short-story-excerpt

Anybody else got like,, rlly random connections to famous ppl?? Like my older brothers were friends w Jennifer Lawrence when they were like 12 and I just found out I’m friends w the cousin of the girl who voiced honey lemon in big hero six like, idk what I’m supposed to do with either of these tid bits I feel like I was supposed to live my life in ignorance of them

Time brought our hearts together where mountains witness—
how—the sun rises,
and how oceans feel when it sets.
Series of paths—
where—our feet crossed,
to the place our minds seemed
peaceful and lost.
Your hands tightly holding mine,
as I keep to look forward
of what was beyond.
Darling, I beg you not to lose hope,
for this climb is much wonderful
to be taken as an adventure.
Breathe the air that I breathe
and wait for the moon to watch—
how—our souls bloom.
The night sky will show us its stars,
as we lay down in silence
with love in our eyes.
—  ma.c.a // Sunrise and Sunset, Remind Me of You

the collection [story op. 2] ♡ essay ver.
on … “blinking game” / source: sullaem

shall we talk about something dirty?

guess what i think is the most explicit type of skinship?

answer: it’s eye contact!

then guess what i think is the sexist genre of music?

answer: it’s jazz!

a meeting of the two, full of power struggle and playfulness. it’s so erotic that i can’t listen to this song anymore. i’m embarrassed.

[translator’s note: the word he used to say “explicit” means something in the sense of being frank, open and direct. it doesn’t necessarily refer to something sexual, but it can (and does, in this case). the lyrics to “blinking game” can be read here.]

it has been announced that, starting on may 15th, instiz will be excluding monkey3, olleh and soribada from being counted on the instiz ichart. these are regarded as the three least popular digital streaming sites in south korea. the only digital charts that will have their realtime rankings counted on the chart from that point onward will be: bugs, genie, melon, mnet and naver. there will also be a new score advantage that will be calculated from rankings on naver.

for those not familiar with what the instiz ichart is or how it works: it is a realtime accumulation of the digital rankings from all active streaming sites in south korea. points are distributed between the rankings that a song has on every chart and added up to place them on the overall combined chart - in realtime, daily, weekly, monthly, etc. format. it is the chart where all kill’s are confirmed / determined. this will, possibly, make it easier for artists to achieve all kill’s. (source)

Hand to Hand

A/N: Bucky is teaching you hand to hand combat when uh….things get interesting.

“Doll, keep your hands up. Parallel to each other like I’ve showed you.” I do as he commands and he gives a nod of approval. “Excellent, now I’m going to reach out and I want you to block my hit.”

“Okay.” I nod.

“On the count of three…one…”

His hand propels forward and I screamed out. “You said on the count of three not one.”

“Predict your opponent’s move.”

I reach out with a jab and he blocks it effortlessly, using that moment to tap me in my ribs. “You’re leaving your body unprotected.”

I sweep a hand in front of my stomach and he taps me on the neck. I grunt, propelling forward my punch landing on his rib, which was a mass of muscle. “Good girl.”

I smiled thinking of the only other time he calls me a good girl, which doesn’t involve clothing.

He taps me in the stomach again. “What the hell, that hurts.”

“Pay attention.”

“I am.” I say defensively as he blocked my punch. “Why do I need to do this?”

“You need to learn how to protect yourself.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why when I have a deadly assassin for a boyfriend.”

He exhales deeply. “I’m no longer an assassin.” He replies tersely. “What if you find yourself in a situation when I’m off on a mission? What will you do then?”

He doesn’t give me any warning before he lunges forward and I stumbled backwards.

“I won’t need to learn hand to hand combat if I had a gun or a knife.”


“Is that so?”

I nod.


He reaches from behind revealing a sleek black knife with a serrated edge and intricate symbols on the blade. “Where the hell did that come from?” I asked looking puzzled.

“Doll, I have five weapons on my person as we speak.“He states, slipping the sheath in his pants pocket.

"Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Where?” I asked, My eyes darting to different parts of his body.

He ignores me. He holds the knife in his palm. “If you can grab this knife from my hand, not only will I give it to you, but I’ll teach you how to use it.”

I lunge forward, but his palm closes. “You’ll have to be faster than that.”

“You have an unfair advantage.”

We both look at his arm. “My arm? Are you serious?” I nod. “Fine.”

He puts his left arm behind his back then opens the palm of his right hand, dangling the knife skillfully in front of me. I take a step forward and the knife disappears out of sight. I used this moment to hit him in the chest.


“You’re leaving your body unprotected.” I teased.


The next actions happened so quickly, I don’t know if I should be impressed, frightened or turned on. He tosses the knife up in the air, sweeps my legs from beneath me in one swift movement, his left arm cradles my fall as we both hit the floor and in another split second he catches the knife without looking and stabs it into the space above my head.


“Your pupils are dilated.” He observes.


I wonder if he could hear my heart palpitations as my heart raced abnormally in my chest. The vibration of my pulse in my veins pounded loudly in my ears as I became aware of our bodies, mainly the throbbing pressed into my hip.


“Is that one of the five weapons you have on your person.” I say all breathy.

He bites his bottom lip and smirked, leaning his face next to my ear. “No, this weapon is not like the others.”


“How so?” I asked inhaling deeply, fully aware of the movements of my body and how with every inhalation his limbs sinks deeper into my own.


He paused, gazing intently at my parted lips sucking in air that was tinged with my lust and his sweat.


“This weapon is dangerous when provoked.” He threatens. His cerulean eyes becoming volcanic as I felt the explosion of heat radiating out of my apex and the noticeable growth and hardening of his throb.

“Bucky.” I breathed as his tongue grazed my bottom lip..


