#and if he’s on me and has to poop he’ll start biting at my cheek to let me know he wants to be put somewhere else to poop

[l3irdl3rain]

Don't remember ever seeing Gonzo before so just read his tags to see when he was adopted, somehow never saw him all these years!

Reading the tags led me to a question, does he still have salpingitis?

Also; I've always wondered, how do you stop flightful birbs from pooping everywhere?

I know Joey is flightless but that's always been a question that pops up when I see indoor birbs (and then forget to Google or ask)

He does not have salpingitis. Thankfully doc ended up being wrong about that. Salpingitis is basically a death sentence. The little man is still doing very well. I just cover his cage every night to try to discourage him from laying more eggs.

In regards to the pooping, you can potty train parrots to only poop in their cage or while on a perch. That being said, parrot poop has basically no smell (unless you let it accumulate for a long time) and it’s relatively easy to clean up. For hard floors you just wipe it up. And even if it gets on something like a couch you can just use a wet cloth and a little scrubbing to clean it off.

[thebonerpit]

a little extra padding [fic]

a little extra padding

Starker, 1515 words, [E]

TW: sexual ageplay/regression, diapers (no watersports!)

Honestly idek. I wish I could fit this in somewhere on my Bingo card but I can’t. Basically, Peter likes wearing a diaper when he’s little and Tony indulges him. No pee/poop involved, just... other fluids. Enjoy the filth!

“Alright Petey, which ones do you want today? Paw Patrol or Disney?”

“PAW PATROL!”

Tony chuckles as he lifts Peter up on to the changing table. “Ok, ok, inside voice, remember?”

“Sorry,” Peter whispers, hiding a cheeky little grin behind his hands.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” Tony says, settling him back and removing his overalls.

“No, ‘m good boy Da, you said!”

“Did I say that? Hmmm I don’t remember saying that…”

Tony reaches into the pouch of the changing table to pull out a fresh Paw Patrol diaper. Luckily, he has enough resources available to him to obtain adult sized diapers with any pattern he could possibly want, without any questions. They had tried normal ones at first but Peter was having trouble fully regressing in the plain diapers made specifically for adults, so Tony pulled some strings. Anything to make his boy happy.

“’m always a good boy,” Peter says, pouting a little as Tony lifts his bum to slide the diaper underneath.

“I know sweet pea, I’m just teasing. You’re behaving so well right now, look, we’re almost done!”

Peter kicks his feet a little but Tony manages to get the sides taped together before he really starts squirming around.

“All done? S’ghetti now?”

Tony reaches down and pulls him to a sitting position so he can tap him gently on the nose with one finger.

“Remember how to ask politely?”

“S’ghetti… please?”

Tony smiles, and Peter smiles right back, a big toothy grin that gives Tony butterflies every time he sees it.

“Spaghetti it is. Let’s go, pumpkin.”

Dinner goes well. Peter is messy but since spaghetti is his favourite he eats every bite without complaint. And it just means that Tony can sneak kisses in between each wipe with a wet towel over his face, which makes Peter giggle. He even behaves while Tony is busy cleaning up the dishes, so he figures he deserves a reward.

“I think you get to pick a movie to watch tonight, mister,” he says, ruffling Peter’s soft curls. He expects an immediate response and mile-a-minute suggestions but instead all he gets is a soft ‘hm’. Frowning slightly, he kneels down so he can be at eye level. “Everything ok, Petey? Does your stomach feel icky?”

Peter shakes his head.

“Hmmm… you don’t want to watch a movie?”

Peter shrugs.

“Sweet pea, I need you to talk to me ok? Use your words.”

“Hm. I just… I just wanna… up?”

Ah. There it is. Tony should have noticed, really, but he was preoccupied with dinner and trying to keep spaghetti sauce stains off Peter’s favourite yellow jumper. Now he watches him squirm in his seat, hands pressed in his lap, a pretty pink flush on his cheeks, and he knows. The diaper isn’t always a sexual thing for them so he never wants to assume, but he knows how much Peter enjoys the sensation of wearing one. And he knows exactly what to do to make him feel even better.

He leans in to kiss Peter softly, chastely, on the lips, and then scoops him up in his arms and settles him on his hip. Peter wiggles a bit until he finds a good spot and then sighs softly.

“Is that better? You like it when Daddy carries you like this?”

Peter nods. His limbs are all wrapped around Tony like a little octopus, and he nestles his chin on Tony’s shoulder.

“Ok then. Let’s walk around for a bit, hm?”

Although Tony isn’t that much taller than Peter, he’s definitely more solid, so Peter feels light in his arms. He carries him from room to room, patting his padded bum with one hand and soothing his back with the other. It doesn’t take long until Peter starts squirming against him more insistently, and he can feel hot breath coming out in little pants against his neck, so he starts bouncing him as they wander around.

“Look up there, Petey, see all the stars?” he says as they stop in front of one of the huge windows in the penthouse.

“Da,” Peter whimpers, obviously not even paying attention to what he’s saying. “More Da, please.”

Tony can’t feel if he’s hard or not through the diaper but he knows he is. He knows Peter likes the feeling of pressure through that padding, the duller sensation making him work even harder to get friction. Sometimes he’ll just grind against Tony or his pillow or anything he can get his hands on for hours until he’s teary-eyed and desperate.

“Does this feel nice, sweet pea?” Tony asks, his voice quiet and intimate as he noses at Peter’s face.

“Feels nice,” Peter echoes. His face is bright pink now and he mouths at Tony’s skin, his neck, his chin, his lips. They aren’t really even kisses, just Peter trying to get even closer as he grinds against Tony’s hip.

“You’re so pretty, baby boy, so cute, hm? Look at you, look at daddy’s little boy…”

Peter whines high in the back of his throat and rocks so hard he makes Tony stumble a little. Tony chuckles and pats his bum – “so strong, baby” – and moves to lean against the back of the couch. Peter slides off a little which makes him fuss but Tony quickly extends one leg so Peter can nestle up against his thigh instead.

“Come on, that’s it Petey, you’re doing so well. Almost there, baby.”

“Feels… feels so good, Da,” Peter whimpers. God, Tony could listen to those sounds forever. And the way he looks… he gets this sort of wild-eyed expression on his face when he’s so regressed like this, as if he barely even understands what’s happening and all he knows is that he doesn’t want it to stop. Tony plasters kisses all over his face as he shoves his little hips up and down against Tony’s thick thigh, humping him like a bunny rabbit. Tony himself is hard in his jeans, the zipper pressing painfully against his erection, but he wants this to be all about Peter.

He knows he’s close when his face scrunches up and he pulls so hard on Tony’s shirt that he almost rips the fabric.

“That’s it baby doll, make a mess for Daddy, come on,” Tony coos.

Peter trips over the edge of his orgasm with a high-pitched squeal, shuddering and shaking in Tony’s arms. He’s so sensitive that it takes him a good while to settle so Tony just soothes him, lets him come down softly, until he’s practically boneless against him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweet pea,” Tony whispers. Peter makes a tiny noise of assent but winces when Tony hoists him up again.

“Wet,” he says, sticking his tongue out. “Yucky.”

Tony laughs, not about to mention how much Peter enjoyed getting to the wet and yucky part.

He settles back on the changing table again without complaint and lets Tony remove his overalls. The diaper is next, and Tony gently opens each side and peels down the front. His cock throbs in his jeans as he looks down at Peter’s own member, spent and small and covered in cooling come. He looks absolutely debauched and absolutely perfect.

“Da, wan’ binkie please,” Peter says, his voice a bit sleepy now.

“Just a minute, Peter,” Tony replies. He fumbles with his belt and shoves his jeans and boxers down hastily. His cock is nearly purple with need and he hisses as he finally gets his hand on it. It’s too dry, though, so he scoops up some of that mess his boy made and slathers it on himself. The sensation is incredible and he licks his lips as he quickly starts pumping his hand.

“Da. Da, binkie!”

He can see Peter starting to fuss, rubbing at one eye with his fist, but he can’t see a pacifier anywhere around them and there’s no way he can stop now.

“Here, baby, suck,” he almost growls, and shoves two fingers in Peter’s mouth. The boy’s eyes widen with surprise at first but it seems to calm him a little and he starts licking and sucking almost immediately. Tony groans at the sensation and his hand moves even faster on his dick.

“You make Daddy feel so good, baby, god, you’re such a good boy for me,” he groans. Peter hums happily around his fingers and that’s what sends Tony over the edge. He comes with a grunt all over Peter’s tiny cock. Thick globs of white mix with the viscous liquid that’s already there, and Peter whines and wiggles when he feels the warmth of it on his belly. He lets Tony’s fingers slip out of his mouth.

“Da made a mess,” he says plainly. Tony huffs out a laugh and pinches at his thigh gently, just enough to make him jump.

“I did, didn’t I… guess I’ll have to clean it up, then,” Tony responds before leaning down to swipe his tongue through their come, humming with pleasure at the salty taste and the twitch of Peter’s cock against his cheek.

[fromlovetohatredwelivetodie]

To the next guy who has her

Take such good care of her. She’s a rare one. A gem. A diamond in the rough. Her laugh alone, while others apparently made fun of her for it, will melt your heart if you truly love her. She uses emoticons from middle school like “:p, :O, >:(, :(“. She has a smile so bright, you know this girl couldn’t harm an ant. When she smiles, you can see how amazing her soul is through her eyes. and if she truly loves you, you’ll see it in the way she looks at you. I know because I knew the exact moment I was taking her home to my parents.

She can also be a brat. But she’s so sweet, kind, and caring that her bratty attitude is only charming. She’ll ask you for a lot of favors. She’ll start each favor with a “you could do this for me?” And look at you with all the love and awe in the world. She loves comics. She knows The marvel universe off the back of her hand. If you aren’t familiar with marvel, get familiar with it. She’ll love it. She wants someone to talk about it with her. She also has two of the most beautiful dogs in the world. The one dog, Daenerys, while absolutely gorgeous, is probably also the most annoying dog in the entire world. You can’t show this woman any physical affection without Dani going insane. Her barking is incessant, and it’ll drive you insane. But Dani loves her mommy more than anything in the world. She’ll cry when she’s not within 10 feet of her, and she’ll wait ever so patiently at the door for her to come home whenever she leaves. Her other dog Tyson is way more chill. He’s just a happy friendly dog who wants to be loved. He can get jealous though. If you start to show Dani slightly more attention for just a few seconds, he’ll charge through like an NFL running back and launch himself into you for pets. He poops more than Dani whenever you take them out too. So always have a bag ready for him. As for feeding them, make sure they each get half a bag of their food a day. Once in the morning and once more around 5:30-6:00 PM. Heat their food for 45 seconds and stir it up when it’s out the microwave.

This girl was a stud athlete too. While small, she packs a lot of strength and speed in that gorgeous little body of hers. She’ll call herself fat, say that she feels fat, and get down on herself sometimes. Reassure her that she’s the most beautiful girl to grace this earth. Squeeze her cheeks. She says she hates her cheeks. But she has the most perfect face in the entire world.

She calls Starbucks “starbs”. Her go to order are egg bites with sriracha and the sugar cookie almond milk frappucino. She loves massages (she’s got a really bad lower back and neck), flowers, forrero rocher chocolates, sleeping with her mouth open, music festivals, Disney, and most importantly, she LOVES love.

If you get her though, make sure you love yourself first before you start to love her. That was my mistake. I hated myself and took everything out on someone who truly loved me with all her heart. I will have to live with that for the rest of my life. Don‘t be a piece of shit like me. Because the worst part about losing her is not the fact that she’s gone, but it’s hearing the pain in her voice when she asks you “how can you do this to me?”. There is so much more I want to write, but by the time you meet her, she’ll probably be a new person. So the rest is for you to learn about her.

So again, to the guy that has her next, be ever so gentle with her heart. And make sure to give her all of yours. Cherish her, protect her, hype her up, and allow her to love you.

You‘re lucky as fuck.

[leelysian]

Changbin as your older brother AU 💖✨

genre: fluff, bullet point fic

word count: 2.3k

warnings: swearing

Disclaimer: I do not personally know Changbin. This work is purely fiction and my own idea. I took inspiration from his on screen persona. Please do not translate or re-upload my work.

A/N: hi :) Sorry if this is kinda bad. I’m running out of ideas for this series(?). It’s really hard to write these aus for the members when there’s limited knowledge about them and when you’re trying to make everything seem different without making it seem like they’re all one dimensional and cut from the same cloth. Thank you to everyone who has been reading these older brother aus and thank you for being patient. Please leave some feedback, it really keeps me going. ❤️

☆ Let’s start with you as babies.

☆ Changbin would for sure as kiddy questions like “How did the baby get inside mummy’s tummy?” “When will baby come out?” “How does baby poop?”

☆ Your parents either answered him vaguely or somehow dodged his questions.

☆ Would sleep in your parents bedroom close to your mum to protect her baby bump.

☆ Would be hella excited to feel you kick in your mum’s tummy.

☆ Would say cute things to the baby bump. “Come out quickly baby I can’t wait to play with you.” “We can play with *insert favourite toy* together.” “We’re going to have a lot of fun together.” I am close to tears

☆ Doesn’t care about the gender.

☆ When you were born, he was extremely excited to see you but little Binnie patiently waited till your parents had their moment first until they ushered him to the hospital bed.

☆ He was wide eyed as he held you as if scared to hurt you. He smiled when he stroked your cheek with a finger and smiled wider when you grabbed onto his finger.

☆ CUDDLES, CUDDLES AAAAAAAND MORE CUDDLES

☆ Tried to help your parents take care of you but most of the time failed.

☆ *tries to put pants on you* *gets kicked in the face instead*

☆ The only thing he could properly do was cuddle you as he fed you a bottle and somehow you ate properly if he was the one feeding you when you were being fussy.

☆ *you two fall asleep while he’s holding you*

☆ Adoring/curious stares.

☆ Fed you a bit of lemon for jokes when you were starting to grow teeth and had the time of his fricking life when he saw your reaction.

☆ I’m talking the kind of laughs he does with his whole body.

☆ Helped you learn how to walk patiently. Just laughed when you fell on your butt.

☆ Taught you how to high 5 at a very young age.

☆ You talked to him a lot. Not like he understood what you said because it was mostly babbling but it was fun for both of you.

☆ You broke a lot of his toys. He’d get upset until he got new ones.

☆ The one toy he never shared with you was Gyu, his plushie.

☆ Fast forward you’re older and know how to walk and talk coherently, Changbin is a kid.

☆ Changbin wants cookies but they’re on the top shelf and your mum purposefully put them there so neither of you could reach.

☆ “Changbin what are you doing?” 

☆ Changbin: 👀

☆”I’m gonna tell mum~”

☆ “NO DON’T. If you help me, I’ll give you a cookie then you have to promise me you won’t tell mum.”

☆ Your smart ass contemplated for a few seconds before you agreed, “Ok what do we do?”

☆ “If I lift you up can you grab the jar? Don’t drop it.”

☆ “Yes.”

