dumping rubbish

Why English is Weird

A series of poems, sentences, and other works that describe the oddity of the English language. Have fun reading these out loud!

Pronunciation

I take it you already know
Of tough and bough and cough and dough?
Others may stumble but not you
On hiccough, thorough, slough and through.
Well done! And now you wish perhaps,
To learn of less familiar traps?

Beware of heard, a dreadful word
That looks like beard and sounds like bird.
And dead, it’s said like bed, not bead-
for goodness’ sake don’t call it ‘deed’!
Watch out for meat and great and threat
(they rhyme with suite and straight and debt).

A moth is not a moth in mother,
Nor both in bother, broth, or brother,
And here is not a match for there,
Nor dear and fear for bear and pear,
And then there’s doze and rose and lose-
Just look them up- and goose and choose,
And cork and work and card and ward
And font and front and word and sword,
And do and go and thwart and cart-
Come, I’ve hardly made a start!
A dreadful language? Man alive!
I’d learned to speak it when I was five!
And yet to write it, the more I sigh,
I’ll not learn how ‘til the day I die.

~

Verbs: The Past Tense

The teacher claimed it was so plain,
I only had to use my brain
She said the past of throw was threw.
The past of grow -of course- was grew,
So flew must be the past of fly,
And now, my boy, your turn to try.
But when I trew,
I had no clue, if mow was mew -
Like know and knew
Or was it knowed
Like snow and snowed

The teacher frowned at me and said
The past of feed was - plainly - fed.
Fed up, I knew then what I ned:
I took a break, and out I snoke.

She shook and quook (or quaked or quoke?)
With raging anger out she broke:
“Your ignorance you want to hide?
Tell me the past form of collide!”
But how on earth should I decide
If it’s collid (Like hide and hid)
Or else - from all that I surmose,
The past of rise was simple rose,
And that of ride was surely rode
So of collide must be collode?

Oh damn these English verbs, I thought
The whole thing absolutely stought !
Of English I have had enough.
These verbs of yours are far too tough.
Bolt upright in my chair I sat,
And said to her “That’s that. I quat!”.

~

Homophones

  • The bandage was wound around the wound.
  • The farm was used to produce produce.
  • The rubbish dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.
  • We must polish the Polish furniture.
  • He could lead if he would get the lead out.
  • The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.
  • Since there is no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the present.
  • A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum
  • When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.
  • I did not object to the object.
  • The insurance was invalid for the invalid.
  • There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.
  • They were too close to the door to close it.
  • The buck does funny things when the does are present.
  • A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.
  • To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.
  • The wind was too strong to wind the sail
  • After a number of injections my jaw got number.
  • Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear.
  • I had to subject the subject to a series of tests
  • How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?

~

General Weirdness 

There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren’t invented in England or French fries in France (Surprise!). Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren’t sweet, are meat.

Quicksand works slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig. And why is it that writers write but fingers don’t fing, grocers don’t groce and hammers don’t ham?

If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn’t the plural of booth beeth? One goose, two geese. So one moose, two meese? Doesn’t it seem crazy that you Can make amends but not one amend. If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it? Is it an odd, or an end?

If teachers taught, why don’t preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell? How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites?

You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up and down at the same time and, in which you fill in a form by filling it out, and in which, an alarm goes off by going on.

Why do you drive on a parkway and park on a driveway. English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race, which, of course, is not a race at all. That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible. And while we’re at it, why doesn’t “Buick” rhyme with “quick”?

brainwad  asked:

Your comment about Chicago decaying made me think of the Dresden Files, & how Harry remarks that Chicago is built on Chicago, bc the swampy ground means everything is slowly sinking. How true is this?

100% true. Chicago is built on a swamp, predominantly between a river and a lake. Supposedly “Chi ka gua” means “swamp of the stinking onions” in a local indigenous language (I thiiiiiink the Potawatomi but I could be mistaken, don’t quote me).  

Prior to the introduction of the grillage in Chicago architecture – again don’t quote me but I believe a Chicago architect invented the grillage to deal with Chicago’s unique challenges – high-rise (for the time) buildings would be constructed with a built-in “sink” measurement, usually between eight and eighteen inches. Ground-level doors were placed slightly above ground level with the expectation that over the course of a year or two, the building would sink as it settled into the swampy soil. If you go to the Rookery Building on a Wednesday and take the Chicago Architectural Society tour they will take you into the service corridors of the building, which is pre-grillage, and you can see the frankly fascinating ways in which the floor of the building warped as it settled. 

A grillage is a series of steel beams layered across one another horizontally, which works a little like a raft, allowing a building to “float” on Chicago’s swampy soil; most buildings from the last century, including the one I live in, have a grillage underneath them. Someday a big earthquake is going to hit and it’s going to look awesome from somewhere other than inside Chicago. 

Additionally, the “Streeterville” neighborhood is named for a pirate and all-round asshole named Streeter who basically salvaged and dumped any goddamn rubbish he could find around a sandbar in the lake until he had literally extended Chicago out into the lake in a large enough swath to create an entirely new neighborhood, which is now one of the most expensive areas to live in. That part of Chicago is very literally built on Chicago, as I believe one of the sources of his rubbish was haul-off from the Great Chicago Fire. 

And to conclude there are parts of Chicago, just south of Streeterville, where factories creating very toxic byproducts dumped industrial waste, so part of Chicago is literally radioactive and you can’t build there without extensive soil studies being done to make sure you won’t kick up the radioactive dust and poison everything in the immediate vicinity. 

Chicago’s municipal motto, by the way, is “Urbs in Horto” which translates as “The City in the Garden”.

2

The Belinsky Cannibal

Alexander Vladimirovich Bychkov is a Russian serial killer convicted of the murders of nine men in Belinsky, Penza Oblast, between 2009 and 2012.

Bychkov, who referred to himself as “Rambo”, was so infuriated by homeless people and street alcoholics that he would lure them to either his home, or a deserted area, and murder them with a hammer or knife. He would then dismember the corpses and bury the remains in both his backyard and the city’s rubbish dump.

Bychkov was only 24 years old when he was caught, he was arrested after he broke into a hardware store to steal knives. Police found in his home a personal diary in which he called himself a “lone wolf”, and claimed to be responsible for 11 murders. In the diary he also wrote that he began to murder after being kicked out by his girlfriend, his motivation to kill was a desire to impress her.

Whilst being questioned by police, he admitted to eating the livers, hearts and muscles of his victims.

Bychkov was diagnosed with mixed personality disorder but declared mentally competent to stand trial. He was found guilty of nine murders and a burglary. The bodies of two other victims mentioned in the diary were never found.

On March 22nd, 2013, Bychkov was sentenced to life imprisonment by the Penza Oblast Court.

I’m sure this would be a lot better if I’d put any effort into it but I’m running on no sleep. Decided to badly doodle this :D enjoy my dudes. 


idk none of this is canon related but Rimmer is totally mad and ends up pushing himself to the limit with his sleep schedule until he ends up crashing out whenever he gets the chance. The precious boy needs his rest :o 

Conflict of Interests

Request: 23,28,34 sirius pls!!

Word Count: 1,014

23. “You are the biggest tosser I have ever met in my life.”

28. “You’re hot, shame about that personality.”

34. “I mean… it’s not that bad.”

