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eoieopda · 1 year

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interlude: sunrise (myg)

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader | Darksided AU Type: “Morning After” Drabble // Fluff Word Count: .9K Summary: Two years after your first night with Min Yoongi, you wake up next to him in a Parisian hotel. CW: Brief acknowledgement of nudity; Yoongi’s morning voice; devils, tricks, and the prospect of crepes. A/N: Surprise 🥳 This is a drabble that takes place between the events of Foresight and Darksided! A lil snippet of their anniversary trip to Paris (2018,) which is referenced in Blindsided. Just because, you know, I missed these two terribly 🥲

You woke up in exactly the same condition in which you fell asleep: naked, with an exhausted Min Yoongi mumbling through sleep with his cheek smushed against your shoulder and his equally bare body radiating warmth.

His imitation was so spot-on that you had to do a double-take when you saw the sun — the real sun — making itself known through the glass door of the balcony. As it rose, it backlit the Eiffel Tower not far off, leaving a staggering shadow to stand between your hotel and the break of a new day.

With a contented sigh, you melted back into the mattress and wondered how much convincing it would take to keep Yoongi in that bed with you all day. You had grand plans to ingest every carbohydrate you encountered on the Champs-Élysées; but no mille-feuille could ever be sweeter than this. And though it certainly wasn’t home in a literal sense, it sure as hell felt like it, tangled up with your love in soft, white sheets.

Cutting through comfortable silence, Yoongi muttered something unintelligible and startled himself awake. He jolted, eyes still hazy with sleep as he blinked rapidly up at you. The second he registered your startled face so near to his, you felt the tension leave his body. Just as quickly, he melted back into a puddle, collecting near your collarbone.

“Early,” he mumbled through lips too tired for movement. Of course, he wasn’t wrong in his observation. It was early — offensively so — but your giddy heart was already running marathons at the heavy warmth of Yoongi’s morning drawl.

This was, perhaps, your favorite flavor of his voice; molasses slow and ocean deep. Dawn be damned, you were suddenly wide awake.

Whatever Yoongi said next in that perfect, husky tone was unintelligible. In fact, if you hadn’t felt the column of his throat vibrating against your shoulder, you might not have registered speech at all. Suddenly flustered and beyond fond, you tilted your head to glance down towards his face.

His delicate features were half-buried in your hair as it lay strewn about your pillow, but you still caught the crinkle forming above his closed eyes, between his brows. Pensive, he was concentrating deeply like it took all the effort in the world to repeat himself:

“Gonna be a blizzard.”

You pulled your heart eyes away long enough to look back outside. Finding pink dahlias thriving in the late-August air, you had to wonder if Yoongi was sleep-talking; or worse, sun-downing before it’d even had the chance to finish rising.

Umm…

Both theories went out the window when he shifted a little closer, moved the arm draped over your stomach a little further across, and ran the side of his thumb slowly back and forth along the curve of your waist.

So, you’re awake, but I might be dreaming.

That’s when it clicked. You pursed your lips for a moment to fight off a grin; you failed in an instant.

“Oh, that’s right,” you sighed, laying it on thick. You pressed the palm not hidden underneath his pillow to your forehead, “The weatherman did say to expect a half a meter of snow —”

“— and black ice,” Yoongi interjected. Then, he moved just enough to place a kiss at the side of your neck. He kept his lips there long after the tension in them faded out. You suspected that this was a choice and not simply sleepiness that left him motionless.

His breath tickled when he continued his mumbling, “Big wind, too. Just, like, so much wind.”

You were a second away from exploding into giggles, so you pinched your bottom lip between your teeth. You nodded solemnly in agreement, “The most wind. Far too dangerous to go outside today, I fear.”

“Too bad,” Yoongi offered, though he sounded far from displeased.

The tip of his nose chilled the underside of your jaw when he nudged it against your unsuspecting skin; and it, in turn, nudged a tiny peep out of your otherwise locked lips. When he kissed your neck again, his smile was palpable. You shivered when the hand massaging your side switched targets.

His palm was a whisper up your forearm, over your elbow, ghosting beyond your bicep. Yoongi put his weight onto his elbow just in time for his hand to cup your cheek. You followed his lead and turned your face inward as he sat further upright. Blissed, your eyes drifted shut as he leaned in to kiss you properly.

Perfectly, pillowy soft — so inviting that you had to swallow a petulant little whine when he pulled away too soon.

This time, it was your cheek on the receiving end of his thumb’s delicate brush; reflexively blushing cherry blossom pink when his twinkling, half-lidded eyes fixated on your face with all the love in the world.

“Jagi,” he started with a whisper.

With that thoughtful crease returning to the space between his eyebrows, your sprinting heart picked up its pace. If your pulse hammered any louder, the guests in the room next door might’ve called over to complain.

You swallowed, anticipated, “Yes, love?”

He paused before he spoke again as if whatever he said next required bravery he had to summon first. He inhaled deeply. You, on the other hand, were breathless. Time stopped and started over in every second that passed while you awaited his impending question.

“Do you think room service will respond this early?”

They may not have heard your heartbeat next door, but you’d venture a guess that every person in that hotel heard Yoongi’s surprised yelp when you uprooted yourself from underneath him. If they hadn’t, they certainly should’ve noted your growl when overtook him, slinging your leg over him until you had him pinned.

Head caged in between your arms, Yoongi blinked up at you with feigned innocence lighting up his irises, “What? You love crepes!”

“You’re so mean,” you whined, earning a smirk from the trickster beneath you. Your exaggerated pout was supported by every muscle in your face. “Devils like you don’t get crepes!”

His abdominal muscles tensed underneath the weight of your body when he sat up slightly just to kiss you again. As he did, he muttered against your lips, “They do, though —”

Then he kissed you again.

“— and the girl —”

And again.

“— all in due time.”

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hunter-sylvester · 4 months

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Heavy Trip/Hevi Reissu 2018

#my post #heavy trip #hevi reissu #metalhead #multiple gifs #gif #gifs #huntermakesgifs #turo moilanen #xytrax #pasi #lotvonen #jynkky #metal

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ffviirarepairweek · 4 months

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FFVII Rare Pair Week 2024

Urban Dictionary defines rarepair as “A ship or pairing that not many people ship or is very rare to find fanfiction and fanart of. Typically happens within small fandoms or with minor characters.” So what’s your favourite Final Fantasy VII related rare pair? Do you have more than one? Here’s a chance to showcase them and help them move up from being rare! Not all parts of the pairing have to be from FFVII, and you don’t have to do the same pairing or group for the whole week! ** Pairings can be romantic or platonic. ** Below we have a list of prompts for this year. Feel free to be as creative with those as you want to, and take your time working on your entries, but please don’t forget to post them on the right date if you can. (But remember, no matter how late it’s better than never!)

For this event we are using a category approach. You can use the category as a theme for your prompt and the listed items suggested ideas. If none of the prompts give you any ideas, don’t worry! You can create anything you like for the week, provided it involves a rare pair! The goal of the week is to celebrate and share our rare pairs more than to just follow a list. Be it art, writing, mood boards, or even fic recs, just spread the love!

Feb. 16 | Day 1. Weather. Sunshine. Rain. Storms. The weather can create a meaningful moment, or a huge inconvenience.

Feb. 17 | Day 2. Unexpected Challenges. How does your pairing deal with an unexpected challenge? (For example, they come back home from a trip to find the pipes have frozen and they have no running water. Is one of them using the last of the drinking water to save their dying house plants while the other is desperately melting snow to keep the humans alive?)

Feb. 18 | Day 3. Favourite Things. From favourite things about each other to favourite items of clothing stolen to wear around the house (much to the other’s chagrin), or favorite things to do for or with each other.

Feb. 19 | Day 4. Near Death Experiences. For the angst lovers, the whumpers, this could be a true near death experience. For the lighter side, it could be something much less serious but someone is clearly being dramatic for sympathy. 😀

Feb. 20 | Day 5. Free Day/Combo Day. Combo space to mix and match prompts from this year (or a previous year’s list) or go wherever your canoe takes you!

