#hope everyone's having an incredible day!

[mothercain]

The problem is that America has beaten down its people for decades and gotten them weak and desperate and now promises a way out, a way to transcend and rise above, through selling out their fellow man. They encourage contempt and hatred as one way ticket to not being included with the masses being death marched to poverty or imprisonment or whatever other bitter end surely awaits the people they’re told are beneath them. An embarrassingly large chunk of white men are just straight up nazis these days as a way to dissociate from the rest of the carnage around them, even if they’re broke and uneducated and from an impoverished background themselves. They’ll vote for and align themselves with anything for a taste of power and control that makes them feel a little less helpless. The same goes for minorities. They’ll punch down if they think it’ll get them somewhere, even if in reality they’re punching sideways. I don’t know what else to say, really. Everybody is so incredibly hateful. We are a loveless, disrespectful nation. We are so spread thin by our government that we would sell each other out in a heartbeat for an ounce of relief. This is what we’ve come to.

It’s not even about Trump at this point. He’s gonna get in office and do whatever he does and it’s gonna be a mess but whatever. This is indicative of deeper problem. This is just the ugly consequence of the already present reality in this country that we all just despise each other. There is no solidarity and there is no love. Trump being in office or not doesn’t change the fact that America is a breeding ground for violent hatred. Trump has given people a shining example of how to give in to the worst parts of your human nature and make it the problem of everyone around them. I don’t even know what we’re supposed to do about that. I don’t know if that’s something we can come back from. And if anything COULD be done about it, Trump certainly wouldn’t do it. Honestly, Kamala probably wouldn’t have either. We are so deeply fucked.

However, I must say, if you voted for Trump, I hope that peace never finds you. Instead, I hope clarity strikes you someday like a clap of lightning and you have to live the rest of your life with the knowledge and guilt of what you’ve done and who you are as a person.

Love yall. Shit is so bleak but the world keeps spinning until it doesn’t, I guess. We can’t count on the government for literally even a shred of progress or hope so just keep up the good fight in your own personal lives. That’s literally the only thing to be done at this point. Stay safe out there. Maybe buy a gun.

[xxacidnekoxx]

I literally created this blog to talk about trauma and the effects and processing and to hold hands with people who have been through it my art is trauma focused. At the beginning I would get so many comments of people saying "hey can you stop talking about your trauma " like "hey hey pokes you can you stop it" like .. seriously .. but now days everyone has just been so warm to me and also sharing experiences more and I feel incredibly hopeful and extremely proud of how far I have come and I'm really glad I didn't stop being myself

[stargirl-russo]

Sailor Song (Alessia Russo x Reader)

Summary: Joining Arsenal WFC was supposed to be the best thing for your footballing career, you were the best female footballer in the world after all. You didn't expect the unexpected longing of a certain blonde that came with it. (Hi! I've never written fan fics before but I was inspired by some I read and thought why not?! i hope you like it, i honestly might delete later or return it to drafts if I can? or even a pt 2??? idk lmk if you want more! enjoy. do I need to add warnings>....suggestive? angst? )

Recalling the exact moment when it happened was difficult to comprehend, maybe because you tried to completely erase the moment from your memory. You felt embarrassed, ashamed, and even a little disgraced with yourself. Why did you have to like another girl, a straight girl, who definitely didn't feel the same?!

Joining Arsenal this season was exactly what both parties wanted - you needed a change in scenery, and they wanted - no needed - a more clinical finisher like yourself. Everyone at the team was especially welcoming, considering your intimidating resume of accolades at such a young age - taking the women's football world by storm. You got on with everyone on the team, especially the Aussies, Kyra, Steph and Caitlin - being Australian yourself. But one particular teammate stood out to you the most, for more reasons than one.

You'd never forget the first day you finally saw and met the Alessia Russo in person, after admiring her from afar for about a year. She was absolutely beautiful, incredibly captivating and alluring. Words couldn't explain how you felt when you saw her at training, or heard her laugh or when she would smile - which was always. The way your heart hammered against your chest, it felt like you couldn't breathe, the butterflies in your stomach erupted like crazy. These feelings, they just felt...right. She made you feel so giddy and happy.

Although the thrill of this girl crush was very exciting, a part of you couldn't help but feel extremely ashamed. You were not supposed to like a teammate, let alone girls. You couldn't help but admire her gorgeous blue eyes, her long lashes, her soft voice, and her long blonde hair as you smiled shyly and shook her perfectly manicured hand, introducing yourself. Her southern british accent made you weak in the knees. "I can't wait to share the pitch with you this season."

You were absolutely certain that no one knew about this infatuation, crush or admiration, or how down bad you were - whatever you wanted to call it - with Alessia Russo. It was just so easy to get along with her, your calm natured and laid-back personalities working well together. Both sharing certain things in common, attending the same college in the US for football at different years, your love for fashion, travelling, and similar music tastes. She was just so sweet, genuine, caring, and just a ray of sunshine - you couldn't get enough. The chemistry you both had was clearly evident on the pitch also, as your styles of play complemented each other perfectly; turning arsenal's season around with each match.

It scared you how you strongly you felt about her, as she probably had no idea about the effect she had on you, and above all, probably didn't feel the same. And now you were going to continue to play alongside her and work with her nearly every day this season. You'd eagerly wait to see your cheerful teammate and greet her happily weekly at training. It was a blessing and a curse, but it was something that kept you going.

Hiding your sexuality was something you had no trouble dealing with initially as you just constantly immersed yourself with the football: whether it was with routine season interviews, the sponsorship photoshoots, the constant training or the glamorous award shows - it kept you busy, a distraction which led to you further cementing your place as the best young women's footballer in the world. It's not anything anyone really expected of you anyway, to like girls. Besides, you never spoke about personal matters to the media, so no one really assumed anything at first. Which was a plus.

You'd constantly make excuses to avoid going out with friends away from football, who wanted to enjoy a night on the town, bragging about the boys they'd make out with at clubs, or the crushes they had on them. Not that you could relate though, but a part of you wished you could feel that sense of normalcy. To fit in, to relate. No one had no idea what you were going through or how you felt. It got harder to find excuses to deny random set ups with guys. Your feelings for Alessia were actually driving you to insanity, you were most likely going through an identity crisis - but you were still in denial.

However, the longer you concealed your true feelings and the harder you tried to deny it, you found it harder each and every day hiding how you felt about the certain blonde. It became more difficult to suppress your feelings, you wanted to talk to someone, - anyone - but you were afraid with how they would react if they found out. Besides you weren't going to embarrass yourself if she didn't even feel the same, what would be the point of coming out anyway right?!

But maybe you should've controlled yourself. You should have ignored her, distanced yourself even. It was fine though, you were just acknowledging that fact she was really gorgeous, and you weren't crushing on her - or so you told yourself. But the not-so-subtle glances at her during the training sessions said otherwise.

The glancing became constant, admiring her whenever she'd move with or without the ball or take a drink of water during break. You just couldn't help but admire her longingly. Thinking of believable excuses when being called out by the outspoken Katie McCabe became more difficult to articulate. You were certain Alessia was oblivious to this, and she was - for the time being.

It was supposed to be a post game interview focusing on the team's accomplishments this current season, given the difficulties the team faced at the beginning of the year. You expected to answer questions about your valuable contributions to the match and the squad, not some irrelevant, personal, stupid, phased, feelings that had nothing to do with football.

The lights were brighter than usual in the media room, you were riding a high after your incredible individual and team's performance. You couldn't stop smiling. Sitting in the media room alongside your captain Kim Little, you felt proud and finally content with yourself. You felt as if you were finally contributing to a team, a team that was winning. A distraction for the time being.

That is, until the question was asked.

You will never forget the way your stomach dropped at the question, the silence in the media room, the smirk on the reporters' face. He knew he struck a nerve as the colour drained from your face, you were no longer smiling. You're not sure why the question was asked or what value it had to the match you had just played, or above all - why this reporter was permitted into the the media room anyway asking such inconceivable questions.

You shook your head awaking from the absolute shock and audacity of the reporter. There is no way this is really happening right now. You were media trained - you got this. Totally.

'Could you please repeat the question?' You asked politely into the mic, besides the fact that your was voice now quiet and shaky as you squirmed in your seat, refusing to look at the reporter. He noticed your uneasy reaction, and pressed on, knowing there is more to what your letting on.

"Can you address the rumours within the women's football community that you currently have romantic feelings for your teammate, Alessia Russo?"

"What?! That's ridiculous. Next question."

Maybe you responded to that too quickly, way too quickly for it not to be suspicious as you dismissed him. To your knowledge, and last time you checked, you hadn't come out, you hadn't revealed how you felt about her to anyone - especially not Alessia, and you were certain someone as beautiful as her was taken - surely.....right?

Your throat was going to constrict, no doubt, your breathing becoming heavier and faster, your ears turning a bright red and your leg begins to bounce. Your eyes dart around the room. "How is this football related?" your captain Kim interjects, sensing your uncomfortable state as you fidget on the spot and find it hard to remain composed. She herself looks confused.

Both your heart and mind race. Who told them? How do they know? Where did they even think of something like that? They can't know. Does Alessia know?

You were widely aware that this post-game press conference was currently live. This didn't make the situation better. "Is there really nothing going on? You seem pretty flustered. Besides, you didn't deny it did you?" He smirked, a chorus of chuckles emerging from around the room.

"Stop instigating." The words pour out of your mouth defensively before you can stop them, let alone even comprehend what is going on. You can hear your heart beat in your ears.

"I'm not instigating anything, just trying to get the truth out of you. Why don't you start being honest? Show the world who you really are."

Your body shakes with frustration and panic, you can't do this anymore. You rush out of the media room, holding back tears of frustration. This is absolutely ridiculous you think to yourself, barging open the door of the locker-room, ignoring the looks from your teammates.

Silence fills the room, you look up at the television, seeing Kim still in the media room - the broadcast was indeed live. Shit. Alessia, along with everyone else definitely saw it. Shit. You freeze up.

Steph, your teammate turns to you "Hey, are you okay?" You refuse to say anything - afraid your voice might crack, further revealing your vulnerability. You refuse to make eye contact with anyone, especially Alessia. Steph senses the inner turmoil your enduring, and gestures everyone out of the locker-room.

You sit there with your head in your hands, as tears threaten to fall. You didn't reveal much in the post-match interview, so everything is fine right? But maybe thats the problem. You didn't deny anything technically - further exposing and embarrassing yourself and probably Alessia. You fail to notice she's still in the locker-room.

You look up slowly, locking eyes. Her ocean blue eyes bore into yours, a glimpse of concern and curiosity. "Can we talk?" She questions softly. Shit

"No thank you, I'd rather not." You say stubbornly, packing your wash bag quickly as she sits down next to you. You had to get out, you had to get away from her.

Alessia is surprised by your nonchalant response. "Lets just talk about this, please?" She says softly in a pleading voice, her eyes looking up, trying to lock with yours.

"I'm sorry." You say quietly, packing your bag and making your way towards the exit of the locker-room as fast as you can. You actually couldn't fathom that this was happening. Is this some sick joke?!

Alessia is concerned and saddened by your dismissive tone, she can tell that this whole situation has negatively affected you and is eating away at you. "Don't be sorry." She says softly, standing up. "It can be hard times, but I just want to understand whats going on. You clearly feel something. Something about me."

You stop in your tracks and turn around to face her, she makes her way towards you her eyes never leaving yours. Your heart aches, and she can see the adoration and the longing that you have for her in your eyes, behind internal conflict and self-hate.

"You're not a bad person. You know that I won't look at you differently." She whispers, pleading with you, trying to lock eyes with yours. "Please don't shut me out. I care about you, so much."

Alessia doesn't wait for a response. She steps closer to you now, closer the distance slowly. Your panting heavily, still refusing to look at her in the eyes, petrified you'd get lost in her ocean eyes. Terrified your eyes will reveal more than your words did in the press conference only moments ago. She can't feel the same. She doesn't.

