just like mind your own business if this does apply to you

In Motion (M) | 01

Character: Jeon Jungkook x oc/reader (with POV switches)

Genre / words: Smut / 6,721 words

Summary: The rule is simple - you can look but you can’t touch. You’ve been attending the event for a few times but it was only when a certain boy arrives at one occasion did you feel the fire of lust burning inside

Warning: exhibitionism, public display of masturbations, graphic smut scenes, mutual masturbations, mentions/use of sex toys

Warning 2.0: this is only the beginning

(Cr.)


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How to become a good student (again) 3: Yearn for friendship - not worship; not debasement

Hello, fellow ex-good student!

‘tis done! This beast just got longer and longer, so I decided to cut it down a bit for the sake of readability. But let me know if there’s something that was too vague - the nuance might have got lost in the editing process.

Alright, let’s get down to business (to defeat! The Huns!)! So, if you’re an ex-good student, I’m pretty sure that you know this static in your head, right? Whenever you really need to do something but you just can’t get up and do it, so you keep procrastinating even though you hate it and keep scrolling and scrolling or gaming and gaming and feel more and more guilty?

Well, it might not be the most immediate analogy, but for this post I want you to consider that what connects you and your subject of study is essentially a relationship and that this static is (among other things) an indicator of how screwed up your relationship is. Just like with real people, your relationships with subjects can either

  • prosper and bear fruit (me & Creative Writing)
  • become cold and distant (me & French)
  • or, worst of all, turn sour and actively harmful. (me & PE, back in school)

Now, nobody likes to hear that they’re relationship-ing wrong. And it is true that different approaches work for different people. But here are the counter-productive relationships that I’ve personally ended up in and I’m gonna show you how I got into and out of them, so you can try to do the same. Maybe it’ll help you lift that static from your head.

Side-Note: Always remember that, since your subjects are just that (subjects), and not real people, you are the only one who can actually mend these relationships and, conversely, you are the one who screwed them up in the first place (probably with good intentions, though).

So, we’ll take them in this order:

1) Overeager Debasement

2) Undereager Debasement

3) Worship


(Oh, and in case you wanna catch up:

Masterpost 

Part 1

Part 2)


1) Overeager Debasement

What is it?

The desire to do everything, perfectly, at the same time, right now. Not to limit yourself to just one field of study, but to master them all, to reign supreme above knowledge, to keep your mind wide open to new possibilities, similarities and contradictions.
You overvalue your own capacities and undervalue the needs and difficulties of your subject.
(also refer to the first post for this)

How did you get here?

(read picture from right to left)

So. Many. Possible. Reasons.

  • it’s a cage. The idea of doing just one thing for the rest of your life scares you and you feel imprisoned at the thought of it
  • you know that you could be outstanding if you applied yourself
  • you know that you could be even more outstanding if you became accomplished in multiple fields
  • you want to find connections between fields nobody’s ever considered before
  • you feel like you’ve wasted your last few years and need to catch up to others
  • you’re afraid that you’re not good enough
  • you’re afraid of being ignorant
  • you’re arrogant

No matter the reason (I’ve gone through them all), people caught in this state of mind shovel more and more onto their plate.
And then wonder why they can’t swallow it all.

What do you think you’re doing?

A labour of love, most likely. You think you love languages and sciences and athletics and programming and cooking and hanging out with friends and being alone and so you just want to do it all!
You don’t want to limit yourself! You don’t want to lose any time! But there’s just so much and you have so little energy and ugh, if only I wasn’t destined for greatness, then I could relax like other little people, but no, I need to keep pushing! In every! Direction! At the same! Time!

I know your delusion. I’ve been there. You imagine yourself to be that one perfect friend who gets up at 6am, watches the sun rise, does yoga, eats a healthy breakfast, goes for a quick run, comes back home, answers all correspondence, is artistic for a few hours, then scientific for a few hours, then social for a few hours and ends the day with tiny masterpieces in each area, goes out with friends or family to grab a healthy dinner and goes to sleep, happy and balanced :)

Well, you know what, my starry-eyed friend?

What are you actually doing?

You’re the mental equivalent of a social butterfly.
You’re being fucking disrespectful.

You’re always on the run and never able to really commit to anything, because you’ve already scheduled something else afterwards. You’re shallow, deluded, that one friend that always comes in running, screaming “Besties  ~ ♥” and everyone shifts uncomfortably in their seats and smiles a painful smile and humours you, because they know you mean well, but they also know that you know nothing about them. 
You’ve never been there for them ever, but always expect them to be there for you. Whenever they want to talk about themselves, you nod and then proceed to about yourself and your plans and “ohmygosh, this is so nice, we need to meet more often ~ ♥ “. But at least you mean well, so they’ve agreed to keep it simple and on the “The weather is nice today”-level with you. 

But here you are, wondering why you’re not making any progress.
Mysterious.

So what do I do?

Well, you need to go from this:

To this:

How? More on that below.


2) Undereager Debasement

What is it?

This stage is what happens when you notice that your lofty ideals from Overeager Debasement cannot be fulfilled. You turn bitter, hateful, cold. You think you’re a failure, you think you were too soft. Instead of wanting to be friends with everyone, you now want to rule over everyone, fuck what they want.

You’re burnt out. You’re done. You just want to get through these stupid classes and catch a goddamn break, goddamnit.

And you WILL get through. You’re too proud to do anything else. But you don’t really care about any of it.
You just want to make it.

How did you get here?

If you were a good student, you probably heard at some point or another that you were “different” and that your complex and mysterious ways were not understandable and definitely not achievable for your average classmate.

Most people who tell you this mean well. A few want to make fun of you, but most actually do mean it as a compliment. But they don’t know how dangerous it is to hear it again and again, because regardless of whether it’s true or not, you start to believe it.
You start to believe that somehow, you have a higher calling, a higher standard. And you start to long for that day when your high standards will be met - when you will go to that one mysterious class where everyone is just as eager as you are, where the “Oh, captain, my captain!”-teacher will spark a fire in your brain that will never go out and when your ominous “gifts” can finally be put to good use for the prosperous future of mankind.


And you work.

And work.

And the class never comes.

You feel the weight on your shoulders when teachers talk of “high expectations”, you feel it crush you a little bit every time your friends tease you about your genuine fear that you might not get an A, that you might lose it all, that your “gifts” could disappear and you’ll be stranded and useless and you put in the hours, you work your ass off to keep that high standard, all in the hope of having that one miraculous class that never comes.

I realized that that class would never come when I entered university.

University, I’d told myself, would be my Arcadia, my Eden, my academic paradise where all my hard work would be rewarded!
Instead, I only found more drudgery, more incompetent professors, more disinterested students and even more bureacracy. To say that I was “disappointed” would be putting it very lightly.

I became disoriented and disenchanted. I realized that I could get through most classes with half-assed effort, I was hardly ever challenged, I floated along and hated every second of it. I blamed my boring teachers, the imperfect system, the teachers who had given me hope only for me to watch it crash and go up in flames.

What do you think you’re doing?

Being badass, cool and detached, most likely.

You dream of yourself as a master and your subjects as slaves. They bow to your will, they dance to your tune, you command them with the snap of a finger.

“Look, you slave of the system”, you say, lying on a velvet sofa, “Look, at how it hardly takes any effort for me to pass these classes! Look at how I spend my time doing things I actually like and that are actually worth it, unlike these stupidly easy classes taught by stupidly incompetent professors in a stupidly screwed-up system! Look at me, being edgy and drowning in self-hatred because I can physically feel myself gliding off the rails that made me so “special” and becoming one of the average people in the masses, haha. Ha. Ha. Screw academia, but still give me good grades, amirite?”

I know your delusion. I’ve been there. You imagine yourself to be that one perfect friend that never studies for classes, comes for three lectures per semester and still manages to get perfect grades because everything you do in school is, like, so five years ago. That one friend who has read all the classics in their spare time, has conquered and enslaved all the knowledge actually worth knowing, will quote obscure Polish philosophers you’ve never heard of and plays the piano with a perfect pitch. They’re the wisest, most culture-non-conforming people you know - they’ve been up until 5am, wandering the streets and drinking vodka from a bottle while forcefully pentrating the mysteries of the universe all by themselves until they finally fall asleep on a park bench and awake with an epiphany about Klein bottles.
They’re “special”.

What are you actually doing?

Caring more about appearing “special” than actually trying to be “special”, that’s what you’re doing.

But, look, what made you so “special” and “different” in the first place was not a “calling” or “gifts” or the fact that you wrote good grades and were destined for greatness.

Here’s a handy chart I’ll use later - you were lucky enough to fall into the green zone, lucky enough to be born with an innate respect and a love for learning. That’s what made you “special”. That’s what made you succeed. Not pressure, not warped ideals and certainly not the fear of failure.


But somewhere along the way you forgot that and only focussed on the results. You started to believe yourself to be so special that everybody else should cater to you.
The fancy titles, the awe-struck looks, the “You’re so amazing”s and the “The genius of a decade”, the planned Nobel prize speech and the prestige, the dream others had lovingly created for you and you had slowly absorbed and warped as your own? It got to you. Hell, it got to me.
And it became more important than learning itself.
Somewhere along the way, you and I, we became an arrogant and lazy assholes.

You looked down on your easy courses and homework and instead of recognising how lucky you are, doing it in a minute and a half and then putting in the extra work on top to dig deeper and to maybe contribute something of value and fun, you threw it aside with a snide remark as beneath you.
Of course it wasn’t fun. Of course it wasn’t challenging. You never even tried to make it either.

(And don’t get me wrong: I honestly do think that the education system as it is right now needs MAJOR reforms. But right now? It is what it is. And instead of making the best of it and doing what you once loved so much, you succumbed to societal pressures you found yourself unable to fulfill and said “meh”.
You cared so much about the fame and the title that the relationship itself didn’t matter.)

But this isn’t the master-slave relationship you imagine it to be.
It’s a trophy-friendship. Once upon a time, you got on really well with this person and other people loved your friendship. You fell in love with the ideal, with their connections, their money, their prestige, their name on a CV, and you stuck around just for that.
You valiantly ignore the reality of the state of things between you two
and take them out only when absolutely needed, only when things are this close to falling apart and so you keep walking a fine, fine line.
Whenever a deadline approaches, you shower them with attention and love and, gingerly, they open up to you and you see a depth and complexity to them that astounds you and makes you think “Imagine! Imagine how much more I could have seen if only I’d started earlier?”
But the moment the crisis has passed, you toss them aside once again.

Because this is enough to make your name.
You may not remember much about these nights or about the person at all, but the only thing that counts is that it will fulfill your “special” prophecy and make you a legend, right?

Well, always remember this:
(read picture from right to left)

You’re not “special” if you made it to university. You’re not “special” if you’ve made your name. 
It comes down to a simple choice: do you value appearances over integrity or the other way round? Do you dare to look like a fumbling idiot again when you start something new? Is the “appearing like an idiot”-part more important to you than the “learning/creating something new”-part? 
Have a think about it.

3) Worship

“Alright”, you’ll say, “Alright. I get it. So I’ll treat my “friends”/subjects with respect and integrity and I’ll take all the time and concentration I can bestow upon them, just as I would upon real friends. But do you want me to be like, uh - like…

What is it?

“…like one of those anime characters that lives only for their dream and gets up at like 6am, does the thing, talks about the thing, breathes the thing, goes to bed, dreams of the thing and then wakes up at 6am to do the thing?”

(Google: Did you mean Hinata Shouyou?

Yes, yes, I did, google.)

Well, no, I don’t want you to do that. See, that’s the other extreme and unless you’re an anime character, chances are that it won’t work out for you. 

How did you get here?

Personally, I was caught in this trap for a loooooong time. Anime offered me a new way of relating to my passions that neither my family nor my school had ever shown me: unabashed obsession.
I wanted to be perfect. I wanted to be obsessed. I wanted to give myself up to a higher ideal, something above human consciousness, something that would endure. I wanted to, well, get up at 6am, do the thing, talk about the thing, breathe the thing and so on - “the thing” in question being, of course, studying. I made elaborate plans, complicated lists, study-plans that shift on a daily basis and cover all grounds, I wanted to study for two hours before school, wanted to repeat lessons, wanted to give myself up to knowledge, made cool covers for my notebooks, made mock exams for my friends to use, planned to focus on each continent for a month and study it, planned to listen to one new composer each day, planned to go to the museum every week, planned to analyze Sherlock Holmes and think just like him, planned to - you get the idea.

I wanted to be like this:

What do you think you’re doing?

Being but a humble servant to the eternal workings of truth. Knowing thou art unworthy, yet suffering the perfection of study.

I wanted to go from 0 to 100, I wanted knowledge and wisdom to transform and deliver me, I wanted to feel enlightened, I wanted to feel my brain burning, pushing frontiers and breaking through to new horizons, I wanted to elevate myself to touch even the lowest levels of truth.
I wanted to do something noble, something worthwhile, something that could never be critisized and would always be valued, something with eternal meaning that would echo through the ages and I wanted to be even the tiniest cog in the machinery of mind.

What are you actually doing?

Being, quite simply, an idiot.

This is one of my favourite quotes (David Wong):

“There are two ways to dehumanize someone: by dismissing them, and by idolizing them.” 

The same goes for studying. As shown above, studying won’t work out if you do not treat your subjects with respect. Conversely, studying also won’t work if you continue to idolize it as work beyond all work and reproach, as the only true calling, as the realm of the genii and by self-flagellating yourself and repeating “I’m but a humble servant in your kingdom of reason and will never reach where you are, but will spend all my time trying to reach you.” 

Why? Because by saying “I’ll never reach you or be worthy of you”, you’ve already sealed your fate. Some students (no matter how well they actually perform) are stuck thinking that they are stupid and incapable of doing well. Others think that the trick is in the preparation and they undergo complicated rituals of finding exactly the right study spot, exactly the right study drink, exactly the right study time, etc. in the hope of channeling the connection between their godly subject and themselves, but it never turns out quite as glamorous as they’d hoped (once again, speaking from experience).

This is because you cannot force a true friendship if you think yourself unworthy of it. It will always be worship. 

And why are you worshipping?
Because it takes the pressure right off of you
. This always annoyed me about some of my fellow students. They treated becoming a good student as this miraculous and unlikely event that only happens to the #blessed.
I insisted that “no”, it could be done. “Yes”, it was hard work, but ultimately absolutely doable. But now that I’ve been in their shoes? I understand.
Admitting that you could have done it anytime implies failure on your part for not having done it. By saying “Oh no, it is so very complex and divine and a lowly worm like me could never hope to crawl in its shadows”, you shift the focus away from yourself and onto the thing itself. 

But this is a synthetic, manufactured relationship with a partner that does not even exist. It is, at its heart, a kyaa  ~ I hope senpai notices me! (๑♡⌓♡๑) - kind of relationship. It’s idolizing not a person’s true character, but their appearance, their aesthetic and the values that they represent for you. It’s not really listening to what they’re saying, but warping their words so they fit into your perfect idea of them.
Just, unlike with undereage debasement, you do not play pretend that everything’s fine and secretly hate the other person deep down - you honestly idolize them to heaven and back, so you could never possible reach them.
You’re using them to fill in the holes in your own personality.

