#and the nail in the coffin that might just ruin me

[sparkly-lexi]

I'm scared.

This is the only social media platform I feel remotely comfortable on. I left behind all others because they only resulted in annoyance and pain. For a while this was my favorite place. But now?

I'm scared.

I'm gonna log in one day and be gone. I've made so many friends here and they're just ripped away from me. I don't have the strength to fight like everyone else. I want to fight but I freak our every time I speak up. Even right now as I type this

I'm scared.

But I can't just say nothing. Out of fear, I finally decide to make my voice heard so at least I have something to say before getting nuked. Because if I do get wiped, I'd like to do so without silence. Because I don't want to go quietly if I do, I want to go down swinging if I go down at all. And I want to be able to say the very thing all the rest of us are thinking.

I'm scared.

I've never felt more afraid of being openly queer. Normally I'd be annoyed at corporate rainbow pride, but both online and in my real physical world, this year it doesn't even exist. There are no local businesses doing Pride this year, not even my local Target. It's officially too high risk of profit loss to support the queers. Pride feels like it's being stripped away, and the one place I could once rely on is a place I could wake up to and find I'm suddenly removed from it. Friend groups are shattering, drama is rising, being queer is a death sentence, and we're being silenced at every turn. And i don't know what else I can truly say except

I'm scared.

[rebelfell]

I love your writing so much it's giving me so much joy. I was close to dropping out of the Eddie fandom because I couldn't enjoy the current trends of writing him but you write him so well I'm falling in love again. Do you have any writers on here that inspire you or that you would recommend to follow if that's ok.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Oh. Oh, anon. The way I wish I could print this out and hang it above my mantle. And I don’t even have a mantle. Thank you so much, truly.

I think I would have to tag every single writer in this fandom to accurately portray who inspires me. There is such a wealth of work about him, there’s something for everyone out there.

Whatever version of Eddie you want to read, he exists, and it’s not a matter of anyone’s version being better/worse, but what speaks to you.

I am gonna list some of my favorites, because I deeply want to give people their flowers, but my brain is also mashed potatoes and I hate for anyone to feel overlooked/left out.

So this is BY NO MEANS a complete list.

My sideblog @madeofmunson has pretty much everything I’ve read and my blathering recs. I’m gonna link this post I made last year, in which I babbled about some of the stories that really impacted me as I entered the Eddie fandom.

A number of them are what I would consider to be modern classics in the fandom, so I doubt you’ve missed them, but just in case 😘

And the rest are going under a cut because I am a loquacious so and so (if you couldn’t already tell)

@aphrogeneias writes such a fun, silly, goofy Eddie, but WATCH OUT because he’ll hit you with the feels out of nowhere. rockstar!eddie and his assistant make my knees weak on the regular.

@bettyfrommars has it out for me, specifically. They ruin me over and over and KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH IT (partly because I keep going back but that’s neither here nor there)

@br0ck-eddie is the undisputed reigning champ of soft, sweet eddie. They put out all of these little vignettes that make me feel so warm and gooey inside like I’m literally butter in the microwave.

@jo-harrington’s mind is WILD. I don’t even know how they come up with some of their concepts and I can only imagine what it’s like to create whole universes in your head from nothing.

@lesservillain fucks my brain up every time they post. I learned a whole lotta stuff I never knew about myself from their omegaverse fics 😳 Namely what the omegaverse was…

Read Red String and thank me later.

@littlexdeaths I want to put in my pocket and carry around with me all the time. They will start with just a little blurb and the next thing you know you’re swept away in the current of a whole saga and desperate to find out what happens next.

@lonelysatellites is a devastatingly good writer. I still think about Safe Hands and Bruises and how they altered my fucking brain chemistry. Actually, now that you mention it…I might need to go re-read them…again…

@mrsjellymunson is a radiant ball of light. They write stories that are just FUN and silly and sexy and they deserve only the best 💖

@somnambulic-thing is…an enigma. They have the capacity to write something so emotionally devastating I have to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling for 10 hours about it. Or they will write something that is so silly and lighthearted it makes your belly ache with joy and love.

And then go and write something that is BOTH.

@the-unforgivenn is literally the sweetest soul who ever lived, I think they were a piece of candy in a past life. They write a great Eddie and a great Corroded Coffin (specifically Gareth) became they really nail that band banter/dialogue.

@trashmouth-richie makes me horny and makes me laugh and makes me horny all over again. They write with a real razor sharp wit and confoundingly good smut 😵‍💫

@urhoneycombwitch is so creative, so skilled. They create the kinds of Eddie’s that burrow under your skin and make their home there. Roomate/neighbor!eddie have my heart.

@word-wytch just received a lot of the brunt of my flailing about one of their chapters, so if you haven’t read Don’t Stand So Close To Me - DO IT.

Seriously there are still so many more 😭 But I gotta stop or I’m never gonna actually post this. If you’re reading this and your name isn’t here, it so would be if I had infinite time ♥️ Yes, you.

I did not even touch on my Steve writers???????? (see @stuffedwithsteve for them)

[youhideastar]

WujiWatch: CQL Rewatch Episode 25

Something that I’d suspected on previous rewatches really became inescapable on this one: when Wei Wuxian leaves Baifeng Mountain, even before he meets Wen Qing, he has already made the decision to leave Yunmeng Jiang Sect.

He’s been staying for three reasons—for his brother, for his sister, and for the sect—and in this episode, each leg of the tripod is knocked out. “Staying for Jiang Cheng” was already tenuous from the previous episode: Wei Wuxian knows that he’s a constant disappointment to Jiang Cheng and doing a shit job as Jiang Cheng’s second-in-command. But Wei Wuxian goes into this episode believing that, by virtue of his power/skill, he’s still a huge asset to the sect, and that, as a brother, he has to stay for Jiang Yanli. By the end of the episode, he will come to believe the opposite: that both the sect and his sister are better off without him.

When it comes to Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Wei Wuxian learns in this episode (from Jin Zixuan) that people are saying the Yin Tiger Seal somehow harmed the cultivators who were there when he used it at Nightless City and so Wei Wuxian (and thus Yunmeng Jiang) owe them compensation. Wei Wuxian’s greatest strength is thus instantly transformed into a liability for his sect. The same thing happens, symbolically, at the crowd hunt, where Wei Wuxian uses his incredible power to draw 30% of the prey into Yunmeng Jiang’s nets—and instead of being impressed by Yunmeng Jiang’s strength, people say it’s cheating and reflects poorly on the sect, ultimately forcing Jiang Yanli to apologize on Wei Wuxian’s behalf, which Wei Wuxian clearly finds almost unendurable.

Speaking of which, when it comes to Jiang Yanli, as a fandom we tend to focus on her absolute ethering of Jin Zixun and how badass it is—which is fair! But that’s clearly not Wei Wuxian’s takeaway from that interaction. He looks extremely upset the whole time she’s defending him—I think in part because he hates the idea that she has to defend him. As far as he’s concerned, it’s his job to defend her, and this confrontation means he’s failed.

Then, when the dust has mostly settled on the Jin Zixun thing, two last straws: first, Jin Zixuan confesses his feelings for Jiang Yanli, meaning that she is now pretty much certain to marry him; and second, Jin-furen tells Jiang Yanli that she shouldn’t be alone with Wei Wuxian anymore because it will spark rumors that the two of them are sexually involved. The first honestly might have been enough on its own to make Wei Wuxian believe that he’s just dragging Jiang Yanli down – he tried over and over to protect her from Jin Zixuan, and now it’s clear all that effort was futile at best, and actively detrimental to her hopes at worst. (He could have figured this out a while ago, obviously! Jiang Cheng did! But here we are.)

But that second piece is really the nail in the coffin. Wei Wuxian may not like Jin-furen, but he has to recognize that she genuinely cares for Jiang Yanli and has her best interests at heart. When she says to Jiang Yanli, “Stay away from Wei Wuxian or your reputation will be ruined”—especially in a feudal setting where a woman’s reputation for sexual purity is everything—he has to take that seriously. And he does. Not instantly; he still grabs Jiang Yanli’s wrist and tries to pull her away again. But when she resists, he stops in his tracks. And that’s when it’s over.

That’s when he bows to Jin-furen and says, “Then I have to ask you to take care of Jiang Yanli for me”—confiding his sister to her care going forward. That’s when he tells Jiang Cheng, with a strange gentleness, “I might not be able to be there with you”—supposedly about the Flower Banquet, but it’s clear he’s not talking about just that. That’s when he gives Lan Wangji a “Farewell, Lan Zhan” that sounds way too final for someone who’s just heading out to walk around town. I don’t think Wei Wuxian necessarily has a plan for what he’s going to do next, as he walks off of Baifeng Mountain and through the Lanling streets. But I think he’s already made up his mind that he won’t be going back to Lotus Pier.

[thegayloragenda]

“I’ll tell you something right now / I’d rather burn my whole life down / than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning,”

“I’ll tell you something about my good name / It’s mine alone to disgrace / I don’t cater to all these vipers dressed in empath’s clothing.”

Hey Swifties — what do you think she’s referring to when she singing these lines? What is she burning down? What is disgracing her good name? According to the media narrative, she is straight billionaire in a heteronormative relationship with a star football player that the entire world is obsessed with. She is literally the American Dream.

What would be a disgrace to her name?

If you think it’s about her on-and-off again 10 year love affair with Matty then why would she choose Ice Spice over him to cover her ass in the press and then rebound with Travis immediately after? That’s not very full throttle through the fences of her.

Ohhhh I know!!!! Is it because she might have cheated on Joe with Matty? Oh wait. No y’all didn’t see that as bad either. She’s still god status.

Hmm…

Is it because she’s a 34 year old woman dropping the f-bomb in her songs? Is it because she’s wearing a sexy little bodysuit or giving a chair a lap dance? No because her “good girl” persona has pretty much stayed intact. I think we can all confidently say that she’s definitely still America’s sweetheart. After all, she’s never had much “edge”.

Maybe it’s because she pissed off some republicans. OH WAIT! They actually forgave her because she’s dating an NFL hero! There’s really only a few Christian conservatives who have dropped her but that’s barely made a ripple in her pond.

The only thing that *might* ruin her would be her political silence (after promising to speak up) and the possible queerbaiting / the use of historical queer flagging. Oh but guess what? She became a billionaire despite both of those possibilities. And what a fucking slap in the face to the queer community and the injustice that the world is currently facing to essentially say “I’m a bad girl because I lie to the public about the things I care about and the type of person that I am so go fuck yourself!” If that’s who you want to worship, be my guest.

I need y’all to put on your critical thinking caps for this one…

Could it possibly be that she’s preparing you for something?

That she’s much more intelligent and deeper than you are giving her credit for.

That she is Machiavellian.

That she resents putting on an act and (cue the tour visuals) is using her final era to put a nail in her own performance art coffin and burning her media reputation to the ground on her way out?

