#man i fucking struggled to try to articulate this

[waywardsalt]

ive spent like 20 minutes trying to world this eloquently but i give up; im a big fan of linebeck just. not being capable of watching over kids not the person to be the guardian of a group of young people he struggles to take care of himself at times and has so much shit going on that it takes about one conversation with oshus for the old man to realize that this guy is. not doing great

[renthony]

In which I'm angry about intersexism from trans people. Again.

"AFABs don't experience [thing experienced by intersex people of all assigned genders]!" is getting really fucking old. People re-inventing the sex and gender binary through their weird fucking fixation on "are you AMAB or AFAB? Are you TMA or TME?" is exhausting.

I'm tired of existing in trans spaces as a trans person, only to realize how actively hostile those spaces are to intersex people. I don't bother to go to the local trans support group, because my experiences there when I first tried to attend were fucking rancid. Trans people of all assigned sexes and all genders act like I don't belong there, and I hit my limit on that shit real fast. It's exhausting, it's alienating, and it's fucking miserable!

Trans people, you have got to fucking stop acting like intersex people don't exist. You have got to fucking stop acting like you own the concept of sex and gender based violence. You have got to fucking stop acting like transfem and transmasc are a set, incorruptible binary. You have got to fucking stop acting like your fucking bullshit in-fighting isn't affecting people who aren't you.

I'm tired of intersex people discussing our own experiences only to get shit all over by perisex trans people who want to put everyone in a binary.

I'm tired of watching intersex people get treated like shit by terfs and transphobes, only for perisex trans people to accuse us of "appropriating trans struggle" when we talk about it.

I'm tired of talking about my experiences as an intersex trans person only to get constantly hit with endless variations on "shut up, theyfab" or "um, you're TME."

I'm tired of talking to my transfem friends and partners, us relating to each other on our similar experience, and then having random other trans people on the internet decide that, actually, I'm a raging transmisogynist who doesn't value trans women and is trying to "appropriate" their struggle. Never mind how many of my own experiences I've been able to articulate thanks to the support of trans women in my life.

Perisex trans people, do better. Y'all fucking suck! Y'all fucking treat intersex people like total shit! Fuck you for using us as rhetorical devices against transphobes and then ignoring our actual needs and struggles!

I go outside and people call me a tranny with a freak ugly beard. I get targeted by all the same bathroom bills and public policy trying to force trans people out of the public. I get people asking me if I have a dick. I get people aggressively calling me "sir" in public. I started getting called a "he-she" when I was a child. When I started developing breasts, a family member told me they weren't "real titties, just extra fat." I have had total strangers tell me I "look like a fat man" when I got upset at being misgendered. I get "helpful advice" from strangers about how to shave "properly," even though I didn't fucking ask, nor do I intend to shave my beard. I've had people tell me I have "tranny feet" and tell me to "try the drag queen shoe store" when I talk about how hard it is to find women's shoes that fit me. I have been the subject of nasty rumors about what's between my legs and why I "try to look like a woman." I'm not a woman, mind you, but I still get treated as a "wrong woman" by society.

But when I talk about all these things? When I seek support? Trans people of all genders call me a TME theyfab who is appropriating transfem struggles.

I still don't understand how I'm the one "appropriating" when it's the outside world calling me a tranny he-she freak.

But whatever. I guess I just have to accept that intersex people are subhuman to perisex people, even the trans ones. 🤷‍♂️

[rowenablade]

Okay. I’m going to wait to do a second watch before I articulate most of my other feelings here, but I want to address one thing.

I’m seeing a lot of posts like, “I related to Izzy because I am also queer and older/disabled/depressed. By killing him off, the writers are saying that I deserve to die.”

Guys.

I’m not saying your feelings aren’t valid. I totally understand grieving a character that you relate to. But speaking as a writer, I just want to point out that trying to write with the shadow of “what is the absolute worst and most harmful way a reader can interpret this” will smother your ability to create. Twisting yourself in knots, trying to think up the worst-faith takes possible and scotch-guarding all your writing decisions against them is exhausting to the point of making you just not want to write anymore.

And we’ve seen the writers deliberately choose not to do this in Season 1. Remember all those terrible “Izzy is racist” takes that the writers and cast seemed completely blindsided by? That happened because the writers and directors and actors weren’t going over every scene with a fine tooth comb, ferreting out every shot or line of dialogue or micro expression that could possibly be interpreted as racist, and scrubbing it off. Because there comes a point where your story is what it needs to be, and you have to accept that some people will interpret it in ways you didn’t intend them to. And if you can’t accept that, you’ll never find the courage to put your work out there.

The point of diverse casts and writing teams isn’t to achieve a state of, “Nothing bad ever happens to a character from a marginalized demographic ever again.” It’s to achieve a status quo of these types of characters just being people in the world of the story. Not symbols, not representation boxes to tick, not tokens that you can point to so that you can say, “Here, we acknowledged this type of person exists, now where’s our woke points?”

OFMD is full of characters of color, queer characters, older characters, characters of differing body types. And in stories, things happen to characters. Some fall in love. Some make the same mistakes over and over. Some turn into birds. Some die.

Izzy’s character represents a lot of things, but he does not represent every older, disabled fan or fan who has struggled with suicide, any more than Jim represents all genderqueer fans, or Olu represents all black fans. That’s not how the writers were handling him. They were handling him like a character, because that’s what you have to do.

Again, I understand being sad. I am so, so fucking sad. But this idea of, “Any time something bad happens to a character I relate to means that the writer thinks I deserve these bad things to happen to me,” will poison everything you engage with eventually. Because stories are full of things happening to characters, and they won’t all be good things. And the more representation we get, the more often bad things will happen to characters we relate to.

But good things will happen too.

Queer couples get married. Disabled women run off with their favorite husbands. Middle-aged characters change careers. A multiracial polycule finds a home at sea. A fat man covered in tattoos stars in a drag show and all his friends cheer. All these things happened in the same show as Izzy’s death. This is what this world is.

Anyway. I know emotions are running high and I’ll probably get blocked or unfollowed by a few people for this. But I’m just trying to find my peace where I can, and if anyone else finds this useful, cheers.

[sanspuppet]

MDNI - smut

professor!Mingi x afab!reader

W/T: University AU, unprotected sex, breeding, public sex, quick dick sucking, reader’s first time, pet names (pretty, lovely, darling)

A/O: @ahimhere here’s your request for the prompt “Shush, we can’t have anyone hearing this”, i figured some professor Mingi, hope you can enjoy hehe <3

When the bell rang, and all the people that frequented your course left the classroom, the professor called your name once you walked next to his desk.

“Y/n, Miss. Can you please come over to my office? We need to talk about something.” Your body blocked, hearing his low voice demanding you. You couldn’t deny that he’s the finest, the most handsome man that you’ve ever seen, and the classes you had with him were always hard to focus on, as you were completely infatuated by his hot look. You shook your head to turn again to reality, pressing hard your books against your breast due to nervousness: why would he want to talk with you?

“Oh… Yes, surely Sir” you headed to his personal office, after walking over the class door. Your gaze was locked down your shoes, your cheeks felt burning at the thought of being alone with him.

You turned around to see him walking behind you, he reached the door and opened it with one of the keys he hold in his pocket pants. The man nodded to you as he sat on his chair. You walked over him and sat shyly on one of the two other chairs in front of the huge desk.

“So…” he opened a drawer, where he placed his books before closing it back. “You’re seriously a model student” his eyes were locked on yours, he had his fingers crossed when he continued: “You still have great grades, even though you seem very distracted during my lessons”

“Oh, uhm…” you blinked while staring at the floor, your mind was elaborating a good excuse, but the man beat you on time: “I’ve started to think that the reason you can’t focus properly is because of me, do i bother you?” You were confused as you saw a slight smirk diving onto his face, waiting silently for you to reply him.

“Yes- i mean… kind, of. I’m sorry.”

The man nodded, shaking slowly his hand to you. “You don’t have to be, i only need you to explain why you’re being distracted by me, so maybe we can work on this together.”

You played with your hands nervously, chuckling shyly and shaking your head before articulating the dumbest thing you could have said: “Oh no, no i shouldn’t.”

He raised an eyebrow, standing up to get closer to you. He held on his knee with a hand as the other lifted your chin. “Why shouldn’t you? Miss, i have already figured out why. But i want you to say it, so i can be sure of that”

Your heartbeat accelerated at the idea of him knowing that you use to fantasize about him during his classes, mixed with the sight of his face close to yours enough to feel his warm breath.

“I dream of… you, during lessons” you weren’t actually going to say what you daydreamed of him, right? It’d be so shameful, for your imagine of perfect student, but you couldn’t do anything about being a fucking pervert when it came to that professor.

“About? Keep going.” His hand never left your chin as he kept trying to make eye contact with you, despite your eyes were forcefully locked on the floor.

“H-having…” you gulped before continuing. “sex, here.”

He pulled back, murmuring a long: “Ooh~” with his arms crossed. “Just as i thought” He supported himself with the desk top. “I still don’t blame you, every student has his specific distraction… what i am asking to myself and obviously you, is… What should we do about it?”

Your mouth hung open waiting for your mind to elaborate anything, but the only thing that left your mouth was a simple: “i don’t know Sir…”

He scratched his chin, widened his eyes once he chose the best option: “Tell me y/n, if i fuck you and consequently fulfill your needs, will you focus better during my classes?” He got closer to you again.

The air inside the room felt heavy, you were struggling to breathe, and you could feel drops of sweat resting on your forehead as soon you realized how hot it was there. You were fatigued by some unknown reason before, but now the heat between you and your professor seemed uncontrollable to you, so couldn’t do anything but nod.

“Yeah, i think.” you murmured, finally looking at him. The man was loosening the knot of the tie to breathe better, you watched him unbuttoning his shirt, every movement of his got you wetter as reaction. You stood up and bent over his desk, your skirt was already on the floor when you dragged down your panties, a string of arousal connecting them to your pussy.

He groaned once he turned to see you prepared to take him. His hands were caressing your hips, his eyes inspecting every detail of your bare skin, even though you were one of his students, he couldn’t deny that you’re a hot yet pretty girl.

“I know i shouldn’t make preferences, but you’re my favorite student y/n, such a beautiful and smart girl.” You shyly chuckled, but the slight laughter quickly turned into a needy moan as soon as you felt his fingers slicking against your sticky cunt. “Shush, we can’t have anyone hearing this” You obeyed him, biting your lower lip to muffle any sound that could have escaped your mouth.

“Unfortunately i don’t have any condoms here with me, i will have to breed you, if it isn’t a problem.” You nodded, turning your head to try to look at him while he unzipped his pants. “You can”

In less than a minute he was already buried inside you, pumping as fast as he could without making any sound of skin slamming against skin. His hands were gripping your waist to hold better, your suffocated moans made him even hornier. “Fuck it’s so tight, is this your first time lovely?” his pace slowed down to help you reply easier.

