#and ended up making me self conscious about stuff i didn’t initially even think about

[jayykesley]

probably sounds weird but sometimes i yearn for my front teeth gap

[ch-4-eri]

First Time? — Lara Croft.

Lara X fem!reader

warnings: virginity taking, smut, fingering, pet names, lara being such a heartthrob. (proofread but sorry for any mistakes.)

anon request.

i finally finished writing this oooo, sorry i rushed the ending.

you were getting ready on the floor of your bedroom, your phone lighting up with a new text message from your girlfriend, Lara.

she promised she’d take you for a walk around town now that you have a break from college exams, random quizzes and all that.

you were very grateful she’s understanding, she did go to university herself, even if she was over five years older than you.

you dabbed some blusher on the apples of your cheeks with the mirror in front of you, then took a hold of your phone to remind her you’ll be there soon, you wouldn’t be late.

it was hours later as you begged Lara to sit down, your legs gave out from the walking you’d already done, sweat breaking out from your forehead.

“jeez, honey.. you’ve got the stamina of a baby.” she said, taking a seat next to you, opening her bottle of water to give you a sip, wiping your sweaty forehead with her palm, then wiped it over her shirt, you liked how Lara didn’t care much for such stuff, like getting your sweat on her clothes.

“drink up.” lara broke you out of your thoughts as you opened your mouth and took a sip from her bottle, lara fixed you up a little, patting down the flying out hairs off your scalp and the side of your face, grabbing a tissue to wipe your cheeks, she’s often motherly with you, at some point you did find it weird but now? you didn’t mind it one bit.

you liked how she took care of you without asking for anything in return.

as she allowed you another sip from her bottle you smiled and chugged it down your dry throat. “are you okay? damn, i’m afraid you’ll pass out on me.” Lara scoffed, smoothing down your shirt.

“i’m fine, sorry.” you finally chuckled, you had no idea why you were so lost in thought that day, you couldn’t help but think.

maybe what had you this hazed up is the thought of lara intimately the other night, and you forced yourself to sleep so you don’t have to think much of it.

Lara knew she had to take it slow as you were much younger than her, and she didn’t want to jump into anything that would make you uncomfortable, she’s so sensitive about the fact that she could do anything that would hurt you, or make you uncomfortable around her, so she hoped you’d initiate it first… until then she’s gonna wait, she’d wait forever for you.

but you? you couldn’t initiate shit, you were a nerve wreck, so damn awkward, maybe you were even slightly self conscious, Lara had no idea you were a virgin, she thought you had a wild past, considering you were in your early twenties, it’s valid for people this age to do so much and you didn’t wanna confirm nor deny things, so you kept quiet.

every time you tried to initiate something, you were worried you didn’t shave, or didn’t shower, you probably smelt bad, you’d just stand there like a fool and forget all about it, idea tossed to the side.

you brain was your worst enemy, and it didn’t help that Lara was one of the prettiest women you could ever be with, you can’t imagine being inexperienced with her, or doing something stupid or looking ugly in such a special moment.

Lara walked you home that day, then you insisted she spends the night, only because it would be fun… right?

Lara on the other hand didn’t think of it that way, she was so sure you’d finally initiate something, she felt so excited she couldn’t breathe at all.

as you opened the door to your bedroom, Lara walked in. just trying to act normal, for now.

she looked at your room, your bed, it was a single bed.. damn.

Lara cleared her throat and went through your books on the shelf, impressed by the variety of collections you had, small figurines she found adorable as you flushed in embarrassment, she was never in your bedroom, it felt nice to have her here though.

she finally took a seat on your bed then, stretching out on your single bed she’d definitely tease you for later.

“pretty room, never imagined your room to be this… singular though.” she giggled, leaning on her knees with a smirk, her brown eyes searching through yours, making your cheek flush a pink shade Lara adored.

“i… yeah..” you blushed.

“don’t be shy, singular beds can be nice too.” Lara said, kicking her boots off as she flopped down the bed, not having space much for you if she were to ever stay the night in your bed like this, she looked amazing on your bed, you couldn’t help but stare as a feeling pooled through you, your cheeks getting redder than before.

you were playing with the hem of your shirt as thoughts rolled around your head, listening to her breathe, her figure resting on your bed like that.

it was so tempting.

you wanted her.

every fibre of your being was aching for her, for her touch, but you couldn’t, you were so scared.

as your thoughts ate away at you, Lara caught on, she always knew, she just hated to pressure you.

she called your name, causing you to look into her warm brown eyes that looked yellow from certain angles and lightings.

“what’s wrong? you’ve been lost in that pretty head of yours all day.” Lara sat up on your bed, her hand taking yours as she placed a soft kiss to your knuckles.

you gulped, you’re gonna say it.

you’re gonna admit it, both the fact that you were a virgin, and the fact that you’ve been craving her for months.

you bit down your slightly chapped lip, turning on your bed to face her, there goes nothing.

it’s better than drowning in these thoughts and feelings, you have to be honest with her, it’s a commitment to do so and you were so committed to Lara.

there’s nothing wrong with being honest about your lack of experience; you knew Lara isn’t shallow and close minded.

you rubbed the side of your head as your breathing caught in your throat, your words choked, you needed to pull yourself together.

Lara took a hold of your chin with her free hand as she leaned her head closer to yours, seeking out your expressions, wanting to understand you and understand your feelings. Lara knew you were too hard on yourself sometimes and barely let it out.

she waited, squeezing your chin softly in her rough fingers.

“i’m..” you finally started, one step at a time.

“Lara i’m… um..” you paused, your tongue tied and your palms so sweaty.

“you’re what, honey?” Lara softly muttered, her fingers still placed underneath your chin, her other hand rubbing your thigh in comfort.

“a… virgin.” you whispered, your gaze averted, refusing to keep eye contact, your embarrassment was bad enough as it is, you can’t imagine how she’d look at you as your thoughts ate away every ounce of common sense you could have had over this.

Lara forced your chin upwards, your gaze falling back into hers.

“and that’s a problem, how?” Lara mumbled, leaning closer to you, the tip of her nose brushing against yours. “tell me.. how’s that a problem?” she asked, her fingers tightening against your chin.

“it’s.. n—not..” you breathed, unable to say anything, she made your brain a mush of mess, unable to think straight.

as if anything about her would make you straight.

Lara's lips made contact with your jaw, her hand on your thigh reached all the way up to hold your hip, pulling you closer.

“that’s right.. i’d get to be the first one to touch you, the only one who touches you…” she mumbled into your soft skin, she’d die doing this and she’d be the happiest woman ever.

“i wanna taste you so bad.” Lara moaned into your neck, bringing you by the waist on top of her, lying down on your small bed.

“Lara.. wait please.” you supported yourself on the bed, your hands on either side of her head as you stared down at your older girlfriend, her hands holding your waist.

“shh… it’s okay.” she cooed, placing soft kisses on your cheek. “i know… we don’t have to do anything, i just wanted you to be certain that i’d never judge you, never belittle you… so what if you've never had sex before?” Lara reassured you, her hand stroking your cheek softly, the pad of her thumb resting on your cheekbone.

“doesn’t make me like you any less, you’re still my girl.”

she smiled, nudging your nose with hers, her other hand gripping your waist in a comforting expression.

“is it… bad to say that i wanna do it with you?” you mumbled, staring at her brown eyes as she was beneath you, giving you the opportunity to be this close to her, her freckles like constellations, her scent so enticing and her warmth inviting, your lips found themselves on the corner of her mouth, feeling her hands on your lower back.

“not bad… i want the same thing, love.” her thick accent rang in your ears, her calloused fingers touching the inside of your shirt, the pad of her thumbs stroking every inch she can come across. your head dipped to the crook of her neck, her perfume even stronger as your nerves burned with desire.

this is the first time you’ve ever been this close to a girl, your lips attached to the soft skin of her neck, her moans echoing through the walls of the bedroom making your untouched pussy throb at the way she writhed and squirmed in your damned small bed.

Lara gripped your hips as she guided your hips closer to hers, “let me take this off.” she whispered, undoing your jeans, her fingers soft and tender.

you helped her take off the garment, Lara knew she can’t fuck up your first time in any way, so she got up from the bed and picked you up around her waist to place you down so she’s on top, your hands buried themselves into her soft hair, bringing your lips to her neck as Lara tugged at your waist, holding back her moans.

your legs were on either side of her, Lara felt so damn dizzy at the sight of your legs spreading for her, she knew you were ready, that you wanted it.

she couldn’t wait to stretch your virgin pussy.

“easy there baby..” Lara moaned, pushing you down the bed by the hips, her fingers moving to slide your panties down your legs, her breath caught over the sight of your pussy, you were so wet… such a virgin, Lara thought.

“oh my..” Lara breathed, bringing her pointer and middle finger to spread your folds, rubbing them into you as you closed your eyes and let her touch you just like how badly you wanted her to. “so pretty…” Lara smiled, rubbing her index finger against your clit, watching you drip.

“such a good girl..” Lara praised you as her wrist flicked and she pumped her index and ring finger into you gently, she made sure you didn’t get hurt, knowing no one’s ever touched you like that before, but oh how proud she felt, it was honour to take your virginity like that, and she was glad you picked her.

“does that hurt?” Lara asked, sticking her fingers into your hole briefly, seeking out your reaction, your body tensed and breath caught in your throat. “no..” was all you said as Lara pushed her fingers slowly just a bit further inside. waiting to see if you’re in any pain before she fucked her fingers into you.

you were so wet, and your muscles relaxed, you enjoyed this beyond words and Lara was so thankful you felt comfortable with her, her lips found your cheek as she slowly fingered you, listening to your soft moans and soft breaths, you were breathtaking.

“so beautiful..” Lara mumbled, smiling at the sight of you like this, it wasn’t long before you gently rocked your hips to match her pace. “don’t hurt yourself baby… let me do the work.” she cooed, holding your hip to keep you from doing anything that will cause you pain.

“need you deeper..” you whispered, Lara complied and moved her fingers deeper, only slowly and with so much caution, you were so tight. only wet enough to let her fingers get sucked inside of you with her movement calculated. “more…” you whined, making Lara smack her lips.

she couldn’t add another finger, that’s pushing it.. especially for a first time. the only moved her other hand to rub at your clit, her fingers buried inside of you just going faster. “that good..?” lara breathed.

“yeah… yeah, fuck fuck..” you moaned, your hips rocking along with lara’s movements, she couldn’t stop you now, she wanted you to cum on her fingers. “fuck!” you mewled out, squirming.

“cum for me baby..” lara rasped, both hands working on your tight sweet pussy, rubbing and thrusting. she leaned in and pressed a kiss to your neck, making you arch your back and rock your hips further into her thick fingers.

Lara slowed her pace just a bit as she saw you coming undone all over her, and all over your bed, mewling and crying into the pillow, she figured your first orgasm would be intense, so she let you ride it out then she pulled out her fingers gently.

she looked at how much you’ve gushed down her fingers and she couldn’t help but shove them in her mouth, licking it clean while rubbing a hand over your stomach to comfort you. “it’s okay baby.” she says, leaning down to press a sticky kiss to your cheek, laying down beside you to hold and comfort you. her arms wrapped around you securely, pulling a blanket over you both as you’re squished on your small bed.

[unreliablesnake]

Good girl (Joel Miller x reader)

Summary: Joel finally tells you how he feels about you, but just when things get interesting, Tess shows up.

Note: fluff, then smut, then angst. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

Warnings: afab!reader, Joel cheating on Tess(?), oral (f receiving), age gap. MINORS DNI!!!

Joel hated this. He hated to feel this way, he hated to be around you, he hated to be so fucking smitten with you. But there was nothing he could do, even if a voice in the back of his mind constantly reminded him that you could be his daughter. You had been born almost in the same year as Sarah, he should be thinking of you as an adoptive daughter, but he couldn’t do that.

He wanted you, he wanted to explore every inch of your body, he wanted to taste your lips, he wanted to hear you whimper his name when you were on the brink of an orgasm.

And now that he had you sitting on the couch in his apartment, his thoughts began to run wild. Your eyes were fixed on him, and he didn’t miss the moment you licked your lips as you watched him. Could you be thinking about the same thing? Could it be that you had been so kind to him despite his usually cold exterior because you also wanted something from him?

The silence was driving him mad, he wished you would break it by saying something–anything, really. But you remained silent and it made him shake his head. You had been flirting for weeks now, he could tell that, but you could’ve been pretending to like him. But why would you do that?

So he did the only thing he could think of by dropping to his knees in front of you, his hands resting on your thighs as he looked up at you. “I can’t act like I didn’t care about you. I want to make you feel good, baby,” he said, not really processing his own words. If he knew what he was doing and saying instinctively, he would have slapped himself to snap out of it.

You gulped and your mouth opened as if you were about to say something. He eagerly waited for your reaction, even if you were planning to reject him, but you didn’t say anything in the end. His thumbs were drawing circles into your skin through your jeans and he leaned close to you to see if there would be any kind of reaction to the proximity.

Then something suddenly changed in you and you leaned forward to press your lips to his, initiating a kiss that lit a fire inside of Joel. He wanted you so badly that his hands moved to your neck, pulling you closer as if he could only stay alive if he kissed you.

“Come on, let’s get you out of these pants,” he whispered against your lips.

But when he began to unbutton your jeans, you put your hand on his to stop him. “Are you sure about this?” He nodded without hesitation. “Okay, but how about me going first? That would give you time to recover because I really, really, really want you to thoroughly fuck me.”

Joel laughed at your blunt statement, then placed a kiss on the tip of your nose. “Tonight is all about you. I’ve been waiting to taste you for way too long.”

You watched him for a while before finally nodding. This was the green light he’d been waiting for, so he quickly helped you out of your pants and panties, then grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge of the couch where he was kneeling. The old, hardwood floor wasn’t kind to his knees, but this was the kind of pain that he was willing to endure for the sake of your pleasure.

It was a challenge, really, whether or not he could live up to your expectations at his age. He was in good shape for a fifty-six year old, he wasn’t afraid to admit that, but that bright, hopeful look in your eyes still managed to make him feel self-conscious.

At first he just placed soft kisses on your cunt, this delicate move already drawing quiet moans out of you. Then his tongue was pressed between your folds, not wanting to waste any precious seconds by playing around. You squirmed under his hold, biting down on your lower lip as you tried to stay quiet.

He wanted to hear you so he glanced up at you and said, “Listen, baby, you can be as loud as you want. Let me hear you, okay?” You nodded obediently. “Good girl,” he said with a smirk before diving back between your legs.

His tongue was pumping in and out of your cunt, keeping a steady rhythm that made you tangle your fingers in his hair, keeping him close to yourself. “God, Joel,” you moaned, finally getting vocal just as he wanted. “Right there, that’s the spot.”

With a smile crawling back on his lips, he pressed his thumb against your clit, toying with the sensitive part as he kept licking between your folds. He could feel your body react to the pleasures he was giving you, and he had to tighten his grip on your thigh to keep you from squirming too much. You were so close to the top that it would have been a sin to slow down now.

So he kept going, getting drunk on hearing the sweet sounds you made because of him, and only him. But before his ego could grow any bigger, you suddenly yelped and moved your hand from the back of his head to his chin, forcing him to look up.

“What is it?” he asked in an annoyed tone. You were so close, why didn’t you let him finish what he started? Instead of answering, you silently motioned to the door with your head. When he looked over there, Joel found Tess standing there. “Oh, fuck,” he muttered to himself. She was supposed to be away for at least a few weeks, letting off some steam at Frank and Bill’s home after their fight the other day.

The fight that had been closed by her saying things between them were over. She ended their relationship, he was a free man, allowed to do whatever he wanted with whoever he chose. And he chose you, the sweet and gorgeous young woman that was so fucking irresistible that he could barely keep himself away from your delicious, warm cunt.

“So this is what you do every time I step out the door?” Tess asked him with a disappointed huff.

Joel bit the inside of his mouth to keep himself from snapping at her. You’re the one who said it was over. You’re the one who packed your things and left. You’re the one who said you might just stay in Frank and Bill’s safe little neighborhood. But he remained silent. It was wiser to stay quiet. To avert his thoughts, he reached out to pick up a blanket from the side of the couch and placed it on your lap.

“She could be your daughter, Joel!” she said angrily.

“I know that, okay?” he asked as he straightened up and stood between you and Tess. “But you said we were done, I moved on.”

The woman’s jaw dropped. “I’ve only been away for over a week!”

He heard you. He heard you lean down to pick up your jeans and quickly put it on under the blanket. “You stay where you are,” he warned you without looking back at you. Silence fell on the room and he knew you understood the order. You were such a good, obedient little girl for him. Fuck, he wished he could just finish what he had started. “Tess, just go. Please.”

She didn't move, only watched him with a look that could kill. Hell, he would rather choose to fight a goddamn infected than being here now. After what felt like an eternity, Tess finally shook her head and left the apartment.

“You shouldn't have done that,” you spoke up quietly, making him look at you. “The two of you have been together for so long, you shouldn't end it like this.”

But Joel shook his head as he sat down on the couch next to you. “I chose you, okay? People fall in and out of love all the time. Our time with Tess is up, I want to be with you,” he explained as he took your hand and raised it to his mouth to kiss your palm.

“I–I need time to think. On my own,” you added before he could say anything. He knew his face gave away the disappointment he felt, because you leaned over to place a soft kiss on his cheek then said, “I really like you, Joel, but I don’t want you to give up something important for me.”

“I thought you had fun with me,” he told you quietly as he leaned close enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I did.”

He gulped, carefully thinking about his next words. It wouldn’t be easy to convince you because you seemed determined to leave, but he wanted you to stay, he wanted to see you fall apart because of him. “I thought you wanted me to thoroughly fuck you,” he finally said, quoting you.

You nodded. You remained silent, though, and this drove him crazy. He needed you to talk, he needed you to communicate to make this work. As if you could read his mind, you kissed him, gently enough to calm his mind that was on fire now. “We need time to think about what we truly want.”

“You changed your mind?”

“No.”

Joel smiled at you. “Good. Then stay here, it’s almost curfew time anyway, and let me prove to you that you need me just as much as I need you,” he said before kissing you. You didn’t hesitate to return it, and you instinctively reached out to unbutton his shirt. “Attagirl,” he whispered against your lips.

