#today i got to give him some oreos that i picked up at another event

[fuwaprince]

I got TWO nice run up and spinny hugs from professor groovy today and I feel so happy 💖 he also gave me a little diamond and told me I warmed his soul. I'm putting the diamond next to the shiny pencil he gifted me

#it's a tiny little pink diamond! #somewhere i still have the fsceless penny he gave me too #he's like a little crow that gifts me shiny things #i hope he's somewhere warm and safe tonight #and that study hours are over #today i got to give him some oreos that i picked up at another event #babbling

[bbyboibinnie]

comfort zone

synopsis: all your life you’ve tried your best to maintain a regular routine and comfortable life. during your last year as a senior though, everything changed and suddenly you were pushed out of your comfort zone. pairing: bang chan x fem!reader genre: high school au, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, romance, little cliche but you gotta have some cliche stories in your life sometimes warning: mild swears wc: 11.8k a/n: this has not yet been proofread so my apologies for any errors! hope you enjoy nonetheless!

The hand on the clock was ticking excruciatingly slow. You’d been eyeing it for the last 10 minutes, trying to count down the time before math would finally wrap up and you could speed your way towards the cafeteria before everyone else began to flood in. It’s been like this for the last three, ongoing four years. You and your small group of friends had managed to secure a table in freshman year and that had been the hang out spot every day during the forty minute lunch period, which was frankly way too short. On most days, you spent half of those forty minutes waiting in line for the overpriced food that was barely considered edible. 

Nonetheless, right as the bell rang you were already out your seat and past the door. Other students were scrambling into the cafeteria and you picked up the pace to reach the line. You were squished between the person in front and behind you and if it weren’t for the massive backpacks acting as barriers, you’d be disgusted by the close contact. 

“I was wondering what took you so long.” Seungmin noted as you reached the wooden bench. 

“I know, it took even longer than usual to get this plate of god-knows-what,” you poked at the crusty pile of what looked to be pasta on your plate. “Those idiots kept cutting and of course the principle who stood there didn’t bat an eyelash as it happened right under his nose.” 

Seungmin shook his head and popped open the bag of chips he got from the vending machine. “The joys of high school right?” 

“Thank gosh this is our last year here.” 

“Amen to that.” You clinked your juice box with his and munched on the mediocre pasta, joining in on the card game the others had started. 

“Oh I forgot, we have that rally thing today don’t we?” Your other friend—Lia—brought up. 

“What rally?” You put down a queen and relished in victory as the others reshuffled the deck. 

“The one for the football players or something right? We’ve been going to this school for the last three years and we don’t even know.” What Lia said was very true. Before you had started high school, your parents and basically every adult you talked to said to ‘make the most out of your high school years’ and ‘get the full experience.’ Frankly, you just had your head set on getting that diploma at this point because after a while, everything has just felt more draining and repetitive, including today’s rally. 

“I guess there will be less class time then.” You shrugged, reaching out to grab the cards and continue the next round.

———

“I don’t get it.” 

“Don’t get what?” Seungmin said, turning to face you. 

“Why football is so hyped at our school. I mean at other schools I get it because they actually win, but haven’t we just been losing all season?” The rally had been going on for over half an hour and another yawn escaped your lips. 

“Yeah, I’ve been to every game and the best we got was a tie. Anyways, there’s only a handful of games left before this season ends. You should come.” 

“And remind me why I should?” The two hosts of the rally were trying to hype the crowd up and you had to stifle laughter as the person in the mascot costume came out from behind the bleachers. Did they ever wash that costume? It must’ve reeked of sweat in that thing; yoed at the thought.

“Because you’ve never gone before? I know sports isn’t really your thing, or any after school activity for that matter, but it’s high school. You gotta experience it at least once.” Seungmin reasoned, pulling at your arm. 

“I mean, you said they’ve been losing. I’m not going to pay and spend like two hours watching our school lose for the nth time.” The person in the costume was making rounds around the field now, starting a wave with the crowd. 

“Okay, what if I pay for your ticket then?” 

“But those two hours of of precious time will be wasted—“

“They have snacks there. Popcorn, churros, corn dogs, and your favorite and mine—fried oreos.” Events always sounded more appealing when food was involved, but you were hesitant. “C’mon please y/n? For me?” Seungmin was doing those puppy eyes with the pout to your dismay. Out of all the years you’ve known him, you could never turn him down whenever he gave you that look. 

“Fine! But you’re paying for the food too.” 

“Deal.” 

————

Seungmin had arrived at your house at six thirty on the dot and you slipped on your shoes before shouting to your parents that you were leaving. When you had told them that you were going out, especially to attend the football game, they had been surprised then elated. Your parents were the kind that always tried to encourage you to get out of your comfort zone and enjoy new things, and considering you were a major homebody, this was a pretty big step out the bubble of comfort if you had to say so yourself.

“Wow I’m impressed, you even wore the school colors.” He said as you got in the car, eyeing your outfit. 

“I mean if I’m going, might as well go all out right?” You ended up wearing the school hoodie with a white pleated skirt, the best part were the streaks of eyeshadow—red and gold—you had on your cheeks (no face paint because you didn’t have any on hand). 

“Exactly, now let’s go, I want to be there early so we get good seats.” He stepped on the gas and you were on your way back to school, something you’d never thought you do after hours. 

“Y/n pick it up, I can see a spot in the front row but someone else is gonna to snatch it if you keep you with that snail pace.” He looked back at you from atop the stairs of the bleachers. 

“Well it’s not my fault you won’t help me carry all of this food!” You gave him an exasperated look as you tried to balance the drinks, snacks, and napkins all in your hand. 

“Listen, I bought it so you do the heavy lifting and labor alright? Now let’s go.” He pulled on your arm and the corn dog nearly slipped out your hand as you tried to keep up with Seungmin. 

You gave out an annoyed huff as you sat down, right in the front row just like how Seungmin wanted. The feeling of the cool metal bleacher sent a chill up your spine and the bitter autumn wind wasn't helping ease the cold. You were starting to regret wearing that skirt. 

“We’re here, happy? Now take your food before I eat it all myself.” You rolled your eyes and handed him his share of the food while he excitedly starred off towards the field. The players were warming up and the opponents were off to the side, huddled with their coach. 

You looked back at the people in the stands and the seats were packed. To be honest, you were just shocked that this many people showed up to watch even though the team had a losing streak. There were adults, schoolmates, little kids, and —someone even brought their dog. It seemed like everyone was eager for the game to start and although this wasn’t something you ever thought you’d do on a Friday night, you were one of the eagerly anticipating spectators in the stands too. 

From beside you, Seungmin kept looking around the field, as if he were looking for something. You were puzzled at this but didn’t bother questioning him because wow, the fried oreos were delicious. 

“Aye Chan!” Your friend shouted; he was sitting so close that it felt like he had screamed directly into your year. His loud voice managed to catch the attention of one of the players on the field as the boy with the number 97 on his jersey turned around and jogged towards where you and Seungmin were seated. 

“Seungmin, you made it today!” The boy reached out over the fence that separated the crowd from the field to greet Seungmin and you were both confused and surprised at the sight. Seungmin knew one of the football players? Not just one of them but the football player Chan? Team captain Chan? You were with Seungmin five days a week at school and it had never occurred to you that he knew anyone on the team, much less the captain.

“Why are you so surprised? I come to every game.” He was leaning on the fence as he talked to Chan. 

“Did you come alone again?” You tried not to eavesdrop but it was impossible when they were speaking directly in front of you. 

“Nah, I actually convinced a friend of mine to come with me today for once. Y/n!” He shouted your name which made you look up in shock while in the midst of stuffing your face with fried food. Seungmin shook his head and grimaced at the sight. “Sorry, she usually isn’t this uncollected.” 

You gave a slight wave towards the two and swiped the crumbs off your cheeks. This was so embarrassing, Seungmin was going to get an earful from you after this. 

“Nice to meet you!” Chan shouted, smiling at your direction. You nodded and awkwardly tried to return the smile before giving up and going back to all the fried goodness that the snack stand had to offer. 

They probably talked for another ten minutes before Chan jogged off to join his teammates and  Seungmin came back to his seat where you immediately proceeded to throw questions at him. 

“You know Bang Chan? How do you know him?” 

“Yes, I do know him and we’ve known each other fo—“

“I’ve been your friend for so long, how come I didn’t know you were friends with the captain of the football team?!” 

“Well, I do have other friends outside of our friendship grou—“

“Wait, I’m still your best friend though right?”

“Oh my god, y/n yes. We have been friends since elementary and nothing changes tha—“

“Seungmin, answer my questions!” 

“I’m trying but you keep cutting me off.” He said which shut you right up. “Anyways, yes I know Chan. His mom and my mom are super close so we just started hanging out when our parents were together, that’s why you never saw me with him at school. And you’re my best friend and will continue to hold that title. No football player is going to take that title away from you.” You smiled in relief at the last part. 

“Is that why you go to all their games?”

“Well yes, but I also genuinely enjoy the atmosphere of these events.” 

“Ahh, as expected from the extrovert himself. I’m truly amazed how we’re best friends.” This thought had come to your mind on numerous occasions. Seungmin had that happy-go-lucky type of personality, always smiling and being the social butterfly while you were on the quieter, more pessimistic end of the scale. If it weren’t for the fact that you guys were assigned seats next to each other in the third grade, you don’t know if you two would’ve ever crossed paths otherwise. You’d have to thank your third grade teacher someday for doing you a massive favor with that seating chart. 

“They say opposites attract y’know?” Seungmin threw an arm over your shoulder and annoyingly ruffled your hair—you felt like he was an older brother you never had sometimes. You swatted his hands away and tried to fix your hair. 

“Can you stop doing that? You know I actually tried putting effort into my hair today righ—“ 

“Y/n shut up, the game is about to begin.” He shushed you as the band began to play and you begrudgingly stopped talking.

After the dramatic applause and cheers died down, the teams got into position and soon enough the game had started. You had never actually seen a game before, only seeing snippets of them in television dramas or in books, so you didn’t understand the penalties or all the ins and outs. Regardless, you watched silently for the most part and clapped when others did. 

It was halftime and the scores were not looking so hot. You had finished your drinks and snacks long before and was starting to wish you’d stay home because this game was turning out to be another bust—-as you had expected. 

“Seungmin, I’m getting bored. I tried being optimistic and hoped for a win but we are down by so many points.” You pouted as you looked at the scoreboard—five to twelve. 

“Aw c’mon y/n, it’s only half way through. Anything could happen in the other half.” He made a good point but it was not making you have any more hope than before. “Hey, why don’t you try cheering for them in the next half? Maybe if we cheer louder and give them even more support, they’ll do better. I gotta say, your half hearted clapping is not very effective.” You playfully elbowed him in the stomach for that remark. 

“If you say so, but if I scream at the top of my lungs and they still end up losing, I’m never going to another one of these games.” 

————

The game had continued on after the short half time break and it seemed like your school was finally gaining points. It was neck and neck and everyone was on the edge of their seats by the time the last quarter of the game rolled around. 

You had been so enticed with the game that you didn’t realize how late it was getting. You had arrived at six thirty and it was almost reaching the two hour mark. The sun had completely set by now and the field was being illuminated by the massive lights and whatever little light the stars and the moon  in the sky were giving off. 

“Not going to lie, we are doing better than I had expected.” Seungmin commented during the break session in between the quarters.

“Really? Are you telling me this is the team on a good day then?” You asked incredulously. The scores were so close but the opponents were still leading by a few. 

“Sadly, yes this is a good day for us. Let’s just give it our all with the cheers for the last round and hope they win.” And almost as if on cue, the whistle blew and the players were back in their positions. 

“Wooo!! C’mon guys!” You hollered as loud as you could. Then the ball was tossed and the clock was counting down the final quarter. 

——— 

“YES CHAN! C’MON YOU GOT THIS!” You and Seungmin weren’t even sitting anymore, you had gathered near the fence and your eyes followed as number 97 was speeding down the field. 

“Oh my god.” Your eyes were getting dry and you felt the need to blink but you forced yourself not to because you didn't want to miss this moment. 

“Holy shi—.” You heard Seungmin barely whisper from under his breath. Heads were turned as everyone watched Chan pass the goal and into the end field right as the clock reached zero.

Before you knew it, the audience around you had erupted into laughter, applaud, cheers, and everything in between. Meanwhile, the football players had circled on the field and were all congratulating one another. 

“Did we just win?” You looked at Seungmin and he turned to you with a gaping mouth, nodded rapidly. 

“You just witnessed the first win of the season!” The two of two started jumping up and down like little kids, smiling and shouting excessively. 

“My throat is so dry from all that screaming, but it paid off.” You smiled and felt light headed, unsure if it was because you were overjoyed or because of all the screaming and dehydration, probably all of the above. 

“Let’s go find Chan and congratulate him!” Seungmin grabbed your arm and pulled you down the steps of the bleachers, past the track and onto the grass. You spotted him from a few feet away but the two of you waited for the crowd to disperse a bit before reaching him. 

“You finally did it man! First win of the season!” Seungmin gave Chan one of those ‘bro-hugs’ and you stood back a bit to give them their space. Chan was just a friend of a friend so you felt awkward approaching him, but still you said your congratulations to him.

“Seungmin said it was your first time coming to one of our games right? Quite a show we put in tonight for you then.” He looked past Seungmin and directed the conversation at you, smiling like he had earlier. You didn’t notice this the first time but he had a dimple on one of his cheeks. His brown hair was tousled in every direction from wearing the helmet and the fringes of his bangs were matted to his forehead with sweat, undoubtedly you still thought he looked quite cute.

 “Yeah, I don’t know anything about football but I think you guys were great tonight!” You said, trying to project your voice so that he could hear you amongst all the other chatter and commotion. 

“She thought you guys were going to lose.” Seungmin noted, making you glare in his direction, silently telling him to shut up. Chan just laughed at the response, which made his smile grow wider. 

“It’s okay, I know we usually don’t do so hot. I’m glad you guys could come and watch us succeed today though. What a relief I exceeded your expectations then.” You smiled and awkwardly chuckled in response, feeling guilty now that you’ve been exposed by Seungmin for being a pessimist. 

“Well it was great seeing you again man, you gotta come over soon. My mom keeps asking where you are these days.” Chan turned back to Seungmin and they exchanged some more words before he focused back on you. “Also, thanks for coming tonight y/n to watch the game, and for accompanying my friend here, he usually goes solo and I pity him sometimes seeing him in the stands alone. Hopefully you’ll come back for our next game.” Honestly you had no plans to, but looking at Chan with his dimple, warm eyes and being convinced by his charming words, you felt like the urge to clear your schedule for it. 

————-

“What do you mean you’re not coming?!” Seungmin spun around in your desk chair and rolled towards your bed where you sat, surrounded by an innumerable amount of paper and textbooks. 

“It means I’m not coming, what words are you not understanding?” You replied without looking up, flipping to the next page in your calculus book. 

“But why not?” He was starting to sound like a whiny toddler and you were already getting frustrated with trying to solve this stupid math equation. 

“Seungmin,” you said firmly, looking at him in the eyes, “why can’t you just find someone else to go with? Can't you see I’m busy? This project isn’t going to finish itself.” You gestured towards the loads of work scattered everywhere. “Go ask Lia or something.”

“No, the last time I tried to bring her along she just kept talking about how pretty she would’ve been as a cheerleader and started to sulk over the fact that she didn’t make the squad. Anyways, you missed last week’s game too! Plus, you had so much fun the first time around.” Seungmin whined, saddened by your blatant, harsh rejection. 

“Right, but like I said I have to get this done. You know I’ll prioritize school work over a sports event any day. Plus, that was a one time thing. I just went for the experience. And now that I’ve experienced it, I can check it off my high school bucket list and move on.” Your focus ripped away from your friend and back to your notebook which was filled with scribbled and incorrect math solutions. You’d been working on this project for what seemed like an eternity and the light at the end of the tunnel was not showing itself. You wanted to scream in frustration. 

“Please come, it’s so much better with you there! Whenever I go alone I feel so… alone.” He watched as you crumpled up another piece of paper and threw at the trash, completely missing. “Plus, take it as a break from all your hard work and studies. You’re clearly stressed and need to unwind, treat yourself!” You eyed him from where you were sitting, going over his words. Maybe he’s right. You did have a lot of fun the first time you went and this project wasn’t due for a few more days.

You sighed, “I don’t know. Perhaps I do need a break.” His eyes lit up at your response and he quickly reached over to shut your textbook and push your notebooks to the side. 

“What are you waiting for then? Those first row seats are going fast.” After a moment, you caved into his words. 

“Alright, grab me the hoodie in my closet.” You ordered and he happily complied. Quickly you threw your hair into an updo and put streaks of gold and red on your cheeks. Slipping on the hoodie, you turned towards Seungmin who gave you a thumbs up. “Okay, let’s go.” 

Right as you guys were about to step out the room, you pulled him back. He gave you a questioning look. “By the way, you should consider being a salesman because sir, you really have a way to convince people with your words.” 

“Please spare me of your corny jokes y/n.” You punched him for his lack of appreciation for your humor as he led the way to his car. With that, you shut the door and the two of you were once again on your way to the school. 

———

“Oh sorry.” You apologized as you bumped into somebody as you tried to squeeze through the crowd and to the bleachers. 

“It’s oka- oh, y/n! Hey, you came back.” The person talking had a familiar voice so you looked up and Chan’s grin came into view. 

“Chan, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be on the grass like warming up or something?” Over his shoulder, you could see the rest of his team mates stretching and whatnot by the field. 

“Yeah, but I had to run back to grab something from the lockers. Guess my timing was impeccable because now I’ve run into you. I noticed you didn’t come to the last game so I wasn't expecting you today either.” In last week’s game, Chan had thought you’d tag along with Seungmin like the other time but when he noticed you weren’t there, he felt a slight tinge of disappointment. “Is Seungmin with you too?”

“Yup, he went to grab some food. Sorry about missing the game last week by the way. I was busy.” It sounded like a pathetic excuse but it was the truth, you were caught up trying to study for exams and prepare for a presentation so there was no time in your agenda for a football game. 

“Ah, no worries. You’re here now right? Plus, you didn’t miss anything last week anyways. We ended up losing, pretty badly actually.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and you felt bad for him. Before, you had always made jokes and poked fun at the team for constantly losing but if you were in their shoes, you would’ve felt so discouraged and perhaps even frustrated. At that moment, you sympathized for him and his teammates. 

“Don’t worry Chan, that was last week so it’s the past now. Focus on today and have hope that you’ll win! Go out there and give it your all. I believe in your and the other players.” You gave him two thumbs up and a cheeky smile and he couldn’t help but laugh at your attempt at a motivational speech. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He genuinely meant this. Lately, he’s been getting at himself for all the losses this season. Was it because he was an incompetent player? Was he a bad captain? Was he even good at football? All these questions swirled in his head and kept him up at night but having recently won, hearing your cute speech, and seeing you beam sweetly at him, those doubts vanished. 

“Chan! There you are, come over here so we can take some pictures for the school yearbook together!” One of the cheerleaders approached Chan and you watched as she clung onto his side. For a moment, you had forgotten he was the popular team captain. 

“Uh, maybe in a bit Tiffany. I’m busy right no—“ 

“Come on Chan, the photographer for the yearbook club is already here. Plus we look good together.”

You felt like you were intruding on something here and felt so uncomfortable as you witnessed the girl flirt with Chan. You had to get yourself out of the scene. 

“Well I’m going to go grab a seat, good luck Chan!” You hurriedly fled to leave those two alone. 

“Tell Seungmin I said hi. Also, cheer loud for me! I need the support!” He shouted as he was dragged away with the girl. You made your way up to the stands and sadly, you hadn’t made it in time to grab the front row but thankfully, you spotted an empty area not too far back and sat down. 

While you were sitting there waiting for Seungmin—what was taking him so long to get the food?—a realization struck: you just had a full on conversation with the captain of the football team and it was completely void of any awkward tension. You had only met the guy once before and merely exchanged a few words with him. You’d never thought you’d even attend a football game much less two, and now suddenly be on speaking terms with Bang Chan. Senior year was something else. 

“Earth to y/n?” A hand waved in front of your face and you snapped out of your thoughts. You realized it was your best friend—he had finally gotten back with the food. “You good? Why are you spacing out?” He sat down and started munching in the kettle corn. 

“Just thinking how weird it is that I ran into Chan of all people and managed to have a full on, not-awkward conversation with him.” You left out the last bit where the cheerleader came in though, because that was beyond awkward. 

“How is that weird?”

“I don’t know. I just never thought I would be this far out of my safe little shelter. I mean think about it. I’ve stuck with the same handful of friends since freshman year and it wasn’t until like two weeks ago when I finally went to a school event. Now, I’m suddenly chatting up a storm with the captain of the football team and am sitting here sipping on hot chocolate waiting for the game to start, thanks for the hot cocoa by the way.” You blew glenty on the drink and observed the steam dissipate into the night air before taking a sip, pure instant mix hot chocolate flavor, just the way you liked it. 

“Well, when you put it like that, I guess it is sort of odd.” Seungmin nodded in agreement before continuing, “But as long as you’re enjoying yourself, then there’s no problem. Sometimes stepping out of your comfort zone to experience new things has its benefits.”

“You’re right, I guess I’m just finally realizing that now.” You smiled to yourself and watched as the two teams raced around the field. You still lacked knowledge about football, but watching this time around felt even more exciting than the first time. 

———

The team ended up winning again and of course you and Seungmin were so proud of your school for taking home another victory. Just like last time, you two waited around after the game to approach Chan and shower him with compliments and words of praise. 

“I didn’t think we’d be able to do it but we did it.” Chan was still dripping sweat and catching his breath, but his eyes shone brightly with joy. 

“Of course you’d be able to do it! You’re Bang Chan! The one and only.” You bobbed your head in agreement with Seungmin’s words. You had to give it to him, he was the best hype man a person could ask for. 

“Thanks. Anyways, the team and I were planning to grab some pizza at the local shop nearby as a mini celebration, do you guys want to come?” Immediately you shook your head while Seungmin on the other hand had accepted the invitation without a second thought. 

“I know this is a lot to ask of you and you’re probably going to say ‘sorry, I have to go finish my math project’ but please y/n. You’re already here and the night is still young.” Seungmin was clinging onto your right arm like a koala and you rolled your eyes at his antics. 

“If you knew I was going to bring up my math project then why bother trying to beg? Now let go of my arm you big baby.” You tried to wriggle your arm from out of his clutch but then someone grabbed onto your other arm.

“Please y/n.” You looked to your left and Chan was acting like koala 2.0. You expected this from Seungmin, you’re long-time best friend, but you had just met Chan on one other occasion and yet he acted like you two were the best of pals. You were taken aback by this but couldn’t manage to get either of them to let go, and the close proximity to Chan was starting to make the blood rush to your cheeks. God, you had to get them off of you before your face grew any redder. 

“Yes, okay! I’ll go!” They instantly detached themselves from your arms and high-fived each other, you let out a breath of relief. “One of you has to pay though, I don’t care who.” 

So there you were, sitting in the red and white colored booth stuck between Seungmin and the football team captain himself with a slice of piping hot pizza in front of you. This is not how you thought things would turn out. 

When everyone had arrived at the pizzeria, it was chaos. People were throwing out their orders and topping preferences and others were fighting to grab a table. You quickly told Chan your order, as he offered to pay, and pulled Seungmin to a booth before all of them were taken. Luckily, there was one last one that was unoccupied at the corner. When Chan had came to the table with the pie in hand, you thought he would take the other side of the booth but someone had spilled sticky soda all over the seat so that’s how you found yourself in this current predicament, squished between two teenage boys in a stuffy old booth, on a weekday night.

The three of you were eating and mindlessly talking when a group of girls drew closer towards you guys. You figured they must’ve wanted to talk to Chan so you continued eating quietly. 

“Chan you were amazing tonight! You really led the team to another win, I knew you could do it.” You recognized her, it was the same girl from earlier—Tiffany? 

“Thanks, hope you enjoyed the game.” Chan responded politely. 

“Of course I did silly. Anyways, do you want to join me and the others over there?” She pointed towards the other side of the pizzeria where most of the players and cheerleaders were gathered. 

“I’m good here, thanks for asking though.” She looked shocked at his response and for the first time, she averted her attention away from Chan to focus on you and Seungmin. Her eyes rolled right over Seungmin but stopped at you. Her gaze made you feel all ansty and self-conscious, but you tried your best not to show it. “Okay, well call me then.” She said before turning back and moving back to the other side of the room. 

It was silent for a while before Chan broke the tension. 

“So you like pineapple on pizza?” Chan said, biting into his own slice.

“Well yeah, it’s the superior topping.” The combination of sweet and salty was the best.

“Do you perhaps like mint chocolate ice cream too?” He asked, handing you a napkin as he noticed the smear of tomato sauce on your cheek. You nodded in thanks. 

“It’s not my favorite but I wouldn’t pass it up if offered.” You shrugged and grabbed another slice of pizza. 

“Seungmin,” Chan said, which caught the attention of the boy on the other side of you. “I like this girl. She had good tast–” Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at his words and he didn’t manage to finish his sentence before you started coughing, almost choking on your food. 

“Y/n, are you okay?” They simultaneously asked in alarm and you silently gave them the  ‘ok’ hand signal while inhaling down your drink, trying to wash down the pizza and calm yourself.