“Y-yes” you layed on your elbows, your face was pressing against the wood of the desk.

“Oh so bad, your boyfriend should have been your first.” He was already tired of the sleepy pace, so he started to hammer again roughly into your pussy. You breathed deeply before talking back:

“It’s o-okey—fuck, i- i’m in love with you” you were so embarrassed to say it, even though it was the truth.

“We’ll se what we can do about it, but for now, let’s focus on orgasming, got it pretty?”

In effect, you found yourself really close to your high, but you still wanted to fuck with him more. The nasty and squelching sound was too loud that there was no fucking way it couldn’t have been heard from ourside, but even if people were probably thinking the professor was having a quicky with the sexy English teacher, he was actually fucking “the sexy student” as how he used to call you for himself. You could notice that the thrust became sloppier at some point, warning you that he was close to climax soon.

“God, i’d like to fuck you all day long but we have other classes in five minutes” He slammed his big cock inside your throbbing cunt enough to make your clit red from how he was balls deep in you. The heat turned into pure desperation of cumming as you two kept fucking.

“Sir… i’m close” you whined with your face squeezed into your arm to muffle the occasional loud noises.

“Gonna spurt my cum into you very soon lovely, get ready” he couldn’t hold back his groans, too.

You came the same second you felt a hot liquid releasing into your pussy, mixing it with your own. The man behind you groped your ass, spreading your ass cheeks to admire the mess leaking slowly out of you.

“Does it bother you if you keep it inside until you get home, darling?” he asked you, dragging your panties up to put them in place again. “it’s fine”

Once you were fully clothed, you turned around to look at him. Quite to your surprise he pointed at his still leaked crotch.

“Could you please clean it up, quickly?”

You immediately kneeled, licking down on all his length until all the cum on it was in your stomach. You took him out of your mouth with a pop, he didn’t wait any longer before putting back on his pants along with the boxers.

“I had a great time y/n. About what you said to me, maybe we can give us a chance, don’t you think? Let me give you my number, when you’re completely sure about that, we can hang out together.” he smiled at you, after asking for you phone where he could type his phone number.

After a minute, when the bell rang again, he opened the door holding it for you to leave his office first.

“Thank you, Sir” you cooed, a genuine smile popping out your face.

“You can call me Mingi, now go, maths is waiting for you” he chuckled back.

[beta-therapy]

Female Political Views

A typical woman today identifies herself as liberal/feminist/progressive or some label along those lines. Try to remember the last time we had an election, and you didn’t see every female you follow on Instagram post about it the next day, where she would denounce hate, bigotry, etc. and praise the virtues of inclusivity, tolerance, love, and acceptance. What can we learn about female nature from these posts?

The common thread to these primarily female-led political movements is the placement of tolerance and inclusivity as the highest virtue. This makes sense at first glance because women are such gentle, loving creatures so of course they embrace tolerance and inclusivity as the most important values! It’s in their biology to be more people-oriented and agreeable than men. That’s why you always see a woman making sure not to offend anyone. She wants to be on everyone’s good side. She rejects a man as gently as possible. She says sorry and doesn’t want anyone to be mad at her. She gossips, but only to make sure she has the approval of the group and has the fewest enemies possible.

But what happens when her male friend, who she likes to rant to, but is beta, less sexually-experienced than her, and not attractive to her, wants to be more than friends? After all, he doesn’t get as much sex as the alpha males who she hooks up with, so it would be nice of her to make him feel included and allow him to be intimate with her.

But that is a hard boundary. The boundary of her country should be open to immigration, as she passionately articulates, because every human is equal, and borders are racist, so we should be tolerant and accept everybody. But the boundary of touching her body? Or flirting? No, not all humans are equal anymore. That boundary is only accessible to certain men. What is she supposed to do instead? Allow everyone to fuck her?

She will tell you the truth as gently as possible. She won’t tell you sex is only for alphas. She will say “I just really enjoy being your friend!” “I hope there’s no hard feelings,” or better yet she will just avoid the question coming up at all.

Don’t forget that women are hardwired to understand emotions and assess social situations far more sharply than men. She already knows you like her; she already knows you’re a lower status male; she already knows you struggle getting women to be intimate with you; and she’s making sure to avoid a situation where you think it’s okay to profess your love to her.

She really doesn’t want to hurt your feelings or make you mad at her. But at some point, you will have to understand the truth: that being nice and preaching inclusivity are good rules for how to act in general, but when it comes to the question of which men should a woman allow into her body, a harsh selection has to take place, and if you don’t get selected, it’s better to take the news with some dignity instead of being bitter about it.

[mara-xx217]

"I'll take care of it this time..." (A Mouthwashing Fic)

Anya was a failure in every regard, she knew this. A failure of a nurse, of a crewmember, as a woman...

But this is her decision and hers alone to make, and no one, not even *he*, can take that away from her or change the outcome of her fate.

"I'm sorry, captain... It's my fault and I'll take care of it this time."

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Past Sexual Assault, Hurt/No Comfort, Suicide, Graphic Description, Non-Romantic "Kiss", Drug Use/Overdose, Canonical Character Death

BANG! 

BANG!

BANG!  

“OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR, ANYA!” 

She covered her ears, ducking her head in between her shoulders as she paced back and forth between the space between her desk and the countertops and cabinets that lined one of Medical’s walls. Every hit the thick, metal door received reverberated through her teeth, causing them to chatter uncontrollably as her vision blurred around the edges. 

‘Take care of it.’

She has to take care of it this time.

There’s no waiting for someone else to make it better for her. 

Not this time…  

Never again… 

She has to be the one to 

[TAKE

RESPONSIBILITY]

 Anya could hear Daisuke and him talking outside, the younger man’s voice trembling in genuine concern and fear while his was raised, angry… on edge. Spiraling out of control into outright dangerous desperation. Her eyes keep drifting between the drawer underneath Curly’s cot, then to her desk, covered in mountains of discarded paperwork, filthy, purulent bandages and mostly empty bottles of painkillers. Anya tripped over her own feet, heart throbbing behind her dry eyes as she heard two pairs of footsteps rush away from Medical’s locked door. 

God, why didn’t she just stay in here… 

Forever-

“....h-hhhh-”  

She could barely hear Curly’s pained wheezes over the sound of her own laboured breathing. R-Right… Right. He needs her… The captain still needs her… Anya dragged her feet as she shuffled over towards her desk, picking up one of the bottles with a violently trembling hand. 

Oxycodone

10 mg

[THERE ISN’T 

NEARLY ENOUGH…]  

The little pills clattered in the mostly empty container as it shook in her hand. Anya clumsily reached for another bottle, knocking over the rest of them in the process. 

Empty…  

“...haaa…”

One or two…

“-n-n-”

Empty…  

“...a-ahhh… n-naaah…”  

Nothing outside of this room existed. The rest of the Tulpar, Daisuke, Swansea, him, all of space, Earth, the goddamn Pony Express… Nothing existed except her, the captain, and the pills that she struggled to consolidate into a single bottle. Anya cursed under a heavy breath as several oxycodone tablets went scattering across the floor. She instantly dropped to her knees and began to scour for them carefully, struggling not to hyperventilate as tears simply refused to fill her aching eyes.

“-o-okay… I-I-It’s going t-t-to be okay, C-C-Curly…” Her tongue was too heavy, too sticky to articulate the words correctly. In spite of how fucking upset she was, Anya has never felt so clear headed or alive before. She felt it in every little action that she took, in how her entire body shook from stress, how her stomach cramped from hunger pains, how her throat clenched from dehydration… Anya wondered if Curly felt the same, or if he could feel anything at all, anymore. 

No, he did. She knew he did. He was staring at her, unblinking, wheezing and sighing her name over and over again, trying, and failing, to reach out to her with his shrunken, handless limbs like he could possibly stop the chain of events that had already been unfolding months, no, years, before the crash. 

Anya’s fingers lacked the dexterity needed to pick the pills up off the textured metal panels, but she forced herself to steady her hands. She sucked in a deep breath, holding it as she dropped her nose to the floor as she focused on an oxycodone tablet. Her fingernails had grown to be unruly, just as everyone’s on board had, and she accidentally crushed one of the pills in between her nail and finger, leaving a dry, white powder underneath her nail bed. 

Such a waste… Anya brought her fingers to her mouth without thinking, sucking them clean in spite of the foul taste that flooded her mouth. It caused her to salivate involuntarily, coating her mouth in a blissful amount of sticky saliva. 

“H-Ha… Got it… I got it all… I’ll make the most of what we have and use the bare minimum, I promise…” Anya gripped onto bloody, crusty bedsheets, digging her fingers into the shitty, plastic mattress as she pulled herself up off the floor. Curly’s bloodshot eye stared back at her, his teeth chattering as he hissed air in her direction. 

“-a-aahhh… n-nnahh… A-Ahhh… n-naaahhh…” Seeing him so closely made her stomach churn. Anya can’t even remember the last time she ate, or what the last thing she even ate was, but bile burned the back of her throat as she began to feel a hot, drowsy tingle prickle through the hairs on her arms. 

“S-Shhh… Shh, Curly… Don’t worry, I’m giving you your medicine this time. I’m going to be a better nurse for you, even if it’s too late…” Anya got up and stumbled over to one of the counters, grabbing a bottle of water that was only a quarter full.

A quarter full…  

“Do you… Do you really believe that our worst moments don’t make us who we are, captain?” The taste in her mouth was foul, but she didn’t dare wash it out with the little water that remained. Curly needed it more than she did. He’s hardly eaten or drank anything in the months after the crash. Anya can’t really blame him, and wonders if he would rather she smother him with his pillow before things go any further. 

No, she can’t make that decision for him. She can’t…

She won’t-

“I don’t think… this is my worst moment. It’s not. I know it isn’t.” It’s the same conversation she had with him, only it felt far less one sided with Curly, even though he couldn’t even reply back. She looked up at him with a tired expression, shaking the pills around in her unsteady hand absentmindedly as she sat on the edge of his bed. Curly wheezed again, noticeably stiffening but Anya didn't move. 

He doesn’t want her to, anyway…  

“...I wish… I wish I didn’t tell you… it. Maybe-” Curly began to squirm. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t reach out to her or say anything at all, but Anya already knew everything he wanted to say to her.

‘No, don’t say that…’

‘The blame isn’t yours to bear.’

‘It’s mine, as a captain, crewmate and friend.’

‘I’m sorry, Anya…’  

“Maybe, this wouldn’t have happened if I had j-just-” Her voice abruptly died in her throat. The little oxycodone power she had ingested moments earlier was already affecting her, making her feel… tired. So very tired… But it didn’t cloud her judgement. Anya felt as though she was of sound mind, hyper aware of her situation in ways that she had forced herself to ignore for too long. The trembling in her hands and her chest didn’t stop, nor did the aching of her eyes, but she found herself able to smile down at her captain, at her friend as thick, gooey tears welled in his unprotected eye. 

