#I could save money and time and be happier in literally every single way

[wewontbesleeping]

I can’t live without a dishwasher any longer it’s ruining my life

[no-droids]

Ch 17 was so, so, so good (thank you!!) 🥺 i am still processing. ((Edit: this turned into an essay so i Am Very Sorry in advance, there is a tldr at the end though))

First of all. We get to see Din going through it the same way sweet girl was a couple chapters ago and I love it! She’s been so clear from the start that she doesn’t want to run away from him and now Din’s getting to the point where he doesn’t want to chase her anymore because he just wants her to be physically there with him again. The second night of comms while she’s camped out at the orphanage?? “I thought this was going to be alright, but I hate it.” ??????????? i am a Puddle of Emotions no one look at me 😭

And then the way he’s so unsure about whether she hasnt begun to reconsider wanting to keep up with his bounty-hunter life now that she’s finally gotten a break if being forced to outrun a mandalorian can be really even be called a break for the first time in a year?? And he can SEE all the places she’s stopped to talk to people on this planet (his comment about the number of times the blond guy turned around to talk to her in the line? 🥺.) Din knows she’s enjoying these small encounters with people, getting to interact with a new planet and learn new things as she’s making her way through each place, and since they’re only talking at night he gets to think about it literally all day long as he follows her trail and tries to figure out what her plan is. This is truly an exercise in Din thinking nonstop about sweet girl (which ofc he does already, but like, thinking critically about what she thinks/wants/does/needs and why) and I feel like that’s causing him to slowly start to second guess himself in terms of where he would put himself on sweet girl’s list of priorities. And I wonder how much of this he’s actually considering for the first time? because it’s always him who leaves and comes back when he gets jobs — this is the first time that sweet girl has left him instead of the other way around. Sweet girl has had tons of time to think about these things, whereas Din hasn’t really had to... because it’s not the one who leaves who feels the absence most, it’s the one who’s left behind (even if just temporarily).

I can just picture Din’s increasing doubts as the chase keeps going, whether he’s worth putting up with his lifestyle and whether sweet girl wouldn’t rather have a life like the people he sees in the footprints around hers? because he knows her, knows she likes soft beds and meeting people and fresh fruit and beautiful scenery, which are all things that living on the razor crest can’t always provide except for the last one bc Din Djarin IS beautiful scenery let’s be clear and just. the ANGST. I cannot. ( a n d meanwhile sweet girl is having a breakdown thinking he wants to STOP looking and LEAVE her? As if)

So when she shuts down his tentative doubts about it on the second night she’s at the orphanage and Din starts asking questions about favorite animals and flowers and things?? 🥺🥺🥺🥺 I lost it. Din is mirroring the love and care he receives from sweet girl (and learning to tap into those emotions as he does) and I am just in awe of both his character development from ch 1 to here and your ability to show that gradual shift in your writing.

Tl;dr thank you very much for this latest chapter! I will continue to be a soft emotional little puddle for the foreseeable future, or at least until I can figure out to scrape myself off the floor and function like a human being who has not just read rough day ch 17 and promptly dissolved as a direct result🌻

okay

okay first of all ma’am/sir/friend, please do not put tl;dr’s on a fucking MASTERFUL DISSECTION LIKE THAT like I genuinely hope people read every word of what you have written because you’re so spot on about everything that I was almost taken aback JEJFJJDJFJF

I would like to say, and I need to do this in list form because you have presented so many beautiful points that I’d like to address them one by one,

1.) Din Djarin is used to being alone. Full stop. Like even with sweet girl helping out with the baby and agreeing to stay on the ship while he goes and grabs quarry, he’s gone for weeks sometimes. He is used to being by himself, to fending for himself, protecting himself, patching himself up, EVERYTHING by himself. He is the most independent self-sufficient driven bounty hunter Karga has on the payroll and he’s reliable, which is why Karga would give him four pucks at a time. Giving anyone else four pucks would mean that if they happened to die during their hunts, then more than one puck would be lost and that’s money down the drain. Din doesn’t die, he always comes back with all four bodies and he’s fucking quick about it. Him telling sweet girl “I thought this was gonna be alright” is apt, because he’s been able to exist without her and do good work while he knows she’s safe on the Crest. In fact, the only time he EVER didn’t do good work is when a) she was attacked on the Crest on Corellia, or b) when he desperately wanted to get back to her as quick as possible and he pushed himself too hard and put himself in danger (aka frozen on Hoth scene). And actually c) when he stole Grogu back from the empire and had Karga and the guild on his ass about it. Those were the only times Din had trouble doing his job. The only times he stopped looking and gave up. “I thought this was going to be alright, but I hate it” means that YES ABSOLUTELY DIN DJARIN DOES NOT LIKE STAYING PUT WHILE SHE LEAVES, even though he’s okay with going out and doing his job when she stays. Even though he’s still hunting, it’s like the roles have been reversed. She’s understanding his side, and he’s understanding her side. It’s been 4 days and he hates it, so imagine weeks or months of that. Not being able to move or chase after her either, just hanging out on the crest with Grogu and waiting to see if she’ll be able to make it back. Which

2.) makes it hurt just a lil more in that wonderful delicious angsty way when he actually asks if she wants this life. On Naboo, he didn’t know where she went or where the kid was—he didn’t know if they were in danger, if she was safe. He said he’d rip the galaxy apart to find her if she ever disappeared like that again. But... she’d be safe on Sanctuary II. This is different, and just like you said, he’s had multiple days where all he did was try to think like her. Get in her head, predict her. Understand her more than he’s ever attempted to do before, in a NECESSARY capacity, like he would a bounty he’s hunting. Din Djarin is used to being alone. He’s used to being silent and that’s how connections are severed before they can even be established. His only practice at empathy was through his job, a job that he is very very good at, but it was never enough to get him to stop looking. He would never be able to empathize enough to ask if the bounty wanted him to stop looking for them. Even with the baby, he turned him in at first and then let the guilt eat him alive before going back to save him. So, if you couple that with his true connection to sweet girl, the natural empathy he has for her and the kid (him immediately following her after he accidentally snapped at her on the Crest and apologizing) and Din is now TRULY beginning to understand her on a level he’s never experienced with another person

3.) BUT!!! Even though he “needed to ask” (meaning he understood enough to know that asking the question was necessary) he started out the entire conversation by admitting he doesn’t think he could do it. Before ever telling her what specifically he doesn’t think he could do, he already knows this about himself and says it flat out. I don’t think I could. Even if you asked me to, even if you said you’d be happier if I did, even if you told me right now that it’s what you wanted, I don’t think I could ever stop looking. And a lot of the turmoil he experiences is because of that. I make you sleep on the floor. I teach you to fight when you just want to look at waterfalls. I do all these things that you’d never willingly do yourself, and I’m a bad person BECAUSE I still want you to always be here with me in spite of all that.

4.) Meanwhile sweet girl just has no fucking clue all this is happening and it seems to come out of nowhere, all she knows is that he’s been in the city when he should’ve caught up to her days ago. She’s out experiencing things and meeting new people and yet she always comes back to Din and the baby and how much they should be here with her. She tries to come up with clever ways to outthink him but she also offers to give her coordinates to him practically every single night. Her wanting to be with him so bad but trying to hold out (“ask me again tomorrow”) while Din is also wanting to be with her so bad and also trying to hold out (“find her again tomorrow”) 🥺

So yeah basically in conclusion I love them together and they’re so different but they make each other somehow both stronger and softer in so many ways and yeah u mighta heard of DD/LG u kinky fucks but lemme present to u DD/SG

[earthly--truth]

What I believe in

These are my beliefs as someone who aligns with democratic socialism and progressivism. Feel free to critique it, challenge it, even just a few sections, whatever, but this is what I believe will make the world a better place, because people (and animals) deserve to live the best possible lives they can live with the only chance at life they got. This is going to be super general and long, and not get into nearly everything, but I hope it sheds a positive light on leftism.

Strong unions so that workers (the majority of people in society) have the ability have better footing to negotiate better wages, work hours, vacation days, benefits, etc. I also believe that in instances where it’s pragmatically viable that there should be a push for more worker co-op’s, in which every employee has a stake in the company they work at, and the ability to give their input (all companies should strive for more democracy). Both of these contribute to healthier, happier, and, and better payed people.

Raising the minimum wage in the U.S to $15 an hour. The current wage of  $7.25 is way too low. It’s just not a livable wage. There’s a reason why McDonald’s and Walmart are called corporate welfare queens, and it’s because they’re employees require welfare to survive, despite being the biggest corporations on the planet with multi-billionaire CEO’s. The richest in society should also pay more in taxes.

Stop investing so much in the American military, cut it by a third if you can. (Firstly this frees up a lot of money for other things) Get the military out of the middle east, and create other more peaceful avenues to ensure it doesn’t crumble like every single time the military pulls out and doesn’t try to actually fix the mess they created. The people in the middle east deserve to be able to rebuild and they’ll need help to do that (just not the type of help where america installs their own leaders).

Healthcare should be universal, paid for by taxes. Every developed nation is capable of doing it. Many developing countries are doing it. Americans pay more in taxes for healthcare than so many other countries, yet a trip to the hospital still can put you in debt for the rest of your life. That is inhumane, and people shouldn’t have to choose between crippling debt and their health.

There’s also an argument to be made for free/way cheaper university, since countries like Canada or America force people to get a degree if they want to live a decent life, yet in order to do that you have to pay $15,000 a year for university. A system like that either forces people to skip out on uni, or again go into major debt. If Europe can figure it out, I think the U.S and Canada can figure it out too.

Black Lives Matter. To be more specific, I want police/criminal justice/prison reform. I want police de-militarized and to stop acting so abusive towards to civilians and real justice for the police that do, I want an end on the war on drugs (this helps drug addicts get help and delivers a blow to gangs and the cartel). I want an end to mass incarceration and laws that make it easier to throw people in jail for years for basically nothing. I want an end to for profit prisons. I want an end to the policy of retribution rather than rehabilitation for inmates (countries who rehabilitate are way more successful at non-returning inmates). I want an end to treating prisoners like slaves so corporations can get cheap labour. I also want the government to actually start caring about the poorest communities, many of which are predominantly black and latino (in cities anyways). (Also the indigenous in Canada). Better infrastructure, better public works programs. These all contribute to the proliferation of these communities and helps lessen the potential for criminality by making their lives better.

The dismantling of gender norms and roles, and de-stigmatization of LGBTQ+ people. I want people to be whoever they want to be. For far too long we have expected men and women to act a certain way. Women have come a long way, but there are still remnants of the old way of looking at things. We still have a lot of social stigma about how women should look, and that they are not worth even paying attention to if they aren’t conventionally attractive. We still have social stigma about sexuality and sex work. We hyper sexualize women in the media, yet shame women as sluts if they have a lot of sex. We shame women who choose abortion as murderers, yet don’t offer any support for the mother once the child has arrived. On top of that, the positions of power are still predominantly very old men. I also believe in helping men. Men are lonelier, men are increasingly staying sexless (not by choice), men are getting more suicidal. I want to address this two ways. One, by tackling toxic masculinity (not masculinity itself, just the bad parts). TM is telling men to man up and not to cry, TM is telling men not to act feminine or gay. TM is telling men to bottle up their emotions and resolve their problems through violence. The second way to address this is through my beliefs about workers. Men are the most suicidal in countries where there is a heavy work culture, like Japan and South Korea. Where they can’t have lives, and live to make money for the company they work at. That isn’t good.

When it comes to LGBTQ+ people, we need more positive representation in the media. We need people to see gay, trans, and non-binary people as normal people. When it comes to trans people specifically, we need to end the constant wars against them. Whether you’re talking about bathrooms, or sports, or children/teens receiving trans affirming healthcare. Let trans people be the gender that they say there are in the places they want to be, and allow them to receive the healthcare they need which is just the overwhelming medical consensus. This, combined with more supportive parents. all goes a long way to reducing the suicide rate amonst trans people.

The proliferation of the developing world. I want developing countries to be more autonomous, and to stop being under the boot of western corporations. I want an end to sweatshop labour or borderline sweatshop labour. I want the west to stop treating these actual people like their robots for pennies to produce our ungodly amounts of junk, and to actually pay these people decent wages. I want the world bank to stop giving money in an exploitative way to poor nations so that they cave to western business interests. These are people, human beings, and they deserve to develop and live good lives just like us. I also want them to fight for democracy in their countries.

Environmentalism. To go off the last section, 100 Corporations are contributing 71% of greenhouse gases. That needs to change. Corporations are participating ungodly amounts of devastations to eco-systems and the atmosphere. Ecosystems destroyed, and the exacerbation of the climate crises. I want a green and blue earth, and that can start by a) changing to green energy as much as humanly possible; solar, wind, and even nuclear (and whatever we come up with in the future) are far better than the fossil fuels we use now, which we’ll run out of anyways. And second we need to hold corporations accountable for destroying the planet. If we don’t do this, we risk the climate crises getting really bad. Oceans rising which will flood coastlines, creating millions of refugees, more periods of extreme dry (no water/bush fires) and extreme cold (look at what happened to texas). Something needs to be done about it.

Finally, veganism, for many reasons. One, the switch to veganism will be a big contributor to saving the planet. Whether you’re talking about the devastation we do to places like the Amazon Rain forest and other ecosystems to clear the way for animal farming, or whether you’re talking about reducing emissions. Most emissions and waste from agriculture are from the production phase of animal farming. So much food, water, and energy is wasted by giving it to billions of animals that we purposefully breed into existence, then slaughter, rinse and repeat, every single year, when we could just grow food and give water to people and skip out the middle man (think about how many people are hungry and without water in the world).

Philosophically, it is also wrong to kill a living creature that desires to live, that is able to connect with other living things and it surrounding, to form bonds. A cow, pig, chicken, lamb, sheep, are no different than a dog, cat, or rabbit, and they should not be killed, exploited, and tortured (confinement, abusive conditions in industrial farms) for pleasure. I know it’s pleasure for most people, because vegans are living proof that you can live happy and healthy lives without animal products. Vegans are statistically healthier than non-vegans, and we can get all the nutrients we need, even on an inexpensive diet. There are exceptions of course. A very small portion of people literally cannot eat plants and can only eat meat, and the developing world doesn’t have the same access to vegan products as the developed world does. Those people are valid, but many many people can make the switch and they should, especially in the developed world

All I see from this is making the world better. Hopefully you can too.

[starryevermore]

A Gift For a Gift

I’m sorry this is so long and if you see any grammatical errors, no you don’t <3 lol anyway I just wanted to write something for you since you write so much for us! Thanks so much Kayla, we love you! (I also cannot for the life of me figure out the read more thing, so I am sorry again lol) (Kayla here! I added a read more for you 🥰)

Colby fucking hated Valentine’s Day. For most of his teenage life, if he saw those stupid hearts and those goddamn teddy bears, he was instantly in a worse mood. Most years, it made sense why he hated the holiday. He’d been single a long time, and even when he had a girlfriend, he hadn’t had the money to give his girl a proper date. He always tried, but it never seemed good enough. His mind would always go back to one year in particular where he’d tried to set up a picnic for a girl in the living room of his house. He was 15 so he had no car or money, and it was Kansas, so there was a foot of snow on the ground anyway. He’d gone all out. He asked his mom to bring home some balloons and flowers and all that gross shit just so the aesthetic was perfect. He then tried to actually cook food. Himself. At fifteen years old. For the first time. When he tells this story and says Mama Brock came running with the fire extinguisher, he’s not kidding. His mom made the meal. 

At the cost of his whole day (and nearly his home), his girlfriend came over and laughed. Not in a cute way or in disbelief, but laughed in his face over his efforts. She picked apart every inch of the room he had decorated and told him it was ugly. Apparently he had used the wrong shade of red? He hadn’t realized that it mattered, but “barnyard red” was not right. She said the balloons were tacky and the flowers were meaningless because they weren’t roses. She refused to eat the meal because it was cold (since she’d shown up an hour late), and then broke up with him on the spot. 

So yeah. Colby fucking hated Valentine’s Day most of the time. This year was different, though. He had met the love of his life. He was convinced you were the one he was supposed to be with all this time. He’d waited and it was worth it. And you loved Valentine’s Day. The pinks and reds made you happier than anything else. He’d never seen someone get so giddy over seeing a pink bear with a heart on it’s foot until he’d met her. Every trip to Target was punctuated with a visit to the dreaded candy section. But he saw you smile at every silly pun on the backs of the card boxes. You laughed at the ridiculous couples games. You hugged at least one bear every time and forced it to hug him too. You were happy. This time of year and celebration made you happy. And damn it that was enough to put aside his petty hatred for this capitalist cash-grab of a holiday and come up with the most kickass Valentine’s Day date he ever could. 

He hadn’t realized how hard that would be. He was a hopeless romantic, but he was also hopelessly self-destructive. He would come up with an idea and every scenario started beautifully in his imagination, but every time each scenario ended with something awful. He thought you two could go to the beach, but then he imagined you falling into the water and getting salt in your eyes. Maybe you two could go to the movies, but then you could get stuck in front of two teenagers who weren’t aware that just because a room is dark, the sounds they were making weren’t audible. 

This cycle went on for a long time. It took so long, he actually forgot what day it was. He’d begun planning the second February hit. He checked the calendar and realized he only had a week until The Day. Fuck. Had it really been a week? He felt like his head was swimming. His final brain cell was short circuiting and his head literally had no thoughts left in it, only fuzz. His head hadn’t felt this empty while still spinning since he’d learned about imaginary numbers in Algebra II. And he’d never actually learned imaginary numbers. Sam took that test for him. Suddenly, he had one thought. 

“I gotta ask Sam.”

Sam Golbach, per usual, had about a million suggestions. Colby reasoned that since he’d had more experience having an actual girlfriend on The Day, Sam should have more ideas than himself. The only issue is that the brain cell Colby had frazzled trying to come up with a date was usually shared between him and Sam, so Sam had all of the same ideas Colby did. He suggested the beach and the movie and the dinner and blah blah blah, so Colby was literally at square one. Sam was supposed to fix all of these issues. He had the brain and the longer relationship, so what the fuck? Why had he picked this time to not have any original idea?

“Colby.” Sam shook Colby’s arm.

“Jesus dude, you scared me. What?”

“You’ve been staring at the carpet for like 30 seconds. I know what it looks like when you’re mentally drifting. That’s the only kind you can do, if our video had anything to prove.” Sam smirked, knowing full well that Colby had taken second place in that challenge. 

“Shut up, dude. You had more time driving manual. I just learned there.” Colby knew his defense was weak, but it was a defense nonetheless.

“And you did well.”

“Don’t patronize me. I killed that car like twelve times. It feels like I’m going to end up doing the same with this relationship.” Colby sighed and rubbed his face. He held his hands there, flush against his cheeks. He could feel himself heating up and the cool metal of his rings, one of which you gave him, always helped keep him grounded. Sam grabbed his shoulder and shook him again.

“Would you shut the fuck up?” 

Colby removed his hands from his face, side-eyeing Sam, surprised “What the hell, Sam?” 

“Someone needed to say it. You’re talking yourself down again. Yeah, you killed the car. But you learned. You’ll do the same thing here. If you mess up, who cares? You tried! You need to realize that perfection isn’t attainable, so stop trying to attain it. You don’t have anything to be afraid of. Anything you do will make her happy. Because it’s you. She loves you. Any situation or plan can go wrong. We of all people should fucking know that. But don’t let fear stop you. You never have before. So what is your problem?” Sam asked, softening the harshness of some of his words by rubbing comforting circles into Colby’s shoulder. 

Sam knew Colby. He knew Colby was afraid. He’d been hurt so many times, and sadly many of those times, the hurt was self-inflicted. Colby held himself to an insane standard that he’d never expect anyone else to live up to, but this was Colby and Colby deserved harsh critique apparently. He refused to let his friend scare himself into doing nothing and then letting that nothing ruin what he had going. (Y/N) and Colby were made for each other. Anything Colby did made your heart swell and just knowing he put in effort would be more than enough. But Colby didn’t know that, or rather, refused to acknowledge that. Sam was getting tired of it. 

“You know her. Just do something she’ll like. Not whatever anyone tells you you should do. She loves you” Sam said, squeezing Colby’s shoulder one more time before dropping his hand to the arm of the chair. Colby smiled and looked at him. 