And that … just isn’t fun? I dunno about you, but treating studying as something that must be done perfectly with exactly the right pen and the perfect face-mask after the right smoothie and in the right lighting by a window overgrown with ivy and with perfect concentration from the first moment and unwavering, knightly passion and exact planning from 6am to bedtime all because I know deep down that I will not be able to fulfill these ideals and thus don’t have to feel bad about not reaching them just … isn’t for me. I don’t like my relationships to be all overstructured and “perfect” and high maintenance like that.

I want my friendships and my studying to be authentic. And that means that sometimes it’s messy and sometimes it’s hard and sometimes it’s quoting Keats while lying on the floor at 2am in the morning and chugging milk out of a carton, but it’s real.
I truly do understand this longing to make studying look pretty and like a magical realm, because when you’re in the flow that’s really what it feels like. But the beauty comes along with the practice, not the other way round.

No, but honestly - what do I DO then?


Y’remember Hippogriffs from Harry Potter? That’s how I imagine my subjects. Approach them carefully, honestly, maintaining eye contact and as equals and they will respect you. This scene:

This scene is what I’m talking about. 
If you were in a worship-state, you would only admire them from afar, gushing over how beautiful they are, but sad that they would never deign to even look in your general direction. (think of all the subjects you thought would be way too difficult for you)
If you were in a debasement-state, you’d either try to make friends with all the hippogriffs, hopping from one to the other and forming no bond with either or you’d “tsk” disdainfully and try to force them to obey you against their will. (*cough* Malfoy *cough*)

If, however, you’re in the green, there will be mutual respect between you and you will be able to fly.

So what does it mean to be in the green? 
It means not to do any of the above, obviously, so 

  • take your time for and invest brainpower into each and every one of your subjects - be a good friend. Be there. Listen. Even if they have crazy ideas at 4am in the morning. 
  • appreciate your subjects and know that they are more than the teacher who tries to get you to know them. Sometimes, some people just have a really shitty PR department (especially maths)
  • don’t think too much or too little of yourself. You can do amazing things, but that does not give you the license not to do amazing things anymore, rest on your laurels and expect others to applaud you for it. 

  • some relationships take longer than others to build, but getting to understand someone who puzzled you from the first moment and challenged your beliefs will improve your own personality as well
    (side-eye at PE. Yes, I love you now, you crazy athletic bastard)
  • do it for the sake of the relationship itself, because you enjoy their company. Results are presents which, although very much appreciated, should not be the main motivator to keep you going.
    This essentially means that you should think of studying as hanging out with a friend - already makes it seem so much more inviting and way less daunting, does it not?

    (Logic and I, being saltmates. Real friends judge other people together)
  • be aware that all friendships go through rocky patches and some subjects might take a while to warm up to you or you to them. But if you think that it’s worth it, then you gotta power through that. If you don’t think it’s worth it, you gotta be brave enough to say good-bye. 


Look, what I’m actually saying is … be Souma Yukihira from Food Wars.

Food Wars is a crazy and at times pretty pervy manga/anime, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t also one of the best pieces of fiction I’ve ever consumed and if Souma isn’t one of the most admirable main characters I’ve ever encountered.  

The relationship between him and cooking is filled with trust, love and equality. He trusts his cooking skills, because he knows that they have spent a long time together - cooking won’t let him down and he won’t ever let cooking down by stopping to look for ways to improve.

That doesn’t mean, however, that he’s always deadly serious - he loves to play around with cooking and to try ridiculous new things. He never forgets the joy that even the simplest form of cooking brings him. 

There’s one great episode where he puts his life as a chef on the line and someone fearfully asks him what he’d do if he lost. He shrugs and says he could become a lawyer or a teacher or something. So while he loves cooking profoundly, he does not worship it and he knows that there are other relationships he could build up if he had to. He just …doesn’t want to, because cooking is his bff. 

He loves to take on challenges to see how far he and cooking have come -

- and he takes challenges very seriously -


- but takes it even more seriously if he loses -

- and nonetheless knows that they are stronger for the challenges they have faced together. 

So, yes, this is what it means to be in the green. Cherish your friendships, hang out together, be honest, funny, clever, curious and you. 

You’ll be surprised at how much fun the two of you will have, now that all the pretensions and pressures are gone. 

Just …hang out and have fun.

(and maybe watch Food Wars!, because damn, Souma is the MVP of my inspirational heroes)

Have a great day and I’ll see you in the next (and hopefully shorter) part 4 :)

Tarot Reading At Events

Tarot Reading At Events

Before I begin, I encourage everyone to please read the disclaimer at the bottom of this post. Being a Tarot reader who does a significant amount of reading events at festivals, conventions, fairs, and private parties, I thought I would share some insight on things I wish I knew when I first started reading Tarot at events.

Before The Event 

Because each event and situation is different, the preparation can vary but here are some things that I take into account before an event.

Legal:
Some events require a business license, proof of tax id, a merchant’s license and or an entertainers license. Some do not.

Event and Vendor Contracts:
It is important to always look over everything before signing. If there is something that is confusing or you need anything clarified, ask up to two reputable people to explain it just to be sure. If you are providing your own contract for a private event it is always good to include things like payment, cancellation policies, allotted space provided, if you need to provide your own furniture, force majeure, parking policy, etc. I always like to ask about alcohol being served to be able to prepare myself for people who may be under the influence. I ask about smoking and loud noise to help determine if those are conditions I’d be able to do readings under.

  • Is alcohol being served at this event?
  • Will smoking be permitted on the premises?
  • Will there be a smoking designated areas?
  • Will my table or space be located near the designated smoking area?
  • Will my table or space be located near speaker systems, live entertainment, etc?

Travel Expenses:
Something that I didn’t take into account when I first started reading for events are travel, gas and lodging expenses. For private events, I like to include this expense in the contract. For public conventions and festivals, I like to keep this in mind in my event budget.

Getting Paid:

It is always good to know before committing to an event how you will be paid. Some of the more common practices that I have experienced are:

  • The event holder prepays a deposit (usually half the agreed upon rate) for X amount of hours or X amount of readings. The remaining rate is paid for once the event is completed.
  • Paid per reading. The event holder takes a percentage of the amount of money made for each reading and other misc services.
  • You keep all revenue made but prepay for your space or table fee beforehand.

Fees:
For events like conventions and fairs, there are usually booth, space and table fees. You may also have to pay an event ticket fee.  There are also usually premium spaces, premium corner spaces and multiple space rentals for higher rates that receive significantly more foot traffic. If you are reading at a private venue like a corporate event hall, bridal shower or private celebration, depending on the event holder, there aren’t usually table or space rental fees but sometimes there are so it is always best to ask beforehand.

Accepting Payment:
Knowing how and what ways you are going to accept payment for your readings is important to track not only your earnings but makes it easy to pay for any fees accumulated as mentioned before. Cash is usually always ideal but having the ability to accept credit card and even electronic payments is a fabulous addition to your public reading arsenal. Some of the common services that I have used to be paid at events are SquareUp, Google Wallet, ApplePay, Paypal, Venmo, etc. One thing to keep in mind when accepting payments is to take account your local tax laws. Some of these mobile payment applications allow you to apply taxes before checkout. If you are only accepting cash, having a calculator handy would prove beneficial.

What To Bring With You

Deciding What To Bring:
Because events vary significantly depending on venue, event holder and local laws it is important to make sure that you are aware of what you can and can’t bring. Referring back to your contract, you should be able to get an idea of what is allowed.
Some venues provide a set of table and chairs, while others do not. Certain venues allow candles and incense, others do not. If your venue does allow candles and incense to be burned it is always good to be mindful of those with scent sensitivities.

Bringing A Helper:
I always like to bring one friend to help me during events. Having a friend who can help you set up,  watch your booth or table during your breaks or set up the list of names for the reading sign up sheet is an invaluable asset to have.

Decks And Tools To Bring:
This is completely up to you and dependent on your preferences, reading style and the type of readings you are going to offer. I know of some readers who prefer to only use one deck. It is all up to you. Something that I have found to help me especially when reading outdoors is to keep small polished stones near me to place on top of cards so that they do not fly away before or in the middle of a reading.

Common Things To Bring With You:
This is not an exhaustive list by far nor is it something you must follow exactly. These are just some things I like to bring with me that you might want to consider as well. It is important to factor in the cost of these things before an event.

  • Portable Canopy or Pop up tent (If it is permitted and you have the adequate space)
  • Table and Chairs (If not provided)
  • I like to bring a set of four chairs. Three for clients and one for myself.
  • Seat cushions and or back cushion.
  • Table cloth and weights to keep cloth down. I like to use crystals.
  • Rain cover for tent or canopy
  • Small first aid kit 
  • Crystals or polished stones to act as small weights so cards don’t fly away if reading outdoors
  • Tip Jar
  • A few portable light sources if reading through the evening hours at an outside venue
  • Medicine that you need to take.
  • Scent free hand sanitizer.
  • Scent Free bug spray (If outdoors).
  • Sunscreen (If outdoors)
  • Tissues
  • Mints
  • Promotional signs for around event space.
  • Cooler of water bottles with ice packs
  • Cashbox
  • Portable fan
  • Phone battery backup
  • Mobile Tablet and battery backup (I utilize it as a portable point of sales device)
  • A copy of your code of ethics
  • A reading waiting list

Customizing Your Event Space:
Because each event and Tarot reader is different, customizing your event space is entirely up you, as long as it abides by the venue or event holders rules. I’ve created luxurious spaces filled with twinkle lights and scarves and other times I’ve kept my space minimalistic and simple with just a table, a set of chairs and a few signs. It is all up to you to decide what look you are going for. There is no right or wrong way to set up your event space.

Some Easy Ways To Customize Your Space:

  • Tent banner and table banner with logo and website URL
  • Crystal/Salt Lamps (electric or candle holder based)
  • Candles (electric or wax based)
  • Scarves
  • Tapestries
  • Twinkle Lights
  • Flags
  • Wind Chimes
  • Bells
  • Fabric Pannels
  • Pillows
  • Baskets
  • Lanterns
  • Faux walls with art

Promotional And Marketing Tools:
Events are a fabulous way to showcase your reading services, website and social media accounts to prospective clients. Some of the common ways that you could market yourself would be:

  • Business card holder and supplying business cards before or after readings.
  • Raffles for a paid reading or service
  • Promotional brochures about you and your readings.
  • Stickers with your logo
  • Table Tents
  • Buttons or pins
  • Flyers to your website or online shop.
  • Promotional post cards with coupon codes for new clients
  • E-mail list sign up form
  • Digital Light Box or Marquee Sign
  • Sale sheets

The Day Of The Event

Being Mindful Of Your Health:
It is important to listen to your body. Do not overwork yourself. Stay hydrated and fed. I use up a lot of spoons (energy) during reading marathon sessions. I like to have a plan of action if I have depleted my energy reserves drastically before the event. Ensure that you take breaks, walk around for a bit, use the restroom and take any medicine that you may need. If you are working outdoors, periodically applying on sunscreen and bug spray is also beneficial. Another thing that I like to do is keep a misting fan with cold water to mist myself during, especially hot and humid events. For events during cooler months, I like to keep a large comfy sweater or jacket and a scarf in my possession. For those who subscribe to the belief in creating sacred spaces, grounding and centering, and shielding your energy, these things might be beneficial for you to do before you start reading at the event.

Be Mindful Of Mean-Spirited And Unsafe People:
Sometimes you will encounter people who are skeptics or other readers who may want to show you their level of expertise and importance by making you feel less than. Remember that you are awesome and that you are worth all the hard work and dedication it took you to book this event. You are talented and do not deserve to be mistreated. Another thing to be mindful of is if your event is serving alcohol. If you are ever in a situation where someone can possibly be violent or harmful to you, themselves or others around them, knowing who to call or where the nearest authority is located is strongly beneficial before the event.

Reading Rates
There are various ways to price your services for an event. If you aren’t being prepaid or have made prior payment arrangements by the event coordinator or a private company beforehand.  Your rates are completely up to you. Some common ways to determine your reading rate are:

  • Setting a base reading rate depending on divination type. (Tarot Vs Pendulum)
  • Setting a base reading rate by tarot spread.
  • Setting a base reading rate by amount of cards pulled.
  • Setting a base reading rate by designated time breakdown.
  • Setting a base reading rate by the energy needed to perform the different type of reading. (Tarot Reading Vs Mediumship Session)

Before Reading For Others:
I think it is important to keep an open mind when reading for others and to set safe boundaries for yourself. I also think its important for readings to be done in a respectful and comfortable way for both parties involved. Before I begin any reading I like to designate a few moments to either share a copy of my ethics of my prospective client or give them a short rundown of my ethics, ask for their preferred pronouns and provide my preferred pronouns to them as well. I also listen attentively to any questions or concerns the client may have before the reading. I also make an effort to ensure that my readings are accessible to everyone so I also ask if there is any way they would prefer the reading performed that is nonverbal. I do my very best to accommodate this.

Calming Nervousness:
It can be intimidating reading for others in person. Something that I like to do is introduce myself casually to prospective clients walking by. I like to smile, start a little small talk and talk a little bit about the event and who I am. This gets the good vibes going for me and helps to ease my nervousness. Before reading I like to shuffle my cards a few times to “shuffle out” any of my nervousness.

After Reading For Others:
After the allotted time for the reading has passed or you have wrapped up the reading in its entirety, it is important to thank the client and let them know that the reading session has now ended. Being kind and firm will allow you to be accountable of your timing and also keep your reading wait list from becoming too much to handle.

After The Event:
Something that I like to do before packing up and leaving is thank the event coordinator and offer a complimentary reading if they have not received one already. I clean up my space and leave. For the next week after the event, I practice lots of self-care and do what I can to help replenish my energy levels. If you subscribe to the belief of cleansing and recharging your tarot decks and or energy this week would possibly be a good time do so. I also like to take the time to write down the things I believe I could improve for next time or the next events and the things I was proud of achieving.

Misc Tips:
These tips which were graciously added with the permission of @tarotwithjeff and @corvinnia. Thank you so much!

  • Having a small clock that can be placed where both you and the client can see it.
  • A small toolkit. At the very least I take a multi-tool, a flashlight, scissors, and duct tape.
  • If you’re at a venue with access to electricity, plan accordingly. Is there a wall outlet near your space, or do you have one of those outlet boxes used at large event venues such as convention centers? Do you need to bring an extension cord and/or power strip/surge suppressor?
  • Healthy snacks!!! Especially for long events.
  • If it’s an outdoor event, take a wide-brimmed hat in addition to sunscreen.
  • Some sort of rolling crate, cart, etc. to help with schlepping stuff from your vehicle to your space at the event. This can be even more important when you’re dependent on public transportation.
  • Keep a checklist so you know what should be packed before you leave for the event, and to make sure you don’t leave anything behind after the event.
  • Have a fast pack battle plan ready for weather related situations. (Think if I need to be moved quickly how would I do that.) 
  • Rubbermaid type tubs with lids and folding dolly or hand cart can be life savers. 

The End:
I know. I know. FINALLY. This post was SO LONG. After all is said and done, being a Tarot reader at an event can be a lucrative way to market yourself, meet new and like-minded people and make great income. It is lots of hard work and dedication but it is one of the most worthwhile experiences I’ve ever done as a Tarot reader. It is my greatest hope that this article has helped you in some way.


