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bcbdrums · 4 years

Note

48. Morning kiss

This exact prompt was also requested by @theiconicgwen

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13576836/1/Rekindling

FFn link, but, here it is...... This is my 30th KP fic!!! (And 28th Drakgo I believe!)

I’M SORRY!!!

(no i’m not.)

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Drakken left the lair through the beach door after a long search, and outside was where he found her.

Shego stood at the water's edge, her toes being lapped by the surf as it slowly rolled in and out while the sky at the horizon began turning from indigo to lavender. It was July, but the wind that morning cooled the air and so she stood hugging herself as she stared out over the water.

Drakken's gaze traveled from her bare feet up along her bare, green legs to the short black and white gym shorts she wore. She had a black t-shirt on top. The wind was blowing just hard enough, and it whipped Shego's hair up above her head and out to the side in wild, twisting strands.

Drakken approached her.

It was her turn to jump for once as he set a hand on her shoulder. She glanced at his hand to be sure it was him, but then turned her gaze back to the dark waters.

"How are you?" he asked softly as his arm went around her to lightly rest on her other shoulder.

Shego shrugged slightly. "How am I supposed to be?"

Drakken frowned. "I...don't know."

She glanced at him. "How are you?"

Drakken took a long, slow breath. "I...I'm accepting reality."

Even as he said the words, tears stung his eyes. He looked down at Shego's and saw hers were the same.

"Me too," she whispered.

He stepped behind her and circled her with his arms, taming her wind-blown hair. He placed one hand on her shoulder, but when his other hand rested over her midsection she grabbed it and shoved it away.

"No!" she cried quietly.

Drakken sighed through his nose and pressed his cheek against the side of her head as he nodded his understanding. It was too soon.

The sky began changing from lavender to pink. Shego's frame shook once, and then again within his embrace. He held her tight with both arms as she cried quietly, and he let his own tears fall into her hair.

"Dr. D.? Do you think...heaven, and God are real?"

Drakken looked up at the cloudless sky. It was like a perfect canvas, spotless but for the stunning blend of dark colors into the light at the horizon.

"I don't know, but... I hope so."

"Me too..." Shego answered softly.

The surf rose suddenly and washed over their feet and up to their ankles, wetting the cuffs of Drakken's pants and soaking his shoes and socks. He barely glanced at them.

"If heaven is real...I'm sure she's there," Drakken said, his voice catching.

Another cold wave moved over their feet, depositing sand in Drakken's shoes and in between Shego's toes.

"I...should have known," Shego said through a sniffle, her voice hoarse.

Drakken took another breath. "Remember, the doctor said it could have been a fluke...like so many others. And if it wasn't, it...could have been my DNA as much as it could have been yours."

Shego sniffled and leaned back into him, turning her cheek up to rest against his. "I know..." she acknowledged through a choked sigh.

Gold mixed with the pink at the horizon. Drakken looked out at the waters, still dark where they met the beach but beginning to brighten where the first hints of sunlight reached them, far in the distance.

Drakken was sickened by the sunrise.

Shego had miscarried in her seventeenth week of pregnancy, alone at the lair while Drakken had been out. After finding her curled and sobbing on the bathroom floor, he had consoled her for hours until she fell asleep, and then he had his turn releasing his anguish in feral cries as he paced circles around the lab. The next day, they had cremated the tiny body and scattered the ashes over the sea.

There had been a brief trip to the doctor, however Drakken had spent most of the days since tending to Shego and ignoring his own grief. But the sunrise and its associated ideas of rebirth and renewal brought the pain back in force. The last thing he wanted to think about was hope in a new day.

And yet...part of him desperately needed to.

Shego turned slightly to look at his face.

"Do you want to name her?"

Drakken blinked in surprise, but he held her tighter. "If you want to...yes. Yes," he said with assurance.

"How about 'Amanda'?" she asked.

Drakken cocked his head to the side as he considered. "Why?"

Shego sighed shakily and leaned into him. "Because it means...'worthy of love.'"

Tears slid down Drakken's cheeks. "Amanda."

Shego turned to face him, and they held each other and swayed to nature's own cries of the wind and waves that surrounded them. Drakken wondered if the doctor had been right, that it was simply a fluke that too often happened to women...or if it really was something in their hellish DNA that had done it. Because if it was their DNA...

Shego pulled her tear-stained face away from his shoulder to look up at him. The golden glow from the horizon lit half of her face, and through her sorrow he saw a familiar determination in her eyes.

"I want to try again," she said.

Drakken felt his breaths become thin, and his focus turned to the half of her face in shadow. What if it really was their DNA? What if it was impossible? What if they tried and it just ended in heartbreak again?

It was as if she could read his mind as she brought her hand up to stroke his tear-stained face.

"I love you," she said.

The grief in his heart and the tightness in his chest lessened. He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers before setting his arm around her and pulling her close to him. On the sand below, a wave sparkling with light splashed over their feet.

The bravery in her voice was all he needed. Because if they were never so blessed as to bring a child alive into the world, they would always have each other.

"I love you," he affirmed.

The sun burst over the horizon like flaming gold. They leaned toward one another and their lips met in a kiss, pouring all of their confidence in each other into the deep and adoring touch. And the warmth of the rising sun re-kindled the hope in their hearts.

#writing prompts #gothicthundra #theiconicgwen #fanfiction #kim possible #drakken #shego #drakgo #dragko #drakkenxshego #shegoxdrakken #shego x drakken #drakken x shego #drakken and shego #writing prompt #prompt #writing

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7deadlycinderellas · 4 years

Text

no more math and history, summer time has set us free 3/?

AO3 link

First session revs up.

Arya’s schedule gives her Thursdays and Saturdays off. On Thursdays Ygritte handles the stables by herself, and there are no riding lessons given on Saturdays.

The first Thursday, Arya spends the morning dropping her clothes off at the camp laundry, and then putting them away when they’re done. Since half her clothes are missing their name labels, she finds it easier just to wait around until they’re done rather than risking someone else getting her knickers.

After lunch, Arya decides to take a step into the drama barn and see what Sansa’s up to this summer.

The drama barn is actually a barn, though there are no stalls and no animals. A raised stage takes up most of the space, the lights and prop and costume storage up in the haylofts. When they put on the end of session show, the doors are opened and the audience sits outside under the stars.

Sansa had told her the second night at camp that the first session they were putting on Alice in Wonderland, the second the Wizard of Oz and lastly Peter Pan. Arya always liked watching the shows, and not just because the mass overrepresentation of girls in the drama program always led to some interesting cross-casting.

Right now, Sansa and Margaery are passing around scripts to this group of campers. Most of the campers are young enough they're basically yelling their lines, making the wit sound utterly goofy. The CIT is a blonde girl, who at closer inspection, Arya realizes is Joffrey’s sister Myrcella.

Arya asks about her after the campers start to disperse.

“Bran ran into her a few days ago,” Sansa admits.

“Did she say anything about…” Arya raises an eyebrow, hoping that says enough.

Sansa’s expression turns sour.

“Her and Tommen live with their uncle now. Joffrey’s going to trial in a few months because right after he turned eighteen he got drunk and plowed his car into a sidewalk, killing two people. Their mother went on a series of very public interviews about how it wasn’t his fault, but only revealed to the rest of the world how bad her drinking problem is…”

Arya’s gaze remains steady.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to say I told you so.”

Sansa sniffs and shakes her head.

“You don’t have to, I should have known. I should have seen, even his own brother and sister didn’t like him.”

Arya pulls herself onto a crate of masks and looks Sansa in the eye.

“And at least your taste has improved since then.”

Sansa hadn’t had time to date much in the last few years, but the ones Arya had met seemed decent enough. Right now, Sansa’s gaze is aimed across the barn to where Margaery is checking over the Alice in Wonderland costumes. They’re mostly over-large foam headed animal costumes, suitable for children of many sizes, but there are a few that look more like typical clothing. She holds up the Queen of Hearts costume, a long filmy red thing.

