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jeonqkooks · 2 years ago

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our beloved summer | jjk (06)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, kissing (omg k1ss1ng omg WHO IS IT ??? 😦), tbh this is the only warning i wanted u guys to read cuz 6 chapters in and we finally get sum action i feel like that's a win lmaooooo, jimin being Real as fook, unbeta'd cuz uhm i'm a godless menace who should be conked on the head, once again we are severely lacking jk in his own fic lol i'm owning up to this 🤗 BUT! this is probably the last chapter where jk feels like a side character lol apologies my dudes

rating: PG-13

word count: 8.1k (honestly i wrote obs6 just so i could get to obs7 lmao that's why it's a lil bit shorter)

note: my apologies if this sucks. you are legally allowed to stone me if you hate it. but i hope you don't hate it. but if you do hate it don't tell me just stone me lol 🤐 why am i so unhinged with this update

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I can see you starin', honey Like he's just your understudy Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

Exile - Taylor Swift (ft. Bon Iver)

The picture is fucking terrible.

“Jimin, what the fuck,” you grumble, staring at the huge framed photo on the wall, taken on the day of the opening party. You, Taehyung and Jimin are gathered on the floor of the dance studio, with boxes of takeout neatly sitting between the three of you. “I look like ass.”

Jimin barely glances at the wall, just continues to stuff his face with the dumplings that you ordered. “You look fine,” he says absentmindedly, mouth full, continuing to munch on the food despite your little dilemma.

“Bitch, I have my eyes closed.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I look like I’m in the middle of a sneeze.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, squinting at your photographed self again. The more you look at it, the more irritated you become.

Realistically, you know nobody would pay enough attention to notice the immortalized visual of your fluttering eyes, and you yourself wouldn’t care about it that much. Maybe you would even laugh in good spirits and poke fun at yourself as you often do. Make a meme of it for the group chat.

“What’s the big deal?” Jimin asks.

You shrug petulantly. “I told you. I look like ass.”

Yeah, true, but it’s also more than that.

It’s the fact that the person standing next to you looks so good that you must voice your grievances. It’s the fact that he looks so much more than just good.

The guys stop eating to look at you. You wonder just how much of what you’re feeling is written all over your face. Regardless, they don’t comment on it.

One of them clears his throat, shaking the whole thing off.

“Did you tell Yoongi anything yet?” Jimin asks.

You poke at a lone dumpling with your chopsticks, popping the ‘p’ when you say, “Nope.”

“Damn, Y/N,” Jimin scolds you. “It’s been three weeks. He doesn’t want to push you for an answer but the man has got to be suffering.”

You flick a piece of spring onion garnish at him. It lands on his hair, a single bit of green sitting among golden locks. “I don’t know what to tell him!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Jimin shakes the onion piece from his head and chucks it back at you. “Obviously you say yes!”

You exhale through your nose, then take a bite of your dumpling. You nibble on the fried dough, stretching out the silence, delaying your response.

It hasn’t even started, and it might not even start. But you’re already thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Yoong is your friend, first and foremost. He’s a good friend, and you would be crushed if you lose that relationship.

What if he hurts you, or you hurt him?

Sometimes, people are meant to hurt each other even if they don’t mean to.

Yoongi hasn’t seen your pieces in all of their jagged glory, how they’re only meant to reflect the light but never be healed by it. He’s still blissfully unaware of the ugly thoughts that have a home inside your head, and you’re afraid if you let him in, he’d realize it’s a place he doesn’t want to be. It’s hard to love a broken thing. You wouldn’t want to love you either.

Maybe this is the real reason that’s been holding you back all this time. Maybe it isn’t Jungkook - though he certainly isn’t absolved - but it’s you, and how you just don’t know if you’re someone who deserves to love and be loved. You’ve felt inadequate more times than you can count. You’ve been left before. Who’s to say it isn’t going to happen again?

You’re well aware that this is a bad way to look at things, but can anyone really blame you? You still have a heart, and despite how fragmented it is, you still want to protect it.

“I know that look,” Taehyung says, parting your fog and pulling you back to him. “You’re overthinking again.”

You roll your eyes. He knows you so well, but does he have to call you out every time?

“I’m not overthinking. I’m regular thinking.”

“Right. And to normal people, that’s overthinking.”

“It’s just…” you wonder out loud, gaze on the floor. “What if I go all in, and Yoongi sees me for who I am and thinks that I’m just an utterly sad person who can’t be loved? That I’m too much work when he’s got literally thousands of people throwing themselves at him left and right?”

Taehyung stares at the side of your face as he bites the inside of his cheek. His tongue soothes the spot, his jaw clenching once. “He’s not going to think that.”

“You don’t know that,” you say, the corners of your mouth tugging down.

“You’re not unlovable just because one person didn’t love you right. So stop it with that bullshit, because I love you,” he says, voice serious. Even Jimin stays silent as he listens to his friend, his eyes flickering between you and Taehyung. “And Jimin loves you. Hobi loves you.”

You merely blink, because you hate it when he’s right. In all fairness, you understand. This is the same thing you would tell him if the situation were reversed.

You deflect anyway. That’s what you do best.

“You don’t count,” you tell him with an unserious scoff, your tone starkly contrasting his. “You’re my family.”

You taste something bitter as soon as the words leave your mouth. You should know better than anyone, that just because someone’s your family, doesn’t mean they have to love you.

Taehyung reenacts the blinking guy meme before chuckling, holding a hand over his chest like you’ve just wounded him. “Ouch.”

“You two are getting nowhere,” Jimin interjects. “Just call Yoongi.”

“And say what?” you ask.

“I told you. Say yes. God, you’re so dense sometimes.”

You reach over to jab a finger into his side, making him hiss and shuffle away from you.

“That wasn’t nice,” you grumble.

“Well, somebody’s gotta say it.” He gives you a look, eyebrows raised for a few seconds before he lowers them and grows more stern. “Come on, Y/N. You know you don’t want to say no, or else you would’ve turned him down already. You said you wanted to start dating again. Yoongi is practically on his knees offering himself to you. What are you waiting for?”

There’s a voice in the back of your head - tiny, barely audible - that whispers, Who are you waiting for?

“Fuck it, I’ll say it,” Jimin continues. “It sucks balls that Jungkook hurt you, but you can’t let that affect you for the rest of your life. Not everyone is going to hurt you. You’re not even giving Yoongi a chance just because someone else did you dirty. If you keep always thinking about the worst possible outcome and banking on it to happen, then you’re never going to get anywhere. I love you, dude, but y’know.”

You stare at Jimin with your mouth slightly open, stunned into silence. When you glance at Taehyung, he’s surprised too, though probably not as much as you.

After a couple of minutes, you say, “Wow.”

“Tough love. I have my moments.” Jimin shrugs casually, like he didn’t just drop a truth bomb on your head. “But also…” He picks his phone up and types something in. Your phone instantly buzzes with a notification.

“Open the link I just sent you,” he says.

“You are literally sitting across from me.”

“Just open it! I made you a playlist.”

“Aw, Jimin, that’s so cute,” you coo softly, reaching over to pinch his cheek before he swats your hand away. You unlock your phone to see what Jimin made you, because that is some friendship hall of fame stuff right there. However, when the link redirects you to your music app, your smile immediately drops.

Aaand he’s back.

You stare at the screen for a good ten seconds to try and find your bearings, flabbergasted at something that is quite honestly very on-brand for Jimin if you think about it. “You made me a playlist called Dick Appointment with an eggplant emoji and the tongue out emoji and it’s mostly just Yoongi’s songs. Even the playlist cover is from his Valentino shoot.”

“So you can get it on while Agust D plays in the background!” Jimin grins, and you could just smack it right off his face.

“Park Jimin, who raised you? You are vile.”

“Validate me,” he demands. Oh, you would smack him. You really would. “I spent hours making that playlist.”

“It’s literally just Yoongi’s songs.”

“Yeah, but I had to curate an experience. I can’t just dump every song into a playlist and call it a day. I gotta make sure they fit the vibe.”

“I literally just heard the most profound shit from you not even two minutes ago.” Then, you turn to Taehyung with an exasperated look on your face. “Why would you let him do this?”

He just waves a dismissive hand in the air, like Jimin isn’t even there. “I’m not responsible for the stupid shit he does.”

Jimin crosses his arms in front of his chest, both eyebrows raised dramatically as he gapes at you. “You both suck. From now on, you can make your own sexytime playlists.”

“Nobody even asked you to do that!” you cry.

“Yeah! Which makes me an even more considerate friend,” he says. “Ugh. Whatever. Go call Yoongi.”

“You want me to do it now?”

“Yes. Because I know you’ll wuss out when you’re alone. You can stay and put him on speakers for us to hear or you can go out into the hallway. Come on, chop chop.”

“No, I have to text him first,” you protest. “What if he’s busy?”

Jimin narrows his eyes at you suspiciously, but allows you this after a moment. “Fine.”

You take out your phone from your bag that’s lying carelessly on the floor to draft a quick message to Yoongi.

[12:59] You: got a minute?

The three of you go back to the food, abandoning the previous topic of conversation in favor of something lighter and meaningless or else you would go crazy waiting for Yoongi’s reply. After you’re finished, you and Taehyung are in the middle of putting away all the empty containers and soda cans when your phone buzzes again.

You go to grab it to look at the notification, hands already starting to sweat.

[13:17] Yoongi: for you? always :)

You turn back to the guys to find them already looking at you. Jimin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively while Taehyung just stares at you.

“Time to get your whore on,” Jimin says in an exaggeratedly sultry voice.

You turn to Taehyung for help. “He’s bullying me.”

“Ignore him,” your best friend tells you gently. “Go call Yoongi.”

When you take your phone out into the hallway, you make sure to go to the far end of it, near the main entrance so the two dorks can’t eavesdrop. You’ll tell them everything once you come back anyway, but you don’t want them within earshot while you’re in the middle of it.

Yoongi picks up your call on the third ring. In the background, your ear picks up on some chatter.

“Hey, princess,” he greets you. Then he holds the phone away from his ear to tell someone that he’d be back in a bit.

“Hey,” you say. “Where are you?”

“Just at a fitting. I have an ad campaign to film next week,” he answers. “Did you call just to get my whereabouts?”

“No, I… If you’re busy, we can talk later.”

“We’re still in the middle of lunch break anyway. What did you want to talk about?”

You briefly regret not taking a minute to psych yourself up before. You suck in a deep breath, which eases your nerves for just a second, long enough for you to say, “Yes.”

You’re met with brief silence from the other end of the line, which only makes your palms more clammy than they already are.

“Yes?” he echoes confusedly. “Yes what?”

“Yes,” you say again. “To…”

The silence commences once more, and lasts longer than you think you can handle. Then, you hear him stop in the middle of a breath.

“Oh.” A subsequent chuckle in response to the lightbulb that must’ve been switched on. “To that?”

“...Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

It feels like you two have invented a secret language that nobody else could understand. A single syllable, bouncing off the metaphorical walls of your conversation. Two idiots sharing the same brain cell.

“Yes?” he continues to prod, but at this point, you know he’s just teasing you.

“Yes! God, stop making me say it again. We sound so stupid.”

He graces you with a hearty laugh that makes you fight back a sheepish smile, even though there isn’t a single soul in sight to witness it. Yoongi makes you so fucking shy for some reason. Your nerves dissolve momentarily as you lean against the wall, your index finger running along a crack in the paint.

“Hmm, I wish you would’ve told me this in person,” he says, his voice soft.

“I can’t handle you in person. You’d tease me so much.”

“Because you’re adorable when you’re flustered, that’s why.” He waits a second before adding, “You’re blushing right now, aren’t you?”

“You’re being overly confident, Min.”

“Maybe,” he responds easily. “But am I right, though?”

“Shut up.”

When Yoongi said he would cook for you, you almost gasped.

“You can cook?” you had asked. It wasn’t an earth-shattering revelation or anything, but you suppose you’d never given much thought to the hidden sides of him.

“Y/N,” he laughed then. “I’m a great cook. I could probably make a pretty decent career out of being a chef.”

“I didn’t know that,” you told him sheepishly.

“There’s a lot of things you still need to know about me.” It sounded like a promise. Like I’m willing to show you me. Like I’m willing to take the first step if you’d be in this with me too. “Does that sound like a good idea? You, me, dinner at your place?”

“My place?”

“Yeah, so you’ll be more comfortable. I’ll come over.”

This one simple gesture shouldn’t affect you that much, but it does. You appreciate that he’s considerate even when it comes to the littlest things. You swell with gratitude for the thought he puts into this, into putting your comfort first. It made you feel a bit better about yourself, calmed your stormy sea of thoughts enough to rationally accept the fact that he genuinely cares.

Regardless, it doesn’t stop you from spending most of the day obsessively cleaning your apartment. Even - and especially - your bedroom, although you’re sure that is not where the night will end. Every surface is spotless, not a single speck of dust to be found. It’s like the goddamn Pope is coming over for a house inspection.

You haven’t had a first date in… fuck, how long has it been now? Nine years? It’s almost been a fucking decade already? You honestly can’t tell if that’s embarrassing or not.

But you remember the last time.

College, freshman year, with Jungkook. His yellow piece of sticky note that he slipped inside your favorite book. His adorably flustered expression when he timidly stood in front of you in the campus library. The way he was trying so hard to be confident and charming throughout your first dinner together. How he ran back to you after saying goodnight.

No.

You shut your eyes and shake your head, warding off any Jungkook-related thoughts before they could send you spiraling. You can’t reminisce about your ex while waiting for someone else to show. Yoongi deserves better, and that’s what you’re trying to be.

You’re not exactly sure how nice you should dress tonight. Yoongi told you that you could be clad in sweats for all he cares. If the dinner didn’t hold any connotation other than platonic, maybe you would’ve really donned your loungewear like you were merely having Taehyung and Jimin over for pizza.

You’d completely forgotten all the things people worry about in the early stages of dating, when you want to impress the other person but don’t want them to think that you’re trying too hard.

Calm down. It’s just Yoongi. He’s seen you ugly crying with mascara running down your face, for fuck’s sake.

In the end, you opt for a sweater and a comfortable skirt. Casual.

Yoongi rings your doorbell about ten minutes later than when he said he’d be there, holding a bag full of groceries. The visual alone makes you bite back a giggle and subsequently fail. You believe this is what people would call husband material.

You take his coat and guide him into your home. “Welcome to my humble abode,” you say shyly, gesturing around as you lead him into the kitchen to show him where everything is. Why are you acting like this? This isn’t you. If Taehyung or Jimin could see you right now, they would probably laugh. Hoseok would straight up be rolling on the floor.

You barely breathe as you watch Yoongi take in his surroundings. It’s intimidating, even though you know it’s just Yoongi.

“I actually don’t know what I expected, but I like it. It’s very you,” he comments, smiling.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that it’s cute,” he says, throwing you a wink as he leans against your kitchen counter.

You avert your gaze immediately. “Oh… Thanks,” you reply, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “So, uhm, what are you making? How can I help?”

“Just sit down. I got this.”

“Yoongi,” you say his name in protest. “I want to h-”

“I’m trying to romance you here. Let me do that,” Yoongi says, his smile turning lopsided as he starts emptying the contents of his grocery bags. Even though his tone is light, the gentle reminder of tonight being a date shuts you right up.

You take a seat at your dining table, though you can’t really sit still. As Yoongi starts working, you absentmindedly talk to each other about your day, about his campaign, about Seokjin’s album. At one point, you get up to creep over to his side when the smell of whatever he’s making becomes more prominent. You try to peek at the pot, curious, but he just shoos you away by bumping his hip against yours.

When you give him a small pout, you pretend not to notice the way his eyes dart to your mouth. You retract yourself from his personal space, choosing a spot on the other side of your kitchen island, staring at his back as he works.

You watch him expertly navigate your kitchen like he’s been here before. When he’s finished, he makes you sit down, not even letting you help bring the food to the table.

“What is it?” you ask once he’s settled in his seat, everything plated in front of you.

“Kimchi jjigae,” he says, a proud look on his face. “My mom’s recipe.”

It’s endearing, and it makes you smile.

For the most part, Yoongi lets you eat in peace, though there’s still a couple of flirtatious comments here and there. Every time it comes, you bite down on your bottom lip to try and snap out of that daze before you cough, as if that would help tone down the colors adorning your face. There’s no verbal response from you, and it seems like Yoongi doesn’t expect one either, because he just chuckles. You think he must notice the palpable nervousness that radiates off of you, but it’s not like you’re doing a very good job at hiding it.

You’re taking baby steps and he knows it. The fact that you even agreed to this at all is already major progress.

When you’re done eating, he clears the table while he asks you to open the expensive bottle of wine that he brought over. It does wonders for your nerves.

Three glasses in and you’re visibly more relaxed as you both sit on the couch in the living room, facing each other. There’s a small smile on your face that you can’t help, maybe it’s some of your inhibitions wearing off as a side effect of the alcohol.

You glance around the room, and you take in the sight of Yoongi sitting here, this close to you. He feels bigger than your small world can handle.

“You know,” you start. If the wine didn’t make you more mellow, you probably wouldn’t be saying this. “There are thousands of people thirsting over you every day.”