Prompt List

Sirius Black was without a single doubt the most handsome boy in Hogwarts. His black hair wouldn’t be half as special if it wasn’t so long and shiny – but it was, and that made him look ten times as hot whenever he flipped it to the side –, and his grey eyes set him apart from everyone else, reminding you of foggy mornings where you could get lost in a book as much as you could get lost in his eyes. However, no one’s perfect – not even Sirius, as much as he would like to think so.

Completely opposite to his looks is his personality. Many times you thought he was part cactus, it was the only explanation you could find to him being such a prick. He was childish, inconsiderate, sometimes a bit rude, and also the biggest flirt in the history of magic. And the latter would be fine, if he hadn’t dated every single girl in school, breaking most of their hearts. Countless times you wondered if it bothered him – if he felt guilty – but after seven years of watching him carelessly handle people’s hearts you figured he didn’t have an ounce of compassion in his body.

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Feels Good At First (Connor Murphy X Reader)

WC: 2098 

Warnings: Swearing, kinda angsty, bad puns 

Tagged: @lildipstick @bellasabb @ahhhhamilton @linslovelylocks 

Summary: The story of Y/N and Connor’s relationship, told via Train’s ‘Feels Good At First' 

A/N: I only used half of the song bc if I’d used the whole song it’d be wayyyy too long. Bonus points to anyone who picks up both my little Train references. Also, I apologise for the terrible pun I used for Y/N’s restaurant. I came up with it this morning and had to use it somewhere.  

Teach me to fall and I’ll teach you to sing, when life keeps stealing your melody. Around your finger, I’ll be a string.

“Connor Patrick Murphy! You never told me you could sing.” I said, ceasing Connor’s singing. His head whipped around to face me, like a deer in headlights.

“Y/N, what the hell?” Connor said, trying to cover his embarrassment up with anger.

“You never told me you could sing, Murphy.” I said, slightly more forceful this time. Connor’s cheeks went a bright pink colour, the air around us becoming slightly awkward.

“Mom put me in the church choir when I was little, ok?” He admitted after a period of silence, and my face contorted into a shocked smile.

“Oh my god. I’m just imagining you in that cute little blue robe they put all the choir kids in.” I said, bursting out into peals of laughter.

“Shut up! No one but my family knows about my jaded past, and I have a reputation to uphold.” Connor said, trying to sound professional, but this made me laugh even harder.

I pulled him into a hug, and I felt his tense body relax slightly. “Easy, babe. I’m not gonna tell anyone that big, bad Connor Murphy was a choir boy.” I said, rubbing his back soothingly.

He let out a resigned sigh, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Thanks Y/N. I love you.” Connor whispered, lazily wrapping his hands around my waist.

We stood there for a minute, content in the comfort of each other’s embrace. Suddenly, an idea popped into my head, and I untangle myself from Connor (much to his annoyance).

“I want you to teach me how to sing. You know, properly. With vocal warmups and shit like that.” I announced, and Connor quirked his eyebrows up.

“Really? I’m not exactly qualified to teach, babe.” Connor said, and I pouted, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t care that you’re not qualified. Qualifications are for people with too much money and even more spare time.” 

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anonymous asked:

tell us the story about the glass eyes!!

As you wish. It isn’t terribly long, and I must be vague, because I believe with specifics it would be far too easy to find me. But here it is.

Where I currently reside, there was a small problem. That being that when the first settlers came here and began building, they neglected to look into tides. They built things on the flats, and didn’t bother to check with the natives if that might be a bad idea. So it was that by the close of the first decade of our town’s history, most of the critical buildings and main streets of town were knee deep in water half of the day.

It didn’t really trouble too many working people, because the mill was down there and the water was somewhat of a help in floating logs about (we slid them down a muddy street and into the water, floating them into their milling stations - the birth of the phrase “Skid Row”). But everyone else hated it. Especially when the first indoor plumbing appeared and the rising tides caused suction to the one exit pipe. Toilets, one large drainage pipe, suction. You can imagine that flushing during certain times of day was also quite a bad idea.

Anyway, as so often happens, along came a fire. Burned down the whole bloody thing. And the town leaders took it as an opportunity. Plans were put into effect to artificially raise the streets and create a kind of architectural honeycomb beneath them to ensure that the flooding had an outlet - a city on stone stilts. Despite this plan, private builders began reconstruction of buildings on the original street level. It didn’t matter, because the truth is, the elevation of the streets would take a very long time, and business had to go on.

So it was that stone structures sprang up, with fine doorways and decorations. Masons, like myself, built up the substructure for the new street levels in a kind of barricade, such that streets would look less like roads and more like a series of canals dried up. A building, a narrow passage, a wall, the inner workings of the streets, then another retainer wall, another passage, and the building across the street. Pedestrians had to leave a building, climb a ladder, walk a narrow bridge, drop down a ladder and then cross the passage to get into the building across the street. After the sub-works and buttresses were completed with masonry, we back-filled the street channel to create additional support, put paving on it, then bricked over the sidewalk passages, cutting the lower stories of the buildings off. Windows became doorways, and now there is a catacombs beneath the feet of the average pedestrian that many of them never know about.

Now we come to the eyes.

Around the time that we determined the street works were complete, we realized we didn’t have anything to put in them. No back-fill. We turned to industry. “Come dump rubbish here, but please, nothing that can degrade.” Local factories and whatnot were more than welcome to dump their refuse into the hollows between the retainer walls. Machinery, masonry, beams, offcast bits, loads and loads of rubbish to build up the center. But also, to make a sort of time capsule. I now recall that there was a factory, tiny though it was, that made glass eyes for dolls and the like. I think it went out of business around the turn of the century, but it was, as I recall, up and running about this time.

But you can imagine what a stark impression it made upon the street construction crew in this century, when they opened up a part of that street works to repair it and uncovered a pit of thousands of glass eyes. They’re no strangers to the odd bits of our history, and it is common practice to leave the pits open to the archaeologists among you for a brief time. Some items are retrieved, and some covered over again, assuming that some large problem doesn’t need to be repaired. A pit of eyeballs, however, is a bit of a strange outlier.

When i read about it in the paper, I think I laughed myself hoarse. I had no idea glass eyes had ever been dumped in the street works, because I was not working in that location at that time. It did however give me a fit, imagining these poor blokes standing about in their reflective vests and hard hats, looking down at the street, looking back up at them from a thousand little glittering peepers.

Poor chaps.

2

On 11th July 1990, twenty-three-year-old Sarah MacDiarmid disappeared from a railway station in Melbourne, Australia. She has not been seen since. Police do believe that she met with foul play, and consider her dead but have vowed to never stop looking for her.

The last time anyone saw Sarah, she was heading to her vehicle in a dimly lit car park. This was around 10:20 PM. Later, numerous people would come forward to say that around this time they had heard a female voice yell out “Give me back my keys!”. 

More than 250 police officers were involved in 21-day air, sea and land search for Sarah, but no trace of her could be discovered. Suspects did involve the convicted Australian serial killer Paul Denyer but he denied any involvement. Psychics have suggested that she had been murdered and her body discarded in a rubbish dump, but as far as anyone knows, there is no evidence to support this theory. 

In 2004, the government, along with an anonymous benefactor, offered the reward of $1,000,000 for any information that solves the mystery of what happened to Sarah.

If you have any information, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, please contact Crime Stoppers on 1800 333 000.

