minutes go by until you can hear something on the other side. Soon, the door opens to reveal a tall figure. The white collar of his button-down shirt sticks straight up as a loose blue tie fits snug around the base of his neck. He's trying to invite you in while in the midst of looping his tie in place. 

"Ah! You must be Y/n. Sorry about the wait." You flash your best employee of the month smile while making your way inside of the doorframe. Your eyes scan the lavish room. Cream colored walls stand tall adorning the white marble-tiled flooring. The contrasting dark sofa and lounge chair tucked in the corner had looked like it cost more than your whole apartment. The woven light fixtures dangle from the sunken LED-striped ceiling. The tone set to a tan-ish hue. Your eyes reach back to the man as a young child wraps his whole body around the man's leg. 

"Ah, Ji-woo. I told you not to do that in front of people-" The man reaches down slinging the child up into his arms as the young boy's set into a fit of giggles. The smile mirroring his father's. How adorable. They looked like the perfect pair. 

"I'm sorry- He's not usually this clingy." He holds out his free hand to offer a shake. You nod, reaching to meet his. You study the child's and his features as he shifts the boy in his arms. "You're Mr. Park, I assume?" You ask, hoping that this is the right apartment still. He flashes you a kind smile.

"Yes, but you can just call me Jimin." You nod, watching as his chocolate eyes light up at the sight of his smiling child. He swings the child around before dipping him down, mimicking a dropping gesture, sending them both into a fit of giggles. His eyes land back to yours.

"Thank You for doing this on such a short notice. I know some sitters on that app have to have at least a week in advance." You smile. "No problem. I really had nothing to do anyways. My boss kinda laid me off this week.." 

Shit, why are you sharing such personal information already?!?! Stupid! You barely know him!! He probably thinks you're some stupid sappy story now- will he fire me?

His expression switches to a concered look. "I'm sorry.. But hey, if you do well I might hire you for full-time." He smiles before handing Ji-woo to you. He immidiently clings to you, before burying his face into the crease of your breasts. Mr. Park's quick to react, scolding his child.

"Hey! Ji-woo- What'd I tell you about doing that to girls??" He reaches forward to stop his child's naughty antics. You chuckle at his cute expression. 

Ji-woo's..

Not Mr. Park's. 

Ji-woo sits up clinging onto you ever more as to not be picked up by his father again. "No!" He wraps his chubby arms tightly around your neck before sticking his tongue out at his father.

"Ugh, I'm so sorry.." Jimin reaches behind him, scratching the nape of his neck awkwardly. He's always been obsessed with.. uh.." You look down the back up to see Jimin's face tint with a light pink hue.

"Breasts?" You finish his sentence. He chuckles, a nervous tone clear in his chest. "Like father like son I guess.." You hear him mumble the last part, which makes it your turn to turn cherry red. After a few minutes of Jimin explaining all of Ji-woo's favorite things and allergies, it had been time for him to leave.

You both are standing by the door. You with Ji-woo wrapped around your small figure as Jimin's sliding his jacket over his shoulders. He grabs the keys before giving Ji-woo a peck on his cheek.

"You're welcome to anything in the fridge. His bedtime's 8:00 o'clock so I'd prefer if he didn't watch any cartoons at least an hour and a half before bed." You nod as gives Ji-woo one last look before he sighs.

"It's my first time leaving him alone like this.." You flash him an assuring smile.

"Don't worry sir, he's in great hands, I promise." A smirk tugs his lips at that sentence. His eyes no longer having any hint of sadness or worry. Instead, it's swirling with something else..

"Sir?" His steps close distance between the two of you. Ji-woo had gotten down long ago to go and play with his toys in the corner. Your hand had been on the door's edge as his tone is hushed and whispered.

"We'll have to work on that." 

____________

It was now time for Ji-woo's dinner. You'd decided to go with some easy gimbap rolls cut into little bite-sized pieces as to not be a choking hazard. The television had been streaming in the background, as you placed the last requirement of items down onto the dinning room table.

"Ji-woo, time for dinner!" You call out, scooting your chair until you're snug tucked into the table. A few minutes go by as Ji-woo walks into the dinning room. You flash him a teasing smile.

"Did you wash your hands, mister?" He smiles before nodding his head sharply.

"Yes!" You reach out to feel his cold hands bringing them up to take a whiff. Once you smelled the scent of vanilla and lavander, you help him into his booster seat. The apartment is quiet, as you both are enjoying a nice dinner together.

Only now could you see the resembelance between his father and him. The high bridge nose, the dark chocolate eyes, only Jimin's hair had been lightened a bit to match his irises. 

_____

Once it had been bedtime, Ji-woo helped you pick up his toys in the living room and his room before you'd decided that he had earned a bit of screen time before it was time to sleep. He walks into the living room, dragging a thomas the choo-choo train blanket behind him. He hops onto the couch before scooting over to lay his head in your lap.

"I like you, Y/n." You smile, caressing the crown of his jet-black hair. Brushing the cutely cut bangs out of his eyes, his eyelids start to flutter from sleepiness.

"You do? Well I have a secret to tell you~" You lean down to whisper in his ear, as he shoots up with widened eyes.

"What secret??" He bounces on your lap with anticipation. You giggle, trying to settle him down.

"Shhh, it's a REALLY big secret. Do you think you can keep it?" He nods profusely before clasping his hands together, beginning to beg.

"Pleeeeaaaseee! I keep it! Tell me tell me tell me!!" 

"Okay okay-" You lower your tone and head, whispering into his ear.

"I like you too." He smiles before tackling you, wrapping his whole upper body around your neck. The force would've made you stumble backwards if you hadn't been leaned against the couch. Once the energy is quiet again, Ji-woo replies while rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"You're nicer than mommy.." Your eyebrows knit together in pain at his words. What had his mother done for him to say this?

He nuzzles his face into the crease of your chest before pulling his thumb into his mouth to suck on it. 

___

Once you'd settled Ji-woo into his racecar bed, you'd quietly made your way out of the room and began cleaning. First the kitchen, then the living room. Well, there hadn't been really anything to clean. This guy kept his place almost spotless.. 

You're almost finished with the last few dishes you'd been hand washing, until the beep of the front-door unlocking sounds through the complex. Jimin grudgingly walks into, sighing as he kicks his shoes to the side before removing his jacket, along with loosening his tie. He begins unbuttoning the clasps of his white collar shirt before noticing your presence.

"Oh shi- sorry.." He walks back over, fixing himself so that he's decent once more. You stay silent, resuming washing the dishes. He takes in a deep breath, settling down onto the chair that faces you. The tick of the clock echoes through the room, as you finish up the dishes. You turn back around before placing a small steaming cauldron in front of him. He looks up to meet your eyes, as you flash him a warm smile.

"And you cook too?" You chuckle, before joining him on the parallel barstool next to his.

"Just a little. I thought you'd might wanna eat something after work.." He smiles, blowing on the hoot spoonful before taking a bite.

His eyes light up at the delicious flavor.

"This tastes amazing. Thank You" He takes another bite, quietly letting a few moans slip out on the way.

"It's been so long since I've had real cooking.." He sighs, tilting the cauldron to the side to sip every last drop.

"Usually-" He places the bowl back down as he leans over the counter, setting it down into the sink.

"Usually I just order take-out either here or at the office." You smile, tilting your head to the side, admiring his exausted look. Barely noticeable eyebags slip droop under his eyes, as his cheeks turn rosy red from the spice of the soup. His straight, thick eyebrows curve into a mysterious shape. His eyes-

Staring straight into yours. 

You stutter, looking anywhere but him now.

"I-.. Sorry." Out of the corner of your eye, you can see a small smirk tugs his lips.

"Sorry for what?" He leans his face closer to yours, trying to get you to look at him again.

"Look at me, Y/n." Your eyes shift around the room. To the fridge that had been decorated with many arts and crafts from Ji-woo's early years. Over to the couch, onto the blank TV-

"Look. At me, Y/n." His finger lifts, tilting your chin until your eyes set dead on his. Your heart felt like it was going a million miles an hour. You knew he'd been very handsome from the beginning but this sight right now- His shirt halfway unbuttoned, giving you a sneak peak down the lines of his chest..

His tie falling loosely around the base of his neck.. His chocolate darkened irises burning into the center of yours.. His hair slicked back from sweat from a hard work day...

But you also noticed something else. 

On his left hand, a shiny silver band wrapped perfectly around his third finger. 

He knew where your mind had gone to. He wanted to make sure you knew what had happened. 

He sighs, leaning back to sit up. "I'm divorced." He reaches over the counter, grabbing a random beer from it's hiding corner. He cracks open the top, taking a sip from the tip.

"I'm sorry.." You can only respond with. He reaches over before sliding you a can yourself. You take the canister, not wanting to seem rude, but just toy with the cold can instead. He continues.

"Don't be. She was a horrible person from the start." He takes another sip before slamming the beer can down, sighing. He turns to look at you, shifting in his seat.

"She was never a good mother to Ji-woo anyways." He chuckles, a sad tone crossing his voice.

"You know she left Ji-woo here all by himself, just to go catch the new deals at Balenciaga? He was only six months old.." Your mouth drops open at his confession. He scoffs at your expression.

"Exactly. She was and still is a bitch. And that's not even the half of it.." Your eyebrows knit together in concern, as your hand unconsciously comes to rub at his left shoulder.

"I'm really sorry.." He sighs, leaning into your touch. Your fingers trail along the broadness of his shoulder before stopping at his bicep. The thick muscle protrudes through the thin material of his white button up that has the corner of your lips drooling.

His eyes, bare into yours as you watch a few tears slip from his ducts. The corner of his lip quivers at all that he'd been supressing for weeks on end. Ever since the divorce, he's never really had time to actually process the whole thing in the first place. He'd barely been able to cry himself to sleep at night becuase Ji-woo had wanted to sleep in his bed ever since the huge fight between him and Ji-soo. 

Your eyes wander over his towering frame. As your hand runs gently across his heated skin, each muscle in his body tense at your touch. With each passing second, his lips inch closer to the pad of yours.

His veiny hand comes to grace your cheek softly. His fiery touch torches each square inch of your skin. The burn taunts you. The plush of his bottom lip drags across your right cheek lightly, feeling the way his straight cut teeth bare a slight poke to your heated flesh. His free hand comes to rest on the round of your knee. The hot stream of breath brushes past your cheek, rolling onto the shell of your ear. 

"I.." You whine as the digits of his fingers dance up the plains of your thighs, resting on your cupped heat. Your breath hitches in pitch.

"B-Bad.." You whine, as he groans at the sound.

"Mmm, bad indeed." He smirks as butterfly-like kisses are pressed to the side of your cheek, trailing down your sharp jawline.

"N-No.. Mr. Park this-" He teases the hem of your jeans,  toying with the button that held the fabric together. His chest rumbles as a deep groan emits.

"Mmm, makes it sound like I'm your boss." He chuckles as his lips press deep kisses down the line of your throat.

"Ji-Ji-woo.." He grumbles at the name, hugging your body closer to his, as if you're sitting on his lap.

"Mmm, no baby. Jimin~"

You finally gather the strength to push him away, as your eyes flash towards Ji-woo standing in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Appa.." Jimin's neck whips to the side as he imidiently pulls away from you, walking over to pick up Ji-woo in his arms. His eyes switch from yours to his son's.

"Come on, buddy. Let's get you back to bed." You watch as Jimin walks back into his son's room to tuck him in for goodnight. 

A few minutes later, Jimin returns. He takes a glance around the room, noticing your lack of presence. A frown creeps his face. 

_

"And you did WHAT with him??" Youn-mi questions while slamming down her shot glass. You take in a breath, watching the bubbles in your coke slowly dissapear. "We didn't even do anything. It's just- well there was this thing.. and then he.." She drunkingly smiles, slurring her words around while taking back another swig. 

"Then you fucked, right?? oh PLEASE tell me you fucked!!" Your cheeks go red at her choice of words. You had reccived quite a few stares from bypassers from the level of her voice.

"No, we didn't." You swirl the end of your straw around your once chilled glass of soda. The bubbles dying down with their fizzling.

"We just- ugh, it's complicated!" She just laughs, leaning into your shoulder drunkenly.

"Girrrrl. Gimmie that phone!" She reaches into your bag, while you're laughing, trying to deflect her attacks.

"Ahah!" She smirks, easily typing in your passcode before swiping over the app she'd been more familiar with than you. She found his profile in seconds.

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT, GIRL!! I would PAY to suck his dick!" You instantly snatch your phone, snapping at her with reddened cheeks.

"Yah! Remind me to change my passcode. I don't need you sniffing through my phone so easily anyways." Her mouth falls open as she oogles at her imagination.

"Y/nnn if you don't take that gig, I will!" You sigh, sliding your phone back into your purse before taking another sip of your now room-temp drink.

"I don't knowww. I feel like it's going to be weird if I go again.. He probably won't even ask-" 

"There!" She chimes, before flashing you something she'd sent. You squint, reading the text out loud. 

To: PJMin

Heyyy so I'm like UBER sorry about earlier and shit but if you're still DTF LMK 😉😉😉

"Youn-mi!!!" You yell at her, as she quickly dodges your attacks. "I'm gonna KILL YOU!!" She laughs trying to fight you off.

"Y/n if you hadn't fucked with him I would kill YOU!" You roll your eyes, trying to take the device from her hands. A you're still fighting tooth and nail trying grab your phone back from her grip so you can delete that god-forsaken text, your phone pings mid-fight. Your eyes both widen in sync as she shields you from looking at the screen, reading it out loud. 

"Y/n? This doesn't seem like you. Are you DRUNK??? AHHAHA OMG HE'S WORRIED ABOUT YOU!!" Your eyes roll the back of your head. 

You wished the world would swallow you whole. 

"Youn-mi stop it! I'll loose my job because of you!!" Another ping. 

This time, she turns the phone to you. You can't help but look down, as your eyes blow wide at the content.  You read back of what Youn-mi had sent prior. 

From: PJMin

Y/n, I'm serious. Do you have anybody that can take you home?

To: PJMin

You're more than welcome to 😉 

From: PJMin

I'm putting Ji-woo to bed. Where are you?

Youn-mi giggles like a 13 year old girl talking about her middle school crush. She balls her hands up while swaying back and forth, singing an off-tune song. "Y/n's gettin rich dick, Y/n is get-ting rich dickk" You hit her shoulder as she laughs. "Ow!" 

_

You never should've gone out with Youn-mi tonight. You practically had to call Jimin to explain that it was just your friend teasing you, and that he didn't need to waste time or gas for her stupid antics. 

You were more than just embrassed to show your face today. Once he knew that you weren't drunk off your ass, he texted asking if you were free the next day. His mom had planned to watch Ji-woo while he went out to sign somethings, but she had forgotten about her last minute dentist appointment. And on such short notice, you were the only one he could think of that would feel safe with watching his son. 

Trust me, he was just as nervous. 

Flashes from a few nights ago keep filling his mind. He never should've crossed that line for numberous of reasons. Yet, 

He somehow still can't get you out of his mind. 

"And this one is what color, Ji Ji?" Jimin coos as he sits with his son cross in his lap, holding out some blocks in front of them both. He bounces Ji-woo on his leg gently, as he flashes his father a 1,000-watt smile.

"Blue!" Jimin grins, rubbing the crown of his head, kissing his chubby cheek.

"My smart little man." As Jimin picks up the next colored block, the doorbell rings.

"Ooo, looks like someone's here~"  He lifts Ji-woo up, carrying them both to the front door. His eyes land on your own. However his gaze is set on an entirely different category of you. 

I.e the black tights that hugged your legs like he wished would suffocate him. A huge puffed scarf coiled around your neck like how he would wrap his own hands around your neck, taking your breath away. literally. 

The white button-up blouse you'd decided to pair with your color pencil skirt left his mind racing to the most lewd and unspeakable things. Yet, he keeps his calm demeanor. That's the thing about working in corperate. 

Number one rule: Never let them know how you're really feeling. 

"Y/n!" Ji-woo yells as he tries to reach out to latch onto you. Jimin watches as your bright and beautiful smile matches his son's, as you too reach out to hold him in your arms. Jimin internally melts at the simple gesture.

"Ji-woo! How's it been hanging, man??" You twirl Ji-woo around the little platform made for outdoor shoes, as Jimin just stands back watching the cute interaction.

"I missed you, bud! We're gonna have soooo much fun, isn't that right?" Ji-woo giggles at your tone as he rests his head on your chest. Once the fun's calmed down, Jimin watches as you finally take notice of him.

"Uhm.. Hi."

He flashes you a professional smile, which is actually breaking his heart to only do. If it was up to him, he'd have you against the navy blue and charcoal walls of his apartment already. 

"You're a bit early." He comments, watching as you slide your shoes off to the side before closing the door behind you.

"Yeah. Sorry about that. Darn traffic was terrific." You giggle, before walking over to set Ji-woo down in his booster chair. Jimin joins the two of you, watching as you begin making his breakfast without missing a beat. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you're trying to make Ji-woo like you more than me" He watches as your nose scrunches with your laugh.

"Whaat? Noo." It had all been fun and games until Jimin caught a glimpse of your cleavage when you had bent over, looking for a bowl to start breakfast with. The back of his throat goes dry at the sight. Ji-woo's smile burns a thousand suns while looking at his dad until he noticed something. 

"Appa, phone." the young boy points to his father's.. lower area, as Jimin quickly clears his throat.

"Ah okaaay. Ji-woo, why don't you go clean up the blocks in your room?" He frowns, pouting at the mundane chore he obviously didn't want to do right now. "But I wanna stay with Y/n-ma." You chuckle at the name.

"What's with the Ma?" Ji-woo flashes you a grin.

"I like the word ma. It's pretty like Y/nnie." Jimin watches as the simple compliment makes your cheeks go more red than a cherry tomato.

"Go clean buddy. You'll spend all day with her later." Ji-woo huffs before sliding out of his chair, walking to his room. You glance up to Jimin through thick eyelashes, silently giggling to yourself at Ji-woo's previous comment.

"Didn't know people keep their phones in the front pocket, nowadays. What is it, like a trend? The back's not good enough anymore?" You tease, as you crack as egg into the skillet. He chuckles rising from his seat as he reaches from behind you to grab something off the counter. You could feel the prominent outline of what Ji-woo had pointed out earlier, rearing itself barely into your ass. 

"Dunno, but.." He leans forward, the breath that falls from his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

"I prefer the back."

You quickly turn around, seeing as you're now trapped between his arms. both of his muscular and veiny limbs trap you in an embrace you're not sure you absolutely wanna leave. His head dips forward, as his gaze silently commands you to keep your eyes on him. 

"So.." He starts. His breath dancing along the outer lines of your lips before dissipating into thin air. 

"What was up with last night?" He questions, watching as your eyes flick back and forth, not sure what to focus on.

"My friend took my phone."

"No passcode?"

"Passcode. But she knew it."

"Then might wanna change it." 

"uhuh.." Your eyes peek down to travel the gentle dips of his abdomine that the tease of his hem-ed shirt had been allowing you. You hear the same cocky laugh as you had a few nights before. 

"Like what you see, baby?" 

You couldn't help but moan at the simple pet name. Everything had just been too overwhelming for your sense to keep up. 

And what happens when a fortress's walls get torn down?

Infiltration begins.

It felt as if you were a hot air balloon. Each of his words only fueling the fire that makes the object rise higher and higher until it feels as if the person is on cloud 9. 

His hands curve around your waist to pull you closer. Your bodies flush against one anothers as breth pattern begin to mix to form one beautiful, and dangerous taste. 

"Why don't I just take you on this counter right here baby. Bend you over and fill you up until your every breath," His finger slips into the tight elastic of your waistband, finding your immidiently. You gasp at the sudden movement. 

"Every word," His lips suck on the skin that sits right behind your ear, licking and tugging at the lobe while his fingers dance between your slick folds. 

"Every sound you make belongs to me." His hand comes up to cup over your mouth, as if he knew exactly when you were going to, and just in the nick of time. He coos, thumbing over the plump of your lip, dipping the tip past your lips before forcing his thumb down on the flat of your tongue. You moan, as his smirk widens.

"How 'bout I just stay home today, hmm? My mom can come by and pick him up." Your eyes flutter then flick wide open. You twist your body, as your sudden movements stop his own.

"What'd you just say?" He tilts his head at your question. A smile still presses his lips.

"What?" 

"You told me that your mom had a dentist appointment." 

Shit.

He laughs it off, leaning back into your arms, trying to re-ingnite the once burning fire. Your hands are quick to pull them from inside your underwear, pushing him back a bit as he stumbles. 

"Y/n I-" 

Your eyes now burn with something other than the once intoxicating lust. 

"You lied to me." 

His eyes go wide. "No- No! I didn't I-" You walk forwards, backing him into the corner. 

"You said your mother had an appointment."

"She did but-"

"You said she couldn't watch Ji-woo, and that you had nobody else you trusted!" 

"Y/n please I-"

He glances down, seeing that he's trapped between you and the counter's edge. 

"Just calm down-" 

You scoff at the realization. "I'm outta here." You storm off to grab your bag as he follows quickly behind. "Y/n, wait!" You turn to face him, anger firing away.

"I ain't your teenage wet dream of fucking your babysitter, Jimin! I came here to watch kids and get paid. Not fuck their dads like some kind of whore!"