“Thanks Sam. You’re right, once again. I don’t know how you always know what to say. I love you, dude.”

“Hold up, I’m not your valentine. I said she loved you, not me. Save all that mushy shit for her. You’re wasting your soft energy.” Sam laughed, standing to leave.

“Oh shit, you’re right. Us emo boys can only express positive emotions twice a week and I’ve wasted once on you. How could I be so dumb?” Colby shot sardonically back, returning to his computer to look up restaurants. 

Sam laughed again and walked to the door. He went through and closed it behind him, but Colby knew he was still on the other side, hand on the handle. Colby turned just as Sam quickly stuck his back into the room, quickly whispering “I love you too” before slamming the door again and audibly running down the hall to his room. Colby laughed out loud that time. His friend was an idiot, but they’d be so lost without each other. 

Time to plan the date Colby knew you would like, not the date that was in the movies. He still hated Valentine’s Day. 

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Well everything was going to shit, just as Colby had feared. He had been so proud of himself. He thought of an amazing night. First, you two were going to go to your favorite restaurant and have the meal you’d been saying you craved for two weeks. He’d even called the place ahead of time, asking if they could play your song at a certain time, since they had a live band. He may have had to use some of that influencer clout to get that request, but it was okay. Did he feel like an absolute rat that just ran through the New York City sewer system for doing it? Absolutely. Would he ever do it again? If you asked him to, probably. But not for a long time. 

However, what had failed to happen was a valid reservation. It was Valentine’s Day in Los Angeles, after all. There would be no place in the whole city that wasn’t booked to full capacity. Colby knew that. That’s why he made the reservation directly after his talk with Sam. A week ago. The restaurant accidentally double booked your table. And the other couple had come before you two. Directly before you. As in they were the ones in front of you in line. 

“Well, is there anything we can do?” Colby asked

“Not really, the whole place is booked all night. I’m so sorry. You’ll get a full refund?” The hostess looked down and cringed, seemingly preparing for the Karen reaction. You and Colby just looked at each other and looked back at her apologetically. It must be hell to work here on The Day and deal with all of these rich assholes with an elitist complex. Which is exactly what you said to her. She just laughed lightly and brushed it off, but you and Colby saw the look of acknowledgement in her eyes. You both said your thank yous and goodbye while walking towards the main sidewalk where you’d parked. That had gone right, at least. You both were ecstatic that you’d actually found reasonable, legal parking close to the restaurant in downtown LA. That was a feat.  

Or at least, Colby thought the spot was legal. The ticket on his windshield begged to differ.

“What the hell? We were gone for like ten minutes!” Colby exclaimed, annoyed but impressed at the dedication of the PEO in the area. 

You laughed heartily. Colby’s little cloud of poor luck seemingly didn’t take a holiday. Just one of the nuances you loved about him. You’d always have a story. You could see the doubt creeping into his face and you were about to reprimand it, but you faintly heard your favorite song playing in the distance. The band inside had taste! You gasped and smacked his arm, flapping your other hand excitedly.

“Listen!” You said, pulling him back from the car and taking his hands.

Colby looked down and checked his watch.

“7:45. That’s right.” He flicked his eyes up to your face, coughing awkwardly as he rubbed his neck.

“You planned that?” You smiled, taking his hand back again and pulling him a little closer.

“Yeah… I tried anyway. I planned to be able to hear it a little better, but this is a lesson in using Instagram followers for special treatment I guess.” 

You laughed again and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him close to you. 

“Well, don’t ever do that again obviously, but let’s dance like we did that one time the bouncer wasn’t convinced we were old enough to get into the club.” He giggled at that, remembering the look of bewilderment you two shared when Sam and Kat walked in with no issue. Of course you’d both forgotten your IDs that night. You decided to dance right outside anyway. 

“Okay, but aren’t I supposed to be the one taking the lead?” 

“Fuck gender roles.” You smiled, pulling him even closer and tucking your head beneath his chin, swaying him to the song playing from inside. He laughed again and let you move him around. He wasn’t good at dancing on his own anyway, so maybe you leading was the better decision. He was just letting things happen, slowly allowing himself to just let go and enjoy dancing with you. He felt silly and like he’d failed already, but he was keeping it together. There was still more planned. Where he couldn’t keep his poker face was when you -attempted- to spin him but actually just smacked his face with his own arm. You both giggled lightly and you decided to seal the deal with a sorry attempt at a dip. You forgot that he was taller than you, so gravity decided to join the forces against you two that night. Thankfully you were both near the car still, because Colby was able to keep both of you from the pavement by hitting his back against the door and grabbing onto the handle. You both were laughing hysterically at this point, unable to really form coherent sentences. 

“Just get in the car,” You got out eventually, wiping the tears from your eyes. “And never tell anyone.”

“I don’t plan on it.” Colby said, opening the door for you.

“This is one of the chivalrous acts that I will accept, so don’t ever stop doing that.” You joked, kissing his cheek lightly as you got in.

“Note taken.” Colby laughed, closing the door behind you.

“So Romeo, now that the masquerade is bust, where are we headed?” You asked once he got in and started driving.

“I know that was supposed to be a reference, but I haven’t thought about that play since I was twelve,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Anyway, we’re going somewhere I think of when I think of you.”

You smiled softly at him with that. This boy was a big ol’ softie and he really pretends he’s not. You never bought it. He was incredibly sentimental and sweet, so you knew that wherever you all were going was going to mean a lot to him. Therefore, it would mean a lot to you too. 

You were driving for a long time. You were no longer anywhere close to downtown and you couldn’t help but ask a million questions. Where are we going? Are we there yet? Why are we going here? Where are we going?

“You’ve already asked that.” Colby smiled, endeared by your only-child behavior but slightly annoyed nonetheless. 

“You got me there, Brock. But where are we going?” Colby groaned, leaning forward into the wheel. He reached to his phone and handed it to you with the Aux cord. 

“Please, pick something and stop asking!” 

You smirked and went to his music. Usually, you would go straight to the songs you wanted, but you were being nosy. You decided to go to his playlists and see what he had saved. You were scrolling past the expected “editing” list or the “late night” playlists, but stopped when you saw it. The most recently added list was one simply titled, “Her” with a small heart next to it, the black one of course. You cocked your eyebrow and clicked it. You started looking through the songs and saw all of the songs you’ve recommended to him over your relationship, along with some outliers. You glanced over at him, seeing if he was paying attention. 

He wasn’t. His brain was going at a million miles an hour. He felt like a comeplete fuck up. How was he the one table that was double booked? How had they managed to hit intense traffic at eight and made this drive take half an hour? How were you not bored out of your mind? There’s no way you were having any fun. He continued to stew in these intense thoughts when he’s snapped back to reality by the opening chords of Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.

Shit. She found it. He thought. He risked a glance at you, blushing bright red. Please don’t…

You were smiling widely at him. “You have a playlist for me?” 

“Oh god.”

The rest of the drive flew by, you two screaming lyrics at the top of your lungs once Colby’s embarrassment faded. It reminded you of the first time you had hung out, just you two. You’d discovered a mutual love for early 2000’s emo music, so you two screamed your voices away to the sweet dynamics of My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy until two that morning. You smiled quietly, remembering the fun of that day. You knew this was one special dumbass that day, especially after figuring out he had misheard “down in an earlier round” from Sugar, We’re Going Down as “down on a merry-go-round” for literal years. You had scream-laughed at that and corrected him, laughing even harder as the realization spread across his face. 

“Holy shit.” He’d whispered. “It’s been years…” 

“Hey, we’re here.” Colby startled you out of your daydream. You smiled at him as he climbed out of the car and sprinted to open your door. You laughed, remembering your comments at the restaurant. He opened the door and let you out, beginning the walk towards the location. You recognized this location. It was the neighborhood of the chandelier tree from one of his earliest vlogs. You had seen it and begged for him to take you there. It seemed so cute. You smiled widely at him, placing your hand in his. You swung his hand lightly as you walked, knowing it drove him crazy.

“Would you stop that?” he playfully asked, feigning annoyance. You responded by swinging his arm as far back as you could, saying,

“Careful Brock. Watch the tone or I’ll try and dip you again.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that?” He asked cheekily, taking the piss. 

You laughed again and smacked his arm as you turned the corner to the tree. Or the location of the tree, as there were no chandeliers. 

“What?” Colby asked, mostly to himself. You both looked at each other, confused. You got closer, deciding to let go of each other’s hands as Colby went ahead, trying to see if it was just around another corner or if he was on the wrong block. You pulled out your phone and asked Google.

“Oh, baby. They took this down last month!” You frowned, calling out to him.

“Seriously?” Colby asked, clearly disappointed. Another fuck up. He hadn’t even thought to look up if it was still here or not “Shit.”

You could see the wheels in his head turning, trying to figure out what to say. You were about to reassure him when he lights up, turning to you and exclaiming,

“The park! That pretty lookout Sam and I used to go to all the time! It’s like ten minutes from here, we could go there. I’m sure it’s awesome right now.”

You smiled and were nodding in agreement when a loud bang made the two of you jump ten feet. You looked quizzically at each other when your mutual question was answered by a sudden downpour of rain and flash of lightning. A thunderstorm, of fucking course. Colby removed his jacket, holding it above your head as you both made a break for the car. 

After your dead sprint, you both sat in your seat, heaving breaths and looking out in pure wonder. You looked over to Colby, ready to laugh at the absurdity of the whole night when you saw him slumped forward on the wheel, refusing to look at you, shoulders shaking slightly. 

“Colby, baby, are you okay?” you asked lightly, grabbing his arm. He turned even farther away, opting to lean his head against his window to cool his heating face. He refused to let you see the single tear that was leaving his eye. 

“I’m sorry.” was all he muttered.

You were shocked. “Baby, you don’t control the weather. If you did, I’d be pissed you haven’t fixed global warming yet.” You attempted to joke. He didn’t laugh.

“I failed again. I just wanted to make something special for you. I know you love Valentine’s Day and it means a lot to you. I hate this fucking holiday but I wanted to make you happy. But I fucked it up. Just like I do everything. I mean, it’s raining! In L.A.! What the fuck! There’s nowhere open that’s not booked and it’s already nine and I haven’t even gotten you food and you probably have never had a worse valentine’s-” he tried to rant, but you covered his mouth with your hand. His eyes darted to you, surprised. 

You were beyond hurt. You couldn’t believe he didn’t see how much fun you were having or how much pressure he’d put on himself to make everything perfect. You should’ve guessed as much. You reached your other hand around the back of his neck, moving the one from his mouth to his cheek, kissing him. 

“Would you shut the fuck up?” you said, pulling back. He barked a short laugh out, surprised.

“You know, you’re not the first one to tell me that about this whole thing.”

“You talked to Sam about this date?”

“How’d you know?” He looked at you again, fully flabbergasted. You laughed.

“Do you talk to anyone else about stuff important to you?” He shrugged, clearly thinking it through. 

“Other than you, no, not really.”

“Anyway, he’s right. I don’t care that stuff didn’t work out. You put more thought into this night than anyone else has ever put into any date I’ve ever been on. You poured your heart into it. You thought every little thing through. You tried. And even when things didn’t work out, we had fun. We reminisced on our relationship so far. We danced, screamed songs, and ran through the rain. You tried to give me a super involved date. You gave me a damn movie instead.” 

Colby scoffed at the irony in that. He did exactly what he was trying not to do. Fairly typical. You swiped your thumb across his cheek, getting his attention again.

“You’re drifting, stay with me.” Colby laughed and rolled his eyes. You stilled your thumb, confused.

“You and Sam are literally on the same wavelength.” 

“Or we are the ones who know you best. I think I’ve got him beat on the loving you, though,” you paused. “Maybe.” 

You both chuckled again.

“But seriously, Colbs, if you’re here, I’m happy. You make anything fun. That’s why I’m in love with you. I know you think about everything and try your fucking hardest. You are the sweetest man I know. That’s why I picked you. Remember, I had a line of suitors waiting,” you winked, knowing Colby knew that all too well.

“God, don’t remind me.” He groaned. He leaned his cheek into your hand, allowing you to hold him. That’s how you knew he loved you. He let his guard down and let you love him. He doesn’t do that for many, and you knew that. You loved that he let you in. He lightly kissed the hand that was still caressing his cheek, smiling when you pulled him close again. You two stayed like that for a while, kissing softly while the rain pattered against your windows. It really was like a movie. The gray, swirling clouds and soft wisps of the wind lulled you both into a serene sense of young love. You belong here. This was you two. Shit was going to go wrong. And you were going to love each other through it. That’s what made you two special. You don’t want perfection. You want each other. 

“So,” Colby said softly as he pulled back. “How’s about we pick up some In-And-Out and binge watch Attack on Titan in the big theatre?” You smiled again, squeezing the back of his neck one more time.

“Fuck yeah.”

So, that’s what you all did. And it was the best night ever, just you two being goofy and in love. And okay, Colby may be coming around to Valentine’s Day. Or maybe it’s just you. He thinks it’s just you. Either way, he can’t wait to spend the rest of them just like this.

[pathological-peoplepleaser-alert]

Hospital Playlist : Season 1

So, I recently re-watched season 1 of Hospital Playlist in preparation of season 2 that’s going to be released on the 17th of June, and I have a couple of thoughts that I want to share. Warning: It’s going to be filled with spoilers, so for those looking to avoid that, please don’t read more. Also, this is a looooonnnnggg one :)

“Hospital Playlist” is a Korean Drama that follows five doctors in their 40s who have been best friends since adolescence as they form a band together. While the log-line appears simple, the depth in the script and acting will enchant any audience. The narrative is free-spirited and quirky, reverberating friendships forged by love and time in a heart-warming style.

This slice of life drama realistically tackles what occurs within the white walls of the hospital. From ungrateful patients to the long wait for donors, it has it all. This drama covered plenty of cases, each of them as sad as the next. I recall when Yang Seok Hyeong, an assistant professor of obstetrics and gynaecology, had a patient who delivered a baby with anencephaly. He was considerate enough to not allow the mother to hear the baby’s cries by playing loud music in the delivery room and quickly escorting the baby away from the mother. I teared up during that scene, and I still tear up just thinking about that. I watched it as a case in a K-Drama, but it is many people’s gruesome reality, and all I can offer are my sympathies.

Despite zoning out during the technical aspects and elucidation of medical terminologies, I could feel the gravity of an operation and the burden of Atlas resting on the doctors when they held the scalpel. I liked the fact that there wasn’t any hospital politics. Rather, the show focused on the doctors, as they tried their best to save their patients. I mourned during the losses of life and celebrated with the characters after a successful surgery.

The ensemble cast for “Hospital Playlist” was flawless. The sincerity of the actors and the efforts they had put into studying and understanding their roles were clear as day. The chemistry between them was organic and the banters, natural. While they didn’t verbalise every emotion, the viewers could feel their familiarity, like they were real-life friends on screen. I was on an emotional rollercoaster as I watched this, rooting for them through hardships and cheering whenever they laughed.

“I wondered why my life was getting so difficult. It was really tough. But all of a sudden, one day, I realised how much time I was wasting. Wasting my life away like this because of what she did to me was doing a disservice to myself.”

Jo Jung-Suk did a flawless job portraying Lee Ik-Jun. This was my second time witnessing a drama with Jo Jung Suk, and while I wouldn’t applaud his performance in “Oh, My Ghostess!” (But in his defence, I found that script to be problematic) I absolutely loved him in “Hospital Playlist”. Lee Ik-Jun is an assistant professor of general surgery. He’s funny, sociable, laid-back, charming, and a dotting, single father to his son, Woo Joo.

The first time I, as the viewer, was introduced to him was gold. Naughty little Woo Joo had managed to put a blotch of super glue to a Darth Vader helmet, which was later worn by his father. During an emergency at the hospital, Ik Jun showed up decked in Darth Vader gear and bravely holding a light saber, demanding that the helmet was unglued from his head. He got his wish, but only after performing surgery while wearing the helmet.

Watching Ik-Jun and his son together is heartwarming, to say the least. You can tell how much he loves his son, as seen by the way he prepared meatballs from scratch, including the ketchup, excitedly for his son, only for the latter to claim he wanted meatballs, causing the former to trip on his way to the kitchen. I also adore how most of the bonding scenes we see between them happens over sandwiches. I find that very precious.

Ik Jun is also very friendly to everyone. He warmly welcomes the medical students, greets his colleagues with a smile, and most notably, plays as a matchmaker between Jeong-won and Jang Gyeo-wool, even if it is so the latter could assist him on more surgeries. His relationship with his sister is also beautiful. I love how authentic they are, from their bickering and the hidden ways they care for each other.

Ik Jun provides comic relief plenty of times— I nearly fell off my chair laughing when he mimicked a train, and also upon seeing how adamant he was to eavesdrop on a private phone conversation of Kim Jun-wan.

“I don’t deserve to be a doctor. I can’t control my emotions. I empathise too easily.”

I must admit, Ahn Jeong Won has a soft spot in my heart and is my favourite from the group of friends. An assistant professor of pediatric surgery, Jeong Won gets overly attached to patients and takes every loss personally. Due to his sensitive nature, he’s detailed in everything he does, earning the teasing nickname of “Buddha” from his colleagues.

Hardworking but overemotional, there have been many instances when Jeong Won swears to quit being a doctor after a patient has unfortunately succumbed, and it’s only through the insistence of his oldest brother does he continue his job. He’s immensely religious and has a close relationship with God, and considered being a priest until the season finale.

His interactions with his young patients tug on all my heartstrings. From the gentle way he gets the permission of small children to check their vitals, to the dedication with which he treats his patients and dissolves their fears.

One of my favourite quotes of this drama was said by him, “Do you know why doctors only give vague answers such as ‘We can’t be sure yet,’ ‘We don’t know yet,’ and ‘We need to observe a bit more?’ Doctors must take responsibility for their words, so we must be careful. There’s only one thing we, as doctors, can tell our patients with certainty. ‘We will do our best.’”

Despite being born from a wealthy family, Jeong Won is nearly broke, spending all his fortune anonymously covering the hospital fees of poor patients.

Chae Song Hwa summarised Jeong Won’s personality neatly in episode 12 when she said, “Lastly, there’s you (Jeong Won). Seeing others enjoy good food makes you happier than when you are eating it yourself.”

“If the doctor gives up on the patient, he isn’t a doctor anymore.”

At first glance, Kim Jun Wan appears cold and scary, but there are so many dimensions to his character. He’s blunt, assertive and has a reputation for telling his patients what they need to hear, not that they want to hear.

However, he’s possibly the most caring person, having allowed Jeong Won to, in his own words, “mooch” of him for years now. He was also always nagging and hovering over his friends, keeping a stash of chocolates for them. He stepped up as the Chief of the cardiothoracic surgery department multiple times, whether it was to act as a shield to his mentee or to reprimand his juniors about the importance of (a patient’s) life and how every single decision taken by a doctor has to be thoughtful and absolute because there’s no way to reverse such things.

A great example of his outer versus inner personality is when he’s questioned by a medical student on why he chose to be a cardiothoracic surgeon. While he claimed that he became a surgeon after asking his professor which job would allow him to get the most money, with a glimpse of a flashback scene, it was revealed that when back as a student, Jun Wan was given the opportunity to witness a surgery and then, to touch a beating human heart, and felt life, that solidified his decision to choose cardiology as his field. Recalling that scene gives me goosebumps even now. That was magical.

Jun Wan is also a huge foodie, his only competition being Song-Hwa.

“What have you done for yourself lately?”

Chae Song Hwa is an associate professor of neurosurgery. Discerning without being too critical, she is intelligent and is often the mother hen of the group. Respected by her juniors, she has also been fondly dubbed the ‘ghost’ due to her busy schedule that has left several of her colleagues wondering whether she has time to eat or sleep. She was everywhere and knew everything, which allowed her to quietly look after the residents of the hospital and the patients.

Despite being buried under piles of work, she still made the time to grade her juniors papers, and I’m reminded of one of the first instances the viewers were given of her, which was when she comforted a patient in the elevators of a hospital. The only female professor in neurosurgery, she is kind to her patients.

I adore how decisive she is, being extremely clear about what she wants, drawing boundaries while still being friendly and radiating professionalism to those around her, despite the hardships she might be going through. She routinely goes camping during the weekend and is the embodiment of positive self-love.