[the1975attheirverybest]

She has had bad sex experience with her ex partner and Matty is trying extra hard and is being super careful he wants to change her perspective i need smth like that just him really trying 🥹

Okay, so, let’s say he didn’t know at first. So, one night, as their relationship is getting serious, and they’re getting into that stage where, sex is on the table, he’s king of getting excited. Building it up in his head. Anticipation getting to him. Waiting to see her and stuff. So, they’re like kissing on the couch, or something, and things get heated. And he thinks, this is the perfect time to initiate. But as he’s getting things going, he notices her stiffen up, kind of freeze. She’s in her head. Thinking that she should stop him, but worried he might not get it. So, he pauses, pulls away a bit, and looks at her, “hey, ‘s this okay?” He’s speaking softly and hesitantly. She looks at him and just blurts it all out. She says her ex made it awful and she’s worried she might not be ready and wants to take it slow.

Of course, he’s understanding about it cuz that’s the bare minimum in his eyes. But also a part of him is fantasizing about laying into that guy for ever hurting her or making her uncomfortable or putting his pleasure before hers. They have a talk about it several times, and end up deciding that the best way to go about is, she’ll let him know when she’s ready. They come up with a verbal AND non-verbal signal in case she gets shy and stuff. And he promises and reassures her that they will take it at her pace.

Throughout the waiting period, Matty has imagined it like a billion times in his head. All the things that he would do and say to make her comfortable. All the things to keep in mind about her body language and her comfort levels. Every time, his heart aches at the prospect of her ever not enjoying herself during such an intimate and vulnerable moment and he just wants to wrap her in his love and care and make sure she’s alright.

When the moment finally comes, he’s READY. He’s thought this through a million times. He actually has to remind himself to breathe and stay in the moment so that he can best support her. This is, after all, about HER, not his ego and his abilities to be a good boyfriend. So, he makes sure he’s slow and gentle the whole way. Checking in at every step. Consent is always a priority. He’s so soft about it too that it makes her heart melt. “May I please take your top off?” And he’s watching her, his eyes so fragile and attentive. “Tell me what you like, baby, no rush, alright? We’ve got all night. Don’t have to do it all at once….”

Her pleasure is THE ONLY thing on his mind. When talking to him about her past experiences, she told him that the problem was that she didn’t feel she could speak up in the moment. Which is understandable. With someone’s dick inside you and they’re clearly enjoying themselves, it can be hard to gracefully, redirect and it made her feel self-conscious and she got stuck in her head. So, knowing that he might be hesitant to speak up, Matty makes a point of pausing and asking her how she’s doing, to make space for her to express herself.

They start off with him making her cum twice. Once with his hands and the other with his mouth. The whole time, he’s praising her and kissing her skin, the insides of her legs, her stomach, below her belly button. He’s being so sweet and gentle and encouraging. He checks in, in between movements, and the fact that he’s actively looking out for her makes her melt into him even more. She feels so relieved to be able to let go and not have to be on the defense cuz she knows he’s doing the vigilant work for her. She’s never felt this safe with anyone before which makes the whole experience more intense. Emotionally and physically.

When she’s in the midst of her pleasure and can’t speak, and she’s writhing and twitching, she hears him say, softly, “tell me if you’re good to go further, yeah? Squeeze my hand once for yes, and twice for no.” And she does as he says, and is surprised when he thanks and kisses her, as if she just did him a huge favor.

After she cums, her body feels like jelly and she’s looking sleepy and droopy, so he comes up to her, kissing on her, stroking her cheek. “Did so well for me, my love. I’m so proud of you. Thank you for trusting me.” And she’s like “we’re not done yet….what about you?”

“ don’t worry about me, darlin.’ Just wanna make sure you’re taken care of.” He smiles, going back to kissing her all over.

She pushes him off to redirect his gaze back towards hers. “Matty, it’s okay. I want this. I promise.”

He’s not too sure. He studies her face with careful scrutiny. Searching for any signs of discomfort or possible pressure. “We don’t have to rush into anything. I’m fine to wait another time. Really. Just wanted you to feel good, honey.”

She looks down at the bulge in his jeans. “Please, let me? I wanna show you how grateful I am.”

He launches into a whole thing about how she shouldn’t be grateful. This is the bare minimum. Being decent and actually giving a shit about your partner during sex is objectively the normal thing to do and it’s ridiculous that anyone has ever made her think that it’s somehow a bonus or whatever. She cuts him off with a passionate kiss, giggling and telling him he needs to learn when to shut the fuck up and take a compliment.

She helps him undress, looking up at him on her knees, lust in her eyes, and he could literally melt. His hands find her jaw, caressing it lightly, and quickly reminding her of their agreed-upon signals. “If you can’t speak, squeeze my hand, my leg, anything you need. Alright? Tap me 3 times if that feels easier, yes?” She promises she’s got it and looks down at him, practically salivating.

When caught up in the pleasure, maybe he thrusts a bit too harshly or tugs on her hair without having cleared it with her first and he immediately panics and starts apologizing.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so- I- just got too excited and- fuck, I hurt you, didn’t I?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Matty, dear, you don’t have to be so gentle with me. I’m alright. I promise. I liked it.”

He smiles, relieved. And she goes back to pleasuring him before he can let another worry enter his brain. Soon, he’s coming undone at by hands, and moaning and shaking.

As soon as they’re finished, he pulls her in for a huge hug, thanking her over and over, and giving her forehand kisses.

[whentherewerebicycles]

oof guys some days I feel very competent at my job and some days I feel a little in over my head. today it’s definitely the latter… I think it was just a lot of being in meetings with high-ranking admins who have been here for 10+ years and thus have LOTS of knowledge of context & lots of strong opinions about these big institution-wide issues. I don’t think I ever embarrass myself in these types of meetings (mostly because I try not to talk too much and instead focus on asking questions… maybe that’s embarrassing in its own way but feels better than accidentally saying something stupid/ignorant). but they always make me feel very conscious of how new I am both to the institution and to this type of role!! however I am trying to remind myself that these people didn’t start out knowing everything about our university system or about how to think at this level… they have accumulated that understanding over many years of being involved in lots of different initiatives at different levels. I can learn these skills and the fact that I don’t have them quite yet doesn’t mean I’m ill-suited to the job or doomed to be less effective than my longer-tenured coworkers. but it does means I need to do some thinking about what those skills are and how to build them over time.

(also a lot of these meetings were about using data to inform institutional recommendations and I feel VERY insecure about my ability to draw conclusions from quantitative data. I don’t have the training and I’m not totally sure how to get it at this stage. then I start getting in my own head about being stupid with numbers, which makes it harder to see the ways that I could still contribute usefully to these discussions even if I can’t be much help with number-crunching. I could also think about how to develop these skills but honestly I just find it all SO BORING it’s hard to motivate myself to even want to pay attention. not something you are really allowed to feel at this level though!!)

I think the other problem is that I’m feeling a little bit checked out because of the pregnancy. it’s partly just that I feel pretty tired and physically worn out all the time… so it’s often easier to focus on the concrete small tasks on my plate than to do the big picture conceptual thinking I was doing at the start of this position. it’s also partly that I’m three months away from being out for six months, which makes me feel less motivated to tackle big stuff… it’s easier to wrap up loose ends than to launch new projects that will have to be put on the shelf for a long time. and then idk I feel like I’m allocating a huge chunk of my intellectual and emotional resources to preparing for parenthood, I guess? like the background hum in my brain these days is all about trying to get ready for this huge self-shattering life transition. not that you can ever be ready but I feel like so much of my energy is focused on my personal life right now when in the past it’s been much more skewed towards work. that seems normal under the circumstances! but it’s hard to figure out how to rebalance, or if I even need to rebalance at this point. like is it ok to be consumed by impending parenthood and to not feel quite as invested in or interested in my career for a stretch?? is that ok or do I need to work more actively to correct it?

[apollos-boyfriend]

i would love to hear about indie horror rpg number 957!! i adore indie horror rpg games

WELL since u so kindly asked. it is now time for one of my Many corpse party rants ^_^ and yes ik corpse party is not as like. unknown as like, jimmy and the pulsating mass or smth (which is something i REALLY need to get around to playing, actually) but with the recent sequel announcement i have been spinning it in my head much more than usual. more accurately, how bad the writing got by the end and how disappointing the ending to the heavenly host arc was, because it had SO much potential!! the initial game was such a hit for a reason!! (initial referring to the like, DS version era, which feels weird to say but you get my point. initial full version of the main story.)

book of shadows highlights this issue the most for me, because like. it has Such a good concept. the idea that everything is contained in a horrifying time loop in which these characters slowly regain the memories of their past loop, including their gruesome deaths. that’s fucking terrifying!! having to face the fact that not only have you done this before, but you didn’t survive, and maybe you’re fated to never make it out of this alive, no matter how hard you try. that your fate will actually worsen the deeper you go into the loops. that nothing you do matters. it never did and it never will. (it also does some other things i like, such as delving into the alternate endings/realities and fleshing out more characters, dynamics, and backstories. that was good!! i enjoyed that!! largely bc the new stuff they introduced was actually yknow. new. and not characters from a novel they just threw in and acted like you should already be acquainted with them.)

the issue with book of shadows for me is that like. the characters are SO stupid. like. fucking mayu?? she REALIZES the marks on her body are there because that’s how she dies, then just. never fucking tells anyone?? and SPLITS UP??? i don’t care how self-conscious she is i will never excuse that choice. she recognizes the room that killed her. she makes a conscious decision to not enter it. and then enters anyway!!! because fuck you!!! if she’d ended up there again in any other way i wouldn’t have cared so much because like. again. they’re fated to always die in exponentially terrible ways yadda yadda. but the way they got her there is SO stupid. had she not ran into i THINK ayumi and yoshiki(???) it would’ve made everything a hundred times better. have her panic over her situation and not pay attention to where she’s going. running into others and not saying anything just makes it all so frustrating to play through. the concept is fun but it just becomes annoying instead of horrifying because you’re forced to sit through these characters being idiots and get distracted by that instead of the actual horror of the situation.

book of shadows just has gameplay issues as well, like jesus christ did we need such insane completion goals 😭 having to spam click through 30+ endings is more torture than anything they ever put their characters through. it’s not even worth it considering how much the ending sucks either. you had a good premise!!! an amazing one even!!!! why did you do her like that!!!

anyways. mods are asleep post mayu splatter dot jpg

[callgespenst]

My Ohayocon 2k23 Writeup

Every time I go to a con and I think “wow, so much happened, that was fun” and then it all blends together with every other con I’ve ever been to after a few weeks. This will be the first of hopefully many convention diaries/life updates so I can look back in a few years and -not- wonder where the time has gone.

THURSDAY: while the con had events (mostly badge pickup, really) on Thursday, we elected to skip out to go see the Reincarnated as a Slime movie before the weekend really got started. Good movie! Got cash out for the con and some last minute supplies (more E6000 glue for my boot covers).

FRIDAY: My wife and I both had to work in the morning but as soon as that was done we got our costumes on and got out the door! I wore my Paptimus Scirocco cosplay, which I haven’t taken the chance to do since ANYC 2019. (There haven’t been a whole lot of anime cons since then, or at least, not ones I’ve felt safe going to). Got in, bought our badges at the door (almost glad we didn’t pre-reg, the line for that was much longer) and went straight to the dealer’s room. Ran into a few friends, went to our long time favorite vendors of Otaku Joseph and Megaroad, and didn’t actually spend a whole lot of money because our collections are already massive and out of control. I got a lot of small stuff (my last daily photo) going through some dealer’s bins and chatted with a guy who was also looking through for cool robots. After that was dinner with friends at the local pizzeria, and a panel, and then we left early.

THE PANEL: Went to a guest panel for Shin Kurokawa, who worked on the AnimEigo Macross release in the early aughts. I’ve learned a lot about early anime fan culture (exchanging raw VHS tapes, some of the first cons, etc), but never really heard anything about working from an official perspective at that point, so that was fascinating. Used to be a lot harder to make DVDs, that’s for damn sure. Kurokawa revealed that the release of the DVD set got pushed up, after being delayed for a while, because 9/11 happened, a lot of people cancelled their preorders, and they wanted to cut their losses. So then someone at the end of the panel, starts to ask “So, if 9/11 hadn’t happened...” and everyone starts laughing because, what a way to open a question about anime.

SATURDAY: Our friend Koji came up for the day so a lot of our Saturday was showing them around the dealer’s hall, artist’s alley, and taking photos (I was Gamlin on Saturday, and my wife was dressed as Nekki Basara all weekend). We got lunch at North Market during the only lull in the ramen place’s line, and managed to show Koji around and have a good time. Took those two back early and then went back to the con center on my own.

KARAOKE: Fumbled my way through Totsugeki Love Heart, I usually do a lot better but I felt weirdly self-conscious at the time. The funny part was before karaoke, when we were sitting outside the room in line. The hosts were doing a sound test, and it sounded suspiciously like “The Borderline” by Sharon Apple. So I turn to my buddy next to me in line and say “Hey, isn’t that The Borderline?” and he says “I don’t think it is”. So I go up and open the door just to confirm, and I was right! And in my con-powered enthusiasm I turn around and shout “IT -IS- THE BORDERLINE, FUCK YOU ANTHONY!” to the confusion of most of the other people around us.

SATURDAY EVENING: Went to go get pizza again with a slightly different group of friends. Met a Quattro cosplayer who seemed pretty cool. Ended up sitting around for three or four hours just bullshitting, which is always good. Got tired and left just before midnight.

SUNDAY: Designated Mahjong Day. Most of the rest of my usual group didn’t show up until one, so I played some DDR (did awful) and some Initial D (did alright). I think that was the exact motivation I needed to get back into playing DDR more seriously, accidentally put on a ten-footer (on basic mode!) and got most of the way through it even though it wasn’t a song I was familiar with. Just gotta build my stamina back up. Then I helped with a mahjong teaching session, which was a nice confidence booster, I felt like I was doing pretty well with three players who were mostly unfamiliar with the game. We had -both- genders of Americans interested in riichi mahjong, “played it via Yakuza”, and “played it via FFXIV”. The game room closed early due to snow, and then we went home.

OTHER HIGHLIGHTS: the literal, honest to god barbershop quartet that was there on Sunday. I don’t think they were there as attendees, they just went to entertain a crowd, and they were pretty damn good. Their group name was “The Fourskins”, and you can “follow them on nowhere”.

All in all, I had a great convention! No drama, no bullshit. Fewer of the lads made it this year than usual, but those who did come, I got to have a good time with, which is what counts. For my next convention I really need to submit some panels, cons don’t quite feel right without them.

[wild-at-mind]

TW- murder, transphobia, racism, incarceration, suicide

I remember in 2018 (I think that was the year) I went to a TDoR vigil at the cafe in the next city over, which at the time was the source of much of my LGBTQ connection, along with a meetup group I attended in the same area. The vigil ceremony was not ideal in many ways- some local reporters talked over part of the address, and during the name reading it was clear that the Latin American names were being pronounced wrongly. In the UK it can be harder to find someone who is culturally connected to Latin America who could do the reading or at least advise than it might be in the US, so I don’t know if they would have ever been perfect, but it seemed that pronunciation had not been even checked and it was really noticeable. But while there is room for improvement I still think it’s an overall good that this vigil happened.

The gathering in the cafe beforehand was better. I was very tentatively exploring my gender stuff back then, and being around so many trans and nonbinary people of all ages was very powerful. I remember seeing a group of older trans women who looked weary and tired talking at one of the tables.. or perhaps they were cross dressers. The line between them can be blurred, especially in older generations. And being a male cross dresser who doesn’t identify as a trans woman does not protect you from violence. One of the murder victims on the TDoR list this year is Jimmie ‘Jay’ Lee, a black self identified gay man in the US who was murdered while wearing women’s clothing. https://tdor.translivesmatter.info/reports/2022/07/08/jimmie-jay-lee_lafayette-county-mississippi-usa_348b20a4  Plenty of historical transfemme people identified variously as cross dressers or drag queens as well as trans women. I’m hardly the first to say this but I hope that an obsession with correct labelling in the LGBTQ community does not mean the important things get ignored.

At that 2018 gathering before the vigil the cafe was packed, full and standing. I felt a sense of community with people there suddenly, even though I didn’t know most of them, because I felt we were all coming together for something bigger than ourselves. I think it’s easy for something as personal and identity based as gender to become very inclosed in our own heads, especially for the comparitively privileged (Western, white, ok financially) and that’s something I’ve found difficult. For me at least, because of these things that I have and the comfort they provide, it can feel self indulgent to focus on myself. Coming together in this outward focusing way with so many trans and nb people at that time was incredibly moving and poweful. Especially important to me is that it had nothing to do with the kind of awkward self flaggellation that self conscious white queer communities can end up doing when trying to support people much more marginilised. I hate that this seems to be so inescapable sometimes. Though maybe that was a misguided view as I later saw an overview of some of the criticism of TDoR on wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transgender_Day_of_Remembrance  in the Reception section. (It uses a lot of language about ‘bodies’ rather than people, a language choice which I have seen pushback on recently from black people especially, so warning for that.) As a way to honour trans and gender nonconforming people who were murdered or took their own lives, it is vastly imperfect, as we saw from the badly done reading of the names I talked about earlier. It’s ok for things to be imperfect and nuanced, and I hope I will make an effort to actively learn more about these issues. It’s common for activists for a particular cause to be asked to think of and draw attention to related injustices, and I think TDoR should be no different. Starting in the UK, where I live, the story of Taylor really gripped me. Taylor was a trans man who in prison serving an IPP, Indeterminate sentence for Public Protection. He was in a situation where he had served 10 years over his initial sentence, due to the nature of the IPP, and had no release date. They no longer give out these sentences, presumably because they are inhumane, but they were not retroactively repealed. I encourage you to read more here: https://tdor.translivesmatter.info/reports/2022/07/09/taylor_wotton-under-edge-gloucestershire-united-kingdom_87fabb44 and here: https://iwoc.iww.org.uk/free-taylor/ (Note- this was written before Taylor’s death.) Taylor took his life in prison while under an insufficient suicide watch. Transphobia was one of the problems he faced in his life but it was one of many, and all were exacerbated by him being locked up for so long. This makes me want to learn more about UK prison advocacy- we have the highest rate of prison suicide in the world according to the IWOC link there, and that horrified me. A homeless man in my hometown who to be honest was mainly known for acting strangely in public (shouting in megaphone while wearing odd outfits- mildly annoying I guess but harmless) was jailed for one of those ‘crimes’ they get homeless people for, and soon after he took his life in prison. There was a shrine to him in the town centre when the news came. His name was Lee and they called him Superman because that was one of his outfits. It made me think of him and how fucked up the system is, if he hadn’t been locked up he could still be alive.