Feb. 21 | Day 6. Events. Holidays, celebrations, traditions. Whether it’s a joyful day like a birthday or one of mourning like a memorial, there are many days throughout the year that bring us together. What’s a day that’s important to your pairing, or a time that brought them together for something that isn’t part of their regular day to day?

Feb. 22 | Day 7. Stories. Stories play a big part in our lives. They inspire, they entertain, they teach. Is there a story that your characters hold dear, or that they recount often to friends (or their kids)? (Or is there a story about your rare pair that you want to recommend to others today?)

Need more inspiration? Our past prompt lists can be found below, and you’re welcome to use any of them!

2023 List | 2022 List | 2020 List | 2019 List | 2018 List

Also, mod Asylos is taking requests for things to write again this year. That’s right, you can get something written for your rare pair, and not just do all the heavy lifting yourself. Send in your requests as an ask any time now up until the end of the event week.

Please remember to include the week’s tag (ffviirarepairweek) within the first 5 tags or else we might be unable to find your work! We will NOT accept/reblog anything containing Character/Ship Hate, so avoid including those in your entries. Also don’t repost anyone else’s work as your own! You are welcome to reblog other’s posts, but credit where credit is due.

You can submit your works on AO3 to the event collection at https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FFVIIrarepairweek

And if you have any questions, don’t be afraid of sending in an ask.

We hope it turns out to be a fun event for everyone!

#ffviirarepairweek #prompts

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ashiemochi · 1 year

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tangerines and oranges - lsk

✠ tangerines and oranges ↳ don't they both taste the same? ➶pairing: ID! Leon S Kennedy x (FEM) Reader ➶genre: angst to fluff ➶Content includes: contemplating suicide, mild mention of sex, super old writing like this shit was written in 2018, some won't make sense and that's okay, might find her/she pronouns instead of you bc my proofreading skills are dogshit <3 ➶WC: 1.9k A/N: short and sweet blurb whilst I work on the smut one!! shouldn't take too long - might post it tomorrow <3

The kettle softly whistled in the background, the sound echoing in the kitchen where you sat. Today was probably one the worst day you had ever gone through. Time itself seemed so slow, stretching ever so widely just to irritate you. It was like nature as a whole was against you just for shits and giggles.

Even the thought of hiring a hitman to take care of you had crossed your mind; just a quick and silent death. You wouldn’t mind seeing God or burning in Hell if it meant you could leave Earth for a bit. You wondered why you were even breathing in the first place.

You didn’t sign up for this Life thing.

Your tired eyes blinked lazily at the tiny eight-legged-demon-from-Hell, unfazed as it just used its freaky long legs to walk along the counter. You would’ve screamed bloody murder, packed your bags, ran out of the flat, and burned it down.

But you didn’t.

Tilting your head slightly at it, your dead eyes bore at it. A question ran through your mind. Was it poisonous, you wondered?

Finally, your mind seemed to slowly rewind everything that happened today.

Your alarm clock decided to give you the middle finger and not ring like it was supposed to, causing you to miss the train to your job. Your stomach continued making grumbling sounds, incredibly disappointed with the fact that it didn’t get its breakfast nor did you have the money to buy lunch.

Your clumsy co-worker had tripped over his shoelaces again, causing your papers to get showered with coffee. Your boss almost popped a vein at how the logo you designed looked more like a tangerine than an orange; you didn’t even get the chance to remind him that they both look the same. While printing out a paper, the printer decided to swallow the paper to oblivion with a big fuck you.

One of your clients was a dick wad of a boomer who has the tendency to remind you each day that technology is killing the environment but then requests another digital painting of his dog.

You lost count of how many times he had requested the same painting of the same dog. Later you learned that he can be forgetful. Hence the constant reminders of how the very evil technology is killing the very innocent generation.

You had forgotten that you had a presentation today and ended up getting scolded by your uptight boss in front of all of your co-workers. That resulted in extra work and a late-night shift.

You wondered if the clumsy co-worker had cursed you since when you got your cup of coffee, you accidentally hit it, sending it all over your clothes.

At night, after everyone had left to go to their warm and lovely homes, you had to stay in the office with your boss and his wife.

Even your headphones couldn’t block out the disgusting, lips-smacking, and probably even skin, noises. You could swear that they would repopulate Earth worldwide if they would stop using condoms.

Your sister called you, telling you that your parents aren’t going to be able to attend this year’s Christmas. You had to redesign the logo again and show it to your boss, who was, unfortunately, three inches deep into his wife when you opened the door.

At that moment in your life, you deeply wished that God would bleach out your eyes or miraculously make you blind.

And God answered your prayer; by making you accidentally set a heavy file on your specs. You cringed visibly at the cracking sound.

Hoping you’d catch the train before the weather would decide to give you a middle finger; you got caught under the heavy rain that soaked you to the bone, making you look like a street rat.

Curse the weather and its indecisiveness.

By the time you had gotten home, your stomach was beginning to ache for food, almost internally stabbing itself.

And there you were, sitting on the counter with your damp sweater and messy, wet hair. Blinking once more, the eight-legged monstrosity had vanished. The memory itself of the day made your body’s function slow even more, making you slump slightly.

Tomorrow was another day and you still had work to do.

Feeling very overwhelmed, your vision blurred with tears behind your cracked specs. Taking in a trembling breath, you brought your hand up to run it through your knotted hair. You winced slightly at a new forming bruise on the back of your head that you had gotten when your head hit the door on your hurried way out of your boss’s office.

The entire universe was against you at this point.

You let out a shaky sigh, hoping that taking deep breaths would assist you with containing your tears, but even that was failing. Oh, how you wished you could just vanish to the ends of the universe.

The sound of keys jiggling and the front door opening caused your heart to skip a beat. His deep and loving voice reached your ears in a floating melody.

You wanted to greet him, but feeling your body aching and it might as well be dead; you just sat there on the counter.

“Y/N, I'm home.”

The lump in your throat would be a dead giveaway if you even utter a simple letter, but then you heard his footsteps getting closer to the lit kitchen. You barely looked at him when he made his presence known.

His smile dropped as his eyes scanned you from head to toe.

Your once soft orange-coloured knitted sweater now had a big dark brown stain. Your black skirt had smears and dots of what seemed like a correction pen. Both of your socks were intact and well, but your left sock wasn’t even attached to your inner belt, making it fall and roll beneath your knee while the other was all the way up your thigh.

Your hair might as well be a birds’ nest and your face was just tired. Not only did that make him worry, but the tears behind your broken specs were now threatening to escape.

“Y/N?” Leon questioned, getting worried by the second.

You only sniffled, taking a deep breath before letting out a small but tight hi, whilst casting your eyes away.

His brows furrowed as he walked into the kitchen, making his way to the counter to put the white plastic bag that he was holding. He seemed as if he was quietly waiting for you to speak out but taking notice of how hard you were gripping the edge of the counter to the point your knuckles would resemble the white of the snow, he knew you were holding back.

“Sweetheart, what happened?”

You could hear the worry oozing from his lips as he moved towards you, trying to take a good look at your face. Your shoulders slightly shrugged as your teeth bit down onto the bottom of your lips, setting your eyes on the kettle.

You didn’t feel like talking at all, only praying that you would get sniped out of this God-awful day. His hips settled between your legs and your tears were just teasing you at this point when his big hands gently cupped your cheeks, making your eyes meet.

His azures immediately softened when he saw the broken and exhausted look etched on your face. A frown reached his lips when he noticed the lightening shape of the cracks in your specs and with the tips of his fingers; he gently removed them, giving him a clear look at your eyes.

You cussed internally when a tear rolled down your cheek, betraying you.

“Honey, did something happen?" Leon asked softly, as if afraid he'd break her, "Why are you crying?”

Your bottom lip trembled as the lump in your throat was getting heavier to swallow. Finally, you looked at him behind the thick walls of your tears and your cheeks flushed red at the close proximity.

