#it was SO bad but like. in hindsight to see the wave of posts saying ‘WHAT??’ is kinda crazy

[aturnoftheearth]

oh my god the denver con. dencon…..

denver con my BELOATHED ! hayley just reminded me that jensen’s comment that dean would be attracted to jack if he were a girl happened earlier that day and it’s like. oh buddy we went into that day with L’s on the brain huh

[partyanimal167]

Hey i saw your post about wanting to do some law fics and i had an idea how about a law x fem or gn reader that is a excellent sworddswomen and can take out someone even with their sheth still on! ( like kagra from fairy tail the anime) but the catch is that when not fight shes super awkward and shy and flustered with him (because he saved her and she attracted to him and his character)Also could the fic being about their first meeting like asking her to join his crew and after time becoming a thing and going to dressrosa together, it could start with law telling the straw hats how they met

(Sorry i know thats a lot but i’ve had this idea for while now and would really appreciate it you can do it but its too much please let me know i dont want pressure you❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️)

Hi!!! Thank you so much for requesting. I'm super nervous to write about Law, but this is a really nice prompt to use. Plus, I'm so stoked that you referenced Kagura! I love Fairy Tail; that was the first fandom I wrote about when I was younger lol. I'm going to try to incorporate everything you wrote. I hope you enjoy it~

She's Just Shy, ok...- Law x F!Reader

CW: Fluff, canon au, nongraphic action, awkward reader (mood)

In hindsight, Law should have realized he wasn't lucky enough to have a normal person on his crew...but she was special to say the least...not that he would say it.

Law was trying his hardest to not break his mug as he watched you going at it with the Strawhat's swordsman. It was his fault though. He had been too deep into his studies and planning, so after continuously rejecting Zoro for a sparring match, it made sense that he would go after you. You were more of a challenge really. Law flexed that strength of his sword at any hint of danger, but you, oh, you weren't bothered by any threats at all. Few could tell the story of seeing your blade at all. A swordman's that used only her sheath, yeah Zoro would be all over that.

"TRA!!!"

Law nearly jumped out his skin when Luffy appeared hanging upside down from a rail. He grumbled into his mug. "What!"

He only laughed. "Y/n is so cool~ I bet Zoro is happy to have a strong person to fight with." he grinned. Law only grunted. "Hmm, maybe she could join my crew. OI! Zoro! Ask Y/n to-," Luffy groaned after being hit upside his head. "Nami! What was that for?"

The navigator rolled her eyes. "You can't go trying to steal people's crew members. What if someone tried to recruit Zoro?"

Luffy understood her point but still whined. "But she's so strong~ Zoro would like it!"

"She's not a pet!" Law argued back.

Luffy laughed. "Ooo, what about a competition! Y/N, would you join my crew if I beat Toroa at a game?"

You skidded across the floor and smiled at the goofy captain. "Sorry Lu-chan, I can't leave my captain yet." she beamed even as she blocked an attack from Zoro without looking. "I owe him too much." she grinned before turning her attention back to her opponent while Sanji threatened to starve Zoro if he so much as got a cut on your skin.

Luffy pouted. "Boo, I want her..."

"Be nice captain." Robin lightly chided. She turned to the doctor. "I am curious though. How did you two meet, Tra-guy?"

Your ears picked up the question. "Cap-captain, no! Don't tell them!" you nervously stammered and waved your hands.

Zoro raised a brow. "Why not? Couldn't be that bad." he grabbed a towel and tossed it to you. You wiped your face, neck, and bosom. He gulped down some water.

Seeing that your attention was back on him, Law relaxed a little. "It's nothing dramatic." he grumbled. "More embarrassing for me really..." he muttered.

"Huh???" everyone asked. For the doctor to admit that and not hold back was certainly something.

Law reclined back and spread his arms out. "I needed some assistance..."

~~~

You were finally able to relax and enjoy the warm weather after spending the morning training. Sitting and meditating was a great way for you to recenter before continuing about your day. You found a nice tree and were wrapping up when a heard some loud commotion nearby.

You opened your eyes to see a group of shady-looking men running away. A few moments later, an anxious looking polar bear was running around searching while tears seemed to be flowing from his eyes. You cocked your head to the side curiously. The polar bear cried out. "Captain is going to kill me!!!"

His uniform seemed to be unique enough from the townspeople, but not quite individualistic. You stood up and stretched. You weren't sure what to do about what you saw and decided to head back to your solitary home in the woods.

You left the busier town and continued walking casually in the woods. You knew this path well seeing as this was your childhood area filled with palm trees and secret waterfalls. You neared the summit of a hill and tensed as you felt an odd, distinct air. You dodged a knife thrown at your head and rested your hand on your sword.

A few of those men from before jumped out of the bushes. "Hehe, seems the rumors were true. What is a woman like you doing with that on your hip?"

"Looks expensive too." another added.

You met their greedy gaze with little interest. So they're robbers. You took a couple steps forward dismissively before they jumped to attack. You quickly reacted and swung your body around to dodge. You shifted on one foot before swinging the other to land in one guy's face. It would have been an easy conflict except more men appeared.

You grumbled before tying up your hair and pulling your sword from your waist.

"You got some moves, missy. But now we really know you don't need that sword. Those work better when they're out of their sheaths." he commented rudely.

You took an offensive stance and dashed to quickly to slice the shocked robbers. It only took a couple slashes or two before each man fell to the ground with serious wounds. You rolled your shoulders before sighing. You just saw them not so long ago, so their stolen goods were probably still on them. You peaked in a couple bushes before pulling out a long sword. It was heavy in your hand. You wondered how hard it would be to find its owner. Oh maybe, that polar bear would know. You continued to admire the blade when you felt the air shift once more. You turned around to see a man bring up a large hammer to swing at you. You tensed to move, but-

"Room."

An odd light feeling surrounded you for a second before you were in the grasp of a stranger. You looked up confusingly as someone could just hold you with one arm then watched as the man froze. "You're- you're-, you're the Surgeon of Death!" the man only tch-ed at the accusation before rotating his hands and muttered. "Shambles."

You watched in shocked as the various men's body parts were dismembered before shuffling around and mixing with each other. Most of them were still knocked out though and wouldn't realize the uncanny circumstance until they woke up.

The man gently placed you down and you clenched onto the sword while bowing. "Oh my gosh, thank you so much! I should have totally seen that coming. How embarrassing!" the words blurted from your mouth.

The man's gold eyes looked at you with uncertainty. "Don't mention it..." he paused before reaching his hand out, "my sword, please."

You looked at his hand then clenched tighter on the sword. "Oh, huh, is this your sword?" you laughed awkwardly. "Oh jeez, heh, sorry here-,"

"Captain!!!" a high-pitched voice echoed up the hill before the polar bear from before appeared with tears still flowing.

You brightened! "Oh bear-chan!"

The bear stopped and looked at you. He immediately took a defensive karate pose in front of the man. "Did you take my captain's sword! You- you-, woman! I'll"

"Bepo," the man interjected annoyed. "This woman just defeated these robbers. Show her a little respect." The other immediately dropped his pose before bowing.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Thank you for recovering, Kikuko!"

You scratched your cheek awkwardly and waved your hand. "Ah no problem at all. He saved my life!" you then turned and finally handed back the sword. "Thank you, again." you bowed. You straightened up. "I'm y/n."

The man seemed to relax more with the sword at his side finally. "Trafalgar Law. I'm sorry if we caused you trouble." he looked at his subordinate. "My sword was taken away while he was on watch."

"I'm sorry, Captain."

"Tch, this is why I don't take naps..." Law muttered. "We'll leave now. I don't want to bother you more."

"Wait!" you called out. "I have to repay you! That guy nearly took off your head."

Law shook his head. "If anything, we're even. I saw how you fought; you would have been fine."

Your face warmed at the compliment. "No, I insist!" Law seemed to see your stubbornness despite the flustered appearance.

"Fine."

....

Law should have known better than to get his hopes up at your seemingly normal appearance. After meeting you a couple times while at your island, you proved to have a formidable reputation that had the Marines constantly trying to recruit you though you continued to reject them. As you two got along, you were amazed by Law and his crew's tales of travels and adventure. You recalled all the commotion that happened when the Worst Generation was at Sabody as well as the Marineford War. You never planned on being a pirate necessarily, but you had your own goals that meant you needed to leave home.

Law didn't know why you were so nervous to speak to him all the time, so he was shocked when you were able to as him to join his crew without a stutter. He wasn't sure what to think. You were strong and smart. And as much as he thought that another mouth to feed would be a bother, he couldn't deny that you would be a good addition. He'd hope that you at least learn to hold a conversation with him without playing with your hands.

~~~

"Law!!! You're so mean!" you wailed as you pushed your chest against the back of his head. He immediately blushed and tried to push you off. "I'm so embarrassed!" you clung onto him.

"Oh my god, I don't know why!" Law argued. You continued to fuss and Law shyly babied you in his arms.

The Strawhats were shocked by the softer scene in front of them. "He's surprisingly soft..." Robin noted.