Monet on the Run - 2. Refusals
In 1868, the Jury of the Paris Salon had still admitted Monet’s work to the Salon, but when the exhibition was rearranged mid-way to spotlight the medal winners and the government purchases, his paintings were moved to a remote gallery, known as the ‘dépotoir’ or rubbish dump. The entries of his friends Renoir and Bazille suffered the same fate.
One year later, Monet’s submissions didn’t even pass the Jury’s verdict. To a large extent, he could blame it on Jean-Louis Gérome, a successful academic painter and an influential member of the Jury.

‘The Magpie’ was Monet’s other refused work of that year. Today, it is considered to be one of Monet’s best snowscapes (and there are about 140 of those).

Claude Monet, La Pie (The magpie), 1869. Oil on canvas, 89 x 130 cm. Musée d’Orsay, Paris

[1D] The Naked Guy

Title: The Naked Guy
Ship: Narry (Niall Horan x Harry Styles)
Genre: non-famous AU, fluff, kinda absurd
Rating: T (there’s some swearing I guess)
Word count: ~1k
Summary: After moving into a new flat, Niall soon discovers that the neighbor opposite doesn’t close their curtains very often. 
A/N: Shoutout to @aceniall for sending this great prompt! <3 Hope you’ll like it, bub <3

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anonymous asked:

Imagine if murdoc and s/o were doing somthing (I dunno whatever you think) but s/o did something wrong by accident and murdoc got like SUPER angry and makes s/o cry? (You can end it happy if you want?)

(angst? on MY blog? it’s more likely than you think)

(ALSO this is kind of abusive?? he’s horrible in this fic lol sorry)

Murdoc had been on edge lately. It wasn’t that he was being intentionally cruel but he was picking more fights and was in a constant bad mood. You’d chalked it up to work and the stress of the new album and it was some what understandable. It still didn’t change the fact that you were walking on eggshells around him. He was distant and even when you tried to cheer him up he seemed cold and uninterested. It was like he didn’t know you, you couldn’t tell if you were just being sensitive or if you felt like you should be angry.

Whenever he got into one of these moods the house would turn into a rubbish dump. The place was filled with empty beer bottles, discarded takeaway boxes and rejected song lyrics. You hated living like this and you decided that you should at least clean up a bit. It was early afternoon and he still wasn’t up, he was probably still pissed you thought to yourself. You started picking up all the glass bottles, placing them on the side. You were washing the dishes when you heard movements upstairs. Well at least he was up. You dried your hands up and headed to the cupboard to get the vacuum cleaner. You passed each other in the hallway and you couldn’t even make eye contact with him. You got the vacuum out and plugged it in. When you turned it on you could hear Murdoc groan.

“Do you really need to hoover this early?”

“Its 1:30pm,” you shot back.

“It’s giving me a head ache turn it off!”

“Well thats what you get for getting drunk every night this week.” You weren’t even bothered with keeping your cool, you were mad and there was no hiding it. 

“Oh don’t be a bitch, not right now.” He went over to the outlet and yanked the plug out of its socket.

“MURDOC WHAT THE FU-” You were interrupted by the sound of glass shattering. You’d knocked over most of the bottles you’d placed on the side earlier. You jumped and turned to Murdoc, who clearly wasn’t happy.

“OH FOR FUCKS SAKE!” He turned away and punched the nearest wall.

“Murdoc?” You said warily. He turned back to you with eyes filled with venom. He stormed towards you backing you into the wall.

“YOU ALWAYS FUCKING DO THIS. YOU ACT ALL HIGH AND MIGHTY AND WIND ME UP AND I’M FUCKING SICK OF IT YOU SELF RIGHTEOUS COW. I WORK MY ARSE OFF FOR YOU AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME YOU SELFISH COW!” Hot tears were streaming down your face. He’d never been like this with you before and you felt trapped. You almost expected him to whack you across the head.

“Murdoc please,” you whispered. He backed away and ran his hands through his hair.

“Get out.”

“Murdoc don’t be like this.”

“Get out and don’t come back.” You were distraught but there was nothing you could do you grabbed your coat not daring to look back at him. He’s made his choice.

7

WE ASK THE WORLD TO KEEP AN EYE ON US TODAY.

On September 26, 2014, 43 students from the Raúl Isidro Burgos Rural Teachers College of Ayotzinapa went missing in Iguala, Guerrero, Mexico.
According to official reports, they had travelled to Iguala that day to hold a protest for what they considered discriminatory hiring and funding practices by the government. During the journey the local police intercepted them and a confrontation ensued. Details of what happened during and after the clash remain unclear, but the official investigation concluded that once the students were in custody, they were handed over to the Guerreros Unidos crime syndicate and presumably killed.

Mexican authorities believe that Iguala mayor José Luis Abarca Velázquez and his wife María de los Ángeles Pineda Villa were the probable masterminds of the abduction. Both of them became fugitives after the incident along with the town’s police chief Felipe Flores Velásquez. The couple was arrested about a month later in Mexico City. The mass kidnapping of the students quickly snowballed into the biggest political and public security scandal Mexican President Enrique Peña Nieto had faced in his administration. It led to massive protests all across Mexico, particularly in the state of Guerrero and Mexico City, and condemnations at a global scale.

A mass grave, initially believed to contain the charred bodies of 28 of the students, was discovered near Iguala on October 5, 2014. They had been tortured and, according to reports, burned alive, three gang members confessed to loading them on to trucks, murdering them at a landfill, burning their bodies and dumping their remains in a river.
“The detainees pointed out that in this area they took the lives of the survivors and then they put them under the rubbish dump where they burnt the bodies.”They took shifts so that the fire lasted hours, using diesel, petrol, tires, plastic.”
Subsequent reports raised the estimate of the number of found bodies to 34.
On October 14, police announced that forensic tests had shown that none of the 28 bodies from the first mass grave corresponded to the missing students, but the same day four additional graves, with an unknown number of bodies, were discovered.

Many protesters in Mexico City carried handmade banners with the words Ya me cansé (“I’ve Had Enough” or “I’m Tired”), in reference to a comment made by Mexico’s attorney general, Jesús Murillo, at the end of the press conference on Friday.
The phrase has been turned on its head to express public exhaustion with both the violence that has taken hold in many parts of Mexico, where organised criminal activity is protected by corrupt authorities, as well as the federal government’s failure to act against it, which many believe underpins the events in Iguala.
Protesters also chanted: “It was the state”, in an effort to push home the message that the federal authorities have yet to accept the depth of the institutional crisis exposed by the apparent massacre.

Please don’t believe when they say that the 43 missing students of Ayotzinapa were brutally murdered. The government has not presented any physical proofs. The parents of the missing boys have not accepted the government’s explanation, arguing that it is merely a strategy to shut them down. They demand the truth, the Mexican state is a criminal state, and it will do anything to shake this case off.

We demand that the truth about Mexico has to be told, our media is partial to our corrupt government, but we have social media and we have our streets, we will march, we will protest, we will not remain silent.

These 43 students are not the first ones and we know they won’t be the last ones.We are tired of a repressor, murderer and corrupt government that kills its own people. DON’T LEAVE US ALONE. WE COULD CHANGE. WE COULD SAVE LIVES, WE NEED EACH OTHER.

PLEASE SHARE OUR INFORMATION, OUR VIDEOS, OUR PLIGHT.

“WE WERE SEARCHING FOR 43 BUT WE FOUND HUNDRED, THOUSANDS, WITHOUT A FACE, WITHOUT AN IDENTITY.”

