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#neighbors australia

gornwen · 2 days

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My parents moved my sister and I to Australia (Hobart) from the US (Mid-Michigan) for a brief but impactful period of time when we were 8 and 13 years old.

The most surprising takeaway from this experience years later is our completely fucked up and un-American relationship with the word cunt.

#australia #auscore #usa to aus #gornwen's childhood #i dont think that is how they use that word here #we learned to swear in australia to the horror of our american neighbors #tas #Hobart

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rubydolly · 2 years

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I won two Totoro keychains at the Million Life pop up in Broadway Shopping Center

#australia #sydney #new south wales #million life #kawaii #kawaii culture #studio ghibli #my neighbor totoro

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buckaroosboogara · 3 months

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Hi! Just wanna raise some awareness here because South America is on fucking fire and I need to see more people talking about this.

Source: RSOE EDIS x

Im just going to talk about the ones i'm closest to, but if you know about these fires, feel free to add in the reblogs!

Chile

In Chile there's (up to Feb 5) 160 wild fires, of which 40 are still trying to be controlled by authorities. The president, Gabriel Boric, has declared State of Emergency in the whole country, and theres a Red Alert Code in most part of the country.

Isla de Chiloé, Southern Chile (900 km away from Santiago de Chile)

This is a (recently controlled) fire that lasted a week, but many neighborhoods were burnt to the ground.

The whole South is in red alert for constant sudden fires that spread quickly due to the lack of rain and the elevated temperatues in the zone. Just today, two fires had to be controlled in the main land next to this island, and more are being reported in the Los Lagos region. This is added to the "controlled" intentional fires that farmers make to clean their fields of old crops along the Central-South parts of the country, mostly surrunding the main route, Ruta 5, that connects the whole country, thus making it hard to see and breathe because of the smoke. (flashnews, most of them get out of control quickly.)

Valparaiso/Viña del Mar, Central Chile (100 km away from Santiago de Chile)

A fire that started on Friday 2nd and grew exponentially because of the wind and the dry, hot climate. More than 100 people are dead, with 70 unrecognized bodies and other 400 that have dissapeared. At least 30000 people that have lost everything to the fire.

There's massive evacuations from this and the neighboring city, Viña Del Mar.

This is said to be the second most deadly fire in the century, surpased by Australia in 2009.

45000+ hectares that include land and neighborhoods have been burnt down.

I could go on about this one, so more info here and here

Argentina

Parque Los Alerces (Esquel), Chubut

The fire strarted on the 25th January, and the climate has made it hard to contain. 3000 hectares of native forest have been burnt to teh ground. It is now growing in the direction of the nearest city, Esquel. Theres been evacuations between yesterday and today (4 and 5th Febuary)

Parque Nahuel Huapi (Bariloche), Río Negro

The reason why im writing this. The city woke up today covered in smoke after a wildfire developed yesterday during the night. The reason? A fireplace that was not turned off in a place where people cannot disembark and can only be reached via boats.

As of now, there's not much information about the fire but hopefully the firefighters will be able to contain it before it reaches Tronador Mountain, where an ancient glaciar is.

...which leads me to the other point i wanted to talk about.

Firefighters

They volunteer to do this job.

In Argentina and Chile, firefighting is not rewarded with a salary, and most of the times they dont even have full firehouses to stay in. These people are at their houses, ready to jump into action and run to the station the second the alarm goes off.

They are neighbors, people that risk their lives and run into danger willingly, just because they want to help the community.

I felt the need to give a shout-out to these people and say:

Don't be a fucking dick, don't start fires in the woods unless it's an approved place, and if you do, TURN IT OFF.

Pour abundant water on it, and do not stop when you don't see any more flames.

Keep pouring water until the ashes don't burn/feel like room temperature in your hand if you put it 10 cm away from it, and even then, pour some more just to be sure.

No heat and no smoke mean a safely extinguished fire.

Save lives and forests.

#dont even get me started on the denial of climate change from my president #didnt wanna get political here #argentina #chile #argieposting #argieblr #soff speaks #wildfires

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genderkoolaid · 1 year

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Tranny. Many people don’t know the history of the word, they assume it was an assigned hate term or slur along the lines of the “n” word. That’s not how it happened. Tranny was invented by us in Sydney, Australia in the 1970s where drag was a big deal, and still the best drag shows ever are in Sydney, Australia – they’re amazing. So a lot of trans-identified women who were assigned male at birth did drag, that’s how you made your living. And so they were transsexuals, transvestites, drag queens, and they were all doing drag to make money. They all bickered amongst each other who is better than who, “Well the drag queens are better,” “No, the transsexuals are better.” “You are all freaks, we’re better.” And on and on and on. But they worked together and they were family together, so they came up with a word that would say family and that was tranny. In Australia they do the diminutive, that’s how they come up with words. So tranny. I learned the word in the mid-1980s, late 1980s from my drag mom in San Francisco, Doris Fish, who was the city’s preeminent drag queen and she’d come from Sydney. And she schooled me in this word tranny, she said, “This way it means we’re family, darling.” “Thank you mama.” [...] So we used it and we were trannies together. And F to M was just beginning to start, the trans men were just beginning to become visible, Lou Sullivan was a neighbor of mine around the corner, and he was the first big out trans man, wrote his book. So trans men and cross dressers . . . cross dressers were also family. Transsexuals, we were all trannies and that felt good. That got into the sex industry and became a genre – there was tranny porn, there were tranny sex workers – chicks with dicks, she-males. [...] And, my only guess is that people who . . . because the only way they would have found out about the word is if they were watching tranny porn or having been with a tranny sex worker and then hated themselves so much that they turned it into a curse word. So it’s not really technically correct to say we’re reclaiming a word – it was always ours. So, many people mistake the word for the hatred behind the word and, in my generation, and I’m sure in future generations of trans people, tranny is going to be a radicalized, sexualized identity of trans in the same way that faggot is a prideful identity in the gay male community – not all gay men are faggots, but those who are are proudly fags and those who are dykes are proudly dykes within the lesbian community, trannies are proudly tranny within the transgender community. Does that mean we can’t call ourselves that because some trans woman does not want to be called a tranny? No. I’m going to keep calling myself a tranny. To the trans woman who gets called tranny, I’m sorry – as soon as . . . you’ve got to look at why you’re getting called tranny and if you don’t pass, you’re going to be read as a transgender person and then you fall back on the cultural view of trans folk which is freak, disgusting, not worth living, we can hurt you. It has nothing to do with the word, it has everything to do with the cultural attitude. So the word has stirred up a shit storm, but it’s not the word.

— Kate Bornstein on the word "tranny" in this oral history from the Digital Transgender Archive

#m.#the whole interview is very interesting i recommend watching/listening/reading

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reasonsforhope · 7 months

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"Any good gardener knows what a good de-weeding can do for a vegetable garden. As it turns out, it’s much the same for coral reefs.

Following a volunteer “sea-weeding” program launched in Australia, scientists are witnessing compounding coral recovery both in quantity and diversity, and suggest that this simple method has the power to transform degraded reefs overrun by macroalgae.

In a balanced ecosystem, macroalgae is kept in check by the size and health of corals, but as extreme weather events or coral bleaching causes some sections of reef to die, macroalgae has no other neighbor keeping a check on its spread.

Over a period of three years, the joint Earthwatch Institute program led by James Cook University Senior Research Officer Hillary Smith and Professor David Bourne, also at JCU and the Australian Institute of Marine Science, has organized volunteer citizen scientists to help remove macroalgae at two experimental reef sites.

The results of the first three years of work and study have now been published in the Journal of Applied Ecology, and they show a 600% increase in coral recovery rates.

“It’s just like weeding your garden,” Smith said. “Every time we return, the seaweed is growing back less and less, so this method could provide lasting benefit without requiring endless effort.” ...

The importance of the study, Smith details, is that a lot of reef recovery efforts globally are powered by expensive, high-tech, and experimental solutions. The study hoped to show that manual de-weeding was just as effective, and thereby encourage organizations or nations that lack the tech or funding of a country like Australia to pursue sea-weeding as a way of protecting their corals.

“We have yet to see a plateau in coral growth within these plots at Magnetic Island, which is characterized as one of the degraded reefs on the Great Barrier Reef,” Smith said. “We also found an increase in coral diversity, so this method is benefitting a wide range of different coral types.”

Smith said her team are now scoping other locations where the sea-weeding technique could be useful, including the Whitsunday Islands, which are home to a different species of predominant seaweed.

They also want to employ them in French Polynesia, Indonesia, and even Singapore, where experts have identified out-of-control macroalgae spread along coral reefs."

-via Good News Network, September 19, 2023

#algae #seaweed #coral #coral reef #great barrier reef #australia #biodiversity #ecosystem restoration #ecosystem #good news #hope #hope posting

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hiddenlife-manager · 29 days

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Please please please do a carlos (fem receiving) anal in celebration for when he won Singapore

Carlos Sainz Jr x Fem Reader

cw... anal, femrecieving, slight dom carlos, vauge relationship, deal, fingering, lube, condom, doggy, pet names, etc...

notepad... Thank you random person crazy he won again should I do a part two in Australia hehe. Totally helped, I wanted to do more dom but i truly can't see carlos being a mean dom. As for Hamilton I have some bdsm ideas. Literally have been obsessed with F1. I want to do something for Ollie Bearman for his debut but honestly not sure just for the idea that you know i write only smut.