Perhaps, these songs — much like the songs on Midnights — will make sense to you as the clock ticks and more is revealed. After all, wasn’t it the Gaylors who said Midnights was a breakup album? Oh but we got crucified for it until the tour started and she dropped You’re Losing Me to make it all suddenly make sense. God bless the patience of Taylor Swift because having to spell it out for you dipshits when you don’t even fucking have enough brain cells to comprehend what she’s writing about is INSANE.

If it’s not about Joe and it’s not about Matty and it’s not about Travis then I wonder what it could possibly be about…

Well maybe, just maybe, you’ll discover that all along…you weren’t even listening.

[daechwitatamic]

X. So I Follow || KNJ

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni

Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, the absolute slowest of burns

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader, unrequited Taehyung x reader

Beta'd by @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii - thank you endlessly!

Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love. 

Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.

//

In light of the incident with Taehyung, you prepare to spend Christmas alone.

Section Warnings: language, arguing/fighting (just some shoving), angst!, but also fluff in this one wow, bar scenes and recreational drinking

WC: 7.8k

The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold. - Journey | Edna St. Vincent Millay

You watch it cross his face as Taehyung decides to make you prove it, but you don’t have enough time to react before he’s doing the thing you’d day-dreamed of time after time after time - before you knew Namjoon. He’s closing the gap between you, his hand curling in the fabric of your jacket, his lips finding yours, searching for something that three months ago he probably would have found. 

You shove Taehyung in the chest with both hands, and he stumbles away from you. 

“You fucking asshole,” you growl. “What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“You said we’re the same as we’ve always been?” he spits back. “You’re a fucking liar.”

You’re so blindingly angry, suddenly, that you can barely think, can barely match up words to make a sentence. “Fuck you,” you manage, the words feeling like they’re torn from your chest, leaving a bloody, gaping wound in their place. “I can’t fucking believe you.”

His brows furrow; for a minute, he looks genuinely lost. Then, something hard replaces the look. “You’re that serious about him? Already?”

You’re ready to answer this affirmatively, but he presses on. “You’ve never dated anyone, never even got to a second date. Now you’re seeing this guy for, what, a few weeks, and I’m nothing to you? Just like that?”

Something changes inside of you; you go from boiling angry to pure ice in only seconds. The silence pulses and then flatlines between you, as dead as your friendship. All you can do is stare at him, the seething rage knitting itself into something metallic instead. 

“I waited for you,” you tell him, deathly calm, like you’re explaining a math problem. At your sides, your hands are shaking. “I waited for you for years. I cannot - I do not have words for how deeply unfair it is for you to show up now and try to ruin this for me.” You spit the words, clipping your consonants hard.

Neither of you has ever said it out loud. But it’s out now. No take-backs.

He stares at you, chest heaving, eyes wide. There’s no going back to how things were, now. That option is well and truly buried, nails in the coffin.

“Goodbye, Taehyung,” you force yourself to say, and you turn and take the steps at a clip, letting the door shut behind you, leaving him out in the cold for good. 

You stop on the staircase, nearly at your floor, and slump against the bannister. What are you going to say to Namjoon? Hey, by the way, the guy you knew I had feelings for just kissed me. Maybe not quite like that. But you definitely have to tell him.

Honestly though, you don’t feel like you have the bandwidth for that conversation right now. You feel like… you feel like you’re grieving. 

You need the space and time to mourn, to accept that you’ve walked away from something that you’ve lived in comfortably for years. To accept that you’ll never have back the friendship you once had - even if you and Taehyung manage to land somewhere okay when this is all over, the truth is things will never again be how they were between you. It just isn’t possible. 

You don’t want to cry over Taehyung in front of Namjoon. He’s already given you so much grace, so much understanding and patience. This… this would be too much. At least until you can calm down, get your head right, talk about it rationally. So, when you enter the apartment and find his door closed, you leave him be. You head for your own bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind you.

–

Namjoon feels tortured and trapped in his room; he paces, he tries doing sit-ups, he takes a shower just to hold his breath under the spray of hot water.

None of it helps.

Finally, like a dog with its tail between its legs, he flops on his bed in defeat and picks up his phone.

[11:24 PM] Namjoon: you guys wanna say i told you so now, or later

[11:24 PM] Hobi: uh oh

[11:25 PM] Yoongi: what happened

Namjoon sighs, rubs a hand over his face. He doesn’t want to tell them. But he can’t shoulder this alone, he knows himself well enough to know it. 

[11:27 PM] Namjoon: just caught her kissing him

[11:28 PM] Namjoon: literally right in front of the apartment

He closes his eyes, resting his phone on his chest. He can feel it buzz with the reactions rolling in, but he feels like he can’t make himself look at them. 

Something niggles in the back of his mind, stirs in the pit of his stomach. 

Something about how your hands had been balled into fists at your sides.

[11:29 PM] Hobi: what the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck

[11:30 PM] Yoongi: dude i’m sorry

[11:31 PM] Hobi: bro that’s a dick move by taehyung

[11:31 PM] Hobi: like thats legitimately not okay he owes you a huge apology

[11:32 PM] Hobi: if i were you i’d go to his place and talk to him. like right now.

[11:34 PM] Yoongi: forget talking to taehyung, that can wait

[11:35 PM] Yoongi: have you talked to HER yet??

[11:37 PM] Hobi: wow double question mark. Mr Min is serious

[11:37 PM] Yoongi: shut up hoseok

[11:39 PM] Namjoon: i dont think i can even look at her right now tbh

[11:39 PM] Namjoon: let alone talk…

[11:42 PM] Namjoon: wtf would i even say to her?

[11:45 PM] Namjoon: ‘was it everything you ever hoped for?’

[11:45 PM] Namjoon: fuck

He sets his phone on the mattress beside him and closes his eyes. Stupid… stupid… stupid… It echoes through his head, harmonizing nicely with Hobi and Yoongi’s voices telling him he gives people - women - too much faith, lets them take advantage of him. 

But you’d told him you were in this. 

You’d told him you wanted to be with him, not Taehyung. 

You’d told him this thing between you was real, and that it deserves to be. 

He’s told you he trusts you. Did that change? Was he wrong to?

Or are things not adding up?

He picks up his phone again. 

[11:52 PM] Hobi: might be nice to have some answers

[11:53 PM] Yoongi: that’s true… we all know this wouldn’t be the first time taehyung has shown his ass… 

Namjoon considers this silently. He starts to get up, then stills. This repeats twice more, before he finally throws himself out of bed and leaves his room before his nerves can fail. He crosses the living room to find your bedroom door shut – rare, these days. He knocks, calls your name quietly. When you don’t answer, he tries the doorknob.

It’s locked.

“Hey,” he calls. “Let me in.”

You don’t answer. 

He knows it’s not the same, not what’s happening now, but he’s picturing you on the day you’d gone silent, laying in bed, facing the wall, unmoving, unblinking. His chest clenches with the need to make sure you’re okay, despite what he’d seen, despite the conclusions he’d drawn.

He leans his forehead against the cool wood of the door. “Baby,” he says, voice so hushed it’s practically a whisper. “Please, open the door and talk to me.”

He waits a long moment, one hand against the door, and then the doorknob clicks. As soon as he can see your face through the crack, it’s clear you’ve been crying.

His brain starts running possibilities as fast as a bullet-train. You’re crying because you know you did something wrong, and you feel guilty. You’re crying because you’re conflicted about who you want, and it’s hurting. You’re crying because you’ve decided to be with Taehyung after all, and you know you have to let Namjoon down. You’re crying because…

“What happened?” he manages to ask, feeling like there’s glass in his throat as he tugs the words out of his stomach. 

He resists the urge to reach out and touch your face, wipe a stray tear away.

You take a deep breath, avert your eyes. Then you seem to steel yourself and say very clearly, “Taehyung just kissed me.”

Then, you rush ahead, the rest of the words tumbling out of you so fast that Namjoon almost misses some of it. “But I pushed him away – I called him an asshole, I told him he missed his chance.”

You take another breath, eyes filling with fresh tears. You still haven’t looked up at Namjoon. “I’m sorry,” you finish in a whisper.

Namjoon doesn’t remember moving, doesn’t decide to move, but his arms are suddenly around you as you bury your face in his shirt, shoulders still trembling a little under his hands.

He’s so overcome with relief that it almost makes him go boneless – relief that he hadn’t been wrong to trust you, relief that you’d chosen him after all.

But as he holds you, as he feels your shaking slowly ebb away, he remembers the times you’d called Taehyung family, the stories you’d told of having no one else. In that moment, he truly feels your sorrow down into his own bones.

“You have me,” he thinks, then realizes he’s said it out loud. You shift in his arms to look up at him, eyes big and red-rimmed. He gives you a little squeeze, struggles to wade through how protective he feels with you. “I know that maybe it’s not the same… but for as long as you want me there,” he promises, “you have me.”

Tuesday December 11th 

You lay in Namjoon’s embrace, chest to chest, his strong arms locked behind your back. You’re not sure how long you’ve been encased like this, one leg tucked between his, listening to his heart beating next to your ear. Long enough for the sweat to cool. 

You shiver a little, and Namjoon runs a hand reverently down your arm, chasing away goosebumps with the warmth of his palm. Behind him, you can hear your phone vibrate on your nightstand.

Again.

You try to pretend you don’t hear it. You try to distract Namjoon by reaching up to kiss his jaw sweetly. He looks down at you, eyes narrowed, seeing right through your bullshit.

“Is that him again?”

“I don’t know,” you say innocently. “I haven’t looked at it.”

But you both know it is. 

He’s been calling - and texting - since you left him on the sidewalk two nights ago. You’d turned your phone off on Sunday night, as soon as you’d cottoned on that he wasn’t going to give up. When you’d gotten brave enough to turn it on Monday morning, it was to three voicemails, unending missed calls, and a series of texts that blurred before you as you teared up over their desperation. 

[12:18 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: please pick up

[12:31 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: pick up the phone [12:32 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: talk to me

[2:52 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: i’m so sorry [2:52 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: i’m such an asshole [2:52 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: fuck i’m so so sorry

[3:22 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: please talk to me [3:23 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: you’re probably sleeping so i’m gonna stop [3:24 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: but if you decide you want to talk please call me

[9:04 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: good morning [9:05 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: can we talk today?

You hadn’t answered any of it, and he’d continued Monday afternoon. 

[4:46 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: please, talk to me so i can apologize for real [4:52 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: you’ve never not talked to me for this long before [4:54 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: even that time i backed into Lin’s car and let her blame you…  [4:54 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: did i fuck everything up that badly?

Yes, you want to tell him. But you don’t have the heart. It’s hard enough, takes enough of your self-control, to resist answering. To resist telling him it’s okay.

It isn’t. You know it isn’t.

As the texts roll in through Monday night and Tuesday morning, you feel like Namjoon’s steadying gaze on you, or his hand solid in yours, is the only thing that keeps you from skittering back into safe, familiar old habits. And to his credit, he barely leaves you alone while you’re both home. He stays in your space, quiet and calm, watching you carefully, searching for signs that you might need more from him. 

The phone buzzes again, insistent - a phone call.

You sigh in Namjoon’s arms. “Maybe I should answer him,” you muse. “If for nothing else, then to tell him to knock it off.”