☆ Somehow both of you managed to retrieve the jar unscathed. Why none of you thought to grab a chair and do it, I don’t know.

☆ One cookie turned to two then three until the jar was half empty and your dad caught you. 

☆ Everyone except you two with crumbs around your mouths in the room:️  

👁️👄👁️

☆ Your dad walked in with brooding eyes. He grabbed a cookie and started eating quietly, “It’s a secret.”

☆ All three of you smiled happily and continued munching on the cookies.

☆ Until a while later your mum walked in and gasped, “YOU ATE ALL THE COOKIES?! *insert dad’s name* YOU WERE IN ON THIS TOO!”

☆ The three of you gulped nervously until you said, “No mum look! We saved a few for you!” The three of you smile innocently.

☆ Your mum sighed and smiled exasperatedly. “This is the last time.” A chorus of agreement sang throughout the room yet nobody meant a single word.

☆ Most of the time you two were hyperactive and played around so much you’d be knocked out cold by the time it was around 9 pm. 

☆ Your parents had to lug you to your shared room.

☆ You two played tag a lot, he was really fast so you’d always get tagged very quickly.

☆ HIDE AND SEEK

☆ Running. So much running. You’re the hyper kids.

☆ Rock paper scissors. Winner flicks the loser’s forehead. Changbin always took the penalty but never really doled it out on you, if he did it wasn’t too hard. 

☆ Races. “LAST ONE IS A ROTTEN EGG!” 

☆ Changbin could easily win, but sometimes he slowed down purposefully to let you win for a change.

☆ Giggles. Giggles everywhere. Giggles all the time.

☆ Pillow forts in your room. 

☆ Tickle fights.

☆ Cuddling together while watching cartoons.

☆ You thought he was cool.

☆ He liked you thinking so highly of him.

☆ Made him want to be even cooler for you.

☆ He’d ruffle your hair playfully.

☆ He’d pinch your nose. “AAAAHHH”

☆ He’d pull your hair.

☆ PIGGY BACK RIDES!!!!!!!!!

☆ Such a joker. It was harmless fun.

☆ Once you doodled on his school notes. He got mad and stopped talking to you.

☆ He rarely got angry at you, sure you two bickered sometimes and sometimes got whiny at each other.

☆ You apologised with a treat you got, instead of eating it by yourself, you gave it to him as a peace offering. 

☆ He didn’t eat it himself, he shared. “It’s okay just don’t do it again. These are important. You’ll know when you get older.”

☆ “Ok. I’m sorry.”

☆ Things became alright again.

☆ Fast forward you’re tweens/teens/young adults.

☆ The dynamic is wild.

☆ You two would always goof around like idiots.

☆ Changbin annoyed you a lot.

☆ “Y/N look over there!” you’re stuck in visible confusion. *smacks your head and runs* 

☆ “CHANGBIN!”

☆ You’re eating chips. “Y/n what’s that?” “What’s what?” *steals bag* 

☆ “When are you gonna stop tricking me?”

☆ “When are you gonna stop falling for that?” 

☆ You get pissed.

☆ Then it escalates into a wrestling match until ultimately you get hurt and start nearly crying in pain.

☆ “FUCK! SHIT SHIT SHIT I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY HERE YOU CAN HIT ME BACK. PLEASE DON’T TELL MUM! PLEASE STOP CRYING!” 

☆ You’re watching tv peacefully. Changbin walks in with a nerf gun/water gun. “REACH FOR THE SKY!”

☆ The living room turns into a warzone or a set for mission impossible.

☆ You ‘borrow’ his clothes. “Y/N STOP STEALING MY SHIT!”

☆ He ‘borrows’ your charger. “GET YOUR OWN CHARGER CHANGBIN!”

☆ He casually strolls into the living room, sits next to you with feet propped up on the table, snatches the remote when you’re not looking and changes the channel. 

☆ “HEY I WAS WATCHING THAT!”

☆ “Well too bad. I don’t wanna watch it.”

☆ “GIMME THE REMOTE!” “No :}”

☆ Another wrestling match for the remote.

☆ You hide his glasses. Basically keep them with you.

☆ “Hey y/n have you seen my glasses?” “Nope.”

☆ He looks EVERYWHERE. 

☆ You keep them on top of the tv when he’s away. “Hey Changbin found it on the tv.”

☆ “That’s weird I don’t remember putting them there. The heck?”

☆ “Maybe you’re just losing your mind. Already becoming an oldie?”

☆ “I may be old but I can still kick your ass.”

☆ You’re the younger sibling that either grows up to the same height as him quicker or grows taller than him somehow.

☆ He hates it. You thrive on it. “Hehe shortie. Can you even reach?”

☆ So he started working out to tone up.

☆ You’re barely able to lift a heavy box. He picks it up with ease. “Do you even lift?”

☆ He’s washing the dishes. You leave your dish for him and sneak out. “Y/N! I SWEAR-”

☆ You have a lit music taste because of him. 

☆ You’re sleeping, he’s up early. You need to go to school. Instead of waking you up like a normal person, he pulls the blankets completely off of you and tackles you. “Y/N WAKE UP!”

☆ “CHANGBIN YOU CRAZY BASTARD! DO YOU WANNA DIE?!”

☆ You two are eating. He’ll finish eating seemingly at the speed of light and stare at you eating. “I’m not sharing.”

☆ “I didn’t say anything.”

☆ awkward silence

☆ You pass your food to him. “You owe me, pabbit (pig + rabbit)”

☆ Both of you forget about it later on.

☆ He’s hella clumsy.

☆ He’d definitely break a glass or plate or vase.

☆ He’s the type to fix something just enough to make it seem not broken so the next person who uses it would think they broke it.

☆ Anything to not get his ass handed to him by mummy dearest.

☆ You do this thing to annoy him which is basically mock/copy him when he tells you something. 

☆ “Hey you know-” “Hey you know-” “you know that-” “you know that-” this continues a few more times until he screams and tackles you.

☆ You did this thing where you literally jumped on his back when he was unaware and you'd stick to him. The scream was worth bursting your eardrums. Worked every time.

☆ He was built he could carry you.

☆ Another thing is copying his actions.

☆ He yawns, you yawn. He scratches his nose, you copy. He stretches, you stretch. He shifts, you copy. 

☆ “STOP COPYING ME!” “Stop copying me” “I said STOP COPYING ME!” “I said stop copying me!”

☆ “I hate you.” “I love you too bro.”

☆ His friends like you and a lot of times you hang out with him and his friends.

☆ He wears the weirdest stuff just for shits and giggles.

☆ “Hey y/n.” “What?” you look at him and burst out laughing.

☆ Where he got a shark head mask, you had no idea. You had tears running down your face as he started to sing and sexy dance to baby shark.

☆ “STOP I’M GONNA PEE!”

☆ You two say the darndest things.

☆ “I just realised- if vampires can’t go out in the sunlight then wouldn’t the moonlight kill them too?

☆ “How?”

☆ “Moonlight is just the sunlight shining from behind the moon dumbass.”

☆ “Oh shit you’re right.”

☆ Another example of this would be:

☆ “The hospital is the only place you leave without entering.”

☆ Both of you:  👁️👄👁️

☆ You’re eating watermelon. You bite some of the white bit.

☆ “I just realised the worst part of the watermelon tastes like a cucumber.”

☆ awkward silence “wait you’re right.”

☆ “Anyways, here you can wash the plates.”

☆ “Y/N!”

☆ AEGYO FLUFFY GOODNESS

☆ Will use everything in his cuteness arsenal to get what he wants.

☆ You hate to admit it actually works sometimes.

☆ “Y/n~ pleeeaaaseee get me some cookies.”

☆ “No.”

☆ He keeps whining and rocking or shaking you. “PLEEEEAAAAAASEEE”

☆ “FINE!”

☆ Who’s really the older sibling and who’s really the younger sibling?

☆ “You know you could’ve just gotten them yourself with the time it took you to annoy me into getting them for you?”

☆ He just smiles toothily. 

☆ “If you could choose between a giant me or 5 mini me’s which would you choose?”

☆ “Neither I’d rather die.”

☆ “Y/N! WHYYYYY” he whines and shakes you.

☆ He’s always there for you when you need him the most. He’ll always comfort you with tight hugs. 

☆ He’s the type of person to make silly jokes and make you smile or laugh to make you feel better instead of sort of brooding with you.

☆ This is only acceptable with him, if anyone else tried to be goofy when you were upset it wouldn’t work.

☆ Because it’s Changbin’s thing. Only he has that power.

☆ You rarely see him upset. He’s always smiling, joking around and acting cute.

☆ One time, really late at night you saw him in the kitchen sitting with a glass of milk. He hadn’t noticed you. 

☆ This was off putting because you rarely saw him this quiet. He’s always laughing and loud.

☆ He was staring off in the distance, the glass gathering condensation from being out of the fridge and into warm temperature.

☆ “Can’t sleep?” He was startled and shook his head no. “What’s on your mind?”

☆ “It’s nothing.” You sat with a glass of water. “You know you can tell me, right?”

☆ “I know I just don’t wanna bother you.” he said and this confused you. “Why would you be bothering me? That’s absurd.”

☆ He shrugged, “I dunno, seems like all I do is annoy people these days.”

☆ You pat his back. “Hey, that’s not true. Well it only applies to me because you’re my sibling. That’s a thing. Is there anything specific you’re talking about?”

☆ He stays quiet for what seems like the longest time until he unloads. 

☆ You’re not good with words like he is. You try your best to listen and give sensible input. 

☆ Changbin admired that about you. Despite being younger, you were sometimes mature and understanding. You were authentic, you never tried to be something you weren’t.

☆ Which is why he always valued your words. 

☆ Afterwards if he had anything on his mind, sometimes he’d vent to you.

☆ You the ability to make his insecurities disappear simply because he feels stupid for the way he thinks when he talks to you. 

☆ You make his problems miniscule, not in a belittling way but in a way that makes him realise how things could be different or done differently.

☆ Your sense of perception was something amazing.

☆ This is why Changbin believed you were the best sibling he could ask for.

☆ But little did he know, you wouldn’t be able to function properly if he wasn’t the goofy, silly, clumsy, idiotic Changbin who exists today.

☆ He’s just the right type of flavour you need in your bland life.

☆ don’t be shy put some more.

☆ He’s the right balance of a clown, a baby and a guardian angel.

☆ He’s extremely caring, loyal, kind hearted and annoying.

☆ You’d change absolutely nothing.

[milknette]

day 12 - childhood friends

it's better to burn, than to fade away.

tumblr month: @auyeahaugust

links: ao3 | ff.net

ADRIEN meets Marinette when he's six years old and running away for the first time.

It happens after his mom tells him that he can't have macarons for dinner. Can you believe it? To separate a child and his one true love— a single bite of passionfruity goodness… it is, understandably, too much for his little mind to handle.

So, he runs away—

Because clearly, the only logical solution to not having dessert for dinner is to run away somewhere that would allow him to do so.

(Maybe whoever made the macarons. He's sure that they probably have sweets for every meal!)

And it seems like a good idea at first.

But as he runs through the dimly-lit streets of Paris, with nothing but his superhero-themed backpack and the black cat stuffed toy he'd been given for Christmas, Adrien slowly begins to realize that maybe he'd acted too rashly.

He's cold, he's wet, and his macarons are nowhere to be found.

So of course, he does what any six-year-old would do in his situation:

He falls to the ground and starts crying.

It's in that state when she first finds him.

"Whatcha cryin' about?"

Adrien looks up and freezes. Snot is dripping out of his nose, eyes red, and cheeks puffy— and for the first time in his life, he feels self-consciousness.

Because standing in front of him is very likely the prettiest girl he's ever seen.

Quickly wiping his face with his sleeve (though all it really does is intensify the redness), Adrien shakes his head. "I'm not crying."

"Yeah you were," she says, pointing at his face. "Look, your face is wet."

"... it's because it's raining."

Pretty Girl huffs. "It's not raining," she accuses him. "You're lying!"

"I'm not lying!" He argues, slowly standing back up. "I'm not crying!"

"You just were," she shoots back. "Why are you sad, sad boy? Where are your parents?"

He frowns, shaking his head. "Nowhere. I don't care." Adrien shakes his head. "They're bad parents."

"What do you mean bad?" She asks. "Did they hurt you?"

"Yeah! They didn't let me have macarons for dinner."

"... and?"

"And…?" Adrien asks, confused. "That's it. They're so mean, not letting me eat what I want. So I ran away!"

A sudden smack on the head.

"Ouch?!"

"You're being spoiled," Pretty Girl finally says, frowning. "Your parents are just doing what's best for you. Stop getting mad at them for that."

"But I want macarons!"

"And you can't always get what you want!" She argues, shaking her head. "You should be happy with what you have. Papa always tells me how lucky I am to be where I am. Some kids don't even get to be that lucky ever."

"But…"

"No buts," she says, with finality. "Listen to your parents!" Then, after a moment, Pretty Girl fishes out something from her pocket.

It's one piece of a red polka-dotted earring.

"Here."

Adrien stares at her, suspicious. "What is this?"

"It's to make you happy again," she tells him. "It's an earring."

"... so it's a gift?"

Pretty Girl wrinkles her nose. "Yeah, I guess. Just stop crying already."

He smiles.

A gift.

From a pretty girl!

"Thank you," he beams, remembering his mother's lessons on how to be a good boy. "This means we're friends, right?"

"... sure," she finally mutters, after a brief pause. Then, she takes out her hand. "I'm Marinette."

"Adrien," he replies, almost enthusiastically holding her hand in his. "Nice to meet you!"

He wants to ask more, and talk to her longer, before the sound of an ambulance rings across the otherwise empty streets.

Then, an army of police cars quick to follow.

"What happened?" He wonders, before noticing Marinette try to sneak away. "Hey! Where are you going?" Adrien asks, chasing after her as she makes a run for it.

"My parents don't know I'm out!" She responds, shouting at him. "I'll be in trouble if they see I'm not in bed!"

"But will I see you again?"

Marinette laughs, and Adrien's almost confident he's never heard such a beautiful sound in his life.

"Friends don't just leave each other like that!" She only says, before disappearing into the night.

He finds himself alone, having stopped in front of a bus station.

It's a concerned conductor that helps bring Adrien home, to the arms of his evidently just-been-crying parents (he watches with childlike wonder as his father wipes away his teary expression, Marinette's words echoing in his ear) and a mound of freshly-heated macarons— but he barely takes notice.

Instead, Adrien looks in his hand.

The polka-dotted earring glitters with the light.

He presses it to his heart, then wishes with all his soul that he'll see her again.

Marinette.

How cute.

.

.

The next time Adrien meets Marinette is almost two years later.

He's running away again.

Chloé had invited him to a playdate in her bedroom, where she insisted they play house— with her being the wife, and him the "super handsome and all mine husband".

But Adrien didn't want to play that. He wanted to play superheroes, so he grabbed the superhero mask he made in school and put it on— ignoring her protests.

She cried and he called her a spoiled brat, before running away to avoid getting scolded. He runs to the emergency exit, sitting on the stairs as he leans his head upon his arms, almost on the verge of tears.