You were cheering in the crowd as you saw Carlos take the podium; you were nothing but the happiest. Carlos broke the red bull streak. It was nothing but the most important moment to exist. You took your headphones off and took a deep breath in.

“Vamos.” You could hear him cry out, and eventually he made it back to you, and you were smiling. He was covered in champagne. You handed him a towel and helped him dry.

“You did absolutely amazing.” You smiled as you brushed aside his wet hair, and he couldn't help but smirk. He grabbed you by the waist and stood there as others took pictures.

“El hotel ahora...” He whispered in your ear and smiled as you waved to the camera. You kissed his lips for the camera. “Thank you all!” He cheered, and you walked away with a smile and knew what was to come.

“FUCK!” You cried out as your face was on the pillows, your hands gripping the sheets from the absolute feeling of stretching. You weren’t sure if it was pain or pleasure, but you knew it felt weird. "Carlito, more lube, please.” You called out, and he pulled himself out slowly. He has been stretching you out for hours.

“Mi amor, you’ll be fine.” He whispered to you lovingly and squirted more lube into your asshole. There, he shoved himself slowly, and he was finally in. A loud moan left you with an abnormal feeling. “Ughhhh.” He let it out, as it was so tight and warm. This is all he has been wanting for months. Not many could guess Carlos Sainz Jr. was into anal. But he could almost never convince his partner until he met you. You told him, believing in him months ago, that if he won again, you would let him. “You promised.” Carlos was cheeky as he said it, and you nodded.

He began to move slowly in and out of your ass. You held onto the sheets, and your mouth was wide open as you couldn’t mutter moans out but somehow felt so much. You groaned softly as he went in and out, and as he quickened the pace, the groans turned into moans of pleasure. The condom he wore allowed him to slip in and out a bit easier.

"Carlito, you seem we-” You were trying to taunt him, but he suddenly slapped your ass, causing a cry of pleasure to leave your mouth so loud that the neighbors of the hotel could hear it. You began to drool from the feeling your head pushed down to the mattress, Carlos slapping your ass. It felt like so much, but you loved it.

“Mhm.” He groaned. You were now a mess. Tears welled from your eyes as you felt so good. Carlos wasn’t just fucking your ass; his thumb slowly snaked to your clit and began to rub slow circles opposite of his quick pace of going in and out of you.

You wouldn’t know it, but Carlos was going to fuck your ass all night; he didn’t care if his thighs felt weak from cumming constantly or not. He desired this; he was simply so happy you agreed. It was sudden, but he knew that you were also into it. When he was gone, you would send him videos of you stretching your ass out, and he loved the videos.

“Haa…ugh…aaah” was all you could let out, and right as you did, Carlos' big arms flipped you and raised your legs slightly over your head. You were moaning hard, unsure why it felt so good. He was going in and out and making sure your hold was perfect. He wiped off the drool from your lips and leaned down, kissing you.

“Princesa mio,” He pulled away and placed his arms on your thigh, plowing your hole, and you didn’t protest; it was as if all thoughts of yours were gone. Eventually he reached his climax, which you could tell as you felt his thighs twitch right against your ass, his moans getting choppier, and the fact that he was getting faster every second. There, you hear him groan for a long time, and he falls onto you. His arms caged you in as you were shaking from the way he would still thrust into you, and there he made you cum, and you cried, holding onto his back as he tried to not fully lay on you.

Breathing could be heard from the two of you, and Carlos finally caught his breath and pulled out of your very tight hole. He smirks and brushes your hair off your face, sweat falling from your forehead.

“Perdoname mi amor.” He takes his condom off and reaches for a new one after wiping himself with a rag. You nod, wanting him to hold you even tighter. “I won because of you.” You laughed with a low breath.

“Let's do it every time you are on the podium from now on.” He smirked and grabbed your legs, pulling you to the edge of the bed as he squirted more lube.

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delusionalbubble · 2 years

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Countries You Didn't Know Are Neighbors

Countries You Didn’t Know Are Neighbors

Wondering about the strangest borders in the world? On surface, our planet looks like it’s been discovered to its full potential which is true to some extent. However, there are still tons of strange things in it which we have no idea about such as the things that could only be found in Asia, and Japan in particular. The same rule goes for the borders between countries. While even geography…

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theland-downunder · 2 years

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Plenty of them out an about today, damn noisy things they are.

#australia #australian birds #noisy neighbors #Karumba #work life #far north queensland

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luvyeni · 6 months

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MY SHY NEIGHBOR ( chapter. 14 )

— CHAPTER FOURTEEN: my favorite cashier 🥰🤍…

— 𖦹 warnings? none

previous chapter - next chapter - my shy neighbor masterlist

You opened the door to the café, immediately coming into jeongins view. “Hey.” He waved; you waved back. “Well, isn’t it my favorite cashier.” He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, smiling to himself. “D-do you want the same.”

“You know it.” You said, “And what drink would you recommend.” He thought about it, before pointing. “I order that every day.” You nodded, “then i’ll have that too.” You smiled. “Are you eating here today too?” he asked. “Yeah I have a while until my next class.”

You found your favorite seat, pulling out your phone to wait for your food. You checked your messages, frowning — it had been a week since your mystery man texted you, he was supposed to be only a client, but you actually looked forward to his text.

Why was he ignoring you? Had you crossed the line by saying you wanted to see him? No way, guys would beg to see you — they’d pay money to spend the night with you, even if you knew you’d never do it. Maybe that’s what made him different. Maybe he only wanted to keep it strictly over the phone. By why? “(yn)?”

“I’m about to go on my lunch break.” Jeongin told his co-worker. “Good, you can take this to your girlfriend.” He handed him a tray. “My girlfriend?” he said, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“So that girl isn’t your girlfriend?” He pointed to where you sat. “n-no, she’s not.” He stuttered; you were the only girl he could mutter a single word to unless it was a coworker. “But i’ve seen you talking to her, which is rare for you, you know she also asks for you when you aren’t here?”

You ask about him? Why? “We’re just friends.” He said. “Well, she’s cute, you should set me up.” He took the tray from the boy. “Stop saying nonsense, i’ll be back soon.” He walked over to you; you hadn’t acknowledged him yet.

“yn?” you finally look up at him, he sat your tray down. “Thank you.” You said, “Are you on your break now?” He nodded. “Good now you can sit with me.” You pointed to the seat in front of you. “m-me?” you chuckled. “Well there’s no one else i’d be talking to silly.”

He hesitantly sat down, you past him the drink. “Here, drink this.” You smiled, “I get these for free, you didn’t have to.” You flagged him off. “I know, that’s why I also got you this.” You handed him half of the dessert. “Eat up.”

You watched him pick up the fork, taking a bite of the dessert. “Good, now stop being so scared, we’ve been talking for a few weeks you shouldn’t be this scared of me anymore.” You said, his ears turned. “I-i’m sorry.” He said, you reached out grabbing his hand. “Don’t stress it too much.”

He hated that he was like it this, being so shy has never worked out in his favor, we’ll expect those few times, drunk girls don’t really care if you’re shy or not, they just want to jump on the closest cute guy they see — that’s a story for a different time.

“I talk to much anyway, so I can do the talking for me and you.” You smiled, he mirrored yours. “Does that sound good?” He chuckled, looking down realizing you haven’t taken your hands off his — his heart thumping for a second, he followed your hand. “You have a tattoo?”

Where has he seen that tattoo? Before he could get another look, you took your hand away. “it’s embarrassing, me and lily got matching tattoos and they completely fucked it up.” You laughed, covering it up, that’s where he probably seen it, but he could’ve sworn he’d seen it somewhere else. “Ah, you two must be close?” You nodded. “We’re both from australia, she was the first person I actually met besides chan.” You spoke.

Sadly, it was time for him to get up, but he didn’t want to, he enjoyed talking to you. “You have to go back to work now?” He frowned, nodding. “Sadly.” He stood up, you grabbed his hand. “Hold on.” You reached into your bag, grabbing a pen and a piece of paper. “I know we live next door to each other, but if you ever want to hang out when you’re not at work, you can call me.”

He watched you writing your number down. “Here.” You put the paper in his hand. “Make sure to actually use it, I really want to hang out with you.” You said, he nodded, praying you didn’t notice his red ear, or at least ignored it. “o-okay, i will.”

“Good.” You let his arm go with a smile, and he turned to walk away, smiling to himself. “Oh, it’s you.” He ran into your friend. “Mat!” He heard you yell. “It’s nice to see you, you should come out with us again, you cook really good meat.” Jeongin nodded, walking back to his register.

He watched you conversation with your friend, looking over at him, smiling waving. He waved back, smiling. “Jeongin pay attention, you have a customer.”