“Today sucked so... Fucking bad...” You uttered weakly, your voice seemed to be tight and squeezed.

Leon blinked at this and you broke down, allowing your tears to run freely down your reddened cheeks. Without even hesitating, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close to his embrace.

Your cries were weak and small but filled and etched with pain as your fingers gripped the back of his blue suit jacket. Ever so slowly, his fingers tangled your hair between them, lightly pushing you closer to him.

It seemed like an eternity just being in his arms but you felt incredibly safe and invisible to the world. For once, all your bottled-up emotions for this day were poured through your tears. Even when your tears had stopped, only leaving behind a heaving chest with minor hiccups, you still stayed in his embrace.

“You ready to talk about it?” The richness in his voice made your body almost melt against his warmth.

Pressing your face into the crook of his neck, you ever so slightly nodded, letting out a small hum. You stayed like this for a good few seconds before pulling away slightly.

His blueblue orbs were filled with love as he gave you a gentle smile, wiping away your tears with his thumb. He leaned in, pressing a lingering and loving kiss on your forehead.

Suddenly, the kettle began whistling loudly and both of them looked at it. Leon moved away to turn the stove off and he noticed a mug with the chocolate and milk powder jars and a small cup with a teaspoon beside it.

“Hot chocolate?” He questioned, looking at you from over his shoulders.

You nodded silently, using your sleeves to wipe away the remaining of your tears as you sniffled quietly.

He hummed, opening the cupboard as he asked, “How about you change and I’ll make us hot chocolate?”

You looked at him, “Aren’t you tired from today’s training?” She asked, already feeling needy.

Leon took out his favourite mug, “Not really,” He shrugged, “And no.”

Leon ended it, sternly before setting his eyes on you, “You’re not a burden to me, Y/N. Never was and never will be.”

It’s like he had read your mind as he returned to the task at hand.

“You had a bad day with your uptight boss, and I’m guessing that coffee stain is by your clumsy co-worker.”

You looked down at your sweater as if you had just realized it was there before letting out a breathy chuckle.

“Ah, no... It was me this time.” You admitted, softly and he let out a sound of amusement, stirring the hot drink of Heaven as he turned around to look at you.

“Seems like he’s rubbing off on you.”

“Oh, shut up...” You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless.

His chest rumbled a bit with his chuckle as you jumped down to the ground. Wrapping your arms around his slim waist, you gazed up at him with such adoration in your eyes.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love you?” You sighed dreamily and he stared into the distance, pretending to think deeply about your question.

“Huh, I don’t know, care to remind me?” Leon looked down at you, slightly bumping his nose against yours.

The corners of his eyes crinkled with his grin when you got flustered. Pressing a peck on your lips, Leon gestured to the corridor.

“Go change. I feel like your boss did something incredibly stupid today.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “Oh, you don’t even know...”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil infinite darkness #leon kennedy #dbd fanfic #resident evil fandom #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy imagines #resident evil memes #dbd memes #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy smut

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nirbanox · 6 months

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HEAVY TRIP (2018)

Directed by : Juuso Laatio,Jukka Vidgren

#Heavy Trip #symphonic post-apocalyptic reindeer-grinding Christ-abusing extreme war pagan fennoscandian metal #movies #movie screencaps #caps #films #movie screenshots #Juuso Laatio #Jukka Vidgren #comedy #heavy metal #finland #finnish

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putting-eddie-munson-in-places · 20 days

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Can you put him in Heavy Trip from 2018 please?

this IS a trip

#(this looks like a great movie btw!)#eddie munson #st #stranger things #joseph quinn #heavy trip #johannes holopainen #antti heikkien #max ovaska #samuli jaskio #eddie in places

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kanerallels · 20 days

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I've been waiting to share this fic for way too long and I am SO EXCITED. Introducing, for @chenford-prompts 2 Days of Chenford: my fic for today's prompt: Time! As is pretty typical of me, I did not take this in a normal direction. Enjoy the angst, and the first lines under the cut!

Also please enjoy this playlist, you guys helped me make it and it is a MASTERPIECE!!

“7-Adam-100, an alarm has been tripped in a residential neighborhood near your location. 447 Oakhurst Avenue.”

As Tim started to reach for the radio, Lucy said, “You know, that’s almost definitely a false alarm. We could just leave it for someone else.”

“We’re closest,” Tim pointed out. “And it’s not always a false alarm.”

“Oh, come on, Tim. More than half the time, the homeowner just accidentally tripped the alarm on their way out.”

Tim frowned at her. “Since when are you trying to get out of doing your job?”

“I’m not, I just—” she faltered, and glanced down. “I just think it’s a waste of time. Especially for a sergeant.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not your call.” Grabbing the radio, Tim clicked it on. “Show us responding.”

Replacing it, he glanced at Lucy as they took another corner, heading towards the address. She was quiet, staring out the window, but Tim could see her reflection in the glass. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and her expression was tight with frustration.

This wasn’t normal Lucy behavior. She was empathetic and kind, and she took her job seriously. Some cops would try to blow off something like this, but not her. So what was it about? Was she still upset about their argument yesterday? He’d apologized that morning, but it had to be something.

Speculating wasn’t going to do him any good. “You okay?” he asked, bringing the shop to a halt at a stop sign.

She didn’t respond right away, not until they were moving again. “Yeah— fine.”

“Listen, if this is about what I said about Sanford—”

“It’s not. You— you weren’t wrong,” she said, glancing at him. “Going out with him was probably a one time thing. He’s not… it wouldn’t work out.”

They turned onto Oakhurst. “Okay,” Tim said. “Then what’s wrong?”

She didn’t respond. When Tim looked at her again, she was staring at the house they’d pulled up in front of, her gaze heavy with something like dread. Then she unbuckled. “I can handle this— why don’t you stay here?”

Before Tim could even formulate an answer to that absolutely ridiculous question— he was a sergeant and her superior officer and definitely not the type to be sitting around in his shop while his gofer took care of calls for him— she’d opened the door and was heading for the house.

“Wha— Chen!” Scrambling to unbuckle his seat belt, Tim slammed the door behind him with a little more force than was strictly necessary. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Just stay in the shop, I got this!”

“Lucy, what’s going—”

The shatter of glass, and Tim instinctively turned towards it.

A gunshot.

And then something slammed into his upper chest, sending him toppling backwards.

#chenford #the rookie #lucy chen #tim bradford #angela lopez #tamara colins #2 weeks of chenford #tw death #chenford time loop fic #writing stories is a kind of magic too

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cellythefloshie · 6 months

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;; A Seasons End Chapter One of Cool for the Summer

Table of Contents Playlist «« 🤍 »» Chapter Two

Summary: The Carolina Hurricane's season comes to an unexpected end as the New York Rangers move on to the Eastern Conference Finals and when star forward Andrei Svechnikov cannot return home for the offseason he is left to determine where exactly he will be spending his summer. TW: Mentions of the international conflict between Russia and Ukraine. Word Count: 1k+

Game 7. It was the final game played in the series that would send the Carolina Hurricanes to the Eastern Conference Finals for the second time since Andrei Svechnikov was drafted in 2018. It was a game that the team should have laid it out on the line - his only contribution? A 2-minute penalty for tripping against Barclay Goodrow. And while the Hurricanes killed the penalty, the Rangers went on to win the series in a winner-takes-all game. The score was 2-6, a complete and utter blowout of a game in the series after 6 games with nothing more than a 3-goal differential.

It left a sour taste in the back of his mouth as he walked back into the locker room with his head hanging low on his shoulders. Andrei didn’t look up, not once, as he stripped off his gear for the last time that season. He didn’t hear the last, tired speech given by Rob as he commended the team for their season. Nor did he hear the murmurs between his teammates as they shared brief sentiments on their way out the door. One by one, they left him until he was the only one to remain.

Andrei sat in the silence, his head in his calloused palms as a heavy breath trembled through him. For the first time in months, he could feel the ach of his tired body, and it brewed with his disappointment that his season was over. There was nothing to look forward to now except 3 things: Exit interviews, training to be better come the next season and going home.

