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sugar-petals · 3 years

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:: random things about boyfriend yoongi

↳ ♡ NOTE I saw this format floating around the fandom and thought it was cool and sweet (just like our honey boy so here it goes) 😊 includes an sfw and nsfw bit, both can be read independently.

words. 3k

SFW

First off, Yoongi is laid-back and casually sexy the way we know him. But he also has spikes of energy where he actually gets a little clingy. Any opportunity he will use to hold hands or jump around like a madman with his gummy smile because he got excited about something that you never could predict would make him so happy. He truly is an epiphany.

He’s your most eager personal chef but funnily enough a little unsettled by onions so you end up helping him. Yoongi hates to be crying in the kitchen because of some evil little vegetable but hey, perfect time and place to spend half an hour huddled together cooking or baking. And Yoongi is secretly longing for a cheesy scene, he finds it romantic when you wipe the tears from his face.

His way of speaking to you is a mix of mumbly Korean, high-pitched pouty cat speak, and old-school English slang phrases that he learned somewhere on social media or award shows back in 2018. Most of the time he takes things seriously but is up for some joking anyway. He is sure to giggle every now and then which is really adorable of him. Yoongi is also the person who gets every nuance of your humor and reacts to it.

After being single, you really have to get used to someone waddling around the house. Like— oh, he’s there! And it’s none other than him! Since Yoongi isn’t noisy when he concentrates on his laptop, it really stands out when he morphs from his unmovable rock-like being to a slow rolling stone headed towards the kitchen from time to time. You have to blink every time. And how could you not look up, he’s walking by with his cutest oversized sweaters and striped fluffy socks.

He cannot hide things that normal people would try to keep secret — because of their own discomfort, but he is good at blocking out things that serve your comfort. I’ll explain what I mean. If you have been keeping up with Yoongi postponing the reveal of his surgery until it was successful, you know what I mean. In short, Yoongi is pretty much an automatic filter for things that disturb you. Knowing the right time and place to inform you is the key. As is disregarding things that don’t concern you as a couple, unnecessary drama and opinions. He’s really good at that without ever trying to sugar-coat the important things because he remains a frank and honest soul.

Yoongi has an easier time giving random presents for simple occasions rather than making a big deal out of traditional festivities. So, big celebrations are often kept simple — unless the rest of BTS is there advocating their ‘a little party never killed nobody’ motto — while Yoongi focuses on getting you something attentive or useful every other day pretty much. He’s still a frugal type, you know him. It’s more about inexpensive things that catch his eye because he heard you likes this or that type of snack or want this or that sofa cushion.

There’s always something new and surprising in the fridge and it’s hardly ever empty because Yoongs takes care of the groceries, really thinking it through. Just personal chef things. Being Yoongi’s partner must be the most destressing thing. He takes responsibility for the worldly things, the ironing clothes and the trash cans. He himself thinks that’s the easiest shit ever and is ready to put time into it (he sees the merit, it drives him) while thinking your side — the sheer act of being in love with him, being there for him — must be hard. Which it isn’t.

Yoongi thinks emotions and relationships are tough and complicated while daily life runs smoothly at the snap of a finger. You think maintenance is a drudgery while love is not the maze your boyfriend assumes it is. Deep down Yoongi thinks he’s unlovable and a bad person, that’s why he believes he doesn’t have the burden but you have. That your affection then blazes past the barriers in Yoongi’s esteem is something that he finds incredible. It catches him off guard there, you burst the bubbles of the flaws he falsely imagines he has.

You bet your ARMY bomb you’re watching cat videos together.

Guess who’s the first person to hear all of Yoongi’s upcoming hit tracks? Even Namjoon gets the first sample ten minutes later. You gotta be really advanced at keeping secrets and avoiding accidental leaks with your phone or something.

Yoongi hesitates with the analogy because it’s a little funny and you’re evidently not a steaming liquid made of beans, but he claims you really are like his daily americano. Makes his every morning better.

Now, in all seriousness. What means the most to him is that you take him how he is and are stable company. Yoongi is afraid of betrayal and stupid games so he has to be sure to have a safe bet going. I think that’s why he fancies marriage, it’s a sign of commitment and some degree of permanence to him. And yes, he is a bit jealous in nature since he’s easily invested in someone with a purity of feeling, almost in a naive way. Yoongi easily idolizes his partner and puts a lot of energy into a bond. He wants to protect that, take the risk, and he has watched for someone who radiates genuine trust and faith. He is sure to have found it in you without any illusions and he is right. Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty.

Playing the piano for dinner or date night is a must, he practices constantly to advance to a great standard. He secretly finds a lot of satisfaction in you cooing at his skills and melodies. Those ten bony fingers gliding over the keys with such a technicality and focus, and a passion that makes you hold your breath, it’s great to watch.

Did you see that one coming? He will compose and produce a designated mixtape only for you personally. Yes, with a little self-filmed, self-cut music video for the title track.

Now those things never see the light of day, they’re all for you. But what about your couple life once it touches the social realm? As one might expect, Yoongi is very ‘eyes turn narrow’ with people who bring disharmony to your dynamic and the relationship in general. In fact, he is grumpy and disappointed, and should someone give him a reason, distinctly brutal. If someone even attempts to test you or plays manipulative games, Yoongi is relentlessly turning them from the inside out with his words that never miss the mark. They’re efficient. As I said, he hates playing annoying games, he’ll do any shortcut and be Yoongi.

I guarantee you can lean back and will never the fazed by stupid people and time wasters again. No need to lose face. Yoongi does the dirty work and is the best possible defender to have on your side. He handles that. Invasive opinions and useless phrases he will shove right up some trashtalker’s ass and leave. Let’s squarely say he is unafraid to be a armchair critic of your and his haters and doesn’t want any of that nuisance to disturb what you have together. He cuts very quick and makes sure not to get tangled up in trouble.

Yoongi will also debunk a whole bunch of weirdos on weverse asking about your private love while he’s at it. Prepare for some very entertaining snide remarks. Oh my god, so many entitled people will be pissed off. Many will also celebrate him for stepping up. What’s actually important to Yoongi is that nobody taints what is like a treasure to him.

It won’t be hard to overlook that Yoongi is very proud of you as well. He looks confident and revering when he hangs out with the group and you’re somewhere close by, even just doing something trivial.

He’s also pretty touchy, sometimes publically to demonstrate something, but mostly in the relative calm and safety of a hotel room. When the lights are out, all barriers crash, the utter romantic takes over. His favorite types of kisses besides those onto his hands are when you kiss his lashes. And yep. Yoongs is such a cozy little spoon. A very curled up one with cute shooky pajamas on most likely.

Talk about clothes. Believe it or not, Yoongi’s fashion goes through a significant change due to the relationship. He knows that you are touchy and thinks about what kinds of flannels are the biggest cuddle magnet, after all. And oh wonder, he will also show some level of skin when he accidentally hears your praises for his arms and legs and collar bones and glowy skin while talking to a close friend of yours. So, look forward to that in summer (he still dislikes the winter cold and wraps himself into scarves twice his size, mind you) though it’s still for your eyes only, he covers up when going out. Truth be told, he enjoys when you casually touch his skin. Especially the arms. Which hold up the firmament to you, and your world, too, and guard it.

BTS will know about how excited he is about you because he often boasts about for how long you’ve been living together by now. We all know this is Yoongi’s favorite way of bragging and it further shows that loyalty, dedication and longevity is the spice to his every meal.

Yoongi is probably going to quit the bottle because you naturally make him feel at ease and upbeat. In fact, he simply forgets about his wine. I don’t have to convince you that Yoongi will be very immersed in any interaction with you whether that be watching movies or discussing his latest tracks.

Those discussions come with extra back massages for him because he spends a lot of hours in his chair. Especially around the neck, it’s no secret that this is in every cat’s top 3 favorite massaging areas. Yoongi is gonna make some really raspy, sleepy sounds and just melt in your hands. He’s gonna sleep like a baby afterwards every time. Sometimes, he says funny and cute things while he dozes. He looks very content.

Say goodbye to the 21st century adulting annoyances in your life because Yoongi has a grip on those without a word. Those six specific chores that always plague you take him only a dozen minutes and he is eager, the forms to fill out are already sent off, the list of people to e-mail is weeded through. The taxes are paid, the bank account is full, the meals are on the table, garnished to perfection. Roof over the head, and it’s a sturdy one, Yoongi bought a sound haven house to inhabit a lot of happiness for two.

He’s probably the only person who doesn’t see it as a loss of dignity if you want to hold on tight to him during a dentist visit as a grown ass mf. Why all of this? Yoongi cannot not strive to feel needed in his actions. He wouldn’t like himself if he couldn’t contribute something reliable and useful. That you find things worthy of your time is priority. You complement each other, what you think is a waste of energy makes him work and strive and vice versa. That way, in the end all things are taken care of.

Giving is more important than taking in Yoongi’s world. He thinks of everything because he considers it an offense to have you in a pile of duties, that is, if you don’t like ‘em. It’s his form of dedicating his efforts and showing respect. He doesn’t need much in return. The things he expects if at all don’t feel like a duty: Much like he doesn’t consider doing those acts of services for you likewise.

Work horse he is, he needs something on his daily to-do plan. Which includes making you feel unbothered by the occasions of an incoming strict world when it’s getting to you. You’re supposed to do what you feel like doing just like him and not slave away at fifty deeds. That you torture yourself with daily life hassle is the thing he dislikes seeing the most. He enjoys doing these things so he’s happy to get going.

What’s not a daily life hassle: Holly is a big fan of yours. Instant friendship. Just wanted you to know.

He always knows how to preoccupy himself and finds something to improve. Getting on your nerves, and that’s no surprise, is the last thing Yoongi will ever do. In fact, you sometimes have to search for his napping spot because he got lost somewhere in the house.

He either sleeps or works, his philosophy is simple. If you need him, he does appear seemingly out of nowhere. And, he spends as much time with you as you enjoy, not always prioritizing his producing unless it’s urgent or he’s on an inspiration streak. Which is great anyway, you can sit next to him listening. It’s the right balance of work and play.

Yoongi is not above blatantly showing off. Actually, he goes for an act of stunning pretty often. You know how cats parade around whatever they just caught. He wants to impress you with assets and accolades and appraisals, the boy can’t help it. That you only lightly nod at most of it with a little smile will confuse him but he will get the point later on. You wanna signal Yoongi that you anchor your love for him not in shifting numbers and chunky metal pieces.

That you don’t confuse his signs of outward worth and fame with the core of the guy you find the sweetest in the world is very important to him. He will take some time to see through that because he’s used to being loved through status and its symbols by people close and afar.

The way you throw yourself at him to give a big smooch in random situations — especially when he doesn’t feel great about himself— rather than only when he say gets a new car is sending him a message. Again, he has to grow into that. He will retreat at the beginning because he feels worthless of your affection on days where he doesn’t feel big and bold and successful. But since he sees you jumping on him because you need only his kind and squishy presence and see him as no different than usual because he’s always Yoongi underneath, your boyfriend will change his mind about it sooner or later. He learns that your presence makes him feel like a billion dollars yourself.

You don’t wallow in the regrets of other people missing the point of Yoongi and instead focus on always understanding him rather than enabling Yoongi into wrong directions. And there are many of those, his mental health can tell you a thing or two about it. He begins to get that you really know what you’re doing and are in it for the real him which makes him feel really loved far underneath all surfaces and images. You accept his fame and admire his work with music which is what he’s truly doing it for but also don’t forget that the most vulnerable Yoongi is the one that you’re there for and not a facade.

NSFW

I know you’re curious. That Yoongi’s sexual style is more than just interesting goes without saying. To give you an idea. Anything steamy with Yoongi means him taking his time. You know, for making it quality. Yoongi wants to grow into the right balance of activity and staying relaxed. He is good at keeping cool and bringing some focus to the madness. He wants to figure out how to be more casual instead of tense and overly preoccupied which he’ll be at the start of the relationship. But the fast learner he is, his nervousness fades way faster than you think.

Yoongi is extremely afraid that he can’t please you or starts to become awkward slash clueless so he darts to the opposite of the spectrum and overperforms, even plays a character. You have enough cool yourself to tell him what to do in the pace that works best. That he stays centered in his body is important for you to teach him. When he gets grounded and juggling his confidence is out of the equation, he fucks the best.

His favorite position besides giving oral — with you on your back — will be doggy style. Man, we gotta talk about that. Slow to upper moderate pace, nothing too all over the place. Yoongi moans very slowly, too, all drawn out. Get ready for a frequent session of some anal to unwind. You heard that right. First, Yoongi will get the two of you into the right rhythm with his hands at the sides of your waist, then, ride it out in slow mo with his right hand properly stimulating you from the front.

By habit, he will add some lube here and there but not use insanely dripping amounts so everything gets messy or he can’t touch you without sliding off anymore. Just enough to slide well. Yoongi is so good at this I swear, it’ll be your favorite thing to relax. He has the restraint and technique to pull it off rather than pulling out, huh. Yoongi is gonna stay inside you for ages. It feels like he’s massaging every spot for some extra time. It’s amazing to slack off your muscles, cool off, and get many a gentle but fulfilling orgasm.