"You're a crybaby."

Adrien looks up, noticing with surprise as Marinette stands on the stair below him, arms crossed together as she peers over at his small frame.

"You!"

"Yeah, me," she replies. "Who else would it be?"

"You…"

"I…"

"Where have you been!?" Adrien finally rages, eyebrows knitted together in a mix of confusion and anger. "I've been waiting for you for forever!"

"I'm sorry…," Marinette begins, scratching her head. "Did I say I was gonna meet you? I'm kinda forgetful…"

"And dumb!" Adrien shouts, pointing accusingly at her. "You're a meanie face poop head for leaving me!"

"Hey," she starts quietly, before kicking his leg.

"Ouch! What was that for?!"

Marinette sticks her tongue out. "You can't just call people bad names like that!" She says, glaring disappointedly at him. "Go wash your mouth with soap."

"But I can't do that! It's gross!"

"Mama tells me that's the punishment for bad kids who say bad things," she warns him. "So don't say things like that again."

"..."

"Adrien."

"Fine!" He finally bites out, evidently irritated.

"And you have to say sorry."

"What?"

Marinette glares at him. "You have to say sorry to people you've said those things to. Because it hurts them."

"... it hurts?"

"Yeah," she explains, putting a hand to her heart. "Right here. And even more when it's someone we care about."

"Really?"

Marinette nods.

Adrien frowns, thinking to himself, before abruptly standing up. "I'm sorry, Marinette," he finally says. "I don't want to hurt you."

She beams at him. "And I'm okay now!" She says, raising her hands upward. "See, it's that easy!"

Adrien nods along, before remembering another person he has to say sorry to.

He stares at her. "I have to do something," he starts. "Can you wait for me?"

Marinette sighs, apologetic. "Sorry, I can't," she replies. "Mama and Papa are waiting for me downstairs. I just went here because you were crying so loud."

"Hey—!"

"But do what you have to do," she grins. "I'll see you again."

"Promise?" Adrien asks, sticking out his pinky finger.

She smiles, linking her pinky with his. "It's a pinky promise."

When Adrien returns to Chloé's apartment, the first thing he says is sorry.

They play house together, but roleplay as siblings. Adrien tells her that he can't play her husband; not when he wants someone else to play with his wife.

Marinette Agreste.

Doesn't sound too bad.

.

.

Marinette keeps her promise.

Their meetings are short and infrequent, but he always treasures every moment.

The time he accidentally ruins his father's painting, she makes him apologize. The time Chloé bullies Sabrina, she tells him to make her stop. The time he gets the last macaron at a shop, she convinces him to share it with the crying baby outside.

Adrien can feel himself becoming a better person the more they meet. With every wrong he's done, she's there like a guardian angel to show him the right way.

She makes him kinder, stronger, and more honest.

It's at the tender age of eleven years old when Adrien Agreste decides that he loves her.

.

.

The next year, Marinette only visits him once.

At the day of her funeral.

He sits alone, standing in front of her grave.

Emilie Agreste, Rest In Peace.

She doesn't say a word, only putting a hand on his shoulder.

He's grateful for it.

"At least you'll always be here for me," Adrien says.

She laughs softly, but doesn't reply.

.

.

She shows up less and less, the older he gets.

After his mother passed away, his father had locked him in the house with almost no contact with the outside world.

Adrien wonders if that's why Marinette hasn't been showing up.

He knows in his heart, however, that it isn't true.

.

.

"How did you get in here?"

"Is that a question you really want to know the answer to?"

"Maybe not."

Marinette leans her head on his shoulder, nuzzling closer to him.

He doesn't move.

.

.

It is at fifteen years old when Adrien's father gets him a therapist.

"Do you see her now?" He asks.

"No."

The therapist nods, writing as Adrien watches Marinette peek over his shoulder.

"He's writing that you're crazy."

"I'm not crazy!"

The doctor looks up at him, and it's almost pitiful.

"Of course not."

.

.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

The room is empty, but he knows she's watching. Waiting.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Adrien heaves, rubbing at his eyelids. He hasn't slept in days— weeks, even.

It's gotten to the point that even his father wants him to come outside, if even for a moment.

"I just want to be normal."

"No, you're too special for that."

.

.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because I have to let you go."

"Why?"

"You aren't good for me."

"You told me I made you a good person."

"You did."

"What changed?"

"I'm not a kid anymore."

"..."

"I loved you."

"I'm not real."

"That doesn't mean my feelings weren't."

"The therapist was right. You are crazy."

"..."

"You're still a crybaby."

"I know. But I can handle these things on my own now."

"I hope you'll miss me."

"You were my first friend."

"I love you."

"..."

"Goodbye."

.

.

Adrien sees the sun for the first time in months.

He feels lighter.

Nothing is holding him back anymore.

[ubemango]

commission 1: soft and silly dad!seokjin

this was for his bday hehe!!!!!! Thank you to anon for your help+request :)

“How long have we had that table?”

You pause with your drying, bowl cold from Seokjin's rinsing. The oakwood isn't as scrubbed clean as you'd hoped but Seoyoon isn't as meticulous with a dish rag as you like to be. "I don't know. Eight years?"

"Lasted a long time," he says. "Ikea stuff is nice. We got our bed there too right?"

"Yeah."

"And we've been pretty rough with that bed."

Seokjin feigns concentration with soapy hands on the pile of dishes to hide from your glowering. At the very least he saved the joke for when the kids have left the dining room. "Your point?"

"Just thinking about the—durability of our household items."

"Very introspective of you."

"I try," Seokjin sighs. You hear the tumble of building blocks just beyond the door frame, the squeal of a frustrated toddler and her little brother incapable of keeping the tower upright. At least that's what Seoyoon had complained about earlier; who knows what Junsu's been up to with his newfound 6-month-old motor skills. "Should I check on them?"

You shake your head. "Nah. Seoyoon's old enough to scream for us if she needs the help."

"Maybe Junsu's knocked over."

"He knows how to sit up."

"But those cheeks. Weighs him down so much he'll be hunched over at the back before I hit fifty."

His shoulders rumble with laughter he wants you to join in on, but you just elbow him out of the way to reach the shelves. "You think you're funny making fun of your own son."

"Nothing wrong with big cheeks," Seokjin clarifies. He tosses the sponge into place, rinses the rest of the plates. Then he slaps your ass with a still-wet hand. "Like these ones right here."

"I will kill you."

"You won't."

"You bought those fancy knives to cook, I use them to kill you." They stay slotted in the wooden holder, just an arms-reach away. You'd threaten him more if all your effort wasn't going into tippy toeing the cups into the highest shelf.

"You won't," he laughs again. "Babe you've been reaching to put that glass up there for a billion years, I'll do it."

"I can reach it."

Seokjin squeaks the water off. You can feel him watching your struggle, the squeak of his drying rag interfering with your quiet attempts to get the glass standing. He doesn't say anything when he walks over to the other side to stack the plates away. Not until he's right up against your back, bumping your hand away with his own to place the glass away for you. "Now what kind of husband would I be if I let my wife struggle like that."

"You think this gets you points." Your retort doesn't stand a chance against the warmth of his mouth on your neck. In the blanket of dark evening and dimmed kitchen lights, you melt. "Honey..."

He squeezes around your stomach. "C'mon. I call putting Seoyoon to bed."

"Whoever's done first gets the wine out after," you barter. Seokjin leaves one more kiss of agreement before you both go out to corral the kids, one of whom is, in fact, sprawled on his back because of those goddamn cheeks.

"Oh my baby," you coo, grabbing Junsu by his armpits. "Seoyoon, go with daddy to brush teeth okay?"

"M'kay. Can I ki-iss Junsu bye night?"

You crouch in the heap of multi-coloured building blocks, Seoyoon hobbling over for her obligatory kiss good night. Junsu's hair isn't as thick as his sister's but she ruffles through it like it is. "Ni' night!"

Seokjin grabs her hand, gaze soft. "See you in twenty?"

"I want the Currant tonight," you challenge, and you hear Seoyoon question mommy's choice in wine with a small what's coo-want? as her dad whisks her away up the stairs. Junsu stirs in your embrace, mumbling low noises as you follow. "You'll shower tomorrow bubba, I see your eyes closing already."

It doesn't take long for Junsu to go down. He feeds fast, and you realize it's because he'd pooped dinner out during playtime. Made for a thorough clean-up and a giggling Junsu because wet wipes make him feel happy. 

His full hamper of laundry remains untouched. You'd promised yourself you'd do it tonight for the sake of a cheaper water bill but the dryer is too loud for Seoyoon to sleep to. The contemplation of failed household duties can wait, though; you've got red wine to indulge in, a husband to complain to if he’s in the mood.

The building blocks are stowed away in the box of toys by the time you come downstairs. Seokjin's just about done pouring wine in a second glass when you settle in the couch, bones aching with the phantom pains of a long work day. Netflix stays idle on your TV screen. He hands you a glass, and you both take a quiet sip.

"Seoyoon really likes that book about spiders." Seokjin rests a lazy arm on the back of the sofa. It's an unspoken agreement as you sidle right into his side. "Did your mom get that for her?"

"I think so." 

"She likes to read like she knows how to read."

"Big brain. Gets it--"

"--From me," Seokjin says at the same time. He heeds to the pinch in his ribs with a yelp. "You may have a big forehead but who has the bigger brain cells?"

"You don't have to be rude!" You snort. He won't listen to the command, you know he won't. But he nods because it's what a nice husband does, and a nice husband also probably wants to get in your pants but he won't say it outright. Not at this hour. Half-asleep with the blur of a tipsy beginning and the paranoia of two slumbering children a floor above. 

"You don't have a big forehead," he admits to silence. You're both too lazy to reach for the remote on the side table. It's sweeter, the mindless atmosphere you soften under. Without all the static nonsense of movies you won’t pay attention to because the baby monitor sits as priority on the coffee table. "But even if you did it's not a bad thing."

"Stop talking about my forehead."

"Yes ma'am." 

The wine is slick along your throat. Seokjin doesn’t complain when you burrow deeper in his shoulder. “A year older, huh.”

“Still as sexy as ever,” he adds. You’re too tired to snark back. He’s not lying anyway. “If you still feel bad about not throwing a party, I’m telling you again: it’s okay.”

“But—“

“Honey, look how tired you are.”

It’s almost funny because you didn’t even notice your eyes had closed. “You know I would’ve been happy to host something.”

“Yeah. And I’m just as happy making dinner and washing dishes with you and reading to Seoyoon about spiders,” Seokjin says. 

You want to spite your boss for making you work overtime on your husband’s birthday. But coming home to your family is still as untouched a feeling as ever, and Seokjin gave you the gentlest smile and Seoyoon squealed into your tummy in her hug, and Junsu—well, Junsu was napping. All your worlds tucked into the walls of your small home. Everything’s alright when you feel them near.

“Are you happy?” You ask.

“Always.” Seokjin takes your glass by the stem, sets them beside the static of Junsu’s snoring. “Lie down with me.”

His chest is warm against your ear. “Sometimes I forget you’re my husband.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Like you married me,” you clarify. “I don’t know. Just—coming home today was really nice.”

“I was thinking about that today, actually.”

“Hm.”

“I was born. And then I met you. And now we have our own kids to take care of.” Seokjin sighs. “Crazy how our lives pan out, huh.”

“Right,” you agree. 

“I’m thankful for you. And Seoyoon and Junsu. And that our furniture holds up, and we have a house to live in.”

“Christ. That wine made us sappy.”

“You started it,” he argues. In the corner of your eye, Junsu stirs his neck to the side. You linger in your red-tinged breaths combined. “It was a good birthday.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I mean you rode me first thing in the morning—you know you have the best hips on this Earth?”

You burn. With pride mostly, but you steal a bite to his jaw for an angry effect. “You’re welcome.”

“I love you,” Seokjin kisses into your hair. “Even though you work too hard.”

You won’t disagree. It’s hard to come up with a coherent response, too focused on his lungs swelling with yours. Twined in his warmth like you both wanted today. He starts again with a funny story about Junsu and falling over, and you don’t say anything when he grabs your hand to fiddle with your wedding ring. 

[thebadeepieflock-blog]

Things most pet shops don’t tell you about parrots.