It had taken the Hurricanes organization 6 days to close out their exit interviews. One by one, they face management and the media, all singing the same tune. This was not how they wanted their season to end. They wanted to be the ones to face the Tampa Bay Lightning in the Eastern Conference Final. They wanted to go on to play the champions of the West for the Stanley Cup, but they came up short. Every one of them expressed their own shortcomings and held themselves accountable, including Andrei. It was his fourth playoff appearance, but it had been the first time injuries hadn’t kept him from playing every game. Yet, he failed to bring his regular-season success into the postseason with him. So he did the only thing he could do, promise that he would come back next season and be better and with that, he was free to leave.

With his bag packed, Andrei was ready to leave the city of Raleigh behind him. He couldn’t wait to return home, to see his family and to train with his brother, but the vibration of his phone in his pocket against his hip was insistent. It had been buzzing there all morning, through each of his interviews, and it had grown more frequent the more he ignored it. It must be important.

Pausing out in the parking lot, Andrei eased two fingers into his pocket and pressed them firmly to his phone screen. With the pressure, he guided the phone from his pocket and into his grasp. It continued to vibrate with urgency even as he held it, and when he saw just who the messages were from, he was left sighing. It was his mother.

There was no one Andrei loved more than his mother, but he didn’t like what she had to say. Ever since the end of game 7, she had been messaging him to tell him one thing: Do not go home, Andrei. It was the last thing he had wanted to hear, even if it was the reality of it all. With Russia’s military advancement in Ukraine, they had fallen under heavy scrutiny. Travel into the country was heavily restricted - even if he could book a flight to a nearby country with the intention of making the drive home there - there was no telling if he could return to America come the beginning of the next season. And so, he would heed his mother’s cautious warning. He would not go home to Russia, but where would he go?

The clamour of the door opening and closing shut behind him broke Andrei’s attention from his phone screen, and from his bag that he had dropped down to his feet. Behind him, rookie Seth Jarvis had ended his season by walking out the doors. However, one could argue it had ended the moment he had taken a bad hit from Trouba after playing nothing more than two minutes in what would be their final game of the season. The kid had been concussed so badly that he was still feeling the after-effects of the hit seven days later - and yet he was still wearing a smile as his dark eyes had come to find Andrei in the parking lot.

“You got a ride coming?” Andrei spoke slowly, his hand raising up to block the sun from his eyes as he called out for his teammate. There was no way he was driving when his head was in such a state.

“Taxi,” Seth answered simply, carefully struggling his shoulders as he tossed a single bag over it.

“No, no, my car. Get in,” Andrei pointed back with his thumb back towards his sports car that was parked in the lot. It wasn’t the most practical of things when you were trying to lug your equipment around, but Andrei loved the exhilaration and sex appeal of a fast car.

“You sure?” Seth perked up in place, but it didn’t take much more than a wave before the rookie was falling into stride.

The hollow shut of the door had Andrei melting into his seat, his head leaning back against the leather seat as he let out a sigh. “Home?” “Airport,” Seth corrected, his tone jovial.

Andrei’s heart panged with jealousy. The kid was getting to fly off, while he was still unsure of where his summer would take him. “Big vacation?”

Andrei did his best to keep the casual conversation as he began the drive and listened to Seth as he talked about going home to Winnipeg to spend the summer with his parents. But his envy was clearly written all across his features as his face fell into a frown he couldn’t contain, and Seth noticed.

“You don’t get to go home, do you?” Seth spoke slowly, his tone a little more concerned than a guy would have liked to let on. But the whole world knew of the conflict and the strain it was putting on the players from those regions.

“No,” Andrei spoke bluntly, his gaze cast out the driver’s side window. It was the last thing he wanted to talk about.

“I’m sorry man-” Seth sighed out, but then he was jolting in his seat. An idea had struck him like a bolt of lightning. “Your brother, he plays in Winnipeg!” He was almost laughing, as if he had just come up with the most brilliant solution to Andrei’s problems. “Catch the flight with me, hell, you can stay with me, if you want, and spend the summer in Winnipeg with your family.”

Andrei eased his foot onto the brake as he came to a red light, his head turning to look at Jarvis as he was beaming from the passenger’s side. He was right. Evgeny played for Winnipeg - and while he was at the end of his contract, he and his girlfriend were more than likely stuck in a very similar situation as himself.

As the light went green, Andrei’s foot remained on the brakes, causing a symphony of honking behind him, but he was in no rush. Not when his plans were so quickly changing. “In Winnipeg, I can train?” Andrei spoke slowly.

“Train, travel, whatever you want. It’s a great city, really.”

But Andrei had already heard everything he needed to hear, his foot easing off the brake and turning toward his apartment. They would make one quick stop before the airport. He needed to pick up his bags. In the small Canadian city, he would have no distractions beyond those he would allow: Seth and his family. Then, she could focus on doing the one thing that had been on his mind since the final seconds of game 7 against the New York Rangers. He could train and become the player the team needed him to be, even if that meant having to spend the summer in Winnipeg.

Taglist: @starshine-hockey-girl , @wingedwheelprxncess , @mp0625 , @misunderstoodwerewolf , @callsign-denmark , @puckmaidens , @xciciix , @cixrosie

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x original character #hockey rpf #hockey romance #hockey imagines #nhl rpf #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #andrei svechnikov fanfiction #;; cool for the sumer #;; { I don't know when the next chapter will be out but I need to clear up my drafts }#;; { and get this chapter posted so I can count it towards my 2023 word count LOL }

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jmdbjk · 8 months

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Bangtan Weekly Report

Why did JK come back to Korea?? I seriously thought it was to send Yoongi off but we're still not there yet.

This trip for JK is supposedly associated with a fashion schedule. Seems like if he was on his way to the VMAs they'd be ramming his appearance down everyone's throat for clout.

Personally, I hope he does not appear on that farce of an award show but if he does he'll pomichidai or however you spell it.

Dazed and Jungfused. He let those nipples see daylight and hasn't looked back.

JK is single-handedly dragging us along in Chapter 2, force-feeding us some grown-ass man full bleed adult Bangtan with his cigarette-smoking, nipple-feuled photos.

You know Mr. OG with the nipples will need to step up his game now right?

Tae x Layover ... poor guy wondering why everyone was cursing him out during his listening party on Stationhead.

So I listened to Layover. Added it to my playlists. It's nice, jazzy, R&B. Those genres are not my usual vibe.

Of all the songs, I think Slow Dancing is the one I like best. They were right to choose that as the title track.

The MV is gorgeous, except for the weird images of Yeontan in the trees of the mountain. Those kinda creeped me out... a little hokey, lol.

I was surprised that the songs are heavy in English lyrics. I know Tae has memorized things in English for things like award shows and all, it never seemed like he was confident in speaking English so it surprises me there is so much English in these songs.

Perhaps this is why he had Jungkook record the guides so he could follow them to help with pronunciation.

I watched a few of his Layover promotion interviews. I've been waiting to see him let more of his personality out during this solo rollout.

Tae is very animated and expressive when he speaks. And this is where I say he would excel at acting. He mentioned wanting to play a villian and I WOULD LOVE TO SEE THAT!

The Weverse Magazine story and today's Suchwita episode were more enlightening to me than anything else so far and gave me more insight as to the differences between him and the others. He made me understand his personality better. He made me realize or remember how sentimental he is. They talked in-depth about several topics: 2018, Chapter 2, individual projects and best of all they talked about when they get back together as 7. It did make me tear up when he said when they get back together he would like them to go on a trip together.

Anyway...

Tae has been feeding us on Instagram daily along with Namjoon...

Happy 29th birthday Namjoon!

You are loved and admired. Thank you for normalizing fuzzy mole head Bangtan, but I'm still going to fall down in a weeping mess when I see Jimin's head like that.

RM just going about his business and showing Jimin some art. The Leeum Museum is within walking distance of their apartments at Nine One, not that I think they walked there, they probably went in Jimin's car since Joon still doesn't drive... just kidding... but who knows. I got behind a Porsche Panamera the other day and was thrilled. That's a much larger car than I originally thought it was.