Some of my favourite moments in this drama was literally just Song Hwa and Jun Wan aggressively eating like they’ve been hungry since the dawn of time. Song Hwa might have claimed that the reason she ate so rapidly, so full of zeal was because of growing up with older brothers, but Ik Jun was quick to shoot her down and note that they all looked boney.

“My time is too precious for that. I want to live doing the things I like. And the things I want to do right now.”

Probably the most under-appreciated character, Yang Seok Hyeong is a treasure. My first opinion of him was ‘mama’s boy’ and while I was correct, wow, I had not expected the reason why. In his youth, Seok Hyeong was not close to his mother at all, and we could even see him ignoring her phone calls. But after everything that happened with his dad, he grew closer to his mother, developed a new sense of protectiveness and appreciation for her, and I adore that.

He was also the reason the band reunited in the first place, making that his condition for working at the Yulje Medical Center. Despite seeming aloof, he was an open book to his friends. He didn’t like to bother or intrude on people and usually kept to himself, gaining a reputation for being a loner whenever he was not around his four friends.

Throughout the season, he was trapped in a whirlwind of turmoil, from the news of his unexpected brother to his father’s death and his surprise succession to the company he wants no ties with. He maintains a calm exterior and braces through the troubles.

Seok Hyeong lives up to the sensitivity his job demands from him, softly informing expecting mothers about the risks of their pregnancies while encouraging and empathising with them when things get hard.

He prefers to stay in the shadows and allow people the opportunity to sort their messes out themselves, after reminding them that he’s only a call away if they need him. He’s an excellent confident booster and appreciates those who are responsible.

These characters stayed not only in my mind but also in my heart. Each of them has such vivid personalities I can’t entirely capture in words. Their insecurities, struggles, and feelings were so real and incredibly relatable and easy to empathise with.

As conveyed by the title, music plays an important part in this T.V. serial, by allowing the characters to reminisce their college days and also allowing them a breather from their stressful life. There are thousands of words in the English language, and yet, I can’t string together enough of them to express how I felt when Jo Jung Seok sang Aloha.

The doctors use music not only as an outlet to release their frustrations, but also to express their thoughts and feelings. To heal. Listening to the songs and the covers made by the band lightened my heart. The labour they put into practising the songs made the moments more precious.

Through the music sessions in this T.V. serial, I found my affection for each character increasing. I found myself surprised to recognise some of the songs considering they are quite old, but I hummed along and felt the air around me thrum with glee as they sang.

I also found it rather ironic that Chae Song Hwa is considered to be a bad singer (her pre-routine of gulping down raw eggs fascinated me on an odd level) although the actress who plays her, Jeon Mi Do is a talented singer.

Therapeutic and well-written, I marvel at the writer’s ability to weave together arrays of mundane subplots into endearing bliss, leaving lingering positivity after every episode along with a yearning to watch more.

I’m a huge fan of writer Lee Woo-Jung’s Reply series and was hesitant to start this drama, afraid that it would fall short of expectations. But having watched it, I can safely say that those concerns were unnecessary, and whatever expectations I had were only exceeded. I couldn’t recognise any leading plotline of this drama. To me, it simply showcased the daily life of five doctors.

As it is character-driven, there is a slow progression of the drama, which needs some time getting adapted to. It was also a little hard trying to keep track of the multiple characters initially introduced, but within three episodes, I was able to get a hang of things. The dialogues were witty, impactful and sharp, capturing my attention from the beginning to the end. However, despite containing a plethora of humorous moments throughout this serial, there was a subdued layer that focused more on the community than the plot.

I must admit, however, that I found the first episode to be subtly chaotic and slow-paced. I couldn’t grasp the concepts or connect with the characters until the second episode, after which I had no qualms.

I loved the character arcs in this story. It was a pleasure to observe their journeys and diligence as various storylines diverged or amalgamated, how they grew as individuals while maintaining their core values. The flashback scenes were fascinating to watch and compare how they are now to how they used to be.

The cinematography was stunning. I was in awe at how different shades and tones of light could impact not only the setting of the scene but also the mood of the viewers.

I recommend “Hospital Playlist” to anyone who likes to watch T.V. serials possessing the perfect amount of drama, laughter, angst, warmth and love. This serial is a truly rare gem in a basket of rocks where the storylines are solid without being too predictable.

[mydisasteracademia]

Random Shigaraki Headcanons

This boi. This grubby boi. I love him so much but at the same time he would probably literally dust me so... (oof this one kinda dragged on and on... lol)

Literally has no idea about real-life relationship dynamics outside of what he’s observed in his own parents, in Sensei, and in Kurogiri. All he thinks in the beginning is that people who claim to love you will stand by and let you be hurt, that villains took care of him better than any damn hero, and that he can only truly rely on himself. (And Sensei.)

It takes a loooooooong time of interacting with other people to break himself out of this mindset, and even then, sometimes it comes creeping back if bad things happen.

Getting into canon territory with this one, but really, really, reeeeeeeeally hates heroes because they didn’t even bother to help him when he was going through a whole mental breakdown. Literally one of the only reasons he hates them so much. I know this is pretty much canon, but I doubt he would ever grasp Stain’s ideology of ‘maybe some are good’ because in his eyes, not even the underground pro heroes even bothered to see if he was okay. Remember the scene from the manga with the old lady when he was a child? Yeah. There were bound to be heroes he bumped into, even off-duty ones, and nobody even gave him another glance.

Has extremely bad abandonment issues. If he likes you, he’s gonna want to keep you because he didn’t really have anything nice to call his own while growing up, and Sensei kept him fairly isolated so he literally tolerates nobody else other than him and Kurogiri at first. Reacts horribly when his friends want to break off the friendship. Goes through a whole depressive episode for a while, his old insecurities pop back up, and he really thinks he’s worse than trash and not worth anyone’s time or attention for a while. Prime time for Sensei to further twist his mind.

On that same note, if you’re dating, for the love of everything still good in this world do not break his heart. He will never forgive you. Literally will go to the grave before he forgives you for doing what you did (whether it be cheating on him or completely dropping him like a hot potato). Although this might also extend to little issues that make him feel like you don’t love him enough, he’ll forgive you if you show him plenty of attention and apologize for whatever he was upset over. If you cannot remain patient through his toxic mindsets, it’s best not to get into a relationship in the first place with him if you want to still remain friends afterward, because breaking it off means instant heartbreak.

Anyway! Back to happier, funnier hcs!!

The whole embodiment of the “Wears black in summer because I look good and am willing to suffer” vine. Will not give up his comfy black shirt and sweats for anything because yes, he does look good in black, and yes, he is willing to suffer. He’ll switch to a v-neck tee though. Even he’s not that masochistic.

Really prone to dry skin. I know that’s canon, but just... this poor man can’t keep moisturized to save his own life. Constantly has to apply a special moisturizer that’s specifically made for ultra-sensitive skin and has no scents whatsoever.

Will gripe about having to spend so much money on ointment and moisturizer for both him and Dabi. It’s one of the very few things they bond over, other than having a shitty father and pushover family... and their hatred of All Might.

Shigaraki 100% would be Dabi’s alibi if he actually managed to kill Endeavor. When it comes to the shitty dad club, he’s a fuckin’ ride-or-die.

Kinda sensitive over the fact that both he and Midoriya have the same sort of red shoes, but he loves his pair too much to throw them out. Purposefully aims for Midoriya’s shoes every single time they meet each other on the off chance that they get ruined enough for him to get different shoes, unknowing that he literally can’t just... get differently-colored shoes due to him being originally Quirkless (yes, The Shoes™ theory strikes again)

Literally never forgets a single thing about people he cares about. He’s the type of person who will remember every single thing you tell him about yourself, and especially birthdays. While he doesn’t exactly show his affection very loudly, he would be the type of person who tell you “happy birthday” on the day of as soon as he first sees you, and would treat you a little nicer all day that day.

This boy just has the biggest, scarred heart for his ‘good crowd’. I cannot stress enough just how much like Midoriya he could’ve turned out if he hadn’t been abandoned by society. This mf would give the green bean a run for his motherfuckin money.

“I really just hate the world and everything in it... except for you, maybe I could make an exception for you because you’re nice to me and I appreciate your company too much”

Even though I hc quite a few League members to be like cats when it comes to affection, Shigaraki’s spirit animal is a cat. Likes to lounge about in off-moments, slow to affection and very quick to remember exactly how people treat him, yet if he likes you he shows affection quietly enough that it’s not obvious at first. Like “oh, you’re in the same room as me. It’s not like I missed you or anything, me sitting right next to you at the bar when it’s totally empty means nothing. The fact that I’m looking right at you when you’re talking doesn’t mean I like you.”

LOVES HUGS. If you hug him and he likes you, you’ve probably made his whole day. Depending on how things are going, probably his whole fucking week. Just please hug him, he needs positive affection so bad

Major tsun-tsun. The most tsun-tsun. Grumpy until you get to know him, and if he likes you he’ll show you in little ways: listening to your ideas more, letting you stay closer for longer, maybe getting you something like food.

AFRAID OF TOUCH. I REPEAT, AFRAID OF TOUCH. Not from anyone he likes, of course; this baby is so touch-starved that he deserves a thousand hugs. But if he likes you, he will not initiate physical affection because he’s so afraid of accidentally dusting you. The memories of his family dying (except for his father, because #FuckKotaro2k21) haunt him almost every time he dreams (and if that doesn’t, then other traumatizing events certainly do), and he absolutely would not forgive himself if he dusted his favorite League member/civilian.

Definitely likens the rest of the League to his MVPs after a while of knowing them. Knowing how he operates, it’s adorable.

Would begrudgingly let Toga play around with his hair. I can just see him sitting blank-faced, staring at the mirror as she talks about whatever while brushing and braiding it into a cute plait. He would be hesitant to undo her hard work afterward, no matter how much he grouches that it “ruins his boss vibe”.

The kind of person to go to McDonalds at 3 AM just because he was craving chicken nuggets and ranch. Yes, ranch. He’s an old-school mf who don’t got no time for no barbecue.

Gets really irritated over Toga mooning over Uraraka and Midoriya, but doesn’t stop her from talking about how much she wants to ‘be’ them. (Encourages homicide. Advises homicide. Spinner has to stop her from actually getting ready to commit homicide.)

Disgruntled™

G L O A T S about the time he took away Overhaul’s chance to use his Quirk. “Yeah, we would’ve been satisfied with Compress taking his left arm away to be petty, but then Overhaul had to be a sentient piece of dick cheese, and well, y’know I couldn’t let him get away with that”

It’s becoming a problem. The others have learnt to tune him out once he gets going. Compress just smiles under the mask when he remembers it. Nobody knows what he’s really thinking.

His damn crowning moment. His apex point. There’s no going further beyond that (until he finally defeats Midoriya and takes over Japan as the world’s most feared villain of all time).

“Shigaraki, I’mma let you finish, but AFO still holds the record for being the most infamous villain of all time! Of all time!” <-- let the boy dream okay, he’s been waiting for this moment his whole damn life

Can you tell that I’m still horribly salty over Overhaul being an ass? Because I’m still horribly salty over Overhaul being an ass

Chronic emo phase. Hears the G note and just sighs heavily

Has probably seen hentai. Doesn’t really get the appeal of high-pitched feminine screams. Probably more of a tiddy man than an ass man. Just... boobie

His first fictional crush was Aeris/Aerith. Legitimately lost his shit when she died.

Man Crush Monday is Sephiroth all the way. Especially his one-winged angel form. Wanted to cosplay him for Halloween but didn’t because the cosplay was too costly.

Will make “That’s what she said” jokes in the most deadpan voice. At least Mustard kinda snickers at them.

Probably would’ve been pretty patient with Eri. Her traumatic past certainly would’ve pitted her as a kindred spirit with him, and he would think her Quirk would be a powerful asset if used right. Probably would’ve practiced it by destroying something and then telling her to rewind it so that he can break it again.

Shigaraki, holding Eri by her armpits: “I’ve only had her for ten minutes but if anything happened to her I’d dust everyone in the room to make her feel better”

The rest of the League: “???????? Okay?????”

Legitimately holds a powerful grudge against parents who abuse or neglect their children, especially against abusive fathers. Almost as powerful as his hatred for All Might. Will actively go after someone he sees is abusive to their children and will not let them live.

Would probably adopt an orphan after killing their abusive parents. “Oh, that was your dad/mom/parent? Well guess you’re mine now. Let’s go get chicken nuggets, kid”

Might somehow rope Dabi into going abusive-parent-hunting with him during a raid. Takes great pleasure in seeing the guilty party’s horrified, pained look on their face as they slowly dissolve into a pile of ash.

[lonelyreputation]

C’est Toi (coffee shop au) • CHAPTER FOURTEEN, wc: 8.2k

previous chapter | let’s chat | C’est Toi Index

Wednesday  - February 20, 2019 - 21:18

Shawn’s here. Like he’s in my dorm which is something I honestly didn’t think would happen. Since the first time I ordered coffee, I just imagined myself fawning over him from afar and watching my back account dwindle with how much I was spending on coffee as an excuse to see him.

But now I’m saving money on coffee, he wants to see me just as much as I want to see him, and he’s in my room.

WARNING: ALLUSION TO SMUT.

__

“I’m just saying––”

“I don’t think you should say anything.”

With open books and loose leaf paper scattered on top of the table, Ella and I were in a stare off. Her eyes were narrowed in on me and I gripped the pen between my fingers. For the last half hour, studying had been long forgotten on Ella’s end. She kept pestering me on what happened with Shawn and I after the soccer game on Sunday.

And I repeated the same sentence I told her not even five minutes ago.

“Nothing happened,” I dropped my pen and buried my face into my hands with a sigh, “We came here, helped Niall fix something with the espresso machine, and then just spent time together.”

With both palms flat on the table, Ella leaned forward and whispered, “Bullshit.” I leaned back on my chair, raising my eyebrows as I crossed my arms over my chest. She continued on, “He was literally about to leave without saying bye to you.”

Ella’s eyes softened as I broke eye contact with her and turned toward the door.

I slumped down in the chair, “He admitted he was jealous,” Ella’s eyes perked up at the information, “And he…I asked if we were okay and he said he didn’t know what––” I uncrossed my arms and lifted my fingers to put air quotes around the next word, “––‘we’ I was talking about.”

Ella’s eyes widened, “What?!”

I nodded my head slowly, “Yeah, it wasn’t––I tried to leave, he told me to stay, said he was jealous, admitted to liking me a lot, and then we ended up here; at Brightside…” My voice trailed off at the end.

Ella scrunched her eyebrows together, “That doesn’t make any sense––He says he doesn’t know about the ‘we’, but then says he ‘likes’ you?” Her eyes shifted from mine and glared over my shoulder, presumably at the person of topic, “He’s an idiot.”

I picked up my coffee to take a sip, but frowned when I was met with cool air instead of hot espresso. I set it down on the table and shrugged, “I don’t blame him.”

“Don’t you dare take the blame for him,” Ella shook her head, “He obviously knows there’s something between you two, so for him to say that––” Her glare at Shawn intensified for a second before looking sincerely into my eyes, “Want me to beat him up?”

I tipped my head back in laughter, “I don’t think that would work out in your favor.”

“Most likely not,” Ella shrugged nonchalantly, “But he’s dumb.”

I rolled my eyes and picked up my pen, hoping to get back to studying, but Ella closed her books and pushed them aside.

“You need to define your relationship with him.”

The pen I just picked up dropped and fell to the floor, “Define the––I don’t think I can be the one to bring that up––I still––Do you remember what happened when I asked for his name?”

Ella rolled her eyes, “But you know him now,” she exaggerated her next words, “it’s different.”

“I don’t think I could do it.”

Again, Ella leaned forward, “You have to––”

“What’re we gossiping about?”

Not expecting to hear Niall’s Irish accent, I jumped in my seat, with my elbow knocking into my empty coffee cup. It bounced a little as it fell to the ground, Niall bent down to pick it up, and then stole a chair from the empty table next to us, and then sat down next to me.

He rested his chin in the palm of his hands as he looked between Ella and I, “Hm?”

I shook my head and glared at Ella, “We were just getting back to studying––”

“I was saying how she needs to define her relationship with Shawn.”

“Ella!”

My mouth dropped as I whisper yelled at her. She just shrugged her shoulders and Niall held his stomach as he laughed. Once he calmed down and wiped a tear away from the corner of his eye, he scrunched his eyebrows together and looked at me.

“You’re basically his girlfriend.”

I shook my head and let out a sigh, “We haven’t talked––”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Ella cut me off once more with an eye roll.

I slumped further down in my chair, “But we’re not––”

“As he was leaving yesterday, I asked him where he was going, and he said––I quote,” He gave me a pointed stare with raised eyebrows, “Off to see my girlfriend.”

I blushed and looked down at my notes. I fiddled with my hands as Ella let out a loud ‘Ha’ as her way of saying I-Told-You-So.

Without acknowledging either of them, I went to flip a page in my textbook, “That doesn’t mean––”

Niall leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, “Shawn calling you his girlfriend really pissed Lola off,” he smirked, Ella happily cackled, and my mouth dropped wide open, “She was in a mood for the rest of the shift.”

“We––”

“I’m telling you,” Ella reached across the table and closed my textbook, “You have nothing to worry about if you bring it up to him.”

I let out an annoyed breath and I ran a hand through my hair, “What is it with you two cutting me off today? You seem to be on the same wavelength.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Niall nudged my shoulder, “I know Shawn, and Ella knows you, so when you put us together…” he offered both Ella and I a blinding smile, “You get one wavelength about your relationship.”

I silently looked between them before letting out a dramatic sigh. With my eyes closed, I leaned my head back against the chair, “I wish it wasn’t this complicated.”

“It’s not.”

I peaked one eye open and glared at Niall for his response, “It’s not complicated to you,” I let out another sigh before running a hand through my hair, “But to me, it’s just…complicated.”

Ella took it as her turn to speak, “But why is it complicated?”

Yeah, I thought to myself, why is this complicated?

In theory, everything was fairly black and white; I liked Shawn and he liked me. We spent a considerable amount of time together, we both knew that the other wasn’t seeing anyone else, and I enjoy our silences just as much as the times he makes me laugh.

When he gently brushes the tips of his fingers against mine, before slowly slipping his hand into mine, it’s a feeling I never want to go away. The way he softly caresses my face, as he leans his forehead against mine, before he kisses me is another feeling I never want to go away. And the zip of electricity I feel down my spine when I hear him call out my name from behind the counter…His eyes soften, his shoulders relax, and he says my name with a little bit of relief.

It’s the same way I feel around him.

I never want that feeling to go away.

Nothing would make me happier than to call Shawn my boyfriend. But a real title meant a real relationship. And a real relationship came with commitment. And with commitment comes an extended amount of time you spend with a partner for the unforeseeable future.

Which is what made this whole situation so complicated in my eyes.

“My Visa,” I let my shoulders drop as I regretfully looked between the two people I’ve only known for about two months, but was already finding it difficult to picture my life without them, “I leave in June.”

The cheeky mood that hung around the air of discussing the possibility of a potential boyfriend quickly dissipated. It was as if they too also forgot I was only here for a few months, and not indefinitely.

Niall sucked in a harsh breath and Ella casted a look downard as she bit the inside of her cheek.

Niall drummed his fingers on the table, “He’s smitten,” Ella nodded her head in agreement, but knowing Shawn’s feelings toward me didn’t relieve the heaviness in the middle of my chest, “He…Just don’t think about that now.”

I whipped my head around to look at Niall with wide eyes, “Don’t think about it now?! How do I––That’s all I can think about.”

“Just be present in the moment,” Niall slowly nodded his head in reassurance that this was the best route to go, but his blue eyes were a bit more dull, as if he didn’t agree with his own advice, “Enjoy your time here.”

I shook my head, “I have a literal expiration date––”

“Maybe he’s right,” Ella’s voice was small, and I turned my head to look at her with the same wild look I had given Niall, “Just go for it. Don’t think.”

After a few beats of silence I let out a single laugh of disbelief, “You’re agreeing with him?” Ella’s only response was a small shrug of her shoulders. “Him––Niall? You’re agreeing that I pretend like I’m not setting myself up for failure?”