Parrots make wonderful pets, that is very true. Treated right, they can be loving, sweet, affectionate little babies who never fully grow up it seems. They'll always be happy to see you come home, excitedly wait for your time together and provide you with a loving, long term companion for 30+ years with some species. HOWEVER, there is a lot more to all the wonderful feathered love than just the positive. I have 6 wonderful parrots myself. Lucia, my soon to be 8 year old sun conure, Yamato, my 9 year old quaker parrot, Nero, my 1 1/2 year old yellow sided green cheek conure, Virginia, my year old love bird, Cassandra, my 1 1/2 year old cockatiel then there's Mango, my fiance's 2 1/2 year old lovebird. Though they vary in age, have been cared for the same way yet they have VERY different personalities, quirks and troubles. In this post I will share with you some of the things you may face that pet shops don't warn you about and only experience can really teach, but hey, knowing about these things ahead of time never hurts when it comes to preparing yourself. Keep in mind, there is no way I can cover everything but I can at least cover some things. Also, you'll only see Lucia and Yamato mentioned in this post as I only had those two at the time I originally typed this. --Poop issues: We all know birds poop just like any animal but what you may not know is that some parrots don't just stand on a perch and do their business, oh no, some have some very particular habits attached to this common bodily function. Things I have noticed are varied and each bird's habits can be very different. Lucia has a habit of holding it in when she sleeps or if she's perched on my shoulder. I never taught her this, I was more than willing to accept the fact that poop happens when you have a bird and, sometimes, it happens on you. Well, this little conure  will hold in her dumps for a while and then, when she can't hold it anymore, out comes this massive, two tablespoons sized dropping, or what I call her megaton sh**. When she's on me I'll bring her to her cage once in a while so she can poop without holding it however, it's when she first wakes up in the morning that it can be an issue. If you take her out before she's taken that morning poop, well, she's going to try to get it out before she gets on your shoulder. The unfortunate side effect of this habit of hers, however, is that the massive morning poo sometimes ends up splattered on the floor, and trust me, that thing splatters, or, as my fiance' was unlucky enough to find out, on your foot. Lucia has had this habit for a long while, she first started doing it at about 4 months and never stopped so, for me, it's no longer a surprise, for others however, well, the poop meets foot occurrence says it all. My answer to this problem? She doesn't come right out of her cage in the morning, I give her ten minutes to do what she has to do THEN I take her out. Then there's Yamato. You've heard of parrots tossing seeds out their cage? Well Yama (Short name for him) poops out his cage. I've tried to stop him from doing it but now he'll just wait until my back is turned and do it anyways. He will literally cling to the side of his cage, push his butt against it and poop right out the side of his cage. Only way to take care of that is by cleaning around his cage with a wet mop, thankfully the one we have cuts through his poo pretty well. These are the two quirks Ive encountered personally but I've heard of parrots using a single toy as a toilet, pooping in their water or food dish all the time (That isn't common, most parrots like their food dish clean, water dish, it's hit and miss) and even parrots who try to eat or play with their poop (Normally a sign of a health issue, if your parrot does that get them to the vet). So yea, poop habits can be an issue depending on the parrot. --Seed and veggies everywhere! The old throwing food all over habit. In my household, thankfully, only one of my feathered babies causes that huge food mess. Yamato keeps his food pretty contained, a shell will fly out the cage from time to time but overall he's neat with his digging through his food dish. However, the big culprit of the food mess all over is Lucia. She will rummage through her dish violently and throw food all over the place, push it through the bars of her cage and purposely drop it on the floor and even fling it at people just because it amuses her. Your best bet to take care of this issue is a good vacuum (I suggest a shop/wet vac) with a hose. You can try those cage skirts to keep the food in the cage, you can try deep food dishes but if a parrot wants that food to go on the floor, it's going on that floor one way or another. You can try to train them out of it but, depending on the parrot, they'll just wait until you're not looking then fling a seed at the back of your head like Lucia's done to me after trying to teach her to not make the food mess. Gotta know how to pick your battles. --Om Nom EVERYTHING! Here it's Yamato who's the little saint bird. Lucia, however, will chew ANYTHING! Can her beak grasp it? It's getting chewed. Is it shiny? It's getting chewed. Is it near her? It's getting chewed. Let me tell you, when a parrot chews something, they can totally destroy it. Due to it she has a large number of chewing toys in her cage, which don't last long, so she can get it out her system before she gets a hold of things outside the cage. It doesn't always work. Only way to deal with this issue is to watch any parrot outside of the cage and, if they start to chew on something, stop them and tell them no. Over time they will associate the word no with you stopping them from chewing on something. The way I've found to stop Lucia when she chews on something is to get my hand between her and what she's chewing and push her away from it. She doesn't like that but it doesn't hurt her so she associates the discomfort of being pushed back with being told no and will stop chewing on something when I tell her no to avoid that uncomfortable push back. . .most of the time. She does have her own will and sometimes she really wants at something just a no won't stop her so I have to push her back again. --Biting and beaking Every bird bites, no matter how tame, how sweet and how gentle, every bird is, sooner or later going to give someone a bite. However, there are warning bites and bites that mean business. Most gentle birds never get beyond a warning bite, an uncomfortable, skin denting message that can cause some blood to be drawn but is never anything serious. When a bird does this they are giving you a very clear warning, either they are scared, you did something they didn't like, you hurt them a bit but not too serious, you're in their territory and they want you out of it or they're just in a cranky mood. You can minimize the occurrence of this kind of bite but you can never truly train any bird out of it. Most of the bites that come from parrots are this kind of bite, trust me, that beak can do a lot more damage than what the parrot has chosen to inflict. Then there's the serious bites. You WILL know if a parrot delivers one of these because you will have to go get stitched up by a doctor, they can and often do go to the bone with these major bites and some parrots have been known to right out break smaller bones. I have only ever experienced one serious bite in my 17 years of keeping birds of many different types and that bite came not from one of my birds but from one I was fostering. The one that gave me that bad bite was a sulfur crested cockatoo and, apparently, dyeing my hair made me look like someone who had abused her. She was fine with me then I dyed my hair a different color and got a serious bite that went right to the bone. I avoided stitches because she only got me with the tip of the beak and not a side which would have caused a longer puncture so I just had to keep my thumb well bandaged for about two weeks while it healed. These serious bites are very rare with what most call tamed birds, the ones you can handle but, like what happened with that foster, they can occur, doesn't mean they ever will but it is a risk you must accept. With Lucia and Yamato, surprisingly, Lucia is the only one who has given someone a serious bite. She didn't truly bite me but she has really bitten two others. It's rare for her to seriously bite anyone, most people she likes but those two shared a personality trait she didn't like: They were higher energy and somewhat louder than average young males. Just a type of person she doesn't like it seems. She's also a lot fonder of women than she is of men with me being the only exception, any other guy that comes near her I warn because they are at a much higher risk of getting a bad bite. Yamato has never given anyone a serious bite but he gives warning bites to anyone and everyone for any reason under the sun, even just because he wants to before laughing at their reaction to the pinch. So yea, bites will happen, they may be common or they may be rare but if you have a parrot, sooner or later you're going to get some kind of bite. Thankfully most parrot lovers never experience anything worse than a warning bite from their feathered family member but that doesn't mean it can't happen. Then there's what's called beaking. This is when a parrot will right out grab your finger, beak around it with a little pressure and use it to keep themselves stable as they step onto your hand. So many people mistake beaking for a bite because it isn't the most comfortable thing and can hurt a little but it doesn't really cause any blood unless the beak is way, WAY too sharp. This is just how a parrot keeps themselves stable on a moving, unstable surface like your hand. Some parrots also beak you when they're playing, Lucia does this to me all the time because she likes to "wrestle" with my hand where she grabs my fingers, rolls onto her back and tries to keep my fingers in her grasp as I try to squirm them free. It's a fun game for her but leaves my fingers a bit sore. But it's worth it to play with her. Any parrot owner must get use to beaking and learn to tell it apart from warning bites because beaking will happen and it will happen commonly. Too many good parrots get the label of "Biter" because the humans don't know the difference between the two. --Scream and Screech Most people have heard it before but I will say it again: Parrots can be very, very loud. Every parrot and most birds in general will get especially loud during certain times of the day called "flock call times". This is when they call out to the other members of their flock, human or otherwise, and listen for a reply to make sure all members of their flock are alright. If they don't get a reply many of them will get even louder. I have made it a habit to go into the room when they start to flock call so they know I'm alright and I'm showing them I'm checking to be sure they are alright. You can't avoid the noise, you can teach a parrot not to scream so much but it is still going to happen. Just get use to it, it's natural for them and it's how they talk. Also, don't yell back at them, yelling makes them scream louder and get into contests to show you who can be the loudest, not something that's going to help you get back comfortable noise levels in your house. Also, don't cater to their screaming. It'll teach them that screaming lets them get what they want and that is not a habit you want them to get into. Flock call time is one thing in the morning and evening, that's going to happen anyways but other times the best thing you can do is either not respond to the screaming or calmly talk to them. Parrots will scream to alert you to a danger or problem so checking on them isn't a bad idea just make sure not to treat them in any way for that screaming. --Parrots are very sensitive I'm not talking emotionally here, though some are emotionally sensitive too. I'm talking about sensitivity to their environment. Fumes, high levels of smoke, nail products, hair products, air fresheners, non-stick cook ware, scented candles, cleaning products, body spray, anything that puts particles into the air is a risk for feathered family members. I am a former smoker myself and I always tried to keep my smoke away from my baby birds back when I smoked. I would not smoke when they are on me, I would not smoke in the room that I keep them in at the time (the living room) all that. We use natural cleaning products for the safety of the birds, body spray is used in a different room well away from them that gets aired out somewhat commonly, we are careful with our cookware and air out the kitchen when we use it. We do many small things like that which help keep the baby birds safe. Then there's natural factors, like temperature and drafts. You do not want to put a parrot near a drafty window or door because they will get sick very easily. The reason for this is due to a need for pretty stable temperatures. Rapidly fluctuating temperatures will weaken a parrot's immune system dangerously and very quickly. Try your best to keep the temperature as steady as you can in the home, they are comfy in the same temperature range as you are. If it is too warm or cold for you then it is too warm or cold for them but unlike you who will likely be alright with a little chill or sweating your parrot could easily get sick from it. --MINE! Parrots can be possessive. Some get aggressive when someone comes near their favorite thing or person, others are just watchful to make sure said thing or person isn't hurt or taken from them. It varies by parrot personality. Those that get aggressively possessive normally do require some attitude adjustment and the only way to do that is to be willing to chance a few bites to show them that, no, you AREN'T going to stay away from something or someone just because they claimed it. I had this issue with Yamato and his cage. Oh he use to hate me putting my hand in his cage no matter if he was in it or not and he would lunge at me to the point of flying over to make his point clear with that beak. What did I do when he did this? I would put my hand right in his cage anyways, setting it right on his perch and just dare him to bite me. Trust me, I got a few nips from him doing this and he got scorned for each and every warning bite but eventually he realized he wasn't going to win that battle. Now I can reach right into his cage and pet him while he's in there without too much trouble unless he's in a bad mood but with Yamato, bad moods happen. The key to breaking those aggressive habit of possession is to go near and touch what or who they're possessive of anyways. The reason why is because parrots will try to show some dominance, especially parrots with flock leader personalities like Yamato has. If you let into these habits they will think that they have more power in the flock than you do (And trust me, they DO see you as a flock member) and they will keep doing things like that and not listen to you. You have to show them that you are the flock leader, not them. This is done by pretty much right out defying any attempt at authority that the parrot shows to you. They will nip and sometimes right out bite you in a last attempt to make you do what they want but when you still defy them, most of the time they will back down. That brings me to my next point. --It's still a flock to them You may not have flight or feathers but, to any parrot you live with, you are a flock member. Even if they don't like you, you are still a flock member and, for a parrot, that's family. Most people don't realize that the chain of command for a flock does exist but it is different for different types of birds. I've had two sun conures and known others with them, sun conures tend to have a very lax chain of command in the flock where they all have pretty much equal say. Because of this you don't often find a sun conure with a huge flock leader ego though it can happen it really isn't common. I've also dealt with a few other types of parrots, cockatiels, who have a slightly stricter but not too strict flock chain of command, black capped conures who, like the sun conure, have a very lax chain of command, etc. However I did not know that quaker parrots have a rather strict chain of command when I got Yamato. More so, I had no idea Yamato was going to grow up to have a flock leader personality meaning he is constantly challenging me for the place of head honcho in the house. He's already made the lady of the house back down from him so needless to say he sees himself as higher on the chain of command than she is and that won't change until she stops being scared of this little three and a half ounce bird. Sure she is fine when he's in his cage and can't get her but the moment he is out that cage and looks like he may bite she gets jumpy. I am constantly getting nipped and lunged at by Yamato for any and every reason because he thinks he'll finally make me back down, then he finds out it just makes me grasp his beak so he can't bite at all and he gets a stern talking to. Much of his aggression comes from him having that flock leader ego problem, once he's reminded of his place in the flock though he settles down and starts acting sweet again, at least for a month or so. Most flock leader personality parrots end up being rehomed many times, they tend to be the parrots that you just can't get to stop biting no matter what you try. If you end up getting a flock leader you have to approach them differently. They can be sweet, loving parrots, they just have a bit of an ego issue and need to be reminded that they aren't the head of your roost from time to time. Yamato loves to clean me and get kisses and rubbed behind the head when he's not trying to challenge me for leadership and, if I'm sick, he instantly gets protective of me and more attentive because I'm still a member of his flock so yes, the flock leader ego birds can be great feathered babies, you just have to learn how to handle them. Due to parrots having this flock mentality you don't just have to worry about the rare flock leader ego bird, if something happens to you they will worry and if they lose you they will be crushed. Naturally their flocks are larger normally but in a home setting those flocks tend to be much smaller so they get much, MUCH more attached to their flock members. You can't ignore them, they need your attention so they don't get lonely and they need to know you're alright or else they will get worried and a worried parrot can stop eating and, if it goes on too long, start plucking themselves. A lot of people think just getting them a companion, another parrot, will help with that but that isn't always the case. Another feathered friend can help their loneliness even if in different cages but it won't stop them from worrying about you. All the more reason to take care of yourself for your flock's sake. --Those wings aren't just for decoration Do not keep your parrot in the cage all the time, it is not healthy for them mentally or physically. Those wings need to be used even if they are clipped (I personally am against wing clipping but I can understand the need in some situations) because it gets the blood pumping and keeps your parrot in shape. Flying is good for their health, strengthens their heart and respiratory system, stops them from getting overweight and is really good for their mood. Even if their wings are clipped just having the space to flap them is good for every parrot. Yamato loves to fly and I'll tell you, when he takes off he's like a little green bullet. I actually can't keep visual track of him when he's flying around the house due to my extremely low vision but I can hear him and hear how fast he's moving. One moment he'll be close enough to see just a green blur of next moment I see nothing but hear those wings all the way across the room. Birds love to fly most of the time, it's just in their nature. Also, those worried about my ability to keep track of Yamato when he's flying due to my vision, don't be concerned, I always have someone who's fully sighted in the room with us when Yamato is out of his cage so they can keep visual track of him while I listen for where he is so he's well watched after. Lucia, however, flies with all the grace of a drunken paper airplane. She's a very awkward flier which is odd for a sun conure. The reason why, however, is because her breeder was a dumbass who clipped her wings too short and damaged the cuticle where her flight feathers grow from. Her breeder also did a number of other stupid things including force weaning, machine feeding too hot of a food which caused Lucia to have crop burn and selling them too young. That breeder has since been shut down, I saw to that when I found out how bad of shape Lucia was in when I got her and got in contact with every organization and animal protection branch I could to get the guy investigated so there's one less horrid breeder out there. Due to her wings having been clipped wrong as a chick, however, Lucia's flight feathers will never grow in right even though she has still learned how to fly despite this. She may be a slow flier and prefer to walk and be carried because of it but we do encourage her to fly for the physical benefits. We just have to be careful with her because she is a special needs parrot due to what happened when she was a chick. (Footnote: Those wondering why I'm against wing clipping, it's because flight is a parrot's natural defense. Taking that from them can raise their anxiety levels unhealthily and can make a parrot very, very jumpy knowing that, if something happens they can't escape under their own power. Also, improper clipping can cause many issues such as cuticle damage, which happened to Lucia, and cutting the flight feathers too short making any fall a dangerous one. Even though I have a parrot (Yamato) who is a flight risk I won't clip their wings, instead I take greater responsibility and make sure they can't escape through a door or window or anything like that by being sure those exits are not opened while they are out. A little extra personal responsibility can go a long way to keep even a flight risk parrot safe. That said, I can understand for those who have kids which can open the door without warning why clipping wings can be a logical option for you but make sure it's done right and the parrot can still lighten their fall just in case. Also, if you do clip wings make sure any other pets are not able to get near your parrot when they are out, as I said, clipping the wings takes away their greatest defense and I HAVE heard of people who's sweet dog that had never shown aggression to their parrot or any other animal or person before decided to just take their beloved bird out with one bite and no warning.) --Bird Brain isn't as much of an insult as you may have thought Parrots can be extremely clever and can have a huge personality in those little bodies. Some birds take sport in trying to outsmart their human flock members, my little Yamato is one of them. This tends to be more of an amusing quirk than a bothersome one most of the time but there are some times when it can spell trouble, especially if your parrot's version of the game is to be a little escape artist. We had this issue with Yamato for a little while. No matter the type of lock or how we secured it this little green bird would find a way out and come right to us all proud of himself for it. It was cute but we knew it was also dangerous. Our answer to this issue was a spring loaded latch style cage, one that takes us some effort to open this way, even though Yamato knows how the latch works he just doesn't have the strength in that little three and a half ounce body to work the darned thing, doesn't mean he doesn't still try from time to time but we know he can't open it if it takes us some strength to lift that latch. You can get the most complex latch possible which may just be more fun for them to undo but it normally takes something they just can't physically operate to stop the escape artist in their tracks. They will also use those clever little brains to figure out how to get what they want, be it by manipulating you or by distracting you so they can just grab it. Yamato once teamed up with another pet to get my ex-boyfriend, and still good friend's, hot dog bun and succeeded. Lucia has been known to wait patiently until you turn your head to steal something from your plate or hand even though she showed no interest in it before thus giving you no reason to feel like you had to guard it. They also wise up to tricks you use to get them to do what you want. Sometimes they will start training YOU and it is your job to recognize this when it happens. Sometimes it's really harmless and amusing antics but once in a while it can become a bit of a problem. As the human and, hopefully, flock leader, it's your job to recognize when it is a problem and address it. Then again sometimes their cleverness, like dismantling a toy and begging you to put it back together, can be pretty endearing. That little game is akin to to when you give them a problem, like a hard shelled nut or foraging toy, and they have to figure out the solution. You putting the toy back together is the same thing. --Watch what they eat I won't post a full list in this post but there are some things parrots really shouldn't have. Avocados are the big one, they are very toxic to parrots and even tiny amounts can kill! A bite of avocado to a parrot is like a swig of pure arsenic to a human so keep them away from avocados at all costs. I personally love avocados but I never, NEVER have my babies out when I eat it, I store it in a bag in a separate area of the fridge from their veggies and I clean my lips, rinse out my mouth and clean my hands to the point they get a bit red after eating any avocado just to keep them safe. They should also be kept away from chocolate, dairy (Some parrots have a tiny bit of cheese from time to time but it has to be a very small amount and very rarely) non-fruit sugars, seasonings and a number of other things. I just wanted to make sure to warn about avocados because that is perhaps one of the biggest food danger to any parrot. ----------- These are just some of the little things pet shops don't warn you about when you take home a parrot but hopefully these little tips and warnings will help you decide if a parrot is a good match for you and, if you already have a parrot and are at a loss maybe it'll help you to know you are not alone in both the good and the bad. These little feathered babies are great, loving pets if treated right. Got questions? Even if silly or you think it's stupid, ask away. You would be surprised how many seemingly unimportant things can actually be pretty significant in the end. Even if the question is just out of pure curiosity.        