Yoongi tilts his head, swirling the wine in his glass. “Really?”

“Don’t you look at the internet? I personally know two girls from college who are on the Yoongi Marry Me train,” you say matter-of-factly, like you aren’t borderline tipsy in front of him.

You aren’t an avid Twitter user, but every time you check the damn bird app, Yoongi is almost always trending. In every single one of his posts on social media, there is always an influx of comments asking him to marry them. Not only that, when word first got out about you collaborating with Agust D back then, people you knew - both old friends and acquaintances - practically bombarded your messages to see if it was true, and to ask if you could get them an autograph.

Yoongi stretches out his legs until they brush against yours. Your stomach flips even though it’s only your legs that are barely touching.

“The what train?”

“You seriously don’t know about the Yoongi Marry Me movement? Look it up. It’s a whole thing. People would do anything to, I don’t know, hold your hand or something.”

With an amused look on his face, he holds your gaze. “Would you?”

“What?”

“Would you do all of that just to hold my hand? Because you don’t have to, y’know.” He brings the wine glass to his lips, partially hiding his face from you, and you don’t know whether he’s doing it for your sake or his in preparation for the words he speaks next. “But I would do it to hold yours.”

You’re sure that your cheeks are burning bright, your stomach twisted in knots. It’s the wine, but it’s definitely the effect of his words too. You stare at Yoongi in surprise; no matter how many times he openly flirts with you, he’d still elicit the same reaction from you. It’ll be hard to get used to it. He just always seems to know what to say to make you blush like a schoolgirl, which you resent but you can’t deny the sparks of excitement that make your fingertips tingle.

Yoongi is smooth, and it’s even worse - or is it better? You haven’t decided yet - that you know he means every word he says. It makes you feel… wanted. It’s good to know that he’s being genuine, and to know that Yoongi isn’t the type of person who would ever pull the rug out from under you.

Yoongi is… stable.

You suppose, after everything you’ve been through, that stability is what you need. It’s good for you.

You try to swerve around the thoughts, to avoid them at all costs, but deep down you know now that they’re glaringly true.

That love is stored in two bags of groceries, so filled to the brim that some onions almost fall out. Love is stored in every flick of his wrist holding a knife, slicing the sharp blade across your cutboard. Clean cuts, yet he’s never this way when it comes to you.

Love is stored in a fond smile and adoring eyes when he sees how you cradle your expensive dishware like it’s a newborn baby before you set it carefully on the table.

Love is stored in a Yoongi-shaped silhouette, dancing over your countertops with practiced precision in every movement, filling in the cracks of your home. The love in him is reserved because you, like the moon when it crescents, still have a ways to go.

When he stands at your door an hour later with his coat in hand, you wait for him to speak first.

“Performance review?” he asks. “How did I do?”

“I… liked it. It was nice,” you say honestly. But you still feel the wine in your system, and it makes you bold enough to tease him for a change. “But it was my first date in a while, so it’s hard to tell if that opinion is objective.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Do I qualify for a second date then?”

You hum in thought, making him wait on purpose. “Yeah, I guess,” you say, feigning nonchalance, which earns you a hearty laugh.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asks, hopeful.

“Don’t know yet,” you answer, though you’ll probably end up going home and catching up on a kdrama. “Are you coming in tomorrow?”

“Just in the morning. I have a shoot in the afternoon.” He shifts to lean his weight on his other leg, tipping his body closer to you. “But I can pick you up after.”

“Yeah? And where would we go?”

Yoongi shrugs in earnest. “Just drive around? Grab a bite?” he thinks out loud, tilting his head slightly to one side for emphasis. “I could take you to that popup store you mentioned.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “You would stand in line with me to buy a novelty mug?”

“Pretty sure we wouldn’t have to stand in line if I gave them a call,” he says, grinning. “One of the perks of the job, y’know.”

“Must be nice,” you laugh, then shift to lean just a tad closer to him. You look at him for a brief moment before you agree, “Yeah, okay.”

You and Yoongi stand there at the door, each of you on either side of the threshold. This would be an appropriate moment for a kiss, you think. That explosive first kiss, if this were a movie. Exhilaration courses through your veins. You feel it from your head to the tips of your fingers to your toes. The feeling is rendering you a mere teenager again.

It’s exciting because it’s new. You have the entire book ahead of you, waiting to be written. At this point, anything could happen. You’re a blank canvas waiting to be drawn, a blank page hoping to be written.

Wait.

Back up.

A kiss?

A kiss?!

With Yoongi?

You’re thinking about kissing Yoongi?!

Fuck.

Fuck?!

It’s the wine.

Your thoughts knock against each other like bumper cars, echoing loudly in your brain that it almost gives you a headache.

You stay still as Yoongi leans down, your heart racing while your brain just keyboard-smashes. You can’t tell if you want him to kiss you or not, but when he only presses his lips against your cheek, you feel two emotions at once.

The first is disappointment, the second is relief. They press down on you with almost equal force, and you’re not really sure which one weighs heavier.

Baby steps.

You blink when he pulls away, and he just smiles fondly at you as if he can read your mind.

“Goodnight, princess.”

You watch him until he’s in the elevator, until the doors close and the lift descends. Even when you know that he must be on his way to his car and that someone else is making their way up, you stand there, with your hand loosely wrapped around the door handle, your breathing slightly erratic as you process what just happened.

Déjà vu?

It’s oddly reminiscent.

You’ve been here before.

Part of you thinks he’ll burst through the elevator doors, or rush up the stairs if the lift is occupied, and come back to grab your face and kiss you senseless.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook knows you’re probably waiting for Yoongi.

He’s seen Yoongi pick you up after work almost daily over the past couple of weeks, and it’s driving him insane. Even on the days that Yoongi comes to the studio during the day, the guy is all over you, so much so that he doesn’t even bother being a nuisance to Jungkook anymore, which just makes him a thousand times more insufferable.

Something is happening.

He can’t weasel shit out of Jimin anymore because Jimin has been especially tight-lipped after accidentally spilling Yoongi’s confession to you.

Because that should be him in Yoongi’s place. Or should he say his place, and Yoongi is just a placeholder. An imposter.

Because it used to be him that you smiled shyly at.

Jimin’s words have been plaguing his every waking hour since he was forced to hear them. If she wants to choose Yoongi, let her do that too. It feels like he’s rewinding all of your memories, retracing them with cautious fingers only to find that his every footstep is being erased to make room for someone else.

An abandoned dirt road, while you walk down a flower-filled path holding someone else’s hand.

Like you’re stamping him out.

Like he was never there at all.

Not only are you denying him a chance, you’re giving it to someone else. When he tries to move at someone else’s pace, all he gets is left behind.

It’s not about Yoongi; or at least, it’s not just about him. Yoongi doesn’t even really matter to Jungkook in this equation. It’s about what Yoongi represents. An idea of a person that Jungkook can never be.

A bigger life. A stable present and an even brighter future. Yoongi is everything better than him.

And that’s his own problem to deal with, not anyone else’s. At the end of the day, no one has to live with his insecurities but himself.

But still, he can’t help it. Whenever he sees you with Yoongi, his eyes burn. Please don’t let him take my place, he wishes every time, you’re the only good thing about me.

It’s jealousy, sure, of course it’s there.

But what if you realize what everyone else already knows? That Yoongi is better in every single way. That Yoongi is the person who really deserves you.

What if you start to see Jungkook the way he sees himself?

You hating him - despising him with every cell in your body - is a thousand times better than you deeming him unworthy.

“I talked to Jihyo,” he speaks up suddenly, when it’s only the two of you.

“Okay,” you answer, never taking your eyes off the page in front of you. You must have circled the words daisy a thousand times already, wracking your brain for anything that rhymes. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this, but good for you.”

At this point, you wonder if you should just avoid the studio for the time being. It’s empty here again. You resent Seokjin for drowning in concept photos. You resent Namjoon for leaving Jungkook here to fend for himself, but it’s only fair, because Namjoon was only supposed to give him a helping hand, not take over the whole thing. You even resent Yoongi a bit, for not being here right this second.

“I talked to her,” Jungkook says again, ignoring your sass. “She won’t give you a hard time anymore.”

This makes you look at him. You never asked him to do this. You never asked him to do anything. In fact, you have only ever implored him to sit still and leave things alone.

“She never gave me a hard time,” you say. Sure, you don’t appreciate being given the death glare first thing in the morning, but it’s not something that you can’t ignore. It doesn’t actively affect you, and the only reason Jihyo does it is because of Jungkook.

Because he broke things off with her?

Because he gives you more attention?

Ugh. Attention?

This is the stupidest and most childish thing you have had to think about in ages.

“You said she acts differently toward you.”

“And aren’t you the reason why?” you counter. “Because you two were fucking?”

Jungkook visibly winces at your words, like he did when you mentioned it the first time in the break room. You don’t mean to be snarky; you’re just stating the facts. They were hooking up.

You don’t harbor any ill will toward any of his past lovers, and that includes Jihyo. You know she doesn’t have anything against you either, at least not on a personal level because you don’t know each other well enough to do so. She’s just someone you pass by every day on your way to the elevator.

“So why did things end?” you ask just for the sake of it, since he was the one who brought it up. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious.

He hesitates for a moment. “She wanted something more and it wasn’t the same for me.”

It’s stupid that the tiny voice in the back of your head resurfaces, hoping that you were the reason why he couldn’t pursue things with another woman.

Jihyo isn’t you, that much is clear. You never asked for anything more from him, not once from start to finish. He was always the first one to pour love into you. It’s arguable which one of you loved the other more - maybe you loved each other equally, just in different ways - but it was a fact that Jungkook always took the initiative. He made the first move so you wouldn’t have to. He gave you the option to match his affection, and never have to worry about being left out to dry.

He took initiative, right until the very end.

You bite your bottom lip, then give him a curt response, “Okay.”

Your phone vibrates with a text from Yoongi but you don’t open it just yet. You look at Jungkook, who only looks back at you. His lips part slightly as he searches for the right words, or any word at all. It’s like you’re asking him to navigate a minefield when all he has to do is be honest. Even if he told you that he fell out of love with you, it wouldn’t be that bad. You would be hurt, yes, but you wouldn’t blame him. You would understand. It would be a reason.

Silence fills the room, save for the continuous tapping of your pen on paper.

He says your name, pleading. “I’m trying here.”

At Jimin’s party, Jungkook said you were someone important to him. You don’t doubt that he meant it, and that’s what infuriates you the most. You’re important, but he keeps running circles around you and making your head spin. You’re important, but everything he’s done makes you think that you’re the opposite. You’re important, just not important enough to get an explanation.

You know he’s genuine about everything he says, but that’s not enough. You can’t sustain yourself on just his words alone.

It’s another cycle of the same conversation, running over and over and over again. He’s reaching out but he’s holding back. You’re still getting nowhere. You don’t know how many times he has to make you ask this, only to not give you any clarity at all.

If there is a trait of Jungkook’s that you both love and hate at the same time, it is that he doesn’t know when to quit.

He texts you every day even when you don’t reply - one for good morning, and one for goodnight. He gets you a chai latte every day, which doesn’t do shit for your concentration because there’s not enough caffeine in it. He gets the door for you whenever you go into the same room together. He hounds your every waking moment. He makes sure that he’s the first thing you see when you wake up, and the last thought that crosses your mind before you go to sleep.

I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.

You suppose this is him, showing up again. In a lot of ways, it’s selfish. But it’s an effort too. Now your phone is full of meaningless messages that remain unread.

You barely glance at him. It’s routine at this point. He tries in ways that you don’t bother acknowledging anymore, because you figured that the best course of action is to let him wear himself out. When he has had enough of it, when he deems his efforts to be enough to absolve his guilt, he’ll stop. He has to.

But at what point does it stop?

At what point will you stop wanting to give in to him? Your mind rages wars with itself every time you feel his eyes on you, and you have to kill the urge to not turn your head and look at him too. At what point will you stop wanting to go to him and let him in again? At what point will you stop unconsciously making him a priority?

All of this, you supposed, is to say: Do you still love him?

You know that if you sit down and get to the root of it, you’ll find an answer you don’t like. Even in this moment, you want him to tell you just a fraction of the truth, because that would probably be enough to reel you back in.

Your own heart claws at your chest but this is how it has to be for a while. All you can do is take it one day at a time, gently nudge your heart in one direction like a child that needs to be goaded, until he doesn’t live on the forefront of your mind anymore.

Until someone else does.

“No, you’re not.” You stand up then, closing your notebook with more force than necessary. “If you’re really trying, then I wouldn’t still be wondering why I wasn’t enough to make you stay.”

Even then, you’re still hoping that he’d say something else. But when you’re only met with silence, the anticipated disappointment in you bubbles, boiling. His reluctance to clue you in makes it easier for you to decide.

There's someone else who's willing to give you things that you don't even need to ask for.

In your mind, it's clear who you should choose.

Jungkook clenches his teeth, holding his breath as he watches you shove your things into your bag. “Are you going home?” he asks after a minute.

You could say yes and let the conversation die a swift and simple death. But for some reason, you choose to kill it violently. You bite the inside of your cheek before you tell him, “I don’t know. Yoongi’s picking me up.”

The chagrinned look that takes over his features for a split second is one that you immediately catch. Maybe it’s because he wants to make sure you know how he feels about this, or maybe you still have a way of reading him somehow. Regardless of what his face tells you, he doesn’t prod any further.

Your phone vibrates on the table, the sound ten times more thunderous amidst the silence that’s befallen the both of you. You don’t need to check the screen to know who’s calling, and neither does he. When you leave, the sound of your fading footsteps ricochets off the walls. It shoots right through him.

He hears every word of that conversation ringing in his ears then. He recalls that afternoon’s sunset; it was the most beautiful sunset he saw that year, despite the sun overhead mocking him with every magnificent glint of light. He sees the look on your face when his words finally register in your mind, the Oh moment when you understood what he was saying, when the smile you wore sunk helplessly to the floor because even though you knew that love had an expiration date, you hoped your love would be the exception.

That memory fades, only to be replaced by something much worse. He sits there with Jimin’s words, echoing in his mind, reverberating around the room.

Technically, you and Yoongi haven’t been on a second date. You think.

You’ve seen him almost every night since the dinner, when he picks you up at the studio. Sometimes, you two just drive around. Sometimes, you sit by the river in the cold, eating hot ramen cups and giggling over nothing. Sometimes, he just takes you straight to your home if he has a packed schedule the next day.

These days, you see Yoongi even more than you see Taehyung. Even though he hasn’t explicitly implied that any of these outings is a date, you know you aren’t hanging out as just friends anymore.

It feels good to be wanted. The feeling is reinforced tenfold because it’s been so long that it’s like you’re experiencing it for the first time in a new body, as a different person.

But even after all of that, you two can still go back to being friends like nothing ever happened. Because in a way, maybe nothing did happen. Maybe things have always been like this between you, the only difference is now you’re noticing the meaning behind his words and glances.

You two can still go back, because technically, no line has been crossed.

But tonight, something feels different. It’s colder, but Yoongi keeps you warm with all the looks he’s been giving you all night.

It feels like you’re both toeing that line right now.

You know that once you cross it, things can’t revert back to the way they were anymore.

You know that it will happen eventually, because Yoongi isn’t doing this just to half-ass it. He won’t back out, and he has made it crystal clear from the start.

Usually, this is the part where he tells you goodnight and you have to pretend not to freak out when he kisses you on the cheek in goodbye.

He takes a step closer, you take no step back.

“You know what I’m about to do, right?”

You do. You could say you’re even hopeful.

“I might have an idea…”

“Okay,” he says easily. He takes your waist in his hands and brings you closer. The way the corner of his mouth tugs upward tells you that he’s pleased, that you know what’s about to come and you’re letting it happen. Still, he asks, “Can I?”

You nod. That glowing sensation washes over you in waves.

“Words, princess,” he reminds you.

Your hands land on the lapel of his coat. “Yes, you can.”

He chuckles, and squeezes you a little tighter.

Then it happens.

The line you clumsily drew in the sand has been erased.

Yoongi is kissing you.

You’re kissing him back.

He’s soft and warm and he holds you like you’re delicate. His sincerity, you can feel it in his kiss, and it’s only a fraction of it. Regardless, there is still life that blooms this winter. Inside of you, small and fragile, but it’s there.

You sigh into his mouth, feeling completely limbless if not for him holding your body upright. One of his arms wounds itself tighter around your middle while his other hand tucks your hair behind your ear so he could cup your cheek more easily. Yoongi tilts his head further to one side to deepen the kiss. You feel something in his kiss that you have never heard in his words, something soft and pleading. Wanting but still contained. Out of fear that you might run away, perhaps? You can’t blame him though. You are a bit of a flight risk.

The wind dances past like a nosy bystander, pressing you further into him like it wants you to be more sure in the way you move, in how much of yourself you’re willing to give to him. Instead, the cold just makes you shiver.

When you break away, his hand on your face moves to hold the back of your head. Yoongi doesn’t look half as flushed as you think you do, though his cheeks are slightly rosy.

Through a thin veil of clouds, the moon still shines down on his profile.

