#I don’t expect to need that tag too often lol but I will be posting scorpions if I ever find those

[arachnophanatic]

Not a spider! An Arachnid in the order Solifugae, also called “camel spiders.”

The “jaws” aren’t fangs like spiders would have, but rather two strong vertical toothed pincers (yikes). After finding that out, I had to go get another look at it:

NEAT

[drysdalesworld]

puppy love

luke hughes x fem!reader

youruser just posted!

liked by yourbestie, userone, and more

youruser: on today’s adventure with bandit and y/n, we almost got run over by a (nearly blind) 6’2 blond who didn’t see us crossing the street (i was wearing a bright pink shirt) & are forever scarred from the experience. tho, he apologized with mcdonalds & gave bandit all the kisses in hopes of forgiveness (he forgave him 🙄 – my villain origin story fr). anywho, glad we survived & came out unscathed 💪

( loading comments ! )

yourbestie: you gave me a literal heart attack when you called me saying you almost died. i was nearly ready to run to your aid bbg 😪

userone: babes, you let him into your home?? mans NEARLY killed you

youruser: he’s very charismatic

youruser: & persuasive

usertwo: i love hearing about y/n and bandit’s daily adventures. it’s like the highlight of my day fr

markestapa: hearing about this the minute it happened is truly an experience i will never forget

edwards73: i legit thought he was crying lol

rutgermcgroarty: “i just almost hit a pretty girl and her puppy. im legit the worst person to ever walk this earth!”

dylanduke25: hearing her cuss him out in the background is my roman empire fr

markestapa: she said some very colorful words to our boy 😂

userthree: all these umich boys in y/n’s comments & yet none of them are exposing who it is 😭

userfour: fr like i need to know❗️❗️

edwards73: he told me to tell you that he will buy you all the mcdonalds you want if you forgive him

youruser: i’ll think it about it

markestapa: he’s literally begging on his knees

userfive: damn whoever it is, they’re exposing him lol

yoursibling: of course this happens to you smh

yourbestie2: bandits new dad??? 👀

lhughes_06 just posted!

liked by seamuscasey26, _quinnhughes, and more

lhughes_06: i’ve been promoted to dog walker 🐕👨‍🦯

tagged: youruser

( loading comments! )

youruser: the best dog walker there is!

luca.fantilli: bandit literally dragged him down the street

dylanduke25: & he’s like a fifteen pound dog. that dog’s stronger than luke

userone: ngl i was expecting a bigger reveal

_quinnhughes: at least he’s learning some responsibility

usertwo: the second pic ❤️❤️❤️

userthree: i wonder how luke truly did not see y/n when she was crossing the road?? like what was boy doing to NOT see her?? 🤔

youruser: that’s what i’ve been wondering these past few months lhughes_06

lhughes_06: oops??? i told you i didn’t see you cross the street 😫

jackhughes: boy ik you lying since your head practically hits the top of the car roof. you def saw the poor girl 😭 lhughes_06

markestapa: bring bandit over more often please 🙏🤍

userfour: not jack exposing luke in userthree’s comment thread 👀

youruser just posted!

liked by elhughes, adamfantilli, and more

youruser: nearly three years with you and all you had to do was nearly kill me and my dog to get my attention 💓💓

tagged: lhughes_06

( loading comments! )

jackhughes: ahh, puppy love ❤️

lhughes_06: you’re never going to let that go are you? 🫤

youruser: lemme think….🤔

youruser: uh no <3

yourbestie: i better be the maid of honor 💢❗️

edwards73: i cant wait to hear about how they met at their wedding. what a meet cute fr

elhughes: i hope he’s learned his lesson by now! 💛💙

youruser: of course mama hughes! im just giving him a hard time 🤍

userone: if i don’t meet my future partner like this, then i don’t want it ❗️❗️

usertwo: i can’t believe it’s been three years! bandits so big now :(

userthree: ikr! feels like just yesterday i stumbled upon y/n’s post about it

userfour: how the time flies

rutgermcgroarty: i volunteer to be bandit’s sitter during your dates!

seamuscasey26: hey no fair! i called dibs first!

lhughes_06: god i love you

youruser: i love you too lukey 💞

[4dkellysworld]

After deciding 'it is done'

This is more of a manifestation themed post (it's a draft from March when I spontaneously felt like writing it but didn't post it) because I felt like it but I'd appreciate if I didn't get any asks about manifestation* (unless I change my mind later) cos I'll share what I can and there's a lot of material available already! You can see my past post on this topic here. For more posts on it, see @4dbarbie-archive and realisophie's posts here and here and there's also some over at @ndjournal in the experience sharing tag.

*Also because I don't want to send mixed messages to the readers of this blog. I see conscious manifestation as a way to challenge & break limitations and concepts from the mind, not to get things in the world (kinda like Neo learning to bend the spoon in the Matrix if you get me lol). The latter will only pull you deeper into ego and the world, which isn't conducive to self-realization (if that's your goal) if you're focused on satisfying ego and the worldly life. If that makes sense and you resonate and agree with that, then we are on the same page but not everyone is and that's okay too, just do what feels right to you. Just sharing my reasoning :)

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

I've been reading this book called Parallel Universes of Self because I read the author Frederick Dodson had an interesting reality shifting experience. I didn't expect to read info on manifestation but they are pretty much the same. I have a few books of his that I'm skimming through out of curiosity and there's some interesting stuff (I might share some other things later, he doesn't just talk about manifestation, but also consciousness, reality and even non-duality).

I thought I'd share the below excerpt because it's explained really well and might help some others. It's also a nice succinct summary of what Ada and Soph talked about for materialization/manifestation as well. I can remember pretty much 95% of the things I've ever "manifested" were from when I acted the way he described after I had decided "it is done". It's easier to do this for things you don't care about because you just end up forgetting about it entirely and then it shows up and you're like 'oh yeah!! nice'.

In the hours, days and weeks after simply rest in the new viewpoint, rest in the fulfilled reality. This means that you don’t try to “make it happen” because you have already claimed it as real. You don’t affirm, visualize, repeat or wait for it. You don’t hope for it to come in some future. Because you have claimed it as already real you don’t even think about it much either. You don’t ask when, how, where it will show up. Instead you simply do what offers itself to you throughout the day, and this will involve commonplace activities. Daily life continues in a natural manner without neediness or lack. Once in awhile you may want to re-feel the body sense of the chosen reality, and enjoy what you have claimed as true, but often not even that is necessary. Furthermore you needn’t be “acting as if” the desired reality is manifest, for that still implies separation. Simply cease to behave in a way that presupposes that it is not already so. You may refuse to ascribe relevance or importance to any events that seem to contradict your newly chosen reality. From the new viewpoint such events may still exist and come up but they are no longer relevant enough to be reacted to and interacted with. They may be the way things are at the moment, but they are no longer the way you are. The corresponding physical manifestation will appear when you stop needing it, chasing after it, looking for it but are instead willingly and lovingly identified with it…not for the sake of “making it manifest” *, but for the sake of experiencing its joy in the here, now and today. *Because trying to make it happen/manifest reinforces the idea/belief that it isn't

This is the same as what 4dbarbie said about getting ego out of the way or as Lester Levenson said, let go and let God. Just let it happen and stop trying to control the process because the more you try, the more you reinforce the fact that it isn't already so. Basically stop putting in effort once you know it is true, just continue knowing with calm and ease that it is the way you want it. Ada also said here:

If you have thoughts like "I need to say my affirmations", "I need to check my state", you're not living in the end but still desiring. When you're able to look at the thing you desire as being something that was once a dream, but now only a memory - you've entered the state of the wish fulfilled. When desire turns into identity, you know you've succeeded in fulfilling yourself.

Yes we're conditioned to think we need to work hard and put effort to earn things in the world but when it comes to manifesting, this sort of mentality will only sabotage and hinder your success. You can literally just decide you have it and then never look back. This sort of mindset can take a bit of time and practice to get used to because it is not something we're used to but the more you practice, the easier it gets.

Here is an excerpt from an astral projection book (I think it's from The Illusion of Method?) I thought was really apt at describing this too. He's talking about AP but you can apply it to manifesting or pretty much anything as well.

Unless you are masochistic, I ask you to reconsider the painful idea of obsessing about time. Bear in mind that results will come whenever they have to, and counting the minutes won't make the outcome arrive faster. It's best if you just forget about it, and accept that it is something that you can't control. You must be patient—most of the time the desired results arrive immediately after giving up control of time. If you are frustrated and/or are afraid of failure, then it means you believe you are in control—and this translates into the feeling that you are responsible for both positive and negative results. Well then, stop thinking that way! Exempting yourself from responsibility is the best course of action there is. As seen in the previous chapter, those who project on command are the ones who couldn’t care less about AP. But the more you obfuscate yourself, the lesser your chances of success —and trust me, you won’t want to get trapped in that vicious cycle. Astral projection works when you stop worrying about failure because you trust that it will happen, whether you “do” something or not.

It’s the same thing: just in the same way that being hasty for sleep to occur keeps us wakeful and alert, being expectant over the OBE will keep us caged in the physical body. If the mind is constantly thinking about the goal, it can easily enter a state of expectancy* and impatience. In such state, the mind is no longer relaxed because expectancy is a state of unrest. This form of tension is what hinders the outcome—thus, the key to being relaxed (i.e., essentially lacking mental tension) is to forget about the goal entirely. If you don’t have the goal in mind you don’t enter a state of expectancy, and therefore you are free from mental tension. *expectancy is the same energy as trying to make something happen.. reinforcing the idea/belief that it isn't so

So, exempt yourself from responsibility means there's nothing more to do because ego is not in control and can do nothing.

[sohnric]

millennium bug – e. sohn

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: 90s au, twenty-five twenty-one au, brother's best friend au, childhood friends au, fluff, slice of life, coming of age. older brother! sunwoo. essentially just eric being baek yijin. oct-nov scenes inspired by weak hero class 1. no plot just vibes im sorry

warnings: minimal swearing and thats all lol

word count: 19k

a/n: posting a fic for a new fandom is always so scary pls be nice to me deobiblr bc im literally abt to cry. also yes i am calling this a 2521 au bc the plot is so heavily inspired it might just be one. a special thank you goes out to @csenke for dragging me into stanning this group i am enjoying myself 🤞

there are some pros and cons to not having friends growing up. cons: you're always forced to tag along with your brother and his group wherever he goes. pros: his childhood best friend is kind of hot.

JUNE OF 1999

Being Kim Sunwoo’s younger sister is no bed of roses sometimes.

Sure, you get the occasional excitement of having him bring you rollerskating with you down the hill or the ever so rare moments of him defending you in front of your mother when you two have done something wrong (while never saying he was in on the bad act as well, of course), but more than often, you are met with his disgusted looks and insults whenever the two years older boy passes by your room and casually bangs at the door just to spite you.

His snarky looks are especially ones to remember. Maybe it’s because he offers them to you often– much like in this very moment, completely unprovoked, and completely not by your fault.

“But mum–”

“I already told you, Sunwoo,” your mother looks at him with a stern look in her eye, the one that makes chills run down your spine, “you can go if you take Y/N with you.”

“But nobody’s bringing their sister! Mum, come on–”

“Take it or leave it, young man.”

And see, your brother may be 19 years old, but he’s still in need of getting permission to leave the house if it includes an overnight stay. It’s an unspoken rule he always follows, since he’s usually granted the right to leave, but the result of his conversation was different than what he expected this time. And see, you may be just two years younger than him (one year left until you are an adult), but even though your mother is too busy to take care of you and entertain your slowly adultling self on most days because of her highly demanding job, she always makes sure that you don’t stay alone for long, and that’s exactly why (you realize, contrary to your brother) she insists on making you tag along on Sunwoo’s trip to the beach house with his friends.

The male grunts and turns on his heel, not giving your mother another response– and with this, you know she won. And that means you’ll have to pack your bag soon, because you know that there’s no way Sunwoo would miss going to the beach house with his friends– even if it meant making his little sister tag along.

And sure enough, Lee Juyeon’s minivan pulls up into your driveway only a few hours later, and the sound of the honking outside is enough for your older brother to aggressively drag you outside of the house, shutting the door behind you and hollering an angry “Bye mum!” to your mother. Your figure is handled with the least amount of care possible as you’re thrown towards the white van, the door opened and 5 heads already peeking out with expecting eyes, waiting for your brother’s arrival.

“My mum made my stupid sister go with me, so I hope we have space for one more,” Sunwoo huffs as he throws his bag into the trunk, slamming it with more force than was necessary (boy does he know how to throw a scene), an encouraging voice of none other than Juyeon– the driver himself– landing in your ear. 

“Sure, just hop in!”

With that, your feet finally unglue themselves off the ground and bring you into the vehicle. You’re familiar with his friends– since a scenario like this hasn’t happened for the first time and you had to spend your fair time with Sunwoo’s circle growing up, mainly because you never really had many friends yourself. You’re not close with any of them, though, and you’re sure you haven’t seen half of them for ages. 

Lee Juyeon is the responsible one of the group. You’re comfortable with the fact that he’s the driver, since you’re not entirely sure if you’d trust any of the other men in this space behind the wheel (you fear the day your brother gets a driver’s license. You'd bet a million dollars that he’ll die while driving recklessly one day). Next to him on the passenger’s seat is Choi Chanhee, his best friend, carrying a map in his hands and twirling it in all possible directions to get his friend on the right track. In the three-seat behind those two is Ju Haknyeon, Ji Changmin and your brother himself, and in the very back of the whole van, almost in the trunk, you’re sat next to Eric Sohn– your brother’s childhood best friend.

“Hi guys,” you offer a greeting to all of them, settling into the uncomfortable leather seat (that’s peeling off, just by the way), watching as the rest of the men pay you no mind and ignore your voice, falling into a comfortable conversation with each other.

Sighing, because this always happens– your brother gets too annoyed because he has to bring you with him all the time, and you imagine his friends aren’t fond of the fact either– you settle deeper into the seat and cross your hands on your chest, looking outside of the window. You can’t imagine enjoying your trip now, since you feel like you’re a nuisance, a child they have to take care of (yes, it embarrasses you just the tiniest bit, you have to admit. Although, you do enjoy getting out of the house from time to time), and the fact that your feelings were probably more than justified and also true has you pouting, an unsatisfied feeling weighing at your lungs.

“Hi,” a voice resonates from your side, the sight of a smiling Eric peering at you taking you off guard. You didn’t expect anyone to react to your greeting– not so delayed anyway– and the sight of your brother’s best friend carrying on in the conversation with you has you shocked beyond belief. “Excited?”

Finding yourself hum in agreement– how much you are still excited for the pool and for the sun, you’re not really sure– and although you are upset, something about his open and nice demeanor has you visibly relaxing, the sparkles inviting themselves back into your eyes. “I’ve never been to the beach,” you admit, seeing Eric gasp at you in surprise.

“Really?” he asks. “I go every year with my parents.”

“Well,” you hum, “you know how my mother is…” you sigh, chewing on the inside of your cheek. It’s easier to joke about it than to actually let the fact get to you– with your mother being the main news anchor, she is too busy to actually go on trips and form bonds with her own children sometimes. That’s why you spent most of your childhood at Eric’s family’s house in the first place– this is what made you the closest with Sunwoo’s same aged friend. His parents were nice enough to let you stay over and have sleepovers whenever your mum had to leave suddenly and take week-long trips abroad, or have emergency shifts during late evenings. 

Eric hums, sympathizing with you. “Well, at least you get to experience it now!”

“Yeah,” you awkwardly nod, playing with the hem of your jean shorts. It’s the shorts you made yourself by cutting the legs off your favorite pants after you grew out of them and they got too short, and they’re starting to look a little worn-out now. Maybe you should beg your mum to get you some new clothing.

The conversation between the boys grows in volume, doing nothing to help you to relax in the crowded vehicle. You can’t really find a place to fit yourself in and talk, the topics too unfamiliar for you and the feeling of not even being welcome in the discussion sitting heavy on your chest, when a finger bears itself to the flesh of your thigh, making you snap your head around to gape at the source of the contact. Eric looks at you with a boyish grin, sparkles evident in his eyes.

“Wanna see something?” he asks.

“Sure.”

The male digs around his backpack, hands searching through the contents of his bag for only a couple of seconds– since he’s the neat one, contrary to your messy brother– before he takes out a small gadget: a square with a little screen on top, a silver, circular button space sitting big in the very middle of the device. Eric throws the thing into your lap, smiling when you take it into your hands and examine it with curious eyes.

“Have you seen one before? My dad got it for me last week,” he boosts, satisfied with your reaction to it. 

Your mother’s job pays quite well– meaning that you usually have the latest gadgets, the latest trends– but if you’re being honest, you haven’t seen one of these in real life before. Yes, you caught a glimpse of an ad for it in the town center, on one of the big billboards while passing by to get to school in the morning, so you know that it’s an MP3 player, but still; this was your first time touching one and examining it in real life. 

“How does it work?” you ask, watching as the boy scoots from his seat to the middle one, so he is now sitting directly next to you, before he takes out wired headphones from the first department of his backpack and turns the little square over in his hands, finding where the jack goes.

“You put those in,” he says, plugging in the headphones, “and then you press this…” he explains, taking the device out of your hand and pushing on the power button for a few seconds, “and then it should play.”

Watching him with expecting eyes, the boy finally puts the MP3 player back into your hold. Then, his fingers swiftly put the respective earphones into your ears– like you’d do to a little kid that has no idea how they work, making you a little flushed at the action– and after that, you’re left with the sound of an unfamiliar song playing in your ears, making the sound of the chatter in the van completely tune out. Eric keeps on watching you, a sense of pride in his eyes as you nod at him, all excited with the new explory, before he takes one of the earphones out of your ear, grinning.

“Cool, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “The song is good,” you dumbly say, watching as the boy next to you pridefully nods at the compliment, resting his back against the car seat. 

“It’s the H.O.T album. My dad says they’re good,” he mumbles, moving the headphone he took from you and placing it into his ear, making you nod at him in acknowledgement. The action has your insides bubble with disappointment, thinking that the fun is over as you reach for the other earphone as well, offering it to the male.

Eric looks at you with a shocked pout, shaking his head. “No, we can share!” he says, pointing towards your ear. “If you want, of course.”

The action has you smiling, a shy nod escaping out of you as you reach and put the earphone back into your ear, letting yourself fall deeper into the car seat, listening to the song from Eric’s MP3 player. You’re grateful for his presence– he didn’t have to keep up a conversation with you. He could ignore you, just like the rest of his friend group always has. Maybe it was something about the two of you growing up together that always made the boy at least a bit more affectionate towards you than the rest.

You spend the car ride to the beach house with Eric leaning on your side, listening to music and his occasional blabbering about how his previous days went. 

Somehow, you're glad the seat beside him was the only vacant one when you arrived to the vehicle.

YOUR SEVENTH BIRTHDAY, 1989

You don't quite remember when you met Eric for the first time, if you’re being completely honest. The first memory you have of him is of your seventh birthday party, although you’re almost certain the boy’s been present at some point of your life before– at one point, you think you saw a picture of him and Sunwoo, two chubby toddlers, watching you as you laid on a blanket on the ground somewhere in your photo album. As far as you’re concerned, he may as well have been there when your mother brought you back from the hospital– although you think he must have been too young for that back then.

The first memory you have of Eric Sohn is the day you turned seven– a gloomy, sad day that in the moment, you prayed you wouldn’t have to remember in the first place.

It was already established that while your brother is the social butterfly, you don’t have a big friend group. Actually, you could count the number of your friends on one hand, and since the amount wasn’t as big, your mother allowed you to invite them all over to your house to celebrate your birthday with you. 

She baked a cake, she decorated the living room, hell, she even took a day off from work– something you deemed special, for it doesn’t happen often– and as you sat on the floor of your living room, the cake standing proud on the small coffee table, waiting for your friends to arrive, you hummed a song under your breath, the clock slowly passing the time you agreed for them to come over and celebrate.

At first, you didn’t mind it– everybody gets late sometimes, it’s okay. It was just a birthday party, and you had a lot of time. Not everything had to be set on schedule.

But the closer the clock moved to being one hour, than two after the time your friends were supposed to come, you grew worried. Your mother’s nervous pacing around the living room and her heavy sighs as she sat next to you on the floor, smiling at you in what you can only explain as sad way made you more and more anxious about the fact that you only had three friends, but all three of them seemed to not care enough to come celebrate your birthday with you. And as your mother finally took the final bow in the form of a soft hand on your inner thigh, her tone gentle as she called your name– “Y/N, I think we should light the candles,” you began to tear up.

You were supposed to eat the cake with your friends. You were supposed to hear them sing the birthday song to you. You were supposed to turn on the radio and dance around with your classmates, eat the sweets and unwrap the cheap, but heartfelt gifts they brought along with them to celebrate your birthday. 

But none of these scenarios were happening, and you felt incredibly, incredibly lonely and sad. Forgotten, if you will. Not cared for, definitely.

Hiding your face into your hands, you started to cry. This disappointment was too big for your small heart to take, and you no longer cared about the cake, the candles, the seaweed soup your mother cooked for you to celebrate, the gifts, or the party. All you wanted to do was hide in your room and never come out– something about the whole situation felt deeply embarrassing, and to this day, the moment before the whole day turned around still makes you feel a bit ashamed of yourself. 

Too busy crying, you didn’t notice your older brother watching you with big bambi eyes, a worried glance sent your way each time your sobs grew louder and louder. And maybe the boy only wanted to taste the cake (he’s been bugging your mum about it since the very morning, but he was always sent off with a scolding look telling him that he’ll get a slice when everyone arrives), but no matter what his true intentions were, his actions still managed to pull your seventh birthday party together in a way you never imagined.

The sound of the front door faintly resonated in your brain somewhere in the middle of your aimless sobbing, but you paid it no mind, thinking it was just Sunwoo going out to the yard to kick the ball. See, your older brother had never really known what to do when you cried growing up– it didn’t matter if he was the reason for your tears or if anyone else was. If he was the reason for your emotional outbursts, he tried to shut you up with his palm and get you to stop crying before his mother found out and gave him a scolding, but if someone else was, the small boy sometimes turned angry at the source. Kicking his classmate that once made a snarky comment about you and made you tear up or punching his friend when he was too harsh with you was all he knew to do in these situations, so he wasn’t the one to comfort you with words or hugs. It was only natural for him to escape in this situation.

You were brought to a state of shock and surprise when a hand landed on your shoulder, a familiar voice breaking you from your emotional turmoil.

“Why are you crying? We have to eat the cake!” you heard, your big, sad eyes meeting the small figure of the boy living next door, your brother nervously stepping from one side to the other right behind his best friend. “Can you light the candles, Mrs?” Eric politely asked your mum, pointing towards the cake waiting sadly at the coffee table, the figure of your mother leaving your side only shortly to get the matches from the kitchen and illuminate your face with the small flames.

Confusion mirrored your features as you watched your brother and his best friend sing the birthday song to you while your mum lit your candles, both boys clapping and dancing around, acting silly just to get a laugh from you. You didn't know how Eric got there, but you guessed there are some good sides to having him as your neighbor. The energetic boy did his best to brighten up your mood a bit, and when you blew out the candle, making a wish, Sunwoo even went as far as smashing your face into the cake to bring in the full birthday authenticity.

