#I’ve been off tumblr working on thesis but I had to crawl back for one of the funniest chapters in the book

[secretmellowblog]

(Other includes: Javert planning to become a farmer, Valjean attempting to shake Javert’s hand only for Javert to have a meltdown over that too, the way Valjean hears Javert is at the door and cringes in annoyance because he doesn’t want to deal with him, etc etc)

[katrandomwrites]

Wierdly Human

Alternate title was "Jon the Archivist is Kinda Hot"

Little in between snippets from the assistants and their impressions of Jonathan Sims.

I declare this a fluff and humor only zone! Episode 160 can kiss my butt.

You can also find this on AO3 under the same title.

I got the inspiration for this from a tumblr post about Jon being a clean boy despite crawling through hell and back but I think the writer deleted it because I spent forever looking for it and couldn't find it :n: Also 2 Drink Jon is a reference to 2 other fics I've read so his wild ass is not mine.

Supplemental Headcanons at the end.

--

Pre-Show

There was somebody new at the Institute. 

He was short and dark with black hair neatly trimmed and styled. A pair of browline glasses perched in front of wide brown eyes that seemed to absorb everything around him.

“Hey, uh, Tim,” Martin whispered as he leaned over to where his coworker was digging through a drawer, “Who’s that?”

“Hm?” Tim’s eyes widened as he looked up, “Oh shit, he’s cute.”

“Not helpful, Tim.”

“Um, I think he might be Daniel’s replacement. I think his name is Joe or something,” Tim swallowed, “I wonder what modeling agency Bouchard raided for him.”

Martin elbowed him in the ribs hard, his face going as red as his hair, “Shut up!”

“But look at him, Martin! He has to have a skincare routine an hour long and don’t tell me you didn’t notice that those trousers are bloody tailored. I see you looking at his arse!”

“SHUT UP!”

”What are you two fighting about now?”

Both researchers jumped away from each other as Sasha popped up behind them.

“Hot new guy,” Tim said, earning another jab and a hiss.

Sasha looked at Martin and grinned, “Short, scrawny, Persian, and angry?”

“He’s Persian?” Martin stuttered before slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah, I got to talk to him during his follow up interview. Smart guy but kind of grumpy and super awkward. We got talking about foriegn food and he offered to give me his grandma’s recipe for chelow kababs,” Sasha said.

“What’s his name.” Tim asked, looking back at where the new guy was glaring at a row of filing cabinets with several drawers ajar.

“Jonathan Sims.”

--

Pre Episode 44

Basira watched as Sims limped away with the tape clutched to his chest like a lifeline before sighing and heading out to the car where Daisy was waiting.

“Well?” Daisy asked, “How’s our favorite murderer?”

Basira swatted her feet off the dash, “He looks like he hasn’t slept in 3 weeks and recently got hit by a car.”

“I wasn’t asking about his nasty, worm-eaten face, Basira,” Daisy said, “Does he know we’re watching him?”

“I don’t think so -put your seatbelt on- it seems like he’s more invested in what’s on those tapes for now. I get the feeling he’s more worried about watching the people he works with than us.”

“What a sad little librarian. I’m looking forward to how he managed to kill Robinsen without getting his ass whipped.”

“She was old.”

“Yeah, but Sims looks like he’d get knocked out by a light breeze even before he got munched on by some nasty fucking bugs. Did you see the surveillance from Robinsen’s initial investigation? I went back through to track Sims and watched him struggle move a box that was in front of a filing cabinet for a solid twenty minutes; the big ginger guy had to move it for him.”

“That’s-” Basira snorted, “That’s pathetic.”

Daisy grinned, “He has to be one manipulative bastard to get anything done.”

“Is that your theory?”

“I mean look at you.”

“What about me?”

“He gives you the puppy eyes once and now you’re smuggling him tapes from the evidence locker? I have never known the great Basira Hussain to ever cave to a suspect’s wishes in my life- and don’t say it’s to keep a closer eye on him. We have less illegal tactics for that.”

Basira opened her mouth to argue but found that Daisy had a point. She really only gave into suspects if the circumstances were dire. This was technically classed as a low priority case.

What was going on here? 

--

Post Episode 76

Melanie flopped dramatically onto Georgie's couch and let out a long winded sigh.

"Oh?" Georgie asked from the kitchen door.

Melanie sat up slightly to let her sit down before plopping her head down on Georgie's thigh, "I had to go talk to Sims at the Institute again."

"How's Jon?"

"A fucking bastard is what he is."

"Well I knew that," Georgie laughed, gently beginning to brush through Melanie's hair with her fingers.