#AccionGlobalporAyotzinapa #JusticeForAyotzinapa #YaMeCanse

GREECE. Lesbos. Mithymna. March 10, 2016. A stray cat walks on used life vests lying on a makeshift rubbish dump hidden in the hills. Local authorities had started to clean the beaches of life vests and destroyed dinghies used by refugees and migrants after crossing the sea from Turkey to Lesbos.

Photograph: Alexander Koerner/Getty

Translation: (VIA: DRAMA-TALKCDS / SOURCE: DRAMA-TALKCDS)

Ruki: Diabolik Lovers

Raito: More, Blood

Yuuma: Special Tokuten Drama CD

Shuu: The curse of Odessa

Subaru: Cornered Vampires

*The heroine is playing card game with the Sakamaki Triplets*

Ayato: Oih, chichinashi[1]! Don’t hesitate! Just pull out one quickly! Whichever you pull, it’s settled that you’ll be left with the Joker actually. *laugh* *The heroine pull out one card* !! Chichinashi… For a mere flat-chested you could dodge to pull the Joker!

Kanato: Next is me, right? Well, because I know that the Joker is on Ayato, in one round I know where the Joker is. I could pull one card from this blockhead in peace.

Raito: Right, right, next is me. Geez… because Ayato declare that he himself has the Joker, there’s no tension in the game. How boring~ Ufu…

Ayato: Damn! Next I’ll make chichinashi to pull it out! HERE!! Yosh, chichinashi, it’s your turn! Now, take one! Take my Joker away!! Not that one! It’s on the right side! Take that card!!

Subaru: Hah… Playing Old Maid? How stupid! Moreover you’re all pressing her to be the old maid? So ridiculous! What’s so fun about it?

Kanato: *chuckle* Subaru, you want to join us?

Subaru: Ha? Don’t joke around! Who wants to play such a stupid game!

Shuu: Oi… so noisy… geez… the Rachmaninoff [2] is spoiled! What should I do now? Ha? What the hell with you… what a brave! You told me to play Old Maid with you all? Ridiculous! I’m not interested! If you really want me to join, you have to plead me here.

Raito: As usual, what an unreasonable thing to say, Shuu.

Shuu: There is no man in this residence who is not a tyrant, right?

Raito: *laugh* Well, you’re right.

Subaru: That’s true. All of us are deserved to be hit.

Raito: Wait, wait Subaru-kun. What are you saying to your Onii-chan?

Subaru: *smirk* Onii-chan?? I never think of you like my brothers at all!

Kanato: Hey, Subaru. What do you think of me?

Subaru: HUH??? You… You’re… well… what is it?

Ayato: Then… you want to him to think of you as his Onii-chan, Kanato?

Kanato: *chuckle* I’d love to… It’s kind of nice, right? To be called as Onii-chan.

*suddenly Reiji walk in*

Reiji: *sigh* what is this of worthless quarrel are you all up to at this kind of time?

Ayato: ‘At this kind of time’? Is there something happening?

Reiji: Kind of. Well, it might be only a prank. Please take a look at this. This thing was stuck in with a knife on the entrance door.

Raito: Hmm what is it? ‘I will kill all vampires’? What is this?

Ayato: Is that… something called a threat letter?

Reiji: Well, I think it’s a prank. But, this person knew that there are vampires live in this residence? Or is it just a coincidence?

Shuu: It can’t be just a coincidence. This residence have been called a haunted manor, but never been called as a vampire manor. You know that, right? So troublesome.

Subaru: Ha… who’s so obliviously do such a stupid thing?? *crashing into something*

Reiji: Wait Subaru, don’t break the chair. Well, the ones that cross my mind is just ‘them’.

Kanato: The ones who know that we’re vampires and know that we live in this residence… it’s ‘them’ right?

Ayato: Huh? Are there some people who know that? What is it, chichinashi? Huh? Mukami? Ah… you’re right. They know it. I almost forgot.

Raito: Mukami family? But do they need to stick the threat on the door?

Shuu: Aren’t they want to lit up an action from us? So dull…

Subaru: Whatever! I won’t easily let them off. Huh? No violence? Shut up! You’re in danger too! …!! They might snatch your blood away!!!

Raito: Ahaha… Subaru-kun you’ve just say something embarrassing.

Subaru: SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Reiji: Calm down! Hm.. well, if it’s their doing, then we don’t need to be worried. We can live as usual.

Raito: Right~ If we react through this, they might take advantage of it.

Reiji: Well, just be careful. We don’t want something happen like in the limousine before. You… what’s wrong? You seem awfully worried. Eh? This paper? What would you do? Well it’s fine. I’m not happy about it but, please get rid of it properly.

*Meanwhile at Mukami’s Residence*

Kou: Ru~ki~kun. Hey, can I have your time for a moment?

Ruki: What is it, Kou? I’m in the middle of reading.

Kou: I’m sorry to bother you, but I want you to look at this.

Ruki: Hm? What is it?

Azusa: ‘I will kill all vampires’ is written there. *suddenly appearing*

Kou: HUA… Azusa-kun! Since when you’re behind me?

Azusa: He? I was here all the time. Hey, Kou… what does it mean? It looks like a threat. You think so too right, Justy(?)?

Ruki: Right. Justy seems to agree, that is a wound in your arm!!

Kou: Ruki-kun is going along with his stupidity!

Ruki: Who the hell did this? They’re quite brave threatening to kill us.

Yuuma: That must be ‘them’, right?

Kou: Yuuma-kun, you think so too?

Yuuma: No doubt!! The ones who know that we’re vampires and be able to sniff out that we’re here is only them!

Ruki: It’s a declaration of war. *smirk* I think we should take a preventive measure.

Kou: *chuckle*Hey, hey Ruki-kun. Should we start a war with them?

Azusa: Does it hurt? Hey… then me too… *chuckle*

Yuuma: Well, if we do it, that woman might come too.

Ruki: We shouldn’t be haste. We have to think about their move carefully.

Kou: But, if we hesitant they might kill us.

Ruki: Well, there might a lot of simple minded person in Sakamaki household, but there are also some people who can use their head properly. You all don’t want to recklessly act, right?

Yuuma: If Ruki said so then it can’t be helped. I think that it’s a good chance to get rid of some annoying people though.

Ruki: You can preserve your energy for now. Sooner or later our chance to crash them will come anyway.

Azusa: Hah… I can’t wait for it… I want to be hit quickly…

Kou: Azusa-kun please stop saying something like that.

Ruki: Kou, it’s no use. Let Azusa do as he please. At any rate, don’t lay your hand on them without my permission. Got it?

Kou: Okaaay. Then, let’s dump this threat on rubbish bin.

Ruki: Kou, wait. Let me take that.

Kou: Huh? Well it’s fine though. What? You’re planning to investigate it?

Ruki: To cut it short I want to look for who send this to us. We can make sure who’s the culprit is.

Yuuma: As expected from Ruki. We count on you.

*The heroine run away and entered the room*

Raito: Hm? Bitch-chan, what’s wrong? To run in a hurry like that. Moreover you’re kind of trembling. Are you okay? Calm down. It’s unusual for you to be so frightened and tremble like this. Eh? You asked where Reiji is? Reiji is…

Reiji: *opening the door* What business you have with me? The tea is already set too. Ah…good grief, how disgraceful. You’re run out of breath. Calm down. Now, sit down here. Drink this tea. First, you should calm your breath. After that you can talk to me.

Subaru: *barging in* Hey you!! What happen???