He reaches out, trying to calm your raging tone. 

"You're not a whore, Y/n and I've never thought of you as one! This is NOT how I planned this, alright? It just kinda- happened! and it's not like you didn't need the money" You groan at his sad attempts.

"Money?! I'm not some kinda charity case for you to guilt into sleeping with after you hand out a few -might I add- HARD EARNED dollars!" 

His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you away from the door. His eyes burning with the same intense look as yours, just on different sides of the spectrum. He speaks again. This time, his tone is quiet and calm. Much like one he'd used for when being disappointed in his child. 

Only in this case, he's disappointed in himself. 

"I fucked this up, I really did. I never meant for you to feel like some sort of sex worker when all you've done is care for Ji-woo with the upmost love and affection." You can see tears welling up in the ducts of his eyes. A few already on their way out of slipping. 

"And I'm so thankful for that.. I'm the asshole and I only thought with my dick and there's no presentation in the world that can show how sorry I am for that.." You stop resisting so much, finally allowing the steam to settle off from your skin as he continues.

"My ex-wife really fucked me up and I know that's no excuse but- I just.. She had always been attacking me. Whether physically or mentally, with each day she took a piece of me with her and crushed it right before my eyes. So yes, I act like a dickhead because that's how I gaurd myself. So fucked up, right? Protect myself with sex and being a dickwad. But that first night when you cooked dinner for me.. it brought out a side I tried for months to hide. You.."

He leans in closer, as his once tightened grip on your wrist comes to take your hand loveingly in his. "You made me feel something I hadn't felt in such a long time.." He brings his hands up, kissing one knuckle on bot.

h of your hands.

"I just- wanted to show you how much your small gestures mean to me.." You scoff softly at his words, not fully believing it.

"I only cooked for you once. Are you that much of a simp?" He smiles, pressing his forehead to yours as his tone lowers.

"Maybe seeing you actually being nice to my child had something to do with all of it too.." Your eyes rolls back playfully.

"Yeah? How so?" A smirk tugs the corner of his lip, as his cheek brushes against the side of yours. His hushed whisper and hot breaths rolling down the shell of your ear sent chills up your spine. 

"Would it be wrong of me to admit that after you leave I have to go relieve myself in the bathroom because of the things you wear..?" Your bodies flush together, slowly backing up into the wall next to his front door entrance. Your steps in sync as his hips press into yours, leaving a small gasp to roll from your lips before his own swallow it whole.

"Relieve? Such a gentleman-y word. Can't just say jerk like every other man?" His smirk beams into your own. The tension in the room slowly transforming into lust.

"We both know," He leans to brush the skin of your ear before lightly pulling the flesh through his teeth.

"I'm not like every other man." 

Your lips barely brush his own as the alarm set on his watch starts blaring. His eyes bare into yours, before backing away, silently cursing at the slip of time.

"Shit.." He looks up, seeing as Ji-woo had crossed the lving room to sit at the table, patiently waiting his food. Your expression quickly changes from sultry to sweet.

"Well, have a good day at work," You turn back around, sending him a cheeky grin before winking.

"Mr. Park." 

_

6:00PM. What was the hold up? Jimin promised that he'd be back no later than 4. His mom actually had stopped by earlier and picked Ji-woo up for an afternoon picnic, so now you're just stuck at his apartment, cleaning up the mess you and Ji-woo had made that morning.

On your knees, you reach over to grab, throwing the stuffed animals and dinosaurs into the plastic bucket before starting on another one. You sigh, sitting up on your knees, taking a break from the back-throwing task. Your eyes finally can take a look around his apartment details. The beautiful art pieces sat flat against the tall, extending walls of the living area. The black sectional rimmed with golden tabs adorned the Teak finished flooring. Everything about this place screamed money.

Something your apartment could ever even dream of. 

You stand to your feet, making your way around to take a few good looks. 

The hallway had a similar design in colors and themes, with navy blue and charcoal gray walls standing around 10 feet tall, outlining the beautiful home. You look to the mahogany side table, noticing a few pictures placed carefully on top. 

Him holding what you could only assume was Ji-woo. His 1,000-watt smile beamed so brightly that you could feel the warmth just from a few colors and shapes on a piece of paper. 

The next had been trimmed with a thin gold outline; Him hold his 3-year old son upside down while standing on a beautiful, white-sanded beach, The sun setting perfectly behind the horizon, bidding their wonderful trip a goodnight for now. 

You could feel the tears starting to well in your eyes. 

Your parents could never really afford fancy trips like that. You only really ever got to leave the city when your dad had to make distant deliveries. He owned a small corner shop for small pastries and sweets. When mom had found out about the loans he'd hidden from her all those years, they had been around something like 200,000 dollars in debt. The only reason you know that guestimate? You heard your mother constantly ridicule and fight over it many nights when they thought you had been sleeping. Soon, she had enough and your parents divorced. She's now married to a guy named Dan and lives in Michigan somewhere. 

Your tears finally slip when you see the last framed picture. 

His wedding day. 

She had looked beautiful. 

She looked perfect. 

How could you compare? 

He looked 100 times happier looking at her than he did you..

You're so stupid.

This was all so stupid. 

His eyes creased, disapearing completely as he had dipped her low. Her arms wrapped around his neck tightly. 

They looked like the perfect couple. 

The perfect family. 

You look closer, seeing fancy jewerly adorning her neck and hands. In her hair, a golden clip-pin with flower petals and diamonds. Her wrist had a gorgeous golden small chained accessory that looked like it costed more than your entire apartment including the furniture. Her skin was like a doll's. Not an imperfection in sight. The smile they both shared had looked wider than anything you've ever shown. 

Your heart breaks at another picture posted up on the gray wall. 

He's bent down in the tall, green grass; kissing her rounded belly. Her white dress flows perfectly in the wind, while the flower crown had lost just enough petals to the strong breeze to look like a spring paradise. 

Suddenly, you felt digusting. The mirror hanging right infront of you made it even harder to look at yourself. Your pinned up greasy hair had fallen back slightly, making you look 50 years older. Your reddened and scarred face had too many bumps to count at this point. Your forehead look oily and some of your teeth were crooked. You force a smile, only to feel twice as worse. Your eyes switch back and forth between his ex-wife and your reflection. 

You felt angry. 

Broken. 

Digusted.

How were people born with perfect looks?? How do they automatically have perfect, straight white teeth and an updo fit for a majesty herself!

You let the anger take over, lifting the picture frame up before watching it smash into a million pieces on the hardwood floor. Your breath is ragged, as you fall to the floor. 

You couldn't stand looking at her smug face anymore. Her perfect teeth and smooth, silky hair. Her beautiful smile that could make any man fall to his knees. She could have anyone under her control just by a simple grin. 

And you hated that. 

_

Jimin watches as the clock strikes 7PM. 

finally.

He makes quick haste in packing up his things before walking out of the office. 

..

The familiar chime of the front door sounds as he clicks it shut, sliding off the uncomfortableness of his loafers. He sets the briefcase on his side bench, walking in to see his living room spotless. He walks around, trying to find any sign that you had still been here. He stops as a small glass shard pierces the sole of his foot. He groans lifting his foot to remove the shard. "What the.." His seeing your body plopped on the floor with about a million similar shards surrounding your sulking figure. He reach down, lifting the broken picture to see what had gotten you so upset. 

His wedding pictures. 

"I'm sorry.." He hears you soft cries, immidiently putting the frame down to level himself with you. "Not a big fan of weddings, I assume?" He teases, trying to see your adorable smile which he loved so much.

To his disappointment, you only had just repeated 'sorry' about a million times. 

"I'll clean it up.." You reach for the shards before he grabs your wrists, in making sure you don't injure yourself. 

"What happened, Y/n?" He asks, tilting his head down to try to catch your attention. His thumb and index reach out to lift your chin, gently making your soaked and red eyes to meet his. "What happened, sweetheart?" 

"I broke something.." You act like a child getting scolded by her parents. Your speech being heavily impaired by all of your sudden emotions. You weren't one to cry or breakdown like this. Hell, when you lost your job about a month ago, you barely shed a tear. You just pushed through and buried your feelings. 

'I'll deal with it later' was your mantra. 

He chuckles, giving you a soft, caring look. "I see that." 

"So why'd you break it?" You sniff, trying to calm your staggered breaths. "B-Because.." The inside of his palm comes to caress the heated red flush of your cheek, thumbing over the space under your eyes to dry. "Why can't you just work it out with her..?" He's taken back by the sudden request. He chuckles, thinking it's some kind of slight joke but when he sees the burning tears soaking your cheeks, he knows you mean business. 

"Some people aren't supposed to be together, Y/n.." You scoff at his counter. 

"Divorce fucks people up, Jimin.."

He sighs, taking a seat in front of you, crossing his legs.

"I know."

You finally glance at him on your own terms.

"You don't fucking know. Have you even considered how Ji-woo feels about it!? He's gonna blame himself! Wonder if he's the reason his parents broke up. And in his teenage years, he's going to be so fucked up from going back and forth from place to place he's going to consider if it's really worth living in this shit hole!!"

You watch his eyes widen at your words.

"Y/n.." 

You quickly rise to your feet, sniffing before placing the broken picture back on his side table. You dry the last bit of tears with the sleeve of your fuzzy over-sweater. "I've gotta go." He stands, blocking your way.

"Y/n, she's an unstable narcissistic person who needed serious help. Ji-woo is better off not having any contact with her."

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from having another episode.

"How would you know? I saw your family. Perfect parents who own a huge, successful business with millions of dollars income. While some of us had work our asses off, scrape what we can off the bottom of other's shoes just to be able to fucking EAT." He folds his arms across his chest.

"Is this about my marriage or my job?" 

"ALL of IT! ALL OF YOU! You're rich and sucessful. Someone like you spit on people like me!" His eyes pierce yours with a harsh intensity.

"Make up your mind, Y/n. Wanna bitch about my job, my family's wealth, or my fucked up marriage? Really, Y/N. Take. Your. Fucking. Pick." Your breath hitches at his tone.  He scoffs at your silence.

"Oh now you wanna shut up? Come on, Y/n. You picked this battle, now you've gotta fight for stance. Don't got anything to say now, huh? You're such a fucking brat, you know?" He watches as your tiny adam's apple bobs up and down. The back of your throat dries from the tension. 

"Don't just stand there, Y/n. Wanna complain about how I was born into such a perfect, wealthy family? Oh, or do you wanna bitch on how you just hate how rich I am because I too worked my ass off to get where I am! Just because I didn't grow up with your kind of situation, doesn't mean I didn't have my own shit to deal with."

Your teeth grind against each other at his bitter words. You'd never seen this side of him before. Not even when talking about his so called bitch-of-a-wife. 

"You don't know SHIT." You curse, pushing him with all your might, that only barely makes him move. "You gonna keep being a brat or am I gunna have to fuck this attitude out of you?" Your body freezes. He smirks, stalking your figure, now having you backed into some doorway.

"Such a loud mouth for a tiny girl. Who gave you permission to curse like this, sweetie? I know I sure didn't." Your silence only fuels his ego.

"What? Can't handle a little fight back, baby? Think I'll just get on my knees and do as you say? like all those little pussies of men you've fucked before? You might think you're the shit, darling,"

The back of your legs touch a soft material. His breath rolls across your cheek, sliding to touch your outer ear.

"But we all know you just want a real man to fuck you like his little princess."

You moan out, as his arms come to snake around your waist, gripping you tight.

"Was this in your plan all along? Getting me all worked up then seducing me with your cute little subby face?" A deep chuckle echoes through the room. Lust prowls the atmosphere like a rabid animal. 

"Thinking that I'll just fall head over heels for your cute face, and you'll get what you want?"

You shake your head, not even realizing that it's what you wanted all along. He chuckles at your compliance. 

"See? Told you."

He leans forward, whispering along the shell of your ear.

"All big and strong until someone actually puts you in your place."

His harsh words elicit a pitchy whine from the back of your throat. You reach up, trying to tug at the material of his button up. He smirks, removing your hands from his clothing.

"Nu-uh. You wanna act like a brat? You get punished like one."

He sits on the egde of his bed, manspreading his thighs for your viewing glory. His eyes narrow at yours, silently commanding you.

"Down." You start to lower yourself to the floor before he stops you, tsking.

"On my lap." You swing your leg over his lap before he stops you once more.

"Jesus, baby. Should've known you weren't one to listen." He pulls your body down, bending you over his knee as his hand palms the flesh of your clothed ass. He chuckles, lifting your skirt up to reveal your thin, high waisted pantyhose.

"What's your safe word, love?" You moan at his question. 

Damn. 

Who knew consent was so hot??? (Hell yes it is children)

"mmm, what was your ex-wife's name again?" You tease.

He growls at the mention, giving your ass a good slap before countering.

"Smart off to me again and I'll make this ass redder than Rudolph's nose. Now,"

He runs the flat of his palms smoothly across your clothed skin before sliding the hem of your pantyhose down.

"What's your safe word, again?" You lift your head slightly to look at him, flashing a cheeky grin.

"Red, sir." He lightly applies a smack to your ass.

"Good girl." 

His eyes beat down onto the exposed flesh of your ass. The plump and softness of the skin is slightly reddened from the first spanking. Before you're about to smart off again, he continues.

"How should we do this, hmm? Maybe match your spankings to how many times you rolled your eyes at me?" You squeal at the sudden impact being harshly applied to your cheeks. He immediately soothes the sensitive skin afterwards, rubbing the round of his palm onto the reddened flesh.

"Or how many pieces you broke my wedding frame into?" You moan out, shaking your head, refusing either one of those options. He chuckles, not giving you an ultimatum.

"No? But you were so confident earlier though."

He leans down, tilting your chin to turn to meet his narrowed gaze.

"Now are you going to behave or am I going to have to paint your beautiful ass every shade of red?" You shake your head, not wanting anymore. You had some experience with spanking and shit but-

Holy fuck did his hands hurt..

"I'm gonna need more than a few tears, love." You whine, feeling the slick between your folds duplicate in dampness. 

"No, I'll be good- I swear!" You moan out, feeling the sweet relief of his palms rubbing over your reddened cheeks. He smirks, grabbing a fistful of the plump flesh before giving it a little jiggle. 

"That's more like it." He stands, pushing you back against the bed. His index comes up to tilt your head, forcing your eyes to meet his. "You just wanna please daddy, don't you?" Your pussy clenches at the given-name. Though you hadn't really likes it in the pornos you'd seen before, you quite liked the taste when it came from his mouth. 

"Say it." He commands, as you rise to your hands and knees. 

"I want your cum to fill me up so good" He quirks an eyebrow. 

"Who's cum?" You moan at his tone. His voice alone could make any women cum in just a matter of seconds but when it was paired with that, 

HOLY SHIT.

"Daddy's." He nods, bringing your hands to unbuckle the clasp of his belt. Your hands make quick work of the material, watching as it falls to the floor, circling his ankles. 

"And who's your daddy?" You giggle at the word. It felt so wrong on your tongue but on his..

"You, daddy." That makes his heart swell. His hands wrap the leather belt around his wrists. A dark expression swirls behind his usual chocolatey irises.

"Lay back for daddy." You obey, watching as he leans over, wrapping the leather belt around your wrists, pinning you to the headboard. He leans back on the balls of his knees, admiring your beautiful figure. 

"Mmm, this won't do." His fingers trail up the inner of your thighs before ripping a huge hole into the black tights. You gasp, watching as he slips your mini-skirt from your hips, throwing it somewhere across the room. 

"Can't believe you wore this here.." He scoffs, palms rubbing up the inner parts of your thighs before setting on your clad light pink panties. 

"So fucking cute." He groans, running his digits through the thin material, watching as the light pink fabric turns a light gray. 

"How fucking dirty of you, baby. Soiling your panties? Why? Because you were thinking of daddy fucking your tight little pussy?" You moan, nodding quickly at his words. A chuckle rolls past his lips. 

"I bindded you, not gagged you. Use your big girl words, baby." You whine, feeling the pads of his digits making straight lines connecting from your clit down to your soaking core.

"Yes! I dreamed of daddy's cock every night! Wanting it in me so bad, daddy..!" He raises an eyebrow, not truly believing your words.

"Mmmm, so you didn't even touch yourself? You stayed pure for me? Because if you touched yourself, I'm gonna have to punish you for that, darling." His fingers tilt your chin to meet his eyes.

"Tell me the truth, baby. Did you touch your pretty pussy? Make it all wet like how I'm doing right now? Did you ruin yourself without me?"

You shake your head, legs twitching from the lack of his touch. "No! I stayed pure for daddy." The tip of your toe teases his clad underwear, running the sole of your foot along the outline of his hardened dick. He retorts, moving away from your touch.

"Not into feet babe." He comments, as your face turns a beet red.

"Me neither.." You both laugh at the silly fail. He sighs, palm running over the rounds of your knees, watching the way your breasts bounce slightly when he rocks your body.

"What are you doing?" You look down, seeing his narrowed eyes staring at your erect buds.

"Your body is like fucking Picasso, sweetheart."

You laugh at his comment, watching as his lips come to hover over the exposed bud.

"I hope it's not like fucking Picasso.." He rolls his eyes at your stupid joke.

"Don't ruin this, Y/n." You smile, watching as he takes the bud between his lips, while his other free hand comes up to toy with the bouncy flesh of your over breast. Your head falls back against his silk pillows, back arching from the way his tongues swirls your nipple.

He releases with a pop, licking the pads of his lips before speaking.

"Can't fucking wait for these to be filled up with milk.." Your eyes widen at his words. "W-what?"

His eyes glance up to meet yours. A softer expression paints his face.

"For our babies. God, to see you so big and pregnant for me- carrying my child- fuck." You giggle at his antics, wrapping your exposed thighs around his hips, grinding against his clothed angry cock.

"You already have a kid, baby." You reply, kissing the side of his neck, as he traces patterns into the skin of your under bust.

"mmmm, I'm just horny.." He chuckles, licking a stripe up along the erects of your nipple. You moan at the sensation, as he smirks, chuckling.

"My baby likes it when I suck her pretty tits?" He teases it back and forth between the space of his top and bottom front teeth, watching your every expression with focus. The way your face contorted a certain way with each direction, tug, and lick.

"Jesus, baby. You're so sensitive. Like a virgin." He chuckles, as you stay silent.

He rises, giving you a questioning look. "Baby are you.."

You gently nod, flashing a small smile.

"My major never really let me date any guys so I-"

"You're a virgin?"

You're starting to think telling him was a mistake.

"Yeah but I like thi-"

"How the hell am I so lucky."

His words stop you mid-sentence.

"W-what?"

He crawls up the plains of your curved body, hands trailing up to caress your cheek.

"I'm. So. Fucking. Lucky."

He whispers, while trailing his butterfly kisses all the way down to your navel. He glances up through his thick eyelashes.

"Anything else I should know?" You think for a second, before responding.

"I once tried using a bubble wand as a dildo."

He bursts out at this. Sitting up, his eyes cresant from his fit of giggles.

"Are you being serious?" He questions, wiping a tear from his eyes before laying back down, taking one of your breasts in hand to play with it.

"What's so funny?" You chuckle, not being able to help joining in with him.

"It was just- so random." He leans up, gently pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, before giving you an eskemo kiss as well.

"That was adorable. You're adorable." He reaches up to untie your hands, making your pout a bit.

"But I liked those.." He smiles, pecking a small kiss to your cheek.

"We'll get into that later. For now, let's just focus on teaching you-" You cut him off.

"Please don't tell me you're about to teach me how to have sex." He chuckles, nodding.

"This is like the best thing a man can do." You smile, pecking his lips, pulling his chubby cheeks in along with the kiss.

You can feel his smile beam against the passionate kiss, as he pulls away. "Your kisses are so soft, baby.." You pout, folding your arms.

"No no! It's a cute thing. So many people just go in and basically bite each other's tongues off - That was an exaggeration, sweetheart. I'm suing you if you try to bite my tongue off." You giggle, nodding while leaning back against his bedframe.

"Your kisses are so soft. Just saying" He takes his chi n in his hand, pulling you to seer your lips together once more. It had quickly escalated when he added tongue. You always thought the idea was a little gross but actually feeling it..

Holy shitballs.

He feels you moan against the kiss, as his hands comes down to toy with the cup of your breast. His other hand trails down to slip into the elastic of your panties.

"Ah-" You moan out, feeling the tip of his finger run along the entrance of your sopping core. He smirks, pressing kisses to the side of your cheek, all the way down to your collarbone.

"Does it feel good?" He asks, lips still attacking your neck. You moan, feeling the tip of his middle finger poke at your entrance.

"U-huh.. Feels weirder when someone else does- Fuck!" You feel the tightness of his whole finger stretching you out. Your velvet walls slicking his extended digit, while his kisses distract your from what pain he fears you might experience.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay?" You nod, hips meeting to grind up into the palm of his hand. He chuckles while adding another finger. You grip onto his shoulders, nails gently cratering soft creasant moons into his shoulder blades.

"Shit baby... You're so fucking tight.." You whine, wanting to feel more.

"Mmmm, good." He smirks, tugging at the loose skin of your ear.

"Mmmm, feels good?"