Luffy groaned. "Oh boo, Tra is so lucky. No way she'll join us now." For some reason, he understood now.

~~~

*sprinkles in some slight jealousy because we like that here.* Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it @dancingnewcat Please let me know how it is. I'm so happy to finally get a request~

Until next time~

[lucky1013]

For Shelby...

Hi. 

No idea if you'll find this, but just in case -

In my June blog post I questioned whether the word abuse is appropriate, and you responded to assure me that it is. OK. You are the only person to fully understand your own experience.  I get that.  Your suffering is accepted and acknowledged.

But I’m not being dismissive. I am sure what you experienced is real and that you have no reason to invent or distort it.   It is dismissive to ignore and minimize someone’s pain. It is not dismissive to evaluate an accusation when determining how you personally intend to treat and regard the accused person.  All abuse and all shitty behavior is not equivalent. All abuse is not the same and should not carry the same weight, in terms of determining punishment. 

You take issue with my assertion that Wilbur could have understood the situation differently.  "Knowledge and intent" are an important concepts in the justice system and I think they matter. If you are certain that there is no possibility that Wilbur’s perception of the conduct is different, OK.  We’re not there, we don’t know, and frankly we don’t need to know. 

Relationships can get seriously fucked up and abusive and unhealthy systems can develop. We all know women who have endured abuse of this kind, or as in your case, have endured it themselves.  I am not dismissing it as invalid.

I'm sure he was a shitty boyfriend swimming in a host of unresolved problems with his head so far up his own ass that he stopped caring about you.

My biggest issue is with the weight of the word abuse when levied in the public sphere. I believe the word has abuse has value in a therapy setting and when you are understanding and framing your own experiences.  I also believe the word abuse has a narrower and stronger meaning when we are talking about putting someone in jail, causing real financial and reputational consequences, labeling someone, costing someone their job. 

The public is calling Wilbur an abuser as if it is a species — as some thing that he IS, not something he has DONE.  Is that what you meant?  Do you think it is fitting? In your view, should Wilbur regarded in the same class as a rapist? A pedophile? A wife beater?  A shocking percentage of this particular fanbase cannot understand the difference.  I state this as a parent of one of them.  Is making Wilbur suffer the end goal? OK, get after it. Make him suffer.  Destroy his peace. But was destroying a fan community necessary?  Could there have been ways to disrupt his peace without disrupting the peace of all these teenagers?  Consequences for Wilbur are really a small piece of the fallout here.  It has spawned a heartbreaking wave of hatred and sadness.  (Have you been surprised by it? I have wondered whether you wish you had handled it differently, now that you have seen the effect of this weird/goofy/unusual fanbase. I'm wondering how you see it in hindsight. Don't even answer that.)

I believe there are not good and bad people.  I believe that all of us are more than the worst thing we have done. I believe YOU.  And yet I still believe in having understanding and compassion for you both.  

I wish you would walk this back. Do you think he should be hated, like a rapist or a pedophile? REALLY? Do you honestly believe he is irredeemable and deserving of public harassment? Do you believe the rest of Lovejoy deserves it? There are ways to say, people, you've blown this out of proportion. There are ways to say, I was right about my experience, but not about the way this went down. Messed up people can climb their way out. There are ways to heal this community. There are ways to lead these kids back to a sane, human, measured response to this. To him.

(I would be happy to share more about myself privately if you want to understand where I am coming from, what my biases are, etc.  Not comfortable sharing publicly.) 

[ankahi-unsaid]

(Long Post) 

Hopefully all of you had a wonderful year 2023 - successful, joyous, and healthy. While we wish each other 'HNY' on January 1st, a few of us while responding to the wishes, also reflect and think of the year gone by and, in the hindsight, pray that they don’t go through the bumpy patches again.

Thirteen days down the line while a cold wave sweeps the city and a grey sky adds to the gloom, I suppose it is time to look back at the year 2023 while tucked in a warm duvet with a cup of hot coffee or a glass of rum in hand. 

But then going back is not easy unless one has maintained a meticulous account, a diary of sorts. It is difficult to recall all events - so before I began writing this I put down a broad selection of month wise events after which it was easier to sum it up.  

The year 2023 was tiring and tough, though equally rewarding. At times trying and testing, at the others back breaking and on a few occasions frustrating to downright unpassable. Yet, the time-hardened bones, the stubbornness not to back down, to take it all upfront - not just face it but challenge it too - sailed me through. I can now say with a grin that both the clock and the time looked back and smiled. That reward was bigger than the financial one. 

Till about the second week of March 2023 things were sailing smooth at work and home. Towards the last week we went to Bhopal to mount the exhibition ‘Hum Sab Sahmat: Resisting a Nation without Citizens’ (‘We All Agree’ - a testament to resisting a nation being shaped without its citizens). That’s where we got the news that two of our friends had been hospitalised. We rushed back only to see both of them pass away in a matter of three days. Comrade Suneet Chopra was first one to leave us and dear dear friend Vivan Sundaram followed on 29 March 2023. It was a huge setback.  

Back at work picking up the threads I was debating the existential crisis that the death of a dear one leaves one with. Though a little hard to push, yet the wheel of life carries on gently patting the past. 

Somehow I have always found that the Financial Year has a​ kind of continuity with the calendar year. As one settles in the comfort zone of a benign April suddenly challenges pounce on you from a hidden corner. Till then I was pretty much enjoying whatever came my way and what I was doing, professionally or on a personal level. I was more than happy with last years' financials and with ​the healthy number of projects in ​our hand. Come May, the first unseasonal rain and a burst of seepage from the second floor terrace of our home brought with it an unending spate of problems at home​ which was also doubling up as part-office. Lo and behold, a civil works contractor and a melee of labour took over our place ​in an army-like operation disrupting everything for the next three months. 

Between the work supervision and rounds to the market I could barely attend to work. On the professional front work suffered, deadlines overshot, clients screamed, and expenses piled. How can one even pretend to be creative and churn out campaigns or designs that satisfy the soul while one is tumbling over sacks of cement and slipping over stone dust, how? Most unhappy with myself and the team I was losing my shirt on everyone around which made matters worse. Fortunately, I got a grip on myself in time and calmed down before things went out of hand. The pressure of office work was increasing so did the delays at home caused by absentee workmen. 

On June 1st bad news came from Dubai. My life-time mentor and guide Zamir Ansari passed away after a massive heart attack. I was devastated. We had a long association of nearly 35 years. He was the most gentle, the kindest and a god-like being who helped anyone with everything he had. While his loss jolted me no end, at a memorial meeting for Mr Ansari something good came up. I shook hands with two people with whom a misunderstanding had cropped up a few years back. In my heart I felt much lighter having cleansed my heart and having made-up with them. There is so much good in the world to see, feel, share, and give. Life trudged.

Home renovation is an unending pain. Once you start fixing seepage, masonry creeps in together with water-proofing; plumbing replacement brings down functional bathrooms which need to be redone from the scratch. Electricals and woodwork soon follow which necessitates paint work and floor polishing, if not entire floor replacement. The whole house was in a mess. It was physically and mentally draining running up and down the three levels at the peak of summers. With the dust and noise all around us Ma fell ill and then all of us followed one after another, flu, sore throats, congestion and the viral fever kept us down. A nagging threat of corona persisted with unmasked labour sauntering around the house for ten hours each day. With tea and snacks to be served twice a day to a team of thirty odd workers, the household help and the kitchen was operating more like a free-canteen about to collapse any day.

In between the saving grace was a decent exhibition design and execution project that came our way. Normally of short duration but hectic, exhibition projects are well paying, we made a packet for a week of sleepless nights. 

While all this was happening I managed to hurt my knee and limped my way through latching on to stair railings and walls. Over weeks it came to a point that I couldn't attend to work or even go for my morning walks. The orthopaedic said that I had a bone abrasion and had torn knee-joint ligaments. A busy work season had begun. With September came the festival rush of north India. Visits to the doctor and the physiotherapist were added to the hectic work schedule. Work pressure continued without ​respite (good it did). 

We hadn't had a break for over seven months. Not even a decent and calm Sunday. Catching a drink in peace seemed luxury. No friends, no party, no outings. Life was dull and boring​ only dealing with masons, plumbers, carpenters, painters, welders, electricians and floor polishers. Finally, ​and somehow​ having pushed everyone out, we managed to get the house ​back in shape and sing with us sometime in October. It was such a relief. 

While we were enjoying our wine and cheese and the music played in the background a hearty duet joined the chorus. My brother and his wife, from pardes, joined us in the freshly redone space. Warmth filled the place. From then onwards it was a party each morning, noon, and night. Evenings were only for drinks which drowned us. World Cup Cricket was here - the fever gripped us too. Succumbing to the loot by the black marketeers we headed to the Private Gallery view of matches in Chennai and Ahmedabad. The on-ground cricket entertainment is a different game. It is heady when you know that the rest of the universe is watching the game 17 seconds after you.

Bad news somehow smells of the relative peace and joy one is enjoying. This time it came from Palestine. Innocent Gazans have had to suffer unending brutalities at the hands of Israeli forces for over three months now.

Clients were kind during the next two months. No one was dying or flying. No one asked for a brochure at the last minute. No press conference wanted a PR push, no Annual Reports were delayed. All in all work sailed smoothly.  There were more holiday breaks and parties than work during this time. Festivals, together with a spate of birthdays, meant celebrations. Fun and frolic carried on with heritage walks, concerts, visits to monuments and museums, excesses of street food topped with heady overdose of drinks. 

Finally, as all good things end, so do parties and celebrations. Work pressure increased together with the knee pain. Brother and bhabhi went back home. Life was coming back to the drudgery of a routine when the happy bells rang.

A new, prestigious, and fairly large exhibition project came our way. This one was to happen in Shahjahanabad - inside the great monument built by Emperor Shah Jahan. I fell in love with the Red Fort all over again as we had the special permission to drive our car straight inside the Fort through the historical Delhi Darwaza with its life-size elephant statues guarding the magnificent edifice and its age-old secrets. Despite the limp and the pain it was a joy to work inside the 17th Century fort. Even in the peace and quiet of Diwan-i-khas I could hear the nautch girls sing and dance. 

The commute from Gurgaon to purani Delhi was a dampener but it also had the bait of 'Delhi 6 ka khaana'. The near 5,000 sq feet of our exhibition space finally turned out as a stunning art gallery overlooking the Mughal grandeur spread around us. Decked with priceless artworks from across the country the hall looked like a haseen dulhan. The design and the display was appreciated and applauded. In our hearts we were more than happy for having done a bloody-good job. 

The successful completion of a project has to be celebrated, so, leaving the foggy and cold Delhi behind, off we went to the balmy and sunny coastal Kerala. The year was coming to an end and we knew that one has to reward oneself for the accompanishment/s and all the hard work. Driving along the south-western coast we rode further down south from historic Kochi to the backwaters of Alleppey to Trivandrum and to the blue-water and white-sand beaches of Kovalam enjoying fish fillets and toddy - all the way through watching Bharatanatyam and Mohiniyattam performances while admiring the pollution free sparkling blue skies. While in Kovalam as I watched the sun set behind the Arabian sea two clients called to say that their "Calendar designs" were delayed. What???? Didn’t you get an auto reply saying I am out of town? Ugghhhh!!!

I wondered, could I complain to the sun why was it setting, could I? A fishing boat crossed the pale orange sphere as it dipped in blue waters. A flock of birds were circling the boat waiting for the catch. A few stars peeped out from the dark northern sky. I poured a drink.

Designers and artists can't complain even when their dreams are broken. 

To sum up, the year 2023 indeed was tough yet it was rewarding in more ways than one. Hoping that 2024 will be kind and joyous for all of us, personally I look forward to more vacations, explorations, more journeys and more laid back weeks over work, work and work. Cheers to all of you. Stay safe and stay in love.

[fuckmeyer]

hoo boyo so i'm the small writing human o/ *waves*

thank you for your response and i just took the time to read through your Jacob black's life matters and how smeyer killed him and i found it super interesting. (also it literally excites me seeing the quotes with the page numbers🤤). -----anyway back on track now. so i've always hd a liking for twilight since i watched the movies when they released (i would have been like 10..?) because i generally like the genre it falls in to. back in feb i watched all the movies again with my mum and she owns all the books so i started to read Twilight and pretty much loved it (i'm easily pleased). it took me like three weeks to get through it which is pretty average for me (attention span..) but then when i picked up New Moon i could barely put it down. i read it in 4 days which is the fastest ive ever read a book by a looong shot. i kind of fell off with reading eclipse... it took me almost 2 whole months to get through which just shows.

i think in hindsight one of the reasons i actually love New Moon (book) more than the rest is that there isnt really a 'set in stone villain' (twilight has james, eclipse has the newborns//victoria, then BD has the volturi. i suppose edward is the only thing that could class as a villan that book but thats not my point i think i enjoyed it more because of the time we get to spend with bella and jacobs characters . . . (quick side note that i watched the movies after finishing the books and new moon has no justice i feel like it washes over the effect jacob had on bringing bella "back to life" so much. so upsetting)

anyhoodles. i think i enjoy Twilight to set up B&E, then New Moon to set up B&J, then as you say in the crit Eclipse just kind of forces you to choose. and it makes sense. after just watching the movies i cant see a way in hell anyone would be team jacob---but having read the books its a whole different story. but then again... smeyer.... yeah.

sorry this has been such a long ask and doesnt really have a question involved, feel free to not post a response as i understand it's long:')

as a last note while i think of it i think that Eclipse for me fell off in that i didnt particularly care about what it was doing. i liked reading about bella and edward in twilight and then bella and jacob in new moon and i just didnt really care for most of eclipse. but maybe thats because i fell in love with bella and jacob from new moon and then had the character sabotaged.. heavy sigh. i think it says a lot that ive had a fan art of bella and jacob walking along the beach as my phone wallpaper since i read new moon so that says it all really.

i apologise once again for the length of this. ---if you wanna see the fan art wallpaper ill find it and reblog it so its at the top of my page.

p(p?)s. i'm glad it's sunny there! it's rained here the last couple days :c

hello tiny writing human! glad to have you back :)

glad you liked the analysis! & the books. New Moon is my favorite too, & i definitely agree with you that part of the appeal is the internal struggle Bella faces. we do get Victoria in the background & the werewolves, but really the whole book is about Bella learning to cope with 1) being a human in a supernatural world 2) her grief of being alone [i.e. without Edward] in this new world. watching her pick up the pieces of her life & build something new & beautiful & imperfect with Jacob was cathartic & relatable - v much a triumph in a series so rooted in the fantastical.

& it's hard to watch Eclipse become this struggle between two boys. because really, it's not about Edward or Jacob. Bella's choice is about whether she wants to give up everything for this cold, "perfect," monstrous, immortal life; or, whether she wants to stick around & build something warm & human & imperfect & finite with Jacob.

by twisting Jacob's character from the symbols of sunshine & values of humanity he represents into a bad-boy supernatural love interest competing with Edward for Bella's affection, it erases some of the characterization that we have come to expect & love in Jacob. because when Meyer positions him as a love interest, he's not embodying the traits as a friend; he's embodying the traits of what Meyer thinks is formidable love interest and rival to Edward: confident, cocky, aggressive, persistent... Jacob becomes nothing more than a 2000s-era (& before) trope of how men in our society "should" act towards women. so, everything we came to knew about Jacob was morphed into this friend/lover hybrid that just didn't work for who he was. he is Jacob...but he is not our Jacob.

(& the movies did him even worse because the "slice of life" B/J scenes we get were mostly cut.)

anyway, thanks for coming back & letting me rant about one of my favorite characters & my fave book :)

[oblivious-aro]

Apologies if this is a bit of a weird ask, but I'm kinda curious about if you've had any experiences with not liking LGBT+ media that was seen as a must watch, and what your thoughts were on them? That reblog sprung me back to thinking the Matrix was boring in middle school despite it being a Trans movie and feeling slightly confused why my friends were surprised by it.

(also that dear lgbt kids blog is really cool, thank you for sharing it!)

Not a weird ask at all, 'tis an honour when the internet people are interested in my thoughts :)

(also yes, I looove dear lgbt kids, that blog is so soothing!)

I wasn't really thinking of anything in particular when I reblogged that post, but if I had to list some specific examples, Steven Universe and Nimona come to mind.

SU's lgbt+ content never sat right with me because of the fact that only character that were lgbt+ were the gems. So in this show, any and all lgbt+ characters are...literaly aliens.

Yeah...

Even outside any lgbt+ themes, the show was a slog to watch. It started off decently enough, but as the it went on, the quality deteriorated heavily. The plot was all over the place, the characters were massacred, and the protagonist is the only child character in all of media who I genuinely hate.

But for some reason, lgbt+ fandom loses their mind over SU. When I read the stuff they say, I honestly wonder if we watched the same show. Like the show's got some decent moments, but it ain't all that. Not even close.

This might be a catty thing to say, but I think it's because it's got a space theme, pastel colours, and some androgynous looking characters. From the way some people talk, a lot of them seem to think that certain aesthetics are more valuable rep than actual lgbt+ content.

I didn't really interact with people online when SU was airing, but my sister was a diehard fan of the show, and we got into a lot of (in hindsight very petty) arguments about it.

I don't judge people who like bad shows (my most used tag is 'Lego ninjago', glass houses), but SU fans always seemed so defensive wave atright up dishonest about the show they claimed to love (this post is long enough, so I won't go into specifics).

It was borderline surreal (and slightly insanity inducing), watching a show that did so little get praised for so much.

Nimona was okay, but very overhyped. Story wise, I think it needed some buffing in a few areas, but it's a fine kids movie that just didn't super grab me.

As for the lgbt+ elements, the two main bits are a gay couple and some gender stuff.

The gay couple are...well they exist I guess. I didn't like how any potentially interesting angles of Goldenloin's character were sacrificed because the writers really wanted him and Boldheart to be fighting the whole movie instead of doing anything actually romantic. The romance isn't interesting, and one of the characters is barely a character. Eh.

Now on to the gender stuff, aka the thing everyone raves about. See, the movie wants Nimona the character to be a metaphor for transgender struggles in society, but instead of making Nimona trans, they made her a shapeshifter.

Why would you not just...make her trans of you want to tell a trans narrative? And you can't blame "homophobic executives" on this one because there's an explicit gay couple right there, and this movie came out on Netflix post 2020. Why do I feel like I'm back in 2016?

And to be clear, it very much is a trans narrative they're trying to push, and not just the story happening to be presented in a way that resonates with trans people. There's some bits (such as the train scene) where the trans narrative directly interferes with what's happened in the story and what we know about the characters, but they're there anyway.

They reeeeeeally want to talk about trans people without talking about trans people for some reason that absolutely boggles my mind.

I just...I don't get it. Just tell the story you say you want to tell. Why are we being so weird and indirect?

That's been my experience with a lot of the lgbt+ media I hear people raving about. I don't know why this seems especially true with specifically lgbt+ people, but a lot of the community has incredibly low standards for lgbt+ themes and representation in media.

A year or two ago, I specifically remember a looking at a list of top transgender characters in children's tv, and literally only ONE character on the list was actually trans.

In summary, I just can't get behind media that acts needlessly secretive yet weirdly proud about specifically its lgbt+ themes and characters, but that's the kind of writing I hear getting the loudest praise and the most glorifying articles.

It felt like I was in the twilight zone.

Finding like 3 people online who were like 'no, you're right, people are being weird about this' was such a relief, and I think knowing there were at least a few people who had the same take as me helped me be able to deal better.

Things are getting better as more mainstream media is incorporating actual explicit lgbt+ representation, but the the crowd that celebrates over scraps of nothing is very much still there.

It didn't bother me nearly as much as it did years ago, but I've learned to take online ravings and reccomendations with a large pinch of salt.

[morganlefaye79]

I just got some very bad flashbacks. Earlier tonight I posted this:

at the time everything was fine but soon after a wave of dread came over me all the dread that I felt as a kid and young adult until I was in my early 30's. Because my life only started like 12 years ago.

Don't get me wrong, I have positive memories from childhood, but they are quickly replaced by so many that are bad that I don't want to think of them, but at the same time, I need them to convince myself that not everything was bad. It is hard to explain and I don't expect anyone to understand.

I was biologically born female, but I never felt entirely like one, all my interests were more likely towards boy stuff. Which was a big issue because at the time, boys and girls were more strictly separated. I was only allowed to play with boys when my brother was with me and he was already a prick when he was young. So I had often to play pretend to have friends at all. Especially since my life was very sealed-off from normal kids. (Kids from non-military personnel).

I was forced to wear dresses and little patent-leather shoes in the same color to my dresses (I still hate pastel pink). I hated it! I climbed trees with them so often until my mom gave up and dressed me in pants. I got all the new Barbie dolls from my mom which I either beheaded, or cut the hair off because I wanted to play with cars and Lego.

I had to wear my hair long, because girls do that, only boys do have short hair. My mom always escorted me to the hairdresser, that I couldn't tell them to cut my hair short, because she knew I would.

And there are so many more examples like this one that makes me hate my life.

When I was 19 I met my first love (I just left home and only left a note for my parents that I was going out) He was a drummer in a rockband. He was the one that showed me how to play the drums actually. I loved him, it took me too long to see that it wasn't the same on his part. He found it just cute how naive I was. Well I hope his balls still hurt from that hit he got.

The second relationship I had lasted 13 years, far too long I would say in hindsight. He was not abusive towards me in a physical way, but very manipulative so it took me 13 years and 3 mental breakdowns after leaving him to get a hang of myself again.

And for what? Just because I tried all those years to run away from my childhood, from those memories. From being called a female and trying to pushing me in that mold although I refused to fit in with all my might.

I'm next month 9 years in into my current relationship, I started to heal myself. Could breathe again and be myself. Only a year ago, I dared to tell friends that I felt like I'm non-binary, only 6 months ago I changed my pronouns on my socials, and only 2 months ago I told my partner because I was afraid to be cast aside. Which I know now was a fear that came from all what I have gone trough and not because my partner is an ignorant prick.

I thought often about a transition, but as of now I'm fine with just being able to be myself. Wearing the clothes I want, which are mostly hoodies and wide shirts. Although I'm more on the androgynous side, I cannot cover up my femaleness entirely because I was cursed with a big chest which no binder can make disappear.

Not long ago, Germany changed their laws towards trans/non binary citizens. I can now change my first name to something either neutral or to the other gender (which would be for me a male name), without any questions, which is actually great. A first step towards more acceptance for those of us that are different. So that we may not feel like that any longer and being allowed to be ourselves.

The punchline for this evening is: It is never too late to get your life back.

If you made it to this point, I'm sorry for the rant, but I feel somewhat better now. It seems I needed this.

[acemapleeh]

God I love your characterizations so much especially of Arthur and Alfred. I saw you write somewhere that they are just too sentimental. We love sentimental in this house tho. Do you have any soft hurt/comfort for them post revolution? U know like where they actually display at least a semblance of real affection for each other? Surely there must have been at least a few such moments?

I appreciate it 💘 Like father like son, they both are borderline hoarders when it comes to items that they have sentimental attachment to.

It wasn't until after the Great War did the begin trying to fix their relationship but it's still a long way off to where they are today. That wouldn't be until after and a bit during World War II did things really begin to patch up properly.

In between the two wars, was interesting to say the least.

Alfred, I'll be real, was obnoxious in the 20's. Between throwing grand, extravagant parties akin more to the ones of Versailles than Victorian grandeur and him going on his European Grand Tour, he was really trying to make a name for himself after the recognition he got for his services in the Great War. He was really trying to be seen as a grown, educated, mature adult. He attempted to write novels, be philosophical, got really into art, and tried finding a greater meaning of love and life. Francis adored him having this phase while Arthur, and even Matthew to an extent, were scoffing in annoyance.

Cut to the next decade and Alfred went a full one-eighty. The Great Depression hit him hard. In all the years Arthur had known his boy, he had never seen Alfred act like this. He was solemn, quiet, hid out west, really, he was acting a little too much like Matthew and that was worrying.

The most concerning rumor he heard was how Alfred would volunteer for stunts in Hollywood films for the risk taking and actually died on film on more than one occasion.

And so, Arthur takes a trip across the pond autumn of 1935. In hindsight, it wasn't his brightest idea. He should have just asked Matthew, but Arthur was having his own troubles at home and maybe actually seeing the other half of his eldest's country wouldn't be so bad a holiday to step away from his own economic problems.

Arthur steps off the boat in New York and realizes he hadn’t stepped a foot here in over a hundred years, and the last time he was here he certainly wasn’t sightseeing. He appreciates the city for a moment, how much its grown in that short span of time. The first smell he gets once he’s away from the docks, away from the tar and spices and sea, is that of roasted chestnuts. He’s staring at the bright red cart, his stomach grumbling and there’s suddenly a white, paper bag in his hand as he’s making his way to Grand Central. It’s a grand building- a real spectacle of architecture with lofty arches and elegant marble. 

He’s nearly late catching his train to Chicago.

His suitcase is as much filled with novels as it was with clothes. 

He chose to bring along ‘Murder on the Orient Express,’ ‘The Waves,’ and ‘Cold Comfort Farm’  to name a few of the things he hopes to pass the time with.

Chicago is a miserably windy and cold city. The accent catches Arthur off guard and he doesn’t spend much time here. He’s got another train to catch: the Santa Fe.

The books being sold in the little shop at the station there catch his eye. He knew Alfred had been boasting about his authors for a while but he had yet to bother really looking into any. He thumbs through several and walks away with enough to last the journey out west and back.

‘The Postman Always Rings Twice,’  ‘As I Lay Dying,’ and ‘Tender is the Night’ are additions to his collection.

