#I've been mentally doing so well until like two weeks ago

[fragglerockopinions]

Bro are you ok I don't know you but I'm very worried for u :(

Hello I've gotten a few asks along these lines so I feel it's okay to vent a little thank you for asking (⁠ ⁠･ั⁠﹏⁠･ั⁠)

It's been college finals time which has messed up my schedule so much that I haven't eaten anything in like a week because my autism says "this is different and we aren't safe no food for you" and that conveniently coincided with my antidepressants running out and I didn't sleep at all last night because I was working on a project until genuinely twenty minutes before the exam at 8am. but biggest and most devastating and important is that I have to move back in with my extremely abusive parents today and they have already been yelling at me and belittling me and I'm not even there yet.

[heartshattering]

5 AM

Just me and my overactive mind facing the nighttime again 🙃

[kerink]

the thing that's been most surprising to me with mouthwashing so far is how little empathy people are willing to extend to curly. and i don't mean this in a piss on the poor way, i'm deeply saddened and genuinely confused by it.

when i first played the game i was at one of the lowest points i've been at in a really long time. my mental health is bad my physical health is bad. i experienced SA a year ago and was recently diagnosed with cancer. i have 2-5 doctors appointments every week with various specialists.

all the while me and two of my doctors are talking about if i need to make a career change that's going to best support my poor health and improve my overall well being. and my family and friends struggle to understand, because i have a doctorate and a good job and live on my own. everyone looks at my life in awe, and they don't understand why i'm unhappy. they tell me so every time i try to explain it.

so when i played i immediately identified with curly. here is a man who's deeply depressed, having hallucinations, trying to reach out to his best friend for support but just has his words thrown back in his face, doesn't want to burden anya with his stuff because she has her own stuff and he wants her to lean on him, he has all these responsibilities and people look up to him and rely on him and have these ideas about him. the highest wrung of their ladder is the lowest of his, and they have no way of conceptualizing why or how he's unhappy and dissatisfied. before the reveal that he's innocent, i completely understood why he attempted suicide.

and then he develops a new disability.

when jimmy goes to crash the ship, he uses curly's unhappiness to try to convince him a murder-suicide is a good idea, and it works. it buys jimmy enough time to get to the cockpit and crash the ship. curly's too in his own head to realize what jimmy meant because jimmy distracted him with how bad his life is. it isn't until the sirens start that curly snaps out of it and it clicks for him what jimmy's done.

i'm not going to re-litigate the issue about if curly could have done more for anya because i've said pretty much all i have to say on it already.

but we really need to highlight that in addition to his lack of tangible choices, he's sleep deprived, deeply depressed, and hallucinating. this is not a man in his right mind making his best choices.

and over and over again i see people refusing to extend him any empathy, to call him a bystander. does a man who says he'll do anything to help and who wanted to be there when anya broke the news and who does his best to play liaison between anya and jimmy sound like a bystander? he let anya keep the gun case! he knew having it would help her feel better!

how good of a friend have you been when you were in your pit of despair? how much were you able to pour into others when your glass was empty?

anya wanted her and curly's support to be reciprocal. if she has enough psych training to do the evals, and having been thru nursing school, she's probably well aware that she and curly need to both be pouring into each other if either of them are going to be any good to anyone. but curly is so determined to defend and protect anya he won't confide in her, despite the fact it's running him so thin that he almost takes jimmy's bait that suicide is a good idea.

i don't think we need to absolve curly of his responsibility. i don't think we should over look his role as an enabler. i don't think we should discredit or discount analyses of his failures. but i'm so tired of people actively avoiding getting in his shoes, getting in his head, reflecting on how they've acted in the past when thinking and feeling similar ways. our worst moments don't make us monsters.

it makes me so sad. and frankly it makes me feel like all the times my family hasn't understood when i've tried to reach out. curly is screaming in agony and just like jimmy we're just trying to keep him quiet because it's too complicated to deal with.

[muniimyg]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (16) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist request closed

note: please prioritize your mental health and peace if the following content is too heavy for you. this portion of the plot has a lot of angst, and arguing. overall contains sensitive topics. thank you all for waiting so well for the break-up reveal!

tw: mentions of anxiety/stress/insomnia/ and postpartum depression,, early pregnancy loss (5 weeks), and self-neglect.

🏷️ permanent taglist:

@joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

"so... jungkook moved back in, he bought you a new car, and this entire time you've been broken up—you've been sleeping with him?"

it feels stupid to confess everything to your therapist.

you’ve been avoiding this for 9 months now. 

today it has to be settled. 

it has to be over. 

this feeling in the pit of your stomach that makes you want to throw up over and over again until you have nothing left inside of you. your lips tighten at the way your therapist blinks at you. you've never really been able to read her, but maybe that's what you like so much about her.

sometimes, it's nice not to know and just to take what people say as they are.

"he's not actually moved back in... he just has more closet space."

your therapist notes something down on her pad. then, she looks at you and simply comments, "i see... is that all you think it is? more closet space?"

"y-yes? n-no... no. okay, it's not like we're not back together though..." you begin to explain yourself.

"but you've been sleeping with him the entire time you guys have been broken up?"

you make a face.

your therapist tilts her head and lets out a light sigh. 

"i'm not judging. you two are adults. you both have needs. you both need each other. you both love each other. i'm just clarifying that—"

"okay, yes," you yield. "i have been sleeping with my babydaddy but haven’t gotten back together with him... i mean—we kind of are? to be fair, the break-up wasn’t a real break-up... it just grew into one. i take the blame for the dumping because i was the one who pulled away. so inevitably, i can't help but feel like a villain in all of it... am i? am i the villain? zion had this whole thing about what family is like, a home with another kid from his daycare, and it... it made me feel so guilty. jungkook and i talked about it and worked on it... i know he doesn't blame me, but every time i bring myself closer to... what do i even call this? ... forgiving him? forgiving myself? i d-don't know... all i know is that... every time i want to move on and just be happy—with him. with zion... with my life—i can't find it in me. i pull away, and it hurts everyone around us. sometimes, i wonder if they know it hurts me too."

"what does that mean?" she asks, her tone soft and curious. "good job getting that off your chest. you're doing great, ___."

mumbling a 'thank you,' you sigh and shrug your shoulders. honestly, you can’t think. your mind goes blank. she then sits up, fixing her posture. leaning forward, she makes her observation.

"___, you broke up with jungkook 9 months ago because of the circumstances. sure, he was supportive and understanding, but sometimes, when everything gets too much, the only person who can fix you is yourself. ___, it was a lot. it was heavy. one thing I've noticed about you is that you think and speak as if everything has to be this big thing. you know your emotions are bigger than the problem, yet you suppress them. it's okay to feel them because when you don't, you start to lose yourself. sometimes, it sounds to me like you want to burn the room down for people to empathize with you... for people to see you. for you to see yourself even."

"i don't want to burn anything down—"

"it's an analogy," she explains. "the truth is, for you, being burned out isn’t a thing until you can’t get out of bed. burnout is as simple as not wanting coffee anymore. sometimes, it's losing yourself to stress and anxiety... and people see that. jungkook, your friends, and your parents saw it. you don’t have to prove it. ___, you can’t keep pushing yourself until you can’t run anymore. you have to slow down. you have to let yourself be tired and learn how to rest."

you nod, agreeing with her take. then, you make another confession.

"i understand that," you take a deep breath. "but it’s like… before i knew it, i was upset and unfit for our relationship. i screwed up too early. that's why i broke up with him... but now... i don’t know. the guilt and blame keep pointing in different directions. i don’t know what i'm doing, and i can't do that. i can't not know when it comes to the father of my child and the love of my life."

your therapist purses her lips and offers you a small smile.

"then, ___... is it possible that things are better now? that it's more than his clothes in your home? that the room isn’t burning anymore? is it that maybe... finally, you’re realizing that being tired and burnt out is a part of life? ___, you’ve done nothing but get everything right since your childhood... to let your feelings—good or bad—be true and big isn’t a flaw. it’s you being human."

her words hit you, but not enough to stop your insecurities. with shaky eyes, you ask her, "w-what if i do it again?"

"do what again? burnout?"

"what if i fuck up everything about my life again? my career? motherhood? jungkook and i’s relationship? it hurt so bad... to wake up next to my family and not feel anything. it was so fucking hard... i couldn’t even pretend that i was okay. a-and when i asked for some air... he wasn’t even mad at me. he packed his bags and lost his breath from crying so much. at the door, he asked me if i was sure... and even though i wasn’t; i said yes...." you explain, your voice growing quieter with each word.

suddenly, everything feels so heavy. 

if there was ever a time to understand and relate to the feeling of the world being on your shoulders... this would be that moment. taking a breath, you compose yourself.

"i can’t do that again," you vow. "i can’t change my mind."

"you can’t change your mind again or you can’t hurt like that again?"

you pause.

"9 months ago, my mind kept going back and forth whether or not jungkook cared about me," you confess. "but i recently realized he does. he has. he always will... i just don’t know if i can trust him the same as before... i think i’m a horrible person for thinking that. weird, right? especially with how fucking horrible i am to him now."

"that’s not true." your therapist disagrees. "___, it was traumatic. you went through a lot—"

"—and i will never understand how he held himself together. when he was accused of plagiarism at his company, i took those accusations and sued until jungkook’s name was spotless. it was hard on both of us. he didn’t want me to go that far because they were his coworkers—his ‘friends’—but why... why was he so pathetic then? those people were out to ruin him. they quit the company and went to jyp. they proposed work that belonged to jungkook... it was a conflict of interest! when jungkook launched his work with hybe, jyp accused him of plagiarism. hybe cut ties with him and his company gave him so much shit for losing hybe. and i, his girlfriend and mother of his child, risked my career to focus on his case instead of my clients. i chose him. i did everything to fight for him. then, he told me he wanted to settle and stay at the company... i couldn’t believe it... he had his reputation on the line—his career! mine was too and all for what? because he didn’t want to embarrass his friends? because he didn’t want to cause the company more trouble? then, what about me? what about us?"

your therapist looks at you with sincere eyes. she nods, taking your words in. 

"___, does he know you’re still upset with his decision?"

"yes," you sigh, recalling how betrayed you felt. "w-we don’t talk about it. how do we? it felt like i wasted 2 months of my life and we lost our—we lost."

your therapist reaches over and offers you the tissue box. you didn’t even realize you were crying... but the silence between you two and the ache from the words that you just said begins to sting your chest.

after a few moments, your therapist softly tells you, "___, i don’t think you left him because you didn’t love him... i think you left because, despite everything, you did. that hurt because it meant loving him and putting him before yourself... on top of that, you were at a state where you should have been put first."

you gulp.

she purses her lips and makes her hit.

"___, do you resent yourself for the loss?"

you clench your fist as your therapist rubs salt into your open wounds. "the self-neglect? the stress? the post-partum depression? the insomia—"

"i resent myself for the loss," you admit. "... and i resent jungkook for losing me."

when you arrive home, jungkook is in the kitchen cooking. 

you didn’t expect him to be home. he was supposed to be picking zion up at this time and you were looking forward to some alone time. clearly, you have a lot to think about. as you take off your shoes, jungkook turns his attention to you.

“hi honey,” he smiles brightly. 

truth be told, he had a long day. he was running late this morning and had rushed out the door. as he drove to work, he got annoyed with himself. 

he forgot to kiss you before he left. 

so you can imagine just how excited he is to see you now… especially with all he has planned for tonight. 

“we had a meeting today and it ended early. it went really well so i have some news! also, i picked zion up right after my meeting. took him out for a little father-and-son afternoon... then, i dropped him off at your parents—”

“why would you do that?” you snap, putting your things away.

jungkook chuckles. “uh, maybe because i wanna ask you something tonight…”

your body stiffens.

“but we’ll get to that later! do you want to eat first? i’m cooking your favorite—”

“please stop,” you shut your eyes and take a breath. “jungkook, i had a long day. i’m glad yours was good and you got to bond with zion. i appreciate the effort—i just don’t… i don’t like that you dropped zion off at my parents after picking him up early from daycare. why didn’t you just take him home? and thank you for cooking... but i had a late lunch today, so i’m not hungry.”

“is it so bad i want to spend time with you alone?” jungkook asks, his smile fading. 

jungkook isn’t stupid. 

he knows you’re not in the mood, but he can’t help but push your boundaries a little. besides, communication is always good, right? at least, that’s what he’s been told. 

“it’s okay if you don’t want to eat... as long as you ate today. what did you eat?” he attempts. 

you move past jungkook as he asks you the question. taking out your phone, you check for any missed messages. jungkook’s eyebrows furrow as you ignore him. he catches your waist and guides you against the kitchen counter. grabbing your phone from your hands, he puts it aside.

“woah,” he pouts. “what’s up? why are you acting like this?”

you look at jungkook and hate yourself. his eyes are so kind and full of love. 

you know it. 

you feel it. 

it hurts so bad.

“what’s with the mood?” he asks, more gently this time. 

jungkook moves his hands from your waist to wrap around you. he nuzzles himself into the crook of your neck and hugs you tightly. “if you’re mad at me about something, that’s okay... but be angry here. don’t ignore me. being angry together is better than not being together at all.”

his plea makes your eyes tear up.

this isn’t easy for you either, but to be honest... it’s now or never. tonight, your heart feels especially heavy. you can’t blame it. some people say time heals all wounds—perhaps, this is it. 

this is the time limit.

“can i tell you my news?” he asks, partly trying to stall the conversation and partly because it was good news. 

“sure.”

“i got a job offer,” jungkook says. “i’d have to do an informal interview but it’s basically mine if i want it. they’re setting up a branch in new york. they want me to go there for 3-6 months and help start everything up. guide and mentor the visual director there—”

“that’s amazing—”

“i don’t want it,” jungkook chuckles. “they told me to sleep on it and make my decision in a month. until then, they offered me a raise! isn’t that great?”

your smile drops. 

all of the feelings you’ve been trying to regulate since you stepped out of your therapist's office today feel like they’ve gone out the window. was he serious? he declined such a big step in his career—for a raise? 

“jungkook,” you croak. “do you know why we broke up?”

he pulls away. 

what a fucking switch up. he doesn’t understand. 

for a moment, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. does he reach out to hold yours or keep them by his side? he’s caught off guard. he doesn’t know how to answer you and frankly, he fucking hates this question.

“uh, why are you asking me—”

“what was the other thing?” you ask, already suspecting it. “are you going to ask me to marry you tonight?” you blurt. 

he shoves his hand in his pocket. 

“jungkook, are you asking me to marry you tonight? yes or no?”

he blinks at you. 

his heart is prepared more than ever; “yes.”

“don’t.”

jungkook’s heart drops.

“don’t because you’re saying no or don’t because you want a better proposal?” he attempts to lighten the mood with a smile. he takes his hands out of his pocket and reaches for yours. you don’t let him take it. instead, you shake your head.

“don’t because you don’t even know why we’re broken up.”

instantly, the tension between you two increases. it’s through the roof, actually. it feels like one wrong word, one wrong move, one wrong recalled memory—everything crumbles.

everything fails.

everything faces the end.

“___, i can’t answer your question because i’m not prepared to. honestly, i wasn’t prepared for the break-up. it just happened. it grew into one. ___, you never said, ‘jungkook, it’s over. we’re broken up.’ ... no. you said, ‘jungkook... i can’t breathe anymore. i need air. i need space from us,’ — that’s what you said. but to hell with that, right? we’ve been sleeping together and it’s not like we hate each other. you love me. i know you do... so i really don’t understand why you won’t marry me despite knowing the simple truth—”

you move away from him.

god, it’s so hard to be next to him sometimes. 

heading to the cabinets, you take out a glass and pour yourself some water. drinking it, you hear jungkook sigh and groan in frustration.