“Is that your costume?”

Sansa nods, smiling, eyes still trailed on Margaery.

“I have to, I’m the only one tall enough to wear it. Sometimes if we’re unlucky it ends up being a boy“

Her eyes stay, and Arya’s follow. Margaery is lovely, golden chestnut curls, a huge red smile, the kind of body that was the envy of other girls.

Including Sansa, it seemed.

Arya’s voice softens.

“Are you still not comfortable with it?”

Sansa ducks her head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Coming out to people outside the family.”

Sansa’s eyes fall closed. Arya had been the first person she had told when she had come to the realization that she was bisexual. It was still one of Arya’s proudest moments, that her sister trusted her that much. The other siblings had been similarly easy, but Sansa had been so frightened to tell their Mum, certain that with her old-fashioned ways, she would disapprove.

She’d never had the chance to find out.

Figuring this was as good a time as any to ask her, Arya wonders aloud.

“How did you first know anyway?”

Sansa gives her a look that’s half withering. Arya laughs, maybe it was a stupid question.

“How did you know you were straight?”

Arya shrugs, kicking her feet, the crate she’s sitting on is large enough that they dangle.

“I don’t know. Contrary to popular opinion, I’ve always liked boys. I’ve never fawned or made a fool of myself around them because I never thought they deserved that much extra thought. I still remember Mum fretting, wondering when I would start doing my hair and going out all the time like I was supposed to.“

Arya’s stomach drops again. She’d never told Sansa why Mum’s opinions on that specific topic was such a sore spot for her.

Sansa smiles.

“I’m not sure even Mum would know what to make of you spending so much time with the lifeguard here.”

Arya feels her neck turn pink. Sansa nods knowingly.

“Even back then I knew. You were always surrounded by little boys, but you treated him different than you treated them.”

“That’s different,” she insists, “I do like Gendry, but he’s my friend first. We’ve been friends for a long time...and a lot has happened since we’ve seen each other last time.”

Sansa nods.

“A lot has happened. I guess that’s one of the good things about camp. Gives you time to relax and reflect, remember what’s actually important.”

Arya had never thought about it like that, but it was the truth. Most children at camp didn’t know anyone else, they came without siblings or family friends, unlike Arya who always had a few people she knew here. They could be whoever they wanted to be for the summer.

Morning activities are over after that, so Arya and Sansa walk to the mess hall for lunch.

Lunch also means mail call, and Sansa squeals when they’ve got a letter from Robb, tearing it open before Arya can read a single word,

“He says work is going fine, though they’re still undoing so much of the mess Robert left us in,” Sansa starts, “He says the dogs are doing well too.”

Arya grins. Several years before, one of their father’s friends had a litter of puppies, one for each of Arya and her siblings, and Jon as well to have one. The enormous fluffy malamute mixes had run free on the Stark’s, frolicking in the snow come each winter. Lady had died early, and Nymeria had run away, but Arya still loved watching them all the others run about.

“He says Ghost misses Jon dearly, and lets us know he hasn’t heard from him either.”

Sansa bites her lip at the next lines.

“He also says he feels a million years old going into work every day...and tells us he wants to hear every single detail so he can pretend he got to come here this summer too.”

Arya frowns at this. It’s not fair that Robb had to grow up so fast just because he was the oldest, and the only one who could be legally responsible for the rest of them. She didn’t think her and Sansa were too much stress on him, but between Bran’s medical appointments and therapy and keeping Rickon in school and from actually running wild, she understands how it could wear him down.

Speaking of Rickon, after lunch is finished, Brienne approaches Arya.

“Can you come with me for a few minutes? It’s nothing serious, I was just hoping for your assistance.”

She leads Arya away, and as soon as they turn up the hill, she realizes they're going towards the infirmary. Gods know she spent enough time there as a camper, covered in bumps and bruises.

“Rickon got into a fight with another boy on the sports field when his cabin and one of the girls cabin’s were playing kickball. Rather than immediately punish the both of them for fighting, I was hoping you could get the story out of your brother before I make my decision.”

Arya sighs deeply. This is a role she often plays at home.

When she enters, she expects far worse than what she sees. Rickon’s hair is a mess and he has a splint on one wrist and a couple of scrapes on one cheek.

“How’s the other one look?” Arya asks, sitting down beside him.

Rickon’s silent. It’s a strange look on him. From faraway an unfamiliar person might even expect an angelic child with his red curls. His siblings knew better, and had resisted for years letting him off easy just because, at thirteen, he was the youngest of them.

“We were just talking about the zombie game at the end of session. I was telling how you all always talked about how they picked one person to be the zombie and try and infect the others. One of them started laughing and saying there wouldn’t even be a contest being that we had a real zombie here already.”

Arya must look confused, so he continues.

“Couple of the guys have been making fun of the other cabin’s CIT since we got here. The girl with the scarred face?”

Arya’s heart sinks.

“So you punched him?”

Rickon nods, his head still downcast. Arya sighs.

“Rickon,” she starts, “I’m not angry at you for defending someone being teased...but you can’t just punch people. Tell a counselor, someone who has actual power to punish that person who’s being mean.”

She ruffles his curls.

“But I will tell Brienne what happened and that both of you need be put on KP for the rest of session, but that she should keep an open ear out for anyone else bullying Shireen.”

Rickon nods, knowing that’s fair. And Arya pats his hair again. A week’s worth of emptying trash and doing dishes is worth it for standing up to a bully.

Saturdays are a different sort of day off. There are fewer cabin activities on weekends. Instead there are campfire breakfasts, beach parties, nature hikes and camp-wide tournaments. Tomorrow, Arya and Ygritte are set to be leading a trail ride through part of Mistwood, so Arya plans to spend her day off relaxing as much as possible.

Which is why she has to be convinced when Gendry tries to convince her to go on a short hike.

“I already had Hot Pie do us up a couple of sack lunches. I found something last year that I wanted to show you!”

And in the end, a hike is hardly the worst way to spend a free day.

Arya loves the forest, the places where the trees and wild things rule. There are cedars and hemlocks and tall, tall redwoods.

They’ve only been on the trail maybe twenty minutes when Arya spots a weirwood.

“I didn’t know these grow this far south!” she exclaims, examining the blood red sap dripping from it’s ancient face. She’s never spoken too much of her affinity for her father’s faith, the faith of her home in the north.

“There’s not a lot of them, but there are some,” Gendry tells her, “One year after you left, the counselor sent us on a scavenger hunt to find as many of them as we could when he took us on a nature hike.”

Further into the woods, the morning fog still lingers, telling Arya they must be closer to the coast than she had thought.

Eventually, they reach the edge of a gorge, before a sheer drop into a stream below. The ground smooths out into rock.

“What am I looking for?”

Gendry shushes her, sitting cross-legged on the ground pointing to a spot across the gorge where the ground slopes down into rock along the edge of the creek. Arya sits beside him, somewhat reluctantly.

They’ve been sitting for maybe half an hour, They’ve both opened Hot Pie’s lunches, peanut butter and jelly with apples, and munch on them quietly.

It’s close to noon when there’s movement below in the rock. The whole of Mistwood is full of caves, though counselors have never let the campers explore as much as they would have liked, citing the potential for there to be wild animals living in the caves.

“Oh!” Arya exclaims when the movement is revealed to be a wolf, huge and dark gray, leaving the cave to drink from the stream, blinking up at the sky with his huge blue eyes.

“I didn’t know wolves lived in the Stormlands, or anywhere in the south, for that matter” she says.