“All good.” You were not all good. You were just about to choke on pizza while some guy you barely even knew proclaimed that he liked you out of the blue. 

“Anyways, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by someone choking.” You slapped his arm and he laughed in response. “She’s got good taste and quite the sense of humor. I see why you ditch me at school to hang out with her now.” He joked, was he teasing you already? This guy seriously warms up to new people fast.

Thank gosh no other light-hearted confessions were made for the rest of the dinner, you didn’t think you could handle anymore heart-stopping jokes for the night.

“Wait.” Seungmin said suddenly, just as you guys were about to start wrapping this up and leaving.

“What?” You looked at him, waiting for a reply.

“I think y/n is our lucky charm.” He said with too much confidence. You whipped your head to look at him.

“What nonsense are you sputtering now? I am no one’s lucky charm. Do I look like that tiny leprechaun on a box of cereal to you?” You asked, feigning offense. 

“Well, I think you got the tiny part down.” Chan pointed out, and for the nth time you smacked him on the arm. Sure you were on the short side but there was no need to rub it in.

“That’s not what I meant y/n.” Seungmin gave you a deadpanned look before carrying on. “Anyways think about it guys, the first time y/n came to the game, the team won. Then she didn’t go to last week’s game and we lost. And today, she attended and we won again. Seeing a pattern?” He looked at you two expectedly, waiting for you guys to catch on. “I’ve connected the two dots.”

“You didn’t connect shi-” You started but Chan cut you off.

“You’re right!” His face brightened and turned towards you. “Y/n, you are our good luck charm! . You facepalmed yourself, these two shared the same three brain cells. 

“Right, and you’re Santa Claus.” You said with thick sarcasm dripping from your voice, “You guys are ridiculous. Now help me clean up please.” You referred to the table which was covered in dirty napkins, crumbs, and parmesan cheese packets everywhere. Thankfully they obeyed and started clearing the mess.

“No seriously, we have been losing all season and the moment you show up, it’s like all that is erased and we win!” Chan tried to reason, but you weren’t having any of it.

“It’s just a coincidence. It’s you and your teammates that are doing the work and bringing in the luck. I am merely just an audience member, an observer.” You shook your head at them and continued wiping down the table.

“Don’t take our word for it then, but you have to go to the next game!” Seungmin announced as he tried to reorganize the condiments on the side. You had just gone to the game and no time had passed before you were urged to go to another one. 

“I’ll think about it.” You peered over at Chan and he was smiling uncontrollably while Seungmin was happy dancing. What did you just get yourself into?

–––––

Ever since the spontaneous pizza meeting and the half hearted promise to attend the football games, you’ve been seeing Chan more and more at school. Sometimes you’d just notice each other in the halls and mouth “hi” or other times it was passing period and he’d see you and ask  “how are you?” before the seven minutes were up. As the days continued, he just increasingly  appeared in your frame of vision and it left you confused.

Both of you had been in the same grade year, at the same school for the past four years but you swore you’ve never even noticed him before and now he was everywhere. He’d be near your locker in the morning tagging alongside Seungmin, greeting you with a sunny smile and fresh look that contrasted greatly to your own glum expression and ‘just rolled out of bed’ appearance. It was seven am, you had an excuse to look like this you reasoned, making yourself feel better. 

Lately, he even sat with you and your tablemates at lunch. Your group of friends was shocked at first. Questions like “why is a football player sitting with us?” and “why is the football team captain sitting with us?” were exchanged amongst the table and you didn’t know how to answer because, why was he sitting with you guys all of a sudden? Eventually everyone got used to it though; he came around so often and no one objected. Initially, your friends had thought he was the stereotypical jock that acted all mighty and superior, but soon enough they realized he was the complete opposite of that. He was nice, funny, intelligent, and easy to get along with. He’d help your friends whenever they were struggling to finish their homework last minute, and he’d join in on the games of uno, go fish, and whatever else. 

Frankly, you didn’t mind his presence either and Seungmin was absolutely basking in delight because both of his best friends were now with him at school, playing the same card games and eating the same shitty school food together. You didn’t know when or how, but Chan just eased his way into your life and you had accepted it for the most part. However, there were moments when you still questioned him though, and one day you figured you might as well clear the confusion in your head. 

“Hey Chan.” He was currently teaching you how to play poker. 

“What’s up buttercup?” 

“Don’t call me buttercup.” You fixed a glare at him. “Anyways, I hope this doesn’t come off as a weird question but, why have you hung out with us everyday at lunch?” He didn’t say anything for a second and you regretted asking.

“Hm, I guess I just like it here. Your friends are nice, Seungmin is here,” he pointed towards the boy who was on his third pack of vending machine chips. “And you’re here.” You tried not to make anything out of that last comment and brushed it off.

“What about your other friends?”

“Other friends?” He raised an eyebrow at you and continued shuffling the cards.

“You know, the people you normally hung out with before you started hanging out with us?” 

“I didn’t have any friends.” He said and you scoffed, not believing it for a second.

“You? Captain of the football team. Mr. Bang Chan himself didn’t have any friends until you met us?” You said incredulously. 

“I mean I had Seungmin.” 

“He couldn’t have been your only friend.”

“No, I guess he wasn’t–”

“I knew it.”

“You didn’t let me finish. He wasn’t my only friend but I felt like he was my only true friend.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, it all felt so fake, so forced. Like I have my teammates and they’re chill, but we were just teammates, we didn’t hang out much besides practice or games. It’s like, just because you’re classmates, that doesn’t automatically make you all friends right?” You understood what he was saying and agreed. “And everyone else… well, it just felt ungenuine. I know many of them just tried to befriend me for the connection and to have the ability to say ‘I’m friends with the football captain’ but it wasn’t anything more.” At that point, you had wished you never pried. You felt like you had just pushed him to open Pandora’s box and that’s not what you had intended.

“Look Chan, I’m sorry I got nosy. I didn’t mean to ask you that and pry–” The apology started spilling out your mouth but the smile on his lips made you stop. “Why are you smiling? Shouldn’t you be offended and mad at me?”

“No, of course not. I know you must’ve felt weird that I randomly started hanging around you and your friends and I’m glad we got to clear up any confusion.” He said softly, looking at you from across the table. “I genuinely enjoy being around everyone at this table, especially you, so you don’t have to question it anymore. Okay?”

You kept replaying the words in your mind, ‘especially you.’ How could he say these things so easily and not realize how fast it made your heart pound or how sweaty your palms got? You couldn’t focus for the rest of lunch as he tried to teach you the ins and outs of poker. 

————- 

Weeks had passed and you, Seungmin, and Chan were like three peas in a pod—inseparable and going everywhere together. 

One day, you guys had planned on a hang out with three spots on the schedule planned. First was to hit up the arcade—Chan’s idea—and then grab dinner at Olive Garden—Seungmin said he was craving their breadsticks—-and lastly the cherry on top would be ice cream—-your suggestion. 

“Ready to get your ass handed in air hockey big shot?” You teased Chan as three headed to the arcade. 

“Oh, you’re so on.” He narrowed his eyes at you in the rear view mirror and you laughed from the backseat. 

“Woah, we should make this more exciting. Make it a wager.” Seungmin proposed from the passenger’s side. 

“What do you have in mind?” You stuck your head in between the two seats and looked at him. 

“Whoever loses...has to dress up as a fanatic at the last game of the season.”

“Isn’t the last game next week?” You asked, and the boys nodded in confirmation.

“Anyways I was thinking big fluffy tutu, face paint, a colored wig.” Seungmin listed out.

“Oh, and my jersey!” You made a disgusted face at Chan.

“Your jersey? You mean the one you sweat in and get both mud and grass stains all over?” The image of it alone was already disturbing, you couldn’t imagine actually putting it on.

“You know I wash it right?”

“Well regardless, what are we going to do if Chan loses though? He can’t do any of that, he had a uniform code to abide by.” You pointed out.

“Good point, if he loses he has to wear all of that to the after party then.”

“After party? Isn’t that only thrown when the team wins? What if the team doesn’t win?” You pointed out.

“The team will win.” Chan said with full confidence.

“No offense, but how are you so sure?” 

“Because, you’re our lucky charm.” 

________

“This is so unfair! He is an athlete! His hand eye coordination is way better than us common folk!” You shouted in disbelief as the last puck went into your goal, signaling that both you and Seungmin lost. 

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” Chan teased as he proceeded to do a victory dance as you and your other friend stared at him unamused. “Oh wait. I only have one extra jersey though, so only one of you can wear it.”

“All yours Seungmin!” 

“What, no way! You should wear it, you had the least amount of points between the two of us.” 

“I– you– ugh!” You couldn’t argue with that. You had to accept the fate of wearing that dingy, stinky, jersey now.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll do my best to wash it before then.” Chan added, finding it cute how you scrunched up your nose and pouted.

“Great, how reassuring.” 

“Ok that’s enough arcade for tonight. My pocket is running dry and those breadsticks are waiting.” Seungmin stated before making it towards the door with you and Chan following behind. 

The night was coming to an end and you guys were at the last stop–the ice cream shop. The three of you ordered a sundae and took turns scooping from the mountain of frozen dairy, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and rainbow sprinkles. 

“Are you nervous for the last game? You're going against the toughest school right?” You asked, looking at Chan who sat on the other side of the table with Seungmin. 

“A little, but for some reason I just feel really confident in the team so I think we will be fine.” 

“No doubt you got this in the bag man.” Seungmin said through a mouthful of ice cream.

“Nasty! Shut your mouth while you're eating Seungmin!” You tossed a crumpled up napkin at him.

“You’re one to talk, you’re quite a messy eater yourself.” Chan mentioned, reaching over to swipe the chocolate syrup off the corner of your lips. Regardless of how close you two had gotten over these last few weeks, his little gestures like these always caught you off guard, like wiping the corner of your mouth, guiding you somewhere with his hand on the small of your back, walking you to every class period. You’ve known Seungmin for years and he never did these things! Was it because he wasn’t chivalrous enough? Or was Chan too chivalrous? You shook your head of those thoughts and helped the two finish up the sundae.

–––––––––-  

This had got to be the worst outfit you ever wore you thought to yourself as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. The tulle skirt was actually cute but everything else was simply hideous. Seungmin had brought over the accessories in the early evening and you two had spent the last hour or two dressing up and getting ready for tonight’s game. You wore a wine red wig with gold stars painted across your cheeks and of course you kept your end of the deal and had Chan’s jersey on too, which surprisingly smelt of fresh linen. Seungmin on the other hand wore a bright yellow mohawk wig with half his face painted red, adorned with his very own tutu, which was layered over his pants, as well. You two looked awful but extremely hilarious.

“If I don’t get accepted into a college. I could go to the circus looking like this.” 

“Clown college is always an option.” Seungmin joked and you two laughed at your appearances until there were tears in your eyes. 

“Ready to go?” 

“Yup, let’s blow Chan’s socks off with these outfits.”

While you two were busy getting ready for the game, Chan was trying to prepare himself too, but mentally. It wasn’t that he was nervous about the game or the team losing, he had total confidence tonight would bring in another victory. The team had been doing well so far and everyone had been practicing extra hard for this final event. What he was really nervous about was seeing you. 

It had been weeks since he had first met you and the more he had gotten to know you, the more feelings he developed and the harder he fell for you. He had first seen you in the stands when Seungmin introduced you to him and he thought it was funny, yet adorable how your cheeks were stuffed like chipmunks with fried oreos. As time passed, he realized that you weren’t just cute, but so sarcastic, funny, and clever. He loved the way you made him laugh so easily and seeing your eyes turn to crescent moons whenever you smiled affected him more than you would ever know. 

He was planning on confessing to you today, to finally say the words ‘I like you.’ He had tried to do it multiple times before, but he never had the courage. Today was different though. Today you’d be wearing his jersey to the game and he was going to win, afterwards you’d meet him on the field and he’d run to you to say those three words and you guys would gaze into each other's eyes under the twinkling stars before going to the after party together, officially as a couple. That’s how the scene played in his head anyways. 

It was hard to not notice you when you had arrived. Both you and Seungmin stuck out like sore thumbs with the extravagant wigs and tutu combination. He couldn’t keep in his laughter and approached you two, meeting halfway. 

“You guys look amazing. Stars of the show tonight.” He looked at Seungmin before switching his gaze to you. Although he admitted the outfit had some clashing elements, he still thought you looked cute and pretty as ever. Seeing you in his jersey, which was just a bit too big on you, made his heart flip. There you were smiling at him with the light shining on your face, rosy cheeks, and his name written on your backside. How could he stop himself from falling for you?

“Thanks man, if we didn’t lose that game in air hockey, we would’ve never had the excuse to dress up like this. Like the mohawk?” Seungmin pointed to his hair.

“Love it. It’s a great look on you.” He looked at Seungmin before switching his gaze to you. Although he admitted the outfit had some clashing elements, he still thought you looked cute and pretty as ever. Seeing you in his jersey, which was just a bit too big on you, made his heart flip. There you were smiling at him with the light shining on your face, rosy cheeks, and his name written on your backside. How could he stop himself from falling for you?

“We’re going to the party after the game too right? I told my parents I was going to be home late today.” You asked. 

“Yeah, that’s the plan.” Chan said. 

“The game is about to begin, you should get going Chan, we will be in the stands cheering for you.” You reassured him before moving towards the steps to the bleachers, he grabbed your wrist to stop you though. 

“After we win tonight, meet me down on the field right after okay? Don’t wait, I have something important to tell you.” 

“Okay, now go before you’re scolded by the coach!” You ran up the stairs and assumed Seungmin was right behind you, in actuality he had stayed back for a second to talk to Chan. 

“Are you ready man? After you win you gotta use whatever adrenaline left and build up the courage to tell her.” Seungmin reminded Chan, hoping he wouldn’t back out of the confession again. He had been the wingman for weeks now and every time he thought Chan would do it, he didn’t. When his best friend first told him that he had a crush on your other best friend, he was momentarily appalled at the idea. However, after hearing Chan’s explanations on why he likes you and his feelings, he figured third wheeling you two wouldn’t be too bad as long as the both of you were happy, so he went along with it. 

He thought you’d catch onto Chan’s hints and subtle flirting, but either you were too dense or intentionally ignored it. Regardless, he and Chan had been planning this night for too long and he could not let his friend fail again. 

“Don’t worry. I’m going to do it.” 

“Okay, I’m really rooting for you.” 

Then Seungmin joined you in the bleachers and shortly after, the game commenced. 

———- 

It was intense. The opponents were just as good as the rumors made them out to be and your school’s team wasn’t leading, but they weren’t far behind either.

The other team had called for a time out and so the game was on pause. You were nervously eyeing the scoreboard and looked around in the field to find Chan. Was he feeling more pressured now? Hopefully he still had the confidence from earlier. You spotted him, with his back turned, but it was as if he knew you were looking at him because he circled around and locked eyes with you. You gave him two thumbs up and he returned the gesture. 

The whistle blew and everyone got back into their positions. The time was running again and the crowd was cheering nonstop. 

They had to win. 

It was the first game you’d ever gone to over the last few weeks that had gone over time but surely enough, the school reigned victorious. 

“Y/n, remember you had to meet Chan at the field right?” Seungmin reminded you, and thankfully he did because you were so caught up with the win that you’d forgotten for a second 

 “Oh, right. Are you coming?” 

“No, I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit.” With that you left Seungmin and hurried down the bleachers. You had made it to the track and was halfway to the field when you noticed Chan, but he wasn’t alone. 

You stopped mid-step and watched as the unknown girl wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. You couldn’t see her face form here but you had a feeling it was Tiffany again. Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight and there was a sinking feeling in your stomach. 

He said he had something important to tell you. When he said that, a big part of you was looking forward to the end of the game. Not because you wanted to see them win, but because you wanted to hear him tell you what was so important. Was it that he liked you just as much as you liked him? When these feelings first developed, you tried to bury them. Not only was he Seungmin’s friend, which would make things weird, but because you weren’t sure if he was single, and  even if he was, why would he like you when there were so many other girls at the school? But you were bad at burying feelings and it didn’t help that you saw him everyday at school and even more so when you hung out. 

You had been hopeful though, perhaps by some miracle he had a crush on you too. But from the looks of it now, you had been wrong. So you stood there staring like a fool as the girl continued to kiss him. It must’ve been only second but it felt like forever. You snapped out of it when you realized hot tears were running down your cheeks, so you turned to leave through the school gates. 

————-

Chan pushed her off and immediately put distance between himself and the girl. “What are you doing Tiffany?!” 

“Why do you keep calling me Tiffany? You used to call me Tiff or princess.” She said, stomping her feet out of frustration. Chan wanted to roll his eyes at her childish behavior. 

“That was before.” Before was when Chan and Tiffany were together and known as the ‘it’ couple amongst the school. She was the head cheerleader and he was team captain, it was just like all those cheesy teen rom-coms. At the time, he had never dated anyone before and thought what they had was fun, but there was no real chemistry. It had lasted for almost a year but Chan had broken it off. “We’re not together anymore.” 

“Then let’s get back together.” She reached out to him but he stepped back. 

“No, there’s no chance for us anymore Tiffany. I gotta go find someone.” So he left the flabbergasted girl in the middle of the field as he ran off in search of another girl who was in a brightly colored tutu and the jersey with his name on it. With no luck he saw Seungmin and went up to him. 

“Where is she?” Chan asked anxiously.

“What do you mean? I thought she was with you.” Seungmin asked in a wary tone. 

“What? No, I haven’t seen her.” 

“Chan, she left right after the game ended to look for you. How can you possibly be telling me you missed the girl in a bright ass wig and a tulle skirt?” He asked in disbelief. 

“Oh shi—“

————

Thankfully the walk home wasn’t too bad, besides having the cold air nip at your bare skin, it wasn’t a very long walk and before you knew it you were already on the front porch unlocking the door. 

Your parents were already fast asleep and you didn’t want to wake them so you gently closed the door and made way to your room. Your reflection in the mirror revealed the streaks of eyeliner that were smudged around your eyes and the face paint was no longer intact. Washing your face, you tore off all the ridiculous clothes and slipped on your oversized t-shirts and sweats. 

This was so stupid. You felt like a protagonist in one of those typical romance films which is the last thing you had wanted. There you were wrecked in tears, crushing over some guy on a Friday night and he didn’t even realize it. The game was over so he was probably at the after party with that girl right now, meanwhile you were sulking under the covers in bed. 

The phone on your nightstand was chiming non-stop and it dawned on you that you just left Seungmin without a single word. Quickly you swiped your screen open and went to your messages.

Over thirty-two texts–twelve of which were from Seungmin and the rest were all from Chan. You disregarded the latter and tapped on your best friend’s name.

(8:42 pm)

[ seungminnie ] hey, wya?

(8:45 pm)

[ seungminnie ] r u in the bathroom?

(8:46 pm)

[ seungminnie ] wait, did u leave already?

(9:04 pm)

[ you ] yeah, i was feeling tired so i left. sorry, hope you have fun at the party tho. 

You hit send and shut off your phone for the rest of the night. The rest of the night was uneventful as you laid awake, running through everything that had led you up to this point. From the first football game, meeting Chan, befriending him, falling for him, then being crestfallen because of him.

This is why you always stuck to the things you knew, the things you were comfortable with. It had been like this for so long and the one time you finally tried to live life a little bit carefree with less restraints, it backfires. You wanted to blame him for causing this pain in your chest and the waterworks, but at the end of it all, it was your fault for thinking things would be different. Meeting Chan made you optimistic; perhaps those stereotypes about football players and high school kids were wrong. It was your fault for stepping outside of your safe little bubble and expecting things to be okay. You were naive.

————

The afterparty was a bust. After Seungmin had received the text from you, he informed Chan and the two of them were no longer in the mood to go, but everyone else was still in a celebratory mood and the team ushered Chan to join. How could the team captain not go to the party? 

So there he was, sitting on the couch while Seungmin was off trying to grab more sodas. He had plastered on a fake smile when people greeted him. Sure he was happy that they had won, but he didn’t feel like dancing, or mingling, or whatever else teenagers did at parties. All he could think about was how he messed up again at trying to confess to you. You must’ve seen what happened, there was no other reason for you to leave so abruptly like that. He had sent so many texts, sporadic apologies mixed with incoherent explanations. All left unread, unresponded. How was he going to fix this? You clearly didn’t even want to talk to him.

Seungmin came back with two cans in hand and Chan thanked him before popping it open with a satisfying fizz. His friend joined him on the couch and for a while, they just sat quietly, occasionally sipping on the sweet drink while the room around them continued to move to the music and muddled conversations filled the atmosphere. Finally, one of them spoke.

“What am I going to do?” Chan asked, defeat lined his voice.

“Do you really like her man?” Seungmin already knew the answer, but he had to ask.

“Yeah, I really do.” He said without a moment’s hesitation. Chan didn’t have much wisdom or experience when it came to relationships. He’s had crushes on different people before and many have tried to get his attention but none of them had the same effect on him as you did. 

“Then wait until she’s ready to approach you again and fight for her. It’s going to take time but if you want to make it happen, you have to try.” 

Seungmin was right. This wasn’t going to be simple, but he had to try. For you, he would.  

————

You tried to recover over the weekend and Seungmin sent you some texts, checking up on you to ask if you were alright. You were grateful for his concern and reassured him that you were okay, and in a way, it was a half lie, half truth. It was going to take more than two days to get over heartache, but you were prepared to let it go and move on, especially when you realized that it was your mistake to begin with and that even if Chan didn’t like you that way, you still enjoyed having him as a friend. All these weeks you spent with him brought you happiness and you didn’t want to erase all of that just because of some silly feelings. 

Coming to that conclusion, you finally opened the texts that he had sent but you had been ignoring for the last three days. 

(Friday 8:50 pm)

[ chan ] seungmin told me you left, i hope you made it home safely

(Friday 8:51 pm)

[ chan ] he told me u were going to meet me after the game. u must’ve seen us. im sorry

It was difficult to continue reading as your eyes began to blur but you swiped away the tears that threatened to spill and kept scrolling. 

(Friday 8:53 pm)

[ chan ] i really wanted to talk to u. Ik what you must be thinking but it’s nothing, i promise. she isn’t my girlfriend. we used to date but that was a long time ago. it's over now. 

[ chan ] please reply. 

[ chan ] im sorry y/n. seriously, im so sorry. 

(Friday 9:27 pm)

[ chan ] i’ll wait for u until ur ready to talk to me. gn 

That was the last text he sent you. It was just a few sentences but you let out a shaky breath and tossed your phone to the side. He wanted to talk to you, and you wanted to talk to him too. Was it just a big misunderstanding? He said the girl wasn’t his girlfriend, but rather an ex. That didn’t automatically guarantee he was single though, did it? Also, if she was an ex, why did he kiss her then? You groaned and fell into your bed, face planting into the pillows. 

This was so confusing. You should’ve never developed feelings for him. Whether he was single or not shouldn’t matter to you anymore, you just wanted to joke around, make sarcastic comments with each other, and be platonic friends like before. It was less stressful and complicated that way. 

————

Monday rolled around and you gave yourself a mini pep talk before walking through the school doors. You were determined to face him and not break down. This was going to be fine. You whispered to yourself as you spotted Seungmin near your locker, Chan wasn’t with him. Both a little disappointing, yet relieving. 

“Morning gorgeous, you doing well?” Seungmin leaned against your locker door as you grabbed your belongings.

“Well hello to you too gorgeous.” You joked, no matter how bad your weekend was, having your best friend nearby always cheered you up. “I’m doing alright this morning, woke up on the right side of the bed.” 

“That’s good, um, are you going to talk to him today?” He asked cautiously, hoping that it didn’t come off too pushy or nosy.

“Yeah. He said he needed to talk to me after the game right? Might as well see what he had to say.” You shut the metal door and together, you and Seungmin walked to first period. 

Half the school day had passed and the bell rang, signaling that it was lunch. This was it, you were going to face him now. You were afraid he’d avoid you because he didn’t sneak up behind you in the halls or walk your classes today like he usually did, but you saw his figure sitting at the lunch tables through the glass windows. Slowly you made your way to the bench. His back was turned to you so you gently poked his shoulder; he turned and looked up, a gentle smile spread across his face when his chocolate brown eyes locked onto yours. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi.” He breathed out, standing up to match you. “Can we go somewhere to talk?” His hands were shoved in his pockets and he looked at you nervously.

“Yeah.” 

He led the way and you stuck close behind him. Soon the school’s garden came into view and thankfully most people didn’t come here, it was sort of hidden behind all the buildings, so you two had the area to yourself. It was so quiet and mellow here, there weren’t many flowers in bloom due to the recent season change, but it was still very beautiful. 

You sat on the little wooden bench that was placed in the center and he did too, leaving some room in between you two.  

“So, what did you want to talk about?” You started, looking down at your lap to avoid looking at him.

“I’m sorry. That’s the first thing I want to tell you.” He had all his attention on you. Chan paused for a moment before continuing, “You saw me with that girl the other night didn’t you?” You nodded your head wordlessly. His shoulders slumped at your confirmation but he figured you did.v“I know what you saw must’ve been really bad and you probably came up with many assumptions but I’m here to tell you that none of that is true. We aren’t together.” He said firmly.

“Then why did you kiss her?” Your voice was a mere whisper.

