trivial details

Sex Worker's Guide to protecting your Identity

Recently, a fellow sugar baby contacted me for help because one of her SD’s ended up being a jealous stalker; obtaining all of her personal info as blackmail. This spurred me to write out this condensed guide to prevent situations like that one or similar ones from happening again.

1) ALWAYS use a fake name, one that’s not similar to your actual name.

2) DON’T carry any forms of ID’s/cards/anything with your name on it when you see a client, ever. Buy a fake license ID with another name so you can still have an ID to show if you get carded to drink when you’re with a sugar daddy. It is illegal to carry certain states fake ID’s, so be careful of which you buy and don’t bring it for an escorting client.

3) NEVER park your car where they can see it or in an area where you need their remote or key access to leave the garage.

4) USE DIFFERENT PICTURES than the ones you use on your personal social media. It takes one search on Google reverse image search to blow open your entire front.

5) Have a fake birthday for your SW persona and remember the astrology sign it comes with.

6) Turn off ALL location services and apps, 10 minutes prior to meeting. I’ve been reading some girls have been outted due to certain social media apps now sharing “who’s around you” features.

7) Don’t give out what school or company you work for. Always lie, and tweak it. The point is to throw off their scent so they have a bunch of small lies they can’t piece together.

8) If possible, use a nickname or an ambiguous name on your own personal social media.

9) DO NOT SEND/SELL ANY PHOTOS OR VIDEOS WITH YOUR FACE IN IT. The only facial ones they should be able to access are the ones online that you can easily claim were stolen.

10) USE A WORK NUMBER. Your personal number is attached to a million and one things.

11) Cash is your best friend.

List of information about yourself to fib:
Company you work for
Schools you have attended in the past
Year of graduation
Any information pertaining family members

IMPORTANT: Stalkers have an affinity for remembering what seems like trivial (but important) details to piece together your identity later.

Yana’s twitter posts about Elizabeth (2017/01/24)

English translation:

It’s hard to make an effort and keep being the ‘lovely person someone wants you to be’. No one really wants to be stripped off of all their equipment and reveal their vulnerable part that remained at the end.

If someone told you to fight zombies - in underwear and with your set hair totally rumpled - in front of the person you love the most, it’d be totally devastating. That’s why back when I drew that scene, I kept in mind to draw her in a way that at least the readers would find cute. Considering the manga takes place in the Victorian era, the way Lizzie is dressed [in the Campania arc] can be compared to [modern women] wearing only their bra and underwear.

It’s such a trivial detail but since Ciel is smaller than Lizzie, she can’t button the jacket she borrowed from him. However, she keeps wearing it until the very end because the boy she’s in love with lent it to her. I think it’s typical of boys at his [Ciel’s] age to try to do something cool but be unable to really pull it off.


♡Proofread by lovely @minacchin♡ (Thank you so much for your great help!)


I’m understandably persnickety about this issue.

People using “OCD” to mean “overparticular about trivial details” just doesn’t make any sense. Like, why do mental illnesses get used as synonyms for shit that neurotypical do? Someone acts a little wild, they’re called “psycho.” People act a little particular, they say “LOL I’m kinda OCD.” No, no you’re not. Unless you actually have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder you shouldn’t use OCD as an adjective.

We don’t see this kind of thing with other illnesses. If you were a bit tired, you wouldn’t say you were feeling “cancery.” You wouldn’t casually describe yourself as having mononucleosis if you were a little sleepy, unless you actually thought you had it. You hopefully wouldn’t say you had ebola if you were prone to nosebleeds. So why do people think it’s okay to do that with mental illness? Do they not realize they’re basically turning these conditions into a joke?

It’s not like there aren’t any words already in English that don’t already mean “overparticular about trivial details.” To everyone using “OCD” as an adjective, allow me to introduce you to a cool alternative, a word that means what you actually meant without being ableist:

per•snick•et•y (pər-snĭkˈĭ-tē)►
adj. Overparticular about trivial details; fastidious.
adj. Requiring strict attention to detail; demanding: a persnickety job.

If you don’t like that one, nor “fastidious,” here are some more alternatives:

stickling (and a person guilty of this is a stickler) [stickle being the verb form]

close but slightly off:

fussbudgety / a fussbudget

There were a whole bunch more I wasn’t in the mood to look up to add to the post.

If you *do* actually have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, I would apologize, except then you’d understand why I was saying all this.

I guess I’m just persnickety about insisting people use proper, non-ableist language.

Lolll. When Caryl actually does go canon and it’s everything we’ve ever hoped for, people are still gonna find something to complain about and then ruin it for other people.

Don’t believe me? Just wait, it’ll happen, I promise.

Hail Mary, Part VII

Premise: What if Jamie and Claire had 1) been more openly affectionate in those early days, and 2) not *had* to get married?

Part I  Part II  Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Hail Mary: Part VII

“No, no, no, wait, hold—HOLD ON—” I wheezed, laughing so hard I could feel tears forming. “I WILL get this right, damn it!”

I could feel him shaking with laughter (his AND mine) his head bobbing like a cork on my lap. “Sixth time’ll do it, aye?” 

“FIFTH, you ginger arse!”

We were heaped on a pallet of old blankets and feather mattresses in a garrett alcove high in the castle eaves, the kind of place where odds and ends tended to get thrown and then forgotten; the kind of place two lovers could easily be forgotten, too.

Lovers. I still couldn’t believe it, any of it: the pain and aching of the weeks of silence between us; then that furious night in his room—the fury of his pain, the agony and release of my revelations, the exquisite joy of taking him into my arms and knowing all was well. This man, strong and kind, gentle and deadly in one, still loved me, and he wanted to spend his life with me. I ached now from happiness, from the unreasonable perfection of the life that I’d been granted; ached with happiness that there was now utter truth between us, nothing held back. Not even silliness.

“Alright, ALRIGHT, here goes.” I took a deep breath, my lips still quivering with laugher, and looked him in the eye, ticking off each word on my fingers. “JAMES….”

“Aye,” he grinned, blue eyes sparkling, “ye’ve got that one well down.”  

I stuck out my tongue at him before continuing intently. “James…ALEXANDER…” Here’s the tricky one. “M—Mmmmmm—?” I screwed up my face, raising my eyebrows as I said slowly, “Mmmm….acccK—?”

He grinned and gave the tiniest shake of his head

“—K-ALLLLLCOLM MACKENZIE FRASER!!” I finished in a slur of triumph.

“Well done, lass,” he laughed and turned on his side toward me, his cheek on my thigh. “Now ye ken who I am, we can be marrit!”

I did know who he was, no matter what name he went by. And if I’d been a little hazy on trivial details before, we had spent the last hour learning each others’ histories and families. Still, it was certainly good to know the true name of my husband-to-be. I smoothed his cinnamon curls back from his face, reciting more softly. “James….Alexander… Malcolm….MacKenzie….Fraser.” He had his eyes closed, following my touch with small, contented hums. “It’s a beautiful name, Jamie.”

He smiled. “Common enough, but it’s served me well, thusfar.”

“Fraser,” I repeated. “Claire Fraser.”