He’s reading the paper as he settles in his compartment. It’s all depressing business. There’s a serial killer lose in Detroit, leaving behind headless corpses of vagrants all over the city with not a single lead. Crops are doing poorly as people are forced to leave their farms after the black blizzards across the Great Plains from Canada to south Texas (which explained Matthew sounding poorly over the phone; he planned on seeing him shortly after this visit). Unemployment is at 20.1% which was a slight improvement over the previous year.

The train ride is pleasant, the food is some of the best he’s had in years, and he’s comfortable looking out at the scenery. He never got to see the country past the Appalachians and sure, it’s a lot of flat land and tall grass but it feels like his son. 

His nerves don’t start acting up until he’s actually in California, staring back and forth between the paper where the address had been scrawled and the plaque by the garage door. He knew this was his son’s house. Escaped to the seaside in Santa Monica to cure an ailed heart of woe.

When Alfred answers the door, he’s furious, but Arthur can tell there’s some of his usual spit and fire missing. He’s shoving his way inside, commenting loudly on how crowded everything is for such a big country and how loud the passengers on the train were and how every other person simply had to comment about his accent. Alfred is trying to ask him why he’s even here to begin with while trying to push him back in the direction of the door. Is the old man there to laugh at his misfortune? To gloat how well his country is doing over the mess the United States got themselves into?

Arthur is making mental notes as he walks the downstairs. Not one light is on, all the windows are open, he can only hear the ocean and no hums of electricity. He opens the Freon to find it mostly empty and Alfred nearly slams Arthur’s hand in the door. 

Up close Arthur can see how dry Alfred’s lips are, cracked and a freshly healed cut on the bottom left. He can see that his clothes aren’t fitting him well. They’re lose, suspenders tighter than they used to be. Even his cheeks had thinned; all Arthur could think about how round and soft they had always been even in the War. The shouts and arguments lose their merit when they’re constantly interrupted by fits of horrible, dry coughs.

Arthur is going through the cabinets until he finds glasses and gives the man water from the tap, which, he accepts with only mild protest.

It’s finally quiet and Arthur gives a pseudo apology for dropping by unexpectedly. He swears there’s no malice in his visit, just needed a holiday far, far from home and the mess Europe was in.

‘So mine’s better how?’ 

���It’s not, it’s just further away and Matthew just so happened to mention you were in California. You know that I fancy the seaside.’

‘Go to him next time, sounds like you gave him more notice on you coming to my place than me.’

Matthew doesn’t know Arthur is even in North America.

They sit on the back deck together, sip water because he doesn’t keep tea in the house, and watch as people enjoy the last month of summer however they can on tight budgets. There’s a mother and daughter gathering bottles of saltwater to make salt and Alfred mentions he’s bought several from them and that Arthur should bring some home.

Arthur tries offering to treat Alfred to dinner to make up for the surprise visit but the man declines, saying it’ll just be a waste. He hasn’t been keeping food down well.

Arthur recalls his country’s own periods of starvation. How even though he felt as though his stomach was eating itself, he couldn’t keep food down or at the very least, keep hunger at bay for long.

Even just three years ago, he understood the feeling far too greatly.

Arthur takes this time to teach Alfred, how to make the most of his food, what he can make to mimic feeling full without spending much or eating all that much really, how to grow a variety of vegetables, and how to sew properly. Things that he hadn’t seen as ever teaching him as important as a young boy but were vital tools now. Alfred’s got all the right ideas, he wasn’t exactly being wasteful the past five years after all. He had developed his own methods and Arthur was only adding or improving. They fought and spat but with both of their economies tanked, neither one of them had enough energy for a real fight.

Arthur makes sure the boy has enough to eat, cooks him light meals and gives him tea instead of coffee to keep his caffeinated nerves at bay at least for a while. He’s by no means dotting on Alfred like he’s a young boy but it’s the most he’s been in “parent mode” for some time.

At the end of the week, Alfred had noticed a couple of things in Arthur’s bag that were souvenirs of the places he had stopped on his way out here. Arthur made a quiet remark that his trip wasn’t terrible and had a pleasant time all things considered. Alfred drives him down to Los Angeles, it’s a long way up to Vancouver but Arthur is looking forward to taking the Daylight Limited up the California coast followed a handful of other trains up to Washington state then lastly up into Vancouver by the Canadian on the Great Northern line. 

He still doesn’t like flying and it’s an expensive mess anyway.

The parting at Union Station is a little rough but still, one of the better ones they’ve had in years. A handshake, a pat on the shoulder, a keep your chin up and you’ll be fine. Alfred has lent him a few books to read on his way to Matt’s and actually says thank you for coming but please don’t do something like this again.

Arthur leaves in slightly good spirits and plays tourist in a few cities on his way up the Pacific coast. 

He actually sends Alfred postcards, which, the man has held onto to this very day.

[meanmisscharles]

I didn't want to 'derail' another post that has been making the rounds that asks the question "What's Wrong With Izzy?" so I'm going to let fly with my take on it here.

Izzy, in my Black opinion, suffers from what I and my family call "Cookout Syndrome".

Yes, you read that right. See, "Cookout Syndrome" is when you have a white person who in in deep relationship with a PoC and gotten used to being in spaces with PoC that eventually thinks they can do any ol' thing they want around us.

Let me explain.

Izzy is the 'right hand' of Blackbeard, a MoC. He's trading on Ed's reputation not only as a pirate, but as a MoC and the spaces that allow Ed in.

I see a lot about "Ohhh, girl, if Izzy was racist, how come he was able to do business with that tribe?"

Simple. He uses the pass that comes from Ed, an Indigenous man. His proximity to Ed has given him that ability and again, it's not just because of Ed being 'The Dread Pirate Blackbeard. That tribe didn't seem to have a fuck to give about that.

"Well, girl, he was at Spanish Jackie's and everything! They're probably friends and why would she deal with Izzy, blah blah..."

Spanish Jackie puts respect on Ed's name. Or Blackbeard. They're the same guy, so whatever! Once again, Izzy is using his Cookout Pass to go into the space of a Black woman and it's more than likely based on his relationship to Ed.

He also suffers from Cookout Syndrome with Spanish Jackie, because he ignores her discomfort with the stunt he's trying to pull with the English and brings them to her business. Mans is way too comfortable doing it, too.

We see it again when he's pulling on Fang's beard. I mean, he's got a lot of nerve putting his hands on him in the first place, but what keeps his ass from getting beat over it - Ed. That's Ed's first mate and Ed has given him that power. Izzy decides it means treating his crewmates of color like shit, because he's got Cookout Syndrome and is clutching that pass for all he's worth.

We're shown Frenchie and Oluwande actively rooting for Stede to kill him during the duel - they know what kind of guy they're dealing with. Do they want Stead dead, nah. But they know a Cookout Pass Offender when they see one.

Now, when it comes to how he treats the crew of the Revenge, I want to preface this part by saying that I know what's been said about who he had doing the hard labor being because someone in the cast had a bad back and yadda yadda...

I don't believe that. These showrunners and writers were too meticulous elsewhere for that to 'accidently' be what happened. I think that they did the scene as they wrote it, in hindsight decided it wasn't a good look for what was obviously a fan fave and came up with an excuse. THAT'S MY OPINION. You don't have to share it.

He's gotten to the point that he thinks he can operate in Cookout Territory without Ed. He truly believes that he's managing Ed. He gives Ed a whole speech about it and even expects him to buy his reasons for going to the English. That's why he gets blown off by Ed initially and later knocked on on his ass.

Okay, moving on, he's waving that cookout pass around in everybody's face on the Revenge in Ed's absence and something happens - pay attention here - it doesn't work. Izzy's card was DECLINED in the realest way possible and he did not have another in his wallet.

See, when the issuer of the Cookout Pass is gone, so is the pass. Ed, as far as the crew is concerned, is off to do the King's bidding. So there's no power behind the threats. Not of Blackbeard the pirate, or Ed the Brown Guy. They do what you should do with someone suffering from Cookout Syndrome and get ready to toss his ass overboard.

The final, glaring instant of it is with the whole "Ed better watch his step," business. This is a motherfucker who forgot who got him the pass in the first place. This is a white man that thinks he gets away with dealing with PoC the way he does because of something to do with him. He's saying the n-word as he sings along in the car now, because why the fuck not? Who's gon' check him, boo?

And Ed has to do what many of us who have had someone go off the fucking deep end with their Cookout Pass have had to do. He gives him a reality check. He reminds him of where the real power lies and he does it in a manner that is as obvious as the transgressions.

Ed is showing him You got too comfortable. You got cocky with it. You forgot who the fuck you were talking to. This isn't about whether Ed wanted to do it. That's irrelevant. You have to reign in Cookout Pass Abusers, because they will end up fucking up how you navigate the spaces you need to be able to go into.

AND THAT is why you can't invite everybody to the cookout, y'all.

Anyway, that's part of what I see wrong with Izzy and I think it's interesting! I think that's it's realistic - because as I've said before, some of us have dealt with That Guy who is Like That, for Those Reasons.

This isn't me trying to convince anyone, of course. It's just me adding to what I think is a diversity of takes from a diverse fandom about a diverse show.

[lattechans]

𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: seeing two guys at the same time isn't so bad when there's no strings attached, until it turns out the two are actually best friends. however, as they are both sweet, there is still a smugness to them both that might just be your doom.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: nonidol!changbin x female reader x nonidol! wooyoung (ateez)

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: pet names, oral (f and m receiving), praising/lots of dirty talk and a lot of build up

𝐚/𝐧: better late than never, right? so sorry this took so long to post, my life got in the way of writing and all that but excited to finally hear what you guys think about this duo that's just full of trouble

₁₈₊

“as promised, i’ll be making you my specialty pasta for dinner tonight,” changbin told you whilst guiding you to sit on the couch at his place. you had been seeing changbin for a about a month now and truly enjoyed every aspect of his company – he was incredibly funny and caring and you two always had something to discuss about.

it didn’t hurt that he was an incredibly good lover too, treating you just right. and yet, you were seeing someone else on the side. not because changbin wasn’t enough, he truly was. but you had made it very clear you wanted nothing serious out of the relationship, thus you had agreed on a quite open relationship for now.

“y/n,” changbin snapped you out of your thoughts and sat next to you, hand inching closer to yours. you looked at him with a bright smile, happy that you got to spend time with him again. “this might come as a big surprise to you, so please don’t freak out okay,” changbin explained. your expression switched to one of confusion when he took your hand in his and carefully rubbed circles on your skin. was there something he hadn’t told you? was he secretly married?

“yeah?” you questioned under your breath, trying not to overthink the situation yet. “so i had a chat with one of my best friends and i told him about my dates with you, about how adorable and smart you are and...you know, other things,” his voice nearly silent by the end, however, his expression giving away how the thoughts of your naked figure beneath him truly made him feel.

you let out a laugh, thinking this was all he had to say; reassuring changbin that of course he got to talk about you, even your sex life with his friends. it was completely normal.

“well, the funny part about this is that my friend, wooyoung, found a lot of the things that i described to be very familiar.”

as soon as the name left changbin’s lips, you froze. you had started seeing wooyoung about a week after you had met changbin. wooyoung had grabbed your attention at a bar and to your luck, he had made the first move and asked you out the next day. things hadn’t really escalated between you and wooyoung yet as you were very much still getting to know each other but all you knew was that his kisses left you breathless and now in hindsight, he was very similar to changbin.

“oh, i–”

“so yeah, we made a short investigation into this and what we found out was that the two of you actually do know each other. and with nothing but good intentions, i invited him over tonight so that we could have dinner all together,” changbin explained, fingers still drawing calming circles on the back your hand. however, you couldn’t help but to notice the smirk appearing on his lips when a knock was heard from the door.

with that, changbin rushed to go open the door to his best friend and you were left squirming on the couch, suddenly conscious about how you looked – tugging your dress further down your legs, trying to combat the dull ache between your legs. why was this exciting you?

you heard the friends talk for a bit by the door, casually chatting as if wooyoung wasn’t invited over because of you.

“hey sweetheart, nice to see you again,” wooyoung chatted you up as he walked into the living room, quickly signaling that it’s okay that you were sitting down before you could get up from your seat on the couch. changbin slowly followed behind him like a shadow, but nevertheless, you couldn’t help but to divert your gaze between the two of them. both of them so different but inconceivable attractive, and buff.

“hi wooyoung, glad you’re here,” you greeted him with a smile, trying to hide your somewhat flustered state.

“she’s so flustered already, did you tell her?”

“oh about the thing? no i didn’t yet. you came over sooner than anticipated,” changbin explained to wooyoung, which undoubtedly peaked your curiosity even more. was this going where you thought it would?

changbin took a few strides to be able to sit by your side, hands finding their way to yours again. his touch still warm and comforting but a mischievous glimpse behind his dark eyes. “so, the thing is that we both really like you, so we figured that–”

“that it’d be fun to hang out, the three of us and, just have a good time together,” wooyoung interrupted and inched closer to the couch. you unconsciously licked your lips, the dull ache between your legs now almost pulsating. but you didn’t want to get your hopes up just yet.

“i was getting to that wooyoung,” changbin sighed and glared at wooyoung, who in turn just snickered. you knew wooyoung could be a tease but seeing he was exactly the same even with changbin, turned you on more than he would know.

changbin looked back at you, eyes scanning your features for a reaction, expecting you to not be as excited as you turned out to be.

“there’s no pressure of course. we’re both fine with this thing and–”

you didn’t want to interrupt but you really didn’t want whatever relationship you had with the two of them to be called ‘a thing’ anymore.

“can we not call it that?”

"what?" changbin asked, brows slightly furrowed in confusion. god, he looked attractive was all you could think about before you stuttered a vague answer.

"whatever this is..." you were signaling to the three of you with your hands, trying to get them to understand what you meant without saying the words.

“oh, would you prefer us to call it a threesome then?” wooyoung said without hesitation, and to no one's surprise, with a smirk now plastered on his lips. a devilish one at that.

and as much as that word should’ve shocked you, all it did was confirm that you were all on the same page about what was happening. so, you nodded and uttered a confirmation.

“that’s right sweetie, no strings attached...just pure fun,” changbin murmured and raised your hand to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss on your skin. it felt like his lips left flames after them, feeling incredibly warm in your clothing.

“such a good girl,” changbin whispered against your skin before connecting his lips to yours, his lips taking your breath away. you leaned into the kiss without holding back, your hands tangling in his hair as soon as they could, eliciting a soft giggle from changbin. both of your hearts doing cartwheels.

“let me see that beautiful body of yours,” wooyoung says as he kneels down on the floor in front of you, pushing the hem of your dress up to uncover you. after that, he let his hands keep rising up until he landed on your breasts, roughly massaging them in his hand.

“no bra? fuck,” wooyoung whispered under his breath, admiring the way your body moved in slow, passionate waves as your lips were attached to changbin’s.

"i want to taste you," wooyoung almost pleaded, hands trailing back down from your breasts to your thighs. spreading them open slowly, eliciting a soft gasp from you that interrupted your kiss with changbin.

"want to get on your hands and knees?" changbin asked, although it was more of a rhetorical question – you understood it as an order to be obeyed.

...

after positioning yourself on the couch, wooyoung climbed behind you, rubbing comforting circles on your hips.

“such a good girl, now, spread your legs a little wider for m– oh wow, you are so fucking sexy, baby,” wooyoung was basically drooling behind you. his words turning you on beyond your imagination.

changbin in turn, settled to kneeling in front of you, able to hold eye contact with you and presumably, help with the growing erection visible through his pants.

wooyoung eventually tugged you closer to him, his warm breath so close to where you needed him causing your body to tense up to which he sends you a sweet smile that you only catch a glimpse of before changbin’s cock prods your lips, turning your attention back to him. and with that, wooyoung licked a stripe down from your ass to your clit.

although the suddenness of wooyoung eating you out from behind nearly makes you lose your balance, changbin is quick to help you out.

“you can hold on to me,” he ensures. you nod and slide your hands to rest on changbin’s thighs, gripping on them to stabilize yourself before his cock.

the moans that you are unable to keep at bay sound like music to both of their ears and encourage wooyoung to go harder. he might have started off slowly, but is now ruthless and eats you out as if you were his last meal. his lips latch onto your clit, alternating between sucking and pressing his tongue flat. he groans and smacks excessively, sending vibrations straight to your core and rendering you speechless. wooyoung takes and takes and takes, finally pulling you even closer to him, silently instructing you to ride his face.

you don’t know if your brain received the message, but your body surely did. although your knees were giving out on you and you were at the verge of collapsing, his tongue had you entering all stages of heaven and hell at once and you kept chasing for more.

“babe, look at me.”

you pick up changbin’s command and look up at him. your hips stuttering once you met his eyes, half-lidded and blown with lust. he’s staring at you as if he was about to devour you, burning the very image of you in his mind.

“i think it’s time for us to give that pretty mouth of yours something to do, huh?”

you drew your tongue out as changbin slowly slid his length into your mouth, lewd groans leaving his lips as you took him in as deep as you could. you built up a pace he was pleased with, sucking on him with fervour, moans threatening to spill past your lips even with your mouth full. but you knew changbin liked it messy, so you were not afraid of letting saliva drip down your jaw onto the sofa, trying to slurp it up.

it didn’t take long before changbin was as much of a mewling mess as you were, choking on his spit as you continued to swallow around him, throat wet and tight.

behind you, wooyoung is nearly growling, telling you to be good and suck changbin, and you moan around the cock in your mouth at the filthy words he’s spitting right into you.

“gonna take him down your throat? let him fuck you? will you let him pound into your throat till you can’t even talk?”

you shudder as wooyoung presses his lips on the small of your back, hand coming to contact with your ass as a light spank. you can tell by the tilt in his voice that he’s smiling, and it sends embarrassment surging through you, and arousal. being sandwiched between these two beautiful men while you suck one of them off and the other one whispers filth against your skin, fingers dancing on your ass like a dream come true.

your pace quickens on changbin, your own high not too far away as wooyoung kept his attention on your clit, sucking on you with new hunger.

changbin’s hands tangle themselves in your hair, pulling softly on the strands as he loses himself in the rhythm; wooyoung slightly rocking you forward and making your mouth meet perfectly with changbin’s thrusts.

“fuuck, don’t stop,” he pleads, “i’m so close” and his head falls back, eyes squeezed shut. changbin’s skin is hot to the touch, and you notice the way his abs clench and his hard length throbs in your mouth. his lips are plump and pink from biting down on them to quiet himself, but it’s no use. the way your mouth so enthusiastically swallows around him has him falling face-first towards a climax.

his hips stutter and his thighs shake slightly under your touch, waves of pleasure rocking through his body as he finally releases thick white ropes of cum on your tongue. your mouth, tongue, and hands continue to work him, cum and saliva dripping down the side of his length as you suck him thoroughly, moaning around his tip for good measure. the sensation of it all almost overwhelming him now.

“i think it’s your turn darling,” changbin teased as he held your jaw, his cock falling from your mouth with a quiet pop, a moan leaving your lips directly as wooyoung hit an incredibly sweet spot with his tongue.

wooyoung just moans in response, clutching onto your hips as changbin toys his fingers now on your lips, admiring the way that there was still remnants of him around your lips.

“keep your eyes on me as you cum,” changbin hisses, chewing on his bottom lip as he watches the scene unfold. he swears he could’ve ascended to heaven right there and then as you struggle to maintain eye contact with him; struggle to keep your eyes open as you begin unraveling on wooyoung’s tongue.

your mouth opens for a silent scream, their names leaving your lips as gasps for air. you come back to soft praises, gentle hands wiping at your forehead, patting your shoulders, nimble fingers fixing your hair away from your eyes.

as wooyoung and changbin both look at you, the former rubbing softly at your wrist while the later stares at your teary eyes in quiet wonder, you allow yourself to smile at them.

“that was amazing.”

“glad you had as much fun as we did,” wooyoung murmured, wiping the sides of your mouth with a warm washcloth. you would have usually protested such treatment but you couldn’t lie – the sides of your mouth hurt from changbin’s girth and the soothing rubs on your thighs made the burning between them feel less uncomfortable.

after what felt like forever, changbin gently leaned to give you a tender kiss, letting himself sink down beside you on the couch. your thank yous were slurred, but he just shushed you and placed another kiss on your forehead.

“wooyoung c’mere,” you giggled when you realized that he had simply sat on the armrest of the couch, further away from you two. he took a quick look at changbin, and although you were unsure of what their silent stare meant, you welcomed him for a kiss that still faintly tasted like you nonetheless.

couldn't you just have the both of them?

taglist @es-kay-zee @lizsvcks

[felassan]

Some DA trivia and dev commentary from Twitter

There’s a lot of different tweets, so I’m just pasting and linking to the source rather than screencapping them all or making several different posts or something. Post under cut for length.

User: Was dragon age 2 your favourite in the franchise?

David Gaider: DA2 was the project where my writing team was firing on all cylinders, and they wrote like the wind- because they had to! Second draft? Pfft. Plot reviews? Pfft. I was so proud of what we all accomplished in such a brief time. I didn't think it was possible. [source] DA2 is, however, also where the goal posts kept moving. Things kept getting cut, even while we worked. I had to write that dialogue where Orsino turned even if you sided with him, because his boss battle had been cut and there was no time to fix the plot. A real WTF moment. >:( [source]

Mike Rousseau: I remember bugging that! And then being told it wasn't a bug, and being so confused. Doing QA for DA2 was an experience. Trial by fire. [source]

DG: So I think it's safe to say DA2 is my favorite entry in the DA franchise and also the sort of thing I never want to live through ever again. Mixed feelings galore. [source]

User: (I personally blame whoever it was for ruining most romance arcs in other games for me; they don't live up to Fenris's romance storyline)

DG: I wrote Fenris, so uh - me, I guess? Or maybe his cinematic designer, who put in the puppy dog eyes. [source]

User: If DA2 had just been an expansion, do you think it would have been better received? There was a lot of great stuff in there, and I think my initial dislike of it was because of the zone reuse. If it hadn't needed to be a full game, would that issue not have arisen?

DG: Hard to say. It was either going to be an over-scoped expansion or an under-scoped sequel. If it had stayed an expansion, it might never have received the resources/push it DID get. [source]

User: I'd love to visit the universe where you had an extra year or so to work on it. You did a very good job as it stands, but it definitely had rough edges. Not just the writing team either. The whole game had hit and miss moments, that just a little more dev time could have fixed.

DG: On one hand, DA2 existed to fill a hole in the release schedule. More time was never in the cards. DA2 was originally planned as an expansion! On the other, if we had more time, would we have started doing that thing where we second guess/iterate ourselves into mediocrity? [shrug emoji] [source] 

Jennifer Hepler: This is what I love about DA2. Personally, I greatly prefer something that's rough and raw and sincere to something that's had all the soul polished out of it. Extra time would have helped for art and levels, but it would have lost something too. [source]

DG: Right? I think we could have used some time for peer reviews (and fewer cuts), but I think the rawness of the writing lent a certain spark that we usually polished out. [source]

JH: Definitely. I think the structure (more character-driven) and the tightness of the timeframe let each individual writer's voice really come through. Polish can be very homogenizing. [source]

DG: I should add I'm not, by any means, against iteration. Some iteration is good and necessary. The problem that BioWare often had is that we never knew when to stop. Like a goldfish, we would fill the space given to us by constantly re-iterating on things that were "good enough". [source]

Patrick Weekes: I appreciate your incredibly diplomatic use of the past tense on "had". :D [source]

User: DA2 was my gateway into the series and I’m so happy it is. I love the game the way that it is. It’s one of my favorites of all time. But I am also aware of everything that was said here. If it were remastered, do you think it would change?

DG: I'd be surprised if it was ever remastered. If it was, do you really think they'd change things? Do remasters do that? No idea. [source]

User: Both sides got undercut as I recall. Didn't that whole sequence also end with the mage leader embracing blood magic? It was very much "a plague on both your houses" moment, at least for me.

DG: Yep. Orsino was supposed to have his own version of Meredith's end battle, which only happened if you sided with the templars. That got cut, but the team still wanted to use the model we'd made for him. So... that happened. [source]

DG: I would personally say that DA2 is a fantastic game hidden under a mountain of compromises, cut corners, and tight deadlines. If you can see past all that, you'll see a fantastic game. I don't doubt, however, that it's very difficult for most to do that. [source]

PW: I love DAI with all my selfish "I worked on this" heart, but DA2's follower arcs and relationships are probably my favorite in the series. [source]

User: As I've expressed many times, I love the game, especially it's writing and characters but, for me, the most impressive aspect of it, in consideration of it's lack of time for drafts and revisions, is the 2nd act with Arishok.  What amazingly complex character and fantastic duel

User: Just played it again and I have to agree. Though he is bound by the harsher tenants of the Qun, he makes valid points about free marcher society. Though it is obvious that he and Hawke will come to blows eventually, the tension builds gradually and understandably

DG: Luke did such a fantastic job with the Arishok I found myself sometimes wishing the Qunari plot had just been THE plot. [source]

User: What do you think would have changed, story wise, if you had more time for DA2?

DG: I would have taken out that thing where Meredith gets the idol. It was forced on me because she needed to be "super-powered" with red lyrium for her final battle. Being "crazy", however, robbed her side of the mage/templar argument of any legitimacy. I hated hated hated that. [source]

User: I deeply lament that there wasn't/couldn't be some sort of DA2 equivalent of Throne of Bhaal's Ascension mod.

DG: I'd have done it, if DA2 had allowed for anything but the most rudimentary of modding. ;) [source]

User: I mean, and I think I understand where you were trying, but how much legitimacy did the Templars and her as top Templar have after they're keeping the mages locked up against their will in the old slave quarters? Feel free to not reply.

DG: I think it's the kind of discussion which requires nuance, and which discussions on the Internet are not prone to. [source]

User: Was a compromise that the quest lines don’t branch? It felt like it was supposed to be that way but then you end up in the same place later regardless of what you pick. Like I hoodwinked the templars so good to help the apostates escape but in Act II they were caught anyway.

DG: I remember us having a lot more branching in the initial planning yes. Most of this got trimmed out in the first or second wave of cuts, in an effort to not cut the plots altogether. [source]