Got a bit rambly there. I hope it made sense. Sending my love to all trans and gender nonconforming people today. And I hope I can focus on the wider issues in UK society in the name of the amazing trans people I know, for the love of humanity and people of all kinds in our country.

[salemwritesxx]

𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾.

𝕋 𝕒 𝕜 𝕒 𝕞 𝕚  𝕂 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕠  |  ℍ 𝕒 𝕨 𝕜 𝕤

     ⇴ male reader [22, chubby, 194cm]      ⇴ all characters are depicted as [18]+

↳ summary: [Your.name] is a chubby and tall man, someone who definitely didn’t fit Japan’s beauty standards. Safe to say, he wasn’t the most confident. However, during one group date, it finally all changes when he meets someone who is certainly very interested in him.

↣ rating: general audiences ↣ warnings: modern AU; self-deprecation; chubby, tall reader; reader’s “friends” being assholes to chubby reader; hawks and reader have a happy end tho; hawks is a simp for reader from the first minute on, ok?

part 2.

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“Come with us, they said. It will be fun, they said.”, you mumbled to yourself as you stood there. Awkward. Alone. Ignored. Too afraid the tiny bar stools would collapse underneath your big ass, hence why you chose to rather stand than sit.

Why did you let yourself get dragged into this group date? You wanted to say no in the beginning, but with your friends pestering you, you kind of agreed in the end. Though now, you knew all too well why you didn’t want to come.

As a chubby and very tall man, you weren’t the type that people, or rather, gay men, drooled over. At least you hadn’t had anyone show interest in you like that. Maybe it was because you were rather shy and thus not as loud as many of your fellow male friends, or you were the “wrong chubby”. Whatever it was, you were not attractive. Society made sure to tell you that at least once a day and sometimes those nice and kind people, not, were even going out of their way to tell you what a nuisance your were with your tall, fat ass taking up space. And in Japan, where everything was not really built to accommodate people like you, it was sometimes very hard to fit into things.

While you were sighing to yourself for the nth time and making sure to put yourself down as much as you could, you certainly didn’t realize how someone was always glancing at you. Hawks was one of the four gay men you and your friends had met today for said group date. Ever since he saw you, he had the urge to talk to you and get to know you. You were so tall and handsome and t h i c k. You could probably swing him around and break him like a toothpick. Just thinking about it made him grin.

However, it almost seemed like you had a shield around you he just couldn’t break through. He could guess why. Not only once had he seen people bullying the ones that didn’t fit the norm. Too fat, too skinny, too small, too tall – there was no end. People always found reasons to put others down. With how you stood there all alone, trying to make yourself as small as possible, Kei understood you tried to hide and you were uncomfortable. Even though you literally had nothing to hide. God, he wished he had met you sooner.

“Oiii Ta-ka-mi-san!”, his thoughts were rudely interrupted.

“What are you staring at Takami-san?”, then one of your friends, who was obviously interested in him, looked in the direction as well.

“Ah. [Your.name], huh? He’s like a car accident, right? You don’t wanna look but you also can’t really look away.”, your ‘friend’ laughed and Kei could have not been more disgusted by that behavior.

“God I wish I could just punch you, you fucking idiot!”, Keigo thought, furious and having to gulp down the anger.

Thus, he just smiled a little before he silently stood up to walk over to you, ignoring the calling of your ‘friend’. Instead, he got all nervous all of a sudden. Normally, he was the one being confessed to, not the one confessing or even initiating a conversation. Takami was used to people fawning over him, he was a rather successful model after all, hence why it was so hard to find someone who wasn’t just interested in him sexually or because of his money. And it did not help one bit that he found you so unbelievably attractive as well, his nervousness was at its peak.

“Hey. You’re… [Your.name], right?”, he tried to sound very casual as he leaned against the bar beside you. AND MY GOD, he was so tiny compared to you. He loved it. The way he had to look up so much.

You were rather surprised to get attention, especially from someone like Hawks. Like, he was so out of your league it was ridiculous to even think he would even BREATH besides you – yet there he was. Talking to you-

Oh. You knew what he wanted.

“Okay, look, let’s just skip all that polite small talk, the little laughs so we don’t feel awkward before you drop the question. Just tell me, which number do you want? Or should I just give you all three?”, you immediately cut to the chase. It had never been any different, so why would it be today? Especially when someone so sexy and pretty talked to you? Obviously he wanted someone from your much more handsome and well-trained friends.

Hawks was, however, rather surprised that THIS was your initial reaction to him talking to you. Though he could have not known how hard it would truly be to get to know you or get your number.

“Uhm… To be honest, your number alone would be quite sufficient.”, Keigo played it smooth. A handsome smile on his lips covered up his own nervousness – was he about to get rejected?

For a few seconds you stared at him, completely flabbergasted. Then you turned around and looked around… and looked around… and looked around some more until he finally asked, “Everything okay? You looking for an escape route?”

Keigo chuckled at the end, though he was not as calm as he pretended to be.

“No, I just…”, you then turned to him again, your brows furrowed, “… You can stop now, you know? Like, are you trying to prank me or…? Cameras anywhere? Like haha we got the fat guy. Look at him getting all flustered finally getting attention. Hahaha funny.”

At the end, you almost sounded a little angry, before you grabbed your drink and walked away from the bar. Saying Hawks was confused was an understatement. He just watched you for a moment as you walked away and squeezed into a lonely corner. God… How many people must have put you down for you to think he was pranking you?

“This is going to be more difficult than I thought.”

Running his hand through his hair, Kei had to calm down for a moment and reevaluate. Did you reject him because you genuinely weren’t interest or because you were self-conscious? Probably the latter. So… should he try again? Fuck yeah. As if he was going to give up so easily. He just needed you to know he really wasn’t pranking you, the rest… was up to Future-Keigo.

Clearing his throat and taking his drink, he then walked over to your corner. Standing in front of you he was so  s m o l. It would probably feel great hugging you.

“Okay that was rough. Listen, I really don’t wanna prank you or anything. Just… get to know you… ya know?”, this time he genuinely smiled a little, hoping you wouldn’t just reject him again.

Raising one brow, you were still rather suspicious. AS IF someone like Keigo would want to get to know you. Something was not right, you could feel it in every fiber of your big, chubby body. Then again.. maybe the only thing that you felt was the insecurities that held you back from getting to know someone who might genuinely be interested in you.

So, you gave yourself a little push.

“Yeah… I guess… I’m not really used to…. You know, how about we just start over?”

Keigo thought he had finally cracked you, giving himself a mental high five for being persistent. Thus, with a small smile he nodded and reached out his hand.

“Sure, nice to meet you, I’m Takami Keigo.”

“I’m [Your.name], nice to meet you.”, you finally smiled a little as well. Oof, his heart just jumped. Why was he so smitten already? He literally just met you. Keigo definitely wanted to get to know you more.

“So, how about we go take a seat over there? I could do with another drink.”, he said while pointing in the direction of a free table.

For a moment, you hesitated, though after a few seconds, you nodded, “Yeah, sounds nice.”

-

Without realizing it, hours went by as you and Hawks sometimes were the loudest ones laughing. Your friends just glancing over every so often, obviously jealous you had gotten the most handsome men of all of them today. But for the first time, you didn’t care what other’s thought as you and Kei just had … a connection.

Hence why, when he glanced down to his watch and sighed, you felt a little sad.

“I wish this night wouldn’t end. But I have a model job tomorrow and I only was a backup for someone so I didn’t even intend to have so much fun today. Time sure flies with you, [Your.name].”, he gave you one of his best smiles that made your throat dry and your knees weak.

“I… really enjoyed myself, too. Thank you. And sorry for acting like that in the beginning.”, you smiled apologetically and a little flustered. He found it very endearing.

“That’s fine, don’t worry about it. Well…”, he then looked at his phone and stood up, “It’s 2 a.m. definitely missed the last train. I’m gonna make a quick call for a taxi.”

“Hm.”, you nodded and watched for a second as he went outside where it was a little quieter to call.

Looking between Hawks and your friends who were still partying with Keigo’s friend group, you wondered if you should bring him home. You were the driver, but… how often had your friends disappeared with someone without telling you? How often did you leave a party all by yourself? It was time to be a little selfish today.

So, you hastily stood up and walked outside the bar, watching as Keigo typed on his phone, ready to call.

“Uhm, Takami-san?”, you interrupted him.

“Hm?”, he was a little surprised.

“If you want.. I can drive you home. I brought my own car since I was planning on leaving earlier too and I only drank one cocktail right in the beginning and the rest was alcohol free stuff so… if you want?”, your voice became a little smaller by the end, not knowing if you were too eager. Was this okay?

“Really? That’s not a problem?”

“No! Not at all.”, you reassured him.

“That’s great! I only live like 20 minutes away if we take the car. Ahhh, you’re a life saver, [Your.name]! Thank you.”, Keigo beamed.

And so, you hopped into your car, the only place big enough for you, at least that’s what it felt like since you invested in a nice big one. Keigo was quite cute how he sat there in the big seat, being so small.

The drive to Hawks’ home was also filled with chatter and laughter, once again reassuring you both that you definitely had some sort of connection. And since he had been attracted to you before, it only gave him more reasons that he wanted to meet you again. Man… this could be the first time a group date turned out successfully – for the both of you!

When you parked in front of his apartment complex, Takami didn’t even want to go yet. Wishing that time would just stop, he sat there for a few seconds before turning to you.

“Thank you, [Your.name].”

“No problem, really!”

“You know, if it wasn’t that late I would have invited you to a coffee or another drink or something but alas…”

“It’s quite late…”, you almost said a little… saddened?

“Hm… It is… I’ll call you!” Hawks then said with a little bit of a grin, since you had exchanged phone numbers before.

“O-Okay.”, you didn’t know why you stuttered, it was just… really new.

“Oh, but you can call me too, yeah? Don’t be shy. Well, anyways.”, he jumped out of the car, turned one last time to grin at you, his golden eyes sparkling a little, making you even more flustered.

“Have a safe drive home and have a good night, [Your.name]!”

“Ah, you too, Takami-san!”

Then, you just watched as he walked up to his apartment complex. You didn’t know what suddenly got into you when you opened the door and jumped out, calling for him.

“Takami-san?!”, it was literally two in the morning, his poor neighbors.

Though Hawks immediately turned his head.

“I… really, really enjoyed myself today. Just… thank you.”

Oh my God, you were so cute. Such a gentle giant teddy bear, that’s what you were. Without thinking about it, Keigo rushed back, catching you a little off guard when he walked around the car.

“You know, I might be a little drunk, but fucking God – I want to kiss you SO. BAD. right now.”, Kei said without hold back. His golden eyes gleaming in the dark and his cheeks flushed, you didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol or if he was blushing.

You, on the other hand, were very flustered, yet you barely whispered, “Maybe you should…”

Which only made Hawks giggle and raise his arms. An almost… seductive grin on his lips.

“Then you should help me out a little here, Handsome!”

Was he a bit drunk? Possibly. Was he overly flirtatious because he truly liked your personality and found you attractive and DEFINITELY wanted to meet you again?... Probably. But someone as straight-forward as Hawks was exactly who you needed because of your tendencies to overthink everything. Especially when it came to your weight and thus attractiveness. (Even though the one didn’t have anything to do with the other though not when it came to society.)  

And so, you accommodated him by leaning down. Takami himself standing on his tiptoes, thus, after he had hoped all night long, his lips finally met yours. His small arms wrapped around your big, broad shoulders and your big hand was placed on his lower back. That’s what he had wanted. And it really happened. To say Keigo was quite euphoric was an understatement. He was ecstatic, overjoyed, jubilant and so much more – and that from a little kiss. He surely fell quick and hard. Something he had never experienced before.

After a few moments of pure delight, you were the first to pull back, just to watch Kei bite his lip in such a sexy way it took all of your control to not grab him and pin him onto your car’s hood.

“Thank you.”, he just whispered, still with that grin on his lips, “I really enjoyed myself, too.”

Then, he let go and you did as well, this time really just watching when he turned around and walked into the apartment complex with one last wave. So you got back into your car as well, the last minutes replaying in your head over and over again.

With your hand covering your face, you had to hide your stupid, big grin. If all of that was just a dream, you didn’t want to wake up. Someone found YOU attractive. You had deemed yourself the most unattractive, undatable guy and that only because society had always told you that. But he didn’t care. He liked your “undatable, unattractive” body just the way it was. And not only that, after a rough start, you got along so well. You loved his little laughs, his beautiful eyes and those soft lips-

“God I have never felt like that before, what the fuuuck??”, you mumbled to yourself, still in disbelief that night even happened.

But as you drove away, you heard a little noise that came from your phone and as you looked up, you quickly scanned the text before looking back onto the streets – a wide smirk spreading across your face.

The message read.

“txet me wehn yruoe home so i konw yuore hmoe safe!”

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@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

⇻ salem.talks: let’s appreciate all shapes and sizes. being a short and rather stumpy man myself, ive been struggling a little with how i view myself ever since my relationship ended. ive been casually looking on apps but i think I am not ready for another relationship yet since my last one was rather messy. anyways. I know you shouldn’t rely on others to feel validated and loved but loving yourself is hard, bro so… yeah, its nice being desired for once, no? also this kinda makes me wanna write a part two but eh we’ll see!

part 2.

[testudoaubrei-blog]

Let’s talk about tropes. I’ll be honest, I didn’t closely follow the ‘do you like these tropes in books’ discourse beyond seeing that there was some back and forth about it with some decent points on each side. But I didn’t see anything addressing some of the large questions about how we analyze narrative and how the tools we use affect what we perceive in the text. So let’s do that. One thing I know is that no matter what I post on Tumblr it won’t be as out there as that rant about Catra and Calvinism (which remains probably the most accurate reflection of what talking to me IRL is like, as @highladyluck can attest). But fuck it, let’s talk about The Owl House, Jane Austen, TV Tropes and how we perceive narratives.

So I watched the Owl House and I liked it. It’s a whimsical, fun and good-hearted show with an adorably sinister aesthetic and at its best, an undercurrent of melancholy that I really love. Like a lot of folks, I like Lumity. They’re 14 year olds, they are gay, they have a fun dynamic and they’re cute in a ‘oh those crazy kids’ kind of way that people my age feel about a lot of younger people but especially teenagers, who are self-conscious and adorable balls of Awkward (why yes, the character I most identify with is Eda, why do you ask?). But one thing that surprised me about Lumity actually watching the show is how little conflict their relationship has compared to what I’d been led to expect. I’d heard their relationship described as a kind of enemies-to-girlfriends deal. And so I was expecting something like Catradora, where they are on opposite sides of the show’s main conflict, if not literal opposite sides of a war and where nearly every emotion they feel toward each other is complicated and fraught with regret, pain and longing. And I suppose they are kind of on opposite sides of the shows main conflict in the Covention episode, but not exactly, and even then that dichotomy quickly breaks down. Even when they were fighting in that episode, they weren’t actually trying to hurt each other, and they make an uneasy truce by the end. Indeed, the whole arc of their relationship isn’t really enemies to girlfriends. It’s a lot more subtle than that. There’s an initial antipathy because of Luz feeling protective of Willow and Amity being a shit to her, but Amity’s first episode more importantly sets up their basic dynamic, where Luz thinks Amity is callous and Amity thinks that Luz is cheating the system or life itself in some ways (Amity is very much a Fairness Person, and is a pretty accurate depiction of the personality type and the flaws in Fairness Thinking*). But very quickly the show sets up a mutual fascination - curiosity in Luz’s case and sheer frustrated confusion in Amity’s. Even at its most tense, except for their very first episodes this dynamic already teases us with the prospect that Amity and Luz will become less confrontational, and over the course of season 1 that’s exactly what happens, until by Grom they are very much friends. Who also obviously have fumbling, 14 year old crushes on each other.

Really, when I saw Lumity I saw a fairly low-conflict and low drama relationship. Some of this is an artifact of season 1 of the Owl House wrapping up most of its emotional conflicts within each episode and at least tamping down any conflict between Amity and Luz (and indeed, between most characters), but more than that there isn’t a huge depth of negative emotion between them, and from very early on in their relationship it’s balanced out by their obvious mutual interest in each other.

But even now I wouldn’t necessarily know this from how fans characterize their earlier interactions. I definitely see ‘enemies to girlfriends’ bandied about in fandom circles, and in memes about Lumity, comparisons to other ships and stuff like that. It seems like there’s a lot of playing up of their early conflict. Some of this may be a tendency I’ve noticed in fandom to play up conflicts into something more than they are in the text (in the Owl House fanon way overemphasizes the disastrous and mean spirited behavior of Em and Ed in Lost in Languages into something more sinister). But I wonder if some of it is a different and deeper question of how we approach stories. Namely, does naming a trope and applying it to a story change the way we view the story? By citing Lumity as an instance of the ‘enemies to girlfriends’ or ‘enemies to lovers’ trope do we change the way we view the story? I think it does. And this points to a potential risk in thinking about stories in terms of tropes. Because the tool we use to describe something will affect not only what we can describe but what we can think and even perceive. Our language shapes our thoughts. Like any other language game, when we talk about fiction the limits of our language are the limits of our world. Put another way, the language of our analysis of narrative is a tool we use to think about it. Talking about narrative in terms of tropes is one tool we can use. However, if we apply a trope, we change our interpretation because we will look for that trope throughout the text. We may start to over-interpret the text to better match the trope that we are applying to understand it. Even if we don’t do that, we’re using the trope and its previous iterations to understand the text.

The technical humanities gradschool term for this is a ‘hermeneutic’ - basically an intellectual tool you use for interpreting something. The most common metaphor is that it is a ‘lens’ of interpretation. Like a lens it is a way of seeing things that changes the very thing that you see (like a lens can make something look bigger or smaller, or more or less clear, or distorted in various ways, or flattened etc) in your object of study. Every time you analyze something, you’re using a hermeneutic because you can’t say or perceive anything about your object of study without one. This means that you can’t get past your hermeneutics. There is no one true way to look at a text, because you always need to use a tool, a lens, to interpret it. And each tool you use will have limitations, biases, and unspoken assumptions that will affect your interpretation. A lot of critical thinking about texts (or history, or a lot of other things) is understanding the hermeneutics we are using when we study something. This is why a lot of humanities academic papers talk about methodology for like a chapter before they get to their object of study (similarly, scientific papers will need to talk about methodology and experimental design but that is often more quantitative).

