#maybe I should turn to Facebook and see if I can find him because I have set an age limit for myself and I really don’t want to entertain

[sluttyten]

My afraid-of-romance ass has just been asked by another regular customer for my number and the stupid thing is that again I do think this guy is kinda cute and I really probably should say yes

#the fear tho lmao #what am I afraid of? I have no fucking clue #this is why I’m still questioning my sexuality lol like what am I? do I even actually like guys? do I like anyone? #in an existential spiral at the moment #but honestly why do they always ask for my number #like dude just give me yours and let me make the decision when you’re not right here in front of me #but I felt bad telling him no today just because the last time a customer asked and I said yes I almost immediately regretted it #and then that didn’t work out because I thought he was too young #young* and now he still sometimes comes by and I just feel awkward about it #maybe I should turn to Facebook and see if I can find him because I have set an age limit for myself and I really don’t want to entertain #anyone younger than that #but I’m……… I know I’m like never active in here anymore #but I just needed to talk about this somewhere #because any of my coworkers would probably tell me I’m being ridiculous or they’d just seriously keep questioning why I keep saying no to #customers that hit on me and my best friend would probably also not get it #idk y’all I just needed to rant about it/talk about it #anyway I’m definitely gonna stress over this until tomorrow #and I’m gonna feel really bad if he stops coming by

[starryeyedjanai]

Steve and Eddie meet through their local buy-nothing-sell-nothing group when Steve’s getting ready to move in with Robin and he realizes he can't keep everything he owns while trying to merge households with her.

The first time they meet, Steve hadn't even been meaning to actually meet the person picking up the free toaster oven he’s giving away.

He’s setting his toaster oven outside his house on the porch when Eddie hops out of his van to pick it up and it would be rude to duck back inside without saying anything since he obviously sees him coming up, so they make small talk for a minute and Steve has to keep his eyeballs in check because they keep wanting to rake all the way down this guy’s body.

He’s covered in tattoos and so extremely Steve's type, but he knows better than to hit on someone who lives in his neighborhood and is not here for that reason.

He laments to Robin about it the next day, about the hot guy who’s probably using Steve's toaster oven as they speak, who he’ll probably never see again.

Robin rolls her eyes fondly at him and tells him that maybe if he puts more stuff up for grabs on the facebook group, he might see him again, but Steve suspects she just wants him to get rid of more of his stuff so it doesn't overcrowd their new apartment.

The set of items he puts up in the group next is an old blender and a butcher block that has three of the knives missing—seriously where did those knives go? He has yet to find them.

He tries to pretend he isn't secretly hoping Eddie will comment under his post that he wants the items, but he isn't fooling himself when his heart literally skips a beat when the first comment is from Eddie. He messages him and tells him to stop by later that day.

When Eddie shows up, they talk for longer than last time, Eddie asking why Steve needs to get rid of so much stuff and Steve asking why Eddie needs all this stuff—especially considering Steve snooped through the group and saw that Eddie joined over a year ago and hadn't once commented before now (he doesn't mention that thought, but he is thinking it real hard).

Eddie laughs and says he was in the market for a toaster oven when Steve posted one and wouldn't you know it? He also needs a blender—the knife set is just a bonus, he says.

Steve tries not to read too much into it, but his brain is spinning the interaction around in his head for the next week.

He puts up a space heater in the group and within minutes, Eddie has claimed it.

“I should just get your number and text you directly when I find something I want to get rid of next time,” Steve says flippantly when Eddie comes by to grab it that night. “Instead of clogging up the facebook group.”

Eddie smirks at him and steps a little closer. He says, “Maybe you should.”

His neighbor’s car alarm decides to go off right at that moment, ruining the flirty atmosphere with its incessant shrill. They can barely hear each other over the drone of it, so Eddie leaves without giving Steve his number and Steve is left feeling like he keeps having these missed connection moments with Eddie.

In a fit of desperation to see Eddie again, Steve puts up a bunch of random stuff in the group the next day—a shoe rack that’s missing a piece, a step stool, a cheap side table he got from Ikea—and Eddie is still the first person to comment like he’s been refreshing the page, just waiting for Steve to post.

“I left without giving you my number last time and I didn't want to be creepy and message you unprompted,” Eddie says as they load the side table into his van. “I think I was overthinking things and then got kind of spooked.”

“It doesn't look like anything could spook you,” Steve says.

When they get the side table inside the back of the van, Eddie turns to him and admits, “A very pretty boy could.”

Steve can feel his face getting hot. “You think I’m pretty?” he asks.

Eddie nods. “Why do you think I keep coming here? There's no way a person who’s lived here for as long as I have would need all this stuff.”

“Did you need any of it?” Steve asks in a teasing voice. “Or were you just so blown away by how cute my profile picture is that you just had to meet me?”

“Oh, I needed the toaster oven, but everything after that was just to see you again,” Eddie says before biting his lip.

There’s an entire swarm of butterflies in his stomach when Eddie's hand brushes his, when Steve takes Eddie's hand in his and leads him inside his box-filled house.

Later, when they’re making out on Steve's couch—when Steve really should still be packing since he has to move in less than a week—he pulls back to ask, “Wait, so are you gonna put the rest of the stuff you don't need back up for grabs in the group? I feel like that would start so much neighborhood gossip.”

Eddie grins wide and Steve wants to kiss him again, wants to feel his smile against his mouth.

“Oh, we’ll be the talk of the town, baby,” Eddie says, pulling him back in.

#steddie #stranger things #janai.doc

[pleasoflove]

love grows best in little houses — lee jeno

roommate jeno x f reader

fluff, friends to lovers, pining, close proximity … >:)

7k words

summary: love grows best in little houses with fewer walls to separate, where you eat and sleep so close together you can't help but communicate. if we had more room between us, think of all we'd miss... love grows best in houses just like this.

authors note: this silly modern all white farmhouse quote had me thinking!!!

“I’m home,” You announce quite obnoxiously, jingling your keys and shopping bags. You made sure to shake the doorknob a little before stepping in as well, doing the courtesy of warning your roommate in case he had company over. 

Instead, you find him relaxed on the couch, a knowing smile resting on his face. He gets up to help you with the grocery bags, “I could tell.” 

You give Jeno an eyeroll, hanging your keys on the little rack by the door. “I’m doing you a favor, okay? Last thing I need is to walk in on you going at it with some chick from your lab class.” 

He laughs a quick laugh, and you get lucky enough to see his eyes form into crescents before his features relax. “Don’t worry. I think I’d warn you before starting something in here.” 

“Better safe than sorry.” 

Sometimes you find yourself squinting and having quick, fleeting thoughts like maybe I should get my eyes checked, but you’re not oblivious to Lee Jeno’s looks, whose entire being seems to have been crafted by all the angels residing in the heavens themselves. All five feet and ten inches of his existence, from the little stray hair that sticks up from the rest to the bottoms of his feet; Jeno is a sight for sore eyes. 

He’s inescapable, too. Quite literally, since you live with him in something that would be flattered to be even called a shoebox of a home. 

The front door is simply the entrance to the kitchen— there is no dining room. The wall to your left side when you walk in is essentially the side of the staircase to your little loft, where your measly mattress sits on the floor. 

Beneath your loft is Jeno’s “bedroom”, where his mattress is placed directly on the floor as well. He’s got a curtain hung up to separate the joke of his room from the living room, which barely fits the couch that the two of you snagged off someone from Facebook Marketplace. 

So, yeah, your living situation is tough, except it only gets harder when the two of you share the most crucial and, possibly, most private space that anyone could ever have. 

The bathroom. 

Oh, it was tough on your heart. It still is, sometimes, though you’ve gotten better at pretending that you can’t see Jeno’s entire naked upper body when he steps out of the shower and you dash inside to finally relieve your bladder. 

It’s not ideal, you know, but it’s the best that your money (combined) can get. Before the start of your junior year, you had been in such a slump over a breakup with your ex that you slacked off hard when it came to apartment hunting. Prices had gone up tenfold by the time you started searching, and with every single day that passed, they only rose and rose, practically laughing in your face for your earlier incompetence. 

It wasn’t until you mentioned to your friend (coworker), Mark, that it had been absolute hell trying to find a place to stay. And bless his heart, that precious boy Mark Lee, as he lifted his hand to run it through his hair, only to accidentally knock off his uniform hat off his head as he exclaimed, I got you! 

That’s how you met Jeno. A friend of a coworker-turned-friend who had been sheepishly looking for a roomie to occupy that devilishly tiny space because even though it was smaller than a suburban backyard, the rent was still so high. 

Before you moved in, your automatic gameplan with any roommate was to interact as little as possible. Stay out of the kitchen if they’re in it. Watch movies in your room if the living room is occupied. Avoid being in the same space at all. Less contact with someone you barely knew meant less conflict, less tension, less worry. You just come in and out, talk about whose turn it is to buy the paper towels and stack the dishes, then move on with your life. 

Absolutely impossible with Jeno. Firstly, he’s a kind-hearted boy. Well, not a boy— he is a man. A boy-ish one with that smile he’s got, and the tenderness behind his words yet the playful venom he spits at you whenever he gets the chance. It’s hard to stay away when his personality is so well-balanced and welcoming that you can’t help but to interact. 

That, and it’s hard to avoid someone when you’re in the kitchen cleaning up and they have to walk right past you in order to leave. The first few weeks were awfully awkward; a constant cycle of oh, sorry, as the two of you tried to get past each other but couldn’t because of how close everything was together. Jeno gave up the act quickly and began to laugh softly at these little conflicts. It made you feel better, made you feel like you too could laugh at the silly reality of your situation. The apartment felt warmer. You’re unsure if it’s because it was tiny, and the heat was trapped, or because getting comfortable felt nice and it slowly transformed your place into your home. 

“Ah. Fruity Pebbles? Someone’s tending to their inner child.”

You huff, your back pressing against his as the two of you sort the new groceries into the little storage space that you have. “They were on sale. And what about it? I’m sure baby Lee enjoyed a bowl or two. Don’t mask your inner child’s excitement with learned patronization.” 

“Someone’s been reading lately,” He shoots back, and you can hear his stupid smile through his voice. “Big words for someone like you.” 

“You know what? You can forget about the pebbles. Get your own cardboard cereal.” 

“I don’t think it’ll fit in the pantry.” 

“Laundry day?”

Yes, laundry day. The most taxing and annoying chore of all. Laundry day, where you have to haul your drawstring bag of clothes down the stairs, out of the apartment and into the hallway, all the way down to the elevator. It’s a mission, it’s quite serious. 

Jeno stares up at you from the foot of the stairs, eyeing you with humor as he sees you lug around that giant sack of clothing. Oh, how helpful he is, only making you more self-aware as he stands with his fitted undershirt and notorious gray sweats. How lovely of him. 

You try coping with the close proximity by turning your attraction to him into annoyance, only your brain does this wicked thing where it gets so annoyed you cannot help but notice all the other handsome, kind, inviting things about him to get annoyed about.

You do not, by any means, have feelings for Jeno. He’s more like that hot friend that you are so sure is out of your league that you simply give up. Yes, he’s hot. Yes, you know nothing will come out of it. Yes, you are one hundred percent okay with that. It’s just difficult when he’s got a pair of eyes and you aren’t looking your best. Human nature to feel a little self conscious, you guess. 

“Let me come with,” He offers as you finally reach the bottom of the steps, mindlessly taking the lump of clothes and bringing it into his arms like it were the weight of a newborn baby. 

“Eh?”

“I will help you,” He starts again, this time speaking slowly to mock you. He’s trying to stifle a shit-eating grin from coming up on his face. He’s so unbearable that you lightly smack at his arm. 

You don’t understand why he would offer to tag along; the laundromat is one of the worst places to spend your free time at. The one you go to has a corner store right next to it, which is nice, but it feels boring again after you collect your snacks and choose a chair to sit in while you watch your clothes spin around and around. It’s even worse when the wall-mounted TVs play nothing but a loop of all the songs that reached top 10 on Billboard in 2013. 

But Jeno doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind a lot of things, you think, as you reach the building and hop out of his car. He’s got so much patience in his heart that you’re not sure what could ever bore him to death. 

The two of you pick your washers and start dumping your clothes in. It’s pretty quiet, save for the low rumbling of the other machines and Katy Perry’s Roar playing softly from the TVs. The bell on the entrance door jingles as an older lady walks in with a little boy who's got a candy bar in hand. 

When you finish loading the washer, you turn to Jeno swiftly. “Want anything from next door?”

He tilts his head, thinking. “Any sour candy.” 

While you head out on your mission to bag the snacks, Jeno picks a table by the window to sit at. He zones out, mindlessly watching the music video play out on the tv, but the sound is muffled in his ears. He's not sure if it's from his lack of focus or the overpowering sound of the machines running. 

He’s pulled out of it when the little boy speeds by. With the whole laundromat to himself, he weaves in and out of the rows like it's a maze, yet dutifully obeys his grandmother’s commands to pass him the little detergent tablets on the drying table. After he passes them to her, he starts running again. 

He’s about to pass Jeno again before he trips over his own shoelaces and tumbles down to the floor. Jeno automatically perks up, worry flashing in his eyes as he looks at the boy and then to his grandmother. Her eyes are busy on the laundry, sorting out the colors and the whites, and while Jeno is internally panicking about the wellbeing of the child, the little boy simply laughs it off and gets back up on his feet. He’s a little bashful due to having an audience, but after Jeno wordlessly sees that he’s okay, they both relax. 

The candy that he was holding had slid across the floor, so Jeno takes it upon himself to pick it up and give it back. He silently inspects it of any damage, earning a laugh from the little one as he hands it to him. 

The boy carefully unwraps it then breaks off a piece to give to Jeno. 

“Oh,” He starts immediately, taken aback. “No no, you have it.” 

The boy hums a short mm-mm while shaking his head, insisting that Jeno take it. 

With a weary smile, his big hand meets the small one in front of him and he gently takes the piece of chocolate, slow and careful in case the little boy has any doubts. 

As you’re walking back to the laundromat, you can see the entire interaction through the huge windows in the front. The look that’s on Jeno’s face as he interacts with the boy is enough to make your knees weak. It’s so soft, almost loving. 