They both stayed silent. Because while they both wanted to see their respective friends happy…They couldn’t deny that this outcome would be earth shattering devastating for both Shawn and I if things were to progress further.

I shook my head, “I don’t think I can––”

“Don’t think you can what?”

Hearing another voice I wasn’t expecting––except this voice was Canadian––I felt myself jump more in my chair, a feeling of panic flooding every inch of my body.

How long had he been behind us?

But when I slowly turned around, the tension I felt in my joints melted away when I saw Shawn’s disheveled hair and a yellow cup with steam coming out from the top in his hands.

I offered him a lie that was as easy as the smile on my face, “Write this paper.”

Shawn rolled his eyes and, like Niall had done earlier, he stole a chair from the empty table and brought it around next to me. But unlike Niall, Shawn had set the chair down almost right up against my chair so we could sit as close as we could together.

“I saw your empty cup fall to the floor,” Shawn pushed the yellow cup of coffee in front of me, “So I brought you a new one.”

Even if I tried, I couldn’t hide the smile that overtook my face.

“Thanks,” I whispered as I wrapped my hands around the cup, and looked into it. I stifled out a laugh and looked up at Shawn, “That’s a nice flower.”

Shawn smiled triumphantly and nodded his head, “I’ve been practicing––”

Ella leaned over the table to look at the latte art herself. Her eyebrows were scrunched together as she picked her head up from the latte to look at Shawn, looked down into the cup again, and then back up at Shawn, “It looks like a cobweb.”

Niall barked out a loud laugh as Shawn’s cheeks turned red.

I glared at her, “Of course you wouldn’t know what a flower looks like––”

Ella’s eyebrows shot up as her soft accent rose in pitch, “I wouldn’t!” She pointed an accusatory finger at Shawn, “Because he only makes latte art for you.”

I was in the middle of taking a sip of the latte Shawn made for me when Ella hastily spoke. I set the yellow cup down on the table and shut my eyes as I coughed into my elbow. Once I felt like hot espresso wasn’t going to come up my throat, I wiped the wetness from the corner of my eyes and looked at Shawn.

He immediately looked away from me with cheeks even more red than before.

I glared at Ella. But she just raised her eyebrows in an I-Told-You-So manner as she leaned back in her chair. She was about to say something, but then the bell above the door rang, and all of our heads whipped around to see who had walked in.

It was a small group of university students with slightly hunched over backs from carrying their books and a look of strong desire for anything caffeine in their eyes. I didn’t miss the small sigh that passed through Shawn’s lips.

And it seemed as if Niall didn’t miss it either because he stood up and greeted the students with a––I’ll be with you guys in a sec––as he returned the chair to its rightful table. He clapped Shawn on his shoulder and said, “Take a little break.”

Shawn didn’t have to be told twice before he let his whole body slump forward on the table; head buried in his elbows. Instinctively, I brought my hand up and grazed the tips of my fingernails up and down his back. I felt him release a deep breath.

“Long day?”

Keeping his face hidden away, he nodded his head.

I looked down at him, and even though he couldn’t see me, I offered him a sympathetic smile. With his head tucked away, I didn’t know if he felt like talking, so I just kept lazily running my fingers up and down his back. I was about to pull a textbook toward me to read, but then I caught Ella’s stare.

She wasn’t either looking directly at me or at Shawn; she was more so looking at my hand comforting Shawn. The movement came naturally to me––I just wanted to make him feel better––it would make me feel better to see him at least a little bit relaxed. But the look in Ella’s eyes wasn’t her usual lovey-dovey know it all look she usually gave Shawn and I.

She looked somber.

Ella was the first person who I told every little detail about Shawn to. She was the first to know about my little crush on him, she was the first to know when I found out his name, the first person I told every little interaction––no matter how big or small––I had with Shawn, and she was the person I celebrated with when Shawn asked me out on our first date.

And there was no belittling Ella’s attempts at playing matchmaker either.

Ella had seen the very first encounter I had with Shawn, and she would most definitely be here to see my last encounter with him. I could see her brain churning out thoughts, debating with herself if she still thought it was a good idea to pretend like I didn’t have to legally leave the country in four months.

I continued to softly run my hand up and down Shawn’s back, but my movements had definitely slowed down a bit. I continued to look at Ella, who hadn’t caught onto my staring, as I saw her frown morph into a small bittersweet smile.

And for the first time since coming into Brightside today, Ella willingly opened up a textbook and started taking notes.

It was nearing closing time, the gray misty sky was now pitch black with street lights dotting the sidewalk, as Shawn and I were the only ones in Brightside.

Ella had silently left hours ago, claiming she had to practice a monologue in front of her mirror. And just like every time Niall’s shift was over, he clocked out right on the dot and ran out the door. Shawn ended up sitting at the table with Ella and I for close to forty minutes with his head tucked away. From the way his breathing evened out, I knew he had used the time to take a little nap.

It was only Wednesday, but I was sure Shawn had already worked a full work week already.

On Sunday, he worked the opening shift, came in to help Niall with the espresso machine after soccer, and worked up until an hour before close. Monday, he worked from opening to close. Tuesday––Yesterday––He worked the opening shift once again, and when we were at his flat watching a movie, he had to work until close because someone had called out sick.

And Wednesday––Today––Shawn had worked another opening to closing shift. And he was due to open the store again tomorrow.

Needless to say Shawn was exhausted and it was clearly catching up to him with the few times he messed up behind the counter.

Brightside hadn’t seen a customer in well over an hour, and Shawn did everything he could to complete his closing procedures early so he could leave right when the clock hit eight. I abandoned my school work a few hours ago in order to help Shawn with his closing procedures, in hopes it would help him clock out right when the store closed.

I climbed up and down the stairs multiple times to bring up stacks of cups wrapped in plastic, various sizes of black lids, napkins, and anything else Shawn rattled off to me. I helped with the easy tasks, but if there was something more specific, I would stand behind the counter for Shawn as he fetched whatever he needed.

There were only a few times when customers would waltz in, and were put off by my American accent, when I told them that the actual employee would help them shortly.

But that was nearly an hour ago, and now I was finishing off washing the last table on the main floor. There was only twenty minutes left until Brightside officially closed. And Shawn took it in his liberty to make it look like the store was already closed from an outsider's perspective.

“Is it really necessary to have all the lights off except the one above you?”

Shawn held a finger up to me, silently letting me know he’d answer my question the moment he was done counting out his drawer. I playfully rolled my eyes as I walked behind the counter to put the sanitation spray bottle in its spot under the sink. As Shawn was still busy double checking his count, I lifted myself up to sit on the counter.

And right as I fully sat down, with his back to me, Shawn said, “That’s unsanitary.”

I let out a soft laugh, “I’ll wash it again.”

The register made a noise as it printed out a slip of paper and Shawn ripped it off, scanning it over once, before turning his head around to face me with a soft smile, “You better.”

He collected the stack of money, deposited the coins in a yellow cup, and walked to where I was sitting on the counter. When he was right in front of me, he rested a hand on my knee and opened up my legs with enough room for him to stand between them.

“To answer your question,” his voice was mesmerizing, but I could only focus on his hand that was still on me, now tracing circles along my kneecap, “If the store looks empty and dark then people won’t bother coming in. And we,” he squeezed my knee which caused a smile to light up my face, “can leave early.”

I tilted my head, “Aren’t you afraid of getting in trouble?”

Shawn let out a tsk, “Not when I’m the manager.”

“Touché.”

He let out a small laugh and looked down at his hand on my knee. A soft closed lipped smile toyed at the corners of his mouth, but when he looked back up at me, I could see just how exhausted he really was. He kept having to repeatedly blink his eyes to keep them from drooping, his skin looked a little pale, the bags under his eyes were a tad more prominent, and his hair was falling a little flat.

I offered him a small smile in return and brought my hand up to run through his hair. His eyes closed and a content sigh softly passed through his lips.

“I just have to do my drop and then we can leave.”

With one last scratch to his scalp, I let my hand fall and his eyes opened, “Sounds good to me.”

He smiled again, “Be right back.”

In one swift motion, he kissed my cheek and retreated from my legs. I watched him as he took long strides toward the steps and walked down. With a smile still on my face, I hopped down from the counter, and kept to my promise of grabbing the sanitizing spray to wipe off where I had just sat.

Right when I threw the damp napkin into the empty trash bin, I heard Shawn’s footsteps, and soon I saw his mop of curls as he continued to climb the stairs. Once he was fully on the main floor, I could tell that he looked more relaxed bundled up in his soft pink hoodie and jacket, backpack over his shoulders.

“Ready?”

I nodded my head with a smile and went over to the table where I had set up shop since arriving a little before the lunch hour. Once my jacket was on and zipped up, I slung my tote bag over my shoulder and smiled at him, “Ready.”

At my response, Shawn took a few long strides over to me, grabbed my hand, and we left out the front door. We both shivered when a particularly cold gust of wind hit us, and I felt even colder when Shawn dropped my hand in order to lock the door.

Once he double checked the door was locked from the outside, he stuffed the key back in his backpack and picked up my hand, already leading us in the direction of the Temple Underground.

After a few steps of silence, Shawn spoke up, “You didn’t have to stay.”

“I wanted to,” I squeezed his hand, “I got to spend more time with you. That’s always a bonus.”

I could see Shawn’s breathy chuckle through the cold London night air. He turned his head to look down at me, “I really appreciate you.”

Breaking eye contact with him, I looked down at our feet that were in perfect sync with each other. I bit the inside of my cheek to suppress my smile, but I could feel my face redden with blush. Shawn bumped his shoulder against mine which caused me to look up at him.

“Aw c’mon, don’t hide your smile.”

And this time I didn’t.

I let the butterflies in my stomach consume me as I felt them travel everywhere from the tips of my toes to the ends of my hair. I let the smile overtake my face, showing all of my teeth, with my eyes crinkling at the corners. There was an overwhelming burst of zeal in the center of my chest that I felt course through my veins as I saw him smile down at me the same way I was smiling at him.

For once, my face hurt from my smile reaching its full potential, not from the cold London wind. And when I looked deeper into Shawn’s eyes––even though they were only lit by the dim street lamps––they shined with the same elation I knew was present in my eyes. The moment I knew Shawn felt the same burst of energy in his chest was when I screwed my eyes shut, to exaggerate my smile for him, and his laughter boomed through the empty streets of London.

The feeling was happiness.

I matched his laughter, albeit a little softer, and squeezed his hand, “You’re too nice to me.”

Again, Shawn bumped his shoulder against mine, “If it makes you smile it’s worth it.”

As much as I wanted to shield my smile away from him again, I didn’t.

The rest of our walk to the Underground station was spent in silence. The only noise on our walk came from me, when Shawn dropped my hand and threw his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close into his side. The sound was a content sigh escaping my lips when he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

When the Underground station came into view, I momentarily shut my eyes and nuzzled my head further into his warm sweatshirt. I felt Shawn’s chest slightly rumble with a chuckle as he hugged me closer. And when we came up to the entrance, neither Shawn nor I pulled away from each other.

I shifted my body from being tucked away in his side to his front and circled my arms around his waist in a hug. Shawn let out a deep exhale as he hugged me back and traced small incoherent patterns across my back.

“I don’t wanna get up in the morning,” he groaned. I nodded against his chest and he continued grumbling, “I feel dead.”

“You look dead too.”

Shawn lifted his head up and poked my side, “Where’s the reciprocation for my niceness towards you?”

I let out a small laugh, “Just being honest.”

He pinched my waist and I wiggled out of his hold with a laugh. I opened my mouth to offer a rebuttal on how him pinching me wasn’t very nice, but then an idea struck my mind. While his flat was only about a twenty minute ride on the tube…I could get to my dormitory in fifteen minutes or less. It was only a five minute difference…The possibility of asking Shawn if he wanted to stay the night in my room made sense if it gave him some extra time to sleep in. But I didn’t know if it would make Shawn uncomfortable, or if it was too soon in whatever our relationship was.

“Are you planning on stopping by tomorrow––”

“I have a question.”

I felt my eyes double in size as the words slipped out of my mouth before my mind could comprehend what conversation I was initiating. Instead of being put off by my bluntness, Shawn’s eyes shined with curiosity as he nodded his head at me to continue.

I let out a deep breath as I felt a ball of tension form in the middle of my chest, “I know…Traveling back to your place takes a bit of time––And if you wanted––Not that you have to or anything––But I know my place is close, and you’ve had a long week,” Shawn’s eyes twinkled with amusement at my rambling and I took a deep breath, closing my eye for a second, before getting the question out, “You could stay the night at mine, if you want?”

My voice cracked with uncertainty at the end.

Silence.

With one eye squinted, I slightly leaned back from Shawn and inhaled a sharp breath. But before I could backtrack my offer in a ramble, Shawn eagerly nodded his head.

“Yeah, I could––That sounds––Yeah,” he easily smiled at me, “That sounds nice.”

“Great.”

We stood there for a moment in silence before Shawn tugged my hand, “Lead the way, I’m sleepy.”

I nodded with a bright smile and led the way into the Underground station and to my designated platform. We waited for the train in silence, and I could feel Shawn leaning more into my body as he tried to fight off his sleep. Luckily we didn’t have to wait too long until the train approached and we hastily stepped inside.

Much like our night before, the whole tube ride back to Waterloo was spent in silence, with only Shawn’s soft breathing reminding he was next to me as his head was tucked away on my shoulder.

When we got to our desired destination, Shawn was still a bit delusional from having fallen asleep for a little, but when he noticed we were almost at my place, he walked with a little more purpose. I tapped my Oyster card as Shawn tapped his phone to exit the Underground station at different turnstyles, but when we were both out, our hands reconnected like a magnet.

I scanned into the residence hall and led Shawn to the elevator. He seemed to be taking in his surroundings, but with how fast he was blinking, I was sure he was just trying to keep himself awake. Thankfully, the lift dinged right when I pressed the up button and we quickly stepped inside as I pressed my floor number.

The ride up seemed to take no time at all, and before I knew it, I was fumbling with my keys to unlock my door with Shawn standing close behind me. Once I heard the desired click and was able to push the handle down, I stepped inside and flicked the lights on.

Shawn followed my steps and he took his time examining my room more than he did with the lobby. With a small smile on his face, he slipped his hands into the front pockets of his sweatshirt, “So this is where you spend your time when you’re not at Brightside.”

I scoffed, “I don’t spend all of my time there.”

He raised his eyebrows and teased me even more, “Are you sure? You were there for most of the day today.”

I turned my back to him as I placed my bag down on the desk chair, “What were you saying about always wanting to be nice to me?”

Shawn let out a chuckle as he turned around to close the door and locked it. He shrugged his shoulders, “This is just teasing. I’m still being nice.”

“Mhm,” I hummed with a slow smile creeping up on my face as Shawn walked toward me and picked up my hands.

We were standing incredibly close, the tips of our shoes touching, as he played with my fingers and looked at a few scattered pictures along the wall next to my bed, “It’s a cute room.”

I rolled my eyes, “Thanks.” I tried to ignore the nervousness I felt in my stomach, “There’s uh, you can shower if you want.”

Shawn smiled in appreciation, “That sounds nice.”

I nodded my head and looked anywhere in the room that wasn’t his eyes. While his eyes were arguably my favorite thing about him, I felt incredibly apprehensive under his gaze now. While we’ve been alone together at his place, something about Shawn being in my room and staying the night seemed a bit more intimate.

I cleared my throat, “I think I have clothes that’ll fit you? I can check––”

His hands squeezed around mine for a second, which caused me to look up at him. His eyebrows were pulled together and I noticed his jaw was more tense than before, “You have boy's clothes in your drawers?”

I nonchalantly shrugged my shoulders, “Yeah, I stole some from my brother before I left. Figured it would help with homesickness,” I tilted my head as I looked up at him, “You guys look to be the same size.”

Something in Shawn’s eyes visibly relaxed as he let out a deep breath, “Oh that’s––I forgot you had a brother. That makes sense.”

Thoughts of Shawn’s lingering jealousy over Jack swirled around my mind at how tense he was acting. So like he did with mine moments ago, I squeezed his hands in reassurance, “You have nothing to worry about.”

I leaned up on my tip toes and kissed his cheek.

A faint tinge of red spread across his cheeks and I smiled at his bashful reaction.

“There are towels in the bathroom you can use,” I dropped his hands and pushed him toward the small bathroom that was luckily inside my single room, “The sooner you shower, the sooner we can sleep. You also smell.”

Shawn stumbled backwards, “Hey!” As he turned his head around his shoulder to playfully glare at me, “That’s not very nice.”

I rolled my eyes, “Shower.”

He was still somewhat laughing as he retreated into the bathroom. And soon enough, the door was shut and I heard the water running. With a sigh I walked to sit on my bed and pulled out my journal from the drawer in my nightstand. I tried my best to write in it daily, and right now was the only free time I had between classes and spending all day at Brightside with Shawn.

So before I would be interrupted by Shawn finishing his shower, I picked up a black pen and flipped to a fresh page. Like always, I checked the date on my phone and wrote it on the line––Wednesday, February 20, 2019––and checked the time to write that too; 21:18.

When I had all the details I needed, I started to hastily write in cursive so I could get a quick entry in.

Shawn’s here. Like he’s in my dorm which is something I honestly didn’t think would happen. Since the first time I ordered coffee, I just imagined myself fawning over him from afar and watching my back account dwindle with how much I was spending on coffee as an excuse to see him.

But now I’m saving money on coffee, he wants to see me just as much as I want to see him, and he’s in my room.

I still can’t believe he’s here. I still can’t believe I asked him to come over. Still patting myself on the back for that…Even if I did ramble on like a little bit of a mad person. But thankfully Shawn seemed to be more enamored by it than put off.

There’s just something about his presence that makes me feel calm. Something I haven’t felt with any past boyfriends––Or really anyone in general. I could be having the most stressful day, but if I were to see him, I could think about how in that moment my life felt just a little better. I didn’t have to be with him at all times during the day either to feel like that. I could see his smile flash through my mind if I was having a particularly hard day and feel content.

But all of these feelings make me more nervous about when I have to leave––

“McLane?”

I slammed my journal shut and threw it aside as I heard Shawn’s voice bring me out of my own head. I quickly lifted my head to see what he needed, but when I was met with a dripping wet Shawn in a towel, absolutely everything in my mind disappeared.

He had the towel wrapped around his hips, and I tried not to make it obvious that I was staring at him, but from the way I felt my voice get caught in my throat, I knew I failed. Just standing in a towel, I could see his slightly defined muscles and tattoos that had been partially covered by his shirt. His chest still had some water droplets that the lights were reflecting off of, and his curls were matted down on his forehead.

I gulped.

“I––Um––Yeah?”

Shawn smirked at the crack in my voice.

“Do you have your brother’s clothes by chance?”

My eyes widened in realization that I never handed them over to him and I scurried off my bed. I knew my whole face was flaming red, especially when one of my legs got caught up in a bed sheet and I almost face planted on the ground. But I quickly recovered and avoided all eye contact with Shawn.

I opened and rummaged through three drawers before I found where I had my brother’s sweatpants and sweatshirt. Pulling them out, I walked over to Shawn with my head down and held them out for him to take.

When I felt him brush his hands against mine as he took the clothes, I looked up at him to see that he still had the same prideful smirk on his face.

Taking advantage that I was actually looking at him, Shawn dipped his head down and pressed a quick kiss to my lips that left my forehead wet from his curls.

He pulled away slightly and whispered, “Be right back,” against my lips. And just as fast as the kiss was, Shawn spun around and went to change in the bathroom.

I took a deep breath before going back over to my drawers and picking out a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt to sleep in. Soon enough Shawn was out of the bathroom, wearing my brother’s clothes, and before he could get a quip out, I scooted past him and made my way into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

And to get my flustered thoughts together.

While I changed and brushed my teeth, I tried to calm myself down. There was no reason why I should be this nervous about sleeping in the same bed as Shawn. We’d spent enough time alone together that I was comfortable with him. And it wasn’t like this was my first time sleeping in a bed with someone I had feelings for.

But the nagging voice in the back of my head told me this was different.

My feelings for Shawn were different.

With a deep breath and a semi-clear head, I twisted the bathroom door knob and stepped into my room. I saw Shawn sitting on my bed, back pressed against the wall my bed was up against as he looked intently at the pictures tacked up.