DG: "If you could Zack Snyder DA2, what would you change?" Wow. I'm willing to bet Mark or Mike (or anyone else on the team) would give very different answers than me, but it's enough to give a sober man pause, because that was THE Project of Multiple Regrets. [source] I mean, it's the most hypothetical of hypotheticals. It's never gonna happen. I wouldn't be surprised if EA considered DA2 its embarrassing red-headed stepchild. We'd also need to ignore that in many ways DA2 was as good as it was bad BECAUSE of how it was made. But that aside? [source] First, either restore the progressive changes to Kirkwall we'd planned over the passing of in-game years or reduce the time between acts to months instead of years... which, in hindsight, probably should have been done as soon as the progressive stuff was cut. [source] I'm sure you're like "get rid of repeated levels!" ...but I don't care about that. All I wanted was for Kirkwall to feel like a bigger city. Way more crowded. More alive! Fewer blood mages. [source] I'd want to restore the plot where a mage Hawke came THIS close to becoming an abomination. An entire story spent trapped in one's own head while trapped on the edge of possession. Why? Because Hawke is the only mage who apparently never struggles with this. It was a hard cut. [source]

User: I would LOVE to hear more details about this! I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a short story?

DG: I don't even remember the details of the story, sorry. There was a fight, and you caught the bad guy and then realized none of it was real and woke up idk [source]

DG: I'd want to restore all those alternate lines we cut, meaning people forget they'd met you. Or that they knew you were a mage. Or, oh god, that maybe they'd romanced you in DAO. So much carnage. [source] I'd want to restore the Act 3 plots we cut only because they were worked on too late, but which would have made the buildup to the mage/templar clash less sudden. Though I don't remember what they were, now. Some never got beyond being index cards posted on the wall. [grimace emoji] [source] As I mentioned elsewhere, I'd want to restore Orsino's end battle so he wouldn't need to turn on you even if you sided with him. And I'd want an end fight with the templars that didn't require Meredith to have red lyrium and go full Tetsuo. [source] Heck, maybe an end decision where you sided with neither the mages nor the templars. Because it certainly ended up feeling like you could brand both sides as batshit pretty legitimately, no? That was never planned, tho. No idea how to make that feel like an actual path atm. [source] Maybe an option to go "umm, Anders... what are you DOING?" 👀 [source] And, of course, a Varric romance, because Mary took that "slimy car salesman" character we'd planned and did the impossible with him. I can feel Mary glaring at me for even suggesting this, tho. [source] Lastly, the original expanded opening to the game which allowed you to spend time with Bethany and Carver BEFORE the darkspawn attacked. And, um, that's about it off the top of my head. Zack Snyder, WHAT PANDORA'S BOX HAVE YOU OPENED. [source] Shit, I remembered two more things: 1) Restore the "Varric exaggerates the heck out of the story" at the beginning of every Act, until Cassandra calls him on it. Yes, that was a thing. 2) Make DA: Exodus. Yes, I am still bitter. [source] God damn it, I meant "Make DA: Exalted March". The DA2 expansion, NOT Exodus since that was DA2's original name and makes no sense. Because the expansion ended with Varric dying, and that will always be on my "things left undone" list. [source]

User: Whaaaat?

DG: Well, you know that scene in Wrath of Khan where Spock goes into the dilithium chamber because he's a Vulcan? Well, imagine that but with Varric and red lyrium and because he's a dwarf. ;) [source]

John Epler: I distinctly remember referencing the bit from MGS4 where you crawl through the microwave corridor in the split screen, while cinematic battle rages on the other half. [source]

DG: It would have been glorious, John. Glorious. [source]

JE: I don't think I've ever been so certain what a shot should look like as I did Hawke coming in and finding Varric in the broken throne, just like when he was telling Cassandra his story. [source]

DG: It would have come full circle! Auggghh, it still kills me. [source]

User: Lord, you folks are a little too good at this.

JE: The true secret behind videogame narrative is knowing how to make yourself seem a lot more clever than you actually are. [source] 'Oh, we TOTALLY planned that.' [source]

User: Ok, this thread [the DA2 regrets thread, which is the big chunks above] but Inquisition.

DG: My regrets about Inquisition are, more or less, the normal kind. Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid. [source]

User: You can keep your Varric romance, I want a Flemeth romance goddamnit!

DG: I would allow for one flirt option, and then a recording of Kate Mulgrew laughing for three minutes straight. [source]

User: I had a hypothesis about the repetitive caves in DA2. They're repetitive because it's Varric telling the story and he didn't consider them important.  They're like sets in a play.  (Okay, I really suspect it was a time/money/resources thing but I like my fake explanation better.)

DG: Hang a lampshade on it, maybe? Cassandra: "But that's the exact cave you were in last time?" Varric: "Whatever. They all look the same, I'm not THAT kind of dwarf. Can we move on?" [source]

User: that makes sense, hypothetically to make Varric romanceable and keep his arc—that had to happen for the main plot—I imagine you would have to make double the content (or more)? which would've been a tall order given the time/budget constraints the game was under

DG: Right. When it comes to "romance arc" vs. "follower story arc", we generally only had time to do one or the other. Never both. Romancing Varric would have meant not getting the story of his that you did. [source]

Mary Kirby: The one exaggeration I really, REALLY wanted, that we never got to do was Varric narrating his own death scene with Hawke weeping over him, then cutting to Cassandra's pissed off glaring at him. [source]

DG: Haha! The one I wanted was Varric's plot where he takes on the baddies single-handedly, sliding across the floor like Jet Lee, action movie-style, until finally Cassandra gets irritated and he has to admit Hawke & the rest of the party showed up to help. [source]

MK: We did that one! (He didn't do any Jet Lee moves, though.) Jepler gave him letterboxing to get The Good, the Bad, & the Ugly showdown vibes while he shot a ton of mooks single-handed. [source]

DG: Wow. Shows how much I remember. [source]

JE: I found it! I remember seeing this sequence as my treat for doing a bunch of much more challenging work. It was fun to see how far I could push our limited library of animations. [link] [source]

DG: Heh awesome. I could have sworn it was cut, honestly. I think I was even in that meeting. [source]

User: no disrespect but that’s surprising and rich of Mary “Hard in Hightown” Kirby to think DA2 shouldn’t have had a Varric romance when she wrote an entire book of Varric’s self-insert character pining over his Hawke insert character… HIH is the reason we had VHawke Summer 2018

DG: I can't *really* speak for Mary, or how she feels about it now compared to back then. I only know how she felt about it back then, and I'm not sure it was as much the concept of the romance but that Varric's entire story would be bent to "romance arc" ...a very different thing. [source]

JH: I remember pushing to have the first DLC start with Hawke having an option to ask Varric, "Did you tell Cassandra about us?" and if you picked it, Varric would answer, "Of course not, baby. I told her you were sleeping with X..." and then proceed as if you had had a full romance. [source]

DG: I still wonder how that would have gone over. x) [source]

JE: Okay, one more DA2 thing. Putting together the cinematics for this scene was a blast. [link] [source]

MK: These lines are my greatest legacy. I want "Make sure the world knows I died... at Chateau Haine!" inscribed on my tombstone. [source]

JE: I was so glad no one said 'no' to the crane shot. [source]

MK: It needs that crane shot. It's the perfect icing on that cake made from solid cheese. [source]

DG: The designers were all "we need more combat" and I think we were all "I think you underestimate just HOW interesting we can make this dinner party". [source]

JE: And finally. I think @SherylChee wrote the one-liner. I think we had a collection of like, 20. [link] [source]

Sheryl Chee: Yeah! Something like that! I remember submitted a whole bunch and Frank said you only needed one. Wish I'd kept the other fifteen. [source]

JE: A random chooser where, each time through the scene, you get a different one-liner. [source]

JE: DA2 is the project I'm the proudest of. I also absolutely get that it didn't land for a lot of people. But I don't think it's inaccurate to say that, in a lot of ways, DA2 defined my career. [source]  Everyone spent a year working at their maximum ability. I was a fresh cinematic designer and was given all of Varric's content, as well as the Act 1 Finale mission. It was a lot for someone who had been doing the Cinematics thing for literally 6 months. [source]  There's some stuff in there I can't look at without wincing. And there's some stuff I'm genuinely proud of. Not to mention, it was my introduction to most of the writing team. Several of whom I'm still working with today! Albeit in a different capacity [source] Also, weirdly, one of my most enduring memories of Dragon Age 2 is how much Bad Company 2 we'd play at lunch. It was a LOT. [source] Every game I've worked on has a game I played attached to it. ME2 is Borderlands. DA2 is Bad Company 2. DAI is DayZ. I, hmm. There's a progression there. I don't know how I feel about it. [source]

User: Is DA4 going to be tarkov then?

JE: I've kind of churned out of Tarkov for now. Probably Hunt Showdown, at least right now. [source]

User: I think people also don't take nuance into consideration -- like I FULLY acknowledge the flaws in my favorite games and will openly criticize them, but that doesn't mean they're not my favorite games anymore??? You can like and thing and still be critical of it.

JE: A lot of my favourite shit is deeply flawed! I acknowledge it and I think it's interesting to dissect the flaws. [source]

User: I still wish Justice was an actual character in DA2 rather than a plot point.

DG: There was a moment during DAI where we *almost* put in you running into Justice with the Grey Wardens, and he's all "Kirkwall? I never went to Kirkwall" [source]

User: Does that imply that Justice was shoehorned in to DA2?

DG: Nah, it was an in-joke where we thought it'd be fun to suggest that "Justice" was simply some demon that tricked Anders in DA2. Wooo those tricky demons! We didn't do it, though. [source]

User: [about templars]  except, I don't think it had very much legitimacy to begin with. keep in mind, we interact with other characters with the same argument. The one that comes to mind is Cullen, a sane templar in power. The templar's side of the argument is inherently flawed.

DG: I don't doubt that many people agree with you, and yet people can and do argue on behalf of the templars as well. My place isn't to pick a side, but to provide evidence that players can interpret for themselves [source]

User: Can you shed some light for us on how DA was able to do multiple same-sex romance options for different genders but the Mass Effect team treated them like the plague? What process existed for your team that just wasn't their for the other tentpole franchise?

DG: Different people making the decisions, almost different cultures. I don't know what it's like now, but for many years the Mass Effect team and the Dragon Age team were almost like two different studios working within the same building. [source]

User: It truly boggles the mind. Kudos for doing demonstrably better on consistent queer representation than the ME teams. Y'all never needed us to make petitions to try to get the studio's attention and ask them to do better by us. That's the fight we're once again embroiled in now.

DG: Honestly, I don't feel like tut-tutting the Mass Effect team. They did their part, and if they were a bit later to the show than the DA team they certainly did more than almost every other game out there -- and willingly. [source]

Updates begin here

User: So what was the reason for naming Dragon age 2 "Dragon age II" and not using a subtitle?

DG: As I recall, that was purely a publisher decision. I think they wanted to avoid the impression it was an expansion. [source]

User: Is there no chance of ever remaking DA2 under better circumstances? -Somehow remove the repetitiveness of gameplay by making changes and updating the tech and adding much more to the storyline. It could almost be a new very exciting game.

DG: I'd say there's zero chance of that. Let's keep our hopes up for the next DA title instead. [source]

User: I am a little confused here, help me out here please! How exactly was the cut boss battle with Orsino supposed to work out? How it would've kept him from turning against the player?

DG: It means that, if you sided with the templars, the entire boss bottle at the end would have been against Orsino and the mages. No fight against Meredith. The end decision would have been more divergent. [source]

User: I do remember that one of the reasons going around for that, was that resources were going to the transition to Frostbite. I'm still not fully sold on that having been a good choice. I felt that more time should have been given for that transition considering it was made for FPSs

DG: We didn't transition to Frostbite until DAI. Given our time frame for DA2, I don't think we *could* have transitioned to a new engine. [source]

User: Since your talking about the what could have been for DA2. Could you say what your script was for Anthem? Cause I remember reading that you wrote the plot on that game.

DG: I created a setting for Anthem and scripted out a plot - but, as I understand it, almost none of that ended up being used. So it's a bit pointless to talk about what I'd planned, as that'd be for some completely different type of game. [source]

User: [in reference to the exchange above where DG said “Being "crazy", however, robbed her side of the mage/templar argument of any legitimacy. I hated hated hated that.” re: Meredith] except, I don't think it had very much legitimacy to begin with. keep in mind, we interact with other characters with the same argument. The one that comes to mind is Cullen, a sane templar in power. The templar's side of the argument is inherently flawed.

DG: I don't doubt that many people agree with you, and yet people can and do argue on behalf of the templars as well. My place isn't to pick a side, but to provide evidence that players can interpret for themselves. [source]

If I missed a tweet, got the wrong source link or included a tweet twice, feel free to let me know and I’ll correct.

Edit / Update: Post update 22nd April

[inkdrawndreamer]

Fair Game: MoF! Scarecrow x Librarian! Reader 4 (gender-neutral)

I was starting to think this would never get done, good gracious. Sorry my posts have slowed down lately. Work and prepping for school has been hectic. This story should (hopefully) be more interesting than the previous one and mostly comes from my memories of working the kids’ events at my first job. Hope you like!

Jon has barely been here an hour and already things have gone nothing like he hoped. He wasn’t exactly enthusiastic when you asked him to volunteer at an event for the library. He figured he owed you, so he agreed to help you out. He also felt a bit guilty for avoiding you after you found designs for a scarecrow costume in one of his library books. Thank goodness you didn’t ask about them, although he did feel bad in hindsight for letting you think he was angry at you.

To be honest, he’s starting to think he couldn’t be angry at you if he tried. Jonathan Crane doesn’t trust anyone, or so he tells himself, but even he can admit that you haven’t steered him wrong–yet. He feared that you would on several occasions–the many times you found him beaten by bullies, the first time you saw him cry, and even on his birthday when you just wanted to give him a present–but his fears have never been founded. For that reason, he was actually a little excited to volunteer when the day began.

He looked forward to seeing you when the main event started, but by mid-afternoon, you and he had crossed paths maybe twice before being sent to opposite corners of the grounds. Right now he is working at a face painting booth with two unfamiliar librarians. Thankfully, they have not made him interact with the children very much, only asking him to take tickets from parents and fetch new jars of clean water every few minutes. He has only seen you in passing while getting extra water. You are running some sort of ring toss game, but you at least wave to him when he passes through.

You can’t say you’re not disappointed with the arrangement yourself, but it could be worse. There is a steady stream of people coming to your booth, so you don’t get the chance to do much except take tickets. Everybody gets a few when they sign up for the winter reading program, which they can put toward games and raffles. The prizes for your ring toss game are standard fare: extra tickets for a successful throw, rubber balls for three successful tosses, and some large stuffed animals for whoever manages to get a ring onto the furthest pole on the grid. Several people have tried for the top prizes, but nobody has won yet.

The boy throwing rings now has come up twice already in the hopes of winning a stuffed dragon, but he only managed to get a ring on one of the closest poles. This time he manages to land one on three of the nearby rings, but none on the far ones. You give him a rubber ball with a sympathetic smile. As the boy stalks off with a groan, a much older girl steps up to the front of the line. You hand her the three neon rings from the bottom edge of the grid. She gets further than the last kid, but she doesn’t manage to snag any poles on the top row.

When her last ring has landed, she gives you a sheepish little smile. “I don’t suppose I could get a few more?”

“Sorry, if you want to go again, you have to head to the back of the line.”

“Aw.” She pouts. “That’s okay. Maybe my boyfriend will have more luck.” She tosses her long hair to the side as she walks away.

A few more kids come and go with varying luck. You manage to unload a few smaller prizes and tickets, but the top shelf remains perfectly untouched. You call for the next person to come up, and this time, a cluster of teenagers approach. At the front of the group is a teenage boy easily twice your size. You hear a giggle from his side and find the girl from earlier hanging off his arm.

“Aren’t they just adorable?” She points to the stuffed birds hanging from the top of the rack. “Please get me one, Bo?”

The big guy scoffs. “‘Course I can. Hey you, set me up.”

You hand him three rings. His first two attempts completely miss the grid, but the third one makes it onto one of the lower poles. You hold out a book of tickets, but he doesn’t take it.

“Let me try again,” he says. “Bring 'em back.”

“If you want to try again, you have to get back in line.”

“But I’m already here.”

“You have to let everyone else get a turn, those are the rules,” you speak in your softest tone, normally reserved for the unruly toddlers you sometimes find trying to climb the bookshelves.

The other boys chortle beyond him, but a single glare from him shuts them up. He trudges away with the girl in tow as you set the next person up. The next boy lands a ring on the back pole in one go, earning the first top prize to be handed out all day. You pull a stool toward you in order to take it down, but something barrels into your back, almost knocking you into the grass.

“Sorry,” Jon half-whispers as helps you up. He motions behind him quickly. “Don’t draw attention, just cover me.”

“Okay?” You go back to picking the rings up as he walks out from behind you, but he doesn’t get far before a screech of his name stops him dead in his tracks. He tries to nudge in behind you, but it’s too late. You twist around to find the teenage girl from earlier jogging toward you.

“How are you?” I feel like I haven’t seen you since the party!“ She stops just short of knocking into you, essentially trapping you between her and Jon.

He begins to silently back away, only to freeze as a voice booms from a distance, "Did'ja find Ichabod, Sherry?”

You blink. That Sherry? Before you know it, the people in line have scattered. The girl’s boyfriend saunters up to Jon, who is stone-faced despite shrinking back against the wall of the ring toss booth.

“Well what do you know, the Scarecrow is still standing!”  he says almost fondly.

Jon doesn’t say a word.

“I was starting to think you bit the dust for real.”

“Just leave me alone, Bo,” he mutters. He turns his back on them both and begins to pick the rings off the poles.

Bo frowns and snatches them out of his hand.

“Hey!” you shout, but it’s like you’re not even there.

“Come on, it was just a joke.” He hits Jon on the back as the “joke” leaves his mouth. Jon winces, but the guy only moves in closer.

“What’s the matter? Are you feeling shy 'cause you ran off screaming on Halloween?” Sherry’s voice drips with pity.

Bo starts to laugh. “Oh, I bet you pissed yourself when you went in for that kiss! Is that it?”

“Hey!” you shout again.

This time, you get his attention. His voice drops an octave. “What’s your problem?”

You hold up your ID badge. “I work here. You can either stay away from him or leave for the day.”

“Nah, it’s cool, we’re just playin’ around, see?” He rubs Jon’s back like he’s trying to scrub the skin off of it.

“I don’t care.” You cross your arms over your chest, but your eyes don’t stray from his. “You break the rules, you’re banned for the day, simple as that.”

“Come on, we’re just having a little fun.”

“Sure doesn’t look like it. Get out.”

Oh come on!“ Bo says. "This is bullshit.”

“I would be more than happy to call the police.” There’s an almost sing-song quality to your voice. “Then you can explain to your parents why you’re coming home in a squad car. From a library.”

There are snickers from the back of the line. His fist clenches, but it stays at his side. “Come on Sherry,” he says gruffly. She trails behind him as he leaves, both of them glaring in your direction.

You wait until they are out of sight to turn to Jon. “For crying out loud.” you sigh, “Are you okay?”

He looks exhausted, but he nods.

“Is that the Sherry you asked out?”

“Unfortunately.”

“You have my condolences.”

You pick the fallen rings up from the ground and hand them to the next person in line. When they have all gone flying, Jon leans over you to pick their prize off the shelf.

“You know I’m going to have to file an incident report now, so I’ll need your witness statement,” you tell him. “Which booth were you at? I’ll get someone to cover it for a few more minutes.”

“Face painting,” he says. “And, uh, thanks for getting them to leave.”

“Are you kidding? I’m pretty sure we have at least two other reports on file for that guy. I will kick him out anytime you want.”

He chuckles at that. You make a beeline for the face painting table and find two of your coworkers already set up there. You wave to one of them as you walk up to the table.

“Hey Mara, do you think you can watch the ring toss booth for a minute? I have to take care of an incident report.”

“Okay, but can we maybe switch jobs? My hands are freezing from doing this all day.”

“Deal.”

She follows you back to the ring toss area as you usher Jon into the building. The actual report only takes a few minutes, but you take your time walking it over to your boss’s mailbox in order to soak up the building’s heat a bit more. You zip your jacket up the rest of the way before heading back out with Jon in tow.

The line at the face painting booth has picked up a bit by the time you get back. There are several more kids, most of whom don’t sit still for long. You have to redo one little girl’s paint job a few times because she keeps bouncing up and down. The end result is a bit smeared, but she’s happy enough with it to vault out of the chair before she drags her mom to another booth. Right behind her is a woman holding a toddler, who lifts his head just enough to glimpse you before turning away again.

“Do you want to get your face painted?” she asks, but the boy shakes his head frantically.

“It’s gonna hurt,” he sniffles.

“It doesn’t hurt at all,” you say, but he only shakes his head again. “Let me show you. Jon, come here.”

He shoots you a quizzical look as he sits down.

“Pick something.” You point to the designs taped to the table.

“This, I guess?”

You dip your brush into the orange paint and use your other hand to tilt his chin up. His jaw clenches against your fingertips as the brush traces his cheek. He watches your other hand grip his chin with widened pupils.

In just a few strokes, you are done, and Jon has a small leaf on his cheek. “See? Did that hurt at all?”

“No,” Jon says quickly. His face is bright pink beneath the spots of paint.

The little boy looks around shyly. “Can I get a leaf too?”

“Of course.” You pat the arm of the chair as Jon stands up to give him room. You carefully paint a smaller leaf on the boy’s cheek. When he looks in the mirror, he beams, showing a small gap in his teeth. You beam back. “Who’s next?”

There is a steady stream of people coming to your booth, and another hour passes before you get a break in the lines. You’re not much of a painter, so you’re grateful that the design options are so simple. Jon does a good job of cleaning your brushes and restocking supplies as you go. He had the sense to dress more warmly than you did, and now that you are working with your hands so much more, you can’t help being a little jealous of his tattered gloves.

The lines don’t slow down until well after dusk comes. The approaching night pushes out whatever warmth remained from earlier, and even the most energetic children look eager to go inside.Your coworker on the opposite side of your booth reaches the end of her line first, and she announces that she is going on break as soon as the last person leaves. You have four people to get to, so you don’t try to argue as she all but runs toward the building. The wind has picked up considerably, and you have to gently convince the last two kids to put their hoods down so you can actually paint their cheeks.

You fall back in your chair with a sigh the second the last person turns around. You whisk each of the used brushes around in the clean water to your left, grateful to the quick motions for bringing some feeling back into your fingers. Jon is busy trying to hold down the tablecloth while he cleans off the many paint splatters. Another gust of wind pushes past, and he has to clamp both hands down on the cloth to keep it from flipping over onto you.

“Ouch.” Your fingers snap shut against the breeze. The paintbrush you were holding clatters onto the table.

Jon raises an eyebrow as the wind dies down again. “Are you alright?”

“Just cold.” You would rub them together, but uncurling your fingers hurts too much, so you have to settle for hiking up your sleeves. Damn it, I should have worn gloves.

“Maybe you should take a break.”

“I can’t go inside until Lydia comes back. This will have to do.” You rub your sleeves over your knuckles in a vain attempt to create some friction.

Another gust of wind blows past, causing both of you to bristle. Jon shakes it off and leans down toward you. “Here, let me try something.”

He removes his gloves and stuffs them into his pocket. You can clearly make out every bone in his hands, but they are still much warmer than your own. He lifts your hands almost to his mouth and lets out a deep exhale. The temperature isn’t low enough to turn his breath visible, but you can feel it just as well as if it was. Your fingers are so numb that even the bare skin of his hands feels hot enough to burn,despite how careful he is. He rubs the pads of his thumbs over your knuckles in between breathing warm air onto them, returning the heat to you bit by bit.

“I think I’m good now.” You pull away, and find that you can now rub some feeling back into your fingers without pain. Your face, however, is burning.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” your voice jumps an octave against your will. “Uh, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” You don’t know if you feel bad or relieved at the equally embarrassed look on his face. He quickly puts his gloves back on and returns to scrubbing the tablecloth.

You run off as soon as your coworker comes into view again, thanking whatever deity might hear you that the night is almost over. You stretch your break out for as long as possible to soak up the heat of the building, and by the time it ends, you feel almost normal. Barely anyone is left to mill about on the premises. Your boss calls the end of the event just as the sun has dipped all the way beneath the tree line. You find Jon struggling to pack up the table when you return to the booth. Your other coworker has already packed up the painting supplies, leaving just the two of you.

You grab the other end of the table and hoist it onto its side, freeing the legs just enough for Jon to undo the latches and fold them up.

“Thanks,” he says, and this time you can just barely see his breath. 

 He grabs the other end of the table and helps you walk it toward the open back door. The corner hits the doorjamb as you’re pushing it through, and you stumble back into him briefly when you dive to catch it.

“My bad,” you say. You have to hold it in the middle to keep it steady, and your hand lands on his briefly as you shift it into a more stable position. His fingers are locked stiffly around the table beneath your own.

Setting it inside the room is a relief unto itself. Jon starts to walk back out the way you came, but you grab his wrist and lead him through the adjoining room instead.

The light changes from bright to dim as you enter the empty break room, but flipping on the lights reveals a small bounty on the table.

“I told you there would be food.” You flip open one of the pizza boxes and find a few pieces already missing from the pie. You take two for yourself and hand two more to Jon.

“Shouldn’t we be helping?” He watches the door with lingering suspicion.

You flop down in one of the chairs, unbothered. “Most of the stuff is already back in the storeroom. Unless you can squeeze into the elevator with all the supply carts, there’s not much left that we can do.” You squint at him for a moment. “Come to think of it, your lanky ass could probably fit in there.”

“Not a chance,” he deadpans as he takes a bite out of his pizza.

You grab a can of soda and take a swig. “You did a good job handling the kids.”

“All I did was take tickets. You’re the one who had to wrangle them.”

“You let me paint your face for the demonstration,” you point out. “Which has held up pretty well if I do say so.”

He lightly touches the dry paint on his cheek. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your handiwork.”

You finish wolfing down your food before speaking up again. “You know, you don’t have to only visit me at work.”

He looks confused. “What do you mean?”

“We could hang out when I’m not at work sometime.” You shrug. “If you want.”

“Yes!” He suddenly clears his throat. “Uh, yes, that would be…nice.”

“Cool.”

“Uh-huh.” You can make out a vague blush creeping up his neck.

“Also there’s a pepperoni stuck to your sweater.”

He grins. “Shut up.”

[cinnaminsvga]

body of mine | Seokjin (M)

→ summary: It’s the night before Seokjin’s birthday and you, his ever-reliable witch slash roommate, have accidentally forgotten to get him a gift. Good thing you know magic then, right? Ten wishes shouldn’t be too hard to handle…

{or alternatively: learning the importance of living a marie kondo lifestyle, but in hindsight}