[who-let-the-deans-out-doctor-who]

For my friend, @darcymikaelsonblog, she’s 19 today, happy birthday you bitchy cakepie. Second chapter should be done tomorrow.

Birthdays are made for confesions

AN: Castiel/OC, Dom!Castiel, Sub!OC, part 1/2

It was really nice day. Mondays don’t tend to be nice for lots of people, but Martha loved them, so she told me anyways. Especially this one, because it was her birthday. She was wondering (her eyes glinted with anticipation, as she was talking), what she’s going to get from Sam and Dean. Our last hunt was last week in New Orleans - wendigo was slayed by the time of lunch, so they thought about buying some “girl stuff” as they called it, there. But we decided against it, because I wanted to buy her something special, because she was special and deserved more, than just some clothing or jewels. So when we came with nothing until thursday, we had a “family meeting” as Dean called it. We sat by the table in the main room in bunker and discussed what came to our minds. Martha was, fortunately, away, she said she’s having a “girls nights out” with Jane and that she’d be back on sunday. I was tempted to fly to her to check if she’s okay, but she didn’t like it, when I was, apparently, sneaking on her. She gave me this “talk about personal space” like Dean. 

“What about some hair product?” Sam started.

“That would be nice gift.” I said. In the corner of my eye, I saw Dean rolling his eyes.

“No, she’s not some ordinary Joe, it has to be something awesome and long lasting, hair products tend to disapear after just few months of using. In your case weeks, Sammy.” Sam’s face scrunched in his favourite manner, something that I heard Dean calling “bitchface”. It was not a good term for him to use, not especially for his own brother’s face, but I noticed they didn’t mind using vulgarisms on each other. Or on me. I’m starting to get used to it.

“Then enlighten me and suggest something already!” Sam shouted and Dean snorted at this. I frowned. Is there something funny?

“I don’t know anything about gifts for women, okay? I never gave anything to anyone, except you and dad. You are the same case. Cas too. Or am I wrong, Cas?” He turned to me and I shook my head.

“No, Dean, you’re unfortunately right. We have to ask someone, who knows what kind of gifts tend friends to give to someone special. What about this friend of yours, Charlie Bradbury?” I suggested. 

“That’s good idea, I wanted to check on her anyway. So, get this, I’ll take the Impala and find out what she knows and you guys can borrow my laptop and do some research on net.” When Dean wanted to interrupt, Sam points his index finger on him and raises his eyebrows.

“I’ll be back in mo. Don’t worry about baby, you know I can take care of her.” When he started to walk away, Dean shouted: “bring some pie!” after him. 

“Stupid research, well, let’s go to my awesome brother’s room. I’ll make a mess in there, then he’ll never give me research on his laptop ever again.” Dean muttered while we were walking in the hallway. He went to the kitchen and grabbed beer and tuna sandwich. I frowned, because he doesn’t like fish meat, but I let it go, maybe he wanted to try new flavours. 

When we reached Sam’s bedroom, I heard someone’s whispering my name. I stopped on door’s threshold and tried to catch who belongs to that voice. I suddenly felt ill feeling in my stomach. Something is happening. Something bad. And it’s happening to Martha. Her voice grew louder and by the time I was trying to found her exact location, she was shouting for help. I wanted to fly off immediatly, but I remembered Dean was here and he’ll be disapointed if I abandoned him without word.

“Dean, something is happening to Martha, I’m going to help her. You stay here.” I calmly said and hoped he won’t object. But he proved me wrong.

“No way, Chuckles, take me with you as a back up. If she’s in trouble, I want to help. And what if Jane’s in danger too and you wouldn’t have time to save both of them. I’m goin’.” He came in front of me with Ruby’s knife in his hand and waited for my fingers to land on his forehead.

We landed in some dark place. It looked like some old factory. Dean was clutching his abdomen and muttering “I’ll not poop for week again.” Suddenly, I heard scream behind me and I turned around. Someone jumped at me and tried to bite my neck. Vampire, to be exact. I easily throwed it away and heard how the beast screeched from pain. He got up and lunged at me again, but this time I had my angel blade in my hand and with one movement his head was no longer attached to body. His blood stained my trenchcoat, later I’d clean it with my grace. 

I took down two more and I glanced at Dean’s direction to make sure he’s alright, but he was already going to check the other rooms for Martha and Jane. We hadn’t heard any sound since then, it was “deadly silence” as someone calls it. Dean opened a few doors, before someone attacked him. I rushed to him, ready to slice head of this girl, her head already in the crook of his neck, but I recognised her hair. It was Jane. I was wrong, she was not biting him, she was hugging him, actually. Dean was disoriented for a minute, before he hugged her back. 

“I’m so glad you two came, if not, she’d be dead. Or a vampire.” Jane’s voice was barely recognisable for her closeness to Dean, but I heard her. I inhaled sharply and looked around.

“Where is Martha?” I asked and walked behind Dean to see her face. She had red face, probably from crying, the tears were drenching Dean’s shirt.

“She’s in that room, unconscious, but she’s okay, they just knocked her on head when she struggled too much. I checked her breathing and she’s alive.” She mumbled and I went to this dirty storage room, that she pointed her finger on. I hardly saw anything, but I could make out a body laying on the ground. I crouched beside it and it was truly Martha. Her face was bloodied and she was pale, but she was alive. 

Happiness flooded through my being and I was surprised to feel it. My vessel’s heartbeat sped up for no reason (or so I thought) and I was compelled to touch her soft hair. This feeling was something I’ve never felt before. It was similar to what I felt when I was human and April looked at me, when she was pretending to have interest in me. Or when Nora asked me if I was free for day and I thought it was a date. But this was stronger. This was craving for her, for my friend to become my lover. 

I shook my head and pushed the feelings away. This is not the right time. Two of my fingers touched her cheek and I tried hard to not enjoy the softness of her skin. My grace travelled from there to the wound and healed the broken cells. She gasped and opened her chocolate eyes. When she saw me, she smiled. I couldn’t help myself to smile back and I offered my hand for her to take it. When she took it with her cooler and smaller hand, my senses tingled. 

“Thank God, you heard me. Thanks, Castiel.” Shiver went down my spine, when she said my name. What is wrong with my vessel? Maybe it was because she was always calling be by nickname Dean gave me. Why she used my full name was not clear to me. I suddenly remembered the state of my clothes and cleaned them with my power of heaven.

I helped her up, but she wasn’t completely okay, she certainly had concussion. So when her legs gave out, When I grabed her under back and knees, she yelped in surprise, and I carried her away from this beast hole. 

Jane was still clinging on Dean and I smirked. They were adorable as bunnies in winter, hugging themselves for little warmth. 

“Let’s go, hold tight.” I said before I carried us back home. To the bunker, I mean. I can’t call it home, because there was always chance that it would be destroyed. But I can call home wherever Winchester brothers and these two girls were. Even if it was just laying in the field under stars. I imagined Martha’s face in starlight. That would be the most precious sight I’ve ever seen. 

My dreams were interrupted by Dean complaining about his digestion. I rolled my eyes, for his moaning was not of importance. 

Then I remembered that Martha was still in my arms and my insides clenched. Her soft skin under my fingers was making my vessel’s temperature grow and breath quick. Her shirt was loose and had no sleeves and so my hand was on her bare shoulder. I tried to not look at her, but vessel’s curious eyes were soon travelling across her face. She looked flustered, her pale skin was tainted with red. We shared a few moments, just staring at eachother’s very souls. 

“What are you two, frozen? Or you want to be alone?” Dean’s voice broke our trance. I ignored him and instead stealthed my grip on Martha’s fragile body.

“My mistake, I should put you in your bed, you need to rest.” She wanted to protest, but I hardened my gaze and her lips closed with defeat. I moved to go to her chamber, leaving Dean and Jane alone. 

When  I kicked the door open, she yelped. I found that really cute.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“You didn’t scare me, I just didn’t expect it. Well... Cas, can you put me down?” I looked at her, stunned at her question. My vessel’s brain apparently shut down and I couldn’t move. 

“Cas? Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?” She raised her hand to my shoulder and touched it. I gasped, finally able to do something, even if it was to do the opposite of what I intended. 

“Sorry, I was just thinking. I should put you to bed and then you’ll sleep.” I said authoritatively and done what I’ve said. I reached for covers and layed them on her to warm her. When I turned to leave, she catched my hand and pulled me towards her.

“Can you please stay? I’m cold.” Indeed, her hands were cooler than ice and I didn’t like it. My mind was telling me it’s a bad idea, but I couldn’t left her with so low temperature. She could catch flu. Yes, she’ll have discomfort if I left, she’d be better when I lay down and... lord, take her form from behind to press her back to my chest. Vessel started to sweat from nerves. 

These feelings were very uncharastical for me. I’m an angel of the lord and fear one girl.One really beautiful and special girl. I should put end to this by resolving the sexual tension and ask her to copulate with me. I’m not afraid. What can I loose? Oh, that’s right, her friendship. I should start with kissing her. It’s what humans do, when they’re expresing their love for each other, or am I wrong?

So I took her hand and kissed the back of it. She gasped softly and turned to face me. That made things easier.

“Martha, can I kiss you?” I asked bluntly. She chuckled, she perhaps thought that I’m joking. When she saw, that I’m not, her smile slipped away.

“You mean it?” Her eyes shined again with that glint, but there was something else entirely. Wanting, longing. 

“Yes. I’d like to have our friendship become more. I want you to be my soulmate, partner, love. If you don’t feel the same way, I’ll accept it. Our relationship will remain untouched like it is. But if you want more, I want to kiss you. Can I, Martha?” Her pupils were large and the brown of her eyes disapeared for moment. I was lost in her stare and she was closing distance between us. 

“Why are you still talking? Shut up and just kiss me, you dork.” She smiled again and I gazed at her lips for a moment. They were soft looking and pink. No, red. Something inbetween. I gave up to her spell and sat up a little, just to get on top of her and kiss her passionately. 

“So, you like to top? Can a dork like you dominate?” She teased, at first I felt offended, but then I remembered that there was thing called “pillow talk” and “dirty talk”. I’d rather use first one, because second one needs proper research.

“Yes, I can. I was a leader of an army, so you-” I grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them above her head, “-are under my control now.” Her breathing sped up and I figured out, that she liked to be dominated. So I tightened my grip on her hands and kissed her again, this time with all lust I kept inside. She moaned and I felt my vessel’s reproductive organ flowing with blood. 

“You’ve been very bad girl today, Martha.” I trailed my kisses down her jaw and her throat. She was writhing under me, but I held her hips with my other hand. 

“Hold still. You don’t want to have it harder for you than you’ll have it now. As I said, you’ve done disobedience. And for that you have to be punished.” She hummed and and idea came to me.

“So your punishment is to wait with copulating until you get your birthday present from me.” I said in low voice and she looked at me with frown.

“Not that, Cas! Anything else, but not that! You started this, so you better end it now!” She pursed her lips to express her hurt, but I just smirked and kissed her lightly.

“Waiting and obedience would be rewarded, until then, I’m sorry.” And I flew off.

[russiansunflower3]

Can you please do 24 iwaoi with oikawa saying it to iwaizumi

“You okay? You seem a little off today…”

Warning for self-harm and panic attacks.Read on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10073642

-

Oikawa was early. They’d planned to go out today, to check out that new cafe and see a movie, but they’d agreed to meet at their normal spot at 10am. Oikawa was early, in Iwaizumi’s room, at half nine. It usually wouldn’t have been a problem, except for one thing.

Iwaizumi was in the bathroom and his bandages were in a drawer next to his bed. Beads of red slowly trailed from deliberate cuts on his thighs. He was sat with his back to the bathroom door, trying to focus on controlling his breathing whilst his heart raced with panic because Oikawa was early.

“Iwa-chan, hurry up!”

“I-… G-give me a minute!” He wouldn’t be able to bandage it. Instead, he would have to work with what he had. A quick wash with a sponge got rid of the blood trails down his thighs, and applying pressure helped to stop extra bleeding. He didn’t have his bandages, but he did have toilet paper and band aid plasters. It… Wasn’t ideal, but it was all he had.

He folded up the toilet paper to make a neat square just big enough to cover the scars and cuts on each side, then used about 6 plasters to hold them in place. It really wasn’t comfortable, and he couldn’t excuse this as sports bandaging if his shorts rode up either.

His hands shook as he pulled on his clothes, making sure his shorts were low on his hips to cover the toilet paper.

“Iwa-chan, you take so long! Nobody does a poop that big!” He washed his hands and scrubbed them until they were red-raw, paranoid about Oikawa spotting any smudge of blood. Satisfied, he dried them and took a deep breath before opening the bathroom door.

“Shut up, Oikawa. Maybe I had diarrhoea.”

