#your local homosexual with no chill

[straighttohellbuddy]

hey do you mind if i quote one of your posts in an essay on aromanticism in lovejoy's music? im still not sure how long it'll take or if i'll publish it at all but if i do i wanna make sure youre fine with it

Yes that's absolutely fine, it's very kind and very cool of you to include me! Thank you! And if/when it's published, I'd really love to get to read it, I'd be fascinated to read an essay on that! 💖💖💖

#your local homosexual with no chill #💖💖💖

[butterfrogmantis]

// Couple of suggestive pick up lines on doodle 5 djdk

Tuffy Foley was born along the coastal area of the Long Island section of NY, in a slightly run down neighbourhood. Once rumoured to have been a famous smugglers area for pirates, the summers were often overcrowded with tourists and the winter’s barren of much company. Tuffy was raised by his aunt and uncle, due to his biological parents having lost custody of him as a toddler. His aunt and uncle were kind folk and Tuffy trusted them whole heartedly – the same could not be said for the kids his age around the area. Tuffy was much younger, and much smaller than most of them, so he quickly became an easy target to their constant taunts and physical jabs.

Tuffy endured the black eyes and taste of gravel for far too long before someone stepped up to them. But someone did – Hefty Ortiz, a slightly older and braver kid than Tuffy, who’d had enough of the peers his age picking on the ‘poor guy’ and told them to back off. Hefty was not a kid to be messed with either, he was strong enough to easily hold his ground and the bullies knew he didn’t bluff. For Tuffy, he had found a new idol that day, and was forever in his debt.

Tuffy meet’s Hefty’s mom’s. X and Y Ortiz, a lesbian couple who had been raising their son into a compassionate and strong minded young man. X worked as the local sports coach, whilst Y was a social worker, so it was easy to see where Hefty’s strength and empathy came from. This was also Tuffy’s first positive representation of homosexuality – Tuffy had likely endured bigoted slurs from the bullies, despite being too young to know what the future had in store for him, and being around the Ortiz family has likely saved him from years of further denial.

Teenage Hefty discovered girls, Teenage Tuffy discovered Hefty. I mean, kid Tuffy looked up to Hefty but teenage Tuffy worshipped the very ground he walked on. It was an almost unhealthy obsession, and unfortunely this did start to strain his relationship with Hefty who found him to be broaching into slightly unhealthy co-dependency and imitation behaviour.

Hefty travels to Belgium. Tuffy, still lost in a fantasy parasocial relationship with him, follows. Ultimately, despite their adventures, his affections are never returned and it becomes obvious to Tuffy they never will.

A heartbroken but bitter Tuffy turns to … more unwarranted approaches and with his new found self-appointed freedom at no longer pursuing Hefty exclusively, Tuffy moves on … to his best friend, Handy Turner. When that doesn’t work, Tuffy decided to try a new outlook and attempts to attract the attention of a much older man, Wooly Sherman. That also does not work. Tuffy sulks and decides to give up for now. 

A few years later, Marco Spaziale is back in the village. His first trip away since the ‘incident’ in fact and what he’d really like now is a quiet night in the pub and a pint to relax. What he GETS is a sulking Tuffy who’s pissed about another failed rizz attempt. Marco is … bemused but annoyed. They exchange some banter and Marco tells some bone-chilling sea stories. Well, that gets Tuffy’s attention. Actually now that he thinks about it this Marco fella is sort of handsome in a very ruggish and badass way – Just Tuffy’s type. Those scars are pretty cool. Tuffy’s into it. He’s found a new object of his affections.

Marco suspects there may be a distant link between Tuffy and the weird skeleton dude walking around. Tuffy has concerns of his own.

It took some time but Marco warms back to Tuffy. He kind of originally viewed him as a sad little puppy, but like sad little puppies they have a way of warming your heart. Unlike his friend Dreamy who Marco tends to perceive as something akin to a little brother relationship with him, Marco’s never really had anything to do with Tuffy before and romantic feelings are eventually reciprocated. Marco is a bit older and more experienced about life in general whereas Tuffy has followed Hefty his whole life and is younger and a bit sheltered. Marco shows him some of the world. Tuffy discovers he has seasickness.

Tuffy and baby Vitriolic. Aww. He’s a good dad despite Vitty having er. Her own social issues djdjk

Tuffy, Hefty, Smurfette, Handy, Marina, Wooly, and Marco (c) The Smurfs

Hefty's moms, Skelly and Vitriolic are mine

#smurfs #the smurfs #mildly suggestive #marcoxtuffy #myart #BFM ng: Vitriolic #BFM oc: Skelly

[recurring-polynya]

Izakaya Kamenoya, part 3

It's been so long, and I kept getting busy with stuff, but rest assured, I have not stopped thinking about every shinigami's favorite watering hole, Izakaya Kamenoya, for even one second of that time, and today I am going to talk about what's really important: what kind of booze can you get there.

The multiplicity of drink options is honestly the thing I really love about Kamenoya. On a meta level, someone has to draw all this stuff, like, with their hands. I have no idea, actually, if the animators consider this sort of thing a break from all the powering up and sword fights and rolling across cave floors, or if they consider a Trip to the Bar to be really tedious. My point is, they very well could have just always drawn people drinking out of the same cups, except they didn't, they drew a series of loving close ups of sake-pouring and a variety of drinkware styles. On a more Watsonian level, I just like the idea that, like Alice's Restaurant, you can get anything you want at Izakaya Kamenoya. So let's get into it!

I think the thing that really made me notice this was this scene from the Amagai Arc, where you see Kira doing mokkiri, or overpouring his sake. (At least I think that's what he's doing. The articles I read sounded more like the server is supposed to do it, which emphasizes the establishment's generosity, so maybe Kira is just being a messy drunk. I'm pretty sure you're also not supposed to pour yourself sake, you're supposed to do it for your tablemates)

Often, mokkiri is done into a masu, which is a small square box that was used as a standard measure for rice. You can see Nanao drinking out of one here!

What kind of cup to drink your sake out of is a huge topic, but basically, it depends on the flavor and characteristics of the sake. The fact that Kira and the Lads are drinking out of clear glasses might imply that they're drinking chilled, summer-style sake (or possibly trying to appreciate the clarity of the vintage, as if this is what you call up Iba and Renji to go to the pub for).

I am not an expert, so I'm not going to attempt to identify exactly what these different cups would be classified as, but you can see a variety of shapes, sizes and materials.

I found less information on different shapes of tokkuri (that's the slightly bigger bottle that you serve from), but those come in a variety, as well. Mostly, they have either the large, oval-shaped jugs you can see in the first picture, or the more slender white ones in the second. I am really fond of these tall boys that Kira and Hisagi have, which seem to have straighter sides than the other kind, kind of like a milk bottle.

While we're looking at that picture, there's an ad on the wall for beer. Beer!

In modern times, beer is actually the most popular alcoholic beverage in Japan, which Wikipedia tells me came about after WWII because of restrictions on the use of rice. They've had beer since the Edo era, though, and many of today's major breweries got started in the late 1800s. I love the idea that beer is a thing you can get in Soul Society, but it's clear that it has not overcome sake in popularity the way it did in the World of the Living--which makes sense, because of they never had those restrictions. (In other words, throw this in the bucket of stuff like tattoos and attitudes toward homosexuality that I think diverged from the Living World because of weird quirks of history).

In fact, Kamenoya apparently imports beer from the World of Living (maybe it also has local brews as well).

Look how lovingly that bottle of Kirin is drawn. 😂 The fact that it's shown in a glass mug in the ad, but served in a Pilsner glass here supports the idea that there are multiple kinds of beer available. Now, I believe that Kirin Zero is non-alcoholic. It's surprisingly hard to do research on beer labels from 20 years ago. I couldn't find a label that looked exactly like that, and Kirin's non-alcoholic offering seems to be called Kirin Free now (Kirin Zero is now zero-carb and I couldn't figure out if it's alcoholic or not). In any case, I am choosing in my heart to believe that this is because of weird TV censorship and in no way implies that Rukia is not one of the champion drinkers of the Gotei-13.

Don't get me wrong! I love a bar that offers non-alcoholic options! You can also get tea at Kamenoya, which you can see Tobiume and Okyō drinking below; Momo has some as well (they also have a discussion about it)

earlier posts in this series: (part 1) (part 2)

#izakaya kamenoya #i was going to talk about food too but this post is long enough so i guess we just gotta have a PART 4 #i actually think it's really great that they show characters who don't prefer to drink #i just wish it wasn't always the tiny lady characters #bleach is also really good at often showing that strength goes with spiritual pressure and not with size #and i think alcohol tolerance should go the same way #ukitake always gets to drink and he's on like 9000 medications! #show us komamura going to the bar and ordering water in a large bowl you cowards!! #at least we have matsumoto sloppy drunk feminist icon

[holdonendure]

Brothers and Sisters

Most churches in America have organized as "501c3 tax-exempt religious organizations." This is a fairly recent trend that has only been going on for about fifty years. Churches were only added to section 501c3 of the tax code in 1954. We can thank Sen. Lyndon B. Johnson for that. Johnson was no ally of the church. As part of his political agenda, Johnson had it in mind to silence the church and eliminate the significant influence the church had always had on shaping "public policy."

Although Johnson proffered this as a "favor" to churches, the favor also came with strings attached (more like shackles). One need not look far to see the devastating effects 501c3 acceptance has had to the church, and the consequent restrictions placed upon any 501c3 church. 501c3 churches are prohibited from addressing, in any tangible way, the vital issues of the day.

For a 501c3 church to openly speak out, or organize in opposition to, anything that the government declares "legal," even if it is immoral (e.g. abortion, homosexuality, etc.), that church will jeopardize its tax exempt status. The 501c3 has had a "chilling effect" upon the free speech rights of the church. LBJ was a shrewd and cunning politician who seemed to well-appreciate how easily many of the clergy would sell out.

Did the church ever need to seek permission from the government to be exempt from taxes? Were churches prior to 1954 taxable? No, churches have never been taxable. To be taxable a church would first need to be under the jurisdiction, and therefore under the taxing authority, of the government. The First Amendment clearly places the church outside the jurisdiction of the civil government: "Congress shall make NO LAW respecting an establishment of religion, nor prohibiting the free exercise thereof."

Religion cannot be free if you have to pay the government, through taxation, to exercise it. Since churches aren't taxable in the first place, why do so many of them go to the IRS and seek permission to be tax-exempt? It occurs out of:

Ignorance ("We didn't know any better")Bandwagon logic ("Everyone else is doing it")Professional advice (many attorneys and CPAs recommend it)

Does the law require, or even encourage, a church to organize as a 501c3? To answer that question let's turn to what the IRS itself has to say.

Churches Need Not Apply

In order to be considered for tax-exempt status by the IRS an organization must fill out and submit IRS Form 1023 and 1024. However, note what the IRS says regarding churches and church ministries, in Publication 557:

Some organizations are not required to file Form 1023. These include: Churches, interchurch organizations of local units of a church, conventions or associations of churches, or integrated auxiliaries of a church, such as a men’s or women’s organization, religious school, mission society, or youth group. These organizations are exempt automatically if they meet the requirements of section 501(c)(3).

Churches Are “Automatically Tax-Exempt”

According to IRS Code § 508(c)(1)(A):

Special rules with respect to section 501(c)(3) organizations. (a) New organizations must notify secretary that they are applying for recognition of section 501(c)(3) status. (c) Exceptions. (1) Mandatory exceptions. Subsections (a) and (b) shall not apply to— (A) churches, their integrated auxiliaries, and conventions or associations of churches.

This is referred to as the "mandatory exception" rule. Thus, we see from the IRS’ own publications, and the tax code, that it is completely unnecessary for any church to apply for tax-exempt status. In the IRS’ own words a church “is automatically tax-exempt.”

Churches Are “Automatically Tax-Deductible”

And what about tax-deductibility? Doesn’t a church still need to become a 501c3 so that contributions to it can be taken as a tax deduction? The answer is no! According to IRS Publication 526:

Organizations That Qualify To Receive Deductible Contributions You can deduct your contributions only if you make them to a qualified organization. To become a qualified organization, most organizations other than churches and governments, as described below, must apply to the IRS.

In the IRS’ own words a church “is automatically tax-deductible.”

Churches Have a Mandatory Exception To Filing Tax Returns

Not only is it completely unnecessary for any church to seek 501c3 status, to do so becomes a grant of jurisdiction to the IRS by any church that obtains that State favor. In the words of Steve Nestor, IRS Sr. Revenue Officer (ret.):

"I am not the only IRS employee who’s wondered why churches go to the government and seek permission to be exempted from a tax they didn’t owe to begin with, and to seek a tax deductible status that they’ve always had anyway. Many of us have marveled at how church leaders want to be regulated and controlled by an agency of government that most Americans have prayed would just get out of their lives. Churches are in an amazingly unique position, but they don’t seem to know or appreciate the implications of what it would mean to be free of government control.

#holdon #ministry #yahuah #yahusha #love #servant #patience #bible #truth #joy #natsarim #repent #faith #israelite

[swamp-spirit]

Important World Building from Arcane Transcript -

In a lot of cultures, the arts are treated as The Industry Where The Gay People Are, especially when it’s not safe to be gay in the broader culture. Since the arts are under pretty tight government control, and homosexuality is under ‘we won’t arrest you for it if you keep your mouth shut because we like to pretend gay people don’t exist‘, the entire house and construction industry became The Industry to Work in If You’re Gay.

Some results of this.

-If you’re gay in a new town, the way to get in on the gay scene is to hang out at a construction site or architecture/real-estate office, then follow to where they hang out after work. There’s a popular competitive poetry in these bars that is a subtle method for allowing gay flirting and government criticism. This is very confusing for Claire when she flees the nation and tries to meet girls, only to find a bunch of straight dudes building a house.

-Watching construction is popular among bored kids, but being a teen struggling to articulate why you’re Very Interested In Watching the Muscular Construction Workers is a very common baby gay experience.