He opened his eyes, such feeling and joy written there. “Now, that is a beautiful name.”

“I rather like it too. Though, you know, in my own time, some women are starting to keep their own last names after they marry.”

He blinked. “Is….If that’s what ye wish—”

“No, no,” I said quickly, squeezing his shoulder with a laugh. “I don’t. I want to share a name with you.”

He smiled, that sweet, sleepy, boyish smile. “Then I shall count it a gift. A gift from my beloved, who is, herself, the greatest gift of my life.”

Bloody charmer. And the remarkable thing was, he meant it. “Do you wish to know more about it?” 

“More about what, Sassenach?” 

“My time. Where I come from” 

He straightened a bit at that. “Aye, I do. What it’s like, what’s changed, what hasn’t.” 

“Anything you wish to know, Jamie, you have only to ask.” 

He nodded. “In time,” he said simply, stroking me gently. “I’m curious to learn from ye; but we’ve a lifetime for it, aye?” 

I bent down to kiss him. “Yes. Yes, we do.” 

We sat in silence for a long, peaceful time, the weight of him warm on my lap and legs. We did have a lifetime for talking, and yet so little time now. We’d had scarcely two hours alone, in fact, in the day and a half since I’d crept shamelessly into his chamber. My restriction to the castle walls and Jamie’s duties at the stables had left us with few opportunities to see one another without rousing suspicion, and that was paramount. We had to tread carefully until Jamie had the chance to speak with Colum, to give an explanation of how the apparent ice between us had transformed so swiftly into betrothal. No small task, that, and Colum had been detained in meetings with the visiting Grant delegation all of the previous day. 

And so, we’d been discreet: a stolen moment in an alcove, here; a shared glance across the great hall, there; Jamie’s lips on mine, his hands cupping my face as he bade me goodnight at my chamber door with a husky, “Goodnight, mo chridhe;” this blissful hour of solitude in lieu of the noon meal, an hour with Jamie (Murtagh standing sentinel at the end of the corridor, Lord bless him). Even a moment with Jamie was beautiful, like….like…Yes: like he was my first love—the passion, the sweetness; the inability to keep from grinning foolishly whenever I was with him. 

“Christ, this is NOT proper,” Jamie said suddenly, loosening his grip and making me just as unexpectedly aware that his arms had been around my waist, his hands gently cupping my arse, his face mere inches away from my nether parts.

“Proper-SHMOPPER,” I shrugged, bending down to kiss his temple. “And it’s fairly damn proper from my point of view, since you insist on keeping me an honest woman.” 

Because the ‘passion’ we’d shared in our hour together, despite my best efforts to have my way with my new fiancé, was all of the fully-clothed variety.

“Believe, you me, Sassenach, I want ye…” He sighed and his hands spasmed as though to grab onto something. “Want ye so badly I have to catch my breath from it, sometimes… ”

“If it’s what you wish, darling, so be it. It’s rather sweet, actually—Just as long as it’s not stemming from some fool notion about my virtue.” I gave him a wry grin. “I was married before, so I’m no more a blushing virgin than you are!”

“Aye, well….” He gave a sharp cough and shifted to sit upright against the opposite wall of our alcove. He had a strange expression on his face. 

I stretched and rested my back against my own wall, my legs parallel to his. I gently touched his foot. “What’s the matter, Jamie?”

“This is truly what ye want, Sassenach, aye? To be wed to me?”

“Yes,” I said at once, squeezing his leg. “You’re what I want.“ I ran back through my words for an explanation. “And I’m sorry I alluded to Frank, I just—”

He shook his head. “Dinna ever apologize for that. It’s part of ye.” 

But it was clear enough that mention of it had brought a shadow over his heart. 

“I love you.” I tried to meet his lowered gaze. Did he still doubt. “Do you believe me?

“Aye,” he said at once, giving a genuine but troubled smile. “There is a truth and a trust between us now. I believe it. And I love you too, mo nighean donn. It’s only…” 

I supposed if he could believe I came from the future, he could believe what he’d so vividly felt between us on the road. Still… “What’s troubling you, Jamie?” 

“I just wish to say that I’m sorry, about Frank. That ye couldna—that the way back to him was barred.”

I wanted to make it into a joke, but couldn’t. “I can’t see why you should be sorry, to be perfectly honest.”

“Frank wasna cruel to ye, aye? He was—is a good man?”

“Yes. A very good man.”

“And ye loved him.”

“I did. I—do, still—in—in a way—”

“Aye, I suppose ye must. And that’s why I’m sorry, in a way, because it’s still a loss for ye, one that ye must bear.” 

I nodded, a lump in my throat. He was right: no matter how quickly or wholeheartedly I’d decided to come back to Jamie, Frank would always haunt me, in some way. I hoped he could start over—that I wouldn’t haunt him

“If ye find ye ever—need to talk about him,” Jamie was saying, his brows furrowed so sweetly in concern, “dinna hesitate, aye?”

“That’s very gallant of you,” I laughed, a little hoarsely as I swallowed. 

“Well,” he laughed, gleaming with that lively energy I adored so greatly, “mind, ‘tis easy for me be magnanimous, seeing as how the man willna be born for two hundred years.” He sighed and looked me in the eye. “But suffice it to say, for the love between you and me, I couldna go further wi’out saying that I understand this is all verra complicated. I wish us to be…partners, to share our hearts wi’ one another, as my parents did. So, just know that whatever it is ye might be feeling is alright—and I shall do my best to understand—and help, if I might.”

“I almost wish that the stones had worked.” 

It was out of my mouth before I truly considered it, and I saw a ripple of pain pass through him before he marshaled himself with a gruff, “Why’s that?”

“So that I could have chosen you,” I said frankly.  He smiled in relief, a genuine, broad, glowing smile, but I went on. “If I could have felt that the stones would have worked, and stopped myself, thought of you and truly chosen you…Lord, I don’t know. Perhaps my guilt over Frank would have been greater, but I can’t bear the thought of you, now, thinking you were…. second choice.”

He beckoned to me. “Come here to me, mo chridhe.”

I crawled over until I was sitting curled sideways on his lap, the two of us heaped together in the sunlit window. He laid a warm palm on the side of my cheek and gently stroked my hair back from my face, murmuring into the top of my head. “Even if I was second choice,” he said firmly, “t’was a second choice because of your duty, and that’s no shame to you or to me. If I’d known the truth, I’d have taken ye there to the stones myself; no matter how painful it would have been to deliver ye back to the arms of another man.”

“You…really would have done that?”

Aye. Couldna have done otherwise. Ye had to try. It was your duty, and ye discharged it. And now, your conscience can be clear, as can mine.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, feeling the trickles of absolution flowing over me. I wrapped my arms around his waist and soaked him in; his scent, his warmth, the cadence of his voice. “We’re lucky. We’re so very lucky,” I whispered.

“We’re blessed.”

A sun-soaked eternity later, he gave my back two quick taps and made to rise.

“Oh, don’t go,” I moaned playfully, wrapping my arms tighter around his neck. “I’m so COLD.“ I made a dramatic pout that would have impressed any Hollywood director. “Stay and keep me warm, Mr. MacTavish!”