Raito: Ufu… Subaru-kun. Because you feel that there’s something wrong with her, you flustered and come here quickly.

Subaru: Shut up!!! It’s not like that!!

Reiji: Fine, fine. Subaru you should calm down too. Seems like there’s something bad happen to her. I’ll call the others.

Raito: Bitch-chan, to calm you down, should I give you a chu-chu? Ufu~

Subaru: Heck! What the hell is chu-chu? You’re so gross!! *kicking into something*

Reiji: Subaru! I told you don’t kick the chair! Didn’t you think that if you break it someone has to order the new one? Don’t increase my work!

Shuu: I finally could sleep well. Damn… If there’s nothing important, I’ll kill you!

Kanato: Right. Really… Hey, Teddy. You finally could talk to me, but this insect disturb our time.

Reiji: Then, you over there, why were you running in scared inside the manor before? If you could explain it, you wouldn’t get punished. And please say it wisely and as simple as you can.

Shuu: Wait. Where is Ayato?

Reiji: About him… I’ve searched the whole residence but still cannot find him. But… Shuu! You didn’t do anything yet you dare to speak like that to me? So irritating.

Ayato: I’m right here. *suddenly came in*

Kanato: Ayato… Eh? What is it with that blood?

Ayato: This girl, want to show something to you all. Here…

Raito: These… Aren’t these our familiars? They’re dead?

Shuu: Shit… you bring something like these… They’re covered in blood…

Ayato: They’re lying dead in front of the car. Right, chichinashi?

Subaru: You saw them and run away in frightened? Geez… I thought you were angry about something! Don’t do mislead things!

Reiji: Now, now. For her the death of familiar and the death of people is the same. No wonder she’s so shock. But, who did this?

Ayato: Isn’t it them? The Mukami. They send a threat before, right?

Shuu: They killed our familiars? Why didn’t they targeting us?

Subaru: Maybe it’s a warning? They want to say that we will become like this too. Damn, so annoying!

Reiji: If this have been done by them, what is their goal? They want us to hand in this girl, or something like that?

Ayato: Chichinashi, isn’t that good? There are people who would want you so far. *chuckle*

Raito: Well, it’s not like we don’t want you to cheat on guy here and there. It’s not a problem of hand you in or not. Ufu. If they want to borrow you, *in lower tone* they should kneel on us.

Shuu: Well, there’s no other reason than that, right? Or should I say, to threat a vampire to kill them, is a little bit unusual.

Ayato: Huh? Why is that?

Shuu: It’s too troublesome to explain.

Kanato: *chuckle* If they want her, they will write ‘hand her in’ or something like that in the threat, right? But they write ‘I will kill you’ but for us vampires, death is not something to be feared off.

Reiji: So, there is a possibility that the writer doesn’t know what the meaning of death for us? So the one who wrote that up is …

Raito: Ufu… They might be… human?

Subaru: Is that… you?

Ayato: It’s possible. For chichinashi, there might be a mountain of reason to despise us.

Shuu: Hey you… is that true?

Raito: Ufu. You’re desperately denied it. That’s fine, bitch-chan, for me, I don’t hate girls who hate and cannot forget us.

Reiji: You… what’s  the meaning of this?

*Bell sound*

Subaru: There are some people coming! Oi, you come here for now!

*some people walk in*

Ruki: We came in arbitrarily.

Kou: Yahhoo~

Ayato: Huh… You all… Why are you coming here?

Yuuma: What a merry welcome! Hah?

Kanato: What do you want? Don’t come in as you please.

Ruki: Well, there’s something we want to ask you.

Azusa: Our familiars were killed.

Reiji: !! Your household too?

Kou: Then, it’s as Ruki’s prediction?

Ruki: Is there some threat sent to your house?

Raito: So, it also sent to Mukami-san house too?

Ruki: So it’s like that. Actually, first we’re suspecting you all. But from that paper, I couldn’t find your fingerprints or handwriting. They’re all not match to any of you.

Yuuma: Then, Ruki said that “the fingerprint on that paper doesn’t not match” with you all. The investigation is failed, and today this familiar incident happened.

Azusa: Ruki said that your familiar might also get killed elegantly like ours.

Subaru: For a while I feel like you make us look like a fool. Was it just my imagination?

Shuu: That might be true.

Ayato: Damn! It’s so irritating!

Reiji: I see.

Kanato: Hey, Reiji. Do you know something?

Raito: As expected, the offender is Bitch-chan?

Kou: EH?? M-Nekochan? You did this?

Ruki: That’s impossible. This woman doesn’t have enough power to stand against our familiars.

Yuuma: Then who did such a coward thing like this?!?! Damn! Sneakily behind us!

Azusa: Grudge… right. Grudge…! They held a grudge against us, vampire. Human…

Reiji: I’ve thought about that too. Actually, long time ago there’s a tragedy caused by a vampire and ended up pretty the same as our current condition.

Raito: What is it? What is it?

Ruki: It’s the curse of Odessa, isn’t it?

Reiji: As expected you knew about it. Then it’s easier to talk now.

Ruki: It’s about a legend happen in a faraway country, right? A certain village girl on that country fell in love with a young noble vampire.

Reiji: This girl held a true love, but this vampire man used her feelings just to lust insatiably for draining her blood, and he just throw her away in pain.

Ruki: This girl, who has become a vampire, cannot go back to her home, and she held grudge for so long to this young noble vampire. She planned to take revenge on him. To cut it short, she did things like this.

Kou: Heh~ so there’s such kind of story. Ruki-kun you’re so well-informed.

Kanato: Then, what kind of method she planned to take revenge? I like such a story.

Reiji: In this certain vampire residence, she invited them one by one then killed them. First she sent a threat with the same wording as the one sent to our manor. Lastly she will corner the nobleman, the nobleman will run away, and her revenge accomplished. This girl replaces the nobleman, and seemed to kill all the villagers.

Ayato: *smirk* Then, you mean to say that her cursed is exist even up until now?

Ruki: It’s more like there’s a possibility that someone copied the same method as this curse story.

Ayato: Who the hell did such a coward thing! If they want us to die, they just have to try killing us, right? Such a round way to do that!

Shuu: You right. They don’t have to placing a worthless curse to us. If they’re scared of us, then it has no meaning to do this.

Azusa: Hey, Raito-san, what’s wrong? It seems like you’re thinking something hard.

Raito: Hmmm…. I feel like knew that kind of story…

Yuuma: Hah?? What do you mean?

Raito: Hey Reiji, that girl name is Odessa-chan, isn’t it?

Reiji: That’s right. What’s up with that?

Raito: Ufu. You know, that young nobleman vampire… might be me.

Ayato: Huh?? What did you say??? *grabbing Raito’s collar*

Raito: Hey, Ayato-kun, my shirt will be stretched! Don’t grab it!! It’s not my fault!

Shuu: Raito, don’t tell me… it’s happening when you visit Richter’s house?

Raito: You remember it, Shuu? That time I stayed in his house for a while. And I didn’t really have anything to do. When I went out to town, there’s a cute girl, so I invite her to ‘play’ with me.

Ruki: Don’t tell me, that everyone in Lord Richter’s home…

Kanato: They are all dead, right? I was sure that it was because of vampire hunter.

Subaru: If so, then, this damn pervert capped guy has done something bad to that Odessa-girl?