“are we really going to fight tonight?” he asks, annoyed.

you shrug and put your water down. “shouldn’t we? it’s kind of overdue.”

jungkook scratches the back of his head. his lips tighten and his mind is already dizzy as he asks;

“___, why did you break up with me?”

a beat.

“i wanted more from you.”

he looks at you confused. “the fuck does that mean? sex?”

you shake your head.

“jungkook, i was moving up with my career. you were constantly annoyed that i was overworking myself and that i only cared about zion. you were always mad at me when i brought up work—especially about yours. you didn’t want more. you refused the promotions and all the different leadership roles. you refused more hours—you refused to grow… just like now.”

jungkook huffs. “is this about money again? we’ve never had issues providing for zion and this lifestyle.”

“again?” you chuckle. “honey, it wasn’t about the money. at least to me, it wasn’t. i love you and would have married you regardless of my career path and yours—”

“then why won’t you marry me? you always say you will but you say shit like this. you know it fucks me up, right? this isn’t fair. you can’t keep changing your mind.”

“it’s not that i don’t know what you are to me and what i want,” you take a deep breath. it feels painful to be right. “it’s that marrying you isn’t going to make any of this easier. at least, not right now.”

his eyes are filled with hope. 

hope that maybe the reason is childish and not what he knows it really is. he hopes it’s because he left one too many socks inches away from the laundry hamper in your bedroom. he hopes it’s because you got tired of him always queuing his karaoke songs in the car before yours. he hopes it’s because (not really) you actually took an interest in nam joon or something.

most of all, he hopes it’s not what he knows it is.

“jungkook, we were disagreeing on everything. you thought i was greedy for wanting more for myself—for our family—”

“so it’s about whether or not i accept the job offer? i still have a month to think about it. i can’t just leave you and zion. you get that, right? i don’t just leave.” jungkook scoffs in disbelief. “and you act like i didn’t just get promoted. i accepted it, didn’t i? i did so to impress you because i love you. i did it to win you back because i love you.”

“but why didn’t you do it for yourself?” you fuse. “why can’t you want more for yourself?”

“___, i love you—”

you hiss, taking a step away from him. “stop saying you love me when you—”

“when i what?” jungkook steadies his tone. “when i made a decision that you didn’t like? ___, i made a practical choice back then. what other option did i have?”

“you chose wrong,” you cry. “is that what you’ve been waiting for me to say? jungkook, you chose wrong because you were afraid! it wasn’t practical. it was safe. you took the settlement, forgave those friends, and looked stupid while doing it. meanwhile, i risked everything. i fucking fought for you! for what? jungkook, it ruined us.”

jungkook shifts, taking a step closer to you. he runs his hands through his hair and groans.

“___, they have a family too. they fucked up and they apologized. i didn’t go through with the lawsuit because regardless if they deserved it—their families didn’t. their children didn’t. for fucks sake, one of them has a daughter zion’s age—”

a sob escapes your lips. 

jungkook’s shoulders slump as he lowers his head. you lower yours too, feeling your tears roll down your cheeks.

“jungkook, i love you,” you weakly admit. “i swear to god, i have never loved anyone more in my life than i have ever loved you. you’re the kindest man i’ve ever met. you empathize with others and put them before your needs. you chased me around like a fucking dog for the last 9 months, completely disregarding any self-respect. truth be told, you gave me a purpose to live. you made me zion’s mom and the love of your life. in so many ways, i don’t deserve you… but i also don’t deserve this. it feels like even when i can't trust you—i still do. it ruins me, jungkook.”

angry, jungkook disagrees.

“what are you fucking talking about—no. don’t say shit like that.”

“you kept me together for so long that i don’t know how to fall apart if you’re not around. jungkook, i had to fall apart. i was so tired then. i was so unhappy and everything you did to hold me together only angered me. it lit this fire inside of me and i felt like i couldn’t touch anything or anyone… why couldn’t you just be sad with me?”

“you fell apart before i could even process what happened—” he recalls, tears threatening his eyes. “___, i was devastated beyond belief. i was sad too. i was afraid too. you don’t think i wanted to cry in bed all day with you? i had to get up. i had to take care of zion and i’m sorry if i held onto you tighter than i should have—but i had to. there was no other way i could’ve lived if i didn’t hold on to you like that. you’re my air. i love you, ___ and in case you didn’t know; it hurt me too. losing our—h-holy fuck. i love you. ___, i love you. please, i love you so much—”

you sob.

you don’t even try to hold yourself together. a heavy cry escapes your lips and jungkook instantly lifts his head and comes to you. he wraps you in his arms as you cry into them.

“i love you,” you whimper. “i don’t blame you for it—really, i don’t. b-but why did you stay? i worked so hard and you chose to stay. i stressed myself out and couldn’t sleep. i felt so betrayed and i wasn’t eating—”

“i know, i know,” he murmurs, holding back his sobs. “i hate myself for it. it was my fault—”

“don’t—”

you pull away and hit his chest. 

your eyes sting from all the crying and your throat feels dry. yet, every fiber inside of you feels like it’s on fire. it feels like you’re burning down the room and all jungkook wants to do is slow dance in it.

“jungkook, when you settled, it took something from us. something beautiful—our second—our time.” you slow your breathing to gather the courage to say it. 

to say everything. 

to say it all and maybe, save it all.

“honey, i d-destroyed and hurt more than you did... and i know you don’t blame me; but am i ever going to stop blaming m-myself?” you sob. “i’m pushed into t-this... corner where it’s all my fault—and it is, you know? if i hadn’t stressed myself over your case and just f-focused on making partner at the firm—if i had just i-ignored the f-feeling of the knife you twisted—it was supposed to be this time around.”

jungkook’s heart breaks.

“9 months...” you say, voice trembling.

“don’t say it like that,” jungkook begs. “my love, i didn’t forget.”

that’s just it.

he hasn’t forgotten either.

yet, his body doesn’t ache like yours does. as much as your heart wants to forgive and find beauty in this tragedy—your body hasn’t healed. all those months ago, when you focused on jungkook’s case and stressed yourself to the bone—you made a mistake. you neglected your health to prioritize everything but yourself.

your breath hitches as you recall everything. a part of you feels relieved to have said it all aloud, but inside, it feels like something has burnt up—like a part of you has died.

you reach for him, cupping his cheeks in your hands. jungkook’s tears spill over, and you gently wipe them away with your thumb.

his body collapses into yours. his sobs wrack his chest as he buries his face in your arms.

jungkook cries for the break-up.

for the hurt that’s grown between you two.

he blames himself even though deep down he knows it’s not his fault.

the ache in his chest feels unbearable. you tighten your hold on him, bracing yourself for what comes next, but before you can speak, your body gives in.

everything does dizzy and you hold your breath.

suddenly, your knees hit the floor, and you collapse in front of jungkook, the weight of it all too much to bear.

“i’m s-sorry,” you choke out. "i can't—fuck. i'm so heartbroken, jungkook. i can't—"

jungkook drops down beside you, pulling you into him. as you cling to each other, you feel his heart racing, his breath catching in his sobs, mirroring your own. he holds you tighter, as if he could take all your pain into himself. if he could, you know he would.

and somehow, in the midst of this overwhelming pain, you feel the strangest thing.

this has to be the most painful moment in your entire relationship, but it’s also the most healing.

after nine months of distance, you finally grieve together.

the grief overwhelms you two.

after what feels like an eternity, you manage to compose yourself, pulling away from his embrace. meanwhile, jungkook is still crying heavily. you reach up, cupping his face in your hands again, wiping the tears from his swollen eyes. he leans into your touch, his lips pressing softly against the palm of your hand, his breathing slowly calming down. but then, he moves closer, and you know what’s coming next.

jungkook tries to kiss you.

you push him away gently, your heart breaking all over again.

“... i think you should go home,” you whisper, your voice tired and cracked.

"___, please—"

"we fought enough tonight. i don't have anything left in me, jungkook... just go."

for a moment, silence hangs in the air, thick with everything left unsaid. there's still more. he swears it. he knows it because his heart races with so many more confessions. so many more things he has to tell you.

like the fact that when you cleared his name, he never felt so loved in his life.

like the fact that when you stressed yourself over him and got upset with his decision—he wanted to take everything back.

like the fact that when he let you cry in bed all day over the loss, he cried as he held and fed zion in the living room.

but now is not the time.

now, the hurt aches and he has to let it. he has to let you fall apart. he has to feel this too because if he doesn't—then he misses it all. he misses everything and he can't do that.

he needs to know.

he needs to learn.

he needs to love.

jungkook swallows hard, his voice barely a whisper. “okay… whatever you want.”

you both stand, your movements slow and heavy. you watch as he gathers his belongings, guilt and disappointment twisting in your stomach. at the door, he pauses, eyes closed as he takes a deep breath.

“what about me?”

his voice breaks the stillness. you feel your heart sink.

“what about you?” you ask softly, though you already know the answer.

“___, i don’t want to go,” he pleads, desperation creeping into his voice. “i… i can’t do this. not again.”

“what do you mean?” you force a weak smile. “this is our first break-up.”

“for real?”

you let out a sad laugh, though it holds no real humor.

“for now.”

jungkook takes a second to compose himself.

“i’m gonna pick up zion and have him sleep over at mine... and it’s okay if you’re still full… just eat a late dinner,” he murmurs softly, eyes cast downward. then, turning toward the door, he looks back one last time, his voice soft but filled with emotion.

“for the record, i thought i was home… but if air, space, and time is what you need, so be it. just know, i hope i’m it in the end. i hope i’m what you need.”

they say the 3-year itch is when the sand timer runs out. it takes two people to flip it over and restart the clock. at your 3-year itch with jungkook, suddenly your careers were where you two scratched.

then, the plagiarism accusations came along. as horrible as it was, you thought this was the perfect opportunity to show jungkook how much you love him. how much were you willing to do for him, and how much could your career benefit you two? at the peak of all this, you didn’t know it.

you were carrying more than just work.

at 5 weeks, 1 week after jungkook settled—time was up.

jungkook sits in his car, crying and staring at the ring that should be on your finger. he can’t help but feel all the sides of it. he shoves it back inside the box and opens the glove compartment. throwing it in, he continues to reflect. 

was he insensitive? was he so wrong about not wanting to take the job? the proposal was ill-timed, but was he crazy? weren’t you two doing better? … were you hurting all by yourself this entire time? of course, he hurt too. he was just grieving differently… does that make this his fault? he doesn’t know. he doesn’t care. in the end, losing something is still losing something. 

truth be told, it’s no one’s fault. 

yet, jungkook hits his steering wheel and continues to sob. he wants to blame something. he needs to. as he searches, his heart screams out;

time.

[ohcorny]

so! it's been a year since i put never satisfied on hiatus, and 9 years since i started posting it, and rather than make you read everything if all you want to know is "when's it coming back?" the answer is still: don't know! but the answer has also shifted closer to "it isn't" the longer i've spent on break, and i think it's worth being up front about that.

i talked about it a little here a few weeks ago, but the long and short of it is that between taking on better paying work, writing better stories, and looking back at what i'd already done for never satisfied... i just don't think i want to continue it? the year off has been incredibly good for my mental health, and i can't see myself wanting to go back after the two-three years still ahead of me on my current project. that's not to say i never want to return to the characters or the concept, but if i did, i imagine it would be with something completely new, in a different form. after all, i started this comic when i was 21 years old, a lesbian, and a sophomore in college. i am now just shy of 30, a bi man, and overall a completely different person than i was, back when i was writing without a plan and putting all of my insecurities into the comic--insecurities i don't identify with anymore. lord i'm closer to rothart's age than i am to lucy's. hate that

anyway. you have all been extraordinarily kind for following never satisfied for as long as you have, for supporting it as much as you have, and being as patient as you have. whatever form never satisfied takes in the future (god willing, with a more cohesive story structure and A PLAN FOR THE ENDING, WHICH BY THE WAY I NEVER, EVER HAD) i hope to see you there!

in the meantime, as an update on where i'm at with the thing that made me stop working on NS: i finished it! all the pages for Hunger's Bite (if you remember it with a different title: no you don't) have been turned in and now it's just revisions and covers and then........ waiting a year until it can come out. because that's how it is in traditionally published graphic novels! nothing releases for a full year after you finished it! and you're even getting it earlier than was originally planned, because i'm a creature and finished it like three months ahead of schedule. i've also already started thumbnailing the sequel book which i can't talk about whatsoever and will now be working on that for the next two years and then HOPEFULLY the first book will have done well enough that i can sell a third! so you better buy it when it comes out next february!!!!!!

to ease you all into it, i wanted to do a little crossover to introduce the main characters. we have emery, whose design is fully and unintentionally just Seiji Again down to his color palette (but seiji would bully him if they met. like so hard. he's a wimp). then we have neeta, a girl who dreams of travel and cares deeply about worker's rights, and wick, a vampire agent investigating the mysterious and sinister new owner of the 1910s ocean liner emery and neeta call home. he's also gay. but sorry lucy, you aren't his type. you're not mean enough.

the best place to keep up with me these days is probably here, as this first book gets closer to release, i will probably be posting about it a lot. and i will certainly post about it here when there's an official release date and cover reveal! i hope you'll go read it. i really think if you liked never satisfied and its themes, you'll like hunger's bite!

thank you again for reading!!

[itsmealaiahh]

"My pretty little secret"

A tom kaulitz x fem!reader one shot

TW: embarrassment, fluff, tom being completely smitten for you, nothing too major!

Request by anon: hey! I could ask for a "2010 Tom Kaulitz x reader" in which some paparazzi have published photos of Tom and the reader (not famous and a little younger if you can) in magazines. in the photos you can see the two holding hands and kissing each other while Tom smiles. a few days later, in an interview, they ask the band and Tom about this mysterious girl… and you can continue, Ty!🫶🏻

Rating: under 15 dni as usual :)

Tom had had the night of his life with you. He had met you in the club he was partying in, and immediately took a liking to you. You were easygoing, sweet, funny, and most of all, it seemed you truly enjoyed his company. It didn't seem to matter to you that he was a big, famous rockstar, you were just looking for a good time.

A couple of days later, the band was at an interview, and the host was asking them the usual things, when they were performing again, where they were performing, nothing too out of the ordinary. Until, the host's attention turned to tom, and he didn't know what for.

"So tom" The host started, meeting his gaze intensely. "Are you dating anyone?" He questioned, and tom let out a simple chuckle. "Not at the moment, no" But when pictures of you and him popped up onto the screen behind the band, he mentally cursed. "It seems like you are" He laughed back, and bill looked over at tom to see his face bright red, with what looked like to be pure embarrassment.

A few others were shown, you and him having drinks, him dancing with you, and they even managed to capture a few kisses you both had shared. "So, who is this mystery girl?" He asked tom, leaning in a little bit. "We met a few days ago at a club, and she caught my attention. That's all" He said simply, laying back on the couch, content with his answer.

The host shrugged and went back to asking more questions, if anyone else in the band was dating someone, to try and get drama to arise, but the rest of them said no. Thankfully, after a few more questions and bland answers, they were done, and the host thanked them for their time, shaking each of their hands and they walked backstage. "You didn't tell me you met a girl!" Bill laughed, smiling widely. "Was she nice?"

"She was probably the sweetest girl I've met" Tom grinned and bill grabbed his arm, shaking him back and forth. "You gonna call her, or do you not have her number?" "I do, but are you sure I should call her? It might be creepy, and maybe she was just looking for someone to hang out with" Tom said, a hint of anxiousness in his tone.

"Well, it'd still be nice to talk, maybe she wants more" Bill shrugged as he walked out of the studio, going into the tour bus. Tom nodded, getting out his phone and dialing your number.

"Hello?"