“I didn’t kiss her, she just came onto me and I was shocked. Once I had realized what was happening and who it was, I immediately stopped it and told her that she and I were completely over.” Some of the pain in your heart eased hearing this but you didn’t want to be too optimistic.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I need you to know that I am not with her. I am not with anyone.” He said vehemently, leaving no room for doubts. “Y/n, please look at me.” When you didn’t, he gently grasped your chin and turned your head so he could finally meet your eyes. You had a dejected expression and your eyes were glazed over with trapped tears. He cupped your cheek with the palm of his hand; the warmth and closeness made your heart flutter. 

“Y/n.”

“Mmhhm?” You didn’t have the ability to form words at the moment. His touch made you lightheaded and you couldn’t think straight. 

“I like you.” His gaze never tore away from yours. 

“What?” Your forehead wrinkled in puzzlement.  He liked you? Bang Chan, captain of the football team. The boy everyone wanted to be friends with and the guy nearly all the girls swooned for. Bang Chan liked you?

“I. Like. You. Not just as a friend. I like you as a person that I want to go on dates with, hold hands with, make happy memories and experience the highs and lows of life with.” He was so close to you now that you could feel his breath on your cheeks. “You are the girl I wanted to hold in the middle of the field that night and say these words to. I’m sorry that didn’t happen but it’s better late than never.” The words were slowly processing through your head but unconsciously, a grin formed on your lips and red was rushing to your cheeks. 

“Chan, I like you too.” The words came out so easily and the boy immediately broke out into the brightest smile you’ve ever seen.

He leaned in close but before your lips connected he whispered, “Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes.” If someone were to have told you a few months back that you’d be kissing Chan under the cloud-dotted, blue autumn sky after he just confessed his feelings for you, you would’ve guessed they were insane, but there you were now doing exactly that and nothing could’ve made you happier. 

You had always been afraid of trying new things and straying from your typical routine because you didn’t know what challenges life had in store once you’ve ventured too far. Undoubtedly, stepping out of your comfort zone was difficult. Nevertheless, it was worth it because it led you here to this very moment. 

also here is my masterlist in case you want to read my other works!

#skz oneshots #stray kids oneshot #skz au #stray kids au #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bang chan x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz angst #stray kids angst #bang chan #stray kids masterlist #skz masterlist

[leechonspeeddial]

Midnight Shift: The Serpent at Burger King - A Seduction of Kevins Summary: The Devil comes disguised as everything you want, Alice Cullen comes with fondue fountains and Bugattis. wc: 1.7k Read on ao3

There was one simple lesson I learned from a young age and quickly internalized while living as a Cullen.

Never play chess with a psychic.

You think a mind reader is a problem? No, you just have to add on geographical distance and then you're back on an equal playing field; as long as you keep apart, you can use your best strategies and winning is still possible. A psychic though, there is no distance you can go to be hidden from their sight. Once they get their teeth in you, your odds at winning are – for a lack of a better word – shit. So, as I held Alice's gaze at our local Burger King, I reminded myself this one very important rule.

Never play chess with a psychic.

Too late.

If you did find yourself playing chess with a psychic, the best course of action would be to become irrational and flip the board. You might not win, but neither would they and you'd save yourself the effort. I took a deep breath and assessed the situation. There were currently five humans with ten pairs of working human eyes at the restaurant; flipping the board would be disastrous, either people would die or they'd bear witness to vampiric activity. So that's out of the question, next strat.

Though Alice had gotten used to reading around the blind spots caused by me, she hadn't totally mastered it yet. My best choice was to act without thinking and take over the conversation as much as possible. That, well, that I could manage no problem.

"Well, well, well. What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Assistant Manager?" I addressed Gay Kevin, hoping to also neutralize Jasper. Mr. Emotional Roofie was another obstacle here, trying to goad my coworkers so that they emotionally overwhelm him was my best shot. "Showing up two hours late to your shift with no warning?"

Gay Kevin looked exhausted.

"Please, not in front of the customers," he sounded embarrassed. Not Kevin snorted and took the interruption as an opportunity to make Milkshake boy his drink and get away from Alice. Meanwhile, Straight Kevin hopped over the counter and directly headed towards the old fries – if we didn't do our duty to eat them, they would be thrown out.

I also took notice of the guy that came in with the Kevins; he was shorter than Gay Kevin but slightly taller than Straight Kevin, he had thick black hair, but more importantly, he carried a video camera with him. He observed us, brown eyes full of amusement, and I sincerely hoped he was a vlogger.

"They aren't customers," I chirped with a predatory smile.

"I am a one though," Milkshake boy frowned. I waved him off.

"You're Not Kevin adjacent. You don't count," Gay Kevin looked increasingly irritated despite Jasper's attempt at giving chill vibes. He crossed his arms.

"So, what's this? You decide to throw a party while I was gone?"

I was about to retort when Alice interrupted me. I glared.

"There IS a party involved, but not here and not right now. Alice Cullen, nice to meet you, I'm –"

"Resentment's sister," Alice scrunched up her nose but nodded.

"Yup! And I came here to personally invite you, other Kevin, and Not Kevin to Nessie's party"

"You said you were born on 9/11," Straight Kevin's said accusingly with a mouth full of fries.

"It's not a birthday party," Alice tried to clarify, only to be drowned out by Not Kevin.

"You were born on 9/11?" I turned to address him and realized he was making Milkshake boy a chocolate shake, ruining all the hard work I put into my performance. Today was definitely not my day.

"I mean, yeah, but not like 9/11 9/11. I'm only 16," Not Kevin nodded but then his eyes widened as a realization seemed to hit him.

"Oh fuck. I forgot that was 20 years ago…"

"I wasn't even born 20 years ago," Straight Kevin added and it seemed to act as a punch to Not Kevin's gut.

"God, you guys are babies. I remember my parents picking me up from kindergarten early and being glued to the news for the rest of the day," Gay Kevin's statement also appeared to have a negative effect on Not Kevin, making him look even more miserable. Camera man looked like there was no place he rather be. Alice, well, she looked endlessly irritated.

"I feel so old" Not Kevin whispered, shell-shocked.

"You are old. What are you, like 50?" Not Kevin glared at me.

"What's 9/11?"

I blinked. Everyone went quiet and stared at Milkshake boy, who looked very confused. No one spoke for a full beat.

"Jack's 19 and, uh, Canadian," Not Kevin shrugged helplessly and said as if that explained everything. He handed the kid his milkshake.

"Hey, I thought there weren't any Oreos –"

"ANYWAY," Alice said loudly and we all looked at her, "it's not a birthday party. It's more like a celebration of Nessie's first job. Our family would love to have all of you for dinner"

"She means that we'd love to have you at the event. Not that we want to eat you for dinner," Jasper added unnecessarily and made me want to face palm. So, I did.

"I wasn't worried about possible cannibalism when she said it, but now I am," Straight Kevin took a wary step away from Jasper. Alice rolled her eyes.

"There will be plenty of free food and you can take as many leftovers as you want with you," Straight Kevin seemed to seriously consider this.

"I'm in," Alice handed him a pink envelope and smiled. Fuck.

Improvise.

"Speaking of customers. We have one right now," I pointed at Camera man, "so we can't deal with you right now," I tried to push Alice out the store but she held her ground.

"I'm also not a customer," he shrugged, "I came for the rats"

Shit.

"Tài…don't do this" Gay Kevin pleaded.

"My hands are tied. I promised my audience," so he was some sort of vlogger. This was admittedly the only good thing that has happened today.

"See, he's not a customer. I can stay," I groaned at Alice's smug tone.

"Technically, you're both loitering. So, neither of you should stay"

"I agree with the Assistant Manager"

Alice and I stared down at each other while Camera man and Gay Kevin had a silent conversation with their eyes. For the next while, the only sounds that could be heard in the restaurant were Straight Kevin loudly chewing, Milkshake boy slurping, and Olivia Rodrigo's drivers license playing on the speakers.

Suddenly, Not Kevin snapped his fingers, drawing our attention to him.

"You know, it occurs to me that since both Kevins are finally here, I can take my break. Come on Jack, I'm taking you home," he quickly made his way around the counter and grabbed Milkshake boy. "I'll make sure to call if I'm somehow two hours late," I smirked at Alice as her eyes narrowed. I greatly encouraged any action that made her look like that.

Milkshake boy tilted his head and didn't let himself be dragged out of the joint. I had half a mind to help Not Kevin.

"But dad said to –"

"Your dad will be ok with this as long as you don't set the house on fire. Again" Milkshake boy frowned.

"It happened once. I said I was sorry"

"Yeah, yeah. Come on bud, time's ticking"

Finally, that seemed to get Milkshake boy moving and heading to the door.

"Don't forget your invite!" Alice called out.

"We're good," Not Kevin responded with a hand on the door and the other pulling the teen along.

"Did I mention there will be a fondue fountain?"

Not Kevin hesitated by the door and I could only feel horror as my stomach dropped. Not Kevin was weak for cheese and cheese related by-products.

"Chocolate or cheese?"

"Both," I held my breath. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fucking fair.

"Shame, I'm on a diet"

"You aren't –"

And they were both gone before Milkshake boy could finish calling out Not Kevin's blatant lie. I fist bumped the air and stuck my tongue out at Alice, fully intending to gloat over this minor victory.

That is, until I saw Alice smiling.

Fucking psychics.

"What's got you so smug," I snarked, hoping to get a hint of whatever vision she just had. She smirked and I could tell she could see right through me. So much for not playing chess with psychic.

"I had a sudden revelation that everything will be alright," her eyes twinkled with mischief and, not for the first time, I was very jealous of Edward. Why the fuck did he get the mind reading powers? Tactile thought projection was so stupid and useless the majority of the time.

"You're so fucking annoying"

"I prefer the term persistent," I'd prefer if she was set on fire. "Which reminds me, hey boys"

Camera man and Gay Kevin stopped doing whatever the hell they were doing and paid attention to Alice, who was holding up one her dumb little pink envelopes.

"What do you say, a chance to eat fancy rich people food and see some fancy rich people cars," Camera man turned to Gay Kevin.

"Babe"

"Is this like, appropriate. Professionally speaking," Gay Kevin scrunched up his nose trying to figure out the etiquette of this weird ass situation.

"I'm more than happy to take you guys on a spin in my brand-new Bugatti"

"Babe"

"Why does this feel like bribery?" Gay Kevin narrowed his eyes at Alice, he seemed incredibly suspicious.

"Because it is," I growled and attempted to set Alice on fire with my stare.

"And I fully admit it. I just want to throw a good party, and guest are a very important part," she stretched out her hand towards Camera man, "think about it, that's all I ask"

Camera man and Gay Kevin shared a look, and Camera man grabbed the envelope. Ugh.

"Wonderful! Remember to R.S.V.P., we'll leave you to it," she waved and grabbed Confederate hubby.

They walked away and I could hear Alice speak, her voice far too low for human ears, but just the right volume for me.

"There's been a change of plans, we're meeting up Esme"

I scowled. I knew it was bait, I knew Alice wanted me to hear her, and it was driving me insane. Why would they need to see Esme? Why would Alice want me to know this?

I fucking hated my life.

#midnight shift #twilight fanfiction #resentment cullen #twilight #alice cullen

[colbybrocksmolder]

The Wilderness – Colby Brock x Reader 3/4

PART 2

“WELCOME TO THE FIRST GROUP ACTIVITY” Elton said into the megaphone. “As you can tell, we’re down to eight teams.”

“I told you!” Colby said, nudging you with his elbow.

“I really can’t wait to watch this series so I know how everyone else did.” You laughed, leaning against Colby.

Elton continued after the crowd quieted. “There will be multiple prizes handed out today. I need everyone that got at least one BINGO to come forward.”

Only one team didn’t move forward. “How did they not get at least one?” Sam laughed.

“Okay, now I need everyone that got more than one to move to the left and everyone else to move to the right.” Elton instructed. There were people set up with laptops to confirm the single BINGO winners.

“This is where we part.” Kat laughed, her and Sam walking to the right while you and Colby joined JC and Chelsey on the left.

“YEAH!” Colby cheered, tackle hugging JC. You and Chelsey laughed at the boys.

“How many did you get?” you asked.

“Three.” She answered.

“Ooo, we got four.” You bragged, laughing at Colby and JC now full on wrestling.

“I’m impressed.” Elton said into the megaphone. “Who got what?” he asked, dropping the megaphone and coming towards you with a cameraman.

“We got four!” Colby said, dusting himself off.

“Damnit!” JC laughed. “We got three.”

“Let me see your BINGO cards and your SD cards.” Elton said, popping them into a laptop and confirming your win. “Looks like Colby and Y/n won this one!” He called out so the whole group could hear.

Elton moved back to grab the megaphone, everyone else’s wins having been confirmed. “Okay, so everyone who got at least one BINGO gets to pick one snack food out of that bin. Each person on your team gets to pick one, so two per team. That includes JC and Colby’s teams.”

Everyone cheered, rushing forward to pick their snacks. “Doritos or Oreos?” Colby asked, looking at you.

“Honestly, both.” You laughed. “I’ll grab whatever one you don’t pick.”

“Y/n, if I grab this jar of peanut butter can I trade you some for some Oreos?” Kat asked.

“Oh, hell yeah. Oreos dipped in peanut butter is the best.” You agreed, seeing Sam grab a family size bag of pre-popped popcorn. “Nice choice!” you told him, walking back to stand next to Colby.

“The second BINGO prize is a little better.” Elton said. “Both teams that got two BINGOS get one shower per team member in the RV during your stay out here.”

“Thank god!” JC laughed. “That’s going to add at least a day to how long I can stay out here.”

You leaned up to whisper in Colby’s ear. “We should ask if we can give away our showers.”

He shrugged, thinking it through. “We don’t really need it with the lake.”

“Elton, can we give our showers to another team?” You asked, laughing at the confused look on his face.

“You can trade any goods within the competition, so I guess. Yeah.” He replied.

You leaned back up to whisper in Colby’s ear. “Give it to Corey and Andrea.”

Colby busted up laughing. “Hey Corey!” Colby called. “Our showers are yours, buddy.”

Corey pretended he had just won an award, tears and all. He walked up to Colby and pulled him into a stage kiss making everyone laugh. “Thank you, brother.” He said, wiping away his fake tears and walking straight into the RV.

“That was…interesting.” Elton laughed. “Moving on.”

Colby leaned down and whispered in your ear. “Good idea, babe.” He put his arm around your shoulders.

“Each team that got three BINGOS…you’re both going back to camp with a large, hot pizza.”

Everyone else groaned, but you, JC, Chelsey and Colby cheered. “Fuck yes!” Colby yelled. “That’s the best prize we could have won.”

“I could destroy that pizza right now.” Chelsey laughed.

“And last, but certainly not least, Colby and Y/n are both over 21.” Elton said. “And for getting the most BINGOS, you need to decide between the two of you what bottle of alcohol you want.”

“WHISKEY!” You both said, laughing at each other’s quick answers.

“For YouTube monetization reasons, I need to reiterate that both of these adults are over 21 and will not be sharing their alcoholic beverages with anyone under the age of 21.” Elton’s stare moving between the two of you.

“Oh, for sure.” Colby’s eyes went wide. “We’re totally responsible adults that would never condone underage drinking.”

“What he said.” You added, laughing.

“Okay, that concludes this part of the event. Everyone remember to record yourselves and check in on the walkie talkie before you go to bed!” Elton said, most people waking back to their campsites.

“You four stay here.” Elton said to You, Colby, Chelsey, and JC.

Sam and Kat walked up with puppy dog eyes. “Friends…” Sam said, sticking his lip out in a pout.

“We’re going to share the pizza, you pieces of garbage.” Colby laughed.

“YES!” Sam cheered, jumping up and down.

“You guys are nice.” JC said, laughing. “We aren’t sharing shit.”

Elton walked back out with a bottle of Jameson and two boxes of pizza. “This is yours.” He handed you the bottle and Colby the pizza. “And this is yours.” He handed the other pizza to Chelsey. “Congrats, guys.”

“I didn’t even know prizes were a thing when we signed up for this.” You laughed, sniffing the pizza box. “Let’s go eat.”

“Wait!” Sam said, grabbing the camera batteries and extra SD cards out of his pocket. “Can we just switch these out now so no one has to hike back to us tomorrow?”

“Oh, yeah.” Colby said, sticking his hip out so you could grab your batteries and cards out of his pocket.

“Hey, it saves us a hike.” Elton said, running inside the RV and coming out with fresh batteries and cards for both of you. “Anything you know you want cut out or bleeped yet?” He asked.

“Umm….” Sam said, his eyes going to Colby’s. He had recorded you two making out just a few hours ago.

“Nope.” Colby answered. “We’re all good.”

You smiled at him, following him back towards your campsite.

When the four of you got back and unloaded your snack prizes and camera supplies, you gathered around the fire, munching on pizza. Sam turned the camera on.

“Another alliance check-in.” Sam said, recording the half-eaten pizza and the four of you.

“This is hands down the best prize we won.” You moaned, sipping your sports drink and grabbing a second slice.

“We didn’t even win it.” Sam laughed, reaching for his second slice.

Colby looked at the camera. “Sam and Colby vs the world, brother!”

“True that. True that.” Sam agreed, getting a TMI close shot of him shoving pizza in his mouth.

“Grab me another slice?” Colby asked you, unable to move with you sitting in his lap.

“I don’t think many teams are going to make it past three or four days.” Kat thought out loud.

“I think we’ll be down to five teams by day four.” Colby agreed.

You could hear the walkie talkies going off in the tents. You ran to the tent to grab yours.

“I just want to thank everyone for participating today.” Elton continued. “We’re officially down one more team. That leaves 7 teams still in the running.”

“Holy shit.” You said, looking at Sam who was still recording.

“I bet it’s Kian.” Kat laughed.

“Maybe.” Colby nodded.

“I hope everyone left enjoys their snack prizes! Be safe! Remember to check in tonight!” Elton finished.

“Oh, no! It’s not Kian. It’s the team that didn’t have any bingos!” Sam said. “He said everyone left got snacks. That means the team that lost quit.”

“I didn’t know them.” you said, sitting the walkie talkie on the ground and sitting back on Colby’s lap.

“I didn’t either.” Colby said.

“When everyone finds out we found a lake they’re going to be pissed.” Sam laughed, remembering that you two gave your showers away.

“Yeah, one of the teams that was standing by us was super confused that you just gave your showers to Corey and Andrea.” Kat chuckled, grabbing a second slice of pizza.

“I’m shocked Corey made it this far.” You said. “After Witches forest, I assumed he peed a little every time he saw more than one or two trees at a time.”

“I’m not going to share why I think he’s made it this far on camera.” Colby laughed.

“Well, that ends our group check-in.” Sam laughed, turning the camera off.

“I think he likes Andrea.” Colby said, finishing his pizza.

“I can totally see it.” You agreed, getting up to gather the trash.

“Here.” Colby said, handing you the trash bag from last night. “We can burn the box and the rest can go in there.”

“I didn’t think about it, but I can totally see him and Andrea together.” Sam agreed after pondering for a minute.

“I can’t believe he took his shower right then and there.” Kat laughed, ripping up the pizza box to throw into the fire.

“That’s Corey.” Colby laughed. “He knew it’d get a laugh.”

“Do either of you have a watch or an alarm clock?” You asked Sam.

“We do!” He answered, reaching in the tent to grab the little battery-operated alarm clock. “It’s 3:30.”

“Anyone else want to nap for a bit?” You asked.

Colby walked up behind you and leaned his head on your shoulder. “Pleeeeeease.”

“I could use a nap, too.” Kat said.

“Sounds like a plan, then.” Sam said. “When should I set the alarm for?”

“Five?” You suggested.

“Works for me.” Sam agreed, setting the alarm.

“Remember to record another diary thing.” Colby said to Sam. “If we get them done early, the four of us can have some fun with that Jameson tonight without having to check-in drunk.”

“Good plan.” Sam laughed.

“I’m gonna go pee and I’ll meet you in the tent.” You said, kissing Colby’s cheek and grabbing the bathroom bag.

“I’m coming with you.” He said, grabbing the walkie talkie just in case.

“I can pee alone.” You laughed. “It’s daytime.”

“I won’t look, I just don’t want you going anywhere alone.” He smirked.

You sighed and walked in the direction of your bathroom spot, mumbling. “Boys.”

“I heard that!” Colby laughed.

When the two of you made it back to the tent, you kicked your shoes and jeans off and dove into your blankets.

“I think we’re doing pretty great so far.” Colby said, kicking his shoes and jeans off as well.

“I think we make a great pair.” You smiled at him.

“Now THAT I know.” He replied, grabbing your camera to record your check-in and joining you underneath the blankets. “It’s nap time, bitches.” He said, holding the camera above the two of you.

“I need a pizza nap.” You laughed.

“I think after we wake up we’re going to take a swim with Sam and Kat and then maybe play a game or two.” He said, looking over at you.

“Is it totally dorky of me to be excited about cleaning our clothes?” you asked.

“A little bit.” He laughed. “But I’m excited too. I like that we have to like, figure everything out on our own out here.”

“Yeah!” you agreed. “It’s obviously not convenient or glamorous, but it’s nice.”

“It is.” Colby agreed, leaning towards you and pressing a soft lingering kiss to your lips. “This whole thing has been very nice.”

Your cheeks turned slightly pink as you smiled up at the camera. “We’ll check back in when we go swimming.” You said, reaching up to turn the camera off and setting it on the tote.

Colby started kissing down your neck, his fingers grazing the skin underneath the bottom of your shirt. “I don’t really want to nap anymore.”

“Colby.” You laughed. “No funny business until I’ve bathed. We’re gross right now.”

Colby groaned. “Fine.” He laid on his back and pulled you to cuddle into his side. “But you’re gonna get it later.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” You snuggled into Colby, throwing your leg over his. The sound of the wind through the trees surrounding you lulling you to sleep pretty quickly.

“Y/n! Colby!” You woke up to Kat’s voice.

“I’m up!” you said, trying to sit up too quickly. “Almost up.” You said, falling back against the sleeping bag.

“Did you pack a bathing suit?” Colby mumbled, sitting up.

“I did.” You answered, sorting through your stack of clothes. “Here it is.”

“I’m just going to swim in my boxers.” Colby said, taking his shirt off.

“I’m going to toss our dirty clothes outside.” You said, adding the clothes the two of you were currently taking off to the clothes from yesterday. “Tie this?” you asked, turning your back to Colby so he could tie your bathing suit top.

“I don’t know.” He teased, pressing kisses along the back of your shoulder. “I think you should just go without it.”

“It’ll come off in the water eventually.” You laughed.

Colby tied the strings for you, leaving the tent so you could change into the bottoms. You two gathered up your toiletries and the laundry and headed towards where Kat and Sam were by the water.

“Is it cold?” you asked.

“Very.” Sam laughed, counting down from three before jumping in the water and shrieking.

“Is it really that bad?” Kat asked, recording Sam with their camera.

“When you first jump in it is.” Sam answered. “It’s not that bad, though.”

“Laundry first?” You suggested.

Sam hopped out of the water to run and grab their dirty clothes. You and Colby waded into the water, trying to get used to the cold. After you washed your clothes as well as you could, you strung the paracord rope through the pieces one by one, tying each end to a separate tree so the clothes could hang and dry. After everyone was done with that, you guys turned off the camera so you could relax before the sun went down.

You were floating on your back in the water when Colby pulled you under. “Brat!” you laughed, wiping the water out of your eyes when you resurfaced.

“Let’s move down the shore a little so we can get cleaned up.” He smiled, pulling you into a kiss.

“I don’t think getting clean is what’s really on your mind.” You laughed, swimming towards the land to grab your toiletries.

After cleaning your hair, you stripped out of your bathing suit, chucking it out of the water. You grabbed the bar soap and stood up out of the water a little bit to run the lather over your skin. You stood about waist deep. “You should let me do that.” Colby smirked, ditching his boxers. He reached out for the bar of soap you had in your hand.

You lathered your hands again so you could run them over Colby’s body, handing him the bar of soap. “I think you’re getting a tan.” You teased, cleaning the dirt and grime off of Colby’s chest, shoulders, and arms.

“We should lay out tomorrow.” He replied, his hands rubbing circles over the skin on your back. He leaned down to connect your lips in a slow, lazy kiss.

When you reached your arms around to wash his back, he pulled you tight against him, chest to chest. “I really hope he isn’t using his drone right now.” You laughed, slipping your hands down his back under the water, squeezing Colby’s ass.

He groaned, pulling you both under the water to rinse the soap from your bodies. When he stood back up, he pressed open mouth kisses down your neck. “It’s not nice to tease people, y/n.” he chuckled when he found a sensitive spot, causing you to moan. “We’ll have some fun when we get back to the tent.”

“Then let’s finish getting cleaned up.” You said, falling back in the water away from Colby.

The two of you hurried to get clean, throwing your bathing suit/boxers back on. You quickly ran your shaver over your legs, Colby asking you to get the few spots on his face that grew any hair. It was kind of cute. He pulled you into his arms after tying your bathing suit top. “Wrap your legs around my waist.” He said, his hands grabbing your ass.

“Someone feels excited.” You smiled, sucking a red mark into the skin at the base of Colby’s neck. He walked the two of you out of the water, your arms and legs tight around Colby.

Sam and Kat were sill swimming when you passed them and they didn’t pay you any mind. “Lets just throw these over the rope.” Colby said, stripping out of his boxers outside the tent.

“You’re the one walking them over naked there, then.” You laughed, stripping and handing him your bathing suit.

He laughed, looking you up and down. “Don’t worry, I don’t want anyone else catching a glimpse of this.” He pulled you into a quick kiss, his hand trailing down your side.

