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thekisforkeats · 4 years ago

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Love Languages

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T probably for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set post-MAG 22, with a coda post-MAG 159. Everyone is ND and everyone is trans because that’s just how my personal S1 Archives gang rolls.

CWs: Mentions of ableism and Martin’s mother. I’d say canon-typical worms but the worms don’t really come up except in passing.

I do not know anything about BSL, so I did not try to describe the signs.

Summary: A love language is not just about how you best show love and affection; it is also about the ways you best receive love and affection. And so, for someone like Martin, who shows love by going out of his way to help others, someone going out of their way to help him, well. What better way for him to realize just how loved he is?

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The first time Martin went completely non-verbal after starting work in the Archives, it was the morning after giving Jon the statement about Jane Prentiss.

It wasn’t a surprising development, really. Martin didn’t go fully non-verbal that often, but when he did it was almost always a thing that started in the morning and lasted most of the day. Sometimes it wore off by the time he went to bed, sometimes it lasted until the next morning.

After his mother’s diagnosis, he’d been unable to speak for an entire week. That hadn’t gone over well--as much as his mother wanted him to be quiet, she didn’t like the “silent treatment,” as she called it.

Martin hated that she’d called it that, as though his non-verbal episodes were anything he did on purpose. Some days talking just felt like a chore; those days he could get by only forcing words out when he had to. But some days, the worst days, he just couldn’t talk. He could understand other people just fine, he could make noises, sometimes he could even hum. And he could definitely read and write. But speaking words, aloud? No. He could not speak, on these days, however much he may have wanted to.

As Martin grew older and learned more about himself, he learned words and reasons and coping mechanisms. He realized that some of the problem came from dysphoria and the longer he was on hormones the less often it happened. He realized that he was autistic (even if he never got diagnosed), and learned how to handle the episodes that still occurred. He took sign languages classes because it was a good and useful thing to know regardless, to be able to communicate with more people.

As many Deaf people had learned before Martin, he’d found himself in plenty of situations when nobody around him knew BSL, so he’d found a phone app that let him type out things he wanted to say and repeated them in a tinny, mechanical voice. Feminine, but he found it didn’t cause dysphoria; it wasn’t his voice. It was the app speaking for him, a robot lady translating his words.

Martin was fairly certain he was going to need the robot lady to speak for him today, and he was dreading the whole idea. The app got him a range of reactions from scorn to derision to faux sympathy. The last time he’d done so at work, the Institute library staff had regarded him with such pity that he’d called in sick the two other times it had happened since.

He’d woken early, because he was always awake fairly early, to ensure he looked presentable and got to work on time. He did not want Jonathan “Crisply Professional At All Times” Sims giving him that look again. The particular look that was “I highly disapprove of your sartorial choices but I’m not going to get into it right now because I have so very much else to do. Nonetheless, if I could fire you for what you’re wearing I would.”

Jon had a lot of looks. Martin fervently wished he could stop categorizing them; he very much disliked his boss, and very much wanted to stop thinking about Jon quite as much as he did.

Jon was attractive, that much Martin had noticed the first day he’d come in, with a jawline Martin would’ve loved to trace with his fingers, eyes sharp and deep and intelligent, salt-and-pepper hair that Martin would have tangled his fingers in gladly.

Except, of course, that Jon was also a prick who didn’t like Martin one bit and made that very clear. He’d put down on record that he thought Martin would “contribute nothing but delays.” Martin was not such a sucker for punishment that he would put up with someone who hated him just for a pretty face. The tiny potential blossom of a crush had been, well, crushed five seconds after it had poked its head above ground, by Jon’s declaration that he could dismiss Martin if he didn’t resolve the “dog situation” immediately.

Martin counted his lucky stars every day that Jon had not, in fact, dismissed him, despite having had to deal with a doggy mess. The luck was really in having Tim around, Martin figured; Jon actually seemed fond of Tim, and the other man had managed to smooth the entire situation over.

Martin had fallen asleep last night thinking about the new look Jon had given him yesterday: concerned. Truly, genuinely concerned, which had rather taken Martin aback. He’d been certain Jon wouldn’t believe him, would scoff and roll his eyes at the entire statement, and instead he’d just looked… concerned.

And then Jon had offered Martin the cot that he’d woken up in this morning.

It wasn’t the look of concern that had Martin non-verbal, though; of that he was certain. It was the stress of the last two weeks, and dumping out the statement yesterday, and all the whirl of figuring out how to live in the Archives. Jon’s insistence on going with him to pick up basics with a toothbrush at the convenience store, and then coming back to be sure he was okay. Jon finding clean sheets and discussing how he’d do his laundry. Jon had expensed clothing bought online to the Institute, including next-day shipping, because he’d “lost access to his flat and thus his wardrobe in the line of duty.” It had all been bewildering and overwhelming and it was no real surprise that Martin was in the state he found himself when he woke.

Martin had known as soon as he’d opened his eyes. It was just there, the feeling of nope can’t talk today. He’d pulled on his binder and the same clothing he’d worn the day before and then fumbled around for his phone. Which… he didn’t have. The damn worm-hive-lady had stolen it from him. Well, shit.

He managed to avoid having to figure out how to talk while he went out to get breakfast, just pointing at a scone in the display and smiling at the guy behind the counter as if he wasn’t secretly irritated by the price of everything in Chelsea. By the time Martin got back, Jon was already in his office, so thank God he’d avoided that awkward interaction. He went to make himself tea, and had his breakfast in the breakroom, and brushed his teeth, and then went to get started on…

Wait. He didn’t even know what they were working on right now.

Well, he wasn’t going to bother Jon about it; however nice he’d been last night it surely must have worn off by now, and Martin had no interest in summoning one of his boss’ looks this early in the morning. Normally he’d still be on his commute at this hour.

After a moment’s thought, he went to go see what they’d recorded in his absence, and soon had a stack of statements on his desk. They’d gotten through five statements in the two weeks he’d been gone. Maybe Jon was right. Maybe Martin did contribute “nothing but delays.”

Pushing the thought aside, Martin focused on listening to the tapes, and was just finishing up listening to the second half of Father Edwin Burroughs’ statement when Tim came into the shared office the assistants used.

“Hey, you’re in early. You get the email?”

Martin raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

Tim snorted. “Jon claims he’s got something to warn us about, something that ‘won’t parse properly through digital means.’” He rolled his eyes. “Which is Jon-speak for ‘it’s a weird thing and I don’t want to admit it’s a weird thing because I have to keep my skeptic hat on to preserve my self-image.”

Martin chuckled in solidarity, then gestured toward the door to Jon’s office, to indicate that’s where their boss was.

“Not coming?” Tim asked, his own eyebrow raised. When Martin shrugged, he said, “Well, I guess if you didn’t get the email…” Tim also shrugged, then said, “Guess I’d better get it over with. Wish me luck!”

Martin gave him a thumbs up.

When Sasha came in, Martin silently directed her to Jon’s office as well, then heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn’t had to explain being non-verbal at all yet, and it was already nine o’clock. Maybe if he was lucky, Jon would warn them off talking to him and he’d manage to make it the entire day without having to explain the whole “non-verbal” business to anyone he saw on a regular basis.

Alas, it was barely thirty minutes later that Tim and Sasha returned to talk to him, both wearing expressions of mingled concern and guilt. When they spoke it was a flood of the usual, expected platitudes:

“We’re so sorry!”

“We didn’t know!”

“Are you okay??”

And such like.

Martin shrugged and nodded and shook his head in all the right places, and evidently Jon had played them the tape of his statement so he didn’t have to explain it all again (thank God), and he thought maybe, maybe he could even figure out what statement they were working on right now if he just listened to their chatter after they were done with the niceties, but then…

Well. Then Timothy Stoker happened.

Which is to say, Tim actually looked at Martin, and said, “You’re being awfully quiet. You sure you’re okay?”

And then he and Sasha just… sat there, looking at him expectantly.

Martin sighed and reached for a piece of scrap paper and wrote, I’m autistic and sometimes I go non-verbal. Today’s one of those days, but I don’t have my phone anymore, so no communication app.

As he held up the paper so the others could read the words, Martin braced himself for the ensuing reactions. Pity, probably, like those in the Institute library, and he couldn’t even call in sick to avoid it; he’d rather have scorn and derision. At least those reactions were honest.

What he got from them was not pity, however, nor even scorn.

Sasha hummed. “Autism explains a lot, actually. Don’t worry, it’s not a problem.”

Tim grinned and clapped Martin on the shoulder. “Yeah, why didn’t you just say so? It’s fine, you’ve been through an ordeal. And so you know--you’re hardly the only neurodivergent in the Archives.”

Martin blinked at Tim, then wrote: Wait, what? Who…?

“Would you believe me if I said all of us?” Tim said with a grin. “I have ADD, Jon’s… well… he’s Jon, and as for Sasha…”

Sasha sighed in fond exasperation and cut in, “Tim…”

“I contend that you cannot be neurotypical, Ms. James. You fit in too well around here.”

“I am not admitting to anything on Institute property,” Sasha said with aplomb. “And you shouldn't have either, but here we are.” She looked at Martin. “If HR finds out and they give you any trouble, let us know and we’ll figure out what to do.”

Tim, in the meanwhile, pulled out his phone. “Here, go ahead and use mine for now, until your replacement gets here or whatever. What’s the app so I can install it for you?”

Martin’s jaw had dropped open. Tim having ADD made sense; what did he mean about Jon, though? And Sasha? And what did Sasha mean about HR? And… and why were they being so… nice? So… understanding? It wasn’t an act, or at least he didn’t think it was. They seemed… genuinely fine with it. Accepting, even.

It was the strangest thing Martin had experienced in a while, and that was including the worm-riddled woman who’d stood outside his door for two straight weeks.

From there the day just… went on as normal. Tim installed the app on the phone, Martin’s robot phone lady spoke for him, the three of them did their work, and everything was fine.

Until, of course, the nature of their work reared its ugly head. They were discussing the statement of Leanne Denikin, case #0051701, which they had yet to attach a pithy name to; hence the discussion. It had long since become standard practice to attach a name to the “weirder” statements, to make them easier to discuss. (Jon insisted on using the case numbers on tape still, which was annoying, given that was the only place he did that.)

Martin was reading through the statement, and he typed into Tim’s phone: What do you think of this bit? “Be still, for there is strange music.”

What came out of the phone’s speakers, however, was garbled static followed by high-pitched screeching that startled Martin so much he actually dropped the phone.

Jon was walking in just as this happened; he stopped in the doorway, blinking. “What on Earth was that?”

“Martin’s robot lady gave Tim’s phone an aneurysm, I think,” Sasha said, eyeing Martin as well.

Martin scrabbled on the floor for the phone, pulled up the app (which had crashed), and typed, I don’t know what happened!! I was just typing in something from one of the statements!

Jon frowned at him sharply. “What are you doing with Tim’s phone? Are you quite well?”

“No, Martin is not ‘quite well,’” Tim said. “Non-verbal for the day.”

Then Jon did something that stunned Martin: Jon signed at him, specifically, “Do you know sign language?” He spoke aloud as he said this, too, but also raised his eyebrows and gave a quizzical tilt to his head to convey that he was asking a question.

Martin blinked rapidly, then signed back: “Yes, actually. But Tim and Sasha don’t.”

Jon nodded, then said aloud, along with signing, “Why are you non-verbal, exactly?”

“I have autism,” Martin signed. “Sometimes talking is overwhelming and sometimes, especially in stressful situations, I can’t talk at all. Woke up that way today. It should be gone by tomorrow morning.” Why was he explaining so much more to Jon than he had to the others? Maybe just because Jon knew sign, and thus could communicate in a language Martin found much easier than even the typing.

Jon frowned thoughtfully, then nodded again. Then, still speaking and signing both, “What were you typing into your phone?”

“Be still, for there is strange music. From the statement.” Martin gestured to the statement on his desk.

Jon’s frown deepened and he repeated the words. “‘Be still, for there is strange music….’” His expression went slack for a moment, and then he shook himself. “Right. Well. Just… just… I’ll be right back.” Then he abruptly turned and left the room.

Tim and Sasha exchanged bewildered looks. Then Sasha asked, “Do you know what that was all about?”

“I forgot Jon knows BSL,” Tim replied thoughtfully. “Hard of hearing on one side. Not that he’d have agreed to interpret all day or anything.”

Martin shrugged. It’s alright, he typed. This works just fine.

“Well, no, obviously not for some things.” Jon had reappeared as suddenly as he’d disappeared, holding a small brown notebook the size of Martin’s hand. “Here,” he said, thrusting the notebook at Martin. “This will work better, for communicating about the statements. You needn’t use it with me, of course, unless signing is also taxing.”

Martin stared up at Jon. There was an entirely new look on his boss’ face. Not any level of scorn or sneer, nor even concern. He was… nervous. Fidgety. Like he was offering a gift that he was afraid might be rejected.

Something went flip in Martin��s stomach and it was like the entire world turned upside down. Suddenly, in light of Jon’s actions in the last 24 hours, he saw the way his boss had acted toward him the last six months for what it was: a defense mechanism. Armor pulled up around someone fragile and soft and sweet, someone so terrified of rejection that he went about making sure it happened preemptively so he wouldn’t be hurt.

Martin had a sudden, fierce desire to hug Jon and tell him everything would be okay. It was so bewildering a sensation--he didn’t even like the man! At all!--that he just took the notebook with a nod and a signed “Thank you,” eyes still very wide.

Jon nodded in return. “You’re welcome.” He let out a breath, and seemed to relax a little. “Well. Then. I think we’ve found the name for this one, given the way Tim’s phone reacted to those words. ‘Strange Music’ it is.” He straightened himself. “Tim, you said something about the organ reminding you of articles you’ve read…?”

Tim nodded, expression suddenly serious. “Yeah. I’ll see if I can find them for you.”

“Right. Well, then, Sasha, if I could ask you to look through the Archive like we talked about? I’m certain we’ve had a statement from Jane Prentiss.” Jon then turned to Martin. “And if you wouldn’t mind helping me with ‘Schwarzwald?’ You used to work in the library, right?”

Martin was still staring at Jon in confusion, but nodded.

Jon actually smiled at him. Faintly. “Well, then, I’m certain you must know where to find the German history reference books, if you could go grab whatever they’ll let you bring down?”

The strangest thing about it was, Jon seemed sincere. Like he actually believed Martin did, indeed, know the library well enough to just… go up there and find the German history reference books. The faint, confident-in-his-assistant smile was a new look, at least directed at Martin; he’d seen Jon look at Tim and Sasha that way many times before.

Martin’s stomach was doing cartwheels. There were butterflies taking up residence in his intestines. His heart was pounding. How had he never noticed how nice Jon’s smile was? Soft and small, like he was afraid to let it actually take up residence on his face for too long.

Oh, God, oh, no. Martin could not fancy his boss. Jon hated him. Or, well, no, evidence suggested that perhaps Jon did not hate him, but Jon most certainly did not fancy him. This crush had to disappear, just as fast as it had come. This would not do.

He was going to be writing poetry again tonight, wasn’t he? Crap.

“Martin?” Jon’s tone was concerned rather than sharp, and the way Jon said his name made Martin want to sink into the floor.

Instead, he scribbled furiously in the notebook and held it up so all three of the others could see: Yeah, sorry, was just thinking about where that’d be. I’ll bring them down as soon as I find them.

Jon practically beamed at Martin’s use of the notebook and he nodded briskly. “Right! I’ll be in my office when you have the books, then.” He started to turn away.

Martin’s heart went pound pound pound because oh wow Jon was really cute when he let that smile take up more of his face. Throwing caution to the wind, he made a noise to get the other man’s attention.

Jon turned around, quirking a brow. “Yes, Martin?”

Martin signed, “Tea?” He, too, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to indicate the question.

Jon nodded. “Tea would be lovely, yes.” He smiled at Martin for a brief moment, and then suddenly looked flustered. He glared at them all. “Anyway,” he snapped in his ‘boss’ voice, the impact of which was ruined by the flush rising in his cheeks, “there’s still work to be done. So let’s… do it.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left the office.

Had Jon blushed because Martin had offered him tea? Did Jon like his tea that much? Was Martin imagining things? He had to be imagining things. He put his head down on the desk and wrapped his arms over it so he could grab at handfuls of hair. What was happening to him?

Sasha tried to make her voice serious, but couldn't quite manage it past quite clearly holding back giggles. “Mourn for poor Martin, working alone with Jon.” She looked at Tim. “We should call HR preemptively, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

“Nah, I think Jon’s softening on our boy,” Tim said with a laugh. He reached over to ruffle Martin’s hair with one hand while he took his phone back with the other. “Don’t worry, Marto. I told you he’d come around one day.”

Martin looked up at Tim with a stricken, betrayed expression. In the notebook: Is this how you comfort me in my hour of need??

Sasha shook her head. “For once, Tim’s being serious. You weren’t in the room when Jon explained things to us. He’s worried about you, he doesn’t want you to have to leave the Institute alone, he doesn’t want you to have to look for the Prentiss statement in case it’s ‘too traumatic’ for you to run across on your own. He actually asked us if we thought we should avoid any mention of Prentiss altogether in your presence.”