He’s not gonna put you through the hassle of dealing with an anal creampie cleanup so he keeps it wrapped, and mostly focuses on your movements altogether while keeping his own climax smooth and more relieving rather than something that relentlessly knocks him out in one go. Yoongi is good at observing and doesn’t feel the need to chase a violent high which is why he is so great at sex. Fucking with Yoongi leaves a wholesome feeling and you never feel ashamed or guilty, or a sense of being dirty and ruined.

He enjoys having sex to make you feel really good and works his hands on you very respectfully. His goal is to have you wet and pulsing after a long while of getting you there, and putting you to a good night’s sleep. He’d feel terrible if he left you sore or disturbed. He is really passionate, especially with his kisses or when you ask him to slide into very deeply, but Yoongi being brash and controlling is an image out of sight.

Besides giving you the number one heavenly assfucks, Yoongi also likes to work his tongue as we know, and he’ll work it all over. Few body parts of yours have not made contact with that glorious mouth and I say that in the best of ways. You can instruct him to do whatever, Yoongi obliges with radiant joy. And here again, he takes minutes upon minutes. Kissing and kissing and licking and maybe even teasing once or twice to make you smile. You know, a little signature wink. Honoring your skin and every shape is not something that Yoongi has to talk about, he will physically show it and I swear it’ll finally get into your head with every little move, Yoongi has totally surrendered his tongue to your body and worships it.

#yoongi #yoongi hc #bts smut #yoongi smut #bts #yoongi x reader #boyfriend yoongi #yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #bts x reader #boyfriend bts #bts bullet points #bangtan

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thebadboyfanclub · 4 years

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I Got You (Napoleon x Reader)

This is the third time i’m trying to post this fucking thing, tumblr won’t let the posts I do from my laptop under search results but they will show posts I do from my phone. Anyways, enjoy!

“This better be worth it Waverly”

“Ohhh (y/n) dear trust me it will. Let me introduce you to your new colleagues”

As she walked in the room with one big desk and a few chairs, three of them were occupied by two men and one woman, probably in her 20s. Her eyes however focused on one particular man.... The man that was one of the reasons you thrived in the illegal field.

“This is Miss Gaby Teller, the most important person in this case, next to her is mister Illya Kuryakin, her supposed fiance and-”

“Napoleon Solo. The thief”

She bitterly interrupted Waverly, he was of course aware of (y/n)’s past with Napoleon, it was one of the reasons he requested her to join this case, keeping from her that piece of information of course.

“(y/f/n), you’ve grown up”

“you got old”

“Right, now that everyone knows each other, (y/n) please take a seat and i’ll explain the plan”

As she took a seat from the other side of the table, directly in front of Napoleon, she tried to focus on Waverly and ignore Napoleons intense stare that almost drilled a hole on the side of her head.

“Ok, so since Illya is here to be the love interest for Gaby and Napoleon is here to just get some Italian legs in the air, what am I here for?”

“You dear (y/l/n), you will be portraying miss Brigitte Richard, an heir to the Richard well know Cigar, he is a close friend of mine and graciously agreed to take his daughters name”

“Won’t they know what his daughter looks like?”

“His daughter has been kept away from the public eye and she had transferred in Britain during high school, that’s also where she went to College and recently decided to stay there. I will give you a file of hers to study. Your goal is to get close to Victoria vinciguerra during the event, maybe even seem interested in mister Solo, of course for show, nothing more”

“Of course, everything is only just for show when it has to do with Napoleon”

(Y/n) was dressed in her best attire, her long red dress that hugged her waist so beautifully, of course some silver diamond earrings on her ears and her hair up in a perfect updo, her heels were comfortable at least, but if she had to run the dress would not hold for long until it gives a show to anyone around her, she prays that it didn’t have to happen, or she would be royally screwed,

“Miss Richard , your father was right you do have your mothers eyes”

What a fool, she thought, this is who she was hiding from? a woman that complimented her for the resemblance in her eyes.... she wasn’t even close to being related to this people. However, on the outside, she smiled brightly at the tall blonde lady

“Thank you so much, god rest her soul she at least she was generous enough to pass them down to me, my dads brown eyes are great but a tad bit boring don’t you think?”

The blonde gave a tight lip smile to her comment. Of course, if she knew that her real parent had never seen this type of luxury, the lady wouldn’t even spare a glance.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, Victoria Vinciguerra”

“Brigitte Richard, my father made sure to keep me away from all of... this, he wanted his kids to be humble”

“I’m really sorry for your brother”

“It’s alright, I miss him but... c’est la vie”

(Y/n) had almost swallowed the file Waverly had given her, she even looked into the cigar company, just in case anyone asked questions. As the two ladies kept talking, she started hearing commotion,she turned her head towards the direction it was coming from and saw one familiar man falling to the ground.

“What is going on over there?”

“Excuse me dear”

Victoria started walking towards him and of course (y/n) followed. When they finally reached the crowd that was already forming a circle around him, there he was fanning himself the invitation dramatically, in true Napoleon fashion. (Y/n) kissed her teeth in annoyance, he was supposed to discreetly blend in, not cause a god damn ruckus the minute he walks in.

“Thank you, Thank you”

“I wonder what they do to people without invitations”

That is when she decided to take actions. She weaseled her way out of the crowd and kneeled in front of him to his level, offering her glass of champagne to him.

“Are you alright sir?”

“Yes, thank you very much Darling”

“I’m Victoria Vinciguerra, she is (y/f/n). I do believe an apology is in order. I’ll take it from here”

You helped him get up on his feet and took two steps to lean in and talked to her.

“of course miss Vinciguerra... next one is mine”

She giggled as she walked away in triumphant. To be frank the rest of your job was to keep an eye on these two, yet she could still say she completed the most important part.What she didn’t expect was the growing fire in the pit of her stomach that was directed to Victoria, looking at her talking to Napoleon so nonchalantly made her teeth hurt and her breasts ached with rage.

“It’s such a lovely day to be so pouty miss”

“Well sir... there is nothing really here for me to smile about”

“Not even me?”

“I think I am better off being the reason for someone to smile”

“Roberto Russo, charmed”

“Brigitte Richard”

Roberto was a handsome man, tall, light brown hair, hazel eyes, sharp jawline, full lips and extremely well dressed, no doubt he knew his way around women and money. What a better distraction and cover up than him?

What (y/n) had not calculated was Napoleon picking up at her “strategic” flirt and filling like punching the hell out of this pretentious little Italian boy that grew up spending daddy’s money. He restrained himself from walking over to her and taking her hand, guiding her away from everyone, keeping her all to herself.

“I saw you were talking to my aunt”

“Oh you are related to Victoria?”

“Yes, my dad is her brother. I actually haven’t spoken to her today, come with me?”

“How could I ever refuse?”

As he offered his arm she smiled and linked hers with his, walking over with her head held high as they got close to Napoleon and Victoria

“My dearest Roberto, how are you?”

she kissed her nephew at both of his cheeks and yet no smile was shown. She really was cold, Roberto however smiled brightly, feeling excited to show his knew “catch” to his aunt.

“I’m doing well... who might he be?”

“Jack Devinsky, Nice to meet you”

Roberto looked at Napoleon up and down, almost well not almost... judging him harshly. Napoleons sure looked rich but there were levels to how rich you were, especially when men judged one another.

“Roberto Russo. Well... aunt Victoria may I occupy you for a minute”

“Of course, anything for my nephew”

“It will only take a minute dear”

“I am counting”

She replied at him, he took her hand and placed a gentle kiss as he stared directly in her eyes, winking at her as she left her with Napoleon. They stood there in awkward silence for a few moments, they haven’t really spoken since the case started, (y/n) made sure to avoid him.

“You look stunning if that isn’t obvious”

“Thanks”

She said dryly. She barely even looked him in the eye, all she could see was that damn night, the night she lost everything, the night her heart shuttered, the night he showed her all the cruelty of the world he always talked about.

“You are mad at me”

“Do you blame me?”

“No, it still upsets me though”

“That sounds like a personal issue to me”

The event was a success. which meant (y/n) could finally relax and wear her pajamas, pour a drink for herself and lounge in the couch her room had. She still wore his necklace, the gold star necklace he had bought her way back when... she took the charm in her hands and felt the cold metal.

How much more could she take with him around? it took her so much time to heal and now here he was again, scratching the wounds she had closed up all by herself. She was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard a knock at her door. She got up to answer it and was met with the man of the hour.

“Napoleon”

“May I come in?”

She sighed before stepping aside to let him in. Even when all she wanted was to punch him in the face, her heart took over her and let him walk into her room and her life once again, even when she had swore to take revenge when she saw him again.

“What do you want?”

“To talk”

“About what?”

She was well aware she was snapping at him, could you blame her? He had swore to protect her, help her when she had nothing and no one, taught her everything and then one night she came home to find all his belongings missing... and that damn letter tore her apart, she didn’t sleep for days, she waited for him to return for months and yet he never did.

“(Y/n) I know-”

“YOU KNOW NOTHING

”her voice booming through the entire room, it was like a glass of emotions was overflowing, threating to spill and make a mess. He saw the pain in her face, her lower lips trembling, her hands forming fists... still what caught his eye was one thing, the necklace. She was wearing his necklace, after all these years she didn’t throw it away. He took a breath through his nose before continuing.

“(y/n) you have every right to be upset-”

“Damn right I do”

“Will you just listen?”

“listen to what Napoleon?! What?!What?!What?!”

Next thing that was heard was her glass smashing at the wall, Vodka dripping down and small pieces of glass going everywhere. Napoleon was shocked, he should have known this wouldn’t be easy, he had wanted to reach out to her over the years, he had even went through with finding her, yet every time he chickened out last minute and walked away from it. Now, here she was in pain, yelling and smashing things... she had become his enemy

“I’m sorry”

“You are sorry? Sorry? for what Napoleon? for leaving me? for doing it in such cruel way? for lying to me?”

“I never lied”

“You swore to me that you loved me, that you... cared”

There it was, tears. She couldn’t even control it, as her voice cracked and the waterfalls started, she didn’t also want to cover them, she wanted him to see what he had done... to hell with being the bigger person. He wanted to hug her, comfort her, make her feel loved but now all he could do was to try and reason with her.

“I had to leave”

“Why? What could possibly be the reason... money? paintings? women?”

“You know I would never cheat on you”

“Oh yeah, cause leaving our house in the middle of the night is so much better”

She tried wipe away her tears, silence falling between them once again. As a way to calm and hide her emotions, she kneeled and started picking up pieces of glass, her back turned to him. Napoleon went to her side and even when he wanted to pick her up and kiss her, he controlled his desire

“(Y/n) stop, you’ll cut yourself”

“I’m fine Napoleon”

“(Y/n) the maid can do it”

“I said I’m- FUCK”

a piece of sharp glass had cut her as she accidentally gripped it a bit too hard. Napoleon saw the blood and got up immediately to find some tissues, while (y/n) got on her feet and brought her hand close to her chest, closing it to a fist as a way to stop the pain. When Napoleon approached she turned her back once again

“I said I’m fine”

“(Y/n) you are bleeding, let me care for you”

She had started crying again. As she turned around and opened her hand to him Napoleon gently placed the tissues on the wound, dabbing away the blood carefully.

“Why did you leave?”

“I thought I was protecting you, a way to keep you away from all of the things I was doing”

“Yet... here we are”

He looked up at her. Her lower lip was in between her teeth, tears freshly running down, her beautiful eyes were now red and puffy, her nose was running and he still found her heavenly.

“You kept the necklace”

“I tried throwing it away, or ponding it... I couldn’t find the courage... it’s too pretty”

“I tried coming back to you... multiple times”

“Why didn’t you do it?”

“I don’t know, I just didn’t”

She finally kept eye contact with him, getting lost once again in those ocean blue eyes, the eyes she looked at when they were laying naked on their bed, the eyes that looked at her when she woke up. With his one hand Napoleon slowly reached over and wiped a few tears with his thumb

“You are too pretty to cry over me”

“I missed you Napoleon”

She whispered looking down on the ground in embarrassment. She was everything he ever wanted, a woman that loved him and had his back and he tossed that all away, his intentions were pure yet the damage was gigantic. He hesitated for a minute, before taking her in his arms for a hug, her head nuzzling on his neck as she held on to him for the first time in what felt like centuries. Napoleon kissed her head, smelling her shampoo that was always the same, lavender.

“I missed you too munchkin”

She giggled at the nickname. Napoleon had met her when she was struggling to survive, she was this delicate little thing that looked everyone with kind eyes, yet once he got to know her he saw the passion, the fire, the potential she had to become something great, he didn’t want all that potential to go on illegal things that could possibly get her in jail or worse kill her. So from the beginning of the relationship he called her munchkin.

“Will we be alright?”

“I got you munchkin, I got you”

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Good Morning Campers, Chapter 3 (Crystal x Gigi) - Gelato

A/N: I realized I never bothered to put a description when I originally posted but I just want to thank everyone that’s read so far for taking a chance on it! I plan on adding two more chapters after this before wrapping it up xx

“In my 15 years of running this establishment, I have never dealt with such an incident! You’ve not only completely destroyed the dining hall, but you’ve tarnished a legacy of poise and grace that the young women of this camp pride themselves on..”

Mrs. Davis’ rant had gone on for about 20 minutes.

What meant to be a personal retaliation on The Heather’s by the Strange Gang had erupted into an all out food fight.