When he heard me walk over, he turned his head with a smile, “You look nothing like your brother.”

I let out a quiet laugh and sat next to him on the bed. He was looking at a picture of William and I sitting on a boat that was taken last summer. William had an arm thrown around me while my head was leaning on his shoulder, as the wind blew my brunette hair in front of my face, and William had a hand on top of his blonde hair to keep it from blowing around.  

“Throws everyone off when they find out we’re twins.”

Shawn let out a small laugh as his fingers traced over a different picture, “Who’re they?”

I smiled at the memory as I leaned my head on Shawn’s shoulder, “My highschool friends. That was our prom.”

Shawn hummed in acknowledgement and rested a hand on my thigh, “You look pretty in your dress.”

“Thanks,” I whispered.

His fingers started to lazily trace circles on my thigh, “Do you still talk to them?”

I nodded against his shoulder with a faint smile, “We FaceTimed last week. It gets a bit hard with the time difference, but they’ve been my friends for like…ever,” I looked up at him through my lashes to see a slight frown on his face, “So it’s worth it.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Yeah,” his fingers stopped their movements on my skin, “But we all go to different universities, so being away from them is nothing new.”

Shawn nodded his head slowly, a slight frown still present on his face. His fingers slowly went back to tracing shapes on my leg, but I could sense that his mind was somewhere else. He kept a low-spirited gaze trained on my senior year prom picture, as we sat in silence and I wondered about what was troubling his mind.

My wall was only of pictures from home, only happy memories that I knew would keep me company abroad. So while I stared at them with a fond smile, Shawn stared at them with the opposite facial expression, and then something in my head clicked as to why he seemed upset.

It was my life before him.

And it would be the life I returned to after I leave London; after I leave him.

I soon felt my smile tugging down into a small frown that matched Shawn’s.

Ella and Niall’s words of ill fate wisdom popped up in my head––Just go for it…Don’t think about it…Be present in the moment––And I half-listened to them. Be present in the moment. That’s all Shawn and I could do.

“We’ll take lots of pictures and I’ll hang them up here,” I whispered into the crook of his neck, hoping he would take it as a promise that I wasn’t planning on leaving him any time soon.

I felt his hand inch ever so slightly up my thigh, as he tore his solemn gaze away from the pictures and looked down at me in an adoring way, “I like the sound of that.”

His eyes flickered down to my lips, as if he could also feel the strong pull between us. He darted his tongue out to wet his lips as I picked my head up from his shoulder. He took his hand that wasn’t on my thigh, and slowly lifted it up to reach under my hair and cup the back of my neck. With his forehead resting against mine, we stared at each other for a few seconds before I couldn’t wait any longer.

I leaned forward and caught his lips in a kiss.

Without hesitation, Shawn kissed me back slowly. The kisses were innocent as I let my hands wander to his chest and clutch the fabric of the sweatshirt he was wearing between my fists. With my hands pulling him closer, Shawn’s hand that was on my thigh continued to creep up until he slid it under my t-shirt, and ran his hand down my bare back.

He glided his palm and tips of his fingers down the expanse of my back. I shivered as he delicately touched every ridge of my spine, every bone, and every curve. He pressed his palm flat on my back, pushing me toward him as the tip of his tongue peeked out in a quick stripe across my lower lip.

An involuntary whimper left my lips as Shawn continued to press his lips against mine.

“Lay down,” he managed to rush out in between his kisses.

I was barely able to nod my head in agreement before Shawn pressed his lips back against mine and started to slowly lower me down. When the back of my head landed on the pillows, Shawn slid his hand from my back to rest on my hip. As he laid me down, he didn’t once break the kiss, and I craned my neck up to meet his lips that were hot with anticipation and need.

There was a brief moment of hesitation where we shifted our legs to intertwine and he slid his knee between my legs.

I unclenched my hands from the sweatshirt and slowly ran them up his chest, over his neck, and tangled my fingers in his hair.

While just moments ago Shawn dismally looked at my past through photographs, he touched me as if he didn’t give a damn about anything except a future together. It terrified me a bit how strong my feelings were for Shawn; I didn’t even know he existed at the beginning of the year, but now, I didn’t want to go any longer without his presence in my life.

Just be present in the moment.

It was a piece of advice that was easier said than done. Easy for two people looking in on their friends and wanting them to achieve happiness. Easy when a person wanted to forget about reality and fall into the fantasy of having their ideal life. Easy for people who lived in the same country.

And I knew Shawn was having these exact thoughts; every kiss was deepened with a fiery passion and the trail of his fingertips on my body would leave a lasting burn.

It was a silent agreement that we both wanted nothing more than to be present in our moments together.

Overcome with emotion, I had to break away.

As I tilted my head out of the kiss, Shawn didn’t lift his head up as he nuzzled his head into my neck and deposited a few kisses. He nipped at the skin as I sucked in a deep breath when he hit a particularly sweet spot right above my collarbone.

Slowly, he kissed his way up my throat until he got to the corner of my mouth, and placed another sweet kiss. He gasped for air as he leaned his forehead against mine, with his eyes still closed. I still had one hand in his hair and my other hand cupped his jaw as my thumb moved in soft circles on his cheek.

Eyes still shut tight, he gulped as if he was revealing his biggest fear.

“I really like you, McLane.”

His voice was convincing, but the smallest waver behind his tone wasn’t lost on me.

I ran a hand through the front of his damp curls, and when he finally met my stare, I offered him the softest of smiles. I leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips,  “I really like you too.”

Shawn let out the faintest of laughs, returning my smile, as he brushed a piece of hair out of my face and tucked it behind ear. He leaned down and mumbled, “Good,” against my lips as we both smiled into our next kiss.

Both of our hands wandered a bit more freely and with a bit more certainty. Like how my hands were first clutched around the sweatshirt Shawn was wearing, they found their place there again, except this time they were clutching at the hem of the material. I wasn’t sure what Shawn was thinking, and my hands were definitely more timid than they were before, but after a few moments of indecisiveness, Shawn broke our kiss and reached behind him to pull the sweatshirt off over his head.

Unlike when I saw him shirtless in a towel, I didn’t have much time to stare at Shawn’s chest above mine before he dipped his head back to reattach his lips to mine. Carefully, I let one of my hands trail down his chest. My fingertips ghosted over his skin when I felt his stomach muscles contract. I went to remove my hand, but Shawn shook his head against mine.

“Hands are cold,” he murmured between kisses, one of his hands fiddling with the hem of my shirt, gradually pushing it up against my stomach, as his warm hand laid flat on my stomach, “‘S fine.”

I let out a giggle and nodded my head against his.

“Are you okay with this?” He momentarily broke our kiss to lean his forehead against mine, eyes fully opened and staring deep into mine.

With a hand gripping onto his shoulder, I caught my breath before answering with a swift, “Yeah.”

The corners of Shawn’s eyes crinkled with a smile as we were both on the same page with each other. We moved in sync as I slightly leaned up with Shawn so he could remove my shirt, leaving my upper half bare.

We fell back onto the mattress togher, chests pressed flat, latched in an openmouthed kiss. Before coming over to my dorm, Shawn was half asleep on the tube, but now it seemed as if he was wide awake and didn’t have to be back at work in less than ten hours. I felt jitters in my nerves and blood running hot through my veins.

Shawn gently ran his hands over every bit of my skin he could reach; his fingers skimmed my neck, over my collarbone, caressed down my sides, until his hand rested on the waistband of my shorts. His fingers stayed immobile for a few moments before he shallowly dipped his thumb just under the elastic.

He slowed down the pace of our kiss until they were just pecks as I held my breath.

“Are you still okay with this?”

When I opened my eyes, he was already intently staring down at me with attentive eyes silently saying he would stop if I wanted. But I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted to live in our moment.

I swallowed, “Yeah––I––Still good. Really good.”

Shawn chuckled at my short phrases and pressed a searing kiss to my lips, the same time his hand dipped into my shorts. I thought I knew what it was like to have my breath stolen away from me, but the moment Shawn’s fingers slipped past my underwear, I felt a sudden shiver of euphoria as my eyes closed in bliss.

After we reached a new threshold in our relationship dynamic, I was curled up into Shawn’s side in a half-awake stage as his even breathing indicated he was asleep. As I laid my head on his chest. with his arm curled around me, I could finally pinpoint why I felt apprehensive the whole night from when I asked him to stay over up until now. Because even though I’d only spent a mere two months in London, a majority of that time with Shawn, I finally felt like I truly belonged somewhere.

And I didn’t want to mess it up.

A/N: Hiiii!! It’s been a bit longer than expected…But here’s the chapter! Whoop!! Getting some progress between the two! They had their first sleepover 😌 And she stayed to help him close!! How cute 🥺

I’d love to know your every single one of your thoughts!! They make me happy happy and give me lots of motivation!! I already have the ~next chapter done and let’s just say…There’s some jealousy on both sides 

Thank you so so much for reading & staying with C’est Toi!! I am forever in debt to every single one of you who has let me share this story with you!! Love you all lots!!! 

taglist (add / remove yourself): @mendesficsxbombay, @5-seconds-of-mendes, @pupsandpucks, @musicalkeys, @madatmendes, @im-salt-but-not-salty, @shawnmendez, @determined-overthinker @lenamds, @samaratheweirdo @shawnsreputation, @ineedmorestyles, @kerwritesthings

[watchtower-feed]

Living with Tim Drake

Notes: I got request for Damian and SO moving in together (which I will get to some day). But then I kept thinking about Tim and how I haven’t shown him much love lately. So I wanted to do a little character study of him. Words: 1,818

     You didn’t expect a message so quickly. After all, you just posted the ad for a roommate an hour ago. You texted back saying you’re free to talk and your phone buzzes in your hand. You quickly answer, bracing yourself for what kind of freak is in need of a place to stay so urgently.

     “Hello. This is Tim. I’m a college graduate and currently doing an internship at Wayne. Your place is really close by so it’s perfect for my commute.”

     Wayne is a little more than 5 kilometers away from your place. Definitely a length you wouldn’t like to walk on a daily basis. Especially since your neighborhood isn’t the best. But hey, it still beats Crime Alley and Arkham, right?

     “Hi, Tim. This is Y/N. But you obviously already know that. So I’m going to do a quick background check before I send you my address. I mean, you understand, right?”

     “Oh, definitely,” he answers right away but you could almost hear his nerves. He goes quiet for a bit and then you hear a notification that someone just sent you a message. “I don’t really have any social media accounts or anything--” You’re suspicious already. “But I am in the Gotham Gazette a lot.”

     “What?” you instinctively say. Not thinking. Ignoring the image of the screenshot he sent you. “What did you say your last name was?” You’re already flipping open your laptop and opening the Gazette website.

     “Drake. Wayne. I’m Timothy Drake-Wayne.”

     When he shows up at your door with a single duffle bag that wouldn’t even fit all of your pants, you greet him with a raised brow. “You know, I really thought this was going to be some sort of practical joke but you are him.”

     He laughs nervously, “Yeah… Living with that nightmare every day.”

     You stare him from inside your apartment before you laugh and let him in. You lounge over the kitchen counter and offer him some coffee. His eyes instantly brighten up at the caffeine rush.

     “This is really good.”

     “Yeah? I work at a cafe nearby and it turns out I like making coffee.”

     He looks at your set up behind him, a small commercial espresso machine with an extract bar with two spouts and a steam nozzle to warm up the milk, and a coffee grinder filled to the brim with whole coffee beans.

     He looks back at you quickly. “Please let me live here,” he blurts out with full conviction. It stuns you and then you laugh. “I’ll pay double your asking price.”

     You stop laughing then. “Deal.”

     Tim settles in quickly in your apartment since he doesn’t have too many things. A week’s worth of clothes, his laptop, two pairs of shoes, and some toiletries. 

     You had a roommate before him but she just disappeared half a year ago. You called her family and it turns out that she ran off with a lover. You thought she would be back in a month’s time but 6 months have gone by and her advance payments are about to run out.

     Needless to say, Timothy Drake-Wayne is now sleeping in a pastel purple bedroom littered with motivation posters and 30-Day challenge workouts.

     “You can take them down, you know.”

     Tim shrugs, “I kind of like them. They help me get up in the morning.”

     You roll your eyes.“Yeah sure.” Tim is not a morning person. He only thinks he is. He’ll wake up past noon. Then when you get home, he’ll greet you good morning even when it’s dark outside.

     “Is that a cut?”

     Without thinking about it, your hand reaches out to brush back his bangs and look at what is actually a gash on his forehead. “Tim, it’s still bleeding. Wash it!!”

     Before he could reply, you go to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit. You start fussing over the antiseptic, cotton, and gauze while he’s just staring at you. “Tim, wash it under the sink,” you repeat.

     A little dazed, Tim finally gets up and goes to the sink. You wait for him to finish, with a towel ready to dry his face. As soon as he’s done, you start dabbing the antiseptic on his forehead.

     “Hey. That doesn’t hurt.”

     You make a grim face, a look of disgust really. “Is that why you didn’t treat it? Because you’re afraid it’ll hurt.”

     He laughs, “No no. It’s just-- Usually when Alfred does this, it stings.”

     There are so many things you want to say to that. Who’s Alfred? Why don’t you tend to your own wounds? What happened? But instead, you say, “Do you often get into fights at Wayne or something? I always thought the people there are either frail-bodied nerds or millionaires too afraid to mess up their cuticles.”

     Tim laughs a little louder, “Why does it have to be at Wayne? I could have gotten this while saving children from a human trafficking ring down by the docks.” He raises an eyebrow at you.

     You narrow your eyes, unamused, “What a coincidence. After work, I just put the Joker back in Arkham Asylum.”

     He shakes his laughter, making it harder for you to put the gauze on. So you grab his chin to keep him steady and then expertly placed it on his gash with one hand. His eyes follow your hands, making him appear cross-eyed and you almost laugh. Then his eyes widen.

     “Wait a minute. Did you just get off work? It’s almost 6? PM?”

     You roll your eyes but you don’t really meddle with his sleeping schedule. He usually leaves the apartment when the sun is coming down and you never hear him come in. But you just assume his internship at Wayne is at night. 

     You wonder if he gets paid for it because he comes in 7 days a week, every night and sometimes even in the afternoon (or god forbid in the morning). But he doesn’t really need the money so maybe it’s a family obligation thing?

     Sometimes though, like once or twice a month, he gets a day off. He’ll sit with you on the couch while you drink the mochas you made and binge-watch NCIS.

     “You know…” you say one day, hugging your mug to yourself. “You never did tell me why you chose to live here.”

     “I did, didn’t I? It’s close to Wayne--”

     “Bullshit,” you call out. “I get that you bike to work so it’s an easy commute but you own part of Wayne. I know you can get a driver to get you there or work from home or not work at all if you wanted to.”

     Tim looks at you for a moment before he goes quiet. He’s staring into his mug and lightly shaking it to watch the liquid move around inside.

     You suddenly want to slap yourself, “I’m sorry. It’s not my place to know--”

     “No, it’s okay,” he says, smiling. He places the mug on the coffee table. He grabs the remote to lower the volume down and then hunches with his elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the screen.

     “It was just good timing when I saw your post. It was getting a little crowded at the manor.”

     You keep looking at him and wonder if you should stop him. This almost looks painful for him but Tim keeps going.

     “When I first got there, I was the only one there. Dick has his own place. Jason was--” he shrugs, “It was just me, Bruce, and Alfred.” Alfred, you now know, was actually their butler, but Tim talks about him more like a parent, to both him and Bruce Wayne.

     “It was great. Mostly quiet. Peaceful. And then like a hurricane, all of them just came, one by one. Dick, Jason, and then Damian. It was a nightmare. We were at each other’s throat. Literally!” he’s staring wide-eyed at you, half-hoping you’ll know he’s telling you the truth. “And I couldn’t get a single good night’s sleep. I just-- I needed my own place. Away from them.”

     Tim releases this long sigh, one that feels like he’s been keeping for a while. “When it was just me, Bruce, and Alfred, I never noticed it because I was too self-absorbed-- about the adoption and the--” he looks at you like a deer caught in the headlights then coughs and continues, “I didn’t notice that they weren’t as happy as I was. That they were in silent mourning.”

     “So when my brothers were at the manor, Bruce and Alfred-- They were shocked but I’ve never seen them look happier. It was so small, almost barely a hint of a smile. And I just--” He sighs again, this time leaning back to rest his head against the couch. “So I feel a little guilty about leaving.”

     You wait in case Tim had more things to get off his chest. This is the first you’ve heard him talk in broken sentences. He’s usually a lot more composed that his sentences are always grammatically correct, full-structured, and well-phrased. Like listening to an essay.

     When he doesn’t say anything more, you ask, “Do you regret leaving?”

     Tim Drake stares at the ceiling. He visits the manor every now and then but not much has changed. They’re still fighting a lot, with less intent to kill, but still enough to seriously maim. But really he misses seeing Alfred every day, helping him in the garden and eating his home cooking. 

     And Bruce. He wonders if Bruce is doing fine. If he’s happy Jason is back or proud to finally have his own son fighting side by side with him. He hopes Bruce’s is a little upset he left. He wishes he’d mourn for him a little like he did with Dick and Jason.

     But is he happy? Tim was feeling overwhelmed by the past that his brothers brought back with them. So much pain, regrets, and hatred. He never knew families could be so complicated. One minute they wanted to murder each other and the next they’re risking their own lives to save you. ‘Do I regret it?’ he wonders. ‘Do I regret doing what Dick and Jason have done, leaving the nest-- the cave and the Titans-- to find my own way of life? My own path?’ 

     ‘Not one bit.‘

     Then he turns to you with every intention of saying just that. He looks at you while you hold your white Superman mug in your hand, your lips hovering over the rim and the steam rises up to your face. He watches the light smoke dance as your breath goes in and out.

     Your eyes are staring at him with your hair hanging down, framing your face. He watches your cheeks slowly go red and your eyes widen. You look away, missing the same shade of red covering Tim’s cheeks.

     “Crap.”

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ���  

[coleyholts]

After today’s heavy post, here’s a letter I wrote for Natasha’s surgeon.

A Letter to the Man Who Saved My Daughter’s Life

Dear Dr. Moores,

On June 12, 2021, my sweet eight-month-old daughter rolled off of my bed, ultimately leading to her being flown by helicopter to INOVA Children’s Hospital for an emergency intracranial procedure.  Miraculously, the epidural hematoma was removed successfully and my daughter has made a full recovery.  I, however, have not.

I have been experiencing flashback-like episodes associated with PTSD, along with regular cry fits (super embarrassing, escalates quickly) and anxiety attacks, all relating to the accident.  I am fortunate to be under the care of some very skilled medical professionals that have been guiding me through management of my medications and compulsions, as well as a very insightful therapist who specializes in PTSD and family life that I see weekly.

A typical therapy session for me usually begins with a general review of my week, followed by a few key questions that will give my therapist a better look into where I’ve been emotionally.  During my most recent session, he chose to ask me when I had last cried, and my response is what made him suggest that I write this letter to you.

What started as a casual conversation with my mother about beautiful, clean sutures progressed to one where she wanted to know more about Natasha’s surgeon.  I pulled up your INOVA profile and noticed in your introduction video, you described what you consider to be one of the most rewarding aspects of your chosen field as the bond you are able to form with your patients and their parents.  

Watching you speak about what you do moved me.  I burst into tears, knowing that my baby would have died without you.  The tears kept coming as I thought about you and the weight you must carry, and after answering my therapist honestly about this being the last time I cried, he suggested I write you this letter; a raw, sincere, mildly lengthy letter that you may read in your free time (if you ever have any!).

Thank you for preforming the surgery that saved my baby. Thank you for being brave enough to take on such a responsibility, as I know with trauma patients, you never know what the final outcome is going to be.  Though doctors are miracles, they are human, and I thank you for taking the risk with the intentions of keeping my daughter alive, knowing the risks involved.

Thank you for moving so quickly.  I hope it’s not every single day that a less than 12-month-old infant comes in after an accident resulting in head trauma that needs immediate surgical intervention, but the way the trauma team and you personally moved with urgency in such a time sensitive situation solidified the feeling of, “We truly have done absolutely all we can,” as parents.  This greatly helped with my struggle with guilt.