Colby quickly ran to the laundry line and hung up the wet clothes. When he walked into the tent, he found you curled up under the covers. He crawled into the pile of blankets laying his body on top of yours.

“Your hair faded a little bit.” You noticed, running your fingers through it.

“I kind of like it more that way, anyways.” He replied, ducking down to press open mouth kisses down your chest.

“Mmmm, me too.” You loved how physical Colby was. You lightly teased his back with your fingernails, causing goosebumps to appear.

“I want to take my time, but at the same time I just want to…” you could feel him teasing your entrance with his fingers.

“We can take our time later.” You moaned, feeling him tease your clit with his thumb.

“We’re in the middle of the woods, y/n.” He pumped two fingers in and out of you slowly, continuing to rub circles around your clit. “You can be as loud as you want.”

“But Sam and Kat.” You said, your nails digging a bit harder into Colby’s flesh.

“They don’t give a shit.” Colby smirked. “I had to listen to them fuck all the time in the TrapHouse.”

“Ooo, kinky.” You laughed, seeing Colby disappear under the blankets. “Oh, fuck.” You arched your back off of the sleeping bags.

Colby had quickly gone to work, assaulting your most sensitive area with his tongue. “Mmm” Colby groaned against you, sending shivers up your body. “You taste so good.”

You pushed the blankets back to watch Colby, the cool air hitting your body. “Jesus, Colby.” You cried out, your legs instinctively trying to close.

Colby’s hands held your knees apart as his mouth continued to push you closer to your climax. Your fingers moved to grip Colby’s hair, bucking your hips when he found that perfect spot. “Come on, y/n. I know you’re close. You’re practically shaking.” He said, increasing the pressure against you.

You cried out, your fingers tightening in Colby’s hair as you hit your orgasm. “Colby.”

He ran his tongue back through your folds, your body twitching through the aftershocks of your high. You tugged on his hair a bit, letting him know it was too much. “God, I love when you do that.” Colby looked up at you, leaving a trail of kisses up your body. He reached over to his bag and grabbed a condom.

You grabbed it from his hand, opening it and rolling it onto him. Colby leaned down to hide his face in your neck, muffling the groan that escaped him. You lined him up with your wet core and felt him slowly fill you. “I knew you were big, I did. But Jesus Christ, Colby.” You took a deep breath, feeling yourself wrapped around him.

He chuckled, his lips against your neck. “It’s not too much, is it?” He asked, terrified you were going to answer yes.

“God, no.” you replied, sliding your hands down his back so you could squeeze his ass. “Come on, Colby. Move.”

Colby moved to kiss you before pulling out and thrusting back in. Your hips moved in unison with his, encouraging him to move faster. “Y/n.” He moaned your name, ducking his head back into the crook of your neck. His teeth dragged across the sensitive skin there as his thrusts got rougher. One of your hands moved down to rub your clit as the other dug its nails into Colby’s shoulder. Colby’s breath faltered for a second, the pin prick feeling from your nails adding to his pleasure. “Harder.” He said, his thrusts losing their pace. When you felt your second climax pulse through your system, you dragged both of your hands down Colby’s back, your nails leaving angry red lines. He called out your name, filling the condom with a few clumsy thrusts. His body collapsed against yours, his twitching dick still inside of you.

You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, your fingers lazily dragging through his hair as you both caught your breath. “You’re amazing.” You blurted out, your fingers halting their movement for half a second.

Colby gently laughed. His laugh turned into a groan as he slowly pulled out of you, ditching the condom. “I could say the same thing about you.” He said, kissing your cheeks and then your lips, rolling the both of you over so that you were hovering above him.

“Let me see your back.” You said, kissing him and climbing off of him.

“It’s not that bad.” Colby said, sitting up and turning.

“Holy shit.” Eyes wide, your fingers traced over the lines.

“Actually, that does sting a little.” Colby laughed, shivering under your gentle touch.

You leaned forward leaving little kisses down the angry red marks. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” He said, turning and pulling you to sit in his lap. “I liked it. I’m probably going to ask you to do that a lot.” He laughed, his fingers wandering to tease your breasts.

“If we don’t get dressed, we’re never going to make it out of this tent.” You laughed, kissing him.

“You’re probably right.” He said, deepening the kiss.

The two of you got dressed, doing your final diary entry on the camera. You grabbed your Oreos, the bottle of whiskey, and your sports drink for chaser and went to sit by the fire. You grabbed a blanket so you could sit on the ground under the stars, setting out your snacks.

“We should play a game.” Kat said, sitting next to you on the blanket and opening the jar of peanut butter.

“Ooo, like Truth or drink?” You looked over at the boys, both of their eyes going wide.

“You sure you want to open that door?” Sam asked you, looking over at Colby.

“I’m down to play.” Kat said, looking at you.

“Oh, I’m totally in.” You replied, looking back over at the boys.

“Looks like we’re playing.” Colby laughed, moving to sit behind you, his legs on either side of you.

You grabbed an Oreo and dipped it in the peanut butter. “I hope Elton does more competitions. I like this whole prize thing.” You laughed.

“Who wants to go first?” Sam asked, grabbing a few Oreos.

“I’ll go.” You volunteered.

“Hmm…Is it true you and Colby are actually dating or are you just hooking up?” Sam asked.

“Does my boyfriend want to answer this for me?” You teased, looking back over your shoulder.

“I think you just did.” He laughed, kissing your cheek.

“I like playing this without a camera. I get to ask real questions.” Sam laughed.

“Congrats, by the way.” Kat smiled over at you two.

“Thanks.” Colby said, reaching over to grab some Oreos.

“Kat.” You moved on to the next question. “Where’s the kinkiest place you and Sam have fooled around?”

She hid her face in her hands, reaching for the whiskey. “I can’t say that!”

“I love how the only one here under 21 is taking the first shot.” Sam laughed, helping her open the bottle.

“Lemon juice. It’s just lemon juice.” You laughed.

“Ooo, that’s not too bad.” She said, reading the bottle.

“It’s one of Sam’s favorites.” Colby pointed out.

“Okay, Colby. We may have heard you two earlier…” She laughed. “When you yelled ‘harder’, what were you referring to?”

“Jesus, she’s a savage.” Sam laughed, opening the bag of popcorn.

“Can I tell them?” he asked you.

“I mean, you may as well show them.” You laughed, watching him turn and lift his shirt. “I need a shot and I didn’t even skip a question.” You said, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig.

Colby grabbed it after you were finished, taking a shot himself. “Sam…have you ever let Kat play with your ass?”

“What!?” Sam laughed, falling back on the blanket. “Oh, god. Give me the bottle.”

Colby shrugged, passing the whiskey. “I’m just curious.”

“I need to drink more before I can answer a question like that.” Sam said, taking a drink from the bottle. “Colby, do you have any fetishes?” Sam asked.

He thought on it. “I definitely have kinks, but I don’t think I’m into anything like, FETISH worthy. I mean, you saw my back.” He laughed.

“Reasonable answer.” Sam said, not fully believing him.

“Y/n.” Colby said, wrapping his arms around your middle. “What’s your weirdest hook-up story?”

“I’ve never just hooked up with someone.” You answered honestly. “I was in one other relationship and while he was super vanilla, he wasn’t weird.”

“Really?” Colby asked, a bit shocked. “I figured with the hair pulling and scratching you’d have at least one.”

“I mean, I think I scared vanilla boy away if that counts.” You busted out laughing. “I’m probably his weirdest hook-up story.”

Colby laughed. “Well good. That means you ended up here. With me.”

“Sam.” You said, thinking of a question. “How much older than you was your oldest hook-up/girlfriend?”

“She’s 27 now, so 5 years?” He answered.

“Not too bad.” You replied.

“Kat, is there anything you want to try in bed that you haven’t told me?” Sam asked, a smirk on his face.

She reached for the bottle again, promising to tell him later. “Y/n, what is your biggest kink?”

“I’ll take that.” You laughed, grabbing the bottle from her and taking a drink.

“Now I want to know.” Colby said, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“You’ll find out one day.” You teased. “Colby. Is there something YOU’VE always wanted to try in bed, but haven’t? If so, what?”

“Jameson is delicious.” He chuckled, grabbing the bottle from you and taking a swig. “Don’t worry, you’ll find out one day.” He used your words against you.

“Oh, I know.” You said cockily.

“Kat!” Colby said. “Did you and Sam do the dirty in any TrapHouse room other than his bedroom? If so, where?”

She looked at Sam, seeing him nod. “We did. The kitchen, the garage, and the pool.”

“Damn!” you laughed.

“I knew it!” Colby half yelled. “I said that was an ass print on the counter and no one believed me!”

“Now just who left the ass print is the real question.” Sam raised his eyebrows, teasing Colby.

“Oh, Jesus.” Colby laughed, hiding his face in your neck. “I ate waffles at that counter, Sam! Don’t taint my waffle eating memories!”

“I hear sausage goes great with waffles, though.” You teased, making Colby snort.

“OH, THE VISUALS!” Colby laughed, taking another drink from the bottle.

“Give me some of that.” You said, taking a drink as well.

“Okay.” Kat laughed. “Sam. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever caught Colby doing?”

Colby’s head shot up. “Oh, dear God. I don’t know if you’ve caught me doing anything weird, but I’m nervous.”

You laughed, looking at Sam. “Please tell me you’ve got something juicy.”

Sam looked at Colby. “Remember what I walked in on you doing about three weeks ago?” Sam smirked.

“You better take a drink of that Jameson, brother.” Colby raised his eyebrows.

“I want to know!” you laughed.

“I walked in his room…” Sam started.

“I can’t sit here if you’re going to tell this story.” Colby laughed, tipsily standing and walking towards the tree line.

“Hey! Don’t walk away drunk and alone.” You ran after him, pulling him into a hug. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“You’re going to laugh.” He said, pulling you into a kiss. “I was stalking your social media pages the day after I kissed you and freaked out.”

“So?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “What’s so bad about that?”

“Well, after staring at your beautiful face for about 45 minutes, I ended up with another problem and ended up…” Colby laughed, throwing his head back and yelling. “Gah! I can’t believe I’m telling you this. I ended up jerking off while scrolling through your Instagram page. Please don’t think I was being creepy. I had a fat crush on you and I remembered how soft your lips were when we kissed and it all just…”

You interrupted him, pulling his lips against yours. When you broke the kiss, you whispered in his ear. “Colby, at least half of my spank bank revolves around you.” You walked back to the blanket and sat down next to Kat. “He told me.” You laughed.

“The Instagram thing? He just told you?” Sam asked, eyes wide.

You shrugged. “It’s not that weird.”

Colby sat back down behind you, pulling you too lean against him. “So, Sam. You big bitch. What story did you tell Jake and I the other day about Kat’s birthday present to you?”

“Sam!” Kat shrieked, laughing when Sam stood up and ran. “I’m going to strangle you!” She yelled, getting up to chase him.

“What did she do?” you laughed.

“Oh, let’s just say there was a schoolgirl uniform involved.” Colby laughed.

“She shouldn’t be embarrassed. That’s tame.” You replied.

“Well aren’t you just full of interesting information tonight.” He laughed, taking another drink from the bottle and handing it to you.

PART 4

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock smut #colby brock oneshot

[tracybirds]

Fluffember Day 12 - Food

I’m not checking this over for spelling because then I will be late for work oops, but yay enjoy!! I’m hoping to get one more prompts done by the end of the month, but we shall SEE!

Fluffember prompts by @gumnut-logic :D

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“Three minutes boys,” called Grandma Tracy. “Plate ‘em up!”

John stepped away from his towering dessert, eyeing it critically as he searched for weak spots in its construction.

“Come on, come on,” muttered Gordon, unable to stop himself from opening the oven and checking the half-baked batter as though the last thirty seconds had been enough to save his brownies.

Virgil serenely drizzled his homemade berry compote with a fork, while Scott frantically searched for the sprinkles that Alan was blatantly eating out of the packet.

“Two minutes!”

“Give me those,” said Scott, snatching the sprinkles from Alan and upending them over his cupcakes.

Gordon swore as he dumped the brown, gooey mess onto three paper plates and desperately tried to mould it into an abstract sculpture of… something.

Virgil sidestepped Scott and placed his cheesecake on the table, wandering over to sit next to Kayo.

“One minute!”

Kayo whooped from the couch as Lady Penelope and Brains high-fived and began yelling out a countdown.

Scott slammed his tray down on the table and sprinkles flew everywhere, coating Virgil’s cheesecake.

“Hey,” called out Virgil indignantly, leaping to his feet.

“Sorry,” said Scott, attempting to pick the wayward sprinkles out of Virgil’s masterpiece.

“Get your fingers out of my food!”

“THIRTY SECONDS!”

John carefully lifted up his macaron tower to slowly pick his way over to the presentation table, when Gordon slammed into him from behind.

The dessert went up, John went down, and Brains broke off his countdown as he inhaled sharply and winced watching the carefully arranged macarons get crushed.

“Er,” said Gordon, looking down at an irate John, “my bad.”

John didn’t respond, opting instead to kick out at Gordon’s legs. Gordon jumped back and without a second glance, scrambled over to plonk his tray on the table.

“John, Alan, ten seconds!”

There was no need for care any longer, so John lifted up the remains of the tower and hurriedly scooped what fallen macarons he could back onto the plate and dumped the whole lot on the table. Alan, who had moved on to eating the remaining batter from Gordon’s mixing bowl, licked his fingers and then sauntered over to the table as the group yelled out the final seconds on the clock.

Reaching deep into his pocket, Alan withdrew a shiny foiled package and placed it on the table with a grin.

At once a cry of protest, intermingling with a shriek of “ZERO!!” from the delighted audience, went up from the sunken couch.

“That’s got to be a disqualification,” said Scott, gesturing wildly towards the table. “This is a baking contest, Grandma!”

“Let me confer with the appointed arbiter for the Fourth Annual Great Tracy Bake-Off,” she said gravely.

Together, she and Parker huddled and spoke in hushed voices as the elder brothers threw cushions at the youngest, his self-satisfied grin never slipping.

“It is my ‘onest h’opinion, that young Alan Tracy h’is not to be disqualified for ‘is h’actions today,” announced Parker, to resounding boos from all corners of the room. “An h’unconventional solution, to be sure, but a solution h’all the same.”

“And now the judges will confer,” announced Grandma Tracy. “Kayo, Lady Penelope, Brains, if you would.”

The three stood up together and move to the presentation table.

“I would like to try the slop first,” said Kayo solemnly. Grandma Tracy dutifully handed out Gordon’s creation and the three examined it carefully.

“It is ed-d-dible, right?” said Brains doubtfully.

“It reminds me of the Kenar fountain in Chicago,” said Lady Penelope, biting her lip.

“See, Lady P thinks it’s like some classy fountain,” said Gordon, grinning broadly at his brothers. “In the bag!”

“Lady P is biased,” muttered John, still smarting from Gordon’s destruction of his entry.

“Oh no Gordon,” said Lady Penelope, trying to hold in her giggles. “I’m afraid I’m referring to the, ah, Shit Fountain.”

Gordon’s jaw dropped and his brothers collapsed in laughter around him.

“Better luck next time,” said Virgil, thumping his shoulder solidly.

“Alright so the presentation is a bit crap,” said Gordon, trying to drown out the choked laughter around him. “But there’s still the taste test.”

“It’s not even baked,” said Scott scornfully.

“He is right,” said Grandma Tracy. “Bottoms up.”

The judges grimaced at each other and swallowed.

“The taste is not the absolute worst,” said Kayo, gritting her teeth.

“I should have to chew,” said Brains with a shudder. He raised his spoon and pointed it at Gordon. “D-d-do you hear me Gordon, I should have to chew!”

Lady Penelope sipped at her tea. “The less we say about that the better, I believe. Shall we move on to the scores?”

“I wouldn’t feed it to a dog but then, they are allergic to chocolate. 5/10.”

“Texture is an imp-imp… it’s significant for any dish. 3/10.”

“The whole event can be summed up as a terrible mistake, Gordon. I can give you the name of a good baker should the need arise. 4/10.”

“That’s not the only need that could arise,” said Gordon, waggling his eyebrows. “At least, if you were willing to make an improvement on that score?”

“Eurgh, gross,” complained Alan.

“Classy, Gordon, just classy,” said Scott looking mildly disgusted.

“L-let’s try Scott’s invention,” said Brains, looking like he wished he could evaporate on the spot.

“Yes, let’s,” said Lady Penelope, quickly lifting her plate to eye level. It didn’t quite cover the pink in her cheeks, despite the sprinkles being piled so high that you couldn’t see the cupcake underneath.

“First off, the presentation. It looks like a candy mountain,” said Kayo. “I love it.”

“I’m concerned that the sprinkle to cupcake ratio has been c-c-compromised,” said Brains. “What motivated this choice, if I mmmay ask?”

“Little brothers and a time squeeze,” said Scott promptly. “Also, the aesthetic really did appeal.”

Lady Penelope delicately extracted the cupcake from underneath the rainbow mound and bit into it.

“The peppermint essence in the icing is a wonderful touch,” she said, a smidge of white fluff and sprinkles still on her lips.

“I agree,” said Kayo. She’d scarfed down the cupcake in an impressive two mouthfuls and was determined to eat every sprinkle that remained on her plate. “This is a dessert that just keeps giving, 10/10.”

“I prefer not to excavate my food,” said Brains. “B-but it is tasty! 7/10.”

“Sophisticated flavour for adults, a delightful mess for children. 8.5/10”

“Ha! The one to beat,” said Scott, reaching out to punch his brother on the arm. “Chew on that Gordon!”

“Next up, Virgil! Beautiful looking cheesecake there!” said Kayo, grabbing her plate excitedly.

“Yes, it does look rather divine,” said Lady Penelope. “I must admit, I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Thank you, thank you all,” said Virgil, grinning broadly around the room and waving. “I did work hard on making sure the presentation was spot on.”

“Well, shall we see if it lives up to its f-f-first impression?”

There was a short silence as the three enthusiastically spooned cheesecake into their mouths.

“Oh d-d-dear,” said Brains quietly, looking distastefully down at the plate.

Lady Penelope pursed her lips together while Kayo delicately pushed the cheesecake out of her mouth with her tongue.

“Virgil,” began Lady Penelope, “that was, well, quite awful.”

“How can food look so good and taste so terrible is what I want to know,” mumbled Kayo around a mouthful of napkin as she tried to wipe traces of cheesecake of her taste buds.

“How bad can it be?” asked Gordon, nabbing the plate from Lady Penelope. He ate some of the cheesecake for himself and then pulled a face. “Okay, yeah, that’s bad.”

Virgil looked utterly crestfallen as Gordon sympathetically thumped his shoulder.

“Exactly,” said Lady Penelope. “So bad in fact, you’re getting a 4/10.”

“What?” said Gordon. ���That’s what you gave me!”

“The berry compote tasted like a berry compote. There’s points in it for that.”

“3/10,” coughed Kayo. “No explanation.”

“You’re generous,” said Brains disbelievingly. “I can’t award m-m-more than 1/10.”

“Presentation has to be worth more than that,” protested Virgil.

“Food is for eating, not l-looking prrretty.” Brains’ voice was firm and so Virgil didn’t argue, just muttered away to himself.

“Time for Alan’s creation,” said Kayo, ripping the foiled packet open and sharing around the Oreos amidst boos from the four older brothers.

“It’s dry,” said Lady Penelope, shaking her head sorrowfully.

“How could you forget the m-most important ingredient…. M-milk!” Brains looked genuinely disappointed in Alan and he squirmed a little in his seat. “4/10.”

“He’s right,” said Kayo. “This particular treat is well designed, but a little more forethought could have had this in the bag. As it stands? Only a 6/10, I’m sorry Alan.”

“Poor planning, but very addictive,” said Lady Penelope. “Pass me another, Kayo?”

Kayo threw her the packet and Lady Penelope grabbed another biscuit with a grin.

“You made me really want this,” she said, munching away happily. “So, I would be remiss in giving you any less that a 9/10.”

Alan saluted her with a wide grin and was once again pelted by cushions.

“Next up is John,” announced Lady Penelope, licking her fingers. “Presentation is a bit lacklustre, I’m afraid John.”

“I feel like I should be allowed to steal points from Gordon for that,” said John, glaring at the back of his brother’s head.

“Hey, I’ve got the least points so far,” complained Gordon.

“I’ll allow it,” said Kayo with a shrug. “John can steal 3 points from Gordon? What do you lot reckon?”

Brains and Lady Penelope nodded their agreement.

“Gordon, you’re now on nine points.”

“Kick a man while he’s down, Kayo,” said Gordon, pulling a face at her while John fist pumped behind him.

“Well then, l-let’s move on to the taste test,” said Brains, with twinkling eyes. “I think we all can agree the sabotage of the presentation was unfortunate.”

“It was an accident!” exclaimed Gordon, throwing his hands into the air. “You believe me, don’t you, John?”

“Not on your life.”

“Are they different flavours, John?” asked Lady Penelope, examining the three different colours of macarons on her plate. Kayo was enthusiastically sprinkling the sorry remains of the crushed tower onto her intact treats.

“Yes, they are,” he said proudly. “Lemon, raspberry, and orange.”

“This is orange flavoured,” said Brains, looking down at the yellow treat in confusion.

Lady Penelope picked up the pink meringue and bit into it. “Mine’s lemon.”

They both looked over at Kayo expectantly.

“I had bits of all of them,” she said with a laugh. “No problems here.”

“I’m at a bit of a loss,” said Lady Penelope. “On the one hand, these are delicious. On the other, you’ve devastated the presentation and utterly confused my senses.”

“For that alone, you deserve an 8/10,” said Brains with a laugh.

“8/10 for me too,” said Kayo. “My fingers are all sticky now and I’m not a fan.”

“I quite agree,” said Lady Penelope. “8/10.”

“So, plus the extra three gives me twenty-seven points?” asks John. “I can live with that.”

“I can live with that,” mocked Gordon. “What did you even need the extra three points for?”

“To get in front of Scott,” said John with a shrug.

“Yeah, thanks for that Kayo,” grumbled Scott.

“Anytime Scott,” said Kayo, cheerfully. “I believe that makes John our winner for the year! Over to the Master of Ceremonies, Grandma if you would.”

Grandma Tracy stood solemnly. “It is my great pleasure to announce John Glenn Tracy as the champion of the Fourth Annual Great Tracy Bake Off. Join me up here, would you John?”

John unfolded himself from the couch he was sitting on and stood next to Grandma Tracy with an amused look.

“Your prize is that you won’t have to be on dishes for the next year,”

“I don’t live here Grandma.”

“You get a framed copy of Grandma’s famous Choc Chunk Cookie recipe.”

“Where will I put that?”

“And,” she said, ignoring him, “you get the privilege of cooking us dinner once a month until the next Bake-Off event.”

“Once again, I don’t live here.”

“Then you’ll just have to come home more often,” she said, patting him on the cheek.

John was silent for a moment. “I’ve been tricked, haven’t I?”

The family burst into laughter.

“It’ll be good to see you more often, Johnny boy,” said Scott with a grin. “No more hiding away on that space station.”

John just groaned.

#thunderbirds are go #penelope creighton-ward #kayo kyrano #hiram hackenbacker #i'm assuming that's how we tag brains bc i assume brains by itself is not very helpful lol #and all the tracy boys too #fluffember 2019 #sometimes i fic #fic #brains #scott tracy #virgil tracy #john tracy #alan tracy #gordon tracy

[hollandroos]

Before I go - Part 2 | Peter x Stark!Reader

Read part 1 here

Summary: Tony Stark was always putting himself in harm’s way but one day things finally go too far. It’s a good thing Peter is there to hold you up back, right? Wrong.

Words: 2k

Warnings: Death, angst.

By three o’clock two days later, the entire world knew about the tragic passing of Tony Stark and you hated it. For some grieved the great futurist and man behind the Iron man mask who was a symbol of hope and determination, while some slacked off about everything he did wrong over the course of his time on Earth.

“Oh – Tony Stark? You mean the man that designed those explosives? It’s a good thing he’s gone.”

“He was an asshole to begin with. Glorified, put on a pedestal.”

“Maybe now Captain America will get the attention he deserves.”

While others went off about their hatred on breaking news sites, typing out their aggressive hatred in magazine articles and spitting comments on Instagram, you mourned your dad.

You mourned two am hugs down in the lab when neither of you could sleep – because Starks had the worst sleeping patterns. And you sobbed over endless take outs that resulted in bellyaches and his high blood pressure and you wept over the once everlasting feeling of safety and security that he provided. 

You wept and cried and sobbed until the rims of your eyes were raw and painfully, cherry red. You wailed until your voice was nothing more then a dull squeak and you hit smacked fists against Steves broad chest until Bruce thought you had to be sedated.

From there on out, you had felt hollow, like one of those Cadbury's Easter eggs that your father used to lay around the house on Easter for egg hunts. He did those up until the age of sixteen – they always ended with hot cross buns and scolding hot chocolates while Pepper told you both off for being up too early.

For the last two, compelling years you’d skipped that tradition and found the eggs waiting at the end of your bed, despite your protests that you were too old now. Your dad had demanded that you were never too old for chocolate and bit into his own, oreo centred chocolate bar.

“Ms Stark?” J.A.R.V.I.S’s voice rings through the walls, making you budge no more then an inch. “Ms Stark, you’ve been requested in the kitchen.” His voice that was once comforting now makes you long for the creator. The man you called home. “Captain Rogers has made your favourite meal.”