She gently grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers with her ones. You feel as if you're going to have a heart attack, her touch sending bolts of electricity through your body. She can sense you're avoiding eye contact still.

"Hey, look at me" she whispers, staring at your now very flustered face, looking at you intently. Her eyes filled with concern, worry and something else, something you can't quite make out, something you've never seen from her before.

You still avoid her gaze, until she cups your cheek. You lock eyes with hers and you feel like you could die.

"just, look at me" she whispers once more, gently stroking your cheek bone with the pad of her thumb "thats it, just look at me."

Before you can stop yourself, the words fall out of your mouth in a whisper "i am. how can I not?" You let out a shaky breath at that, noticing her lips curl into a small smile, her eyes following your gaze down to her own lips.

"i know, I know you do, I see you" she whispers in response, moving closer to your face now, both your breaths mingling. Your heart continues to pound, her thumb gently traces your jawline, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

Its as if time has stopped. Your heart is pounding so hard against your ribcage you might have a heart attack. But her presence, the way shes looking at you, her voice, her touch—it makes sense in ways you never expected.

And then, just as you think you can’t handle the intensity any longer, she leans in. Were you about to kiss the girl you've been in love with for so long now.....

[corviiids]

alright. i played death note game for the first time. here are my observations from the three games i played

joined an incredibly lovely lobby. if you guys see this hi im rook and i'm sorry for deceiving you

got kira follower two games in a row

won both, hell yeah

told everyone it was my first time playing the game (true) and that i didn't know how the game worked (also mostly true)

got kira my third game. literally what are the odds of this happening to me i didn't get to side with L a single time

day 1: immediately start killing aggressively with zero subtlety.

raised suspicions to the point i was the literal only suspect and everyone was talking about voting for me

i have all the evidence on me and if i get arrested i lose right here. not good. how do i get out of this

distracted them from interrogating me by asking inane questions and playing dumb

stalled out the timer and diverted conversation until everyone was confused and time ran out, forcing a skipped vote. the timer is LONG. this took a WHILE

one player was ultra sus of me and told everyone else if they died then i must be kira

day 2: immediately handed off the death note and all my evidence to my teammate

instructed them to kill the player who suspected me so that all suspicion would fall on me and not on them

deliberately acted as suspicious as possible to get myself caught at the next meeting

everyone is incredibly sus of me at the meeting because i've been standing near literally everyone

everyone votes for me apologetically ("sorry rook that this is your first experience, no way you got kira three times in a row but it's too sus, hope you get a chance to learn the game properly")

sadly conceded to everyone that i understood i must look very sus and didn't know how to defend myself :(

got arrested. no evidence on me.

guess i'm not kira!

follower killed L

kira wins again :)

monologued to the extremely lovely lobby about my evil plan incl. keikaku doori (joke i made on purpose) and maniacal laughter (this just happened naturally)

"wow. you really do know how to play this game."

(i do not. i got very, very lucky and had excellent teammates. but like, im happy to take credit for it.)

exp boost to 11

[humanityinahandbag]

This entire thread has me feeling very weepy and nostalgic for the both of them so I'm letting all my feelings out here (mostly because in times like these I miss them so fucking much).

So here are a few fun facts about my grandparents.

My Papa was from Brooklyn. He played basketball as a teenager. His nose was permanently crooked because he broke it twice shooting hoops.

When he wasn't playing basketball, he was reading. He kept a record (that one of my aunts still has) of every book he read in his local library. Which ended up being every book in that library. In alphabetical order.

My Gramma was born in Manhatten. The two of them are born and bred New Yorkers who were not afraid to be loud and opinionated. I'm third generation New Yorker and ridiculously proud of that fact as well.

My Gramma had a boyfriend when she met my Papa. She broke up with him in a phone booth with my Papa next to her. Apparently they couldn't not be together. They just knew and they were almost never apart.

My Gramma was a model when she was young and became a teacher afterwards. They got married at 19 and 20 but wouldn't live together until after both of them became educated. Education was the most important part of life to both of them.

My Papa was a psychologist. He taught himself three different languages and traveled the world teaching psychology in all three languages. He was doing this when he wasn't part of the peace corps.

One of the best things he ever told me was "excrement is the waste of the body, laughter is the waste of the soul, and tears are the waste of the heart"

He also told me that sometimes everyone needs to just go outside and scream. Cursing is a bonus.

My Gramma was an incredible cook who took classes everywhere she traveled. China, Mexico, Spain, France, Italy, everywhere; she was committed to learning how to cook from the people whose culture the food came from. I went traveling with them more than once, and it wasn't a surprise to see a chef come out of the kitchen to give her a hug, no matter what country we were in. They all knew and loved and respected her. I miss her cooking every day. (Thankfully we have an entire book of recipes with pictures of them written down that each member of the family has. It's a prized possession).

My grandparents fought like hell for a better future. They fought for LGBTQ+ rights, for immigration, against racial injustice and for women's autonomy. I could go on but the list would take a while. They made sure that my aunts marched. And then I marched with my aunts when I was just a baby, and then a young kid, and then a teen, and I still march with them now that I've grown up. And it's because of them. They were two people who could always see hope in the world because they'd watched the cycle of good and bad and held firm throughout.

They'd be so proud of everyone who is also holding firm. Who is dedicated to education. Who spends time cooking warm meals with friends, who learns languages and spreads knowledge and travels and takes time to learn about other people and other cultures and other places and is always leaving a seat open at the table no matter what.

That's what they'd do. They'd leave a seat at their table empty for you. And so will I.

And they'd also tell you to please enjoy life while you do it. Because fighting is hard and necessary. But so is laughter and joy. And even in the worst of times there was never a shortage of it between them.

I'd like to tell you all a story about my grandmother.

My grandparents raised their children, four girls (one of them my mother), to be fighters. My aunts marched in Washington for women's rights with babies strapped to their chests and like to joke that all of the grandchildren who came from that line (including myself) were born with picket signs in their hands.

But it started with my grandparents. They fought hard for what they believed in. They marched against Vietnam. They marched for Martin Luther King. They marched for women's rights. They marched for a better future.

But let's talk specifically about my grandmother for a moment.

My grandmother unfortunately passed away in 2016. She had to watch the first Trump election and did so knowing that it would probably be the last election she'd ever see. And there is some argument there that she could have given in to fear and defeatism. She could have decided none of it was worth it, and she could have decided that fascism had won and the world was over.

But she did something else instead.

To give some context, my grandparents had friends who were Republicans. I say were, because they shifted from the normal Republican towards the MAGA Republican we see today. And despite a very clear message from my family about how we felt, they were more than ready to still come to the funeral as if everything was normal. Like their beliefs were normal. Like they were welcome to celebrate someone who had fought so hard for the rights of other people.

These were people who would have absolutely used their rhetoric to scream and shout if they were left out or disinvited.

And so my grandmother, even past her final moments, pulled the most brilliant, petty move I've ever seen.

She'd decided ahead of time that everyone who had known her was more than welcome to attend but that she wanted everyone attending the funeral to donate money. That was the requirement to be invited. And so everyone did just that. There was no talk about what the donations were for, just that they were appreciated. I want to say that the assumption was the money would help pay for funeral expenses and give the family some support while we grieved.

Except that wasn't the case.

Because in those final moments of the funeral, the rabbi stepped forward to thank everyone, and then very cheerfully announced;

"Arlene was so happy to know just how many people were coming to join us here today. She couldn't have been more proud of her family. And I'm sure she would have been elated to see just how much money you all gave today to Planned Parenthood."

When I say that the faces of those people are enshrined in my memory, I mean it. The anger, the devastation, the rage, the betrayal. It was an absolutely gorgeous display of true defeat at the hands of a boss ass old lady who literally fought with her last breath and threw up both middle fingers all the way out the door.

What I'm saying is this.

It is very easy to feel defeated. It is very easy to think that everything is over, and there's nothing left for us to do. It's very easy to say that fascism won, that fear won, that hate won.

But that's only true if you let it be true.

There is always more that we can do. There is a future that is still worth fighting for. And it's more than possible, even when it doesn't seem like it.

And fighting is going to look different every time.

Some days it will look like picket signs in our hands.

Some days it will look like spending time with friends and family and people you love and knowing that you have a community that supports you and your vision of a brighter future.

And some days, it's pulling absolute natural level 20 petty trickster shit even after you've left the world.

Because you can always make an impact and you can always add a little brightness to life, and if that means tricking a group of MAGA idiots into throwing their money behind Planned Parenthood in the middle of your own goddamn funeral then that's what it means.

Keep fighting. People have done it before you. People will continue to do it after you.

And enjoy the little victories.

(Even the petty ones)

[wafflebox-o7]

Thank you Letter to Vivienne

Dear Vivziepop,

It has been a rough week for you and everyone else in the community. From leaks to the election, things have just not been going yours and many of us fans’ way. I wanted to take a moment to reach out to you to let you know WE LOVE YOU! You and your wonderful stories and universes have gotten me through so many emotional hardships over years by just simply being you and sharing the stories you’ve created with so much care. I’ve been around since the early days of zoophobia and it’s so incredibly inspiring to see how far you’ve come. So I hope to leave this with you, and maybe brighten your day, even if it’s just a little bit.

With love and care,

WaffleBox🧇📦

[stxrvel]

disclosure (6)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. platonic ot7 x f!reader for now content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, angst, reader becomes sus, fighting (in the wrong way), angry and mean jin? self-doubt. a/n. hi guysssssss!!! sorry it's taking me this long always, but i finally finished this part! i actually just finished it and it's almost 2am and i have to go to work in fivehours. i'm publishing this part as it is and maybe tomorrow if i have the time i'll look at it again, bc i'm really exhausted right now. and also please forgive me if there are any mistakes in the text;((((. but i hope you guys enjoy this 7k monster of a chapter and i'll see you next time!!

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The fourth book of your saga was a reflection of everything you had gone through when you moved with your family to the capital. You finished the third book when you had barely been in the city for a month and maybe that's why it didn't have a happy ending and why everyone who had read the trilogy had been devastated with that ending. It wasn't something you had planned from the beginning, but it wasn't something that ruined the plot either. It was actually much better than you had planned.

And when you finally finished with the trilogy, starting to write again wasn't hard, especially with so many mixed emotions and so much repressed pain coming back to the surface uninvited.

Maybe you hadn't been in connection with your strong feelings since then, when the city constantly reminded you that you had lost the only people you considered your true friends and the pain of their absence and the harsh reality was a knife burying itself in your chest over and over again. You hadn't felt this much since the moment you realized that they were able to live their lives without you, but you had to go through the mourning of losing them.

You hadn't felt this much since then, until that moment when, having been just a day since you had decided you would take the path of healing, you had to reopen the draft of your fourth book and find all those angry paragraphs, spit out words, piled up letters and whole pages filled with pure rage and pain; of disappointment and realization… of betrayal.

“Are you going to start again already? Don't you think you deserve a break?”

The words Yuna had spoken to you that morning were echoing in your head from the moment you read the first words of this draft and the memories began to well up, emotions making your hair stand on end and your throat close up.

It was almost funny to remember how incredibly angry you were when you first arrived in the city.

The city, with posters of Jungkook's face on every corner, with his performances on some screens or just teenagers talking about him and whispering about his music, it was practically impossible to escape it. The city, with radios blaring Yoongi's songs, in a cab or on public transportation, interviews blaring on TVs in shopping malls. The city, with the international news, which echoed so much, about the spectacular promises of modeling. The country couldn't be prouder to have representatives of that caliber, because the moment Taehyung and Jimin overtook the West and broke the international barrier, it was only a matter of time before the others followed suit and completely changed the idea of entertainment and media in the country.

