#like you have to stay where the supervision is unless you have permission or a damn good reason to be elsewhere

[moredifferentthanusual]

Got to? I was always so confused that people on tv had all this indoors space just for eating. Was something wrong with the ground outside? Being inside during recess and lunch is a punishable offence in australia

i feel like high school/middle school sitcoms set the unrealistic expectation of being able to have lunch time outside

[yoonieper]

For the Birds— Part 2 | JJK

I want you to stay even though you don’t want me.

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader 

♡ Genre: angst, smut, future fluff, a hint of enemies to lovers~ 

♡ Rated: L for Loathe

♡ Series Warnings: Lots of smut (not always healthy), cheating, discussions of depression, this series includes Jk in a pretty toxic environment, degradation (not the sexy kind), manipulation, and overall Jk being in an emotionally abusive situation! 

♡ Chapter Warnings: Y/n and Jk tension, mentions of substance abuse (alcohol), mentions of Jungkook getting reealllyyyy drunk, <— throws up 😬, Jimin is best boy and the bestest friend but my man is ready to throw hands… 

♡ Word Count: 11.6k

♡ Summary: As the son of the CEO at Golden Tech, a marriage was arranged in the name of business. Jungkook really tried to make the most of his situation and be the best husband he could be, but no matter how much he tried, his wife just doesn’t seem to want him. Then you… you came into his life and his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

♡ Now Playing: Honsool by Agust D— see masterlist for full playlist! 

♡ Betas: Thank you so much to @illyrian-book-lover and @teawithhoneyandlemon for reading this part for me! If you’re interested in betaing a future part, dm me! If you're interested in becoming a permanent beta for this series please first click here and refer to 'details about the job' section for more details and dm for any questions you might have! 

♡ Author’s Note: This chapter is the calm before the storm, but we ain’t slowing down at all for part 3 >:) ~ Y’all can thank Smoke Sprite for this hehehe (it just came out when I wrote this)

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

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Seven months later…

Knowing what you know now, you felt bad that there was ever a phase in your life when you hated Jeon Jungkook. Hate was a strong word, you know that now, and you knew it back then too; but it was always the first word that would pop into your head whenever you’d think about the man. 

Ever since your first day at Golden Tech, he made your life working at the company an actual living hell. You loved your job, and you were dedicated to it a hundred percent. You had worked way too hard to get where you were to slack around. You were living your dream— you were still young, working a stable, well-paying job at a high-end tech company, you had great coworkers for the most part… There was nothing to complain about besides the person who supervised your department. 

That’s what made it so frustrating. 

And to make matters worse, it was probably for the dumbest of reasons. Sure, no one wants coffee spilled on them, you would have gotten a little mad if you were in that situation; but there was no need to make someone’s life miserable because of a simple mistake— for years.

It’s not like you purposefully ran into him. You both had just turned the corner at the same time and bonked into each other. It happens. Some of your coworkers said you should have gone to his office later and begged for his forgiveness, but you thought that was ridiculous because it had just been an accident. A simple, unintentional mischance that could have happened to anyone.

It’s also not like you didn’t try to apologize— you both ran into each other the very next day, and as soon as you saw him, you hurried to catch up to him to tell him how sorry you were; you even offered to pay to get his suit cleaned or replaced. Jeon Jungkook hardly paid you any attention as he said it was fine and walked away with his posse of executives following him. It was strange, but you hoped that it just meant that your first meeting was water under the bridge and things would be fine. If you knew what you were in store for, you probably would have quit right on the spot, but not before you gave him one good, firm slap on your way out.

No, your ambition clouded your vision each time Director Son would give you assignments straight from the boss himself, and it was always mountains above your coworkers. You wanted to believe he saw potential in you, that maybe this was just an initiation into the office and all the newbies were given more work straight from the Head Director himself to showcase their abilities. This was just a test, you kept telling yourself for far too long, and in the end he’s going to see just how capable you are, earning his respect like everyone else did at some point. There weren’t that many people who worked on this floor in comparison to the rest of the building. All the teams were on the smaller side, so you figured this was just a tight-knit department you needed to steadily break your way into.  

That’s how you kept yourself cheerful despite how it seemed like every night your workload would have you staying in the office until the wee hours of the morning trying to get everything done. 

Everything changed when you weren’t the newest employee in your department anymore. Jungkook was oh so welcoming to your hoobaes and would give them slightly less work before steadily building up to the overwhelming amount everyone was eventually given. It wasn’t great, but it was lightyears ahead of what you experienced during your first few months at the company.

You kept telling yourself that there had to be a reason. You never really spoke to him, there was hardly any opportunity to piss him off; surely there was more of a reason than the incident on your first day.

The next person who joined the department after you did, you slowly began to notice the difference from your initial few months, and at first you had tried to come up with this whole theory in your head that maybe he was flirting with the newest member of the team. She was pretty and a lot of the guys around the office talked about her. You figured your boss might be like them, just another man trying to get into her pants, and for some reason easing her workload was his way of flirting.

That theory quickly died when Taehyung told you he was married despite you both apparently being the same age. Then Hoseok started working at the company and was given the same special treatment as her. Jungkook was seemingly nice and welcoming to everyone else but you.

That’s where your… annoyance, turned into hatred, because at the end of the day, you knew this was all simply because you had ACCIDENTALLY SPILLED COFFEE ALL OVER HIS STUPID, EXPENSIVE ASS SUIT (you checked when you got home how much it would cost you to replace it. If he would have taken you up on your offer, it would have had you living on ramen alone for months) AND HE JUST WANTED TO MAKE YOU MISERABLE BECAUSE OF IT. 

And maybe, just MAYBE, if that was the only suit he owned, you would have understood his pettiness a little better. You have this one nice dress you splurged on when you found out you’d gotten an interview for Golden Tech, and if someone had messed it up, it would have taken a lot more than an “I’m sorry” for you to fully get over it. But every day your coworkers would talk about how expensive his suits were, all belonging to brand names guys around the office knew about and would rave over. They would stand around sighing about how handsome he looked and how they felt like they needed to pay him just for gazing upon his presence.

It was a little dramatic, and even though Jungkook was never around to hear it, you always thought it was just another way to kiss his ass a little harder, vaguely hoping for the chance he would hear and reward them for their willingness to bend over backwards for him. 

But that’s besides the point. One thing was clear from their words: Jungkook had money, and a lot of it, there was absolutely no valid reason for him to be that upset at you.

So you despised him. 

You hated Jungkook longer than anyone at the office did. At first, they just seemed confused whenever you would rant your troubles to them— saying things like, “he normally wasn’t like this.” But as months turned to years, Jungkook’s pettiness began spreading to all the employees who worked under him. You couldn’t say he was the best boss in the world when you first started working at the company, but as the days passed, he seemed to get that much more rigid, cold, and reclusive.

It probably hadn’t even been a full year after you started working at Golden Tech, when all the employees joined you in complaining about how annoying he was to work for.

You used to see him all the time walking around the office doing this or that, but later on, you only saw him arrive but never leave. There were many instances in which almost everyone on the floor was given so much work, that you’d all have to stay past your normal hours; way too many times than anything reasonable. All he ever did was work, work, and work, making sure everyone was going above and beyond their job description. It was excessive, so much so that some people in your department ended up leaving because their job was interfering with their personal lives too much.

To make matters worse, everyone was always on edge. There were rumors that some of the people who were fired over the years were let go because they weren’t able to keep up with his outrageous demands. Some of your coworkers said that they left his office in tears because he basically belittled them to the ground, calling them worthless, and many other unspeakable things. It was awful. You never knew if this was actually true or not, no one really did, but it kept everyone on edge to the point that the mysterious Jeon Jungkook was feared amongst most. But it didn’t really matter to you. 

You used to think you had a good understanding of him. All your coworkers who were brought into the department before you would always say he was this bright-eyed, sweet, eager to please kid who everyone had high hopes for. Jungkook had never shown any of this during the time since you’d been working here, so you honestly doubted their assurances. 

According to you, ‘Jungkook’ and ‘sweet’ couldn’t even exist in the same sentence.

Jeon Jungkook was just a spoiled, rich kid who had no real interest in Golden Tech. He seemed to have no idea how to be a boss, was a sadistic asshole who got off on making people miserable, and was just there, waiting until the CEO position was handed off to him just because of who his daddy was— which you were sure would result in the crash and burn of the whole company.

A few months ago, he literally just didn’t show up to work for a week without any sort of notice. This left your department scrambling because important deadlines were coming up. When Friday rolled around the next week and he still wasn’t back, people kept asking where he was because certain things couldn’t get done without him at the office. He was basically MIA, no one was able to contact him. 

Jimin had emailed everyone later that day because the complaints grew too loud. Jungkook apparently had been diagnosed with pneumonia earlier that day and wouldn’t be in for a while. An excuse, for sure, but that didn’t explain where he’d been for the last week. Maybe he was off vacationing in one of the many homes his family owned around the world, while your team was left scrambling during his absence.

But it seemed as though you were the only one who harbored any real hatred for him. 

Many girls around the office would still fawn over his handsome face, making you roll your eyes every time, because all they needed was one glance their way and they were squealing like schoolgirls. Was that really all it took for everyone to forget how awful he was? You didn’t get it, not even one bit.

Even your friend was somehow pulled into the allure. When you’d pass by him in meetings, despite Solmi oftentimes being the listening ear to your rants about how impertinent you thought Jeon Jungkook was, she would still sometimes gaze at him sympathetically; it was something everyone around the office occasionally did.

“Something’s just off.”

“He wasn’t like this before, he was such a sweet kid.”

“Maybe it’s just stress?”

They would always have an explanation ready. You never understood why, but you weren’t working there yet when he was still “nice,” and they also weren’t on the receiving end of his pettiness directly.

Someone might laugh at the fact that you were still feeling the effects of your little incident nearly two years after it happened. But no matter how hard you worked, how many times you tried to apologize, nothing you did was ever enough to make him forgive you. So you opted to hate him, and you used that hate to fuel your ambition even further. 

In some strange way, Jungkook’s pettiness ended up helping you in the long run. All that hard work you put in made the other executives notice you. Due to your previous experience at another big tech provider, you were quickly promoted to be the manager of one of the finance teams when the position became available.

That just helped open even more doors for you. It was only a few weeks after celebrating your second year at the company (October 6th, 2023, a little over 24 months after you were hired— not that you were bragging or anything), when Director Son informed you about the promotion. The associate director position became available due to her retiring; apparently, even while being relatively new in comparison to the other managers and on the younger side, they still believed you would be the best one to take over the position.

Of course you took it. You were only twenty-six and now the Associate Director of the financial team for the Seoul division at a trillion won tech company that was led by the CEO’s son. Again, not like you were bragging, but your resume was insane.

As nice as the high was, this… this is when everything changed.

See, some might call you strange that you hated someone so deeply when you barely even knew them. You honestly had no clue about him, you hardly ever saw the man besides during the very occasional meetings; but most of the time, he only met up with Director Son and the old associate director to get updates. You could probably use your fingers to count how many times you both have spoken to each other. Any time you’d normally communicate would only be over email, and it didn’t help how much he was in his office. The only things you really knew about Jungkook were that you both were the same age, that he was the CEO’s son, and supposedly, that he was married.

That's what most people knew about him, and of course there were probably tabloids out there if you ever wanted to learn more, but you never found the need to know anything else other than the basics.

That’s why when Jungkook called you into his office after your promotion, you were in for a rude awakening on the fact that you never really know what goes on behind closed doors.

The meeting itself wasn’t that eventful. Jungkook just wanted to elaborate more on your new role as an associate director and inform you about your new duties on the projects your team was currently working on. However, you ended up feeling differently than expected. 

You’d spent the whole morning preparing for your first meeting with him. You had coached yourself the day before on how to approach it— you weren’t planning to be rude, but maybe a bit passive-aggressive; just enough to set a boundary to be taken seriously and establish yourself as a professional, not just some pushover. 

You’d picked out your best ‘bad bitch’ outfit the night before— not for him— but to give yourself the extra confidence you needed to stand up to the person who’s been the bane of your existence for the past two years. You wore a tight, black dress with gold buttons detailing all the way down the front. It was probably the nicest thing in your closet besides the dress you bought for your interview. You paired it off with matching gold accessories and black stilettos with a cute gold heel. You couldn’t tell someone how long you spent working on your hair and makeup this morning trying to get that last level of perfection. 

It was all worth it though. When you arrived at the office that day, you held your head high as you made your way to your desk. A smile was plastered on your face as your heels clicked through the halls. Your coworkers were staring and whispering while you walked past them, the attention making your heart swell, because at the end of the day, you knew they were only saying good things.

It gave you a nice confidence boost, but as the time ticked away, it was obvious to your friends you weren’t as composed as you wanted them to believe. As the time of the meeting approached, Taehyung and Solmi tried their best to calm you down as you rehearsed what you thought would happen later.

“Grrr, I’m Jeon Jungkook, and I hereby bestow you this mountain load of paperwork.” Solmi said dramatically, as she shook a piece of paper in front of your face before setting it down gracefully on your desk.

You cleared your throat. “I’ll take care of these, Director Jeon. And as the new associate director, I hope we can establish a more compassionate relationship.” When you finished, you eagerly looked up at your two friends.

“Yeah, she’s going to get eaten alive.” Taehyung sighed, concern filled his eyes the longer he stared at you. Solmi shared the same worried look.

“Calm down guys, I think I got this.” You smiled as you turned to your computer and saw the time. There was only an hour left.

“Y/n, we’ll wait for you as close as we can. Scream if he tries to eat you.” Solmi said as she rested her hand on your shoulder.

You looked over at Taehyung, who seemed to grow more worried by the second.

“I’ll be fine. If anything, he should be more scared that I’ll eat him first.” You laughed a little too hard, but seeing the look on Solmi’s face made you realize that might not have been the best way to phrase it.

No matter the amount of smiles or jokes you shared with your friends, nothing could stop the anxiety from creeping in, it just made you even more terrified of what might happen later. You were worried if you’d even walk out of it still having a job (let’s just say you had a lot you wanted to say to him, but one wrong move would be enough for you to derail from your well-rehearsed script and finally spill that can of worms full of deep seeded anger).

When the time finally arrived, Secretary Yu told you Director Jeon was in a meeting and that you could have a seat in his office for the time being. You bowed at her words, but on your way in you couldn’t help but roll your eyes because of course he was late. You were so busy cursing him out in your head, it didn’t even register that you were in his office for the first time until the door closed behind you. 

You were shocked to find you weren’t greeted with a demon’s lair like what you had expected. His office was relatively modern, with lots of black furniture— it was sleek and expensive like everything he owned. There were a couple of plants sitting around that added a nice splice of greenery. His office also had a big window with a nice view to the right that overlooked the city. However, what you were most surprised to find were all the family photos sprinkled around the place.

There were some that sat on his desk but your eyes were immediately drawn to the three big pictures on the wall beside you as you came in. 

The one that sat right in the middle you were sure was a family photo of the Jeon family. You recognized the CEO sitting on a chair that almost looked like a throne. There was also a small, slightly older, beautiful woman who was dazzlingly dressed sitting on a stool next to him, holding his hand, and two boys stood behind them. One you instantly recognized as Jungkook, only a little younger— maybe college-aged, and standing right behind him was a man who looked like he could have been his twin. He stood maybe a few centimeters taller and shared the same face, except he had a few more of his mom’s features, his sharp eyes for example. You had to assume it was the brother you heard your coworkers talk about from time to time. On the other hand, Jungkook was nearly the spitting image of the CEO, only decades younger.  

What you paid the most attention to was their smiles. Everyone in the picture looked so happy, all big smiles that seemed to resemble the CEO’s. It felt almost strange seeing how happy Jungkook looked in the picture. You honestly thought he was incapable of smiling. 

It was like a whole different guy was in the picture.

When you looked at the photo that sat on the right, closest to where you stood, you were greeted by a very cinematic shot of Jungkook and who you could only assume was his wife on their wedding day. He had lifted her by her waist and they were lovingly staring into each other’s eyes, again with big smiles plastered on their faces. Jungkook didn’t look too much older than he did in the first picture, and his wife also couldn’t have been much younger than him. It made you wonder how long they had been together. As far as you knew, he was married even before you started working for Golden Tech. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-four, but just based on the picture, he definitely looked younger than that.

They must have really loved each other… You couldn’t imagine being married now, let alone years ago.

But everyone had been right, she really was pretty. How was he married? You couldn’t help but wonder how his wife was able to put up with his pretentious ass. You could barely deal with him and you hardly knew the man. 

You felt for her in that moment.

Furthest from you was a picture you could barely see, but it looked like another picture from their wedding day. Jungkook and his wife in her gorgeous dress were sitting down on a fancy ottoman and a bunch of other people stood around them. Some you could recognize from the Jeon family portrait, so you just assumed all the others must be his wife’s family.

Again, seeing how happy he was in the picture was a little uncanny. There was no way that was the same man who made your life at work so miserable.

Looking at the photos only became more unsettling when the door was bursting open and you were suddenly faced with the actual, present-day Jeon Jungkook. Your eyes immediately snapped onto his, your mind went blank as you tried to process the fact that he was standing there right in front of you. He was stuck in place, he seemed just as surprised to see you in the way his startled expression turned into shock and his wide eyes peered over you. You barely registered the fact that Jimin was standing behind him, too busy trying to calm yourself from a near heart attack. 

It was suddenly so obvious why Jungkook didn’t seem like the same person in the pictures you had just seen. He looked different. It wasn’t only the fact that he looked a little older, but his eyes…

He looked so tired, like he hadn’t slept well in months. The dark circles around his eyes deprived him of that same cheery persona he put on for the camera. And maybe this was just you reading into it too much, but you couldn’t help but think he also just seemed… dismal? It was strange, but if you weren’t trying to be on your best behavior, you would have advised him to take a nap before starting your meeting.

If that wasn’t enough, he was also visibly thinner. Like you could still see a bit of definition as he moved underneath his expensive suit jacket, but his slimmer frame didn’t seem to help and only made him look even more tired.

Your coworkers might have been right; maybe it really was the stress. How hadn’t you ever noticed this before? Had he always looked like this but you just never realized?

“Uh, sorry we’re late. We were stuck in a meeting that went on longer than expected.” Jimin suddenly said, finally breaking the silence and making you snap out of your daze. 

It was only then that you realized you had practically been staring down Jungkook. To be fair, you had never seen him this up close before, at least not close enough to actually look at him. 

You quickly bowed.

“I’m sorry! Secretary Yu told me to wait. I—” You panicked, realizing how strange this might look that you were just standing here right in front of the door.

Your eyes immediately locked onto Jungkook’s waiting for the annoyance to hit his features, any sign to point to the fact that you gave him another reason to hate you, but instead he just seemed dazed. Your eyes tried to follow his gaze wondering what he was staring at, and you were left a little stunned to see him looking over you.

Did he forget you were coming today? What was going on? You glanced down, worried something may have gotten on your dress earlier during lunch and he was about to criticize you for your unprofessionalism, but you were just left confused when you didn’t notice anything, and the silence continued for far too long.

“Ummm…” Jimin looked over at Jungkook when he still hadn’t said anything yet.

You shrugged, just as perplexed as he was.   

When Jungkook still didn’t say anything, Jimin, like the angel he was, eventually took it upon himself to reassure you it was fine and that you had just startled them.

You bowed and apologized once again, your cheeks burned under the weight of their gaze, but Jimin just smiled and told you yet again it was fine. His comforting words and smile eased your beating heart a little more as he ushered you over to Jungkook’s desk. Not wanting to make things any more awkward than they already were, you quickly made your way over to one of the cushiony chairs that sat across from the desk. The whole time you felt their eyes nearly burn a hole in your skull, your skin warmed with each step you took, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you messed this up already. 

You figured Jimin must have finally managed to get Jungkook to snap out of whatever held his attention so deeply, he eventually came back into view and sat in his own fancy office chair in front of you, and Jimin chose to stand right beside him. 

Jungkook awkwardly coughed once everyone got settled trying to fill the silence in the room, maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you swear you saw his cheeks start dusting pink as he looked at you.

This could not be the same demon you’ve worked with for two years. Jungkook could hardly meet your eyes, seemingly trying to look everywhere else but you. He looked visibly flustered and… shy? Who was this man, and what did he do with the Jungkook you thought you knew?

“I’m so sorry, I—… um, sorry we were late. It’s nice to see you Y/n.” He commented softly with a smile. No, there was no way this was the same guy.

After Jimin took a moment to congratulate you on your promotion (he told you to visit his office later for a surprise), the meeting carried on rather uneventfully in regard to your conversation. Jungkook didn’t eat you, nor did you ever need to whip out any of your passive-aggressive responses that you’d practiced. To be honest, you were only halfway paying attention to everything that was being discussed. 

