#‘oh id make different decisions better ones’ would you though?

[nonbinarylesbianherb]

I find it almost funny the women who shame Alicent for being a victim of misogyny in a patriarchy she did in fact NOT create and had always existed. I find it funny because they think they’re better than Alicent, they think if they were in Alicent’s position that they would’ve instead been some feminist icon- no, if you dealt with the same trauma, the same manipulation, the same system that Alicent did, you would’ve ended up just like her. Not better, in fact maybe even worse.

[wordsbymae]

Hey! Just checking in and i just want to give some love to your aesthetics because they have their own album in my photos just so i can appreciate and think about these characters you got me simping after!

Also i was possibly wondering if you could possibly give descriptions of all your characters i just got out of a huge art block and i wanna draw farmer and also most of your cast. Ive tried already but id like to see them from your eyes and what you think they look like! I would also like to share them if you do but please know there is no pressure and if you already have descriptions i apologize i just get lost in your wonderful content!

Also, I hope you're doing well! - wave anon

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Ok, my time of mourning is over. Also, I fell asleep so my bad. Anyway! Let's try this again.

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Hi! So good to hear from you again. How are you? Oh my goodness that is so cool! I’m so glad you like them!

Of course, I can! It would be my pleasure. I would love to see them but no pressure at all if life gets in the way or you change your mind. No need to apologise! I usually keep descriptions of the yanderes to a minimum just because I know everyone has different types, so I like that people can imagine the type of person they want. Although I do have to imagine them to write so I love sharing that, even though “canonically” they look however the reader wishes them to look. I usually use face claims cause I am lazy at trying to make a new face or mix and match, but there are small differences here and there. Also, you’re gonna make me cry! I am so flattered you wanted to draw my characters; it is honestly surreal!

So, let’s start with the FARMER. So, the farmer is unique compared to my other ocs just cause the reader gets to see him at different stages of his life (although AUs). The older farmer is anywhere in age between 35-50 (depending on what the reader prefers) and is the stereotypical good-looking’’ but rough farmer you see in tv shows and movies. His face claim is Josh Lucas in Yellowstone. He wears mainly dark jeans with a grey tee and long-sleeved collared shirts over the top. He does not go outside without his hat. His hair is dark brownish and long enough that he has to rake it back to put his hat back on, and he also has a ‘70s moustache, with some stubble, even if he shaved yesterday.

YOUNGER FARMER is a little different though, he's between 23-29. I had Brian Van Holt as Bo Sinclair as his face claim, especially in how he acts a bit, but now I also have Lewis Pullman in Outer Range as Rhett Abbott as another face claim. Both suit really well, but Rhett is honestly just that bit better. I haven’t watched the show but from the stills I’ve seen, he suits the vibe really well. But as long as he is clean-shaven and wears similar clothes to old man farmer, it's the younger farmer. I see him wearing a lot of baseball/trucker caps. Most likely he only has one he wears to death and that’s why he doesn’t wear it anymore when he’s older cause it literally doesn’t exist anymore.  I don't see his hair being as long as Rhett's though, maybe even like Arvin Russel's hair from devil all the time. Longish, but not long enough.

FISHERMAN is someone that took me forever to decide what he looks like. I was torn between a lean or beefy fisherman. Thankfully the decision was made for me when I saw a still from the movie the lighthouse of Robert Patterson standing over the top of someone. Also, that movie (even though I haven’t seen it) is a big inspiration for the fisherman. The insanity and derangement of the characters are perfect, and I have quite stills saved in my Pinterest. So yeah, Robert Patterson in that movie is kinda my inspo for the fisherman. My fisherman though is still a little bit more muscular, just a bit. Nothing too crazy, just enough that the reader in my head gets a bit intimidated when they try and stand their ground. Also, I see his hair being much shorter, maybe even cropped on both sides (not to the point of it being shaved off though) but the 19th-century-looking facial hair has to stay though I think, it builds character. He wears a lot of woollen jumpers and rough fabric and looks very weathered and grey.

OK OK, HEAR ME OUT. I have a very particular face claim for KILLER, that has been rattling around my head for over two years even though I only wrote him last year. But killer has to look like Mario Casas in The Skin of the Wolf (at least in my mind). If you want to look, def put the name of the movie as well otherwise the vibes disappear real quick. Anyway, I won’t bore you with a summary of the movie or why it has to be him (Although it is a really good movie, made me cry, and I refused to finish it cause I knew it was about to end in more tears, so in my mind him and his - kinda forced- wife live happily ever after, he sucks - in a kinda hot way- as a person though, great movie for yandere inspo). Ok, so he's really tall, really buff, really dirty looking and then kinda mash him with Thomas Hewitt in the fact he looks like he could bench press a car. Kinda that vibe. Hair is wild, messy, and matted in some places, and his beard is just a mess at this point.

The VIKING is another one that took forever for me to make a choice on how he looks. I actually saved a pic in my Pinterest that was how I view him forever until I realised it was a god of war concept art (nothing wrong with that! but I didn't want to make it fanficish). So he's the only one where I legit have mashed together pieces of people together to get the best out of him. He definitely has long facial hair (not super long, but long compared to nowadays), and he has long hair and a scar running diagonally across one of his eyes. I literally use every attractive man in every Viking-inspired movie or tv show for him so run wild with him! I would love to see how you view him.

ELI is another one I have a very particular face claim for (but you don't have to draw them like that! It just helps me visualise what's happening). I have him down as Jack O'Connell in Godless, but also as Hoyt Rawlins from Walker Independence (A new development for me, it was just the other guy FOR MONTHS). While the other guy is how I view him looking, Hoyt is definitely how he acts, almost spot on. It was crazy watching it and going holy shit! a blonde happy-go-lucky gunslinger cracking jokes at every possible second, it's just Eli but without the whole werewolf thing. He definitely has shorter hair than my other ocs, he keeps it cut quite close, but his beard is something he doesn't really care for, mainly cause it doesn't grow very thick, so he doesn't have to worry. He's got dirty blonde hair, bordering brown but still blonde.

Ok, so the MAD KING is one I'm really happy I changed my mind for. I had him as the evil prince from a letter to the king. But he looks very young and actually not that threatening if you take all the armour off him. Very boyish and not someone you would call a mad king, mad/evil/wicked prince yes, but not a king. But you know someone that looks like a king? Dev Patel in The Green Knight. Oh boy, I am obsessed. The shots of him in the crown and on the throne? Perfect, literally perfect. Now imagine being the queen standing beside him, tears in your eyes and having to hold his hand while yours shakes, your marriage being announced to the kingdom. It fits. So yeah def him, I didn't really change much, the hair and everything suit so yeah. But once again you don't have to draw just actors/characters! If you want to add something in or change things around go for it! Draw for enjoyment!

Lucky last! ALWYN! He was another one who didn't really have someone as a face claim until recently. I just imagined him with scruffy dark hair, dark eyes and a bit muscly. However, I do now use Alex Garcia when he has longish hair. But that's just kind of a placeholder. The guy who played gwaine is another good inspo. But Alwyn always changes how he looks in my mind when I write so I'm happy with whatever!

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Haha, jokes I'm including the SHEEP SHEARER fella for funsies. Ok so I haven't made a decision on the face claim, and I would really want to see how you'd view him. No pressure to draw though!! You do it for yourself, forget about me! I know I literally haven't written a word about him, but I'm planning on setting it late 19th century and having the reader be the niece of the sheep farmer. The reader comes from a pretty well-off family and is visiting her uncle for a little bit. Anyway, she catches the eye of literally every non-related male on the property and since it's a shearing season, there are also a good twenty other men on top of her uncle's workers vining for her attention. I want to make her a little bit naive and not really understanding why all these men want to be her friend, but the sheep shearer, who will be getting a name cause fuck typing that six times, (Probs gonna be Lachlan, shortened to lochy, its a very common name here and apparently not very common elsewhere. although uk probs has it) does. And he hates it. He isn't the best with women, not as smooth as his mates, but he won't let this one get away.

Anyway!!! Thank you for sending this though and all the best!!!!!!!!!

[typenonsense]

@ ur post about a clethubs polycule with many relationships in it... can we see the chart? i love a good polycule chart that looks like a complicated molecular structure

here it is!! I kinda went overboard with it because I was Ambitious and wanted to include as many relationships/dynamics as possible. and also uhh anything for the bit

Lizzie and Mumbo aren’t in here because I couldn’t figure out how to include them and what connections to give them :((( and people like Gem, Pearl, and Scar don’t have many connections because I’m lazy and also didn’t know what to give them haha

but also if you have any suggestions or ideas to make this bigger and/or better PLEASEEEE (also if some of this is hard to read or understand, tell me and I’ll make an image ID, but I can’t promise it’ll be any less confusing shavsjshhs)

notes about some of my decisions under the cut if you want to hear them:

Ren and Tango’s siblings and roommates relationship comes from session 6 of secret life, when Ren is on Tango’s account, and I felt an impulse to connect them in some way, especially since I’m saying Ren is ‘missing’ here. the roommates connection comes from me joking that Ren was just hiding in Tango’s attic (since he’s missing), and them being siblings is from Ren being mistaken for Tango quite easily, except with a different voice. These are both more jokes though or at least more lighthearted. If I do write this au, I might not include these haha and just have Ren actually missing

yes, Cleo and Martyn are still together because I thought it’d be funny. and the drama.

Scar and Grian are fine haha. or at least they will be. I just like how their dynamic throughout the series isn’t all sunshine and roses and wanted to include that a little!!

really wanted to put something between Jimmy and Martyn but couldn’t figure out what. coworkers?? I dunno

I was originally gonna do lines as well for Tango and Skizz’s tiers but then I drew a few and decided that would make this chart truly impossible to read .. + it’s unrequited (well, they’re just kinda desperate in a way that’s Only Them) + there’s two of them

the people in tier 2 are based off of Team BEST, Team TIES, and Team BITES. Cleo’s in tier 3 because she was originally teamed with them at the start of secret life

and yeah Big B’s not apart of the polycule yet because Tango and Skizz ‘looking for a third’ is wonderful to me (and if I do go through with the Ren and Tango thing, imagine that your crush’s exboyfriend who he thinks is missing is hiding in your attic. AND Martyn is still looking for Ren here and if I also say Jimmy’s his partner as a private eye that makes it even funnier because imagine the person you’re looking for is living in YOUR HOUSE)

don’t ask me why I included roommates and band members but not ‘friends’. just assume most people are friends dhshshhs

ALSO with Scott’s exes, the relationships aren’t necessarily romantic, I just use relationships as a term to say ‘oh, they’re important to one another’, but most of the relationships on here you can assume are romantic haha

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Hellooo id like to request matchups for Genshin Impact, MHA and Obey me! One of the brothers for Obey Me and a boi for the other two if thats okay <33

General stuff/Appearance

The names Jade, I'm female (she/her), 17 years old, straight, zodiac is pisces and mbti is intp. Im relatively short (160cm, idk what that is in feet Im European :,)) maybe 5'3??)). My parents are from Turkey but I was born in Austria so somehow I can speak 6 languages now- My skin tone is comparable to toast (lmao its a bit darker then toast but i am pretty pale), I have a diamond shaped head with sharp facial features, my hair is straight and dark brown with lighter variations in certain hair parts. I tie 'em up in a loose ponytail often tho. I let my shorter hair strains at the front do their own thingy, it's more fun xD. Brown eyes, straight nose, thin lips- all that stuff. Body type is hourglass.

Personality

One will realize pretty quickly that I am in fact not normal lmao- i'm a bit weird but i'm living for it. I'd describe myself as rather introverted though I'm not shy or timid. I just like to relax and do things my way. I have a lot of pride and discipline as well and I'm very proud of that. I'm also pretty easy to talk to if I do say so myself and laid-back as well. I have a lot of acceptance and tolerance so I am not quick to make unreasonable decisions. I'm also funny apparently (my friend's opinion. Lazy too but we don't talk about that HA-) I can snap pretty spontaneously tho if you push the right buttons. I'm still working on the anger management xD

Interests/Hobbies

If you couldn't already tell by my ability to speak a lot of languages I am really interested in them. I love to learn new stuff and expand my knowledge in general- I also LOVE listening to music (my earphones are my bebes) and sometimes drawing is pretty tempting as well. Idk why but designing / decorating is something I tend to enjoy doing even though I don't realize it. Gardening is also a hobby of mine. (Just smaller note because of my dislikes- i have no dislikes in that sense but if id had to settle on one it would be people being late to meetings or events in general, like bro u had one job-)

Just a few more smaller facts- My love language is quality time and I'm not overly experienced when it comes to relationships. I'm also more on the giving end than on the receiving end- I have trouble accepting help and kindness from others but am willing to love the other person unconditionally if I get to initiate the affection. I tend to be drawn to people that are confident and know how to handle any kind of situation.

Thank you in case my request gets accepted <33 bye byeee~

Hi Jade! Oh my goodness six languages! I can only speak English and a tiny bit of Italian. I'm trying to learn Japanese but it's slow going. Thank you for your request! I hope you like your matchups!

In Genshin Impact, I match you with...

You and Diluc are the definition of the straightlaced and weird couple. Diluc doesn't let his hair down a whole lot so having you in his life definitely brings a lot of strange energy that he hasn't had since his childhood.

He wouldn't change that for the world though. He loves listening to you talk about your interests. They're so different from all the wine business he has to deal with on a daily basis so it's a nice break.

Would like it if you sent him song recommendations. He would like to expand his music tastes a bit.

He'll listen to everything you send him and give his comments the next time he sees you.

Diluc loves spending quality time with you. I see his love languages as quality time and physical touch (he's without a doubt touch starved, please give him hugs).

He knows what it's like to feel like you don't deserve affection but he'll try to help you feel better about accepting help and kindness. He's always going to be there for you if you need him.

In My Hero Academia, I match you with...

Sero is the supportive person you need! He's going to support you unconditionally in everything you do. If he sees you need help but are struggling to ask for it, he'll approach you.

If you decline but he sees that you really wanted to say yes, he'll do little things to help out. Dinner? He's already cooking it, no need to worry. The laundry? He did that an hour ago. You want to go for a walk to clear your head? For sure!

Loves it when you speak in other languages. If you go off the headcannon that Sero speaks Spanish, he'd start replying to anything you say in another language in Spanish. Whether he understands what you've said or not, he's saying something back in Spanish.

Music is something that unites you. Please send him songs you like. He'll send some back!

Makes playlists for you that are combinations of his favourite songs, you favourites, and some that remain him of your relationship. They're his study playlists now.

In Obey Me, I match you with...

Lucifer definitely knows how to speak a bunch of languages. He's been around for who knows how long. Chances are high he speaks the same languages you do, plus a few.

Loves talking to you in other languages when his brothers are around, especially if he knows they don't speak that language. It feels more intimate (and makes his pride blow up).

Please introduce him to gardening. He would find it relaxing and it's a good break from doing paperwork for days on end.

Also please introduce him to songs that came out a little more recently than the classical music he listens to. I think he'd be a fan of rock ballads and songs with the same vibe as "Line Without a Hook" by Ricky Montgomery.

Enjoys spending quality time with you. He needs a break sometimes and there's nothing quite like having a mid-afternoon nap with someone you care about.

Lucifer likes that you have a point where you will snap. It makes him more comfortable letting you roam around the Devildom. He knows you won't let some random demon walk all over you.

[brieq]

I posted 2,360 times in 2022

That's 584 more posts than 2021!

59 posts created (3%)

2,301 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@faeriebambula

@theladyofbloodshed

@isterofimias

@gwynesta-archive

@cascadingmoon

I tagged 1,096 of my posts in 2022

#gwynriel - 89 posts

#elucien - 75 posts

#feysand - 75 posts

#nessian - 64 posts

#nesta archeron - 51 posts

#jassa - 37 posts

#lucien vanserra - 36 posts

#rhysand - 35 posts

#my asks - 34 posts

#azriel - 28 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#she couldve really used the fact that he has these regressions to connect to traumas in his past and have him criticized by feyre or someone

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

can i knee rowan whitethorn in the balls? i’m still going to give him a chance but holy shit bro. what crawled up your ass and died?💀

13 notes - Posted July 12, 2022

#4

I forgot to share this gem from my autocorrect💀

15 notes - Posted August 15, 2022

#3

Favorite sjm character?

oh damn…this is actually hard.

i hope this isn’t cheating but

TOG: Dorian and Yrene

ACOTAR: Rhys and Nesta

i can’t pick just one😩

16 notes - Posted August 5, 2022

#2

I had a thought...