When you step back inside, you try to be as discreet as possible, but the bell on the door alerts everyone that you’re there. The two boys look at you curiously before recognition crosses Jeno’s eyes. 

You slide him his bag of sour gummy worms, and without any hesitation, he tears the corner open and spills a few into his hand. He offers his open palm to the boy, who at this point, is giddy and glowing with this new established friendship. He happily takes the worms and nods his head very firmly, “Thank you!” 

The boy isn’t there for much longer as his grandmother finishes loading the clothing and calls him over so that they can get ready to leave. He stuffs all the worms into his mouth so that he can hold the box of detergent tablets for her. 

It isn’t long before your clothes are done in the wash so that you can dump them into the dryer. You and Jeno pass time by making fun of the music videos playing on the TVs and showing each other viral cat videos. 

If there is one thing you know about Jeno, it’s that he loves cats. He’s always making comments about them in passing, showing you cute videos, texting you that he’ll be home in 10, he’s just busy looking at the cats that are up for adoption. 

He wants one desperately, it’s just that… 

“You know there’s no room.” 

He sighs, leaning back into his chair and it squeaks. “We could, like, take it for walks to get the energy out. If anything, we can get an older, lazy cat. I think it would like the space between the window and the couch.” 

You laugh, turning your head to check the time left on the dryer. “The non-existent one?” 

He throws his head back and groans. Your eyes stay focused on the way his adam's apple bobs for a second too long. “Jeno, living in a space that small feels like a crime against myself sometimes. I would not want to put an animal through that type of pain. Hell, we’re the hamsters in the cage!” 

He chews on the inside of his cheek, giving you the stink eye, but it’s all in good fun. Deep down he knows that you’re right. 

The buzzer on the dryer goes off and catches the attention of both of you. You unload everything and dump it onto the folding table, a sigh slipping out of your mouth. 

Silently, Jeno offers to help you fold. You two split the pile of clothes in half and get to work, an awful Imagine Dragons song filling the silence. 

The entire situation isn’t quite ideal. The music is bad, the laundromat’s a little too cold, and you’d very much rather spend your time doing something else like ordering food and picking a thriller movie or challenging your roommate to a game of zombie COD. 

But that’s what life is all about, isn’t it? Doing mundane and annoying things with someone that you care about. Folding your laundry with Jeno right next to you, tackling the boring tasks in life with someone by your side. He didn’t have to come help you, but perhaps he offered because he didn’t want you to suffer by your pile of clothing alone. Yeah, that’s what it’s all about. 

It’s a little domestic. Okay, it’s painfully domestic. Everything about Jeno is- you live with him, for heaven’s sake. It’s an entire domestic fantasy playing out right before your eyes. 

At this point, you’re folding all your clothes on autopilot and you don’t even realize that the both of you are done with your piles. Jeno places every article neatly in your big drawstring bag, keeping it tidy before pulling at the string. He keeps it in his arms as he guides the both of you out to his car. 

“Let’s pick up some food, yeah? And search up some good thrillers in the car?”

Upsettingly domestic. 

When something, anything, occurs in Jeno’s life that requires him to tell another person so that he can get it off his chest, you are the first person to come to mind. How can he not think about you, when you’re the first face he sees in the morning? The one he makes dinner with, the one he discusses the houseplants with, the one he has to watch get ready in the bathroom, toothbrush in your hand as you sloppily call out to him to please remember to take out the trash. 

The two of you share a life together, you share practically everything together. Your living space, tidbits of your interactions with others, news that’s spreading around the city; your unmasked heart and soul shines through every single day. It’s so candid it could almost be romantic, yet it’s anything but that. 

Well, sometimes… 

No, Jeno doesn’t go there. But he can’t help but think… 

When something happens, you’re the person he wants to tell. The most basic and foundational characteristic of love. Sharing. It transcends the physical- of course, you do find yourselves splitting dinners and breaking the last cookie in half so that the both of you can enjoy. But it’s more than that, now. You and him break apart your own beings so that the other can understand, listen, and console. It’s love, he thinks. 

Platonic love, he quickly corrects. 

He’s been so busy thinking about it that he’s barely realized he’s been staring at the one piece of paint that’s chipping off the wall for too long. The sound of the shower water hitting the tub brings him back, and he looks to the closed bathroom door. 

He rushes to it, knuckles knocking on the wood. “Can I come in?” 

“Huh?” You practically holler. He laughs to himself, imagining your confused, scrunched up face. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Oh, yeah. Be quick because all the cold air gets in!” 

So he does just that, opening the door just a crack and trying to squeeze in his muscular form so that the air doesn’t rush in.

Jeno closes the door and leans against the bathroom counter, all the heat from the shower coddling him close. It could almost make him sleepy. 

“Taeyong wants to promote me.” 

“Huh?” You call, hands freezing in your hair as you wash it. “Are you serious? To what?” 

“Assistant Manager.” 

“Assistant Manager? Are you gonna take it?” 

“I don’t know, it’s just… I’m kind of nervous.” 

A beat of silence. He calls out your name. 

“Yeah, sorry. My face was in the water. Anyway, why? Scared an old geezer is gonna chew you out for the ‘new generation’s music’?’

He laughs. You’re lucky enough to hear it over the water. 

“It’s just a lot of responsibility, you know? Like, I’m so used to just doing what I’m told but now, it’s like, I gotta be in charge and tell the employees to get off their phones when they're on the clock. It’s betrayal, you know? How can I look Jisung in the eye and tell him that this is his first warning? I can’t do that.” 

You shut your eyes and try to stifle a laugh. It’s a laugh of endearment, though. Jeno cares so much about the people around him- even if it’s his younger coworker who works part time at the record store and barely even sees him more than three times a week. 

You shut the water off, voice clear. “Jeno. You worry a lot.” You pull back the shower curtain just a little to peek out, “Can you hand me my towel?”

He obeys, holding out the towel to the edge of the shower with his eyes closed. As soon as he feels it slip past his fingers and the sound of the shower curtain rings clink together, he opens his eyes. You’re still behind the curtain, drying off. 

“I think you should go for it. You’ll get more experience. Plus, from what you’ve told me, the record shop isn’t crazy unmanageable and unorganized. And,” You add, dragging out the ‘a’, “You’ll get a raise.” 

You’re right, he thinks, tilting his head and staring off. The shop is pretty calm, the customers are mostly older regulars and the occasional teenager in search of a Harry Styles vinyl. Plus, a raise would be nice. Really nice. 

“Did you tell Mark and Jaemin? What did they say?” 

Jeno hesitates. No, he hasn’t told them yet. You’re always the first person he wants to tell. 

“No,” He starts, honest. “I was gonna tell them right now, but I wanted to tell you first. I think I’ll follow your advice anyway.” 

Your heart stops in your chest. God, that made you feel so special. You’re at a loss for words before you feel the water drip from your hair down your back. 

“Good. Now step out ‘cuz I gotta dry off.” 

He smiles and follows your every word. He remembers not to let the cold air in, too. 

Jeno is your roommate. He is also your friend, a companion, a confidant. He’s nothing more, nothing less. 

People have eyes. They’re allowed to look. In fact, it is their god given right to let their eyes linger a little longer on someone as attractive as Lee Jeno. 

Why are you so upset? You can’t just shield him, carry a curtain around and charge a fee for people to look his way. He’s a free man. A free, good looking man. 

This party was a mistake. Watching Jeno be tonight's entertainer has planted a seed of bitterness and disappointment in your stomach that you have never felt. The bitterness is towards the situation- you’re not sure if you’re disappointed in yourself for feeling this way or for how the universe has laid out the cards. You long for something to happen. You wickedly hope for that girl to spill her drink on herself and be forced to walk away. You wickedly hope for Jeno to come to his senses and ask you if you wanna go back home and crush some random 12 year old in a shooter game. 

Come to his senses? What are you, his mentor? God forbid the man has fun for one night. He’s not even doing anything that bad. Just dancing with some girl you have never seen before, lifting his hand and caressing her jaw. He’s so unbelievable and so, so, so horrible when he gently tucks her hair behind her ear. You want to vomit. 

“You okay?” Jaemin asks, making you jump as he slips into the spot right next to you. He’s got a red cup in his hand and you hold back from snatching it and downing whatever the fuck is in it. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I’m kind of proud, actually. I’ve never seen Jeno interact with a woman before. Not like this, at least. I always thought he’d bring girls home every night, yet he never does.” 

Jaemin’s eyes flash with something like confusion, tenderness, sorrow. You don’t see it though, busy focused on the way Jeno leans into her and talks gently by her ear. She’s giggling and sliding her hand up his chest. You’re positive she can smell the cologne you helped him pick out earlier. 

“He’s just being courteous of you.” 

“I guess,” You say with a lazy shrug. Deep down you know you’re only trying to convince yourself that you see him and support him as a friend; strictly a friend. And you seem to play that part pretty well, because Jaemin does not question you at all. 

“I think I’m gonna head home,” You start, checking the time on your phone. Jaemin whips his head to look back at you, “Tapping out already?” 

“Yeah. I don’t really know anyone here, only came because Jeno invited me. Plus, he recently bought some new maps in COD, so, I think I wanna try those out.” 

“You sure? I think I could introduce you to someone, help you get that midterm stress off your mind.” 

You practically snort at his offer. He’s considerate, you think, but you cannot betray your own feelings. You’d be a fool to try and trick yourself into thinking a fling with some rando will make you feel better. 

Well… you’re still a fool. Yearning from afar, not doing anything about it. 

“Nah, I’m okay. Thank you, Jaem. Get home safe, okay?” 

He nods and the two of you part ways. 

You find yourself in an uber, shooting Jeno a text that says hey, i really wanna play COD so im heading home early. please be safe lol. :_)

You’re dropped off and you walk up to your apartment, trying your hardest not to wallow in your own feelings. You head straight to the bathroom to remove all your makeup and get ready for bed before pulling yourself up the stairs. 

Your mattress awaits you like it’s got its arms open. Cozy, warm, solid enough for you to cry into. 

Your home feels your pain. It’s like everything looks a little bit darker, the cream white walls seeming to be gray, the little light fixtures and hardware looking like frowny faces. The walls absorb all your feelings, reeking of longing and hope and something else that is usually paired with those two feelings. Something so captivating and large, dark and light, something so scary yet you just have to have faith in it. Something that you would rather die than confess to yourself. 

So it sits, pent up in the walls of your home. It haunts you. This stupid apartment haunts you, traces of the life you live with Jeno everywhere. You can’t hide. You can’t run to the other side of the hallway and lock yourself in the room in the very back- it’s not there. Your life and your feelings are right in front of your face, everywhere you turn, everything you touch. It stings, it burns, and god, this home will kill you. Your close and unavoidable proximity with Jeno will kill you. 

You’re so busy moping that you almost miss the sound of the door opening. It’s quiet, slow, and you bet to yourself that Jeno is trying his hardest to be kind, to not wake you up. 

You’re scared that you’ll hear the giggle of the girl, but it never comes. Just Jeno making his way around the shoebox, using the flashlight on his phone to light the way instead of switching the lights on so that he doesn’t disturb you. Curse that stupid boy. 

Jeno shuts the door to the bathroom and turns on the shower. The sound is so calming that it lulls you to sleep. 

He lets the warm water caress at his back, lets it help him relax. He replays every single thing that happened at the party. 

He regrets leaving you alone. In the back of his mind, he knew Mark and Jaemin would take good care of you, but shouldn’t he be doing that? Taking care of you. 

He’s not obligated to, of course, and he knows that if he ever mentioned that to you, you’d snicker in his face and tell him to shuddup and let loose. But he can’t. He tried and didn’t even get that far. 

Jeno got into the bedroom and onto the bed with that girl, his body slowly pushing against hers so that she could lay down. The top few buttons of his black shirt were already popped open and his mind was so foggy he almost didn’t hear his phone buzzing in his pocket. 

He felt bad, but he knew he would’ve hated himself even more if he ignored it, so he had pulled back and checked the screen. In his heart, he knew it was you. 

Luckily, you hadn’t seemed upset, but it was like guilt took him hostage as he realized you left the party without him. You got home without him, and you spent the night alone. Jeno suddenly felt so upset and so… gross. Grossed out with himself. He tossed you to the side just like that. And for what? A fling that wouldn’t fulfill his heart like you do? Yeah, no. 

“I’m sorry,” He starts, looking from his screen to the girl’s face. She’s got a look that tells him she already knows what's coming. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Um, yeah,” He says automatically, then falls quiet for a beat. “Well, kind of. I have to go.” 

“It's okay,” She says gently, and it hurts even more because she's genuinely nice about it. “Get home safely. I hope everything’s alright.”

So now Jeno’s home but he’s a little too late. You’re already tucked away in bed and he wishes he would've just come back with you, play a few games and then crash. It's odd not to hear you tell him goodnight; it's become like a ritual between you two. Some nights the two of you stick together like packed sardines in the bathroom, brushing your teeth and poking fun at one another with a quiet and subtle joy in your hearts. 

Jeno’s finishes showering by the time he’s done thinking over all the details. He dries off fast, feeling slightly uncomfortable and alone. Every space in the apartment is so silent that it’s unnerving. 

Before Jeno slips past the curtain to get to his bed, he stands at the foot of the stairs, making out the shape of your sleeping form, face smushed directly in your pillow. The sight is so you that he cannot help but chuckle quietly to himself. 

He sees you there, at the top of the stairs, and for a second it feels like you're waiting for him there. Patient and resting as he navigates through how he feels before making his descent upwards. 

Quickly, he realizes he's too sleepy to be plaguing himself with these thoughts. Jeno pulls back the curtain and sinks into his bed, subconsciously falling in a position that would fit against your body so perfectly if the two of you shared a sleeping space. You feel so close and so far from him. It's the last thing he thinks about before he falls asleep. 

How do you tell someone that you want them without actually telling them? 

Your relationship with Jeno is built on something so fragile that he’s afraid to mess up, trip and let the glass shatter. You’re friends– real close friends, if he thinks about it. You share a home together that’s small enough to make him think that it certainly violates a number of human rights. You cannot go a day without seeing or speaking to each other. 