-There tends to be a femme/masc thing going on with laborers vs office jobs (architects/real estate agents etc), though there’s more ambiguity in less strength intensive jobs like house painter. This means that dating histories can end up fairly job bound. (The main character is a detective, but 3/4 of her ex-girlfriends were landscapers or painters)

-This has also led to a vague cultural understanding that female architects and real estate agents are beautiful, desirable ice queens since it’s a career filled with femme lesbians.

-Avairne is a pretty patriarchal society that allows men to take multiple wives but not women, but usually only powerful nobles have the money and sway for multiple wives, especially more than two. BUT if a gay man doing office work has a reputation for being a good/safe fake husband, he’ll often end up married to like 5 lesbian co-workers. This has, ironically, led to the idea that male architects are smooth seducers of even the most cold women instead of, you know, chill queers with so many fake wives.

-There’s a general knowledge that construction sites often have political radicals, but also the government can only do so much because every attempt to crack down on homosexual radicals leads to a complete collapse of the local housing industry.

-Which would be especially bad because decades of every artistic queer looking for a safe community and an artistic outlet going into some sort of architecture/landscaping means architecture in Avairne is GORGEOUS and a huge point of national identity and pride.

#homophobia mention #arcane transcript #misogyny mention

[cosmic-acee]

Here have a goddamn list of "musical songs explained in crack" because its 1 in the morning and I'm bored and i caNT SLEEP(contains spoilers and the "the pants song" one is based on the bootleg-)

Falsettos:

Four jews in a room bitching: biTCH BITCH BITCH BITCH BITCH BITCH

A tight-knit family: he divorced his wife he left his child and ran off with a friend

Love is blind: HIS NAME IS MENDEL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

The thrill of first love: Gay gay homosexual gay

Marvin at the psychiatrist: a three-part mini opera: mendel is bad at his job part one

My father's a homo: trina is not thrilled at all.

Everyone tells Jason to see a psychiatrist: geT THEE TO A PSYCHIATRIST

This had better come to a stop: act 1 marvin is the worst person ever part one

I'm breaking down: local woman has a breakdown while making a banana carrot surprise

Please come to our house: exorcise a deVIIIIIIIIIIL cause it inhabits marvin's son

Jason's therapy: local kid is scared he's gay

A marriage proposal: mendel is bad at proposals

A tight-knit family reprise : whose side are you on???

Trina's song: *trina sings about how she's tired of happy men who rule the world* marvin, jason, mendel, whizzer: this is so sad, alexa play march of the falsettos

March of the falsettos: BEHOLD, THE "I'M NEVER LEAVING YOUR THOUGHTS I WILL BE HERE FOR ETERNITY" SONG

Trina's song reprise: s h e ' s b r e a k i n g d o w n , g e t h e r a p s y c h i a t r i s t

The chess game: act 1 marvin is the worst person ever part two

Making a home: THE POOR DOG

The games i play: we worship andrew rannells in this house.

Marvin hits trina: ACT 1 MARVIN IS THE WORST PERSON EVER PART THREE, THE END

I never wanted to love you: you fucked uo marvin

Father to son: okay that dialed it down a little.

Falsettoland/about time: FINALLY GROW THE HELL UP MARVIN | WOOOOOOO SPIKY LESBIANS

Year of the child: if this song isn't how your family reacts to some big event that involves you i dont know anymore

Miracle of judaism: ...at least he's not gay-

The baseball game: WHIZZER RETURNS LOOKIN LIKE A GAY ICON

A day in falsettoland: mendel is bad at his job part two | mARVinS baCK wiTh wHizzEr | NOUVELLE. BAR MITZVAH. CUISINE. SHE'S BEEN PRACTICING. | 1234 1234 1234

Everybody hates his parents: HE'S A PSYCHIATRIST GET LOST

What more can i say?: good song. the last happy song you will ever get in this musical

Something bad is happening: oh shit oH SHIT

More racquetball: oh look tears

Holding to the ground: local woman tries not to feel bad

Days like this: the almost is there for a reason

Cancelling the bar mitzvah: "jason we cant be certain if he'll ever get better" oh look my heart shattered

Unlikely lovers: MORE TEARS

Another miracle of judaism: PLEASE MAKE HIS FRIEND STOP DYING

Something bad is happening reprise: OH WOW MARVIN HAS IT TOO HAHAHA I AM NOT FINE

You gotta die sometime: damn the tears are back

Jason's bar mitzvah: MORE GODDAMN TEARS

What would i do?: WhEN ARE THEY GONNA STOP FUCKING SPILLING

Falsettoland reprise: CRY YOUR EYES OUT WHERE IS THE AWARD FOR THIS MUSICAL

Be More Chill:

Jeremy's theme: sci-fi noises

More than survive: ccccmon ccccmon go go

I love play rehearsal: christine is amazing. thats it theres no crack thats just a true statement

The Squip song: IT'S FROM JAPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNN

Two player game: someone called for gay energy?

The Squip enters: screaming

Be more chill pt. 1: j e s u s c h r i s t

Do you wanna ride: piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINK BERRY

Be more chill pt. 2: ah yes bribery

More than survive reprise: no masturbating you horny fucking twink

A guy that I'd kinda be into: LOL IT AINT YOU JEREMY

The Squip lurks: sci-fi noises 2.0

Upgrade: JEREMIAH FUCKING HEERE DID YOU JUST LEAVE YOUR ONE REAL FRIEND FOR A FUCKING TIC TAC

Halloween: THE CHOREOGRAPHY OF THIS SONG IS JUST👌

Do you wanna hang: GET AWAY FROM HIM CHLOE

Michael in the bathroom: ah yes the most relatable song in this musical

The smartphone hour: rICH SET A FIRE CUZ HES TOTALLY GAY

The pitiful children: lets go nano drug the school

The pants song: w h a a a a a a a t ?

The play: MICHAEL MAKES AN ENTRANCE

Voices in my head: wE UN-NANO DRUGGED THE SCHOOL

Six the Musical:

Ex-Wives: HER-STORY

No way: bitch nO✋

Don't lose ur head: 👏👏👏

Heart of stone: what's worse than a broken heart?

Haus of holbein: *screaming with a German accent*

Get down: BOW TO YOUR FUCKING SUPERIOR

All you wanna do: katherine deSERVED BETTER

I don't need your love: FUCK YOU HENRY

Six: GO FUCK YOUSELF HENRY THEY DON'T NEED YOU

#falsettos #be more chill #six the musical #i am what the kids call ✨mentally unstabl✨ #and ✨sleep deprived✨ #i am sorry #not sorrh #not sorry at all

[navegandoaciegas]

no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: catholic priest!Bucky, virgin!Bucky, desecrating thoughts and actions, explicit language, smut, consensual sexual acts, mentions of loss of virginity, slight innocence and religious kinks (nothing disturbing), oral sex, fingering, masturbation, sex in a public (and sacred) place.

Summary: As punishment for your sinful behavior, your parents send you to your aunt’s house in the middle of nowhere, in hope you’ll redeem yourself. The punishment quickly backfires when you take an interest in the local (and handsome) priest, and you manage to corrupt his pure soul.

A/N: I was in a priest!Bucky mood this morning and I wrote this for @saiyanprincessswanie​ writing challenge. I chose prompt 17 and the ‘opposites attract’ trope. I hope you like this!

Filth and happy ending ‘cause I’m a sap. Take me to church by Hozier inspired this.

This is not a dark story and both reader and Bucky are consenting adults. Fyi, catholic priests can’t marry, and they change their name when they are ordained. We’ll pretend James is the name he took as priest.

You look over your shoulder to check if anyone’s around and knock on the backdoor of the church, waiting for your lover to usher you inside. The sinful secrecy of it all, the rush of excitement, your love for all that’s forbidden: you’ve never felt more alive.

Being forced to spend the summer in the middle of nowhere is not the way you expected your senior year of college to end, but not all evil comes to harm, and in this quiet little town, you’ve become quite interested in the local priest. In your defence, boredom is the root of all evil, and in your case, evil happens to make you horny and prone to making bad decisions, and Father James is young and handsome, so it was only a matter of time before he gave in the temptation of the flesh and you found yourself fucked against the altar. 

Ordained or not, he’s only a man after all.

-

The confessional is dark and suffocating; behind the wooden screen, the priest is all ears.

Muscle memory kicks in when you do the sign of the cross and begin to speak. 

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.” you recite the formula that’s been ingrained in your mind since you were old enough to need it, “My last confession was seven years ago.”

You mentally curse your parents for still having the authority to send you to Bumfuck Nowhere, Alabama, and your aunt for forcing you to attend church and confess your sins. 

It will be good for your soul, they said, New York is corrupting you.

You suppose it’s only fair that your good catholic parents would react so drastically; they wanted to surprise you in your new apartment and drove all the way from Rhode Island to New York, only to find your piano tutor buried balls deep inside of you. Lord knows what they’d do if they knew you’ve lost your purity long before that, with one of the good catholic girls in your private boarding school. Extramarital sex, with a woman at that! They’d probably have a meltdown, drag your to a cloistered convent and lock you there for life.   

You don’t wait for the priest to acknowledge you and start talking.

“You know Father, I found a handy dandy little list of all the sins you’re supposed to confess to and I checked them. I’ll read it to you. Let’s see.” you clear your throat, “So, I use artificial birth control, I broke a couple of promises, including the one to wait for marriage, I can be kind of blasphemous sometimes, but you see, I spent six months abroad in Italy last year and the kids there taught me all sorts of ways to disrespect the Lord, they have so many, and once those things get stuck in your brain... what can you do, they just stick in there, you don’t even want to say them but they become part of your vocabulary.” you continue uninterrupted, “Anyways, my parents caught me in the act with a man, so I guess we have ‘dishonoring family’ too. Underage drinking as a kid, a lot of that. Drugs sometimes, nothing major, ya know, I don’t do coke or nothing. Gossiping, impure thoughts, God-”

He interrupts you clearing his throat.

“Sorry. See? I don’t even do it on purpose. As I was saying, I love those. Lying... not a whole lot to be honest; to my parents, mostly. Haven’t prayed in a good 10 years. Masturbation, did I mention that? Watched porn a couple of times, ‘m not a big fan if I’m being honest, but to each their own. Oh, and premarital sex, a ton of that. Had an orgy once, not too fond of those either. Too many limbs.”

There’s a lot to unpack here, so you give him a moment to ponder his thoughts. He stays silent for a while, and when he speaks his voice is not at all what you expected it to be. He’s soft spoken yet commanding, and sounds surprisingly young.

“Anything else you can remember?”

“Well of course, the cherry on top, my own first class ticket to hell.” you say, not as cheerful as before, repeating the exact words you’ve been taught for years, “God gave me free will and I used it to commit homosexual acts, Father. Multiple times.” 

You let the words hang in the stuffy air of the confessional; you don’t know what to expect from the priest, to be honest. Last time you admitted to thinking of a girl to a religious figure, Sister Theresa told you you’d never have to act on your impulses, or you’d burn in hell for it. You were 12. 

“You think that’s worse than the rest?”

“Not me, no, I don’t.”

He hums thoughtfully. “What makes you do the things you do?” he asks, and you don’t feel any of the judgment you were expecting, only genuine curiosity.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me to repent for my sins?” you reply, equally as curious.

“Is absolution what you’re seeking?”

You snort, shaking your head. “I’m not looking for forgiveness, Father, and I’m way past asking for permission.”

“Then why are you here?”

“My aunt forced me.”

It’s his turn to snort this time. “You don’t seem the type to follow orders blindly.”

You admit the guy’s got a point. “I guess… I don’t know. I felt the need to. It feels nice, talking to someone. I feel lonely a lot, and it’s easier to talk to strangers. And this is cheaper than therapy, so that’s a bonus. Really, I just need to vent.”

“Do you regret any of your choices?” he says, after a while.

“Not the ones I confessed to.” you admit, trying to discern the priest’s figure behind the screen. 

“What is it, then?”

“You know, you’re kinda chill for a priest from Alabama, I gotta give it to you.” you respond, dodging his question.

“Thanks, it’s probably because I’m from Brooklyn.”

“What the hell-” 

“Language.” 

“Sorry. Why would someone move from Brooklyn to this place?”

“Vocation.”

“I see.” 

It’s silent again, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

“You should come to the parish sometimes. We have meetings, we sing, we eat together, the children play football and the young adults talk about what it means to be a Catholic in the modern world. It may ease your mind about a lot of worries and misconceptions you might have.”

You contemplate on his words: it wouldn’t hurt, would it? It’s not like you’ve got a whole lot going on here; and you might as well find yourself a devoted man or woman to pass time. 

“I might.”, you finally respond, not willing to give him the satisfaction, and stand from the chair. “I’ll see you around, Father.”

“May God give you peace, miss.”

“Amen.”

-

“What took you so long?” James asks, grunting when you pull on his hair.

“My aunt asked me to make lunch for her husband, as if he couldn’t do it his damn self.” you respond, and suck on his bottom lip, “Missed me?”

“Always.”

You coo, “My eager boy.”

He’s sitting on his office chair and you’re straddling his lap, grinding your hips on him and feeling his arousal grow. You’re burning up, panties damp and a familiar coil in your core. You don’t know what excites you the most: being responsible for the corruption of such pure soul, the forbidden aspect of fucking a Catholic priest, or the possibility of someone walking in on you. Your walls flutter when you imagine the scandal that this affair would create.

You pull him closer, tugging on his white collar, and he breaks the kiss. His eyes are black and glossed over, lips swollen, cheeks red, but there’s something like worry in eyes.

“Do you love me?” he asks quietly, in the soft voice you adore.

“Of course I do, you know that.”

You fall on your knees and fumble with the zipper of his black pants.

“Would you love me if I didn’t have this collar?” he stops your hands with his, “Would you still love me if I wasn’t this?”, he gestures to his sacred attire.

You pause your actions and search his eyes. Where is this coming from?

“Yes, I’d love you anyways, I’ll always love you.”

A small, shy smile breaks on his face. He lifts you up and makes you sit on his desk.