WHEW HOLY SHIT sorry for not posting a fic for so long, this week has been insane

Thank you all for being so supportive and helping me these past few days, I love you all 💗

If I'm up to it though, this might become a series, or even a book, and that's why I ended it on a cliffhanger, but I hope you enjoy! Sorry if it's short

[adore-laur]

MILESTONES

— a series of firsts from the dadrry universe 🩵

——

The First Hunch

Intuition seemed to follow Harry around the house like a ghostly shadow.

The irregular morning sickness could have been entirely coincidental. But the moment you lost the hopeless battle of keeping your eyes open and eventually drifted off beside him was the indisputable sign he had been seeking. You, the person he knew like the back of his hand, were succumbing to a nap before dinner. The notably rare occurrence was a spectacle to behold, and he didn't move a single muscle except for his heart, which wildly thumped in his chest at the mere thought of it being true.

You had to be pregnant. No other conclusion could be drawn.

When you awoke an hour later in an evening daze with the sunset’s mellow light casting a silhouette of the open shutters on your face, Harry found it amusing how disoriented your expression was. It was almost as if you were astonished at how your body managed to do a simple human function, such as letting yourself fall asleep. He gazed down at you and raised his eyebrows with an unspoken assumption of what you had been so futilely denying.

Before he could make a witty comment, you yawned and said, “Don't say anything.”

Harry kissed your forehead and knowingly smiled against it. "Just take a test, love. There's no use in putting it off any longer."

"I'm scared,” you mumbled.

"Why?" he asked softly, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders. You rubbed your tired eyes while sinking into his embrace. "We've talked about how much we want this."

"It's still scary.”

Harry swallowed thickly. Hell, he was scared too. Priorities shift monumentally once a baby is born and brought home to be raised for eighteen years. How did a person even go about preparing for that enormous responsibility? It was always nice to fantasize about until the harsh realities of parenthood caused him to mentally spiral.

"Well," he said with a loving pinch to your cheek, "I think it's a girl."

You grinned into the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Have you been reading up on things already?"

"Maybe," he mused. Setting his bare feet on the ottoman, he said, "Look at me for a second." You did, and he absentmindedly stroked his knuckles across your stomach. "You don't think you're pregnant?”

A wary pause ensued. Your unintentional signals were as clear as day.

"I think I am," you whispered.

"For real?"

"Harry, you're the one who's so confident that I am."

"I know, but do you actually feel like there's a baby?" His palms turned clammy when he said it out loud. "It's your body. I'm just guessing based on parenting blogs I browse online."

You pursed your lips, then replied, "What else could it be? My period was supposed to start two weeks ago. And I've been nauseated recently."

"Do you want to take a test soon?" he asked, trying to steady his ragged breathing.

You nodded briskly. "Sure. I'll buy some after work tomorrow."

"Promise me," he pleaded, a slight impatience taking over him of wanting—no, needing—to confirm it once and for all.

"I promise. We'll find out this week." You were deliberately quiet for a moment before you asked, "Why do you think it's a girl?"

Harry immediately perked up and held his pointer finger in the air. "An old wives' tale claims that—"

"Stop right there," you interrupted with a hand to his chest.

"No, hear me out." He laughed contagiously and cradled your cheeks. "They say if you crave sweets, then it's a girl. Remember when you begged me to make cinnamon rolls for breakfast a couple of days ago? I had to go to the store for more milk because you were on the verge of tears."

You narrowed your eyes. "Everyone gets cravings, though. It doesn't mean they're pregnant or that they’re having a girl."

He frowned and said, "You're starting to sound like you don't want to be pregnant."

"I do," you replied frantically, kissing his precious pout away. "I do, Harry. I want a baby with you more than anything."

"Then let's find out. There's nothing to be afraid of."

——

The First Heartbeat 

Boundless possibilities could leave you in a state of serenity, absolute shambles, or somewhere in-between. The thin paper on the exam table crunched under you when you shifted restlessly for the umpteenth time. Your jittery limbs bounced with each second that noisily ticked by on the clock. With your shirt bunched up to your ribcage, you awaited the gel that would be spread on your stomach. The skin there had become a little firmer during the previous week, yet somehow pudgier.

Harry stood beside you, his face visibly flushed with an equal amount of anxiousness. He looked around the room with observant eyes, scanning the daunting equipment and educational pamphlets that presented themselves to eager parents-to-be.

He had gotten off work early and rushed to the hospital to meet you, still in his grubby clothes he wore in the restaurant kitchen. You had noticed his fingernails were bitten raw when he grabbed your elbow and leaned in for a quick kiss. Gentle and nervous smiles were exchanged before the two of you walked down the hallway toward the elevators, your arms looped around his waist.

As the ultrasound gel was applied with an icy sensation that made you jolt, you held your breath and locked eyes with your husband.

"Is it cold?" he whispered, wringing his hands together.

"Yeah," you answered just as quietly.

The room was so still, you could have probably heard a pin drop. You inhaled deeply when the doctor moved the transducer wand around your lower stomach. Harry cleared his throat and broke eye contact with you to watch the computer screen that displayed a blurry black-and-white view of your womb. It was strange to see the inside of your body, and even stranger to know a baby was growing in there.

After a painstaking moment of silence, the device finally picked up on the most gorgeous, muffled heartbeat. It wasn't your own, and it wasn't Harry's—it was your baby's. A lub-dub rhythm that was your responsibility to bring into the world.

Harry whistled in amazement and pressed two shaky fingers against his lips. He glanced between you and the screen several times before touching his chest and rubbing the spot where his heart was. A reaction took over him that you had never seen before. Tears welled in his eyes, and a transfixed smile dimpled his cheeks. A sentimental ache bloomed in your chest, caused by love for him and his vulnerability.

"They have a very strong and healthy heartbeat," said the doctor while adjusting the screen monitor.

You stared at the ultrasound that showed a blob with no distinguishable features or anatomy, yet it was part of you and part of the man you lived and breathed for.

"Harry, look," you said through an emotionally tightened throat.

He crouched beside you and sniffled. "I see, sweetheart."

"How far along am I?" you asked the doctor, blindly reaching for Harry's hand.

"Around eight weeks," they told you, clicking their pocket pen and writing down information. "As for your due date, you guys will be looking forward to early November!"

Harry clutched your hand, leaving a prolonged kiss on your knuckles. "An autumn baby," he murmured against your skin. He then turned his attention to the doctor and asked, "Can we please have copies of the ultrasound pictures to hang on the fridge at home?"

The timing was perfect. The color of the leaves would change the same way your lives would change together. It would be a season filled with pure bliss and a turning of the tide. The end of the year would give you a love you could cherish forever.

——

The First Cry 

"Is she breathing?"

It was the first string of words that tumbled from Harry's mouth after you gave birth. Babies were supposed to cry once they came into the world. Why wasn't she crying? Where were the shrieks he had prepared for months to hear?

Nurses crowded around you as she was pulled out all the way and set on your chest, her squirming body sensitive to the air. It was beautiful chaos happening in slow motion. Harry felt like he was floating outside of his body, feeling a surreal concoction of confusion, euphoria, and hysteria.

"W-what... why isn't she crying?" you asked breathlessly. Your body was shaking due to the immediate shift in hormones.

Two nurses roughly rubbed your daughter with towels until she gurgled a high-pitched wail. Relief, relief, relief. Nothing could quite encapsulate Harry's raw emotion when he heard that sound come from a fresh pair of baby lungs. It was piercingly loud and overwhelming, yet heavenly to his ears.

Harry stepped forward with a wide smile. "There she is," he said, his voice scratchy. "She's fine, love. She's breathing."

Your hands, wavering and sweaty, cautiously cupped your daughter's fragile figure. With that first maternal touch, you broke down with a cascading waterfall of tears.

"Hi, baby girl," you cried happily. "Shh, it's okay. You scared us for a second."

Eyes glossy, lips trembling, and heart growing tenfold, Harry was lost in admiration. The scene surrounding him was a mess, but it was merely an afterthought in his mind. He had never been so mesmerized by someone except for the day he married you. Even so, this was a different type of love—one that had flourished over nine months and was now a tangible fondness lasting for eternity.

Absent nods and weak affirmations were given to the nurse's questions thrown his way. The bubble he was in simply couldn't be popped. You scooted over on the hospital bed so he could sit next to you while they suctioned his daughter's tiny mouth, nose, and ears. Her cries were still going strong, and Harry soaked them in as he smoothed his hand over the back of her small head. She had a decent amount of hair, courtesy of his genes, and something about that realization broke the dam behind his eyes.

When he blearily looked at your awestruck face, he knew he had made the right choice in picking the mother of his baby girl. And, if he got lucky, a couple other bundles of joy as well. It had to be you. No one else made him feel as complete as you did.

"We had a baby," you whispered in disbelief, staring up at him with eyes rapt in wonder.

Through his tears, Harry laughed with astonishment. "It was all you. Do you hear me? All you." He kissed your dewy cheek. "I'm so grateful. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

You exhaled heavily and murmured, "I'm starving."

"When we get home, I'm going to cook you the best damn meal you've ever had in your life."

——

The First Smile 

Harry entered the sunlit nursery with dragging movements similar to those of a zombie. He had only one sock on, and a staticky-sounding baby monitor was tucked under his armpit.

That morning, a whopping four hours of interrupted sleep was the new record. The days and nights blended together like watercolor on wet paper, and no amount of espresso shots or afternoon naps could cure his poor, sleep-deprived soul. His circadian rhythm had now changed to a cadence of chaos, and there was nothing he could do about it. The millisecond he became a dad, a certain little someone shifted to the number one spot on his list of priorities.

After turning on the lamp in the corner of the room and setting the baby monitor down, Harry leaned against the bassinet and let his baby girl's subsiding cries wake him up just like a freshly brewed pot of coffee would. The sound made him feel sad, but if getting up at the same time as the sun meant she could be soothed somehow (and that you could get more shut-eye), then he would do it over and over again.

Harry eventually reached down to pull his daughter's tiny body against his bare chest. It made his heart swell knowing she always calmed in his arms. "Already up and at 'em, huh?" he rasped, giving her his knuckle to suckle on since the whereabouts of her pacifier were unknown. She cooed and looked at him with curious eyes that resembled yours. "Why are you so precious all the time? Got me so wrapped around your finger that I couldn't possibly be mad at you for waking me up this early."

She kicked her legs outward, apparently a happy camper now that she had some attention from her dad. Harry shook his head in amusement. "Were those fake cries?" he accused lightheartedly.

Once he changed her diaper and stole a few minutes of snuggles before she started becoming fussy again, his next destination was the kitchen, where most mornings began as a new family of three. Opening the fridge decorated with baby pictures galore and a calendar scribbled full of upcoming postpartum appointments, he grabbed the first bag of breast milk he saw and then took an empty baby bottle out of the dishwasher so he could make her breakfast. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he had the energy to cook himself a nourishing meal before noon.

Harry attempted to screw on the cap of the bottle using only one hand since his other was being occupied by a hungry, babbling baby. His face grew hot with frustration when the cap kept resisting being twisted, and it definitely didn't help when the bottle tipped straight over, causing valuable milk to spill onto the counter. Nice going, idiot. That wasn't good at all. He dreaded delivering the news to you, especially considering you recently told him how pumping felt like an extreme sport.

"Well, that's just wonderful," he muttered while looking down at his daughter, wholly prepared for her to literally cry over spilled milk.

But no, she didn't cry. Instead, she smiled at him for the first time. A gummy, wonky baby smile that woke him right up.

Harry gasped in surprise and completely forgot about the milk mishap. "Are you smiling at me? Holy sh- I mean, shoot. We have to show Mommy. Wait, she's sleeping. Um, okay, hold on." He aimlessly scanned the kitchen for his phone, his heart pounding. "Keep smiling, okay? I need to take a picture of this."

He abandoned his self-made 'no phone around the baby' rule and rounded the corner of the island. In the process, he accidentally hit his side on the corner, causing him to stifle a groan. His clumsiness made his daughter smile even wider, along with a noise that could be interpreted as a giggle if he believed hard enough. And if he looked close enough, he could make out two miniature dimples indenting her cheeks.

He picked up his phone, and with the sunrise’s golden rays dancing over her happy face, he snapped a picture while his face beamed behind the camera. "Look at you," he cooed, pressing the capture button repeatedly. "Is my struggling funny to you? Hmm? Just wait until your mom sees this. She'll freak out."

After he put his phone away, which now had nineteen new keepsakes in its photo album, he observed her a little longer. At that moment, a sudden realization dawned on him: his daughter's smile looked a lot like his own.

——

The First Year 

Hot wax dripped from a candle in the shape of the number one, making a black mark on the cake's blue fondant. It took the combined respiratory strength of three people to blow the puny flame out. Afterward, there was a brief pause in the festivities to settle a crying baby because it escaped Harry's adult mind that babies don't know how candles—or birthdays in general—work.

The cake was made with admirable precision, which Harry somehow pulled off using his amateur cake-decorating skills from ages ago. Piped seashells made from buttercream frosting sat atop the circular cake, and a message of Happy Birthday was spelled out in dainty cursive icing. A graham cracker and sugar concoction caressed the bottom edges to resemble sand, and an impressive starfish cookie rested against the side. She wouldn't remember the cake or the day, but Harry definitely would.

Once some slices were eaten, it was time to clean up for the night. The cheap chandelier hanging over the kitchen table shined upon a dirty mess of paper plates, plastic utensils, and opened presents containing toys aplenty.

"I need a shower," you told him, an exhausted sputter leaving your lips as you threw all the crumpled napkins away. "Do you mind cleaning the rest?"

"Not at all. C'mere." Harry loosely grabbed your elbow and pulled you toward him, smacking a vanilla-flavored kiss onto your mouth. "Love you. Go relax."

You thumbed away some frosting on his chin. "Don't put her to bed without me, okay?"

He smiled softly and stole another kiss, slower this time. "I won't. We're actually planning on partying all night."

You just laughed and made your way upstairs. Harry took it upon himself to clean the kitchen until it was spotless for you. He had been genuinely trying to help more around the house since motherhood is not easy on the body and mind. Taking an extra load off your shoulders was the least he could do as part of his lifelong repayment for giving him the most extraordinary experience imaginable.

After every surface was scoured clean, he walked over to his daughter and kneeled, observing her childlike wonder as she smeared frosting on the tray of her highchair. Curious eyes distracted, he felt a crashing wave of emotion wash over him. It just didn't seem possible that an entire year had already passed by. Wasn't it just yesterday that he unbuckled her from her car seat and showed her around her forever home? Didn't her newborn fingers curl instinctively around his thumb whenever he pressed it to her palm? Hadn't she only been something he dreamed about with you? If he thought about it too much, he'd start weeping.

"Stop growing, please," Harry said while scrubbing her sticky fingers with a wet wipe. "I know you need to, but it's killing me inside."

She looked up at the sound of his voice. "Da da da da," she babbled, her fists excitedly hitting the tray and becoming dirty again.

He sighed and decided to give her a sink bath before bedtime. "Yes, I'm your dad. And you need to listen to him when he tells you to stop growing, yeah?"

"No!" Her new favorite word was spoken shamelessly, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle.

"All right, little lady. Keep breaking my heart, then."

She raised her arms. "Up."

After standing with a huff, Harry lifted her in the air and shook her body playfully until she let out an infectious burst of giggles. Tickles came next, an innocent attack on her belly as she squirmed over his shoulder. He held onto her kicking legs and stomped up the stairs dramatically, making a right turn into the master bedroom. A gentle toss on the bed had her giggling even louder.

"An entire year of loving you," he said, kissing her cheeks repeatedly. "Happy birthday, lovebug."