“I told him no,” Tim said. “I hope that was okay. You seem like you’d rather deal with trauma by facing it and figuring it out, rather than avoiding it entirely.”

Matin gaped at them. Really? he wrote. Jon’s… worried about me? Really? As if he hadn’t seen the evidence just now that Jon was, indeed… softening.

Tim gave Martin a very serious look. “I’ve told you before… I’ve known Jon, well, not as long as I’ve known Sasha, but for a long while now. He’s prickly and thorny, even to people he cares about, but that’s a front and I’ve said so. You just didn’t believe me.”

“In Martin’s defense,” Sasha put in, “Jon’s been awfully ‘prickly and thorny’ to him specifically.”

Tim put up a hand. “Oh, I agree. I have had words with our dear boss about the way he treats Martin, largely because I’m one of the few people he might actually listen to.” He looked at Martin. “I don’t want to take the credit, because it’s really been a remarkably fast turnaround, but I’d like to think I helped, a little.”

Martin frowned thoughtfully. Thank you, he wrote. If Jon’s at ‘I can stand Martin’ instead of ‘Martin is the source of all bad that happens in the Archives’ work might be… better than tolerable, for once.

“That’s the spirit!” Tim said with a grin. “Now, then, Jon did say to get back to work…”

Jon gave Martin another of those soft smiles when Martin brought in the tea, a smile which widened on seeing the stack of books he carried in right after. That afternoon, spent sitting and going through books and discussing the Schwarzwald statement, was the first of many they’d spend together, reading and talking and comparing notes.

Martin was feeling verbal again the next morning, but he kept the notebook. If nothing else, it was a good place to jot down poetry. And it came in handy when he found himself unable to speak the morning after Jane Prentiss’ attack on the Archives.

And the morning after Jon confronted him about his CV.

And the morning after Jon disappeared, leaving Jurgen Leitner’s body at his desk. (Martin blamed that on the corridors more than the body, really.)

Funnily enough, he didn’t need it the morning after the Unknowing. But he kept it with him that day all the same, the first gift Jon had ever given him, and one of the few things he had left of him with Jon in a coma.

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When they reached Daisy’s safehouse in Scotland, Martin had hoped he’d somehow manage to dodge the threat of going non-verbal. He’d been the one to drive the car, over Jon’s protests; it was something to focus on, to keep him remembering he was alive and real. He’d clutched the wheel and driven north north north with Jon giving directions in the passenger seat.

Martin had finally figured out that it was the chance to stop and think about trauma that led to his being non-verbal, which was why it was almost always a thing that hit in the morning. Adrenaline would keep him running after a stressful event, and then he’d carry himself through the rest of the day trying to clean up whatever mess had been caused. But sleep was enough for his body and brain to both tell him to stop, to process, to deal with whatever he’d run into.

It was possible, in hindsight, that he’d gone non-verbal more than once since the Unknowing and just hadn’t noticed because he’d been barely interacting with anyone. He’d certainly had a bad bout the morning after his mother’s funeral, dealing with so much misgendering and fake smiles. And there had been more than enough trauma to try to process in the past year, so it must have happened before.

He’d just really, really hoped it wouldn’t now, because he didn’t want to put Jon through that. (Why he thought he was putting Jon through anything he didn’t really want to examine. It made him feel Lonely, and that was bad.)

At any rate, the realization of why he went non-verbal had led to him keeping busy in order to hold it off, in order to hold himself together. So he drove, and he puttered about the cabin poking into cupboards, and he talked to Jon, and he talked to the shop lady in the village, and he brought back food and made dinner with Jon, and everything was good and fine.

And then he woke up the next morning, in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, and he could not speak.

There was the smell of bacon and eggs and pancakes cooking, and Martin made his bleary way out into the main room of the cabin and peered at Jon, already up and dressed and cooking.

His boyfriend turned to look at him and smiled, one of those soft smiles Martin had come to love so much. “Sleep well?”

"Not really,” Martin signed. “I mean…” He gestured at his throat.

Jon nodded. “I figured you might feel that way this morning. I, uhh… hold on a moment, I need to….” He grabbed the pan of bacon and moved it off the heat, pulled a pancake off the griddle and deposited it on a plate, then turned off the stove and went to poke around in one of the bags.

Martin chuckled fondly. “What’re you looking for?”

Jon was still digging through his bag. “When I was grabbing essentials at the store, back in London, I was thinking, you’ve been through a lot, and the notebook I gave you before must be full if you even have it anymore. I know you were writing poetry in it, and… oh, here we go.”

Jon came up with another small notebook. This one was not plain and brown, the way the first one he’d gifted Martin all those years ago had been. This one was black, and had silvery stars on its cover that, as Jon held out the book and thus tilted it through the light, shimmered into rainbows.

“Just in case, you know, the shop lady doesn’t know BSL.”

Martin blinked at the notebook.

“It, uhh… I know it’s not your usual style,” Jon said, his voice suddenly nervous. He was looking down at the notebook as he spoke, instead of at Martin. “Not… retro. But… I saw it and I thought of you.” He paused. “That tape, where you were talking to Simon Fairchild. He talked about the ‘cosmic scale,’ and how we’ve never even been alive on that time frame, and you said… what was it? You said, ‘I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.’ And I just… that was… maybe the most… it was very… you. And there were other options, flowers or cursive writing, o-or… I don’t know, they all seemed so obvious, but this…”

Jon swallowed, and finally looked up at Martin. “I thought, after the Lonely, you might like a reminder that, you have value. That… that to me, you shine as bright as any star.” And then he flushed, and Martin knew it was for him, just as he now knew the flushes about tea all those years ago had also been for him.

Martin was gaping. Oh. Oh. Jon… loved him. Which he’d known, intellectually, but the emotional knowledge of it hit him suddenly, took his breath away. He knew it, all at once, in that “oh we could spend the rest of our lives together” way he’d never really thought he’d ever feel.

Jon had clearly misinterpreted the expression; he started stammering, “I-if… it it’s bad, I can… well, no, I can’t take it back, stupid, I should’ve just grabbed the one that had--”

Martin cut him off by reaching out to take the notebook from Jon and reached out with his other hand to cup the shorter man’s cheek. He smiled, and because he’d realized long ago how well Jon responded to physical touch, he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead.

Then he pulled back to put the notebook aside on the counter and signed, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

Jon smiled, both speaking and signing, “I love you, too.”

And for once in his life, Martin knew that to be true, and trusted that knowledge. He was loved. He had been loved, and he would be loved for the rest of his life, whatever state his voice was in.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jon sims #jonathan sims #jon the archivist #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #archives gang #otp: one way or another together #fanfic #my fanfic #ableism tw #jmart #canon tma fic

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avidreider · 4 years ago

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okay, i’ll admit it. (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Reader confronts her boyfriend Spencer about her insecurities and his answer wasn’t what she was expecting.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

This is my first go at fanfic, so let me know what you think if you choose to read!

CW: Just relationship insecurities, mild angst (with a happy ending), mentions of the deceased Maeve.

***not my gif***

You were ecstatic that you reached this milestone with your boyfriend, Spencer. Together for two whole years, that is something that no one was expecting from the genius who was usually unlucky when it came to romance. You were hopelessly in love with Spencer. I mean, why wouldn’t you be? He was everything that you ever dreamed of. Not that you guys didn’t argue; you were human, of course you did. It was usually about something minor and silly; you using up all of the hot water so that he had to take a cold shower, or him not doing the dishes or helping you clean your shared apartment until you nagged him into it, normal things that long-term couples argue about. Those arguments were ones that were resolved quickly. But for the past week (the week after your anniversary), you had been having deeper arguments that seriously needed resolved. It started Saturday night when he got home from a tough case. A man lost his girlfriend to a female suicidal unsub, which brought back all of his buried feelings about Maeve. You knew what happened with Maeve since Spencer was one of your closest friends before you began dating, but you never understood the severity of how it affected him. You personally didn’t see why it would affect him the way it did. He saw awful things everyday and even though he established a relationship with her, he had only met her once, and all they did was talk on the phone, write letters, and share information on their lives. He thought that he had lost Emily, who he cared for deeply and worked with every day, so it didn’t make much sense that Maeve’s death affected him more than Emily’s ‘death’ did. However, his team had notified you how badly he was hurt, so you made a conscious effort to never talk about Maeve with Spencer. Well, until Saturday.

“I don’t know why you nag me so much when I get home from a tough case, Y/N! I am only human, even though people joke that I must be a robot! I have feelings, and you would think that you of all people would try to tend to them!” Spencer had shouted at you after all you did was approach him several times to ask him to stop reading his book so that you two could cuddle on the couch.

“Spencer, you see terrible things all the time, and I try not to nag you when you get home, ever! I didn’t realize that seeking your attention and affection was such a bother to you!” you retorted.

“I don’t see how you can want my affection when I am so obviously thinking about a woman that I’ve loved and lost before our relationship began.” Spencer said, while not being able to look you in your eyes.

“Well apparently it isn’t that obvious, because I hadn’t known that you were thinking of her.” you said.

“Y/N...,” he began, “I’m reading the book that I told you she gifted to me. I told you about the case when I called you last night, which almost directly mirrors the events that led me to lose Maeve. How could it not be obvious that I’m thinking of her?” he asked.

“I am sorry that you are hurting right now. But the fact of the matter is, I am your girlfriend. Me. And I’m right here, and I’m alive.” you said weakly.

“That was incredibly insensitive, Y/N.”

“HOW?! How was that insensitive, Spencer?! It’s the truth! You met Maeve once! You only talked on the phone or in letters! You didn’t even know her. You knew whatever she told you, but that’s the extent of it. You don’t know what type of person she was. Her ex ‘stalked her,’ so she claimed, but you don’t know if that is entirely true. She may have been crazy or a bad person just manipulating you! You didn’t live with her! You just don’t know! But I am right here, and you know me better than I know myself, or so I thought, and I love you! I’ve bought you books before, too, but you don’t obsess over them the way you obsess over that one! It doesn’t make sense to me, Spencer, am I not good enough for you?” you said as tears fell from your eyes.

“I can’t believe you,” Spencer muttered, totally unmoved by your tears. “I love Maeve more than anything in the world, Y/N. And you weren’t there, you aren’t in my head and you don’t know how I feel. You don’t have the right to question the depth of those feelings. And if you’re done belittling my dead girlfriend, I’m going to bed,” and with that, he went to the bedroom.

You couldn’t help but notice he didn’t assure you that you were good enough. You also noticed that he called Maeve his ‘girlfriend’ rather than his ‘ex.’ You chose to sleep on the couch that night.

The next morning, Spencer refused to be the one to break the silence. He truly thought that you were in the wrong for being so harsh when discussing Maeve, but he didn’t recognize the insecurity and pain that was reflected in your statement. So you spent the remainder of the weekend avoiding each other, and when he left for work on Monday, you decided to give him the cold shoulder just as he was doing to you. You didn’t answer his calls or texts, even though they were few and far between compared to how he normally does.

They didn’t have a case all week, so they used the opportunity to catch up on the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated at the BAU, but Spencer was home well before dinner each night. On Wednesday night, he looked up from his book to you doing the dishes after a silent dinner, and asked “Are you just never going to talk to me again?”

Your temper flared and you spit back, “Why would I? You told me that you love Maeve, but yet you haven’t told me that you love me since before you left for the last case. You act like I’m not good enough for you anymore. You said she was your ‘girlfriend,’ when I thought that I had that title. You’re over there reading that stupid book while I’m doing all the damn chores. So what exactly do you want me to say to you?”

“I meant to say that I loved Maeve, Y/N. And she wasn’t even my girlfriend. That was just the best word I could think of to describe our relationship. And the book is not stupid.”

“No, Spencer, the best way to describe your relationship would have been EX-girlfriend.”

“The book isn’t stupid. Maybe you just don’t understand it.”

“You’re right Spencer. I’m just too stupid to understand it, right?”

“Y/N I didn’t mean---”

“Oh don’t try to back track now, Spencer. You said what you felt, right? I’m just your stupid replacement apparently. I’m sorry that I can’t be more like Maeve for you,” and with that, you stormed out of the apartment. You weren’t sure where to go, so you wandered aimlessly, expecting Spencer to follow you. He didn’t. You ended up walking to Emily’s, and told her all about your fight with Spencer.

“Y/N,” Emily said, “I think that you need to tell him how much it upsets you that he’s still hung up over Maeve. I know you are hurting, but he can’t read your mind.” You thought about her words as she drove you home. When you arrived, Spencer was already in bed. You slept on the couch yet again.

On Thursday evening, you cooked dinner as usual, and did the dishes, as usual. You were feeling exhausted, so you got comfortable on the couch after the nightly chores were done. Spencer looked up from his desk and said, “Why don’t you sleep in the bedroom?”

“Are you planning on sleeping out here, then?” you asked.

“Y/N, we can still sleep in the same bed.”

“Not if the whole time you’re wishing it was Maeve lying next to you rather than me.”

Spencer actually closed the book as he looked up to you and spoke, “I have never wished it weren’t you. I just wish you weren’t so dramatic. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Y/N. I’m allowed to have thoughts about others.”

“Okay, Spencer. You’re right. My feelings don’t matter,” you say through tears as you head toward the bedroom. “Oh, and by the way, Spence, my world DOES revolve around you. And I would never want you to feel this way.”

Spencer joins you in the bedroom after he thinks you’re asleep but he’s on the phone with someone. You try not to be obvious as you listen to the conversation.

“I know, I know, I just wish she were a little more understanding. I do love her very much, and want a future with her, but it just seems like she’s angry that I had feelings for another woman before her... I hate not talking to her though. She’s my favorite part of the day... I hope she stops being mad at me soon... Okay, see you tomorrow, bye,” he hangs up as he crawls into bed. You feel somewhat guilty because you aren’t necessarily mad at him... You’re just upset.

On Friday morning, you feel Spencer kiss you goodbye even though it’s obvious he still thinks you’re asleep. That melts your heart, so you decided that you needed to try to resolve things. You had the day off from the hospital, so you headed into the bullpen of the BAU, but as you do, you notice something that throws you off. Spencer was laughing and playfully ‘fighting’ with JJ. You knew that he had had a crush on her, but you thought it was in the past tense. But after what was before your eyes and the events that unfolded over the weekend, you weren’t so sure. He caught your eye and stopped his actions immediately. That only increased your suspicions. You approached him with the lunch you had brought for him and set it on his desk in front of him.

“Hi,” you said shyly.

“Hi. What’s this?” he questioned.

“I thought that I would bring you some lunch today. It’s from that new Thai restaurant. I hope you like it,” and with that, you decided it was best to just head back home.

He opened the bag and discovered that you had written him a letter.

Dear Spencer,

I am sorry about what I said over the past few days. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or disrespect Maeve in any way. It’s just that I have been feeling really insecure lately, and I feel like you don’t love me the way that I love you. I know that your job is emotionally and physically exhausting, and I want to support you in any way that I can. But I have emotional needs too. You have barely wanted to even touch me this week, or even talk to me. And I’ve noticed that any time you read the book she gave to you, you seem to resent me or forget that I even exist. I understand that I am not as smart as you or that I’m not as pretty as what you deserve, but I do love you and would do anything to make you happy. I hope that you feel the same.

Guilt washed through Spencer as your words and actions began to make a lot of sense. He pulled out his phone to call you, but you didn’t answer. So he sent a text that read, “Hey sweetheart. I just read your letter. I am so sorry that you are feeling that way. Please come back so that we can have lunch together.”

Your response was simply, “I already ate,” even though that was a lie.

Spencer texted back, “Okay, well let’s go grab coffee or ice cream, or both if you want. :)”

“That’s okay Spencer, take JJ instead.”

He called again, and you quickly pushed decline. A frustrated sigh left his lips, and he pushed ‘call’ one more time.

This time, you answered, “What, Spencer?”

“Are you seriously upset that I was talking to JJ?”

“Not talking Spencer, flirting. You were flirting with JJ, and you know it. You think that I forgot that you were in love with her too? I am sorry that I am not enough for you, but maybe you should just dump me instead, okay?” and with that, you hung up.

He was angry with himself for not realizing why that felt that way. The way you had been acting all week was obviously because you felt insecure. You weren’t trying to hurt him, he realized, you were just hurt yourself. When Spencer came home, he saw you running around the house cleaning and putting away laundry. “Baby, can we talk?”

“Sure,” you replied while you were hanging up his work clothes.

“Do you want me to help with that?” he asked, as he pointed at the laundry basket.

“I mean, they are YOUR clothes. You never seem to help me around the house though until I ‘nag’ you first, so you don’t have to help if it will be that big of an inconvenience for you.”

“Y/N, I am so sorry that I am hurting you. I guess I didn’t even realize that I was. I am so incredibly sorry.”

“Do you love me? Or do you love Maeve? Or JJ? I honestly can’t handle being a second, or I guess, third, option anymore.”