“There have been rumours of wolves in the woods here for generations. There’s a story about a northern girl who came here in the old days to marry a lover, and not only survived, but, thrived despite that old bit of advice that northerners don’t do well south of the Neck,”

Arya smiles and snorts. Advice like that always sounded ridiculously old fashioned to her, not to mention that so much of the Neck had been drained years ago for development, aside from some bits protected by the parks and forest services. Without it, defining the line between north and south was much more difficult.

“They called her the Wolf Queen, and it seems like that’s where they assumed the stories came from, until about five years ago, some wildlife biology guys working out here found this pack.”

They sit and watch the wolf until he returns to his den. Wolves come out to hunt at dusk usually, this is like the middle of the night for her. Arya finishes up her sandwich, licks her fingers and rolls the trash up to tuck in her pocket. She’s spread her hoodie on the ground and is laying on her stomach, gazing across the gorge.

The day is pleasant, not too hot, and with no one else around, Arya finds herself feeling comfortable, maybe a bit too much. Gendry’s sitting with his back against a tree, and she crooks her head over her shoulder looking at him.

Softly, her lips open and her words tumble out.

“Last year, right before I turned sixteen, Mum and Bran were in an accident. A drunk driver went over the median and hit the car head on.”

Her words slow, and she ducks her head back against the rock, so she can’t see Gendry’s face.

“Bran was thrown from the wreckage, he collided against a metal railing on the shoulder. Fractured his spine. Pretty low down, the doctors kept saying he was really lucky, and how much worse it could have been. Great joy that was to a boy who had just found out he would probably never walk again…”

Arya cringes, remembering the conversations with the doctors and physical therapists, how they had described that with therapy, Bran would regain independent control of almost all of his bodily functions and other ADLs. There were all sorts of things in that conversation she hadn’t wanted to ever have to consider about her little brother, but now had to, they all had to now…

“Mum was dead on the scene.”

Arya feels tears prick at her eyes, and she wipes them away. She’s not looking at Gendry, doesn’t have to. She can imagine his face contorting.

“I’m so sorry,” he says.

Arya feels warmth beside her, and turns her head enough to see Gendry stretched on the rock beside her, face up.

“How are- are you- are you all still living at home?”

Arya’s stomach flips when she realizes what he’s talking about.

“Robb had already turned eighteen. He was already interning at Dad’s company, so he was able to petition to become our legal guardian.”

Arya cringes again, thinking of the mess Robb and Mum said that Robert Baratheon left the company in after Dad’s death.

“Jon joined the air force as soon as he turned of age so we would get familial benefits from it.”

Gendry lays on his back, his breathing even, as he thinks on her words.

“I can remember everything from when my mum died,” he admits, “I was eight. I remember walking home from playing football at the park after school and there were people outside the flat, and a policeman told me to gather my things in a bin bag and come with him.”

Arya winces. She remembers Gendry telling her about the bin bags when they were younger, how it was all he had to move his clothes and school things and toys from place to place.

“It wasn’t until even three months later that I even learned what happened. That her neighbor had seen her collapse while watering the yard and called the ambulance. She’d died of a brain aneurysm, no one could have done anything.”

Arya rolls on one side to watch his face. The sun shines off his still fairly pale face.

“Do you-” she starts off, stuttering, “Do you constantly remember the last thing you said to her?”

Gendry nods.

“That morning before school, I complained we were out of my favorite cereal. Then I left for the bus.”

It’s petty, she thinks, a petty and childish set of last words. She still thinks hers were far worse.

“You turned eighteen in May,” she changes the subject, “Is your current foster dad kicking you out?”

Gendry smiles, genuinely.

“No. Mr. Davos was the one who impressed on me how bad the outcomes often are for kids who just age out of foster care instead of being adopted. He hounds me all the time, makes sure I stay in school. No one ever really did that before.”

Arya thinks. She knows a lot of the charitable work Mum had organized with the church and for PR events at the company had involved foster children. She’d never gotten involved, maybe she should have.

“He’s been wonderful to me...these three years were more than I had ever thought I would get as a kid. And I can’t imagine how those three years have been for Shireen…”

His voice trails off, and Arya thinks it’s a good enough time to bring it up.

“Rickon got into a fight the other day, apparently some of the kids have started telling Shireen she has to play the camp zombie.”

Gendry’s jaw sets. It is remarkable, Arya thinks, that his anger is so much quieter than it used to be.

“She told me last night that some of the girls have taken to calling her the Bitch.”

Arya’s shocked.

“Because-”

“Because her burns make her look like the Hound.”

Arya’s stomach twists again.

“I still can’t believe he let that name catch on.”

Her voice is quieter when she continues.

“They are burns then? I wasn’t sure.”

Gendry inhales roughly.

“Yes, they are burns. What happened to her, her story...it’s very different than mine, but it’s worse. I won’t tell you the rest of the story, I-”

His gaze moves from her face to his feet.

“It’s not my story to tell. If she’s with us one of these days, and tells me it’s okay, I can tell you, but not otherwise.”

Arya nods in agreement. The noontime sun has begun to wane, and the afternoon breeze begins to drift in from the sea of Dorne and makes the air more comfortable.

She turns her head over her shoulder again, and smiles.

“Thank you for showing me the wolves...It’s getting a little late though,” she says, “We should be getting back to camp.”

Gendry nods, pulling himself into a sitting position before standing. He offers Arya his hand to pull her to her own feet.

They hold hands the entire hike back to camp. Gendry runs his thumb along the inside of Arya’s wrist, and she hopes he can’t feel how much her heart is thrumming.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #summer camp au #fic

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dailysassfromshego · 5 years

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OTP ask: 13 & 22: Who becomes their child(ren's)'s Godmother/father. Describe that scene. ^_^

13) WHY IN THE HELL YOU MAKE ME SUCH A QUESTION!!! THEY NEVER DIE FOR ME! NEVER! NEXT! XD

22) Hmmmmm, judging by Drakken’s surname sounds Polish-Jewish to me, as for Shego I believe she could be from Catholic, Orthodox or even Buddhist family backgrounds (that mainly depends on what kind of headcanon you got for her racial/national identity, mine is Albanian and I’ve said why in an old discussion post the fandom made for her… therefore I’d go for Orthodox) yet none is actually seem to religious and sees religion more of a tradition than an actual belief so both must be atheist-agnostics. -Now lets say that God Damn Baptism Day happens to their 1st kid in an Orthodox church somewhere in Greece… cause why not?… in a small sea-side church where all the goons, Dr.D know fam and Shego’s fam are invited, also the other main villains and let’s make KP and Ron the Godparents. Mama Lipsky complaining that they should baptize the kid jewish, Drakken promising her for a Bat Mitzvah for her so she would shut up. Motor Ed smocking some Cretian weed in the back of the church (he still can’t deal with the fact Shego got married to his cousin Drew and now that they got a kid is even more unbelievable to him, so this is how he deals with his “depression”… more like of his “masculinity” being crushed…). The goons at their sits waiting patiently for those bonbonier cardies (ye they also use them in baptisms and I always hated them). The other villains some coming in some waiting outside for the ceremony to start and discussing random stuff. Hego and Mego waiting for Shego with their niece to arrive and they are taking quite the time, while the Wegos are exploring the inside of the church sneaking into the priest’s place… 30′ late and Shego arrives with the now 2 year old child, along with Kim and Ron and as they enter the church Hego and Mego close the doors, while Shego, Kim and Ron approach the copper baptismal pool Drakken grinding his teethasks Shego where she had been, only to get give him a death stare and that being enough to scare him like a puppy… The priest’s been waiting there too but that didn’t mind at all, tells to begin with the ceremony. After all the psalms and “vows” the parents and the godparents have to give the pool is being filled with water and some drops of olive oil and the priest takes the baby girl and puts her in there. Amazingly like no other kid of her age instead of turning purple from crying and yelling, she laughs and plays with the water! Mama Lipsky at this point is making “awwwww” sighs and saying how cute she is while Hego records all the scene on camera and the priest each time raises the kid up out of the water says “Is being baptized the servant of the God, Christina!”… Finally the priest takes the kid out of the water cuts some oh her hair in all her 4 sides… Ron holds her while this happens and Kim puts on her neck a golden cross necklace and then they proceed with the dress up of little Christina in her new baptize suit prepared by them… So far all ok, till the priest linger his hand on Drakken’s face to kiss it, but instead he shakes his hand and moves it away with a long stretch on the other way in a total indifferent way… and Shego being the next one to pretend kissing the priest’s hand, but instead only touching the point of her chin and the tip of her forehead on it and moving away after that. The goons and all the others running in line to get the silly and overly decorated bonboniers (that was mama Lipsky’s idea do NOT @ Shego & Drakken or the Godfathers) as the family members and the Godfathers holding their little Godchild dressed in a beautiful cream colored lacy dress and hat, hand over the treats to the guests and welcome their wishes and greets. Finally Drakken gets to have a sit and groans in a huge sigh of relief and pain at the same time as if he had a century standing and turns his face at his wife sitting next to him “…And what on Earth took you so long to appear?” Shego rolling her eyes and making a face of total annoyance and despair “At the very last minute the buffoon had to poo o’ bad…” Drakken giving a total poker face “Remind me again Shego, why did we give up villainy for…?” Shego sees an open door at her right side and grabs Drakken from is arm smirking an evil smile on her face dragging him quickly in that room “Idk Doc, but can you remind me when was the last time we did THIS?!”