Thank you for the way you address(ed) my husband and I.  Natasha was a very wanted baby.  It took a long time to conceive and seeing that positive pregnancy test was supposed to be the start of something beautiful.  I ended up with a completely ruptured disc in my lumbar spine that was causing permanent nerve damage in my left leg.  I was sent to UVA for spine surgery, fully knowing the risks to my 8-week-old embryo, which I absolutely was already referring to as my baby. Signing the paperwork to release the team of responsibility of miscarriage was very emotional for Daniel & I.  Seeing her heart beating as I came out of anesthesia was one of the most blissful moments of my life.  You didn’t know any of this.  You didn’t know a thing about us, including the story about what happened aside from her falling from my bed. Most importantly, you didn’t know Natasha, yet took on the massive project of removing a baseball-sized blood clot from her skull.

Thank you for the years you put into perfecting your craft.  I want you to know that, for what it’s worth, all of the time, money, challenging classes, sleepless nights, heartbreak, missed events, and everything else that has come your way since you began to practice truly means something to me.  Your mind has great value, and I am so grateful that of all of the surgeons in the area, we ended up with you.

Thank you for calling and checking on Natasha during her healing process, as well as making personal contact before we were discharged.  It’s super uplifting to know that the professionals that know the details of her procedure care about my family enough to personally reach out to see us off.  It boosted our confidence, and although we understandably left the hospital feeling exhausted, full of sorrow and disbelief, I was able to maintain an “I can do this” attitude.

There is no amount of money in the world I could ever throw your way to appropriately thank you for what you have done for us.  There is nothing I can say to ever reflect my true feelings of thankfulness for you and your talents.

You changed our lives by saving hers, and you will forever be spoken of in our home and among our families and friends as a genius, a hero and an all-around beautiful person.  Though the circumstances could have been much happier and less chaotic, I am so grateful to have made your acquaintance.

You are brilliant, and have completely found your niche in this world of upset and harm, in a role that quite literally gives you the chance (for your patients) to cheat death.  You’ve given us, as well as so many others, a whole new outlook on life that allows us to recenter our focus on what matters-the people we love.

Though we will be seeing you for yearly follow-up visits for a while, I needed to make sure you knew the impact you had on a mother who felt like a part of her died that day.

Sincerely,

Nicole Holtslag

[gwendolynnderolo]

An analysis of Ronan, Adam, and Gansey

So many people are quick to write off characters in The Raven Cycle, seen most often with Gansey but also with Adam and Ronan. People call them selfish, cruel, insensitive, self-centered, and bad friends. What people often don’t understand is that every single one of these characters is written like an actual person, so they’re all complex and multi dimensional people. They’re not all good or all bad, they do good and bad things. More importantly, all three of these characters have traumas that affect every single decision they make throughout the whole book. This is really long so please bear with me.

Ronan

I’m starting with Ronan because I feel like he’s the one who gets the least hate out of the three, and because he has some of the most easily traceable trauma. Gansey describes Ronan as having been much happier and more carefree before Niall died, and that he became a radically different person after Niall’s death. Considering the circumstances of his death, it’s obvious why Ronan was so fundamentally changed by it. As a 15/16 year old, Ronan found his father, who he loved more than anyone in the world, dead in the driveway after being viciously beaten to death with a tire iron. Losing your father and one of the most important people in your life at that age would be enough to seriously mess up most people, but being the one to find the body makes it even worse. Ronan lost his father, his mother, his home, and to some extent his brothers in one fell swoop, leaving him with nothing and no one but Gansey and Monmouth to help him through tremendous grief and trauma. Obviously, Ronan does not have the healthiest coping mechanisms. He clearly has depression and some form of PTSD, which affects his sleep and often leads him to do reckless things such as drinking, street racing, or getting $900 tattoos. These are all forms of self harm that Ronan is inflicting on himself as a form of punishment and a way to cope with his self hatred and trauma. Ronan is nearly killed by one of his dream creatures, which are things that are created by him and manifestations of his own desires in some way, meaning that Ronan is also suicidal, which also contributes to his poor coping mechanisms. Ronan is consistently cruel and insensitive towards his friends, which is another coping mechanism; as he’s trying to push away the people he cares about as a way of punishing himself. In the aftermath of an incredibly life-altering traumatic event, instead of a therapist or any other calming and potentially helpful presence, Ronan has Gansey and Gansey’s quest, which he throws himself into in lieu of dealing with his own issues. Not to mention, there’s definitely plenty of Catholic guilt and internalized homophobia to further contribute to Ronan’s self hatred.

Adam

I feel like people either love Adam or don’t really care about him but I’m going to write a miniature dissertation on him and his trauma anyways. Adam grew up without any affection, validation, or emotional support whatsoever. It’s stated multiple times that Adam’s parents would talk about how much they wished they hadn’t had him in earshot of Adam, which is something no kid should ever have to hear. Adam did not have a single friend until he met Gansey. He spent the first 16 years of his life entirely alone, depending entirely on himself for everything. He’s incredibly ambitious and driven, working three jobs so he can go the best school and go to an Ivy League college. He grew up with nothing, so he’s incredibly protective of everything he has, no matter how small, and resents anyone who wants to change how he operates in any way, even if their intentions are good (Gansey). Adam refuses to accept help from anyone, insisting that things only mean anything if he’s earned them himself. This obviously stems from his entire childhood and adolescence of having to fight for everything, whether it was a job, an education, grades, or food. Adam never had someone in his life who genuinely cared about helping him before he met Gansey, so he views Gansey’s genuine attempts at friendship as pity. Him and Gansey have entirely different backgrounds, sets of skills, and ways of handling things, which often leads to them not understand each other’s intentions. Adam’s fierce protection of his independence often supersedes his relationships, causing him to lash out at anyone who he feels threatens that independence. Adam lives every day of his life wanting things he can’t have and having to work tirelessly to even come close to having those things, things that Gansey and Ronan don’t even have to think about. Adam both admires and resents Gansey and Ronan, two emotions that often clash in a friendship. Adam’s reactions to Gansey’s attempts to help him throughout the series, are not necessarily justified by his trauma, but they’re certainly explained by it.

Gansey

The time has come. Gansey is one of the most fiercely debated characters in the TRC fandom. Multiple times throughout the series, Gansey is incredibly arrogant, self-centered, and insensitive, and many people criticize him for that. I’m here to say: LITERALLY EVERY TEENAGER EVER IS ARROGANT, SELF-CENTERED, AND INSENSITIVE. Gansey is a 16/17 year old kid, and all 16/17 year olds are dicks at some point. This is not excusing anything that Gansey does, but a lot of people tend to forget that these characters are teenagers, and cannot be held to the same standards that adults are held to. Gansey led a fairly sheltered lifestyle in his childhood, and developed his own way of looking at the world and dealing with problems. His only role models were his parents and his older sister, who relied on money to fix all of their problems and coasted through life on status. Gansey has never lived without having enough money to fix everything that comes his way, so that’s what he’s used to and how he handles any issue. It’s often not the best way to handle things, but he genuinely was not taught how to handle problems any other way. Gansey explicitly says in the story that he knows that he is privileged, and he consistently tries to use that privilege to help the people he cares about. His actions often cause harm or upset others, but everything he does comes from a place of wanting to help his friends. He also explicitly says that he feels it’s his responsibility to help his friends because he has this privilege, and that he doesn’t have the right to have to rely on them for anything because he is so privileged. A 16/17 year old boy should never feel like the livelihood of others is his responsibility or that he can’t ask his friends for help because of his background. Gansey has placed this incredible weight on his shoulders because he feels it’s his duty to carry it and he doesn’t even believe that he can ask anyone to share the load. On top of all of this, Gansey lives every day of his life knowing that he could be seconds from death. He died as a child and was brought back, and then he clung to the one thing he believed could save him because he believed he had no other choice. Living in constant awareness of your own fragility and mortality would be enough to set anyone on edge, and Gansey deals with that on top of his responsibilities to his friends. Nearly everything Gansey does in the series is out of love for his friends, and because we see so many of his actions from the point of view of Adam or Ronan, they’re often warped and appear selfishly motivated.

In conclusion

THEY. ARE. TEENAGERS. Every teenager does dumb shit, and hurts other people, intentionally or unintentionally, and is arrogant and selfish and self-centered. None of these characters are perfect, because they’re all people. Also, the book is never told from the point of view of an objective narrator. Every single character is an unreliable narrator because their worldview is warped based on their own personal experiences and biases. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk and message me if you want to scream about TRC together.

[yodawgiherd]

Red flag pt.3

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Soon brothers.

Just not yet.  :D

In the following week, Mikasa learned more about sex than she ever did before. While the internet itself was a fickle teacher, giving facts and hundred and more opinions from anonymous users, Eren was an endless well of knowledge. It was her who asked first too, he didn’t even try to talk about it before Mikasa brought it up. And how could she help herself, with such an insane bomb being dropped on her!

First things first – she googled the name of the agency he worked at, just to be sure that he was not bulshitting her, but everything he said seemed to be true. The website was there, displaying the “ wide variety of services done by long-term professionals”. Although Eren’s name was not there, he told her that he is listed as Master E, a thing she immediately questioned. Over messenger, of course.

Master E? Damn that’s lame.

You wound me :(

I mean seriously, couldn’t you be something cooler?

Such as?

I don’t know! Master Evil. Dungeon Master. Lord of the Night?

Yea, I’m sure that dungeon master would be turning heads

….. Orgasminator?

Mikasa pls

Lord horsecock

Stoooooop I beg you!

Fine fine, you’re just jealous I’m that much better at naming than you

Sure am.

When he didn’t continue, Mikasa took the initiative.

Sooooooooooo, gonna tell me where the Master E came from?

Simple. Annie wanted to be Mistress A so I just latched onto her vibe

Uh-hu. So you are just that much unoriginal

:( sadly

Just imagining Eren pouting at his phone made Mikasa’s evening that much brighter. She wanted to see more of it.

Latching on Annie, you do that a lot don’t you?

Why is that?

Well, she’s the one who introduced you to this whole thing and even today she is the best at your agency, most advertised one too. Playing catch up your whole life? Maaaaaaster E? :P

Hey, it’s not my fault that men are bigger pervs than women.

Excuses

To be honest, I don’t mind being behind Annie, she’s good at this. Also, don’t tell her this, but she scares me sometimes

Scares you how :O

Annie can be really brutal when she gets into it. Nothing the clients don’t ask for, mind you, but still. If you’d see her victims….. the wounds……

Mikasa’s breath caught in her throat.

Are you serious?

I don’t know…. Am I?

Dork.

She frowned at her phone, but still looked when the answer pinged in.

I am partly serious though. She can be a nightmare, sometimes I feel like she’s on a one-woman crusade against the male population. And she’s getting paid for it too!

She sounds like a hell of a woman.

You bet :)

Master E also had several scenes online, to be bought and watched, and a few times Mikasa almost clicked the button and spent her hard-earned cash on kinky porn. It was the promise of a live show that stopped her from doing so. She didn’t know if she’s going to go yet but buying a video of something she could watch happening in real time was a waste of money. No, she wouldn’t spoil that surprise.

She learned much anyway, way too much even, things that made her blush and hide her face, things that made her quickly hide her phone. In moments like these, she was grateful that the communication was being done over the internet, as Eren was way too intense of a person to be talked about this face to face. Here, hidden behind her screen, she could pester him for ages, joking and making fun of whatever he gave her. And, during these conversations, she learned another important thing.

For a guy who was more or less a professional perv, Eren used a lot of emojis in his messages.

It caught her off guard, how normal and easy to talk to he was. She didn’t think that he was a monster or something, but Eren was right when he said that her opinion of him changed fundamentally once she found out about his job. Mikasa found herself texting to him, a lot, and he texted back, snapped photos until she started doing it too, and overall just had a great time. Levi was giving her sidelong glares when he kept catching her while she stared at her phone, grinning like a maniac, but she simply ignored him. How was she supposed to not laugh when Eren just sent her a photo of his cup from a coffee shop with a crying emoji. Apparently, they spelled his name wrong again and kept calling him Aaron.

What’s the most common thing they ask you to do?

She half hid her face in the pillow, already dreading the answer. The three dots that appeared in the corner indicated that he was typing an answer, and soon enough there was a ping.

I feel like I’ll disappoint you here.

Most of my clients are easily satisfied  - basic bondage/dominance stuff works wonders

They could do that with literally anyone else

Like their boyfriends and stuff

Mikasa frowned, typing an answer.

Why don’t they then?

Ping

Sometimes it’s the professionalism I bring to the table, and then I understand them.

But often it's just a lack of communication

You’d be surprised how many things can be solved if two parties talk to each other.

I usually advise it too, tell them that they could be doing this with someone they love and not me

You undermine your own clientele like this? Mikasa wrote Why would you do that?

A few dollars ain't worth if they could be happier. Then again, not every one of them takes my advice, it's difficult to open up about things like these.

That gave Mikasa a perfect chance to poke at him.

Not for you, apparently :p

Ping

:D true, but I work in the business

The range of things they discussed was wide. Save for her past, which she did not want to talk about, and made it crystal clear too, Mikasa shared a lot. She told him all about her brother and the gym, sent him snaps from her workouts and then typed back angry emojis when he called her sweaty tryhard. His overall ignorance towards something that was a big part of her life did raise a question. Grabbing her phone more firmly, she quickly typed it out.

Haven’t you thought about doing any martial art yourself?

You deff got the figure for it.

A ping later there was an answer.

Bold of you to say that when you never saw me shirtless :P

But nah

I’m a lover, not a fighter

Plus, you’re just trying to recruit me to your gym, aren’t you?

Levi promised you a bonus?

Spill your beans, Ackerman

Damn spammer. Yet Mikasa was smiling again, which made Levi, who just happened to be passing by, groan.

“Don’t you have a client coming?”, he asked.

She shook her head.

“In an hour, I’ve got plenty of time to get cleaned up.”, she made a gesture with her hand, “Now shoo, I’m having a conversation.”

“With Sasha?”

“Huh?”, she looked up, puzzled, “Why would it be Sasha?”

“Cause I never saw you smiling this much before.”

One week turned to two, and suddenly the day of Eren’s show was here. He remained true to his word, never bringing that event up, keeping it completely in her hands, if she wanted to show up or not. Mikasa was uncertain. The mystery pulled her in, she wanted to see these things for herself. Watching it on the internet is one thing, but live show….

All the stories Eren told her only fueled such a flame. He always omitted names and such, for the discretion of his clients, but he didn’t hold back on the details. To be fair, Mikasa did ask for those.

Sasha wasn’t much help in her decision process either, because Mikasa didn’t want to share all the details about Eren yet. She told her friend that the guy from the bar invited her to a strange-looking place, and wanted to know if she should go.

“Did you two fuck?”

Mikasa frowned, realizing that Sasha can’t see her over the phone.

“No Sash, we didn’t. He’s a friend.”

“Oh, okay.”, there was a crack on the other side as she probably munched on another potato chip, “And is he a friend-friend, or friend-you-would-like-to-fuck?”

“Why is that the question?”

Sasha giggled.

“Dunno just wanted to ask.”

“You’re not helping at all….”

“Because it's easy! You either trust that guy and go or don’t trust him, block his number and never see him again. Boom, solved!”

If only it was so simple.

Yet when the day rolled around, Mikasa woke up with a decision in her mind. She’s going to go there. Eren was a great friend, and she was curious about this whole thing. She will be masked, anonymous, and if there is something she won’t like, the door will be there. This raised another question, however, of what does one wear to a BDSM club.

Mikasa, in her vanilla life, did not feel the need to buy anything made of leather or latex and wasn’t about to start now. There was one pair of leather paints she used to own until one day a completely random guy on the street told her that her ass looks really good in them. Mikasa threw those pants right out that evening. Public exposure was something she was NOT looking for. So, she had a small variety to choose from anyway. Mostly jeans, one or two skirts and a single dress that she wore to prom and that probably wouldn’t fit her anymore. Standing in front of the wardrobe, she contemplated calling Sasha again but ultimately decided against it. Mikasa Ackerman is a grown woman. She can choose her own clothes, damn it.

In the end, it was just a simple shirt and jeans combo. She reasoned that it added to her secretiveness, as anyone could wear what she was wearing. Satisfied with her completely basic appearance, she headed for the door, grabbing the keys and popping her head into the kitchen.

“I’m heading out.”, she announced, “Borrowing the car too.”

“Oh? And you tell me now?”, Levi tsked, shaking his head, “Damn brat, you really have no manners. When will you be back?”

“Later, maybe tomorrow. Don’t wait up.”

The words were already forming in Levi’s mouth, but Mikasa spoke faster.

“I’m an adult, so please. Just don’t.”

And, to her surprise, he didn’t.

“Fine. But if there is even a single scratch on the car, I’m taking it out of your paycheck.”

“That’s fair. I’ll see you later then.”

“Later.”, he was already half-turned back towards the Tv, before he added, “Drive safely.”

And that’s how, an hour and a half later, she was standing in front of a completely unassuming building. The door was just like any other, with a small sign and everything, not strange in the slightest. The security guard might have been a bit of a giveaway. He was tall, wide and dressed in a tailored suit that fit him perfectly. When Mikasa approached, he sized her up and down.

“I’m afraid that this is a members only club.”, he spoke in low barytone, “Do you have a card?”

“I uhh... I was told that I can come in. I’m a friend of Eren, my name is Mi-…”

The guard raised a hand before she could finish.

“No names, please. We pride ourselves on anonymity.”

Seeing Mikasa nod, he continued.

“Mr. Yeager did tell me that someone might be coming and that I should let them straight in. So I will do just that.”, he stepped aside, “Once you enter, the masks will be to your right, and after choosing one please don’t forget to return it. Enjoy your stay.”

Mumbling her thanks, Mikasa dipped inside, finding herself in a small room. There were the masks, just as the guard said, and another door that led to the club itself. She could hear muted music coming through. First things first, she stepped closer to the selection, casting an inspecting eye over it. There were several types, all possible shapes and sizes form full hoods to tiny eye-masks. After a bit of healthy consideration, she grabbed a black one that covered the upper half of her face, more than enough to remain anonymous. It was not likely that she would meet anyone that knew her anyway, let’s be honest. Masked, ready as ever, curious and wanting to see more, Mikasa took a deep breath and entered the door, stepping right into Eren’s world.

[hqprotectionsquad]

Meant To Be (Part Two - Tadashi x Reader)

Title: Meant To Be Ship: Tadashi x Reader Word Count: 2415 Summary: Tadashi never expected himself to be at a frat party on the first night of college, and Y/N never expected herself to end up at a frat party with a boy she just met.

(accidentally messed up my post so it’s not the same summary, and i wish i remembered what it was :c)

Meant To Be - Part One here!

“This isn’t really where I expected myself to be on the night of my first day at college,” Tadashi muses as he swirls his head to take in all the sights. A frat party of all places. The multicolored lights block your vision almost completely and it’s hard to see what’s in front of you. People splay wide on each other with the cracked leather couches underneath each other, and it’s impossible to turn in one direction and not see anyone sucking face.

Your friend, Michi, told you to bring your “cutie,” when she started donning her clothing back in your dorm room. You laughed upon hearing that and turned to look at her final outfit of barely anything at that matter. Were your leggings and flannel not enough? Whatever. It didn’t matter because Michi was there to attempt to find her latest flavor and you were just strung along, and you were most definitely not going through this experience alone.

Tadashi came along on his own will and boy, you are so glad that he’s the one by your side at this very moment. “Michi needed friends to come along, but at least she told me that since we also brought our friends, Kazuo and Chihiro, we’re okay to leave if we want to.” You raise your voice but Tadashi can just barely hear you over the pounding music that flows throughout the house. No matter where in the world, you suppose the fraternities know how to throw a party. 

His head leans down by your ear to say, “I can’t believe I had to pay to get in but you didn’t!” The mere centimeters between his lips and your ear make you slightly delirious and you don’t even have anything in your system yet.

Despite his efforts to make himself clearer, there’s no point. “I can’t hear you, Tadashi!”

His hand grasps your fingers as Tadashi walks to anywhere he feels like the decibels decrease. He’s quite the tall boy, but you already noticed that before. In this dark lighting, there are glimpses of freckles that adorn his neck but you can’t tell if they go down further since his corduroy jacket hugs his nape. He has a bit of a homey, but fashionable taste in clothing, you might add.