That got him a slap to the back of his head from your mother, as well as made you stand up from your position– no longer making you look like a disappointed bulk of pity– and chase him around the room, icing falling off your nose to the laminated floor. You got your revenge and smeared the chocolate all over his forehead (he let you chase him down only because it was your birthday and he really, really hated to see his sister cry, but he won’t ever tell you that) and as the three of you sat back down to the floor, watching your mother slice the cake and offer it to you on small white plates, you realized you suddenly weren't as sad anymore.

“What did you wish for?” Eric asked you, mouth full of cake and face messy with chocolate.

“I can’t tell you,” you hummed, eyebrows furrowed. “Then it won’t come true.”

“You probably wished for that doll you saw in the store the other day,” Sunwoo snickered as he swallowed, having you glare at him and send a sharp kick to his shin, unwatched by your mother (thankfully), as the boy fought you back, having no mercy.

Music suddenly filled the room as Eric stood up and put the radio on, his 9 year old brain smart enough to know how the device worked, his small figure dancing away to the songs playing on the single radio station you could play without carefully sorting out the antenna so it faced the north, and truly, you didn’t know how it happened, but it had you standing up and dancing around, exactly how you'd imagined doing with your friends from school.

The day wasn’t ruined– quite the opposite, really. It was one of your favorite birthday parties, and ever since then, Eric was invited to every single one you had after. And while Sunwoo may act like he doesn’t hate anything more in this world than having a younger sister, every time you feel like a burden to him, you remember this very afternoon.

You will never tell anyone what you wished for that day– but just to let everyone in on the secret, 

it was to somehow, just like Sunwoo, find someone like Eric for yourself as well. 

JUNE OF 1999

Standing at the side of the pool, eyes squinting from the inevitable force of the sun, you’re starting to regret your decision of coming along just a little. See, you usually don’t protest whenever Sunwoo aggressively drags you around and brings you everywhere he’s supposed to, because even though you love to see your brother angry (especially when you’re the reason behind the emotion), you’d also hate to see him miss out, but now, as the scorching hot sun is having no mercy on every exposed inch of skin– and believe me, there’s a lot of it, since you’re wearing your swimming trunks– and the sweat on your forehead is no longer culminating in beads, but rolling painfully slowly down your forehead, you do admit you’d be a little bit happier in the shade of your little room than here, watching the guys play volleyball in the comfort of the freezing cold pool.

And as the only female around the house, you settle with the patriarchy and bring out a small folding chair and a camping table alongside with a big, sharp knife, struggling to hoist up the giant watermelon you got in a grocery store on your way to the beach house, with the intention of cutting it and serving it to the guys later. Who knows, maybe they’ll like you a little more after that. 

The knife sinks into the thick green skin of the watermelon easily, and so as you accompany yourself with the excited (and not so excited screams coming from the losing side of the game– mainly your brother himself), you cut up the fruit into halves, then quarters, and as you stare at the moon crescents settled on the camping table, you decide to play nice and cut up the fruit into smaller triangles as well, to really get on everyone’s good side.

The yearning for male validation awakes in a woman pretty early on in life. It’s an inevitable misfortune.

“Told you Sunwoo’s all talk but no game!” you hear Haknyeon yell out as the game seemingly ends, the younger boy lunging at him in the pool, fighting him for the truthful words. Glancing at the commotion, you notice the guys slowly getting out of the pool, making you heave out in victory– you’re finally gonna have your turn in the pool. Well, if they don’t decide to occupy it again before you even get a chance to get in.

“Y/N! You cut up the watermelon?” Eric asks a very obvious question, walking up to you with beads of water all over his half-naked body. His dark hair is damply sitting against his forehead, making him look like a wet puppy, but as the male gets closer to you, he drags his palm through the locks and pushes them back, revealing his forehead– a sight sweet to your eyes, but you refuse to pay it much attention in the heat of the moment. It’s just the sun making you delirious as the idea of finding him attractive flashes through your brain, that’s all. 

“I did! Take one,” you smile, watching as the rest of the guys walk over to your little stand– while also obnoxiously swatting out water out of their hair like dogs, refusing to use towels like normal people– and finally, there it comes: appreciative smiles appear on their faces as they each take a piece, biting down on the fruit with delighted sighs.

Sunwoo walks up to you with a surprised look on his face, sighing as he messes with your hair. “If I knew you’d be our servant, I wouldn’t have even minded you going in the first place.”

“You do something nice for people and they jump on the chance to exploit you,” you hum, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s just like you, Kim Sunwoo.”

“No, that’s just me having older brother privileges.”

“I hope you choke on that, you know,” you bite at him, pointing towards the piece of sweet watermelon in his hands, the smile on his face turning bitter. There’s a satisfied look on your face when your brother does, indeed, choke on a watermelon seed a few seconds later– and they say dreams don’t come true.

“You didn’t have to,” you hear Eric speak up from the other side, your head turning to face the male, his features appreciative and warm. “Thank you,” he beams. There’s redness on the tip of his nose and his forehead, signaling his quickly approaching sunburn, and you can’t help but laugh out at his clueless, Rudolph the red nosed reindeer self. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows at you in question.

“Nothing,” you peep, “you just look like you forgot to use sunscreen,” you mumble, watching as the male gasps and touches his face, a horrified expression overtaking him when the skin under his fingertips burns to the touch. 

“I didn’t forget! It must have rubbed off in the pool,” he mourns, “I must look stupid!” 

“Only a little,” you tease, a grin overtaking your features. See, there’s something about the fact that you’ve known Eric for the entirety of your whole life that makes you more prone to teasing him– you’re familiar with your dynamics and just how far you can go, so his next actions startle you just the tiniest bit as the male looks sternly at you, throwing the half-eaten watermelon slice to the camping table. You thought you had the risks calculated– apparently, you didn't.

“What did you say?”

Examining his features, seeing no signs of anger– just the stoic, fakely-offended face of your brother’s childhood best friend– you shrug. “That you look a bit stupid with your face like that.”

“Oh, okay,” he nods, “you’re going down for that.”

“What do you mea–”

Your words are cut short when the male lunges at you, his arms enveloping your thighs and holding you up. The contact of his cold skin from the pool and your heated figure makes goosebumps appear all over your body, your hands instinctively reaching around him to support yourself as he walks closer to the pool– his intentions are suddenly painfully clear and you start to panic. 

“This will teach you to respect your elders,” Eric huffs, the turquoise surface of the water slowly coming into your point of view.

“Stop! Stop-stop-stop,” you squirm, kicking your feet and trying to take down the predator, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, alright?”

The male takes a halt for a split second– making you foolishly believe he’ll let you off– before he breaks out into a devilish grin and continues to walk to the edge of the pool. “Too late.”

“Eric!” you scream, the volume of your voice resonating through the whole beach, your heart thumping wild against your ribcage with the awaiting process. You’re not even sure what you’re scared of anymore– you can swim and you bet the water will feel nice against the scorching sun– but still, you’re absolutely terrified as the male has no mercy on you, carrying you steadily towards the water. “At least let me tie my hair first! You can dump me in after, I promise,” you mourn, trying to buy yourself more time.

“Alright,” he nods, waiting at the very edge of the pool, leaving you to take the purple scrunchie off your wrist and gather your hair together, preparing to tie it into a bun so it doesn’t get in your way when you’re in the pool. The hair tie is just at the tips of your fingertips, the first loop over the hair ready to be done, when a scream cuts out of your throat.

The feeling of falling suddenly overtakes your body, leaving you no time to prepare yourself for the impact of the cold water against your skin and all up in your nose, since you didn’t pluck it when you were dumped into the pool. The fall only lasts a split second until you’re below the water, the force of it resonating in your ears, and when you finally act on your instincts and stand up in the pool (it wasn’t even that deep in the first place, only reaching to your upper stomach), you cough out all the water and pray to gods you don’t throw up chlorine into the freshly cleaned pool. After you’re done catching your breath and getting oxygen into your lungs again, you do your best at getting all the hair out of your face. 

There is laughter landing into your ears as soon as you manage to get all the water out of them by leaning your head to the side and violently slapping each one, and when your eyes look up, you see an amused Eric Sohn bending over in his waist at your disheveled appearance. 

Grunting and pointing a finger to the criminal that almost made you drown, you huff out. “I’ll kill you! Just you watch.”

Your scrunchie nowhere to be found, forever lost somewhere outside of the beach house, you think, as it flew off your hand in the impact of the attack, shock makes your figure shake alongside of the coldness of the water, making you audibly sigh. 

Yes. You do regret coming along just a little.

JULY OF 1999

Somewhere along the way, Eric Sohn starts acting as if he’s your second older brother. Sure, you’ve known the male your whole entire life and he’s seen you grow up, but it took him 17 years of your life to come to a point where he gives you equal amount of attention whenever he’s over at your house than he does to your brother, and even asks Sunwoo if you’re coming along with them whenever they leave to hang out somewhere else. It’s a change that comes naturally and slowly, and you welcome it unknowingly– the revelation shocks you on a hot summer day, though, when the idea finally comes to you in full force.

You would even argue and say Eric acts more like your brother than your actual sibling does– he asks if you’ve eaten and listens to you when you talk (which Sunwoo never does, well, except from when he’s arguing with you). Eric even compliments your outfits sometimes and lets you borrow his MP3 player from time to time– Sunwoo would never share his things with you, no matter how hard you pleaded and threatened to tell your mum. Yes, your brother's an adult and you’re one year away from becoming one– you still resolve your conflicts through your only parent, though. Some things, you never grow out of.

“I wanna try using the skateboard now, Sunwoo,” you order sternly when the boy finally reaches your destination. You’ve been sitting on the sidewalk for quite some time now, since your brother and his friend decided that they’re gonna try out their new skateboards on the hottest day of the year. Your town doesn’t have fancy skateparks and ramps like the ones you’ve seen in the music videos on TV, so you don’t really know what initially made the two buy those things, but you do admit that even driving up and down the road in front of your house does seem a little fun– so much you’d love to try it.

“What a shame we all wish for things we can’t have,” he shrugs ironically, shaking his head at you from his position above. The male reaches down for his bag, taking out a water bottle and putting it against his plush lips, all while you glare at him from below, still seated in your initial position. Eric comes up to you two, squishing at the soft plastic bottle in Sunwoo’s hold, making the water splash your older brother in the face, leaving a winning grin to be shared between you and the shorter boy, an expression that makes you all warm on the inside. See, at least Eric always has your back.

“You can try mine, if you want,” the latter shrugs, offering you a smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “why not?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just didn’t expect you to offer, since as you saw, my dear brother just refused when I asked…” you mumble, standing up from the sidewalk and taking the skateboard into your hand. Eric offers it to you with an outstretched arm and watches as you put the board on the floor, squinting at it with much examination.

“Do you know how to ride it?” he asks.

“No,” you shake your head, “but I mean, if Sunwoo can do it, how hard can it really be?” you joke, seeing as the said boy glares at you, finally finishing his water and dropping the bottle to the ground. 

“I’ll remind you of that statement when you eat shit on the pavement,” he shushes you, rolling his eyes. 

Not paying more attention to the grumpy being that is your own brother, you relocate your attention back to the skateboard on the heated road. You’re lucky you live on a street where cars don’t often drive by, since your neighborhood is on the very edge of the town, so you don’t really fear being run over by a pickup truck. What you do worry about, though, is your lacking sense of balance, which you discovered when you learned how to ride the bike for the first time. While your brother was a professional in no time, it took you weeks to get it right, and so with the idea of riding a board that provides you zero sense of security, you get a bit worried for your own life.

Dragging your hair out of your face and aimlessly trying to tuck it behind your ears– there’s no use in trying though, as the strands slip out just as fast as they found their place– you keep staring at the board only a few centimeters away from your feet, mentally calculating your next move. There’s a noise of a backpack being opened and rustling around in the background of your miserable thoughts, and when you look up to see what’s going on, you notice Eric offering you a small, purple bundle of fabric. 

“What’s that?” you ask, even though the answer is clear as the day– you recognise your own scrunchie with no problem. You’re just surprised to see it in his hold. You thought it was forever buried somewhere in the beach house, since you weren’t able to find it after you got out of the pool, no matter how hard you tried.

“Oh,” he shrugs, amidst a little too nonchalantly, “I found it and figured it was yours, but I forgot to give it back to you then… it seems like you need it now, though,” he offers you an explanation, lips pressed into a thin line that slightly signifies a smile.

“Ah,” you gasp, nodding as you take the hair tie out of his outstretched palm, gathering your hair into a bun and tying it up on the crown of your head– the staring contest you’ve been having with the board is much clearer now, when you don’t have your messy strands in the way. The idea of Eric keeping your scrunchie after finding it at the beach house makes your stomach do a weird kind of turn– you guess it made you a bit weirded out, if you’re being honest.

“Want some help with that?” he asks, pointing towards his skateboard.

Nervous, cracking your knuckles as you meet his eyes– he looks a bit amused, but still genuine– you nod, admitting defeat. There’s no way you’re getting on top of that board without help and not falling down. It’s always better to be safe than to be sorry, and so when Eric laughs airly at your composure and takes a few steps closer towards you, you let the male lead you, finding comfort in his secure words and actions.

Eric offers you his arms to hold when you try to get on the skateboard. He is peering at you from under his eyelashes when you put one of your legs onto the wood, his grip on your forearm getting firmer when you try to get your other foot on as well– and you must admit that you suddenly don’t feel like you might die anymore when there’s someone holding you and standing by your side. 

“See? It’s not that hard,” Eric mumbles, his voice low and reassuring from the proximity. You notice your hands sweating a little when his palm envelopes yours– damn the sun and its unbearable heat making you embarrass yourself– but he doesn’t mention it as he firmly holds you and meets your eyes. “I’m gonna drag you around a bit so you get used to it before trying yourself,” he says before taking a few steps forward, preparing to be your own type of personal driver.

Having him instruct you and help you around makes you feel more comfortable on the board. Sunwoo would never do such a thing for you– he’d enjoy watching you fall down and break your neck and possibly die– so you’re more than happy to have someone in your life that takes care of you in ways your older brother refuses to. 

The skateboard moves forward a little, starting slow, but then picking up speed as Eric jogs a little, making you laugh at the action. He does not have to go above and beyond, but he still does– but you guess it’s good for him to let out his energy somewhere. After a while, he looks back at you and meets your eye with a warm gaze, making you nod at him reassuringly and hold up a thumb of the hand he’s not holding right now, signaling that you’re okay and enjoying yourself. That has the male let go of your hand and let you take the road with the laws of physics, moving forward by yourself with the force he created. 

It’s nice. It’s fun. 

Yes, you totally understand why Eric and Sunwoo wanted skateboards after seeing them on TV. Hell, you want one now.

“Try it yourself now!” Eric encourages you as the board naturally comes to a stop under you, and his smiling face is enough for you to take initiative and nod, relocating one foot off the wood and placing it on the floor, then kicking it and making yourself move on the simple vehicle.

A moment of surprise envelopes you like a warm hug when you manage to not fall off and keep your balance, the joy of it making you try to go faster on the board, kicking once, twice against the pavement with the sole of your old, beaten up shoe. “I’m doing it!” you yell, glancing back at Eric standing on the sidewalk, watching you with excited eyes. The male offers you a victorious holler, something that makes you break into a laugh, makes your confidence blossom in marvelous ways.

Confidence rises in you so much you try to take a U-turn and go back to your teacher– perhaps showing off that you really got the hang of it now, or something– but as you try to maneuver the board and turn right, there it comes: the moment where you realize that you were, once again, too overly-confident in your abilities that are, sadly, very poor. Your body sways from side to side, your poor balance laughs at you and points an accusing finger at your attempts, and, well, to put it frankly, your whole life flashes in front of your eyes and the moment plays in slow motion as you lose the board from below your feet– the wood flying somewhere to the opposite side of the road, not at all where you meant to go in the first place– and your body inevitably comes crashing to the ground.

Awaiting the hard pavement meeting your nose and breaking it, you brace yourself with palms outstretched in front of you, the last remains of self-perseverance entering the sane parts of your brain in what you think are the last seconds of your miserable life. Another moment of surprise greets you when your yelp is muffled against something soft and your hands don’t hit the hard pavement, your ears filled with a grunt that belongs to another human swiftly chiming in and catching you before you fall.

Firm hands hold your waist– the touch somehow familiar, enveloping you in a strange sense of deja vu– and even though your body goes limp in terror, the male has you back on your feet in no time, his palms on the exposed skin of your stomach. The realization has you burning up as you look up and meet Eric’s eyes, gasping at the closeness of his face to yours. 

“You okay over there?” he asks as you unconsciously study his face– you never noticed his nose looked this nice up close– before you wake out of it and nod urgently, breaking away from his hold. You’re not gonna try to calculate the effort he must have put in just to chime in and catch you from where he was standing in such a short moment, but something about the passing thought of it has you weak in your knees from gratefulness. 

“Uhm- yeah,” you nod, kicking the pavement with your stained shoes, “I just… miscalculated my skills, that’s all,” you sheepishly hum, hearing the boy snicker at your shaken-up composure.

Watching him take off and retrieve his skateboard from where it wandered off against the curb– much to his golden retriever energy– you sigh and prepare to go sit back on the sidewalk, having enough of new experiences from the shock still lingering in your fingertips. You take a glance down the road, seeing your older brother cruising on the street– when and how he got there, you truly have no idea– when you hear Eric, who seemingly has different ideas for your next actions, call at you from the middle of the pavement.

“Where are you going? Come back!” he asks, having you look at him in surprise, mouth agape and eyes big, staring at him. He now has the board under his shoulder, but puts it back on the road and points at it, shrugging to himself. “I’ll push you down the road, it’s gonna be fun!”

“Eric, I’m literally going to die–”

“No, you’re not. Come on, I promise,” he says, but still, he doesn’t have you convinced. Your feet move against your best conclusions, though, and when you come to a halt right in front of your companion, he offers you a boyish grin. “Sit down on it, that way you’re more balanced. I swear you’re not gonna fall off, okay? I got you.”

“You promise?”

“Yes,” he nods, determined.

“Pinky swear,” you mumble, holding up your pinky finger– all thoughts of seeming childish pushed to the side in the desperate moment– and the male in front of you shakes his head in disbelief, breaking into a laugh.

“Cute,” he huffs, “yeah, okay. Pinky swear,” he nods, interlacing your pinky with his and bumping his thumb against yours, the seal foolishly making you feel more secure as you follow his order and take a seat on the skateboard, your hands gripping the bottom of the wood so hard your knuckles turn white.

“Okay, ready? 3, 2, 1–” he chants as he pushes you, two steady hands coming in contact with your shoulder blades, force making you move on the board, wheels taking you down with gravity. The sound of Eric’s shoes hitting the pavement fills your ears as you go faster, and as you finally get to the part of the hill that takes a downwards slope, he offers you a final push, sending you down the road. 

Wind makes your hair fly back, your surroundings blurring as you yelp and scream, but you can’t say you’re not enjoying the ride. Eric was right– it was fun, you liked it, and something about the gesture had you all warm on the inside. The breeze has you cool down a little in the summer heat, and the board continues to move even as you pass your older brother standing at the bottom of the slope, away from your trajectory. 

Body relaxing when the skateboard finally slows down, you let out a heartfelt laughter. Turning back and seeing Eric jog down the road with a humongous grin on his face, you offer him two thumbs up above your head, watching as he returns the gesture and makes his way back to the two of you on the bottom of the small hill.

The truth is, this was the day you realized Eric Sohn has always found his way to make you feel included and safe. 

You can’t help but feel grateful.

AUGUST OF 1999

“Sunwoo, you have to tie a knot here and then– no, you dumbass, you’re doing it completely wrong,” you mourn as you watch your older brother with a mess of thread in his lap, a focused scowl on his face. There’s a fan standing across from you, blowing cold air into your face, but you still feel yourself grow heated with frustration as Sunwoo just can’t help but not understand the art of making friendship bracelets. It’s not like you’re forcing him to do them– he was the one that asked you to show him how to, muttering something about offering one to his classmate Yeji once he’s back in school– so in theory, he should be putting in effort, no? 

Or maybe he is. Maybe he’s just… incompetent.

“I don’t get it,” Sunwoo hums under his breath, sighing as he leans against the sofa in your living room, the two of you sitting on the floor accompanied by his best friend squinting at you from the opposite side, a comic book in the latter's hand. The myth of men not being able to multi-task is quickly thrown into the bin as you watch Eric pay equal amount of attention to the comic book and the dialogue between you and your brother, and when Sunwoo seems to give up on the art of making friendship bracelets, his best friend can’t help but laugh.

“You’re giving up already? This is how you want to get a girlfriend?” you poke your brother to his side and take the threads off his lap, examining the mess of a safety pin and meters of yarn, all knotted up and not coming along in the shape you taught him to at all.

“It’s not to get a girlfriend, I just-”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, huffing as you roll his poor attempt at friendship bracelet into a ball and throw it to the corner of the room, making a mental note to pick it up and throw it to the bin later. “You know what, just give her this one and pretend you made it,” you mutter, taking a bracelet you'd already made to demonstrate in between your fingers and throw it into Sunwoo’s lap, the older one catching it and examining it under his nose.

“That looks pretty good,” he hums, making you snort at his appreciative comment. The bracelet is pink and red, the colors just screaming romance and cute energy, which is exactly what a girl needs to be swayed by your brother. You can’t really believe a bracelet will make her swoop into his arms, because truthfully, with your brother’s face and manners, every living thing is keeping a fair distance, but hey, it doesn’t hurt to try, does it? Maybe his classmate is… majorly blind? That might do it?

“Of course it looks good,” you scoff, “that’s because I made it,” you nod, averting your gaze towards your lap, threading your fingers through the yarn you attached to a safety pin on your sweatpants to keep the growing friendship bracelet in place. 

“Then why is the one you’re making right now so ugly?” Eric asks, pointing towards the creation. 

Glancing up at the male slowly, mentally throwing all different kinds of curses at him for daring to talk badly about your craft, you huff. “What do you mean, ugly?”

“The colors… they don’t… they don’t really go together,” Eric sheepishly admits, scratching the back of his neck, quickly averting his gaze from you and gluing it back into his comic book. You think that if he doesn’t stop being a smart-ass and throw jabs at your artistic choices, he’s gonna have to protect his comic book with his own body– and you bet he’d do that, because he borrowed it from the library. The fees for damage are high.

“That’s just… not true at all,” you muse, but groggily take a look at the creation once again, but now, thanks to the remark, seeing it in a completely different way. Shades of orange, brown and purple stare back at you amidst a little disappointedly, and as you thread the yarn and make a couple of knots to end the bracelet, you can’t help but feel a pout growing on your face from the realization. Eric might be right. It does look a little bad…

“Whatever. Your taste is just bad,” you snap as you finish off the craft piece, unclasping the safety pin and sliding the bracelet off the inside, freeing it from the hold. Eric laughs a little at your frustrated state– similarly to what you do when you manage to get Sunwoo upset– and with that, you sigh and put the bracelet on the coffee table.

“I’m going out to the store to get some chocolates,” you say as you stand up, goal clear in your mind, “have fun, losers.”

“You’re still collecting the stickers from these?” Sunwoo asks, a mischievous smile growing on his lips. The teasing is inevitable and coming very soon, and there’s nothing you can do about it– you’re fully aware, which only further makes you want to escape the situation more quickly. Rolling your eyes at your brother’s antics, you move towards the door. 

“Yes, Sunwoo, I am. They’re cute and make me happy, do you have a problem with that?” you point an accusing finger at the male, having him shrug, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“You’re such a kid,” he huffs, averting his gaze from you when he lands the comment, the jab coming straight at your fragile heart.