[Pretty sure that's a drink Jimin's holding in his left hand. Maybe iced coffee.]

I want to think that some deep conversations happened while these two were contemplating art. How can deep conversations NOT happen when you are hanging around Joon?

And Hobi and Jin still making their presence known on Weverse and IG. We are on the downslide for Jin. I can't wait for him to be back.

I think, not 100% sure, but I think after Korean men are discharged from the military they are automatically put in reserves. I didn't know that until the other day. So we may think they are scott-free when they are discharged but not really. Phooey.

💜💜💜

Just a quick thing for insight: Miley Cyrus said touring is hard for her because she felt her "ego" gets "overused" and that "it's hard to turn it off." She said "I think when you're training your ego every single night to be active, that's the hardest switch, for me, to turn off." Having every day the relationship between her and other humans to be basically 'subject' and 'observer' isn't healthy for her because it erases her humanity and her connection.

Just food for thought...

#i thought jimin was skinny #have you seen tae?#95z are beanpoles #chapter 2 isn't about taking off shirts?#then what's it about tae?#someone's bound to be the first to do a chapter 2 full frontal #no i mean front chest get your mind out of the gutter #and then we know what's next #bangtan weekly report

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cha1nsaw-gutsfvck · 23 days

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Heavy Trip (2018)

#metal #moviegifs #movie night #heavy trip

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3terna15unshin3 · 1 year

Text

Then Because She Goes

You are mine, I’ve been drowning in you

★ Chapter 1 of 15, 4283 words

★ Matty Healy x Original Female Character

★ warnings: none

— 17 April, 2018

The wheels on the metal cart Este struggled to push were in dire need of some grease. She winced at the loud squeaking noise it made, as her shoulders jumped up to soften the blow to her ears. It was decades old, the shop’s equipment, so Este was used to it. Bubbles emerged underneath the orange carpet as it bunched up and refused to let the heavy product across the store.

Nietzsche, Seneca, and Aurelius were just a few of the dozens of surnames sitting before her already drooping eyes, waiting patiently to return to the philosophy section on the quiet Tuesday morning. A seven-in-the-morning start time was odd for Este, as she had grown accustomed to coming in past midday and closing up the shop in the evening. But, the night before, her boss rang her and begged her to come in bright and early; since he’d forgotten that his daughter's piano performance was a matinee. He promised to cover the evening for her instead.

Samuel, her boss, was the forty-something year old owner of Greenhouse Books who usually covered mornings. He only hired the once teenage Este in attempts to save the live plants scattered across his store, since he was horrible at caring for them himself, and customers started to complain. But almost eight years later, she loved nothing more than the musty smell of used literature, and lived a quiet, content life surrounded by it.

The change of pace was bizarre. Sam almost always dealt with the non-fiction areas of the store. She felt oddly unfamiliar shelving what she had to that day, even with the years of experience under her belt. Her tan cheeks grew warm with embarrassment. Memoirs could be seen in her hands often but never philosophy, and the difficult to pronounce names didn't help her bare minimum knowledge on the genre.

Nonetheless, she squeezed a final book by Camus into the tightly packed bay and turned to wheel the cart back across the now permanently rippled carpet. Yikes. She'd have to tell Sam to get it stretched again or maybe ask him to just quit putting so many books on each cart at once.

“Oh well,” she muttered and tucked a wavy strand of her black hair behind her ear. “It’ll add to the charm.”

Interrupting the conversation Este was holding with nobody but herself, an elderly woman brushed through the front door.

“Good morning!” the woman exclaimed, smiling as she attempted to control her white hair that had been swept around by the Manchester wind.

“Morning! Watch your step, almost tripped on that ripple myself,” Este warned, perking up her voice to make a polite impression.

Wrinkles appeared near the woman’s eyes as she laughed and thanked Este gratefully, before asking for the whereabouts of Louise Penny’s books. After outstretching her arm and pointing over to the mystery section, the still half-asleep 26-year-old stationed herself back behind the counter.

An inconsistent flow of customer interactions continued throughout the day before Este found herself closing the store for thirty minutes to eat her lunch and brew a quick coffee. She flipped the sign in the window to the side that read ‘closed’ and then pranced to the back room to start their Nespresso for an americano. Leftover Thai food from last night's takeaway was scarfed into her stomach as she decided to eat in her spot behind the counter, enjoying the sun streaming in instead of hiding in the back.

Watching people walk past Greenhouse on the pavement was her daily entertainment; but it quickly backfired as Este remembered that the people walking by could actually see her too. Some pairs of eyes lingered on her a bit too long—out of curiosity, Este assumed—and it made her feel a bit like a zoo animal. So, she thought it’d be best to finish her meal in the back room; but before she could get there, someone tugged on the door trying to enter. It was locked of course, but her pushover mentality jumped up to open it anyway.

She hurriedly greeted the young man on the other side, mustering up an apology in her head. “I’m so sorry, I was just closed up for lunch! You’re welcome to come on in, I’m finishing up right away—”

He interrupted with a similar apologetic tone in his voice. “Oh—you’re on break! Please, no worries, I can come back another time. Enjoy your lunch!”

“Thank you, but I promise I don’t mind at all. Please come on in!” she argued, but he stepped backwards promptly and insisted on coming back later.

“I insist, you deserve your break. I’m sure this shop won’t disappear on me—no biggie. Seriously,” he finished, slipping his hand back into the pocket of his trench coat.

Este looked at the tattoo poking out of his sleeve. It said ‘DAD’. She stopped herself from staring and shot him one last ‘thank you’ while a soft smile lit up his face.

She let out a breath after the nervous and slightly desperate exchange, watching the man walk away. I may as well have begged him to stay on my hands and knees... Este thought to herself and cringed. Her eyes lingered as he ran his fingers through his hair and jogged to cross the street to enter the Starbucks that sat opposite her.

He could’ve read the sign, to be fair.

— April 21, 2018

After that lonesome Tuesday shift, some relief accompanied Este through the week as her typical evening hours were welcomed back into her schedule.

But, a pestering curiosity ate into Este's subconscious. She wondered if the 'DAD'-tattoo-having, lunch-break-interrupting guy ever came back in and whether he found what he was looking for. Maybe he had even more tattoos, and enjoyed reading Nietzsche, unlike her.

She always thought there was excitement within mystery. This fascination shined through with her habit of seeing intriguing strangers and creating little lives for them. Este did it all the time when meeting customers, since it was difficult (and far too existential) for her to conceptualise each person on Earth living a life just as thoroughly as her own. Were they not just entities who showed up to walk into her sight and then out of it again? How could they experience unique anxieties, have a favourite food, or dislike their mum's maiden name?

Este never had any luck accepting that reality, so she felt comfort through the creativity of just deciding what these strangers were like, using it as a way to pass time in the bookstore. She insisted that the Louise Penny woman from that early morning had countless amounts of cats, rarely leaving a stray on the street. She probably lived an eventful youth, travelling around the world, never having time for children, with the biggest sweet tooth known to humankind.

But he was different. Este struggled to pin any quirky and made-up attributes to the striking stranger. Nothing she stirred up in her mind felt like it fit. She began to think that maybe she was too curious to know the real answers to be able to come up with any make-believe ones. As rare as this struggle was for Este, the mere seconds-long interaction from earlier in the week slowly faltered from her memory.

✴

“It should arrive in, maybe, four to five business days. Can’t be sure with the post, though. Perfect. We’ll be in touch—my pleasure. Buh-bye.”

The blue Post-It note crumpled in her hand as Este finally made the last call on the order-in list Sam left for her. A sigh escaped her lips as she let herself relax into the bulk of her shift, only 45 minutes in so far.

She took a leisurely lap around the shop and dragged her fingertips over the greenery—some hanging, some sitting on any spare patch of carpet, others sprawled along the shelves—taking note of their growing crunchiness. Her eyes widened as she tried to recall the last time she’d watered them. It had been a while. Walking to the back, Este opened the leftmost cupboard in the kitchenette to grab their large glass pitcher.