Namjoon rolls to pick up your phone and places it, still buzzing, in your hands. “It’s your decision,” he says carefully. 

You watch Taehyung’s name, with the stupid emoji after it, scroll across the top of your screen. You don’t pick up. 

“I don’t think I’m ready,” you admit. “I don’t even know what I’d tell him. I have nothing to say.”

“Then don’t,” Namjoon advises gently. “Turn it off for a while. Let’s get something to eat.”

“Yeah,” you say absently, pressing your finger to the power button. “You’re right.” You watch, feeling utterly hollow, as your screen goes black.

Thursday December 13th

It’s hard for Namjoon to watch, honestly, though he does his best to bite his tongue and just support you. But you float through the apartment like a ghost, and he can’t help but feel guilt over the fact that you chose to be haunted for his sake.

You’re staring at your phone, which - despite being powered off - is sitting by your elbow. Like, even though you pressed the power button yourself, you're waiting for the next call.

“You should do something for yourself tonight,” he hears himself suggest. Problem-solving mode again, like he just can’t help himself. But maybe it’ll be for the better. “Like a bubble bath or something. Why don’t you go run one? I’ll pour you some wine.”

The look you give him nearly knocks his knees out - you turn to him with a look of pure adoration, disbelieving wonder. You look at him like he’s too good to be true.

It breaks his heart. It breaks his heart that a simple act of kindness feels so large to you - because no one, not your family, or fucking Kim Taehyung, or any of your other friends, had ever done it for you.

“You should leave your phone out here,” he suggests. “Bring a book.”

You give him a different sort of look, then, one that says don’t tell me what to do.

“I’m just saying!” He smiles innocently. “It’ll ruin your inner peace if you turn it on.”

“Inner peace,” you grumble at him, but you head into your bathroom, your phone face down on the breakfast bar. A minute later, Namjoon hears the bathtub water running. 

He brings you in a glass of wine as promised, also carrying in the poetry book you’d bought him at the antique shop a few days ago. 

“Don’t get this wet,” he warns jokingly. You smile up at him, most of you hidden beneath an aggressive amount of bubbles. 

“I won’t,” you promise. “I have a tray.” 

Namjoon backtracks to the kitchen, recorking the wine and wiping down the counter. He’s humming absently, lost in thought about what he’d been writing, when he hears footsteps stop outside the front door. 

His intuition kicks in with a quick slap of adrenaline. He opens the front door roughly and immediately shoulders Taehyung backwards into the hallway, closing the door behind him and crossing his arms, physically putting himself between Taehyung and you.

Taehyung gapes at him, eyes wide, mouth dropped in indignation. Then, his pride catches up, and his eyes narrow. “What are you, her bodyguard?” he asks sourly. “Did she tell you not to let me in?”

“No,” Namjoon admits, willing himself to stay logical, not to let his temper take over. “But I want to talk to you.”

“I just bet you do,” Taehyung mutters. 

Namjoon breathes in for four, holds it for four, lets it out for six. He’s known Taehyung for years, sees him as a nuisance of a little brother in a lot of ways, has a lot of affection for him. But watching you hurt, and hurt, and hurt - it isn’t going to continue. 

“I’m sorry you found out about us the way you did,” Namjoon says, hoping that beginning with his own apology will help soften the rest of the conversation. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I wasn’t trying to be… it would have been better for her to talk to you about it on her own terms. I didn’t mean to take that away from her. Or you.”

“I really don’t want to talk about this with you,” Taehyung says, voice low and dangerous. “I want to talk to her. Move.”

“You need to back off,” Namjoon says carefully. “You’re breaking her fucking heart, bro. Give her some time.”

Taehyung laughs in his face, the sound ugly and echoing in the empty hallway. “Fuck you,” he says. “If it’s breaking her heart to stay away from me, doesn’t that tell you something? She wants to talk to me, she misses me. Move.”

Namjoon shakes his head, clings to reason, tries desperately to make Taehyung see reason, too. “Try to understand,” he begs. “You’re messing with her head. Do you even want her? If she came out here now and said she wanted to be with you, would you even know what to do with that?”

Taehyung’s eyes narrow even further, if possible. “What are you talking about?” he asks, the question like a hiss between his teeth. “You’re pissing me off, Namjoon. She and I need to talk - get out of the way.”

Namjoon’s temper flares. “Taehyung,” he says, just one of many times in their friendship he’s felt like he had to talk sense into the younger man. “You don’t love her, so let her go.”

Taehyung freezes, then raises his chin, face flat and impassive. “Who says I don’t love her?” he asks, bone-chillingly cold.

Namjoon breaks eye contact, takes another steadying breath. “Feeling like she’s yours,” he says quietly, like he’s trying to explain, “doesn’t make it love.”

Taehyung makes a disbelieving tch noise, but Namjoon pushes on.

“Feeling like you have a claim on her doesn’t mean you love her. And you know what? Even if it did, even if we agreed that you love her… this is not the right way. She deserves to be loved the right way, and this isn’t it. And if you don’t want to lose her completely, then you need to wrap your head around that.”

Taehyung is spared having to respond to this. Behind Namjoon, you’ve been listening from the doorway. You step into view, your face flushed from the warm bath and the glass of wine, flushed from what you’ve overheard.

Immediately, Taehyung moves closer, trying to dart past Namjoon to reach you, saying your name like a prayer.

“Please, let’s talk,” he begs, the words all a rush. 

Namjoon keeps his body between you, but glances over his shoulder at you. Taehyung’s intended dig about being your bodyguard doesn’t feel too off, right now. “Do you want me to make him leave?” he asks, feeling so worked up he thinks he could probably carry Taehyung out of here by the back of his neck if given the okay. 

“No,” you say, your voice tiny. Namjoon tongues his cheek, but steps aside. Taehyung shoots him a cutting, victorious look, but then you speak again, your voice still so little. “But… will you stay?” You creep into the hallway, looking entirely unsure, and Namjoon welcomes it happily when you press against his side, one of your hands resting over his diaphragm, the other curling into the material of his shirt over his back. 

“Taehyung,” you whisper, and Namjoon’s heart breaks again at the look of betrayal and hurt that you level at your best friend. “What are you doing?”

“I –”

“Taehyung,” you say again, so broken, and it stops him in his tracks. “You don’t love me. You never did. So what the hell is happening here?”

He looks back at you, a look of absolute devastation crossing his face. For a second, Namjoon feels bad for him - just for a second. “Please, let’s talk by ourselves,” Taehyung begs.

You shake your head. “After the shit you pulled last time? Absolutely not.”

“I’m sorry,” he blurts. “I shouldn’t have - I know I shouldn’t have - it’s just -

“What?” you snap, suddenly pissed all over again. 

“I can’t lose you,” he says plainly. 

You look at the ground, then - inexplicably - up at Namjoon. Like you’re deciding something. Like you’re calculating. Then, you look back at Taehyung, your body language changing as you stand up straight again. When you speak, your voice is firm and even. 

You grounded me.

“I don’t want that either,” you say, finally. “But I’m not going to be with you - not like that. And let’s both be honest - you don’t actually want that, either. You only went there because you thought someone else was winning. And frankly? I refuse to play. So you know what, Taehyung? When you can grow up and figure out what you actually want, you can call me to talk about it - not until then.”

You disentangle yourself from Namjoon and stalk back inside. Namjoon pauses. Taehyung is staring at the ground, unblinking.

“You’re my friend, too,” Namjoon says quietly, feeling like he can’t even look Taehyung in the face right now. “I hope we can figure that out, too, when you’re ready.”

Taehyung’s response is his middle finger over his shoulder as he stalks down the hallway towards the stairs. 

Friday December 22nd

Through cobbled streets in tiny towns Through suffocating crowds on city sidewalks Down dirt lanes and past silent, towering silos

I follow you

Through pathless forests, over tripping roots Beneath canopies of black and green Over fallen trees whose rings tell of being felled

I follow you

To mountains bathed in sunlight’s glory Up slopes that want to pull me down To views of winding rivers - strips of ribbon below

I follow you

To ocean waves that crash and scream Tantruming relentlessly against packed sand shores The line of the horizon ebbing with the moonrise

I follow you

My feet are meant to follow yours My heart is meant to follow yours The world is mine, but I want only yours

So I follow 

I follow you

–

You close the notebook before you can scratch anything out. That one needs to marinate a little. It’s not like you to forgo a rhyme scheme, and you’re not sure how you feel about the flow.

You haven’t heard from Taehyung in almost two weeks. But you haven’t reached out, either. 

When you hear Namjoon come through the front door, you slide your notebook back into your backpack, leaving no incriminating evidence.

“Hey,” he says, stopping by your side and giving your shoulders some affectionate squeezes. “What are you up to?”

“Was writing,” you tell him. “Sort of.”

He laughs at sort of. “What a mood,” he says with a smile. Then, he drops himself in the stool next to yours at the breakfast bar, drumming his knuckles where your notebook had been just moments before.

You know that tic - he’s anxious.

“What is it?” you ask, instantly worried. “Did something happen?” 

You’re imagining all sorts of scenarios - Taehyung confronted him, Elyse texted again, he failed an assignment, he’s breaking up with you -

“Nothing bad,” he assures you, stopping the spiral in its place. “I just had something to ask you. I guess I’m nervous. I know I shouldn’t be.”

“Oh,” you say. “Okay. Well - what is it?”

He glances at you shyly, and you feel your heart swell with affection. 

“What are your Christmas plans?” he asks. 

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t this. 

“Oh,” you say again, deflating. “I was… just staying here, I think.”

The I think is a lie. Your plan was absolutely to stay, alone, in the apartment. You had no intention of going home for the holidays. It would mean over an hour in the car each way with Taehyung, whom you haven’t spoken to in ten whole days. Plus, Lin is working. Normally you’d go to Taehyung’s house and let his parents try to pretend you weren’t imposing, but that’s not an option this year either.

Honestly, the idea of your first Christmas without them - Taehyung’s mom and dad - is kind of depressing. You’d sent a gift in the mail, but it won’t be the same. 

Namjoon raps his knuckles again. “Um,” he says, so uncertainly that it makes you smile a little bit, “how would you feel about coming home with me? To my parents’?”

You’re stunned into silence. “I - Do - Would your parents be okay with that? It’s not too last minute?”

“They’d be thrilled,” Namjoon tells you seriously. “They thought I’d never get ov- I mean, they’d be happy to meet you.”

You smile to yourself at his slip. “When were you going to leave?”

“I’m taking the train in the morning. Plenty of time to pack.”

“I need to do laundry,” you muse out loud, already in planning mode. 

“So, you’ll come with me?” he clarifies. 

“Yeah,” you say slowly, still mentally writing a to-do list. “If you’re sure I’m not imposing… they have to feed me and everything. You’re sure it’s okay?”

He laughs, kisses the top of your head. “I promise,” he says. 

Later, as you and Namjoon sit side by side on the couch, folding laundry together, your phone buzzes on the coffee table.

Your heart leaps, hoping it will be Taehyung, caving just in time for the holidays, wanting to talk it out before Christmas Day.