——

The Last Night 

There used to be a time when her legs couldn't wrap all the way around Harry's waist because they were simply too short. What were once chunky baby legs that happily kicked against his rib cage turned into toddler ones that kicked because they wanted to run free.

No more holding her sideways while she fit in the crook of his elbow like a puzzle piece of his flesh and blood. No more swaddling her tightly in a blanket after a midnight meltdown. No more tummy time, carrying her in a sling, or being there to catch her whenever she tried to walk on her own.

Her dependence was slipping away. Time was slipping away even faster.

Often, he looked back on all the moments he had taken for granted with his firstborn. Those screeching cries that wouldn't stop no matter what left him with a daylong migraine and maybe a side of tears. Those tantrums left him feeling defeated and on edge, only to end with her just wanting to be held by him. Those summer evenings on the beach, only him and her lying on a blanket and watching the sun go down while he answered all her nonsensical questions about the world around her.

Tomorrow, the date circled on the calendar's December page would allow Harry to relive those moments. However, it would be with an entirely new person he's never met. It'd be undeniably different—an accustomed bond to be formed and a shift in dynamics to adjust to. The challenge of keeping two humans safe instead of one.

Was he ready for that?

"Are you ready to be a big sister?" Harry asked the tiresome, limp child in his arms. He might as well pass off the question to someone unaware of it all.

"No."

He laughed at the confidence with which she answered. "I understand. It's a huge responsibility, but you'll be a natural. That's what your mom told me before you were born."

She nodded slowly against his shoulder, most likely oblivious to what he said. "Wanna go night-night."

"I know." The weight of his soul sank, realizing time was ticking by faster than he'd like it to. "Let me hold you for a while longer. Is that okay?" Another nod. "You can fall asleep, darling. I promise I'll carry you to bed and tuck you in."

"Where's Mama?" she asked with her sweet, soft voice.

Harry rubbed soothing circles on her back, and tears stung behind his eyes for some reason. "She needs rest just like you do," he explained vaguely, not wanting to talk about the pre-labor pain you had been so gracefully pushing through the entire day. "Grandma's taking you to the park tomorrow, so you can't be cranky."

"Okay," she mumbled, approximately thirty seconds from a dream-filled sleep.

After swiping a finger down her button nose to get her eyes to flutter shut, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and steadily hiked up the staircase toward her room. He checked on you when he passed the master bedroom, finding you hunched over the bed and swaying through a contraction. It hurt to see you in such discomfort.

Harry opened the door to his daughter's bedroom, laid her in her toddler bed, and tucked the blanket around her body like he did every night. "Sleep well, sweetheart. Don't grow up overnight."

Her eyes popped open, and she was suddenly wide awake due to not being in his arms anymore. "'I'm not tired."

"You just said you wanted to go night-night!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Go to sleep, crazy girl," he told her, ruffling her hair. Your mom needs me right now. Can you tell your angels and fairies to make her feel better?"

She hummed an affirmation and settled down. Harry's lips twitched into a smile, and he spread his arms out in his unvoiced gesture of love. She immediately spread her arms out too.

"Love you this big," she said cutely.

"I love you even bigger," he replied, gently pinching her cheek.

Doubt, incompetence, and fear swirled in his stomach when he realized that, come tomorrow, he would no longer have his paternal attention solely focused on the little girl in front of him. His chest ached for her, knowing how hard it'd be to adjust to someone who required more nurture and care under the same roof. He'd just have to share his love, and his heart was more than capacious enough to manage that.

Before Harry turned off the lights, he confessed a secret that had only been shared between them. "You'll always be my biggest love."

——

[becca-e-barnes]

I've been writing my dissertation like that gif of the cat frantically slamming a keyboard (you know the one) but it's got me thinking about professor Bucky and how he might incentivise you to get your work done for his class 😏

"You're not getting an extension. Don't even think about e-mailing me for one." The hardest part of dating your lecturer isn't actually the sneaking around; it's that he's a hell of a lot tougher on you than the rest of the class.

"But Bucky I-" You begin but he cuts you off and you know by the look on his face that there's no point pressing it.

"No. You're more than capable and you've got plenty of time to get it done. You don't need an extension, you need to apply yourself."

God, he's annoying. You know you can do it, you never said you couldn't. You just don't want to. There's a massive difference.

He pulls his copy of the required reading out of his bag, setting it on the desk beside your laptop and it takes everything in you not to bury your head in your hands.

"There. I've helped you enough." He nods towards the textbook but when you don't move, he flicks through the pages with a sigh, leaving it open at the chapter you know you should start with.

You sit there for another few seconds in a foul mood, mentally preparing yourself to sit here for the next few hours.

"How about I help you? I get the impression you need an incentive." He knows you too well, there's nothing more motivating than a little treat. "You have 12,000 words to write. For every 1,000 you write this week, I'll give you an orgasm."

Maybe you should complain about his assignments more often.

"Deal." Hell, if you'd known this was coming, you'd have started ages ago.

"Good girl." He laughs, amused at the rate at which your fingers begin to dance over the keyboard.

Getting started isn't too hard. You type out a quick plan of your chapters, dropping in the sources you know you'll need before starting your introduction and with your focus on your work, you hardly notice Bucky sinking to his knees under the desk.

You feel his warm, open mouthed kisses trailing up your thighs under your skirt and his soft groans drag your attention away from the laptop.

"Don't stop working." He insists, licking your sex through your cotton underwear, letting you enjoy the delicious friction on your cunt. "You're almost at the first thousand and it reads well so far." You feel his hot breath against the now wet cotton while one of your hands falls to tug his hair.

"If you stop typing, I stop licking." He threatens, pulling your panties to the side, gliding his tongue against your skin and groaning at the taste of your arousal.

You have just over 200 words until you reach your first thousand and it should be so easy but it becomes even harder when he sinks two fingers into you and you're able to hear how wet you are already.

His lips engulf your clit, sucking gently while flicking his tongue in vertical strokes in time with his fingers curling inside you. "Such a smart girl. I'm so proud of you." He hums before giving you a few broad strokes with a flat tongue.

He knows what his praise does to you and with your thighs clamped around his head, you fly your way through a few hundred more words. He chuckles when you proudly announce you reached a thousand but you don't stop typing at the same frantic pace.

"Sweetheart, if you want to get all 12,000 done this evening, I'll sit here as long as it takes." He smiles against your skin before giving you everything he knows you need. His tongue flicks quickly over your clit and his fingertips rub against the soft, spongy spot inside you and in no time you're gushing against his face, gripping his hair and riding your high out on his waiting tongue.

[clangenrising]

Hey guys.

It is with great shame that I think I must announce that I can no longer maintain my posting schedule and RisingClan needs to go on a tiny hiatus.

For some background, I've been struggling with work and mental health for a couple months now which culminated in a breakdown a few weeks ago after which my boss insisted I take some time off work to recover. In that time, I've been trying to catch up with RisingClan’s schedule, which I am very behind on, but this week I learned that I need to start packing to move out as well. And to top it all off, I'm in danger of losing my benefits and need to get that sorted out.

Multiple people have told me that if I need to put RisingClan on hold, I can, that my audience will understand, but I've been loathe to because doing so would mean abandoning the "In Real Time" gimmick that I was so proud of and I didn't want to compromise my vision in that way. Unfortunately, though, I have come to the realization that I can either force myself to write and damage my mental health further, write at my own pace and release updates far later than I wanted to hoping that doing so doesn't make the story too different from what I had hoped, OR I can put things on pause until my life isn't falling apart and then start writing again, albiet not in the way I wish I could.

I have decided to do the latter. I'm going to take a break from producing RisingClan content for at least a couple weeks, maybe a month or two, while I move and get my shit together. I'm also going to put Featured Follower Posts on hold. However, during that time I will continue to answer asks since that takes very little effort and I'd love to highlight any fan art if people feel like making any. When I feel I'm able, I'll start writing again and maybe eventually I'll be able to catch up to the current month and resume business as usual. I'm not going to push myself though.

I know you'll all understand but I want to thank you anyway and say I hope that you'll stick with me through this posting gap. The events that are coming up are things I'm really excited for and I hope you'll all be there to see them!

To my lovely patrons, I would appreciate your continued support but I understand if you feel the need to cancel your subscriptions even temporarily. Luckily, I already finished Leafbare's season illustration so that will be posted on time, as usual.

Thank you all. I couldn't do this without your support and I'm looking forward to getting back in the saddle soon.

♡ Rowan

[bornagainmurdock]

manic delusions & a gentle boyfriend

author's note: i, in a mania induced haze, created a playlist about how much i want to fight matt the other day, so inspired by my need to calm tf down, i offer you this. as always, not all mania looks the same or is the same.

contents: fluff but the angsty kind a little bit, matt murdock x reader, gender neutral reader, reader experiences mania, undisclosed mental illness, basically how matt helps with a manic episode

word count: 1.4k

While Matt had never necessarily experienced mania himself, when you explained how it worked for you to him and how to tell you were about to have an episode. The signs were never the same, but the motivations were. You'd done the thousands of dollar shopping sprees, the impromptu trips around the country via your ratty old car, the detailed documents abotu elaborate plans you couldn't comprehend when the episode lasted. If fact, Matt had been present for most of them, not stopping you, because then the urge would continue, but helping you ride through them safely.

Today Matt caught you in the middle of a shopping spree on your laptop at hte dining room for craft supplies. They were on sale, what were you expected to do.

"Can we step away from that for a minute?" Matt was kind with his words knowing that any aggressive push would send you sprialing any further.

"In a minute. I'm busy." Your eyes were glued to the screen, scrolling endlessly through the site's inventory.

"I see that. I'm just worried about you." He sighed, sitting at the opposite side of the table.

"I'm not manic—"

"I trust you. I just want you to take a break from the screens for an hour or so, your eyes need the break." He was gentle still, sure to not cross any emotional or physical boundaries.

"Yah I think you're right. I think I might go on a run along the Hudson river." You sprang to your feet, bouncy as ever.

"It's always great to move your body, but I think maybe we should sit down for a bit together. We haven't talked much today." He knew if you left the house you'd come back overexerted, damaging your joints in the process.

"Okay?" You said, walking to sit on the floor in the open space of the apartment.

"What's going through your head?" He joined you on the floor, still at a distance to allow you to breathe.

He had realized maybe a day ago that you were having an episode and unable to realize it, too deep in it to see the light. This confrontation, if you could call it that, could make it worse, or, hopefully, give you a chance to reflect on your behavior and practice some coping mechanisms to come back down to earth.

"You think I'm manic." You said blunty, like a knife in Matt's chest.

"I do." He rotated his hands in his lap, face pointed down towards the floor. "And, I'm worried about you."

"I'm not manic."

Matt knew this was going to be hard, but he was hopeful.

"Okay, I trust you. You can go back to what you're doing. I just wanted to check in." He started to stand before he was interrupted by your thoughts.

"Okay, well maybe I am. But I don't think it's a bad thing. I've gotten so much done. I've deep cleaned the whole apartment. I'm all caught up on work for the next two weeks. I'm gonna learn how to cross stitch." You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly trying to think through each of those sentences before Matt could. "Okay, so I'm manic. How do I fix it?" You pouted with the last sentence.

"Nothing to fix. Your brain is just having a time right now, and we're gonna work through it together." He smiled, scooting closer to intertwine a hand with yours. "How about we risk assess, hmm?"

"I think that's a good idea."

"Okay first one, cleaning. What do you think about that activity?" He was still, but open, hoping this dialogue would help until the brain chemicals subsided.

"Cleaning is helpful for the house, and for us, but I probably didn't pay as much attention as I would have liked during the tasks. I probably overworked my body in the process. I think this time it's a net positive as we haven't cleaned much since last season."

"That's a good analysis. How about the second one now." Matt said. He had read some of the books your therapist had recommended to you, and was very attentive when you explained how your brain worked, hoping the break down of tasks would help you realize the bigger picture.

"Getting my work done is good, but getting the next two weeks done is too much. I won't have anything to do for two weeks now. Net negative." You slouched into Matt's touch, leaning against his arm and resting there.

"Okay, and three?"

"I don't know how to cross stitch and I haven't watched or read any tutorials. I think I'm interested in it, but I should be thoughtful about buying materials in case I don't stick with it. Net neutral."

"Good job. Is there anything else you'd like to break down and think about with another brain here with you?" Matt was now rubbing your arm that was closest to him, trying to ground you with touch.

"Can I think and get back to you?"

"Of course you can. Thank you." He untangled himself from you and stood, helping you up in the process and leading you back to your computer. "Why don't you buy a small beginner kit and you can tell me all about it."

"Okay."

"And here's my card." Matt pulled his wallet from his back pocket and passed a card to you. He knew you were less inclined to spend him money than your own because of guilt.

"Thank you Matt."

"You're welcome baby. I'm gonna go sit on the couch and you join me when you're ready to give a lecture on cross stitch."

----

Later that night, after the lecture and a series of snacks Matt was willing to consider dinner, you both sat on the couch needing to get ready for bed.

"You're not tired, are you?" He said, turning to face you.

"No. Dumb brain chemicals." You pouted again, showing it with the tone of your voice.

"Why don't I help you draw a bath, and you can pick out a bath bomb or some bath salts and I can sit with you while you relax?"

"I'd like that."

"Then, let's go!" Matt jumped up from the couch with a smile, once again reaching out to lead you there.

Once inside, Matt passed you the bin with all the fancy bath and shower supplies for you to sort through.

"I'm thinking pomegranate bath bomb and some CBD bath soak. The one with glitter." You pulled them out and set them on the counter.

"Sounds good to me." Matt said.

He turned on the faucets, trying to find the perfect blend of hot and cold that would be comfortable but not too overwhelming. You were bad at telling temperatures when manic, often making soup of yourself in the bath.

You started to strip, walking around in circles to ease the excitement of a fancy bath. Your clothes in a pile on the floor, you warn Matt before he about trips over them.

"What color towel?"

"Red please!" You shout back.

"Alright." He sets the towel over the hooks next to the bath and strips himself of most of his clothes, helping you into the tub before sitting down next to it. He turns off the faucets and the silence dances around the room.

"Matt, can you play with my hair?"

"Of course I can. Do you just want me to talk and try to get you back on the ground?" His closer hand moved to your hair, brushing over it with a bit of pressure to remind you of his presence.

The bath was warm but not too hot. The temperature eventually caught up to you, beads of sweat forming on your forehead.

The bath bomb was almost done fizzing, bouncing between your legs dying the water a vibrant red.

"I wish you could see the color of this bath bomb, kinda looks like the DD suit." You splashed it for a second, enjoying the novelty of it.

"Story time?" He laughed.

"Story time!"

"Okay so yesterday at work, Foggy and Karen both decided to pull a prank on me," Matt went further into detail than he had to, attempting to help you picture it in your own head, "The coffee machine, you know the one on the counter in the office that almost never gets clean. Well, they took the coffee filter out of it, so when I went to make coffee, hot beans. poured out. Like coarse ground coffee beans, right into my favorite mug, the one you got me—"

[prophet-rebellion]

Jolene's Emergency Vet Visit

Description posted from GoFundMe Campaign:

So for those of you who gave followed me (and maybe seen the update) you'll know Salem has been missing for almost 6 months.

She was my ESA, and given my declining mental health, I didn't have much choice but to get a new ESA.

Enter miss Jolene Macchiato L. Whom I adopted almost two months ago and have whole heartedly decided to keep after realizing just how well we mesh.

You may also know I've been in the hospital the last few days - staying with my roommate who was admitted. I've been coming home to feed the cats and (unsuccessfully) treat them for ear mites. My new roommate was dog sitting and he brought fleas and ear mites into our home.

During this time, Jolene went to the bathroom on my bed multiple times. I at first chalked it up to stress and was told to keep an eye on here. Less than a day of being back from the hospital and her stool is light in color, runny, and most terrifyingly, has blood in it.