So what kind of a hermeneutic is naming tropes? I think in the end its about looking for similarities between narratives in terms of plot, setting and characterization. Cataloguing tropes is us saying ‘this character in this story is like this other character in this other story in this particular way’. Thinking about it this way, the important point is how we are noting similarities, yes (so what we consider relevant for making a trope) but also what other stories we’re comparing it to. And this is where things get interesting. Because narratives all are products of their own culture and time. And while there are ways of reading texts that don’t take this into account and these have their uses (IE New Criticism, yes I still stan it for limited purposes, don’t # me), even then we’re left with stories that actually -say- very different things. So the question becomes, what happens when we start comparing stories that aren’t actually anything alike? The result, I would argue, is a far clearer case of The Potential Pitfalls of Tropes. So let’s talk about the classic story of courtship (no, I don’t call it a love story, we’ll get to that) that weirdly enough is the most like Lumity, Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.

One of the more common readings of Pride and Prejudice is that Darcy and Elizabeth bicker and snipe at each other a lot, which is a sign that they are Into Each Other, or that they start off with a passionate antipathy and this conceals a passionate love. In a Vox article I saw it used as an example of the enemies to lovers/rivals to lovers trope. The problem is, this doesn’t actually happen in the novel. In the novel, they meet at a ball, Elizabeth thinks Darcy is hot but then he’s an awkward weirdo in a way that comes across as aloof, Elizabeth quietly writes him off and tries not to bother with him (mostly think 'this fucking guy') until receiving the world’s worst marriage proposal. There is some sniping, almost all of it one-sided, unless you count this and Darcy’s awkward and arrogant fumbling as bicker-banter, which you shouldn’t. The situation isn’t resolved until toward the end when Elizabeth gradually gets to see Darcy in his own environment, where he is gracious, kind and yeah, thinks highly of himself but have you -seen- Pemberly? Elizabeth does change her mind about Darcy, but she’s not giving voice to the attraction that was always concealed by bickering or the passionate love that was masquerading as disdain. Instead, she very rationally confronts her preconceptions, finds that they have misled her, and changes her opinion based on new evidence. Then she decides that marrying a rich, hot guy whose assholery mostly compliments her own (she’s a jerk, y’all, so is he, it’s a match made in heaven) is her best chance at maximizing her happiness in a patriarchal society where her future is entirely determined by who she marries, so she accepts his next, less awkward proposal. They live happily ever after. I have joked that it’s basically a love story written by a Scottish Enlightenment philosopher and it’s certainly one of the most anti-romantic and yet weirdly sweet love stories that people still read. So yeah, Elizabeth Bennet, aromantic icon? Maybe! Anyway.

Like I mentioned, common readings (which shape a lot of adaptations as well as modern Janeite fandom) interpret meaning into the text where there arguably isn’t any (an unspoken attraction in Elizabeth’s annoyance at That Fucking Guy) as well as playing up other aspects of the text (Elizabeth’s mostly fleeting attraction to Whickam, which in the novel is mostly ‘this guy is kind of fun and also handsome’). They also ignore clear meanings that don’t fit into the reading - the conclusion of the novel, and its very title, explain the story as a pretty intellectual account of Darcy’s Pride and Elizabeth’s prejudice getting in the way of achieving a happy match. But the bigger problem is by casting this story as one of simmering passion and smouldering sexual tension, common interpretations undercut the actual philosophy of the novel, which is that our passions and preconceptions are dumb and that martial and sexual happiness can be achieved through some calculus that accounts for hotness, strength of character and income in thousands of pounds per year. The problems of Pride and Prejudice are emotional, but they’re also intellectual, and they’re overcome by the characters understanding other people more rationally and with fewer inaccurate preconceptions. Mind you, Austen throws all this romantic rationalism out the fucking window in Persuasion, which is about what happens when you do the smart thing and it makes you fucking miserable, but this is because Jane Austen is the fucking best.

So where does the common reading come from? I thin that, even if it doesn’t name a trope (as it does in the vox article), it comes from comparing the points of Pride and Prejudice’s story to tropes in more familiar media, namely modern (1930s and later) romantic comedies. In romantic comedies from the 30s on bickering has been a form of flirting (it’s in like, all the Fred and Ginger movies, I think?) and antipathy is often a mask for sexual attraction. This is a narrative coding that is understood in modern movies, to the point where superhero flick and modern rom coms will use it as a replacement for actual affection or attraction. But if we apply this narrative convention anachronistically to our understanding of a 200 year old novel that predates some of our very assumptions about the nature of romantic love and the nature of romantic relationships, then the result makes us -think- we’re relating to this older text, but really we’re not understanding what we’re reading. Rather than encountering Jane Austen’s strange and wonderful and thought provoking world, we’re reducing it to the conventions of a story that we have read a thousand times before. Sometimes, we are distorting the text and it's meaning because we are trying to understand it in the terms of what is familiar to us. And that’s sad.

This points to a more general problem with understanding narratives in terms of tropes - listing tropes is a list of supposed similarities, but stories are not interesting because of the way in which they are the same as other stories. They are interesting because of the ways in which they are different from every other story. Every story is itself. Every story has unique characters, themes, plot points, dialog, descriptive tools, style etc. Stories from other times and other cultures can be strange and confusing and challenge our assumptions about a lot of things, including what it even means to be human, and that’s why they are awesome. And I think there is incredible value if our first impulse is not to try to see how this story is -like- other stories, but instead to see how it is purely -itself-. What is it saying to us? Who are these characters? What does the way this story is told tell us? What does this story (not other stories, this one) mean to us? TL/DR Joseph Campbell was a fucking hack, more on that in a future rant.

So as you may have noticed, if there are lumpers and there are splitters (a distinction that comes from taxonomy in biology - do you lump species together or split them apart), then call me a splitter. Similarities can be useful, but the similarities between things can never tell us what makes something itself, because what makes something itself is the thing or things or combination of things that it doesn’t share with anything else. And so I encourage everyone to first ask yourself what a story is saying in itself, as itself, before you compare it to anything else, be that through a TV Tropes trope list or anything else. Yes, this is an approach that will also require its own hermeneutics, and no, it will never be definitive. There is always more to be said. Indeed, after I think about how a work is uniquely itself I do like comparing it to other works. But I Think this can often be the perspective that most allows works to speak for themselves.

*Where fairness is defined as ‘everyone should play by the same rules’ 

[kithtaehyung]

Room 3 | PJM

summary: it’s just another normal day for you at the wellness center until it suddenly isn’t.  note: standalone for now! part 2 is semi-written but no solid plans atm. note 2 (june 7th, 2021): this will be revamped in the future! i really enjoyed this premise so i won’t get rid of it completely.  pairing: idol!jimin x massage therapist!reader  genre: fluff  word count: 9,188

-

-

Thirteen. 

The sidewalk underneath your feet has thirteen cracks in the little square you stand in.  Sliding a small rock into one of them provides you with something to do until you hear the squeaking, screeching brakes of a bus struggling to a stop in front of you.  

You adjust the strap on your shoulder as the doors open with a hydraulic hiss, and you give the driver a small smile before finding a place to stand.  There aren’t many people commuting today, so it’s a pleasant surprise that you get to sit down for a change. 

It was just another day in your life.  You got up this morning and did your routine, listened to your wake up music on repeat, and checked that you had your wallet, phone, keys, and earphones before heading down to the bus stop.  The very same earphones are still on as you now have your library on shuffle, and you hum along to the “na na na’s” of the current tune. 

Living in Seoul for about a year now, you were pretty settled in.  The people were accommodating, the quality of life was much better than where you were before, and you felt like you could live here for the rest of your days.  It was insanely tough at first, but the initial culture shock and feeling of loneliness lessened as you made friends and befriended coworkers.  You don’t have many people close to you here, but you can count on the ones that are.  

You turn your head to gaze out the windows.  Shimmering glass buildings tower over you, shops and street signs whiz by, and people look like they’re walking in slow motion as you follow them with your eyes.  Blips of pastels and bold colors mingle together and you look down to observe your own monochrome uniform.  For the place you worked at, you didn’t expect the clothes to look luxurious, but they’re actually designed very well.  And they’re soft.  

That’s enough for you.    

Your stop is next, so you hook your arm around the nearest pole to prep.  The steel has a coldness that seeps into your sleeve, but your only thought is wondering what you should eat for lunch.  

-

Why do you feel so tense? 

The sign right above you emits a sense of relaxation, but there’s a tightness in your shoulders.  Odd.  You lock your phone with one hand and grip the strap of your pack with the other before taking a deep breath.  You count down from three before letting it out.  

The hiss of your exhale mingles with the standard sounds of the city, and you concentrate on the flow of life both inside your body and the environment around you.  You did this often when you felt out of place, and it served to recalibrate you and your thoughts.  Storing your phone away, you make your way inside the frosted glass doors. 

Working at one of Seoul’s prestigious wellness centers was definitely something you were proud of.  If there was one thing you’ve wanted for years, it was for a way for you to massage yourself.  Everyone seemed to love your massages, but no one knew how to massage you.  That is, until you came here.  You’ve never experienced people knowing exactly where you were hurting and effectively working out all of those kinks during one session.  It was magical.   

What is even more magical is the fact that you joined the ranks of those same angels from above.  You love them, and they love you.

“Good morning! I hate you!” 

Well.

“Morning, Yoon,” you respond lowly as you take your earphones out and store them. “Love you, too.” As you walk around front reception, Yoon smiles at you and comments, 

“No, really, I think you legitimately repulse me now.”

You shoot her a look of pure terror. “What the hell did I do?”

“Nothing,” she sighs, dropping her eyes to the papers in front of her.  

In a state of panic, your mind speeds through any events that happened since the last time you saw her.  Did you accidentally ignore her once?  Look at her funny?  Yoon was big on body language. 

You didn’t realize you were still staring at her until she tapped the glass counter between you two.  “Hey, I’m sorry. I know you’re nervous. I just thought jokes would help.” 

What? 

“I’m not nervous, just tense for some reason.  Although, you definitely made it worse,” you admit, “I might need to take a longer break today and somehow get Jay to rub my shoulders.  Maybe I can bribe him with samgy--” 

“--Uhh, forget him; have you even checked your client list for this week?  I’ll do anything if you switch your schedule with me.” 

Double-what?

“Okay, now you’re just being weird,” you chuckle, “But also, no, I haven’t checked yet.  It’s Monday!”   

In a sing-song manner, Yoon warns, “You better check your schedule before I snatch it...”

You laugh again and wave her off, but her words only mess with your head.  As you make your way to the back room, you fidget and check your phone for any notifications you missed between when you exited the bus and now.  You don’t know what you expected: still nothing.  

As if you feel the weight of eyes on you, you glance up and notice some people are giving you looks.  

What in the hell is going on?  It’s 7am on a Monday and therefore way too early for people to be this upset with you.  Yoon may have said she was joking, but by the looks of everyone else...

A hand claps onto your shoulder, causing you to yelp and feel like you rocket right into the ceiling.  Only the hearty laugh beside you clues you in on who you were getting revenge on later. 

“Geez, someone’s not looking forward to today.” 

“You better sleep with one eye open tonight, Jay,” you seeth, hands rubbing your temples as you struggle to steady your heart rate. “Also, what’s so special about today?  Yoon was being strange just a second ago, too.”  

Your coworker looks at you like you have seven heads. “Okay, first off: if I had the amount of adrenaline in your body right now, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at all.  And second: you didn’t check your schedule yet?” 

They didn’t know it, but they were going to be the death of you. 

“No, I ha--It’s a Mon--you know what, I’m going to check now; you guys are killing me.” You leave Jay in a rush and race to the employee lounge.  The anxiousness in your chest is bubbling over.  

Jay’s on your heels, whispering loudly, “I can spoil it right now if you want!” 

You respond in a low voice, “Don’t you have a client to see?” 

“Nope!” 

You round the corner and see the back room door is already open, so you power through and head straight for the docking table on the other side.  Everyone working here has a personal tablet, and you unplug yours from the charging port.  Pressing through the menus as quickly as the tablet allows, you feel a thin layer of sweat on your skin.  Touch ID.  Login.  Main Menu.  Scheduling.  Weekly Outlook.  Confidentiality Prompt.

Shit. 

Confidentiality Prompts are for the therapists that have huge clients scheduled.  They’re put in place for celebrities and business executives to have guaranteed privacy.  

With a start, you wonder why the hell Yoon wanted your schedule.  Everyone here is wary of high-profile people.  It’s a whole different experience since they basically hold your life in their hands in each session.  You recall a horror story that happened when you first started working there, and still don’t know where that employee ended up.  

Your only problem is that you’ve never had to deal with this before.  Jay, Yoon, and a bunch of the veterans have, but this is going to be your first. 

“Damn, yours is longer than mine was,” Jay observes before you squeeze your tablet to your chest.  “That looks intense.” 

“Umm, snoopy much?” You shift your body away from him and speed read through the very long, very wordy window.  When you hit Accept, another window pops up that you have to read through.  This one is even more fine print. You suddenly realize something and dart your eyes up.  “Wait, you got one, too?” 

Jay nods and looks away, and he actually looks nervous.  “Yeah, we all got them this time.” 

Now that is alarming.  This client must be something else. 

Window after window comes up and you wonder if you should probably read these in earnest.  It’s starting to genuinely scare you.  

If this is that big of a deal… 

You banish that thought from your mind as soon as it appears.  Elephants would have to fall from the sky before you believe someone from that group is booking you here.   

You hit Accept before you realize you didn’t actually read and instead mindlessly scrolled through the prompts.  As the screen buffers, you bite your lip.

The screen goes back to normal and presents your schedule for today.  Your coworkers are living their normal lives, putting their stuff in their lockers and getting materials ready for various sessions.  Jay is being completely normal as he can’t stop laughing at your expression.  

And your life is anything but normal anymore because elephants are dropping from the clouds and the words Monday, 8am, Park Jimin are staring you right in the face. 

-

“You mean to tell me that you cleared your morning schedule just to see my reaction?” 

Jay laughs in earnest. “Yes, and it was so worth it.” 

You are failing to stop bouncing your leg as you wait at one of the tables in the employee lounge.  There’s a cup of coffee in front of you, but you already know you aren’t going to drink a drop of it.  You are about to be in close quarters with the equivalent of a royal family member, so coffee breath is out of the question. 

Suddenly self-conscious, you ask, “Do you have a toothbrush I can borrow?” 

“I actually do.  Let me grab it.” 

As your friend gets up, you scrutinize the table in front of you to avoid peoples’ lingering stares.  How everyone somehow knew your upcoming client before you did was a mystery, but you don’t really care enough at the moment to find out.   

Jay hands you what you asked for and you thank him before heading to the bathroom to freshen up.  After you brush your teeth like a madman, you check your face for discrepancies and sigh at your choice of almost no makeup today.  

You can’t help but wonder if the thirteen cracks in the sidewalk are laughing at you at this very moment.  

Checking your smart watch, you realize you have either the longest or shortest 30 minutes of your life left before your appointment with Jimin.  

You huff out a laugh at how ridiculous that sounds.  You refuse to believe this is real until you physically see him in the room.  Confidentiality forms or not, the name Park Jimin or not, you still can’t wrap your head around the situation. 

Speaking of the forms, you assume that they were printed out for company records as soon as you submitted yours to sign.  You decide to head back to the front desk after throwing Jay his spare toothbrush, to which he responds with pure disgust. 

-

It was like Yoon was waiting for you because as soon as you open the glass doors, she’s  hounding you, “So what did you do in a past life?  Did you save an emperor?  Rescue a prophet?” 

“I don’t know about a past life, but I did save a turtle when I was five.”  You tap your fingers on the reception desk and stare at the orchids on the counter.  “Or at least I thought I did.  I probably just made his life harder.  Can I see a copy of the forms I signed?” 

“I’m gonna go with the saved prophet.  Which one was it?” 

“Yoon,” you beg, desperate as you glance at the abstract clock above her and see that you have 20 minutes left.  A mere 20 minutes until he is supposed to arrive to check-in.

“Okay, okay!  Hold on,” she chuckles and rolls her chair away from you and towards the printer.  “By the way, if I wasn’t the one checking him in, I would’ve hijacked your entire day already.”  

Her words are garbled since you are laser-focused on rubbing an orchid petal between your fingers.  Its soft and supple touch is calming you, and just for a second, you are able to clear your thoughts.  

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when Yoon hands you the forms.  The paper is still warm as you thank her and head towards the doors. 

“Oh, wait,” Yoon calls behind you, and you turn to see her grabbing another small stack of papers.  When she extends them over the counter, she explains, “I was waiting until you saw your schedule to hand these over.  Read through them carefully.”

“Thanks,” you whisper, even more anxious than before. 

-

Your heart jumps into your throat when you see what Yoon handed over.  You don’t even remember the walk to the back lounge and to one of the secluded tables; all you can focus on are the papers in front of you.  They look like they were written on and scanned before being sent over to the wellness center.   

It’s Jimin’s handwriting.  

You’ve seen his penmanship before.  There is no mistaking the neat, determined strokes.  Even the way he checked the boxes and circled the pain points on diagrams proves very... well, him.  Any other uncertainty dissolves after you see his birthday filled in, as well.  

This is really happening.

You gently slam the papers on the table and hunch over to commit the information to memory.  Months and months of schooling have sharpened this ability of yours, and you are determined to imagine this as just another client you have to memorize.  

Light to medium pressure.  Avoid anything above light pressure around the spinal area and lower back.  Shoulders, calves, and feet are pain points.  Facial area priority.   

A trip to the countryside right at this very moment sounds like a fantastic idea.  

Jay plops into the seat in front of you, and that thought bubble bursts.  “This color on your face suits you.  Reminds me of what’s-his-name, Edward.” 

“How much time do I have,” you question, not even acknowledging him.  

“Seven minutes.” 

“Of course,” you mutter before standing, the irony not lost on you.  “I’ll go prep now.” 

You don’t see Jay waving you off.  “If you survive, I’ll see you on the other side!” 

A laugh escapes you.  Personally, your only goal is to make it through five minutes.  If you pass away after that, you would have no regrets. 

-

You stand behind the reception doors with your tablet to your chest, staring at the wall across the way.  The subtle wallpaper pattern is a great choice for this place, you decide. 

Indescribable anxiousness and fear aside, you have a job to do.  As long as you keep your outside actions professional, your inner turmoil can be whatever the hell it wants.  You’ve been in this profession long enough and you know you’re ready to do this.  You’ve seen the whole spectrum of human emotion in this line of work.  No matter how well of a job you do, there are still people that are never happy.  As long as you focus on keeping the client’s wellness and health in mind, you keep your consciousness clear.   