The first months in the city were nauseating, when you had to get used to and overcome your emotions the hard way, fighting against the aggressive tide that all the time tried to drown you, and that was noticeable in every word and every scene of that book, and you were almost sure that if any of them read it, they would know immediately. If they wanted to know anything about you, if they were really interested, there would be no better way than through your books; in no other situation would you be so vulnerable.

You wondered, for a moment, if any of them would have read any of the books by now. If Namjoon would remember when you asked him for strange words to describe emotions and now they were captured in those impressions, or when you asked Jin and Hoseok for their opinion about the complex construction of your world and each of their peculiar and crazy details can be found in those pages. Just as your books had all the pieces of you, it also had crumbs of them, and you wondered if they would notice if they read it.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

Maybe you do. That's why you had decided to close that cycle once and for all, and there was no better way to do it than to finally start with the edition of this book. Of this fourth book, so strong in its toughness and determination, so vulnerable in its rage and palpable pain.

It was the cleanest and purest and truest version of you.

But as much as you deserved it, it felt more like punishment. Reliving those emotions and evoking those memories caused you more anguish and you didn't know if you could face a kind of shock therapy like that to finally let go.

“The editors said you'd be here.”

You saw Choi Dohyun standing, leaning against the door frame above the computer screen that still displayed the title of the first chapter of your fourth book. On a Wednesday at barely eight o'clock in the morning, the great CEO decided to set aside a few minutes of his busy time to gratify you with his presence.

His calm, serene and carefree expression was the contrast to the swirl of emotions that ran through that room, rising from the crown of your head. You could almost tell he wasn't venturing into the office because he could feel the tension radiating from your position at the desk. He must have even seen it on your face.

You sighed and barely waved at him, running your hands over your face, trying to ease your tense muscles a little.

“Is there a specific reason why you don't want the editors to read the book?”

Choi Dohyun was a mystery. You only knew about him from the three-hour conversation you had the day before, besides the strange looks he cast at Yoongi from his office entrance. He had shown himself to be a very open person and it was clear that he was an expert at making things work his way. You knew he had agreed to many of your conditions because what he would get in return was bigger than what it would cost him, which really wasn't too much, just enough to maintain a level of creative freedom that would allow you to access editorial support when you saw fit —because you knew that once you handed it over, it would no longer be entirely yours—and often businessmen reflected their own personalities in how they negotiated a deal.

Dohyun tried to come across as a fairly personable person; he tried to be understanding, communicative and open-minded, so much so that he reminded you of the comfortable security of an older brother. However, you could tell in that meeting that he held back too much; that he had hated the way Yuna used to interrupt him to ask him questions or how your brother would put too many buts in his mouth and try to get information out of him that he shouldn't give away. You could tell he was impatient, that he really expected the meeting to last less than twenty minutes because he was sure you would sign the contract blindly as soon as you saw the profits you'd gain from the distribution and sale of your books. You also noticed, in case it wasn't obvious already, that he preferred to be in control as long as the situation and the people around him allowed it, for his convenience. If he gave in on several occasions, you knew it had been because he was very, very aware of everything that benefited him.

There were two options: Choi Dohyun wore a mask constantly, or Choi Dohyun was a fraud.

“I just wanted to read it one more time… before handing it over. I won't take long.”

“It's okay. No problem.” Dohyun finally walked into the room, the office he had handed you for whenever you decided to go to his publishing house. You didn't even know writers had that option; you didn't know if it was common, but he allowed it. He had also offered you a writing kit that included a typewriter that looked quite expensive, and although you hadn't accepted it, there it was in one of the corners of the office. Dohyun sat across from you, glancing at the few things you had brought from home to make the place a little more pleasant. “I understand that sometimes it's hard to separate yourself from your work. It's a part of you, after all. A kind of vulnerability that not everyone sees.”

That was the kind of thing that kept Dohyun's true nature a mystery. His stoic expression as he blurted out words of comfort. It almost felt like running sandpaper over cement. Not that you needed to figure him out, because at the end of the day he was a boss of sorts and you two were bound by a contract with mutual economic benefits —technically, you were each there for a benefit of your own— but it was something you wanted to be aware of, watchful of, informed of, because you had no way of knowing this guy wouldn't try to take advantage of some situation later, in any possible scenario.

“Yes…”

“Take as much time as you need. The demand for the trilogy is still pretty high, after all.”

You nodded at him in response, wary of his attempt to lighten the mood. If he was the kind of person you thought he was, he surely knew you didn't feel an ounce of trust towards him.

“In just two days you must have quite a bit of work to do with that,” you tried to continue the conversation, interspersing your gaze over the letters on the screen and his dark eyes.

“But it's a very welcome work. Aren't you glad your books were so well received?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, momentarily remembering the proud look on Yuna and your brother's face when they finally got you to see the reactions and opinions of your books on social media. “It's comforting. For your work to be appreciated, recognized… moreover, that it allows you to make a living from it. It's amazing and a very great privilege.”

Dohyun shook his head in assent, interlacing his fingers over his abdomen. From his nonchalant way of taking a seat across from you, slumped over the chair almost as if he was an old friend from college and not practically your boss, and from how his voice reflected that sense of calmness and confidence, you could almost tell he was perfectly selling the facade of the most trustworthy person in the world.

But ultimately it was your feeling and your need to automatically distrust anyone you met because you didn't know at what point they would try to take advantage of you or turn their back on you, and maybe Dohyun wasn't as bad a person as you wanted to paint him in your head. Maybe you would even accept that his presence was a bit comforting and that he actually reminded you of someone you used to know in the past and of whom currently, if you knew he was still alive, it was by sheer luck. That personality, that sense of security he conveyed and that way he had had of expressing himself to you in that meeting that showed a different and more mature kind of wisdom, indeed reminded you of someone else.

Dohyun was very, very much like Jin.

“Can I… ask you something?” you hesitated, alternating your gaze between the screen and his dark eyes, not quite sure if you wanted to go down that path, but aware that you would get something in return if you did, and perhaps the risk would be worth it. “But it's not related to… this.”

As you pointed to your computer and the rest of the office, you couldn't decipher what expression Dohyun sketched. Trying to read him like you did everyone else, it seemed he entertained a specific train of thought in his head and was sparked by your question, but you couldn't probe much further because he agreed, tilting his head to invite you to ask bluntly.

“How do you know Min Yoongi?”

Dohyun then lifted his chin and his lips curved into a sort of small smile that could more accurately be described as a grimace. With his eyes on the window, with the beautiful view of the city and its busy streets, Dohyun took his time to answer and his pleased and almost satisfied look gave you to understand that your question was not a surprise at all. Dohyun could take it simply as healthy curiosity, for after all Yoongi was a celebrity and there weren't many people around the country who couldn't recognize him and you literally saw him face to face.

However, of course, there was something about his attitude that felt different. He wasn't surprised by your question, it was true, but maybe not for the reason you thought.

“He's a friend of my best friend.” Dohyun finally answered, returning your gaze, a glint of amusement highlighting his dark eyes. “I met him a couple of years ago through him, who is also his best friend. Otherwise, I doubt we would've ever met.”

Ah, Dohyun had a best friend who was best friends with Yoongi. That could only mean one thing.

“Ah. Then your best friend is part of the seven kings.”

Dohyun raised his eyebrows, clearly amused by your choice of words and the permanence of that haunting smile and the glint in his eyes should've been warning enough. He had the posture, demeanor and speech of a person who knew he was in control of the situation. Whatever his purpose was in entertaining this conversation, you already knew you were involved in that reason, indirectly.

Dohyun knew something about you that you had no idea about.

“Yes, indeed. It's Kim Seokjin. We met in college.”

As you guessed, of course. That's where the similar traits you could find in his personality came from.

But then Yoongi wasn't directly friends with Dohyun, and they couldn't be that close because of the nonchalant way he referred to him, so the question of why he was here yesterday, precisely when you came, would remain unanswered. It could be a coincidence? Of course, and you could remain in doubt, or you could…

“Wow. You two really are a powerful duo.”

Dohyun let out a laugh, nodding, looking so comfortable with himself, as if you were asking all the questions you should be asking.

“I love my job and I know I'm good at what I do, but Jin is simply on another level.”

You nodded, getting into his game of pretending, with a half smile on your face.

You knew that if Yuna knew what you were doing she would shake her head and tell you that you were crazy; that you should try to be less hard on other people and that's why you had never been able to hit it off with the other co-workers in Sol's cafeteria.

“Yes. I hear he's a great surgeon. He was top of his class, wasn't he?”

“That's right.” Dohyun nodded, determined not to look away from you. “But you're close to them too, aren't you? I saw Taehyung's Instagram stories when he uploaded your books.”

You blinked. Once. And again. He had already figured you out, and now he wanted to reverse the table and get some kind of reaction or information from you that you didn't know what kind of mystery it would solve in his head. The best option was to feign a bit of surprise, which was what you did, as if you didn't expect him to suddenly bring that up.

“Well, we studied together in school, but we were never that close.”

You lifted a shoulder, trying to downplay the subject, as if on cue, and Dohyun nodded slightly processing the information, averting his gaze over the dark carpet on the floor. He seemed to be tying up loose ends in his head and had more questions, the way he squinted his eyes as you gave him his space to think.

You had no idea what he was getting at. You had already brought out to him that he was close friends with Kim Seokjin and that, basically by extension he knew Yoongi. You could almost say it was a bit of an ordinary, almost trivial topic, not overly suspicious. Unless, of course, he knew something else that raised his curiosity and made you look suspicious in his eyes for asking such questions.

It seemed the most certain theory.

“And through him you must have met the others sometime, right?”

And it seemed you were right, too.

You had to deny his assertion, you knew, but it seemed you had taken half a second too long because he beat you to the word, shaking his head in a nod, and then said:

“That explains a lot.”

“Huh?”

Play dumb, play dumb.

Dohyun cracked a big grin, looking almost like a predator in the midst of its hunt, and from that alone you knew he'd already put his puzzle together.

“Well… actually, now that we're being honest, Jin was the one who recommended me to read your books.”

Wow.

Okay.

Jin… told Dohyun about you? About your books?

That doesn't explain anything. In fact, more questions popped up in your head than you could control and you were sure Dohyun could see the question marks moving over your irises.

“He told me that there could be a great opportunity if I published you and he was really right. I don't regret sending you that offer.”

Dohyun leaned back against the backrest and stretched one of his arms over the chair next to him. His posture was a little more relaxed than before and you couldn't help the feeling of anger that ran through you because you had given him just what he wanted, but you couldn't concentrate too much on that because you were too surprised by what he had just blurted out, as if it was nothig.

Of all the things you could've imagined, you would never have considered that this huge and prestigious publishing house had offered you a contract just because one of the CEO's great friends had recommended it to him. I mean, if Jin had never talked about it, would you have had any chance of getting this offer? Of signing this contract? Would you have been recognized on your own merit and not because you were linked to the mouth of a close friend?

None of that made any sense. Why had Jin told Choi Dohyun about you? His best friend being the owner of the most prestigious publishing house in the country, clearly knowing the implications of his actions, why would he do that? Maybe he didn't count on his friend throwing him overboard someday for gossiping and because he has an ego bigger than his own head? Maybe he thought it would be an anonymous job forever? And for what reason? On what grounds? What kind of emotions moved him to make that decision? Maybe it was simply an altruistic desire. Maybe he was moved by the same thing that moved Taehyung, the one who started all this. But was it something premeditated or not? Was it something he had previously discussed with Namjoon? Would the others know about it? Would they have agreed? Would they not have cared?

In the midst of that mental stupor, the very idea of healing seemed stupid to you. The immense confusion and anger that was coursing through your blood had no place for this group of fools to continue to meddle in your life as if they were playing a fucking election game on their computer. Why? Why? Why?

You wanted to get out of a simple doubt with Dohyun, to know what kind of connection he had with Yoongi and that everything that had happened was a coincidence, and you had ended up with a thousand more questions, with a hundred confusions and even more mixed emotions.