It only took a single tray flying from Yvie’s hand to domino the entire dining pavilion into chucking their own trays at one another. Ten minutes, and about 5 gallons of macaroni salad later, they had left a mess that would take an entire day of cleaning to fix.

This wasn’t the worst part.

After Yvie had launched the initial attack, Gigi’s posse hadn’t scurried as expected. It wasn’t long before each one of them had paired off with a member of their opposing group and began physically fighting. Yvie and Adore against Violet and Nicky, Katya against Naomi.

Crystal against Gigi.

They sat across from one another as Mrs. Davis paced the floor, continuing with her lecture on appropriate behavior and the importance of being a model camper.

Crystal sat with a leg over her knee and her arms crossed tight, an uncommon scowl clouding her features. She had a bruised left eye and a busted lip. Believe it or not, she didn’t look the worst of the two.

Gigi had suffered a cracked cheek bone and was sporting a bald spot at the back of her head from her hair being pulled.

Crystal hadn’t meant to rough her up so bad. But she truly wasn’t able to control her anger.

Their fight replayed endlessly in her head.

Gigi’s ear piercing scream reverberated through the dining hall.

Shortly after, the girls surrounding them joined in the fun and began flinging their meals left and right. It was uncertain how things had turned more physical, but witnesses said that

Adore through the first punch at Violet after a few choice words between the two of them. The rest of the group followed suit, slipping and sliding on the dining hall floors that were now caked with slop.

Upon clearing her eyes of the contents of Yvie’s tray, Gigi walked straight passed the scuffle to make a b-line for Crystal who stood at a short distance watching the others fight, a smile playing on her lips and fire in her eyes.

“Are you kidding me? What the hell is your problem?!” Gigi shrieked, her angry face an inch from Crystal’s.

“If you hadn’t noticed, I didn’t throw shit!” Crystal spat back, her eyes took Gigi in from head to toe.

Damn her for being so hot when she was angry. She snapped right out of this thought as Gigi shoved her to the ground.

“Fuck you!” Gigi screamed and turned on her heals to leave Crystal in the others behind to deal with the chaos.

She was nearly to the exit before she was yanked to the ground by her hair by a now irate Crystal who had ran up behind her with almost inhuman speed.

This action was enough to cause the damage on Gigi’s face. The two exchanged a few swipes and hair pulls before being separated by a pair of Senior Counselors.

“Miss Methyd, are you listening?” Mrs. Davis snapped Crystal out of her thoughts.

“Um.. I’m sorry, I-“ Crystal stammered.

“Oh, we will be sorry now won’t we? Pack your bags, you’re spending the next week in the disciplinary bunk. Upon your return to the main camp you will be demoted to camper status and will no longer stay with the Junior Counselor’s.” Mrs. Davis instructed sternly.

Gigi and the Heather’s erupted with excited cheers at the swiftly dealt punishment.

“You as well, Miss Goode. Pack your bags. I want you both set up in your new quarters by lights out.” Mrs. Davis said, quickly shutting the Heather’s up.

They sat gobsmacked before exploding in protest, Gigi being the loudest of the group.

“What? Why? I didn’t do anything!” She exclaimed, failing to hold back the tears that began to bubble at her eyes.

“I have plenty of testimonies from other campers that overheard your inappropriate comments about Miss Methyd before this mess started. You will be held responsible to the same standards. Have I made myself clear?” Mrs. Davis wasted no time with her response.

Gigi was taken aback. In all of her years attending this camp, Mrs. Davis had never spoken to her this way. Her face turned ghost white, eyes darting to an equally shocked Crystal.

A week alone.

Just the two of them.

——-

The storm raged on outside the four walls of the isolated disciplinary cabin at the edge of the lake, far from the main camp sight.

In addition to their new lodgings, the girls would have to sit out of participating of any enjoyable camp activities. Instead, they would spend their days tending to camp janitorial duties for the next week.

Gigi laid snug in her bed, failing to drift to sleep. It was strange seeing as the sound of rain almost never failed to do the trick, but her stomach was in knots.

She mentally cursed the other girl who laid a few feet from her, who seemingly had no trouble falling asleep.

They hadn’t said one word to each other while setting up in their new quarters, not even a swear or a bicker between the two before lights out.

Gigi’s fuzzy vision adjusted and focused on Crystal’s sleeping form. Her back was turned to her, but she could still make out the rise and fall of her chest.

Her stupid, beautiful chest.

Ugh.

Gigi scowled. She wanted so badly to hate Crystal. But it felt damn near impossible even now.

“I can feel your eyes on me.” Crystal murmured, rolling over to gaze back at the red head six feet away.

Gigi flushed pink and hoped the darkness of the cabin would conceal it.

“It’s okay. I like looking at you too.” Crystal whispered. She tried to keep a joking edge to her tone, but it came out much more sincere than she had meant to.

“I don’t..” Gigi trailed off. She didn’t have the energy within herself to argue. Her eyes locked with Crystal’s.

Cool blues drowning in chocolate pools.

“I’m sorry.” Crystal whispered back.

“Me too.” Gigi replied softly. She really had been. It suddenly seemed so silly, behaving the ways she did. She regretted every word she said about Crystal.

Crystal smiled and lifted her blanket, gesturing for Gigi to join her.

Gigi let out a laugh from her own bed, but it quickly subsided and her eyes widened as she realized Crystal wasn’t joking around with her silent offer.

“C’mon. I know you want to.” Crystal giggled.

Gigi shook her head and buried her face into her pillow.

“You’re crazier than you look.” She muttered before lifting her face to lock eyes with the girl across the room.

That plush, multicolored Lisa Frank throw blanket sure did look inviting.

Crystal pouted and dropped her invitation before turning her back to the red head.

“Suit yourself.” She threw quietly over her shoulder.

Moments later and much to her surprise, the wooden cabin floors creaked under Gigi’s feet as she gingerly shuffled to Crystal’s bed.

What am I doing? Gigi wondered to herself.

She was quite literally climbing into bed with her sworn enemy. But Crystal had her own gravitational pull it seemed. It enveloped her, tugging her in with little to no resistance.

She sat next to Crystal’s laying form first, hesitant to get too comfortable. They stared at one another for a moment.

“What are we doing?” Gigi asked, at a loss for what was next.

“Well, I thought we were snuggling.” Crystal stated plainly, patting the spot next to her head on her pillow. She then reached over and pulled Gigi gently by the waist.

The red head barely resisted and allowed herself to fall into the sheets. Their faces rested only inches from one another now. Crystal’s hand snaked effortlessly around Gigi’s waist, pulling her even closer. She leaned in, tired of resisting.

“Wait.” Gigi whispered. Her own hand pressed gently at Crystal’s chest. It traced gently up to her neck and chin before settling to caress her soft face. Her thumb swiped over Crystal’s pouty bottom lip. Still a bit swollen from their scuffle earlier in the dining hall.

“I just want to look at you.” She continued softly.

Crystal’s eyes fluttered shut. She had never felt more at peace. She leaned into Gigi’s touch. There was no one stopping them now. No intrusions, no interruptions. Just the two of them.

Gigi closed the gap between them and pressed her lips to Crystal’s in a soft, warm kiss.

They broke apart only to take in a breath, eyes both growing wide with awe and adoration. Their lips quickly met again, this time with more urgency. Their gentle pecks grew more passionate. Their hands grabbed feverishly at each other’s bodies, Gigi holding tight to Crystal’s face, and Crystal holding tighter to Gigi’s waist.

Crystal took Gigi’s bottom lip in between her teeth and tugged gently before swiping her tongue across it, asking for permission.

Gigi had endured french kisses with her boyfriend back home, and always thought herself to not be a fan.

Boy, was she wrong. So wrong.

Crystal’s tongue was like magic against her own. It was almost too much for her. Her body was on fire as they now fought for dominance with their kisses.

She broke their embrace only to roll herself on top of Crystal, pinning her arms above her head.

Crystal blushed and narrowed her eyes up at Gigi with a wide smile.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.” She breathed, her chest heaving with excited breaths from Gigi straddling her.

Gigi’s confidence caved a little as she was admittedly surprised at her actions despite not knowing where to go from here.

“I’ve never done this before.” She whispered to the blue haired girl that laid below her. She was instantly embarrassed and moved to lay beside her instead, much to Crystal’s dismay.

Crystal turned to face the other girl and bit her lip. Her eyes softened with understanding. She allowed her fingers to trace along Gigi’s side, trailing them downward until they rested just above the band of her silk pajama shorts.

“Can I show you?” She asked sheepishly, taking her bottom lip between her teeth and drifting her lust filled eyes to meet Gigi’s.

Gigi let a shaky breath and nodded, guiding Crystal’s fingers underneath the band of her shorts and between her legs.

The rain almost wasn’t a enough to drown out the moans that escaped their lips through out the remainder of the evening, and each of them silently thanked the gods that they were too far from the main camp for anyone to hear them.

———

Gigi giggled softly and buried her face in Crystal’s neck, peppering soft kisses from her chin to her chest.

“What’s so funny?” Crystal whispered sleepily, reveling in the feel of Gigi’s lips against her bare skin.

After hours in bed together, their bodies were still practically live wires. Every touch left a tingly sensation running down each other’s spines.

Even their legs were still shaking.

“I just didn’t know that it could be like this.” Gigi breathed, resting her chin on Crystal’s chest to gaze up at her.

Crystal smiled hazily and pulled Gigi up to meet her lips once again. She was just too beautiful not to kiss.

This was all she had dreamed of for years now. And it was happening. Finally it was happening.

She pondered Gigi’s words a bit longer before pulling away to question them.

“What do you mean?” She asked softly.

“Well don’t make me say it.” Gigi laughed again and casted her eyes down, blushing.

“Fucking?” Crystal asked innocently, not realizing how crass she may have sounded. It was all she really knew sex to be, at least before Gigi.

Gigi’s eyes widened and she let out a shocked chuckle before lightly slapping Crystal’s chest to chastise her.

“Making love..” she corrected her before stopping herself a moment too late.

Crystal’s smile never faltered. She liked the way that sounded much better than “fucking.”

They drifted to sleep entangled with one another, stirring just a few hours later as the sun peaking through the curtains to take their naked bodies out of the darkness and thrust it into the light. Unlike it would have before, this didn’t make them pull away.

Gigi was in no rush to leave Crystal’s bed.

Until a knock at the door and the mumble of familiar voices got her scrambling to her feet.

“Gigi Goode, you open this door right now and join us for breakfast!” Violet’s shrill voice rang from outside the cabin walls.

“Fuck!” Gigi hissed, nearly falling over as she struggled to stand, her legs wobbling uncontrollably.

She quickly pulled her silk tank top and shorts over her naked body before tossing Crystal’s cotton panties and over sized New Kids on the Block t-shirt back at her, urging her to get dressed before the unexpected company saw their way in.

Once they were both less naked, she hurriedly opened the door and attempted to keep her composure, praying that the blush she felt spreading from her chest to her face would go unnoticed.

“What are you guys doing here so early?” She asked, shocked that the three remaining Heather’s stood before her, dressed and ready for the day.

“We only get meals with you, remember? No time to waste. Get dressed!” Nicky urged the leggy red head before pushing past and raiding her suitcase to pick out a suitable outfit for the dining hall. A tennis skirt and camp tee would do.

Crystal sat from her bed and watched the chaos unfold as the other two girls followed suit to fuss over Gigi.

Their high pitched voices filled the room as they passed her around like a doll, taking a brush to her hair and gloss to her lips, pulling her together into a picture perfect Heather in a matter of minutes.

Gigi groaned and complained the entire time, embarrassed that Crystal had to watch on as her friends engulfed her with clothes and makeup.

She had barely tied a single shoe before they began urging her out the door.

She looked back at Crystal, mouthing “I’m sorry” before allowing herself to be completely pulled out of eyesight down the cabin steps.

Crystal pouted, saddened that her evening with Gigi was officially over.

She stood up to stretch, opting to get dressed herself and wake her own friends to spend whatever time she could with them before reporting to janitorial duty.

“You guys go ahead, I forgot my scrunchie!” Gigi’s voice bellowed from outside, followed by the sound of scurrying feet rushing back toward the cabin.

She burst through the door and allowed it to swing shut before darting across the wooden floors to fling herself into Crystal’s arms, knocking both of them back into bed before planting an eager kiss to her lips.

They broke apart and each breathed a sigh of content to have their bodies flush with one another again.

“I just needed one more.” Gigi explained shyly with a slight shrug, a little embarrassed.

“I’m not complaining.” Crystal beamed, rubbing the tip of her nose against Gigi’s before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

“See you for chore duty after breakfast?” Gigi asked, hating every bit of breaking away from Crystal’s embrace.

“It’s a date.” Crystal replied assuredly.

She had never looked forward to mopping floors and scrubbing toilets more in her life.

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #crystal methyd #crygi #summer camp au #lesbian au #good morning campers #gelato

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roseskiesandbutterflies · 4 years

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Killer Queen - Chapter 10: Dreamers Ball

Summary: Life is easy when things go your way. I know this from experience. I also know that that can disappear in an instant and that you have to be able to rely on your friends. Luckily my name is Arabella Ruth White and I’m the fifth marauder. But I want to show you the girl behind the mask. It takes a lot of work to be this fabulous, darling. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name.)