It’s Lin.

Your heart sinks, your throat gets tight. You push the hurt and disappointment aside and avoid Namjoon’s knowing gaze as you open the text. 

[6:22 PM] Lin: i just ran into taes family

[6:22 PM] Lin: they said hes coming home tonight

[6:23 PM] Lin: will you be here tonight? We didn’t talk about it

You purse your lips. 

[6:25 PM] You: sorry, i should have called you. I know you’re working so i wasn’t planning on coming home

[6:26 PM] Lin: oh. Are you going to be alone?

You type the start of an answer - “no, staying with my -” and pause, looking over at Namjoon.

“Joon?” you ask, and he looks at you, surprised. “I don’t know - I mean - Should I say we’re -?”

He leans to read over your shoulder, smiling when he sees “with my -” and your cursor waiting patiently for you to finish the thought. Your what? Friend? Roommate?

You glance up at him, feeling your face flush. “Do I say boyfriend?” you finally ask in a whisper. 

His smile almost splits his face. “Is that what I should tell my mom?” he counters, his own phone in his hand.

You grin at him. “I will if you will,” you tease.

His smile turns cocky. “At the same time, then?”

[6:31 PM] You: no, staying with my boyfriend’s family

[6:34 PM] Lin: your WHAT?????????

Namjoon brings his phone to his ear, still smiling at you. When someone picks up, he says, “Eomma? Listen, I know it’s last minute - my girlfriend will be alone for the holidays, would it be okay if she came home with me instead?”

On the other end of the line there’s a series of unintelligible shrieks, and Namjoon’s playful smile only grows. “Yah, I know, I know, I’m sorry!” he laughs. “You’ll meet her! I know! I’m sorry!”

You giggle quietly. 

“No, no, Eomma, you don’t need a gift for her, just send us home with leftovers, that’s more than enough,” he says, eyes widening. “It’s last-minute for her, too, no one knew about this ahead of time. It’s okay. No, the guest room is perfect. Eomma, the guest room is fine. Let me talk to - Dad, hi.”

Giving him a reassuring pat on the knee, you stand, taking the folded laundry with you.

–

You’re essentially packed, your suitcase closed but still unzipped on top of your bed when Namjoon sticks his head in the door, that playful, up-to-no-good smirk on his face. 

“What?” you ask him, smiling. It’s contagious, you can’t help it. 

“Yoongi and Hoseok want to know if my girlfriend will come get a beer with us tonight,” he says, his smile growing sideways. 

You laugh. “News travels fast.”

He gives a sheepish chuckle. “I tell those two everything. I can’t function without them.”

You eye him suspiciously. “Is this going to be an interrogation?”

He considers this. “Probably,” he admits. “But I’ll keep them in check. They’re just… protective. Especially after the Elyse debacle.”

You sigh. “You’re asking me to handle the best friend interrogation and meeting your parents all in the span of twelve hours, you realize that, right?”

Namjoon’s face falls a little. “You’re right,” he says. “Sorry. It’s okay - I’ll go by myself tonight -.”

“No, I want to go,” you say quickly, holding up a hand to stop his backpedaling. “I’m just saying. I think you owe me some cookies or something.”

His smile returns, tentative. “Let’s start with I’ll buy your beer tonight,” he jokes.

“Deal,” you tell him, but when you find yourself on a sticky barstool in a mostly dark hole-in-the-wall, a pitcher deep with the three guys, you’re wishing you’d demanded cookies after all.

Hoseok gets up to get a second pitcher, and Yoongi leans forward on his elbows, eyeing you carefully.

Here we go, you think. Namjoon shoots you an apologetic look and you shrug him off. 

“So, it’s official now, huh?” Yoongi asks, voice a touch too casual.

“Apparently,” you say dryly, eyes on Namjoon. He’s kicking at Yoongi under the table, as subtle as an elephant. 

Hoseok returns, carefully placing the new pitcher of beer on the center of the table. Namjoon reaches desperately for a refill.

Yoongi tilts his head to the side, eyes still on you, calculating. “You don’t want to be with Taehyung?”

“Hyung!” Namjoon protests, spluttering over his beer. Beside him, Hoseok frowns and murmurs Yoongi’s name reprimandingly. 

You will yourself to stay calm, not to get defensive. “I don’t,” you say evenly. You hope the truth of it will be enough.

“You did though,” Yoongi points out.

“Hyung!” Namjoon barks a second time, starting to actually look pissed now. 

But it’s a fair point. And Namjoon has never once through this whole thing asked you to explain yourself, has never asked you to defend or examine the way your feelings have changed since he met you in August.

So maybe he deserves to hear this answer, you think.

“Yeah,” you say, because it’s true. Yoongi’s entire demeanor changes with this admission - like he’d expected you to lie, or deflect. Like he’s ready to take you way more seriously now that he knows you’re willing to be honest. 

You rub your hands down the tops of your thighs, trying to dispel the sweat collecting on your palms. “I guess I learned…” you say, thinking as you speak slowly, “I know that Taehyung loves me, but… I didn’t have anything to compare it to, before. I had never felt anything for or… received love from anyone else. I had nothing to put his… fragmented version of loving me into perspective.”

“Yah, you writing people are so well-spoken,” Hoseok sighs over his beer. Namjoon glares daggers at him.

Yoongi presses forward. “But now?”

You give Namjoon a tiny smile across the table. “Honestly… now I’m not sure how I could have ever been so wrong,” you say to him, not to Yoongi. You know he needs to know.

Saturday December 23rd

“Explain to me why I’m nervous,” you complain, your foot bouncing as the countryside rolls past the train’s window outside.

Namjoon smiles at you indulgently, and then places a large hand over your knee to quell the bouncing. “You’ll be fine.”

“I’m scared out of my mind.”

“So what you’re saying is, this is a bad time to tell you that my parents hated Elyse?”

Your blood runs cold. “They what? You’re fucking with me, right?”

He grimaces. “Unfortunately, no. I mean, they were never rude to her. They just… never warmed up. Each time we’d fight and get back together, my mom… well, she made sure I knew how she felt about it.”

“Great,” you say dourly, eyeing the window. 

He gives your knee a squeeze. “You’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

You’re a jumble of nerves for the rest of the ride. 

When the train slows to a stop in Namjoon’s hometown, he leads you by the hand down the steps and out into the cold.

“That’s my dad’s car,” he says, pointing to a dark green sedan. “You ready?”

“No,” you joke, but you follow him towards the car, hoisting your duffle bag higher on your shoulder as you go. 

Namjoon’s father exits the vehicle and comes around to hug his son; it hurts to watch, for some reason. Something inside you aches at it.

When he turns his attention to you, you greet him respectfully, and then Namjoon helps move your duffle bag into the car. 

The drive to the house from the train station is quick - if it weren’t December and carrying luggage it would be walkable. Inside, Namjoon hugs his mother as well, towering over her. You greet her formally, and she gives you a tight-lipped smile, welcoming you to their home.

“Thank you for letting me join Namjoon here for Christmas,” you say, glancing sideways at him for reassurance. “I know it was last-minute.”

“No one should be alone for Christmas,” she tells you, her voice soft and even, and Namjoon squeezes your arm affectionately. “May I show you the guest room?”

You follow them both through the house and to a small room with a narrow single bed, a nightstand, and a small chest of drawers. In the corner, in a beam of morning sunlight, is a tall, leafy plant. This makes you smile; it feels like Namjoon’s touch.

“How long are you staying?” Mrs. Kim directs this question at her son, and you turn to look at him as you place your duffle bag on the end of the bed. 

Namjoon hums, considering. “I’m not sure yet,” he tells her, leaning comfortably against the doorframe. “We’d planned for the 27th, but I was looking at the weather forecast while we were on the train and there’s a storm coming through. We might have to try and get back before that, so maybe the 26th. We can play it by ear.”

She shakes her head, swats playfully at his elbow. “You know I’m no good at spontaneous decisions,” she chides.

“We’ll keep an eye on the weather and figure out the plan,” he soothes. 

She turns back to you, casting a playfully sour look at Namjoon over her shoulder as she does. “If you want to use the drawers for your clothes, you can,” she tells you. “The bathroom is straight across.”

“Got it,” you say, trying to sound breezy and cheerful. “Thank you again for taking me in. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

She nods at you, smiling. “I’ll let you get settled in,” she says, and brushes past Namjoon on her way back down the narrow hallway. 

His gaze on you is suddenly heavy. 

“What?” you ask.

He opens his mouth to speak, then looks over his shoulder, seems to think better of it. “Want to go for a walk?” he asks instead. “I have a place I’d kind of like to show you.”

Everything inside you that’s been held tight like a breath melts into something soft. “Okay,” you tell him, reaching for your coat, which is shoved under your duffle bag on the bed. “Let’s go.”

As you pass back through the kitchen, Mr. Kim is seated at the table, buried in an open newspaper. A cup of coffee sits, untouched, near his elbow. Mrs. Kim stands on a step-stool, searching a high cabinet for something, muttering under her breath.

“We’re going to walk down to the pond,” Namjoon says. His father lowers the newspaper and smiles at him a little absently. “Gotta show off the geese.”

He steps out the kitchen door that leads to a sloping backyard and you follow. Once you’re halfway across the yard he reaches back for your hand, not turning to watch you take it. 

“Geese, huh?” you ask.

He turns to grin at you. “It’s my favorite place. Come on, keep up.”

“We don’t all have long legs like yours!” you protest. At the end of the property, there’s a small space between two hedges, the grass in the gap long worn away by frequent foot-traffic, only dirt remaining. He leads you through the gap and down the rest of the hill, where you can see the ink-dark water of a still pond waiting below. 

When you arrive at the water’s edge, you notice that there is - as promised - an entire flock of geese, as well as a large swan. 

“I heard swans can be nasty,” you say, a little apprehensive.

Namjoon puts his arm around you, looking out over the water. “Ah, that’s Clarence. He won’t mess with you. The geese might, though, especially when their babies are around.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Clarence? You named the swan?”

He laughs, the sound low and melodic, warm and welcoming. “He’s been around for a few years. We have an understanding.”

This startles a giggle out of you, and Namjoon looks down at you, smiling.

“I love having you here,” he admits fondly. “This is my favorite place - I’d come here to think, to read, to write. Sometimes, to clear my head.”

“You like to go outside when you’ve got shit going on,” you agree. 

“There’s a Welsh saying,” he says seriously, “that means to kind of get your head on straight, to sort your thoughts out. But when you translate the words literally, they say to return to my trees. That always spoke to me.”

“Wow,” you say lightly, running the words through your mind again. “To return to my trees. I like that.”

He stands quietly next to you for a minute, both of you watching Clarence and his geese friends cross the pond at a snail’s pace. 

“You know what I like about you?” he finally says, as a small breeze picks up enough to rustle his hair, to blow yours around your face. “I can say shit like that to you and you take me seriously. I’ve never had anybody like that in my life before - not even with my friends.”

You get it - you never really had that, either. You smile up at him. “I like pretty words.”

His smile goes crooked for a second. “I like pretty words and pretty girls.” He gives you a squeeze.