“Okay, then,” you note, “I’ll just have my pretty and cute bracelet back, and you can get your girlfriend something else-”

The male quickly regains his previous composure, swatting his hands in hurry just to make you halt in your sentence. His eyes are big and his mouth is a little agape in terror as he tries to save his ass, plea written all over his face. “I was just joking! Don’t be so petulant… go get your cute stickers, they’re so fun!”

Humming to yourself, your face is tugged up into a victorious smile. “That's what I thought. So, as I was saying, have fun, losers.”

“Wait!” Eric suddenly calls for you, making you turn on your heel in the middle of your escape, eyes peering at the male. “Don’t I get a bracelet too?”

The request catches you off guard. There’s a certain kind of spark in Eric Sohn���s eyes as he asks the question, and you can’t really place it in any category, but it has you nervously shrugging at the preposition. You’re not really sure why Eric would want a bracelet from you, but to avoid confrontation and also the weird leap of your heart surely leading you into cardiac arrest, you only shrug and move back inside of the living room, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you scan the surroundings, searching for something.

“Sure,” you nod, taking the ugly bracelet off the table and offering it to him, “you can have that one.”

You hold a staring contest with the older boy for a couple of seconds, his head undoubtedly swirling with arguments and comments about the apparel of the friendship bracelet, but he’s smart– he must know the survival of his beloved comic book must be at stake. So, he only nods and smiles at you, outstretching his hand to you and nudging his head in its direction.

“Okay,” he hums, “tie it for me?”

A second comes by– a heartbeat, really– in which you chew on your bottom lip and gasp at the request, but still, you nod and come closer, crouching down to be at his level and taking the thread into your fingers. You wrap the bracelet around his wrist, making sure to leave a bit of wiggle room before you tie a knot, bringing the ends together, all while feeling the eyes of Eric glued to your face, watching every micro expression flash through your unsettling composure.

When you’re done, making a move to hide your hands behind your back and standing up, your limbs bump into each other and send an unspoken sense of electricity all through your body. The sensation is so strange you don’t meet anyone’s eye before you leave the room, yelling out a goodbye as you hurriedly open the front door and run out to get fresh air (it’s August, though. The air is humid and only makes your head spin more).

You clear your throat before you take off to the grocery store. It's only when you're halfway there that you realize you'd forgotten to bring your wallet with you. It's okay, though– you take this chance to walk around, regaining your casualty.

You bet Eric will take the bracelet off in a matter of a week.

SEPTEMBER OF 1999

The leaves start turning orange and the weather a bit colder when you become hyper-aware of your shifting composure whenever Eric Sohn is around. The way you feel heat rushing to your cheeks whenever he calls you cutie, a nickname he’s had reserved for you since you two were little kids, the way you feel weak in your knees whenever he casually brings his arm around your shoulders or when he bends down to tie your shoelace in the middle of the sidewalk. You don’t really know what those sudden changes are, yet, you feel a bit embarrassed by them whenever they take place. You don’t think it’s normal to feel this way around your brother’s best friend, and the more you hang out with him, the more you wish you read less books as a child– because now, you’re also hyper-aware of the title those feelings may have. 

Still, it only comes to you on one September afternoon– you wake up from blissful unawareness and jolt with the quickly opening pit in your stomach at the strange revelation.

“Eric! Sunwoo isn’t home, though?” you mumble, confused as you notice the boy standing on your doorway, a plastic bag in his hand and a red Nike jacket enveloping his frame.

“I know, he said he’s hanging out with Juyeon hyung today,” he nods, “I brought you something, though,” he says, holding up the bag and making sure you get a chance to see it, offering you a boyish grin.

“Oh?” you gasp, furrowing your eyebrows at the male. When you do nothing to invite him inside, he does so himself– slightly nudging you in your side as he passes your figure and enters your house. He acts like he owns the place, and by the amount of time he’s spent in your home, you’d think he does– he doesn’t, though. The only thing he owns is just a lot of audacity.

The male takes off his shoes in the entryway and walks his way over to your room– a surprising act, considering he’s spent the least amount of time in this very place– and when he’s sure you’re following his every move, he empties the contents of the bag to the middle of your freshly made bed. Watching as approximately ten items fall out of the plastic, your eyes widen with surprise as you recognise your favorite chocolate– the mini bars with stickers inside, the ones you collect and stick into your journal and look at in the middle of the night, giggling to yourself and kicking your feet at the adorable pictures in your make-shift collect book.

“Woah,” you gasp when the male looks at you, seemingly awaiting your response, and when he gets the wished outcome, pride overtakes his features, shrugging to himself.

“My mum got some for free because she bought a lot of cabbage for kimchi yesterday,” he explains, “I thought of you when I saw them, so I bought you some more.”

“I- you-” you stutter, emotions too big for your own good swelling all inside your fragile, little self, hands running into your hair and tugging at the roots to wake yourself up from the dream. “You didn’t have to!”

“We got them anyway, and I know you like the stickers,” Eric shrugs, scratching the back of his neck, completely ignoring the fact that he said he bought you some more, your heart skipping a beat at the sentiment. Clearing your throat, you tentatively take a step closer to your bed, gathering a bar of chocolate into your hand and opening it, taking a bite.

“You can have the stickers if you give me some chocolate,” Eric says close to your ear, almost as if he was creating a masterplan, to which you eagerly nod and plop onto your bed, moving the bars of sweets into one pile. As you continue to munch on the first one, you unwrap the sticker and look at it, praying to yourself as if you were checking if your lottery ticket was worth any cent– hoping you get a sticker you don’t own yet.

The image of a cute panda would cheer anyone up even in their darkest moments– not you, though, as you mourn and sigh, disappointment clear in your features. 

“What?” Eric asks, eyes big pools of worry.

“I already got that one.”

“Ah,” he nods, seemingly understanding– much to your surprise, “well, we got 9 more tries, let’s get to eating.”

Wrappers are rustling in your bed sheets as you and Eric eat the concerning amount of chocolate, gathering the stickers in a little pile on top of your notebook, promising each other to not look at the stickers as you go and just make a grand reveal at the end. Eric’s full cheeks are a sight you enjoy, telling him he looks like a squirrel– to which he sends a light flick to your forehead, telling you you don’t look much different– and soon enough, the nine bars left disappear from your plain sight (you only had 3 and Eric ate the remaining 5. He’s a growing boy, though, so you understand. He needs to get his undying energy from somewhere.).

“Ready for the reveal?” you ask, locking your gaze with Eric.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

With that, you get to the pile of stickers in the middle of your bedsheets. Looking at the first one, there’s a happy squeal cutting out of your throat, the image of an adorable yellow duck warming you up with euphoria. 

“You don’t have that one yet?”

“I don’t,” you nod, “this is just perfect.”

Eric nods and watches you with a certain kind of warmth in his gaze as you open up your notebook and stick the newest addition to your little sticker farm– or a ZOO, however you wanna call it. The next sticker from the pile is added as well– a brown, big bear– and the next one too, the most adorable colorful parrot slapped to the corner of your page. 

The rest of your stickers are the ones you already own, though– a displeased look takes over your features at the knowledge, but still, you can’t help but beam at the fact that you have 3 new additions to your collection, and they were a gift from Eric Sohn himself. Someone who doesn’t make fun of your childish habit. Someone who feeds your little interest, watches you with excitement in his eyes as you indulge. Someone not like your brother. 

Someone you could never see the way you see your brother.

“What do you do with the duplicates?” Eric asks, pointing to the sad pile on the top of your notebook. His figure is closer to you now, since he wanted to watch you stick the animals into your notebook, his crossed legs almost pressed against yours on the small bed.

“Well, usually, I just throw them out,” you shrug, “but since you’re here…” you muse, the idea plopping into your head like the newest discovery you should probably patent, peeling the back of one of the dog stickers off and swiftly turning towards your companion, mischief sparkling in your eyes.

You put the sticker on his left cheek, making the boy jump. “Hey!”

Giggling, taking another one of the stickers and pressing it to the middle of his forehead, Eric starts to fight you, your bodies wrestling on the bed. You don’t think he puts much effort into getting you off him– that, or he’s insanely weak– and in no time, his face is adorned with all different kinds of animals, his hair messy from tussling in your bedsheets. The image has you laughing before you realize you’re basically straddling him on your bed, his big eyes gaping at you from below, his appearance enough to make something in your brain short-circuit and make you leap off him, clearing your throat.

Heat rushes into your cheeks as you take a seat next to him, playing with your fingers. You pray for anything to come and ease the awkwardness you caused, and sure enough, today must be your lucky day. “Hey, look here!” 

You call for the boy as you swiftly take your polaroid camera off your bedside table– the one that belonged to your dad, the one you fought with Sunwoo about, the one your mum said was yours because Sunwoo is too careless with his things to keep it safe– and snap a picture of the puppy-like boy, laughing at the fact that now, you have the image of him looking dumb and covered in stickers forever. Or at least until he doesn't take it away from you– which he attempts quickly.

“Hey!” he yelps again, huffing as he lunges at you, trying to take the picture out of your grasp as you drop the camera into your soft sheets. Your feet take you to the living room, navigating through furniture, and when you don’t hear footsteps follow you, you think you’re safe– Eric does have a lot of energy, but chasing you around gets tiring for him quickly when he knows you'll never let him win.

Entering your room once again, prepared to find him on your bed like before, you’re taken by surprise as a shutter sound goes off right after you open the door, a polaroid picture taken of your face making you temporarily blind at the flash.

“Eric!” you whine, hating that there’s a picture of you standing shocked at your doorway now forever in the universe– not really caring that the boy just got you back with the exact stunt you pulled on him just a few minutes ago. Before you get a chance to blink out the blind spots in your vision caused by the flash and run after him, though, you feel him gently press you out of the doorway and slip outside, the sound of the front door opening and closing after him resonating along his slowly disappearing, amused laughter.

Serves you right, doesn’t it? 

Sighing, you shake your head and take a seat on your bed, the picture of the boy still in between your fingertips. You only take a look at it when your vision comes back to normal, and as the image of Eric covered in stickers, hair messy and cheeks rosy below the animal print comes into your sight, the revelation arrives the same second a starstruck smile plays with your features.

And with that, you’re absolutely terrified. 

Throwing the polaroid picture onto the bedside table and lunging yourself into the sheets, you scream into your pillow and wish for the feelings to disappear– because in what world does a crush on your brother’s best friend ever come to a happy ending?

OCTOBER OF 1999

Once October hits, you find yourself home alone more often than you’d like. Sure, you don’t mind having some me time to read comic books or watch the TV uninterrupted in the living room, but still– alone turns lonely pretty quickly, and somehow, you start to regret the fact that you’ve been relying on your older brother and his friends for so long instead of making some connections on your own.

Sunwoo started to play soccer at school– something is telling you that he might go far if he keeps it up– and that’s why he’s been stuck at practice every single day, coming home late in the evening all tired, but happy, so you’re not really complaining. Eric works in the little bistro downtown now, since he wanted to make some money and not rely on the allowance Mrs. Sohn gives him every month, and it’s not like you were that close to begin with, but the fact that the boy is now too busy to meet you is making your spirit fall just the tiniest bit. And with your mother always being at work, you find yourself alone in your room, laying in your bed and staring at the ceiling. 

Sometimes, you journal. About anything and everything, really. You don’t really think you’re ever gonna read back the entries once you’re older, since they would just be a reminder of how miserable and boring your teenage years really were, and that’s why you allow yourself to be authentic. On most days, you write about your assignments for school. Sometimes you bad mouth a classmate or two– gossiping with the diary pages, because you don’t really have any human beings to do so in real life– and seldom, you allow yourself to get into topics that evoke the slightest bits of existential crisis in you.

Topics like college. Growing up. Your lack of hobbies and social interaction with the outer world. The newly found crush on Eric Sohn…

Okay, maybe you do write about the boy with brown hair and dark eyes a little too often. You can’t help it, though– when he’s not giving you any new interactions to dwell on, you have to just pick apart the old ones. You think it’s a natural reaction.

And that’s exactly what you’re doing one October afternoon, the lamp in your room on, since the evening comes faster when the weather is colder, as you’re laying in your bed and kicking your feet back and forth, chewing on the end of your pencil. The sound of your doorbell resonates through the house suddenly and startles you, making you jump awake from your delirious delusions.

Mentally going through the list of possible visitors you could have– because it can’t be your mother or your brother, since they never forget to carry their house keys– you’re lost, not really finding any fitting candidates. Furrowing your brows, lost in thought and frankly, a bit confused, you plant your socked feet onto the wooden floor and walk over to the front door just in time for the bell to ring again. Scratching the back of your neck in nerves, thinking of precautions you could take for your own safety– since your front door doesn’t have a peep hole and you don’t want to open the door to a complete stranger– you clear your throat and yell over the door.

“Who is it?” you ask.

“Delivery!” a voice calls through the door, making you huff. 

“I didn’t order any food?” you yell back, confused. “Sir, there’s another house behind ours, sometimes the mailmen get confused and we get their mail. Maybe try there?” 

“The address is right, though?” the voice calls again, and somehow, it sounds kind of familiar… no, it can’t be, you dumb goose. You’re just imagining things because you’ve spent the last 20 minutes writing about the curve of his nose into your diary.

“There must be a mistake-”

“Come on, Y/N, open the door,” the voice on the other side mourns, the mention of your name making you jump, completely startled. The tone the man says it in is sweet like honey, though, so familiar in your ears, that you mentally want to slap yourself– so you weren’t dreaming. It is him.

Dragging your hand through your hair to smooth it down, praying you look at least a little presentable– although in your stained sweatpants and the Pokémon shirt you inherited from Sunwoo when he grew out of it, you doubt that’s even possible– you open the door and try to offer Eric a warm smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Food delivery,” Eric shrugs, pointing with his thumb in the direction behind his back, where his bike undoubtedly stands up against your gate.

“Oh…. but I already told you I didn’t order anything,” you mumble, confused. Studying his face– because a girl can indulge when she has the opportunity, am I right? – you notice his hair has grown a little longer, falling into his eyes. You bet it’s hard for him to see, but you must admit it looks nice, and you almost tell him, before you catch yourself and break away from the sentiment. 

The male snickers. “I know, I was just joking,” he says, “I did bring you food, though.”

“Why?” you ask, confused when he bends over and picks up a plastic bag off the ground, a container of food inside, the warmth of the contents making condensation appear all over the red sack. 

“We made this by mistake and it was just gonna be thrown out if nobody took it,” he shrugs, “and I figured you haven’t eaten yet– or if you did, you just had those cold kimbap rolls from the store– and I wanted to get some warm food into your stomach.”

“Ah,” you gasp, nodding at the explanation. It does explain the source of the food really well, but truthfully, it explains nothing about the fact why Eric thought of bringing you the food instead of taking it home with himself– he’s a foodie if you’ve ever seen one. The idea of him worrying about if you were fed or not is equally as strange and interesting in your head– still, you clasp your hand around the bag and take it, the smell making you involuntarily hungry. “Thank you.”

Eric only nods at you, a smile beaming at his face. “Well,” he sighs, “I’d love to stay longer and hang out, but I’m still on the clock, so…” he mumbles, taking a hesitant step backwards towards his bike, eyes never breaking contact with yours.

“Oh, right,” you nod, “that’s okay. Have a fun day at work!” you muse, watching him as he grins and finally retrieves back his bike, opening up the gate to your property and escaping, waving at you as he gets on.

“I’ll see you soon!” he calls as he rides off, your eyes following him until his figure disappears behind a corner, your ears buzzing with excitement and your lower lip trapped between your teeth with the innocent promise.

Walking back into the house, you grin as you close the front door behind you and carry the food into the kitchen. You quickly get the containers out of the damp bag, putting them onto the wooden table, and gasp when you find a sticky note on the very top one, a messy handwriting scribbled in a rush, but stuck to the food with care.

Eat well and don’t skip meals, Y/N-ie!! – Eric x

Not being able to battle your smile anymore, you decide to open up the containers and stuff your mouth with the food instead– only to find your favorite dish inside, staring back at you in what seems to be a dream that’s too good to wake up from. 

And sure, you are delusional, but are you delusional enough to believe that this wasn’t all a coincidence? You’re not so sure.

Still, you eat the food with feet kicking back and forth as you sit in the silent kitchen, the empty house no longer feeling so lonely. When you’re done, you throw the trash out– everything but the sticky note, which you glue into your diary a few minutes later, hoping to keep the memory forever.

NOVEMBER OF 1999

The world around you is dark as you step outside of cram school, your eyes are tired and your skin is prickled with goosebumps in the chilly air. You despise going to cram school, but your mother told you you have to– since you didn’t have any athletic features that could get you far in life like Sunwoo, you had to be good at studying, or else you won’t get into university. There was a lot of work ahead of you, but since you didn’t really have anything else to do in the day, you didn’t protest and went anyway.

The days are usually very long and you get off very late, resulting in you being tired almost all the time. When you get home, you undress yourself and change into your sleep clothes and doze off until the morning, when you have to wake up and go to school again– it’s an exhausting cycle, but you know you have to endure it for your own sake.

Walking down the steps that lead out the cram school building, you stretch your body and huff, cursing at yourself for the fact that you didn’t bring a jacket– you forgot that evenings get really chilly, and frankly speaking, you didn’t have much time to think when you were rushing to get ready in the morning. You’ll just have to get through it, you think to yourself as you walk in the direction of your house– the last bus to your neighborhood already left an hour ago, when you were in the middle of revising division– your sneakers kicking the stray rocks below your feet as you tug the sleeves of your hoodie lower, desperately trying to feel more heat.

“Do you never watch where you’re going? That’s gonna get you in trouble one day, you know,” you hear a familiar voice say, the joking tone making your heart skip a few beats as you place the owner of the saccharine voice to its face. Looking up, slightly alarmed at being caught in such a distressed state, you gasp.

“I was… watching my step, I guess,” you shrug as you come into a halt in front of him, shivering both under Eric’s gaze and the cold weather at once. “What are you doing here? Deliveries?”

“I just got off,” he says, “so I figured I could stop by. Sunwoo said you’re going to cram school, I thought you might enjoy some company on your way home.”

Gaping at his explanation, you nod, completely startled. The idea of your brother talking about you in front of Eric, the boy you have a very embarrassing, very big crush on scares you, to say the least. See, it doesn’t really matter that the boy grew up with you, pretty much seeing you at your lowest whenever he was around over at your house when you were both just little kids– the image of Sunwoo telling Eric about finding you sobbing at your comic book (the scene got too sad, nobody can really blame you) or about how your favorite jeans ripped right before you had to go to school one morning is terrifying. You don’t really want him to know about these things. He may act like your brother sometimes, but you never really saw him in that light in the first place.

“Well, then,” you clear your throat, “it’s… it’s good to see you,” you say. Eric shows you his boyish grin as your lips utter out the words, and you can’t help but mirror it, your eyes locking with the male. As if you just took a step back, your eyes see him in a light you’ve never seen him before– as if this was your first time meeting your brother’s best friend– and something about the sentiment has your stomach feeling all uneasy, heat rushing to your face. His hair is styled in a way that tells you that he didn’t really style it (or if he did, it looked truly effortless in your eyes, so props to him), pushed back a little and revealing his forehead, a few of the strands carelessly falling into his eyes. His jawline is sharper than how it was when you first met the boy, and with the realization of a foolish teenage girl, you have to admit that Eric Sohn grew up to be a very attractive, attentive man.

“You’re cold?” he says, although the sentence sounds more like a statement rather than a question, before he shakes his head at your antics and heaves out a sigh. “You should’ve taken a jacket with you when you went, you know it gets cold in the evening,” he scolds you. In those times, he reminds you the most of your brother– because although you and Sunwoo act like you hate each other sometimes, you know the older male still cares about you. He just hates showing it, which translates in his scolding tone whenever you do something wrong or against his wishes. 

In those times, Eric reminds you the most of the way your brother treats you, and you somehow hate it. You despise the fact, because that means he must only see you as someone like his younger sister– he never had one, so maybe he just likes to compensate for it by taking care of you all the time. Maybe he feels responsible to do so because of Sunwoo. The thought makes you equally as nauseous– you’d never want him to hang out with you just because he feels like he has to. 

“I didn’t have time in the morning,” you grunt, rolling your eyes at him. You avert your gaze from the male, for it makes you slightly uncomfortable after your previous thoughts, so when the noise of a zipper being pulled down and the weight of fabric on your shoulders brings you back to reality, you snap your head around at him all alarmed. 

“What? Wear it,” he says, head shrugging towards the direction of his jacket on your figure. “You’re gonna catch a cold if you don’t.”

Trying to wrestle out of the red material, you squirm in the hold of the windbreaker– Eric’s hands gripping each side of the jacket, as if predicting your next moves, making sure it stays on you and doesn’t fall down. His strong arms tug you closer to him to make your fight more difficult– and he’s successful with his efforts, because the proximity of him and his smell engulfs you and unarms you, heat rushing to your cheeks as you halt in your movements.

“Stop,” you mourn, “I don’t need it.”

“Yes you do,” he insists, “so stop being a baby about it and wear it.”

Staring into his eyes, as if to mentally tell him to stop what he’s doing– to stop how he’s treating you, how he’s making you all weak in your knees and sleepless at nights because of how much you think of him and hope he’s doing well each day, to stop being so gentle with you and taking care of you, because it brings all sorts of both doubts and delusions into your head– but he doesn’t back down. You’ve known him for quite some time, you should already be aware of just how stubborn he can be.

“Arms in,” he hums, holding on to the jacket and waiting for you to wear it properly. One thing about you– you can always admit your defeat. So, with a sigh, you put your arms through the sleeves of Eric’s red windbreaker, shrinking a little under his firm gaze. He looks at you with a look full of something you can’t decipher, and it’s all making you so, so insanely lost in the many thoughts and feelings swirling around your head, not helping your current state.

“I already have a brother, y’know,” you mumble in a moment of weakness, looking at your feet– your dirty white sneakers almost touching his from how close you are standing right now, “so you should stop treating me like one.”

A moment of silence overtakes you two, and you suddenly feel like you’ve done something wrong. Still, Eric’s hands are holding on to the sides of the opened jacket, keeping you close to him. “Hm?” 

Clearing your throat and shaking your head, you snicker to yourself. “Forget it.”

“No- I mean,” he blurts out, tone of voice a little nervous, “do you see me as your brother figure?” he asks, tone of voice more quiet now, more gentle.

Breathing in the crispy air, taking a moment before you reply, you shake your head in disapproval. “No,” you say, “no, I don’t. I- I don’t think I do,” you say, scared of what your answer will bring out of him. You don’t really know why, but at this moment, you feel insanely fragile– as if any bad move could make you break in his hands, waiting for him to glue you back together. 

Metaphorically, he does just that. “Good,” he nods, leaning down towards you, hands gripping the zipper of his jacket and zipping it together, making sure no cold can get to your bones as his fingers tug it up towards the very top, under your chin. “Because I’ve never seen you as my sister either.”

His answer once again startles you– but when you take a step back from the situation, you think it was in a good way. His hands grip your shoulders for a second as his eyes meet yours and he offers you a warm smile. “Come on, let’s get you home,” he says, tugging you towards the fence where you find his bike, his motions guiding you like a rag doll sucked out of all life.

“Hop in,” he motions towards the back of the bike, where the basket would usually be– Eric moved it towards the front, though, leaving enough room for you to sit at– and as you do, he takes a seat in front of you and looks back at you over his shoulder. “Hold on tight so you don’t fall.”