“There are different levels of love, baby. I used to have feelings for JJ, but I love her as if she were my sister. I did have a crush on her, but I also had a crush on you before I had you. And that’s a crush that never faded like the one with JJ did. And okay, I’ll admit it. I did love Maeve. I saw a future with her that I didn’t dream of before her. I felt like there were so many opportunities that were lost once she was gone. But you are my future now. Sometimes I do wish I could’ve saved her, not because I don’t love you, but because I failed to protect her. It was hard to adjust to life without her, but I did. But on the way home I was thinking about you. If I had lost you the way I lost her, there’s no way I could ever recover. If you had even left me because I’ve been neglecting your needs, I don’t know what I would’ve done. I also love my mom, of course, and I love my team. But, Y/N, I am so unconditionally and irreversibly in love with you. I am so sorry that you’ve been feeling insecure. But honey, you are so much more than enough for me; No woman in this world can hold a candle to you. You are brilliant, beautiful, funny, and so, so, sexy,” he adds as he plants kisses on your neck.

“I love you, Spence,” you say in between panting breaths.

“I love you more than anything, Y/N. And please, tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it. I don’t want you to feel like this anymore. You want more help around the house? I’ll fold the laundry, I’ll do the dishes, I’ll vacuum. I will never again say no to cuddling after a case. I wanna give you the world, baby.”

“You’ll do ANYTHING?” you ask. Spencer nodded.

“Can we go get that ice cream now?” you asked with a smile.

Spencer gave you a chaste kiss and replied, “I’ll get the keys.”

This was my first time writing fanfic so I’m sorry if it was bad but I got the idea and had to write it down. If you read it let me know what you think!

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #reader insert #doctor reid #dr. spencer reid #dr. reid #spencer reid fluff

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nowoyas · 5 years ago

Text

Bunny Eyes

A/N: I JUST WANTED TO WRITE BUNNYZUKU GETTING DISAPPOINTED AND BEING CUTE HOW DID THIS HAPPEN BUT Y’ALL WANTED THE SICKFIC SO HERE’S THE SICKFIC

Summary: Saying 'no' to your boyfriend is hard enough, does he have to make you feel so guilty when you’re already sick? (bunny!Izuku x sick!reader, fluff)

Warnings: uh none, the reader has the flu and has flu symptoms but I didn’t go into like, gross descriptions

Word count: 2600+ (HOW THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT AND SWEET)

Your boyfriend might be just a little bit evil.

Not in the traditional sense, no, Izuku's too pure and kind and good for this world. Reckless, selfless, and all around perfect.

But he's evil and he knows if he just looks at you just right, you won't be able to say no.

Currently, you're bed-bound from a nasty flu that's been making you feel absolutely miserable. When you're not asleep, the farthest you've been able to go is being miserable on your balcony in the fresh air (usually at night, since this damn flu has absolutely slam dunked your sleep schedule) or sneaking on to your computer to game, exhaustion and dizziness and all manner of symptoms making even sitting up for too long a chore.

You have to thank whatever powers are out there for Izuku's loving hand in your recovery. You don't trust yourself to make it all the way downstairs to the kitchen from your fourth-floor dorm room, and without even asking, he's stopped by every morning and afternoon since you got sick to bring you food, including a few simple pre-packed things to choke down for lunch and extra bottles of water. Not that you've been particularly hungry, but on the rare occasion you feel well enough to choke something down, thanks to him, you've actually been able to.

He's constantly been worried over you, since even before you started dating in your first year, but the flu picking you up and effortlessly slamming you through the floor certainly hasn't helped that. Still, he's so sweet, and by this point (day 5 since you got sick, but who’s counting?) he's basically the only sunshine you're getting. You're sure if your bunny-eared boyfriend didn't have class to go to (and Aizawa was adamant that he still attend class), he'd be at your side every moment, fussing over you and making sure you eat, stay hydrated, and take your medicine.

Unluckily for you (or perhaps luckily—your medicine tastes utterly vile and isn't helping your stomach settle any more), he's had class every day since you got sick, and he can't afford to fall behind even if he's apparently spending most of his time in class worrying over how you're doing alone in your dorm.

Whether him being at class every day is lucky or unlucky, the opposite is true for today. (Or is it tomorrow? What time is it again?) It's the weekend, meaning he's got no other obligations to deal with, so you can and do expect him to want to spend every moment doting and fussing and using those damn eyes to get you to relent and take your disgusting medicine.

On one hand, score, cute boy acting as your nurse. On the other hand, if he spends all day in your room tending to your sick-people needs, he's gonna get sick, and it'll be an utter nightmare trying to get him to take his medicine and actually rest. God knows he'll be trying to sneak in studying when you're not keeping an eye on him. You'll probably have to confiscate his weights so he doesn't try to work out while he's still sick. (Not that you aren't almost just as bad, but at least you're not a rabbit with godlike ability in terms of sheer power and speed to make it harder to deal with.)

As much as you'd adore having his presence with you to make you go from miserable to "miserable but also very aware of how in love you are and being forced to take gross meds" (which kinda cancels itself out), you don't want him getting sick or wasting his whole day on you. Also, you get the feeling he's probably smart enough to figure out that you haven't been resting as much as you say you have. For now, at least, you're sat on your balcony, leaned up against the railing lightly to get some fresh air. And that's where you fall asleep, exhaustion hitting you like so many trucks.

When you wake up, you're being cradled against Izuku's chest and carried to your bed. You shiver, feeling both heat and cold overtake you, and tears prick at your eyes as you realize your fever has almost definitely come back in full force. Izuku pulls back your covers and lays you down, not noticing you're awake until he moves to drape the blanket back over your body. His rabbit ears stand at full attention, his face lighting up just a moment before a playfully chiding look comes on his face.

"You shouldn't be sleeping outside like that, love, you'll get even more sick. And based on how hot you felt when I picked you up, you did." He places his hands on his hips, frowning even as you note the sparkle of affection in his eyes. You're not sure he's even capable of getting actually mad at you.

"Sorry," you mumble, bringing the covers up to hide your face and how utterly awful you look before deciding almost immediately that you're going to overheat under these covers. You writhe about just enough to kick them off, already feeling sweat form on your skin. "The air felt really nice."

You end up throwing a pillow over your face so at least the worst part of you is hidden, hugging it close when Izuku laughs and tries to move it away. "I brought breakfast, please quit hiding so you can eat?"

"But I look like shit," you whine into the pillow. "I don't even have the energy to get downstairs. I had to wash my hair in my bathroom sink."

Warm hands find their way to your wrists, gently prying your hands and the pillow away so you can meet his adoring gaze. If you weren't already flushed from fever, you'd probably have the energy for a blush to find its way to your face. "You're perfect, starshine," he says softly, causing your heart to stutter and your body to instantly melt. His library of pet names never ceases to pull you further into love.

Before you can find some response, he crosses the room to your desk, where he apparently set his Nurse Deku Kit™ so he could carry you back inside. You shift a bit to lean up against your wall, watching in amusement as the giant cotton ball he calls a tail twitches a little bit. You hope, idly, that he doesn't notice that your computer's only in sleep mo—

He bumps the mouse by accident, and the screen lights up immediately, showing your games library with a very obvious "recently played" list. Busted.

He lets out a little sigh as he turns back to you with a thermometer in hand. "Princess..."

You try hard not to look like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and smile innocently at him as he approaches. He sits on the side of your bed, and you tilt your head. "Something wrong?"

He holds out the thermometer, and you obediently let him stick it underneath your tongue, knowing he won't let you out of having your temperature taken. "Have you been resting?"

You nod. He hums, clearly not believing you. "Are you feeling up to eating anything?"

Your nose scrunches up, your stomach turning at the thought. "Ughf," you force out around the thermometer.

Izuku frowns, ruffling your hair as the thermometer beeps. He takes it from you, and his nose twitches as he reads the number. You'd fawn over how adorable it is if not for the look of worry that crosses his features. "Your fever's back, starshine. I really need you to rest more for me, okay?"

Not that you're planning on arguing, but it's really hard to have the will to when his ears drop down and he gives you a look like you just kicked a puppy. You nod, and he perks up just a bit, placing a new water bottle on your nightstand and reaching for a box of crackers. "I know you're not feeling up to eating, but can you do me a favor and eat just one cracker?"

You compromise with half a cracker before your body threatens to revolt for your hubris. You pause, forcing yourself to swallow it, and chase it with a bit of water. With Izuku's coaxing words and a minor break, you manage to choke down the rest without getting even sicker, and he gives you a strained smile that still manages to light up the room.

He leans forward, and you sense his intentions, narrowing your eyes and putting a hand up in front of his lips. "No."

Izuku lets out a disgruntled noise that's a mix between a grunt and a whine when his lips meet your fingers. "Baby," he whines out.

"No!" you insist. "You'll get sick, 'Zuku."

"But I miss you," he says as his ears fall all the way back, his eyes reminding you of one of those adoption commercials with all the sad animals that make you cry every time. "Please, starshine?"

Shit. You're already desperately trying to bring your resolve back. You swear he's figured out exactly how to get you to do what he wants, but you won't falter this time! "No kisses. I shouldn't even be letting you stay in the room to take care of me."

As if the bunny eyes and the oh-so-adorably-expressive ears weren't enough, he wiggles closer to you, taking your hand in both of his and running his thumb over it. "I got my flu shot, I'll be fine! I promise!" He pauses, pouting a bit. You can't tell if it's him thinking or another way to express how disappointed he is. "Please baby? Honey? Sweetheart? Starshine? Princess? Rosebud? Light of my life?"

"Nooo," you press with a giggle as he continues running through every possible pet name he can in a playfully pleading tone. "I know you got your flu shot, but so did I, and here I am."

"Still..." He keeps those damn green eyes (that's the official name for that shade, damn green) locked on yours sadly, and the guilt spikes in your stomach. "Just one?"

And like that, your resolve crumbles. "You're evil, you know that?" you mumble, tearing your eyes away. They dart back just in time to see his whole being light up, rabbit ears effortlessly perking up from their previous saddened position. "Using such a dirty trick. You get one."

You'd continue berating him for the crime of using his adorable face to get what he wants, but he immediately takes your face in his hands and begins showering your face with kisses–your cheeks, your nose, your forehead–everywhere except your lips, which he saves for last, a slow, sweet, chaste kiss that leaves you melting.

"Izuku..." you whine as he pulls away. "I said one."

He chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. "Sorry, starshine. I couldn't help myself."

Your playful ire melts at the way his eyes flutter shut in contentment, small smiles on both of your lips. He surely knows by now that it's impossible for you to say no, not when he's this damn cute.

A giggle surges out of you, followed by a coughing fit that you desperately cover in your elbow. When you catch your breath, you smirk at him, eyes sparkling. "If you get sick because of this, I'm confiscating your weights so you can't try to train."

"Alright, alright, I get it. You haven't taken your medicine yet today, right?" You wince, turning your head away preemptively. "'Zu-kun..." you whine.

"[name]..." His tone is gently chiding as he prepares the medicine, unscrewing the cap with one hand and gently placing the other under your cheek and pushing you back to face him. "You're not gonna get better if you keep trying to skip your medicine and sneak onto the computer instead of resting."

"But if I take the medicine, I might throw up the cracker, and it was so hard to eat just the one..." You give him your best puppy eyes, but he only smiles fondly and shakes his head, continuing to measure out your dose.

“You'll get all the cuddles when you're better if you take your medicine like you're supposed to," he promises.

You pout, but when he extends the dose cup filled with liquid distaste, you begrudgingly take it, downing it like the least pleasant shot you've ever had in your life. You gag on the swallow, but you down every drop, pouting at Izuku when it's all down. "Happy?"

"Very. You did a good job, princess." He ruffles your hair, and you really wish you could muster the energy to be flustered at the praise like you normally would, but honestly, you already feel yourself kind of drifting back off. Determined, you shoot him a smile and try to distract yourself from sleepiness.

"I know it's a weekend, but if I stay in bed and promise to get rest, can I get away with asking to see your notes from class?" You plead, giving him your best puppy-eyed look.

"I don't know, you haven't shown me a very good track record of actually resting," he says teasingly, not yet having looked at you as he rifles through his little kit for something else.

"'Zu-kun," you whine, stifling a yawn. "I don't wanna go to sleep yet. Please?"

Izuku disappears into your bathroom for a moment, followed shortly by the sound of running water, and when he emerges to see your pleading look, you can see his own resolve crumble.

Two can play at his little pleading game.

He smooths a hand over your forehead to move your hair out of the way, laying a blue towel over your sweat-slicked forehead that's cold, far too cold—

You let out a whine as you shiver. "How is it even that cold?" You mumble, shifting into your blankets more in an attempt to balance the heat.

"Oh, it's one of those exercise towels," he explains. "They're made so they get really cold when they're wet. I want to try to bring your temperature down, but if it's way too cold, I can get a regular towel instead–"

You shake your head. The cold does feel soothing, underneath all the cold cold cold so cold making you shiver. "Notes?" you remind him.

He leans forward and presses a quick peck to the towel in your forehead before you can stop him. "I love you, [name], but it can wait until you're feeling better."

"So can kisses," you retort, swatting at him lightly. "I don't wanna be useless the whole time I'm sick, so—" You break off into a yawn. "—so please let me study a bit?"

"Try to eat half of one more cracker before you fall asleep and I might consider it when you wake up," he says with a teasing grin. You pout and hold out your hand for him to place the broken cracker in.

"I hate having crumbs in my bed," you mutter, nibbling away at the cracker. You barely manage to eat the half you were given, your body protesting your attempts to actually eat and keep something down all the while, but you do manage it.

Izuku's fingers entwine with your own, a fond smile on his face as you feel yourself nodding off. "[Name]?"

"Mm?"

"I love you. Get better soon, okay?"

"Love you too," you reply sleepily, another yawn wracking your body. "Sorry. I wanted to stay up and... talk with you... but..."

A hand finds its way into your hair to play with it as your eyes drift shut. "It's okay," he says adoringly, "We'll talk later. Get some rest, princess."

#midoriya izuku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bunny!izuku #deku x reader #my fics

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monggu-eomma · 5 years ago

Text

Give and Take

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Reply 2009 AU, high school AU, fluff, and comfort

Word Count: 2.2k

Prompt: self-insert your first teen phase

Summary: Rewind to 2009. It’s a year that you’ll never forget. Memories of Kanye interrupting Taylor’s acceptance speech, Twilight being made into a movie, the release of the Single Ladies music video, making your very own Facebook account, and texting your best friend on the newest Samsung slide phone would forever be ingrained in your mind. It was a busy year and with the help of your best friend, you were going to snag the hottest concert tickets that any teen girl or guy could dream of having.

Author’s Note: This scenario is for the BGW Bingo Bash and is based off of the “self-insert your first teen phase.” The teen phase that I have chosen to write about was my very first boy band, the Jonas Brothers. Nothing that happened in this scenario actually happened to me. Like all but one of my stories, it’s just wishful thinking. © Give and Take is copyright monggu-eomma. Do not re-post, modify, and/or translate this piece of writing without my permission.

Life seemed to take more than it gave back. It all began a few years ago. At eleven years old, you were starting to make lifelong friendships and settle into your life, your parents took away all of that progress by moving to a new place. It was supposed to be a fresh start, especially for your parents and their crumbling relationship and they had hoped that being closer to family would somehow solve all of their problems, but it didn’t stop the contention found in your home. The phrase “the grass is not greener on the other side” rang true for your family’s big move. The constant fighting didn’t disappear after your family moved and with being forced to make new friends and adjust to a new place, you felt like life was taking the biggest dump on you possible.

With all of that being said, there was one thing as a result of your family moving that wasn’t terrible and that was your best friend, Kim Taehyung. You had first met him when his family had offered to help your family move into your new home. When you first looked around the neighborhood, it seemed like all of the kids in the neighborhood knew each other very well and it made you feel like an outsider. All of that quickly changed when Taehyung had approached you and asked if you wanted to play with him. Despite being shy, you nodded your head and from there you grew to be the best of friends.

Taehyung had always been there for you. He was there cheering you on during your horseback riding competitions and he was there to console you when your parents told you that they didn’t have enough money to continue your horseback riding lessons. It was a low blow to have to give up on something that you loved to do and Taehyung was there to comfort by inviting you to hang out at his family’s farm and take care of their horses with him. He was there to encourage you to play the cello, which you had always wanted to play, even though it meant that you couldn’t be in Band class with him. Most recently, he was there through the tears and the deafening moments of silence when your mom walked out, leading to your parents’ divorce. He knew that he couldn’t fix your broken heart, but he did everything in his power to make sure that you remembered that you were not alone. On warm days he would come over and encourage you to go on walks with him to make sure you got fresh air and on cold days, he would open his arms to you and watch whatever movie you wanted to watch, even if it was Twilight.

You and Taehyung did everything together, from taking the bus to school together, to taking as many classes together as possible -- much to the displeasure of your teachers -- to sharing secrets while playing Mario Kart late at night. He would listen to you gush about your favorite male celebrities and he even came with you at the midnight release of Breaking Dawn. Taehyung was without a doubt the best part of your life.

“Nick is so handsome,” you sighed as you stood by your locker, admiring your newly acquired Jonas Brothers album. Taehyung stood next to you, looking down at the album and tried to remember which one was Nick. Was he the one with straight hair?