This is no longer an issue of stress, but could be a major intestinal/stomach problem when mixed with her inability to wait and use her litterbox. On top of that, she was running around like she was in pain, or something was wrong prior to going.

My second job is not a sure thing yet - it has been more than two weeks since the company reached out to me - and I have been looking for more. The money I thought I won was more a scam to get me down to the car dealership (which by the way, I hated as is because of the older man behaving increasingly grossly and inappropriate towards me).

My funding for Salem has stopped at this point - I have done every physical thing I can to find and bring her home. And now I need to focus on the new feline in my care.

I am taking Jolene to the vet tomorrow and using my new credit card - but there are limited funds and paying it back is my current concern when I have payments taking up to the 1,000s combined due these next two months.

I am setting it to $550 for now (because they take a portion), but the price my change depending on what the vet says and what is wrong.

I know she still need to get treated for ear mites ($300 on it's own) because the current medications I've been using are not working."

This is my fundraiser.

Additional pictures of her adoption papers added on here as well proving when I got her. JOLENE IS A REGISTERED ESA NOW.

Jolene as far as I have been told is two years old, though she is very small for her age. She is a sweet heart though she was likely on the streets for a most of not all her life before she was taken to the shelter and I adopted her a month later.

She is a sweet cat that just wants to check and make sure that you're okay. She'll cuddle. She doesn't meow but she does trill and sound like yoshi.

She just wants to make friends with everyone. And if you're not petting her enough then the grabs your hand and brings it right to her face as she stands on her back legs.

This is the last fundraiser I'm making. Ask anyone I know in real life and they'll tell you just how much I despise asking for help. I want to be able to do things on my own. But until I get one bite from the hundreds (literally) of jobs I've applied to as a secondary then I'm at a loss. I can't afford to wait and save up for this vet Visit - not when her health is on the line.

I can post a picture of her at the vets office tomorrow as well to confirm, along with the update of what they set.

GoFundMe

PayPal

Venmo

Currently $750/$750

UPDATE - 08.02.2023

UNDER THE CUT

We went to the vet today.

TL:DR - she is on medications for the next two weeks, roughly. She did very good at the vet and was very brave. $500 was close, it will come out to be roughly $700 all together after ear mite treatment; we are holding off for now until the other cat in the house can be treated or they will just jump between them, which gives some more time to get there funds. But the over the counter medications are not strong enough to fight the infestation, and depending on severity, it could lead to long term health problems.

So I changed it from $550 -> $750 (again, because they take a processing fee). I also added in there roughly $200 that had been sent from PayPal and Venmo to give a more accurate show off current raised funds.

Below are screenshots of the update explaining more, along with pictures of Jolene at the vet today.

(Straight up, I almost cried because in the right two months that I have had her this was the first time she had crawled into my lap to lay down and cuddle with me.)

[nethhiri]

Chapter 55: Flatline

Warnings: references to rape, violence, murder (ish)

Curiously, you woke up without the familiar cage of Kid's arms around you. Stretching out, you could feel that Killer wasn't beside you either. It took a few seconds in your groggy state to notice, but the shower was running and there was a fast-paced rhythmic thumping sound followed by a string of strangled moans. Oh. While this normally would have encouraged you to go join them, you were understandably not interested in sex in the least bit. Physically you were fully healed and, while you could participate in that aspect, mentally you were not there yet. 

You thought about waiting for them to finish, though depending on how long they had been in there already, that could take a while. It was also a reminder of something that you didn't want to dwell on, another way you weren't the same person you were several weeks ago. Killer had been thoughtful enough to bring some of your own clothes to the room for you, so you grabbed them and tossed them on. It was a few minutes of fumbling with where the holes were on things and how to figure out if they were right-side-out or not before you could get them on. The shoes weren't as hard as you thought they would be. There wasn't any underwear, which was odd, but he probably just forgot.

You got to the hallway and had to pause, remembering where everything was and trying to imagine spatially where it would be. You didn't get far before there was a wet nose prodding under your arm. Mini slid her head under your hand to guide you to the deck. There were people on deck, you could hear them talking, getting slightly more hushed when they noticed you there. The majority of them hadn't seen you at all since you had been back. The sound of someone running and feeling of arms wrapping around you alerted you to the presence of Quincy. 

"Y/N! It's so good to see you out." She squeezed you once and let you go. "How are you doing?"

"Probably better than most would be."

"Yeah... If you need to talk or anything... I mean I'm sure Kid and Killer have it covered but..."

"Thanks, Quincy. I'll..." You were about to brush her off, but it might actually be nice to talk to someone else. "I'll keep that in mind." 

She bounded off to complete her duties. You didn't really have anything to do. You didn't even know where you were going. You could go to the infirmary, though it wouldn't do any good to be there. Mini helped you wander around until you found yourself leaning against her, sitting in the skull at the ship's bow. It felt good to walk around, and even better to breathe in the fresh, salted sea air. The sound of the bow cutting through waves was calming. You had a lot of bottled anxiety given your new normal and you hated it. This was the first time in your life that you weren't confident in anything that you did and you were very unsure where you were headed. With the loss of your log pose, you had no way of tracking down the last person on your hit list. If you were lucky, maybe you could torture it out of Warthin. At least you had that to look forward to. 

"Mind if I join you?"

The voice made you jump. 

"Sorry!" 

"For a big guy, you're light on your feet."

There was a faint jingle as the hoops on Heat's belt dinked together when he sat. "I didn't mean to be." 

The two of you sat there in silence. You continued to half-meditate, yet there was something prickling at the edge of your mind. It feels like I'm being watched. It was such a strange feeling and it was beginning to unnerve you. At the same time, you thought that you could tell where it was coming from.

"Heat? Are you staring at me?" 

"O-oh. I didn't think you could tell." Heat paused. "Wait. How can you tell?" 

"I... don't know." 

"It's just... you look so sad. I've never seen you like this." 

Hearing that, coming from the saddest looking guy to ever do it, made you snort. "Yeah, well, when you've been assaulted and permanently maimed, let's see how well you handle it." You thought about how little you knew of Heat and his scarred smile. In reality, he probably had been through something similar. Maybe that's why he was eternally sad-looking. Maybe you had more in common than you thought. You were instantly guilty. "I didn't mean that. I wasn't thinking." It was silent and you thought he might have left.

He laughed, despite what you thought was a fairly mean attack. "Now I know you aren't doing well. You? Apologizing for being mean?"

That made the ghost of a smile appear on your face. 

Heat rested a reassuring hand on your knee. "I like it when you're mean to me anyway." 

You were grateful for Heat trying to make it seem like a normal day even though your comment probably did wound him deep down.

"It won't be permanent." Heat scooted next to you and put his arm around your shoulders, resting his head on yours and giving you a side hug. "Kid is going to fix you up, just like he did for me. Maybe he'll even give you an upgrade, too." 

"I hope it's not fire breath or one of us will have to leave," you deadpanned.

"That's the Y/N we know and love." Heat ruffled the hair at the top of your head and patted it before getting up. He did have other duties to attend, but he wanted to check on you first. "And then when you feel up to it, you can try to fix the other one with your devil fruit."

"I already tried." A frown settled on your face. "I can't make something from nothing."

Heat was confused by this. "What do you mean 'from nothing'?" 

"I need at least a part of something to restore the rest of it. I can't create something out of thin air." You sighed. You really didn't want to be thinking about this, which is why you came out here in the first place. "And that eye is long gone by now." It had been over a week since Warthin had gouged it out of you and who knows what happened to it afterwards. 

Now Heat understood. You didn't even know they had your eye. He told Killer that he thought it was a bad idea to keep that from you, but obviously he didn't listen. "Y/N... " Heat tore his eyes away from you. He wouldn't be able to tell you if he watched your face.

You gave him a puzzled look.

His face was one of concern and perhaps regret. He was silent.

"Heat?" You prompted, suspicion evident in your voice.

He didn't want to get Killer in trouble like this, though he did make it clear he thought it was wrong to keep your eye from you. 

"Heat, tell me," This time your tone was serious. It left no room for him to back out of whatever he was trying to tell you.

"Please don't get angry." He knew those words would have no hold over you. 

Your heart sunk, knowing whatever he was about to say was most assuredly, going to make you angry. 

Perspiration broke out on Heat's skin after seeing the dark change in your expression. He couldn't backtrack now. And he couldn't lie to you. Maybe he could frame it in a positive way to soften the blow. "It's actually good news when you think about it-"

"HEAT, JUST FUCKING TELL ME." The anxiety of what he had to say was eating at you and you could already feel your temper flaring. 

"Your eye is fine. It's here. We have it."

"What?" Venom dripped from your voice and you stood up.

Heat backed up a step as you walked towards him. "Warthin sent it to us along with the video transponder snail." 

"So you've had it this entire time," your voice cracked as it boiled with anger, "and you all let me think I would never see again." 

"That would never be true, even if it really was gone. Kid can fix anything."

"So that's it? He kept it from me so that he could make me completely dependent on him? Held it hostage so that he could be a knight in shining armor huh?" 

"No! Killer thought-"

"Killer!?" Kid had done some stupid stuff before that made you mad, but Killer had really never done anything that hurt you. It was hard to believe that Killer could do something so cruel. 

"He thought it would be best to wait until you could heal. He was worried that you would fuck up your eye if you tried to mess with it too soon!" 

"That is not a choice that he gets to make." You stepped to Heat until your chest was flush with his body. "Do you know what was the most traumatic thing for me?" You paused. "It wasn't being force fed every day. It wasn't getting beaten. It wasn't having a permanent brand carved into my skin. It wasn't being raped over and over and over again, not even when it was broadcasted, not even when it was multiple people, and not even when a fucking beer bottle was shoved up my cunt. It was getting my fucking eye ripped out and wondering if the last  memory I had of Kid would be him getting shot in the head, wondering if he was alive or not. Or if all my memories of Killer would slowly be replaced by the last face I saw, the face of someone I despise. I was more worried about what you would all think of me if you found me than if you were actually coming at all. What would I be without my eyes? What worth would I have? And the whole time I've been back, I've been stuck in an endless loop of these fears. I have been tormented every fucking second of every fucking day that once you all realized that I was useless, the only reason to keep me here would be to fuck me, because that's about all the worth I have right now. And even then, why would you want to, after seeing what he did to me?"

You shoved Heat aside in your anger and made a furious beeline back to Kid's cabin. Your throat was pained from yelling and the way the air was cold against your cheeks made it known to you that tears were streaming down them. It was unknown if it was your ominous aura that kept people out of your way, or the haki you didn't even know you possessed leading you in a clear path. Even in your rage, you didn't want to harm either one of them. That was the shitty part about catching feelings. It made you soft. Before, you wouldn't hesitate to start swinging. That didn't mean you weren't going to go apeshit though. You kicked the cabin door open so hard you could hear the frame splinter. 

"WHAT THE FUCK, ROTTEN?"

"SHUT UP, KID!" You and Kid were both shocked at how vicious you sounded. You could sense Killer somewhere in the room, taking a millisecond to locate him. You pointed at him. "GIVE ME MY FUCKING EYE!

"Y/N-"

"And don't say a fucking word because I don't want to hear anything you have to say right now!" You were livid and it bled through in your voice the way it cracked and was slightly raspy from screaming. 

This was a complete betrayal. How could they do this to you and claim they loved you? You cried in their arms and bared your heart to them. They knew how much torment you had endured and all the fears that seeped into your mind. They consoled you and reassured you that you would see again, all while having the ability to do so right that instant, yet still withholding that information. How could they have been extending your anguish purposefully like that? It was not an accident or a misunderstanding. It was a deliberate choice to keep you from seeing. The heart you bared to them, that loved them, that only kept beating for them, they held it in their hands and crushed it. 

Killer silently led you to the infirmary, where he had placed the jar with your eye in it on one of the highest shelves. He could almost imagine a hole burning through his chest with the way you were projecting vitriol towards him. He could feel it flowing freely from you. He could hear it in your heated breaths as you followed him. Killer knew there was a possibility that you would be pissed. He didn't think you would be this mad. He expected to be yelled at. The way you were completely silent after you had screamed at him was unsettling. He wanted you to say something, even if it was just more yelling. His own heart was sinking, realizing that this might have been the wrong call. 

Kid followed the both of you, also freaked out by the way you lit into him and were now clearly brimming with wrath. Part of him was there to back up Killer, and by how unpredictable you were being, he didn't know if that meant physically or with words, or emotionally. He could see from behind you, how tightly your fists were clenched, and the short moments where your devil fruit flickered to life within them. The hair on Kid's neck stood on end as he realized that he and Killer were within an arm's reach and could peel their skin off with a simple touch, if you really wanted to. It looked like you were fighting to contain it. 

You heard the sound of glass sliding on the counter to rest in front of you. After making sure your hands were clean, you felt around in the jar until something slimy bumped your hand. Scooping it out, you held it, feeling around for the various attachments it should have. There was no foul stench from the jar. That was a decent sign that your eye hadn't decayed yet. The harsh smell of formalin burned the inside of your nose and throat instead. The tissue was dead, but preserved. You could work with that. It was heavier than you thought it would be, as you ran water over it. If you put it back in as is, the formalin would give you a chemical burn on the inside of your skull, which may actually be preferable to whatever you were feeling currently. 

Taking a deep breath you tilted your head back, separating the eyelids on the left and dangling your eye above the opening. You lowered it back into its original setting, using your devil fruit to part the newly forming scar tissue that had filled the empty space your eye's absence had left behind. Your power worked at the neural tissue, reforming bonds with the nerves in your eye. The foreign feeling of your brain being altered made you lightheaded and ill. As the nerves in your eye made connections, light, without color or shape, became visible to you. It was like someone was shining a light through fog. Your breath caught in your throat with hope. You were afraid to breathe until it was done. Shape came next, in the form of blobs in varying shapes of gray. Tinges of color crept into the blobs and they began to sharpen. The colors became more saturated and the blobs turned into more recognizable shapes. The readjustment for your brain made it ache. Vision was not unfamiliar to it. The portions used for vision had begun to be allocated to other functions, so reversing that did take time. It was a soreness akin to using a muscle that hadn't been used in a long time. When the shapes became clear and the color had fully returned, it was still slightly off. Holding your hand in front of you, it looked sideways even though you knew it was straight. You rotated your eye in its socket until everything was going in the right direction, then you healed the musculature around the orb, securing it in place and making it able to move. You could let your breath out. You made several slow blinks, moistening the long-dry eye. You could see.

You turned cautiously, stopping, unsure if you wanted to look at either of them right now. Continuing the turn, part of you was relieved and you wanted to cry tears of joy that you could see again, that you could see them again. The other part of you was utterly mangled, seething, unwilling to give them the time of day. Your newly restored vision only settled on each of them for a millisecond before you breezed past them, yanking Kid's pistol from his belt as you did so. Whatever they said to you as you went, you didn't hear it and you didn't care to. Right now, even though you wanted to really let them have it, you didn't want to say something you would regret. The feelings you had for them held you back. The same feelings are what made you so livid in the first place. If you didn't love them, their actions wouldn't have hurt you this badly. 

So you would do the next best thing, take it out on someone who really deserved it. 

Mini followed closely behind you as you stormed out on deck and down into the bottom level of the ship. The bubbling anger that was roiling within you was laced with a certain malicious giddiness. Finally. Finally, you were going to give that sick piece of human garbage what he earned. The sound of several heavy footsteps followed you. You ignored them. When you slipped into the ship's dungeon, you slammed the door behind you and sealed it with your devil fruit. The heavy footsteps stopped at the door for a time, and eventually walked away. 