A/N: So, I recently binge-read all of Lore Olympus on Webtoons and if you haven’t read it, then I highly recommend it. It’s about the Greek Gods (mainly Persephone and Hades) but it deals with some mature themes just to warn you. The chapter title comes from Queen’s 1978 album, Jazz.

Warning(s): alcohol, drugs, swearing, implied sex

Word Count: 4.3k+ (this was one word off of being 4400 words so that’s annoying)

Inspiration: random headcanons I found on Tumblr and Pinterest, The Boy Who Killed God by SeraMGrigori on AO3, All The Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 on AO3, Sweet Things by Cocomouse on AO3

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26

Ask to be on my taglist!

Throwing a birthday ball might just have been my best idea thus far, if I did say so myself, and it hadn’t even started yet. I was gradually walking through the doors of the Great Hall, embracing my dramatic entrance for every little millisecond that it was worth. All eyes were on me, as they should be since it was my birthday and I bloody love attention, and suddenly I understood what brides must feel like when they walk down the aisle. The train of my sparkling golden gown trailed along behind me, leaving a stream of glitter in my wake. It had been both a style choice and a way to infuriate Filch when he had to clean it up. Have fun with that, you miserable bastard. The Great Hall was decorated from top to bottom in gold, gold streamers, gold glitter, gold balloons. It was akin to the Emerald City from The Wizard Of Oz but, well, gold. Anyone who was anyone was among the crowd watching me, providing they were at least a fifth year; I didn’t want little kids at my birthday party, thank you very much. The only ones I would even consider would be Rhea and Luke, but they weren’t at Hogwarts yet and right now, I was grateful for that. As far as I could see, everyone had a glass of amber-coloured liquid in their hand, which I assumed was butterbeer for the far majority of people in the hall. Some minuscule part of me wanted to squirm under all of the attention, but I suppressed it as best as I could. I had a reputation to keep up, after all.

You may be wondering how on earth I got access to the Great Hall for my birthday party, and honestly, I can’t blame you for pondering such a thing. It had been a complete stroke of luck which had come in the form of good old Minnie McGee. I’d been explaining my plan for the ball to the lads during one breakfast back in September, yes my plans for it have been in the works for that long what are you going to do about it, and Minnie had overhead while she was walking past our usual spot. I’m quite sure she has some kind of hearing superpower, even though that particular sense should be decaying with her old age rather than growing. And just in case you’ve somehow found this, naturally, I mean no offence, Minerva, so please don’t give me another detention I really don’t want one please and thank you. She’d then gone on to offer the Great Hall for the party but with three conditions. One, she could go and bring Dumbledore as her ‘date’, two, we served nothing stronger than butterbeer and three, we actually worked hard for our OWLs which were just around the corner. Initially, we all thought that she was joking but it turned out that she was deadly serious (naturally Sirius had interrupted her with his classic pun) and that she was, in fact, rather looking forward to going to a party for the first time in a while. James had then asked if she was on drugs, because quite frankly this was one of the nicest things she had ever done for us, and she came very close to whacking him upside the head for even suggesting such a thing. But she never actually denied it, so I still secretly think she does weed. I don’t know about you, but I can most certainly see it.

Now, as you’d expect, I was rather disappointed at Minnie’s suggestion of a near total absence of alcohol, but it hadn’t been long before Sirius, always searching for an excuse to drink to the point where I often wondered if he was addicted, had suggested something quite marvellous: an afterparty. Such a seemingly straightforward idea quickly turned into something so much more. We decided to hold it later on in the night in the Room of Requirement, and only the elite people knew about it and, subsequently, invited. And by ‘elite’, I mean the male specimens I call friends, the females who I love and cherish and a couple of other people. And that was bound to be very much alcohol-fuelled. As long as I had that to look forward to, I could endure a much more age-appropriate evening, just not for too long.

Finally, I reached the platform where the teachers would usually sit during meals, and bear in mind that I had been milking the moment for way longer than necessary, so this did take some time. I cleared my throat for effect before speaking in an impossibly posh voice, “Thank you all for attending my ball this evening. I won’t talk for too long because I would hate to bore you to tears, I’ll leave that job to Professor Binns. Now, Minnie, don’t look at me like that, we all know it’s true. Look, even Dumbledore agrees with me and you can’t argue with Dumbledore. Moving on, I would like to say a couple of things so entertain me for a moment. One, if any of you are caught drinking anything stronger than butterbeer, then I will happily leave you to face the wrath of our dear Minerva on your own, I have no intention of arguing with any teacher tonight.” A few giggles rippled throughout the crowd as well as a few pouty faces from people who were doing a shockingly awful job at hiding mini bottles of firewhiskey behind their backs. It wasn’t my problem, I did say this on the invites I sent out, if they chose to go against that then they would deal with the consequences, not me. I continued, “Two, I hope you all enjoy yourselves tonight and remember, it ends at precisely eleven o’clock, which means don’t hang around. Frank and Alice, I’m looking at you.” The couple in question blushed furiously and Alice gave me a death stare that could rival the one I get from Remus when I gather enough courage to steal some of his chocolate. I then clapped twice to signal the official start of the ball and music began to blast from the speakers I’d linked up to my record player which was enchanted to start playing a record whenever I clapped my hands.

It took a second, but people were soon dancing and mingling and doing whatever else people do at parties. I made a beeline straight for the boys but ignored their greetings, instead, I grabbed two, I wasn’t sure which ones, and, hoping that they were all following if they weren’t being dragged, marched over to the drinks table. I let go of whoever I had been holding to pour myself a much-needed butterbeer, but in a wine glass because I’m classy like that, leaving two boys to rub their arms in pain.

“Bloody hell, Ruth, you could have just asked us to come with you, that really wasn’t necessary,” Remus muttered as he got his own drink.

“Why is your grip that damn strong?” James pouted, whining like the little child that he is.

Sirius just smirked evilly, “I think we all know where she gets her practice with her grip.”

Naturally, I wasn’t going to have that, so I swatted him on the arm as if he was a fly, but then I decided that that just wasn’t enough, so I kicked him in the shin. Not too hard because I was feeling nice for some strange reason, but you get the idea. He then howled suspiciously like a dog, causing us all to give him strange looks that pretty much read dude what the fuck.

Sirius, then desperate to change the subject to literally anything else, went on to ask, “Ruth, are Snivellus and his mates supposed to be here? Because I don’t have a problem with physically throwing them out,” he shrugged.

I sighed, knowing my response wasn’t going to be immensely popular amongst the group. I muttered quietly, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, “I invited them.” As expected, I was met with outcries and protests from the cloud of testosterone surrounding me, such as but they’re such pricks and why would you want to infect your own party with the human equivalent of the goddamn plague, so I was quick to defend myself, “I didn’t want to! It’s just that Lily said that she wouldn’t go if I didn’t at least give Snivellus the option. But then I worried that he’d hang around Lily the whole time, and I wasn’t going to allow that, so I invited a couple of his friends too. I didn’t think they’d actually show up though,” I peered over Peter’s shoulder to observe him talking to Lily, grimacing at his choice of outfit if you could even call that monstrosity an outfit. I’d specified in the invites that you had to wear muggle ballgown-wear and you had to make it yourself using magic. I guess blood supremacists don’t even want to wear muggle-style clothes these days. They really are that shallow and it surprised me how Lily couldn’t see that.

Sirius huffed and made a comment that sounded like it should have come from James’s mouth instead of his, “Fine, but only because Lily is a treasure and I’m also terrified to death of her.” When he was met with blank stares for the second time in five minutes, he blushed furiously, only just clocking what he had just revealed.

I smirked at him, “Since when were you such good friends with my dear Lily?”

It was just a widely accepted fact that the girls weren’t huge fans of the boys, and while those attitudes weren’t reciprocated by the other side, it was practically unheard of for the girls to be anything more than civil with the boys. Well, only if you don’t count Lily and Remus’s strange friendship. I’d often promoted a union of sorts between my two friendship groups, holding out in my firm belief that some epic bonds could be formed if they just tried, but I was usually shot down with objections of but they’re arrogant toe rags. I think that that’s complete and utter bullshit but each to their own, I guess. I just carried on in the hope that one day they’d come round and see how silly they were being.

While James was appearing to have a mental breakdown right there and then, Sirius slowly explained, “Since a couple of weeks ago? I went down to the common room because I couldn’t sleep and I found Lily and she looked quite upset, so I asked her what was wrong, thinking she would just tell me to piss off or something, but she just burst into tears and she told me a lot of stuff that I won’t tell you because I think it’s private. Anyway, long story short, we had a rather profound conversation at two in the morning, followed by a couple of games of chess because neither of us wanted to go back to bed. We’ve had some rather thought-provoking conversations in Charms because we sit next to each other this year. She’s actually really cool.”

I grinned broadly at him, “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you for four whole years!” We then high-fived because why the fuck not. Remus gave us a look of wholehearted betrayal, which is understandable because he had been assisting me in my quest to get them to appreciate Lily properly, so I gave him a high-five too, and so did Sirius. Then Peter and James high-fived for no reason other than they were feeling left out, as they should be. So, we all looked like fucking crackheads already but that was to be expected of us.

“Anyway, just because Sniv is allowed to be here, doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to fight him the second he does something fucked up, right?” Sirius asked.

“You and I both know you’ll fuck him up regardless of whether I allow it or not, so yes, yes you can. In fact, please do.”

***************

By around midnight we were drunk off our asses in the Room of Requirement, the civilisation of the ball long gone. It was total carnage, although you probably worked that one out for yourself, but it wasn’t all bad seeing as my two friend groups don’t try to murder each other every five seconds when under the influence of my lovely friend alcohol. Most of us were sprawled out on various sofas, still in our ball attire, with Hunky Dory playing on my record player at a much lower volume because our drunk asses couldn’t deal with too much noise. I was lying on a sofa with my head in Marlene’s lap and my feet in Dorcas’s while James and Peter shared a sofa. Alice and Frank were, as I had predicted earlier on, making out in some darkened corner, thinking that they were being subtle because no one was gawping at them. In reality, the only reason we all refused to look was because they were being more than a bit gross and no one wanted to see that, to be frank. Pun absolutely intended. Dorcas didn’t drink because of her religion, which meant she was the only sober one in the room, and that meant it was her job to make sure we didn’t get ourselves killed or anything like that. Lily was actually a bit tipsy, but only due to Sirius’s incessant nagging that she was missing out on the finer things in life. I mean there were certainly finer things than knock-off elf wine we smuggled in from Hogsmeade, but Lily didn’t need to know that. Meanwhile, Sirius was stumbling on a table he’d conjured for this exact reason, wearing Marlene’s stiletto heels and ranting about society’s many problems as he usually did when drunk. Tonight’s topic was for discussion was feminism.

“But why is the world like this? We shouldn’t just accept it for how it is! Shouldn’t we try and change it or something?” he slurred, finishing his drink and promptly refilling it with his wand. Several amens could be heard from almost everyone in the room, as is what happened every time Sirius made a point. It was strongly reminiscent of the church service my mum would drag me along to from time to time.

“Sirius, not that I don’t agree with you, but maybe you should get down before you break your neck?” Lily suggested, looking at him in sheer terror.

He just pouted down at her, “I will only get down when the patriarchy falls, and you girls don’t have to live in fear of boys who have the audacity to call themselves men!”

“If a boy comes anywhere near me, I’ll just smack him round the face, I don’t give a shit,” I piped up, swinging my hand around as if I was actually punching someone, and coming very close to actually hitting Marlene in the face.

“That’s alright though because self-defence and shit,” James grinned at me, running over to clink his glass against mine, then running back to his sofa and sitting down as if nothing happened, leaving me confused, to say the least.

“Has anyone seen Remus?” Sirius suddenly changed the subject. When all he got in response was shrugs and confused looks, he started walking up and down the table like it was a catwalk, shouting, “Remus! Remus, where are you, you little shit? Remu-” he suddenly fell straight off of the table but stood up and brushed himself off as if he hadn’t just nearly died, “Reeeeeeemuuuuuuuus!”

“I think he’s with Idania. I don’t know where though,” Peter offered.

Marlene and I gave each other a knowing look and bumped arms, “I think we all know what they’re getting up to,” she raised an eyebrow at me suggestively.

“Ooooooh, Remus you saucy boy,” I snorted, making James cackle so much that he fell off of his chair and also making Lily fake-vomit so much that I was seriously expecting her to actually throw up right there and then.

I think it’s important to update you on the whole Idania-Remus situation. It’s been a tricky one, I won’t lie to you about that. They only started talking again a couple of days ago, making it nearly three weeks of silent treatment from both parties. Even I thought that that was a bit much, and we all know that I can be a dramatic little shit at the best of times. After copious amounts of persuasion from us, way more than would have been necessary if he wasn’t a stubborn bastard, a rather miserable Remus had finally apologised for some things he’d said in the heat of the argument that he hadn’t really meant. He didn’t disclose exactly what he’d said, but I have to be honest, I was just glad that he got over himself and talked to her because it was painful to sit behind them in History of Magic while they were being that damn ridiculous. Not only had he said that he was sorry, but he’d wanted to do something for her to show her how sorry he was. He’d done some research, which meant he’d spent twelve hours straight in the library. James, forever the mother hen of the group, was far from pleased to find out that he’d missed two whole meals, so naturally, that had led to him lecturing poor Remus on the importance of eating properly. He argued that that it doesn’t matter that it’s for love, you need to eat, for Merlin’s sake, which was saying something when you remember how James was a closeted romantic himself. He’d eventually found a spell that was a variant on the translation spells Peter was rather fond of for uncomplicated pranks. Usually with those spells, you speak whatever you mean to say in English, but when it comes out, everyone hears the language you’re cursed to speak. This one, however, worked with sign language; he would say what he wanted to say, and his hands would automatically sign what he’s saying. It didn’t solve everything, he still had to keep studying the language so he could understand Idania, but it was a sure start, and a massive help for the both of them. According to Remus when he’d returned to tell us how it went, she’d been so grateful that she’d almost started crying, though she denied it every time we asked her about it.