"u-huh! Oh fuck-" He adds his third finger as your body completely just melts at the sensation. Your hips now moving to straddle his lap while he just sits back chuckling.

"What's so funny?" You ask, grinding down onto his palm.

"You're so eager, that's what's funny. You're acting like a teenage boy, babe." You roll your eyes, reaching down between the space of you, wrapping your hand around the length of his cock. He quickly shuts up, taking a sharp breath as your hand just sits around his cock.

"I was trying to go slow, Y/n." You playfully scoff, leaning down to spit on his hardened cock, as you move your hand up and down his length. You watch as his exposed stomach now tenses up at your motions, admiring the way his hairline had a beautiful little glisten on it from sweat.

"If I wanted slow, I would've told you." He chuckles, moving a strand of hair from your face while thrusting his three lodged digits up until your sopping core. Your hand making quick work on his cock makes this virginity-loss session more like two teens scared to fuck so they just jack each other off.

"Then what do you want?' You questions, groaning at the feeling of your hand around his cock. Your fingertip dances gently around his angry tip, watching as the precum spills from his slit.

"I want you to fuck me." He moan as your hand had done a certain motion, practically making him Jell-O in your hands. s

"But vi-virgi-" You cup your hand over his mouth, shushing him while repeating the same motion that made him react that way in the first place.

"Fine, don't fuck me. But don't call it 'love making' either. I've heard that one too many times from my parents, I don't need to hear it while we have sex." He nods, as he flips the two of you over. His body towering your own, watching the way your eyelashes flutter a bit in the cool apartment AC air.

He looks over toward you as he's reaching inside his black and gold rimmed nightstand, pulling a tiny square packet from it's hiding spot. You laugh slightly, as he settles back in between your thighs.

"Wouldn't Ji-woo find that?" You question as he rolls the tiny latex rubber over and down his cock.

"Of course not." He reaches back over, flashing a black key that had been placed in a specific spot under the nightstand.

"It's locked." He smiles, reaching down to line himself up with your entrance. You take in a sharp breath as the tip pokes your sopping core.

He glances up, pressing soft kisses all around your face before leaning up. "You might bleed a little.. And it'll be painful for sometime, but after that it gets better." You nod, watching as the gray swirls in his eyes let you know that he's just as nervous as you are. Your hand comes to rest upon his cheek, which seemed to calm both of your nerves.

"I'm ready."

He nods, clasping his hand in your while slowly sliding the tip in.

Okay..

Not so bad.

You smile, feeling the pain starting to form.

Okay it's a little un-

"Fuck!" You moan out, imminently clasping your legs together, trying to stop him. Thankfully he stops checking to see if you're okay.

"I-.. Just hurt.." He nods, flashing you a small smile before kissing the tip of your nose.

"You're doing so well, baby. Being so good for daddy." You moan at the words, barely being able to feel the way he'd slowly inched his way in, until you felt the way his tip kissed your cervix.

"How do you feel?" He glances up, checking your expression to see if it's anything discomforting.

"It.. so full.." He chuckles at your lack of a structured sentence.

"That good, huh?" You nod, not even caring what he's teasing you about this time. Your hips grind up into his, feeling the way the ribbed condom slid against your ways.

"Oh.. my- fuuuck" His moans soon join yours as the speed of his thrusts pick up in momentum. His arms had braced themselves on each side of your body. A beautiful missionary pose if you do say so yourself.

"Oh shit baby- So fucking tight for me. fuuuckk" He groans, lifting your legs to wrap tightly around his waist, while your arms had snaked their way his veiny neck. Your head falls back, mouth gaped a O-shape.

"Oh- Ji- oh my god-" His grunts leave a pool of slick running down your thighs, which made this moment all the much hotter. Any pain that you had experienced had been long replaced with an ecstacy you wish you could feel all the time.

Your nails dig into the skin of his back, once innocent and cute creseant moon shapes now turned cherry red, with a few having drawn blood.

"Oh my god!" You hands come to stable by your hips, while leaning into your already fucked up position, thrusts hitting -somehow- even deeper before.

"Oh fu- daddy!" Your screams and skin slapping made fifty-shades of gray look like a disney movie. Along with Jimin's dirty but sweet talk, you had felt like you were on cloud nine.

"Oh fucking- shiiiittt baby. Gonna fill you up so nice. Fuuuck baby, look at your pussy taking me so well."

You moan, trying to switch positions. He pauses. "Something wrong?"

You nod. "I wanna be ontop." His eyes widen. "But- isn't that too kinky for right now?"

You pout. "Jimin so help me if you keep condemning me on how I can and can't fuck, I will leave here right now and you will have the WORSE case of blue balls in your life. " He immdiently flips around to that, laying on his back. You one leg over, straddling him lap. You reach down, guiding his cock around until your find your entrance.

"Oh- fuck that's not!- oh.." He groans, feeling an even tighter sensation from your back.

"Oh shit.." You laugh, taking it out before trying to line it up with your entrance. His wrist catches you.

"Baby if you want the worse UTI possible, I'd say go for it but let's just-" he reaches down, pulling the condom off. As he's reaching into his bedside table, you slam down onto his lap, cock being engulfed by your soaked pussy. He groans out, hands immediately coming to steady your hips.

"Jesus fu- baby you're gonna kill me.."

You smirk, guiding your hips along the trails of his cock, bouncing repeatedly. Going from fast paced to a slow, rhythmic pattern. His hands comes up to cup the rounds of your breasts, nipples being tugged at by his thumbs and index fingers. You glance down, chuckling at his position.

"You've got a breast kink.."

He smirk. "No, I've got a 'I wanna fuck a baby in you, please be the mother of my child' kink." That both sends you into a fit of tiny laughters, but the soon get replaced by moans and whimpers.

Mostly from your side.

"Baby I'm really gonna- no no no no shit- Baby I'm gonna cum!" You moan, hands reaching down to draw tiny circles into his hip bones and v-line as your thighs and pussy clench around his cock.

"Mmmm, can't tease me with a baby and break your promise, daddy." He groans, fighting with everything he's got as to not blow his load into your sweet pussy right now.

"Baby please- We can talk about that lat- fuck it!"

He flips you around in a matter of seconds. Your roots tightly coiled in his palm, while the other has reached forwards to grp one of your nipples.

"You want a baby so fucking badly? We're doing this my way." He leans down, thrusting his hips upwards into your pussy, watching as your sopping core engulfs his dick. He chuckles.

"My sperm, my choice of position." Your roll your eyes as his tugs on the roots of your hair, pulling you back to face him.

"Keep rolling your eyes and next time Imma shove that butt plug up your smart ass." You smirk, wiggling your hips as his thrusts start to become sloppy.

"You love my smart ass, daddy." He grunts, feeling the way his balls push up against your folds, slicking them even more.

"Fuck yeah I do. But," He tweaks your nipple in one hand, as you mewl out. "I love your fucking titties better."

You groan, burying your face into his satin pillows.

"Fuc-Fuck I'm coming!" He reaches forward, taking a hold on your clit likes it's dear life. The harsh circular motions send you into a fit of moans.

Psh, as if you weren't already in that.

"F-fuck- coming!" He moans out as you feel the hot rush of warm liquid shoot through your pussy. After a few moments he pulls out, admiring the Da Vinci like work he's done to both your ass and cunt.

He flips you over, making you lay upside down as your legs rest against the wall.

"What's this for?"

He smirks. "You said you wanted a baby, "

His lips capture yours in a spiderman like kiss.

"I'm gonna give you a baby."

He sits up, smiling like a little kid.

""Also I'm gonna call your pussy pac-man. Or.. pac-woman?" He laughs while cleaning up the sheets.

"Pac-pussy! Has a nice ring to it, don't chya think?"

______________________________________________________________ You know that I was thinking that this fic isn't long enough so I'm like- Lemme check the word count.

THIS MOTHER FUCKER WROTE 11,000 WORDS, 43 PAGES WORTH AND SAID IT'S 'NOT LONG ENOUGH'

omg I need sleep-

#bts x reader #jimin x reader #bts jimin fanfics #bts jimin #jjm #bts fanfic #bts fics #btsff #jimin #bts oneshots

[pvrply-bruises]

2024 Vision and Goals 🍀🌱

After a few harsh and challenging months, I have come back with plenty of motivation to lose weight and keep it down.

To congratulate myself, I'd like to point out I moved out of my parents' home, I quit a toxic job and landed a new, slightly better paid job, I am trying really hard to make my current relationship work and I have worked on changing my own damaging behaviors, I had a tough financial month and I have reset my personal budget as well as my spending habits and strategies.

Without further ado, here are the plans/stats/ideas to successfully lose some weight.

Note 1: I do not know my actual SW. Last time I weighed in, I was at 59 kg, but I definitely gained these past few months.

SW: *educated guess* 64 kg.

GW: 54 kg.

UGW: 50 kg *just enough to donate blood*.

Due date: End of 2024 (12/31/24).

Checkpoints:

05/12/24 (partner's birthday celebration)

05/26/24 (may's pay date)

06/23/24 (last week of final term at work)

07/07/24 (few days after dad's birthday)

07/28/24 (end of work break)

08/18/24 (long weekend)

09/22/24 (love and friendship day)

10/06/24 (after birthday check)

10/27/24 (before Halloween, yay!)

11/17/24 (nothing special)

12/08/24 (after candle night)

12/22/24 (almost Christmas!)

12/31/24 (end of year, NYE)

Strategies: under 4 axes of action (nutrition, ⭐vation, movement, finances).

🍓Nutrition: as a grown up, I need to function. In order to function while doing this, I need to ingest proper nutrients to keep my body as balanced as possible.

Eat meals (lunch or dinner) with the following arrangements: 1/2 a plate is salad, 1/4 is protein and 1/4 is carbs.

I will allow dessert, if available, 2X/week (weekday and weekend).

No juice, only water.

Snacks will consist of fruits, greek yogurt, fruit purée, a few dried nuts, low cal gelatin, ripened cheese, ham, eggs, etc.

No added sugar.

No alcohol unless beer (with partner) or wine. For special occasions only.

No vaping/smoking *this will be a tough one.

No chips, cakes, chocolate, fried food, candy or ultra processed snacks.

Counting approximate calories and have a limit of 1,300 cals daily. High restriction is easier to maintain long term. Also, I don't actually know the calories in my lunch because I don't cook it.

Use MFP for the previous point.

⭐vation: as an old timer in EDblr, I objectively know that food and exercise are the way, but my sick brain insists on this method. And the method works (at least for a while).

Fasting, daily, for 18 hours at least. From 6:30 PM until 12:30 PM.

OMAD 2X/week. Preferably lunch, but dinner if required.

Always skip breakfast. It's the easier to skip due to my routine.

Fasting less during the weekend if a social function requires it.

If working out harder than usual, EAT to avoid passing out.

Drink green tea, black tea, unsweetened herbal tea, coffee (stick to 2–3 cups daily). Drink as many beverages as you'd like, without sugar, of course.

Brush teeth 4 times a day: before work, during break, after lunch and before sleeping.

🤸‍♀️Movement: my 25-year-old body feels as if I am 47. I need further movement, not only to lose weight, but to feel ALIVE.

Walk 8k steps daily. How? Take the bus, walk a lot during my day, get off at a further bus stop and walk home; after work, go out and walk around the neighborhood to complete steps.

On July, either join the gym or take up dancing lessons. If schedule allows, continue this from July until December and then into 2025.

Sunday every 2 weeks, go to a hike at Monserrate. Time going up and down, track improvement. Do it alone, with my partner, with friends, raining, sunny, windy. Starting on 05/04/24.

If working out harder than usual, EAT to avoid passing out.

Buy a yoga mat. Use it to stretch.

Note 2: a side goal for this year is to reach my front and pancake splits.

💡Finances: as a human with dreams, hopes and aspirations, I need money. I make enough to live well, but hardly enough to save for later in life. Food expenditure needs a cut for me to grow my wealth.

After calculations, I spend about 20% of my monthly pay in groceries. However, this is if I EAT A LOT for dinner and buy inefficient food (nutrition wise). However, implementing all previous measurements, means I no longer need to spend that much on food. I will stick to a budget of 5.65% of my monthly pay.

Buy consciously, buy nutritious food. Stick to the general idea of: red meat, chicken breast/thighs, yucca arepas, cheese, fruit purée, chicken ham, tomatoes, green fruit (apple or pear), popcorn, rice, instant noodles, cucumber, red bell pepper, greek yogurt, blueberries, wok veggies.

Do NOT order take out, ever. Even worse if you have groceries at home.

Uninstall all delivery apps.

Only eat out twice a month IF BUDGET allows. If not, do NOT hesitate to tell people, 'it's not within my budget'.

Do NOT spend money at work. You have 'free lunch', you have a small allowance, and all they sell is crappy chips. Do NOT waste your money on vending machines or greasy cafeteria food *this is an easier one.

Do NOT buy clothes until you are able to maintain a certain low weight.

Rewards system:

Besides dropping pounds, it's encouraging to have a few prizes waiting to be claimed if the effort makes a noticeable mark in my body and mind.

63 kg: a pat on the back.

62 kg: finding the time and painting a small watercolor piece.

61 kg: going to a museum for free.

60 kg: going to a planetarium light show.

59 kg: do a fun, colorful make up for a Sunday photoshoot.

58 kg: measure my waist, legs, hips and arms.

57 kg: go to the botanic garden.

56 kg: go to an amusement park to have fun.

55 kg: go to a curly hair care salon to find out how to properly care for my locks.

54 kg: get another ear-piercing.

53 kg: buy a cheap but cute ring.

52 kg: going to the cinemateca for a foreign film showing.

51 kg: donate blood.

50 kg: buy enough clothes and shoes, for work and personal activities.

Tracking: I will post the following stats daily or as needed.

Daily cals consumed.

Steps walked.

Money spent on food.

Lts of water consumed.

Did I smoke/vape?

Did I drink?

Cups of coffee.

Hours fasted.

Weigh in.

I love myself. I loathe myself. I do this to find balance between my mind and my external world. I believe if I cultivate this type of discipline, I can conquer all other goals I have set for myself. I do this for me and me ONLY.

Love, me.

#st4rv1ng #tw ed sheeran #ed relapse #light as a feather #tw ana rant #ana buddie #pro for me not for thee #tw ana diary

[megan-loves-surveys]

Let's go.

1 - Who was the last person to give you a gift? What was the reason for it? Christmas lol.

2 - Are you a good cook? If so, who taught you? What’s your favourite thing to cook? No I suck. My boyfriend has been trying to teach me but I'm awful.

3 - When was the last time something in your house broke? Did you manage to fix it or did you need to buy a replacement? Good question, I'm not sure.

4 - Is any part of your body hurting right now? What caused that pain? Not right now.

5 - Do you have anything exciting planned for the upcoming weekend? I'm going to a wrestling show, that'll be fun.

6 - If you could spend two weeks in any city in the world, which city would you pick and why? London or NYC, cos so much to do, I wouldn't get bored.

7 - When was the last time you tripped or fell in public? if there was nobody around to see you, did you still feel embarrassed? Ages ago, I don't think anyone saw me.

8 - The last time you made a sandwich, what did you put in there? Peanut butter.

9 - How many hours sleep did you get last night? Was that enough for you or could you have slept for longer? 6 hours and 40 mins, I could have had a bit longer but eh.

10 - What’s your favourite time of day? What’s your favourite thing to do at that time? Evenings, that's my free time! I listen to music, watch wrestling, play video games, talk on Discord etc.

11 - Where did you go the last time you left your house? I went to work, then after work I went out for a meal with my Mum.

12 - Are you tired right now? Will you be going to bed anytime soon? I'm alright, and no it's 12:26pm xD

13 - How many times a week do you get takeaway coffee, if you get it at all? I mostly stay away from coffee cos caffeine does a number on me.

14 - What radio station do you listen to the most? None.

15 - If you eat steak, how do you like it cooked? What sauces or sides do you like to go with it? I don't.

16 - Do you prefer sweet or savoury pancakes? What toppings do you have on them? Mixture - I get them with bacon and maple syrup.

17 - Are you someone who cracks their joints a lot? Which one(s) do you tend to crack and click the most? Yep, especially my knees and my fingers xD

18 - Have you ever taken medication or tablets to help you sleep? is this something you do on a regular basis? No.

19 - For you, what’s the worst thing about getting up in the morning? What about the worst thing about going to bed tonight? Actually getting up, after I do, I'm fine. And going to bed is annoying cos I have to haul all the plushies off it xD

20 - Do you prefer regular or diet soft drinks? Definitely diet, regular is usually too sweet.

21 - What do you tend to wear if you’re just hanging about the house for the day? Depends on the time of year - in summer, it'll be a jumpsuit, summer dress or tank top & shorts. In winter, it'll be comfy yoga pants and a hoodie with ugg boots.

22 - When was the last time you dyed your hair? Did you do it yourself or get it done at a hairdresser? December, I went to the salon.

23 - Does having to wear a mask stop you doing things? Is this because you struggle wearing one or you just don’t like it? We thankfully don't have to wear them anymore, but we did have to wear them for months in 2021 and 2022 - inside any buildings and on public transport.

24 - Have you ever witnessed a car accident? Or have you perhaps been involved in one yourself? Were you at fault? Does getting hit by a car count? LOL.

25 - When was the last time you baked a cake? What cake was it? I don't bake.

26 - Do you like wearing bows or accessories in your hair? Nah.

27 - How many books do you read in a year? Do you enjoy reading or do you have to really force yourself to sit down and read? Not as many as I should. I've read two this year so far lol.

28 - If you have pets, where did they come from? A breeder, a rescue or maybe a friend who bred their pet? No pets.

29 - Do you make your bed every morning when you get up? Yep.

30 - When was the last time you got takeaway food? Was it good? I had KFC on Friday if that counts.

1 - Who was the last person to knock on your door? Were they there to see you? My boyfriend, he usually texts me to let him into our complex but the gate was open last time and he was able to come in on his own.

2 - Have you left the house yet today? If not, do you have plans to leave the house later on? Not yet, and yes, I'm heading out to a concert later this afternoon around 3:30 or so.

3 - What’s your favourite brand of chocolate? What type of chocolate bar from that brand is your favourite? Any Belgian chocolate, Whittakers (NZ brand) and Cadbury's.

4 - Have you ever met someone in person who you first met on the internet? Do you have plans to do that anytime soon? Oh yeah, quite a few of my friends were online friends first, then later on we met in real life.

5 - What was the last thing you used a blender for? We don't own a blender.

6 - Have you ever got into an argument with a stranger on social media? Do you remember what it was about? Oh, loads of times. They're usually about wrestling xD

7 - When was the last time you cracked your joints? Is that something you do often? I do that way too much.

8 - What time is it right now? If you weren’t doing a survey, what else would you be doing right now? 1:25pm. I'd either be at work, at the gym or watching wrestling or playing a video game haha.

9 - If you had ten minutes to run around an empty supermarket and fill your trolley for free, what’s the first aisle you’d go for? Chips! Haha.

10 - Aside from Tumblr, what websites do you visit the most and why? last.fm, Facebook, Reddit, YouTube. All the usuals.

11 - Has COVID had any impact on your Christmas plans this year? What’s going to change or be different to normal? No, Covid isn't really a problem anymore. It's still around of course, but it doesn't affect stuff as much now.

12 - What’s your favourite flavour of cake? Are you any good at making that kind of cake? Any! And I suck at baking.

13 - Do you prefer sweet or sour candy? Sour.

14 - What colour is your favourite fruit? Is this a fruit you eat often? Yellow, cos it's bananas haha. And I don't eat them that much really.

15 - Is your favourite restaurant an independent place or a chain? What is it that you love about it so much? Porterhouse Grill, it's independent as far as I know. It's expensive but the food is so good and the staff are so friendly.

16 - Are you genuinely a fan of Starbucks or do you think it’s all hype? I love it! I go at least once a week.

17 - Do you own a Christmas jumper? What design/pattern does it have on it? I do, I have two, they're both wrestling ones - one is Seth Rollins, the other is Roman Reigns. I can't wear them at Christmas though cos it's too hot, so I wear them in July lol.

18 - What’s your favourite fit/style of jeans? Skinny jeans.

19 - What was the last non-essential item you spent money on? I dropped a bunch of money on backing the Broken Sword kickstarter haha.

20 - Are you currently under any COVID-related restrictions where you live? Are people generally following the rules? No, they lifted those in 2022.

21 - What did you last leave the room you’re in to do? To go downstairs for lunch.

22 - Have you ever read any self-help books? Did you find them useful? No.

23 - What’s your favourite programme on the Food Network (if you watch it)? If you don’t get that channel, what’s your favourite food/cookery show in general? I don't like cooking shows.

24 - Do you still watch cartoons? Yep sometimes.

25 - Who do you know with the most number of siblings? Would you ever want to live in a huge family? Ngawari, my BFF. She has 9 brothers and sisters! And no.

26 - Are you a fan of garlic bread? Yes! Yummy.

27 - Do you own any personalized clothing? What’s the reason for getting it? No.

28 - Is anyone else in the same room as you right now? What is that person up to? No, my Mum is downstairs.

29 - What colours are you wearing right now? Does your wardrobe contain a lot of those colours? Only black haha. And yes.

30 - Do you like adding condiments to your food? If so, what are some of your favourites? I am a condiment addict, I use so many different ones. But I def use tomato sauce/ketchup the most, with mayo in second.