She sighed heavily as she placed the bottle of water in between her knees. Anya opened the pill container with her thumb and dumped three oxycodone tablets into her dirty palm. She stared at a particular floor panel as she popped them into her mouth, ignoring how Curly writhed and gasped behind her. 

Anya quickly chewed up the pills and swallowed them, ignoring how her stomach immediately tried to reject the strange, overly sanitized and chemical taste. For a few seconds, she waited, forcing herself to swallow any bile that rose into the back of her throat and using it to wash the rest of the powdery substance down. Anya jerkily poured out more- two more- pills and quickly threw them into her mouth and ground them down to a sharp, lumpy powder as well. 

Already, she was woozy, struggling to focus as she forced another tablet into her mouth. She chewed, or really just gritted her teeth, hardly finding the strength to swallow it at all and merely letting it sit in her mouth. It didn’t matter, it would probably enter her bloodstream through her mucosal lining… Was that right…? She only ever had the privilege of pouring over medical books and reading and rereading prescription do’s and don’ts, so it’s likely she’s just wasting the precious little supplies the others had left. Anya was leaning heavily on her elbows, her thighs falling asleep from the weight of her body against just a small surface area. 

“C-Cuh-urly… C-Cap’n…” Anya slurs and she flings her body around. She tried to look at him, but the ship was spinning on its axis and Curly's skinless face was warping and twisting into a forced grimace. 

“‘m s-sooorrryyy…  C-Cap… I-Issss my fault ‘n I- I’ll taaaake -of it -t-time…” Anya clumsily shifts her weight onto her knees, kneeling on the crappy medical padding and causing the bed to dip under the change. 

“-n’t f-for- forge-et… M-Medi-” Her breath was catching in her chest. Anya had to put in conscious effort into breathing, made difficult thanks to her reeling head and eyes that refused to remain open for more than a fraction of a second. Anya balanced herself with her palm flat against the bed, body hovering over Curly’s blood, raw, bandaged one and steadied herself for one final task as the Tulpar’s acting nurse. 

One final pill was slipped into her mouth, the mostly empty pill bottle shoved inside of her jumpsuit pocket with a blind hand. Anya fumbled with the water bottle and poured the entirety of its contents into her mouth, careful not to swallow anything other than a few precious drops. The pill swam in her mouth as she leaned over Curly’s squirming face with pursed lips and unfocused eyes. 

He struggled to take in the water. It hurts! It’s painful to the touch, it’s impossible to swallow without choking on the burns in his mouth and gullet, but thanks to a subtle tilt of his head, the water flushes the oxycodone pill down his throat even if he chokes on it and the water. It’s painful but it's also relieving. Needed. He was in agony and dehydrated and Anya kept her promise that she would take care of him properly this time.

For the last time…  

Artificial gravity pulls her body down off the bed and onto the floor. Involuntary tremors wracked Anya’s body as she tried to take the pill bottle out of her pocket. Did… Did she take enough…? Anya didn’t want it to be slow. She couldn’t open it again, and her arms fell limply to her sides as she leaned her head against the cool metal of Curly’s cot. 

“-a-ahhh… n-naahh…”

“-a-ahh… n-n-naaahh…”

Seconds seem to drag on for an eternity when you are unable to blink. Curly couldn’t turn to face her, he could only make out her dark blob of hair out of the corner of his badly damaged eye as she shook and shuddered. He heard her vomit, coughing and choking on it as her tremors turned into a violent seizure. Did she know he was still here? Did she know that nothing else existed to him other than her? The life was leeching from her fast, and the disturbing gurgling that originated from deep within her throat soon died down into an uneasy silence. 

“...”  

Nothing broke the deafening quiet in Medical, not even a scream of pain and the crashing and grinding of metal against metal broke the stillness in the stagnant air. Curly couldn’t look away as the young intern bled all over the floor, shaking a motionless Anya and crying out her name before ultimately collapsing after he unlocked the door from the inside. On the other side, Jimmy stood, looking surprised at the culmination of actions years, no, decades, in the making. 

“F-Fuck-” Jimmy covered his mouth before his hand trailed to the back of his head.

“FUCK-!”

BANG!

BANG!  

“-it… I was going to fucking fix it… Why- Fuck- I was going to-

[TAKE

RESPONSIBILITY]

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @cherrysodalite, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine, @memoryofheather @horny-3

[hyunjilicious]

in human form [bang chan × f!reader]

A/n: this is very, very self indulgent. I always try to make my fics reader inclusive, but since I poured my soul out in this, it's not 100% a self insert. It's not OC either, but some aspects of Y/n past are mentioned - mental health and relationship with her parents. I hope you'll still enjoy it! 🥺

Summary: fresh out of a toxic relationship, you realise your best friend Chan might not be just that, your best friend. Angst (and fluffy and extremely cheesy) best friends to lovers trope. 8.5k (hit me)

Warnings: y/n's ex was toxic, so was her father, mentions of alcoholism (as the source of some of the issues), anxiety, insecurities, past traumatic experiences (not detailed). It's not as sad as I may have made it sound, Chan's a sweetheart and there for you from beginning to end ❤️

For the first time that night, when you felt a hand against your back, you relaxed. "Do you want me to drive you home?" Chan asked, leaning into your side so you could hear him over the loud music at the club.

Aside from the hand that still rested between your shoulder blades, he kept his distance. 

"No, it's fine, thanks" you shook your head but then smiled in appreciation. "I'll take a cab, you don't have to leave"

"Do you want to talk to me?" 

Another offer he didn't have to make - another one you desperately wanted to accept but felt like an asshole doing so.

"I'm annoyed. I don't want to start this right now. We can talk another time"

"I'm here for you" he reminded you, "Please, just let me take you home."

"You don't feel like dancing anymore?"

Chan shook his head. He never felt like dancing in the first place, only came so that he could spend some time with you, but unfortunately the night didn't go as planned. 

"I don't want to ruin your night"

"You're not ruining my night, Y/n" Chan said sternly, "I want to go home too"

"Then why didn't you leave earlier?"

That, he couldn't answer. He knew why, but he couldn't really tell you that the pain you've been struggling to hide has been obvious to him from the very beginning. Instead, he hid his worry behind little acts of kindness, reassuring words and unconditional support, without expecting anything in return. Much like he did now.

"Felt like a party pooper, but you're my ticket out of here. So? Should we go?"

You were unsatisfied with his answer, felt guilty for the way things were going, but you weren't about to make him ask again. "Ok, let's go"

His face lit up hearing your words, it felt like a win which he hoped would be the end of the story, considering that the last time he thought this nightmare was over, this night happened. So, determined to not allow the universe to mess with you again, Chan took a step to the side and motioned for you to lead the way towards the exit. 

And you would've done just that had an overwhelming sense of pain and warmth not washed over you, and instead of moving, you just went in for a hug. Despite being taken aback, Chan wrapped his arms around you instantly, repeatedly kissing the top of your head during the few seconds you spent pressed against one another. 

"Thanks" you mumbled, wiping away a stray tear that fell down your cheek as you pulled away. 

"You don't need to thank-" he began saying but before he could finish the sentence, you felt another hand against your back, one that sent chills down your spine. 

As if burned by the touch, you jumped away and didn't even bother looking at the person before you grabbed Chan's hand and tried to pull him away. 

"Hey, where the fuck do you think you're going?" the menacing tone of your exboyfriend called over the loud music. Even though he wasn't drunk enough to have trouble articulating his sentences, you could still hear the alcohol induced hostility in his tone. 

And as if raising his voice at you wasn't enough, in the blink of an eye he also went to grab you, but even though you were fast enough to step out of his reach, so was Chan as he grabbed the man's wrist and pushed himself between the two of you. 

"Hey, hey, hey! Step back" Chan commanded, not one single hint of uncertainty in his tone. 

"Why?" your ex boyfriend sneered, "Need her?"

Even though a vein was about to burst on his forehead, Chan fought to keep his composure. "Let's not make a scene, ok? Y/n's going home and you're going back to the party. Let's just leave it at that"

"How about this?" he slapped his hands together, "How about you stop sticking your nose in my business and let me have a talk with her?"

"We really don't have anything to talk about, ok?" you tried, but he wasn't having it. 

"Just because we broke up doesn't mean you can go whore around. At least wait a while before you hop on someone else's dick. Or wait! You've done it before, haven't you?" he turned to Chan. "You already fucked her, didn't you? You're the reason she broke up with me?"

"Man, you have no idea what you're saying" Chan rolled his eyes, "But why don't we have this talk another time, huh? This is really not the time and place"

"I agree. So why don't you just step away so I can talk to Y/n?"

"Talk to her?" Chan laughed, "Mate, don't even look at her"

That angered him - you saw it in his eyes and it terrified you. That look of his whenever he had enough to drink so that common sense didn't have a place in his behavior anymore, when limits stopped meaning anything and only his words mattered. 

Under different circumstances, you'd have said this wasn't something you'd ever do, but you felt afraid - viscerally, down to your bones scared, and without thinking, you jumped behind Chan. And while on high alert as he was, even though he might have not seen you, he felt you, the way your hands gripped his shirt and it brought a storm inside his mind. He didn't know what he wanted to do first, break that man's teeth or comfort you, but his adrenaline had kicked in and all that he could focus on was keeping his calm.

"Listen, I've got nothing against you, man. It's her that I need-" and his sentence was cut short by a very calm Seungmin, who with his drink in his hand and the straw between his lips, stepped in between your ex boyfriend and Chan.

"The group's over there" Seungmin addressed the man - fully facing him, and pointed in the direction you just came from, "Why are you all the way over here?"

"Yeah" Felix, who you hadn't noticed until now, nodded along, "We were thinking about going to a different club but we couldn't find you"

They stepped closer to one another, forming a wall between you, Chan and your ex, and bombarded him with questions, pointing in all directions and speaking loudly one over the other. 

There had been maybe one or two attempts from your ex to push past them, but before he managed to escape their pestering, Chan had already grabbed your hand and ushered you towards the exit. 

"Hey, are you ok? What are you doing?" he desperately asked as soon as you stepped on the sidewalk. Seeing you with your nose buried into your phone was the last thing he expected.

"I'm texting Felix and Seungmin" you sniffled, "I hope he didn't start a fight"

"They got this, Y/n, it's ok" Chan said and then tried to get you to move. "Let's go to the car, ok?"

After wiping one more tear from your cheek and pressing the send button on the text you just wrote, you nodded and followed him, "Yeah, ok"

Despite the hurricane of thoughts inside your mind, for most of the drive, you were silent - wanting to say so many things but at the same time, fearing what it would feel like if you yourself were to hear those things being spoken out loud, let alone Chan. 

After your phone buzzed with a new notification, you turned to him, "They got him an uber. He's on his way home"

"Good" Chan nodded and drummed his thumb against the steering wheel. "Fuck him"

"Yeah.. fuck him"

"Are you ok?"