Caring for the plants served as a great way to make the clock tick faster on a particularly slow day for Greenhouse. A customer would walk in no less than an hour after the previous one, and preferred to silently browse—Este's favourite type of shopper. But later, when she was due to close in a short half-hour, a pair of familiar eyes met hers through the front window.

Serving as a much more casual alternative to a trench coat, a bright yellow puffer jacket clad Matty this time around. He reached out a hand to try the door, similarly to his actions earlier in the week. Hesitating, he glanced over at the sign in the glass. It read ‘open’, thankfully, so he swung it wide and slid through. His curly hair slightly bounced back and forth as a memory of the awkward encounter came to the front of his mind, attempting to shake it out.

The last thing he wanted to do on his quick trip was to almost break and enter a locally praised small business. Good god, was that embarrassing, Matty thought.

After it happened, he waited in line at the Starbucks across the street and physically cringed—knowing that there was not a single chance he'd be stepping back into the shop on that same day. Enough damage to his ego had been done.

Every time he took a stroll through Manchester, to slow down the pace of his normally high-speed life, Greenhouse piqued his interest. Its charming energy inspired him to walk in a handful of times over the years; meeting the tall and bright blond owner with a small smile each time. So, he couldn't stop his feet from carrying him back down to the bookshop across from the Starbucks.

Matty was certain that he had never seen that particular worker before he'd disturbed her lunch, despite shopping at Greenhouse in the past. He would’ve remembered the fullness of her cheeks and her wavy black hair. As his eyes graced her a second time, now in the glow of the few lamps illuminating the shop instead of the late morning natural brightness, he gave her an acknowledging (and apologetic) smile and nod.

Este recognized him instantly and waved her hand lightly. “Evening,” she said, her single dimple showing up as she sent a smile back.

“Evening,” he replied casually. “Do you guys have an essay section? I never know where to look.”

Racking her brain for any essay recommendations and finding none, she answered him. “Yeah! It's just in the left back corner over there,” she pointed. “Rather small though, we don't tend to receive many essays nowadays and I can't say I've read any myself.”

He glanced over to where she pointed and nodded his head in realisation, eyes travelling back to hers. Normally, Matty would head over silently and go about his night—but a sudden urge to hear her speak again took over, and his feet stayed in place.

“Really? Not the essay type?”

“Not at all,” she shyly admitted, stepping out from behind the counter and deciding to go and show him the section herself. Este felt like he was striking a conversation with the intention of it lasting, so she chose to comply. Not that she needed much convincing.

He had a certain amiability to him, and even with the limited interaction they'd had together, Este felt it radiate. His eyebrows rose in curiosity and she knew he was listening deeply to their light small talk, which they fell into with ease. More apologies for the momentous Tuesday lunch incident were spewed between them before they learned the other's favourite genres, and the reason Matty had never seen her in the shop before. He made a mental note to come in the evening again next time.

Este liked the few greys hiding in his curly hair and was jealous of his jacket, planning to ask him where it was from if he ever came back in again (since maybe it was too early for that kind of thing). The way he said 'em' instead of 'um' was silly.

Matty couldn't stop staring at her dimple and accidentally smiled back every time it appeared on the left side of her face. In the couple steps they took, he counted up the 4 times she reached to fidget with her necklace. He thought it was a dragonfly, but wasn't completely sure.

“Here they are.” Her eyes scanned the few dozen essay anthologies that sat on the shelves, rather dusty. “Honestly not sure if you'll find anything good here. Can't recall the last time I saw anyone even browsing the section,” she admitted bluntly with a smile, poking fun at his odd reading taste.

Este’s playfulness dragged the edges of his mouth upwards, with his slightly crooked teeth on display.

“Thanks anyway,” he replied with a chuckle, but dragged his tone out—leaving space to let her finish his sentence, silently asking for her name.

She didn't quite get the memo, spouting a quick 'no worries' and flashing him another smile. Her eyes locked with his for a couple seconds as her body turned to lift a pile of books that were clearly out of place. Este had work to do, after all.

He wasn’t too concerned that he didn’t have a name to pair with her face, since he figured he’d remember her anyway. Keeping reserved on his time off, striking conversation wasn't something Matty often did—especially with strangers— but he felt strangely at home within the musty smelling book shop. Its warm lighting and orange carpet eased his eyes. It helped that he was entranced by its smiley staff, too.

Raising his finger to the shelf to help his eyes drag over the sideways book titles, he searched for something to read on the train back to London. He read them one by one. Something about evolution, something by Virginia Woolf. No, no.

“Jesus is the Way: Essays on His Master Plan,” he read aloud to himself as he picked up and inspected the brown novel. “Definitely no.”

Wandering around the shelves after no luck with any essays, Matty turned on his phone to grab the time. He'd been inside Greenhouse for no more than 20 minutes, but had to get back to start packing for his early train ride the next morning. He picked at the skin surrounding his nail beds with his teeth, out of habit, as he decided whether he should say something to the girl behind the counter before leaving.

She had just finished moving the stack of books she had lifted earlier, the abundance of them taking a couple trips. The heavy lifting forced her to catch her breath after she was done, cheeks slightly flushed. Matty noticed the tinge of pink in them and observed the way it mixed with her tanned skin. A subtle anxiety crept behind his ears while he walked past the register, stopping right in front.

“You weren't lying, the essay selection here is actually pretty shite,” he joked to catch her attention.

Este laughed at herself and raised her hands in the air next to her shoulders. “I mean, I'm no liar.” Her eyebrows raised and she shrugged, hands still in the air, as if saying 'I told you so'. “Nothing else caught your eye?”

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Nope. Guess I'll just never read a book ever again. Thanks…” More sarcasm dripped from his voice as he hoped she'd fill in the space he left for her name, for a second time.

“Este,” she completed. “And hey, next time you should just have a better taste in books and then maybe you won't have to scour the essay section for something to read.”

Matty's quick wit shot a response back immediately, the friendly banter continuing. “I don't recall you offering any recommendations for me,” he argued.

A chuckle escaped her lips as her dimple appeared again, a smile brightening her face.

Since he couldn't help it, he smiled right back. “I'm Matty, by the way.”

She studied the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and pictured them becoming more noticeable when he laughs. He seemed like the type to laugh with his whole body; like he felt things deeply.

“Well Matty, I'd be happy to recommend something of my taste if you could find an essay anthology that won't make me want to rip my hair out of boredom,” Este posed.

He pointed at her, beginning to turn his body towards the door, his feet shuffling over.

“If that's a promise, then I'll be back.” Flashing another smile, Matty exited and ended the conversation there.

The door shut behind him as he let out a shaky breath, inhaling deeply for the first time in the past couple minutes. I should've said goodbye before leaving. Was saying that ‘I’ll be back’ weird? Was it creepy? he overthought. It was quite out of the blue to care so much about a short interaction with a stranger, but he found himself considering both what he did say and could have said to Este on his journey back.

As Matty stepped into his messy Airbnb, he thought about his itinerary for the following day and noticed a rare wave of dread tickling the back of his neck. After getting back to London, he'd be knee deep in work; likely living in the studio, pushing through the thick of writing and recording his third album. Out of context, four months sounded like plenty of time to finish it, but his trip back to his old stomping grounds—originally taken to bask in some calm before the storm—left a lot of space for thinking. The pressure was overwhelming.

Too much time spent diving through his own thoughts was never good for Matty. Things that he agreed were settled suddenly needed tweaking, making the newly 29-year-old eager to get back to work. The pure magnitude of it all was what he found himself to dread, the high expectations weighing on his conscience.His art only continued to explore genres (or the lack thereof), and fleeted with ambition—the only way to keep him sane—and the new instalment of The 1975 embraced that more than ever.

It's far too early to be worried about criticism, Matty decided internally, trying to fit a fifth pair of shoes into his suitcase.