Like in a trance, your arms sneak around his middle– this was the first time you had this kind of physical touch with him, and just the thought of it makes you want to scream your throat out– before the male takes off on the bike, riding towards your neighborhood. With the cold wind slapping your face, you foolishly rest your cheek on his shoulder blade and close your eyes, enjoying the closeness of his body keeping you warm. 

If anyone asked you about the action, you’d tell them you were just tired.

DECEMBER OF 1999

Socked feet make their way through the room, the sound of footsteps resonating on the laminated floor, as the short male comes up to you with a bowl of potato chips in his right hand and a bottle of soda under his left arm. Eric Sohn sighs at you, shaking his head in disbelief, before he places the items onto the coffee table and takes a seat next to you on the floor, opening up the bottle and pouring the three of you drinks.

“Can’t believe I’m spending New Year’s Eve with you losers, of all people,” Eric snickers, having you roll your eyes at the male and grumpily furrow your eyebrows at his sentence.

“No one’s stopping you if you wanna go, y’know,” you grunt as you take the filled glass off the table, taking a sip of the sweet drink and sighing at him. If he’s gonna take a leap into the new year with you while making you annoyed, he may as well leave now and do whatever his initial plan was– once again, no one’s stopping him if that’s what he wants to do.

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, “it would’ve been so much more fun if we all went to Juyeon hyung’s. Everyone’s there celebrating, but we’re stuck here in your room.” 

“Well, Eric,” your brother smiles ironically at him, shrugging to himself, “it’s not like it’s my fault you’re not over at Juyeon hyung’s right now. You chose to spend the new years here with me. My mother prohibited me from going there, not yours.”

The argument has the male shrug, his eyes averting your brother’s gaze once his comment gets a bit too honest and realistic. It’s true and he’s right– it’s not like Eric’s mum told him he can’t go celebrate with his friends, because she didn’t. Eric’s mum trusts him and wants him to have fun and do what all the kids his age are doing. Your mum, on the other hand, is making you and Sunwoo stay home for New Year’s Eve to celebrate with your family, because, as she quoted, New Year’s Eve the only time she gets time off work, and she wants to spend it with her kids– forget the fact that you’re currently sitting locked in your room with your friend, protesting the family time just because you can– and when Sunwoo told her she has to stop treating him like a little kid, she told him she has all the right to do so, because he is her kid. And that’s how the party he was supposed to attend with Eric (the party you foolishly thought you’re gonna have to tag along to, not hating the sentiment as much as before now) got canceled from your brother’s plans.

“Well,” Eric chews on the inside of his cheek, “I did it for you two. Be grateful.”

“Whatever,” you hum, “let’s turn on the TV. I bet there’s some variety show on.”

Eric heaves out a sigh as he reaches for the TV remote, clicking the power button and making the boxy device in front of you light up. Your mum got you a TV in your room when you complained about being too bored one November day, and although the box of entertainment didn’t really help like you imagined it to, you’re glad it’s of service at least today. Instead of the expected variety show, though, there’s news on– the face of the old announcer looking at you with a serious look on his face, the professional tone making chills run down your spine, for he reminds you a bit of your mother when she scolds you. You think that’s a common news announcer trait. 

“As the year 2000 approaches, computer programmers realize that computers might not interpret the 00 in the software as 2000, but 1900. The softwares currently running only use a two-digit code for the year, excluding the 19. The data was excluded because the data storage is costly and takes up too much space. Activities that were planned on a daily basis could be damaged or flawed,” the announcer says, making the three of you look at the screen with interest. Maybe it’s true that when you get older, you get more interested in news– you think it’s good to know what’s going on around you, although the topic discussed right now might not even concern you in the slightest.

“Banks, which calculate the interest rates on a daily basis, could face real problems. Interest rates are the amount of money a lender, such as a bank, charges a customer, such as an individual or business, for a loan. Instead of the rate of interest for one day, the computer could calculate a rate of interest for minus almost 100 years!” 

“Oops,” Eric lets out next to you, a reaction so far away from what a real adult would think of the situation. See, you are all just kids, after all.

“Centers of technology, such as power plants, are also threatened by this issue. Power plants depend on routine computer maintenance for safety checks, such as water pressure or radiation levels. Not having the correct date could throw off these calculations and possibly put nearby residents at risk,” the announcer continues, the information coming out of his mouth suddenly making you hyper aware of the reality you’re experiencing right now.

“Do we have a nuclear power plant nearby?” you ask in a hushed whisper, watching as the men next to you almost comically widen their eyes, shrugging.

“I’m not sure,” Sunwoo peeps.

“The worst of all, this software and hardware issue could cause such a big problem in nuclear energy facilities, where nuclear bombs and missiles could be set off, causing the world to go into utter chaos, or worse, an end,” the announcer concludes, the last word making you gasp in terror. 

“An end?” you chirp, sitting up straight in your seat as you look at the two men, now equally as terrified. There’s something in Sunwoo’s gaze that makes chills run down your spine, the reality crushing down on you with heavy measures. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have fought with mum. What if the last words the two of us exchanged before we die are the harsh words I had said yesterday?” your brother mourns, seeing as his best friend chews on his bottom lip, lost in thought.

“What did you say to your mum?”

“That- that I’ll never forgive her for ruining this for me,” he mumbles, his voice breaking at the end, “and… other things,” he adds, the hint of incoming panic making his best friend frantically wave his hands around and try to make your brother relax before he has to deal with the breakdown. If the world is ending, this is not how any of you want to go.

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Eric says, clearing his throat and pointing to the TV, “look! The show is on, we should watch before the year ends,” he proposes, taking the remote into his hand and turning the volume up to hopefully drown out Sunwoo’s thoughts and have him focus on something else. And it works– noting that your brother has an attention span of a 5 year old– he can hardly remember what he was worrying about just 30 seconds ago.

Still, the thought keeps bouncing around your head like a child in a bouncy castle. The words of the news anchor keep repeating in your brain, making your ears ring as you look at Eric from the corner of your eye, watching his angelic face. Oh how you hate disturbing the peace now that you’ve all calmed down– but still, you can’t deal with the worries alone. Checking the clock hung above the TV, noticing there’s at least 5 minutes left before midnight, you clear your throat, feeling your whole body on fire.

“Do you really think the world is gonna end?” you ask, cracking your knuckles in a nervous manner. Looking at Eric, pupils shaking, you find your brother’s best friend seemingly lost in thought. The music of the variety show program serves you three as a background sound now, none of you paying attention to the TV anymore, instead, focusing on all the things you've done wrong in your life and how somehow, this feels like karma for all of it.

“I dunno,” Sunwoo shrugs, “I mean- they said it’s possible! It was on the news, and they wouldn’t lie on the news…” he nervously mumbles, scratching the back of his head. 

“That’s what’s worrying me,” you sigh, “we shouldn’t have turned on the TV.”

“It was your idea in the first place!”

“And I’ll carry the burden into my grave,” you admit, gulping as you press a forced smile onto your lips.

Momentarily looking back at the TV, you desperately want to keep the thought of the world being over out of your head before you spend your last minutes on this earth going crazy– but now that you started, you can’t keep thinking about it. “Man, the world can’t end yet. There’s so many things I haven’t tried yet! I’m too young to die!”

The men don't reply to that– you presume they’re too busy trying to find other things to occupy themselves with instead of the inevitable– which has you dissatisfied as you throw your body back into the sofa, heaving out a sigh. Seconds go by painfully slow but also painfully fast at the same time, given the circumstances, as you listen to the cheerful song playing in the background and nudge your friend into his upper arm with your pointer finger, feeling his arm encircle your shoulders and pull you closer to him. The contact of his fingers on your upper arm makes you squirm and break out into a smile, feeling a particular lightness in your stomach at the action, a sensation that has you in shock. 

“I’m gonna talk with mum before we die,” Sunwoo suddenly calls as he stands up from his seat on the floor, sighing to himself, “I can’t go with the thought of her being upset with me,” he sentimentally adds before he’s out of the door, rushing towards the living room.

The space falls into momentary silence now that your brother is gone, having you chew on your bottom lip with nerves. You think now is the time to beg for forgiveness with the higher forces– I'm sorry for not studying well. I'm sorry for being rude and ungrateful towards my mum. I'm sorry for being greedy– when the sound of Eric’s voice resonates through the place as he speaks up again, waking you up from the anxious slumber, the clock now striking 2 minutes before midnight. “What would you wanna do before you die?” he asks.

The question is simple. You presume he wants simple answers– things like getting into college, getting a good job and making a lot of money, growing old– but as you lean away from him and get back to your place on his left, your eyes locked with his, you’re left clueless. There are so many things you have yet to achieve, and the idea of not being able to pushes a burden to your chest, but at this very moment, you can’t really name one. 

Shrugging, you chew on the inside of your cheek as your eyes scan his face. His firm eye contact has you a bit flustered, making you shrivel in your seat, and as the sound of the TV morphs from the song into a countdown from 55, you’re overwhelmed with the thought that your friend is insanely pretty– and he always has been, you just hated admitting it to yourself for the past few months, despite still being fully aware– and that now, when the world ends, you’re dying unkissed and alone.

Well, not completely alone, since Eric’s here. And he’s always been here– your whole life, since you can remember, and he’s here now as well, even though he should’ve been at Juyeon’s house. As the clock strikes 30 seconds away from midnight, your eyes involuntarily travel down to his chapped lips, all air knocked out of your lungs, the thoughts in your brain picking up on speed the closer you come to the end.

You’re dying soon. You’re dying in 30- now 29 seconds, and you’ve never kissed anyone before. You’re dying before you get a chance to hold hands with someone and have a partner, and you’re dying before you get a chance to tell Eric how you feel about him. There’s 28 seconds left until the end and you’re just staring at him like a coward, because you don’t really let yourself indulge in the silly warmth of your heart whenever you’re around your friend, but god, you can at least admit it to yourself before you die.

And as the clock gets closer and closer to midnight, now only giving you 20 seconds before it all ends and a missile lands on the top of your house, blowing up the whole town and making you all disappear, Eric’s question repeats itself in your brain. What would you want to do before you die?

The answer is suddenly painfully clear as you take action– leaning towards the boy on your right, face closer to his than it’s ever been before, your eyes counting all his eyelashes and focusing on his surprised, yet unmoving face– and as you hear the countdown reach 15, you close your eyes and press your lips against his. 

The contact makes you weak in your knees as your hands reach to his face to steady him, your own firework show erupting in your stomach, and suddenly you’re completely content with dying tonight– because at least you’re with Eric, at least you did something. You kiss your friend with something close to an unsaid confession, your lips staying on his throughout the rest of the countdown, the taste of soda you’ve both been drinking the whole evening mixing in the contact of your skin. You’re not sure you’re even doing this right– again, you’ve never kissed anyone before– but it doesn’t matter to you much as you let go of your worries, aware of the fact that in a few seconds, nothing will matter anymore when neither of you are going to be around to say anything to each other after the kiss is over.

The countdown rings in your ears– coming down from 5 as you scoot yourself closer to Eric, 4 as you run the pads of your thumbs along his cheekbones, 3 as you still in your movements, 2 as you notice your knees bumping into each other on the ground and finally, 1 as you get ready to die, kissing your first and only love– when the sound of cheers and fireworks from the TV fills your ears instead, the world around you stilling and completely unchanged.

Your kiss started in 1999 and ended in 2000. Your love for him passed a century.

Eyes fluttering open and your mouth letting go of his, the image of the boy with his lips slightly parted, eyes closed and cheeks rosy comes to you in the yellow light of your room, making your heart fall down to your stomach. He looks absolutely angelic, his hair slightly messy and the fabric of his shirt a little disheveled in the front, and even though you’d love to indulge in your foolish desires and kiss him some more, you’re quickly taken aback with the noise of the door to your room opening and making you jump away from Eric, your brother appearing out of thin air in the presence of your room. It serves you like a weird kind of reality check, Eric’s eyes opening and looking at your brother, and even though you two haven’t been caught, the male clears his throat and bites down on his lower lip, looking almost guilty.

Oh no. What have you done?

Suddenly, you feel insanely silly.

JANUARY OF 2000

“You’ve been awfully quiet the whole day,” Sunwoo mumbles from beside you, his whole body engulfed in a pile of snow, “not that I care, but are you okay?”

“I thought you liked it when I don’t talk,” you mutter, playing with the frozen white all around you, seated on the red plastic sled at the top of the hill. You got tired after dragging it up from the bottom, and when you noticed that the rest of Sunwoo’s friends– Eric included– are still on their way up, you figured you could use up the time to relax and sit around for a while. It’s been quite some time since all of Sunwoo’s friends gathered to hang out at the same time, which made you surprised to see that your own brother invited you to tag along with them as they decided to go sledding on the second day of January, using up their break to best of their abilities. Which is also why you didn’t say no to the invitation– you thought sitting at home and moping around wouldn’t help you much.

“I do,” he says, nodding, “that’s why I’m asking what’s up– so I know what to do when I need to shut you up later,” Sunwoo hums, making you roll your eyes at the masked worry.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you scoff. “It’s nothing.”

“Sure,” he shrugs, “so you’re just going through puberty?” he teases, to which you take a handful of snow into your palm and lunge the white at him, satisfaction running through your veins when the snowball lands into his unsuspecting face, the male coughing and swatting his arms around to defend himself.

“Hey!” your brother screams at you once he gets the ice out of his eyes and his mouth, his body jumping into a standing position before he chases you around, the bubble of a laugh escaping your throat for the first time these days– they’re not wrong when they say malicious joy is the best kind of joy.

Running at the top of the hill, not really looking where you’re going– instead looking over your shoulder to see Sunwoo’s actions, preparing yourself to duck if he decides to turn your small quarrel into a snow fight– your legs get tangled with the red sled you left before you started a war with the angered man, a yelp cutting out of your throat as you get prepared to fall over and knock your teeth out.

Your body comes in contact with something half-firm, half-soft, and as your feet slip and the snow-covered ground disappears from below your legs, two arms wrap around your waist and steady you, making sure you don’t get hurt.

Turns out Eric Sohn is there to catch you every time you are about to eat shit. You hate this kind of deja vu.

As you open your eyes (that you had closed on instinct, not wanting to see your own death) once you’re sure you’re safe and sound, the world around you invites itself into your ears in an overwhelming noise. The laughter of Sunwoo’s friends– some hollering at your fall, some at the redness and last remains of snow covering your brother’s face– and the hushed arguments over who’s going down first– with Haknyeon screaming that he’s stealing Sunwoo’s (yours) sled and Juyeon following him. After all those happening in the matter of a few seconds,  you realize you’re left on the top of the hill alone with the male, terror shaking through your insides.

Clearing your throat and taking a step back from him, you tuck your hands into your pockets and avert your gaze from Eric. You two haven’t spoken since you decided to kiss him on New Year’s Eve, and with the awkward tension in the air, you don’t feel like doing so ever again in your whole entire life. 

“Thanks,” still, you hum.

Eric seems a little more light-hearted than you, shrugging as he replies to you. “Haven’t I told you to start watching where you’re going?”

“I’m not good with listening sometimes,” you mutter, huffing. Taking a look around yourself– noticing that there are no sleds left on the top of the hill, therefore, if you wanted to escape the situation, the only way down would be to roll around like a human version of a snowman, you once again admit your defeat, standing around nervously and shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

The silence is uncomfortable. It makes you want to dig a hole in the snow and bury yourself alive, to suffocate under the weight of the icy cold and never see Eric’s face again. You know that you ruined whatever friendship you had with the male– by being stupid and foolish, not really thinking about consequences (because there were supposed to be none and you were supposed to be dead), and the weight of the guilt makes you want to puke and hide away. 

Still, Eric comes out of his way to talk to you. Honestly, you’re kind of surprised– he should be disgusted with you. Realistically, he should be the one avoiding you, not the other way around.“They’re gonna take long to walk back up,” he notes, “wanna get hot chocolate with me?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you shake your head, not once breaking eye contact with the overwhelming white of the hill.

“Come on,” he sighs, “it’s just around the corner. They built a hot chocolate stand because they knew kids would come sledding here. Honestly, it’s an astute business tactic, but I promise the hot chocolate actually tastes nice,” he says, nudging you slightly with his arm, as if to make you look at him and change your mind.

“Thanks, but no,” you definitely say, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asks, tone of voice casual– as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if nothing ever happened and he was genuinely curious about the reasoning behind your actions.

“I’m not, I just don’t really like hot chocolate,” you sheepishly mutter, trying hard to avoid the topic.

“So you are avoiding me,” he hums, as if it wasn’t obvious before– and not only because you’re a bad liar. Plus, you love hot chocolate. Somehow, you think Eric knows.

“Look, Eric,” you sigh, running your hand through your hair, “can’t you just drop it?”

“No,” he shrugs, shaking his head, “and that’s why we’re talking about the reason why you’re avoiding me over a cup of hot chocolate. Let’s go.”

His persistence is terribly overwhelming sometimes. You wonder how the male does it. “I already told you-”

“You owe me for the stickers and the meal and everything,” he corners you, and you know you can’t argue with that. He’s kind of right, you suppose– you never paid him back for all the chocolates or for the free meal he brought you that one evening. And that’s exactly why you find yourself sighing as you follow him, mentally preparing yourself for the talk.

You hate how he can always get his way. Walking up to the stand, you crack your knuckles in the pocket of your jacket, nervously coming up with possible arguments to tell him. I didn’t kiss you on purpose, it was an accident. I only did it to know how it feels. We are both supposed to be dead, it’s not my fault the world didn’t end like it was supposed to! Each sentence sounds more stupid than the previous one, and so with that, you shake your head, wiping the thoughts away, smiling at the elderly lady in the stand. You’re just gonna have to be honest, you figure. 

“Two hot chocolates, please.”

Rummaging through your pockets to find your wallet– you do owe Eric, so it’s only natural for you to pay– you’re caught off guard as the male next to you swiftly takes out his own and unzips it, preparing to pay for you. 

“I thought I owed you?” you mumble, hand reaching to tug at his forearm to stop him, to which Eric only grins at you and sighs.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to pay,” he says.

“I think that’s exactly what that means.”

“Just take it,” he huffs as he brings out a note from his wallet, the force making something else fly out and fall to the ground with it, having the boy swiftly crouch down and pick the item up, attempting to hide it before you get a chance to see. And now, you don’t have 20/20 vision, but you recognise your face when you see it– that, and you also recognize the small white sheet to be a polaroid picture, and as far as you’re aware, you’re the only one who has a camera in his circle.

The boy hands you the drink with red-tinted cheeks. The idea of him carrying a picture of you that he took back in September makes you flush as well, and when your gloved fingers accidentally meet as you take the cup from him, he forces out a laugh. “We can talk about that after you tell me why you’re avoiding me.”

His nonchalance has you relaxing only for a few seconds. The boy walks with you as you try to heat up your cold hands on the boiling surface of the cup, and when you see a bench a few meters away from you two, you instinctively take a seat.

“So?” he becomes you, eyebrows rising as he takes a sip from the melted sweetness.

Sighing, you try to come up with the best way to go around this. Do you apologize? Do you promise to never do it again– and you won’t, even though you want to so badly and his lips look surprisingly soft today? Furrowing your brows at the war in your head, you place the cup on the bench next to you and put your head into your hands, hiding away from him when you realize the only way to do this is to be completely, utterly honest.

“I’m just so embarrassed, Eric.”

The only noise meeting your eardrums in the moment is the faint yelling of the crowd sledding in the background, your companion remaining quiet for a bit. When he sees you won’t explain yourself, he goes ahead and asks the question. ���Why?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” you sigh, not believing his so casual composure.

“Maybe,” he laughs, the airy sound taking all breath away from your lungs.

Well, not all of it, since you have enough oxygen to go on a tangent, it seems. “Because I kissed you, goddamnit. And- and I don’t even know why I did it, honestly, I’ve never thought of kissing you before! It’s just- when I heard the world is ending, I realized I hadn’t had my first kiss yet, and that just felt like such a miserable way to die, and then you asked what I wanted to do before I die and I couldn’t think of anything else,” you say, progressively taking out your head from your hands and facing the male, big eyes staring into his soul. 

To your surprise, he doesn’t seem mad. Or disgusted. Or any of the reactions you expected, really. Eric stares at you with a soft, but amidst a little star-struck look in his eyes, and you’re suddenly painfully aware of every slight shift in his composure.

“Did you kiss me because you wanted to kiss me, or because you thought the world was gonna end?” he asks, awaiting your answer.

And if you’re being honest, 2 days after New Year’s Eve, you do admit the thought of the world actually ending sounds a bit stupid. Why did you even believe that theory? Why did they talk about it so seriously on the news? They tricked you into ruining your own life. 

But still, nothing can be done about it now. “Both,” you admit, shrugging, “I… I kissed you because I really didn’t want to die unkissed, but also… I wanted it to be you, y’know? Like… I thought we were really going to die, and so I thought kissing you might be a nice way to go. I really wanted to spend my last moments with you, I guess,” you sheepishly say, averting your gaze from the male.

Eric offers you his silence again after you’re done explaining. While you do admit you feel a little tense to hear what he has to say, you also realize you feel lighter now that it’s out in the universe and out of your system. A major weight was taken off your shoulders with the confession, and suddenly, you’re kind of glad that your friend was so assertive and insistent on talking about this– who knows how long you’d go before managing to face him. You think you could honestly go on… forever.

Taking a sip of the luscious liquid, you feel your body warm up once the anxiousness slips away from your bones. The boy next to you hums, making you face him with expecting eyes. “Then why were you avoiding me?”

Sighing, you shake your head. “I just told you. I’m starting to think you’re the one that’s bad at listening.”

“No,” he laughs, “that’s still you. Because if you were good at listening, you’d remember me telling you that I’ve never once seen you as my younger sister.”

Shrugging, kicking the pile of snow in front of you with the tip of your winter boots, you’re not quite following. “So?”

“So you should’ve realized that I’m not doing all of this,” he theatrically swings his arms around, “for nothing, you know?”

“All of what?”

“Taking care of you. Feeding you, helping you collect those stupid animal stickers, walking you home…” he mumbles, sighing. “Keeping your picture in my wallet,” he adds with a playful tone, making you smile.

“I thought you were just being a good friend,” you shrug.

“I don’t keep a picture of your brother on me at all times,” he says, tugging off his gloves. The sleeve of his jacket rides up a little as you watch him take his cup of hot chocolate off the bench, surprised (and flooded with warmth) to see the ugly friendship bracelet you made still adorning his wrist.

Grinning to yourself, excitement welcoming itself into the tips of your fingertips, you shrug. “So?” you mirror your own question from a little while ago, wanting him to say it to you instead of relying on your own brain– you think there’s still a possibility of you just being too delusional to see the reality for what it really is. You need to make sure you’re not imagining things.

“So,” he starts, sighing to himself as he turns a little in his seat to face you, “you should stop avoiding me, because I liked the kiss. And you. And we should probably do it again, because I didn’t get the chance to kiss you back the first time,” he says, once again taking all oxygen out of your lungs with the casualty of his preposition.

Locking his eyes with you, having you two staring at each other like two rays of sunshine warming up the cold January, he grins. “How does that sound?”

“Good,” you breathe out, “very good.”

The male takes it as an invitation as he scoots himself closer to you on the bench, his body turning a bit to face you. His free hand cups your cheek, leaning closer to lock his lips with you like he asked you to, your eyes fluttering close at the proximity, the fuzzy feeling in your stomach already expecting to kiss him again. The situation feels a little too idyllic to be real, though– you should’ve expected it to get ruined again.