While I had been simultaneously amusing and horrifying my friends with mental images of Remus doing unholy things, Sirius had been on a mission to find him, and seemed to have returned triumphant. At some point, he must have left the room even though I had no memory of seeing him leave, as he was now dragging Remus behind him by the hand, who was dragging Idania somewhat gentler. “I found them!” he proclaimed with a stupid grin on his face, in a way similar to how a child would announce such a thing.

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock,” Peter muttered with no actual malice behind his words.

“You’re welcome, Pete,” Sirius bowed but then stumbled forwards, crashing headfirst onto the ground. He didn’t bother getting up, choosing to sit cross-legged on the floor once he got his bearings.

Lily plonked herself down next to him and gazed at him quizzically, “Why are you saying, ‘you’re welcome’, when you’re the one who wanted to know where they were?”

He covered her mouth with his hand to prevent her from speaking, “Shhh, Lily-flower, shhh.”

She scowled at him while Marlene mouthed ‘Lily-flower’ at me in confusion. I just shrugged, desperately trying not to laugh at James who was clearly dying of embarrassment while trying to hide from Lily. We once heard him murmur the nickname in his sleep during our second year, and even though he hasn’t said it since, we refused to let him forget it. Lily must have licked Sirius’s hand or something for he retracted his hand as quickly as he would if he’d had an electric shock, wiping it on his trousers while staring at her in disgust and betrayal. Lily didn’t show an inch of sympathy towards his pain.

“So, what were you two actually doing?” Dorcas asked, directing the conversation back to Idania and Remus.

Idania smirked evilly and looked up at Remus, looking awfully glad that she didn’t have to be the one to explain. I still thought they hooked up finally, but Remus didn’t look nearly as mortified as I imagined he would.

Remus opened his mouth to speak but Lily cut him off, “I can smell weed.”

“How the fuck do you of all people know what weed smells like?” I laughed.

She glared at me in a way that had me quaking in my heels, “Please, you know what Cokeworth’s like, so you can trust me when I say I know what weed smells like.” I had to give it to her, that town wasn’t exactly the poshest in the UK, and I would know seeing as I used to live in the damn place.

We locked eyes for a second, then slowly looked up at Remus and Idania’s slightly guilty but overall chilled-out faces.

Well shit.

Once it clicked in my head as to what they had been doing, I started giggling uncontrollably for a good minute, and everyone else started looking at me really worriedly. I can’t say I blamed them if I’m honest, I did look like something of a lunatic. I quickly put the spell that Remus had found on myself, suddenly feeling really bad that Idania probably didn’t have much of an idea of what had just been said.

“Idania, how dare you corrupt our sweet, innocent Remus?�� I laughed, shaking my head like a disapproving parent.

“Excuse you, Remus hasn’t been innocent since before he met us,” James grinned lopsidedly.

“I wasn’t that innocent before I met you,” the boy in question tried to defend himself, only to be met with about seven people saying, ‘you were’.

“Anyway, that’s beside the point. The point is you smoked weed?” I asked incredulously.

“Don’t look at me like that!” he said, “It’s not that big of a deal, no one really cares about that kind of thing these days, well not in the muggle world at least. Live a little, Ruth.”

“That doesn’t make it any less weird that it’s coming from you, mate,” James shook his head.

“But here’s the question nobody else is brave enough to ask, apparently,” Marlene raised a finger and then pointed it at the couple, “Is it nice? And if so, may we have some?”

Most of us, excluding Dorcas and Lily, made some sort of noise of agreement to which Remus just laughed, “Well, it’s Idania’s, not mine, so it’s up to her really…” he trailed off, leaving his girlfriend to make up her mind.

I didn’t actually know much sign language, except for the odd word or phrase I’d picked up (naturally fuck off was on of them), but whatever Idania had signed in response put a devilish smirk on Remus’s face that was all too familiar, “I think that’s a yes, just not too much. Ida doesn’t think you’ll be able to handle it.” The girl in question lightly breathed through her nose, which I’d come to learn was her laugh.

I gaped at her with mock outrage on my face, “I am offended but at least I’ll get to try some, right?”

A couple of blunts went round during the next however long we were high for, while Lily and, to some extent, Dorcas looked on disapprovingly. I think it’s safe to say that the concept of time was non-existent for the rest of the night. I have to say it was one of the most relaxing yet insane experiences I’ve ever had, and it wasn’t long until long after it had worn off did I start to wonder how Idania had access to that kind of thing. She must have been even more of a badass than we first thought.

When I had first started holding parties like these last year, I had made an offer to Dorcas which had involved me making drinks that had no alcohol in them but still had the same effect. She’d been grateful for the suggestion, but she’d pointed out that doing that kind of defeats the whole point of not drinking alcohol in the first place. We’d then settled on making non-alcoholic drinks that still tasted like their alcoholic counterparts but had no effect whatsoever, and we were constantly trying different recipes. Word caught soon after we started, and our non-alcoholic drinks were in almost as high demand as the alcoholic black market I’d created with the boys. They proved to be popular among students who either didn’t want to or weren’t allowed to drink, but didn’t want to miss out on a party or something like that, as well as older students who needed a form of stress relief from their exams, but didn’t want to develop some kind of addiction. I couldn’t blame them, seeing as they used to drink a lot as a really unhealthy coping mechanism. I’d much rather they drink something else, so I was glad to have been of service. As you can imagine, the business really boomed around springtime.

“You know, trying to keep track of you all is like herding a load of cats,” she huffed, taking a sip of her not-quite-firewhiskey.

“Hey, Dorcas,” I mumbled in the most serious voice I could muster, which was quite the feat considering I was both drunk and high at that point. She leaned in to listen, only to hear me say, “Meow.”

Her brows furrowed sceptically, “Meow?”

I nodded, not breaking my composure though I desperately wanted to just dissolve into giggles like a child, “Meow. Because you said we’re cats.”

Dorcas sighed with a resigned look on her face,” Sure, Ari.”

A chorus of meows sounded throughout the room, much to Dorcas’s confusion and exasperation. I could only imagine what it must be like to have to deal with all of us unaided when we were like this.

A/N: By the way, I’m not trying to promote the use of drugs, personally I think things like marijuana should be decriminalised but that’s a story for another day. Just to remind you, this is set in 1975 at the moment, which means that drugs were more common, and more people did things like weed. It makes more sense when you consider the context. Also, they’re only human, shit like this happens.

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spongeguyandlelouchvibridankia · 4 years

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Christmas gift for

@freedom-barricades-bighero16

“I hate snow.”

Momakase had spent much of her life in England, way before she turned into the most feared mercenary of San Fransokyo (though how much of that was what she really wanted she still wasn’t sure).

So it came as a bit of a surprise to herself that the statement was actually uttered by the scarred man beside her, the glow from his face illuminating the sky almost as well as the street lamps.

“You hate snow?”

A knife suddenly cut down a branch, snapping it in half.

No reason, really, it was just fun!

Momakase turned to him with a face full of snark. “I would never have guessed.”

Obake sneered. He had no time for such frivolities. In fact, he wasn’t sure why he had agreed to this walk.

“Father, if you never stretch your muscles, you’ll never be able to properly lead your revolution! Also, I’d like some “me” time, and Uncle Globby rented “Cadet Kelly”, so…”

Ah yes. Trina. Why had he built her again?

For a moment, he cringed. That was dark. He knew why he built her. He truly wanted her.

But…

He sighed.

The snow crunched under his boots and Momakase went eerily silent as Obake wondered what was wrong with him.

For the last month and a half, he had been making leaps and stride with his plan: To destroy San Fransokyo and start again, creating a new society born from the ashes, fearless, bold, daring!

An age of geniuses, it would be!

One where the weak and cowardly would be gone, one where only those who dared to attempt would guide the people!

And he would lead them all, a messiah, a savior…

A teacher.

Obake had been dreaming of this for decades, ever since the accident that had freed him.

…Why was he beginning to feel doubts?

“You’re awfully quiet, even for you.”

Oh, yes. She was still here.

Obake let out a breath that floated across the air as the ninja woman besides him smirked once more.

Of the 3 minions he had hired, Momakase was the most competent and least annoying.

Somehow, she still got on his nerves, though.

Globby was infuriatingly friendly, but at least he listened to commands.

Noodle Burger Boy had made the unfortunate assumption that he was Obake’s son, and Obake wasn’t sure how he was going to shut that down after the plan succeeded, but at least he too listened to orders.

But Momakase was different; always arguing back, debating, offering counters to his plans and counter counters to his counters.

For all his life, everyone Obake knew was a step behind him, even the very promising Hiro Hamada.

But Momakase? She seemed to actually keep up.

Obake didn’t know if he should be concerned about that.

All he did know was that the park they had stopped at was way too cold for stopping at.

Looking up, Obake could see that it was totally dark.

No one was around at all, and if his watch wasn’t wrong (and it WASN’T), it was past midnight.

Even saviors needed sleep. Until, of course, he invented a solution for that so he can never stop working.

“I should probably head back.”, he commented, but Momakase was already sitting down.

Turning around, she patted the seat with a cocky grin. “Oh, but I don’t want to miss this view!”

Rolling his eyes, Obake pointed at his watch. “Believe it or not, I have very important things to do. They do not include sitting on a cold bench watching a natural occurrence occur, least of all with you.”

He too attempted a cocky grin, but Momaskase was not giving in.

Making a sort of pouty face, her British accent popping out a little, she retorted. “Oh, I’m sure you can spare us some time!

Obake massaged his temples. Here she was again, ignoring a direct order. If he couldn’t get an underling to cooperate, how was he going to lead the new world order?

“Well, that’s good. You shouldn’t do it…”, a voice whispered, but as Obake turned around, eyes darting for once in surprise and not in boredom, he was actually startled to find no one there.

It couldn’t have been Momakase; who had said it?

Meanwhile, she was still sitting there.

Obake sighed; he didn’t have much of a choice, did he?

“Fine.”, he muttered and he sat down, regretting immediately.

Cold seats were no fun, no matter what your alignment was.

As Obake shivered, Momakase suddenly began to talk in an odd tone.

“You know, I’m not just hired muscle.”

Obake turned to her, annoyed. “I know: that’s the problem. You refuse to listen.”

“I mean…”, she cut him sharply, but thankfully no knives were involved.

She continued. “I mean… You see me as just cattle to lead, like all the rest. But if you want a perfect society, you’re going to have to allow SOME freedom.”

“Oh, this is rich.”, Obake commented, and Momakase raised an eyebrow.

“How come?”, she asked, and he quickly shot back.

“Well, let’s see: In order for me to amass total control of society so that I can guide it properly, I am supposed to allow them to make decisions?”

He stood up, almost surveying his future territory. “Humanity is disappointing: Every time it gets an opportunity to move forwards it chooses to leap back and hide in the dark. Like a cold and wounded animal.”

He almost wanted to retch, it was horrid!

“They are sheep. They need a sheapard to lead them. Guide them.”

He closed his eyes, thinking of the prodigy only he could turn great.

“Mold them.”

His speech finished, Obake sat down, but Momakase just kept on, as if his words meant nothing to her!

“Well, yes and no.”

Obake wanted to argue back, but it was easier to just listen and ignore, so that’s what he did.

Momakase adopted an oddly sentimental face as she spoke, her tone not one Obake was used to from her.

“Most people are trash… But some aren’t too bad. I understand your motivations, but I do think that if you truly want to create a great society, you need to be tough and firm… But also nurturing.”

Obake let out a chuckle, shaking his head, despite a small voice still bugging him in his ear. “Really? You, the killer ninja, is lecturing me about nurture? About giving people a chance?”

Obake had not expected this from Momakase, but it was actually the knife that surprised him most.

“You don’t know anything about me. I’m not just a killer. I’m… I’m…”

Her growl was slowly replaced with hesitation. With doubt.

Layers she had hid for long were threatening to reveal themselves.

Withdrawing the knife, she sat down again and sighed.

“I am more than a killer. Besides…”

She sighed, the cold very much bothering her now.

“I only did it once. And I’ll never do it again.”

It was almost like a child, her apology. One could not help but feel a tinge of sympathy, even Obake.

Wait, that doesn’t make sense, he’s not supposed to, what’s going on?

Whatever.

It will all clear out soon.

Must be the weather. Stupid snow.

“I… I see.”

Silence reigned as Obake wondered what had he gotten himself into and Momakase began to reminisce.

“You know… It’s funny…”

“What is?”

Momakase felt the knife in her hand, but she was caressing it for once.