He shook his head; you were all he was focusing on, he forgot he was at work. “i’m so sorry, welcome to Love café how can I help you.”

And this time he actually said it with a smile.

— ( taglist. CLOSED ) @soulsbbg @k-poplv @yourmomscuntis2tighy @bbokarimenu @enczen @queen-in-the-shadows @thesweetesttattoo @ririlinoriri @aloverga @ashiitex @ddazed-lhs @heartsforhyunjin @chlodavids @simp4myself @surefornext @lostwonderwall @xxr-s4sha @charmer-c @vixensss @frobin4ever @bmnyy @semi-semiisbae @m111nho @i2innie @aalexyuuuhm @iraa567 @cheshireshiya @ihrtlix @abbiestearsricochet @niaalove @skzswife @babrieeee @thisisnotjacinta @luvskai @ikeusol @costalmaine @whos-kkira @minhosprettywife @hey-hey-heybitch @jeongins-version @denisaandreea20 @lovesunshinefelix @222brainrot @thatgirlkay @ss3oung @number1jeonginstan @whitney190 @jongseongsluvr @chesemonky @worcesheshestershiresauce @puppy-minnie @prettygirlsstanskz @hanniemylovelyquokka

©LUVYENI

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weemssapphic · 4 months

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Could I request a fluff fic for Miranda :0?

Maybe the weathers getting colder, cuffing szn etc Miranda falls for one of her neighbors who keeps bringing her baked goods, she’s unaware that said neighbor likes her!!! (unaware queen). Literally anything cute and sweet to get me thru the treacherous winter of Northern Europe HAHA

A/N: Hello! Sooooo a. this became a bit more of a Christmas fic than a winter fic, I hope that's okay, and b. I also failed to finish it before Christmas as I had originally planned 🥴 buuut I do hope you enjoy anyway! HUGE shoutout to @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze and @agathaandgwenslesbian for beta'ing and hyping me up to post this, I love you both 🥺💖

Merry Christmas, Baby

Words: ~6.3k | ao3 link in title Warnings: mentions of alcohol/drinking, cigarettes/smoking

You’ve been living in your new apartment for about three months now, after leaving home and moving all the way to Australia for work. You like to think you’ve settled in well: you’re starting to get into a routine, you’ve managed to decorate most of your apartment and make it feel like home, Sydney isn’t as daunting as it was in the beginning - you were even able to give a tourist directions the other day.

The only thing missing is, well, friends. You get along well enough with your coworkers, they’ve been welcoming and have even started to invite you out. But more weekends than not you find yourself exploring the city on your own or hanging out on your couch with takeout, watching Netflix and thinking about your friends back home. You try to FaceTime them as often as you can, but the time difference makes it hard, and sometimes it makes you sad to ‘see’ them and know you can’t just meet up like you used to.

To stave off some of the loneliness you’ve been feeling, you’ve spent the past few weeks attempting to meet more people - and one person in particular has caught your eye: your neighbor, Miranda. You met her in the hallway during your first week in the building - she’d come up the stairs as you were fumbling with your keys, struggling a bit as your arms were full of groceries. She’d immediately offered to help, her eyes wide and her smile bright as she’d rushed over to you and grabbed the grocery bags right out of your hands. The way she looked down at you, watching your every move with great interest as you unlocked your door, brought a flush to your cheeks that only got worse during the subsequent small talk.

Your interactions since then have been a bit sparse - you keep hoping you’ll catch a glimpse of her in the hallway, but you rarely do. Sometimes you’ll hear her apartment door fall shut late at night as you’re falling asleep, or you’ll hear her footsteps on the stairs early in the morning while you’re still getting ready - wherever she works, she seems to have irregular shifts.

~~~

It’s a Sunday evening and you’re spending it alone (again). When your friend back home had canceled your scheduled FaceTime call at the last minute, you’d decided to distract yourself by baking. As you put together the ingredients for blueberry muffins, you find your mind wandering to your tall, blonde neighbor - wondering what it is she does for work, where she’s from (you thought you caught a British accent but you weren’t sure anymore), whether or not she’s seeing anyone…

The sound of the timer pulls you out of your thoughts and you turn off the oven and pull the muffin tray out, setting it on the counter. Your heart sinks when you realize there’s no way you’re going to finish them all by yourself. You suppose you could bring some to work… You bite your lip, your brow furrowing as you stare down the baked goods. Perhaps you could bring Miranda some? Butterflies erupt in your tummy when you picture her opening her front door, her lips stretching into a smile that reaches her bright blue eyes. Perhaps she would invite you in, perhaps the two of you would spend the evening on her couch, getting closer by the hour as you get to know one another. Perhaps…

You shake your head, trying not to get ahead of yourself. You’ll just stop by with a few muffins and see what happens. Maybe she’ll be busy. Or she won’t even be home and you’ll be forced to leave them next to her door.

After preparing a small basket of baked goods and changing from your rattiest sweatpants into a pair of jeans, you slip out of your apartment and cross the hall. Your heart begins to pound, your hands turning clammy as you bring your fist up to Miranda’s door. After a brief moment’s hesitation and a deep breath, you knock.

At first, you’re met with silence - your heart sinks a bit, and you try to ignore the little pang of disappointment that begins to creep up on you. But just as you’re about to turn around, you hear a shuffling behind the door. It opens just a crack - you hear an “Oh!” - and then it swings open fully, revealing Miranda in a navy bathrobe. Her hair is wet, slicked back - one strand falls over her eyebrow and she pushes it back, a smile growing on her lips as she looks down at you.

“Hello,” she says, sounding a little breathless. You feel yourself flush as you realize you must have caught her just out of the shower - perhaps it took her so long to answer the door because she wasn’t dressed yet, and the thought makes you slightly dizzy.

“Hi.” You can’t help but gawk a bit, and the thought of just dropping the muffins at her feet and leaving before you can make a fool of yourself briefly crosses your mind.

Her brows furrow slightly and so do yours, before you realize that you should probably say something else.

“I just wanted to…” You gesture vaguely at the basket you’re holding. “If this is a bad time, I can come back later,” you manage to stutter out, focusing all your efforts on keeping your eyes on her face.

“Oh, you’re alright,” Miranda says, craning her neck a bit to catch a glimpse at what you’re holding. “Are those muffins?”

“Yeah. For you.” You thrust your arms out, holding the basket towards her. Her eyes widen, darting between you and the basket as she takes it from you.

Her entire face seems to light up with excitement - she looks positively giddy. “Did you make these?”

“Yes! Yeah. I like baking. And I made too many. So I thought I would see if you want some.”

The smile that’s broken out across Miranda’s face is one you wish you could save and put in your pocket to look at on your worst days. It lights up her entire face, making her eyes sparkle and her nose crinkle - it’s the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. You’re so distracted by it that you nearly miss her next words.

“Would you like to come in? I was going to make some tea.”

“Sure.”

You blush as Miranda steps aside, allowing you to step over the threshold of her apartment. She shuts the door behind you then walks past you into her kitchen. Even the way she walks is attractive to you - the mesmerizing sway of her hips, the way she pushes her shoulders back and swings her arms, her long strides. Taking a deep breath, you follow her and lean against the door frame, watching as she sets down the muffins on the counter and puts on the electric kettle.

“I didn’t know if you’d be home,” you say, breaking the silence. You’re a bit embarrassed that your voice comes out hoarse, and you clear your throat. “I don’t see you around much. Do you do shift work?”

Miranda glances back at you as she rummages through the cupboards for two mugs. She smiles softly. “Sort of. I’ve been on call a lot lately.”

“Oh.” You cock your head to the side. “What do you do?”

“I’m, uh, a police constable.”

Your eyes widen as you process the information. It makes sense, you realize - and then you feel your mouth go dry as you picture Miranda in a police uniform.

“What do you do?”

Her question breaks you out of your trance, and you can feel your cheeks turn red. “Oh, um, that’s… I work in accounting.” You swallow back your embarrassment at having a “boring” desk job, your eyes darting around Miranda’s kitchen - anything to avoid meeting her gaze.

“Steady work then,” she says - you can hear the smile in her voice and you dare to steal a glance at her face. Her expression is soft, completely at ease, and you can’t help but feel your shoulders relax a little. “How come you moved to Sydney? Did you move here for a guy?”

A sound between a snort and a chuckle escapes your lips and you quickly look away again. “Nope.” You want to say that you’re more into women, but you get nervous and something stops you. “I just needed a change of scenery. I figured moving to an English-speaking country would be easiest, and I thought the weather here would be nicer than in the UK.”

Miranda laughs a full-belly laugh, throwing her head back. “I’m from the UK, you know.”

“Tell me I’m wrong then,” you tease with a grin.

Her eyes flicker briefly over your form, an amused grin on her face. “You’re… you’re not wrong.” She ducks her head in surrender - then the kettle goes off and she turns to busy herself with preparing the tea.

“So why did you move to Sydney then?”

“My boyfriend at the time was Australian.” Miranda hands you one of the mugs, then leans back against the counter, taking a sip of her own tea and observing you carefully. You try not to let on to the way that your stomach sinks when you hear the word “boyfriend” - it doesn’t mean she’s straight, you remind yourself (and besides, even if she did like women - it doesn’t mean she’d like you). You nod and hum in acknowledgment, hoping to come off as casual and unaffected as you sip your tea.

Miranda sets down her mug and reaches over the small kitchen table to grab a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Once again you find yourself mesmerized as long, slender fingers pull a cigarette out of the pack, placing it between her pale lips as she lights it.

For a moment, she seems unaware of your presence - she takes a deep drag from the cigarette, her fingers playing with the lighter as she exhales a cloud of smoke. Then her eyes fall to your face and widen slightly. “Oh, God, sorry. Do you mind?”

You shake your head - it’s not your apartment so it’s not like you have a say anyway, and, if you’re honest, you find it a bit hot. “Go ahead, it’s your apartment.”

She shoots you a grateful smile and takes another drag from the cigarette. “You want one?”

You nod and she tosses you the pack. Once you’ve plucked a cigarette from it, she steps towards you. “Here, let me,” she says, moving to light it for you as her own cigarette dangles from between her lips. She gets closer than would probably be necessary and her proximity makes you feel a little faint - you can smell the shampoo in her still-damp hair, and the smoke on her breath. Your eyes are trained on the lighter - when the flame goes out, you glance up, only to be met with the brightest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. They’re even lighter than you initially thought and her gaze is intense - it’s slightly overwhelming.

“Thanks,” you whisper hoarsely, forcing yourself to blink and take a step back. Miranda’s eyes are fixed curiously on your face as she plucks her cigarette from between her lips. She tilts her head, her lips parting into a smile.

“What?” There’s a playful edge to her voice and her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You freeze, your cheeks turning pink. “Like what?”

“You find me intimidating, don’t you?” You open your mouth to argue but she cuts you off, gesturing down the length of her body. “It’s my height, isn’t it? I get that a lot.”

“It’s not- I mean…” You shrug lamely, taking a sip of your tea to give yourself a moment to think. “It’s not you, I’ve just had a long day. A long few months, actually.” Okay, so you’re deflecting - but it feels way too nice just to bask in Miranda’s presence, and you don’t want it to end so soon by making things awkward.

Miranda’s face softens in an instant, little creases appearing between her brows. “From the move? It can be so hard to uproot your life like that.”

It’s a phrase you’ve heard before - people trying to sympathize with you, looking for something meaningful to say. But with Miranda, it feels different. With the way she’s looking at you, it feels like she truly understands.