"I don't know, he's was wierdly defensive and I think he was trying to gaslight me about one of his new assistants."

Georgie paused her brushing, "I haven't seen Jon in a while but that seems… out of character for him. He's a grump, sure, but I've never known him to be a bully -on purpose that is."

"Yeah, well…"

The pair lapsed into a tense silence.

"Would it make you feel better if I show you a picture of Jon in university that he is very embarrassed about," Georgie ventured after a few minutes, "He's still mad I have it.~"

Melanie twisted her head back and grinned, instantly breaking the tension and sitting up to look at the phone screen presented to her.

On it was a picture of Jon passed out, mouth wide open and drooling, on the ugliest couch she'd ever seen.

"He still owns that couch by the way," Georgie said. Melanie waved a hand in her face to silence her as she took in the details.

Jon was in a pink crop top that Melanie was sure she'd seen in Georgie's closet, union jack boxers, gladiator sandals, and The Admiral was planted square on his chest, though he was about half the size of the fluffball that roamed the flat now. Surrounding them where piles of papers and books on the paranormal.

Melanie began to cackle.

"Our friend group used to call him '2 Drink Jon' and this was after he'd done four shots in the kitchen and decided to lecture us on how ghosts are bullshit and he could beat one in a fist fight," Georgie elaborated, "I'm still not sure when he ended up in that outfit but honestly, if we had recorded his rant he probably could have used it for his Masters thesis."

Melanie wheezed into her shoulder as tears began to stream down her face.

"2 Drink Jon was actually a lot more charismatic than sober Jon. This one time he almost had us convinced that he could talk to plants after two gin and tonics, granted we were also drunk but-,"

"Stop, please," Melanie wheezed, "I'm dying."

"Gosh, one of these days I'll have to tell you about tequila and the alien conspiracy. Randall could almost recite the whole speech from memory."

Melanie fell off the couch.

--

Post Episode 109

Julia and Trevor exchanged a look as the Archivist powered through the spiciest Thai food they could find without even breaking a sweat. 

It was supposed to be a joke, spiking Jon's food, the cashier had even given them a panicked look at the restaurant and Trevor's eyes had been watering the whole way back to the safe house. They'd even waited by the door in case Jon tried to make a break for the case of water bottles in the car but he just unwrapped the plastic fork and dug in without even asking for a drink.

Julia picked at her own food but couldn't quite manage to eat it and glanced back at Jon, "Are you sure you don't need a water or anything?"

Jon looked up for a moment, his eyes were more alive than they had been all day and practically sparkled in the shitty fluorescent light. He shook his head and instead reached for another packet of chili sauce to add to his food.

"What the hell is he," Trevor whispered to Julia in horror.

"I don't know but he's definitely not normal."

--

During Episode 132

Daisy had misjudged Jon. She'd grossly misjudged him.

She flexed her fingers around his, ignoring the way the sand dug into her skin, and gently pulled him closer. The man she'd called prey gave her a soft smile and compiled, pressing against her side like she'd never held a knife to his throat, like she hadn't just admitted to planning his murder before she was trapped here.

Daisy turned her head awkwardly and dug her face into his shoulder savoring the human contact, her tears soaking into his shirt.

The Hunt in her blood tried to sing, tried to fight the Buried, "Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect", it echoed faintly.

Jon said something and began to move, pulling Daisy forward along with him.

"Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect"

Hours past as they shimmied through the coffin, the pain of being scraped and crushed was overpowered by the sheer ecstasy of moving more than an inch every few days.

"Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect"

There was a door, Jon tucked himself under her arm and pulled her up the stairs to the blinding lights of the institute. She ducked her head down to his shoulder again and grimaced as her joints popped and groaned.

"Jon, you stupid idiot! What did you think-"

Daisy looked up to the person she thought she’d never see again and smiled.

"Hi."

--

Post Episode 132

Martin had horrible timing really. He just needed to pee, was that really too much to ask?

Of course it was. The universe hated him.

So instead of slipping into the private bathroom upstairs which was magically broken, he had to go down a level and walk in on Jon shaking dirt out of his clothes.

Martin was going to die here but at least he'd die happy.

Jon didn't even seem to register that someone else had joined him (thank the Lonely) so Martin took a second to sneak a guilty look before darting back out and hiding for 40 years.

Jon was painfully thin. Martin got the idea that he could count every vertebrae and rib if he was allowed and even at a glance he could spot the sunken area where at least one rib was now missing.

Worm scars and burns were peppered up his back along with a few moles and freckles. Little red marks circled his chest in a way that Martin immediately recognized as being from the black fabric crumpled at Jon's feet.