It's so sour and it's so, so sweet. Spending everyday together, reading each other, communicating in small ways that mean the most– his heart swells and gets clogged in his throat. He’s so close to you it's like your fingertips are brushing against his as you sit on opposite sides of the couch. And, if all goes well, he could unabashedly take your hand in his and spread kisses on the back of it. Even better, he could pull you right into his lap and smush at your face, kiss you there too. So many possibilities… 

Along with those possibilities comes the ones that are on the other end of the scale. He could open up (more than he already has) about his feelings and unintentionally make you uncomfortable. Oh, he would hate himself if you felt uncomfortable in your own home. Then it would really be bad, because you'd both need time and space but you practically share a goddamn bunk bed and a kitchen that feels like a toddler’s first real-life toy. It pains him more to think that you'd be unhappy than how he would feel to be rejected. 

Instead, Jeno’s feelings manifest into actions and touch. When you get up from putting on your shoes and your hair's a little astray, he’ll reach over and fix it for you, keeping his touch light and gentle. He insists on helping you button up your coats and tying a bow on the back of your dresses. When he sees that you’re especially tired, he’ll wash all the dishes even though it was your turn. Sometimes, when the apartment feels especially warm and the lighting is cozy and you feel so lethargic yet blissfully happy, you’ll tell him about your day with his thumb caressing your cheek. And sometimes, you’ll lean into the palm of his hand and he’ll keep you still. 

It’s not until the day where he finds you knocked out on the couch that you slip up. He had come home late from work, the shop buzzing with people looking for a Christmas gift for that one vinyl collector of a friend. He had told you he’d be late, but you thought you’d still have enough energy to stay up and wait for him so that the two of you could eat dinner and call it a night. 

Unfortunately, you did not have the energy. Finals had been consuming your life and now that it was finally over, you ended up knocking out on the couch like a baby, leaving the lights on and everything. Jeno smiled softly at your sleeping form, a familiar type of warmth crawling into his heart and nestling inside it. He quietly slipped off his shoes and made his way straight toward you, calling your name softly as a test. 

You didn’t wake at all. You were gone. 

It kind of makes him laugh; a laugh of adoration, not amusement. It’s one of those things that’s a little funny in its own way. 

It happens, he supposes, when your heart and life is so full of love that it has to escape somehow. In touch, in kisses, in laughter. 

For you, it escapes loud and clear- verbally. 

After Jeno decides to take a risk and lift you into his arms, you automatically curl into him, trusting him even in the depths of your sleep. He’s slow to walk up the stairs, careful to not let your head hit the wall as he makes his way upward. 

And it’s when he lays you down on your mattress tenderly, hands lightly pushing away all the hairs that fell onto your face, that you stir just a little bit. 

“Goodnight,” He whispers to you, using his body to block out the light he hadn’t turned off. A dopey little smile creeps onto your face. You’re euphorically sleepy, the feeling of slipping in and out of it feels so good. 

“Thank you,” You rasp a little, turning over. “Love you.”

Then you’re gone again, and Jeno is frozen in place at the top of the stairs, shoulders stiffening as the words swirl around in his head. 

Firstly, he’s upset he didn’t get to say it back. But the disappointment washes away quickly and he’s overcome with joy, practically buzzing as he descends down the steps to shut off all the lights and get ready for bed. He’s got a stupid smile on his face that he can’t even put away as he brushes his teeth, and if any medical professional were to see him right now, he’s surely be diagnosed with lovesickness. 

He whimsies all the way to his room, pulling back the curtain and plopping down on his bed like it’s a cloud and he’s in heaven. He falls asleep thinking of all the ways to say I love you. 

Winter break is lovely. It’s an abundance of warm drinks, wooly socks, sleeping in, and having an excuse to wear corny pajama sets. Your heart is at ease and the cold weather feels so nice when it bites at your cheeks- especially when you feel yourself grow a little warm around Jeno. 

For Jeno, it’s even better because there are a plethora of Christmas parties. 

And, usually, there’s mistletoe. 

“Alright, don’t get too excited. Close your eyes!” 

He obeys, shutting them and even bringing up his hands in front of his face so that you don’t think he’s pulling any tricks. 

You’ve got him sitting on the couch in anticipation as you dig through your shopping bags to find what’s so important. After a few moments of rustling and humming under your breath, he hears you sigh in relief. 

You hold up two sweaters in front of you, side to side. One is clearly bigger than the other. They’re thrifted and it’s very obvious that they were previously owned by elderly people; maybe they scream vintage a little too much, earth toned with eye-catching patterns like stripes and triangles running across the entire sweater. They’re only a little bit outdated, but painfully cute, and perfect for the season. 

“Okay. Open!” 

Jeno lays his eyes upon the sweaters and immediately breaks out into a smile, eyes forming crescents. Really, he doesn’t even look at them for long. His gaze lands directly on you. 

“You like ‘em?” 

“Very much,” He affirms, with his eyes still set on you. He’s not really talking about the sweaters. 

“Good! We’re wearing them at Hyuck’s party this weekend.” 

So the two of you wear the matching sweaters to Donghyuck’s party. When the both of you step in, Jaemin automatically makes a face at Jeno, an expression that silently screams Finally? but Jeno shakes his head. He doesn’t look solemn, though. In fact, his eyes are hopeful and bright as he nods his head at everything you say. 

He doesn’t budge from your side, either. 

(He wants everyone to see that you’re matching). 

It pays off because Renjun tells you both that you look like an elderly couple, to which he quickly corrects himself and says ‘duo’ instead. It’s kind of embarrassing with the way that he rushes off after, face a little red. You’re not sure if it’s because of the fact that he’s tipsy or because he’s worried he’s crossed a boundary. If anything, his comment makes you have to hold back a smile, and from the corner of your eye, you see Jeno biting at his cheek too. 

Renjun’s flushed cheeks inspire you. “You want anything to drink?” 

Jeno contemplates for a second before shaking his head, “Nah. I’ll drive us back home.” 

But he follows you to the kitchen anyways, where it’s quieter because everyone is in the living room talking over Jingle Bell Rock. You swear you can hear Donghyuck break into laughter at some point; you can already envision his happy little glowing face nuzzling up to Mark. 

Jeno leans against the doorway to the kitchen, fingers playing with the edges of his sweater as he observes you moving around to get yourself a drink. He’s thinking about a hundred things at once, and somehow, you both calm and excite him. 

You approach him, steadily holding your glass so that nothing sloshes over and spills. “You wanna try? Just a sip.”

He nods and takes it from your hand, bringing it up to his lips for a second before he evaluates the taste. You wait expectantly, and then Jeno gives you a solid nod before looking back over his shoulder and extending his arm to place your glass on the counter. When he turns back around, his hand comes up to gently rest on your arm. He very, very carefully pulls you closer. It’s gentle, slow, and so subtle you almost don’t even realize the proximity between you two getting smaller and smaller by the centimeter. “It’s pretty good.” 

“Just pretty good?” 

“Yeah,” He replies, tone so soft and far away that you immediately realize he doesn’t really care about the drink all that much. And then you realize that he’s got these beseeching love-me eyes that make your heart twist in such a pleasant way that you know you can’t escape. 

You can’t go back to how it was before. You’ll never be your old self, coexisting with Jeno in your tiny home with no care or feeling in the world towards him. You can’t go back to the days of trying to sneak past him, trying to go through the days without making eye contact and conversation. You won’t even be able to go back to the days where you merely saw him as a friend, a casual buddy that you’re glad you have a good dynamic with because you happen to share a home together. You can’t ignore how you feel, what you feel. It’s so heavy and it lingers in the air between you two now. You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Look,” He nearly whispers, gesturing towards the ceiling with his chin. 

Mistletoe hangs at the doorway, green and white with a red ribbon adorning the stems. It’s so predictable and awful and overall so corny that you can’t help but laugh. Your tongue pokes at your cheek as your eyes trail from the plant back down to Jeno, who looks at you expectantly. He’s mindful enough to leave enough space for you to make a getaway if you want to. 

“Well,” You start, though it sounds more like a question, prompting Jeno to lean into you. 

He dips down and slots his lips against yours, pulling a wanton sigh out from you. You’re quick to have your hands on him, fingers tightening around the fabric of his sweater and you swear you can feel him smiling within the kiss. It’s almost enough to make you pull back so you can see the look on his face, but he holds you in place, fingers softly trailing through your hair. He hums contently, the deep sound of it making the tips of your ears warm. 

Your hands travel, sliding up his chest, and the two of you break apart before you end up devouring one another at the doorway of Donghyuck’s kitchen. 

Jeno smiles down at you as I’ll Be Home For Christmas starts playing. 

You’re a little nervous, the fear that comes with love pestering you at the back of your mind. You’re scared this’ll be a big unspeakable thing, a thing you’ll have to avoid in the house with Jeno. A thing that’ll never happen again, a thing to blame on the tiny sip of the drink he had and the consequences of spotting mistletoe. 

But Jeno’s eyes ask you to trust him, that he wants this just as much as you do. Perhaps this can be a reoccurring thing, except you don’t need mistletoe or drinks. You can do this in the comfort of your own home, when he gets home from work, after you both finish brushing your teeth, when you’re both making breakfast, or maybe in bed right after you wake up. 

You dive in again, hands sliding farther up till your fingers tousle through his hair, thumbs brushing against his ears. It tickles him a little, body reacting and caving into you a bit more, his hands cupping your cheeks. You tip your head back just the slightest and he follows, looming over you. He looms over you in a way that is so warm and loving and consuming - I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. 

Yes, he’s here. Holding you tenderly, your bodies shaped so nicely against one another at last. You’re no longer sitting on opposite ends of the couch, looking at each other from the top and bottom of the stairs, eyes lingering as soon as someone turns away. He’s touching you, and this time you don’t have to shy away or cough and he doesn’t have to play it off as a mistake, a mindless brush of skin that doesn’t mean anything. No, it means everything now. 

#lee jeno x reader #jeno x reader #jeno fluff #lee jeno fluff #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct jeno x reader

[suuuupernovaaa]

Accident

Timothee accidentally posts a picture of you, blowing your cover.

The panic sets in like ice flowing through your veins. A tingling at your fingertips shoots straight into your heart. Your eyes are wide, your palms are sweaty. It takes you a few seconds to open up FaceTime and dial his number.

He answers right away.

“Timothee, what did you do?” you ask, your voice low in case he isn’t alone. Your boyfriend is never alone.

The smile he had upon answering fades into something dark. “What?” he asks.

“Instagram,” you reply. “Look at your instagram story.”

When he disappears, you do too, going back to the story. It’s a picture of you perched on a stone wall, looking down the side of a mountain Timothee and you had just hiked. You hadn’t even known he’d just taken it. Your hair was stuck to your neck with sweat, and only part of your face is visible over your shoulder, as you turn to look at him.

His hand is on your shoulder, gripping tightly, possessively, and a hint of a smile plays at the half of your face that’s visible.

You’re wearing one of his t-shirts, an old, plain black one, and the sunset ahead of you makes the picture look like art.

Maybe no one will assume, or wonder. Timothee isn’t even really in it. Just hand.

“Shit, Y/N,” he says, and you swipe back to FaceTime. “Should I delete it?”

“Um… no. Well, maybe. I think people will talk more if you delete it. Maybe just leave it?”

It’s not like he tagged you. You’re not in his following list, because no one is. You’re a total unknown.

“Okay,” he says, the panic in his voice subsiding. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “You don’t have to be sorry. It was an accident. And you can’t hide me forever.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re hiding you. I’m protecting you.”

A soft smile crosses your lips. “I know.”

He winks. “I gotta go, but I’ll have management keep an eye on things online. Call me after work?”

You nod and he blows you a kiss before hanging up.

—

Boy, were you wrong. You’ve been wrong about some things in your life, but never something this big.

They’ve found your instagram, Facebook, and LinkedIn within two hours. You’re getting dozens of requests by the minute, and you’ve never been more grateful to have your socials private before.

The workday passes in a blur of buzzing on your phone. Most of it is follow requests on instagram, but the rest is your friends and family sending you articles about Timothee Chalamet’s ‘mystery girl revealed’.

Timothee Chalamet & the Lawyer from NYC

Timothee Chalamet’s Secret Lover

Timmy’s girlfriend: we talked to her childhood best friend!

It’s endless and you start requesting they stop sending all the nonsense your way. Your mom calls to ask if you’re okay, and your actual best friend reminds you that you knew this day would come, and she’s here for you.

The comments on his latest instagram post are hard to look away from.

user he’s dating that sweaty beast?

user she looks happy!

user who the hell is she???

user FAT GIRLFRIEDN??

reply to user fuck off with your misspelled fatphobia

Eventually, you put your phone on DND to finish your day. The subway ride home is uneventful, and as soon as you set foot in your modest apartment, you call Timothee.

“Well,” he says as an answer, “now I might have to say sorry.”

Despite the stress of the day, you have to laugh. “Maybe. But, this was going to happen anyway. Though one article called me a ‘social climbing hussy’ and I didn’t love that.”

You throw your bag onto the kitchen table and put your boyfriend on speaker phone so you can find something to order for dinner. This day calls for Thai, or maybe Indian.

“Don’t read that shit, Y/N,” he huffs. “None of it matters. I’m like, really sorry people are going to bother you now. But I’m not sorry that everyone is going to find out how in love and happy I am.”

Your cheeks heat, even though he can’t see you. It hasn’t even been a year, but Timothee is already the most special and wonderful thing in your life, and it’s no wonder when he says things like that.

“I wish you were here,” you sigh.

“Me too. Only a few more days.”

—

You stashed your phone in your room to charge, and to avoid, and turned on the TV. Sitting cross-legged in front of your coffee table in your most comfortable pajamas, you’re about to dig in to the most delicious spread of Indian cuisine when the door buzzes.

Could they have found your address?

You get up and press the speaker. “Let me in! You’re not answering your phone!”

Your heart skips a beat and you’re unable to even respond as you hit the button that unlocks the front door. You stand frozen in shock until three loud knocks sound at the door.

Once it’s open, there he stands, and he’s not empty handed. He’s got what looks to be two dozen beautifully arranged roses along with a giant bag full of what you assume is chocolate and candy.