This past year…

who were your favorite singers, musicians, or bands?

My most played artist on Spotify was Taylor Swift, lol. But on last.fm my #1 was Ayumi Hamasaki, like she is most years.

what were some of your favorite foods?

Mac & cheese, always.

what was your favorite dessert?

Iceblocks or ice cream.

what was the best thing that happened to you?

I got permanent work finally! It started as a temp job, but my boss liked me so much he offered me the permanent position. Yay me!

what was the worst thing that happened to you?

Dunno, 2023 was pretty good, all things considered.

how have you grown as a person?

Sure.

what have you learned?

That a temp job can turn into a permanent one if you work hard enough and impress.

how old did you turn?

36.

what did you do for your birthday?

I had dinner with my BFF on my actual birthday, then the next day I went to lunch with my Mum and then went out for drinks with my boyfriend.

what did you accomplish?

Got a permanent job, went to the gym regularly for the whole year etc.

where did you live?

I've lived in the same place since 2016 lol.

who was your best friend?

Ngawari, we reconnected in a big way last year - she was inspired to join the gym by me and now we go together every week.

This past year, have you….

made a new friend?

Yes.

lost a friend?

Yes :( My friend Zoe passed from cancer.

made a new best friend?

No.

lost someone close to you?

Yes.

attended a funeral?

No, cos Zoe didn't have a funeral, they just had a get together and I couldn't go cos we lived in different cities.

attended a wedding?

No.

gave birth to a child? 🤰

No.

“came out of the closet”?

No.

traveled?

God I wish.

felt depressed? 😔

No.

felt suicidal? 😔

No.

felt happy? 😃

Yes!

felt at peace? 😊

Probably?

felt overjoyed? 💃

Sure.

felt blessed? 😇

Dunno.

felt amazed? 🤩

Sure.

fallen in love? 😍

I was already in love <3

had your heart broken? 💔

No..

got a new car? 🚗

No..

graduated? 👩‍🎓

No.

experienced something miraculous? ✨

Nah.

had a better year than last year?

2023 was way better than 2022 for sure.

had a worse year than last year?

No.

been to see the doctor? 👨‍⚕️

I didn't, lol.

been to the hospital? 🏥

No.

had a severe allergic reaction? 🤧

No.

had COVID? 🦠

I think I did, I got sick twice in two months - once was a cold, the other was prob Covid.

found out someone you knew had COVID? 🦠

Yes.

used an epi pen? 💉

No.

had a fever? 🥵

No.

had a migraine? 🧠

Too damn many.

gone on a date? 🌹

Loads.

written in a journal or diary? 📔

Yes.

given someone a hug? 🤗

Loads.

cut your hair? 💇‍♀️

No, but I dyed it a few times.

danced around your living room? 💃

No.

prayed? 🙏

No.

worshiped Jesus?

No.

read the Bible? 📖

No.

discovered a new favorite book? 📕

No.

gone to church? ⛪️

No.

went for a walk in the fall? 🍁

Probably.

set up and decorated a Christmas tree? 🎄

Yes.

threw up? 🤮

No.

almost threw up? 🤢

Yes.

discovered a new music artist you really liked? 🎤

Loads!

discovered a new song you really liked? 🎶

LOADS.

seen snow? ⛄️

No.

seen beautiful fall foliage? 🍁

Yes.

gone to the beach? 🏝

No.

rode a bike? 🚴

No.

rode a horse? 🐎

No.

swam? 👙

No.

worn makeup? 💄

No.

done a craft project?

No.

made a scrapbook page?

No.

written an essay? 📝

No.

painted something? 🎨

No.

drawn something? ✍️

No.

sketched in a sketchbook?

No.

written someone a letter? 📝

No.

been to a concert? 👩‍🎤

Yep, I went to see the Vengaboys last year.

driven a car? 🚘

No.

kayaked? 🛶

No.

gone on a cruise? 🚢

No.

made a big purchase?

Depends what you consider big.

moved to a new home? 🏡

No.

got a new pet?

No.

lost a pet?

No.

gotten a tattoo?

No.

gotten a new piercing?

No.

started a new hobby?

No.

worn a mask? 😷

We didn't have to wear them in 2023.

felt afraid to leave your house?

No.

celebrated your birthday alone?

No.

celebrated Christmas alone?

No.

went for a long walk through the neighborhood?

Yes.

Favorites of this Year (Pick one for each.)

Song:

Hard choice, probably CuteBad - Provocateur

Book:

Dunno.

TV show:

Raw or Dynamite.

Youtube channel:

I have loads of faves, but prob Call Me Kevin. He's always funny no matter what.

Food:

Mac & cheese.

Dessert:

Iceblocks.

Drink:

Starbucks mocha java chip frappe.

Friend:

Ngawari or David.

Thing you did:

Saw the Vengaboys or going to wrestling shows.

Place you went:

Nowhere lol.

Person you spend time with:

My Mum.

Thing you did for your birthday:

Gone to eat.

Celebrity:

Jon Moxley.

Website:

YouTube or last.fm.

Emojis:

Laughing crying face or heart.

Colors:

Purple & blue.

Restaurant:

Porterhouse Grill.

Tea flavor ☕️:

I don't like tea.

Final Questions!

Would you say this past year has been a good year overall?

Pretty good, yeah.

What are your goals for the new year?

Keep going to the gym, mainly.

How old will you turn next year?

37.

Did you make any big mistakes this past year?

No.

Do you have any big changes coming?

No.

How will you be celebrating New Year’s Eve this year?

I just hung out with my boyfriend and his friends and we had some drinks.

What was the best day of this year for you, and why?

Hard to pick.

What did you spend the most time doing this year?

Working and going to the gym, lol.

#survey #surveys #personal survey #random survey #2023 survey

[thisisjusticeformalinalxochitl]

Timeline

CW for abuse, SA/rape, pregnancy loss, self-harm, suicide, alcohol use. Please look at "resources" tab for support resources.

February 2009 - Raped by only friend in new city 1 week after Valentine's day. I was 20 and a sophomore in college; he was a 26 year old Army veteran. ("You're only the second guy I've *slept with." "Oof, you don't even want to know what number you are for me.") Boyfriend ("Max"; 22 yo) at that time of about 2 years blamed me. When he came to visit one time, though, he tried to fight my rapist at my job. (Rapist worked with me.) *It was right after it happened, and I hadn't processed what had happened.

Spring/Summer 2009 - I stopped going to classes, started binge drinking. "I don't care what the drink tastes like lol I drink just to get wasted!" Calling out of work at least once a week. Fighting, breaking up, getting back together with "Max". Suicidal when drunk.

Fall/Winter 2009 - finally broke up with Max. Drinking continually getting worse. Showed up to morning shifts/work functions still drunk from the night before. Hung over every other day. Suicidality getting worse/daily. After break up with Max, started hooking up with my rapist. My thought process was "well, no one else wants me, and I'm used trash anyway. He obviously wants me since he raped me". I don't know how often I would go over to his place, but I do know I had to be intoxicated when we hooked up. There were nights I didn't remember how I got home. - November 2009: met "Samuel" through online dating site. Still hooking up with rapist. Max would visit even though we were broken up, and I'd hook up with him, too. I wanted to feel like I was worth something. - December 2009: finally broke it off with Max and rapist; started dating Samuel (who was active Army at that time; 23 yo). Samuel surprised me one weekend with a brand new flatscreen TV for Christmas, along with a coffee maker (???) and something else that I can't remember. Basically, extravagant gifts for someone you've only been dating a week.

Early 2010 - Relationship with Samuel was intense and I fell in love quickly. He even asked in passing how I would feel if he got me a ring. As a hopeless romantic who felt dirty and unloved, I was overwhelmed with excitement and hope. Slowly, he let me see his "passionate" side. I felt like complimented each other as we were both "fiery" and would fight like my parents. He had a darkness in him like I did, and he had a sweet side only I had the privilege to see (gag). He was jealous and would question my male friendships; he'd show remorse and explain how he has trust issues and he just loved me so much that he was afraid to lose me. I eventually removed my male friends from my contacts/Facebook because the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. He got to keep his female friends because he knew them before he knew me and they had been an important part of his life when he was in "a dark place". I eventually started getting suspicious, and created a fake account on a hook-up website I saw he had an account with (he logged in with my laptop, signed out, but didn't clear the web history). I used it to see if he'd fall for my trap. A bit after I had forgotten to log out, so when HE went to log in, he was able to see that I was the fake profile. He showed up to my job with bloody/injured knuckles to return my key as he was "done with your bullshit". He told me "You should probably get your wall fixed". We spent at least 30 minutes fighting at my job's parking lot. I got home and saw he'd punched a hole in my apartment's wall. We fought again, for hours, and I didn't want to lose him because I'd gotten so dependent on him (I no longer had my own friends at this point). I thought I was doing an honorable thing and fighting for "us". He was so overcome by my unconditional love (eye roll), that he suddenly grabbed me, held me, and asked me to marry him. I said yes. This was March 2010.

Summer 2010 - After spending a couple months planning a dream wedding that would never come to fruition, I found out I was pregnant near the end of May 2010. I was over the moon. For context, most of my high school friends had already gotten married and started their families. My parents were very disappointed as I had yet to graduate college and was pregnant out of wedlock. Eventually, they accepted it, and my grandmother even advised me that the birth might be harder since I was having my first at an "older age". I was 21, about to turn 22. Samuel was excited to finally have a child he could raise (His ex-gf/baby mama had given birth to his child the year before but they both lived across the country). Our fights got worse. He would get drunk and call me names. I made the excuse that he only did that when he was drunk. During one of his drunken episodes, he called his "side chick" and she actually asked to talk to me, so I could calm him down. I thought she was just a friend, but felt icky just the same. Eventually the fights would get that bad even if he was sober. He got comfortable calling me out of my name. He'd play sorry and say he didn't want to lose me and the baby. I would forgive him. He'd buy me whatever I wanted or treat me to something special. Repeat. My sister graduated high school and moved in with me, as a way to escape our parents and to help me while I was pregnant and eventually with the baby (Samuel still lived on post in the barracks and had another year or so on his contract or whatever). At first, Samuel was happy I'd have someone to help me/keep an eye on me. As my sister got to know him and started witnessing our fights, she began to dislike him. Samuel sensed this and started to make small complaints about her. He gradually built up to open dislike, calling her a freeloader, lazy, etc and that I shouldn't be around that type of person. I began to see my sister as a threat to my relationship, and I was scared I'd end up a single mother. I began to resent her. - July 2010: first miscarriage

Fall/Winter 2010 - Married late 2010

2011: July - Samuel was honorably discharged from the Army on July 7. We finally moved in together full-time. Adopted 2 kittens from the shelter; they helped keep me from falling apart during the 1 year anniversary of my miscarriage.

Around the same time, Samuel enrolled part-time to my university, to take some basic classes until he figured out what he wanted to do now that he had been discharged. One was an online math course. He did a few of the quizzes and didn't do so well. He was visibly upset, and then he saw his points grade and thought that he was already failing. As I was explaining that his points score was out of the TOTAL points for all the assignments for the course, which had not been assigned yet, I saw he was shaking with anger. Suddenly he grabbed the top part of his laptop, and with the other hand punched through the screen. I froze when I saw how calm his face looked, but his eyes were wide with anger. I didn't know what to do. Before I knew it, my mouth was saying "what the hell, Sam?!". I remember him getting up slowly and then suddenly he was yelling and cussing. I stupidly tried to get him to calm down, but he didn't want to hear logic or reason. He wanted to soak in his anger and the apparent pleasure he got lashing out violently. I think I left him alone and went into the bedroom, leaving him to play one of our gaming consoles in the living room.

Late July/early August? - things got bad. I started getting the feeling that Samuel was talking to other women. There was a friend "Jennifer" who he was close with that he TOLD me was a previous romantic interest, but nothing serious developed, just a couple of dates. I was getting paranoid and jealous. I was taking a full load of summer classes, so I wasn't sure if it was the stress or if I was right.

One night, I was working on homework on the couch or my desk? And Samuel was sitting across the room at our dining table working on what I assumed was his own homework. I got up to give him some affection, hugging and kissing his forehead and whatnot, and I happened to look at his laptop (he bought a new one a few days after obliterating his other one). He was on Facebook...but not the one I recognized as his. It had a different profile picture and his nickname instead of his real name. I didn't say anything and acted like I hadn't noticed. I went back to my laptop and searched Facebook for the one with his nickname. Idk why, but I was hoping I was somehow wrong. I wasn't. He had two profiles: the one me, his friends, and family had and another one we didn't know existed.

My stomach churned, my chest felt tight, and my heart hurt. When I'm pissed or extremely offended/upset, my jaw does this weird tingle thing.

Early 2012

Summer 2012

Fall/Winter 2012

February 2013

Spring 2013

Summer/Fall 2013

Late 2013 through 2014 - ???? Trauma can affect your brain and memory to where you can actually lose chunks of time

2015

2016/early 2017 - ????

Fall/Winter 2017

Early 2018

Summer 2018 - divorced

Fall 2018-

Winter 2018 - Friend/old coworker died by suicide.

Early 2019

Winter 2019-late Spring 2020

[noloveforned]

so everything worked last week which means no love for ned now gets four hours every friday night on wlur! right now the plan remains to air the previous week's show at 10pm but it also opens the opportunity to do longer shows- like the annual 'best of twenty years ago' show i've been doing in december. hope you can join us tonight at 8pm but if not, there's always last week's show below!

no love for ned on wlur – july 15th, 2022 from 8-10pm

artist // track // album // label that dog. // ms. wrong // totally crushed out // dgc pennywhistle park // like you // split 7" w/ the crystal furs // emperial sugar slagheap // destination boyfriend // destination boyfriend digital single // (self-released) vintage crop // hold the line // kibitzer // anti fade cheekface // pledge drive // too much to ask // (self-released) girlsperm // disembodied man // the muse ascends // thrilling living hurry up // oh screw it // dismal nitch // comedy minus one optic sink // a face in the crowd // a face in the crowd 7" // spacecase vaginals // downsized to a pony ride // alien pleasures // weird cry the teardrop explodes // sleeping gas // kilimanjaro // mercury slack times // look at you // carried away // meritorio the roches // nurds // nurds // warner bros. willie nelson // cowboys are frequently secretly fond of each other // lost highway // lost highway quality used cars // me and damon drinking beers at the grandview hotel // quality of life // spoilsport phoebe bridgers // goodbye to love // minions- the rise of gru soundtrack // decca amirtha kidambi and luke stewart // relics // zenith/nadir cassette // tripticks tapes horace tapscott and michael session // lately's solo // live at théâtre du chêne noir in avignon, france 1989 // the village kibrom birhane // mender // here and there // flying carpet gary bartz // make me feel better // the shadow do! // prestige earth, wind and fire // that's the way of the world // that's the way of the world // columbia deep heat // do it again // super hits of the 70s compilation // numero group domi and jd beck featuring anderson .paak // take a chance // not tight // universal mick jenkins // speed racer // elephant in the room // cinematic charlotte adigéry and bolis pupul // blenda // topical dancer // deewee attia taylor // dog and pony show // space ghost // lame-o the afterglows // where to walk // the sound of the afterglows // salinas katie bejsiuk // vespers // the woman on the moon // double double whammy flowertown // half yesterday // half yesterday // mt. st. mtn the kalanchoes // i would have danced with you that night... // lot q cassette // little red wagon martin courtney // exit music // magic sign // domino jeanines // ever fallen in love // oakland weekender 2022 compilation cassette // oakland weekender

#wlur #radio shows

[anne-marie-xx]

1H ‘22 life summary

•January - first time ko maka-attend ng virtual year-ender party (yup, year-ender kasi it was originally planned last december but has been moved due to typhoon), and then nanalo kami ng team ko as 2nd place for our tiktok entry. at the same day after the party, had a deep convo w/ bangy over coffee and that’s how we realized how hard adulting life is.

•February - celebrated my birthday at home with my fav lumpiang shanghai as the main handa. this is the time also na nagdecide ako na magtake ng CIE pero very limited lang yung pinagsabihan ko, even my family don’t know na magtetake ako. on the same month, nalaman ko rin pala na i’ll be moving to a higher position sa work which was very overwhelming kasi di pa ako regular pero i was chosen to go up. kahit wala pa ako mastery sa current role, ginrab ko pa rin yung new opportunity cause why not.

•March - after a long time, natry ko ulit magjogging sa field, pero nagunli wings kami after ni mai. mid-week, naghike ako with my closest friends ; dandan and wen. epic lang kasi upon seeing the post for the hike, naka-indicate sya as for beginner. so kaya ang lakas rin ng loob namin mag-go. pero when we’re already in the middle of our hike, di namin maisip how it came out as for begginers. and only that day also we realized na twin hike pala yun, so dalawang bundok yung na-akyat namin. sobrang pagod that day, pero will never forget na nakaya namin.

•April - slightly nagreview ako for CIE and even went to a foodpark the night before the exam. given na busy sa work and andami kong hangouts every weekend, di talaga ako nakafocus sa review so during the exam day, nawalan nako ng hope na makakapasa ako. like i’ve been skipping every item on each part kasi wala talaga akong makuhang sagot and if meron man, wala sya sa choices. nagkaroon rin pala ako ng line tour sa work ko and nameet ko rin yung ibang counterparts ko. since medyo malayo yung workplace ko, for one night, sa staff house ng company ako natulog which doesn’t seem like an ordinary one, feel ko nasa hotel ako. right after ko mag-office, umattend ako ng leni-kiko rally, wala kaming kasiguraduhan sa sasakyan namin papunta at pauwi but we still took the risk because in our heart, we wanted to be in the fight. it was also my first time to know where I stand and to completely believe that there’s hope.

•May - pumila ako for almost two hours para bumoto, syempre leni-kiko tayo para sa kulay rosas na bukas. but as the day ends, i can feel the pain kasi hindi naging pabor yung resulta. there’s also this one time na meron ako heavy meeting w/ management so before that nagpapractice ako pano ko ipepresent yung data ko, then biglang may nagchat na “uy kumuha ka pala”. isang line pa lang yun pero inopen ko agad fb ko to check and validate if CIE ba yun, and then ayun nakita ko yung name ko sa list of passers. nawala yung pinractice ko for the meeting and nagtweet ako na puro naka-caps lock. di ko alam how i got there pero sobrang grateful pa rin na nakapasa ako. nagsimba kami ng fam and then kumain kami together, my treat syempre.

•June - nag 1-on-1 kami ng supervisor ko and nashare nya na magreresign na sya, it was a revelation rin na he’ll be transitioning some of his works saken. i see it as an opportunity again to grow, though still questioning myself if deserve ko ba lahat yun. gold moment that i was able to present sa CEO ng company namin. it was the same month also na umattend ako ng oath taking for CIE, sobrang surreal lang ng feeling. umattend rin pala ng get-together with high school friends sa isang private resort, sobrang kalmado ng gabi na yun, naramdaman kong pwede pala dumaan ang araw na hindi ako bothered. sobrang happy rin kasi after so many years, nagmeet ulit kami.

[liu-lang]

i tested positive for covid today, saturday, dec 18

i'm quite certain i got it from my roommate who got it from another group of friends. my roommate tested negative last week and we thought we were all in the clear. monday, december 13 she doesn't feel well but chalked it up to being hungover as she had gone on a date at the weekend. she starts coughing and hopes it's a cold.

wednesday, december 15, her coughing is worse. she gets a test on thursday, december 16. i'm on campus for finals and work and i go to one of those covid test tents outside campus, i get a rapid antigen test and a pcr test. no idea what's going on with processing tests but i don't get the antigen test results back in 15 min and my pcr test doesn't come back in 24 to 48 hours.

i try my best to quarantine from wednesday, december 15 to now. i start to rmbr that i've had a sore throat for awhile, definitely some time earlier this week but i can't rmbr which exact day. I don’t think much of it at the time as I thought my roommate was negative.

i start to have a cough, headache and body aches too but i attribute that to my body crashing after my anxiety attack about my presentation. the person my roommate went on a date with tells her that they tested positive. my 3rd roommate tested negative this morning and left the apartment. but since i've just tested positive today, they will retest. Both my roommates are fully vaccinated but not boosted.

the work week ends and i finally have time to get tested this morning. the mobile test sites don't operate at the weekend which is a bummer. i go to a small independent (like not a cvs or rite aid) pharmacy and get a rapid antigen test. they call me in 10 min around 11h00 and say i'm negative. at the small pharmacy, my insurance doesn't cover pcr tests and i can't afford to pay out of pocket.

i walked around trying to find pcr testing sites. i go to urgent care where there is a long line going out the door, around the building. i wait in queue. it starts to rain and it's freezing, like 4 C. i didn't think the weather would be this gloomy so i'm not dressed to wait in queue, i don't have my gloves. i wait in queue from 11h~ to around 14h~. the queue moves along to where i'm allowed inside. the medical assistant says they only do pcr tests, results come in 3 days. no antigen rapid tests unless you have an appointment. i'm worried but i try and comfort myself tt i just had a negative rapid antigen test, i'm just here to be cautious. i'm the only person coughing in the waiting room ; it also doesn't help i'm chinese. i stand in a corner facing the wall trying to stifle my cough.

they take me into an exam room and take vitals and a medical history. i tell them about my roommate testing positive, the timeline of her symptoms and mine, my own heart defects. they decided to give me a rapid antigen test. after 15 min the PA comes inside and tells me i have covid. i'm so tired and cold at this point i can't really process it. she assures me that since i'm double vaccinated and boosted (all moderna) hopefully i will just have a mild case and it's likely it's omicron. the medical assistant who took my vitals told me earlier that most people testing positive are vaccinated and boosted.

i walk home and i skype call tiny kitty and my boyfriend, he is worried, i am worried. i decide to tell my twin but not my little sister since my little sister has a different relationship to our mum than us. i think my little sister would feel more burdened having to keep this info from my mum. i think about how my mum got covid last year around christmas too and had to go to hospital.

i get flashbacks about my pneumonia hospitalisations in beijing and my cellulitis hospitalisations this July and try to stop my mind from wandering. I don’t wanna be alone in hospital again. i have therapy on monday, i think to myself tt i have time to process this then. i have a final project that is due wednesday, dec 22. i'm really worried about this - i don't want to ask for an extension yet idk how i can do it all this weekend having covid. i just want this semester to be over. i email my classmates and professor from tuesday and thursday that i have covid. i still need to email my employer - i feel really bad about it as i just started this job and it's a job i have to do on campus.

right now i'm resting at home, i'm checking my temperature (i have a fever) and my oxygen levels, i have enough groceries to last me the 10 days of quarantine. i'm bummed out tt i have a few friends who've returned to nyc for holidays and now i might not be able to see them. i'm also thinking about my plan to go back to socal in mid-jan to see my boyfriend and tiny kitty :( and whether i'll get to do it.