And Yoongi… would he have been in his office yesterday for something related to that?

“At first I thought Taehyung had asked him, but Jin is quite careful about such things. He wouldn't hint something like that to me even because his brothers ask him to, unless it was someone he could vouch for. So you knew Jin too, right?”

You didn't try to deny it, but you didn't give him the reason either. Amidst a sea of questions and confusion, incredulous and angry, you just shook your head and crossed your arms.

“I'll bring the first draft tomorrow.”

Dohyun took his time, drumming his fingers on the wood of the chair, sending you a look as if he wanted to get more answers out of you because your attitude raised more doubts than he initially had. Maybe you let go of a wolf's leash or this would be a one-time occurrence, you had no idea. But he said nothing more. Finally he got up, said goodbye and left.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

You should've listened to Yuna.

-

The next day, when you finished editing the draft of your fourth book amid tears, several cups of coffee and an excruciating pain in your wrist, you finally handed it in to the editors with a heavy heart and an hour of sleep in your body. It had officially ceased to be yours. The revelation that Dohyun had actually offered you all of this because Jin had asked him to do so kept going round and round in your head and made you revise and edit that draft more harshly than you would've done before.

Maybe you added a few extra curse words.

“If you don't finish that pasta, I'm going to steal it from you.”

Yuna hadn't even finished her own plate and was already eyeing yours, her brow furrowed and her own fork stabbing the ceramic of the deep dish you'd served your friend in as she crossed the threshold of the front door. You had been stirring the food with your fork for a while, thinking, reflecting, theorizing, trying to figure out what you really wanted; trying to recognize and accept the emotions inside you that were upsetting you.

Your parents had left early and Seojun was back in his college dorms, so you invited Yuna to lunch because you knew she loved the pastries your mom made and because you thought it would do you good to have some company after turning in the draft of your book. But, really, you were more overwhelmed than before. Yuna's presence didn't stop the thoughts in your head from racing, nor did it erase from reality what had happened.

“Y/n?”

You raised your head.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, and tried to focus on eating lunch before rambling on.

“Is it because of the book?”

“No, no. Everything's fine. I was just thinking.”

“Do you think you should've waited a little longer to turn it in?”

You shook your head. “No.”

It wasn't an order from Dohyun or anything like that. You decided to get started on editing the next book because it was a bit desperate to have nothing to do. Before you could focus on the whole operational and logistical process of delivering the books, but now that was taken care of by a separate company and all you had to do was verify that the money was coming into your account and that was it. Not that it was bad, but you were not used to just sitting idly by. So you thought that continuing with the pre-publication editing of the next books might be a good way to pass the time.

You didn't expect, of course, the statement you heard the day before, let alone that it would knock down your motivation like the wind to dry leaves. After that conversation with Dohyun, you decided that the best thing you could do was to turn in that draft and give them as much work as possible as a distraction so that you wouldn't have to go back to that building for at least a couple of weeks. It wasn't a healthy activity, of course, because at the time you were only functioning to keep Yuna from questioning if there was something wrong with you. Well, she probably did, but she preferred not to comment on it, because you hadn't been giving her too many answers to her questions lately.

Having decided that Dohyun was an expert manipulator, you could only worry about the possibility that he might decide to comment something about that conversation to Jin or just stir up a conversation about the possible existence of a friendly bond with him during school time. You didn't know what could trigger that; with everything that had happened up to that point you could no longer be sure of anything or trust anything.

“No. I thought I'd turn it in now so I'd have more time to read the next books. I know that one isn't too bad. I revised it too many times while I was writing it and even after.”

“And it's pretty long, isn't it?”

You nodded, finally tasting another mouthful of pasta. “Seven hundred pages.”

“Holy Christ,” Yuna put a hand to her forehead and sketched a worried expression. Then her excited exclamation echoed throughout the house. “What a thrill! I can't wait to read it!!!!!!”

Yuna returned to work an hour later and you spent the rest of the afternoon between shifts of lying down staring at the ceiling and watching more videos about your books on social media, which you hadn't been able to leave since you saw them with your whole family in the living room. It still seemed surreal to you that you could search the name of your books on the internet and you would indeed get the results you expected. Clearly not all the opinions were praise, but you were willing to take all of that and learn, implement and consider it for the next stories you were willing to tell. For now, you were going to focus on keeping the editors busy enough that they wouldn't have to ask about it or demand your presence for any reason. This trilogy really was quite a lengthy saga, so when they finallt finish editing the fourth book, you'd have the fifth waiting, and so on. At least until you had another amazing idea for a new story.

Now, on the slightly more disturbing topics, you still had more loose ends to tie up than you had initially thought. As you still had those particles of anger running through your body and you were still convinced that there was still no room for healing and overcoming, you could only think about what Yoongi's presence in Dohyun's office was about and if it had to do with what Jin had done.

That was the first line of thought. The second one sounded more like Yuna with her serious voice trying to talk some sense into you and tell you that you were seeing into it too much, that surely it was all just a coincidence and that Yoongi's presence was just some kind of crossfire.

But… yet… how many more times did something like this have to happen before you stopped chalking it up to coincidence? How many more times would you say it was a coincidence until everything started to connect to a purpose? Did they even have a purpose? Did they have a reason for all this, for all this unnecessary drama? And was their reason worth it to compensate for the instability you were going through? Having pent up emotions, confusion, lots of doubts and zero answers was about to drive you crazy.

However, maybe seeing things from another approach would allow you to understand.

Because, honestly, you saw it as too complicated to be able to leave them behind in this way, when it seemed that, on purpose or not, you would keep finding them in your soup. Adopting a slightly more objective approach, even though your emotions were always running high when it came to them, could give you the resolution you were looking for and the answer to the questions you were asking yourself. And there would be nothing more than that, because it would be impossible to restore the friendship you once had. Perhaps the truth would be painful, but you would accept it as it was and move on. Now, as old as you were, it would not be as hard as it was ten years ago when in the midst of confusion and desolation you could only cry.

Now, you had already gone through the mourning and made peace with the distance, the absence and the betrayal.

Maybe, if you tried a little harder, you could bring real closure —and soon, hopefully— by finding the answers on your own.

-

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, which he was spinning around like a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and solve any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would make everyone feel comfortable enough to move forward.

In his head, Namjoon was a three thousand dollars conflict-solver. Seeking solutions from reason and objectivity was basically how he kept his company afloat, that company he had inherited from his parents and had turned into the economic juggernaut it was today. All that success was summed up in the capacity for resolution that Namjoon had in his super head and, of course, his strategic capacity that allowed him to read his opponents and know exactly what they wanted, how they wanted it and when they wanted it.

However…

The whole table was still silent.

And Namjoon could only look at the faces of each of his friends, his best friends, practically his brothers, while they shied away from his gaze or directly ignored him, while he clasped his hands on the edge of the chair and tried to keep his composure because he no longer knew what to do.

Kim Namjoon, the three-thousandth troubleshooter, had a factory defect and could not fix the one thing he had always been able to fix with ease.

When Hoseok had walked into his office two nights ago with that stern and serious expression, Namjoon knew that there would be more problems to solve. But if he had to be honest, even before that moment he knew it wasn't working out well. Maybe it was because of the delicacy of the subject or the crudeness of his friends to address it, but Namjoon was losing the important ingredient of patience and that was something that hadn't happened to him before.

But then again, how could they all be so insensitive?

“Doesn't anyone have anything to say?”

Hoseok had been the only one to be spared from this discussion, though his presence was required at the table and tension radiated from his body in equal amounts. The others were directly attacked by the three thousandth (broken) problem-solver and despite Namjoon giving them a space to try to explain the situation, the table was still silent and with each passing second the pressure cooker containing Namjoon's anger was beeping louder and louder.

“I don't think there's much to say.”

It was Jin who finally broke the silence and Namjoon let out some air.

“Ah, thank you, Jin. Why do you think so?”

With his arms crossed, the older sent him an incredulous look.

“We've had this conversation three times already, Namjoon. Why do you think it's necessary for us to keep repeating ourselves?”

Hoseok had told Namjoon that he was concerned about the coexistence in the pent-house and that perhaps the elephant in the room was not being addressed in the right way; that more and more misunderstandings were being created between everyone and that it was making for an untrustworthy environment for the youngers. Namjoon agreed halfway through; if he had to be honest, none of it would've gotten to that point if none of them had been so irresponsible and daring to do all that they had done. And Jin had the least right to dismiss the issue as he had.

“Because you all don't seem to have listened to me at all, especially you.”

Jin snorted and turned his head away. Jungkook beside him barely winced at the hostile exchange.

“And what did I do?”

“What did you do? Jin, how can you be so inconsiderate?”

“I only rushed an exchange that was eventually going to happen, what the fuck is wrong with that?”

Namjoon tried not to look so surprised by the fact that the conversation he had had with him two nights ago and Yoongi had basically gone in one ear and out the other. Namjoon had no idea if it was an occupational hazard or a personality trait, but Jin was having a kind of stubbornness that bordered too much on his pride and desire to be right.

And right now it wasn't about who was right or wrong. It was about the fact that they had all made a promise and now they were breaking it as if it was worthless. Worse, as if the only ones affected by it were them and not a third party.

“Didn't you stop to think how she would feel if she found out that was how things went down?”

Jin rolled his eyes, but didn't answer him.

“Why do you all do all these things without believing that they will have consequences beyond your own feelings? That's all I'm asking you to consider!”

Taehyung and Jungkook at least had the decency to actually look embarrassed, avoiding Namjoon's gaze. Jimin was still convinced that he had done nothing extremely wrong and Yoongi simply demonstrated his sorrow through indifference. Namjoon knew that Yoongi was just as frustrated as he was with the way things were going, because they were the only ones trying to fix the messes the others had been thoughtlessly causing. And Jin… well, it was obvious that he didn't see any big implications beyond having to be scolded by Namjoon.

“Guys…” Hoseok started, sitting to Namjoon's right with a tired and defeated expression. If Namjoon and Yoongi were looking out for the integrity of the third party concerned, Hoseok was the one who was most concerned about the bonds that were breaking between them and that was why he had gone to Namjoon to have a group meeting again and set the boundaries once and for all. “You guys know that Namjoon is not just talking for the sake of talking. Jin, you don't need to get defensive. I understand that you tried to make the connection in good faith, but you have to understand that it was a very high risk. And while Dohyun is your friend, you know he's not very trustworthy.”

Jin grunted then, despite the kind tone Hoseok used to address him, and the others at the table only sent him a surprised look.

“Sure, now it's all my own damn fault. Not only do I have to deal with the stress of work, now I have to come to my supposed time off to deal with this too?”

“Hyung,” Yoongi called after him and frowned at the rude tone the older had used. “No one is saying it's your fault. We all have a part in this.”

“I don't care, Yoongi. Whatever's going on right now you know who's really to blame. And there's nothing you can do about it anymore.”

“Jin,” Namjoon called back and the aforementioned turned to look at him with daggers in his eyes. “You made the promise too.”

“Yes, one I never agreed to and you know it.”

Hoseok sighed and ran his hands over his face. “This is not the time to apportion blame, okay? I only wanted this space because I want us to fix this lack of communication and all this hostility that is affecting our living together.”

Namjoon turned to look at the table, finding the younger ones sealed in silence. None of them raised their heads and they showed signs of nervousness and anxiety, even if they tried to hide it under the tablecloth on the table.

There were too many things Namjoon wanted to control; there were too many things he wanted to solve; there were a number of other things that drove him mad and others that made him feel hopeless. Understanding all these emotions, his own or others', was wearing him down and perhaps that was why he was increasingly losing an ounce of patience. However, no matter how hard it was for him, Namjoon had to be sure that his priority was right in front of him. He had chosen to do so a couple of years ago and he could no longer turn back time.