“Christmas is always presented as such a joy… But I’ve only had one good one.”

Obake didn’t like talking about Christmas, but not for some cliché villain reason: In fact, his only real memory of it was one he didn’t want to visit for very unexpected reasons.

But Momakase wasn’t stopping.

“Every Christmas, I go out and perform some kind of job… Every Christmas I ended up getting hurt in some way, be it a fight or…”

She clutched herself. Whatever it was, it was something she wouldn’t lightly share.

“But… One time… It ended nicely.”

Obake didn’t want to ask, but he found his voice box emitting forighn sounds.

“How so?”

Momakase looked at the night sky, feeling almost safe.

“I was sent to rob some florist by some mobster with a stick up his arse…”

Momakase in the past leapt down silently and crept in to the store, ready to make with the stealing.

“…I made a different choice…”

The woman managing the store was not being handled in a way fitting a person.

This of course, was what happened to her attackers.

Picking her up, Momakase felt an odd surge. She had done something good.

This would end up badly, she would have to keep her tracks low to avoid any attacks from her boss and…

“Th…Thank you…”, the manager said, a weak smile as she looked up at her rescuer.

Momakase couldn’t help but smile back. It was worth it.

A few minutes later, finding herself under mistletoe, it became even more worth it…

“…I never saw her again, she didn’t need to be burdened by me.”

A longing sigh.

“But… I can’t help but wonder what if…”

Obake was surprised at the frankness of his worker.

Why on earth had she opened herself up for?

Even worse…

Why was he about to do the same?

“I…”

No. Don’t do it.

“I…”

No! You are not her friend, not her confidante!

“I…”

NO! YOU ARE THE SAVIOR! YOU CAN’T CONFIDE! YOU CAN’T!

But for once, a small voice that had been quiet for decades opened up.

“I too… Had one good Christmas.”

Momakase turned with a startle, and observed her boss with new eyes. “Obake, sharing something from himself?”

She sat with her arms under her chin, now VERY interested.

“DO share, love!”

Obake wanted to hit himself for being so dumb, but it was too late…

“It was before… Before I found my vo… Came up with my plan.”

Obake didn’t say much… He would not reveal it all…

But Momakase could fill in the blanks.

“…Back when I was at SFIT, I much preferred staying in my dorms, especially in Christmas. I didn’t take the home for the holidays option… I found my lab much more warm anyway…”

What was he doing?

“And… One Christmas… Just a few months before…”

He pointed at his glowing face.

“…This… I found my privacy invaded.”

He was doing something insane! He had to stop!

But…

Somehow…

He also didn’t want to stop.

“I had always known Professor Granville to be an astute mentor… At least, until she grew cold feet…”

Why did that not feel as assured as ever?

“But I must admit…”

Bob Aken’s sunken eyes had never seen such a spread.

Certainly not back home.

Surely no one could calculate what was more enticing: The basted turkey or the frosted chocolate cake!

But even a teenager like Bob couldn’t help but look at the present under the tree.

…Had she done all this for him?

The green and red lights flickered as he entered her lab, feeling oddly warm despite the storm outside.

Standing with her hands clasped, Professor Grace Granville feigned surprise. “Well! It seems as if someone has mistaken my office for my house back in Shimammoto street!”

A fake sigh, and she sat down. “Well, I can’t let all this go to waste!”

A twinkle in her eyes. It haunted him.

“Would you care to join me? I surely can’t finish all this by myself, Robert.”

Bob stammered.

Kindness had not yet been discovered by him.

“Are… Are you sure?”

An outstretched hand turned an hour later into a hug.

“I would be honored…”

“…”

Obake stopped talking.

He stood up.

“I must go. I have a long day tomorrow.”

Momakase too began to leave, but she smiled at him.

“You know… Perhaps you really are the villain of this story…”

She smiled as she leapt into the night and disappeared into the alleyways.

Her words continued to echo as he walked down the street.

“…But I feel like deep down, there’s a person behind the Obake…”

Obake sighed, wondering what was wrong with him.

He was the savior of his city, the one who would free it of it’s limitations, the one whose name would go down in history!

But as he walked on the snow, Obake was feeling that someone who he thought was dead was coming back.

And if Bob Aken was still alive…

Then who was he?

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baekthecorgi · 7 years

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fight me (baekhyun) part iii. word count: 1479 w. genre: fluff, series summary: you landed a babysitting job in desperate need for money. it was going great until you met his older brother or should you say your high school enemy.

part i. part ii.

It’s been four days since you’ve stepped foot on the Byun’s residence. The last four days wasn’t that bad as you expected it to be. If you remove Baekhyun out of the picture, at least. Good thing your mornings and afternoons were spent with Jaemin. Sometimes you helped him with his homeworks, but most of the time he’ll refuse your offer. “I’m a big boy,” he reasons out.

On the other hand, your sorry ass had to endure Baekhyun’s presence in the evenings. It’s a good thing both of you were graduating students and this semester, he’s busy writing his thesis paper. Normally, Baekhyun comes home after you’ve watched the eight o’ clock news.

Nonetheless, coming home late doesn’t give Baekhyun enough of an excuse to act obnoxious around you.

Baekhyun is a pain in the ass.

He always teased you, bringing back memories from your high school days. How you were a huge sucker for Chanyeol. How you looked hilarious stepping out of the classroom with a paper taped on your back, the words ‘I got second place again.’

“Ha-ha, very funny,” you say, rolling your eyes then elbowing his stomach extra hard. “See? This is why we can’t meet in the middle. I’m trying so hard to be a fucking adult and you, you’re pissing me off.”

“I believe that’s my role in your life, sweetheart.” Baekhyun sends you a wink.

“Seriously? Sweetheart? That’s gross.” You try to avert your attention back to the variety show you’re watching but Baekhyun finds the courage to slide closer next to you.

His taunting smile irritates your every cell. “Why is it gross, honey?”

You can see how unbelievably close Baekhyun’s face is from your peripheral vision. “Fuck off, Baekhyun.”

“Threatening me aren’t you, kitten? How sweet.”

The way his tongue rolled out the word kitten made your knees weak for some reason. You can feel Baekhyun’s warm breath hit your cheek. Shivers ran down your spine at the lowness of his voice.

Grabbing the lamp beside you, you firmly grasp it before retracting your arm. This was enough warning for the latter to reach the nearest throw pillow, using it as a shield. “I swear to god, Baekhyun! I will repeatedly hit you with this lamp right here and make it look like it’s suicide if you don’t stop with the fucking pet names!”

Instead of cowering in fear, Baekhyun responded with his high-pitched laughter that echoed across the living room. Before you knew it, Baekhyun was laid back on the couch while you straddled him and repeatedly hit him with the throw pillow he was holding.

The bastard was enjoying this little play of yours. Soon enough, you stopped your violent actions and he put a hand on his stomach as he continued laughing.

You hated to say it but you were enjoying it too. The sound of his mellifluous laughter flowing through your ears like water. It sounded angelic and you were pretty sure you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world to make his laughter stop.

And his eyes.

His beautiful eyes that were full in the middle and curved downwards towards the edge. His eyes that gave you a soft gaze. His eyes that squinted whenever he plays a joke on you. His eyes that just exudes with overflowing happiness since the beginning.

“Baek?” You breath out. Not sure if it was from exhaustion or if you were simply out of breath from scrutinizing his features.

“Yeah?” He hummed in response.

For a split second, both of your eyes locked as if wanting to send a message to the other. But you realized your position and you awkwardly shuffled away from his presence, not even bothering to turn back.

You close your eyes as soon as you entered the kitchen. What’s going on with me?

“Wait, don’t fucking–”

You slap Baekhyun’s hand away from the cart as soon as he drops the box of Lucky Charms inside and disappears at another aisle. You holler, “We have a budget, you brat!”

“But noona, I like Lucky Charms,” Jaemin pouts, tugging the hem of your blouse. His doe eyes slanting along with his pouty lips. Of all the traits he has to acquire from his brother, why was it aegyo?

Squatting down to his level, you pinch his cheeks. “Then we’ll get it for you, angel.”

“I thought you didn’t like pet names?” Baekhyun asks, his brow raised at you. He dumps different junk foods in the cart.

“Go away Baekhyun, you’re being annoying.” You pluck out the junk foods he placed only to be shoved back again. Swatting his hands away, you shouted, “Will you stop that?”

Baekhyun steps on the metal grill below the cart to make it halt. He tilts his head slowly, “Not until you answer my question first.”

“Fine. I don’t like pet names directed to me. Everybody happy? Everybody’s happy. Now, move.” You shove Baekhyun out of the way and remove the junk foods from the cart.

Just as you were nearing the end of the aisle, most of the items on your list were ticked off. Startled by the noise, you lift your head to see Cheetos, Lays, and Ruffles being thrown in a projectile motion. Guess where it landed?

The cart.

“Three points for Number Four, Byun Baekhyun!” Jaemin shouts, jumping excitedly in his place, amazed. Amazed by his older brother’s three point shot or as Baekhyun likes to call it cart shot.

Baekhyun cheered along with Jaemin. It looked like a preschooler and a twenty-three year old with a heart of a preschooler bouncing like idiots together.

Crossing your arms, you can’t help but smile at the two’s enthusiasm. You whisper to yourself, “That’s my idiot right there.”

Oh boy, it has been a long time since you’ve claimed something as yours.

You patiently waited for Baekhyun outside the male’s comfort room. You were done with the groceries and were already heading back home when Baekhyun had to use the comfort room. You would have left him in the mall, to be frank, but it sucks not having a driver’s license and the inability to drive.

Focusing on Jaemin playing with the fountain, you were surprised when he sprinted to your direction. You stumbled back a little on the impact. Jaemin hid behind your stature.

You question, “What’s wrong, Jaeminnie?”

“M-My…My,” Jaemin tries to form coherent words inside his head. Instead, he pointed a little girl wearing pink fairy wings approaching the fountain.

“Isn’t that Jisoo?” You squint your eyes at the direction he was pointing.

Jaemin gulps nervously. “Yes. She’s my. S-She’s my…”

“Aww, she’s your crush!” You gasp, clasping your hands together. It was adorable how little kids try to hide their crushes.

“But she likes another kid. That boy Doyoung from another class. She said Doyoung looks cool but he’s really a bully.”

Baekhyun exits the comfort room to find you talking to Jaemin comfortably. He was taken aback when you left Jaemin but within a matter of minutes, you were back holding a cone of strawberry ice cream.

He was tempted to eavesdrop since the mall’s kinda noisy and people were buzzing everywhere. Baekhyun leaned in a little closer just enough to hear the conversation between you and Jaemin.

“Give this to her. It’ll make her happy,” you say, handing the little one the cone.

His eyes sparkled at your words. It makes him wonder how you always knew the right words to say. Still, he liked that attribute about you.

“Doyoung gave her the fairy wings. I don’t think ice cream is gonna make her happy.”

“Trust me, it will. I’ll tell you a secret,” you scoot over to Jaemin. He listens carefully as you whisper an advice to approach the girl.

“You can do it, Jaeminnie!” You pumped your fists as Jaemin walked towards his crush.

Baekhyun found himself plastering a goofy grin on his face when Jaemin ran back to you. Baekhyun can hear the thumping of his heart the moment you enveloped Jaemin with a warm hug. Your hugs seemed so warm and inviting that he was tempted to switch places with his little brother.

Baekhyun laughs at the sight of your enthused nods as Jaemin spills everything. He could hear his little brother’s rants on how his crush hugged him, thanking him for the ice cream. And how you were the best noona he could ever have.

Inside Baekhyun’s mind, maybe Jaemin was right.

You may be the best thing he could ever have.

note: it’s been a long time since i updated the series ;; im sorry im so stressed with school it’s taking it’s toll on me and i’ve had writers block since god knows when. honestly, im so stressed. i should be studying for an exam right now but i decided to finish the third part in one sitting. anyway, i received so much love for this series! thank you!!! keep on dropping by my ask box. it motivates me to write more. i love yall <3 | masterlist

#exo #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #fight me series #exo k #exo m #kpop #exo oneshot #exo scenario #exo imagine #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #kpop oneshot #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun oneshot #na jaemin #nct #nct dream

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a-writer-and-musician-words · 5 years

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11/30/18, 2:41 PM

THE HEAVY-HANDED CLINICIAN BY TIMOTHY JOSEPH GEISINGER

In a place far beyond the outer reaches of my memories, I grasped no uncertain realities: the thin-bearded, heavy-handed clinician, over the innumerable years, had done his best to kill me. In the year 1968 when the Vietnam conflict as it was dubbed burned grooves of pain and loss into my synapses. The synapses fired less often during that tragic year. Many young, heroic men sacrificed their lives for a cause that the common army soldier failed to comprehend. The D.C. Hawks composed top secret documents and used a variety of colored chalk lines on forest green chalkboards one after the other to strategize, to deploy troops and to hopefully win an unbeatable guerilla warfare far from the states, far from home. Young wives expected their newlywed husband and often newly minted father to return soon enough, after having given everything for the US patriotic cause; to rush laughingly with a great sense of relief into their waiting arms and to scoop up off the stony earth their never forgotten son, or daughter, their young family practically swooning over their homemade hero back from the overseas war. It didn’t work that way though, not exactly. The twenty somethings who were often the grunts, the privates, the guys who were assigned KP, peeling bag after bag of Idaho russet potatoes while cursing the upper echelon that brought him to a degraded part of a foreign land muttering that “This damn place is the worst, so f-In unfair.