You know the scene right after Feyre gave birth where Rhys and Nesta have that little moment of reconciliation?

It obviously was a powerful moment because they finally seem to be laying their weapons down with each other and they finally see each other as in-laws in that moment. But I also think there’s some symbolism in this moment too.

Rhys gets on his knees and bows to Nesta because he is obviously extremely grateful to her because his wife and son are no longer in danger. But then Nesta bends down too, I’ve seen some people interpret this as her bowing to him but I don’t think so. She’s going down to him to look him in the face, it says in the book that she studied what layed in his expression when she took his face in her hands. I saw it more as her getting down to face him then bowing. (Also why would she need to bow in this scene?💀) 

I think it’s symbolic in the sense that they are literally on the same level (both on the ground facing each other) which correlates them into finally seeing eye to eye metaphorically now. They see each other differently now and now their dynamic is going to be different in future books (hopefully). I think this would make sense because in the last 2 chapters we see they are finally having more comfortable convos (or at least alluding to that) when he asked to see parts of the rite and gave her and Cassian the House of Wind. 

18 notes - Posted February 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

my acotar unpopular opinions

I got bored so, i decided to make this, with some of these i use the word “unpopular” lightly 

i love all the archeron sisters 

nesta is my favorite archeron sister

i love feyre on her own and w/ rhys however, i do think acosf did her dirty at times

speaking of acosf...feysand was done dirty in this book. like what was the point of putting them through more emotional turmoil, especially feyre. it also went back on both feyre and rhys character decisions made in maf and war (im not saying that were acting ooc though) feysand deserved a peaceful pregnancy, which couldve happened in the background while nesta’s story still happened. 

which leads me to my next point, nesta deserved to not have her story be overshadowed by that shit baby plot 

the intervention scene should’ve only been nesta and her sisters 

my favorite characters are nesta, rhys, gwyn, honorable mentions are lucien, eris, cassian and feyre

this is probably rlly unpopular after acosf but my favorite bat boy is still rhys

azriel is my least favorite of the bat boys 

i dont think tamlin is a bad person and id like to see him get better for himself and others. i think he should get an arc

technically all the acotar characters are morally grey (well maybe except gwyn, emerie and tarquin..lucien too i guess)

i know there’s debates on whether rhys can be considered one but I think he is. the issue is sjm wrote the acotar world very black and white. sometimes she picks and chooses when her characters are allowed to be morally grey and this happens a lot with rhys (honestly with tamlin and nesta..etc. practically where we see odd double standards) this honeslty does a disservice to rhys’s character and the others as well

i’m not saying that tamlin didnt abuse feyre because he did but it’s pretty clear that he gets over demonized a bit

rhys may be one of my favs but im fully aware that he’s been abusive at times and isnt not a perfect character (clearly). i dont think he was ever meant to be technically.

i feel like a lot of the male characters trauma gets swept under the rug. (Lucien, Rhys, Cassian and even Tamlin) idk about azriel yet tbh

for some reason im obsessed with vassa and jurian..honestly the band of exiles in general. i cant wait to see more of them

i hope elain ends up with lucien and the band of exiles

i know a lot of ppl hate the idea of nesta or gwyn getting to some degree with rhys but i think it’ll be good for him bc they’d give it too him straight (maybe even elain tbh)

you know how cassian and feyre have special friendship as well as nesta and azriel...i’d like to see that with rhys and someone (most likely gwyn, i think she makes more sense than elain..plus they have more in common)

im not anti any characters. i like all of them but ill still call them out on their shit when warranted 

my least favorite character in general is amren tho

the most believable friendships in the IC are the bat boys (rhys, cassian and azriel) and cassian and feyre (maybe feyre and mor)

i do think azriel and rhys are in a rough patch atm tho (doesnt mean that they dont love each other tho)

id like to see feyre make friends outside of the IC (im not saying that mor has been terrible to her but she should branch out)

the valkyries definitely have a healthier full group

19 notes - Posted July 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[pwblogarchive]

January 2008

January 3, 2008

“notes on change.”

i hate explaining my own interpretations to people. id rather you come up with your own- but this one seems to be pretty glaring....

there is a distinct difference between the idea "seasons change, but people dont" and the idea "everyone changes". this difference is simply the connotations of the two. in the former: the idea is brought forth that there are certain parts of you that are inherently there. forever. whether they are a part of your DNA or how you were raised- they are so deep and solidly rooted they cannot change. to me these are your ideals, your morality, your internal monologue. they remain constant though are defined differently as your mind and heart mature. to simplify, people who are kind have something switched on within them that will not change. on the other extreme malicious people will always be malicious. not to say there isnt gray area between the two- where someone who is kind can act maliciously and vice versa. obviously there are more rare examples where something can impact someone in such a tremendous way that it will cause a deep change in them. these remain constant through celebrity, through tragedy, through happiness, through loss. i can feel certain things in myself and ways that i know i will always feel- no matter what else changes around me. if you read my actual diary entries from when i was 12 to now, while the language and subject matter has changed- and hopefully has gotten a bit better. my subconscious impacting me and my decisions seems to remain faithful. however, what was meant by the latter "everyone changes, i used to be tiny", is the idea of growing up. honestly, i am not who i was a year ago or 3 years ago or 10 years ago. i think i would hate myself if i never changed. this is an experiment more than anything. if new cultures, people, and art didnt impact me and change me than this would be fraudulent. i hope most of these changes are for the better, though i know i am human and make mistakes. sometimes i turn right when i should have turned left. but anything you loved or hated about me from the beginning have not changed- these are the things that make us each different from each other and either magnetize or polarize from others.

Posted by xoat 1:12 AM

January 3, 2008

“cantsleepcantsleepcantsleep”

nothing lasts forever, except the earth and sky.

i should have become a farmer.

Posted by xoat 4:07 AM

January 3, 2008

“its easy to get older not so much wiser”

the light splashes in and out. its almost violent. everything rational inside of me tells me that its the dull white of a voicemail. but my eyes are playing tricks on me. i see it purple textured velvet. the tv is blaring whatever. i can see light is sneaking in the cracks everywhere of this house. like vermin. take a vote, the eyes have it. there is too much space here. between me and everything else in this room. i wish i had a habit bad or not just to pass the time.

Posted by xoat 5:13 AM

January 14, 2008 9:53 PM"

im reading what you have to say. following your links. sitting on your front lawn.

Posted by a boy's lifeat 3:12 AM219 comments:

January 18, 2008

“a sidenote”

i guess some people got the idea that the companies who created many of the products on here are paying me to advertise for them. well as much as id like a years supply of lawrys or steve jobs to send me that insane ass macbook touch prototype- i have a feeling i wont be getting either. honestly, im not that important. though if someone wants to put a word in id love to get this sick versace interior design on my private jet (oh yeah i dont have a jet either so if you could throw that in too). anyway, this blog is for fun. it is pretty shallow. its about design and wishes and pictures. not so much words, grammar or any deeper sense of understanding. this is the shit i think is cool some of it i have most of it i cant find or afford.

" catharsis20 said...

woah..

kind of snuck out of my body for a moment.

kind of cool.

lack of sleep is wonderful.

you should try it sometime.

i don't think he cares if the world agrees with him.

i don't count this as cynism

but i wish everyone would get over their materialism..

as stupid or as useless as that might be.

'go to sleep, kid. no one's listening.'

i doubt he reads your comments.

January 19, 2008

rarely do i do anything that involves me getting up from a computer keyboard. in this case trav has been staying at my house for a week and we decided to do a collection of visual art. each piece in a 100 percent collaboration between trav and i. i doubt anyone will ever see these.

Posted by a boy's lifeat 4:50 AM219 comments:

January 21, 2008

things have changed for me...

but thats ok.

Posted by a boy's lifeat 4:20 PM

January 21, 2008

how insane would it have been to be here

(Broken link to a Michael Jackson performance on YouTube)

like does this dude breathe oxygen? listen to the applause after he busts out the moonwalk for the first time.

Posted by a boy's lifeat 4:24 PM164 comments:

January 23, 2008

“i guess the news has me off level. rest in peace. honestly, afraid. i cant ever sleep either.”

Put the the planets in swing

Make jupiter sing

The afternoon light

Ignites

The back of my head

Spend years trying to cloud our head and not feel a thing

Just to turn around and erase the clouds so we can remember everything

Throw handcuffs on that boy

When the check comes he never pays

His cheekbones carve my moods

He shakes like a leaf

He's clicking like an old answering machine

He howls at the moon

He's breathes wet thru insect eyes

Canyon lights at night chase away the boring days

Talk you sober

Did yr husband pick that gold band

And I don't worry about death becayse I've seen the date I'm gonna die and its so far away.

From my blackberry: thanks for coming out to the obama event. Very special night for us.

[acethatlovesdinos]