“What a line!” you laugh, but you can feel your face flushing. “Did you look that one up on the internet?”

He laughs too. “I was inspired, what can I say?”

You lapse into comfortable silence again, watching the edge of the dark water lap at the muddy shore. “Can I say something?” you ask after a minute, and Namjoon looks down at you, surprised.

“Yeah,” he says. “Of course.”

You think for a second about what you want to say - the points you want to hit, how you want to word it. 

“I just wanted to make sure you knew,” you start slowly, “that I see and appreciate how patient you’ve been. How understanding.”

Namjoon’s eyes go wide and he actually leans away from you a little, like he wants to look at you better. “What?” he asks hollowly. 

“Seriously,” you insist. “When it comes to everything between us, you’ve been in a shitty position from day one. You never held it against me, never got mad, never made me feel like I wasn’t… worth wanting. You never demanded anything of me - not an explanation, not an answer. You just… stayed by my side and let me figure it out. And I… it’s not lost on me that that’s extremely fucking rare. That’s all.”

Namjoon’s chin is jutting a little, his jaw clenched. He keeps his eyes on the pond and clears his throat. When he speaks, his voice is a little rough.

“Well, uh,” he says, then coughs to clear his throat. “Thanks for saying that. It’s all really… not that big of a deal.”

You lean against him, and he squeezes your shoulder.

“It is,” you whisper. “I know you don’t recognize it… but, it really is.”

–

Back inside, you somehow find yourself in a situation where you are way out of your depth: alone in the kitchen with Mrs. Kim. 

Namjoon told you he’d be right back and went to - you assume - talk to his dad in the other room, and here you are.

You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how to talk to mothers. You don’t know how kitchens work.

Mrs. Kim saves you from yourself by placing a large, yellow onion in your hand. “Will you chop this while I start the –”

You don’t even hear the end of the question over the panicked rush of white noise in your ears. You hold the onion like it might explode in your hand. 

Her back is to you as she pulls out a cutting board from a lower cabinet. When she turns and sees you standing there like you’re holding a grenade, she freezes. 

“You certainly don’t have to if you don’t want to –” she backtracks quickly.

“The thing is,” you say, face flushing, “I don’t… exactly… know how.”

The sigh of disappointment she lets out is almost comical. You cringe, feeling terrible, when she says, “Aish, no wonder my son likes you - you two are just the same.”

This makes you laugh out loud, and the tension breaks just like that. With a playfully chastising look, she takes the onion back from you, placing it on the cutting board. Then she cuts it in half and shows you how you’re meant to slice it before passing you the knife. 

She watches carefully as you slowly and clumsily try to mirror her movements with the blade. And even though you’re slow and clumsy, she still smiles at you and says, “Very good.”

“I never really had the chance to learn,” you try to explain, your eyes on what you’re doing. “My, um, my parents passed away when I was really young. And my grandmother… she didn’t ask me to help, she didn’t try to teach me. I think because… she wanted to let me be just a kid in as many ways as I still could. But, yknow. Now I’m an adult who can’t cook.”

You’re not sure what reaction you expect from her, but all she does is hum quietly, an affirming, understanding listening noise, and lean just a little closer over your shoulder to watch the knife. 

You’re about to say something else - anything, just to move on from the moment - when she speaks. 

“His last girlfriend was a genius in the kitchen.” She cocks her head to the side sharply, almost as if flicking away an annoying bug. “But she certainly had her failings outside of it.”

Elyse. You’re suddenly picturing her here, at this counter, making her way effortlessly around the kitchen.

Mrs. Kim moves beside you, turning the sink on and grabbing a colander to wash some more vegetables. You keep working slowly on the onion, keeping your eyes on your fingers.

She looks sideways at you as she rinses whatever she’s holding. “All I’m saying is, sometimes change is good. And it’s never too late to learn,” she tells you.

Change. Like Namjoon letting go of his past. Like you letting go of yours. 

“He told me you and Mr. Kim didn’t like her,” you admit, pushing the onion to the side and setting down the knife, ready for new instructions.

Mrs. Kim shakes her head, exasperated. “What did he say that to you for? No wonder you’re nervous. For such a smart boy, he just has no sense.”

You smile and hurry to defend him. “I think he just wanted me to be prepared.”

 “Prepared for what?” she grouses. “We liked her fine until she broke his heart. We’ll like you that long, too.”

“I don’t think I ever could,” you say quietly. 

Next to you, she softens. She touches your hand for just a second in a gesture that feels somehow like gratitude, and then removes it to plop whatever she just washed onto your cutting board. 

“Chop,” she instructs. She watches, reaching over once to adjust your hold on the knife, then nodding in satisfaction when you carry on correctly. Her eyes on your hands, she asks, “So your grandmother raised you? Where did you grow up?”

You tell her - about your hometown, about your Grandmother’s strict upbringing and how it led into Lin’s barely-there parenting. She listens as she works, eventually moving over to the stove and starting the base of the sauce while you finish peeling and chopping the pile she’s left for you to handle. 

“So, your aunt is working for Christmas?” she asks, stirring as you gently add the onion to the sauce when prompted.

“Yes, and she works nights and sleeps days,” you explain. “So I decided to just stay home.”

“You wouldn’t have seen her at all?” she asks, no bite or judgment to the question. Just asking. “Even Christmas Eve, or the day after?”

You think about this. In all honesty, you would have been home and awake with Lin for at least some of break. But you two didn’t really spend time together, never had. Plus it would have meant asking Taehyung for a ride, since he brought you to campus back in late August, and he isn’t currently speaking to you. 

“Maybe in passing,” you say, which isn’t entirely true. But suddenly, you feel weirdly guilty - like you’ve done something wrong to Lin by leaving her alone for the holiday. 

“That’s a shame,” she says. “Here, come stir this.”

As you finish the meal together, she asks you more questions - mostly about school and your major. It’s nice - calming. You feel like this is a place you could get used to.

“I think it’s good for him to have found another writer,” she muses. “Sometimes our Namjoon just has his head in the clouds. It’ll be nice for him to have someone who… understands.”

“Yeah,” you say, continuing to stir, as directed. “That’s nice for me, too.”

<- Prev || Next ->

what are we thinking?! am i in less trouble or more compared to last chapter? lol

[azgfggf]

SPOILERS 4 TRIGUN/STAMP/MAX (Basically all Trigun content)

I have so many thoughts on Trigun and all of them are sad because as I see it, Trigun is fundamentally a tragedy, a little through Vash’s own doing.

It’s a noble pursuit to go through a ruined world and try to make it good, but I think the manga, show, and reboot go in too much in his martyr complex for it to be fully believable? Like he started that way for sure, but in all three I think it’s obvious to the audience that he can’t stop. He’s dug himself into a hole of needing to save all these people, because he has nothing else left. The ending of Trimax made me so sad because it’s essentially the beginning of the story all over again. Vash is hunted, Vash is running, and in the span of his lifetime everyone who knows him will be dead. It might even be worse in the anime, because now he has to work to rehabilitate his brother (unstoppable force and immovable object), sacrificing a chance at a relationship with Meryl in continuing his quest for peace at the cost of himself.

One of the most poignant thing about this is Rem’s whole “Ticket to the Future” thing. Lowkey I think Vash misunderstood it, or in some way messed it up. I think, at least on some level, that the ticket to the future was meant for him, specifically in him living his own life post-seeds. But because Vash has already convinced himself the future of others matters more, he’s deliberately ignoring Rems parting wisdom not to blame himself for what Knives did. I love Trigun so much and it’s always near the top of my anime list, but the endings (both manga and anime) just fuck me up because it’s not really an ending at all, just a hitch in the cycle of Vash forgiving everyone but himself. And the one character who he loved more than anyone else, who was the closest to convincing Vash to be a little bit selfish and take care of himself for once, died fighting alongside him. To me, this whole story is just Vash being driven by guilt unable to see the reasoning behind Rem’s words. I don’t know what the endings are supposed to mean, but because of them I’ve always read Trigun as this sort of Sci-fi tragedy where one man bears the sins of an entire world until he dies or they do.

There’s also an interesting parallel between Knives and Vash, both opposite in their ideals but equally determined to get them. Knives only relinquishes when he’s dying, and then Vash continues. He’s clearly tired, as seen with Erik’s, but in a super ironic twist of fate it’s WolfWood who brings him back, and that’s kind of just the nail in the coffin for Vash’s whole journey. He tried to leave, and it failed. WolfWood needed him, and he failed. This, I think, is Vash’s point of no return. He can’t stop, because he’s personally destroyed any way to. He’s built up this idealized Rem that needs him to do this. He’s built up some kind of debt to WolfWood that needs him to do this. He’s built up this persona that needs him to do this. He’s sacrificed himself, his sanity, his friends, and everything else in a self imposed quest for peace that will never end because as soon as it does his entire reason for being is shattered (See episode 25). This post means nothing I just think about these silly men way too much. Please give me more fix it fics. Please. Please.

God I hope TriStamp does the endings justice.

[mikuni14]

How funny it is that throughout the entire series I didn't share or sometimes even understand the dislike of many viewers towards Phee and Jin, only to hate them literally in the last minutes of the finale 😁

I liked Phee and Jin's dynamic from the beginning and I liked this relationship more than PheeNon's. Phee, both in the present and in flashbacks, was a great character for me, very much my style, and I also had a lot of sympathy for Jin. I was also convinced that Phee was on his path of revenge/searching for answers, and that Jin didn't upload the video.

I was so confident in my opinions that even when Phee spilled the beans to Jin, I was convinced that he wasn't that stupid and mean and that it was all part of some bigger plan. Likewise, until the end I was convinced that Jin was wrong and he was not the one who leaked this video, also based on Fluke's words (who said to Tee for some reason that he "knows everything, INCLUDING the video").

So when the finale brought confirmation that yes, Phee was a fucking snitch, that he sided with his "friends", and that yes, Jin actually released the video like an absolute piece of shit, all my sympathy evaporated in the blink of an eye. Poof! 🥳

I understand Phee's concerns and his refusal to participate in Tan's plan, but that's not the problem, it's HOW he did it. Phee isn't trying to protect the group AND TAN, who is also his friend ffs! NO! Phee is constantly confrontational, aggressive, escalating violence, doing everything against Tan, treating him like HIS worst enemy. He openly accuses Tan when everyone is agitated and someone has a gun, provoking Tan (Tan, who according to him is a dangerous murderer!) without thinking about what he might do. Phee accuses him, Tan takes control and manages the situation so that Tee confesses what really happened with Non, so , you know, a big deal right? That's what it was all about, right? And what does Phee do? He ends the scene by pointing his gun at Tan. When Tan says "you wanted to know the truth about Non, now you know" how does Phee react? He punches Tan. I'm absolutely surprised and appalled that after 3 years of friendship with Tan, watching the nightmare that is his life, saving him, when it comes to choosing, Phee comes so easily to choose "friends", without offering Tan a single bit of kindness, a kind word, extended hand. As if their friendship, their cause, their shared past, Non, didn't exist, didn't matter.