You turned your attention to the man at the far end of the room, one you would never mistake for another. Your steps were solid and intentional as you stalked towards him. His eyelids were sewn open and he was swollen with joints at unnatural angles. In spite of your hostility towards them, you couldn't help but feel your lips tug up in a smile at what was surely Kid and Killer's work. It was incredibly satisfying to see Warthin sagging in pain. He recoiled at the sight of you, appearing as if he was trying to disappear into the wall behind him. You raised the pistol as you neared, firing one shot into his abdomen, reloading, and doing the same thing, then again, and again, until you had one bullet left. With that one, you ended your walk by pressing the barrel into his eye. You cocked it, letting him get a good look at the person who was going to end him.

And pulled the trigger.

Next

Tag List: @bbnbhm @nocturnalrorobin

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for needing to know where the cat is before closing a door?

I (25M) moved in with my girlfriend (26F) of two years a few months ago, and things have been going really well up until now. I have pretty bad anxiety that's been managed well enough with medication and therapy, and she's always been very supportive of my mental health, like making jokes she'll ask for no pickles for me, thinks me stuttering while talking to people is cute, etc.

Just over a week ago we adopted her grandmother's cat (4M, his name's Stanley) since she's being moved to a senior care home. She really freaked out at the idea of Stanley going to a shelter, so my girlfriend offered to adopt him so he'd be safe, and we could maybe bring him to visit her sometimes if the care home allowed it. I haven't had a cat since I was a kid, my girlfriend is already friends with him, and her grandmother thought it was a good idea, everyone was happy.

And there's where the problems start. I don't know why, but I'm constantly worried I'm going to lock him in a room or cupboard or something. He's not a very fast cat but he loves finding the darkest most out of the way corner to sleep in, which is usually a wardrobe we leave open, but he tries to squeeze himself anywhere. I can't relax until I see where he is outside of the thing I'm trying to close, as checking inside to verify he isn't in there doesn't work, my brain tells me he snuck in somehow right as I closed the door and I loop around to rechecking it until I go and find him sleeping somewhere else.

Usually my girlfriend laughs it off and assures me he's fine and I'd never lock him in somewhere even by mistake, but its really started to irritate her the past few days. Last night I was looking for him before I could close and turn on the dishwasher, and she just snapped. Yelled that I was being completely ridiculous and wasting time looking for him when I could see he wasn't in there. Before I could say anything back she turned on the dishwasher and it sent me into a panic attack because I still hadn't found Stanley, and I was completely convinced he was in the dishwasher. I couldn't even start calming down until he came in to wait for his dinner, and my girlfriend was making my anxiety worse by continuing to yell at me.

I left to stay at my parent's house after that to calm down properly, and I'm still there this morning (I'm not anxious about leaving Stanley alone with her, she's looked after him prior to us adopting him and I know she wouldn't lock him anywhere). I figured this would be something we'd have to talk about but my girlfriend hasn't answered any of my texts. She's telling other people about this though, since I've gotten messages from friends asking what happened. Some of them (as well as my parents) have assured me what she did was completely out of line, but others told me she's right for trying to help snap me out of my anxiety, and I need to stop being so worried about everything.

I thought she was absolutely the asshole for screaming at me the way she did, but I know it's irrational to think the way I do and I haven't really tried to find ways to stop from doing so. So I don't really know now, AITA for not trying to stop myself thinking like this?

What are these acronyms?

[softandsourcream]

Stop, you’re losing me~ - two

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pairing: idol! yoongi x vet!f reader.

Words: 8,5k

genre(s): angst, hurt- comfort, slow burn, fluff, smut (+18) (not this one tho)

au(s): childhood friends - to lovers, idol yoongi, normal vet reader, entertainment industry, denial and resentment.

Episode warnings: complicated relationship with food, description of diseases, curse words, family drama, grief, loss of loved ones, damaged mental health, a LOT of struggling.

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IMPORTANT: this fic contains a lot of sensitive topics touched upon explicitly. Please, if any of the tags trigger something in you, stop reading. You are more important, and there is much more content you can consume here. Take care please! ♡

enjoy!

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main masterlist

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“Y/N, honey~”

Okay, wait. Here. It was from here where you remembered.

 

You were at home, in the bed that was almost yours. You cry just for that, under your sheets. Lucky you could remain silent; it was almost an empty cry at that point. Automatically, you were crying because that’s what you have to do.

You were exhausted. And you remembered having a bad feeling about all that situation.

“Not ready~”

“It's been a week.” Your mom closed the door, gently sitting on your bed and touching your back with a care that made you cry more. You were already drowning. “Did you think about a therapist yet?”

No. For a lot of things.

 

The first and most important is that you were already starting to improve a week ago. You haven't felt this miserable in months now, almost three. You had started to get up, eat better, and cry less. You talked, you walked, you wanted to laugh, to go out, to go back to work. Everything was fine. You didn't need a therapist.

Oh well, you did. At least you thought about going to one when you were already feeling better. You had the energy to want to be well and for this not to happen. Because the second was that now you didn't have the energy to try to lift yourself up in every way possible.

It was too heavy. But why. Why else would you have relapsed?

“How can you all be so… fine about it.” It wasn't retaliation, because everyone in that house was like that at the time, but you seemed to be the only one still there, and that frustrated you so much that it made things worse.

“We’re not.” You know. “We just know how to-“

“Live with the pain.” You end the sentence, revealing your face slowly to your mother. She looked tired and worried, but she still looked at you with love.

She brushed your hair out of your face, sighing and wiping away your tears softly. It was the only look of pity that you didn’t hate. You allowed it because you didn't have the heart to tell her that it bothered you. She was a mother; she couldn't help it.

“Your brother always told me to take care of you once he died.” She nodded, starting to cry. You haven't seen her cry in a long time. “He assured me that even if I were his mother, I would be able to understand it sooner and miss him differently than you. It's questionable, but that’s what he thought.” She took a breath, as if she had suddenly forgotten to breathe. What was he thinking when he said something like that to a mother? Many times you thought that Kija had no brains to boast about.

"'Don't let her die like this too.' " She quoted, “ ‘If I see her, whatever I end up to, I'm gonna hit her until she comes back to life." I’ll never forget how he told me that.” You smile a little. He also told you that in person days before.

“I've been remembering that non-stop all these months, but I realized that in the end, Y/N, I can't help you if you don't. Not because I don't want to; it's because I'm human, and I don't do miracles, honey.” You nodded like that didn’t hurt you, just because it was true. “I came here to let you know that we love you, we understand, and that if maybe I can’t do anything more for you, if you have a plan, I will always be here for you to help. It’s up to you from here, but you’re not alone.”

He prepared you for his death; everybody knows, what you were doing.

Why now. You were starting to make friends with the feeling that you were fine. You were in that stage of grief that isn’t too tragic.

What might have made you remember the loss as a thing in your life?

Of fucking course.

It took three days for you to use your little desire to continue like this and do something about it. Seun opened his eyes when he saw you entering the kitchen at breakfast, watching your movements cautiously.

“Where’s everybody.”

He blinks, chewing the cereal that was left in his mouth.

“All of them are in school; the rest of them are working.”

“What are you doing here, then?”

“What do you mean?”

“You still live at your parent's house without working? At 28?” He smiles. You were making fun of yourself as you said your age instead of his. He continued eating, calmer. “Embarrassing.”

“Guilty.” He says. “I needed the time, though. Things have been complicated lately.”

You looked at each other, and you thanked him for the gesture with your gaze, taking out a cup to make yourself some tea. Seun worked in Seoul. You didn't see him much, but he had been traveling home very often to see how everyone was doing in general after what happened, to see Jae too, and to be with his family more. Paradoxically, he was a lawyer, a very good and serious one, exaggeratedly contrary to what you were seeing right now, who wore a horrible duck shirt that he had worn as pajamas for as long as you can remember and always left at home, eating colored cereals in the bowl of one of your younger brothers.

When you went, nothing really belonged to you; all your things were already in your respective houses, but there was always room for you. Seun, being the second oldest, had left his room empty a long time ago, but he wore clothes that he had left in case he went.

Being there was like going back in time; you had taken your mother's clothes because you didn't go out much, and the ones you had there were no longer to your taste. The noises in the morning, hearing your mother sing from the kitchen, and seeing how they still danced together from time to time

It was nice.

You ended up eating the remains of yesterday's dinner with him at the inn, in silence. It was difficult for you to eat while like this; it was as if something in your chest prevented you from feeling any kind of human need. You left half the plate, and Seun after seeing that, took a breath.

“Eat that, and I’ll give you a prize.”

"Uh~ surprise me.”

You settled into the chair, ready to really listen to whatever it was. Seun was… you know.

“Dad asked me to take care of the garden outside.”

You frowned deeply, and you laughed because he was serious. “Great. Like when you were seventeen. I woke up with you complaining about it.” He made a face. “How would that be a prize?”

“It’s kind of fun, though. How about you come with me, hm? You don't have to do anything; eat that and just get some sun.

You didn’t eat it. But you go out still.

 

You didn’t even get dressed; you were still in pajamas, sitting on the grass, watching your brother cut leaves to shape bushes. Your father still took great care of that place; you could see that it was even better than before. He quite enjoyed it. You used to sit and look at him this way when you were younger.

“Didn’t know this could be emotional for you. You’re unbelievable.”

You laughed, wiping away your tears. It was stupid; you felt better, honestly.

“Sorry.”

“Sure.” He reached out to place a flower in your hair. It was small, white, the ones that fell from the tree that was right in the middle of everything. You smiled.

“How are you?”

“Better” you were, at least right now.

"Why did you get up today? What’s the occasion, hm?"

He walked away, beginning to pick up the remains on the floor. He was done.

“I just don’t want to feel terrible today.”

“Exiting.” He says this, stretching his back. “You know how hard it’s to force yourself to do that, kid? I am very happy to see you today. It's so brave of you. I'm serious.” It gave you a chill; you weren't used to hearing him talk like that. You simply nodded. “Here.” He gave you another flower; you play with it in your hands. “I'm going in to make lunch; are you coming with me? I can call you when it’s ready.

"No, I'm going to stay here."

Because it was quiet, you heard birds, and it didn't feel like your bed. You were a little desperate when your mother told you to go outside because you would feel better. The last thing you wanted was to get up, but you also hated that she was right.

You didn't open your eyes until you heard a noise that scared you, and it was almost bizarre to see Yoongi, standing with a garbage bag in his hand, looking at you without knowing what to do, giving all meaning to your search for triggers.

 

You blink. Maybe you were hallucinating.

 

Your gardens were together. His family hasn’t moved in all these years. The only thing you knew was that it was their property now, not like yours, which still rented the place. It had more floors than it used to, and instead of having old red wood walls like it used to, it was white and pretty. Yoongi had made sure that his family lived well. Many years ago, the house had been in constant repair; inside, it must have looked different too, but its patios still had no division.

Because they were neighbors, best friends, and family, sometimes they got together right there; why separate it? If they completely trusted each other, they could see each other more that way.

 

Why was Yoongi still in Daegu.

 

You couldn't find enough reasons for him to still be there. He must have been very busy doing his things, far, far from there, far from you.

And it was overwhelming to see him in that garden where you once saw him. It was difficult for you to make yourself believe that this person brought back that ugly feeling of looking like a lost cat.

You touch your chest.

He bowed. You had to cover the sun with one hand to be able to look at him better, and respond in the same way.

“You’re still here.” You say it quietly. 

Yoongi had those eyes, unkind ones. 

That and a sleepy look. He had always had them. If you hadn't known him since forever, you were sure that you would never have spoken to him, and if he did, you wouldn’t feel like speaking to him or maintaining any type of contact with him just because of his look. It was heavy, as if he was constantly having the worst time of his life, but by nature. His father had the same eyes and the same attitude; they communicated nothing with their expressions. At least that was what you knew—what you had stuck with.

But he looked at you in a way you didn't understand right now. That was one thing you didn't understand about the new Yoongi. Before, you used to catch him better because, although he expressed nothing with his eyes, you were the only one who could know how; you could read him in a certain way, and now he was just strange.

Softer. Almost warm but intimidating.

“Hm.” He didn’t move. “What are you doing, Park?" It was a mocking question, almost as if your brother had asked it, but with less emotion and coming from him, of course.

“Sunbathe.” You look dumb trying to look at him. The sun wouldn't let you. “It’s healthy from time to time," he tilted his head. “You need a little bit too. You’re too pale.”

He smirks, looking away, almost like taking the courage to ask. “Can I sit there, then?”

You analyzed the space with your eyes narrowed because you were trying to identify the natural division that existed between his patio and yours. Right on the floor, a few meters from you, there was a fairly thin cement line that divided the two spaces. You pointed your finger at it, moving a little closer so he could see it.

“Don't cross that line, and you'll be fine.”

Yoongi also squinted his eyes, looking at what could barely be seen on the ground. It took him a few seconds, but he managed to spot it and neutralize his gaze, lowering the hand he was using to block the sun coming from above. He snorted before approaching in silence.

You had forgotten what he looked like, and you wanted to say that during the day, with the sun on his face and casual, white clothes, he looked even better. He glows, and you want to punch him in the face.

“You don't fit in here anymore.” You said it simply. He leaned on his hands, leaning his body back, understanding that you didn't mean it with bad intentions. It was simply an observation, but he still didn't quite understand it.

“What do you mean?”

“Here, in Daegu.” He loses his eyes. “You look... expensive.”

You made him laugh unintentionally. Genuinely, he even sat properly so he could look at you. You were facing each other, a considerable distance away, divided by a line of asphalt covered by grass, but there it was.

“What?” That question makes you feel stupid.

“I don’t know, just- you look like you belong to another place. Too handsome and well dressed to be here.

“Ah~ handsome, huh?”

“Yes, Yoongi, too handsome.” It was a fact; he wasn’t stupid. He knows he’s attractive. You played with the flower between your fingers, feeling your heart begin to pound. You didn't even know why; you were sure he knew it wasn't his intention. You heard him laugh again. “You know what I mean.”

At least, you hope so.

“Maybe I don’t belong here anymore.” He says. When you looked up, he was playing with the grass between his fingers. “I don't feel welcome, either.”

“What are you doing here, then.”

He looked at you from there, raised his eyes for a few seconds, then closed them again. “I want to spend time with my family before enlisting. Hyung it’s going on his honeymoon in a few days, and... well, I'm running out of time.”

You had forgotten that.

You had to fight a lot not to ask when he was leaving, because it was two years, and although you hadn't seen him ten years ago, in a way you also had him constantly in your face, always. Now you wouldn't see him at all.

It was none of your business; why would you ask?

“That’s good.”

“You’re still living in he-?”

“Y/N, honey, hello. I thought you had returned to Busan since I didn't see you leave the house. You look tired; are you okay?”

You jumped for that.

“Hello, Mrs. Min. I’m, thank you.”

You had always been surprised by how intimidating that woman seemed to you and how much she loved you. She seemed more loving right now; maybe her age had made her softer, but in her younger days, every time she spoke to you, it was terrible for you. She always spoke to you as if she were making fun of you, with the most beautiful voice you had ever heard and the most studied words there were for a cordial conversation. Over time, you learned that it was genuine happiness, like right now.

“Then why-“

“Mom.” Yoongi stops her, and you realize.

You looked bad, perhaps unstable enough if it was at first glance. You did look tired; you hadn't slept well in months; you were still in your pajamas; and your hair was tied up. You hoped it wouldn't matter to you; you wish it were that way.

You had a flower on your head, at least.

“It's okay.” You told him, more for him than for her, and he looked at you, remaining silent for a few seconds. When you heard the woman's voice again, you were still sharing a look, surprisingly.

“Sorry. I was about to go to your house. I know your mom's working, but Seun it’s at home, isn’t he?” You finally looked at her and nodded, smiling slightly at her.