The chill in the air, the mesmerizing view of moonlight dancing across his features, and most of all, the way you’re still lost in the kiss, in the feeling of being wanted.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you up,” he says, after you stay silent for a beat too long, hooded eyes basking in the warmth of a heart chasing your own. You want to want him. You do want him, but there’s still something missing. It doesn’t feel entirely right, but for now, you try not to dwell on it too much. Just let it be. Maybe in time, that void will inevitably fill.

Yoongi holds your hand through the lobby and on the whole way up even if neither of you says anything, just shy glances in the elevator and bashful half-hidden smiles. You don’t invite him in once you get to your door - because an invite now insinuates something that you just aren’t ready for - but he does kiss you again. If the kiss you shared downstairs is a proper goodnight kiss, then this one means see you later and doesn’t last half as long, but it makes you tingle just the same.

He pulls back, only to dive in again, and again, and again, until one chaste kiss turns into five and you have to push him away with a giggle so you can breathe.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, eyes still set on your mouth. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Yoongi,” you say, a little breathily, like oxygen hasn’t sufficiently made its way into your lungs since downstairs.

He rests his forehead against yours. “You’ve never said my name like that before,” he sighs.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to kiss you again.”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth and pretend to consider this even though you know you would like to be kissed again. “Maybe I do,” you say after a beat, bravely. “Just one more.”

He gives you your final kiss of the night then, one that lasts a second longer than the others, like he’s trying to memorize how you taste.

You head in once Yoongi is out of sight. You lean your body against the door the second you snap the lock shut. You touch your lips lightly, reliving those moments again even though they happened mere seconds ago. You’re buzzing with excitement like a schoolgirl, every feeling coursing through your body all at once.

You’re familiar with this. It’s the stage right before every love song you listen to suddenly reminds you of that one person.

You go through your regular evening routine with a pep in your step, thanks to a certain person tonight. You take off your carefully applied makeup and take a nice, hot shower. You think the heat would help melt away the high that you’re riding - like you’ve had too much coffee to drink and now your senses are beyond heightened - but it doesn’t. Once you’re fresh and comfortable in your PJs, you still feel that jittery feeling seeping through your pores, keeping you awake. There’s a message from Yoongi that tells you he has made it home safely.

It’s still early, and you’re far too restless to go to bed. You decided to brew yourself a mug of chamomile tea, even though you don’t even like chamomile and you can’t remember why you even have it, but they say that apparently chamomile is good for sleep. You decide to take the mug into the living room to sort through your mini mountain of mail that should’ve been dealt with days ago.

Sitting underneath that pile of junk mail and letters addressed to the previous tenant even though you’ve lived here for nearly two years, is a cream-colored card addressed to you. The material feels smooth under your fingertips, like velvet if that’s even possible. Inside, there are two names - one you recognize and another you don’t - typed out in a fancy calligraphy font and encircled by pretty flowers, all pinks and whites and romantic.

The saccharine sensation associated with the thought of Yoongi dissipates instantly. Instead, your mind blanks, only to buzz to life again momentarily with a newfound sinking feeling dragging you down.

You suddenly realize that Jungkook hasn’t crossed your mind once tonight. Not until now. That crestfallen look in his eyes from the other night appears in your mind again, clear as day.

You are, quite literally, holding someone’s declaration of love and yet, it’s not joy that you feel, having been asked to join them on their special day.

You never thought you would see Jungkook’s family again - even though you always adored his parents and you felt that they loved you too - let alone receive an invitation to his brother’s wedding.

remember when y'all said u wanted a wedding?? well u didn't say whose wedding 😌

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sleepwrites · 2 years ago

Note

could we maybe have some headcanons for macaque, wukong, and mk where it’s been a rough day and the reader lets him lay his head on their lap and he’s just like ‘I don’t ever wanna get up.’

Hey there thanks for the request! So this was a breath of fresh air for me to write because of all the persuasive stuff I had to write for english classes. But enough about my stupid exams, enjoy!

Tough day?

MK, Sun Wukong and Macaque laying on their s/o’s lap after a tough day and never ever wanting to get up.

MK works a delivery job people. He probably has to deal with the worst of the worst people half the time.

So his favourite part of the day was obviously shuffling through the door to his apartment and finding you, sitting on the couch with a soft smile on your face and a movie ready on the TV.

He smiled tiredly and lumbered over to you, promptly flopping down on the couch next to you. He brought his legs up on the couch and laid his head down on your lap as you began the movie.

MK closed his eyes as the opening of the movie began to play. “Work beat you up pretty bad huh?” You said.

He nodded and began his diatribe of how difficult the day was and each difficult customer he had to deal with, the occasional story about a demon attack thrown in here and there.

You listen attentively, eventually turning off the movie to listen to him better, you nodded along to his story, adding a comment here and there.

While he was talking you stroked your hand through his hair, undoing his bandana in the process. His hair then cascaded over your thighs, almost like a river of chocolate as you continued to gently undo the knots in his hair.

Once he finished he opened his eyes and looked up at you. He was met with your eyes staring lovingly down at him. The evening light shining through his open window and bouncing off your (h/c) hair made you look ethereal.

“So in conclusion, yeah work kicked my butt,” he said, bringing a hand up to cup your face.

You giggled and tilted your head into his touch, placing your own hand above his. You removed his hand from your face and held it.

MK sighed. “I dont think I’m ever getting up,”. “Fine by me,” you said, leaning down to give him a kiss.

Yeah, you could do this forever.

Sun Wukong

You sat on the couch of Sun Wukong’s little cottage, a few baby monkeys scampered around the floor as you flicked through movie selections.

You heard the tell tale sound of a door creaking open and you whipped your head round to see none other than the Monkey King (and your boyfriend).

He sighed dramatically before seeing you, smiling at him in all your wonderful light. Your eyes seemed to sparkle in the afternoon light streaming in from his window.

He grinned at you before scampering to the couch and practically throwing himself onto you, his tail wagging excitedly. He smothered your face with kisses before flopping down into your lap.

You giggled and began caressing his cheek with your hand, gazing lovingly into his golden eyes. They were almost like pools of liquid gold.

“Hows your day been?” You asked stroking his cheek with your thumb.

“Man, the kid’s getting better and better, he almost beat me this time!” He started to recount his and MK’s sparring session, gesturing wildly with his arms (even hitting you a couple of times by accident)

As usual you’d laugh at the jokes he’d crack and “gasp” when necessary, it was a simple routine that you’d fallen into when you moved in with Wukong.

You had never found it necessary or boring, your boyfriend made sure of that, it was fun, actually.

“aaand that about sums it up!” He said. “Well you’ve had quite the eventful day, how about we go and grab some lunch in the city?” You suggested.

Wukong dramatically sucked his teeth and sighed. “Yeah thats not going to happen, peaches,”

You furrowed you brow. “Why not?”

“Because I am never moving from here,”

Macaque

You sat on the bed of your small little apartment, nervously vibrating your leg as you did.

Macaque was an hour late for your meet up, usually he would show up two or three minutes before your set time.

Suddenly a black pool began to spread out on tour floor. You felt it but didn’t react. You simply smiled, staring at it and waiting for your boyfriend to emerge from it.

And emerge he did, he looked beaten up and tired, but he was alive at least.

You sprang from the bed and lept into his arms as the shadow portal dissipated. Luckily, Macaque caught you. He spun you around in a hug before stopping and hugging you properly.

You buried your face in his chest as he muttered something about not being that late. You slapped his arm, still hugging him.

You dragged him to your bed and laid his head on your lap as you propped yourself up on the headboard.

You looked down at his unamused face with mock seriousness and told him to spill the beans about what he was out doing and why the heck he was this late.

Macaque rolled his eyes before tiredly telling you the story of what he did that got him so beaten up. You listened attentively, becoming more and more engaged with each word he uttered (hes a theatre kid people he cant not tell an engaging story).

When he finished you looked up at you expectantly. You blinked out of your stupor and smiled at him before yawning loudly. You checked the clock across from your bed and raised your eyebrows at the time.

Macaque looked with you and smirked deviously before looking back at you, an idea forming in his head.

"Well darn, too late to head home and I'm oh so tired from that shadow portal, I guess I'll just have to stay the night here huh darling?~,"

#lmk #lmk x reader #lmk macaque x reader #lmk monkey king x reader #lmk mk x reader #Lego monkie kid x reader

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kazuwhora · 3 years ago

Text

— PURE/HONEY

⨳ WARNINGS. afab!reader, gn!reader, vibrators, dubcon I guess, roommate!hawks, creep!hawks, panty stealing, panty fucking, panty sucking, yk fun stuff <3

⨳ WORD COUNT. 1k+

⨳ NOTE. before one of u anons comes down my throat for a tense switch ITS INTENTIONAL LEAVE ME ALONE anyways heres sum hawks <3 this is also my submission for @decayish’s scumbag collab hehe

THE FIRST TIME hawks heard it, he didn’t know what to think.

the first time he heard the whirr of electricity and the shuffle of sheets and blankets through the thin walls, he almost let himself in— until a tiny chorus of whimpers and moans flooded beneath the doors and made his eyes go wide.

deviance was always his strong suit, but this? these were new bounds, even for him. but even so, night after night keigo found himself with an ear pressed to the door, listening for the switch of the vibrator and your sweet little moans to fill his fantasies once more.

every night was the last— that’s what he told himself while his hand traveled past the waistband of his pants, gripping his cock with a desperation that only you could bewitch his body with. every time his fingers teased the tip of his length, creating a web of precum that dribbled down his cock, he swore he would stop. that this would be the last time. that he would surely get caught if he kept doing this.

but no matter how hard he tried, nothing could stop him.

his desperation spread like a virus— it infected every part of his mind, every part of his body until even the most mindless tasks had him daydreaming about what you might have looked like behind that door, head thrown back against the pillow and maybe even a bead of sweat forming at your hairline as the vibrator pressed down against your clit. and it got worse, when you’d peek around the corner for a glass of water late at night, tiptoeing around keigo who’s hands desperately hid the bulge of his cock that ached for your relief.

and soon enough, hawks needed more.

he hates himself for doing it— he hates himself for what he’s resorted to, inquiring about your plans for the evening as if he cares enough to engage any further. he hates himself for the way his eyes gloss over as you talk, paying mind only to the timeframe of your absence as his mind wanders to all the things he can do with that time. his cock is nearly hard thinking about it, as it pulses and throbs the more you draw out your words and struggle to sling your coat over your shoulders.

“see you later?” you sing, peering around the corner of the door, waiting for keigo to say goodbye.

“don’t have too much fun without me!” his voice coos with a cheerfulness that makes you smile as you click the door shut behind you— he’s always been good at pretending.

hawks can’t help but wonder how long is long enough to wait until you’re gone, but his senses betray him just as they do every time. he can only hold himself back for a few minutes before his heart starts to race and his head spins with anticipation and arousal. adrenaline courses through his veins bringing an excitement to his body that can’t be quelled, and his wings shiver as he pushes himself away from the counter’s edge and sets off to your room.

he’s never seen past your door before, not even when you moved in. he’s always been respectful of your space, restricting himself only to his imagination when his ear is pressed against your door. but birds are known for their excellent hearing, and hawks knows almost exactly where everything in your room is.

he starts with the drawer of your nightstand, pulling the handle and nearly gawking at the array of toys you keep stashed under pieces of cloth and bottles of vitamins. his cock is already hard— it throbs in his hand that slips below his waistband once again, palming and pumping his length in slow motions as he reaches for the pretty pink bullet sat closest to the edge of the drawer.

at first he tries to hold back. he tries to pace himself, holding the vibrator to his mouth as his eyes flutter shut and he imagines once again, what you might look like splayed out on the very bed he sits on now. he tries to pace himself, but he can’t stop his fist from moving faster and faster, and his mind slips as his tongue takes the cool pink plastic into his mouth, swirling around the tip as if it were your clit. he thinks about all the places it’s been, all the times you might have used this very vibrator to get yourself off while he listened, and the thought alone nearly pushes him to the edge as he chokes out a moan and frees his cock from the constraints of his pants.

he’s desperate now— his wings shudder and shake as tiny feathers fall to your bed. he’s consumed by his senses, overwhelmed with the thought of you spread out for him, making yourself cum as he watches, and his fist tightens around his cock pulling whimpers and moans from his lips until something makes him stop.

his eyes flutter open, looking around the room as if he had heard a sound. on the floor below him, is a pair of your panties discarded in a scattered pile of dirty laundry, and keigo’s face heats up with an indescribable sensation he can barely contain.

he wants you so bad— he wants to taste you, to lose himself in your body, and this is the closest he can get, for now.

“fuck” he grumbles, using a feather to lift the panties to the bed where he weaves his fingers between the fabric and presses it against his nose.

his eyes nearly roll back in his head as his cock begins to ache again, leaving him no choice but to tend to his needs as his tongue sucks and laps at the fabric now soaked with his spit. he can’t help himself, and he needs more. he needs to taste you more than this— he wishes he could suffocate himself right there, desperate to get closer and closer, to envelop his senses in you until he can barely breathe. his cock is already throbbing and red, tip swollen and leaking as he pumps viciously with desperate moans that get lost in the fabric.

he’s just so needy, so pathetic and lonely. he needs you to help him— to guide him and make him cum all over himself, but the most he can do is pant against your panties, biting holes in the fabric as he pushes himself closer and closer to his high.

“f-fuck I—” keigo stutters as his core begins to shake and his wings spread more and more behind him. “n-need y-you t-to—” he continues, begging into the fabric as if you were there.

hawks can’t hold himself back any longer. he can’t stop now, and as his vision grows fuzzy and white, he throws his head back as he milks himself dry, wings fully spread and eyes knocked back in his head the more his cum spills onto the blankets below him.

his breath is hard to catch— it wavers and gasps as his fingers fail him, letting the soaked panties drop back down to the floor as his wings tremble and shed behind him. he can barely hold himself up, resorting to staring up at the ceiling until his legs work just enough for him to drag himself out of your room. a sense of shame looms over his aura, but hawks doesn’t care. the most energy he can conjure is dedicated to bringing himself back to his room, where he slouches against the headboard of his bed until his eyes flicker off into rest.

you’re quiet when you come home, opening the door only enough for you to slip past and set your things on the counter. and as you tiptoe to your room, there’s no sign of hawks. not a sound of the tv coming from his room, not a dish in the sink he left behind like always.

of course, nothing but a pile of feathers left on your cum soaked bed.

#hawks smut #hawks x reader smut #hawks x reader #bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha x reader smut #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia smut #keigo takami smut #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami #bnha

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 2 years ago

Note

I might not have been paying attention but what happened to the third baby during the switch?

Hiya! :) It is explained in the book (which I very much recommend! :)). If you want to read the book and find out then stop reading now ❤.

...

In the book there is more about The Them and we find out that Tadfield as another gang lead by the boy 'Greasy Johnson', the gang is called the Johnsonites. We find out that Greasy Johnson is actually the third baby :). And there are some greats passages about the metaphors for The Them vs the Johnsonites / Hell vs. Heaven :):

"I dunno," said Pepper. "I mean, it wouldn't be so interesting without ole Greasy Johnson and his gang. When you think about it. We've had a lot of fun with ole Greasy Johnson and the Johnsonites. We'd probably have to find some other gang or something."

"Seems to me," said Wensleydale, "that if you asked people in Lower Tadfield, they'd say they'd be better off without the Johnsonites or the Them."

Even Adam looked shocked at this. Wensleydale went on stoically: "The old folks' club would. An' Picky. An'—"

"But we're the good ones . . ." Brian began. He hesitated. "Well, all right," he said, "but I bet they'd think it'd be a jolly sight less interestin' if we all weren't here."

"Yes," said Wensleydale. "That's what I mean."

"People round here don't want us or the Johnsonites," he went on morosely, "the way they're always goin' on about us just riding our bikes or skateboarding on their pavements and making too much noise and stuff. It's like the man said in the history books. A plaque on both your houses."

This met with silence.

"One of those blue ones," said Brian, eventually, "saying 'Adam Young Lived Here,' or somethin'?"

Normally an opening like this could lead to five minutes' rambling discussion when the Them were in the mood, but Adam felt that this was not the time.

"What you're all sayin'," he summed up, in his best chairman tones, "is that it wouldn't be any good at all if the Greasy Johnsonites beat the Them or the other way round?"

"That's right," said Pepper. "Because," she added, "if we beat them, we'd have to be our own deadly enemies. It'd be me an' Adam against Brian an' Wensley," She sat back. "Everyone needs a Greasy Johnson," she said.

"Yeah," said Adam. "That's what I thought. It's no good anyone winning. That's what I thought." He stared at Dog, or through Dog.

"Seems simple enough to me," said Wensleydale, sitting back. "I don't see why it's taken thousands of years to sort out."

And then on the airfield :):

"I just don't see why everyone and everything has to be burned up and everything," Adam said. "Millions of fish an' whales an' trees an', an' sheep and stuff. An' not even for anything important. Jus' to see who's got the best gang. It's like us an' the Johnsonites. But even if you win, you can't really beat the other side, because you don't really want to. I mean, not for good. You'll just start all over again. You'll just keep on sending people like these two," he pointed to Crowley and Aziraphale, "to mess people around. It's hard enough bein' people as it is, without other people coming and messin' you around."