Post Notes:
Please do not remove the captions.
Title: Tarot Reading At Events
Copyright:  © Ivan Ambrose 2017
Disclaimer: This post in no way, shape, or form is intended to tell you how you must go about being a Tarot reader at an event or to police you on what to bring to such events. The intention of this post is to share my experiences with reading Tarot at events. This isn’t the only way, the absolute right way or the way that you “should” approach this topic. No event, venue or two tarot readers are alike. This is the way that I choose to do things and how events and reading venues are in my area. Your local events and venues may do things differently.  I can only speak from personal experience and what has worked for me for countless years. I encourage you to do your own research, to do what you are comfortable with and to tailor any advice provided henceforth to your specific needs and individual situation. Also please keep in mind that there are various different rules, regulations, and laws that precede your location, state, country and the event and tarot reading guidelines in your area that can and will differ from those in my location. I encourage and open up this conversation to respectful debate and added commentary to supplement this post of any kind. 
Safe Space Tags: Long Post
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Mirror and stone

Sameen’s voice in Farsi is liquid and gentle. At least, it seems that way to you now, hearing her speak for the first time, your head in her lap and your eyes closed. One hand weaves through your hair; the other holds her father’s battered copy of Rumi’s love poetry.

It’s late, but neither of you can sleep. The spring night is unseasonably warm, so you’ve folded back the sheets and are currently sweating in a tank top and a pair of boxers from Sameen’s drawer. Seemed fair to steal, since you’re the one who dropped off and picked up her laundry at the wash-and-fold around the corner. The shirt you’re wearing is old enough that, even freshly laundered, it smells like her.

You don’t know what the words mean; you simply let them wash over you and through you. Sameen reads limpidly, fluently, in musical phrases. She smooths hair over your temple, cards through the strands, winds a curl around her finger.

The heat is making your shoulder ache; the painkillers you reluctantly took have only just started to work through your body and soften your thoughts. None of that matters much now, with your cheek resting on Sameen’s inner thigh and her voice pouring over and into every part of you.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Yes, Dee, you really should be working. Bet your horses and their owners miss you when you spend all day on here. Why don't you be a regular fan & stop spreading lies & conspiracy theories about Sam & Cait. Wonder what the uni would think of Professor McD's wife being such an obsessed out of touch with reality fanatic. And it would really be embarrassing for K to know that her mother is considered an Outlander tinhatter. Light shipping with no conspiracy theories spread is the way to go, Dee.

Awww, anon, am I spending too much time on Tumblr for your tastes? Debunking too many of your sacred, but not very well supported opinions? Sorry about that- but what I choose to do with the publicly available information that is available to me is my prerogative, as also is how I spend my free time. That’s the time when I am not working. My tag line is a bit of humour, anon, not to be taken seriously. All the work gets done and then some, anon, never worry about that!
And speaking of publicly available information, I see that you have also availed yourself of some and done some poking about as to me and my family. No problem as far as I am concerned, or my family either. It is, after all, publicly available information and you are quite welcome to it. But you leave me at something of a social disadvantage, anon, in that you presume to address me on a first name basis- but, as you have chosen to remain anonymous-I don’t yet have your name to reciprocate properly with our first name basis communications. Oh, well, I suppose there is nothing for it but to just go on addressing you as “anon” until you see fit to introduce yourself.
But I suppose I should now get down to answering your questions. Since you have troubled yourself to learn so much about me it’s the least I can do to reciprocate your interest!

First, my clients are all quite aware of my blog, and of its direction. In fact we often laugh about the absurdities of social media, and the proclivities of certain of its users to take it upon themselves to tell others how they should think. ( that’s a polite way to say “NSTer, anon)

And then there is my husband, who as you point out, anon, is indeed a professor. He was a little miffed to learn about your interest in him, anon, but only because your research seems to have failed to turn up, and refer to him by, his actual job title. He is actually a Distinguished Professor- which means he holds an endowed chair, anon, which means he is a very important part of his department, he teaches the advanced courses, sits on important committees, oh, and he also has tenure. Which means that it doesn’t really matter to him, or to his uni, what sort of things his wife might choose to do with her spare time. Even if that thing is to be an “obsessed out of touch with reality fanatic” lol! He is also well aware of my blog, and it’s content. In fact we both get a really good laugh together most mornings when he shares with me the latest political news a la Trump and friends, and I fill him in on the latest fandom happenings (that’s also a polite way to say “NSTer happenings, anon)

And then there is my lovely daughter, anon. I am so glad you didn’t leave her out of this as I am always happy to talk about her- that’s what parents love to do! She’s also well aware of my blog, and it’s content as well, anon. In fact she was the one who got me started in Tumblr. She ran a fandom blog in another fandom for several years and is also well aware of ships and shipping- and how the term "tinhatter” is applied to any ship that an individual disagrees with (which is a polite way of saying “NSTer”, anon)

So now that the pleasantries are sorted, anon, let’s get down to your real reason for writing. The conspiracy thing. You advocate “light shipping” for me, but there is no such thing. Not in the dictionary, not in the Urban Dictionary, and not even on Google. It doesn’t exist as a word, or a concept. It is only a “thing” in the minds of certain bloggers. The truth is, anon, you either ship it or you don’t. No heavy or light to it.
And as to any “conspiracies” that is also a thing that comes with the territory in this fandom. The position of both sides requires there to be a “conspiracy” for their position to exist. The Sam Cait ship requires the “official” narrative of Sam and other girls to be a put on. And the Samzie ship requires the whole of the matter between Sam and Cait, as displayed by them their own selves, to be a put on. Either way someone is doing a put on, anon, it’s just a difference of opinion as to who.

When I add it up I get sam and Cait, as do my family and friends. Others get a different answer. So be it. Live and let live, and it is all public information after all. It’s not illegal, or even immoral to form opinions about it. Or to print those opinions or discussions.

And that brings me to your last point, anon. The implication that I am putting my family at risk by looking at publicly available information, and printing my opinions about it. Or that I am doing something wrong that I, or they, would not want known about.
It’s obvious that is not the case. If I was doing wrong, and if you were actually someone with the power to do something about that, then we would be having this communication via letterhead, and not via an anonymous submission to my Tumblr blog.

And maybe you should ask yourself what it is that you are really saying when you resort to threats to try to silence the words what you claim to be nothing more than an “obsessed, out of touch with reality fanatic”. If I was truly just a “tinhatter” shouldn’t it be easy to simply ignore me the same way that everyone ignores the homeless guy who stands on the busy intersection preaching loudly, every day, about the end of he world which according to him is directly upon us?
Instead you take the time out of your life to research my family and compose implicit threats- and no one likes to waste time. That tells me that my words are not meaningless. That tells me that my words are believable- and that they are believable enough to cause a threat to your worldview. And that you had no facts at hand, or even a good argument to make to refute them. No reason to need me silenced otherwise that I can see. There really isn’t a higher compliment

So thanks, anon, for taking the time out of your day so send me such a gracious compliment. My family and I send you our regards. Sorry we can’t thank you personally at this time since you are still anonymous, but perhaps in time you will feel comfortable introducing yourself. Or maybe not, since your choice to remain anonymous rather confirms the view that revealing your true identity would also be a reveal that you are in fact nobody whose opinion actually matters- or you would be using your real name and revealing that your opinion DOES matter after all. But this all is making even my eyes roll, anon, so take care of yourself, anon, whoever you are!
Until then- Cheers!

lesson one.

characters: jaebum x reader
genre: smut
wc: 4080
summary: jaebum is jealous. and for no good reason.
author’s note: okay, first of all, this isn’t your typical “the guy is jealous so he has to whisk you away from another guy just to prove to you who you belong to” scenario. no. this is a “you’re a dumbass for being jealous when the only person i want is you. now kiss me.” as from the reader’s perspective. so it’s jaebum getting called out… if that makes sense… i did say this’d be up before the end of the weekend. still got more to come.
 masterlist
➵ disclaimer

Keep reading

Road to Success: Before Opening for Commissions

Artist’s Notes

**First off! I made this specifically for DeviantArt, and then realized that it really applies to every artist who is looking to get into the market of freelance work. I apologize that this journal references that site specifically quite a bit, but the information is still solid.

Commissions. Commissions. Commissions!
It’s all anyone on here seems to talk about. It’s like a measure of popularity.
But there’s a lot of danger in opening for commissions before you’re prepared, and that’s what this particular journal is about. Let’s avoid the common commission pitfalls (a journal for another day  ) and get a healthy, fully prepared start!

Build Your Fanbase

I’ve seen some people join deviantArt (or other sites) and instantly expect to get commissions. We’re talking the same day that they sign up.
Sorry, that’s just not how it works. Actually, you’ll be lucky to get commissions on deviantArt at all. DeviantArt is a community of artists. Sure, there are some buyers on here as well, but very rarely will you find regular work on this site. I like deviantArt because it’s a social network with other artists. It’s a place where I can come to make friends and learn. Sure, I can advertise myself on here, but most of my work comes from my Twitter, Tumblr, and own legwork.
I’d recommend establishing yourself with the same username in as many places as you comfortably can. When you’re narrowing down the prospects, I’d say to avoid small, start-up art communities (you know the ones I’m talking about, those “exclusive”, “by invite only” art sites. Who is going to buy your work there?). Make yourself known on established websites where there is already a user base to be a part of. Twitter, Tumblr, Art Station, Behance, deviantArt, LinkedIn, ConceptCookie and even FurAffinity (if you’re into that kind of thing) are all fantastic options.

Understand Pricing and it’s Consequences 

First off, don’t sell for points. Points is quite literally the equivalent of pocket change. 80 points is $1.
That means that if you’re selling a full color image for 500 points (which I see all the time) you’re selling it for $6.25.
$6.25 for a full picture. A full picture that I can promise you’ve spent more than a half an hour on.
I’ll write a full journal on how pricing works, but generally, you should not be selling your work for less than minimum wage per hour.
I’ll go through a lot of other pricing options in the other journal, but keep in mind that you are working on artwork. This is your time and you should be paid for it. Yes, you might absolutely LOVE doing artwork (so do I!) but you should still be paid for creating images for other people.
If you choose not to be paid now, or to be paid in pocket change now, or to be paid for $5/hr now, you’ll likely regret it later. Your “target market” for lower pricing will not be the same as your target market for average pay. People who pay in dA points likely won’t be returning for more work later, and if they do, it’ll be for the same price. People who are willing to pay what your work is worth are more likely to be repeat customers, are likely to talk more about your work if you do a good job, and are, of course, willing to give you the amount that you deserve so that you’re doing less work for the appropriate amount of money. If you spend most of your time targeting the lower-range market you won’t be able to raise your prices later. (For the record, I’m not talking about general watchers and followers, some people just can’t afford to buy art or don’t need it, but they’re no less valuable in terms of having an awesome fan base. We’re strictly talking about clientele here).

Create a Strong Terms of Service Agreement

Do your research!
Don’t just look at other ToS Agreements on deviantArt, many of them are not strong. If you can’t afford to hire an attorney, do some serious Google searching. There are a ton of really good samples of what your ToS should include.
Again, I’m planning a full journal for this as well, but a few points I could make right now are to include;
A) That you own all rights to your work. Make sure that this is a part of your Terms of Service. Yes, it goes without saying that you own what you make, but many times customers have the misinformed idea that because they’ve paid you they automatically own the artwork and can sell it, make prints of it, etc.
B) A clause about what happens if you become ill. I know it’s likely not something you’re thinking about now, but what if you take a commission and suddenly become ill or are involved in an accident of some kind? You’ll want to detail out what happens. Does the customer get a full refund? Do you require an extension on the work deadline? Do you retain their deposit or the payment for the work that’s been completed, but refund the rest? Think about this now, not later.
C) Bounced checks and returned payments. What if the client pays you in a check and it bounces? What happens if they do a charge-back with PayPal? Is there a fee that you’ll need covered? Most companies have a Returned Payment Fee because they don’t want to get stuck with the fee from the bank or processing center. It’s a smart fee to have included in your contract. From a consumer point of view, I know we all hate that fee, but from a business perspective, it’s a smart idea to have.
D) Do you have a Rush Fee? If a client contacts you and says “I need this done in three days time!” and your average turn around is a month, will there be an additional charge? Keep in mind that this means you’ll be putting all your other clients on the back burner, working longer hours than usual and possibly even weekends or holidays - maybe both. Most artists do have an additional charge for this. Think of it as over time.

**Have a Terms of Service before you open for commissions. Not after. Don’t wait for something to happen where you wish you’d had one.** 

Have Samples of Your Work

Weirdly enough, I felt the need to add this in here. I’ve seen a few people open for commissions that they don’t even have examples for. I’ve been contacted by people who have seriously told me “I don’t have any samples of animation, but I’m a really good animator. I work for $50/30 seconds. When do I start?”.
What?
No!
Don’t be that person. If you’re offering character design commissions, have some samples. If you’re offering storyboard commissions, have some samples. Illustration? Have some samples. Badges? Make some samples. Animation? You guessed it. Samples.
By doing this you’re not only showing your potential customers that you can provide the work you’re claiming you can and giving an example of quality, you’re doing yourself a favor by knowing an approximate of how long it’s going to take you to finish the work so you’re not overcharging your customer or short changing yourself.

In Closing

Remember! These steps aren’t just to help you get more commissions, they’re there for your protection. You don’t want to be involved in an all-too-common horror story scenario where a client can take advantage of you, and you don’t want to give your client a horror story about yourself (that they’ll undoubtedly share with every one of their friends and followers).

Protect your client, protect yourself, and protect your business.

Wounds (M)

Originally posted by sgfgdolans

REQUESTED: a scenario where you’re the owner of the cat that he’s been feeding and getting scratched by. One day you walk outside and see him feeding it and witness your cat scratching him so you invited Jaebum inside to take care of his wounds and one thing leads to another.

Reader (you) x Jaebum

Word Count: 2008

Genre: SMUT & fluff

note: here you go, my dear! I hope you like this one haha! I got a bit too carried away with fluffy jaebum that i totally forgot about smutty jaebum haha. anyways, i’ve been so busy with school and stuff that i’m super stressed rip… but writing does take my mind off of things haha. anyways happy reading and take care!! -admin


Ever since you moved out from your parent’s house, you bought yourself a small kitten since your parents wouldn’t let you get one when you were little. You’ve always wanted a pet, especially a kitten, and decided to get one once your finance issues were okay. You were beyond excited to have your kitten come home and cuddle with you. Although, like every other pet, your kitten would occasionally scratch you when she was feeling playful. So a box of bandages were a must in your apartment.

Another thing your kitten loved was going outside. Occasionally, you would take her down to the laundry room and place her in a basket just outside the room. So when you did your laundry, your kitten would play in the basket with a few toys you’ve brought for her. Lately, you’ve noticed that your kitten was gaining weight rather quickly and you didn’t know if she was sick or not. You didn’t feed your cat that much so you would assume it was part of growing up for your kitten.

A few days ago, while you were exiting the laundry room with your kitten in the basket, you bumped into a rather handsome man. He was tall, wore a hat that covered his face, and seemed like a cold guy. But you were wrong to judge when he spotted you and your kitten when he walked in from outside.

“How old is your kitten?” He asked after spotting your kitten.

“Six months” You replied back, looking down to admire the attention your kitten was getting from an attractive guy.

“Cute.” He smiled at your kitten as he approached you. “May I?”

You looked up at him and smiled. The fact that he was asking you permission to pet your kitten was cute. You nodded your head and suddenly got really shy. You watched as the guy caressed your kitten with his large hands, clearly amused by your playful kitten. You, on the other hand, tried not to freak out because a hot guy was petting your kitten. You admired his handsome features and smiled to yourself. But soon, the guy looked up at you, making your cheeks flush red as you broke away from the sudden eye contact.