Unjust.” Maybe the young husband and dad to Hillary and Frank, maybe he wasn’t far off. It was an unjust war, wasn’t it? The D.C. Hawks, they held all the cards and close to their vest at that! They were the old, entrenched men who sacrificed little, standing pointing and drawing on blackboards, deploying troops here and there, to take a bloody hill, or else maybe to charge a hidden enemy encampment, or else to retreat, hopefully to safety. Not always.

What was safe about being shot at by sniper fire from Chinese exported AK47s with seemingly endless ammunition control and a little boy or girl who sobbing walks easily into the midst of the longing men, who are safely behind their own lines; yet the little foreign kid has a live grenade tucked neatly in the elastic band of their cotton underwear? Seemed like an innocent kid, just needed some help. Maybe I should have been more loving. Maybe we shouldn’t trust any of the Viet Cong people. After all, we’re the invaders. This is their homeland. What right do we have to be here? Miranda, my wife, older by five years, and a baby on the way, me longing for hearth and home, barely out of Basic. I need her. And I love her. The really important thing, though, is that I know she loves me and we love baby on the way. I wanted to name her Zoe; that is if she’s a girl and Zak if he’s a boy. She wants to name her Molly, kind of because her name also begins with the letter M. But also because of our shared child’s song, a made famous Irish melody: “Cockles and Mussels” (Molly Malone). Both of us, though we didn’t meet until being in the same English essays class at the local community college, loved that song. Yet, we loved the song in a unique way; almost as unique as if we are snowflakes, not accumulated snowfalls. Miranda told me, actually, she sung Molly Malone to me, sonorous alto vocal but upbeat, in my elder parents’ living room in Kent, Washington; though we had moved there only for a short while when I was two because my dad was offered a position as an apprentice mechanical drafter for a start-up called THE LAY-OUT. Miranda has the kind of singing voice that even thousands of miles of separation I can hear as if we again are in my parents’ living room on that fated afternoon.

“Miranda, play the song again. I want to sing it with you,” I said. “You knew the song?” She looked wistfully at my clear blue eyes.

“Yeah. I’m surprised you never knew that. I can’t play guitar like you, but I can keep a melody.” I almost nudged her free shoulder in ply.

“I don’t doubt that. Okay.” Then she strummed the first guitar chord and we sang. Miranda and I and now the baby inside her womb. We are singing a song, a duet. We are singing of our shared love, about being newlyweds, about being the lovebirds others have rightfully called us, of our future together, of the eventual birth of Zoe, Zak or Molly or Mark John, or whomever he would be. We were hopefully going to know…together, hand clasped in hand, lips locked mouth to mouth. Resuscitated. Life gifted to dry dead bones. But, now. Damn.

Miranda I cried. I miss you. I am kissing your waiting mouth, pouty pink, swollen lips. I am tightly holding onto your hand because…I think I may never get back, back to you, back to our unborn child, back to the United States of America, back to the life we are destined to share together. As it is written in the legal marriage decree: “Till death do we part. Never leave nor forsake you. I promise Miranda to love and to hold you…” Oh God, why? I know it was me, maybe it was all me. I was the one who wanted to fight for the safety of the Chinese threat upon These Our United States of America. What if, just as in December 1941, the Japanese kamikaze pilots bombed the unsuspecting aircraft carriers and the defenseless Honolulu medical facilities because they could – sent by the Japanese Emperor Hiro, himself, as a formidable military invasion the likes that no one has experience so horrifically since? That was my overwhelming concern; for the lives of my wife and our unborn child, but also for the security of our vulnerable nation. Really, I don’t like that I am an idealist. I want to be practically minded like a business executive bent on amassing wealth and securities for the company he works for yet secretly desires to one day overtake the whole operation, become the new CEO, own more than fifty percent of the company’s shareholdings and expand, expand far into his stocks-controlled company, newly renamed to fit his agenda, and to make room for his ascendancy. Just like a monarch ruling in the 13th century, replete with a court jester (who could have been me) and nobles, feudal lords, thin, beautiful maidens, plenty of cows, several Bantam roosters, and more animals than even he wanted to number. Horses to ride as freely as he saw fit across the wide expanse which was from the royal stables to the outer lands, all under his watchful eye; the nearby smaller, conquered kingdoms making tribute. I digress.

I am an idealist, but I’m not hopeful. My nearest and dearest friend, the one who helped me through the obstacles course, I couldn’t have even graduated without his constant help and his care toward what then was only another soldier in Basic training, at dusk last night was shot clean through his Adam’s apple. Ironic. I don’t say curse words, not usually, but Shit! Alvin Yeltser is worm food. I know I’m being a bit graphic, but so is war. All wars are graphic in nature, not for little eyes and ears...that is, unless the little eyes and ears are attached to the kids who uncontrollably sob, finding an easy way into the base camp, where we all are relaxed, some of us smoking a Marlboro straight, some of us shooting the shit. And then, before anyone is able to prevent the tragic thing you can hear in the silent overly humidity in view of a green grove of bushes and trees overgrown and waiting like an African tiger to pounce on an unsuspecting weary, old, gray elephant getting a drink of water at the local watering hole. You can hear a pin drop! BAM.

The surviving company, a hodge-podge of army green canvas shirts and pants, that’s all any of us are over here, a bunch of selected numbers – by the D.C. Hawks, we, me included are on pickup duty. It was worse, way worse than scrubbing dirty potatoes and slicing them by hand using our army knife. Way more disgusting! Who in their right mind would volunteer for this kind of essential duty? I have never fully been in my right mind. I used to see a thin- bearded male, the one who I call the heavy-handed clinician. It was he who suggested I complete the many self-assessments, various personality and IQ tests, a whole battery of them. Yet it was also he that strongly suggested I am slightly off my rocker. He threw the clinical psychiatric diagnosis straight in my face. The three connecting words which would define most of the following years to today felt like shell shock. “I believe you have what we in the field call Schizo-affective disorder.” I wondered, what the hell is that? Dr. Cavanaugh went on to explain as if he heard my thoughts. “You have some separation from reality, perhaps because of the effects of trauma or perhaps from your parents’ genes, perhaps a combination of both.” I interrupted his next words. “If that’s the schizo- part, than what does ‘affective’ mean?” He smiled weak and wan and said, “I was getting to that. Affective for you means that you have Bipolar I as opposed-” I was growing uneasy. “As opposed to what, Dr. Cavanaugh?”

“As opposed to Bipolar II,” he finished the sentence. Then he stared at my face searching for a connection with my downcast eyes. The tan rug seemed to swallow me up in my fear.

“Reggie. I will help you overcome this illness if I am able. I will at the very least help you to manage its symptoms.”

“So what are the symptoms?”

“Like I began to say, the schizoid tendencies you seem to have lead you to believe what is false is real and perhaps what is real is false. Your grip on reality is not tight and mostly unshakeable like most people. This may have been caused by the extensive physical, sexual, verbal and other emotional abuse you received as a young child, you told me about, that originated with your family, mostly at the hand of your parents. The Bipolar I also known as manic-depressive illness “mixed states” is a tough one. Sometimes your illness will appear very much like Attention Deficit Disorder or ADHD and sometimes you feel as though you are on the Top of The World – you’ll start many exciting, evocative creative projects but you will get distracted and hardly ever be able to finish anything you have begun; whether a short poem, a story or the lyrics of a love song that Miranda would desperately like to hear, the Siren Song will almost always capture you and unfortunately, destroy the very essence of you; that is, unless you take the prescription for medicine I am writing down for you. Here. Any comments, questions or concerns, Reggie?”

“I don’t know anything about Lithium, or this other one, Navane – what are they exactly?”

“The Lithium is meant to be taken to control your rollercoaster-like mood swings. The Navane will help you to focus on the important things in life; not to be distracted by every enticing offer; to help you have a symptom management tool. Really, that’s all Lithium and Navane the neuroleptic are.”

That was the first time I had heard the word ‘neuroleptic.’ Instead of asking Dr. Cavanaugh its meaning I engendered an educated guess. I thought the “neuro” is defined as the brain like in neurology, the study of the brain. I guessed that –leptic like the word epileptic meant seizure, but I was puzzled as to how a “brain seizure” was going to help me manage or overcome my schizo-affective disorder symptoms.

I was to hear the fateful word Schizoaffective; not only that poisoned idolatrous, highly misunderstood and over used word, but Paranoid Schizophrenic, Narcissicism, BiPolar Classic 1 with psychotic features? Really, what? How can a mental illness, disorder, malady, dysfunction, set of character defects, have to do anything with a good thing like “features?” Who is the crazy one then. Maybe the psychiatric-medicine-prescribing CNP or psychiatrist? Maybe they are the ones who’s has a head that needs to be examined.

No doctor even seemed to pick up on the obvious: I am a survivor of guerilla warfare! I am one paranoid son of a “B”. I crouch at the sudden noises all around me. I hit the spring grown grass lawn or the stony ground so D’m’ed easily I am used to lying down on the job; so used to seeing life from a lower point of view as if I might be a dog. Oh, I am. A war dog, hence the dog tags hanging around my neck. The last ID in the theater, to be picked off so easily just like my war buddy recently killed, stricken to death by a clean shot driven through his young man’s Adam’s apple. !968. A sucky year. The year of my eventual demise. the lost year as I would come to know it as.

1968. The Lost Year in a Lifetime of Years.

My wife thinks I may be crazy, more crazy than the effects of PTSD from motherly neglect and fatherly hitting and punching. Why do you think I went into the army in the first place; it wasn't for my better health. I joined the army to get away from my parents. The only thing is I went deep into a worser situation. I can barely make sense of the war. Why am I here fighting a people I don't understand, who peek in and out of the bushes with a sniper rifle butt. And continually use little girls and boys to blow my buddies to kingdom come. I'm having a hard time acclimating to civililian life. I can't understand beyond the war. So many good guys have died. The whole thing troubles me.The Congs some not so nice guys call em gooks - they're not to blame. We were the invaders, attempting to overtake them in their home territory. They weren't kind. But war is hell: flame throwers, sniper shots to the head, grenade pins dropped unaware. There weren't jet strafing except by the US; but their was warfare on the ground that was nearly matchless. The pain inflicted on the US ground forces was not to be overestimated. The misery of head wounds and exploded limbs unparalleled.

I want Miranda but she is slipping from my grasp. She told me she doesn’t want to deal with my head wounds anymore. I tell her I was never shot in the head. She says, “That’s not what I mean. You are so broken. You can’t even forgive your Mom and Dad. Reggie, they did the best they could. I know you’ve heard that so many times but it’s true. I never meant to cause you harm. They didn’t either. You need to forgive them their inadequacies, for every mistake they ever made raising you, or, I won’t be with you. Your unforgiving attitude of them is a poison I won’t put up with.” I cried, “Miranda, hon’ I will get over the pain. Some day. The war killed me. It killed us.” Miranda faced me then as fully as she could, with enough tears in her eyes, to start a small river. “The war killed us.” The recognition of the fact made my head swim. Tears flowed and I looked over at Zoe who was shaking a plastic rattle while she stood braced up against the side of the foldable crib. “Zoe,” I murmured. I knew Miranda was going to leave me and that she would gain full custody of Zoe was likely too. After all I was a mess. Miranda was the sane one. She had the full time job. She owned the condominium. She paid for our only vehicle, a Ford Aerostar. That she worked as an elementary education instructor meant a lot to me. I earned government disability. It’s true I should be working and taking care of Miranda and Zoe. It is no excuse, well it probably isn’t an excuse, that the Viet Nam War inflicted more than just physical wounds and there were some of those. The psychological wounds were like deafening sounds of machine gun fire.

You aren’t telling me what to think. I have to break out of the bonds I was put in. Maybe I put myself in some of my bonds too. I do feel. Like I blame myself for some of who I am today. I want to lay down and curl myself into a tight ball. I want to sleep throughout the night and into the next day and throughout the night again. I could make a sport of it.

Laughter follows the pain which melts the brain.

Inconsequential doings

Closeted fears as bullets whirr

Don’t touch me there,

It’s my private parts -

Mommy said never let a stranger near.

I don’t know why I am writing this book. I have not published anything of significance yet. This book is mostly nonfiction - memories get garbled, facts get skewed. I cannot start with the beginning though I am tempted to do so. The beginning, my beginning, was so depressing, so oppressive. How can that be? Are not the moments in the womb warm and fuzzy, loving and relaxing? Well, no, not really. My mom and dad were at odds with one another. My mom’s ‘happily ever after’ dream had been smashed by her supposed white knight in shining armor. But that’s the beginning. I want to begin the story somewhere in the middle. The days of personal anguish when a biochemical brain disease was issued forth from the cosmos or God, pulsating throughout an unsuspecting body, with a name, schizoaffective disorder. Ugh.

Climbing stealthily into the gnarled oak tree, branches splayed in several directions I felt like kid superman. My Lois Lane at my side. I may have been six but I knew then that I would love her, the girl next door, for the rest of my life. I wasn’t crazy like Anthony Padua the boy who must have thought he could fly like Superman and jumped from his Dad’s third floor tenement house, a rental he had in South Chicago.