Then again, you haven’t had to deal with a client like Park Jimin before, let alone a high executive or well-known actress.  

A muffled “Good morning and welcome” reaches your ears and you push yourself off the wall.  The frosted glass only allows you to see so much, but you can make out a few guys standing in the front area.  Two are taller and only wearing dark clothes, and the other is a bit shorter.  The latter is looking to be wearing a beanie, light colored top, and dark pants.

You can’t hear anyone talking other than Yoon, but suddenly the shorter one makes his way to your doors.  

It’s him.  You’re absolutely sure. 

Steeling your resolve, you pull your side open.  With a smile, you look straight at your client’s sunglasses-and-mask-clad face and greet him just like you would anyone else, “Good morning and welcome.  Am I speaking to Mr. Park?”

He stills for a second before he nods. 

“Nice to meet you.  We’ll be in Room 3.”

-

Jimin bows to you slightly and whispers a thank you, and you follow him to your room.  Your heart is rattling nonstop as you note the height difference between the two of you.  It isn’t as bad as you thought it was.  

The door to Room 3 is already open, and when Jimin enters you stop at the entrance.  

You lied earlier.  None of this feels real.  He’s physically in the room, and you still don’t think this is happening.

You let Jimin put his bag down on the corner chair before gliding into the formal greeting, “Since this is our first session, please let me know if there’s anything you need.  I did go over your forms, but if there was something that wasn’t specified, feel free to ask.  I want to make sure all of your needs are met today.” 

“Your name?” 

You falter. “What?”  Did he just... 

Jimin takes off his sunglasses, and you feel all oxygen leave your body.  He’s still wearing a mask, but you can see that his eyes are creased just a tad.  “It wasn’t specified on the forms.  Your name?” 

A part of you just chalks this up to being standard Jimin behavior, but the other part of you wonders if he really didn’t know whom he was getting a massage from.  Did Yoon not tell him?  Check-in is supposed to confirm your specialist. 

You also note that his voice is infinitely softer in person.  TV and recordings did not do this man justice.  

Keeping it professional is all you must do.  You tell him your name, apologizing for not introducing yourself already.  It’s also on your tablet, so you show him while you talk. 

Jimin leans forward to read it and smiles again. “Ah.  Pretty.” 

Are your five minutes up?  Can you pass away now?  He’s a mere six feet away from you but it feels like his presence is engulfing you. 

All that escapes you is a tiny thank you.  “So, mhm,” you clear your throat and yell at yourself to get it together, “Go ahead and undress down to your comfort level and lie down on the bed with the sheet on top of you.  That remote there is connected to my tablet, so just take it off the charger and bring it to the bed. You can press the green button whenever you’re ready.” 

Jimin looks towards the console table next to him and sees the white remote.  It’s docked in a sleek charging port and stands out against the light wood.  He nods, and you give him one last smile before reaching out and closing the door.

-

The only words your brain can process at the moment are not work appropriate, so you just go on autopilot to the employee lounge.  You expected Jay or even Yoon to be chomping at your heels as soon as you left Jimin by himself, but neither of them are around.  That was completely fine: employees aren’t allowed to divulge anything that goes on in client sessions unless it’s dangerous to either of you. 

You help yourself to a cup of water and down it before pouring another.  The fruit flavor for today is strawberry, and you watch the fruit and ice swirl around as you stir the big glass container.  There are pastries and assorted breakfast foods calling your name in the clear cabinet next to you, but you refuse.  Your adrenaline is hindering your appetite.  

People are still giving you daggers for stares, but after seeing Jimin in person you really can’t blame them.  Even when you couldn’t even see his face, you felt his presence.  His aura filled up that entire room and he only spoke around ten words.  It would be a lie to say that you aren’t intimidated.  You can already count the number of times you almost bolted out of the room on two hands.  But you made yourself proud: as long as you keep your outer actions calm, you can get through this.  Your voice was fairly level for someone whose heart was bouncing out of their ribcage.  In the end, you want to make him feel comfortable and safe.  Emotions cannot exist right now.

Self-deprecation comes into play as you wonder if this is a huge mistake and if Jimin is already out the door to find a better therapist.  

Oh, well.  At least he said your name was pretty. 

Your doubts are casted aside as your tablet dings.  

Jimin’s ready for you. 

-

When you enter the room, you can see that your client followed your instructions completely.  You glance at the corner chair and see that he even folded his clothes and set his jewelry neatly on the thin, long table.  Since Jimin can’t see you from his position, you allow a warm smile to grace your features.  

You close the door as softly as you can.  The way the room is designed, the clients lie down so that their head is opposite the doorway.  It takes you a few steps until you reach the head of the bed.  You gingerly take the remote from where Jimin placed it next to his neck and turn around to redock it, and start to dim the lights with your tablet.  Per standard, you ask, “Mr. Park, is this okay, or would you like the lights lower?” 

His voice is projecting straight towards the floor, but it still sounds so light, “This is good, but please, call me Jimin.”  

That’s definitely not what you expected, but you are touched.  You nod before realizing that he still can’t see you.  “Do you have a music preference for today?”

“Whatever you prefer is fine.”  

Jimin is being so agreeable that your nerves start to dissipate.  You were expecting him to at least be a little particular at some things, but he is being really easy to work with.  The atmosphere starts to feel safe enough for you to joke, “Well, it does depend on my mood, so for now I’ll play Standard Spa Chord Progression, No. 5 instead of No. 3.” 

The small chuckle you hear melts your heart.  “Ah, is that the one with the harp?” 

“No, that’s Spa Concerto, No. 4. We don’t have that one in our library, but I think it’s terrible anyways.” 

Jimin’s head lifts from the table in an earnest laugh, and you can’t help but laugh with him.  It’s infectious.  

You select a random song on your tablet, and you weren’t lying when you said it was standard.  The song is less of a song and more like a bunch of reverberating chords in slow succession.  That’s one thing you noticed about this place: modern tech but very outdated music.  Get with the times!  At least have some nice piano covers to choose from. 

“Not having Spa Concerto, No. 4 may be a deal-breaker for me,” Jimin comments, a hint of a smile in his voice.  

You’re still tapping on your tablet to get to his file, and you make your way back to the door.  There’s a clear slot on each room’s door to hold employee tablets, and as soon as you store yours, you can finally start.  “I don’t blame you, even though I think it’s awful, that one still topped the char--Oh, shit!”   

You aren’t watching where you’re going, so you don’t see the shoes in your path.  It’s so dim in the room and his shoes match the floor color but none of that matters because right now you are falling and you are falling fast.  Your first instinct is to grab the table, but that would risk pulling the blanket off of Jimin and you would rather die than do that to him. 

So, floor it is.

Your hand not holding the tablet breaks some of the fall, but your face definitely makes contact with the ground.  You can feel the slight burn on your nose and hand, and a sharp lingering pain follows.  

Okay, now can you pass away.  Someone from the heavens can come claim you now.    

Drowning in shame, you don’t help yourself off the floor right away.  Not only were you breaking your rule and joking around, you also weren’t paying attention and now possibly ruined Park Jimin’s shoes.  

You’ll look up good resigning practices later tonight.  You have enough money saved up to make it a couple months without a job, you reckon.  

When you finally lift yourself off the floor, you turn around and see Jimin pushed up on the table.  His whole upper body is bare and twisted towards you, and this is the first time you see his entire face.  It’s more beautiful in person, you conclude, even though it conveys nothing but concern right now.  “Are you okay?” 

You nod furiously and stand up completely. Your voice is shaky as you apologize, “I am so sorry.  One moment.” Before checking yourself, you check your personal tablet.  To say it was worth more than you isn’t that far of a reach.  No scratches, though. Praise be.

“Don’t apologize… Did you trip on my shoes?”

Embarrassment washes over you as you nod, not looking at Jimin.  Placing your tablet gingerly on the console table, you dust your uniform down and inspect your hands and feel your nose.  Luckily, there’s no blood, only slight rug burns.  If there was blood, you would have to postpone the appointment until you effectively sanitized.  With what you have, you just need to go wash up.  

Jimin is still watching you intently, which makes your face burn even more.  What a mess.  He’s probably second-guessing this whole thing.  

You bow, feeling tears at the corners of your eyes.  “Mr. Park, I am so sorry.” 

“Jimin.” 

“I’ll just need to clean my hands and then I promise we will start as soon as I get back.  I know your time is valuable so I’ll make up for the minutes we lost.” 

“I… Okay.  Thank you.” 

You make your way out of the room, still courteous enough to shut the door quietly.  Rushing to the nearest sink, a small sob leaves your throat as you wring your hands under the water.  Life is kind to you at this moment because no one is around.  You would never live it down if someone saw you coming out of Jimin’s room crying.  

After splashing water on your face and drying it, you take out a cotton pad from one of the glass containers on the counter.  You press it onto your eyes, decreasing the evidence of your current state.  

So much for making Jimin feel safe and comfortable.  You’ve only made it awkward.   

-

With a deep breath, you enter the room.  

Jimin turns his head and puts it in the crook of his arm to look back at you.  “Are you sure you’re okay?  I’m sorry I couldn’t help you…”  

You go over to his shoes and move them under the chair, wincing when you see visible tears on them.  Guess you’re withdrawing a chunk of your savings to pay Park Jimin for damages.  

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you state firmly, but soften, “But I’m really sorry about the shoes; I may have torn them.  I can pay you back.” 

You hear sheets shuffling, and when you face him, Jimin’s fully on one elbow and turned towards you.  “No, please, don’t worry about those.  I should’ve put them out of the way.  I feel bad.”   

“It’s definitely my fault,” you countered, “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Jimin uses your name, which stops you in your tracks.  “Everything’s okay, I promise.”

You should feel many different things, like pride in getting to see this man in person, or happiness from him actually addressing you by name.  But all you can think about in this moment is how disappointing you’ve been to another human being, and you sigh.  

You nod, but still plan to pay him back.  You know enough about designer brands to know those aren’t cheap, and they’re shoes you’ve seen him wearing a lot in photos.  

“It’s okay to lie back down,” you say softly, unmoving.  

Jimin searches your face one more time before settling back face-down on the table.  

It’s a normal day at work, you tell yourself.  Go through your routine.  

Launching yourself into action, you move to the far end of the console table.  Grabbing a bottle you’ve clutched so many times before that its label is wearing down, you uncap it and oil your hands and wrists.  You also unstopper a bottle of lavender oil and pour a few drops into the nearby bamboo diffuser and start it.  

You make your way to the head of the table and grab a rolling stool from a corner of the room.  The wheels on your chair don’t make any noise, which you fixed up yourself.  This day isn’t any different - it’s still silently gliding on the carpet.  Plopping your devastated self onto the cushion, you scoot towards Jimin’s head.  You’re about to place your hands onto his bare shoulders to start, but you whisper,

“It’s also okay if you want to cancel and reschedule with someone else, Mister--Um, Jimin.” 

You can’t believe you just gave Park Jimin a way out of a whole 60 minutes with you.  Where did this conviction and restraint come from?  Is this going to be the regret of your entire lifetime? 

After a long silence, Jimin answers with his face in the headrest, “If you call me Mister Jimin again, then I will.”

You huff out a laugh at his unexpected answer, and your shoulders finally relax.  It seems like he’s still fine after everything that’s happened, and you thank any deity you can think of for this second chance.  

-

Light to medium pressure.  Avoid anything above light pressure around the spinal area and lower back.  Shoulders, calves, and feet are pain points.  Facial area priority. 

You aren’t a fan of light pressure, but you understand why people prefer it.  Not everyone can handle the deep tissue or harder pressure massages. 

Jimin’s shoulders are incredibly tense, though, so you feel bad that you’re limited in what you can do.  You allow some medium pressure to the worst spots, and when you approach the insides of his shoulder blades you lessen the intensity.  

Gliding your fingers back to the ridge between his neck and shoulders, you feel that his right is still tight.  You use your left elbow to work that knot, careful to press even lighter than you would with your hands. 

Jimin grunts, and you still. “Is that too much?”

“No, I like that.”

You keep that in mind as your hands travel over the rest of his upper back area.  From time to time, you reapply the oil to allow for less friction.  It lets your fingers slide deftly across muscles and quickly work any troublesome areas, which Jimin has a lot of.

It makes sense: you can’t even imagine the amount of pressure all of the boys were constantly dealing with.  There was a lull in their activity recently, so you knew something was in the works.  Between recording songs, shooting music videos, fulfilling their brand contracts, and whatever else they do, you’re surprised you don’t feel more knots under Jimin’s skin. 

The soft chords of the next song float around the room, and you lose yourself in your movements.  You can’t see his face, which makes it a lot easier.  You worked through his whole upper body, neck, and upper arms area so naturally that you were admiring his wrist tattoo before remembering who you were massaging.    

For the seven hundredth time that day, you cannot believe this is happening.  You really hope Jimin does feel safe here despite your whirlwind of thoughts.  Have you kept it professional enough?  Neutral enough?  He seemed to be fine with your joking earlier, and he didn’t seem upset about the shoes in the least.  

But still… Maybe he was just tolerating you because it’s the same situation for him, different place and day.  Putting yourself in his shoes, you would feel pity for you trying your best to accommodate him.  The pressure over everyone everywhere you go had to be exhausting.  It couldn’t ever be normal.  

Your shoulders suddenly slump under the weight of what you feel for him.  

And Jimin seems to notice.  “Really, it’s okay about the shoes.  Those were getting pretty worn anyways.” 

You still.  Of course he thought you were still fussing over the shoes and not over his life.  His unending consideration was like a burning hearth: it made you feel so warm.

“Okay,” you respond softly, “I understand.” 

“Good.  If you worry about them again, I’m walking out barefoot,” Jimin says sternly, even though you know he’s kidding.  “And don’t test me, I’ve done it before.” 

Your words leave you before you think.  “I don’t believe you.” 

“Oh?” 

Jimin puts his hands on the table and you yelp, “Okay, okay, stop!” 

He laughs and plops his arms back down flat.  You lament as you still can see how his muscles bulge in your mind.  

You shake your head and sigh before rolling to his left and softly taking his arm.  His skin is so soft you don’t even need the oil, you notice.  You work his forearm before moving down to his wrist and fingers.  Thinking about Jimin’s threat, you are pretty curious.  “Be honest: did that really happen?” 

“It didn’t,” he responds immediately, “But I thought about it once.  My shoes were killing my feet so I thought about walking without them until I found a shoe store.” 

It sounds so childish to you that you chuckle.  “Where was this,” you ask, completely intrigued now.

“Ah, I honestly can’t remember.  I think somewhere in Europe.”

“...Did you just pick an entire continent because you couldn’t remember?”

“...There’s seven continents and one of them is Antarctica!  Picking one out of six is easy.”

This man is something else. You finally finish off his right side, and you gingerly set his arm down on the table.  With a mental pat on the back, you get ready for the next part of the routine.  In your softest therapist voice, you instruct, “Okay, go ahead and turn over and slide down until your head is on the table.”

Jimin obeys right away, shifting over and moving down.  The white sheet slips down his body a bit, and you diligently pull it up until it’s covering everything up to his neck.  During this, you feel rather than see his eyes on you, so you don’t dare yourself to look. 

You go back to your plethora of containers to re-oil, and roll your chair to the foot of the table. All that time, Jimin thankfully has his eyes closed. 

You were equal parts dreading and looking forward to this part of the massage since his face was going to be visible.  This way, you can’t escape the reality of the situation.  

But you decided to follow the flow of the conversation.  You learned the subtle nuances of human communication throughout your experiences: when people wanted to talk or stay quiet, if they were liking the conversation or not, etc. Jimin seems to be fine with talking despite your assumption that he was going to be quiet for the most part.  It has definitely made this easier for you, though. 

“I want to visit all seven continents one day,” you decide to admit. 

“I do, too,” Jimin responds, eyes still closed. “How many do you have left?”

You start on his feet, working along the smooth skin. 

“Uhh, well,” you whisper, “A good chunk. I’ve only been here and back where I’m from, and I just moved here around a year ago.”

After you tell Jimin where you were before, he sounds amazed, “You seem like you’ve lived here for so long. I wouldn’t have guessed.”

He’s definitely being nice.  You are just now getting decent at the language and customs, but there is still a lot you have to learn.

“But, I do want to start traveling again for a specific reason,” you divulge, sighing to yourself as you think yet again about your lofty dreams.

“Which reason is that,” Jimin asks, and you somehow know his eyes are open now. 

Your own eyes betray you as you connect your gaze with his. “I want to experience different techniques in person.” You don’t know he can feel the fire behind your eyes. “There’s no better teacher than experience, at least to me. I know I’m good at what I do currently, but there’s so much out there that I want to learn and get better at.”

You debate whether to keep going or not.  Jimin’s eyes are alight with curiosity, so you take that as your cue. It’s surreal that you get to talk about your dream with him of all people, so you strive to make it count. “Take music, for example: everyone agrees that music is healing, therapeutic.  But, there’s so many genres, so many ways to create it.  I see massage as the same way: therapeutic, but many different ways to make people feel better.” 

Jimin is silent as he tears his gaze from you to look at the ceiling. You concentrate on his ankles, working them as delicately but effectively as you can.  A part of you wants to keep talking, but you don’t want to push it. You may have said too much as it is.

The next song has soft chimes to accompany the rippling chords.  Lavender wafts through the air and quells your nerves.  You continue to Jimin’s lower legs and glide your fingers along the flow of his muscles.  When you feel a break or disturbance, you stop and tend to it until you feel it’s balanced.  After his lower legs are done, you move on to his thighs.  You feel tightness all over, and you apply medium pressure to these areas because of how much muscle they contain.  

Jimin’s legs are a work of art on the outside, but so chaotic on the inside.  The chakra highways are disjointed, and you have worked through so many kinks in the roads.  If you imagine yourself as someone walking down a path, you are stopping every 10 steps to smooth over a pothole or breakdown a hill in the way.  You can’t see how this person can even walk, let alone perform on stage like this.  All of them never cease to amaze you.   

“Where would you start?”

Jimin’s sudden inquiry throws you.  You swear he was silent for a good ten minutes.  “What?” 

His eyes are glued to the ceiling still.  “Which places do you want to visit?  Like, where would you go to learn?” 

“Well…”  You are almost too stunned to speak.  He has been thinking about what you said this whole time?  Aren’t there plenty of more important things he needs to be thinking about right now?  “There’s this technique called amma that originates in Japan, and there’s an American technique called esalen that I want to learn, too.  I think that one is from California.”  