When he halts by the kitchen, he is happier that at least he can hear and see you properly, despite the sloshing of people and alcohol. After watching people throw back their heads to send the liquor down their throats, Tadashi has a better idea that makes up for him having to pay an entrance fee, even if he’s a little disturbed by the thought popping into his head. “Do you know what’s the best to drink?”

The look on his face tells you that he’s never really done anything like this before. “What if we both take shots? Just to get it over with and then take it from there.” You pull plastic cups off the counter and pour in enough of the liquor to cover the bottom of them. The potent liquid appears like water, but you know better. One of the red cups goes into his hand and Tadashi purses his lips and furrows his brows when the scent hits his nose.

“Have you tried this before? It’s going to burn our throats, won’t it?” A controlled breath pushes through his mouth. You nod with a giggle flowing out of your mouth. You haven’t even had a sip and you can feel crimson dashes coating your cheeks. What is going on, you’re never like this around, boys, girls — anyone for that matter.

“We should do it together on a count of three. At least, that way, we can’t chicken out.” The corner of your lip curls into a triumphant grin. There’s no way you’ll get this virgin out of this important event of life. Tadashi’s head bobs up and down with an affirmative strength. You bump your cup against his and count down. “Three, two, one.”

It’s more of a smoother transition from plastic to throat for you. You press your mouth against your elbow for a polite cough, not wanting your messy saliva to get all over the place. On the other hand, you keep an eye on Tadashi as he hesitates to lift the rim up to his lips. The next second, he tosses the liquid back and it sails along his tongue, searing his taste buds. He resists the urge to hack it up and onto the floor, so he forces it down, but the taste remains on the inside of his cheeks.

“So,” you poke his side with a finger as you speak. “How was it?” You ask even though his facial expression tells it all — his nose scrunches when you ask the question. It’s so obvious.

“Probably won’t be doing that again for a while.” Tadashi mutters and a laugh comes out after. A smile surfaces on your face without you even noticing. Has his cheeks always been dusted with the same freckles of his neck? Has he always shined this bright among people? How is this the first time you’ve met this boy? “I don’t think hard alcohol seems to be my cup of tea.”

“It’s okay. It’s just something to get us loose,” you mention, though you don’t want to keep shoving down liquor like everyone else in this room is. You want to remember these moments, whatever this night will bring to you. You find a liter of soda somewhere and unscrew the cap. “Maybe you’re just a sweet tooth.” You pour a bit into both of your cups and set the liter off to the side for the next person to use.

Tadashi sips from the cup without a beat to wait. He takes a minute to look all around him and you can’t really tell what he’s thinking about as he sees these girls and boys who all seem to know what they’re doing. Everyone here has an idea of what they want to be or who they want to be with, no matter their age or gender. It kind of makes you wish you were at least a little normal. 

“Who goes to college without an idea of what they want to do?” Your mother sneered at you when you clicked the button that sucked away a portion of your money. “I can’t believe you’re enrolling without a single idea of what you’d want to be after that. You need to decide otherwise…” She thought of a consequence on the spot and the next words that came out her mouth pierced your heart and ripped it to shreds. “Otherwise, I won’t pay for your education. You’ll have to find a way to pay for it yourself.”

“Mom!” You pushed away from the table and stood up to meet her eyes. Her voice didn’t seem convincing but you knew that look. That look was deadly and worked every single time. There was no one to save you here, nobody to convince her otherwise. “Okay. Fine. Just give me my first year, both semesters. I’ll figure it out.”

That conversation was two months ago and on this first day of being immersed in the college atmosphere, the tightness in your chest from that day returns at this very moment. Why are you even here? In college?

“I miss my friend,” Tadashi says, breaking you out of your clouds. “He’s in school in Tokyo. He wants to study history. He’s always wanted to work in a museum, so it makes sense.” That is what was reeling in his mind as he looked at the kissing couples and the drunk students, completely different from you.

“He seems nice.” Another sip from your cup allows you to think of what to say next. What are you supposed to say next? “You know what, let’s get out of here.” You can’t take the thermal tension building within this one room. You’ll get another experience to go to a party, but you just need to get out.

“Leave?” He scratches his temple with his nail. A nervous smile dances onto his face and his tongue swipes along his bottom lip. Does he know that with the slightest effort, he can make anyone fall for him? “Are you sure, because we can stay if you want more—”

“I really don’t. I’m not as big a drinker as Michi, or really anyone.” The truth seems a little lame when you say it out loud but Tadashi lets out a sigh of relief.

“I thought you were going to say you wanted to drink more. I’m glad you’re not.”

“We can head back to my dorm, if you want. Since Michi’s staying here for a while, she’ll probably crash at Chihiro’s room.” You toss your empty cup into the plastic bag on the side of the kitchen. “We’ll be by ourselves,” you add, albeit with your cheeks glowing, either from the influx of alcohol in your system or for a separate reason.

The icy air flutters across your skins as you and Tadashi take your leave after attempting to say goodbye to Michi, Kazuo, and Chihiro. It ends up being no use because you’re sure Michi is sidling up to some guy she just met, and at some point in the evening, you’re certain Kazuo will blubber to Chihiro of the feelings he’s harbored for her since middle school. Your friends can be predictable, which is why you’re thankful for Tadashi. He’s been unexpected since you’ve met him this afternoon. You definitely could not have expected to be at a frat party with him tonight and bringing him to your dorm with no specific intentions except to free yourselves from the stuffy house.

“It’s nice outside, especially after being in there for a bit,” Tadashi does not say this to you specifically, but to the open, because when you open up your mouth to form a reply, he’s already looking straight ahead. “Oh! I forgot to ask earlier.”

“Yes?”

“Where’s your dorm? I think I might be leading us to a random place.” Tadashi rubs the back of his neck and when he exhales, you can see his breath swirling in the wind.

Oh. That’s what he was referring to, not anything else. Silly of you to think otherwise. “I live in one of the dorms close by here. I’ll just lead.”

For the next ten to fifteen minutes leading until you are standing in front of your dorm door, no words are exchanged. With the quiet steps hitting the pavement, you hope — for two seconds — that you stayed at the party, just for one more shot. The effects are already starting to wear off and not that you want to mask your feelings behind alcohol, but it would sure help.

Your fingers vibrate while you jiggle the key into the doorknob, yet you miss it the first couple of times because your fingers are shaking and it’s gotten to the point that you can’t really tell if they are shaking from the high you’re experiencing from the alcohol or the boy who is standing really close to you.

“Let me help you,” he says with a laugh. Maybe he’s not a lightweight like you. On his first try, he pushes the door open with ease.

“I’m guessing the alcohol didn’t get to you the same way it got to me,” you murmur. You think to opt for your bed, but instead you cross your legs on the carpeted floor, patting the space in front of you for him to sit.

“It’s my first time, so I don’t really know what to expect.” Tadashi crouches down and when he mimics your position, you realize that his cheeks are bright red.

“Your cheeks are as red as mine,” you giggle with delight. There’s not much to say except make small conversation, but if this is what it comes to, then you are more than happy to participate. Not just everyone meets a person like this on their first day of college, and you don’t want to let him go.

Maybe it’s the dimmed lights that are stringed around the perimeter of the dorm, or perhaps it’s how close your knees are to touching, but this only reminds Tadashi of better times. He’s already sobering up and he wants this to be one of those times he looks back on. What kind of movie is he living in?

He inches toward you and your clothed knees brush against his. The slight bit of tension that ensues is overbearing. Have you been this pretty your whole life? Tadashi’s lips press against yours. It’s just as he imagined this to be: soft and sweet, though a little tangy from the vodka. His palm cups the edge of your jaw and his fingers splay against your cheek.

Tadashi pulls away with wide eyes. “I just remembered I forgot to speak to my parents. They told me to call them when I had the chance tonight.”

He begins pulling out his phone, when you pat his hand with a smile. “You probably shouldn’t talk to them now, we’re both a little drunk.” You don’t even know how that would go down. Even though Tadashi’s more sober than you are, it might be awkward if he ever let out the truth of where he went tonight, where he is right now, and who he’s been with.

“Oh. You’re right.” Tadashi slips his phone back into his pants pocket. “Was that kiss okay? Did I read the situation wrong?” His cheeks start to flare up again like fireworks. He twiddles with his fingers in his lap, suddenly interested in how the pads from one hand touch the other.

“Tadashi, I liked it a lot.” You reach out to slip your hand into his and it surprises you that he allows it to happen. Your heart is beating against your ribcage, threatening to slip out of your body, and your pulse speeds up when his hazel eyes meet yours.

His voice comes out timid, and you can barely hear him when he asks, “So you wouldn’t mind it if I did it again?”

“I’d like it if you did it again.” His lips are slightly chapped when they’re molding with yours but you don’t mind it at all. Perhaps leaving the party after one drink is the best thing that could have happened to you.

[clumsyclifford]

intimacy prompts - 37 with mashton? feels like it would work for them

i got this idea and then i just felt like a compelling need to write it im sorry im not taking these prompts literally enough however this plot is absolutely crucial frankly i don’t know why it’s not employed in fic more often

-

“This stuff doesn’t work,” Ashton says.

Michael frowns. “You’re saying you don’t want to fall in love with me?”

“I’m saying there are better ways to fall in love than to just a bunch of questions,” Ashton says. “If I were going to be in love with you, don’t you think I’d have done it by now? I’ve known you for, like, seven years.”

“I’m pretty sure you are in love with me and you’re just in denial,” Michael says dismissively. “But that’s not the point. I’m just curious. Look, worst case scenario it doesn’t work and we just become closer friends.”

“And best case scenario?” Ashton asks, raising his eyebrows. He can’t really think of a best case scenario here, because falling in love with Michael through a series of carefully curated questions just feels fraudulent, and Ashton wouldn’t believe himself if it “worked.”

“We fall in love,” Michael says. “Duh.”

Ashton rolls his eyes. “Fine. But I want it on the record that I don’t think there’s any merit to this experiment, and I’m mostly doing it so I can have material to blackmail you with.”

Michael smirks. “Sure you are.”

(And maybe a little bit because he’s curious to see what will happen. If maybe it is possible to fall in love in thirty-six questions. If Ashton were going to fall for anyone this easily, he reckons it would be Michael.)

-

Some of the questions are kind of funny. When Ashton asks Michael, “Would you like to be famous? In what way?” Michael snorts before going off about how badly he wants to be a rock star, and how he’s worried he’ll never make it, because everyone in his band sucks and he doesn’t know if this song he wrote is good enough for any record labels. Then Ashton hits him and tells him that if they’re really going to do this, they have to be honest, and from there it gets, well. 

“If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future, or anything else, what would you want to know?” Michael reads, and then props his chin in his hand and looks expectantly at Ashton.

If Ashton had known just how probing these questions would be, he’s not sure he’d have agreed to this game. (If it can be called a game.) It’s not that he’s uncomfortable, but it’s hard to be open and honest like this, with no buffer, just him, Michael, and the truth.

“Nothing,” Ashton says, which is the only truthful answer he can come up with. Michael looks unimpressed. “I mean it. I wouldn’t want to know anything. What’s the point of life if you can just look up the answers? Why, what would you say?”

“I —” Michael purses his lips. “I’m not sure. But not nothing. I guess, I don’t know, I’d want to know if the band will last.”

“But if you knew the band would last, you’d stop working as hard to keep it together,” Ashton says. “And if you knew it wouldn’t, you’d just give up, wouldn’t you?”

“Would not,” Michael says, defensive, almost offended. “I’d do my best to make sure that future never came true.”

“It’s the future, Mike. It’s — it’s going to come true, that’s the point.”

“If the future tells me something I don’t like, I have every right to try and fight it,” Michael says stubbornly. “The band doesn’t tank unless I say it does.”

Ashton’s gut twists, although not in an unpleasant way. Actually, the dogged determination to protect what he loves is one of Ashton’s favorite things about Michael, and hearing him talk about the band like he’d rather die than lose it is making Ashton feel, well, something. He’s not sure what, and not sure he wants to know, although he has a feeling it’ll identify itself before the thirty-six questions are through.

They work through a few more questions in the second set. Then Michael, slightly strangled, says, “Uh. How close and warm is your family?” He clears his throat. “Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s?”

“That’s two questions,” Ashton says. 

“It’s written as one,” Michael tells him, turning his phone around like Ashton won’t take him at his word. “Well, uh. Go ahead. It’s your turn.”

Ashton bites his lip. “You already know all of this about me,” he says, which is an evasion tactic, and Michael sees right through it.

“You — it’s part of the thing,” he says. “If you don’t want to answer it, I guess…”

“No, I just — I don’t think I’m going to say anything surprising.” Ashton sighs. “How close and warm is my family? Enough. My mum’s gotten better at keeping us close. I think it helps that I have money now. My childhood was unhappy until I joined the band. So, no. I don’t think it was happier than most people’s.”

“Until you joined the band?” Michael echoes, tilting his head. 

“Yeah,” Ashton says. “Like, I didn’t really have anything pushing me forward until that. It gave me direction. And three new friends, which didn’t hurt.”

“You’ve never said that,” Michael says, studying Ashton. Ashton feels like he’ll wilt under Michael’s gaze, too vulnerable, too easy to pull apart.

“Yeah, well.” Ashton clears his throat. “It’s your turn.” He wants to avert his gaze but also really, really doesn’t, and is saved by Michael looking away to reread the question from his phone, and they move forward.

The deeper they get into the questions, especially in the third set, the more Ashton wants to crack a joke, and the worse it feels to do so. They’re in the thick of it now, and even if it’s just a test, to see if it works, it’s not exactly the kind of thing Ashton wants to laugh at — just in case it does. (It can’t. There’s no way it could, because Ashton’s known Michael all this time, and hasn’t been in love with him.

And yet.)

“Tell your partner what you like about them,” Michael reads. “Be very honest — say things you might not say to someone you’ve just met.” He gives Ashton a lopsided smile. “Good thing we didn’t just meet. Lay it on me, Irwin.”

Ashton licks his lips, which suddenly feel dry. “Okay,” he says. This shouldn’t be hard. There’s a lot he likes about Michael. But all of the things immediately flying to Ashton’s tongue are things he would say to a complete stranger; surface compliments, or basic acknowledgements of skill. You’re a good guitarist is ridiculously shallow, and even you’re very dedicated sounds too vague to be true.

“I like that you’re the kind of person who knows how to heal,” Ashton says quietly. Michael furrows his brow. “I mean, I like that you’re someone who doesn’t ever fully break. You’re — you’re so strong, and you put up with so much shit, and every single time, I think, this is it, this is going to be the one that breaks him, but I’m always wrong. I’m glad I’m always wrong. I don’t know what I’d do if you really did break, but I’m always amazed. I’ve never — I think I’m the type to shatter, but you’re not. You can pick yourself up. I admire that about you. I always have.”

Michael swallows. “Oh. That’s — that’s really, like. Thank you, I think.”

Ashton rubs the back of his neck. For some reason, he feels more like an open book from this question — which is really, for him, about Michael — than any of the other ones. “Yeah,” he says. “Uh, you go.”

“I don’t really know how to follow that,” Michael says lightly. Ashton cracks a smile. “Okay, well, um. Alright. I like that you have this, I don’t know, endless optimism. It doesn’t make any sense to me, because I feel like with all the shit you’ve gone through, you should be full of, like, hate, and anger, but instead you always smile, and you believe in people, and,” Michael gestures aimlessly, unaware of the way Ashton’s palms feel clammier every second, “I don’t know. You’re relentless in your optimism, even though you’ve been burned. More than once. I don’t think I could be like that if I — but you are. So…I admire that. It’s very — noble.”

“Noble,” Ashton murmurs, cheeks pink. “Thank you. That’s very kind.” 

“Not really,” Michael says. “It’s just true.” But that makes Ashton feel even warmer, a fizzing sensation building in his chest that he can’t really diagnose. He’s used to pressure like this, but usually it’s anxiety or something, not — whatever’s happening right now, doing this. This kind of pressure feels like it needs to be relieved by someone else.

They make their way through the last of the questions, and by the time they’re through, Ashton feels like he’s just been on the emotional rollercoaster of a lifetime. “I need water,” he says.

“Get me some?” Michael requests, with a halfway smile. Ashton chuckles and takes his leave, returning with two glasses of water.

“Well,” he says delicately, “how do you feel? In love with me?”

“It’s not finished,” Michael says. Ashton frowns; he’s pretty sure there are only thirty-six questions. “Now we have to look into each others’ eyes for four minutes.”

“What?” That’s just...strange. And the more Ashton thinks about it, the more nervous he gets. “Why?”

Michael shrugs. “That’s what the article says. Answer the questions, then look into each others’ eyes for four minutes.”

“Four minutes,” Ashton says hoarsely. “That’s kind of long.”

“I think that’s the point,” Michael says. “Shall we?”

Ashton’s panic response is kicking in, but he’s in too deep now to back out. “Sure,” he manages. Michael smiles, soft and small the way he only ever does for Ashton, and some of Ashton’s tension dissipates.

They sit across from each other, cross-legged on the rug, hands in their laps, and Michael sets a four-minute timer on his phone. “Ready?” he asks. Ashton’s not sure he’s ever going to be ready for this particular task, but it doesn’t really matter; Michael hits the start button and then he’s confronted with Michael’s eyes, gazing into his own, and the realization that it’s going to be this for the next four minutes.

For what feels like an eternity, Ashton twists his fingers around themselves, nervous energy manifesting in fidgeting hands, and he keeps wanting to look away, desperate to close whatever window is being opened right now, because he’s absolutely certain that Michael is seeing into his soul. Then Michael reaches across and gently wraps Ashton’s hands up in his own.

“Stop fidgeting,” he whispers. Ashton can feel the calluses on Michael’s fingertips skimming across the back of Ashton’s hands. He stops fidgeting, but Michael doesn’t take his hands back, and Ashton finds himself hoping he doesn’t decide to. 

Michael’s eyes are very pretty. Ashton zeroes in on that fact. They’re the kind of green that looks like sea glass, maybe, and they’re ridiculously easy to get lost in. Again and again, Ashton has to force himself not to look away. He’s never stared at anyone this intently, for this long, in this kind of silence that feels loaded with tension.

(Since when is it loaded with tension?)

Michael’s palm is warm against the back of Ashton’s hand, and Ashton thinks about that, about how Michael always feels warm when Ashton needs him to be, and thinks about the thirty-six questions, and wonders why they were supposed to make him fall in love with Michael. Most of those questions hadn’t been the kind of thing you’d fall in love with for anyone. Knowing that the last time Michael cried by himself was last night, watching Bambi, shouldn’t really make Ashton fall in love. It wouldn’t. 

Although the knowledge that Michael has been crying alone at all is pretty painful. So is the fact that Michael had clearly been relieved to share that information, as if, slightly less recently, he’d cried on his own for something a little heavier than Bambi. Ashton wants to know what it was. He wants to be the person who holds Michael together while he stitches himself up. Michael’s always had an instrumental role in his life — it had been Michael, in the first place, who’d recruited Ashton for the band — and Ashton could spend all his days trying to return that favor and still come up short.

The pressure in his chest, or the butterflies, or the sparkling soda, whatever it is is back with a vengeance, bubbling over until Ashton feels hot and cold all over. He tightens his grip on Michael’s hands.

The realization that they could kiss right now doesn’t so much hit as settle easily into Ashton’s already volatile mind. In fact, Ashton thinks, he kind of wants to kiss Michael like this. It feels like a natural extension of the questions and the staring, the next bridge to cross, the easiest way to communicate to Michael that — well.

It’s not that Ashton’s fallen in love with Michael, it’s just that maybe being in love with Michael has been Ashton’s reality for a little longer than he’d known.

As soon as that thought lands, the timer on Michael’s phone goes off, a breezy alarm song that startles them both. Michael tugs a hand out of Ashton’s grasp to turn the alarm off, and the eye contact breaks for a second, but Ashton stills feels like he’s in a trance, especially when Michael immediately turns back to him, eyes wide and questioning, head at a halfway tilt.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, which is not what Ashton had expected him to ask, and catches him by surprise, enough that he actually says what he’s thinking, though he shouldn’t, though it’s a dangerous train of thought, though it’s probably a mistake because Ashton still doesn’t really believe in the magical thirty-six (and a half) questions.