At this hour of the night, the roads were empty enough to allow Chan to steal glances and turn to you, but still you were grateful he was driving - he couldn't fix you with his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine"

"Fine as in fine or fine as in fine?"

You really didn't want to do it, but his question made you giggle. "What? I really am ok, I'm just annoyed"

He looked at you for another second, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what? Complain to you about how big of an asshole he was and about how stupid I am? Where's that gonna get me?"

"First of all, you're not stupid. At all, Y/n. You know that"

"My actions and decisions over the past few months would beg to differ, Chan." you sighed, "It's not his fault he was a piece of shit boyfriend to me, it's my fault I stayed in that relationship for as long as I did"

Too many words, some even a bit aggressive and thoughtless, almost rushed past his lips, but he managed to compose himself with a shake of his head and a deep breath. "I really don't want to be that person, Y/n, but you know traumatic experiences don't necessarily involve heavy and obvious shit. You've never been through something like this before, how were you supposed to know what the right thing to do was? You really did your best with what you had"

"Stop. You're making it sound like I'm some sort of victim or something. There's no trauma. He was never violent, never raised his hand at me or anything, it's not that serious"

"A person doesn't have to be physically violent in order to be abusive"

"He wasn't abusive. Just… toxic. It wasn't that big of a deal"

"If it wasn't that big of a deal, why are you so upset with yourself for being, as you say, stupid about it?"

Ah fuck, a red light. It wasn't like the intersection was that busy anyway, and it got you very close to offering to pay the fine only so that he'd keep driving. But his eyes were already on you, ready to pierce right into your soul the second you met them. 

"What do you want me to say?" you looked down at the bag in your lap. "I don't see where you're going with this"

"I want you to stop being angry at yourself. To stop blaming yourself. To realize you were not the problem. That's all I want"

"If that's really the right way to look at things, it's gonna take me a long fucking while" you chuckled bitterly, tone full of spite and anger. 

But still, Chan's voice was as calm and sweet as ever. "And I'll be here for you until then. And after. Ok?"

You really had no right to be this cold to him. "Look at you being so wise and selfless. Try telling me again that I'm not just a stupid girl who needs looking after"

"Y/n, if the roles were reversed, would you think I was stupid? Would you defend the person that repeatedly hurt me?"

"I'm not defending him"

"That's exactly what you're doing by putting all the blame on your own shoulders. I'm not saying you should crucify him, although I would, all I'm saying is that you shouldn't carry this weight. If he refuses to own up to his shit and try to do better, that's on him, but you shouldn't be the one to take responsibility for this just because he won't do it"

Although the things he was saying made sense from the very beginning, it was getting harder and harder for you to keep up with the conversation. A short period of silence followed where you didn't know what to say, but your ticket out of this tensioned position came at the perfect time.

"Light's green" you said and pointed to the traffic lights after seeing Chan make no effort to start the car.

He blinked for a second, looked in the rear view mirror and then turned to you again, "There's no one behind, it's fine"

"Chan! Drive"

"Y/n, look at me"

There was a very strong reason you avoided his stare during this whole car ride, and it was getting harder and harder to manage your emotions. "I can't"

"Why?" his voice broke a little "It's just me, Y/n, it's ok"

You squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back, "Please, I don't want to start crying right now, just start the car. Just drive"

And he did. He wordlessly followed your request and drove in silence for as long as he could, but when he reached the intersection next to your neighborhood and had to stop at another red light, he couldn't help himself. "Y/n, do you want to be alone right now?"

"I don't want to continue that conversation" 

"It's not what I asked," Chan softly said. "I won't bug you, I promise. But I'm here if you just… don't want to be alone at home"

"Are you sure it's ok?"

"Of course, I wouldn't have offered if it wasn't"

"You totally would've" you weakly laughed, "You always put other people first."

He didn't know how to tell you that it was you who he was putting first - not other people. Sure, he cared about his friends, but he wasn't doing this because he was a caring person, he was doing this because he cared about you. And on top of that, he hoped that this night he was about to spend with you would be the first one on a long, maybe endless, list of things he planned on doing in order to make sure that you finally realized that, even if you hadn't seen it before, to some, to him, you really did come first. 

After that, Chan offered to go to the drive through two blocks away for some food, but the laziness prevailed. You wanted to get home faster and weren't about to let him go by himself, so as he searched for a parking spot behind your building, you tapped in the order on your phone and placed it before entering your apartment.

While the atmosphere was still somewhat tense, you two managed to enjoy the food and down two liters of tea without any upsetting topic being brought up. 

By the time you decided to head to bed, it was already half past 4. And if Chan had to insist on taking the couch, you also insisted on making it as cozy for him as possible, bringing him 3 different blankets, 4 pillows and an army of stuffed animals to keep him company. 

But while fatigue had already crept up your spine and made your eyelids feel heavy, sleep only circled around you and refused to settle. It was your buzzing mind and hurricane of thoughts that kept the sleep at a safe distance, and it was just a matter of time until you had to get out of bed.

This was why you insisted he took your room, so that now, when you wanted to go into the kitchen, you wouldn't have to walk past him. But since there was nothing to be done about it now, you settled for tiptoeing your way to the sink, filling up a glass of water and downing it in the blink of an eye.

Truth be told, you wanted another tea, but the sound of the boiling water would for sure wake Chan up. Maybe a pudding would do, you thought to yourself as you licked the lid before throwing it into the trash. It was good, your favorite - no surprise since you were the one who bought it, but it didn't do much. Chips? Nah, and even if you wanted some, you forgot to get a new bag anyway. Then.. fruit? But after tea and pudding? Also a no. 

It was getting annoying - nothing to keep you busy so you wouldn't have to return to your room. The one obvious option that was left made you cringe. You wouldn't do that, he had been so nice to you all night, it would be very shitty of you to disturb his sleep. Or maybe… he had been so sweet to you all night, he definitely wouldn't mind being sweet a bit more, right?

So without giving yourself the chance to change your mind, you took off towards the couch, your eyes fixed on his sleeping - or not, frame. The way he raised his arm, along with the blanket, almost startled you.

"Come here" he chuckled, before even looking at you.

"Did I wake you?"

"Nope, I wasn't sleeping" he said and then waved his arm in the air, "Come on"

Your first instinct was again to ask if he was sure about it, but you brushed it off and climbed in beside him, cuddling against his chest as he wrapped his arm around your frame, covering you with the blanket all the way up to your cheeks.

"Thank you" you said, all your muscles relaxing under the warmth of his body pressed to yours. "I'm sorry I was mean to you earlier"

"You weren't mean to me" he shook his head. As a small but strong reassuring gesture, his fingers made their way to the back of your neck and lost themselves in your hair. He lightly scratched your scalp as he spoke. "The conversation wasn't pleasant so you just weren't as bubbly as usual, that's normal. You weren't mean to me, Y/n, don't worry"

"I really wasn't the nicest though"

"You don't have to be the nicest with everyone all the time"

"Not with everyone, with you. You have the biggest heart in the world, I don't ever want to upset it"

"That's ok" Chan hummed, kissing the top of your head, "She understands, you didn't upset her."

"Your heart is a she?" you giggled.

He wasn't going to say that his heart was a she because you were his whole heart - that would've been cheesy, but it was late and the love of his life was wrapped around him, so he didn't judge himself for it, just brushed the thought aside. "I don't know why I said she," he lightly chuckled, "It felt right, I guess?"

Without saying anything, you cuddled closer so that you could press your ear against the left side of his chest. He felt calm around you, but his heart drummed against your cheek and it made you feel closer to him and safer than ever, "Thank you"

"Anything for you" Chan hummed, allowing the both of you to finally relax enough to be able to fall asleep. 

The next morning came and went, neither of you showing any signs of planning to wake up any time soon. A little bit past noon however, maybe around 1pm, Chan started stirring in his sleep. When he opened his eyes and checked his phone, the urge to just say fuck it and remain in your soft embrace almost won. But he had another thing on his mind, probably the only thing in the world that could've ever gotten him to leave that couch. 

For a split second he thought it would be rude to rummage through your kitchen so he stopped dead in his tracks and looked at his shoes by the front door. He could go out and buy the ingredients he needed to make breakfast, but what if you heard the door and woke up, that would ruin the surprise. Plus, in the past, he'd been given free access to absolutely everything in your apartment, why would this morning be any different. 

"Jesus, why am I like this, calm down, it's just an omelet" Chan said to himself as he opened your fridge and got to work.

Shortly after, you woke up too. Disappointment hit him a bit when he realized he couldn't surprise you with food anymore, but one thing he didn't know he needed in his life was a cooking session with you. There were so many little things he didn't know about you, so many things that he was so ready to love - the ridiculous amount of kitchen towels you used, the fact that you washed your hands a hundred times while cooking because who wants to touch the cheese with tomato juice on their fingers, the fact that there was a picture of a random dog you thought was cute on one of your cupboard doors and so on. He didn't have to try hard to find something to make him giddy inside, not when he was so close to this genuine, unbothered and honest version of you.

Once the food was done, you both took your seats across from one another at the table, and the topic of discussion you had just started swiftly melted away in favor of comfortable silence and the occasional utensil clatter.

"Hey, um, can I ask you something?" you questioned as you toyed with a piece of bread on your plate. "And please don't be afraid to humble me in case I'm reaching"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Am I the reason you haven't even looked at any type of alcohol whenever we went out during the past few months?"

Even though he wasn't facing you, instead staring down at his food, you still saw his eyes widen in.. embarrassment maybe? "I um… I hoped you wouldn't notice"

His reaction only made you soften further, a very strange warm feeling spreading from the middle of your chest. "You didn't have to do that, Chan"

"I know I didn't" he nodded and only looked at you for a split second before repeating himself, eyes fixed on his plate. "I know I didn't, you didn't even ask me to, but I wanted you to have that"

"Chan…"

He still wasn't meeting your eyes. "You said you didn't feel safe if everyone around you was drunk, and that's totally understandable, especially since our friend group is mostly guys. And like I know, I know none of them would ever do anything to make you feel uncomfortable or anything, but still… I know you asked your ex not to drink too much when you went out together, but he never listened. I saw he never listened and I saw the look in your eyes, so I don't know… I did the next best-" he stopped to shake his head, "I did what I could"

"Channie" you pleaded, extending your hand across the table for him to take, but he didn't. However, he looked up, met your eyes and continued speaking. 

"Like it's not even that big of a fucking deal

you know? We all have needs, we all deserve someone to listen to us and to care for us, what does he do? Partners are supposed to make each other feel safe and heard and him… fuck him! Fuck him for treating you like that. Fuck him for disrespecting you. Fuck him for making you, you out of all people, a literal angel we're all blessed to have in our lives, look into my eyes and tell me you think you're stupid. Fuck him for getting into your head and making you think all those awful things-"

That was it. You couldn't bear it anymore. You dropped everything you had in your hands and rushed around the table to him, all but tackling him off the chair with the way you threw yourself against him. It was the best way you could come up with to help him calm down, to show him that you were there, and you were ok, and that everything was fine. 