→ genre: shifter!au, magic!au, humor/crack, smut → warnings: jin is your magical hamster familiar, jin is chaotic (ofc), magical mischief that only zee could come up with, aphrodisiac sex, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), slightly rough sex, dom!jin if you squint, hair pulling, jin doesn’t wrap up his peepee (pls practice safe sex u guys), dirty talk, breeding kink?? → words: 16.9K → a/n: IDK WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE ORIGINAL POST BUT HERE IT IS!! IM SO SORRY BUT HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY @jincherie​ PLEASE IM GOING TO CRY I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS (pls send me your thots i suffered greatly for this fic i’m actually dying appa yip yip)

Whoever told you that keeping a hamster as a familiar was a good idea must have been an idiot.

It’s you – you are the idiot. Every one of your friends had warned you about the little vermin. They had begged you to kick him out the moment you found him taking a hamster-sized dump on your prized foxgloves.

You’d been in the middle of pruning the yallows in your garden when you heard a tiny squeak! to your right. When you pushed the foliage away, you saw a small hamster, cheeks puffed up with its little fists clenched by its sides, as pellet after pellet of tiny shits were pushed out of its tiny ass and onto your plants.

You brought him into your home, already making up your mind that you’d keep him as a pet. You have been feeling a bit lonely these days; surely, a tiny little hamster won’t be too much of a problem to take care of, right? You’re so excited that you even invite your friends over to behold your newfound darling.

“I’m going to kill that tiny bastard,” Yoongi hissed the moment he made eye contact with the hamster, his pupils dilating and fluffy cat ears tensing, ready to attack. You could see his claws begin to extend, so you made sure to place your new friend out of his reach. Lucky for you, Yoongi had the arm span of a toddler.

“Oh, c’mon! He’s so fucking cute though,” you cooed, tickling the hamster’s belly. It squeaked happily, nudging your finger to scratch the underside of its ears. Yoongi hissed at it from behind Namjoon’s back, his fingernails digging painfully into the gentle giant’s shoulders. The bespectacled witch didn’t even seem to bat an eye.

“Y/N, I’m all for keeping magical pets and whatnot, but I have to agree with Yoongi… That hamster has too much bastardous energy,” Namjoon said, wincing when the hamster begins munching on the sleeves of your cloak in earnest. You continued to squeal in delight, positively endeared by the cute little ball of fur in your palms.

Due to your magical abilities, you had sensed that this little hamster had magic in his veins and you guessed that he must have either been a shifter or an intellectually augmented animal. You guessed that he’s the former, much like how Yoongi is a cat shifter as well. Ever since Namjoon had befriended Yoongi and the two became partners, you admit that you’ve always been a little jealous of their natural camaraderie. You had long since yearned for someone who could assist you in your magical apothecary, but more importantly, someone you could share your time with.

You were optimistic; perhaps when the little hamster learned to shift into its human form, then you could truly begin your journey towards friendship. You’re sure that the man behind the hamster must be just as cute and lovely.

Speaking of learning to shift—

“What? You mean me?” Yoongi asked, craning his head over Namjoon’s shoulder, his curiosity getting the better of him but still remaining a safe distance away from you and the hamster. “What about learning to shift?”

“Did you just learn one day? I want to get Mr. Hamster over here to turn into a human so I can speak to him,” you explained, but the cat shifter narrows his eyes distrustfully.

“I don’t want that vermin to gain the ability to speak. I can just tell no one is going to enjoy what he has to say,” he sniffed. He growled lowly, the sound so deep and feral that you are momentarily disarmed by his hostility. Namjoon had to rub the back of his ears for a second, forcing Yoongi to calm down until his growl softened into a purr.

“Well, Yoongi can’t control his shifting abilities quite yet. I have to… forcibly change him, if you will,” Namjoon explained, watching Yoongi with loving eyes as he gently nuzzled his head into the witch’s hand. He beckoned you closer and you took a tentative step forward, keeping the hamster behind your back just to be safe. “Watch,” he said simply, as his hand trails lower and lower until it reached the back of Yoongi’s neck and he–

Poof! Namjoon simply tickled the back of Yoongi’s neck and a puff of purple smoke revealed a munchkin cat in its wake. His soft gray and white fur bristled in surprise, his teeth bared at Namjoon as he meowed in contempt. Namjoon ignored all of this, gently picking up the tiny cat and cradling him in his arms like a baby. Immediately, the shifter relaxed, eyes closing contentedly as he burrowed deeper into Namjoon’s chest.

“Woah,” you said, for lack of better words. You shook your head, gazing at the two in wonder. “I didn’t know Yoongi has a fucking eject button.”

“Yep. I sure hope you don’t abuse this knowledge, by the way,” Namjoon warned, but the mischievous gleam in his eyes told you that he probably wouldn’t mind if you did. Knowing you, there was no question that you’d take any and every opportunity to annoy the cat shifter. “If this hamster is the same, then surely it has a similar tick. Since it’s small too, I’m sure it’ll be easy to find its spot.”

“Speaking of,” you piped up, staring curiously at him. “How… did you find out where Yoongi’s spot was? Didn’t you meet him as a human?”

Namjoon shrugged, but there’s a soft pink tint coloring the tops of his ears. “Umm… Coincidence?”

You squinted at him. “Sure,” you agreed, not wanting to know why he seemed so embarrassed. You turned back to the furry matter at hand, lips pursing as you gazed upon the hamster. Surely, there should be an easy way to figure this out…

You began to roll the small hamster in your hand like a pancake, twisting and pulling the lil guy until it started squeaking in protest. You made sure not to handle it too roughly, so you were a bit surprised at how dramatically the hamster was screaming. “Just another moment, baby…” you murmured. At the sound of the pet name, the hamster paused in its squirming, staring wide-eyed at you with its tiny mouth ridiculously agape. You arched a brow, amused at the aghast expression on its face.

“Well, that settles it. You’re definitely human, by the looks of it,” you commented, poking it lightly on the nose. The hamster scrunched up its face just as a soft pink smoke started to envelop its tiny body. You coughed harshly, your sinuses tickled by the strong scent of caramel and mint. “W-well, I think I found its spot,” you pointed out helplessly, eyes watering as you tried to keep them open.

The hamster’s body was growing ridiculously hot, forcing you to drop it on your kitchen counter. You hissed, sucking on your burned appendages as you wait for the smoke to subside. Beside you, Namjoon had Yoongi held tightly in his arms, his back turned away to keep the smoke away from their faces. “Y/N, get some clothes quickly. He’s going to be cold when he finishes transforming,” was all he said, his free hand covering his nose. “This is probably going to be its first shift in a while!”

You’re still completely flabbergasted, frozen in place. “What?” you replied dumbly, standing stock still as you waited for the smoke to dissipate. As more and more of it cleared, you noticed two pairs of long legs where there originally had been none. You waved your hand a bit, fanning the remaining fumes away from your nose, allowing you to gaze upon a very naked and very tall man sitting primly on your kitchen counter.

You and the man stared each other down, neither of you blinking nor backing down. After a few moments, the man smiled brightly at you, his cheeks bunching up much like how he did in his hamster form. “Hello, human,” he greeted, extending a hand towards you. You took it dazedly, still staring wide-eyed at him. “My name is Seokjin. I suppose this means I’m going to be your familiar from now on.”

Your gaze traveled downwards, your hands still clasped together with his. “You’re naked,” you said plainly.

He followed your gaze. “I suppose I am,” he mused, shrugging his shoulders. He was incredibly wide; it almost made no sense that he was a hamster just a few seconds ago. What did he do, bench press sunflower seeds all day? “I am also incredibly beautiful, but we can continue stating the obvious another day.” He released your hands, clasping them together with a beatific smile. “C’mon, human! Bring me your finest garments because my handsomely sculpted testicles are starting to shrivel up from the cold.”

Behind you, you could hear Yoongi hissing loudly in response.

And from that day forward, your adventures of living with the biggest nuisance in the world had begun.

x x x x x

[December 3, 11:39 PM]

Okay, maybe calling him a nuisance is a bit too mean… He’s not that bad. Although, you are sure that Seokjin would have gladly nipped you in the tit if he ever found out you thought so lowly of him. Which you don’t.

Usually.

Except when he’s being annoying, which is all the time. For example:

“Stop fucking biting, you little furball,” you grouse, flicking the hamster in the stomach. He gasps in response, or at least, you assume he had gasped since hamsters don’t exactly have the same vocal cords that humans do. What you do know, however, is that Seokjin seems particularly adamant to be irritating tonight, despite your numerous threats to snip his tiny hamster balls should he continue to pester you.

Unfortunately, none of your usual intimidation tactics work, thus prompting you to grab the small rodent and squeeze him like a squeaky toy. (And what do you know—he even squeaks like one too!)

“Will you stop bothering me? You know I’m busy.” You squint angrily at him, scowling when Seokjin looks back at you with faux innocence. This lil bitch wouldn’t know innocence if it shoved a finger up his ass! “You’ve been more annoying than usual. You even tried parkouring over my herb bottles even though I’ve told you numerous times that’s off limits!”

You feel only slightly bad for scolding him; after all, you are in the midst of preparing a particularly difficult potion for one of your clients tomorrow. Seokjin knows this, and you even specifically told him not to bother you until you finished for the night. While he often did like to interrupt your work for “life or death situations” such as “cuddling” or “spoon-feeding him some pudding,” he usually leaves you alone to do your work when you’re faced with tougher jobs. Today doesn’t seem to be the case as he nibbles ferociously on your sleeves, desperate for you to listen to whatever nonsense he wants to convey.

Rolling your eyes (albeit you admit you do it out of fondness), you gently take the little hamster into your hands, placing him on your kitchen floor. You make sure the stove for your potion making is turned off before you turn back to him, honking his button nose and waiting for him to shift completely.

Since it’s no longer his first time shifting, it only takes Seokjin a few seconds to transform into his human self, his large frame quickly taking up most of the space of your cramped kitchenette. He accidentally bumps his head into one of your hanging potted plants, causing him to yelp in surprise rather than actual pain. He glares pointedly at your orchids before switching that ire onto you, his normally saccharine brown eyes filled with thinly veiled contempt.

“Took you long enough,” he sniffs, poking you not-too gently in the cheek. He folds his arms, appearing to you like a child throwing a tantrum. “Well?”

You raise a brow, covertly turning on your stove once more to resume your potion-making. “Well what?” you say, stirring your small cauldron from the corner of your eye. Seokjin halts your movements instantly, pulling your arm away and half-dragging you towards your living room.

“H-hey! That potion is really sensitive, so let me go—”

“It’s almost midnight,” is all he says before dumping you unceremoniously on your old sunken couch. You grunt from the impact, but he doesn’t apologize for his gruffness (as he never has). You peer up at him, scowling slightly at his unexpectedly cryptic remark.

“And so? This potion is due for pick-up in two days and I’ll need to steep it for another 24 hours before I can even think to package it–”

Instead of replying, Seokjin takes his phone out of his pocket and thrusts the screen towards you. You look at it in confusion, confronted with the sight of his lock screen without any explanation. “It’s… 11:43?”

He rolls his eyes, though you notice a slight hint of disappointment clouding his expression. “And what about the date?” he pushes, lips pursed thinly into a line.

He’s trying to get you to understand without saying it outright – a habit of his that he’s acquired ever since he started hanging out more with Yoongi. Though the two are hardly considered friends, even Seokjin has to admit that being near the cat has caused him to pick up a thing or two, with his tsundere tendencies being one of the first.

You, on the other hand, are forced to play along with his antics. You know that it is December 3. As you try to rack your head for anything you might have missed, you’re pretty sure you’ve accomplished all your chores for today, save for the current potion brewing for the customer coming in two days. You think back on your day, listing off all the things you had done.

You had met up with Namjoon to pick up more herbs from his shop, you delivered more mana potions to the local apothecary, you passed by the street market to buy more sunflower seeds for Seokjin… What on earth could you be forgetting?

“I sincerely hope you’re joking, you know.” Seokjin interrupts your train of thought, breaking you from your trance. When you look back at him, you find that his annoyance has cleared. Hurt replaces his expression, his bottom lip trembling slightly as he waits for you to realize.

When it appears that you won’t be noticing anytime soon, he heaves a heavy sigh, eyes closing in defeat. His voice cracks when he says, “Fine. It’s fine. Whatever. I’ll just… Go to my room. Don’t worry about breakfast tomorrow because I’m gonna sleep in.” And with that, he swivels away from you, shoulders hunched forward as he quietly makes his way to his quarters.

Left shocked and even more puzzled, your gaze is stuck where he had just been moments ago, anxiety and guilt rising in your chest as you try harder to remember what it is that caused Seokjin to shut you out like that. In your seven months of living together, not once has he ever looked so dejected, as the handsome shifter often liked to push your buttons and tease you whenever you mess up. This is clearly not like the other times, so whatever you forgot must pertain to Seokjin himself.

“Am I missing something? Did I forget to season his dinner again?” Although it is entirely too plausible that you did, you highly doubt Seokjin would be that upset at having a bland meal. So what else could it…?

Just as you’re about to give up and beg Seokjin to tell you what you had forgotten, your phone beeps, a new text from Namjoon arriving just in time. You flick it on, your brain taking a moment to fully grasp the words you were trying to read.

from: joonieboobie to: y/n

hey y/n! are you gonna spend the entire day with seokjin tomorrow? yoongi and i figured that you’d do something special for him on his bday, so tell seokjin that we’ll treat him to a birthday dinner the next day instead. don’t have too much fun, okay? use protection LMAO

Shit.

You gasp suddenly, hand flying to your mouth as horror washes over you. Did Namjoon just say… bday?! Now that he mentions it, you realize that today is December 3rd, which means…

“Tomorrow is December 4th,” you whisper to yourself. You jump out of the couch, scrambling towards your kitchen at a wicked pace. Sweat begins to form at the back of your neck as you run over to your wall calendar, where lo and behold, tomorrow’s date is circled in blood-red ink. Circled by you, even. Holy shit holy shit holy shit–

No wonder Seokjin was so hurt. You’re a terrible, foul, no-good witch! The absolute worst person in the world! How on earth could you forget your own familiar’s birthday?

“Jesus fuck, I’m screwed,” you groan, slumping over your kitchen counter in defeat. You don’t even care that your potion has long since boiled over—not when you’ve already made a bigger mistake just now. God, you’re such a clumsy bitch; what’s the point of being a potion maker who helps cure other people’s maladies if you can’t even fix your shortcomings?

“I can fix this. I can fix this. I can—” You chant this multiple times to yourself as you rush to your nearby bookshelf, pulling out every book you own to find a last-minute gift idea. Surely, there’s something in these books that can help you make it up to Seokjin, right? You’ve made almost every potion there is under the sun, surely there is something you can brew that can bring back the smile on your lovably goofy familiar?

You’ll pour over all of these books if you have to. Despite your forgetfulness, your love for your familiar rings true; you would do anything for him, whatever he might ask.

A thought passes through your mind, but you shut it down for now. A last resort, you think grimly to yourself. You have a few hours left before he wakes up, after all. You’ll find something, you’re sure.

x x x x x

[December 4, 9:14 AM]

It turns out you do not find anything, after all. A halo of books surrounds you on your living room floor, your worn fingers littered with papercuts and ink stains after spending the whole night looking for a suitable gift for Seokjin. Everything just seems too regular to be a gift, though you suppose you’re only picky because you know that Seokjin is pickier. He’d whine for days if you gave him just any gift, and nothing grinds your gears more than having a sulking hamster eating the plants in your garden.

“Grandeur,” you can imagine him saying, nose upturned in that snooty way of his. “I require the most exquisite of presents. I, after all, am above peasantry. I cannot even stand the taste of wooden chopsticks upon my silver tongue.”

Frankly, you have no idea how he’d gotten to become such a prick so haughty, given that you know that he used to live on the streets before he had met you. Regardless, you’ve always been the type of person to be a little too forgiving, so your patience for his irritating unorthodox personality is stronger than most.

Although it might not be immediately apparent to most observers, the two of you make for a perfect pair. You are the calm to his storm, the logic to his insanity, the yin to his dumbass yang. While it’s easy to say that you hold the short end of the stick when it comes to living with Seokjin, he also grounds you and keeps you from pushing yourself too hard. There have been many long nights in the past when you would be too absorbed in your work, not even remembering to eat or drink for days. All it takes is a soft poke or nibble from Seokjin to jolt you back to your senses as he reminds you time and time again that your life matters not only to you, but him as well.

He’s your familiar. Your sweet, foolish, annoying, narcissistic familiar. It really might have been fate for you to have met all those months ago in your garden, though you’d never tell him that. He’d be much too smug about it if you did, as he never did shy away from proclaiming that he was your knight in shining armor or something.

Which is all the more reason that you fear for your life now that you’ve run out of options for his birthday present. He’d never let you hear the end of it, and you can only imagine how a vengeful and spiteful Seokjin might be compared to his normal self.

You sigh dejectedly, closing your last book and shoving it across your living room floor. “This is my fault for forgetting,” you say, rubbing your temples with a grimace. Of all the times your forgetfulness could fail you, you certainly would have hoped that this would not be one of the times when it did. You must remember to ask Namjoon to restock the ingredients needed to make more head clarity potions, though you suppose you might end up forgetting to do that as well.

Every potion in your arsenal of knowledge just wouldn’t work out for Seokjin, or at least you think so. The potions are either too useless or too useful, with the latter being a bigger problem. As much as you like to tease Seokjin for his hamster-sized brain, he did have his cunning moments. You dread to wonder what type of mischief he might come up with should you give him, say, a 24-hour luck potion.

“Though I suppose he wouldn’t be able to take over the world in 24 hours… Could he?” Even as you say it, you know in your heart of hearts that he absolutely can and will. Fucking bastard that he is.

With no other options viable to you, you did have one last trick up your sleeve. You might even say this option is worse than a 24-hour luck potion, though you will be making sure that he has adult supervision while he, erm, utilizes this gift of yours. This last-minute gift idea of yours is famous amongst your circle of friends, mostly because you do have a penchant for forgetting numerous birthdays and anniversaries in the past.

You’re usually quick to resort to this last-minute gift whenever you forget someone’s birthday, as you trust that your friends would never misuse your kindness in any way. But like most things, Seokjin is a different case entirely. As you have mentioned before, Seokjin… has ways of getting whatever he wants, whenever he wants. Added with the fact that you were unquestionably whipped for his hamster ass, he most often can get you to do things that aren’t what most would consider being “morally sound.” You may love him, but you certainly don’t trust him.

Long story short, you are slightly terrified of giving him ten wishes for his birthday. Ten wishes that will allow him to ask you to do anything for him, as long as they’re within your abilities of course. If anyone were to find out that you were even considering offering wishes to Seokjin, much less ten wishes, you are sure that they would throttle you for the premeditated mass destruction of the human population.

Which is why you’re going to have to make some rules for the little rodent, and hope to all the deities up above that he doesn’t find a loophole of sorts. Hopefully.

It’s nearing 9:30 AM when you manage to muster up enough courage to tiptoe noiselessly into his room, not bothering to knock as you know that he will most likely ignore you. Your heart pangs when you see him curled up into a ball in his bed, still in his human form as you had not been able to transform him back into a hamster before he had stormed off the night before. He has his back turned away from the door, but you know he’s awake when you hear his muffled sniffles. Your previous trepidation is replaced with guilt immediately, causing you to lower your head in shame.

“Seokjin? Sweetie?” You say his name hesitantly, unsurprised when the shifter refuses to look at you. You pad softly towards his bed, your knee digging into the soft mattress but not daring to come closer. You want desperately to cuddle with him in bed, always having appreciated his higher body temperature, especially during the colder months.

“I’m so sorry for forgetting your birthday, Seokjinnie. I know I’m a big fool for forgetting such an important day, but I really hope you can forgive me,” your voice grows softer the more you speak, dropping to a whisper by the end of your sentence. The room is silent, save for the sound of Seokjin’s breathing and your rapidly beating heart. Your mouth feels like sandpaper when you continue, “I know this might not make it up to you entirely, but I do have a gift that I want to share with you.”

At the mention of the word “gift,” you can see the way the small hamster ears perched on his head start to twitch. You smile secretively to yourself, knowing that you finally got his attention. “Come on, sweetie. Don’t you want to know what your present is?”

With a loud sigh, Seokjin rolls over to face you, his cheeks blotchy with tear stains and dried snot. You nearly cry out at the sight, but you keep your guilt to yourself, now more eager than ever to right your wrongs. You hate seeing him cry, most especially when it is you who had made him shed those tears.

“You got me a gift?” His voice is hoarse, but his curiosity is plain as day.

You nod happily, clapping your hands with excitement. “Yup! I know this will be the first time Seokjinnie is celebrating his birthday with me, so I thought long and hard about this—” a complete lie, but he doesn’t have to know that, “—and I thought it would be great if I gave you ten wishes for your birthday!”

There is a pause. In lieu of a response, Seokjin just sits up in bed, pushing off his blankets and blinking rapidly at you in disbelief. He rubs his eyes once, twice, but it still seems like he can’t believe what he’s seeing (and hearing). His mouth opens and closes, before finally saying, “Excuse me?”

You arch a brow, slightly confused as to why Seokjin seemed so astonished. “What? Do you not want ten wishes for your birthday?”

Seokjin shakes his head, looking like a possessed bobblehead with how quickly he moves. “No, of course I do! I just… You trust me enough to make ten wishes? Me?”

You cringe. “Well, trust is a strong word…”

“I knew it!” Seokjin scoffs, pointing at you accusingly. He flops back onto the bed, a deep pout on his face. “My ten wishes are probably gonna be stuff like ‘No cooking duties for a month!’ or something equally as lame.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, yes that could be one of your wishes if you so desired. But no, you can ask for fun stuff too.”

Seokjin raises a finger. “Oh really? Then how about—”

“No wishes that will allow you to attain world domination,” you interrupt, watching amusedly when he immediately deflates.

“Aww,” Seokjin mutters, dropping his finger. A second later, he raises the same finger again. “Then—”

“And no bodily augmentations as well,” you add.

Seokjin looks down at his crotch dejectedly. “Aww!” Seokjin repeats. ”Then what else am I supposed to ask for?!”

You shrug, tapping your chin. “Well, is there anything else in that empty skull of yours that you might want? There should be something you want that you can’t have.”

For a moment, Seokjin’s expression turns cloudy, like he usually does when he’s thinking deeply about something. It might have been the trick of the morning light, but you swear he gives you a quick once over, tongue poking out to wet his chapped lips. “I have an idea,” he says, voice low.

You feel your palms begin to sweat, unused to the dark look on Seokjin’s face. Anticipation fills you as you both stare at each other, neither willing to back down. “Y-yes?” you say, suddenly nervous to hear his response.

He smirks, tilting his head with contemplation. “I want…”

What? What do you want? You squeeze your fists unknowingly, forcibly keeping yourself from squeezing other parts of your body. Could it be..? No…

“Seokjin—”

“I want to beat Jeon Jungkook in a spicy noodle challenge. Just once in my fucking life!” Seokjin hollers, punching his pillow in the midst of his unexpected fury. His eyes are blazing, cheeks puffed up due to his unbridled hamster-y rage. “That little bunny bitch! Thinks he’s hot shit just because he can eat two more cups of spicy ramen more than me? Well, I want him to finally get a taste of his own medicine!”

You feel your shoulders sag in relief, wondering where on earth your brain had been going just a moment ago. “You… You want to get a spice resistance potion? Yeah, I can do that for you. Give me a second,” you say, dashing out of his room like your ass is on fire, afraid that he might notice the blush dusting the tops of your ears. You mentally slap yourself, biting the insides of your cheeks to keep from strangling yourself. Keep it together, Y/N. Remember how much of an idiot he is and you’ll be fine… Just don’t think too hard about it.

Lucky for Seokjin, spice resistance potions are quick enough to make and it only takes you 10 minutes to cork the finished concoction for him. You scurry back to his bedroom, about to hand the small vial over to him when the words get caught in your throat. You’re momentarily paralyzed by the sight of his naked back, his ocean-wide broad shoulders on full display for your wandering eyes to feast on. Naked Seokjin isn’t even a rare occurrence in your household, but it doesn’t get easier to witness even as the days go by. In fact, you guess it only gets harder for you, pun intended.

Thankfully (or unthankfully), Seokjin slips on a clean shirt before turning to you, his expression lighting up when he sees you (with your mouth still fully agape) with the potion in hand. “Nice one, Y/N!” He takes the vial from you, peering at the minty green color with glee. “Oh damn, when I see that little shithead, he’s not gonna know what hit him!”

“Are you gonna go challenge him today?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I’d rather spend my birthday doing other things. Plus, I already have better ideas for the remaining nine wishes I have left.”

“Such as?”

He pats your head a little condescendingly, a devious smirk playing on his lips. “No need to worry your little head, Y/N. You don’t even need to work for four wishes, because I know for a fact that you have these potions in your stock,” he says, laughing maniacally as he scampers off to your basement storage.

“Seokjin!” You call out to him, wondering not for the first time how he always manages to outrun you despite doing nothing all day except eat sunflower seeds and play videogames all day. Though you assume it might have to do with his rodent DNA, as the little shit always did manage to slip from your fingers when you’re strangling holding him in his tiny furry form.

When you get to your cellar, you find him rummaging through your stores and softly humming a tune as he takes his time sorting through your potions. You try to peek over his shoulders to see what he’s doing, but it’s a lost cause as his entire frame somehow manages to block your entire view. Fuck him and his doorframe shoulders.

“Hey, I heard that!” Seokjin says, making you realize belatedly that you did say it out loud—not that you particularly cared if he heard. You’ve thought and said worse, plus he knows it. He thrives on being an asshole.

“Can you at least tell me what you want? I can find them for you too, as long as they aren’t… too dangerous,” you say the last part skeptically, not knowing what is categorized as “dangerous” when it comes to him. For all you know, he could somehow find a way to kill a man with a healing potion.

“No, no. I got it. Here,” he hands you a medium-sized vial filled with a colorless liquid. When you turn the bottle over, you see that you labeled it as one of your hair color changing mood potions, a popular novelty potion that you sold to kids at the market sometimes.

“Why on earth would you want this?” You snort. “Let me guess… You want to feed this to Yoongi so that you can anticipate whenever he’s about to scratch your eyeballs?”

“Close, but not quite! I want you to drink it,” Seokjin says, poking his head out of the cupboard to give you a quick smile. He winks at you, which you do not return. “Come on then. Drink up!”

You squint at him incredulously. When he doesn’t seem to be joking, you exclaim, “Hold on. Why on earth do you want me to drink this?”

But Seokjin has already shoved his head back into the cupboard, the sound of bottles clinking together nearly drowning out his voice as he struggles to find the other potions he’s looking for. “No particular reason! I just never see you with crazy hair colors and I always wondered how you’d look like in pink. I think it’d suit you.”

You flush darkly in response, stammering loudly at his brazenness. “But pink is the color for…” You trail off, embarrassment short-circuiting your brain. No way he could mean… that, could he?!

“Pink is for happiness, right?” Seokjin says after a moment, not noticing your awkward demeanor as he finally exits the cupboard, three other bottles cradled carefully in his arms. He closes the wooden door with his foot, walking out of the cellar with his prizes and not bothering to check if your dumbfounded self is following suit.