And to top it all off, much to Martin's delight, were a set of three black gears tattooed down Jon's right shoulder blade. Sasha had mentioned once that she had gone out for drinks with Jon when he first started and they'd managed to get on the topic of tattoos. Tim had spent months trying to get Jon to show it to him before 'giving up'.

Martin stepped out and stood in the hall for a moment, red faced and giddy, before stumbling off in search of another bathroom.

--

Somewhere between Episode 132-154

"Hey, guys?" Melanie called.

Daisy and Basira glanced up to see Melanie holding a giant plate of the best smelling food they'd seen in weeks. Steam wafted up into her very confused face.

"Did either of you make this? I went to ask Martin and I can't find him."

"I didn't make it," Basira said, "Daisy?"

"I once made spaghetti and lit it on fire.

Basira grimaced and walked up to Melanie, "Kebabs, Tahdig rice, flat bread, and jam cookies. Those are Iranian dishes, or Middle Eastern at least.”

Daisy looked at Basira, "How do you know that?"

"Took a foreign cuisine course focused on middle eastern food a few years ago," Basira said as she made her way to the kitchen area with the group in tow.

Sitting on the table were three more huge plates of food and two empty plates sitting in the sink. Martin was standing next to the table with pure confusion on his face.

"Did you make this?"

Martin jumped and looked at the group, "Uh, no? I really only do pastas… this is a little outside my skill set. I think-"

"It could be a trap," Daisy interrupted, "Maybe it's laced with something?"

"No, I'm pretty sure-"

"Could be, but who would go to this effort, the Web?" Basira said.

"Guys, it was probably-"

"It was the Archivist!" Helen exclaimed from behind them, somehow having opened her door without making a sound and scaring the shit out of them, "He is an excellent cook."

"Bullshit," Melanie wheezed, setting her plate down before she dropped it.

"No, she right," Martin sighed, "Jon actually cooked something similar a few years ago for a company thing. He gave this whole speech about how grandparents immigrated here from Iran, well Persia at the time, and his grandma made him learn to cook what she called 'real food'."

"You mean to tell me that Jonathan Sims, the skinniest guy I have ever met, can cook like this," Basira said in disbelief before cautiously sitting down at the table with the rest following suit.

"He called it his grandmother's curse," Helen provided cheerfully, "He said that no matter what he does,  he always makes far more than he needs and never has people around to give it to. So he just never cooks."

"You talked to him?" Melanie asked. Daisy began to pick at a plate and made a sound of confusion and delight at the taste.

"Oh yes, he even let me help by getting things off high shelves!"

"This is amazing," Daisy said in disbelief before grabbing a fork and beginning to eat in earnest.

"It is! Jon and I had a lovely chat and I'm not much for 'real' food these days but he really convinced me!" Helen declared, spinning back around to re enter her door, "And I must say it was delightful."

"Huh," Basira shrugged and began to eat.

Not bad.

--

Post Episode 159

For the second time since he woke up, Martin pinched himself. He had to be dreaming, the smaller body smooshed up against his chest and the boney limbs clinging to him had to be a figment of his imagination.

Jon huffed in his sleep and burrowed deeper into Martin before settling again. A few stray rays of the morning sun slipped through the blinds highlighting Jon’s gray hairs and the raised edges of scars that trailed along his skin.

Gently, Martin carded his hand through the wild mess of hair, marveling at how soft it was despite everything. Jon sighed, leaning into the touch without stirring.

He could stay like this forever, with Jon safe in his arms and the dangers of the world outside, away from his happiness.

"Wha' time?" Jon mumbled, stretching before re-draping himself over Martin. He looked up and the light caught his eyes in a way that Martin could see all the blue heterochromatic spots in Jon's left eye through dark, heavy lashes. 

"Doesn't matter," Martin whispered as he pulled him closer, "We have all the time in the world."

--

Supplemental Headcanons: - Jon is a 3rd gen Persian/Iranian immigrant. His grandparents on his dad's side moved to England post WWII. (Persia became Iran in 1979) They took the last name Sims during immigration. - His mother was full blooded English. - He can out cook 87% of the local grandma's when he really gets into it - He built an unnaturally high tolerance to salt and spice as a kid to keep people from taking his lunch or trying to mess with his food and now thoroughly enjoys spicy foods. - Jon does care a lot but his grandma never taught him to show it in any other way but tolerance and mute acceptance. It's hard to know where you stand with Jon because of this. - Was a runner while in school. - Was forced to take violin lessons as a kid and Georgie taught him some piano in University. - Jon is and always has been feral little man though he is more bark than bite (unless he's under the influence of something). He learned it from his grandma. - He's one of those drunks that often wanders/ runs away from his drinking group. He has strong drunk college girl tendencies. - He changed his middle name to Ulysses when he got his first name legally changed because he’s a nerd. - Jon has had the same pen pal since he was 10. They are one of the few points of normalcy he has left. - Jon and Daisy are trans mlm and wlw solidarity. Fight me.