“I- I w-want to try something,” he begins with a stutter, “I remember hearing some kids back when I was in school talk about it.”

You cock your head to the side, observing carefully as he sits back down on the chair and parts your legs. He lowers his head and begins peppering the inner skin of your thighs with open mouthed kisses. Oh-.

“James, you don’t have to do this.” you try to tell him, but he’s already moving your panties to the side.

He stares entranced between your legs; he’s never been this bold, never watched you there. “You’re so pretty, I want to kiss you here.” 

You feel a finger tease your entrance and dip in. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, and when he licks a strip of your dripping cunt, you feel like you could burst. He delves in your glistening folds, tongue swirling around as if he was kissing your mouth, and your hips jerk forward when he crooks a couple of fingers inside you, hitting that sweet spot that makes the coil in your belly grow tighter. 

You throw your head back and your eyes fall on the cross behind you. You are very much past forgiveness at this point, you muse, and that makes this all the more exciting.

You’re writhing under his touch, completely at his mercy. You grab the back of his neck and bring his face upward so that his mouth comes in contact with your clit.

“Suck there.” you demand in a raspy voice, rocking your hips and fucking yourself on his fingers. “Good boy.” you praise when he closes his mouth around your bud and begins sucking and lapping on it. “Yes, oh my God, fuck, faster.”

James obeys and jerks the fingers inside of you, the vibration and his tongue enough to make the knot in your core unravel and pleasure release in jolts, shooting from your center to the rest of your body; you slap a hand on your mouth to suppress wanton moans as your hips twitch involuntarily and your toes curl. He rides you though your orgasm until you’re too sensitive to handle his face on you.

When you look down, you find him, face wet in your arousal, eyes half lidded.

“Did I do well?” he asks full of hope, still clinging to your legs and nuzzling your thigh.

“You did amazing, sweet boy.”

-

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.”

Hearing your sultry voice, he chokes on air behind the screen and clears his throat, trying to keep the same composure he always seems to loose when you’re around. 

“I got friendly with a man, you see, a man of church.” you begin in a teasing tone, “He kissed me, and I didn’t pull back. I let him roam his hands all over my body, Father, and then I corrupted him.”, You lick a couple of fingers and dip them in your mouth, then you release them with a popping sound and slowly slip them in your panties. You push a finger in your already wet core, smearing arousal around and teasing your clit, slow at first. “You should have seen how innocent he looked, Father. He said he’s never been touched like that. A virgin. I’ve never been with a virgin before.” you continue, almost moaning the last part as you slide three fingers in and out of you and tease your bud with your thumb, “He didn’t even know I could please him with my mouth, so I took him in and I sucked him off.” You’re panting, hand furiously circling your clit. You hear Bucky’s ragged breath behind the screen. “He moaned so loud, F-F-Father, he c-came so quick. And I swallowed it all, because you can’t let a single drop of seed g-go to w-waste, can you?” you whimper, feeling an orgasm build up.

You’re fueled by his suppressed grunts and the lewd sounds of him touching himself.

“I don’t come for absolution Father, because I’d do it all again.” you breathe at last, letting pleasure run through your every nerve, setting you ablaze. 

Behind the screen, Father James paints his hand and black shirt in white spurts, shame and pleasure fighting eachother in his mind.

-

You haven’t moved yet, legs parted, trying to catch your breath, and James is still clinging onto you.

You don’t know how it happened. 

It started with boredom, with a wish to fuck the pretty priest, but you’ve caught feelings now, and in three weeks you’ll have to get back to New York, where a job and a new apartment await you.

At least your aunt and your parents are happy about your redemption: you’ve been going to church everyday. They don’t need to know you’ve spent most time on your knees or on your back.  

But you don’t want to think about it now; you can’t let sadness take over and ruin these moments when James is only yours. Your love is on borrowed time, and you intend to make the most out of it.

“Do you want to fuck me, my love? You want me to come all over your pretty cock, yes? You want to fill me up with your cum?” you whisper in his ear, amused at the way he blushes.

“Please.” he whines, palming his cock through his briefs.

“Please what, sweet boy?”

“Please let me-” he interrupts himself.

“Let me what?”

He mumbles something incomprehensible.

“Can’t hear you.” you tease him, grabbing his chin and tilting his face up.

“Let me make love to you.”

You let out a chuckle and shake your head fondly. This man has had you bent over his desk, in the confessional, behind the altar, on the benches where the devoted Catholics of this town attend mass, and yet he can’t bring himself to talk crudely.

You pull on his hair so he stands, and you kiss him ravenously, letting your hands roam over his lean body, the taste of his lips permanently etched in the back of your mind. You don’t want to forget a thing, so you commit to mind each of his little noises, the way his tongue swirls around yours, the soft caresses of his hands.

Clothes discarded in a blur, the room is filled with your moan and his grunts. He pounds into you like a desperate man, clinging onto you with a bruising touch, holding you impossibly close as if you were about to slip through his fingers. And in a way, you are.

When James makes love to you the world disappears and there’s no judgement, no church. He’s not a priest, you’re not a sinner; he’s not pure, you’re not sick.

It’s just you and him, united in one body. Just a man and a woman being one in the flesh.

His thrusts become sloppier, his breathing labored. He brings a hand on your clit and presses on it. He comes inside of you, painting your walls, and the feeling of his swollen cock inside you and his cum filling you up are enough to trigger your release too, your walls clenching on him and milking every last drop.

You’re exhausted, panting in each other’s embrace. 

There’s no sin when you’re like this; you’re no longer the devil to his holy water. 

There’s only love.

-

James’ desk in his office is dark and wide, with mahogany panels on all three sides except the one he sits at. So when Ms. Lee, the adorable elderly lady that organizes the monthly fundraising events for charity, knocks on the door as you’re bouncing on James’ cock, all you have to do is crouch down and disappear under the table.

“Good evening, Father James.” She greets him cheerfully.

You hear the tapping of her heels until she plops down on the guests chair. 

“Good evening, Ms. Lee.” he responds in a strained voice, adjusting himself on the chair.

Ms. Lee speaks a lot. She’s talking James’ ear off, blabbering about the next charity event, and you think what better occasion than this one to be an indecent slut.

You slowly massage his thighs, bringing your hands from his knees to his groin, teasing him when you get close to his crotch and retracting. 

You watch as his cock swells in front of you, and you bite back a giggle. You hear him suck in a breath when you start pumping his length with both your hands.

“Are you alright, James? You’re looking a little worse for wear.” Ms. Lee asks him worriedly when she sees her priest red and sweaty.

James clears his throat and when he’s about to open his mouth, you lick a strip from base to his leaking tip, and the noise that escapes him is between a moan and a grunt.

“Y-yes, Ms. Lee, I’m fine. Just some food poisoning I think.” he manages to answer, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.  

“Poor thing.” she coos, and you take his cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue around, sucking on the frail skin of under the tip, “Anyways-” she begins again.

James tries to keep his composure, but you sense his distress, and you imagine it must be written all over his face. One hand massages his balls, the other aids your movements as you bob your head up and down, careful not to make a noise. His legs twitch under the table when you push his cock all the way down to your throat, and he makes a strangled noise.

“Sweetie, are you sure you’re fine? You really don’t look like it.” Ms. Lee interjects again, interrupting her story.

“I’m fine ma’am, don’t worry about me.”, he says through gritted teeth, jaw clenched shut so hard he might break his teeth.

You give it all you’ve got until your jaw is aching and your knees are killing you. Your effort pays off when, with one last motion on your hands, James grunts and cums in your throat, hips jerking forward and legs shaking.

He comes so hard that you choke on his release.

“Did you hear it too?” she asks in alert.

“He-hear wh-what?” he stutters, pretending to cough to hide your noises.

“A choking sound?”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about that, just my cough.” he answers, red faced and spent.

“I guess…” she doesn’t sound convinced but lets it go anyways. She could never imagine her sweet priest is getting blown by a city whore under his desk, “I’ll get going then, but please get some rest Father, your holy duties can wait.”

They can indeed, you think, as James yanks you from underneath the table and bends you over the desk, fucking you until you’re crying.

-

“What makes you do the things you do?” he’s playing with your hair as he asks the question that’s been plaguing him for months, since that first time in the confessional.

You’re in a motel somewhere, two hours away from your town, laying on a bed like two lovers. In this room, you’re not a dirty little secret.

What excited you before, suffocates you now.

You thought you may only like the forbidden, but you find yourself at peace in his arms, that peace you’ve yearned for for 22 years, that peace you could never find, because people like you are born sick, that’s what you’ve been told your whole life.

“If I tell you, will you absolve me?” you ask, basking in his affection. 

James is so sweet, so caring. You wish this moment could last forever.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, my love. I’ve sinned too much myself.”

“My bad.” you giggle.

Silence falls on you, and you hum in though, pondering your next words very carefully.

“I don’t do them for any reasons, other than they feel good. It feels good to drink, to smoke, to fuck you, to suck your cock.”, you say, and he blushes in embarrassment, “Or maybe I never got over my teenage phase and I just like doing all the things my parents always told me not to do, who knows. Trauma? Maybe. Spite? Quite possibly. I don’t even know at this point.”

He nods slowly. 

He wishes you could see yourself through his eyes, see how perfect you are. In his heart, there’s only love for you, in his mind, no more conflict.

“I do them for you.” he answers, and you smile at him, “And for myself, I guess. I thought I had found my way, but maybe I was wrong.”

You turn to look at him, and bop his nose.

“I’ll always love you, no matter what choice you make. I’ll wait for you if you ask me to.”

But his choice has been made already. 

He doesn’t deserve his collar, but hopefully he deserves you.

-

I’m curious to hear your thoughts. Please, reblog if you liked it and leave a comment. Feedback is always appreciated. 🤍

Priest bucky masterlist

#saiyanprincessswanie 500 followers challenge #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #sebastian stan x reader #james barnes x y/n #priest!bucky

[kevindayscrown]

The one where Kevin Day falls in love with an ice hockey player.

Part 4 The Fall

(TW: Panic attacks, mentions of violence, mentions of homophobia, mentions of Riko because he deserves his own trigger warning)

Anything included in this head canon takes place the semester after the Foxes won the championship against the Ravens.

Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about varsity teams in the United States so excuse any false information. Read first the Introduction, Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3.

Weeks passed, the chilling breezes of October giving way to the bitter cold of mid-November. The season had started off to a satisfying foot for the Foxes of the Exy team, the new recruits slowly adjusting. Everything was falling into place.

The calm before the storm.

Kevin reserved three nights a week for sneaking with Eric to the Foxhole Rink and practice his skating skills.

It was a slower process than he would have wanted, but Kevin knew about slow processes. It had taken him half a year before he could use a racquet with his left hand again.

However, Kevin was also a firm believer of proper equipment being part of an athlete’s success. His borrowed skates just wouldn’t do, especially now that the two of them had moved on from simple skating to actual ice hockey.

Eric agreed to take him to buy his own pair. Kevin had to skip class just so he wouldn’t have to find another excuse. He still wasn’t sure if Andrew genuinely believed him every time he came up with a reason to skip night practice and then disappear for hours.

They were looking at the designs the store had in stock when it happened.

Kevin felt his cellphone vibrate in his pocket. He could guess that it was probably Nicky, wanting to annoy him with something.

When it didn’t stop, he sighed in frustration and picked it up.

“What?”

“I’m so sorry Kevin.” It was Dan.

“Sorry about what?”

Dan had a knack for taking photos of the foxes throughout the year so she could put them on the wall back at the court. She carried a camera everywhere with her.

She’d carried one when they’d gone at the rink after the Exy team lost the bet.

Kevin rushed forward and asked the cashier if he could use one of the computers in the store.

It was everywhere in local and nationwide websites. Mostly on gossip tabloids. The ice hockey players had apparently gotten their hands on the photo and in their attempts to harmlessly tease their captain, they ended up spreading the photo around on the internet.

‘Kevin Day’s newest conquest? Staring Striker swings a different way than you’d expect.’

‘All for the Wrong Game? Exy-Prodigy Kevin Day on Thin Ice.’

On the articles, pictures of Eric having his arm wrapped around him when he almost fell on the rink and of them entering the Foxhole Rink in the late hours, were attached. He couldn’t even tell when those had been taken and by whom.

“Shit.”

Crude commentary, speculations, jokes, slurs, people suddenly claiming they always knew. It was all over the news. The headlines alone were bad enough.

‘Perhaps Kevin and Riko’s relationship was of a different nature.’

Kevin was going to be sick.

“What the hell happened Day? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Eric demanded but Kevin could barely hear him.

He was having a hard time breathing. The last time he had panicked like that was when he told the press he had never been skiing before and instantly thought Riko would kill him for it. Now, it was another Moriyama who could take his life for such a stupid mistake.

Before his thoughts could keep going downhill, Eric grabbed his wrist on his right arm and dragged him down one of the alleys that was the least crowded. Kevin then felt hands cradling his face. Eric stared down at him with a harsh look, though one also of concern.

“These rumors go around all the time about every celebrity, Kevin,” He said, trying to comfort him.

“No, no, he-,” he stopped and tried to breathe in again. “Fuck. Fuck!” He pulled away and ran his fingers through his hair. Kevin hadn’t circled the news like that ever since it was announced that he had transferred to Palmetto State University.

“He? Who? Kevin, talk to me.”

Simple rumors have ruined careers, Kevin knew that. It was the rumor of him being better than Riko that had gotten him to break Kevin’s hand and almost ending his own career. It was by luck that he could recover and play again.

Pro teams weren’t tolerant to gossiping rumors that could ruin their image. And they sure as hell weren’t progressive enough to accept homosexual players – even only rumored ones - in their lineup. Kevin had already signed, but would they break his contact over this?

If they did, if he didn’t make it to pros, he would be useless to Ichirou. He would get rid of Kevin overnight.

“Kevin.” Eric’s stern voice snapped him back to reality.

“Ichirou Moriyama,” he finally said and stared down at his hands. The white scar across his left palm was somehow more prominent at that moment.