#personal #nyc move #grad school #covid 19 #please get fully vaccinated and boosted!

[cadence-talle]

Sugar Snow and Peppermint Pathways

Pairing: Fitz Vacker/Dex Dizznee, Sophie Foster/Biana Vacker

Wordcount: 9,587

Summary: Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever.

Dex rolls out the cookie dough again. "I hate them so much."

(Or: nearly everyone is a famous baker, Biana and Fitz are both a little bit in love, and Dex Dizznee does not, under any circumstances, want to interact with the Vackers.) 

Other notes: my Winter Exchange gift for @yeetersofthelostcities! I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you as much about this fic as I did, but it’s also 9k, so I think you can forgive me.

Read it on AO3 (much recommended since this is long and some of the fonts didn’t quite translate to Tumblr) or under the cut!

World-Famous Vacker Siblings Rumored To Be On 2020’s Annual Holiday Bake-Off 

Fitzroy and Biana Vacker have been making a lot of headlines this year, from the opening of their new bakery in Chicago to the millions of dollars they’ve donated to various charities around the globe. The sibling duo seems to have been born with baking skills- and it’s no surprise, since their mother is Della Vacker, author of five bestselling cookbooks. (See our biography of Della Vacker if you’d like to learn more!) 

But this December may mark their greatest trial yet. Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off garnered more than three million views last year, and it’s set to get even more attention this year now that four-star restaurant owner Edaline Ruewen is hosting. 

For those of you new to the bake-off, the rules are simple: it’s comprised of five different baking challenges, spread out over the week leading up to Christmas Day. Each of the eight competitors will have five different chances to wow the judges- and on the final day, whoever’s made the most impact will win thousands of dollars. Unlike many baking shows out there, the Holiday Bake-Off isn’t elimination-based, which viewers claim makes it all the more interesting. Each competitor, however, is entirely on their own- which means that if the Vacker siblings do attend, they’ll be working against each other for the first time ever. 

--read more--

OTHER NEWS

13 Christmas Cookie recipes to brighten up your winter! 

“It’s All In The Butter”: Edaline Ruewen shares the secret of her famous butterblasts! 

Fintan Pyren opens a new barbeque joint in Upper Manhattan. Its name? Flambé. 

Subscribe to BAKER’S WEEKLY ONLINE today and get a free tote bag! 

-/-

December 12, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“No.”

“Yes,” Biana says cheerfully, leaning over the dining room table to ruffle her brother’s hair. Fitz glares at her. “I’ve already signed the papers.” 

“But-” Fitz sighs, apparently already giving up. “Ugh. I’m busy.” 

“Fun fact: spending thirty hours trying to refine the perfect croissant recipe does not qualify as being ‘busy’. Our croissants are delicious. They don’t need any more work. You, however, need a vacation.” 

“Funner fact: competing against my own sister on a reality show broadcast to the country is less of a vacation than working out apricot croissants would be.” 

“Even more fun fact: ‘funner’ is not a word.” 

“Even funner fact: I literally do not give a single fuck.” 

Della’s laugh crackles over the phone, warm and bright. “Language, Fitzroy,” she says. Livvy snorts. 

“He’s twenty-two years old, Dell. I don’t think you get to say that.” 

Biana giggles. She can almost picture the scene at the other end of the call- her moms curled up on the couch, Della nursing a cup of mulled cider as Livvy talks intently about her patients at the hospital. Their menorah will have four candles lit by tonight, mirroring the one that sits on Biana’s own side table. The whole house will be filled with warmth and laughter. 

Biana misses that sometimes, looking around her empty apartment. Wishes she was still a little girl and could snuggle up next to her mom and watch The Nutcracker because Della knew, without asking, that Biana was sad. Before all this… responsibility.

That’s not really fair, though, because when she was a little girl Livvy wasn’t there, and Della was sad, and Fitz was angry. So maybe she doesn’t miss the old days- maybe she just misses having someone there to understand her. 

Fitz is here, she reminds herself. He’s not leaving. He’s good, and he’s not leaving. 

“... chocolate chips on the ceiling,” her brother is saying when Biana snaps back to the conversation. Over the phone, Della groans. 

“Don’t even mention that. Goodness, I’m glad you’ve left the ‘crazy parties’ stage of your life behind, Fitz. Those were hell to clean up after.” 

“I don’t know, it was pretty funny to watch him try to repair a chair while hungover the next morning,” Biana teases. Fitz rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. 

“I didn’t-” 

There’s a loud beeping noise Biana registers as an oven timer, and she spins around towards her kitchen before realizing it’s coming from her moms’ end. Della makes an apologetic noise. 

“Sorry, darlings, we should go. I love you!”

“Love you too,” Biana and Fitz echo. There’s a rustling sound, like Della is moving to hang up, and then she pauses. 

“Oh, and Fitz, I think the Holiday Bake-Off is a wonderful idea. Good luck!” 

And then Biana’s phone is flashing the Time Elapsed: 22 minutes screen, and her brother is back to glaring at her. 

“No.”

“I’m not arguing this anymore,” Biana says, moving towards the kitchen and filling up a pot of water. “Do we want spaghetti for dinner?”

“Sure,” Fitz retrieves several cans of tomato sauce and dumps them in a pot. “I just- sorry. What if we lose?”

“Well, at least one of us is going to lose,” Biana points out. “And even if we both get the lowest ratings in the entire show, so what? We don’t need the money.”

“But-” Fitz waves his hands in the air. “We’re going to be- people are going to be watching us. What happens if we fuck up?” 

Oh. Of course that’s what he’s worried about. Fitz has always, always been worried about public appearances. Biana sets the water on the stove and moves over to him, leaning against the opposite counter. 

“Bro. Man. My dude.” She says seriously. Fitz purses his lips in a way that makes it clear he’s hiding a smile. “Fitz, we’re going to be fine. No one’s going to be judging how we do in this competition.”

“Sorry, do you hear yourself?”

“Okay, fair, but you know what I mean. Losing this contest isn’t going to wreck our business. If we can strike up enough of a friendship with whoever does win, we could even stand to grow.”

Fitz stares at her. Biana stares back. The tomato sauce starts to bubble. 

“Fine,” Fitz finally says. “Do we have any veggie meatballs?” 

-/-

December 13, 2020.

The Good Place Bakery

Middlebury, Vermont. 

Dex drops the cookie dough onto the flour-covered counter, smacking it with what’s probably more force than necessary. It holds up, though, and he cuts out two entire trays of tiny snowmen and stars before his co-owner arrives in a blaze of glory. 

“Guess who’s got a date this weekend!” Keefe sings, dumping his coat on a hook and pushing himself up on the counter. He gets a good look at Dex’s face and frowns. “Whoa, who bruleed your creme?”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Dex rolls his eyes, “and everything’s fine. What poor guy did you pick up now?”

“His name’s Nathan and he’s beautiful,” Keefe sighs. “But don’t try to change the subject. Why do you have your grumpy face on?”

Dex grabs the letter from where he threw it across the room half an hour ago and hands it to the other man. Keefe skims it. 

“You have been invited onto Netflix’s Happy Holiday Bake-Off,” he reads. He glances up at Dex. “Okay… didn’t we already know that? Soph’s been talking about the contest for weeks.”

“Yes, but I got more information this time around,” Dex says tightly. “And it turns out the Vacker siblings are also competing.”

“Oh.” Keefe sets the letter down and picks up one of the cookie sheets, sliding it into the oven. “Well, I think you can beat them.”

“Of course I can beat them,” Dex snaps. “That’s not the problem. The problem is-” he sweeps up the dough scraps and prepares to roll them out again. “The problem is they’re fake and I don’t like them.”

He’s aware he sounds like a child. It’s hard to describe, though, what makes him so frustrated about the Vacker siblings. The two of them just make it look so… easy, though. Born into fame and given a head start in front of everyone else. Dex had to take out three different loans to start this bakery, and even that was with Keefe’s huge trust fund. 

“They’re just… fake,” he says lamely. “No one’s that perfect.” 

“Mmm.” Keefe hums, then murmurs, “okay, but you know who is that perfect?”

Dex sighs. “Okay, tell me about Nathan.”

Keefe is halfway through the story of how they met- at the library, apparently, because that’s widely known to be the most romantic spot in town- when Amy shoves through the doors and steals an unbaked cookie. 

“Morning,” she grins around a mouthful of crumbs. Dex raises an eyebrow and slides the cookie sheet towards Keefe before she can eat more. 

“Morning,” he says. “How’s Marty?”

“Still hates everyone but Sophie,” Amy shrugs. “Who isn’t here, obviously, because she and Mom are in Chicago setting up the Bake-Off.” She squints at Dex. “I can’t believe you got onto the show. There have to be rules against that.”

“Technically, that only applies if it’s direct relation. So, like, kids and parents.” Keefe grabs a piece of cookie dough. “Plus, even if Edaline did give Dex super high ratings on everything, he can’t win unless the other judges agree.”

“You’re going to get salmonella,” Dex tells the two of them. “But yeah, Keefe’s right. I’ll have to actually try if I want to win.”

“Do you?” Amy asks. Dex bites his lip, dusting some flour off his shirt.

“The money would be nice, I guess. But- I don’t know. We’ll get publicity either way, and that’s what’s important.”

“Attaboy,” Keefe gives him a thumbs-up. “You’re gonna win all the brownie points. Well, assuming they have you make brownies.”

“I-” Dex stares at him, shaking his head. “Why don’t you tell Amy about Nathan.” 

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois. 

Biana glances around the room, light reflecting off the chandelier above and casting glittering patterns on the carpet and various couches scattered around the hall-like space. Four days have passed she broke the news to Fitz, and she’s wondering if this was a bad idea after all.

She’s not the first one here, thank goodness; there’s a tiny blond woman seated on a chair further down chatting to a man with silver-dyed bangs and a frizzy-haired woman tapping impatiently on her phone a few feet away. A door at the other end of the hall presumably leads further into the hotel. 

A buzz in her pocket prompts her to retrieve her phone, and Biana opens it to find three texts from her brother.

ritzroy

Ok I made it to our room

[image.jpg]

There’s a paper crane on the kitchen counter is this some sort of message

me

yes.

they're trying to tell u that u r a paper crane

ritzroy

*you *are 

I know you only do that to annoy me.

me

<3

now get down here i feel awkward standing all by myself

ritzroy 

Have you tried talking to people?

me

fuck you

Sighing a bit, she plops down on a couch half-obscured by a large plant. Someone coughs from where they’re sitting next to her and Biana turns around to apologize. 

“Hi,” says Sophie Foster. 

Biana stares. The woman is about half an inch shorter than her, blond hair tucked back into a ponytail and white blouse slightly wrinkled. Biana’s seen this face on television upwards of a hundred times- the award-winning chef daughter of Grady and Edaline Ruewen attracts attention, after all- but never quite like this, with eyebrows furrowed and mouth tilted a little to the side. 

“Hey,” Biana says about a minute too late. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t know there was someone sitting here.” 

“No problem,” Sophie assures her. “You’re Biana Vacker, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Biana nods, slightly stunned that Sophie Elizabeth Foster knows her name. “You’re- Sophie Foster.”  

“That’s me,” Sophie says, smiling a little. “You ready for the competition?”

“Definitely,” Biana responds. “I mean, I don’t celebrate Christmas, but I watched the Holiday Bake-Off last year, and it seems like it’s super fun? And it’ll be cool to see what other people make too.” 

“Yeah.” Silence falls over the two of them, and Biana cringes inwardly. This is the worst possible thing. Where on earth is her brother? 

Searching for something to say, Biana opens her mouth. “Um-”

“Huh?” Sophie turns a little more towards her, eyes fixed on Biana’s face. Biana swallows a little.

“Uh, I was actually really nervous when I noticed I was sitting next to you. I’m kind of a huge fan.” 

Sophie blinks. “You’re kidding.”

“No?”

“When I found out you were going to be competing, I literally asked my mom if she could get me on the show because I wanted to meet you so bad.”

Biana’s staring again. “Oh.” 

Sophie’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out, tapping the screen. Biana tilts her head a little in confusion.

“Gotta go,” Sophie says with an apologetic smile. She stands up and starts towards the door, turning back to say one last thing before she leaves. 

“You’re even prettier in person.” 

When Fitz shows up two minutes later, Biana’s still staring wide-eyed at the place where Sophie was just standing. Her brother flops down onto the couch next to her and raises an eyebrow. 

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Biana shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Well, I dropped the bags off. The room’s nice,” Fitz offers. “Oh, and Mom says we should video chat tonight. She wants the tea.”

Biana blinks. “The… tea.”

“Her words, not mine.”

“Yeah, I think I could tell. What-”

“Hello, everyone!” The door at the end of the hall swings open and a smiling red-haired woman steps out, followed by two others. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Edaline Ruewen, from Vermont. I’ll be one of the judges next week. We’re all gonna go around and introduce ourselves, I’ll outline a schedule, and then y’all will be free to go. Cadence?”

“Good afternoon,” a tall dark-skinned woman greets. “I’m Cadence Talle, food journalist for the LA Times. I’ll be another one of your judges, along with-”

“Bronte.” The third man interrupts. He raises an eyebrow at the faces waiting for him to go on. “Well?”

“Looks like someone’s judging us already,” Fitz whispers. Biana muffles a laugh in her coat sleeve as the blond woman from before speaks up. 

“Hi, I’m Marella Redek. I’m a pastry chef over in Portland.” 

“Tam Song. I do the baking for a restaurant here in the city.”

People introduce themselves quickly, names flashing by in quick succession- Maruca Chebota, Jensi Babblos, Stina Heks. 

“I’m Biana Vacker,” Biana says when it’s her turn. “My brother and I co-manage a couple bakeries across the country.” 

Fitz raises his hand. “I’m her brother.” 

“Dex Dizznee,” says the last competitor, a strawberry-blond man seated on the arm of a couch. “I have a bakery up in Middlebury.” 

“Wait, The Good Place?” Fitz leans forward. “I made your chocolate cream pie recipe once. It’s fantastic.”

Dex blinks, face finally settling in an expression that reminds Biana of some of the people at the huge dinner parties her dad used to throw- carefully, delicately concealed disdain. She wonders what Fitz has done to warrant that look. 

“Oh, that’s cool,” Dex says calmly. “Chocolate cream is one of my co-owner’s favorites, actually.” 

Fitz nods. “Neat.” 

Edaline smiles at them, clapping her hands for attention. “All right! Let’s go over the schedule, then. The first round is on Saturday, and the last one is next Wednesday. You’ll be expected to arrive at the kitchens by eleven am…”

“What’s up with him?” Biana whispers. Fitz raises one shoulder in a tiny shrug. 

“I don’t know, but he doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

There’s no way Dex can hear them- he’s nearly fifteen feet away and Edaline’s voice carries throughout the entire hall. Still, he’s staring at Fitz when Biana glances at him, and there’s molten caramel in his gaze. 

-/-

December 17, 2020.

Some Fancy Room In Some Fancy Hotel

Chicago, Illinois.

“And then he just went, ‘Neat.’ Neat? Like, what the fuck?”

“Dude, you know I love you, but don’t you think you’re making a bit of a big deal out of this? He just complimented the bakery.”

Dex heaves a sigh, flopping onto his hotel bed and staring up at the light fixture. It’s probably trendy, with all those boxes or whatever, but Dex can’t really tell. This is why he’s a baker. 

“I know, I know. He just- gets under my skin. I’ve been pissed all day.”

“Funny,” Keefe says, and Dex can just hear him smiling. “I thought you had more of a problem with the Vackers as a whole than you did with Fitz. Or is he just too attractive to be anything but your singular arch-nemesis?” 

“Enemies to lovers speedrun,” Amy calls in the background and Keefe laughs. He’s probably having dinner with Grady and Amy tonight like they typically do once a month. Normally, Dex, Sophie and Edaline are there too. 

Dex’s family is weirdly spread across the country- Grady and Edaline live an hour away, Rex and Bex are somehow both coexisting at Seattle University while Lex stays closer to home back in Michigan, and Sophie and Amy split their time between Middlebury and their apartment in San Francisco. They do their best to stay in touch, though, even with the bakery’s odd hours and the Ruewen’s constant media appearances. 

“So how’s the hotel?” Keefe asks. Dex shrugs. 

“It’s a hotel. My room has a little kitchen, which is nice, and there’s, like, a bigger community pantry-slash-kitchen down the hall. It feels like college.” 

“College is worse, actually,” Amy says. Dex snorts.

“You say that like I haven’t been to college.” 

“Dude, we met in college,” Keefe points out, “and you did not get the full college experience. You just, like, baked 23/7 and then miraculously passed all your classes with the last hour.”

“Yes,” Dex says over the sound of Amy’s cackling. “Yes, that is exactly what I did. You’re completely right.” 

“I know,” Keefe says. “I’m always right. I have, never, ever done anything wrong.”

“You called me this morning to freak out over your date outfit for a date that’s three days away, but go off I guess.” Amy deadpans. 

“Fuck you-” The sounds of a small scuffle come through the speakers and Dex rolls his eyes. 

“I’m going to sleep,” he calls. “See you guys in a week.”

“Good luck!” Amy calls, and Dex hangs up. 

-/-

December 19, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois.

Biana tucks one last strand of hair back into her braid and glances over at the imposing black camera standing next to her station. There are ones just like it scattered around the entire room, fluorescent overhead lights reflected off their shiny exteriors. It’ll be weird trying to bake with someone recording her the whole time, but she can take it.

“Good morning, everyone!” Edaline calls, sweeping out to the judges bench with Cadence and Bronte close on her heels. There’s some sort of sheet-covered circle on the wall behind them. “I hope y’all are ready to bake!”

Everyone cheers and Edaline throws her head back, laughing a laugh with just enough snort in it to sound real. Biana’s reminded suddenly of her own mother; Edaline has the same sort of tough core and caring nature covered by a thin layer of plastic for the cameras. She wonders if Sophie is the same.

“And without further ado,” Edaline says. Biana snaps her attention back, hoping she hasn’t missed anything important. “Today’s challenge is…”

Bronte tugs on the fabric and it falls away to reveal a casino-style roulette wheel. If Biana squints, she can see words written on each colored section; CHOCOLATE and RASPBERRY and ALMOND. 

“Cookies,” he announces. 

Cadence sweeps her gaze over all of them. “Spin the wheel twice to find out what ingredients you need to include, and then you’ll have forty-five minutes to bake. Understood?”

Biana nods, glancing at the camera out of the corner of her eye and rearranging her face into something a bit more excited. She should probably start thinking about what to say in the post-baking interview.

Fitz is the first to spin the wheel, and he gets COCONUT and STRAWBERRY. He looks a little confused but smiles, media persona still firmly in place. 

Biana gets GINGER and CHOCOLATE, returning to her station with a wide smile. This recipe is one she created with Livvy- they were home alone while Della and Fitz went out to a show and decided to try the most difficult food combinations they could think of.

Honey-covered crickets were surprisingly delicious. Hot sauce mixed with Gatorade was not.

(I knew what I was going to do immediately, she tells the cameras afterward. It’s a family favorite; chocolate-ginger crinkle cookies.)

She retrieves a packet of candied ginger and grabs two bags of chocolate chips, dumping one bag in a saucepan and starting to melt them. A few feet away, Dex Dizznee stares at his ingredients- ALMOND and ANISE, a fairly simple combination- before turning away towards the ingredients. If Biana had to hazard a guess, she’d say he’s making biscotti. 

(Biscotti’s probably too obvious for almonds, Dex shrugs later, but my friend Keefe and I perfected an almond-anise biscotti a while back and I figured, why waste what little time I had on something new?)