You grab him by the collar and pull him to you, wrapping your arms around his neck. It’s been weeks since you’ve seen him, and the scent of him erases every bad thing that’s happened in the past 12 hours.

It’s worth it, your mind whispers.

He sets the flowers and gifts down on the kitchen counter. “I did something, and I don’t know if you’re going to like it, but let me explain,” he says, a wincing smile on his lips.

You bring his face to yours for a quick kiss. “I don’t care. I’m so glad you’re here.”

He takes out his phone and hands it to you. It’s unlocked already, and instagram is open.

He’s made a new post, and your heart flutters.

It’s a picture from a few months ago, taken at a friend’s house. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, and Timothee stands between your legs, both of you laughing, his hands in your hair and yours on his hips. You hadn’t even known your friend had taken it at the time, but it’s been his phone background ever since, he loves it so much.

The caption is simple. “Happy.”

Your reaction surprises you as tears gather in your eyes. “They’re going to really come after me now.”

“I know. And I am sorry. But, Y/N, I know privacy is important to us both… but sometimes, I just want to talk about how happy I am. I think we can find a balance.”

He wipes a tear from your eye.

“I’m proud to be yours, Timothee,” you reply, and his smile stretches ear to ear. “Really, really proud. I love you. I just want to be careful, okay?”

He kisses your nose, then each cheek, and pulls you into a tight embrace. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect this, Y/N,” he whispers, and you squeeze him tight.

You’ll navigate this together.

#timothee chalamet fic #timothee x reader #timothee Chalamet #Timothee imagine

[ladylooch]

Green Devil with Nico Hischier

A/N: I’m feeling a lil angsty Nico RN. Like I love fluff, but I wanted a little bit of sass from him. 

This is part of What My World Spins Around AU. Catch the rest on my masterlist here.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warning: Swearing, jealousy, lil angsty, hinting at smut cause it’s me.

Tonight, I’m living.

Someone bought my coffee in line at the drive thru this morning. Nico is home, and my best friend from high school, Connor, is in town for work. I’ve been dying for Nico and Connor to meet since we started dating, but the timing never seemed to work until Connor texted me last week that he had some time on his next trip. Once I saw Nico was in town, I jumped at the offer.

“I’m really excited for you to meet Connor!” I bubble to Nico as we walk down the sidewalk towards a trendy, Tapas bar.

“Me too.” Nico responds as he wraps an arm around my shoulder. I shiver, clutching his side to try and suck some of the warmth from his body. “Remember I need to leave by 9 though. If you want to stay later, that’s cool with me.” He grasps the handle of the door, opening it for me to walk in. He gives my ass a discreet slap as I go in front of him. I toss a suggestive look over my shoulder that he receives while biting his lip.

If I wasn’t so caught up in myself, I would have taken note of the immediate change in Nico when Connor and I rush to embrace each other. Connor wraps me in a tight hug that causes me to miss the irked expression on Nico’s face about how close his hands are to my ass.

“You look incredible.” Connor smiles widely, taking me in from head to toe. I pose for a second as a joke while he keeps his hands on my hips.

“Find a NHL captain and you too can be this happy.” I turn to Nico who has pasted a polite smile on his face that doesn’t quiet meet his eyes.  “Babe, this is Connor. Connor, Nico.”

“Hey man, nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Nico extends a hand. They shake firmly. Connor breaks first. 

“You too, man.” Connor juts his chin out in acknowledgment at Nico, then crosses his arms over his chest. “They’re just getting our table cleaned.”

“Oh, okay.” I nod. “So tell me all about Miami. I am dying to hear about your new condo.”

“Unreal views. You should come down next month. We can have a fun weekend together. Get wasted on expensive tequila like Cabo.”

“Oh my god, no.” I hide my face. 

“She legally cannot step foot in that resort again.” Connor says to Nico, snickering.

“Long story.” I shake my head, red tinging my cheeks. I’ve never told Nico about it because it’s still so cringy and embarrassing. Connor motions like he’s spewing vomiting. I slap his bicep to give him a warning. “Stop. Seriously.” 

Luckily, the host is ready to show us to our table. We spend the rest of the night chatting. Connor and I reminisce about our old high school friends we have lost touch with. We stalk their Facebook pages and Instagrams, laughing at how the more things change the more they stay the same in our hometown. Nico is quiet, but that’s normal with people he doesn’t know well. He seems to be content with fading into the background. At least I thought so.

“I think I’m going to head out.” Nico begins to put his jacket on as Connor and I look over the dessert drink menu. I turn to him, surprised. I check my Apple Watch, seeing it’s barely 8pm.

“Oh okay. Are you okay?” I ask, lowering my voice while I examining him for signs of distress. He seems fine. Maybe he’s just tired?

“Yep. Have a good night, baby.” He barely presses his lips to mine before he pulls away, leaving me with unsatisfied, puckered lips. He tells Connor it was great meeting him as he tosses a few hundred dollar bills on the table for the bill. When his body moves from beneath my fingers, I feel an uneasy chill from his absence. Something doesn’t feel right about this. Connor doesn’t notice and dives back into his persistence of me coming to visit him in Miami next month.

“Um…” I cut him off. “Sorry. I’ll be right back.” I say abruptly, grabbing my coat and purse before rushing to the front of the restaurant. The cold air blasts me, stealing my breath as I look to the left where Nico is about to turn into the parking lot.

“Nico.” I call after him, hustling to catch up with his long strides. “What is up with you?” I ask him breathlessly, reaching for his hand and pulling him to a stop. “And what was that kiss?” I wrinkle my nose in displeasure.

“I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.” His shoulders are rolled inwards as he talks to me, grimacing against the cold wind whipping down at us. I sigh, not liking the way he looks above my head.

“Neeks, you seem upset with me.”

“I’m not.” He shrugs, licking his lips and continuing to avoid eye contact. I cross my arms at his chilly attitude. A realization comes over me at the slight scowl on his face.

“Are you… jealous?” I ask with a small smile.

“No, just… have fun with your friend.” He scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets. He looks away from me and down the street. I can see his jaw tense as he grits his teeth.

“Wow….” I trail off with a breezy laugh. I step closer, biting my bottom lip. “You look pretty green for red being your team’s color.” I set my hands on his hips, wrapping my arms around his back. I secure myself to him tightly, resting my chin on his chest so I’m looking up at his face. “Babe, look at me.” I soften my voice so he knows I’m done teasing. He licks his lips exasperatedly, then turns his sour, scrunched face to me. I raise my eyebrows, signaling I’m waiting.

“Fuck yeah I’m jealous.” He finally scoffs out. At least he wraps his hands around me, pushing me tighter to him.

“Why?” I can’t even begin to fathom why he feels that way. He’s the sweetest, handsomest, dreamiest man I have ever laid eyes on.  

“I feel like he knows you better than me. And I hate that.” I snort, leaning forward to press my forehead to his chest. Nico silently watches me when I pull back.

“Every one of those jokes and stories are from before you.” I pause, waiting for him to soften. When he doesn’t, I continue. “He knows nothing about me anymore. You’re my life now. Not high school football games and Applebee’s late night happy hour.”

“But Miami?” He rolls his eyes.

“I won’t go. It’s obviously bothering you, so it’s not worth it. You’re my priority.”

We stare at each other until Nico finally sighs, looking away at the busy street behind me. I get closer, onto my tip toes, then tenderly pressing my lips on his throat. People pass around us, the world continuing on as we hold each other. I work my mouth up to the nook of his shoulder and neck. I open my mouth a little more, sucking his skin into my mouth. His shoulders relax, head meeting mine as his hands grip my back tighter. I pull away just before I mark him, pressing my nose to the wet spot. I run my hand across his shoulder to the back of his neck and cradle his head. A heavy exhale from him ends our hug.

“Okay.”

“Will you come back with me?” 

“No, but you should stay. For real. Spend time with him… then come home to me.” His eyes darken with hunger as he brushes my hair behind my ear, holding my cheek. I watch as he closes his eyes, then leans down to capture our lips together. This is the kiss I needed from him earlier. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, running his tongue along the plumped skin. I’m intoxicated when we pull apart. I stare at the lapels of his jacket.

“Maybe… I wanna come home now.” He smirks at me as I pull my phone out and text Connor a quick lie. “I’m suddenly soooo sick.” Nico leans his head back to laugh towards the sky.

“Let’s go needy girl.”

#nico hischier #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier fic #hockey writing #my writing #nhl fan fiction #new jersey devils

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

am I the asshole for sort of accidentally ruining someone's wedding and kind of dooming their marriage?

I know that sounds really really bad but please bear with me because I really didn't mean for this to happen and I still just feel really confused about the part I played in all this and don't know if I'm an asshole for it.

I (23f) used to date this guy in college on and off, over the course of several months. He dropped me out of the blue one day and I saw later on social media he was engaged to a girl we both knew. I'm still unclear if she was aware that he and I were in a situationship deal while he was also, I guess, dating her and playing serious. I just figured okay icky but whatever, we won't be speaking again.

Then I get a wedding invitation. I figured it had to be a mistake, no way she'd want me there so I called her (she'd been my RA at one point so I still had her number saved). She said no, no mistake I was legitimately invited because we'd sorta been close during that year she was my RA and she was so nice over the phone idk I felt bad for wanting to say no so I said yes, I'd be there and also sent the rsvp back. I know I should've said something like hey I used to mess around with your soon to be husband I don't think I should be there especially if you didn't know about that but I just didn't say anything about it.

I continued to feel weird about it up until the day of the wedding. The reception was lovely if a little awkward mostly because I felt so awkward, but nearly two hours went by and I started hearing in chatter that they couldn't find the groom. People in the wedding party were really starting to freak out thinking he just straight up left.

They eventually found him, he locked himself in a room at the hotel where the reception was being held. Eventually someone comes to me saying I need to go talk to him because he only wants to speak to me. I just truly wanted to die and get swallowed up by the ground but I said fine I'll go talk to him and see if I can convince him to come out.

We talk, he says he can't go through with it because he's been staring at me the entire time and not even thinking about the bride to be literally on the other side of the door listening to us. I got a little heated telling him that he's really hurting her and it's extra shitty because that wasn't just about him it's about her too, hes the one who proposed to her, planned a wedding with her, ect. I said call it off if you want but you and I aren't getting back together and you need to go out there either way and talk to her.

After that he came out, idk what was discussed exactly with her or the wedding party but eventually they said the ceremony will go through as planned. I couldn't get out of there fast enough, I felt so horrible that I'd probably ruined this girl's dream day and I should've turned down the invitation and been straight up with her.

I tried to forget about it then three months later he hits me up on a blank burner account on facebook explaining it was him and asking me for nude pictures. I screenshot the messages, did not respond, and sent them to his wife. They both blocked me on everything after that but I heard from a mutual friend that she'd filed for divorce, they hadn't even been married for three full months.

It's not solely because of me that they got divorced, apparently there was a whole slew of girls he'd been messaging and he never really stopped messing around behind her back but I feel like if I'd just said something right away during that initial call maybe she wouldn't have gone through with it and wouldn't have been put in that position as the wife who got cheated on.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[gaysullengirl]

𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞, 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫. 𝐯𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

❝ do you get deja vu, when she's with you? ❞

- deja vu, olivia rodrigo

Isabelle wore a wine red dress that was tight fitting on top and had a short flowy skirt- which concealed her gun easily.

She ordered some water's while Emily found a table, when she walked back she noticed Viper talking to Emily.

Isabelle walked to the table "Hi, Viper" Isabelle said flirtatiously, if Isabelle was an expert in anything it was playing men just like a violin.

"You promised if we met you on your turf, you'd show us something special." Emily smiled.

"Yeah, Viper, who gets pushed and who gets pulled tonight?" Isabelle asked and his eyes widened.

"Here let me show you." He spoke, attempting to re-gain his confidence, "You see, eye contact is a very powerful gauge."

"It's why you tend to look away from someone you're attracted to, because you know instinctively what a dead giveaway it is, but your brain goes there anyway, images, fantasies."

Isabelle laughed, "Don't flatter yourself."

"The eyes don't lie, they dilate, it's a chemical response, we can't control it."

After Isabelle's eyes didn't dilate whatsoever he moved to Emily, "Come on, do it, are you scared your eyes might dilate?" he teased.

"No, Paul, I'm baffled, I cannot figure out what the unsub could have learned from you." Emily said.

"What do you mean? He took my look, my words, everything that makes me successful to the opposite sex." He defended himself.

"Really? Because that guy can get beautiful women into his apartment." Emily provoked him even more.

"I wouldn't even let you on my facebook." Isabelle  deadpans. 

Emily Smiled, "Oh you have facebook? I'll follow you."

"Thanks-" Viper cut Isabelle off.

"Hey, hey, hey! I gave him-" "Shh" Isabelle cut him off. "Why'd you interrupt me? can you not stand the attention being on someone else for a second?"

"We've been watching all the women in the club and not one of them has looked at you, so who do you really go home with, Paul?" Isabelle asked in an innocent tone.

"Or- or do you go home alone?" Emily frowned, faking sadness.

"That was really good, ladies, that was really good, don't you think I know why you're here?" he asked.

"One of my students copies my moves, and you're here to get inside my mind, don't you see? I confronted my queen bee a long time ago." He raised his voice.

"What's a queen bee?" Isabelle furrowed her brows.

"You are." He exclaimed, pointing a finger at her.

"Every student who's ever taken my class has had one in his life, and the first exercise my students have to complete is to confront their queen bee."

"It could be the girl who cheated on you, the prom date who stood you up, you find them and you squash them." Emily and Isabelle shared a look before they walked toward the club's exit.

Isabelle saw Spencer talking to a bartender, she noticed him point to the women's ear and she grabbed a piece of paper from her hair.

Isabelle was pissed to say the least, not only was he flirting on the job but he was also using the same tactic he had used with her.

"Hey Em, I have to go to the bathroom really quick." she walked into the bathroom urgently.

Isabelle silently begged herself not to cry, she knew everyone would assume she's weak if she started crying. 