#shego #dr. drakken #drakgo #kim possible

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levelofviolonce-blog · 5 years

Text

SWITCH OVER ( undertale au )

Once upon a time, a small human child succeeded in saving the underworld. All the monsters living in the underground world praised the child. But human betrays

It also frequently. The child decided to betray by the temptation of another child.

The timeline was neatly cut like someone was cutting with scissors. The rest was a young human child and another child.

Another child betrayed a young child again. The other child dropped a young child at another time.

The child fell again. But this time it was different.

Because another child "erased" the memory of a human child. The child had a different personality from the other body and fell on the golden flower. - SWITCH OVER -

#undertale au #switch over

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hyukmark · 5 years

Text

Skin Care with Love

Genre: fluff

Words: 1.7k

Pairing: female reader x Kim Taehyung

Warning: none

A/N: this was something I’ve been working on for weeks now and I’m happy that I got to finish it finally!

-KP!

Enjoy reading!

————————————————————————

I usually don’t go through her stuff but I was looking for this one particular paper and it might be somewhere here between her stocks of papers.

She keeps so much stuff and also writes down so much, all the paper didn’t surprise me anymore. Between all of the paper was this one heavy letter which poked my curiosity so I opened it and there were a few pages held together with a golden paper clip. It was definitely the familiar hand writing of Y/n, the thought of her made me smile but the curiosity got the best of me and I started reading it.

• • •

Dear Diary,

I think I actually am kinda old to do this and it’s not even a diary, just some paper but because it would be a text about an event I thought it still counts as a diary entry. I also feel the need to write about this one moment or better said one evening that I cherish and want to keep it written somewhere so nothing will get forgotten about it. Human mind is forgetful after all.

• • •

Her words made me smile. She was such a child sometimes but on the other side she probably thought no one will get to read this. Her words made me even more curious so I continued reading the following lines.

• • •

I wanna tell you about him. Or better said just a little speck of what he and I have together. Describing everything we have would be crazy long so I’ll just tell you about this one particular night.

It was winter and I think it was before his birthday, I’m not sure but I sure now it was cold outside and cozy at home where I was enjoying some tea while looking out the window to see the snow falling.

It was extremely beautiful. It was not windy outside so the snowflakes were big and fell down slowly. The snow covered our whole street and it made the sky look orange instead of black.

I remember noticing that the window steamed up in the corner where I was sitting and where my body heat collided with the cold glas. I always enjoyed drawing little hearts on the steamed up glass and that night wasn’t an exception.

• • •

Remembering her habit of drawing hearts on steamed glass made me smile.

• • •

After my third heart I heard keys at the front door and how the door opened and his heavy steps could be heard so I made my way towards the entrance to greet him.

I waited for him to hang up his coat and get out his shoes. While waiting, the cold from the outside hit my bare legs that were only covered with shorts so I got goosebumps all over them.

After he got out of his shoes his arms went around my waist and my arms around his neck. He pushed his cold ears into the crook of my neck which made me giggle and squirm from the cold. He kept me close while laughing tiredly too.

We both went quiet and hugged each other for a few more minutes. I missed him a lot and I could feel he felt the same way. We were both at home and our heartbeats were in sync.

• • •

Reading those lines made me realize which night Y/n was talking about. It was last winter. The text wasn’t written long ago. The text was about me and her. My heart started beating faster. Was this the only time she wrote about me? Where there other texts? Whatever it was I was going to ask her later. I had to continue reading.

• • •

I asked him if he wanted to drink some tea or eat something but he denied and pulled me towards our bedroom. He changed into some grey sweatpants and a big dark gray shirt and sat in the middle of our bed, legs crisscrossed. I knew what that meant and got some of our favorite skincare products. I put the products next to his legs which he by now straightened so I could sit on his lap. His arms quickly found their place around my waist again, I pecked his lips sweetly and then put my forehead onto his and closed my eyes just like him to feel his presence with me.

After a while I opened my eyes, pulled his hands between us to put some skincare product onto his hands and then onto mine so we could start massaging them onto each other’s faces. He waited for me to look up and after I did both of our hands went up to the others face.

I started with his cheeks. I caressed them gently, my eyes and hands moved down to his chin which was quickly done and then up to his forehead. He was finished by then with my face and started watching me, his hands resting in my upper legs.

Lastly my hands went to his nose and seeing the little birth mark on the tip of his nose made a little smile appear on my lips. My hands started caressing his cheeks again while my eyes moved from one eye to his another slowly.

I saw the rings under his eyes and how his eyes looked extremely tired. He has been working a lot lately and hasn’t been able to sleep much because of his schedule.

But no matter what, when I looked into his eyes I could see admiration, peace, safety, home and most of all love.

He didn’t have to say anything and just look at me and I felt the love surrounding me, him, us. Feeling loved by the one that you love was some kind of great happiness that I didn’t feel or knew before I met him.

Holding his face in my hands, having his eyes on me, feeling all the love in that moment was something I never experienced before and I fell in love with him once more in that moment.

I also knew he saw and felt the same way, his eyes gave it away. We both had an adoring smile on our lips.

He pulled me closer by my hips, tilted his head up to me, our eyes never breaking the eye contact. My hands were on his shoulder, my right hand moved towards his neck and pulled him closer while getting closer myself, both of our eyes closed and finally our lips met in a sweet tender kiss. It was filled with pure innocent love and there was no rush, we took our sweet ass time to enjoy every second of feeling each other’s lips on our own.

After a while we broke apart, rested our heads together and then I slowly opened my eyes and saw that he was already looking at me. I saw the tiredness again and my heart broke a little. I was scared that he was overworking and not taking care of himself properly, of course it was nothing new but it didn’t change the fact that I was scared and worried about his health.

With those thoughts I stood up, put the skincare products back to their places and went back to bed where he was already under the covers trying to stay awake with open arms for me to join him. I quickly made my way into his arms after turning off the lights. Our legs were tangled together with my head on his chest and his arms around me. He rested his chin on my head after giving it a little peck.

“I love you” he said quietly with a small tired voice.

“I know and I love you too” I said knowing he was feeling guilty because he couldn’t say it often. What he unfortunately didn’t know was he didn’t have to tell me for me to know, just one look from him and I knew, I knew he loved me just as much as I loved him.

Then I started drawing circles with my finger on his chest while listening to his steady heartbeat and breath. I felt him pulling me closer which was the indicator of him sleeping. That night I fell asleep with a smile on my lips just like all the nights before that I got to sleep in his comforting arms.