~~~

In the past few weeks you’ve gotten into the habit of bringing Miranda baked goods - always on the pretext of having made extras for work and other neighbors (though you never have any intention of giving them to anyone except Miranda). It’s more than worth the hours spent in the kitchen to see the smile that lights up her face when she answers the door. Sometimes she invites you in for tea and a cigarette, sometimes there’s only time for a bit of small talk before one of you needs to get going - but each time, butterflies erupt in your belly and you find yourself wishing you were brave enough to make a move.

What you don’t know is that Miranda finds herself wishing the same thing. Sure, she loves everything you make her (nothing you’ve ever baked her has lasted more than 2 days at most), but the real reason her face breaks into a splitting grin when she answers the door is because it’s you who’s standing there.

Miranda can’t get enough of you - you’re easy to talk to, you make her laugh, you seem to take her as she is. And you’re damn beautiful. The most exciting part of her week is wondering on which evening you’ll come by unannounced after work, and she finds herself praying she’ll have the time to talk to you.

One such evening, you’ve come over with a tray of red velvet cupcakes - decorated with festive little Christmas tree sprinkles. Miranda’s just gotten off a shift and has the evening off, and she’s never been more grateful as she leads you into her kitchen and turns on the kettle. You make yourself right at home, settling on a kitchen chair and tucking your legs underneath you as you reach for the pack of cigarettes on the table - it’s almost become a routine now, and you look like you belong there. Miranda likes that thought more than she’d care to admit.

Still, despite how often you’ve come by lately, she feels there’s still some sort of barrier between the two of you. Your conversations are the best part of her week, yet they tend to feel a bit… shallow. She’s desperate to get to know you better but she’s holding herself back - the fear of driving you away, of being too much for you to handle, causes her to freeze up. You’re just being nice, trying to make new friends in Australia, and here she is, falling for you one red velvet cupcake at a time.

“Mir?” Your voice pulls her out of her thoughts and she looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. She tries desperately to remember what you were talking to her about, but she realizes quickly that her efforts are futile - she was too busy admiring the lock of hair falling across your cheek, the way you ran your fingers through your hair to push it back.

“Sorry.” She offers you a sheepish smile, her cheeks slowly turning scarlet.

You smile back, and her heart skips a beat. “I asked if you’re staying in Sydney for Christmas or if you’re going back to London?”

“I’m staying here. I work on Christmas, so…” She frowns slightly - she hasn’t gone home for Christmas in a few years. Usually, she works and spends her off-hours curled up in bed watching Christmassy rom-coms by herself. She’s gotten used to it. “Are you? Going home for Christmas?”

“Nah. I blew all my savings in the move, can’t afford the plane ticket.” Something about the way you shrug your shoulders, your gaze dropping to the floor, tells Miranda that your nonchalance is a front.

“Would you like to come over?” Miranda, what are you saying? “We could cook something and watch a movie together.” Miranda, shut up! “Maybe you could sleep over and we could keep each other company.” Oh, great, now you’ve done it! Miranda’s eyes widen as she realizes what she’s saying, but she can’t take it back now - and, to be honest, she doesn’t want to take it back. Her heart hammers wildly against her ribcage as she waits for you to reply. It only takes you seconds, really, but those few seconds might as well be hours as time slows and Miranda begins to find it hard to breathe.

“Oh, it’s fine, you don’t have to take me in! I’ll be okay, I wouldn’t want to impose.” Your words come out in a rush and your cheeks are turning pink - Miranda’s heart starts to sink and she scrambles to find the right words to save the conversation.

“You wouldn’t be imposing, I’d have just had a few beers by myself after work anyway.” She chuckles nervously, before adding, “I could use the company.”

She quickly looks away from you, finding the brief moment of vulnerability too much to handle - she couldn’t bear to see the look in your eyes at the moment, certainly one of pity or judgment.

“Oh… Well in that case, I’d love to spend Christmas with you. If that’s okay.”

Miranda’s eyes widen and she glances over at you to see you smiling shyly - her heart stutters in her chest and she feels her stomach flip pleasantly. She lets out a shaky breath, unable to stop the wide smile that’s creeping up her face. “Okay then.”

~~~

Ever since that evening in Miranda’s apartment, you’ve been buzzing with excitement. She’d ended up giving you her number so that you could plan when to come over, and it’s taken all of your restraint not to bug her every waking second - you wouldn’t want her getting sick of you and regretting inviting you over.

But as Christmas is just a few days away, you decide to shoot her a text as you’re lying in bed at night.

Y/N: Hey there, it’s Y/N! I just wanted to ask what time you wanted me to come over on Christmas? :)

You toss your phone aside, not expecting Miranda to text back anytime soon - it’s already late, after all. When your screen lights up moments later, however, your heart begins to pound.

Miranda: Hey! Miranda: I work until 4 Miranda: So evening I would say

Y/N: How does 6 sound? Is that too early?

Miranda: That sounds perfect :)

Y/N: Great! Should I bring anything?

Miranda: Just yourself ;) Miranda: Wait Miranda: Actually Miranda: Do you remember the cookies you brought me last week?

Y/N: What, am I not enough for you? ;) Y/N: (I’ll make some more)

Miranda: Are you sure?

Y/N: Absolutely!! Anything for my favorite neighbor.

Miranda: You’re too good to me

By the time you’re done texting her, you’re grinning down at your phone like an idiot. The screen goes black and you catch sight of your reflection - you blush and bury your head in your pillow. For the first time since you moved, you’re actually starting to get excited for Christmas.

~~~

Three days later you’re wrapping up a pair of Christmas pajamas (red, covered in little white snowflakes - you have a matching pair) to give to Miranda - you want to give her something for Christmas, but you don’t know her all that well yet to get her something personal. Still, you think (or at least, you hope) she’ll find the pajamas silly and fun.

Armed with the gift, a huge tupperware box full of candy cane cookies, your keys, and your phone, you pad across the hall and knock gently on Miranda’s door. You hear her muffled voice yell “coming”, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps, before the door swings open. Miranda’s eyes flick briefly down your body, over the wrapped gift and the cookies, before she finally meets your gaze. She’s slightly out of breath, and her lips curl up into a smile that meets her eyes. What you would give to kiss those lips…

“Merry Christmas,” you say, smiling back and forcing your eyes to remain trained on her own.

“Right! Merry Christmas!” You could swear you see Miranda’s cheeks turn pink, but before you have time to question it she’s ushering you into her apartment, her hand coming to rest on your lower back as she steers you towards the kitchen. “I did some food shopping the other day. I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat, I’m not usually big on holiday foods and I didn’t have time to prepare anything because of work.”