"Hey, Chan, it's ok" you cooed, brushing his hair, "It's ok, can you look at me?"

He did. "I'm sorry I got carried away" he shook his head, "I just… I hate him"

"I know…"

"You deserve someone better. I wish you never met him. And what's worse, what's keeping me up at night, is that I don't even know the full story. What I know is from what I've seen, I don't even want to think-"

"Then don't"

That hit him hard. "God, Y/n.. no.. I'm so sorry, I-"

"It's ok" you smiled and pushed some curly strands of hair off his forehead, "It's all over now, it's all in the past"

"Y/n" Chan shook his head and stood up to face you properly, wrapping his fingers around your wrists. "You know I'm always here, right? Whatever happens, or happened or might happen, I'll always be here for you. You have me, always. Ok?"

"Yeah, mhm" you nodded, teary eyes looking directly into his, "I know"

"You can always come to me, talk to me, anything, ok?"

"Yep"

"Always"

"Always" you nodded again and allowed him to bring you into a hug. 

"And I just wanna say that I know it's just a matter of time until you find someone who will make you happy the way you deserve, but until then, let me be the one to do that"

"Make me happy?" you beamed, looking up at him, "You already make me happy"

"Ok, but like-" Chan chuckled, dimples out and all  "Really happy"

"Really happy? What does that mean?"

"It means we've been so busy with work and life, we haven't hung out as much as we used to. We could start doing that again, and even as just your best friend, I know I can treat you so much better"

You probably should've taken him more seriously, "Like the Shawn Mendes song?"

Chan cringed for a second - not at the song, but at the fact that only now did he realize how cheesy he had been. "Yeah.. like the Shawn Mendes song"

"Can you learn it? And then sing it for me?"

"I, uh… yes, I guess I can"

"No, scratch that, I want a better song. I want a serenade"

"You want me to serenade you?" Chan laughed, most likely thinking you were joking.

"Yes. With a guitar and all!"

"Obviously with a guitar. What kind of a dumbass serenades someone without a guitar?"

"I don't know" you shrugged, "Some people use portable speakers and stuff"

Eyes rolled the back of his head, he pretended to shake off the distaste. "And they say romance is dead"

"But romance isn't dead, so you'll use your guitar"

His tone turned sassy and sarcastic, his hip popping to the side. "Ok, guitar. Noted. Anything else you want? Strawberries dipped in chocolate? Roses?"

"Um.. yes!? To both"

For a second he looked surprised but then jumped back into the game. "I'm writing these down, I'm not kidding" he warned, taking his phone off the table and opening the notes app. 

"Good" you moved closer to look at his screen, "And, urgh, I don't know if I want you to wear a suit and tie or a leather jacket"

"Please don't make me wear a suit," he begged.

"Ok, suit and tie. Write it down"

"Write it down" he mocked you while he did as told. "Anything else?"

"Candles!"

"Ok, candles, noted"

"And bring Berry"

"Ok, Berry.." he typed. While you had a few more ideas as to how to keep this charade going, Chan was on a different page. "I'm aware that this is just a joke, but you know I'd actually love to do all of these for you, right?"

"I know" you confessed, your attitude swiftly changing as you melted under his sweet and caring gaze. "I actually do know you'd do this, and a lot more for me. But you really don't have to, not like this, not just because it's something that I'd like but haven't gotten in the past. Maybe someday, under a different context, but please, don't feel responsible for this right now"

"I don't" he wholeheartedly shook his head. "I don't feel responsible for this, and I'm not gonna do it. But if you do wake up one morning and feel like it, just let me know, ok?"

"Yes, ok" you giggled and wrapped your arms around his waist. "Thank you"

With his arm around your shoulders, he pressed his lips to your forehead. "Anything for you"

-

5 weeks later

The dishes were done, the trash had been taken out, your kitchen was spotless and so was your living room. And while never in your life had you ever allowed any of your guests to help you tidy up after a party, tonight had been different. Chan lingered around after everyone else had left and cheerfully helped you clean up the place, despite the clock having already struck 4. 

A small part of you still felt bad for keeping him around at that hour, but a bigger part of you was happy to still have him around.

You didn't mind being alone, but you wanted him around. That was why once you were finally done making your apartment look decent again, the second Chan dared look in the direction of where his jacket and shoes were, you instantly spoke up. 

"Ah, Channie! You're not that tired, are you?"

"Nuh-uh, no. Not really" he lied through his teeth. His eyes were half closed, his shoulders slumped and even standing up felt like a tedious task. But just like you, he didn't want to leave either. "Why?"

"I-um-" you struggled to come up with something, "Could you maybe take a look at my laptop? It's been acting funny"

Just as bad of a liar as he was. But he found it funny and didn't even hesitate before agreeing. 

He sat on the couch and waited for you to bring your laptop, which you placed on the coffee table in front of him. "What's wrong with it?" he questioned, unable to hide his knowing smile.

"I don't know" you grinned too but in pure amusement with your antics, "It's acting… funny"

"Really? Let's see"

And just so as luck had it, the laptop was working perfectly fine. "How did you do that?" you pretended to gasp. "You fixed it!"

"I did?" he chuckled, "Magic hands, I guess"

"Yeah… probably. But I think you should stay for a bit. What if it stops working again?"

"We wouldn't want that, would we?" he hummed and then you noticed his eyes slip to the clock at the corner of the screen. 4:43am. It snapped you out of it in an instant, what the hell were you doing?

"Actually, I don't think I'm gonna use it tonight anyway. If it starts acting up again tomorrow, I'll call you. You can go, Channie. Thanks anyway"

"Can I stay anyway?" he asked and your heart nearly dropped. "Hang out for a bit?"

"Aren't you tired?"

"I am but.. I don't want to leave"

"Ok" you softly said and then fought to look anywhere but directly into his eyes. "There's some ice tea left, would you like some?"

"Mhm, sure"

Part of you expected him to refuse your offer, but you were glad he didn't. It was what most of you had to drink that night, an ice tea - soju combo you found online that turned out to be even better than expected, and now, the last remaining cups of it were on the coffee table as you settled back on the couch next to Chan. 

He sipped his drink in silence, a telltale sign that something was on his mind. It was obvious he was hesitant. "Just say it" you giggled, "There's something on your mind"

"I was just… I wanted to ask, but I don't know if I should"

You knew what he meant, or at least thought you did. "Ask me"

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to"

"You haven't said anything" you reminded him, "I don't know if I want to talk about it or not"

"Y/n…"

"Chan…" you rolled your eyes in the exact same way that he did, which made him playfully nudge your shoulder. 

"Are you ok with me drinking right now?" 

"Yes! Of course! I thought you drank earlier too”

“I did, I did… I just wanted to make sure”

“It’s fine, Chris, don’t worry” you smiled and leaned into his side for a second. “I offered you the drink. And even if I hadn’t, I told you, you don’t have to stay away from alcohol at all times just because of me”

“I know…” he said, his eyes instantly falling down to his hands. “I just don’t know the whole story and I don’t want to do something by mistake and make you feel uncomfortable”

“Channie… stop, no, don’t go there. I don’t want you to feel like walking on eggshells around me. I promise I’ll tell you if there’s ever anything, but you could never make me feel uncomfortable”

“I don’t want to push you if you don’t feel like talking about it but I’ve been dying to ask” he softly said and all you did was blink as a sign for him to continue. “When or like, how did this all start?”

“Um..” you took a deep breath. You knew it would come up, that he’d eventually gather the courage to ask, and you dreaded the fact that you let things get so far before telling him. “It’s not really that big of a deal, I think I make it seem like a way more serious thing than it actually is”

“You can still tell me, you know I always want to listen to you"

“I know” you smiled and met his calm eyes. He was patient, gathered into a ball on the couch, waiting for you to speak. He wasn’t going to pressure you or dismiss your feelings, he looked at you with adoration in his eyes, all the patience in the world, all just for you. “I.. I don’t feel comfortable around drunk people because I feel like they’re unpredictable. And unfiltered, I guess. It’s wrong of me to assume, but I can’t help but fear that everyone is going to act like that when they get drunk. And I’m always afraid that in case they say or do something that bothers me, they won’t listen when I try to talk to them, that they’d keep doing their thing no matter what I say. That was why I wanted my ex boyfriend to stay relatively sober when we went out together, so that I’d have someone to turn to in case I felt overwhelmed. Funny-” you chuckled bitterly, “He was the only one who acted like that whenever there was alcohol around. Everyone else is just more giggly and prone to start dancing out of nowhere”

“I’m very sorry he never listened to you, Y/n”

“That’s ok, it’s all in the past now. I like to think that if I ever find myself in a similar situation again, I’ll at least know to get out faster. I promised myself I’d never allow a person like this in my life, but I did, and that made me feel really bad about myself. So, baby steps, I guess”

“Why did you promise yourself that before?”

You sighed. “It was my dad. He used to drink a lot back when I was younger, always looking to start fights and all that. He’s the reason for a lot of my anxieties, but blaming him is not gonna get me anywhere. I’m just trying to do my own thing”

“And you’re doing a really good job, Y/n” Chan said. 

“You think so?” you giggled, the weight of the topic making you more inclined to show your emotions, no matter how much you’d have liked to keep a strong front.

“I really do” he nodded, “And I love to see it”

“You know it’s thanks to you, right?”

“It’s not thanks to me, Y/n” Chan rolled his eyes and opened his arms for you. “Come here”

After setting your drink down, you crawled closer and cuddled into his chest, your head tucked right under his chin. “It is, because you gave me everything and never expected anything in return. I barely felt comfortable enough to be myself when I was alone, but you made me feel safe enough to realize that maybe there’s nothing wrong with me, that I can accept myself and that maybe other people will accept me too. And at the same time, I realized that I don’t really care what other people see in me or not, because you see me and you like me just the way I am, and that’s a big deal to me.”

When you stopped speaking, you couldn’t see him. You had your cheek pressed against his chest and even though you were able to feel his heart rate quicken, you didn’t think much of it. But when he failed to answer, you quickly turned your head to look at him. His glossy eyes met yours, bottom lip popping out as he struggled to keep himself from letting out more than he considered appropriate.

“I just really, really love you, Channie” you said past the heavy lump that was building in the back of your throat. “And going back to what you asked me earlier, no, you could never make me feel uncomfortable. Not that it matters much, but the last time I saw you drunk, you spent one whole hour reading the truth or dare cards and laughed your heart out by yourself and then you went to sleep. But even so, I think I’m past the point where it’s about what you say or what you do, it’s just… you. I love you” you said again and squeezed him in your hold, arms tightening around his frame until your joints hurt. It made him chuckle and his head fell forward, along with a little, stray tear that landed on your shoulder.