Dear diary or whatever, I really wish everyone gets to have the happiness and love I have with him. I hope everyone gets to feel safe when looking into THAT persons comforting eyes. Dear diary I couldn’t be happier than I am when I’m with him, I couldn’t be happier about being able to call him mine and him calling me his.

With love,

Kim Y/n.

• • •

My heart was beating fast. I didn’t properly know what to think. The only thing I knew or better said felt was love. Love towards her.

“Taehyung what are you doing?” Her voice made me come out of my thoughts and turn around towards her. She looked to my hands which were holding the text and after realizing what it was her eyes got big and she moved inhumanly fast to grab them.

“Please tell me you didn’t read it, please” she looked at me with begging eyes but my face expression gave it away. Her cheeks turned a bright pink and I was guessing that she was embarrassed about her written words.

“I’m sorry. I coincidentally found it and couldn’t stop reading it” I said and tried to pull off puppy eyes. She just sighed and brought her hands (that were still holding the papers) up to cover her face. I smiled at that and pulled her hands down and brought her into a tight hug. She hid her face in my chest and I put my chin on top of her head and we started swinging slightly.

“I couldn’t be happier than I am when I’m with you, I couldn’t be happier about being able to call you mine and you calling me yours either, Kim Y/n” my words made both of us giggle and I felt how her arms got tighter around me.

After a while she looked up to me and just like she described before, I only saw admiration, peace, safety, home and most of all love.

—————————————

[Masterlist]

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palaeophilist · 4 years

Text

I’m here to check in with myself in the way that only words formed into sentences can do for me.

I’ve got a persistent headache, likely from the flippant fall weather we’ve been having in San Diego, and that reminds me that I ought to probably stay more hydrated.I had a pleasant and then slightly offensive interaction with a teller at the bank when I was dropping off the rent check, where she complimented my hair, and then told me she pregnant, and then we started talking about children, and I was giving her my best current advice on having a baby for the first time. It’s quite a bit more measured than when I first had CS and would just blanketedly tell people, “Probably don’t have a kid; that is my advice.” I mean, I was joking, sort of, but there were several months there where I would guiltily google, “Is it bad that I regret my child?” and whether or not I had postpartum depression or I was just freaking exhausted from not sleeping for half a year, it was just hard all around and a big, massive shift in my identity.

Anyway, my advice is more measured now. It is of this nature: try to be present for all of it, the best you can. Some parents get stuck in the “just you wait” cycle when you in any phase of development. If you’re sick of hanging out with your boring potato sack of a baby, they say, “Just you wait until they’re walking! Then it gets REAL hard,” and I think this is a load of baloney. Every phase brings its own challenges, and its own reliefs. I enjoyed the moments when I was able to let CS sit under his mobile for half an hour while I drank coffee, but he was a pretty basic baby at that point. These days, I revel in taking him to the park at sunset, and letting him explore and run and point out the bunnies and eat handfuls of sand and meanwhile, the black birds soar in flocks above us and the setting sun casts golden light through trees and our shadows grow long, and I have felt -- since only June of this year -- that perhaps having a child is making my life better. I used to feel that it was only a sacrifice of my life, that he had somehow subsumed my life and that I didn’t have it any more. These days, though, I sometimes just think, what would I do without you here?

I didn’t hear this from any mother, and so while I feel a little vulnerable to admit that I regretted him early on, I think it’s important to mention because we each have different ways that we come to love our families, our offspring. As I told KP long ago, “There are many ways to be alive,” and the collective we sometimes doesn’t make a lot of space for all of them to be “appropriate.” This is how the story went for me.

This week has been a tiring week, because of the headache, and because CS is going through a new thing where he wakes up very, very early and is just totally ready for socializing. For the past several months, he’s been waking up early and then lounging in bed, and reading, but this week, he’s up up and ready for chatting. So I’m tired, and also, there’s a growing anxiety atmospherically around the state of the nation.

I had this thought about polarization, though, this week when I was driving to school to pick CS up from daycare. We often discuss polarization like it’s a bad thing, like, oh gee, we can’t talk to each other because we’re so polarized, but I was thinking, what was it before? When it wasn’t polarized, then wasn’t it just... ignorant? Before we were polarized, we (white people) were largely comfortable ignoring civil rights issues that didn’t directly impact us. This summer, I read Angela Davis’s autobiography where she discusses the horrific police brutality against Black and Brown bodies that happened during her lifetime. Things in history that have felt “so long” ago, like the 16th Street Baptist Church bombing in 1963 that injured 20 people and took the lives for four young Black girls, Addie Mae Collins, Carol Denise McNair, Carole Rosanond Robertson, and Cynthia Dionne Wesley. This happened in the neighborhood where Angela Davis grew up, and she knew the girls who died; one of them was a close friend of her little sister. It has been easy in the history of this naiton for white people to de-prioritize the issues that do not affect them. I think everyone tends to use their vote to benefit themselves to some extent, but I also think that -- maybe? hopefully? -- the tide is turning so that what people understand the fundamental principles of In Lak’ech, a Mayan-inspired poem that is frequently recited in unison at the start of Ethnic Studies classes:

Tú eres mi otro yo.

You are my other me.

Si te hago daño a ti,

If I do harm to you,

Me hago daño a mi mismo.

I do harm to myself.

Si te amo y respeto,

If I love and respect you,

Me amo y respeto yo.

I love and respect myself.

To me, this is a reminder that the harm of white body supremacy is one that we are all experiencing, regardless of the color of our skin. Those of us who hate, fear, judge, and oppress do harm to others, and we also do harm to ourselves.

I grow tired of the persistent narrative that to recognize these fundamental violations that have be the literal foundation of this nation is somehow un-patriotic. Last month, an executive order was signed by 45 to ban diversity trainings in federal workplaces, claiming that the discussion of systemic racism amounts to “divisive, anti-American propaganda.” As a history major, a history teacher, and as a current doctorate candidate who’s dissertation focuses on Ethnic Studies, a class which centers the experiences, beliefs, and perspectives of Black, Indigenous, and People of Color, I find this rhetoric to be absurd. Studies have long demonstrated Eurocentric bias in all of the education that students receive throughout public school. Many of the teachers who I’ve spoken with during my dissertation research talk about the fact that they never learned anything about their own people during any of their K-12 schooling years. When they got to college, only then did they begin to receive any formal education on their own histories.

To me, that is divisive and anti-American.

So this is where we’re at. We are polarized. And I say, good. Perhaps, finally, we have enough people in this nation who are willing to say, look, hey, we are a nation of immigrants. Every child receiving public education deserves to learn about different perspectives and different histories. Every person -- regardless of their race, sex, class, or gender -- deserves to have their rights protected. The fact that this is now controversial? Only because formerly, the opposite was widely accepted, and this is the “great America” that some people want to go back to. But I don’t. I am hopeful that this is changing now, and I know that we’re not “there” yet, so I am committed to doing what I can as a scholar, as an educator, and as a person to change this in the future.

This has been a challenging year. One of my therapists (I see more than one now!) reminds me, when I complain about how hard things are, that that is the nature of things. It reminds me of a favorite prayer by Rilke, who says that it is not our duty to do what is hard, because there are only hard things, but to love what is hard. We should hold what’s hard close to us, lovingly, like a child, and refuse to let anyone take what’s hard away from us. And it is there, he suggests, that we find God. Where else would they be?

