#and every single day I feel this deep shame for buying food for myself that’s more that 5$

[doctorguilty]

griping about popular post but I don't wanna comment on it and potentially get too much attention and dogpiled

bad and terrible take I'm sorry like the "individual action is not effective" because "the fundamental problem is [higher institution]" is applicable to stuff like, "reducing your carbon footprint by driving electric cars and using metal straws makes minimal impact on the planet because multi billion dollar corporations are deep frying the planet" and even THAT concept has more to do with like personal sacrifice vs personal accountability.

For example if I spend extra money on sustainable eco-friendly food products and exhaust my food budget so that I go hungry at the end of the month, for the sake of individual action to like help save the earth, it is not worth hurting myself for because no amount of only purchasing free-range eggs will make an impact equal to me as a human being with basic needs and rights to food. And being guilt tripped and told I'm selfish for eating cheap eggs instead so that I have enough money to eat every day is bullshit.

At the same time, it DOES NOT mean that because your individual actions are small in the grand scheme of things, it is a waste of effort to do actions that DON'T negatively impact your life, health, or wallet. Like separating recycles from the trash, buying affordable cotton/wool/leather clothing instead of stuff made of plastics, those are still worthwhile things to do if you HAVE the ability, if you ARE capable.

Equating masking to the like, propaganda of "individual actions are necessary self sacrifice, go green at the cost of your well being while we spill 300 tons of oil into the ocean" is stupid, it's not the same thing. It's more like the separating-your-recycles thing but not even that either. Because it's not about the nebulous concept of "the planet" or the "wildlife and forests", it's about your NEIGHBORS, your fellow people at their jobs and at the store and living their lives, doing something individual for THEM, and it does ABSOLUTELY matter and make an impact.

It makes a HUGE impact every single day what you choose to do around other people; wearing a mask could be the difference between, what, you wearing a piece of cloth over your face that is uncomfortable sometimes? versus a cashier getting sick and having to stay home from work and lose a chunk of their paycheck, versus a child at the store catching your infection and bringing it to school with them and they all bring it home to their families, versus an elderly person who lives alone taking care of themselves, becoming bedridden and no one can get them groceries or pick up their medication at the pharmacy.

That stuff REALLY fucking matters and that doesn't even start breaking ground of disabled people, that op was really quick to throw under the bus?? oh society has forsaken them, it's an institutional, such a shame. nothing we can do about it. (also like. who was even talking about cons or events when it came to any of this.......because as far as I know everyone was like, please just wear a mask when you go to the store. to the doctor's office. like wha?)

oh, you feel bad it's being "moralized"? you don't like feeling personally responsible? it's uncomfortable when us undesirables are forsaken by everyone in power and all we can do is beg and plead to be considered by the average person in our vicinity? like honestly, op is right in the sense that the hard statistics when it comes to how much of an impact 1 person in a crowd of 500 don't really matter, but you know when I see that 1 person I think, god at least someone cares. Like. I mean it's complete misinfo to say it does nothing for disease transmission but since people don't care about THAT anyway, then yeah it IS a moral issue and you should feel bad about it! you should feel bad ignoring our voices, you should feel bad when we die, and you should feel bad if all it takes to even communicate to us, "I hope my choice does matter enough to save even 1 person in the world" is wear a piece of cloth on you face and you think that's equitable to corporate ceos guilting you over not driving hybrid cars while they tear down forests to build parking lots over, you think disabled people asking for a sliver of consideration on par with like, taking the grocery cart back to the return so it doesn't smack into someone's car is the same thing as oppressive institutions scapegoating poor people and profit from it...... like I think you've lost the plot, terribly.

[mellometal]

Hey, everyone.

I've tried to compose myself before making this post. This is a subject that I've touched on a little bit in posts, but I've never done a deep dive into JUST this topic. I was going to make a post solely about this subject sooner, but this one in particular is really hard for me to talk about without getting emotional...and yet Dhar Mann has talked about this on quite a few occasions in the most insincere, toxic ways. I'll do my best to discuss this topic without getting too emotional.

It's about a serious subject that people still are ignorant about and don't take seriously. Even to this day, with the body positivity and body neutrality movements. (I don't know of a better way to describe just being neutral about your body. Sorry if it sounds weird.)

For anyone who doesn't know what I'm referring to (honestly, I don't blame you, as this is a subject that's often seen as normal and is encouraged in society for the most part), I'm talking about fatphobia. Hating on people for being fat. Discriminating people because of their weight in the workplace, at the doctor's office, just in general. Not many stores having inclusive sizes. People being treated like they're subhuman because they're fat.

I want to say this first, before I bash on Dhar Mann again: I'm a plus-size young woman. This is something that I have personal experience with. Your weight has no significance to your worth as a person. If you do happen to be overweight, obese, whatever, you're not subhuman. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You're worthy of being loved, listened to, treated with kindness, and respected, just like anyone else who isn't fat.

If you treat people like utter shit for their weight, get some help. Why do you care about somebody else's weight? Obviously there's an exception to this, like if they're so big they can't move or they're so skinny their organs are showing....because those are causes for concern, but other than that, mind your own business. Even if they are in those extremities, unless you're their doctor and/or their family, STILL mind your own business. How the fuck does a fat person simply breathing and existing affect you in any way? News flash: there will always be fat people.

Before I get to the weekly ritual of tearing TWO of Dhar Mann's videos apart (the next one will be in another post or I'll reblog this post and continue on there), here's an obligatory trigger warning for the video analysis itself and my response: The following post contains fatphobia, fat shaming, a man being super fucking misogynistic and treating women like they're objects, and there's even a touch of some racial aggression. How shocking. Because Dhar Mann really seems to get a kick out of writing about racism to make it all cute. Oh yeah, you're totally solving racism, Dhar Mann. /s

My response contains my experience with fatphobia, relationships with food, mentioned/implied thoughts of s3lf h@rm, feeling like I'm unworthy of being treated like an actual person because of my weight, and absolute rage. Like usual. My responses are very heated. This one especially. It's LONG. Buckle up.

With all this out of the way, let's get to the first video that I want to tear apart. This one is about the auditions for a record deal. I will get to the video about a kid wanting to be a host of a radio show later.

To sum up the first video, a plus-size white woman (Krissy Elliot) is singing for an agent (Isaac) and his assistant (Evette) so she can follow her dream to become a singer. Isaac cuts Krissy off to viciously bash her for being a plus-size woman. Evette stands up for this woman, and says she sounded fine and to let her finish. Isaac doesn't listen to Evette, let alone take what she said into consideration. He continues to ridicule Krissy for her appearance, that she'll "never make it in the music industry" (WRONG, do you know how many plus-size people are in the fucking music industry? There are A LOT more now than when I was growing up and it honestly makes me so happy. There were more plus-size people in the entertainment industry than in the music industry back then.), suggested that she "become a chef or a food critic" because she apparently loves being around food (being a chef or a food critic are noble professions, but NEVER fucking assume ANYONE'S relationships with food), to the point where Krissy left the room in tears.

Here are a few screenshots for context:

When this skinny, conventionally attractive woman (Jesse) comes in, Isaac's mood does a COMPLETE 180° and he's all sunshine and rainbows. Then right as soon as Jesse did her audition, Isaac is over the fucking moon, complimenting her physical appearance, treating her like an object, and signs her up for a record deal RIGHT AWAY. Pay attention to Isaac's facial expressions in one of these screenshots.

Evette suggests that they sign Krissy for a record deal instead. Because she was "the best singer they've had all day". Isaac, still all hot and bothered by a skinny, conventionally attractive woman that he's treating like an object, tells Evette that people like Krissy don't make it in the music industry because they're "overweight and unattractive", and is verbally aggressive towards her when she does nothing but explain her stance. Isaac sees this as Evette "talking back" (remember how I mentioned that there's racial aggression? He says that Evette is "talking back" because she happens to be a black woman) and fires her. He signs Jesse a record deal and has a blast with her.

The award ceremony comes around, and they're picking a winner for Best New Artist. They pick the winner, and it's....guess what? You'll never get it! It's Krissy Elliot! Why? Because Evette became her agent after Isaac fired her. Krissy goes into her whole story about how she was laughed out of every single agency and that she worked hard. Good for her. Jesse is obviously very happy for Krissy. We gotta love women supporting women.

This video was again another dumpster fire. As usual. Like I said, with this video in particular, I couldn't get through the first thirty seconds the first time around. Because I've dealt with shit like this. Obviously not with the music industry because I don't even think I'd be good enough to step into an agency...but I mean in my personal life.

Being told by my own dad that he was "tired of buying bigger clothes for me" when I was a young teenager, despite him buying almost nothing but "junk food".

Having my abuser make comments about my weight and talking about diets while I'm trying to eat my food, despite her being overweight.

Having someone I know (not anyone I'm friends with) make a comment about me eating a few things (ONE small piece of broccoli, two baby carrots, a small handful of chips, and ONE small piece of pineapple) and said to "save some for everyone else", even though I was saving food for everyone else, which is why I took so little. She tried to justify it with the fact nobody was there yet (why do you think I took very little food?), and she "was saying that to everyone" (why did she look at ME when she said that instead of making it clear that she was talking to everyone [saying "Hey, everyone" before the comment about saving some for everyone else IS NOT HARD]?), even though I know it was just to save her own ass. I knew she said that to me because I'm plus-size. She didn't say anything to anyone else, nor did she make it clear that she was talking to everyone.

Another person I know (not a person I'm friends with) saying that I overreacted (I did not overreact; SOMEONE TRIGGERED ME and you did NOTHING about it) even though they all KNEW my relationship with food is complicated. They KNEW that I don't really like eating in front of other people. I was upset that someone MADE A FUCKING DISGUSTING, TRIGGERING COMMENT ABOUT ME EATING VERY FEW FOOD ITEMS, ALMOST ALL WERE HEALTHY, DESPITE OTHER PEOPLE EATING A LOT MORE THAN I DID AND PICKING AT EVERYTHING. That day, I was begging one of my friends (one of the people I trust to eat around) to PLEASE take me home because I didn't want to be there (never wanted to be there in the first place), I was tired (I worked all night the night before and was forced to go to a meeting before all this happened), I didn't feel comfortable there anymore, there were way too many people (four individuals plus all their staff from another house were in the house I work in), I couldn't breathe (I was either about to pass out, have a panic attack, or just start crying), but nobody listened to me. I ended up getting a bus to go home.

(Sorry about all that. I was trying not to get emotional in this post. I just needed to share how this can affect people.)

Onto my response, which is all in the screenshots below.

ETA: I know the screenshots for my response are very jumbled right now and it’s difficult to read. I apologize to anyone who’s unable to fully read it! Because this is part one of this whole subject of fatphobia (I’m making a post about the boy wanting to become a radio host very soon), my response here will tie into that post. My response to that video is vastly the same, despite not making a comment on that video as of right now (the radio host one). 

I’ll be typing out my full response here. I apologize for weird formatting. Instagram wouldn’t let me break up my response into paragraphs. I’ll break them up into paragraphs here instead.

CC (Combination of the first, second, and third screenshots, aka, the first part of my response):

 I have a few questions before I get into my thoughts on this video. One, how the hell does your weight have any significance on your worth as a person, and if you do think this way, why would you think that? Two, do you know that fatphobia is a lot more than just judging a person for being fat? Three, why do you feel like you can speak for fat people like myself with this piss poor excuse for a video that I could barely get through the first thirty seconds of the first time? 

You can’t speak for any of us. I can’t speak for every fat person because not everyone has the same experiences as me. 

I’ve been bullied for my weight in real life as well as online. People have called me ugly just because of my weight. By the way, your weight doesn’t equal beauty, and that’s what I’m still learning. Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. 

On quite a few occasions, I have actually thought about doing dangerous things to my body that I don’t feel comfortable going into here. All because I had people try to boil me down to my weight, call me ugly, and destroy whatever self-esteem I had left. You don’t know what fat people go through, so don’t act like you do. 

There are many factors that go into why a person may be fat, including medical conditions, mental illness, trauma, genetics, etc. All of those things are none of your business unless those people decide to be open about it. 

No, it’s not always healthy to be fat (obviously there are extremities on both sides of the spectrum of weight that are extremely unhealthy), but it doesn’t make a person any less of a human being. Fat people are human too. Quit treating us like we’re not. We deserve to be treated like everyone else who isn’t fat. I’m not saying put all fat people on a pedestal. I’m saying treat us like human beings.

CC (Combination of the fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh screenshots, aka, the second part of my response):

Remember how I said that fatphobia isn’t just about judging people for being fat? Well, there’s the “fat tax” on plus-size clothing (even though it maybe only costs a little bit more in fabric, if there’s any difference in making clothes for people who aren’t fat), limited styles for fat people in stores (making a lot of us have to buy fast fashion or have to spend a fortune on clothes that actually flatter us), not very many stores have inclusive sizes still (if you don’t at least carry max 5XL or a size 38/40 in pants size, you cannot call yourself inclusive), and a lot of other things.

Many fat people, myself included, are afraid to seek medical attention for anything (even checkups) because of doctors who only focus on our weight and not on what we came in to see them for. They write it off as if our weight is the sole cause of our problems, which isn’t always the case.

How about we talk about how expensive it is to eat healthy in a lot of places? Not everyone can afford to make fresh meals every day, let alone once a week. Maybe they were never taught how to due to their upbringing. You don’t know.

I’ve had people comment on my weight, what I’m eating (even if I’m eating something healthy like fruits and veggies), talk about my weight or diets EVEN WHILE I’M TRYING TO EAT, and it’s caused me to wait until I’m alone or around someone I trust to eat anything. As a result, I have a complicated relationship with food now.

Telling someone they’re fat doesn’t help them. They know that. They see themselves every day. People may want to change, but they either are afraid to ask for help, or they don’t know where to start. Some may not want to change. It’s up to them, honestly. If you want to help them lose weight, maybe suggest any physical activity they’d have fun doing and do them with them? I dance for fun. Also, you could help set up meal plans with them. 

If you’re not going to at least try to help them lose weight if you’re so concerned about them (this is all if they actually want to change things and don’t know where to start), I cannot say this in a sweeter way: shut your mouth and mind your own business. Because you’re just being a cunt at that point.

CC (eighth screenshot, aka, the third and final part to my response):

There are quite a few plus-size people in the entertainment industry as a whole who are/were very successful. Remember the late Chris Farley and Aretha Franklin? Chris Farley was big, but that didn’t change how great of an actor he was, how funny he was, or how much of an impact he made in the entertainment industry. Aretha Franklin was a plus-size black woman in the music industry, but she’s inspired SO MANY artists we have today! There are many plus-size men, women, and I believe even nonbinary people in the public eye in general. Like I’ve said, beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. That’s why the body positivity and body neutrality movements are a thing.

(I know I implied that I thought about sh here in my response, but please don't worry about me as far as that goes. I'm fine now. I would never go through with anything like that.)

In the last part of my response where I mentioned some plus-size people in the entertainment industry as well as the music industry (the late Chris Farley and the late Aretha Franklin), I was going to name more people, but my comments were getting too long. I'll name some more here off the top of my head:

Lizzo (rapper), the Piggy Dolls (the first K-Pop girl group made up of actual plus-size women), K*v*n Sp*c*y (I don't feel comfortable saying his name because he's a disgusting person, but he's another plus-size man...he was in King of Queens and in A LOT of movies), PSY, Greyson Gritt (a genderqueer person in the music industry), Elle King, Produce Pandas (the first music group in China full of plus-size men), Martha Wash, Chubby Checker, Fats Domino, Big Angel (a J-Pop group of all plus-size women), Chubbiness (another J-Pop group of all plus-size women), Pottya (another J-Pop group of all plus-size women)...there are so many that I found, but if you want to add more plus-size artists, plus-size actors, plus-size comedians/comediennes, feel free to add them in the comments!

Dhar Mann, you'll never know what plus-size people go through. You don't know what we go through. You have NO IDEA what we go through on a daily basis. Stop acting like you do. Because you don't, and you never will.

By the way, Dhar Mann, this will NOT be the last post I'll make about you or your videos. The more you make fucking deplorable, poorly written bullshit, the more posts I'll make! Teehee!

If you got this far, thank you so much. The next part of this is coming very soon. I'm sorry for not posting too many screenshots from the video. I wanted to fit in my response because it's important for people to see.

Have a good day/afternoon/night, y'all. Love you!

[saintqueer]

On Being 13

by saintqueer

Date Written: July 2019

CW: brief mention of an eating disorder

I will be posting a series of old creative nonfiction essays I wrote in 2019-20 every Friday and tagging them #a saintqueer original. Some might be a little outdated but I'm getting my feet wet in the experience of sharing my own writing again. Hope you enjoy! My inbox is always open.

Your name is Jordan. It is 2006 and you just turned 13. You are officially a teenager. Not a preteen. Nor god-forbid a tween. You’re in eighth grade at middle school in the Bay Area suburbs and you just got your first cell phone. It’s a silver LG flip phone without a camera. Modern social media has been born but is not yet widespread. Myspace and AIM are still the name of the game. And your friend’s Top 8s are literally worth crying over. You buy songs you like on iTunes for 99 cents. Songs like Far Away by Nickelback and Jesus, Take the Wheel by Carrie Underwood. That is, until you wizen up and start using LimeWire in 2007. By that time, you’ll think your tastes much improved. You’ll illegally download songs like Buy U a Drank by T-Pain, Wait For You by Elliott Yamin, and everything Chris Brown puts out. Every single feeling you have is so large it’s like it has the potential to kill you. Weird shit is happening to your body. You started puberty early but it shows absolutely no sign of stopping. Things just seem to be getting weirder and more emotional. You cut your own side bangs and they look hella cool.

Ok, let’s pause there. I’m gonna go ahead and break the fourth wall here. Reader, I was planning on doing this entire piece as a kind of immersive second person experience. But. I. Just. Can’t. It’s too hard and writing about being 13 is difficult enough. I think that intro was enough to get you in the right head space of Jordan circa 2006-2007.

Over the last year, there has been more truthful explorations of the adolescent experience in media than ever before. With shows like Pen15 and Big Mouth and films like Eighth Grade, I feel like for the first time I’m starting to come to terms with my own adolescence. Being 13 is really fucking hard. And 13-year-olds get such a bad rap when, honestly, they’re just trying to do the best they can with all the shit they’ve been thrown.

I first felt compelled to write this piece when reading a section of a book from my favorite podcaster, Karen Kilgariff. Karen describes a lecture series she went to in which one of the presenters made a case in defense of 13 year olds. Karen writes that being 13 “is the hardest age you ever have to be because of all the chemicals and hormones constantly raging through your body. It’s like you’re being drugged and then woken up with speed on a daily basis. All social structure implodes and resets itself in a totally unfamiliar way. You’re simultaneously the oldest version of a child and the youngest version of an adult, so you don’t belong anywhere. You don’t get babied, and you don’t get respect.” Basically, it fucking sucks!!!

At 13, my eating disorder was already in full swing and my body-dysmorphia-riddled brain had no shortage of reasons for why my life would be so much better if I weighed 25 pounds less. They would weigh us in gym class, one by one, and assign us our BMI classification (mine was “overweight”). I was constantly dieting, with resounding approval from family and peers; starving my growing body of whole food groups and then binging. My school used to sell these pizza hot pocket things in plastic wrapping called pizza sticks (they were so DELICIOUS). One time, I found an unopened and still-warm pizza stick on the floor next to a garbage can. Wildly hungry from my meager carb-less lunch I picked it up off the floor and shoved it into my mouth, facing the wall, in as few bites as possible so no one would see. OFF THE FLOOR…OUTSIDE. I think it was on a pile of leaves and other trash (though unopened, it was slightly flattened on one side so it might have been stepped on?). This is actually the first time I’ve told anyone that I did that. Blogging is fun.