“I thought Joe was your favorite,” Taehyung said. He didn’t particularly care for the Jonas Brothers, but he didn’t dislike them either.

“Joe is my favorite, but I can still think that Nick is handsome,” you explained. “Oh! Oh! And Kevin,” you added, because in this house you loved and supported every Jonas Brother.

Taehyung nodded, not really sure what to say to that. He supposed it made sense, but he also was under the impression that you were primarily into the Jonas Brothers for their music. You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket and you saw that a friend had texted you, asking if you were going to ride the bus back home.

“We need to go! The bus is going to leave soon!” You exclaimed as you slid open your phone to reveal a full keyboard. You needed to tell your friend to ask the bus driver to wait for you and Taehyung to come. Before you could start the text, Taehyung’s eyes widened and he took your wrist so that you could run along with him.

The Fates seemed to be favoring you today, which got you excited, since the bus was still there by the time you and Taehyung had arrived, with chests heaving and hearts pounding. You had failed to notice that Taehyung was still holding on to your hand as you entered the bus, but oddly enough, it wasn’t weird. It felt kind of nice. You wouldn’t have minded him holding your hand more often. It wasn’t until you both sat down next to each other that Taehyung had noticed that he was still holding your hand. He looked down at your intertwined hands and immediately released your hand, a blush coloring his neck and cheeks.

“Sorry,” he said. Normally you weren’t a big of prolonged physical contact, but you knew that if it weren’t for Taehyung holding your hand as he ran, there was no way that you would have made it on time to the bus.

You bumped your shoulder against his, trying to diffuse the tension. “It’s okay. If it weren’t for you dragging me, I would have missed the bus.” You didn’t want to make it awkward by saying that you enjoyed him holding your hand. You would keep that information to yourself.

Although there was still some awkwardness hanging in the air, the rest of the bus ride home was spent listening to music with Taehyung. You each shared an earbud as you both listened to music on your iPod. It was amazing that that thing could hold five hundred songs. You were pretty sure that you’d never be able to use up all of the space for music.

A few songs later, and you found yourself walking back home with Taehyung. The walk was only six minutes, you had counted, and you were still listening to music together. It was a little hard to share earbuds with Taehyung since he was starting to grow taller, which caused the earbud in your right ear to tug a few times. He asked a few times if you were okay since he saw the minor discomfort, but you didn’t mind it all.

“Are you still going to come by later?” You asked when you stood in front of your house.

“Of course! I just need to do some chores and then I’ll be right over,” Taehyung replied, with a smile.

You clapped your hands and jumped up and down. “Awesome!” Taehyung laughed and started to make his way home. “And don’t forget to bring your phone!”

He turned around and tilted his head to the side. “My phone?”

“Yeah! We’re gonna need it tonight,” you exclaimed. Taehyung was skeptical towards your request but he shrugged his shoulders in compliance. You never needed to try hard to convince him to do something. Your wish was your command and he would gladly follow.

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

“Are you really going to do this?” Taehyung asked as he watched you scatter five different phones, four cell phones and your home phone, on your bedroom floor.

“Yes! I am,” you said as you looked up to see his eyes judging you from where he sat on your bed. You opted to sit on your bedroom floor to allow for more flexibility, although mobility wasn’t necessary for this challenge, you just liked knowing that you could move around.

“Can’t you just use your laptop to get tickets?” Taehyung suggested. He looked toward your clunky Dell laptop that was sitting on your desk. That laptop was so ancient that it made a whirring noise whenever you used it, but despite its age the laptop worked perfectly fine even if it had to be plugged into a socket to function.

“No! I can’t,” you replied as you folded your arms across your body. “I don’t have money and there’s no way that Dad will buy tickets for me. The only way that I can see them is to win tickets through this radio show,” you explained in exasperation. It felt like this was the millionth time that you were explaining yourself to Taehyung, but at the same time, you knew that you shouldn’t be too harsh on him. He could have made fun of you for your obsession over the Jonas Brothers, but he didn’t. On top of that, he was even letting you use his cellphone to call in to the radio show. “Can you pass me my radio, please?”

Taehyung leaned over to your nightstand and grabbed your radio.

“Thank you!” You beamed as he handed over the radio to you. Taehyung smiled as he watched you dial the radio to the right station. He couldn’t remember the exact moment that he started crushing on you. Maybe it was when you shared your favorite ice cream with him, even though you hate sharing your favorite foods. Maybe it was when you spent all of the free day that they had in Band class laughing at him messing around on the saxophone. Maybe it was when your soft hand tightly held on to his hand when your school took your grade to the ice skating rink. Regardless of when he started to share his heart with you, Taehyung was resolved to stay by your side, even as you daydreamed of marrying your favorite Jonas Brother.

Taehyung was snapped out of his thoughts when he felt a thud on your bed. You had tossed two of the five phones onto your bed. He gazed at you as the last rays from the Sun for the day streamed into your bedroom, illuminating your figure. He was crushing on you, hard.

“When the radio host opens up the line, dial the radio station’s phone number,” you explained. Taehyung nodded his head, despite not really understanding what was so great about the Jonas Brothers, but at this point he was sure he would do anything for you. If you asked him to jump, he would say, “How high?”

“You ready, Tae?”

“Ready,” he said as he listened carefully to the radio host. Despite the fact that Taehyung was watching your nervous and excited state, he still managed to play his part and he continued to play his unspoken part ten minutes later when he held you in his arms on your bed as you cried.

“We tried so hard,” you said in between tears as your fingers clutched Taehyung’s shirt as if your life depended on it. He didn’t think that it was accurate to say we since he had just followed along with you not giving anything but you much thought, but he wasn’t going to argue with you on that.

You felt devastated. You knew that there was a chance that you wouldn’t get the tickets, but before the radio show, you did your best to not entertain those kinds of negative thoughts. It was all or nothing. From an outside perspective it seemed silly to cry over tickets, but you really wanted to see the Jonas Brothers and this was your one chance to do so.

As the tears continued to fall, Taehyung carefully ran his fingers through your hair. He knew that you weren’t a touchy-feely person, so this prolonged physical contact was new territory for the both of you, but you didn’t complain about the comfort he gave. The only thing he could do was to comfort you to the best of his capacity. Occasionally, he’d rock your bodies back and forth, which would cause you to break out in laughter, even if you still felt heartbroken at the loss of not getting the concert tickets. Eventually, the tears stopped flowing and you looked up to see Taehyung looking down at you.

“Thanks for helping me, Tae,” you said. “I know you don’t like or really care about the Jonas Brothers, but you still helped me.”

“I’m always here. Even if that means helping you get tickets to see the Brothers Jonas,” Taehyung said, purposefully getting the band name wrong. You playfully punched him in the arm and rolled your eyes.

“It’s the Jonas Brothers, Tae. Not the Brothers Jonas,” you corrected.

Taehyung laughed at your correction. You felt the vibrations of his chest, since he was still holding on you in his arms. He laid against the headboard of your bed, taking you down with him.

“You’re such a dork, Taehyung.”

“But I’m better than the Jonas Brothers, right?” You felt Taehyung bury his face in your hair and you smiled.

“You aren’t just better. You’re the best.”

Life took more than it gave back, but none of that mattered because when life gave you Kim Taehyung, you didn’t need anything else.

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lockdownuk · 5 years ago

Text

Lockdown Diary Part 1

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 1: Last night Boris called it, today we’re doing it. I had started working from home (wfh) yesterday as had most people at my work (RCI)..last week I had been preparing laptops as fast as poss for everyone. Even just today, the idea of going into work seems alien and dangerous. Now lockdown (ld) means that it would soon be illegal to do so unless utterly necessary.

Online, FaceBook (fb) especially, is awash with reaction…a lot of calling out people who are out and about in greater numbers than 2, which is against ld rules.

Day 2: Just trying to let work occupy my thoughts and time which is easy enough ‘cos everyone I support (IT engineer) is new to wfh and is having teething problems with all the new laptops. Meanwhile, I keep abreast of comings and goings online…actually socially interacting more than I might otherwise, weirdly

Day 3: Highlight of the day is an online quiz organised by a chap called Jay Flynn on fb…a bunch of us took it as individuals while chatting on Messenger while Jay streamed quiz over fb live and YouTube. It was a good crack and I had two cans of Coors Light which got me pissed!

Day 4: Work is still mad - so many people with IT issues wfh…it’s challenging trying resolve all these probelms remotely but I am rising to it. I actually enjoy it. It satisfies my want for problem-solving.

The ld is in full swing but it’s very early days. The news is dominated, obviously, by Covid-19 and the ever changing stats of infections and deaths. Today, for example, the USA took over, from China, as the country with the most infections. I know there will be an end to all this and I am determined to be there, going out, getting pissed down the pub, gigging, shaking hands with my mates, hugging anyone and everyone who’ll let me - it’ll be a proper party. But I am filled with a dread that it’s going to be a fucking long time coming.

This evening was spent virtually with Foggy, Ham and Andy P…doing a quiz - a rehearsal for Foggy in the hope of doing one to a wider audience next week. It was good fun and great to have a few beers chatting with everyone, Later I video called Fog and we drank ‘til gone midnight, putting the world to rights. I was well pissed.

Day 5: First non-work day of the ld. Housework, daily walk, out for supplies (drop a script order off…queuing outside boots for 15 minues!, bread, baccy and booze). This evening, I’m listening to the next album in NME list of 1985 albums I’m working through - Grace Jones Slave to the Rhythm…fucking pain in the arse ‘cos it’s not on Spotify so I am searching for each song, in order, on YouTube. Plus eating and drinking, of course. Quick video chat with karen and Grace, Dan in the background. I wanted a tin of kidney beans for chilli but Karen hasn’t got one ffs. Burger it is. They are all playing scrabble - I’d love to join in…

Day 6: A quiet day…housework, cooking, daily walk. Highlight was a half hour chinwag with dad who, as I would expect, despite his 84 years, is coping and doing just fine. Most other people with a dad that age would have, on top of their own concerns, something more to worry about during this crisis….for me, it feels like I’ve got someone to turn to, should I need to.

Day 7: Work is starting to feel more routine but it’s a long way off being in the office, which is never routine anyway. That may seem surprising since I do IT support but it’s a varied role, especially at the modern dinosaur of an organisation that is RCI. I try to be as disciplined as possible but I miss not dressing for work, not driving to work, not needing to actually prepare lunch (until lunchtime). I don’t actually need to shower every morning. I don’t think I have to ordinarily but do because I’m mixing with others in the office. I certainly don;t need to now. I only mix with me, so showering becomes a chore but I’m doing it every other morning in the name of the aforementioned discipline. I am worried how long RCI can keep going before laying staff off. I dread being out of work full stop, let alone during this ld, or even thereafter. I think the economies of the world will need time to recover so finding work will be tough à la 2008. I think, if lay-offs were to occur, I’d be in real danger. Last in first out and all that. But, I’ll cross that bridge if and when I come to it.

Day 8: At work there was a large online meeting whereby the MD told us that RCI are going to furlough some staff. The UK, and Ireland staff will be consulted this coming Thursday and Friday (it’s Tuesday today). I shall be reading up on what the furlough arrangements are in the UK due to Covid-19. I know the government have set aside some money, I need to know what I might get paid and how to claim it. In the past, when I’ve been out of work, I’ve been entitled to jack shit other than JSA, This time around, should I be laid off as I expect, I might not have to eat into my savings, fingers crossed. Meanwhile, I have decided to knock up another blog with a photo of myself each day of the ld (from now on) - it’s a sister to this diary.

Day 9: Actually typing this on day 10. Yesterday was a strange day as I contemplate being furloughed (hope for the best, expect the worst)…I’d be paid 80% of my wage according to what the government have said to assist in the Covid-19 crisis…so, were that to be true, I’d be OK money-wise, although still earning way less than I want to prepared for retirement (I am currently still waiting for feedback on a pay increase request I put in at work last year!) I’m more worried about how I would fill my day if I wasn’t working. So, that being said, I flopped and moped about all yesterday evening after my daily walk and, without achieving much at all, didn’t find time to write this entry on the right day…so maybe I can fill my days without much effort!

Day 10: I was furloughed today, starting 5pm tomorrow (Friday 3rd April) and it’s fucked me off. I know it’s not personal but, actually, do I? They’re cutting back the Kettering Desktop team by one, redacted It seems obvious to do this by the ‘last in, first out’ maxim but what about money? others are on more than me (redacted). What about offering it voluntarily - others might go for 80% pay for fuck all - others have family at home to occupy the day (redacted) . A little bit of me thinks it might be preferable furlough me (redacted) …others seems to be a favourite and that annoys me. It annoys me because I think I shoot myself in the foot too often. I’m too vocal about some of the (redacted) decisions and practices at work, plus other reasons that I know but can’t be bothered to type. But, my point, is I don’t play the politically correct, corporate game and therefore forget to look out for my own best interests. FUCK.

So, as of tomorrrow evening, I’ve no work to do. The challenge will be to find a way to occupy my day. I’ve already registered to volunteer for the NHS during the ld…let’s see what becomes of that. And I’ve signed up for web development course. I’m going to get fucking pissed this w/e, starting early tomorrow evening.

Day 11: It’s day 12 as I am writing this entry…that might tell any reader, and remind me, that I did as I promised and got pretty drunk. I spent the day geting my work affairs in order i.e. clearing down support tickets assigned to me. I did a good job, nothing left to handover to the remaining team (Jim, Cristina and Mark) and onky one ticket put into the assigned pool. Some nice converstaions were had with associates, many of whom are, too, being furloughed. Nice words were said and Jim and Mark both were supportive in conversations and messages - they both know I don’t wnat this and, I think, they are both relieved it’s not happening to them. 5 pm arrives and I shutdown my work laptop for the last time for at least 12 weeks. After my daily walk, I video chat with Karen, crack open a beer, make Chinese chicken curry (fucking loads, fucking tasty), finish watching The National Theatre stream of One Man, Two Guvnors (really good, see twoinchreview) and the caught up with, and talked bollocks with Andy, Marc and Ham - we tried getting Rog in on it, no dice. I then watched The Heat (I fucking love that film), ate some more, smoked several single-skinners, drank, in total, three cans, seven bottles. I went to bed shortly after 4am. I felt resigned to my furlough and pleasantly wasted.

Day 12: A subdued day…didn’t wake until gone 1:30pm. Jaded but not really suffering. Mooched about, social media, listening to music, watching telly, farting about on the iPad. My daily walk, over the last fews days, has taken a twist…I am trying to run parts of it. Mainly short distances, 80-100m (I estimate) three, maybe four times. It’s fucking knackering me out. I used to run everywhere when I was a teen. Attempting to run now just makes me feel fucking old. Well, I am, so that’s about right.

Day 13: Another day like yesterday except I got up at 10:30 and didn’t feel jaded. The subdued feeling comes from the realsiation that the ld isn’t being treated as seriously as it should be across the board. The news and even posts by locals on FB (Oundle chatter group) suggest groups still meeting up. The weather this w/e has been a factor - 17°c today. I think a total ld will be enforced soon and that would fuck me off. My daily walk is pretty essential for me nowadays not least for the ‘good for your soul’ benefits that dad has always mentioned. Even today’s walk saw a car parked at the gates to the field on the way to Ashton and people on a blanket soaking up the sun, dogs off their leads and people (looked like a family) playing footy on South Road field. Individually they are not presenting any danger, what with the fact they are either living together or far away from others. But they are flaunting the rules and the more that happens the less likely they’ll carry on getting away with it, which will mean total ld for all! I finished the 50 1985 albums today. It mostly confirms to me that I only listened to two albums released that year (Kate Bush, The Waterboys) any other vinyl I spun would have already been in my collection pre-85.

The sausage casserole I made for tea was fucking lush - 4 birdeye chillies. I saw and spoke with Dan and Grace this morning, they were just coming back from a walk. I am pleased to fuck they are together and sorted out the issues they had earlier this year.

Day 14: My first day proper of furlough. Finished my two inch review of the NME 50 albums. Long chat with Rita, quick one with dad. Messaged Sam about Romiley’s present - she’s 10 on the 9th April (Thursday) - ordered some Lego thing from Amazon. Turned the car engine over (reminded myself the driver-side wing mirror is fucked) and moved it to another spot in the Co-op car park - bumped into Matt T. He’s struggling - no work coming in and he can’t claim any of the money on offer ‘cos he’s not being totally honest about his circumstances - made me realise I’m not that bad off…..but I feel depressed about it all, especially with the news that Boris has gone into intensive care.

Day 15: I began a diploma (?) course on web design with Shaw Academy (it was free). They have actual classes (which are recorded) which you schedule yourself. The first one was, I have to say, really interesting - I look forward to continuing. On my walk today, I saw a car parked at the gate to the field at the bottom of Riverside Close; it was branded with Cunninghams Estate Agent with a 01536 number. I am pretty sure I saw the driver walking her dog (unleashed) on the field. I took a photo and rang the number. Yes, I ratted the culprit out…fucking annoys me that I had to. Better than reporting to the police, all round. Hopefully her work will put a stop to her doing it and, the more people that adhere to the rules without the police getting wind of infractions, the more likely we’ll be able to continue to exercise away from home.