It takes a second for you to snap out of your stupor, yelping when he nearly slams the basement door on your face. “No, you idiot! Yellow is for happiness! Oh Merlin, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” you curse, treading closely on his heels.

Seokjin looks at you with confusion, but he thankfully doesn’t ask what specific mood the color pink represents. “Well, I guess you’re gonna have to live with yellow hair all day.”

“And why is that?” you say lamely.

“Because I’ll get to see how happy you are to be with me! After all, I am so incredibly handsome,” Seokjin laughs haughtily. He waits for you to open the door back to the house, his resounding laughter sounding even louder when you both enter, given the acoustics of your home.

“Then I guess my hair will be blue all day instead,” you scoff, pinching him lightly in the side.

“Oh? Because you’re sad that you can’t be as pretty as me? Understandable,” he nods sagely. “Or perhaps you’ll turn green with envy because you can’t be as pretty as me? Or even orange with fear, because you can’t be as pretty as—”

After living with him for so long, you’ve long since developed the ability to mute him out without needing to plug your ears with anything. It’s a necessary skill that you pride yourself in having, as it allows you to live in peace with the insufferable twat. You pity anyone who has ever had to live with him for an extended period of time; dear Merlin, you hope to meet his mother someday, as she must have been incredibly powerful to birth such a beast into existence and raise him willingly, too.

“Hey, are you listening to me? Are you muting me again? ON MY BIRTHDAY? Stop that!” Seokjin whines, poking you in the cheek. You startle slightly, pointing him with an annoyed look.

“Sorry, your highness. Does that count as one of your wishes? Because I honestly don’t think I can handle listening to you ALL DAY. I may be a talented witch, but even I don’t think that’s within my capabilities.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, sticking his tongue out petulantly. “Whatever. Just drink the potion already, will you? Or would you rather I ask for a mind-reading potion instead?”

That shut you up quickly. You shudder at the thought of Seokjin with any sort of telepathic powers. You don’t consider yourself a saint, but you feel as though it’s your duty to keep him away from any sort of power. The world should thank you for your service, honestly.

Without further ado, you pop the cork off the bottle, downing the plasticky tasting potion in one big gulp. “Ugh. I don’t know why kids love this stuff. Tastes like shit.” You grimace, rushing to your kitchen to grab a glass of water.

On your way there, you notice your hair color begins to change from the mirror you keep above the kitchen sink. Your roots are starting to gain a light brown color, the default shade of the potion, but the color quickly drains out as you take your first sip of water. By the time the terrible taste is out of your tongue, your hair has turned completely gray. You finger your tresses, staring at its unnatural steeliness. “Well, at least we know it works. Gray means neutral if I remember correctly.”

“Damn, so this is how you’d look when you turn 50. Would still bang, not gonna lie,” Seokjin whistles, narrowly missing a jab to the stomach from you.

“No one asked for your opinion,” you retort hotly, hoping to the heavens that your hair isn’t changing color again.

Judging from Seokjin’s smirk, your prayers are useless. He cards a hand through your hair, admiring its new color. “Oh, interesting! Purple is for embarrassment, right? Wow, this is gonna be much more fun than I would have imagined!”

“A-anyway,” you slap his hand away, taking a step away from him to keep him from seeing your burning face (though it’s not like you hadn’t already been exposed anyway. Stupid magic potion.) You point to the three remaining bottles he had stolen from your basement, eager to divert the conversation away from the topic of your vulnerable emotions. “What about these? What on earth would you need—” You turn one of the bottles upside down, reading the label. “An illusion potion? Oh Seokjin, I don’t know about this one…”

Seokjin groans. “Oh, come on! The only rules you had were no world domination and no body augmentation, but you never said anything about fake body augmentation!”

“Trust you to find a loophole in any given circumstance,” you sigh, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to stall the incoming migraine (too late for that, given that the personified version of a headache happens to live with you.) “Okay, fine. Tell me what you’re gonna use it for and then I’ll decide.”

“Simple,” Seokjin snaps his fingers. He trails his hands to his ass, squeezing the globes of fat with a sad sigh. “I want people to think I have an ass thicker than Park Jimin’s.”

For some indiscernible, unconnected reason, you feel as though one of the blood vessels in your brain just popped. In any case, having a stroke might be a better fate than continuing to live in the same universe as the withered toenail in front of you. “I beg you to repeat that sentence. Think about your words first, really grasp their true meaning. Try to remember what it’s like to have functioning brain cells. Then try to repeat your words with a straight face.”

“I. Want. People. To. Think. I. Have. An. Ass. Thicker. Than. Park. Jimin’s.” Seokjin repeats, his expression as flat as his ass. “Are you happy now? Will you grant my wish, please? You said no bodily augmentations, so having the illusion that I have thick ass should be perfectly acceptable, is it not?”

“I rue the day you learned to speak the human language.” You sigh irritably, pocketing the offending potion. When Seokjin begins to protest, you silence him with a quick glare. “Don’t worry, you fucking moron. I’m only allowing you to use this potion with my supervision and I simply don’t have the time to watch you bump bubble butts with the local village thot right now,” you explain.

Seokjin nods, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Indeed… I will need your assistance when I walk into town once everyone sees me with my ass shots and tiddies done. The people will simply devour me in an instant.”

“Are you aware that every moment you breathe, you are poisoning the air with your toxic presence?” you say with a deadpan stare. Ignoring his indignant squawks, you take a look at the two remaining bottles. “Alright. Please fucking tell me these are at least slightly sensible choices…”

“If there’s anything I know after living with you, it’s that our definitions of ‘sensible’ vary greatly between us,” Seokjin says, and for once you couldn’t agree more. He takes the last two bottles, turning them over to show you the labels underneath. “They’re luck and truth potions, each with a dose worth one hour. And before you say anything,” Seokjin beats you to the punch, holding a finger up when it looks like you’re about to protest, “These aren’t for me.”

You scrunch your brow in confusion, not quite following his logic. “What? Then what’s the point?”

Seokjin’s grin is mischievous, the twinkle in his eye sending a shiver down your spine. You’re familiar with that look, as it’s the same kind of expression he has whenever he plans to do something incredibly stupid, like eating uncooked noodles before pouring boiling water down his throat in order to eat instant ramen faster. You’ve been at the victim of too many of his ridiculous schemes to not know that whatever he is planning can’t be innocent.

“It’s simple, my dear Y/N. This is all part of my ingenious master plan that I thought of ten minutes ago,” Seokjin explains, tittering haughtily like some poorly designed video game villain. “Hold the applause, because my plan is going to rock your socks off.”

“I’m not even wearing any socks.”

“Then my plan will put socks on you, my dear. That’s how incredible it is,” Seokjin says, undeterred. “So basically, we’re finally going to get Yoongi and Namjoon to fuck.”

Seokjin pauses for dramatic effect, waving his hands around like a magician would, except the only magical act he’s ever performed was to be born as the first-ever living creature without a functioning brain. “Well?” he prompts, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Are you not going to ask me how I’m going to do it?”

Your expression morphs from confusion, to incredulity, to frustration, to acceptance all in five seconds flat. You’ve long since realized that it’s easier not to ask too many questions for the sake of your mental health, though you suppose it might be important to ask a few questions, mostly for the sake of your friends’ safety. You’ve lost enough acquaintances as it is, all because your familiar with rocks for brains wouldn’t know decency if you shoved it up his ass. 

(PS: No, they aren’t dead, but they’ve told you that Seokjin makes them feel like death anyway. That’s just the sort of effect he has on people.)

“Fine, I’ll bite. What’s your ingenious plan to get Yoongi and Namjoon to fuck entail?” you ask, gritting your teeth in preparation to withstand the pure, unadulterated strength of his dumbassery.

“Well firstly, I need the luck potion to win rock, paper, scissors against Yoongi,” Seokjin starts, smirking at the thought. “It’s been my dream to beat him at the game, as the score right now between the two of us is 349 to null in his favor—”

“That’s just because you always play paper. Consistently. You never use scissors or rock,” you deadpan.

Seokjin gasps, holding a finger up to your lips to silence you. “I am above using rocks! I am no barbarian! And do you think I’d ever use scissors? That is just one step away from me throwing up a peace sign like some sort of weeb!” Seokjin retorts, nose upturned in the air. You struggle to keep your fists by your sides, the itch to punch him in his perfectly sculpted nose growing by the second.

“Regardless, I intend to win this time,” Seokjin continues. “And I will make him take the truth potion as my prize for winning so that he may finally confess his feelings for Namjoon and end their five-year-long mutual suffering.��

“Don’t you mean mutual pining?” 

“Same thing,” Seokjin shrugs. “You and I both know that those two idiots will continue to skirt around each other like teenagers who only just realized that their penises can be used in different ways other than for pissing. They’ve been in love with each other for far too long and I intend to be the cupid that brings those two together.”

“Why must you phrase things like that,” you sigh, not really asking with the intent of hearing an answer. You’ve been asking him the same question for months now, and have yet to receive an answer that isn’t “because I can!”

“So does that mean you’ll let me use the luck and truth potions?” Seokjin asks, his lip jutted out in what he probably presumes is a cute manner, but all it does is make him look like his bottom lip got stung by a hornet. (Still kinda cute though, you think to yourself.)

After taking another five seconds to deeply access the state of your life, you sigh tiredly, feeling weary beyond your years. Figures that he would notice the attraction between your two best friends, but still remains oblivious to your own feelings. 

“Fine,” you acquiesce, crossing your arms in an attempt to look annoyed. You aren’t doing a very good job, however, as you try not to smile at Seokjin’s unabashed excitement. Fuck him for being so adorable when he’s happy. Why couldn’t he be excited over more normal things, like R-18 video games or hentai?

You clear your throat, stopping his celebration. “Do you really want to spend your birthday getting Namjoon and Yoongi to get together though? Pardon me for saying this, but I seriously didn’t think you’d want to help them.”

“Why not?”

“You always seemed a little too enthusiastic whenever the two of them were being...” you pause, stuck on the word you want to use.

“Super stupidly horny for each other? Yeah, I admit that I do enjoy watching Namjoon getting a boner whenever Yoongi does that weird cat thing,” he says, shrugging.

“Weird cat thing? You mean when he stretches and his entire torso grows twice as long?”

“Precisely!” Seokjin claps his hands, grinning ear to ear. “It’s super gross and weirdly cute! I don’t know how Namjoon finds that even remotely horny-inducing. Must be a cat person thing.”

You shake your head, unwilling to think deeper about the psychological mechanisms of your friends. “Besides the point. Do you want to head over to Namjoon’s place now? They invited us for dinner tomorrow to celebrate your birthday anyway, so we can always do this next time, or…”

“Hell no,” Seokjin is quick to interject, knowing that you're just trying to weasel your way out of being an accomplice in his ill-planned hijinks. Your shoulders slump in defeat. "You are not getting out of this. We are doing this today before either of us forget! C'mon, it won't take that long."

"That's what I was afraid you'd say," you grumble. "But fine. Just gimme a sec to get ready," you point at Seokjin's ahegao printed pajamas with disgust, "—and you should probably change out your clothes too."

Seokjin looks down at his clothes with a confused expression. "What's wrong with my PJs?"

"I think the more important question is what's wrong with you," you reply, stalking off to your bedroom. You smile secretly to yourself when you hear his squawks of offense.

As you hadn't gotten sleep the night before, you only just notice that you're still wearing yesterday's clothes on your back, the sweat after hours of worrying about what to get Seokjin making your shirt stick grossly to your armpits. You strip off quickly, doing your best to freshen up and look semi-decent (though there isn't much of a need; you've been friends with Namjoon long enough that he's seen you at your worst.)

You pass by your dresser, seeing your reflection in the mirror. Your hair color is shifting from yellow to brown at a rapid pace, making it appear as though you'd been the victim of a terrible dye job.

"I'm a victim, for sure..." you mutter to yourself, fingering your multi-colored locks. The brown color is for annoyance, which shouldn't be much of a surprise to anyone, but the yellow? Happiness isn’t exactly the word you’d describe your emotions right now. And also, do your eyes deceive you? Is there a patch of pink appearing just at the crown of your head?

“No, no… This is no good at all.” You force yourself to think of sad thoughts, trying desperately for the colors to change—but to no avail. Luckily, that hamster bastard doesn't remember what pink means, or else you'd definitely be screwed, and maybe not even in the good way.

You sigh tiredly, slumping over onto your bed when the fatigue from the day finally hits you. “It’s only morning, and I already want to die. Must be a record,” you snort in exasperation, watching as the tips of your hair turn black in response. “Wow, thanks magic. No one would have guessed I was tired unless you said so,” you mutter sarcastically. 

You never thought that you were much of a tsundere, but you're starting to understand the appeal. People knowing your emotions so easily is disconcerting, to say the least. You'd rather die than let Seokjin know that his stupid little antics actually do make you happy, since spending time with him doing pretty much anything is always a good time. It's just... someone has to hold the brain cell in the relationship, and you never would have expected that you'd be the wielder majority of the time.

When you step out back into the living room feeling more refreshed, Seokjin is ready to go. Which is to say, he hasn't moved a single inch from where he was standing just ten minutes ago.

"You bitch! I told you to get dressed," you snap. You pull him by the ear, making the 179 cm adult man whine like a little baby. "Take your clothes off!"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he wheezes, still grimacing from the throbbing pain from where you had tugged his lobe. He tries to wink at you but fails tremendously. He looks like he’s having a funky lil seizure instead. "Just transform me into my animal form and let me ride in your pocket. It's too cold out to walk! You know how sensitive my nipples are! They turn into ping pong balls when it's winter."

"I don't care. Please stop using me as your personal taxi service; you've shat in the pockets of two of my coats already," you grumble, but your pleas remain unheard. He pouts, and your feeble willpower disintegrates immediately at the sight. You sigh, "But since it's your birthday, I won't complain about it this time."

"You literally just complained though?"

You ignore him. You outstretch your finger, ready to boop. "Alright, gimme your nose, wench."

Instead of coming closer as you expected, Seokjin just gives you a contemplative look. Never a good sign. "Actually, that gives me an idea..."

"Oh, dear Merlin. Not another one of those. Please spare me," you groan.

"This one is easy though!" Seokjin tuts, bonking you on the head. You hear something click in the back of your skull, but now is not the time to ponder about such trivialities. He continues, "Instead of my nose being my transformation point... Do you think you could—"

"I am not making your penis your transformation point," you interrupt.

"—make my butt my transformation point? Wait, hold on, nevermind. I think I like your idea better," Seokjin jumps in excitement, but his mirth dies when he sees your unimpressed stare. "Okay, fine. No penis touching. But butts! You touch my butt all the time anyway! It shouldn't be that different."

"Yeah, but I only touch your ass so often because you beg me to punch and massage it in hopes of it becoming bigger. Which, by the way, isn't a real thing. You should do squats instead or something."

Seokjin gasps, scandalized. "Me? Working out? Please, that's as improbable as Yoongi turning into a regular-sized person!"

"I'm telling Yoongi you said that," you roll your eyes. "And to answer your question, no I won't switch your transformation point to your—" Wait, hold the phone. That gives you an idea. A glorious plan, something that might finally teach him a lesson.

No way in hell he would fall for that, though, you think idly to yourself. You’d be too obvious! Unless..?

"What is it?" Seokjin asks, confused when you suddenly stop speaking. He gazes curiously at the way your eyes are glazed over, concerned when he sees the way the corners of your lips twitch slightly. "What's up with you?"

You snap out of your reverie, your mischievous thought quickly cementing itself in your mind. Seokjin may be a chaotic shithead, but so are you. No one can endure living with Kim Seokjin for long without gaining a few shithead genes in the process, and you're no exception. This will teach him to be a little more conscientious, you hope. It's a pipedream, but as they say... Reach for the moon, and if you miss, then at least you'll get swallowed up by a black hole and turn into spaghetti.

"Nothing. Just had a thought, thot." You whistle innocently, barely holding down your grin when Seokjin stares at you suspiciously. Fortunately, your hair color hasn't given you away. To be fair, you didn't know light blue was the color for being a jackass either; you learn something new every day. "Nevermind that. I changed my mind. I'll grant your wish. After all, it is your birthday."

"That's right!" Seokjin exclaims, but there's a note of uncertainty and nervousness in his tone. He squints at you, pursing his lips. "Aha... Of course, it's only right that you give me what I want. It's what you promised, after all."

"Yes, yes... What Seokjin wants, Seokjin gets..." You trail off, your mind preoccupied as you hurriedly go over to your kitchen cupboard. You aren't sure if you kept them or not, so it takes you a few moments of sifting through all the bottles of herbs before you find it in the back, where it has gained a thin layer of dust all over it. You wipe it off, humming in victory when you see that it's exactly what you need.

You take a quick look at the bottom of the bottle, pleased to see that Namjoon had forgotten to label it, like always. But you remember what it is, even though you've never really quite needed to use this particular herb. He had given it to you as a strange novelty item a long time ago: it was an ingredient for obscure potions that were never really ordered at regular magical apothecaries, which is why it had remained untouched in your cupboard until today.

By itself, it has strong magical properties too, or rather... You suppose it would be more accurate to call them side effects. It has an incredibly confounding side effect that some might consider dangerous, which is why it's important to handle this herb with the proper protective equipment. Not that Seokjin would know that, of course.

"Here," you say, handing over the innocuous-looking bottle to Seokjin. He peers at it, turning it over to look for the nonexistent label.

"What is this? Weed?" he murmurs, popping the lid open and taking a tentative sniff. "Doesn't smell like it," he says, raising a brow in confusion. You let out a small giggle, but thankfully, he doesn't notice your slip up.

"Nah, it's called the Baliktad herb. I remember that Namjoon had given it to me ages ago, and it's coincidentally something you can use to... transfer magic from one body part to another." You choose your words carefully, though it's not like you're lying, anyway. Vagueness is the first step in deceit, after all.

"Really? How does it work?" 

"Simple! All you have to do is grind some of the herbs into a powder, mix it with some water to form a paste, then rub it on your nose and your butt. Wait a few seconds and poof!"

Seokjin nods, intrigued. "Wow, I've never heard of this thing before. Are there other uses for this? Say, what if I rubbed some of it on my dick instead—"

"Oh shut the fuck up and give me that," you grab the bottle back, glaring at his impish face. "You know what? I can't trust you to administer it on yourself. Lemme make the paste and I'll rub it on you."

"That sounds hot," Seokjin winks, barely dodging your kick to his nuts. "Hey, hey! Feet off the prize, darling! My balls are where the ladies get their babies."

To stop yourself from screaming, you keep your mouth shut this once. Besides, you're too excited for what you're about to do to him, so keeping silent is a small price to pay. All of it will be worth when you finally give him a taste of his own medicine. Or rather, a smell of his own medicine.

When you finish grinding the herb into a paste, you clear your throat, gesturing for Seokjin to sit on the couch. "Alright, let me put some on your honker first before I get to your ass. And no, you better not make some 'ass is grass' joke."

Seokjin visibly deflates. "Hey, what the fuck? You stole my joke before I even said it! I guess that's soulmate culture for you," he sighs dreamily, before yelping loudly when you shove two gloved fingers up his nostrils. "Hey! What was that for!"

"Oh, sorry," you apologize unapologetically. "I was just worried that if I slathered it on top of your nose, I might accidentally trigger your transformation, so I took the safer route it jammed it up your nostrils instead."

"Whatever happened to a gentlelady's touch..." he whines, scowling petulantly at you. "Wait, if you're gonna jam it up my nostrils, then does that you're also gonna jam it up my—"

Before he can finish his sentence, you push him down onto his stomach, kneeling on his back and literally stealing his breath away. "Aight, rat. I'm shoving your pants down now," you warn gruffly. He makes a winded sound, probably a snarky response that would have made you slap his nuts. Fortunately, your legs were currently crushing his windpipe and leaving him incapable of speaking.

It's funny how you’ve become numb to the sight of his naked ass at this point. Once upon a time, you had blushed constantly at the sight of his sweet cheeks, making for an awkward first two months of living together. Every time you close your eyes, the two globes would be imprinted underneath your lids, haunting you. Nowadays, you'd be more concerned if he wasn't wearing his signature "God Won't Let Me Die" booty shorts.

Also, despite what he says, he isn't completely assless. He has a substantial amount of cake, certainly nothing to scoff at. You grumble and moan about "having" to massage his ass, but honestly? Who wouldn't want to grab his ass? You might be stupid, but you aren't an idiot.

“The salve is going to be cold, by the way,” you warn, though it’s useless to say at this point since he already experienced it when you shoved up his nose just two minutes ago. Whatever. 

Unlike then, you are much gentler applying the salve on his butt this time, mostly out of fear that 1) you'd accidentally penetrate his asshole with your finger like that one time (don't ask), or 2) you'd massage his butt like you know he wants you to.

“Harder, mommy,” he fake moans, wiggling his ass. You almost slap him on instinct, but think better of it.

"I hate that you're such a... debauched cretin," you say, tenderly rubbing his ass with a scowl. If any bystander were to see you, they'd might have thought you were his kind girlfriend rubbing medicine on a bruise or massaging your poor fatigued boyfriend. One might have even thought you were rubbing him a little bit too sensually, but little do people know... You were playing a stupid little prank on your dumbass familiar that may or may not cause him to beat you up (not that it would be much of a punishment to you, anyway. They don’t write romances like these anymore, huh?)

He taps you on the thigh, and you guess that he’s probably having difficulty breathing from your weight on his back. Feeling kinda bad for him, you shift your legs over, choosing to straddle him instead. However, the regret from your decision comes instantaneously the moment he regains his breath.

"You love me, though. You think I'm funny," Seokjin replies, albeit his voice is still a little strained under your weight.  "You think I'm cute, too."

Yeah, you do. "I think your hamster form is cute. Get that shit out of your head," you scoff, but your heated cheeks betray you.

“I can’t see you right now, but I bet your hair is an insane shade of purple, isn’t it?” he teases, wiggling like a worm to express his glee.

“Fuck you,” you grouse. You slap his thigh twice in retribution: the first one for teasing you, and the second one for pretending to moan after you had slapped him the first time.

He was only half-right about your hair, anyway. You catch a glimpse of your pastel purple and pink hair from the corner of your eye, alarmingly visible for all to see. Honestly, it doesn’t take a lot of brainpower to figure out what pink actually means, most especially since you have never been subtle with your affections for him. After all, not everyone has the patience to keep up with his antics. The fact that you haven’t squashed him into a tiny hamster pancake is proof enough that you really do love him.

I mean, who else would give Kim Seokjin ten wishes on his birthday? That's giving him way too much power that no one should be comfortable with. Just goes to show that maybe like attracts like, sometimes. You must be a little crazy too, you suppose.

He’s never caught on to your feelings, however, as he probably thinks you’re more like an annoying younger sister or something. After all, you bicker with him more than anything else, but that’s just how it is on this bitch of an earth.

Luckily or unluckily for you, Seokjin doesn’t comment on your hair color when he sits up after you finish rubbing the herbs onto his gooch. He’s much too busy wrinkling his nose in confusion, his forehead scrunching as the herbs are presumably starting to take effect.

“How am I supposed to know when the herbs work?” he asks, scratching his nose. The salve has dried out considerably, turning more into flecks that fall off when he disturbs it. So now, it looks like he has disgusting leathery boogers hanging out from his nostrils. Somehow, he makes it work anyway.

“Oh, you’ll know,” you respond vaguely, smiling when you can tell that Seokjin’s suspicions are beginning to grow. “Want me to test it out?”

Seokjin nods, leaning closer and presenting you with his nose. You tap him gently on the tip (lol), both of you waiting for the scent of caramel and mint to signal his shift. When nothing comes, Seokjin gasps in elation, clapping his hands gleefully as he bounces up and down in his seat.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe that worked! I was so sure you were gonna prank me… I overestimated you,” he says haughtily, pointing his stupid nose up in the air. He guffaws, standing up and wagging his ass at you smugly. “C’mon, then! Slap my ass and let’s see if it really works!”

You don’t move immediately, disappointed when the actual effect of the herb doesn’t seem to be working. You pout, observing him skeptically. “Wait, hold on. Are you sure you don’t feel weird?”

His victory hoots come to an abrupt halt. “No? Why would I be?”

“Don’t you… smell anything odd?”

Seokjin looks at you weirdly. “No? Unless you count not smelling my transformation scent, then—wait, just a second.” He freezes up, sniffing the air with a disgusted expression on his face. “Shit, you’re right! There’s something super funky in the air. You didn’t fuck up my sense of smell or something, did you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping your p. Your smirk grows, breathy giggles escaping you. “Say, can you describe what you’re smelling?”

“Oh Merlin, it’s terrible! It smells like shit? Like fucking… like ass or something!” He grimaces, sticking his tongue out as he is assaulted by the stench that only he can smell. “What the fuck is that? Oh my fucking word…”

You’re breaking into full out laughter at this point, nearly falling over onto the floor from the strength of your mirth. You barely hear Seokjin’s squawks of bewilderment, ignoring his demands to tell him what you had done to him.

“I can’t believe it worked,” you wheeze, hunched over on your knees. You’re spraying spit everywhere from your hysterics, though you are exaggerating your delight a little just to piss Seokjin off. You point and scream at his face, hollering like a banshee until he finally grabs your wrists to make you stop.

“Out with it! What the hell did you do to me?” he shouts, shaking you roughly with unhinged eyes.

It takes you a moment to respond, unable to breathe through your giggles. “You—you’re fucking—smelling your own—wheeze—your own ass!”

Seokjin stares at you, dumbfounded. “What?!”

“Your—HAHA—your fucking ass! I switched your nose to your ass, you idiot! Just like you asked!”

Seokjin’s jaw drops, complete bafflement and betrayal on his expression. He backs away from you, shaking his head slowly with bugged-out eyes as he begins to fully understand the weight of your treachery. “You,” he seethes, venom dripping from that singular word. He sounds like a pet owner about to scold their dumbass cat for eating his prized plastic big booby women figurines or something. 

You grin sweetly back at him, batting your eyelashes for extra effect. “Me? What about me?”

You don’t even have the reflexes to dodge him when he lunges for you, grabbing your neck and strangling you. “You bitch! How could you do this to me on my birthday!”

“Hehehe…” you wheeze, sounding even more goblin-ish with his grip on your throat. “You underestimated me, bastard. You asked for your ass to become your transformation point, and I did. You never said I couldn’t make transfer your sense of smell, too.”

“I didn’t ask you to make me smell my own ass! This is fucking garbage!” he yells, letting you go. You gasp for breath, but you’re still shaking with laughter at the absolutely deranged look in his eyes. He looks like an ape that was recently set free from his enclosure and out onto the streets.

“That’s what you get for not wiping your ass, then!” you retort, sticking your tongue out petulantly.

“Well, we can’t go to Namjoon’s house when all I can smell is my own fucking ass! Merlin, I should’ve downed the luck potion when you left to get changed, but I wanted to be A GOOD PERSON and so decided against it,” he sniffs, utterly irked by this turn of events. “I’m never going to be a moral person again!”