#notes

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demoniclovedbz · 7 years

Text

KP/Frikiza - Real Feelings

Author’s Note:- Ugh, I don’t like this sketch. This is a response to all the recent asks I got demanding that King Piccolo tell Frikiza why he loves her… This sketch is wildly OOC, in my opinion. Like… obviously he does love her, for these reasons, but he would never admit it or tell her, he’s just too proud and too uncomfortable with the concept of love and openness and all that jazz. So… in reality, he wouldn’t say all this stuff to her, he’d just expect her to understand it. But… I guess I wrote this just as a cute little scene to set a few things straight, so enjoy the OOC openness. I did try to keep it as IC as I could but I know it just doesn’t work… so I won’t be offended if this one doesn’t get reblogs lol XD

xxxxx

King Piccolo removed his clothing, and slid into bed alongside his sleeping wife. Frikiza had come to bed a couple of hours ago, earlier than usual. She’d seemed in a mood… King Piccolo knew why. It was that stupid blog, and that moronic, cowardly anon that kept insisting he tell her he loved her. Why? Why was it any of their business? He didn’t owe them anything, and if he wanted to go singing Frikiza’s praises – or not sing them, as he preferred – that was entirely up to him! But, even so… Frikiza had seemed hurt by it. King Piccolo had no idea why. Was she really pathetic and soft enough to listen to a few anonymous asks on a social media site? That was ridiculous! Actually, King Piccolo was somewhat insulted – and disgusted – that she could even let it get to her. But, she was like that, wasn’t she? She needed to be told things; stupid things, that she should already know… it was pathetic.

King Piccolo let out an angry sigh as he looked at her sleeping form. He could feel her anger; even in her sleep her aura was still more hostile than usual. Tch. So it was really bothering her, hm? That was pathetic. Truly. He lay on his side, and stared at her through the darkness. She had her back to him. King Piccolo reached out to touch it, and she flinched away, hissing in her sleep. Wow. She wasn’t letting this go, was she? She could be like that. Nobody seemed to appreciate that sometimes, Frikiza could be just as hostile as him. They only saw the sweet, naive innocent side… but she was much more than that. Sometimes she could be the exact opposite of those things. Nobody ever commented on that, did they? Everybody conveniently forgot that Frikiza was actually an ex genocidal maniac who still had sadistic tendencies from time to time. Just because she was restrained, just because she forced herself not to give in to her dark desires, didn’t mean she never got them. She just considered them to be wrong, unlike King Piccolo. He embraced his sadism and bloodlust while Frikiza suppressed hers… Except when she was in a mood with him, and then she gave as good as she got. Whatever attack King Piccolo could throw at her, when she was in the right mood she could hit him a thousand times harder, and in that moment she enjoyed it. It was sick. … He liked it.

King Piccolo sniggered a little, amused at how much of a hypocrite she was. She was strong. She wasn’t disturbed by violence, and she could be violent herself… and yet, she was genuinely sweet. She was genuinely a nice person, forgiving and sympathetic, loving and kind… despite being perfectly capable of acting like a sadistic psychopath when she was angered in the right way – by him. … Hm. He was only here because of her. He knew that. She knew it as well. She didn’t need to hear it.

Through the darkness King Piccolo moved towards Frikiza and placed his arm around her middle, pulling her against him as he leaned his cheek against hers. “I love you.” He whispered into her ear, convinced that she was too embedded in sleep to hear him. He had to believe that, otherwise there was no way he would ever say any of this embarrassing drivel. He shouldn’t need to say any of this. It was nothing to do with those anons for a start, and Frikiza should know all this; she shouldn’t have to be told… She was pathetic. She was too touchy, and too sensitive… … but still… “You revived me.” King Piccolo closed his eyes, basking in her scent. It still baffled him, even to this day. When there were so many others out there… why…? “You could have been with anyone.” He spoke. “But you chose me. Me, and my freak show children.” He sniggered, vaguely amused at that. She’d definitely got the raw end of the deal there. “… You carried my child.”

He trailed his hand down her body, taking the opportunity to caress her hip. He loved her hips. Her body was by far Frikiza’s greatest asset. King Piccolo had always liked it, and even more so now. Now that it had… sheltered his offspring. King Piccolo never thought he would experience that. He’d never known whether or not he could even have a child with someone else, and he had certainly never considered doing it. But… regardless, it had happened. They hadn’t intended for it to happen, but it had. Frikiza had convinced King Piccolo’s child, and she had carried it willingly, allowing his seed to grow within her. He placed his palm on her stomach, caressing the toned flatness that used to be a home for his egg. He’d hated her body back then. It had looked so ugly and strange, and it had been awkward to make use of. … He appreciated it, though. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, King Piccolo had a small scrap of gratitude for her bearing his child. That someone as ‘good’ or kind as her would even want the Demon King Piccolo’s offspring, that they would raise it and care for it… and care for his other children, who weren’t even hers. It amazed King Piccolo that she would do that. Especially for a monster like him. “You disagree with everything I do, and everything I am… but still, you stay. You still… chose me.” He exhaled, his cheeks dark with humiliation. This was embarrassing. And pointless. She wasn’t even awake. … Not that he would ever dream of saying any of this if she was. At least she couldn’t whine that he was still in the wrong now. It was hardly his fault if she was too busy sleeping to listen to him. She was just lazy. “You loved me, Icicle. When nobody else did. It was naïve of you… and stupid of you.” He smirked. “And I’m sure I make you regret it often enough. … But still, you stay with me. You forgive me, and put up with me… I don’t know why. I don’t know how you can love me, when you don’t even agree with all the things I’ve done. You know I still want to do them. … It’s because you’re insane.” He smirked against her neck, and placed a kiss on her flesh. Kami, he loved this stupid, naïve little girl. He loved how insane she was. He loved her violent side, it was sexy as hell. He loved her good side… because it allowed her to love him back. King Piccolo had come to realise in recent months, reluctantly and with great disappointment in himself, and even with anger at himself… that he needed her to love him. “You’re crazy, Icicle. That’s why you’re with me.” He kissed her neck again, his hand lightly caressing her sift skin. She was beautiful. She was the perfect little size, and so curvy and toned… and beautiful. “You’re good for me. You…”

He paused, and held her against him. He didn’t know how to say this part. She… did something to him. He remembered feeling separated. For years, he was so aware that he was nothing more than the evil side of somebody. That he was something that couldn’t exist on its own, tied to another being like he wasn’t a person in his own right. Maybe because of this, he always had a desire to make himself stand out; to be the king of the universe, to create an army that people would fear, to live forever as a single deity, one that was not simply known as someone’s evil, one that had his own name, and one who was known for his own actions and his own ambitions… Somewhere along the line, those desires had faded. Of course he still wanted to kill Goku. Of course he still wanted to rule the universe, that would be fantastic! Hands down, that would be his ideal life. … But that was exactly what it was. It was his ideal life, not his only one. It was something that he wanted, not needed. He didn’t need it anymore… and she was probably the reason why. She made him feel like he was… something. On his own. Nit just Kami’s evil – in fact, she was to him what he was to Kami. King Piccolo was the evil part of Kami. Frikiza felt like the good part of King Piccolo. He was the core; he was someone, with her… and she made him feel more complete than being king of the world ever had. “You’re all that’s good about me.” He uttered. “Which is useful… because I don’t care about being good, so you can do it for me. You don’t try change me. You get annoyed about who I am, but you accept it. You’re happy with me, the way I am…” He nuzzled against her neck, and squeezed her. “That’s why I love you, Icicle. … But nobody needs to know.” He sniggered, smirking slightly. “Can you stop being a bitch now…?”

He held her for a long moment, his eyes closed and his cheeks still dark. He caressed her flesh, and breathed in her scent… and then she started to stir. “Mm…” Frikiza grunted. “Piccolo…?” “Sorry, did I wake you?” King Piccolo grunted, and spoke before she could answer. “You didn’t hear me talking, did you?” “… No.” Frikiza replied. That was a lie. She’d heard it. He’d woken her up when he whispered into her ear… but he knew that. He knew it would wake her. He was just being proud. “I didn’t hear anything.” She spoke as calmly as she could, trying her best not to smile even though all she wanted to do was smile and scream. “Good.” King Piccolo uttered.