Eric was confused, as it was expected. Kevin gathered the remainings of his sanity to explain as best as he could. He didn’t know why or how, maybe it was his panic, his need to talk to someone, Eric’s concerned expression, but he was suddenly sharing everything. The Moriyamas owning Kevin ever since his mother died, Riko breaking his hand, everything going on in the background last year that people didn’t know about, and of course, the deal Neil had made with Ichirou.

By the time he was done, he was shaking and Eric remained completely silent.

“Fuck it,” the goaltender suddenly said. “Any pro team would be stupid to not take Kevin Day into their lineup because of this. You are the best striker in the history of Exy. You are passionate, you are determined. You have an insufferable ego, yes, but you are Exy. It’s your legacy. They won’t take it away from you.”

Kevin wasn’t sure how to react to this, but he felt a twitch in his chest.

Usually, when he had a panic attack, the Foxes or Wymack would hand him a bottle of vodka and call it a day. They didn’t know how to handle him.

Somehow, Eric however, knew exactly what to say.

“I- Thank you,” he said and clenched his hands into fists.

His phone rings again and Andrew’s name appeared on the screen.

Whatever composure he had regained, vanished into thin air.

Before he could reach for it, Eric grabbed the phone and picked it up. Kevin wasn’t sure what had been shared, and he wondered which of his knives Andrew would use to skin them both alive.

It didn’t take long for the blond to show up. Kevin was immediately at his feet, but wasn’t quick enough. Andrew already had a skate on his hand, apparently deciding to get creative and test how sharp the blade of it was.

He was going for Eric before Kevin could stop him.

#aftg #all for the game #OC: Jiang Eric #kevin day #aftg headcanon #aftg oc #the foxhole court #the raven king #the kings men #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #exy #Palmetto State Foxes #aaron minyard #nicky hemmick #dan wilds #matt boyd #allison reynolds #renee walker #tfc #tfc fanfic

[lmanberg]

Things I noticed watching Ranboo’s VOD, a long post:

Calling Tubbo “funny”. Could be the whole funny = cute, but I don’t think so. I think it’s more that Tubbo might have misheard it as “honey” so Ranboo specified that he said funny before Tubbo reacted.

Tubbo falls asleep to Ranboo’s streams :) We been know but the fact that it’s because he finds Ranboo’s voice calming and likes that he doesn’t get loud when he yells is real nice.

Ranboo and Tubbo may watch Gravity Falls together! And he want to watch it even knowing Tubbo knows all the lines so that he’ll quote it when they watch it together.

Ranboo’s gentle laugh when Tubbo pronounced hypocritical wrong.

Tubbo wants to take Ranboo to the donut shop and his favorite pizza place :,) And he’s talked to Ranboo about them off stream.

Enderbees Tescos date

Ranboo enjoys shopping

Enderbees Build-a-Bear date

Tubbo supporting local businesses what a king

Ranboo and Tubbo talked about hotels... and Tubbo didn’t want Ranboo to say why... in that instance is was probably because of what people do in the beds but how much you wanna bet when they were discussing it the idea of how many beds was brought up?

“The things you’re doing aren’t bad, they’re just different. They’re interesting.” -Ranboo

“I would nay nay you Ranboo” “I don’t know how to nay nay” “Teach me to nay nay when we meet up, we can nay nay together” -Tubbo

Tubbo read & wrote fanfics when he was younger but wouldn’t call it fanfic (“fanwriting” is fanfiction king)

Tubbo role played (oh my god)

(nsfw) Tubbo knows the “notices your bulge” copypasta I hate it here

“I really took part in professional fanfiction this is awesome” -Tubbo

(nsfw) “Oh, you’re an OC. Obsuse Cock.” -Tubbo

Ranboo saying you need to get a good read on someone/know their emotions before you go out with them, Tubbo asking if he knows his emotions, Ranboo saying no, Tubbo saying “I guess you don’t have a good read on me” all smug.

Oh my god this feels so personal... Ranboo. “If you want to stay friends with them afterwards” uhh...

Penguins mate for life (this doesn’t mean anything it’s just cute)

Ranboo was created by TikTok :O

Them both talking about Thomas Sanders gay gay homosexual gay

Tubbo thinks Thomas Sanders created Vine?!?

Tubbo we know you’re not putting your curtains back on your windows because you’re too short, it’s ok king we understand

Tubbo saying republicans are the bad guys pleaseee

“Don’t make me a trumpie, please” -Tubbo

“I hang out with you because of your looks and charisma. I’m hypnotized, it’s awful.” -Tubbo

“Are you flirtatious, Ranboo?” -Tubbo

“How do you flirt? Can I try flirt on you?” -Tubbo

Ranboo would... kill Tubbo? If it was that or pain? Idek

“Aww thank you for shooting me that’s so nice” -Tubbo

Tubbo saying your mom is an American joke. *Camera slowly pans to George*

Ranboo bringing up the meetup out of nowhere and Tubbo being unphased

Tubbo listing a shit ton of just “chilling” as things to do with Ranboo

Tubbo saying if you want to date someone to flirt with them a lot ok Tubbo

“Ranboo you are my spouse” “*smug* Yeah, I am”

This

This also

Why are they talking about feet sizes. Aren’t they measured differently in the UK vs US? Do they know this??

Comparing... hand sizes...

“It [hand comparison] is gonna be funny” -Ranboo, hey remember when we said funny = cute?

“Can you give me a piggy back?” -Tubbo

#text #live-blogging #* #.👑🐝

[angrypedestrian]

THE TIME IDIOTS EPISODE 701 (christ) TITLED “I, like Ava, am lying on the ground ” MY THOUGHTS:

PREVIOUSLY: It has been less than 2 months since we last saw this show I am so FUCKING tired

Y’all I live on the west coast now and am (currently) not insane enough to find and stream an east coast broadcast so these will be coming out real late and real irrelevantly, as god intended

I look forward to seeing which of you are the TRUE angrypedestrian fans

lol

oh thank you various locals for this helpful recap of the season finale that happened LESS THAN TWO MONTHS AGO

i will say it is satisfying to see the ship blow up again

my girlfriend keeps yelling “they killed my wife” at them blowing up the waverider

the pastor is here to try and save us

jesus cannot save us now, sir

Nate shut the FUCK up zari is MOURNING

i love when this show remembers the time bureau, because the federal government indignation roars in my heart like a mighty lion

tala and shayan are the best they deserve the world and also to be on a better show

a HEADPIECE and you deserve MANY fascinators

every time they show that sheriff sign it feels spelled wrong even though i know it’s not. not sure what that means for me. probably nothing good

clowns

of course the answer is clowns

because WE are the real clowns here. every day phil clowns me and i fall for it

astra and spooner....in love? it may be more likely than you think!

at least zari gets to do a group makeover montage. i DO love a montage

guggenheim circus are you FUCKING kidding me. I DON’T GET BILLY ZANE AND NOW THIS

literally putting on our collective clown shoes here aren’t we

nate and ava sibling team up always a fav. a good natured ribbing is always a fun time

hoover....we’re letting nate be hoover....

homosexual implications

despite how zany they all are they are not great circus performers

nate’s biggest super power is his ability to make anyone think he wants to fuck them. because he does

and he should be celebrated and commended for that

my headcanon of a stadium light sized flasher in the time bureau arsenal remains intact, it’s truly the only efficient way to make this whole thing work

odessa def does not have enough weed to keep them all functioning long term

nick zano reflexively crossing himself as an italian-american man and the editors just kept it in

GARY DON’T ACT LIKE GIDEON ISN’T A PERSON

she IS she’s ALSO a timeship

sorry olivia that you have to take up the mantle of acting like an absolutely fool to do magic spells

JOHN IS NOT SOMEONE TO MODEL YOURSELF AFTER ASTRA

john FREQUENTLY caused himself anguish

spooner....concerned....romance is alive

NATE WHY ARE YOU IN A SLEEVELESS SHIRT

there is no reason for this other than punishment to me personally

you’ll have your day in court phillip

spooner in shirtless shirt is valid. nate is not

love that everyone is just chill with the anachronistic clothes these dummies are constantly wearing

we have the set for john’s house we’re not gonna stop using it!!!

so much of the budget went into the set we can’t get rid of it

gary’s love for john...so pure...so misguided

of all the legends, if i am being real, i am probably most like ava

and recognizing and accepting that? is growth

eat the weed gummies zari

girlfriend is now shouting “SARA SHOULD NOT BE IN CHARGE”

which is correct, she should not

crime spree it is!!!

love these character shoes on sara and ava lol

this is a fun hijink, i do legitimately enjoy it

true crime fanaticism is a historical disease

thank you ava for trying to pretend that there may be historical consequences to any actions anymore

time is pudding, famously

or perhaps cement?

maybe jello

nate wants to get his money’s worth on that $3 vocab

oh that steel up cgi is lookin ROUGH

welp y’all fucked that one didn’t you

ava IS the mood

IS the moment

also ava do you really want to know how badly this fucked everything up

true crime fanaticism is a historical disease

and ava is a ruthless bitch, good for u girl

oh that alien cgi is also bad, did they lose the rubber suit?????

john wouldn’t be disappointed in you, he rescued you from hell???

we can’t have two wlw ships on this show that don’t own any shirts with sleeves

best friend???? OR LOVER?????

SEE GIDEON IS A PERSON

and she’s naked as hell

“MY WIFE” -my girlfriend

“LASER WIFE” “i love you”

NEXT WEEK: where is gideon in this preview this is some horseshit

#legends of tomorrow #legends of tomorrow spoilers #missed y'all enjoy my nonsense #the time idiots #my thoughts as i have them

[inky-duchess]

21 History Ancedotes for my 21st Birthday

So today I celebrate my 21st birthday and I have decided to gift you all with 21 of my favourite historical Ancedotes. Some are funny, some are sad and some are plain bizarre but I hope the make your day 💜

Mary Maloney, an Irish-born suffragette in England followed Winston Churchill around while he was campaigning for a seat in Parliament, drowning out everything he said with a very large bell and calls for him to apologise for his comments on women's rights and suffrage movements.

Clodius Pulcher was a well born Roman noble during the last day's of the Republic. He gave up his Patrician status to become Tribune of the Plebs (an office in which one had to be a Pleb) by being adopted by a much younger Plebian man who became his "father". Clodius was a bit of a riot, sneaking into religious festivals dressed like a woman to sleep with Caesar's wife, building a shrine to Liberty in the ruins of the Conservative Cicero, vetoed the last speech of one of the Consuls (who basically did nothing all year and was apparently going to roast Caesar) and burned down the Senate House with his funeral pyre (the Plebs who loved him literally tearing up the furniture to build his pyre). He was honestly the best fun.

When laying on her deathbed, Queen Caroline of Ansbach turned to her husband George II of England and told him he should marry again. George refused to ever wed again... But added he would have mistresses. Caroline said , likely with a roll of her eyes, "oh my god that doesn't matter."

Florence was a pretty cool city in the Renaissance until Savanorola came to town. He disliked the loose living artists that crowded the city, with their naked pagan gods and rampant homosexuality. He expelled them all with help of the French hoping to make Florence Holy Again. When the Borgia Pope excommunicated him and sentenced him to death, one man in the crowd was reported to have said. "thank God, niw we can return to sodomy." One Floretine man in the 1490s said Gay Rights.

So this list couldn't be complete without an entry of the only American politician I love, Alexander Hamilton who was just a walking entity of sass. I could go on about his sharp sarcasm or his disaster bi vibes with John Lauren's but my all time favourite Alexander Hamilton ancedote has to be this exchange with Thomas Jefferson "There are approximately 1010300 words in the English language, but I could never string enough words together to properly explain how much I want to hit you with a chair."

Caterina Sforza was an Italian noble woman during the Renaissance. She was apart of the powerful Sforza family, which drew many enemies to her. One fateful day at Forli, Caterina's children were snatched as hostages. The besiegers threatened to kill her children if she did not cede the castle. Caterina refused, lifting her skirts and shouted to the besiegers that she had the means to make more children.

Hannibal Lecter's creator Thomas Harris was happy to end his great character's story with the original trilogy. However his publishers forced him to write an unneeded prequel explaining why Hannibal became Hannibal. Thomas Harris agreed lest he lose the rights to his character so he wrote Hannibal Rising, where Hannibal as a young man hunts down the Nazis who ate his sister with a katana.

Nell Gwyn is my favourite mistress of Charles II, mainly because of her sass. Once while trapped in the middle of a riot where Londoners swamped her carriage thinking she was Charles's Catholic mistress. She popped her head out the carriage and told the people "Pray good people be civil. I am the Protestant whore." She also dosed her rival Moll Davis with laxatives in order to free up some of Charles's time and she once flashed her underwear at the French ambassador after asking him why the Franch King did not pay her to spy on Charles because she was with him every night. A true Queen.

Emperor Ai of the Han Dynasty of China once rose from his bed to go do some ruling when he realised his lover, Dong Xian was sleeping on his sleeve. Rather than disturb his lover, the Emperor cut his sleeve off at the wrist to leave Dong Xian nap. Nothing has ever been more romantic than that. Y'all could never.

Princess Margaret the sister of current Queen Elizabeth II was a socialable Princess and often tasked to visit the up and coming music stars of the day on behalf of the Crown. When meeting the Beatles one evening, she noticed George Harrison was acting a little odd. When she asked what was the matter, he replied "We arent allowed eat until you go." Princess Margaret laughed and promptly left so the Beatles could get some dinner.

During the Siege of Jadotsville, Irish soldiers under the flag of the UN were attacked and besieged by local insurgents allied with the Katanga Regime. The insurgents numbered thousands while the Irish only had 158 soldiers, all who were lightly armed. They radioed to their allies assuring them that "we will hold out until our last bullet is spent. Could use some whiskey though".

Napoleon was famous for writing raunchy letters to his wife, the Empress Josephine while he was away. She used to reply with really mundane letters or not at all. She really just could not be bothered with him.