Isabelle took a few deep breaths and left the bathroom, her and Emily exit the club to find Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Reid waiting for them.

Isabelle brushed passed Spencer, purposefully knocking her shoulder against his.

"What was that for?"

"You're fine, if it really hurts maybe you should go get your girlfriend to comfort you" Isabelle spit angrily and kept walking.

"Girlfriend?"

"Really Spencer? flirting on a case?" Isabelle turned to face him.

"You were too" he argued, Isabelle scoffed "Because that's what I was assigned to do."

"No, I could tell you actually like him, you we're actually flirting." He elaborated.

Isabelle just stared at him, 'is he being for real?' was all she could thin, "Spencer that was fake flirting."

"Really? cause it seemed real." He admitted, sounding hurt.

"God! you're such a hypocrite, are you hearing yourself? You're upset because I was 'flirting' with viper while you're giving a random bartender your number? with the same tactic you used on me might I add. Come on Spencer you have an eidetic memory and you're seriously forgetting how we met?" She shouted.

Spencer's eyes started to water, "No, but i'm still a little blurry on how we broke up,  you said you wanted to break up then the next day you're gone, I mean did I even mean anything to you?"

Isabelle didn't want to have this conversation with him—ever, but especially not in front of her new coworkers, so she turned around and started walking toward the suv.  

"Go fuck your self, Isa!" He shouted.

If anyone dared to speak to Isabelle the way Spencer was she would turn around punch them, shoot them, then bury them six feet under and never be caught, but since it was Spencer she didn't.

Isabelle just quietly got in the suv.

authors note!

thank you sm for reading!! <33

#jade’s works ⋆·˚ ༘ * #criminal minds #fanfic #fbi #fbi agent #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid series #alexa demie

[bihansthot]

In a non self ship update, Ani has been sending me spicy/flirty basically sexts all day he’s so in trouble when I get a hold of him. He’s not having a great mental health day so I won’t see him until Saturday or Sunday but he made sure to get me worked up. He still hasn’t decided if he’ll come to my birthday party I don’t know if party is the right word if a max of three people show up but maybe he will? It would certainly be nice having both the people I care about celebrate turning 800 million. I wish you lovelies could come celebrate with me. 🩷 I understand if he’s uncomfortable though he and my partner have never met so it’s an awkward situation. Hilariously after chatting with Ani I got an ad for an Anakin statue on Facebook and I thought it was very funny and apropos. I have a busy week of stupid lab work and doctor’s appointments next week before my actual bday on Friday, and we still haven’t booked anything yet. We’re planning on doing a Vegas in Detroit weekend because we can’t afford to go to Vegas and I’ve wanted to go for years so we’re doing the next best thing and going to the casino in downtown and staying the night if we can find boarding accommodations for Denny. I know some of you are like “Sol you’ve had months to plan this” yes we have but we had to save up money and get Denny up to date on his vaccines to be able to board him so we can’t book anywhere until tomorrow afternoon after his vet annual. So it’s all kind of last minute. Hopefully we’ll find someplace and if not we’ll just have a quiet birthday at home, my big plans for my 25th heart transplant anniversary never went anywhere so it wouldn’t really surprise me if my milestone bday doesn’t work out either my bday rarely goes well but that’s just life I guess. Either way we should still be able to have a nice dinner which is what I’m really excited about, even though I can’t eat a lot anymore. I’m only 35-40 mins from the casino so really I can go anytime if it doesn’t work out I just thought it’d be fun to have an irresponsible staycation somewhere fancy. I just wanted us all to have a fun time but I suppose we’ll see what the universe has in store for us. I really never thought I’d see this bday as I was supposed to die as a kid so it’s kind of a huge deal I just hope it’s a fun one, my last big milestone bday was my worst ever (long story short my Mother and I had a very toxic relationship at the time, she got shit faced insisted it was her bday and ruined the whole occasion) so as long as it’s better than that we’ll be good. I unofficially celebrated my bday when I was with my family earlier this week and had my favorite cake but much to my dismay my nephews were not fans of it but they loved my cooking and begged my brother to get lessons from me so that was nice. How do an 8 and 10 year old not like a caramel chocolate cake?! I guess the pecans were the problem they don’t have allergies they just don’t like nuts I guess. They’re very picky and light eaters but I guess that’s expected at that age, hell I’m a billion and am still very picky but it’s a texture issue for me not a taste one. All in all the visit was successful but my partner never got a chance to tell their Mom they’re nonbinary and use they/them pronouns and have a new name. The drive was awful, we got a speeding ticket on the way to my partner’s Mom’s and had insane traffic and weather driving back from my folks in Florida, turns out Denny barks incessantly when the windshield wipers are on 😭 We made it safely though so that’s what’s most important, I haven’t made any weight loss progress though because of all the holiday food and lack of exercise. No excuses now that my routine is back to normal, back to the elliptical and healthy foods. Just figured I’d update you lovelies on what’s going on with me, I’ll post later in the week after my cardiologist appointment to keep y’all up to date with that too. Sending lots of love.

XOXO

Sol

#life update #birthdays #road trip

[youngerdrgrey]

all the pieces aren't even in the box // the morning show, bradley/laura, chapter two

about: Bradley and Laura's last few months in Montana and how the world reacts along the way (and maybe how they find their way back to each other) ~ read chapter one chapter two summary: in mid-July 2020, the gulf between Bradley and Laura widens as Sandy's funeral approaches. Laura's well-meaning ideas could change their relationship forever.

notes: my friends have requested/actively campaigned that this is not solely a break-up story. (they're anti-break up in general. we'll see, but either way, there will be joy as well.) it's not long after chapter one. Here's Bradley Jackson to kick us off before Laura takes the reins again. (read chapter one on AO3)

mid J U L Y (2020)

Somehow Sandy Jackson’s funeral becomes the hottest ticket in West Virginia.

It’s not like Bradley can go either way, but suddenly everybody she’s ever known wants to go and pay their respects. And fucking Hal — bless him — he’s never made an e-vite in his life. Bradley’s the one who types up the information and sends him the template. All he has to do is input the emails and paste it on Facebook.

But when Hal finally fucking posts it, he’s taken out the note about masks and social distancing. Bradley calls him up immediately, but he screens her call. Of course she leaves a voicemail.

“Hal! Don’t make me call you again. I haven’t asked for much, but you’d think since our mom died of fucking Covid that you would keep the mask mandate at her funeral. Or do you wanna die too?”

Bradley winces as soon as the words leave her mouth.

It’s just the kind of shit her mom used to say. She can’t fucking put that on Hal. She doesn’t think he’s suicidal. He’s just…. He doesn’t use his head right. He doesn’t want to be uncomfortable because once he gets uncomfortable, he starts thinking about what makes him actually comfortable, and he’s not supposed to be doing any of that anymore. He’s managed to stay sober since Mom died. She can’t fucking push him to the edge now.

So she hits the button to re-record and snaps, “Don’t screen my calls. Call me back. I don’t want Mom’s funeral to be a superspreader. Just put the masks as optional if you have to.”

She hangs up so that version of the voicemail will go through. Huffs as her phone buzzes with another dozen RSVPs. Fucking Harvard boy Alan from South East News Network clicked maybe. He’d never even met her mom.

Who would’ve thought when you cussed out those coal protestors that you’d end up anchoring at UBA? Let me know if you’re coming back for the funeral. We should get coffee.

How in the fuck did he even see this?

.

.

Bradley spends the rest of the day on a warpath. She stomps ahead of Laura on their afternoon walk. She turns on a movie even though she knows Laura would rather watch another episode of SVU. She even finishes the coffee creamer and puts it back in the fridge instead of chucking it into the trash.

It’s not like it matters. She’s the one who has to take it out anyway. She’s the only one who ever leaves the house for real. She can go to the grocery store, but she can’t go say goodbye to the woman who raised her. She can talk to the whole country every morning, but talking to the rest of her family? Giving some emotional eulogy about who they lost, or why they have to fucking wear masks even though some random coworker on Facebook who hasn’t washed his hands in three years claims to be an expert on disease.

At least Laura takes it in stride. She pulls up a separate blanket for herself on the couch without comment. She pours her wine a little heavier and gives Bradley a wide berth for their unintended movie night. She’s more patient than Bradley deserves. More patient than Bradley would be in reverse. 

Bradley would’ve started emptying other things just to make the point of how fucking frustrating it is to have empty containers in the fridge. But Bradley’s a mess, and Laura is not. Laura has an entire ranch with horse stables and an in-home studio. A bookcase in her sitting room with her Emmy awards and her Pulitzer. A real life with real people who come over when she’s lonely and play charades in her backyard.

What does Bradley have? What has she ever had in this shitty world she’s trapped in?

Hal finally calls Bradley back an hour into the movie. Bradley waves Laura off before Laura even reaches for the remote.

“You can keep watching,” Bradley says as she gets up off the couch. 

She heads out the french doors to the backyard. Figures that way if she starts yelling at her brother Laura won’t freak out too much. Bradley’s gotta stop bringing chaos into Laura’s house. Wasn’t that what Laura said back in Nevada? No chaos. That’s why she cut off Alex. That and the outing, but it’s not like Bradley can out Laura a third time.

Hal launches into a speech the moment Bradley answers. He says, “I’ll have a box of masks there, but if I put that in the invite, that’s it. All they’ll talk about is masks and how vaccines won’t work once they’re ready. It’s a funeral, Bradley, not one of your debates.”

Bradley bites on her tongue so hard it stings. It’s not a debate either way, Hal. It’s basic science. 

She grinds out, “Fine. But where’s the Zoom link?”

“Come on, Brad.”

Her eyes flash. “Don’t ‘come on.’ There has to be a Zoom, or I won’t see it at all.”

“That’s not fair. I’m the one setting all this up.”

“And I’m the one paying for it! I’ve been making all the calls—“

“And I’m just the screw up who puts the tables out, huh?”

It’s a trap, but Bradley’s not letting it go. “You said it not me.”

“Yeah, I said it. You can make all the calls you want from your little girlfriend’s cabin, but I’m the one actually sitting in this shit.” Hal’s voice shakes. Like roof tiles in a thunderstorm. Garage doors on the way down. “You want to deal with all the fucking food in the deep freezer? All these shitty ass casseroles? You know the fridge couldn’t even close the other day? We should’ve had a death as kids. That would’ve filled it up.”

“Don’t say that.”

He’s not listening. He sounds manic. Not at full tilt, but ramping up. “Everybody’s got something to say. They miss her. They loved her. They’re full of shit. You know how many people called when she had Covid? Guess. Guess how many, Brad.”

Saddest fucking guessing game of her life. 

“I don’t know, four.” That’s Roberta from the church, Mary Anne from their old park, and Lewis from the senior center. He was sweet on their mom last Bradley heard. Better to her than their no good father ever could’ve been. Mom’s words.

“One. You.”

A chill rolls down her spine. Only one.

She averts her eyes out to Laura’s yard. Technically she’d been looking out that way before, but she wasn’t looking at first. It was just something to glare towards since she couldn’t glare at Hal. 

But there’s a squirrel picking at the open table fire pit. There’s probably some marshmallow if it digs deep enough. Laura dropped half of hers the other night. The s’mores were meant to be a pick-me-up for Bradley. They hadn’t been able to do them when Emma and Sam were over. Sandy’s death put a damper on their gay double date.

Sandy Jackson, for all her faults, didn’t deserve to die alone. A whole life, and the only people who checked on her were the kids who had to. Hal couldn’t avoid it. He lived there. And Bradley….

Maybe Hal was wrong. Maybe he missed the calls or the texts.

Bradley asks, “You sure? Nobody from the church?”

Hal sniffles. “Not until after she died. Then it was flowers by the screen door. Casseroles and all them knocking whenever they saw Ma’s car in the driveway. I put it in the garage. Turned off the lights so they’d leave me alone.”

Bradley’s heart aches. He used to do that as a boy. Sit in the dark during fights and try to see how quiet he could be. Like he could make himself small enough to just disappear. He should’ve grown out of that by now. He shouldn’t still be so damn afraid of being alive.

“What about Sheryl?” That’s Hal’s girlfriend. “Why don’t you go to her place? Hide out over there.”

“Like you and Laura?” Hal huffs. “I’m fine here.”

“You’re not fine. You’re —“

“I’m fine. Sitting in the dark’s a lot better than getting high. You want something to fix? Help me keep Dad from showing up.”

Bradley freezes. She hasn’t heard from their dad since she started on TMS. He’d called her out of the blue, and she’d told him never to talk to her again. Was he still talking to Hal? She can’t stop that. She can’t let him back into her life.

She must take too long to say something because Hal huffs a second time.

He says, “Didn’t think so. Forget it. You want a Zoom, then send a link. I don’t have the fancy one. Mine’ll cut off after an hour.”

“Alright.” Her voice sounds too soft. Quiet. Weak. She repeats herself with force behind it. “Alright, I’ll send you a link. Add it into the invite. Tell everybody they can log in if they don’t want to go in person.”

She knows as she says it that he won’t do that. He’ll add the link, but he won’t make the suggestion. He wants all those people there. He wants the strangers and the church fellowship and the fans who only go to see if Bradley will show up. He wants a village. And she can’t give him that.

“I gotta go, Brad.”

“Yeah, me too. Laura’s… watching a movie.” Bradley can’t remember which one now. “Call me if something else comes up.”

“Yeah, sure.” He hesitates, but he clicks off without saying that he loves her. 

“Love you too,” she says to nobody.

.

.

Laura isn’t watching the movie when Bradley walks back in. It’s paused on nearly the same screen Bradley left it on. An immature part of Laura had wanted to change the channel while Bradley was gone. They were meant to watch SVU tonight. Bradley knew that, but the blonde’s been lashing out in little ways.

She lets the trash overflow before taking it out. She makes her own coffee while Laura’s in the shower and stews in the studio until show time. She stops calling Laura babe.

But Bradley is allowed to be upset that her mom died. Bradley gets to react to that. Would Laura like if the reaction didn’t feel targeted at her? Of course. That does not change the fact that this is how Bradley needs to grieve. Laura can give her that. Until after the funeral at least.