THE MORE BAD HE FINDS ABOUT THE BOYS, THE MORE HE HELPS THEM AND THE MORE HE IS ON THEIR SIDE. This is something I just cannot understand at all! In addition, Phee shot Tan even though he had a camera stand right next to the gun, used successfully many times in the series! 😆 He could have hit Tan unconscious, he didn't have to kill him!! And, what really pisses me off, he shot Tan in defense of Tee!!! Then he helped Tee and Jin, people who ruined and led to Non's death with their choices and actions. I don't know how much more you can insult his memory!

The ending itself is the final nail in the coffin for Phee and Jin's reputation in my house 😎 As I understand it, the final scenes are their hallucinations. And these hallucinations are nice and normal, they have a nice life, they fulfill their dreams, they have a career, they go to college - everything that Non and Tan don't have. In their hallucination there is no room for reflection, for regret, or for any discomfort. They are selfish even in hallucinations that show their real feelings. They still have the nerve to analyze Tee, the only one on whom the events of this house left any impact. I'm not surprised that Non himself appeared in Phee's hallucination, since Phee didn't find a place for him 😏

Their hallucinations, the earlier ones, are also interesting. As much as I loved Jin's hallucinations, it's telling that even in his guilt, Jin still made everything about himself. HE is the victim in his visions 🤷‍♀️ In the same way, Phee wakes up from his visions because it is he who decides which Non is real and which is not. Which means that Jin, instead of feeling bad for what he did to Non, feels bad for imagining "what if it were me." And Phee's guilt is not deep enough to allow Non to dominate his visions, as it happened with Tee, for example.

So in the end, I'm sad to say that as someone who really liked Phee and Jin, that after the finale - fuck them 😈

[constelationprize]

Something that really took me out in the book was the thing about Zane and Colleen. How Jean described him reaching out to touch her hair when her back was turned and bringing back his hand at the last second. Their little deal with Jean to keep him safe if he kept their secret. How Zane did a horrible thing out of petty revenge and, in punishment for it, was forced to do something even worse, and it ruined him. How they were all each other had in the Nest for years and didn't talk for months before Colleen died. He was signed for a professional team the day of the game that put the last nail in the coffin of their futures. How by all accounts he's just a shell of a man now.

I feel like it's very easy to empathize with Neil and Jean and Kevin as victims of the Nest. It's very easy to hate Grayson and Riko for what they did. Those are, I think, opposite ends of the spectrum of what the Nest did to people. But the portrayal of Zane, a character we were already primed to dislike before we even found out about how he betrayed Jean, was what really stood out to me as a way to show that in the end, despite what they might tell you, the Ravens are really just human. They had the capacity to be good people, and then they had it beaten out of them. The Nest just ate them up and spit them back out, took kids and turned them into monsters. No one knew and no one helped and now it's far too late for most of them.

I think I need to lie down.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

hi again, my queen <3 wanted to come before you + beg for some broken neck reader + rafe again. This time, her getting the brace off + having atrophied muscles, maybe some PT appointments, all the things. Rafe is cuddly and sweet but the banter shines through. I love the little universe you created with them + it has brought me tons of comfort over the last few weeks as I've healed from my accident + death with chronic illness. I love you!

Yes bestie, here's a bunch of mini blurbs for you and your ailments. Much love sent to you, we're in the same boat❤️ This is like a few blurbs put together into moments that Rafe and the reader shared :)

"Okay so you might feel some muscle weakness and some nausea. It's perfectly normal to feel woozy after having a brace on for this long." The doctor maintains supportive eye contact with me, reaching out to slip her hand into mine as Rafe stands over me, a firm hand on my shoulder. "I just need you to hold you handsome man's hand and take a breath." She smiles and I try my best to crane my neck to look back up at Rafe and he gives me a soft smile, running a hand over the top of my head.

"This is for the best, sweetheart." He whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead, putting the last nail of the coffin of my anxiety and I take a deep breath, looking to the doctor with a look of readiness. "Remember to keep breathing."

"I'm breathing, dammit." I chuckle, taking a few dramatic, exasperated breaths.

"Okay, on three." The doctor says, hands already pulling at the velcro on my brace, giving it a gentle tug for good measure.

I give her a nod, biting my tongue to prevent saying how much I desperately want to just stop and live in the brace forever instead of feeling how I would feel without it. It's given me a sense of balance, a sense of comfort though completely ruining my muscles and strength.

The doctor slowly but surely unstraps the brace, giving me a moment to catch my breath that seems to be running from my lungs before pulling the brace completely away from my neck, leaving me feel like a bobblehead.

"How do you feel?" The doctor asks but it takes a second for me to register her question when all I feel is my head, ten times heavier than it was before.

"Naked, sore." The two of them chuckle at my analogy but it's the closer thing I can think of to describe how it feels to not have anything holding my head up after such a traumatic injury.

"That's perfectly normal. Try to move your neck around a bit, not too much though." The doctor keeps a hand next to my head, brushing against my cheek as I roll my head around the axis of my neck. "How does it feel?"

"Really weak. Weaker than I thought." I huff, taking a deep breath as my head spins and my eyes shut out of pure instinct.

"You feelin' okay? You look green?" Rafe asks, kneeling down beside me with a hand on my thigh, pulling my gaze from behind my eyelids to his handsome face and I feel myself getting more and more nauseous.

"Vertigo like symptoms are common after getting a brace off." The doctor sits down beside me, placing a hand on my back, rubbing it gently and I take the time to lean forward, resting my heavy head in my hands. "Take it easy, rest, do what you can."

"She's in good hands, doc." Rafe promises, leaning up to press a kiss to my cheek.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"It's too much." I mutter, rolling my neck calculatedly but it hurts too bad, my eyes squeezing shut, frustrated from the pain.

"Okay, then lets take a break." Rafe offers, looking to the physical therapist with frantic eyes. I lean into the hand that's resting on my shoulder, looking up at my PT with tired eyes.

"I don't want to take a break, I want to feel better." I huff, frustrated tears filling my eyes and Rafe kneels down beside me, hand resting on my thigh.

"Hey." Rafe whispers, getting my attention with a gentle hand on my cheek. "Can we get a second alone?"

"Sure, let me know when you're ready to get back on it or if you wanna be done for the day." The PT reaches out to pat my shoulder soothingly, giving me a sad smile before she steps out, leaving Rafe and I alone.

"What's got you so freaked?" He asks, rubbing my cheekbone with a gentle look in his eyes, his small comforting smile soothing some of my anxiety that's rumbling in my belly.

"I just feel weak and I'm frustrated. I just want to feel better." Rafe takes me into his arms the minute that the tears come spilling from my eyes and I tuck my face into the crook of his neck, finger fisting the material of his soft polo shirt.

"And you will, you're doing so much already." He whispers, rubbing my back soothingly. "You need to give yourself time. You're still healing." His words are true and I hear them-I believe them- but there's only so long that someone can give everything they have and not get anything in return.

"I know, I just-"

"What do you want to do? Be done or keep going." He asks and I pause, biting at my lip as the thought of going home and cuddling with Rafe in bed pops into my mind but I know it's not the right thing to do.

"Keep going." Rafe gives me a bright, proud smile with a firm nod, leaning up to kiss me firmly and I can feel the pride radiating from him, acknowledging my strength but also my frustration.

"Atta girl."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Do you need anything?" Rafe asks from the door, shifting awkwardly from his weight between feet and I prop myself up on my elbows, patting the bed.

"You." I call out but he continues to speak right through my request.

"Like a water or anything? Food?"

"You!" I laugh, finally grabbing his attention and he smiles softly, almost embarrassingly so, and I chuckle, loving the way he's on the bed almost immediately.

"That's it?" He asks with a surprised smile, leaning back into the bed beside me and I do the same, instead laying myself almost down on him completely as his hand comes up to massage my neck gently, knowing how much I've been struggling with it still. "That's easy enough."

"You're a good nurse." I pat his chest before slipping my hand beneath his shirt to rest on his bare chest, loving the way his skin feels beneath mine.

"You're kind of an easy patient." He teases, looking down at me with a wink and I gasp, feigning offense.

"Kind of?"

"You bitch a lot." He chuckles, patting my back but I sit up, looking at him with wide eyes, surprised that he would joke about this after weeks of being worried that I was too much on him and I've been wondering if he's needed a break- worried that he's been overworking himself on my behalf.

"Rafe Cameron!" I hiss, reaching out to slap his chest but he scoffs, giving me a simple shrug.

"What? I'm honest!"

"For that, you should go buy me food." I huff and he looks at me with wide eyes, almost asking me 'are you serious right now?' but when I give him a stern nod, he just scoffs and rolls off of the bed dramatically.

"Food- where do you expect me to get food an nearly midnight?" He asks, checking his phone and I giggle, tapping my finger on my chin as I think dramatically, forcing a loud groan from Rafe as if he actually thinks that I'm going to want to be without him any longer than I have to be.

"I don't know Nurse Rafe but you're gonna learn I can be way more bitchy if I'm actually trying." I threaten with a sweet smile and his face pales.

"Fine, I'll get you something from the kitchen." He chuckles, taking my hand in his and he presses a fat kiss to the back of my hand. "I love you."

[infisonicosm-moved]

It's been 18/19 days since I last posted(who's counting tho) and while I'm positive this post will receive a big majority of you rolling your eyes, I hope this will stick with the few that read it all and listen to what I have to say.

I usually put my long winded posts under a read more, but I'm gonna subject all of you to actually see this and if you don't like it, that's fine, it's the last post I'll be making on here anyways.

I'm stepping away from the GVF fandom. I'm not looking for sympathy or anyone to beg me to stay, this is something I've been thinking on for a while now since the last round of nasty anons I got. And trust, I'm aware I don't need to announce my departure. I could leave silently like others have. But, we all know I don't work like that.

After what I saw on Twitter today, it was the nail in the coffin for me that I'm done here. I know what some of you are thinking 'Don't let a few bad people ruin the fun for you!' but the sad fact of the matter is it has. This fandom isn't fun. It's full of mean spirited people who would rather trash somebody who just passed away bc she listened to an artist they don't like, than be there to show the slightest bit of compassion for the people mourning.

Have y'all no home training? What tragic event happened in y'alls lives to make you so HATEFUL? Does it not get exhausting?

Y'all need to understand that your words/actions have consequences. They might not directly effect you but they WILL effect others. THAT'S why so many people don't last a year in this fandom. THAT'S why people are even SCARED to interact in this fandom. You tone deaf, cold-hearted assholes ruined this space and this band for so many people. And I've decided that if you guys can't even be respectful of someone's passing then it's not a space I want to be associated with. I've been pretty open about my grief and it's not something I take lightly.

I'm so disappointed and let down. All I wanted was to make friends and soul bond with people over music. That's literally impossible though here bc if it's not a pissing contest then it's not worth it to MOST of you.

I'm tired of fighting to prove my worth as a friend, and a fan of this band. I'm tired of wondering what innocent thing I will say that might piss some chronically online soul off. This isn't a fun hobby anymore. I have anxiety when I get on here now and that's not right. I shouldn't be nervous to be around people who love the same band as me.