Fun Fact: Sims means "the Listener" which seems almost too on the nose.

[spikeymarshmallows]

so. real talk re: writing because IDK if I’ve cried about it here or just on all my discords, but i am gonna complain about it here to, mmk.

TLDR: I am sad about writing. I hope rambling about it will help.

I’m so scared that I’ll lose my ability to write TUA fic T.T I was so so productive and guys: I’ve written >300k of TUA fic since mid-December.

But in the past month or so... I’ve really lost it.

Yeah, yeah, I know there’s a lot of shit going on.

But somehow I managed to write a thesis, amidst COVID, and a breakup... I managed through some of the worst depression I’ve experienced in about 10yrs. Like, guys, I was NOT GOOD. I didn’t realise how NOT GOOD I was until I was talking to a pal and realised I hadn’t washed my hair in 10 days and hadn’t showered in 5.

And now... Now I’m just... I’m just so tired...

And the S2 negativity claws at me. I GET IT. I understand why people are upset. Now I’ve had some time away from it.... Yeah, I’m pretty : ( about it too... I have a whole rant about that (not S2--about the fandom) but that’s not for public eyes. Just... I absorb the negativity and it’s not nice. But I also understand and empathise why people are so angry about it.

And then like... People I adore and respect... The fandom has made Klaus be such a way that a lot of people dislike Klaus now... And TBQH: I don’t blame them!! I hate the woobifying we see... People are allowed to do as they please!! But... It’s not to my personal tastes.

And really, I should just write what the fuck I want... I like writing Klaus as he is, and he doesn’t represent the fandoms id, and I like that. But for some reason it gets me down how many people dislike this character I really like....

And honestly, I probs just need to quietly unfollow the people who I absorb the most hurt and negativity off. Or I gotta get better at... IDK, emotionally shielding??

And I worry I’ve burnt out... This happens every time I do a 90k+ fic... : (

And the thing is: I have a really good writing streak going and I don’t wanna break it. And I worry... if I take a break... I’ll have writers block for another year, like I did all of 2019... T.T

So. Anyway. I’m gonna talk about some of the things I really wanna write... and maybe even include some snips... Maybe it’ll make me feel okay? IDK.

[And god, I miss writing my Museum ‘verse but I am pretty blocked there T.T]

But I’ve got a Five Times Diego and Klaus Celebrate Christmas Alone, and One Time They didn’t fic...

And I’ve got this fic... Where Klaus starts learning shibari to help with sobriety and practices on his siblings, and then Diego... well, Diego sinks into subspace so fucking fast.. And we get Diego struggling with submitting/bottoming and... >:) And smut. Much smut. And rope. I really like shibari.

And I have a few fics in the works for the Banned Together Bingo, but the one I’m most excited about involves Diego adopting a dog :O

And I was gonna write “Extra Ordinary” but... That would be sad and horrible. So I’ve decided that I wanna write Klaus’ version.

Here is a snippet:

It's always hard to tell what a person's earliest memory is. All of those years kind of blur together, and all the drugs I took probably didn't help with the memory. And then you've got those 'memories' which may not be memories at all, because they were told to you and you think you can remember them, but maybe you just created a false memory in your mind, and maybe you don't really remember it at all.

But all of that borne in mind: my earliest memory includes one, Diego "Number Two" Hargreeves, throwing his bowl of what I've been told was spaghetti-o's, right at Dad's stupid face.

If you know about Diego's powers, you can imagine why this was absolutely fucking hilarious then and is even funnier now.

If you've been off in the wild, being raised by wolves and have never encountered any form of pop culture, and thus don't know: Number Two has the ability to change the trajectory of objects in motion. No matter what he throws, it always hits its target.

And its target? Dad's face.

It was a masterpiece. Easily one of the best days of my life.

I don't know if this is actually my earliest memory. But I like to think it is.

And I just want... ridiculous stories of these kids... and they’ll be in Klaus Style, and then there’ll be a chapter where Klaus is like:

And then he locked me in a crypt for ten hours.

That’s it. That’s the chapter. So all this chaos... and then this seriousness, that’ll hopefully be so abrupt that it gives emotional whiplash.