Tw: vent, female body dysmorphia? (Idk I don't have an official diagnosis). description of feminine anatomy (boobs). I'm not asking for pity, I'm just spitting words out because I feel the need to make them known. A confession, of sorts. And maybe it'll help some of you feel less alone in your own journey.

~~~~~~

I'm not pretty.

I'm aware of the fact. Never really have been. Not exactly the textbook definition of "attractive" when I look in the mirror.

I dont feel unloved, I think that's a different thing. I know i have caring friends and family who have my back, but it's still not quite what Im getting at.

I hate mirrors. Specifically the big ones in the bathroom before I shower. I look at myself, my eyes taking in every flaw.

I used to be bigger, you see, and I do feel much better having lost a significant amount of weight but that in itself brought upon an entirely new type of insecurity.

At least when I was a larger size my shape was "normal," per se, in that i expected and understood that physique well.

I had gotten a gastric sleeve surgery (make stomach smaller so you can absorb less food, thus losing weight in a more "natural" manner). Considering my morbidly obese state at the time, it was a necessary adjustment for the sake of my own health.

Dont get me wrong, I'm happy with what I've done. It's been a massive change and I feel so much better from both a physical and mental perspective.

but oh boy, I never could have expected the kind of insecurity that accompanied rapid weightloss.

it was incredible for a while, watching my clothes fit looser and feeling like I had more energy. my mental health improved drastically. truly, this was one of the best decisions I ever made, and I dont think Id change it if given the chance. I do want to make that clear, my current feelings are just a bit of a side effect.

quickly shedding pounds means that your body doesnt really get a chance to re-absorb that loose skin. what once was round, fatty pudge has now become loose, dangling flab. it hangs over my waist, accentuating my gut and making it still look larger than it is. Unfortunately, the weight I've lost isnt enough to properly constitute those surgeries to remove the loose skin that exists, so I'm sort of just...stuck with it. Im still certainly not skinny by any means, but I feel as though I'd be a size or two smaller if that extra flab wasn't there.

My hips and thighs didnt change a whole lot, so I remain with a bottom-heavy, pear shaped form with a waist several inches behind my hips. pants are a struggle to find a comfortable fit as a result.

It doesnt really strike much thought at first, but I was pretty quick to remember that breasts are composed mostly of fat and soft tissue. One of the first places to start showing a decrease in size? yeah. My chest wasn't particularly huge in proportion to my body anyway, and they only got smaller. that's a blow to the self-esteem if ive ever seen one. ever try shopping for a 40A bra? they aren't very common.

Oh, and what I said before about loose skin? that applies there too. there's no shape, it just sort of...sags pathetically. it could almost be compared to the "boobs" of an obese man with the way they sit, and the thought disgusts me.

all in all im sagging, loose, and not what someone would call a pretty sight...ever. It makes me fear the longevity and even possibility of future relationships, because who would want something like this?

my only saving grace is when I take a closer look at myself. Look closer in the mirror, look at my face. that seems to be the only part of myself im mostly okay with.

I've got a soft, round face, dusted with a natural blush and a gentle chin. my ears arent too big, and ive got a little dimple when my mouth moves the right way.

pale blue eyes provide the only pop of color on my otherwise pale, boring body, a cloudy shade of slate with a ring of green around the pupil. I dont want to sound basic, bit they really do seem to change under the sun. hooded eyelids occasionally cause makeup to be frustrating, but i only wear the stuff on special occasions anyway so it's not exactly a huge deal for me.

My glasses help to frame my face, a cute but necessary prop(bc i am blind lol), with the added bonus of helping to hide the tired circles under my eyes.

A lot of people seem insecure about their noses, but mine has been mostly unproblematic throughout my experience with it.

I've had a surprising number of people comment on my "perfect lips" (a few ladies who helped me with makeup), bringing up the defined Cupid's Bow and naturally plump shape, a soft pink hue that exists all on its own. I never really thought much of it until someone told me.

My hair has always been a fickle thing, and I've had a bit if a love-hate relationship with it until fairly recently. I've found that I like it bobbed at my chin, where its light enough that the natural curls can have a strong effect. the most product I tend to use is this nice-smelling leave-in conditioner, which just helps to tone down the frizziness. I love the way the curls frame my chin and jawline, and it coils into these thick, beautiful springs after it dries from a shower. it's so soft and I love to run my fingers through it when it's been freshly cleaned. The current color is a dark purple, that looks almost black indoors, but it nearly lights up when the sun hits it. its natural color is a deep brown, and i still do like it, I just thought a bit of color would be nice for once.

Ive got moles and marks everywhere, but that's never bothered me. the little brown spots are fun, and a few of them on my arm can even be traced into a perfect arch.

the most unique aspect of my appearance is this...little patch of tiny moles in the center of my throat. The patch is only about a centimeter in full area, and it's covered in little raised brown bumps. Oddly enough, this part of my body has never been something I felt ashamed of, as the little patch of marks were one of the many things that made me, me.

So maybe my body isnt perfect. it's not the ideal shape, nor size, nor whatever else, but I guess there's some things about it that I dont mind so much.

[cicada-candy]

"Robbie doesn’t know who he is trying to convince – himself or Gabe’s shift teacher. Mrs Lai has the expression of someone who has had to sit enough children through conversations like this. He catches her glancing towards the box of tissues on her desk. Her eyes are dry."

oh wow they uh. they lose a lot of people in demon attacks. and those people have. kids. who have teachers. mhm. yep. ow.

"When he doesn’t answer for long enough, Mrs Lai nods to herself, one sharp movement like she’s putting a decisive dot at the end of a sentence."

they lose a lot of people.

"See, another benefit. Rangers don’t have to worry about security. Yeah. They only have to worry about catastrophic brain damage. The only type of brain damage worth having, if you think about it."

oh okay Why. Would Eli Notice That Specifically. i mean. i fuckin know why coz hes a mean with very high-up friends ("friends")

"It’s like going through the motions, even though he’s never seen one of these suits up close before. Or maybe it’s just not that hard to figure out. Like in the academy, he has the vague sense of what to do next, and next, and next, and it all breaks apart if he thinks about it too hard, so he lets the instinct drive him forward in an unknown direction and hopes it will all turn out alright in the end.

Did he watch his dad suit up at some point? He must have"

something about Robbie repeatedly attributing Eli in his head to memories of his dad is Heartbreakinggg and god knows eli might use that deliberately later but hnnngh :((( poor kid just wants Anything

" “There’s still a few of us around from the good old days, yeah,” Canelo slaps his massive hand on Robbie’s shoulder and pulls him to the centre of the room. He makes ‘good old days’ sound like a curse."

ohhohohohhoh theres still 👁️👁️ people around from the first run 👁️👁️

"When he looks, Cho gives them a thumbs-up from across the room. He always looks three coffees past bedtime, but he’s been extra jittery today. Even now, he’s gesturing around the screens with an open can of an energy drink and the tech next to him might brain him with her power tool if he spills anything."

damn he just like me fr

also yk be careful or Be Concussed yk

"Killjoy."

Eli ur lunacy is showing

"Robbie does his best to cooperate with the techs, but he hates being prodded and he hates people looking at him, and rather quickly he finds himself hating the way the circuitry against his skin heats up when the switches get flipped. You can feel that? Shouldn’t he? Is something already going wrong?"

OHOHOAHDASHKJASHDUOWH YESSSSS WE ARE INTO QUESTIONABLE ANATOMY ALREADYY LETS GOOOO

“You’re gonna be alright,” he says, sounding as confident as usual but with a very different set to his eyebrows. “I will see a seizure coming before you even get a tingle. We’re not taking any chances, we’ll pull you out the second there’s a blip on the radar, okay?” He puts his hands on the shoulder guards on either side of Robbie’s neck. “I’m not getting you killed.”

:( Choooooo. They make me So Emo he really just wants the slightly-unethical best for him

"You’re doing great, kid. Keep it up. You’re nearly there."

nice work Eli, if i didnt know better id say you were sincere, and unfortunatley Robbie Does Not Know Better

"he sees himself carrying Gabe on his back through the flooded ruins of Los Angeles, the face of the firefighter urging him through the break in the fence, Gabe strapped into the seat of the first car he bought."

:( they are!! so sweet!!!

"On the other side – there are no directions, everything is happening forward and all at once, but there is his side and the other side

– somebody gets punched in the stomach, and his dad is stepping in front of him, and a helicopter barrels down from the sky. He does his best not to look – impulse triggers, Dr Montesi said. That’s how you lose the thread."

yeah this might be a time where You Think About It actually

just a smidge

"Fuckin’ A, kid! A voice whoops like there’s someone standing right next to him".

concern.jpg

but also

i could use this 👁️👁️

"Oh god. He can see through the jaeger’s head cameras. He’s standing in the middle of a concrete room, and he is the jaeger, and then there’s a third view – he’s inside the jaeger’s cockpit, watching the status displays light up with something that feels almost like happiness blooming in his chest."

oh dude you are In It Now asafshgdfshagjdf

"Excuse you, that’s my side."

and

"Three bodies. The third view settles in among the others, unmoving but undeniably there. He’s pretty certain Cho talked about this – normally, there are three views, but Robbie doesn’t have a co-pilot.

Don’t think about it too hard.

Are you--?

Relax, we’re one and the same, yeah?"

AAAAAAAAH???? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH???????!

I DONT EVEN HAVE COHEERRENT THOUGHT FOR THIS THERES JUST SCREAMING

"Pretty cool, huh?

It—it really is pretty cool. He’s really doing it, and other than the quick bursts of heat along the circuit lines there is barely any discomfort."

!!! They are both big dorks piloting a big robot and fanboying about it /j

" “Good,” he croaks out. He sounds a little manic."

UH OH THIS IS MAKING ME THIIIIINK ABOUT GHOST DRIFTIIIING AGAAAAIN

"Canelo nods and pushes the mic from his comm link to speak into it among the noise: “Pilot confirms, vision clear,” and the realisation hits Robbie like a freight train.

He’s piloting a fucking jaeger."

DAMN RIGHT HE IS LETS GOOO

(There's no time to explain, get in the jaeger)

Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - perception shift

“They, um. Mapped all the seizure points. The risk is minimal. I just don’t know how long it will take, so—”

Robbie doesn’t know who he is trying to convince – himself of Gabe’s shift teacher. Mrs Lai has the expression of someone who has had to sit enough children through conversations like this. He catches her glancing towards the box of tissues on her desk. Her eyes are dry.

“Of course. Gabe is more than welcome to stay in the children’s centre as long as you are away.” Mrs Lai winces, just a little. “But, just in case—”

“Just in case,” Robbie repeats like it’s a spell.

“We don’t have any next of kin information. Is there anyone...?”

He sat through a four-hour long psychiatric evaluation last night. He’s not going to break down in a teacher’s office. You cried in the shower like a little girl. And now he’s fine. Great. Can we get a move on? When he doesn’t answer for long enough, Mrs Lai nods to herself, one sharp movement like she’s putting a decisive dot at the end of a sentence.

“I will make sure to schedule Lisa for a wrap-around shift. She and Gabriel get along really well.”

He opens his mouth to say: that won’t be necessary, and shuts it again. Just in case.

Mrs Lai recommends that Robbie leaves through the staff entrance to avoid bumping into Gabe, then insists when Robbie wants to see him before he goes.

“It’s already halfway through the music class,” she says. Not unkindly. “I saw you tell him you will pick him up as normal. Let’s stick to that plan, shall we?”

Robbie never lies to Gabe. What is he doing? What the hell did he agree to? Only the best chance at making something out for yourself. Come on, move it, let’s go let’s go let’s go! The weird mix of dread and excitement makes him too queasy to even consider breakfast. He sits on the stairs at the back of the children’s centre with his head in his hands for who knows how long, until enough people passing give him weird looks that he has to go or attract security.

See, another benefit. Rangers don’t have to worry about security. Yeah. They only have to worry about catastrophic brain damage. The only type of brain damage worth having, if you think about it.

Robbie has been living out of the academy sweatpants for several weeks and the way the undersuit clings to his skin feels a little suffocating. It’s heavier than he expected, too. It’s all the circuitry. Pull the hip plates up or the techs will do it for you, and they ain’t gentle. The neck brace clicks in place, just push it together, it won’t break.

It’s like going through the motions, even though he’s never seen one of these suits up close before. Or maybe it’s just not that hard to figure out. Like in the academy, he has the vague sense of what to do next, and next, and next, and it all breaks apart if he thinks about it too hard, so he lets the instinct drive him forward in an unknown direction and hopes it will all turn out alright in the end.

Did he watch his dad suit up at some point? He must have.

Each active jaeger has its own dedicated drivesuit room, most at the top of the dome with the detached Conn-Pods waiting to be lowered onto the mech, and Cherno Alpha’s right off the walkway, feet away from the open hatch to it’s built-in cockpit. Hell Charger doesn’t have one set up – yet – so the techs have rigged one of the maintenance rooms a level below the access point with all the monitoring systems. At least a dozen pairs of eyes fix on Robbie as soon as he walks out from behind the stack of boxes serving as his changing room. Somebody takes his phone and clothes out of his arms – he meant to text Gabe before turning it off, is it too late to—of course it’s too late to back out, don’t be a pussy.

“Damn,” the head tech lifts up his goggles to take a better look at him. He’s a big guy, tall and broad and clearly used to people giving him a wide berth. “Ain’t this a blast from the past.”

Robbie swallows around the growing lump in his throat. “Yeah?”

The man reaches out for a handshake. At least the undersuit hides how sweaty Robbie’s palms are all of the sudden. “It’s Canelo. I used to run power routes for The Charger back in the day.”

Oh. Oh! “R-Reyes.” Don’t get star-struck, he’s just a wrench. “You knew my--?”

“There’s still a few of us around from the good old days, yeah,” Canelo slaps his massive hand on Robbie’s shoulder and pulls him to the centre of the room. He makes ‘good old days’ sound like a curse. “We’ll catch up once this whole thing shakes out, hm? I assume Cho talked you through the procedure.”

Robbie nods to confirm. When he looks, Cho gives them a thumbs-up from across the room. He always looks three coffees past bedtime, but he’s been extra jittery today. Even now, he’s gesturing around the screens with an open can of an energy drink and the tech next to him might brain him with her power tool if he spills anything.

“Stand still, limbs apart,” Canelo instructs Robbie, pointing to the markers on the floor. As soon as he takes position, he’s surrounded by people carrying pieces of the drivesuit armour. It’s not a full set; just enough to ensure Cho can monitor his brain activity. The uneven weight distribution makes him feel half-dressed.

“We disconnected the joint motors.” Canelo’s booming voice carries over the noise of the drills screwing the pauldrons to the chest plate. “You’ll only be able to move the head and upper torso after you plug in. It should lighten the neural load, keep you from going under.”

Killjoy.

Robbie does his best to cooperate with the techs, but he hates being prodded and he hates people looking at him, and rather quickly he finds himself hating the way the circuitry against his skin heats up when the switches get flipped. You can feel that? Shouldn’t he? Is something already going wrong?

The hot spiderweb along his spine cools down almost immediately. Huh. Maybe it’s just the initial power surge.

“Right,” Cho appears in front of him like he wasn’t just elbows deep in a mess of cables leading from the monitoring station to the back of Robbie’s drivesuit. His gloves are black from grease and some of it made it up his forearms. He’s got a surprising amount of know-how in this department for someone ostensibly in charge of the biology side of things. “Everyone else will be watching the feed up on the bridge. Canelo got a new helmet prepped; we’re going to modify the Conn-Pod so you don’t have to initialise the drift yourself.” He peels the gloves off to take said helmet from another tech. Yet another wraps the thick cable running from it’s top on a pole to hook it directly above Robbie’s head. Now that he's noticed, the whole ceiling looks like it's crawling with tentacles. Cables. They're just cables.

Here we go. It’s happening. Cho hands him the helmet and it’s honestly a miracle Robbie doesn’t immediately drop it. Keep it together. Think about the—the medical insurance or whatever. Come on, you’re panicking, do the breathing thing. He does, and Cho must notice, because his expression turns into something... guilty.

“You’re gonna be alright,” he says, sounding as confident as usual but with a very different set to his eyebrows. “I will see a seizure coming before you even get a tingle. We’re not taking any chances, we’ll pull you out the second there’s a blip on the radar, okay?” He puts his hands on the shoulder guards on either side of Robbie’s neck. “I’m not getting you killed.”

Robbie wonders if he feels like he did when speaking to Mrs Lai. He licks his lips, but there’s nothing to say, so he just nods instead. Cho nods back before stepping away, and then all there is left to do is to pull the helmet over his face and hope like hell he wasn’t lying.

The relay gel immediately washes down the HUD, the display flickering to life. He can tell when each circuit activates by the hot flashes travelling along his skin and he has to force his breathing even again. You’re doing great, kid. Keep it up. You’re nearly there.

“Alright, everyone to position,” Cho calls, muted through the helmet. “Prepare for drift protocol.”

Oh god, he’s going to throw up. You’re fine. Stay on the surface and don’t go chasing whatever you see, and you’ll be just fine.

“Drift activating in three, two, one—”

The washed-out blue pulls him in like a whirlwind, completely out of his body. It’s like travelling at high speed past monochrome images – he sees himself carrying Gabe on his back through the flooded ruins of Los Angeles, the face of the firefighter urging him through the break in the fence, Gabe strapped into the seat of the first car he bought. On the other side – there are no directions, everything is happening forward and all at once, but there is his side and the other side – somebody gets punched in the stomach, and his dad is stepping in front of him, and a helicopter barrels down from the sky. He does his best not to look – impulse triggers, Dr Montesi said. That’s how you lose the thread. Each scene flashes for maybe a fraction of a second, long enough only to register before moving on, and on, and on, until both sides crash into each other and—

Fuckin’ A, kid! A voice whoops like there’s someone standing right next to him. No, don’t focus on that. The egghead’s talking.

“—process successful!”

Robbie blinks. He realises he’s bent his neck forward at some point, and when he lifts his chin, it’s like the helmet suddenly weighs several tons. There’s a loud creak outside the room, followed by a second of stunned silence inside of it. Robbie blinks the blue away to see a tech run to poke her head outside the door.

Cho waves a hand, and Canelo steps into Robbie’s field of vision. “Any bright spots? Nausea?”

Without thinking, Robbie shakes his head no. More creaking from the outside, like a bridge settling. The lookout tech shouts something in Cantonese and Cho’s focused expression breaks into a grin.

“No signs of kick back,” he says. “Hey, Reyes! Can you shrug?”

Slowly, it dawns on Robbie what’s happening. He lifts his shoulders, the extra weight becoming more natural by the second. Someone cheers. Watch this. Next time he blinks, he’s looking at the hangar like he’s standing on the access walkway, and—

Oh god. He can see through the jaeger’s head cameras. He’s standing in the middle of a concrete room, and he is the jaeger, and then there’s a third view – he’s inside the jaeger’s cockpit, watching the status displays light up with something that feels almost like happiness blooming in his chest.

Excuse you, that’s my side.

When he blinks back to the control room, nobody seems to be talking to him for all the noise of multiple people speaking all at once. He blinks again, and the LOCCENT bridge seems to be within reach of his arm. The more he does it, the easier it gets to hold both views, like he’s inhabiting two bodies at once—

Three bodies. The third view settles in among the others, unmoving but undeniably there. He’s pretty certain Cho talked about this – normally, there are three views, but Robbie doesn’t have a co-pilot.

Don’t think about it too hard.

Are you--?

Relax, we’re one and the same, yeah?

Robbie focuses on his real body. Behind the monitoring equipment, Cho is frowning, but doesn’t look concerned so much as—

He’s fucking thrilled, that’s what he is. He wanted a solo drift and here you are, drifting solo. Enjoy the moment.

He wishes he could see The Charger move when he does. He’s seen the footage from his accident, but the miniscule shift of the giant head was almost imperceptible. Now, he can feel the hydraulics under the steel hull like he can feel the way his muscles strain when lifting a kettlebell.

Pretty cool, huh?

It—it really is pretty cool. He’s really doing it, and other than the quick bursts of heat along the circuit lines there is barely any discomfort. His bad eye feels a little hot, but it’s no worse than having a bright light shone into it during medical exams.

He’s not going to die. Told you. He’s drifting, and it’s working, and Robbie isn’t going to die.

“Reyes, talk to me,” Canelo taps on the side of his helmet. “How’re you doing?”

“Good,” he croaks out. He sounds a little manic. “Good, is it really moving?”

Yeah she is!

“Yep, we’ll get you the side-by-side later. Medical wants to know if your vision is clear in both views.”

He doesn’t even have to blink to be sure. “It’s clear,” he confirms.

Canelo nods and pushes the mic from his comm link to speak into it among the noise: “Pilot confirms, vision clear,” and the realisation hits Robbie like a freight train.

He’s piloting a fucking jaeger.

[aspecpplarebeautiful]