“She’s very playful with strangers.” You noted, trying to make a conversation. “She scratches when she gets really playful, so you have to be careful.”

“I have a cat who does the same thing.” He laughed as he continued to play with your kitten. “Her name is Nora.”

“Nora,” You hummed to yourself, “That’s a cute name. I just named my kitten Mittens because she has white paws that look like mittens.”

“At least you have a meaning behind your name. I just named my cat because I liked the name Nora.” The guy smiled at you. You could feel your cheeks rising in color again, feeling incredibly shy. This wasn’t your usual self but you couldn’t help but feel giddy over the fact that a hot guy was actually talking to you.

“Well, it was nice meeting you and your kitten. Oh-” He said as he stuck out his hand to properly greet you. But noticing you were holding your laundry basket, he awkwardly put away his hand and just smiled. “I’m Jaebum, by the way.”

“(Y/N).” You slightly giggled, finding his actions cute.

“I’ll see you around, hopefully.” Jaebum beamed as he walked away, leaving you and your kitten just outside the laundry room.

And for the whole day, you couldn’t take your mind off of Jaebum. Just the thought of a guy like him living in the same apartment building as you made your heart beat a little faster. For a few weeks, you wondered when you were going to meet him again. And whenever you did laundry, you anticipated for the moment Jaebum would meet you like he did last time. That was why you always took your kitten with you to do the laundry, hoping that Jaebum would come.

It was a few weeks later when you saw him again. But this time was different. Once you finished your laundry, you picked up your stuff and walked over to where your kitten was playing. And you found Jaebum holding his hand out, his face full of agony. That was when you noticed two things. One was that your kitten had scratched Jaebum - quite badly as well. The second thing you noticed was Jaebum having a bit of food in his hand. That was when you figured out why your kitten had been gaining weight so quickly. It was because Jaebum had been feeding your kitten. Obviously, that wasn’t the main problem right now.

“Oh my god,” You cried as you ran over to Jaebum and your kitten, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” He hissed as he touched his bleeding hand, “Just a minor scratch.”

You dropped your laundry basket and grabbed Jaebum’s hand, “Doesn’t seem very minor to me. I’ll clean this wound up for you.”

“No, it’s fine.” Jaebum insisted. “I was just feeding her until she scratched me.”

“It’s the least I can do since it’s kind of my responsibly.” You smiled at Jaebum before grabbing your stuff and kitten, leading him up to your apartment. Jaebum didn’t say a word back as you followed you diligently up the stairs. You welcome Jaebum into your small, kind of messy, living space and instructed him to sit on the couch. Dropping your stuff and carrying your kitten to a different area, you grabbed your first aid kit, wet a small piece of towel, and rushed over to Jaebum.

“Give me your hand.” You instructed as you kneeled in between in legs. Jaebum did what he was told and you started to clean his wound. Pressing the wet towel against the the wound, you heard Jaebum let out a low moan, a sound that could only be heard in the bedroom. And you had to admit, it did slightly turn you on but you had to keep your focus on that wound.

“Ah, fuck.” Jaebum cursed as you applied more pressure onto the wound with the towel. You could feel your inside getting excited on how Jaebum cursed so sexually. Or that’s how you thought of it as. You were in between in legs, knelt down, and tending his hand. How could you not have those thoughts?

Shaking you head, you wanted to get this done with so you could take care of the problem you had down below in the shower. After cleaning and bandaging Jaebum up, you let out a heavy sigh and started to clean up.

“Thanks, (Y/N).” Jaebum huffed out as he sat there on your couch, watching you clean up the mess on the ground.

“N-no problem.” You stuttered, as your cheeks flushed red. You had the blame the way you were feeling at the moment for the shyness. You were immensely turned on because of Jaebum and his sexual curses and moans. But you weren’t complain either.

You stood up from the ground as you walked over to the counter to drop off the first aid kit. As you bent over the counter to lay your head on the cold surface, you heard Jaebum shuffle from behind as he got up from the couch and walked over to you.

“Are you okay?” Jaebum asked, as you lifted your head up to look at his handsome face.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You sighed. Why wasn’t he leaving? You had finished with his wound and you wanted him to leave quickly so you could take care of your own business. But Jaebum just stood there and chuckled under his breath. He noticed your flushed face and knew that you were attracted to him from the day you met him. And he would admit to himself that he was attracted to you as well.

“(Y/N)” He said as he grabbed your waist, forcing you to stand up straight and look at him. And once you did stand up straight, Jaebum pressed your body against the counter and connected his lips against yours.

It was shocking at first since you weren’t ready for it. But after a few moments, you started to move your lip sin sync with his. His lips were sweet so it didn’t take long for you to get addicted to it. You ran your tongue over his lips, wanting more of him - since your were already turned on, as he granted access and darts his tongue inside your mouth. You moaned against his mouth, feeling incredibly hot, as Jaebum’s hands started to roam down to your waist.

“Fuck.” You softly cursed as Jaebum disconnected his lips from you to press his lips against your neck. You moaned as Jaebum started to suck on the sweet spot on your neck as his hands found your inner thighs. You would be lying if you hadn’t imagined Jaebum coming to your apartment to fuck you. And you knew it was wrong to think that way but at the moment, it didn’t matter anymore. He was attracted to you and you were attracted to him.

“Oh god, Jae.” You moaned as Jaebum began massaging you inner thighs, making you want more of him. You were turned on before this whole thing happened and now, he was torturing you with his teasing.

Jaebum sensed your need for him and smiled against your neck. He let go of you and stepped back before grabbing the loops of your jeans and pulling you closer to him. He played with the buttons of your jeans before pulling them down, very slowly, as you stepped out of them. His fingers trailing up your legs before palming your panites, feeling how wet you were from the beginning.

“You’re so wet for me, baby girl.” Jaebum growled as he slid his fingers against your clothed slit, relieving the need of his touch.

“This is why you don’t curse so sexually while I’m cleaning your wounds.” You breathed out as you felt Jaebum move your panties to the side to circle your clit with the pad of his fingers.

“Well,” He hummed as he pulled your panties down, “Let me help you with this since you helped me with my business.”

And with that, he guided you to bend over your counter with one swift move. He pushed your hips lower and spread your legs to get a good view of your lower half. He licked his lips before dropping to his knees and grip onto your legs. Jaebum didn’t waste time as he darted his tongue against your wet slit, not leaving any part of your pussy untouched by his tongue. You pressed your forehead against the counter and let out a loud moan when Jaebum glided his tongue round and round your engorged pearl, the sensations making your knees wobble.

“You taste so fucking good, baby girl.” Jaebum groaned as slurping sounds of Jaebum’s mouth and tongue over your pussy as well as your breathless moans filled up the apartment. You didn’t care if the people next door heard you. The amount of pleasure Jaebum was giving you was more than what your fingers could ever do.

“Jae.” You moaned when Jaebum’s mouth sucked on your sensitive nub. His arms held your hips steadily, allowing you to buck your hips against his tongue. He ran his tongue and over your slit, leading you to your first orgasm. Jaebum didn’t stop sucking your clit until your whole body shook and collapsed on the counter with a loud cry.  

Jaebum pulled away from you and stood up from the floor. You craned your neck to the side to see Jaebum slowly stripping himself. He walked over to the windows, with just his boxers, closing the blinds, making the room dark. You turned around to face him and his smirking face and let out a breathy sigh.

Jaebum sent you a wink before walking towards you, “Let’s have some fun, shall we?”



(HAD TO MAKE IT ESCALATE FROM 1 TO 100 REAL QUICK OTHERWISE Y’ALL WOULD HAVE A 6000 SCENARIO)

The 5 elements of a Karate lesson

Still fumbling with making up lesson plans? 

I GOT YOUR BACK FRIEND

Originally posted by vgeta

Let me explain to you the 5 fundamentals of any martial arts class

  1. There needs to be a purpose
  2. Everyone needs to put work/effort in
  3. There is the necessity to learn something
  4. There needs to be fun
  5. Everyone needs to work respectfully with and towards each other

Now these things seem to be very basic. But you cannot make an intricate lesson plan if you can’t master the basic rules of a class.

Just like karate itself right?

Purpose of a class

There’s a reason that this one is listed first. You need to have a goal set so you can form your class accordingly. Not just that, but you also want to give your students a sense of purpose. That they are working towards a goal.

Ask yourself the following questions:

What is learning?

What does it mean for someone to learn something?

What is a lesson/class?

Think about it.

Originally posted by lessonsfromdisney

Thought about it?

What is learning?

To bring someone from the point of being completely ignorant, to knowledgeable.
To bring someone from the point of being unable, to able.

Which will influence one’s behaviour in a lasting manner. 

What does it mean for someone to learn something?

Learning a sport/hobby etc. is different from regular school. They chose to this themselves
It means that they find it fun. Or cool, useful, badass etc.

Learning a new skill is incredibly rewarding. You feel like you grow as a person when you have earned yourself a new skill.

What is lesson/class?

A class is a wholesome setting with boundaries which is created to achieve a certain goal/purpose. We can define a class as a collective set of learning situations, which are adapted to one another.

So now we know what a class consists off, you can determine your goal for a class. This could be to simply practice what you need to know for your exam but let’s take it one step further.

Originally posted by gameraboy

Everyone needs to put work/effort in

This means you too Sensei! You can’t just read the required techniques off the list, you need to put effort in! You can do this in various ways:

Instead of teaching a technique,  teach a principle.

Principles are a solid part of martial arts. They are the building stones to a technique. 

For instance, in a punch you have the term hikite. Sounds fancy? Maybe, but it’s the retracting arm when you punch. Suddenly it almost sounds boring. But it’s present in many many techniques! Examine the techniques you wanted to teach, establish which one require hikite the most and if there are a few on the list, think up an exercise to stimulate hikite (for instance, a special game of tag).

Training principles will help all the techniques involved.


Besides your way of teaching, think about the fact that this is sports/exercise. People come in for a good time and the feeling that they did something useful with their time after class is done. Keep them busy. There is nothing more boring than waiting. And most students aren’t thát self-disciplined that they just keep training on their own
Also, if they’re not training, there will be chatting or fighting.

Originally posted by kasugano

Get the class warmed-up. Do not break them, do not underwhelm them, a good warm-up (absolute maximum with adults I’d say is tops 30 minutes). After that, get to work right away. If you would like to do some stretching that’s fine, at the end of class.

There is the necessity to learn something

A clear goal like:

  • Improve the use of hikite
  • Make sure that with every kick the knee is properly raised
    or
  • Make sure that one works from a low centre of gravity 

These set a purpose, but you have adapt these goals accordingly to your students. If you are like me and have a varied class of levels from white to black belts, you need to be able to analyse and see the different steps one has to take to get to the top. 

If you can find the right goal for each level, you will give them a goal that they will feel like it is obtainable. No one would bother to climb if you can never get to the top.

There needs to be fun

Some people are dead serious about their training (*cough* me), but there should always be room for a little laugh, granted your martial art allows it.
Especially with children’s classes.

Create the fun by following things:

  • Do a fun warm-up.
    This is your entrance to the class. Energize people. Kids with a (karate-infused) game, adults with maybe some bagwork or teamwork.
    NOTE: I barely- if ever do ball games with children. It’s distractive.
  • Do not endlessly practice the same thing.
    With kids, one subject = absolute max. 20 minutes
    Adults, depending on the level = max. 40 minutes.
    NOTE: does not apply to serious students like me. We can do the same thing for 1,5 hours.
  • Allow different personalities to exist.
    Sounds weird? Look in a group, there are always people who react different to each other. Shy, show-off, serious, prankster, etc.
    People have to have the feeling they can be themselves, no matter how different they are.

Originally posted by zamasu

Everyone needs to work respectfully with and towards each other

Now this last point ties in with the previous one. Fun is awesome, so is harsh training, but there is no class or martial arts without respect/courtesy

Karate-do begins and ends with bowing:

一、空手道は礼に始まり礼に終る事を忘るな 

Hitotsu, karate-do wa rei ni hajimari rei ni owaru koto o wasuruna.


You, as a teacher have to be a guardian of that state of mind. Always intervene when things are done without respect.

You are the guardian of your class, your purpose,your fun and the respect!

analysing the tri.angle

Remember when people thougt we were getting a “love triangle” in Chapter 4? Well, that didn’t last long. What we did get, though, is far more interesting.

@skuag​ asked me to write about the parallels between Soushitsu and Episode 26 of Digimon Adventure, and so here’s a brief analysis of the Taichi/Sora/Yamato scenes in both of them. Beware of tri. spoilers.

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midnight star (1)

genre: thief!au

star of the show: NCT’s Taeyong

word count: 2,303 words

author’s note: the first part to a “whoever-knows-how-many-parts” series because I’ve had this idea for too long and I love Taeyong.    

other parts: (1) (2) (3) (4)

Originally posted by itsmyluxion

opening line: “A thief who steals to feed his own competitive ego, Lee Taeyong has never tried to steal something as intangible as a heart before, let alone yours.” 

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anonymous asked:

You'll talk someday about how the Port Mafia is portrayed? ( not the bightest bulbs in the chandelier huh. Not the most subtle either) im not trying to rush you, it bothers me too and im just curious. I like your analysis. Have a nice day

Haha all kidding aside, I’ve been meaning to talk about them for quite a while now. It’s just that I want the stuff I write to make sense, because usually they’re self-indulgent rambles. And this one won’t be an exception, especially since I have so many feelings about Port Mafia.

Usually it’s the protagonists who are outmatched, outgunned, outnumbered, or just generally outclassed. Through sheer force of will and nakama power perfect teamwork do they come out on top. Even then sacrifices have to be made. At the start, the Armed Detective Agency seemed like it will follow this mold, but soon we are introduced to their abilities.

On paper and in practice, the abilities of the members of ADA greatly complement each other. This means that even with few active operatives who can work on the field, they got all bases covered. If this were an MMO they’d have Atsushi and Kenji as tanks, Atsushi again and then Kunikida for DPS, Tanizaki going for Assistance/Crowd Control, Fukuzawa as Buffer, Dazai as Debuffer and of course, Yosano as their Healer. Not to mention Ranpo, the formidable brains behind their operations (with Dazai as backup, or even vice versa).

Now let’s take a look at the mafia. Not counting Odasaku, in their group who doesn’t have an offensive ability? Ace? Sure, but his ability only applies to his subordinates, and anyway he’s also dead. See the problem? Chuuya probably has the most versatile ability in the mafia right now, but it’s either he takes great pride in his prowess as a martial artist or he just can’t think of creative ways to take advantage of the fact that he can, well, manipulate gravity. There’s also Elise, who seems to be “programmed” to be able to do feats no ordinary human can, but we don’t know much about her. Outside of these two, the one who impresses is Kajii. His ability sounded like a joke sure, but he knows how to make use of it and in the right circumstances, can be that one member to watch out for. There’s also talks about another executive member or two. Whether one exists we don’t know, but I can only hope they’ll possess an ability that is a supportive one, or something gamechanging like mind reading or memory wipe.

Don’t get me wrong! It is rather refreshing to see a team full of competent people, especially in their line of work where they’ll find themselves smack dab in the middle of dirty matters the police and the military would rather not handle. That they are well-rounded means it’s easy to imagine why the government would want their help, why they get the requests they do, and why they are favored to take on cases that will pit them against criminals/evildoers who have their own deadly abilities.

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Purrfect Comfort

Also on AO3
Chronologically follows “I’m Yours.”