Crowley turned to Aziraphale.

"Johnsonites?" he whispered.

The angel shrugged. "Early breakaway sect, I think," he said. "Sort of Gnostics. Like the Ophites." His forehead wrinkled. "Or were they the Sethites? No, I'm thinking of the Collyridians. Oh dear. I'm sorry, there were hundreds of them, it's so hard to keep track."

#good omens #good omens book #third baby #greasy johnson #the them #adam #johnsonites #I love these parts #❤#book excerpt

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wintervalewritersecond · 2 years ago

Text

newfound emotions - rowan laslow

masterlist

requested: yes! requests: open! Helloo I really like your rowan fics I love how you characterize him, and I love the enemies to lovers so maybe you could do a part two of that enemies to lovers fic with the reader and Rowan spending time together and one of them confessing unintentionally, i just want sum fluff (♡μ_μ)

I LOVED YOUR ROWAN ENEMIES TO LOVERS FANFIC SM, I JUST NEED MORE OF THAT 😫😫😫 (if you want ofc c:)))

AN: WAHH im glad you liked it! thank you for liking how i write rowan :') we don't have too much information abt him from the netflix show, so i am secretly (not so secretly) hoping that he will return in season two :) for now, thank you, and have fun reading!

wordcount: 2.916 warnings: she/her reader, xavier is mentioned/in scenes, friends to lovers, high reader, talk about weed

After finally getting back and being scolded by your teachers, you hang out with Rowan more and more. Much to everyone's surprise.

"And where have you been, miss Y/L/N and mister Laslow?"

"We," you raise your eyebrows. "Got stuck in the rain, had to walk back, and then we had to sleep in some abandoned-looking hotel until we could get a bus back."

Principal Weems leans back in her chair, looking at you with one eyebrow raised. You looked like you just woke up - you did. You had accidentally fallen asleep while on the bus, Rowan waking you up again. This time, softly. No elbow to the ribs, but instead, soft taps on your shoulders. He even carried your bag to Nevermore.

You had ended up in the office, standing in front of Weems awkwardly. She only blinked, before breathing in deeply.

"Okay. You have missed classes today," she looks at the two of you sternly. "You can get the homework from the teachers, make sure to finish that. You are dismissed."

You give Rowan a look before turning around, leaving the office and finally sighing as the door closes behind the two of you. How was it your fault that they left without you? Sure, you should have been at the bus on time, but they should have done their job to make sure everyone was there.

"So," he lets out an awkward laugh. "Ready to catch up on some sleep?"

"I'm already as awake as I can be," you smile. "Maybe we can go for breakfast?"

"Quad or Weathervane?"

"Oh," you exclaim. "Weathervane, for sure! Have you ever had their cinnamon rolls?"

"Cinnamon rolls for breakfast?"

"Let's put our stuff away and go to the Weathervane. I am not taking this bag again and I really want to change into a new set of clothes."

Rowan agrees with you, sending you a quick smile before walking off to his own room. It still quite confused you to suddenly be so... friendly, with him. You had completely forgotten that that is how it started. To be honest, you didn't even realize that Rowan had heard it.

When Rowan enters his dorm, he sees Xavier waiting for him already.

"Man, where were you?!"

"Oh, hey," he awkwardly greets his roommate. "Yeah, uh, Weems kinda left me and Y/N stranded at that museum."

"Jesus," the boy grimaces. "In the storm? And with Y/N? Sounds like your nightmare."

Though Xavier knows all about the little fights between you and Rowan. He is friends with both of you, so he often heard both sides of whatever argument it was.

"No," he shakes his head. "We went to get a hotel after running through the rain."

Xavier doesn't hear any mean remarks about how you were annoying, stupid, dumb, or anything else. Something rather unusual.

"No fighting?"

"Eh," Rowan lets out a laugh. "A little bit. Apparently, she didn't even remember why we started fighting."

Xavier leans against his desk, raising an eyebrow. He had heard multiple times about the origin of Rowan and his hatred for you. Not only that, but the conversation was actually between you and Xavier.

"We actually made up."

"Huh?" Xavier exclaims with a laugh. "Is that real? I have never seen people bicker as much as the two of you."

The bag that sat on Rowan his shoulder gets placed on the floor as he pulls everything out. Some of the stuff was still damp as there was no place for all of it to dry. Even the notebook that was hidden in the bottom of the bag had not fully survived.

"Yeah, it's real," he nods. "Apparently, she did like me back then."

"Oh, I totally thought that already. But then she made that comment and it completely- poof."

All the damp clothes get discarded into the bathroom as Rowan quickly pulls a flannel and zip-up hoodie out of his closet. It might not be the most fashionable thing, but at least he feels comfortable in it. Why is he suddenly nervous about what he is wearing? He never had this feeling but now...

"You leaving already?"

The boy nods, stuffing his wallet and phone in the pocket of his jeans. He nervously glances in the mirror before spraying some perfume on his neck.

"Yeah, I uh- We are going to get breakfast. Neither of us ate anything since like, yesterday."

"You and Y/N?"

Rowan only nods, fixing his hair before walking up to the door. He says goodbye to Xavier, but doesn't really get a response. The boy is too busy muttering to himself, asking what the hell has happened that made you and Rowan turn into friends.

The boy didn't remember asking you where to meet, so he patiently waited in the Quad. He saw you coming down the stairs already, so he wiped his hands on his pants before walking over. Jesus, Rowan, why are you so nervous? You literally fought with each other yesterday, but the conversations throughout the night changed everything.

"Rowan! Hey," you smile, slightly out of breath from running down the stairs.

You had changed your clothing, switching to something dry and more comfortable. You have a tote bag on your shoulder - you didn't need a lot of things anyway.

"Ready for breakfast?"

It didn't stop at breakfast.

Weeks passed when you and Rowan would hang out. It nearly happens every single day now. Be it while sitting together in class, meeting up in one of your dorms, or even going to Jericho.

There have been moments where you really wanted to hit yourself in the head for how dumb you acted in the past. Maybe even you just admitted to Xavier that day. If you had just admitted to him that you had a huge crush on Rowan. What would have happened then? Maybe you would have even been dating- No.

Come on! You can't think that. You spent months bickering and fighting with Rowan. You thought that your crush would have faded by now - and for a bit, it actually did. But hearing that Rowan actually used to like you, sparked a bit of hope in your heart.

You now lay with your stomach down on Rowan his bed, flipping through the book you were reading. He sat at his desk, scribbling away in his notebook which is now filled with most of his homework.

"Hey, Y/N?"

You hum in response, looking up from your book.

"Do you have more paper? I think I ran out."

"Yeah, of course! It's in my bag."

He thanks you with a big smile, pushing his chair to reach your bag. He opens the zipper, taking out your sketchbook. You always had a few spare pieces of paper stuck in it, just in case you needed them. Rowan places the sketchbook on his desk, opening it to take some of the paper out, pausing for a second when he sees what is on the rest of the pages.

On the paper that actually is stuck in the sketchbook is his own face, perfectly drawn. It is almost like he is staring into a mirror. When he glances at you, he sees that your nose is still stuck in the book, so he quietly closes the sketchbook again, a faint smile on his face.

When he is finally done with his homework, he sits down next to you on the bed, reading along with you. Not that he is that focused on the book. He feels very nervous to sit this close to you, but he does not mind being here. You still lay on your stomach as he sits up, his head leaning down to see the text on the pages.

He might have been leaning down for too long as his glasses snip off of his nose, falling on your book. You let out a laugh before taking hold of the item, pushing yourself up to sit opposite Rowan.

"You need to get these fixed," you hum, cleaning the glass before holding it up to the light, making sure that it is actually clean.

"Yeah," Rowan sighs, "I am just too lazy."

You laugh again before softly placing the glasses back on his nose, making sure the legs are tucked behind his ears before softly dropping your hand back in your lap. Your eyes are still focused on him as you breathe in shakily. Rowan blinks a few times, his heart beating faster as the two of you slowly inch closer to each other. Is this it? Is this the moment?

Footsteps outside of the door can be heard before it opens, you and Rowan pulling away from each other as you quickly grab hold of your book again, nervously looking at the door.

"Hey, Y/N, hey, Rowan."

"Hey Xavier," you both respond in unison.

Not long after, you decided to go to your own dorm, telling Rowan that you have homework to do and that you really had to focus. After giving him a quick hug, you left for your own dorm. You had to get your head straight.

It returned back to normal after that awkward encounter. You still sat together during classes, still spent time with him in his dorm, and you still felt hopelessly in love with him. Something about that moment just... changed things. For the better? Hopefully. You wished to actually do whatever your heart was set on.

Today was the day when Yoko planned another cocktail party. You don't really drink, but there wouldn't really be any alcohol anyway. You were sure that you would be able to get some of Ajax his stuff. Even though you aren't in the Nightshades, you are befriended by everyone in the group, so you are still invited to their private parties.

You were in charge of snacks, and oh, did you live up to the expectations. You arrived with bags full of chips, chocolate, muffins, and even a cake. The grocery store in Jericho must be entirely sold out by now. The only people already in the library are Ajax, Yoko, and Bianca. The Siren is already holding a glass filled with liquid and Ajax has a lit joint in his mouth. When he sees you approach the group he grins, holding out the lit joint for you while snatching a bag of chips out of your backpack.

After all the food is placed on the table, you hear more footsteps come down the stairs. Rowan and Xavier are talking, saying hello to the group before sitting down on the makeshift couch. You hand the joint back to Ajax, thanking him before carefully making your way to the chair you sat in before. Your mind feels a bit hazy in the most comfortable way possible. It is like you have a thick blanket draped over your shoulders.

The party was a big success.

Almost all of the food got eaten, a ton of drinks got consumed, and Ajax even let you roll some more joints from which some of them also got smoked. The only ones completely sober are Rowan and Enid, both sipping a mocktail instead. During the night, you switched seats with Xavier. He now sat in the chair as you sat on the couch, right next to Rowan. You slowly slouch down the couch more and more, your eyes droopy and tinted red.

You listen to the story he is telling, his hands moving while he talks. Though you can barely focus on most of the words he says, the feeling of him speaking still makes you feel... something. You look up at him from your position as you nearly lay with your head in his lap. His eyelashes are long, making his eyes look even more magical than they normally do. The way his lips move as he talks is almost as mesmerizing as the way his eyes sparkle while talking.

He doesn't even seem to care that your head is in his lap as his hand makes its way to your hair without him even thinking about it. He still sips his drink while talking with Xavier and Kent, though now also stroking your hair and twirling a strand of it around his finger.

"I think it's time to go," Rowan looks down at you, a smile on his face. "Before you actually fall asleep."

Huh? You fell asleep?

You slowly sit up, licking your lips. Your mouth feels disgustingly dry.

"Yeah, us too."

You barely register the people around you moving as you look at only Rowan. He reaches behind him, holding out a bottle of water to you. You take it, whispering a thank you before taking a big gulp.

"I'm going to drop Y/N off at her dorm."

"Alright," Xavier nods, raising his eyebrow as he grins. "Night Rowan, night Y/N!"

"G'night Xavier," you yawn, clinging onto Rowan his arm as he guides you upstairs.

He smells so nice. The smell used to disgust you. Wood, flowers, citrus. Even a hint of fruit. You want everything to smell like it now. Your clothing, your bed, your shampoo - you just want him.

"Come on, sleepyhead," you hear Rowan chuckle. "Almost at your dorm. Before Thornhill sees you, huh?"

"I'm not a sleepyhead," you respond, a yawn cutting you off.

"Sure," Rowan nods. "And you aren't high either, are you?"

You turn your head to face him, stopping in your tracks. But, your movements are way slower than they should be. Rowan just watches you with an amused expression, his hand on the small of your back to hold you steady as you still think about something to say.

Nothing comes out, so you just giggle before walking again. He makes you feel so giddy and excited. There is no way to explain it. Maybe it is because you're high. No, you also feel like this when you aren't.

"Here we go," Rowan opens your door, guiding you inside before making you sit on the bed. "Shoes?"

You slowly undo your laces, your eyes unfocusing every few seconds. In the meanwhile, Rowan has already taken a pair of pajamas out of your closet, placing them next to you before heading into the bathroom. There is toothpaste on your toothbrush and make-up remover in his hands.

"Go brush your teeth," he says, making you groan. "Come on, you're going to regret it in the morning."

He knows you too well. You quickly brush your teeth, changing in the bathroom before stepping out. He hands you a wipe as you wipe off your make-up, slipping underneath your covers.

"Good night, Y/N," Rowan smiles, a glass of water on your bedside table as you shake your head.

"I have to tell you something."

"Hm?"

Rowan looks at you with an amused look, sitting at the edge of your bed. Your eyes are tinted red, and he knew that you were high. He finds it very funny, actually.

You would always come up with the weirdest things, and considering he did not smoke, he just learned how to go with it.

"You are so pretty," the whisper leaves your lips.

His heart stops beating for a second. Sure, he has hugged you, even held your hand, and you have fallen asleep on him more times than he can count. The two of you almost kissed before but never talked about it ever again.

"I'm serious," you yawn. "If you were my boyfriend - God. So gorgeous. Really."

A blush raises to his cheeks as he breathes in deeply, brushing your hair out of your face one last time before smiling, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

"You are gorgeous too," he smiles at you fondly before switching your night lamp off. "Goodnight."

"No kiss?"

Rowan laughs before shaking his head.

"Tomorrow. When you're sober."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

When the door behind him closes, he breathes in shakily. Where did all the sudden courage come from? Normally, he wouldn't really say something like that out loud. He wants to kiss you, that is for sure, but to promise one tomorrow? God, he wishes you would forget. But, being high is not the same as being drunk... Right?

It is early in the morning as Rowan finishes tying his tie. Xavier left even earlier than him, wanting some time in the art shed before heading to class. The boy runs his hand through his hair one last time, checking his appearance in the mirror once more before a knock is heard on the door. Is Xavier back?

When he opens it, he sees you, smiling brightly while holding onto your backpack.

"Good morning," he smiles. "Come in."

You skip in, your bag now on the ground as you sit down on his neatly made bed. The two of you have the usual talk - how are you feeling today, any plans, did you make all your homework? Then, it is time to head out. But, before Rowan places his hand on the door handle, you stop him.

"Hey, Rowan?"

"Yeah?"

He turns around, seeing you much closer to him than he expected. You look up at him with a smile on your face and one eyebrow raised.

"Little birdie told me that someone promised me something yesterday," you huff, though the smile never leaving. "A kiss, perhaps?"

Shit. You remember. Rowan opens his mouth nervously, blinking before closing it again.

"Only... Only if you want," he looks at you almost nervously.

You softly place your hands on his cheeks, looking up at him.

"From you? Always."

#wednesday imagine #wednesday oneshot #rowan laslow #rowan laslow imagine #rowan laslow x reader #rowan laslow oneshot

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kreativewritin444 · 3 years ago

Text

again / j.m

summary: what happens when you and jj see each other after the breakup?

authors note: hello loves!! lil sum while im finishing my two new chapters of “strangers” aswell as “teacher” tommy shelby stories. alsooooo the new chapter of jj and rafe story. ive been rlly busy with working two jobs but i stg ts coming :)

warnings: mention of pain/injury, drinks and pot, cursin

things ended with you and jj a few weeks ago, the drama not really going anywhere. you were civil and hated when people knew your business, besides the pogues no one knew you and jj broke up.

yet you still always saw your friends, avoiding jj by remembering his schedule by heart. tonight you had the two girls in your room, the three of you getting ready for tonight’s party.

it’s been a minute since everyone was on a golden goose chase, literally. so tonight was getting fucked up and being happy. your hair had soft braids flowing with your wavy locks, light makeup on.

dressed in a pretty soft purple and white romper, you smile at the two girls as the shot glasses clink together. you threw back the liquor, the small burn makes your head shake.

“i want another one.” you push your glass towards kie who held it, sarah agreeing as kie rolls her eyes.

“another round!” she pours herself another one as we down them, the liquor not burning this time. you check your phone seeing the time was 8:07, grabbing your bag beside your feet.

you stuff some of the mini liquor shot bottles you bought, along with the bag of weed stuff you had inside. “sarah put our main stuff in your bag and kie put the big bottles in your bag, i got the other stuff in mine.”

kie decides to drive, not really planning on getting wasted. unlike me who plans for a good time. the drive to the house wasn’t long, the host was some kook who’s parents weren’t home.

the lights and cars everywhere gave the house away, kie parks a street down allowing us time to smoke a bowl as we walk. “so y/n...” sarah trails off your eyes flicker away from the bowl to her.

“you gonna flirt with anyone tonight?” you knew what she was getting at but you didn’t care. you didn’t know if you were ready to get back out there and you weren’t gonna rush.

handing her the pipe and lighter exhaling, “nah, imma just have fun.” kie claps at that, you throwing her a wink. sarah clears the bowl handing it back, you stuff it in your bag.

walking through the front door, music blaring through the house along with many teens overtook your senses. you three link hands steering through the crowd to get to the kitchen.

pope was leaning against the sink talking to someone about something, “pope!“ we scream rushing towards him, a sigh of relief took over him.