He snorted, laughing fondly, remembering. “You’re blazing as a wee coal, Sassenach,” he said, extricating himself only to lean overtop me, pressing me gently back into the nest of blankets. “But as much as I’d love to stay and let ye light me up a bit, I’ll be late if I dinna leave now. ‘Tis an important meeting, aye?”

It bloody well was. “Are you nervous?”

“Of marrying you?” he asked with a grin, nipping my neck.” Aye, terrified, feisty wee beastie.”

“No, not me,” I laughed, though the anxiety gripped my gut. “Of your talk with Colum.”

“Oh aye, a bit. He willna be best pleased at my choice—” He ran the back of his hand down my cheek. “But surely it canna come as a complete shock to him that taking over the clan hasna been my ambition, particularly wi’ Dougal looming large so near at hand.”

“So, you think he’ll give us his blessing?”

“I have my hopes set on cold acquiescence, myself,” Jamie said, frankly. “If he puts up a skelloch, my argument is that wi’ the Sassenach spy in my bed, I can more easily keep my eye on her; keep her from doing anything too treacherous.”

“Treacherous? Heavens, no.” I rose with him and kissed him chastely, then cupped him in a way that was anything BUT chaste, relishing his moaning gasp. “Wicked? Oh, most certainly.”

“Thank you for meeting wi’ me, uncle.”

The Laird of Clan MacKenzie was resplendent, as usual, in his furs and frock coat. In addition, though, his manner this afternoon was uncharacteristically bright, his eyes twinkling and a smile playing at his mouth from across the broad desk. “So, nephew: I assume you’re here to ask permission to return to your estate.”

“How did ye ken that, uncle?” Aye, and that was part of it, was it not ? Jamie was free. He could go home. To Jenny. To Lallybroch. Aye, and he would. Just not alone.

“It’s been clear enough from your manner these last few weeks that you could no longer be happy at Leoch wi’ Mistress Beauchamp about.” 

Jamie flinched at her name, but Colum didn’t seem to notice, steepling his fingers and looking on with seemingly kind approbation.  

“Well, uncle, she isna so—”

“It was good of ye to come to the lady’s aid, lad,” Colum said gently, “Has she been pestering ye?”

“No,” he said emphatically, “Not at all, though I thank you for your concern, uncle.” The time has come, Fraser.  “The thing is—”

Colum held up a hand. “Ye dinna need to play so near the chest, lad. I ken it’s been hard, and it would be better on ye were she to be gone.” He beamed. “And I’m happy to say I’ve a solution.”

Jamie’s wame clenched.  A solution? Involving Claire? 

Colum gestured to a servant in the corner, who came forward with a decanter of whisky. To Jamie’s astonishment, Colum was heaving himself out of the chair and hobbling to come around the desk and stand beside him. 

He rose and held out staying hands. “Uncle, sit, please, ye dinna have to—”

“Nonsense, it’s an important occasion, lad.” The laird took a glass from the tray and handed one to Jamie. The noble kinsman raised the whisky and sighed in a wide, proud way. “A toast: to my dear sister’s son and his wife-to-be.” He drank. 

Jamie followed suit, for no other reason than to hide the shock that must be visible on his face. WIFE-TO-BE?? How did he know?? 

Colum, in another surprise, seemed pleased by Jamie’s stunned silence. “Och, so ye did piece it together, then?” He roared with laughter and inclined his head with a fierce pride. “That’s why you’re fit to lead this clan, lad. Clever and cunning, and it does ye much credit. Slainte.”

His uncle drank again, but it was Jamie’s head reeling. Had someone overheard him and Claire in the last day and a half and reported back to the laird? Was this kind, approving performance naught but a game? Was Jamie about to be castigated for having the audicity to suggest wedding the sassenach?

And yet the laird seemed so genuine in his congratulations. He positively glowed as he set his glass back on the tray and clapped Jamie on the arm. “Now, you’ll see soon enough for yourself that Edina is a fine lady, if a wee bit—”

“Who?” Jamie blurted, though the realization was already plummeting down upon him. 

“Edina Grant, your—” And like a stormcloud over the sun, Colum’s expression darkened to a deadly, steely grey. He all but growled it: “Your betrothed.”

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The ISTJ (SiTeFiNe)

Introverted Sensing (Si):

  • Deeply in tune with the physical experience of their environment
  • Very aware of the surrounding physical sensations / how it affects them
  • Often seeks to surround themselves with pleasant stimuli
  • Gravitates toward nature
  • Focused on their personal experiences in the world
  • Rarely frustrated by insignificant or trivial details
  • Prone to project a sense of outward “calmness” and usually relaxed
  • Does not allow external demands to interfere with their experience
  • Somewhat immune to negative sensory influences
  • Their aesthetics can be eccentric or bizarre, depending on their taste
  • Often unconcerned with maintaining appearances or upholding others’ aesthetics (they choose what they like, based on what they like)
  • Can be Spartan in their living needs and prefer function to luxury
  • Prefers to purchase the best product possible
  • Proactive in keeping their environment pleasing to themselves
  • Enjoys being hands-on or mechanical
  • Attentive to the signals their bodies send them
  • Good at mapping out their environment
  • Tends to explore and pay attention to their environment
  • Falls into habitual patterns and annoyed by unnecessary external changes (since it messes up their internal sense of “where things are”)

Extroverted Thinking (Te):

  • Often practical, direct, or formal in their demeanor
  • Prone to a dry, matter-of-fact tone
  • Values clarity and directness of communication
  • Focuses on communicating accurate information (neglects dealing with the emotional aspects or motives in conversation)
  • Pragmatic, and inclined to accumulate a great deal of practical knowledge (this may include: mechanical knowledge, skill with tools, financial information, technical abilities, historical knowledge, medical/scientific knowledge, etc)
  • Often focuses on developing practical knowledge to keep their life running smoothly (what do I need to know, to avoid or fix household problems?)
  • Enjoys organizing their external environment to please their senses (Si)
  • Presents their knowledge in a factual, plainspoken manner, easily accessible to others
  • Enjoys analyzing and comparing different goods and services
  • Prefers to do those things oneself, instead of delegate to others
  • Demands an active, personal role in decision-making
  • Often driven for financial independence and security
  • Dislikes it when their living environment or surroundings are not in harmony with their senses (Si) and driven to correct that
  • Might see unnecessary waste of resources (financial, energy, water, living space, etc) as unacceptable and careless

Introverted Feeling (Fi):

  • Prone to overlooking (or not considering) the emotional elements of conversation
  • Not good at reading people’s emotional states
  • Not inclined to perceive or speculate about others’ hidden emotional states or motives unapparent from their behavior
  • Sometimes comes across as “uncaring” or “insensitive” to others
  • May not acknowledge the importance of their emotions
  • Tries not to let their emotional states influence decisions
  • Sometimes fails to realize how strong their feelings are until they experience them
  • May struggle to develop “new” relationships, and value established ones instead
  • Tends toward strong attachments to chosen family and friends
  • Values a strong work ethic (Te) in others and in oneself
  • May tend toward a desire for peaceful seclusion and underestimate the need for people in their lives
  • Respectful and good-natured, though it takes time for their humor to emerge
  • Has an intense dislike for insincerity
  • Often resists others’ attempts to manipulate or control them

Extroverted Intuition (Ne):

  • Often dismissive of radical ideas or flights of fancy
  • Changeable in their opinions, over time and through different experiences (their own experiences lead them to change, they do not embrace new ideologies or lifestyles for their own sake)
  • Lack spontaneity but may feel like “something is missing” in their life
  • Appreciates people with well-developed imaginations, spontaneity, and new ideas
  • May devalue “hidden meanings,” preferring down-to-earth or “proven” things instead
  • Often does not emphasize the unique aspects of their character

Compiled from MBTI / Socionics descriptions by Charity.