And I wanna write a Hogwarts AU, Enemies to Lovers. I’ve got a few ideas... Like... Maybe each “year” is told from the perspective of each of the seven... Allison and Luther getting together early, but Klaus and Diego taking years to get there.... Five, resentfully, a Hufflepuff, and absolutely enamoured with Vanya. Ben, long-suffering. All of them playing Quidditch... HNNNGGGG. I have a lot of ideas here.... But no Plot TM.

And a What’s Your Number AU. That’s it. That’s the plot. Maybe... with Justin and David... Or Ben and Diego.... >.> IDK man.

And I want Demon!Klaus and Angel!Diego... No plot there. Just want it... Maybe I should watch Good Omens and see if that’d make a fun AU....

And then we have [look, I’m just going through my Scrivener rn...] a High School musical AU. Not the movie... But like... The kids are in a school, and it’s putting on a musical... Angry but shy loner Diego, who can seriously dance, and disaster Klaus, and Allison who wants to be the star of everything, and Luther just has such a crush on her and MUST be in the musical to play her love interest, otherwise he’ll never find the courage to talk to her....

And then! Another High School AU. Instead of Ben dying... he nearly dies. And Child Protection are finally like “hmmm, this is child abuse...” and takes the kids away. Allison, in a panic, Rumours that they stay together... And then... chaos. Throwing the seven into public school, when they’ve never interacted with others... God. The sheer ridiculousness... And I really love the ending I’ve got planned for it T.T

I’ve also got a few S2-inspired ideas... Klaus lands in the 60's but hits his head and doesn't remember anything. He doesn't remember that he can see ghosts and so ends up absolutely terrified, and put into an asylum. Diego lands a year later, and is also put into the asylum. He sees what might be Klaus, but no. No, it can't be… Or can it? T.T And then they gotta escape and... T.T

And then I wanna project all my feelings onto Klaus struggling with being touch-averse and yet also someone that desperately wants to touch the ones he loves, but... it makes his skin crawl. [SO MUCH PROJECTION.]

And then I have a fic idea that I can’t talk about because it’s a gift for someone...

And then... Justin and David fic..... >.>

And last night... I had an incredible idea for a sci-fi, dystopian AU... It’d be a lot more Serious than the other stuff I’ve written. And I REALLY want my writing powers back because I HAVE THINGS I WANNA WRITE... T.T And those are just the fic ideas that have words in Scrivener...

But this sci-fi thing would be.... it would be an Epic. But maybe I could do it in <30k... IDK.

Anyway. I was feeling good again, and then checked Tumblr and....

I’m going to try to crawl to bed and take a valium, because the mood is so low that it might as well be in the ground.

[hobidreams]

If you’re still taking requests could you please do a reaction where the boys find out their girlfriend doesn’t really take care of herself that well? Like she forgets to eat meals and doesn’t sleep very well? If that makes sense

Thank you for the request! I had fun writing them. The rest of the boys are under the cut - sorry to mobile users if Tumblr ruins it.

Namjoon

“When’s the last time you slept?” Namjoon’s tone is most definitely unamused as he takes in the bags beneath your eyes, the way you move your limbs lazily because they feel heavy.

“Last night.” It’s not a lie, technically. You did sleep. For an hour. But your thesis is haunting you, keeping you up and consuming all of your thoughts. New ideas or directions just consistently pop into your brain, demanding to be written or explored. Nobody can fault you for being dedicated, right?

Namjoon crosses his arms. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s tru—whoa!” You’re suddenly scooped up in Namjoon’s arms. He nudges the bedroom door open with a foot and plops the both of you onto the bed. “Joon, I have to work!”

“Nope.” He wraps himself around you, legs holding yours still, so you can’t fidget and keep yourself awake. “Close your eyes. Just tell yourself I’m the bad guy who misses you too much to let you go.” He drops kisses in your hair. As you breathe in his scent, relax into his heat, you feel your eyes droop. When Namjoon feels your resistance slack, he smiles, cheeks slightly dimpling. “Goodnight, baby.”

Seokjin

There’s a knock on your door one night when you’re in the middle of working. Not expecting anyone, you’re surprised when you look through the peephole and see Jin, carrying a duffel bag and a brown paper bag from your favorite bakery. “Jin? What’re you doing here?”

“When you called me earlier… You sounded tired.” His voice is soft, drenched with concern and fondness. “I have a few days off, so can I stay here with you?”

Your heart soars, but logic keeps you in check. “What about the guys? They’ll miss you.”

“Eh, they’ll be fine.” You step aside and Jin walks in, dropping his duffel on the couch. “I brought some leftover groceries that I have to use up, so you’re going to have to eat whatever I make, okay?” He pulls out a bag that’s full of meat and veggies, obviously bought just before he came. “And I picked up your favorite almond croissants!”