I was truly beginning to understand that my body was a commodity in society. I couldn’t take up space as a girl and to be beautiful was to be frail. My body was a sexual thing but I was not allowed to be a sexual being. Boys were the horny ones, not girls. But boy, was I! The thing was I couldn’t tell anyone, only the bathtub faucet could know. This was heightened all the more by my church and my faith. Youth group taught me the importance of dressing modestly and how we had to do everything within our power to help easily tempted boys remain sexually pure. I had so much shame that I had any kind of sexuality at all.

A majority of us wanted to fit in when we were 13. And I wanted it desperately. It’s not necessarily that I wanted to be cool, it’s more like I just wanted to belong. I wanted to have best friends. I wanted boys to have crushes on me. I wanted to be wanted. And it never happened for me. I didn’t develop deep lasting friendships until my late teens. I didn’t have my first kiss until I was 21, for god’s sake. My friends at 13 were changeable and excluding. I felt like I was constantly vying for their approval and as I entered high school in 2007, my social life became the center of my world.

Admittedly, high school felt much more enjoyable than middle school. I had established my place in the cool crowd and shirked academics. I stopped listening to Christian Rock and started listening to Lil Wayne and learning how to twerk. I cut class with a friend to straighten my hair with my hot pink straightener in Starbucks. I got in trouble with the cops for underage drinking. I got better at actually starving myself for a few days at a time instead of just dieting. I was significantly better at swearing. However, every single thing still felt like the biggest deal ever and it felt like it would always be that way.

Now, over a dozen years later, I hardly ever think about how it felt to be 13. I always forget that I “fell in love” with a boy named Alex at church summer camp who I saw from afar five times and talked to once for two minutes. It’s hard to believe now that I wrote his name in sharpie on my converse sneakers and sang I Drive Myself Crazy by *Nsync while crying and staring directly back at myself in the mirror.

This might seem unforgiving but I feel like the one redeemable thing about being 13 is that it doesn’t last forever. It ends. You grow and you change and you work through your trauma. If you’re lucky, you get better friends and you go to therapy and do some healing over ten years later by watching tv shows and movies that remind you of every painful feeling. Then you look back and laugh. You laugh at that school dance where Peter said he’d never, ever slow dance with you. You laugh at the school dance less than a year later where you grind provocatively on a dude you don’t know to Get Low by Lil Jon and the Ying Yang Twins. You laugh (hysterically, I might add) at eating that pizza stick off the floor. You laugh at smoking weed for the first time using a plastic water bottle your friend somehow turned into a shitty bong. You laugh at shoplifting your first thong from Ross. You laugh at your self-cut side bangs. You laugh and you laugh and you laugh and then you, finally, move on.

[justasimplesinner]

Christmas fluff with Jonathan Crane

this is a bday present to the one and only @froppydeloppy i hope you’ll enjoy it darl! i tried to make it extra fluffy, but - because i’m a dumb bitch - there’s a sprinkle of angst. with happy ending tho!

***

          Stressful - that's the only way to describe what was going on right now. Everyone was in a rush, some buying late Christmas presents, some just panicking over every little imperfection in their perfect little world. Streets were filled with busy crowds, bright lights and loud noise consisting of but not limited to shouts, cars honking and children screaming bloody murder in the best of ways. It could get overwhelming sometimes, this whole Christmas frenzy going on all around the world. But in your home? It was calm. 

Supper was almost ready, batches of cookies laid out on the coffee table along with a bottle of wine, and the smell of hot cocoa filled the room. The fireplace was burning, some of the decorations you put days back shining with the firelight and dim but colorful light coming from your little tree. It wasn't big or fancy or bright-colored enough to cause an epilepsy attack, but it was lovely and perfect as it was - especially since you decorated it with him. 

Jonathan was currently sitting in the armchair he claimed as his, long legs stretched out, book in hand, in an oversized turtleneck sweater and you'd lie if you said it wasn't the best view. The way light reflected in his glasses and the gentle glow that got caught on his sharp cheekbones, boney, slender fingers unconsciously caressing the edge of his thick volume - that habit more often than not led to hundreds of little papercuts littering his skin, a quiet, muttered "shit!" as he put the "wounded" digit up to his lips to ease the pain.

It was the little things about him that always brought a smile to your face - or any things, really, as long as they were about him.

– How much longer do you plan to stare at me? – he drawled from his spot, a small smile clear in his voice, as your own grin got that little bit wider at hearing his nasally voice.

– As long as it takes for you to finally pay attention to me. – you mused playfully, resting your chin on your hand. You never ceased your staring. He never got back to his book. 

Instead, he carefully placed an old receipt he used as a bookmark between the pages, and with utter gentleness closed it shut then put it down on the pile next to him. Half of his lanky body leaned out of the armchair as he copied your position and looked you in the eyes with that smirk you'd never get enough of.

– Your dinner is going to burn. – amusement laced his words as his eyes bore into your own. His gaze was always intense, always calculating but never cold - not to you, at least. You liked to believe that the way he looked at you was with love, but with him, it was hard to tell. It has, after all, been almost three years and he still had trouble saying it out loud.

But you knew he cared, and he cared deeply. Deep enough to sit here with you, today, and let you pamper him for once. Deep enough to be comfortable with you, let himself relax and stop being paranoid for once in his life.

– It's your dinner too, jackass. You promised you'd stay for once. – you chuckled, scrunching your nose up at him before kissing the bridge of his own and getting up. You really had to check on that dinner - it'd be a shame if all the hard work you put in would be wasted just because you couldn't stop staring at the wanted criminal you were currently harboring in your house.

– And I intend to keep it. – it was unlike him to spill out reassurances so quickly and so honestly, but that didn't mean you didn't appreciate it. You were surprisied, yes, but ever grateful as well. The Christmas spirit was getting even to the biggest of grumps, it seemed.

– You better. I can't eat everything by myself and I made pumpkin pie for you. – you threatened jokingly, heading to the kitchen and it was a damn shame you didn't see the lovestruck smile on his face. But he only smiled like that when you weren't looking, after all.

          Taking out the meat from the oven, and putting a finishing touch on everything went smoothly and it didn't take long before every dish was placed on the table, cutlery got laid out and glasses were full of wine. You were just taking off your apron in the kitchen, about to join Jonathan and finally eat the goodies you made but his lanky frame blocking the doorway stopped you in your tracks.

God, he was so tall he had to lean down to even get through the door.

– What is it? – you asked, coming up to him, but he never stepped back from you like he usually did, didn't even budge and his eyes never strayed away from your own, that piercing gaze looking right into your soul. And once he deemed you near enough, you watched him straighten and if you weren't so close his forhead would be obscured by the doorframe.

It reminded you of the way he used to hit his head on the top of it the first few times he came over to your place. And it was only when you chuckled and slightly leaned your head back that you understood what he seemingly wanted to tell you without using a single word.

There was a mistletoe just above you. Funny, you didn't remember putting it there.

– You absolute sap. – you laughed, shaking your head as his smirk only grew in size and he leaned down, a little awkwardly since he insisted on keeping his hands in his pockets, to just a little above your eye level.

– Maybe I'm a hopeless romantic at heart, hm? – you almost snorted right in his face. Both of you knew he hated Romanticism and the mere idea of romance all together. Of course, what you two had definitely wasn't platonic, and you did love each other in a romantic sense (you hoped), but that didn't change anything.

– More like romantically hopeless. – and with that, you cupped his cheeks and pressed your lips to his, feeling him sigh into the kiss. Your noses bumped and he almost lost his balance but it was perfect nonetheless. 

Too bad you didn't have time for that since the food was getting cold.

          The dinner was pleasant. It didn't really feel special at all, but that's what made it even more perfect - Jonathan wasn't here, with you, because it was the right thing to do (pha! as if he cared about what was right or wrong), but because he wanted to be here. He wasn't here to celebrate anything, he was here for you and for you only and that in itself was the best Christmas gift you could ever wish for.

And speaking of gifts...

– This is way too big for me to be comfortable with it. – he complained, taking the carefully wrapped box from under the tree. You insisted on having the presents there - it was a tradition, one Jon probably never practiced, not even as a child. It might not bring him as much joy as it would to a six year old, but you wanted this to be the best Christmas in his miserable life.

– Oh, it's just the packaging. Stop complaining. – you laughed, rolling your eyes and sitting down on the floor next to where he was kneeling. After giving you a funny look, he sat down on the carpet as well, partly crossing his long legs so as not to kick the tree over.

That'd be a story to tell, for sure.

– If this is over twenty dollars, I'm not accepting it. – he warned, sending you a serious look but you only shook your head, pushing at his arm.

– Just open it, dammit! – you wanted to get this over with, because - despite everything - you were still nervous he wouldn't like it. Maybe it was too obvious? Maybe he already had it? Maybe he'd think you half-assed the whole thing? Good lord, it was stressful. Especially watching those spindly, skilled fingers carefully unwrapping the thing, almost teasingly slow. You didn't put it besides him to make you more nervous on purpose.

After all, you were scared. Scared of what he'd think. And that's what usually gets him going.

You almost swore his hands shook when he was lifting the lid of the box, as if he was expecting something to blow up in his face. Ah yes, the paranoia...

– A scarf. – he muttered and boy, wasn't it a careful observation on his part! You laughed quietly, heartbeat slowing a little. Of course it was a scarf, what else? But it was only a part of the present, too. He was in for a surprise.

– Well, I got tired from hearing your larynx screaming for help because you walk around with your neck bare. – you said with a wide smile, and it'd be a lie to say you weren't delighted to see him beaming back at you – C'mon, take it out! – you rushed and it was then that he froze as he tried to take it out and felt something... hard beneath it.

– For God's sake, there's more? I only got you one thing! – he whined loudly like a baby, and you just huffed, snuggling up closer to him to carefully watch his reaction as he got to the second part of your present.

– What can I say? I like to spoil. – you mused with a smile, cheek pressed to his shoulder but that only made him get more defensive.

– I'm not some child to be spoiled.

Well, from your point, he certainly looked like one.

With a nudge, you encouraged him to lift up the scarf and see what's under. And good lord when he ceased all movement along with his breathing, you had to admit you were kind of worried. Did you fuck up? Or did you take his breath away?

You watched his hands reluctantly reach inside the box and pull out that old Edgar Allan Poe tomme you had to hunt on the market. It was awfully hard to get your hands on the vintage collector's version with practically all his poems inside, and manage to restore it so it wasn't falling apart, but it was all worth that look of wonder on his face just now.

You didn't fuck up. You definitely didn't fuck up.

– It's... hardcover. – was all he muttered and you almost burst out laughing. Christ, that man was an absolute dork. Your dork.

– And collector's edition, too! I thought you'd like to have this on your shelf. – you gloated a little, puffing your chest with pride but were immediately stopped in your tracks when his lips suddenly landed on yours, pushing with force as his fingers clutched the book in his hands. 

Oh yes, that scavenging hunt was definitely worth it.

You cupped his cheeks gently, thumbs trailing over those razor sharp cheekbones as you kissed back and at the same time it felt like eternity and like it was way too soon when he pulled back from you.

– Thank you. – you felt that mutter against your lips before he leaned back all the way, eyes dragging back to his gift. Why were you even doubting yourself? You knew he'd love it. Once you took the time to get to know him properly, it wasn't that hard to know what he enjoyed most and what least.

– I'm afraid I can't live up to that with what I got you. – ah, there he went with all his self-doubt as if you didn't cherish everything he ever gave you.

– We'll see. – you said with a smirk, jumping under the tree to pull out your own gift. You weren't nearly as gentle while opening it - it wasn't often that Jonathan got you gifts and you were excited beyond imagination to see what he came up with.

          You really didn't want to admit it, but he was kind of right. You didn't know why you felt almost... disappointed when you opened the little box. But it was fine. It was practical and very well thought-out. Very useful during any emergencies.

It just... Well, he gave you the same thing almost every month and you thought... God, you were ungrateful, weren't you?

– For the latest batch? – you asked for confirmation, holding the syringe with that almost neon-y, bright blue liquid in your hands, not once tearing your eyes away from it. He cared for you and that's why he got you this - because no matter how much he enjoyed causing terror, he never wanted to harm you and wanted you to be safe.

So it was perfect. Yes, absolutely perfect.

– Mhmm. – he purred in confirmation and if you weren't so absorbed in your own thoughts, maybe you'd hear him shuffle carefully to sit behind you. And maybe he wouldn't have to press his lips to the back of your head for you to notice his hand that was holding something right in front of your face.

– There's also this, but that's just an addition. – he said nonchalantly and then your eyes landed on the necklace tangled around his fingers, pure silver crow skull dangling in front of your nose with the smallest, but most shining of gems ingrained in the middle of it's little forhead.

– Oh-... my god?! It's beautiful, Jonathan! – you part squealed, part laughed in utter joy as your hands came up to the pendant, gentle as ever as you cupped it in your palm and he let the chain slowly slither into your other hand.

And he must've picked up on that well-hidden relief, too, since he laughed in your ear, nuzzling your temple as he said:

– I know I'm a bastard, but not that much of a bastard.

With that stunt he pulled, you weren't entirely sure.

– Thank you. – you breathed, discarding that comment aside and leaning back into him, feeling his heartbeat pounding. Oh, so he was nervous too, huh? Served him well for tricking you like this.

– No, thank you. – he muttered, and it felt so... heavy coming from him that you had to turn your head around on his shoulder to look him in the eye. You immediately knew what he meant.

– You don't have to thank me for spending time with you. I love it, and I love you, Jon. – it was almost sad, seeing him averting his eyes right after you said that. You'd never get him used to hearing it, to knowing that there was actually someone out there that could love him like you did. It got tiring, sometimes - that constant doubt, the trust issues, and especially that paranoia of his, but it was a part of him and you loved it as much as the rest.

You just hoped some day he could accept it, too. And maybe, just maybe... say it back for once.

–  I know, I know, it's just... – he decided to ramble instead, and you let him – I've never really had a "nice" christmas. Of course, there was this one time Harley insisted on a "rogues get-together", and I even partly enjoyed that evening, not counting in Nigma's blabbering and Joker's... being himself, but... it's different with you. I don't mean that in the bad way. It's... I like it.

It's not like you cried a little and like he clung onto you for dear life while he was saying it all. It's not like you both stayed tangled like that on the floor long enough for your asses to hurt. No, of course not. 

          You were almost asleep, lulled by his slow, steady breathing and his heartbeat under your ear as his arm pressed you to his side while he read his newest volume, when he pressed his face into your hair, nuzzling a little.

– I love you too, you know that, right? 

Well... now you did.

Last thing you remembered was hearing his quiet chuckle when you squeezed him tight like a vice before falling asleep in his arms.

[binniedeactivated]

saint. || soobin (3.1)🌪

pairing: soobin x reader genre: au  word count; 3k

“wow, you’ve really been studying a lot haven’t you?”. you say, seeing soobin’s notebook splayed out on the bed filled with notes that you had no supervision on. you were shocked to know that he took the time to study by himself. he was really taking things seriously. soobin nods, 

“i want to pass”. 

“it sure looks like it. you’re going to do more than pass with all this knowledge”. 

soobin laughs, “good. maybe I’ll earn the ski trip”. 

“ski trip?”. you question, having absolutely no clue as to what he was referring to. 

“yeonjun told me that everyone who does good on the exams earns a ski trip as an incentive”. 

you were kind of amazed, “wow. that sounds fun. when did our school start doing stuff like that? they must really want us to pass”. 

“definitely. and I think if everyone doesn’t do well the school’s going to be shut down. so I already know my parents are to blame”. 

you roll your eyes and smile a bit, writing down your chemistry notes to study. “must be nice having money”. 

“stop saying that. you have money too now”. 

“really? where?”. 

“right here”. 

you shake your head and laugh. soobin eyes you before going back to write his notes. 

“seriously why don’t you ask me for money? you never ask”. 

“you want me to?”.

soobin nods as if it were a stupid question. “yes”. 

“why?”. 

“because why not? I think every boyfriend does”.

“I love how you just call yourself my boyfriend in front of my mom and now that counts as us being an official couple”. 

soobin laughs and takes your hand. you look at him like he was the biggest joke in the world. “what are you doing?”. you say trying not to laugh. soobin was holding in laughter also while attempting to look at you seriously in your eyes. 

“do you want to be my girlfriend?”.

“i hate you soobin”. you laugh. 

“I’m serious I’m serious stop making me laugh”. 

you roll your eyes playfully. “fine. I guess I can be your girlfriend”. 

“good. are we an official couple now?”. 

you sigh scrawling your pen against your paper pretending to be frustrated. “I guess we are an official couple now soobin”. 

“you’re always trying to act like you don’t like me”. soobin laughs again, flipping his notebook page to finish the rest of the notes on the backside. 

“because if i act like I’m in love with you then things will be cringy”.

soobin lays his head on his hand, staring at you. 

“are you in love with me?”. 

you try not to blush. keeping your eyes on your own paper. his stare was eating you alive. 

“of course not”. you mumble jokingly. soobin chuckles. 

“your first time lying to me and this is what you waste it on?”.

you continue laughing leaving his rhetorical question floating in the air. he was still staring at you lovingly. 

“tell me the truth. because I’m in love with you. and I’m not afraid to admit it”.

“why are you in love with me? I’m not shaming you I just kind of find it odd--I’m just a church girl. living a normal middle class teenage catholic life. there’s nothing special about me. and here you are every girl’s dream. you’re rich. good looking. everyone wants to be you. why me? I’m nothing”.

“do you really think I can fall in love with someone whose nothing?”. 

you sigh. “I don’t want to put all my eggs in one basket. I’m scared of getting my hopes up and then one day you just leave. there’s so many girls out there that’s better. look better and dress better. and you can get with every single one of them if you wanted”. you ranted and you didn’t mean to take it this far but it’s honestly how you felt. you couldn’t help it. 

soobin presses his warm hand against your cheek. “why are you getting so upset, princess?”. 

“I don’t know”. you utter being swarmed in a sea of vulnerability. 

“I’m not going to leave you. and if I did who would I even leave you for? some girl who only wants sex and clout from me?”.

“what about the ones who are looking for a relationship?”.

“I’m too in love to care”. 

you sigh again, giving him pitiful eyes. being the cheesy person he was leans in and kisses you. that didn’t stop you from liking it though. 

“I only want you i swear. now please admit to being in love with me because I’m tired of waiting for your answer”. soobin says gradually laughing. you smile a bit breaking out of your sadness. his reassurance was what you needed. to be this deep into a relationship and him leaving you? it was your biggest fear. 

“I may or may not be”. you joked. soobin sucks his teeth playfully. 

“fine don’t admit it then. guess you won’t be getting a car for Christmas”. 

“soobin?”. 

“yes?”. he grinned while continuing his notes, knowing he caught you by surprise there. 

“a car?!”. 

“you heard me”. 

“don’t buy me that it’s way too expensive”.

“i’m totally going to obey your command”. 

“soobin I’m serious”. 

“so am I”. 

“how am I even going to explain that to my parents? they’re going to think I did something for it”. 

“something like what?”. soobin asks knowing exactly what you were getting at. 

“you know. they’re going to think I had sex with you or something for you to buy me such expensive gifts”. soobin waited and laughed once you finally said it. 

“that’s hot. they think you’re like a little churchy prostitute”. you childishly punch his arm. “that’s hot to you?”. 

“if it’s you doing it then yes”. 

“how is having sex with someone for gifts and money hot?”.

“I just like the idea of you being a whore for me”.

you laugh, wondering what else went on in soobin’s mind. 

“you know--like the outfit you wore when you came over my house for the first time--god i wanted to devour you”. 

“oh yeah? why didn’t you say anything?”.

“because you were most likely going to punch me. you didn’t know me yet”. 

“I still don’t. I’m still learning”. 

yeah, but you know enough about me now”. 

“I wouldn’t say all that. how do I know you’re not some serial killer deep down?”. 

“you sat on my face last night I’m pretty sure that whole ‘secretly a serial killer’ bullshit is out the window at this point”. 

you laugh loudly, “soobin!”. 

“you also didn’t call me soobin you called me daddy”. 

“alright that’s enough!”. the both of you laugh in perfect sync. interrupting it was his mother obnoxiously calling him from downstairs. soobin promises you his return before he goes to stand at the top of the stairs answering her. 