He considered the surprisingly effortless exchange he shared with Este just an hour previous to his last-minute packing, and how it was the first he initiated while on his own in a long while. For a moment, he had no record to worry about, or deadlines to meet, and enjoyed the simple company of another person. Through the stress of his industrious life, Matty had a habit of forgetting that the naivety of moments like those in Greenhouse Books is sometimes all he needs for a surge of inspiration. The Greenhouse girl served as a good reminder.

A suddenly buoyant outlook for A Brief Inquiry accompanied Matty and his now fully zipped black luggage on the floor of his lounge. His tired hands reached for his phone and opened up Instagram, signing into his burner account, the official one still dormant and set to reactivate closer to the album release. The only intention he had on the social media app that night was to slyly search 'este' into his explore page, but none were the Este.

Must be a couple of other Este’s on the internet, I guess, Matty thought.

Before bed that night, he laid his head on his pillow, as a small spark of motivation soothed the pressure of the coming future.

— May 31, 2018

“The couch definitely can't go in that corner,” Este argued. “Everyone would break their necks trying to watch the T.V.” She sipped on her tea, elbows propped behind her on the kitchen island. “Seriously, Cate, tell me how you can be a graphic designer without having even a slight eye for interiors. It's appalling, honestly.”

A moment of silence sat between the two flatmates as they looked at each other, Cate’s jaw hanging open. “How about you tell me how you can be such a bitch and still live under the same roof as me?” she fired back playfully. “I'm gonna strangle you one day.” Her hands rose, forming an imaginary chokehold as the two laughed some more.

Cate joined Este in the kitchen to see the same view of their living room, tilting her head. Their brand new couch sat awkwardly in the centre of the space, both of them failing to realise how big it was before buying it online. Sweat once glistened at both of their foreheads as they rearranged all of the furniture that sat in front of the T.V., attempting to find some sort of solution, and ultimately playing a game of living room Tetris to try and fit the couch somewhere.

They were so focused that they did it all in silence, only exchanging short phrases like ‘to your left, a couple of centimetres,’ and ‘hold that corner while I fix the rug’. But, after two hours of effort, the girls sat back to assess the damage and have a tea break.

“You know,” started Este. “Maybe this big project you're up for will earn you some extra cash and we can afford to get a new coffee table, too. That's really the issue here, honestly. It's awkward and bulky. We need a cute and dainty ovular one, or something, maybe the couch will fit then,” she suggested.

The red-haired girl raised her eyebrows. “You’ve found the culprit, babe. That coffee table needs to go.” Cate confirmed. “Might be a while for that merch collection to pay out, though. We haven’t even started it yet. Think we can survive with this gargantuan thing until September?”

“I guess we’ll have to.”

After they chose to ignore the furniture situation for the night, Este started bringing ingredients out of the cupboards to make herself dinner. She plonked a loaf of bread and a carton of eggs plonked onto the counter, with Cate watching in amusement.

“Eggs? At 7:30pm?” Cate asked judgmentally.

“Listen, breakfast for dinner is normal for me. You should know this by now.” Este shrugged and flicked on their gas stove to start satisfying her hunger. “You ate already—and without me, so this is actually none of your business,” she said.

A dash of oil was drizzled into the pan and Este stepped back to wait for it to heat up.

“Still think it’s weird.”

Este rolled her eyes. “You can quit judging me and divert that energy to being on AUX, if you don't mind. Been in a drought lately, just listening to the same stuff over and over,” Este suggested, getting most of her music recommendations from roommate’s much more eclectic taste. She handed over their JBL speaker that was sitting on the island, prompting Cate to pair her phone and fill the silence.

“I could say the exact same! What’s with the month of May? I’ve come across literally nothing new, or even remotely good,” she complained. “But hey, I think it’s Annie Mac time on Radio 1 right now. Maybe I’ll stick that on and she’ll give us some hope.”

Este flipped over her egg with a spatula and then pointed it at Cate, approving her good idea. “I trust that woman with my life, Cate. You know I’d never say no to my girl Annie,” she gushed.

Cate laughed and put on the radio, the two falling into conversation about nothing in particular as Annie Mac spouted on about her hottest record of May.

“The whole song seems to be about you looking back, and the observations of growing older, and what you’re learning—and the lessons learned.”

“That’s true.”

“So, we’ve just confirmed that you are obsessed with growing older.”

“I’m obsessed with—I mean—it’s not about me growing older, because I mean Annie, look at my face. I look alright.”

“Babe, you look like you’re about 22!”

“Right, you heard it here first. Matt Healy looks 22, that’s the headline I want to see!”

Cate walked back over to the couch and collapsed onto it, tired from the whole debacle. It made no sense in their living room, but damn, was it comfortable. She closed her eyes and basked in the fluffiness of the brand new cushion, eventually hearing a song start. Its piercing guitar riff cut into her brain and she found herself cringing at how exposed it was; but the fast beat of the song intrigued her. It felt so in-your-face, that laying down (fully relaxed with her eyes shut) felt like the complete wrong way to take it in.

She stood up suddenly and looked over at Este, who was deep in thought. Cate snapped her out of it, and said, “This song makes me feel like I have tachycardia.”

Her roommate looked up at her, now out of her trance, and laughed out loud at her best friend’s reference to the condition where your heart beats too fast. “You’re so right,” she agreed, sliding her fully cooked eggs onto the couple of slices of toast. Este couldn't help but nod her head with the rhythm.

“Tachycardia, like, in a good way, though.” Cate complimented.

It continued to the chorus and as it spewed optimistic lyrics, Este and Cate caught each other's eyes again. The line, “Won’t you give yourself a try?” repeated over and over, and in unison, they began dancing like maniacs.

2 >>

#matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x oc #the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy fic #the 1975 #tbsg #Spotify

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lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers · 1 year

Note

whenever you have time and energy, please let us hear more of your thoughts on violence under capitalism

Oh, I have the time and the energy, I just didn't want to make the previous ask/answer excessively long!

I think another basic point about both anarchism and communism is that there is violence inherent in capitalism. Capitalism requires the exploitation of the workers by the bosses in order to make profit.

If we take this on a global scale, I think we're all aware of the concept of "sweat shops" in the general, but often we don't consider how unsafe these places are to work. These are factories with no, or very limited regulation- we hear about factory collapses in Bangladesh, where people die in their hundreds. We don't hear about the individuals who are injured or killed every day globally due to unsafe working practices.

Even in the UK, a country that has reasonably good health and safety legislation (of course, legislation is not always followed), in 2018-2019, 147 workers were killed by "accidents at work", as well as 92 members of the public. That's more than 4 people each week. In 2020-21, bearing in mind there were mass lockdowns and many industries stopped working for a period of time, 123 workers, and 80 members of the public were killed. (figures from HSE). These figures do not include deaths from covid-19.

In fact, part of the reason I started this blog during the coronavirus pandemic was because I was aware people were being put in dangerous situations, and covid was being spread more widely because capitalism and profit were being prioritised above people's lives.

The way we are forced to work is killing many people, and injuring huge numbers. In 2021-22, about 150,000 people in the UK sustained an injury at work which meant they were absent for more than 7 days (so potentially quite a serious injury).

Injuries can be caused by unsafe working practices or environments, but equally things like rushing because you are under pressure can lead to a trip or a fall, or people trying to carry things that are too heavy or awkward on their own, and sustaining an injury. The nature of capitalism is that time is money, so we are encourage to work fast, to work when tired, and this can cause people to get hurt.

So that's a little bit about the violence inherent in "work", but what about the violence inherent in the system?

Capitalism kills people- capitalism has always killed people. The nature of the system is that some of us have money and access to all the things we need (food, housing, medication and so on) and some of us don't. People die, or are injured or get ill all the time due to homelessness, even in so-called developed countries. People die due to lack of food, even when there might be food available. People die due to lack of medicine all the time, even in countries where this ought to be freely available, because they cannot afford it.