“Hey, I'm sorry, okay?” Namjoon started once again and although Hoseok tried to shush him to calm down, he continued, “I know how I've acted during these days since everything started and I have not been very open to dialogue. For me it was… it was like crossing a forbidden boundary and I couldn't understand how you guys could jump over it without a second thought. It made my hair stand on end and I didn't… I didn't… I didn't know how to contain those emotions, I didn't know how to control them and clearly I didn't know how to express them. And the truth is that it worries me. I understand that you don't, because otherwise you wouldn't have done any of that, but I would like you to try to do that because this is not a unilateral action that will only affect you and will only be in your memories. You are affecting her too, and very much so. We were not good, not even friendly or cordial, so I need you to understand that all these things she will not see them as you think. Jungkook, you experienced it first hand. She hates us.”

Jungkook jerked on the chair and Taehyung was the one who reached over the table to take his intertwined hands. Jin sighed, finally letting the anger dissipate and Yoongi mimicked him, a little calmer as he watched his elder relax. Hoseok shook his head in assent, noticing the tension at the table dissipate a bit and how the young men held each other.

“And rightly so, because we made an inexcusable decision. And not only that, but she will now believe that it was a simple Tuesday for us and it's not. We made the promise for a reason and anything related we were supposed to consult first as a group. Sure, life happens and we get busy with a lot of things and have too much on our minds, but this was all inexcusable and we owe her more than forgiveness. We probably owe her our lives.”

“Hyung, I'm sorry…”

Jungkook was the most regretful. Since that harsh encounter, for which he dared to risk his presence in public and for which he believed it would be worth a try, Jungkook had never regretted something so much since the day of the promise. He still remembered the hatred your voice exuded and shivers ran down his spine. He had been unconscious, that was true, and he didn't know what he had let consume his body to have made that decision or to have simply acted without thinking. The possibility of seeing you again simply…blinded him. But that was never an excuse.

And Namjoon knew that. It was Jungkook who acted worse than everyone else, but he also couldn't deny to himself that had he found himself in the same predicament, with the same opportunity, he wouldn't have done the same. Maybe that's why he was so demanding of others, because that's how he reminded himself that he had no right to even think about it, much less act on their emotions, when they had taken away your choice as if they had any say in it.

“We can't erase what has already happened and what you have already done. All I ask is that you don't make it worse.” Namjoon implored, closing his eyes in silent prayer. “At this point there is no way to fix anything, and if every day we do things like this we are only inflicting pain on someone who doesn't deserve it. So please, for the love of God, leave her alone.”

The whole table was still silent, but this time Namjoon could clearly see everyone's face and notice their emotions right away, as he had always been able to do. He still didn't understand what had moved them to do all that; to Taehyung, to Jungkook, to Jin, to Jimin, despite everything they had discussed before, and he didn't understand how he hadn't been able to foresee their intentions from the beginning. But he could no longer focus on what had happened, but on what was happening and what he could still fix.

For that which had already been broken for years, Namjoon doubted too much that any of it could ever be fixed, no matter how hard he tried. And boy, would he have wanted to try.

“I'm sorry,” Jin mumbled, and it almost seemed like he had ripped the words from the back of his throat, but Namjoon took it with all his being and considered it the first victory on this new path.

When he finally dispatched everyone, Jimin remained seated to his left.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

The blond looked disgruntled, and though it was clear that the tension was gone from his shoulders, in his gaze was that longing that Namjoon hadn't seen in years and certainly didn't allow in himself for all that he had previously exposed.

“Do you really think it's impossible to fix it?”

Namjoon hated knowing that the gleam in Jimin's eye had no future. At least not the one he wanted to believe. Namjoon, like everyone else, had spent sleepless nights thinking, remembering, reflecting and considering that they were never brave enough nor necessarily tough enough to earn that friendship once again. It had all gone to waste and it had been because of them.

“Yeah, I don't think that's possible.”

Jimin passed his saliva harshly, as if his mouth was dry, but he had to control and keep his emotions in check. Namjoon knew his every emotion and mainly knew how sensitive this whole issue was for Jimin, who from the beginning never agreed with him on anything and never hesitated to let him know. In fact, it took a couple of years before Namjoon could finally have this close relationship with Jimin again, until the blond decided to forgive him.

“It's silly to hope at this point, right?”

Namjoon also knew that Jimin struggled a lot to stop pointing blames, as Jin still did. He knew that, had Jimin had the opportunity in his hands several years in the past, he would have taken it and perhaps left them behind if he could. It was an extremely complex and long process to get the blond to trust Namjoon and those on his side again, which was one of the reasons why Hoseok was so insistent on talking and communicating and keeping everyone on good terms. It had cost them so much to re-form their trust that he couldn't allow it to crack once again.

Jimin nodded at his words when they were met with silence, for there was nothing Namjoon could say to comfort him. It was simply a heartbreaking situation.

“Tae and I will be with Jungkook.” Jimin assured Namjoon as he stood up. “Thank you… for trying.”

Namjoon only nodded, pressing his lips together in an attempt at a smile. Things would not automatically go back to the way they were before, as Namjoon's sternness in dealing with this issue on previous occasions was what initially caused this whole fiasco of miscommunication and hostility. He was heartily grateful that likewise Jimin took him into consideration, because he didn't know if he would be able to sleep knowing that everyone in that pent-house hated him. He didn't know if being the reason for the constant discord would allow him to have a respite of peace of mind at some point, when he was simply trying to do what he thought was best for everyone and what suited them on a sentimental level.

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, over which he circled as if it was a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and provide a solution to any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would allow everyone to feel comfortable enough to move forward.

However, at that moment, the past tense wording was the most accurate.

Namjoon used to believe.

Jimin stopped halfway up the stairs, transfixed, and Namjoon watched him curiously. Then, the blond half-turned on his heels and Namjoon got front row view of Jimin's pale face and his exaggeratedly expanded eyes as he looked at his phone.

“Hyung…”

Namjoon came striding over, intrigued as well as concerned by the expression on the blond's face.

Jimin had his Instagram open, specifically his direct messages. There was the message there that had made Jimin stop dead in his tracks and all blood dropped to his feet, but Namjoon didn't understand what the reason for his surprise was until he saw the sender, and then his eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

y/n Let's meet

--

omg🙊🙊

tag: @rinkud@futuristicenemychaos@pastelpeachess@parapiop7@11thenightwemet11 @yoongznme @queenbloody @lynnettys-world @darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi @drenix004 @dhanyasri @borahaetelevision

[butlervibesonly]

𝑈𝑛𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 || Austin Butler

• Summary : Austin and you have been close friends since you were teenagers. However, you have never worked together as actors, and certainly not in a movie where you are a couple.

• Pairing : Austin Butler x Priscilla actress! reader

• Warnings : first kiss, confessing love, overall fluff

• Note : I hope this is not overrated, but I just had to write Austin x actress reader and especially one where you (reader) are playing Priscilla and him being Elvis 😩

You and Austin have known each other for many years. You've been friends since you were teenagers, but never in your wildest dreams would you two have imagined playing Elvis and Priscilla together.

But there it is, and here you are. On the set of Elvis. You and Austin. From the first moments when you started working on the film and started spending more time together, you couldn't help it but catch feelings for him.

But you were afraid that Austin didn't have it that way. Or maybe he has? Probably not. You were just in backstage watching Austin give a breathtaking performance as Elvis. It was almost impossible how flawlessly he could imitate him. The voice, the singing, the look... The hair....

"Y/n...? Earth is calling Y/n." you heard a familiar voice in your thoughts. And in fact, that voice brought you back to reality. Looking up slightly you saw Tom Hanks in his Colonel Parker costume. "Oh, Tom! Hi-" you said as soon as you were brought back.

"Hello there. I see you're amazed just as I am." he said, sitting beside you. "Yeah," you smiled. "He's really incredible. He sounds exactly like him." you complimented your colleague, and heard Baz yell 'Cut!'.

"Right... What's up between you two, anyway?" The question almost took your breath away. You looked at Tom, frozen, taken aback. "Uhm... What do you mean?"

"Well, I can't unsee the way you two are together, you know." Tom spent a lot of time with the two of you, but is it this obvious to everyone that you're completely into him? "You like him, don't you?" he suddenly added.

"Am I that noticeable? How do you know?” you asked nervously. "Y/n, I know what two people in love look like. Maybe it's the way you two look at each other, how you treat each other." Tom was right. In past few months, you have been treating him and he was treating you with such a much more intimacy or connection.

"Yeah, well... I do like him, but I'm afraid. What if it's not both sided?" Tom straightened his position, smiling at you in such a warm way. "I wouldn't be afraid of that," he said suddenly. "If only you knew how he talks about you when you're not around, you'd be surprised."

You looked at Tom, speechless. Austin talking about you? "How?" you were so curious. "Very sweetly, Y/n. I've never seen someone speak so nicely about a woman like he does about you. And it's true what he said, by the way."

Just as soon as Tom said this you looked at Austin who was looking at you. As soon as you made eye contact, Austin smiled - just like he always does when he sees you. "Young love..." Tom added, patting your shoulder as he stood up.

"Don't worry, tell him. Trust me you won't lose anything, quite the opposite.” he winked at you and walked away as Baz decided to call it a day with filming. Austin was still discussing something with the crew, and you were heading to the costume trailer to take off your outfit.

LATER THAT NIGHT...

You kept thinking about Tom's words. Is it really what he says? Austin talks this nice about you? Thoughts were flowing through your head more than ever. You left the costume trailer. Outside was already dark as the late evening air hit you. On your way to your trailer, you suddenly bumped into Austin.

"Y/n, h-hi!" Austin said. You could say you almost blushed the moment you realized it's him. "Hey Aus," you replied, your voice kinda trembling. His eyes were bright even in the street lights, water was dripping from his wet, currently black, hair, probably fresh from the shower. There was a moment of awkward silence as you noticed that Austin was carrying some boxes.

"Oh, um.. I may or may have not accidentally ordered two boxes of Chinese food, and I thought if you don't want to join me?" Your heart started to race. This never happened to you around him, but now, after what you've been told, it's different.

"I would love to." you smiled, and Austin and you headed to his trailer. Is it normal to be this nervous around your best friend? "So how was your day?" Austin asked, placing the food on the table as you sat down. "Mhm, well, demanding? Great?" you smiled.

"So nothin' new, huh?" Austin laughed. Gosh, you love him. "Actually, I saw you were watching while I did the singing scene, how did i do?" he asked, handing you the fork for your food. "You did damn well, Aus. You sound exactly like him."

Austin looked at you with warm smile, happy about your compliment. You guys started eating the food, talking about your day, about the film and everything else possible.

The conversation has slowed down, and there’s this silence, one that’s comfortable but filled with something unspoken. You feel your heart racing a little as Austin glances over at you, his gaze soft and thoughtful.

"Um, Y/n, you know," he began. The words were slipping out of his mouth, one by one, his voice soft yet deep. "I- There is something I have to talk about. Or maybe more, I have to tell you something." Here, you heart stopped. What's going on?

"Mhm?" you murmured to break the silence. "R-right," Austin took a deep breath. "I’ve been wanting to say this for so long, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to risk messing this up or losing you..." Whatever he wanted to say, you didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Lose? Lose how? You feel your pulse quicken, sensing the weight in his words.

“Y/n, I’ve been in love with you since day one,” he continues, his gaze locking onto yours, vulnerable and open in a way you’ve never seen before. “Every moment with you, every smile, every little thing you do... it just made me fall deeper. I tried to keep it to myself, but being this close to you now, I can’t hide it anymore. I don’t want to hide it.”

He loves you? Did you hear that right? Did Austin, the boy you knew since you were 13, just said he loves you back? Your heart felt like it's going to jump out of your chest. He likes you, too.