“That’s gross, and way too much information.” Iwaizumi stiffened as Oikawa glanced over him, eyes scanning in deep thought as if he’d already caught something off. Then, just as Iwaizumi could feel his eyes stinging and heart pounding, Oikawa scoffed and shook his head with a helpless sigh.

“I can’t believe you’re wearing dad shorts with a striped shirt. What are you, a 50 year old white man?” Iwaizumi had no retort, biting his tongue in nervousness as he felt a wave of relief and exhaustion sweep through him. It was too early for this.

“Come on! You owe me a pastry for taking so long!” Oikawa flit out the bedroom and Iwaizumi glanced over to the drawer his bandages were in before swallowing down a lump in his throat.

“Sure.” Oikawa blinked almost in surprise as Iwaizumi trailed after him.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah.” To try and distract Oikawa from the shock, Iwaizumi laced their fingers together. Oikawa’s expression softened and the corners of his lips curved upwards.

“Showing your love isn’t like you, Iwa-chan~.”

“Just ‘cos I’m not the romantic type, doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” His hand was squeezed, far too gently for Oikawa’s usual physical contact, and his panic spiked again. Had Oikawa already figured something out? Why was he being so gentle? Was he being careful?

“… Iwa-chan?” He jolted, and as he replied, his voice cracked and was much too high.

“Y-Yes?!” Oikawa raised an eyebrow with lips pouted slightly in thought.

“I was going to ask if you wanted breakfast before we go. But now, I’m wondering-…” Iwaizumi’s hands were sweaty. All he could think about was the rough way the plasters stretched at his skin and he could feel them curling over and the toilet paper was probably falling apart-

“… - maybe we shouldn’t watch a horror. If it has you jumpy now, I worry you’ll reach the stratosphere afterwards!” Oh thank God. Iwaizumi fights the urge to collapse in relief.

“Uh, yeah, I- My imagination ran away with the summary last night, aha…” They reach the kitchen and Iwaizumi takes his hand away from Oikawa to grab a plate and stick some bread in the toaster. At least if they’re eating, they won’t be talking. Or walking. He’s scared the impromptu ‘bandage’ won’t work.

As he’s waiting for the toast to pop up, Oikawa places a gentle hand on Iwaizumi’s back, just resting there for contact before he puts his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder peacefully.

“I worried it would spook you. You’re a softy really, Iwa-chan!”

“Shut up, Oikawa.”

“You cried when Godzilla died.”

“Sh-Shut up! We agreed not to talk about that!” Oikawa laughs, pressing his cheek against Iwaizumi’s. Much to his credit, both of them jump when the toaster pops up and chuckle. Iwaizumi snatches the toast out and butters both slices, offering Oikawa a bite silently.

“I think I’ll save room for those sweet, sweet pastries to go with my drink, but thanks Iwa-chan. You really are the sweetest.”

“I’m not.” The muttered words are out before Iwaizumi can stop them and he holds his breath, hoping Oikawa didn’t catch the self-deprecating tone. Oikawa’s eyebrows furrow. He did catch it, but he choses not to comment on it, and the arm he snuck around Iwaizumi’s waist feels him breathe out shakily.

Something isn’t right.

Iwaizumi carries on like normal, but Oikawa can tell it’s a front. He can sense it. They’ve been best friends since 3, so he can tell when something isn’t right. Or, he’d like to think so, but he’s well aware that Iwaizumi reads him better than Oikawa could ever read Iwaizumi.

He seems really… Distracted, though. Like something has spooked him and it’s definitely not the idea of watching horror movies.

“I changed my mind, give me a bite.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and holds the toast up to his shoulder for Oikawa to lean forwards, and he steals a massive bite. He waits for Iwaizumi to notice, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“… Shittykawa! I said you could have a bite, not half the slice!” The back of Iwaizumi’s hand smacks against his shoulder with controlled gentleness, and Oikawa almost chokes as he laughs around the full mouthful. Iwaizumi chuckles huskily at Oikawa’s idiot move, but melts into his embrace as they finish eating, sharing the toast between them.

“That would have been better with jam.”

“If you wanted jam, you should have made your own.”

“I was trying to save space for cafe goodies, but then Iwa-chan was taking too long.”

“That’s because you were early.” Oikawa detangles himself from Iwaizumi, although still keeps his hand wrapped around Iwaizumi’s wrist.

“Come on, come on! It’s cafe time!”

“Alright, I’m coming!” Iwaizumi tugs his wrist away and rubs at it where Oikawa has left slight pressure marks. It feels good. It hurts and it feels good. It feels like something, which is more than nothing. It feels like what he wants, what he thinks he deserves.

It hurts, and he wants it to hurt. His thighs suddenly tingle as his thought drifts to them and he bites his lip because hurting wasn’t enough. He was supposed to still be upstairs. He was supposed to be bleeding for another couple of minutes, then doing up the bandages before going to meet Oikawa.

But Oikawa had been early, and Oikawa had turned up at his house, and Iwaizumi hadn’t spent long enough with his scars and blood to feel grounded.

Everything seems far too loud, too much happening at once, and he’s sensitive to even the slightest change in his surrounding. It’s overbearing and he feels sick as they walk hand in hand to the cafe.

It’s only Oikawa’s hand that stops him from running to the closest cramped, dark place he can think of. He wants to cry, but he doesn’t because he can’t let Oikawa know. If Oikawa finds out, he’ll have to stop.

He doesn’t want to stop. Some day, pain is all he can feel, and inflicting it reminds him he’s alive. It’s not ideal, but that’s how things work. It’s what I deserve.

“Iwa-chan, what did you want?” He blinks, feeling dizzy and nauseous. He can feels trembles down his spine and in his hands, and his head pounds, mouth dry as if it’s been stuffed with cotton wool.

“H-huh?”

“What drink do you want?” Another blink or six, and Iwaizumi’s blurry vision clocks on that they’re in the cafe. It’s nice. Shades of blue and cream instead of the usual browns.

Oikawa squeezes his hand and Iwaizumi looks to him to notice the deep frown tugging at his lips, the way his brows furrow. The person behind the counter is waiting to take his order, and he looks up at the menu as if he could somehow read it through swirling vision.

Now he really wants to cry.

“I- I’ll have - um… I’ll have… A Mocha?” Luckily, it appears to be on the menu because the employee sets to work. Iwaizumi sighs quietly, and he feels Oikawa’s thumb stroke over the back of his hand.

“Iwa-chan, are you still sleepy~?”

“… Mhm. A little.” Not his best excuse, but it’ll do.

“I’m surprised you didn’t get the cinnamon and honey latte!” The chalk on the menu is starting to form letters he can recognise, and sure enough, there’s a cinnamon and honey latte just three lines above the Mocha.

“Oh. No, I… I thought it was too early for that. Maybe if we come here in the afternoon.”

“Hmmm… Okay. It’s a date.”

“We’re already on a date, stupid.” Warm breath brushes over his cheek as Oikawa laughs quietly and presses his lips to the corner of Iwaizumi’s, right where his dimples usually formed.

That reminds Oikawa he hasn’t seen those dimples in a while. He hasn’t seen Iwaizumi smile in a while, and paired with his strange behaviour, that sets alarm bells ringing. Something is most definitely wrong.

He’s about to ask when their orders are suddenly passed over, and Oikawa takes them both since Iwaizumi’s hands still appear to shake. Iwaizumi trails behind him as they go over to the tall chairs at one of the towering tables.

Iwaizumi gulps. He might be tall, but even he’ll have to step on the bar to get on the seat, as Oikawa does, elegantly and fluently. He can’t do it. He can’t do it. It’ll put too much stress on his thighs, it could break the skin again, the plasters could come off and he already feels them curling around the edges and if they come off so does the toilet paper and then his thighs will rub together and-

“Iwa-chan! It’s getting cold!” He licks his dry lips.

“Right…Can we- Can we sit somewhere else?”

“Huh? Why?”

“Just- Please.” Oikawa nods immediately, slipping from the tall seat. He can detect the tone of pleading, as much as he knows Iwaizumi is trying to hold it back, and when Iwaizumi says please without a teasing or affectionate nickname tacked on, it’s serious. Right now, Oikawa is slightly afraid.

“Okay.” They relocate to a corner, sinking into comfy chairs that look like modern armchairs, white and soft with fluffy blue cushions. As they sip at their drinks, Oikawa with one leg casually over the other, Iwaizumi hunched over with his knees pressed together, the Setter scans over his Ace with narrowed eyes.

Something’s upset you, Iwa-chan, and I will find out.

“… Why are you staring at me?” Before Oikawa can think of something witty or clever, his mouth works quicker than his mind.

“Are you okay? You seem a little off today…” He watches Iwaizumi stiffen, eyes widening and shoulders hunching up defensively. His eyes flicker away, darting anywhere except Oikawa’s face as he grips his drink so tightly, that it might break.

Oikawa leans forwards and gently eases the drink out of Iwaizumi’s hands, placing it next to his own mug on the small knee-height table between them. He takes Iwaizumi’s hands in his own, holding them securely and reassuringly.

“Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan, look at me. Hajime.” Green eyes snap up to meet his own, and Oikawa is taken aback by the fact they’re wet and ready to overflow. Iwaizumi never cries unless it’s intense, damaging, or scary movies.

The last time he cried was when they lost against Karasuno. Without words, one of Oikawa’s hands moves from Iwaizumi’s to his face, gently stroking a thumb over his cheek and catching a tear as it trails down.

Iwaizumi closes his eyes and leans into the touch, heart sinking into his stomach. He failed. He couldn’t keep it hidden. Oikawa knows. Oikawa will make him stop and he doesn’t want to stop, he wants to hurt.

“If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. Just know that I love you; I’m here for you; and if you need me; I’ll pull through.” He swallows, shakily raising his left hand to press over Oikawa’s on his cheek.

“I- I want to go home… I’m sorry for ruining our date, I just- I want to go home.” Oikawa gently shushes him and Iwaizumi opens his eyes just in time to see Oikawa leaning towards him, pressing their foreheads together. It’s only for a peaceful heartbeat, and then Oikawa presses his lips to Iwaizumi’s forehead instead.

“It’s okay to have bad days. When I have bad days, you never force me out the house. You immediately cancel our date, and you keep me company instead. You spoil me, Hajime, and you make me feel loved even when I feel like nothing. So- So let me do the same for you.”

“.. Okay…”

“Let’s get you home.” Iwaizumi nods and allows Oikawa to lead him out the coffee shop. He fidgets uncomfortable as they walk, feeling scraps of the toilet paper ripping off with friction and falling down his pants legs. The thought of a little trail embarrasses him, but still, he says nothing.

It’s when they’re still ten minutes from home that he realises the pain he’s been feeling isn’t just his thighs rubbing together. No, it’s the newly formed scabs coming off. He pales as he realises that at least one of the cuts is bleeding again.

He can feel a droplet rolling down his leg and subtly pats his shorts to let the material soak it up. Better that than have it trail down and have questions asked.

Adjusting himself every few minutes earns him a strange look from Oikawa and he holds his breath as he averts his gaze. But now, Oikawa’s eyes are on him. He can’t hide anything, because he’ll definitely be seen patting down his shorts. Especially if he directs Oikawa’s gaze to the surely bloodsoaked patch.

But… Would it really be too bad to tell him? He trusted Oikawa with all his soul, loved him with all his heart, and had known him practically all his life.

He knows Oikawa would make him stop, but…

Wasn’t stopping what he needed to do? Maybe if he stopped, he would feel less… Ugly. Scarred. Broken.

“Always be a burden though…”

“Wha- Hajime, what?!” Uh-oh. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. He swallows down a lump in his throat as Oikawa stares at him in betrayal, eyes watering with hurt.

“I… I’ll tell you more when we get home.” His voice is brittle, and Oikawa nods in understanding. The problem is; they’re still a full minute from home when Iwaizumi’s thighs can’t take any more rubbing together without a bandage for protection.

“A-Ah…” He wedges a hand between his thighs, slightly hunched over with a wince.

“Haji-”

“My cuts are bleeding.”

“Your- Your cuts?” Biting his lip, Iwaizumi looks down at the ground instead of at his boyfriend.

“I cut myself earlier. Thighs. Would’ve bandaged it but you were early…” Oikawa blinks. His mouth gapes like a fish and Iwaizumi tenses up as he waits for a reply. He waits for Oikawa to either start sympathetically blubbering, or shout at him for being so stupid. He doesn’t expect to suddenly be swept into a bridal style hold.

“Let me take care of you, okay?”

“… Okay.” He rests in Oikawa’s arms, letting the setter jog the final short distance to Iwaizumi’s house, since it was closer, and only has to move again to get his key out from his shorts pocket. His shorts, of course, have a large patch of blood on them and Oikawa is frightened to say the least. That much blood can’t be good.

He doesn’t put Iwaizumi down until they reach the bedroom, and he’s extremely gentle as he lays Iwaizumi on the bed.

“What do you need?”

“Damp sponge, skin tape, bandages. I’ll get the bandages.”

“No you will not, you stay right there.” Iwaizumi huffs, cheeks puffing out with irritation because he could get his things together perfectly fine. He’s done this many times before. He does, however, relent and allow Oikawa to gather the items - although he’s adamant on removing his shorts himself.

His boxers are pushed up to reveal his thighs and Oikawa winces. Some are new, some are old, some are shallow, some are deep. With his little knowledge of how quickly skin heals, he can guess Iwaizumi’s been doing this…

Since around the time they lost preliminaries for the last time.

“Oh, Iwa-chan… Hajime…”

“Don’t pity me. Get angry, or cry, or do something - I don’t give a shit - but don’t pity me.” Oikawa pauses in carefully patting the sponge on Iwaizumi’s left thigh and looks up at him with eyes half-lidded because no matter what Iwaizumi says, Oikawa can’t help but feel like he could have somehow prevented it getting this bad.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you start, Hajime?” A bitter, choked laugh sounds from Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s nose wrinkles in concern as he continues to wash away the blood.

“Because I’m a piece of shit.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.” Oikawa bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to immediately protest Iwaizumi’s opinion of himself. It wouldn’t do any good to just keep pushing. As he picks up the roll of bandages and unwinds it, he keeps his voice stern, but soft.

“Tell me why you think that way. And I’ll tell you every way that you aren’t.” Iwaizumi stares at him with darkened eyes, filled with self-hatred and Oikawa wants to kiss it away.

He knows that won’t work, though, especially not in the long term. He nudges Iwaizumi’s leg up onto his shoulder for easier access to his thigh and starts wrapping the bandage around with skill and dexterity.

“I-… I’m supposed to be so much better… Everyone always says I’m so great, so athletic, so skilled, but I’m not. I failed, Tooru. I failed! I was supposed to take you to nationals, I was supposed to get a scholarship into university, I was supposed to be happy! But none of that happened! I couldn’t even save your knee! I- I’m worthless…”

His legs are trembling. Oikawa can feel him shaking, and he takes his eyes away from the bandages and scars to look at Iwaizumi’s face. He has one arm thrown over his eyes, but there’s no hiding the trails of saltwater down the sides of his face. His other hand bundles in the bedcovers, gripping as tight as his teeth dig into his bottom lip, expression torn between self-loathing and sadness.