Maddie hums as she tucks some diapers into her overnight bag, a drowsy smile plastered on her sleep deprived face. She just received a text message from Westley a few moments ago informing her that he was leaving work early and would be at the hospital in less than an hour to take her and Jane home.

Home, he’d said. Their home, Madeleine sighs. Not for the first time she finds her mind wandering to the trivial, minute details of what it might mean to be Mrs. Westley Monahan. She imagines how pretty their “WM” initials would be monogrammed on a set of Egyptian cotton towels, how melodic her daughter’s name would sound ending in Monahan instead of Pridemore, how attractive she and West would look posing together on the front of a holiday card.

Lost in her daydreams, Maddie doesn’t hear a word of the heated argument echoing in the hallway outside her door, nor does she notice as Kit silently slithers into her hospital room, triumph oozing from his gaze like molten lava from the mouth of a volcano.

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Ace Attorney Gothic

-It is a new day. But that means nothing to you now. All you know now is pressure, suffering, and mockery.

-You speak to your client. You have never been more frustrated. Why are they like this. You could die in that courtroom.

-The trial has begun. You can feel the sweat beginning. What new insults will rain upon you today, you wonder?

-The judge speaks. He references the prosecutor. That man is quiet for now. But you know better. You prepare to bluff for your life.

-You have no idea what you’re doing. You never have. Wait, are you winning? No. You are not. It is so very hard to.

-A rude comment about your hair has been made. You feel annoyed. They know nothing of the effort this style takes. You must stay focused.

-Suddenly you see it. The contradiction in the testimony. You raise your hand, point your finger, and prepare to shout. This is your moment.

-Victory is rapidly approaching. You are ready to win. But a trivial detail has come up. You feel your happiness and hope diminish. You are helpless.

-But you pull through. You have defeated the claim. You have won. Confetti is descending from the ceiling. Where did it come from. Where did it go.

-You see your rival after the trial. You greet him. He is cold and dismissive. You wish you could help him. But that’s not until a few more plot developments.

-Your rival demands burgers. You have no money. You pay for burgers anyway. How are you not in debt.

-You think you can rest now. But little do you know that the strangest human beings possible are planning on being involved in your cases. Why can’t there be a normal person, just once.

-You feel uneasy about what certainly approaches. You wish you were prepared. But you can’t be. You are never prepared, no matter what you say. Everyone knows this.

AND ANOTHER THING aa4 brought up but was never discussed again was how easy it is to bend the truth (ie “I never said this was my locket. I said this was a locket with my daughter’s picture in it").

Can you imagine if a witness or even the Big Bad in aa7 very nearly gets away with everything because they’re not technically lying?

There’s no contradictions in their testimony, no psych-locks are showing up bc they’re not keeping the secret close to their heart at all–they’re practically saying it over and over on in court on the witness stand, but it amounts to nothing bc it’s calmly, coolly explained away. Apollo can’t find any nervous tics bc they’re not nervous at all. They’re not lying. Athena can’t detect any noise, their emotions are just … lining up with the testimony. The idea of pathological liars is proposed, but then … where are the psych-locks?

Who could possibly think of every possible outcome and plan for a response so meticulously? Who could possibly be motivated to keep an outrageous amount of control over seemingly trivial details? Who would go to such lengths, because it all reeks of a grudge?

Kristoph Gavin.

I Lost A Friend

This isn’t my usual tickle-related content, so just be weary of that. But it is something I’d like people to read. So please, give it your time.

Today, seeing as it’s just past midnight, is the 5 year anniversary of the death of one of my closest friends. He was only 21. I remember getting the phone call one random day at Uni. Another friend, informing me of the details. He sounded like he didn’t know how to tell me. I don’t think I knew how to react. I just said “thank you”. I sat there in my room all day. Just sitting. I kept thinking “why am I not crying? Why am I not screaming?”. I felt awful, like I didn’t care. Of course I was just in shock. I hadn’t processed it. But I’ll never forget feeling awful for not immediately breaking down. After a few hours it hit me. And trust me, I broke down then. I’m not typically an emotional guy, but I was then. I couldn’t stop sobbing.
A few weeks later I went back home for his stone-setting. I met with his family. Gave them some pictures of us. We shared good memories and grieved together. I can see the look on his 7-year old sisters face now. Like she didn’t understand why all the adults were sad. Like she was concerned about us. It was devastating for his family and I felt so helpless to do anything. I felt like my even being there reminded them of their son. Of what they lost.
Then that night some of our friends went camping in his memory. He loved to camp. He always said it was funny because he was gay and was “the campest man for many reasons!”. We sat there and reminisced into the early hours. We argued at one point, about some trivial detail, fuelled by loss. Like somehow yelling at each other about something that got out of hand helped us to air our issues with life being unfair. It was a good night. We were together.
But more than any of that, what sticks out in my mind is the last time I saw him before he passed away. I had just gotten home from Uni for a week off. We hadn’t talked in a bit cos I’d been away. As I was walking through the train station I saw him. Waiting for someone. He hasn’t seen me. I was already late to meet my family so I just ran around, saying in my own head I’d message him later, catch up with him while I was home. I’d see him soon enough. I didn’t. I didn’t message him. I was always too busy. I didn’t reach out to him because I thought why should I? Let him reach out. Let him do it. I didn’t see him again. I had walked away from my last time seeing him. I never got to tell him how much he impacted me. How much I loved him. How much he meant to me, as a friend, even if we weren’t talking. Today, for every year for the rest of my life, I’ll always remember the time I failed to put aside my own feelings and reach out to someone who was a part of my life. If only to say “Thank you. For making me laugh. Being there for me. Arguing with me. Protecting me. Sharing your life with me. I’m sorry I let my pride and whatever we both did let us drift apart, and that I was a bad friend or you were a bad friend or I did this or you did that it doesn’t fucking matter. It just doesn’t fucking matter. I’m sorry. But thank you”.

Folks, that will haunt me until the day I die. The pain. The memories. Our failings. All of it. It will haunt me.

I know I never ask this of people, but could people reblog this around the community if they read it? Share it as much as you can. Not for my story, but for what I’m about to ask next.

Message someone you haven’t spoken to in a while. Maybe you didn’t speak because of a fight and you’re not talking? Maybe you just let it drift? Maybe you just haven’t found time? Regardless, message them. Even if it’s just to thank them for being part of your life. For being there for the good times and bad. Just tell them “thank you”.