“Yeah.” It was weird, almost like she was checking to make sure you weren't alone. “Do you want me to leave her a message, Mrs. Min?”

“Oh no! It’s okay. I'll go tonight, but also," you take a deep breath. “It was just to invite you all to dinner tomorrow. Jae will be leaving in a few days, and the rest of his time will be spent with friends, so we can have dinner as a family.”

“I- don’t know. I’ll ask them-“

“I'm telling you, honey.” And you wish she didn’t. “Would you like to come? I know… You've had a tough time, and in the whole year you've been here, I've only seen you twice. We want to help.”

There it is. And just because you wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, you smiled slightly and nodded. You only had those types of reactions at the beginning, when the topic was mentioned. You hate to have them again now. It was directly a discomfort that made you want to sink into the ground because it made you cry instantly and peel off your skin in one go. It was extremely uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want. Just think about it, okay?”

You said your goodbyes; she kissed your forehead and left, leaving you two alone again in an awkward silence. Yoongi didn't have pity in his eyes now, but it was as if he had been reminded of something he had done wrong.

“I can tell them you couldn’t make it.”

“No need to.” You tore up the grass by a handful. Why did everyone think you couldn't do anything for yourself? “I will go. I miss your father's cooking.”

“Okay.” Another silence. “I’m sorry about that. She doesn't have any bad intentions; she cares. She doesn't even treat me the way she treats you."

You smiled a little, and for some reason, your heart started to beat less hard. Just as fast, but it didn't make you want to die. And you didn't like that.

“No problems.” You say, getting up. "It looks like I do fit in here anyway.” You shook yourself for nothing exactly; it was just to feel less uncomfortable as he watched your movements, and you looked at him as you walked to the entrance of your house. He had a lopsided smile, soft eyes, and the flower Seun had given you between his fingers. “you still have twenty minutes left.”

He smiled at you, knowing that you were running away. Still, he didn't stop you.

 

That was one. The next one was a little less exciting.

 

—

You weren’t an events' person.

Not because you felt too bad to attend social things; in fact, you had discovered that it was very efficient at not making you think too much. Being alone was the worst thing you could do, but you didn't like going. It felt almost like a charity event since Kija died; at least that's how it felt. Seun told you it wasn't like that at all, but you feel like it.

Like a charity object.

 

They give you extra food, extra attention, extra compliments, and the comfiest chair. And it was nice sometimes, but today you didn’t want that to happen.

"So... you want the red one or the purple one?” You held them both up, showing them to your sister in the mirror.

“What do you think?”

“I think… I like the purple one.” She didn't seem to like your decision, so you had to convince her. “ Look, it has flowers and sparkles inside. “You’ll look cool, don’t you think?”

“But it doesn't match my outfit~” Hyunji whines, and you smile, pushing away the purple hair tie to comb her hair into a ponytail again. You'd end up convincing her anyway.

“What do you mean? You have purple here.” On her shirt. It was yellow on its own, but it had purple bubbles, and even though the basic style doesn’t work like that, it seemed to make sense to her child's brain.

“You’re right… Okay!” She says, playing with her doll again.

Living with children always makes you wish life was that easy sometimes.

Hyunji has a twin too. It was because your father was a twin of another; the gene was there. They were the youngest in the family, and you had been combing their hair all year. It was complicated because every time they did it, they were together, and they reminded you of the dynamic you had had with Kija your whole life.

At that point, it didn't hurt you so much anymore. The first few times, it had been complicated for you to see, but now the other twin was in the other room, and she had no one else to talk to other than her doll. Nara, your other sister, enters the room.

“You’ll go?” You were dressed.

"Uh-hu,” you responded, checking that everything was in order in the mirror. 

“Yoongi will be there.”

"I know." You spoke with the purple garter between your teeth, so your voice came out funny. “Are you going?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Yoongi will be there.” She rolled her eyes as she turned to the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub, leaning against the wall. You laughed softly.

“Not you too.”

Nara wasn't particularly a fan of his group, at least not at first. Since you hadn't been paying much attention, you didn't really know what the story was like, but apparently, she was starting to listen to them recently, and she genuinely didn't believe that this was the Yoongi she remembered. Now all her siblings were bothering her for refusing to do so.

“I didn’t know! Stop. It's almost overwhelming to see him leave the house sometimes. Last week, I met him twice! Here! In this town, Y/N! He looks like-“

“He doesn't belong in here.” You mumbled, and Nara nodded at you, wrinkling her nose. 

“Nothing good ever happens here; this is too much for me.”

And for you too. But you didn’t say that out loud.

“Go on, kid. Call your sister.” Hyunji thanked you and ran off to find the other twin. You stretched your back.

“Can you tell me what happened between you two?” You scoff, sorting out the chaos you had made to find the purple ribbon in the box your mother had for them.

“Why do you want to know? It’s not that exciting.”

“There's no way.” She got comfortable, almost as if emphasizing her words. “Everybody in this family knows it's something happening to him and you, but nobody asked because they say you stopped crying about it like yesterday.” You laughed at the exaggeration. "Tell me."

“Well.” You took Ara, the other girl who had already been talking about how she wanted her hair, to sit her in the chair that you had placed on the sink counter, so you could see them better. Your mother always did it, and you didn't understand why. It was too unsafe. "The same thing as your sister?”

"No! I want them... like this.” She held up two fingers to you, and you nodded, wetting his hair and carefully untangling it. Ara liked to wear her hair long, so it took you longer, and you were already starting to get tired.

“We were friends, best friends, and things ended. That's all."

It took a second for the teen to sigh and start complaining about how little information you had given her. But you didn't like to talk about it. Not because you couldn't, but because it was something you already had behind you, very far behind. You didn't feel like it was any use to you to talk to anyone about it.

“Did you two kiss at least?"

“Yeah, we did."

Now, she looks excited.

“So you two date!”

“No. We didn’t.”

“Hm, date, but didn’t formalize anything?”

“No.”

“Friends with benefits?”

 

“Hm~ no.”

 

“Fuckbuddys?”

“Jesus Nara. How old are you? Twelve?”

She rolled her eyes, briefly looking at her cell phone”

"Haha. Why are you responding like Seun now? Don't do that; we have more than enough with one.” You responded to something the youngest was telling you, and you handed her a jar of cotton balls that she was asking for. “And I'm seventeen. “So you can tell me if you two were only fu-”

"Well, she, right here it's seven, Nara. So don’t say that ever again.” You saw her grimace in the mirror. “And we were friends. Best friends. Friends don’t- yeah.”

At least that’s what he told you. That you were friends.

“Friends don’t kiss either.”

And you told him that, too.

“I know.”

“Hm.” It seemed as if she didn't want to ask more, perhaps knowing that with the background she had, nothing could end well.

“I’m okay, though. I don't see the need to talk about it now. Yes, I suffered a lot because of it, but that's it; things are the way they are now.”

You had even realized that being around him didn't affect you like you thought. On the day of your wedding, you were sensitive; you knew it; you were predisposed to have a bad time. Now that you are at home with your family, what could go wrong?

“Do you plan to go dressed like that, then?”

“Hm?” You looked at yourself in the mirror in front of you, starting your sister's last ponytail. “What's wrong with it?”

“You’re kidding? You’re literally using mom's clothes.”

Yes, but because yours doesn’t fit in with you like they used to.

“I think it's pretty.” You defend yourself, but not really, finishing your job and taking the creature down from the inn. You heard her say thank you as Nara took your arm. "What-“

“Y/N, I won't allow you to go see your celebrity-famous ex dressed like that, without makeup and wearing ladies' shoes. You even did your hair! Come here.”

“He’s not-“

“Yes, wherever.”

She ended up dressing you in your clothes. Nice clothes of yours that you haven't worn in a while, but they made you feel pretty. Then she tried to do your makeup herself, but you knew how to do it yourself, so you ended up giving in. Your mother scolded them because they were late, and Nara left home with a smile on her face.

 

And you look beautiful. Yoongi thinks that when he saw you enter the house with one tween in your arms and a baby blue cardigan on you,

Of course, you were wearing baby blue.

“Do you think Seun will hit me in the face tonight if he gets drunk enough?” Yoongi asked his brother, receiving the beer he offered him. They could stop by to say hello later. The Parks had always been a lot of people; they had time to greet their parents first. Eun snorts before Jae can say anything.

“He doesn’t have to get drunk for that. You’re currently hurting the two people who matter most to him just by your existence. What do you think will happen?"

He agreed with a gesture, opening the bottle and taking a long drink. Yoongi didn't really like beer, but he would need it today.

“Well, I think,” Jae emphasized himself, shoving another beer into Yoongi's chest for him to hold. He was pulling out some to offer, he assumed. “that you can always talk to them to make them understand. Just like you did with the two of us.”

Make them understand. The problem was that neither of you seemed open to listening, which was fine, but oh well.

Yoongi had taken it upon himself all those days to fix as much as he could in that stretch of time. He had a different way of thinking and handling things, and he was too old to have unresolved issues. He didn't know if it was because he had time before he left or because Daegu and his house, his parents, and the streets where he walked for so long, dragging a useless dream, brought his emotions to the surface.

With you, it was different because he saw you, and it was difficult for him to remember all that he did wrong.

He had been thinking. Enough to have him overwhelmed in so few days, and while apologizing to Eun, for example, for having been so absent in her and her brother's lives, or to his parents, for... exactly the same thing, he saw you, and he knew that it wasn't just him who had to ask for forgiveness.

“They’re good at listening and apologizing for things they have done before. You're a lucky bastard to have to apologize to the most understanding people on earth.”

Eun had found it difficult to forgive him. She spent maybe a week talking to him, thinking about it, talking about it with Jae, and coming to the conclusion that, in fact, he had changed a lot and had given him an opportunity that he was sure he could fulfill. Yoongi was genuinely in another stage of his life, but having things to take care of was exhausting.

He realized more things that night at dinner as well. He didn't know the youngest members of the family, but they turned out to be quite shy compared to all of you, and talking to your family in general was quite easy. Not only that, but he didn't feel strange, out of place, or treated differently for who he was now; catching up with your parents and siblings was nice. Yoongi felt good”

“I would love to, Mr. Park, but I um, I return to Seoul tomorrow. I have commitments there before I leave for service.”

Nara had her birthday in a few days, and they were going to throw her a party. They were inviting Yoongi. He didn't know why his throat hurt from saying no lately. He was never a complacent person.

“Tomorrow? That soon? Will you enlist soon?”

It was impressive how those had been the first words Seun had spoken to Yoongi all night.

“No, it’s- not about that. I have work stuff. recording and practice.”

After that, he started answering questions about his life, which wasn't necessarily a bother. It was okay; he knew your family didn't have bad intentions either. He noticed it.

He also noticed that you barely touched your food.

“Can we talk?” You asked him when you were clearing up the dishes in the kitchen. ‘Sure’ and you took him outside because there was too much noise inside.

"So... you return to Seoul tomorrow."

You look disturbed, but he doesn’t hurry you.

“Hm.” He responded in affirmation. “My last concert is soon, and I have things to take care of before that.”

“Awesome.” 

You look untouched by the situation. By everything. As if you were there by protocol. You hadn't laughed genuinely all night; you just smiled and responded kindly, briefly at that, knowing how much you liked to talk.

He didn't want to say that it had to affect you, but it was as if you had no reaction in your body. Quite the opposite of when he saw you at marriage, where you were with all your feelings on the surface. And he was worried. He has no right to be, though.

“I thought you missed my father’s food.” He tries, and you look confused at him.

“I did it.”

“You barely touch it.”

“Well, that’s none of your business.”

Oh, well.

You covered your face. Yoongi heard you sigh.

“Sorry.” You say.

He nodded, calm. At least trying.

“Didn’t mean to be disrespectful, either. It’s okay.”

Then he waited.

Enough. It was almost ten minutes of pure silence in which you thought about what you would say, and he smoked because you made him nervous and made him want to be doing anything but being aware that you were there.

"Okay," you say. Your words sounded loose. As if you were complaining about something. “Before seeing you that day, at the wedding," you start. “I was fine. I was feeling okay. I was- eating very well, I was starting to go out more, and I had this... silly feeling in my chest that maybe this situation wouldn't mean the end of my days, my life, and that I could do things by myself.”

Yoongi settled back in his place, attentive. It was just that he didn't understand, but he wanted to.

“I knew you would be there.”

“Yeah. Jae, he mentioned something to me.” After the weeding, of course. He would’ve liked to know that, too.

“Yes. So I mentally prepared myself for that, to see you, because it affects me to do so, and I thought I had handled it well that day. It didn't add up to me, because I spent weeks thinking about it and preparing myself for things that didn't happen and would have made everything much worse. I felt bad again, and I started to think a lot about... everything. About Kidja's death and what would happen to me without him in my life. It wasn't even about you. I had gone back to my beginning of grief, Yoongi. And I didn't understand why all the effort I had made to be well was gone so suddenly.”

He blinks. A lot of times.

“I’m- not understanding.“

“I have this theory.” Okay. “When you left, I had this same reaction. I don't really want to compare them because they are different in very big ways, but it reminded me of a lot of things, and seeing you there... I wanted to ask you not to leave. Not again, not like everyone has done it recently, so I can feel better.” His heart was a mess; this information was too much. “And it's stupid, because I don't know you, and I can't trust you, and the fact that you're here does me any good.”

“Y/N.” He insisted.

“I just want to put an end to this.” He could swear you were shaking. “Forever.”

Yoongi's head was going very fast; he felt somewhere else, something surreal. He had lived peacefully for a long time; his heart almost burst out when he heard you say a few more things, like you didn't blame him for anything, but you needed to know that he wouldn't be there anymore, and when you wished him a good life, he went a little crazy because you were leaving.

“Wait!” He was in a rush for some reason. “Just like that? May I… apologize for everything at least?”

He saw how many things went through your head, and he was desperate not to be able to know what. You took your distance before you talked.

“Yoongi, I don’t care.”

Now he was mad. You were acting like a child; resentment was speaking for you. He didn't blame you, at least not entirely, because he knew you were smarter than this. You had more valid, more accurate, and even stronger answers, but you were deciding to run away.

That wasn't what really bothered Yoongi, but the fact that you didn't tell him directly, like you would.

“If you want to live, then do it. But give me a voice too; I'm involved too.”

You snorted and crossed your arms to look at him with a smile on your face.

His blood boiled.

“You know what? Forget it. Have a good night.”

“Oh fantastic.” You move fast, getting closer to his garden but staying on the other side of the small line that divides it. Yoongi stopped, now not willing to listen to anything, nor to say anything constructive, really. “So you’re mad now?”

“It’s just—you're so stubborn! I’m trying to do something here!”

“And what do you want me to do, Yoongi?! Hug you and dry your fucking celebrity tears and tell you that the fact that you broke my heart like it wasn’t a big deal was okay? Oh, so now you want to be involved. You’re living tomorrow! And you want to fix things now? Shut up. You’re doing the exact same thing you did when you left.”

Your voice broke off as you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. Yoongi sighed, closing his eyes.

“We both did things wrong; I just wanted to talk about it before… that's all.”

“Everyone suddenly wants to talk about it.” It wasn't cold outside. Daegu wasn't a cold place, but you hugged yourself and cringed as if it were. “Everyone asks me what happened between us and why we stopped talking. Your father apologized to me in your place today too; he told me that whatever happened, he hoped we could fix it.”

Yes, I had told him that too, since it happened years ago, honestly.

“But I don't see any sense in it. Why talk about something that is already broken? Why do you insist? I just want to close this, okay? It was already dead; leave it like this.”

Yoongi took a moment, because it was true. But you look too real in front of him, and that makes him weak.