Miranda’s rambling has you swooning - you can tell she’s nervous, though you aren’t sure why. If only she knew you’d happily eat frozen pizza or cereal for Christmas dinner, as long as you get to spend it with her.

“It’s fine, I don’t care much about Christmas dinner, we can eat anything.” You hope that you’re coming off as reassuring, though you can’t really tell as Miranda blushes again and lights up a cigarette.

“Maybe a curry?” she asks, chewing at her bottom lip.

“Yeah, that sounds great. Just tell me what you need help with.”

She seems to relax a bit, heading over to the fridge and pulling out ingredients. “What do you drink? Do you want a beer?”

“Please.”

The two of you spend the next 45 minutes side by side in the small kitchen, cooking, drinking, talking - mostly it’s Miranda, telling you about her workday. When she’s done chopping vegetables, she reaches for the pack of cigarettes again - “sorry, nerves,” she says with a faint smile. You still can’t fathom what she’s nervous about but you don’t want to push her, so you shrug it off and turn your attention to the curry that’s simmering in the pan. You dip a spoon into the sauce to try it, humming in delight the second the flavors explode on your tongue.

“This is really good, try it!” Without thinking you bring the spoon to Miranda’s mouth and, without thinking, she closes her lips around it. Her eyelids flutter shut and she lets out a little noise of pleasure that’s dangerously close to a moan. Heat pools in your stomach, your eyes glued to her lips as you slide the spoon out of her mouth - it’s the first time you notice a little scar above her lip, and you swallow thickly.

You quickly avert your gaze as Miranda’s eyes open again, taking a sip of your beer as you check on the rice.

“I was thinking we could just eat in the living room and watch a movie?” Miranda suggests when the curry is done cooking. You agree and help Miranda carry the bowls and a couple bottles of beer into the living room. It’s small, like yours, and a little cluttered. There’s a string of fairy lights above the window and a small Christmas tree sat atop a side table. Miranda’s eyes follow your gaze and she chuckles.

“I actually put that up two days ago, I panicked when I realized I didn’t have any Christmas decorations up at all.”

“You didn’t have to decorate on my account,” you tease, earning yourself a laugh.

“Oh but what kind of Christmas would it be without a tree?”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Miranda smiles at you as she settles on the couch, crossing her legs and setting her bowl in her lap. She gestures for you to join her. You tuck your knees underneath you, angling your body towards her. As you eat, you fall into an easy conversation - you find yourself getting even more comfortable in Miranda’s presence, feeling right at home in her apartment. You can tell she’s relaxing as well - she stretches her legs out, her toes (clad in Christmas-themed socks) touching the side of your thigh.

“I got you something, by the way,” Miranda says suddenly, leaning over to place her almost-empty bowl on the table. You follow suit, a smile lighting up your face.

“I got you something, too - wait here!” Miranda looks somewhat surprised as you jump up and rush into the kitchen, returning with the gift you’d brought. She now has a gift of her own on her lap, and she’s picking at the edge of the wrapping paper as you settle back down beside her, a soft smile on her face.

You exchange gifts and Miranda’s chewing nervously at her bottom lip as she watches you tear open the wrapping paper. It’s a cookbook for baking - you can’t help but laugh, and you look up to see Miranda’s cheeks turn pink.

“Is this meant to be a hint?” you tease, and Miranda chuckles nervously.

“Sorry, I-”

“I love it,” you cut her off, setting the book down beside you and leaning over to wrap your arms tightly around her torso. She returns the hug - her arms are strong and comforting and you’re immediately enveloped in her scent. It takes everything in you not to kiss her.

After pulling away, you gesture eagerly to the gift that’s in her lap. She has a look of nervous excitement on her face as she begins to unwrap it - her smile widens when she takes the pjs out of the wrapping paper and holds them in front of her.

“I hope they fit, I guessed your size. I have the same ones and you seem like the type of person who would like them.”

Miranda’s eyes widen as she looks over at you, her expression nothing short of giddy. “You have the same ones? Wear them! We can match.”

Her reaction is exactly what you hoped it would be. The prospect of wearing matching Christmas pjs is both adorable and a little intimate, and you’re filled with nervous anticipation as you head across the hall to your apartment to get changed.

When you get back to Miranda’s apartment a few minutes later, the blonde is sitting on her couch with her legs tucked underneath her. She smiles so widely that her nose crinkles, and she opens her arms to you. Without a second thought, you allow yourself to be pulled into a tight hug.

“Do you like them?” you ask as you pull away.

“I love them!” The smile on her face is genuine, her eyes shining brightly, and you can’t help but blush, your entire body tingling a bit as your eyes drift down her body.

~~~

You’re about an hour into the second movie of the night and you’re already several beers deep (you’ve lost count, to be honest). You’ve scooted closer and closer to Miranda as the evening has worn on, and now you’re practically on top of her - your legs are bent at the knee, tucked against your body and resting on the outside of her thigh, your shoulder is all but glued to her own.

You drain the rest of your beer, then pout at the bottle. “It’s empty,” you say, more to yourself than to Miranda, who chuckles and shifts beside you.

“I can get you another one?”

“It’s fine,” you say with a giggle. “Maybe I should stop drinking.” You’re not drunk but you’re definitely tipsy - you turn your head to face Miranda a little too quickly and, for a brief moment, the room spins, causing you to burst into another fit of giggles.

Your eyes meet Miranda’s, before dropping to her lips and getting stuck there. They’re curled into an amused smile as she chuckles at your inebriated state - though the smile slowly fades as her brows begin to crease. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and your own laughter quickly dies in your throat, your mouth going dry. You can tell Miranda’s breathing has gone shallow, her eyes falling to your lips. The air around you becomes thick and heavy, and Miranda’s gaze darts away.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, scrambling to scoot away - before she can get very far, your arm shoots out and holds her in place.

“What are you sorry for?” you whisper. The only sound you can hear is the pounding of your own heart in your ears as you wait for Miranda to respond. Her gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, a lovely shade of pink rising in her cheeks.

“I-” she starts, cutting herself off as she swallows visibly.

“Do you want to kiss me?” You don’t know what prompted you to be so bold (probably the alcohol), but when a soft, barely audible whimper escapes Miranda’s throat, you can’t say you regret asking.

“Yes.”

You definitely don’t regret asking.

“I want to kiss you, too,” you whisper, leaning in slightly as you fix your gaze on soft-looking, pale pink lips that glisten slightly in the dim light of the living room. Then you stop yourself, hesitating as the room spins again. You’ve dreamed of kissing those same lips for weeks now but something is off.

The alcohol, you realize - you don’t want your first kiss with Miranda to be clouded by alcohol. You want to appreciate and remember the moment fully, you want to savor every second. So, as much as you’re dying to close the gap and absolutely ravage the lovely, beautiful woman sitting next to you, you decide to pull back. “But I’m going to wait until tomorrow. I want to be completely sober for that. And… if you still want to kiss me tomorrow… then I’ll kiss you.”

Miranda nods slowly, looking a bit dazed. “That’s, uh,” she starts, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat. “That’s a good idea.” She shifts in her seat, crossing one thigh tightly over the other. The air is still thick and heavy, and it takes everything in you not to say ‘fuck it’ and push her back onto the couch - but you mean it, you really do want to be sober for that. So you lean back, putting a few inches of distance between yourself and Miranda for the remainder of the film.

You feel yourself becoming more and more tired, and by the time the credits are rolling, you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. Pushing yourself up off the couch, you sway slightly as you make it to your feet, and immediately decide to sit back down so that you don’t fall over.

“You sure you can make it back down the hall okay?” Miranda teases, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she watches you lean back against the sofa.

You roll your eyes and shoot her a playful glare. “I’m not drunk. I’m just tired.” As if to emphasize your point, you yawn widely as you finish your last sentence - Miranda laughs.

“You can sleep here if you want,” she offers - then her face goes pale and she rushes to explain herself. “Not with me of course, but the couch is quite comfortable. Or you can take the bed and I’ll take the couch, that’s fine, too-”

She’s talking a mile a minute and it’s the most charming thing you’ve ever heard - especially since you definitely would sleep with her. You’d just prefer to do it sober. Giggling, you decide to show her mercy and cut her off. “Thanks for the offer. I think I’ll take the couch if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, let me get you some blankets.” She turns off the tv and stands, leaving the room for a minute and coming back with a pillow and an armful of blankets. You get up and try to help her to make a makeshift bed for you, but your movements are a bit sluggish and you realize you’re just getting in her way, so you end up perching on the edge of the coffee table until she gives you the go.

You snuggle into the blankets - they smell like Miranda, and it takes everything in you not to bury your nose in them and moan out loud. Instead, you shoot Miranda a smile and mutter a sleepy ‘thank you’ - she nods, telling you to yell if you need her, then turns to leave.

“Oh, Miranda?” You lift your head off the pillow and crane your neck towards the blonde.

She pauses in the doorway, turning back to face you as she runs a hand through her hair. “Hmm?”

“Merry Christmas.” You beam at her, even as your eyes threaten to close any second. The evening was far from a traditional Christmas celebration, but it was the best Christmas you’ve had in a long time.

“Merry Christmas,” she replies, her smile soft and genuine, before turning around and disappearing into her bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her.