And if you get a little “thank you” messaged to you, consider replying. Think about what it feels like to lose someone. Forever. To have no chance at getting them back in your life. And please do what I failed to do. Put it aside. Just talk. Even if it’s just a catch up. Thank them back. Make the effort.

I’m sorry this wasn’t a more fun thing to read, but thank you for reading. And please please do what I ask. Share it around and take part. I want everyone in the community to be able to do this. Just for today. Just for my friend. Just for a 21-year old lad, who none of you knew, and who never knew how grateful I was for him.
Reach out. Build back bridges. Don’t let it be too late.

Thank you. Both on my behalf, and his.

Best foreign movies for learning language---Italian movies

Like France and Germany, Italy is among the European countries with a long and very rich film history. The great thing about Italian films is that even bad films are generally beautiful films.  

Life Is Beautiful (1997)La vita è bella
When an open-minded Jewish librarian and his son become victims of the Holocaust, he uses a perfect mixture of will, humor and imagination to protect his son from the dangers around their camp.
An unforgettable fable that proves love, family and imagination conquer all.

The Best of Youth (2003)—La meglio gioventù
An Italian epic that follows the lives of two brothers, from the 1960s to the 2000s.
“La Meglio Gioventù” is a hymn to Italy and the Italian people! It is their history and belongs to their culture. The story takes place on a period of 37 years, from 1966 to 2003, highlighting some momentous events of Italy, which molded in a way their spirit: the flooding in Florence in 1966, the terrorist fight in the ‘70s, the World Championship of 1982, the killing of Judge Falcone in 1992, and so on.

Cinema Paradiso (1988)—Nuovo Cinema Paradiso
A filmmaker recalls his childhood, when he fell in love with the movies at his village’s theater and formed a deep friendship with the theater’s projectionist.
The fill tells the celebration of youth, friendship, and the everlasting magic of the movies.

The Great Beauty (2013)—La grande bellezza
Jep Gambardella has seduced his way through the lavish nightlife of Rome for decades, but after his 65th birthday and a shock from the past, Jep looks past the nightclubs and parties to find a timeless landscape of absurd, exquisite beauty.

The Consequences of Love (2004)—Le conseguenze dell'amore
Titta di Girolamo apparently has a regular and tedious life with nothing strange a part from his own name (as he uses to say). He lives in a Hotel in Lugano (Switzerland) since almost ten years, spending his days waiting for something we don’t know. His life is too rigid, too detached following a flat routine. Titta ignore everyone and probably he has no emotions at all. Basically there is no story. But one day he decided, breaking all his personal rules, to exchange some words with Sofia, the hotel’s barmaid. Incredibly all the situation change, emotions, love, mafia, death come back violently into Titta’s life.

Malèna (2000)
On the day in 1940 that Italy enters the war, two things happen to the 12-year-old Renato: he gets his first bike, and he gets his first look at Malèna. She is a beautiful, silent outsider who’s moved to this Sicilian town to be with her husband, Nino. He promptly goes off to war, leaving her to the lustful eyes of the men and the sharp tongues of the women. During the next few years, as Renato grows toward manhood, he watches Malèna suffer and prove her mettle. He sees her loneliness, then grief when Nino is reported dead, the effects of slander on her relationship with her father, her poverty and search for work, and final humiliations. Will Renato learn courage from Malèna and stand up for her?

The Son’s Room (2001)——-La stanza del figlio
Giovanni is a successful psychoanalyst who has to put up with the seemingly endless string of trivial details his patients ramble on about. Yet his family provides a loving and steadfast foundation for his life that can even survive a problem like their son, Andrea, being accused of stealing a rare fossil in school. That foundation is profoundly rocked when Andrea dies in a scuba diving accident. Although the usual arrangements run smoothly, the emotional harm is profound. Giovanni begins to obsessively dwell on the missed chances he had with his son that might have saved his life, even blaming his patients. In addition , his wife is inconsulable and his daughter is becoming anti social in their loss. In the midst of this turmoil, a secret of their son’s life is revealed that provides healing in a way they never anticipated.

The Legend of 1900 (1998)—La leggenda del pianista sull'oceano
Shortly after the Second World War, Max, a transplanted American, visits an English pawnshop to sell his trumpet. The shopkeeper recognizes the tune Max plays as one on a wax master of an unreleased recording, discovered and restored from shards found in a piano salvaged from a cruise ship turned hospital ship, now slated for demolition. This chance discovery prompts a story from Max, which he relates both to the shopkeeper and later to the official responsible for the doomed vessel, for Max is a born storyteller. Though now down on his luck and disillusioned by his wartime experiences, the New Orleans-born Max was once an enthusiastic and gifted young jazz musician, whose longest gig was several years with the house band aboard the Virginian, a posh cruise ship. While gaining his sea legs, he was befriended by another young man, the pianist in the same band, whose long unlikely name was Danny Boodman T.D. Lemons 1900, though everyone just called him 1900, the year of his birth. …

If I missed any of your favorite Italian movies?  Leave a comment.

“Connecting Link” (ft. iKON’s Bobby) Ch. 6

너와 나의 연결고리

You and me, our connection,

이건 우리 안의 소리

this is the sound inside of us.

After you got home, you sat in your room and stared at the screen of your phone, wondering when Bobby would text. When you realized that he was probably still flying, you decided to leave him a text assuring him that you got home safely. Of course, there was no reply. So even if you tossed and turned, you forced yourself into a fitful sleep.

Late in the evening, the next day, he finally replied when you were falling asleep.

Ah, the pains of a long distance relationship.

Some days, even if it was just to talk to him, you tell him the little, trivial details of your life.

Days went by like this, long and meandering. You got used to it at some point, but it was not a feeling you liked. As you walked home from work, you saw how the leaves turned and autumn began preparing for the coming winter.

Suddenly, your phone started ringing and one Kimbab appeared on screen.

“Hello?” He chuckled into the receiver and you felt his voice crawl down your neck. “Go home. Now.”

“Nice try, babo. Last time I checked you’re not my dad.” You scolded him while he was trying to scold you.

There was silence and you simply breathed out as you sat on one of the benches facing the river. “This feels weird.”

“Same here.” He answered and you could almost see the smile on his face. You could hear chatter and jeers in the background, assuming it was the boys teasing Bobby.

“Where are you?” You asked, not really wanting to know, but you just wanted to hear more of his addictive tone.

“Just… you know, somewhere with meat.” He laughed, looking back at his members who were munching on burgers. “The kids are teasing me, your Jinhwan-oppa babbled about you so much it feels like he knows you better.”

“Don’t forget Hanbin too.” You added just to tease him.

“Hanbin is scarier. It’s like he wants to keep you for himself.” Bobby thought out loud. “But you’re mine.”

“Are you asking me?” You huddled your knees together, the autumn wind is sharper at dawn after all.

“Did you hear the question mark?” He paused and you didn’t answer. “I didn’t think so. It was a declaration, Y/N-ssi.”

“Ooooh.” You challenged and you both laughed the awkwardness off.