Day16: More online learning including checking out other sites (pluralsight) for more learning opportunities. Coded my first web page, basic but mine, in HTML and CSS. A few beers & smokes and watching White Boy Rick in the evening, interspersed with the usual social media / messaging shit, incuding this entry, of course!

Day 17: Typing this on Day 18. After a few beers last night while chatting with Fog (twice - the first chat ended with him ‘having’ to go to bed. Later, I noticed he was commenting on FB, so I video called him…round two of chatting!). I got quite fucking pissed. Bed around 4am.

Day18: Up at 1pm. Long walk today, 7 km. Anything over 40 minutes, I’ve realised, results in a hypo.

Day19: Well, having gone to bed at gone 5am I got up at nearly 1pm feeling far better than I should have. Breakfast followed by a walk, spoke with Karen (mowing her front lawn) and Dan. He and Grace have split up which is sad news but he seems OK. Went shopping (milk and sweets) and ended up with a shit load of booze, the post of which on FB was quite amusing. Homemade burgers for tea (they’re in the fridge as I type) - gonna try and make Five Guys…

Day20: The Five Guys burger attempt didn’t go as well as I wanted. I think less than 5% fat mince just doesn’t bind that well. However, I managed to get something resembling a burger into the bun and, with cheese, hot sauce and jalapeños, it was tasty enough. More of the same when I finish typing this entry. Strange Easter Day today, as I knew it would be. The best thing I saw today was a video Tom posted on FB of him and Molly doing a mashup of Starsailor and George Michael - Tom on guitar singing the former, Molly singing the latter. It was fucking fantatstic.

Day 21: Easter Monday. Surreal…it’s feeling very surreal now, this lockdown.

Two things that bother me right now:

i) The political point scoring on FB. I get it, I really do…people like to bring up ‘obvious’ failings in the party’s mistakes. For example, Marc posting comparisons between UK and Germany’s figures of cases and deaths due to Covid-19. I doesn’t make impressive reading for the government and it should be held accountable. But not fucking now!

ii) Will they introduce rotational furloughing at RCI? It’s only been a week, 11 to go. And, it bothers me that I was furloughed rather than Mark. Pathetic of me, I know! But, should it last the 12 week stretch, I want to go back to work and let someone else have the chance to have fuck all to do all day! That being said, I’m still learning web design through Shaw Academy. Even today, bank holiday, I revised Lesson 2.

Day22: Nice catchup with Dad today - he and Rita seem to be more than OK with lockdown. I actually cannot wait until we can meet up at The Farmers again!

Day 23: While I had a Corvee engineer come to the house today to do a gas safety check (I waited upstairs while he was here, self-isolation and all that), and had the fourth online web design lesson, had a trip to Boots to pick up insulin, got milk from Tesco’s, saw American Rachel and had a chat (while we both queued to get into Tesco’s) and had a very nice walk along a different route from the norm, in the pleasant sunshine and watched Contagion on Netflix - all today - I AM STILL BORED AS FUCK!

Day 24: I had plans for today - revise the last two lessons of Shaw Academy’s web design course, investigate a ethical hacking course, do some washing, clean upstairs (or at least the bathroom) plus all the usual stuff. Then, as a reward, have some beers. Well, guess what. I am not having beers this evening. I managed the laundry. Plus I manged to subtitle my YouTube perfect snabby video (something I have been meaning to do for a while, but, come on!) It took me fucking ages. But it is funny! So, a fucking far from fruitful day. Plus the government announced at least 3 more weeks of lockdown. There’ll be loads more, I reckon. Tomorrow…I promise I’ll be better tomorrow…

Day 25: I did do better! Firstly the Corveee man fucked the boiler which I only noticed late yesterday but still managed to get sorted today. I did some excellent revision and learning of HTML (tags) and CSS. I cleaned the bathroom and hall. And I discovered TikTok (fucking excellent dancing and funny vids) plus discovered a new FaceBook word game (Sam sent me an invite) called WordBlitz and I am pretty good. Having beers now (nearly 11pm).

Day 26: Today I found myself calling 111. I had a pain in my side last night, I thought it might be constipation! That not being the case (!), today I went to 111.nhs.uk and, following their questions, it recommended I seek out a GP straightaway. Once I let the website know that is not possible, it directed me to visit walk in centres. I spoke with Karen thereafter - for advice about whether it’s a good idea to enter such an establishment - I really don’t want to increase me chances of catching the Covid-19 virus. Karen recommended ringing 111 since the website does not take into account my diabetes (so bloody sensible a suggestion!)

After ringing and answering many questions, the lady said she’d get an OOHS GP to call. The doctor called soon after and it seems most likely I have a grumbling appendix (chronic appendicitis) and to ring again (well, 999) if the pain becomes unbearable.

I now have a bag at the ready for hospital which I really hope I don’t have to use. Today, I have, therefore, done fuck all - not even a walk - but I am having a beer now (midnight) and shall attempt to sleep as well as possible and hope this pain subsides naturally…

It occurs to me that I turn to Karen when things become flumoxing - my excuse, this time, is she works at the surgery but that was mere convenience.

Day 27: My ‘appendicitis pain was the same when I woke up (10:20) but no worse. I managed to change bed clothes and clean my bedroom but didn’t risk a walk (in case something drastic happens when I’m in a fucking field).

People’s responses and questions online have been heartening (Rachel Harris, Susie Grange, Bethan, Jo, Tracey Weber, Debbie De Prisco and, not least Dan). As the day progresses, I feel better but not right. I spoke with Dad about it and, as I told him, I shall ring Oundle GP tomorrow. Meanwhile, I did Sam Clew’s FB Live quiz, which was good, and am now having a beer or two.

Day 28: The pain in my side has definitley diminished. I called the Oundle surgery today to talk about what treatment I should have for ‘grumbling appendicitis’. The reseptionist organised a call back from a GP - Dr. Cash. Basically, he said he didn’t believe the condition existed, that acute appendicitis doesn’t happen after the age of 35, and ‘his gut felling’ is it will all just clear up.

I shall seek a more sensible diagnosis after lockdown and hope it doesn’t flare up again before then.

Day 29: I sent an email to the team at work today (Jim, Mark, Cristina and Sueanne). I hadn’t heard from them and I wanted to check in and, also, make a point that I will be posing the ‘rotational furlough’ question to HR at some point. It was as I wrote the email that I realised it’s only been two weeks and two days of furlough, and that includes Easter! Seems so much fucking longer. Anyway, everyone replied and it was good to hear from them….Mark came off his bike and broke ribs and collarbone! Lesson 5 of the Web Design course with Shaw Academy. It’s becoming apparent that, if you don’t pay for the course ‘toolkit’ it’s all rather patchy! The instructor dives into lines of code (HTML, CSS and Java) with no explanation….I feel like I did on the ifrst lesson of further maths ate Stamford School! I shall soldier on and beef up the missing parts with W3Schools (a great website and learning aid for coding). Two quick points. I am no longer running any part of my daily walk; hurts too much. I am addicted to Wordblitz and TikTok. Day30: I am writing this on day 31, I just forgot yesterday! It was a non eventful day. I did watch Midnight Run (again!) and had a couple of midweek beers though.

#diary #tumblr diary #lockdown #covid19 #lockdownuk

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sussex-nature-lover · 4 years ago

Text

Tuesday 16th February 2021

Normal Service and some Out of the Ordinary News

I’ve got to say that I don’t quite know where my head is at lately, let’s blame disturbed sleep shall we - might as well. I’ve been doing my customary waking around 2-3am and then napping, waking again around 5-6ish for the day and watching the cricket, which has taken up the best part of the morning. Although that makes the days seem long, they’ve been full and my blog has ended up being written piecemeal here and there and then being rather last minute. Inevitably errors occur when you write that way and I haven’t made the time to read through properly before pressing post. Usually I’m fairly meticulous, but I’ve ended up rushing, so I’ve resolved to do better. Side-note to both my football and the England crickets teams, you should do the same. Liverpool FC play tonight in Hungary, 8pm our time should you need to know (Champions’ League)

Yesterday was a very dull and grey day, cold, but not nearly as cold as of late. We had to go out to the Pharmacy and so took the car on a run just for the sake of keeping it in action.

We came back via the village where the younger Ms NW went to school and it was a very neat little journey. The hedges have had a really good cut.

It was just around this point in the lane where Crow and I did our second synchronised Woaaaaaa Woaaaaaaa of the week so far - that always makes us laugh. The first had been at a low level swoop behind our top shrubbery bed - couldn’t see what it was, but we thought it was the Buzzard. Yesterday it was an absolutely gorgeous Kestrel that flew from one side of the lane across the front of the car and off into the distance. We saw enough to register the lovely markings and beautiful chestnut colouring. I took a few other pictures of some nice looking cows and a field absolutely covered by Seagulls but to be honest they’re not all that exciting, so I’ll just leave the thoughts there.

What was exciting yesterday and I’ll go so far as to say, terribly exciting, was a brand new bird in the garden. Seriously, I can hardly believe it, so settle down and enjoy with me one of the most delightful and tiniest birds we’ve had here.

Let me set the scene, I was standing at the sink under the window, just pootling about and tidying things and a bright flash of red took my eye. I presumed Goldfinch, which would’ve been unusual as it’s been a while. But no, it wasn’t that pillar box type of red, it was more a deep and bright ruby pink. Chores abandoned and camera at the ready I took as many photos as I could considering that A) it was quite poor light and it was drizzling and B) this little bird hardly stayed still. Suffice to say I have A LOT of very blurry pics.

Enough introductory waffle, this is what I saw

Ladies and Gentlemen, a Redpoll. I have to say that its Latin name is absolutely charming. Carduelis cabaret. Isn’t that wonderful? It certainly lives up to that descriptor in my opinion, as every angle is a feast for the eyes.

Wikipedia says

The genus name Acanthis is from the Ancient Greek akanthis, a name for a small now-unidentifiable bird, and cabaret is the French name for a type of finch

That turns out to be somewhat disappointing really. I prefer to stick to my imaginary idea of them being an actual theatre show-stopper.

Anyway after establishing the Redpoll bit, as so often in the birding world (and the rest of the natural world to be fair) it all gets rather complicated.

For size perspective: House Sparrow and Redpoll. I said they’re tiny didn’t I

The full name for this species is actually the Lesser Redpoll, as relatively recently (year 2000) it was classified as a separate species from the very similar Common Redpoll (also called the Mealy Redpoll) which, despite the name, is not common in the UK at all.

Lesser Redpolls breed in the UK, whereas Common Redpolls are winter visitors only and generally just to the eastern side of the UK. There are subtle differences only between the two species, but it is the Lesser Redpoll that’s much more likely to be seen in gardens across the UK.

I’ve put a really excellent video towards the end of this blog which should make things clearer.

As you can tell from the shape of the bill, Redpoll is a Finch, a small Finch. This is particularly interesting as I keep bemoaning how we lack Finches here and yet last year we saw more Goldfinch in the garden than we ever have before; not big numbers, but more frequent visits. We had the return of a Greenfinch and evidence they’d had young and of course, lately a male Chaffinch has been here a lot. Apparently Redpoll will often flock with Siskin - another relatively common bird, but again, one we’ve not spotted in our garden. There’re probably loads in the woods who only come to the garden when we turn our backs!

SIZE GUIDE:

1.5–12.5 centimetres (4.5–4.9 in) long with a wingspan of 20–22.5 centimetres (7.9–8.9 in) and a weight of 9–12 grams (0.32–0.42 oz). The bill is short, conical and sharply pointed and is pale yellow with a dark tip.

Little Lesser Red Poll making the distant Robin look huge

Obviously all the information I have is collated from various searches I made on the internet: I read that the UK population of this lovely bird went into rapid decline since the 1970s and now stands at about 10% of the known figures at that time. There is no sound evidence currently available as to why, but studies have focused on the reduction in young forestry plantations, especially non-native Conifers (a favoured nesting location) and possibly a lessening of Birch trees. To counter that though, I have also read that since around 2010 there has been a marked increase in sightings in gardens. In the Spring the Redpoll will feed on insects and source caterpillars for its young, but in the Autumn and Winter it’s a seed eater, particularly enjoying the fine Niger seed which is suited to its small beak. It seems more people are feeding the birds in their gardens and Niger seed in particular is being employed more frequently as it attracts the colourful little birds.

Lesser Redpoll GB breeding population was estimated at around 220,000 breeding pairs (2016) but they are doing particularly well these days in N Ireland which boasted an additional 40,000 pairs.

The species is now listed as red status in the UK (see below)

Absolutely beautiful from every angle

You can just make out a small black bib in the photo above and from what I’ve read this is a male bird already displaying breeding colours, as seen by the extremely red-pink breast. It could be said it’s fairly ahead of the game with its timing.

More information from an outside source Here (pdf) which is a British Birding Association article from 2010 with some excellent photographs.

youtube

LISTING STATUS EXPLAINED:

The Red Listed birds are not necessarily terribly low in number - for example the Common House Sparrow. Starling and Song Thrush are in this category because of population decline.

Red List Criteria

Globally Threatened

A Serious Population Decline In The UK Between 1800 And 1995

A Decline Of At Least 50% In The UK Breeding Population Over The Last 25 Years Or Over A Longer-Term Period

A Contraction Of At Least 50% In The UK Breeding Range Over The Last 25 Years Or Since 1969

The RSPB say

"We use the red list to prioritise our action. We use it to identify which species need help immediately and take action. So, if there is research to do to find out what the problem is, and how to tackle it, then we’ll do that, then once we know what needs to be done to help them we’ll get on with it, whether it’s land management, species recovery projects or lobbying government.

"Prioritising is vital as we don’t have money and resources to work on everything, even within the red list we can’t prioritise action for all 67 species. In some cases we have to just keep a watching brief on a species until we have more resource to take action."

"The first step is considering what to do in your own outdoor spaces to create better habitats for wildlife. Those who have a garden could consider wildlife friendly gardening - create a pond, plant pollen rich flowers, or plant shrubs with berries for birds.

"Most of the data we use is collected by volunteers –if you know a little bit about birds you could get involved in data gathering with monitoring schemes, such as those run by the BTO in partnership with the RSPB."

I’m going to have a think about what projects we can embark on this Spring to help our garden birds even more and then, well, who knows what species might turn up. Even after 20 years here, there’s something to marvel at every single day.

WHAT ELSE DID I LEARN TODAY?

Mount Etna has erupted. If you look at this Twitter thread you can see photos and video

LINK

#Redpoll gardenbirds nature naturephotography #volcano Mount Etna

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tumblunni · 6 years ago

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BUNNI WATCHES RANDOM OUT OF ORDER SINNOH EPISODES THAT WERE LEFT ON THIS HARD DRIVE I GUESS

Today is diamond and pearl season one episode 28 "Drifloon On The Wind!"

Huh this one had a cold open showing the climactic moment from the end of the episode before it actually happened. Thats the first time i recall the anime doing that? I thougjt initially it was a flashback and i missed the first of a two parter.

Such a cool neat weird premise! A traditional pokemon centre out in the countryside! That adds so much worldbuilding to the setting! They never state it in the english dub but it seems to be a joke on a japanese onsen? (An inn built around hot springs) the archetecture just seems to be very similar, and from what i've seen in anime the "my mum and my mum's mum and my mum's mum's mum worked here" thing is a common trope. The nurse joy family is probably a joke to exaggerate it? Also i loved the scene where Brock is like "wait what the fuck this identical nurse joy is actually old enough to have a daughter ash's age and also OH NO A WEDDING RIIIIIING" And then he thankfully,blissfully GAVE UP and we had one nurse joy centric episode without him being a fuckboi. Seriously, the older you get the less funny you find brock, it sucks that the stuff that's meant to be over the top jokes is now barely more exaggerated than how some dudes act in real life. All you real life brocks, nobody finds you as charming as a fictional goofball! You're just rude! AND REAL BROCKS DONT HAVE A CROAGUNK TO STOP THEM

Anyway i LOVE the cute cottagey aesthetic pokemon center/hotel place! It seems the family mostly treats wild pokemon in the forest and they were actually so surprised to see customers that they thought they were burglars at first! And then daww ash and co help out doing chores to pay them back for the meal and bed even though the family is like 'no dude thats the duty of a pokemon centre'. I think that was a really mature moment for ash? He realized that this pokemon center gets less business than usual ones and figured he should give them a hand. And its so nice to see him being so super excited and wowed by the chores?? Like i mean its CHORES but for him its all so new cos its learning how to work in a pokemon center. Ash's best characrer trait is how his enthusiasm really has no limits, he'll go 100% be the best choremon master ever! Or maybe he was intentionalky being all THIS IS SO FUN because the joy daughters were fighting and he wanted to help cheer them up? In a lot of ways i prefer season 1's bratty egotistical sarcasm ash just cos he had more of a visible personality and you didnt have to sorta sleuth it out like this and always be left wondering whether they really meant to write nice-Ash this way or you're just imagining it. But when nice-Ash has monents like this he's way better and i just wish it hapoened more often and was 100% confirmed, yknow? Most of the time in sinnoh he feels less like nice-ash and more like nothing-ash or changes-every-day-into-whatever-the-plot-requires-him-to-be-ash. But in sun and moon season they have all those more slice of lifey and emltional plots and he's the more nicer ash that i always wanted, and i love it!