He paused for a moment, and quickly decided to distract himself, and end this humiliating moment. This never should have happened… It was stupid. “Well… seeing as we’re both awake.” He trailed his hand down, to squeeze Frikiza’s butt. “Nn.” Frikiza groaned sleepily. “Pickle, no… I’m tired.” “Fine, just go into your golden form and I’ll be done in two minutes.” King Piccolo answered, his other hand making its way to her underwear. “You couldn’t handle my golden form.” Frikiza teased. “What!” King Piccolo barked, insulted. “Yes I can!” “Only if I hold back.” Frikiza giggled. “Listen!” King Piccolo grabbed Frikiza and pushed her onto her back, pinning her down. “I’m not asking.” He snarled fiercely. “I’m telling you to do this.”

Frikiza looked at him, slightly taken aback by his aggression. King Piccolo was always aggressive, but this was more than usual… his aura was totally different; he seemed genuinely angry. Maybe he was still embarrassed about saying all that stuff… it wasn’t like him. Frikiza’s face softened, and she smiled. “Okay.” She giggled again. “Fine. Whatever you say, Pickle.” “Don’t call me that.” King Piccolo hissed. “I hate that name.” His anger was real, but soon subsided when he felt the rise in Frikiza’s ki.

#king piccolo #Piccolo Daimao #frikiza #reblog #myfics #feels #cute

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kpopthings · 6 years

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Lazy Sunday

Type: Fluff (this was supposed to be angst i-)

Requests:

"may i request a fluff with sungyoon?"

"choi sungyoon x reader please “My very feeling is controlled by the look on your face. I can’t breathe without you. I can’t sleep without you.” “That’s not healthy at all." (not sure if i sent it already cause my wifi network is cracking up lmao) btw i Love YOUR WORK ❤️"

Prompt Used:

"My very feeling is controlled by the look on your face. I can’t breathe without you. I can’t sleep without you."

"That’s not healthy at all."

Pairing: Choi Sungyoon (Y) x Reader

Words: 490

[ ANGST VERSION COMING SOON ]

It was a Sunday. You were off of work and miraculously, Sungyoon was too. After promoting with Golden Child, they finally got the time to take a break. It would only last for two weeks, yet you were willing to make it worth it.

It was about noon, you were reading a book by the living room when a sleepy sungyoon walked in. His hair was sticking out to different angles, eyes a bit droopy and his posture a bit hunched.

"What time is it?" He asked, his voice huskier than usual.

"It's already noon," you said simply. Making his eyes go wide before they returned to its previous state. He slumped down the seat beside you before snuggling closer to your side. Arms wrapping on either side of you in a tight embrace and his chin resting just above your shoulders.

You then placed your book down as you turned to him, cuddling him back. You could hear a sigh of relief escape from his lips, making you look up at him with a smile.

"Why didn't you wake me?" He questioned, his fingers tangled in your now unruly mop of hair. You then began to intertwine your fingers together, your head coming closer to his chest as you answered.

"Well you've just been very busy with the boys. You must be really tired with practice and what not. I just thought that a few more sleep would do you some good." You answered, your hands playing with his fingers.

His eyes drifted to you as a smile graced his features. He pulled you closer to him, detaching his hand from yours and his other from your head. The hand that was once trapped in your hair was now resting on your waist while the other held yours. He planted a small kiss on the top of your head.

"I always wondered how I got so lucky," he thought out loud. "I have a nice career, made great friends, and finally, I have an amazing, understanding girlfriend who loves and cares for me as much as I am to her." His words made your heart flutter.

"You're so cheesy," you giggled, "but I love you nonetheless."

Sungyoon's smile grew wider, "and that's all that matters."

"GAH, stOP!" You whined, covering your blush with your hands. Sungyoon only chuckled at you.

"My very feeling is controlled by the look on your face. I can't breath without you. I can't sleep without you." He said, looking deeply into your eyes.

"That's not healthy at all," you countered, making him frown at you.

"You just ruined the moment, you know?" He pouted, making your heart melt at how cute he looked. "But I love you, nonetheless."

You whined once again, "why are you so cheesy?"

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, his head rested on the top of your as his arms readjusted themselves around you.

"Only for you, love."

#choi sungyoon imagine #choi sungyoon #choi sungyoon x reader #y golden child #y x reader #golden child imagines #golden child #golden child scenarios #gol cha!#kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop #gncd #kp: camille writes #kp: golden child

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montieltjlindseyba37insuran-blog · 5 years

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medical insurance in oregon

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rebeljunkmarket · 5 years

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Rebel Junk Welcomes Alice Wallace!

We are super EXCITED to have ALICE WALLACE join us for our Rebel Junk Vintage Market in Santa Rosa, California! Alice will be preforming for all our Early Bird Buyers Friday night at the Sonoma County Fairgrounds.

“It’s a song about taking the risk to do what you love,” Alice Wallace says of the soaring track, “The Blue,” which yields a lyric entitling her spellbinding new album. With Into the Blue, the California-country singer-songwriter conjures the atmospheric sound of the Golden State’s canyons and deserts, mountains and crashing waves, its crowning beauty and its tragic losses. At the same time, the supple-voiced Wallace tells her own and others’ stories, weaving tales that resonate as we grapple with so many disturbing national issues.

Into the Blue is Wallace’s fourth album but marks her debut on the brand-new Rebelle Road label, an imprint founded by a trio of women dedicated to strengthening the California Country music community and expanding visibility for female artists in the Americana/roots genre. “They care so deeply about giving women a stronger voice in the music industry,” Wallace attests. Having spent the past six years writing songs and touring the nation – from AMERICANAFEST® to county fairs, barrooms to coffeehouses – Alice Wallace is ready to break out. “It takes bravery to ‘sail away into the blue’ and grab it,” she says. “It took me until about six years ago to finally take the plunge, quit my job and go for it. I haven’t looked back since.”

It was after Wallace’s return to her birth state of California that she fully embraced her calling as a singer-songwriter. Her musical family had relocated to rural St. Cloud, Florida, when she was a child. She grew up around the sounds of her parents playing guitars and singing, with “Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris, their favorite,” she recalls. She also absorbed the country rock of ‘70s-era Linda Ronstadt on the turntable. “I really taught myself to sing by mimicking their styles,” she says. “The powerful belt that Linda has. The emotive lilt to Emmylou’s voice. Trying to navigate those different elements helped me find my own voice nestled in between all that.” She first picked up guitar at age 10, with her dad teaching her to finger-pick at 15, and by senior year in high school, Wallace was performing original compositions at the local Borders bookstore. It was in college that she discovered yet another calling: yodeling, that haunting vocal style that blends blues, country, and western. Wallace’s own “A Little Yodel” added her to the ranks of legends Patsy Montana and Carolina Cotton.

In 2008, when the Wallace family relocated back to Southern California, she joined them. There, she began focusing on writing, performing, and touring, both solo and with a band. Since 2013, she performs some 200 dates a year. One of those with whom she’s shared stages is singer-songwriter Ray Wylie Hubbard, who says she and her “stunning” songcraft have that “Steve McQueen ‘Cincinnati Kid’ cool.” Pundits agree: she won the 2017 Female Vocalist of the Year at the California Country Awards and the previous year’s Best Country/Americana Artist at the L.A. Music Critic Awards. She was recently singled out by the Los Angeles Daily News and Pollstar for her “dead-on lovely version” of Ronstadt’s “throbbing” “Long Long Time” at the “Palomino Rides Again” event celebrating the legendary California honky-tonk.