~~~

You’re out like a light the second Miranda is gone, completely oblivious to the internal struggle she faces as she curls up in her own bed. She tries to close her eyes and force herself to sleep, but she’s not tired at all - her mind is racing and her heart is pounding, her entire body responding to the evening she’s shared with you. The laughter, the sense of familiarity and peace, the tension when you nearly kissed her. And, God, does she want to kiss you. But you’re tipsy, and you probably just said that in the heat of the moment - she gets it, sometimes alcohol makes her flirty and a little horny as well. You probably won’t remember that conversation in the morning - and you probably won’t want to kiss her anymore either.

She can’t help the way her heart sinks as she comes to that realization, and it keeps her up for the better part of the night. She feels like she’s just managed to nod off when the morning light starts to filter in through the curtains and she groans, burying her face in her pillow.

Thud.

Miranda freezes for a moment, her blood going cold as she hears a noise coming from her living room. Then she remembers that you’re sleeping on her couch and her body relaxes again. She’s nervous, wondering if you’ll be awkward about the previous evening’s sexual tension, but her curiosity about whether or not you’re already awake wins out and she pushes herself off the bed, smoothing a hand over her hair and wiping the sleep out of her eyes before creeping into the hallway, careful to be quiet in case you’re still sleeping.

There’s a clattering coming from the living room though, and she finds you collecting the beer bottles from last night that are still scattered across the coffee table.

“Hello,” Miranda says, her voice still a little hoarse from sleep.

Your head whips around towards the doorway and your cheeks turn pink. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to clean up a bit. Did I wake you?” The way you’re chewing at your bottom lip is adorable and makes Miranda want to kiss you senseless. She chuckles and shakes her head.

“No, I was awake anyway. Here, let me help.” Miranda helps you clear off the coffee table, heading into the kitchen with an armful of bottles and her empty bowl from dinner. You’re right behind her with the rest of the dishes and you immediately make your way to the sink and start washing them - it feels so domestic that it makes Miranda’s heart flutter, and she has to look away and focus on something else so that you can’t see the blush on her cheeks or the yearning that’s surely shining in her eyes.

“Do you want coffee?” she asks, waiting for your affirmative hum before starting to make some. She’s so focused on preparing the coffee machine that she misses you turning off the sink and padding over to her - she yelps as you press against her back, placing your hands on the counter on either side of her and boxing her in. Her heart is racing, skipping beats left and right as your body heat warms her from behind. Drawing in a sharp breath, she turns around to face you.

“Miranda?” Your voice is low and a little shaky, and your cheeks are flushed - gorgeously so, Miranda finds her mouth going dry.

“Yes?” she croaks out.

“Remember how I said I’d kiss you today if you still wanted to?”

All Miranda can do is nod, her mouth hanging open as all the blood rushes to her face.

“Well, I guess I wanted to ask you if you still wanted to kiss me? Because I’m sober now and I still want to kiss you.” You look just as nervous as Miranda feels - she nods again, afraid her voice will betray how badly she wants you.

“Please, say it,” you plead, your eyes wide and earnest. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Y-yes. I- I want to kiss you.”

Your lips curl up into a soft smile and your hands move from the counter to Miranda’s waist, your grip firm as if you’re afraid she’ll run away from you. You press yourself up onto your toes until your face is mere inches away from her own. She can feel your breath on her face, warm and shallow. Her eyes are glued to your lips, wondering when you’ll close the gap - then you do, your lips soft and plush as they press gently against hers.

She allows her eyelids to flutter shut and kisses you back, her own hands reaching out tentatively to cup your cheeks. You smile into the kiss and she takes the opportunity to deepen it - you groan softly into her mouth as her tongue brushes against yours, and she swallows the sound, groaning back in return.

“I didn’t think you’d remember,” she murmurs, her thumb stroking your cheek.

“As if I haven’t been thinking about that since the moment I first met you,” you tease with a seductive grin, before wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her down for a second kiss, even more passionate than the last.

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#miranda hilmarson x reader #miranda hilmarson #top of the lake #top of the lake: china girl #i haven't posted in almost 2.5 months and i'm ANXIOUS #hype a girl up 😭#i also clearly couldn't be arsed to come up with a better title i'm SORRY 🥲

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lilmashae · 3 months

Text

first and last! — park sunghoon x female reader

wordcount: 3.4k | warnings: eventual smut, light angst, maybe some form of enemies to lovers, petnames, weird timestamps (skips) | summary: your unrequited love, park sunghoon realizes just how much he needs you: resulting in a rekindling of past love! | author's note: i think i lost the plot somewhere along the way... oops !

you wake up to a sunny morning, drawing back your curtains to let the light flood your room. it felt like a perfect day: your uniform fit just right, the sun beamed brilliantly, and the flowers outside painted a pretty picture. but nothing quite matched the charm of sunghoon, your neighbor, pacing in his room across the lawn, searching for something. you often stole glances at him through his window — studying, getting ready, or simply lost in thought. however, today he caught you staring, and after receiving a small wave from you, he simply huffed and closed his blinds.

despite being neighbors with a thin lawn being the only thing separating you, your worlds couldn't be more different. in yours, sunghoon was everything, while in his, you barely registered. yet, you weren't persistent, except when it mattered — like now, with your long term crush on him ever since you were younger and your parents would force you two to have playdates.

"hey park!" you'd call out from behind him as you two walked to school together in the eighth grade. "y/n..."

sure, he wasn't always the nicest, but it was his moments of kindness that stood out to you: like when he helped you up after watching you fall off your bike when you were younger, or standing up to your bullies in the tenth grade. he was always there for you when it truly mattered, wiping your tears and helping you up — even helping you pass every exam, calming your mind when you were frustrated. "fuck, i just can't do it!" you cursed with your head buried into your arms. "you're fine, y/n... you've got it all under control, okay?"

as you grew up, you also couldn't help but notice his sudden attractiveness too. he was everything you’d written about in your diary: dreamy and smart. meanwhile, he seemed indifferent, brushing off your affection without a second thought.

you crossed paths every day, attending the same high school and walking home together. "hey, sunghoon! wait up!" every time your eyes met, your heart skipped a beat—maybe there was he liked you in the slightest? but those hopes usually crashed against the reality of sunghoon's cold responses.

"i don't want to be late," he'd say — his voice monotone yet strangely comforting to you. you'd try to engage him, but his indifference always kept you at arm's length.

one afternoon, when the school was empty, you mustered the courage to confess your feelings — only to be met with rejection, delivered with a cruelty that cut deeper than any blade could. it hurt more than you expected, realizing that your pursuit of him was absolutely fruitless.

he'd been your neighbor your whole life, yet he'd always been so distant — that sliver of lawn must've been a lot bigger than you remembered. even from childhood to adolescence and now adulthood, you were always the one chasing him, praying for a flourishing love that never bloomed in the slightest. and as he walked away, leaving you shattered, you finally grasped the depth of his indifference.

through tears, you faced the truth: you'd clung to false hope for years. despite trying to move on, sunghoon's memory lingered, haunting your every thought — and as you left for college, you looked back at his house one last time, reminiscing about your silly crush on park sunghoon, your neighbor who never really cared about you.

you spent most of your summer with your friends, going out to keep your mind off of sunghoon — and for the most part, it worked. you went on spontaneous trips with friends — even going to australia with your friend, jake — staying there for almost half of your break. you went to festivals and picked up new hobbies: meeting new people and laughing wherever you went. with each new experience, sunghoon’s memory faded, replaced by smiles and bonding, the haunting chills of your childish stupidity melting away as you embraced living in the moment, rediscovering your love.

the months flew by quickly, you ended up spending your last few weeks before college with your family at home, not once did you open your window and look out at his house — totally at peace with his rejection.

it was your first day and admittedly you were nervous — walking on a new campus full of strangers, except for one or two friends. you reminded yourself that everything'd be fine: you looked good adorned in your new clothes and hairstyle — your books were secure in your tote bag and your laptop was charged. you were more than ready, and the day'd be perfect.

you took a deep breath before entering your first class, finding a seat near the door — scrolling through your phone until the professor arrived with the syllabus review. "y/n!" you peered over your shoulder at the door, one of your friends waving at you with a huge smile plastered on her face. "hey, it's good to see you." she sat beside you, the two of you talking about your summers until the class began.

"how long've you been on campus?"

"hm... maybe a while, i moved into my dorm a couple of days ago." you replied as you finished packing. "oh, so have you been to the café down the street? there's this barista... he's so cute!" she nudged your shoulder as the two of you walked out. "i can't say i've been… i’m not busy later, we can go if you want?”