Chat bounded across rooftops, eager for his evening visit with his girlfriend. Girlfriend! He had a girlfriend. Secret, girlfriend, of course, but still awesome.

He’d been required to attend a Gabriel vision meeting that took all morning, followed by back-to-back shoots this afternoon. But the knowledge that Mari and her family would be waiting for him to show up for retro video game night was enough to help him power through. As luck had it, he’d been released early, and had wasted no time locking himself in his room and escaping his father’s gilded cage.

He timed a leap just right to catch a light-pole to swing his trajectory back up and to the next roof. As he closed in on the T & S Bakery, he slowed down and moved into the shadows. He’d always been careful to keep his visits out of the public eye. At this point, he was in far too deep to stop, and he had no contingency plan if things went wrong. He should probably do something about that, but to be honest, he was much better at planning on the fly. Ladybug was the team’s longer range strategist.

As he dropped to Marinette’s balcony, he was surprised how dark her room was. He peeked in, half expecting to see her taking a cat nap, but she wasn’t there. She hadn’t minded him coming in through her window that one night, in the rain, so it was probably okay. He tapped a few times, so he could say that he had, before lifting the skylight to lower himself into her room.

“Princess?” he said quietly, looking around just to be sure she wasn’t at her desk or anything. There was no response. Her trapdoor was open, and he hesitated at the top of the stairs, listening before descending. He could hear Tom and Sabine, but Marinette was being unusually quiet. A little worried something was wrong, he took the stairs two at a time, something he’d learned to do specifically because it irritated his father.

Keep reading

Fanfiction - Stealing Tomorrow (Chapter 5)

Chapter 5 – Boston Calling

Edinburgh, 12 years ago

Claire absentmindedly twisted her silver wedding ring on her finger, listening as Jamie rummaged in the adjacent bathroom, preparing for bed. The sounds he made – whistling as he shaved, cursing in Gaelic as he cut himself with the razor or tunelessly singing in the shower – were her favourite playlist in her life’s soundtrack.

He came out and turned off the lights, immersing their room in shadows, as the wind howled outside. Pulling up the sheets to slide in next to her, she yelped as his cold hands grabbed her buttocks with purpose.

“Hmm.” Jamie growled. “Ye’re so plump and warm, Sassenach. Can’t think of a better way to warm myself.”

“My ass is freezing, but you’re welcome.” She complained, but scooted closer to him nonetheless. Claire enjoyed the feel of his hands, brushing her arms and waist, tracing her outline from shoulder to hip, melting against him as she had so many times before. She bit her lip, trying to regain focus and not to surrender completely to the sensation altogether. “I received a letter today.”

“A secret admirer, lass?” Jamie said jokingly, but she heard the hint of jealousy in his lilt. She was very popular amongst the young doctors - and even some professors treated her with unwanted gentleness and looks filled with longing directed to her bosom. Jamie always managed to rein in the urge to kill them all in gruesome ways, leaving her with the task of subtly display her wedding ring and casually mention her husband’s menacing height.

“Not quite.” She softly said and rolled to face him. “Before we met I applied to a scholarship in Harvard – they have a fantastic program and…Well, I really didn’t have anything to root me here.” Claire shrugged. “As so much time passed without an answer, I forgot I even sent them my application.”

“And ye got an answer today?” He brushed her curls, caressing her face.

“I did.” She swallowed hard. “Apparently my papers were lost – placed in the wrong archive. They found them a few days ago.” Claire looked into his eyes. “And they want me, Jamie. They are offering me a full scholarship to graduate there. There was a note with the letter – from Doctor Raymond. He directs the surgical program at Mass Gen and he is offering me a spot there to learn under him.”

“Doctor Raymond.” Jamie massaged her hand, furrowing his brows in concentration. “The wee doctor whose articles ye keep reading even while we eat? The one ye once called “A legend disguised as a toad”?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “That’s the one.”

They stayed in silence for a while, contemplating the ramifications of such mind-altering news.

A Dhia! That is amazing, Sassenach!” Jamie smiled at last, kissing her deeply. “I’m verra proud of ye. I always knew ye were extraordinary and I’m so glad others are coming to the same conclusion. When will ye go?”

“What do you mean?” Claire asked, confused. “I can’t go! It’s on the other side of the bloody planet!”

“I ken that.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I have my geography up to date, Sassenach. But ye have to go – it’s your dream we’re talking about, your career. If they really are the best, ye must learn from them - the chance being offered so prettily.”

“But this means years there, Jamie!” She insisted, agitated. “To change our lives so profoundly they will barely look the same!”

“The most important things will remain the same, mo nighean donn.” Jamie said in a soft tone. “I will still love ye with all my heart. I will still be proud of you to the point of bursting with it.”

“But Jamie…” Claire said in a husky voice, fighting back the sudden threat of tears. “You can’t come. And I won’t leave you!”

“Aye.” Jamie agreed, his eyes downcast. “I canna come.”

One year before Brian Fraser had been walking on his state, overseeing the harvest intended to the malting of whiskey, when a shattering headache had overcame him. His workers had found him on the ground, barely breathing, his left side paralyzed and his speech incomprehensible. Victim of a massive stroke, he had managed to survive by sheer Fraser stubbornness – but in spite of vigorous physical therapy and all around the clock care, he would never regain full function of his hand and leg. Jenny had been forced to assume the bulk of the Fraser business, but Jamie went to Lallybroch every week to assist his father and help his sister – spending himself on tiresome journeys and constant heartbreak. It was impossible for him to leave the country for a long period, and they were both painfully aware of that realization.

“I will write them explaining it is impossible for me to go.” Claire insisted, entwining their fingers, their wedding rings touching as chains of an unbreakable bond. “I can become a surgeon just as easily here.”

“You canna do that, Claire.” Jamie said vehemently. “I canna live with myself knowing I hindered ye. That our marriage was an obstacle for ye to move forward – I can’t and I won’t. We have our entire lives to be together – we can manage to survive a few years of distance. Besides, I’ll come to visit ye as often as I can manage.”

“I can’t, Jamie…” Claire pleaded, entangling her fingers on his auburn hair, already dreading the moment she wouldn’t be able to touch him – to roll in bed in the middle of the night and find him waiting for her. To hear his voice coming up the stars, joyful with the prospect of kissing her once he opened the door. To smell him on her skin as an invisible cloak he had offered her to wear.

“You can and you will.” His thumbs traced under her eyes, as if predicting the need to wipe out tears, still to come. “For I love ye, Sassenach. Nothing will ever change that.”

A grief strong as lightening was already ravaging her body, searing her chest and belly, turning iron into steel for the armour she would wear in his absence.

“Alright.” She accepted, closing her eyes – but still seeing him clearly, gazing at her with love and confidence. “I’ll go.”

He kissed her with fervour, pulling her against his body to remind her that their farewell was still impending, that their touches could still be carved in more than memories.  

“We should stop trying, then.” Jamie whispered softly, rubbing her flat stomach – the box of wonders where they had been hoping to create their own shared miracle. “We’ll think about it again in a couple of years.”

“Does that mean you won’t make love to me anymore?” Claire asked in a fearful tone. “Because I won’t have that, Mister Fraser.”

“Nah.” Jamie smiled with mischief and rolled to place her atop of him. “Just that I will love ye more safely.”

****

Boston, 11 years ago

“I can’t take it anymore, Jamie.” Claire declared to her phone. “I can’t concentrate on anything. I miss you too much.”

“I miss ye too, mo ghraidh.” He sighed. “I’ll be there in a couple of weeks – I can’t stay more than a few days though. Jenny is huge like a ripe watermelon and she can go into labour soon – I must be here to see to Da when she goes to the hospital.”

“Send her and Ian my solidarity – or don’t, she might bite your head off.” Claire laughed and then turned on her side, watching the snowflakes twirling and dancing through her Boston window – she could pretend she was in Scotland, talking to him while he was on another room of their house. “I might just go back with you. This is going nowhere – I’m so behind everyone else. I’m failing, Jamie. Miserably. If I keep this up I’ll be invited out of the program.”

“Ye canna be serious, Claire.” Jamie admonished. “I’m sure ye’re exaggerating.”

“No – I’m not!” She closed her eyes, shielding her eyelids with her palm. “Doctor Raymond called me to his office yesterday – he told me forthright he was very disappointed in me. “Waisted potential” – I believe is what he said.”

General surgery is a hard and demanding residency on a good day – an inferno of sleepless hours, endless techniques and competing colleagues on a mild one. A desperation pit where all hope goes to die on a bad one. Claire had started hopeful and energetic, trying her hardest to be the first to arrive for rounds; reading ahead for every surgery in order to know the answer to every possible question; prescinding of her scarce hours of sleep for the chance of doing one more minor procedure.

But as time went by, Jamie’s absence became an unsurpassable obstacle – the miles separating them a looming shadow, that consumed everything else delicately touched by any light form. Claire started having sleeping problems – which made her unfocused and sometimes late for rounds, arriving just in time to hear a reprimand from her superior. She would ignore what was being said while she texted Jamie, being caught off guard by their questions. She became increasingly more unhappy and sloppy – which had culminated on her neglecting to prescribe the right antibiotic for a patient with known allergies, resulting in an almost fatal anaphylactic shock.

Jamie stayed silent on the line for a moment – she could hear him breathing deeply on the other side. Eventually, he talked again – his voice husky.

“Everything will be as it should, Claire. I’ll take care of it – I promise.”

****

Boston, 10 years and 9 months ago

Claire smiled as she poured water on her vase – the Forget-Me-Nots starting to bloom in a promising array of blue. Jamie had surprised her by bringing the plant with him when he came to visit – it had been peacefully living on their room’s balcony in Edinburgh since they moved there.

Her eyes drifted to the place near the door where they had parted. Jamie already had his travelling bag next to the door, ready to take the cab to the airport. She had located her purse to accompany him and smiled to him in an expectant way, when he had grabbed her by the waist and pressed her against the wall.

“Once more.” He growled against her ear, his hands feverishly displacing her clothes before they locked themselves on her hips. “I must.”

He had entered her like a storm, powerful and devastating, raining on her senses as he thundered on her body, a passion so violent it bordered on despair. All the time his body rocked against her, his forehead was nestled on her neck – he spoke in Gaelic, broken sounds that he repeated like a prayer, as he worshiped her with abandon. When he lost himself to her, moistness bathed her shoulder - tears and sweat like christening presents, offered to protect her against the demons of separation.

The sudden ringing of the phone jumped her, ripping her out of the trance of memories.

“Hey, you.” Claire saluted, knowing it must be Jamie calling. “Not a word for the last couple of days – I was beginning to think you had found yourself a new wife.”

“Claire.” He sounded detached and cold. “I…Needed some time to think.”

“About what?” She said, surprised. Her knowing heart was already racing, preparing her body for an impact she hadn’t predicted. “You’re scaring me, Jamie.”

He stayed silent – like he was reuniting every shred of courage left – and then talked again, sounding supernaturally calm.

“This isn’t working, Claire. I think we should end it.”

“What?” She croaked, her lips numb, as if kissed by unforgiving black death. “You can’t be serious. Is this your idea of a joke, Jamie?”

“No.” He said with assertiveness. “We should separate.”

“But what happened?” She raised and started to walk around her room, everything spiralling around her in a descent to nothingness. “How can you say something like this?”

“Ye were right.” He said in a laconic tone. “It’s too hard. I thought I could – but I can’t. This isna a marriage, Claire. It’s best if we’re both freed from it.”

“I can come back!” She sobbed, rubbing her face – the metal of her ring taunting her like a distant laugh. “I’ll go to Scotland and we can make things right again.”

“No!” He answered, almost angry. “Seas. Don’t come back.”

“What are you saying?” Claire pleaded, her voice no more than a rasp.

“I don’t want ye anymore.” He whispered. “It’s over. I…I want to be with someone else.”

“Jamie…” She cried, sliding to the floor where she curled. “Jamie…”

“I am sorry.” Jamie said and the phone call ended.

I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry.

Somewhere, something was breaking. Maybe it was the heart they had built together which she carried inside her chest – maybe the entire world was crashing down, through the vortex opened by the death of their shared star. Maybe all the stars were actually falling from the sky, as the ultimate shower of unfulfilled desires, until nothing remained but meaningless darkness, where she could find solace in the broken shards.

I don’t want you anymore.

Or maybe it was the way her hands blindly searched for the vase - where flowers of ancient promises could never live again, to remind her of his betrayal – as she crushed it on the floor.  

RIGHT HERE

Request: can u do an imagine wherein y/n is a college student and is having a hard time balancing her studies and having a long distance relationship with Justin and Justin plans a surprise for her and does all these cute stuff to y/n.

Sorry for the wait. Hope It was worth it.

Originally posted by beliectionerimagines


Time. It’s either your best friend or your worst nightmare. - A blessing or a curse - A hero or a villain. There are so many scenarios that can play out around the little hands of a mechanical machine that hangs on a dull wall.

In my case, at this second, I honestly could not hate time anymore then right now. It feels like it’s purposely teasing me, trying to boil my blood with every agonisingly slow second. I swear I think I can
hear the clock laughing at me. Each tick of the hands is a tiny giggle directed only at me.

There is so little time left, yet it feels like an eternity more. Just a few more seconds…

Three…

Two…

One…

RING

Oh thank God! With both hands, I swipe up all my equipment from in front of me and shove them aggressively back into my book bag. Not even letting Mr Martin compete his lecture on political opinions, I rush out the door and away from that nightmare of a class.

On the campus grounds, I’m immediately greeted with rushing students all around, all with the same determined goal and that is to get as far away from this hell hole as possible. Without even sparing a glance in the opposite direction, I’m immediately on the rush towards the girls dormitories.

My dorm room once I had approached it was my number one priority, quickly dashing inside as quick as possible, slamming the door with a sigh behind me. But It wasn’t as if I could just stop, drop and do nothing. I had hours and hours of studying ahead of me, and I was already having trouble keeping my eyes open.

It’s times like this I really wish Justin was here. To calm me down during times of anxiety and stress. I just miss him so much but I don’t have the heart to ask him to come and visit. He’s doing what he loves and I would never make myself a priority during a time made for belieber’s.

Many hours later, my dorm mate had been in out of the room for the last 20 minutes, yelling and laughing about with her friends. This totally threw me off, losing my train of thought somewhere between my books and the noise.

A sigh escaped my lips, fingers applying pressure to my temples in agitation. I can’t do this, not while I’m this distracted. I need my baby boy.  

After rubbing the corners of my eyes of the sleep forming, and removing my glasses from my face, I finally decided on a break and reached for my phone, quickly dialling Justin’s number for a facetime call.

It dialed, and dialled and dialled until….”Yo this is JB. Im probably busy in the studio or performing so just a leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon.” 

“Hey Jay baby. I know your probably busy but I really just wanted to call. Schools been really hectic and I just needed to hear your voice. Call me back as soon as you can. Love you.”

“Hey, Y/N! Can you run down to the store and buy us some beer.”

My head shot over to the door of my room, a sigh escaping my lips. It annoys me that my roommate is too late lazy to go out and do it herself, deciding to disturb my study session instead, but then again, a break and something to get Justin off my mind was definitely well needed.

It was still sun up outside, it being only a few past 2 in the afternoon meaning people were more then likely just finishing there own classes for today. Deciding to leave my phone at home, I swiped up my dorm keys and my wallet, and made my way out of the dormitory.