Captain Rogers. You screw your face up, feeling your cheeks stiffen due to sticky tears that’d dried against them from the night before. A shower was tempting - and you were itching to scrub the dirt and death from your body. But you didn’t want to scrub his touch from your skin just yet.

Captain Rogers was waiting for you in the kitchen. Pepper would be there too, ready to shoot you sympathetic looks and ask if you had spoken to Peter since the events that took place in outer space. She’d have to bite her tongue from asking if you were okay because she knew as well as the rest of the damn beings at the compound that you weren’t going to give a proper answer. Some snarky remark maybe, possibly a mere huff.

You’re just like your father, she always used to tell you. Just like him in every way but one.

You allowed yourself to be happy and found yourself adoring the little things. From the butterflies that’d float past your bedroom window to the warm set of arms (Peters) that’s loop around your waist at eight twenty three am when he arrived outside to take you to school. You let yourself be happy, but now you agreed that you were exactly like your father because he wasn’t happy. He was consumed by the past. Happiness wasn’t an option unless he was with you. His light.

Captain Rogers– Steve was waiting with a cold tea in one hand. Pepper was holding a coffee with two sugars. You want to know how they’re carrying on because you surely couldn’t. It wasn't necessarily that you couldn’t because if your father had taught you anything, it was that you could always keep moving forward. It was that you didn’t want to.

“Mr Rogers would like me to let you know that if you don’t get up and meet them in the kitchen then he will come to you.”

See, the AI got you there. Because you didn’t like having people in your room. Nat didn’t seem to get that memo because you’d find her sitting on the edge of your bed sometimes after school, waiting for a rundown of all the ‘tea.’ You’d thought that it was because Pepper wanted you to have more female friends around the compound before Bruce had told you that Nat was genuinely curious, and found herself wanting to know everything about your teenage life as she had missed out on her own.

But now, worse then ever, you didn’t want people coming into your room. Admittedly it didn’t smell the best and your discarded suit still lay in the corner with blood stains down the side. You didn’t know whose.

But you didn’t want to move the bag of chips that your dad had left sitting on your desk the day before the mission. Or touch his sweater that sat on the laundry pile – even now, you admit that you probably wouldn’t wash it for a while because it smelt like him still.

“I don’t want to go.” You murmur into the pillow. It’s not a second later that you wince – because your voice is so raw. Your throat was rough and simply felt like nails running down a chalkboard.

“Ms Stark, you haven’t eaten since you arrived home and your vitals tell me that you’re dehydrated.”

“You scanned me?” You ask, already suspecting the answer.

“Ms Potts asked me too.”

You want to mutter a small “Of course she did.” and combine it with a role of your eyes but all you can do it force your legs over the side of the bed, shoving the sheets away and push yourself up. The cold air hits your bare legs with such an effort you nearly give in to the goosebumps rising on your calves and the ache in your chest and bury yourself under the comforter again.

But all you can do is take the blue sweatshirt from the end of your bed and bring it over your head, sucking the warmth straight from the cotton that still smelt like school – like the shitty cafeteria lunches and Peter Parker's cologne from the time the two of you sat at the bleachers instead of going to math.

School was the last thing on your mind.

Right next to Peter Parker. And maybe you would’ve felt bad if there wasn’t a weight the size of the galaxy weighing on your chest like an anchor.

Peter who was sitting at his desk tapping his pen against the wood obnoxiously only two hours ago, counting down the minutes until it’d be socially acceptable for him to go for another walk because he’d only just been for one fifteen minutes ago and he didn’t want the neighbours to think he was weird.

He had gone on approximately fourteen walks in the last two days, because although his thoughts went wherever he went when he was outside they were drowned out by the cool, winter weather knocking against chilly pink cheeks and popsicle like noses. He dodged the newsstands that made a profit off of spreading false stories about how the man – the hero had passed and didn’t say hello to the little old lady that sold the most delicious hot dogs he’d tried in his life.

And when he regretfully made it home for the time being? Peter checked that this phone was still fully charged, never allowing it to slip past 90% in case you called. Then he’d ignore the fact that his suit was tucked away in his drawers but one sleeve was hanging out with the web shooters still attached. Taunting him. Reminding him.

For two whole days, he hadn’t received a single message or call from you and the ‘Read at 4:58’ sign from two days ago haunted him. He wanted to know that you were okay – needed to know that you had Steve and Pepper and Nat and him.

Viciously, he’d count the bruises that lined his rib cage. He’d press against the ones on his thighs and grit his teeth. Peter Parker knew pain like he knew the back of his hand and unfortunately, he had begun to welcome it. 

-

You faced the Avengers that had waited around, ignoring the searing pain in your chest that turned bitter when their eyes turned sympathetic. Surely it was due to the horrific bags beneath your eyes or the tremble of your hands. Maybe it was in the sweatshirt that you only pulled out when you had nothing else to wear or the blue and purple that highlighted the area around your eye. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to come out of your room,” Steve says, straightening up against the kitchen counter as you step in. It’s one of the rare times where he’s not wearing the red and blue suit with the shield pressed tightly against his chest. Not many saw cap like this – dressed in a fitting grey sweater and loose sweats.

You recoil at the sight of food. “You should know by now cap, I always exceed your expectations.” Picking up the plate, you assess the food before putting it down – your stomach was doing flips. “Thanks for the food but I don’t want it.”

“You need to have something.” Pepper sighs. It’s then that you realise she had been staring at you since you walked in, ocean blue eyes boring holes into you. While Steve looked comfied up, she looked her usual self. You wondered if the women had even shed a tear.

Unknown to you, she had shed bucketloads.

Shrugging your shoulders, you continue your act. “I don’t feel like anything.”

This was all a performance, a game, even. An attempt to fool them all into thinking that you were holding up a little better then you were. Like you weren’t seconds away from collapsing on the kitchen floor.

“Your dad would want you to–”

Something in you snaps and with an aching throat and burning eyes, you grimace. “My dad’s dead.”

Silence envelops the room, wrapping you all in her sickening grasp and for a moment you debate bolting back to your room and locking the doors. Running away had been the best option lately – but before you can go through with your plan, Steve coughs.

“Have you spoken to Peter? He’s called me six times today asking about you.”

You want to cackle imagining Steve trying to use his phone. He often fumbled with the buttons and still didn't understand emojis. But with rage fueling your every action you huff.

“Six times? It’s only one.”

“It’s five.” He tells you – pity evident. You hate pity. Your dad despised it too.

“I’ll call him later.” It’s an empty promise. Steve realises it, Pepper realises it and you’re glad Nat isn’t there because she’d be the one to call you out on it. “Thanks for the food but I don’t want it.”

Neither of them try to stop you as you walk out, ignoring the missing skip in your step and the lack of enthusiasm in your voice but neither could blame you for the pain that manages to seep through every word. 

And on your way out, you count every step until you get back to your room. You take the stairway instead of the elevator and lose count at one hundred and seven.

Let me know if you enjoyed it!

Everything tags: @cosmetologynerd @holland-ish @smexylemony @dej-okay@hollandsletters @ive-got-some-lies-to-tell @liz-gayllen@marvelismylifffe@lovelyh0lland @tomhollandandmarvelsworld @woah-jess@southsidefandoms@justannothermonday @its-claire-louise@sophiatomlinson23 @mockingjaygirl1221@joyfullyjenny@damnhisfaceisliketheskyatnight  @bride-of-loki-odinson @in-the-corner-coffee-please@futuremrsb-r-main @spideyyypeter @saturn-aka-six@c0prolalia @buckykinz@ashtonsbandannas @dennasaur @amyyleblanc1999@fnosidam@randomfangirl1701@maybeandperhaps @acciorinn @marvel-language @micki-smiles@justmesadgirl @converseskyline @niall2017@gavemylifetotomholland @tomuchmarvel@leslieandjensen @painted-soulss@practicallylivesonline @mischiefmanaged49 @its-the-unknownspidey@holyrose96 @for-my-mind @mlxbm @erindillon11 @captainbuckyy @shawnandhisroses @converseskyline @smitten0-0kitten @parkeroos @whileinparis @unicornio-vomita-mierdas @draqcnheartstrinq @rainyboo-posts @mikalaka @petxrpxrker @tony-starks-ego @thedaydreamingwriter @peter-quackson @kateelyse96 @lesbian-jesus-jr @wheresmyquill@elyshugh@hollanderheart @tomshufflepuff @marvelismylifffe @tomsh0lland @obsessed-fandoms @girl-in-the-chair @trashqueenbitch @dramatic-and-young @honey-honey-5644@parkerluvs @chingonaconcha @captainbuckyy @jes-sica1@tomsfireheart @Rainbow-marvel @spideysimpossiblegirl @spideys-gurl@thomasstanley-holland @mlxbm @ixchel-9275@parkerssweb @peter-parkersbb @tom-hollands-eyelash @starlightfound @vldlvj  @paradoxparker @lustfulcry  @mlxbm @musiclover1263 @justatheatredork@peterparkerscamera@fandomnerdsarecool @thequeensardine @cutesy-angst@httplayer @mischiefmanaged49 @loca-lola @softboyparkerr @desir-ae @dangerousluv1 @t-hotland @laucontrerasv @peter-parkersbb@whatdafricklefrackle @thatblondebelgiangirl @fairydustparker @they-call-me-le @jamiemac26@nephalem67 @underoos-tom @quaxon-holland@lovelyspidey @no-shxt-sherl @xlatinaaxx@starlightfound @mikexpeter @moonandstars-xo @httpmcrvel @evelyn120700@fromheroestodust@hollandfieldblurbs @ghostlypandacolorpersona@spazclaiire @curlyhairedparker @josierosie@unicornio-vomita-mierdas @icondy@euphoricholland @desir-ae @lovelyspidey @thelazypangolin@ameeravioli@ramen-tically @mellifluous-tom @mrs-webslinger @krazykiara @scottyisthatyou@@s0cial-retard @sithskywalkers @avenirectioner @cokemania147@awkwardfangirl2014 @thot–holland @tomsmelanin @tryn25 @marvelismylifffe @fratboievans @draqcnheartstrinq @mellifluous-tom @obsidiandolans @peter-parkersbb @slingingwingingspidey @darlingxholland @50shadesoflaurmani @tomhollandswh0re  @ixchel-9275 @hellaparker @vintagexquill @spidey-caps

#Peter parker #Peter Parker fanfic #Peter Parker fanfiction #Peter Parker au #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker x reader insert #Peter Parker series #Peter Parker angst #Peter Parker imagines #Peter Parker imagine #Peter Parker oneshot #peter parker x you

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Ruining KISStory: The False King of Persia, Pt. 1

Oh my, what could this be? Why, it’s another Ruining KISStory installment! I am officially back home for the rest of the semester, so I decided, what the hell, and finished this up for y’all! This has to be the most hilarious episode, and it’s also my absolute favorite, so prepare thyselves! Part 2 will be posted shortly! Hope you enjoooooy!!!

Tag list: @cosmicrealmofkissteria @ashestoashesvvi @kategwidt @retronova

[camera opens on Paul, who is sitting at a panel. A map of the world is hung up behind him. The sound of tuning violins plays in the background]

PAUL: Welcome to Ruining History! Today we’re gonna talk about the ascension of Darius the Great.

[camera pans out to the full panel. From left to right: Vinnie, Gene, Paul, Bruce, Ace]

BRUCE: Darius?

PAUL: Darius.

BRUCE: That’s a kinda modern name. I know like five Dariuses.

PAUL: Well, maybe they were inspired by this guy.

BRUCE: [shrugs] All of ‘em are pretty average. [panel laughs]

[intro and title card]

[cuts back to panel]

PAUL: You guys know anything about Darius?

BRUCE: He’s a bass player.

PAUL: [laughs slightly] Heh, no, I mean Darius the Great.

ACE: He’s a bassist and he owes me 40 bucks. [Bruce laughs]

PAUL: He was a Persian king; he was known for uniting the Persian Empire. He’s actually thought to be the greatest Persian king. Also, I should say now: this story is not really about Darius much at all, so much as the weird chain of events that led to him becoming king.

GENE: [seriously] Is Al Capone a part of this story at all?

PAUL: [snorts] Pfft, no, Gene. This is in ancient Persia. There are a lot of characters in this one, so I decided to make models as little visual aids. [reaches under the table and takes out a small figurine labeled CYRUS THE GREAT] Now we’re gonna start with this guy, named Cyrus.

ACE: Oh, that’s a kid on Andi Mack!... Not that I watch.

[screen cuts away to a title card:

CHAPTER I:

A DEAD GUY AND HIS TWO WEIRD SONS

screen then cuts to animations as Paul narrates, while traditional Middle Eastern music plays]

PAUL [voiceover]: First, there was Cyrus the Great, founder of the Achaemenian Empire, which was sort of in this region here, in Turkey, the Middle East, and spilling into Asia. Kind of a big deal. Darius just so happened to be a distant relative of Cyrus, but the king didn’t seem to care for him. As legend tells, he had a dream about the twenty-year-old Darius, in which Darius had, quote, “wings on his shoulders, the one wing overshadowing Asia and the other Europe.” Cyrus interpreted this as a sign that Darius was plotting against him.

ACE: Pretty sure every ex-girlfriend I’ve had…

BRUCE: [nods] Yeah…

ACE: … has gotten pissed at me for doin’ something bad in a dream.

GENE: [nods] I remember that happened with Shannon once.

VINNIE: Is this the time where she banished you to the couch? [Ace laughs]

GENE: [frowns] No, that was something else.

BRUCE: Can I just say, both Cyrus and Darius look like they belong in that one Lloyd-Webber musical.

PAUL: Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat?

BRUCE: Yeah, that one.

PAUL [voiceover]: But it wouldn’t really matter what Darius thought, because he was caught up in a conflict with Tomyris, the queen of the Massagetae. And after she slayed him in battle, what she did is, according to some accounts, cut his head off, then dunked it into a skin of blood like a gory Oreo, stating, “I make good my threat, and give you your fill of blood.” So… that’s it for Cyrus.

ACE: Damn!

BRUCE: What’s a skin full of blood?

PAUL: It’s like a wineskin, but with blood.

GENE and VINNIE: Ohhh.

PAUL: [picks up the Cyrus figurine] So that’s— [pulls off Cyrus’s head] —the end for Cyrus.

ACE: Oof, it came right off!

PAUL [voiceover]: Now Cyrus had two sons, Cambyses and Smerdis. Cambyses was described as, quote, “an ardent, impetuous, and self-willed boy, such as the sons of rich and powerful men are apt to become.” And Smerdis was described as… I dunno. His brother.

ACE: [bursts out laughing, as does Vinnie]

PAUL: [takes out figurines labeled CAMBYSES AND SMERDIS] So we got this guy, [holds up Cambyses] Cambyses, who’s got sort of a superior look. And Smerdis, [holds up Smerdis] who’s just sorta chill.

ACE: Me Smerdis! [panel laughs] Kinda got a Charlie Brown sorta tunic on.

PAUL: Yeah, he does. [moves Cambyses and Smerdis to be on either side of the headless Cyrus figurines] I’ll put them here with their dad.

GENE: “Oh, Papa’s head’s missing! Ha ha ha ha!”

PAUL [voiceover]: Being Cyrus’s firstborn son, Cambyses inherited the throne, and very quickly decided to invade Egypt. This made people think he was crazy; and honestly, it’s kinda fair, because he was a bit of a reckless guy. While in Egypt, for example, he asked to see their sacred bull… and then he stabbed it to death.

ACE: [bursts out laughing]

BRUCE: [laughing] Oh my god… Jesus…

ACE: That’s so funny.

VINNIE: Kind of rude. Ancient Egyptians didn’t deserve that.

PAUL: Yeah, it is rude. You show up, ask to see their sacred bull…

ACE [tapping the table] “Can I see your sacred buuuuull? I promise I won’t touch it!”

VINNIE: It would take a long time to stab a bull to death, so I bet they were just like, “Please stop stabbing our bull…”

BRUCE: [laughs] Yeah, and he’s just staring them in the eye and just— [pretends to stab. Gene laughs]

PAUL [voiceover]: Cambyses was also known for his fits of blinding rage and making rash decisions that he would later regret. Take for example, the story of Croesus. Croesus had been a close friend and counselor to Cyrus, who asked him to watch over Cambyses. With that in mind, one day Croesus decided to offer Cambyses some constructive criticism. He warned the king that he’d been treating his men cruelly. Annnnd you can probably guess what was bound to happen to him.

GENE: How so? How was he treating them cruelly?

PAUL: He was known for being really reckless. There’s one story where a guy told Cambyses that he thought he drank too much…

GENE: I’m sure it didn’t end well for that guy.

PAUL: And Cambyses went, “Okay, if that’s true, I shouldn’t be able to shoot a bow.” So he called the man’s son in, and had him stand against the wall, and he said, “If I drink too much, then I’ll probably miss this shot.” And then he shot the man’s son in the heart.

GENE: Oh…

VINNIE: The man’s son?

PAUL: Uh huh.

GENE: Oof… that’s way worse than what I was imagining. I was just imagining him being a bratty dick or something. But no, that’s worse.

PAUL: Yep.

ACE: Maybe he was aimin’ for the face, an’ he really was too drunk. [Bruce laughs]

VINNIE: [laughs] “Oh, I just meant to take out an eye.”

ACE: “Aw man, did you guys see that?!”

GENE: Or he had to play it off like that was his plan all along.

ACE: Wakes up the next morning an’ he’s like [rubs his eyes with his hands] “Ugggh, what did I do last night?” [panel laughs] “Tell me I didn’t murder anyone’s kid.”

PAUL [voiceover]: Anyway, Croesus warned the king that he’d been treating his men cruelly, and that it wasn’t a great way to keep their loyalty. Cambyses responded by telling the supportive old man that he’d always hated him. He pulled out a bow and arrow, and Croesus fled the scene.

VINNIE: Does he just have a bow and arrow on him at all times?

BRUCE: [laughing] He takes out his bow and arrow; “Where’s your son, man?” [panel laughs]

GENE: Love how this guy knew what was coming and was like, “Aw shit, it’s heart-shootin’ time! I’m gettin’ outta here!”

PAUL [voiceover]: Cambyses ordered his officers to chase after the man and kill him. They did chase after him, but knowing the mad king would likely regret having his friend killed, they instead hid Croesus away. A few days later, when, as expected, Cambyses expressed remorse over his actions, his men revealed that—surprise! Croesus was still alive! Cambyses was overjoyed. He then had those guards executed for disobeying him.

[whole panel bursts out laughing]

BRUCE: Jesus Christ!

GENE: What the fuck…

VINNIE: Literally killing the messenger!

ACE: “You’ve brought me such joy… Where’s my bow and arrow?” [panel laughs]

BRUCE: “Bring me my bow and your sons.”

PAUL [voiceover]: Anyway, back to the story. Cambyses decided to bring his brother, Smerdis, along with him to Egypt. It’s thought that Cambyses was jealous of Smerdis, and worried that if he left him alone in Persia, he might stage a coup and seize a throne. Since both brothers were away from their hometown, Cambyses left a magian in charge of keeping an eye on his palace. Magians were basically just a priestly class.

PAUL: I’ve actually got a big Persia set. [takes out a cardboard set that looks like a Persian castle]

VINNIE: Oooh, nice.

PAUL: Thank you. [takes out a figurine labeled MAGIAN and puts it in front of the Persia set]

BRUCE: Wait, so Cambyses is worried that his brother’s gonna seize the throne… so he prevents this by giving the throne to a stranger?

PAUL: I mean, I assume it was someone he trusted.

GENE: Why does—Why does the magian have red eyes? Is that a—artistic thing?

PAUL: He’s a spooky magician.

GENE: Okay.

ACE: [giggling] Or he’s just high as fuck.

GENE: [snickering] So in his free time, he’s a pothead magician.

BRUCE: All magicians are potheads.

ACE: I dunno, I always thought magicians were more cocaine guys.

PAUL: [thinks and nods] Yeah, I guess that makes sense. They’re got a lot of energy.

GENE: Not David Blaine.

ACE: Ah, yeah, that’s true.

GENE: No one’s ever had to tell David Blaine to calm down.

PAUL [voiceover]: Meanwhile, in Egypt: Cambyses had a troubling dream about Smerdis, in which he saw his brother, quote, “seated on a royal throne in Persia, his form expanded supernaturally to such a prodigious size that he touched the heavens with his head.” Fed up with Smerdis, he ordered him to skedaddle back to Persia. And then he seemed to remember why he was concerned about Smerdis being alone in Persia in the first place. So, he called upon one of his men, Prexaspes

[panel ooohs as Paul takes out a figurine labeled PREXASPES]

BRUCE: Oh wow, I didn’t know we had a stylist here!

VINNIE: That’s a great robe he’s got!

PAUL: [looks at the camera] Full disclosure: none of these drawings are historically accurate.

BRUCE: [looks at the camera] All of these drawings are historically accurate.

ACE: They might be. Prove ‘im wrong.

PAUL: Prove me wrong!

PAUL [voiceover]: Cambyses called upon one of his men, Prexaspes, to track down Smerdis and secretly assassinate him. Prexaspes would do so, and he succeeded. He returned to the king and gave him the good news: Smerdis, his one serious threat to his power, was now dead.

PAUL: Also, [laughs] I don’t know where this fits in the story, but Prexaspes was the guy whose son was killed by Cambyses.

ACE: No way?! [bursts out laughing as the rest of the panel laughs]

GENE: That’s hilarious!

VINNIE: Also [giggles] the name Prexaspes sounds like a medication of some kind.

ACE: [laughs] “Ask your doctor if Prexaspes is right for you.”

PAUL [voiceover]: Shortly after, though, Cambyses would receive more news, some rather shocking news given the circumstances. In his absence, his throne had been taken… by SMERDIS?! Yep, by Smerdis.

ACE: [looks comically shocked] The dead Smerdis?!

BRUCE: Oh shit!

PAUL: So we know have this mysterious Smerdis. [takes out a figurine identical to the Smerdis figure, except it is labeled SMERDIS(?)]

ACE: So someone,, posing as Smerdis… See this is why people get verified on Twitter.

BRUCE: [laughs and nods] I mean, yeah, you’ve got a point. [to Paul] You should put a blue check mark over the real Smerdis.

PAUL: [grins and points his finger at the Smerdis figurine. A blue Twitter checkmark appears on the head as well as a text box that says VERIFIED]

GENE: Wait a minute, did he ever consider that the guy lied about what he did?

PAUL: No, he trusts that guy.

GENE: I just think it’s odd that he immediately thinks its an imposter, instead of thinking the guy was lying.

[screen cuts away to a title card:

CHAPTER II:

TO BE SMERDIS OR NOT TO BE SMERDIS

screen then cuts to animations as Paul narrates]

PAUL [voiceover]: Cambyses was, at first, greatly confuzzled by this recent development. Until someone reminded him of an important little detail, that made it clear to him that this must have been a power grab by an opportunistic usurper. I’m gonna leave that detail a mystery for now so that you continue to watch this video…

GENE: How does no one in the kingdom know this isn’t the real Smerdis?

BRUCE: It’s the beards, man. [Ace and Vinnie laugh]

GENE: Are you sure? I feel like…

BRUCE: Nah, man, everyone’s got a beard, ya can’t tell anyone apart.

ACE: “Alright, if you’re Smerdis, what did I give you for your birthday last year?” “An urn.” “Damn, it is Smerdis!”

To be continued in Part 2!

#kiss unsolved #ruining kisstory #yeah I had to split it up into chunks this time #again #hey ryan and shane stop making your videos so dang long #i'm trying to adapt them here #anyway... #hope you enjoyed part 1! #that twist tho lol #well if you wanna know what happens you're just gonna have to read part 2 lol #that's kind of why I decided to cut it off here #also the bow and arrow running gag is hands down my favorite part of this whole thing XD #kiss au writing #my writing #thanks for reading! #stay tuned for part two!

[solange-lol]

not so typical love song - ch. 3/13

Chapter Title: Strawberries & Cigarettes 

Words: 1,741

Art by @lizzybizzyo! <3

[ one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight (coming soon)]

read on ao3

—

Over the course of the next few weeks, Nico and Blue exchanged numerous emails. Whether he was at school, at home, or anywhere in between, Nico did his best to reply as soon as possible. It even ended in his phone being confiscated a few times in a couple different classes. Nico couldn’t help it, though; every time a new email popped into his inbox there was an unfamiliar fluttering in his heart and itching in his hands to reply just to hear what Blue had to say. 

One morning Nico had forgotten to set his alarm, and in his rush to school had no time to read the most recent email from Blue, much less respond to it. He snuck out of lunch and headed for the library and their computers that afternoon. It was a risky task, considering their computers were right there in the open and anybody, including Blue himself, could walk behind him, but it was a risk Nico was willing to take. The service at their school was beyond shitty; Nico really wasn’t in the mood for waiting half an hour just for the email to load. And something about their most recent conversation had Nico’s heart racing. 

He had suggested a John Snow costume for himself before casually asking Blue what he planned on dressing up as. He knew for a fact that the Stoll brothers were once again hosting their famous Halloween party that nearly the entire school showed up to. As long as it wasn’t something stereotypical like a pirate or a ghost, there was a chance Nico might be able to at least scope out who Blue may be. It was no secret that Nico’s curiosity was growing on who was behind all the emails, but Blue was a private person and refused to give out too many details. 