“great! i’ll see you then, okay?” you nodded, waving her off as you walked to your next class until you’d see her later that evening.

the cafe was cozy — warm and welcoming. as you and your friend queued up to order your drinks, you couldn't shake off the sense of anticipation. but what caught you off guard was the barista behind the counter, who looked oddly familiar. he flashed a warm smile, "hey there, what can i get for you?"

holy shit.

your heart skipped a beat as you looked up, stunned to see sunghoon standing behind the counter, wearing an apron in place of their old highschool uniform. you blinked in disbelief, trying to process the unexpected encounter. sunghoon, the same person you’d had spent years pining over, was the same one taking your coffee order. “are you ready to order?” you’d spaced out — lost in thought.

your friend nudged you, breaking you out of your daze. “y/n! what’d you want?” with a slightly shaky voice, you swallow your embarrassment: “uh, sorry.” an awkward laugh abruptly pushed past your lips. “americano… please.” you were trying to act casual despite the flutter of excitement in your chest. “a matcha, please!” your friend orders and he nods. as sunghoon prepares your drink, your eyes met briefly — you can’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline, wondering if he remembers you.

after receiving your drink, you thanked sunghoon with an uneasy smile, feeling a mix of disbelief and curiosity. “thanks.” you begin walking back to your table, but not before hearing that weirdly comforting monotone voice. “yeah, of course.” it seemed the roles were reversed, with you being the one walking away from him instead. It wasn’t until after you left that sunghoon’d realized how much he’d really liked you — he missed walking to school together and catching you glance at him through your perfectly aligned bedroom windows. and when he ran across that sliver of grass, knocking on your door, your mom answered, “she’s gone out of the country, sunghoon, i’m sorry.”

“do you know when she’ll be back?”

“some time before you kids start school, but i can’t be sure.”

sunghoon couldn’t dare let you get away again — not after sitting in his room all summer, coming to terms with the fact that you’d probably never want to see him again.

“hey, uhm y/n?”

it was an unexpected twist to your first day of college, but you didn’t want to deny the spark of intrigue that ignited within you when he called out. you leaned on your heel, turning around swiftly. “yeah… sunghoon, right?” he nodded, and suddenly, your mouth felt dry. "it's been a while!" you awkwardly smiled — this wasn't the ideal situation, but it's still your first day and you have to make it work. "mhm... how've you been?"

it was all so new to you, how he seemed to take interest in your life: when you two were younger, it felt like it was always you — starting a bland conversation, asking how he was, greeting him in hallways with a warm smile: putting in the effort. but this once with sunghoon smiling at you and asking how you were, you felt your heart swooning. " 'good, thanks." you looked down, swirling the liquid of your cup around in the cup. "what about..."

"y/n! hey, are you coming?" your friend's voice pierced through your own. it was hard to believe you were looking at your childhood crush who's now even more handsome than when you last saw him — more skilled and finally giving you the attention you once so desperately craved and part of you still does.

as the weeks passed by, you'd learn college was a lot easier than you thought it'd be. you'd made a small group of friends: supportive and comforting.

the few of you would occasionally get together to study at the cafe, allowing you time closer to sunghoon as you two'd indulge in small talk. you must say, highschool you would've been through the roof — not that you weren't already buzzing with excitement. luckily, none of your classes were overwhelmingly difficult. they'd all passed by pretty simply. however, that didn't mean you weren't overwhelmed yourself.

you sat down in the corner of the small campus cafe with your hands buried inside of your hands. the dim and cozy lighting was perfect for studying and taking notes — but it was also making your eyelids feel heavier, stressing you out. "i hate finals..." you groaned, waiting for your drink. "y/n!"

walking up to the counter, sunghoon'd noticed the look of distress on your face. "here's your drink... 'everything alright?" he offered a sympathetic smile while handing you the drink. "finals..." you mumbled, taking a sip of the coffee before sighing yet again. "it's not that i suck at studying... i'm great at it! i'm just nervous and all of these theories are making my head hurt." you really were the same — sunghoon laughed, "i can help you... only if you need it?" just like when you were younger... your eyes lit up, his offer gave you a rush of dopamine. "really? that'd be great... i... i can pay you, and..."

"y/n, relax. it's fine, it won't be the first time i've tutored you," he snorts. "i guess you're right, seriously thank you."

it was endearing, you two were closer than ever — for the first time it felt like he was actually with you. sunghoon worked his shifts in the bustling campus café, finding himself more and more drawn to your presence amidst the sea of students: you soft laughs and beaming smile whenever you felt confident in an answer — with a warm smile and a willingness to help, he offered his assistance whenever you came in to study.

day by day, your shared laughter and easy camaraderie polluted the air as you two grew closer through shared struggles and small victories. it felt as though you'd known each other for a lifetime — really known eachother, not just as neighbors or two different bodies. as you navigated the stress of finals week side by side, you each found solace in each other's company — meeting in the cafe and library, even occasionally your dorm.

you weren't having the best day — busy and slightly overwhelmed. but it was warm, the gentle spring wind prickling your skin as you entered the library. you felt at ease meeting the comforting scent of books and vanilla. but seeing sunghoon only made your heart race yet again — the dimly lit building perfectly illuminated sunghoon's face, stirring so many emotions within you. "hey..." he broke you out of your trance, waving you over with a supple smile — notes already adorning the small desk as e sorted through them. "sorry, i'm late." you replied, pulling out your computer, opening your notes. suddenly, you felt something next to your hand. "what's that?" you asked, eyes still glued to the page in front of you. "your order."

what was he talking about? you looked away and then at him, confused.

"you didn't come to the cafe, so i figured you got busy — brought it to you since i knew we'd be getting together." the drink sat before you, still cold. "oh... thanks, sunghoon." picking it up, you noticed the small note attached to the cups side. "it's okay if you get busy, i just hope you'll keep coming to see me :)" you took a sip, rereading the note in your head and smiling against the lid of the cup. "good?" he asked, "not bad, park." you nudged him, the two of you giggling before beginning work.

that wouldn't be the last time he'd make your heart pace, but little did you know, he felt the exact same.

you two sat at the desk in his dorm, he thought you looked absolutely gorgeous with your hair pulled back, glasses leaning off the tip of your nose. you were so adorable, working so hard with your lips pursed in concentration. "so, i think that..." you trailed off, turning your head to look at him. "sunghoon? is there something on my face?" your hands darted to your cheeks, frantically searching — which only made him chuckle at you antics. "hey," he grabbed your wrist, stopping your panicked motions, "there's noting on your face." you stared into his eyes, you're so pretty... "no?" sunghoon shook his head, "no. but..." his other free hand came reaching towards you, tucking a piece of hair somewhere behind you. "...thanks." you murmured, slightly under your breath not even noticing how close your faces were... sunghoon doesn't know what happened in that moment but it felt right, pecking a chaste kiss on your lips.

and maybe that's how you ended up underneath him? with your glasses far disregarded and your hair messily thrown, huffing as you two's lips met and molded together in yet another embrace. "fuck... y/n, i really like you." all your previous memories fade away into obscurity, one image remains vividly clear: sunghoon — not the person you once resented in your childhood, but the one you've come to love more than ever. the one who notices small things, makes you laughs, and picks you up when your down. "i like you too..."

you two found yourselves drawn to one another, your tongues intricately tying themselves into a knot. with trembling hands, sunghoon gently cupped your face, pulling you closer into him. his knee meeting your core sending a shiver down your spine as you leaned into his embrace with your arms wrapped around his neck.

your lips met in yet another a fervent kiss, a silent symphony of longing as you lost themselves in each other's kiss — time seemed to stand still as you explored each other with an unwavering hunger, moaning into each other’s mouths and pleading for more. your bodies moved in perfect harmony as they sought to get closer and feel every inch of each other's skin: you threw your shirt over your head and onto the floor. “ ‘so pretty, all the time… ‘wanted to kiss you for so long.” his hands pawing the side of your hips. “shit… ‘should’ve done it sooner, hoonie…” you sighed into the plush of his lips watching as he too removed his shirt.

you were eager, feeling his hardened length caressing your clothed clit. "is this what you want, pretty girl? y/n, please tell me what you want..." you nod, feeling his hands embrace your face yet again for another kiss. "use your words..." he huffed, nipping at your bottom lip, "please, sunghoon... i want this so bad."

his hands were sliding down your sides to reach your waistband, tugging your pants off and trailing kisses down your abdomen. his fingers lingered on the small of your skin — softly tracing imaginary inscriptions, leaving a trail of bruising kisses leading to the waist of your underwear:

pulling them aside he stared in awe at your bare cunt, your puffy clit and semislick folds, staring up at you once more, smirking — leaving another kiss above your cute little clit before licking a stripe up your whole cunt. "shit, you taste so sweet, y/n."

his tongue was hot, prodding at your sticky entrance. "f-fuck..." you huffed out, hands tangled in his hair. sunghoon's so soft and intimate — cherishing this moment as his lips graze and carefully suck your clit with his arms wrap around your thighs, nuzzling further into you heat before slipping two of his fingers inside of you. "such a sweet girl... 'sweet cunt too, 'can't ever let you go again..." you nodded you head, feeling the girth of sunghoon's fingers made you whine. "hoon..." you squirmed under him as he lapped your cunt eagerly, fingers pumping and curling in and out of your sopping cunt. "shit!" he was hungry — he's been waiting for this for what feels like an eternity. "so good, y/n... pussy's so good..." he hummed into your warmth, the vibrations sending chills across your whole body. "fuck, i might cum... sunghoon, please!" he was close too: about to cum practically untouched by rutting into the mattress — getting off on your sweet moans.