Raito: Wai… Odessa is already dead, right? So I don’t relate it to this incident. Moreover, this case might be just copying Odessa’s curse… w, why am I being tied? Tying or being tied is just when I do some kinky play… hey… wait…

Yuuma: Shut up! I will make sure you won’t run away…

Kou: You’re right. If we give him to Odessa, we can live in peace for now.

Azusa: Hah… so envious… I want to be… tied too….

Reiji: Hah… I never thought that the original one who’s been cursed is here.

Raito: Wait… Bitch-chan, help me…! I am unrelated to this. Even if it’s really Odessa, her target is not only me..!

Ruki: Even if she hold grudge to every vampire in the world, for now, but the foremost vampire she wants to killed is the vampire who’s been throwing her himself, right? Yosh, we’ll tie him outside. You all, carry him up!

Yuuma: *carrying Raito*

Raito: Wait! Let me go! It’s just a huge misunderstanding!

Reiji: Raito, you deserved this. I never thought that my own little brother is being the real legend in vampire history.

Ayato: *laugh* Well, it’s so like Raito.

Kanato: If Richter knew, he would kill Raito in front of Odessa, right? *chuckle*

Kou: In the end, everyone is enjoying one of their brothers being tied like this. The bound between Sakamaki brothers is so fragile… Well, it’s not good to deceiving woman, right? You think so too, right, M-nekochan? Hey, M-Nekochan?

Yuuma: Hey! Don’t space out! Look at us properly.

Subaru: You, is there something wrong? Hah? There’s something you’ve thinking of? What is it? Say it.

Shuu: If we left him outside Odessa might kill him?  So troublesome.

Azusa: *chuckle* Shuu-san, are you scared of Odessa?

Shuu: Hah?? No way!

Raito: Ufu. Such a haste attitude. It seems true.

Shuu: Oi, it’s because you’re hook up with some weird woman, right? Reflect your attitude a bit!

Raito: So I said countless time, it’s not my fault! Geez…

Ayato: Oi chichinashi, what’s up? You’ll be left. Or you want to be killed by Odessa? No, right? Let’s go! Geez… you’re wasting our time. Huh? You feel like you have seen the handwriting on the threat letter? Don’t you just mistake it? Heh? It’s similar with your father’s?

Kanato: He… whose handwriting is that?

Ayato: Huh? Your father? You mistook it right? Really… You really easy to worried. Before worrying about that, you should worry about your own blood. So stupid!

——————————————————————————————————

Translation team member Kanransha

Made with SoundCloud
Where Children Sleep

“As a child, that’s your little space within the house," said James Mollison, a Kenyan-born, England-raised, Venice-based photographer whose 2011 photo book, Where Children Sleep draws attention to a child’s "material and cultural circumstances” and offers a remarkable view on class, poverty, and the diversity of children around the world.

“I hope the book gives a a glimpse into the lives some children are living in very diverse situations around the world; a chance to reflect on the inequality that exists, and realize just how lucky most of us in the developed world are," said Mollison.

Nine-year-old Dong shares a room with his parents, sister and grandfather in the province of Yunnan in southwest China. His family owns just enough land to grown their own rice and sugar cane.

Eight-year-old Alyssa lives in a small house in Kentucky, heated only by a wooden stove. Alyssa’s father works at Walmart and mother works at McDonald’s.

Unable to go to school, Alex spends his days begging on the streets of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and sleeping on whatever he can find at night — an empty bench, an old sofa, or the pavement.

Living with her parents in a small apartment in Tokyo, 4-year-old Kaya’s bedroom looks like every little girl’s dream room. All of Kaya’s dresses are made by her mother — who makes up to three a month — and she has 30 dresses, coats, pairs of shoes, sandals and boots, and multiple wigs.

Prena, a 14-year-old domestic worker in Kathmandu, Nepal works 13-hour days as a domestic worker, earns $6.50 a month, and sleeps in a tiny, cell-like space at the top of her employer’s house. She goes to school three times a week and dreams of one day becoming a doctor.

Living with 13 other women in a tea house in Kyoto, Japan, 15-year-old Risa is a ”maiko“ — an apprentice geisha. She sleeps with five other women in a room that doubles as a dining room and a tea room.

Living in a top-floor apartment on Fifth Avenue in New York, 9-year-old Jaime likes to play the cello, kickball, and study his finances on the Citibank website. His parents also own luxury homes in the Hamptons and Spain. 

An orphan and refugee from war in Liberia, this 9-year-old anonymous boy goes to school in Ivory Coast for ex-child soldiers and lives in a concrete shack with some of his classmates.

Often accompanying his father on hunts, 11-year-old Joey owns two shotguns and a cross bow and made his first kill, a deer, at age seven. He lives with his parents and older sister in Kentucky and "is hoping to use his crossbow during the next hunting season as he has become tired of using a gun.”

Living with her parents, brother and sister near Kathmandu in Nepal, 7-year-old Indira works at a local granite quarry where she has worked at since she was 3. She also attends school and shares a mattress with her siblings. Their house has one room, one bed and one mattress.

Four-year-old Jasmine (“Jazzy”) lives in a big house in Kentucky with her parents and three brothers. Her room is filled with crowns and sashes that she won in beauty pageants. Having entered more than 100 competitions so far, Jazzy enjoys being treated like a princess and would like to be a rock star when she grows up.

Ryuta is a champion sumo wrestler and has been competing for seven years. He lives in Tokyo with his parents and younger sister and is also a member of the boy scout movement.

This 4-year-old Romanian boy sleeps with his family on a mattress in a field on the outskirts of Rome. After begging for money to pay for tickets, his family came from Romania by bus. With no identity papers, his parents clean windscreens at traffic lights since they cannot obtain legal work. None of his family members have ever been to school.

Living in a favela in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 14-year-old Erlen is pregnant for the third time. She usually sleeps on the floor but her mother has swapped places and allowed her to sleep on the bed during the later stages of her pregnancy. Erlen was 12 and 13 years old during her previous pregnancies, but lost both babies shortly after their births. If her new baby survives, she will be a single parent and will have to drop out of school.

Six-year-old Bilal’s family are Bedouin Arabs living in a one-room shack they built themselves besides an Israeli settlement at Wadi Abu Hindi in the West Bank. Bilal does not go to school yet but helps take care of his family’s 15 goats. 

Nantio is a member of the Rendille tribe and lives with her two brothers and two sisters in a tent-like dome made from cattle hide and plastic, with little room to stand, in Lisamis, Kenya. She went to the village school for a few years but decided not to continue and is hoping a “moran” (warrior) will select her for marriage.

Eight-year-old Roathy’s home sits on a rubbish dump swarming with flies on the outskirts of Phnom Penh, Cambodia, where he sleeps on a mattress made from old tires. At 6 a.m. every morning, Roathy and  hundreds of other children are given a shower and breakfast at a local charity center before he starts work — scavenging for plastic bottles and cans, which are then sold to a local recycling company. Breakfast is sometimes the only meal of the day.

Rhiannon lives with her parents and brother in a terraced house in Darel, Scotland, in an area plagued with heroin addiction and gang violence. She and her family have become used to abusive behavior from people in the neighborhood. Sporting a mohawk like her parents’ ever since she was six, Rhiannon and her family and friends are part of a punk subculture and have formed a community of support where they all look out for each other.

You’re My Everything [Changkyun Angst / Fluff] Part 2

Genre: Angst / Gang!au

Summary: You were but one of the millions of stars in his sky ; he was your entire universe.