Nico logged in quickly to his gmail and opened the unread notification in his inbox.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Oct 28 at 6:07 AM

Subject: Re: Halloween Costumes

I’m sure you would look great in a John Snow costume. Not just anyone can pull off that hair, but something tells me that you can. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a trick or treater. 

I’m not dressing up for Halloween though. My mom has this tradition of going to the Halloween open mic night at some bar, which leaves me stuck at home handing out candy. (Don’t worry, I still have pumpkin sweater to wear for the occasion. It’s the ugliest thing you’ll probably ever see.) 

For me, Halloween is all about the Oreos with the orange frosting in the middle. I’m not usually one to indulge in a lot of sweets, but chocolate is my downfall. And those Halloween edition Oreos are a personal favorite of mine.

-Blue

While Nico was disappointed to not get any more of a lead on who Blue was, he still felt himself smiling at the Oreo obsession. 

He typed out a response as quickly as he could, hoping to still be able to make it back to lunch so he could eat before the period was over.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Oct 28 at 12:37 PM

Subject: Re: Halloween Costumes

It’s unfortunate that you’re not dressing up, I feel like you would be someone to come up with a witty costume but it’s actually GOOD. (i.e. not the ‘holy cow’ costume I did with my friend a few years back with involved cow onesies and angel wings and halos. Never again.) At least you aren't crushing that childhood trick or treater spirit with that pumpkin sweater, which I hope one day I get to see.

And you’re not wrong about the Oreos. I hope whichever party I’m being dragged along to this weekend has them because they are freaking delicious. 

-Angel

He attached a gif of cartoon pumpkins floating down onto an Oreo cookie that was already covered in orange frosting. Just as Nico hit send, Mr. Brunner wheeled up to him.

“Hey, Nico!” Mr. Brunner said. “How are you? You’re smiling pretty big, so there must be something good going on!”

“Oh, um,” Nico cleared his throat as he quickly put the computer to sleep. “Nothing crazy. Just checking grades. I got an A on my English paper.” He actually got a B+, but he needed a coverup quick before Mr. Brunner asked any more questions. 

Thankfully, it worked. “Oh, great job!” Mr. Brunner said, placing his hand on Nico’s shoulder. “I’m glad to see you’ve been pretty happy these past few weeks.”

Nico forced a laugh. “Uh, yep. Just having a good month.”

“Good, good.” 

There was a few seconds of silence before Nico spoke again. “Anyway, uh, I need to get back to lunch. Have a good day, sir.” He turned quickly, barely catching Mr. Brunner raising an eyebrow at the formal tone. He nearly ran straight into Octavian as he rushed out the library, who just gave him a dirty look, which Nico ignored.

“Where have you been?” Reyna asked once he reaches the courtyard. The weather was nice today, not too cold, unlike the past days that month, so the school allowed students to eat outside if they chose. 

Nico dropped down in the seat next to her. “Library. Just checking grades.”

Reyna nodded, clearly not completely believing him. “Here are your burnt tots because you have horrible taste,” she said, thankfully dropping the subject and also said tater tots onto Nico’s tray.

Nico nodded in thanks, before picking the not-quite-ripe banana off his tray. “And here is your green banana because you like disgusting things,” he shot back as he handed it to her. Reyna only hummed in agreement.

Piper looked between the two of them, brow furrowed.. “You guys are weird.”

“You get used to it after a while,” Jason sighed next to them.

They continued to chatter as Will, Cecil, Lou Ellen, and the Stoll brothers slid onto the other two empty benches around their table. Nico ripped open a pack of Oreos that he had brought, which earned him a small lecture from Piper about eating dessert before he had lunch.

“Am I right, Will?” she asked the boy across the table once she’s finished.

Will just shrugged and nodded. “Sure.”

“Thank you.”

As Piper went back to her conversation with Jason and Reyna about halloween costumes, Will nudged his hand. Surprised, Nico looked up at him.

“Oreos,” Will smiled. “I love those. Halloween ones are the best.”

Nico laughed shakily, but it felt like his heart had just leapt to his throat. “Yeah, though good luck trying to get any of mine this time. I don’t give up that easy,” he managed.

“You’re in luck then,” Will said with a grin as he reached into his back pocket “—because I brought my own.” He displayed a package nearly identical to the one Nico was holding, but with orange filling rather than the classic white cream ones in Nico’s hand.

He laughed with Will, but his mind was racing. 

Did he just find Blue? 

Was is possible that he would find Blue so early on? They had only been talking for about a month, there was no way Blue would drop it easily.

And yet, part of him could hear Will’s voice echoed in some of the emails he’s received. He can imagine Will laughing at his awkward childhood stories, or blushing as he types out one of his own. They’re goofy, fun messages while still being reserved. It would fit for Will.

“Nico? Nico—” Piper waves her hand in his face, zapping him from his trance and tearing his gaze away from Will who, thankfully, was too wrapped up in a conversation with Cecil to notice him staring. “Hello? Anybody home? What’s gotten into you?” 

“Nothing, sorry. Just tired. Uh, what’s going on?” He blinked a few times, focusing back on Piper. Her brow was furrowed, but she didn’t say anything.

“Just planning the Halloween party,” Travis said from across the table, high-fiving his brother. “Our mom’s out of town for the week again, so we’re going full swing. Everybody’s invited!”

Nico just smiled at the enthusiasm. The Halloween party had been tradition since their freshman year, and it was only getting bigger as they got older. Being surrounded by a bunch of drunk kids wasn’t usually Nico’s choice of event, but this was the only party he ever really attended, so he could stand it. Once a year, at least.

“You are going, right?” Will asked. “Because I couldn’t do karaoke alone.” Nico was surprised that Will was asking him. Maybe deep down he knew something too. 

“Yeah,” Nico smiled. “Yeah, I’m going.”

---

Nico found himself watching Will in their environmental science class. It’s last period, the only class they had together. Will sat two rows over from him, and further in the back while Will sits up close to the teachers desk. 

Blue’s most recent email, which he received shortly at his lunch, plays in his head. But this time, he hears it all in Will’s voice. 

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Oct 28 at 1:21 PM

Subject: Re: Halloween Costumes

I’m glad to see we are in agreement about the Oreos, that would have been a dealbreaker for me.

On a totally different, non-cookie related note: is it weird that I have no idea what you look like but I can’t stop thinking about kissing you?

-Blue

Nico sucked in a breath, hearing those words over and over again, the test in front of him forgotten. Instead, he watched as Will’s curls bounce when he leaned forward, and Nico could just barely see a glimpse of his pink tongue dart from between his lips for just a second as he concentrated. He watched freckled, tan skin that lead from his neck and under his shirt, down his arms all the way to his palms. They danced like stars as Will scribbled in another answer.

“Nico,” the teacher called, and Nico quickly looked over to him. “Eyes on your own paper.” 

He’s about to look away when Will turned around and time seemed to stop for a moment. Will flashed a soft smile and shook his head at him. Nico smiled and rolled his eyes back, but inside, it felt like he might explode.

#solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #pjo #heros of olympus #nstls #pjo hoo big bang

[lovemesomesurveys]

Do make sure you dot your I`s when you write? Yeah. Do you know anyone with a dual citizenship? No, I don’t think so. What sports teams do you root for, if any? (Extra points for Boston fans.) None. Do you dunk your cookies in milk? They’re better dunked in coffee. ^Ever have the cookie break so you have a giant chunk in your glass? D: I use a spoon actually and it helps a lot.

What is today but yesterday’s tomorrow? What. What is one thing you wish you were better at? Adulting. Life. What is something you are confident about? That I’m not confident. ^Is it hard for you to speak positively of yourself? Yes, extremely. I don’t think highly of myself at all. Use this space to give yourself a compliment: No. What did you wear today? I’m wearing leggings and a Guardians of the Galaxy shirt. Do you have the hots for a celebrity? If so, who? Alexander Skarsgard. Have you ever been physically addicted to a substance? What? Caffeine. My body is also dependent on my pain medication, which just happens naturally after taking it for so long like I have. How do you feel about needles? Terrified. What is your favorite accent to listen to? Some British ones, some southern ones. What did you buy the last time you went shopping for clothing? I just ordered a shirt for the new Avengers movie online. I’m all about graphic T’s and also representing my favorite movies/TV shows/fandoms. What was the reason you last got dressed up? A couple years ago when my aunt and I saw Phantom of the Opera on broadway. Have you ever been the subject of cruel rumors? No. ^ What were they? Tell me about someone who makes you laugh. My brother is very funny, smart, outgoing, and driven. Do you prefer loose or form-fitting clothing? I like loose shirts now. I used to be about form fitting, but I’m about comfort more now. ^ What about on your prefered gender? Form fitting with some things like a flannel or baseball T. What do you do when you are really, really mad? Cry, mostly. Would you rather go naked than wear fur? I’d just not wear fur and wear something else, ha. Pick one: Exsanguinate or Eviscerate? What. Do medical terms make you uncomfortable? If I don’t know what it is and doctors just throw medical terms at me because it sounds scarier. And if it serious, then I definitely want to understand what it is. What is something that always makes you uncomfortable? The heat. It makes me miserable. What does your umbrella look like? I don’t have one. Have any unpleasant public transit stories to tell? I had to ride the bus in college sometimes, and there was this older man in his 40s that would always make me uncomfortable because he would hit on me, say inappropriate things, and try to ask me out numerous times even though I repeatedly told him no. It was apparently obvious to everyone but him that I was uncomfortable and at one point the bus driver even spoke to him about it. I tried riding the bus at different times than him to avoid him, but sometimes I didn’t have a choice. It was just awful. I do not miss those days at all. Are you good at teaching someone something new? Not really. I feel like I don’t explain it very well. Do you put a line through your 7`s? Sometimes. ^^ What about your Z`s? Sometimes. Have you ever gotten a 'paper cut’ from a cardboard box? (I have, it sucks!) Ugh, yes. What is your gangstah name? I don’t have one. What does 'chillin chillin’ mean, anyway? o.0 You mean, “chillin’, killin’.” Haha. Points if you know where that’s from. What is one thing that someone could do to you that is unforgivable? Harm one of my loved ones or myself. Are you able to forgive and forget? I forgive, but forgetting is another story. Do you like cold pizza? I used to. Not so much anymore. What is your favorite fruit? Bananas. What about your favorite fruit juice, if it differs from solid fruit? I don’t like juice. Do you like broccoli and cheese? :3 Yes. What about potatoes and cheese? Yes. ..Everything tastes better with cheese. …Or bacon. Fact or fiction? Cheese, yes. Bacon is disgusting. Have you had the banana creme oreos? <3 They’re godly. Omg no, but I want them. I’ve never seen those! ^ What about the mint ones? Yum. Yeah. Is life REALLY like a box of chocolates? You really don’t know what you’re gonna get, do ya. Quick! Look behind you! What do you see? My headboard, a string of lights around it, the wall, and a Swedish flag. Go ahead, tell me a secret: Nah. Have you written a letter by hand, lately? To whom? No. I couldn’t tell you the last time I’ve had written anything apart from my signature. The Red Sox owned the Yankees on opening day! Are you happy about that?<3 I don’t care about sports Toaster or toaster oven? Toaster. Roasted, fried or grilled? Depends? Do you set high expectations for yourself? I just have given up in a lot of ways, honestly. Are you afraid of failure? I am a failure. What are you most known for? I don’t know. Do you have any reputations? What are they? *shrug* Do you wear band shirts? Yeah, I have a few. ^ What band was on the last one you wore? Linkin Park. Do you own any hats? Describe them. Yes. I have a black hat that has a hole at the top for my hair to go through, a purple hat my nurse got me from her trip to Jamaica, a hat that says “California” on it and has the state flag and the bear, and I have several beanies that I don’t feel like describing. What about masks, you got any? Describe those. “We all wear masks, metaphorically speaking.”  Points if you know where that’s from, too.

Anyway, I have 2 masquerade masks.

What was the last thing to leave you speechless? I don’t know. Do your parents like your friends? If they don’t, why not? Yeah. Have you been called a bad influence? No. How do you feel about the Chinese practice of foot-binding? I was asked about this in that 5,000 question survey series. To me it sounds painful and awful, but what made it worse to me was that it said it was done to girls when they were young. I haven’t researched this, though. What about Chinese food? Love it or hate it? I like it. It’s not something I have often. Ever feel like you know someone but can’t figure out how? I do that a lot with actors on a TV show or movie. I’m always like, “wait I’ve seen them before in something else!” and then have to look them up, ha. Or they remind me of someone. Describe your favorite pair of socks. Black ankle socks. Have you experienced any life changing news, events, etc, lately? Health stuff. Do you ever spell your name wrong? No, I’m quite familiar with it by now. Do you like when people make you signs? I do. [; I haven’t seen that since the Myspace days. I remember that was a big thing. What do you daydream about most often? Everything. Random stuff. Have any self-done piercings? No. Ever pierced someone else? No. Do you get distracted easily? Sometimes. Is talking to strangers enjoyable for you, or stressful? I avoid it unless I need to for some reason. How do you feel about getting new neighbors? It’s kind of like, “ah, I hope they’re not loud and annoying.” lol. I’m an old lady. How many ceiling fans are in your home? 2. Do you tweet your life away? Join the club. Follow me! @geisteskranker I tweet or retweet stuff a few times or so a day. How do you feel about shameless self promoting? I don’t care. What are your opinions on SPAM? The canned meat, not unsolicited mail. It’s disgusting. Does anyone ever wonder if you’re drunk based on your bahavior? No. When reading words. like. this. do. you always pause after the periods? Yeah. I do. What about screaming when reading something IN ALL CAPS? I perceive it as yelling, but also as something important. Are you currently looking forward to something? Avengers: Endgame. ‘Nuff said.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

[solastia]

Sky Full Of Stars | 1

Pairing: Yoongi x Jimin

Word Count: 1,631 

Genre & Warnings:  Friends to lovers au, Angst, fluff, future smut, jealousy. 

Summary: Yoongi and Jimin spend every night together on the rooftop, stargazing and talking about their day. Yoongi is forced to confront his feelings when Jimin brings someone else to their spot. 

Notes: I just had this idea while I was watching a scene in my show and had to get it out. It’s short but the next chapter will be a little longer. I don’t anticipate this being very long. Maybe a total of 2-3 chapters. 

Min Yoongi loves to complain. 

Complaining about shit is the best. It gets everything off his chest and gives him plenty of conversation topics, which is a godsend for someone as socially anxious as him. If he ever wants to start a conversation or the one he’s already having is waning off, he’ll just pick a subject and complain to his heart's content to fill the void. 

Park Jimin loves to gossip. 

He knows everything there is to know about everyone, and if by some strange chance there is something he doesn’t know, he’s very quick to find out. 

When their powers combine, it creates animated conversations that last for hours, and it’s their favorite part of the day. 

After a long day of working their asses off, they grab a couple of beers and head up to the roof to stargaze as they share their stories for the day. Honestly, Yoongi didn’t even know half the people that Jimin gossiped about, but he considered listening a fair trade for letting him complain as he pleased, and Jimin always told the stories in a way that had Yoongi laughing until he couldn't breathe. 

Today had been an especially hard day for Yoongi. Nothing had been going right. His lyrics weren’t coming together, Bang was pressuring him like crazy, the intern brought him a hazelnut latte instead of a plain americano, and to top it all off, he saw his costume for the next event they were going to have. It was pink with clouds. Pink with clouds. He would run away and sell gum on the street before he’d wear that shit. All that had gotten him through the day was the thought of going back to the dorms and relaxing with Jimin on the roof. He would rant for a whole half hour, he decided, then let Jimin tell him about who is sleeping with who as he pleased. 

The only problem with this plan was the fact that he couldn’t find Jimin. He wasn’t answering his texts, he wasn’t in the practice room, and the only person in his room was Hoseok, who also claimed to not know where Jimin was. He was about to just give up and go to bed when he came across Seokjin coming home from the gym, sweaty and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. 

“Hey, Jin, you seen Jiminie?” Yoongi asked after waiting for him to guzzle down his water. 

“Oh, he said he was going to be on the roof if I needed him for anything,” Seokjin answered after thinking for a moment. 

Huh, that made things easier. 

Yoongi smiled genuinely for the first time that day and ignored Jin’s teasing as he grabbed the beers to run up to Jimin. 

“OH, Yoongi, wait!” Jin yelled after him, but Yoongi was too excited to stop and listen to whatever dumb thing Jin was about to tell him, so he just ran up the steps and ignored him. 

When he reached the door, he swore he heard multiple voices, but maybe Jimin was watching some of those dumb youtube videos he likes. He peered out and saw that the lights were already on and everything was set up. They’d put those fancy fairy lights all over the place at Jimin’s insistence, and Yoongi had to admit that it added a nice touch. They usually turned them off when they got serious about actually looking at the stars, but they were nice while they were stumbling around drunk. Yoongi’s addition to the area was two comfy lounge chairs, a table to keep their drinks and set up music on, and a stash of comfy blankets.

When Yoongi walked closer, the big gummy smile that he’d had disappeared. He stared in disbelief as he slowly realized Jimin was not alone. There was someone in Yoongi’s chair, wrapped in Yoongi’s blanket, drinking Yoongi’s beer. He must have made some sort of noise because Jimin turned around, smiling when he saw it was Yoongi. 

“Yoongi! You’re finally home! Come join us. You remember my friend Sungwoon, right?” Jimin chirped happily, waving for Yoongi to come closer. 

“Friend” Sungwoon had his legs wrapped up with Jimin’s and an arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him close to his side. 

“Ayyy, Yoongi, what’s up?” Sungwoon nodded and had the dopiest looking grin on his face. Yoongi jolted at the lack of respect from the little bastard. It was one thing for Jimin to leave out the honorifics, another for this brat sitting in Yoongi’s spot. Usually, he would have said something, but the utter rage that was threatening to consume him was confusing. 

Yoongi simply turned around to leave. 

“Hyung, where are you going?” Jimin’s confused and worried tone almost made him turn back around, the need to comfort Jimin nearly instinctual at this point. 

Instead, he let the door close with a very satisfying crash behind him. 

Yoongi stared up into the black void that was his ceiling from his bed. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the light when he rushed in here, just slammed and locked his door before throwing himself on the bed. 

The thing was, Yoongi himself didn’t even understand why he was so upset. Sure, the fact that his relaxation time had been invaded by an outsider was a little annoying, but not enough to warrant the temper tantrum he was basically throwing. So what was wrong with him? 

Yoongi cradled his arms behind his head and envisioned the scene again. It wasn’t so much a person being there that triggered his anger. It was the giggling with Jimin, wrapped up together like lovers on Yoongi’s chair. It was Jimin bringing someone to a place special to the two of them. Jimin with someone else besides Yoongi. Min Yoongi was fucking jealous, that’s what was wrong. Did he...like Jimin? 

“Hyung?” Three tentative taps on his door signaled Jimin’s presence outside of it. “Yoongi? I’m sorry if I did something to upset you. Can you talk to me?” 

The little rattle as Jimin tried to open the locked door sounded deafeningly loud in the silence. He could clearly picture the astounded expression on Jimin’s face as he stared down at the knob, shocked that Yoongi would lock him out. He’d never done that before, even though he had a room all to himself now. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone now. Goodnight, hyung.” Yoongi had to force himself to stay put and silent, despite the trembling voice on the other side of the door sounding damn near to tears. 

He let out a long sigh as he listened to the footsteps fade away. He knew that no matter how shitty he felt, he shouldn’t be making Jimin cry, but he had nothing in him to comfort Jimin with. The inside of his head felt like an active volcano, dripping with red rage and showering him with emotions that he must have been burying deep enough that even he didn’t know they were there. 

The more he thought about it though, the more it made sense. He’d always had a soft spot for Jimin, that much he’d known. But everything else began to make sense too. How he always sought out Jimin’s company before anyone else. How every song he wrote these days were made with Jimin’s voice in mind. And how the moment he saw Jimin wrapped up in the arms of another man, his first instinct had been to beat Sungwoon’s stupid face in for touching his Jimin. 

Jimin wasn’t his though, that was the issue here. He had no right or place to be this upset. So, he would use tonight to mope to his little emo heart’s content, then apologize to Jimin tomorrow. Maybe he’d blame it on being tired or some bullshit. 

“Yoongi, why is Jimin crying? He’s not saying anything, but I’m assuming something happened since his friend just left and he’s in his room sniffling.” Seokjin tried to open the door, only to be met with the lock as well. “Why is the door locked? What’s going on?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it, hyung.” Yoongi snapped, hoping that Jin would leave it at that and go away. 

“You can’t stay in there forever, you know.” 

“I have a stash of Oreos and bottled coffee in here that says otherwise.” 

There was blessed silence for a few moments, and Yoongi began to hope that Seokjin was giving up and would leave him in peace. 

Instead, it sounded like Jin had moved his face closer to the door so he could whisper. “Yoongi, if this is about Jimin’s friend, you know he’s just a friend, right?” 

Yoongi stared at the door in shock. Why would Jin say that? Did he know that Yoongi liked Jimin before Yoongi himself did? It sounded impossible, but he supposed if anyone would pick up on something like that, Kim Seokjin would. 

“That’s super. I’m going to bed now, hyung. Long day tomorrow.” 

Seokjin sighed, all of his frustration with Yoongi lacing the weary sound. “If you say so, Yoongi. Just remember that Jimin’s more sensitive than he likes to let on. Figure your shit out and let him know how you feel.” With that said, Jin walked away from the door, his footsteps sounding almost ominous in the nighttime silence. 

Yoongi stared back up at the ceiling wondering how his life could have gone so wrong in such a short time. He was so confused and scared and any number of emotions that were tumbling around in his overheating brain. He only knew one thing. 

Min Yoongi loves Park Jimin. 

#kkreationsnet #kpopwritingnet #kwriterskollection #btswriters #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #yoonmin #yoonmin fanfic #yoonmin fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #au #kpop #kpop fanfiction

[anxious-vigil]

No-one deserves to Fade away (Pt 6/9)

Summary: What if Virgil decided to duck out early, before the others knew him as anything other than the antagonist? How would it affect their relationships and what consequences would it have? An exploration of guilt and grief. It's mainly angst (do I write anything else? :) ) so don't read it expecting a lot of smiles. It starts after Losing my Motivation, after that, what is a canon timeline? Who's she? On Ao3 here

Triggers: Descriptions of violence, bullying, mentions of panic attacks, description of character death

Chapter 6

The next morning, three sides and Thomas have gathered to brainstorm thoughts for the next video. Claude hasn't arrived yet, but they've got a few ideas going and soon Thomas calls for a break. “We should call Claude to look over these.” Logan says. No-one calls him Anxiety. It seems like a betrayal. “Patton.” Roman smiles warmly. “Do you want to do the honours?” The moral side inhales a shaky breath and nods. Logan and Roman pull Thomas into the kitchen to fill Thomas in on the events of last night and to give Patton privacy. Also, most importantly, to fetch biscuits. Patton stands as soon as the door clicks shut. There's no point in overthinking it. Call Claude, start a conversation. He opens his mouth to say Claude's name when a strange idea hits him. That if he called for Anxiety, it might finally make it feel real. What could be a bigger sign to stop grieving for Anxiety than to call his name and have someone else appear?

It's oddly appealing. Giving himself the permission to move on like that. He sighs, without the energy to wipe away yet more tears. “Anxiety. Could you come here please?” he asks, staring at his hands. “Hey Morality.” His thoughts stop. That doesn't sound like... Claude knows his name, why would he call him Morality? Patton's head snaps up to see someone with a black hoodie and unblended eyeshadow. He screams and darkness claims him.

Thomas is arranging Oreos on a plate when he hears a scream. Plate still in hand, he sprints into the living room, stopping dead to see Virgil leaning over a limp Patton. Spots crawl across his vision and he steadies himself on the sofa. Logan and Roman crowd into the room behind him and he hears them gasp. Virgil looks up with a panicked gaze. “Why are you all so shocked? None of you faint!” He orders frantically. Patton groans on the floor and tiredly raises his head, freezing when he sees Virgil. “No.” he moans. “You're not real, I've spent too much time in the memory archives.” Virgil reaches for him, surprise clear on his face but Patton backs away, terrified. “I'm not... I'm real, I promise!” he babbles, looking over to the others. “Tell him!” “You're dead.” chokes Thomas, his thoughts numb. “I'm WHAT!” “If this is just some prank from Claude...” Logan threatens fiercely, his eyes strangely wet. “CLAUDE!!!” roars Virgil, and the other side appears swiftly in Anxiety's spot. “What did you do?” Claude smirks, looking very similar to the old Anxiety. “Taught 'em a lesson. They should've never treated us like that.” Virgil stares at him incredulously. “What did you do?” Claude shrugs unapologetically. “Told them you were dead. They appreciate you a lot more now, I made sure of that.” “What the fuck.” Virgil responds, quietly but with feeling.