“I love you, Y/n” he tried to whisper, as a pathetic attempt to hide the way his voice trembled. But you heard it, you felt it, and in return, only smiled as you looked up at him.

"You're my person"

"I'll be whatever you want me to be, so then I'll take it, I'll be your person" 

"No, you don't get it" you laughed and cuddled back into the cushions so you could face him as you gathered your knees to your chest. "You are my person. I always considered my roommate to be my best friend, and I always thought my partner should be my half. But it's still always been you, the one person I run to and the one person I always want to talk to. I guess that never sat right with me." as you spoke, your tone got progressively lighter, until a giggle escaped, "I guess I need you out of my life so I can move on"

"Hey!" Chan's face suddenly got serious. He nudged your knee, fixed you with his stare and pointed a finger in your face. "Don't say that"

But you did, you said it, and were ready to say it again. It was a dumb thought, you knew that, but still, you couldn't shake it. It had been in the back of your mind for too long, popping up at the most inopportune moments, but this wasn't one of those. Now you were being honest, getting stuff off of your chest, and if there was a moment to say this out loud, it was now. 

"I'm serious" you leaned your temple against your closed fist and looked down, "I don't want this to sound like a 'reject me so I can move on' type of thing, but I do look for you in other people. And I know I'm not gonna find you there, but I still get disappointed when I don't" 

"But why not me? Why look for me in other people when I'm right here?" 

"Don't say that" you cuddled closer into yourself. "I thought about it, of course I did. And I wanted to make a move, more than once, but we wouldn't work. This isn't right"

While he looked hurt by your words, there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes - in the way he looked at you, as if he was one step away from having it all and was determined to fight for it. "Why do you think that?"

"I already feel like a leech, but it's one thing when you're just my friend. I don't think we'd have a very healthy attachment. You pieced me back together, and I love that - for myself. But it wouldn't be fair to you. You shouldn't have to constantly do that for your partner. At least not when they can't do the same for you"

"Y/n" he said in a serious tone, his eyes fixed on yours. "You can't possibly believe that"

"It's true, though"

"No, it's not. Just because you've been through a difficult time and I've been here for you, doesn't mean you haven't been there for me too!"

"Yeah, but I haven't done anything any of your other friends wouldn't have."

"Well then" he began speaking and struggled to hide his grin. "Why did you do all of those things for me if you knew I had others who could do them?"

"Why?" you frowned. "Why!? Because I wanted to. Because I wanted to be-" but then it hit you. "Oh shut up!" you exclaimed and stood up from the couch, your feet involuntarily leading you towards the kitchen. "I'm not having this conversation with you!"

"Y/n! Come back here!" Chan laughed out loud and jumped to follow you, all a giggle as he caught up with you. He placed his chin on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chuckles even more uncontrollable now that he had seen the flustered look on your face. "You're my person too!"

"Chan, stop it" you giggled and hid your face behind your palms.

"Who let's me sleep over because they know that if I'm alone I'll spend the entire night working? Who's the first one that gets to hear my songs? Who do I call crying when I miss home? Is it you?" he chuckled, "Is it? The way you come over every single time I tell you I miss my family. Remember that one time you had some work to do, but you still came over and we haven't talked for hours because you were busy, but just the fact that you were there, with me, put me back on my feet? Y/n, look at me"

You shook your head, overwhelmed and completely confused by the hurricane of emotions swirling around your chest. 

"You're my home, you dumb ass" he kissed the side of your head. "It's funny to me that you didn't know"

Itchy on the inside and too fired up to stay still, you wiggled your way out of his hold and turned to face him. "How was I supposed to know?" you threw your arms up in frustration, eyes glossy as you giggled your way through the sentence, "You never told me, you idiot"

"Was it really that effortless for you? To be everything I ever needed?"

"Oh, shut up!" you scoffed, the tears now threatening to spill down your cheeks. Again, you tried to hide from him, but Chan wasn't having it.

"Come here" he hugged you again, "I love you"

"Leave me alone" you cried, face hidden in the crook of his neck. 

It might have looked like he found it amusing, but he too was overwhelmed. His little chuckles were nothing else other than a sign of all the admiration and awe he felt inside when he looked at you, of the warmth around his heart as you clung to his hoodie like your life depended on it. 

But eventually you pulled away. "Ok, I'm done. I love you" you wiped your tears and turned to leave, "But I'm also done with this conversation"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Chan exclaimed, not missing a beat before caging you in between his arms and the counter behind you. "All these years I thought my feelings were one sided, today I find out they aren't, that you feel the same way, but then you tell me you don't want to do anything about it?"

"Basically"

"Y/n!" he laughed in despair, "Come on. Give me one good reason we shouldn't be together. Just one"

"I- I don't have one. I'm just scared"

"Of what?" Chan asked softly, "It's just me. You know me"

"I don't know" you lied. "It's scary. You make it scary"

"I make it scary?" he gasped. 

"What if I fuck up?"

"What if I fuck up?"

You scoffed. "Yeah, right"

"Love, at this point, you're just being delusional. I have no idea what's going on inside that head of yours, but I'd love to find out. Tomorrow. Now it's the buttcrack of morning, I've been dying to kiss you for god knows how long and you're just standing here, spewing nonsense as if you're not the most amazing person I've ever met."

"I'm sorry" you looked down.

Chan tiled your chin back up so you'd look at him, "Don't be sorry, just trust me"

"I trust you" 

"Then, can I kiss you?"

And a little nod was enough. And no matter how nervous you might have been, his hold, like so many times before, drained the worries right out of your mind. And the awkwardness - ever present whenever you kissed someone for the first time, especially someone you cared about, barely managed to make its presence felt. Because at the end of the day, nothing was new. You may have never kissed him before, but the intimacy was familiar. You knew his touch, how he felt, how gentle he was and how much he cared. Only now, you got to experience that through a kiss shared in your kitchen, while the sun was rising, after you opened your heart for him and he still craved you as much as ever. 

And while in a way it felt cathartic - the release of so much pent up emotion, it was still frustrating. You couldn't get as close as you wanted no matter how hard you pressed yourself against him, and you couldn't get enough of his taste despite going at it until dizziness took over. 

It was hard to pull away for air when the kiss itself felt like breathing. 

The sun was already up and at the top of the sky by the time you opened your eyes. You had probably gotten around 5 or 6 hours of sleep when something stirred you awake. 

Excited to wake up for the first time in ages, you didn't care what interrupted your sleep, you just stretched over to the other side of the bed, and frowned when you found it empty. 

But then there it was again, the sound that woke you up. The neighbors, you thought, climbing out of bed. 

The reasonable thing to do was head to the bathroom, fix your hair a little, maybe brush your teeth, but there was something else on your mind and you went to look for it. 

"Chan?" you stopped dead in your tracks in the middle of the hallway, one hand rubbing your squinted eyes. "What are you-"

"Ah, fuck" he looked up at you, like a child caught red-handed. He didn't move, just sat there in his spot on his knees by the door, unable to come up with a way to word an explanation. He hoped you'd understand it yourself.

It took you a second but the details started coming one by one - the suit, the tie, the guitar against the wall. There were rose petals on the floor. And under Chan's arm - the source of the sounds that woke you up - Berry fidgeting and yelping, desperately trying to wiggle his way out Chan's grip and over to you. 

"Chan, what is this?" you scrunched your face at the itchiness in your nose and furiously blinked at the way your eyes suddenly started stinging. 

"You, uh… weren't supposed to wake up yet"

"Chan, what the fuck is this"

Wordlessly, he put Berry down and stood up. 

The dog sprinted at you, tail wagging as his little paws clawed at your legs. All you could do was pick him up and squeeze him to your chest, sinking your nose in his soft fur as a way to ignore everything else. 

"You don't like it," Chan simply said. It probably should have been a question, but the insecurity inside his chest made it sound like a statement. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

"Don't like it?" you mumbled, walking towards him as Berry still worked on greeting you with some well deserved and hungry licks all over your chin, cheek and jaw. "Chan, I-"

"I also got candles," he pointed to the kitchen table, "And strawberries. And there's chocolate too"

You walked over and spotted the bowl, full of chocolate dipping cream, covered with a plastic wrap. "Did you make this!?"

"No, no… I would've- I really wanted to, but there wasn't time. I asked Felix"

"You asked Felix?"

He responded with a shameful nod but then jumped to clarify. "I didn't tell him what I needed it for, I- I said it was just for fruit in general. I didn't want to tell anyone anything until I talked to you first, especially because I was a little bit pushy last night, so if you want me to leave, I'll leave-"

"Leave!? Pushy? No, you weren't pushy, stop it"

He breathed out relieved. "Ok, good, because I could barely sleep last night, I- I felt like I forced you to kiss me and I felt so bad, but you were already asleep and I didn't know-"

"Oh my god, no" you shook your head and launched yourself at him, a tight hug with Berry squeezed in the middle. "You didn't pressure me to do anything, relax"

And while the embrace felt good and homey for you, Chan didn't mirror your emtions. He was still on edge, only half of his grand plan having played out yet. "There's still the song, I promised I'd serenade you"

"You learned a song for me" you melted, "What song?"

"You haven't heard it before"

"I haven't?"

"No, because I wrote it. It's about you. For you. I wrote it when you first joked about all of this, I wrote it all that night, and I've been dying to play it for you ever since then, but now I'm so nervous, I think-" he tugged at the collar of his shirt, "I think I'll combust"

While in awe with everything happening, you weren't quite happy. "But I don't like this, Chan. You put so much effort into this and I haven't even washed my face. Can you give me a second? So I don't look like-" you gestured up and down your body, "this"

"You know… I feel like I've been so cheesy and over the top this morning, that I don't think one more cliche is going to make that big of a difference."

As you switched Berry from one side to the other due to your arms growing tired, you raised one eyebrow in confusion.

With nothing but admiration in his eyes, Chan smiled, "You have never looked more beautiful to me"

Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!! 🥺 feedback makes my day so I'd love to hear what you thought!!! ❤️❤️

[saccharineomens]

A small Chainsaw Man Analysis

They're referencing this post:

(Sorry i can't respond to your ask directly, tumblr kept crashing)

LMAO ok Anon you win but I can’t promise this will be very articulate or coherent

Ok so when I first heard about Chainsaw Man I heard it was The Manga Of All Time and the anime has been Majorly Hyped and Everyone Loves It so I was curious. Then I went and watched the anime and I was like ‘huh ok I mean. It’s good but it’s not like mindblowing.’

Then I read the manga all the way to the end of part 1 and I understood.

So the world of Chainsaw Man is set in a Fucking Bleak reality. Like, overwhelmingly so. The fact that devils exist and can murder humans on a whim and it’s basically treated as an unavoidable inconvenience because how the hell can you stop them, really, when they’re functionally immortal? The best you can do is kill them, send them to Hell, and hope they don’t die there and revive back on Earth. The protagonist is a 16 year old orphan who sold parts of his body to pay off a “noodle incident” debt inherited from his father, and then the kid was murdered by the yakuza he owed money to because they decided they liked devils, actually, and didn’t want him around killing them. In CHAPTER ONE. Why would anyone enjoy reading about a story set in a world like this?