Part 1


“This is why I wasn’t planning on coming,” Hyungwon gritted his teeth, hands clenching tightly into fists until his knuckles turned white.

“But your sister would rather die than leave Changkyun in their hands,” Kihyun sighed as he leaned against the wall, admiring your bravery and love but at the same time, hoping that you hadn’t been so reckless. Hoseok had his face buried in his hands, blaming himself for failing to pull you away fast enough.

Noticing this, Hyunwoo placed his hand on his shoulder. “She’s a smart kid, and a strong girl. Our maknae is quite the fighter as well. I’m sure they can-”

“I should have seen him coming-”

The boys heard approaching footsteps and they hid behind the rubbish dump yet again, breaths held in and hands trembling when they saw the shadows of some people cast upon the wall.

“I swear I heard Hoseok’s whiny voice,” a familiar voice could be heard and all seven crouching bodies stood up at the same time, heads popping out from the dump. There stood four boys and a girl, all with smirks on their face and guns in their hands.

“How did you guys get here?” Minhyuk asked and Jennie frowned.

“_______ called me here and I brought them along. But where is she?” The other four boys nodded and looked around them, wondering where you were.

Hyungwon lowered his head and said in a small whisper, “They got her as well. We were too careless.”

Hands on her hips, Jennie nodded. “So we’re saving two butts today? Okay, I’ll be able to redeem two favours.” Everybody smiled slightly at her joking comment which lightened up the mood. “So what are we waiting for?”

“We don’t know how many men are in there…” Kihyun explained but trailed off. “But we have nine people now. I think that changes things.”

“It does, doesn’t it? I think we can take them on,” Hoseok loaded his gun and so did the others, placing their fingers on the trigger, ready to fire.

“Ready?” Jennie cocked her head to the side and the boys nodded in unison.


Honestly, you didn’t know whether to wish that they would come to save you. You had seen the number of men guarding the place and you would rather die than have all your friends lose their lives while trying to save you but at the same time, you didn’t want your life to end so quickly.

After your sudden confession, Changkyun held your hands despite it being awkward as both of you were tied up, preventing the perfect interlace of fingers.

“How can I be your entire universe? I’m nothing,” He smiled bitterly and you frowned.

“That’s funny, how you seem to be everything to me.” The room became silent after you spoke and the both of you sat there, holding each other’s cold hands tightly and keeping silent, almost as if waiting for some men to come in and kill you off.

You wondered what the other five boys were doing, whether they ran away or if they were still hiding behind the rubbish dump. Then, Jennie popped into your head and you knew that there was nothing she could do if the rest had already left. All you could hope for was that they had all gathered together and that they had a plan. Or, you could just wish for the least painful death.

“What was that?” Changkyun jerked up suddenly and your head shot up, looking at the door which was still shut.

“Did you see something?”

“No. I heard something.” He said, tone dead serious and you didn’t understand how you could have missed a sound that seemed to change his entire attitude. Just as you were about to ask him what it was, you heard faint gunshots and you looked at him.

“What was that?” It was your turn to ask it now and he shook his head.

“I don’t know. Did you come here with anyone?” Upon hearing that, your eyes widened and you felt a surge of hope, as if that familiar sound of gunshots brought the chance of survival, of escape.

They didn’t leave.


“Cover me!” Kihyun yelled as he ran upfront, firing skillfully at the men guarding the front door, hoping to kill them off in one shot before more could swarm out from the house. Each time a man lifted up his gun, ready to fire, he would get shot right in the chest by Kihyun or on the arm by Hoseok. They were the sharpest shooters, always knowing where to aim at and when to fire, giving the enemies no time to make a move.

But as much as they were talented, they couldn’t possibly win a fight alone.

“Hoseok to your left!” Hyunwoo shouted and Hoseok’s arm swung automatically to that direction, finger pressing the trigger and ending the guy just when he thought he had snuck up successfully.

“We still got that chemistry,” Hoseok commented and the other boy shrugged.

“Of course.”

As expected, more came barging out of the front door but that didn’t seem to taunt anyone.

“It has been Kihyun and Hoseok doing most of the work,” Minhyuk told the rest as he reloaded his gun.

“We haven’t even started.”


Time passed and the gunshots became louder and louder, letting you and Changkyun guess that your friends were getting closer and closer. You felt helpless, knowing that the boys were giving their all out there while you were stuck in a room, hands and legs tied together tightly. 

“I want to get out of here and fight,” You said with gritted teeth and Changkyun nodded, gaze fixed on the door, waiting for that moment where his friends would barge in, hopefully not injured.

“HYUNGWON!” A loud cry rang and you were struck with fear, your face became pale and your mind became a blank. Did something happen?

“The both of us will stay with him, you guys go get them,” Minhyuk’s faint voice could be heard and you knew they were close. Open the door, open the door, you chanted in your head, wanting to run out and check on your brother and show no mercy to whoever struck him.

Realising that they didn’t know which room you both were in, Changkyun yelled at the top of his lungs and so did you, hoping that they would get you both out as fast as possible.

“They’re in that room!” You heard Jennie’s voice and you were surprised that she was there as well. So they did find each other. That’s good.

The door flung open with Hyunwoo, Kihyun and Jennie rushing in with sharp knives in their hands, ready to cut the ropes.

“Two of you cover the door. When I’m free I’ll help with Changkyun’s ropes,” You told them and they nodded, Jennie and Kihyun going to the door to handle whoever was possibly coming. Hyunwoo freed you and Jennie passed you a knife, allowing you to handle the rope around Changkyun’s ankles as Hyunwoo did the rope around his wrists.

The two at the door shot down some men and cleared the way for all of you to dash out to where Hyungwon was on the ground, leg bleeding profusely. You couldn’t help but feel like it was all your fault for facing your back to the entrance of the alleyway and allowing yourself to be taken yet again.

“Hyunwoo, you’re the strongest. Carry Hyungwon and we’ll do the shooting.” Kihyun said and Hyunwoo nodded, lifting Hyungwon easily onto his shoulders in one swing.

“Let’s go.”

None of Jooheon’s men was in the way at first, the alleyway being wide open for your escape. But, it simply wasn’t possible for one man not to send a distress call in the middle of the fight which called for help.

More of them started charging towards you at the entrance and everyone but Hyunwoo held up their guns, firing mercilessly at them. That neighbourhood was a deserted one, quiet and empty and so your yells and gunshots rang throughout the entire place. You swore that the police could hear the sounds from the station even though it was quite a distance away but they probably didn’t care. After all, this area had the highest crime rates because of the corrupt and perhaps just unbothered police force.  

“I think it’s the last of them!” Minhyuk signaled for everyone to start running again but from the corner of your eye, you saw a man on the floor still twitching, trembling hands reaching out for the gun next to him, wanting to at least shoot one of you before he died. Your hand shot out and you aimed at him before pressing the trigger but nothing happened. Damn it. I’m out of bullets? By that time, he already had the gun in his hand and pointed it towards Hoseok.

“Shoot him!” You yelled, pointing at the man as you threw yourself in front of Hoseok just as a shot was fired. Was it from his gun, or one of yours? You saw blood forming a puddle around the man’s head and you almost heaved a sigh of relief until you saw Changkyun falling on his knees in front of you. Body growing stiff, you tried to understand what exactly had happened and when Minhyuk rushed to the maknae’s side, taking of his shirt to press it against his stomach, you understood.

You were going to shield Hoseok. But Changkyun took the bullet for you.