“yes?”. he says kind of annoyed. 

“me and your father have a conference to attend. our flight leaves soon. if I come back and find out you’ve studied nothing words can’t explain your punishment. don’t just sit around this house making nothing of yourself”. 

soobin rolls his eyes, “where is your conference being held?”.

“france”.

“for how long this time?”. 

“why are you asking meaningless questions? did you hear what I said?”.

“it’s not meaningless if you guys just came back and spent less than 8 hours in the house with me before you leave again”. 

“soobin don’t start. we’re leaders and we are also missionaries. you know what is required of us”. 

“what about me?”. 

“what about you? study and make yourself useful for something soobin. we were glad finally seeing you out with the sports team and doing things that don’t require a suspension”. 

soobin’s breathing pattern changes swiftly. he could hear the nonchalantness in her tone and he hated it with a passion. 

“study and make myself useful and then what? so you both can come home and beat me and yell at me anyways?”. 

his fathers enters the foyer pointing his finger up at soobin. 

“watch your volume”. 

“for what! for what whose going to hear me?”. 

“for respect soobin! don’t make me come up these stairs”. his father threatens. 

“why should I respect you both if you guys barely respect me?!”. 

“what are you talking about you have a house to live in don’t you? you have cars you have nice clothes you have gourmet food to eat and your bank account surpasses any number of ever seen in my life. you have nothing to complain about you need to be grateful!”. his mother spat. 

“yes you’re right thank you mom thank you dad for subtracting the parental love I could’ve gotten in my life and supplementing it with material things! I appreciate it so much!”.

“what did I tell you about saying that? huh?! we love you. this is tough love”. his father replies. soobin ball his fists. 

“that’s bullshit you’re only saying that because you don’t want anyone in this town to know that the two people they respect so much don’t give a damn about their son! half the shit that you do you only do it so I can never say that I don’t have anything”.

“soobin watch your mouth!”. he father growls. 

“it’s true just fucking admit it and stop getting angry!”

soobin spat harshly and his dad was about to take off up the stairs in a fit of rage until his mother pulled him back. 

“our flight leaves in less than a half hour we have to be at the airport. we can deal with him later”. his dad nods and points his finger at soobin again. 

“consider yourself lucky”. he stated before clutching his suitcase. his mom clutches hers and they both approach the door. she shoots a disgusting look at him. 

“maybe this getaway will help you clean up your act”. she muttered and closed the door behind him.

“What about me!?”. soobin stands at the top of the stairs still yelling.

“your getaways don’t help! they never fucking did!”. he could feel his heart racing and his cheeks growing hot.

“just say you don’t really love me. thats all you have to do”. he croaks without even realizing he was crying. 

you’d been in his room overhearing the whole argument but unable to come out due to you not supposed to even being there in the first place. so you kept silent until you heard the front door shut. you snuck out of soobin’s bedroom to see him down the hallway still yelling, so it was hard to tell if it’s parents really left or not. you approach his tall frame timidly, touching his shoulder. 

“soobin?”. he palms his face sniffling. you wrap your arms around his torso and glance up at him. 

“it’s going to be okay alright? they don’t deserve you. you’ve made mistakes in your life and sure you weren’t the best behaved kid but you are still theirs and they should treat you as such”. 

“I hate them. I fucking hate them both”. 

“soobin don’t say that”. 

“I will say it. because they don’t care about me”.

“look at me”. 

soobin sighs, removing his hands from his wet eyes to glare down at you. he looked so miserable when he cried and you hated it. you’d only ever like to see him happy and laughing. this was cruel. 

“I’m in love with you, okay?”. you say, reaching up to help him dry his eyes. 

“do you mean that?”. he replies. 

“yes I do mean it”. 

“good because I fucking knew it”. soobin admits with a straight face until you playfully slap his chest and laugh. it was a relief to see his reddened face contort into a smile. 

╲╱❀╲╱╲╱❀╲╱╲╱❀╲╱

“babe! hurry up!”. soobin yells from the living room couch. he had the movie ready and he was just waiting for you to cuddle with him. you figured you couldn’t leave him alone while he felt like this. so you gave your parents your usual excuse for being out so late. 

you promised soobin you’d do anything to help him feel better and guess what he requested? you guessed it. 

four peanut butter and jelly sandwiches specially made by you. and of course the big baby was being impatient. you rushed and slabbed the layer of peanut butter on the last slice and sat all the sandwiches on the plate. 

you carefully walked into the living room with it and soobin started the movie. you sat criss-crossed between his legs on the couch, trying to hand the plate off to him. 

“feed me”, he begs. you turn your body and face him. “you’re a big baby do you know that?”. soobin smirks knowingly. you rip a piece of one sandwich and hold it up to his lips which he munches on adorably. you feed him a few more pieces and watch the crumbs fall from his lips. 

“you’re the only person I know that can get fed and still make a mess”. you use a hand to dust the crumbs off of his lips and hoodie. 

“you’re such a mom”. 

“and you’re such a baby”. 

“your baby right?”. you sigh trying not to blush once again. 

“cmon. it’s okay to admit it”. 

“I’m not going to make things cringy soobin”. you mumble and he immediately tackles you down on the couch playfully. 

“soobin you’re going to make me drop all of these sandwiches on the floor!”. you laugh.

“admit I’m your baby”. he laughs. 

he face was inches from yours. he looked so cute and cuddly in his big sweater and hood over his head. you pulled one of his drawstrings. 

“fine. you’re my baby”. soobin smiles and softly kisses you. 

“you forgot to get me something to drink with my food. I’m going to suffocate from this peanut butter”. 

you laugh, “you didn’t ask for anything to drink”. 

“I know. I should’ve asked for milk”.

“see, that’s your mistake not mine”. 

soobin thinks for a moment before grinning. “i mean--if i wanted some milk I can just--”. he interrupted himself just to snake his hand up your shirt and massage your boob. you cackled loudly. 

“soobin!”. 

and your mornings were usual. this time around though you were encouraging soobin. he’d be taking his first history exam today. 

“remember you got this. you are smart. you can do anything and you studied really hard for this”. you remind prior to kissing him. “I believe in you”. you added. you went into your classroom and let soobin put his skills to the test. he was even more inspired now that he had you rooting for him. 

“I tried to call you yesterday but either your phone was dead or you didn’t pay your phone bill”. taehyun admitted. 

“my phone bill is paid. my phone was probably dead”. you lied. you were declining his calls to keep from soobin’s wrath. 

“we can study today after school if you’re down. I don’t have anything to do and plus the exam is coming up soon”. 

damn. you couldn’t say no to his face. could you? 

“yeah that’s fine. library?”. you ask. 

“yeah that’s cool”. taehyun shortly replies. all the while you were wondering how the hell you were going to continue studying with taehyun behind soobin’s back. it wasn’t like you were cheating on him or anything. just studying. maybe soobin was being too overprotective. 

soobin adjusts his backpack strap and attempts recalling his notes in his head while he walked to his classroom. 

“ayo? you ready?”. yeonjun asked catching up to him

“hell yeah. I actually studied”.

“good. I uhh- kind of have some news for you though”. 

“what is it?”. 

“they found more evidence on the hotel case”.

“shit. why the hell would you tell me that right now?”.

“I’m trying to tell you all the shit I know before anything comes up later so you can be prepared”. 

“how do you know this shit anyways? do you have a part time job at the police station or something?”. 

“I have my connections. and i’ve been following it to make sure they don’t try and frame me”. 

“why would they frame you?”. 

yeonjun shrugs, “I was acting pretty hostile during interrogation. but still”.

“I don’t have time for this shit”. 

“yeah that’s probably why you still haven’t told your girlfriend”.

“don’t start yeonjun”. 

yeonjun shrugs again, “I’m just saying. you keep dragging this shit out she’s going to fuck around and leave you”. 

[kimikitty96]

Goodbye Letter to my Eating Disorder

It’s been hard. The past 3 years were so difficult, I’m surprised I haven’t completely lost myself. From having relationship problems, to deaths in my family (my brother and kitty died), to being sexually assaulted in the gym, to almost losing my mom this past year...suffice it to say, it’s been rather difficult. 

I turned to my old “friend”, Edward. We “met” when I was 8 years old, and lost touch when I started working at 21 years old. Or, at least I thought we lost touch; he just put on a mask. But here he was again. He was there for me when I was struggling the most. No one else understood my pain the way he did, and no one numbed me like he did. He gave me the drive and motivation to get out of bed and to go to the gym; he kept me from faltering on my diet and turn to comfort eating; he continued to cheer me on when I made mistakes and would tell me to keep going. When I have injuries, he’d tell me that my initial weight loss was not due to me exercising, but my eating habits and to not worry, I can still continue! When I got sexually assaulted at my gym, he said to me that I never have to go back to that gym, and that I can go anywhere else to get my “Brazilian Booty”. He suggested I take a trip to Vegas and just enjoy myself, then come back and get serious.

He comforted me when my fiance would reject me, saying if I listened to him, I won’t need my fiance because I’d be able to attract the guy I really wanted, that all I needed was a little push. When my kitty passed away, Edward allowed me to grieve and to celebrate her life by going to a buffet and enjoying seafood, on one condition: I had to make sure that I was right back on track by making sure that I would “let my body rest” from food for a couple of days.

Last July (2019), I went into PHP because I knew something was seriously wrong. Edward was no longer helping me. His voice grew louder in my head, and what used to be gentle nudging became more forceful, more frustrated. Here was his evolution:

-”Oh, you want carbs? Well, that’s okay! You can have carbs and use it as energy for the gym when doing cardio/lower body workout tomorrow! Just make sure you lower your fat intake, okay?”

-”Yes! There’s a food festival! Make sure you get your 10k steps before you go, okay? We’ll eat everything we want, just like those fitness people do on YouTube! You’ve earned it!”

-”Oh, you gained weight...again. I mean...maybe you should lower your calories again. You’re eating a bit more than you’re supposed to, so just make sure your weekly calories are where they’re supposed to be.”

-”Lord, you failed an exam??? Okay, you need to hit the gym harder so you can focus better.”

-”[Fiance] refused to touch you again? It’s been a month since the last time? Why do you even want him to touch you at this point? You should just think about that guy who molested you at the gym, since that’s all you can get at this point.”

“You failed another exam? Jesus christ, you need to focus harder. You’ll never finish community college and get into [#1 dream school] if you continue like this! But if you let your body rest from food, you’ll have mental clarity and will remember your course material better.”

-”Oh, fiance said no to you again. You really need to stop having these “cheat days” or “cheat meals”. He’s getting more and more grossed out by you every day.”

-“Why can’t you just stop eating the junk foods you’re eating? You were able to do it before. You’re so stupid, you can’t even get this right. You know what? I’m going to test your willpower. Go out and buy junk food, and stare at it and say no!”

-”See, he’s flirting with so many other women at his work. This is why he won’t touch you. You’re stupid and ugly; you’re worth nothing unless you are at the top of your class, and weigh less than [UGW]!”

-”Why can’t you stop eating?!?! Why do you have the willpower of a drug addict?! You’re nothing! Get rid of that! You don’t deserve your meal! GET RID OF IT NOW!”

-”JESUS CHRIST, YOU ARE FUCKING STUPID! IT’S YOUR FAULT YOUR FIANCE DON’T WANT YOU! YOU’RE WORTH LESS THAN NOTHING! YOU DESERVED BEING GROPED AT THE GYM BECAUSE THAT IS YOUR WORTH!”

-”See? You failed a class you already took! This is how stupid and [ableist expletive] you are. You can’t even do that shit right. YOU ARE NOTHING. YOU HAVE NEGATIVE WORTH.”

-”Your brother died because he had diabetes. Your mother almost died because of diabetes. They couldn’t control; the shit they put in their mouths, and you will end up with the same fate because your dumb ass can’t even say no to a chip.”

-”Oh, you lost another friend? That’s because you’re a piece of shit. You’ve always been a piece of shit. You deserve to be alone. No one should be subjected to the bullshit that is you. You should just KYS.”

-”No, you can’t have that! You can’t touch food unless I say so! I don’t care that it’s been a week!”

-”No don’t touch food! It’s all poison! It’s going to kill you! Look what it did to your mom and brother! You’re gonna lose your dad too because all food is poison! DON’T TOUCH ANY FOODSTUFFS!!!”

*Me, fainting, at home alone, because I haven’t eaten in a week and my heart rate is in the low 50′s*

-”Why are you being an attention whore? Stop your bitch ass whining and go pee.”

*My response* “Bitch, there’s no one here! Who am I being an attention whore to, my cats?!”

-”Yes! Now stop being a whiny bitch and go pee!”

-”Why are you still here? Why aren’t you doing everyone on this earth a favor and disappear. No one would miss you. They’re not even thinking of you right now. No one misses you now. Everyone is just pretending to like you because they feel sorry for you. They actually really hate you. Just disappear. They don’t want you around anyway.”

-”Leave. Disappear. No one wants you. Just take [redacted], and go to sleep.”

Edward was not helping me. He made it seem like he was, but he wasn’t. He entered my life during a time when I was vulnerable and made me believe he would be my redemption. He knew me; he knew what was best for me. He could make me better/stronger/more beautiful/more desirable/smarter; all I had to do was listen.

That’s not who he is. He is a monster. He’s worse than that; he is pure evil that nothing and no one should ever allowed in. He took what I give him, and it’s not enough. It’s never enough. Once I did what he told me to do, he tells me to go farther because while it’s good, I can do better; I can be better. He destroyed everything I touch and turned it against me so that I couldn’t rely on anyone but him. He isolated me and introduced me to his partner-in-crime, Shame. The more Edward spoke, the more Shame consumed. 

When I thought Edward was giving me drive and motivation to go workout so I could improve myself, in reality, he was telling me my body was grotesque and that I needed to punish myself because I mistreated my body. When he tried to keep me from faltering on my diet, he was telling me I shouldn’t eat [xyz] so I can be healthy, when in reality, he was encouraging me to binge/purge/restrict/fast, causing heart palpitations, unstable-low blood pressure, gastrointestinal distress, brain fog, increased bouts of depression, and severe low self esteem; instead of being healthy, he made me extremely unhealthy. When he continued to cheer me on whenever I injured myself due to too much physical exertion and would tell me to “reign my diet in”, the reality was that he caused these injuries by telling me that I had to keep going no matter how hard I trained, that I couldn’t eat enough calories so I could heal and recover, and that even though I was injured, I couldn’t rest and had to continue to exercise. When I got sexually assaulted at my gym, he graciously allowed me to transfer gyms and continue to workout and ignore my mental health when in reality...he wanted to keep me mentally weak so that I would continue to rely on him because he made clothes fit better.

He made it so clothes can fit better; clothes I bought, that I wasn’t allowed to wear, because my body wasn’t where he wanted it to be, therefore I didn’t deserve to wear them yet. 

The past few months have been the most difficult out of the 3 years I’d been struggling; COVID, finishing school and transferring to uni, cheating on my fiance, my mom almost dying (twice), and really delving deep inside me to come to terms with everything I went through and being completely honest with myself...I never want to go through that again. But I am extremely grateful I did, because I saw who Edward really was. I saw him for the toxic, vile, awful evil entity he always was, and now I get to say goodbye.

To Edward:

Thank you for who you were when you back into my life (again). Thank you for helping me cope with my issues, and for keeping my head afloat; you did the best you could, given the circumstances you had. I was broken, hurt, lost, and saw nothing good in me. You showed me that I can be better, and that I can do better. I just have to push a little harder, and I’ll eventually get what I want.

You gave me something to hold on to in the beginning, and thankfully, I figured out your toxicity before it was too late for me. This is me telling you that I want to part ways. I know you’ll still be around, because you are my oldest “friend”, and I know you will do your very best to get me to succumb to your ways. But like you taught me, if I just have a little bit of willpower and a little bit of strength and perseverance, I can achieve what I want; that the only person stopping me is myself. I can either move forward, or sabotage myself once more; it was, and is, completely up to me, isn’t that right?

Thank you for the lessons you taught me. I will utilize them to fight you every single day of my life. Yes, I will have setbacks. Yes, I will falter. But like you taught me; if I falter, I need to keep going. What was it you used to tell me? If I miss a workout, or eat something I wasn’t supposed to, that I needed to work twice as hard the next day? That’s exactly what I’m going to do. If I let you in, I will tell myself that it’s okay to make a mistake, and that I can always turn my back on you whenever you appear. The only difference between your lesson and my OWN words is that I will forgive myself for allowing you back in. 

I want to thank you for all the vitriolic words you’ve shouted at me. If it weren’t for that, I would’ve never seen the kindest words uttered to me by the ones who do love and care about me (yes, the people in my life love me despite your insistence that they don’t). I want to thank you for the discipline you’ve instilled upon me. If it weren’t for that, I would’ve never remembered the drive I have at succeeding at endeavors that mean a lot to me. And you know what means a lot to me? 

I MEAN A LOT TO ME!

So I will work my hardest to make sure I fight you every single god damn day of my life, and in doing so, empower me to be the best me I can. And you know what it means to be the best me? It’s to be my most authentic and honest and forgiving self. I means I can finally love and appreciate me the way I love and appreciate everyone in my life.

This is my goodbye. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

Kitty 

[futurewriter2000]

"You were my favorite thought." she said as she hugged her knees and laid her head on them, smiling so sweetly at him for a moment- a moment that released his heart of everything bad until it passed and it came back just as such.

He laughed in disbelief, even though deep down inside her knew she was always honest with him.

"I don't know why but every time I thought of you, I felt better, knowing I had something so beautiful with somebody once." she said and he only watched, speechless. "Even when you left out of the blue, disappeared as if you had never existed, I thought of you and I smiled." she continued but he still had nothing to say. "But there came a time where thinking of you started to feel like a curse, even though it never was. My priorities kept screaming at me and all I thought was about you and hoping, wishing that you'd come back. Should have known that you never would. Should have known that I was nobody to you, just like I was nobody to everybody else."

"That's not true." he cut off. "Pi loves you."

"Pi and I don't talk anymore."

He was taken a back. "You two had a row?"

"Us to had a break up."

He rolled his eyes. "You two will also have a make up."

"No." she spoke quietly but firm. "I don't think so." she drifted away in a world he couldn't see but he could listen. "She had always hurt me and I had always forgave her and loved her unconditionally. She was my best friend, my sister, my other hald, a soulmate to go through life together and at the end, through all of that... she was just like the others.... She didn't give a care in the world for me."

"Now, that's not true."

"Isn't it?" she looked at him more fiercely. "Haven't you noticed it?" she continued. "When I had to do things for her, how she talked to me-"

"I always thought... I mean... I did see it but I thought that was just- I don't know... joking?" he started to stutter a bit.

"Well, it was 17 years of joking with her and I grew tired of it."

"Well, you can't just cut off somebody like that, don't you think?"

"You did. With me."

"I barely knew you."

"That's a laugh." she let out a hurtful, painful laugh of her own. "You were more of a friend to me than she was. It doesn't matter if I knew her since I was four or if I knew you for two months, a friend is still a friend." she glared at him. "Or at least that's what the two of you were to me... apparently, the two of you were never a friend of mine." she spoke harshly. Before he could start to argue, she cut in first. "Back then when I called you my friend, you asked me if we were really friends me, not processing this correctly, I said yes. You said that if you were really my friend, then you were a pretty bad one and my dumbass disagreed." she laughed.

"I don't remember ever saying that."

"No, you don't. You really don't care enough to remember." she continued in a harsher tone.

"Stop saying I didn't care!" he started to get frustrated.

"You didn't!" she shouted back. "If you cared, you wouldn't have treated us the way you did. I should have listened to my sister about you. I should have listened to everybody about you but I truly believed good in you."

"Just admit that you were in love with me."

"I was. I thought that was as obvious as a clear day. You cannot always keep that as an excuse for treating me like shit. Saying that I was in love with you, you rejected me and you did it by ignoring me, by not saying a single word, by not just telling me straight into my face that you feel smothered by me or annoyed or that you need space. No, you just ran away like some pussy!"