“Jin, I—”

“I know you have a lot of work to do.” On his way to the fridge, he pauses to tug you into his arms for a hug. “I’ll keep myself busy. But I want to go to bed at the same time. Before midnight.”

All you can do is smile. He’s more astute than you realized, though you should have thought better than to try and fool him. Your stomach growls in happy anticipation.

“Now, go work.” His eyes crinkle as he lets you go. “I’ve got cooking to do.”

Yoongi

Your head is throbbing, absolutely pounding, again. If it were up to you, you would crawl to your bed and stay there for the next week. But deadlines have to be met, and you’re the one who has to meet them. Your stomach growls but you barely register it, having been ignoring it for the last… who knows how long. Almost done, you think like a mantra, I’m almost done.

Suddenly, a plate laden with fruit is set down next to you. You pull out an earbud and turn to find your boyfriend, his lips slightly downturned in a frown. “Eat. Please.”

“I—”

“Please,” he repeats, handing you the handle of the fork. “And come to bed when you’re done.”

“I don’t have time to sleep, babe.” You chew the apple that he’s cut into bite-sized cubes for you.

“You can spare an hour.” He turns those sweet eyes on you.

You know you can’t argue, especially not when he’s just as busy as you are. But when he can, he always makes time in his schedule to check in on his lady. So you manage to smile back at him. “Okay. I’ll be in soon, I promise.”

“Good.” He fondly strokes your cheek with a finger. “I’ll be waiting.”

Hoseok

When Hoseok gets home, he finds you passed out on top of the bed, still in all the clothes you wore out today. He sighs, helping you up to strip off your blazer. You don’t even stir until he’s sliding off your pants to replace them with your pajamas.

“Mmmn… Hobi?”

“Shhh, just keep sleeping,” he murmurs, unbuttoning your top. “You worked too hard again, baby.” His voice is forlorn, heartbreaking as he supports your weight.

“Almost… finished…” Your head lolls as he pulls the t-shirt over your head. Then he’s guiding you under the covers, tucking the blankets beneath your chin.

“No, you can’t keep pushing yourself like this.” He watches you slip back into sleep ten seconds after your head hits the pillow. “I’ll come every day if that’s what it takes.” He’s busy, but he’ll make time, damn it. He can’t just do nothing. Not when you’re one of the most precious things in his life. “I’ll go make you dinner. Sleep well.”

On his way to the kitchen, he tidies up. He makes sure your desk is neat, stray papers recycled, clothes hung up. If these small things will help you feel even the tiniest bit better, he’ll do them. This time, he’ll take care of you, like you always take care of him.

Jimin

When you come home from another grueling day at work, Jimin is sitting on the couch. A sober look paints his delicate features, his brow furrowed as you shut the door, drop your keys, and strip off your jacket and shoes. “Hey,” you greet, voice quiet as you attempt to decipher what’s going on in his mind.

“Can we talk?” He murmurs, just as tenderly as you walk over, sit down next to him on the sofa.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m…” He pauses, choosing his words. “I’m worried about you, angel.”

“What?” You balk, searching through your memories as you try to recall if you’ve done anything to warrant concern over.

“You’ve lost weight. You’re not eating. You barely sleep. I’ve caught you slumped over your desk so many times.” His words are practically shaking, brimming with emotion. “Is something wrong? Is there something bothering you?”

“No, no…” You nervously play with the strands of your hair. “It’s just. I want to do a good job on this project, so I guess I’ve been forgetting everything else.”

Jimin heaves a sigh. “I love you and I love how hard you work. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned… It’s that you have to put yourself first.” His palm is warm when he lays it on your thigh, his eyes holding yours captive. “I know I can’t be around all the time, but I’ll try my best. So please, take care of my girl when I’m not here, yeah?”

You nod, leaning forward to kiss him. “Thank you, Jimin. For caring so much.”

He rests his forehead against yours. “Always.”

Taehyung

“Say ahhh!” Taehyung grins like sunshine as he holds up a lettuce wrap that he assembled himself. It’s stuffed full of meat, with the onions and sauce added just the way you like it.

“Tae, it’s going to get all over the laptop,” you mumble, having gotten used to ignoring the call of your stomach. “You eat it, babe, I’ll get some food later.”

“You said that hours ago.” He frowns, holding the wrap and swaying it like an airplane. “Just one wrap!”

“Tae, I…” you swivel towards him and realize that while his tone may be joking, his eyes are dead serious. You gulp. “Okay. Ahhh.” You play along, letting him feed you the tasty wrap.

“Good?” He beams.

“Delicious.” A bit of sauce dribbles down your lips and he kisses you before lapping it up with his tongue. “Tae!” You’re giggling now.