Whenever people criticise communism, they like to bring up the famine under Stalin. I'm not going to launch into a defense of Stalin, but when we criticise capitalism, we should therefore look at famines caused by it, or contributed to by it. Historically, the potato famine in Ireland, or the Bengal Famine in India (when it was under British rule) are just two examples. We can also look at the ongoing famine in Yemen, and increasing problems in Sudan and the surrounding area.

Many people consider these famines to be solely due to natural causes, "acts of god" if you will. But that's not the case.

If we look at the potato famine, sometimes called an Drochshaol in Gaelic, solely because that's the one I'm most familiar with, we can see that it was caused largely by a capitalist, colonialist system, and the impacts of it were made far more extreme due to capitalism.

People will tell you the potato famine was caused by the potato blight, but it's not as simple as that. There was potato blight across Europe, in the 1840s, leading to about 100,000 deaths across the whole of Europe. In Ireland, more than 1 million people died, and many more emigrated, causing a 20-25% fall in the total population.

Part of the reason for this was the reliance on a single crop. This wasn't a situation chosen by the Irish people. Instead, English landlordism pushed the poorest Irish people into a situation where they had very little land, and the only crop that could sustain them on their land was the potato. Meanwhile, much of the agricultural land was used to grow wheat or other grains, or farm meat, which was solely used for the profit of the landlords.

Arguably the greatest tragedy of the Irish famine was that there was plenty of food in Ireland. It was just all being exported, so that people could make money. And during the famine, people continued to do this, and continued to make money, even whilst people were literally starving in the streets.

And during all of this, the English landlords continued to charge rent. Even before the famine, many families in Ireland could not fully afford their rents, and were supported through relatives working abroad (usually seasonal work in Britain). During the famine, there were a huge number of evictions.

I recently watched a BBC TV show about evictions (because English landlords haven't changed at all) and one of the tenants facing eviction said something along the lines of "eviction is a really violent act"- which I believe is true. And it is even more violent in a situation where your family is starving and everyone around you is starving.

Anyway, my point is that the landlords were able to evict their tenants, in order to make more money, causing even more deaths. And all of this is was fuelled by a capitalist, colonialist system.

And in the last 170 or so years, we can see that on a surface level, things have improved somewhat in some countries. But equally, in England, we still live in a country where someone can evict you for no reason and make you street homeless if *you* can't find another house in time- yes, in some circumstances, "the council" will help house people, but the housing offered is often inadequate or limited for families- and it often doesn't exist for young, single people- so they end up sofa surfing or sleeping on the streets.

In the USA, people still die or end up in extremely difficult situations because they can't afford the medical treatment they need.

I'm sure anyone who lives in a capitalist country can point to some key injustice which leads to death or serious ill health, and is driven solely by profit and the property owning class. This is the violence inherent in the system, and it kills far more people than interpersonal violence ever could.

Again, this has become very long, and there's still more in it that I want to explore, so do keep sending me asks on these themes if you are interested.

#asks #politics #anticapitalism #violence

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choicesficwriterscreations · 1 year

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CFWC Writer of the Month: Princess-Geek

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @princess-geek ! We hope you will enjoy learning more about her and her work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: princess-geek Blog Masterlist

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

I think it was around the summer of 2018. I wanted to improve my English, and I was looking for a fun way to do it. Looking for apps on Google Play, I tripped over advertisements of “simulation” games, including Choices. It was the least bizarre on the list. The idea of transfiguring myself into another reality was quite appealing. The first book I played was “The Freshman - Book 1”

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

After playing the first books, I was thirsty for more. I decided to search online and found the magical world of fanfication. In my quest for more content, I found Tumblr. I read for a while without an account, but then I created a profile in December 2018.

3- How did you pick your blog name?

It took days to pick. I wanted something that would represent my essence and not restrict my blog to the Choices world. I wanted it to lump together all my other interests.

After much thought, I came up with the name "princess-geek."

"Princess" because she was always very girly and fascinated by the world of princesses (Disney's fault).

"Geek" because even though it's not my only interest, since I was a teenager I really like technology and keeping up with the trends. I spent hours as a child discovering all the secrets of our home computer.

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!

It was a song, “More than friends” by Jason Mraz ft Meghan Trainor . I was hooked on the song at the time, and I still love it.

5- How long have you been writing fanfiction?

I had never written fanfic until I joined the fandom. My first attempt was a very short story about Ethan x MC (Jane Silva). "Under the hot sun". It's lost somewhere on Tumblr and I can't find it. Here is the link to my story in AO3.

It was written in the summer of 2019, so I consider my shy start

6- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about? In both cases, the answer is Desire & Decorum, but I would love to try other stories like TRR and BLADES.

7- Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

Despite what I shared in question 5, I consider my first true fanfic was "Cinnamon Mouth", another Ethan Ramsey x MC (Dr. Jane Silva) story, posted on 20 September 2019.

It's a silly story, but I don't think I'd change a single comma, because it represents the beginning of something very important to me.

8- What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

It’s “Chapters III - First Impressions”. I love it because some important characters are introduced and it has a bit of everything: fun moments, some mystery and drama

9- Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

I didn't expect you to like "Chapter VIII -Heart in ashes" as it's emotionally heavy, addressing topics such as death and mourning.

The fic “Winter Adventures - All’s fair in love and snowballs” could use a bit more love. It was a pleasure to write with @ezekielbhandarivalleros, and the chapter is so funny! I recommend it to anyone who wants to have a winter adventure in the comfort of the fireplace.

10- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Fluff! Fluff!! Fluff!!! Life is complicated, that's why the world needs fluff stories that warm the heart and make us dream.

11- Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Yes a bit. I've lived vicariously through my MC|OC Beatrice Foredale. We have some things in common, like curiosity, the dream of becoming a journalist and the will to change the world, although my ambitions are much more modest than hers.

12- What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Dialogues. I am always afraid that they are not natural and fluid. As English is not my native language, there are subtleties that I don't understand, and I know that this affects my work.

13- Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Yes, the victim is my new chapter. I wouldn't call it negligence, but a mismatch. When I have ideas, I don't have energy; When I have energy, I have no ideas, or often both. I hope can finish it soon.

14- If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first?

Only if it was someone I trusted completely. I have some fear of judgment. Not even my sister, who is one of those people of absolute trust, knows about my writing adventures. If it ever happens, I probably will recommend the fic “Cuteness & Mischievousness” because no one can don’t like puppies!

15 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing?

The style of the Portuguese writer Eça de Queirós and Jane Auten are definitely my paradigms. Eça de Queirós is a master of descriptions and irony, elements that I invest a lot in my fics. Here on Tumblr, my inspiring muses are @missameliep (her main characters are so real that they become our friends, making us laugh and suffer with them), @noesapphic (Her plots are complex but hypnotic. We get lost in her worlds and we don't want to leave.) and @storyofmychoices (I marvel at the number of plots and characters she creates for her stories. Her blog is a cave of wonders!). In all three, I also deeply admire their dedication to writing and their enormous kind hearts.

16- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

I'd love if my "Unspoken Desires" were a TV series. I think people would love the romance and drama.

17- Do you write original fiction?

I tried several times throughout my life, but I was never successful. For now, I’m happy with fanfiction.

18 - What other hobbies do you have?

I love to read as much as I love to write. I like to take walks outdoors, do cross stitch, paint clothes and wooden pieces to offer to family and friends. And, whenever I can, get to know a new place.

19 - It’s Valentine’s Month! Tell us your feelings about the holiday (good or bad!) Do you have any Valentine’s Day fics planned?

I do not give particular importance to the holiday. Love should be celebrated and demonstrated every day. However, I can say that I have fond memories of the holiday. While we were at school, a friend always wrote to us on this day to say how much she appreciated us. I still have some of those letters. Perhaps by that date a new chapter will be released. Although it was not intended for the occasion, love is the central theme of the chapter.

21: BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to!)

Despite all the ups and downs, this fandom has been a wonderful place to be. Thank you so much for all the work your blog has done and for this opportunity to talk about me and my work.

#choices fic writers creations #cfwc writer of the month #writer of the month #princess-geek #desire & decorum #playchoices fanfic

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