“When have you ever been one? I wasn’t even aware you had a conscience,” you say. “Wait, that reminds me. I’ll be taking these until we go to Namjoon’s, then!” You grab the luck and truth potions, keeping them behind your back. Seokjin immediately tries to grab them, but you’re quick to punch him in the gut with your free hand.

“Ooph! You’re such a meanie—aw shit!” Seokjin screams, holding his hands to his nose instinctively. “Fuck! That was a dirty move! You know hitting my stomach makes me fart! I can’t even cover my nose!”

“Hey, maybe for your next wish, you should ask for some cake. Then maybe we can recreate the cake farts video,” you suggest, mostly as a joke. But of course, you shouldn’t have been surprised when Seokjin starts to seriously contemplate your offer.

“Hmm… I was gonna ask for cake next, but now you’re making me really want cake now,” he hums, shrugging you off when you hit him in retaliation. “What? Why do you keep hitting me?! You’re the one who said it, not me! We might as well turn lemons into lemonade!”

“It was a fucking joke, you moron! I’m seriously going to eat you if you don’t stop being weird—”

“Oh shit, how do you keep reading my mind? Vore was gonna be my next wish too—”

“Shut up!” you hiss, your ears perking up. “I think I heard something from outside.”

You were both so busy bickering with each other that you hadn’t noticed that the doorbell had been ringing for the last minute or so. You both freeze, hearing the shrill sound of the bell going off, followed by three loud knocks. “Hello? Y/N? Are you home?” a familiar voice calls out. “It’s me, Taehyung!”

“Taehyung?” you shriek, staring incredulously at the door. He isn’t meant to visit until the end of the month to pick up refills for his grandfather’s medication. What could he need all of a sudden? “H-hold on! Gimme one sec!”

You’re only two steps away from answering the door when a growl (a squeal? Can hamsters growl?) stops you in your tracks. You slowly turn back to Seokjin, your blood running cold when you remember his blatant dislike for this particular customer. In fact, his aversion towards Taehyung runs so deep that you never allow him to stay in his human form around him lest he begins cursing him out like a sailor.

It doesn’t help, however, that Taehyung only ever sees him in his hamster form and constantly coos at him like a pet. You’ve had to apologize numerous times for the dozens of bites all over his hands and arms, but Taehyung always laughs it off, too oblivious to realize that a two-inch hamster wants to suffocate him with his own mullet.

There seems to be no discernable reason as to why Seokjin loathes Taehyung with such passion, though you’ve always suspected that it’s because he feels threatened by people prettier than him. You’d be the last person to admit to him that he’ll always be the prettiest in your eyes, especially since it would only make him ten times more insufferable.

Until then, Taehyung is just going to have to deal with a murderous, psychotic furball coming for his life. 

Aforementioned psychotic furball takes a step towards the front door, but you’re quick to block his path. “Don’t you dare,” you warn, but you can already sense Seokjin’s hackles rising.

“I know what I want for my next wish,” Seokjin responds instead, disregarding your order.

“Overruled. I’m not letting you kick Taehyung in the nuts,” you say, hands poised to attack. You’re about to smack him on the nose when you realize that it’s not going to work this time. “Fuck! Give me your ass! I am not letting you get away with murder for your birthday!”

“I’ll give you my ass next time, darling. For now, I must defeat my sworn enemy, once and for all!” he howls, making a mad dash towards the door. “I’ll kill you, pretty boy! Only one person can be pretty, and it’s going to be me!”

He may be quicker than you on a regular day, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins gives you enough speed to land a loud, fat slap on his ass before he can even think to twist the doorknob open. Seokjin yelps in surprise as he turns towards you with a betrayed look in his eyes, before promptly being swallowed up by pink smoke and leaving an aggressive ball of fur where he once stood.

“Squeak! Squeak squeak squeak squeak!!” he squeaks, and you’ve long since learned his mannerisms well enough that you know that he just said “Y/N! I’ll fucking kill you!!” or something to that effect.

You pick him up gently into your hands, shushing him to no avail. “Fine, if you’re going to be that way—” you hiss, glaring at him when he gives you a haughty squeak. “—then I’ll just have to...yah!” you yell, hucking him across your living room and (safely) onto the couch.

(Caution: Do not do this to your hamsters. Seokjin is a magical hamster and is unnaturally sturdy, even in hamster form. He is an outlier and should not be counted. Plus, he deserves it.)

With Seokjin out of the way, you finally manage to get the door open without trouble. You greet Taehyung with a smile, although you do not doubt in your mind that you must look a bit worse for wear. Like the gentleman that he is, Taehyung doesn’t comment on your haggard appearance.

“Hey, Y/N. Sorry for intruding without notice. May I come in?” he asks. You nod a little too enthusiastically, stepping aside and allowing him into your abode. You glance at the couch, gasping quietly when you don’t see Seokjin anywhere. 

“Shit,” you curse lowly, to which Taehyung turns to you with a confused look.

“Pardon?” He must have mistaken your agitation to be directed towards him, as he bows to you apologetically. “Sorry again, you must be busy with other things today, but I’m in desperate need of a refill.”

“A refill?” you ask, semi-distracted as your eyes flit around the room, desperately searching for the small brown ball undoubtedly zipping around right under your nose. “What for? Is your grandfather doing okay?”

“Yes, ol’ pops is doing fine. I’m here to ask for a refill for… the other thing,” he coughs, cheeks darkening ever so slightly. His embarrassed tone breaks you from your search for Seokjin, forcing your gaze on him instead.

“The other thing? What do you mean—oh,” you interrupt yourself, finally understanding his meaning. “That thing.”

Taehyung nods frantically, hiding his face in his hands. “S-sorry, I know I asked for that potion as a one-time thing, but I met this new girl who’s really energetic, and let’s just say that I’m not keen on disappointing her when we’ve only started dating.”

You chuckle lightly, patting him on the back. “No need to explain, Tae. I’m not here to judge you. Besides, I just hope this girl doesn’t accidentally kill you like the previous one. Didn’t you say you went at it for three days straight?”

Taehyung groans, his flush growing until it reaches the back of his neck. “D-don’t even remind me about that! I accidentally took two doses of the potion that time and I was wishing for death by the seventh hour. I swear, I thought my dick was gonna turn into a raisin by the end of it—”

“Squeak!”

You both turn your heads towards the shrill noise coming from somewhere in your kitchen. “Shit, I forgot! T-Tae, just stay right here! I’ll be right back.” You jog towards the source, suddenly remembering that there was a live rodent on the loose with an evil agenda and only you would be able to stop him from fulfilling his goals.

You burst inside, immediately spotting that your bottom cupboard is ajar. It’s where you keep your extra stores of potions for regular customers, but you have very little time to wonder which potion Seokjin is aiming for before you’re already ripping open the door to stop the vermin.

“Oh you fucking little ballsack,” you snarl, dismayed when you realize that you’re too late. Seokjin has already found the potion he was looking for, having opened it up and already halfway finished drinking the damn thing.

You slap him away from the bottle before he can do any more damage, smacking him hard enough that his tiny hamster body slams against the cupboard wall. You don’t miss the victorious furry grin on his face, holding up a tiny hamster thumbs up to spite you. “What the hell did you drink?” you hiss, grabbing the half-empty bottle and flipping it over to read the label. “Verbosity potion… Oh, you bastard!”

You know Seokjin has always wanted to cuss out Taehyung like it’s his life mission, but you’ve always made sure that he was safely locked away in his bedroom whenever the younger boy was over for a visit. Seokjin knows today was his only opportunity to get his way, especially since he could always weasel his way out of punishment by using his birthday as an excuse.

“If you say even one word to Taehyung, I swear I’ll—”

“Y/N? Is everything alright?” Taehyung asks meekly from the living room, still standing where you had left him. He has his neck craned slightly to check up on you, but your back is thankfully blocking his view of the tiny psychopath you call your familiar.

“Y-yes! Everything’s just peachy keen,” you laugh nervously, your attention still focused on Seokjin. Your familiar has yet to make a peep, and both of you are slightly confused when he struggles to speak.

“S...squeak?” Seokjin asks, blinking in bewilderment. He looks to you for an explanation, but you’re as lost as he is. Not to toot your own horn, but you’re one of the greatest potion makers of your generation; it’s almost unheard of for your potions to not work.

You don’t question it for now; instead, you grab Taehyung’s requested refill from the back, the red and pink label making it easy to locate. “Here you go! This should be less intense than the previous one I gave you. This one will lose its effect once you’ve… finished, to say the least,” you grimace, smiling awkwardly.

Taehyung takes it from you, shaking your hands wildly. “Thank you so much, Y/N! You’re definitely a lifesaver. I owe you one,” he says, already making his way out the door. “I’ll hand over the payment to you when I come to pick up my grandfather’s medicines at the end of the month if that’s fine with you!”

“No worries, Tae. Take care!” you call out, waving goodbye until he closes your door shut. With Taehyung gone, you instantly return to kneel in front of your cupboard, where Seokjin is still slumped over, unmoving. He looks more dazed than usual, his black eyes unseeing as he stares somewhere behind you.

“Seokjin? You alright? Can you speak?” you ask, but he doesn’t react, as if he hadn’t heard you. You wave a hand in front of his face, snapping your fingers when that doesn’t work. “Hey, smooth brain. I’m sorry for smacking you, okay? I know it’s your birthday and I should be treating you better, but you really shouldn’t snoop around in my potion stores and drink stuff without my permission.”

When Seokjin still does not reply, you decide to pick him up and place him on the floor. You tap him on the bum, waiting a few seconds until Seokjin is back to his human form. When the smoke fades, he’s still stuck in his stupor, but you notice the dark red flush creeping up his neck and ears.

“Seokjinnie? Holy shit, are you okay?” You panic slightly, holding a hand up to his forehead and gasping when you feel the sharp rise in his body temperature. He is definitely feverish, and you’re worried that he might have had some allergic reaction to the potion or something. “Shit, are you getting a rash? Sweetie, can you hear me? Say something, please.”

“Y/N,” he rasps, licking his lips. His pupils are undilated to an unnerving degree, and his breathing is ragged. He stands up unsteadily, wobbling in place. “Fuck, I don’t really feel well.” His voice is deep, speaking unusually slower. You shudder involuntarily, fearful and intrigued all at once.

You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. Seokjin could seriously be in danger right now! Now is not the time to get horny! “Seokjin, explain how you feel. I’ll try to figure out what antidote I should make in case you actually did accidentally poison yourself with something,” you say hurriedly, going over to your stove and grabbing a spare cauldron from its rack. You’re grabbing random herbs and chucking them into a pot, too preoccupied and worried to hear Seokjin groan behind you.

“I feel… hot. And not in a sexy way,” Seokjin whimpers, curling into himself. There is sweat lining the edge of his brow, despite the house being relatively chilly due to the cold weather. “Okay, maybe a little bit in a sexy way.”

“Well if you can still joke about it, then it shouldn’t be life-threatening, whatever this is,” you say. Seokjin coughs out a laugh, but even that makes him cringe from the discomfort.

You decide to check the potion he had drank and see what ingredients you had used, as it usually will tell you how to make a reverse for it. When you grab the bottle, it only just hits you that the color of the potion is a little off than you remember. If you remember correctly, verbosity potions are usually a pale yellow color, but this one has a darker and deeper tone. In fact, you could see flecks of red sediment floating around, something that you recognize as wyvern blood.

Hold on… Verbosity potions don’t require wyvern blood. Very few potions require it at all, and the only one you can think of that would need it is none other than—

“Oh fucking shit,” you curse for what feels like the twentieth time in this story. You whip your head to face Seokjin, whose entire upper body seems to be bathed in a deep red flush. He’s panting in earnest now, tongue lolling out as he fights the fever consuming him. Little does he know, it isn’t a regular type of fever that he’ll be able to recover with medicine. You gulp, struggling to find an explanation.

“So, umm…” You laugh hesitantly, rubbing the back of your neck with a wry smile. Seokjin peeks up at you from behind his bangs, some of it plastered to his forehead from sweat. The faraway look in his eyes has disappeared, replaced by an unsettling hunger and darkness that is uncharacteristic for the mischievous hamster shifter. You gulp. “Seokjin, I think I know what you drank and it wasn’t the verbosity potion.”

“What?” he croaks, wincing when he adjusts himself to lean on the kitchen counter. You catch sight of a bulge forming in the front of his pajama shorts, miraculously still unnoticed by Seokjin himself. “Fuck, Y/N. I’m burning up.”

The way he utters your name brings a shiver down your spine, and your familiar notices immediately. His gaze is transfixed on the exposed part of your neck, trailing over your skin until his eyes finally land on your lips. You lick them unconsciously, with Seokjin following the movement.

“Seokjin, I need you to get to bed right now. I don’t know how long this potion is going to last, but I’m gonna need you to—”

“What did you do to me?” Seokjin growls, his grip on the counter tightening to the point that he may have cracked the marble. You know he’s strong despite being a prey shifter, but you didn’t think he’d become this powerful and aggravated. You’re guessing that it might be a side effect from him drinking the potion when he was in his hamster form. He had more or less drunk the dosage required for a regular-sized human, so his smaller body size must have led to a slight overdose. This is all guesswork on your part, but hindsight isn’t going to help you right now.

“I, umm… I think I might have accidentally mislabelled the potion,” you admit reluctantly, feeling meek under his heavy presence. You’ve never felt threatened or intimidated by him before, so this is completely uncharted territory for you. You know deep in your heart that he’d never do anything to hurt you even in his inebriated state, but you would still do well to take all your precautions when approaching him. “I think… I might have given Taehyung the wrong potion, too.”

Seokjin doesn’t respond and just keeps watching you as you fidget in place. You continue, “H-he came over today because he wanted a refill, right? W-well, he actually asked for libido potion. And, so—”

“You gave me horny juice? Is that what’s happening?” Seokjin groans, crossing his legs together when he finally registers the very distinct swelling in his underwear. “Fuck,” he moans, involuntarily humping the air to search for some sort of reprieve.

You scoff, trying to keep your tone as level as possible so as not to alarm him. “What do you mean I gave you horny juice? You’re the one who drank it without permission!” you retort, but the scolding dies on your lips when Seokjin starts to grind against the counter, small gasps leaving his mouth. Your throat goes dry, and you know it’ll only be a few more moments before Seokjin’s limited control will start to slip away.

“Y-Y/N, what do I do?” he whines, giving up on the counter and weakly reaching out for you. “I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t cum right now. I-I need you.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you start, your stomach swirling with arousal. His scent is stronger than usual, filling your senses with nothing but caramel, mint, and Seokjin. Even as you’re talking, you feel your resolve chipping away despite your better judgment. “You’re not thinking properly right now, and I don’t wanna take advantage of you—”

“N-no! I want it, no, I want you. I’ve always wanted you,” he pants, taking the two short steps to latch his hands on your waist. You flinch when you feel his large palms touch you, the heat palpable even through your clothes. Even with lust clouding his vision, he is gentle with you, like he’s afraid of hurting you. “I-I know you must think I’m a nuisance, and I’ve done n-nothing but annoy you these past few months, but I… I genuinely care about you a lot, Y/N. W-which is why I was so hurt when I thought you forgot my birthday, but even if you did, I was j-just happy to be living with you. Because I really lo—”

He gasps, unable to finish his thought as he accidentally tightens his grasp on you. He pulls you closer until your bodies are aligned, nuzzling into your neck. His teeth scrape your skin slightly, pulling a loud moan from you. You flush, embarrassed, but you have no time to worry about that when you feel how incredibly hard and solid he is against your stomach.

“P-please, help me? It doesn’t have to mean anything; we can forget about it after but right now, I don’t think I’m going to live past tomorrow unless I have my cock stuffing your pussy right this very moment,” he says in one breath, his hands reaching behind you to squeeze your ass. He inhales deeply, releasing it with a content sigh. “Fuck, I can already smell how wet you are. I just know my cock will stretch it out real good, just like how I always dreamed.”

“You… you dreamt of me like that?” you whisper, shocked. You don’t know why your brain latches onto that piece of information out of all the filthy things he just said, but you have to admit that the thought of him having wet dreams about you turns you on greatly.

“Are you kidding me? Have you seen yourself?” He sounds incredulous, like you’d just said something completely unfathomable to him. “Fuck, do you remember when I got my rut two months ago, and I stayed with Namjoon and Yoongi so that you wouldn’t feel awkward around me? They love to tease me about the number of times I moaned your name every time I came,” he admits. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you even if I tried.”

“Fuck, Seokjinnie,” you whine, your fingers scrambling to hang onto his chest, his back, his neck—anywhere, really. Your legs feel like jelly, afraid that you might stumble from how weak you’ve become from your own arousal. “Why didn’t you say anything before now?”

“I’m sorry I had to confess this way,” he says, caressing your hair with unexpected tenderness. He chuckles quietly, his breath tickling your neck. “But I really mean it, horny juice or not.”

Your heart squeezes inside your chest, not believing your lucky stars for allowing you to meet this wonderful boy in front of you. You can hardly believe your ears; never in your wildest dreams would you ever expect that he would also like you back.

“Seokjin, I also—” you begin, ready to spill your feelings all over the floor, but the moment is broken when Seokjin abruptly lifts you by the ass, his palms squeezing you as he barrels determinedly to his bedroom. You shriek in surprise, clutching onto his neck and holding on for dear life. “What the fuck? Seokjin, put me down!”

“No time for feelings! We can talk after we fuck,” he hoots, bouncing you onto the bed. You grunt from the impact, disoriented by the quick turn of events. Your head is spinning, so you don’t even register Seokjin’s hands peeling off your pants in one smooth motion.

A mixture of the cold air and nerves causes your legs to be littered with goosebumps. Seokjin, ever the attentive familiar, notices and rubs soothing circles all over, the heat inside of you coming back with a vengeance. “Sorry about that, baby,” he coos, massaging you. You shake your head, telling him it’s alright.

You are embarrassed when you feel how your panties stick uncomfortably against your skin, already so painfully aroused as if you had been the one affected by the potion. Your shame melts away when you see how much worse Seokjin is, however, as his nostrils flare with want. 

“I’m glad my nose still works, by the way. I don’t know what I’d do if I missed the opportunity to smell your pretty pussy,” he sighs, situating himself in between your legs. He blows gently against your clothed slit, effectively causing all coherency to leave you for the night.

He watches your reactions slyly, his body heat radiating off of him in waves. For once, he looks more like predator than prey. “I know I said I was desperate to fuck you, but do you mind if I start with an appetizer first? I wanted cake today, but turns out my dessert was here all along…” he trails off, smirking when he catches the steadily growing spot on your underwear. “Oh, baby. I know you’re going to be the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“I-I,” you stutter, shuddering with desire. You whimper pathetically as he traces your panties with a fingernail, your stomach clenching with desire. “I didn’t know you could be like this.”

“Like what?” he hums, pulling your panties off to join your discarded pants. He grins at the sight of your glistening core, wetting his lips in anticipation. “God, you’re so pretty. I could just eat you up.”

“Then why don’t you?” you reply, trying to gain some semblance of control. That silly notion is thrown out the window, however, the moment Seokjin licks a fat stripe up your cunt. “Ngnnhh, fuck!”

Seokjin moans in tandem with you, slurping you up like a starved man. “Baby, you’re just as good as I thought. I could cum from eating you out alone.” He takes a deep breath, kissing your core almost chastely. “Fuck, I know I could cum from this alone,” he amends, rubbing his clothed length against the bed sheets.

The velvety wet heat of his tongue on your dripping pussy makes you clench around nothing, ripping a scream out of you when he focuses directly on your clit. He sucks with an obscene grin on his face, holding your hips down when your entire body begins to tremble.

“So sensitive,” Seokjin says, sluggish and gravelly like he’s drunk on your taste. “So fucking sensitive. How are you real, baby?”

“Jinnie, please,” you whine, doing your best to grind on his tongue despite his iron hold on you. “I want more, please.”

Seokjin only chuckles darkly, continuing his vicious pace. “C’mon, use my tongue like you want,” he says, letting go of you and allowing you to hump his mouth with reckless abandon.

You do as he says, swirling your hips against him with reckless abandon. The heat in your abdomen steadily builds, and you know you’re only seconds away from tipping over. “I’m close, Seokjin,” you huff, chasing your high. “Please, let me cum? Can I cum, Seokjinnie?”

He nods his head, unable to respond verbally as you continue to assault his tongue. After three more licks, you release with a silent scream, writhing violently from the strength of it. 

He gives your clit one last sweet peck, sitting up with a feral grin on his face. His chin is dripping with your arousal, his plump lips redder than usual. He makes a show of licking your juices around his mouth, chuckling when all you can do is swallow wantonly.

“Thank you for the meal, baby,” he teases, his lust-riddled gaze slightly clearer now that he’s had a proper taste of you. However, the glaring tent in his shorts is still painfully present, a small darkened patch visible on his crotch.

“Wan’ your cock,” you slur, boneless and blissed out but still filled with the longing for more. “Fill my cunnie until I can’t walk anymore,” you croak, pussy twitching for extra measure. Seokjin’s expression twists, his pupils widening until his eyes are pitch black.

Seokjin doesn’t waste any more time. He rips his shorts off in record time, stripping himself of his shirt as well. You remove your own shirt and bra, causing your nipples to harden from the cold air. You tweak them as you wait for Seokjin to get himself situated, hungrily appreciating his beautiful torso and god-like shoulders. “Don’t use a condom, Jinnie. I want to feel all of you,” you say when he begins to reach inside his dresser. You can physically feel his unhinged desire growing from your words, your pussy dripping in anticipation.

“Gonna fill your pretty pussy, huh? Fill you until you have my babies?” he rasps, positioning his cock in front of you. “Gonna plug you up with my cum, Y/N? Is that what you want?”

You cant your hips upward, whining when his tip only just grazes your lips teasingly. “Fuck me already,” you beg. “Want you to ruin me.”

“Who am I to deny you? Ask and you shall receive,” he grins, before slowly pushing inside. Your jaw drops at the intrusion, as it’s been a while since you’ve last gotten fucked like this. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Almost like your pussy is sucking me in,” he groans, straining to keep himself from thrusting all the way into you. “Like you’re made for me.”

“You can m-move faster. I can take it,” you whisper, eyebrows pulling together. You sound desperate to your own ears, the pain and pleasure mixing deliciously and making your cunt weep with want. 

There is a moment of hesitation on Seokjin’s part, but that all drains away when he sees your determination. Without another warning, he shoves himself up to the hilt, causing you to arch your back with a loud cry.

“Fuck,” he curses, but there is still worry in his eyes. “Baby, are okay? Are you good?”

It takes you a moment to remember how to speak. “C’mon, Seokjin. Move. I can take it,” you beg. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he moans, but nods his head anyway.

Seokjin pulls back until only his tip remains inside you before slamming back harshly, hard enough that you’re sliding backward. He begins his brutal pace, his dick stretching you out nicely like he promised. You let out tiny squeaks with every pump of cock, hitting you perfectly in the spot that makes you see stars.

“Kiss me?” you gasp out in between moans, pulling him by the hair until you’re kissing him sloppily. It’s more teeth than anything, as Seokjin grunts into your mouth with every tug of his roots. You bite his bottom lip after a particularly rough thrust, but it only encourages him to pick up the pace.

You wrap your legs around his torso, pulling him as close as humanly possible. You can already feel your second orgasm approaching rapidly, your toes curling in anticipation.

“Seokjinnie, I’m gonna cum soon. Please, I can’t hold it—”

“I’m close too,” he says hotly in your ear. He sucks a bruise into your neck, moaning when he feels your pussy tighten in response. He drills into your cunt faster, the rhythm of his thrusts growing sloppy as he reaches his own release. He reaches down between the two of you, rubbing circles into your clit. “Fuck, baby. Cum with me?”

You sob his name, your muscles contracting as your body lights up with intense pleasure. Your back arches off the bed, your walls milking Seokjin dry until thick white ropes of cum start leaking in rivulets down your sopping cunt and all over your thighs. You can feel his throbbing length inside you as continuous streams of hot seed keep flowing from him, filling you to the brim.

Seokjin slowly comes to a complete halt, but he still hasn’t pulled out. “I’m gonna keep my cum in you for a moment, okay? Don’t wanna waste any of it, right?”

You can only nod tiredly in agreement, completely tuckered out. Your chest heaves from your laboured breathing, but the smile on your face can only be described as content. “Wow. Color me surprised. Didn’t think you’d wanna be a father so early,” you say hoarsely.

Now sated, Seokjin’s demeanor returns to its normal state, his aura less crazed than before. He has the decency to look embarrassed, but the twinkle in his eyes shows that he doesn’t regret it in the slightest. “I’d be more than happy to be the father of your children. We’re already going to live with each other forever, so I might as well raise your children anyway.”

“Might as well?” you laugh, pressing a soft kiss on the corner of his lips. “You make it sound like it’s your obligation. And who said I’d live with you forever?”

“Well, I mean, who else is going to love you the way that I do?” he murmurs, nuzzling your noses together. “Who else would be your annoyingly handsome hamster familiar?”

“Quite,” you grumble, allowing him to maneuver you into a more comfortable cuddling position. You kiss him properly this time, enjoying the sweet, warm pleasure of his affection. You’ve never felt so happy in your life. “Happy birthday, Seokjin. I’m sorry this isn’t the way I planned for it to go, but I honestly wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Agreed. It’s just like us, huh?” he snorts. He cushions your face against his chest, carding his fingers tenderly through your hair. “Say… Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Tell me, what does your pink hair actually mean?”

You chuckle, snuggling deeper into his comforting scent. You feel yourself slipping into slumber, eyelids threatening to fall. You’ve always loved cuddling Seokjin, after all. But most of all... 

I love you, of course. “I think you already know, genius.”

Even when the sun finishes its descent from the sky and darkness fills the room, the bright pink of your hair glows—unfaltering.

[lyricdissonance]

i warned you there’d be weird introspective shit (aka a lengthy summary of the past month of my life for anyone who wants to know bc i’m trying to be more honest and open about my feelings, i don’t know how to tag this but if medical and death discussion would bother you i recommend skipping this. there’s a happy ending though)

on october 22nd, i went to see a band that means a lot to me at a concert i’d been looking forward to for the better part of the past year. the lead singer almost died of a heart attack that night.

i won’t be naming the band in this post, out of not wanting it to show up in some innocent person’s search, but if you really need to know you can dig up my music blog and scroll down. meanwhile i think i can get everything across just fine without names.

i went from the soaring highs of concert adrenaline, to the confusion of knowing something had gone wrong but not knowing what, to the most uncertain and unsettled week of my life as i waited for any kind of update or explanation, to the sudden combination of good news (that he was alive and recovering) and bad news (that what happened had been far more serious than i’d imagined) that left me physically shaking. i was stuck with this huge amount of empathy that my autistic self didn’t know how to process, mental images of both things i saw and things i only read that wouldn’t leave my head, and regret that i hadn’t recognized the signs from behind the barricades and done something, as if there was anything i could have done.

the next three weeks were... an experience. i got constant random waves of anxiety, guilt, and sadness. all my friends and family wanted to know everything about the big vacation i’d just been on, and it hurt to feel like i couldn’t tell them the truth that not everything during it had been beautiful. i started to think every tiny twinge of pain or fatigue in my body was a sign that my own heart was giving out, making me almost have a panic attack at work one day over the fear that i was about to drop dead and my coworkers wouldn’t find me until it was far too late. i didn’t understand why this was affecting me so much: if he survived, then what did i have to worry about? i told myself i was overreacting, making a fool of myself. get a hold of yourself, no one cares about some weird band you like and some weird singer you have a crush on. what kind of obsessive parasocial shit is this?