The walk to the local walmart was short and quite enjoyable. The late summer breeze sang around me, swaying my hair slightly as I strolled down the bustling paths. Students surrounded the entirety of the campus grounds, either chatting or finishing off some work. 

But my mind was set firmly on Justin. Oh how I missed him. 2 weeks ago was the last time we had spoken. 3 months since we had seen each other. It was as if he was only seeming to become busier and busier as purpose tour went on.

And the fact that our relationship is very private worries me slightly. Justin could honestly get away with messing around with a girl if he wanted to. Not that I didn’t trust him. But no one knows about us, so it only makes me more anxious about this whole situation.

As the doors of walmart retracted, allowing me access inside, I quickly dashed over to the alcohol section, grabbing ahold of the cheapest and most affordable box I could find. After a bit of struggle, I had managed to make it over to the register to pay for the beer, only to be suddenly interrupted by a loud yell from outside. 

“OH MY GOD!”

It sounded high pitched and more shocked then anything. My eyes darted towards the windows of the store, peering outside at the scene before me. the Young cashier doing the same. 

All I caught sight of was a black SUV surrounded by a mob of girls. Suspicion drew within me, only one person I know that could cause such commotion running through my head. No, that’s ridiculous. He’s in New Zealand right now, half way across the world!

“Ma’am!” The boy called, it sounded as if he had been trying for my attention for a while. My head whipped back to stare at the boy, eyes wide.

“Sorry?”

“That’ll be 19.99.” He repeated, holding his hand out expectantly.

“Oh.” I mumbled, reaching out to hand the boy a twenty dollar note before grabbing a hold of the heavy box and quickly making my way outside. 

Gliding through the mob of girls was hard, and I tried everything to just ignore the scene and attempt to just get this box home as quick as possible, but the shouts of these girls had me drawn further and further in curiousity, one in particular catching me off guard.

“JUSTIN I LOVE YOU!” 

Justin?! I-It can’t be! can it?

My head immediately whipped around, turning to acknowledge the SUV parked rather close to me. My eyes locked on the tinted window supporting the back seat, squinting slightly as if something in me just knew something. And before I knew it, the door was opening. 

Slowly, but it was opening, a figure finding its way out of the car. Screams had enhances, more girls appearing at the realisation of the pop icon in our campus but out of every girl, his eyes seemed to only be on one. Me.

My eyes watered, tears threatening to spill at sight and the box I was holding immediately slipped from my fingers, a small crack sounding as it impacted the floor. “Justin?” I whispered. 

A smile played at his perfectly plump lips, arms spreading slightly as if to say ‘you guessed it!’

At that moment, Mikey stepped out of the front seat, a bouquet of bright red and white roses, and multiple shopping bags from stores such as Pink, Nike, VS, Lou boutin and Pandora In hand. All topped with a large card sticking out the top of the roses reading ‘To My babygirl, Love Jay baby.’

Instantly smiling at the use of my nickname to him, I looked over into his eyes with a grateful and loving smile.

“I’m right here baby girl.” He mumbled but to me, it was the loudest thing i could hear. Instantly, I pressed my body forward, wasting no time but to jump into his arms. Ignoring all the confused and jealous stares emitting from all around, I pressed my lips against his as he supported me by placing his arms under my ass.

Both arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him to me to intensify the kiss. 

God, I missed his lips so much.

“You’re here.” I mumbled. 

“I’m here.” he repeated. “Right here.”

Wirt's Inferno/Dante's Unknown: Allusions to the Divine Comedy in Over the Garden Wall

Introduction

I must stress that the parallels I draw between Over the Garden Wall and Dante’s Inferno are rather broad as they study the overall themes of the latter in comparison to the occurrences in the former. In my defense, the work that chartered what many consider to be the definitive version of Hell, while undoubtedly a monumental and well-constructed masterpiece of literature, contains several understandable prejudices of the author that are not reflected in the cartoon proper. The primordial spirit of the circles however, the fundamental vices that make the Divine Comedy resonate even centuries later, are incorporated into the narrative as are the broad strokes of Dante’s strange journey through the afterlife.

The Travelers

Wirt

Wirt, like Dante, is a poet and shares several traits with the Italian soldier and occasional politician. One of the most obvious of these besides his enjoyment of prose is his infatuation with a girl he finds to be truly exceptional, Sara. Like Dante, he seems content to appreciate her from afar and like Dante’s Beatrice, Sara inspires Wirt to create art in his poetry and clarinet mixtape. However, this distance he places between him and her is shown to be a source of great unhappiness, and while he does go on a fantastic adventure in the vein of “courtly love” (a concept Dante lionized) that inexplicably gives him an opportunity to tell her his feelings, it’s made clear that just talking with her would’ve saved him a lot of trouble.

Pride is another quality that Wirt and Dante share. Despite his lack of self-esteem, Wirt tries to, with mixed success, lord over the one person he is confident and cruel enough to impose upon: Greg, who he believes to be an immature imbecile. I must call to your attention that a surefire way to be sent to the Inferno is to be in denial of your own wrongdoings. Wirt is the principle reason that he and Greg wound up in the Unknown, but his insistence that he is guiltless and that Greg is at fault is strongly implied to be the major obstacle preventing them from leaving it.

Then there are the realms themselves. Though one of the most popular visions of the Judeo-Christian underworld, Dante’s Inferno was a very personal invention and reflected a multitude of the author’s own interests and beliefs. Similarly, it’s heavily implied in the ninth chapter that the Unknown was constructed out of Wirt’s (and some of Greg’s) experiences and hobbies. Both poets likewise find themselves frequently bemused in their quests, despite the strange lands they are stranded in containing a multitude of things they are familiar with.

On a bittersweet note, Wirt has one immense difference that sets him apart from Dante: Wirt actually succeeded in returning home while Dante spent his later years exiled from his beloved Florence, lamenting his separation from his birthplace.

Beatrice

While the creative talents behind the program have confirmed that Beatrice was named after Dante’s muse and guide in Paradiso, the Beatrice of Over the Garden Wall spends most of the story being the antithesis of her namesake; discouraging what she considers to be frivolous flights of fancy and spending half of the miniseries leading the brothers to ruination rather than salvation. After undergoing a personal journey of her own, her behavior becomes more in line with Dante’s lost love, saving Wirt and even accompanying him during the last part of his eerie pilgrimage.

Greg

Wirt’s Virgil. While more spontaneous and prone to distraction, Greg is something of a poet himself, composing several uplifting songs over the course of the chapters in contrast to his brother’s defeatist lamentations. These improvised tunes being beloved by others and Wirt’s eloquent moanings being ignored (by Greg) or mocked (by Wirt himself) allude to how Virgil and Dante’s poems were regarded during the Divine Comedy respectively. Greg may not have a working knowledge of the Unknown, but his courage and curiosity place him in a better position to engage and resolve the trials the pair face, making him an unorthodox guide to his older and craven sibling. As it was with Virgil, Greg is incapacitated during the final leg of the journey, and Wirt must solve the mystery of the Unknown without him.

The Entrance: Abandon all hope, ye who enter here 

Dante’s quest begins in a forest. In Wirt and Greg’s case, that’s true in more ways than one. As our Narrator kindly reminds us, the Unknown can be entered by those “who travel through the wood”.  This applies to the part of the Unknown they find themselves in initially and the near death experience they shared after almost drowning in a wooded area.

Echoing Dante’s opening plight, Wirt and Greg are pursued by a savage monster. Though Greg’s quick thinking saves their lives, mirroring Virgil’s rescue of Dante from the three beasts chasing him, the altercation destroys the safe haven of the mill, forcing the two of them to travel deeper into the Unknown. Before they go, the Woodsman warns them that the surrounding woods are the home of the Beast, “the death of hope”. However, defying the famous epithet that marks the entrance to the Inferno, he later clarifies that losing hope is about the last thing you want to do in the Unknown as it puts you squarely in the Beast’s clutches.

The First Level: Limbo

Pottsfield is not Limbo itself as the Unknown fits that description better, but it embodies the dilemma that is usually presented to characters that realize they are in Limbo: stay here and be at peace or struggle further in the hopes that you will return home. The passive Wirt is momentarily seduced to choose the first option by how simple and quiet “life” there is and him changing his mind is done more out of being disturbed by the town’s macabre disposition than any real strength of will on his part. Fittingly, as is the fate of those that move past this relatively idyllic portion of hades for deeper zones, this arguably puts him in even greater danger.

Note: The town gets its namesake from a “Potter’s Field”, a type of gravesite for unknown corpses. Conversely, the denizens of Pottsfield all seem to have names, perhaps having regained the identities “lost” during their burial.

The Second Level: Lust

Miss Langtree’s fixation over Jimmy Brown’s supposed infidelity renders her unable to teach. This subsequently renders the sacrifices of her father to keep the school open moot, who in turn accuses Jimmy Brown of “gallivanting”. The two of them are not necessarily bad people, but much like Wirt, they’re too busy moaning about their troubles to fix them. This is made more evident by how Jimmy wasn’t up to any sort of debauchery and was merely working hard to consummate his love for Miss Langtree in the proper fashion. Therefore lust in practice is not the debilitating force here, but the obsession over it.

The Third Level: Gluttony

The patrons and staff of the tavern are people of purpose. Each has their role, their profession, and thus an identity to call their own. All are welcome, even thieves and killers. There is however, one major exception: The Beast. Despite having a “job” of his own and a great singing voice, he is feared and reviled all the same. The innkeeper implies that this is due in part to how the beast lies to get what he wants, in contrast to an “honest” scoundrel like the Highwayman.  

There is also the fact that, unbeknownst to those who fear him, the Beast doesn’t actually “work with his hands” and instead tricks people into acting as his proxies. The metamorphosis into an Edelwood tree, might not even be his own doing. It could just be something that happens to those that fall to despair in the Unknown, a quirk of the land that he exploits so he can keep his lantern fed and even that might be a cruel indulgence. He is not a tradesman, foul or not, he is a parasite. To summarize, the Beast and his lantern are entities of excess as they do not truly earn what they so gratuitously consume.

Note: Something else worth mentioning is how Greg keeps bringing food to his and Wirt’s table to satiate his hunger, but no one, not even his Frog, is ever shown eating any of it.

The Fourth Level: Greed

Quincy Endicott is dead. The tombstone in the Eternal Garden cemetery all but proves that. Thus his and Marguerrite Grey’s fear of one another is simultaneously justified and absurd. Fair enough, but the core theme of this episode doesn’t lie in a Sixth Sense-esque twist, but in the insatiable sinkhole of greed. Quincy is rather frank (while stepping on franks) that his entire life was/has been dedicated to the accumulation of money. He is also quick to tell us that these riches have gone into making his home bigger and in turn, more hollow. Consequently, the tea tycoon is made to feel small and alone in his own house, unable to derive joy from making money as he confesses to despising the beverage he peddles: Indeed, he all but states that he’s done reprehensible things to amass his fortune. He has no one to talk to apart from his peacocks as his estate is devoid of any staff; only opulent furniture keeps him company indoors. The mansion itself is apparently turning on him as well, coming into the possession of new rooms and wings that he can’t recall commissioning that make him feel more lost and confused than ever. There is a glimmer of beauty and hope in this increasingly alien environment when he chances upon a portrait of a beautiful woman, and then things get even worse for him until his “nephews” bail him out. 

The punishment of this circle for those who lived their lives with avarice in their hearts is an eternal jousting match where they are put on one of two sides and “joust” with one another using massive weights. This is expressed in how despite living in the same building, Quincy and Marguerrite have spent an undefined amount of time barely missing one another; locked in a frustrated and chaste dance with no end in sight. For as far as the two of them are concerned, to confront one another directly only has two awful outcomes: the ghost is real, making their love unfeasible or there is no ghost, which would mean that the two of them have gone mad. A line shared by the star-crossed aristocrats when they recognize one another’s names proves that this is all an immense allusion to their situation before they died. They had never met, nor knew what the other looked like. What they did know was that the opposite party was their “business competitor”, a reprehensible entity that dared to get in the way of them gaining a monopoly on tea, a scoundrel that hampered the accumulation of personal wealth. How could they have known that the cure for their loneliness lay in the arms of their respective rivals? And so it was that these two nobles would spend their hereafters haunted by the specter of the love and happiness they deprived themselves of during their mortal existences; architects of a gilded mausoleum. Thankfully, Wirt and Greg help overturn this bedlam and a happy conclusion is reached for Endicott and Grey, who manage to put aside the past animosity that kept them apart while they still had pulses.

Fred is also a creature of greed, a literal horse thief who despite his lack of hands has apparently stolen a great many things before meeting our protagonists. Once he is confronted by the possibility that his kleptomania might get him killed, he swears that he will cease his wrongful purloining and get an honest job. True to his word, he elects to stay behind with Quincy and Grey as “an official tea horse.” In a moment that is up for debate and interpretation, the epilogue has a scene where Marguerrite is staring at a portrait of Quincy and Fred. If this was painted before she and Quincy properly met, mirroring how Quincy fell in love with her image in the painting, then Fred might very well have been Endicott’s steed when they were both alive, adding a sense of irony to the horse unwittingly trying to steal from his former master.

The Fifth Level: Anger and Sorrow

While this circle is primarily associated with Anger, the sullen are punished here as well. They are cursed to eternally drown in the waters of the River Styx, where there is no hope of salvation or joy with the frogs sinking into the mud acting as a visual representation of this. Though the brothers begin the episode with much optimism and mirth, the discovery that their entire quest was a farce causes Wirt’s spirits to sink, dragged down by the betrayal of someone he considered to be his friend. Wirt, as we are soon to find out, doesn’t have many friends. Worse, he is without a guide, and he and Greg are rendered more lost than ever before with no clear goal to work towards.

Anger is expressed in the simple, but understated act of Wirt stealing Adelaide’s scissors, despite having no real use for them himself past cutting the strings, in order to punish Beatrice for deceiving him and Greg.

Note: I would be remiss not to mention the various references to the afterlife in the voyage itself that others have noted in the past. The ferry is Charon’s boat of course, and the two cents acting as the two coins that the morbid boatman usually accepts as his fare. The frogs hibernating in the mud could also be called them taking a “dirt nap”, a colloquialism for being dead and buried.

The Sixth Level: Heresy

Witches and evil spirits are the obvious embodiments of the circle’s theme of heresy, but this episode also has the power of doctrine as a central theme. After all, what is a heretical action without a coda to rebel against? The bell’s hold over Lorna and the Evil Spirit represents the power of instruction. Rules and laws have the capacity to oppress and protect, to enslave or liberate. Auntie Whispers feared Lorna leaving her once she was cured and used the bell to forcefully keep her niece at her side by restraining the spirit, but not exorcising it. Greg had the gumption to use the bell against Lorna, but was too callow to understand how to use it properly. Ultimately it is Wirt, the one usually wracked with indecision and uncertainty that realizes what must be done and does what Whispers was too selfish (and Greg too ignorant) to do.

The Beast is shown to use a doctrine of his own to manipulate the Woodsman. Simple rules: keep the lantern lit and your daughter “lives”. When the Woodsman wonders if there is “a better way”, the Beast is adamant that his word is law and his methods absolute. He is lying of course, but by himself, how can the Woodsman hope to see past the only options presented to him?

The Seventh Level: Violence

A small scale war is waged between the People of Cloud City and the frightfully destructive North Wind. The elemental eventually comes into direct conflict with Greg and the climax of the episode is a battle on two fronts as the blustering bruiser attempts to trounce Greg in his sleep and freeze him outside of it. The boy triumphs with his usual mixture of audaciousness and creativity; of course you can beat a raging storm by stuffing it into a bottle!