Once she gets started, it’s easy to just focus on the recipe. She’s not like Fitz; baking’s not the be-all end-all stress reliever it is for him, but there’s definitely something comforting about the familiar motions. Before she knows it, she’s pulling the sheets out of the oven and arranging the prettiest ones on a plate for the judges to try.

Marella Redek goes up first, showing off her caramel-pecan shortbread with a polite smile. 

(I’m just glad I didn’t get one of those crazy combinations, she says with a sigh of relief.)

Then Fitz, who’s managed to make tiny sandwich cookies filled with strawberry jam and dusted with coconut in forty-five minutes. He fidgets with his hands as the judges taste them.

(I was really worried when I got my ingredients. I’m so relieved they turned out okay.) 

Biana’s cookies go over well, Cadence nodding and reaching for another one. Finally Dex Dizznee steps up. 

“Almond-anise biscotti,” he says with a small smile. The judges all bite into the cookies at the same time and smile.

“Delicious,” Bronte says. Dex grins and steps back to his station.

Fifteen minutes later, the contestants stand in front of the judges bench in a straight line, worried eyes and tapping feet all the way down.

“All your cookies were exquisite,” Edaline says. “But one of you made a fantastic first impression.” 

Cadence offers the group a tiny, sideways smile. “Dexter Dizznee,” she says. “You are today’s winner.”

There’s a round of applause and Dex’s cheeks go a little bit red. 

“Thank you,” he says.

(I won! It’s only the first round, of course, but I’m still proud to have started off on the right foot.)

“Hey,” Biana nudges her brother’s shoulder as they trail out of the room for individual interviews.“That wasn’t too bad, huh?” 

“No,” Fitz tilts his head and glances back at the still-smiling Dex. “I guess it wasn’t.”

(I don’t think I’m too sad about losing this round. Dex’s cookies looked absolutely delicious, anyway.)

Biana’s phone buzzes on the way back to her room. She pulls it out to see two messages from an unknown number. 

415-623-7868 

hi!! sorry if this is mega creepy but it was super cool to meet you the other day and i’d love to talk more sometime

this is sophie foster btw

“Holy shit,” Biana whispers. Her brother turns around with a questioning glance but she waves him off. “Nothing, I’m fine.” She’s pretty sure she’s grinning at her phone screen with all the force of a thousand suns. “I’m totally fine.”

(Tomorrow, we try again.) 

-/-

December 20, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

Buoyed by the previous day’s success and an especially good breakfast buffet (he is not immune to chocolate-chip pancakes, no matter what he might claim), Dex practically floats into the kitchen the next day. His mood isn’t even brought down by Bronte’s lackluster announcement that the second challenge is simply Snowflakes. The bakery’s meringues are a town favorite for a reason, after all, and that reason is that they’re fucking good. 

He does get annoyed, though, by the man leaning against a counter a few feet away as he pipes the meringue. Fitz Vacker is tapping his fingers against the marble, watching the ice cream machine with a calm sort of fixation. Dex huffs and accidentally pipes too much meringue on the baking sheet. 

“Do you mind?” He grumbles under his breath. Fitz’s head snaps up. 

“Sorry,” he says, slight accent curling around his words. It’s not a British accent or really any sort Dex can discern, and that just makes him more frustrated. “Am I in your way?”

“No,” Dex says as politely as he can. He’s well aware of the cameras standing a few feet away. “No, you're fine.”

Fitz nods and tilts his head towards the meringues, apparently taking Dex’s grudging silence as an invitation. “Those look pretty good.”

“Thank you,” Dex says shortly, letting out an annoyed sigh internally when Fitz doesn’t budge. “You’re making ice cream?”

“Heh, yeah. I couldn’t really think of anything else, so.” Fitz shrugs. “Ice cream bars.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “At least it’s cold, right? Like snow.” 

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, like snow.” He leans back a little to give the now-completed snowflakes a once-over. “What do you think?”

“They look great!” Fitz enthuses, jumping a bit when the ice cream machine lets out a long beep. “Oh, looks like that’s me. I should go. Nice to meet you!”

And then he’s off to his own station, bowl of ice cream clutched tightly in one hand. Dex allows himself thirty seconds of staring into the camera like he’s on The Office before he sighs and slides the meringues into the oven. 

What on earth was that. 

He bumps into Sophie on his way out of the room after interviews. Biana Vacker’s chocolate-pecan-bark snowflakes won today; unsurprising, since they looked almost real- and he kind of just wants to go back to his room and sleep for a month. His cousin, however, seems to have other ideas.

“Quick,” she says, grabbing his arm. Her phone is in her other hand, screen lighting up with a message. “How much would my mom kill me if I went on a date with one of the Bake-Off contestants?”

“Um,” Dex blinks. “I’m going to need some more information?” 

“Okay, so I met Biana Vacker the other day, and I might have gotten her number from the contestant files we have? And then texted her? For like five hours last night? And I might have asked her out and she might have said yes?” Sophie tugs at her eyelashes. “Please help me, I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“You’re going on a date with Biana Vacker,” Dex confirms. “Why?” 

“Because she’s smart, and pretty, and incredibly funny, and because I don’t have some weird hate-obsession with her.” 

“I don’t-”

“Yes, you do. Seriously, how much is Mom going to murder me for this?”

“How much is Mom going to murder you for what?”

Edaline’s standing a few feet away, arms folded across her chest and eyebrows raised. Sophie’s eyes go wide, but she sighs as if already giving up.

Dex gets it. Edaline is scary when she wants to be.

“Is it illegal and-slash-or nepotism if I go on a date with Biana Vacker tomorrow night?”

Edaline blinks. “Probably not? As long as you can confirm that she’s not using you to get further in the contest.” She shrugs. “I could talk to Cadence and Bronte about it, but they were all right with Dex being on the show, so.”

“Wait, really?” Sophie grins and throws her arms around her mother. “This is the best. Thanks, Mom! I’m gonna go text her.” 

She takes off down the hall, typing frantically. Edaline watches her go with a fond smile. 

“It’s incredibly weird to see her this old,” She says to Dex. “I still think of her as twelve, honestly.”

Dex snorts. “Yeah.”

“So,” Edaline cocks her head, looking at him with the same I’m going to ask you a question and we both know what the right answer is look that Dex’s own mother has. “I saw you talking to Fitz Vacker earlier. Making friends?”

“No.” Dex says immediately. Then he rolls his eyes. “He’s not as bad as I was expecting, though.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, like, posh and rich and British or whatever they are. But he’s actually a decent person or whatever.”

“Or whatever.” Edaline laughs. “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun either way. I’ve got to get to a meeting, but I’ll see you later, all right? Say hi to Keefe for me.”

Dex nods and heads back to his room.

He really needs to sleep. 

-/-

December 21, 2020.

The Art Institute of Chicago

Chicago, Illinois.

“Here we are,” Sophie says as they push through museum security and enter the clearly-marked Thorne Rooms. Biana glances at the art curiously; the exhibit is made up of tiny glass windows set into low walls all around. She peers into one and lets out a tiny gasp. 

“Oh.”

It’s a tiny room in there; chairs and sofas all with perfectly embroidered cushions as small as Biana’s thumb. Through minuscule doors in the back, Biana glimpses a painted background and a balcony. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. 

Sophie snorts behind her, and Biana realizes she said that last bit out loud. “Right? It’s all real, too. Took Narcissa Thorne and her craftsmen eight years.”

“Wow.” 

“I used to come here all the time,” Sophie says, stepping forward and tracing one finger over the glass. “Whenever we were in town. I wished I could live in some of these rooms.” She glances back at Biana and gives a little self-deprecating smile. “Pretty stupid, probably.”

“No, it’s not,” Biana shakes her head. “I get it. It would be nice to escape for a little bit, especially to a place that looks like that.” She tilts her head at the room. Sophie laughs. 

“I’ll bet it gets really dusty, though. And that chair seems highly uncomfortable.”

They move throughout the whole exhibit, making low comments to each other every time they see a particularly amazing piece of furniture or a fancy candlestick. Biana finds herself relaxing more and more- Sophie is smart, and funny, and keeps shooting her little smiles that make Biana’s knees weak. 

That day’s competition had been the hardest yet. Each contestant had had to make a dessert based around a Christmas carol; a specific, judge-assigned Christmas carol. It was, for lack of a better term, absolute shit.

Biana had gotten Santa Claus Is Coming To Town- not the worst, considering the circumstances, and at least she knew it- and had had to figure out how to map the route of an overweight stalker on baked goods. 

She hadn’t won; that honor had gone to Maruca Chebota’s fondant replica of a sleigh for Over The River And Through The Woods. (Biana is pretty sure that song is actually a Thanksgiving song, but she wasn’t going to contradict.) Still, Biana’s happy, content as they leave the museum and move down to an Italian restaurant a few blocks away. Smiling as Sophie’s hand brushes against hers. 

They get settled in a little corner near a window, knees bumping under the table. The room is dim, lit by one chandelier in the middle and candles on every table. It’s warm, something delicious wafting through the air. 

Sophie leans forward to grab a menu, hair lit golden in the candlelight, and Biana revises her earlier statement. The Thorne Rooms aren’t the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. This woman is. 

“Everything okay?” Sophie asks. Biana realizes she’s been staring and gives her a quick nod. 

“Yeah, no. Everything’s perfect.” She glances down at the tablecloth, sees Sophie fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “Are you all right?”

“I, uh,” Sophie tugs at one of her eyelashes. “I just wanted to say that I don’t really tend to talk to my mom about the competition? So, like, if you’re just trying to get an edge or something-”

“No!” Biana shakes her head, reaching forward to grab the other woman’s hand. “No, no no. Absolutely not. This is like, the opposite of that.” 

“Pretty sure the opposite of that would be divorcing me to lose the Bake-Off,” Sophie says, but she’s smiling. Biana smiles back. 

“Well, I don’t want to do that either.”

“What do you want to do?”

Biana shrugs. “I don’t know. This is pretty nice. I like spending time with you.”

Sophie blushes and tightens her grip on Biana’s hand. “I-”

“Pardon me.” There’s a waiter standing next to their table, notepad in hand. He offers them an awkward smile. “Are you ready to order?”

“Right!” Biana says at the same time as Sophie’s “Yes! For sure! Just give me a second!”. They grin at each other and look back down at the menus. 

“Thank you,” Sophie murmurs after they’ve ordered. Biana doesn’t have to ask what for. 

“Of course.”

(Biana leans down to kiss her barely an hour later. Sophie smiles against her lips and tugs her in closer.)

(Biana doesn’t get back to her hotel that night.)

-/-

December 22, 2020.

Some Fancy Hotel 

Chicago, Illinois. 

Dex can’t sleep. 

There’s no particular reason why, no loud party down the street or flashing lights outside his window. He just can’t sleep, which is especially frustrating when he glances at the clock and finds it’s one AM. Tomorrow- or, today, really- is event four, and if he wants to make a good impression, he’d better do it on more than three hours of sleep.

Heaving a sigh, he flops himself out of bed and flips on the light switch. As long as he’s awake, he might as well read or something. 

A loud crash sounds from down the hall. Dex blinks and grabs his sneakers, opening his door and peeking out. No one’s in sight, but rustling noises are coming from the communal kitchen a few doors away. Dex decides that sleep is for the weak and pads down to investigate.

Fitz Vacker is standing in the middle of the kitchen, aggressively stirring a bowl of what looks like cookie dough and frowning. There’s a flour-dusted cookbook on the counter.

“Um.” Dex coughs a little. Fitz looks up from the cookie dough and turns toward him. He's wearing a sweatshirt thrown over a pair of what looks like Walgreens-brand pajamas. Dex is a little surprised that a Vacker would wear something that shitty. 

“Sorry,” he says in his annoyingly perfect accent. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, you’re fine. Why are you still awake?”

Fitz shrugs. “Couldn’t fall asleep. You?”

“Same.” Dex moves over and peers into the bowl. “Sugar cookies?”

“They’re a classic Christmas cookie, right?” Fitz looks at him. Dex blinks. “No, really, I’m asking. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

This startles a laugh out of Dex. “Yeah, they’re a classic. My aunt used to make them all the time in December. I’d come home from school and she’d be, like, chilling on our couch with three different kinds of cookies.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t even realize she was famous until I was eight. She was just Aunt Eda.”

“My mom used to have to do all these photo shoots? With baked goods and shit? And she’d bring me and Bi along because our daycare didn’t go that late so we’d just be hanging out around this camera equipment and doing our best not to break anything.” Fitz looks down and stirs the cookie dough a bit more. “Bi always says we grew up with a camera in our faces, so much that we never learned to be normal. She’s more right than I’d like to think.”

Dex doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have anything to say; he’s always assumed, like so many other people, that the spotlight on the Vackers was effortless and encouraged. Life seemed so easy for them. 

Of course it does, Dex reminds himself. Life always looks easy when you’re the one looking at it. 

“Sorry,” Fitz grabs the bowl and turns away, reaching up into a cabinet for some powdered sugar. “I get… honest when I’m tired.” 

“Yeah, well, I get grumpy, so you’re still better off.” Dex grabs a baking sheet out of where they’re being stored in the oven, since the cookies look about ready to be rolled out. “You’re fine, though. No cameras here.” 

You’re not being judged here, he means. I’d like to get to know you. 

This must translate at least a little, because Fitz gives him a small smile and dumps the dough out onto the counter. 

“Help me? I think the cookie cutters are in the bottom left drawer.”

“Got it.” Dex grabs a tiny metal snowman and cuts out a piece of dough, laying it flat on the metal sheet. He’s reminded suddenly of going through the same motions back home, with Keefe and Amy arguing good-naturedly over his head. 

There’s a different air in the kitchen right now. It’s quieter, slower, dark-dark-chocolatey; something bitter and sweet and smooth all at the same time. 

“Are you worried about the competition?” He asks. Fitz blinks, lifting another three cookies onto the sheet before answering. 

“I don’t think so. I was, before, but once I got here…” he gives an expansive shrug. “It’s just baking. Baking calms me down.” 

“Hence the cookies at one AM,” Dex notes. Fitz laughs. 

“Hence the stress-baking cookies at one AM,” he agrees. “I don’t even think I was stressed about the contest, just-” he waves a hand in the air. “Just stressed in general.” 

“I get that.” Dex presses a few buttons on the oven and tilts his head toward the table a few feet away. They’ll need to wait for the oven to heat up before they put the cookies in. “I was pretty scared of fucking up at first, but, I mean, it’s a baking competition. Everyone’s gonna forget the butter at some point.” 

Fitz squints at him. “I can’t tell if ‘forget the butter’ is an expression I’m unaware of, or if you actually did that and I just didn’t hear about it.” 

“Maruca from Cali did that, actually. I have more style, at least- I forgot the eggs.”

“My friend’s cat got into my kitchen once,” Fitz says seriously. “Not during this contest, but when I was making her daughter’s birthday cake. There was hair everywhere. It was… a cat-astrophe.”

Both of them are silent for almost a full minute, just staring at each other, before Dex breaks down.

“That was terrible,” he wheezes, trying to stop laughing. Fitz grins. 

“I know, I’m embarrassed of myself.”

“You should be.”

The oven beeps and they both startle, turning toward it. Fitz retrieves an oven mitt and slides the cookies into the oven. Dex closes the door and stands back up, suddenly realizing how close they’re standing. 

“You should try to sleep,” Fitz says quietly. “It’s late.”

Dex nods slightly but doesn’t move. There’s a tiny bit of flour on Fitz’s cheekbone. He doesn’t know why he notices it. 

They seem to stand there forever, just looking at each other. Then, suddenly, Fitz turns away and looks over the cookbook again. 

“I should sleep,” Dex says. Fitz nods, face shadowed in the dim lights. Dex turns away and heads back to his room. 

What the fuck was that. 

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

“Dex Dizznee. Biana Vacker. Maruca Chebota. And Tam Song.” Bronte reads out the names, then looks down at the contestants. “The four of you have won the past events, so you’ll get an extra prize today.”

“As you all know, today is the last event!” Edaline says cheerfully. “All eight of you have made some truly fantastic desserts in the past week, but only one person can win and today’s your final chance to really wow the judges. So, Event Five is…”

Cadence gestures toward the table up front, which holds two candy-covered houses. “Gingerbread houses,” she says. “You have four hours to bake, assemble, and decorate a gingerbread house with your partner.”

“Yep, you’ll be working in pairs for this one,” Edaline says when the murmurs start up. “And our four previous winners get to choose who they’re working with.” She smiles at Biana. “Although, Miss Vacker, I’m afraid you can’t work with your brother.” 

Biana laughs, turning and holding out a hand to Marella Redek instead. “All right. How about it, partner?”

Marella shrugs and takes her hand. Edaline gestures to Dex. 

He glances over the seven remaining contestants. Jensi Babblos seems nice- he probably wouldn’t be too bad to work with. Or maybe he can pair up with another winner and ask Maruca?

Then Fitz catches his eye and Dex remembers the previous day, cutting out cookies in the early-early morning light. It’s not really a choice after that. 

“Fitz,” he decides, and the man strides over to stand next to him. 

The other two pairs find each other, Edaline lays out the final rules, and then she shouts go! and they’re off. 

“Hand me the cinnamon?” Dex asks. Fitz drops it into his hand and Dex dumps a tablespoon in the bowl, starting up the mixer. “Okay, and we should get the icing started so it has time to cool-”

“Already done,” Fitz says. He points to a bowl of fluffy white icing on the counter a foot away. “We should probably-”

“Figure out the decorations, yeah. You wanna-”

“Sketch something?”

They grin at each other and Dex pours the gingerbread batter into a pan. “Perfect,” he says. The oven lets out a tiny beep when he closes it. 

The hours pass quickly, in a blur of candy and icing. They cover the sides of the house in dark red modeling chocolate and drag a toothpick through them for the individual bricks, carefully shape a vanilla wafer chimney, build a candy-cane fence. The actual construction of the house is tricky- Dex has to hold the walls up while Fitz pipes the icing and then keeps holding them until it sets. They get through it with only one roof collapse, though, and the final house looks pretty good. Fitz glues down three peppermints to make a path in front of the door, Dex attaches tiny sugar cookie trees to the ground, and they’re done with two minutes to spare.

“Wait, no. Hang on.” Fitz rummages through the mess they’ve made at their station, skirting a camera and grabbing the half-empty container of powdered sugar. He dumps it into a sieve. 

“Snow,” he and Dex say in unison. Fitz laughs and shakes the sieve over their presentation board, covering the whole thing in a fine layer of powder. 

“Perfect,” Dex says just as the timer goes off. “Let’s win this thing.”

-/-

December 23, 2020.

Netflix’s Test Kitchen

Chicago, Illinois. 

Cameras flash as they zero in on Dex and Fitz’s gingerbread house, presumably taking the shots that will go along with Edaline’s and the winner of Event Five is Fitz Vacker and Dex Dizznee! announcement in the actual show. Biana’s staring at the opposite wall, though; if she looks towards the recording equipment, she doubts she’ll be able to hide how nervous she is. 

The competition doesn’t matter in the long run, but it would be really, really cool to win. 

“Now,” Edaline says after the cameras have returned to their original places. “You’ve all shown amazing talent in the past few days. Frankly, all three of us were just blown away at some of the things you created. But one of you managed to wow us at every turn, showcasing your art as well as your baking skills. And that person is…”

Next to Biana, her brother stares at the ground. A few feet away, Dex is twisting his hands together, expression schooled into something just left of panic. Biana takes a deep breath.

“Maruca Chebota!”

The room is silent, and then everyone breaks into applause. Maruca is smiling wide, tears glittering at the corners of her eyes. 

“Thank you so much,” she manages before getting crushed into a giant group hug. 

Later, Biana stands in the front hall of the hotel with her suitcase by her side. She and Fitz are flying home tonight, and she can’t wait to get back to her own apartment. 

“It’ll be nice,” Sophie agrees. “I’m heading straight out to Michigan to see my aunt and uncle for Christmas.” 

Fitz appears in the doorway, talking animatedly with someone out of sight. Biana takes the opportunity to give Sophie one last kiss. 

“I’ll text you?” She asks. Sophie nods. 

Fitz strolls up, Dex by his side. They’ve finished their conversation, apparently, and are now just looking at each other. Biana coughs.

“We should get to the airport.” She reminds him. Fitz jumps.

“Right! Yes, of course. Um-” he glances back at Dex and then sweeps the shorter man into a hug. Dex’s eyes widen but he hugs back. 

“It was so nice to meet you,” Biana tells Dex when the two break apart. “Have a nice Christmas.” 

“You too,” Dex says, and then he and Sophie are gone. Biana elbows her brother. 

“Dexter Dizznee, huh?” She asks. Fitz glares at her. 

“Shut up.”

-/-

December 28, 2020.

Dizznee Family Household 

Detroit, Michigan.

Christmas is low-key. Or, it’s as low-key as Christmas with the Dizznees can be, anyway. Bex manages to get lights on the roof, Rex brings his partners to dinner and the three of them break into an impromptu performance of Deck The Halls, and Lex sets up an elaborate present-wrapping station in the living room that seems to involve heinous amounts of tape. 