“there you guys are, where the hell have you been (loca)?” kie smiles pulling out a bottle.

“preparing.”

you dig in your bag grabbing a few mini bottles for everyone, opening yours cheering with the others. you knew if pope was here john b and jj were too, but you tried to ignore that thought.

nothing was gonna happen anyways, its not like your gonna demand to leave or something. you had to face him, the situation, everything and stop being so scared.

finishing the mini bottle throwing it in the nearby trash, john b and jj round the corner. you and jj’s eyes immediately connecting, looking away quickly you grab a red solo cup. taking the bottle from kie and pouring out a huge amount into the cup.

“hey guys!” you finally look up bringing the cup to your lips, taking a harsh gulp. you didn’t even glance in his way only smiling towards john b, before you take a seat on one of the barstools.

“im gonna roll us a blunt.” you mutter to no one in particular, just wanting to keep yourself focused on something other than feeling his eyes bore into your skull.

“i’ll roll a joint too.” he mutters making your eyes flicker up towards him now, he wasn’t looking at you only pulling his weed and papers out his back pocket. you wish he was rolling this blunt like he used too, instead you down another gulp finishing grinding the weed down.

sarah hands the rillo back to you, the habit of her breaking it down for you never missed. emptying the weed into the blunt you without even thinking pass the grinder too jj, only then noticing your actions when he takes it not even paying attention.

fingers touching causes his eyes to connect with yours, instead of saying anything you clear your throat. going back to rolling the blunt, the group got quiet for a second making your eyes lift to see theirs. on the two of you.

you roll your eyes, “oh shutup.”

the group goes back to normal, engorged in stories as you finally finish the blunt. jj finished already but he was just a fast roller, you stuff the grinder in your bag.

you all went out towards the back, seeing people swimming smoking or chilling. sitting at the outside table you search for a lighter, “i cant find my lighter.”

without a beat jj hands you one, eyes now once back on his you smile this time. “thanks.” he nods in response, you lit the blunt inhaling the smoke. you hand him his lighter back taking a few hits before you pass it to kie who sat to your left. jj was on your right john b then sarah, pope was on the other side of kie. the only one not smoking, something about keeping a signal clear. idk

it’s like out of routine and instinct that over a few weeks you two haven’t seen each other, yet you two manage to sit beside each other. kie was already making faces towards you as sarah only sat smirking, leaving you in distress.

you take a few more gulps of the liquor, leaning back in the seat. the sun was barely up and the breeze was soft, making the air perfect. summer was your favorite time, no rules no expectations, just fun.

what you didn’t notice was jj studying you, watching how much you drank, the way you moved, everything. his mind racking full of thoughts. hating the way you two ended things.

the blunt was passed back but you noticed jj never hit it, you hold it beside you to him. he takes it handing over his joint to you, a soft smile over took you but ignoring the feeling you hit it.

everything got louder, the alcohol definitely taking affect now. the girls and you start singing along to the song, giggles escaping you as you hit the blunt. “yes!” you squeal as sarah fakes twerk.

just as you pass the blunt to kie, someone comes running outside. “Cops!” your eyes widen, everyone getting up. your hands clasp around your bag, picking the cup up you finish the rest with a few gulps.

everyone started taking off, you following behind when you get bumped into falling straight on your ass. “kie!” you scream for help, surrounded by anxious teens.

a step on your ankle made you scream out in pain, jj’s head whips back seeing you on the floor with a kid standing on you. “hey!” he moves back towards you, shoving the kid back. “get the fuck off her.”

he leans down, “you okay baby?” you shaking your head, lips quivering.

“my foot, jay. it hurts.” he nods pulling you up in his arms bridal style. he heads a opposite way of the others, going out a side door and away from the flashing lights and sirens.

“can you walk?” he ask making you nod, he places you down when your foot shoots in hot pain. “ow ow.” whimpering out holding onto jj’s arm for support.

“fuck, look i got the van keys. it’s down the street, stay here and i’ll be right back.” you two were looking into each others eyes, you having silent tears flowing down your cheeks.

“you promise?” biting your lip to hide the shakiness in your voice. his body stiffened slightly before just pulling you off your feet. confusion took over, holding on to his shoulders.

“what are you doing?” your voice soft almost hesitant to even speak, your eyes trained on his face. his eyes cast down towards yours before looking back up.

“im not leaving you to wait, ill just carry you.”

this was all too confusing, “my bag. do i have my bag?” he nods showing you it around his arm, allowing you some relief.

the van finally in view, jj setting you down beside the passenger door. helping you in your seat before walking around getting in. you shine your phone flash light on your foot, seeing it swelling with purple bruising.

“fuck.” you mutter reaching in your bag, pulling out a mini bottle. you quickly open it before chugging it.

“when did you start drinking so much?” jj’s voice broke the silence, him not even turning the van on yet. your head whips towards him, “i just got trampled and probably broke my foot, and your worried about my drinking?”

he rolls his eyes, “you know that’s not what i meant.”

you mimic him, “i dont know what you mean anymore, jj. you’re too fucking confusing.” you take another bottle out but jj reaches over and snatches it.

“will you just chill out?” you glare at him. “give it back.”

he glares back, you two now having a stare down. you were the first to break, “okay im done with this.” leaning back in the seat in exhaustion, mind swirling.

“well im not, what’s going on with you?” the question sent you into a frenzy, anger now coursing through you.

“whats going on with me? we broke up! you were my best friend and i’ve been feeling fucking crazy these last few weeks, you wont get off on my mind. i was supposed to come here have fun and forget about you! but of course not, now im alone in this van with you after you’ve called me baby and shit!”

inhaling a deep breathe panic slowly rising through you at the realization of what you just said. you look towards him horrified but instead of the same reaction, jj’s hand cup your jaw pulling you forward.

the two of your lips crash together, hands clasping onto him. “im sorry.” he mutters pulling away. rubbing your cheek with his thumb, “i promise i wont leave again.”

you lean forward kissing him back, before pulling away “i love you, jay.”

you two felt back at peace, lips connecting again in a hungry way. missing the other deeply.

#JJ Imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fluff #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #Outer Banks #outerbanks

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lovemeian · 4 years ago

Text

‘i love you too, bitch’—

characters! itadori yuuji, megumi fushiguro, nobara kugisaki, toge inumaki x gn!reader

i dont really see/read a lot of loosey goosey fun stuff with jjk, so here’s me, producing some + humour! fluff? + i might do one for my hq boys hehe + this is normal, non-cursed spirits are around!au lol + because of that, inumaki can talk okay? okay. im not going to make him tuna mayo his way through this conversation i cant do it lmao + a little angst on toji’s !

masterlist ; suggest sum! ; tip ya writer

In which you reply his ‘I love you’ with ‘I love you too, bitch’.

ITADORI YUUJI—

mans had to double back, snap his neck, eyes wild with a jaw drop shshs

he was running late for work, toast shove in his mouth, bits of the rice onigiri you had prepared for his lunch and inhaled in one while you were looking away waso n his chin, as he tossed the toast in the air to finish it, kissing your forehead in one swoop.

“i love you, baby, don’t miss me too much!”

you tried to stifle your giggles as he started shoving his own shoes, and you called out, “i love you too, bitch.”

i swear to god, you heard his neck snap the minute he turned, choking on his bread. “baby!”

you blink up at him innocently. “what? i thought you were about to be late? you’ll miss the 8.30 train if you don’t go now, yu.”

his jaw is slack and he looks utterly betrayed, you might as well have told him you were going to dump him for sukuna. "you called me bitch!”

“huh?”

he blinks a little, watching your confused, innocent expression with a little frown. maybe he misheard? “. . . alright, uh, bye, sweetheart. i love you, angel.” the emphasis nearly cracks through your facade.

he watches you carefully, eyes trying not to betray how much he’s waiting for your reply.

you can’t control your laughter anymore. “i love you too. . . bitch.”

“i knew it!”

as you fall into peels of bright laughter, you must give this man as much kisses before he really goes, just to remove the little pout in his mouth, whilst explaining the prank— he’s already going to be late, might as well try to make him feel better with tight hugs that’ll crease his suit. but he doesn’t care, as long as you make his heart glow again.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO—

he’s just so confused??

he doesn’t know if he’s hearing is going whack or something, because ‘bitch’ has never been your endearment nickname for him lmao

megumi was just lounging on the couch, reading through a new book he bought— something non-fiction about imperialism or something — when you come out of the room, fixing your clothes and patting around for your house keys.

he looks up, blinking. “oh, you’re going now?”

you meet his smile. “yeah, baby. gotta go make sure they don’t burn the place down without me.”

he smiles. “of course, good luck. i love you.”

you smile so sweetly at him. “i love you too, bitch!”

you turn just in time to see his entire face drop in shock. there’s the sound of movement on the couch as you try and stifle your giggles. “love?” you hear him approaching as you put on your shoes, and what greets his frown is your innocent little blink.

“yes, love?”

“is that, uh—” now he’s unsure, licking his lips and book forgotten in his hand. “did you just, uh, call me bitch?”

you stand up, finishing your laces, and giving him a sweet peck on the corner of his lips. then you wink. “yes, now bye!” disappearing out the door, megumi’s straight just blinking at the closed door, already fishing his phone to text anybody— yuuji or nobara, if this was normal or were you trying to break up with him through a method he doesn’t quite understand.

when he opens his book again, he curses as he didn’t remember which page he left at.

NOBARA KUGISAKI—

girly does not flinch

like at all

at most. . .

it’s hard to shock nobara, she’s seen through/gone through worse. and things likes this doesn’t faze her. in fact, it just comes straight out of the blue, a prank at the tip of your tongue when she comes back fresh from her run, sweaty and complaining about the early, morning heat— how she woke up late when the sun had already arrived, and mid through her usual route, the sunlight had come out in full force.

“you should just take a cool shower, life isn’t all that bad,” you say, finishing breakfast with a smirk as she rolls at you, kissing the side of your head.

she snatches a piece of bacon before you can protest. “okay, alright. don’t eat without me. love you.”

she says it out of habit, leaving a room with you in it.

you hold back your laugh as you reply it with, “love you too, bitch!”

nobara pauses, half choking on the bacon as she turns to you. you couldn’t help it, if you looked at her now, you were going to laugh, so you focus on the food in front of you, staring intently at the bacon with lips pulled back by sheer teeth, grabbed your coffee, and tried to control yourself as she stalks back towards you, one eyebrow arch.

“what did you just say?”

you raise your face, eyes wide and innocent. “hm? what do you mean?”

she frowns. then notices the twitching lip. “you!”

“i’m only joking, it’s a prank— no, no tickles, saki!”

she doesn’t stop until you’re a crying, writhing mess on the floor. if you’re going to prank nobara, make sure you can take the consequences of your actions.

TOGE INUMAKI—

why would you do this to a precious bean istg

inumaki’s favourite love language will always be quality time. and his favourite is going on road trips, even as simple as random drives with you. a stressed week in, he had hauled you to his car to just drive by familiar streets and getting the wind in your faces.

“feeling better?”

“mhmh. much.” you find his hand across the console, twisting your fingers and feeling his rings. “the air feels so nice.”

“it does.” maki rolls down the windows further, letting the wind whip wildly and noisily. “we can go to the park up by the hill after, if you want?”

“and hit that ramen place with the thick bone soup?” you sigh happily. “that’d be great to end the day. . .”

maki sees you from the corner of his eye, unable to— and refuses to — stop the smile that twists in his mouth at seeing you happy and relaxed. he reaches for your hand again, rubbing on that corner between your thumb and forefinger, and with a calm, serene voice that is nothing but honest—

“i love you.”

you turn to him, heart skipping a bit.

“aw, inumaki, i love you too, bitch.”

like a record player rewinding, he blinks, gives you a look— your face not giving away anything.

huh. did i hear wrong?

“angel, can you. . . repeat that?”

“mmh? i love you too. . . bitch.” he snaps his head at you, eyes wide, but your laughter is simpered by your shriek, “watch the road, toge!”

he turns his head back, pout protruding as you continue giggling. “that’s not nice.”

“i was just joking. . .” you take his hand and kiss his knuckles. “i love you too, aki.”

+ TOJI FUSHIGURO—

—for one of my favourite toji hoes.

oh, it’s rare for toji to say the three magical words that are more than foreign to his lips.

to this day, you don’t remember him saying them to you point blank without drunk or sleepy, or any excuse where he can shake his head with a lilting chuckle and say you must’ve misheard.

to him, love is one thing. its emotion he can’t name— too afraid of the implication, too afraid of what you can do to him because suddenly, the axis of his world falls like this: you can destroy him. with or without meaning to, and he’ll take all of it. he could.

but he can’t say it.

not yet.

but then you went out with friends, a time with them spent drinking and having fun, forgetting about your older love with words he’s unable to say but actions that prove them.

but you came home a little drunker than you thought, stumbling into the threshold and feeling less dizzy when you’re slumped over the cold floor and wall, leaning your head against it with a little hum.

“. . . are you just going to sleep there, then?”

you perk up at the familiar, amused, gravelly voice. its low and almost like air, a rumble in a chest and whispered out half air. you perk up and hum at his voice, but don’t move, too out of it to do so and he sighs.

“can’t stand up or won’t stand up?”

you hum in reply, moving your head a little bit. “can’t. but don’t. . . don’t scold.”

“i won’t scold,” he scoffs, and you can hear him moving until you felt him closer, and his cold fingers brush over your chin, tilting your head up. and your eyes open, smiling at the proximity of your lover. he’s unamused, eyes still dark and slits, and his hair still a little wet from the shower.

“do i wanna know how many you drank?” he asks softly, brushing a thumb across your lower lip.

you laugh lightly, tiredly. you kiss his thumb. “do you?”

he arches an eyebrow. “guess not. c’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

as he starts unwinding your arms, trying to get you to stand up with him, you take his arms. “can you. . . can you tell me you love me?”

he pauses. and it takes a while, you can count the seconds. “what?”

“do you love me, toji?”

he’s staring at you as if you’re a puzzle piece he doesn’t believe part of the equation. like a little anomaly, a little problem. and in your drunk mind, the disappointment stings harder.

you sigh. “it’s okay, let’s just go to—”

“—i love you.”

you freeze. when you look at him, you’re damn near owlish. he stares at you unamused, throat bopping is the only sign of his nerves gnawing at his edges. you fight a smile as you let him stand you both up, careful of your unstable state.

“c’mon, let’s get you to bed.” he pulls you to him, carrying most of your weight as he brings you the bedroom. when he takes off your shoes and jacket, murmuring about clothes and brushing your teeth as he leaves you at the edge of the bed—

“i love you too, bitch,” you whisper, and he stills.

when he turns, you’re losing your fight against the muscles of your own face. when his face skewers even further from deadpan, you fall back on the bed in peels of laughter, your giggles bouncing around the room.

“i do love you though,” you say to ceiling, hands on your stomach, sighing. “i adore you.”

“. . .love you too, bitch.”

made by lavi <3

taglist: @jadasz, @encrytpta, @asaitashi, @omiikeii, @iworshipyelena, @uhhkims, @fiona782, @princ3rae, @roanniee, @bbyhaji, @ebiharachan, @savantsoulfinder, @tsukkisrightpinky, @melsun, @betheydocrimewrites,

#jjk imagines #jjk fluff #itadori yuji x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #nobara kugisaki x reader #toge inumaki x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #itadori imagines #megumi imagines #nobara imagines #toge imagines #toji imagines #itadori fluff #megumi fluff #nobara fluff #toge fluff #toji fluff #lovemeian.#lvmn.shorts

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moaarrrrawr · 2 years ago

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "soap" MacTavish!!

Made this small fic for a comic I wanna make hehe. Basically about Ghost's struggles with sharing his romantic feelings. Anyways enjoy!

No warnings!! Just fluff, light suggestive wording (like reallyyy light lol)

Ghost was a stern guy. He could take all the stress the military handed to him so freely, people admired him for that. Admired how he breezed through training and how skilled he was with his knife. With any weapon for that matter.

So imagine Ghosts embarrassment when he fell so easily for Soap MacTavish, and who could blame him? Everybody loved him, he was amazing with people it was hard not to at least like the guy. As naturally as it came for Ghost for training it came just as natural for the Scot to communicate with others.

Just as others admired him, he admired Soap for how easily he could hand his trust on someone, you could even say he envied him.

Ghost found it stupid how head over heels he was. He basically followed Soap like a dog, well, a stray cat. He craved Soaps attention and Soap was more then happy to give it to him. They grew close but almost in a way he didn't want. He adored all the love Soap would give him, it almost seems infinite.

He felt as if he wasn't doing enough, even if it was plenty for Soap.

He wanted to show as much love as he could give without holding back the bad feeling that sometimes terrible will happen and he'll lose the only person that truly got him. Ghost was exhausted.

☆☆☆

It was late. 2:31 am.

Soap and Ghost were in the bottom of their bunks cuddled up, Ghost mask was on the floor, and he couldn't sleep. Soap could have passed out at that moment but fought his sleep so Ghost could feel a little less lonely around him. He was so unnecessarily kind to Ghost. Ghost wanted Soap to enjoy his night but he's quite stubborn, so Ghost gave in.