Your brain was far more interested in just observing him, picking apart all the little details you never had the chance to notice in the past: 

He had a mole that sat just underneath his lower lip, and anytime he’d be thinking about what to say next for longer than normal, he’d bite into the flesh and then you could see the little dot right there on full display. He also had a scar on his cheek— you barely noticed it, but when the light hit his face at just the right angle, you could see the indention. Or how come you never realized that he had a slight lisp when he talked? It was slight, only making an appearance if he started rambling for a little too long; you wondered how you’d never noticed it before.

It was quite obvious early on into the meeting that Jungkook was not this scary, evil monster who hid away in his spooky cave. Jungkook would speak, there were moments when Jimin would jump in to help, they easily bounced off of each other, and in between the business talk, they would sometimes joke around with one another. You hated to admit it, but you found them a little cute as you watched them interact.

However, you still noticed that when Jungkook laughed, his smile never looked like the one in any of the pictures that sat behind you. His eyes wouldn’t crinkle, his top lip wouldn’t almost disappear, and that dimple that was on his left cheek never came into view— yes, he had dimples— multiple sets apparently that you had also never noticed.

If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he was faking it, but the one other thing you knew about Jungkook was that he and Jimin had been friends for a long time. Jimin had mentioned to you briefly during the few occasions you’ve talked that he’s known Jungkook since the younger was in elementary school; and it was clear during the meeting that they were close.

The more you looked at him, the more you grew concerned. He definitely seemed… off. It was the same feeling that you’d gotten all those years ago about your friend in high school. His eyes, you just couldn’t get over the look in his eyes. They held the same emptiness that your friend Mi-Sun’s did all those years ago. His hair had grown to almost completely shield his gaze, but you still noticed. 

In the past, his hair would normally be shorter and slicked back with a fresh undercut always on display. It was a few months ago when he seemingly started to grow it out. When he walked in, it was obvious he had been running his hands through it in the way the dark strands were pushed back. Yet as the meeting continued, more and more strands would fall into his face, and he would go back to hiding his sad gaze behind his hair. It almost reminded you of the same look he had that day you spilled coffee all over his suit— even then he seemed tired and sad, but now it was so much more blatant.

It was almost immediately that your harbored hatred for Jeon Jungkook turned into genuine concern. You couldn’t believe this was the same guy who’d have everyone on the floor staying overtime almost every single day.

That didn’t necessarily excuse how petty he acted over the years, you didn’t forget, but it did make you feel bad about how you let your emotions get the best of you. 

The fact that Jungkook was the same age as you and managed everyone that worked on your floor— being associate director of your division’s financial team already seemed daunting— but you couldn’t even fathom the stress that came with his position. 

“Y/n? Did you get all that?” Jimin asked, breaking you out of your daze.

“Yes-yes! I’m sorry.” You stammered, trying your best to recollect yourself. 

“Just wanted to make sure you got everything. We covered a lot.” He laughed, but you were too focused on Jungkook shying away from your gaze— his face was definitely a little redder than before. You tried your best to ignore the way your heart ached at the sight. 

You had to get out of here.

“Thank you so much. I’ll be sure to email you if I have any questions.” You bowed your head slightly at them. 

If things couldn’t get any weirder, when you looked back up at him, you noticed Jungkook was staring at you— again with those same sad eyes. It was on the tip of your tongue to invite him out for dinner, or to tell him that maybe it would be best to take the day off or something— anything to possibly help get back the cheeriness he had in the pictures behind you. But you knew you would be overstepping a boundary, and since you were so new to your position, you felt it was best to not take a chance; so, after a few more awkward goodbyes, you left his office.

“I have to get this done, he has to see that I’m—“ The door shut behind you before you could hear the rest.

Instantly you looked around for your friends, and like they promised, you found them awkwardly standing not too far away from Secretary Yu’s desk trying not to make it obvious they were waiting for you. As soon as they saw you, you knew they wanted to ask how it went, but instead you grabbed Tae by the hand and quickly walked down the hall, ignoring Solmi’s confused remarks as you sped past her.

“Taehyung.” You said alarmingly as you both walked. 

“What happened? Did he start yelling at you or something?” Taehyung questioned very seriously, looking back the way you both had just come from. Apparently, you didn’t respond fast enough because he ended up stopping you both in your tracks. You looked over at him and could see the way his expression had shifted, his face was etched with concern now, and the underlying anger was not hard to pick up on. 

“Y/n, what happened?” He asked far more sternly, grabbing you by the shoulder so you’d look at him. You couldn’t help but glanced down, noticing the way his other hand tightened into a fist.

“What? No— Just… What do you know about Director Jeon?” You quickly followed up with.

You could see the gears turning in his head.

“Huh?” 

“You’ve been here longer than me. What do you know about him?” You asked again, your gaze turned to worry as you looked back toward where Jungkook’s office was.

Taehyung was noticeably confused. “Why, what happened?” 

You sighed. “Nothing, I mean, we just talked but… I don’t know, he just seemed so… sad. It was weird.” 

“Sad?”

“You should have seen him Tae… it was like… I don’t know, he looked so tired.” You were honestly a bit worried. One minute you hated his entire existence, the next you found yourself seriously concerned for his well-being. 

It would be easier to hate him if he didn’t look like a kicked puppy.

The tension quickly faded from Taehyung’s features, he let his hand rest back down at his side and he breathed a sigh of relief. 

“I was wondering if you knew anything.” You questioned again when he hadn’t said anything, but Taehyung eventually shook his head. 

“I don’t have much to say, he’s always been a pretty quiet guy. I know nothing outside of what he does at the company, and that he’s married to that supermodel. Jimin would probably know, they hang out all the time.” 

You nodded while his words processed in your head. Taehyung was probably right, Jimin was the best person to talk to. You wanted to think there was a chance at the explanation being simple, like maybe he was having a rough day or something, but that didn’t stop you from being worried.

You had a feeling it wasn’t that straightforward.

“Yah, you had me scared for a second.” Taehyung breathed out a shaky laugh. 

“Why? You didn’t think I could handle myself in there?” You chuckled lightly, recalling how serious he got. 

“No, you’re perfectly capable. It was me I was worried about. I thought I was going to have to put my job and freedom on the line.” The way he said it carried that same comical tone, but there was something very serious as well in its implications. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he meant by that. 

You looked at him wide-eyed for a second, a bit at a loss knowing he’d be willing to go that far for you. Even in the worst-case scenario, you wouldn’t consider losing your job, and certainly not going to jail, over something like that. 

Taehyung returned your gaze and smiled at you, warm and reassuring as always, before you both finally started to hear the hurried clicking of Solmi’s heels making it around the corner. 

“Yah! Why did you guys just leave me?!” 

•────•──────────•────•

Jimin's role at the office made his life more complicated than it needed to be. Besides being Jungkook’s friend, his job also had him working a lot more closely with the younger in comparison to the other executives. He was the associate director to Jungkook’s position, and pretty much handled a lot of the grunt work. He would always step up to his friend’s role whenever Jungkook wasn’t in the building, and he was already in line to take over the next time Jungkook was promoted. Jimin was in great standing in contrast to others around his age, and he would always be eternally grateful to Jungkook and his family for giving him this opportunity. However, balancing the crazy workload Jungkook always asked of him— everyone in the department really, plus just trying his best to be there for his friend, was a task he sometimes questioned if he could manage.

Because of the way he bounced between being by Jungkook’s side and working with managers in the office, he was oftentimes caught in the middle of the drama and heard all the gossip and rumors that would go around. People in the department would complain, and there was some part of him that sympathized with their woes because his friend would really go off the deep end at times with his demands, but there was the other side who was still Jungkook’s friend. Jimin had to deal with Jungkook deteriorating right before his eyes, while simultaneously being subjected to hearing his colleagues badmouthing his friend, who to him, was clearly suffering. Jimin couldn’t even say anything. He was watching his best friend fall apart, and having people say the worst things about him, all without them knowing what he was going through, made it difficult to stand idly by and listen. 

It wasn’t even like he could tell them because even he didn’t truly know what was going on. 

Jimin had cherished the day Jungkook began opening up to him after he started to notice something was wrong. Just as Jungkook seemed to get more comfortable in sharing the issues he was dealing with in his marriage, at the beginning of the year was when those walls came back up thicker, higher, and practically impenetrable. 

Jimin had hoped that it meant things were getting better between him and Yuri, but it was painfully obvious Jungkook was just getting worse and worse as the days went on. You weren’t the only one noticing how much he changed. Jimin was by his side the entire time as he saw firsthand how life continued to drain out of him as the days went by. 

Jimin had seriously tried his best to be there for him, but no matter what, Jungkook continued pushing him away. He would brush off any of his concerns and drown himself— and everyone else around him—  with work.

It was hard to watch.

Jimin could never forget what happened a few weeks ago. He came to work early on Jungkook’s birthday to drop off a gift with the hope to surprise him later when he’d come in, but instead was nearly scared shitless once he opened the door and turned on the lights to find Jungkook passed out at his desk. There was a bottle of vodka and enough empty cans of beer covering the surface to almost shield him from view and encase him in completely.

Jimin had known Jungkook was going to stay overtime the day before, he’d even seen the beer he brought in, but he brushed it off thinking he was simply restocking the mini fridge in his office. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of them to share a drink together after hours, a good beer was always the perfect remedy to wash away their stress. However, it was obvious from the overturned box that he’d drunk the entire pack all by himself, plus the vodka he had no idea Jungkook even had in here. 

That was not it. As Jimin looked around his office, he found another box had been opened, and he wondered if it had fallen off his desk because of the way the cans were sprawled across the floor (definitely less than the twelve that came in the pack). As Jimin steadily got closer, he noticed one of the cans was tipped over beside him, the sticky liquid pooling on his desk, like he’d passed out with the drink still in his hand.

It was a concerning sight to say the least, and nearly gave him a heart attack as he hurriedly rushed over to make sure his friend was ok (alive). His mind raced with the worst thoughts possible as he tried to shake him awake.

Jimin had planned the whole day out to give his friend the best 26th birthday in the history of birthdays. What was supposed to be the start of a celebration turned into a nightmare when Jungkook didn’t immediately wake up. It was honestly a miracle he did. It took some time; it was like the universe itself had slowed down as he waited for something, anything. Tears had welled up in his eyes, Jimin had been so close to calling 119, when in a fit of desperation he slapped Jungkook’s back a little too hard. That was apparently enough to finally get him to stir awake.

“Owwwwww…” Jungkook moaned, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to reach back and rub the spot where it ached.

Jimin had a lot to say, most of which he figured went in one ear and out the other since Jungkook was clearly still drunk. He hated nagging, especially when his friend was out of it like that, but he really had scared him. Jimin pulled him into a hug as he went on and on about how stupid he was.

“Why you soooooo loud?” Jungkook whined, pulling out of Jimin’s arms and laying back down on his desk.

“Because— Jungkook, have you not been listening? Do you know how much you drank?!” Jimin nearly yelled pointing to all the cans and the vodka bottle that practically covered the desk.

“Shhhhh! I ne— have wake up for work later… I’m trying to sleep…” Jimin found it hard to understand him because of the way his words slurred together, like somehow he could understand that.

“Didn’t efen dink much.” Jungkook mumbled, as if it was any other Friday, and Jimin was being overdramatic.

As much as he could have kept the battle going, Jimin made the executive decision that there was no way in hell Jungkook would be able to work today, let alone ride along for his birthday surprise. He was better off trying to sleep this off.

Somehow Jimin was able to get him downstairs, but by the time Jimin was sitting him down in the passenger seat of his car, his arms ached, and his whole body screamed in fatigue. He was stuck carrying Jungkook’s entire weight all the way from his office to the elevators, where he needed to wait for the elevator to go up twenty stories, before going back down those same twenty stories, and then truck through the entire parking garage because his dumbass thought it was best to park in his usual spot, all the way at the far end.

Jimin wanted to be annoyed, he wanted this to just be a one-time thing that they both could laugh about in the future, but there was definitely something wrong. Something was wrong all the time, but there were too many signs for this situation to be passed off as just a “rough night.”

This wasn’t his first time carrying Jungkook. Jimin liked to occasionally pick him up to emphasize “just because you’re taller, doesn’t mean I can’t still swing you around,” mainly to show off his efforts in the gym— but Jimin could tell over the months, years even, that his friend had grown lighter. With the way he needed to carry him, his arm wrapped around his waist, he could really tell just how much thinner he’d gotten. 

And there still was the question of what made him drink so much…

Jimin’s head was swirling with worry as he got in his car, wondering what he should do from here. He’d considered taking Jungkook to the hospital, he had no idea how much he really drank, but the fact he was able to make it downstairs he figured meant he was ok enough to sleep this off, hopefully. 

He sighed and turned over to Jungkook who was already passed out beside him. Jimin reached over to open his suit jacket and fished out the phone in the pocket he’d placed it in. Somehow the facial recognition still worked with Jungkook’s passed-out face, and Jimin was able to pull up his contact list.

Yuri 💞

Jimin rolled his eyes seeing the hearts next to her name knowing how fake that emoji was.

“It’s like we’re a real couple now…” Jungkook had nervously chuckled that day he changed Yuri’s contact in his phone— merely hours before his engagement party.

How Jungkook hadn’t ended up changing it was beyond him. 

Yuri 🖕🏻was more appropriate in his opinion.

Jimin took a deep breath before he hit the call button. Now, Jimin loved using the word hate when it came to Yuri. While he wasn’t aware of all the details of their relationship, Jimin just knew deep down she was the reason for Jungkook’s rapid decline— maybe it’d been her fault he drank so much. 

It took a couple of rings, but Jimin was thoroughly surprised she actually picked up.  

“What—“

“Yuri, it's Jimin.” He was quick to interrupt her.

There was silence over the line for a while, like she was trying to remember who that was.

“Jungkook’s friend… coworker—“

“I know that— what— why do you have his phone?” For a split second, he believed she sounded a little concerned.

“I thought you would know— how did you not notice he didn’t come home last night?” Jimin was seething the more he thought about the possibility that this was somehow connected to Yuri, but he tried his best to keep himself calm for Jungkook’s sake.

“He told me he was working late.” She put it so plainly. 

“And you just let him? You do realize today’s his birthday, right?” Jimin just rolled his eyes as the silence continued on the other line. At the moment, the pieces seemed to click in his head. Was it the fact Yuri clearly forgot his birthday the reason Jungkook practically drowned himself in alcohol?

Maybe… maybe it wasn’t, but maybe it was, and that possibility was enough for him. Jimin had to take a couple of deep breaths to stop himself from screaming at her, but once again, he calmed himself down. Today was not the day for this.

“Anyway, Jungkook got really— really drunk last night, and I’m worried about leaving him alone. If you’re not already there, could you meet me at your apartment and watch over him? I would do it myself but I have work in an hour so—“

“Can’t you just put him on the bed or something? I don’t think he needs a babysitter—“

“Yuri, I don’t think you understand, he’s really—“ But before he could finish, Jimin suddenly turned to see Jungkook hurriedly pushing open the door. He couldn’t even question him before it became obvious that the nausea, which had made the whole journey downstairs that much harder, had finally taken its toll.

Jimin set the phone down and reached over to rub his back lightly. He tried his best to ignore the unpleasant sounds and the dry heaving that went on for a while; his heart ached seeing his friend’s pitiful condition. Things only got worse when it finally seemed to be the end of it, the sounds of soft whimpers started to fill the growing silence. 

“Hyung… I’m so sorry.” Jimin hardly caught it, Jungkook was so quiet and his voice was a little hoarse.

“Jungkook—“

Jungkook sat up and hesitantly faced him. His eyes were red and his cheeks were stained with tears that flowed harder the longer he looked at him.

“Hyung, I’m so sorry.” Jungkook just sobbed. 

“It’s fine, please don’t—“

“This is so fucking embarrassing, I’m so sorry, this is so pathetic, I—I—“ 

“Jungkook, you're not pathetic,” Jimin interjected, trying his best to keep strong.

“Fucking threw up in the parking lot— can’t get much worse.” Jungkook choked out.

“It could be, don’t say that because this could get so much worse.” Jimin had a few ideas, mainly in the fact that he could have been stuck riding in an ambulance worried for his friend’s life. “By the way, are you ok? I was going to take you home, but we can stop by the hospital to make sure you’re ok if you need it.”

Jungkook lazily shook his head. “Just take me back to my office, I have to work—“

It was then that Jimin started the car. “Don’t even think about it, I’m taking you home.” Jimin buckled the both of them in and started making his way out of the garage.

“Can— hyung, can you go slower?” Jungkook mumbled, leaning back in his seat.

“Do you still feel sick?” Jimin grimaced as he briefly worried about his car’s freshly cleaned interior.

“Yeah,” just the mention of the word seemed to make him nauseous all over again. “My head hurts too—“ They finally made it out of the garage, the morning sun quickly filled the car. Like a vampire in disguise, Jungkook groaned and tried to duck away from the rays floating in.

“I’ll be gentle— luckily it’s early enough so there isn’t too much traffic, we should make it to your place soon.”

There was silence for a little while. In the moment, Jimin remembered the fact he’d never hung up the phone with Yuri, but one quick glance down, and he saw she’d left. All he could do was hope she’d be there.

“Hyung, I feel like so much shit.” Jungkook slurred. He’d closed his eyes, hoping it might help ease the nausea or how much his head pounded with every bump or slight turn in the road, but it wasn’t helping at all.

“Mmm I bet, get ready for the worst hangover of your life.” Jimin tried to joke, but all he got was a choked sob in return.

“It’s what I fucking deserve.” Jungkook blubbered as he looked out the window, tears quickly filled his eyes before they started falling uncontrollably. “Can’t make her happy, just want to make her happy! Hyung she’s so miserable, and it’s all my fault!” The breakdown had come out of nowhere, but it had Jungkook in its grasp and had no plans of letting him go.

Jimin had no idea what to do. They’ve had so many talks about it at this point, but Jungkook never went into enough detail for him to ever be able to really help him. Even while drunk, Jungkook seemed to keep the details about what was going through his head locked away, never to see the light of day.

“Jungkook…” Jimin reached over and rested a hand on his thigh.

“Are you ok?” The question lingered in the air in between Jungkook’s sobs. The more Jimin’s question seemed to dawn on him, the more distraught he became.

“And I mean this seriously, like clearly you’re not fine, but are you… fine?” Jimin had hoped he’d answer. A simple ‘no’ would have been a step in the right direction, but he said nothing, letting the tears stream down his face suffice for an actual answer.

“Because if something is wrong, you know you can talk to me, right? Anything, it could be anything that’s on your mind.” Jimin looked over at his friend as they approached a red light, taking a moment to realize just how pitiful he looked. His suit jacket had been thrown in the backseat, his tie was barely hanging on, his face was red and covered with tears, and Jimin had to stop every two seconds to help try and ease the nausea.

“I can’t lie, I’m really worried about you. If something is bothering you, please know you can tell me anything.” Jimin was trying not to get emotional, but he’d never seen Jungkook like this in all the years he’d known him. Ever since she came into his life, everything had gone to shit. He knew all of this was her fault and Jungkook’s decline was too painful to watch. 

Jimin was worried, so fucking worried actually, that he feared every time he’d leave his friend’s side. While all of this could just be ruled as some random drunken breakdown, Jimin knew it was a small window into what was going on inside his friend’s tormented mind.

“Please say you’d tell me Jungkook…” Jimin gently shook his leg, desperately wanting the reassurance that if things were as bad as he feared, that he’d say something. 

When Jungkook’s sobs stopped, Jimin hoped he’d give him an answer, but instead, he watched as Jungkook leaned up, and grabbed onto the dashboard while attempting deep, steady breaths.

“Hyung…” His voice was quiet yet pained. 

“Yes?” All Jimin wanted to know was that he’d say something. 

“Pull—“ A couple more deep breaths “Please pull over…”

It took a second for the words to register. “Wha— why—“

“N-Now!” Jungkook tried to emphasize as he quickly had to put his hand over his mouth.

Luckily for the both of them, there was an opening on the street up ahead. Before Jimin could question it any further, Jungkook was already stumbling out of the car and toward the trash can that was on the street corner.

Jimin never got that reassurance he needed, not that day, or any other day afterward. He wondered if Jungkook had heard him at all.

When Jungkook got back, he was crying all over again about how pathetic he was, the cycle starting anew. But it only took about two minutes before Jungkook passed out once again, and he was asleep until Jimin was shaking him awake when they’d finally made it to his apartment. 

The journey upstairs was just as difficult as going downstairs at Golden Tech. Jungkook had sobered up a little, but Jimin, once again, was stuck carrying him to the elevator. His exhaustion, the nausea, his head, everything really, made it hard for Jungkook to stand. Slowly but surely, they finally made it up to his door.

Jimin had hoped when they arrived that Yuri would be there. He knew, despite his own feelings, how happy it would have made Jungkook at that moment, and it was the least she could do after everything. He wanted to think maybe, just maybe, she’d show up, especially after Jimin had to remind her that it was her husband’s birthday. He hated the fact that he had let a glimmer of hope spark. Deep down he wished that his conversation with her earlier was all just an act to not spoil Jungkook of a surprise waiting for him back at their apartment. Even if that wasn’t the case, he still hoped that she would at least be there. But after Jimin punched in the code and opened the door, the apartment was just as empty as it normally was.