it took many conversations with both therapist and friends before i could try to be kind to myself and acknowledge the struggle i was having. even now, it’s still a challenge: i kept stopping in the process of writing this post to think “why even say this when all the worst is over?” but i think if i’m going to respect myself and my emotional struggles i have to be open about them when i can be, stop convincing myself that no one cares what i think or what i have to say, let other people know it’s okay if your feelings are huge and complicated and too much to contain, that you’re not alone.

the worst of my feelings are finally fading now. the band let us know he was finally home from the hospital a day short of four weeks after the show. not just home, but apparently improving at a remarkable rate too. it was the first time in those four weeks that i found myself feeling hope again. i’ve said it before but in hindsight the whole past month feels like a dream, a total blur of emotion that seemed to last both a day and a year. all because i loved a band’s music so much that i flew across an ocean to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. all because i loved a band’s music so much that i couldn’t stand the thought of losing them.

my therapist asked me last week if i thought i’d learned anything from this experience. i’m still not sure what i’d answer her. but i learned that life is unpredictable, i learned that asking for help is worth it, i learned that there’s more love in my heart than i know how to handle sometimes, i learned that we’re all stronger than we think we are. and because i don’t know how else to end this, i ended up telling the band over instagram dm about the tattoo i got in their honor before i left norway, when i was still lost in doubts begging the universe to make sure he was okay. i think a part of me thought it would be a good luck charm. it’s based on some of their lyrics, it’s not much but it’s a small, simple drawing of a crescent moon over a rooftop. i don’t know for sure who answered that dm, but they did so last week with a “this is amazing! thank you so much” and a heart. in my mind i’ve framed that message on the wall

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, not to get into the TW discourse again today, because I am so done with that, but I do have to say one last thing about yesterday’s posts, because the ones I made really didn’t sit well with me in hindsight.

For years I’ve always stressed that I will never even try to defend Scott’s actions with Isaac in 3B, because they were flat out wrong and don’t need to be defended. I should have just stopped there. Every single other point I made in regards to THAT specific argument was irrelevant, because that’s the only thing that matters there. 

The scene was bad. Scott was wrong. It doesn’t need to be defended. 

HOWEVER.

(C’mon, its ME. You HAD to know there was a but coming.)

We are now willfully shifting gears to engage with another aspect of this entirely, the one we should have been focusing on all along:

The thing is I fell for one of the more obvious but effective discourse tactics, the shell game (hide the real argument behind a bunch of smaller arguments JUST tangential enough to the original topic that its easy to claim no derailment is happening - its basically the online equivalent of bigger law firms drowning their opposition in so many minor suits and filings that they eventually just can’t keep up).

Okay, because see.....here’s the problem. ‘The other side’ of this argument keeps trying to make it about that singular scene in 3A, and attacking Scott’s actions in it so obviously people are defensive....but we keep responding by trying to defend Scott’s overall CHARACTER rather than justifying a single scene. And we should be focusing on the scene, not the character. Because their fundamental argument has always been ‘well how can you defend THIS scene?’

And the actual answer to THAT has always been.....uh....we don’t?

There’s not a SINGLE Scott stan I know that likes that scene. It wasn’t something we wanted to see repeated, something we celebrated because Scott was exercising his primal Alpha power and right to rule or whatever the fuck. At no point have I EVER seen a Scott stan try and justify that scene as it being something RIGHT to do. Some people try and create a context for it to make sense of it in terms of why and how Scott could do that at all, but that is still aimed squarely at disavowing that scene as something we REJECT as an example of his characterization. We flat out DO NOT WANT IT.

Now.

Try and tell me the same can be said of Stiles and Derek stans defending THEIR abusive moments. Claim that nobody’s ever argued (extensively) how Stiles was JUSTIFIED in that hospital hallway scene in 5B. Imagine for a moment, what fandom would even look like if huge swaths of people hadn’t gone to fucking town defending Stiles for his actions in Lunatic, saying Scott deserved it and it wasn’t that bad, honestly. Same with Heart Monitor. Say people didn’t laugh and hope for more scenes like that instead of being eww why the fuck are they acting like this is normal BFF behavior. Pretend there weren’t YEARS of arguments justifying Derek’s violence with Scott and his betas by saying oh Scott did bad things too and also he said mean things so he deserved it and Derek was just teaching them how to survive and it was his right as their alpha, they knew what they were getting into, etc, etc, etc. 

No but seriously. Go on. Make those claims.

Y’know. So I can laugh at you for being dumb and saying dumb things.

See, THAT’S the difference here. THAT’S the ACTUAL issue constantly getting shoved behind endless attempts at obfuscation.

Yeah, Scott’s actions in that scene in 3B were bad. We’ve literally never disagreed on that point. Show me a single post from my blog or any of the Scott meta blogs, where one of us ever tried to argue that Isaac DESERVED what Scott did. Said ‘well Isaac did kiss his ex-girlfriend, what did he think was gonna happen?’

And the nerve of some people to habitually - for YEARS - harass Scott fans and hone in on that ONE Scott and Isaac scene like they actually give a single FUCK about abuse or abuse survivors, and like that scene has ever had anything to do with them not liking Scott.....

Because the truth under the right shell is the reason they never let the arguments focus on Derek and Stiles’ most abusive scenes at all....

IS BECAUSE THEY DON’T THINK THERE’S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THEM.

They’ve ALREADY spent years justifying that shit. We’ve seen it. Endlessly.

And like I’m gonna take deep thoughts on abuse from people who claim that taping up your friend and throwing lacrosse balls at him, getting him beaten up, treating him like an actual animal to humiliate him.....that all of that is normal, acceptable behavior between friends? People who have so little conviction on these matters that you just KNOW they would be screaming about how abusive it was if the roles had been switched and it was STILES being physically punished and it was SCOTT filling up a dog bowl and treating Stiles like a dog as payback for something? 

Nope.

This farce has gone on too long, and fuck your bullshit tactics of trying to weaponize issues you know some of us actually truly care about just for the sake of turning people against a fictional TV character. Why are we acting like you actually give a shit about what was actually wrong with that scene in 3B? You don’t! We have a literal decade of proof! Of you being willing to go to any lengths to defend not just Stiles and Derek’s actions....no, but their RIGHT to be physically abusive with the other characters. Saying that the other characters DESERVED this behavior, that they were JUSTIFIED in the HOW of their specific interactions.

You’ve never tried actually defending Stiles and Derek’s worst moments because you don’t think you have to. You're fine with them.

And then you turn around and act like you actually give a shit about what Scott did to Isaac, when you know damn well that none of us have EVER tried to argue that he was RIGHT to do that, or that Isaac somehow deserved it.

Like. LOL. Fuck off.

Anyway, I’m done with this particular discourse for good, there’s literally nothing more to say because its actually always been really simple all along....but like, free soundbite for anyone who does still run into these assholes and have them try and pull this shit per usual. They raise this argument again, just say this:

“Scott shouldn’t have done that, agreed. And we can talk about that.....after we talk about whether or not you think Stiles and Derek were justified in their worst actions in Heart Monitor, Lunatic, Ice Pick, etc. Otherwise we’re just not on the same page here and never will be, so bye.”

The End.

Anyway, I am literally done with this forever and ever, that is henceforth the only thing I have to say on this subject, everyone feel free to do whatever you will with this post, @ me and I’ll just smile and wave at those in the rear view mirror, its been a long road but at least we’ll always have Paris, etc etc etc aaaaaaand scene. 

[dramaqueeenamby]

Waves: Quarantine

A/N: It's been way too long since I've done something for the Wavesverse, and I apologize deeply. I have a few requests related to this series to complete, but I couldn't knock this idea.

Words: 4K

Warnings: None

Tags: @babe-im-bi @notacamelthatsmywife @missyperle @queenoftheworldisdead @tashawar @valkryienymph @letsshamelessqueen-m @hello-therree @mani-lifes @liquorlaughslove @toni9 @koko-michelle @theequeenofcurses @taylortheeshowpony

Waves

Summer placed her phone inside of the mount and made sure that it was secured before she sat back in her bed, getting comfortable with the mass of pillows supporting her back, and smiling tentatively. “Hi, guys.”

Summer!

Someone tell me this isn’t a joke???? Please???

She lives!

Sis, blink twice if you need help.

Summer rolled her eyes. “Ya’ll better stop. I know it’s been a minute since I’ve hopped on live, but it hasn’t been that damn long.”

Summer continued to read the comments where more than a few people pointed out she hadn’t gone live on Instagram in over three months. Her mouth dropped. “Ya’ll lying. It has not been almost six months, has it?” She placed her hand over her mouth when people started dropping dates in the comments. “Okay, I stand corrected. Damn, I’m sorry, guys.”

Don’t be sorry, bestie. Do better!

Damn, ya’ll are so entitled. Celebrities have lives too.

What life? We all been in quarantine.

Rich people quarantine be different from us poor folks, I guess.

“So that’s actually one of the things I wanted to talk about.” Summer cleared her throat. “And I’m going to try really hard to make sure I word what I want to say as clear and as effective as I can, but I know this is still going to end up as a salacious headline. So, it is what it is.”

Oooh, Summer about to drop some tea.

I don’t see her wedding ring, ya’ll…..

I’m scared omg.

Watch this be nothing but a role announcement.

She shrugged and took a deep breath. “Okay, so a few days ago, I did the Buss It challenge, after being harassed by Sanda. And can I just say that filming was a challenge in and of itself? Not necessarily the movements but preparing? I’ve got two kids, twins, who are like the Tasmanian devil. I was literally up at 3 something in the morning trying to record it because my wild children won’t let me be great.” She chuckled. “Kids are something else.”

Summer truly jumped through hoops and was a damn near acrobat trying to figure out when she could not only get herself done up but actually record the challenge. Being the perfectionist that she was didn’t help, but the fact that she couldn’t recall the last time she’d put on makeup and dressed up was a whole other fiasco.

Quarantine definitely brought out her bum side.

“All of that aside, I truly was satisfied and happy with the final product when I posted it. In hindsight, I should have just left it that, but I wake up every day and choose chaos, so I decided to read the comments.” She blew out a breath. “One of the most frequent comments and really, insults, I’ve received my whole career. Primarily, since I was cast as Storm, revolves around how I look. I.e., my weight. I’ve been called fat, obese, out of shape, and so many other things.”

It was 100% true. The minute Marvel announced that she’d been chosen to play Storm, the racists came all out of the woodworks. She was too short, too chubby, too dark, too black. And Summer didn’t care, not a bit.

“Even,—and I’ll tell you guys this, when I first started my SS training, that’s what I call it, SS for Storm Shape, there was a—person who worked for Marvel at the time who came to visit me while I was training.” She smiled thinking back on that day. She could still recall it so clearly. “He basically was pissed because to him, I still looked the same, fat and out of shape.” She adjusted her top and shifted in her bed. “That same day, I deadlifted and bench-pressed over 200lbs” She paused for effect. “What I need for people to stop doing is stop fucking projecting—and I’m going to cuss in this, so if you don’t like it, oh well. I work for Disney, but I’m a grown ass woman, and I’m going to say what I want.”

I am screaming. Summer said we getting alll the tea today!

So, it’s wrong to point out that someone is physically unhealthy now, cool?

The problem is that no one wants to see a fat superhero. It’s not realistic.

^^^^ Tell me you have a small dick without actually telling me you have a small dick.

“I saw Lizzo, whom I adore, post a Tik Tok where she basically said that she workouts to have the body she wants not what ya’ll want, and honestly? Same. She said that her body type is no one’s fucking business, and that’s so true. Ya’ll love to hop on this internet and pick apart people you don’t even know and criticize bodies you don’t even have to live in and move around with. And for what?” She shook her head, slamming her fist into her open palm as she spoke. She was fully invested now. “I know we in quarantine, but damn, pick another hobby cause being a bully is not it, sweetie.”

I really needed to hear this today.

Using Lizzo as a point of reference makes everything you’re saying null and void. Lizzo is clearly overweight and at risk for diabetes, heart disease, just to name a few…..

I been saying this! You can’t look at a person and say they’re unhealthy.

Bodies come in so many forms, and all are beautiful.

“Now, I bring all this up because a lot of people were commenting on my Buss It challenge and pointing out the fact that I’ve gained weight, and guess fucking what? I have, and you know what else?” She leaned over to whisper while covering her mouth with her hands for focused effect. “I don’t care.”

Summer laughed and shook her head. “As others have pointed out as well, yes, we have a gym in our house. I 1000% acknowledge the fact that having the resources that I do as a celebrity and someone who has money puts me in a different category. Hell, my husband has a whole fitness app. I recognize that. If I wanted to keep up with my workouts, emphasis on wanted, I could have. I own up to that, but I just didn’t feel like it, and that’s okay. What’s not okay is to send and leave mean messages calling me all kinds of names.”

Summer had thick skin. She always had. Growing up with her family, who always ensured to feed her self esteem and make sure she knew that she was beautiful, definitely paid off. It was just a combination of quarantine and not having a lot of opportunities to keep herself busy with work that had her feeling some type of way.

“And that’s something else I wanted to bring up.” She blew out another breath and tried to gather her emotions. This was the subject she was almost certain she’d grow teary eyed discussing. “I love my husband to death. My children are everything. Christopher’s family is like my own, but— I haven’t seen my family, like my mom, grandma, brothers, etc in almost a year.” She paused, dwelling on that. Almost an entire year since she’d been able to physically hug and interact with the people who made her who she was. “And I’ve always made it clear how much I fucking love my family. I live in Australia. I can’t do a drive by with grandma so I and my kids can at least see her on the doorstep.” She quieted again, eyes darting off as she quietly cursed. “I’m trying really hard not to cry right now.”

Please don’t cry, bestie.

This is the side of quarantine that people don’t talk about enough.

Has this woman never heard of FaceTime????

I feel her pain. I live in Europe, and my family is in the states. This quarantine has been brutal.

My grandma died from COVID, and I couldn’t even go to the funeral. Summer is bringing up a good point.

“Damn,” Summer chuckled bitterly and wiped at the tears that fell. “I’m okay, I promise. I just bring this up because quarantine has also been very hard for me in that aspect. At certain points, I’ve been down, I’ve been in my head a lot, and I just was not, for the most part, in a space where I felt like I had to keep up my fitness regimen. And that’s okay. I put my mental wellbeing ahead of making sure my body is socially acceptable. Sue me.”

I really appreciate her honesty.

Summer never goes beyond surface level in interviews, so seeing her this vulnerable is really surprising.

Are we supposed to feel bad for her? She’s rich. She can afford whatever help she needed.

These comments are not passing the vibe check.

Ya’ll are all mental health advocates, but when a black woman is opening up about her struggle, it’s discarded?

“And let me make this clear too, I have an amazing husband who is so patient and so kind. He’s one of the best people I can go to when my anxiety hits, so I don’t want this to come across as me complaining that I’ve been alone. I have him and our children. I just miss the rest of my family. That’s all.” She dried her eyes and started to read the comments, unsurprised by the mixed reaction. She expected as such and was unaffected. At least until she saw one comment.

@ChrisEvans: ❤️❤️❤️

“Evans!” Summer wasn’t expecting to see his name pop up. It’d been such a task convincing him to join IG, let alone teaching him how to operate it. “Let’s go live.”

Not my husband and wife in my head about to go live!!!!

Imagine being able to call Chris Evans your best friend

I still say they smashed idc

It’s Christopher Jamal Evans hopping on this live for me.

^^^ I’m so sick of y’all with that shit.

“Let me try to add him,” Summer spoke to herself, scrolling through the comments to find his so she could request him. “Alright, I requested him. Let’s see if he answers.”

She wondered if she should have sent him a text asking if he was available when he appeared on her screen, effectively splitting it with her on the top and him on the bottom.

“Punk.”

“Kid.”

Summer smiled and greeted, “Hi, best friend.”

He chuckled. “How you doing, Summer?”

“Clearly not as good as the people watching,” she chimed. Summer saw nothing but heart eyes and hearts in the comments. “These people really love you. You truly are a manipulative bastard. He’s an asshole, guys.”

“Don’t be jealous, Summer. It’s so unbecoming of you.”

“You can go to hell.”

“Language,” he playfully reprimanded. “Where are the kids?”

“At preschool. Things are finally starting to open back up over here. Thank God.” She clasped her hands together. “Y’all, please wear masks. Don’t be Karen’s.”

Chris laughed, grabbing his chest. “We’re getting there, Summer.”

“The lies you tell,” she countered. “Don’t A Starting Point, me. Ya’ll are far from getting there, and I’m tired of it. I wanna see my family.”

He sighed. “I know, but how are you feeling today?”

“I got rid of the kids, so that’s definitely a weight lifted,” she answered honestly, laughing when she saw judgmental comments in the chat. “Listen, if you’re a parent, you know where I’m coming from. You love your kids, but my god, sometimes you just need some space.”

“As soon as this all blows over, I told you to send em’ by me for a couple of weeks.”

“Best friend, I already purchased their tickets.” He laughed. “As soon as I get the green light, they are all yours. Feel free to keep them.”

“You guys see how she is?” He pointed to Summer, leaning and squinting to read what was being said. “I do love kids, especially the twins, they’re amazing.”

“He is really really great with them, guys,” Summer added. “One thing about Evans, he’s patient as hell and really, just a big kid. Why do you think him and Christopher get along so well? 40 going on 4.”

“I resent that.”

“Is it a lie though?”

He hesitated. “No.” They both laughed.

I’m loving the dynamic between these two so much.

Is it just me or are they flirting with each other…..

Ain’t nothing inappropriate about this conversation. Ya’ll are reaching…

Ya’ll remember that blind item that came out years ago alleging Chris (Evans) was the biological father of the twins? Hmm…..

^^^^^This kind of bullshit is the reason we’re in a global pandemic.

As always, Summer and Evans ignored any foolery that was being dropped in the comments when she caught a comment that didn’t contain some ridiculous rumor.

“Yes, it is true that Evans and Christopher weren’t allowed to do press together anymore. Ya’ll, they literally could not stay serious for more than a minute. I felt so bad for the poor interviewers.”

“Hey, we were not that bad,” Evans protested, his Boston accent more prominent.

She gasped. “You guys were terrible, Evans, and you know it. I was so mad when they put me with ya’ll those few times. I could barely hear the interviewers over your laughing and stupid commentary that literally no one asked for.”

“We did not.”

“There’s deadass video proof, Evans.”

“Fake news.”

She opened her mouth but caught herself. “I was about to say something.”

He laughed and asked, “Do you remember how we all got drunk before the Infinity War premiere?”

“No, ya’ll got drunk. I was big and pregnant, remember?”

“No,” he dismissed. “You were drinking with us.”

“Evans, how was I drinking when I was pregnant?” She challenged and reminded. “I got drunk with ya’ll for the Endgame premiere, not Infinity War.”

“That’s right,” he remembered and chuckled. “You think we’ll get in trouble for saying this?”

She shrugged with one shoulder. “You’re dead, Christopher never gets in trouble for anything, and I do what I want. I think we’re good.”

Kevin Feige watching this live right now like 🥴🥴🥴🥴

I never realized how arrogant she is……

LMAO. Not the whole cast showing up drunk to the biggest premiere of their lives.

Chris Evans is too damn fine to be approaching 40 and still single.

Their friendship is so goals omg

@ChrisHemsworth: Snitches

Summer’s jaw dropped as she caught the last comment, swiping up to click the name and make sure that she was reading correctly. “Christopher, what the hell are you doing on my live?”

Evans brows furrowed. “Hemmy is here? Shouldn’t he be working?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Summer supplied. “And how long have you been watching?”

@ChrisHemsworth: Long enough.

She smiled nervously and looked off to the side. “I feel weird now. I don’t like when he watches my lives.”

“Aren’t you guys married?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be shutting the fuck up?”

Evans lifted his hands in a defensive manner. “Touchy subject, I see.” They shared another laugh as he cleared his throat. “Why don’t you add him now? I’m supposed to be helping Scott cook.”

“My favorite Evans,” she gushed and furrowed her brows. “You, cooking? Since when?”

“Get out of here.” He waved her off and reminded. “I’m not the one who constantly causes near fires when in the kitchen.”

“So, you really just putting all my business out there like that?”

“Summer, it’s not secret to anyone that you can’t cook for shit.”

“Wow, it really be your own best friends.”

He chuckled. “Love you, kid.”

“Love you too, punk,” she blew a kiss. “I’ll text ya’ later.”

“Alright.” He smiled for the camera. “Thanks for having me everyone.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said jokingly. Evans and Summer said goodbye one last time before he left the live. She blew out a breath and ran her hand through her hair. “Baby, comment something so I can add you. It’s too many comments to wade through.”

Summer adjusted her phone and checked the time on the clock on the wall. It’d been a while since the kids were away at school, and she didn’t want to get so caught up that she was late picking them up.

@ChrisHemsworth: I can’t. I’m too drunk.

Summer released a mixture of a laugh and a snort reading his comment. “You are so damn petty.” She clicked his name and adjusted her outfit while waiting for him to answer. She almost cursed when it seemed like he wasn’t going to join, only for her to smile when his face appeared on her screen.

“Hi,” she greeted in a soft voice with a small smile.

“Hello, Sandcastle.”

“Did you just—I swear to god, it’s always something with you.” Summer rubbed her temples and shook her head. Christopher smiled in response. “Why aren’t you working?”

“I am.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re working, how are you talking to me?” She asked, sassily.

“Umm, a little thing called multitasking, ever heard of it?”

“Wow. You are an asshole.”

“That’s mean.”

“You’re mean.”

“Christopher, you are literally a child.”

“Does a child have muscles like this?” He flexed, and Summer stilled. Christopher stayed in ridiculous shape, but this was another level. He’d never been this massive, and she wasn’t too proud to admit that. Just not aloud.

She faked a yawn. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

They really just be roasting each other all the time, and I’m here for it.

Summer must be legally blind because this man is stupid fine tf

It’s gotta be steroids. That’s not natural.

^^^^^He’s the god of thunder.

Summer rolled her eyes at the typical nature of the comments. These were the reasons she limited her time on social media and especially stayed away from reading the comments. Her attention was redirected to the top of her phone. It was a text from Christopher asking her to call him.

“But we’re—oh, I get it.” She realized he wanted to talk to her, not her and her tens of millions of followers. “Alright, guys, I’m gonna get off here so I can talk to my husband, alone.”

“She just doesn’t want to share me with you all, that’s all.”

“Don’t even start, Christopher,” she lectured while he laughed and got serious, for a minute tops.

“Hope you all are taking care and staying safe,” he spoke honestly. “And we’ll talk to you soon.”

Summer waved and smile. “Bye, guys. Remember to be kind.” Summer offered a final smile before ending the live. Closing up the app, she moved to open FaceTime and called up Christopher. He answered almost immediately. “You know I hate when you watch my Lives. Now, how much did you see?”

“Enough to know you’re coming to see me tonight.”

She laughed aloud. “Funny.”

“I’m serious, Summer.” Focusing on him, she realized that there was no humor in his voice nor his expression. Summer also noticed that he didn’t have the Thor wig on yet, which was probably why he was able to go live with her. He was waiting to get into hair and makeup. “Leave the kids with Liam. It’s not like he’s doing anything.”

“Christopher!”

“What? Is he not a professional unemployed bastard.”

Summer’s smile remained as she shook her head. “You are so mean.”

“I’ll handle the flight arrangements. You, my beautiful wife, just make sure you get on the jet so I can handle you.”

“Christopher, you’re working. People with everyday jobs don’t just up and show up to their spouses workplace because they miss them or need a break from the kids. That’s how folks get fired.”

Christopher started to move around, walking somewhere, she realized. “What are you doing?”

“Hey, Tike.”

Summer’s eyes widened slightly. “Christoper!”

“Sup, man?” Taika asked casually, as Summer laughed again. Taika Waititi was such a character.

“You mind if Summer comes up for a few days?”

“Sure, man,” he replied almost right away. “Bring the kids and chickens too.”

“I am not bringing those damn chickens,” she immediately protested.

Christopher made a sound. “Ha, so you are coming!”

“I didn’t say that.”

Taika joined Christopher so that he was in camera. “Hey, Summer, why don’t you come on join? You can have a cameo. Chickens, too.”

She rubbed her temples. Taika’s and Chris’s friendship would never not make sense to her. They were cut from the same cloth. “One, hey. Two, I was already in Ragnarok. I’m good on the cameos. Three, what is with ya’ll and those creepy looking chickens?”

“Whoa, creepy? What did the chickens ever do?”

“Exist,” Summer answered dryly. She still hadn’t forgiven Evans and Christopher for convincing her to let the kids keep those damn things. Her home was becoming more and more of a farm with each animal that joined the household.

“Tough crowd, that one, ehh?”

“Always,” Christopher agreed.

“I can hear you both,” she reminded and groaned loudly. Summer would love to spend a few days away from the kids. Chris would be working, yes, but she’d at least get some time for herself. Even better, alone adult time with her husband. That had also been a bit tricky during quarantine because of her rambunctious twins. Still, she disliked using her status as a celebrity to gain things, and this would definitely be a case of using status for pull. “I don’t know….”

Deep in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized that Chris had walked away and returned to wherever he was prior to finding Taika, most likely his trailer.

“What if you only stayed a night?” Chris tried to bargain. “The flight is only an hour and a half. That will give you more than enough time to come here, let me fix you dinner, run you a nice bath, maybe get in the good ole’ horizontal tango—”

“You know I hate when you call it that,” she reminded quietly, admitting. “That does sound nice, though.”

“Or, I can come to you—“

“Absolutely not. Christopher, you’re already doing so much back and forth as it is.” One of the good things to come out of quarantine, to Summer at least, was that it forced many people to take a much needed break. Her husband was one of those people. Christopher had been working nonstop since she met him. Project after project, film after film, many of them Marvel films, which put a whole other layer of difficulty what with the strenuous physical requirements. Even now as he shot Thor 4, he was in the best shape he’d ever been, muscles nearly tearing the cotton of his clothes. He looked amazing, but it was what they couldn’t see that she was starting to grow a little concerned over. Christopher wasn’t as young as he once was. He had to slow down, eventually.

Summer realized this would be a perfect chance to have a conversation about just that with him, which all but led her to her final decision.

“Alright,” she conceded, finger up as she made her demands. “Three days, and I stay at the house while you shoot. We may be returning to normal, but we’re still in a pandemic. I won’t go around anyone except you.”

“So I get you all to myself? Hardly consider that a stipulation.”

“And…we talk.”

“After the horizontal tango—“

“I swear to God, if you don’t stop calling it that—“

“What was that, sweetheart? I wasn’t listening.” She saw that he had paused the screen, causing Summer to remember that she hadn’t even consulted with the babysitter. “Making flight arrangements for you.”

“Shit, let me text Liam and make sure he’s available.”

“He gets reception in the box?”

“Christopher! For the last time, your brother is not living in a box.”

“Do you know that for certain?”

“Goodbye, Christopher,” she prepared to end the call before smiling softly. “I love you, Christopher, and thank you.”

He winked. “I’ll always do anything for you, Summer. Anything.” A beat. “Don’t forget to leave the clothes. You won’t need them.”

“Christopher!”