Edaline disappears upstairs a few times to work out all the details of the show, but she has enough time to help Kesler baste a turkey and kick all of their collective asses at foosball alongside Juline. Grady makes chocolate-covered cherries and Amy eats too many of them and Sophie laughs herself to tears when her sister trips over an armchair in her post-chocolate haze. They smile and exchange terrible presents and sing carols and it’s all normal, as normal as anything gets these days.

So maybe they’re not low-key. Maybe it’s just Dex who’s low, Dex who still feels like something’s missing. 

He lost the competition. He’s not mad about it; losing by a few stray points isn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. And the publicity he’ll gain from just being on television is definitely worth it. 

None of that explains his mood, though, and Dex is starting to wonder what on earth he isn’t seeing. 

“Hey,” Sophie says, wandering into the den and flopping down on the couch alongside him. Dex has been absentmindedly fiddling with a Rubik's cube for the past ten minutes, and he only now realizes it’s solved. “What’s up?” 

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been mopey all day,” she says. “All week, actually. Which is weird, because you’re not normally mopey.” 

“You- noticed?”

Sophie gives him an affronted look. “I do pay attention.” 

“I’m not mopey,” Dex protests. 

“So staring into the distance and frowning is just a hobby?” Sophie sighs, plucking the Rubik’s cube out of his hands and scooting closer. “Look, I’m not trying to shame you. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Dex stares at her, then glances down at his hands. “I… who do you keep texting?”

The question catches Sophie off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been glancing down at your phone and smiling all through vacation,” he says. “Who are you texting?”

Sophie’s cheeks flush pink. “Um. Biana?”

“Oh.” Right. Biana Vacker. Dex had almost forgotten about her, in all the chaos of the last day of competition and then heading back home. Sophie didn’t, apparently. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“You sound like a greeting card.”

“Fuck you, I’m trying.” 

Sophie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Thanks, though. I really like her.” She tilts her head. “Now, back to your moping.”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Sophie says. She fixes him with a look that says I can see into your soul and there is some weird stuff in there. “Dex. What happened when you teamed up with Fitz Vacker in the last round of the contest?”

“Um.” Dex blinks. “We… made a gingerbread house?”

“And after that?” Sophie raises an eyebrow. “Dex, I know you. You’ve hated the Vackers possibly since you were born. How on Earth did you go from that to hugging Fitz when you said goodbye to him?”

“I-” 

There have been a lot of things recently, Dex reflects, that he’s been unable to explain, even to himself. Why he disliked the Vackers in the first place. Why he’s been empty the past few days. 

Why he and Fitz are sort of on decent terms now.

But things start to dig themselves out of his memory; an out-of-the-blue compliment about his pies, a night spent in a terrible hotel kitchen unable to sleep, a grin and a tiny peppermint swirl and fake sugar snow on a rooftop.

“Oh.” Dex’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit.” 

“What?” Sophie asks. As if on cue, three strawberry-blond heads poke into the doorway. Dex groans. 

“Do you hear that?” Rex asks, shit-eating grin on his face. Lex nods seriously. 

“I believe it’s the sound of a local man realizing he’s been in love with Fitzroy Vacker this whole time.” 

Bex gestures towards Dex as if she’s holding a microphone. “Tell me, sir, how does it feel to come to such a conclusion? Do you think your behavior towards Mr. Vacker will change after this?”

“Please leave,” Dex says flatly. Sophie squints at him. 

“Wait, are you really-”

“I don’t know. Please make them leave.” 

Sophie looks from him to the triplets, who give her matching smiles. She shakes her head and stands up. 

“I don’t think I’m capable of doing that, honestly. I’m going to go text Bi.”

“Traitor!” Dex calls after her. The triplets flop down on the couch, garishly patterned Christmas sweaters clashing terribly with the blue cushions. Bex gives him an exaggerated I’m thinking look. 

“Hmm,” she says. “You know, maybe Amy was onto something with all her ‘enemies to lovers speedrun’ stuff.” 

“I’m leaving this family,” Dex mutters, shoving a pillow over his face. “I will go to Canada and buy a large house and never have to see any of you ever again.” 

Rex raises his eyebrows. “Wow, you’d leave your boyfriend behind like that?” 

“Nope! No, nope, not doing this.” Dex stands up and moves towards the door. Behind him, he hears at least one of his siblings fall off the couch. 

“Seriously, though. What are you going to do?”

Dex turns back around. Rex and Bex are sprawled on the floor in a tangle of feet, but Lex is looking at Dex with a strangely sympathetic expression. He sighs.

“I don’t know.”

There’s a buzz in his pocket and Dex pulls his phone out as his siblings start to untangle themselves.

Fos-Boss

hey. wanna go to nyc?

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Biana Vacker’s Self-Proclaimed Trash Can Fire

New York City, New York.

“You’re doing it again.”

Fitz leans his head over the back of the couch and frowns at her. “Doing what?”

“Your whole woe is me, time to stare aimlessly at the wall thing.” Biana waves a hand towards her brother. “Stop that and help me cut the baklava.”

“This is… a lot of baklava for just the two of us,” Fitz says. “Are you sure you didn’t decide to throw another giant stupid New Years party again?”

“I promise there will be no giant New Years party,” Biana says. “I’ve invited two people over. That’s it.”

“But you refuse to tell me who those people are, which automatically makes me suspicious.” 

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. Biana smiles at her brother and takes the knife from him. 

“Why don’t you go find out?”

Fitz sighs and moves out into the hallway. Biana hears him swing the door open, and then- nothing. 

She pushes the now-cut baklava onto a plate and leans her head out the doorway. Her brother is standing there, staring at a man with strawberry-blond hair. Sophie stands behind him, smiling awkwardly.

“Hello!” She says, directing the statement at Biana since her cousin is still locked in a staring contest with Fitz. “Happy New Year!”

“It’s not New Years yet,” Biana laughs, coming out of the doorway to grab Sophie’s coat and drop a quick kiss to her lips. “How was your drive?”

“Long,” Sophie says. “But I’ve had worse. And we had some decent pancakes, right?” 

“Right,” Dex murmurs, still staring at Fitz. He shakes his head. “Yeah, they were pretty good. Happy New Year, by the way.” 

“You too,” Fitz manages. Biana hides a laugh behind her sweater sleeve and grabs Dex’s arm. 

“Hey, you wanna come help me open the champagne?” 

“Sure, but-”

“We’ll be fine,” Fitz manages a bright grin. “I’m gonna show Sophie some of Bi’s elementary school pictures.”

“Fitzroy Avery Vacker, don’t you dare-”

Fitz laughs and Biana and Dex retreat back to the kitchen. Biana reaches for one of the bottles of champagne and turns towards the shorter man. 

“I’m not going to give you a shovel talk,” she shrugs, “mainly because I think you already know I could murder you if you hurt him.”

“Yep,” Dex nods. He looks down. “But you don’t have to worry about giving me a shovel talk. It’s not like we’re dating.” 

“No, you two have just been in love with each other for a ridiculously long amount of time.” The cork pops out of the champagne bottle and Sophie cheers from the other room. Biana grins at the stunned expression Dex is giving her. “Come on. Only an hour till midnight.”

They put the Times Square Ball Drop on at 11:30, watching as some band Biana vaguely recognizes but couldn’t name rocks out in front of the crowd. Sophie says that looks cold, and Biana says it’s always cold. That’s why I stay home, and Sophie snuggles a little closer to her. At the ten-minute mark, Dex and Fitz make some sort of telepathic agreement to go out and stand on the balcony. 

“Hey,” Biana mutters as the lights onscreen get brighter. The countdown should start soon. “I’m so glad I met you.”

Sophie turns her face, so close their noses almost brush. “Me too,” she smiles. “But I’m even happier I get to do this.”

A hurricane could probably pass through the apartment right now without Biana noticing. Sophie's lips are soft, and Biana knows this woman will stick with her no matter what. 

Numbers start to flash on the screen. Biana couldn’t care less about what they say. 

-/-

December 31, 2020.

Fitz Vacker’s Plant-Covered Balcony

New York City, New York.

“The apartment’s Biana’s, technically,” Fitz says as they step out into the cold night air. “But she never uses the balcony and I needed a place to put my plants, so it’s mine now.”

“And you’re certainly using the space,” Dex notes. He can spot at least five different kinds of flowers out here, and that’s just with his non-existent plant knowledge. 

Fitz laughs, loud and bright against the painted backdrop of the sky. There are only a few stars Dex can see, but the whole sky is a shade of midnight blue that makes up for the darkness. 

“I am, yeah.” He leans on the railing for a moment, staring down at the world below, before turning back a bit. “How was your Christmas?”

“Good,” Dex says. “How was your… Hanukkah?”

“It ended before the contest started, but yeah, it was good” Fitz glances down at the street again and Dex goes to stand next to him. Minutes tick by, the two of them just watching cars pass by.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Fitz says finally. The words are soft, barely more than whispers, and Dex thinks for a moment that he imagined them. Then Fitz looks up and meets his eyes. 

A cheer goes up from around the city, people everywhere shouting Ten! 

“I’m glad too,” Dex says. Carefully, oh-so-slowly, he reaches up and cups the other man’s cheek. Fitz’s eyes flutter closed for just a moment. 

Seven!

“The ball will drop soon,” he murmurs. “If you want to watch it.”

“I’m fine,” Dex smiles. “Unless- you want to?”

Five!

“Nah,” Fitz says, reaching up to touch Dex’s hand where it’s still on his face. “I think I can do without the spectacle for tonight.”

Three!

Dex nods, rocking forward just a little. 

Two!

Fitz’s eyes are bright, and his breath is warm where it ghosts across Dex’s skin. 

One!

They barely have to move in before their lips meet. 

-/-

January 1, 2021.

Somewhere Over New York City. 

Fireworks bloom into bursts of color against the dark sky. 

#lynn rambles #my writing #kotlc #detz #sophiana #fitz vacker #biana vacker #sophie foster #dex dizznee #edaline ruewen

[zmediaoutlet]

my year of fic (2020)

I had a lapse in doing this, because the end of 2019 was just---a haze---but I thought it might be fun to try again on this, my first day off of 2021. Ignoring for a moment the armed sedition and the pandemic and the general feeling like the world’s about to spin upside down, I think it might be a good day. Let me try to feel some joy in writing, so that I might do some more writing this weekend. There’s a chance!

Per the AO3 stats tracker:

Total words written in 2020: 278,664 (Compared to 2019: 201,375 -- definite improvement!) That brings the overall AO3 published total to: 1,160,723. Jesus. I need another hobby, haha.

I’ll try to collect a year masterlist below, but let’s see what happened with stats first.

fic with most hits, which is not the same thing as best: no disguising truths i’ve sold -- y’all are fiends for the dadsex, just admit it. It always gives me a giggle how many hits these ones have with so few people actually interacting. :)

fic with most kudos, which I guess means people admitted they liked it: there will be better days -- which I guess isn’t a surprise, written when it was, but it’s still super gratifying to see that people enjoyed it. This one takes top spot for most of the other categories, too, so I’m going to go for the 2nd-placers on the next few...

fic with (2nd-)most comment threads, which I guess means people wanted to chat about it: In a Cursed Hour, which is a pleasant surprise! This is the very long gen (with sneaky pining!Dean), the first part of which was technically finished this year. I hope I come back to it at some point, because the story is... great, haha. Just super hard to write. Gratifying that people wanted to talk about it!

fic with (2nd-)most bookmarks, which I guess means people want to read it again: see things so much clearer -- aw, now that’s a nice surprise! This kinda felt like channeling old-school weecest, in some ways, so it’s cool that people seem to have enjoyed it.

fic with (2nd)-most subscriptions, which I guess means people are hoping for more: welcome to capitalism -- another nice surprise! I almost forgot about this one: a little ruthless, a little kind. Logical choices in a world that sucks, kind of my favorite genre, haha.

longest fic: what comes after certainty -- ow, ow. This is a---strange one---started in 2019 before the haze, published finally in a bit of ignominy, still not read by the recipient I’m pretty sure because it’s fucking depressing, haha. But I’m kinda proud of it, or at least proud of myself for finishing it, so I guess it’s good that I spent this many words on it.

least popular fic, if we’re going by kudos: transference -- lol, that makes sense -- Umbrella Academy momcest? That said tho, it’s kinda fun and you should read it. Diego’s just the biggest mommy’s boy. Ahem.

The best thing writing-wise about this year was stretching into stuff I wouldn’t normally write, thanks to the charity drives. Maybe I’ll try to do that again this year; I’m sure something horrific will happen that will need some monetary support.

In the meantime, here are all of the fics I wrote this year, in order that they were written. Probably Sam/Dean unless otherwise specified. Imagine retrospective montage music:

January

none. no surprise here.

February

the hollow summer - E. Boy King Sam, AU.

March

‘he has a kiss stuck in his mouth’ - M. Pining!Dean, Stanford era.

no disguising truths i’ve sold - E. John/Deanna, pre-series.

“I almost died” - T. Jared/Jensen, firefighter!Jared fluff.

‘sam waking dean up with his mouth’ - E, somnophilia, married!sex.

relay - E, D/s play.

April

extreme pollen warning - E, sex pollen, established relationship.

whatever we were before - E, Dragon Age AU, mage!Sam/warrior!Dean.

‘cokehead!Alex’ - T. Alex/JDM; part one.

pragmatics - E. Established wincest, past Dean/others. Prostitution.

May

teamwork (makes the dream work) - Alex/Jared/Jensen. cokehead!verse pt 2.

to dream of the next - E. First time, pining!Sam.

In a Cursed Hour: Protesting Fate Supreme - T. Men of Letters AU, ch.6.

June

FFFB 1 - M. Gabriel/Rowena, meeting through the years.

FFFB 2 - E. A/B/O, first time.

FFFB 3 - E. Jensen/Jeff, voyeur!Jared, Non-AU.

FFFB 4 - M. Cloud/Sephiroth, mindfuck.

FFFB 5 - M. Amos/Alex, pantykink.

FFFB 6 - E. Dubcon shading to noncon, pining!Dean.

FFFB 7 - M. Hannibal/Will, first kiss.

FFFB 8 - E. Post-Michael possession, piercings, body mods.

FFFB 9 - M. Tony Stark/Stephen Strange, AU.

FFFB 10 - M. Dean/Bobby, Stanford era.

FFFB 11 - E. Mommy!kink, bunker era.

FFFB 12 - M. Gen, Sam’s wall, mild self-harm.

FFFB 13 - M. Sam Wilson & Bucky Barnes, racial discussion.

FFFB 14 - M. s2, Sam’s cast.

FFFB 15 - E. Jared/Jensen, established relationship, CBT.

FFFB 16 - E. weecest, first time.

FFFB 17 - M. Sam/Dean/Jack.

FFFB 18 - M. Amnesia.

FFFB 19 - E. BDSM, sub!Dean, dildos.

FFFB 20 - E. A/B/O, demon!Dean, noncon.

FFFB 21 - T. Established relationship, Stanford discussion.

FFFB 22 - E. Dubcon, time travel, soulless!Sam/young!Dean, prostitution.

FFFB 23 - M. Implied Dean/John, jealous!Sam.

FFFB 24 - E. ‘The End’!verse, Lucifer!Sam/Dean, noncon.

FFFB 25 - E. Tentacles, body horror, oviposition.

FFFB 26 - E. Belly bulge!kink.

July

none. apparently I needed a break.

August

have a cigar - E. Sam’s powers, slight D/s.

welcome to capitalism - E. Jared/Jensen, prostitution.

September

the wealth gap - E. ‘capitalism’ pt 2; Jared/Jensen, prostitution.

what comes after certainty - M. Mutual pining, amnesia.

reunion theory - E. Cloud/Sephiroth, Cloud/Hojo. Body horror, torture, mpreg. Fic for fire relief 1.

the honeytrap - E. Jared/Jensen, mob!AU. FFFR 2.

scotch courage - M. Sam/Kevin, hair play. FFFR 3.

he will tear your city down - E. Damen/Laurent, slight D/s. FFFR 4.

cyrano - E. Jensen/Antony Starr, established J2. D/s, consensual infidelity. FFFR 5.

two runners on base - E. Dean/Deacon, established relationship, BDSM, DP. FFFR 6.

what’s to stop me, pretty baby - E. Noncon, MoC!Dean. FFFR 7.

the need to choose - E. A/B/O, pregnant!Dean. FFFR 8.

transference - E. Diego Hargreeves/Grace, mommy kink. FFFR 9.

vertex - E. John/Dean, Stanford era, pining!Dean. FFFR 10.

faith without works is dead - M. Sam’s powers, violence, dubcon. FFFR 11.

be subject to each other - E. Photography, facial. FFFR 12.

October

you know i’m gonna be like him - M. Past Dean/John, child abuse. FFFR 13.

unbalance - E. A/B/O, Jared/Jensen, prostitute!Jared. FFFR 14.

buccaneer - E. Crowley/Deanna, demon!Dean, always-a-girl!Dean. FFFR 15.

make much of time - E. Sam/Dean/Jack, virginity kink. FFFR 16.

see things so much clearer - E. Pre-series, first time, diaries. FFFR 17.

won’t let you let me down so easily - E. Sam/Brady, Sam/others, Stanford era, mind control, gangbang, noncon. FFFR 18.

the beams of our house are cedar - E. Bunker era, panties, feminization. FFFR 19.

November

negotiation tactics - E. Homelander/Soldier Boy, D/s, superpower sex.

finale coda - M. Heaven.

15.19 coda - T. Jack as god.

there will be better days - E. Heaven, first time.

December

a leaden anchor - E. Post-Playthings.

That’s it. I haven’t had a single writing thought in my head since that last one. Here’s hoping it comes back in 2021!

#my writing #my year of fic #2020 masterlist

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

July 25, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

Both Democratic Senator Mark Warner of Virginia and Republican Senator Rob Portman of Ohio told television hosts today that they expect an infrastructure deal on the $579 billion bill this week. Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-NY) has said that he will delay the Senate’s upcoming recess until this bipartisan bill and another, larger bill that focuses on human infrastructure are passed. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-CA) says she will not hold a vote on the smaller infrastructure bill until the larger bill, which is a priority for Democrats, passes the Senate.

There are a lot of moving pieces in this infrastructure bill that have more to do with politics than with infrastructure.

First, what is holding up the bill in the Senate is a disagreement about the proper ratio of funding for roads and public transportation. When Congress passed the Federal-Aid Highway Act in 1956, starting the creation of 41,000 miles of interstate highways, lawmakers thought that gasoline taxes would pay for the construction and upkeep of the highways. Congress raised the gas tax four times, in 1959, 1983, 1990, and 1993. But, beginning in 2008, as fuel efficiency went up, the gas tax no longer covered expenses. Congress made up shortfalls with money from general funds.

In 1983, in order to gain support for an increase of $.05 in the gas tax from lawmakers from the Northeast who wanted money for mass transit, Congress agreed to establish a separate fund for public transportation that would get one out of every five cents collected from the gas tax. This 80% to 20% ratio has lasted ever since.

Now, Republican negotiators are demanding less money for public transportation and more for roads, sparking outrage from Democrats who note that a bipartisan agreement has stood for almost 40 years and that changing the ratio between public transportation and roads will move us backward. According to the Environmental Protection Agency, in 2019, fossil fuels used in transportation produced 29% of U.S. greenhouse gases.

Portman, the lead Republican negotiator, says that Republicans have made a “generous offer” and that it will provide a “significant increase” in transit money. "Democrats, frankly, are not being reasonable in their requests right now,” he said.

Republicans want to deliver money to rural areas where people depend on driving, even though there are far more people who live in areas that benefit from public transportation. Rural areas, of course, are far more likely than urban areas to be full of Republican voters.

Democrats in the House are eager to address climate change. On July 21, Chair of the House Committee on Transportation and Infrastructure Peter DeFazio (D-OR) and 30 Democratic members of the committee wrote to Pelosi and Schumer to urge them to include instead the terms of the INVEST in America Act the House passed on a bipartisan basis earlier this month. That bill offered a forward-looking transportation package that expanded public transportation even as it called for road and bridge repair. “We can’t afford to lock in failed highway-centric policies for another five years,” they wrote.

But there is a larger story behind this transportation bill than the attempt of Republicans to change a longstanding formula to keep themselves in power. Republicans who are not openly tying themselves to the former president want to pass this measure because they know it is popular and they do not want Democrats to pass another popular law alone, as they did with the American Rescue Plan when Republicans refused to participate.

Democratic leadership wants to work with those Republicans to pass a bipartisan bill because it will help to drive a wedge though the Republican Party, offering an exit ramp for those who would like to leave behind the increasing extremism of the Trump Republicans.

Trump Republicans are, indeed, becoming more extreme as the House’s select committee on January 6 takes shape. After the Senate rejected a bipartisan commission to investigate the insurrection, House Speaker Pelosi and the House voted to establish a select committee. Its structure was based on one of the many committees established by the Republican-controlled House to investigate the attack on U.S. government facilities in Benghazi, Libya, in 2012. It permitted the minority to name 5 members, to be approved by the Speaker.

Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) tried to undercut the committee by appointing three members who had challenged the counting of the certified votes on January 6, including Jim Jordan (R-OH), who was at a December meeting with Trump and other lawmakers when they discussed protesting the vote count on January 6, and Jim Banks (R-IN), who attacked the committee, saying: “Make no mistake, Nancy Pelosi created this committee solely to malign conservatives and to justify the Left’s authoritarian agenda.” When Pelosi rejected Jordan and Banks, McCarthy pulled all five of his appointees.