Josip Broz Tito was so fed up with Joseph Stalin sending assassins to kill him, he wrote to Stalin personally to say "If you don't stop sending assassins to kill me. I will send one to Moscow and I won't have to send another." It didn't work but Big Dick Energy.

Successful Roman soldiers returning from war often got to march along in parades known as Triumphs. During this, it was customary for them to sing bawdy songs about their commander. One surviving one about Caesar goes like this "Romans, lock up your wives. Here comes the bald adulterous whore. We pissed away your gold in Gaul and come to borrow more."

Matilda, Lady of the English was a woman so badass that history cannot handle her. She was the daughter of Henry I who left his throne to her after the death of her brother. She was away in France when her father died and her throne was snatched by her cousin Stephen. They battled back and forth for years with neither side ceding any ground. Matilda was once besieged in a castle during a snow storm, with Stephen's men all around her. Instead of fighting her way out. She simply donned a white cloak and walked out of the castle. Just walked out without any of Stephen's men seeing her.

Pedro of Portugal once fell in love with a beautiful lady in waiting called Inez de Castro. For years, they lived as man and mistress, popping out a few kinds. Pedro's dad really did not like Inez and wanted Pedro to find a legitimate wife so he had her killed. Pedro returned home to find the mother of his children dead. Pedro went a little crazy. He had all his father's assassins killed, ripping out their hearts as they had done to him. When Pedro ascended the throne, he demanded the Pope legitimize his children by Inez. The Pope not wanting to upset the King, said he couldn't because Inez was never crowned Queen. Pedro dug Inez up and crowned her as Queen, having all the nobility swear loyalty to her corpse. The Pope had no choice but to agree to his request.

A famously clever general once saved an entire city with an ingenious stragety to sit outside the city waiting for the attacking army to come. The attack had come to fast for the city to ready themselves for a Siege so, the general had to move quickly. He evacuated the city and took his place waiting for the army to come. The enemy forces stopped and took one look at him and bolted, thinking he meant to lure them in one of his famous traps.

Michaelangelo was really badly treated by the Vatican when he was painting the Sistine Chapel. He constantly fought with the Popes over the design and his work, which he was paid peanuts for. Michaelangelo got his revenge in his work, painting the gates of Hell behind the Papal Throne and an angel flipping the ol' fig (the Renaissance version of the bird) toward the Pope's chair.

Peter the Great was not a perfect guy. He kept serfdom as a practise in his kingdom, he had his son tortured to death and he could be an unpleasant guy. But Peter was a dreamer. He wanted nothing more to build a fleet for Russia and bring Russia beyond its borders. Peter took a gap year from ruling Russia to wander around Europe. When he stopped in England, he was granted Leicester House to chill in while he did his shipwright studies. It was here that Peter found a new passion. The wheelbarrow. Cue Peter and his new found English buddies drinking in Leicester House, punching the artwork and rolling each other around in barrels across the house's Great gardens.

Diogenes is hands down a walking shit post. He was a great thinker in Greece during the reign of Alexander but a rather dry, sarcastic wit. He lived in a pithos/a jar because he shunned all vanities and values of society. He trolled other philosophers, attending their debates to heckle them and eat loud foods through them. When Alexander the Great came to fan boy over him, saying that if he were not Alexander he would like to be Diogenes to which Diogenes just said "yeah me too, now get out of my sunlight."

Cosimo de Medici was the son of a Floretine banker with a great knowledge and love of art. Cosimo wished for Florence to release its potentially and join the Renaissance. He hired Filippo Brunelleschi to finsh the Great Dome of Santa Maria del Fiore which had láin unfinished for over a century, a symbol of a failure of ambition. The builders had lost the knowledge of creating a dome so large so it remained unfinished. Despite much opposition from the other nobility and denouncers of the Renaissance, Cosimo's dream of the completion of the dome was completed, making it the largest brick dome in creation at that time. There is nothing like achieving your dreams and certainly nothing like leaving a lasting reminder that screams 'I was right and you were wrong' to stand for centuries.

#Instead of doing shots I decided to give you all a gift #History is our greatest gift #And it's filled with dick jokes and idiots #Anyway happy birthday to me #Go forth and enjoy this great gift #history dump #History Ancedotes #History bites: kinda?

[straighttohellbuddy]

a new chapter of die mad about it you say 👀👀

mayhaps 👀

also I promise the formatting won't be that attrocious in the fic 😂

(for those of you who would like to catch up xx)

#your local homosexual with no chill #dream x reader #dream x sapnap x reader #sapnap imagine #sapnap x reader #dream imagine #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken imagine

[bangtanlalaland]

together | ksj (m.)

synopsis ⇣ you encounter the world’s most handsome man, who’s also the richest, only to discover that he’s your long-lost childhood friend.

→part of the bring it back collection!

— 1920′s!au; friends to lovers!au

⇢pairing: millionaire!kim seokjin x textile worker!female reader

⇢genre: angst, fluff, smut

⇢word count: 3.9k+

⇢contents ⨯ warnings: somewhat inspired by the great gatsby, some plots twists in here (have your popcorn ready plz), mentions of pining, soft love making in this, some sad stuff (sorryyyy, just adds to the drama), a splash of 1920′s slang (i tried ok)

a/n: just a reminder you guys, in case you’re wondering or expecting this, I am not basing this story entirely off of what happened in the great gatsby so plz don’t come after me. as stated above, this fic is somewhat inspired by the novel. I’d also like to add that most of the events taking place in this story is like a re-enactment of my own personal experiences, therefore this one is a little personal for me, but I am glad to have this chance to share it with you all. anyways, hope you all enjoy!

song rec: “together” by the xx

glossary

big shot—someone of high status/great popularity

bimbo—tough guy

bootlegging—illegal distribution of alcohol

cash or check—to kiss someone now or later

gay—happy (no connection to homosexuality)

jane—a female

jitney—a small bus that costs 5¢

nookie—sex

quiff—a slut

speakeasy—an underground bar (usually involves illegal distribution and/or selling of alcohol)

wingding—a lively celebration or party

Everything was planned. And you should have known this—that it was all an act/a gimmick. The fame, the money, the chivalry. And it didn’t get you anywhere but strung out on coffee and cigarettes—paired with a broken heart. Part of you wanted to blame your friend Betty for even dragging you to that pointless wingding, and then another part of you wanted to blame yourself for letting your guard down. The moment you saw his stupid, handsome face, you should have just walked away. You should have ended whatever was to come, right then and there.

But, you didn’t.

Instead, you chose to wind up in his bed and smothered by his arms. You chose to let yourself go, because at one point in your life, he was someone you trusted. The never-ending ache in your chest weighs upon you as if you’re carrying a rock that’s the size of New York state. You continuously tell yourself: You should have left. You should have said no. You should have just walked away.

Maybe if you said no, would he have ended up in your life some other way? Would you have been happier than you were during those moments with him? Could you even truly say you regret those experiences, even though at that moment it was exactly what you wanted? The past few weeks, you’d driven yourself mad, contemplating and replaying scenarios within your mind to re-arrange the pieces to the puzzle.

But, you end up with nothing.

You can’t think. You can’t eat. You can’t sleep. You can’t do anything without seeing him. Feeling him. Hearing him. And even smelling him. It’s as if he lingers in the spirit—like a ghost, haunting you every waking second of the day. Except, you know nothing about ghosts and how to rid of them.

And the memories…

You can’t forget the times when life was oh so simple—when you knew who he used to be, the he you grew fond of and loved with every fiber in your being. You can’t get over those shiny, gold, silky sheets you had become accustomed to lace yourself in, wrapped within his embrace. Both of your bare bodies glued together by perspiration, and those deep-chocolate irises that make you crumble under his gaze. Especially when he’d whisper to you with that voice of his dipped in comfort and say,

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more happier in my life.”

However, it’s too late. You tell yourself that it’s over, and there is no going back. Ever.

five months earlier

You wiped away the perspiration, on your forehead, with the back of your hand. As people say, “Another day, another dollar.” Literally. You’re only paid 16 cents/hr for your work at the town’s local textile factory. Your hands often find themselves cracked and dried by the end of your shift. It’s the roaring 20′s and everything was booming. Well, at least for everyone else except you.

“Oh, Betty! I told you already I don’t ‘party’.” You whined, while clutching your purse to head beeline out of the factory.

“You’re telling me that a doll like yourself doesn’t ‘party’ during this Jazz Age?” Your blonde-haired co-worker scoffed with a laugh. “Surely, you ought to be ashamed!”

Your mouth flew agape at her audacity, “Well-” You attempted to muster up a comeback, “Well- speakeasy’s are not even legal!”

Betty added, “Oh, you’re no fun! You know that?” You giggled at her frustrated expression since she seemed so conflicted.

“I know. Which is probably why a man would never want me.” Betty stopped you in your tracks, placing her hand over your arm.

“Oh, nonsense! You’re a doll and you know it.” She contemplated for a moment, “You just need some… opening up is all!”

You nodded in reply, “I suppose so.” Betty’s face lit up as if an idea popped up in that wild brain of hers, “How about this?” She gripped onto you tighter. “Why don’t you join me this weekend at Mr. Worldwide Handsome’s wingding!”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t think you understand what “partying” means, when I say I do-”

“Now, now wait! Before you say no, it’s not what you think.” She reassured with a beaming smile.

“Who is this Mr. Worldwide Handsome?” You questioned, finally reaching the bus stop to catch a jitney.

Betty hesitated for a moment, “Why I don’t know. Well, I don’t think anyone knows.” You scoffed at her coy way of attempting to convince you.

“Oh, that’s just nonsense, Betty! If this is your way of trying to get me to go with you to that party- then, you’re doing quite an awful job at it.”

Betty rolled her eyes at you, “____, you’ve got it all wrong! I promise. It’s not what you think. It’s just a place where you can be yourself. He holds these gatherings every weekend and it’s so… lively! You can be free and… gay!”

—

You nervously stepped out of the automobile, as you and Betty were dropped off outside of the grand mansion where dozens if not hundreds of people gathered within the entrance of the establishment. Flappers and big shots roamed the premises.

“Why did I let you persuade me into coming here?” You whispered to Betty who had her arm interlinked with yours. You plastered a fake smile amongst the guests. Betty was dressed in a mini, black dress with sparkling fringes, a deep red lipstick adding an extra pop to her porcelain skin.

She cooed back at you, “Because you are my friend, and I was not going to take no for an answer.” As you relayed to your friend earlier in the week, you weren’t one of those “party girls” or “flappers” as they call it.

Seokjin roamed about his mansion, at the top of the stairwell, tapping his feet on the marble flooring below him, sipping on a glass of champagne in his hand. His handsomeness granted numerous glances and coos toward his towering figure. He sported his signature, jet-black mullet that’s slicked back. His white tuxedo glowed effervescently, blinding anyone within his perimeter. Plush, pink lips decorated his dashing face.

He busied himself in obtaining another glass of champagne as another server passed by. But when he turned away to face the entrance of the palace, his heart dropped, his lips parted distinctively, tongue sliding along the bottom of his lip. It’s as if everything and everyone around him had stopped, whilst his almond-shaped eyes landed on a Jane that he grew to be familiar with many years ago—two decades to be exact.

Ever since you both departed, he wanted desperately to find you again just as you did. He missed you, and you missed him, and there hadn’t been a day that passed when you didn’t cross his mind. You both grew up in the same quaint town, but then Jin’s family moved to the big city and that was when everything changed.

You both drifted apart, and it was now a good twenty years later that you both finally crossed paths. But see, that was only part of the plan. Seokjin hosted these grand parties, and spread the word throughout the entire city to fuck his way out of a heartbreak he thought was silly to have. He treasured the attention and the numerous dolls flaunting themselves at him—that eventually he’d forgotten all about you.

It was something about big gatherings, quite like these that made your insides churn. A sense of anxiety resided within you when being in the presence of countless individuals. You felt like all of their gazes were solely focused on you; you’d never been a fan of attention. Although, you were unaware this party would change your life.

Drastically.

You desperately attempted to shake off your anxiousness, scanning the environment for anything or something you could do or use as an escape. And then…

Champagne.

Perfect. You thought to yourself, hurriedly scurrying toward the server, grabbing a glass filled with fizzing liquor.

“Thank you,” You noted with a smile and took a sip, an attempt to calm your nerves. But you still couldn’t shake that feeling, that someone was watching you. And it was as if your worst nightmare had come true, because followed by that feeling, there was a voice. One that was calling your name.

“____?” Your body trembled of chills, and you turned around to discover the voice that was noticeably behind you. When your eyes met the tall, slender form, you nearly dropped your wine glass into shattering pieces.

With a gasp, “Seokjin?” you questioned, placing a hand over your chest where a thumping heart hides from behind. His pupils sparkled with something you thought was admiration, and then he shined those perfect, pearly whites that stole your heart in that moment. You thought to yourself, This is it. He’s the one.

“It’s been so long. Wow, I am speechless.” He stated, with an extended hand, “May I?” He probed, rising his eyebrows. You foolishly lended him your hand, his plump lips pressed a gentle kiss on top.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, curious to understand how the universe joined you both together in this moment.

“Follow me,” was all he said. He lead you through the bustling crowd, and into his office. He removed the jacket of his tuxedo while you admired the maroon-tinted walls paired with large bookshelves and persian rugs decorated the space—modern art pieces adding an extra touch. One in particular stood out to you, in which Jin noticed your stare didn’t break away.

“Edward Hopper’s Automat,” He added, whilst standing beside you and relishing the sight of gorgeous pearls that decorated your neckline—thanks to Betty. He was stunned at the beautiful woman you blossomed into. Considering that the last memory he had of you, was when he’d been taken away in a locomobile, and there you stood at the end of the dirt road—with puffy, wet eyes as you cried out his name, begging him to not leave. And so did he, as he waved you goodbye and tears streamed down his cheeks. It was when his entire world fell apart.

Jin lost himself for a moment, reminiscing on the past. “Seokjin?” You said for now the third time, an attempt to get his attention.