He couldn’t even say that he wasn’t surprised.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Jungkook had somehow found the strength to wiggle out of Jimin’s grasp. Free from his hold, Jimin watched as Jungkook started clumsily wrangling out of his suit jacket Jimin had put back on him earlier. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight and went over to grab Jungkook’s phone out of the jacket pocket.

Yuri had texted since they came up.

‘Sorry, won’t be back ‘till late. Busy.’ It was short, blunt, and to the point.

Yuri wasn’t coming.

Jimin sighed. He didn’t know why he was expecting anything different; she couldn’t even be by his side when he had pneumonia. Maybe it was for the best, he didn’t trust Yuri alone with his friend anyway.

“Hyuuuunnggggg…” Jungkook whined. Jimin finally looked up and noticed he’d stripped all the way down to his boxers.

“Is Yuri coming?” He asked as he flopped onto the couch.

“You know, the bed would be better…” Jimin chuckled lightly before walking over to him. He grabbed the throw that was draped over the couch and fluffed it over him.

“Too far…” He grumbled into the leather.

Mmm, of course.

“Hyung— Yuri…?”

“She said she’s busy.” Jimin tried to maintain a soft smile as he saw the disappointment settle in Jungkook’s eyes.

“Of course she is…” Jimin hated the way he saw Jungkook’s lip quiver. 

“It’s ok, I’ll stay by your side.” Work was out of the picture, Jimin knew better than to leave him alone when he was like this. “You know, I had this whole plan today to celebrate your birthday.” Jimin suddenly remembered he’d left Jungkook’s present back in his office, he forgot to grab it on his way out. “We can bring the celebration here though. I could start it off by making you breakfast—“

Jimin turned around to see Jungkook already fast asleep.

Not much happened that day, Jungkook didn’t wake up until the sun was setting. In that time Jimin had made a quick trip back to the office, both to tell everyone Jungkook was sick and wouldn’t be at work today, and to grab that present he had left.

Jimin went the extra mile with it, hoping the right gift would help put that pep back in his friend’s step. He was honestly very worried about the present as he prepared it, he couldn’t help but wonder if Jungkook would like it as much as he hoped. What he didn’t expect was Jungkook’s teary reaction through his bleary eyes (despite the fact that he’d slept for the last 12 hours), as he peeled back the wrapping paper.

“You used to play all the time back when we were in high school and college, maybe getting back into it would be good for you.” Jimin smiled.

Sitting on Jungkook’s lap was the box of a new, sleek, black, custom-made electric guitar— the exact one Jungkook had told Jimin so many years ago that he wanted to buy when he started earning a good amount of money. 

“This… hyung what I would give to play this, but… Yuri hates it when I’m loud, I don’t think she’ll let me play it.” Despite his words, Jungkook continued to stare at the picture over the box, letting his hand lightly run over it.

Jimin couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the mention of that woman, tired of her always coming in the way of everything. “Well fuck her! Don’t let her stop you, she’s not even here right now. Please~ I wanted to see you play before I leave.” Jimin should have been a little more cautious with his words considering who he was talking to, but at the end of the day, he meant every word.

Fuck her!

Jungkook’s face dropped, looking less than pleased.

“Hyung, thank you so much for staying here with me today— and for the present, but maybe it’s best if you leave.” Jungkook suddenly sounded very serious as he spoke.

“Huh? What, why?” Jimin was confused at the sudden change in mood.

“I know how you feel about Yuri, but I don’t appreciate you speaking about my wife like that—“

“But Jungkook, you can’t possibly—“

“Leave hyung! Go— please just go!” Jungkook demanded, looking more pissed than ever.

In the silence that followed, this was when Jimin began getting angry. The longer he stared into Jungkook’s eyes, the more he couldn’t believe this was happening. How could Jungkook be choosing someone who hardly paid him any attention over the person he’s been able to count on and has known since he was in elementary school? 

“I can’t believe you’re fucking kicking me out and sticking up for the bitch who couldn’t even be here with you on your birthday.” Jimin angrily mumbled as he got up to put on his shoes. It was a low blow, Jimin could have phrased it a little differently since he knew he was hitting a sensitive topic. It wasn’t fair to Jungkook, but that was the only thing he regretted.

The silence that settled in the room was painful.

“I swear if you’re not out the door in five fucking seconds, I will end you!” Jungkook said slowly through gritted teeth, giving Jimin a glare that he was sure he would never forget in his life. He’d never seen Jungkook so mad, never thought it was possible to make him that mad, and it was over Yuri? 

Five seconds was too long before he heard Jungkook’s hurried footsteps behind him. It was probably only because of the haze of the hangover still weighing Jungkook down, that Jimin was able to grab his shoes, quickly slam the door behind him, and walk away unscathed.

Things just weren’t the same after that.

How could they be?

It’s like Jungkook was pushing him away, and as much as Jimin tried his fucking best to be there for him, he was only human and feelings got in the way sometimes. He regretted leaving that day, with how things played out, anything could’ve happened considering the way Jungkook had been acting lately.

Jimin seriously thought pushing Jungkook to seek professional help would be enough to bring his best friend back— he’d been ecstatic when Jungkook told him he was finally going to therapy, but it seemed that after the first session, he never went back… at least if he did, Jimin didn’t know about it.

Things were bad, probably worse if he knew the whole story. But that— that is exactly the reason why it pissed him off so much every time his coworkers would complain about Jungkook. How could they not see? It was plain as day that something wasn’t right.

That’s why when you came to his office later for your surprise (he gave you a celebratory bottle of expensive champagne) and asked him about Jungkook, it was like a breath of fresh air.

“Director Park, I hope this isn’t weird to ask, but—” 

“Did you have a question?” He interrupted, fully expecting this to be about your new position. 

“No— well, yes, but everything is clear from the meeting. It’s just—” You played with the bottle in your hands, trying to find the right words. 

“Director Jeon— is he… is he okay?” You seemed genuinely concerned, leaving Jimin too stunned to speak for a second.

See, Jimin didn’t hate you, but he knew— everyone who worked on this floor knew— that you didn’t like Jungkook, at all. Your reasons were a little understandable, considering the way his friend had treated you since you started working here.

Jungkook had no reason to target you because of a mistake you made years ago. Even Jimin had no idea why he was being so petty about it, considering he was normally an easygoing guy. He knew Jungkook didn’t hate you, but he could never pinpoint why he treats you like that. 

“Jimin?” You questioned when he continued to stare at you.

“Yeah, I’m fine… um, you’re asking about Jungkook?”

You nodded. “I don’t know during the meeting… sorry, I might be overstepping, but something just seemed off.”

Jimin continued to stare at you, a little unsure of what to say. He wanted so badly to tell you— honestly, he was just happy you noticed— but…

Even he didn’t know what was going on anymore.

•────•──────────•────•

Jimin never gave you a straight answer. He dodged it entirely actually, not at all calming your nerves about your strange meeting. 

You went home that day with Jungkook on your mind, but not like how he usually was— with you cursing his entire bloodline. No, instead you found yourself wondering what he was doing.

Did he eat today?

Was he sleeping alright? 

Anything to write off today as just a bad day, but as the days turned into weeks in your new position, your concern never lightened up. The more time you spent working closer to him, the more you began seeing all the signs you did back then in high school with Mi-Sun. 

It was like it was happening all over again. It took an attempt for you to fully realize what was happening the last time, but you saw the signs back then just like you did now. Something was wrong, very wrong actually, but every time you met one-on-one, you never found it in yourself to ask him directly how he was doing.

Do you still hate Jeon Jungkook? No, and you hate to say you ever did. Would you whine every time he gave you 15 billion tasks to do in one day? Yes, you did every time. But it was clear he must be dealing with a lot, so you just started keeping your complaints to yourself.

Now nearly a month into getting your new position, you had enough things on your plate to deal with other than whining 24/7 about your workload. 

Today you had to lead a meeting in Director Son’s absence. The drastic drop in temperature had been enough to due him in and he’s been out sick all week. It was at the worst time too, everything was ridiculously hectic because of the holiday season coming up.

Without Director Son here, you were basically the acting director. You’ve been scrambling with all the shit that was being piled into your lap, but you tried to keep a brave face.

This presentation nearly made you collapse. It was a big meeting, and Director Son only gave you a few days to prepare after he let you know he was probably going to be out for a while. But you smashed it, because that’s what you always do. You couldn’t help but smile when you earned a round of applause after you concluded the last slide, and breathed a sigh of relief as soon as everyone slowly started getting up and leaving the meeting room. 

It was finally over…

You went to go pack up your stuff when you suddenly felt someone tap your shoulder. Lo and behold it was him, Head Director Jeon.

“Y/n.” Jungkook seemed nervous as he nodded over at you.

You bowed. “Hope you enjoyed my presentation Director Jeon…” You quickly panicked, worried this conversation was going to be about that.

“Yes, you did great— you always do…” He smiled at you. You were a sucker for compliments, but in the moment, it completely went over your head.

“No, actually this is about tomorrow. Usually, I’d do this with Director Son, but since he’s not here, I was hoping you’d be able to fill in for him.” He seemed even more nervous.

“That’s my job.” You put it matter-of-factly.

“Right, yeah, you’re right.” He chuckled nervously. “Um, tomorrow, as you know, things are pretty crazy these days… I have all these documents to go over for the budget presentation we have coming up for next quarter. Would you be available to stay late with me and go through all the details?”

Oh?

“Of course.” You said not putting much thought into it. You stay late most days anyway.

For some reason, he seemed to tense up even more.

“Good… um… make sure to get a good night's rest; tomorrow might be a long day.” He pointed out.

“Hmm?” 

He already knew what you were going to ask. “This could be an all-night thing… sorry to put you in this position— Director Son and I—“ 

“It’s fine sir. I’ll be there.” You said through gritted teeth, trying your best to force a smile. You didn’t want to be here all night; you were already exhausted as it is and now there was no chance you could agree to any of Solmi’s Halloween plans.

The holiday was tomorrow, and she had wanted to whisk you and Taehyung away to Itaewon for a night full of bar hopping to all the places that were hosting parties in the area. She had pleaded for you to consider it even though you already told her how busy you were. You had honestly been thinking about it, it could have been a night out to de-stress from all that was on your plate, but there goes that opportunity. At least if you didn’t go, you could have been home catching up on sleep, relaxing, anything really but be here. And with Jeon Jungkook?

You regretted saying yes so fast.

“Ok— great… um, again, that was a great presentation. See you tomorrow.” It was an awkward goodbye, but that’s how most of your conversations went, so you didn’t dwell on it.

As the door closed behind him, you took a second to breathe, and enjoy the silence of the meeting room. In that peace, you realized a detail your brain completely skipped over.

You were working overtime with Jungkook. You were going to be alone… together.

Suddenly you felt yourself getting a little nervous. 

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[queentala]

Some time ago, @manonblackbeakquidditchteam13 asked under one of my posts: What do you think Gavriel's rules are? Liek I know you wrote about how with Rowan he doesn't let you cum without permission but what would Gavriel's be? Pretty please could you write about punishing angry Gav? 😭👀💞

So like I promised, here are some short headcanons for Gavriel's rules.

Gavriel is not a harsh dom, he has few rules that apply to your sex life, but also to your every day routine. And while he's wrapped around your finger and is willing to make everything to make you happy, with his rules he's really strict. He gives you a lot and in return he simply expects you to listen to him, so when you start acting bratty, well... His softness disappear.

But, to the point.

Gavriel has two types of rules:

Hard rules:

First of all, absolutely no talking back. When Gavriel asks you to do something, he expects you to do it without complaining.

Rolling your eyes at him will get you straight to your bedroom where the punishment and angry Gavriel will be already waiting for you.

Masturbating is strongly forbidden.

Touching yourself in intimate places to bring yourself pleasure is not allowed without his permission and supervision. When doing so, you have to listen to his orders unless given permission to do whatever you like.

During sex you are expected to keep good manners. Say thank you when receiving a reward, ask for permission before doing something without direct order, apologize for your mistakes and misbehaving, use the correct title that is currently used in your bedroom after address/answering Gavriel.

Punishments are always for a reason, not for fun. If you're being punished, it means you deserved it. Don't try to run from them, take it and apologize.

The punishment is not over until you acknowledge your mistake and apologize.

Teasing your mate is not forbidden, but it will backfire on you twice as much (especially if it happens in public place). You're doing it being well aware of the consequences.

Don't stifle your moans, be vocal.

No wriggling during punishment, cockwarming, bondage, and in other situations when told so.

Be patient. Whining is also not allowed.

Soft rules:

Every single time, when you are uncomfortable, scared, overwhelmed - speak up! Don't be afraid to use your safe word. Be vocal with your thoughts, don't do anything if you're not sure.

You are obligated to take care of yourself and don't resist when Gavriel takes care of you. By taking care he means: eating and drinking proper amount of food/water during the day, get enough sleep, walk/stretch/exercise, and make time to relax and engross in your hobbies.

No walking alone after dark. Always tell someone where to look for you before going out.

No talking to/staying away from strangers (men, women are allowed) without Gavriel or other thrusted person somewhere near.

Don't be afraid or ashamed to tell Gavriel about your sexual fantasies or new things you'd like to try out. He's willing to do everything that brings you pleasure (of course if it's safe and won't cause you any harm).

Tell him about your concerns, worries, problems. He's here for you and doesn't want you to struggle alone.

Always remember he loves you the most in the world ❤️

I hope this little something is satisfying enough for now. It's not a fic but I'm working on them and hope to post something bigger in near future. (Not earlier that may 4th bc I'll be in Italy and won't have internet but after that 😉)

[anxiousnerdwritings]

yandere platonic headcanons for Lady Dimitrescu would be fun to read? 🦦💗

— for the yandere platonic Lady Dimitrescu, could you maybe include her daughters too? 🦦

Yandere Dimitrescu Family Headcanons (platonic)

Somehow you garnered Alcina’s complete and utter attention. Maybe you were a curious soul from the village who ventured too far into unknown territory, resulting in you ending up in the clutches of the Dimitrescu family. Or maybe you were nothing but an innocent baby who Mother Miranda entrusted to Alcina, only for her to form her own intense attachment towards you.

Either way, you are Alcina’s now and she and her daughters have no intentions to ever allow you to leave them. You’re family and family always comes first.

Alcina Dimitrescu

You would become the apple of Alcina’s eye. You’re her baby now, her world and she has no plans to ever let you go. She’ll absolutely love and adore you. You won’t ever have to go with out. She will give you anything and everything you could ask for, just not your freedom or own free will. But that’s alright! Who needs free will when you have mother who would do absolutely anything for you.

Alcina will have a say in everything concerning you. She wants nothing but the best for you, it’s the least you deserve for being so precious. And she’ll be damned if you get anything less than perfection. Sure, she can be pretty controlling but it’s only because she truly knows what is best for you. She is the only one who knows what’s best for you.

Much like your “sisters”, she will expect nothing but complete obedience and overall submission from you. She won’t tolerate any kind of misbehavior or acting out. Alcina has high expectations for her family and your no exception but she can be a little more lenient with you. She loves and cares for you deeply and nothing could ever change that but she’s not letting your unsavory behavior ruin her family fantasy.

Alcina is very protective of you. You’re her baby, how could she not be? You’re place is always by her side, usually holding your mother’s hand or onto her dress. More times then not she’ll just scoop you up in her arms and carry you around wherever she goes. She usually has you sit in her lap or next to her, anywhere you can be as close as possible. She can’t bare being separated from her darling for too long, her mind will start racing full of worries. She needs to have you close, where she knows you’re safe and sound. She’d go as far as having you stay in her own room with her. Hell, your sisters will all end up staying in there too.

Alcina doesn’t take well to seeing you interact with anyone who isn’t her or your sisters. She only wants you in the company of family at all times and if she sees otherwise then she’ll quickly intervene. Or your sisters will if she’s not there to do so. And they are more than willing to teach whoever is trying to take their precious new sibling’s attention from them a lesson they’ll never forget. At least until that person is ripe enough to be dinner.

Speaking of which, your sisters will be her eyes and ears when she can’t be with you, although that’s rare. They’re always trailing after you, keeping a very close eye out and watching over you when Alcina cannot. Even when you think you’re finally alone, you never truly are.

Alcina doesn’t really like to punish you, she prefers to spoil you rotten with affection and gifts, but if she sees fit then she will. She usually grounds you, which consists of locking you in your room until you’ve realized your wrong doings and are ready to apologize. Or until you’re begging for your mother and sisters to let you out, running straight into their arms when they do so. They may even go as far as to put you in the dungeons for a time, at least until you’ve learned your lesson.

You will never be allowed to leave the castle. Maybe on rare occasions, Alcina will take you for a stroll out and about, but you aren’t allowed anywhere on your own. Besides, you’ll have all the more time to spend with your dear sisters. Isn’t that great? Of course it is! After all, you love your sisters, don’t you?

Alcina loves to dress you up! She’ll style your hair, playing with it however she likes. She’ll even do your makeup, whether you want her to or not. And your sisters are all there to lend their help as well. If they have to hold you in place just so Alcina can do what she wants then so be it. She may just let you wear her hat if you behave.

If anything were to ever happen to you, no matter how small and non life threatening it is, Alcina would be out for blood. More so than she already is. She and the girls will blame any and everyone else for whatever has befallen their precious baby. And someone will pay for it. It doesn’t matter if it was an accident or if it was your own clumsy fault. Blood will be shed.

Bela Dimitrescu

Bela is the oldest of Alcina’s daughters and the most adoring towards their new sibling. All it takes is Alcina caring about you for Bela to care all the same. It doesn’t take long for her to fall into step with her mother’s own intense attachment.

She’s the one Alcina trusts the most to watch over and protect you when she’s away. And Bela takes her role very seriously. She won’t let you out of her sight no matter what. You can try and run. You can try and hide but she’s always the first one to find you. Even when you think you’ve put even the smallest bit of space between the two of you she’s right there to take all that hope away.

Bela wants you to be very dependent on her. Not as dependent as you are on Alcina but enough for her to have some extra control over you. She’ll be the closest to you, becoming your confidant and best friend. As much as she loves and cares for you and she does, she would also use this as a way to get information to keep track of what’s going on when neither she or Mother are around. As rare as it is that doesn’t mean you don’t still have your secrets. No matter how small and insignificant they can be.

She would devote the most time and attention to you out of all the sisters. They all devote a lot of their time and attention but Bela does so the most. She wants to be a good older sister for you because it’s what you deserve, that’s what Mother has instilled in her head.

Alcina has given only Bela permission to punish you out of all the sisters. She’s the one who can be trusted not to scare or hurt you too terribly but enough to get the point across. You’ll be sure to learn your lesson if you know what’s good for you.

Bela sincerely wants to do right by you as a sister but she also wants to do right by Alcina as a daughter. She’ll be conflicted but undoubtably go along with what Mother wants. But she’ll always come back around to comfort you and be a sister to you.

All the sisters love to play games with you. Their favorite games to play are tag and hide n seek. Especially when you’re the prize. They’ll give you a head start, counting all the while and then they’re all off to find you. Bela is the one who usually finds you first. She knows all your hiding spots and all the places you would ever think of going to in the castle.

The one who finds you first gets to have you all to themself for the rest of the day. That is unless Mother comes in to sweep you away. If you win then they’ll let you go outside, all by yourself. At least that’s what they say. But you haven’t won so far and they don’t ever plan on you ever winning. It’s not like they would let you out even if you did.

Cassandra Dimitrescu

Cassandra isn’t as quick to take to you as her sisters are but if Mother says your family now then you’re family. She will eventually fall into line with Alcina and her sisters’ intense attachments towards their new family member. Especially if you’re quite affectionate. She and her sisters all melt for even the smallest amount of affection you have to offer.

The sisters already compete for Alcina’s love and favoritism but now they’ll compete even harder for yours. They each want to be your favorite sister. They want to be the one you have a high regard for, who you would choose to run to first. The bragging rights are only a bonus.

Cassandra is said to be more sadistic out of her sisters and that’s very true. She’s never like that with you though. No, she and Daniela spend most of their time terrorizing anyone who tries to get too close to you. You don’t need friends or anyone else for that matter. All you will need is your sisters and mother.

She likes spending whatever time she can with you. The sisters are never not fighting over who gets to have their time with you first. They’re rarely ever content with having to spend time with you all together. More times then not you’ll end up in a game of tug of war with them. You being the one stuck in the middle. Usually, Alcina would have to step in and make it right but now the girls started playing their games, resulting in you becoming their makeshift prize.

You’re never without at least one of the girls. And much like they’re mother they have you glued to their sides. Or rather they’re glued to your side. You’re able to do whatever you please around the castle when you’re not with Alcina as long as the girls are there to keep an eye on you. But Cassandra is the worst. She’s the one more likely to attack and torment whoever is around you. The person doesn’t even have to be doing anything in regards to you for Cassandra to go off on them.