He looks like he’s lost every hope in the world, and Oikawa can only wish he’d intervened sooner.

“Hajime.” He waits until wet, green eyes look at him, and then leans forwards and presses a soft, tender kiss to the tip of Iwaizumi’s nose.

“Even if you didn’t do any of those things, you did so much more. You inspire people. You encourage them, you push us forward. My knee happened because of my own stupidity, there’s no way you could have stopped it, not even if you had handcuffed me to your side.” He pauses to huff a little in amusement at the mental imagery, well aware they’re constantly by each other’s sides anyways.

“You’re in Class 5, and I know you’ll make university look just as easy as everything else you do. Because you try so hard and practice constantly and Hajime… The amount of effort you put in is superhuman. When people talk about you being good at everything… They have no idea how much you’ve revised and trained and learnt. Not to mention the amount of times you do it for someone else.”

Oikawa kisses his cheek gently, and presses a hand over Iwaizumi’s heart soothingly.

“You have the biggest, kindest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. Don’t measure your worth by what you can’t do, Hajime, because you are worth every star in the sky. You are worth every raindrop in the desert, every kiss on your skin, every song in the world.” Iwaizumi opens his mouth to protest and Oikawa shakes his head to cut him off before he even says anything.

“Everything.” There’s a moment of silence where Iwaizumi closes his eyes and tries to stop himself crying, and Oikawa finishes wrapping up his thighs.

“Okay, that should do it. Tomorrow, you’re going to sit on the bench and analyse gameplay because I am not letting you play with risk of injury.”

“But-!”

“No buts! Except your butt, on the bench.” His gaze softens when he sees the bewildered and betrayed look Iwaizumi is giving him.

“Just for one day, Hajime. Just until these are scabbed over.” He brushes his thumb over Iwaizumi’s thigh and feels it tense beneath his touch.

“Fine.” Iwaizumi is pouting. Well, that’s better than the fragile frown he wore earlier. Oikawa breathily laughs, nuzzling into Iwaizumi’s nest of a hairstyle.

“Now close your eyes and rest. You’re exhausted.” With a quiet hum, Iwaizumi shuffles onto his side, nudging Oikawa to lie next to him, and snuggles in under Oikawa’s chin. A soft hand circling his back and feather-light kisses to his head guide him into a light doze, letting fatigue take over.

“Tooru…?”

“Yes, Haji?” He shuffles before he replies, whispering into Oikawa’s collarbone.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, much more than you could ever imagine.”

“To the moon and back…?”

“And all the way to galaxy cluster Abell 1835.” Iwaizumi snorts and Oikawa’s lips quirk up because it sounds like a tiny, restrained laugh.

“I don’t know where that is, dummy.”

“Very far away~. Now shhh. Sleep. I’ll look after you.”

“Mhm. Love you.” The soft mumble, the press of lips against his skin, is the last thing Oikawa registers from Iwaizumi before he finally drops into a dreamless sleep. With Iwaizumi asleep, Oikawa allows himself to quietly cry, upset that he didn’t notice how Iwaizumi felt earlier, how he had no idea it was this bad.

It’s going to take a lot of help and a long time to make him feel better. But Oikawa will stand by his side with love, unshakable, unconditional.

[shercockadoodledoo]

Idk man but I'll give $20 and the naming rights of my first born if you wrote a one shot incorporating that one post about dating an actor and getting asked what have they been in so you can reply with ME. Imagine that but with nezushi

fic’s under the cut, anon, pay up. i accept US dollars only, no bill smaller than a five. please shove the cash at your screen and chant my url three times (or is it five? i can never remember the semantics of direct interweb cash transfers). your first born child will be named Pootato (that was not a spelling error i want it to be that exact combination of “poo” and “potato,” no negotiation). enjoy the fic you bastard

oh, and this is the post that the anon is referring to, if you’re curious

Afteronly three months at Shion’s new position as co-director of scientific researchat Tokyo’s Wildlife Conservation Facility, the organization held its annualcharity banquet, and Shion downed six flutes of champagne before Safu was grabbingthe sleeve of his suit.

           “Tell me those empty glasses aren’tyours,” she hissed, jerking Shion’s arm away from the seventh flute he was reachingfor.

           “Hm?” Shion asked, distracted,unsure why he was being pulled away from the champagne.

           “I go to the bathroom for fiveminutes, and you’re already swaying on your feet. You can’t get intoxicated atyour first corporate party! What has gotten into you?” Safu demanded, whileShion tried to focus because he was pretty sure Safu was accusing him of beingdrunk, which was incorrect.

           “That is incorrect,” Shion said,finding it more difficult to speak than usual, which was odd.

            “You can hardly drink a glass of wine withoutbreaking out in song, why would you do this?” Safu groaned, pulling Shionsuddenly. “Quickly, step this way, your co-director is nearby.”

           Shion stumbled but righted himself,feeling Safu’s arm wind around his waist and prop him up.

           “Safu,” he whispered, while Safucontinued to pull him somewhere – he had no idea where, and didn’t much mindone way or the other, as he was having fun, and that was the point of parties,he largely suspected.

           “What?” Safu snapped.

           Shion frowned and blinked so that hecould focus on his friend. She appeared to be unhappy. Not unhappy, exactly.Concerned? No, that wasn’t it. Or was it? The room seemed to be spinning, whichwas a strange phenomenon and rather distracting from his attempts to untanglehis friend’s expression.

           “This is a terrible impression togive your coworkers who after only three months are still forming impressionson you, Shion. Especially seeing as this is your first social corporate function,you should really be making wiser choices,” Safu lectured.

           Shion sighed and let Safu pull himto wherever she was pulling him, which happened to be a round table with awhite tablecloth.

           Safu sat Shion down, then occupied thechair beside his and scooched it closer, her fingers lifting his chin.

           Shion watched his friend’s eyesskating over his features.

           “What’s going on?” he asked mildly.

           “I’m trying to gage your intoxicationlevels to see if it is more or less prudent to allow you to attempt to conversewith your colleagues.”

           Shion sighed again – he felt verytired, suddenly – and rested his elbow on the table, his cheek in his palm. “Imiss Nezumi,” he mumbled.

           Safu stopped peering at him soclosely, straightening up and looking at Shion with some surprise. “Oh. Is thatwhy you got drunk?”

           Shion felt surprised as well. “I’mdrunk?”

           “Yes.”

           “Oh. Whoops,” Shion laughed. What aterrible idea, to get drunk at his first work party.

           “He’s only been filming for a month.And you’re flying out to see him next week, it’ll be fine.”

           “Well, yeah, I know it’ll be fiiiine,” Shion replied, stretching outthe word and almost falling off his palm onto the table, but he caught himselfin time and propped his chin back up onto his hand. His head felt heavier thanusual. “I don’t want fiiiine. I wantNezumi. Who is also fine,” Shion added, with the realization of the word’sdouble meaning, which made him laugh.

           He could be so funny. He wishedNezumi had been around to hear his joke.

           “I have to call him.”

           “What?” Safu asked, as Shion lookedaround the table for his phone.

           “Where’s my phone?”

           “Probably in your pocket. Shion, youshouldn’t call Nezumi. With the time zone difference, it has to be around threein the afternoon in LA, he’ll be in the middle of a shoot.”

           Shion fished around in his pocket,and there, indeed, was his phone. He wondered if Safu had x-ray vision to seeit there.

           He unlocked his phone, glad for thetouch ID unlocking function, as the numbers on his screen were swaying a little,and it might have been difficult to catch them under his fingertips to type inhis code.

           Clumsily, he managed to find Nezumi’sname, while Safu talked at him and said things he couldn’t be bothered to payattention to.

           Shion hummed along with the rings ashe placed his cell to his ear, and then there was Nezumi’s voice.

           “If it’s not an emergency, pretendit is so my director doesn’t kill me, he’s been pretty pissed today and myringing cell at the shoot doesn’t seem to be cheering him up, oddly enough.”

           Shion smiled on hearing Nezumi’svoice, pressed his phone harder to his face. “Hi,” he said happily.

           “Oh, you’re dying are you? Why, that’sterrible, hold on one second – Yeah, I’m gonna have to take this, I need fiveminutes – Hey, he’s dying, just giveme five – Fine! Yeah, go ahead, replace me with Bradley Pooper or whatever hisname is, I don’t give a shit! Asshole.” Nezumi muttered the last bit, and thenthere was a clattering sound, and then there was silence.

           “Uh, Nezumi?” Shion asked,uncertain.

           “Hey, the director wanted to take awater break anyway, I can talk. What’s up? Why does your voice sound weird? Holdon – Aren’t you at your fancy cocktail party for your new job? Should youreally be calling me right now?”

           “Is there really an actor namedBradley Poopy?” Shion asked, then started laughing at the idea. He didn’t knowmuch English, but he’d started picking up a bit of it after Nezumi startedshooting American movies, and he was fairly certain he remembered what the wordpoop meant.

           “Something like that, they’ve gotweird names here. I think it’s a fame tactic, you know, stage names and shit.You sound a little slurry, you’re not drunk, are you? Because that’d be areally terrible idea.”

           “I’m not drunk,” Shion agreed, thenstarted laughing again because if he remembered correctly, he was drunk.

           “Unbelievable. Is Safu there? Shouldn’tyou have someone chaperoning you? Why on earth would you go and get drunk?”

           Shion was so happy to hear Nezumi’svoice, but it hurt at the same time. All he’d gotten from Nezumi the past monthwas his voice. Sometimes an image over a screen if they Facetimed, but Nezumiwas exhausted most nights from filming, and Shion was taking on more work thanhe’d ever had before at his new job, and they were usually too tired with theirconflicting time zones to talk long.

           “If you were here, I’d kiss you,” hetold Nezumi, a promise, a temptation, maybe Nezumi would jump on a plane and comehere, travel back in time because LA was seventeen hours ahead, find Shionyesterday morning and kiss him before Shion had to start missing him so hard ithurt.

           Nezumi was quiet, and then, verysoftly, “I miss you too.”

           There was a shouting behind him, andShion looked over his shoulder before realizing the shouting was coming from thephone.

           “Ah, shit. I gotta go, okay? I’llcall at the usual time, go find Safu and drink water and stay away from anyoneimportant. And Shion, listen to me, this is very important – Do not threaten tobite anyone. Do you hear me? Promise you won’t.”

           “I promise,” Shion said, his eyesburning until he blinked the burning feeling away, and then there was Nezumi’svoice again.

           “Talk to you in the morning, YourMajesty,” Nezumi was saying, and then there was the click of him hanging up,and Shion took his phone from his ear, looked at it helplessly, wondering whyvoices could travel instantly but bodies could not, who invented that anyway,Shion would have given up the ability to hear Nezumi’s voice in order to touchthe man’s cheek in a heartbeat.

           “Who invented phones anyway?” hedemanded angrily to Safu, who was watching him in a wary way.

           “Maybe we should get you home. Youcan make some excuse to your colleagues later, say you got a stomach bug. Yes, Ithink that’s best. Come on, time to get up now,” Safu was saying in a rush,standing and reaching out, so Shion took her hand, remembering Nezumi tellinghim to go to Safu – so he would stick with Safu because he trusted Nezumi, morethan anything, he trusted Nezumi.  

           Halfway across the hall, Shion heardhis name called, and then Safu was cursing under her breath, and then they werenot walking anymore. Shion leaned on Safu because he felt a little drunk – oh yes,he was drunk, he’d forgotten but remembered and felt accomplished forremembering.

           “Shion – Are you all right?”

           Shion blinked at his coworker. Itwas not a woman he’d seen very often, but he knew they’d been introduced. Hetried to remember her name, thought most likely it was also the name of arodent, but no, that was Nezumi, he was thinking about Nezumi again, he triedto concentrate back on the nameless woman even though he would have ratherthought about Nezumi a little more, just a little.

           “What?” he asked, because he knewshe’d asked a question and was trying to appear coherent.

           “He’s fine,” Safu cut in quickly, “hejust – ”

           “Oh, but you’re not Nezumi. We’veall heard about him of course, company gossip,” the woman said, laughing. “Iwas so hoping we’d get to meet him today.”

           She had black hair curled at theends. She wore a red dress. Shion decided he would memorize these details abouther, catalogue them, use some formula to calculate her name in this way, thoughhe didn’t know what the formula was.

           Maybe Safu knew. She was smart. Shetended to know things.

           “Hey, Safu,” Shion whispered,elbowing her, and Safu elbowed him back, hard.

           “No, I’m not, Nezumi couldn’t makeit,” Safu said loudly, giving Shion a sharp look.

           “Oh, is it work, because rumor hasit, he’s – ”

           “Are you talking about Nezumi?”Shion blurted out, catching thread of the conversation. “He’s an actor,” Shiongushed, leaning forward and feeling Safu tug him back.

           The woman brightened. “So it istrue! Is he famous?”

           Shion nodded happily. “Very veryfamous. And beautiful. And talented. And beautiful.”

           “You said that already,” Safumuttered.

           “Oh? What’s he been in?” the womanasked, and Shion thought about it, couldn’t remember a name of any of hismovies or even the plays Nezumi did before he got into movies, but then heremembered that Nezumi was not only in films,he was in much more important things, or rather, one thing in particular thathe hadn’t been in for a month what with their new long distance stint, whichfrankly was getting on Shion’s nerves.

           “Me!” Shion shouted, and then he waslaughing at his own joke and nearly doubled over, felt Safu haul him back up, caughtsight of the woman who did not seem to understand, so he attempted to help herbecause humor, he knew, was not everyone’s strong suit. “You know. Sex,” Shion elaboratedslowly, miming with his fingers the act of it. “This is Nezumi,” Shioncontinued, holding up his forefinger, “and this is me,” he finished, indicatingthe hand where his forefinger and thumb made an “o.”

           “He’s very drunk, I’m so sorry,goodbye,” Safu was saying in a sudden and rushed way, pulling Shion so abruptlyaway that he stumbled over his feet and nearly fell into Safu.

           “Ow, oof, wait, did you hear myjoke? I just made a joke. Did you hear it?” Shion asked.

           “Yes,” Safu said, rather curtly,when she should have been laughing, which made Shion think she was lying abouthearing the joke, maybe to save him the time of having to say it again, butShion didn’t really mind saying it again.

           “So what happened is that lady askedwhat Nezumi did, and I said he was an actor, and she said, ‘Oh, what movies ishe – ’ No wait, that’s not how it went, I messed up the joke, she said – ”

           “Shion, please be quiet now,” Safuinsisted.

           “Nezumi would have liked the joke,”Shion said, sulking.

           Safu didn’t say anything, and thenshe laughed in a breathy, light way, pulling Shion out the banquet hall doorsand into the cool night air. “Yes, I suspect he would have.”