“Yes? I- My apologies,” he replied. You shook it off with a giggle, a warmth having filled up your heart. “No need to worry.” You dropped your head low, as a flash of heat washed upon your face, and suddenly you felt shy.

You felt the cool embrace from Jin’s palm on your back, and when you looked up to meet his gaze, he was already staring at you.

With a sigh of relief, he slipped, “I’ve missed you, ____.” You wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him in for a hug, and he smelt of the liquor he’d been dousing himself in, paired with a tantalizing scent of cologne, notes of bergamot, tangerine and a hint of fruity persimmon. As you pull away, you peer into each other’s eyes, his slender fingers graze underneath your chin and you both lock lips with one another—his own tasted of the wine they’d been soaked in from earlier. The amount of desire drowned by your kisses sent a wave of heat through the both of you, and before you could think of pulling away to catch your own breath, Jin pulled away, his fingers lacing into yours to lead you toward the master bedroom.

“I missed you too,” you replied, maybe a little too late, but you still made him smile. His hands found purchase on your small back, “I can’t believe that you’re finally here. I don’t think I’ve ever been more happier in my life.” You caressed his broad shoulders, admiring how he towered over you. Oh how handsome he’d become, you thought.

It was as if both of you read each other’s minds, an unspoken tension between the two of you—like gravity pulled you two together, your actions in tune with each other. He laid on top of you, caressing your body and placing gentle kisses along your jawline and onto your collarbone. His silky sheets felt like bliss under your now scorching skin.

“Seokjin,” You moaned. His fingers found the zipper on the side of your dress, and he removed his bow tie and waistcoat, while undressing himself completely. He gently pulled the delicate material of your dress down and off your body.

“So beautiful,” He slipped, while trailing kisses along your leg and worshiping your body as if he was truly in love with you—especially when he entered you and buried himself to the hilt.

He was your first and he knew this. When you slipped, “I’ve never- Oh!” He simply caressed your cheek and planted kisses onto your now swollen lips, drips of sweat clinging on his forehead, your hands grazing along his back—the heels of your feet digging into his bottom. You couldn’t get the rest of your sentence out, the feeling of his member too much for your being, but there was this nostalgic sentiment that followed afterwards—a drawn out moan muffled by kisses.

“You’re saying that a Jane like you hasn’t had any nookie? Ever?” He chimed in with a chuckle. You slapped his arm in reply, “Well, don’t make fun of me now!”

But instead, you both broke out into a laughter, having completely forgotten about the party that continued on just one floor below.

“You feel so amazing,” Jin moaned, thrusting his hips into your core, your walls clenched relentlessly around him and it made his cock throb. Leaks of pre-cum oozed into you paired with your own wetness, soaking his shaft completely.

“Oh, Please don’t stop!” He picked up the pace and rammed into you, losing control of himself, so much that the headboard knocked against the wall in a beat-making manner. “Don’t stop! Yes, yes!” You egged him on, fueling his hunger.

“You’re such a doll, you know that?” He slipped between breaths. Your being now glued to the sheets from the sweat that accumulated.

He eventually slowed his momentum as an orgasm shortly approached. Your walls contracted around him repeatedly, and you were instantly drowned in euphoria. You hadn’t processed that Jin’s fingers were rubbing your clit furiously, making your orgasm crash upon you. And right after, you felt the warmth of his semen painting your walls—his bedroom now filled with the harmony of your moans.

Seokjin fell beside you on the bed, his chest rising and falling.

“That was amazing,” He slipped in between breaths. But to his surprise, you’d risen from the bed to re-dress yourself.

“Hey…” He hopped up on his feet, his flaccid cock jumping in the process. “Where you going?” He asked, grabbing your wrist.

“I-I shouldn’t keep Betty waiting…” You trailed off, his eyebrows quirked upwards. “She’s my friend. I came with her tonight.” His strong grip pulled you closer toward him; his fingers caressed your face.

“When will I see you again?” He asked, his grip on you becoming tighter. You shrugged your shoulders, because you weren’t sure when you’d see him again or if you’d have the chance to. Some part of you had hope because you know where he lives now, and you know he’s not far away and out of reach.

When you attempted to pull away, he pulled you back again, “Cash or check?” You contemplated a few moments, and with a tilt of your head, you tiptoed to give him a quick peck.

But it all just felt like a dream. One that you didn’t know would come crashing down. Because that’s all you can remember now. His sheets, his face, his voice, his length, and his scent—everything was Seokjin.

—

You came back and more than once. But the next few times, you came alone. It became a routine, almost. You’d join him during the night, and the two of you would escape into the part of his mansion where no one was around—everyone else having occupied the lower level and the courtyard. He’d always bring you to his bedroom, never letting you out in public together. You should have known that was a sign.

Anytime you both were together, you were alone. Because truth is, Seokjin was embarrassed. He held a high status and couldn’t be seen with someone like you. That’s what he told himself. He thought you wouldn’t have come back after the first night, but then you proved him wrong. And he wasn’t going to turn down free sex, especially since you were inexperienced—which gave him more power in the bedroom. He simply went with the flow, taking you as you gave to him.

Yet, you didn’t understand any of it. Especially when one night you took the lead, riding him with your breasts on full display. He moaned your name repeatedly and admitted, “I love you, ____.” And you fell for it, you actually believed him, with his cock fully sheathed inside of you. You were both wrapped up in the moment, your feels at their maximum. Except, you meant it when you replied, “I love you too, Seokjin.” That was the difference.

But one night, he slipped.

You paraded through his estate during one of his parties, brushing past numerous guests and bumping into some, but you couldn’t find him anywhere. He’d normally await for your arrival at the top of the stairwell, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t in the courtyard or the balcony or the pool. Your heart thumped with a never-ending beat, and you couldn’t ignore the feeling.

Eventually, you found yourself entering the room that you remember oh so well, and you wished you hadn’t. The sight you witnessed sent a burning ache within your chest. Moans and groans filled the atmosphere as you neared the bed that contained those golden sheets you’d become familiar with. To say you were horrified was an understatement. Jin was plunging into another woman while another woman sat on the other woman’s face, a sudden churn of your stomach ascended—you felt as though everything you consumed that  day would come right back up.

“S-Seokjin?” You let out, and he abruptly stopped his motions, snapping his gaze toward you. His eyes blown wide and lips parted.

“Fuck!” He spilled, stumbling out of the woman he was in. You turned away, heading beeline for the door. He quickly found his grip on you, and you fought him off, pushing him away and continuously slapping him away.

“How could you? How?!” You screamed. The sound of your heels clicking against the marble floor echoed throughout the palace, as you strutted out and never looked back.

He knew that he fucked up, because truth is, he didn’t even know what he really wanted—but he knew he was selfish. He continued hosting more wingdings, and he never stopped screwing more women. He convinced himself that you were just another Jane he checked off his “To do” list. Because that’s who Seokjin had become. He was no longer that sweet, innocent little boy you once knew. He was no longer your only best friend that you could trust. He was no longer who you thought he was.

—

After receiving the test results from your doctor, that’s when everything sunk in, and you made a promise to yourself that you’d eliminate the abuse of caffeine and tobacco you’d taken within your diet. Although somehow, someway, Seokjin found out that you were pregnant (more than likely it was Betty who told him at his still ongoing wingdings, since you spilled who Mr. Worldwide Handsome is), and he had the guts to show himself at your workplace. He paraded through the establishment, calling out your name. To your embarrassment, you remained at your station, internally cursing yourself for having gotten involved with him.

“____!” He raged, searching for your tired figure. You let out a sigh of exhaustion. And there he stood, with creased slacks in his million-dollar man attire, but his gaze was only focused on you.

“____, we need to talk.” He reassured to you, but too loud for prying eyes nearby. You swiped away the sweat that clung to your forehead.

“Well, I am working. How dare you barge in like this as if you have the right?” You retort with a hint of rage in your tone.

He took a deep breath, not wanting to hear it from you. “Listen, I didn’t come to cause any trouble, alright? We need to talk about my baby.”

You scoffed in reply, “Your baby?” His eyes widen slightly, “I am the one carrying our child! This is our baby, not just yours!” He ran his fingers through his hair in a frustrated manner.

“Last I remember, you were too busy having nookie with those quiff’s who were in the same bed you had knocked me up!” Your chest heaves of anger, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

“You can’t just show up here like you’re this-this- bimbo! Because you’re not!” You hadn’t even realized you’d been yelling the entire time, gaining the attention from your nearby co-workers—who attentively watch your riled up figure, courtesy of your hormones.

Jin attempted to speak, “____, I’m-” but then you cut him off, tiredly yelling, “Beat it, Jin!”

His face instantly contorted into an expression you didn’t like to witness. It was a face of pure defeat. His jaw clenched under your stare, but he turned the other cheek and strutted away. You can’t say you felt sorry for him or embarrassed that you called him out because deep down, you knew that he brought everything upon himself.

—

You had a baby girl, and the moment you met eyes with her, was when you promised yourself you would climb mountains, swim oceans, and fight any battle to protect and love her the correct way—because she is you and you are her. The first two months were tough, yet Seokjin was nowhere to be found. Betty had been there for you through every step of the way, and you were beyond grateful for that. Although, you felt guilty for not letting Seokjin see his daughter, because after all she is still yours and his child. You asked Betty to accompany you to his mansion, where you had hoped to encounter him—but to no avail, you turned up with nothing. The entire palace was abandoned, like a wasteland. No automobiles, no servants, no Jane’s, no Seokjin.

A few days later on your way home from work, you overheard a few pedestrians gossiping about him. “Mr. Worldwide Handsome? I can’t believe it! Is it true? That he’s really on the run?” One of them says, the other woman replies, “Look, it’s in the paper!” Your eyebrows furrow on the spot.

“Pardon me. Can I see that?” You probe, pointing to the newspaper the two ladies were observing, and surely they were right. His photo was in the daily paper, with the headline of the name of Mr. Worldwide Handsome. He was wanted for bootlegging. He never told you who he really was, all he mentioned to you was that he was indeed Mr. Worldwide Handsome, but never confided in you about his supposed work.

Now he was gone, and you had a feeling that he was never coming back, because the first night when you two were reunited, it was in that moment, just as he’d practiced with numerous other women for years—Seokjin had one goal in mind:

To get her.

#bts smut #jin smut #hyunglinenetwork #btsguild #btsgoldnet #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #btswritingcafe #mikrogalaxynet #ficswithluv #kim seokjin #bts fluff #jin fluff

[hellomynameisbisexual]

As I spoke with other self-idenitified bisexuals throughout my college career, I realized that many, including myself, felt a dose of imposter syndrome in both gay and straight spaces. Whether it be comments from fellow queer folk invalidating our sexuality or the general queerphobia prevalent in the larger society, many bisexuals resent the heteronormative stereotypes imposed on them from both the gay and straight communities. Further research into the erasure of the bisexual community indicated that its impact on the mental and physical health of bisexual individuals is tangible.

The term “bisexuality” encompasses many sexual identities including queer and pansexual. According to the Human Rights Campaign (HRC), “Studies suggest that bisexuals comprise nearly half of all people who identify as lesbian, gay or bisexual, making the bisexual population the single largest group within the LGBT community.” As the largest subset of the gay community, it is interesting to note that bisexuals are routinely discriminated against in the LGBT community as well as in the straight community. Despite being the largest population behind heterosexuals, studies suggest biphobia in all facets of society has facilitated the erasure of the bisexual community to the extent that bisexuals can expect to be systematically disadvantaged regarding their physical and mental health,

The prevalent stereotypes about bisexuality that keep bisexuals from coming out are noted in the essay “Bisexuality and Mental Health: Future Research Directions,” published in The Journal of Bisexuality in 2015: “It has been argued that bisexuality has been delegitimized by negative stereotypes, such as ‘bisexuality doesn’t exist as a sexual orientation,’ ‘bisexuals are sexually promiscuous,’ and ‘bisexuals are confused.’ Several studies have found that heterosexual, gay and lesbian individuals may all have negative attitudes toward bisexuality, indicating that bisexual individuals face double discrimination.” The authors, Persson & Pfaus, assert that bisexuals are hesitant to identify themselves for fear of backlash from all facets of society, a statement I can firmly attest to having been personally asked “Can’t you just pick one or the other?” by both gay and straight people. In a press release regarding a study focused on HIV/AIDS in the bisexual community, published in the American Journal for Preventative Medicine by the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, researcher William Jeffries⁠ stated, “Societal biphobia is more prevalent than antigay sentiment.”

Biphobia is prevalent enough to keep bisexuals from coming out to their homosexual counterparts. Historically, homosexuality has been considered taboo and punished with imprisonment and even death; pro-gay movements all over the world trumpet the importance of acceptance and inclusivity, yet gay communities globally refuse to acknowledge bisexuality as a legitimate orientation and discriminate against bisexuals based on this belief. In her article “Inside, Outside, Nowhere: Bisexual Men and Women in the Gay and Lesbian Community,” Kirsten Mclean examined the impact of bisexual attitudes on a group of 60 Australian bisexual men and women, “in terms of their perceptions of, and participation in, the gay and lesbian community.” Analyzing the range of biphobic attitudes within that homosexual community, Mclean’s study attempted to expose how these attitudes effect bisexual participation in said community. She found that, “though some participants were active within the Australian gay and lesbian community, many were not, due to the belief that they would be rejected or discriminated against as bisexual. Furthermore, those who did participate in the gay and lesbian community tended to keep their bisexuality hidden, for fear of being made unwelcome.” I related so much to that sentiment, having been called a “tourist” at a local gay bar when I mustered up the nerve to go with my fiance, a cis bisexual man. We left shortly after, feeling exiled to a life of languishing among the straights at tacky sports bars.