Ghost couldn't sleep for many reasons even with Soap by his side like always. He just couldn't shake anyway all his overbearing love for the man, well he couldn't keep it at a minimum, at least not this time. These thoughts kept him up for hours, with an embarrassingly red look on his face. He didn't wanna sleep these feelings off this time.

He sighs, preparing himself. Soap looks down at the bigger man that lays on him, Smiling a bit.

"Getting tired yet, Simon?" He jokes a bit as if he already knew the answer.

God he loved that. Soap's fun energy and the way he says his name. It comes out so naturally when he said it, better than anyone else he knew.

He just said the first thing on his mind, something that summed up all of his feelings into one.

"I wanna marry you, Johnny."

He said so breathlessly. It was something he's been holding back for so long. His accent ran bear, deep and hardy. He wanted what he said to matter.

Soap chuckled, "You really are just a big softly aren't you L.T?" He rubbed Ghost's back.

Ghost looks up, the redness of his face more visible than before. His eyes still stern but softens once he looks at the man. Holding him tightly. Like he would fall without Soap.

Like he would fall without Soap.

This took Soap back a bit, wasn't often you can make Ghost this flustered. Lying out his emotions so freely. He thought about what Ghost said earlier, wanting to marry him. Was he serious? They joked about this kind of stuff before but was it ever just that? A joke.

"Wow, you're being serious. Aren't you, Simon?" Soap says getting more red by the second, with a dorky smile.

Simon loved his smile. It made him feel warm inside since he doesn't smile much on his own, Soap could smile enough for the both of them for all he cared.

Ghost didn't know what to say next. All he really wanted to do was to kiss that smile right off of Soaps face. So badly. He wanted to kiss him to the point were he couldn't even look at him out of embarrassment. He wanted to hold his side forever, to fill his neck with love bites until its filled with bruises. To touch him all over.

He moves up to lean up against Soap, they're so close face to face, noses almost touching just waiting for a kiss. A passionate one at that. But Ghost just stands there, eyes half shut. No longer than 10 seconds but it felt like forever. He got lost in soaps eyes. He loved the color brown, he guessed it mixes well with his own that Soap would get just as easily get starstrucked in. As he waited Soap grew impatient leaning into him for a kiss.

It was short and sweet. Not too long after Ghost pulled from the kiss, not too far, to say something.

"I love ya' a lot, Johnny. I know you know that but.." He stops trying to find his words. "I fell harder for you more than you can imagine. I would have gone mad a long time ago without you. You're the best man anyone can ask for."

This made Soap's heart melt.

"Aw man, Simon. You're a real charmer when you wanna be." Soap at this point was wrapped around his finger, basically begging for another kiss, with a stupid smile on his face.

"Not as much as you." Ghost says while pulling Soap in for the second kiss he craved. This one was a lot longer and more passionate. Enough to make your knees weak.

He wanted this to last forever.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #john mctavish #john soap mactavish #ghost x soap #simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #gay mlm #mlm #gay #cod #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #ghost mw2 #soap mw2

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helpinghanikan · 3 years ago

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Shared Secret

Echo x reader (soulmate AU)

Sum: It takes suffering for Echo to find his soulmate.

AN: You ever start a fic and just keeps coming out wrong. But you've already put the time into it but it just doesn't work no matter how hard you try so you just wrap it up and post it to get it out of your head? Yeah, That's what this is. I might have accidentally used feminine pronouns for the gender-neutral reader. If you mind them please let me know.

Echo should have been considered defective long before joining clone force 99. Unlike the other four his mutation wasn’t as noticeable; just a little shape, something akin to a squiggle behind the shell of his ear.

Clones didn’t have soulmates: They’ll never get a mark, never have a partner, family and never be anything other than a trooper for the Republic. Echo has been told this multiple times over the years. Not that it stopped him or any of his brothers from talking about it in whispers or drawing little designs where no one could see them.

Fives had found the mark when they were cadets.

“You do this?” he asked while giving Echo a haircut.

It took two mirrors and quiet a bit of frustration before Echo saw it for himself. Back then he was excited about it. Keeping Fives awake for most the night talking his ear off about the thing. What his soulmate looked like, where they could be, maybe that he could meet them someday?

“They could be a jedi or something.” Echo had said under the covers with his best brother.

“Don’t bring that up to General Ti. Don’t bring it up to anyone actually.” Even under the darkness of a blanket and dimmed lights Echo saw how Fives’s face dropped. “Long-necks will know that you’re…” Fives hadn’t wanted to outright say defective. “and they’ll decommission you. You gotta keep this a secret.”

That was the last time Echo had talked about it. Sometimes he’d think about it, about the one out there who was marked as his. It was easy to get lost in those daydreams about the impossible.

He’d see them just before going to sleep, their appearance changing every time to match every possibility. On transport to this or that he wonders what they could do: not just the expected fun stuff but general life to life. A lot of vids show the husband getting breakfast ready before work; he could do that. He could kiss them before they leave and hug them when returning. He daydreams about the negative things too. Like arguments, because of course there’d be some kind of argument. Even then he could do that, because at least an argument meant that they were there.

Echo had plenty of time to enjoy these fantasies while in stasis. He wasn’t aware of really anything on Skako Minor. Dreams of his one and only mix with memories of explosions and strategy meetings. Eventually it’s impossible to separate his fantasy from memories. By the time Rex is in front of him it takes a moment to that it was really happening.

“Take care of him,” Echo heard Rex say inside the medical wing of Anxes where Echo was immediately forced onto a gurney. “Please. He’s been through enough.”

This was your first introduction to Echo. Where you looked down at malnourished man with concern but smiled when looking to the captain.

“And I won’t put him through anything else.” You told Captain Rex.

Like all clones Echo was polite to you and the staff. A lot of “yes, ma’ams,” “no sirs,” and “Thank you” s when a normal person wouldn’t have done the same.

“Nice to feel another human’s touch after so long.” He said when shaking your hand.

Hours after being pulled from stasis and Echo was still freezing to the touch. You tried to ignore this during the handshake, but you had to pull away quicker than necessary. Immediately apologizing when Echo’s faced dropped at your reaction.

“I’m sorry, that was rude.” You say, hand reaching up to toy with the mark behind your ear.

This mark touching was a common habit throughout the galaxy. Like some part of our brains think that touching our mark was close enough to being comforted by a loved one. A dead giveaway about your emotions but it seemed to work on some level.

Echo felt a tingle, or a small shudder, when you did this. He could just blame it on where your hand had gone or just being overly sensitive with everything that has happened. But he still looked up at you when it happened, only now remembering his defect.

“Echo?” You ask, seeing his face disassociate and go blank.

He blinks and shakes his head a bit. Coming back to himself to answer. “It’s alright. Really, I’m just…”

“Tired?”

“Sleep is the last thing I need. But I am kinda hungry…”

It hurt when a clone said they were hungry. Their rations gave the bare minimum in nutrients, just enough to get the job done. It tasted awful and was likely the reason most troopers could be considered almost underweight. What’s worse was how most would never taste anything other than those rations.

Not that any of your patients would ever be one of them.

“I’ll get you something good, okay?” You said, leaving his room before he ask what it would be.

Wherever you were deployed the necessary supplies would come with you. Like other doctors this consisted of medical supplies and tools. You were special in that it included noodles, space-tomato sauce, and rounded meat.

A simple recipe that had countless variations throughout the galaxy. A lot of children had this as their favorite meal. After most of the clones get a taste they tend to say the same. Echo was no different: Sitting up straight in his bed when you entered with a steaming bowl in your hands.

“If you don’t like it I can find you something else, no problem.” You said, although he already had a mouth full.

“Even those rations bars would taste good right now but this…” He said spinning the fork around. “Thank you.”

“Your welcome, Echo. If you don’t mind I would like to do a quick examine.” You said, taking a step sideways to look at his back.

There’s a slight pause in his eating when you say this. Although he nods there is a distinct tensing in his muscles when you first touch him. The spaghetti in his hand acting as a distraction from your hands.

Echo wasn’t just going to need a doctor; he was going to need a mechanic to take a look too. The metal was heavy and would ting when tapped. He could decorate himself with magnets if he ever wanted a new look. Those would be jokes to save for later.

Following the metal up to his head you were gentle on his skin. He’s still freezing like no man should ever be. Although you were basing this on touch it’s surprising that his heart was still beating. Once upon a time Echo was darker like his brothers, experimentation and manipulation had made him paler. The only one you’d seen lighter was Crosshair. Maybe that would be something he could bond over later; at time you start with the magnet jokes.

His hair is gone and would likely never return. Metal was wrapped around the back of his head in a single line. It’s impossible to say how deep it goes into his head without a scan. Echo is going to need more than a doctor to help. You made a mental note to get someone from robotics in here later.

He flinches when you get close to his ears.

“Sorry,” You say but don’t let go. “Are you in pain?”

“No just…You can keep going.” He says, and you do.

It doesn’t take long to see why he had flinched away. His mark was better hidden than others, but it wouldn’t be hard to find on accident. Especially when it was in the same exact spot as your own. The same almost silly squiggle shape in a faded blue color. Like it was decided last minute to give the two of you a mark. Leaving no time to design anything cool and just slapping whatever on your skin. In this moment that squiggle was the prettiest thing in the galaxy.

It was hard to try and explain everything to Echo. All he saw when you stood and looked down at him was a smile. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, thankfully staying silent while you leaned forward to show the back of your own ear.

While Echo was smiling his had a certain layer of concern behind it. The smile eventually leaving completely as his mind starts to fall in on itself. Already becoming overwhelmed at the thought of how his life would affect you. How you were now part of his secret and not just a face that changed with every fantasy.

He wanted to laugh at the universe for making him suffer just to meet you. He wanted to cry for the future he could have had with you if things were different. He wanted to scream in fear that you were now part of a secret that could put you both in danger. Most of all; he wanted to hold you, to be held by you. He wanted so much…

At least you could do was give him a touch. Your hand, warmer than any star, against his cheek. Saving him from his own thoughts. He blinks slowly and looks up at you.

“Clones don’t have soulmates.” Echo says. His eyes dreamy but voice sad.

The cot groans a bit when you sit down. Now eye level with Echo who you still caress with one hand.

“I really don’t care what clones do or do not have. Because now I have you.” You say.

“I have you.” He repeats, using his only human hand to cover yours.

#Reader insert #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars the clone wars #Echo x reader #Soulmate Au #Not beta read

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blackswaneuroparedux · 3 years ago

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Anonymous asked: What role does humor play in your life? How do you look at comedy and its role in culture? Do you think comedy today is more or less funny as woke culture has its itchy trigger finger at the ready to cancel anyone that mocks it? Is it harder for edgy comedians like Dave Chappelle to remain relevant in today’s toxic society?

Your questions are quite wide and so I hope I can hone in on some of the issues you raised.

I don’t think I’m different from anyone in general in not only loving comedy but also having humour in one’s life. I’ve watched my fair share of comedian stand up sets at comedy clubs and shows (Eddie Izzard, Andy Parsons, Ross Noble, Jack Dee, Stewart Lee, Frankie Boyle and so on).

I try to start my day by watching or reading something funny like an online clip or an article, essay or chapter (think Clive James or Anthony Lane or P.G. Wodehouse) - just to set the tone for the rest of the day. Because let’s face it, one look on the home page of any news media from the BBC or the Economist makes for depressing shitty reading.

Put another way, I’m like the girl who gets up one fine morning and wears a brand new white pair of shoes at school. You just know those white shoes are going to get battered around. They’ll get all kinds muddy shoe prints stomped on it and likely chewing gum and dog poo under it. But least you started the day clean. That’s how I feel about humour in my daily life.

I’m fortunate that I have a close circle of friends who make me laugh and that is precious. We text and send each other stuff throughout the working day. It’s light relief for a stressful day at work.

I try not watch comedy on a plane on my lap top. I think the air stewardess in my business class flight always think I need a sedative because I usually get a severe case of the giggles. I try so hard not to laugh out loud out of respect to the sleeping passengers near me. I just can’t help myself. I wet my knickers laughing so hard.

My perspective on and indeed my insatiable need for comedy in my life can best be summed up by that 18th Century man of letters, Horace Walpole who wrote, “The world is a tragedy to those who feel, but a comedy to those who think.”

For me the best comedy is hilarious and humane but equally brutal and true. Like many people I grew in a home where humour was the life blood of our family especially around the dinner table and just generally goofing off. The jokes to point out our foibles or pratfalls acted like glue to bind us together more strongly. As times goes on and as one matures you also learn to lean into humour as a personal coping mechanism when dark clouds gather above. But it’s also a mark of maturity that you also become self aware of humour as a commentary on things that lie just beneath the thin skin of society.

Humour has been on the minds of thinkers for centuries. My eldest sister who is a neurosurgeon and is interested in humour as a side topic of interest gave me a book on the psychology of humour as a birthday gift. As Peter McGraw and Joel Warner explain in their insightful book, The Humor Code: A global search for what makes things funny, “Plato and Aristotle contemplated the meaning of comedy while laying the foundations of Western philosophy… Charles Darwin looked for the seeds of laughter in the joyful cries of tickled chimpanzees. Sigmund Freud sought the underlying motivations behind jokes in the nooks and crannies of our unconscious.” A good read.

We tend to see comedy through the romantic lens of the one-off inspired comic whose unique view of the world is entertaining. But the focus on the individual witty voice misses the gigantic, political nature of the task of comedy. Comedy isn’t just a bit of fun. We don’t laugh at things unless they cause us very serious problems at other points in life. We can see this in the standard category of jokes: about relationships, family, sex, money, impotence, bowel movements, identity etc. We laugh most readily around things that in other ways are very distressing. A good joke invariably has a relationship with darkness, anxiety and pain.

I’ve always valued humour in people as a precious gift. I love having a laugh and even more if it’s at my expense. Perhaps that comes more readily to the British who appreciate the existential absurdity of life and don’t particularly make an effort to climb out of the hole they fell into…and if they do then we bring them down a peg or two.

But Northern Europeans have an even drier sense of humour, yes, including the Germans (it’s there…somewhere) but in the Swiss it’s totally absent. Norwegians have perhaps the driest sense of humour in Europe and that partly stems from the fact of its social code of janteloven - the idea that you mustn’t think of yourself better than anyone else. Because of this I firmly believe humour should be an equal opportunity offender. Moreover what I love about enjoying a good joke is that one the singular properties of certain comedy when done well is the freedom to explore ideas in an unconventional or counterintuitive way, to subvert society’s norms.

No one does that better than a comedian in culture in flux. As the great George Carlin put it, “I think it's the duty of the comedian to find out where the line is drawn and cross it deliberately.“

I’ve always been naturally drawn to dark humour from an early age and I suspect that had a lot to do with being packed off to boarding school at a young age (for my peers it was as young as 7) and just learning to develop coping mechanisms in the face of parental abandonment (or it seemed that way).

However I didn’t know the real importance of dark humour until I actually served in the British army and found humour as a form of therapy to deal with stress and situations of life and death with my army brothers and sisters. Our shared jokes were so off colour and un-PC that we would dare not repeat them in polite and respectable company. But that kind of shared humour served a crucial importance as any soldier will tell you. By mocking dangerous things or the situations you might find yourself with others, humour can embolden us. It helpfully paints what is potentially very frightening as deeply ridiculous. Joseph Heller’s ‘Catch-22’ captures the spirit of the absurdity of it all.

The comic perspective fills a central need of every society; it enables us to cope much better with our own follies and disappointments, our troubles around work and love and our difficulties enduring ourselves. Comedy is waiting to be reframed as a central tool behind the creation of a better world.

Comedy offers us a way of having a better time around things which, otherwise, can feel pretty disastrous. Ideally, in the utopia, comedy and its therapeutic potential wouldn’t be left to chance. Humour would be deliberately cultivated as a benign response to a range of entrenched difficulties. Previously, certain countries had an elaborate carnival season devoted to enforced comic activities. For a brief time, the weak could boss around the powerful, priests and nuns were supposed to hold obscene rituals in their churches, serious people were required to get drunk and throw bags of flour over each other’s heads. Humour wasn’t just left to those who felt so inclined: it was a kind of duty.

Black humour was a means of reducing anxiety of the awareness of death. Historians now know that one of the things that helped the persecuted Jewish community survive the demented Nazi persecution creeping into full blown genocide was humour, often of the darkest kind.

An example well-known joke went like this in Warsaw: "Moishe, why are you using soap with so much fragrance?" - "When they turn me into soap, at least I will smell good”. Jokes about soap were in response to rumours which started circulating in 1942 about soap produced from the fat of the Jews. Other jokes of this kind: "See you again on the same shelf!" or "Don't eat much: the Germans will have less soap!"

Indeed Jewish humour did not die in the Holocaust. In fact, Jews depended on humour to endure the period after liberation, both as a psychological weapon to grapple with what they had endured under Nazi persecution and as a source of coping with the displacement of the postwar period. After the war, humour was a poignant affirmation of mir zaynen do - we are (still) here - a declaration that the Jewish people had not disappeared and indeed could at times have the last laugh.