Anyway lol im going wildly off topic. Also fun fact i spell "the" wrong so much that "tge" is the first result in my autocorrect now...

Another thing i like is that these Joys seem to be a ghost type specialist family? The kids have a big pile of drifloon cuties and when the gang first arrived they saw a bunch of happy gastlys enjoying their stay at the inn. I like to think maybe all the ghosts they have are "drifty" types like that? I feel that the writers ppicked gastly cos the pokedex entry saying they blow away on the wind like drifloon. Cos this is actually the valley windworks adaptation episode! That was such a nice surprise when it turned out momma joy's husband was the windmill electrician guy!! He looks SO cute in the anime too! He's really chubby and has such a nice round face with a button nose and big anime eyes and a cute turquoise jacket electrician uniforn thing. And he's funny and goofy with his kids and very caribg and cautious about letting them ride home alone in the bad weather, and also he's a GIANT BADASS with an ampharos that thunderpunches the shit out of team rocket and defeats them before ash can even get there lol! Actually they never show what momma joy's main pokemon is? I like to think maybe its a gengar cos thats the most chansey-ish ghost type. And also itd mean the chubby guy has a tall and thin pokemon and his tall and thin wife has a chubby pokemon. Theyre such a cute couple so itd be even cuter!

Oh and i forgot to mention that everyone travels around via drifloon??? Thats so surreal when you consider their pokedex entries saying them carrying children is a bad thing that means theyre kidnapoing them. Like, they domesticated a very dangerous pokemon and now it uses its dangerousness for the powers of good instead! Maybe its just the anime censoring a scary thing or maybe it was intentional to show how badass this momma joy is that she could tame so many spoopy ghosts that everyone thinks are pure evil? Seriously i LOVE how they show this family working to protect and heal the local wild pokemon and them all being super friendly to humans because of it. And it makes sense theyd be ghost tyoe trainers cos if youre befriending all the pokemon in a forest youre bound to find a few lost souls. Mountains and forests are like the deadliest areas for travellers so mountain forests especially so! Everyone's lucky they have this badass family team watching over the area like guardian spirits~

OH SPEAKING OF WHICH

I forgot to mention that the main conflict of the episode is that the joy sisters have a fight because the older sister is a bit overprotective and dismissive of her little sister, causing her to be reckless and get lost trying to "be grown up and help mommy". And in the end the big sister rescues her with the help of the guardian spirit of the hot springs and they reconcile their differences and have big cute hugs! Its all very well written and dramatic actually.i really felt for the older sister's determination to save her, and i felt it was a good case of a conflict where both of them were wrong and both made mistakes and it was just like they coulda avoided those mistakes if they talked it out better. And both of them had a point at the same time, yknow? So it didnt end with either of them losing the argument or anything, it was more like the lesson is just to appreciate your siblings while theyre there and also talk about your problems in clear language with younger kids instead of using excuses like "you just cant, cos im older and i said so".

Oh also SUICUNE!

The super onsen spirit is suicune?? The little sister just casually mentions her biggest best friend in the forest is suicune and is surprised when ash says its a legendary! Wow thats actually a really cool idea? You wouldnt necessarily think of it cos you kinda think of hot springs for the hot part but theyre also a sort of super clean water like how suicune is meant to be able to purify polluted lakes. Maybe it came here to make its nest cos places that are already purified are comforting to someone who wanders the earth blasting stinky water with its powers every day. I like to think maybe this is the same suicune from Generations where they said the legendary beasts are roaming legendaries because humans treated them as demons when they first walked out of the ashes, and now theyre still scared of us even centuries later. Itd be sad if they literally kept running forever, so i like to think they all have a comforting spot to sleep in, somewhere. And for suicune its this little isolated lake in the sinnoh region which used to be super far away from human civilization. But then this family's ancestors built this hospital here and suicune was initially like "oh no my house is ruined" but then it saw that these humans were helping protect tge forest pokemon too. So its like "ah fellow coworkers" and theyre the only humans it trusts. And whenever theyre in trouble it sneakily helps them and dashes away before it can be seen, but one day it got unlucky and the kids saw it and now OH NO it is stuck havibg CUTE TINY FRIENDS! I bet the littlest joy just treats suicune like a big puppy, and this great noble beast of legend plays along because it loves her so much. But if anyone else sees it demeaning itself with a game of fetch, it would be Total Social Death In The Legendaries Club

Anyway there's some cute moments of Emotionally Wise Kind Ash The Best Of All Ashes where he finds the lost little-joy and he tries to cheer her up when she's scared by the storm and keep her dry from the rain. And he has absolute faith that his friends will come to save them both! The only thing i think coukd have maybe made it better is if the big sister joy didnt beleive in suicune? Cos it just ends with her going to ask suicune for help and then suicune helps. There's a lack of tension cos you know suicune could easily resolve all this and you already know suicune is real cos the lil sis says that big sis told her to keep it a secret cos its a Big Deal and Bad People Could Take Suicune Away and stuff. Like it might have worked better if the big sis thought that little sis was just making up rumours to be all boastful, or playing with an imaginary friend. Then her going to ask suicune for help would have symbolized something, yknow? And the audience might have been tense about whether it was real or not.

But even without that added suggestion it was still a great episode! Lots of cuteness, emotionalness, familyness and a few great jokes along the way! Also i just loved them giving unique character designs and a full backstory to these minor npcs from the game. Whenever i play it now i'm totally gonna headcanon this all as true! I mean all we know about the daughter character in the game is that she says "papa youre stinky but i still love you" and that feels very in character for the slightly mischievious little sis joy that we meet in this episode. Though you only see the one daughter and she acts like she hasnt caught a drifloon yet and dreams of seeing it if you can fix the windmill problems so it'll come back. So maybe the game version takes place a little before the anime? Like, that daughter is the engineer dad's daughter from a previous relationship and the older daughter is joy's daughter from a previous relationship. And i dunno maybe lil daughter's hair colour actually is the generic npc brown from the games but she begged her momma to dye it so she could match. Like she just loves her new momma and sister so much!! And now the struggling mountain poke-center is doing better because both parents work difderent jobs now and have enough money combined to be able to keep the family in a better quality of life. And maybe the team galactic incident at the valley windworks got it a bit of publicity as a tourist destination? and after the daughter caught that drifloon everyone who visited was like GOSH ITS SO CUTIE and the dad was like "yes our special windmill attracts these pokemon that are normally only found high up on the mountains, speaking of which my wife runs an inn up there and you can go on pokemon wildlife tours to see them in their natural habitat!" And just I LOVE THESE GUYS AND I WANT THEM TO HAVE ALL THE SUCCESS IN THEIR LIFE!! There is NOTHING better than "hey we're adapting this gane what should we do?" "Add MORE FAMBLY" Like oh my god whoever had that wonderful idea should be promoted!

Thus ends bunni's disjointed review of FAMBLY EPISODE

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dreamscript · 8 years ago

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The Countdown

Taehyung googles his symptoms and convinces himself he’s got a week to live, Yoongi’s coerced into helping write his will, and you’re just trying not to go insane.

a belated birthday present for the wonderful amazingly perfect @taesthetes !!! it’s three days late, unfortunately. See end for full list of disclaimers and notes.

6.7k words, fluff + comedy, taehyung/reader, normalverse

It begins with a cough.

A singular cough, insubstantial to the larger picture. Taehyung ignores it. That is, until suddenly his chest and throat seize and he feels this strange pressure and irresistible scratchy feeling that results in a whole slew of coughing and hacking.

With a grunt he slumps into his chair and immediately fumbles for his phone. The coughing’s stopped now, but the feeling of impending doom has yet to go away. As do the slightly woozy, borderline-feverish feeling and the sniffling of his nose.

Quickly, before he can possibly drop dead, he dials the number of the one person he can trust in times like these:

You.

(Because his actual doctor–who happens to be his longtime friend–is out of the country.)

// SEVEN DAYS LEFT

“–and my head feels kind of funny and my limbs are kind of sore and everything just kind of sucks, you know?” Taehyung babbles. You nod, half-listening, as you dip the towel into the bowl of water. So far, for the past thirty minutes, you’ve been on wet towel duty. All you have to say for yourself is that neither you nor Taehyung have had any experience in the medical field, and the only afflictions you can handle are a mild bloody nose and minor scratches.

Not fevers and what seems to be a cold, if not a flu. Taehyung tends to exaggerate a bit so you can never be too sure.

“You need to go see your doctor, Tae,” you say, changing the damp, now slightly warm cloth on his forehead. You gently press the cool towel to his skin.

“But I can’t.”

You frown. “What do you mean you can’t?” A question about his financial situation lingers at the tip of your tongue.

“Because he–Jin–isn’t here. Don’t you remember? We were all there last week when he told us he’d be out of the country. He said he wouldn’t be back till like, next month.”

You roll your eyes, all worries about money gone. Of course. He’s surprisingly picky about who gets to take care of him, especially for someone who is typically almost a bit too outgoing and open on a normal basis.

“Well I’m pretty sure all the other doctors in his office are just as capable,” you assure him. “Plus, it’s certainly not helping you at all just lying on the couch burning away.”

“No, no,” he mumbles. “I can’t–doctor’s office–far away.” He groans pitifully and reaches out to clutch your hand. The way he curls in on himself and buries his face into the pillow is so adorable you have to control yourself from squealing.

“Aw, look at you, poor little sick puppy,” you coo, reaching to stroke his hair with your free hand. “I get it, you’re feeling a bit too sickly to drag yourself out of bed and to the doctor’s office, right?” He nods. “Then I guess that’s okay then…but make sure you go there tomorrow. As soon as possible, really. Even if you’re feeling kind of shitty. Because the doctor’s will make you feel less shitty, promise.”

He makes a mumbling noise and it’s only then that you realize he’s drifted off to sleep. His hand is warm and soft. You give it a small squeeze.

Back at your house, you relax against the sofa and contentedly sip at the cup of hot tea. Thanks–sort of–to Taehyung, your day had been a bit more hectic than planned. Not that you entirely minded, really. Taking care of him would never be a chore, but it still doesn’t make it any less tiring.

Never have you thought of dipping towels in cold water as tiring, but you suppose anything, if done for long enough, can become rather physically taxing.

“So how’s Taehyung?” Jin asks through the phone. “I hope he doesn’t get sick or anything, the one time I actually have to leave for an extended period. And to a foreign country, no less.”

You groan and rub your temples. “He’s come down with a fever, but I have a feeling it’s just the cold that’s been going around. I still think he should go see a doctor, but he’s absolutely refusing to see anyone else but you.”

Jin curses quietly into the receiver. “Damn. Well, I highly doubt it’s anything terminal.”

“I’d hope not.”

“And it sucks that I probably won’t be able to make or receive any more calls after today until next month…” Jin trails off. “Actually, I think I might be able to do one of those internet calls. You know, through an app? Like LINE or Kakao Talk or Facebook Messenger?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Though you might need a VPN to use those features, especially if you’re not going to have any data. It’s finding a good VPN that’s hard.”

“Hm,” Jin murmurs. “Well, I’ll figure all of that out once I’m settled in. For now I gotta go–flight’s boarding. Talk to you later.”

// SIX DAYS LEFT

Taehyung wakes up god-knows-how-much-later, blinking blearily up at his ceiling. It’s dark and hard to make out, just like everywhere else in his room. Groaning, he turns on his side and shuts his eyes again–except he can’t really sleep since he feels sort of hot but he’s also kind of cold and–

His eyes fly open. This can’t be good. He probably has a fever, and everyone knows that fevers aren’t good. Weakly, he calls out your name, hoping that you’re still around. He frowns, slightly heartbroken, when you don’t answer. You must’ve left, then. He doesn’t exactly blame you. Of course you’d probably have other things to do, and sitting around in a quiet apartment with an unconscious body is probably not one of them.

But–never mind you. Right now, he’s got to worry about himself, because there’s definitely something wrong with him, and while it may just be some common cold, it could also be something much more serious…

(He recalls the last time he wrote a sickness off as “just a cold” he’d fainted, woken up in a hospital bed hours later, and was informed that he did, in fact, have pneumonia.)

Now without a caretaker (no matter how medically inept) and no one else to call upon (who wouldn’t ignore him for the first twenty calls and thirty-two texts he sends, that is), Taehyung turns to the only other thing in the room that could provide him the answers he so desperately seeks:

The computer.

You amble into your room, taking off your shoes and stretching. Your eyes scan the kitchen, searching for your phone; you know you’d left it somewhere before leaving the house…

Ah. On the counter.

You walk over and swipe it up, unlocking the screen to examine your notifications. You’ve gotten a few snapchats, two texts from Yoongi, and a missed call and voicemail from Taehyung. Three missed calls, actually. You frown. Tae typically doesn’t call–much less leave a voicemail–unless he’s got good reason to, and considering his condition from yesterday…

You groan. God, you’d almost forgotten. You feel awful now. An entire day has passed since you’d left him home alone, and you’d completely forgotten to check up on him…

With infinite guilt, you unlock your phone and resolve to call him up after listening to his voicemail. It’s really short–less than ten seconds long.

And for the first few seconds, all you hear is silence.

Well, suffocating static and Taehyung’s (at least, you hope it’s Taehyung’s) heavy breathing. Then–a choked sob.

“_______,” Taehyung wails. “I’m dying.”

And that’s all you need to grab his spare key and dash over to his apartment.

“TAEHYUNG!” You burst into his place unceremoniously, stumbling over your own toes in the process. With a swift backwards kick, the door is slammed shut and the keys land on the counter with a clink. “WHERE ARE YOU?

“I’m…here…” comes a weak reply. “Bed…room…”

You fling open the door to his room, bracing yourself to see a bleeding body on the ground–

He looks up at you with tired eyes, fingers twitching on his laptop’s keyboard. “So I take it you got my voicemail?” He groans and sets his laptop aside, shutting it.

You nod, slightly shaken. “So? What’s going on? Did your fever reach 104 degrees? That’s really bad, you know, we have to get to you to a hospital–”

“No,” he says, waving his hand slightly. “No, not yet.”

You stop in your rambling and stare at him, narrowing your eyes a bit. “If you aren’t in immediate danger, then why…?”

He takes a deep breath. “I’m not in immediate danger, but, god.” He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “I googled my symptoms, you know, since no one else was around, and after much intensive research, I’ve concluded I have miraculously contracted a terminal disease. And I’ve only a week to live, at best.” Taehyung stops to look at you with baleful eyes.

“Taehyung…I don’t…” you chuckle out of the sheer madness of the situation. “I’m not comprehending. Sorry. If anything, I think you’ve kind of lost it, no offense.”

“Don’t you understand now?” Taehyung pleads, “I’m going to die.”

“No you’re not,” you reply tersely. You’ve had enough of this. He almost definitely has a cold, or something–you reach out and press cool fingers against his burning forehead. “Now go to sleep. You’re just sick–it’ll be fine. You’ll get over it soon.”

“But what if I don’t wake up? What if–”

“Taehyung,” you say, firmly. You look him in the eye for good measure. “Go to sleep before I make you.” You crack your knuckles threateningly and loom over him. Obviously, the situation probably isn’t going to end in violence–he never really puts up much of a fight anyway–but intimidation always seems to get him, especially when most vulnerable. Taehyung visibly gulps.

“Okay.”

// FIVE DAYS LEFT

Taehyung wakes up, feeling something hard pressed up against his cheek. Sleepily, grouchily, he blinks open his eyes, feels around with his hands to identify the unknown object. It’s his laptop. He grunts and wills himself to flop over onto the other side of the bed, though in the process his arm overstretches and brushes against the corner of his nightstand… and he feels yet another unknown object.

The sound of crinkling paper has his eyes opening again. Because he knows, for a fact, he did not write anything yesterday. Taehyung snatches the mysterious paper up, half surprised, half pleased to find that it is in your handwriting:

Tae, you are in idiot. Don’t scare me like that; I thought you were actually dying for a second there!

Anyways, here are your meds. Take them every six hours or so. Don’t overdo it or else you might actually die. Call me if there are any problems.

He grins at the note, feeling a warm something in his chest. And then he feels immediate panic because he’s then reminded of his current situation, entering into Freak Out Mode because he remembers he’s actually dying and he’s only got five days left to live.

Think, think, think, he tells himself. What do people do when their days are numbered and ending fast? They usually go and apologize to all the people they’ve hurt, make sure they don’t leave without regrets… and their things, what do they do with all the things they leave behind–

A will! Taehyung smiles wide at the sudden epiphany. He needs to write a will.

Except, the only issue is that he has no idea how to write one. As useful as the internet is, he’d much rather prefer the guidance of a trusted peer…

Someone like…

He smirks, reaching for his phone.

Yoongi.

“Fuck ya want?” Yoongi answers after the fifth call, which is unexpected. Taehyung had been prepared to make at least ten more calls.

“A favor,” Taehyung replies, almost giddy. A bit too giddy for someone about to write their will and is going to die in a matter of days. “I need you to help me write something very very important.”