i think im aroace. i fit some of the criteria and generally i just have a very complicated and lengthy relationship with romance. im usually romance favorable except when im not. sometimes i feel like i cant be arospec because im not the same as my friends who are also aro. its somewhat disheartening because ive spent so much of my life wanting romance and wanting relationships and wanting to experience dating culture and i thought id get to have it one day because im capable of liking people sometimes but i cant handle it when someone likes me back and i know it cant be commitment issues because i have absolutely no qualms committing to platonic friendships and moderately sized life decisions but theres just something in the way of me having a normal allo love experience and i know this identity is something i should be proud of and sometimes it is! i absolutely love looking through the tags on tumblr and i love that i have a unique way of experiencing feelings and this label really does make me so happy! but i cant help but yearn for a simpler existence. why cant it just be a case of liking a guy called daniel and then him liking me back and then we date and break up and then i go for a one-night stand with a girl called melissa and then we date and break up and date again and i meet her parents and i tell her i love her and then we grow old together. ive just always wanted something straight out of a tv show or book or whatever but the world just looks so much narrower now and it feels so much harder to find someone that it can work out with. i dont know. i hate amatonormativity. and sorry for the negative energy. i just kinda needed to get this off my chest. thank you for the safe space.

For being different than your aro friends, it's important to remember the aro spectrum is really diverse. There's a lot of different ways to be aro. So when trying to figure out if the label is right for you or not, I wouldn't factor that in too much, instead I'd focus more on things like is the label useful for you? Do you feel a connection to it? Does alloromantic feel wrong to you? Because being alloromantic encompasses so many things, there's so many ways to fall outside that mold. So remember this is your journey, keep asking yourself what makes sense for you.

It's OK to have negative feelings about possibly being aro, or about not being able to have that allo-normative romance you thought you would. This can be a big adjustment for some people, not everyone can just say 'oh I'm aromantic and I'm going to live a different life than I thought I did/not have a lot of experiences I thought I would' and not be affected by that (some people do have different experiences, but it's really not unreasonable to have to work at dealing with that.)

Sometimes you need to mourn the life and experiences you thought you'd have. Sometimes it takes a little while to reframe your goals and expectations in life. Sometimes I like to say being aro often means forging your own path rather than following the one laid out for you, that can be really exciting learning about yourself and figuring out what you do excited by and want to do, but it's scary too. And it's OK to have all these feelings.

I think what you're doing right now though going through tumblr tags and finding a side of aro that you enjoy is really great and really good first step. Finding some blogs you like or some aro-centric media may help too (look into books and podcast lists, because that seems to be where the most aro characters are these days). This is always helpful, no matter where you land, because it just normalizes being aro, and makes it feel a lot less scary.

The other thing is just take your time. You're figuring out a lot of things right now, you don't have to rush anything. Things will get easier as you figure more out and you start to understand yourself better.

Feel free to send in another ask if you have more questions or want to talk more.

All the best!

[generallybrontidefeelings]

Stressed

Rating: NC-17

A/N: Brought to you by this post. I'm tired and sleepy and don't want to make any decisions. The degree is an actual MS you can get from American University in DC. U of Tennessee’s anthropology dept. hosts what’s called a body farm. It's a lab for forensic pathology students. Do NOT I repeat DO NOT look up pictures.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader, Marcus Pike x you

Summary: Marcus Pike is an associate faculty member at your forensics college. You ask him to be your second reader for your thesis, even though you have a huge crush on him. Nothing is better than something, right? By the time you pass your exam, you're so pent up you could scream.

Warnings: cadaver talk, pining, age difference, some power dynamics?, annoying college talk, sex, dirty talk, a God awful metaphor curtesy of Blanche Devereaux, 39

“Take a deep breath.”

You huff in a small shallow breath. Then let it out, and take in a longer, fuller one.

“Now let it out.” You let your cheeks puff up as cool air streams past your lips. “You’ve made huge improvements, and you’ve studied hard. The paper exam will be easy, and the oral will be a cinch.”

You gulp. “I know. It’s just...pre-show jitters, you know?”

He gives you a full smile, and flips the document shut. You hand him the binder clip, accidentally brushing his fingers when you do.

"Anything else I can do for you?"

You swallow, fiddling with your paper edge. God you feel like a twelve year old. You're fucking twenty-seven and about to apply for the FBI, why are you such a sap? He’s not available. Not even remotely. He will be gone in a year, back to the Bureau. There is no reason to nurse a crush. And you curse yourself for asking a man you’re attracted to - you, idiot, idiot! - to spend more time with you. Even if it is reading your dull chapter.

"No, I have everything I need, thanks."

"Then scoot. I have to read like...thirty pages of Tanner's chapter before he gets here."

You pull your bag to your shoulder. "you're not going to get that far," you scoff. The tensing in your shoulders relaxes a little when you stand to leave.

"We'll see," he says. He opens the door of his office for you. You glance back once more, and he's still in the doorway watching you go. "See you tomorrow."

"See you." Your mind swirls back and forth between thoughts of Mr. Pike, your thesis, Pike, your oral defence, your paper exam in two days, Marcus crossing his ankles in his reading chair. And you walk. Straight ahead, not looking back. But when you get to the door handle you turn around. And he's still there. Watching.

You've never been so stressed in your life.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

You met Marcus Pike on a muggy afternoon in August deep in the heart of Tennessee. The air warped off the pavement as you drove together to the School of Anthropology to visit your cadaver lying relaxed and prostrate in the middle of a fenced field. The air is already warm, then lightning flashes in the clouds to your right, and plopping rain drops scatter across the lawn, and dampens A-0017’s second hand suit. His raisinette hands lie against the grass almost like he’s communing with the earth. You watched the water hit his face, and permanently closed eyelids, and shaved head.

You had no business being so fidgety while kneeling next to a cadaver. Agent Marcus Pike and the facility director chat a couple feet away, leaving you to your business with A-0017. Pike had never been to the school’s mysterious forensics lab, even though he had plenty of time to when he was earning his own masters. That’s what he said in his email to you three weeks earlier. He’d heard a first-year student was running a fibrous material experiment and asked to tag along. And you said yes. Why not? He was faculty. It wasn’t unheard of. His email was so polite too, letting you know if you weren’t comfortable he understood. Pike. The name rattled a memory somewhere. So you emailed him back, and the next morning he sent you his itinerary: he would meet you in Tennessee. He’d even pay for the rental car.

You sent your advisor a quick text to ask if he was ‘crazy.’ She’d sent back the laughing emoji. No, she said, Marcus Pike isn’t a crazy. You’ll like him.

You did like him. He was waiting for you at the Hertz desk, and heat licked up your skin when you realized - he was striking. He was the type of man you’d make eyes at in a bar without any hope of even getting a number. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, and he had a softness brought on by a light scruff that didn’t hide his dimples. You barely registered that he was apologizing for not getting to introduce himself before flying out, but promised he was who he said he was. Even pulled out his credentials.

“Bureau?” you said to his badge. “I thought you were an associate professor?” You want to smack yourself.

Oh, “I am,” he replied. He dug in his wallet and pulled out a campus ID that matched yours. “I’m taking an interim year. I thought teaching would be a nice way to ease into DC life.”

Now he was here, sweating under the storm clouds while watching you unbutton A-0017’s shirt, and half listening to the director tell him all about how they kept the lawn looking green despite, ahem, fluids. You sternly told A-0017 to be on their best behavior while you pulled their shirt back to examine some fiber swatches stapled to his rubbery chest.

On the flight back Pike asked you all about your thesis plans. You stuttered as you began. He waited, patient. You were writing on how the FBI could contribute to cultural repatriation efforts internationally by returning art pieces. Do you know what it could do to boost scholarly opportunities? The doors it could open! Why put it in cold storage when it could revitalize movements? Art breathes, after all. You were exhausted by the time the plane landed. Both from answering questions, and from keeping a steadily building tension under wraps. You hoped he didn’t notice how you crossed your legs.

“I’d love to read it.” He handed your backpack down from the overhead bin.

“Maybe you should be my second reader.” You got serious when his face perked up. “I still need one.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

That was nine months ago.

Your exams are in a week, and instead of thinking about preparing, all you can think of is that once everything is turned in, you probably won’t see Marcus again. He’s been your anchor these last months, and you’ve gotten used to his solid presence and encouraging platitudes. You cup your hot cheeks because it’s a dirty thought.

He lets you work in his office for a couple hours a week every week. The crammed little space is tight quarters, but he makes room for your laptop anyway. Sometimes you worked together heads bent for full time. Sometimes he read pages from your thesis, and you help him grade some papers from his first-year art history course. And sometimes you drink three pm coffee together and don’t work at all. It’s your favorite time of the week. The glow his praise gives you is embarrassing. And he’s an easy companion - nope, colleague. Your heart beats and your mouth waters every time you’re fifteen feet from his office door. The cold door knob jolts you took. You harbor a secret. Keep it warm in your belly. It swirls hungrily deep in you.

But now it’s a problem. You’re so distracted. Every time you leave his office, you’re tense from want. Your body is already over-caffeinated and achy from sitting in hard library chairs so long. But you keep going. Every time an anxious heat lights up the alarms in your head your instinct is to ask him what to do. You have to rest your hands in your head and remind yourself: he isn’t your babysitter, he’s a grown man who doesn’t have boundless time to tell you what to do. You have to figure it out yourself. Even if you really just want him to tell you what this or that section needs, is the title here misleading, is it lunch time, do you think the tone here is condescending?

What do you think? What do you want it to look like?

You think you want to grab his dumb button down collars and bite his lip. You want it to look flushed and tousled and desperate. You want to ride him in his reading chair with the door locked. It just isn’t fair.

The night before your first exam you take z-quil, drink lavender tea, and read a chapter of your favorite book to relax. Your phone buzzes at nine. It’s Marcus: good luck! You’re going to do great! Well. Better take some more Z-quill now that your heart is palpitating.

You pass both tests in excellent standing - MS in International Relations: complete. Pike attends the oral exam. Your skin goes hot when he smiles at you when the committee declares you exceed expectations. He invites you for a celebratory drink in the next couple days, which means you have two days to sternly wrangle your crush back into the dirty corner she came from.

You fail miserably.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

“Look,” he says, setting his beer down on the glass bar counter. “I know it’s not my business, but you still look stressed out. Are your grades bothering you?”

The rim of your gin and tonic is wet with condensation from where your finger circles it. “No, they’re great.”

He bumps your shoulder with his. “Then what’s the damage? You’re jumpier than a…” he trails off thinking a good metaphor. He squints at you a little.

“A virgin at a prison rodeo?” you supply. He inhales sharply, eyes wide. “You can laugh.”

“I didn’t know you watched ‘The Golden Girls,” he says. His tone is admiring. “I was going to say jumpier than a graduate student giving their defense.” You purse your lips when he raises his eyebrows at you. “Can I help at all?”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he takes another sip of his beer. The soft orange lights in the bar spill around his jaw and throat, they flicker in his irises. His face in three quarter profile is august. You’re utterly exhausted from the polite ‘student mentor’ dance you’ve had to do for months while keeping your desire at bay. And more than that, you didn’t want to answer. You wanted to show him and let him decide. The sultry washboard and piano music give you that last boost.

You make sure he’s watching you, then you slowly reach out and wrap your fingers around his wrist.

Then you wait.

Marcus pauses from lifting his beer bottle, eyes glued to your hand on his wrist. It’s petite against him. He stares at your baby blue fingernails pairing beautifully with his Stirling watch - and he feels himself harden.

All the skin on your body stands at attention when he meets your eyes. Everything in them tells you he wants you just as bad. There’s a hesitant curve above his eyebrow though. You get it. You were his student - he’s such a sweet man he wouldn’t even dream of using a power dynamic like that to get laid. Your breath comes in short heaves.

“The semester ended thirty-six minutes ago,” you say over the music. He takes a deep breath. You aren’t his student anymore. Not according to the school, anyway.

You want him to decide. If he doesn’t, you’ll go home and fall apart under your fingertips thinking about how hot it would have been to lift your dress and sit on his cock while wearing your thigh highs.

“Do you want to leave?” You nod, resisting the urge to bite your lip.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Marcus’s apartment is homey. Streetlights flood the floor of the living room through the street facing windows. You turn this way and that to inspect the dark areas that look like bookshelves while he hangs up your coat. You squeeze your hands at your sides, because this is happening. You’re in his house. The hardwood floor is cold under your stocking feet.

You jump when he puts his hands on your shoulders from behind you, holding you a mere inch from his body. You bite your lip when his nose bumps into the back of your head.

“Are you sure about this?”

“You already asked me that,” you reply, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. You want so badly to tell him to tell you what to do. That you don’t want to make any decisions. Brain is worn out. That you want to please him, and not think. Oh, to be a freshmen simply sponging up information.

“I know,” he slides his hands to your biceps and turns you around. “I can check in again, can’t I? He cups your face when you nod. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” you have to stop yourself from saying something incriminating, like mister Pike, or sir, or professor.

You clutch the front of his button down to anchor yourself when his lips brush yours. His mouth is soft. It coaxes you to open so he can dive into you, his tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you respond by pressing into him. You stay pliant under him, letting him lead. Your legs feel on the verge of collapse when you break away. You can’t stand it anymore.

“I want to suck your cock.”

Both of you freeze. For a second you wonder if you’ve given him a heart attack. But you watched his thighs on the car ride back and couldn’t stop thinking about kneeling between them. Your mouth waters. Marcus can’t breathe. He’s straining against his zipper. After your declaration he wants it too.

“Okay, honey,” he breathes. He brushes your ear with his thumb. “If that’s what you want, we’ll do that.”

He tries to draw you backward toward his room where he can turn on a lamp and properly pay tribute to your body, but you pull him back. You tug him to his mid-century armchair - he has the twin to it in his office. His mouth goes dry. You have to know. He looks into your face, and from the way you’ve averted your eyes, you know.

“Please?” you say. It sounds like a sob.

From this close you can smell the vanilla and bergamot of his soap. He sits, waiting for you. When you don’t move he holds his hand out for you to take.

“Come here, honey,” he draws you close. The top of your dress swings a little and he groans when he sees the break of your dress to what he thought were tights. Marcus studies your face in the second hand street light - your mouth parted, your eyes blown wide. Your hand in his is hot. “Hey, if this is overwhelming, or not what you want-”

“It is,” you correct him.

“Tell me what’s wrong then,” he requests. You feel pained. If you don’t say it now you never will.

“Tell me what to do.” Your head aches from the stress of carrying it for so long. “I’ve had to make my own decisions for months, and I don’t want to anymore. Just - for five minutes-” you bring your hands to your cheeks and press them against your hot skin. You watch as he realizes what you want. He nods in slow motion.

“Okay,” he says. “Kneel for me.” He gets even harder when you sink to your knees. Your hands rest in your lap. Waiting. He can’t believe this is happening. Thank goodness he’s going back to the Bureau in three months. He couldn’t face the other faculty - fuck, your advisor - after this. Leaning forward he cups your chin and kisses you. You squeeze your thighs together. He kisses your ear and says lowly, “take my cock out, honey. I want you to suck me off.”

When you take him in your mouth as far as you can, you look into his face. His mouth has fallen open. His ears have turned red from flushing. It’s indescribable. It makes your mouth water further around his hard length. It’s heavy on your tongue. You move up and down his shaft leisurely, trying to savor it. Letting saliva run down onto his skin as your tongue works the spongy head. You reach up to work the base with your hand when he tells you ‘no’.

“Just your mouth.” Fuck. You moan around him as a ripple pulls from deep in your core. The vibrations of you moaning make him jolt and heave. For a few moments he apologies while you breathe deeply, then resume. You take a mouthful of him. It’s feasting. It’s mindless.

His fingers brush the side of your face, and tenderly cups the back of your head. You want to make him understand this is what you want. So you slide down as far as you can comfortably, and wait. Swallowing thickly around his length

“Fuck, honey,” he groans. He gets it, taking both hands and moving your head the pace he wants. You can tell he hasn’t been asked for this often. Maybe ever. You close your eyes and just feel. His cock filling your mouth. Aches forming around your jaw. Tears leaking out of your eyes from your concentration. Your pussy wetting through your underwear. Marcus pulling your hair. You swallow hard, then he stops. And pushes you off.

You whine in protest.

“I hear you, honey,” he says softly. His voice is hoarse. “Another time. I want you to unwind right now.” Your pussy clenches.

He takes you back to his bedroom and helps you undress. He lifts your dress over your head, and kneels to help you out of your thigh highs. One day, if you’ll let him, he’ll fuck you with them on, but he likes to see all of a woman the first time he does anything to her. He kisses the bit of skin above the waistband of your panties before standing to kiss your lips. Your help him push them down your hips until they fall to your ankles. The soft gasp he lets out at the sight of your underwear and bare body is nothing short of gluttonous.

“Lay down.”

He strips while you watch. He does it without taking his eyes off of you. There’s hunger in them. This man has an appetite, you know it. The fabric rustles pleasantly between the sound of both of you breathing. Far away, ambulance sirens blare in another neighborhood, but here in his apartment the wet sound of cars passing in the rainy street are the closest accompaniment.

“I want to touch you here,” he tells you, palming your sex and making you squeak. It’s so forward.

“Do it,” you breathe, and part your legs further for him. He leans in and kisses your temple, murmuring ‘good girl’ and you swear you could black out.

You’re already so wet when his fingers part your folds to greet the new territory. “Did sucking my cock get you wet?” He sounds amazed. He tastes one fingertip before putting it back to tease your folds. “I wonder how wet you would be just holding it in your mouth while you read.”

“Oh-” a ripple works down your spine. He smirks. The tip of his finger brushes just inside your lips to tease your entrance.

“I’m going to put my fingers in you. You,” he pauses to kiss your cheek, “relax. You earned it.” He rubs his nose up and down yours, and you nudge him back just as he slips one long finger into you. You’re glad he’s being sweet like this. It’s the perfect blend of firmness and care. You want him to dominate you one someday, maybe, but right here and now, the combination of his low voice and steady fingers is ideal. Marcus kisses your cheek and mouth as he works his finger in and out of you. It’s thick and reaches further than you ever could. You spread your legs even further to tell him, more.

Without removing his hand he moves down your body to lick your clit. He sucks and flicks it as he coaxes more wetness out of your leaking cunt. Carefully he pulls the finger out and presses his wet hand to the inside of your thigh to keep you open. He laps into you, covering the muscles with lubricant because you’re going to need it. You see his face just as he decides you’re ready; it’s contemplative, like he’s concentrating. Then he slides two fingers deep into you.

“Oh, fuck, that’s so fucking good,” your voice crescendos. You reach for his shoulder as he comes up to lie beside you. His skin is warm under your palm. You buck your hips looking for something else, seeking, wanting-

“Stay still.” You still immediately. “Just feel it, baby. I want you to be ready for me.” You know what he means. His cock is thick and smearing against your hip. He was big in your mouth, he’s going to be big while pushing into you. His fingers keep moving while he kisses the tips of your nipples. When he takes one between his teeth and tugs you break. Your mouth opens, and your legs clamp reflexively around his wrist. Your pussy gushes around his fingers - you can feel it. You can feel how his movements change from a drag as a slide. He keeps pumping. He doesn’t give up until he’s sure you’ve felt every aftershock. He’d love to take his time and work a third in one day - if he can - but tonight, he wants to move on. After you swallowed his cock in his sitting room chair he’s been thinking of rewarding you.

You feel him slip his fingers out, and roll away to the nightstand. He looks back at you, and his eyes soften a little before he asks, “do you want me to use a condom?”

“No,” you say and reach for his bicep to pull him back toward you. He comes willingly. “I have an IUD. And I’m clean.” He smiles, flinging the packet over his shoulder. It makes you giggle, but it sounds hysterical to your ears. You watch him reach down and pump his cock with the hand that was just inside you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“Look at me,” he orders. Your eyes snap open. Marcus crashes his lips on yours. The hand not dripping from your cunt cups the back of your head. “I want to see your eyes while I fuck you.”