Daniela Dimitrescu

Daniela is elated to have a new baby in the house. It doesn’t matter how old you are you’ll always be their baby. And she can’t wait to cause some trouble with you. Bela tries to supervise any and all of Daniela’s time with you because she knows Daniela will no doubt get you into trouble. She just wants to make sure she doesn’t get you hurt or anything.

Out of the three sisters, Daniela and Cassandra are the most troublesome. They’re more likely to teach you bad habits and encourage you to act out on them. At least with the castle staff, otherwise you’re on your best behavior for you sisters and Mother.

Daniela is the most selfish out of the sisters. She’s the youngest, she believes she deserves more than her sisters and that includes more of her new precious sibling. She wants her new sibling all to herself. She doesn’t want to share you with Bela and Cassandra.

Daniela loves to bring you things. Sometimes they’re nice and wonderful and other times they’re disturbing and will keep you up at night. Don’t get attached to anyone or anything and you may not end up getting a piece of them as your next ‘gift’.

She’s probably the most affectionate, always having to hang off and be touching you in some sense of the word. She just likes to be close to you, they all do. But Daniela is the worse among them. More times then not you will wake up to her cuddled up next to you in your bed. At least the rare times you’re allowed to sleep in your own room. Soon enough, Bela and Cassandra will file in as well, taking their places wherever they can stay as close to you as possible.

All the sisters have a habit of taking your belongings and keeping them to have a part of you. Especially your jewelry and clothes. The girls will wear them if it means they can be and feel closer to you. Daniela being the worse one.

You’ll probably never get back your missing things from your dear sisters. Hell, you’ll probably never see them again, that is unless the girls are wearing them. Or if those certain belongings of yours have lost your scent or warmth. The girls also very much love to bask in their new sibling’s smell. And the feel of your warmth only ensures the sisters’ closeness towards you.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

preferences for the different Michael eras x a reader who has daddy issues? 👀

Of course! Sorry this took so long getting out, and I apologize if any of them are out of character. I know this is a little short, I wasn't quite sure how to make it any more longer (also this gif oml 😩😩)

Michael Langdon eras x reader with daddy issues

Warnings: toxic relationship with parent, mentions of murder, swearing

Murder House

Poor baby

Wants to help, but doesn't know how

Might kill him unless you've made him sworn not to do so

Secretly kills him later without your permission

Does his best to distract you after an argument with your dad

"Wanna play Mario Cart? It might take your mind off of it"

"Sure baby, that sounds nice"

He'll even let you win a few times if you're really bummed out about it

Hawthorne

Breaks out one of Ye Olde Spellbooks so he can cast a curse on him

He would probably go through multiple spellbooks, trying to find one that would be the best suiting punishment for your father

He'd be super enthusiastic about it too

"Hey, what about this spell? This looks like fun!"

"...Michael, that's a spell for how to turn someone's skin inside out"

"And?"

You're going to have to supervise the process, otherwise he'll do something like cause an unexpected solar eclipse just to get revenge on one person

Sojourn

He would find out his address, then kidnap him

After that he'd end up sacrificing him in a ceremony at the satanic church

If you want, he'll invite you to give a speech about how bad of a person your dad was

You: this son of a bitch was a bad father and an even worse human being, and I'm glad he's finally dead

Michael, in the congregation: you tell 'em!

You guys end up having a reception after, where they serve food and punch (you didn't drink any of it, certain the "punch" was just drained blood in a bowl)

Fire & Reign

He just goes to your dad's work and sets him on fire if I'm being honest

If he knows you're on board with the idea, he'll let you tag along with him

(If you're like me though, you'd probably bring along some unconventional things to snack on while you watch)

Michael: *watches you get into the car with a jumbo bag of marshmallows and a wooden stick*

Michael: what the hell is that?

You: oh, this? This is my snack! I figured I could roast us some marshmallows while we watch my dad burst into flames!

Michael:

Michael: fair enough

Outpost

I feel like at this point your dad would be dead

Like there's no way Michael would let the guy who caused you so much misery for so many years stay at one of the outposts, even if he was rich

The only possible way he would have survived would be if he was kidnapped by Michael solely to have him tortured somewhere in one of the outposts after the bombs dropped

"Uh, Michael? Why are do I hear constant screams coming from the room next to us?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about"

The bitch would try to gaslight you into thinking you're hearing's off or something

If you did find out the truth and you went to confront him about why he never told you, he'd simply say "you never asked"

[myra-mcqueen]

The Boy Who Ran Away

6 years ago today Alan Rickman passed away and I wrote this. Seems appropriate to reshare today!

Six year old Harry Potter was running away. And this time, no body was going to stop him.

Harry had tried to run away once before, back when he had lived in Little Whinging with his Aunt and Uncle. He hadn't gotten very far before one of the nosey neighbours had dragged him back by the scruff of his neck.

This time, the small boy decided as he slipped out into the courtyard of the large castle, things would be different. He was going to run away from Hogwarts and nobody was going to get in his way. Not even...

"Good evening, Harry!"

Professor Dumbledore.

Stopping in his tracks, Harry slowly turned on the spot to face the old man.

"Wherever could you be going at such a late hour?" Dumbledore asked, glancing at Harry's rucksack with a twinkle in his eye.

Harry didn't respond. He was fairly certain that the headmaster already knew exactly what had happened. And besides, it wasn't often that Albus Dumbledore asked a question to which he didn't already know the answer.

"Perhaps, if I might be so bold as to take up some of your time, we could go for a stroll?" the man suggested, stretching out an arm to guide Harry in the direction of the astronomy tower.

Not a word was spoken between them then, until they reached the top of the tower, at which point Dumbledore offered Harry a sherbet lemon.

Shaking his head, the small boy leant against the railings and looked out over the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy, rapidly fading in the dark.

"This is my favourite part of the castle, you know?" Dumbledore told him, sitting on the wooden bench at the centre of the tower. "I find the peace and quiet is most useful when one needs to think, or perhaps talk about something that is troubling them. Where did you plan to go, if you don't mind me asking?"

Harry just shrugged, his back still turned.

"It's one thing to run away, Harry. It's another to have no destination in mind," the older wizard said, though there was no trace of anger in his words.

"It doesn't matter, does it? I can't stay here," the young boy said eventually, sounding just as miserable as he felt.

"On the contrary, it matters a great deal, to a great many people. One in particular," Dumbledore told him. "That very person is, as we speak, searching this whole castle frantically."

"He's not. He's angry."

"Quite. And with good reason, or so I have heard. Your father is a potions master who takes his craft very seriously, Harry. There are any number of dangerous ingredients in that laboratory, and what is the one rule he has always had?"

"Don't go in Daddy's potions lab unless he says I can," Harry muttered sheepishly, turning to face Dumbledore and averting his eyes to the ground.

"Ah. If I am not mistaken, child, your father was simply concerned for your safety. You and I both know that he is not the best at expressing his emotions. I am sure that he will calm down, once he sees that you have managed to recall this rule," Dumbeldore assured him.

"I didn't...forget the rule..." Harry began, wondering if he was wise to go on.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows above his half-moon spectacles, yet his surprise appeared to be feigned.

"I see. Forgive an old man, I must be confused. There was another reason for you to venture inside without permission?"

"I wanted... to... to make the potion like Daddy showed me. So Daddy would... would..." Harry began, kicking at a loose stone on the floor absent-mindedly.

Dumbledore waited patiently.

"I don't think Daddy wants me anymore. I wanted to show him I can be good at potion making just like him. So he could be proud of me," the small boy told him sincerely. "Instead I made him even more angry."

"With your father's supervision, you will grow up to be a fine potions master if you so desire. Of that I am certain. But might I ask, what has lead you to believe you are not wanted?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry gave another shrug of his shoulders. "Ever since all the big boys and girls came back to school, he's been busy all the time. Even when his classes are finished, he grades the papers or goes in his potions lab and closes the door. Before all the children came, Daddy used to play Gobstones and Junior Wizard's Chess with me every night. But now he doesn't want to, and he tells me to do drawing instead."

"You dislike drawing?'

"No. But he doesn't put my drawings up on the fridge," Harry muttered.

Seeing that the older wizard was puzzled by this statement, Harry continued.

"When I lived with Aunt Petunia, she put all of Dudley's pictures on the fridge. Even the really bad ones. She said every single one of them was special."

"A muggle tradition, I am sure," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, more to himself than to Harry.

"Daddy doesn't put them up, not anywhere. And he doesn't have time to read to me at night anymore. I'm just in his way," the little boy told him, quietly.

"I wonder, have you told him how you feel?"

Harry shook his head. "He'll just get cross."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Perhaps, perhaps... That is the Severus we all know and love."

Harry exhaled deeply, focusing on his feet.

"Harry, the start of a new term here at Hogwarts is always a tremendously busy time. Take it from someone who knows. But things will settle down, as the weeks draw on. And I am quite certain that you are, and always will be, the most important thing in your father's life," Dumbledore told him gently.

"He's going to shout at me for running away," Harry predicted, sounding increasingly nervous.

"Undoubtedly. Although I believe that first and foremost, he will simply be glad to see that you are safe," the headmaster told him. "Come now, let's not keep him waiting."

O=O=O

Harry's return to his home in the dungeons was an altogether silent affair.

After he had given his adopted son the once over and was satisfied that the boy was still in one piece, Severus Snape had reverted to a short lecture, followed by icy silence.

Harry had eventually gone to bed, tired of the one word remarks and disappointed looks being cast his way. Part of him wished his father would shout at him. Smack him even, and Daddy never did that. Anything would have been better than this.

And if his father was aware of what had triggered Harry's little adventure, he did not mention it.

Huffing, Harry pulled the covers over his head and closed his eyes. Two could play the silent game, and he wasn't going to take all of the blame for the situation.

The now-mutual silence continued over breakfast the following day, with Harry throwing scowls in his father's direction, all of which went duly unnoticed.

After the awkward meal, Harry's punishment began. He had spent the morning scrubbing several of his father's cauldrons, since he was 'so keen to be in the potions lab.'

Lunch followed in a similar vain to breakfast, and whilst Severus headed out to his afternoon classes, Harry moved on to stage two of his punishment: cleaning his father's study.

There were certainly worse punishments, Harry decided, as he got to work straightening out the numerous items which lay strewn across the potions master's large oak desk.

Moving on to the dust-covered bookshelves, which adorned one entire wall of the dimly lit room, Harry wondered if his father had deliberately avoided cleaning at all over the last year, in anticipation of such a punishment.

Dusting the lower shelves was an easy enough task, but Harry knew he wasn't tall enough to reach those higher up. Glancing around the room, he settled on his father's chair, pulling it across the room and clambering on top of it to give himself some height.

Yet even with the chair, Harry found the top two shelves impossible to reach. Standing on his tip-toes did little to help, and jumping up and down proved just as fruitless.

Frustrated, Harry flung his feather duster at the out-of-reach shelves. This action served only to create a new cloud of dust, followed by something which toppled off the shelf and hit the small boy square on the head before landing on the floor beneath him with a gentle thump.

Wiping the dust from his glasses, Harry hopped down from the chair, kneeling to the ground to get a better look at the offending item.

A leather bound box, black in colour and no more than 15 inches in length. It appeared that the item had once sported a golden latch, but this had long since rusted away.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry opened the lid and took a look inside.

The box was mostly full of papers; official-looking pieces of parchment which noted his father's various achievements in the potions domain.

There were several photographs too; an older woman whom Harry did not recognise... a young boy with pale skin, sitting next to a smiling, red-headed girl... a much younger version of his father, standing beside a familiar-looking woman...

"Mummy..." Harry whispered, running his fingers across the picture, almost longingly.

He could happily have stared at that photograph all day, were it not for something else in the box catching his eye. Right in the bottom, a stack of papers in varying shapes and sizes.

Sifting through them, Harry's eyes widened. There in his hands was every single drawing and painting he had done since his arrival in his new home, over a year and a half ago. There were some that Harry could scarcely recall, and others that were not his best work. Yet here they all were, tucked away in a box with pictures of his mother.

He blinked, feeling somewhat guilty, and more than a little stupid.

Granted, his pictures weren't pinned to a fridge, or hanging from every available wall space in their quarters. But they were here, in his Daddy's special box, with all the other important things.

Dusting forgotten, he stood up and ran for the door.

Harry did not stop running then, until he reached the potions classroom at the other end of the dungeons.

The fifth years had just been dismissed and the classroom was empty, so Harry made his way across to the small adjoining office, ready with a huge hug, a million apologies and one very sincere 'I love you' for his father.

And he delivered them all. Right after Severus had finished giving instructions to his prefects on how best to handle the Slytherin House meeting that evening- one that he himself was unable to attend, on account of the fact he had several weeks' worth of bedtime stories to catch up on.

After all, Harry remembered, as he drifted off to sleep against Severus' chest that very same evening, he was, and always would be, the most important thing in his father's life.

In memory of Alan Rickman 1946-2016.

[whumpzone]

Linden & Colton - 14

(masterpost)

just a short one today. I meant for Linden to give out rules last chapter and then he didn't, lol

CW: dehumanisation, pet whump

-

Master had given Pet a dog toy. He must have done something good.

It forced Pet to use his hands a lot, which felt odd, but Master had told him very clearly that it was meant to be fun, not stressful. So he played with it, and truth be told, it was quite fun. It was painted lots of bright colours and clicked and shuffled about in his hands. It focused Pet’s mind so much he sometimes forgot where he was- almost. Never fully. That wasn’t allowed.

He was knelt as usual on the rug by Master’s feet, ready to be commanded or grabbed or kicked. He still shook, being so close to Master. It made it a little harder to grip his toy, sometimes, but he did his best.

Master finally broke the silence. “You need some rules, Col.”

Pet dropped the toy like a hot coal and turned to face him, giving his undivided attention. I exist for Master, I don’t need any distractions.

Normally, his heart would have faltered at such a reprimand, but here, with this Master… Pet did need rules. He wanted them, almost, if Pet were allowed to want things. “I think having some rules would help you here, yeah? I want you to know what you can and can’t do here, so you feel safer.”

Pet simply stayed still, focusing on his owner’s words. Master was making more sense today. Rules meant Pet was wanted. He could finally learn how to please him.

“Right. I want you to be in charge of feeding Jaffa every day. You already know where all her food is, and it’s a sure-fire way to her heart. You can handle that, can’t you?”

The question didn’t sound like a threat, but it always had been with Pet’s old owner. You can handle that, can’t you, because if not then I’ll make you handle it.

“And like Jaffa, you have to eat too. At least three times a day. Usually, I will be here to supervise this. When I’m away, I’ll make you meals that you can reheat in the microwave. I’ll show you how to use it later, alright?”

Pet’s eyes lit up. Food. Regular food. Even if Master chose to starve him, Pet would have a full stomach. It wouldn’t hurt so badly. Master noticed Pet’s obvious excitement and flashed a satisfied smile.

“Following on from that… you are forbidden from going near boiling water unless I say so. I’m not letting you get burnt again.”

Of course. Only Master had to privilege of deciding when Pet got hurt, and when he was spared.

“If you want me to touch you- rub your head, or sit with you, or anything- just come find me. I’ll do my best to figure it out.”

Pet nodded. He was starting to think that this Master just didn’t have such a way with words- perhaps not all humans found it easy to be direct? But this was clearly Master’s way of telling Pet what he wanted of him.

Maybe it was a compliment- Master trusted in Pet’s limited animal intelligence enough to let him figure it out.

“In fact. Right. Uh- to make it easier. You can have touch, sunlight, food, water, warmth, baths, uh… sleep, clothes. You can have all those whenever you want. Now, this is what’s not allowed. This is what you need to pay attention to, okay?”

Pet nodded, although his head was spinning with how many privileges Master had just granted him, like it was nothing. He couldn’t possibly pay for all of it. What would Master want? But he couldn’t dwell on that now. Master had ordered him to listen. He should’ve been listening anyway. But he had been, right? He- he- he had to stop thinking.

“No boiling water. No offering me weapons. If I want to punish you, that’s… well, that’s my choice alone. If you think I’m angry, but you’re not sure, come find me to ask first, before you panic. Similarly… no sex. If someone tries to use you like that, run away. Find me. Do not let them, okay?”

The knot in Pet’s stomach that he had almost stopped registering started to loosen a little. Whatever Master decided for him, however he hurt and moulded and used his property, at least Pet wouldn’t have to do that.

“No running away, either, but I don’t think you’d try that. Uh, be nice to Jaffa, it’s okay to sleep late, and if I’m out and people come to the door, it’s okay to ignore them.”

Seemingly finished, Master looked down at Pet. He had an expression that Pet didn’t think he’d ever seen, but he recognised it all the same. Embarrassment. “I hope those all makes sense. I’ve never had to give out rules before.”

Pet pointed to himself, then raised a slightly crooked finger. I’m your first Pet?

“Yep, you’re the first. I dare say it’s going pretty well so far, wouldn’t you?”

Pet positively beamed. Master hadn’t got mad when Pet tried to communicate like that. He must be allowed- wait, Master hadn’t specifically forbidden talking. Maybe there would come a day when he gave Pet permission, then? Maybe he could earn it after all?

Pet decided to take another small risk. He picked up his dog toy and looked to Master for permission. Asking for it. Not just waiting.

“Oh, yes, you crack on. Rubik’s cubes are a good brain teaser, aren’t they?”

-

tagging: @newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captainseconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonward @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @zipadeedooda-drabbles @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @whumpwillow @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread

@vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate

going to tag the rest in a reblog. let's see if it wooooooooorks :I

[otakusheep15]

SFW Alphabet - Simeon

This man seriously owns my entire heart. Like, I would trade all of the brothers just to be with him, no questions asked lmao

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Surprisingly, he’s not that affectionate. Well, at least not physically. He enjoys spending time with you and being in the same room, but he hardly ever craves psychical affection like the brothers do. The farthest he usually goes is hand-holding and maybe a little hand kiss too, but he rarely goes beyond that unless he’s feeling especially clingy that day. Just being near you is enough for him really. 

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Friendship with him can go one of two ways. He’d either baby you like he does with Luke, or lowkey bully you like he does with Lucifer, no in between. It really depends on how you are as a person and how he sees you. If he sees you as someone who needs protecting and is a bot more on the childish side, you’ll totally be another Luke to him. And if you’re someone whose more on the opposite end of that spectrum, calm, composed, serious, he’ll treat you more like he does Lucifer. But he loves you all the same. 

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Cuddling is probably the one exception to the lack of physical affection. He loves nothing more than to curl up next to you in bed after a long day of dealing with RAD, Luke, and Solomon’s “cooking”. He especially loves laying his head on your chest so that he can listen to your heartbeat. It just calms him down and reminds him that you’re really here with him. 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Man is the definition of malewife (besides Barb), so of course he’s amazing at any kind of chore. He’s also gotten quite good at household chores after having to take care of Luke for so long. And, trust me, he would love to settle down with you. Maybe Luke could come along too? That would be ideal. 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’d be super gentle about it. The last thing he wants is to make the situation any worse than it’s gonna get, so he breaks the news as calmly as possible. If the situation did somehow escalate, he would try is best to get everything under control lest someone get hurt (physically or emotionally). 

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

As much as he’d love to get married, he also wants to take it slow. He understands that relationships need time to develop, so he wants to wait until both of you are absolutely sure before going any further. After all, marriage is a big commitment to an angel, so it’s important that everything is perfect. 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He is so gentle. Like, he’s the best when it comes to care. Maybe it’s just his instincts as an angel, but he feels the need to protect you from any harm whatsoever. He always makes sure he has permission before touching you anywhere, and he’s constantly checking up on you and making sure you’re feeling well. really, he just wants you to feel as comfortable as possible with him.  

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He likes hugs, but he doesn’t give them out too often. It’s almost always you who goes to him for hugs first unless he’s in a really good mood. But he’ll never deny anyone who does want a hug, especially you (and Luke). 

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Honestly, he probably waits a while before saying it. In fact, you might end up being the one to say it first. He wants to take things slow, and the last thing he wants is to make you feel rushed by saying it too quickly. He loves you very much, and you’re both highly aware of that, but actually saying the words takes time for him. 

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Surprisingly, he gets really jealous really easily. Not so surprisingly, he’s very good at hiding it. He just hates how much time you spend with the brothers, and he’ll use anything to get you to come over. His most common excuses usually involve either Luke or Solomon needing supervision and him needing help with that. He never means to guilt trip or gaslight, but he lowkey might if it means getting you to him quicker.  