Ostracization from the gay community encourages bisexuals to pursue opposite-sex partners and fade into heteronormative society. A Pew Research Survey conducted in 2013 revealed that 84% of bisexuals end up in hetero relationships. Award-winning bisexual writer Kristina Marusic discussed this statistic, asserting that hetero relationships among bisexuals does not delegitimize their preferences and that the odds of a bisexual having an opposite-sex partner “fall enormously in their favor… the [percentage of the population that is LGBTQ] is actually closer to a scant 3.8 percent. So not only is it statistically more likely that a bisexual person will wind up with a partner of the opposite sex; it’s equally likely that they’ll wind up with someone from the over 96 percent of the population who identifies as straight.” In an interview with the HRC, an anonymous bisexual said “I wish that more people inside the gay community itself would support my decision to call myself bisexual. I am not being selfish. I am not a liar. I am not gay. I am not straight. I am bisexual.” Additionally, according to Mclean, “a large number of gay men and lesbians still flat-out refuse to date bisexuals.” Thus, many bisexuals couple with opposite-sex partners and identify as straight despite their true orientation, as is reflected by Marusic’s statistics.

The idea that there are two exclusive sexualities, gay and straight, has effectively gagged bisexuals, preventing their self-identification in the heterosexual and homosexual communities and ensuring their assimilation into heteronormative society. In her study “Living Life in the Double Closet: Bisexual Youth Speak Out,” Mclean states, “Dominant public discourses endorse heterosexuality and homosexuality as legitimate sexual identities, but do not recognize that some people are neither exclusively heterosexual nor exclusively homosexual.” Mclean interviewed 22 young bisexual people living in Melbourne, Florida. A bisexual woman herself, Mclean employed an interpersonal, interview approach to this research because she was “examining a group that had thus far been both silenced in traditional research on sexuality, but had also, for the most part, silenced themselves.”

There is nothing quite like silencing oneself, no greater discomfort than suppressing an inherent part of who you are. When I was twelve, I was at a large sleepover at a close friend’s house. Her older sister was “watching” our group of a dozen or so girls. At some point, a large bag of assorted liquors was procured. I have always been impulsive: always picking “Dare,” never scared to sneak out and certain in every situation that I was indestructible. As a seventh grader intent on proving my invincibility, I drank eagerly and abundantly. After taking several shots that blazed through my undeveloped chest and sent unfamiliar chills up my spine, I opened my eyes to the stars spinning above me where I lay in the lawn, both exhilarated and terrified at the realization that I was “completely smashed.” My next decipherable memory depicts me sitting semi-upright in the RV parked near the side of the house, the drunken faces of a few of the other girls swimming in front of me as I swayed.

Truth or Dare. I remember thinking, “This should be good.”

I was dared to kiss the girl next to me, a close friend who was as wasted as I was. I recall the nervous flip of my stomach as my lips neared hers. The Dare and I smushed our faces together clumsily. I could taste the vodka and orange juice on her mouth. I found myself falling into the kiss and she seemed receptive. We made out passionately as the other girls leered at us in an inebriated stupor. Eventually, they left us alone in the RV. I woke up the next morning in a crumpled heap on the floor of the RV; my eyelids crunched as I opened them and my lips were so dry they cracked when I sat up and coughed. The Dare was still asleep on the RV couch; last night’s events played through my head as I gazed at her sleeping face. I felt lighter than I ever had, despite having the worst hangover of my existence. I stumbled out of the camper and entered the house; girls were draped all over the furniture, looking at pictures from the previous night and nursing headaches. The room quieted when I entered; they stared at me, their faces inscrutable. I scrubbed my face with my hands to dislodge the various body fluids dried there. Under heavy surveillance, I procured some water and sprawled on the living room floor, head pounding and hands clammy.

“Z, do you remember anything about last night?” Someone asked. I sat up and put a palm to my throbbing temple. “Not really, did anyone get hurt?” I asked, doing a headcount of the girls in the room to see who was missing. Only The Dare was absent. “No..” Another girl piped up, “But you and The Dare like, hooked up.” She giggled anxiously. I flinched at the thinly veiled disgust in her voice, shrinking further and further into myself as I saw it reflected in the eyes of many of the other girls. Instantly, I realized my mistake.

It was a harmless thing to kiss a girl as a dare. It was another, far more heinous thing to enjoy it.

Panic engulfed me as my pubescent brain scrambled to find a way to maintain my position in the social hierarchy of my seventh grade class. Stalling, I sipped my water. I imagined being one of the “dykes” at school, of losing every inch of social capital I’d managed to attain. Frigid tendrils wrapped around my heart and, for the first time in my life, I consciously gave in to cowardice.

I feigned surprise as best I could: “What the fuck are you talking about?” I said, doing a small spit take to really sell it. A titter travelled through the room and girls started talking at once. “During truth or dare!” “You got dared to kiss her and you did!” “You were literally all over each other!” “She touched your boobs!” Their exclamations overlapped, the cacophony splitting my skull open. I silenced them with a shout of my own⁠— “Oh em GEEEE!” I yelled, burying my face in my hands so they couldn’t see the humiliation there. “I was completely wasted, I don’t remember anything. Did she have as much to drink as me?” I said. I knew that she’d been as drunk as I was⁠ but⁠— as I’d known (and maybe even hoped) it could⁠— the question changed the tide of the conversation. “You’re right,” a girl said from the couch, “she like.. Took advantage of you.”

That was not what I’d said but I let her comment fester as the other girls eyed me sympathetically. They no longer saw a lesbian; they saw the victim of one. My insides clenched uncomfortably and I ran to the bathroom, where I emptied my stomach into the toilet bowl.

I felt close to death as I leaned against the bathroom sink, staring at myself in the mirror. I remember my face so vividly: the self-loathing, the repulsion, the guilt and loneliness so clear on my young features as I silently tried to justify what I’d just done. My cheeks were sallow and slick with shameful tears and perspiration as I sweated liquor from my pores.

Not invincible, after all.

The Dare and I’s friendship was never the same. When our classmates made cruel remarks about what happened, I didn’t defend her. I apologized profusely to her after I came out in high school, but I know that wasn’t enough for the trouble I caused her. Though we were just kids experimenting, the reactions of the other girls solidified my denial of my bisexual identity for years to come. I tentatively called myself Bi-curious to a few close friends, but I’d temper it with comments like, “I think girls are pretty but I would never date one.” and “I don’t know how lesbians do it, vaginas are so weird!” My internalized homophobia manifested as a total denial of my bisexual identity when that identity threatened to make me even more of an outsider at my predominately white, conservative middle school. I had boyfriends and a social circle, but suicidal thoughts became a daily occurrence as the hatred I felt for myself deepened.

My experience is more common than I could’ve ever imagined then. After polling and interviewing hundreds of adolescents, the Human Rights Campaign (HRC) concluded that “bisexual youth were much less likely to be out to their families, friends, peers, and communities” than exclusively gay youth. Only 33 percent of UK bisexuals surveyed by the Scotland-based Equality Network felt comfortable telling their general practitioner about their sexual orientation, and nearly half had experienced biphobia when accessing health services. Though there are many variables that contribute to a person’s ability to come out⁠— including but not limited to social and political climate, familial relations, and personal values⁠— the UK’s statistics raise alarms about global attitudes regarding bisexuality and health concerns for bisexuals.

In the United States, lack of preventative care for queer folk begins in grade school, as proper sex education for students attracted to the same sex is sorely lacking. According to a 2017 report by Guttmacher Institute, of the 22 states that mandate sex-ed, only 12 are required to acknowledge sexual orientations. Of those 12 states, 9 mandate inclusive discussion of the different sexual orientations, and 3 “require only negative information on sexual orientation.” Poorly educated bisexuals are less likely to protect themselves from sexually transmitted diseases into adulthood. When The Dare and I were exploring each other, I had absolutely no frame of reference for what we were doing and how to do it safely aside from mainstream pornography tailored for hetero, cis male consumption. No lessons on safe queer sex were taught at my middle or high school; it angers me to know that is the norm.

Erasure impacts mental health as well as physical health for bisexual folk: according to the HRC, “Bisexual adults were also more likely to engage in self-harming behaviors, attempt suicide or think about suicide than heterosexuals, lesbians or gay men.” Bisexuals, especially adolescents, were also more likely to engage in risk taking behavior like alcohol and drug abuse, which negatively impacts both mental and physical health. HRC’s 2012 survey of LGTBQ youth found “only 5 percent of bisexual youth reported being very happy, compared to 8 percent of lesbian and gay youth and 21 percent of non-LGBT youth.” The HRC asserted that poor emotional well-being during adolescence translates into bisexual youth being “twice as likely” to experiment with drugs and alcohol. Furthermore, during research regarding the disparity between bisexual health and that of individuals in the exclusively gay and straight communities, the HRC found that “more than 40 percent of LGBT people of color identify as bisexual, and about half of transgender people describe their sexual orientation as bisexual or queer – making these groups vulnerable to further disparities that occur at the intersections of biphobia, racism and transphobia.”

The well-known yet oft-forgotten “Mother of Pride,” Brenda Howard, spent her life advocating against bi-erasure. She said, “The next time someone asks you why LGBT Pride marches exist or why Gay Pride Month is June tell them ‘A bisexual woman named Brenda Howard thought it should be.’” Until general attitudes in both the gay and straight communities change, bisexuals will continue to repress themselves and feel excluded from both groups. Bisexuals: never let the ignorance of others repress you. You aren’t confused, you aren’t inherently hypersexual and your queer identity is valid. Don’t let anyone, gay or straight, take away your seat at the Pride table.

#bi tumblr #bisexuality #bi #bisexuality is valid #bi pride #support bisexuality #pride #lgbtq pride #lgbtq #lgbtq community #bisexual education #bisexual youth #bi erasure #bisexual erasure #biseuxal #bisexual community #bi youth #lgbt #support bisexual people #respect bisexual people #bisexual representation #bisexual injustice #bisexual info #bisexual tips #bisexual rights #bisexual pride

[justasparkwritings]

Codename Cupid: Chapter 16

Previous: How Cricket Got Her Name 

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook X Reader/OFC/You

Genre: Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Government Agent AU

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 3.04K

Warnings: Swearing 

Summary: Our lovely P.I. goes on the search for Min Yoongi, and stumbles into the identity of the mystery man with Taehyung. 

(this is... rough? did not expect it to be so long...) 

Missing Min Yoongi

Present Day

           My sister always tells me she’s given me all she can, that she can’t help me past my one favor a year. It’s a ploy, a deception, a boldfaced lie she tells at work or anytime we’re in earshot of anyone else. Does she misuse her government clearance? Yes. Does she defy laws and challenge the ethical code? Yes. Has she ever gotten caught? No. You’d think the government would put more tabs on her, considering her sister is a registered and licensed PI, but no, no one seems to bat an eye.

           Min Yoongi, Park Yoongi, Yoongi, is nonexistent. I barely understand what he did at Lee Enterprises, let alone how he ended up bedding Euna. He supposedly comes from no money, no name to build off of, nothing. His grades were fine, his college experience came and went with nary a note of youthful rebellion. Now, now that he’s no longer at Enterprises, I cannot fucking find him. Nothing on the web, nothing in the statewide system, nothing in the national system. No death certificates, no marriage licenses, nothing.

           All I’ve got are his charges, well, Euna’s charges against him.

           Cheating in the 1st degree, no proof, no photos or receipts or basic evidence of his behavior. She had nothing but her recollection of the fight they had, and minimal information on what led to the break up. From her manifesto, it seems that Yoongi was pulling away and she clung to him, claws drawing blood, trying to get him to stay. He didn’t, clearly. With only that to go off of, it’s no wonder I can’t find Min Yoongi, and I’m beginning to think that just maybe, Min Yoongi doesn’t exist. He’s her Snuffleupagus, and I’m starting to not believe.

           While I’m unsure if Yoongi exists, I do know a person who does.

           The man with Taehyung.

           Spectacled and broad shouldered, quaffed hair and arms the size of tree trunks, this man exists. He goes to the gym regularly, religiously, makes his coffee at home, and frequents his local nursery. The man is obsessed with plants, it seems unhealthy. Multiple days a week he’s carrying one, or more, I have photos of him watering them, speaking to them… He tends to them with such care, such love, it’s mesmerizing. He goes to work, some corporation, and once a week meets Taehyung. They’re clearly pals, best friends, brothers. They laugh and eat and enjoy one another. It’s cute, their friendship date. Once in a while, Jimin joins them. The three laugh uproariously and often draw attention for their volume. The unidentified man doesn’t seem to understand how loud he is, his baritone resonating enough for me to hear.

           I haven’t intentionally bumped into the three of them, yet, but I’ve stationed myself near enough to hear bits and pieces of their conversations. They never discuss work, only music they’re listening to, books they’re reading, podcasts, plants, general culture. Have I written down a few of the artists and podcasts they listen to? Yes. Do I feel dirty about it? Yes.

           But it’s the job, and I tail them for a month before a package arrives. A package with my name on it, waiting outside my apartment door. It’s not addressed, no stamps or packing label. It’s new, not reused as a shipping box or gifted for the umpteenth time, no dingy tape sticking to its brown coating. The box is sitting, like it’s appeared out of thin air. A secure building is only as secure as the tenants make it, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the owner snuck in behind some dummy who didn’t see the harm in letting a potential rapist, stalker, murder, into the building. Taking the package inside, and as my blood continues to cool and chills run down my spine, I delicately open it.

           I know, it could be a bomb. However, the only thought calming me down is the knowledge that my life has never once been a Shonda Rhimes production and thus, I’m not really worried this package is a bomb. Frankly, that’s far more sophisticated than any of the people I’ve worked for and gives them too much credit.

           Inside, there are copious amounts of surveillance photos and a note, written in a script that I’ve seen before.

           “That was your last warning / The line has been drawn and you’re bleeding / Next time, face to face is how we’ll be meeting”  

           Whoever heard of a stalker rhyming?

           I bag the evidence to toss under my bed so Jungkook won’t find it and pull out my list of potential threats.