“How ‘bout you?” He shuffled around in front of the restaurant, trying to shake off the fluttering in his nerves. “Are you still in Hangang?”

“Yeah, still here. It’s getting colder though, so I might get going soon.” You sighed, looking at the beautiful river.

There was another silence and as if proving your connection, both of your hearts constricted in your chest at the thought of the other, somewhere halfway across the world.

“What are you thinking about?” Bobby finally asked, missing your voice a bit too soon.

“Nothing… Just wishing you were here.” You muttered a bit too sincere for your own liking, so you added, “…so that I can borrow your jacket. It’s freezing out here.”

“Don’t you want me to hold you?” He teased back, having been accustomed to your banters.

“Nope, just your jacket.” You laughed, standing up and retracing your steps back to Eunmin’s car. “I should head back.”

Your voice held the wistfulness and hesitation that always catches Bobby off guard. You would never ask him, but he knew that there was never a time when you actually wanted to hang up the phone or cut a conversation short.

“Yeah, you should probably get some sleep.” He bit his lip, trying to hide his own disappointment.

“Yeah…” You hummed, having no choice but to agree. “I’m hanging up now.”

You pulled the phone from your ear to press the red button, but you heard the low register of his voice trying to cut through.

“Baby!” He followed and he sighed when you said 'hello?’ again. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“What?” The key was already in the ignition and you were ready to go back.

“I can’t ask right now, but I will ask you when I get back.” Bobby’s usually confident voice trembled, his mind trying to get used to the fact that his heart was speaking. “I want you to think about me being an idol, of the short relationship we have formed; think about what’s great between me and you, think of all the cheesy and unromantic moments we’ve been through. Are you thinking about them right now?”

“Yeah.” You croaked over the erratic beating of your heart.

“Now think that we can do much better than all of that.” Bobby looked at the night sky and how it was still tinged with the colors of the late afternoon burst. “And Y/N?”

“Yeah?” The neon lights played with your vision as it danced with the soft waves of Hangang.

“I want you to please hold onto that feeling. Hold it close to your heart, turn it over and around until you reach a decision and by the time you do, I’m sure I’d be beside you already.” If Bobby’s hand, the one he was looking at then, could traverse millions of miles through the phone, then he would’ve used it to caress your cheek.

“Got it, Oppa.” You gripped the steering wheel, feeling light-headed and needing some sort of leverage.

“Okay, I’ll see you again soon?” He smiled at the hope of finally laying eyes on you.

“I’ll see you soon, Oppa.” You hung up.

The key was in the ignition, but you took it out, not knowing how you can possibly drive sanely because Bobby made you shake from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

Bobby stuffed his hands in his pockets. The call was over, but the tell-tale sign of his flustered stupor remained; cherry-colored cheeks and a wide, foolish grin.

The leaves fell gracefully on the pavement, creating ripples in the water. Autumn had come and gone and with the first snow was Bobby’s return. 

Your eyes popped open, you turned over and saw that it was a bit too early to be going to work. You tried to settle in again, but you suddenly remembered that Bobby was returning at dawn. You took a look at your phone again and saw that you had a good hour before Bobby arrives. You had insisted on picking him up, but he thought it was too risky since fans would still be eagerly waiting even if it was already 2 a.m.

It was Eunmin’s idea to let you use the apartment for your 'date’ with your 'soulmate’. You weren’t comfortable with the idea, but Eunmin said that she will be back early anyway and that she was just accompanying Jackson before he leaves for a short Asia tour. She even warned you not to do anything naughty because she will be right back to meet your soulmate who you have been hiding from her.

You stretched out, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You went through your closet to look for something pretty yet casual to wear, after all you were staying in. You didn’t specifically plan anything, but you did download a few movies and stocked on hot chocolate. You decided on wearing a white, cotton one-piece with the word, ‘nosy’ printed on it. It was one of those clothes that you initially bought to be worn outside, but have slowly transitioned into your regular housewear. You threw a black sweater over it just because it was especially chilly even if the heater was on.

You got out of your room and went to the kitchen where you saw that the snow was falling pretty hard. You frowned, worried about Eunmin, iKON and Got7. You went back to your room to get your phone, but something caught your eye. Beside your desk, you had discarded the bag you used during iKON’s fansign. You totally forgot that you had stashed it there months ago, but now the album peeked out ominously. You took it and holding it then felt strange especially when you have become quite acquainted with the members.

You flipped through it, purposely avoiding Bobby’s part. You smiled at the scribbles they made.

“Samgyupsal-ssi! We finally get to meet you, take care of Bobby!^^” Jinhwan wrote.

“Thanks for the food! You seem to like food, huh?” Yunhyeong wrote and you chuckled.

Your heart pounded as you searched for B.I’s sign. Somehow, and sometimes unconsciously, you get a compelling need to receive his approval.

“Y/N-ssi, it was nice meeting you! I mean it. Hope we get along.” Hanbin had written simply.

Junhoe had thanked you for the sandwich and playfully asked for more, while the others wrote the same generic message because, as per Jinhwan’s advice, you didn’t introduce yourself to them back then. Now, you can hardly get any sleep because the maknaes have been pestering you the moment they stole your number from Bobby’s phone.

Finally, you took a deep breath before flipping the photobook open to Bobby’s part. You let out a soft gasp as you looked at the filled page which contained the same sentence in different variations.

God, you’re beautiful.
You’re really pretty.
Do you know that you’re this pretty?
You’re insanely beautiful.
Beautiful eyes, beautiful voice, beautiful voice…
How can someone be as beautiful as you? 
Your smile is pretty too.
Your lips are pretty too.”

It said and at this point, you were grinning from ear to ear. Something was scribbled at the end and Bobby had striked it out, but you can still make out the words and when you did, your face started blushing like crazy.

Right after the line saying your lips were pretty, “I want to kiss you so bad right now.”

As if on cue, your phone buzzed and Eunmin’s name appeared onscreen. You immediately grabbed it to answer her call.

“Yo,” she said, pausing to try ans listen if anyone was talking in the background. “’…your boyfie’s not there yet?”

“Yes, my boyfie’s not here yet, Ma'am.” You repeated sarcastically. “Are you seriously checking up on me?”

“Hul, look at her go. For your info, I’m not one of those crazy girls.” She huffed and you could hear Jackson in the background laughing and trying to tell you something.

“Are you still with Jackson? Tell him and the other guys I said hi.” You said and Eunmin finally conceded and put Jackson on the phone.

“Hey, food buddy! What’s up with you these days? Heard you got a boyfriend! Does that mean I don’t have to buy you meals anymore?” He laughed boisterously and you could hear Eunmin and the other members scold him. “Okay, fine. Eunmin says I have to buy you meals anyway.”

You answered with a giggle and said, “Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to buy me as often.”

“Great! Anyway, uhm… You see–” His voice got cut off because Eunmin snatched back the phone. “You see, the snow is falling pretty hard, so Jackson’s flight got delayed and I’m being forced–” Jackson protested with a loud 'no’. “…to stay with him a bit longer. After all, he’s going on tour and he has this incurable sickness of missing me too much. You don’t have to wait up for me, the airline hasn’t made announcement and the ride has been delayed indefinitely.”