In shock, you lost almost all the words that exist. You didn't know what to say, although you yourself knew very well what to answer. "Sorry if I threw it on you too quickly, I -"

"No," you breathed out in nervous laugh. "No, Austin, don't be sorry. I love you, too. I am completely in love with you more than words can explain. I feel the same, Aus.” you smiled.

After a few seconds, he reached over, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingertips brushing your skin gently. He let out a small, almost nervous laugh, his eyes flickering away for just a second before coming back to meet yours, more serious now.

“I’ve wanted to do this for years,” he said, his voice low. There’s a warmth in his gaze that made everything around you seem to fade. He leaned in slowly, giving you a chance to close the space between you, or to pull away if you want. But you didn’t pull away.

When Austin's lips touched yours, it was soft and tentative at first, almost as if he was savoring the moment as much as you were. But then, he deepened the kiss, his hand gently resting against your cheek as he draws you closer. The world felt like it stopped spinning, with only the warmth of his kiss and the feeling of his heart beating close to yours.

When you managed to break the kiss, he pressed his forehead against yours. Your heart was still racing, but now in much more pure way, almost as if the soft feelings grew stronger. The silence and sweet moment is broke by your phone ringing with message. "That's Tom," you say, opening the message.

Tom

He didn't order that food by mistake, but on purpose, I told him to do so. I knew I could make you date!

Both, Austin and you laughed. So actually Tom knew all along that you secretly loved each other and wanted to do everything to put you together. And well, he succeeded.

[aethesfaelibrarae]

Mouthwashing has given me a lot of brain worms and we've got thoughts—time to share them with the hungry void that is Tumblr. One of the last places I'm 90% certain my words won't show up stolen or regurgitated by machine.

Warning for spoilers about the game and rambling!

I believe that Mouthwashing is a modern-day Lolita. The storytelling is similar, in that, almost against their own better judgement and will, the audience finds themselves thinking like our unreliable narrator(s).

Most people.. Sorry, some people have cottoned on to the fact that Anya's personality is not that of a scared, timid and ultimately, useless nurse and she's been in fight or flight response for months now with no other choice but to fawn. As someone who has been in a similar situation for only one day a week for months, the fear only got worse, the longer I went without support. And the things that she does in the background.. No doubt similar to the way that Daisuke kept track of their food supply was brushed over and unsung.. So is the fact that Anya has been keeping a severe burn victim—with 4th degree burns so severe, any treatment we currently have is experimental and expensive.. If the pain does not kill you first—she's been keeping Curly alive for months with no help and incredibly minimal supplies. (I personally think that Anya probably was on the side of giving him an easier death or maybe even suggested a gentler way of giving him medicine—but (sterile) syringes in space? Limited water? An especially dismissive Swansea and go with the flow Daisuke?.. Easier to try and give Jimmy what he wants.)

But. I believe that people overlook the ways in which Catastrophe Jim's perspective on Curly twists our own. Pre-Crash Curly exists upon a pedestal—a good man, better than Jimmy could ever hope to be; a good, well-liked captain. Well-off, better looking (I say this because of the similarities in how Jimmy mentally views himself in similar shape and age as Curly) and still reaching for more. For better. People catch the underlying jealous and resentment for the life that Jimmy wants at all cost but.. They miss the pedestal. The miss the fact that if Jimmy says that Curly's better than he is, a good and better Captain.. That means that Curly is doing the bare fucking minimum: keeping them all alive year after year. Curly is a nice captain with the capacity to soothe over minor issues and keep a cool head and keep the crew on schedule.. But he is not a good one. He's not even a good person. Not really. Jimmy thinks of him as a good person, puts him on this pedestal that he's foaming at the mouth with excitement to pull him off of. Dirty the golden boy and spit on his silver-threaded bootstraps once and for all.

Except.. What evidence do we have that Curly is especially liked or respected? Where is this cheering crew? Where is Curly good?

Curly is a human, at the end of the day.

And.. Which comes to my more complicated and no doubt contriversal take... Curly is also a victim of Jimmy stuck in fawn response. This doesn't absolve him of the ways in which he failed the crew but Anya especially by letting Jimmy run amok and failing to take any action while he still had the chance. He stood by when Anya begins to hint at something beneath the shiny veneer of a happy tight-knit crew and most damningly, he stood by as Jimothy entered the cockpit immediately after suggesting a plan to kill everyone aboard.

I genuinely.. Genuinely.. Don't know what he thought would happen.

But he does take action.. And his last action is what makes he and Anya swap places. Except.. Not truly.

Yes, they are in similar situations—vulnerable to the whims of a psychotic madman with an inferiority complex and their plight largely ignored by the crew; a necessary sacrifice to keep the peace.. Just until safe harbor—but where Anya begins to gain autonomy and some relief from Jimmy no longer having a need for her.. Curly finds himself the center of Jimmy's world.

And that is not a great place to be in.

Curly is systemically isolated (bad-mouthed to the crew over and over again, berated publicly, blamed for an awful accident that Jimmy caused) and his torture and abuse mirrors the continuous, silent medical, emotional and physical abuse that many disabled people face. And almost in a worse way, his voice is stolen from him and used in such insidious inspiration porn.. A lot of people think that he actually said those things.

But we won't know. And if he did say these things.. Why does Jimmy only seem to (mis)understand them in the final acts? Recalling them in Curly's voice but not as the Captain but as a savior, his last charitable act to wipe the ledger of blood clean.

Jimmy doesn't want to see Curly better. He likes feeling useful. He enjoys having Curly watch him and in the same breath, he loathes it. He wants Curly's judgement. He wants Curly's praise. He wants.. Everything that makes Curly Curly.

Curly as a silent observer isn't remarked on often.. Nor is the fact that more than likely, the others heard Curly's sobs of pain from the medbay. But Curly is very conscious, very aware and very alone in his thoughts.

There's a point in which the perspective changes during Swansea's mercy killing—a gift that no one offers Curly—and once again, Curly is stuck watching all of his mistakes play out, one after the other. Unable to do anything but laugh.

But is it a laugh or a sob? Jimmy doesn't care and neither does the player—what's important is the objective: the gun. 739. Click. He steps over Anya's body like it's not even there and runs away.

We don't find out what set Swansea off—maybe Jimmy couldn't help himself and said something about Daisuke or Anya that blamed them. Maybe it was something else. Curly watches on. Helplessly.

There's something to be said about the black screens and the static that occurs when Jimmy hurts Curly or kills Swansea—like he's cutting the memory off before the guilt can get to him. And it's the same thing I'd like to bring up about Curly's voice. Yes, it takes a lot to speak without lips.. Or from what it looks like a tongue.. But there are more noises Curly can make. Noises that can refute Jimmy.

And in the same way that he's at the precipice of something so terrifying he keeps returning to the same spot that's slowly killing him, he's learned that fighting is useless.

It's 2 months after the crash when see Jimmy's perspective again, after all. And while Anya's requests for help seem to be new.. Who's to say that the beatings are?

The worse type of abuse is the type that leaves no bruises. After all, Curly cries all the time in pain.. What's the difference here?

To cycle back to my original point in this.. I don't see a lot of people consider Post-Crash Curly's living hell as another facet of Jimmy's abuse going unchecked by the people around him as anything other than comeuppance. As Karma. And it's the coldest take I've seen from the fandom so far. Allow me to reheat it up for you: disability so severe that you must rely on others is not divine punishment. It's not just desserts. Just as disabled people are your infantilazed, idealized, inspirational iron woobie that can take pain and push through it.. They are also not being punished by the divine. They are humans and sometimes shit just happens and it sucks.

The way that Jimmy views Post-Crash Curly as a saving prop.. Proof that he can indeed fix it.. is so normalized that as the audience, it can be something that you aim to achieve–one of the earliest and easiest achievements you can get is opening and closing Curly's mouth like a mannequin.

There's a relief that we share when Curly shuts up. There's a shutdown in empathy when Jimmy brutalizes him. Up until we can no longer look away.

Because Jimmy can no longer look away. And that is the chilling part of all this. Jimmy gets away with it—all of it—because of the crew's inability to overcome their own apathetic acceptance of the monster in their midst.

Just like most people accept the main character from Lolita as a gentleman, the crew accepts Jimmy as a guy. A little rough and short-tempered but what do you expect from blue collar work? Hold your nose, it'll be over in a year. In 8 months. In 10. Soon. It'll be over soon.

I can't help but worry if Jimmy weren't so bad at being likable and if he were even a smidgen of the charismatic mastermind, he so clearly wants to be..

We'd have another Valentino on our hands.

Mouthwashing is a horror that I can't help but devour. FEAST, indeed.

[thrashkink-coven]

I wasn’t even going to post this, because I didn’t want to contribute to some of the anxieties that you all are having about the election, but when I spoke to Lord Lucifer about it yesterday, he got really quiet.

“Why do you ask? What does it change?”

well it changes a whole lot. Project 2025 is extremely concerning. Of course it matters.

But when I looked at him, his eyes communicated something incredibly intense. I could see flames and hear anguish.

“I have never seen a group of slaves so concerned with its master’s mythology”

and damn that hit me. The way we treat politicians as Gods, and politics as mythology, how we allow it to inform our sense of self and morality, when did we all get so comfortable with that?

“Tomorrow the elites will decide who the new commander is. They will dictate who’s ideas become law, and who must obeyed. One day, when all is lost, we will turn around and wonder why we ever cared about law, why we ever allowed people to dictate our movements, why we ever acted as audience to this drag show. For reasons xy and z , reasons that even you do not understand, there is a new chief, a new law, something new to obey, because the people refuse to make their own law. They refuse to be their own Gods, they cannot write their own myths, so they accept what they are told. How the heavens, or government, acts, is absolute and unknowable. It’s been so long since they tasted freedom, they don’t know what it tastes like anymore. I want you to accept that the world is what it is. Disregard this illusion that things have suddenly, or will suddenly change. Disregard the idea that this timeless battle will resolve through politics. You’ve been fighting and will be fighting for the rest of your life. Who wins? I don’t care. The fight won’t happen in the polls. It doesn’t transform based on these myths. You will have the law, the one that even they do not obey, and they will have the land.

But the enemy has always been the same, the battle has always been the same, since the very beginning, no matter how many times the myth is rewritten. Be it he or she who sits on the throne, there is still throne, you are still slave. When slaves reconnected with their Gods, understood that they were divine, as worthy as kings, they began to recreate their mythology and that began to recreate their idea of law. You want freedom? You crave liberation? Stop thinking like a slave. Stop hoping that master will be kind. Stop buying into the lie that the power exists only in the hands of others. They are not the only ones capable of creating law, they are not the only ones capable of changing minds. America is the perfect embodiment of the doctrine of supremacy who wraps itself in the false flag of freedom. True freedom starts in the mind, extends to the community, and embraces humanity with love. Reinvent the mythology, write one in which all people are Gods, and all power is in all the people. These kings are not kings without their myths and stories, they have no power beyond the power you all give them. I don’t care what the kings are doing, they aren’t real. I care about you and all your kin, and that’s truly all you should care about too.”

…. so voting is useless?

“Imagine if you knew and loved everyone in your community, and you all got together once a month to compile your assets and equitably distributed them. Imagine if you all knew what was going wrong and worked together to fix it. Imagine if you compromised with each other, and found a way to coexist peacefully. Is such a thing truly impossible? Do you even know your neighbour’s name? Do you even care about the man sleeping outside? Could you love them? Could you try?”

[bouncehousedemons]

To all of my friends across the pond, I am so incredibly sorry. This situation is incomprehensibly frightening. Please know I am here for you, and I hope you find a moment in your day today to experience some peace, whatever that looks like for you.

To everyone who voted Trump, you’ll get yours. You chose hate, and I hope that when you realise, as a result of all the causes you have chosen to ignore, there is no one left to fight for yours, that you know you have no one to blame but yourself.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Say What You Wanna Say

Summary: Y/N is incredibly nervous to tell her dad she's Bi. How will he react?