“Gimme a damn good reason why,” Yoongi drawls, clearly still half-asleep. “Two seconds, Kim. Else I’ll hang up and block your number.”

“Well, if it’s come down to this,” Taehyung says, narrowing his eyes. “Should I remind you of the park incident? I still haven’t deleted the vid–”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.” And then Yoongi hangs up with a click and a beep.

Having shamefully forgotten about him yesterday, you naturally make extra note to remind yourself to go check up on Taehyung today.

When you arrive at his apartment, however, you are met with the rare sight of him and Yoongi, together, in a room, alone, sitting peacefully in front of a computer on the ground, working. You slap your cheek just to make sure you aren’t hallucinating.

You take a tentative step towards them. “Hello?”

Taehyung immediately straightens up and turns to look at you. “You’re here! Hi, wow! Come in, make yourself comfortable. It’s actually perfect that you’re here now, because Yoongi and I were just typing up my will, and I was just hoping, as one of my closest friends, that you’d come over and look at it, or something…”

What. You shift your gaze to glare at Yoongi. He intently studies the wall, seemingly blissfully unaware of your presence. Typical ass of a friend. Back to Taehyung it is.

“Why–what…”

“It’s because I’m going to die,” Taehyung explains, with infinite patience. “I need to write myself a will before that happens, so, so I won’t have any of you guys fighting for possession of my things, because we all know how bad those stories go, in which people start backstabbing and killing each other and–”

“Taehyung. You’re not. Going. To die.”

“Yes I am!” He looks desperately at Yoongi. “Yoongi! Tell her I’m going to die! You believe me right?”

Yoongi looks at him, then you. His expression looks dead. In fact, he looks much closer to Death itself than Taehyung does. “Yeah. Totally. Taehyung’s going to die,” he says tonelessly. “How unfortunate.”

You roll your eyes. No matter how sarcastic, you really weren’t expecting Yoongi of all people to play along.

“Okay, well, if you’re so convinced that you’re going to die, why don’t you go to the hospital then?” You glare down at Taehyung.

He shakes his head. Stubborn ass.

“Because I don’t trust any of the other doctors!”

You give him a look and he stares back up at you, wild-eyed.

“What do you mean you don’t trust any of the other doctors? Did something happen? Did you read the reviews online?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s just–Jin is the only doctor I know who would hit me upside the head and tell me I’m being dumb. And I need to take care of myself. And that I’m getting kinda fat. Mostly he tells me I’m dumb though.”

You blink at him. Taehyung blinks back. You snap your head over to look at Yoongi, who shoots you a look from the corner of his eye. And, in that brief moment, it is tacitly understood between the two of you that if Taehyung were to die of anything by the end of the week, it would be the result of his own stupidity.

“You–you do realize what you just said, right?”

Taehyung nods miserably. “Look, it sounds kind of weird, but he’s the only guy who would do that and that just exemplifies the amount of trust–”

“But–Tae. Your argument is so fucking ridiculous I don’t even know where to begin.” You stare at him, shock still evident on your face. He scowls slightly. “Like. First of all, how the hell does insulting his patient make him a good doctor–”

“Because–!”

“Two, how does not insulting one’s patient make a doctor untrustworthy, and three, just what the hell?”

“Y-you just don’t get it!” he huffs, resigned. He crosses his arms childishly and coughs in indignation. “Jin and I just have a special connection!”

“Uh huh. That still doesn’t change the fact that your argument is ridiculous.” In fact, you think, it makes it even worse.

“Whatever.” His current attitude reminds you of your teenage years.

“_______,” Yoongi says quietly. “Leave him alone–he still needs to rest.” You side eye Taehyung, then turn back to Yoongi.

“Fine.”

As you and Yoongi leave, you can vaguely hear Taehyung sniffling about “fake friends” and “dumb doctors.”

“Taehyung’s really worried, you know,” Yoongi says. You roll your eyes and scuff your shoe against the sidewalk.

“No shit. I’d venture to say that he’s a bit too worried.”

“He’s anxious,” Yoongi says, slipping his hands into his pants pockets. You eye them enviously. Stupid guy’s pants and their absurdly big and deep pockets. “And also paranoid,” he adds after a moment. “Try to take his actions with a grain of salt, eh?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “As if I haven’t figured that out already. It still doesn’t change the fact that he’s been so ridiculously stubborn on the matter, though.”

Yoongi shrugs. “And just yelling at him all the time isn’t necessarily going to make him have a change in heart, if he’s as stubborn as you say him to be.”

You frown. Just whose side was he on? “Oh? At least it helps me vent a bit of my frustration.” You know you’re sounding kind of petty, but you’re currently a bit more than irked. Can’t always keep up the Collected demeanor, after all. Life’s a struggle.

“I can see that.” Yoongi stops and turns back to look at you. “Just–keep his feelings in mind, okay? Pay close attention to them. And him.”

You give him a strange look. “What do you mean by that?”

Naturally, of course, Yoongi chooses not to answer. Instead, he takes a sharp turn, down an alleyway, slipping easily into the shadows. You roll your eyes. You’d expected just as much.

// FOUR DAYS LEFT

“I can’t believe I’ve got four days left to live and you don’t even care!” Taehyung moans mournfully, holding his hands out in front of him as if begging for you to give a fuck. You sigh and hit him on the head. Even though his fever has since died out (thankfully), he’s still absolutely convinced his situation is only getting worse, increasingly dire.

“You’re not going to die,” you say for the umpteenth time. “At least, not within the week. And not from whatever illness you think you have.”

“Bronchiectasis,” he says. “And it’s terrible!” He throws his hands up in the air now for added emphasis. “My lungs become irreversibly damaged and I can’t clear up any mucus and bacteria starts to breed and everything just gets infected–” he pauses to suck in air “–so then I won’t be able to breathe and then I’ll die. It can’t be cured either, by the way!”

“And you’re convinced you have this because?” Yoongi asks from the couch. He’d also decided to drop by, just to help Taehyung finish writing up his will. Much to your chagrin.

(You’d smacked him upside the head when you found out, hissing, “Don’t encourage him!” Yoongi merely shrugged, saying that Taehyung would eventually need to write a will, anyway. What better time than now to write it? “It’s called frontloading your work,” he’d said. Ass.)

“I coughed,” he says. “That’s on the list. And I’ve been coughing a lot.”

You stare at him, speechless, but with a million things to say. It’s just the matter of thinking of what to start out with that’s making it hard for you.

“Taehyung…”

He hurriedly holds up a hand at you. “No, no, I know what you’re about to say. Listen. It’s not just the coughing–you know. I mean, that’s the main part, but symptoms of bronchiectasis also include fevers and shit, too. And also the condition in which you cough up blood–hemoptysis, I think it’s called–which I haven’t exhibited–yet.”

As Yoongi looks on at the two of you bickering, back and forth, he can’t help but recall an earlier conversation with Taehyung:

“Hm, well, Jin is easy. I’d leave a note to him, telling him that it’s okay, it wasn’t his fault I died. What I had was terminal and irreversible,” Taehyung says, tapping his chin in thought. He frowns. “As I thought, coming up with last words is kinda hard. Like, a part of me wants to sound Cool and Collected while another part of me is totally freaking out and over the top emotional about it.”

Yoongi nods, not really listening. He’s trying to proofread Taehyung’s will, and, if he were honest, currently wondering just how the hell Taehyung managed to make it past middle school with his writing skills. There hasn’t been a single paragraph void of basic errors.

“And for Jimin, oh gosh, Jimin,” Taehyung groans. “He’s going to be so sad! In fact, I think he might pass out before he can even hear my final words to him. I think I need to say something comforting to him, maybe like ‘Even in death I’ll still be your best friend!’” Taehyung frowns. “No, no, that’s kind of dumb. Gah–I give up. I’ll think of something cooler later.”

Yoongi hums. “Have you thought about what you’re going to say to everyone else, then? What about me?”

“Hey, I can’t tell you that, can I? I have to keep it a secret, a surprise! It’s a surprise!”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Sure.” He deletes a gibberish sentence. “Then, what about, you know…her?”

At that, Taehyung quiets down. He lets out a soft puff of breath. “I–don’t know,” he says, finally. “I’m still so conflicted, Yoongi. I’m like, I want to tell her all the things, but then I’m still a total wuss, so…”

Yoongi sighs. Troublesome. “You know,” he says. “I really think that should tell her your feelings. If you don’t, we both know you’re going to be moving on with some serious regrets.”

Taehyung remains silent. Contemplative. He doesn’t talk for so long that Yoongi goes back to editing his will.

“Hey, Yoongi,” he says, quietly.

“Yeah?”

“When I’m gone,” Taehyung mumbles. “Promise me–you’ll…take care of her? You know, in a best friend kind of way. Look out for her for me. In my place.”

Yoongi studies his expression: forlorn, broken, anxious.

“Okay.”

Presently, he silently wishes Taehyung luck. Taehyung and you.

“–but since I’ve only got a few more days left, I’m bound to start coughing up blood, so when that happens, I’ll be sure to call you up so you can see the evidence for yourself.”

You sigh, exasperated. Just as you’re about to say something, however, Yoongi decides to bring the tension in the room down a notch, and unceremoniously drops Taehyung’s laptop in front of him.

“Enough with all the arguments,” Yoongi says. “Taehyung’s still got the final two sections of his will to write. Can’t have him dying with an unfinished will.”

Your reaction, for the most part, is expected. Which is why he’s able to dodge the pillow that’s hurled at him, remain impervious to your frustrated groan, and doesn’t even flinch when the door slams shut.

Yoongi smirks.

// THREE DAYS LEFT

Jimin comes over and visits on Taehyung’s supposed third-to-last day on Earth. He brings with him a bouquet of flowers–you’d raised your brows and he’d simply shrugged, unwrapping them from their plastic covering and plopping the colorful arrangement into a vase–and some of Taehyung’s favorite snacks.

Taehyung squeals with joy upon seeing the snacks, and then smiles brightly up at Jimin. His focus always seems to be on food. Unsurprisingly.

“Wow, thanks so much, Jimin,” he says, tugging open a bag of chips. “I didn’t think you’d come and visit, with you being busy with work and all…”

“Well, one’s always gotta make time for their friends, right?” Jimin bashfully scratches the back of his head. “Especially those in need.”

“Jimin,” Taehyung says, beginning to munch happily on the snacks. “You’re an angel.” The so-called angel laughs. Taehyung smiles back. The sunshine streaming in from the window glints off both of their faces in a manner that makes them look so innocent and happy…

Only for the moment to be ruined by Taehyung’s sudden coughing, and then his groans of not having an appetite and “if only this goddamned cough would go away!” With a flick of a hand you push him back and tuck him into his bed.

Jimin looks down at his friend, concern etched over his face. “What’s he come down with?”

“I’d say the flu, but he supposedly has this fatal bronchitis or something,” you say.

“Bronchiectasis,” Taehyung corrects weakly. “Unlike bronchitis, it’s irreversible and deadly. And I’ve only got three days left to live!”

Unsurprisingly, Jimin believes him. “What? Oh my god–have you seen a doctor about this yet? There has to be some way, you know. Just the other day I was reading an article about advancements in the medical field since the nineteenth century–I mean, come on. It’s still too early to lose hope, you know. I mean, it’s never too early, you just got to–”

“Jimin,” you say. “It’s okay. And no, he hasn’t seen a doctor about this yet, because he’s very distrustful of any doctor that isn’t Jin, who conveniently happens to be in China for a month. And he doesn’t have any sort of coverage over there apparently, so he can’t be contacted.”

Jimin gasps, covering his mouth with both hands. “Oh no, that’s just so–that’s so terrible!” He turns and looks at Taehyung, desperately grabs both of the boy’s hands. “I’m so sorry that this has happened to you, I wish I could do something…” You can see tears beginning to well up at the corners of his eyes.

Quickly, before the situation can get any worse, you remove Jimin from Taehyung and gently push him out of the room.

“Wait, I’m not done yet!” Jimin struggles against you as Taehyung calls out to him. You’re reminded of those dramatic scenes in movies and plays in which the star-crossed lovers are forcibly shoved apart by their own family and friends. Oh, the woe.

“Jimin,” you whisper into his ear. “He doesn’t actually have a terminal illness. Just extreme paranoia and gullible…ness.” He looks at you with confusion evident on his face. You manage to walk the two of you out of the room, shutting the door behind you.

“Huh? So was he just lying to me?”

You shrug. “No, as far as he knows, he was telling the truth. But the truth in his mind’s all twisted and fake. So he technically was lying to you, but without meaning to. Anyways, I’ve got to get back in there before the idiot starts thinking I’d abandoned him and begins to cry out–just ask Yoongi for the details.”

“Um, okay.” Jimin looks bewildered but pulls out his phone. “Tell Taehyung I gotta run. Work.”

You give him a nod and head back into the room, where Taehyung asks for a hug and then drifts off to sleep. After you hug him, of course. He smells like sunshine and happiness.

And also bitter cough syrup and feverish sweat.

// TWO DAYS LEFT

On his second-to-last day, you spend a good deal of the morning scrubbing at Taehyung’s carpet, wall, and just about every surface he’d managed to bleed onto.

“Ah’m goin’ tuh blweed out ‘n dah,” Taehyung says dramatically, voice nasally. He readjusts his grip on his nose, shifting the wad of tissues between his fingers.

“For once in a long time, I’m actually inclined to believe you,” you mutter. Hair tied back, you let out an undignified snort as you accidentally inhale the fumes of the carpet cleaner. “Seriously, how much blood have you bled out from your nose? This has got to be like your third nosebleed since waking up this morning.”

He grumbles unhappily. “Kin ah let go naw? Mah fungers are crampin’ ‘n ah bet mah nos-trols are misshap’n.”

You glance at the clock. “No, you can’t let go now. You’ve still got at least a minute left–bear with it. It takes time to form a blood clot, you know. And of course your nostrils will be misshapen. That kinda comes with the whole pinching your nose thing.”

He pouts.

You’re just making yourself a nice bowl of cereal–that you’d procured from Taehyung’s pantry, of course–when you hear a high-pitched shriek come from the bathroom.

“COME HERE!” Taehyung yells. “IT’S–IT’S HAPPENING!”

You jog over to the bathroom with building concern as he continues to shriek and yell and act completely out of his mind. The door is ajar, and you can see Taehyung bent over the sink, staring into it with undisguised horror.

“What’s happened now?”

He points at the sink with a shaking finger. “I–I was just washing up, when I started coughing a whole lot again, and then, and then I felt this kind of slimy thing at the back of my throat and–” you lean in to see what he’s pointing at “–THIS came out! I told you! I’ve begun to cough up blood! I’m a dying man.”

You let out a snort from your nostrils. Sure, true to his word, that is blood. But it is thick and dark, not bright and runny.

“The blood that you ‘coughed’ up is just the blood clot that formed from your nosebleed,” you say, with assurance. Mostly slight annoyance. You go to tug him out of the bathroom. “You’re not actually coughing up blood. The clot must’ve slid from the back of your nose to your throat–a common occurrence, by the way. You’re not dying. You’re fine.”

“But what if it isn’t? What if it’s truly hemoptysis?” he challenges. He refuses to budge. Sighing, you give up and reach down to one of the sink cabinets, finding a canister of salt. (Why he ever put that in there is a complete mystery to you, even after all these years.) Wordlessly, you fill a cup with water and shake a bit of salt into it, then stir the mixture with the end of his toothbrush.

“Here,” you say, handing the saltwater to him. “Gargle your throat with this. It’ll help, or some shit.”

Reluctantly, Taehyung obeys. He empties the cup out and rinses it, sets it out to dry.

“Good, now, sleep,” you say, pushing him out of the bathroom and to the bed. He manages to stop you at the living room, hanging onto one of the sofas for dear life.

“Wait,” he begs. “I don’t wanna sleep! Not yet!”

You raise a brow at him. “So what do you suggest we do instead?”

He looks up at you with a pout and those puppy eyes. Oh, you’re fucked. You’re a goner and you both know that.

“Can we…watch movies instead?” He sticks his lip out even more. You try to resist but immediately give up.

“Ugh,” you say, plopping down onto the sofa. You pat the spot next to you and Taehyung happily sits down. “Fine.”

He smiles widely and immediately turns to TV on, starting up Netflix. You smile wryly at his happy expression, defeated. Damn him.

Two and a half movies in and Taehyung’s softly snoring away on your shoulder, having lost his battle to exhaustion in the midst of the epic duel between Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom in their scene from the first Pirates of the Caribbean.

You roll your eyes and mutter something about him being childish, and attempt to pick him up…only to fail. Heavy…

With a resigned grunt, you go to his bedroom to instead retrieve his blankets and a pillow, gently laying him down on the sofa. Just as you get up again, however, his hand shoots out to clutch at your wrist.

You look down at him, surprised. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Stay,” he rasps, completely ignoring your comment. “Please?”

You merely gulp and nod.

And stay you do.

// ONE DAY LEFT

You wake up in his apartment with a cramped back, having fallen asleep sitting up, slumped over the sofa and positioned on the ground. Urgh. You arch backwards, letting out soft grunts as your back makes satisfactory popping noises.