“I want to kiss you,” he tells Michael, holding unconsciously tighter to Michael’s hand.

Michael exhales, a sigh of…maybe relief. “Oh, thank God.” And he leans in, freeing his hand from Ashton’s grasp to put both palms against Ashton’s cheeks, fingers curling around the back of his head, and kisses him.

The bubbling pressure in Ashton’s chest feels light and airy all of a sudden. Ashton reaches for Michael, anything to get his hands on him, and settles an unsteady hold on Michael’s shoulders just to anchor them in place. The angle’s awful — they’re both still sitting on the floor — but the kiss feels like coming home, and it makes more sense to Ashton than most of the other things in his life. Michael is uncharacteristically gentle with him (Ashton’s seen him kiss other people, knows how rough and tumble he can be), and after a moment, not long enough, he breaks away, resting his forehead against Ashton’s. Ashton’s whole face feels too warm.

“Believe me now?” Michael teases. It takes Ashton a second to understand what he’s talking about.

“I’m not in love with you,” he says, but the way his heart sinks at that, and the way Michael flinches backwards, immediately disprove that statement. “Okay, I might be, but not because of the questions.”

Michael smiles, which turns into something of a smirk, but without losing any of its initial gentleness. “Well, it worked for me.”

Ashton finds that difficult to believe. “You can’t be in love with me now just because you know more about me.”

“Well, I already liked you a whole fucking lot,” Michael says easily.

Ashton does a double-take. “You did?”

Michael sighs. “Oh, Ashton. You’d be the worst if you weren’t the best.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Ashton says, although he fails to bite back a smile. “So now you’re in love with me?”

“I’d be an idiot not to be.” Michael pushes himself to his feet and then holds out a hand for Ashton to do the same. He doesn’t step backwards when Ashton rises, leaving virtually no space between them. “I want to kiss you again.”

“You can kiss me as many times as you want,” Ashton says breathlessly, and Michael does.

[colbybrocksmolder]

A Video To My Future Wife - Colby Brock x Reader

Colby set the camera up, taking a minute to gather his thoughts.

“Hey guys, as you can tell by the title, this isn’t a normal video. Remember a few years ago when Sam and I made videos for each other to look back on when we’re older? Well this is another one of those. Kind of. But today, I’m going to make this for you. And for Y/n. The love of my life. The most beautiful human I’ve ever met, both inside and out.”

Colby ducked his head, smiling at how giddy he was to finally share you with the world. “A lot of you are very confused right now, I know. And I’m sorry. I’ve kept this part of my life off of YouTube for well over a year now and honestly? I don’t regret it one bit. It’s been the happiest year of my life so far. I know in my heart she’ll continue to make me my happiest self until literally one of us ceases to exist on this earth. I hope I die first because I don’t want to think about a life without her.”

Colby sighed, looking past the camera for a moment before cracking a smile. “If Y/n were home right now, she’d scold me for being so morbid. She doesn’t like when I talk about dying. She’d pull me into her arms, start listing reasons why it’s a waste of life to think about death. On my more stubborn emo days, she clings to me like a koala. Not a word of a lie. She’ll wrap her arms and legs around me and just talk. She once made it to like reason #56 that she thought I was adorable before I finally agreed to shower and leave the apartment. There’s no escaping the infectious joy she has inside her. I have yet to meet a single person who isn’t happier around her. I know a lot of you guys freak out whenever you hear dating rumors about me or see me with a female friend, but guys...you’re going to fucking love Y/n. So much. A handful of you guys already know her and I want to specifically thank you for keeping our secret. I’m just waiting for the photos you guys took with us to spread like wildfire now that it’s out in the open.”

Colby smiled, pulling out his phone to look at a picture the two of you had taken with a group of fans. “I’ll put this picture up on the screen so you can actually see it, but do you see this goober right here in the skeleton onesie? That’s y/n. You’re probably wondering why we’re all in our pajamas with a bunch of fans…Well that’s just a tiny glimpse into how kindhearted, selfless, and loving this girl is. We met a family one day while we were out. The two daughters and their friends happened to be fans of Sam and I. While I sat and talked to the girls for a minute, Y/n was sitting talking to their mom. Turns out these two girls had been through quite a rough year. The mom said that YouTube was what really kept them going. Y/n exchanged numbers with the mom and over the next few months kept in touch with the two girls. When the older sister’s birthday rolled around, Y/n had an idea. She talked with the mom and set up a little surprise movie night so that we could celebrate with the girls and their friends we had met with them. Her and Kat went out and got these goofy onesies for everyone, loads of snacks, games... Sam, Kat, Y/n, and I showed up and surprised them. It was awesome. Better than any Trap House party we’ve ever thrown.” Colby laughed.

Colby stared at the picture for a few seconds before locking his phone and putting it back in his pocket. “At this point, I already thought that I loved her. I was already convinced I had found my forever…but seeing her take time out of her insane schedule to go above and beyond to love on two random fans…When I tell you I was in awe of her, I mean it. I was a blushing, sweaty palmed, nervous boy. All night. The girl’s dad even pulled me to the side to whisper a ‘you’ve got it bad, kid’ to me.” Colby’s cheeks blushed with a hint of pink.

“And honestly? I have no fucking clue why she puts up with me.” Colby laughed. “I’m indecisive and clingy and moody. I can’t keep a schedule to save my life. I always need to be in control or I’m anxious or bail. And I never ever ever put my shoes away. I can’t tell you how many times Y/n has tripped trying to leave our kitchen because even though she’s asked me 200 times not to, I still leave my shoes right in the middle of the walkway. Yet every single day I find a new little note that she’s left me. Sometimes two or three on bad days. Actually, you know what? Be right back…”

Colby moved across the room to grab a photo-box full of papers. “Look at these.” He said, tipping the box to show you how full it was. He started reading some of them off. “Seeing you smile is my favorite way to start my day” “Your friends love you” “Your laughter is contagious” “You bring people joy” “Your ass looked great in those jeans last night” He laughed at that one, reading out one last note. “Strip away all of your fame and money and looks and what do you have left? The most accepting, honest, encouraging, and loving heart I’ve ever had the privilege of holding.” He stared at the piece of paper for a second before shrugging his shoulders and staring off into the other room. “Like I said, I have no clue what I did to deserve her.”

He moved to put the box back where he got it from and sat back down on the bed. “I know that a lot of you don’t like change. I know she’s going to get hate comments about loads of shit that either isn’t true or doesn’t matter. But do you want to know the truth? Neither of us care.” He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “We aren’t worried. We’re happy. And God does it feel good to say that because throughout my YouTube career, the amount of times I’ve been able to say that with a straight face are far and few between. Something to know before you start writing that shitty hateful comment…Y/n is never ever going to reply to you with hate. It doesn’t matter how mean you are to her. It’s just not in her. She’s too loving. She’ll probably apologize that you feel the way you feel and then treat you with perfect kindness. She goes out of her way to build people up. So, remember that before you’re too quick to try and tear her down.”

Colby heard the apartment door open and made a wide eyed ‘oh shit’ face at the camera. “Hey, baby! Are you home?”

“In here!” Colby called.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She apologized, seeing that she had interrupted him filming.

“Don’t worry.” Colby smiled up at her, reaching his arms out to invite her to sit on his lap for a moment. “I’ll just edit it out. What’s up?”

“This girl just moved in right above us and I want to go help her get settled. Her friend bailed on her and we have that bottle of red wine we’re never going to drink. Do you mind if I grab some snacks and the wine and go help her?” She asked, pressing a kiss to Colby’s cheek.

“Of course, I don’t mind, babe.” He slipped his arms tighter around her and kissed her lips. “I’ll text you when I’m done to see if you guys need help with anything heavy.”

“You’re too good to me.” She said, sliding off of his lap.

“I love you!” Colby called out after her, hearing her pack a bag full of snacks and grab the wine.

“I love you more!” he heard her call back. The apartment door closing behind her.

“I’m definitely not editing any of that out.” Colby laughed, looking back at the camera. “But do you see what I mean? That was a perfect example. One of like a thousand I could share. She so effortlessly walks into people’s lives and does whatever she can to help them.”

“I just realized you guys have no clue how we met.” Colby shook his head, laughing to himself. “So, you know those overnight videos we do with TFIL? Well we were once again being complete idiots and trying to sneak into this massive indoor sports arcade type place. Everyone had hidden except for me and I was about to get caught. I had climbed over this massive basketball free-throw cage thing and I was going to drop down behind it when the manager of the arcade started walking towards his office…right next to where I was hanging. This girl and I made eye contact and she recognized who I was. She obviously knew what I was up to. She started to laugh but quickly realized I was about to get caught. When the Manager went to step by her, she ‘stumbled’ into him and pretended to faint. Throwing in an ‘I don’t feel good’ right before hitting the ground for good measure. Her distraction gave me enough time to drop down behind the machine. When I peeked through the bars, I saw her ‘wake up’ and ask the manager if he could show here where the ski ball was like nothing had happened.” Colby snorted rolling his eyes. “She wasn’t the best actress on the planet, but she sure as hell had my attention. I spent the whole night annoying the rest of the guys trying to figure out how to find her and thank her. Talk to her. Turns out, it was easier than I thought. When we finally left at like 5 am, there was a little torn piece of paper tucked under my windshield wiper that said ‘you’re welcome’ and her phone number. Needless to say, I didn’t go to bed. I ended up meeting her at a diner where we talked so long, we ate both breakfast and lunch before parting ways. I’m usually a listener, you know? I know people see me in videos and think I’m crazy and loud 24/7, but I’m honestly usually the shy quiet kid sitting in the corner, people watching, and hoping no one notices me. But when I sat in that diner…I couldn’t shut up. It’s like she was pulling words out of me. I felt very…comfortable.”

Colby looked to be thinking about something for a moment, a soft smile on his face. “This video is partially for her and partially for you guys. I wanted to be able to introduce her before she just randomly started showing up in pictures or in videos. I didn’t want rumors about me ‘maybe’ dating her. I kind of wanted to spill my guts and talk about her to you guys because she’s the most important person in my life. And she doesn’t let me dote on her much, so I figured this was a good way to get it all out” he couldn’t help but smile. “I know you guys are going to love her. I know it. And I know she already loves all of you. It’s going to take her some time to get used to all of the attention, but I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to share her with you.”

“Y/n.” He faced the camera, speaking directly to her. “It would be impossible to list all of the things you’ve changed in my life. I know it sounds sappy as shit, but when poets say weird stuff like ‘the trees just looked different after meeting her’ I get it, now. It makes total sense to me. It’s like you reached down deep to the worst parts of me, shined a light on them, and loved me anyways…and I will never be able to actually explain how much I love you…But I will spend the rest of my life trying.”

[lgcseojin]

@lgcjueun

jueun realizes it’s a little–a lot–sad thinking about how normal couples would spend their birthdays together in the same place, most likely side by side. but she and seojin weren’t - normal that is, in the sense that they were two regular citizens of seoul and not a newly debuted idol and member of a band.

but the reality of it is that they are which means it’s not out of the ordinary for them to spend more time apart than with each other. it sucks, yeah, but this is what they wanted and what they’ve been working hard for so… they manage. they have to if they wanted to make their relationship work in some way.

it’s still sad though, there’s no doubt about that. she knows it; seojin knows it. but it’s pointless to keep saying that when they’re both well aware. what’s more important is conveying how they feel and making the most out of what they can which is why this year, jueun plans something different for her boyfriend’s birthday.

she’s somehow found some free time to carry out her ‘surprise’ and although it’s only half a day of it, she again, makes the most out of it that she can. with her parent’s permission, she takes over one of the private rooms they have in their cafe and sets up everything: streamers hanging from a wall to form a sparkly background, big letter balloons hung up spelling out seojin’s name, more balloons on either side of those balloons, and to finish it all off, a birthday cake in the center of table right in front of the display.

after making sure the entire scene is visible in the frame of her phone camera (tilted horizontally, of course, so everything can be seen clearly), she presses the record button and rushes to stand behind the table and cake, facing the lens with a little party hat on top of her head.

“hi, dummy,” jueun starts the video off with, waving at the camera with a cheeky grin on her face. “i know we can’t spend your birthday together this year but i still wanted to celebrate so… ta da!” she raises her arms to gesture at all the decorations around her. “since you can’t see this in person, i’m sending you this video instead.”

then, she picks up the small cake she had purchased earlier that day, a single, lit candle stuck into the middle of it and begins singing the ‘happy birthday’ song.

“happy birthday dear seojin~ happy birthday to you!”

jueun looks up from the cake and into the lens with the brightest smile possible and holds it out like seojin can blow it out himself. obviously he can’t so she does it instead after a few moments (to let him make a wish if he wanted to) before setting it back on the table and cheering.

“it’s hard for us to really talk these days, or like… in general, isn’t it?” she chuckles, referring to their bad habit of not verbalizing their true feelings and thoughts. however for seojin, and the occasion, she could try harder to say what’s honestly on her mind. “but since its a special day–and don’t try to tell yourself it isn’t!–i just want you to know that i’m glad you were born and that you came into my life. we obviously had our troubles and issues and we’re still working through them to this day but i’m happier now that we’re together again and i hope you are too! if not, i’ll punch you when you get back,” she adds on jokingly, a pout on her face to match. she really couldn’t pass up an opportunity to tease him.

“really though… thank you for existing, and thank you for loving me even after all these years. i love you too, possibly more than i could ever express, and i hope we can stay together for a long time!”

jueun ends the video with another wave and right as the recording looks like it’s about to stop, she leans in and pretends to kiss the screen in a spur of the moment. she doesn’t literally do it but the thought is there and although she wants to delete it right away once she reviews the clip because it’s so freaking embarrassing, she sends it to seojin’s number without a second glance - because she knows if she did give herself a chance to re-consider, she might not have sent it at all.

♡ sent to: big idiot 💕     ↝ [video attached]     ↝ happy birthday ❤️ 

--

Seojin never expected anything on his birthday. He vehemently insisted no one spend money on him or “waste their time”. In spite of the confidence he boisterously wore on his sleeve, within him hid a child with diminished self-worth. He felt himself unworthy of any praise or well-wishes from the people in his life. Whether they considered him otherwise proved irrelevant to him. Being away on tour with the other band trainees gave him something of an excuse to avoid the constant barrage of in person wishes and boxes being shoved into his hands. He had no use for material objects like nice jewelry or instrument accessories from people who had obvious little knowledge of them.

By the time he arrived back in his room, his emotional energy hit rock bottom. Too much thinking, too much holding back the true negativity brewing within him. He wanted so badly to scream into his pillow. Instead, he directed his immediate attention to his phone. Unusual behavior for a young man who typically swore himself off of being overly attached to it. It was all he could think of. His eyes lingered over the missed phone calls from the same number, the voice mail, the singular time he actually picked up. His finger hovered over the block button, hesitating for the first time in his life.

Another notification interrupted him from doing so. It seemed to be the theme of the day.

Seojin’s expression immediately brightened seeing the contact name. Someone he knew. Someone he loved wholeheartedly and knew for certain he did. He pressed the video as if second nature. It wasn’t far off from their typical routine; sending voice and video messages back and forth in their time away from each other, but this one was ... different. Staged.

His gaze flickered over Jueun’s surroundings first. Birthday decorations lined the walls behind her, his name spelled out in balloons. However, she caught every bit of lighting better than the flashy bells and whistles she spent time preparing. Before she could even utter a word, an overwhelming stinging sensation overcame Seojin’s eyes and obscured any modicum of vision he had left. All he had the strength to focus on was her voice coming in through his headphones.

The darkness in his room became a blessing as the tears flooded down his cheeks like a cascading waterfall. It was not something that would normally bring him to such a state. He would mentally make an excuse. That day had been far from easy on his heart. How was he meant to cope with the cacophony of emotions barraging him so relentlessly?

He replayed the video a few more times, his smile grew and yet his tears did as well. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Seojin pressed record. It didn’t matter if his eyes and cheeks were red. Jueun happened to be one of the few witnesses of him at his lowest points. There was no use in holding back with her.

At first he shyly concealed his face, allowing his voice to do most of the work. ( In a hushed tone, of course. ) “I got the video. It was really, um... nice.” It was obvious he was having difficulty being sincere again with his spoken words. He didn’t want to come across too cheesy, too weak. Finally, he moved the camera closer to his face so she could see that awkward, lopsided smile of his. “I didn’t think you’d do all of that for... well, me. I saved it. And watched it a lot. I made sure to make a wish on the candle even though you blew it out. Not telling you what it is though, obviously. Otherwise it won’t come true.” If only he had the guts to tell her things like this in person. The things he wrote to her in his letter in person. Would he be considered a better boyfriend if he managed to do that?

“I’m so ready to come back and see you. Fucking hell you know I’m gonna use the free day so we can see each other. I want to go on an actual date with you.” How long had they been together now? By this time last year he was still questioning why she forgave him for his past transgressions. “Mark my words! New years will be something. To make up for all the time we’ve been losing. Promise.” He held his pinky up to the camera and smiled. A full one this time.

“I love you, too.”

↻  JUEUN 🐞

[ video attached ] thanks

[doctordiscord123]

The Lonely City: Chapter 1

I don’t have much rn even though I’ve been working on it a good chunk of the day, but

A simple tailor musters up the courage to leave her home.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Commission Info | Buy me a ko-fi

Warnings: None Characters: The Tailor (OC) Pairings: None Words Count: 672 words

The forest stretched as far as the eye could see.

An ocean of tall trunks that reached for the clouds, a sea of leaves and foliage, with untold depths and undiscovered creatures.

The stories that surrounded that forest made even the bravest of warriors quake with fear at the prospect of venturing too deep inside. Stories of monsters and demons, of unimaginable horrors, of death around every corner. Stories that said those who enter…never come back out.

There was a city embedded in the forest, surrounded on all sides, unable to expand in fear of the fae and spirits that were said to haunt the miles of darkness beneath the trees. Slowly, the city had begun to grow over populated, pushing against the borders of the forest. Poverty and misery held a firm grip on the isolated kingdom. Not even the nobles and royals who lived in the single small, but tall, castle in the middle were free from the plague of despair. It was a poor kingdom. A lonely kingdom. With no escape but death in every direction.

And she was tired of it.

She wasn’t anyone special. A lonely tailor, who lived at the bottom of her building. With no way to expand outward, the city had gone up, with rickety towers that swayed in the wind, made of anything but the wood they were so afraid to chop down, and connect by even more precarious bridges. There was a status, the higher up you lived. A status to how close to the castle you were.

And she, a poor tailor, living among the muddy streets, at the edge of the city, was quite literally at the bottom of the social hierarchy.

Every day, as she worked, she stared out her window. Past the disgusting streets, the people hurrying by as they glanced nervously at the forest. She wasn’t nervous. She was fascinated, staring with a longing at the dark. At night, she could see little lights flitting among the trees. If she went outside, and stood close enough…she could hear tiny musical laughter. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up straight, but…a sense of warmth washed over her as well. The laughter seemed to tug her closer, tempting her to step deeper into the forest. But as much as she wasn’t scared…the stories played in the back of her mind, and she always hesitated, always returned to her little apartment.

Despite the stories and the warnings that haunted her, she wanted to venture into the forest. She wanted to see for herself, see what was really in the depths of the trees. If she found her grave, so be it. Better to die among nature and in the sun than at buried in the filth of an overcrowded city. So, she spent months sewing her own clothes to take with her, unwilling to travel someplace new in the dirty rags she wore. She spent every cent she earned on new fabrics, sometimes going days without the ability to afford food in lieu of her passion. She hardly noticed the bite of hunger, as she wove together a bag to carry her few precious belongings. She would escape this city doomed to fall, as soon as she was done. She would escape in the night, into the forest, into the unknown. And though she starved, though even her calloused fingers began to grow numb, she’d been happier than she had been in a long time, with a new horizon in the distance, and she could see the murky dawn becoming a beautiful sunrise.

She finished her new clothes, and packed her bag.

She saved her money, to buy a little extra food to bring with her.

And – at long last – the night came where she shouldered her bag, and left her home, left the only world she knew, behind.

She stood on the edge of the forest, staring into its dark depths, at the mesmerizing lights, listening to the light, beautiful laughter, and marched inside.