Something cold and wet comes into contact with the side of your face, and when you sharply open your eyes, you see Eric staring at you with shock and terror in his eyes, the snow dripping down the side of his face as well. Whoever threw the snowball has good aim, you think– managing to target two people at once (even though your faces were that close to each other that it probably wasn’t even that hard), and before you get a chance to look around and see who cut off your kiss, there’s a scream coming from the left side of the two of you, the sound of feet quickly darting in the snow landing into your ears.

“Eric Sohn, what the fuck do you think you’re doing with my sister?” the voice hollers, and before you get a chance to react, the said male fastly stands up from the bench and runs to the other direction, laughter resonating all throughout the place as Sunwoo and his friends chase their shortest friend down.

Snow starts falling as you watch your brother tail his childhood friend, and with a foreign sense of warmth, you get reminded of the birthday wish you made while blowing out the candles on your seventh birthday.

You wished for someone just like Eric. You didn’t know the universe would be so kind to give you him instead.

[kyojurismo]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟔 : 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. +18 nsfw, 1.9k words, age difference (reader is in her 20s, satoru is in his 30s), top!satoru, dub-con, fingering, nipple play, degradation, not proofread + pls notify me if there’s something else to tag, i’ll fix it asap.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. hello dear readers. i know it took me a whole month to start posting something for my kinktober event, but life (and my depression) got in the way, so i wasn’t able to fully dedicate myself to writing (i take this opportunity to also remind y’all that 1. i do it as a hobby and 2. eng is not my first language). starting w day 6 bc i suddenly got the desire to write for satoru lol. well, that’s all from me now, i hope you guys will enjoy and please be sure to read the tags carefully !! ♡

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

satoru gojo was a close friend to your father, they worked together and sometimes he would invite satoru for dinner. he was charming and funny, so of course it never disturbed you. he also looked incredibly handsome, with those beautiful light blue eyes and white hair.

he looked so sad when you mentioned you were gonna move out for college, saying that he liked your young presence and your sense of humour, especially how you two often ended up talking about scary movies — a passion you two had in common.

you recently got back home, your father’s birthday was getting closer and you wanted to organise something to celebrate it, as long as help him decorate the house for halloween.

you weren’t exactly a fan of halloween costumes, more like you enjoyed the atmosphere and watching others dressing up as something.

you finished preparing yourself a snack when your phone started ringing, your father’s name appeared on screen.

“hey dad!”

“i’m gonna get home late tonight, i’m sorry baby. gotta catch up to some work, but we can watch the movie once i’m back if you’re not sleeping already. how does it sound?”

you took a couple of seconds to reply, because well — you’ve been looking forward to it for days, but you also knew that his job was important and that he couldn’t really left early because ‘he has some movie to watch’.

“yeah, sounds good. i’ll try my best to stay awake.”

“great! i asked satoru to pass by and check on you. i think he’ll bring something to eat too.”

“dad… i’m not fourteen, i don’t need a babysitter.”

“i know, i know. he just offered since it’s his day off.”

“whatever. see ya later.”

you hung up the phone and rolled your eyes. it was obvious your dad asked him to come over and check on you, but you didn’t mind it that much. he would leave quickly and you would end up having the rest of the evening all for yourself.

at least, that what you thought.

“i’m so surprised to see you,” you opened the door, sarcasm clear in your voice. you didn’t expect to see satoru dressed up as none other than the slender man. you chuckled, checking the mask a bit closer. “wow. you really got into it, huh?” satoru didn’t answer at first, playing the part before you rolled your eyes and walked back into the kitchen, leaving him there.

you heard the door closing a couple of seconds later, while grabbing your sandwich. satoru took off the mask and sighed deeply, glancing around the place. “what if it wasn’t me?” he sounded serious, concerned about your careless behaviour. “my father told me you were coming over to check on me, mr. babysitter.”

he rolled his eyes and put the bag with your food on the kitchen island, before looking at you. “what are you up to tonight?” he casually asked, watching you eating your sandwich in silence. you shrugged before meeting his eyes. “i’m gonna read or watch something, waiting for my dad to come home. what about you?” you smiled innocently, as if you didn’t have in plan to do a marathon of your favourite horror movies.

“dunno. my friend ditched me, so i’m all alone in this frightening night,” he pouted before smirking at your change of expression. “i’m talking about suguru, not your father.”

you rolled your eyes and pretended to be offended. you finished eating your sandwich and put the plate away. “well? are you leaving?” you asked him, making him gasp dramatically. “kids today are so poorly mannered! is this the right way to treat an old man?”

“you’re not that old, that’s also why i don’t get it how you became my father’s best friend in the first place,” satoru was around thirty years old, like ten years younger than your father. “i’m everyone’s favorite person,” he winked and you shook your head, chuckling. “you’re not, really.”

satoru looked offended and followed you into the living room, waiting for an apology. he got none. “whatever. can i stay over? maybe we can watch something together,” he asked you, genuinely interested in doing so. you thought about his offer, knowing that it wouldn’t hurt to have some company. “hm, okay. but i’m choosing,” you glanced at him while sitting down on the couch. “yeah, sure. just pick something scary.”

halfway through the movie, satoru started shifting towards you, making it look casual. you bit your inner cheek as your leg touched his, stiffening a little.

“scared?” he murmured during a moment of silence, you shook your head. “hm,” he licked his lips before looking at you, noticing how you were growing nervous.

in reality, he had been looking at you differently since earlier. you felt strange about it, but you tried to ignore it for your own good. maybe he just wanted to mess with you a little like he would usually do.

one of his hand reached your leg and started caressing your clothed thigh, you shivered and quickly glanced down at it as your heart skipped a beat. your attention was caught by the size of his hand, before you slowly looked at his face. satoru’s eyes were glued to the tv, causing you to turn towards it a bit too quickly.

were you misreading the whole situation or … ?

“satoru,” you gathered some courage to call him. “what is it?” his voice sounded deeper and you gulped louder than expected, causing a smirk to appear on his face. “what—” you gasped as his hand tightened its grip on your thigh before moving closer to your center. “hmm?” satoru finally turned to look at you, your heart pounding rapidly into your chest as he casually cupped your sex. you unconsciously clenched your thighs, trapping it between your legs.

“i’m sorry, this movie is becoming more and more boring,” he spoke casually, looking unbothered by the whole situation. he acted like he wasn’t touching your body at all.

your cheeks grew warmer, you tried to find the right words and ignore how it all was affecting your poor body. it was wrong, he was your father’s best friend and he was older than you. it was very wrong… right?

the way his hand was grinding on you caught your attention and you snapped out of it, grabbing his wrist to stop him. “we-we can’t do this… it’s wrong,” you murmured, pushing it away. “is it though? your body is telling me something else,” he chuckled and finally met your face. his gaze felt much more intimidating now, as he hungrily stared down at you.

you felt slick gathering in your underwear and you shifted uncomfortably on the couch, causing a low laugh to escape satoru’s lips. “now now, why lying?” he suddenly pulled you closer, sitting you on his lap. you could feel his erection right against your lower back, which caused your whole face to grow warmer.

“satoru, wait–” you tried to say something else before his hands pushed your legs apart, then his hands reached your chest and he grabbed your breasts, groping you experimentally. you bit back a moan, squirming under his touch. “sensitive, hm?” he went to pinch your nipples, playing with your boobs as he liked.

a sparkle of excitement filled your guts, even though a part of you knew it wasn’t right, some other was trying to convince you to give in and let him touch you. he was an experienced man for sure, different from other college students. a part of you was also craving some well deserved release. you tilted your head back, closing your eyes. you jumped as his hands slapped your thighs, making you shiver and moan softly.

“i wanna hear every sound coming from your little mouth, you got that little slut?” satoru spoke right into your ear as one of his hands slipped under your shirt while the other sneaked into your leggings, starting to caress your clothed clit. his hands were cold compared to your actual body temperature, and that caused another shiver to run down your body.

“this is wrong,” you whispered, more for yourself. he smirked and rubbed your clit faster, his hand finding a way to slip under your bra and finally touch your hardened nipple. your will to fight the moans caused by the pleasure provided by his skilled hands left your body and you finally gave in.

you moaned as satoru pushed two fingers into your wet channel, taking advantage of how much wet you were already. his long fingers were able to reach spots you couldn’t, which made your stomach turn as whimpers escaped your parted lips. “you’re this wet for your father’s friend, hm? and those sounds, that some real slutty behaviour,” satoru’s tone was completely different from before, he kept speaking — degrading, you while his fingers worked inside your cunt, thrusting deeply and hitting the perfect spot to make your toes curl and cause your back to arch, unconsciously pushing your chest into his hand. “what are you, some college whore now?” his lips kissed right under your ear, biting your neck softly before licking your shivering skin.

“n-no,” you tried to argue back, your hand grabbed his wrist desperately as you grew close to your climax. “no? then why are you this wet? you enjoy getting manhandled and fucked, huh?” satoru’s movements never faltered. “the way you’re clenching on my fingers tells me you like being degraded too.”

you were too embarrassed to reply to any of his accusations, but also too focused on the incoming orgasm. you tried to clench your thighs together as your pussy spasmed around his fingers, gushing hard as you finally came while crying his name.

you sobbed when his thumb massaged your pulsing clit, making you jolt in his lap and almost hitting his chin with your head. he chuckled at your reaction, deciding to play with you for a couple of seconds more before finally leaving your poor pussy alone.

as his hands finally resurfaced from inside your clothes, you clearly saw him licking his fingers clean, groaning softly at the taste. he seemed satisfied even though you were the only one who had the privilege to have an orgasm that night.

“well, little star,” satoru moved your body off of him and placed you back in your previous position, you were still a bit dizzy from what just happened. “time to go,” he got up and stretched, before turning to look at you. “you should change yourself, hm?” he glanced at your ruined leggings before cupping your cheek with his large palm, caressing your warm skin. “i’m proud of my little slut,” he murmured before tracing your lips with his thumb, smirking at you. “goodnight,” he then patted your head and walked towards the main door, opening and closing it in a swift motion. he left as if nothing happened, he didn’t asked if you enjoyed it or not — your cunt sure did. your head was filled with too many thoughts at once. it was alright, it was wrong, it felt good, he knows how to treat a woman, he’s an asshole, it was so hot.

then one single thought filled your mind, causing you to fall back against the cushion of the couch. you found yourself staring at some random point in front of you.

satoru gojo, one of your father’s best friends, made you cum with his fingers… and it felt a bit too good.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @naomi-nana @euphiroo @eynnwwyjth @titantears @plast3c @katsuslover

[boolger]

I’m dangerous ☆ chapter 1 ☆ COD fanfic

Originally posted on my AO3, where I post all my stuff. Always read the tags of my fanfics. MDNI

[chapter 1] ☆[chapter 2] ☆ [chapter 3] ☆ [chapter 4] ☆ [chapter 5]☆ [chapter 6] ☆[chapter 7]

☆ fem!reader x Kate Laswell ☆ explicit. MDNI. ☆ 1/10 ☆ 1,843 words

☆ Summary: You were a hacker and had been a thorn in the side of the 141 gang for a while, in particular as you tried to find out who the famous leader, Watcher, was. But they refuse to be blackmailed and won’t pay you.

So, to prove that you weren’t just bluffing, but were a serious threat to them, you kidnapped a random woman that you saw coming out from one of their meetings, figuring she was a secretary or girlfriend or something.

Oh, how wrong you were.

☆ Tags: au mob, gang, kidnapping, blackmailing, dub-con, angst, smut, death, grief/mourning, hacking, non-con drug use, bondage, spanking, kissing, rough sex, inaccurate portrayal of mob, more will be added.

☆ note: I’m trying to keep the reader’s appearance vague, but she is afab, chubby and has shoulder length hair. ☆ As for plot – I’m not sure if I saw the post on tumblr or tiktok and I cant find it lol, but it mentioned reversing the more classic fanfic plots. So for example, the main character isn’t kidnapped by a mob boss - but kidnaps the mob boss. So, that is what I started with and then I will freestyle along the way. ☆ There will be mention of chronic illness and death of a character, not a main one, but the reader's little sister, but I try not to go into details about the illness aspect (since I don’t know too much about that). There will be focus on grief and the loss of a sibling however, so if that triggers or makes you uncomfortable, maybe don’t read this one. ☆ dubious consent in the later chapters, that might border to non-con. ☆ Badly described hacking. I don’t know shit about hacking, I've studied things in the humanities category the last six years. So if a bad understanding of tech makes you upset, I'm sorry.

Being a hacker wasn’t as glamorous as you had expected when you were younger. After everything with your sister, you had expected things to change, sure, but not into this. Everything was even more of a mess than before and somehow you got into blackmailing. Which, well… When you hit the right people, it paid well.

And sure, you had felt strong at first. Like you were invincible, a vigilante who blackmailed rich and awful people. You needed the money more than them, after all. Yet, the clock kept ticking and you needed more money fast. You needed more money to pay the last of your debts off and run away.

Which was how you ended up like this, blackmailing the mob.

The 141 gang was infamous on the streets of London. Most people knew who you talked about and those who didn’t, were often tourists or recently moved to the town. Whether they were hated or loved, really depended on who you asked. Some people said they made their areas safer, so they now had less crimes - others said they were horrendous bastards, who acted above the law. In truth, you didn’t really care. You weren’t a model citizen yourself, running around and blackmailing people. All you cared about was the fact that they had money, lots of it and they were easy to blackmail, since they didn’t want to be exposed.

Now, threatening them with the local police? Wouldn’t do much, it had to be to everybody – and then all the journalists too. Sure, you didn’t really have the energy to mass email out all the proof you had, but the 141 didn’t need to know that. You had them believe that you were a small group of people anyways and not just… you.

You, out in the almost empty house, over 50 miles away from London. It was much more lonely out here now. Half a year ago, you and your sister lived out here in peace, happy with how everything was going despite her illness flaring up now and again.

Now it was empty and lonely. Sometimes, when the wind hit the house at the right angle, you could hear the cars from the nearby motorway.

Alas, the 141 thought you were a big and bad group of hackers, threatening to take their kingdom down - and sure, you had a lot of stuff of theirs that could be bad in the wrong hands. You had papers, screenshots and recordings from when you hacked into different security cameras. You had traced a lot of them too, you had evidence.

Now they just needed to pay.

So far, they hadn’t really been fun to play with. They refused, saying that you were bluffing. Saying that if they saw you, they were going to kill you, which wasn’t really nice of them. You doubted they couldn’t survive without 60,000 pounds. Sure, it was a lot of money - but you needed them too. A bit more, you dared to think. And for a whole mobster empire? Seemed like a good deal to you.

Besides, you were so curious that you wanted to die: Who was their boss? Nobody knew. Everyone had ideas and theories, sure, but the famous Watcher was still unknown, even to you - which bothered you so much. You had your own theories, your main one was that this Watcher was really just John Price.

No matter who the Watcher was - and how good your deal was - they were just so fucking stubborn. So, you needed to prove that you were serious. You didn’t really have the time to mess around and send them more photos or shit, so according to movies you saw - and google - it was time to step up.

Go from hacker to kidnapper. Which really hadn’t been a career plan of yours, but here you were.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

You had tracked one of them, the Scot that everyone called Soap, so that you could follow them from a distance. You weren’t stupid enough to actually try to shadow them. Despite them not hanging around the finest streets of London, your beat up van stuck out sometimes.

Plans? Sure, you had… some of those. At least, you knew what not to do.

First of all - You weren’t going to take Price, people were around him all the time anyways and if he was the leader as you suspected, that wouldn’t go well.

Secondly, all his men were out of the picture too. At least those who always hang around him, because some of their biceps were bigger than your face.

Third, you had to avoid a proper fight - so that meant waiting for the right moment. You had a taser, duct tape and you had some strong sedatives. You were going to hack your way out of fighting.

Fourth and final point so far - get away as fast as possible. You weren’t going to stick around.

So just… wait for the right person, then tase, inject, duct tape, drive away. It was fine. You had all the components, you just needed to put it all together, then blackmail the group, get the money, drop off the person and then get away.

Your van was blue and rusty, the engine was loud and all the back seats were taken out, since you had lived in it for a little while, outside the hospital. The mattress you used to have in the back was pulled away, since you needed it for the captive to sleep on inside the house. They would have to deal with being on the car floor for the trip - they would most likely be sedated anyways. Now there was just some trash in the back of the car that you should probably have cleaned up, but didn’t care to, since the car bore bad memories - as well as some small electronic pieces that you had picked up here and there, thinking you would need to use it for experiments.

As the group came to a stop at a pub you knew they went to sometimes, you went behind it and parked next to a bigger car, which hid your van a little. Then you waited.

You wore some of your more discreet clothing. The baby-metal band t-shirts were hidden beneath a grey hoodie, with the least monster energy drink stains on, and a pair of rugged jeans. If your sister had been here she would have rolled your eyes at you and said you looked like a teenager trying to be rebellious - and not a 25-year old woman. You missed being told that. Your hair was hanging loosely, hoping it would hide your face a little. Your septum piercing was tipped up and hidden, and you had changed your usual silver tongue piercing for a clear one. Though you doubted that it was your tongue piercing that would be damning evidence.

After waiting about 25 minutes you crawled over the seats rather inelegantly, opening the sliding door to turn towards the other car, for some fresh air.

You were tired, yet stressed at the same time. It was unnecessarily stressful to kidnap somebody, especially when you didn’t really want to.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It was about a power nap and 30 minutes later, when you were ripped from your thoughts at the sounds of the back door opening and a female voice telling somebody that she needed her cigarettes. You tipped your head forward a little, seeing how she closed the backdoor behind her.

You had seen her before. She seemed to be near the others a lot of the time.

She looked in her 40s, with light brown hair that almost looked a little blond in the rare sunlight of London. Nicely dressed, a confident smile on her face as she pulled her car keys from her bag and the car right next to you lit up.

Maybe a girlfriend? Wife? Secretary?

No matter what, the chance was too good to be true.

Somehow you managed to catch her off guard as she seemed more focused on finding her cigarettes as she opened her car door – so that was when you struck, tasing her. Everything happened so fast - yet not fast enough at the same time.

You pushed the needle into her skin, as she groaned, clearly a little confused from being tased - and most likely from hitting your car floor - as soon as the contents were injected you pulled the needle out again. The woman groaned and grabbed your wrist, mumbling something. You pushed it off, grabbing the roll of duct tape you had prepared, pushing her onto her stomach. She wasn’t going without a fight though and you wanted to cry as she managed to pull her hand free. You needed the bloody drug to kick in this minute.

You sat down on her back, your weight useful - the work of wrapping her wrists together was honestly shit. YouTube made it look so much easier.

You ignored her as she began to curse you out. grabbing her bag, emptying the content on the floor of the car, eyes constantly flickering to her. She seemed confused - so you focused. There was an Apple air tag in it, that you hurriedly picked up. There was no phone though. You wanted to throw up, this was taking longer than it should.

She tried sitting up, having rolled onto her back again, your eyes meeting. Hers were cloudy, while yours were focused. You pushed her down again, hands running over her jacket. The moment your hand touched the familiar shape of a phone, your hand dug into the pocket, not even trying to be nice about it. She was mumbling about how what you were doing was wrong, but you didn’t need to be told that.

As soon as you got the phone, you got up and crawled in between the front seats, sitting down and starting the car. You needed to get the hell out of here, now.

The sound of the shitty engine drowned out her complaints. You drove off as quickly as you could, throwing her phone and the AirTag out in a couple of bushes that the car passed.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It was several minutes later that you concluded that nobody was following you, which made you breathe a little easier.

As you waited for the green light, you looked over your shoulder, taking in the sight of the woman on the floor of your car, in between empty monster cans, cables and small electronics. She was laying quietly, but you could see her chest moving.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? You could feel an anxiety attack crawling along your ribs, threatening to overwhelm you.

As soon as the money was transferred, you dropped her off again - and then you could run, somewhere up north. Start somewhere fresh, where you don't know anybody. Where the 141 or bad memories couldn’t find you. Maybe get a dog.

First things first, however. You needed to get this whole kidnapping thing done.

[chuuyascumsock]

Hot Cocket || Minors DNI

I just realized I never posted my Dazai fucking a hot pocket fic on here. If the Ao3 babes had to suffer, y’all do too LMAO.

Summary: Ah, yes, welcome to the bullshit that I call “art”. Today’s episode: Dazai fucks a Hot Pocket. Don’t ask me what gave me this idea, my friend came up with it so thank him for this utter monstrosity. I suppose I’ll take the smallest bit of credit for wanting to write a crackfic of Dazai sticking his dick in something he shouldn’t— because it’s called having a sense of humor.

Tags: Dazai Osamu/Hot Pocket, I talk about how dazai would definitely be a ham and cheese hot pocket kind of a guy, I make kind of weird metaphorical jokes, If Asagiri gets to blow children up then I can throw them into traffic, descriptions of fucking a hot pocket, descriptions of burning the dick (because he’s fucking a HOT pocket), um… creampie in a hot pocket..?, oh— and then Fyodor eats the hot cum pocket lol.

Dazai had been feeling particularly lonely on a Saturday night.

Without any women around to woo with his unhinged rizz, Dazai sought after a cheap comfort food he often turned to in his crippling depressive times. The freezer flings open with a creak to reveal the godly image of a box of hot pockets. As expected— nothing else resided in the freezer other than said hot pockets because Dazai was as broke as a medical college student in debt.

Dazai reaches a bandaged hand inside before grasping the box and pulling it close to his chest. He could already feel saliva pooling in his mouth as he re-lived his previous encounters and tastes of his hot pockets. But this one was different. This one was pepperoni. Normally, Dazai was a ham and cheese kind of guy, but they had been barren of any ham and cheese hot pockets. It made him sad to think about, but it also brought rejoice as he could finally try another flavor of hot pocket.

Dazai is quick to tear the box’s top off and reach a hand inside to grab the frozen snack pocket out. Even in a plastic wrapping, he could still smell the permeating waft of garlic and herbs. He fumbled around the kitchen as he ripped the plastic off and put the snack into the small cardboard pocket, basically throwing the hot pocket into the microwave like you would throw a small child into oncoming traffic.

Not really giving a fuck, Dazai punches the microwave which some how starts a two minute timer and the hot pocket starts spinning in small, grueling long circles. His eyes stare into the microwave’s glass window, taking in the way the hot pocket slowly warms up.

Deep down, Dazai wished to be a hot pocket. Because he, too, wished to be cooked in a microwave. What a way to go out.

It feels like eternity until the microwave beeps loudly to signify that the slutty— I mean tasty treat is done cooking. His eyes light up and Dazai takes the hot pocket out of the microwave. “It’s… It’s beautiful…” He whispers tearfully as the hot pocket steams from the packet. Realizing how hot it was the next few seconds after, he tosses it between his hands and onto the counter gently, “Ow— hot, hot— ahhhh.”

Staring at the hot pocket, Dazai begins to drool excessively— oh, and he was hard. Dude got a raging boner from looking at this hot pocket too long. Just like me fr.

“Aw man, now I’m super horny…” He whines as he looks down at his tightened slacks. He thinks for a moment before he looks back to the hot pocket and gets an idea.

The hot pocket steamed in need of his ACHING COCK (I can see you cringing behind that screen, Guac <3). Or at least that’s how Dazai took it because of how horny he was. “You want me, don’t you?” He grins at the hot pocket with desire— only getting a soft puff of steam in return and a whiff of garlic that made him twice as hard.