Prominent features of this level of the Inferno include a treacherous river located in the outer ring (as represented by the one Wirt and Greg travel on during the chapter’s start, and the one Wirt falls into at its end) and a terrible storm in the inner ring (The North Wind). The middle is what’s most  interesting to people that are familiar with both the Divine Comedy and Over the Garden Wall as it is filled with grotesque trees made from the bodies of those that committed suicide, individuals that gave up on living and surrendered to self-destruction. Wirt is rescued from this terrible (and self-inflicted) transformation by Greg’s sacrifice, but the connection remains rather poignant as it helps build on the idea that the Unknown is a place between life and death.

The Eighth Level: Fraud

Halloween is a day of the dead and a day of disguise. It is a night of imposters and make-believe. What better time to play out the themes of fraud than this? Paradoxically, it is also where a great many truths are revealed alongside a showcase of the many lies that Wirt has invented to exonerate himself from his own cowardice. Among the things we learn is that Wirt and Greg are two American children from the late 20th century, the Garden Wall that the show’s title alludes to was that of a cemetery (named “Eternal Garden”), and that Jason Funderberker isn’t the stud Wirt whines about him being.

Perhaps the greatest display of this episode’s themes lies in Greg and Wirt’s apparel. Greg explains that he wears a tea kettle on his head because he’s pretending to be an elephant. It’s a simple and abstract costume, but one with purpose. Then there’s Wirt’s more elaborate ensemble. When asked what he’s dressed as, Wirt can’t answer the question. He has no idea. The montage of him assembling its components might’ve given him a burst of confidence, but it is ousted as having been utterly nonsensical. That is not to say that Wirt is not masquerading as something. It’s just that he’s disguised as someone who’s wearing a costume: a charlatan’s charlatan.

Counterfeiters and hypocrites rate high (or low, depending on how you look at it) on this plane, and Wirt’s a little bit of both. He wants someone to lead the way and be brave for him, but resents Greg’s aid. His carelessness is what loses him the tape in the first place, which he blames Greg for. Wirt also mistakes his brother’s initiative for recklessness and kneecaps whatever progress Greg’s actions might’ve netted him. Finally, he creates an obtuse narrative that frames Greg and his stepfather as saboteurs due to their insistence that he join marching band. Had he listened, the act might’ve brought him closer to Sara, who he considers lost to him now due to the imagined sabotage. Through reflection, Wirt realizes this and against his usual cowardice, heads out into a brutal blizzard in hopes of saving the brother he disowned and practically drowned. 

The Ninth Level: Treachery

As with any circle, this one closes where it began. It is a chapter of resolution, but also of return. The final act of the production is set in the woods surrounding the Old Grist Mill, the primary location of the first chapter’s happenings now repaired. It is winter, and even those who only have a broad knowledge of Dante’s Inferno know that while the upper levels of that dismal pit may be rife with fire and brimstone, the very bottom is deathly cold.

The Beast is decked out in satanic narrative and visual trappings from across the centuries: the horns, the name, the association with darkness and witchcraft, the predilection for making deals with the desperate and the gullible, and a monstrous reputation that’s justified by the evil he masterminds and commits. He fools his victims into committing worthless and futile acts that serve no higher purpose outside of his personal benefit. Above all else, he is treacherous, a trait that is made distinct from fraud by how it is a betrayal of a more intimate sort. In insincere defiance of his fearsome reputation, he tries to pass himself off as helpful and altruistic; telling the Woodsman, Greg, and Wirt that he’ll help them out if they perform some simple, but essentially idiotic tasks for an indefinite (read: forever) amount of time. Fittingly, it’s Wirt, whose character arc has him learning to stop being a pushover and take responsibility for himself, who sees through the passive-aggressive charade and puts the villain into a corner.

We are given a brief flash of the Beast’s actual appearance, a horrific mass of flesh made up of dozens of anguished faces. His many mouths were a conscious design choice by the creative team to incite feelings of trypophobia (a fear of holes) in viewers with that brief glance, but they’re also symbolic of the circular nature of the Beast. A shadow cannot exist without light; his existence depends on keeping the lantern lit, but he can’t carry it around himself because doing so would reveal to all those he approached that the infamous Beast is nothing more than an abomination built from weakness, a wretch. The Devil of Dante’s Inferno was a fiend with multiple mouths that was comparatively imprisoned by his own wickedness. Over the Garden Wall is rife with characters that are trapped or feel they are trapped (Wirt, Greg, Jimmy Brown, the Langtrees, Quincy, Lorna, etc.), so it’s only fitting that the show’s antagonist is in an inescapable predicament of his own.

The ending of the first part of the Divine Comedy has Dante and Virgil escape Hell by climbing deeper into the earth using Satan’s body. In time, they pass right through the center of the planet and come out the other end. By going down, they eventually came right back up elsewhere. Such is the case with our protagonists as the Beast’s vanquishing facilitates a great many escapes and returns. Wirt returns to consciousness in the water and saves both himself and Greg from drowning; Beatrice, after unintentionally proving her nobility to Wirt, returns to her family with the scissors that will cure them all; the Woodsman reluctantly returns home and to his joy, discovers he was grossly deceived; we get an epilogue of sorts that shows us the secondary characters in states mirroring the ones they were in during the prologue, but mostly altered for the better; and the program ends as it began with the piano playing frog, who reveals (as hinted in the sixth chapter) that he was the narrator all along and might’ve made the whole thing up.

anonymous asked:

Can you make an EXO reaction when you try to speak korean but you mistake a word and the sentence turns out being smuty? Please? Thank you!

Note: This is my first reaction so I have no idea if it’s any good. Also I don’t speak Korean but this looked like fun & I wanted to put examples in there so I’ve done a lot of learning and enlisted @oh-beyond to help me check my translations. Hope you like it :)

Originally posted by jonginssoo

D.O. – He would help you improve your Korean by teaching you words for different foods and things in the kitchen. He’d be cooking you dinner and then he’d point at an object or ingredient and you tried to name it. He would feel so proud of you when you got the right words for object and ingredients he pointed at, the knife “Kal.”, and the chicken “Tak-gogi.” He would be torn between correcting you and laughing when you misspoke because he found it cute and endearing. There was one exception and that was when you misspoke and said something rude. Then he had to either laugh or respond with something ever dirtier, like the time you tried to compliment his cooking and said “Neo gochu joha-hae” and he choked on his drink, his eyes almost bugging out of his head. After he finally stopped laughing he finally explained to you that whilst gochu does mean pepper it’s also slang for penis so you had pretty much told him that you like his penis.

Originally posted by wugalaxy

Kris – He would try to teach you Chinese as well as Korean and when he went into teacher mode he refused to utter a word of English until you worked out the words. He’d take you to China with him when he visited and show you the places he loved and teach you small phrases then laugh as you struggled with the pronunciations. He knew you were still trying to grasp Korean so throwing Mandarin in the mix was just cruel. When you flew back to Korea he’d be the one to pass out in your bed and forget which country he was in. You would try everything to wake him, poke him, shake him, call his name, kiss his forehead and even take the blankets off him but he would refuse to get out of bed until you told him to wake up in the correct language. He wouldn’t respond to Korean or English because he’d still think he was in China until the jetlag wore off. When you whined “Yah! Kris! Jiào chuáng shēng! (to moan during sex)” he’d be awake fast and would roll over and pull you into bed with him. “I think what you mean to say was jiào xǐng (to wake someone up) but I think I need to show you the difference so you learn only to say jiào chuáng shēng around me.”

Originally posted by irpsychotic

Suho - He would constantly correct your Korean and try to come up with fun ways for you to remember how to pronounce things correctly. When you would misspeak he’d let you know what you said wrong and how to fix it in the future. Sometimes you’d have to remind him to take a step back from being a teacher and just be there for you. So sometimes he’d bite his tongue and let you say the wrong thing, but that would be very rare. He’d try to be funny instead of correcting you but when the words you misspoke had a double meaning or could be interpreted in a more adult way he’d flirt with you. It worked like a charm the time he’d taken you out for a walk in a park and you’d commented on the scenery. You’d said “Meosjin dali” meaning nice bridge but the same words also meant nice legs so Suho had turned on the charm and responded with “Yes they are” whilst running his hand down your leg.

Originally posted by mvnghaos

Sehun – He would mess with you and play along with your misspeaking. He loved that you tried to learn and speak more Korean around him but he’d find endless fun teasing you for messing up words or saying something rude unintentionally. He’d sometimes be serious and correct you if you were in public and he’d apologise for you if you were speaking with someone when you messed up but as soon as you were in the privacy of your home he’d laugh and tease you endlessly. He still wasn’t over the time you were in a department store and you asked a storeperson to take you to the mops but you’d said “Geolle delyeoda jwo” which was technically correct but it could also mean ‘take me to the sluts.’ The look the poor store assistant had given you before he shook his head and led you to the cleaning aisle was priceless so Sehun constantly brought it up. “Jagi, why are you looking for sluts? Are you trying to spoil me? It’s not even my birthday yet.” 

Originally posted by princewangeun

Kai – He was the type to forget to correct you because he was too busy laughing at what you’d said. He’d be frozen in place, clutching his sides as he laughed at whatever incorrect words came out of your mouth. If you laughed he’d keep laughing but if you pouted he’d try to calm himself down to explain what you’d said wrong but it would take him a few attempts because he’d keep laughing whenever he tried to explain your mistake to you. There was the time you had tried to tell him about how you’d seen a transformation in him but instead of saying byunsin you’d said byungsin (a very strong swear word for idiot). He’d looked at you, crestfallen while you tried to work out what you’d said wrong. When you finally got him to understand that you had meant a change not whatever you’d actually said he perked up then broke out in a fit of laughter.

Originally posted by zitaoa

Tao – Since Korean wasn’t his first language he’d only be able to correct you occasionally. When he’d lived in Korea he had studied hard and had learned from his own mistakes (That one time when he called Xiumin oppa was embarrassment enough that he was much more careful with his words and pronunciations. When you told him you were trying to learn Korean he’d started to speak more Korean around you even though he was a bit rusty. Most of the time he would encourage you to learn but when you got it wrong he was definitely the guy who would laugh, loudly. When he’d gotten out of the shower one night you tried to use your Korean skills to compliment his body. You had placed your hand on his chest and said “Jjookjookpangpang” when he giggled and shook his head. “No, that isn’t for guys.” He’d pull you close and run his hands down your sides as he spoke. “It’s to compliment a female’s curves. So Y/N, the term applies to you. Now allow me to show you just how much I appreciate your curves.”

Originally posted by fyeah-chanyeol

Chanyeol – The reaction king could not hide it when you said the wrong thing. He would try his hardest to keep a straight face but more often than not he’d drop to the floor in a fit of laughter. If you said the wrong thing in public he’d try to cover for you instead and then he’d take charge of the conversation until it was back on track. He was never prepared for when you misspoke and it was dirty. He’d get flustered and try to form a response but he’d be the one to blush and then he’d avoid telling you what you’d said. You affected him so even though you didn’t mean to say it, his mind went to the gutter when you misspoke like that. Slowly he would flirt back until you worked out that you’d said something dirty instead of what you meant to say. The day you asked him to help you nail something was when he lost it. You had said “Baghida” which was wrong since it meant ‘to be nailed’ but it was a term he associated more with sex than with DIY home repairs as it also meant ‘to be fucked’. He pressed you against the wall and explained exactly how he would nail you.

Originally posted by dazzlingkai

Chen – In public, especially in formal situations he’d look out for you and would cover for you whenever you misspoke or pronounced something incorrectly but in less formal situations or when it was just the two of you he would be an endless tease. Forever cheeky and insinuating something from anything you said incorrectly, no matter how minor. You weren’t safe if the word had more than one meaning as well, even if it was slang that you had no way of knowing. He teased because he cared, and also because he found your reactions hilarious. One night when you’d gotten home from a seafood restaurant you put on a sing song voice and sang “Jongdae jogae joh-ahae!” He knew you were trying to be cute and sing Jongdae likes clams but he was not going to let the double meaning pass. Not when it was this perfect. He pushed you back on the bed and lowered himself between your legs. “Jagi, you are right. I really do like vagina. Let me show you just how much I love it.”

Originally posted by dazzlingkai

Lay – With his sense of humour he’d have some fun with you messing up the language since he does it a lot as well. He’d smile and chuckle at you and sometimes even play dumb about your mistakes. He’d tricked you once into saying Juraji in front of the guys which sent them back into fits of laughter as they remembered how that broke them when they were filming. There would be times when he would misinterpret what you were saying like the time the two of you went camping and you asked “Nan maltagi haeboja?” You’d literally asked if he wanted to try horse riding but because he lived with a group of testosterone filled guys he only knew the slang for that term so he thought you’d asked if he’d like to try with you being on top. He rolled you over so that you were straddling him before he responded with “Nan maltagi joahae.”  You’d work out what you’d said wrong later.

Originally posted by meiren-menglu

Luhan – Even though Korean is not his first language he had a better grasp on it that the other Chinese members. He’d send you off to his tutor and help you out when he could. He’d watch as the others laughed when you got something wrong and he’d laugh if it was a really funny misspeak but mos of the time he’d just let you know that you’d gotten it wrong and patiently wait while you tried to figure it out before he helped you. When you accidentally swore he’d scold you and tell you his lady shouldn’t swear in public. There was the time he’d taken you to a restaurant and he asked you which dish you wanted. You replied with “Ssibal” while pointing at number 18 and the look on his face was priceless. He apologised to the server and correctly ordered “Sipal.” He groaned and then scolded you for swearing at the server, reminding you just how important pronunciation was. When you’d gotten home he’d wandered off to his studio to work and after a couple of hours you entered and asked “Neoji spotsi eohdiya? (What are you doing?)” He knew what you meant but he felt like teaching you a lesson since you’d misspoken a lot today. He smirked and pulled you down to his lap “Jagi, why don’t I remind you where yours is instead then maybe you’ll work out what you just asked me?”

Originally posted by ethereal-baek

Baekhyun – The wordiest member of the group would find your misspeaking adorable and hilarious. He’d make up words to teach you just to mess with the members. He would earnestly try to correct you and teach you once he’d stopped laughing but he’d start to mess with you once he got bored. Euphemism king that he is he’d exaggerate whenever you said anything with a double meaning or a slang meaning. He would watch as you got frustrated over your fumbling of the language and he’d try to cheer you up with simple word play. Every now and again you’d render him speechless when you said something that had much dirtier connotations. There was a day when you’d struggled so much with speaking that you blurted out at him “Aish, ibeulo haejwo! (I need your mouth)” Baekhyun tried so hard to keep his face neutral as he worked out where you went wrong since you’d basically just yelled ‘go down on me’ at him. Eventually he figured out that you meant you needed his linguistic abilities but his mind was definitely elsewhere as he licked his lips and dragged you to his room.