He wipes your chin with a napkin. “Couldn’t resist.” Cutely, he purses his mouth to blow an air kiss as he stands up. “I’m going to make you some more. I’ll leave some in the fridge too, so you have to eat them when I’m not here to feed you. Or I’ll be sad.”

“Oh, Tae. What would I do without you?”

Taehyung pokes his head back in from the kitchen. “Lucky for you, you’ll never find out!”

Jungkook

The clock on your phone reads three in the morning, and you can’t sleep. Again. You groan, rolling over among the bedsheets. It’s been a rough few weeks, your body rebelling against any attempt to get some rest so you just gave up trying. You average about two and a half hours a night, but at least you’re getting shit done. You’re only here now because Jungkook insisted. You gave it your best shot, and it just wasn’t good enough.

Gingerly, you peel the blankets off and your feet are about to hit the floor when Jungkook groans. His hand finds your waist and he’s drawing you back. “Stay,” he mumbles, “stay with me.”

Your heart melts, but you try to stay focused. “I have to work, Jungkook.”

He’s so sleepy in his own right, but a hand is creeping beneath your top, palm hot on your back. He starts to rub soothing circles, a technique he knows always makes you relax. “You need… sleep…” He plants lazy kisses on your shoulder. “You’re always tired, babe.” He uses just enough pressure on your aching muscles. “I’ll keep going until you fall asleep.”

You let your eyes shut, taking deep breaths, focus on his comfort, his heat. He watches you fall asleep again, a stirring in his chest at how precious you look with your bangs swept over your nose, your mouth half-parted. “I love you,” he whispers. “So let me be here for you.”

[kuriyamamirairageblog]