His blunt head breaks into you, you lose all thought. He sinks further in, until you’re squirming on his length because he’s stretching you. You suck air in and will your body will stay still like he suggested for his fingers. You look into Marcus’s eyes the whole time, trying to tell him how good he feels. You can’t make the words leave your throat. He pulls your head to him, kisses your mouth until you compose yourself and lie still. Then he gets to work. The breadth of him stills you anew. For the first time in months you fully relax, hardly making a sound as he thrusts steadily. You stare into Marcus’s eyes while your mouth falls open as he slides into you, and listen to the wet sounds of your pussy and the bed frame creaking.

Then he starts talking.

“Do you know how good you look in those blue trousers? I want to grab your ass every time you wear them,” he rumbles. His pace picks up a hair, and he feels harder in you somehow. He drops to his forearm. “I love watching it when you walk out of my office.” You knew it. “And that damn cardigan you never wear a shirt under? Those buttons slip right open, don’t they?” He punctuates it with a deep thrust that makes you squeak. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Wear it over for dinner. I’ll bite your tits through it.”

He fucks into you harder, sending shivers up your spine with every thrust. It moves you up the bed until you have to reach a hand up and press back against the headboard. You clutch him with the other, looping around his shoulder to feel the muscles in his arms pull and tug as he moves in you, working you up to another release Soon enough, the coil in your belly tightens and he reaches to worry your clit with deft fingers. His eyes never leave you. You think this man could make the hardest fuck feel like making love.

“I need more,” you tell him. You’re too embarrassed to ask for what you want. A tear leaks out of your eye because his thickness is so good, but you want something else too. You always underestimate him. He grins because he knows - he’s a detective. He figured it out. He leans down to rest his forehead on your temple.

“You’re doing so well,” he says. You arch up into him, your breasts brush his chest. “Your wet pussy is so sweet. It’s taking me so well. Are you gonna be respectful? Gonna listen?” You have to hold your breath as your hips tense. “Be good and come on my cock.” Oh fuck. “Say it.”

Your voice is wet with joy. “Yes, sir.”

“Such a good girl.”

Sparks lick up your back and through your cunt, forcing Marcus deeper into when you lift your lips. He slows to let you enjoy all your release. He kisses your neck, your jaw, your lips. Then when he hears your content sigh, he buries his face in your neck and chases his own release. He comes with an accompanying rumble from deep in his chest. You moan in return and lift your lips to catch him as he slumps, barely holding his weight off of you.

Water runs in the washroom as you tug the sheets back. The light clicks off, and Marcus appears with a washcloth. His dimple appears when you lean back and let him clean your tender flesh. He sits on the edge of the bed next to your hips, running his knuckles on the soft side of your breast.

“Stay the night,” says. “I’ll cook you breakfast.”

“Hm,” you say, mock contemplative. You run your fingers down his chest. He preens under the affection. “I will. I feel really good.” Your cheeks tingle at the admission. He smiles wide and bright.

He comes back from putting the cloth in the hamper. You roll so he can run his hands the length of your side

“Thank you,” you murmur. He lifts his face from where he’s been peppering your waist with kisses. His brow is furrowed in amused confusion. “For being good to me. For caring about what happened to me.” You’ll tell him the horror stories your friends have from their college another time.

He sighs and cups your cheek. “I like doing it. You’re bright. Supporting you is a privilege. Especially when I know that brain is going to put us all to shame one day.” You could cry.

“I’ve liked you since the body farm,” you admit. He wrinkles his nose. “I know. Not very romantic.”

“I liked you since you thought my campus ID was more official than my FBI badge.”

“I didn’t think that!”

“Get some sleep,” he says. A wicked glint comes to his eye. “I am going to wear you out before lunch.” You wiggle to get comfortable in the sheets and he curls over your back to hold you to his chest.

Orange light peeks through the gap in his blackout drapes. You eye him over your shoulder then settle into the pillow. All the tension in your shoulders is gone.

part 2

[magnetic-rose]

Why Spones is a top-tier ship

AKA “the inherent homoeroticism of annoying the shit out of your co-worker.”

Spock and McCoy have a complicated relationship. A lot of their bickering and ideological differences lead fans to believe that they hate each other, but that’s an over-simplification of the truth. The reality is that Spock and McCoy are extremely close friends who care about each other deeply. Though sometimes their bickering turns serious during stressful situations, for the most time they seem to enjoy the banter. A common mischaracterization of their relationship seems to put McCoy as the bully and Spock as the victim. In truth, there are many times where Spock will say something specifically to get a rise out of McCoy. They fight. That’s how they show affection, not disdain. In fact, one could argue that some of their bantering have a flirtatious tone to it.

Kirk: Mister Spock, regaining eyesight would be an emotional experience for most. You, I assume, felt nothing.

Spock: On the contrary Captain. I had a very strong reaction. My first sight was the face of Doctor McCoy bending over me.

McCoy: ‘Tis a pity brief blindness didn’t increase your appreciation for beauty, Spock. (Operation -- Annihilate!)

Spock is a half-Vulcan, half-Human who has mostly chosen to follow his Vulcan heritage. As such, he is a being of almost pure logic. The truth about Vulcans are that they are secretly beings who feel things very deeply and intensely, and they feel the need to keep a tight lid on their emotions as to not succumb to them. McCoy, on the other hand, is a regular human. He’s a deeply emotional man who cares about others. One could argue that McCoy is almost too empathetic, as he lets his emotions rule him. Spock and McCoy are polar opposites; the brain and the heart, the logic and the emotion, the super-ego and the id.

Despite these differences, the two men are similar in a lot of ways. They’re both men of science, men of peace, and they both care very deeply for their Captain. They’re both self-sacrificing morons, to the chagrin of the other. Spock will prioritize McCoy’s life even when both of them know it’s not the logical choice to do so. Likewise, McCoy will take a hit for Spock even when they both know the Vulcan is stronger and better equipped to deal with pain than the doctor.

Spock: (In the middle of a blizzard) In this severe cold, we cannot survive much longer.

McCoy: Leave me here, Spock.

Spock: We go together or not at all.

McCoy: Don’t be a fool. My hands and face are frostbitten. I can’t feel my feet. Alone, you have a chance. Now do what I say. Go try to find Jim.

Spock: We go together! (All of Yesterdays)

In the episode, “The Empath,” Kirk, Spock and McCoy have to choose someone to be offered as sacrifice to be tortured by a group of aliens. Kirk obviously volunteers, but gets put to sleep by McCoy with a tranquilizer. Spock then states that he’ll offer himself up, as he has the higher chance of surviving the torture. McCoy then proceeds to sedate Spock as well, and sacrifices himself to be tortured by the aliens.

Spock: While the captain is asleep, I am in command. When the Vians return, I shall go with them.

McCoy: You mean, if I hadn't given him that shot

Spock: Precisely. The choice would have been the captain's. Now it is mine.

(McCoy turns away. Spock sits to carry on working. Gem puts her hand on Spock's shoulder, and smiles. McCoy comes up behind him and gives him an injection.)

Spock: Your action is highly unethical. My decision stands. (Spock falls asleep next to Kirk.)

McCoy: Not this time, Spock.

Underneath all the fighting and disagreements, there is a deep caring between Spock and McCoy that manifests itself into protectiveness towards each other. In “All of Yesterdays,” Spock is constantly showing concern for McCoy after he almost died of hypothermia. In aftermath of McCoy’s torture in “The Empath,” Spock is seen hovering over his body and caressing his face, worry written into his features. On the other hand, while McCoy constantly makes fun of Spock for his lack of emotions, he’s also highly aware of the Vulcan’s mental state and protective of it when others threaten to shatter his resilience.

McCoy: He's a Vulcan. You can't force emotion out of him.

Philana: You must be joking, Doctor.

McCoy: You'll destroy him.

Parmen: We can't let him die laughing, can we?

McCoy: (Watching as Spock starts to cry) I beg you! (Plato’s Stepchildren)

The episode “Amok Time” also demonstrates McCoy’s perceptiveness of Spock and Spock’s true feelings of friendship towards McCoy. McCoy is in fact the first person to notice that something is wrong with Spock:

McCoy: Oh, captain. Got a minute? It's Spock. Have you noticed anything strange about him?

Kirk: No, nothing in particular. Why ?

McCoy: Well, it's nothing I can pinpoint without an examination, but he's become increasingly restive. If he were not a Vulcan, I'd almost say nervous. And for another thing, he's avoiding food. I checked and he hasn't eaten at all in three days.

Kirk: That just sounds like Mister Spock in one of his contemplative phases.

Kirk doesn’t notice anything wrong with Spock, and initially dismisses McCoy’s concern, but McCoy immediately picked up on Spock’s mental turmoil. Despite his cantankerousness, McCoy not only cares about Spock but goes out of his way to look out for his mental state. Part of it might be because he’s his doctor, but how many doctors go so far as to monitor someone’s eating habits because they notice that person’s suddenly being fidgety? On Spock’s end, when it comes time for him to beam down to Vulcan to complete his marriage ceremony, he specifically asks for McCoy to be there:

Spock: By tradition, the male is accompanied by his closest friends.

Kirk: Thank you, Mister Spock.

Spock: I also request McCoy accompany me.

McCoy: I shall be honoured, sir.

One episode I find extremely fascinating in terms of McCoy/Spock moments is “Mirror, Mirror.” In this famous episode, half of the Enterprise crew get transported into an alternate universe dubbed The Mirror Verse, in which evil versions of the characters exist and terrorize space as a fearsome military force. McCoy is part of the team that gets transported in the Mirror Verse, while Spock stays in their regular universe. Mirror Spock immediately realizes that half of the crew, including Kirk and McCoy, are acting strangely. When he corners Kirk to question him, he does so by threatening McCoy: “I shall not waste time with you. You’re too inflexible, too disciplined, once you’ve made up your mind. But Doctor McCoy has a plenitude of human weaknesses, sentimental, soft. You may not tell me what I want to know, but he will.” This Spock seems to have a intimate knowledge of McCoy’s mind.  When the party decides to attack Mirror Spock, he fights all of them except for Uhura and McCoy, who he simply pushes out of harm’s way.

When Mirror Spock gets hurt as the crew is trying to escape back to their own universe, McCoy is suddenly unable to leave his side. Kirk allows him to stay to nurse Spock back to health, and McCoy risks almost staying in the Mirror Verse forever for him. When Mirror Spock awakes, he backs McCoy into a wall and initiates a forced mind meld onto the doctor. The next scene has Mirror Spock holding a disoriented McCoy up and bringing him back to his crew; he now understands what is happening and he wants his regular crew back, and thus he allows Kirk and company to make the switch back to their own universe.

Other Star Trek properties have gone more in depth on how a forced mind meld can be extremely traumatizing on the person receiving it. Star Trek: Enterprise has an entire story arc dedicated to the Vulcan T’Pol trying to heal from a forced mind meld. Unfortunately, because the nature of TOS episodes were episodic, we never got the chance to explore the emotional fallout of McCoy’s forced mind meld and how that might have affected his relationship with Spock. The franchise also never went in depth on Mirror McCoy outside of what Mirror Spock speaks of him, since Mirror McCoy died of xenopolycythemia in 2269.

Closing the list of evidence of Spock and McCoy’s affections towards each other are the Star Trek movies “The Wrath of Khan” and “The Search for Spock.” Towards the end of Wrath of Khan, Spock sacrifices himself to save The Enterprise in one of the franchises most heart-wrenching scenes. Moments before his sacrifice, he knocks McCoy unconscious, touches his face and whispers “remember.” What happened in this scene was that Spock, knowing he was about to die, transferred his Katra to McCoy. The katra being the Vulcan equivalent of a soul. This speaks to the amount of trust that Spock has in McCoy. For someone who keeps most of his emotions under a tight lid, it’s a huge gesture to entrust another with the essence of their entire being. The next movie, The Search for Spock, is a journey as the Enterprise crew fight to return to Vulcan so they can reunite Spock with his body. When they finally arrive, the Vulcans warn McCoy that the process is extremely dangerous and could even result in his death. McCoy calmly replies that he “chooses the danger.” He cannot fathom living his life without Spock.

McCoy: (Speaking to Spock) I'm going to tell you something that I... I never thought I'd hear myself say...But it seems I've missed you. I don't know if I could stand to lose you again.

So in conclusion, Spock and McCoy have a rich and complex relationship that is much more than simply just “they dislike each other because they bicker a lot.” Their bickering is more akin to that of an old married couple. There are plenty of examples not even included in this post of how deeply they care for each other. Despite their ideological differences, they balance each other out quite nicely. McCoy is finely attuned to Spock’s emotions, arguably better than anyone else on the ship. Spock in turn is protective and gentle with McCoy. Once you stop looking at their interactions solely on the surface level, you’ll be able to see the tenderness and years of love and friendship between them. This is why I think Spock/McCoy is one of the most underrated and misunderstood relationships of TOS. Don’t let the constant arguing fool you into believing these two dummies don’t adore each other.

Shout-out to Tempest for their extremely lengthy ship manifesto on Spones called “Spiced Peaches,” which goes even more in depth on why Spones is a great couple. Using their manifesto as a reference was key to remembering Spock/McCoy moments. Also shout-out to the site chakoteya for having full transcripts of TOS episodes, so I could easily find quotes for this. If you’ve come this far, thanks for reading!

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 55

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 2,953

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

Testing Boundaries

When you arrived at the kitchen a few hours later for dinner prep, you were surprised to find Ben conspicuously absent. At first you worried that he was afraid to show his face after being caught with Simon last night, but the staff member named Andrew informed you that he had temporarily stepped out when one of Negan’s men came in and said he needed Ben’s assistance with something. When Andrew verified the man’s identity as “the big smiley one with the mustache”, you had a feeling you knew just what kind of “assistance” had been needed. You weren’t even upset about it, because truth be told, Ben deserved some breaks from the kitchen. And you had a feeling that Simon possessed just enough carefree attitude and allure to make sure Ben got them. 

With the rest of the staff busy at their various tasks, and without Ben there as a distraction, you quickly became consumed with thoughts of your earlier conversation with Maria. She had made it seem as though Amber had been subdued, at least temporarily, and the rest of the wives weren’t in an uproar over the lack of attention from Negan, but the fact that a conversation about you had occurred at all put you a bit on edge. It was now obvious to the wives that you were the reason for Negan’s change in behavior, and you wondered how long it would take for that to leak to the rest of the community. And when that happened, people were sure to wonder and speculate, right? Hell, you had a bunch of questions still, and you were the one personally involved in the situation! 

By the time the first round of food was exiting the kitchen and being served to hungry patrons, your brain was starting to ache from how much that padlocked box of unanswered questions was jumping around, screaming to be opened and explored. You knew it couldn’t be ignored for much longer, but were terrified of what you might find if you let it loose. You already knew you were developing an emotional attachment to Negan, but if you opened that padlock and really took a look at the items inside, you might realize just how strong the emotions waiting to be uncovered really were. Hell, you had almost stupidly blurted some of what you were feeling out in the woods yesterday, and had barely caught yourself in time. 

Besides, the scariest part of opening that box wasn’t just looking at your own emotions and asking the tough questions, it was then also having to see what his responses would be.

Well the unknown is almost worse, so it’s time to suck it up and have a serious conversation with him about where all of this is going. Ask him about if he’s keeping his wives, admit you know he hasn’t been sleeping with them, and see what he says. Worst case scenario he laughs in your face, sends you away, and never speaks to you again. Easy peasy. 

Just as you were about to work up to a full internal panic attack at the thought of discussing it with him, the doors to the kitchen swung open, and Ben appeared. To anyone else he’d probably look the same as usual, but as he headed in your direction you could see a slight flush to his cheeks and a couple pieces of hair that were suspiciously more disheveled than usual. 

“I’m so sorry for missing prep,” he said by way of greeting, looking a bit tense, as if unsure how you’d treat him after the previous evening.

“Don’t apologize for things if you don’t actually regret them,” you teased with a smirk and playful shake of your head, voice low enough so that only he could hear. 

He choked on a laugh, shoulders visibly relaxing when he realized that nothing had changed between the two of you, and there was zero need for formality or awkwardness. 

Nudging you with his shoulder, he said, “Thanks.” It was one simple word, but the slightly shaky and whispered tone let you know how much emotion was behind it. 

A surge of protectiveness surged in you. If it hadn’t been apparent before how willing you were to Ricardo death-stab anyone who tried to make fun of or harm Ben, it definitely was now. He was one of the sweetest humans you had ever met, and Simon better treat him right or else he’d be dealing with you and your pointy sidekick.

“So, uh, what kind of ‘assistance’ did he need your help with?” You tried for cool and casual, but couldn’t totally hide a teasing grin.

“Oh, nothing much. He just needed a bit of a hand with something, if you know what I mean.” 

At the look of surprise on your face, he started laughing loud enough to draw a few curious gazes from the others. “Besides that, he was letting me know he wouldn’t be around for a day or two.”

Brows furrowing, you asked, “Is Negan sending him back to an outpost?”

“No, he’s joining the supply run tomorrow.” 

At this, you jolted with a different kind of surprise. “They’re going on a run tomorrow?”

“Yea, but I think it was a spur of the moment decision. He didn’t give me any details, but I got the sense that it hadn’t been planned in advance.” 

You nodded, “That makes sense.” If Negan had planned this run before today, he’d have most likely told you...right? 

“I’m sure he’d have told you if he knew,” Ben said, as if he were reading your thoughts. 

“Yea, you’re probably right,” you said, deciding to make that the one thing you didn’t need to overanalyze to death. Instead, you felt a pang in knowing that he wouldn’t be here for a couple of days. You had really been enjoying all this one-on-one time with him, even though it was unrealistic to expect it to last forever. 

You wanted to ask Ben more questions about Simon, but didn’t want to risk any other staff overhearing. Vowing to sit him down outside the kitchen and get all the details in the near future, you refocused on serving dinner. Both brain and body were kept busy for the next few hours with making sure everyone got a serving of food, including the staff and yourself, and then helping with the clean-up. 

It wasn’t until you were back upstairs, lounging in your own bed, that you returned to the dilemma of what to do next. Originally, you had planned to start a conversation with Negan about the wife situation, but now you didn’t think the timing was right. If he was going on a run tomorrow then he needed a clear head and to focus on staying safe, not be preoccupied with your concerns and questions. Especially since you didn’t know if asking about the wives would lead to an argument, and you definitely didn’t want to be on bad terms when he left.

Seeing him tonight and trying to act like your brain hadn’t been a whirlwind of confusing thoughts all day sounded exhausting as hell. But not seeing him and then something potentially happening to him on the run…

You had stood from the bed and headed towards the door before the thought could even finish itself. Nope, there was no way you weren’t gonna go see him, even if it was just for a little bit before returning to your own room for the night. Your watch said it was almost 8:30, so you had a little time before he’d probably be winding down for the night, since chances were good they’d leave at the crack of dawn tomorrow. 

No community members paid you much attention when you headed to the stairwell, but when you got to the top and entered the hall leading to Negan’s room, your stomach dropped at the sight of a small group of Saviors walking down the hall in your direction.

You guessed that they were the group going on the run tomorrow, and had just come from a meeting in one of the unoccupied rooms on this floor. While you were unsure whether to turn around and hightail it back downstairs, your subconscious kept marching forward, no fucks to give that you could be accused of trespassing on a level where community members weren’t supposed to wander. 

When they got closer, you saw a couple of the Saviors give furrowed looks, and one even opened his mouth as if to reprimand you.

“Hey, you can’t just be-“

He was interrupted when another man clapped a large hand on his shoulder, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence. Relief flooded through you at the sight of Simon.

“Now now, Ryan. Don’t you know that this little lady here gets a free pass? Negan’s orders, so don't forget.”

Face instantly becoming less hostile, the man gave a nod of understanding and a quick, “Apologies, Miss,” as they passed. Simon gave a signature wink and grin, and you forced a smile in return, brain still preoccupied with his words.

Had Negan really told them that you were to be allowed up here? If so, did that mean he didn’t care if they knew you and him were...whatever you were? Your subconscious was now skipping with glee rather than marching, and your brain gave an exasperated sigh and glared at you while tossing yet another question into the padlocked box.

Arriving at Negan’s door, you gave a soft knock and then opened it at his muffled, “Come in.” He was sitting at his desk with those nerdy, yet also sexy as hell, black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he shuffled through a stack of papers.