Does comedy have something to teach us or can we use comedy to teach? That is an interesting question in itself.

When I discuss this with friends across the political and non-political spectrum, some have argued comedy can’t be didactic as its the ultimate contradiction in terms. It’s why they hate woke comedy that often pervades the BBC these days and even the comedy clubs. These friends and I would sometimes go to the Edinburgh Festival to see comedians live on stage. But they say none of what passes for comedy on stage is funny because of the politics of woke.

I would disagree. Not about woke comedy - which ranges from pedestrian to just awful. But I will say that some of the best comedy is didactic. That’s because the best comedy is about revealing hilarious truths.

The ancient biblical books of Jonah and Esther, for example, have comedic elements that are clearly didactic. William Shakespeare’s ‘Much Ado about Nothing’ is didactic. The Marx Brothers’ ‘Duck Soup’ and ‘A Night at the Opera’ are didactic. Mel Brook’s ‘The Producers’ (original only) and ‘Blazing Saddles’ are didactic.

For us Brits, Monty Python is didactic, especially in its masterpiece, ‘Life of Brian.’ For Americans, ‘Seinfeld’ is didactic precisely because it’s about nothing. From ‘The Great Dictator’ to ‘Dr. Strangelove’ and ‘Blackadder series’ to ’South Park’, you will find that great comedy can be didactic.

The problem my friends identified is not that woke comedy is didactic, but rather that the woke side of the moon has no light of knowledge to impart. Woke ‘comedy’ tries to be didactic and fails because it has nothing profound or interesting to teach.

Comedy is not merely an event that produces laughter. A fart is not comedy (although it could be). The difference between comedy and tragedy is tonal. Both stem from the inflexibility of the ego.

This is why for example Shakespeare’s ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ is such a remarkable comedy. The two people who want to be viewed as most principled in their objection to romance are so easily pushed over into love, because their hearts are ultimately farcical. The hilarity stems from the disconnect between their inner and outer selves.

While the ridiculous disconnect between the ego and reality makes us laugh here, it could just as easily make us weep if the situation were changed. The fundamental difference between Shakespeare’s comedies and his tragedies is the ending. Everyone gets married at the end of his comedies and everyone dies at the end of his tragedies. Yet Hamlet and Macbeth are still felled by their own inflexible egos, just as Benedict and Beatrice are made to be wonderful, humorous fools for love by the same principle of human nature.

Comedy’s didactic nature is even clearer when we look to films like ‘Duck Soup’ or ‘Blazing Saddles.’ ‘Duck Soup’ is a scathing indictment of goose stepping fascism (of the real kind and not the lazy insults lobbed over these days) and arguably the Marx Brothers’ funniest film. ‘Blazing Saddles’ does the same for American racism. Neither is necessarily meant to be interpreted along propositional or pedagogic lines. Regardless, those films teach and they teach well. They expose the absurdities of reliance upon authoritarian government and identity politics to solve our problems.

The problem with woke comedy is that woke comics want to convince people to do the right thing, to hold the right view, in other words to moralise if we want to be considered good people - which we all do. But the politics behind woke politics is fundamentally ridiculous. That’s why it can be so easily used for comedy: their core concepts and assumptions (gender and biology in trans ideology or the darker you are on the colour spectrum, the greater your societal victimhood) are easy to mock.

In ‘Life of Brian,’ the Pythons did not mock Jesus. They mocked institutionalised religion. When Jesus appears, it’s in the background, he only speaks scripture, and his portrayal is markedly respectful. Nothing else in the film is respectful - everything else is treated like a huge hilarity. John Cleese said the reason they didn’t try to make Jesus funny is that they didn’t think he would have been funny.

According to John Cleese, Jesus didn’t have an ego to bruise or be inflexible. Yet Jesus was a complete and humble person. If he slipped on a banana peel and fell, he would have found it just as funny as anyone else. That’s because Jesus was self-forgetful. You can’t mock someone who gets the joke. So you can’t turn Jesus into a joke, because he’s not threatened by jokes.

One of the most enduring theories of humour arrived courtesy of the philosopher Thomas Hobbes. It asserts that humour is ostensibly about mocking the weak and exerting superiority. While this is clearly the function of some comedy – anyone who has flinched at a comic’s lame attempt to poke fun at, for example, disability will attest to this – it’s a relentlessly bleak and far from complete explanation of the purpose of humour. It’s better for a comedian to punch up then down.

So the real question today’s politically charged climate especially in the so-called culture wars (more visible in the Anglo-American world rather than in the rest of the world) is who is doing the punching up and who is punching down?

It depends as each side of the political divide claims the lower ground ie they are the weaker and therefore don’t deserve to be punched down upon but they can freely punch up.

Dave Chappelle’s comedy is the absurdity behind the so-called victim olympics that pervades behind woke culture. So making jokes about people of colour by white people is punching down but, as Chappelle alludes, people of colour can’t make jokes about white men in skirts ie trans because that’s now a greater sin and it would be punching down. In accepting the Mark Twain Prize for American Humour in 2019, Chappelle said a good joke is a finely crafted joke and one designed to offend regardless of one’s feelings or of one’s politics. Victimhood in terms of giving personal or political offence has no place in comedy.

I believe a joke is a joke. It doesn’t matter where it comes from so long as it’s funny. If you laugh, you own it.

I personally think much of our popular culture is overwhelmingly left - from Hollywood to the BBC - I don’t think that should be a controversial statement. It’s nearly always been that way as it attracts a certain kind of creative content maker whose values are liberal in the classical sense. There’s nothing wrong in that because this liberalism of the past didn’t necessarily inject itself into the art except in very benign ways but mainly it just told a damn good story or made us laugh because they told genuine funny jokes (from Python to Blackadder and Frasier to the Simpsons).

I think that’s changed now as woke ideology is increasingly the raison d’etat of a new generation of creative content makers. The message is more important than the craft itself.

Anyway, I digress.

Punching down is a charge of course that has been levelled at Dave Chappelle for his many jokes about different groups who have invested a great deal in their identity and also exert their own social and political power. But does he really do that? I don’t think so.

The mainstream media critics publicly hated his comedy special, but the ordinary audience overwhelmingly loved it (if rotten tomatoes metric score of 96% approval is anything to go by). It’s clear that many in the mainstream media had not really watched the show or gave an accurate account. Indeed the mainstream cultural critics in the US and in the UK prevented its readers from knowing that a debate was even happening, let alone what it is really about. If the argument about gender theory is mentioned at all, it is dismissed as a bunch of “anti-trans” bigots - aka ‘TERFs’ - hurting a beleaguered and tiny minority, for some inconceivable, but surely awful, reason.

As one of my favourite conservative writers (and gay rights advocate) and as an authority on the conservative philosopher, Michael Oakeshott, Andrew Sullivan put it really well, as he always does:

“Chappelle’s final Netflix special, ‘The Closer,‘ is a classic. Far from being outdated, it’s slightly ahead of its time, as the pushback against wokeness gains traction. It is extremely funny, a bit meta, monumentally mischievous, and I sat with another homo through the whole thing, stoned, laughing our asses off - especially when he made fun of us. The way the elite media portrays us, you’d think every member of the BLT community is so fragile we cannot laugh at ourselves. It doesn’t occur to them that, for many of us, Chappelle is a breath of honest air, doing what every comic should do: take aim at every suffocating piety of the powers that be - including the increasingly weird 2SLGBTQQIA+ mafia - and detonating them all.

‘The Closer‘ is, in fact, a humanely brilliant indictment of elite culture at this moment in time: a brutal exposure of its identitarian monomania, its denial of reality, and its ruthless tactics of personal and public destruction. It marks a real moment: a punching up against the powerful, especially those who pretend they aren’t. Bigoted? Please. Anyone who can watch this special and think Chappelle is homophobic or transphobic is either stupendously dumb or a touchy fanatic. He is no more transphobic than J.K. Rowling, i.e. not at all, and the full set masterfully proves it to anyone with eyes and ears.“

I would argue it’s hugely reassuring to see the ‘powerful’ laughing at themselves - in this case the LGBTQ+ community’s more shrill and self-righteous social justice warrior activists that brook no public criticism of their conduct against women and other critics who don’t have the power to fight back and are instead cancelled. It is a trusim to say that finding oneself comical is a token of maturity. It means being able to see one’s faults, without being too defensive about them. This, I argue, was one of the messages of Chappelle’s comedy show.

The thing that intimidates us isn’t actually power. It’s power that looks like it’s going to be inhumane: insensitive, unkind power. So we’re intently interested in things that reveal a mature, kindly sort of power.

Humour often provides a mechanism whereby the powerless (or at least the less powerful) can give constructive but pointed feedback to the powerful. Whether the powerful - in Chappelle’s view that would be the trans and social just warrior crowd - can take social commentary masked as a joke says a lot about their level of maturity.

Humour, as one neurosurgeon sister put it, is a form of psychological processing, a coping mechanism that helps people to deal with complex and contradictory messages, a response to conflict and confusion in our brain. Humour that is in bad taste or cruelly targeted at particular groups may generate conflict, but humour is also our way of working through difficult subjects or feelings. In this sense the comedian’s role is not validate our feelings but to make us think.

In olden days, the idea of the court jester - an officially licensed and salaried comic - was built on the importance of humour to the mental health of the powerful. Even if in the council room or around the dinner high table, the leading people didn’t feel much like joking, the jester was required to make barbed, witty and perhaps mocking remarks to deflate pomposity and restore sane perspective. The high table may not be occupied by the feudal elites anymore but by a more egalitarian society now.

Who can disagree with the fact that all of us - leftist, conservative, revolutionary, traditonalist, straight, gay, lesbian, bi, trans, different colours and many creeds - are not in need of our inflexible egos and the self-important pompous bubbles we inhabit from being burst open from time to time?

If we live in a world where everyone demands equality, in other words to sit at the same high table, then we also sign up to be equally ‘offended’ by the court jester, however fair or unfair it may feel.

The shrill of cancelling a comedian is not the answer if we find a joke offensive. We have the right to protest. We can protest by...not laughing. It really is that simple.

Thanks for your question.

#ask #question #humour #comedy #go woke go broke #woke comedy #woke #dave chappelle #british humour #society #jewish humour #culture #jokes #funny #humour is the best medicine #personal

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clayticklish · 3 years ago

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Life Update

I haven’t written anything in awhile so I thought I’d sum up some things that have happened recently! There’s been some pretty major developments and it’s always fun to look back on everything that has happened. Scrolling back through my blog, the last major event that I talked about was NEST back in May, so let’s use that as a starting point.

1. I started seeing someone new! We met on OkCupid and actually started chatting back in March but weren’t able to meet up until end of May. He lives about a 50 minute drive away, but we’ve managed to hang out once every 2 weeks since. This connection is a lot of new things for me - I’ve played with guys before but this is the time I’ve been with a guy in a dating type of scenario. It’s also the first time having a poly relationship that goes beyond casual play, and I’m super excited that he and Jess get along and we can all hang out together sometimes. It’s also my first time being in a kinky relationship where we don’t both share a tickle kink (though it is still fun to mix in a bit of tickle play every once in awhile 😉). It’s been amazing, and also a lot of new feelings to process. I’m super excited about it!

2. I’ve been exploring my local kink scene! Surprisingly, my little city has one of the most active kink munches in all of southern Ontario. Jess and I have been having a ton of fun going to the park munches, rope socials, and Littles munches. We’ve met some really cool people and learned a ton. I’m super excited to be able to include rope work more regularly in scenes now. I’m also excited to have some great new friends, and maybe introduce some tickle play to people who otherwise may not have considered it. There’s also a cottage weekend coming up that sounds like it’s going to be amazing.

3. I’ve made some more progress on the garage! This project continues to take far longer than I thought it would, but I’ve got it to a point where the loft area is a somewhat usable play space so that’s a plus. Next steps are to finish the drywall and install a heat pump for the winter. Hoping to have the main area ready to host a Halloween party in October!

4. We went to the P99 tickle gathering in Pittsburg back in June! There were a few people that I’ve been hoping to meet up with since before Covid, and it finally happened. Teleportation needs to be a thing so I can see all the wonderful people in the world more often 💕

5. We went back country camping for the first time! It was a great introduction to it - we only had to hike about an hour in from our car, and we were right next to the beautiful waters of Georgian Bay. I did mushrooms for the second time, and overall it was an amazing experience but I think I prefer doing them in a house instead of camping. Everything was augmented - the good stuff like the beautiful scenery and the good company, but also the bad stuff like the pesky flies and less than comfortable tent and sleeping pad. Can’t wait to plan another trip (both camping and mushroom 😉)!

6. I made some new content for OnlyFans! This is actually a pretty cool story. I have a friend on Facebook that I’ve known since high school. We were never super close but she always posted really funny, cool, and sexy content over the years so the Facebook algorithm would always keep her in my feed. Back in January she started posting about starting an OnlyFans and was looking for content ideas, so I thought I’d reach out and tell her about the garage I’m building. We started chatting and eventually I told her about my own OF account for tickling content. She hadn’t heard of tickling as a kink before but was interested enough to try! So we met up a couple weeks ago and filmed some stuff. I’m just finishing up the editing now so I expect we will be releasing that in the next week or two. She also wants to meet up again which is super cool. I may have helped convert another tickle kinkster?!

7. I started looking for a cottage! It’s been a major goal of mine to get some property outside the city to try to live a little closer to nature, and I’m almost at a point where I can see a pathway to get there. Years of saving, living below my means, some fairly significant help from my parents, and a few key moments of good luck might just make this possible in the next year or so. Hoping to have more to say about this soon!

Alright, that’s enough for now. I’m always amazed at how much stuff happens over time, when day to day I’m pretty focused on the current thing. I like writing stuff like this to help zoom out and see a bigger picture. I’ll have to try to remember to do this more often, but if I’m honest it’s very likely that it will be several months before I get to it. Until next time!

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neonwizardheehee · 2 years ago

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okay so i’ve been following you for at least a year and witnessed you posting through at least one eurovision (and had mutuals posting through three- idk if you were one of them then or not) and uh. this is embarrassing. but what *is* it? is it like the oscars?? except with some songs as well? i’m utterly confused

Ohhh beloved mutual I am SO glad you asked :DDDD I love to talk about Eurovision B)

Eurovision is a Song Contest were different european + adjacent countries + Australia are sending in an artist who competes for their nation for the "best" song each year. The winner nation gets to host next year's Eurovision (last year Ukraine won and for known reasons they unfortunately cannot host such a large event and so UK is hosting). The winner is chosen 50% by jury votes from each country and 50% by the European public.

That's like the hard facts I'd say :3 The thing is the entries are sometimes bangers, sometimes bonkers and and sometimes the most boring stuff you've ever seen/heard - but it's always a wild ride! You see cultures and songs and lyrics from different countries, genres which is very cool! ALSO THE FASHION! As sb said on here Eurovision is how Met Gala should be" XD There are a lot of iconic looks and this year we'll get some funky ones so I'm already hyped to see them!

And ofc the music and the show itself!

Everything is basically a huge party that goes on for a week! Tuesday and Thursday night (morning for you I think?) are the semi-finals and Saturday is the Grand Finale! I can highly recommend to tune in and just enjoy the show while checking the memes on Tumblr. We're usually having a fun time on here live blogging, judging (jokingly) and hyping. :D iT's all fun and games and brings us together :D

Here's an introduction video which sums up the different aspects (little trigger warning for masks at 11:10 till 11:40 I think?)

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It's very queer and weird and a happy time!

#Hopefully this wasn't too much info #If u have any more questions feel free to ask #Also yes tw masks for some entries from the previous years just so you are aware <3 #tw flashing lights #Oh my i am soooo hyped for this year #I cannot wait ahhh <3 <3 #Let's celebrate again!! :DD #Eurovision

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sj0228 · 4 years ago

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astro notes for fun lol

HEY! this is my first astro observations post so don't be too hard on me lol unless u wanna then sure maybe i can improve them somehow BUTANYWAYZ this is for entertainment purposes only!! obviously these are just my own observations so if they don't resonate with you don't get offended or you're a big ol' 🅱️uss so here they are!! also SHOUTOUT TO MY AMAZING FRIENDS fyi i got sum help from them by asking them billions of questions to confirm my suspicions so uh hope that makes the observations more accurate LOL ANYWAYS HERE THEY ARE!! i'll probably make more in the future cuz i think they're super fun to make :D also if u couldnt tell uhm this isnt very professional im not professional BUT I TRIED TO MAKE IT PRETTY so pls dont be bothered lol im just doing this for fun i didnt even wanna make an astro page so yea </3pretty unreliable LMAOOO

👩🏻‍🦲 the house your mars is in is what pisses you off the most!! (eg. 1st - people assuming things about you, 5th - people beating around the bush, 7th - things that disrupt the harmony of your environment, 9th - the need to hold back your opinions because others get bothered by them being "offensive")

👩🏻‍🦲 cancers are true ambiverts and i've truly never ever seen a cancer who wouldn't be both introverted and extroverted at times. they are always either social introverts or quiet extroverts lol. or both!! (somehow 0_0) they enjoy people's attention, whether it's wanting to be noticed or appreciated or generally cared for, and they need their alone time. they tend to be very productive at those times, too.