Into the Blue represents Wallace’s evolution as a recording artist, showcasing her growth as a songwriter as she embraces a fuller sound, backed by some of Americana’s most distinctive players. Co-produced by Steve Berns and Rebelle Road’s studio veteran, songwriter and musician KP Hawthorn (who’ve made a name for themselves working with artists in the West coast Americana scene), the album is brimming with soul. The formidable rhythm section, including drummer Jay Bellerose (Bonnie Raitt, Elton John, Aimee Mann) and bassist Jennifer Condos (Jackson Browne, Graham Nash), underpins instrumentation ranging from Tom Bremer’s crunchy electric guitar to Kaitlin Wolfberg’s lush string arrangements to keys and pedal steel from Jeremy Long (Sam Outlaw).

Wallace uses an intoxicating array of vocal styles to bring her songs to life: a dusky alto on “The Lonely Talking” (co-written with KP Hawthorn); gospel-tinged belting on “When She Cries” (inspired by the end of a six-year drought in California), and a soaring soprano on “Santa Ana Winds.” The latter, a country-rock chronicle of California’s devastating wildfires, is a co-write with Dallas artist Andrew Delaney, a frequent collaborator whom she calls “the most brilliant lyricist I’ve ever met.” Wallace inhabits his stirring “Elephants,” giving voice to women who refuse to be “quiet as a mouse in a room full of elephants.” The Wallace-Delaney-penned “Echo Canyon” is, she says, “a southwestern cowboy ballad that’s a modern take on a yodel song.” Wallace’s heart-wrenching “Desert Rose” tells of a young mother’s struggle to give her baby a better life across the border.

Lyrically, the heart of the album is the luminous anthem, “The Blue,” says Wallace. It describes her own journey to “get over my fears and go for the thing I love the most.” She knew that being a traveling troubadour and committing herself fully to music could be a dangerous choice. “In some ways, I wish I had done it sooner,” she says. “But I’m also glad I have the life experience to help fuel my songwriting and survive life on the road.” The highly charged emotional feel of “The Blue” derives in part from its exquisite layered harmonies – Wallace’s vocals joined by those of her father, mother, and brother. Known as “blood harmony,” when kinfolk sing together, it conveys a rapturous kind of purity and strength. That buoyancy radiates throughout Alice Wallace’s Into the Blue, lifting her listeners up, transporting them into the world of a seasoned troubadour looking back from a dream realized and dues paid without regret.

ALICEWALLACEMUSIC.COM

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uditlall-blog · 6 years

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Heads of School

Ms. Gagandeep KaurHead - Pre-Primary School

Ms. Gagandeep Kaur, has been associated with KPS for 5 years and heads the Pre Primary School. A passionate and enthusiastic leader, she believes in individually focusing on all the students of the Pre Primary School for their super necessary growth on a holistic scale in their early years.

Ms. Gagandeep holds a Diploma in Montessori from Modern Montessori International, London, UK, along with a B.Ed from MDU, Masters in Commerce from Manav Bharti University and Bachelor's in Commerce from Delhi University. With over 13 years of professional experience in early childhood education, Ms. Gagandeep ensures that the children in her wing develop confident character and have a well-rounded development. As the Branch Head at the Mother's Pride School for over 7 years she helped set in effective processes and practices.

As Head of the Junior Wing at KPS for over 5 years she worked tirelessly in improving the performance of the wing. She now moves into her new role as Head of Pre Primary School, with a vision to take it to greater heights. Under her guidance the pre-primary school has successfully incorporated life skills into the curriculum and has grown significantly in last 5 years.

She has worked tirelessly to build up the school and home connect through various parental engagements and activities.

Ms. Namrita RatheeHead - Primary School

A passionate and progressive educator with over 22 years of experience, Ms Namrita Rathee leads the Primary School at Khaitan Public School, Sahibabad.

As a member of the Senior Leadership Team, Ms. Rathee contributes towards policy changes. Being the Lead Coach for the I-LEAD program at Khaitan Public School, she has contributed in bringing about significant changes in the SEL environment. She sees a leader in each member of the KPS community and believes that simplicity in thoughts and action and the space to dream are the necessary ingredients to nurture flourishing minds.

Ms. Namrita Rathee has been associated with Khaitan Public School for more than 3.5 years. In her previous role as Head New Initiatives, she has transformed the K-2 grades by leading Teacher Development and Curriculum Improvement. Ms Namrita led the Junior Wing at KPS to win the Early Childhood Award for Developmentally Appropriate Curriculum and its planning in 2016. Under her leadership and able guidance, KPS is the leading proponent of International Primary Curriculum at KPS.

She holds a prestigious Montessori degree from AMI, Netherlands, an NTT and BEd degree from India and an Early Childhood Educator Diploma from British Columbia. She is a qualified TESOL Master Trainer, an Instructional Leader, a CIE educator and a Design Thinking Practitioner.

Ms Namrita brings with her a plethora of experiences ranging from voluntary work in rural schools, setting up play schools for young children, designing curriculum inspired by Montessori, Reggio, and progressive educators, working at prestigious institutes like Abacus in Chennai, DPS-Greater Noida, Mayoor School and being a founder teacher at Step by Step School. She has worked closely with children of special needs and wholeheartedly supports inclusion.

Her experiences and exposures as a IPC trainer for international schools in Asian countries-China, Cambodia, Nepal, Singapore and Indonesia- helps us enrich our teaching and learning in the Primary School.

A firm believer in the thought that the young are our future; she views teachers as managers of change, and aspires to spread effective teaching strategies that both empower teachers and respect children, irrespective of the economic boundaries. Her experiences have helped her look deeply and analyse the challenges that face the education sector. Through quality audits she supports schools design practical support structures for the school community consisting of students, teachers and parents.

Ms. Aparajita Roy DasHead - Middle School

With more than 20 years of professional experience as a leader in the field of education and as a teacher, Ms. Aparajita Roy Das is a born leader with a creative mind. She firmly believes in preparing the students of the early teenage for the challenges of the modern world. While she believes in using technology to meet all our needs, she also cautions students over its misuse. She believes in keeping one shoe of a student in the Indian culture, while other in introducing the modern world to them.

Ms. Roy holds a Masters Degree in Geography and Applied Geography from North Bengal University. She also holds a bachelor's degree in Geography and an MBA in Personnel Management from ICFAI.

Ms. Roy has worked as the Vice Principal at Dewan Public School International, Meerut and as the Headmistress at Sapphire International School, Ranchi, where she successfully founded and headed the Pre-Primary Wing of the school. She has also worked as an HOD of the Social Science Department at Sapphire International School, Ranchi and at Riverdale High School, Bangalore. She has taught as a PGT at several schools, all over India.

Ms. Roy has also attended several Model United Nations all over India and in the USA, leading team of students for participation. She has 3 publications of social science magazines to her name, along with editing the Geography school textbooks of classes VI to VIII for Longman Publishing House.

Mr. Anand KumarHead - Senior School

Recognized for bringing academic repute in Modern Delhi Public School, Faridabad as an Academic Coordinator, and at Tagore Public School, Faridabad as the Head of Academics, Mr. Anand Kumar has been at the forefront of reforming the senior school at KPS for more than 1.5 years. Under his able mentorship, Senior School at KPS has flourished with hard working students ready to conquer the world after the school. He has successfully managed to give a boost to the academics by using a steady hand in encouraging students to pursue their passion and live their dreams by working hard and smart in their favorite subjects. He believes in exploring the full potential of a child by providing extra resources to those who need them.

Mr. Kumar holds a post graduation in Archaeology from Indraprastha University, New Delhi and has also qualified for UGC-NET in 2004, appearing for the interview of UPSC-CS in March 2005

Mr. Kumar has over 13 years of professional experience. He has also worked as a Guest Faculty at M. D. University, Rohtak.

Mr. Kumar firmly believes that senior school is the most important part of the life of a child, when he can either turn the table by coming on the top or miss on the golden opportunities of life by ignoring the studies. He dreams of uplifting all students in their favorite field of study and igniting the fire of passion in their mind and soul to pursue it endlessly.

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