his tongue lapped your cunt eagerly — and right when you were about to cum, he suddenly stopped. "why'd... fuck, why'd you do that?" trying to catch your breath you look down at him, chin coated in slick and breathy heavy. he hushed you with yet another soft peck on the lips. "s'okay, 'wanted you to cum on my cock... 'sound good, baby?" he asked in a hushed voice. right now, sunghoon wanted nothing more than to give you the world.

you were so pretty with your fluttering cunt and fucked out face. "y-yeah..." you nodded, anticipating the feeling of his length stretching you out. you watched as he pulled down his sweatpants and breifs, his cock springing out. "s'pretty.." you spoke quietly to yourself, admiring his leaking pinky tip and the veins adorning his cock, slightly curved up and to the left. he tugged at it a couple of times before aligning it with your entrance, easily plunging in and kissing your cervix, bottoming out immediately. "shit! so fucking wet... pussy's so warm, y'know that? s'perfect, fuck!" he groaned, babbling to himself about what felt like nothing.

your tight gummy walls swallowed him so well, leaving him speechless. each thrust, he lost himself deeper and deeper inside of your cunt, hitting your g-spot several times, making you flinch. it turned him on so much, seeing that ring of cream around the base of his cock and watching you squirm and moan under him. "fuck, hoonie, feels so good..!"

"shit... i love when you call me hoonie, y/n! s'tight, ah, shit! say it again: my name, call me hoonie, baby."

"hoonie, please... 'think i'm 'gonna cum!" his thrusts grew sloppier — more desperate as he grew closer to spraying your walls a sticky white. "feel me?" his hand applied pressure to your abdomen, his cock bulging out of your tummy. "oh, fuck..."

"yeah, babygirl... 'hoonie's right... here." his hips relentlessly snapped into yours as he firmly held you down. "mpf! sunghoon, i'm 'gonna cum!"

"go ahead, y/n." another kiss, right on the lips. "cum f'me, yeah?" as you felt the knot in your stomach quickly unraveling, you could feel yourself clenching around the girth of sunghoon's cock. you wished you could stay this way forever, bodies firmly pressed against one another in a warm embrace, lips perfectly bonded as you stared into each other's eyes.

the next time you saw sunghoon, was a week after. you'd run into his arms for a tight hug. "hoonie! i passed, i passed my finals!" he picked you up, peppering your face generously with kisses, "i'm so proud of you," and as you looked up into his eyes, you'd remembered everything — good and bad: rejection and fear and a strange curiosity that led to this: everything you'd always wanted. but most importantly you saw him, park sunghoon: the love of your life.

guidelines and disclaimers | took me way too long to write ! i have no fucking idea where this went but hopefully someone likes it a lot 😭

#lil-ma-shae #fem!reader #fanfiction #enhypen hard hours #enha smut #enha hard hours #enhypen smut #enhypen #enha #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #park sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #enha hyung line #park sunghoon smut #black!reader #poc!reader

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fatehbaz · 9 months

Text

Hmm. Alarming trend in mass incarceration in Central America.

Also: Very disingenuous wordplay here.

Where do we begin?

-- Very disingenuous for multiple outlets to run with "the West”. Though this initial AP article does specify that this refers to the Western Hemisphere, the choice to run headlines with “West” kinda implies that there are no other island prisons in “The West” (as in the European Union, the United States, Australia, etc.).

-- One of the most infamous incarceration schemes on the planet is Australia’s “Pacific Solution,” a “solution” to refugee migration centered on the imprisonment of asylum seekers on island prisons, including the infamous prisons at Nauru and Manus, both opened initially in 2001, and re-fortified after 2012. (Nauru is extremely isolated, in the South Pacific, 3000 kilometers away from the Australian coast; the Manus detention centre is far away off the northeast coast of Papua.) Since 2012, over 3,125 people have been sent to Nauru while over 4,180 people have been sent to Manus. (The “last refugee held on the Pacific island of Nauru under Australia’s offshore detention policy” was “evacuated” to mainland Australia only on 24 June 2023, not even a month prior to this headline.)

-- Obviously the EU incarcerates refugees on Mediterranean islands, notoriously at Moria on Lesbos, whose international reputation as the home of Sappho has been supplanted by its reputation as a de facto prison for asylum seekers. In October 2015, over 10,000 people landed on Lesbos in just one day. In 2017, the island averaged 2,500 arrivals per month. By 2019, humanitarian investigations showed that over 10,000 people were being held in a facility with a maximum capacity of 3,000. In 2020, fires left over 12,000 refugees on the island without shelter. By December 2021, Doctors Without Borders raised alarm that over 2,200 refugees were living in “dire” conditions on the island. As of early 2023, Lesbos (along with Kos, Leros, Chios, and Samos) is hosting over 4,500 people who are stuck in “reception and identification centers.”

-- And in the Western Hemisphere? The US prison at Guantanomo, also on the coast of an island in this same sea.

-- One of the most notorious island prisons was the early twentieth century French penal colony on the periphery of the Caribbean region at Guiana (run by a France, a “Western” power, in the Western Hemisphere), known internationally as “Devil’s Island.”

-- The federal government says the prison will be built “in harmony with nature.”

-- A prison ... in harmony with nature.

-- An island prison in the Caribbean, a region fundamentally and intimately connected to centuries of imprisonment, plantations, Indigenous genocide, antiBlackness, racial castes, and chattel slavery, all achieved and enforced through the bounded, isolated geographic containment structure allowed by islands.

-- And this is extra-worrying, because it seems it’s a regional trend, evidently for Honduras, El Salvador, and Colombia.

-- Merely a few days before this headline about Honduras, international outlets were profiling Honduras’s direct neighbor, El Salvador, with headlines like “Inside El Salvador’s new ‘mega prison’” (Al Jazeera) and, within the past couple months, headlines like “Prisoners are being tortured to death in El Salvador’s prisons” (VICE News).

-- From less than a week before this AP headline, we have BBC: “El Salvador’s secretive mega-jail.”

-- Don’t forget nearby Tapachula’s detention of asylum seekers.

Still discussing implementation of literal island prisons despite our collective familiarity with carceral archipelagoes.

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genderkoolaid · 3 months

Note

The transandrophobia brainrot has hit tiktok hard. There's a sound going around right now that uses the T slur in a reclamatory way, but whenever a transmasc person uses the sound people lose their minds saying it's transmisogynistic for them to use that word. But when cis male drag queens use the audio it's a slay.

My answer to those people is Get Kate Bornstein'd:

^ From this interview

Four weeks ago, Bear posted a call for submissions on his blog. In the interests of keeping the call as open as possible, we agreed to include as many trans-identities as we knew, so we used the word "tranny." And that's where the activist shit hit the postmodern fan base. People have been pissed. Here's their argument: FTMs are co-opting a word that belongs to MTFs. The word "tranny" belongs to MTFs, reason those who were hurt by our use of the word, because it was a denigrating term reclaimed by MTFs—ergo, only MTFs could be known as trannies. I spoke with Bear, and we agree that’s wrong on several counts:

Tranny began as a uniting term amongst ourselves. Of course it’s going to be picked up and used as a denigrating term by mean people in the world. But even if we manage to get them to stop saying tranny like a thrown rock, mean people will come up with another word to wound us with. So, let’s get back to using tranny as a uniting term amongst ourselves. That would make Doris Fish very happy.

It's our first own language word for ourselves that has no medical-legacy.

Even if (like gay) hate-filled people try to make tranny into a bad word, our most positive response is to own the word (a word invented by the queerest of the queer of their day). We have the opportunity to re-create tranny as a positive in the world.

Saying that FTMs can’t call themselves trannies eerily echoes the 1980s lesbians who said I couldn’t use the word woman to identify myself, and the 1990s lesbians who said I couldn’t use the word dyke.

At one phase in the evolution of transpeople-as-tribe, it was the male-to-females who were visible and representative of trans to the rest of the world. They were the trannies. Today? Ironically true to the binary we’re in the process of shattering, the pendulum has swung so that it's now female-to-males who are the archetypal trannies of the day. The generation coming up beyond the next generation, i.e. my tribal grandchildren are the young boys who transition to young girls at the age of five or six. They’re the next trannies. None of us can own the word. We can only be grateful that our tribe is so much larger than we had thought it would be. How to come together—now that’s the job of the next generation of gender outlaws.

^ From Who You Calling A Tranny?

We've been having this debate forever and its been stupid forever.

And its an increasingly outdated debate. More people know about trans men&mascs than ever and there are plenty of TM&Ms who have been called tranny by transphobes who don't give a shit about this distinction. And not just people who have been mistaken for transfems, either, but men like Andrew Jonathan Blake-Newton and Saye Skye who were attacked by people who knew them. Do they have more or less of a right to say tranny than a trans girl whose never been called it by a transphobe? (Neither. Because no one owns this word.)

#m.#ask box

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