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He is a sucker for for hand kisses, both giving and receiving. They’re just so romantic to him, and they don’t take much effort either. His kisses, regardless of where they are, are super loving and romantic. All he wants to do is sweep you off your feet and make you feel loved. 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

*cough*Luke*cough* All jokes aside, he does really love children. He just loves how innocent and joyful they can be, and he loves how they speak their minds since most don’t have a filter. The chaos they can get into is also an added bonus, even if it can be a hassle to clean up afterwards. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings can go one of two ways. The preferred way is you two waking up around the same time and just staying in bed for a couple hours enjoying each other’s company. These mornings are usually filled with sweet words and soft touches. The other, less preferred way, is absolute chaos. It doesn’t matter if you stay at the HoL or PH, there will be chaos. And one (or both) of you is going to have to fix it. 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He tends to stay up late working, so you can either go to bed and he’ll join later, or you can stay up with him. Either way, he’ll try and finish up as quickly as possible so that he can curl up with you in bed. If his day was especially stressful, he’ll hold you close to him and rant about all of his worries. Side note: please pet his hair, he deserves it. 

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s actually pretty open with you, which is kinda surprising. I mean, he does have his secrets he’d much rather keep, but who doesn’t. However, he also knows the value of trust in a relationship, so he tries his hardest to be open and honest with you as possible. He hopes that you’ll do the same as well. 

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

The freakin definition of patience. He’s dealt with so much throughout his life, so he’s grown to have an amazing temperament. Of course he can get annoyed (*cough*the play*cough*) but he does so well at controlling it most of the time. This patience is specifically applied to you and Luke. You could literally murder someone and he probably still wouldn’t be mad. 

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He’d remember most of what you say, but he’d hardly ever utilize it like some of the brothers do. He’ll use the information in more subtle ways. You mention. a certain flavor of cake you like? He makes sure Luke makes some during hsi next baking session. Any shows you enjoy? He may not watch them depending on the length, but he’ll do some research on them so that he can talk to you about it. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite memory is this one time you came over to bake with Luke. Luke, precious thing, was trying out this new recipe, and he was super excited about it. But, of course, Solomon had to come in and mess everything up and now the kitchen and half the house is a mess. Luke is super upset, Solomon is lowkey enjoying it, and Simeon is there watching the world burn around him. And through it all, you stayed there and helped them clean up even when you didn’t have to. He just found it so sweet that you took the time to help Luke and also the rest of the Hall as well. It ended up being a fun day even if he did scold Solomon for hours afterwards. 

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’s decently protective, but that’s mostly is angelic instincts. Angels have that natural instinct to protect humans, so he had that urge even before you two became a thing. And that urge only became stronger as you two got closer. However, his protection comes in more subtle ways, like most of his gestures. Someone getting a bit too close to you? He’ll put his arm about you and slowly back you away. The brothers are fighting again? He’ll step in front of you to make sure you’re not caught in the cross-fire. 

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Like pretty much everything else, he’s much more subtle with his dates. He prefers more lowkey options, like a picnic or just hanging out in either his room or yours. You guys never do anything over-the-top, and he likes it that way. 

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He tends to prioritize others over himself a lot, and he’s been trying to work on it for a while. And, obviously, he’s terrible with tech. I honestly have no clue how he’s survived this long not knowing how a D.D.D. works past the basics.  

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s naturally pretty, so he doesn’t need to care. Jokes aside, he isn’t one to particularly care for his looks. He does want to look nice and presentable, but it isn’t usually a top priority compared to someone like Asmo or Mammon. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

WIthout a doubt. He tends to get attached to people very easily, and you’re no exception. Once you two being getting close, it’s over for him. From then on, he’s attached to you. If something were to happen to you, he would simply cease to exist. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He and Michael totally had something going on at one point. Maybe they still have something going on. Hell, maybe even Luci was involved at one point. I have no clue where this idea came from, but it’s in my head and so now all of you are being subjected to it as well. 

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

People who dislike Luke are a big no for him. Sorry, they’re a package deal. You want him? Well, now you have a child too.  

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He tends to make noises in his sleep. It’s not really cohearent words or anything, more just like light snores and stuff. Kinda like a dog when it really gets into a dream, ya know? 

[ultimatetrashyfanfic]

Still loving Komahina and I also love hurt/comfort sickfics so this was pretty inevitable. Nagito is very good for sickfics. Anyway, I wanted to show these two trying to navigate a bad illness and all the frightening and sometimes embarrassing things that come with that. Post-hope arc again. With fluff because I can’t NOT do fluff. I hope you enjoy it - Circle

Also on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34280557

Warning: descriptions of vomiting (I didn’t describe the puke itself or anything, don’t worry, I’m emetophobic myself) and high fevers/vague descriptions of medical procedures.

Hajime noticed at the beach this time - and just like every time, he kicked himself for not noticing before he’d made Nagito leave the cabin. He thought back to when Nagito stumbled as they walked across the island, about how he’d chased every meagre bite of breakfast with a gulp of water like it was difficult to get down. Hajime hadn’t been vigilant enough, and now they were sitting together on the sand and Nagito was leaning far too heavily against his shoulder.

“Nagito?” Hajime said cautiously. When Nagito turned his head, Hajime hastily put a hand to his forehead, managing to catch it before Nagito veered away. “I knew it. You’re burning up.”

Some old routine. Nagito would deflect, then grow self-deprecating; Hajime would shut that down, then begrudgingly carry Nagito back to their cabin. They’d done this dance together over and over, whenever Nagito’s weakened state and illness made something like a common cold seem as serious as smallpox.

It didn’t seem so bad for the next couple of days. Nagito had a fever, but it was a low one, and he ate when Hajime asked and seemed alert and talkative. Hajime felt comfortable leaving him in the care of their friends while he went to Mikan for medicine and advice - though his friends proved to need supervision of their own. He returned to his cabin just as Sonia and Gundham were leaving, reassured when Sonia reported that Nagito wasn’t any worse. At the time, he didn’t notice the splashes of brown paint on Gundham’s bandages or Sonia’s dress.

Hajime stopped short when he stepped over the threshold. There was a gigantic swirly witchy symbol covering almost the whole wall above the bed, the heavy smell of paint in the air. Nagito was peeping over the top of the bedsheets, eyes sparkling.

“What the hell is that?” Hajime couldn’t even sound angry. He was just bloody tired. Why were the Ultimates so dramatic?

“Sonia and Gundham did a ritual for my good health,” Nagito explained. His lip twitched and Hajime knew he was fighting a smile. “I was so honoured to have two Ultimates working to help me that I thought it’d be unspeakably ungrateful to protest.”

“Oh, shut up, Nagito! I can see you just think it’s funny,” Hajime snapped. Nagito snorted and disappeared under the sheets, spluttering.

Hajime sighed and took another look at the giant eyesore on his wall. At least it was painted fairly neatly - and he knew Gundham and Sonia’s hearts were in the right places even if this particular stunt was irritating. He supposed they were trying to help in a weird way. Sonia went along with anything Gundham said, and Hajime didn’t expect Gundham to know you shouldn’t paint giant symbols on other people’s walls without permission. Gundham navigated social interactions like he was going into battle; Hajime doubted he would ask permission for something he clearly saw as a good deed.

“Doesn’t it make your boring plain wall more interesting?” Nagito piped up.

“Don’t push your luck, Nagito.”

“Right. Who knows what pushing my luck will do.”

Later on, Hajime would worry that he’d jinxed them somehow, that whatever strange force was behind Nagito’s Ultimate Luck was malevolent and wanted to teach them a lesson for mocking it - because that night brought disaster. Nagito was usually exceptionally clingy when they were in bed, often to the point where Hajime got so warm he had to pry him off, but now he curled up right on the very edge of the mattress, well away from Hajime. Hajime knew he was awake from his strangely measured breaths and his unusual stillness; Nagito was a restless sleeper. He frequently kicked Hajime in the night and rolled right on top of him and yanked the blankets away. Sometimes Hajime felt like he’d get more sleep on a busy runway as airplanes roared overhead.

Hajime poked Nagito in the back, careful not to tip him right off the bed. “Hey. What’s up?”

He didn’t get a response. Hajime sighed. “Do you think I’m stupid? I know you’re not asleep. You never sleep like that. So what’s going on?”

He wound his arms around Nagito’s waist and tried to pull him closer to get a better look at him, but Nagito winced and slapped his hands away with surprising force. “Don’t,” he gasped, curling up even tighter. “Don’t press…”

“What? Is it your stomach?” This was new. Nagito had been off his food lately, but then he frequently found it difficult to eat. “Do you feel nauseous?”

Silence. Getting information from Nagito was like getting blood from a stone sometimes. Hajime felt Nagito’s forehead in the gloom. His fever had definitely gone up and his skin was clammy. Hajime let his fingers trail down Nagito’s cheeks to his jawline and felt along his neck - the lymph nodes were so swollen they felt like two throbbing ping pong balls.

“Fuck,” Hajime muttered. “I thought we might get through this one without anything too bad.”

He was expecting some strange rambling about how this bad luck would inspire them to hope for good things in the future, but Nagito still didn’t speak. He rolled over and shuffled across the bed, tucking his burning head right under Hajime’s chin. It worried Hajime more than any words could; Nagito didn’t actively seek out comfort unless he was feeling really terrible.

“Hey,” Hajime mumbled, having to spit out a mouthful of Nagito’s unruly curls. “Ugh, your hair keeps getting in my mouth. Look, I know you’re sick and I’m sure it must feel crappy, but you’ll be okay. You’ll probably feel better by tomorrow morning. Right?” Hajime knew he sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as Nagito.

More silence. Hajime could feel Nagito shivering, and wound his arms around him quickly. He usually teased Nagito for being so chilly all the time, needing his jacket whenever the sun dipped behind the clouds and getting goose pimples in the air conditioned cabins, but it didn’t seem remotely funny anymore. Nagito trembled like he was buried up to his neck in snow, but he certainly didn’t feel cold.

“You’re burning up. Fuck, I think I need to get Mikan,” Hajime said. He felt a hand shoot out and grab hold of his t-shirt, clinging for dear life. Hajime knew he could easily pry Nagito off, but he couldn’t bring himself to try at a time like this. “Okay, don’t freak out. I’ll stay. But I’m going if you get any worse.”

It was after midnight when the vomiting started. They’d already been in the bathroom since eleven, huddled together on the floor by the toilet, sharing a blanket. Nagito kept sleepily begging Hajime to go back to bed and leave him there, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Shut up,” he mumbled. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t be here with me if our roles were reversed.”

“That’s different. You’re you and I’m me,” Nagito whispered. He let his burning head rest against Hajime’s shoulder despite his pleading.

“It shouldn’t be different though. It’s not different, not to me. You’re sick and I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway if I knew you were in here on your own feeling miserable.”

“You have such a kind heart, Hajime. To think you could care so much about someone as worthless as I am.”

“Nagito. If you don’t stop that I’m going to shove your head down the toilet and flush, no matter how sick you are,” Hajime threatened. “You’re not worthless. For the millionth time.”

“You’d think you’d have got tired of saying that by now,” Nagito said.

“I have. Very fucking tired. But I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. Now shut up and try to get some rest. And let me know when you need to throw up. You’re in a position right now that would have you puking down my front and it’s making me nervous.”

Thankfully, Nagito was exceptionally neat about it when he did have to lean over the toilet to vomit. Hajime hooked his white curls back behind his ears and tried not to groan too much. It was unpleasant, obviously, but it was clear Nagito was the one suffering the most right now. He didn’t need Hajime moaning in his ear for him to hurry up - and as the minutes ticked by Hajime found his embarrassment and mild disgust morphing into anxiety. He knew Nagito hadn’t had much to eat these past few days, but the retching and heaving went on well after Nagito had nothing left to bring up. Nagito’s cheeks grew flushed and blotchy, and it wasn’t long before Hajime was the only thing holding him up over the loo, his arms wound around Nagito’s chest. He could feel Nagito’s heart pounding hard against his arms, on and on.

“Come on,” Hajime said eventually. “I’ll get you a bucket or something. You’re not really throwing anything up now anyway. You need to lie down.”

Nagito didn’t respond. He was breathing heavily, his face dripping with sweat. He was gripping the porcelain so hard his knuckles bleached white. Hajime had to pry off his fingers one by one.

“Come on,” he repeated. “I’ll get you something to wipe your face. I know you feel miserable but you can’t stay tethered to the toilet until you die.” He scooped Nagito up into his arms, cradling him as carefully as a newborn. Nagito felt frighteningly hot and damp.

Shaky arms wound around Hajime’s neck and a weak, hoarse voice whispered into his ear. “Death would be welcome at this point…”

“Stop it,” Hajime said firmly. “Don’t go all melodramatic on me. You sound like Gundham.” He carried Nagito to the bed and ran a cloth under the tap. “Here. Shall I do it for you? Then you don’t have to sit up.”

Nagito didn’t react, staring up at the ceiling. He seemed to decide to ignore Hajime at will, and it annoyed him almost as much as Nagito’s self-deprecation.

“Fine, don’t talk to me,” Hajime snapped. “I’ll scrub your face like a baby if you’re going to act like one.” Despite his tone, Hajime ran the damp cloth over Nagito’s skin with unbelievable care and tenderness, going carefully around his eyes and mouth.

Nagito’s eyes flickered over to him. “Well, Nurse Hinata, what’s your diagnosis? Is it curtains for me now? Is this world finally finished with me?”

“No! God, I’ve never known anybody so dramatic,” Hajime said angrily. “It’s just a little stomach flu or something like that. Don’t be so stupid.” He was almost shouting now. It was far easier to get angry than to admit to Nagito that he was scared too, that the knot of panic in his chest was getting tighter by the minute.

Nagito stared at him pityingly. Hajime wanted to slap him and clasp him close all at once.

“I’m going to get Mikan.” He turned to leave, but felt a clammy hand grasp his wrist and hold it with a surprisingly firm, desperate strength. Hajime turned back. “Nagito..?”

Nagito had his head bent, his lips pressed together. He didn’t speak, but he clung to Hajime’s wrist so tightly his fingernails dug in.

“But we need help. I’ll be as fast as I can, I promise. I’ll run all the way,” Hajime tried.

The hand squeezed even tighter.

“Oh fucking hell,” Hajime groaned. “Okay, I won’t leave. But we still need help, so you need to let me go for a second, okay? I promise I won’t go past the door to the cabin.”

A pause. Then Nagito slowly unclamped his fingers and let Hajime break free. He immediately flew to the cabin door, opened it wide and took a deep, long breath inwards. “HEY!” he bellowed, as loud as he could possibly manage. His voice boomed through the still night air. “WE NEED HELP! COME OUT AND HELP US!”

He yelled the same simple lines over and over until a door opened. He’d rather hoped for somebody sensible like Twogami or Mahiru; he ended up with Kazuichi. It made sense really - the sensible people would be asleep at three in the morning, and Kazuichi’s cabin was directly across from Hajime’s.

“What the hell are you screaming about, Hajime?” Kazuichi whined, scrubbing his eyes. His hands were covered with oil and he smeared it across his cheeks. It looked like he was wearing bad war paint. He’d doubtless been hunched over some project he was working on. It usually annoyed Hajime to see his friend neglecting vital things like sleep for his machines, but he was grateful for Souda’s insomnia tonight.

“Kazuichi, come over here, I need your help. Nagito is sick. Like, really sick. I need you to go get Mikan. Please.”

“What? Why can’t you do it?” Kazuichi said indignantly.

“I just… I don’t want to leave him alone, okay?!” Hajime muttered, flustered.

“Awww, Hajime! You loooove him,” Kazuichi cried, spluttering with laughter.

Hajime heard Nagito snort behind him too. He must’ve heard. He felt his cheeks flush crimson. “Kazuichi, will you just fucking go before I throttle you!”

“Stop yelling at me, I’m doing you a favour!” Kazuichi cried, looking wounded - but he ran off in the direction of Mikan’s cabin obediently.

None of them slept much that night. Mikan worked diligently, trying antibiotics and saline drips and ice packs, but she couldn’t get Nagito’s fever down, getting more and more tearfully apologetic as if she was personally blighting him herself. “His fever is dangerously high. We have to find a way of lowering it,” she muttered over and over like a mantra, shaking her head.

Anti-nausea drugs stopped the persistent stomach pains, but Nagito was clearly far from comfortable. He stopped smirking and teasing Hajime, stopped laughing at Kazuichi’s silly jokes. He stopped putting himself down and babbling about how the four Ultimates were so full of kindness and hope to be fussing so much over someone like him. He just stared vacantly up at the ceiling, his eyes foggy and over-bright, his cheeks flushed.

They each toiled in their own way until dawn, when they finally collapsed with exhaustion, squashing up together on Hajime’s bed. They lay there undisturbed until Twogami came looking for them, concerned by the absences at breakfast. He shook Hajime awake, wanting to know why there were four people curled around each other like puppies on his bed, but all Hajime could focus on was Nagito. His head was resting on Hajime’s chest, burning hot through his shirt. The fever was still there. He’d woken up but the nightmare was still going.

It was a mercy that Twogami found them. He sent Mikan off to sleep in her own cabin and made Hajime give a detailed account of the previous night (he let Kazuichi remain asleep at the foot of the bed. Twogami knew he wouldn’t sleep again if he was disturbed, and he wasn’t in the way).

“If he gets any worse, we might have to contact Future Foundation,” Twogami said thoughtfully. “They’ll have more complex medical equipment.”

“We don’t need them,” Hajime snapped. “Especially Makoto.”

He’d thought Kazuichi was still sleeping, but he snorted. “Because Nagito gushes over Makoto. That’s why you don’t like him,” he mumbled sleepily, sitting up.

“Shut up, you hypocrite. Why didn’t you like Gundham before?” Hajime argued.

“I don’t know why you get so fussed, Makoto looks a lot like you.”

“He doesn’t!”

Twogami sighed and crossed his arms like an exasperated parent. “If you two want to bicker you can go do it outside. Nagito needs peace and quiet.” He sounded like a parent too, and the other men quietened immediately and focused on Nagito again.

Nagito didn’t seem to wake up properly. He could open his eyes (though this looked like it was taking an extreme amount of effort) but he didn’t speak or even react very much when somebody spoke to him. He barely blinked when Hajime tried to make him sip water or Kazuichi tapped on his cheek and called his name. Mikan was forced to give him fluids intravenously. When the afternoon brought no improvements, Hajime let Twogami contact Future Foundation for better medicine.

Hajime spent another anxious, sleepless night desperately holding Nagito - though he didn’t feel like Nagito. He hadn’t spoken a single word all day, and though Hajime was trying to be optimistic, he could feel panic pooling in his stomach like oil. Would the medicine get here in time? Would it even work? Nagito was so sick, as sick as he’d been with that awful Despair Disease. Hajime remembered how he’d left Nagito alone then; he wouldn’t make that mistake this time. He’d be there for Nagito - if he was even aware of Hajime at this point. It seemed less and less likely. He wasn’t even opening his eyes now. All Hajime could do was hold him, hold onto this lifeless, unresponsive husk that sucked in shallow breaths far too fast. He wondered if the real Nagito was somewhere deep inside, floating aimlessly, or if the fever had fried his brain completely and obliterated the strange, smart, fascinating person Hajime knew. No, surely he was being stupid. It couldn’t be that bad, right? Unless Mikan and Twogami were just being tactful. Maybe they both expected Nagito to perish and just didn’t want to snuff out Hajime’s hope. He clutched the burning body tighter.

“Don’t you dare die,” he whispered fiercely, cupping Nagito’s cheeks. “I mean it. Not after everything that’s happened. You can’t just give up now. You woke up once before. It took you the longest of everyone, but you still came back. Do it again, because I’ll lose my fucking mind if anyone else dies. You’d better fight this.” His eyes burned. Several tiny droplets of water fell onto Nagito’s face.

Hajime waited. He silently begged Nagito to open his eyes, whisper something coherent, clutch his hand… but nothing happened. Hajime held him all night, terrified of drifting off to sleep in case he woke up and found Nagito stone cold and white and still. He’d found Nagito dead once. Bloody and bound, his eyes bulging with pain… No. It wasn’t real, even if it felt real. It wasn’t real it wasn’t real it wasn’t real.

Morning brought the stronger medicine from the Future Foundation. Twogami explained what it was and how it worked, but Hajime was so fuzzy-headed with lack of sleep and stress that he didn’t take any of it in.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Twogami said doubtfully. “Mikan set up the IV so you don’t have to worry about anything. You could leave one of us here, go get some rest.” He tried for ten minutes to convince him, but Hajime shook his head.

“I can’t leave him. Not until he’s better.”

“You’re so stubborn. At this rate we’ll need to start nursing you along with him,” Twogami muttered, but he left them alone. Mikan left as soon as she could too, apologising even more than usual. Maybe Hajime had been glaring at her? It wasn’t her fault, he just had a splitting headache, but he obviously couldn’t leave to go apologise. Not now.

Time had started to blur. Minutes crawled by like days, but then suddenly an entire hour could disappear in a second. Hajime stayed sitting by Nagito’s side, periodically holding his hand, begging him to squeeze his back. Nagito lay still, but his breathing had evened out considerably since he’d been given this new medication. Hajime tried tickling at his cheeks and smoothing back his hair and Nagito twitched and sighed - tiny reactions, but they were reactions. Hajime hardly dared let himself hope and he definitely didn’t dare let himself sleep, though he was so tired now he had shooting pains behind his eyes.