He looked up, and your heart rate accelerated when he smiled in welcome and said, “Hey, doll.”

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, smiling back. 

He pulled off the glasses (lord, why was that move so damn attractive?!) before rubbing at his tired eyes. Pushing the chair back a bit, he gave you a slow once over before clapping a hand to his knee expectantly.

Unlike when he had last made the gesture, the evening you ate lasagna together, this time you didn’t hesitate. Rounding the desk, you settled onto his warm lap and tilted your head back with a satisfied hum when he placed a possessive kiss on your lips. 

Glancing at the papers strewn across the polished wooden surface, you saw that they were full of lists and numbers, most likely of supplies. He nuzzled at the side of your neck, the friction from his beard causing a little shudder to go down your spine. Your brain rattled the padlocked box in annoyance, narrowly avoiding the tomato thrown at it by your subconscious. 

The reminder helped you refocus on how you had earlier decided not to have sex with him tonight. Not with all the questions and uncertainty floating around your head, and especially not when he needed to be well-rested and undistracted, in preparation for the run. But then the self-doubt creeped in and whispered, What if he decides to go find comfort elsewhere, if you won’t give it to him? He’s already had you and the chase is over, so what makes you think he’ll stay if you backtrack into more platonic interactions?

Your brain picked up the tomato and chucked it at the self-doubt, while the subconscious screamed in excitement at the prospect of a food fight. You tried to ignore all of them and refocus on Negan. Besides, while a risky move, you couldn’t help but wonder what his reaction would be when denied sex, something you bet he never had worried about with his wives.

“I heard you’re going on a run tomorrow,” you stated, trying not to let all of the conflicting emotions racing through you bleed into your tone.

Giving a sigh, he lifted his mouth from your neck, and you instantly wanted to take back your words at the loss. “Yea, gonna leave at 5 in the fucking morning to make a surprise trip to fucking Hilltop and see what’s up with that motherfucker, Gregory.”

Hearing the irritation in his voice, you asked “Has he been giving you problems?” 

“You could fucking say that. Didn’t fully meet his quota the last two times, so this is his third time’s the fucking charm chance to make up for it.”

Worry shot through you at this, remembering in the past when Negan had said Simon got a weird feeling about Gregory. You weren’t sure if the man was conniving or just plain dumb to be fucking with Negan’s supply rules like this, but it put you on edge. 

“Well, just be careful,” you couldn’t help but say, looking up into his handsome-as-hell face. 

He chuckled and bent down to kiss you again, murmuring, “Don’t fucking worry, doll. Nothing could keep me from coming back now.” 

You wanted so badly to give in, to respond to the kiss in full and let it escalate. His words warmed your chest at the thought of being his main reason for returning safely. You wanted to be his main everything, the way he was quickly becoming yours. You were falling for this man, but were scared to completely let go until a serious discussion was had...after he returned from the run. 

With one last lingering peck, you pulled back and reluctantly stood off his lap. “Well, it’s getting late so I should probably get back to my room.”

“What?” he asked, voice instantly stern and brows lowered in confusion. 

“You need sleep before the run, and I’ll just be a distraction. I could set an alarm and come see you off in the morning, if you want.” 

The hope that he’d be placated by what you thought was a logical argument was quickly dashed when he replied, “I think fucking not.”

“Negan, you need-”

He abruptly stood, and before you could even process what he was about to do, you were hoisted up and over his shoulder, head hanging down his back and ass in the air as he strode across the office and into his dark bedroom.

“What the hell!” you shrieked, lightly smacking his back with the palm of your hand. 

Kicking the bedroom door shut behind him, he took a few steps into the room before putting you down. The room was only lit by a few stray moonbeams, but you swore there was mirth dancing in the shadows of his amber gaze, which only made you more flustered. 

“I cannot believe you just did that!” you exclaimed, readjusting the bottom of your shirt where it had ridden up. 

“Well, maybe now you’ll fucking learn not to try and tell me what I need, doll.”

“Everyone needs sleep,” you fired back with a glare. You were just miffed enough at being manhandled to act petulant, even if the move had also been kinda hot, in a primitive sort of way. 

“What I need, is for you to get in the fucking bed,” he growled. 

A wave of heat poured over you at the words, and your brain stopped working in full sentences due to the amount of blood flow that had rapidly traveled south. 

“But...sleep,” you tried one more time, frantically trying remind your body of the ‘no sex tonight’ rule. 

Giving a ‘holy mother of god woman why are you like this’ level of sigh, he said, “Yes, doll, I’ll fucking sleep. But I can still do that with you here. So get in. The. Fucking. Bed.”

Realizing resistance was futile, you threw your hands in the air and muttered ‘fine’ before stripping off your shoes and jeans, and crawling between the covers. You pointedly left on your underwear and shirt, a nonverbal reminder that sleep was on the menu, and no more...no matter how much your body was screaming that it hated you for denying it. 

In unspoken agreement, Negan stripped down to just his boxer briefs, rather than his usual bed attire of naked, and crawled under the covers. Pulling you into his body, back to his chest, his head rested a few inches behind yours. He leaned in and kissed the back of your neck, and biting your lip was all that held back a whimper. 

“You better fully wake me up in the morning, so I can say goodbye,” you mumbled, the decadently soft mattress and pillow quickly putting you into a drowsy haze.

The hand he had rested lightly on your hip gave an affectionate squeeze, and he whispered, “I will. Now stop talking, doll. I need sleep, remember.”

Ignoring the sarcasm in his tone, you snuggled back tighter against him, and sighed in contentment. “Good night.”

His voice lost all teasing and became lower and softer when he replied, “Night, doll.” 

Smiling, your muscles relaxed into the mattress. It wasn’t until you were cocooned back in this glorious bed with him that it became apparent just how exhausted you were. The mental gymnastics your brain had gone through today had thoroughly worn you out. However, a part of that persistent self-doubt had now broken off and shriveled up to dust when it saw that Negan was perfectly willing to have you in his bed like this, with no sexual expectations. If you could stay awake long enough to fully think it through, you’d be shocked as hell that he hadn’t pushed. The fact that he hadn’t even brought up sex, that he still wanted you here with him, even just to do this…

Your last coherent thought was maybe he’s falling for you too, and then sleep took over.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V1;  report ix

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: doctors! au; humor, romance 

warnings: swearing

word count: 1.8k

g/n: ((unedited skfslkdf)) also,,, i will be releasing Parallel Palpitations very soon [which features this Jimin hehehehe stay tuned for that] PLUS, im very excited to release the report x AHHHHHH send me your thoughts pleaseee 

[taglist]:  @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07​ @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle​ @btsmakesmehappy​

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

You open your new group chat first thing in the morning, wanting to check on Soomin and Jimin. Just yesterday, the two had informed you of their concerns separately, both worried over the same thing. Soomin’s mother wanted to hold a small congratulatory celebration for her daughter’s KMLE results, and her subsequent acceptance at Woocheon, so there was going to be a party exclusively for all tenants of the building at the restaurant just next to the cafe. 

The two hadn’t worked out their budding acquaintance, as you had practically forced them to greet each other the last time you were at the cafe, so you thought this might be a great way to have them start over their tricky relationship. 

As you’ve expected, both of them had even tried to convince you to come, in the hopes that a mutual friend could help diminish the awkward air around them. You’ve declined each of them politely, not wanting to intrude on their little get-together. Besides, (just like you hadn’t forgotten to mention to them), this was the perfect opportunity to get rid of this wall hindering their friendship (to which, both of them had also quite strongly disagreed upon). 

A mere three hours after their outpour of sentiments, as you’re rewatching episodes of Dr. Romantic with Chohee, the pair drunkenly call you, requesting a video chat. You’re pretty sure not one of them is aware of what’s happening, especially with Jimin refilling his shot glass every thirty seconds; Soomin speaking gibberish, and Chohee literally teasing them through the screen of your laptop and yet none of them seem to mind a damn thing about it. 

So, with hopes that each of them arrived home safely last night, you type in your text message. 

‘What is this place, really?’ you mutter to yourself, slightly regretting your decision to take the subway instead of a cab. You only ride taxis for places you’re not familiar with (such is the case with today) but you didn’t want to spend twice as much solely for transportation so you took the train to the building. 

Now you feel lost. You’ve just gone to the main entrance of the building, but there was scaffolding barring the entrance, and now you’re struggling to look for Entrance B with the singular tarpaulin saying “Please use Entrance B” and a faded arrow below pointing to the left. After a grueling ten minutes of asking people for directions and walking all over the place, you finally find Entrance B and hurry on your way inside. 

There’s already a small crowd forming where the directions for the processing of your license is posted, and you can’t seemingly read the directions all the way down with people clearly taller than you blocking the way. 

“What’s the matter? Can’t see the directions, smally?” 

Your instant recognition of his voice makes you hang your head low. You figure there’s no way you can get rid of this guy anytime soon. 

“Hello, Jungkook.” 

Why is it that he’s always there wherever you are? He couldn’t be stalking me, could he? 

Jungkook almost spits his water on the girl in front of him. Oh, so he heard your thoughts then. “Yeah, you wish, woman. I wouldn’t do that even if you had one million strapped to your neck.” You roll your eyes at him. 

“Wasn’t asking for any conditions for you to do that, but thanks for letting me know your thoughts.” 

“Awh, you mad, babe?” Shaking your head at him, you try to continue peering over everyone’s shoulder to check the post. “If it makes you feel any better, I would for two million though.” 

You were just about to retaliate with a smart comment, but you see a girl walking towards Jungkook while twirling her hair with her newly manicured fingers. “Jungkook-oppa, you’re here!” she says, hooking her arm on his elbow. 

Ah yes, it’s the same brat that kept defending Jungkook’s ass during the KMLE exam. “Why don’t you come with us? My mom works here,” her voice gets down to a whisper, but loud enough for you to hear. “If you come with us, you wouldn’t have to fall in line, then maybe we could have lunch together. 

Jungkook removes her hand from his, “No thank you, I’ll just wait here.” 

“With her?”

The audacity of this bitch. 

“Yes, with her.” Jungkook says, not skipping a beat. “She’s...better company.” Oof, that’s gotta hurt. 

You try not to show much of your currently soaring pride on your face, but you can’t help but clear your throat as a terrible disguise for a snort. The girl becomes silent after that, with most of her friends trying to control their facial expressions after Jungkook’s reply. 

“Fine then, your loss,” she says with a flip of her hair, then makes her exit. 

You're unsure what to do now as the girl has already left, and you’re also not sure if you’re entirely happy about being left with Jungkook now. “Why didn’t you go with her? Could’ve saved you a lot of time considering the people here.” 

Jungkook clenches his jaw, as if in thought. “I don’t like cheating. I believe that there’s a different value in the reward that comes with something you worked hard for.” 

You’re surprised. You really hadn’t expected this kind of quote, coming out of Jungkook out of all people, but you find yourself nodding as he speaks, quite impressed that you share the same principles. 

As the crowd starts to disperse, you and Jungkook finally get your turns to take a look at the poster. “Is it often?” 

“What is?” 

You point a thumb backwards towards where the girl had gone to, “Having girls throw themselves at you all the time?” 

“Oh that,” Jungkook chuckles, then gives you a lopsided smirk, “Yeah, that. Hadn’t realized being this hot was so tiring.” Squinting your eyes at him, it then again dawns on you that you shouldn’t even have asked him that sort of question at all. 

“You know,” he says, nudging your shoulder with his, “I’m quite jealous of you really,” your brows crease together. This can’t be good. “At least you don’t experience all of that, cause you know…” he says, gesticulating his hands over his face. 

He did not just insinuate that you were not...attractive at all. Huh. This bastard can wait for his license alone then. 

“Goodbye, Jungkook.” 

“Hang on! ________, wait! I was just messing with you,” Jungkook laughs, running after you.

The cashier is already scanning the last items on your grocery list by the time Jimin and Soomin had texted you that they were done with their licenses, and you three had agreed on meeting up by the mall’s concierge. It doesn’t take long before you all decide on having Italian for dinner, after seeing the restaurant nearest to where the concierge was. 

“Wait, it took you guys only half an hour?” you exclaim, recalling how you had to endure at least more than an hour with Jungkook as you waited for your licenses to finish. Thankfully though, the latter had other errands to run so you two parted ways as soon as you got your IDs. 

Jimin, always the gentleman, offers to get your group the utensils as well as a few condiments and spices you might need with your meals. “Soomin-ssi, do you know anybody else who’s going to Woocheon too?” he says, setting the silverware atop the napkins. 

Soomin thanks Jimin for the thoughtful gesture, sending a small smile his way. You squeal inwardly, wanting to know what happened last night for them to interact like this. “Um, also, I’m not so sure about the others who will be attending Woocheon too...I only got a glimpse of the list, sorry.” 

“Ah, no worries about that. So, how was the dinner party last night?” 

The two glance at each other, seemingly communicating with their eyes. Oookay, what’s going on between these two? What exactly happened last night? If they wanted to be alone, they could’ve just said so… 

“It was fun,” Jimin initiates, plastering  what seems to be a painfully wide grin on his face. Soomin nods along with him as she adds more, “Honestly, I don’t remember much about last night, but I do recall Jimin calling me ‘sajangnim’ the whole night. And I told him to not call me that, but Jimin here is a stubborn man.” 

“Yeah, you complained about that too last night,” you laugh, cutting your garlic bread into pieces. “Wait, what?” Jimin squints his eyes at you, “Were you there last night? How did you....” 

“I’m guessing you both don’t remember calling me last night too, didn’t you?” 

“We did?!” they say in unison, making your eyes go wide. “Did I do something stupid?” “Please tell me I didn’t say something I shouldn’t have?” 

“Hmm, well, it was quite the conversation last night,” you tease them, wanting to see how far this can go, “plus Chohee was there too so I have another key witness.” 

“What?” Jimin squeaks, lips pressing into a thin line, “what’s the key witness for?” 

“That, my friend, is up to you to remember and figure out.” You give each of them a wink, before turning your attention back to your pasta.  

Transferring all your groceries to one hand, you fish your keys from your purse, shaking it lightly to hear its jingle as you blindly course your fingers through your bag. As the elevator doors open, you see your neighbor down the end of the hall, trailing after a man. 

Ayoung hears the elevator bell ding and turns to your direction. She excitedly points her thumb to her back, mouthing ‘new tenant’ to you. She keys in her code and lets the guy in first. The moment he’s inside, she leans by the doorframe and whispers how hot the guy actually was and how much of a lucky neighbor you were going to be. 

You shake your head at her, leaving Ayoung to entertain her guest. Of course, not forgetting to pray that she manages to score you a hot man next door.

© joontier 2021

[tazanna-blythe]

Done

Chapter 5

~Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie~

"Wellcome ladies so how's school?" Sabine said with a motherly smile smile then placing a freshly baked Croissants on the table.

"Where fine, just another day at the clown house, I swear that our classmates have no brain cells not one of them "Chloe said while spreading butter on her croissant then without any hesitation she ate it.

"I beg to differ dear but i think they still have one connecting brain cell,seeing as they are one and no one can break their bond"Mari and she also ate the croissant happily

"So Dumb,Dumber,Dumbest then? or all equally dumb?" Chloe mumble (she took another bite on her food)

"No it's like they all have an on and off button for their reasoning and common sense and Liela has the button" Mari

"And She uses her sausage her as an antenna the give them signals hahahahahahahhaha"Chloe

"Ladies that's not nice besides everyone has their own preference or style that they think is fashionable ... all though i wanna know who told her having a sausage as an inspiration for a hairstyle especially when she moves her head she looks like a paddle ball a had when i was a kid" Sabine

both Chloe and Marinette bust into laughter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Collège Françoise Dupont Clinic

*Bell *

Adrien is still sleeping soundly and the kind nurse doesn't want to wake him up and clearly from how pale his face is and how dark his eye bags are and how bone to skin he is, she made a decision to call his guardians to pick him up and have him take a proper rest and some good soul food too judging by how boney he is. this child is a model she understands this but this is to much and it has a medical term called MALNUTRITION so she's not gonna stand by and do nothing.

So she quietly and gentle as she can took photos and notes on Adrien body. because he is wearing a plain white T-shirt and a loose pants all she has to do is hold some of the cloth of the T-shirt to make it tight to show how small and boney he is and she all so did the same thing to the pants. His wearing a T-shirt so his some of is upper arm is shone so the nurse took a measuring tape and measure his arms and leg. And lastly because of the akuma attacks the School funds for the clinic doubled and because of this most of their equipments are brand new and the latest model so the bed has a scale built in it so she took his weight and height. and all of this is recorded in the clinic's CCTV camera she made sure of it.

After all that is done she neatly filed this info on her computer and flash drive then she called his guardians. fortunately for him his father and his assistant is so busy that they cannot answer their phone so it was Gorilla who was called to pick him up.

When Gorilla arrived the nurse was so scared of him she almost scream in fear when he suddenly appeared in front of her luckily she didn't.

"Hello Sir. how can i help you" Nurse

"Hi my name is SImon and I'm here to pick up Adrien" Gorilla (HIS NAME IS SIMON OH MY GOSH I JUST FOUND OUT TODAY!!!)

"Hi my name is Katty and I'm the school nurse nice to meet you"

"Likewise"

"Im sorry but before I hand over Adrien to you i need to see your IDs please"

"Sure"

"Ok it seems that everything is in order then you may take him home, and also my advice is to keep him stress free, eat and sleep more cause we don't want him to suddenly collapse now do we"

"Yes ma'am"

Then Gorilla slowly and Gently picked up Adrien like a porcelain princess and took his backpack/sling bag and went home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Collège Françoise Dupont Gym

"Ok class since Adrien is sick we need to still proceed to class. Now, I want all of you to make two lines.One for boys and one for the girls CHOP ChOP!!! " Gym teacher

“Um Sir. What about lila??” Rose

“What about her?“

“Lila Sprained her risk and ankle so she cant stand very long“ Alya

“Ok then Who’s Lila, Raise your good arm“

“Sir. I’m Lila Rossi“ Liela replied with a small smile and leaning into her left foot for effect

The Teacher saw her and slowly walk towards her while inspecting her body for injuries

“Which foot is sprained and which arm?“

“My right foot and arm sir “Liela said weakly.

“Can i check your arm and foot?“ The Teacher ask nicely

“Yes of course“ 

So someone brought a chair for her to sit while the Gym Teacher inspect her injuries

“Awww, Aw aw aw awaaa that hurts“ Liela cries dramatically like a spoiled dog. While the Teacher was just holding her arm not doing anything other than carrying it like a sausage

“Ok then Lila where's your medical note seeing as this is a “BIG INJURY” your parents shouldn't have let you go to school?“ The Teacher looking and talking to her like a person would to a two year old

“My Dad left us since i was young and my Mom is so busy that she’d forgotten about me“ Liela said sadly trying to make her tears drop not realizing that the teacher don't buy it

“Hush now don't cry dear I’m sure your mom is just tired now why don't you sit here and be quiet while all of us start the class,O.K“

“Yes sir“ with a final fake sob she smile at the Teacher.

“Ok,now two lines people, great now everybody just jog 20 laps then you are dismissed.But remember do not break your line and JOG NOT RUN OK ALIX AND KIM! if i see any of you break your line or run i’ll make everyone do 15 jumping jacks then additional 10 laps. Am I Clear! “

“Yes,Sir!!“ the Students then do as they were told while lila stayed seated smiling at her small victory and proceeds play on her phone and to search for more things to lie to make her even more popular.

While everybody was busy doing their task no one noticed the Gym Teacher also take’s his phone and contacted the School Nurse asking for Lila’s medical records and telling her what happen today.

Faking an injury to a teacher who was an athlete himself was a big No No but he cant just outed the child right then and there because she’ll get emotional and he doesn't want to cause another akuma.He’ll just do it the old fashion way... Making the parents discipline their own child. but first he needed her records. 

“Did you just see what i just witness?“ Chloe while looking at her exhausted classmates after they finished 20 laps.

“What?“ Mari while handling her a bottle of cold water

“You really didn’t see that?,Thanks“

“You mean Liela’s ridiculous lie then yeah and so?“

“So? So?, Mari she just gotten away with it and it wasn’t even a good lie and acting“

“No, I don’t think she did“

“Huh?! Would her majesty care to explain?“

“Our gym Teacher is an Athlete who won medals in his time. He out of everyone here would have known just by looking at someone if they have any physical injuries“

“So he just let her go?“

“No. I don't think he would so let's just watch and see what he'll do, besides if he really fell for it then his just another idiot who needs to be replaced” Marinette said as she and Chloe backed their bags and left.