Because of Aki, and Power, and the family Denji created with them. It takes a while for the ball to get rolling in the story, because they’re strangers at the beginning, but any manga reader is gonna know what I mean when I talk about how they love each other. Denji comes across as a sex-obsessed, horny teen, but that’s just because he craves emotional intimacy and sex is the only way he thinks he could get it. The truth is that his shower/bath with Power was the exact kind of vulnerability and intimacy he was craving, and it WASN’T sexy. The narrative didn’t treat it as sexy. Denji even notes that it wasn’t sexy, to his surprise, but it was nice to be able to be vulnerable with another person. Then there’s Aki, who imprinted on Denji and Power so hard he straight-up was considering quitting being a devil hunter so he could just live a normal life with his new family. He was willing to abandon his obsession with the gun devil, something that he’d been driving his will to live for years, for them. It was Himeno’s death and the letter he read that made him realize that the life of a country mouse might not be so bad, if it’s with the people he loves. (I know that’s a loaded sentence out of context but manga readers know what I mean when I bring up the country mouse, right)

I bring all of this up to show how even in a grim, dark, depressing world like Chainsaw Man, there is hope; and that hope comes in the form of love. Love in a general, not romantic, sense. Love of having toast and jam for breakfast, love of a movie, love of a family.

Now, to Makima.

Makima is Really Fucking Goddamn Powerful. She is literally reality breaking, almost as much as Chainsawman. (For the purposes of this essay, I’m referring to Pochita/Chainsawman and Denji as separate entities.) Makima is able to control anyone so long as she feels she has power over them, and she has a contract with the fucking Prime Minister. That’s a terrifying power. She’s literally the manifestation of the fear of being controlled.

And that’s a lonely existence.

Pochita/Chainsawman says it himself. When you’re so powerful, you struggle to make connections with people. Either they worship you and put you on a pedestal, or they fear you. You can’t get close to anyone, no matter how hard you try. The only way Pochita was able to do so was because Denji had no idea who Chainsawman was.

Makima doesn’t show this emotional weakness of hers, because it directly opposes her powers. If people saw her as needing connections with other people, they wouldn’t respect/fear her, and she would literally become weaker as a result. (The same way that as Chainsawman becomes more beloved by the general populace as a Hero, he becomes weaker.) But there’s a point where we, the audience, get to see this side of her. In her date with Denji.

Quick recap (of one of the best chapters in the whole manga, thematically): Denji and Makima go on a date at a movie theater. They sit and watch like six movies in a row over the course of the day. The first five are packed with people and are funny/entertaining, but not very deep. Neither Denji nor Makima are very impressed with these. Then…I’ll just post the comic here.

The final movie they see is more of an indie arthouse film. Most importantly, it shares an intimate, vulnerable moment between two people who hug. Denji cries because he sees this thing he craves, as I’ve elaborated on. Then he looks over and sees that Makima is also crying. We already know why, as Pochita said: she is unable to get close to anyone, due to the nature of her powers and the nature of her being a devil. Because of this, Makima craves connections with other people.

Makima straight up tells the audience why she’s doing the things she’s doing. If she has control over Chainsawman, she can have him eat other devils and create a world where those fears never existed. She truly, honestly believes this would make a happier life for humans. But the problem with that mentality is that in a world without bad things, in a world without fear…there’s no good things, either. How do you tell how “good” a good thing is, if you have nothing to compare it against? How can you tell that one in five movies is “good”, if you don’t experience the other four?

Why would anyone enjoy reading about a story set in a world like this? Because despite all of the horrible things that happens, love exists. It shows up over and over and over again. Love exists. It was there. It mattered. It was worth fighting for.

That brings me to the conversation between Makima and Denji I love so much, and why the end of Part 1 works so well.

Makima thinks that a world without bad movies fear would be better. She thinks that in this world, she could be loved. She thinks that in this world, humans could be happy forever because they never suffer hardship.

And Denji knows for a fact that that's wrong, because without bad movies, the good movies don't stand out. You can't say that jam and toast is a great breakfast if all you've ever eaten is jam and toast for breakfast.

And that's why Makima is tragic (because she's never experienced the love that Denji has, and never experienced the hardships he has), and that's why Makima is wrong.

And all of this, the whole conflict of the story, is summed up in three lines between Denji and Makima in a graveyard. It's perfect.

[youmakemyhearthowl]

The first time Steve and Eddie actually get to hang out alone after all things Upside Down have been handled, Eddie leaves feeling justified in the fact that to him Steve Harrington is still a stuck up snob. It isn’t until after he runs his dilemma past Uncle Wayne that it really starts to set in that maybe, maybe Eddie was being the stuck up snob and not Steve.

“He’s got a point Ed’s.” He says it in that soft tone he only uses when he knows he’s saying something that might upset Eddie.

“What? Wayne you’re supposed to be on my side here.” Eddie’s arms fly out as he speaks, shooting a glare at his Uncle.

“Eddie, you of all people know how hard it can be to find your place, especially as a freshman, and basketball is important to Lucas. It was kinda a dick move the way you responded to them boys asking if they could postpone your game for one night.” Eddie let out a groan at his words, his face falling onto the table with a loud thud.

“We don’t postpone Hellfire Uncle Wayne. It’s literally never happened in the years I’ve run it, I wasn’t about to do it for a stupid fucking basketball game.” Wayne grunts.

“And that’s where your problem lies Eddie. It wasn’t some “stupid game” not for Lucas. It was important, and you brushed him aside and punished him for having an interest you don’t agree with. Which is exactly what everyone else was doing to you about your dragons game.” Eddie’s head snapped up his eyes landing on Wayne, wide and suddenly a little glassy. Because Wayne had a point. He had a really important point that Eddie hadn’t even stopped to really consider before. Which, fuck it was the exact point Steve had been trying to make, but Steve had a hard time with words and talking about feelings, he’d fumbled over them and stoped and started his explanation so many times that Eddie had just gotten mad and annoyed and didn’t really even try to listen.

And Eddie had been mean to Steve. Telling him to stop stuttering over it and to just “Spit it out Harrington, Jesus it’s not like it should be hard for you to be an asshole about my hobbies.”

Fuck Eddie was a dick. He’d been a dick to Lucas and Dustin and Mike too when they’d just wanted one night to support their best friend and he threatened to just kick them out of the club if they bailed. He’d acted just like the people he detested at school, the bullies and the jocks.

He had some apology’s to make.

Standing abruptly Eddie squeezed Wayne in a quick embrace whispering his thanks as he scrambled out the door of the trailer to his van.

His first stop needed to be the kids, because honestly, he wasn’t even sure where to start with his apology to Steve.

Because Eddie had been hanging out with Steve for weeks now in the group. Him, Robin, Steve, Nance and Jonathan as well as Argyle, hung out almost everyday. And Eddie knew Steve. Knew how fiercely he loved his friends and those kids, and how he tended to not talk a lot in big group settings because he always struggled to find the right words to articulate what he wanted to say. Needed extra time to sit on them to get them out the right way, and would shut down as soon as someone talked over him because he was taking too long.

Fuck.

The first time they’d finally gotten to hang out alone, Eddie had been so excited to really pick Steve’s brain, let him talk and give him the space to find the words or ask questions he needed to. And Steve and him had been having a great time until Steve had brought up the championship game. Stumbling and trying to tell Eddie that Lucas had felt isolated from the group now and like sometimes he didn’t fit with them anymore because Eddie had been a little mean to him because he was a basketball player too. And Steve hadn’t even been mean to Eddie about it either. Now that he thought about the few sentences Steve had been able to tumble through. Throwing in ‘I know you love that game and it’s important to you and the kids look up to you so much man, they love you.” And Eddie has just been an absolute monster back because he just assumed Steve was still King Steve and had been waiting and biding his time to come at Eddie. Fuck.

What was he even supposed to say to Steve now? He’d tried so hard to always make sure Steve felt he could still speak , make him feel safe and comfortable around Eddie and never stupid, because Eddie watched and paid attention to Steve way too much (it’s not a crush shut up) and then he’d just gone and ripped that rug out from under the poor guy, for standing up for his kids. Their kids.

“Eddie? What are you doing here man?” Lucas’s voice pulled Eddie out of his head as he parked the van in front of the Sinclair house, where Lucas, El and Dustin were apparently attempting to learn how to skateboard from Max.

“Hey uh, can we talk for a second man?” Eddie hadn’t felt this nervous since DMing his first campaign. Lucas nodded, coming over to stand next to Eddie who’d gotten out of the van and was leaning against the side now, arms crossed over his chest.

“Listen, I wanted to apologize. For how I acted in Hellfire, about you being on the basketball team.” He watches Lucas’s face closely, a look of surprise crossing the younger boy's face before he composes it.

“It’s cool Eddie, I mean I get it.”

“Nah man, listen. I was a royal dick to you. You were just trying to find your footing in high school and I didn’t make it any easier for you and that wasn’t cool of me. You’re always gonna be one of my lost sheep, and a member of Hellfire, and you’re allowed to have more than one interest . I shouldn’t have let my own insecurities and biases let me treat you like that. And I’m really sorry man.” He watched a myriad of emotions cross Lucas’s face before he settled on a small but happy smile.

“Well thank you Eddie. That really means a lot to me man. Hellfire’s really important to me. You are too. So thank you.” His smile grows as he speaks, before giving Eddie a quick hug and then running back off to join the others in their lessons. A sigh of relief makes Eddie’s whole body Sag.

One down, Steve to go.

Part Two here

[naamahdarling]

Hi. I’m feeling sad too, I think that tends to happen late at night. At least we can be sad together lol

Yeah it's just a 3:00 thing. Literally I call it the "three o'clocksies". One of the best mental health things I've ever done for myself is learning to look at the time, and if it's after 3:00 a.m., I just tell myself I will put those feelings away until the next day, and I can feel them then if I have to. It doesn't work every time, but it works about 70% of the time, which is a lot better than the maybe 15 or 20% of the time I managed to deal with it by just powering through. Big fan.

Learning to approach strong negative emotions not arising directly from a currently unfolding crisis as temporary, and strong positive emotions as gifts and memories that I will get to have later has been really helpful. "All things pass" can be barbed, because that means good stuff too will pass. But that's just the nature of things, and we have a lot more control over what memories and feelings we keep with us than we think we do.

That is part of why I try so hard to find goodness when badness is around me. Because it really does make bad things easier to bear. I don't mean like spinning bad things into good things, or saying that bad things happen for a reason, I just mean things like moments of common kindness between strangers (which are actually a thing we can create ourselves instead of waiting to have happen to us or to observe), or a beautiful sunset the day you break your ankle, or the very very small child in the corner at urgent care who won't stop talking very articulately and at great length about how much he fuckin' loves chicken nuggets, or the person who took one look at me and didn't charge me anything at the gas station the night we lost Raleigh, no questions asked.