“Virgil...” murmurs Thomas, convinced now that he's not going insane and his old Anxiety is actually here. Virgil turns on Claude, looking betrayed. “You told them my name?” Claude sighs. “That I am sorry for. I'm afraid I also organised our room.” Virgil looks horrified. “My room. It was organised!” “There were CD's on the floor!” “I knew where they were!”   “Virgil.” says Logan faintly. “I would really appreciate an explanation.” “Ok.” says Virgil, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Ok. So, after I got stabbed,” Roman makes a quiet noise of distress. “it was pretty hit and miss. Claude patched me up as best he could, before sending me off to my realm, the subconscious, where all that physical stuff doesn't matter so much and I could take the time to heal without worrying about Fading. But Thomas doesn't do so well without any Anxiety at all, so...” He gestures half-heartedly. “I asked Claude to step in for me.” Patton looks at the 'newest side' with wide eyes. “You told us you were the new Anxiety.” “Technically true.” shrugs Claude. “You told us Thomas' mind formed you after the old Anxiety Faded.” “Totally not true.” Claude reaches for an Oreo and Virgil smacks him. “I have a question.” Thomas raises his hand. “Shoot.” “Who... is Claude?” Virgil sighs. “I don't suppose I can tell you to table that for another day?” “No.” says Logan. “I don't think you can.” “Ok.” Virgil draws in a shaky breath and Claude rubs a hand over his back. “You can do this Virge. Remember your breathing exercises.” “Remember when Logic had rejected his emotions so fiercely and for so long that they were no longer a part of him? But Thomas still needed his emotional rationality-” “And my love of the logical mechanics behind cartoons.” interjected Thomas. “And puns!” “Yes, my love of wordplay was in there too, Patton.” Logan rolls his eyes, obviously a little uncomfortable. “Yeah, all of that stuff Logan couldn't accept about himself, formed it's own side, still based in Logic and with all his powers, but slightly separate from Logan cos he couldn't handle having it as part of himself.” “Emile Picani. He really helped some of my friends before Logan recovered enough to reabsorb him a few months later.” Thomas added. “I miss him.” Patton says, pouting. Logan pinches his nose and retorts. “He's still a part of me. He's still here.” “About that.” Thomas says. “I've been meaning to ask you if you'd be willing to play him in a new series.” Logan looks at him, evaluating. “Not... yet. Anyway, what does this all have to do with... oh.” “Oh, what? Finish your sentences Logan.” Patton shakes his head disapprovingly at the logical side. Virgil grimaced. “Yup, you've got it Logic. Claude is my... self-worth and basically anything that doesn't fit my dark persona.” “Including your good taste in music.” “Yeah, shut up Claude.” Virgil glares. “I'm still mad that you told everyone I was dead as some kind of twisted revenge.” He turns to Thomas. “He's got all my powers and shit so it should have been fine to leave him in charge while I was gone.” Claude smiles blithely. “So, uh, yeah, here's your, uh, actually I don't know what you are to Thomas? Princey's his self-worth. But, still, I present to you your Anxiety's self-esteem.” Virgil jazz-hands in Claude's direction, attempting some grand introduction but it only showcases how badly he's shaking. Thomas puts his plate of biscuits down and pulls Virgil into a hug. “It's great to have you back buddy.” Claude sneaks an Oreo but gets caught as Thomas turns to face him with Virgil still in his arms. He plays it off casually, twisting apart the biscuit in one smooth motion. “So. Emile was my emotional clarity, you are?” Claude lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Eh, I guess you could call me your strength? I'm the part of you that acknowledges your anxiety, your fears, and pushes on through. Grit or courage or whatever.” He eats half his Oreo. “Blek, strawberry.” He then proceeds to eat the other half. Thomas looks at him oddly. “Ok. It's good to meet you, as yourself, I mean.” Claude nods. “Yeah, I'll act a bit nicer from now on. I was mainly pissed at you all for letting Virgil get hurt and I knew he would let you get away with it.” Virgil flinches against Thomas. “You didn't have to do that for me.” “It's because you think like that, that I did have to. Virgil, I'm your self-esteem, I'm designed to tell you when people are treating you like shit.” “I wasn't exactly the nicest either.” Claude shakes his head wistfully. “No-one was expecting you to be. We played the part we were given.” He spreads his arms, gesturing to himself. “And look what happened.” “I'm so sorry you had to do that.” Thomas says, cradling Virgil closer. “S'not your fault.” Virgil murmurs, finally relaxing and leaning into his host. “Neither is it yours Anxiety.” Logan says, looking at them both. “Sometimes, mistakes are made by everybody and no-one is truly to blame.” He adjusts his glasses. “I, for one, would like to start attempting to rectify those mistakes. May I join you?” He steps forward and woodenly slides in under one of Thomas' arms, laying a hand on Virgil's shoulder. “Ahhhhh! Family cuddle time!” Patton squeals. “Me four!” He leaps across the room and trips into Virgil's arms. “This is the second time I've caught you today. Do I need to wrap you in bubble-wrap?” The anxious side asks dryly, only half-joking. Patton doesn't respond but buries his face in Virgil's chest, shaking slightly. “I missed you... so much. It hurt when I thought you were gone and would never be part of the family. I guess I always thought I'd have more time to make friends with you.” He whispers. Shocked, Virgil folds his arms around the crying side speechlessly. Claude has no such issues. “You've got time now.” He points out callously, picking up another Oreo and inspecting it. “Strawberry.” He mutters to himself in disgust, shoving it in his mouth whole. “Yeah!” Patton cries enthusiastically. “We should get to know you properly too! Get over here so I can hug you.” Claude blinks in surprise but makes his way around the coffee table. He examines the group hug carefully and then turns to flop back against Virgil's side, leaning on him with all his weight. He fishes his sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and slides them on before relaxing completely. “You're heavy.” complains Virgil. “Deal with it.”

Some time later, Thomas withdraws from the hug. “So we want to get to know each other better, where do we start?” The others look at each other, unsure, before Patton pipes up. “Oooh, what about a board game!” “I do enjoy Monopoly.” Claude comments, still leaning on Virgil. “Don't!” hisses Virgil, moving away and letting him fall to the floor with a crash. “That game ruins friendships.” The response is a nonchalant hum from the ground. “Yeah, but we like it.” “There's a new stratagem for it that I have been wanting to test out.” Logan says thoughtfully. “Do I even have Monopoly?” Thomas pulls open one of his cupboards and rakes out several boxes. “Risk, Trivial Pursuit, Uno... aha! It's the Florida edition but I don't expect that matters.” “Perfect! I bagsie the puppy!” Patton cries. “Very well. I shall claim the battleship.” “I'd like the shoe.” “Ugh, how are we even the same person. The thimble's clearly the best.” “Ok, I guess I'll take the car.” Thomas sets out all the pieces, cheekily setting the car ready on a Chance. Logan sternly returns it to GO. “Oh, and Roman always has the top-hat, of course.” Patton says, fishing out the piece and looking up to hand it to the other side. “Roman?”

Tag list: @ailithnight @llamaly @mistressofmayhem62 @astraastro @mantha-has-fallen @nightmarejasmine

#my writing #no one deserves to fade away p6 #sanders sides #sanders sides fics #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #angst #requiem au

[sending-the-message]

Sometimes Dreamcatchers Can Pick Up Nightmares Too. by thegeneralg

With summer winding to a close, that means exactly one thing; it's county fair season. There is nothing else quite like it. Where else can you get deep fried anything, buy a "The Savage Life Chose Me" T shirt, and be treated to the finest people watching possible?

Which was what I was doing three days ago as I found myself strolling around the paths at my local county fair. While I tend to eat healthier most of the time, this was my opportunity to splurge. I had selected the deep fried Oreos covered with powdered sugar to cheat on my diet. It was so worth it.

While strolling around in the humid weather, I amused myself by watching my fellow fair goers. All around me were vendors, tents, and food trucks with people browsing and buying at every one of them. You could browse animals and other exhibits, but as always, the best form of entertainment in any sort of public event was the other people.

There are several categories of people watching one will inevitably find at any public event, especially where alcohol is available. Allow me to give you the highlights.

You will always have plenty of the massively overweight people wearing tank tops, short shorts, and clothes designed for someone far skinnier. Bonus points if they are eating something impressively unhealthy like deep fried butter, but even more if they are wearing an ironic t shirt (Dude with the apple fritter who was rocking the No Fat Chicks shirt, I'm talking to you).

Then, you will usually have a fair number of people with bad tattoos. I don't mean the odd name in cursive on someone's wrist or something. No, think massive neck tattoo that says something charming like "Go fuck yourself."

But of course my personal favorites are those inappropriately dressed middle aged people who try to pretend they can party like they did 25 years ago. We've all seen that guy who's skin looks just like the old leather jacket he's wearing, and sadly the jacket looks like its gotten less mileage.

But he has stiff competition from the soccer mom who's wearing something far too revealing for someone her age. Which makes things incredibly awkward when she gets hammered off her Sangria and her subsequent behavior makes half the people around her wish they could be flashed by the Memory modifier thing from the Men in Black movies. Particularly her husband, who has to drive her home in the minivan with the "Proud Parent Of An Honor Student" bumper sticker. Good times, especially once they all start getting hammered and start dancing, fighting, singing, or all of the above.

As I was amusing myself by seeing who was the best fairgoer of them all, I was also looking at exhibits. One booth was selling delightfully inappropriate bumper stickers. I was sorely tempted by the "Horn Broken, Watch For Finger" one, but I decided against it.

As I was admiring the refreshing breeze that had suddenly descended upon the fair, I noticed another tent standing amidst the others. It was filled with shelves holding dreamcatchers, elaborately carved knives, and turquoise jewelry. The breeze caught some of the dreamcatchers and made them sway in the wind, like some sort of wind chime. The brightly colored feathers seemed to glide through the air. I have always found something captivating about Dreamcatchers and Native American lore.

There is something both familiar and foreign about it. Like something you are aware of, but at the same time you don't really understand the reason behind it. But you are fascinated by it all the same.

Since I had just moved to the area about two months ago, I was still getting settled. My duplex was in that sort of post moving flux where it didn't quite have the whole lived in feel yet. Something from this booth would definitely help that. I took my time browsing, looking for just the right Dreamcatcher. It was a hard choice, because they were all beautiful looking. Definitely not the cheap, touristy, flea market kind you got for someone in a gift shop. No, these all looked like they belonged in a museum.

My eyes suddenly caught the red one and I knew I just had to have it. It looked more like an ornament because as opposed to having just one circle with the web inside it, it had one large one and several lower ones dangling beneath it. It was decorated with large red feathers with peacock feathers added in between the red ones. The effect was stunning when it caught the light. Immediately snatching it up, I made my way to the cashier. A slightly overweight guy was manning it. He must have been in his early 60s and was dressed in a blue denim shirt and slacks.

"14.95," he said in a deep voice as he took my Dreamcatcher and punched in the numbers on the register. Handing him the money, he put my Dreamcatcher in a plastic bag and handed it back to me. "Good choice my boy. This one is gorgeous. I hope it serves you well," he added with a smile.

"Thanks. I know just where I am going to put it,." I replied as I was about to leave.

"That's the spirit. Have a good night, and since you bought one of those, sleep well. They always do the job well." Apparently he was one of those guys who got really into whatever he was selling. Whatever, it was definitely an improvement over those broody assholes who could barely be bothered to look up from their phone to assist you when you wanted to buy something.

"Good to hear. Thanks again." I said over my shoulder as I was walking out. When I got home, I took it out of the bag and hung the Dreamcatcher on the wall like I planned. As expected, it looked perfect there. Whenever I passed it, I couldn't help but notice how well it tied the space together. Like any new piece of furniture or decoration, you constantly notice it until it blends into the space.

Crawling into bed that night, I fell asleep immediately. But it was not exactly restful because I must have had a nightmare or something. I don't know exactly what happened. But my adrenaline was going insane and when I woke up. I was in a cold sweat and I immediately bolted up as soon as I opened my eyes.

Looking around the bedroom, I realized what happened and took a deep breath. Just a bad dream. No doubt because of the incredibly healthy food I had eaten at the fair. No wonder I was in a cold swear, my body was processing all that deep fried grease. As a kid, I struggled with night terrors and I had been going through a lot of post moving stress. Living in a new place and whatnot is always hard, so I shrugged it off and went on as normal.

The rest of my day passed by uneventfully and I forgot about what happened the night before. In fact, I was actually looking forward to a good nights sleep. When it was time for bed, I turned out the light, rolled over on my left side, and went to sleep.

While I didn't have the exact same experience I had the night before, I certainly didn't have a pleasant night's rest either. I dreamt there was an unexpected knock at my door.

"Excuse me, my car broke down can you help me?" The voice on the other side of the door said. It was a woman speaking. I went to the door and looked through the peephole. When I did, I almost shouted in shock. It was no woman on the other side of the door. Not even close.

Standing on just the other side of the door was some guy. A massive guy, well over 6 feet. But taking another look, I saw he was pretty thin. It was a weird look, the giant head with long, unkept hair on the scrawny, famished frame. And those bulbous, yellow eyes that didn't look human. The eyes were the worst. They didn't match a human face at all. Standing there, I didn't dare say a word. All I could do was stare out the peephole, silently watching and hoping he would go away. After what seemed like an eternity, he backed up and walked away.

Perhaps walking isn't quite then best word to describe it. He seemed to slouch down and stalk away, lumbering creepily down the steps. As it was leaving I noticed one last thing. His hands hand long nails. They looked almost like claws, and they were absolutely filthy looking. Like whoever was at my door had been digging in the ground or something. As he turned his back to my door and walked away, I couldn't believe what happened next.

In the blink of an eye, the stranger was gone. I don't mean the stranger started running away or something like that. I mean he just vanished into thin air. The panic that had seized ahold of me and refused to let go lessened slightly at this.

The next thing I knew, my face was pressed down into my pillow and I was panting slightly. Warily raising my head up, I wasn't sure what happened. The dream began slowly to fade the instant I woke up, becoming more like a distant memory. That was a hell of a bad dream. I hadn't had one like that in a while. Amazing what your mind will come up with isn't it? After taking a moment, I rolled out of bed.

Since this was Monday, that meant it was time for work. The routine of showering, getting dressed, and eating my usual breakfast of scrambled eggs helped push the dream out of my head. At least it did until I stepped outside my front door.

The front door to my duplex is a heavy wooden door with a deadbolt with a white screen door in front of it. Usually I pay no attention to my screen door, but today was different. During the night, some animal must have been outside because the door's screen had been torn and ripped. I could see the long, thin marks that looked like claws. Based on the scratches, something had really wanted to get inside.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

[rebeccahpedersen]

Who Really Wants To Move, Anyways?

TorontoRealtyBlog

Renovate or move?

It’s an age-old question, one that a lot of people in Toronto ask themselves, and a tough one to answer no matter how you look at it.

Renovate or move?  In a perfect world, it would be neither.  The current abode would be great, the inhabitants would be happy, and the “bother” of moving or renovating would not be necessary.

I don’t know anybody that actually likes moving, although I suppose if you were moving into a bigger, better home in a premium area, there would be no qualms.

Unless, of course, if you were me.

Throughout childhood, my parents had this weekend ritual whereby they went and looked at other people’s houses.  I didn’t quite understand it at the time, nor why they always went with this guy named “Richard.”  This went on for what seemed like my entire childhood, but since things always seem longer, bigger, or more substantial when you’re younger, perhaps it was only a short period of time.

In any event, I didn’t really understand what they were doing, but my sister informed me that they were looking to buy a home.  “Cool,” I thought, not really grasping the idea of moving.  They never did buy anything anyways.  Life went on, and they’d go see more homes with Richard thereafter, and it went on, and on.

One night in the spring of 1992, my father was out late, and when I asked where he was, my mother said, “He’s working on a house.”

Of course, I assumed this meant he was putting on a new roof or something, but it wasn’t until my sister explained, “He’s going to buy it for us, and we’re going to move,” that my heart started racing.

Move from 128 Parkhurst Boulevard?  My home of 12 years?  Never.

I don’t know if children really get anxiety, but I do believe I had it that night.  I wasn’t interested in playing Super Mario II, I didn’t want to watch Family Matters on TV, nor did I have the appetite or wherewithal to take the white icing out from in between a dozen Oreo cookies to make one, massive, disgusting cookie-sandwich.

The phone rang later that night – the home phone, back when that was a thing; back when you would answer, “Hello?” and not actually know who it was.  My Dad said, “Hey buddy,” and I asked him, “What happened?  How did it go?”

I’ll never forget the words, the tone, and the pause before he answered: “We bought it.”

I dropped the phone.  My pink phone; the one my sister handed down to me when she got her first cordless.  I dropped it right on the floor, right out of my hand, and I started to cry immediately.

My sister picked up the phone and was elated.  She was in Grade 8, ready to start high school in the fall, and the idea of moving up to Bessborough Drive, into a bigger house, was exciting.

I was curled up in the fetal position in the corner of the room, crying, one step from sucking my thumb.

I was 11-years-old, and this house was all that I ever knew.

My bedroom was tiny, the window stared out at the house next door, but it was my bedroom.  It was my domain.

Actually, I think I have a photo of that somewhere, believe it or not.

Here we go:

Yup, that’s my bedroom in 1992.

That’s a “ghetto blaster” on the bed.  And I can see my “Casio” keyboard sticking out from behind what I always thought was a massive wooden headboard, but is actually like doll furniture considering that’s a single bed.  That’s what I meant about how everything seems larger in your mind.

Anyways, that’s about 80% of my bedroom.  There was a window on the other side, a shelf above the bed, and a small closet.  It was “home.”

I didn’t want to know which house my Dad had purchased, where it was, or what it looked like.  I just knew that I didn’t want to move.

It was irrational, but so too are children.

I wrote in my “Diary” that week at school that I wanted to set my new house on fire, and Mrs. Withers wrote back in her cursive-writing comments, “Oh, that would be too bad.  Your family has purchased a very nice home.  I think you’ll enjoy it.”

A few weeks later, I was walking down Parkhurst Boulevard and from afar, I could see a sign on the lawn.

I got closer, and there it was: “FOR SALE.”

I was so angry.  I drop-kicked it, but the sign was on a swivel, and it merely swang back a little as I fell to the ground.

I took my Easton baseball bat out of my backpack; all 30-inches, 24-ounces, and swung it at the sign.  It made a huge dent, but one that only I would notice.

That weekend, we went to the “new house” at 96 Bessborough Drive, and I wasn’t impressed.

It was a huge home, and my Dad was going to renovate and add-on, but I didn’t care.  I didn’t even know where we were (ironic, since it was like 8 blocks away), the street was way too busy (even though it wasn’t), I didn’t like the look of the neighbours (even though I almost never played with the kids on Parkhurst), and the owners had a dog.  And I didn’t like dogs.

I told my Mom and Dad, “I’m not moving.”  But my Dad simply said, “Will you come visit us though?”

My sister was already making party plans for that fall, and she and her friends would ride their bikes by the new house at lunch-recess, but had never really ventured to the other side of Millwood Road.  In fact, it now dawned on me that if we moved to this house, I wouldn’t be able to walk home after school with my friends!  Fraser and Jeff both lived north of the school, as did I.  We walked home together every day after school, for years!  Chris too!  Who was I supposed to walk home with now?  Who lived down that way?  What the hell was down there anyways?

Leaside is tiny, but at 11-years-old, the idea of going in the other direction, eight blocks “thatta-way” scared the crap out of me.

And living in somebody else’s house?  That was so unappealing.

From birth, I only knew one home.  I knew every square inch of it; even under the back patio, where I would venture to find tennis balls that had made their way under the bottom step, or to find quarters that had slipped through the boards.  I knew the roof of my garage, where I almost blew off my fingers with M-80’s the year before.  I knew behind the clubhouse (we had a clubhouse, but the raccoons sort of lived there) where I was obsessed with digging.  That was my hobby, seriously.  Digging a large hole, for no reason.  Just digging.  And I had really worked on it!  It was eight feet, and I needed a ladder to get in and out!

The concept of moving was difficult to grasp, and the concept of selling our house was something else altogether.

My mother made us pack up our toys, clean our play areas, and even get rid of a lot of our clothes!

The kicker came one day when I came home and found my hole, my precious hole, had been filled in with dirt.

My mother had to do that herself, by the way.  Today, I feel awful thinking about my mother outside with a shovel for two hours, filling in a hole that, for some reason, her son dug.  But she told me, “We can’t have buyers falling into some random hole behind the garage, which, for some reason, you filled with spikes last week!”

True story.

I tried my best to hold up the sale.

I had this rubber-vomit that dated back to my “gag” days, when card tricks, flash paper, and those packs of gum with the snap-like mouse-trap thing were all the rage, and I would always make sure to come home at lunch and put the fake vomit in the front hallway so it was the first thing that buyers saw when they came in.

I could always tell when somebody had been in my room too.

My light switch was covered with my “baseball player” wallpaper; a nice touch by my mother.  And one day, the switch, and the player, were upside-down.

My Mom said, “It must have been the Cinderella’s,” which I suppose was the early-90’s term for Realtors.  I actually haven’t heard that term since.

I remember when “offers” came in on the house, and I remember my Dad arguing with Richard all the time.  I can’t imagine what it must have been like to have my Dad as a client, wow.

The house was listed at $399,000, and then $389,000, and then $379,000.  Once it was listed at $369,000, it eventually sold for $362,000.

The house we purchased was a whole other story!  $999,000, then $899,000, then $799,000, then $699,000, then $599,000, and my father bought it for $565,000.  Different market, right?

Once the house was sold, it was just a matter of waiting for D-Day.  That was what I called moving day, anyways.

The summer was our last in that house, and starting Grade 7, with an influx of kids from Bennington & Rolph now invading our quaint Bessborough, I was distracted from the September 30th move date.

Seriously.  Twenty-seven-years later, and I remember the date.

I remember my mother wanting me to “stay out of her hair,” as the saying went back then, and giving me about ten bucks in quarters to go up to Pizza Pizza and play Mortal Kombat for a couple of hours.  This was when arcade games were everywhere.

We had the world’s worst movers, and they literally put our crap anywhere in the house.  I’m talking mattresses for the bedrooms, in the basement or kitchen.  It was absurd.

It seemed to take us three months to fully unpack, and some things just stayed right in their place for more than a decade until the house was eventually sold.

Two weeks after we moved in, we went back to the old house for a “goodbye,” as the three of us kids had been pestering my mother to go back.  After we walked in, separated, and went to our own special places, my Mom found me on the floor of my room, hugging the carpet.   “Oh Lord, I knew this was a mistake,” she said, and then shuffled us back into the station wagon to pull out of the driveway for the very last time.

Over the next couple of months, it became very apparent that moving was not such a bad thing.  I had a larger bedroom, the house was bigger, the yard was bigger, and there was more space for us kids to get away from one another, and have our own time and place to spend with our friends.

It wasn’t long before I would look back and ask, “Why didn’t I want to move?”

But it’s not easy to pull the trigger, whether you’re the one buying, or you’re just a naive kid who doesn’t know any better.

You know what?

I was going to talk about this “Move vs. Renovate” article I saw on a mortgage broker news site this week, and provide a brief, one might say, “folksy” intro.

But then I felt like writing.  And sharing.  And it bodes well with my laid-back Friday theme, so it became a blog unto itself.

Here’s the article, albeit somewhat lackluster after my brief childhood fable, but enjoy!

  “Most Canadians Prefer Renovations To Moving If Given A Windfall – Survey” Mortgagebrokernews.ca

A recent survey found that most Canadians are satisfied with their current neighbourhood and would rather renovate their current home than move.

According to a poll conducted by online rate finder RateSupermarket.ca, if presented with a $50,000 windfall, 50% of Canadians prefer to stay put and renovate their existing home while 30% would choose to move.

“Given the current real estate market and tightening mortgage rules, renovating your existing home makes a lot of financial sense for many Canadians,” said Janine White, vice-president of marketplace and strategy at RateSupermarket.ca. “Our survey shows that Canadians understand and appreciate the value of their real estate investment.”

The survey also found that 40% of respondents felt that renovating will increase the value of home, and 32% reported that moving is ‘too much hassle.’ More than a quarter of respondents (28%) stated that they would stay put because they don’t think they can find a house right now within their budget.

Almost eight in 10 (78%) of respondents said that they like their current home or neighbourhood, with almost six in 10 reporting this as their top reason for staying in their home. Additionally, the RateSupermarket.ca survey indicated that rural and suburban Canadians would prefer to stay in their homes, with 54% of suburban and 59% of rural dwellers saying they’d renovate, against 44% of urbanites.

The survey also revealed a split between younger and older respondents. In fact, 43% of Canadians aged between 18 and 34 say they’d move, while only 15% of Canadians over 65 would leave their current house. Less than 20% of Canadians aged 55 and over say they’d buy a new home while 43% of millennials felt this way.

“The desire to stay put by older Canadians may stem from them being more established in their current homes,” said White. “Those in their 20s or 30s are looking to acquire some equity and build their financial portfolio, which translates to their greater willingness to move. Additionally, the added transfer tax, moving costs and general hassle of moving houses might deter some Canadians.”

  The post Who Really Wants To Move, Anyways? appeared first on Toronto Realty Blog.

Originated from https://ift.tt/2FD1qeD

[trendingnewsb]

5 Stupid Things We Need To Stop Clicking On

We are living through the final gasps of the Information Age. Experts estimate that 62 percent of all information we now receive is deliberately false, and that includes the percentage and experts I made up at the start of this sentence. The sad truth is, most of you will never have the critical thinking or research skills to know what’s real, and that will only make you more sure about the wrong things your stupid ass believes. The good news is that this article isn’t about that shit. The fake news fight is over, and stupid won. No, this article is about the dumb things we all keep falling for — even you, the genius who chose the right political side and religion.