"I had no choice!"

"You had a choice! I wanted us to be friends and you didn't!" she stood up and so did he, fire raging between them.

"No, I didn't! I had friends!"

"I had friends too but I wanted you to become one of them!"

"I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO BE MY FRIEND!"

"THAN WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY IT!"

"HOW COULD I HAVE SAID IT!! TO YOU!?! TO SOMEBODY WHO WAS IN LOVE WITH ME!! BECAUSE YOU WERE SUCH A GREAT PERSON!"

"WHAT?!" she started to quiet down, confused and still angry.

"You were nice and kind and generous and basically the most perfect person in the world. You only wanted to be friends with me because you were in love with me-"

"No, I-"

"Shut up right now. I know I said I like it when you talk but right now shut up because I'm speaking." he cut her off. "You wanted to be a part of my life. You wanted to fix me. You wanted to help me go through school and buy food so I don't starve. You wanted me to succeed in life and fix my dirty past. That's what you wanted. You wanted a fixing project."

She took a step back, looked away, looked at him again. "You really think that?" she spoke softly.

"Wouldn't be the first to try and do that."

"If you had known me better, you would know that I believe nobody can fix somebody else's life. You were right, I would want to help you go through school and buy you food so that you don't starve. I would want you to succeed in life and heal from your dirty past. I thought friends were supposed to do that. Stand by your side and care for you. Yes, friends are there to have good times with but they should also be there for the bad times. Why can't you get this concept?"

He didn't know what to say to that, so he grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and pulled one up to his lips. He lit it up and started to smoke. She only watched and sat back down.

"It doesn't matter anymore, really." she said, staring at the distance. "Now, you can rest easy. Get on with how things used to be in your life and I'll get on with how things are in my life." she grabbed her bag and stood up. "You don't have to worry about me wanting to be your friend anymore. I stopped wishing on that long time ago." she started to walk away and he watched.

"Why?!" he shouted after her. She stopped and turned around. "Why did you want to be my friend so much?"

"Does there have to be a reason for wanting you in my life just because I simply care?" she asked and he continued to stare. She let out a laugh. "You made me happy. That's why. You made me laugh and you were not afraid to be weird and crazy with me. You made be the best version of myself and I loved myself. I wasn't falling in love with you... I was falling in love with myself. That was why I considered you my friend at the time. You made me better. You made me so much better." she smiled to herself. "I never thanked you for that but I was always thankful for you and..." she paused and looked him in the eyes again, more distant- something he was used to but not from her. "... and it's a shame we had to become strangers again..."

[funkymbtifiction]

Hi, Charity. Can you help me find out my last fix? I'm pretty sure of my second fix being 9w8, but the last one is a tossup between 6w7 or 7w6...

Sounds like 7 aggression and boredom. I don't see 6.

[diddlesanddoodles]

Dumpling ch 30

ALL THE EXPOSITION, FOLKS!

Alternative title for this chapter “In which the bastard gets a name and Keral yells at a hobo lady.” 

“The first time I ever met Thadeus was during a dedication ceremony in Silvaara. Some new conservatory or other, I don’t remember. He was there to represent Vhasshal on behalf of his father, the King. My official presentation to the court had been just the week prior so I was nervous as this would be my first official function under my full title. My dress was so tight and starched I could barely move without fear of tipping over. Which I did; I fell into a creek when I went to have a moment to myself away from all the madness of the festivities. Thadeus must’ve heard me go in, because he fished me out of the water before that damnable dress could drown me. We ended up talking for almost an hour and the guards had to come search for us when they realized we were missing.

“And then it came to pass that every time there was a reason for Vhasshal to come to Silvaara or Silvaara to go to Vhasshal, either he or I would go as part of the dignitary company. Just to speak to each other. He would give me little tricks and methods on how to stand the structured rigors of court and to not bow under the pressures our positions required of us, though mine wasn’t so great or heavy as to having one day rule an entire Kingdom. I was just a lonely girl and he was endlessly kind to me, far more than he should have been willing to bestow. One of the few people who did not see me a pawn to be played or won or lost.

“The day he learned that Rosanna of Ibronia was promised to him as his betrothed, I...found out that I had been promised to the eldest son of the Silvaaran royal adviser, a boy named Aidus. He was a cruel creature; selfish and too full of pride. I had always detested him, but he had always sought me out at court. When I was told I was to marry him...I did not receive the news well. His family was powerful and well connected. Anything he ever wanted he would get presented to him on a silver platter. Including me it seemed. But the one thing he nor his family had was a line to the throne. And though everyone kept telling me how smart a match we would be...

“...I did not want him.

“My heart belonged to another man; the Thorn Guard Captain’s son, Hayron. He had been one of the guards to come find me when Thadeus fetched me from the creek and he had often been apart of the guard entourage that escorted courtiers throughout the capitol. The three of us became friends after a time and I remember feeling like nothing that life could throw at me would be so insurmountable as long as he and Thadeus were beside me. I might even be able face my betrothal with dignity and grace as it was expected of me. But then I made a mistake. I...I fell pregnant.”

Oira laughed, a hallow false founding laugh without any humor. “I was so scared that I told Thadeus before I told Hayron. The Crown Prince of Vhasshal knew of my child before her father! Heh...he congratulated me, but he was still scared for my sake and that of my baby. He said that no matter what happened, he would make sure we would be taken care of and I absolutely believed him.

“I had just began to show when my father learned of my shame. I never found out who it was that told him or perhaps he just knew. In any case, I was dragged in front of the whole court and forced to confess everything. My father disowned me then and there and told me to leave. To leave Silvaara. That he would not allow...not allow a bastard to be born under his sigil. He had Master Barnabas erase my name from everything. The histories, our family tome...

“Hayron and I left and lived in the countryside for a time. I wrote to Thadeus and told him what had happened and he instructed us to remain there and that he would come and take us all back to Vhasshal. The night he came to get us...Aidus came as well. He told me that if I got rid the baby, he would overlook my unfaithful indiscretions and still marry me. I would not have my title, but I would share his and still be permitted to live in the place of my birth. I refused him. I told him he was not a man, but a selfish boy who thought he could buy and manipulate his way to power and to a royal title and a path to the throne. He...tried to cut Nenani from my belly. Thaddeus stepped in and...then there were guards everywhere, but they were...wrong. Their eyes were white as milk. Aidus had enchanted them, slipped some sort of potion into their food or drink so they obeyed every one of his words. It was a forbidden magic and I did not know how to snap them from their daze. Aidus had intended for them to kill Hayron, but he had not anticipated Thaedus being there.”

She paused, sucking in a fast breath as tears fell fast down her face. “They killed him. The Prince. He desperately tried to save us; Hayron and my baby and I. He told us to run and to not look back, but...I saw Aidus do it. The killing blow. A single stab through the heart. My dearest friend was dead and all I could do was run away as he bled to death in a foreign country and...I’ve been running ever since...”

Hands pressed to his lips, Keral’s green eyes seemed to stare out into nothing. His whole being was wound tight and looked almost feral with rage. Bitterly angry and sad. He took a deep breath that shuddered as it drew across his lips. “Thadeus was a fuckin’ idiot.”

Oira bristled, shaken from her tears and she snarled. “He was not! He was incredibly kind and selfless...”

“Incredibly stupid and inconsiderate!” Keral reiterated, staring daggers into the small woman. “He didn’t say a damn thing to us. Just up and left one night and got himself killed! All he had to fuckin’ do was tell us and we would’ve been there with ‘im. He was the fuckin’ Crown Prince fer fuck sake!”

Oira paused, her expression softened. “You...were friends with Thadeus?”

“Yes, I was!” Keral shouted, angrier than Nenani had ever seen him. Or Farris. He stood up and walked back and forth in a nervous line, running his hands through his hair and huffing through his nose looking for all the world like a man desperate to hit something. “Since I was a lad. He was my best mate fer years. Met ‘im after I became a squire.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“A’course that would be why he died. Puttin’ his neck out where it had no fuckin’ business and fer what? A damn woman who couldn’t keep her fuckin’ legs closed?”

“YOU GO TOO FAR, SIR!” Oira was on her feet as well now. “HE WAS MY FRIEND TOO!”

“AND YE GOT ‘IM KILLED!” Keral shouted back, the sheer volume echoed hauntingly through the forest. “AND A WHOLE LOT MORE PEOPLE TOO!”

Oira flinched as though his words were a physical blow and she shrank back. “Don’t you dare put that on me...”

“Go on then. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that the war would never have happened if you hadn’t begged him to come rescue ya from yer own fuck up. TELL ME!”

“I CAN’T!”

Keral starred at her with bristling hate. “He’s dead because of you.”

“I know he is,” Oira said, her head bowed and shaking. “I know...that I committed a horrible sin...”

“Ha. Don’t think so highly of yerself, woman,” Keral snorted distastefully. “What I want to know, is why didn’t ye come forward and tell us the truth? Why are ye out here skulking about the dark like some fuckin’ goblin?”

“By the time I would have been able to, the war had already started,” Oira said. “And...and you, Vhasshal that is...had started...started to...eat humans. Thadeus had died for my child. For me. For Hayron. I couldn’t throw it all away by risking it. And just as you showed me here, that was what I had expected from his father and so much worse. Tell me Keral, and tell me what you’re heart knows is the truth: would the Blood King have spared me or my infant child if I had told him the truth of his eldest son’s death? Or would he have killed and probably eaten us both and continued on with the war?” Keral didn’t say anything and Oira nodded. “So you understand me then a little at least...”

“Go on then,” he growled. “Tell us the rest of it. I know there’s more.”

“We hid in the woods with others for a long time, trying to wait out the war. Then one day you and your blue coats came and drove us all out to the Southlands. We made a life there somehow. We raised our daughter. And then I fell ill, but it wasn’t a sickness. The night I found out that I was with child again...Aidus found us for the second time. But he was not how I remembered him. He was twisted and so much crueler than before. He had fought in the war, but had started to learn some deviant magic and it had warped his mind and turned him into this...this monster of a man.” She paused and took a fortifying breath that wavered. “...he killed Hayron in front of me. With his own sword. My...my entire world bled out in front of me and I couldn’t do anything. Just like Thadeus. All over again. I don’t remember anything of the next few months, but he had taken me away and...forced me to be what he always wanted me to be; His wife. Even though I could give him no way to the throne and there was no longer a throne to even be had.

“And for those years that was what I did. Languished in the crumbing halls of his keep and bide my time. I gave birth to my son and was able to convince him that Haiyer was of his blood, so he wouldn’t kill the only part of Hayron I still had. I called him by a different name around him, but in secret I would always call him Haiyer. But...almost a year ago now, he said that he was disappointed that Haiyer had not bloomed or showed any sign of being touched by magic. He said that if he did not show promise by summer...that he would kill my son and we would have to “try again”. I could not let that mad man take my son from me like he took everything else. So I ran away. I had tried so many times before, but this time I managed to get away and stay hidden. A cloaking spell I’d found in one of his books.” She ran her hand across her scalp and the shortened tendrils of hair. “Normally such a spell requires a great amount of energy and calls for the blood of a freshly slain sparrow, but some of my own blood and hair did well enough as a substitution to last a few days. If I allowed the cloak to fall for too long, his many eyes would find me.

“I wanted to go back to the Southlands. To get my daughter and Halden, Haryon’s brother. But when I finally made it back, I couldn’t find them anywhere. Someone told me that there had been a fire and that Halden had died, but...no one knew where Nenani had gone. I feared that Aidus had come and taken her. To manipulate me into returning to him. So I’ve been searching for her ever since, hoping somehow he had not found her.”

Keral nodded. “Aye, she was with us by then. But this Aidus fellow. Is he this Smoke Mage I’ve been chasin’ all ‘round creation?”

“Smoke Mage?” Oira made a face. “Smoke Mages are a fairy tales to scare children. Aidus is something much worse; A monster. He’s barely a person anymore. He has scores of Wyverns he’s enchanted or made deals with to do his bidding and the spells he uses...eat at him. Pieces of him flow into the beasts. It was why escaping him is so hard when he has hundreds of eyes. And his precious Dragon of course, but...that beast is gone now. Which will make hiding from him much easier. He put so much of himself into that creature to have it bend to his will. He’ll be weak for some time yet as he tries to pull himself back together.”

“Ye asked me to take yer lil’ uns with me. What about you?”

“It’s me he wants. If he has me he couldn’t care less about the children.”

Keral sighed angrily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gods piss on it, no wonder ye and Thadeus got along so well. Yer both fuckin’ idiots.”

“I don’t know what else to do! I have nothing left. Only them. I don’t care if I die, but they,” she said, pointing to Nenani and Haiyer, her voice frantic. “They have to live. For the memory of Silvaara, they have to live!”

Keral bent down suddenly and grabbed the woman up. She shrieked in fright as Keral brought her close to his face and her fire was doused by pure shock. She trembled and uselessly pushed against his hands. “What are you doing? Put me down!”

Nenani got to her feet, truly afraid now. She had listened to them yell and scream at each other for what seemed like forever, but despite the cruel things Keral had said, she did not think he would harm her mother. But he looked so angry, she was beginning to fear that he very well might. “Keral! Please!”

“I’m pretty damn good at smellin’ lies, girl,” he said to Oira, ignoring Nenani all together, and his voice was low with warning. “And I think yer tellin’ the truth. Or yer version of it anyway. But there’s one glarin’ omission in yer story.” Oira’s face was flushed and she was breathing hard. She was terrified. His eyes narrowed at her. “Just who the fuck are you, girl?”

She moved her mouth, but no sound came out. Keral snarled. “Try again, lass. I’m waitin’...”

“...my….my name is Oira Daelg. Wife to Hayron Daelg and mother to Nenani and Haiyer,” she said, voice shaking but firm in her convictions. As she spoke her next words however, her voice grew small and pained. Tears welled in her eyes. “But...but I was born Aine Elaine Oira of Silvaara. Youngest daughter of King Haeral XVI.”

Keral’s narrowed eyes softened and he sighed heavily, all the ire and hate draining away like droplets of water. “Of course ye are,” he said and crouched back down and eased her back onto her feet. He stared at her for a moment. “Yer that little lass that would tag along with Thadeus whenever the Silvaaran diplomats visited.” He paused in contemplation, digging back through his own memories to pluck out a name he hadn’t spoken in over a decade. “...Annie.”

“...yes,” she said quietly. “That’s what he called me. Annie.”

Keral shook his head, laughing without humor and looking around in disbelief. “Of course ye are...”

“I’m sorry,” said the woman with clear emotion. “I’m so sorry for what Aidus did to Thadeus. And my part in it.”

“Strange I didn’t realize who ye were when me and the boys caught ye,” he pondered aloud. “Probably too pissed that ye left yer lil’ girl all on ‘er own to recognize ye in the dark like that.” Keral sat back down in the dirt with a heavy thud, leaning back against the tree and looking up. The stars were out and the only light was the bright moon above them. He was quiet for a long time. “He would have hated himself if he didn’t go to ya. Even if ya never sought his help. He’d have blamed himself for whatever happened to ya and yer babe. Fer the rest of his life. That’s how he was.”

Oira stared at Keral askance and said quietly, “But there wouldn’t have been a war.”

“Probably not,” Keral agreed tiredly. He tilted his head to regard her with shining green eyes. “But does it really matter anymore?”

Oira considered his words and then shook her head. “...I don’t know.”

Keral nodded and looked over to where Nenani was sitting with Haiyer in her lap. The little boy was asleep, but Nenani was awake and watching. Listening with anxious attention between the two of them. They were so different from one another, her mother and Keral. But a thin thread connected them and it seemed like they both were aware of it at all once; How small the world could be that the death of one person could have such an enormous toll on two people so different from each other. Keral was watching Nenani carefully, considering something. He sighed and said, “So them two lil’ uns there...”

Oria was staring at Keral as he watched her children. “They are the last of my father’s bloodline.”

“And you…?” Keral asked, eyeing her from the side with one gleaming eye. Oira frowned and shook her head.

“I was disowned by my father,” she said firmly, sensing where his thoughts had wandered. “I have no claim to the throne.”

Keral just shrugged off her denial. “Kinda hard to be Queen of a country that doesn’t exist anymore. But still. It’s not a small thing, lass. Warren will be wantin’ to speak with ya.”

“I’ve told you everything, Keral,” she said stiffly. “Please. Just make sure they’re taken care of.”

“That Aidus bastard’s attacked Vhasshal; five times now. Hurt my brother. Killed my King’s ward. We can’t just let that go. I won’t let that go. I loved that boy like he was my own flesh and blood and I want that damn Mage’s head fer it.” Keral reached out and tapped his finger against Oira’s head and she batted at him. “You and the lil’uns are all comin’ to Vhasshal with me and yer gonna tell the King all you’ve just told me. And then we’re gonna end this fuckin’ madness once and fer all.”

“I can’t go to Vhasshal,” Oira said, her face contorting in pain. “I can’t.”

Keral snorted distastefully. “Ye said ye were sorry fer what that bastard did to Thadeus. Then prove it. Hoist yer skirts up and face the consequences of what ye did. Warren deserves to know why his brother is dead. Ye ain’t the only one whose entire family was wiped out by the war. Far from it.”

“I...” She covered her face with her hands.

“If ye say you can’t one more time, I’m tossing ya in my pack and lockin’ ye in,” he growled. “There ain’t a scenario where this doesn’t end with all a’ us goin’. You’ll have about a day to figure out yer choice a’ words.”

Nenani carefully eased Haiyer off her lap and stood. She went to her mother’s side and reached out to put her hand into the crook of her arm. Oira flinched, looking at her daughter.

“It’s alright, Mama,” she told her trying to give her an encouraging smile. “There are a lot of really nice people there. They took care of me. Please, don’t be afraid.”

Keral spared Nenani a tired smile. “Well, it’s decided then. I need to go grab my pack from where I left it. Just sit here till I get back.” He paused, looking at the ground in consideration and then bent down to carefully scooped little Haiyer up and slipped him into the large breast pocket of his coat.

Oira bristled and made as though to charge at the ranger. “What are you doing?”

“Yer pup’s gonna be my insurance,” Keral replied with a smug grin. He gently patted the small lump that was the sleeping boy. “To make sure ya stay put till I get back.”

Her mother watched Keral disappear though the trees with her youngest child and Nenani could see that she was frightened and anxious.

“Keral won’t hurt him,” she told her mother. “He really is nice. I promise. Even though he’s been really mad, he really is a nice person.”

“Nenani,” Oira said quietly and taking her hands and looking into her daughter’s face. Here eyes were seeking, pleading. “Tell me truthfully. Have they...have they been good to you?”

Nenani nodded. “Yeah. I like living there. Farris is kind of grumpy and yells a lot, but he takes care of me. He’s even teaching me how to make tonics!”

Oira smiled at her daughter indulgently, but it was clearly forced and she kept glancing towards where Keral had left through the trees. “How to make tonics? Is he a healer or…?”

“Oh, no,” Nenani laughed. “He’s the kitchen master.”

The smile was gone from Oira’s face and she stared at her daughter in horror. “The...the kitchen master? The...they gave you to the cook?”

Nenani nodded, not considering the source of her mother’s misgivings. “He wasn’t gonna keep me at first. He said that he just wanted to scare me off of stealing and then send me to live with the Hill Tribes. But I got sick with the red reap.”

Oira’s breathe hitched. “No. You...you got the reap? How...”

“I remember the pain mostly,” Nenani said. “Everything hurt and I couldn’t breathe. But Farris gave me medicine and stayed with me all night. When I got better he decided to keep me.”

“But still...they gave you to the cook!”

“He doesn’t really cook anything himself. The others do that. He manages the spices and runs the kitchen. Yale’s his assistant and he’s been teaching me about plants and herbs. And then there’s Saen. He’s really funny and sneaks me treats when no one is looking. And Quinn and Kol bake the bread; its really good. And then Bart is the butcher and Avery is kind of his assistant. Bart looks scary and mean, but he’s a lot like Farris and is actually really nice. And then Herit and Gjerk are the youngest. They call them tenderfoots because they’re still learning. Gjerk helped me when the wyvern attacked and I almost got smashed by a table.