There was no way Hyungwon and Changkyun could go to the hospital without the doctor asking how the bullet got there in the first place. Jennie could treat shots like the one on Hyungwon’s leg but Changkyun’s wound on his stomach was something much more serious.

“We need to get him to a proper hospital or clinic,” Jennie insisted but Changkyun shook his head, faking that he was alright.

“I…don’t-”

“Sh, don’t talk. Just press this against the wound to stop the bleeding,” Minhyuk ordered and you stood there, thinking of possible options and eventually coming to a conclusion.

“I’ll ask my uncle.” The room grew silent and all eyes were on you.

“Uncle? How are we going to explain it to him?” Hyungwon asked and you looked at the Changkyun, grateful and yet, pained that he was hurt because of you.  

“Well, Changkyun took a bullet for me and saved my life.”

“So please, save his.” You pleaded and your uncle looked at Changkyun, eyes fixed on the soaked, red patch on his stomach followed by the bandage around Hyungwon’s leg.  

“What were you and Hyungwon doing? Fighting again?” He eyed you, a stern look on his face.

“I was fighting for my own life and for my friends. We didn’t start the fight, Jooheon did.”

“So this young man got injured while trying to save you?”

“Yes, so please help him.”

Your uncle saw the desperate look in you eyes and gave in, telling Hyunwoo to bring Changkyun to the guest room.

“I’ll get the instruments. ________, just this once.” He looked at you and you nodded, a wide grin spreading across your face but disappearing almost immediately when you heard painful groans as Hyunwoo lay Changkyun on the bed.

Rushing to his side, you held his hand and told him reassuringly, “My uncle will get the bullet out and treat your stomach. You’ll be fine soon.” He looked at you and smiled weakly, nodding slightly and trusting that everything would be alright.

Sighing softly, you placed a hand on his cheek. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“You…risked your life to save me…” Changkyun paused, wincing as he bit his lip, bearing with the pain radiating throughout his whole body. “You told me that…I was your entire universe.”

A tear rolled down your cheek and you nodded. “You are.”

“This…doesn’t just work one way. I will protect you too.”

Your uncle walked into the room and smiled at the sight of the both of you being there for each other, giving each other strength, hope and most important of all - love.

“My dear niece, I need to handle your boyfriend now. He’ll be fine in no time,” the older man chuckled and you nodded, giving Changkyun a quick kiss before leaving the room.

Taking in the fact that you had escaped death twice, you sat next to the boys who were proud of rescuing their friends successfully. You didn’t know whether you were really safe and whether a similar incident would happen all over again but you didn’t worry as much as you previously did, simply because you knew that you had friends who would risk their lives for you and someone who loved you as much as you loved him.

Once, you were something to him but now, you were everything. And that was all you needed to know for you not to fear anything because no matter what happened, you would never be alone.

Love Letters To A Stranger

Title: Love Letters To A Stranger (One Shot)

Genre: Romance/Fluff

Rating: K

Notes: This is just a little something I threw together tonight.  Let me know what you think!

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Every time the doors opened to allow another stream of riders onto the car, he hoped that she would be there.  Most days she was, in her long bubble gum pink coat with the shiny black shoulder bag on her right side.  She always got in the last car and turned to the left and took a seat whilst pulling a book from her bag.  That’s what had caught his eye the first day.  She always had a book, not an e-reader like so many commuters.  Sometimes she would sit and place the book on her lap.  Her little hands would clasp it for a minute, as if she was making herself wait and enjoying the anticipation. 

How he loved to watch her read!  Unlike the other stoic and expressionless readers on the train, her face always mirrored whatever she feeling.  Smiles, little gasps, stifled giggles.  The first time she brushed away a tear, he almost flew to her side like a careening pigeon.  She had closed her eyes for a few seconds and shut the book quickly.  It was a hardcover and the sharp snap of the pages being pressed so swiftly together could be heard through the train car.  He waited to see what she would do next.  She was still.  Some time passed.  She brushed away another tear.  When she opened the book again, he guessed that she must have re-read the offending passage; a few more tears slipped down her cheeks and she was shaking her head ever so slightly.

He starting writing them on the evening he saw her for the second time.  After all, what better way to prepare for a role as a writer than to write?  He scratched out the words in pencil on yellow lined paper, tearing off the sheets and putting them in envelopes with the date on them.  Remembering how obsessively he had drafted and edited papers at university, he forced himself to just write and not erase anything, letting the little squiggles of communication flow out of his pencil like an open tap. 

“My beautiful bluestocking” began each letter.  Sometimes they were poems, sometimes descriptions of his day and what he had observed about her on that particular evening.  Sometimes he wrote pages and pages about what how they would spend their time together, if it actually occurred.  Sometimes he included bits from Shakespeare or silly literary puns that he thought might make her laugh.  By the end of the first week, the contents changed.  He began to include things about himself.  Personal issues, fears, goals, and desires all found their way onto the page.  He hadn’t begun the experiment with the intent of self-discovery, but it was a delightful development.

As the days went by, he found himself thinking about her more and more.  What was her favorite food?  Where did she work?  She rarely spoke to anyone on the train, preferring instead to keep her nose in a book.  When he heard her voice for the first time, the non-descript American accent didn’t surprise him.  Although he couldn’t quite figure out how, he knew she was from across the pond. 

When the two week mark rolled around and he realized that tomorrow would be the last day of his commitment and he would be off on his next one, a cloud of melancholy settled on him as he wrote the final letter.  Surprised to find himself feeling as if he was saying goodbye to a friend even though he didn’t know her name, he made an impulsive decision to attempt to give them to her.  He reasoned with himself that she would be flattered.  What woman wouldn’t be flattered to receive love letters from a stranger?  She wouldn’t think it was strange, surely.  No, no, he told himself.  She would be pleased.  A woman who enjoyed reading as much as she did would appreciate what he had done.  Yes, she would be pleased.  If she wasn’t, he would never see again. 

That caused little pangs of something he couldn’t identify to shoot through his heart, but he simply shook it off.  Folding the pages carefully and placing them into the envelope, he wrote the date on the front and then took the stack and deposited them into a paper bag.

When the doors opened the next day and she wasn’t there, he expected to feel marginally relieved.  He would be spared the potential awkwardness of presenting her with such an unusual tribute.  But it wasn’t relief he felt.  It was disappointment.  And something else.  Longing?

He was trying to make sense of that when the doors opened at the next stop and a familiar pink blur entered the train with several other riders.

Now it was elation that sparked across his skin.  She was just at a different stop for some reason.

He tried to make his long legs move in her direction, but they were stubbornly refusing.  Suddenly the idea of rejection entered his mind.  What if she looked at him like he was crazy?  What if she got up and moved to another seat?  What if she accepted the bag warily and then dumped them into the rubbish right as she exited the train?

All of these thoughts and more were swirling around in his mind and he realized that his stop was next.  He willed his limbs to move and slowly made his way to her. 

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to disturb you.  My name’s Tom.  I’m an actor.”

He immediately feels ridiculous, like a gangly youth talking to his first girl.

She smiles at him, the rows of bright white teeth flashing between plump red lips.

“My name isn’t Tom and I’m not an actor.”

He laughs.

She laughs.

“These are for you.”

He offers her the bag.

She takes it.

“Goodbye,” he says, the train coming to a stop and the doors opening.

“Wait,” she calls out to him before he steps onto the platform. “What’s in the bag?”

He smiles.

“Love letters to a stranger.”