Eager to get off now, Dazai unzips his slacks and pushes them down enough to have access to the hot pocket. His accurate sized dick of three inches— I mean— his monster cock slapped against his stomach as he wasn’t wearing underwear because it’s canon that he goes commando. Dazai then took the hot pocket and brought it to his lips before taking a slow bite. And in typical Dazai fashion— he moaned loud enough for the entire apartment complex to hear and got several noise complaints which all went to Kunikida’s answering machine.

“My god, you’re such a slutty tease,” Dazai groans, swallowing the cold ass bite that’s always at the end of the hot pocket. Pushing at the sides with his fingers, the hot pocket opens to reveal its gooey melted cheese and sloppy pizza sauce insides with the occasional chunks of pepperoni. Dazai stroked his cock until he had spread enough precum along his length, though it’s questionable as to why he would as he’s fucking a hot pocket pussy and not actual pussy because he gets none.

Wasting no more time, Dazai slid his dick into the scalding hot pocket and screamed from the pain of literal lava burning the skin of his dick. But he kept trekking through the feeling, because he’ll be damned having his dick blistered by some hot pizza sauce and melting mozzarella chunks ruin him from being horny enough to fuck a microwaveable snack. “Yeah, you like that you dirty, saucy whore?” He grunted, uncaring of the melted cheese and pizza sauce sticking to his now blistering cock.

As this poor hot pocket was being violated like no one’s business, Kunikida was sobbing himself to sleep after getting multiple detailed complaints about how loud Dazai was being while he was aggressively fucking a hot pocket like I did to your mom last night.

“I’m gonna turn you into a toaster strudel, baby,” Dazai moaned loudly, thrusting harder into the hot pocket before filling it to the brim with his cum. “That’s it, take my seed you cheesy whore…” He panted, pulling his dick out of the cum stuffed hot pocket. It took a few moments until he realized the damage that the hot pocket had done to his dick as he looked down to see the various red burn spots and blistering skin covered in pizza sauce, cheese, and pepperoni. “Now I’m going to need bandages for my dick…” He sighed, tossing the hot pocket aside like they didn’t have a special bond. “Well, I’m not hungry anymore, my dick hurts… Time to stick it in some ice cream~” Dazai trailed off to get Kunikida’s credit card to go buy and defile yet another item of food.

As the hot pocket sat on the ground oozing with cum, a rat squeaked and scampered by before sniffing the hot pocket. Deemed worthy enough to take it back to its master, the rat dragged the hot pocket into a mouse hole and scrambled through the walls of the apartments until it made its way outside and into a manhole. Making its way through the sewers, the rat finally arrives at its master.

“What is this?” A Russian accent echoes through the sewers. Slender hands pick up the rat and the hot pocket, Fyodor looking at both with a questionable gaze. The rat squeaks to communicate with the Russian joker and squirms out of his grasp to scatter off to its family.

“A toaster strudel, you say? I’ve never seen such a thing, incredible…” Fyodor doesn’t even bother to take a good look at the hot pocket to see the fluids dripping out of it before he takes a large bite and chews. His face scrunches up— but he keeps eating because man is anemic and refuses to eat anymore of his belly button lint to survive.

“What a strange tasting toaster strudel…”

[tornprince]

Hey, so not to leap into your ask box as a total stranger, but you mentioned in the tags that you were willing to answer questions about phalloplasty. I’m still figuring out if I want it, and if it’s not an inconvenience, I’d like to hear about what it’s like, or any common misconceptions or things you’d be ok with sharing. You don’t have to answer it publicly if you don’t want to, or answer at all. No pressure!

Howdy, I’d be happy to! This turned out a lot longer than I thought it would so sorry for the little essay lol

Since there are a lot of little variations on phalloplasty both in the type you get and the “stages” I’ll explain that first.

I got RFF/forearm flap phalloplasty with urethral lengthening, clitoral burial and a full vaginectomy. My first surgery was a hysterectomy and partial vaginectomy, about 6 months after that I got the phallo itself, urethra lengthening and the rest of the vaginectomy, and then a couple weeks after that I got glansplasty. I’m scheduled to get the erectile and testicular implants later this month. All of this was covered by insurance.

I am overall extremely happy with my phallo, it’s really been everything I could have wanted. I’ll just give a kind of random run down of some things:

Healing: If you count the time for all of the above surgeries I took roughly 2 and a half months off work. 2 weeks for the hysto/vaginectomy, 6 weeks for the phallo and another 2 for the glansplasty. I’ll be taking a week off for the next one.

I spent 5 days in the hospital after the phallo, those were by far the roughest days. Like the first day after surgery the big thing they had me do was just sit up in bed, and even that made me feel very dizzy and sick.

By far the most painful parts of healing were the vaginectomy and the thigh graft. I had a catheter for 6 weeks which was a pain in the ass, and the forearm graft needs daily dressing changes for several weeks. Once you get past those first few days though, it’s kind of surprising how not terrible it is. I was walking my dog after like 3 weeks.

The part that has the highest complication rate is the urethral lengthening, I was told by my urologist that the percentage of urethral complications after surgery was somewhere between 60-70%, I was basically told to go into surgery kind of just expecting there would be some sort of urethral complication.

This did happen to me and I got a stricture (urethra healing tight enough you can’t pee through it) twice. The first time they fixed it while I was getting the glansplasty, the second time I had to go in for an extra minor surgery to fix it. Since then I have had no issues.

Here is what my urologist had to say about the urethral complications when I asked for details: in quite a few cases they just heal on their own with a little additional time using a catheter and they never need surgical intervention. He said if it ever became necessary, they could just “disconnect” the new urethra and have you go back to peeing the way you did before surgery.

He also stated that they had never had that happen and had always been able to get the new plumbing working, even if in some cases it took longer.

Sensation: I did not lose any clitoral sensation, it’s just buried in the base of the phallus so you have to kind of rub/squeeze harder to get there. I was able to orgasm as soon as I was cleared for sexual stimulation after surgery, which I believe was 2 months?

My surgeon said that although the degree of sexual sensation a person has after surgery can vary, they had never had anybody completely lose sensation or be unable to orgasm after surgery.

I won’t get too detailed on this public post but it has been less than a year since my phallo and I have enough sexual sensation on my penis to orgasm just from it being touched, the buried clitoris doesn’t have to be stimulated (though it does help!)

Visual: I don’t have too much to say here but I’ve often seen people say that phallo dicks “look weird” or whatever. Mine looks….like a normal penis. It has been seen by many people of all genders and sexualities and nobody has ever said anything was off about it.

Really there is enough natural variation in native penises that I don’t think you’d end up with anything that wouldn’t be possible on someone born with a penis.

Hope this was helpful! If you have follow up questions feel free to bug me

[heytherecentaurs]

The revelation about Emily reading TLT made my mind spinning about whether she'd be a necromancer or a cavalier and I can't help but arrive at the conclusion that Emily's a necromancer who swings the rapier around because she's not going to be limited by expectations and Murph as her cav is there mostly to help her keep up appearances when meeting other necromancers lol

Murph as her cav who is sorta just her personal assistant would be funny. I could also see it as he’s actually an exceedingly gifted swordsman but his devotion to her eclipses his ego so you never know just how good he is until later. For most of it you think he’s just the guy that fetches her tea and coordinates her schedule. I also think Emily would really commit to the creepy necromancer vibes. And Murph is so good at playing a dutiful and subservient soldier. I have no doubt he’d crush it.

In the tags of the original post by @paladinfigueroth they suggested Siobhan as the necromancer and Emily as her cav. And I really like that pairing too.

As seen in the last stand Siobhan is exceptional at playing spellcasters. (Either woman with spells is a problem for a dm.) Emily as strictly a fighter would be really cool. We don’t see that often. And I loved Jet in ACoC and would love to see her play a fighter again. Plus, I think she would slay in her closet cosplay leaning into more militaristic and formal outfits—I’m talking vests, epaulettes, high collars. Not to mention Siobhan and Emily have played quite a few dynamics but not love interests and it would be cool to see them tackle something that’s both toxic yuri but devoted with an intensity bordering on sacredness. It’s TLT so the divine and profane must intersect in the most violent concurrent and heart-wrenchingly fucked up beautiful ways. I don’t think I’d trust anyone more to do that than those two, given how well they communicate at the table and behind the scenes. (Like how they checked in with each other after sessions with Ruby and Saccharina.)

If it’s an Intrepid Heroes campaign and everyone at the table is paired off to be necros and cavs, I’m pitching Siobhan/Emily, Ally as necro and Murph as their cav, and pairing Zac and Lou together (idk who is the necro and cav in this one) because I want a Colin/Deli redux.

If it’s a side quest I need Aabria in there because I think @quiddie could be the most terrifying necromancer. She’s such an amazing and intense actor, and when she uses that quiet, lower register, authoritative voice and it has such a sense of dominance and aggression contained within it, it’s so scary.

I’ve really rambled here. The idea of a TLT/D20 season is just really fun to think about. Especially because I’m a big fan of both (and naddpod, where Emily originally mentioned GtN).

[chibishortdeath]

I don’t remember which picmix I’ve posted yet, but I just remembered just how many I have— So have a dump of Castlevania related ones :3!!!!!

Putting them under a cut for ⚠️flashing, eyestrain, flickering⚠️ and I’ll probably rant about them or something too!

RENON!!! High key underrated shop keeper honestly. Also is color scheme was very fun to work with :3. Not a lot of backgroundless PNGs of him out there tho, so I had to improvise by putting frames around the massive white boxes some pictures had.

There are a lot of goofy things on the Grant one, please look at this like it’s an I Spy book lol. And yes I know he’s not actually a pirate, but there’s a couple pirate like things in there.

This one is old enough that I think I probably posted it before, but eh whatever can’t hurt XD. Christopher is politely making sure the amount of images is an even number 👍. Also Jerma is in the corner of this one for some reason— yeah—

I made this one to use on discord :). And also because Picmix had a contest for the color gold and I was making an Alucard image anyway and yeah. Gold and sparkly! Anyway, Alucard is wishing you sweet dreams (^^ ).

I unironically love this one, I think judgement Simon (and really Simon in general) deserves more emo gif collages. I do wish I could’ve put a couple more tiny gifs, but my computer was almost crashing and I had to just save it really fast as not to lose the whole thing (ToT). Yeah but Simon should be allowed to have a MySpace page I think—

Another Simon! I have so many. I will make another. Brb, flooding the Simon tag with picmixes. ε=ε=ε=ε=ε=ε=┌( ￣◇￣)┘

MARIA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I actually think this one turned out so nice, the white flower background worked out way better than expected X3. It was really fun looking up things to reference each of the divine beasts too, although it was hard to find a picture of a blue turtle lol.

And finally one with my own fanart and oh my goodness do I need to make artwork to put onto picmix more often, it is so fun to do. I did it cause there was a fanart competition on there and I knew I had the picture of that drawing on my laptop, but competition or not, I recommend it :3. Also thinking about the vibes I was going for in the original piece through putting little gravestones and angel statues on it was cool, I hope the original gave off those vibes! Picmix also has a lot of nice random quotes to put on things as well!

I have not Castlevania ones too and I’ll probably post those shortly d(>.< )! Okie bye—

[monstersinthecosmos]

i love you asexuality in the VC post! i feel like i don't see people talk about the ace aspect of those books often, even though that was something that really spoke to me so much when i first read them (tbh it also makes me a little burned out to see some adaptations focus so much on the sex too because part of me is like. but i /liked/ the asexuality of it all! that wasn't a bug it was a feature!!)

I can’t always tell why we don’t talk about it more often; sometimes it feels like it’s so obvious that it goes unsaid, and other times I think ace folks in fandom are just so shy to bring it up because historically people have been such rancid cunts about it? I’m not sure.

But again and again, every time I make asexual VC posts, I get so many people commenting, tagging, DM’ing, inboxing to thank me or tell me they feel seen, and that’s what we need more of! 

It’s hard because like, I understand why visual adaptations feel the need to show it visibly, especially because I think it’s easy to forget that asexuality is already so heavily misunderstood/underdiscussed IN the queer community itself, and when we see this bullshit on TUMBLR of all places it tells me that even inside the queer echo chamber we are struggling for visibility. So I don’t expect mainstream audiences and ~ regular people ~ to understand it at all. I also fully respect the politics behind SHOWING SEX and being loud about it. I think that’s very much needed in the current political climate.

There’s a discussion to be had about non-sexual intimacy and split attraction models though; for example, we could also visually communicate with kissing and casual intimacy, touching, cuddling, etc, and the nature of TV and using sex to sell means that it’s not enough. And when you see an adaptation on a network that can’t use graphic sex anyway, it winds up being a lot of telling and not showing, so by that point I wonder why they can’t just be more casually intimate. 

It goes back to the misunderstanding in the books, too, like, the non-sexual romance and intimacy, even the vampire-sensual intimacy isn’t subtext. Not fucking doesn’t make the queerness subtext. It just means they’re not fucking, and I think when fans insist otherwise we’re getting into “all queer people are obsessed with sex” rhetoric that’s extremely problematic, and if you’re keeping score it’s the current talking point of the right to try to erase our existence in public. But the way this gets weaponized within fandom (on both sides) is just so fucking tired lmao. 

The whole conversation can be a huge bummer and I have interacted with tons of ace folks in this fandom over the years and everyone felt the same way about the canon asexuality and appreciated it and felt seen, etc. Especially older fans who didn’t know what asexuality was and likely felt alienated or were made to feel broken. So I just would love if people could discuss it without punching down at ace people and taking away like, the one fucking thing we had lol, and it would also be great if defensive ace folks didn’t overcorrect and try to center sexlessness as a moralizing tool, because it isn’t. I think when we start weaponizing and trying to arm ourselves by turning orientation into ethics we’re losing the plot. I think sometimes allos punch back and get defensive because they think we’re saying they’re gross for wanting to see sex or whatever and that’s not really the point. 

Personally, I read the books young enough that I always felt very supported by them, like I experienced the same confusion and worry about being broken but also the books were such a source of comfort because I was like, oh I just appreciate people the way vampires do.

Anyway it also provides so much rich extra context and framing for some of the characters and their intentions and can inform so much more meta. Like, examining themes of rape (vampire/biting rape vs literal rape) there’s so much to unpack about intention and desire when vampires see humans as food, when pleasure is about thirst and feeding and survival and nourishment and not only about sexual gratification. It just adds a whole other layer to discuss and I think that enhances the stories a lot. And like I said earlier, I understand that reducing it to “asexuality” as a human construct might seem as reductive as reducing it strictly to sex, but I hope one day people can build their cases against it without being so dismissive of ace people because it’s really recognizable and prominent in the text.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC Writer of the Month: the-pale-goddess

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @the-pale-goddess! We hope you will enjoy learning more about her and her work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: the-pale-goddess Blog Masterlist

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played? 

I downloaded Choices in an extremely terrifying moment of my life in late 2019. I was seeing the ads everywhere and thought that this game might serve as a fairly decent distraction. Well, I wasn’t wrong skfjksjfk 

I’m not sure which one was actually the first, but it was either the default TRR or Save The Date promoted at that time. 

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

My obsession with Open Heart and Ethan Ramsey tied nicely with the release of the second book in 2020. The lockdown allowed me to explore this fictional world further, so I started looking for more content. I found the legendary Denise, aka @justanotherrookie, while lurking on IG. That’s when my long-forgotten Tumblr account came to my mind, and I logged in with the intention of scrolling through the tags to satisfy my EJR thirst.

3- How did you pick your blog name? 

Oh, dear…It’s very silly! My skin is extremely pale and I have always been obsessed with music; hence the combo. 

Fun fact: this account is quite old (though still not as old as my tumbroke card; I had like three other accounts before this one), and I was slightly embarrassed to enter a new fandom with my dusty aesthetic blog signed by some ominous name, but decided to go with the flow. Then the-pale-goddess has become my brand, and it was too late for any changes–anyone who has changed their URL knows how problematic blogging is afterward.

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!  

My first fandom post was inspired by the frustrating ending of the softball chapter AND the first hiatus announcement…It didn’t age well. As we all know, Ethan & MC didn’t ‘talk about it.’ What’s more, we had to survive a long OH drought before PB decided to resume the second book. 

Three years later, the very same shitpost is still the most popular Choices post on my silly little blog lol

5- How long have you been writing fanfiction?

3 years, fanfiction is my pandemic baby! Though I’ve been writing since I was a kid, it was mostly poetry and never in English. But as time passed, I got more occupied with my teenage life and eventually lost motivation to write. That old passion resurfaced several years later, at the beginning of the pandemic. Apart from the obvious need for distraction from the COVID situation, I was frustrated that my English skills were getting rusty, so I decided to dive in. 

6- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about?

No surprise here: Open Heart (the first book) and Open Heart 😂 I never tried writing about any other Choices book. 

7- Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

Miami Heat aka my smutty Miami AU. The concept is brilliant, but the execution…Yikes! I often think of rewriting the entire thing because the writing is amateur at best and my inner perfectionist cringes whenever I think of this mini-series.  

8- What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

It all depends on my mood, so here’s a list of my favorites!

9- Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

Cabin Fever - apparently this 69 plotless smut is iconic for some reason? I don’t really get the hype. It has an insane amount of kudos on ao3, my other fics can’t compare lol 

Burnt - Book 1 mutual pining E&T classic and one of my absolute favorites (we’re talking top 3); it could definitely use a little more love!

10- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? 

I’ll shock you all and say that I wish I could write fluff for the rest of my life kjgkdgjkdf But since I suck at it, I’d love to be stuck with angst and a dash of smut. 

It’s probably a sad thing to admit, but I feel the most comfortable while writing angst. The realism of pain and the emotions that follow are simply very familiar, and it’s easy for me to conjure up a creative image to match the idea. Besides, there’s so much to explore in the angsty realm: all the flavor, nuance, layers, and symbolism. The possibilities are endless!

Smut doesn’t need an explanation, does it? I live on the thirst street 🤡

11- Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

I do. That’s probably why Open Heart got me sucked right in–OH MC felt very real and relatable, I couldn’t help but see bits of myself in her. Though we share many traits and experiences, Tiffany definitely isn’t an extension of me. I poured my heart and soul into this woman, but she has become her own person and I try to avoid self-projecting into her character unless there’s a clear purpose. 

12- What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Recently, I have been struggling with writing in general lol The internet is ruthless!

My biggest issue is that self-loathing perfectionist who doesn’t let me enjoy the process, nothing seems to be good enough for her, and that attitude dims my motivation and hinders creativity.

On a more technical note, I absolutely suck at describing basic movement. I could churn out a long essay on a character’s internal struggle explaining the most complex emotions or a 4K elaborate smut, but when it comes to finding the right words to portray the simplest action, like walking down the stairs or setting the scene for an early morning conversation at the hospital, I feel lost kdhdkhdkdb 

13- Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Pretty much all of my WIPs are neglected 🤡 But here are the most important projects I’m hoping to finish at some point in the not-too-distant future: 

Home With You AU

Past, Present, Future

My Way Home Is Through You

14- If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first? 

Since fanfic is based on an existing work of fiction, and the core plotlines and characters should be well-known to the readers, I guess it could be a tedious and confusing read for someone who isn’t involved in the fandom. But then I have received comments from people unfamiliar with OH who have stumbled upon my fics and gave them a chance, so maybe I’m wrong lol 

I like to think that I would be okay with sharing my works with someone I know and trust in real life, but let’s be honest: my crippling anxiety would stop me ksjfkjssd However, if I were to pick a fic rec, I’d choose Heaven Upside Down AU because it doesn’t need an extensive OH knowledge. Plus, I’m very proud of this series.

15 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing? 

While I try to keep my writing style unique and simply mine, there are three lovely ladies who had a huge impact on my writing journey:

@writinghereandthere (aka an actual genius and my writing role model) was the direct source of inspiration behind my fanfic revelation. I fell in love with Ethan and Mariana, Ana’s beautiful prose, her wit, unparalleled talent, and fantastic characterization. Her writing changed the trajectory of my life. Though she left the fandom long ago, her masterlist is a must-read for everyone, trust me! (Ana, if you’re reading this: I miss you more than words can convey. Sorry for the spam I leave in your inbox every now and then skgjksgjk Hope to hear about your original work soon ❤️)

@starrystarrytrouble & @terrm9 - these two literary geniuses have inspired me to follow my own writing path and develop a distinctive style. Their masterpieces offer poetic, raw emotions, encouraging me to allow myself more creative freedom. I’m in constant awe of their unmatched talent and come back to their works whenever I want to feel things ❤️

16- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series? 

Can I have all of them, please? 

I would pay all my money to watch a TV series based on my canon OH plotline…I’m not kidding, I even made a bunch of Netflix edits because I need it in my life. On the other hand, my precious AUs would look amazing on the big screen! The most scrumptious one still hasn’t left my head though, so you have to trust me–the cinematic potential is truly there kdgjkdgjk 17- Do you write original fiction? 

I have a few ideas, but they’re so complex I’m stuck on the outlining phase. Mayhaps one day?

18 -  What other hobbies do you have?

I’m a certified music freak and a cinephile. I practice destroying male egos on a daily basis. I love photography, niche sports, playing with my dog, lifting people��s moods, random unhinged facts, and ignoring reality, and I have just entered my skincare expert era. 

19 - What’s your favorite emoji? 