Hello again. It’s been a while, huh? Nearly two years, it seems. Yesterday I felt the sudden urge to come around and give a status update on my blog. But, as it was already too late in the night, I figured I’d save it for today. Lots of things have happened in between now and then, so I guess I’ll save the details and jump to the main key aspects. I have finished my bachelors in psychology and started a master’s degree in cognitive neurosciences and neuropsychology. I don’t dislike the subjects studied, but I’m not enjoying the experience. I’m tired of studying the same things over and over. It feels like I’m constantly repeating the same subjects. It makes me feel demotivated. I end up slacking off when I should be doing productive things, and when I reach time periods dangerously close to deadlines, I feel like I’m about to burst with anxiety. Regardless, I’ve maintained a high-average sort of performance, which is great, considering I would like to have the course finished. There is however a set back... I hate the idea of the upcoming internship and master’s thesis. I just feel like it’s a degree of difficulty way too high for what I’ve been prepared for. Besides, just like in other professional areas, theory is a lot different from the actual clinical practice. A few people who work at certain institutes in Portugal went to lecture us during classes. They gave us their testimony about what it was like to work as a neuropsychologist. They were all arrogant people who frankly seemed to care a lot about their work but had not successfully managed to develop as human beings. I suppose I could develop a theory about “Artificial Sense of Empathy”, seen as I’ve been witnessing many cases of psychologists who seem too far away from humanity. Investigation is a no-go, too. I’m not good at it at all, and it doesn’t interest me the slightest. I have no drive for it. It’s dull to me. It’s a torturous kind of work, that I would not be able to do as a lifestyle. I worked as a waiter in a restaurant last summer. It was only good for a few weeks while I was learning the basics, and it was definitely a very outstanding experience in the aspect that I definitely won’t forget it and still talk a lot about it nowadays. But then things got kind of grim. I actually don’t mind the work in hospitality. It was fun to talk to costumers, serve tables, clean things, carry things around in the warehouse and what not. It was honestly amusing, and I can’t say it was a bad wage for a summer job at all. But, as the summer progressed, the boss and the work colleagues got progressively more stressed and started taking their frustrations out on the job. Moreover, due to relationship circumstances not having been the best at the time either, I got really into the job and decided to work in it full time, to get my mind out of things. That decision allowed me to get a very good understanding of what I was getting into, but it also had consequences. I was going in at 10:30 in the morning, leaving for “lunch break” at 4/5pm, then back in at 7  and only leaving at midnight again. Repeat: day after day, only with days off at Monday, from June to mid September. I can almost say that i had no summer, but i learned a lot along the way. I learned from experience the type of effort my parents had to make to able to afford the kind of lifestyle I have, with studies and things like that. But I can’t say it made me value my studies more... I know for a fact now that I won’t be able to handle a life like that because, at some point, I burned out completely and my psychological condition didn’t allow me to move. So I made the decision of never working full time on hospitality again, seen as I don’t want to go insane or have to deal with my colleagues’ frustrations. But I’ve got to make a living somehow and pay bills at some point, so I can’t just go on with part-time jobs forever... And if I don’t want to work in a restaurant like that nor as a neuropsychologist, then, what am I supposed to do? I’ve picked up the hobby of drawing. I got decent at it. Not too good. But decent. And I’ve always liked things like jewels and video games and things of the sort. I wish I could make a living out of something pleasurable like drawing or making jewelry, or even drawing video game characters and writing background stories... Something fantasy-ish that could really get me involved and grow attached to what I do. But there’s nothing like that for me here, and I’m not sure of how to look for it either. But I must confess I’m also very lazy. By now, I could have posted my drawings on tumblr or on deviantart, or something like that to see if I can attract notoriety. But i haven’t and there really is no excuse for it: it’s because I’m lazy and simply haven’t gotten around to do it. Because, instead of being productive, I watch videos or play computer games. I think I’m never really going to get anywhere if I keep at it like that, but for some reason, I just can’t get myself to move my own ass. I’m just so demoralized in that aspect, I always think that nothing is worth the effort. I can’t go on living like this. I must find a way to change that somehow. However, when it comes to the affection matter, things have taken a very complex journey into a place that I can be satisfied with. I’ll try to cut it as short as possible: I got involved with a guy who wasn’t very good for me. He wasn’t a healthy person. Not from the physical point of view, nor from the psychological one either. Moreover, he was economically dependent on a guy he had a relationship with but who he claimed he didn’t love. I thought I was able to support him - that I was strong enough. But I wasn’t, and my love for him didn’t last forever, either. It’s pointless to try to help someone when that someone is making active efforts to counter what you do for them. And I guess it’s preferable to suffer for not having someone than to fight for someone who you love but doesn’t want you back. I think I might have lost a few good friends because of how invested I was in him. At some point, a really close friend of mine told me that I had to learn how to let go and take care of myself, to end the suffering I was in. I can’t say i learned how to let go, but I can say that I learned that I should not disrespect myself to the point of bringing myself down for people who don’t deserve the effort. Careful assessment of one’s worth is necessary. I didn’t see a way out of the case I was in without getting my hands dirty though. I had already tried before to end things peacefully. I was not allowed to leave though. Not because of violence or anything, don’t get the wrong idea. But either he came crawling back or I felt like I couldn’t hold on and I’d try to reach out to him again. So I did things the only way I know. I created an entanglement of lies that I knew would collapse in such way they would destroy everything. He wouldn’t try to reach out to me and I wouldn’t try to reach out to him. It was a near success. I haven’t spoken to him in months and I’m feeling great about that. He tried to reach me a couple of times before via text messaging, but I was a smart fox and kept his number recorded on my cell phone. Every time i receive a text from him, I don’t read it. I delete it. A few months ago I joined a gay dating website. I didn’t have any objective in mind, I just didn’t like not having anyone to talk to. And I know I enjoy the company of men, to some extent, even if I don’t like sex as much as they do. A guy with a very revealing profile picture came texting me out of nowhere. I thought to myself  “oh my, what does this dog want from me?” I almost didn’t answer to his message, but at the time, I was in a “What the hell” mood, so I did. And he’s a gamer. And he’s a biologist. And he’s smart. And he’s super cute. And he makes me really happy. We’ve been dating for nearly three months now and we’re planning a living together. We’ve talked about getting married, and sooner or later, it’s bound to happen. For some reason, I have never felt I could trust someone like this. Of course I have certain insecurities. For example, he’s bisexual, I’m always a little worried that he might crave girls all of a sudden, because that’s always what happened to me in my previous experience with bisexual guys. But he lets me talk about my worries with him. He’s very empathetic and understanding with me, and I can calmly talk about any issue with him. And he does certain things that make me feel like he’s really into me and would never swap me out for anyone else. Everyday he makes efforts to make me believe that. And, even though, I can never reach the 100% trust because of my previous experiences and the scars they left me, I can say I’ve gotten as close as 99%. Love can’t be experienced in the same way for two different people, but I think I have fallen in love for the right person this time, and even if all else goes bad, I still have him. I hope so, anyway. Because, right now, where everything else seems so stressing with work, anxiety and lack of motivation to do things other than playing video games, he’s always there with me, and comes see me every day even though he has to drive all the way here.  I don’t really know what else to say. I feel like that’s already a pretty big post as is. I don’t know how regularly I’ll be posting, but I guess that would be whenever I feel like it. Sometimes, I feel like I complain too much, even though I should be more grateful for the things that happen to me. But I guess that’s just the way I am. And even though I complain about a lot of things, I know that I can appreciate the good things that come in my way.