He pins my wrists above my hand that scrapes the serrated knife and presses his full weight on top of me as he spread my legs with his knee.

vimeo

Parts of a 15 day trek up Everest condensed into under 2 minutes. My goodness those mountain views are majestic

Many men tend to ask me, “Why do you care about how you look?”

I don’t mean to offend you males but I don’t think you guys understand how hard it is to be a woman in this society. If you do understand, then props to you, but I’m asking you all to just listen to what I have to say. You guys believe that we women tend to overcomplicate everything, whether it applies to relationships, friendships, or appearances. This is extremely true but only because we have to care about how we look and how we handle situations. It’s very easy to say “be unique” or “dress the way you want to dress” but you don’t tend to fully understand how damn impossible that is. We have to wear clothes that show the right amount of skin but not too much otherwise we’re known as sluts, whores, ugly, or even fat. It doesn’t matter if this is completely false, those labels will stick with us no matter how hard we try to dispose of them. We wear makeup because our natural faces are considered hideous, and no matter how many times you say we’re beautiful the way we are, we feel as if we aren’t. It seems like women are in constant competition with each other trying to prove who can fit in the best or who’s the prettiest, and while there are millions of women who are supportive, deep inside, we’re just a bit jealous. I can’t even explain how many women strive for bigger boobs and butts because we’re looked down upon for not being “thick” enough. We’ve fought so damn hard for equality and we’re still waiting for that day but it’s become so impossible because you guys keep craving more than we can ever give! Do you see children these days? Little girls lean towards makeup to try to be pretty! Yeah, it’s kind of fun to dress up, but that’s no longer the case. It honestly feels like women were only created to please men and the thought of that makes me sick to my stomach. Year by year, the standards keep piling on and on and on. It’s become so hard to keep up. Every year, more women are starving themselves, cutting themselves, killing themselves! I am aware that you men suffer through the same problems as we do and I am aware that this is coming to be a bit sexist of me, but I’m just so tired of having men ask me why I care about my appearance. The definition of “slut” and “whore” used to be a woman who slept with countless men. It then shifted to a woman who showed “too much” skin, but now, the definition has turned into a woman who has made a mistake. Not even a mistake, I can’t even describe the definition. Women who fall for somebody’s partner are considered sluts. Women who just like a simple photo of someone’s partner are considered sluts. Women who wear too much makeup (more so at a young age) are considered sluts. Women who are wearing clothes that show cleavage are considered as sluts. Now, this does not apply to all women. It applies to women who aren’t popular or women who don’t “fit in”. Maybe this doesn’t apply everywhere, but it definitely applies to where I live. This isn’t really your fault… I guess this is just how the world works. Anytime you men see a beautiful woman, that’s all you really see. You don’t see the pain it took to achieve that kind of beauty. The hours it took to perfect the makeup, the hours it took to put together the outfit. We really have come a long way and I’m so proud of the women who no longer care about the calories they consume or how they look, but the amount of women who are affected by society’s standards vastly outweigh those who aren’t. I fear to see what standards come next and what our future daughters and granddaughters will have to endure. I’m praying that it will get easier, but I don’t think it ever will. So if you have read this far, remember what I said before you ask a woman why they care about how they look. It’s not because we want to, but because we have to. There are so many of other things that I did not mention, far more painful things, but this seems to be the most common one.

Like I said, this has come to be a bit sexist of me. I know that some men go through these hardships too. Maybe you guys have it just as bad. We all hide our fears of society and its standards. I fail to understand why we have created these complications for another. Aren’t you tired of living this way?

—  To all the men out there who ask us women, “Why do you care about how you look?”

Imagine:
It’s a minor war but Gabriel still goes while Sam stays behind cause he’s a police officer or something. Gabriel doesn’t end up on the battle field in trenches, he reaches for the sky and becomes one of the best pilots anyone has seen.

Some men had photos of their wives with them, Gabriel had a photo of him and Sam safely tucked in his shirt pocket. Before a flight, he takes that photo out and promises he’ll come home.

Gabriel is also the type to think the letter are too overrated and instead, he sends Sam drawings. Drawings of beautiful villages Gabriel flys over, drawings of planes and birds, sometimes flowers and one time it was a drawing of Gabriel. It was the day the blonde almost died and he thought this was it, he returned to the base laying on Death’s door. So he quickly drew himself with a rose and a note at the bottom. “I love you more that the skies I danced in”

When Sam gets it later, he immediately grabs some paper. He isn’t as great as Gabriel but soon he’s sending a letter to the base which falls into Gabriel’s hands. Unfolding it, Gabriel laughs at the words on the paper with a drawing of Sam next to it.

“Come home to dance with me before the tango with Death.”

I was so worried about the future. I wish I had realized sooner that it didn’t matter where we ended up, so long as we got there together.
—  from an unfinished story #774
It makes my skin crawl when I think of every time you’ve had the stomach to lie to me, to smile in between my lips and laugh in my ear when you’ve done the same to someone else. I feel my heart sink to the floor, I hear it rip every organ on the way down. How many times have I told you to tell me exactly what happened? Whose hands went where? Who sent who pictures? Who touched who first? The wave of pain that I still feel simmers for weeks, months even; and only when it finally feels like my world is in place, the slightest tremor, the slightest shake, dismantles the whole thing. It dismantles me.

It started off with confusion and then I slowly started to put it together. I took it in piece by piece knowing that I’d burst with resentment eventually. I looked at you with a smirk on my face because I was too hell-bent on retaining my pride but my eyes were too wet to see through.
And then came the rage.
And then came the sadness.
And then came knowing that this might be the last time we would ever be this way. Suddenly I wanted to feel every part of you again just once more; partly to show you what you would lose and what you traded our years for, and partly to have something to hold on to when ‘we’ become nothing more than a fleeting thought.
You know, maybe you are my karma. But I promise to be yours, too.
—  Karma // n.b.