👩🏻‍🦲 ok i have a lot of notes for cancers so it's gonna be a lot lmao sorry anyways!! i've also noticed they LOVEEE breaking loose every once in a while, if not every time they're given the opportunity! thing is, it's usually only if someone else is there to convince them or do it with them. they don't like taking risks alone! they are very impressed and fond of the 'wild child' persona people because they bring out the cancer's wild side!

👩🏻‍🦲 libra moons are absolutely loved by people, it's so crazy! like, no matter what they do they always have attention on them. this can manifest badly if the moon person is actually pretty horrible, things they do tend to be overlooked and others move on pretty quickly from their mistakes, letting them do whatever they want. i wanted to give an example but uh,,,,, i shall.. refrain😳

👩🏻‍🦲 libra suns with water moons are so scary when they're angry..

👩🏻‍🦲 cancer moon is what i deem as the zodiac sign cute-ifyer lol. literally any "tough" sign like capricorn, scorpio or aquarius becomes a super cute goofball with this moon. WEIRDEST THING EVER THOUGH is that it doesn't work for cancer suns?! like if a cancer sun has a cancer moon this just makes the person very confusing but very funny. they can brighten anybody's day without trying!

👩🏻‍🦲 okay uh this isn't an astro note as much as it is me being a phucken simp but uh..... I HAVE AN UNDYING LOVE FOR ARIES SUNS I WILL MARRY EVERY EACHAND ONE OF YOU ISTG. ARIES SUNS ARE THE NICEST AND FUNNIEST PEOPEL I'VE EVER SEEN YOU HAVE THE BEST HUMOR EVER AND YOU'RE SO KIND TO EVERYBODY YOU'RE SO KIND I LOVE YOU YOU'RE TOO GOOD FOR THIS PLANET I WANT TO HUG YOU FOREVER okay jbshxhjn but fr aries are the best people ever?!?!?!?!?!?! pls

👩🏻‍🦲 okay JUST SO THIS WHOLE ARIES MENTION ISN'T JUST A POINTLESS LOVE CONFESSION - i've noticed a lot of ♥aries♥ people use the laughing crying face emojis (😂,🤣) unironically and it's honestly.....the best thing ever

👩🏻‍🦲 taurus suns do this sometimes as well

👩🏻‍🦲 THE MOST UNHEALTHY PERCEPTIONS OF ZODIAC SIGNS ARE PUT ON FIRE SIGNS, NOT THE WATER SIGNS AND THIS IS COMING FROM A PISCES!!!!!!1 every stereotype is always showing fire signs as those sunshine of the group people, the baddies, and the ones with the biggest 'idgaf' attitude. and while this can totally be true sometimes, most of the time it's super different! sad fire signs break my heart pls i just wanna hug you guys T-T they have it the hardest because unlike water signs who are already expected to be emotional, they often repress their emotions for the sake of others and because of the fear of betrayal or judgement, or just generally the idea of "it's better to have fake friends than to have zero friends". YOU GUYS PLEASE. cut these people off from your life you deserve soo much better i know it can be super hard to open up for you u just need a hug omg EVERYONE PLEASE CHECK UP ON YOUR FIRE SIGN FRIENDS ASK THEM ABOUT THEIR DAY N STUFF THEY WILL APPRECIATE YOU CARING FOR THEM! pls stay best and take care sweethearts ily!!!

👩🏻‍🦲 i've also noticed that some of the signs tend to show their sadness through anger - this is not just astrology though so if your friend has been jumpy lately please just check on them they are probably going thru sth😳 anyways the signs i mostly saw this in are pisces, aries and libra.

👩🏻‍🦲 cancers with feminine moons (earth and water) tend to be pretty introspective. they often think they're the ones being mistreated, and while this of course might be true, in reality it usually goes a lonnng way back lol. they often pay very little attention to others!! (masculine moon sign cancers (fire and air) can often be too focused on others more than themselves) this can be good because they don't snoop in other people's business but oh my god, guys, please pay attention to your friends, too! this WILL lead to lost friendships because, let's be real, nobody wants a one-sided friendship with someone who only cares about themselves! i don't want to target anybody here but this is just a pattern i've noticed wayyyy too often, so you might want to look into it and if you think this is you all you need is just to enlargen your perspective and it will all be okay. but please, PLEASE. think about your friends

👩🏻‍🦲 i needed to get this^ out because people often put this on leo placements but tbh i notice that leo placements are THE MOST generous of the entire zodiac and they always think of others first and that's what really makes them so popular. they very rarely are as egocentric as everybody says, they're just really loving and that makes them very lovable!

👩🏻‍🦲 scorpio risings are the prettiest people i've ever seen. not even kidding bruh i could stare at them for EVER their eyes are absolutely gorgeous and their mannerisms are just perfect pls marry me

👩🏻‍🦲 gemini and taurus placements make an individual soooo chill to the point where it often makes them lazy and a biig procrastinator lol. tho i love how they make light of it by using their amazing humor!

👩🏻‍🦲 you most definitely have your IC be one of your family members' sun sign or one of their personal planets. i have a taurus ic and my sister is a taurus sun!

👩🏻‍🦲 sagittarius suns are the best huggers cause THEY REALLY NEED A HUG SO GO HUG THEM RIGHT NOW. pls guys why r u so sad..

👩🏻‍🦲 scorpio mars aren't even as sexual as everybody says tbh. but they definitely do have some interesting.....interests ;)

👩🏻‍🦲 pluto aspects to personal planets are very prominent, but very hidden. if you have them, most likely you will be the only person to know about this side of you and it can be pretty dark..

👩🏻‍🦲 planets conjunct your sun will be the people you attract most in your life (venus conjunct sun - taurus and libra, jupiter - sagittarius and pisces, mars - aries and scorpio EVERYWHERE)

👩🏻‍🦲 your moon sign will be the sun sign of most of your friends

👩🏻‍🦲 if you don't quite relate to your ascendant, look at the sign you have in your 3rd house and at your mercury sign. this is how you communicate, convey your ideas etc. and will often be a major factor in people's first impressions of you :)

👩🏻‍🦲 lilith aspecting your sun may mean there's a side of you nobody knows.. 👁👁 you're also probably very convincing and people can be very drawn to you and they can't explain why. this also goes for lilith in 7th, especially in girls!

👩🏻‍🦲 you and your friends probably have each other's sun signs as your personal planets!!

👩🏻‍🦲 the kindest person you know is probably either a virgo or an aries.. and the meanest person you know is also probably a virgo or aries LOL

👩🏻‍🦲 capricorn suns & risings are THE hardest to read!! if they don't say what they mean people will just assume and they're never going to be right it's wild 👩🏻‍🦲 also capricorns definitely have the most dad energy, while sagittariuses are more like actual dads jdbshxcvb

OKAY THAT'S ALL!!!! im sure i have more but its 2 am i have school tomorrow or actually its today now so bye uh anyways there will most likely be more so if u liked these stay tuned!! oh and let me know if they were true witchu :o thats it love u stay awesome and super cool i love u byebye!!

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naffeclipse · 3 years ago

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Song rec for the Sleuth Jesters Playlist! How do you feel about “Hand Me My Shovel, I’m Going In” by Will Wood and the Tapeworms as an Eclipse song? It gives very fun “fall from grace” narrative vibes in my opinion.

Also, really love your writing! I don’t re-read fan fiction very often, but I’ve found myself returning to your stuff either to read the entire thing again or one of the many well written character interactions. Speaking of character interactions, I just adore how you write your characters! They all ooze personality and charm! I am looking at Sun & Moon very respectfully. I am also looking at Eclipse respectfully, but in such a way that you can tell if he didn’t have so much influence and power in the criminal underbelly as well as being the city’s top #1 fire hazard/bruise giver, I would be very disrespectfully hitting him with a car. In other news, Vigilante!Y/N better watch out, because I will be promptly marrying them.

Anyway, to sum it up, the quality with which you display your creativity terrifies me. Have a good whatever time of day it is in wherever you are! :)

Ahhha, thank you so much! I'm so happy that you're rereading it, oh my gosh! I'm also floored that you enjoy the interactions and how I wrote the boys ♥ (You can keep Eclipse, Y/N doesn't want him anyways lol) Thank you, babe!

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As for this song, I was immediately hit with vibes for when Eclipse climbed through the ranks of a gang before leading his own! The slow descent and needing to go deeper each time, despite knowing that it's only going to cause trouble (pull him away from his brothers) but justifying it all the while because he needs to keep going.

Bottle, well, or barrel? All are empty Dug, or drank, or poured it out When too much is not enough there's plenty more Where that came from around

Looking up we see the point of entry Between where we are and we've been Looking down I could say Heaven sent me Hand me my shovel. I'm going in

#sleuth jesters #compliments that make me cry (out of joy)#sleuth jesters playlist

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continuing-studies · 2 years ago

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Go to Asia with your family: Today was a good day

Since departing with a baby and a toddler on a three month journey far away from home, a lot of people have been asking my partner and me what it's like to do all this traveling with two small kids. It's not just our friends asking. We've often gotten the same questions from people we've met while we're out and about wearing our kids on our bodies, carrying all their stuff, and doing whatever we've decided to do that day.

Like most aspects of having children, traveling with them is.... different. For a start, as two working people, neither of us is used to spending the whole day with our kids. As troubling as this may sound, that was actually what I was the most worried about before the trip. In Berlin we rely heavily on daycare to store positive parenting energy that can then be discharged in the afternoons and evenings when we see our daughter for the first time in 7 hours.

Turns out, spending every day together has mostly been really fun (phew). Looking after a 2 1/2 year-old and her baby brother all day is still a lot of work. The thing is, the hard parts really aren't that much different whether we're at home or somewhere else in the world. So while each day for us still typically includes its fair share of little kid problems, we've still been enjoying a lot of what travel typically has to offer. If you are the type of person who likes the experience of traveling (we both are, not everyone is and that's okay too!), doing it with your kids is just another thing about your life that changes when you have them.

This next post talks about the experience coming to terms with that realization while on a beautiful island in Thailand. Be sure to read until the end for the true story of what happened at the end of one of our beach days last month. I think it sums everything up quite nicely.

Sunday 12 February 2023

Koh Lanta

The great sage Ice Cube dedicated one of the most famous hip hop songs in history to the importance of appreciating when one has had a truly good day. A lesson to live by — especially when one’s days consist of looking after small children and all of their attendant hopes, dreams, and physical needs.

Going on a beach vacation with kids has necessitated coming to a new understanding of the word “relaxation”. To begin with, Zara and I aren’t really used to taking trips where the goal is do nothing. Before kids, it was common for us to fill a weekend or 5 day or 10 day trip with as many highlights as we could comfortably (and sometimes not-so-comfortably) see during the time available. Maya slowed us down a bit, but not that much if we are being honest. On the trips we've taken since she was born, we were consistently going on some adventure or another almost every other day. Partly out of circumstance, both of our trips back to the US with only one child have featured significant to-ing and fro-ing, as we try to pack in as much time with family and friends and other special people as possible. And the first month of this trip was like the Pakistan version of those visits to the US.

So as much as we were looking forward by the end of January to the promise of our month on this very relaxing island, I think it took us a few days to really come down. The same may well have been true for Maya and Camino. What I can say is that few things feel less conventionally relaxing to an adult than feeling irritable while cajoling a misbehaving toddler through a succession of beautiful and interesting places where you can’t stop thinking about how you really should be having a better time. For all the heroes out there who cast dirty looks at parents struggling to manage their kids in public situations, I can guarantee that no one is having a worse time than the parent who is the object of such foolish and undiscerning scorn.

After a few days of feeling this frustrating dynamic repeat itself (minus the dirty looks — people here are nice), I think a few things happened. First, I asked myself if I really wanted to be the person I was seeing myself become. Toddlers need boundaries, but at the same time I knew that we had to find an outlet for Maya’s physical energy that would be more fun than getting annoyed over and over at her frequent testing of limits. Second, I think we had to discover a good routine here. We started doing some "yoga" on the beach in the morning, which involved some actual yoga and a lot of redirected toddler energy, but overall it set a good tone for the day. Hanging out at the beach and doing yoga were two things that I was looking forward to about being on this island before we came here. Each day spent without doing yoga and without enough beach time therefore made me feel as if I was missing out, further fueling my cycle of being a grumpy papa on vacation.

Finally, I think it dawned on Zara and me that we had to accept the pace of this trip for what it is. I spent the first few days here feeling various additional levels of FOMO from looking around at all the interesting places to see on this island that would be either impractical or impossible to explore with our children at their current age. The best way to get around Koh Lanta is via motorbike, which plenty of families do but is not really something that we have a desire to try. We needed to acknowledge that against all of our previous traveling impulses, we would have to be okay with not doing as much on this trip and just be a little bit more strategic about what we do want to see.

Which brings me back to Ice Cube. Since adjusting our expectations of what we will manage to see and do while we’re here, we’ve discovered more of the charms of Khong Klong than ever. On Friday (maybe it was Friday?) we decided that our big adventure would be to walk slightly further down the beach to a slightly different beach bar with slightly different loungers and hammocks, affordably priced food and drinks, and all of the other key features of just about every beach bar in Koh Lanta. Zara had spotted this one a few days earlier after yoga and noted that the abundance of umbrellas would make it a good place to try if we wanted to go for a full day at the beach. So we left in the morning with all of our beach stuff in hand, and a plan to stay out as long as we were all still having a good time. I brought Maya’s backpack so she would have a place to take her nap in the middle of the afternoon. We prepared as many things for both Maya and Camino as we could possibly think of. And I gotta say it was a good day!

Maya is a lot of fun right now at the beach. She’s really into her sand toys, and loves filling the bucket with anything from sand to rocks to water to, naturally, a combination of all three. She also really likes going into the water with us, and so far it’s been a good place to teach her about some important boundaries. It would be interesting if there were any scientific information on how many times various guidelines about safety must be repeated to a child between the ages of 2 and 4 for them to reliably internalize it. But it’s been cute and reassuring to hear the way that Maya, who is repeating everything right now, repeats lessons like “watch out for rocks in the water!” and “only with mama and papa in the water!” to herself even when I am not putting her on the spot. In all, the combination of perfect sea temperatures and Maya’s general willingness to take safety guidance has made going into the ocean together a great experience that we can share. When I’m lucky, after we’ve been in the water for a while Maya will go play with her sand toys on her own and I can submerge my entire body in the waist-high shallows of the water while watching her from a distance. I keep hearing that parenting does get easier.

We went on like this for the entirety of Friday (?) afternoon - me getting into the water with Maya, us playing in the sand together, me washing off again in the ocean and relaxing while she busies herself with sand, us going into the water together again, walking back eventually to Zara after I’ve had enough and then letting them repeat the process together after a while. We had managed to score a great home base on two loungers underneath an overhang, where we were fully shaded until the sun started to dip over the western-facing sea in the mid-afternoon and gradually chased us back. All day we ordered a succession of fruit shakes and pad Thai and had a nice view of the comings and goings of this interesting beach. Camino, for his part, seemed to have an enjoyable day lying in the shade while playing with sensory toys and getting his bare body cooled off with water every hour or so. He got to go in the ocean a couple of times too. Like his sister, he seems to really enjoy water.

That night I brought Maya back from the beach far past her bedtime, carrying both her and the backpack (why?) and also pushing our stroller. Zara had gone home earlier with Camino, wearing him home in the wrap after he’d had some trouble going to sleep. Maya and I had stayed late at the place we had wandered to for dinner, running around with Nola and Juno and the nice Swedish-American kids that we met on the beach earlier that same day. By the time we walked up the hill to Pinky it was almost 21:30 and I was tired physically from carrying Maya and the stuff home for almost 20 minutes, but lifted by the adrenaline of a day where almost everything went right. We read books and had a nice bedtime together.

The next morning we continued our beach routine and had another really lovely time under the shade of a banyan tree at Meeting Point, the closest beach spot to us at the opposite end of Klong Khong. In the evening, we went back to the beach to get some barbecued tuna. We let Maya roam naked on the beach for awhile as she played with her toys. We ate at a table in the sand.

At some point I stood up and saw what looked to be a small brown turd. I immediately thought the worst, but Zara confidently reassured me that it was not from Maya. She pointed toward the three dogs from one of the beach bars that were running around. Both of our stress levels were starting to rise with the sound of Camino fussing from again being overtired. It must have been one of the dogs, she insisted. Zara said she was sure Maya hadn’t pooped on the beach. I thought it unwise to push back any further.

Clearly not fully sure of herself, Zara went to ask Maya if she needed to make poo poo. It was at this point that Maya pointed back in the direction of the turd and Zara’s adamant denial was overridden by the rapid realization that Maya really had pooped on the beach. She came back and told me the news. I tried not to gloat about being right. I was busy soothing Camino, so she was the one who had to use Maya’s toys to clean the turd from the sand.

Parenting. Sometimes you have a great day and sometimes your kid takes a poo on the beach. Sometimes, these two things happen in the same 24 hours.

What better metaphor exists for the experience of having small children?

#parenting #kids #traveling #travel #children #family #beachlife #thailand #asia #family vacation

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