Originally posted by xiumined-and-minseoking

Xiumin - He would act serious in public, the perfect gentleman. He would apologise profusely to whoever you were talking to when you misspoke and explain that you were still learning. For the most part the two of you had a system when you were in public so that you refrained from giving him a small heart attack by unintentionally saying something rude. It was a completely different story when it was just the two of you though. Away from the public he would smirk and act out whatever phrase you said to show you when your words would be appropriate to use. You had picked up on this game pretty quickly but he always held the upper hand. He made sure you knew what tone to use when saying “Bballi bballi hae” or “ssege hae” He’d enjoyed showing you the results of accidentally implying you wanted him to do it faster and harder. That resulted in you not being able to walk properly the next day. His favourite one of your slip ups so far had to be “Nan eolgurae ssaneungirl joahae*.” He’d pushed you down on your knees and told you “Sweet girl, that is not the correct way to ask for a face to face talk. I’m going to show you what you told me you liked instead.” Then he unzipped his pants.

*it’s a slang term for I like cumming on the face.

A thing I'm working on...

Vampire Billdip Au. (With evolved Vampires of course.) I don’t believe this has been done really, “evolved vampires”, so credit me if you use the idea, (unless I’m wrong, in which case apologies, more notes on what “evolved vampire” entails at the end) but not this story idea itself! This is something i have in the works and will publish on AO3 before the end of May.

Vamp Hunter Dip goes on a hunting spree to track down the vampire that stole his sister, he’s gone to 5 different territories before he enters Bill’s. He doesn’t care about what happens to himself, he only wants to find Mabel before time runs out. Because the other vampires were so easy to off, he thinks Bill will be the same, before even realizing who he’s up against.

A trap is set by Bill to lure the threat (Dipper) in, being the unofficial head of the vampires. He likes what he sees, and smells. Dipper is scented sweeter than anything and stronger than pine needles, his chocolate curls frame a strong jaw and hazel eyes. Bill definitely enjoys the view and decides to play along for awhile/ toying with him at first. “If you don’t have Mabel, then why are you wasting my time?” (Dipper)

“This is estate does isn’t mine it belongs to my brother, and I’m afraid you’ve intruded, therefore you are my business, so you might as well indulge me. I haven’t decided yet what to do with you.” Bill corners him, but Dipper pulls out a stake.

No, Bill’s not disappointed at all. However, he takes advantage of the other’s confidence to turn the tables and make it clear that Dipper won’t make it out without a few puncture wounds.


Dipper refuses, attempting to fight him off, “Don’t you dare you bastard! I have to find my sister, your bloodlust is going to have to be kept in check/ put on hold.”

Bill chuckles, “Like you would agree to a rain check-” he stops, eyes glinting in mischief and curiosity/ mirth. “Oh… Pine Tree~? No one ever wants to be bitten by a vampire… but all you can say for yourself/ plead for your case is your silly goose chase for this… sister of yours. What if I can help you/ offer my assistance?”

“What are you implying?”

Bill hums and cups Dippers cheek fondly, with an all (too) friendly/ toothy smile/ grin. “Nothing you should be averse to… It’s just that/ You see, I’m kind of a big deal to / as unofficial as my title may be, for all intents and purposes the majority of my kin answer to me. I could make the job of finding your sister a lot easier if I saw something worth my while in it.”

“And you already have an idea of what that is, don’t you?” Bill makes no move to agree nor deny the accusation, all the answer Dipper needs, but he wishes Bill would stop tracing his finger a long his jaw. Bill obviously wants him to keep asking questions, might as well play along while they’re at each other’s throats, so to speak. “What is it you want for helping me?” There are no words to express how much Dipper wanted to smack the smirk from his face.

“If you help me with the few rogues of my kind, you’ve had no qualms killing my friends, so do this and I’ll call us even and I won’t tear at your throat/ that pretty throat of yours now.”

Dipper licks his dry lips, “O-okay… i don’t see how that applies to-”

“I wasn’t finished, I will help you find her, but when we find her captor, I want you.”

“You want me to…. what?”

Bill rolls his eyes, impatiently, “My dear, doe eyed temptress… I don’t want you to do anything but comply when the time comes and I introduce you to vampire society. I think that’s fair, return one human to your homeland, and take another to replace it.”

“No! That’s ridiculous! Why would I-? You’d only find some way to trick me into agreeing to whatever you have in mind, no! I won’t!”

Bill growls and moves his face closer to Dipper’s despite the stake pointed at his chest beginning to poke at him. “Dipper Pines, I’m afraid you have no choice. Either we both die here and you never see your precious Mabel again, much less safe at home, or we both live to see another day and you can carry on your search with an ally before you have to say your farewells. Even if you were to somehow manage to kill me first/ without killing yourself, going from vampire to vampire on this blind little escapade of yours is suicide. You’ve offed no one but my lackeys and I’ve underestimated you, so the stalemate we’re in now? Once word gets out that I’m no more? The Vampire hunter will become the vampire hunted.”

Dipper knows he’s telling the truth, but he can’t… can’t listen to him. “You’re lying, I know… as soon as I remove this stake from your chest you’re going to make your move and kill me.”

Bill raised his eyebrow, “Kid… Kill you? Do give me some credit, if i truly wanted that fate for you, I would not have given you enough opportunity to get me in such a compromising position as to make a deal with you. No, I don’t want to kill you. I want to turn you, to claim you… so, is it a deal? I help you, you help me and then we both get what we want when your sister is found?”

Dipper bit his lip, what choice did he have anyway? This was the best he could ask for given their… situation, he shifted his feet a bit, making both of them tense, but neither made a move against the other. “So how do you usually commence/ consummate/ seal your deals? A handshake or…?”a

“a blood oath sounds nice, and I’ve always want to try one.”

“uhhaha no. Not a chance/ nice try. Not happening, nope.”

Bills pout doesn’t last long before a hopeful expression crosses his features as another idea comes to him, “How about a kiss?”

Dipper’s face is a blank slate/ smacks Bill “no.”

Bill rubs at his reddening cheek, “Well, not exactly what I had in mind…”

Bill shrugs and they shake hands, Bill kissing Dip’s before letting go, the brunette snatches his hand back and glares despite his reddening ears and face, further encouraging the vampire.

“Oh, and Dipper? I can still bite you, you know, and not turn you or kill you… so I’d watch your neck,” he says this with a hot breath by his ear, before pulling back with a wink and letting Dipper rest in his home before they head out. It’s almost dawn, and they both work at night, ironically enough, he might as well stay and rest up for the night. (Is it his own castle? If it is, he has his staff prepare a meal for Dipper and wine for himself, having a reputation as a wealthy aristocrat as well as head vamp. / it’s an abandoned one and he offers dip a ride, or Dipper just falls asleep either way, he ends up locked in the room he stays in because Bill doesn’t want him running away or snooping about or doing some other unreasonable/ irrational/ brash/ reckless thing that could get him hurt/ he could do to hurt himself. He is to be his intended after all. Can’t risk a hair on his pretty little head.

Dipper glares when he tells him as much, “Not yours (to claim), at least not yet, not until Mabel is found”

“of course not./ wouldn’t dream of it. I am, after all, a gentleman.”

“could have surprised me, Cipher.”

Bill reigns offense, “I am truly wounded by your lack of trust!”

((((Vamps are still warm blooded and alive, not undead, having evolved over time, some can even consume human foods, but it’s not the same, some only feed off of blood. Bill can live off of both, which helps him control his urges and keep his composure, despite being of an old, pure, proud and strong family line. He tends to use it to his full advantage and it unsettled some others. Bill likes the taste, the fear and the thrill of hunting, but… he can control himself, which is why he is often overlooked. (How does Dipper find him?) Vamps are still very sensitive to the sun, so Bill has a parasol, gloves and a hat at all times. Or he wears a veil during others. Bill is just weaker during the day and prone to serious heat exposure from just under an hour of being out on a sunny day. Any more and he could die of heat exposure. Bill doesn’t let on at first, but Dipper is an observant owl )))

[If u want updates on this story via Tumblr, msg me or comment “Pineapple” so I know you want to be bothered with a heads up. I also have the first chapter for the story, not the one shot and some additional info somewhere on my page… I’m too tired to add a link just yet.]
Challenge Fic: Summer Berry

@txf-fic-chicks challenge for Post Episode/ Missing Scene

Rating: Teen

Summary: Missing scene for Wetwired. “He wonders if it’s possible to be jealous of a tube of lipstick.”

Notes: one-shot, no beta. Not my usual style and I’m unsure of how I feel about it. Went in a completely different direction than I had intended.

—-

“Is she okay?” one of the Gunmen asks, but Mulder can’t determine which one as his heartbeat drums loudly in his ears.

“No…they uh…they need me to come and identify the body.”

He can’t feel his legs as he descends the steps of the gunmen’s lair, but he knows he’s moving because the bottom of his shoes click against the dirt-tattooed cement steps as he makes his way out to his car. He slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine, peeling away from the curb and nearly taking out another sedan in the process, possibly even killing someone. Just add it to his tab. Another life. Another victim caught cruelly in the webbed trap of Fox Mulder.

When he tastes the bitter iron of blood he realizes that he’s been biting his lip ever since he left the Gunmen. He reaches across the console to the glove compartment, hoping to find something to keep his teeth busy, keep his jaw from permanently locking into place as he grinds his molars with each red light that stands between him and identifying the dead body of his partner.

He rifles through the cluttered mess: a map, napkins, assorted ketchup and hot sauce packets, a condom packet (from the Regan administration no doubt), lipstick, sunflower seeds…

Lipstick.

Tossing the seeds to the passenger seat, he fingers the textured metal of the silver cosmetics case, feeling his stomach churn with each twist of the tube between his fingers. She’d left it there by accident, and it had been a fluke he even found it. Well, he didn’t find it, the guy at the car wash did. Fallen out of her purse and rolled under the seat, most likely.

“Su esposa? Your wife’s?” the attendant had asked, and Mulder chuckled with a shake of his head in the negative.

“No. Not my wife,” he’d said, sounding far too whimsical for his own liking, but the older man had simply winked at him, handing him the lipstick.

“Special lady then,” he’d said, his brown eyes twinkling with wisdom only age could bring.

“Very,” had been his reply, surprising even him at his outright honesty.

He twists the lid from the case, watching the color emerge from inside. How many times has he watched her apply it, pretending to ignore the feminine rituals she’d performed riding shotgun next to him for the last three years? She even had a system: pencil the edges, press lips together, twist lipstick tube, rotate tube till desired tip is facing appropriate direction, one small swipe down the middle, left swipe, right swipe, long swipe along button lip, press together, purse, eye critically, repeat and reapply where necessary…

In his mind, her movements are slow and deliberate. Her tongue darts out and wets her bare lips before the color is applied, and her teeth graze the inside of her bottom lip as she examines her work in the yellow light of the small mirror. How many times has this tube passed across her lips? How many times has her tongue tasted the waxy perfume? His cock stirs in his pants, and he wonders if it’s possible to be jealous of a tube of lipstick.

The highway is remarkably clear of traffic. Not that a few cars would stop him from his distracted reverie. So what if he killed himself on the way to the county morgue? Maybe they’d put him in a drawer next to Scully. It’s probably a good thing he’s holding the lipstick, he imagines – it’s keeping his hands busy.

If his hands are busy, there’s less of a likelihood of him using his hands for other purposes like erratic steering, shaving while driving, flipping off the minivan going 50 in a 65 zone…suicide.

He blames it on curiosity when he swipes his thumb across the creamy tip of the lipstick, staining his thumb with the deep raspberry hue. It’s softer then he imagined it would be, gliding effortlessly along the warm pad of his thumb. Does it feel like this when she wears it, he wonders? Are her lips as smooth, as ripe as the Summer Berry namesake it bears?

On impulse, he brings his thumb to his mouth, letting it linger against his bottom lip.

Will her lips be the same Summer Berry color he’s grown accustomed to seeing when he identifies her body? Or will her lips be the mottled blue of death, forever frozen in a shape of horror?

Tears blur his vision as he drives down the highway, thumb pressed against lips. What a fucking vision he must be to the other drivers, some crying asshole with his thumb in his mouth.

He’d be lying if he said he’s never thought about kissing her. Maleness aside, Dana Scully has a mouth meant to be kissed, if not in its delicious fullness, then to shut her up at the very least, and it’s only when he sees the County building ahead does he realize that this is the closest he’ll ever come to kissing her– nothing more than a lipstick stain on his finger. His reflection mocks him from the shiny silver tube in his hand.

You selfish bastard. This is all your fault.

@marami38: If you’re still taking prompts for this weekend I think it would be fun to see them in the future.  Maybe it’s their 20th or 25th wedding anniversary and they’re getting ready for a family gathering at the pub. Talking and reminiscing about some of their happiest moments and remembering some of their worst moments and how eventually it was the worse moments that helped make them even stronger.

On a side note, I just wanted to say how much I LOVE your work and A Different Kind of Love is one of my faves, as a matter of fact I think I might just re-read that this weekend :)


first of all, thank you so much for your lovely words about ‘a different kind of love’ and second of all i am so sorry that it’s taken so long for me to get to writing this for you. it’s by no means amazing but i enjoyed looking at robron this way and writing them in the future like this, hope you enjoy it <3




Robert’s tie is crooked and he’s trying to put it right, failing a little and then he feels his husband’s presence in the room almost immediately. 


He hears Aaron let out a little tut and then he’s walking towards him. 


“You and your flipping ties.” Aaron says, comes closer and then he’s fixing the tie that Robert’s knotted foolishly in his haste. 


Robert looks up at him and Aaron smirks at his husband. Robert’s heart flutters as he looks at the man he loves more than anyone in the world. 


After all this time. Still. Still I get butterflies when I look at you.‘ 


“What ya looking at?” Aaron urges, finishing with the tie and then looking up at Robert. He’s aged so well, his eyes are still so green and bright despite the wrinkles around them, around his mouth too. He’s paler too, slower in his movements but it’s understandable after they all realised that his lungs were acting up, an aftershock of the shooting all those years ago that caused lasting damage. 


Robert’s eyes flutter a little, freckles still scattered across his face as he ducks his head and looks at Aaron. His Aaron, that still remains, after everything. He’s shorter, wispy grey curls, lines on his forehead but God he’s so beautiful, he’s still so beautiful.


“You.” Robert shrugs before grabbing Aaron by the waist and kissing his neck. It still works. It still makes Aaron almost melt into his arms and roll his head back, laughter filling the room. 


“We need to go downstairs.” Aaron whispers, close and warm and right into Robert’s ear. “We’ve got a whole party waiting down there.” He says, feels the need to smile as he speaks, as he thinks about their family downstairs, balloons everywhere, catering courtesy of April and Marlon. 


“Let’s tell them to go home.” Robert moans, he’s such a kid and Aaron has to slap at his chest lightly. 


“It’s our anniversary.” Aaron says, pretending to be annoyed and then Robert winces a little at the slight pressure applied to his chest by Aaron. “Sorry, did I hurt ya?” Aaron’s voice is dangerously worried and Robert presses a kiss to Aaron’s lips. 


“Just getting on a bit aren’t I.” Robert’s reminded as Aaron strokes his arm playfully. 


“Good thing I’m still interested in ya then eh.” Aaron’s good at this now, so good at making Robert not feel like shit for getting older, for getting past it like Liv likes to tease him about.


Robert’s eyes are all watery suddenly and Aaron frowns. “What’s wrong?” He says softly. “Rob?” He adds, feels worry race through him.


Twenty five years.” Robert whispers, he can’t believe it. He can’t believe that their lives have flashed before his eyes and now he’s standing here, dressed in a suit and tie, with his family all downstairs ready to celebrate such a milestone. "I didn’t think we’d get here.“ He admits.

Aaron’s eyes go all soft. “I did.” He says. “I always knew you’d be the one for me, that you’d end up just being it for me.“ 


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