~~~~~~~~

“Hey Nino do you have any info about Adrien??“ Alix

“Yeah Nino what happen to him?, you were the last person we saw with him?“ Alya

“Well he looked sick so i send him to the clinic, I didn't know that he was that sick“ Nino

“Well I Just hope he gets better“ Alix

“So has anyone gotten started researching yet??“Alya

“Nope we were just hoping that will do it together like in a slumber party?“ Rose

“Actually that’s not bad soo who's house are we going?“Juleka

“What are you guys talking about? and where are we going?“ Liela walked to them when she saw her minions talking without her and of course she was escorted by the ever loyal dog Kim

“I umm“ Juleka

“Yeah where are we going?“ Kim 

Everyone was looking at each other knowing that they can fool kim but not Lila.

“Well-“ Alya

“We were planning on a slumber party tonight but we haven't decided where will be staying?“Juleka

“Oh!! why don't we stay at my place my parents arent how so i have are house all to myself and you guys don't have to bring anything with you because and my parents just went to the supermarket yesterday“ Rose

“Really that's great so it's settled will head home pack then will go directly to Rose’s house“ Alya

“Great I can't wait to spend time with my very BEST FRIENDS! but aren't we gonna invite Marinette and Chloe?“ Liela 

“No need they’ll just destroy and ruined the party. So what are we waiting for let GOOOOOO!!!“ Alya

After that everyone started packing their bags and left to their respective homes with a smile on their faces.

***************

It's been so long since I Uploaded something and i hope you guys liked it....        If you guys have any suggestion i’ll be happy to read and maybe include them in my next work.

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[cursed-or-not]

Suptober Day 31: Carry On

It comes with a whimper instead of a bang.

It’s not so much in how they save the world as it is in how they save themselves. If Dean’s honest, he barely remembers how the final battle went down. It was all a blur of lights, of sounds, of colors, and then they were free.

Looking back, Dean thinks maybe that was the easy part. Now that freedom’s in the cards, it’s figuring out what to do with it that’s the hard part.

Nothing changes right away. Dean always thought that after that final battle, one day he’d just wake up different, but he’s beginning to learn that the world doesn’t work like that, and he sure as hell doesn’t either. Some things, he’ll always carry with him.

They’ve spent three months free when Jack finally asks him about it.

“Why do you still want to hunt?”

The question is abrupt and well-meaning and the last thing that Dean wants to answer. He doesn’t know: doesn’t know why he was born into this, why it’s coursing through his blood. Why he can’t leave it behind.

“What are you talking about?” Dean asks instead of answering. He wishes Sam would walk in.

Jack tilts his head.

“I’m not sure what you want me to specify,” Jack responds earnestly.

In spite of it, Dean catches himself smiling. Jack is kind and curious, and he’s his kid.

“Yeah, me neither. I just don’t have a good answer for you.”

“Oh,” Jack nods. “That’s okay.”

Dean takes a moment to respond. He doesn’t know why it feels like his throat is filling with cotton or why his eyes are stinging, but his hand moves to rest on Jack’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Dean nods back. “Yeah. Thanks, kid.”

…

It takes another two months before Sam asks.

“You ever think about quitting? Like, for real?”

He says it around a smoothie full of something green that Dean will never be able to make himself drink, and Dean wonders how he can sound so casual.

“Do I think about it? Sure,” Dean responds evenly. Dismissively.

“Okay.” Sam blinks. “So do you… think you’d ever do it?”

Dean responds automatically, “Nope.”

Sam looks taken aback, but Dean thinks that he shouldn’t. Out of anyone, Dean thinks Sam should understand.

“No?” Sam presses.

Dean shrugs, but he knows Sam sees through it.

“I mean, guys like me aren’t really meant to leave the life, you know?” Dean responds.

“Guys like us,” Sam corrects, not looking at Dean. “You mean guys like us.”

Dean shakes his head. “It’s not like that, Sam. If you want out, you know I support that— hell, I’ll be the first one to tell you to do it!”

“Dean, stop!” Sam holds up a hand. “I know. I’m not accusing you of—dragging me down, or whatever you think this is. I just… I think that you’re not even giving yourself a chance.”

Dean moves his head in a messy and slight impression of a nod. He can’t do this.

“I don’t think I get any more chances,”  Dean says quietly.

He knows Sam’s going to argue, knows that it’s probably not even true, but all he can think about is this blood on his hands and the way that his shoulders still ache from things he no longer has to carry.

“Dean, that’s—I’m not even gonna try to address all of the implications of that. Just,” Sam takes a deep breath, “I think there are things you haven’t even considered that might be worth thinking about.”

Dean huffs a laugh.

“Yeah? Like what?”

Sam doesn’t answer, just sighs in defeat, but Dean doesn’t miss the way that his own eyes drift towards the room he knows Cas is sleeping in.

…

He hasn’t hunted in weeks, and Dean is spiralling.

He’s trying to live without this, trying to make decisions as a human choosing rather than hamster running, but he thinks maybe he wasn’t cut out for this, for freedom.

Maybe humans aren’t as different from angels as he thought.

There have always been orders to follow, whether divine or from his father, and Dean doesn’t know what to do without them.

He needs a hunt, needs the high of it, needs to save someone. He needs to be a hunter.

Dean has his phone in his hand, ready to look for the next case when the text comes through.

Have you seen the movie The Road to El Dorado?

Dean almost laughs out loud. His best guess is that Cas is only asking for Jack’s sake, but Dean can’t say it didn’t catch him off guard.

kids movie, right? Never seen it

Dean has barely hit send when Cas’s caller ID flashes on his phone screen.

He shakes his head, but he can’t help but smile.

“What do you want?” Dean asks into the phone. His voice is good-natured.

“I think it’s a good movie,” Cas responds, and Dean almost forgets what movie they’re talking about in the first place.

“Okay?” Dean answers, waiting for the point. “Is this you asking me to watch a movie with you?