“And then there’s Lolly. She’s the matron and she made me these clothes and was really nice to me when I first came and yelled at Farris for scaring me and making me think they were gonna eat me. And then there’s Maevis. He’s a magician and makes really yummy tea. He watches over Barnaby same way Farris watches over me and...”

“Wait! Wait. Did you say Barnaby?” her mother asked, face as pale as milk.

“Yeah, he’s an archivist,” Nenani paused. “Did you know him from before…?”

“Yes,” Oira replied sadly. “I did know him. He...he erased my name from the archives when I was disowned.”

Nenani did not say anything and truthfully she did not know what she could say. She didn’t want to think about all that her mother and Keral had discussed. The way they yelled at one another and threw around their pain like weapons as though hurting the other would lessen the weight of their own burdens. All Nenan cared about was that her mother was finally there. She was alive and now she even had a brother. Above all, she wanted them to be safe. Her thoughts returned to Vhasshal and the assured destruction and pain they would be returning to. Her stomach roiled at the memory of Jae falling into nothing. It hurt so much to think about...

“Nenani,” Oira said gently, taking her face into her hands. “My sweet, you’re crying...”

“The smoke mage...” she said with a whimper. “He...he killed my friend.”

“The one the blue coat spoke of? The King’s ward?”

“Jae was human, but the King called him his son,” Nenani said, shivering. “The King...and Keral. They found him when he was little and he was all alone so the King kept him and raised him in the castle. He was my friend...”

“Warren...took a human boy as his ward?” Oira asked, a strange sort of longing pulling at her features. “That sounds like something Thadeus would have done.”

“Jae tried to protect me from him. Aidus. When he came. He...he had Papa’s sword. But he...threw him off the roof.”

“Oh, my baby,” her mother said and held her. Nenani sank into her mother’s arms and let herself go numb. She was so tired now and all she wanted to do was sleep. She was so tired of crying...

“Oi, Princess,” Keral’s voice broke through the thickening sorrow of Nenani’s mind and she raised her head as the ranger returned from beyond the trees. She could see the thick leather straps of his pack strapped to his back and in his hand he held Haiyer, now awake and red faced with distress. The little boy reached out his hands towards Oira and was calling for her. Keral shook his head in clear exasperation. “Yer pup’s makin’ a right racket.”

“Mama!”

“Is that all you’re able to do? Scare children?” she asked the giant ranger.

“What can I say?” Keral said as he let the little boy slide down from his palm and frantically run to his mother. “It’s a talent.”

Keral put his pack down onto the ground and began rummaging through it. He pulled a flask out and put it in his pocket and several other items as well. Once he seemed satisfied, he looked over to the three humans and gestured them over. “Come on then, let’s get goin’.”

“Now?” Oira asked reluctantly. “Shouldn’t we wait till morning light?”

“Too easy fer folks to spot me in the day,” Keral replied. “Harder to spot in the dark. That’s why our coat’s are blue, blends better in the dark. And the sooner all of ye are in Vhasshal, the better. We don’t know when yer Smoke Mage’ll show up again and I’d rather have a few hundred feet of stone walls and a couple hundred more men to work with than just some trees and a few squirrels.”

Keral looked to Oira and nodded to his open pack. “In with ya, Princess.”

“Please don’t call me that. Oira is my name. No titles,” she said, eyeing the open pack with suspicion and reluctance. “And must we…?”

“It’ll be the most comfortable way fer us all to just have ya stashed in here.” When she made no indication of complying, Keral sighed in frustration and reached out and grabbed her around the middle. Haiyer cried out as his mother left his side, little hands trying to catch her skirt.

“For the love of –! Don’t just grab me!” Oira snapped indignantly. “That’s rude!”

“Don’t have the time to be humorin’ yer misgiving’s, Princess –er, sorry. Oira,” Keral said to her as he slipped her into the pack. There was a wad of cloth down at the bottom cushioning her from the other items further down and making for a softer place to sit. Once he had their mother tucked away, Keral eyed the two children. “Okay, sweetling. Yer turn.” Nenani let him scoop her up without a fuss and set her next to her mother and then he turned his green eyes to the smaller and arguably weepier of the group. Haiyer was grabbing at his tunic nervously and glaring up at the ranger.

“Give her back!” he demanded with a frown; his little chin sticking out in a pout.

“Oh, aye? Ye givin’ me orders there lil’ princeling?” Keral asked in amusement. “And just what ye gonna be doin’ if I say no?”

“Leave him alone, he’s just a baby!” Oira told him, but in response, Keral flipped the pack’s lid closed and sat his hand on top.

“Quiet woman and let me have my fun,” he said and turned his attention back to Haiyer who had procured a rock and had it pulled back in his hand, ready to throw it. Keral laughed. “Oh, ye gonna hit me with a rock?”

“Give Mama back! And sister!”

“Hm. No, I think I’m gonna keep ‘em,” Keral replied with a grin, patting the top of the pack with his hand.  

“NO!” Haiyer yelled and threw the rock. It landed harmlessly about a foot away from Keral’s boot and the ranger looked at for a moment before flicking his gaze back to the boy who visibly flinched. The thin blanket of courage fell from the little boy’s shoulders and he began to shake and cry. “Please….please give them back.”

“Ye think I’m gonna hurt yer mum and sister do ye, son?”

“You’re a giant...giants eat people...” said the little boy with an oddly serious expression, but the way his bottom lip trembled gave him away.

“This one don’t,” Keral said simply, shaking his head. “Never have, never will. Besides. Ye lil’ fella’s all taste like dirt.”

Haiyer blinked, looking confused and then turned his eyes down to the ground and the dirt there and then back up at Keral; tilting his head. “...dirt?”

“Oh, aye. Just like mud,” he said, making a face of disgust. “Not very yummy. So I won’t be eatin’ ya or yer mum an’ sister.”

“...no?” the little boy said with a hopeful lilt.

“Nope.”

“...oh,” Haiyer said, blinking as he digested this revelation, his fear seemingly forgotten. He looked at the rock and the back up at Keral and seemed almost ashamed. “...I’m sorry I threw a rock at you. I thought you wanted to eat us.”

“No harm, lad,” he said with a grin. “Ye did good comin’ to yer family’s rescue like that. Very brave of ya.”

“...I was really scared.” he admitted.  

“And how about now?”

“...still scared.”

“Well, don’t be worryin’ about that none, my lil’ lad,” Keral said and laying his hand down in front of the boy. “I’m takin’ all of ye somewhere ye gonna be safe.”

“...safe? From Addis?” Haiyer asked, a little more hope brightening his face and looking at Keral’s open palm warily.

“Addis?” Keral asked, confused. “Aidus, ye mean?”  

“Yeah. The bad man,” the boy said. “He hurts me sometimes. And Mama. Makes her cry a lot.”

The amusement in Keral’s eyes softened and took a moment to properly look the little boy over. He could see marking on his bare legs and scratches on his arms and face. What would normally have been mistaken for the scrapes and scratched of a rambunctious child when pulled together with everything else painted a much bleaker picture and he found himself very angry.

“I’m not gonna let ‘im hurt yer mum, lad,” he said gently. “Or yer sister. Or you.”

Haiyer fidgeted, digging his toes into the dirt and thinking very hard. When he finally spoke, it was a small and anticipative question. “...you promise?”

“Promise,” Keral answered, making an X over his heart. “Cross m’heart an’ everythin’.”

“...Okay.” Haiyer replied with the smallest of smiles. Keral remained very still as the boy cautiously approached him, eyeing his open hand. Slowly and still shaking, Haiyer climbed into the ranger’s palm and sat down in the hallow of the gloved hand. Lifting the boy very carefully, Keral brought him over to his pack and opened it. A very nervous looking Oira was glaring up at him and the tips of her fingers were glowing.

Keral rolled his eyes at her.

“Settle down, lass. Yer pup’s fine,” Keral said as he lowered Haiyer inside and let him slip off from his hand and into his mother’s arms.

“Mama! Guess what?” Haiyer asked, suddenly very animated and excited. “He said we taste bad so he isn’t gonna eat us.”

“Well,” Oira grinned, suppressing a laugh and pressing her forehead to his. “That is good news.”

[yoonjinkooked]

Daddy Day Care  |  Chapter 3

pairing; jungkook/female OC

genre; fluff, romcom, smutty in the future, Dad!Jungkook rating; explicit (IN FUTURE CHAPTERS ONLY, not yet) words; this chapter 5475, total so far (13.546)

— synopsis; Jeongguk is your average 25-year-old - job, work, friends - everything regular. Except, he has a 5 year old daughter. And he’s single. Until a “princess” waltzes into his life.

warnings for this chapter: POV changes. You still want to have Jungkook’s children. Jungkook in a Santa suit. A frustratingly smart 5yo. Cursing, banter, a whole lot of Christmas fluff. Unable-to-flirt and struggle-to-adult Jungkook.

I knock on the door, pausing between knocks to look around me, feeling paranoid. There’s not a kid in sight and most importantly, Eunmi isn’t sneaking around and trying to debunk the Santa theory.

Still, despite knowing how unlikely it is that she’ll see me, I feel weird, as if I am keeping a big secret, which I suppose I am. I just had to come here and wear a damn suit, not pretend like like this is a matter of national security.

The door before me opens and my eyes go wide, because I was expecting Gayoon, not Jimin, one of the other teachers, with a red ball on his nose and headband antlers on his head. Judging by the look on his face, he’s equally as surprised to see me. “Mr Jeon?” he frowns.

“Santa,” I correct him and watch as the look on his face turns into one of understanding as he opens the door wider and he lets me inside. “Didn’t Gayoon tell you?”

“She didn’t but then again, Gayoon’s an idiot,” he shrugs and I do a double take. Sure, I’ve referred to some of my co-workers as idiots but only in my head and not in front of others. Salty much? “I’ll call her over but I think she’s pretty busy in the kitchen.”

It’s only then that I smell it and when I do, it smacks me in the head – cinnamon. So much cinnamon. The entire hallway that we’re in smells like Christmas. I’m not a professional but if a few sniffs are enough, I’d say Gayoon is neck deep in gingerbread dough.

“Wait, what do I have to do?” I ask Jimin as he goes towards what I think is the kitchen.

“Beats me,” he shrugs. “She’s the mastermind. Don’t worry. Just… chill here. She’ll be here in a second.”

Left with no other option, I do exactly what he says. I wait and I think. Seokin’s present is already with him, as he requested a new headset and knew I’d make a better choice when buying than he would. Eunmi’s presents were all wrapped up and left under a Christmas tree last night, after I dropped her over at Namjoon and Hyejin’s place. Mom sent us food, enough to last us the whole week – all is done. Now all I need to do is to survive today.

I’m startled when the door at the end of the hallway opens up and Gayoon comes charging – dressed as an elf. “Hi,” she smiles, looking around the hallway frantically. She opens the door behind me and all but pushes me inside. “Sorry, I’m a mess right now and the place looks like Santa threw up on it and my idiot brother is too big of an idiot to tell you that the suit is here, and-“

“Jimin is your brother?” I ask in surprise. She is looking around the room, barely acknowledging me with a nod. Well, I suppose that explains why Jimin would be comfortable calling her an idiot – god knows I call Seokjin an idiot all the time. Then again, she and Jimin look nothing alike. Or maybe I just didn’t pay attention to details. “What is this, a family business?” I chuckle.

“Well, seeing as my mother owns the place, yes,” she mumbles.

“Wait, Mrs. Park is your mother?” I am surprised, thinking about the lady that’s in charge of this kindergarten and who gets my checks every month. Now, there I do see a resemblance. Now that I know, I realize that Gayoon is simply a younger, slightly more attractive version of Mrs. Park. With no offense to Mrs. Park, who still looks damn fine for her age.

“Yeah, that’s my mom,” she lets out a sigh of relief when she spots a big bag in the corner of the room. She rushes to it, picks it up and pushes it into my arms. “Here’s the suit. I had it dry cleaned last week, so it’s all lavender and shiny. Just… cover your face as best as you can,” she instructs me.

“And is Eunmi-“

“Don’t worry about Eunmi,” she smiles. “Once your kid is in the kindergarten, she’s our worry, not yours Jeongguk. You just be Santa and don’t you worry about a thing. And the cookies I promised will be here soon, unless I burn down the kitchen. See you later,” she’s out of the room before I can even take a breath, much less utter a word or two.

And I am left with a trash bag that holds what I am afraid will end up being the suit of pain.

Even though she looked as if she was seconds away from losing her mind, Gayoon seemed to have everything under control, with the help of Jimin. And the cookies he brought to me while I waited around, fidgeting in the suit, are as good as any Christmas cookies I’ve ever had.

And the suit? Well, the suit is doable. It’s a bit too hot inside of it for my liking. But compared to the beard, the suit is just fine. The beard? This thing is itchy as fuck and after a long look in the mirror, I am 100% sure I won’t be fooling anyone today, not even the bunch of 5 year olds waiting for me.

“It’s time, follow me,” Gayoon peeks into the room and as I stand up, I realize that the look on her face is giving her away – she’s trying really hard not to laugh directly in my face.

“Is it that bad?” I sigh.

“Nope, not at all,” she shakes her head.

“You’re a miserable liar, you know,” I raise my eyebrow at her but I’m pretty sure she can’t see it because the Santa hat is covering half of my face.

“Nah, I’m just not trying hard enough,” she laughs. “Come on, let’s go.”

One hallway after the other, I end up in front of a line of parents, who are all smiling my way. I am pretty sure most of them can figure out who I am and that’s not good for my already deflated ego. A good portion of them already look at me like I’m a kid with a kid, like I am somehow less capable of a parent than they are and having me dressed up as Santa is not going to do me any favors.

But then again, I’m doing this for my kid. What are they doing for theirs?

And the second I feel good about myself, I spot my friends. Unlike Gayoon, the two couples have no problem with laughing directly into my face. Especially Namjoon and Yoongi, since they’re probably having war flashbacks of the suit and are so glad they’re not in it this year.

“Shut it,” I glare at them as I walk past them but Namjoon only laughs harder. “Hoe,” he freezes mid-laughter. “Ho-ho,” I cover it up, making the other three laugh and Namjoon glare at me.

“Go on with your walk of shame, Santa,” he retaliates by pushing me to walk faster.

I will kill him. I don’t know when, I don’t know how but I will kill him.

This… this might have been a horrible mistake.

I don’t know Jeongguk nearly enough to know if he’s capable of doing this or not. For all I know, he can’t act to save his life. But whether he can’t act to save his life or he’s an Oscar-worthy actor, he’s the only guy we’ve got. So, Jimin and I ceremoniously introduce him as Santa Claus and he walks into the playroom, ho-ho-hoing his way around while the children scream and clap.

The beard is barely covering his baby face and the pillow stuffed inside of the suit looks abnormal.

I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Jimin. We should have left Jeongguk as a skinny Santa – that would be more believable. But then again, these are five year olds, not grown people that he has to fool. And looking around at all the kiddos, they look like they are buying it. They laugh and cheer, answer his questions at the very same time and smile brightly because it’s him! It’s Santa!

“Miss Gayoon?” I feel a tug on the sleeve of my green elf suit and when I look down, I see Eunmi reaching for me.

“What is it, sweetie?” I ask, hoping Jeongguk doesn’t see it and gets distracted by his own daughter.

“Why is my Dad pretending to be Santa?” she whispers to me.

Shit.

I knew it was a risk but we all underestimated Eunmi. The kid is bright as hell and at the age of 5, she can already read! All of us should have known that she would be able to recognize her own father under the fake white beard and a huge red suit.

I smile and take her by the hand, moving us away from the other kids. She follows but when I kneel down to be face to face with her, I see a frown on her cute little face, her chubby cheeks even more prominent than usual. “Honey, this is top secret. Can you keep a secret?” I ask.

“Yes,” she nods, her little pigtails jumping with the bob of her head.

“You know how Santa has to deliver aaaaaaall the presents to kids all over the world, right?” I ask and she nods. “Well, Santa is currently really super mega busy with the delivery and also, Rudolph and his friends need to rest a bit. So, Santa asked me to ask your dad to give you guys presents instead of him. Santa asks a lot of people to help because sometimes he doesn’t have enough time to visit everyone.”

“You talked to Santa?” she asks, her doe eyes looking at me in awe.

“Sure did,” I nod. “And your dad is on a super-secret mission so we need to be shhh about it, okay?” I put my finger over my lips, hoping this is good enough for the little one to keep it a secret.

“Hm… seems legit.”

I do a double take, wondering if she just said what I think she said.

“Sweetie… did you just say ‘seems legit’?” I ask, trying hard not to laugh.

“Yes,” she nods.

“Where did you…? Do you know what that means?” I ask.

“Daddy says we say that when something is true,” she shrugs her little shoulder and yes, my suspicions are confirmed. Jeon Jeongguk is a true dork and his cute daughter is going to be an awesome dork too.

“Well, he’s right,” I nod and I smile when I offer her my pinky. “Pinky promise not to tell anyone?”

“Deal,” she nods, accepting my pinky with her own and shaking them together.

I finally breathe out a sigh of relief when she runs along to join her friends. If Eunmi was a little less smart, this could have ended up being an utter disaster. And this is a warning sign – next year we are totally hiring someone to play Santa because Dads are officially off limits.

Gayoon finally feels free enough to laugh directly into my face when she watches me tear off the beard and hat, throwing them both to the ground. “I’m not doing this again,” I warn her.

“Nah, you won’t have to,” she shakes her head. “Eunmi figured you out.”

“She did?!”

The little weasel was sitting in my lap, smiling brightly and asking for a puppy. And when I said that I’m not sure if mom and dad would be happy with a puppy, she insisted they would love it!

“I am raising a professional liar,” I sigh, falling onto a chair. “She straight up pretended not to know me!”

“In her defense, I asked her to,” Gayoon raises her hands. “If she had said something, we would all be in trouble and we’d have to explain to 20 something kids that Santa isn’t real. Or that Santa is actually the father of one of their classmates. Whichever one you’d prefer.”

“Thank god,” I sigh, rubbing my eyes while at the same time reaching for a cookie. “I don’t know how you guys do it, I swear. Handling one five-year-old is a challenge on its own but 20 of them?! How?”

“It’s a job, not a hobby,” she shrugs, looking completely unfazed. “We do what we have to do and if that means handling 20 five-year-olds at once, we do it. Now, about all of this – I owe you one. Name your price,” she looks guilty, as if she knows just how much of a pain it was for me to do this. In fact, she probably knows, seeing as she is dressed as an elf, a bell on her hat too, ringing with every step.

“Nah,” I shake my head. “Seeing you miserable in that costume is payment enough.”

“Hey!” she glares at me. “It’s not my fault I wear stupid costumes every time we run into each other.”

“True,” I shrug. “But seriously, you don’t owe me anything. I did it for my girl and all the other kiddos. And for you, as a favor.”

“Christmas spirit and all that?”

“Sure, call it that,” I shrug as I get up. “But seriously, thank you for-“

“Ooof,” she is suddenly distracted. “Mistletoe,” she points at the ceiling between us and my blood freezes.

Mistletoe. Me. Her.

Crap.

I mean, she is cute, and pretty and funny and all that but… how much did we even talk? And she’s… she’s Eunmi’s teacher. That wouldn’t be very smart of me.

I am still frozen when she lurches forward. For a second, for one second, I think she is coming right at me but instead, she reaches and grabs the mistletoe, tearing it off the ceiling. “I told Jimin mistletoes are too much for the kindergarten but the idiot never listens,” she shakes her head as she scrunches the decoration in her hand, before throwing it down on the floor and smiling at me. “You don’t have to thank me for anything, we owe you. Take all the cookies you want on your way out, but I need to go and clean the kitchen before it’s too late. Thank you. Merry Christmas, in advance.”