“Oh, is that so?.” You stood up and went to the kitchen again. “You can stay with Jackson then and let the weather calm down for a bit. You should be careful during your drive home too.”

“Yah, you should be more careful because your boyfriend gets more time alone with you. He might pounce on you while I’m not there, Y/N!” She warned through a low hiss.

“Don’t worry about me, Eunmin. If he pounces on me, that’s because I let him.” You teased with an equally low chuckle.

“Yah!” She hollered.

“I got it already! I’m hanging up, bye!” You heard her trying to stop you, but you just laughed it off.

You took a peek at the storm outside and if you listened keen enough, you can hear the howling wind. You chewed on your lip wondering if you should call and check up on Bobby. You glanced at the time, sighed and decided to give him a few more minutes. In the meantime, you started heating up some water because you were sure that after battling the weather outside, Bobby would want a hot cup of… something. 

You suddenly realized that you didn’t know a lot of things about Bobby save from the things you’ve read online. You didn’t know if he preferred tea over coffee, or if he actually drinks hot chocolate when he gets snowed in. You didn’t know what his favorite food was or even his favorite color and maybe you can find out with a few clicks, but it just dawned on you that you will never discover these things the way other people do because whenever you were with Bobby, being with him was the only thing that mattered.

You were stuck in this train of thought until you realized that the doorbell had been ringing for quite some time already. You sprinted towards the door and whipped it open without checking.

And there he was with blue lips and clothes too thin for the weather. The snow was melting in his hair plus he was shivering and yet, he smiled. He smiled so brightly when he saw your face. He was sighing as if he had just witnessed sunset on a clear sky.

“Hi.” He chattered out.

“Hi.” You answered, imprinting his smile in your mind.

It’s true that you didn’t know much about this man in front of you, you didn’t know how many people he has met, how many miles he had traveled, but he was there at your doorstep, looking at you as if you were the only truth in his world.

And somehow, you thought as you pulled the door to open wider, that wasn’t so bad.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” Jackson pouted holding both of Eunmin’s hands.

“I’ll be fine, will you be okay? You look like you’re about to cry, baby.” She pinched both of his cheeks before giving him a final hug and stepping away.

He groaned. “I can’t leave like this! Why won’t you tell me who Y/N’s soulmate is?”

Eunmin laughed loudly, she would’ve rolled around if she could. “Is this why you can’t leave? Not because you’ll miss me?”

“No!” He immediately exclaimed and waved his hand around. “I’m just curious what kind of person will earn your trust before you even met him.”

She shrugged. “I don’t trust him that much yet, but if my Y/N trusts him then who am I to interfere? Besides, it’s not my secret to tell, you nosy pants.”

“Hey! You are the nosy one here, you had her followed and everything too.” He accused with a pointing finger.

“Yah! Just go!” Eunmin shooed him away and pushed him towards the other members who waved back at her.

When they were out of sight, Eunmin pulled out her phone and started walking slowly towards her car. She sat in the driver’s seat and pulled up the photos of you going in and out of a YG-owned car. Eunmin also recalled your sudden interest in iKON, but most of all, when she borrowed your phone, she saw your selfies with Bobby.

She gripped the stirring wheel, before sighing and driving towards her parents’ home where she decided to spend the night. She can deal with you and Bobby tomorrow, after all, she knew so well the agony of a long distance relationship.


Maybe that wasn’t the word, but the air around you and Bobby was beginning to turn stale and cold. The silence and awkward stares didn’t help either. After all, it’s literally been months since you had last seen each other. He didn’t know what to do with his hands as you closed the door behind him. Should he hold your hand, hug you… kiss you? He licked his lips unconsciously at the thought, realizing that he was shivering from the cold.

“Why are you wearing so little? It’s almost below zero outside!” You scolded him as you went to get a towel from your room.

He stood in the middle of the apartment, not knowing where to stand or sit and merely followed you with his eyes. “I was in a rush to get here, dodging the fans and reporters was not easy, you know.” He tried to keep his voice even, but he was already shivering.

You reappeared and met his eyes, not looking away for a while until you stood in front of him. You recalled standing in the same polite distance when he had asked you to date him. You handed him the towel and his eyes shot back and forth from your face to the cloth. “Take a warm shower first, I’m going to make us a warm drink.”

“Y-You want me to take a shower h-here?” He asked, wondering if he heard it right.

“Yeah, why–” You stopped, realizing what he was implying, then proceeded to slap his arm. “Yah, you pervert. Get out.”

He laughed and you grinned, finally the awkwardness was dissipating and the comfort of being around each other settled in. He took the towel from your hand, slyly sliding his fingers between yours. He continued to look at your interlocked fingers, silently muttering, “I’m home.”

You placed your palm under his jaw to guide his gaze to yours. “Welcome back.”

Your hearts leapt in joy, charging the tension in the air with some kind of electric energy. Your faces gravitated towards each other, slowly… until the kettle on your stove gave a resounding whistle. You jumped away, as if you had been electrocuted by the very same tension.

“Wh-Why-Why don’t you step in first? I’ll go get that, what do you want to drink, coffee, tea…?” You trailed off as you took slow steps backwards.

“Guess.” He replied mischievously, taking a step towards you.

“Stop! The bathroom’s there,” you pointed towards a door. “…j-just shower comfortably and I’ll leave clothes by the door.”

He chuckled at your antics, before obediently heading towards the bathroom. You almost sighed when he closed the door, only to be surprised when he opened it again. “You sure you’ll have clothes for me?”

“I don’t, but we’re going to steal some of Jackson’s clothes from Eunmin.” You laughed like it was a clever joke and Bobby shook his head as he closed the door again.

You tried to pace your heart as you placed a hand over it. You finally turned the kettle off and poured the water into a cup.

'Guess, he said.’ You shrugged. 'I’m good at guessing.’

You were already sitting on the couch when you heard the bathroom door slide open. “Yo, I’m done.” He called out. With the towel around his shoulders he stood in front of you in a black shirt and gray sweats. His usually tamed hair had exploded into a mass of bouncy curls. You almost spat out your hot chocolate as you started giggling and Bobby didn’t look as amused.

“I expected a reaction, but I didn’t think it would be this mean.” he continued drying his hair as ge sat beside you. “Where’s mine?”

You coughed out to halt the giggles and gestured towards another cup of hot chocolate on the table. He took a sip and made a sound of satisfaction in the back of his throat as the drink spread its warmth all over his chest.

“Wow, you made the right guess, huh? Hot chocolate wasn’t even in the choices.” He leaned back, but you put your cup down and stood up. “Where you going?”

“I have something for you.” You smiled and disappeared into the kitchen again.

When you came back you had a small cake in hand with a single candle on it. “Welcome back cake?”

Bobby set his cup down as well to admire the cake. He sat closer and admired the neat strawberry shortcake. His smile was as warm as the hot chocolate. “You didn’t have to prepare all of these. You’re enough of a gift to me.”

Your cheeks rivaled the color of the strawberries, “Stop or I won’t light the cake…” You blurted out and he laughed, thinking you were needlessly being flustered.