🥰 + ✨ + 💀 

These three emojis perfectly encapsulate who I am as a person, I think: full of love and magic, but also dead inside ksjgksjgks 

20: BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to)

I’d like to thank our lovely admins for giving me this exciting opportunity to ramble about my tiny corner on this hellsite and showcase my word vomit. My heart is full of gratitude! I may not be as active as I used to be, and real life doesn’t allow me to change that, but our fandom will always have a special place in my heart, and I feel very lucky to be a part of this community. Thank you for still putting up with me and supporting my fictional world ❤️❤️❤️

[josiebelladonna]

alright. kinktober prep is officially underway it looks like. after getting a major head start a couple of months ago, my nerves are completely frayed, but the stories will all be written and they’ll all queued up. all the pigs are all lined up, i give you all that you want, take the skin and peel it back-

i’m making this post to preface the event.

by the way, if you’re not into this and don’t wanna see the posts, please blacklist the “kinktober″ and “kinktober 2024” tags, as well as my personalized tag “antarkinktober”—this goes double if you’re under 18: it’s not my job to police you so heed the “mature” labels on all the stories. 

what is kinktober? definition from fanlore: “Kinktober is a multifandom prompt based challenge that encourages the creation of erotic fanworks, mostly fanfiction and fan art, that focus on specific kinks. Taking place during the month of October.” 31 days of smut at its bare bones—although, contrary to popular belief, kink actually need not be sexual.

what prompts are you using? my own, as well as a list from oops-all-kink. i’ve been planning this quite literally since may.

what does X prompt mean? i would recommend going to fetlife or urban dictionary to learn about kinks that sound unfamiliar (especially when Google is basically useless at this point and they feel a need to sanitize results, too)—fanlore also has a full glossary of fanfic terms that, even i’ve never heard of.

how long will they be? at this point, they’re ranging anywhere from 2-6k words: i like to set a stage and tell a story. it’s just more titillating to me, and i always feel like i’m shortchanging myself if i go below a thousand words. i’m not doing it bc i’m horny lol; i do it because… it’s just how i roll. it’s one of the many things that isolate me from the rest of the pack 😒

who are you including? i want to leave that as a little surprise~

why don’t you like the “x reader” trope? short answer: it’s literally every fic in existence right now and literally no one does it right. long answer: that, and what i write is very personal, like i’m writing in my diary. if i bring “you” or “y/n” into it, it removes the heart from it and it ends up looking like nothing. i want to stand out, i guess. and more often than not, it begs the question, “why not just make an original character? you obviously went out of your way to make it applicable to a male reader or a nonbinary reader, why not just make a character?” (it’s a cop out at this point, is what i’m saying)

what time are one shots going to be posted? i have posts scheduled from 9pm and 9:30pm pacific time starting september 30th (the installments of paradise will be posted throughout the day on september 29th, alex’s birthday), so i’d say be on the look out (and maybe turn on my post notifications?). on ao3, i’ll be posting them on the day of the prompt, probably in the morning after my workout (around 8-ish).

isn’t this a bit too much smut? depending on who you ask. my first time was in 2022 and it didn’t feel like too much. i tried it last year and i pulled the plug halfway through because it stopped being fun such that i wanted to kill myself. this year, i’m trying to redeem myself and going all out. some people like doing only a few prompts, like a couple every week.

why are so nervous? i just am. i’m not exaggerating when i say last year was so excruciating that i wanted to slit my own throat. i’m not a sex-positive person (but i’m not sex-negative, though), and just thinking about being sex positive makes me feel somewhat sick to my stomach. i have no confidence… like not at all, and i feel as though everyone just wants to be a dumb, lazy idiot and an antisemite for the rest of their lives. i’m not sexy, and i’m not this confident, voluptuous vixen just eager to share her fantasies with all of you. in fact, i fully expect to get a repeat of last year where everyone gets called hot and sexy and “the one to be” and “the best writer”… except me. i fully expect my kinks to met with utter disgust. there’s a great deal of pride in what i do (i’m portuguese, we’re a proud people), even though it doesn’t seem that way. but if i’m met with apathy, it’s painful, and last year, i was met with reams of apathy. i can get down with a negative remark despite the unspoken rule that you must never say anything negative about a fic to the author; but if no one cares or calls it “fine” or “okay” or whatever, i have my hand on the cable.

if you have any other questions, you may (or not) have noticed that i quietly reopened my ask box. 

please be patient with me when it comes to answering asks, or even posting. this has been the most emotionally trying year for me in 7 years, and anxiety is a real thing with me. depression is a real thing with me. i am scarred by shame and a broken heart. i’m an artist, i have been taking shit day in day out for the last 11, and more so in the last four years. so, i am literally trying my best.

please try and enjoy what i have waiting in the wings. it really does feel like everyone hates me, and this feeling has pervaded since around this time in 2020.

[lil-dinopup]

Name: You guys can call me Dinopup! Or just Pup

Age: I'm Over 25

Species: Fairy Mascot / Dinosaur Dog! With the ability to turn human

Gender: I'm Nonbinary (Fem Leaning)

Pronouns: Fae/Fem is my preferred pronouns but I also use She / Her (I'm only out as nonbinary IRL to my twin) and It/Its

Sexuality: Asexual (Sex Repulsed) Sapphic but Questioning Aromantic

Living: In The USA

I am an age regressor and cg but it's complicated >////< Naturally very cg-ing but def not someone who could take care of someone fully by myself XD I'm more of the fun kind big sister kind of cg. I'm not currently looking for any littles though. My little age range is quite large and I need to explore it more, but I regress mostly when I'm having bad feelings or super tired and forcing myself to stay up LOL! So It's pretty hard for me to do so.

I love love love writing and drawing littles things though!

I made this blog because I really wanted to share my art with Tumblr! 

While I mostly write just for fun, I take art commissions which mostly help going towards food and bills. I will tag art that are commissions such. Because of this I don’t really take requests often. 

I'll be honest this is the first time I've made an introduction post sooo I looked at lots and lots of examples to see what most people do!

🦖 I struggle with mental health issues and other stuff. So I sometimes take a while to reply or post. But, I never let my issues get in the way of finishing a commission!

🐕 I use clipstudio to make my art

🦖 This is a side blog because I wanted my main blog to be a place where I felt comfortable reposting other people's art and stuff. And this blog is focused on just my art if that makes sense? So I can't follow people back as Dinopup

🐕 My sona Dinopup has gone through many edits some of the pictures I will post of her will be of her old look.

🦖 Expect posts being posted at weird times I have never heard of a sleep cycle

🐕 I'm way too hard on myself 99% of the Time!

🦖 This blog is SFW so no sexual asks or things like that please (specially because that stuff is super uncomfortable for me)

🐕 Please don't message me asking to be your CG while I'm a very caring person it makes me uncomfortable to get those messages. While less likely please don’t ask me if I want you as a CG. My regression is really complicated and I don’t feel comfy dragging someone else into it. I'm sorry

🦖 While this blog is okay with diapers and draws littles in diapers, I'm not comfortable with messy diapers.

🐕 Please don't take my art without crediting me I work really hard on it :< If you want to use my art for a mood board or something please first DM me for my approval and second make sure you credit me for my art with a link to my blog

🦖 Please no guilt tripping or anything like that, its really bad for my mental health.

🐕 I follow the Golden Rule please do so as well! (If you don't know what the Golden Rule, it's treat others as you would like to be treated, aka be nice)

🦖 Commissions: Open!

🐕 Asks: Open (Anon too)

🦖 DMs: Open

🐕 Mentally: Doing Ok!

🦖 Activity Levels: I'm Trying To Be Active!

🐕 Dinopup Rambles: Just General Posts I make

🦖 Dinopup Answers: For Answering Questions

🐕 Dinopup Art: For My Drawings <3

🦖 Dinopup Writing: For My Stories

🐕 Dinopup Commissions: This features Commission I Worked On

🦖 This is Dinopup's Ref Sheet

🐕 Dinopup is a Magical Girl Fairy Mascot who prefers to stay in her human form

🦖 Her Default Cloth Color is Blue

🐕 While Dinopup is an adult please don't draw her sexualized since she is me that's very awkward and uncomfortable for me

🦖 She has the ability to transform herself any way she like

🐕 Like me she's a little too!

[engagedtobefree]

I’ve been struggling the past few weeks a bit with my mood. I feel kind of apathetic, I guess you could say. My usual optimism has been a struggle to tap into, but I think it’s finally coming around. To be fair to me, this new year has been a bit rough, and I don’t think I’ve actually had time to stop and process everything. I rang in the new year in bed, sick from a virus, then 3 weeks later just as I was starting to feel better, my friend Craig died. Then two days after his viewing, I was sick with covid for the first time ever. After I got over that, I developed a UTI, which luckily wasn’t as bad as it usually is. I tend to get them fairly easily because of my bladder disorder, but of course after I was getting back into the swing of things after covid, I fell asleep super early one night with a completely full bladder, and that was that 🙃 Then a few weeks later my mom and I had to put her dog to sleep. And really, the rest of it has been me trying to catch up while also focusing on trying to improve my mental health, which is a plate full all on its own. 

Oh, and Idk if I mentioned I’m writing a poem a day this year. Me, who is not consistent with anything, struggles with routines, and has never kept a streak of anything beyond maybe 2 or 3 weeks, has written 100 fucking poems this year!! Today will be day 101 once I write it. I’m actually so glad I started this, because I have needed it to process so many things and also it’s been one of the few saving graces of this year so far. It was a last-minute decision too. I didn't really plan for it, write it down as a goal, or think too much about it; I asked for a notebook for Christmas and my mom ended up getting me 3, one of which has 366 pages, which is perfect since it’s a leap year. That meant I could use a page a day. I wanted to increase my vocabulary, relearn and learn anew about poetry itself, get creative every day, and also write more often so I have the chance to not stay stuck writing about one thing for months and months and months. I take forever to finish a poem because 1. I write inconsistently and 2. I overanalyze every single word because I want it to reflect as accurately as possible what I’m writing about and I also want it to be “good”. My poems have always been deeply personal, so the truth of how I speak through them has always been very important to me. Since I’ve started doing this though, I noticed that I can still do that without spending forever on something, and that the more I write, the more inspiration blesses me. I still have my separate book for my other stuff, but I’ve almost exclusively been focusing on my daily poems since this year started, mostly because that’s all I have time for. No doubt once I get back to my other book, I will still take my time lol, which is fine, cuz now I still have my dailies. Also I realized that it’s okay that my “good” looks different every day, and not everything I write has to be a masterpiece. I’ve always been very self-critical, and this has helped me realize that expecting only “good” material is treating myself as a machine rather than a human being. If I don’t like what I write that day, at least I wrote something, and there will be another opportunity to write again tomorrow. I will probably still be really anal about editing stuff later, but right now, writing every day has been a lot of fun. 

Okay, so now it's time to dive into my personal problems! Wooo! I’m going to start with the one issue I have been hoping for a very long time now would be irrelevant, and that’s Scott. I don’t even tag his name anymore in any personal posts I’ve vented about him in because I just want this to go away, but he has been incessantly trying to get my attention. Literally. Things ended between us a good year and a half ago, but he tried to come back last summer and I was very, very, VERY clear about not wanting to try again and just being friends. He would occasionally reach out to me but it was just niceties and nothing to really worry about, though it did annoy me when he would contact me. But ever since the new year began, he was pestering me almost weekly, asking if I wanted to hang out, commenting on literally every single Snapchat story I post, and asking how I’ve been and saying he misses me. I had legit excuses for the first month and half with getting sick 3 separate times and then my friend Craig dying, but since then it’s mostly been me going to bed before he messages me, ignoring his messages till the morning, him skipping a week in not contacting me, or me just saying I’m too tired for company, which wasn’t actually a lie tbh. I ignored the situation as long as I could before I finally succumbed to the reality that I couldn’t ignore it forever. 

Not this past Friday but the one before was the day I finally decided to deal with it. He was messaging me much earlier in the day than usual, like literally I wasn’t even done work yet, but that also gave me time to feel out what I wanted to do. He asked if he could come over and I told him yes, but then added something pretty close to “I don’t know what your expectations are, but I want you to know that everything I said last summer still stands. I haven’t changed my mind about anything. I am only interested in friendship and nothing more.” I didn’t want him here without me first saying anything to him because I knew he wasn’t going to say anything to me beforehand and I didn’t want to feel like I was caught in some sort of trap in my own home, aka my safe space. He opened my message then didn’t respond for maybe half an hour or so. When he did respond, he said he wanted to hook up with me but he respected if I didn’t want to. Then he said he did really want to be friends at least because he likes me as a person. I told him I know it’s not what he wanted to hear, but I didn’t want him coming here with some idea that something could happen, and that a friendship is really all I want. He responded back that he thought he should tell me before coming over. Okay, so I have a lot to say (vent) about all of that. First off, he wasn’t planning on telling me shit until I said something. He was going to come here and then ask if I wanted to hook up, putting me in an awkward situation when I previously established very clearly I only wanted a friendship and have not even once since then indicated that I have any interest in anything more. This leads me into the second thing which is that he wasn’t even considering what I wanted, just what he wanted. I am very intentional with showing interest. I do not flirt or lead people on. If I flirt, it means I am interested. I have not flirted with Scott since before we even ended things. I send a lot of emojis to anyone and everyone when I message, but I have not sent him any since we broke things off. I also only say someone’s name when messaging if they say mine first or if I am interested. There are some more exceptions to that rule, but if I am consistently saying your name when reaching out, I’m interested. I have not said Scott’s name in messages since before we broke things off. I know that it might not seem like much, but all of that paired with me literally saying I don’t want to try again and only want to be friends should be more than enough to indicate I’m not interested. Thirdly, of course you are going to respect my decision because you’re not going to force me to change my mind. (When he did come over that night, I had a knife and my Simplisafe alert button near me just in case. I don’t think I will ever need them with Scott but you never know.)

I wasn’t sure if he would actually still want to come over after I turned him down, but he was not deterred. Everything went smoothly and it wasn’t awkward, thankfully. He was, however, acting very differently than usual. He was friendly, engaging, talkative, and gave me a bunch of compliments. If he had done this switcheroo like 2 years ago, I might have fallen for it, might have second guessed the fact that I wasn’t being treated right and that I wasn’t happy and ignored that deep down I didn't actually want to be with him, but I’m way past that now. The way he was acting was how he always acted with everyone else except me, which in the past, hurt me a lot. When it came to me, he was often cold, distant, non-communicative, inconsiderate. So for me, him doing this now only really solidifies him in the friendship role. It’s weird in a way because I previously wanted him to act this way with me, like how he did with friends and acquaintances, because it was the nicer Scott, not realizing that if he treated me like other people, it would put me in the same role as them. But now, me actually fulfilling my wish from years ago puts me in the friend/acquaintance role by him being nicer to me. I got my wish, but it happened much later than past me wanted and in a way I hadn’t intended, and it does me more service now than it would have then. I mean, I know there’s the extra caveat of him hoping it will get him laid, but in reality, it pushes him even further away from that than he was to begin with, which was already pretty dang far. I guess in his mind, he thinks there’s a chance I could eventually want him again, or at least enough to sleep with him, but that chance is zero. If I decided I’m done with someone, that means I spent a long time thinking over the situation, how I’m being treated, how I feel about them, who they really are as a person, our relationship and dynamic, if it’s actually really love or something else, what a future with them would look like, etc etc etc. I don’t make decisions like this lightly; I look from every angle and leave no stone unturned, so when I decide I’m done, that means I’m done. For good. Forever. Scott does not know this, but as I’ve said, I haven’t given him a single reason to hope. He’s decided on his own that something could still possibly happen in the future. When he left, he told me to not be a stranger and that we should catch up again soon. I don’t plan on that, but I was happy with how things went, oddly enough. I didn’t really want to see him, but the fact that I did and that I was able to set a clear boundary made me happy, and I felt a sort of completion around the situation. No doubt he’s still going to contact me (he already has lol), but I don’t feel worried or annoyed by it anymore. I’m happy with my decision, restated my boundary with a lot more confidence than last time (not that I should have had to repeat it though), and I feel like I can look forward now without having to worry too much about this. I didn’t feel unsafe, though I figured I wouldn’t, but I wanted to take some extra precautions just in case since I do live alone.

It’s funny because a few years ago when Scott and I still worked together, I had reached a place of complete acceptance with the situation and was able to be completely content with what it was without needing any answers. It was actually during that time that I think we formed a pretty decent friendship, and that’s when I felt we did best. At the time, I thought that what I was feeling was only because of how I was able to find my peace with everything, but looking back now, I think it’s also because that was just where we thrived best together: in a friendship. I’m not going to actively work at being his friend now, especially because I know he still has hopes that I’ll change my mind (I won’t) and something will happen (it won’t), but at least right now, I don’t need to block him or cut him off, which means I don’t feel in danger or like I’m being harassed. However, I don’t like that he still treats me like I’m stupid. I know why he is suddenly making such an effort and doing a total 180 in how he’s treating me. I saw it immediately and haven’t fallen for it for a second, so the fact that he thinks I might actually fall for this is a bit insulting to my intelligence. I’m sure some of it is actually genuine, like him saying he’d like to be friends regardless, which is fine, but just don’t insult me in the process, dude. Also, if he continues to not respect my decision and tries to pressure me, I will block him and cut him off. He can be my friend, he just needs to accept that nothing more will come of it.

Anyway, I feel like I was able to work through that finally. I’ve also been working on some of the past trauma from him, though I had to put a lot of that on hold because of everything that went on this year. I know I can’t move forward until it no longer has such a strong effect on me. I think how I handled the situation now says a lot. When he tried to come back last year, I was anxious, emotional, and very uncomfortable with having to handle the situation and tell Scott I didn’t want to try again. I was still processing a lot of past trauma and while I was positive about not wanting to be with him, I was afraid of hurting him. This time was so different!! I 100% put myself first, and I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for stating what I wanted and not compromising where I shouldn’t. Growing up in an abusive household where there was a lack of boundaries and respect instilled a false belief in me that caring about how I’m treated is wrong and that attempting to do so is insulting and harmful to the other person. I do still have to deal with this from time to time, but I handle it much better now, and I hope I only continue to grow in that regard. I am 32 years old and still learning to untangle the web of lies that abuse taught me, but here I am, fucking doing it and making so much progress with it. I’m so proud of myself.

So now I’m going to unsmoothly segway into talking about Chris now. This poor guy lol. Anytime I write a personal post on here he ends up in it, and he doesn’t even talk to me. Sorry, Chris, but you’re still on my mind. Some of this is also actually relevant to what I was just talking about though so I’m going to start with that. So back in November when I had my last appointment with him, I struggled a lot. I felt I did some things fairly well, but when it came to flirting and asking if he was single, I failed. If I had to choose a physical representation of it, it would be someone falling flat on their face, trying to get up, then falling again and conceding to lay there till it was over. Chris has no way of knowing why I couldn’t. I mean, if he happened to guess, I’d be very impressed. Back when I worked with Scott, it was difficult. I was unknowingly flirting with a married man for months, who flirted back with me, and then after I found out he was married I was mortified. We ended up on friendly terms and then I developed feelings for him. We stayed friendly and I would talk to him all the time at work. He would start flirting with me again and then I’d naively think maybe something was going on, maybe he separated from his wife or was going through a divorce, so I’d flirt back. Then after several weeks of that, nothing would happen, he’d never bring anything up, so I’d ask him what was going on and he’d tell me nothing, he was married, it is what it is, this can never go anywhere. Then I’d get upset and mad that I fell for it, stop talking to him for a while, and then the cycle would repeat. There was one period where I accepted I wasn’t going to get answers (I mentioned it above) and so we were just friends and nothing more, and that was really the only good, healthy period we had. That was like the second half of 2019 up until he left in October 2020, of course with most of 2020 being working from home. Other than that, it was mostly turmoil, and mostly for me. I was 26 when everything started, and Scott was 44. I kept placing my trust in an older man to do the right thing and to not come into work and flirt with me unless he was available, but I was really naive. I talked to him because I wanted to, not because I expected anything to happen, which I didn’t want anyway unless his marriage broke off, but when he would flirt with me again, it would give me false hope that something could actually happen. I always felt such extreme guilt every time too, knowing that once more I was pursuing a married man who was leading me on while his wife had no idea about any of it. I still carry guilt from my actions during that time, because had I known from the beginning that he was married, I would’ve never looked again in his direction. I was so ashamed of myself for so long because I had a choice to say, “No, this cannot continue, I cannot trust this man unless he gives me an explicit reason that I can”, but instead, I chose to keep trusting. I chose to keep flirting. I have worked through some of that shame and guilt, but not all of it. I recognize that I did try over and over again to not interact with him and to avoid him, but his office door was literally 5 feet from my cubicle, which made it hard. To be clear, I never would have had an affair or taken it outside the office at all. He did bring that up fairly early on during a period when I wasn’t pissed off about things, and I told him I did not want to have an affair with him and he agreed. Now that I think about it, I wonder if his answer was dependent on mine though. This scenario kind of happened again after we reconnected back in May/June of 2021. Since he and his wife had separated recently, he made it clear he didn’t want to enter anything new, no dating or romantic partnership until later down the line, but he wasn’t sure about sexual, so he left that up to me to think about. When I told him no, he agreed, but I was never sure if his response would’ve been different if I had said yes.

Anyway, continuing…I felt very stuck, and it was something I brought up all the time in therapy. I didn’t know how to get unstuck. I was only a temp at my job at the time, and I didn’t have health insurance or any time off. NJ didn’t enact the statewide mandate that all employees must be given at least 2 sick days a year until the same month I was finally hired permanently, so if I took any time off, I didn’t get paid for it. (I just looked it up to confirm the date it was enacted to make sure I had it right, and apparently it’s 40 hours now that are mandatory, which is cool they improved the policy!!) I worked a second job and still lived paycheck-to-paycheck. I couldn’t afford to spend more than $20-$30 a week on groceries, which included toiletries and cleaning supplies. I had to stop paying my electric bill because I couldn’t afford it and I needed the shut-off notice to get assistance to help pay for the bill, which thankfully covered several months and also covered my past-due amounts. My apartment was old and shitty, but it was the only place that was affordable for me at the time. My first year there was $715 a month then the 2nd year was $740. It was definitely a health hazard though: the carpets were musty despite several cleanings; there was water damage in the wall and on the ceiling; the water damage on the ceiling was above my bed, which I couldn’t move anywhere else, and kept forming mold that my complex just kept painting over; the front door wasn’t fit right so there were huge gaps between the door and the frame; the water heater would switch to cold after only 5 or 10 minutes in the shower; and the heating system was so old that in the winter it cost me $200+ just to heat my tiny little 400 square foot studio apartment (it was all electric). I couldn’t interview for other jobs because that meant I wouldn’t get paid if I took time off and then that meant I’d have to stress even more over what bill wouldn’t get paid or if I’d have to eat even less than my 2 meals a day. I had to make sure my cat and guinea pig were fed before I fed myself. At my other job, I worked Sunday brunches, which were the most stressful and busiest shifts, so no other hostess wanted to partner with working on them let alone working it by themselves, which often led to me working the whole shift by myself, and I took up other shifts if I had the time or energy to. My mental health was not great and was only made worse by my life circumstances, and I had to go on a second anxiety medication for a while to stop my anxiety attacks.

I wanted to be out of the situation with Scott, even if that meant leaving to go work someplace else, but I was already doing everything I could and I still couldn’t find a way out without jeopardizing my well-being even further. Moving back in with my mom, which was something I eventually did and regretted, was not an option for me because I worked really hard to get out of the abusive household I grew up in. I say all of this not as an excuse but for context. And for forgiveness. I look back at my younger self and she was dealing with so much stress. My basic needs were not even being fully met, but I continued to show up and to handle things in the best ways I could, and sometimes the decisions I made weren’t actually good ones at all. Still though, I kept believing in people, I kept hoping for the best and trusting, and I was actually really grateful for my life at the time, probably even more so than I am now. I didn’t have much, but I had my own place, my own life, freedom, and that was always something I held onto, even during the worst of things. I tried desperately to find a way to let go of my feelings for Scott, but I couldn’t help how I felt because I kept choosing to see the best while ignoring the rest. It took me a very long time to realize Scott was not the one for me and that he wasn’t the type of person I wanted as my romantic partner. I didn’t accept him fully, flaws and all, and we were not compatible in the ways we needed to be. I wouldn’t have been happy if we did get together, but unfortunately I didn’t see all of that until after he left my work, separated from his wife, and reached out to me on Instagram to connect again and start what would eventually become a “situationship” between us. Still, I’m glad I saw it sooner rather than later and before it devolved into an actual romantic relationship. 