But Pelosi had already established the committee’s bipartisanship when she appointed Representative Liz Cheney (R-WY), a staunch Republican who voted with Trump more than 90% of the time but who openly blamed him for the January 6 insurrection. Today, Pelosi added Adam Kinzinger (R-IL) to the committee as well.

Kinzinger is an Iraq War veteran who was one of the 10 House Republicans who voted to impeach Trump in January. "Let me be clear, I'm a Republican dedicated to conservative values, but I swore an oath to uphold and defend the Constitution—and while this is not the position I expected to be in or sought out, when duty calls, I will always answer," Kinzinger said in a statement.

McCarthy promptly tweeted that the committee had no credibility because Pelosi had “structured the select committee to satisfy her political objectives.”

McCarthy is scrambling, not least because he will almost certainly become a witness for the committee.

But there is more. With Trump out of office, pressure is ramping up on those who advanced his agenda. News broke on Thursday that the FBI had received more than 4500 tips about Brett Kavanaugh during his nomination proceeding for confirmation to the Supreme Court, and had forwarded the most “relevant” of those to the White House lawyers, who buried them, enabling the extremist Kavanaugh to squeak into a lifetime appointment to the court.

In Georgia, law enforcement officers indicted 87 people in what they are calling the largest gang bust ever in the state. Seventy-seven are part of the “Ghostface Gangsters” gang of white supremacists whose network stretched from Georgia to South Carolina to Tennessee. “The gang’s culture, structure, leadership, chain of command, and all involved in the furtherance of this ongoing criminal enterprise have been charged,” law enforcement officers said.

Meanwhile, vaccinated Americans are becoming increasingly angry at the unvaccinated Trump supporters who are keeping the nation from achieving herd immunity from the coronavirus. Some Republicans are starting to call for their supporters to get vaccinated.

As pressure mounts, McCarthy is not the only one who has signed onto the post–January 6 Trump party who is ramping up his rhetoric. This weekend, when presented with a gun, Trump’s disgraced former National Security Adviser Michael Flynn told the crowd, “Maybe I’ll find somebody in Washington, D.C.”

Representative Paul Gosar (R-AZ), who has been linked to the planning for the January 6 insurrection, suggested at an Arizona rally for the former president last night that the rioters were peaceful and that the real criminals were “insiders from the FBI and DOJ.” It seems likely he is hoping to discredit those organizations before more information comes out.

At the same rally, the former president spoke for almost two hours, reiterating his lie that he won the 2020 election and suggesting he would be reinstated into the White House before the next election. (He was weirdly fixated on routers.) He blamed Arizona Governor Doug Ducey, Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell, former Vice President Mike Pence, and Kavanaugh for his loss of the White House, and praised his former lawyer Rudy Giuliani.

“The radical left Democrat communist party rigged and stole the election,” he said.

A final note tonight: We lost a great American, Bob Moses, today. I don’t want to tack him on to tonight’s letter; he deserves his own. So hold this space. Until then, Rest in Power, Dr. Moses.

—-

Notes:

https://fas.org/sgp/crs/misc/R45350.pdf

https://www.epa.gov/ghgemissions/sources-greenhouse-gas-emissions

https://transportation.house.gov/news/press-releases/chair-defazio-leads-30-transportation-and-infrastructure-committee-members-in-urging-congressional-leadership-to-include-transformational-policies-from-the-invest-in-america-act-in-infrastructure-legislation

https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/congress/transit-money-emerges-last-major-obstacle-bipartisan-senate-infrastructure-deal-n1274788

https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/congress/senators-hopeful-bipartisan-infrastructure-spending-bill-could-land-monday-n1274960

https://www.npr.org/2021/07/25/1020464213/nancy-pelosi-adam-kinzinger-january-6-committee

Ron Filipkowski @RonFilipkowskiMichael Flynn is presented with a rifle as a gift in Yuba, CA, and says that now “maybe I’ll find somebody in Washington, DC.”  609 Retweets1,212 Likes

July 25th 2021

https://www.washingtonpost.com/nation/2021/01/13/ali-alexander-capitol-biggs-gosar/

Aaron Rupar @atruparRep. Paul Gosar turns reality on its head by portraying January 6 as a mostly peaceful affair, then pushes an absurd conspiracy theory that the real criminals on that day were "insiders from the FBI and DOJ" 1,182 Retweets4,650 Likes

July 24th 2021

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/07/22/us/politics/kavanaugh-fbi-investigation.html

https://www.wrdw.com/2021/07/22/georgia-gov-kemp-will-visit-augusta-discuss-large-scale-gang-bust/

https://www.politico.com/news/2021/07/24/trump-election-claims-rally-500719

https://www.wrdw.com/2021/07/23/87-locals-charged-biggest-gang-bust-state-history/

Aaron Rupar @atruparTrump has been speaking for more than 90 minutes now. He's currently goading his audience into booing the US women's soccer team. 735 Retweets3,061 Likes

July 25th 2021

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#political #Heather Cox Richardson #Letters From An American #history #infrastructure #corrupt Gop #criminal GOP #January 6 2021 #capital insurrection

[excelsi-or]

12/12/22 - read to me (woozi)

w.c. 1k (fluff :D)

A/N: Happy Monday~ Hope you guys had a great weekend! My BIPOC rec this week is LA 92, a documentary by NatGeo about LA’s riots after Rodney King’s case. It’s a really cool documentary by using news reports and reporter footage from that time, so it feels really raw. Disclaimer: there are parts that are very graphic, especially during the start of the riots. Please be prepared if you watch. I’d only ever heard his name before, I didn’t know the whole story about Rodney King. LA 92 lays it out plain and simple.

November 4, 2022

December 12, 2022

His blaring alarm wakes them first.

“Nngh,” she groans, rolling over towards Jihoon to fling her arm across his body.

He grumbles as he stretches for his phone.

“Jihoonie, turn it off,” she mumbles.

“I’m trying.”

Finally, they’re left in silence again.

One beat.

Two beats.

She sighs and starts to sit up. “Jihoon, you need to get to work.”

Jihoon throws his arm over his eyes and ignores her.

“God, every morning,” she grumbles as she gets up. She drags the comforter off him and wraps it around her shoulders, ignoring his protests and cursing. When she goes to turn on the overhead light, nothing happens. She flicks the light on and off and still nothing.

“Jihoon.”

“Shush.” Jihoon has proceeded to curl into a ball on his side, facing away from her.

“Jihoon, the light won’t turn on.” She leaves the bedroom and wanders through their still dark apartment, testing every light switch. None of them work.

When she checks the light in the fridge, Jihoon finally decides to show himself. His hair is sticking up on one side, the other matted from sleep. One eye is cracked open while he scratches his neck.

“What’s happening?”

“Power’s out,” she informs him. She knocks her hip into the corner of the counter and she grumbles angrily back to the bedroom.

Jihoon trails after her. She checks her phone for messages and finds none. Quickly, she texts Hansol and Jeonghan to ask if they have power. The replies are fast and Jihoon reads them over her shoulder.

Jeonghan (6:07)

Nope. Seungcheol’s losing his mind.

Hansol (6:07)

No. Seungkwan’s not even awake to lecture me about not paying bills yet.

“Seems like no one has power,” Jihoon comments.

“It could just be residential areas,” she says. “We should probably still get ready for work.”

Jihoon pecks the top of her head and agrees.

They use their phones as light in the bathroom. Jihoon jumps in the shower, although his shower only seems to last a minute. When he joins her in the kitchen, he’s bundled in a turtleneck, a hoodie, and a hat.

“That cold, huh?” she asks.

“You should bundle up,” Jihoon tells her.

She nods her head and pushes a bowl of cereal to him. Jihoon jumps on the counter to eat it and she leans back against the fridge. They eat in silence. In the early hour, the sun hasn’t even begun to rise.

Jihoon’s phone buzzes against the counter, just as they hear a ping from the bedroom.

“Creepy,” she comments as she goes to the bedroom to get her phone.

“Probably just Ming—” Before he can finish the name, he’s read through the message from the company’s CEO. “Work’s cancelled,” he states.

She’s returned, bowl and phone in hand. Chuckling, she shows him her message. “Me too.”

Jihoon lifts an eyebrow. He drinks his milk and sets the bowl in the sink. “As two free people for the day, what do you propose we do?”

“We don’t have Internet, no TV.” She looks around their dark apartment, a dim yellow light on the horizon out the window. “Read?”

Jihoon pouts. “Reading?”

“I’ll read to you,” she says instead. “How about that?”

“We could sleep first.”

“You know how I feel about falling back asleep.” She holds her empty bowl up. “Especially since we’ve just had breakfast.”

He tips his head as he slips the bowl from her hand. “We could just get back in bed and pretend like the day hasn’t even started yet.”

“We’ll nap later,” she laughs.

Jihoon throws his head back and whines. “Jagi.”

“How about this?” She stands between his legs and pulls his hat off his head. She ruffles his hair that he didn’t get a chance to wash in the cold water. “We grab all the blankets, bundle up on the couch, and I read to you. You can fall asleep.”

“And you stay awake?” Jihoon massages her shoulders, hoping it’ll make her sleepy enough to want to get back into bed.

“It’ll be like all those nights during uni in your studio. Except you’ll be sleeping instead of me.”

Jihoon sighs, his hands moving from her shoulders to her cheeks. “Fine, jagi.”

“One more chapter,” Jihoon insists.

They’ve spent the entire morning on the couch, Jihoon’s head in her lap, surrounded by every blanket and throw in their apartment. It’s turned into a beautiful morning with the sun streaming through the window. Without heating, the sun is a godsend. 

From her selection of books, she figured an adventure would be the most entertaining to him. She’d chosen the third one in a series, which seemed to be most people’s favourite.

She’d banked on Jihoon falling asleep after the first fifteen minutes of her reading. With the still relatively dark apartment, it would be easy for him. When she’d gone on to read in her head, Jihoon mumbled, “Why did you stop?”

The longer she’d read, Jihoon seemed to wake up further. He watched her read, enjoying her facial expressions and the voices she used. It felt like being a child, having someone read to him.

Five hours later, her throat is about to give out and they’re about halfway through the book.

“Jagi, please,” he pleads.

She motions for him to pass her her water bottle, which she’d had to ask him to get after the first two chapters. Jihoon complies and watches her take another sip. “Jihoon,” her voice comes out a bit clearer, “I can’t read the entire book in one sitting.”

“Why not? I like listening to you read.” Jihoon pouts.

When they’d moved in together, she hadn’t expected adorable Jihoon to follow them. He busts it out whenever he wants something from her. And usually she can’t say no. “Jihoon, I’m going to lose my voice.”

Jihoon pouts further.

She leans down to kiss his forehead. “Stop. Seriously. I can’t.”

“What if I make you a sandwich and you keep reading after lunch?” Jihoon suggests.

She rolls her eyes with a smile. “Fine. Go.”

Jihoon gets up out of her lap and makes sure to wrap her up again to keep her warm. Over his shoulder, he says, “We should have started from the first book. Starting from the third makes me feel like I missed stuff.”

“Alright, one story at a time, Jihoonie” she chuckles.

Next: December 27, 2022

#woozi imagines #woozi scenarios #woozi #lee jihoon scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen #svt #tabilrn

[norbaum]

                                     but when you 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵 the light i 𝑅𝐸𝒜𝐿𝐼𝒵𝐸...

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆:

✧ ( jack gilinsky + 21 + cis male + he/him ) — did you see 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐘 ‘𝐍𝐎𝐑’ 𝐁𝐀𝐔𝐌 walking down 3rd ? rumor has it they are a 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑 @ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 & 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 and have lived in 𝟐𝟐𝟑 e 66th st 𝐀𝐏𝐓 𝟒𝟎𝟏 for 𝐀 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅. i’d describe them as ( 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙-𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙙 ) but ( 𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 ), and when they pass by i’m always reminded of 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊, 𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍, & 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝟏𝟎 𝐃𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑. ( ollie, 22, they/them, est )

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒:

         one half ( the younger ) of the baum twins — the self-proclaimed christmas tree twins but really, it’s their parents’ fault ; works the first shift at the sunrise baking the bulk of goods for the day && has a love for baking in general ; a senior at NYU studying an individualized track of architecture ; a kind soul who genuinely means well even if he misses the point a bit ( read : a himbo ).

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘:

— norway baum was born in a buffalo, new york hospital two minutes and forty-three seconds after his sister fir baum, and unlike his sister, did not scream upon his arrival into the world. it snowed on that december night, CHRISTMAS EVE, an irrelevant fact considering the baums, jewish in heritage, did not celebrate. their parents knew quite in advance that their family would be increasing by two, so it’s anyone’s guess why instead of picking nice normal names for their children they settled on ( as the twins would realize as they got older ) two versions of what amounted to christmas tree.

— nor supposes he ought to be thankful they didn’t name him spruce, because at least norway ( despite also being a country ) could be shortened to a mildly acceptable nickname. instead they graciously made that his middle name leaving every time he gets carded to be an adventure in dubious looks as someone read “norway spruce baum” across the shiny plastic.

— the twins’ entrance into the world would remain a blueprint for most of their lives, fir — the feral child, nor — the calmer but dumber one ; though unlike predicted, they did not balance each other out ( at least in the sense that their parents hoped ). instead it was excruciatingly obvious from the moment they were capable of semi-complex thought that they would be absolute hellions together.

— they grew as thick as thieves as they got older, outgrowing the hellion age soon enough, but only to enter the scheming menaces phase that some may argue they still haven’t left. there were times they had their differences, sure, but in the end they never amounted more to a ripple in the ocean, quickly forgiven and on to the next grand thing.

— they were raised very comfortably in a large house some might consider a mansion ( a modest one at that ), having been privileged enough to be born into the lower upper class. the baums were a rather practical family all the same, in spite of the big house and healthy number of zeros in their bank account, raising their children to be humble, polite, and hardworking : for the most part succeeding ( hardworking might be a matter of perspective ).

— for high school, they attended the local prestigious private co-ed school, nichols ; nor apparently not quite as dumb as everyone seemed to think considering his passing of the entrance exams and decent grades to back that up. nor graduated from nichols ranked surprisingly well, thanks to apparent natural abilities in math and physics.

— college was a toss up, but the choice quickly become a no-brainer when fir was also accepted into NYU. move-in day was a flurry of excitement, most notably the first time the twins would be living ( somewhat ) apart in different dorms thanks to random housing placement and a no co-ed room policy. that excitement lasted about six days for nor, when he became frustrated with the fact that his new roommate, though by almost all accounts PLEASANT, could not seemingly read his mind.

— several other factors, one of which was definitely not separation anxiety, lead them to room together with a few of their mutual friends their sophomore year, and then seek an apartment together the summer before their junior year.

— the 66th st hadn’t really been somewhere nor had frequented, though the neighborhood was known to be affordable and good for students seeking reasonably priced apartments. besides, the apartments were nice, not such a bad commute from school, and they both needed jobs if they wanted to continue to continue to have fun : for though their parents’ generosity extended to both their tuition and rent, it did not extend to spending money.

— in spite of their chaotic energy, they somehow landed one of the apartments on the block and moved in the beginning of august before their junior year ( august 2019 ).

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂:

— nor is one of the bakers at sunrise on weekdays and saturdays, likely with the 4 am shift that makes the bulk of the baked goods for the morning rush. he also helps with the counter if needed when the shop opens. he’s kicking down the door of 401 a little after 9 am on weekdays just in time to bring fir breakfast and go to class, and noon on weekends. he’d always been a bit of an early riser ( though 4 am isn’t really an acceptable time for anyone, it’s something he’s grown accustomed to ), and luckily functions well on just five hours of sleep or so. he is prone to taking about an hour and a half nap in the afternoons, though. he does enjoy his work, especially walking through the near abandoned corner at the wee hours of morning.

— at NYU nor studies an individualized track in architecture through the gallatin school of individualized study ; his track combines studies in architecture with structural classes in the tandon school of engineering so he can better understand practicality and the importance of structural-based architecture.

— has played hockey since he was quite young and the baums were looking for some way to burn off his energy. a sports town like buffalo it was a pretty obvious choice. he played up through high school, until an injury and two surgeries near the end of his junior year pretty much put an end to any serious athletic scholarships to a hockey school. he still played his senior year, but was advised against the rigors of college hockey. it was also in this time that he discovered his love of baking. he has played for fun nearby on one of the beer league teams the past couple years.

— as mentioned above, he really started to get into baking end of his junior year and senior year when he was either in recovery or benched a lot and wanted to contribute something. he bonded with one of his grandmothers over this time and he definitely loves making her recipes even now !! he’s also definitely the type to make baked goods for the neighbors. he started out beginning of last season at sunrise just doing regular cashier stuff but in a pinch when they were running low on something popular and they didn’t have any bakers on hand he was able to whip up a batch and saved the day and after that his manager asked him if he wanted to be one of the bakers.

— of the two of them, nor is the one more likely to cook, but they probably still rely a bit too heavily on ordering take out ( they are trying their best ).

— nor is quite neat, but more due to the fact he doesn’t own very much for things to get messy.

— has plants in his room and absolutely talks to them

— probably falls asleep while rewatching episodes of the great british bakeoff every night.

— sings in the shower and hums or sings quietly under his breath when he bakes. he’s really not that bad but he definitely lacks the creativity to do songwriting or talent to play an instrument so don’t ask.

— fir and nor have successfully gone to each other’s classes before despite being fraternal, most notably the longest gambit they ran sophomore year of high school where nor went to fir’s math class and she went to his history class and they kept it up until parent-teacher conferences in october ( something they had forgotten to take into consideration ) and their scheme was then exposed and they were subsequently grounded.

— he’s not straight and very much just loves who he loves. that being said, his tendency to look past people’s flaws and hand out second chances has gotten his heart broken a few times and has resulted in fir taking to examining anyone he shows the vaguest interest in under a microscope ( and possibly taken to interrogation ).

— fir and nor co-run the most chaotic tik tok @xmastreez. it has no real purpose or direction and mostly consists of capturing random shenanigans of each other, themselves, or random people. they have a modest following.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘:

— put bluntly, nor is a rather kind and gentle soul ; he tends to want to see the best in people and that leads to him coming across rather naive. that may be true in a sense, but it’s less due to ignorance and more that he hasn’t let any hardship or heartbreak get in the way of his worldview. the exception to this is of course anyone who has hurt fir ; you will then learn that he’s very good at holding grudges too.

— nor isn’t someone to worry about the future very much. there was a point early in high school when he did, but after the injury his junior year, he took on a very one week, one day at a time sort of mentality. he is quite happy to live in the moment for now.

— he’s a hard worker, but only when it comes to things that he likes or wants to learn. he’ll put 100% into anything he deems worthy : his baking, hockey, certain classes of study, but try to get him to read something he doesn’t want to or learn something he dislikes and he will become the biggest slacker you have ever seen.

— he and fir bounce well off each other and though nor may be the more responsible one, it’s clear that fir is more of the leader of the two and that his resolve when it comes to his sister’s absurd ideas is not very strong. that being said he can be very protective of fir ( though not overbearingly so ), in a way that can be seen as quite endearing.

— nor is smart, but only in the context of his classwork. outside the classroom or the bakery, and especially in day-to-day interactions, nor just seems to be lacking a certain brand of common sense.

— honestly he’s a fucking himbo. need i say more.

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄:

— 5′11″ ( one inch taller than fir, a fact hotly contested between them and many times a moot point considering she likes to wear heels ), rather fit thanks to keeping up hockey as a hobby.

— brown eyes, skin that tends to always look a little sunkissed even in the middle of winter, dark brown hair that fluctuates in length, sometimes a bit short, usually a bit longer so that it starts to curl slightly.

— style : he likes black skinny jeans or semi-fitted army green pants that probably get covered in flour too quickly but he wears them to work anyway, and fitted t-shirts in any color. he’s a fan of hoodies, cycling through an old nichols hockey one, an adidas branded one, and a newer nyu sweatshirt he got when he committed to the university. he considers hoodies adequate enough for most of the winter, and hey he’s never really gotten sick from walking to class in just that so why change ?? though he may on occasion throw on a denim jacket over a hoodie. he wears practical boots when it isn’t too hot ( unlike his sister ).  — ref: yes, yes, and yes

— jewelry : nor’s not one for accessories, limited to a couple simple silver necklaces and an analogue watch with a brown leather band that probably takes him a little too long to read.

— scars, tattoos, etc : no tattoos ; a small well-healed scar over his left cheekbone from a hockey accident ( near invisible and most people don’t know it’s there unless they’re close or looking ), several other small scars on his legs and hands that he can’t recall what they’re from ; small birthmark on the outside of his right thigh.

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

🎵i wanna ~𝘷𝘪𝘣𝘦~ with somebody🎵 🎵feel the ᶜʰᵉᵐ with someboᵈʸʸʸʸʸʸ🎵

𝐎𝐎𝐂:

         hello everyone !! i’m ollie ( 22, est, they/them pronouns ) one of your admins. i am pretty much always on discord so hmu there pls, thank you so much for joining 66th, and i can’t wait to vibe w you all !!!!

#66th.intro