Taehyung wakes up an hour or so later, and by then it’s mid-afternoon. You proceed to shove some porridge down his mouth while he tries to weasel his way out of the “sick food.”

He fails, of course.

The rest of the day proceeds fairly normally, though there’s this strange tension that hangs in the air, and doesn’t quite make itself present until later in the evening…

“_______,” Taehyung calls. His voice is soft and vulnerable-sounding. As if any louder, he’d be overworking himself. He’s back on the sofa again, with you sitting on the ground next to him. Again.

“Yes?” Your tone is gentle in response. Absentmindedly you stroke his hair. You’d been using his current condition as an excuse to run your fingers through his soft locks–to “comfort him,” you’d justify.

“I’m sorry.”

Taken slightly aback by his words, you look down at him. “Sorry? What for?” Even though his sheer idiocy does get on your nerves at times, it isn’t necessarily something he has to apologize for. After all, sometimes one’s anxiety could get the best of them.

“For making you go through all this,” he confesses. “I know you probably have other things to do but–”

“Shut up,” you say. He looks shocked. “While it’s true that yes, I do have other things to do, taking care of you obviously takes precedence. I’m not doing this because I view it as some sort of job, okay? I probably wouldn’t do this if I didn’t want to…”

He smiles at you weakly. “Is that so?”

You nod. “Duh, of course. You’re important to me, so of course I’d do all of this for you.”

He hums contentedly and flutters his eyes closed. “In that case, thank you.”

“No problem.” You smile at him. He looks so peaceful.

“I mean, not just for taking care of me. I’m also talking about everything up until now, you know. So kind of thank you for being a great friend and sticking around with me. Even though sometimes you can be kind of a bully and make crude jokes that directly attack my manliness.”

You snort. “So much for sentimentality.”

He whines. “No, I’m serious, though! Thank you for always being there for me, and, and, helping me study, and do you remember our weird jokes about hula hoop mating dances and pterodactyl noises? Gosh, I miss those days. Oh, and thank you for teaching me how to play Mario Kart, and then for letting me kick your ass in said game–”

“Excuse you–”

“–and for accompanying me on our crazy 3 AM Pokemon Go night runs, for all those pizookies we shared and sweets you baked for me, and for letting me vent my frustrations about my dumb classmates, and, and–” Taehyung doesn’t get much farther because his voice begins to crack and the tears that have been fighting at the corners of his eyes have begun to free flow down his face. He lets out a choked sob and smears his snot on his covers. You’re slightly disgusted but also deeply moved by his words.

“Tae…”

“I just–I just,” he sobs. “I just wanted to say thank you, and that I really wish I had–had more time with you, and Yoongi, and everyone else. I know I probab-b-bly have a few more days t-t-to live, but I just wanted to get it out, you know? Before it was too late.”

“Tae, you’re not–”

“I know! I know you’re going to tell me that I’m not going to die, but what if? You can never be too sure and so I just wanted to tell you all that anyways!” He sniffles. “And finally, I know this is kind of random, but I really need to say it, and it’s kind of stupid that even near my own death I still am so fucking scared to say it but–”

He takes a deep breath.

“I like you. Like, really, really like you, more than a best friend. I know I always tell you you’re my closest friend, and that’s true, but like–oh god, I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.” He pauses to let out a bitter laugh. His arm is slung over his eyes and so he misses the way your eyes widen and your jaw drops. “You probably think I’m kind of an annoying ass after this entire mess, but I just really needed to tell you, that’s all. Can’t go on to the next world with any regrets, I guess. I hope you find your happiness, I really do. I just wish–I just wish–”

“Taehyung.”

He whimpers and rubs his arm across his tear-swollen eyes. “Yeah?”

“I like you too.” Gently, you push his arm from his face. He looks up at you, teary-eyed and effectively shaken by your confession. You carefully press a soft kiss to his cheeks.

Maybe it’s from the sheer shock of the situation, or his sickness, or maybe both, but whatever the reason, Taehyung suddenly faints, passing out between his sheets. You sigh and kiss his forehead, bidding him an unheard “good night.”

// LAST DAY LEFT

The next morning, you get up early, roll off the sofa, and scare yourself shitless when you see a body directly across from you. Remind yourself it’s Taehyung. Get red-faced remembering last night. Then feel kind of sad, kind of annoyed, because the kid thinks that he’s still going to die. And that today’s his last day.

Thankfully, salvation comes in the form of a phone ringing. Or rather, an app on your phone ringing. An internet call.

“Are you serious?” Jin sounds livid. You wince as his voice reaches a painful volume level.

“Yes, Yoongi and I tried to assure him but he was just being too stubborn.”

On the other end of the phone, Jin lets out a slow, staticky sigh. “I can’t–I can’t believe this. I lose connection for a week and this is what happens!” You can imagine him throwing his hands up in the air in sheer exasperation. “Imagine what your lives would be like if I hadn’t installed that VPN and completely disconnected myself for a month!”

“I’d really rather not, thanks.”

Jin lets out another sigh. “Alright, well, since the kid’s so adamant on my professional opinion, then let me speak to him.”

“Um,” you say, glancing over at Taehyung. He’s still sleeping peacefully on the bed. “He’s not awake, yet. And even then I’m not sure, he may become kind of defensive or maybe he’ll insist that you have to personally inspect him or something.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I’ve got a couple of things up my sleeve.” You raise your eyebrow but decide not to comment. You’re not sure if you want to know.

“Er, okay,” you say. “I guess I’ll um, wake him?” A part of you doesn’t, not wishing to see this whole thing reach its resolution, to finally have to come to terms with last night’s whole rollercoaster of emotions.

“Please.”

“Well?” You say, a hand on your hip. “How did it go?” It’s a question you already know the answer to; it’s written all over him, from his flushed face to the way he awkwardly rubs the back of his head.

“Uh,” Taehyung says. “It was…reassuring.”

“And? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

He looks down at the ground, thoroughly embarrassed. “I’m…an idiot.”

You grin. “Happy we both came to that conclusion.”

But then he turns to look up at you, and smirks. “But I’m still your idiot.” He pauses. “Right?”

You roll your eyes but hold your arms out to him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought this was some elaborate plot orchestrated to get us together by Yoongi and Jin. But yes–you’re my idiot. Now, let’s go out and get some pizookies and pizza, yeah?”

He grins. “Sounds like a deal.”

“You’re paying, by the way.”

“What?”

happy late birthday cat, i hope you celebrated it well and had a lot of fun…! there’s no jungkook in this fic, which is unfortunate, considering your obvious bias towards him…. ;)))

speaking of biases, there is also unfortunately no taeyeon or ailee and i sincerely apologize for that…. i couldn’t think of a way to fit them in D:

i hope you liked this story, i had a lot of fun writing it, heh. <3333

#RAT LIVES ON

(also, i was thinking of a dumb pun by naming this story like “the catdown” instead of the “the countdown” yea hyeah that was bad ok bye)

a/n: yes, i know, the whole shit about the VPN was just me bs’ing. i just needed an excuse, lmfao.

anyways, this fic was inspired by “the last will and testament of uzumaki naruto” by blushinglotus on fanfiction.net

…ahem. i really do need to be getting back to doing my 100 pages of chem. and for once, i’m not exaggerating. i legitimately do have 100 pages to read and take notes on.

….i’m fucked.

#networkbangtan #btswriters #bts scenarios #taehyung scenarios #bts fanfiction #bts scenario #bts #taehyung #taehyung scenario #writing #fluff #comedy #normalverse #countdown #x: trying not to fail life

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cosmosogler · 8 years ago

Text

hi.

last night my brother screamed at his computer until around 1:30 even though i went to bed at 12:45. i finally dozed off around 2.

when my alarm went off at 9 i was so tired from not sleeping and from comicon that i slept in for 45 minutes. my brother was already up and screaming at his computer by 9.

i took a shower... needed to get the glitter from yesterday off. i scrubbed a little bit before bed last night but dumping water on myself for 20 minutes helped more. mom made french toast. i got real sick after trying it.

i mostly bummed around watching youtube videos until 12:30 when i needed to start getting ready for therapy. i got to the facility on time and filled out the daily check in stuff and blah blah blah. i really didn’t want to go, but i wanted to interact with mom and dad less than that. dad already had some judgmental things to say as i was leaving. something about honoring our veterans.

i tried to avoid over-participating in therapy today but got kind of dog piled during my check in. i kept it focused on what i did and not how i felt. i think that kept everyone pretty distracted. the therapist commented that i had done up my nails and looked really good and it was good to see me taking care of myself. i said i only did it for the costume but she didn’t respond or look like she had heard me.

also i feel even worse than usual so i thought maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea to bring that up just to rain on their parade.

that sounds really, really stupid when i write it and look at what i just wrote.

but i didn’t want to be dour just for the sake of riling them up! i did that dumb thing where i would recount something bad that happened and laugh and then apparently immediately stop smiling. the therapist says i do that a lot. she said nobody else is laughing with me and i was thinking “just let me have this.”

sooo... we talked about boundaries today and co-dependence, which are important to talk about. more direct communication. how some people have rigid boundaries and some have porous, and in different situations, and how that can get out of control. i said i felt like i had porous boundaries and then the therapist was all “i see you as more of a rigid-boundaries person” and rated it 70/30. she asked if i had ever been open and honest with anyone which created a great launch pad for a list of people who snubbed me.

i need to be more direct about what i need from therapy. but i really, REALLY don’t want to spend 3 hours complaining about people i don’t like. which seems to be necessary to explain why i don’t like people.

i guess nobody knew that mom used to beat me when i was little because everyone got kind of quiet when i mentioned it when we were talking about physical boundaries. i forgot to mention that i had already called child services when i brought up she maybe hits my brother too... maybe wednesday.

um... i refused to participate when we talked about sexual boundaries.

and i talked about how i don’t really feel anything when i do big favors for people. like when i drove leah to the hospital and stayed there with her all night. she never even thanked me. and... i mean, it’s hard to thank someone in that situation.

well, no it’s not... i didn’t have trouble thanking bradley or hogan when they drove me to and from the hospital back in january.

mm.

and thinking about everything i did for craig for literally nothing makes me too furious to think about anything else so i will try to avoid that road for now. maybe later.

now i’m getting angry about other stuff. i poured my heart and soul into my relationship with jim. i did everything i could to communicate clearly and be open and trust as best i could (maybe not incredible amounts of trust, but, enough to expect him to tell me when things weren’t working out any more). and he DITCHED ME WITHOUT SAYING ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i spent 12 years of my life being friends with that guy. do you know how much growing it took for me to start being able to have actual, like, friendship activities with him? how hard i worked to learn how to be a good friend and treat people better?

i’m not saying he owes me anything. but, like, a “this isn’t working, i’d like to stop talking for a while” would have been nice.

but no.

the therapist says i spend a lot of my time living in the past, and yeah... i have trouble letting go of my anger and frustration. i feel like if i don’t hold on to it and etch it into myself it won’t have been real. if i stop being angry everyone just gets relieved and smooths it over and goes back to their lives. “forgive and forget,” the christian school kids used to sneer at me after, like, spitting on me. that happened.

i can’t forgive or forget because that would be letting the bullies win. and i’m stubborn and hate when bad people get away with everything. that’s probably why i can’t let go of the craig stuff either. because i was a bad person, so i got what i deserved. and i have to remind myself of that every day, because that’s justice.

that and isn’t an aspect of ptsd, like, being stuck reliving the same events over and over even if you don’t want to any more? i mean, i get flashbacks. i don’t know if they’re real memories or not any more... but sometimes they come on and i literally cannot focus on anything that is happening in the present because i can feel what happened. the thoughts just kind of waltz in, ruin my day, and then leave, and then my day is ruined and i’m frustrated because it wasn’t real that time and i’m letting it ruin my day.

and, i feel like, if i don’t let it ruin my life, then that makes what happened ok, because it’s fine now!!! it doesn’t matter what happened, because it’s not happening any more!!! like the crime never happened, because the evidence is eroded out. but it did happen. and until someone who was there fricking acknowledges that it happened it needs to stay right where it is and FESTER until it smells so bad they have to recognize it.

does that make me feel better? no. but justice. i can’t sit back and say “well, karma will get him someday,” because that’s super vague and probably won’t actually happen because good things always happen to bad people. even hitler wasn’t brought to justice. he just killed himself. and his family. he never had to sit and look at what he did.

it feels wrong to move on unless something changes, or the event becomes real.

things i see/hear/whatever aren’t real. i can’t ever be sure if i’m experiencing reality or not. someone else has to tell me they’re seeing the same thing for me to be sure it really happened.

it’s not even that i have hallucinations or anything. it’s just... my sense of reality is so skewed from people being nasty to me that i cannot tell if my memories are real or not. and i know some of them aren’t, because that’s just how brains are wired. some of my earliest childhood memories, even the really sharp ones like the kicking and the beating and the screaming, have details that i’m sure just aren’t true. like what color the walls were. what time of year it was. what the floor was made out of. how big mom actually was compared to me.

just like i can’t remember for sure if there were actually other people in the room or not with the craig stuff.

but if there weren’t other people there, then like half of my anger is totally fake. and that’s awful to think about.

and like... i could always just reaffirm to myself that everything i think is true. but not everything i think is true, that’s the nature of being alive and learning things and changing your understanding, and i can’t deliberately lie to myself. things aren’t ok.

and i feel like people who haven’t experienced that can’t understand how it feels. when someone else spends years ungluing your reality, you can’t really just stick it back on the wall. you can’t put your sense of reality back together without seeing the glue holding it there. and it’s so artificial that it’s just not the same as having real confidence. cracked mirrors still work, of course, but their functionality is irreparably changed. you become aware that you are looking in a mirror, and a damaged one at that. if you look in a regular mirror you just see your reflection. but with the cracked mirror, you see the glass that your reflection is coming from.

i don’t know how to reasonably convey this to my therapist during the span of a single check in... i don’t know how to say what i want to say, or what direction i would like to go in now, so i don’t bring up anything, and then i don’t get help, so i can’t figure out how to say what i want to say. cool.

should i just... print this out and hand it to her? that is alarmingly direct, and also risky, as i have to use dad’s computer to print everything. so the file will be on his computer unless i delete it and then suspiciously clear his printer history and also his recycle bin.

i mean, he’ll probably think it’s porn, but i don’t want him thinking that either!!!

and it could potentially take away from other group members’ time, because this is freakishly long already and i haven’t even gotten to my evening activities. i could give it to her during a break i guess.

after therapy i resolved to, well, resolve some of the communication issues i’m having with my family with the chores and the screaming. so i got a chore chart! and several different-colored markers for my family members to choose from. when i got home i explained it to mom. i think she is already not using it how i had hoped.

i also bought myself a chocolate mint mocha and too late i realized i had not specified that i wanted decaf. so i had the jitters for several hours after that. i tried to keep the explosion confined to asher’s chat window. i appreciate that he also sat through the mood crash afterward.

i saw the steven universe event. i have a soft spot for really mean, really insecure characters sometimes... i really want to talk to someone about it but i am Afraid of The Discourse. i have a lot of thoughts about pearl too but i don’t post them here because i don’t want... well, random people looking at my journal. even though it is public. i’m just not in a very good position right now to participate in huge discussions.

my favorites are of course the ones with the overblown egos. they are SO CONFIDENT. i wish i could believe in myself that much.

i gotta get up around 7:30 tomorrow to go get my hida scan. according to the google i can bring my ipod, thank god.

oh, that reminds me. i spent most of the morning talking to gilbert. we just chatted about whatever came up. harry potter, archie comments, the terrifying archie cartoon i saw when i was a wee babby. it scarred me for life. i was so scared of jughead, i swear to god.

(the humor/script was the real thing to be scared of. i watched an episode today. there ain’t nothing wrong with jughead.)

so i gotta try to sleep now. i’m gonna yell at my brother to shut the hell up when he plays league of legends so i can get some shuteye for once. i, of course, will then not be able to fall asleep anyway, because that’s just how it works.

i guess i should find a way to print that stuff i wrote out. there’s no way i’ll be able to say it in group. and i think i have gotten to some stuff that we might be able to work on instead of “angery” and “i hate everyone,” which are not things i can easily work with.

oh, the therapist’s recommendation for what i should do to get close to people again was “make a new friend.” i started grinding my teeth.

i neglected to download all the cool music i found over the last few weeks... i will have to find something else to listen to during my hours on the scanning table. maybe i can mash a few soundtracks together on the way over to the imaging department. i need to tell dad i don’t actually know how to get to the hospital.

anyway, later. i hope you guys are having a better time than i am. that’s not setting the bar very high though.

oh, one more thing. i neglected to do any therapy homework over the weekend. my reasoning was, “if i am incapable of working hard in a way that will be helpful to me, then why waste my time.” i mean, i don’t have anything else to do, but it is less frustrating to talk about music theory with an acquaintance than it is to “phone in” yet another therapy work sheet. i worded it better when i was talking to asher... it’s too late to go into that now. i need to try to rest. i got individual therapy tomorrow and i need to make the most use of that ~45 minutes that i can.

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