“Oooh… Scary.” He taunted after you when you went back to the kitchen to get a lighter.

When you got back, the candle was already lighted and Bobby was already sitting on the floor closer to the cake. You sat near him with confused look on your face, “How did you light the candle?”

“Oh, a fan handed me a lighter for some reason.” He scratched behind his ear. “Can I close my eyes and make a wish now?”

You rolled your eyes, but nodded at him and watched as he closed his eyes, palms flattened against each other to make a wish. He was about to blow the candle when you stopped him by pecking his cheek. He halted almost immediately and with eyes wide open he turned to you.

“Did you just do what I think you did?” He was trying so hard not to smile, but it was not easy because, “I think my wish came true before I even blew the candle, what do I do?”

With your face in your hands, refusing to acknowledge what you just did, you replied with a muffled voice, “Make another wish then. I promised you a kiss anyway, so wish for something else.”

There was silence, so you peeked from your fingers and raised your eyes to find him praying more fervently, before he wordlessly blew the candle off.

He turned to you and gestured for you to move closer. You inched towards him a bit and seeing that you weren’t planning to scoot any further, he heaved in a huge breath and reached for your hands instead.

He rubbed circles on your knuckles as he looked for words to say. He licked his lips several times and kept his head low. You suddenly squeezed his fingers tightly and that made him look up.

“You sure you want to do this?” You laughed, but Bobby could feel the tremors in your touch. “I could give you the answer right now.”

“No! I-I-I have this whole speech planned out and…” he exclaimed until his voice slowly died down.

“I don’t need a speech and besides, let’s not try to be all romantic and cringy now. It doesn’t suit our ‘concept’.” He opened his mouth to say something, but you held up a finger. “You said that I should think about you and me and us… I realized just how dangerous being with you is and I’d be sacrificing a lot just to stay with you. I have a life somewhere else, but I have to change my plans because I met you. I haven’t told you yet, but my internship is ending in a few weeks. I have to leave, Bobby.”

“What?” His voice was weak, but his gaze was desperate.

“So now, I’m giving you the chance to ask me what you want to ask.” Your even face terrified him because he couldn’t read you.

“Y/N…” He hesitated, not knowing how his elaborate plan led to this. It was supposed to be romantic and you were supposed to swoon and leap into his arms, but now, he didn’t know. Honestly, sitting there with you should have been a pretty good indicator of your answer and yet, he didn’t have a clue. So he gathered all the courage he saved up for this moment and said, “Y/N, will you… Please be my girlfriend.”

a/n: OMG. AAAAAH. AAAAAHH!!! Those are my thoughts, what’s yours? :)

A Lesson on Need

Pairing: CastielXReader

Word Count: 932

A/N: Short one-shot fluff piece to finish off the weekend. Cas makes a move, awkwardly, because he’s Cas.

Dean shrugged into his jacket as he headed for the garage, “Sammy! Bus is leaving!”

Cas was trailing not far behind, casting a glance over his shoulder down the hall before jogging to catch up to the older Winchester, “But how do you know Y/N feels this way?”

Dean stopped and faced the angel, clapping a hand on his shoulder, “Because, Einstein, Y/N is a young, gorgeous, charming, virile…,” he paused, licking his lips and shaking his head, “She’s a girl with needs - needs that aren’t being met when she stays in the bunker watching The Notebook with you on a Friday night when she could be taking names at the bar and scratching a certain itch. The only explanation is she likes you.”

“Uh, hey Cas,” Sam trotted by and looked between Cas and his brother, “You give him the talk?” He arched his eyebrows in Cas’s direction.

Dean popped a square foil packet into Cas’s coat pocket, squeezed his shoulder and winked, “Go get her cowboy.”

Features perplexed, Cas stood there watching the brothers walk away - no more enlightened than he was before he asked Dean the question.

Keep reading

On further reflection, it’s no wonder Jane has to ask Mal about so many trivial details for Cotillion, since Audrey was the original owner of that position on the Decoration Committee.

Given everything we know of Audrey and her obsession with everything going according to her plans and her lofty expectations, it makes sense that she’d plan for every contingency, from the smallest of decorations like pen cappers, and having the right shade of blue for blue/gold banners.

I can only wonder if she’s starting to get better now that Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather have taken their god granddaughter to a “spa vacation,” either by Audrey’s choice, or the three of them dragging her kicking and screaming into the car…

I doubt Audrey is one to let go of a prestigious, if stressful position just like that.


job au prompt: ‘i have a very cute neighbour and very thin walls and one day I call you and err your moans are very synchronised with my neighbour’s’ + ‘ I called you because I was curious and wow you have a very soothing voice can you please sing me to sleep’ 

Having faced many a dilemma within your life the worst of problems didn’t seem to phase you, or that is until you had stumbled across a small issue that now had you beyond lost. You were a realist and it was within your nature to meet a problem head on and yet all you had done thus far was ignore it.

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How I Met Your Brother (1) First Time

How I Met Your Brother Masterlist here!

AO3 link here!

Created for @spnpolybingo

Title: How I Met Your Brother
Square: Meet Weird
Rating: Explicit

Series Summary: Meg was never a fan of Philosophy, but when professor Novak became their teacher, she changed her mind. They started playing a game consisting of stolen touches and casual hook ups, but they didn’t stop on that. What’s going to happen when Meg meets Cas’ twin, Jimmy?

Word Count: 3312

Characters: Meg Masters, Castiel Novak, Ruby, Sam Winchester (mentioned)

Pairing: Megstiel, endgame Megjimstiel (MegCasJimmy), very briefly SamRuby

Warnings/tags: college AU, teacher/student relationship, smoking, smut, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, safe sex, language

Inspired by Baby Blue Love by Lana del Rey and Cherry by Lana del Rey.

Unbeta’d, so all the mistakes are mine!

A/N: This is officially the last square of SPN Poly Bingo, guys, BUT this one turned into my very first poly series! (I couldn’t let this idea go, ha ha.) Get ready for at least 5 chapters ;) 

I want to thank Christy for hosting @spnpolybingo, ‘cause I’ve had the most fun in ages while filling all the squares, you’re the best <3 And I hope you guys enjoyed this ride, ‘cause, I know that I’ll surely sign up if it happens next year :) 

Oh, it’ll probably be posted weekly or twice a week, ‘cause I’ve got most of it written! Let me know what you think about this one, I’m so excited to show you what I’ve come up with!

If you want to be tagged/untagged in everything or only some stuff, simply let me know or add yourself to this tag sheet! (Tags at the bottom of the post. Those that are crossed out mean that Tumblr didn’t let me tag you.)

Feedback and constructive criticism very welcome and highly appreciated. Feel free to check out my Masterlist and/or Commissions if this piece leaves you wanting more :)

Meg was never the type of person to enjoy going to all lectures and acing all classes. She adapted a much more ideal way of getting through college, and that usually meant half-assing everything that didn’t matter and only paying attention to those classes that would actually be useful for her.

And, while philosophy was rather in the first category, she stuck around anyway, and the only reason for that was professor Novak.

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