On a high from Park Jimin’s interest in your life, you ramble about a few more, your voice getting more animated the more you talk about different things.  It can’t be helped; you’ve been passionate about traveling and learning for so long.  You’ve just never been able to really try it since money was part of the equation.  Or more so out of the equation.  In addition, you didn’t really get to talk about it with anybody.  No one’s actually asked.  But somehow, Jimin did.  

When you realize you actually stopped massaging his thigh, you look up in horror to apologize, “Oh, I am so sorry - I didn’t mean to stop.” 

Jimin’s head is turned to the side, his hair falling into his eyes.  The smile gracing his face is soft.  “It’s okay,” he assures you, “I feel much better already anyways.” 

Your cheeks flush before he even stops talking.  “That’s good,” you whisper, “We’re almost done so I would hope so.” 

“What!” Jimin’s eyes dart to the clock on the table.  It’s already 8:50am.   

That saddens you a lot more than it should. 

“On second thought: I feel tense in my hand, I think you need to go back and redo it.  Here.”  He’s extending his right hand towards you as if to shake hands, and you laugh.  

“Nice try, Jimin,” you say, “But I do need to work on your face for the last part.  Close your eyes for me, please.” 

He stares at you for a second before obeying.  The smile from earlier makes a return.  

You roll your chair back to the head of the bed and plop down.  Jimin’s face is angelic even upside-down, and you pray to the heavens that you massage it perfectly.  

When you start, you quip, “See?  You’re so happy we’re almost done.” 

“No, no!” Jimin laughs.  “That’s not it.  You just called me Jimin - it was nice.”  

“Oh.”  You swear steam is billowing from your head.  How can he affect you so intensely?  And how were you keeping yourself together?  

With the resolve of a thousand emperors, maybe including one you probably did save in a past life, you steady your hands on his temples.  Rubbing in delicate circles, you start the last segment.  

Face massages are your favorite.  Even the smallest movements are invigorating, and you feel very refreshed after one.      

“When I come back, Spa Concerto, No. 4 better be available.” 

You smile.  There’s no way Jimin will be back, but you appreciate his friendly nature.  

“It’s not even all that great, but I’ll let them know,” you play along. “I’m more of a piano person, though. There’s a lot of piano covers saved in my phone that are way better.” 

Jimin’s eyes flash open at the same time he proclaims, “Ah, I love piano covers!  Especially on rainy days.”

“Mm,” you hum in agreement, “I can listen to those all the time.”

Your heart drops like a stone as you glance at the clock and see your time is up.  The hour absolutely flew by.  Dropping your eyes back onto Jimin’s face, you take your hands off his cheeks and say, “Okay, that’s the end of our session today.” You get up to dry your hands and lower arms with a cloth while going over the last steps, “I’ll leave you to get dressed, and I’ll come back to the room to give you water and some stretch and wellness recommendations moving forward. Just press the green button on the remote when you’re ready, like last time.”

When you turn back to him, Jimin’s fully propped up with his hands behind him. The blanket over him is draped across his body, just enough to cover his ribs.  He’s smiling right at you as he speaks, “Thank you.  You’re really good.” 

You bow in thanks, face lighting up like wildfire. “You were great, too,” you comment in return, immediately cringing inside. “I’ll be back when you’re ready for me.”

-

Right after you leave clients is when you start filling out their evaluation and wellness recommendations on your tablet.  You just worked on them, so the memories are fresh.  The forms are a mix of multiple choice and fill-in, and you recommend some specific stretches and deeper pressure for Jimin. 

This time, Jay is in the employee lounge when you come in to wait.  His legs uncross and he pops up from one of the modern loveseats that are just as firm as they look.  “She’s alive!” 

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the flush in your cheeks.  “I’m here, but barely,” you chuckle, your tablet dangling in your hand by your side, “I still can’t believe that actually happened.”

Jay leans in so that no one can hear what he has to say, which makes you suspicious since there’s no one around you.  In a low voice, he reveals, “Yoon and I made a bet.” 

“Wonderful,” you drawl, “I’m gonna walk away now.”  You can already tell this is one-hundred percent not in your favor.

“No, wait!” His whisper is loud. He bounces after you to the water and food station. While you fix yourself a cup, he continues, “Yoon thinks you’ll get done with the appointment unscathed, but I think you’ll come out of it with a problem.” 

Jay’s words remind you like alarm bells.  

You need to pay Jimin for damages.  

“Oh, shit, I need to get something,” you say in a rush, grabbing your tablet off the food station and scurrying to the locker room.  In the wellness center, the employee lounge is in the back, and the locker room is in the back of the lounge.  You think you still have time before Jimin is ready. 

There’s a notebook you keep in your bag along with a pencil case.  Tearing a sheet from the notebook, you write down what you think is a good estimate for the shoes.  Before you write anything else, you pause.  

You only skimmed through the confidentiality prompts, but you do remember a section about personal information.  Therapists aren’t allowed to give out their personal information unless specifically asked, and there has to be solid intent behind the client asking.  Jimin didn’t need to ask you for yours; he just said not to worry about it. 

After a good thirty seconds of your pen lingering above the paper, your tablet chimes.  

A split second decision has you crumpling the paper and chucking it in your bag.  You tear out a new sheet and tuck it with the pen under your tablet as you head back to Room 3.

-

You get to the room with a paper cup of water you grabbed on the way, and since you have things in both hands it’s a bit difficult getting the door open.  You try the handle but it only jiggles a bit.  One more try has you pushing the door right as the handle gives, and it works.

Jimin goes to you immediately when he sees your hands full, and you almost reel back from having him so close.  Which should be odd, since you were literally just with him for a full hour, and he was not fully clothed.  In the end, his presence alone is enough to affect you no matter the situation. 

You extend the cup to him and he grabs it with a small thank you.  

“I filled out your evaluation and it should be printed at the front already.  Make sure to drink more water after you leave,” you say with a smile, your chest heavy.  This was most likely the last interaction you would ever have with him. 

Jimin nods, his mask covering his smile but not his eyes.  He doesn’t say anything more. 

You almost leave it at that, but something in you doesn’t want this moment to end, so you take your chance. “And, umm,” you stutter as you fumble with the pen and paper.  You just lay your tablet on the massage table to free your hand, and click the pen open.  “How much should I pay you,” you ask, your gaze ironically on the very shoes you tripped over earlier. 

Jimin sets his cup down on the console table before taking the paper and pen from your hands.  You watch him write something - a price in Won most likely - as you explain, “I’m a big believer of making things right, so please let me pay for your shoes.  I should’ve seen them on the ground.”

He folds the paper and hands it back to you with the pen.  “If you insist.  But don’t check this until you get home.” 

“What, why?”  Your eyes dart to his face. 

Jimin stares at you before responding, “Nothing bad. It just might shock you.” 

Immediately, your gaze lowers.  If you tell anyone how your day went today, you would think they were weird if they believed you. If you tell anyone why you’re suddenly broke come this Wednesday, they would be lying if they just went with it.  “Okay, I won’t,” you assure him, and you’re telling the truth.  You are equal parts surprised and nervous that he’s allowing you to pay him back. 

With a deep breath, you give Jimin your best soft smile.  Your heart is hurting as you send him off, “Well, it was a pleasure.  Have a great rest of your day, Jimin.  Until next time.”  You catch yourself in a sea of emotion as your words die on your tongue.  The boys have schedules on schedules, so the likelihood of him stepping foot inside this wellness center again is minuscule at best.    

If anything, you’re grateful that you get to address him by name, and you succeeded in making this as smooth and safe as possible for him.  At the expense of a scraped nose and hand, but rather you than him.  

Jimin hoists his bag on his shoulder, the water cup you gave him already in the trash bin.  He walks right up to you and stands there, and you swear both of you can hear your heart beating.  One of his hands comes up to his masked face, and he speaks softly as he advises, “Ointment will help your nose if it still hurts.” 

Warmth blooms in your chest and cascades all the way to your fingertips.  Mirroring him, you bring a hand up to your nose and nod.  Your words tumble out, “Oh, yes, you’re right.  I can check if we have any in the back.”  

Satisfied, Jimin nods.  “Until next time,” he offers, his eyes creased and warm. 

You smile again and bow slightly.  He puts on his shades before heading out the door frame and into the hall, and you feel emptiness in his wake.  The world is fuzzy around your vision and you are trying so hard to commit everything that just happened to memory.  

Until the doors to front reception close, you watch Jimin’s retreating back.  When the frosted doors close shut, you close your own door to Room 3 and lean against the wooden frame.  The scrap of paper is creased in your hand as you clutch it to your hammering chest.  

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself.  It takes a good minute for you to compose yourself before pushing off the door and getting the room stripped and ready for the next session.  The whole time, you replay everything in your head.  

Jimin was just as nice as you have seen him through the lens of cameras.  If that was the case, all of them had to be the same way.  You are proud to like these wonderful people.  

You’re so happy you got to actually spend all this time with him, but that just magnifies the sadness you feel when it’s over. 

-

The room is done and cleaned up, and you go through the rest of the day on autopilot.  Not even Jay’s constant teasing could free you from your euphoria-numbed state.  The only thing that throws you back into focus is Yoon, and it happens at the very end of the work day.  

You push open the doors to front reception, and smile big at your friend behind the counter.  She’s beaming right back at you, and she puts her chin in her hand and shakes her head. 

“That must’ve been one hell of a message,” she says through a barely contained smile.  

Your hand flies to your forehead and you nod.  “I can’t believe that happened, Yoon.  I mean, it was really him.  Opportunity of a lifetime… I just hope he enjoyed the whole thing.” 

“You could say that,” she chuckles, “Enough to book you again, at least.” 

What?

“He did?” Your breath leaves you in a rush.  “If you’re joking with me, I’ll--” 

“--He did.  It’s not for a long time, but he asked for you specifically.”  Yoon gathers papers in her hand and starts to organize them in the containers behind her.  “You really piss me off, you know that?” 

“Love you, too,” you whisper, your head completely above the clouds.  You grab your phone and start checking your schedule from the wellness center app you have installed.  Grabbing the door handle, you absentmindedly wave back to Yoon and call out, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  

The sun emits a golden glow at this hour, and the glass buildings along the street bask in its shine.  You head towards your bus stop while skimming your calendar for Jimin’s next appointment, but you’re already four months out and see nothing.  Not losing hope, you keep going and see a booking six months in advance.  Your heartbeat skips as you click on the appointment, and almost skids to a halt when you see his name written down.

-

As soon as you enter your small apartment, you head straight to your bed and drop your bag on the comforter.  Your whole body bounces as you plop yourself down next, and you stare straight at the ceiling.  

Your life is still normal, right?  Sure, you were able to spend an entire hour with Park Jimin, but that didn’t mean you aren’t still completely and utterly average.  

You close your eyes and go back to Room 3.  The scent of lavender fills your nostrils and you can still see his number tattoo as plain as day as you massage his wrist.  

In all honesty, it still feels like a fever dream.  That was someone else’s life you were able to live, someone else there with Jimin and you just decided to hitch along for the ride.  

But that was real, and so is the amount of money you still need to withdraw from your bank account.  

With a sigh, you reach into your bag and take out the piece of paper.  You were dreading this moment all day since he left.  Unfolding it, you prepare for the worst. 

But all you can do is stare.  

Jimin didn’t write down a price at all. 

Your name is at the top, and the rest is as follows:

Save your money for traveling and learning new things, not on me. I can’t wait to see what you’ve learned when we meet again.

-

-

a/n: thank you for reading! if you guys have any comments or feedback, please feel free to let me know!

[blushnik]

I love love your works and posts. Always looking forward to more content from you. Anyways my question is that in Punisher season 2 really trashed billy. What do you think about it. Personally I Hate Krista and Madani. Do you think billy and frank would have eventually started a relationship if billy hadn't been outed for betrayal.

*SOBBING HAPPY NOISES* Lemme just- uh, lemme calm down, this was so much praise I didn't expect to see when opening the inbox 😭��💙💙💙💙💙💙

Okay, now to your question *breathing exercises initiated*

First, I just wanna say that I kinda pushed the entire season 2 out of my mind, especially THAT part (y'all know what I'm talking about, I ain't gonna say it out loud) cause it just really hurts but xD I think I can handle it for this one occasion.

Season 2 really went ahead and said: Let's just punish Billy Russo for 13 episodes straight, yeah? Cause the show's name is PUNISHER. And he's PUNISHER's nemesis, right? So we PUNISH him, that makes sense, right? *clown mask here* And people will totally cheer when we finally get rid of him cause he's BAD and deserved to be PUNISHED, RIGHT? *clown levels intensify*

Lemme just point out that Billy Russo DID get his punishment when Frank introduced him, quite intimately, to a mirror. He suffered consequences of it during his coma in his dreams and after with memory loss and all conditions that came with it. And that'd be okay to have at the start but NOT FOR THIRTEEN FKING EPISODES.

You can't beat up a character that much, for that long, and then expect us to be cheering when he meets the shittiest end you could possibly think of. Not to even mention the monumental waste of potential in that story.

Remembering what he did and being told what he did are two VERY different things. If he doesn't remember shit then ofc it doesn't make sense to him how could he ever betray Frank like that. For all he knows, everyone just turned against HIM and made up this lie, his best friends and people he cared about going after him for – in Billy's eyes – no reason. Forget Maria and kids and Rawlins, just the fact my best friend, the only person I ever truly felt connected to and trusted and cared about ground my face against a broken mirror would be A LOT to process.

I seriously expected Billy to remember what he's done somewhere in the middle but somehow the writers thought new characters nobody cares about and an overly complex plot is a better way to go? That letting Billy be just a confused screaming crying mess for the entirety of season 2 while ten meaningless subplots get resolved so he can die right after will somehow work?

Look, I get he was supposed to lose everything he had in season 1, that being not only his wealth and company and good looks (he's still hot shut up and those feeble scars, bitch, what was that, Shadow and Bone did a better job at doing accurate scars) but also his self-control, his control over his emotions, composure, his ability to keep his cool, smooth-talking, etc.

But you can't let him be the victim and then expect the audience to not empathize with him or feel sorry for him and to NOT be okay when he dies right after it seems he finally found some peace, happiness, and love (I hate Krista too but shit, he was so happy with those stupid flowers, Ben sure knew what he was doing when he gave those blue flowers to Alina right before everything turned to shit).

Granted, he did shitty things in season 1 and season 2 too but the difference is this;

In season 1, those were his conscious choices. He never was a victim even in his own story. He knew he stepped on other people in order to get himself higher, he decided when it comes down to it, better someone else than him. He decided that after building himself up, no price was too great to pay just to make sure he was never hitting the bottom again and he had no problem with doing it because he's incapable of compassion and 'even though he loves Frank more than anything or anyone, Billy loves himself just a bit more' – Ben Barnes' words, not mine.

But in season 2, he doesn't know about any of that. He does feel like a victim because from his POV, everyone is simply attacking and somebody close to him hurt him for things he can't believe he did because at that point, he believed he would NEVER be capable of doing such things. And when he does something shitty – it's because he feels attacked, he feels like he needs to protect himself and that he's pushed towards it.

Pretty fking hard to see him as a villain, at least for me -.-

It's almost like the writers were too scared to explore that emotional turmoil and impact it would have on him and how it'd change his character if he remembered. Which is SUCH a shame it hurts. Ben Barnes has put so much nuance and depth into Billy's character, he had dimensions and so many layers so just imagine what it would be to have all of that go through some serious angst and explore his relationship with Frank further.

But no.

Instead, we get this imitation of angst where Billy Russo becomes a punching bag and we're supposed to go OOOH HE STILL EVIL BITCH when he darest to punch back.

And don't get me started on the worst character kill-off I've ever seen. Just no. I am not even sharing my opinions on this cause it's too much to think about.

So there you have it, season 2 is trash in my opinion, they really did Billy so dirty while throwing in subplots and characters that were absolutely unnecessary to have. It could totally be just about Frank and Billy trying to come to some closure (violent or not) and maybe Dinah sprinkled in cause she got a lot of beef with Billy too.

Now just to quickly answer the other question, would they have started the relationship eventually if Billy wasn't outed for betrayal?

Marvel and the Mouse are cowards so ofc not in the canon, but in my humble hcs opinion, ofc YES. Frank's the only one Billy feels a connection with and vice versa. And while it's easier for Frank to care for other people than it is for Billy (since, unlike Billy, Frank is capable of compassion), nobody gets him and accepts him the way Billy does. I like to think of that quote from the Darkling for this:

"I've seen what you truly are and I've never turned away."

That's Billy @ Frank. Together with the reasons, I listed in the previous ask where I pointed out how they complement each other ^^

PS: I just wanna say I actually love Dinah but it may be because of my hcs. She was really getting on my nerves at the beginning and then I just made up stuff in my head that made me really fond of her, like Dinah dating Karen Page and being the good bro for Frank and Billy.

Thank you for the reading if you made it this far, THANK YOU for the kind words and keep invading my inbox if you like 🥰💙💙

[veliseraptor]

So this is in NO WAY PRESSURING, get to this whenever you're bored and have nothing better to do, but I (have still not watched The Untamed) would love to hear any disorganized rambles around your fic 'Punitive Measures', like your thoughts while writing it, how you view Xue Yang's fight/flight/freeze instinct, and/or where you would take the plot if you ever came back to it (again, not pressuring, I'm not asking for a sequel, I'm asking for director's commentary. Also I know the mysterious flute was implying Wei Wuxian, I know that much and not much more.) It's a really fun, quick fic that I enjoy reading through while I keep circling around your longer, more intimidating stories. I aspire to write like you.

oh boy, well, I don't know that I ever have nothing to do but here I am answering this ask anyway, because I like talking about my fic even if I get self-conscious about it.

this entire fic falls solidly into the genre of fic I write that is legitimately just “I’m gonna fuck up this character I love because it’ll be fun and I love to do that” and then just kinda...went for it. actually harder than I was initially planning! my vague sense of what I was going to do with this fic didn’t have Xue Yang down an eye at the end of it.

but when inspiration strikes, what’s a girl to do, etc.

I actually thought recently about writing a sequel to this fic (or, well, continuing into the AU it started, more like) because the concept of Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang being bloodthirsty vengeance brethren is a very good one for me, personally, and at the point their paths would be intersecting in this AU a more plausible one than it would be at pretty much any other time (I would argue, at least in CQLverse). And that’s where I think this would be going. Because Xue Yang would see Wei Wuxian, in his bloodiest frame of mind, powered up with a gorgeous flute of bad vibes and go “fuck yes” even if he wasn’t in a place where he really needed the help.