THEEND

[bitchinlyras]

Season One: Romantic Stylez

I don’t really know what this is, I watched ‘The Party’ episode of b99 and had an idea, it’s basically just a ‘what if’

read on ao3 instead

Jake would be lying if he’d said that he didn’t feel something for Amy other than mutual annoyance and grudging respect. There definitely was something between them, he’d felt it over the years, never stronger than the night of their ‘date’, but what that particular something was he couldn’t tell you—until the night of Captain Holt’s party.

It would also be a lie to say he hadn’t noticed Amy’s attractiveness over the years, at the start of their partnership it had just been another source of annoyance, because of course she had to be hot as well as being super smart and good at police work.

But seeing her in that red dress, he was blown away with just how truly beautiful she was.

“What?” Amy asked him, looking bewildered as she caught him looking at her. They were standing at the back of the group, feeling alone despite being surrounded by many other guests.

“Nothing, I just…” he trails off before composing himself—reverting to teasing her with a smirk—“I think that dress is a knockout,”

She rolls her eyes and punches him lightly in the shoulder, but her eyes sparkle and she has to compress a smile.

“You gonna tell the Captain he looks beautiful again?” Jake adds with a grin.

She shakes her head with exasperation, “Oh shut up, Peralta,” she says, a hint of playfulness in her voice, before she walks away.

“Santiago!” he calls after mockingly (a couple of guests turn to stare), “You look beautiful!”

“I swear to God, Peralta!” she yells back, without turning around, disappearing into the crowd.

He laughs to himself, the smile staying on his face long after she is gone.

It is by pure coincidence that they find themselves alone in the Captain and Kevin’s bedroom later that night—Amy there to find out as much as she can about Holt, and Jake to prove to Kevin that he is smart.

“What are you doing in here?” Jake asks in a low whisper.

“I could ask the same about you!” Amy retorts.

“I need to dig myself out of this pro-slavery hole I’ve dug with Kevin,”

Amy raises her eyebrows, “I’m not even going to ask,”

“Yeah, probably best not to,”

He runs over to one of the bedside tables and starts looking for the New Yorker; it doesn’t take him long to find it. He flicks through it, and finds the article quickly, but he looks up at Amy, who is scanning the bookshelf, more curious about her than the article. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to find out things about the Captain, so we’ll have things to talk about and he’ll like me,”

“Wouldn’t he like you more if you didn’t break the rule about coming upstairs though?” Jake points out.

“Yeah, well you always break rules and he sure seems to pay a lot of attention to you,” Amy replies.

“Paying attention to and liking are not the same thing, Ames, not even in the same league, trust me.” he tells her, standing up, and walking over.

She turns to face him. “Trust you?” she says it like a challenge, hands on hips, one eyebrow slightly raised; then her expression softens, “You’re my partner, of course I do, and you’ve probably got a—“ Amy’s cut short by a high, but sharp bark coming from the ensuite. Startled, she jumps back, bumping slightly into Jake.

He gives a small laugh, “It’s just a…” he says, ready to tease her, but stops at the expression on her face. She’s looking at him, her face soft; her eyes darting across his face, down to his lips. She leans ever so slightly in, just close enough for him to feel her breath. She hesitates, and both can feel their hearts going a million miles a second. Jake feels frozen, unable to move.

Then she kisses him.

At her touch Jake unfreezes and kisses her back enthusiastically, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. She slides an arm up his chest and around his neck. To say kissing Amy Santiago in that red dress is the best feeling ever is an understatement, an oblivion of pleasure so great washes over him, yet every part of him feels so alive.

***

Downstairs, Terry has finally been able to escape his conversation to go and find Jake and Amy after he saw them disappear up the stairs five or so minutes ago.

He runs quietly up the stairs and begins to search for them on the second floor.

“It says no going up stairs, how hard is that to obey?!” he mutters to himself.

He opens the door to the room he assumes is Captain Holt and Kevin’s bedroom. “Peralta? Santi—“ he starts, before spotting them, wrapped so tightly around each other. “Oh my god!”

The two jump apart, shocked by their Sargent’s sudden appearance.

Terry steps quickly into the room and shuts the door behind him. “What the hell?!” Terry scolds them in a harsh whisper. “You two came up here, into the Captain’s bedroom, to, to…” he gestures wildly at them.

“No, we came up here to do completely different things,” Amy tells him quickly, “and then I- we, uh…” she trails off, her cheeks reddening; she can’t look at either of them.

“Look, we all knew this would happen at some point, and I don’t know how long this has been happening, but it can not be happening in the Captain’s bedroom! Okay?”

The two nod their heads. “I know, we’re sorry, Sarge,” Jake apologises for the both of them.

Terry opens his mouth to say something else but before he can all three of them hear the unmistakable voices of their Captain and his husband. Their eyes widen, and Terry gestures at the ensuite and they all hurry in, shutting the door just as Holt and Kevin enter the bedroom.

Amy muffles her own squeal as she steps back and grabs onto Jake’s arm, hiding behind him, at the presence of a corgi waddling up to her. At her touch both Jake and Amy make eye contact, and jump away from each other, mortified.

“Do not. Make a sound.” Terry hisses at them in the quietest whisper, picking up Cheddar the corgi.

“Do not blow this for us,” Jake whispers to the dog.

Outside they can hear Holt and Kevin arguing about Holt inviting his colleagues to his party, something it sounds like Kevin wasn’t on board with.

Amy tries desperately to hold in her sneezes, and to help her, Jake covers her mouth with a hand towel (and he notes to himself that she’s grabbed onto his forearm again), which works, until it doesn’t — she let’s out a sneeze, a small, high pitched sneeze, but a sneeze all the same; Terry and Jake stare at her, eyes wide with horror.

“Santiago, are you hiding in my bathroom with my dog you’re deathly allergic too?”

Amy shares a defeated look with Jake. “No?” she says, almost hopefully.

Holt opens the door, and he and Kevin stare at the sight before them, which would be humorous to anyone else: Jake and Amy crouching together, Jake holding a towel over her face, and Terry standing next to them, a look of disconcertedness on his face, holding a very smug looking Cheddar.

“Occupied?” Jake says, in that same hopeful tone as Amy before.

“What… on earth… are you doing, detectives?!” Holt demands, his voice rising with each word, pausing between them enough just to make Amy quake in her shoes.

“Captain, I can explain,” Amy replies quickly, standing up straighter; her hand falling away from Jake’s arm.

“Well go ahead, detective, I would like to here this,” he folds his arms sternly.

Amy opens her mouth but no words come out, instead a strange strangled noise comes out, and Jake has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.

“Hmm, just as I suspected,” Holt muses, and Amy looks down at her feet, her cheeks reddening; Holt turns to Jake, “Peralta? Do you have an explanation?”

“I, uh, needed to go to the bathroom, and the downstairs one was occupied,” Jake lies in an unconvincing tone.

“And you couldn’t have just waited?”

“I had diarrhoea from those fancy shrimp, it would’ve been all over everyone if I’d waited downstairs,”

“Then why did you feel the need to bring Santiago and Jeffords with you?”

“Well, in case I fainted,” Jake responds without missing a beat.

“In case you… fainted?” Holt asks, disbelieved etched into his stony tone.

“Yeah, y’know, from all the… poop projecting out of my buuuutt,” his voice drops on the last word, and he grins widely at Holt’s disapproving face; Kevin snorts and mutters ‘good people’.

“Jeffords?” Holt asks, “I trust you have an actual explanation for me.”

“Santiago wanted to get to know you better so she could connect with you,” Terry tells him, and Amy goes even redder, looking from her feet to the ceiling, “and Peralta was looking for the article of the New Yorker to talk about with Kevin, because he only actually read about three lines of it when he was at the dentist,” Terry glares at both Amy and Jake, who he of course he believes he is covering for with the most likely story, which he is in a way, yet he is also, technically, telling the truth, “and I came up here to stop them.“

“Well that does seem to be the most likely story out of the three, not that, uh, Santiago’s was really a story—“ Amy whimpers again, eyes still on the ceiling “—and now for violating my privacy and trust, I need you all to leave,” Holt says to them.

“Even me, sir?!” Terry asks indignantly.

Holt hesitates for a moment, “No, you can stay, but you two,” he says, eyes on Amy and Jake, “I am very disappointed in you,”

Amy whimpers again, and Jake sighs, “Aren’t you always, Cap?”

“I said get out, Peralta,”

“Right, you got it,” Jake says quickly, half running out of the room; Amy follows him, her steps heavy with disappointment in herself; Terry follows the pair.

“Sargent,” Holt says, just before Terry leaves the bedroom.

“Yes, Captain?”

Holt points at Cheddar, still tucked under Terry’s arm. “The dog,”

“Oh, right,” Terry chuckles nervously and hands him back, nodding awkwardly to both Holt and Kevin.

“Well, what were you saying?” Kevin asks his husband once Terry has left.

***

Jake and Amy walk awkwardly side by side, away from the Captain’s house. It’s dark, and the sky is dotted with a stars; the street lamps are light dimly, not in a creepy or dull way, more in a romantic way.

“So,” Jake breaks silence, “should we, um, talk?”

Amy breathes in. “Yeah, we probably should.”

“Over here,” Jake points to a bench, by a street lamp, further up the street, and the two walk up to it and sit together.

Amy fiddles with her hands like she does when she’s nervous, turning them over and over; Jake sits, jiggling his leg up and down slightly, staring determinedly ahead at the opposite side of the street; neither wants to be the first to talk.

“I… uh… I kissed you,” Amy finally says, her voice quiet and breathless; they still aren’t looking at each other.

“And I kissed you back,” Jake murmurs after a moment.

“Yeah,” Amy breathes into the night; she turns to look at Jake, “Jake,”

He turns his head and their eyes meet, and he melts at the sight of her warm brown eyes, crinkling at the corners with a smile.

“I like you, Ames,” he finds himself saying, “romantic stylez,”

“With a ‘z’?” she asks, an attempt to lighten the mood and forget about her suddenly lightening fast heart beating at a ridiculous speed in her chest.

He laughs. “With a ‘z’.”

She gulps, looking away, and sighs, closing her eyes before saying what she knows will hurt him. “I can’t date someone from work, Jake,” she opens her eyes and looks back at him; his face is expressionless, he just nods.

“I get that,”

“And especially not you, because you’re not just my colleague, you’re also one of my best friends, Jake,” she says earnestly, “and I couldn’t handle wrecking that.”

Jake smiles sadly, nodding again.

“And I know I kissed you first,” Amy continues, “and I’m… I’m just— I’m sorry,”

He smiles, less sad this time, “Really, Ames, it’s fine,”

She lets out a sigh of relief. “Friends?”

“The best, according to you,” he teases, an attempt to jump back into their old ways — it works.

Amy grins. “I’m never gonna live that down am I?”

“Never, I’m going to bring it up every time you say something bad about me,”

She beams at him, lighting up the dimly lit street; it doesn’t matter what she just said about being friends, he can see the truth in her eyes and he smiles back.

“I, uh, should probably get back to my car,” she says after a moment.

“I’ll walk you,” Jake offers.

They walk to her car in silence, but a comfortable one, rather than the awkward one from before.

When they reach her car, Amy turns and smiles at Jake, but there’s something sad in her expression. “You’re a good guy, Jake,”

He has no idea how to respond to that. “Uh, you too, good guy, no, girl — woman,” he stutters.

Amy laughs, before the same sadness returns; she leans up and kiss him quickly on the cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow,”

“Yeah,” Jake mumbles, slightly stunned, “tomorrow,”

As she gets in her car and drives away he watches, his heart aching and grinding his teeth; then with sad determination, he walks back to his own car.

[4eversociallyawkward-blog]

My first “romantic” experience

I usually cringe on it, but when I manage to talk about it it usually gives people a good laugh. So here we go.

I was in high school, with my friends we began hanging out with people from the nerd scientific section (generalist French high schools are divided between Scientific, Economic, and Literary sections).

Keep in mind that at that time I was hella shy and lacking self confidence. I basically valued myself as slightly better than dog poop.

So here I am in this new group, hiding behind my bestfriend, when I notice this guy with acne ridden face staring at me from accross the table. I purposedly tried to avoid his look, but could still feel it on me.

One or two days later, my best friend (K) comes over and tells me “hey this guy likes you and wants your number” and I’m like, say no more I know who that is. She ended up giving him my number, and he began talking to me. First reflex, I check is facebook, only to find some pictures of him and his family disguised weirdly, and that he seemed to have dark thoughts.

I was thinking “why the fuck is he interested in me ? I’m not good looking, I’m not even thin, I’m not interesting”.When he’ll realize how terrible I am, he’ll run away and I’ll look like a fool. Plus, I worked hard to become the invisible one, and I didn’t like the way the possibility of a couple being formed shone the spotlight on me.

That’s for the not fun part.

So after a week of texting back and forth he propose that we spend lunch break together, and “invites me” to the school’s cafeteria. It goes ok, I don’t recall much as I was busy counting the incredible amount of pimples on its face.

Then, he suggests we go for a walk until our classes start again. It’s about 2°C (35°F) outside, but I say ok, and off we are. The whole walk is very awkward, we don’t talk much, he keeps looking at me and gigling. Sidenote, our school is 20 minutes away by foot from the city’s graveyard. He was talking about his sister and told me he had a game they played at graveyards, and asked me if I wanted to play with him. That made me a little ... uncomfortable.

Pro tip : If you’re on a first date with a girl, don’t take her to the graveyard.

I politely refuse, saying that I’m cold and I’d rather go back to the school. He looked as if I had slapped him in the face. I feel bad but their no way I’m following him to a cemetery to play whatever “game” he has in mind. We were almost back when he suddenly grabbed my arm and looked at me in the eyes, and said with a low voice, almost whispering but with a deep voice, (idk maybe he thought it was attractive) “Melanie. I think you are aware of my ... *chokes on the word* feelings for you, what do you think”. At that point I don’t know what to answer so I go “I need to think about it..” and try to escape, but he starts a long tirade going along the lines of “Melanie I’m madly in love with you , I think about you all day everyday, please love me”. I’m so nervous that my body decides the best way to react is uncontrolable laughter. I felt horrible and had to bite down hard the inside of my cheeks to hold it. He took my wide grin as approval,until I said “Hum, I don’t think I am ready for a relationship right now”. He then slid his moist hand along my side, while whispering “Let yourself go, Melanie”. The insides of my cheeks must have been bleeding by then. It could have been romantic, now that I see it written, and in English, but GOSH the way he said it ... It REALLY creeped me out. It even became a joke between my close friends who knows about it, they’ll come close to my ear and whisper “laisse toi aller ...” to freak me out. It’s just an unusual thing to say in French.

So I manage to flee back to my friends, with the promise I’ll tell him what I think the next day. I spent the whole night awake, pondering about what I’ll say to him, and came up with that hopefull cheering speech to reject him.

Then I met up with him the following day and my mind went totally blank, and I just ended up saying “You...are... too weird.”

I KNOW I AM A MONSTER gosh I’m sorry. So here’s how my first ever date went down. No kiss, just cringy moments. Also, there was a part two to this story, I might write it too.