There was almost always something nuts going on in Chicago, even then. The Valentine’s Day Massacre occurred in Chicago. Gangsters littered the streets. A big fire practically burned the whole town down. But Chicago only got worse. The big town became a place I wanted to visit but never live there. Now Shy Town is a place I wouldn’t even want to visit: gunshot soaring through the air, night and day. Kids getting knifed. Bomb threats made good in elementary schools. Just like Gotham City, The Windy City needed a superhero. I am glad that I never moved to Chicago. My parents were as afraid of the big town on the Michigan River just as much as me. Maybe they were afraid for me.

Who will be Chicago’s savior? I decided to start a superhero gym of sorts. I live in Minneapolis, a Minnesotan mid sized town hundreds of miles north of Chicago. I knew Chicago needed superheroes to save its neck or Chicago would be underwater; not only would the city get a bad reputation that it couldn’t live down, no one would want to visit it, its tall skyscrapers, its stock and exchange building, its cool Lake Michigan waters.

“Lois?”

“Clark.”

I reached across a thick branch and touched her arm. “Its about time time to come down, don’t you think?”

“Yeah I suppose.” She smiled toward me and carefully embraced the trunk, sliding part ways down.

The years have gone strongly by. The autumnal leaves dropped from upward tree branches. Icy winters after their own fashion. Springy springs with the first Robin and its delicate light blue eggshell. Summer with the whirring of gluey green grasshoppers and garden toads, green frogs and painted turtles by the reeds and the slimy rocks.

There was the usual. Barbells. Chest strengthener. Chin up stations., even a swimming pool, albeit 10 by 20.

“Miranda, where are you, my love?” “Have I been bad because I lost my temper with you and Zak.”

“Reggie, I don’t know if I can ever forgive you. I love you but from very far away. Don’t follow me. You wouldn’t know where to look anyway. Give up on an Idyllic married life. I can’t let you see the kids. You scare them. You may not mean to but all the same. We’ll love you from a distance. Again don’t chase us down. You won’t easily find us. Good-bye.”

Those are the last words I heard in Miranda’s voice coming from somewhere inside of me; yet, I know those words to be true. I need to get to the gym and workout. I think I hate myself - for what I did to the two kids more than anything else, but also for destroying my already fragile marriage. Vietnam did me no favors.

Even so, Miranda was never to be blamed, not for separating from me after I returned from Vietnam, nor feeling burned out. Mental illness will do that to you.

The devil is Faust’s unwanted friend, drilling holes into his weakening soul.

And Faust lately has been ironically on Miranda’s mind, caught up in the grey edges of her ever titular mind. Maybe because her soon to be ex-husband was lost in the etchings of the Vietnam conflict, that which almost singlehandedly destroyed him. She didn’t know that he is a super hero. He barely knew it himself.

Chicago is not easy for him or for Miranda. His psychiatrist was not easy with Zak either, but that was okay. It had to be okay. Memories of Miranda and more importantly his faith in Christ had to sustain him, empower him to save others. He couldn’t be a super hero not without his faith.

Yet thank God that Miranda left him when she did and left him - left me, where she did. Saint Paul, Minneapolis. The frigid air surrounding me in the late Fall early winter. Before the wintry bitterness sets in for those creatures who desire a longer Fall, less ice and even, less snowfall. To some Minnesota Winters could be equated with the process of dying. I am not extraordinary or am I; yet I long to help, to guide, perhaps even to push people - God’s creatures - into safety, into health.

Miranda left me! Not for another man, but for what she deemed was her sanity. The divorce was messy like a typical divorce, but only because she wanted everything, including sole possession of our kids. I won visitation rights primarily because I had a long history of PTSD coupled with schizoaffective disorder. She plain just did not trust me with our kids, to have close, unsupervised visits. What made me mad was although I wanted to be involved with Daddy daughter events and father son events the court’s decisions fell in her favour.

I wish I could be a great thinker but my brain is mush. Thank God that He still accepts me the way I am, otherwise I don’t know what I would do.

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low-keylonely-blog · 7 years

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ATTENTION!!

hello, I am a 16 yr old white girl from southeastern Wisconsin. very vanilla, I’m aware. in response to my “WANTED: cute boy” post, here are a list of my physical and mental traits, so that you can determine if you would like to talk to me.

PHYSICAL: ☆ 5'6" ☆ brown curly hair, about shoulder length. THICC HAIR. ☆ brown eyes that are lighter in the center (there’s a freckle on the left one) ☆ relatively skinny, not very strong. a bit of a tummy, but I suck in so you’d never notice. ☆ chewed nails. I’ve mostly stopped tho. ☆ braces! w/ rubber bands! somewhere between February 2017 and June 2017 the braces come off and I once again enjoy having a bright and happy smile! ☆ 4 very light birthmarks! the one on my knee looks like an archipelago. ☆ a bit of acne, but only on the forehead. ☆ STRONG BROWS ☆ bigger bottom lip, thinner top lip ☆ pouty, but only bc of braces ☆ large knuckles bc I used to play basketball. if I try, I can make it impossible to let go of my hand, bc my knuckles touch and form a barrier. ☆ tiny wrists. both pop when I turn them one way or the other. ☆ bumps on my arms. it’s genetic. they’re non contagious and not like acne, so popping them doesn’t work. ☆ left tit is a tiny bit bigger than right tit. ☆ relatively high cheekbones ☆ “innie” belly button ☆ weirdly lumpy hips. I’m pretty bony. ☆ legs as long as the sky is blue. ☆ relatively cute butt. not bony. ☆ stretch marks at the top of my thighs, just under my booty. not sure where they came from. ☆ usually bruised knees, especially in summer ☆ scar tissue on left ankle from when my dad dropped a ladder on my foot. it scraped the bone in my leg as it went down, so the scar tissue reminds. ☆ my doctor when I was a baby said I have popsicle toes! the 2nd-4th are double jointed ☆ hyper flexible overall. not as bendy as I used to be, but still pretty bendy. ☆ my dad’s parents were both German, but both were very dark looking for German. therefore, my dad can pass as Italian. it just means I turn dark orange when I tan, and tan very quickly. ☆ some eczema on my chest, but it is cleaning up. ☆ very out of shape. I can not run for more than 20 seconds without wondering if I can stop yet ☆ squishy?? I lack muscles so I’m very comfortable to snuggle, especially bc I’m flexible enough to fit anywhere but squishy enough to function as a pillow, especially my tummy and tits.

MENTAL/EMOTIONAL: ☆ A.D.D. easily distracted. ☆ easily confused, but quick to understand once everything is explained to me. ☆ guilty of savior behavior like you wouldn’t believe ☆ possibly anxious? parents don’t have time to get me diagnosed tho ☆ desperate to please people. I have limits, but I LOVE making people happy. ☆ I’m rlly fuckin funny ok most of my jokes are specific to my close friends or my childhood but once I’m around you for more than 3 months I’m rlly rlly funny bc we have memories together and I know you well ☆ very paranoid. overactive imagination led to some rlly freaky nightmares as a child, some of which are recurring. ☆ afraid of being forgotten, not good enough, my closet, the dark, inanimate objects coming to life and coming after me (especially doors and anything with legs, like tables and standing mirrors), and being killed in the shower. ☆ easily scared. can’t stand suspense or horror movies. ☆ semi obsessive?? like my friends and my hypothetical potential s/o are so cool and I love them and talk about them often. ☆ redundant. my life is boring. ☆ very very talkative. it’s a little annoying. ☆ easily bored, especially when I want to travel or get sick of how things are going. ☆ kinda rude? but not intentionally? I try to be kind to everyone but sometimes I come off as salty ☆ very passionate ☆ very defensive, especially of friends and s/o, and usually family ☆ loud :-/ ☆ easily excited ☆ interested in what you have to say, but will probably cut you off mid sentence bc my social intuition is lacking ☆ chronic liar >:-( definitely my least favorite trait, but one I haven’t been able to shake. they range from little white lies to just pretending things didn’t happen or that they’re fine. ☆ the last 3 years of my life have absolutely fried my brain. I’m very tired and very wounded. ☆ attaches quickly ☆ separation anxiety, but moreso just afraid of losing people I care about ☆ very self-centered :-/ ☆ relatively bullheaded. I don’t often think things through. ☆ if I have to face the music, odds are I’ll stick earplugs in and run away ☆ usually very positive! the world is a cool place with some very cool people in it!

LIKES: ☆ film, the art of ☆ cry movies ☆ and a bit of Beyoncé, catey shaw, lana del rey, halsey, … ☆ g-eazy, blackbear, childish gambino, frank ocean, watsky, drake, john mayer, sting, mansionz, relient k, one direction (including all solo work), twenty one pilots (but not rlly blurryface), washed out, a bit of fall out boy and panic! at the disco, arctic monkeys, troye sivan, a bit of the 1975, walk the moon, … ☆ the music from downton abbey and victoria and poldark ☆ history, especially sociology and foreign cultures and mythology ☆ politics, even tho I get too heated about it ☆ sci-fi! soft stuff is ok, but the hard stuff is rlly rlly good. ☆ fiction! ☆ writing non-fiction! ☆ slamming biased news outlets (r.i.p. bill o'reilly) ☆ working backstage crew in theater! my sister is majoring in stage management, so it’s a family affair. ☆ plants! flowers, succulents, cacti, even trees and shrubs! ☆ DOGS ☆ my bird, Elsa. we named her after Elsa in frozen bc her tummy matches the color of the character’s dress ☆ slam poetry?? I’m a dork ☆ activism! get out and get loud! ☆ volunteer work, especially through my church (I’m not sure if I’m gonna stay catholic but it’s how I’m being raised rn) ☆ shopping. it’s so satisfying to bring home something beautiful off the clearance rack. ☆ concept art for film and fashion ☆ interior design and architecture ☆ THE PROPERTY BROTHERS ON HGTV ☆ Steven Universe?? it’s actually a rlly good show. it makes me cry a lot. ☆ Grey’s Anatomy. another good cry show. ☆ purple anything. it calms me down. ☆ soft blankets and pillows ☆ laying down for the night. ☆ meditation and yoga! ☆ photography! I live next to the woods on 2 sides of my house, so it’s the perfect place for photoshoots. ☆ coloring books! the pretty ones, not the kids ones. ☆ reading! I’m usually too busy but it’s so nice when I have time ☆ CRYSTALS AND MINERALS AND PRETTY STONES. I have a growing collection, 95% I found on my own. ☆ driving on empty country roads. ☆ swimming, even tho I’m afraid of deep water ☆ hiking! ☆ chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream ☆ purging old clothes ☆ Internet friends! long distance romantic relationships are awful, but the platonic ones are always fun ☆ learning things you never thought possible ☆ speculation lmao ☆ hugs and physical contact ☆ pressure. I enjoy feeling close to things. I sleep with a billion blankets at all times bc I like the feeling of the weight on me ☆ the concept of Atlas in Greek mythology ☆ in depth discussion about almost anything! I love talking to people! ☆ barbecue chicken pizza from California pizza kitchen

DISLIKES: ☆ people who refuse to acknowledge global warming, white supremacy, sexism, or any fault on either end of the political spectrum ☆ unsolicited dick pics ☆ 99% of country music ☆ metal or screamo music ☆ slut shaming ☆ ignorance in any shape or form ☆ watermelon ☆ Brussel sprouts and asparagus and peas ☆ fish that isn’t fried or marinated in bourbon or teriyaki ☆ oranges ☆ bananas ☆ pop music ☆ slapstick humor ☆ most comedic movies (see above) ☆ cleaning ☆ zara larsson ☆ feminists who hate men (girl we are EQUAL not ABOVE) ☆ the fact that the USA does not have separation of church and state ☆ cold weather ☆ sand in my shoes ☆ most movies featuring talking animals (not counting Dumbo, the Lion King, Babar, Finding Nemo, and a couple others) ☆ those who put others down ☆ those who refuse to listen to both sides ☆ the fact that every Earth year the moon moves 2 inches farther away from Earth and it’s eventually going to be flung into space and we’ll never see it again ☆ white males in positions of authority. your turn is over, pal. ☆ Christopher Walken’s face ☆ John Travolta ☆ the entire movie/musical Grease ☆ when radio stations play the same 10 songs all day long ☆ overused slang ☆ dead memes that are still in circulation ☆ repetition from year to year ☆ bad school photos ☆ pineapple on pizza ☆ basic pages on Instagram ☆ dog types that have been bred to the point of inherent or genetic medical issues ☆ carpet that isn’t soft ☆ bad paint jobs ☆ jumbo tattoos. I love the tiny ones you don’t expect to see. ☆ costume jewelry ☆ asymmetry ☆ bad habits ☆ when everything is black and white ☆ when it’s a gray area ☆ the porn industry as a whole ☆ massive corporations as a whole ☆ people who use deadnames or the wrong pronouns on purpose ☆ driving stick ☆ pulling weeds ☆ vacuuming ☆ loud noises (the unexpected ones) ☆ same old, same old ☆ people who don’t bathe often ☆ when my hair grows too long but I can’t get a haircut for weeks ☆ people who won’t try new things ☆ when anything or anyone dies ☆ the feeling of not being in control ☆ not knowing.

feel free to message me if you’re interested! there’s much more, but this is all I could think of for now. congrats if you made it to the end!

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