The question I had was whether Wei Wuxian would be interested in accepting company, and I feel like Xue Yang on that front could be convincing. And the way that the latter would both enable and egg on all the former’s darkest fantasies and impulses...I’m just saying, Wen Chao and everyone he has ever known is in for a very bad time, possibly even worse than they already were.

I invite you to picture in this AU the part where Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji find not just darker and edgier Wei Wuxian at the end of their scavenger hunt but darker and edgier Wei Wuxian with a friend. A familiar friend! Now down an eye and practically picking his teeth with Wen Chao’s finger bones. :D

since you asked for disorganized rambling I went back to reread and I’ll give you some director’s commentary on a few things

And he’d kind of hoped Wen Ruohan would be too busy figuring out how to deal with his brewing war to dedicate much attention to looking for one absent retainer. And even if he did, Xue Yang had sort of figured that finding him would fall to Wen Chao, who’d probably struggle to find his own ass with two hands.

kicking off this director’s commentary with Xue Yang’s brutal assessment of the competency of Wen Chao.

tbh one of my favorite things about CQL’s involving Xue Yang in the whole Sunshot storyline, despite the merry hell it plays with timeline stuff later, is how obviously little regard Xue Yang has for the Wens, even when they’re at the height of their power. He shows Wen Ruohan himself very little respect, and I can’t imagine anyone else getting more (except maybe Wen Qing, because Wen Qing is competent and if nothing else Xue Yang can respect competency).

and he just like. ditches them. walks out! promises to deliver very powerful magical artifact, and then gets what he wants and is like “smell ya later, peace” and they never catch him.

that’s just a kind of gutsiness and casual disregard for very powerful people that I really both love and respect about Xue Yang. and also that he has in common with Xiao Xingchen, tbh. and Song Lan (though him I think to a slightly lesser degree, partly because he has a little more tact and sense of societal norms as something relevant to be thinking about)! they can all vibe on that.

They took Jiangzai. Well. One of the Wen disciples took Jiangzai in the stomach and Xue Yang didn’t get it back.

this isn’t an important line or anything. I just like it a lot.

Wen Chao gestured again and he went down in a hail of fists and feet. Xue Yang tucked his chin down to protect his throat, curled his hands into his chest, and drew up his knees to guard his stomach.

He knew how this worked. Sure, it’d been a while since someone had beat him like this, but the lessons stuck. It was almost boring, really. If Wen Chao was going to play torture games then he could at least do Xue Yang the favor of trying to be creative.

He checked out the part of his brain that registered pain as anything other than a thing that was happening and focused instead on opportunities. Weaknesses in his assailants. Escape routes. Getting away would be the first thing. Nice if he could take a piece of Wen Chao with him on the way out - arm, or maybe even a head - but the priority was freedom and survival.

okay, this I feel like cuts into some of what you were talking about regarding Xue Yang’s fight/flight instinct, and also a lot of what if, I was feeling pretentious, I feel like this fic is digging into on a level under “what if I just tortured Xue Yang a whole bunch,” which is something about the relationship Xue Yang has to (a) pain and (b) his own body. Specifically, the relative indifference he has toward both. Or...not indifference, exactly, because it’s not like he’s enjoying himself, it still hurts. It’s just...expected.

unremarkable.

which is a lot of what I was trying to convey with Xue Yang’s narration during the whole torture sequence, with the commentary on methodology and how things are mundane or boring, because the suffering itself is mundane! as far as Xue Yang is concerned that’s exactly what suffering is! other peoples’, for sure, which is part of why it doesn’t matter, but also his own.

the world hurts and that’s just how it is and you learn how to cope with that. pain as...a thing that [is] happening.

I also, since you mentioned the fight/flight instinct, think a lot about how Xue Yang is, while he’s very proud and very stubborn, absolutely not someone to pick fights (in general) that he knows he can’t win. Xue Yang will almost always be on the side of “run and come back another day” over “stand and fight when all is lost.” survival, first and foremost.

which feeds into the weird paradox that I kind of hint toward at the end of this fic about Xue Yang as someone who has a definite death drive, who is profoundly obsessed with his own death in a lot of ways, and simultaneously is attached to staying alive above pretty much all else.

“Snap and snarl all you want,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere. And the only part of you I need intact is your tongue, so you can tell me where you hid the Yin Metal you promised. Everything else is optional.”

A prickle of fear rolled down Xue Yang’s spine and he flicked it away, baring his teeth.

I actually do think that, even before they get around to hand-specific trauma, permanent mutilation is one of those things that still scares Xue Yang. which is a short list! there isn’t much that actually either gets to or scares him, but I think the prospect of (further) mutilation does, because I think Xue Yang is very...acutely aware of the fact that his physical capability is a major factor in what has kept him alive and what, in all likelihood, is going to keep him alive moving forward. anything that threatens that capability, that limits him in terms of strength or mobility or otherwise has a disabling effect, is consequently going to be a short road to death, and Xue Yang would much rather die painfully fighting than die as a consequence of not being able to take care of himself.

for Xue Yang, the idea of a return to the kind of helplessness that is tied to his trauma is one of the worst possible prospects to contemplate. in my head this is exacerbated further by the fact that I figure Xue Yang didn’t get much if any medical care post hand incident, meaning that the recovery period was absolutely nightmarish and a whole stretch of time beyond the event itself where Xue Yang was struggling to survive because he’d been damaged.

in some ways I think that period of time probably did more to shape Xue Yang than the moment itself.

Wen Chao grabbed one of the branding irons from a disciple’s belt and pressed it to his stomach. That hurt. More. He clamped his back teeth together so he didn’t make any sound, absorbed the burn, owned it. His. You only hurt if you were alive. And anything you survived made you stronger.

Not that this was actually going to make him stronger. It was probably just going to make him dead. But then again, the worse this went the more resentment he’d have built up. He could use that. Would.

Dead didn’t have to mean finished.

obviously this is pulled almost direct from what Wei Wuxian himself says to Wen Chao. deliberate echoes based on character parallels! we love those.

and yeah, again here about Xue Yang and his relationship to pain, but in a less mundane way this time where it’s about pain as a tool, pain as something he can use. which is another thing about coping, I think - when pain and suffering are a regular part of your life, one way to deal with that can be to convert it into having some kind of purpose or benefit.

which in this case it definitely can. Xue Yang is definitely someone who, I think, has thought a lot about trying to arrange it so he becomes a ghost after he dies. or at least has thought a lot about what he’d do after dying to the person who killed him. 

and when you’re a necromancer by trade death really isn’t the end of the line anymore, just the start of a something new. Xue Yang’s relationship to life itself: about as jacked up as his relationships in general.

He felt the snap of bone in his teeth. Pain shooting up the side of his hand, all the way to his wrist, and Xue Yang couldn’t keep himself still enough not to try to wrench himself away. He swallowed his scream and turned it into a laugh. It was funny, wasn’t it? Funny, that he was back here, again. It wasn’t as bad, though. He knew how to take pain, how to breathe it in, make it part of himself, later turn it outwards magnified tenfold. They were old friends. Practically lovers. 

two things here:

1. the thread throughout this fic of Xue Yang making things funny so he can deal with them, here brought to you by reliving trauma! because it’s funny! right? laugh about it! just fucking hilarious.

I have a thing about characters basically deciding for themselves to make very unfunny situations funny because it makes them less awful.

2. and look, now he can deal with it better this time! he’s Learned. :) :) :)

Everything splintered. Splintered like bones under a wheel, and first thing he tried to struggle to get away but that just hurt worse and then old old old instincts kicked in and he went still, limp, dead.

“Did he faint?”

Someone nudged him with their foot. One part of him roared to grab that foot and rip it off along with the leg it was attached to. Immediately the same thing that’d made him play dead told him to wait.

at an end point where fighting is impossible and running is also impossible, the only thing left to do is play dead and wait it out. this is very much, in my head, a reversion to a tactic Xue Yang hasn’t used in a very long time and does not want to be using now, because it is absolutely the recourse of the extraordinarily helpless with no way out.

which he has been! and is now, but he really really really doesn’t want to be. Xue Yang has built his life around not being that, ever again.

but here it’s not a move he makes planning to turn it around the way he does, not at first. he gets there, but when he first does it I think it is literally just instinct that goes enough is enough and shuts down.

Wen Chao, Wen Chao, Xue Yang thought. My body’s going to give out before I do.

someone should remind me at some point maybe (or not) to write something coherent about my Xue Yang vs. his own body thoughts. specifically the way that, while Xue Yang is very physical and very grounded, I think he has a somewhat antagonistic relationship with his own body, actually. not completely! he definitely respects what it can do for him! but I think he also treats it a little as a slightly separate entity that’s capable of betraying him rather than as a fully integrated part of himself.

not always! but it’s a little bit there. this idea that sometimes his body, and its capacity to be hurt or damaged, is a weakness that he’d like to be able to forgo entirely, if only it wouldn’t mean losing all the good things about having a body. and that’s present here in this line, for me, where he thinks about himself and his body as slightly separate, and his body as something weaker than its Xue Yang core.

[mantistog]

Can you do a part 2 of apex predator?? Pretty please 🥺

Honestly, I had so many ideas but I had to bring in the family dynamic. I just love to see Five handle his siblings questioning his choices. Also, definitely making a whole ass umbrella academy blog. 

_____________________________________________

Yandere! Five Hargreeves x reader: Sickness. 

You wake up, noticing that you’re still wrapped up in Fives arms and an abundance of blankets. This alarms you in a way, as you have never once woken up before him. Not only that, but his breathing is slightly heavier than it normally is. You try to wiggle out of his hold as subtly as possible, but he just presses you tighter into him and mumbles something incoherent. You basically have to shove him and the blankets away to roll over and look at the clock, which you find that it’s much later than the usual time you get out of bed. Taking in a whiff of his scent, deciding to smell him up you already conclude that he is sick. Just to make sure though, you decide to put your hand on his forehead and you quickly remove it realizing just how hot he is.

You get out of bed, going to the kitchen and rummaging through the cabinets, not finding a single can of soup. Five never was fond of it, but you just assumed you’d have some laying around. Then you take to the bathroom, not finding any medicine you know what to do with either. You decided to make him hot milk, which you know he won’t appreciate either but it’s all you can think of. When you return he is sitting up slightly, a hand pressed firmly to his head as he groans. You place the mug gently on the nightstand, sitting down next to the bed and putting your head on it and looking up at him worried. 

You really don’t know what you’d do with yourself if Five wasn’t here. It’s like you unlearned to care for yourself. Even simple tasks like heating that milk seemed like a battle. Five pats your head, but looks down at the cup in disgust. “I’m not drinking that.” You hiss, grabbing onto his arm aggressively, and he looks surprised as he reels back a bit. “You NEED to drink it. It will help!” You reason with him, pleading up at him with your eyes. He looks away, just the movement of his head making him tired. You know if you’d done this while he was completely normal he would have punished you. Maybe you liked him better sick.

There’s silence, as he slowly grabs the mug and chugs the warm milk. He lets out a disgusted groan and puts the mug back down. You smile at him, pawing at his hand in a sign of approval. He can’t say he doesn’t enjoy the positive attention for once. “We don't have any medicine.” You inform him. He looks away like he has a secret, or maybe it’s regret. You can’t tell. “Yeah, I didn’t think it was safe to have any in the house.” There’s really no time to ask him what he means before he changes subject. “Can you get me the phone?” You nod, getting it for him. You’re silent as he puts in the number and the phone rings.

“It’s me. I’m going to need you to come over with some stuff.” You can hear static on the other end and talking, but no matter how much you strain your ears you can’t tell what the other part is saying. “I’m sick. I need medicine and.. Soup.” He says the last word with contempt and your nose scrunches up. You like soup. Maybe Five could learn to like it too. There’s some resistance but the other person finally agrees and Five hangs up after giving an address. Your address, you suppose. It’s not like he’s ever bothered to tell you. You can tell Five is less than pleased at having to let someone in, but you get giddy with the thought of seeing another living person for the first time in forever. 

Five grabs onto you, guiding you back into bed with him where you both cuddle up together. It’s way too hot, but Five seems to be shivering. You cuddle up to him closer, trying to provide him with the natural heat of your body. He starts fiddling with your hair, groaning in what you assume to be both annoyance and pain every once in a while. His mouth is constantly hanging open, as he breathes heavily. He coughs a bit before talking. “My sister is coming over with medicine. I expect you to behave yourself.” When he commands you like that, that’s when you hate him most. That’s when the thought of running away while he is weak grabs hold of you. But then he scratches you so gently behind your ears and you nod, knowing why you stay. 

You’re codependent. You need him as much as he needs you. So, when there is a soft knock at the door you sneak away, trying not to wake him. He doesn’t seem to notice or even stirr in his sleep when you detach yourself and walk downstairs and to the front door. You open the front door gingerly, peeking through the little opening in the door. There is not one, but three people standing there with multiple bags. They seem harmless so you open the door fully, eyeing them. The tallest woman, who is insanely beautiful might you add, looks confused and so does the small cute woman too. There is a guy behind them, who almost shouts at you before you lunge at him, putting your hand on his mouth. You make a shushing motion, and he seems to understand as you detach yourself.

 “He is asleep.” You whisper, and they nod seeming to understand. You step aside and let them in. They look around the house and it’s clear they’ve never been here before, even back before you moved in. You wonder if these people even are related to Five at all, from them not looking alike either Five or each other. You lead them into the kitchen, closing the kitchen door to dampen the sound. They all look at you so suspiciously, you get self conscious. It’s just silent, before the tall woman takes the initiative and puts the bag she has on the kitchen table. “We brought stuff.” She just says. You nod, walking over and looking into the bag.

You start to put it away, a large arrangement of canned soup and such. After looking around for a second she starts to help you. The guy has already sat himself down at your kitchen table, eyeing you as you move. “What are you?” He asks, and the short girl next to him turns to him, flabbergasted. “Diego-” She starts, but is interrupted when he talks again. “What?” He snaps at her. You have no idea how to handle this amount of hostility. Five might be aggressive, but he never snapped at you for no reason. There’s a thick silence in the kitchen, but luckily you’re saved when you can hear Fives loud voice basically SCREAM your name throughout the house. They all flinch, but you just rush back into your bedroom. 

You throw yourself onto the bed, hugging him close. “I thought you left.” Is all he says, holding onto you tightly. “Why would she leave?” Someone says from the doorway and Five shoves you away, looking at the intruder. “Vanya.” He simply says, looking at her. You just now notice how miserable he actually looks. His eyes are half lidded and red, his mouth hanging open slightly as he tries to get as much air as possible. “Didn’t take you long.” He simply says. She smiles. “I brought company.” Five is quick to reply. “Please, I don’t want any medicine Klaus has touched.” She laughs. 

“You didn’t tell us you had company already,” The guy, Diego, says, shoving his way past Vanya and into the bedroom with you. You’re almost scared Five will disown you in front of them, knowing how much he does not like to show his care or affection. But all he does is look at him coldly. “It’s not just ‘company’, it’s my partner.” You hide a bit under the covers, trying not to meet their eyes as they all stare at you. “You’ve never said anything about that.” The tall lady says. For some reason they all seem to have some hostility to Five now. “He sneers. “It’s none of your business.” Diego is looking around suspiciously, touching random trinkets. Vanya seems more confused than she seems suspicious. “How is that none of our business? We’re your family.” 

Five seems too tired as he rolls his head. “Can we take this another time?” He says, starting to get out of bed. He’s still in his sleeping clothes. “I just think it’s weird.” Diego says. Five shoves them all aside as you follow him back to the kitchen where he grabs a bag of medicine. You can hear them discussing something in the bedroom. “They’re catching on quicker than I suspected. I might have to take you to meet them all to satisfy them to not look further into this, but I don’t know if I trust you.” He says, chucking a glass of water and some pills. Your face falls. He has never really acknowledged that he knows taking you and keeping you away from everything was bad. 

“Why not?” You ask, something breaking in your bedroom making you flinch. Five doesn’t seem at all surprised or bothered. You guess he knows his siblings well. “I’m not blind, sweetheart. I see the looks. I see how much you want to leave me.” He says, and even if he is right your heart breaks a little. Seeing only one person for so long, might have made you slightly attached. One might even suggest that you had come to love him. It’s hard to find the right words, as he looks so weak and stands only with the support of the kitchen cabinets. “I don’t want to leave you, Five. I just want to leave. I just want to go out there.” His look softens. This is probably the first real conversation you’ve had with him about this. At least without him getting angry with you.

“It’s dangerous out there.” You sigh, not wanting to push him too far. “Although, when I recover from this we will have to go see them. Maybe if you can handle that.. The grocery store won’t be too bad.” You smile, and can’t help it when you throw yourself at him, planting kiss after kiss all over his face. Then you rest your head in the crook of his neck. He smiles deviously, knowing that he has groomed you right. Soon your relationship might even become more normal. 

Or as normal as he will allow it, anyways. 

[pluviophile-bookworm]

HSMTMTS 2x10: New and a bit alarming... ok, very alarming

I don't even know at this point if I'm more nervous or excited for this episode. I've done my waiting and, well, whatever lies ahead, good or bad, or a little bit of both, I just can't wait anymore, even though I haven't been so scared to press play since... well, since last week. Guess I should just go for it, then:

Ooh, shady Seb doing the recap! We love to see it. Like, seriously, I'm anxious about the Seblos fight, but shady Seb is kind of my new favourite Seb.

I just... Ashlyn's acting is top tier. Emotional connection to the material? Superb! Chemistry with her co-lead... well, he'd have to be co-leading for any chemistry to be possible. I love Ricky, and I feel for him with all he's been through, but he's just not lead material right now. And it shows. Especially next to Ashlyn, who is killing it!

Miss Jenn is on the verge of a bloody mental breakdown and I just... wish I could do something to make things better. She reminds me of my mum when a deadline approaches for her to submit an article, and I just feel for her right now. Gosh, I'm feeling for everybody today. My empathy seems to be at its peak and I might just burst from all these emotions this episode is making me feel even before the 5-minute mark.

Ok, but Miss Jenn being stressed means Carlos is stressed for two, which means... this is a really bad time for him and Seb to have personal problems. My heart just can't handle it.

Wow... I never thought I'd see the day! The two leads are actually talking to each other! This is a mid-July miracle!

Why does everyone keep pretending their HSM was good? It was a flaming hot mess! A child could see that.