“No,” Cas says, and Dean can hear the excitement in his voice even over the phone. “This is me asking you to go on an adventure with me.”

…

Dean has been on so many roadtrips in his life that he’s shocked they don’t all blend together.

None of the past ones, though, can even compete with this one.

Dean didn’t really believe in it in the beginning; Cas and Jack wanted the kind of adventure that you only saw in animated movies instead of the kind that ends in tragedy. Dean knew even as he said yes that it wasn’t real, this idea of chasing a horizon that glows instead of bleeds, but he almost dared to hope that they’d be right.

Now, they’re in the car, and it feels like they’ve been here a million times, only they haven’t because this time they’re headed towards the coastline instead of a monster. Dean’s driving, so Sam is sitting shotgun while Jack and Cas sit together in the back. Dean can’t explain exactly what he’s feeling as they drive into the setting skyline, but he thinks he likes it.

He thinks maybe bloodlust can be filled by wanderlust instead, maybe the ache in his chest is just the part of him that’s meant for softer, better things.

Maybe El Dorado isn’t real, but the journey there is.

…

The journey is almost over, now.

Soon, they will pack up and turn back, and Dean will try to piece himself together and figure out who he is without this story that has filled him for so long.

He thinks maybe it’s not just the roadtrip that he can feel coming to a close.

His fingers still ache to pull a trigger some days. He has scars that still smart, phantom aches from wounds healed long ago. He has a lifetime behind him and within him, and he still isn’t sure what to do with that.

For now, though, the sun is streaming into his room through the crack between curtains in the motel, and Dean wants to feel it before it sets.

Cas is already outside when Dean walks out.

Dean shakes his head, face breaking into a smile.

Cas is sitting crosslegged in the middle of the motel parking lot, and his face is turned to the sky.

It’s so achingly innocent, so Cas, that Dean almost has to turn around and walk back inside at the pang in his chest.

He thinks a lifetime ago, he would have. Back then, he would’ve seen Cas there, sitting alone, and he wouldn’t have known what to do. He would have run away.

Now, though, he thinks he’s too tired. Maybe it’s because he’s grown in courage or maybe just in years, but he keeps walking.

He doesn’t stop until he lowers himself down next to Cas, and Dean thinks the decision was worth it just to see the brilliant smile that splits his face.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas greets.

“Hey, Cas.”

Cas gestures (rather unnecessarily) at the sky, which has just begun to turn.

“The sunset tonight is one of the best I’ve seen,” Cas says softly.

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “It’s not bad.”

Cas breathes in the air around him like he might be able to pull the colors inside him.

“How are you, Dean?” he asks suddenly.

Dean tries not to balk at the question.

“You know me,” Dean dismisses. “I’m always good.”

“I do know you,” Cas agrees. “That’s exactly how I know that you are not ‘always good.’”

Dean shrugs. “Maybe not always. But now? Yeah. I’m good.”

Cas hums a contented noise, but he doesn’t stop.

“And later?”

Dean looks at him in confusion.

“How d’you expect me to know how I’m gonna feel later?”

Cas shakes his head.

“That’s not what I meant,” Cas says. “I meant in general. The future.”

“That’s a pretty heavy question for a Saturday night, Cas,” Dean responds.

“Well?” Cas shoots back, still waiting on the response.

Dean doesn’t know.

He’s not actually trying to be difficult, but the future isn’t something he’s ever had to think about before.

“I’m… better,” Dean answers carefully. That’s the only answer he really has. At least it’s honest.

“But still not good,” Cas finishes.

Dean objects, “Hey, I didn’t say that. I’m not suffering or anything.”

“Good,” Cas agrees. “That’s good.”

Without meaning to, Dean’s hand bumps Cas’s, and for a fraction of a second, Dean almost panics.

Dean is tired of pretending.

He gave up months ago trying to pretend that there wasn’t anything he wanted from Cas, but he can’t imagine what Cas’s thoughts on the matter are.

Cas must have thought it was on purpose, and Dean doesn’t think he can ask this of Cas, but Cas barely gives Dean the chance to doubt himself before he takes Dean’s hand in his.

He doesn’t even look at Dean as he does it, just entertwines their fingers like they belong like this.

Dean thinks that maybe they do.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean asks, breaking the silence between them.

“Hmmm?”

Dean sighs.

“Do you think I should stop hunting?”

At that, Cas turns to look Dean in the eyes.

“I think…” Dean can see the care that Cas is taking in choosing his words, “I think that you have a lot to consider.”

It’s a non-answer, but Dean nods anyways. He thinks it’s probably for the best that no one will tell him what to do. He thinks he might have to figure this out himself, but that doesn’t mean it will be alone.

The sunset spreads out before them.

Dean shifts his position, taking care not to displace Cas’s hand.

“I guess the part that’s messing me up is just—what now?” Dean asks, and uncertainty colors his voice. Dean wishes Cas couldn’t hear how afraid he is.

Cas smiles a gentle reassurance, hand still in Dean’s and eyes still on the horizon.

“Now,” Cas says softly, “we carry on.”

Dean brings their hands to eye level, brushing his lips to Cas’s fingers. He nods.

Carry on.

Thank you to everyone who has shared or supported during Suptober! This has been a wild ride, and I may not have posted every day (you know, life), but I sure wrote more than I would have otherwise, so thanks to everyone involved <33 Obviously, huge shoutout to @winchester-reload for sparking so much creativity and fandom solidarity 

If anyone is interested, here’s my masterpost of my suptober fics

[btsficsforthehumble]

adj.: 1. Modern, unfamiliar, or different

2. Not based on or conforming to what is generally done or believed

pairing: reader x ot7

genre: college au; angst, fluff, smut, poly, ot7

Summary: You begin your first year at a prestigious university, set out on achieving your academic goals when a series of men step into your life that change the way you view the definition of love.

Part Five

Warnings: none in this chapter

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: New characters, yay! Just an fyi but I would like to start posting one chapter every week... thots?? Also, I've been thinking of adding a taglist? sksk I know it would be small but I personally love to get tagged when new chapters come out for my faves. If that's something ya'll would like comment so I know!! Alright, back to your regularly scheduled program :)

----

Literature was next. Now this? This you could handle. Always being a bit of an avid reader, you could devour a novel in one night --- and you often did. Finding the hidden meanings between the lines of text, like unwrapping a present, gave you a thrill. You were the person who could debate for hours about the meaning of a symbol in a book, as annoying as that is to everyone else.

Maybe it was the promise of escape, where you could be transplanted into another world, detached from your own, that appealed so much to you about reading. You could lose yourself, feeling the rush of the love affair or the thrill of a dangerous adventure. Coupled with your analytical nature, you felt more than at home in a literature classroom.

With this in mind, you make your way to your next class with more vigor than usual. When you arrive and take a seat, you pull out your materials and wait for class to begin.

Several minutes later, your professor walks to the podium in the front of the room to introduce herself. After several minutes of reviewing the syllabus, she explains the structure of the class. You were to be placed in small groups, to discuss the readings and write a paper at the end of the semester. This made you a little nervous --- having to rely on others to some capacity for your grade always gave you a bit of anxiety.

She began reading out the names of the students belonging to each group, so you listen carefully as to not miss your own name despite your anxious thoughts swirling inside your head.

“... Eum Hee-Young, Gal Ae-Cha, Ree Mun-Hee, you are group seven. Kim Seokjin, Y/l/n y/f/n, Kim Namjoon, you are group eight. Ok Youngsoo…” her voice fades off as you glance around the room, trying to meet the gazes of other searching eyes as your group was announced.

Your eyes meet those of a guy who looked maybe a year or two older than you, with round, wire frame glasses. His mahogany hair was pushed off of his forehead, parted to the side giving him a youthful but put-together look. He holds up eight fingers, looking at you expectedly, and you nod quickly. He picks up his belongings, preparing to move to you as you had empty space in the seats around you. As he slings his backpack over a shoulder, you scan your eyes around the room to try to catch the other member of your group.

To your surprise, your eyes meet those of the same boy you had ogled over yesterday in your calculus class, before it had started. You shyly hold up your own eight fingers, to which he gives a decisive nod to, and begins to make his way to you as well. You can’t help but notice the planes of his back as he bends down to grab his backpack, his wide shoulders tilting making them seem even larger. He is wearing a simple blue button down and jeans, but even through that you could tell his shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, making him have the perfect masculine inverted triangular build.

Slightly embarrassed at your thoughts, you glance at your other partner, now close to you. His oversized yellow knit sweater swallowed him a little, but with the glasses gave him a cute bookish look. His large frame juxtaposed his cute appearance --- he was on the taller side and seemed built as well. You made eye contact, and gestured to the seat next to you for him to sit. The other boy now approaching, you both watch as he takes the other open seat in front of you.

Your group now assembled, you tune back into your professor who was explaining the first text you were to read together. She told you that it was a short love story that relied heavily on symbolism and became a prominent symbol in and of itself in movies and television. Your first assignment was to analyze the symbolism of the text, and come to a more complex conclusion than what the surface of the text presents. You could feel yourself becoming slightly excited to jump into the assignment as she explained.

“You will be given the rest of class to get acquainted with your group members. They will be permanent, bar any issues that may arise. The first assignment is due at the end of next class. While on this first assignment I will be more lenient with grading, please do your best and set a good standard for your groups. Okay, go ahead everyone,” she finishes.

At her dismissal of your attention, you glance back at your group members. The boy with glasses speaks first. “I’m Namjoon, nice to meet you guys.”

“Seokjin, or just Jin,” the other boy gives.

“I’m y/n, nice to meet you both.”

“So, what year and major are you? I’m a third year, and a journalism major,” Namjoon offers. As he speaks, he gives you both a grin that displays deep dimples on both cheeks. He was very cute, you decided. He had a nerdy charm to him, with a build on the beefy side that made you want to cuddle him.

“I’m a first year… and to tell the truth I haven’t decided on a major yet,” you admit, but give them both a smile.

“Ah, hoobae, you are lucky you are with us pros then! I’m a fourth year, and a business major,” Seokjin says with a wide smile.

“Sunbaenim, are you in calculus before this? I thought I recognized you from there,” you downplay a little. You knew he was in that class since you had spent time checking him out in it, but didn’t want to seem creepy.

“I have a recognizable face.” At this he gives a smug look, but is clearly using a joking tone. “Yeah, calculus with Yoo at nine?”

“Yep. That guy goes so fast,” you frown. “But anyways, how do you guys feel about this assignment?”

Namjoon enters the conversation again, “Honestly I’m kind of excited for it. It’s been a while since I’ve done any reading that isn’t research related, which kind of sucks.”

“That does suck. I love to read, that’s why I took this class, actually,” you empathize.

“Yeah? What do you like to read?” Namjoon leans towards you a bit, excited at the prospect of talking about reading it seems.

“Oh, um… I’d say my favorite genre is probably any type of fantasy, I like being able to be in a different world for a bit. Oh, I also like historical pieces, that stuff is always so interesting.” You were a little hesitant to share, afraid he’d judge your preferences.

“I love historical pieces. I think that’s one of the things that lead me into journalism actually, it’s basically writing history for those in the future to look back on. I just think that’s really cool.” His eyes seemed glitter as he talked about something he was obviously passionate about. You felt yourself developing a soft spot for the boy, finding his friendly disposition and slightly nerdy personality to be incredibly endearing. It didn’t hurt he was also very attractive.

“What about you sunbaenim? Do you like to read?” you ask Seokjin, whose head was oscillating between you and Namjoon.

Surprised the attention shifted to him, his eyes widened to give him an owlish look. You are really surrounded by some beautiful men, you think. What do they put in the water here? It would be normal to run across a cute guy here or there, but this is kind of ridiculous. Seokjin himself has a face that is so beautiful it looks like it should have been carved out of marble!

Focus! You have to scold yourself. The boy you were just admiring in your head is now answering your question and you are too distracted to even process what he’s saying.

“... not too crazy, occasionally I guess…” His body language told you that he was slightly embarrassed at not being as enthusiastic a reader as you and Namjoon.

“I’m sure you have hobbies that are cooler than reading then, if I was athletic or creative I wouldn’t read so much either! Namjoon-sunbaenim, I’m sure you agree,” you encourage with a smile, wanting Namjoon to follow suit in making Seokjin feel comfortable.

Thankfully, he catches on quick. “Oh, yeah, I am way too clumsy to do anything more high stakes than page turning,” He chuckles. You and Seokjin both smile at Namjoon’s subtle self-deprecation. They both were sweet, you think. Your earlier fears about working with others subside. “I guess I could say that I do have another hobby though, I actually help out at the school’s radio station for fun,” Namjoon adds shyly.

Jin tilts his head in surprise. “Oh really? I have a friend who…”

He gets abruptly cut off by the professor’s voice echoing through the room, which causes him to stop his thought.

“Hopefully everyone is acquainted now, and is ready to get to work next class. I expect good things from you all this semester. You are dismissed,” your professor says with finality.

The three of you quickly gather your things, ready to merge with the swarm of students streaming out of the door. You give them both a smile, and say, “It was nice meeting you both. See you next class!” to which they give their own farewell.

As you leave, you check your phone out of habit. It seems your intuition is right, as usual.

*Miss me yet?*

Does Taehyung really have nothing better to do?

*What exactly is there to miss?*

You hope that after your curt response he’d get the memo. This guy is such a fuckboy, you think. While you don’t know why he set his sights on you for now, you hope he gets bored soon. While you give that tough persona to him, the truth is you are more sensitive than that. The idea of being used for sex once and then discarded was unappealing, and Taehyung seemed like the type to do just that.

----

Finally home after attending two more classes for the day, which were thankfully much less eventful, you slip off your shoes and let your bag slide off your shoulder to thunk on the floor. You were tired. And hungry, apparently, because your stomach makes some concerning noises as soon as you slip your light jacket off. You make your way to the kitchen at the sound, ready to make a nice dinner and decompress.

When you get there, you see one of your new roommates sitting at the stools for your kitchen counter. This roommate was one that you had connected with immediately, drawn to her blunt but fun-loving aura. Her short stature, shorter than average, gave no warning for her and ‘gives-no-fucks’ attitude. You could tell however, that inside she had a soft heart. Even in your short time together, you had seen glimpses of it here and there.

You learned when you had met that she had moved to Korea from America last year, making her a second year at your university. Her features stood out from the crowd, with brown skin and large curls that framed her face in a halo. She was really quite beautiful. Tia, but called Bean by her friends, which now included you, made you feel welcomed to campus and you were thankful for her.

Wanting to not scare her as you walked into the kitchen, you gave her a greeting. Her head pops up from where it was buried in her phone, which had been drawing her into her own world.

“Hey chickie. Long day?” she asks. Apparently your exhaustion was pretty obvious if she could tell right off the bat. You sigh, bending over to pull some vegetables out of the fridge.

“I just want to know who let me schedule four classes on Tuesdays. They should be in jail,” you complain.

She gives you an amused look, watching you now stand at the cutting board to prepare your food. “I think that person was you, sweet thing.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. If I could go back in time and slap my past self I would,” you grown with your head tipped back. She lets out a laugh at your expense.

“Don’t laugh at me unnie! I’m going to pass away from exhaustion over here!” you try to say seriously, but can’t help but let out a little giggle. “What were you doing with your head buried in your phone, huh? Are you talking to someone?” you tease, pointing your knife at her with your other hand on your hip.

“Why, do you wish it was you?” She wiggles her eyebrows, giving you a side smirk. You knew she was deflecting, so you lift your eyebrow and give her a flat expression, waiting for her real answer. “Ugh, it’s nothing. There was just this really cute girl in my class today, and I tried talking to her but she didn’t really seem like she liked me… and I may have just been looking at her social media,” Tia admitted.

Now at the stove, stirring your dinner, you look over your shoulder to say something that would hopefully ease her anxiety. “You know that you can come on strong sometimes, maybe she’s just a little shy, ya know? Maybe try again with a softer approach,” you offer. “What is there not to like?”

She gives you a wide grin to match your own at your last remark. You both giggle, any tension in the air from Tia’s concerns gone. Dinner now finished, you grab two bowls and serve you both. You both slip into easy banter, almost like you two have been friends for years. You hope that you will be, someday.