“Merry Christmas,” I smile, nodding when she turns around and leaves the room.

She didn’t even consider it.

I know I was kind of against it but… she didn’t even consider it. She crushed that mistletoe in a matter of seconds.

Why am kind of insulted if I didn’t want to do it to begin with?

I make sure to stomp on the mistletoe on my way out.

“Come on sweetie, you can do the countdown,” I tell Eunmi as I reach towards the wall.

“Okay. Three… two… one,” I turn around just in time to watch her face beam up as the lights turn on.

Watching her like this is… worth it. It’s worth every sleepless night, every day I worked overtime, every time I spent half the night touching her forehead to check if her fever was down because I couldn’t even look away from her, much less sleep. Every single hard part of being her dad is absolutely fucking worth it when I see her face light up as she enjoys the sight before her.

Even climbing all over the living room furniture is worth it.

“Daddy, it’s beautiful,” she giggles as she turns around in place, looking around the room.

“I know, we worked hard,” I laugh, “And now’s the time for the star,” I announce before I reach for her. Without much effort, I manage to lift her up so that she could reach the top of the Christmas tree. She sways it a bit towards us and I switch positions to hold the tree with one hand and her with the other – I’m lucky she is light as a feather. After a few seconds of struggling, she puts the star on the top. “Ta-da!” she giggles when I move us away from the tree to look at the final result.

“Perfect,” I smile, reaching to kiss her head. “You are the best Christmas decorator ever!”

“I’m awesome,” she smiles down at me.

“Yes, you are.”

“You’re awesome too, daddy,” she giggles.

“Yes I am.”

“So… puppy?” she asks, looking… well, like a kid asking for a puppy.

“Why you little!” I laugh as I reach to tickle her, smiling instantly when she starts laughing and pushing my hand away at the same time. “You want a puppy, huh?”

“Santa told- told me- Santa told me-,” she talks between laughter. I slow down with the tickling, not wanting her to struggle to speak. “Santa told me I might get one.”

“Sure he did,” I roll my eyes. “Miss Gayoon told me you figured out I was Santa.”

“Oh,” her smile drops only for a second before she smiles again. “Of course I did, daddy. Santa sounded just like you and he had your face. The beard didn’t hide your eyes! And voice! A beard can’t hind the voice! You should have been smarter daddy!”

“Yes I should have been smarter,” I laugh. “I’ll tell you what… Since you can’t stop bugging me about the puppy… how about you and I go to the shelter after New Year’s, huh? You will be with Mom for a few days but when you come here again, we’ll go to a shelter and pick a puppy? Does that sound like a deal?”

“Really?!” she gasps in shock, her eyes wide. “Really?!”

“Really.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!” she yells, throwing her arms around my neck and squeezing as hard as she can. “You’re the best dad in the whole world!”

“Merry Christmas, sweetie.” I kiss her head as I snuggle her closer.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Eunmi,” I glare at her as I try to find my goddamn phone that’s blasting ‘You really got me’ by The Kinks. The sound is becoming louder and louder and once I don’t find it between the couch cushions, I need to pause and parent cause I see Eunmi reaching for the cake. “No way!” I warn her, ignoring her signature pout. “Eat your veggies first, then cake,” I raise a finger in warning.

“But daddy, veggies are yucky!”

“Oh come on, you eat veggies all the time,” I roll my eyes, knowing that she’s just playing it. She eats them all, but not when there’s cake on the table too, apparently. “Where the he- is my phone,” I barely manage to stop the curse before it leaves my mouth but Eunmi catches on to it. Our eyes meet again and she shakes her head in disappointment.

“Daddy said a bad word,” she looks as if she just saw me break the law.

“No, Daddy almost said a bad word, but he’s very smart and he stopped just in time before you could-“ in the middle of my lecture, the phone stops ringing and I sigh in disappointment.

At this point, I might as well just call it a day and conclude that I am NOT good at adulting.

“Your phone is next to the Nintendo,” Eunmi tells me and I turn around – sure enough, my phone is right there, as if it is mocking me with ha-ha, you blind loser attitude. However, my daughter is a priority and the fact that she did not point the phone’s location out until it stopped ringing.

“You knew it was there, didn’t you?”

“No,” she shakes her head. While she can have her moments, she’s not that big of a liar. And even if she was, I can call her bluff and I can tell she’s not lying now. “It shined when it stopped ringing.”

“What is it doing next to the Nintendo anyways?” I mumble as I reach towards it.

“You put it there last night when we were playing Super Mario.”

Oh. Yeah, I did. Not only am I not good at adulting but my five year old is better at adulting than I am.

“Thanks for helping, sweetie. Now eat your veggies and don’t even smell that cake before you eat all the carrots,” I warn her, smiling when I see her stuffing her face with little carrot pieces, just so that she could eat the cake sooner. “Easy there, the cake won’t run anywhere,” I laugh as I go over and see the missed call. I call it instantly. I might not be responsible when it comes to answering the phone but who the hell would call me on Christmas Day?

“Hello?” a female voice responds.

“Hi, yeah, I just got a missed call from this number.”

Can I sound more awkward? Like, is it actually possible?

“Oh! Jeongguk, is it you?”

“Yeah?” I frown in confusion.

“Oh, sorry. It’s Park Gayoon, Eunmi’s kindergarten teacher.”

Oh shit.

“Oh. You could have just said Gayoon though, I would have connected the dots,” I laugh awkwardly, only realizing how pathetic I sound when the words already leave my mouth. God, it’s like I’m losing my ability to talk like an adult. Although in my defense, I was absolutely not expecting her to call.

I mean, it’s Christmas. There’s no reason for it. We barely even properly talked yesterday and the mistletoe incident is still bruising my ego. I mean, she didn’t even consider it!

“Oh, I would have guessed so but since I’m calling on official kindergarten business, I thought it might be better to remain professional,” she explains.

“Oh. Well in that case, what can I do for you today, Miss Park?” I ask and honestly, if she wasn’t able to hear me, I would have breathed out a sigh of relief when she chuckled. It’s nice to know that not every single one of my comments sounds as idiotic as I think it does. “Also, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you get my number?”

Because if she got it the way I think she did, I will murder both Hyejin and Namjoon. Perhaps even Moonbyul and Yoongi too, if they had something to do with it. None of them would surprise me, since they love to use good intentions as an excuse to tease me and this would be a perfect chance.

“I founded in the student’ documentation,” she tells me. Oh. Okay. Makes sense, seeing as she has already pointed out she’s calling as a teacher, not a chick I saw twice in my life. “I apologize for calling you, I mean, it’s Christmas, Marry Christmas, by the way, but you left your wallet here yesterday.”

“I have?”

“Well, unless you have a doppelgänger who shares the same name as you do, yes.”

“I haven’t even realized,” I sigh, yet again disappointed in myself. Who does that? Seriously, who does that? I have zero control over my life, I feel like I’m a dumb teenage boy all over again. I can’t find my phone, ever, I lost my wallet and fuck, I can’t even stop myself from cursing in front of my daughter! Why can’t I just be… a proper grownup?! “Okay,” I sigh, trying to think of something. I can always call Jin to babysit. “I know it’s Christmas so could you just… hide the wallet somewhere near the kindergarten? I will drive out to come and get it. You don’t have to wait for me, I’d feel bad if you’d be stuck at work for Christmas.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she chuckles. “I only checked for the ID, but I am pretty positive your driver’s license is currently in my hands.”

Damn it.

“Yep, it is,” I sigh. “I’ll take a cab then, I can’t risk driving without it and having the cops-“

“No, don’t waste money. Besides, how will you pay for it?” she chuckles again. “Look, I can stop by your place and just give it to you. I will be on my way home in half an hour anyways.”

“Oh no, I can’t let you do that,” I shake my head. It’s Christmas, for the love of everything! She should be with her family or doing whatever the hell she wants to do, not be my delivery service. “You can leave it at the kindergarten and I’ll figure something out, I really don’t want to bother you.”

“I won’t be trekking through miles of snow,” she tells me. “It’s just a short drive.”

“Is it on your way at least?” I ask, realizing that she probably isn’t going to back down.

“Not really, no,” she answers honestly. “But I can’t leave you without money and identification. The cops are looking for drunk drivers left and right today, I was stopped earlier. I’ll just call you when I’m close to your place and you can meet me on the street or something?” she suggests.

“Yeah, I can do that,” I nod. “I’m so sorry about this Gayoon. Miss Park. Miss Gayoon. I don’t know.”

“Gayoon is just fine,” she laughs at my confusion because of course she does. “No need to apologize, it can happen to everyone. I’ll call you when I’m near, okay?”

“Wait, how do you know where I live?” I ask once I realize she hasn’t asked me for an address.

“Well, I did have to look at Eunmi’s documents to get your number and your address is conveniently written down,” she laughs. “Not to mention you talked about your neighborhood at Hyejin’s dinner party. It is both a blessing and a curse to have a good memory. And after all, I do have your ID in my hands.”

I need to end this call before I embarrass myself further. “Yeah, point taken. Okay, just let me know when I need to get down.”

“Sure. See you soon.”

“Thank you,” I end the call and turn to Eunmi, who was happily eating a piece of cake. The little rascal didn’t wait for my permission, but at least her lunch was eaten completely, carrots and all.

“Sweetie, I’m going to have to run out the house for a minute or two soon,” I tell her and she nods, mouth full of chocolate cake. “Do you want to come with me?” I check. Actually, scratch that, she is coming with me. As smart as she is, there is no way in hell I am leaving a five year old alone, not even for a minute. “Yeah, you’re coming with me. Miss Gayoon is going to bring me my wallet, I left it in your kindergarten. This way you can wish her a Merry Christmas, okay?”

“Miss Gayoon is coming?” her face lights up in a second. For someone who has never mentioned Miss Gayoon before, at least not to me, she sure does like her.

“Yes, she’s doing me a big favor.”

“Why don’t we invite her here?” Eunmi asks me. “I know she likes chocolate cake a lot.”

Good question, why don’t we? The girl is doing me a favor, a favor she didn’t have to do at all. She is driving to the other side of town, on Christmas, to do me a favor. I know she said that she owes me for pretending to be Santa for one day, but this wasn’t necessary. The least I can do is invite her inside for some cake or maybe a drink – especially seeing since Eunmi obviously wants that too.

On the other hand, do I really need to create more opportunities to embarrass myself? More time with her is just more time for me to look like a complete idiot in front of her. Which is hardly the end of the world because of ‘the mistletoe incident’.

Be a decent human being and make my daughter happy or save the last pieces of my dignity?

Ugh, what is wrong with me? How the hell did I even get Yuri to like me, much less give birth to my daughter?! I suppose that after years of generally avoiding women, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that I get tongue-tied in front of one. Not to mention she’s pretty.

“Okay, fine,” I sigh, ignoring Eunmi’s confused look. “We’ll invite her.”

Let’s just wait and see how much I will regret this.

 I wonder what’s worse, an old school paper map or GPS because based on my experience, both come from the deepest pits of hell. I have been circling around the neighborhood, trying to find number 19, not even considering the option of calling him again. Sure, my sense of direction is absolutely horrible but does that really need to be public knowledge?

I was about to circle once again, when I noticed someone stepping from one of the buildings onto the empty street. I lean over the passenger’s seat to try to see through the window if it’s him or not, but before I do, I see a little ball of fluff in a pink jacket – I’d recognize that jacket anywhere.

There is no way I didn’t drive around that building at least twice – but at least I don’t have to do it the third time. I stop the car pretty much in front of them. It takes me a few seconds to turn off the engine and grab Jeongguk’s wallet – as soon as I do, I rush outside to greet them.

Eunmi catches my eye immediately, looking even cuter than usual, in the bright pink fluffy jacket that looks as if it’s about to swallow her whole. My heart melts instantly when she smiles brightly at me.

“Miss Gayoon!” she waves at me in the speed of light.

“Hey sweetie,” I chuckle at her excitement before looking over to her father. “Here’s the wallet,” I smile, handing him the brown, leather wallet. I nearly chuckle once I register his outfit because he looks just as fluffed up as Eunmi, with a hoodie and a large, green puffy jacket over it. I haven’t seen him with glasses before – he looks even younger with them than without them.

“Thank you, you’re a life saver,” he tells me.

“Hardly,” I laugh at his expression. Sure, it’s nice of me, I have a kind heart and so on and so on but life saver? Nope. “I’m happy to help. Anyways, I don’t want to hold you back from your plans. I wish you both a Merry Christmas.”

“Miss Gayoon, stay with us,” Eunmi speaks up before Jeongguk could beat her to it. It’s quite comical to watch him, a grown adult, throw a glare at his little girl. A glare that turns into a head tilt and a soft chuckle. Busted, I suppose. “We have cake.”

“We were going to invite you properly but Eunmi here seems to be very excited,” Jeongguk explains, giving the girl a pointed look, which she doesn’t even register as she’s still smiling at me. I look back at Jeongguk, wondering if he’s being forced into it by Eunmi. “A cake for a favor?” he suggests.

“We keep offering each other food in exchange for favors,” I point out.

“Oh well,” he shrugs. “Food is the best.”

“I agree,” I nod. “I don’t want to impose though, I don’t want to interrupt your family time,” I tell him. From what I know, Eunmi lives mostly with her mother, so I can only imagine that Jeongguk doesn’t have too much time to spend with her. The last thing I want to do is to impose on his time with her.

“No, you wouldn’t,” he shakes his head. “Unless you have somewhere to be, you’re more than welcome to join us. Coffee? Cake? Super Mario?” he suggests, at which Eunmi very literally starts jumping up and down in place.

Damn it. Even if I was able to refuse him, I sure as hell am not able to refuse Eunmi.

I could think of at least 10 reasons why this is highly inappropriate but it all kind of falls into water when I remind myself that I am even friends with the parents of the kids I teach. If I can have lunch with Hyejin, nothing makes this situation inappropriate.

Except the fact that it’s their apartment. And while Hyejin is… well, one hell of a woman, I don’t bat for the same team. The again, as cute as Jeongguk can seem, he’s really not the type I’d ever go for, father of one of the kiddos or not.

I’m just confusing myself. The truth is, I adore Eunmi and I’m weak enough to be peer pressured by a five year old. And I like chocolate cake.

“Well, if you add Super Mario into the mix… Sure, why not?” I agree with a small smile.

[donttellpeterparker]

Euro Trip

Summary: A trip of a lifetime right? Going abroad with your friends and the guy you were head over heels for... how could anything possibly go wrong?

Requested: No

Word Count: 2k+

Warning(s)?: FFH Based, Please don't read if you haven't seen FFH

masterlist (xx) request (xx)

——————————————————

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Euro Trip

''I have a plan!'' Ned turns to look out Peter with a confused expression.

''Okay, first, I am going to sit next to Y/N on the plane, second-''

''Wait what?'' Ned cuts in. immediately starting to disagree with Peter's idiotic plan to win you over.

''I'm going to buy a dual headphone adapter and watch movies with her on the plane, the whole time, third-''

''Okay...'' Ned buts in again, his eyes searching the classroom for you. You were currently sitting over with your friends, writing something down in your book.

However, Peter just ignores Ned's hostility and continues on.

''Three, while we are in Venice I was thinking of getting her flowers, though she doesn't really like flowers but she loves the Sunflower and Red rose combo so I figured I'll get her that but on a necklace instead-''

''Nice...''

''Then five, when we get to Paris, I am going to take her to the top of the Eiffel Tower, give her the necklace and tell her how I feel and... step six.... hopefully she feels the same way'' Peter eyes dart across to you as he uttered the last part, watching in awe as you tilted your head back and laugh at whatever it was your friends were talking about.

''Oh and don't forget step seven'' Peter's eyes go back to Ned in confusion.

''Step seven?''

''Yeah, don't do any of that'' Peter tries to hold in his scoff.

''Why?'' Why wasn't Ned on board with this plan, it was a fool proof plan. Peter had gone over every possible scenario and this was the best one, even Karen agreed. Though admittedly, he was slightly embarrassed that he talked to his A.I about this.

''Because I wanna be Bachelors in Europe!'' Now Peter scoffs.

''Man...''

''No seriously, I may not know much as a guy but I do know this, Europeans love Americans... and more than half of them are women!''

''Okay... sure... but I really like Y/N, okay? She's awesome, she's super funny in a kinda dorky way and sometimes I catch her looking at me and I feel like she-''

''Oh shh! She's coming'' Ned and Peter quickly both shut up and glance down at their work sheets in front of them which were both already done of course.

''Hi dorks, excited about the science trip?'' I spoke up with a smile, glancing at both of them. However Peter glanced up at me nervously, already feeling himself getting tongue tied.

''H-hi... o-oh yeah we were just... talking about the trip'' Peter plays with his pen in his hand to try and get himself to focus a little. His heart was beating faster and faster by the second. The crush he had developed on you came on very sudden, almost immediately when you guys became friends. I gave them both a weird look but thought nothing of it seeing as Peter was always like this. It was honestly the cutest thing to me.

''Yeah well, Peter's plan'' Ned interjects. Peter stiffens as his eyes widen.

''You have a plan?'' I asked Peter, my eyes never leaving his. God they were so chocolaty brown...

''Oh no I... I don't have a plan'' He had wanted to kill Ned so badly right now.

''Oh he's just going to be doing a bunch of school work while we are on the trip and collect some dining spoons from each continent'' Peter felt relieved with the smooth lie Ned had told you yet stiffened once again at the last part he had said. My eyes now glanced over both of them suspiciously.

''Like a grandmother?'' I had no filter with anything so I was always quite blunt. Peter's eyes widen as he quickly shake his head, pointing his pen towards Ned.

''No he'll be collecting spoons I'll just be... uhhh... doing my school work.. yep'' He glanced down now and fiddled with his pen a little more.

''Okay umm... that was a little bit of a roller coaster'' I tried to joke as all of us emitted strained laughs.

''Little tip, download a VPN so the government can't track you while we are gone'' I furrowed my eyebrows to myself once I heard how stupid I had sounded.

''Smart... will do'' Peter compliments, smiling at me. I couldn't help but to smile back and nod my head, not liking the effect he seemed to always have on me.

''Bye'' I gave them both a small wave before quickly walking past them as soon as the bell chimed. Both Peter and Ned turned to look at each other, Ned smiled.

''Well I think that went well'' Peter just shook his head and dropped it on the table, exhaling his breath he hadn't even known he was holding.

~*~*~*~*

''Okay come on guys, single file line please!'' Mr Harris had looked more stressed then ever, frantically moving his hands in the air while they were still holding his clipboard. He always stresses when it comes to trips of any kind and honestly I could see why. He could barely keep his shirt buttoned never mind keeping a hoard of teenagers in check. Though Mr Fitz was well calm, probably because of the mini pillow comfortably around his neck as he was taking a day nap standing up.

''God I am so excited! I can't wait for the 8 hour plane ride! The boats we'll take to the hotel! All the different Museums we'll visit, the food, the wine-'' I swiftly laughed and put my hand over my best friends mouth to stop her from rambling.

''Calm down okay? We haven't even boarded yet'' I smiled softly to myself even though I felt like rolling my eyes.

''I know but this is so exciting!'' It was exciting, though if I was going to have to listen to her ramble on for the next 8 hours stuck in a confined space I would go insane.

''Hey he's staring again'' I turn my head to my best friend and over to Brad in the distance, his eyes immediately locking with mine. In reality he was 5 years younger then me, one of my friends kid brother yet since the blip, he aged whereas I didn't.

Not gonna lie though, those 5 years had turned him into practically a Greek God.

''He would put Zeus to shame...'' I watched as she stared lovingly at Brad, it honestly made me a little sick to my stomach. Yeah he was good looking but a total jackass too.

''Isn't that the guy who had two man ponies? no one looks good in a man pony'' Her smile instantly fell from her face as she turned to glare at me. I laughed as she stormed off, joining the rest of the class in the line up.

''Now Boarding flight 2376 to Venice Italy, please make your way to gate 37 for your departure in 20 minutes'' A woman's voice came over the PA system.