Pairings: Teen!Reader x Dean (Non romantic pairing)

Warnings: None. Some angst. Mostly fluff. Coming out. Bisexual reader. Papa!dean.

Word Count: 1,212

A/N: About a week ago I received this anonymous ask for a fic about Dean's daughter telling him she's Bi. I was happy to write it, but warned the lovely anon that it might take a while for inspiration to hit as my muses have been off lately and not playing nice.

Then this morning I got this response from them, and it absolutely charged my brain for this fic and it just came pouring out. More proof that #kind words fuel authors.

On a slightly separate note, I just wanna thank everyone who's been so kind to me regarding my creativity stall and mental health hiccups. All your words (whether in the form of well-wishes or kind comments on fics!) have made a difference, and they are so very appreciated.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fluffy fic. To the lovely anon who requested this - I hope it's what you were looking for. I went with a teen reader around 17 or 18 (she mentions choosing a college) just because it felt right for me in the story. But feel free to age her up or down as you'd like. Thanks for jump-starting my creative juices. (Sorry I said juices.)

Dean One Shots || Dean Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Y/N walked into the library to see her dad bent over a massive, old, leatherbound book. At least, she hoped it was leather. You never could tell with books in the bunker. One time when she was six she’d managed to sneak her way into the shelves in Room 7B and picked up a harmless looking book. Turned out to be a cursed book bound in dragonskin and she'd exhaled flames for a full day before her Auntie Rowena had gotten there to undo the curse.

She never went wandering through the shelves again.

But the book her dad was reading seemed innocuous enough, even though it had him scowling darkly at whatever he was reading. She couldn’t tell if he was angry, annoyed, or just concentrating. That scowl could mean a few things. The problem was, the conversation she had planned sort of called for him to be in a decent mood.

She considered turning around and coming back when she had a better read on his frame of mind, but just then Dean’s hunter senses kicked in and he looked up and caught her standing in the doorway.

She waved a little lamely. “Hey Dad.”

He grunted at her and went back to scowling at the book. 

She took a few steps into the library. “Something in there that’s bothering you?”

Dean shook his head. “No, it’s just pissing me off cause it’s not helping me figure out…” He trailed off and took another, closer, look at a sentence, skimming his finger along the page before shaking his head again and slamming the book closed. 

“Whatever, piece of shit.” He said, rubbing a hand down his face and then looking at Y/N. “What’s up kid?”

But Y/N was convinced now wasn’t a good time and she just waved at him dismissively. “No, nothing important. You’re obviously busy. We can talk later.” 

She turned to leave, but froze in the doorway when her dad’s deep voice called out to her.

“Hey! Nope. Stop. Turn.”

Y/N slowly turned back to face him to see he’d leaned back in his chair slightly and folded his arms over his chest. He lifted one hand to point at the chair beside him, turning slightly towards it.

“Sit. Talk.”

Y/N opened her mouth to once again tell him they’d talk later, but his raised eyebrow brooked no argument and told her she wasn’t getting away without talking to him. She contemplated making up something else to talk to him about. Something that wasn’t as likely to send him into a tailspin, but it wouldn’t work. Her dad saw through her lies way too easily. 

Nope. This was happening.

She walked over slowly to sit down beside him, tucking her feet up under her on the chair and twisting her hands in her lap. When she hesitated to speak, Dean unfolded his arms and leaned forward slightly.

“Talk to me, kiddo. What’s going on?”

Y/N shrugged. God, I don’t know how to start this conversation, she thought.

But she could see her dad’s scowl turning to worry in his bright green eyes which made her feel guilty so she smiled at him. It didn’t make the worry leave his gaze, but he offered a small smile back.

“Are you okay, baby? Did something happen at school? Did someone do something? Do I need to kick the shit out of someone?”

Y/N chuckled and shook her head. “No, Dad. School’s good. It’s fine.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, are you…are you changing your mind about going to Kansas State? Cause we talked about this, and I thought we-”

Y/N cut him off, shaking her head and waving her hands back and forth. “No, no, nothing like that. It’s not…it’s nothing with school. Look, just…” She cleared her throat. “Let me just try to say it, okay?”

Dean’s eyebrows settled back into a frown, the little double line of worry staying etched between them. He shrugged. “Okay, baby.”

His casual use of that endearment brought a dampness to her eyes. God, I hope I’m still his baby when this is done. She thought.

She took a deep breath. “So, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this for a while now, a couple of months anyway, but I’ve just…I didn’t really know how to bring it up. I mean, I think, it’s actually something I’ve wanted to talk about for a couple of years, but I just kept denying it. But I can’t anymore, I can’t just pretend, and I don’t wanna and…”

She trailed off slightly, looking up at her dad and seeing only confusion and concern in his eyes. She exhaled the words out quickly.

“I’m bisexual.”

She watched understanding erupt in her dad’s expression as his eyes widened and his mouth slackened. He stared at her, just blinking for a few seconds and then he nodded slowly.

“Wow. That’s…that is not what I was expecting to hear.”

Y/N swallowed over and over, nervousness making her stomach ache. She was ready for the barrage of questions and possible challenges that were bound to come her way.

So, she was slightly thrown when he took a deep breath and spoke one word.

“Okay.” He said with one corner of his mouth lifted.

It was her turn to frown. “Okay?

His half smile turned into a full one. “Yeah, okay.”

“What does that mean?” Y/N asked with confusion.

Dean chuckled. “It means what it always means, kiddo.”

“So, okay…like, you’re fine with this? You don’t have…I don’t know, questions or arguments. This doesn’t bother you? I was expecting a bit of caveman in your response, to be honest. I mean, it doesn’t make you feel weird, or like…I don’t know…bug you?”

Dean pushed out his lips and raised his shoulders in a shrug. “Hey kid, I’m Gen-X, nothing bugs us.” 

Y/N scoffed and he laughed and conceded. “No, I don’t know, maybe if you’d told me twenty years ago, I wouldn’t have known what to do. Or it might have felt weird to me, or made me uncomfortable or awkward or something. But I learned a long time ago to let people be who they are, and I especially want you to be just exactly who you are. You’re an incredible kid, which means every part of you is incredible.”

He leaned forward and cupped her cheek. “Seriously, baby. I’m really glad you told me, and if you’re happy, I’m happy.” He kissed her forehead and she threw her arms around his neck and held on for dear life, tears of relief and happiness flowing. 

“Thank you, Daddy.” She whispered.

When she pulled away, he held the back of her head in his big palm, the way he had when she was little. “Love you, kid.” He said gruffly.

“I love you too, Dad.” 

His eyes were a little watery as he sat back in his chair and cleared his throat. “And, you know, if you end up dating a chick, or marrying her, that’s one less asshole I have to punch in the jaw as a warning not to mess with you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and chuckled. “That’s very progressive, Dad.”

Dean smiled brightly. “What? You gotta allow me a little bit of caveman.”

@lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused @jzackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

@arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry @ladysparkles78 @kr804573

@whimsyfinny @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

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@eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @stoneyggirl2

@fanfic-n-tabulous @traiitorjoe @lastcallatrockysbar @b3autyfuld1sast3r

[antisociiaal]

I understand everyone has their own political views which is their right, but when your political views conflict with the HUMAN RIGHTS of another human being that is unacceptable to me. I may be Canadian but in the last two days I have mourned the results of the USA election for all of the people that will be affected, especially for the women, LGBTQ+, children and minorities that will be disproportionately affected by his second Presidential term.

If you look at his policies, his beliefs, and agree with this man, a man who is not only a convicted felon, but a rapist, misogynist, racist, transphobic, homophobic, hateful individual then I would ask you to do some critical thinking.

We have a federal election here in Canada next October. I am a bisexual woman with an incredibly diverse group of people I am lucky enough to call my friends. I hope that when the next election happens I will not have to mourn my rights too.

[willsimpforanyone]

Hello! I'm not sure if you are taking requests right now, but I'd you are could you do something with a daughter of medusa who us almost or fully blind and everyone avoids her except for percy who has a crush on her? Can end however ypu would like :).

And remember to take of yourself and drink water!!! ❤️

thank u my lovely <3 hope u enjoy

i do have bad vision but i am not blind, so i apologise for inaccuracies,

-----------------------------

medusa was blessed with a daughter

gorgeously thick, curly hair, strong as hell, brought up by your mother as best she could

she was so happy when you opened your eyes as a baby and no one you looked at turned to stone

her curse was not yours!

it only took a moment for her to realise her curse had a different effect on you

you were not cursed, but as a side effect of being medusa's child, you were almost completely blind

growing up, you never realised there was anything too different about you

why would you? your mother raised you and she kept her eyes covered most of the time, she knew how to live as a blind woman in a seeing world

things got worse as you got older, and around 10 years old is when it got really bad

the monsters were relentless, and even medusa hiding you away didn't seem to help with the nightmares

so, when you were 12, she brought you to the camp

chiron was hesitant, but knew you meant no harm - you were a scared, lonely kid, like so many others before you

kinda for the first time, you were interacting with people who could see

it wasn't hard to guess who your mother was, and apparently that was enough for the other kids to reject you immediately

you learned to wear sunglasses or some kind of fabric over your eyes, otherwise some kid would start screaming

the first couple years of teenhood were rough

of course. you learned to live with it

you learned to become incredibly spacially aware, to be able to walk into a room and know exactly how many people there were and where they were standing

there were some kids who were alright, some from the athena cabin were civil despite their mom being the one who cursed yours

occasionally, though, there was a kid called percy

a son of posiden, who you were suitably wary enough of (again, considering the story)

he came to camp a little before you did, and was off on a quest when you actually arrived

it was an odd introduction

"hi, i'm percy, i kinda killed your mom"

you had shrugged, fingers still trailing over the book in front of you

"i know. she sent me an iris message from the underworld. it's not the first time someone's killed her, she'll be back in a few days"

the silence that followed was one of awkward expectation, and you snorted a laugh. "dude, chill out, i don't care anymore"

he'd hesitantly accepted your acceptance and had left, and you'd thought that would be the end of it

to your surprise, he would come back and talk

a friendship blossomed over the next couple years, something that was new to you

you genuinely liked him

he didn't ask questions about being blind all the time, he didn't scream when your sunglasses slipped down your nose, he seemed to automatically let you know what he was doing and where he was in your space

with him came grover, the somewhat nervous satyr who calmed down once annabeth, percy's other friend, slapped the back of his head when he asked if your hair was just a bunch very thin snakes

this was more friends than you'd had in your life, and it was kind of incredible

annabeth got some books in greek braille, and together you discovered that it was easier for you to read - the ancient greek hardwire was still very much present in your brain, even if you couldn't see the letters

percy, however, went the extra mile every time

every activity you were hesitant about, he was right there with you, describing the new areas, offering to help but never touching you or giving advice unless you asked first

any time something changed with the camp, whether it was a part of the forest or the layout of the camp itself, he'd go with you to explore the differences to change the mental map you had in your head

late nights were reserved for sitting together around a campfire, maybe with grover and annabeth, maybe not

but they were a time for you to ask questions instead

what colour were the new swords? what does bronze look like? is the red of the strawberries as sweet as they taste?

he would answer as best he can, trying to explain from every angle, like trying not to use other colours to explain another colour

one night, in your fourth year of camp, you got up the courage to ask him the question you'd been wanting to ask him forever

"percy? what do i look like?"

there was a pause, and you knew he had turned to look at you by the rustling of his hair

...a minute passes, and you shift in your seat

"you don't have to tell me, it's fine, forget i asked-"

"no!"

he interrupts you, blurting out a protest a little louder than he intended

he continues, clearing his throat

"no, i just- would it be okay if you took your sunglasses off? so i can give you the best description?"

in answer, you slipped off your sunglasses, hanging them in the neck of your t-shirt

all you could see was a faint warm, orange-yellow glow from the fire

percy takes a breath

"okay, here goes- you're beautiful. i-i know that isn't much but... you look warm. like the feeling of coming back to our cabin at the end of a really good day, tired but happy, and everything is quiet and calm and cosy and you know you're gonna sleep so good. you look like sunsets over the sea, like someone has managed to set the horizon on fire but, y'know. less dangerous than setting fire to things."

you laugh, subconsciously leaning against his shoulder with your heart trying to keep pace with the butterflies in your stomach

"yeah? i look warm?"

his voice is almost a whisper

"right now, yeah. the firelight is reaching out over the grass to touch you, preferring to have you warm than the trees around us. if we were regular teenagers, we could be telling scary stories"

i rest my hand, palm up, on his knee, a silent way of telling him to give me his hand

he does so, and i link our fingers together tightly, a 'thank you' that we don't need to hear

"percy?"