Later - much later - Kazuichi came back, bringing Hajime toast and coffee. He looked startled by the state he was in. “Good God, Hajime, you look worse than Nagito!”

“Thanks a bunch,” Hajime grumbled. He didn’t touch the toast but took a grateful gulp of coffee.

“Seriously, bro, when did you last sleep? Or eat? Or… shower?” Kazuichi asked, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed.

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Have you seriously not slept since he got sick?”

“How can I?” Hajime snapped. “Will you please stop bleating obvious questions at me, Kazuichi. Yes, I’m fucking tired and hungry and I look like shit right now, I know. But I’m trying to make sure my boyfriend doesn’t die right in front of me, so forgive me if I can’t give much of a fuck about anything else! I don’t have the energy to deal with you right now. So can you please just shut up or fuck off!” He was practically screaming by the end of it. Part of him really wanted Kazuichi to yell back, start a real fight; he was so tired and so frustrated and it was so easy to take it out on Kazuichi.

But Souda didn’t argue. He didn’t speak, but his eyes filled up and he ducked his head to hide his quivering lips. Hajime felt a sudden wave of shame wash over his head. He didn’t want to make Kazuichi cry (even if that was pretty easy to do).

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, putting his head in his hands. “Yes, I’m tired. Tired and miserable. It’s not your fault.”

“I know you’re tired. I thought I could stay here. Keep watch over Nagito for a bit. You can sleep next to him,” Kazuichi said, his voice cracking.

Hajime felt worse than ever. “Shit. I’m sorry.” He grabbed Kazuichi and pulled him into a clumsy hug. “You’re a good friend. Better than me.”

“I’m your best friend, right?” Kazuichi asked hopefully. “You’re not just being nice? Am I actually just annoying?”

“You are annoying. But you’re still my best friend.”

Kazuichi grinned. “Okay. And you’ll get some rest now? I think you really need it, Hajime. You’re so grouchy when you’re tired.”

Hajime rather wanted to grumble about that comment, but he didn’t want to prove Souda’s point. “You’ll wake me up if anything changes with Nagito? Even something tiny. Even if you’re not sure it’s a change, can you wake me up to check?”

“Yes. God, you’re worse than Peko with Fuyuhiko. Do you really love him, Hajime?” Kazuichi asked.

“Look, we’re not at a pre-teen sleepover, Kazuichi. I don’t want to sit here with you and gossip about boys,” Hajime said, shuffling close to Nagito. He wasn’t sure - maybe it was wishful thinking - but he thought Nagito’s body was slightly cooler.

“See what I mean. Grumpy,” Kazuichi mumbled.

Hajime didn’t bother to reply this time. He didn’t think he’d manage to get a wink of sleep with all the stress and worry, but he was out like a light almost immediately, so exhausted he didn’t even dream. He wasn’t sure how long Kazuichi kept vigil at their bedside (several hours, he guessed. Kazuichi was a good friend) but he was gone when Hajime opened his eyes. The silvery dawn light was filtering in through the windows, bathing their furniture in a soft glow. Something was burrowing into Hajime’s chest like a small animal.

“Nagito..?” Hajime mumbled, still half-asleep.

“Of course. Who else do you invite into bed, Hajime?”

“Nobody, dumbass.” Then it clicked and Hajime was instantly awake, peering through the dim light. Nagito truly was awake, looking very pale and sleepy and weak, but his eyes were open. Hajime clutched onto him at once, holding him as tight as he dared. Nagito felt as fragile as glass, like he might shatter altogether if Hajime squeezed too hard.

“Careful, you’ll yank my IV out,” Nagito mumbled, but he buried his face into Hajime’s shoulder too. His skin was still clammy, still warm, but not that terrifying burning anymore. Nagito felt clammy all over. “You should wait till I’ve showered before we do all the tearful reunions.”

“Shut up. I need a shower too,” Hajime said hoarsely. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Fuck, it’s good to see you awake and talking.”

“How long was I out?”

“Several days. How much do you remember?”

Nagito paused. “I remember the night Mikan and Kazuichi came. It gets a bit muddled after that. Someone tried to make me drink quite a few times. Nothing much then. Except…”

“Except?”

“Perhaps I was dreaming. I couldn’t imagine somebody caring so much for someone like-”

“Oh Christ, I haven’t missed that,” Hajime groaned. “Just tell me what you remember!”

“You. Your voice, telling me not to die. Though it sounded more like you were threatening me not to die. And something dripping on me.”

Hajime felt his face flushing. It seemed like years ago that he’d hovered over Nagito and frantically begged him to keep fighting. “Trust you to remember something embarrassing like that.”

“Were you truly crying?”

“What else would I be doing? Drooling on you?”

“You hardly ever cry.”

“I’ve never seen you that sick before,” Hajime admitted. He held Nagito in the hug so he couldn’t see his face. It was somehow easier to blurt it all out in the gloomy morning half-light. “It was… fucking horrible. I didn’t dare sleep. I haven’t felt scared like that since the simulation. I thought I was going to lose you… just like Chiaki.”

There was a long, pregnant pause. Hajime could feel Nagito’s breath tickling against his neck.

“We smell awful,” Nagito finally whispered.

Hajime started spluttering with laughter. “For God’s sake! Can’t you ever be serious?”

“You know I don’t have any idea how to comfort people. But… you shouldn’t worry so much when I get sick. Not just because I’m me, but because my luck usually comes through for me eventually. It hasn’t let me die yet. Well, except in the simulation.”

“Shut up. Don’t talk about that,” Hajime said quickly. “Izuru has luck too. So that should mean I’m stuck with you forever.”

He rather expected Nagito to shoot back with some sort of self-deprecating response like “poor you” but Nagito was silent for a while. He was practically in Hajime’s lap now, his skinny legs wound around Hajime’s waist.

“Thank you.”

“Hm?” The words were so quiet Hajime barely heard.

“Thank you for taking care of me. Nobody has ever done that before,” Nagito said, his voice as light and delicate as the dawn. He still found it so hard to accept things like this. He’d spent so many years building walls around him and then Hajime had come along and blasted through them in an instant. Nagito felt raw and vulnerable and exposed - but there was a warm feeling in his stomach too, new and unfamiliar.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” Hajime promised.

“You’ll probably have to. My immune system is awful.”

“Then I will. Needing things isn’t bad, Nagito. You’re not meant to do things all alone.”

“The thing we need right now is a wash.”

“Yes. We’d better get that over with first,” Hajime agreed - but despite their words they both remained in their embrace, clinging to each other with desperate strength, long after that sun had risen properly.

[ibijau]

I’m a fucking DUMBASS and I read a prompt wrong but only realised as I was just about to post it :D So enjoy this jzx/jc that nobody actually asked for, I guess :D

It was Jin Zixuan’s idea to go explore, mostly because he was bored out of his mind. Visits to the Lotus Piers were never particularly fun to begin with, of course, but this time Jiang Yanli was not well enough to deal with visitors, so Jin Zixuan was stuck with her boring brother instead. 

At least, it was just her boring brother this time. The Jiangs had figured out that Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixuan really couldn’t get along, so he was always absent for one reason or another when the Jins visited. Which would have been great, because Jin Zixuan could be convinced to tolerate Jiang Yanli when nobody bothered him or teased him or upset him in any way, but she wasn’t there and now he was stuck with Jiang Cheng who everyone said wasn’t very bright or very skilled or anything, less good than the bastard Jiang Fengmian had taken in, anyway, and…

And Jin Zixuan hadn’t wanted to spend any amount of time alone with someone unskilled, so he’d suggested that Jiang Cheng make him visit the Lotus Piers and the town around.

It turned out to be more interesting than expected. Jin Zixuan had never really gone around the Lotus Piers, usually sticking close to his mother during visits, or having tea with Jiang Yanli. He had felt no particular curiosity, knowing that of course it had to be inferior to Carp Tower. His parents often said so, criticising the Lotus Piers for its relaxed atmosphere, for the way it was so accessible to common people, for its less showy aesthetics. But Jiang Cheng, proud beyond words of his home, explained why things had been organised a certain way, why the history of the Jiang sect had favoured certain choices. His usually dull and somewhat grumpy face illuminated as he talked about the Lotus Piers, glowing in a way Jin Zixuan never knew that people could do. He’d never seen anyone do that at home.

So Jin Zixuan listened, enraptured against his will, as Jiang Cheng explained the choices of his ancestor with a skill for lecturing that none of Jin Zixuan’s teachers ever had.

“And that’s why it’s important to Yunmeng Jiang to be easily accessible to common people,” Jiang Cheng concluded as they finished their tour. “If they have a duty to us, then we have a duty to them as well, so it’s only fair.”

“My father says if we’re too easy to reach, the commoners will forget their place and start thinking they can bother us with just all their problems,” Jin Zixuan retorted, less assuredly than he normally would be when quoting his father. Jiang Cheng’s arguments had been pretty good. Or maybe it was just the conviction with which he’d said them. Jin Zixuan wasn’t used to so much passion.

Jiang Cheng shrugged.

“Well, maybe the people of Lanling are lazy or stupid then. But here, people don’t usually bother us unless it’s really needed. Except old Liu, but mostly he just needs to be given something to eat and sent back to his house so it’s fine.

Jin Zixuan felt insulted on behalf of the people of his city, but he couldn’t really argue against that logic. It annoyed him though, because Lanling was the best place in the world, he’d always been told as much, so it stung to think that maybe the people living there could be trusted less than the fishermen and lotus farmers of Yunmeng.

There was a moment of silence after that, as Jin Zixuan tried to find a way to defend his home and his people. Even if he was pretty impressed with everything Jiang Cheng had shown and told, it was absolutely impossible to admit it.

“Do you want to go in town?” Jiang Cheng asked when the silence lasted too long for his taste. “I know where to get good candies.”

“We’ll need to find an adult to come with us,” Jin Zixuan protested. “And to ask for permission, and…”

“No we won’t,” Jiang Cheng retorted, throwing him a puzzled look. “The door’s right there, and as long as we stay on the big streets it’s fine. We’re twelve, who’s going to stop us from going around a bit?”

Jin Zixuan, who was barely allowed to visit even some part of Carp Tower without supervision, stared at Jiang Cheng as if he’d grown a second head.

The wise thing to do, of course, was to refuse this invitation. Jin Zixuan couldn’t say why when he refused, because Jiang Cheng was clearly used to far more freedom than him and would mock him for still being a baby who can’t do anything on his own. But it was clear that he had to refuse. His mother would absolutely murder him if he just disappeared like that, without warning anyone, without any grown-ups to look after him.

“Come on, let’s just go!” Jiang Cheng insisted, grabbing him by the arm as if they were close, something nobody would dare to do in Carp Tower. “It’ll be fun.”

Jin Zixuan should have protested.

He had to protest.

He did not, thrilled beyond words to be doing something forbidden.

Yunmeng was a very different sort of city from Lanling, a lot freer and noisier. Jin Zixuan wondered, briefly, if that was because the people living there just weren’t the same, or if it was because the people of Lanling made special efforts to be deferential toward Jin cultivators. Back home, nobody would ever have dared to shout at a junior disciple to come check their wares or try a dish, let alone shout at the heir apparent of the sect. But people were calling out Jiang Cheng's name as if he were just one of the other children playing in the street, complaining about how long it had been since he’d visited, teasing him about managing to get rid of Wei Wuxian for a day.

Jiang Cheng took it all in stride, glowing even more than he had done when offering a tour of his home. His face looked really different when he was smiling, and Jin Zixuan found himself wondering why Jiang Cheng didn’t smile more when it suited him so much better than his usual sour expression.

Not that Jin Zixuan had that much time to observe Jiang Cheng. The familiarity with which the other boy was greeted was extended to Jin Zixuan whenever Jiang Cheng introduced him as a visiting friend. People would ask him all sorts of questions about his visit and his family that he didn’t quite know how to answer, still reeling from Jiang Cheng calling him his friend. It was just easier than to explain Jin Zixuan was Jiang Yanli’s fiancé, of course, that was the only reason, but nobody had ever dared to presume they were Jin Zixuan’s friend before and he found it… nice.

Nicer than it should have been, for sure.

Nice enough that Jin Zixuan could tolerate being talked to so casually by merchants and street vendors.

It was fun, anyway, to be given so much food to try out. The candies that Jiang Cheng had mentioned as the goal of their little adventure were probably the most disgustingly sweet thing that Jin Zixuan had ever tasted, and he loved them even if they made his jaw ache. Most of the dishes were pretty nice as well, at least until Jiang Cheng made him taste a very red looking stew.

Jin Zixuan should have guessed, from the way Jiang Cheng and the vendor glanced at each other, from their barely restrained grins, that there was something fishy. But everything so far had tasted so good, and everyone had been so nice, and Jin Zixuan didn’t want to be rude. So he had a mouthful of the stew.

And nearly immediately broke into tears, his lips and tongue burning as if he’d swallowed fire. Jiang Cheng burst out laughing, the horrible little bastard, even though Jin Zixuan was in absolute agony. He’d never tasted anything like that, and he hated the heat clinging to every part of his mouth, refusing to cool down until Jiang Cheng took pity on him and paid for some white rice that surprisingly helped with the burning sensation.

“I trusted you,” Jin Zixuan hissed when the pain receded enough to speak.

“That’s your problem,” Jiang Cheng retorted.

“You! Is this how you treat everyone, or am I just unlucky?”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes, still grinning at the prank he’d just played, but he didn’t seem triumphant the way, say, Wei Wuxian would have been if he’d managed that.

Then again, Jin Zixuan would never have trusted Wei Wuxian in the first place.

“You’re just too dramatic,” Jiang Cheng accused, more teasing than anything. “Come on, I’ll get you some honey candies, it’ll help you.”

It did help, in fact. And while Jin Zixuan was a little more careful with tasting things after that, Jiang Cheng didn’t try to trick him again. In fact, he even warned him against trying certain dishes, explaining that these too were spicy, even if they didn’t look like it. For some reason, it made Jin Zixuan’s heart beat a little faster each time. He assumed it was the fear of nearly tasting something painful again, and was mildly grateful to Jiang Cheng for protecting him.

All things considered they had a great time in town together. It was probably the best afternoon of Jin Zixuan’s life, and he found himself wishing he could come visit Lotus Piers more often. It wasn’t so bad to spend time with Jiang Cheng, when it was just him.

[epitheterasedgen]

That last ask got me wondering, in the EAM au what is everyone's schedules? It's gotta be hectic right?

Most days:

Molly: Has to wake up early for school, then hangs out at home afterwards. She usually chills in her room for a few hours before coming back out to do chores, since there is always some kind of chaos going on outside.

Sylvie: Works from his office; his days and hours (and therefore sleep schedule) vary based on his clients’ needs.

Giovanni: Hangs out with his BOYS!!! And does “infiltration work” (volunteering at charities). He doesn’t go to school or have an... actual job yet, which Percy pesters him about a LOT, but Ramsey is pretty adamant about making her lay off. The kid’s still trying to figure things out; for now, his job is making dinner for anyone who wants it.

Mera: Sleeps in as long as she can before some random pain wakes her up, then spends an hour showering and getting ready even though she isn’t going anywhere. She likes to look nice. Watches a lot of videos on the internet, chats with and/or pesters Ramsey if he’s home, blogs a little, and works on paintings when she’s feeling inspired (which is usually the bad days).

Indus: Wakes up bright and early (sunrise) to go to work!! Howie takes him and although he is tired he’s very excited to see all his friends (worker bees) again! Usually assigned to heavy lifting jobs under supervision. When he gets home sometimes Giovanni lets him help cook dinner!

Percy: Wakes up early and drives Molly to school before going to work. Files papers, patrols cities, and makes bets with Meryl on the crime rate. Picks up Molly unless there’s a mystery to solve, in which case she calls Ramsey to take care of her.

Ramsey: Sleeps in, eats any leftovers in the fridge, then hangs out at home or goes somewhere with free wifi to work on commissions. Percy calls him if they need him at the station or if Molly or Gio have to be driven somewhere.

Zora: Who knows, man. Sometimes she’s gone before the sunrise. Sometimes she sleeps ‘til noon. Sometimes she stays home all day and bullies whoever and sometimes she goes off to who-knows-where and comes back with deer meat for dinner.

Howie: Works.

Weekends:

Molly: Sleeps in as long as she possibly can. And then plays Animal Crossing. And then texts Trixie and Phoenica. Honestly, just absorbs all the relaxing possible so long as Chaos (TM) doesn’t happen.

Sylvie: Helps Percy with taxes and plays chess with Molly. Sometimes he has to work weekends (actually often, since that’s when people are available), but he knows Sundays are important to Percy so he tries very hard not to schedule work then.

Giovanni: Causes Chaos (TM) and/or jumps onboard with anything Ramsey or the other “fun adults” are doing. Sometimes his Boys come over for video games, but he has to get Percy’s permission.

Mera: Enjoys having more people around (even if she won’t say it), and often jumps on any fun activities other people are doing as long as Indus can bodyguard her. Will often propose and/or initiate shopping trips.

Indus: Whatever Lady Mera wants to do! And sometimes works out with Giovanni, who wants to raise his stamina so he can be an EVEN STRONGER BAD GUY!

Percy: Has a detailed schedule for herself on weekends, but is very particular about “family Sundays.” She read about them in a book once and has resolutely stood by them ever since. Sometimes the other family members don’t really wanna participate, but you know what? They always have fun by the end of it. Activity varies— sometimes Percy forces everyone to go hiking; other times Ramsey loads them all into the van and takes them to a theme park.

Ramsey: Seems sporadic about his decisions, but secretly plans possible trips in advance all the time when he thinks he can convince Percy to let them happen (or get everyone else on his side so Percy is outnumbered).

Zora: Usually around for weekends, though it’s never guaranteed, and likes to play board games with anyone who’ll play with her. This is difficult because they know how she gets when she loses.

Howie: Works. Kidding. Sort of. Percy and everyone else in the EAM had to collectively wrestle him to the ground to get him to agree to take ANY time off, EVER. Percy finally swayed him into at least staying home and only doing home projects on Sundays so that he’s around.

[designsfromtime]

Mixing Business & Friendships:

“Friendship is friendship, business is business.”

It’s been wisely said that, “friendship interferes with a business relationship by keeping people from making the right business choices for the sake of the friendship.” Kind of like closing the barn door after the cow escapes, but yeah, I definitely agree...NOW. There are plenty more witty quotes that warn against the pitfalls of mixing friendships with business. So, what does my dumbass do? - I mixed a friendship with my business. Two years ago I brought a friend to work with me as an apprentice, and it  blew up back in March 2021 and bit me in the arse - BIG TIME! 

So, why doesn’t it work? - I ask myself rhetorically, then elbow my intuition when it says, “Told you so.” 

In my personal experience, mixing friendship with business blurred the professional boundaries, and led to multiple abuses on the part of my “friend,” i.e., calling out sick for “PMS,” or other reasons that would never be acceptable if that person were NOT a “friend.” They also may not respect your authority because the person disciplining them for, let’s say, unacceptable communication, or sub-standard work, is the same person they were drinking with at the pub last weekend, or chilling on the patio for a BBQ. In a word, friends (or family) can take advantage of the relationship and feel that the rules don’t apply to them, leaving you to choose between taking care of the friendship rather than taking care of your business! I could NOT have anticipated the horrific outcome at the end of that working relationship, and it’s left me gobsmacked.

The foundations of friendships (or with a family member) and that of subordinate and superior are inherently different. How does a child act as the superior to a parent they hire to work for them? And vise versa, how does a child work for a parent without dragging their interpersonal baggage into the workplace? The same is true of a friendship. In a friendship, the continued existence of that relationship depends on whether both parties can successfully maneuver the intricacies of a friend being placed in the position of a subordinate. But, in my opinion, I think it’s RARE to truly keep your business relationship and your interpersonal relationship separate. I would venture to say it’s close to impossible. One way or the other, your friendship will bleed into the working relationship and it can spell DRAMA and betrayal in the end. Mixing interpersonal relationships with business involves a lot of compromise on the part of both persons, and if one lacks in communication skills and does not respect boundaries, it’s doomed to blow up in your face, as it did for me. Not only does it bring hardship to the business when the relationship ends, but you lose that friendship.

No matter how close the friendship, when you mix business and friendships, the primary consideration should always be what is best for the business. In a perfect world, the business should be treated as an entity separate from the friendship and that distinction needs to be laid out plainly and diligently protected! – and respected by both parties. What happens when the work relationship becomes problematic because that person is not delivering what was expected? Well, I can tell you this much: When it get’s rough, and it will, you cannot rely on the “honor system” you expect from a friend (or a close relative). To save the business, it can involve losing your friend – More especially if that friend doesn’t respect the boundaries that are inherently different in a business setting than they would be whilst slamming wine-coolers at a BBQ.