So Laura finishes her first glass of wine and pours a second. Picks up the book on attachment styles that she’s only partially reading out of passive aggression. And she waits for her girlfriend to come back. And if it feels like she’s still waiting, even as Bradley returns and settles back onto the couch beside her, well, that’s between Laura and her next therapy appointment.

“How’s Hal?” Laura asks. 

Bradley circles her jaw, but she doesn’t make a sound. Not the worst call then. “He invited half of West Virginia to Mom’s funeral. Everybody will be there.” Except her. “Except me.”

Laura closes her book to reach for her wine. Says without thinking, “You’re welcome to go. You’d just—“

“Quarantine when I got back, I know,” Bradley finishes. Laura’s jaw ticks. Another little rebellion. Bradley’s eyes flash with recognition. “I cut you off.”

“You were right this time.” Not to do it, but about what Laura would have said.

If Bradley goes to the funeral, then they won’t see each other for nearly three weeks. There’s the nearly two thousand miles from Montana to the other side of country. The day for the ceremony and another to help Hal clean up before Bradley turns around to drive all two thousand miles again. Then two weeks of quarantining. That’s only if Bradley doesn’t catch Covid from anyone out there.

“Three weeks,” Bradley voices. “It’s not forever. You know Emma and Sam could come over. Have some s’mores. Talk all about me when I’m not inside cutting the strawberries.” She says it like it’s an actual possibility. Like it could be a change of pace and not the first step in their death march.

What if Bradley gets sick? What if she can’t leave West Virginia again? What if her case is serious, and Laura can’t get to her without it literally killing them both?

But if Laura doesn’t let Bradley go, isn’t that another end in and of itself? They’ve barely been dating five months. Four if they count from when they became official instead of when they kissed in Iowa. And again in New York. In Bradley’s hotel.

Five months is too soon to restrict somebody’s movements. Not quite restrict; it’s not an act of control. It’s an act of consideration. A relationship is compromise and partnership. Five months is too short a time to ask for this kind of sacrifice. If Laura even asks, she’ll sound unreasonable. Desperate and delusional. What kind of partner would Laura be to ask Bradley to miss her own mother’s funeral?

So Laura takes a heavier sip from her wine. Drinks until she can’t breathe and the only thing on her tongue is the black cherry notes in her cabernet sauvignon.

Bradley looks mildly concerned, but below that, underneath the fire that she barely tamps down, she looks hopeful. Laura can’t snuff that out.

Her mouth’s dry as she tries not to croak, “It’s not forever.”

Bradley almost squeals. She flips her phone over instantly. “I’ll message Gayle. She can coordinate with Stella and Mia. I won’t tell Hal until it’s official. Don’t want to get his hopes up if I can’t get another day off. D'you think Alison will do it, or do we need to see who else is available?”

She talks without looking at Laura. It’s for the best. Laura keeps a smile on her face, and she nods along, but all she really hears is three weeks. You’re welcome to go. And Bradley’s squeal at the thought of leaving Laura here alone.

.

.

read chapter three

#bradleylaura #bradley x laura #laura x bradley #bradley jackson #laura peterson #tms #the morning show #fine #tms: s3 #fic: all the pieces

[alicent-vi-britannia]

Ohgi's insecurity and Lelouch's distrust explained through the enneagram.

I would like to one day produce a comprehensive and extensive analysis addressing the betrayal of the Black Knights since I manage a Code Geass Facebook page and have noticed that most of the Hispanic anime fans don’t understand why the Black Knights betrayed Lelouch . Even in the Anglo-Saxon fandom I have seen opinions from people who attribute this to an error within the narrative and it is not. The Black Knights' betrayal was a meticulously planned chain of events that led to that unique outcome. But what can we do? Most of the Code Geass fanbase are Lelouch fanboys who will automatically hate anyone who opposes him without first putting themselves in their shoes and analyzing the situation.

Although this publication won’t be the analysis that I have pending because I don’t have enough time to elaborate it and, in addition, I need to return to the anime to point out each of Lelouch's mistakes (I left it in chapter 10 of R1), I’m going to talk about two crucial issues that came together to give us the betrayal of episode 19 of R2 and that no one speaks or notices, not even those who did understand the movement of the Black Knights and those are the insecurity of Ohgi (who plays the role of Judas/Pedro) and the distrust of Lelouch (who would be our false Messiah). Don't worry if you think I'm being superficial. There is a lot of evidence throughout the episodes and this is something that I must return to when writing the analysis. This would be an appetizer that will help me when that time comes.

1. Ohgi 

The first time I saw Code Geass, it caught my attention that Lelouch commanded other terrorists to confront his sister and the subsequent visits I still didn't understand. Until I rewatched Chapter 6 and caught a glimpse of a detail that had previously been overlooked.

Context: After Cornelia decimates numerous rebel strongholds, including a large one called Samurai Blood, in search of Zero, Ohgi contacts him to update him and express his concerns. Lelouch tells him to calm down and emphasizes that they would refrain from taking any action for now. Without further ado, he hangs up on her and thinks about what you can see in the image (”Maybe I should cut ties with them”). Lelouch finds Ohgi's attitude annoying and considers breaking ties with his resistance cell since he is realizing that they are depending a lot on him (and Lelouch prefers to distance himself). Hence, in the next episode, he establishes a connection with other terrorists.

With this brief scene, Ohgi's eneatype is more than confirmed: he is a Enneatype Six. What I mean by this? That his problem isn’t that he lacks the skills and qualities as his haters claim. Otherwise, then, it wouldn’t make sense for Zero to assign him as Vice Commander (which is the second in command) to an incompetent. 

His problem is his great insecurity. I began to suspect that he was a Six when, after Tamaki tells him that things would have been better if he was in charge and leaves Ohgi alone, he wails with a photo of Kallen's brother telling him that he is not like him in the sense that he is a good leader. I mean, Ohgi is agreeing with Tamaki to a certain extent. (Of course, as if Tamaki knows what he's talking about, since he's an extremely competent guy in his field...) 

Hence, he has no problem giving up the position to Lelouch, whom he judges to be a better leader (in fact, he himself reminds Lelouch in R1 episode 10 that he asked him to become his leader). And this is the essential problem of the Six. The emotional wound of Sixes is precisely their lack of self-confidence and, since they can’t trust themselves, they cling like ticks to people they consider more capable than themselves and for the same reason they can turn against those people, because they can't trust others either and Ohgi never fully trusted Zero, even when the Black Knights' suspicions were allayed with Taizo Kiririhara's approval, Ohgi kept trying to find out more of Zero's secrets. That's why he took Villetta in episode 14 of R1. Not only was it a Good Samaritan act, but because she mentioned Zero's name and he figured she knew something about him (in fact, you can see he doesn't trust her at first either because he watches her through a camera system he set up in his own house).

In my opinion, I find it funny that this is his enneatype since then it would be another literal case. Sixes are the most contradictory personality type in the Enneagram. They are the most loyal personality and in turn is the most treacherous (I think we can all tell Ohgi with those traits).

Character arcs typically revolve around overcoming their injuries in order to bring out the version of themselves, and Ohgi is no exception: he has to learn to trust himself in order to be the leader the Order of the Black Knights need and, by extension, to be able to restore their homeland to its freedom.

“Ohgi, don't you trust me?”

2. Lelouch

“Live with me or die with me.”

This image is taken from R1 episode 10 just like the one before that. What happened here? I will refresh your memory.

Diethard learns from Villetta and Jeremiah that Cornelia's squad and Cornelia herself are going on a hike in the Narita Mountains. Diethard, who is no fool, soon adds two plus two and understands that the purpose of the journey is to find the headquarters of the Japan Liberation Front and annihilate it (I remind you that the Japan Liberation Front is the resistance group largest area of ​​Area 11 and Cornelia set herself the task of destroying all the rebel strongholds in this area). Diethard immediately passes this information to the Black Knights with a view to being recruited (since then the Black Knights were expanding their numbers). Lelouch, who is also very perceptive, interprets this as the opportunity he has been waiting for to question his sister about her mother's death. But does he tell the Black Knights that they are going to Narita to fight Cornelia's army? Absolutely! He literally tells them that they are going for a walk through Narita (Ohgi was able to get an idea of ​​the purpose of that walk since he read the information from Diethard and Kallen, in the same way could guess since she heard what Ohgi communicated to Zero, however, Zero didn’t share his plans with them).

"Even messiahs have to perform miracles to be recognized as such"

I remind you that by this point in the plot, Zero and the Black Knights had faced terrorists, corrupt politicians, abusive soldiers, abusive corporations, and criminal syndicates. That is, they hadn’t faced Britannia. This was to be his first battle (with all its warlike implications). So the Black Knights, who thought they had gone to train, found out that they were going to face Cornelia's army right there, just a few minutes after the confrontation took place. For added finishing touch, Zero leads his troops to a point where they are surrounded by Cornelia's Sutherlands (this is to cut off all escape routes for the Japan Liberation Front). In other words, he deliberately dragged them into a blind alley, taking advantage of their ignorance.

Are you understanding the circumstances surrounding this battle? It's cloudy!

"Since you joined the Black Knights, you have two choices: live with me or die with me." This on the surface sounds epic, but, at the same time, it's pretty fucked up: Zero/Lelouch isn't giving the Black Knights a chance. Either they fight alongside him to survive, or they die together.

Now then, why was Zero not straight with the Black Knights from the start? What was the need to hide information from them? This is a specific situation. However, if we evaluate other situations a posteriori, Zero/Lelouch always handled all of his affairs with great secrecy. Let's go further, how much did it cost you to reveal his identity? Or why he didn't tell them about the Geass? (You don't have to answer me, just think about the questions). I understand that he would hide from the rest of the world, but why from his men? Was he afraid that they would mistrust his intentions? Did he think they would refuse to work with a Britannian prince who has a magic eye? Did he imagine they were going to desert?

“Weaks?”

The truth is that we could think of a lot of answers in an attempt to find a logic behind Lelouch/Zero's actions. But all the answers show a serious problem between the lines: Lelouch doesn’t trust the Black Knights.

Why? What reasons have the Black Knights given for Lelouch to distrust them? If it is the opposite case, we can list facts and concrete data that show why the Black Knights don’t trust Zero/Lelouch. Not so with Zero/Lelouch. He has no well-founded reasons. These people were transparent with Zero from minute one: they explained his discomfort and what he had to do to make them trust him. (Should the Black Knights be grateful to Zero/Lelouch? No, Larry, it is Lelouch who should be grateful to them because, despite his doubts and the little trust that Lelouch placed in them, the Black Knights followed him and believed in him).

So where does this suspicion come from? It’s an internal problem for Lelouch derived from his childhood traumas.

For those who don't know, the Enneagram is a complex system of personalities that divides them mainly into nine types, based on the theory that our personalities began as coping strategies that we acquired as children to feel safe in the face of trauma and avoid pain and stress, so that our personality can function as armor to protect us from outside threats and that even today said armor dictates how we should react to situations and even how we interact with our fellow men.

Lelouch is an enneatype 8. People who fit this personality type at some point in their childhood felt that they were unprotected by their parents. As a result of this traumatic event, these people have a terrible fear of being hurt, controlled and dominated by others; because they internalized that it wasn’t good to be weak and that they had to be tough and strong to fight and survive. Consequently, these people built a shell to face the injustices of the horrible world and protect themselves from others. Hence, these people have a tendency to want to dominate situations and people. I came to read that 8 people aren’t good teammates because they are naturally suspicious and feel more comfortable being in control of situations because they fear and hate being subject to the will of others. Frankly, it doesn't surprise me after reading that they would rather control and use people than trust them. Does this ring a bell?

Sounds like Lelouch's Geass to me. We literally have a scene from Charles and little Lelouch in which the father tells him that he and Nunnally are to blame for his misfortun because being weak and, from that point on, if he didn't consider it a problem before, now he does (commercial: I analyzed the roots of Lelouch's trauma together with Suzaku through the enneagram, if this goes well I can upload my analysis here)

For me (and any good understanding of the Enneagram and who has seen Code Geass): Lelouch's Geass is the manifestation of his ego's unconscious behavior patterns and his unconscious fear. Remember that Geass works differently for each person.

Although Lelouch rejects the Britannian ideology openly, he unconsciously assimilated it very well and in situations like these his cognitive bias comes to light (oh, the contradictions! Human beings wouldn’t be human beings without contradictions). I mean, other people can be vulnerable and that's okay. Instead, Lelouch can't allow himself to be vulnerable because that wouldn't be right. (It's somewhat curious. 

(Code Geass is an apology for the Enneatype 8, since its protagonist is an average 8 who faces a system whose ideal model of citizen is an insane 8. This is because the healthy 8 understands that he must use his strength to protect the weak, which is what Lelouch says in his speech, while the insane 8 believes that he must crush the weak through force, which is what Charles says in his speech).

Trust is an act of vulnerability because you assume that the other person won’t hurt you and that you can be yourself. In this case, it is something literal since Lelouch would have to remove his mask. Therefore, it is an act of exposure (the people who managed to gain Lelouch's trust had to fight to earn it; C.C. only meddled in Lelouch's life and helped him with some things to show him that she was on his side, Kallen had to to find out the hard way that he was Zero and thus, only to Sayoko he willingly revealed that he was Zero).

In conclusion, Lelouch and Ohgi distrust each other for different reasons: Ohgi is insecure and Lelouch isn’t willing to trust others because for his unconscious it is a sign of vulnerability (deep down, he is afraid of being betrayed). And when there is no trust between two people, they act behind the other's back. There are lies, there are secrets, there are betrayals.

Lelouch paid dearly (and well deserved) for not having opened up to the Black Knights. If he had trusted them and been honest, he would have no reason to hide anything from them, he wouldn't make stupid mistakes and then chapter 19 would have been very different (Goldilocks' scheming would have had no effect), do you realize that? I feel like Lelouch learned from his mistakes because I think Lloyd, Cecile, Sayoko and Nina knew about the Zero Requiem (besides Suzaku, Jeremiah and C.C.).

How painful! 😭

Anyway, the fanboys would continue to insist that the Black Knights are the ones with the problem and they will defend the mistakes of their god Lelouch, even if you show them with irrefutable evidence that Lelouch is a human being who screwed up.