Miss Jenn needs a lot of work on her 'gracious face'. I, like Carlos, have quite some notes. Only mine aren't exactly, how do you say... verbally formulated quite yet.

Did Carlos just refer to Miss Jenn as 'mother'? Because yes.

I've been in a couple of local theatre productions in my day, but none of them had actual physical sets — we relied on the audience's imagination quite a lot — so I wouldn't know what a good set is made of... but even I can tell that plywood and Elmer's glue = not good.

Kourtney is a multi-tasking icon and we love her. I feel like I don't say this enough, but she deserves all the love.

Ooh, shady Seb is... well, shady! 'Quit school and get a job at the pizza shop?' — I mean, you don't see Reddy or Kourtney (or Howie, for that matter) quitting school in order to work at the Slices! Those kids juggle it all and, as someone who's never had to balance school and a job all at once, they have my deepest admiration.

Still, I think they should have thought about 'inventing' something re: transformation earlier than this point. The personal drama has taken up too much of their time.

Why does everyone keep inviting people over to Ashlyn's? I mean, it's not like I've ever heard her complain, but the girl needs some rest! And her house is not a public space.

Oh, so they're making this into a contest? I mean, I have never been a fan of competition, but to each their own. And Redlyn are hosting! This is going to be so beautiful! (You know, unless the boys try to sleep — see my post from yesterday about Reddy's background noise machine)

'I'm not worried. But North High should be!' Ooh, I love this look on Ashlyn! See, there's a lead to take notes from! And Ricky should be the first to do so. Take notes about what a lead acts like, I mean.

Oooooh, Big Red claps back! We love to see it. Although, you know, it stems from the fact that he's nervous about coming up with a solution to the transformation problem. 'I get bossy around the power tools' — Yes, sweetie, and I love that look on you. Maybe you should be around power tools more often, if that helps.

Ughhh, look what the cat brought in! Lily (I wish I knew her last name so I could refer to her by it exclusively, but we'll have to make do). I hate that girl. She reminds me quite exactly of the girl who bullied me in seventh grade to the point where I wished I'd die before having to deal with her at school again. She and Lily both bring out my aggressive side, and I hate that about them.

Ricky — 'so good at being a leading man'? I don't know what Lily is playing at here, but Ricky has not shown himself to be a very good leading man this season. He has the potential to be, but he has not fulfilled it by this point. Sure, he supports his friends and they support him, but that's basic decency. Not yet good leadership. No hate on Ricky, just the truth.

'I vaguely remember him' — please tell me this is setup for Ricky leading Lily on and then slamming the door in her face with the truth. The way I see it, he's been given a chance here. A chance to be the supportive, protective best friend Big Red deserves. I just... have a lot of ideas about this and I don't want it to end badly instead.

'I'm just not well-liked here, and I don't know what to do' — well, of course you aren't well-liked, you little— (ok, ok, calm down, breathe, 10, 9, 8...) whatever. I mean, she hasn't even considered basic decency, as it seems. Must be a new concept to her.

'Don't start with me, Carlos!' Wow. As much as I hate it that my two faves' only interaction in so long is so hostile, I kind of like this side of Big Red. I wonder what other sides of himself he's been hiding.

Listen, I don't like Seb being patronised and babied, but... 'Chip, this is your mother speaking: go call your mother!' made me laugh so hard. They're leaning into the on-stage family dynamic and I live for it.

EJ's idea of using old skateboards for the spinning contraption is... a brilliant callback to the fact that Ricky and Big Red were first characterised as skateboarders... you know, before diving headfirst into the theatre thing. And it feels like it might actually work.

Miss Jenn's excitement at seeing Mr Mazzara ('Benjamin!!!') is perhaps only topped by the fact that he was halfway home, got a text from her and instantly went back to the school. I mean, these two have something that's really big.

Miss Jenn referring to the kids as 'my children', combined with Carlos calling her 'mother' earlier just warms my heart so much! Those guys really are family. I live for it.

Ok, but... as clear as it is that the Wildcats are very far behind NH in terms of budget, rehearsal time and who knows what else, I hate seeing Miss Jenn resigned to them losing. I want to see her have faith in them, talk about how they will win, and, in her own words, 'trust the process'. I mean, I guess it's good that, as a teacher, she wants to prepare her kids for a possible defeat (and I mean really possible if they don't step up their game immediately, especially some of them * cough* Ricky *cough *), but a team that goes out to the field expecting to lose has a very minimal chance of winning.

Despite everything I've been saying again and again about Nini lately, the fact that she just delivered a very different 'No, Seb' has just redeemed her. See, this one wasn't dismissive or patronising — this was like, 'no, Seb, don't put yourself down' and I love that spin on the catchphrase I'd grown to hate. See, many things can be redeemed. And some simply cannot. * cough* Devil's spawn Lily *cough *. Also, Seb being self-conscious about the fact that Carlos 'doesn't have many options' at East Hight is the perfect setup for In a Heartbeat — meaning they will either have a chance to talk about their issue, or they have a telepathic connection, in which case, what kind of soulmate stuff is that?

'You're my sister; he's my cousin' — yeah, Ash, putting it like that makes it sound a lot weirder than it should, but I do get what you're trying to say. This is not a drill! Ashlyn is a Portwell shipper (heck, maybe even the captain of that ship) — but I feel like we already knew that.

'Why'd I never hear about this?' — and there it goes. Within the same scene, Nini was redeemed and then made aggravating again. What does she care if Gina thought Ricky sent her chocolates? He didn't. Because he and Gina can't be anything but very good friends. And I feel like good friends is what Gina needs. Maybe that's why I wanted EJ to be that for her initially (or it was because I'm aroace and don't tend to notice romantic attraction between fictional characters — or real people for that matter — unless it's explicitly stated to be there). But I've been on board of the majestic S.S. Portwell for a few weeks now and it's finally about to set sail.

Yeah, Nini, get a root beer, calm the heck down and get over it!

'Your other clockwise!' — Why does this even need to be said? How many 'clockwise's are there? I absolutely understand why Big Red gets the way he gets around power tools. I'd be on edge too, if the people I was trying to work with didn't know what way clockwise is. Still, I feel like by the time I'm 30, nobody younger than me would have a reason to know what way clockwise is, and I don't know if I feel bad or neutral about it.

Oh, so there's no telepathy involved in Seblos' problem resolution — it's been Redlyn's good communication all along. I might have known.

Ooh, Portwell is being discussed on both sides! PORTWELL NATION HOW WE FEELING

Nini? Why is everything about Nini? There's no way everything is about Nini. In all seriousness, though, EJ's worries about letting the next girl go seem valid in regards to Gina, given that she explicitly stated (though not within earshot of EJ or anyone who could have tipped him off) that she needs someone who will show up and stay. But they'll figure it out. They'll find a way. I know it. They will, or I will riot, and I know I won't be alone in that.

Ooh, Howie is giving Kourtney the original blueprints! Looks like Reddy isn't the only one who has a spy on the inside.

Ahhh, Ricky! Not 'Let You Go' again. I haven't cried to it in three days and I was not ready to break that streak. But... wait, this is where Carlos approaches Ricky to ask him for help with writing a song for Seb, isn't it? I am definitely ready for this.

Oh, is it... is it Ricky who suggests Carlos write a song for Seb? Now that is what a good leading man looks like.

'I'm adjusting to being called bro' — me too, Carlito, me too. But... this scene must have been so emotional for Josh, given that he hadn't come out yet. I remember him crying during The Climb and... all I'm saying is I want Ricky to come out at some point, too.

Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh... they were just talking about love languages and that's when Carlos shows up? Cinematic. Wait, there's Portwell too? This is what dreams are made of.

My oh my oh my! Risotto! For real this time. I might have just teared up. (Full disclosure: I did.) I've only had Portwell for about three weeks, but if anything happens to them, I will... you know how the meme goes. [side note: Wait, when I said 'for real this time', I was not expecting EJ would say it, much less word for word. Am I... writing this show now? It's usually my dad who predicts people's lines in TV shows]

'Not that I know of'... excuse me while I hyperventilate! These two are literal soulmates. They might share a brain, too, for all that I know. Portwell nation you ok guys?

I love that Ricky helped Carlos out with this song and is supporting him through it, but... I just might have preferred for him not to be there. I kind of need Seblos to have this moment to themselves. But, you know, with the way they feel about each other it might as well be like they're alone in the universe, let alone the room.

Ok, but Frankie's voice... brings out feelings in me that I didn't know I was capable of. Make of that what you will. Also, I'm not sobbing my eyes out, you are.

Ahhh Reddy my sunshine my sweet boy I love you but why did you have to cut Seblos' moment short? They were going to kiss, I know it. Oh well, they probably will, later on. Off-screen probably, but who cares? Not everything is for us to see. At least Carlos and Ricky had a moment there... Carlos calling Ricky 'bro' made me more emotional than I expected. It's like Miss Jenn says in s1: 'They're best bros, and that's a sacred thing... for reasons I will never understand'.

Ricky's acting sounds like a cat about to spit up a hairball, and it's so funny... in a scene that is supposed to be arguably the most dramatic of the entire play, that is not a good thing.

Oh my, oh my... you did not! You did not just end the episode with Ricky taking a fall from who knows how high. I was not ready. This episode was entirely too much for me. I will need 10 to 15 business days to recover from this, and we all know there aren't that many. But in the meantime you'll find me obsessively listening to In a Heartbeat for hours on end. Seriously, this episode is too much.

[acecorvid]

Hurts Me To Watch You Fading [Spideypool Fic]

Was going through the prompts that have been in my inbox for AGES when I got a sudden burst of inspiration to write my boys again. So even though it’s been *looks at watch* nearly two years fuck since I’ve written fanfic... here’s some hurt/comfort for y’all (or if you’d rather read on ao3)

Anon asks: Hi! I just read your fic with peter being super adorable in his deadpool hoodie and saw you're taking prompts. Seeing as you're asexual (like me!) I was wondering if you would write asexual peter having to explain to wade that he doesn't initiate sex because it's just not something he really thinks about much and not because of how wade looks

(Content warning for Wade being self-conscious about his body/scars)

Somehow Wade always found his way to Peter’s dorm room at the end of a long hard day of work. Which for Wade meant an early morning raid ending with several dead bodies, including his own a few times, but by the end Wade was in one piece and his suit was in less pieces and all the bad guys were dead. Next he needed to get all the blood out of his suit earning him another blank look of disappointment from his local definitely-not-a-front dry cleaners. They never questioned his circumstances and he didn’t much care what they got up to as long as people weren’t dying, leaving them with a silent, mutually beneficial relationship. 

Now he was in Parker’s dorm wearing comfy jeans and a hoodie that mostly covered his face if he lowered his head, something he did quite often. He didn’t entirely mind his appearance anymore, having gotten used to freaking himself out in mirrors the past few years. But it was other people’s reactions that made him feel like crap. The looks of disgust strangers gave him as he passed, the people who grabbed their kids and moved to the other side of the street, the ones who laughed at and mocked him hit a little too close to his time being experimented on. Sure he could easily use humor more efficiently than the assholes who mocked him to put them in their place but humor as a defense mechanism only went so far and the hurt still went deep. 

What was getting to him lately was his relationship with Peter. They had officially started dating several months ago, even if they had been flirting heavily on the random patrols as Spider-Man and Deadpool. But then Peter told him his secret identity and kissed him through his mask so tenderly and Wade didn’t think he could be more in love. Except they hadn’t gotten much further than tender kisses or cuddles. Not that Wade minded, it was comforting to be held the way Peter held him. He’d never had someone who he could truly let his guard down around, who was okay with him being soft and quiet. 

But every time they started to makeout, to get to the hot and heavy stuff, Peter would carefully untangle them, change the subject, shy away from any skin being shown, and they would watch cartoons or get food or anything other than being that kind of intimate with Wade. 

Not that he minded at first, Peter was a shy dude. He wasn’t like so many college guys who partied all the time and hooked up with whoever. He was a shy nerd and he was a superhero on the downlow, of course he wouldn’t have time for that but he also didn’t have any interest in it either. But Wade was starting to feel like Peter didn’t have any interest in him. 

Staring at himself in Peter’s mirror sans mask told him exactly why someone would have no interest in getting hot and heavy and naked with him. He’s had that many times. Flirting with a girl at the supermarket only for her to freakout once he peeled his mask up, hitting on a guy in a dark bar only for him to be disgusted once they moved into the light. It was a common occurrence for him. He thought Peter would be different. He was different. He didn’t shy away when Wade took his mask off and kissed him, but maybe he was good at faking it? Maybe he could deal with his face but the rest of his body was too much. His skin was rough and patchy, awful to look at and even less appealing to touch. 

He rubbed his hand over his face and head, shaking off his hood to get a good look at the mess he usually hid from most people. Everyone had their limits. Perhaps this was Parker’s. 

The key in the door alerted Wade to Peter’s return. Quickly he pulled his hood back up and retreated to the bed, ducking his head just as Peter walked in through the door. He looked somewhat surprised, but he relaxed immediately. 

“Hey,” Peter said softly. A smile tugged at his lips as he closed the door gently behind him. 

He seemed pleased to see Wade. Genuinely content with having him in his room. Nothing was matching up in Wade’s mind. 

“Hey Peter…” Wade started but trailed off before he could ask the question. He hated being in this position. He wished he could know the truth. For Peter to tell him he was disgusted by his wrecked body without prompting so he could crawl back to his old life and forget about this magical interlude. 

But Peter being Peter, he noticed something was off immediately. “What’s wrong? You almost never call me Peter, did something happen?”

He was closer now, trying to get a good look at Wade’s face but Wade angled his face away. That got him a sigh but Peter respected his boundaries and stepped away, leaning against the wall instead. 

“Do you want to talk to me about it?”

Wade shook his head, nodded, and then shook his head again. Screw Peter for being such a good guy, a respectful person, such a sweetheart. It was ruining what his brain was hooked on as the clear truth. Maybe Peter wasn’t disgusted with him but what else could it be?

“I’m not really pleasant to look at, huh?” Wade said instead, unable to confront Peter directly.

Peter pushed off the wall but stopped himself from coming closer. “Did someone say that to you?”

He sounded angry, on Wade’s behalf. Once again messing with Wade’s doubts. 

“All the time, but that’s not-” Wade chewed his lip, took a deep breath, and took the plunge. 

He took his mask off, revealing his unmasked face and head. Peter didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. He was frowning a bit but not at Wade’s appearance it seemed. It wasn’t as though this was the first time Peter saw his face but it wasn’t a common thing between them. Wade preferred to simply roll up his mask most of the time for their kisses, not wanting to feel too self-conscious. 

“Do you- are you-” Wade hated this feeling, wishing he could go back to witty one-liners and existential statements that bewildered those around him. Feelings did terrible things to his dialogue. “I know I look like ground up hamburger meat, Petey. I’m a big boy, you can tell me the truth if you think I’m too gross.”

Wade was aiming for humor, swerved into something a little more bitter, and he cursed himself for putting that hurt look on Peter’s face. 

“Wade I don’t think-” Peter started, he furrowed his brows and moved closer but slowly, as though Wade would run away if he was startled. Not a bad call. Wade was pretty close to bolting actually. But Peter crept close, slowly, and stopped a few paces away. Wade wanted him to come closer, stand right between his legs on the bed so Wade could pull him in close and hold him until he wasn’t upset. But he ruined that. 

“We don’t do anything more than kissing. You never want to- I get it,” Wade laughed, tugging on his hoodie. “It’s not pretty under here Pete, no one ever wants to look at it. It won’t kill me if you tell me you don’t want to see it or touch me.” He wasn’t lying. It would hurt like hell but nothing could kill him. Unpleasant side-effects of looking the way he did.

Peter surprised him by doing exactly what Wade wanted. He moved closer, slotting himself between Wade’s legs and putting his hands on Wade’s shoulders to get him to look up. 

“I’m such an idiot,” Peter mumbled, sounding mad at himself. Probably for not being able to hide his disgust, for making Wade realize exactly what was going on. Now he’d have to let Wade down. That’s simply the way the world worked for guys like him. 

“I should have told you a while ago but, I dunno, I was scared I guess?”

Here it comes, Wade closed his eyes to brace himself for the impact. 

“I don’t initiate anything more because I’m asexual. I don’t really, I dunno, have a lot of interest in sex? I mean maybe I could be if we talked about it but it’s never really on my mind. It’s got nothing to do with how you look, Wade. I like how you look just fine. I think you’re pretty cute, that’s part of why I’m dating you. Also your muscles are amazing, the general aesthetic of your body and you lifting me up? That’s about as close to sexual attraction as I’ve ever come.”

Wade felt his world tilt and it was entirely unexpected. “Wait you’re-” All of Wade’s otherworldly knowledge hadn’t prepared him for that possibility. That almost never happened. 

Peter leaned down, bringing both his hands to cup Wade’s cheeks. “You’re not disgusting, Wade. And anyone who says that will get their mouth webbed shut.”

Wade nuzzled into Peter’s hand, “That’s not the best use of superhero powers.”

“I’m defending the innocent, hush it’s the perfect use of my powers.”

“Innocent?” Wade arched his brow, staring up at his boyfriend who actually wanted him.

“Okay, well… maybe not innocent in the traditional sense but you look the way you do because you survived, you fought through hell and you got out, and that’s pretty damn attractive.”

Wade wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist, pulling him in closer. Peter laughed, leaning in to kiss him soundly on the lips. “So, opening to talking about it?”

“Should have known you’d have a one track mind,” Peter huffed into the kiss. “Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I never wanted to make you feel like I wasn’t interested in you.”

Peter straddled Wade’s lap so they could cuddle more properly. His arms were around Wade’s back, holding him close like he always did then they were together. Holding him like something precious, like Peter was as surprised as Wade was that he could have something this tender. 

“It’s okay. I did it to myself mostly. One track mind remember?”

“Are you um- are you okay with me being-?”

“Huh? Yeah of course I am. If you never want to have sex, also fine. I love you for more than how you look in spandex, Petey.” Wade pressed soft kisses along Peter’s shoulder to reassure him. He didn’t want to let this go, not when he thought it was going to be pulled out from under him just moments ago. 

“I love you, too.” Peter whispered into Wade’s ear, his hands gripping his hoodie tighter. 

It wasn’t exactly how Wade meant to tell him that, but with Peter whispering it back, not giving him a second to doubt himself, he was content with his slip up. 

"You do look incredible in spandex, though." Wade grinned against Peter's neck.

Peter leaned into the touch, his voice taking on a more mischievous quality. "Oh I know, Wade. I know."