I’m sure there are plenty of examples where friends and family members have successfully maneuvered the boundaries of business and interpersonal relationships. That said, not all relationships (or people) are evolved enough to handle being placed in a position as a subordinate to their friend, so it will take careful consideration when, or if, you choose to mix the two. The most important part when mixing business and interpersonal relationships, ESPECIALLY if you are the business owner and you extend a friend an opportunity in your business, is to make sure both of you have similar expectations and values - - AND that you write it out in a contract and have both parties sign it!  

 Where Did I Go Wrong?: Let me recount the ways.

 When my business grew to the point that I could not singularly keep up with the demand for commission inquiries, I put the intention out there in the universe that I needed a very particular person to bring on as an unpaid apprentice (with the intention of them graduating to a sub-contractor). First of all, I don’t get paid by the hour, and therefore, cannot afford to pay an hourly wage. I get paid by the pattern piece, i.e., how many pieces in any respective garment that I physically sew together. Most of the time I take a 20% non-refundable deposit to hold a reservation on my schedule, but I don’t get paid until the commission is complete and ready to ship. So it can take 4 or 5 months before I am paid in full. That meant that any candidate for an apprentice would have to possess a deep passion for costuming rather than money being the motivation. It also meant I cannot afford to pay for “student” work, so any candidate I chose would have to approach an apprenticeship with an attitude of “I’m taking classes.” Unless you take out student loans and grants, students are not compensated for attending class. The compensation as an apprentice in my studio was the opportunity to work side-by-side with someone more knowledgeable, with the expectation that eventually, when said apprentice possess the requisite skills and knowledge, that they can eventually begin to take on work as a “monitored” sub-contractor and bill the client directly for their labor.

 In my. . . well. . . let’s just call it for what it was…DESPERATION…I took on an apprentice after becoming acquainted through our local Renfaire. I’d been searching for about two years, so when the opportunity presented itself, I took it as a sign from the universe. Boy was I naïve. This person joined our renfaire as a cast member in the Queen’s household (of which I was an administrator). I noted her impulsivity and propensity to be overly enthusiastic and run with an idea without seeking permission through the established chain of command, but I didn’t question how that would come in to play in our working relationship, or in a relationship of superior and subordinate. Her pattern of impulsivity and disregard for procedure wasn’t interpreted by me as the red flag it should have been. Had I been listening to my instincts rather than the desire to be able to take on more work, this pattern would have served as the warning it turned out to be. I see now in the aftermath of the implosion that took place how it should have been.

 Don’t Ignore Red Flags: NOW you tell me!

In the early stages of our working association, she appeared enthusiastic – overly so, resulting in me having to rein her in and reiterate the instructions to: “slow down,” and “ask questions.” I told her if she’d never made a certain item before she needed to stop and ask first rather than blunder through and construct it the way she “thought” it might need to be done, she needed to seek guidance about the way I had established it to be done. I would, unfortunately, end up repeating that same instruction ad nauseum throughout her tenure with me. The longer she worked with me, and more especially after about a year or more when she was allowed to begin to take on work as a subcontractor (which was to be done ONLY in my studio under my supervision), she began to ignore that directive more and more. I found myself in the unique and extremely uncomfortable situation of choosing whether or not to say, “It doesn’t meet the same standards as my work, please do it again,” and feeling hesitant to discourage her or coming off as bitchy or overly perfectionistic for fear of how it would affect the friendship. I walked a fine line between necessary criticism and her over sensitivity to that kind of feedback. 

I cannot tell you how MANY times when I was learning to sew at the side of my grandmother she told me, “Pick it out, Chrissie.” It was frustrating, and I would moan in complaint, but I always did it because she was never harsh in her criticism but would explain where I had made the mistake and show me how to correct it. In consequence, THIS is how I teach. I always lead with positive affirmation. But there are some personalities who are overly sensitive to any criticism and no matter how you attempt to moderate your tone, or what medium you choose to communicate, they will take it harshly. It became exhausting maneuvering around her bruised psyche. Any other supervisor would not have made the effort. See where I’m going with this? 

 I also had deadlines constantly looming that placed me in a predicament of letting work go out that wasn’t “perfect” but was “passing.” I HATED being placed in that situation because I am a perfectionist, and the only way to learn is to learn by making mistakes. But I didn’t have TIME for her mistakes – nor could I afford for her to continue to waste fabrics and supplies! Because of this, a pattern began to develop that became increasingly more problematic. I purposefully took on EXTRA work with the intention of sub-contracting out the labor to her, so I “needed” her help. But by virtue of the friendship, an attitude of “I’ll get it done when I get it done,” began to emerge. Now, I don’t know if that was her actual intention, but it certainly began to appear as such. When I allowed her to take hand sewing home, such as working on the edging of a pair of stays, she began to hold on to the work at home but not actually finish it. I told her that after putting in 6 to 8 hours here in my studio I did not expect her to stay up all night and finish the handwork, but if she took work home there was an expectation on my part that she would return it within a few days. Now she was only in my studio 3 to 4 days a week (at least the last year of her affiliation). While I certainly appreciated when she worked in the evenings after her job as the manager of a Super Cuts, or on the weekend, I did not expect it. But, it became an issue when her turn-around times to complete the hand sewing began to take longer, and longer, and LONGER; spanning weeks at a time! 

 Now, I should mention just for the sake of reference that I can hand sew the edging on a full pair of stays in about 12 hours. She had worked with me over a year before she felt comfortable enough to tackle a pair of stays. While her hand sewing was NOT as neat as mine (even at the end of the relationship), I did make some allowances for the sake of not discouraging her by picking a part her work. I continually had to check in with myself by asking: is it unacceptable because it looks different than yours, or does she have the capability of doing better? She did make progress in her hand stitching with my instruction, but there were definitely times I asked her to fix it, OR I would pick out her work and redo it. There were times I didn’t tell her, which in hindsight was a mistake on my part. Re-doing her work was NOT an efficient use of my time, nor was it conducive to her instruction, but my clients’ satisfaction is my highest priority, so you can see the conundrum I found myself. 

In the end, I was trying to avoid upsetting “her” and not cause more DRAMA because she was intent on a scorched earth scenario to punish me for daring to tell her “No.” Many times I was too hesitant to say anything “in the moment,” but would later ruminate on it after the fact, and THEN a day or so later after scolding myself for being too bloody kind, I would be forced to bring it up and say, “I changed my mind,” or just fix it when she left for the day. I should mention, that if she were not a friend I would have set much stricter boundaries about quality control. So why didn’t I do that with HER?  I’m still trying to figure that one out!! It all boils down to two VERY different personality types, and the fact that my communication skills and knowledge about emotional IQ was far more advanced. Rather than avail herself of my knowledge in effective communication she was the type of person who did not respond to “touchy feely shit,” as she called it. More often than not, I feared poking the bear. What would I do if I was too critical and she walked out in a huff or quit? *HEAVY SIGH* So, the problem wasn’t that I didn’t know HOW to communicate, it was how that communication would be received on any given day, or “which side” of her personality showed up that day.

The breakdown of the relationship ultimately occurred when I allowed her to take on a client’s commission for two 18th century men’s court ensembles for an event at Versailles Palace in France. She was actually doing VERY well on lining up the embroidery, and construction of the outer portion of the jackets and waistcoat pieces, UNTIL she decided that she had the RIGHT to argue with my instructions and design aesthetics. I told her, for instance, “Make sure you add a layer of stabilizer to the lining.” She balked and said, “I wasn’t planning on adding stabilizer.” Now this wasn’t a statement with a silent question mark at the end, this was an “I’m not going to do it” kind of statement. This began happening more and more and I was at a loss “in the moment” how to deal with it. I was walking a tightrope between a friend and my business, and I wasn’t putting the business first. Rather than ASK me why I felt the interlining needed to be stabilized (since it was silk) she simply made the decision to ignore my instruction and ultimately bulldozed forward with the work at her home without seeking any instruction and using ad hoc techniques when she ran into a problem she didn’t know how to deal with. 

 But you see, by the time things began to actively boil, I had finally put my foot down on this project and told her I had the final say in ALL design and construction and If I say “do it” she needs to do it and not argue. I mean, who does that? Who tells the owner of the business “No?” Who thinks they have the right to argue? - A FRIEND. I had 40 years of experience under my belt, 20 in historical costume, she had TWO! But you see, her ego was writing checks her abilities and knowledge could not cash, and I was becoming more and more concerned about the work piling up. COVID did a number on my business. I stayed JUST as busy, but buying basic supplies was problematic, and it put me behind by about 4 or 5 months, which is unheard of for me! I always make my deadlines. ALWAYS. 

Things kind of happened quickly, like dominos. One drops and knocks over the the other and pretty soon sets off a chain reaction. THE FINAL implosion came when we ran into a situation wherein we both needed to use my sewing machine. I had stated in the beginning that ALL work done on the machine needed to be done in my studio. This was not just because she did not have a good machine at home, it was so that I could continue to oversee the quality of her work. I have a semi-pro Juki straight stitch machine that will sew through leather. In the past she had talked about one day purchasing one. Also, in passing conversation last year I mentioned that I was thinking of moving out of Washington. My daughter wants to relocate to Vermont because the cost for horse property here in WA would cost us in excess of about 2 million dollars! I mentioned that there was no set plans and that it would be 4 or 5 years if we did make that decision. I mentioned that if by then she was trained enough that I was considering letting her subcontract work at home and use Skype or Zoom for any teaching or instruction. This was just a passing conversation mind you! 

So when we found ourselves both in need of using my machine one day in March, without consulting with me she took it upon herself to go out and purchase a machine exactly like mine for about $1400 if I’m not mistaken – even though you can get them much cheaper from other sources. But here’s where her long-standing pattern of impulsivity, disrespect for proper chain of command, and her lack of boundaries came into play. She showed up one Saturday afternoon while I was working in my studio and announced, “Guess what I did?” She then proceeded to inform me that she had purchased a machine of her own. Now, we had discussed this possibility in the past two years but I had stated she would need to bring her machine into the studio. Remember, all her machine work needed to be monitored for quality control. Why? While she was making progress, her work was often inconsistent. My expectation was that she would bring her machine into the studio, but SHE had other plans. I honestly believe she felt because she was doing so well on the outer construction of these 18th century coats that she was READY to solo; and in fact, that was her exact expectation. She set up her new machine at home and in the days following the purchase of her machine (before she was scheduled to appear at my studio the following Wednesday), she began construction on the coat pockets at home without my knowledge and without my guidance.

Now, for those who’ve followed me for a while you might remember that I said I’m extremely intuitive? – which is why I’m so mad at myself for not honoring my intuition and setting hard boundaries much earlier. She’s run roughshod over me for two years now, and I wasn’t having it anymore. I sent her a Marco Polo (a video message app) and I set a hard boundary as I mentioned above. I thought that this mode of communication would make it easier to say what needed to be said because both of us were spared the discomfort that usually followed when I DID speak out. So, after I set CLEAR boundaries about who was in charge, I further explained that if it was her intention to start working predominately at home and only coming into the studio when there was embroidery to do or pick up supplies (YES! I was supplying her with ALL the notions and supplies for construction!) then she needed to know that I was not in agreement with that. I told her if coming to work in my studio wasn’t working for her any longer then we would finish the work on the books, and I would cut back and only take those commissions that I could physically handle. I told her to take a couple of days to talk it over with her boyfriend and we would talk on Wednesday about what she decided. 

She came in that Wednesday visibly angry and became insubordinate when I attempted to discuss her assumption that I would agree to her working at home on MY client’s commissions without first seeking my approval. She defended herself by bringing up our conversation last year about her working from home “if” i moved out of state. I told her, “Yeah, four or five years down the road!” But she had just assumed that I would be fine with her moving up that time table. She refused to listen and then proceeded to gaslight me, stating that because I had sent her a message via Marco Polo, rather than waiting until she came in on Wednesday, that our working relationship was OVER. I looked at her in shock and said, “So NOW you’re gas lighting me, turning this around to blame ME rather than accept accountability for your actions?” She then proceeded to THREATEN that if I continued to try to discuss these issues with her she was walking out. She went so far as to gather up the coat pieces and started to pack them up! I was stunned! I said, “So let me get this straight. You’d rather QUIT than admit you were wrong for making assumptions about MY business?” Needless to say, she refused to answer and scowled and pouted like a five year old!

 I have to say I was actually relieved that she quit. Her attitude and her attendance had become more and more problematic. I had set a boundary with her back in January when she, once again, texted me and said “Just woke up. I feel like crap.” Now she’d complained the day before that she was having PMS (i.e., premenstrual mood swings) and would call out ONCE A MONTH for that reason. Having had a craw full of her taking advantage of our friendship in such a manner (something that wouldn’t be acceptable in any other professional setting, nor was it behavior she would tolerate from her own employees as a manager at Super Cuts), I texted her back stating: “Me too. I woke up with a migraine. Took two Aleeve and two RedBulls. Soldier on.” That was actually the beginning of the end. She was PISSED that I told her to work through her PMS like I do the chronic pain I live with on a 24/7 basis. She even admitted it. That’s when her attitude began to shift, but it was when she was allowed to work on the 18th century ensembles that she became more increasingly uncooperative and argumentative. There’s a saying in the south that describes that behavior: She got too big for her britches.

She didn’t stay long that Wednesday, and no-showed for her scheduled workday the following day, and the day after, without so much as a courtesy text or a Marco Polo - which was also a long-standing issue! During those two days after she bought her machine and set up her sewing room at her home, she took it upon herself to sew the pocket bags into the coats without my permission and installed them incorrectly! She had one a full ½ inch off from the other. This was the SECOND time she’d made that same exact mistake! Rather than measure carefully and line them up exactly using a tape measure and a ruler, she eyeballed them and messed it up. We had to hide this mistake beneath the pocket flap! These ensembles were going to be worn and photographed at Versailles Palace! Half-assing construction like that horrified me! Now, she’d already installed the pocket bags, which meant the outer coat where the pocket “slit” was installed had been CUT. The only recourse to correcting her mistake would have been to buy more fabric and start over! But now there wasn’t time for that! It took four months for her to embroider those coats because she only comes in three days a week and our relationship had now melted down.

Not only did she mess up the pockets, because she was too busy behaving like a petulant, rebellious child and refused to seek my advice, she ran across a problem she didn’t know how to deal with and she “added” embroidery floss to the underside of the buttonholes because she had ignored my advice to stabilize the lining, and she said the fabric was too flimsy around the buttonholes! It was a spiderweb looking mess!!! Yes, it was in the inside, but had she LISTENED to me initially or asked me what to do I could have offered her a better alternative. Once again, I was placed in the position that I had to consider my deadlines and make a decision if the work was “passable” or if I needed to step in and fix it. Initially I said nothing because the tension between us was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I ruminated on it for a day, then ultimately decided I was FINISHED allowing her to bully me and told her I needed her to bring back the ensembles so that I could inspect them further, because I wasn’t happy with her workmanship. She REFUSED. She said, “you had plenty of time to inspect them previously,” and then proceeded to hold the client’s property hostage and tried to extort the client and me! She demanded she be given the client’s billing information before she would return the ensembles for me to “fix.” She knew more than likely she was going to be held liable for her shoddy work, in fact I told her that I would be deducting my labor from what was owed. I was angry but I tried to be reasonable. 

The client agreed to release his billing info if she would agree to return his property to me immediately. I offered to write it on a piece of paper and make the exchange with a neutral third party. She refused all fair and reasonable offers, and stated, “I guess we’re at a standoff.”  For two weeks I spent searching for an attorney, but ultimately was told that because there was no contract there wasn’t a great deal I could do. On the flip side, neither could she! Not real comforting when your client’s property is being held hostage and the clock is ticking. She was counting on that!  She knew there was a short deadline and that their event in France was fast approaching.

After two weeks wherein she had made no effort whatsoever to cooperate and refused to respond to my texts, the client and I put our heads together and we decided that perhaps she might be more reasonable if HE texted her and in essence sent her a demand letter. She kept demanding his PayPal ID in order to bill him for the work, and we agreed. I wasn’t exactly thrilled with giving in to her extortion, but at the time we had no choice – which she was ultimately counting on. I pause in this telling to state how devastated I was by her vicious 180 degree reversal wherein she turned against me! I was stunned by the depths of her vitriol and the pettiness of her retaliation – simply for having set boundaries with her!

But you see, Karma has a way of sorting things out. Due to COVID my clients received word that their event was postponed, so she had lost her leverage. About the same time as the client received that notice from Versailles, I was made aware of a situation she had created with another client! At the end of 2019, she took on a commission for a mutual friend at our faire to make him a doublet, hat, and shirt. She begged me to allow her to take the lead on that project and I wanted to see what she was capable of producing. So, I stepped back and let her make design decisions and color combination of black with silver embroidery (which the client ultimately wasn’t happy with). She spent the next year or more doing multiple revisions, even starting over with four different sets of sleeves as well as the torso of the doublet, because she didn’t have the knowledge to do a proper fitting. Every time I tried to intervene, she would snap at me. Ultimately, I was in the dark about the client’s dissatisfaction. To put a finer point on it, she actually didn’t allow the client to try on the garment after each revision. He lived close to her so she would just drop it off on her way home, and when I would ask her if she took pictures so I could judge the fit, she lied and said she forgot to take them, and stated the client was happy! He was NOT happy.

In the meantime, after multiple revisions and the garment still didn’t fit, she lied to him and stated, “Christine says it’s as good as it’s going to get,” and essentially abandoned the client who had spent $1100 for a doublet, shirt and hat that DID NOT FIT! In what reality would I ever tell a client that? NONE! So, I offered to make it right for him, and stated I would remake the entire order at my expense. Look, I’ve spent enough time in customer service training to know that statistically speaking one unhappy client will tell TEN other people about their experience, and indeed, unbeknownst to me it was already being whispered about that I had authorized the crap she had produced, so I had to do some quick talking and negotiating because my reputation was on the line! I knew damn well at this stage I would never recover the damages, but I invoiced her anyway for the $1200 (I had to buy fabric @ $30 a yard and other notions).

So, after the “Versailles” client texted her and gave her his PayPal ID, rather than honor her agreement to return the ensembles to me, she raised her demands! She was now demanding that she be allowed for the payment to go through BEFORE she returned the client’s property to me! Regardless of how angry I was, I was still offering to allow her to at least bill for half of her labor, after informing her that the client’s event in France had been postponed for a year. I informed her about the damage I incurred in the interim from the client she had abandoned and told her I would be deducting the $1200 from any outstanding balances she was to bill the clients. Just like all the other fair and reasonable attempts to garner a response, she ignored me. 

The client and I let another 24 hours pass, and when she failed to respond, I then wrote and informed her that we decided to cut our losses, that she had over played her hand, and that rather than try to negotiate any further with an extortionist, I would be remaking the client’s 18th Century ensembles and she could keep those she had made - and get NOTHING. I should have felt some kind of vindication over that turn of events, but now I had to set aside 6 months out of my schedule to clean up her mess rather than taking new clients who had contacted me. Let me be clear. I happily made the offer to remake these three commissions, it’s just damned frustrating that it is going to take me a FULL year to recover. Not only did I have to refund one client on my books and cancel the order, but I had to contact ALL 20 clients on my books and explain that I am having to spread out work meant for two people over the next several months, and now half my 2022 schedule is full! - Which means I will have to turn away work!

I’m frustrated yes, but I’m stunned by her callousness and the realization that she was never the person I esteemed her to be. No true friend would have turned on me the way she did and scorched the earth to try to hurt me and my business. And for what? Because she didn’t get her way? So in the end, I not only lost a friend, but I’ve also lost in excess of about $1652 in damages all because I mixed friendship with business.

Don’t be Afraid to Establish or Re-establish Boundaries and Expectations:

It’s not fair to you, nor is it ultimately fair to the friend you bring into your business, not to set strict boundaries up front and revisit them often. Now, I DID have a contract I had drawn up and she did review it, but I relied on my expectation of her trustworthiness rather than my intuition BECAUSE she was my friend. I feared offending her. Surely, she wouldn’t abuse my trust? – She’s my friend! If you can’t trust your friends, who CAN you trust? – Right? WRONG!

 If I had it to do over again, I would have had her sign the contract EVEN if she were offended. If she had become offended that would have been a HUGE red flag! I also would have held evaluations a minimum of four times a year wherein I sat down and reviewed her performance with her and communicate where I saw she needed improvement, as well as where I saw she had made progress and I would have put it in WRITING. I would have also insisted she keep a journal of the techniques I taught her. Instead, I kept a running dialog with her with the expectation she would remember and follow them.

In the end I take responsibility for not setting hard and fast boundaries and establishing my position as “the buck stops with me.” Looking back I would make her accountable for every mistake she made. 

So, take heed of this precautionary tale. Business and interpersonal relationships do NOT mix. What’s the lesson you might ask? Well, clearly I need to bone up on my self-assertion skills for women, but I will never, EVER take on another apprentice let alone someone who is a friend. This means that my availability will be less, and I will have to go back to being booked out a year in advance. But flying solo is the only way to ensure my clients commissions are of the highest quality. 