PS: just to limit. I don't like Ohgi and I love Lelouch. But that doesn't give me an excuse to blind myself to Lelouch's mistakes and understand Ohgi's motivations.

#code geass lelouch of the rebellion #code geass: hangyaku no lelouch #code geass #lelouch #lelouch vi britannia #lelouch lamperouge #ohgi

[rantsintechnicolor]

i did everything i could, less angry version

"You seem... that doesn't bother you?" he asked, leaning back to widen his view of her. The were sitting on opposite sides of a bench along a paved wooded path. It was sunny and warm. It always seemed to be warm when she was in town.

"Why should it bother me?" she looked sideways at him.

"Wow. It is like it never happened," he seemed awestruck.

"Are we having that conversation?" She straightened her posture and twisted her body to face him on the bench. He got the sense she was squaring herself for battle. "Are you going to make this count?" She looked at her arm, as though checking the time, though she didn't wear a watch. "Because this is the last time in 2022 we can talk about this."

"Uuuuhhhh, well..." he said.

"The least you could do was give me some lead time to mentally prepare and get a pint of emotional support ice cream. But it seems you didn't prepare for this. This should be fun." He felt her annoyance and withered beneath her sarcasm. He didn't like to feel withered, and maybe that was his male conditioning, to be competitive, to come out ahead. He sat with that feeling for a moment, knowing that inclination toward fight would be counterproductive.

"I do want to talk about it. We never see each other and I think we should talk about it in person."

She took a deep breath and sighed. "Why? It's only going to be bad news," she countered. And that was his first clue that maybe she was not quite over him. "I never want bad news in person, ever."

"What if it isn't?" he said.

Her back bent so she could rest her forearms on her knees. She folded her hands, gaze directed at the path. She took a deep breath. "It's never good news from you, unless it's good news for you. Congratulations on finding the woman you are going to have babies with, by the way."

"What?! Oh--" He had posted something cryptic about love and having a family recently on Facebook. He thought for a moment. "Okay. Uh. Can we please back up a bit? And I honestly don't know if she's--"

"Please. I can't hear the end of that sentence. For my purposes, you and she will be happy forever with hundreds of fat children."

He bent his head down and ran his hand over the back of his neck, mind exploding over the possibility of that many kids. Then he remember that it was a line from a TV show... and it fit perfectly with this moment, capturing her resentment and giving her feelings away... if he was right in assuming she identified with the character that said it. He snorted a laugh.

"Okay, okay." He took a breath. "So, how are you doing? How are you and your wife? Aaannndd aarrre you over me?"

She turned her head slowly to look at him and blinked several times. She blinked so hard it looked painful. When she took a breath, he realized that she had not been breathing.

"Hal," she paused and grumbled inaudibly while massaging the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "I did everything I could to get over you. I sought out and surrounded myself with quotes saying we're not meant to be. I steeped myself in the pain to feel it so that I could get to the other side of it. I repeated to myself again and again all your faults and I made you a monster so that I could move on. And while hope is perpetually, softly knocking on the door, I never answer it. Because I still think it could have worked out with us and the rest of the things we want in life.

"If you say the wrong thing to me, I could swing back to being in love with you. You need to know how dangerous it is for you to ask me this, because it seems like there is only one reason you would ask.

"So for now, for our purposes, I will keep repeating to myself that I am over you. And that will make it true."

He just sat there and blinked at her, speechless because he felt that withering again, that unworthiness, like he had made a terrible mistake in asking. Had he?

She stared back. "Okay. Maybe there's two reasons. Why did you ask?" she broke the silence. "Idle curiosity? If you brought it up for idle curiosity..." Her voice caught in her throat. She stood up. "I have to go."

"Wait-please-can we please talk about this a little more?" He reached out and caught her hand. She let him, though she could have pulled away. He looked up at her, his brown eyes liquid and golden in the sunlight. "Please," he said.

#love #romance #unrequited #creative writing #writing #fiction #short fiction

[breathenbounce]

THE GRATITUDE CHRONICLES: THE DOOR CRACKED OPEN

Hello there. This morning as I was scrolling through facebook, I found a post that hit me. It was from Megadeth frontman, founder, and legend Dave Mustaine. I read it and it hit me hard. Here it is....

I read this so many times. It made me think of my own trials and tribulations of my own life. Being cut off from my family growing up so many times. Feeling like I didn't belong. When I was younger, I was a very difficult kid, and I started to grow up and mature, and then I lost my mom at age 23. The dominoes fell back down. I was fortunate enough to see her one last time before I got that ill fated call that she collapsed and was in the hospital. She would fight on for about 10 days when she finally died. After that, my family for the most part stopped talking to me. They didn't like that my views were opposite of them. They didn't like that a person who was special to me was helping me to see a different side of the world and felt she was brain washing me. So they would cut me off. Over and over and over again.

I have never gotten over this as it has affected my current situation. I have been impossible to be around because of wounds I have suffered as a child and young adult. I let the wounds of that consume and I caused tremendous pain on someone I love very dearly. Those wounds bled into my current situation and I believe that along with some trauma caused my BPD.

I really felt the pain of Dave and his sister as I read this message. When families fall apart for things like this, its sad. Religion tore the Mustaines apart. Beliefs and thoughts tore my family apart. I think we all need to accept we are different. Different thoughts, different ideas, different ways to live life to the best we possibly can. The things that people forget are one, we don't get another shot at this. Once its over, its over. Two, we should find ways to respect beliefs and not hold judgment. Judgment is an absolute killer.

Sometimes families and spouses hurt each other. Maybe a little bit, maybe very badly. However if we can find ways to open our minds, find some forgiveness, and have fulfilling and honest conversations about things, we could all get closer and feel loved. However, everyone needs to come together. People have to learn how to empathize with their partners, parents, loved ones; they may have been dealing with some internal stuff. The key is no judgment.

It's better to find a way to fix things while alive and not on a death bed. Sure the ultimate gift you can give someone is while you are taking your last breath and freeing them from the pain that has caused, why not try to find a way to heal while alive? Find a way to have those tough conversations to find common ground.

I understand sometimes a situation is so toxic you have to walk away. However, if someone is wanting a chance to do the right thing, don't turn them away. They could be on the cusp of something beautiful and be a source of light and kindness in your life. I think about Dave's joy when his sister finally contacted him after 20 years. I also think about the devastation as the reconciliation would be the final time he saw her.

I know sometimes we have to take care of ourselves, but I also feel we can't rule anything out. We can open the door a little bit at a time. We must also remember sometimes people struggle. Whether it's addiction, mental illness, or just bullshit in general, we have to allow a little space and grace for growth. I'm not saying dive all the way in the pool, but keep the door open a little bit with a light on. Eventually that person will straighten things out and find that crack of light in the hallway.

But let's hope that both sides find each other before it's too late.

Namaste

M

#mindfullness #breathenbounce #gratitude #bpd #love #forgiveness #family #contrite

[imarawbu]

Making another one since the other one was so long.

Back to the changes and realizations I had. Maybe they are because I'm 25 now and my frontal lobe is developed and things are a little clearer. I don't see it as a "maturity thing" as people describe their periods of early 20s and teens as immature. I have always been more mature the problem was I was trying to make the best of bad situations and didn't have the tools or support, so I challenge anyone to do better than I did.

Back to the topic, a year, year and a half ago, I was excited for my daughter, excited for the house, wanted to get lots of nice decor and decorations for it so I could love the place I lived in instead of dreading it or hating it. Now, I don't care. Nice decor means more stuff my daughter can get into or destroy. I'd just be happy to live in this house on my own, who cares about liking what's inside.

Excited for my daughter and even thinking of when I'd have my next kid, that seeing my husband with my daughter would have him go above my expectations. Now, that idea is hilarious. I'd love to have another baby, experience the happiness and joy of a newborn but not with my husband who would somehow find a way to treat me even worse than he does now and find new ways to tell me every day that I'm a horrible mother and wife and a fat and lazy piece of shit. As I mentioned when she turned 7 months, I wish I had waited for kids, maybe my marriage would be better, I'd get more life experience, travel, and have actual time to enjoy life. There are so many days now that I wish I didn't have her, it's becoming more frequent. It's not her fault, I don't blame her and I know I would not regret having my daughter if my husband actually helped me and cared. She's definitely different than other kids, I think it's because of intelligence or her personality but shes more shy than she should be, more cautious that a toddler her age should be, at least to me it seems that way- or maybe what's happening at home, to me, is affecting her. I swore as a mother I'd never do what my mother did to me or put my kids though what my parents put me through, looks like I have already failed.

I realize that people my entire life have treated me like shit, even friends, especially people I wanted as friends. The last post is a great example. Everyone underestimates me, everyone thinks they can take advantage of me. I realized the closest people to me (parents, husbands) have always been abusive and that I've literally never been "loved" by a non abusive, normal person. That my pre-teenage self who decided and was pushed into not being able to trust people or make friends after going through severe abuse in a residential treatment center, was right. Friends are useless, people are useless, they do not act with clear intentions and I don't have the ability to maintain the relationship and get taken advantage of. It's better to just not have them, they are a liability.

I have also realized I don't care about much of anything anymore, all my motivations have gone, all of my desires have gone. I've even had little cities in my head (metaphorically speaking, I'm not hallucinating) say it's better to just not be alive anymore. Which really is true, especially in this day and age.

I also used to share this type of stuff during and after my first marriage, and post long stuff on Facebook and in groups, I used to argue with people and now I do it here (the long typed posts, not the arguing) because nobody cares. I did use an app for mental health stuff to try to do this stuff and have people respond but people just didn't respond after awhile. I'm not really writing so I have an audience but it's nice to know someone cares even if I don't actually want to talk with someone and just want to write. And that writing is actually useless but I keep doing it.

Lastly, I realized the shame and gossip that is going to come when this marriage comes apart publicly. Whether I say something ahead of time or after the divorce is done. The woman whose son I liked? She didn't initially like my husband as, yes, he had shown his real colors before, I married him because he said he'd changed and begged to marry me yada yada. She didn't believe it and told me this was my last chance, and she cared about me but she could do nothing if this failed again. Mind you, she was trying to get me to agree to consider seeing some nephew of hers back in her country during this time. Shed mentioned to me how if I messed this up and married the wrong person, it would be a world of shame for me. Later, she ended up really liking my husband as everyone thinks we have a perfect marriage but anyways. I live better than my friends, most of my friends are older than me by the way, I'm definitely living better than people my age. People are jealous obviously. I know people aren't going to believe me when I say I didn't do anything, I know people are going to enjoy that I'm now twice divorced since I lived such a luxury life and gave it up to be divorced again. That I will definitely have a "reputation" and now a significant number of people where I live will know because my husband has a lot of influence in the Muslim community here. Maybe even my ex's family would find out. Lol my parents will definitely blame me. If I had posted on my private story about my marriage, who knows the carnage that would have happened today or soon once people found out.

[ozma914]

movie review: The Flash

Emily and I decided to get The Flash on demand--which cost less than going to the theater, although I do love action movies on the big screen. As it turns out, maybe that was for the best.

One of the complaints I've heard about The Flash was that the CGI quality was bad. I did notice it a few times, but overall it didn't take me out of the story at all. Maybe that was seeing it on the small screen, or maybe it was because I grew up at a time when special effects were limited to miniature models and animation.

 The other complaint is that the star, Ezra Miller, is a violent felon. That's kind of a big deal, and if it's true they should be in prison, or possible a secure mental institution, if those exist any more. I don't have a whole lot of sympathy for that kind of person.

But from a standpoint of the movie, I don't care.

Hollywood is full of terrible people. I'll bet most entertainment projects have at least one person who others should be protected from. I'm surprised when a celebrity turns out not to have skeletons in their proverbial closet. This is becoming more obvious with each passing year.

But I like a movie or I don't, and I loved The Flash. Not only that, but Miller did a great acting job, something I didn't expect in a superhero flick. The entire plot is driven by one tragedy in Barry Allen's past, and Miller gives a performance that could bring a tear to your eye.

 Which just goes to show, having talent is only part of what a person is.

I like strong characters, great dialogue, and a nice dose of humor. The Flash also hit on something more specific: I love time travel stories, crossovers, and tales involving a multiverse, the latter being why the Oscars and I finally agreed last year.

The movie starts when Barry Allen/Flash accidentally discovers he can time travel. Despite a warning about the dangers--from Batman, no less, who explains their losses are part of who they are--Barry latches onto the idea that he can save his mother, who died when he was a kid.

He plans his actions carefully, to make the least impact on the timeline and, of course, everything goes horribly wrong. A Big Bad from a previous DC movie shows up, but Superman doesn't exist to defeat him, this time; there don't seem to be any superheroes on this Earth. Barry finds himself trying to save a world that isn't his, anymore.

Other heroes eventually emerge, of course, and one of the joys of The Flash is seeing him and his new allies interacting. (If you've watched the previews, you know who they are.) There are also numerous cameos by other heroes, something I'm sure many people hated that gave me great joy. In the context of the story it makes sense, or at least as much sense movies about costumed meta-humans ever do.

There's also an after-credits scene that throws Barry's normal world on its side, and would beg explanation--if there was to be a sequel. I think it's safe to assume the next Flash will be a different actor in a rebooted universe, so there's no use pondering that.

So yes, we loved The Flash. I think# most people, if they can see around the behind-the-scenes trouble, would too. Then again, some people hate superhero movies no matter how good they are, and if any of those people have read this far, I can only ask: why?

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Remember: If you don't like movies, there are always--books.

#movie #movies #movie review #Movie Reviews #the flash #flash #dc #dc comics #dc universe #superheroes #ezra miller

[empressofthesunwriter]

The Stick of Truth

Codename: Dovahkiin Part 1!

N.K. is angry at her parents. Not only did they move again, no, but they moved into a snowy hicktown named South Park! She was sure she would hate it there, yet surprisingly she gets to participate in the epic RPG the kids play and falls for the human princess and the elf king. Who is friend, who is foe and which side should she choose?

Main Pairing: New Kid/Kenny McCormick/Kyle Broflovski

Chapter 4: Quests, quests everywhere!

I regret telling Leo to explore the town.