''Okay guys hurry up! let's go! We are not having a repeat of what happened last time! Move it!'' Mr Harris lungs would eventually die out soon from all the screaming. I smiled to myself as I followed the class, getting gently shoved along by the teacher to hurry up.

''You did practically insult my soul mate but, who are you sitting next to on the plane?'' My best friend turned to face me while the others began boarding in front.

''I'm not sure'' I shrugged my shoulders, looking straight ahead. I could see the familiar brown locks in front, smiling towards the stewardess before walking through the gate. My best friends eyes follow and she snickers.

''Hopefully it's not next to Penis Parker'' Sometimes I had wondered why I was even friends with her, she was ruder than me.

''Y/F/N, stop'' She knew I liked him so she did everything she could to bug me about it.

''What? I'm just saying, I heard he snores like, really loud'' I laugh at her and push her along to the front.

''Whatever dork''

~*~*~*~*

The plane was a lot more bigger than I had imagined. It was probably a very bad time to begin getting claustrophobic. I popped in my ear phones and played some calming music to ease my nerves. I hadn't even been on a plane before till now.

''Do you want the first shift or second? I could take either'' Mr Harris spoke up to Mr Fitz from just a little in front.

''Give me the third shift'' I laughed softly to myself.

''I can't chaperone these kids alone'' Mr Harris complains as he walks over to his seat as Mr Fitz walk further onward, immediately sitting down getting ready to take a nap.

''Hey Peter, this is called an airplane, it's like the buses you're used to except it fly's over your crappy town, not drive through them'' I was beyond annoyed once again with Flash.

''Hey ma'am, he blipped so technically he's 16, not 21'' I smiled as she turned to Flash and took the alcoholic beverage right out of his hand.

''Hey what are you doing? I don't even know this girl'' Flash yelled in the distance. I smiled and turned around to smile at Peter. He smiled back in thanks. I continue down the aisle and find my seat. I was beyond grateful that it wasn't next to my best friend who would definitely talk my ear off the entire time.

~*~*~*~*

''I need your help to get me to sit next to Y/N'' Peter turned to Ned swiftly once he saw Brad make his way up to you, having a quick conversation before taking a seat in the row before.

''No, what about our plan? Bachelors in Europe'' Peter stares at Ned in disgust.

''That was your plan, not mine, mine's foolproof'' Ned rolls his eyes and sighs.

''Not entirely...'' Ned mumbles to himself but Peter just ignored him, glancing over at his best friend with puppy dog eyes.

''Alright fine'' Ned gets up and begins walking over to your row. I glance up and offer a smile, noticing Ned seemed a little on edge.

''Hey guys'' Jenny from beside me just nodded her head, not really interested in conversing.

''There's an old lady sitting in front of us and she's wearing like a crazy amount of perfume and it's setting off Peter's allergies, you know Jenny, if you could just switch places with Peter real quick-'' Ned was speaking so fast I almost didn't hear him.

''He's allergic to perfume?'' Jenny asked incredulously. Ned paused and looked deep in thought. My eyes scan his face, seeing if he was lying or not.

He definitely was.

''Yeah, yeah umm... it makes his eyes water'' Mr Harris turns around from in front of us and his eyes widen.

''You said Peter had a perfume allergy?'' Ned looked mortified as Mr Harris shot out of his seat real quick.

''Uhh...'' Ned stumbled.

''I know from experience that a perfume allergy is no joke!'' I tried to stifle a laugh as Mr Harris struggled to get his seat un-buckled as Peter rose in the distance.

''Y/N stand up'' I did as he said and rose as well.

''Y/N, you take my spot, Ned take Y/N's and Peter let's get you up here'' I sat down at my new seat and glanced beside me to see Brad already beaming. Great. However, what I failed to notice was how my best friend was sitting on the other side of him, sending me a glare. I glanced at her and just shrug my shoulders.

''Thanks for bringing this to my attention Ned, everyone's safety is mine and Mr Fitz top priority...'' He trailed off, glancing towards the already snoring teacher fast asleep.

''Well thank you, come on Peter!'' Peter look disgruntled as he grabbed his carry-on bag and followed Mr Harris reluctantly.

''I got a dual headphone adapter if you want to watch a movie?'' Brad asked me, catching me out of my thoughts. I turned to him and smiled.

''Only if it's depressing, or funny'' I joked. Brad laughed and smiled, reaching into his backpack. However just a few rows down from them Peter could hear the conversation perfectly thanks to his spider-senses.

He was completely and utterly guttered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Am I spotting a mini series perhapsss? xx (P.s probably be the same length as ‘One Hell Of A Night’’’

[arigatouiris]

head over heels // b.b — [08]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader [Female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; angst [a lot of it]; mentions of drugs and drug abuse and explicit sexual references; mentions of anxiety, depressive thoughts, suicide, post-traumatic stress; fluff [in later chapters]

Follows events after Endgame, but Tony, Natasha, Steve, Loki are alive in this universe.

Word count: 1455

Author’s Note: It’s been forever! Huehuehue~ Anyway, I want to apologize to every single one of my readers for having left you with no update in so long. My life has hit the worst stage ever since its inception, and I really kept thinking each day that it couldn’t get worse, but the universe has its ways of surprising me. At least I was entertained, right? Okay so, after severe mental health problems and false promises, here’s a short but important chapter just to let ya’ll know that I love you and some days Tumblr is the only reason I can hold on. Thank you for reading and for giving me your love. 

Those who want to be on the tag-list, do send me an ask~

08. monster

✿

Bucky could not look away from the woman beside him. 

She was not only beautiful, but she was kind, offering to help him and rid him of any sort of pain that he was feeling. He watched her, as she picked up one item after another and handed it over to the cashier. After Bucky had discovered her love for grocery shopping, his mind forgot what ‘pause’ meant.

It was as if he was dangling in mid-air, what she did to him was remarkably alluring. She didn’t even have to try to make him forget about any kind of intoxication; she was the best one.

    “I hope I didn’t bore you over there.” [Name] said, smiling shyly to herself.

Bucky chuckled, “Not at all. I didn’t know you liked grocery shopping so much.”

    “There’s always that very satisfying feeling over buying a ripe avocado and fresh greens.” She said, grinning widely at him.

The two of them walked over to the laundromat, handed over the curtains that Bucky needed washed. All this while, he made no effort to even try to clean his house and even now, it was all her. She handed the clothes in, she spoke to the guy about it being washed separately, she was doing everything—and all was for him. He rubbed a hand over his bearded face, a face he couldn’t get to shaving in so long, and felt a tad bit ashamed.

He felt ashamed of being taken care of by a woman who knew her own fair share of pain. A share of pain he knew nothing about.

While the two of them were walking back, it was [Name] who broke the silence.

    “You’re awfully quiet, Bucky. Is something the matter?”

Her voice was so dignified. He couldn’t even think of how anyone could call her a monster.

    “I just…” He didn’t know how to put his shame into words. He gulped once before shaking his head, feeling his breath begin to shake a little. He turned and looked at her, searching her eyes for some words he may be able to use, but it was pointless. She stole all words from him without effort.

    “Bucky…” She said, tilting her head, her eyebrows going upwards, her face looking sad.

    “Doll, you really didn’t have to do any of this.” Bucky blurted it out in one go.

A moment later, she sighed before turning back and walking in silence. The winter soldier felt as if he had ruined a chance before he had even been given one, and there he walked; in silence right beside her. His mind was blank, and he knew she was simply trying to help, but he was feeling so many things. He was feeling lost and hopeful all at the same time, and there was a pang of meaningless guilt attached to his hope that made it seem all the more surreal.

It was a pain to even exist, and here she was trying to make him see things differently. He had no idea how he could change after being broken so irreparably.

Once they reached Bucky’s apartment, which ceased to look anything like his apartment used to, Bucky stood in the middle of his hall. He was basking in the sunlight that he had no idea could enter his house and he felt fresh tears sting the corner of his eyes. He almost felt weightless, as if a sudden revelation hit him that he could maybe, live a life of his own.

A soft caress caused his eyes to widen, but his body wasn’t sharp. He watched with literal fear as [Name] placed her palm on his bearded cheek. She was inches away from him, touching him, looking at him the way no one had looked at him before.

    “You need a shave.”

He wasn’t sure if her voice was a whisper or not. He felt her caress rub across his cheek with such kindness, Bucky believed he was dreaming. She rubbed circles under his eyes, relaxing the skin that she touched. A second later, her other hand caressed his other cheek—both palms cupping his face. She wiped the tears away before they even fell.

    “[Name]...”

    “You don’t have to let me help you,” She said, her voice a whisper. “But, trust me a bit when I say that I want to.”

    “But, why?”

Perhaps, it was this question that was eating at him all this while. It wasn’t just the guilt, it wasn’t just the sorrow of having murdered so many people before, and having had no control over his actions; it was simply because he couldn’t understand why [Name] was trying to hard to help a man like him. A monster like him.

He wanted to know why. He wanted her to tell him that she cared, and that it was kindness after all that was giving him another chance. He wanted her to assure him as no one ever did before, as Steve had tried and failed so many other times. He wanted her to be the one to tell him that he might still be worthy of going away as a human should.

But, what she told him gave him the world.

    “Because I’ll be lying to myself if I said I didn’t love you even a little bit.”

He felt as if his breath was stuck in his throat. He felt an ache in every gap between his bones, but the weight of his existence did little to weigh him down now. He wanted to hold her, but he didn’t know how all of a sudden. She seemed ethereal, she seemed too good to be true.

    “I can’t give you what you want, [Name].” His voice broke at the end, and he didn’t care if she saw him crying.

She shook her head before taking one step closer to him, “You already have, Bucky.”

Another chance, she thought before bringing his face down, embracing him. Bucky’s forehead was resting on her shoulder, as [Name] cradled him till he calmed down. There were many things the two of them didn’t know about each other, but that cancels out everything. Here was a man in need, reaching out because there was a woman in need doing the reaching.

It was almost symbiotic.

    “You don’t know what I’ve done.” Bucky warned her, not to push her away but to see if she’ll stay despite it all.

    “Bucky, there are things you don’t know about me, too.” This time, she wasn’t smiling.

You should have burned with him, their voices screamed in her ear. She shut her eyes a bit as Bucky pulled away. She felt his hand touch her cheek, her eyes opening wide. She looked up at him staring at her.

    “I take it we need more dates like these?” He asked, a failed attempt at flirting.

    “You call this a date?” She teased back, standing on her tiptoes, reaching his face.

    “I hope you don’t regret this, [Name]. Because if you enter this… cave, there’s no easy way out.”

    “I’m in too deep already, Barnes.” She whispered, pressing her lips to his nose, and pulling away.

Before things went any further, Bucky knew he had to say it. And he would blame himself for the rest of his life if he didn’t.

    “[Name], I love you.”

✿

    “I’m going to make some breakfast.” [Name] said, grinning and running into the kitchen.

    “But, it’s way past noon.” Bucky said, narrowing his eyes.

    “Breakfast food is always the best.”

Bucky rolled his eyes before following after her, wanting to help out. He watched as she got to work, again humming a song he barely knew. He didn’t know what they were at the moment, but whatever they were he was only hoping that they were close to the road of ‘happy’. He walked and stood right behind her, watched as she put up her hair into a bun.

He normally wouldn’t let his eyes wander the way they were at the moment, but he was basking in her appearance right then, as she stood in his kitchen making breakfast food. He observed her messy hair thrown into a bun, he observed the color of her skin on her cheek and as his eyes wandered to the nape of her neck, he caught an inscription of something he swore he will never forget.

A seven-digit number. He was familiar with every kind of serial number there was. His eyes narrowed as he tried to take a closer look, the tag of her shirt masking the whole thing.

But, what he did take a glimpse of had given him an answer, but an incomplete one.

[Name] had been incarcerated. A former inmate of prison life.

✿

series taglist:

@miamua-posts  @yourwonderbelle @kissingg-incars @tanya-diggory @s-0-ldat @iheartsebastianstan @taliarosej00 @coraz0ndcristal @vlogsquadbss @azriels-forgotten-shadow @gogoca @undiadeestos @justtrynagetthroughlife @sakurabl0ss0m @twshood @mercurybarnes @elsie2018

[chrisemrysfics]

What are you thankful for?

To be honest, it’s rather correct to say pretty much everything in my life. Or to be precise, I can find gratitude in any aspect of my life.

I have an amazing mother, whose support has been fundamental to heal from the deep trauma I had as a child, and all the wounds gained through the teenage years of not quite understanding other people, of feeling deeply sensitive. Her support was also fundamental to being able to feel free to pursue my dream career, to feel free to talk about anything, and in turn through the years I’ve had the immense pleasure to see my mother grow herself, learn for me when I learned in ways she couldn’t due to her own environment growing up. She is my best friend and through the years, I’ve known how truly amazing it is to have her. She always said that she raised us in the way that she was not raised, that she told herself I won’t do this to my children. She wanted us to feel free, to find happiness, and she’s taken both the roles of father and mother. She always look to know if I’m happy, if she isn’t putting too much on me, and she honestly gets too hard on herself, however I’m also very grateful that in the past few weeks, she’s really grown into the sincere wish to love herself and take care of herself.

I have a brother that, despite his own issues, has always been present, has always shown us he loves us, has never liked to see us hurt. What’s truly amazing is that, due to the way my own father treated him once I was born (I rarely say it and I forget it genuinely most of the time, but we’re half siblings), my brother wasn’t kind to me at first, not in violent ways, and honestly I can’t recall, but from what I understand, he was a bit mean to me, distant, easily angered. But my mother made him see my father’s fault were not my own, and when he allowed himself to care for me rather than see me as the reason my father stopped being nice to him, he showed he cared. I think it has surprised him recently to see me truly evolve into an independent person, to my deepest self, as I think he never quite realized I wasn’t a child, teen, anymore. I know I’ll always be his little sibling, despite the joke we often had that it felt more like we were twins. But I know who my brother is in his heart, and him, mom and I, we’re a team.

I have had short terms friendships, with classmates, in general that didn’t last once we weren’t in the same classes anymore, though with some we shared multiple years in the same classes. I’ve had friends on internet who drifted away after a while, and I’ve had a childhood friend that we spent years as friends, before the way we lived our lives just didn’t seem to fit anymore. All these people, I have shared happy moments, and I’m thankful for them all. It’s a blessing that almost all the time, it’s never been argument that has separated us, but a genuine drifting away, where it just happened, that we felt less and less pulled to talk until it stopped. I have had friends I choose to cut off from my life, but I will never forget the good times, and I was blessed to have one come back into my life two years later, and gratefully we also both evolved, the issues that pushed me to cut ties was not present anymore and we were able to discuss things honestly.

The friends I have now, there is so much I feel grateful about. They helped me evolve as a person, to be more honest, to be more open, and I know I still need to learn to open up more. They supported me, even financially at times, and no matter what, I know our bonds are strong, and to me, they are family. The same way my mother and brother are family of heart rather than blood for me, the friends I have now are also heart family. I feel cared for by them, and I feel so blessed to have them in my life.

I also know good people in the two, three servers I’m active in, I tend to be a quiet person in group settings, yet I feel at home in these servers, with these people, and I feel known by them. I also feel very grateful to the people I can see regularly rebloging or liking my posts. And I feel grateful for all the readers I get, and how I can be assured to see kudos mails at least once every two days, if not everyday. Sometimes it’s one, or two, sometimes more, sometimes two/three days do pass at least, but I don’t think I have ever seen a full week pass without at least one or two kudos mail. And that’s so amazing, to know every week, there’s at least one person who read my fic that I can see did so.

I feel grateful that I have my own space, my own home in my mom’s home, we have struggled in the past and sometimes we still do, but our situation vastly improved in the past two years, a big part when mom finally entered retirement. We always made it work, and it’s easier now. It’s way easier to feel free to buy food, to treat ourselves from times to times, and I’m grateful for every single moment I can buy anything for the household, necessities and treats and gifts alike.

I’m so, so grateful I feel free to write, to be a writer. Inspiration, imagination, building worlds and stories, it’s such a core part of myself, and to write as my main activity, it feels like I am constantly indulging myself. In truth, it is my career because it is what I’m legally marked as (independent writer), but in practice? I’m just living my life, freely and happily. I write, I take care of my mom, I relax, I live my days. And there is so much more than being focused on “how much do I earn each month” because there is so much that matters. For the longest while, while sometimes I felt like a burden and had to talk myself up from that mood, I would know that, if I can’t financial support, I can emotional support, I can do a lot of stuff. When I finally did the papers for a governmental allowance, and it passed, finally I could do more, though as seen from this month, sometimes a end of month can be a bit harder. But what I prefer to see is, before we had my brother often help us, and now, for the most part I can help. And whenever there has been support, I’ve always felt so grateful I would spazz internally.

I also feel very grateful to have found my spiritual path, I’m a curious person by nature, and there is so much you can learn, and then you find what feels right to you, what feels good, what makes you heal yourself more, what helps you. It isn’t that spirituality has made me a better person, it’s that it taught me to love myself in its truest definition, and in turn, I am able to truly show who I am at the core. What I believe in is between me and myself, and anyone who doesn’t judge (whether or not they believe in the same ways), I have no shame and no fear of speaking about my beliefs, of course certain things are more personal, and I don’t feel it’s necessary to broadcast it. But I don’t hide it either, because this is also part of me. The confidence it has given me, the joy in life, the ability to perceive in different manners, I am so grateful for it. To be spiritual is to believe in beings that are non-physical, and to me, those beings have been a very strong source of support and love.

So, as you can see, there is a lot I can be grateful for, and I didn’t even touch details. I’ll feel grateful for finding a fic I like to read, I’ll feel grateful for finding this special offer, I’ll feel grateful for the fun of gaming, and so on. The more I have voiced to myself what I feel thankful about, the more I have seen that there is so much you can be happy about it. And feeling happy is something I feel grateful for in itself! But feeling sad too, I’m thankful it allows me to express what hurts, what I long for, etc. I’m grateful for anger as it will show me when a boundary is crossed, when something doesn’t feel just, etc.

I’m going deep here but to finish: I am deeply grateful to the very ability to feel grateful. It’s more than just feeling gratitude to being able to find things I’m grateful for, it’s the very feeling. If there was absolutely nothing in my life I genuinely felt grateful about, then the feeling of gratitude that exist, and that is lacking, would tell me everything in my life need to change, and I would be grateful that gratitude exist to let me know what needs to change, what is making me unhappy. So gratitude in itself is a blessed feelings, all feelings are, but when you ask yourself what you are grateful about, feeling the emotion is the first gratitude in your life.

[shadowed-yet-vibrant]

Four years ago, I fit the jeans that I’d always wanted to. I walked without my thighs even grazing one another, with dainty fingers that could pick at my food with reserve and hesitation. Sweaters hung off of my skeletal frame in the same way they did on the girls in every aesthetic photo album that I aspired to become. I was a walking model of black-and-white, nothing more than ribs with shadows between them. 

Today, I fill out the same size pants that I did five years ago. The numbers on the scale are the highest they’ve ever been, three digits that I would have never dared to repeat. I have to ask for medium shirts, and pray that the waistband on my jeans hit me right. I feel disgusted with my body more often than not, and every morning in the mirror is another minute wasted in self-loathing. 

See, the problem is, I hated myself back then, too. I would have rather died than had any flesh left at all. And sometimes, I still think the same. 

But all those years ago, there was only one thing in my life: my eating disorder. Each day was carefully spent planning meals, exercise, how I could throw away the dinner my mother made, how I could hide the clothes that no longer fit me. Hours spent logging each gram of food that went into my body, walking through the aisles of the supermarket knowing well that the only thing I was going to buy that day was an apple and more store-brand Splenda. The thought of going out to a restaurant made me shake and heave in ungodly fear, and I spit out excuses to miss birthdays, graduations, celebrations of joy.  