 In the end I think John D. Rockefeller has the right of it: “A friendship founded on business is better than a business founded on a friendship.” I have made “friendships” from clients. They’ve become CLOSE friends as a matter of fact. All of these relationships have worked out with the exception of ONE. I wrote about it here on my blog over a year ago (”When it all goes South”). But bringing friends into your business from my experience is just a recipe for disappointment and will result in the death of that friendship. 

Lesson learned universe. 

[finiffy]

Caretaker au idea train is still rolling! So I’m going on to my next long ask: what life is like for a human scp!

Starting with their rooms, cause they really are rooms. One of the first things a new anomalous human is asked to do upon arriving is picking a wall colour and bed spreads. The room is styled like a mix of bedroom and living room, with an attached bathroom, and while things have to be chosen to be sturdy, it’s good furniture and not prison-style stuff. Things can be shuffled around if a scp comes in with a special consideration needed (reactions to a certain fabric, can’t have sharp edges on furniture, etc.), but the general rule is comfort first and then long-lasting.

After furniture, personal possessions will be moved in. These are things that were picked up from their life outside the foundation and have been given the all-clear from check-in staff. Things like clothes and precious personal items fall into this category. Some will start to be put away before the scp moves into their room, but most will be left up to them. The foundation has found that them rearranging their clothes in the wardrobe and working out where to put prized decorations has helped the scp settle in more and start to feel like the space is theirs. The only thing they tweak is making sure they don’t have too much to do at once, in the interest of making sure they don’t get overwhelmed. So things are brought in stages.

The anomalous human can make requests for new things, and they’ll fall into one of two categories. Needs and wants; needs are covered without question and as quickly as possible, while wants are mostly granted but they do have a budget. Mostly so that they don’t go completely off the rails; “No, you can’t have an Xbox, a PlayStation, and a Switch. Pick one”. I’d imagine there’s a system in place for human scps to earn money around the site. Things like doing little chores or acting as assistants that they can receive a pay check for, letting them buy desired luxuries at their leisure.

After a short settling in period, they’ll be given a keycard that lets them go in and out of their room as well as access any safe areas of the site; probably on a lanyard with a unique colour so they can be identified. So places like the staff cafeteria and break rooms, community kitchens, and any levels that are predominantly safe. This allows them to pretty much free roam as they please. It won’t allow them to go up to the exit or down to the levels where dangerous scps are housed though. Their keycard is tied to their particular room door; another human scp’s keycard is not able to open their personal room. It allows some privacy and control; scp friends can come in, but they have to be invited in. There’s also a curfew of 10pm, at which time they have to be back in their own rooms unless they’re staying with another and have already gotten permission to do so (they can have sleepovers). This is mostly for safety reasons; if something happens during the night shift, a breach or an attack or something, the staff need to know where everyone is. And their rooms are honestly one of the safest places for them to be, designed to keep anomalies in check yes, but also designed to keep out anything unwanted, protecting those inside. Before any are allowed to start roaming, they are taught the breach and attack warning sirens, so that they know when to run for cover.

When a human scp is first allowed to free roam, they’ll be shown around by another human scp, preferably one as close to them in age as possible; encouraging to make friends. The staff try to group anomalous humans together in the interest of them bonding. Internet is, something I’m still thinking about, but I think they’d be allowed on the internet on devices modified so that they can’t post or upload anything. Exception being the foundation-made chat server (I imagine something like discord); then they can keep in contact with any friends they made easily.

Each human scp has a member of staff who is their primary caretaker. They oversee everything to do with them and pass the important calls on to Caretaker while making the smaller judgements themselves. If a human scp has a member of staff as a family member that they’re close to, they’ll usually be the one chosen for the role (so, dr Bright for TJ, and Clef for Meri). They’ll also be connected to a therapist that they’ll see regularly.

If a human scp is a minor, schooling will continue for them. At the very least, all are encouraged to complete high school. And if one wants to continue their studies on, the foundation will support them. (Me shoving in my ‘TJ would have become a medical practitioner if he’d been given the chance’ headcanon)

There are some things they need supervision for. No rooms come with a kitchen; knives and fires and other sharp things were judged as just too much a risk. They can eat in their rooms or at the staff cafeteria; but if they really want to cook or bake something, there are community kitchens for staff, and humans scps can use it so long as they have a member of staff keeping an eye on them. I’m thinking they do get to go outside sometimes, with supervision and only after not being a flight risk, cause outside is important to health, but I’m running out of steam now.

There is so much thought into this and I love it so much. I imagine that the different scps play like minecraft with eachother. Like they have their own server to themselves. Then in the kitchen they get to cook stuff together (I really want Tj, Meri, and Draven trying to bake for the first time and failing at it)

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP Meme from "Chapter Two: The Grove" in the Children of Gaia Tribebook from "Werewolf: The Apocalypse" Part Two of Two

The Hole of the Goddess? Which hole is that?

What will you do for the pack?

The species still lives.

We lamented that their honor was gone

Their honor is gone.

Their honor is gone. But know that their valor and strength are not.

So what do they do? Besides talk.

They move us to remember. And to remember is to act.

The fact that they lived and died should move us to do something!

Good takedown there!

This is the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen.

I think it’s cool. That people feel free enough to do this, you know.

You a fan of this stuff? Or just like the show?

It's pretty neat to watch, yeah.

Y’know, the rave’s starting up soon at the second stage

It didn’t work, really. I don’t know if you noticed.

What didn’t work? What rite were you trying to perform?

I, uh, hope it works out better next time.

You feel okay? Happy? Didn’t hurt you, did I?

I mean, don’t you think it’s wrong or something?

Going to blame it on the cheap beer?

Yeah, I know I’m gay.

But, I mean, you’re a wolf!

When I’m a wolf I don’t want you, or anybody, except when the time and the company are right.

It’s — no, don’t ask. It’s too complicated, take my word for it.

I’m human, or at least mostly human.

Aren’t we supposed to. . . not do this?”

Well, the Bible stuff is for humans, one or two religions’ worth.

Oh, things change.

Sorry. But that’s what it means.

Careful. Really careful. Our bodies don’t work like a human’s, so pills and condoms don’t always work either.

But isn’t that rule kind of, well, outdated?

If I was dating a human, I couldn’t have his head in my lap, not most places.

This is one of the lesser commandments these days.

It’s not something you can wish away.

There’s a reason for that rule.

I think it’s good to be polite.

We can make alliances more easily if we respect others’ beliefs, not just their territory.

Do you think that your preaching nonviolence means we don’t have to fight?

Even humans created diplomacy and statecraft.

When we must have a leader, when we need to order, there are better ways than fighting.

We didn’t invent democracy, but it does work better than one—man rule.

Do we need one? I don’t think we do.

You started it!

I am not some kind of patriarchal authority figure.

I think it’s an outmoded idea.

You don’t even try to understand them.

Look, no offense, [NAME], but you’re crazy.

You got us together, got us here.

You’re not dominating us. You can’t make us do things.

But we need you. Someone. Someone to intersee, not oversee. Someone to subvise, not supervise.

Look, I don’t want to tell people what to do. It would take too long.

Others are the most popular.

That’s practical, because it means you can get others to listen to you.

Is it your pleasure to attend?

That was weird.

Who was that?

Yeah, there are a lot of old forms of courtesy you’ll see sometimes.

Food isn’t always plentiful.

The strong need to be strong.

Social Darwinism, dammit.

So what good is that to me?

It's about sharing, period.

It’s your damn passion for social justice, okay?

It is the truth, not grass to be twisted and woven.

It’s words. If they mean something different to me, you’ve no right to call me wrong.

Just about every human society I ever heard of has rules against eating human flesh, most human flesh, most of the time.

Do we respect them?

We show them respect — sometimes just by keeping our distance.

This is the worst one for us.

We’re all of us closer to the humans than safety would wish

I think that it meant not to waste resources.

The old way was to leave the sick and weak to die.

You say you’re not a leader, but what would you do if we ever ran into bad trouble?

Nothing sexual.

You’re the hero. You should know.

No anarchists in foxholes.

This is a powerful place, no lie.

I think that the humans are safer with us here than not.

What if there’s trouble?

So always ask if you bring someone, anyone.

We need to avoid fighting.

Ants fight, but they don’t waste continents doing it.

I really need to know this stuff, so can we drop the politics?

We are really one tribe.

They’re all women? Are they lesbos?

We were passing a bottle of shine round and telling dirty stories--why are you looking at me that way?

I mean, they have fleas. Some of them.

I don’t own them as my people.

Are they all crazy?

Nazi types?

They hate us for seeking peace, hate all humans--

We want peace; I don’t know what they want.

They hate everything human, hate the human half of themselves.

I have known a few, and they were angry with me, even, because I live with humans.

They’re really more like kings of the spoiled potato salad.

They love darkness, dark magic; it all stinks.

Because we need all the help we can get.

Can we talk about somebody else?

I thought you hated patriarchal authority figures?

They know a lot of secrets.

We are alike in a lot of ways.

They want war, want death, really.

Thanks, your help will no longer be required.

It was like--it was like being told flat-out that we’d failed, that we were no good.

It hurt. It hurt bad.

And you’re left there like you’d just gone through an awful breakup, wondering ‘was it me?’

It’s always tense going.

How weird is that?

If you ever meet one, be polite and respectful, and don’t approach anything looking like their territory unless invited.

Go find that tale-teller, and hear what he has to say.

They have no use for us at all.

They sound pretty evil.

People say they’re evil, too, but they’re not.

It’s not that we slaughtered them, because we didn’t.

There is simply nothing to discuss.

You tread on cracking ice.

Can’t you see just how much we could gain if we actually managed to make peace with them?

Fine. Go ahead. Dream your dreams.

Okay, we get it, vampires.

They’re a wild bunch.

Avoid them if you can.

Not all of them hostile — sometimes they just don’t understand.

We can't always counter them.

These are ghosts, like on Halloween.

I will ask for your help. Thank you.

You handle the rainbow crap, kiddo.

Just know this; defend the fatherless, plead for the widow.

It’s beautiful, peaceful.

Too much work here.

I mean, Paradise, it’s cool, but there are no problems, nothing to do, really.

Sounds nice. I'm too busy as it is.

It is supposed to be a place where there is no hatred, suffering or evil.

It does sound nice, doesn’t it. Like Heaven, I guess.

What was different here?

Yo, dude, give me a leg up, willya?

Will I get dropped? Will I get stepped on?

It’s cool, no one’s gonna let you fall.

No one’s gonna hurt you.

I'm not in control.

No one's in control.

What message hid there, that no one person knew?

Have a good time?

It was really positive, really charged me up.

You gonna stay for more?

Yeah, thanks, asshole.

Were there spirits in that crowd?

I felt it, too.

Wow, freaky.

Why would they do that?

You ever crowdsurf?

It makes you happy, man. It makes you fuckin’ glow.

So what did you learn?

Say, where are we all going after this?

You got the list?

We’re gonna get the great unwashed together and shut these fuckers down.

So who have you heard from?

It isn’t much but we call it home.

I know, I know, it’s been a while.

You know, I always wanted to see Europe, back when I was a dumb kid.

You knew all this already, right?

Well, this may be no surprise to you, but I guess I should have thought things through a little more.

The war’s bad over here.

It’s hard, baby.

It doesn’t make us look good, and we have to work twice as hard to get half the respect.

I’m alive, I’m well, I’m eating regularly.

I think I can make a little progress here whether these hardheads want me to or not.

Humans invent causes. And humans make their own history.

America’s not exactly paradise, but it’s the best anyone could do, really.

We organize marches, sometimes just standing because we can’t get government permission to march.

I don’t blame them but it makes our lives very hard.

This hellish, war-torn home of mine has enough problems that we have managed to unmake one more.

We worked so long and so hard that the absence of the laws is almost worse than their presence; evil as it is, it was all we knew.

Now comes the harder work; restoring a civil society, dignity, true peace.

I have lived all my life and will die here, working for justice.

The baby is kicking. Keeps me awake some nights.

The monsoon season was incredible — towers of clouds and endless rain.

It amazes me that a man as strong as he is can be so tender sometimes.

We’re not here to proselytize, just to show them another way.

We have a long, long way yet to go.

I still don’t know if this is something we should support.

It’s as bad now as it has ever been.

This war has gone on for years and I worry that we aren’t accomplishing anything.

[neverxxnever]

For the writer meta asks: 3, 4, 5, and 19?

Fun Meta Asks For Writers 

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Here’s an excerpt from a short story I am calling “The Crow Corn King”, but could easily be called “Ichabod Bontecou and the Worst Christmas Ever” that I thought about sharing this Christmas.  <cw referenced parental death in passage below>

Ichabod had another name for the boy.  Beatrix had first learned of it at the Gables one Christmas, when Crixus was five years of age and Theodora seven.  Ichabod had been commanded home from his scholarship, his father’s failing health inciting many hushed conversations in adjacent rooms between the old man and his sons, particularly the two eldest and then Ichabod after he had been summoned by them.  He had returned from one of these discussions blanched, and Beatrix later learned that he had been told in that room that his father’s condition was terminal, and that his brothers had decided that their business could not be interrupted to stay with him to death.  Ichabod had recently finished his masters degree.  They had determined for him that the doctorate that would have followed could wait, and he should have the privileged role of watcher for his father, and later mother, as they passed in sequence the following year.

He had come upstairs to the first storey parlour then, where Beatrix was with Crixus and Theo, supervising them from a settee as they played with their new toys.  Paled and drifting vacantly with the dragged steps of a sleepwalker, Ichabod had sat himself down in an armchair adjacent to Beatrix and watched the children play in silence.  Beatrix hadn’t dared ask him what had happened, and she soon noticed that he was not in fact watching the children at all but rather staring straight through them at the patterns of the carpet.  The rest of the family were downstairs in the grand reception, and the jolly piano carols and laughter floating up through the floor could only mean Septimus at the grand below.  Beatrix was glad to hear them.  It meant she knew exactly where he was, and that both his hands were occupied with music rather than some poor young maidservant in the scullery.

The children were not quite so conscious of Ichabod’s plight as she was, however.  Oh, Theo had always been timid and rarely spoke unless commanded to, and Crixus likewise hid most often behind his sister’s skirts, but Beatrix had noticed before that both of them recognised the chronically shy Ichabod as a kindred spirit.  He alone among the brothers would be approached across a drawing room to be shown toys or a book, and though he always declined to read to them, Ichabod would speak to them gently with an adult dignity, patience, and a soft voice, and the children respected him for that.  Eventually Crixus approached him with the prize toy of the merry day, a figurine of a paint horse with real hair mane and tail.  

“Uncle Ichabod.”

When he addressed his uncle, the man jerked upright in his chair as though woken from sleep and appeared genuinely confused about where he was.  He blinked himself back to the parlour and looked down upon Crixus, and then said in his patient little mumble: “Oh… Cricket.  What’s that you have there…?”

And she watched as they spoke together, kindred shy souls, about horses and all the fine things about them while Theodora sat before the fire and listened, alike them too.  

From that evening on, Beatrix struggled to look at her son without seeing his uncle in his visage.  She knew it was just the family resemblance, but looking again and again at her children she simply could not see their real father in them.  None of his sharp features in them, none of his evil.  Reincarnated in his children, Septimus’ legacy of hate and violence was smoothed down into their sweetness and kindness.  In Ichabod, too; not a soldier like his father, but rather a scholar, a dreamer, possessed of a round moon face and pink lips, and on his tongue the vicious name his brother had given their child was dissolved into a musical little bug, a tiny violin singing its song through the night.

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like:

All right well.  This paragraph presenting Septimus’ thesis statement on revenance from my revenant story:

“Drink it.  It is your right,” said Septimus, patiently grinding his heel into his brother’s neck, “You feel it, don’t you?  You must drink.  I only want to share with you what I have been given – what we both have been given. A throne above men.  As a pastor is to his flock as a shepherd is to sheep, so too have we been raised to be wolves.  And what a wonderful life after death I have seen, better than sleeping in ashes and smut and soil until the crack of doom – you should see it.  I want you to.  Drink.”

I don’t often get the chance to use ‘smut’ in the sense of the fungus, and I like how succinct this becomes, tying it into their family church’s doomsday prophecies. This scene takes place in the chapel, so.

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

sfdsgsfdsfds how very dare

Frankly they’re all ‘parts’ of me, even the bad ones (I can lampshade that what Septimus says is pretentious, but I still wrote it).  But I suppose if I had to, I’d say #1 is Sugar, the future Australian outlaw, who is very very similar to me, #2 is Graeme, who isn’t on the surface but has a very familiar pain, #3 is Ichabod, but in a more from the outside looking in manner, and #4 is Jesse, a character from my novel.

19. Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)

Oh look there’s always things aren’t there.

I’m a criminal for people staring (there are 30 results in 70 pages for that revenant story).  I do indulge in references excessively, and many will have to be pulled as one’s on thin ice with music references specifically.  I seem to have a thing for histrionic bitchy characters matched with superficially calm but secretly emotional characters.

Thank you for your questions!

[anxiouslyfred]

Avoiding the Gathering

For @dukexietyweek‘s prompt ‘games’ I decided Virgil and Remus are cousins now,

Summary: Virgil is trying to avoid a family gathering by staying in his room. He gets interrupted by he only other teenage cousin he has.

Warnings: none that I can think of, please let me know if I should include something

“You know everyone else is playing hide and seek?” Virgil had been in his room since his relatives started to arrive. He didn’t want to have a family get together and had hoped that he’d be allowed to hide through it all.

“You mean the kids have been told to entertain themselves while the adults complain about how difficult it is to entertain children for long drives?” He corrected, barely glancing away from the screen. He didn’t want to lose the level again and Remus’s voice was distinctive enough he didn’t need confirmation that it was his eldest cousin who’d come up.

He had to turn when the controller was taken from his hands, growling but not trying to grapple it back since the level hadn’t been lost in the action. “Actually just meant to warn you a few of those kids are either going to try hiding in here or think someone is hiding in here and try to search it.”

“You sure that isn’t what you’re doing? Saying you’ll play, convince the adults you’ll be supervision for them all then ask if I’m able to lock or otherwise barricade my room against any mini invaders?” They had both done that before if the gathering was at either of their homes, but over the last year Remus had actually been doing things to try and cause more chaos than simply leaving the 10 year olds and younger cousins unsupervised.

As the only 2 teenage cousins Virgil and Remus were apparently old enough to play adult supervision but not old enough to be allowed a later bedtime or get their choice of activities for a day out. Instead they took every chance they could to lock themselves away or escape the areas the family was to find their own enjoyment. Hopefully this way they’d at least get some more independance rather than constantly being told that because they’re older they should be willing to let the youngers ones choose what they play.

“Roman came with his powder paints and 5 super blasters. I suggested hide and seek where you’re only found if you’re blasted with paint. Unless you want this room redecorated in orange and red you might want to lock your door.” Remus stated happily.

Mentally Virgil had to remind himself that yelling and cursing Remus out would only get them found sooner and both of them into trouble. Instead he hissed the curses, deliberately loud enough to be heard. With Roman and Logan among the other cousins gathered today that meant he’d need more than just the lock on his door and to be quiet about moving it so the chest of drawers would have to do.

Dumping a drawer on the mattress hard enough to make Remus bounce and wonder what on earth was happening was just a bit of vindictive revenge.

“Dude if you needed help moving the furniture you should have just asked me to pause the game!” The protest was amusing given both of them knew that wouldn’t have happened, only highlighted by the fact it took 4 drawers being dumped and 5 minutes more for the protect to come.

“Well now you’ve passed the level you can save it and help me put the drawers away again.” Virgil snarked, breathing heavily after carrying the frame of the chest of drawers across the room.

“You’re giving me permission to look through your underwear drawer? Oooh, what kinks am I going to find in here?”

“None given that’s where Uncle Jay told me to hide it. Either he’s conspiring with my dads so they know where to look for things I want to hide or he wants to try and find my secrets out if he’s here when I’m not.” Virgil deadpanned, rolling his eyes at the curiousity.

The bouncing and rapid glances around every corner of the room was enough to remind him that was a stupid thing to say to Remus. “Okay then, where else would a spider hide his secrets? Carved out corners of the room, atop the wardrobe? as deeply under the bed as he can reach? Sewn into the cushions? the locked drawers of his desk? behind the computer game collection?”

“Why would I tell you where to find my secrets?” Virgil had to ask, scrunching his face up to show just how crazy an idea that sounded like.

“Cause getting one over on my uncles is fun and this is my new favvourite game. You keep playing your game and I’ll do this now. My own version of hide and seek.” Remus insisted, already attempting to crawl under the bed that wouldn’t fit an arm underneath it.

“If you get eaten by my bed then I’m abandoning you and out the window in an instant.” Virgil promised.

Even if there was now chaos happening around him it was company that he’d grown up used to. No secrets would go further than them given just how much trouble it could land them both in.