"yeah?"

"what do you look like right now?"

another pause, and he squeezes my fingers gently

"i think... right now, i look like i'm completely in love with you"

my head lifts from his shoulder, head turned to him as if i need to hear him better, like we aren't side to side, holding hands

"you... what?"

he breathes a shaky laugh, and i feel his hand move to pause just over my cheek

"sorry, that wasn't a great description, but i couldn't think of anything else to say. can i put my hand on your cheek?"

slowly, i nod, feeling his warm palm settle against my skin, his thumb brushing over my cheek

"please say no if you don't want me to," he whispers, voice nervous but also filled with hope

"but can i please kiss you?"

i don't need to be able to see to know how big he smiles when i say "yes"

------------------------

i hope that was okay? i tried my best, if anyone has an issue with it or wants me to correct something, let me know!

[ttjisung]

BOSS k. jungwoo

kim jungwoo x fem!reader ᡣ𐭩 ceo au written imagine!

"i became the boss for you."

preview wc: 1.4k ᥫ᭡ official wc: ?

in which everyone fears your boss, kim jungwoo, and so do you, yet your reason feels more personal than the rest.

Thinking about how much I love Jungwoo's hair in the BOSS music video which stemmed to a fanfic about him. I'll be releasing the full version soon! Once it's out, I'll link it below. Content warnings will be posted on the actual released version. Hope you guys enjoy the preview <3

FULL VERSION HERE

For as long as you could remember, you had always heard everybody complain about their jobs. As a child, it was your parents raving about another long night shift. As a teenager, it was your friends ranting about getting fired from Wendy’s for stealing a small order of fries. It simply appeared to be in human nature to have distaste towards your job. None of what you heard had prepared you for the disdain you’d feel entering your first official office job, though. 

You had been miraculously hired as a secretary for a CEO of one of the largest companies in the country, which came as a shock to all of your friends considering the job was incredibly strict about who they’d hire. There were always rumors roaming around about the strict boss who everyone either feared or kissed up to, scaring you slightly yet bills were due and you had no other option than to clock in.

The first day was possibly one of the worst of your life, gaining stares and whispers for being the newbie. You had people below your label asking you to make them a coffee, or shutting the elevator on you when you obviously were running to catch it. It was all incredibly exhausting and the only thing motivating you was the thought of clocking out and crying to your cat while drinking a glass of wine, yet this fantasy was also shut down immediately as you were requested to meet the CEO after hours. 

Your nerves were tame at first, possibly from the misery numbing your mind, yet it spiked as you stood outside his door, stalling as you held the handle for two minutes straight. Eventually deciding to get this done with, you opened the door and stepped in. The shiny nameplate that read out Kim Jungwoo taunted you as you shifted closer to where he was. His figure sat at his obnoxiously huge chair, staring down at his desk in a manner that covered his face with both shadows and his own hair. Nonetheless, his stance was intimidating and you wanted to do nothing but submit your two-week notice and run away. Stepping into the room felt like walking straight into a predator’s cave, and the noise of the door closing behind you added to the overwhelming emotion. The noise it made caused you to flinch, and it was then that he finally looked up to observe you. 

Had he not been someone with the power of evicting you straight out of your small apartment with one snap of his fingers, you would’ve swooned. He was beautiful, and it was rare for you to say that about a man. His lips were plump, and you almost wondered if he had put lip gloss on prior to your meeting, considering they were shinier than yours have ever been. His nose could be someone’s inspiration for a nose-job, and if his eyes weren't sharply staring at you, you would compare them to that of a puppy. 

Nothing about him screamed nice though, and the clearing of his throat as he noted your dazed look reminded you that he was indeed not a puppy, and was actually your boss. Immediately straightening out your posture and paying him your attention, you silently scolded yourself for possibly angering him. 

“Do you know why you’re here?” His voice engulfed the room, becoming another trait of his that you’d be envious of, yet this time you knew not to dissociate, shaking your head, “No, sir.” “Hmmm… You see, I wanted to meet our newest employee.” His words were stern, and his eyes remained coldly locked onto yours, forcing eye-contact that made you uncomfortable. Noticing your silence at his words, he tilted his head as if he was challenging you. “What’s your name?” “I-It’s Y/n. Y/n L/n, sir.” You cursed yourself out for stuttering; the last thing you wanted was for him to sense the fear in your wobbly voice. You straighten your posture once more, realizing you had subconsciously curled into yourself as a defense mechanism. “Well, Y/n, I have to say I’m impressed,” you almost thanked him, yet the words that continued made you falter, “One day and you’re already seemingly disliked by your fellow workers. Tell me why.”  “I’m… Not quite sure actually, sir.” For the first time since you had met him, his facial expression changed, his lip shifting to a grin, bunny-esque teeth peaking out onto his lips and his eyes staring at you with an intense look, yet it felt different. “It’s ‘cause you’re new. Always happens, doesn’t it?” You had no clue as this was your first job.

“Anyway, Y/n. The truth is, I wanted to meet you because I was the one who chose to hire you.” You choked slightly as his words, looking at him with confusion obviously etched on your face that made him laugh out lightly, the sound shocking you further. He let out a sigh before standing up and walking up to you, as you had failed to sit on the chair that was put in front of his desk. “I saw your resume, which I must say was impressive, yet this is your first job. Interesting, right? That’s why they all hate you. It’s jealousy, Y/n.” The way he kept repeating your first name felt informal and made you a bit nervous, but you nodded to his words, not wanting to get on his bad side. “Thank you, sir. For umm… Hiring me. I’m very grateful-” “Save all that. I don’t need to hear it. It gets tiring after the hundredth person or so.” Nodding again, you closed your mouth and chose to not answer again unless asked to. “Wanna know why I hired you, Y/n?” “Yes, sir.” “Sure, your resume is something to rave over, although you had little to no experience. Yet, the reason I hired you was because…” He drew out his words, motioning you to come closer with his hand, and you realized his grin had become teasing, almost cheeky like a little kid planning something evil. You were already closer to him than you wanted to be, yet his motion forced you to step closer, increasing your anxiety. Leaning into you, he whispered his words into your ear as if it was a secret to tell. “I have a thing for pretty women in power.” 

Your face felt like it was on fire and shock consumed you at his bold words, considering you could probably file a complaint about his actions and have him go through several consequences, yet it was almost as if you had completely missed what he had said, looking up at him with a mouth wide open. Not only was the sentence incredibly inappropriate, his growing smile piled more unease onto you. “Wh… What?” Was all you could let out, causing him to laugh. His body moved away from yours, returning to his seat. “That would be all, Y/n. It was nice meeting you.” He waved at you from where he sat, his eyes now wearing a fuzzy infatuated look, almost as if you were his boss and he was the worker licking your shoes. The whole scenario gave you whiplash, from his flirty words to his cheeky expression. It was too much for you to handle, already worn down from a hard day, yet the words that followed his only served to add to the stress. “And call me Jungwoo, not sir. Although I like how it sounds from you, I want us to be more familiar.” You were going to faint, you were sure of it.

Walking out of his office, you had to pinch yourself several times to make sure what had occurred was reality, and not an odd figment of your imagination after watching too many work based K-dramas. Flinching at the pain from your fingers twisting your skin, you came to the horrid conclusion that what he said was indeed real, and you were going to have to face him every day for the rest of your employed life. After an hour of debriefing the situation with your cat once you arrived home, you decided to fall asleep as it was extremely late. Your last thought before your head fell onto your pillow and your eyes closed was a confirmation to the accredited conception you had known your whole life. Bosses truly were the worst thing to exist.

a/n: this is for the anon who has been asking for a jungwoo fic ^_^ don't worry i'm still releasing a full series for him after i finish my smaus but that'll take bitttt so i decided to write a one-shot instead for now :3 boss jungwoo save me NOW!

leave a note or message me to be added to the taglist once it comes out c:

[perpetualprocrastinationisme]

So, I'm only replying like this in a reblog because I want this all to be in one place and not broken up in a bunch of different comments.

But this post is, firstly, a joke and not a hardcore theological stance. I did not post this to be like, Paul only wrote this because he hated sex and it's an unholy sin if anyone ever does have it. I just think it is very important for us to be able to joke about stuff like this as Christians because I honestly think Jesus was the type of person that would joke around and have fun. He was a living, breathing human that experienced the joy of laughing with others. If we aren't able to joke and be warm like this, then what do outsiders see when they look at us? Do they see Jesus (who I am 100% sure was the warmest person that will ever step foot on this planet)? Or do they see a bunch of cold, unwelcoming people who have no joy?

And also, I 100% agree with you that 1 Corinthians 7 is about self control. Not only that, but it is stated in a very profound way that ensures honor is part of marriage as much as possible. However, I also 100% believe that the way 1 Corinthians 7:8-9 is written makes me laugh EVERY time (and I am not ashamed of that).

So I say to those who aren't married and to widows - it's better to stay unmarried, just as I am. But if they can't control themselves, they should go ahead and marry. It's best to marry than to burn with lust. - 1 Corinthians 7:8-9 NLT

Like, I'm sorry, but "if they can't control themselves" and "best to marry than to burn with lust"? That's such a funny way to put it which makes me smile every single time. It does not make me appreciate the importance of it less, it just gives me a brief moment of joy.

And secondly, the theory that Paul was betrothed is most likely true and very plausible. However, it is not something that we will ever be able to 100% prove, because we just don't have definite proof of that. So, I see no harm in pondering Paul through an aroace lens, it is actually very healing for me. I grew up and still live in a church that very much taught me that my only purpose, the only way that I could serve God most truly, was to marry and have kids. Which was heartbreaking, because the one thing in the world that I want to do more than anything else is to serve the Lord with my entire life. However, I've just never had even the tiniest of desire to get married. So, what? Is there just something wrong with me and I'm destined to either be incredibly unhappy in a marriage or alternatively just never serve God? That's what I believed for a long time, sadly.

But then I read verses like this in 1 Corinthians 7:

But I wish everyone were single, just as I am. Yet each person has a special gift from God, of one kind or another. -1 Corinthians 7:7

Like, this way that I feel is actually a special gift from God? And Paul, one of the greatest figures in the Bible, felt the same way as I do? That is so powerful, it truly is. Knowing that the way I am can actually be an asset for the Lord and His kingdom. Knowing that my life won't be wasted and can actually just be used all the more for His purpose. Marriage is an incredibly beautiful thing, it's just not for me. And that's ok.

So, yeah. Sorry, for replying like this and for making it so long. I just like having dialogue with fellow Christians, especially on Tumblr. I truly hope you are having an incredible day.

@litostaves

I think we all need to appreciate just how funny the Bible is sometimes because I was reading 1 Corinthians 7 yesterday and Paul was literally like:

“It’s really best if you all never have romantic partners or sex and just devote yourselves entirely to God. But since y’all WEIRDOS can’t seem to CONTROL YOURSELVES, I guess it’s alright if you do it honorably with one person *cue Paul rolling his eyes*.”

Paul was an aroace king and nobody will ever be able to convince me otherwise.