Sorry to bring down the mood on the dash, there's was never a right time to post this and I've accepted I'll never make anyone happy on here as it stands lmaoooo.

Hope you all thrive and have successful lives. I'll still be around and supporting GVF. Just not active in the fandom. If you need me, you know where to find me.

[remarcely]

Undeath In The Family- Remarcely AO3 [Batman Fanfic]

As his nails tore through wood and dirt, Jason pinched his eyes shut and held his breath. The fact alone he had breath to hold was remarkable and likely the only thing fuelling his frenzied escape from his own coffin. By the time worms and mud broke away and he finally felt air hit his face, he gasped for breath and heaved himself over to roll onto the grass. Cradling his hands, marred and ruined, against his chest, he curled up on his side and heaved with each inhale. His eyes stayed shut, screwed up tight as he struggled through waves of dizziness.

He laid amongst the headstones for a while, shaking, as tears broke clean paths down his dirt-covered face. Jason attempted to shout, scream, but the words died in his throat and came out as groans of pain or stringed together sounds- utter nonsense. It was useless, there was no one around to hear him anyway, and that left him with one last choice; crawl.

At first he tried his hands- purely out of instinct- and let out a ragged cry at the pain. He didn’t have time to waste, however, and instead made use of his wrists. He reached out as far as he could and dragged himself forward, each movement and jostle of bones leaving him in absolute agony. Even upon the padded floor of the coffin, he had been screaming out from his broken bones. How morbid that his hands merely matched the rest of his fucked-up body.

Not one to be deterred so easily, he reached again. And again, and again, and again. His hands bumped into cold marble, taller grass, wilted remains of flowers, and eventually hard stone beneath him. Uneven and leading in a long stretch ahead of him. A pathway.

Continuing to crawl, he nudged his face against his sleeve and built up the courage to open his eyes. It was night and nearing morning. A heavy mist had settled down upon the graveyard and the lights of Gotham far ahead were blurred in the haze. His gaze wandered to the pathway, the next slab ahead, and then down to bloody skin-

He shut his eyes.

After a while, he found a use for the pain. Not only was it keeping him moving, but it was far stronger than any pinch and constantly reminded Jason that he was alive. Barely, screaming and just about hanging on, but alive nonetheless.

When he paused in his journey, panting and forehead pressed against the ground beneath, he did not hear the distant whistle. Nor the mumbled cursed, harried footsteps, and with his eyes shut so firmly the light of a torch also went unnoticed.

He slumped to the ground at a stranger’s feet as trembling fingers dialled 911.

-

In terms of comfort, had his entire body not been crushed, Jason would have taken the plush lining on his coffin over the scratchy sheets of a hospital bed. He might have said so to one of the nurses hovering by him, it’d probably make them laugh, but at most it’d drag out as a pathetic moan and at best it’d up the dosage of whatever drugs they had him on. Maybe the latter wouldn’t be so bad, the feeling in his legs was beginning to fight back.

The nurse on shift that night, keeping the watch over John Doe while the police did their work, was chatty. From the second he entered the room and started checking Jason over, he had talked non-stop about himself, or the floors gossip (the old lady down the hall was a riot apparently), whatever he could to fill the dead air.

Jason wasn’t entirely awake for it, slipping in and out. With so much of his body either bandaged, splinted, or mottled with bruises, perhaps that was a blessing. Besides, the guy just reminded him of Dick, which made him think of Alfred, and that could only lead to-

“Hm? Did-did you say something there, little guy?” The nurse crouched slightly by the upper half of the bad, so sure he’d heard the patient speak. Poor kid, he must have been dreaming, hopefully something peaceful “Don’t get shy on me now, I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listen-”

“Bruce.”

-

When the phone rang out in Wayne Manor, the officer on the other end knew it’d be a long shot. At two in the morning, any sane person would be fast asleep.

Click.

“Hello? Bruce Wayne speaking.”

Sat at the bat-computer, fresh coffee steaming in his mug, Bruce paused the CCTV footage up on the big screen and swiped his thumb across his phone screen to pick up the call.

“Oh, uh, Mr Wayne. Sorry, I didn’t think anyone would- never mind. My name is Officer Riley, I do apologise for calling you so late and all, but there was… well. There has seemed to be an incident concerning the- uh- grave of your son, Jason Todd.”

He stayed perfectly still, as frozen in time as the video he’d been scouring for clues, and took a deep breath “Excuse me, my sons grave? Has it been damaged?” Not by accident, the police would hardly be called in for something so simple, and while a graffitied child’s headstone was horrific it would have been left for the mornings concern.

“That’s a um, a good question, sir. The groundskeeper found someone, a kid- well, frankly beat to all hell if you’ll pardon my language, in the cemetery, and in our investigation, we found he originated from… uh. Something broke out of the grave, sir, and the hospital has just confirmed the ID of Jason Todd from our John Doe.”

-

Not bothering to find anything more than his wallet and keys, Bruce all-but tore the front door off its hinges as he made straight for the closest car in the drive. He white-knuckled the steering wheel, teetering on the edge of the speed-limit, and barked out for the cars system to dial Dicks phone number. He did not for one second tear his eyes away from the road- barely lit by the dimmed street lights- as it rung.

After two more tries, someone answered.

“Bruce? Come on, it’s like-”

“Gotham General Hospital, second floor, room twelve. Get there. Now.”

Dick didn’t argue, he knew that tone all too well and it was never brought out for anything less than an emergency “I’m grabbing my coat now, is it Tim?”

“No, I’ll tell you when you get there.”

“B, you can’t just leave me with-”

He cut him off, the hospital visible and only moments away “I will not risk you getting into an accident, Dick, just get here and I will debrief you when you do.”

Tearing into the car park, he burst from the car and locked it behind him with the key fob, if not purely out of habit. Showing his ID to the police officers waiting at the front desk, he was guided into the elevator, down hallways and eventually they came to a stop outside a unassuming door, just like any other in the wing yet somehow a hundred times more taunting.

“His bloodwork came back, we got the boys to rush it through, and we’re pretty certain it’s him but anything you can give us would help.” The woman to his left spoke softly and pushed the door open.

Shrouded in tubes and bandages was a boy, dark haired and on the short side for his age- he always had been. Should his eyes have been open, Bruce had not a single doubt in his mind they would have been blue.

A gentle hand on his shoulder jolted Bruce back into the present, hesitantly taking a step across the threshold “Behind his left ear, Jason had a small mole.” He weakly gestured to his own ear, a shaky finger pointing to the area he was describing.

The doctor lightly tilted the kids head to the side, not too much in fear of jostling any of his injuries, and bent down to peer at the patch of skin. He reached for a wipe, the packet sat upon the table next to him, and dabbed away the left-over dirt clinging on. His eyes widened and he looked up at the officers, nodding.

“It’s there.”

-

Dick found Bruce sat, head in his hands, on a plastic chair in a hallway on the second floor. He looked like shit, to put it likely, with eye bags so heavy it was a wonder he hadn’t dropped to the ground from the weight. At the sound of approaching footsteps, echoing down the corridor, he looked up and stood.

Before Dick had the chance to even ask what was going on, he was pulled into a tight hug. His hands awkwardly lifted to pat Bruce on the back “What’s going on, Bruce?”

The man pulled away, though still kept Dick close, and sighed with a shaky smile “It’s Jason. He’s alive.”

“What?” Dick whispered, eyes wide in confusion “Dad, no. Jason died.”

“I-” Bruce huffed out an exhausted chuckle under his breath, bordering on hysterical, and tugged Dick towards a door “I know, but somehow he’s back.”

Walking in first, Dick was close to stumbling back into the hall at the sight of a hauntingly familiar face covered with an oxygen mask. They were alarmingly pale, mostly swaddled in bandages and casts, but there was no mistaking it. It was Jason and nothing short of a miracle at that.

“I don’t- I don’t understand.”

Bruce pulled him closer to his side, squeezing an arm around his shoulders “I got a call, the keeper at the cemetery found someone collapsed on the ground. The police followed the trail and it went back to a grave with the earth pushed up.”

“Is he… like Grundy?”

“No, chum.” He shook his head “They’ve checked him over here, apart from the injuries and lack of oxygen, he’s doing alright. It’s a matter of waiting for him to wake up.”

On unsteady legs, Dick approached the bed. Down on the blanket was a small hand, bandaged with dirt under the nails. He crouched down, holding that hand in both of his, tremors shaking the both of them, so scared of hurting his little brother. His fingers brushed further down the wrist and felt a slow but steady pulse.

-

By the time Tim dragged himself out of bed and made it downstairs, the phone had already rung once and been answered by Alfred. The young robin did not find the butler making breakfast as he would any other morning, in fact the kitchen was empty with kettle untouched. With a piece of bread (untoasted) in his mouth, Tim investigated the house to find himself mostly alone.

He was wandering about, peeking through doors, when Alfred found him. The butler had shockingly just exited Jasons old room, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, and was wiping at his reddened eyes.

“Oh, Master Timothy, I do apologise it seems I forgot to prepare you a proper breakfast.” Alfred fondly ruffled the kid’s hair.

“What’s happening Alfie? Where’s Bruce?”

Wiping the crumbs from Tims sweater, Alfred kneeled down to face him properly “Master Bruce had a call last night, to the hospital. Both him and Master Dick are there now.”

Tim looked from the shut door over the man’s shoulder to the zipped up bag “This has something to do with Jason.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, you’re quite the detective,” Alfred weakly smiled “They found a body that has been identified as young Master Jason.”

His jaw dropped “But… Are they certain?”

“Very, Master Bruce sent further evidence from the boy to the cave for testing. Heavens knows how, but it seems we have been given a miracle, my boy.”

[midnightbrightside]

Look here’s part of my interpretation of Krisnix

Particularly Phoenix’s feelings towards towards him

My headcanon is the timeline goes a bit like this

Year 1: I don’t know how I got disbarred but Kris is the only one who believes in me so I like him, I’m gonna cling to them for support

Year 2: Ok Kris is looking kind of sus but I’m just gonna ignore that since Edgeworth still hasn’t had time to visit me. Sure there’s something else I’m missing

Year 3: Ok the signs are pointing to Kris but if I just zeno my thinking some other factors/excuses will materialize

Year 4: ok no all the signs are saying he did it out of spite but if I just huff enough copium the facts will change and the only person who’s been able to support me in person and not through time zone screwed phone calls and e-mails won’t be the one who ruined my life

Year 5: Ok so the facts haven’t changed and he’s an asshole but I’ll fix him like I fixed Edgeworth. He says he cares about me so it must be true (after all wanting something to be true really badly makes it true right?) I’ll fix him!