So when I could feel myself hesitation the first time and then shaking the second time when I went to ask Chris if he was single, it was from that past period of my life. I saw it all flash in my mind immediately: all the times I confronted Scott and the answers I got back, and all of the sureness and trust I felt about Chris was immediately squashed by those images. I wrote about a bunch of parallels in my post after my appointment with him, but I wanted to dive a bit deeper into that here in a broader sense. Man at his work flirting with me. Check. Man makes it known he’s interested, then doesn’t take it anywhere. Check. Man offers no explanation whatsoever for that. Check. Man does not willingly mention his relationship status. Check. Man is cautious about what information he gives about himself and words things so that while he can respond, he never actually reveals anything about himself or his life. Check. In someone else’s mind, those might just be indicators of someone who is reserved, guarded, private, whatever. In my mind, those checks are potential red flags. Those checked boxes come with the thoughts, “Oh no, am I going to flirt with an unavailable man again? Am I going to get caught in a similar situation that causes me a lot of duress and emotional pain? Am I going to unwillingly be complicit in some man’s selfish attempts at getting attention from me?” Chris doesn’t know any of that. I felt disappointed in myself after my appointment, and I felt like I had probably disappointed him too, though I don’t know for sure. If I had the chance to tell him why, I would, even if I had to sum it up briefly. I mean, I guess I could just say how I was in a situation with someone before where they weren’t trustworthy and it affected me more than I realized. Turns out traumatic things actually traumatize you. Who knew? 🙃 That’s assuming it’s even necessary for me to explain, since I have no idea at this point if Chris is still interested. He hasn’t brought up the date, and I have tried to initiate meeting up twice with no luck. I’m willing to be patient and wait, but I don’t know exactly what it is I’m waiting for. Is there really a possibility this can go somewhere, or am I being duped again? I didn’t reach out for 2 ½ months, but then last weekend I texted him, and it took several days for us to send only a few messages. He only responded once or twice a day, and then he did that thing again where he told me to have a wonderful day at the end of his message, then when I responded back with a bit more, he never responded back. I still don’t know how to take that. He did say he’s been getting sick like every other week, which is weird cuz that’s exactly what happened to me in the beginning of the year, so I can understand he may not be up for talking to anyone or even checking his phone at all, but I don’t know if that’s what it was or not. I don’t mind slow responses, but it would help to know what was going on and where I stand. Otherwise, it confuses me and I don’t know what to make of it.

I also don’t know if I’m being too impatient? He gave me his number last May and didn’t mention going on a date until December. Obviously, with how this year has gone just for me alone, not including him being sick and whatever else he has going on, nothing could have really happened since he mentioned the date. Maybe I’m being too hopeful? I don’t know 😕 I also don’t know if I have worked through what I needed to regarding Scott, because I have nothing to trigger it. That time of my life when we worked together was triggered only when an outside catalyst brought it up, one that placed me back in a moment that was similar and reminded me of it. The only way I’ll really know for sure that I’ve overcome all of this and am ready to step forward without the past holding me back is when I’m with Chris. There’s no one else I’m interested in, I’m rarely ever into anyone anyway, I don’t like random dating, and I have no interest in hooking up with random people, so there is literally not a single other person who can do this. I can’t know on my own; I can only do the work and hope that I’ve made progress with it and healed from it. At this point, I guess I’ll find out soon enough if I can pursue Chris without old baggage weighing me down since my appointment is coming up. I know I will still probably have some trepidations and fears that pop up, but as long as the most traumatic things are taken care of, I can push through all the other stuff.

I had my yearly appointment with the oral surgeon scheduled for the 15th of this month to make sure the dense spot in my jaw bone hasn’t grown, but he won’t be in that day so it got pushed back to the 29th. My next cleaning with Chris is scheduled for 2 ½ weeks later on May 16th. I feel nervous even thinking about it. At my last appointment I wasn’t sure what to expect since over the course of 6 months he only reached out to me 2 or 3 times, and after a while I gave up on reaching out to him because I was confused. I was determined to see him during this current time frame before my next appointment, but it looks like that isn’t going to happen. I feel like I’m going to really put myself out there and take some risks when my appointment does come around. Nothing is moving along, which I know we’re both contributing to, so I want to at least feel good knowing that I did my part, and I don’t feel that way yet. So far, I’ve relied on past trauma and doubt to take the lead more than I’ve allowed the present and trust to do so, and I want to flip that now. I have been trying not to think about everything with Chris that has been shouting “GREEN FLAG!!” at me because a lot of it isn’t logical but rather intuitive and spiritual, but I think that those places are where the answer actually lies. Overthinking gets me nowhere, so I have to stop letting it be an option. I can still be cautious, but not to a degree where it is detrimental to anything happening at all.

Aside from past trauma interfering there’s definitely been a few other things that have contributed to my lack of pursuit here. In general, I never know how people perceive me. I have always felt like I come off as unlikable, so even when people tell me good things about myself, I struggle to hold onto those things and believe in them. I’ve been trying to shift that because I know that is a belief I hold and not necessarily one that is true. I’m sure there have been people who genuinely have not liked me as a person, but with 8 billion people in the world, odds are at least some of them do or will like me. I mean, I do have friends and the one and only yoga class I teach at the moment continues to get a lot of students, so that all has to say something. I think a big part of that belief I hold also stems from childhood trauma, but I can’t remember when it started. For as long as I can remember, it feels like I’ve always felt that way about myself. So when Chris literally doesn’t talk to me, takes a whole day to respond when I reach out, and then hasn’t actually planned the date that he brought up months ago, I just assume the worst. Logically, I know there could be a whole host of other reasons that might not have anything to do with me, or maybe even something else that does, but it’s hard for me to shake off how I’ve thought about myself for pretty much my entire life. So in my mind, a quick assumption that pops up is that I’m bothering Chris when he wants nothing to do with me. I don’t want to place any assumptions or expectations on him, but untangling those is difficult and is taking longer than I would like them to. This is something that I actually personally started working on years ago, and while it might not be apparent, I’ve made a TON of progress with it. I used to be a lot worse with it, but I still have some ways to go. I know that it’s my responsibility to find peace within myself no matter what external circumstances look like. Anway, back to the other stuff. There’s also been the other things that have been taking forever, like feeling at peace with the Scott situation, which I feel like has finally freaking happened, and then personal accountability I have with other things, like my ADD, which I’m still working on finding the right medication for. I have to remind myself though that it’s okay to be a work-in-progress. I tend to be in this “Everything needs to be perfect before anything can happen” mindset (with everything, not just romance), but in reality, things will never be perfect. If anything is ever 100% perfect and nothing is going wrong, it won’t last forever. Even the bad stuff doesn’t. The person meant for me won’t care and will want to handle all our messes together. But first I have to show up and be willing to tackle all those things on my own to the best of my abilities. I think I have been doing that, but I need to expand it a bit more to everything, and not just the more immediate things. My mental health struggles don’t make it any easier, but that only means I have to be more gentle and understanding with myself while continuing to work towards finding solutions, that’s all.

I’ve also struggled with that aspect of forgiving myself for past mistakes, not just the ones I made regarding Scott but with other things as well. I wonder why I deserve the relationship and connection I desire, what makes me so great and special as to receive it, and whether I’m even worthy of someone looking at me and knowing that I’m it for them. I wrote about this in my daily poem the other night. It was about a bunch of stuff but Chris was included in it. I’m not going to post the actual wording of what I wrote because I’m not ready to share that poem yet, even though that particular section is my favorite within the whole piece, but essentially what I said was how being with Chris would be like accepting forgiveness for myself. I want that, I just haven’t fully gotten there yet, and I’m not sure whether it needs to be mostly complete before anything can happen or if it’s okay that it remains a bit of a work-in-progress if and after things do get rolling. I’m hoping for the latter. I know it might sound kind of crazy that I fear forgiveness, but that is really what it is at its core: fear. I am tired of fear. I know that it’s a survival mechanism that kicks in and so I will never be able to be completely rid of certain ones, but I can at least shift my relationship with it. Taking a page out of Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic here in saying that fear will always be in the car, but I do not need to let it steer the wheel or even sit in the passenger seat. It can stay in the backseat where it holds no control. I’m afraid of making the wrong choices again with someone and of getting myself in a similar situation as before, but that fear isn’t going to get me closer to anyone; it’s only going to keep me alone and afraid. I asked myself what is the worst that could happen if I do end up in the same situation, and the outcome was honestly not that bad. At the worst, I’d block Chris, find a new dentist office, and work on healing again. I could be grateful that it isn’t exactly the same as before, that I have more agency and options now and am not stuck like how I was in my situation with Scott, and that me being deceived would only say something bad about Chris and not me. Of course I'll be really disappointed, and I might also struggle with trusting myself and relying on my gut to tell me if someone is trustworthy, but I can work through all of that with time. When I take a look at all of that, it’s really not that bad. Yes, it would suck, but I’d get through it. Even as I write this though, I don’t think any of that will come to fruition. When I question and second-guess everything, asking the “what ifs” and doing the whole comparison thing, that fear builds in my chest and I think about how I can’t do this, I must be crazy to think that I can trust that trusting feeling that I feel with Chris. But when I close my eyes and take a moment to think clearly about Chris, letting myself remember his energy - the curiosity, comfort, warmth, gentleness, brightness, and pureness of it - that is when I know. That is when the truth of who he is makes itself known. I will never find the truth of him by looking at someone else’s actions, words, and energy. I will never find Chris by looking back at my relationship with someone else. I can only find Chris in Chris. I can only find any truth about what is going on by looking at my experiences with him and him alone. That is a very difficult and enormous shift I have been trying to make, but despite the doubts that creep into my mind, I believe that I can do it and that it is possible. Yes, I have to keep in mind that I could be wrong about him, but right now I am not giving enough energy to the thought that I could be right. 

When I had last year’s appointment with the oral surgeon, I was also kind of in the same space, but it was only about whether or not Chris was interested in me. I didn’t really have much to go off of except 3 things: he did a double-take when he saw me, he was asking me questions that I was sure he was not asking everyone else (or at least with the same intention), and I just had an overall feeling. Well, okay, there was a bunch of other stuff, but I meant things that are a bit more tangible, I guess you could say. I’ve never been wrong in my life about someone being interested in me, I always just know, but I was accepting of the possibility that I could be wrong this time. I had told both of my best friends about everything, and it was kind of similar to what was going on in my head: Stacy was really supportive, said he was definitely into me, and that I should go for it, while Amanda said I could be reading things wrong, that intuition can’t always be trusted, and that it wasn’t enough to go off of. It’s funny cuz Amanda and I tend to have more views in common than Stacy and I do, but I ended up taking the more positive route, the one that Stacy supported. Amanda also is not very optimistic on the romantic front whereas I am, so this is something that we differ a lot on. I also don’t believe that intuition ever lies. For me, there’s always been a very strong distinction between emotions, thoughts, and intuition, so while I was still open to being wrong, I decided to trust my intuition more than my mind. Then when I was at my appointment with the oral surgeon, as soon as I crossed paths with Chris and our eyes met, I knew instantly that he was going to give me his number, and at my next appointment, he did. I have not been wrong about anything so far, and I’ve been trying to trust myself more, open my intuitive capabilities even wider, and I can’t do that if I’m always in my head about things. This one poem by Erin Hanson popped into my head and it feels relevant here: “There is freedom waiting for you, On the breezes of the sky, And you ask "What if I fall?" Oh but my darling, What if you fly?” I keep asking myself over and over, “What if I’m wrong?” but then there’s also a voice that follows it and asks, “But what if I’m right?” I won’t know unless I take a chance. I have always taken chances on the wrong people, and I don’t want that to deter me from trying again, because then I could miss out on the right person. I have to try. If I’m wrong, then I’ll deal with that when the time comes, and at least I can say that I tried and took a chance. If I’m right, then my life could possibly be changed forever.

I have tried so hard not to have hopes, because hope always brought me disappointment, but before, I only thought I knew, when in reality I was ignoring the actual knowing voice. This is different. I don't think I know, I do know. I've always known, and I've tried not to know. It's the opposite of how it's always been. If I trust this, it could potentially have a different outcome than all those other times too. I’ve been questioning and second-guessing and doubting, when deep down inside I’m being told to trust. I can’t predict the outcome of this situation, but I know I can trust whatever this is, and I need to lean into that without any more hesitation. I know. I know it’s safe to trust this. I read a lot of comics/manhwas in the Webtoon app, and right now I’ve been trying to read completed ones so I can focus more on current ones, and one I’m reading right now is called Aerial Magic. It’s about a young witch who can’t read spells, and she had trouble finding an apprenticeship that would take her. She applied to over 400 different places, and only 1 responded, which is the place she’s apprenticing at. While on the phone with her dad, she said she got lucky, and her dad responded that she was dismissing her hard work and that “It isn’t luck that you found the right person. It’s because you kept on reaching out and you refused to stop until you found someone who reached back.” How many people give up? How many people settle? How many people stop trying to grow and do better, or think there’s a limit to how much they’re able to improve, or believe it’s only the other person who needs to be improving and doing the work? I have never given up on myself and what I know I can have and is possible for me. Despite any doubts or perceived limitations, whether from myself or others, I’ve always pushed through. I may move slowly, but I never stop moving. All of my previous failed attempts at finding my person were stepping stones. I let those people and situations rip me apart, and then I put myself back together again, even when I didn’t want to do it. The thought that I have to has always driven me. I’ve never seen any other choice. When I looked at myself and adjusted to the newness of who I was with those pieces put back together, I realized that I somehow was more beautiful and more resilient. I grew, and while those growing pains hurt, they never stopped me. Growth is never easy, and more often than not the most growth comes from the hardest circumstances, but it’s necessary if we want to become our best selves. The growth we are looking for doesn’t come without the sacrifice of our own ease and comfort. We must go through it and heal it, and then we come out better for it. 

Also, things I’ve felt and experienced with Chris have never happened before. There’s been a lot, and I wrote about some of them in past posts, although now that I’m thinking about it, some of it I might not have actually posted. I never made my one private post public, made a second private post I also never made public and then forgot about, and I started a Google docs draft writing about a ton of stuff last year that I never finished or posted, so some things I think I posted might not be on here. Oops lol I like to have all my stuff in one place, but whatever. I know certain things I definitely didn’t write about, but there’s less of those than ones I did write about. Anyway, my point is, I’m skipping that to write about something else I haven’t yet, or at least haven’t written about in great detail. It’s Chris’s energy, and how I can sense it. I’ve always been able to pick up on other people’s energies, like the essence of who they are, to a certain degree, but mostly I just feel emotions coming off of people, especially strong ones. I’m not sure if everyone is like that? I used to think so, until I was watching some astrology reel on Youtube not too long ago and of course a bunch of grown ass men who think they’re amazing for shitting on people’s interests that have nothing to do with them infiltrated the comment section. One of the comment threads was how people don’t give off “energy” and that there’s no such thing, from a scientific perspective, which didn’t sound right to me cuz I thought science literally explained how everything was energy, but sure go off, dude, whatever. That really confused me cuz I thought I was in my head a lot but maybe there are people so disconnected from themselves that they literally do not pick up on these types of things. Anyway, people I am closer with or was close with at one point have stronger energies to me. But ummm I’ve never felt anyone’s energy as strongly as I feel Chris’s. Especially considering I have only met him a handful of times, so it shouldn’t be that way. It was actually the first thing I noticed about him. I mean, he did have a mask on, but even then, I’ve been to plenty of doctors or other health places where they wear masks the whole time, and this has not happened with any of them. I remember the two times I was there before my first appointment with Chris, he was up at the front desk with his mask on, and both times he said we had similar last names. He didn’t look at me either time when he said it, just kind of tilted his head toward his right shoulder in my direction, and I didn’t think anything in particular about him; I only remember feeling curious, but even that wasn’t something I noticed consciously until later, so I quickly forgot about it each time. At my first appointment, I remember he did a double-take, and I didn’t look at him as a natural self-defense mechanism, but when I got back to the room with him, my defense was gone. That doesn’t happen. I always remember to keep it up, no matter what is going on around me. I didn’t even notice I had dropped it when I was with Chris. When I walked into the room behind him, he asked if I wanted him to hang my bag up for me, which I declined. That’s when my first impression of him hit: he was warm and bright. Not just because of his gesture, but his whole being. I felt the warmth and I saw this glow around him. I was thinking earlier about how I am virtually unphased by a lot of things that should probably phase me. This moment - well, my entire first appointment tbh - should have been one of those moments. Even at all my other appointments, there are things I have no logical explanation for and yet, I have remained nothing but calm and collected during all of it. Honestly, now that I’m thinking about it again, that is so insane haha. 

I wasn’t going to write about this other thing, but since I probably already sound like I’m off my rocker, might as well just keep going a bit longer. Okay so, Chris’s eyes. I don’t know if he believes me cuz I’ve only ever commented on his eyes after he’s said something about mine, but asdfghjkl. I lose my absolute MIND over his eyes. This is going to be so freeing to write about. I can feel it. Okay so yeah, at my first appointment I only looked into his eyes once. It was when he was shocked I said I was 30 and I turned my head to look at him. His brown eyes were wide in disbelief. In that moment, I felt like 100 different things. I didn’t look long, but when I turned my head back, I had this strange sort of feeling. Well, first, I corrected myself by saying I was actually 31, and then I remember feeling some sort of weird intensity I had never felt before. I didn’t know what it was, so I felt embarrassed and didn’t look into his eyes again the rest of my time there. Later though, I figured it out. Chris’s eyes are so deep, yet still so bright. There is a depth there that seems to go on endlessly, like an entire other universe, and I wanted to know what was there. That was what I felt embarrassed about, but I couldn’t figure it out at that moment. I had no idea because I had never felt that before. I felt like I wanted to explore everything behind those eyes. I also felt seen and understood, which made no sense to me because there was nothing to see or understand. Maybe in general, like me as a person overall, but not in that particular moment. I still feel all of this when I look into his eyes, and after my last appointment with him, a few times when I was looking in the mirror, I had to do a double-take because I kept seeing his eyes before I saw my own. I know, I sound so psycho 😭 I wish I didn’t. I wish I had some sort of explanation, but I don’t. All I have is all this stuff that has happened and all the things I have felt, and this isn’t even the craziest of it. I still haven’t written about one thing that happened because it wouldn’t be fair to not tell Chris first, though that may never happen anyway. Maybe this is all nothing. Maybe this is…fake? Not real? A blip in the universe? Well - many blips in the universe? I can’t even take any guesses because what am I supposed to even guess at? He’s still just my dental hygienist and I’m still just his patient. There’s no relationship to comment on, little progress to point to, and barely any further interaction to make this stuff feel more tangible and less like I’m a little psychopath. There’s literally nothing to even guess at because these weird little things are all that exist from this. I can’t even talk to Chris about it because he doesn’t talk to me 😑😑😑 These intangible things are all I have. They’re all that’s really tethering me to trust because in the physical world, everything only points to confusion and doubt. This is all I have. I’m either being spiritually led in the direction of something really great, or I have some sort of serious brain injury that only makes itself known in Chris’s presence. I don’t think there’s anything in-between that would rationalize all of this stuff that I’ve seen and experienced.

That brings me around to what I’m going to do. First, I have to decide what I’m willing to live with: the pain of being used again or the pain of missing out. I already know which option I’m going to choose though, and I know what I’m going to do about it. Just like this time last year, I’m going to take the approach of seeing how Chris responds to me at my appointment with the oral surgeon. I assume we’ll cross paths like we have at all my other appointments. If it’s negative, sucks for me, and the result will probably be me crying when I get home because it does not take much to make me cry lol. If it’s positive, great, I plan to make some moves during my next appointment with him. I may have lost my chance at this point, but I’m hoping I haven’t. If I haven’t, awesome, I plan to treat my next appointment with him as a pivotal point in regards to whether things progress or not. So far, Chris has really put himself out there. He’s taken chances on me and I really haven’t responded positively back to him. I mean, I guess you could say the same for me taking chances on him in regards to trying to meet up and him not really responding great, but I’m not going to count that. I’m going to count in-person stuff only. I have roughly 5 weeks to: make sure I work through any lingering potential past romantic trauma that could interfere (this is also for myself too), come up with a coping plan in case something does come up, brush up on my flirting skills so I don’t freeze in the moment (tbh idk how I’m going to do this, maybe in the meantime just keep taking mental notes of all the stuff I like about Chris and hope it helps me seize an opportune moment to be flirty when the time comes), and continue to prioritize my mental health so I don’t get overwhelmed and overstimulated by all the excitement, which will also help with the flirting aspect. That….is a small list but actually a huge load of stuff to take care of in a month’s time. Anyway!! I’m still going to hope for the best. The other stuff doesn’t have to be 100% dealt with, but my #1 priority is making sure Chris feels good and that I make it apparent that “Yes I am into you and I’m sorry I’ve been struggling so much to show you that!!”. Well, I can leave out the apology bit, but yeah, the first part gets a thumbs up. Maybe that’s why Chris hasn’t initiated anything. Maybe he thinks I’m not that interested or only in it for self-gain, neither of which are true at all. I struggle a lot. I struggle with so many things and then I suck at articulating and explaining myself. In fact, when I do try to articulate or explain, I somehow always end up making things worse. It’s better for me to just wipe the slate clean, start fresh, and then hope that if he asks about something I can explain without embarrassing myself further. Maybe he wants me to ask about our date, but since he’s the one that brought it up in the first place, I feel kinda weird asking “So uhhh our date?” Maybe I’m overthinking all of this and it really is as simple as: if he’s not reaching out, then he’s not interested or is just fucking with me for whatever reason. 

I’m tired, man. I’m tired of always being in a place of always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the pain. Waiting to be treated poorly. Waiting for the betrayal. Waiting for the anger. Waiting to be told or shown how I’m not enough. I think to myself, Who will not make me flinch? This all goes way beyond Scott; a large part of my experiences with men, for a majority of my life, have not been positive. Some have even been dangerously negative. I think a part of me is always going to have some fear about being hurt until I’m with someone who doesn’t hurt me in big ways, and the little ones they work with me on and try to make up for. I will gladly give them the same in return. I’m never going to find that person unless I take a chance on them. I want to take the chance on someone who is worth it, and I feel that Chris is. I want my choices in life to reflect that I didn’t give up, that I kept believing in something higher and took the steps I needed in order to actualize that higher life for myself, even if I did so imperfectly with mistakes along the way.

I had a bunch of other stuff I was going to write about but I’ve already been coming back to this over the course of two weeks and it’s getting too long, so I’ll end here for now.

Umm Chris if somehow you’ve found my anonymous blog, which I���m hoping you haven’t, I apologize if any of this sounded weird or made you uncomfortable 😭 Feel free to never talk to me again if that’s the case. If not, see you in a few weeks 🥰

[floatingwithlaura]

new pinned post as an extension of a bio:

hi! im Jaz. jasmine / jas is cool too. this is my 3rd chosen name so .. fingers crossed its my last.

im 24. 1999 libra baby. libra sun & moon. sagittarius rising.

i use they/them and she/her pronouns.

i was on T for 2.5 years, and at the time did id as transmasc / male. i don’t any more but i am still a genderqueer woman.

i kin laura palmer mostly, she is gonna be my on and off pfp until this account implodes. also kin marceline so expect a rotation of laura/marcie pfp.

isfp. 6w7. not sure of instinctual variants atm

learning german 🫡 if i have any german mutuals plz dm me and let me practice (im super bad at learning languages but for some reason german has been the only one my brain has been able to latch onto. as well as a tiny bit of korean).

i post sm stuff. lots of ethel cain and boygenius and mitski and mcr.

im very gay - into women and nonbinary ppl mainly tyvm

cptsd and autism 🤌 probably ocd too but that’s largely unexplored.

endometriosis & chronic pain. HEDS. aka my body is shit.

from the UK, have a degree in sociology and criminology and uh i work in a pharmacy.

i post vents under ‘jaz rambles’ which include any and all topics previously mentioned. i dont really do trigger warnings because i dont go into details and also theres too many elements. i do try and tag appropriate content tags but i’ll forget often. if you need smthn specific tagged just lmk. i do not censor words.

dni includes : terfs, maps, homophobes, alt right, forceful christians etc. aka anyone who makes life harder to live for someone else.

okay thats all i can think of rn so 💜 have a good day

edited 27/01/24 to change pronouns, clarify parts and edit a couple things to better reflect what’s going on lol.