Today, my thighs rub against each other as I sit down at the local taco restaurant with a group of friends, and we laugh as we recall that day’s journeys. I buy a medium shirt at a festival that doesn’t have a single one of my safe foods, but I still eat so I can spend a day up at the barricade, screaming the words to the songs I love so much. I eat a granola bar that’s more chocolate than protein as I run from a class at one of the nation’s best universities to a job in one of the most important cities in the world. When I get home for the night, I make myself a thoughtful dinner as I sit down to write new content for the online magazine that I now contribute to. My dreams have come true, but in filling out the diary of my desires, I have also filled out my waist. 

And at the end of the night, I still log my calories. It’s the one ghost that still clings to me, a spectre of a darker time. Sometimes, I see that number, and I feel the shame burn deep in my gut, and I know the next morning I’m going to poke at my stomach in the mirror, pinch at my thighs. But I’ll take a deep breath, cover my flesh with a shirt that tells of my many adventures, and go on my day. Because while I have gained weight, I’ve also gained my freedom in a stunning life of my own design.  

[pellicano-sanguino]

Wasted potential in fiction is worse than a story that’s just bad overall.

If someone had asked me couple years ago what vampire books I liked the most, one I would have definitely brought up was Vampire Winter by Lois Tilton. 

It’s a post-nuclear story, where a vampire is at first joyful that the fallout clouds cover the sun both day and night so he is free to hunt whenever he wants but things get worse rather soon. Turns out humans who have been exposed to the radiation have turned undrinkable, poisonous for even vampires. Also, the amount of survivors is small and getting lesser by the day as desperate people leave their shelters to find food and supplies and run from looters, risking radiation poisoning. The vampire who used to kill his victims without mercy is at a situation where he can’t afford to lose a single healthy human to avoid starvation. So he strikes a symbiotic deal with a bunch of humans: since he is unaffected by radiation, he will wander out and bring them food, medicine, even books to pass their time, in exchange for blood donations. This is what I remembered from the book, and thought it good, because I’m a sucker for interesting relationship dynamics between a vampire and their donors.

However, I re-read the book recently and was surprised. It wasn’t nearly as good as I remembered it. The interesting symbiotic relationship between the vampire and his donors only lasts a short period of the book and then they go their separate ways and the vampire for some weird reason just goes back to killing his victims again. Also, there was a lot of completely unnecessary violence towards women. The book tries to have a message of “in hard times it’s better to spare lives and co-operate than divide into groups all against each other” and that “every life is precious” but then goes and has the donors leave behind a mentally handicapped girl for the vampire to kill because she would just be “a burden” for the survivors. Also, there’s a fucking gang rape scene. I’m...   confused...   how did I ever convince myself this was a good book?!

The problem was that my memories were too focused on the one part of the book I found super fascinating. The vampire-donor symbiosis plot was such a great story idea that I actually forgot the rest of the book is shit. I was too intrigued by the story’s potential I failed to notice it doesn’t properly utilize the great idea it had and just turns into a gross masculine violence fantasy.

It’s a shame, because with little changes, this could have been an awesome book. But it completely wasted its potential and left me much more disappointed than would have been the case if it were just a regular old shitty vampire novel with nothing new and interesting added.

I just finished a new book that has the same problem and it infuriates me. It’s a book that has some really great parts but then goes and ruins everything. This book is called Pure Mua (”Bite Me”) by Terhi Tarkiainen. I know, writing about a Finnish book in Tumblr might be useless, since what are the chances Finnish vampire enthusiasts will find my posts, but I want to vent my frustration about it somewhere. So here goes.

Finnish vampire fiction is a rare species. There are some short stories but the only novel I can think of is Jarkko Laine’s Vampyyri, which is a very...   specific Finnish literature category; a “tuskapaskakirja” (literally, pain-shit-book) where everyone is miserable and things just get more and more depressing until the whole garbage reaches a lame anticlimax like a bowl of ice cream I accidentally put in the refrigerator instead of in the freezer. Not my kind of book. So, when I heard the rare species had spawned a new book, Pure Mua, I got curious.

My expectations about the book were mixed. I generally don’t like modern Finnish literature. The few books of it that I had to read back in high school or by getting them as gifts were at best incredibly boring and at worst insufferable pretentious artsy junk. However, this book looked like it aimed to be entertaining, not fake deep and for intellectuals only. It whispered a promise of genuinely embracing its own cheesiness. And, well, I do like cheese.

So I read the book. And my opinions remain conflicting with one another. I can’t really say if I liked it or not because for every part that was done well there was something that seriously rubbed me the wrong way.

The story itself is really well written. The text flows naturally and is pleasant to read, the narration is occasionally very witty and humorous. The plot twists are unpredictable which is unfortunately rare in this genre. Vampire fiction is so full of reused story ideas that they often turn out rather predictable. But this book surprised me several times. Of course, unpredictability shouldn’t be valued by itself. Writers who intentionally lead the reader in one direction only to pull a carpet under their feet or who make their characters behave in unreasonable and inconsistent manner just to get a juicy plot twist, usually don’t produce good quality stories. These plot twists however feel natural and well planned, not there just for the shock value. The plot also escalates constantly, forcing you to read chapter after chapter because you don’t want to leave it at an intense cliffhanger.

Since the vampire fiction is full of reused story ideas, it’s rare that I come across a book that has something I haven’t seen before. The basic premise of this book is that since vampires aren’t classified as humans, human rights don’t apply to them and there’s a ring of illegal slave trade where a “kennel” produces “specimens” for the rich assholes who want to turn their fantasies of dating a hot vampire into reality. Human trafficking basicly, only with vampires. I have not bumped into this story idea before. Usually the power dynamics are reversed, the vampires being the cruel monsters who do horrible things to humans. I know the whole “humans are the real monsters”-trope is old and overused, but surprisingly rarely does it happen in vampire fiction. I guess it’s because to a lot of friends of this genre vampires are a power fantasy and they wouldn’t enjoy seeing them tamed and subjected to something as horrifying as human trafficking.

So, the book turns the traditional vampire/human power dynamics upside down. However, the protagonist actually doesn’t want the pet vampire her nutty parents bought her as a birthday present. She tries to find a way to safely release him back “into the wild” but has trouble coming up with a solution on how to do it and ensure he won’t be recaptured by the trafficking ring again (since he is chipped). 

Next I’m going to spoil the last plot twist of the book. Turns out the trafficking ring is led not by humans but by a loony communist vampire who has a diabolical plan. He intentionally made vampire pets a trend among the filthy rich and then once every elite household in Finland has one, he intends to shut down the safety chips that give the vampires electric shocks if they attack their masters and let the hungry, abused, vengeful vampire slaves drink all the greedy capitalist pigs.

And this is...   supposed to be the main villain of the book. I’m supposed to be appalled and horrified by this impending slaughter of innocent humans. Well. Does it make me a monster if I say I think this is a great plan? Everyone who buys a personal sex toy from a human trafficking ring deserves to be devoured by ravenous vampires. The fact that the victims of slavery aren’t technically human here changes nothing since their intelligence is identical to ours. And creeps who would buy a vampire would definitely buy a woman or a little girl too. 

Everyone who thinks slavery is a fun hobby that the elite should be allowed to do again deserves to be killed by their slave.

The slavery theme is one of the reasons I have such conflicting opinions about this book. It’s such a horrifying scenario and you really, really want to see the main vampire freed from it, you want to see him and the main character succeed in their attempt to destroy the vampire slave trade. But then the book decides to focus less on the horrors of slavery and...    actually romanticize prostitution. The vampires in this book’s universe are all nymphomaniacs and addicted to sex. Umm...   ok, your world, you do what you want. But I really can’t stand the stereotype of seductive, nymphomaniac prostitutes, who do it because they enjoy their “work”, considering how the harsh reality of prostitution is something completely different. “She likes it anyway” is a lie slimy old men tell one another to feel less guilty when they go to Thailand to “play minigolf.” Hurk. Hork. Barf. I know this is fiction and the vampires aren’t human (and we don’t see female vampires) but I really wish people would stop writing this character type. Also, I hate stories where a noble person saves a prostitute and is “rewarded” by their love (in other words, gets to fuck the prostitute anyway, feeding into the idea that “nice guys” who protect women from creeps deserve sex as a reward.)

I give the book one point for the scene where the protagonist starts to caress her slave when she’s super drunk but then is startled and horrified at what she did, thinking that she has become a monster.

If there’s one thing I hate even more than romanticizing prostitution, it’s sexual violence. Thank goodness this story doesn’t have that but it’s bad enough that one male vampire constantly threatens the protagonist with rape. And I’m supposed to care about this guy and worry about what will happen to him. There’s something so disgustingly...   male...   in the thought process that when you want to hurt someone, your first thought is rape. When a woman sees a person they love being abused by someone, she might beat the abuser into a fine pulp but no, women do not rape, women do not use sex as a torture devise. If a guy gets hard from anger and wants to fuck someone he hates there is something seriously wrong with him and he needs to seek help. Men are scum!

This book isn’t a particularly pleasant read for a feminist anyway. With the exception of the protagonist, all female characters are lazily written, unconvincing, misogynistic cardboard cutouts. Male characters on the other hand are, with the exception of the main villain, painted as flawed but sympathetic. The protagonist has a stalker ex who doesn’t understand the concept of “no.” I was convinced this creep would turn out to be a villain in the end, trying to kill the protagonist because “if I can’t have you, no one else can!” Because everything he said and did kept raising the red flags. But no, I’m supposed to find him charming and loveable and his stupid bratboy jokes soooo hilarious. The book wants me to think of all the women except protagonist as either mean-spirited bitches or dumb blondes (your “I’m not like other girls”-complex is showing...) and feel sympathy towards a creepy stalker and a guy who threatens women with rape. Right. Is this some het culture bullshit or just what exactly am I not getting? Also, if your only way to make the heroine likeable is to turn all the other women into cartoonishly evil or ridiculously immature and stupid so that she'll look better in comparison, the reader will become suspicious of her character (because exaggerating the faults in others while claiming you yourself are perfectly innocent is a strategy used by narcisstic, manipulative jerkfaces).

I’m also rather disappointed that the book relies on stereotyping Fenno-Swedes. Fenno-Swedes are the Swedish speaking minority, descendants from rich Swedes that were given land here back when Finland was part of Sweden. Because many of them are still in the upper class, having inherited their ancestors land and wealth, the middle and lower class Finnish speaking Finns tend to be racist towards them, considering them smug elitists and disgustingly rich capitalists who never had to work for their wealth. Making the main character a Fenno-Swede and then giving her behavior that strengthens the prejudice against “bättre folk” is just really lazy writing, it’s like having a romani character and having her do shoplifting. Sure, the protagonist wants to be different than her gross parents who would buy a sex slave as a gift, but her attitude towards money is the same indifference. Oh, I smashed my phone to pieces because the phone call made me angry. Oh well. Pappa betalar. 

There’s a scene where the protagonist and the stalker ex witness a protest that consists simultaneously of racists who want to close the borders and unemployed who blame the government for their poverty (right. You really want to draw “equals as” sign between crazy nationalist bigots and unfortunate people trapped in unemployment hell? Fuck you, fuck you so much.). The protagonist asks where all this hatred comes from and the stalker ex explains that when a person is in a bad situation in life they seek scapegoats to blame for their troubles, whether that be foreigners or politicians. But since we’ve already gone the route of giving the protagonist stereotypical Fenno-Swede behaviour, why not let her voice the opinion of “If the lower class is angry at the upper class it’s because they project unfair blame onto the rich, surely their suffering has nothing to do with the elite’s greed and misuse of power.” Now, opinions like this wouldn’t matter to me normally, because characters are allowed to be flawed, but when those flaws rely on harmful stereotypes, it’s disappointing.

I want to like this book. It’s so genuine and entertaining and well written. But I threw up in my mouth so frequently while reading it that I don’t think I care to read it another time. If it was written a little differently, I would probably love this book. But there’s no use crying after wasted potential. I can’t help but praise the book for the parts that are really good, but I can’t recommend it either. I would have preferred it to be either all good or all shit, not this mixture of gold and rust.

[mind-racket]

Where Do I Begin?

So here we are...New Year’s Eve 2018. Time for resolutions and drinks and cheese and such.

I’m just gonna be up front and say I don’t have much for 2018. Frankly, even though there was not really one standout sucky thing about it that comes to mind right off, collectively, I hold it in pretty low regards.

It had its moments. Even a sucky year has its moments. I still have a job, Becky’s business continued to do well, and most of my friends and loved ones are still with us. We have a roof over our heads, we have food to eat, and the cats seem as happy as cats can be.

Still...somewhere along the way...the wheels sort of came off, and I’m not even sure I was aware of it as it was happening. I don’t want to overstate it...it was not a careening car crash headlong into a chestnut tree. It was more of a continuous attempt to regain control on an icy bridge.

As has been the case for most of my life, my struggle with weight was probably the dominant factor. I knew as the year started that I had let things get a bit out of control, but it seemed that every attempt to get control of it just led to more trouble.

Since getting diagnosed with high blood pressure a few years ago, I’ve been on a schedule with my doctor to go see him once a year for a checkup. See where the numbers are and all that. I knew it was coming this summer, and I knew I needed to get my shit together before going to see him. I really like him, and for some reason, I find myself wanting to impress him with my progress. Still, with that as a driving force to do better, I struggled to change my bad habits.

There were periods where I felt like maybe I was on track again, but it didn’t take long before I got off track and erased any progress I’d made. Of course, none of this was supported by any real numbers. I refused to step on the scales until I felt like I’d made some progress, which meant that by the time I went for my visit, I had ZERO idea what to expect on the scales.

When I saw the actual number, it took me a second to realize just what I’d seen. My brain did not process it right away, and when it did, all I could say was....well...I wasn’t expecting that. My blood pressure reading was also a little elevated above where it had been staying pretty consistently. As I sat waiting for him to come in, I could almost physically feel myself sinking into a bad place.

When he sat down and we started talking, I just burst into tears right there. I literally could not control it. Shame...sadness...guilt...it all rolled itself up into a hideous little storm inside me and came sweeping across me like a spring storm in Kansas. To his credit, he was SO supportive and comforting. He acknowledged the struggle, said it will probably ALWAYS be that way, and told me to just regroup and get going again. He also asked me to check in by phone in about a month and let him know how things were going.

I didn’t.

30 days later, I was not much less of a mess than I’d been for the previous 200 or so. And, as I sit here typing this on December 31, I can’t honestly say that I’ve done much of anything to alter it since that visit. I don’t know that things have gotten worse, but they certainly haven’t gotten any better.

That ends now.

Not because it is New Year’s Eve (well...not ONLY because it is New Year’s Eve) but because it is time to get my shit together. I have actually been blessed with relatively good health despite the way I’ve treated my body for 47 years. It is time I return the favor to this vessel that has carried my bones and innards around all this time and treat it with the respect and care it deserves before it completely rebels and tells me to go fuck myself.

As expected, these types of struggles with the physical self go hand in hand with a pretty mighty mental struggle. Being preoccupied with my weight and then being even more disgusted with my continued lack of action to correct that preoccupation made for pretty lousy odds at having a clear and focused mind.

Add to that the continued worry about job security, the never-ending question in my head about “what I wanna be when I grow up”, the recurring feeling that I’m falling short on my goals, the disappointment with myself for that failing, and before you know it, the hole is dug.

I won’t call it depression...more of a lingering sadness maybe? Whatever it is, it isn’t as easy to shake off as I’d like it to be. It sort of feeds on itself, and before you know it, it is expressing itself through what you wear, how you take care of yourself, how you control your emotions, where your breaking point is...it just seems to consume ever damn thang.

By the end of July, my efforts to write something here every day had ended with a promise to figure out a new approach with my “journaling”. That figuring never happened, and that was the last thing I had written this year before today.

Over the past few weeks, however, I have been working on bringing about some changes. A couple of months ago, I made some changes at work (helped greatly by the guy that took over as my new boss last year) that made me feel a little better about my job...changes that made me feel like it was more than just fixing people’s shit. I mean...it is still mostly just fixing people’s shit...but now it feels...different.

I also started working on getting back in to taking pictures. I picked up a new vintage lens for my camera and started exploring what exactly it is I want to do with my version of photography going forward.

I’ve never really stopped surrounding myself with music. Happy, sad, whatever...music is ALWAYS a part of my life. I need it, always. As I sit here today, there’s a fantastic record spinning beside me. It isn’t a NEW record (well, it is for me...Beck got it for me for Christmas), but it is a record I’ve wanted to write about and share with everyone.

As the year started, I felt like I was making progress towards creating my space to share things like that with everyone, but it seems like as the reality started to grow that I might actually make it happen, the urge to push away from it grew even faster. It wasn’t something I fostered. I didn’t even realize the pushing away was taking place. But it was. It always has.

It is time, too, for that to end.

As a child, I was successful in the classroom. It all just sort of made sense and clicked. With that came the good grades, and with that came the expectations to continue making those grades. I sort of hit a wall my first year of high school and my first real experience at struggling with a subject. Being that it hadn’t really happened before...that feeling of falling short...and I did not exactly handle it well. It was uncomfortable, and I struggled to process it.

I honestly think that I may have been dealing with some form of attention deficit, be it physical or self-made. Either way, it was a doozy. I can remember trying to read books, getting to the bottom of the page, and having to re-read it because my mind had wandered off onto some other topic. I had no idea why it was happening and even less of an idea on how to fix it, so that just added to the mess.

College started in a very similar way. I began at one school, transferred to another, and switched through several majors along the way because I had never really ever answered the question...what do I wanna be when I grow up?

There were plenty of things I LIKED doing, but I didn’t really feel passionate about ANY of them. I was good at several things, but I wasn’t really GREAT at any particular one of them.

I only add these reflections now because I’m working on figuring out just why I continue to roll boulders right to the top of the hill but struggle with pushing them on across the peak. What I’ve sort of settled on (which is no big shocker) is a fear of failure. An INTENSE fear of failure.

The irony of it is that each time I do this, it IS a failure, but it is often a failure that only I have to know about. I typically toil with these things on my own, only asking for opinions and guidance from others every now and then, but I never really ask for buy in from anyone, so there’s nothing built up for them to watch fall apart.

These aren’t concepts that are completely new to me. I’ve known elements of this all before. I’ve thought about one part or another independently, but I don’t think I’ve ever really tried to deep-dive into it or open the doors up to others so that they can see just what a mess I’ve made in here.

You’re welcome. =)

The unfortunate side effect of trying to keep all of this shit from spilling out into my every day life is that I scatter it all around for my wife to navigate through. And while she deals with it all like a champ and offers the perfect advice every single time, she shouldn’t have to deal with my shit every time I let one of those boulders roll back down the hill.

Another fun side effect of all of this is that I tend to wall myself off socially. Instead of visiting with friends and talking to some of the very people who could probably help me sort some of this shit out and help me grow beyond it, when I do see them, I try to always leave them with a perfect snapshot of me just in case I decide to retreat from society for 2 months...a decision which I inevitably will make.

I don’t know right now how much of this I will share, or who I will choose to share it with. My feeling is that I should open it up to a select group of people I feel closest to, not to free me from the guilt of not living up to my expectations of what it means to be a good friend or to make anyone feel sorry for me, but to shine a light on this failure so that I don’t just tuck it away with everything else and never allow anyone else to hold me accountable for it.

I’ll have to think a little on just how open I want to be.

If you’ve made it this far, well...bless your heart. And no, I’m not fixing to jump off a bridge or drive off in the middle of the night in search of myself. I’m just working some things out and inviting you along for the journey.

Again, you’re welcome. =)

And always hanging like the fucking cloud of Mordor over each and every day?

Trump.

Enough said.

So what about 2019? I’ve said it before, and have managed at various times to follow through on it, but this is going to be a year of change. Physically, mentally, socially...changes are coming.

This is going to be a year of doing more of the things I enjoy, and managing those that I dread.

This is going to be a year of looking forward, not dwelling on what is behind.

This is going to be a year of love...of laughter...of light.

I am not positive the road will rise to meet me or the wind will always be at my back, but I will keep turning towards the sun, hoping that it shines warm upon my face.

If that doesn’t work, I’ll probably just drink.