5

Pointlessly Insane Products Are Not That At All

Last year, Tiffany & Co. started selling the Sterling Silver Tin Can, an empty can that costs $1,000. You’ll notice that this is far more than you’d normally pay for soupless garbage. To be clear, this wasn’t some tin can that once held Prince’s final green beans. It’s only a can. As an artistic statement, it was 50 years stale, and as a money-making scheme, it was somewhere between a portable diarrhea box and that same product without a lid. It’s the kind of idea that would make the other Saved By The Bell writers say, “Look, if you’re not ready to come back to work, take more time off to deal with the death of your son.” The point I’m making is that it’s hard not to comment on Tiffany’s silly can, and that’s more appealing to Tiffany & Co. than when we comment on how the people who mined their products all died of slavery.

“Darling, I was part of many souls transcending penetration to transform a utilitarian men’s room into an installment of signature Tiffany oeuvre.” — this Tiffany copywriter explaining to his wife why there are seven colors of pubic hair in his underpants

Read Next

8 Baffling Poop-Themed Toys Kids Are Lining Up To Buy

And it’s not only tin cans and Wu-Tang albums that are marketed in intentionally strange ways. Food advertisers have figured out that they can get more attention by being ridiculous than by being delicious. Remember when KFC used fried chicken as sandwich bread in the Double Down? Or when Chick-Fil-A announced that their fried chicken hated gay people with the Cajun Titty Jiggler? We all made fun of them, but they absolutely did not care. These are people turning pigeon meat and “deported” foreign nationals into nugget shapes. They’ll take any press they can get.

We need to stop doing this. It’s very possible the only conversation any of us had or will ever have about Dr. Pepper came when they released a special version of their soda for men only. We all went on Twitter to say things like, “Forbidding women from tasting Dr. Pepper Ten will only delay the discovery that it’s made from semen, not stop it completely.” We asked questions like, “Why would you make a soda for men only? Are you trying to find the perfect drink to pair with losing custody of your kids?” Or maybe you simply speculated, “Dr. Pepper Ten sounds like the refreshing treat you reach for when defending an accused rapist you haven’t met.”

SORRY LADIES, OUR CREATIVE DIRECTOR IS STILL DEALING WITH SOME CHILDHOOD TRAUMA INVOLVING PENISES.

Products should make the customer happy, not be so deliberately dumb that the customer hears about them during a Jimmy Kimmel monologue. You shouldn’t make every tenth new Oreo out of cat suppository in the desperate hope that cookie influencers tweet about it. And pizza, you especially need to get your shit together.

In 2012, a Pizza Hut employee happened upon the idea of a hot-dog-stuffed crust, quite by accident, when his manager caught him fucking a pizza and demanded an explanation. This marked the last time there would ever be a non-insane pizza invention. Today, pizza marketing is a series of deranged innovations, like a serial killer’s journey toward becoming the Minotaur. For instance, Pizza Hut created “smart” shoes that place an order for you. Aside from getting the elderly to wonder what they’re going to come up with next, what the fuck good do pizza shoes do anyone? If you have a use for ordering Pizza Hut via shoe, your foot is going to fall off from diabetes long before you get to do it a second time.

And did you know that Domino’s spent millions of dollars promoting something called “carryout insurance?” It’s what it sounds like — a financial guarantee that when your sloppy ass drops a pizza, they give you another one. Aside from getting us to mention how dumb that is, what’s the point? Was there a community of fat idiots eating pizza off the ground and demanding their representatives do something? Let’s say it’s just to set your mind at ease. Let’s pretend you’re thinking about ordering Domino’s, but decide against it because you’re always dropping pizza. Will this convince you? Of course not. You’re not even here. You were taken in the night by mad scientists, and now you’re a lump of brain tissue labelled “HISTORY’S SADDEST FUCK.”

“CARRYOUT INSURANCE!? Hey, boss? Yeah, I just found a loophole that gives me unlimited floor pizza. So what I’m saying is you can kiss my ass.“

4

All Things “Of The Year” Are Arbitrary Decisions Made By Small Teams Of Random Assholes

We are living in the darkest of times. Our current sexiest man alive looks like a rectangle who makes its living hustling milk-drinking contests.

“I’m digesting four gallons of Half & Half. Hi, I’m Blake Shelton, your sexiest man alive.”

When People magazine announced hoedown music standout Blake Shelton as the sexiest man alive while Casper Van Dien was still not dead, it hit like a bomb. Every Twitter account and Safeway express lane had a hot take on it. It wasn’t merely controversial; it was a direct challenge to what vaginal lubrication even meant. What will it do to society if passably handsome NASCAR dads are the new standard of sexy? Do we need to stop doing sit-ups? Will there be enough denim?

What will Casper Van Dien do with this boner?

You know what we should have been doing that whole time? Not giving a shit about how handsome Blake Shelton is. Don’t get me wrong, Blake Shelton is alright. His condoms probably don’t expire, and if he was arrested for sodomizing a dairy cow, you’d think “Him?” But let’s not play games. He’s not the sexiest man alive. At best, he’s “Oklahoma’s Hottest Mostly Ham DNA.” But we should remember that this isn’t some great honor decided by measuring the gonad stimulation of test subjects. “Sexiest Man Alive” is picked by four or five editors desperately trying to hang onto print media jobs, and every now and then one of them is smart enough to say, “What if we trolled everyone?” With all respect to Blake Shelton’s fuckability, if you died trying to teach a prosthetic arm how to give a handjob, the People staff would write your name up on the “Sexiest Man Alive MAYBES” board.

It’s important to keep in mind how meaningless these titles are before we get outraged. Before Donald Trump, Time gave its 2006 “Person of the Year” title to You, as in the second-person pronoun. And in 1938 they gave it to Hitler, the Donald Trump of 1938. These are meaningless choices meant to inspire terrible conversations between uninteresting people. Did you think LaTonya from Fayetteville was chosen as Jet ‘s “Beauty of the Week” because of her winning tits and smile? Wake up. It’s because her face tattoo says “Abortion is Bae.” Please, all of us, we have to stop getting outsmarted by the Jet magazines of the world.

3

It’s Not An Event When Fictional Characters Die

In 1992, DC Comics killed Superman — an invincible ventriloquist with laser eyes, frost breath, and chronosphere-bending flight speed — with a rock monster who was pretty good at punching. Despite it being the third time he had died, the country went into mourning and the story was picked up by the actual news. Which was weird, because if the media wanted to cover upsetting Superman stories, where were they when his girlfriend got turned into a pony and fucked his horse?

I think about this every day. Every day.

Why are we so obsessed with fictional deaths? Most of the time, they’re not even real in the make-believe universe in which they happen. Captain America and Batman die around 20 times a year, each in different combinations of fake-outs, resurrections, and universe reboots. If a dead guy’s best friends own a time machine and the Eye of Agamotto, you can probably hold off on making funeral plans. And if your favorite character dies on The Walking Dead, maybe don’t waste an hour watching Chris Hardwick cry until you see the body.

It should help you relax knowing that most fictional deaths are only abusive pranks, but the “real” ones are about as meaningless.

I mean, you knew there wasn’t going to be any more Firefly. This death cost us maybe two wisecracks.

Remember when Han Solo died? He was a 73-year-old laser gun fighter scheduled to get his own movie in three years. His death was both long overdue and completely inconsequential to the amount of Han Solo you will continue to see on your TV. His father-in-law, Darth Vader, was on screen for about 36 minutes before he died in 1983, and since his death, there have been more Anakin Skywalker stories than anyone could ever want. Anakin Skywalker is the Nicolas Cage of outer space. He stopped making good movies three decades ago, yet he’s still everywhere and radiating inexplicable cosmic energy.

If George R. R. Martin went on TV to announce that a meteor hit Westeros between books and everyone in A Song Of Ice And Fire is gone, how is that different from the world you’re living in now? The guy has clearly wanted to focus more on snacks for about four books. You know what’s sadder than seeing Ned Stark get his head chopped off? Watching some fragile-hearted slob go through the stages of grief in a YouTube video afterwards. Parents, if your child is filming themselves weep over a make-believe death, that’s a bigger failure than if your child is filming themselves pee into a tube sock for Patreon supporters. I mean, you can do whatever you want, but when you cry over fake people whom you can still see every day for as long as you want, you’re only sending a message to the people around you that you’re a dramatic piece of shit. But I know something that will cheer you up!

2

Being Special Is Free

That’s right, I said it.

You’re welcome.

It’s pretty easy to sell someone nothing more than the idea that they’re special or important for actual money. For example, somewhere right now, a Todd is looking through a rack of keychains to see if they have one with his name on it. “I hope they have a Todd,” he might announce as he thumbs through dusty garbage. “They do! And it’s spelled right!��� So Todd will buy it, a cute reminder of the worst store in the least interesting part of a city he once visited, and it will never occur to him that an Indonesian factory gambled and won that a completely shitty Todd would one day pay money to remind himself of his own name. This next part is way off-topic, but not even the Indonesians could have foreseen that this keychain would one day be used to frame Todd …

… for Toddslaughter.

Back to the point I was trying to make: We are all susceptible to this crap. Coke had its first sales increase in more than a decade when it introduced the idea of adding the customers’ stupid fucking names to their cans and bottles. And the internet has been haunted by ego-stroking personality quizzes and IQ tests since before we used it to pay girls peeing into tube socks. We are so desperate to be told we’re special that we will suspend all disbelief and critical thinking to hear it. You should know that answering a few simple personality questions does not make you the coolest ninja turtle, and you shouldn’t trust the scores of an IQ test that you watched yourself cheat on which also advertises free Slavic women and four new pounds of dick girth.

One of my favorite examples of this, and favorite things in general, is an online community called Intertel — “An International Society of the Intellectually Gifted.” It’s very difficult to get in. You can only join if you score in the top 1 percent of any self-administered intelligence test and mail in a $10 application fee. You may have considered that this in fact checks to see whether you’re stupid enough to mail in a test with a 98 percent score or less and nothing else. If you get accepted, you then pay a $39 annual fee to be a part of a genius club for people who are very specifically not. What do you get? I’m so glad you asked. For the annual fee, you get unlimited pity and the right to post a photo and bio about your unusually gullible self. It has created an avalanche of unearned ego that looks like a late ’90s Casper Van Dien fan page whose webmaster went mysteriously missing.

Image courtesy of the estate of the Casper Van Dien Fan Page & Genius Community webmaster.

OK, no, but seriously, this next image is a real screenshot from the Inertel (An International Society of the Intellectually Gifted) website. This is a real person who really thinks he’s in the 1 percent of intellectual elites, and this is his real profile.

I didn’t doctor this. This is what an actual genius named BigJim369 pays $39 a year to display. Fuck! This world is magic and you get to live in it!

Another business that exploits your love of yourself on a massive, sprawling scale is the pop-up museum industry. The name implies that there are things to do or learn inside them, but they’re more like oversized photo booths than art galleries. For instance, if you take a trip to the zany, world-famous Museum of Ice Cream, you will learn zero to one things about ice cream and eat ice cream worth $45 less than the entry ticket. What you will do is wait in line to take photos of yourself next to what you’d describe in any other context as “nothing of interest.” So to be clear, we are so self-obsessed that it’s now an effective business model to charge us money to take pictures of ourselves so we can promote you online.

You didn’t fool ME, Museum of Ice Cream. But my family loved it. Five stars.

1

Stop Making It Seem Like There Are Nazis

OK, so the world has enough idiot racists to elect Donald Trump president, but not all of those voters were full white supremacists. Some of them were simply too religious to know when someone is lying or too old to change their mind about politics. And yes, a troubling number of them were Nazis. But in a lot of ways, most things are fine and the world isn’t as awful as you think.

You’re welcome again.

Impossibly shitty people, like the Trump supporters who took that Garfield mug personally, seem like they’re everywhere. A lot of that is our fault — the decent people making fun of them. They use us to amplify their voices, like Han Solo (R.I.P.) convincing a hallway of Stormtroopers that he’s way more people than he actually is. Every few minutes, a website publishes a variation on the article “These Miserable Fucks Said Something Racist About A Thing And Got Annihilated By Twitter.” They’re fun and vaguely heroic, but if you read more than one, you’ll start to see that they all share the same content. It’s the same three or four racist tweets quoted in every article, tweeted by the same three or four racists who “attacked” the Star Wars with the Asian girl and “staged boycotts” of the all-lady Ghostbusters. We need to stop treating these three or four people like they’re a threat to anything other than skewing PornHub’s algorithm to favor mother-son incest.

BREAKING NEWS: Local high school’s least-likable prick still making quite a spectacle out his irrelevant awfulness.

Here’s a reassuring fact: A study of Reddit found that 1 percent of communities were responsible for 74 percent of all conflict. We are taking the intentionally ignorant comments of a Kia’s worth of debate club hobbyists and pretending they’re a tidal wave of hate we must stand together against. The “alt-right” movement is 30 boys too cranky to date and too slow to learn Dungeons & Dragons. Their supporters are a toxic group of gamers who will disappear once they turn 17, and their media outlet is a cable network whose entire audience will be dead in two more flu seasons. All these people want is for the other side to get upset, so if we stop writing thinkpieces about the rise of dapper white nationalism and focus more on how liberals hate suicide cults, we can be rid of them almost immediately.

BREAKING NEWS: C-word who only tweets C-wordy antisemitic things DOES!

Ann Coulter is a good example. She’s the skeletal remains of antique intolerance, and she has about as much cultural influence as Corey Feldman’s band, Oral Thrush and the Yeast 2000s. Has she ever done anything other than hiss wrong things at impatient TV personalities or pretend that clinical antisemitism is antisemitic comedy? She only seems like she is a thing because 10,000 of us dunk on the bitch every time she blames her oral thrush on the Jews. Without all of us explaining to each other how wrong she is, Coulter would just be wandering through Home Depot to see if there are any white employees she can ask about the toilet safety rails. And soon she would be hatching spider eggs in her mouth while her parakeet watched her body rot. “Rawk! The Jews are at it again!” it would repeat to her undiscovered corpse. “The Jews are at it again!”

We all seem to get how dumb it is when the news says “teens” are doing a comically apeshit thing like human centipede parties or detergent eating. Why can’t we use those same giant brains to figure out how one Nazi nerd looking for attention isn’t “the Right”? I know it’s tough to resist trolls, but Kim Kardashian owning all the world’s money should have taught you that there is virtue in shutting the fuck up about some things. We need to stay strong not in the battle against the “alt-right,” but in the battle to ignore them. The next time you see another column about how women won’t date conservative men, leave it alone. Let those dickless Nazis keep writing versions of that article into the empty void until they learn evil causes women to dry up. And the next time someone on your Facebook thread defends their Second Amendment rights after a school shooting, don’t validate their child murder fandom with attention. Move your cursor to the left and click on their mother’s profile. Pose as Blake Shelton, win her moist trust, and quietly destroy that child-murderer’s family. Every one of us can shut up and make a difference.

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Who Really Wants To Move, Anyways?

TorontoRealtyBlog

Renovate or move?

It’s an age-old question, one that a lot of people in Toronto ask themselves, and a tough one to answer no matter how you look at it.

Renovate or move?  In a perfect world, it would be neither.  The current abode would be great, the inhabitants would be happy, and the “bother” of moving or renovating would not be necessary.

I don’t know anybody that actually likes moving, although I suppose if you were moving into a bigger, better home in a premium area, there would be no qualms.

Unless, of course, if you were me.

Throughout childhood, my parents had this weekend ritual whereby they went and looked at other people’s houses.  I didn’t quite understand it at the time, nor why they always went with this guy named “Richard.”  This went on for what seemed like my entire childhood, but since things always seem longer, bigger, or more substantial when you’re younger, perhaps it was only a short period of time.

In any event, I didn’t really understand what they were doing, but my sister informed me that they were looking to buy a home.  “Cool,” I thought, not really grasping the idea of moving.  They never did buy anything anyways.  Life went on, and they’d go see more homes with Richard thereafter, and it went on, and on.

One night in the spring of 1992, my father was out late, and when I asked where he was, my mother said, “He’s working on a house.”

Of course, I assumed this meant he was putting on a new roof or something, but it wasn’t until my sister explained, “He’s going to buy it for us, and we’re going to move,” that my heart started racing.

Move from 128 Parkhurst Boulevard?  My home of 12 years?  Never.

I don’t know if children really get anxiety, but I do believe I had it that night.  I wasn’t interested in playing Super Mario II, I didn’t want to watch Family Matters on TV, nor did I have the appetite or wherewithal to take the white icing out from in between a dozen Oreo cookies to make one, massive, disgusting cookie-sandwich.

The phone rang later that night – the home phone, back when that was a thing; back when you would answer, “Hello?” and not actually know who it was.  My Dad said, “Hey buddy,” and I asked him, “What happened?  How did it go?”

I’ll never forget the words, the tone, and the pause before he answered: “We bought it.”

I dropped the phone.  My pink phone; the one my sister handed down to me when she got her first cordless.  I dropped it right on the floor, right out of my hand, and I started to cry immediately.

My sister picked up the phone and was elated.  She was in Grade 8, ready to start high school in the fall, and the idea of moving up to Bessborough Drive, into a bigger house, was exciting.

I was curled up in the fetal position in the corner of the room, crying, one step from sucking my thumb.

I was 11-years-old, and this house was all that I ever knew.

My bedroom was tiny, the window stared out at the house next door, but it was my bedroom.  It was my domain.

Actually, I think I have a photo of that somewhere, believe it or not.

Here we go:

Yup, that’s my bedroom in 1992.

That’s a “ghetto blaster” on the bed.  And I can see my “Casio” keyboard sticking out from behind what I always thought was a massive wooden headboard, but is actually like doll furniture considering that’s a single bed.  That’s what I meant about how everything seems larger in your mind.

Anyways, that’s about 80% of my bedroom.  There was a window on the other side, a shelf above the bed, and a small closet.  It was “home.”

I didn’t want to know which house my Dad had purchased, where it was, or what it looked like.  I just knew that I didn’t want to move.

It was irrational, but so too are children.

I wrote in my “Diary” that week at school that I wanted to set my new house on fire, and Mrs. Withers wrote back in her cursive-writing comments, “Oh, that would be too bad.  Your family has purchased a very nice home.  I think you’ll enjoy it.”

A few weeks later, I was walking down Parkhurst Boulevard and from afar, I could see a sign on the lawn.

I got closer, and there it was: “FOR SALE.”

I was so angry.  I drop-kicked it, but the sign was on a swivel, and it merely swang back a little as I fell to the ground.

I took my Easton baseball bat out of my backpack; all 30-inches, 24-ounces, and swung it at the sign.  It made a huge dent, but one that only I would notice.

That weekend, we went to the “new house” at 96 Bessborough Drive, and I wasn’t impressed.

It was a huge home, and my Dad was going to renovate and add-on, but I didn’t care.  I didn’t even know where we were (ironic, since it was like 8 blocks away), the street was way too busy (even though it wasn’t), I didn’t like the look of the neighbours (even though I almost never played with the kids on Parkhurst), and the owners had a dog.  And I didn’t like dogs.

I told my Mom and Dad, “I’m not moving.”  But my Dad simply said, “Will you come visit us though?”

My sister was already making party plans for that fall, and she and her friends would ride their bikes by the new house at lunch-recess, but had never really ventured to the other side of Millwood Road.  In fact, it now dawned on me that if we moved to this house, I wouldn’t be able to walk home after school with my friends!  Fraser and Jeff both lived north of the school, as did I.  We walked home together every day after school, for years!  Chris too!  Who was I supposed to walk home with now?  Who lived down that way?  What the hell was down there anyways?

Leaside is tiny, but at 11-years-old, the idea of going in the other direction, eight blocks “thatta-way” scared the crap out of me.

And living in somebody else’s house?  That was so unappealing.

From birth, I only knew one home.  I knew every square inch of it; even under the back patio, where I would venture to find tennis balls that had made their way under the bottom step, or to find quarters that had slipped through the boards.  I knew the roof of my garage, where I almost blew off my fingers with M-80’s the year before.  I knew behind the clubhouse (we had a clubhouse, but the raccoons sort of lived there) where I was obsessed with digging.  That was my hobby, seriously.  Digging a large hole, for no reason.  Just digging.  And I had really worked on it!  It was eight feet, and I needed a ladder to get in and out!

The concept of moving was difficult to grasp, and the concept of selling our house was something else altogether.

My mother made us pack up our toys, clean our play areas, and even get rid of a lot of our clothes!

The kicker came one day when I came home and found my hole, my precious hole, had been filled in with dirt.

My mother had to do that herself, by the way.  Today, I feel awful thinking about my mother outside with a shovel for two hours, filling in a hole that, for some reason, her son dug.  But she told me, “We can’t have buyers falling into some random hole behind the garage, which, for some reason, you filled with spikes last week!”

True story.

I tried my best to hold up the sale.

I had this rubber-vomit that dated back to my “gag” days, when card tricks, flash paper, and those packs of gum with the snap-like mouse-trap thing were all the rage, and I would always make sure to come home at lunch and put the fake vomit in the front hallway so it was the first thing that buyers saw when they came in.

I could always tell when somebody had been in my room too.

My light switch was covered with my “baseball player” wallpaper; a nice touch by my mother.  And one day, the switch, and the player, were upside-down.

My Mom said, “It must have been the Cinderella’s,” which I suppose was the early-90’s term for Realtors.  I actually haven’t heard that term since.

I remember when “offers” came in on the house, and I remember my Dad arguing with Richard all the time.  I can’t imagine what it must have been like to have my Dad as a client, wow.

The house was listed at $399,000, and then $389,000, and then $379,000.  Once it was listed at $369,000, it eventually sold for $362,000.

The house we purchased was a whole other story!  $999,000, then $899,000, then $799,000, then $699,000, then $599,000, and my father bought it for $565,000.  Different market, right?

Once the house was sold, it was just a matter of waiting for D-Day.  That was what I called moving day, anyways.

The summer was our last in that house, and starting Grade 7, with an influx of kids from Bennington & Rolph now invading our quaint Bessborough, I was distracted from the September 30th move date.

Seriously.  Twenty-seven-years later, and I remember the date.

I remember my mother wanting me to “stay out of her hair,” as the saying went back then, and giving me about ten bucks in quarters to go up to Pizza Pizza and play Mortal Kombat for a couple of hours.  This was when arcade games were everywhere.

We had the world’s worst movers, and they literally put our crap anywhere in the house.  I’m talking mattresses for the bedrooms, in the basement or kitchen.  It was absurd.

It seemed to take us three months to fully unpack, and some things just stayed right in their place for more than a decade until the house was eventually sold.

Two weeks after we moved in, we went back to the old house for a “goodbye,” as the three of us kids had been pestering my mother to go back.  After we walked in, separated, and went to our own special places, my Mom found me on the floor of my room, hugging the carpet.   “Oh Lord, I knew this was a mistake,” she said, and then shuffled us back into the station wagon to pull out of the driveway for the very last time.

Over the next couple of months, it became very apparent that moving was not such a bad thing.  I had a larger bedroom, the house was bigger, the yard was bigger, and there was more space for us kids to get away from one another, and have our own time and place to spend with our friends.

It wasn’t long before I would look back and ask, “Why didn’t I want to move?”

But it’s not easy to pull the trigger, whether you’re the one buying, or you’re just a naive kid who doesn’t know any better.

You know what?

I was going to talk about this “Move vs. Renovate” article I saw on a mortgage broker news site this week, and provide a brief, one might say, “folksy” intro.

But then I felt like writing.  And sharing.  And it bodes well with my laid-back Friday theme, so it became a blog unto itself.

Here’s the article, albeit somewhat lackluster after my brief childhood fable, but enjoy!

  “Most Canadians Prefer Renovations To Moving If Given A Windfall – Survey” Mortgagebrokernews.ca

A recent survey found that most Canadians are satisfied with their current neighbourhood and would rather renovate their current home than move.

According to a poll conducted by online rate finder RateSupermarket.ca, if presented with a $50,000 windfall, 50% of Canadians prefer to stay put and renovate their existing home while 30% would choose to move.

“Given the current real estate market and tightening mortgage rules, renovating your existing home makes a lot of financial sense for many Canadians,” said Janine White, vice-president of marketplace and strategy at RateSupermarket.ca. “Our survey shows that Canadians understand and appreciate the value of their real estate investment.”

The survey also found that 40% of respondents felt that renovating will increase the value of home, and 32% reported that moving is ‘too much hassle.’ More than a quarter of respondents (28%) stated that they would stay put because they don’t think they can find a house right now within their budget.

Almost eight in 10 (78%) of respondents said that they like their current home or neighbourhood, with almost six in 10 reporting this as their top reason for staying in their home. Additionally, the RateSupermarket.ca survey indicated that rural and suburban Canadians would prefer to stay in their homes, with 54% of suburban and 59% of rural dwellers saying they’d renovate, against 44% of urbanites.

The survey also revealed a split between younger and older respondents. In fact, 43% of Canadians aged between 18 and 34 say they’d move, while only 15% of Canadians over 65 would leave their current house. Less than 20% of Canadians aged 55 and over say they’d buy a new home while 43% of millennials felt this way.

“The desire to stay put by older Canadians may stem from them being more established in their current homes,” said White. “Those in their 20s or 30s are looking to acquire some equity and build their financial portfolio, which translates to their greater willingness to move. Additionally, the added transfer tax, moving costs and general hassle of moving houses might deter some Canadians.”

  The post Who Really Wants To Move, Anyways? appeared first on Toronto Realty Blog.

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