Year 6-7: ok being around him is very weird and I’m upset he disbarred me but I need to figure out what his tragic background is so I can fix him, then I can reform the court system and he can be like Edgeworth except he doesn’t leave me for Europe 😤

*Kris commits murder*

Phoenix: … so I guess I can’t fix him :/

I genuinely think for a least a while Nick had to have some kind of fix it mindset with him

I mean Edgybaby was said to have forged evidence and Nick didn’t really care. I really think murder was the final nail in the coffin

Thoughts? Is this a valid timeline? I know some people like it where Nick realizes what happened immediately and just hated Kris internally all 7 years but to me that’s boring

I have even more complicated thought of Kris’ thoughts of Nick so look out

this is so real and also mostly how i see phoenix' s thoight process tbh!! especially the years of ignoring red flags only to then try and "fix him", he'll drag out the denial as long as possible. besides hes dealt w corrupt guys before, he was willing to give edgeworth for a lot, and its very possible he didnt know kristoph was capable of murder until turnabout trump.

and fuck how DEVASTATING must that be? to spend years knowing someone intimately and being willing to overlook all of the signs because the support and companionship they offer is more reliable and consistent than anything youve had before? only to end up feeling like you dont know them at all (might be working on a little drawing about that atm actually 👁👁 work is hell tho and slowing me down so much)

[aurorawritestoescape]

Here we are, spilling my thoughts as always🫂🥰

The Moodboard looks beautiful 🤩

“The servants leave immediately, knowing well that General Marcus Acacius does not allow anyone to see what he does to his women.” Would he perhaps allow lil ol’ me to watch, I can be quite and won’t interrupt, I’d be having the best time of my life watching the throuple get it on 🥵🤭

“Your heart is fluttering and you squirm against Lucilla’s shoulder, and always attentive to your mood, the woman envelops you in her arms tighter, sharing more of her warmth with you, while nothing but thin nightgowns separate your bodies.” I need to be enveloped by a woman as well, please 🙏🏻 There’s no greater comfort than this ahhhhh 🥰🫂

“The sight of him takes your breath away.” Same if I would see that man naked I’d be so stunned breathing would not be an option anymore 🤯😍

“I played with her during the washing. She must come as much as possible for the seed to stick.” I had to read this line twice before I could move on without screaming. Who will play with me to make the freaking seed stick ????? Helloooooo 🤯😍😍😍

“Give her one more before we start, my love. I shall assist you.” I need the General, yes that’s right, but I need that woman way more!!!! Love the Pedro characters but I’m perhaps even a bigger fan of the woman in such constellations 😵‍💫😵‍💫🥵🥵🥵🥵

“You turn your head to look at Lucilla’s gorgeous face, your eyes full of lust and gratitude and you reach for her to kiss you. She smiles and soon her soft lips are caressing yours, her tongue is licking into your whimpering mouth and you gasp against her lips when her husband latches onto your bare cunt.” Please I need that to happen to me so badly 🤭🤭🤭I read the section 3 times before being able to continue and yes, I know it will only get worse (worse as in your writing will continue to ruin me in the best way possible) 😍😍😍😍

“She gently cups your breast and her fingers twitch your pebbled nipple. You moan as her touch sends a new surge of wetness to your entrance for her husband to lap up.” You know Kate I used to be a girl with normal dreams and normal thoughts but now I’m a whore that wants to get fucked by an ancient Rome couple. 🤩🤤🤤🤤😂

“Will you give me an honor to taste your milk when it’s time, my little rose? I would love your sweet breasts to nourish me, just like your little cunt is nourishing me right now.” This is already the final nail in my coffin and I know there will be more nails to come because I know your writing is so perfect. Fuckkkkkkk me, the Lactation!Kink is not a new discovery for me but certainly heavily appreciated 🤤🤤🤤😍😍😍

“Relax, my precious, open up for him. Let Marcus fill you up with his seed. Sometimes I wish I had a cock too so we both could make you full with cum.” Kate you have officially just attacked me again who will rebuild me, whooooo will take care of the mess you made of me ????? I don’t know why it turns me on so much that she wishes to have a cock too but it does 🥵🥵🥵🥵

“You take a sharp breath at the sight of her beautiful tit and latch onto her puffy nipple.” I’m absolutely feral at this point, Lucilla please find me and put your beautiful tits in my mouth, I swear I need it sooooooooo much 🤤❤️

“Yes, sit on my face. Please,” YES AND AFTERWARDS TAKE A SEAT ON MY FACE AS WELL PLEASEEEEEEEE 🙏🏻❤️

I basically blacked out after this point, them kissing each other while she’s sitting on her face and he’s fuckin her, coming inside, plugging her with his cock. I’m dead 😵 Everything is just too good.

I might also have enjoyed this a lot more because there’s a lot happening in my head and things are being planned for the future, which might include two women and one Pedro character 🤭👀👀👀

I love you so much Kate gosh what a boring unfulfilled life I’d be living without your amazing stories, let’s not think about it.🥲🩷🩷

YAYYYY IM SO HAPPY TO READ YOUR COMMENTS!! Thank you, my little fairy! ❤️🧚‍♀️

Listen, it was such a struggle to write about those three, bc it would make me so horny ahahah I NEED THEM😩🥵 it was a self-indulgent story and I’m so glad that you enjoyed what I enjoy😁

Thank you for the laughs and for being amazing, kind and wonderful YOU! love you lots!!😘💕💕

Destinies Intertwined

[darkfictionjude]

When I saw Imre was into the Indiana Jones thing, I was imagining, amused, about my MC calling him 'my Indy' and things like that related to the character. Only to remember that one of the names suggestions you have was Indiana. And the thing is, I would 100% go for that name for MC, especially given Imre's fondness towards the character. But I just can't bring myself to have MC being named Indiana Cairo Crown. It would be almost like a parody archeologist character. It's too much. Is basically MC parents saying: You are an archeologist, Harry. Except that the name is Indiana.

Like, everyone thinks about Indiana Jones (or the state) when someone says Indiana. So that's strike 1. Then Cairo, also being a geographical name (as is Egypt's current capital), is way too associated to archeology when paired with Indiana. I already think of Ancient Egypt and museums when I hear Cairo, and Indiana doesn't help matters. Then Crown is the third strike, and the nail in the coffin. After all, archeologists do find, sometimes, crowns when they do excavations. Is just so much when it's all together. Like, I laughed when I realized Indiana was a name option because of this. There is nothing wrong with the name, but it made MC such a meme it felt almost disrespectful to me.

On the other hand, a part of me knows Imre would like it. Oh, he would love it. And my original idea would be reversed. Maybe, instead of "my Indy", it would be "mi Indy", but the spirit would be the same.

And now, even though my soul demands me to not do that to MC, a part of me wants to. Because Imre could love it, and if he is happy, then how is it not worth it?

Although, as much as it may amuse him, it could ruin the roleplay, in a way. As I'm sure Imre prefers to be the hero and protagonist figure, given his need for control. And is hard to take the same name your significant other has, especially if you are role-playing as someone else that shares the name.

I thought way too deeply about this, didn't I?

Yes nonnie you thought way too hard about this 😭 I picked Indiana as a name option because it’s pretty, not that common and goes in line with older names that Victor and Prudence name their kids 💀

Now that you mention it maybe I might add some special dialogue for those who choose that name

I don’t know I personally it sounds rather cool to have such an archeologist name 😋 plus it’s 1994 memes the way we use them wasn’t a thing yet in everyday life. Yea Imre would like to be Indiana but there is some nice perverseness in sexually controlling his idol in mc

[sassyshin]

So I found out Gnosis is gonna be in the yellow certs shop in like 5 months?

It was in a twitch chat so I can’t guarantee but it makes sense since it’s close to the sequel of the SilverAsh event right

Honestly I’m not even mad. Gnosis showing up in the yellow cert now would be the nail in the coffin

Can’t believe I ruined my yellow certs over nothing

Do you know what’s even worse? I rolled more today with the rocks I got from beating the event stage AND I GOT ANGELINA AGAIN

Now this might not be the case but she is one of the rated up operators so like… had I throw those at the Executors banner the odds of being him were actually pretty high

But I GOTTA KEEP TRYING TO GET THE SWEATY GYM BRO BECAUSE IM A HOMOSEXUAL

Anyway. I also got Texas so Gods just laughing at me. Are we really sure Broca is rated up idk it’s just terrible

I don’t know whether to even keep rolling because sure the banner is gonna go on for a week but if I get Shining pot there I will kill us both

I probably will because acting wise isn’t on the radar rn but this isn’t fun

But yeah 5 months for Gnosis apparently and I will save my yellow certs almost diligently till then. I would only buy broca if he showed in the Kernel shop

Oh yeah one last thing

I have enough blue certs to buy another Reed pot right now :)

[macaroni-rascal]

I don't have any fashion takes this week except to say that most of the ISU award nominations are a joke and they're enabling some of the worst shit imaginable. To misquote Adam, the skaters' moms must've been on the selection committee because there are some real choices there. The ISU is hell-bent on burying the sport, I have no words.

But what I had to chime in on was the Spanish fuckery and how actually unsurprising it is. I'm of two minds on this - Olivia and accessory did mess up the twizzles and I think scores and decisions should reflect what happens on the day. However, this has Zhulin's vodka-pruned fingerprints all over it and he's taking the only opportunity he has to fuck with IAM from behind the curtain. The younger team has potential but doesn't have the polish Liv has. In other circumstances I'd be all for a federation pushing a younger team that has more long-term potential (*cough* Skate Canada *cough*), but they're literally shooting themselves in the foot here by ruining any chances of them getting two spots (although it's unlikely S/D Part 2: Electric Boogaloo would've done so for Worlds, so who tf knows). Isn't there a wildcard option this year, though? Maybe that'll save them. It's hella interesting that the tech controller here was British and they went by TES, the plot truly is as thick as Zhulin (and yes, I just had to double-tap him, it's what he deserves).

But there's also another part of me that firmly believes that a) nobody should go into a competition expecting that they'll win, and b) this partnership should never have happened (sorry not sorry), and I've questioned MF's decisions around it heavily. After everything she's dealt with with the Spanish fed, did she really not anticipate something like this? Truly the only glue holding this team together was its political potential, and now they don't even have that? I mean, is there a universe where Olivia moves to London and begs Adrian to re-team with her for the next 2 years? I just don't know what the solution is if the fed decides to continue to be petty like this and I don't know how it might affect Tim's citizenship application process - do they have to have achieved certain results? Why didn't he have the decency to also be born in St. Petersburg? Is that what this is about - Asaf needs it more for citizenship purposes? What a clusterfuck yet such par for the course, I'm truly in disbelief that we're reliving the nonsense of the previous quad and a half but not the quality of the skating. Will Montreal retaliate now by burying this team at major events? But at the same time, wouldn't an eye-for-an-eye approach ultimately disadvantage everyone involved? Why fully fund S/D if they're just gonna stab them in the gut? I fucking hate ice dance, I swear to fucking god, I'd be on blood pressure medication if I had to deal with a quarter of this shit at my job. If I was Olivia I would've rage-quit a long time ago and be making bank as a pro, because I don't know how she's dealing with this unless she's developed a humiliation kink by now. Such nonsense.

This message made me laugh out loud--a nigh cackle--several times. The humiliation kink was the funny nail in the hilarious coffin and I nearly fell of my bed. Oh, Fashionista Nonny, how dearly I love you and your messages.