Somehow we get robbed into doing a lot of shit for a lot of people.

I don’t know why I can’t seem to just say no, but Leo means doing these “Quests” for the people of South Park will help in our RPG.

Well, it’s true if I finish a quest for someone I get a new Facebook friend, which in turn, if I have a certain amount, I can get a new Power Up like my PP gets higher and sometimes a new weapon, but I also can just speak to people and get so a Facebook friend.

Like it goes mostly in my life.

Never know and probably I will never know how I manage that. It was always like this. I collected followers like some people collect Steves for their evil plans.

Anyway will doing this shit tone of quests a meet a lot of…well interesting people.

That guy who hides behind a tree at the cinema is Al Gore, an ex-vice president of the United States, who likes to say cereal and is obsessed with something called ManBearPig.

I honestly only help him put this sensor around town because I wanna know what this ManBearPig is.

Never heard of it.

And I heard a lot of crazy shit while moving from state to state, city to city.

Then we meet at the playground some cute kindergarten kids who wanna play hide and seek with me. So we also have to look for them while running around town doing this and that.

Funny is no one here has their front doors locked. You can just walk in and rob….erm I mean borrow their stuff.

Maybe I should have picked thief since I have way too much fun exploring any house and grabbing what can help us in our LARPing. Good thing Leo doesn’t seem to mind.

I should be better than this but nah. I’m enjoying myself way too much.

Next up, after finding the first kindergarten child, we enter the house of a gay man in a leather outfit and I kid you not his name is Mister Slave.

I’m getting a feeling South Park is full of awful puns and references of that kind.

Mister Slave asks me to pick up a package for him at the Post, so Leo and I make our way there.

The street where the Post is locked is full of shops. Leo referred to it as the marketplace.

It’s kind of funny when we enter the bank and then the post that Leo goes all robber/kidnapper and then greets the people friendly.

I don’t know why he does that, but I won’t stop him.

After we pick up Mister Slaves’ package, which is surely not a Dildo, what drugs are you on, I decide we finished exploring, putting the sensors up, and finding the other kindergarten kids before we return to Mister Slave.

We have found a kindergarten child in the bank and one down in the sewers. I’m still impressed with myself that I had the stomach to go down there.

When we reach City Hall I see something which instantly makes me angry.

Three bitches my age are bullying a little blond fourth-grade girl.

They throw at each other the little girls Justin Bieber toy, taunting her.

“Give it back! Give it back!”, pleads the little girl.

Bitch with the red cap just snarks: “Why don't you make us?”

“That's MY Justin Bieber toy!”

“Not anymore, it's not!”, says Bitch in a grey hoodie.

I had wordless Leo my staff and literally fly myself over the three bitches. Bitch with a cap gets a fist slammed in her face, Bitch in a grey hoodie I kick in the stomach, and the fat bitch I slap her so hard in the face that she falls down.

I take the Justin Bieber toy and kick for good measure each of the bitches in their stomach.

“Leave this girl alone and never ever bully someone or next time I turn you three into Shish Kebab!”, I growl at them.

Scarred and crying they stand up and run away.

Good.

I turn to the little girl.

“Here you go, sweetie.”

I hand her the Justin Bieber doll.

“Oh, I hope they didn't break it.”, she mumbles and pulls the cord of the doll. It’s starting to vibrate…why is my head immediately in the gutter? The girl is 10, she doesn’t surely use it as I think in my perverted mind!

“Oh, whew. Hey, thanks ... I owe you one girl.”

“It’s whatever.”

As a reward, I get a new Facebook friend and learn her name is Annie.

…Blond…

…Short…

…Name Annie…

Sie sind das Essen und wir sind die Jaeger!

Sorry, couldn’t help myself.

I love Attack on Titan, even if the ending was worse than the Game of Thrones one.

After saying goodbye to Annie we meet in City Hall the mayor of the town Ms. McDaniels and she wants me that I beat up homeless people so South Park can appear again as a compassionate community.

Who sees the fault in that logic?

I agree, but I’m not sure I will do this.

I mean if the hobos attack me I will protect myself, but I won’t actively search for them to beat them up.

I’m not that heartless.

Anyway, we meet the then local preacher man of South Park Priest Maxi and he wants me to find Jesus.

I’m confused.

And I tell so Leo as we look around the Police Station.

“Oh well, Jesus lives here, he even has his own TV show.”, explains Leo to me.

I blink as I free Romper Stomper from his prison cell and earn him as a Facebook friend.

“…What?”

“Yeah, he is pretty cool. Maybe he is at his house.”

“You are telling me, my lord and savior, Jesus Christ, who died for humanity’s sins is under as and lives here in South Park?!”

Leo can’t even look that fast as I practically race to the church.

My gut is telling me I will find him there.

When I enter the church I can hear a soft giggle. I follow the sound to one of the benches and there he is.

Jesus Christ.

Alive, in the flesh.

“You found me! Tee hee hee! Next time finding me won't be so easy!”, he tells me.

Before I can talk to him or bow down he disappears!

With an open mouth, I stare at where he stood.

“N.K. are you okay?”

Leo finally reached me and looks at me worried.

I feel tears in my eyes.

“I couldn’t even talk to him…”, I mumbled sadly, walking out of the church.

After a second Leo follows me confused.

We return to Priest Maxi.

“I found him, Father, but I lost him at the same moment.”, I admit sadly.

“Do not despair, for many find Jesus only to lose Him later.”, preaches Priest Maxi. “But the soul that does not abandon its search will surely be rewarded with His company. Remember that.”

Oh well in that case, back to church then.

Again I hear the giggle, just this time Jesus is nowhere hiding by the benches.

It takes Leo and me some time to figure out how we need to switch the lights off and the lamps under the cross have to shine on it. Jesus silhouette appears on the cross and I find him hiding behind the Preacher Desk.

“Well done, my daughter!”, he congratulates me. “I hope you didn't peek! Remember, I will always be at the side of those who have found me. You can call me once per day with this. But I can't help against bosses. They're scary. Come find me again for another.”

He hands me a pretty rosary which I clutch to my chest.

“Thank you, my lord and savior. I will hold this rosary in the highest regards. I just have one question.”, I nearly whisper since I’m so nervous.

“Ask and you shall get your answers, my daughter.”, he encourages me with a soft smile.

“You probably know I’m bi. Our bible is pretty much against LGBTQ+ people. I just wanna know…do you still love me and do I have a chance to get to heaven?”

“My daughter, a lot of people have wondered what my stance on homosexuality is. So I'd like to state once and for all, my true opinion. You see-“

“Well this was certainly a lot of walking.”, sums Leo up as we finally make our way to Kupa Keep.

I nod, while checking all my Facebook followers. All these quests we did earned me a lot of new followers and I could unlock a lot of cool power-ups.

Smiling I remember little adorable Karen, the fair princess sister, who told me to protect her sister, even if she can handle herself.

Also that Kenny texted her that she thinks I’m pretty cute is amazing.

All in all, I’m really satisfied and glad we did all this.

Still, I’m happy we concreted now on the main quest.

As we enter Kupa Keep Leo calls out: “All soldiers reporting for duty, Grand Wizard!”

With a flirty smirk, I walk up to Princess Kenny.

“Your Highness, it’s a gift from the gods been again in your presence.”, I purr.

Princess Kenny gasps and looks me up and down. I can practically feel how she ogles my breasts. A warm shiver goes down my back this reaction is stroking my ego a lot.

I feel so pretty and powerful now.

“You make an amazing Link, noble mage. 10 out of 10.”, she compliments, taking my hand and making me do a twirl. She looks right at my ass. “I can’t stop looking at you.”

I turn my head and wink.

“You can look as much as you want my dear princess.”

Before we can flirt more Lord Fatty steps out of his war tent to check on his army.

With a sign, we both stand in line with the others.

Damn it, it was going so well right now.

“Nice work, Douchebag.”, praises me Cartman.

I do a little bow.

“Leo…erm Butters helped too. It was a team effort. Thank you, my king.”

“Now all my men are here and ready to fight for the - wait a minute, where is Feldspar? Where's my level twelve thief?”

Ups, there was this.

“Erm yes, Craig wasn’t home.”, I explain lamely.

“He's in detention.”, adds Token.

“What?!”

“He flipped off the principal, so he's in detention again.”, tells him Tweek.

“Oh my God...”

King Large Ass seems done with life. Princess Kenny and I side-eye each other and giggle quietly at his despair.

“If they've locked away our thief in detention we have no hope of getting back the Stick of Truth. We have to break him out!”, decides Cartman.

“Agh! No way, man, last time we broke Craig out of detention we ALL got in trouble!”, screams Tweek and pulls at his hair.

“Getting into trouble is a risk that Douchebag is willing to take!-“

“-What the fuck, man!”, I yell in between. “I’m not doing it! I even haven’t started school yet, no way I will risk making a bad impression already!”

Also, my parents would be angry at me if I don’t behave at school and bring a bad report card home.

Lord Cheesypops grips me by the arm and leads me away a bit.

“Douchbag, douchbag, douchbag-“

“-Will you stop calling me that my name is N.K.!-“

“-You are the only one I trust with this mission. But don't worry, I will not let you go unprepared. I am going to teach you how to use magic. Meet me at the training barracks. It's time for you to learn 'Dragonshout.'”

Okay, I’m curious.

“What is Dragonshout?”

“For that to learn you have to agree to bust out Feldspar.”, this evil genius sings-songs.

Dammit, he knows one of my weak points.

Getting cool and new powers.

I sign.

I’m doomed.

“All right.”

“Good boy.”

With that, I follow Cartman to the training barracks.

#southparkfanfiction #southpark #new kid sp #dovahkiin #stick of truth #SP FanFic: Codename: Dovahkiin Part 1 #douchbag #kenny mccormick #kyle broflovski #k2 #polyamarous

[nickgerlich]

In The Weeds

Happy Sunday, everyone! Today concludes five weeks of the Spring 2023 semester. Marketing, for all its warts and pimples, is probably the easiest topical area in the College of Business to find things to talk about. That’s because it’s going on each and every day. In second place I would put Economics, because the economy. I think you get that, too. The other topics are all important, but their appearances in the news are usually just tied to earnings calls and management problems. 



I wouldn’t be able to write every day in those fields. So thank you, Marketing. You make my job all too easy. 



Sunday is also the day that I allow for wandering off into the weeds a bit, with topics that stretch the imagination and at first may make my students wonder exactly what is the connection to our course. Today’s is no different in that regard, but when you think about the topic I’m going to present, I think you will see very clearly how all of this ties in to Digital Marketing. Actually, Captain Obvious would raise his hand in a New York second. This one is that easy, but at the same time gives us reason to ponder the significance.



I hearken back to 2002 when Tom Cruise starred in Minority Report. Tom did not know this, but this film was made pretty much in the middle between his stints as a fighter pilot. Maybe we should just call him Maverick and be done with it.

Sorry. I drifted a little too far off into the weeds.



We all know how advertising has entered the digital arena. Heck, we just looked at Amazon Ads yesterday, and recalled how Google and Facebook became advertising companies. A few days ago, we looked at livestream shopping, yet another application.

But the digital arena is a far bigger stadium than just what we see on our phones, tablets, and laptops. It’s easy to say that all of those devices are the unreal world, which leaves behind every other thing we do in public, in offices, and at home.

What if digital marketing reached beyond those devices and into our everyday life? What if everything we saw and heard were a carefully curated experience based on—who else?—you? The audience of one concept is already established on our electronic devices, but imagine a world in which you were recognized while walking or driving, and marketing messages appeared out of nowhere aimed specifically at you?

Yeah. This sounds a lot like Minority Report when our star strolls through a shopping mall. He is greeted by name; he is beckoned come hither to peruse and spend. And all because of ubiquitous cameras that can recognize faces. It’s almost like I need to use this film at the start of the semester instead of that old grainy A.D. 1999 I have been using for a long time.

Turns out it has been happening for a few years already in somewhat limited form, but today is really taking off. And it has privacy advocates in an uproar.

I have long argued that Google and Apple Maps could do a much better job serving up shopping and dining destinations on our phones, based on our location and proximity to such destinations. But what if there were cameras attached to digital billboards, those sometimes-annoying yet always changing screens we are seeing alongside the freeway and city streets?



Yeah once more. Continuous improvements in cameras and software have made it possible to recognize people coming along, to the point of discerning age range, gender, and even race, as well as number of occupants in a car.



It’s far from perfect or up to Minority Report, but even with limited demographic information, highly targeted ads could be deployed. I can only imagine a fictional conversation back at some corporate headquarters: “Hey, here comes a mature male traveling alone. I bet he could use a beer!”

At which point I would say, “Where?”

|While they may not be able recognize me just yet—unless they can read my front license plate and tap into Texas’ DMV—I can see that day coming. We are approaching it with Amazon’s Just Walk Out technology, although that is more app-recognition than facial. For now.

Of course, this is all allowable because in the US, there is little if any expectation of privacy. This would meet significant resistance in Europe, where the GDPR—General Data Protection Regulation—provides far more personal protection than we have in the US. In fact, the GDPR is what caused websites to have that annoying pop-up asking us if we accept cookies. I’m not sure whether to say “Way to go” or “Thank you very much.”

I’m good with it, though, because I want my life to be ever more curated. It keeps making my life easier, from the music and shows I stream, the books I read, the foods I eat. It allows me to cut to the chase, and if in the process of these exchanges I have allowed them to look far behind the curtain that might otherwise shield me from others, I’m good. It’s on me. It’s the price of living in the 21C. I’m just not sure how it will all work for those who despise all this, though.



In any regard, it is coming soon to the US, unless new laws were enacted similar to GDPR. The day is coming soon when we will be recognized not just as a mature white male driving on I-40, but me. Yours truly. And you truly.

Because digital marketing is not limited to just the devices we own. It has now spread its tentacles to the entire public sphere. And just like Tom Cruise, we will here marketing messages designed for us. There’s that audience of one thing again, but now in the whole wide world. Or in the weeds.



Your call. Happy Sunday, y’all.

Dr “Waiting For That Beer Call On The 40“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

#marketing #digital #advertising #billboards #MinorityReport