“So we can heal, can't we? That’s why you are doing this.” Your eyes look at him. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I had no choice.”

"Yes, you did.” You cut him off. “Do things right, or do things wrong. Those were your options. And you chose.”

Because you had always understood that he was leaving and that Yoongi had bigger things to do outside that place, and you were happy about that, but he didn't tell you until one day before he left forever.

He was completely blinded by having signed recently, by having an opportunity, by doing what he liked, and by the promises that were being made to him. Leaving everything behind, his parents, who did not believe in him, his "friends” who constantly told him that he would not make it, in that place that hurt him so much only excited him.

And unfortunately, you found yourself involved just by being part of that place.

“I know. And I’m really sorry.” You closed your eyes, and you denied it slightly. As if you didn't want to hear those words. “I understand that I made a mistake back then; I was young and dumb, and I- didn’t- I’m not the same person right now. I’m really sorry. I mean it.” 

So... insignificant.

“Why.” And that was the question he didn’t want to hear. “So you can feel better about yourself, or because you're doing me a favor? Why now, Yoongi. If you hadn't seen me that day at the wedding, would you have traveled all the way here just to apologize before you left?”

No. The answer was no.

It wasn't something Yoongi thought about much. In all those years, he had convinced himself that he had done what he had done because sometimes in life, you have to be selfish to prioritize your well-being as a person. To put himself first over others because he had a dream, and fulfilling it meant sacrifices.

He hadn't done anything wrong, you know?

Now he apologized only because he saw you sick, and he felt guilty because he knew that it had affected you more than him. He was stupid because he blindly believed that the fact that he apologized would mean something less in your life, even if he didn't know how important you were to the whole thing itself. And you were sad and depressed, and you had big dark circles in your eyes, and you weren't eating well. You didn't really smile, you had a hard time getting up, and he hadn't seen you leave the house even once in all the time you had been there.

 

He felt responsible.

 

He did it because it left him and only him clean. He was being selfish.

He kept quiet. He wouldn't admit it out loud. 

“I spent nine years of my life on pause waiting for you to care enough to come back to this damn city, so we could fix things. To talk about it. But that was nine years ago, and it’s a little too late right now.”

"I'm,” he stops, getting close to you, pressing his words in his throat so as not to have to raise his voice. “apologizing.”

“Well, you’re not forgiven.” He tense.

“For something I made when I was a teen? I don’t know, but you made some dumb shit back then too.

You kept quiet about that. It was true.

“You don’t seem to mind too much, though.”

“And what do you know about how I feel?”

Because maybe the fact that it didn't stop his life completely was something, but ignoring it didn't mean that it didn't hurt him either.

“Nothing.” A whisper. “I just- I don’t know, okay? But that stupid thing you did as a teen still hurts me and haunts me to this day, and you- I continued to believe that you would have the decency to come to my twin’s funeral. it’s- all that, everything, that’s just my fault.” You firmly acknowledged it. “But I would’ve to be so stupid to believe that you are still that person, because people change, and we were very young, and that’s fine, but Yoongi.” You touch his chest, or at least you had the intention because you didn't get to do it. You stopped and backed away a little. “The problem here is that you still don't care enough. You didn't even want to come here of your own free will... And that's fine, but don't come and- try to talk to me as if that were the case. 

Your eyes soften, and so do Yoongi’s, because you do that when you want to cry.

When you cry, you’re completely harmless; that’s what he knows. If you cry out of anger, happiness, or even just empathy, any emotion automatically transforms into sadness. You leave yourself vulnerable; that's why you didn't allow it in arguments; it was losing instantly. 

So you put yourself back together. 

“That's fucked up, Min, and I don't need to forgive you to live in peace; I don’t want this; I don’t need your apologies; I don’t want to have any kind of contact with you because I don’t want you in my life anymore.”

“Then why are you still here?"

He can smell your perfume from how close you two are to each other now.

 

So he realizes.

 

It was difficult for him to have you so close. Because he felt the heat of your body, and your breathing was agitated. He remembered the touch from when he touched you at the wedding and squeezed his hand so as not to claim it again. His eyes traveled to your lips accidentally, twice trying to stop them without success, nor to his body as he moved forward, seeking to kiss you directly. He stops himself with all the strength he had and a little more, but you didn't move either.

You were both too dazed, feeling the tension in the air. As Yoongi looked at your lips again, this time closer to you, as you licked yours, trying to feel something. He breathed hard, like a bull, feeling almost dizzy. Yoongi had never wanted something so much in his life, and you weren't helping.

You looked down too, raising big eyes to the level of his before whispering, ever so slightly, to answer his question, and Yoongi couldn't believe you existed, looking like this.

He was fucked up.

“I still have a lot of appreciation for you, Yoongi.” You say. “And I respect you enough to do things right.” He closes his eyes when you distance yourself. There was nothing more to do. “I'm still here, but doing all this, doing things you don't want to do, lying to yourself, lying to me?... you're losing me.” 

His eyes were wide open. You looked at him with sadness because you were crying. 

“Leave it as it is, and keep the small part of me you still have with you. Because if you keep trying, I’m gone.” 

And maybe that was what you both needed. A closure, a proper goodbye.

 

The problem was that neither of you had said goodbye, technically.

-

Big big brother, lovely and always available, Seun 💪🏻 - 1:32

‘How is it?’

‘Spooky?’

1:40

‘u’re allergic to dust, kid. You need a hand? 👋🏻👋🏻’

There were so many things you regretted in life.

One of them was to regain the closeness you had with Seun having so many brothers to choose from. Because he was sweet, yes. Maybe if you didn't have him there (knowing that you often live in fear of losing the people you love, it was very clear to you), you would miss him a lot, but he could be very annoying at times.

Don't judge yourself by the contact name by the way. He had set himself up that way, and every time you tried to change him, he found a way to make it longer.

You - 1:41

‘Sure, want you here in ten minutes.’

Big big brother, lovely and always available, Seun 💪🏻 - 1:43

‘Don't tempt meee’

‘You know I’m crazy, right?’

You stopped him immediately, telling him that you were fine, that everything looked fine, and that he shouldn't worry.

It was a two-hour trip. And it wasn't a lie that you were okay.

Moving to Busan was your idea; maybe two years before Kija relapsed and got sick, he wouldn't stop getting worse. He followed you with nothing in mind because, unlike you, he hadn’t been able to study anything. His health was weak, and that weakened his mind as well.

You wanted to get him out of that mentality, to meet people, to go out, and perhaps to look for a job that would help him understand that he could do things well. And you did it, or, well, he did. You didn't see much of the many people he had plans with; he worked in a café near your apartment that was still there; they had even remodeled it. He had a boyfriend, money; you two were together, you always laughed.

It was when you began to set up your clinic (because that was what you had gone to Busan for, aside) in the city that he began to cough very lightly, almost like a cold, and when you took him to see the place where you would start to build your first dream, he passed out at night when they were trying to clean the place. After that, he didn't stop coughing until that same cough took his breath away completely.

You thought he would get better, he looked weak but fine. He talked, he ate, and he didn't sleep as much as he does when he gets that sick. The only thing that told you that he was really struggling was the blood in his cough and that sometimes, when he got up to go to the bathroom, he would call you out of breath because just getting out of bed was too much for him. He was in serious condition, but you didn't think you would have him with you for so little time.

“Open that thing, Y/N. You have everything you need. You’re smart, you’re pretty, and your lungs work wonderfully. Sorry you don’t have any excuses.”

He spent the last days of his life there, in that apartment that you didn't want to return to, because now your whole family wasn't sleeping on the floor, nor was your mother's voice singing to him while everyone was sleeping, and he couldn't do it because the pain was killing him slowly, nor was your father offering you help to open that damn clinic.

Kija died two days before opening it, and he swore he would be there when you did. You believed him.

The door to his room was closed now. When you came into the apartment, it smelled musty, and there were many letters on the floor that were passed under the door while you were gone. His shoes were on the shoe rack at the entrance; your mother must have forgotten them when she cleaned, so you sat there when you arrived; you weren't ready.

It was when Seun spoke to you that you decided to enter the things you were missing.

And you clean the place. You dusted, packed your things, and called the clinic to inform that you were going to return to work that week. You were the boss anyway.

Maybe it was you deceiving yourself, but the more you looked for discomfort within yourself, you couldn't find it. You thought that facing that place would be more complicated, but there you were.

In Busan, and in Busan you didn't want to die.

“I trust him.” Kija could barely speak; he was intubated and medicated, sitting right where you were now, waiting for the medication to completely wear off.

You had stopped talking about it hours ago, that was when you understood that your confession had been hanging around in his head.

‘I have been thinking about Yoongi lately. I think I'll- need him when you’re gone.’

“Text him.” He told you.

You had already told him it was impossible. You had even told him possibilities of a schedule of imaginary activities that he would have at that moment.

“Kija, forget it.”

“I trust him.” He repeated. “He’ll come. He cares about you still, I know.”

You had believed him, and you had smiled slightly at the thought of a possibility.

Now you’re disappointed. It was dimly lit, it was starting to get cold, and your hands covered your face because, wrapped in, now, a gray room, you were giving Yoongi tears for the first time in years.

And Yoongi's tears were different from Kija's. They felt old, meaningless, but they weren’t automatic.

You sob, because maybe this way you could do this the last time you cry about it.

—————————•。・. ゜・。_______________

one masterlist

—————————•。・. ゜・。_______________

taglist: @constancelayon @baechugff @wobblewobble822 @honsoolgloss @alienchickenpoop @idkjustlovingbts @jjkluver7 @cuntessaiii @baechugff @junniesoleilkth

[circulars-reasoning]

Recovery

“If you’re having this easy of a time with recovery, it means it wasn’t as bad as you made it out to be.”

A little over two years ago at this point, I began therapy for the first time. I was absolutely fucking terrified of it. I was terrified of opening up about the lie I'd clearly been living. I was terrified of a well-mannered person looking at me, listening to me, and saying "Is this way of viewing yourself really healthy?" And kindly and calmly explaining to me that I'd fabricated all that trauma, that my abusers weren't actually abusers -- that emotional neglect is more severe than what I'd experienced, and the reason I couldn't remember anything "bad" was because there was nothing bad to remember.

Instead, my therapist had one session with me, had me take a test to see the severity of my symptoms, and diagnosed me faster than I've ever heard of someone being diagnosed.

Just like that.

I have had so much integration since then. I can hear everyone clearly, without straining for it on purpose. I see my life around me, and I forget there's a whole life in my head that I used to spend 24/7 at until a friend reminds me of a time back then, and I remember who I used to be in full detail.

This week in therapy, we discussed my recovery. We discussed how I, as a part, am doing so, so much better than I've ever done -- and how I almost feel bad about it, because other parts aren't doing nearly as well right now. I'm not as depressed, I'm not as suicidal, and I have a lot of things I'm passionate about that I can rely on rather than harmful coping mechanisms -- and I talked about how other parts are more stressed than ever. "It's like they took the worst parts of who I used to be, because we're integrating now, so they have to carry the burden."

And my therapist looked at me, and said, "Why is who you used to be such a burden?"

Recovery hasn't been easy -- but I've definitely gone faster through some of these obstacles than I've seen others in my situation. I take the lessons and I absorb them like a sponge; in a matter of weeks, I completely stop spirals that would've wrecked me before, and push away relapse thoughts with a simple distraction rather than a mental breakdown. It hasn't been easy -- but god, is it easier than what I've seen my friends experience.

I look at my friends, and I see how much they struggle... I feel the need to express the struggles I've gone through. "Oh yeah, I was such a mess in college," I'd say. "I was such a wreck, constantly. My dissociation was so bad. I hated myself so much."

Why is who I used to be a burden?

Why is who I used to be someone I must kick down?

Will it really make me taller?

My homework for this week was very simple, and incredibly complex all the same -- and at the time, when he gave me the assignment, I had my doubts it was really as severe as he suggested. It wasn't until I got to the car with my partner of 6 years, and I told them about the homework that it clicked.

"He told me I need to be kind to my younger self, who I -- as a part -- used to be. He told me I needed to be more positive about that guy." "You know... I fell in love with that version of you." And I winced, because I wanted to laugh and cringe at what a mistake that was.

It clicked for me, today. How this connects to all that self doubt.

“If you’re having this easy of a time with recovery, it means it wasn’t as bad as you made it out to be.”

It always was just that bad. It was exactly as bad as I made it out to be.

But I was far better than I made myself out to be.

[rearranged-fanfic]

(Update 6/3)

Sit down a spell, weary traveler. Come and sit by my fire; bask in the warmth of the flame and rest your aching scrolling finger. You'll be sitting a while, for I have a tale to tell:

Okay, so I've had a Toshiba laptop for the better part of ten years. Maybe a little longer. That laptop has survived being struck by lightning, submerged in a bathtub, and literally having a whole bookcase topple down onto it. I thought it was immortal...

I was sadly mistaken.

About six months ago, I noticed that the typing was getting sluggish. I'd patter away at the keyboard and the letters would appear with a bit of lag. That's fine, since I use Dragon to talk-to-text for quite a bit of my writing. I really only use the keyboard for final assembly, editing, and doing quick rewrites. So, it really didn't bother me. Fastforward to April, which we will call The Great Depression. The time discrepancy between typing and having letters appear on screen became a whopping 40 seconds. Yes, I timed it.

But that was okay, because I could still use my Dragon headset.

Until I couldn't.

It would connect, but the words wouldn't appear on screen. I made sure that all of my programs were up-to-date, and that everything was working. The headset connected to my family's computers just fine. So that meant it was something wrong with mine.

Without being sure if it was the hardware or software at fault, I backed everything up to OneDrive and Google Docs.

I factory reset.

Twice. To no avail.

Over the next few days, my laptop stopped registering any keyboard input at all. It got to a point where I wasn't able to turn it on or off.

Taking it to an electronics store to get repaired didn't help, either. No luck. They said that it would be more cost effective to just buckle down and get a new one, since the age of the laptop meant that I would probably be constantly maintaining it.

My poor Toshiba died kicking and screaming, putting up a fight worthy of an epic ballad.

I saved up for a few weeks, got a new laptop, and went through the rigmarole of getting all of my programs back on it. My files are in order. My life is in shambles (but that's normal, LOL).

I DID do some story work without my computer, but... it's bad. Like, I'd die in shame if I posted anything that I thumbed in. So. Many. Spelling. Errors. How people write on their phone is beyond me. That's a talent I simply don't possess.

At this point, I'm thinking of renaming this story "HIATUS" lol. JK. But I'm seriously peeved that this happened after my last big break. Why couldn't the Depression and laptop breakdown coincide nicely? I guess that's too much to ask of the universe *Shakes fist at the sky*.

I'm creating a damn bingo card for every stupid thing that happens to me while I try to write. Because this is getting ridiculous. I broke my fingers, there was a total solar eclipse, I had a major-ish mental breakdown, and my computer bit the big one. With a free space, that's a bingo. Let's hope I don't get a blackout before the end of 2024.

I doubted the fanfiction curse. I really did. But it's apparently real. And this writer's curse has teeth, people. It bites hard.

I have my MerMay two-shot pretty well done (because I was typing it during The Great Depression), but the next chapter for REARRANGED is still rough. Crimson Chapter 3 is halfway done, but who knows how long that'll take.

The bottom line is that I'm alive and still working on the stories. The next update on this blog will be the posting of several chapters for a few different works. Fingers crossed.

Also, I'm very, very slowly answering the comments in my AO3 inbox. Some of them were pretty lengthy, so it might take a bit. Oof.

If there ever comes a time that I drop this fanfiction or am unable to continue for whatever reason, either I or my husband will be posting the entirety of my outline, as well as anything that's been pre-written for you guys to enjoy. That way there are no questions left unanswered or mysteries unsolved.