Check It Once, Check It Twice

William Daniels

Cheated on his wife of 5 years with a stewardess who flew almost exclusively on his flights (big shock)

Threatened to ban me from American Airlines -  Jokes on him, I don’t fly American

Photos in the act & audio recordings

Wife divorced him immediately

He has to pay alimony out the nose

Lives in the area

Allanah McMahon

Arrested and tried for insider trading and embezzlement

Discovered who I was when I was subpoenaed to testify

Still in jail

My testimony added a few years to her sentence … oops

Cassie Harrington

Set up a Multi-Level Marketing scheme

Tried to hide out in Hawaii – but changed her Instagram to private after I’d already followed her

Ordered to pay back all the money she stole

On parole

Adam Gregory

Tried to run an illegal adoption agency for homosexual, non binary couples

Paid a fine and on parole – forbidden from creating any LLC’s or Incorporating

Brian Welch

Pissed that I found evidence of his partner cheating but turned him in on charges of possession of child pornography

In jail for kiddy porn and for threatening my life

His husband got everything despite the infidelity

           You acquire quite detailed list of people who want to threaten your life on the daily, but then again, wasn’t it Audre Lorde who said “I’m deliberate and afraid of nothing?” I can’t be afraid. If I’m afraid, they have the power. They have the power to intimidate me, to run my life for me, to make my decisions. I will not back down because they got caught. But I will protect myself, I will keep my license for my gun up and go to the shooting range often. I will strengthen the locks and security of my apartment, and I will ask Jungkook to stay over more, or sleep at his.

           I will not back down, not when Lee Euna has paid me what seems like the cost of tuition at Princeton for a year and wants answers. We signed a contract, didn’t we?

           And who am I if my word is no longer worth anything?

           Instead of harping on the sickening feeling that I’m being watched 24/7, I run through my plans for bumping into Taehyung and his friends. In the weeks that I’ve continued to follow him, he’s solidified Wednesday’s as his night for dinner with friends, and Thursdays as his cultural exploration. He goes to museum openings, concerts, movies, plays, clubs, all on Thursdays. While those nights are fun for me to watch and put on my expense account, it’s Wednesdays that I adore. I love following him from his house to the restaurants and am excited each week to see what he and his friends have chosen.

          This week, it’s an authentic Mexican restaurant. Slipping my coat on, I give them a few minutes before following in.

           The sound of mariachi welcomes me into the yellow painted restaurant. The furniture, dark mahogany against the vibrant walls, is full of people. I note the variety of sombreros, the different colors and patterns, the meanings hidden within the stitchwork. It’s not a large restaurant, but big enough to fit a few large groups of 7-10 people, and plenty of space for smaller groups such as the three men. The hostess asks if I want to sit at the bar, and I request a table near the men. Sitting a few feet away, I’m able to pick up their conversation easily. Instead of jotting it down, I hit record and let the metaphorical tape play.

           “Oh, it wasn’t that bad!” The mystery man says.

           “It was awful, Taehyungie couldn’t stop laughing, every time he hit the ball it went flying in the wrong direction,” Jimin says.

           “I was trying so hard!” Taehyung laughed.

           “That’s the problem, you were trying too hard,” The man tells him. “You’re too pure of heart.”

           “I am not,” Taehyung shook his head.

           “I know, you’ve experienced a lot, Tae,” Jimin says.

           “Joon, here’s the question,” Taehyung says, and I’m momentarily distracted by the utterance of the name, Joon. “You get to pick next week, we heading back to that barbeque place?”

           Jimin erupts in another fit of laughter, Taehyung following suit. It’s cute, watching them interact. I wonder if Jungkook has friends he does things like this with… those nights we aren’t together, if he has friends to spend his time with.

           I wait until they’ve left to take a glance at the signed bill on their table, Taehyung Kim is scribbled, no evidence of the other men, and I’m about to bag evidence when I hear my name.

           “Y/N?” Taehyung asks.

           “Taehyung! That was you!” I smile.

           “Have you been here the whole time?” Taehyung’s eyebrows express more than anyone’s I’ve ever seen.

           “I, yeah. I wasn’t sure it was you and Jimin. I didn’t want to interrupt,” I tell him.

           “Oh, you could’ve! Don’t worry about them, we’ve been friends a long time,” Taehyung smiles, it’s boxy and wide, the edges curling as his eyes soften.

           I’ve already started my dance, a waltz to an even tempo and I’ve got the next five paces planned. “Who was that new guy?”

           “Why, you single?” Taehyung smirks, his lips no longer joyful but devious.

           “I just was curious,” I reply, “And no, I’m not single, remember?”

           “Oh yes, yes, Jungkook,” Taehyung recalls with a nod.

           “You, Jimin and that other guy, go way back?” I lead him, it’s easy to lead Taehyung, he’s pure of heart, the most honest intentions in his eyes.

           “Mm, yes,” He continues smiling at me.

           “Your dinner looked fun, I’ll definitely be coming back to this place,” I tell him. It’s true, maybe I will bring Jungkook by one night when I know these three men won’t be around.

           “Yeah, we like it. We try a new restaurant every week. It’s a fun no work zone,” His arms are relaxed at his sides, one hand slipping slowly into his pocket, his cardigan open and glasses pressed close to his ebony eyes.

           “I like that, no work zone,” I agree, I wish I had one of those.

           “Yes, it helps clear the mind,” Taehyung tells me.

           “Do the three of you work together?” I inquire.

           “Kind of, we have a lot of the same shared interests,” he sidesteps.

           I nod, the final step in our dance presenting itself. “Very cool, well I don’t want to keep you from Jimin and –

           “Joon, yeah, very considerate of you. Maybe I’ll see you at the dog park again?” He asks.

           “Oh god, I hope not, Maisie is a nightmare,” I laugh.

           “Well have a good night, Y/N, take care!” He says as he walks out the door. I stand, watching, pretending to not notice how he gets in the car swiftly, not looking back.

           Joon.

           Joon.

           Joon.

           What kind of a name is Joon? If Taehyung and Jimin, and Jungkook, and Seokjin… and Yoongi, are all Korean, must Joon be short for something Korean?

           Glancing at my phone, it’s only 8:30PM, if I hurry, I can get in another few hours of work before I’m overcome with exhaustion and anxiety. But what will I find?

Oh Joon

Kim Joon

Lee Joon

Joon-Ho

Joon-Hee

Joon-Hyuk

Joon-Ki

Joon-Tae

Joon-Young

Byung-Joon

Ha-Joon

Hee-Joon

Hyung-Joon

Jae-Joon

Kyung-Joon

Jae-Joon

Kyung-Joon

Yong-Joon

Nam-Joon

Joon-Su

Ye-Joon

           Not to mention add in the top 5 Korean last names, and I’ve got hundreds of possibilities. Luckily, I can run the name against the address of the apartment building Taehyung picked Joon up from. Being a PI means I have access to the state databases, which gives me names and addresses. In the building, there’s one Joon, a Namjoon, Kim Namjoon. I pull the information before digging into my search.

           Unlike the seemingly nonexistence of Min Yoongi, Kim Namjoon is present. Every search result yields a perfectly manicured article dating anywhere from the year of his birth to age sixteen, and then, much like everyone else on this case, the trail begins to run cold. Whatever happened to him during high school, still radiates through his file. Whether he’s shaken it or not, that’s the question.

           No known career or job at all, his status as a prodigy in math, linguistics and rhetoric is astonishing. One of the highest IQ’s of recent memory, he’d mastered calculus by the time he was 8, besting PhD’s by 13, and then in a blaze of glory, disappearing by 16. He was studied, written about, documented, photographed, and somehow managed to be nominated for a Nobel Prize… how he accomplished all of that during puberty is beyond me. Not only does he accomplish that, but then, disappears completely, without a trace. How?

I’m ready to pack it in when someone steps into my office.

           “I saw the light on,” She says.

           “Ms. Lee, what do I owe this surprise visit?” I ask. This is the exact opposite of what I wanted to do tonight.

           “I wanted to, to talk to you,” She takes a few steps forward, pausing to ask for unspoken permission.

           “Please, sit. What did you want to talk to me about?” I lean back, hoping she can’t see the bags forming under my eyes or the tears from the yawn I’m stifling.

           “I wanted to tell you about, about why I need you to find Min Yoongi,” Euna informs me. She’s dressed in what can only be described as winter white, and only as a cashmere sweatsuit. Never have I ever seen such glamor in my dingy office. I feel bad that she’s risking the integrity of her outfit by being here.

           “Oh, okay,” I sit up and reach for a notebook. “Do you want me to write this down?”

           “No, you don’t need to. We can just talk between women, between friends,” Euna’s voice is soft. The slack in her jaw, the demur manner in which her hands are placed on her lap, it’s evident she doesn’t know how to be girlfriends. Raised by her family, groomed to take over, friends was never a word in her vocabulary.

           “I wanted you to know that I really saw a future with Yoongi,” She starts. “You know that place in your heart where you hold all your hopes?”

           “Yes,” I say hesitantly.

           Her eyes narrow in warning, “Do you have someone, someone who’s beginning to fill that space?”

           “Um, yeah,” I reply.

           “I thought that’s what Yoongi was. I thought we were, we were building something. Jun-Seo had Jimin, they thought they were building an illustrious future together, but one day he disappeared too.” She pinches the slight bridge of her nose, inhaling slowly to steady her nerves. “I don’t know what changed in our relationship. Yoongi didn’t want me anymore, he didn’t want to be around me, or with me at all. A switch flipped, like one day he realized he didn’t love me in the first place. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know why, but when your entire future is destroyed, do you stand back and watch it burn?”

           “Do you want me to answer that?” I ask.

           “Sure, what I did after that was terrible, but it was within reason. Everything I did was within reason. I tried to hold onto him, I did what I thought was right to get him to stay and he just, ran. Bolted, broke up with me on the phone like I’m Taylor Swift in 2012. Maybe I am,” Euna rolls her eyes, the comparison both too true and too terrifying. “At least Seokjin had the kindness to break up with me in person. But Yoongi? The coward! He knew I loved him. He knew I would carry his child, would marry him, would love him eternally and then some. I would’ve done anything for him. Even after he refused to go family dinners or go on trips with Seo and Jimin, after he started lying and cheating and stealing. He broke my heart, shattered it. If anyone is to blame for what happened after our relationship, it’s him.”

           Interested peaked, I inquire “What happened?”

           “It’s in my document,” She snaps.

           “The handwritten one?” I clarify.

           Rolling her delicate ebony irises, “Yes, of course.”

           “The abortion, the embezzlement, insider trading?” I try to rattle off the accusations she’d detailed. Somewhere I had a list and had sorted them by man, but damn, there were a lot of them.

           “Yes,” She snips.

           “That’s all true?” I ask again. The look she gives me is unwarranted, this is the first time in months, nearly a year, that she has sat down with me and discussed the charges. I am well within my right as her Private Investigator to ask clarifying questions.

           “Do you make a conscious decision to not believe your clients? Am I not paying you enough Y/N?” Euna snaps.

           “I’m sorry,” I respond.

           “I should go, I expect next week at our meeting you will have an update on the mystery man,” She stands.

           “Yes, yes, I will,”

           “Good, oh, there was a note under your door. I didn’t pick it up,” She turns and walks, stepping gingerly over the note. Scrambling behind her, I pick up the folded paper, and scrawled in crystal clear letters it reads:

           Cricket, was driving past when I saw the light on. Why are you working? Come to mine when you’re done, it’s been three restless nights without you.

          XO – Bunny 

           Fuck me, I love him.

Next: Cricket & Bunny Pt. 1 

#BTS #Jeon Jungkook fanfic #Jeon Jungkook x you #Jeon Jungkook x reader #codename #code name #code name cupid #codename cupid #BTS fluff #min yoongi #park jimin #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #secret agent au #government agent au #secret agent au #BTS agent #houseofddaeng #thebtswritersclub #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #bangtanarmynet

[chocolatte-and-despair]

Hello, Annie, your content is just as amazing as always!~ Can I ask for a matchup? I am a 5'1 petite cisgender girl, mainly girly-comfy clothes, sometimes mature clothes. Very optimistic, cheerful, chaotic (which means impulsive: I want a coconut, I buy one)! Studying chemistry (+ maths), into drawing and other creative stuff. Meme lord, self confident (with healthy narcissism), proud of myself and try to help others find their way. Kinda chill inspite of being energetic. Stay safe, love ya!

After thinking for a little bit, I decided to give you ... Bratty (Undertale Bratty)! Here are a few reasons why! First of all, Bratty is quite a chaotic person too, so she would completely go along with whatever you would think of, and bring you along to her own impulsive adventures. 

Bratty would always show interest in whatever you do, and would probably try to learn what you know, before giving up on it, saying that you should probably focus on that alone. 

Bratty would be pretty chill herself, and find having you around to be quite fun, seeing as almost always having you around is an adventure. 

* Their  age: Human age: 1130 years old, monster age: 23 years old

* Their  height: 5'9 feet

* Their  yandere type: Cheerful yandere

* Their  dere type: Deredere

* Their  Sexuality: Cisgender Female Homosexual Demiromantic

A . How would they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? - Bratty would show her affection by sharing everything with you and bringing you along on her adventures. She would also introduce you to Catty, hoping that you two would get along, because why wouldn’t she want her two favorite girls to get along? 

B. What type of future are they planning with their lover? - Bratty doesn’t like to think about the future, ya know? Why would she want to worry about what will happen in a few years, when she can just live in the present?

C. What is the scariest moment with them? - Bratty, in the end, is a crocodile monster. Her teeth are sharp enough to kill someone. Do you understand where I’m going? whenever Bratty thinks that you are cheating on her, she can easily kill whoever she thinks you are cheating on her with. 

D. How do they usually act with their lover? - Bratty would act more like a friend than a lover. She would bring you around to self-care places, to get massages, hair cuts, and all those nice things, while just gossiping with you about what the local monsters did. 

E. How would they court their lover before? - Bratty would become your friend before anything. After that, she would make her intentions pretty clear, with a single ‘I, like, like like you. Wanna, like, go out?’. If you say no, then she will give up, returning to be friends, but if you accept, she won’t give up on you anymore. 

F. What's their favorite memory/thing in the relationship? - Bratty can still remember the first time you two met. She knew from there that you would be a good friend. Who would have known that things would have turned out like this, right? Well, she was happy. 

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