These moments aren't actually insignificant. They're the fabric of our lives, and by observing them even in the bad moments, we prepare ourselves to see them the rest of the time, it makes things easier. It's like putting flowers in a hospital room inside your mind. I may feel like dying, but somebody brought a miniature goat named Tom Brady to PetSmart with them and I got to pet him.

I'm not full of shit here, I have really been through it this past year. It really is worth it to struggle to look and see ordinary life around you as full of small surprises and little kindnesses. It isn't about some kind of bullshit healing through positivity thing (I think "positivity" as it is pushed at us is toxic bullshit) it's not going to cure your mental illness or whatever, it isn't going to take you out of the terrible circumstances fucking you over, it isn't going to undo your trauma, it's just seeing all the small good things that are easy to overlook, and realizing that some days, seeing the small good things really can be enough. That isn't pathetic or bleak, that isn't trying to fill your belly with nothing but crumbs and telling yourself you're lucky, it's just an underlying kind of warmth that it would be really unfortunate to not look for and allow yourself to feel.

It's a way of inhabiting life deliberately, and not just suffering through it. And it's taking me years to develop, and no, I can't always hold on to it, it isn't something that you can be successful at 100% of the time. But man, things got a lot better for me when I started taking pictures of the sky almost every time I go outside, and admiring strangers' questionable fashion choices, and wondering about things like what kind of person would buy this puzzle featuring a John Deere tractor, and enjoying small brown birds having a dust bath next to the drive-thru at Sonic, or taking pictures of interesting graffiti, or noticing the single mirror-spangled drag queen platform high heel on the side of the road, all of that. Things got better for me when I started to really care that I got to see those things.

IDK this got long. But I think...it's all right to be sad, I think sometimes we just have to be even when we aren't sure why. And that can and should coexist with the rest of the world being out there and ready to be seen, even through tears.

[paper-crab]

Hi

(part two to Bye)

summary: Chris messed up. He’s desperate to fix it.

warnings: swearing, crying, blah blah blah

word count: 1066

Chris knew he should be feeling something, as he watched you walk out the door, but he didn’t. Some sick, twisted sense of pride wouldn’t allow him to express it; wouldn't allow him to beg you, the words “Stay, I’ll change for you,” on the tip of his tongue, so he watched silently as you left. The longer he stands in the entryway, the longer reality sinks in.

He realizes he’s been standing right where you left him for at least ten minutes when he hears the garage door open, Matt entering. He still doesn’t move.

“Chris?” Matt calls, expecting him to excitedly move to the kitchen. When he doesn’t, Matt realizes something’s wrong. “Chris, where is she?”

“Fuck…” Chris chokes out, trying not to cry. “Matt, I messed up.”

Nick walks in, carrying his bag of things. He sets them down on the counter with a loud thud. When he finally looks up, he notices something is amiss. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t- I can’t-” Chris stutters.

“Hey, it’s okay, take your time.” Nick tells him, walking over to give him a hug. Chris is finally allowing himself to express the emotions he felt earlier, and he feels overwhelmed. He holds onto Nick, and Matt walks over to join. “Kid, what happened?”

He softly sobs, trying to get out the words. “She told me- I didn’t- I needed to ask her out and I wouldn’t-”

“Breathe,” Nick reminds, patting his back. Chris continues struggling to articulate what was wrong. He feels like he is fighting himself to share his distressing realization; his realization of failure.

“So what are you gonna do? Let her leave, or man up and fix it!”

“Matt shut up,”

“No he’s right,” Chris says, pulling away from the two. “I need to stop wallowing and do something about it.”

“Okay, yeah! That’s what I’m saying!”

“Can you drive me to her place?”

Matt rolls his eyes, “Get your license.”

“Can't do anything about that right now, I’m a bit busy. Now just drive me over there,” Chris snaps, already walking to the car.

“Good luck!” Nick calls out, giving Matt a little push to help speed up the process.

“You’re not coming?”

“Fuck no, I’m not letting my McDonalds get cold. Who do you think I am?”

Matt gives an impatient shake of his head, giving Nick a slight glare as he grabs the car keys and walks out.

“Keep me updated!”

“Finally, what took you so damn long,” Chris blurts out the moment Matt gets in the car.

“Shut the fuck up and get your license then! I’m doing you a favor,” Matt grumbles, glancing in Chris’s direction, looking at his eyes. They’re red, along with his nose, and slightly bloodshot. He feels sympathy for his brother, even though he’s being annoying.

Chris rubs his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. “Just drive, okay? I need to fix this.”

Matt nods, starting the car and heading in your direction. He can sense Chris’s nervousness that’s being displayed in two ways: bouncing his leg, and tapping his fingers. As they approach your place, the anxiety Chris feels is only amplified. Matt parks, and Chris jumps out quickly.

“Just wait here, okay?” He says, voice shaky.

“You got it.” Chris starts to walk away, when he hears the window roll down. “Hey, kid! You got this,”

Chris nods, walking up the steps to your place. He hesitates before knocking, and while waiting for you to answer, he starts to feel sick. The seconds that pass feel like an eternity, and when you finally open the door, he gets a head rush.

You open the door, surprised to find Chris standing on the other side of it, looking distraught. Your complexion mirrors his own; bloodshot eyes, red nose, disheveled hair- the works really. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you can’t think of anything to say.

“What are you doing here?” You manage to utter, eyes widening in shock. His presence catches you off guard. Chris takes a moment to gather his thoughts, eyes trailing away from you as tension takes over. Briefly, he locks eyes with you again. “I… I messed up. I should’ve been clearer, I should have done things differently. I shouldn’t have let you go,” He stumbles over his words, whispering that last part. His voice, and face, is filled with regret.

Confusion clouds your expression. “Chris, what do you mean?”

“I realized… that I was wrong. I needed to express my feelings to you, and I didn’t. I hid behind my past words; words that don’t mean anything to me anymore- and I shouldn’t have. Now, I’m here to fix my mistakes.” He says, slowly gaining confidence.

“Chris, I’m not sure I understand,” You watch him carefully, voice coming out choked and soft. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

“I’ve been scared to admit it, hell I still am,” He starts, frowning into his words. “but I care about you a lot, more than you know, and I’ve been stupid. It was wrong of me to not make that clear, and I want to make things right.”

His words hang in the air between you, sincerity in his eyes apparent. You can feel the weight of the moment swirling like a thunderstorm inside your head.

You glance at him to go on.

“I want you, for real this time. I want to make it up to you, I want to treat you right, I want to take you on dates: I want to be better, for you.”

His heart pounds in his chest as he finally says the words you wanted to hear earlier; the words he wanted to say earlier. “I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry, so let me make it up to you. Please,”

“Okay,” you finally say, grabbing his hands to pull him closer to you. “take me out, prove that you want this too.”

A grin breaks out on his face as he reaches to hug you. “Tomorrow?” His tone is hopeful.

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up,” You say, poking his side as you tease him for not having his drivers license. He groans, but the smirk never leaves his face as he holds you close.

“I’m never going to fuck up like that again,”

“Never say never,”

“I mean it.” He tells you, tone firm. “Never.”

[butchsophiewalten]

for character bingo (if not done already) rosemary please!!

I really love these two.... I should draw them more, I always thoroughly enjoy it.

WOW THIS GOT REALLY EXTREMELY LONG. ITS UNDER THE CUT OK:

I'll start with Jack. I wax poetic about Jack a lot. He's a character that I find incredibly interesting, even if we don't really know particularly much about him yet. A lot of the things that I really like about him are like... interpretive? Or things that I've assumed. Hence the "not technically canon." I think a lot about "Jack Walten" as a like, a concept, within the universe of The Walten Files. Like, he was a man, who lived and had a place and a purpose within his community, but in the wake of his disappearance he's become sort of abstracted. I'm struggling to articulate this. I think of Jack as a character who has lost the ability to contextualize his own existence, and has instead become sort of an icon of himself.

I think to the community of Brighton he is a tragedy. He's a scary story. He's the memory of a man who was so well-known and so well-liked and then he up and disappeared one day and left countless rumors in his wake. And for Felix, I think he's always struggled to think of Jack as a person, and has always considered him more of a representation of his own inadequacy, and then a representation of his guilt. Felix has always kinda used Jack as a way to gauge himself. Like, Jack has always been a point of comparison. But then, Felix's relationship with Jack, to me, has also been a means for Felix to kinda improve his own self-image. I think a lot about Felix's very pleased sort of reaction to Jack's "You're a life saver, Felix." during the phone call in Bunnyfarm. I think Felix really desperately craves that sort of validation from Jack, because it makes him feel like less of a fuckup. Jack is a Good Person who has a Good Life and has his shit worked out, so if he's telling Felix he did good, he must be doing something right. That sort of dynamic where, for Felix, it's less about doing a favor for his friend, and more about chasing that dopamine hit that the validation will give him. Jack is a means to an end for him, where Felix wouldn't really care if it was Jack, or any other man who has a perceived position of success and privilege. (I have a lot more to say about this specifically, but this is turning into a Felix Analysis on my Jackmary Post, so I'm going to save it for the Felix bingo)

I got very distracted. I was trying to say that I think Jack is a person who, like, only really exists in the way the he is remembered, in the eyes of the people who remember him. Which is why Felix trying to scrub away his history with BSI is such a big deal, and why I also think it's really narratively and thematically interesting that Sophie *really struggles* to remember him. Like, she remembers him the least of anyone, almost. I think that's a really weighty sort of thing.

I don't want to talk for too long about this, because I've complained about it so many times already, but the sort of fandom perception of Jack Walten really irks me. And there's a lot of facets to his mischaracterization, I think. I could complain about the 'where the fuck are my children' TikTok audio for the millionth time, but I won't even bother. But I'm excited to see more of Jack. And I'm excited to learn more about him and to get a better idea of the sort of character he is and isn't, because I'm sure even my characterization of him is deeply flawed. Because we know so little.

ROSEMARY TIME: I love Rosemary Walten. This is another character where I think the Fandom Perception of her is so flaccid and boring. She's just Mother. She's just Woman. like so much of the time. And in fairness we don't really know very much about her, but I'm, again. very excited to learn. I like that she seems very headstrong, and I like how Martin characterizes her as being very ferociously protective of her family. I really want to know more about her relationship with Sophie during that month (and a bit) when everyone but the two of them had disappeared.

Really everything we've seen so far relating to her relationship with Sophie has been very striking to me. I'm sure this is to no-one's surprise. The "Am I still beautiful to you, Sophie?" Is still, to me, like the ultimate crescendo of the series. It's so stark. It's so fantastic. I think it's really easy to get caught up in a whirlwind of thinking about just how difficult and horrifying this character's life has been. And I'm exciting to see how this upcoming batch of episodes will continue to humanize her, and put that much more emphasis on the tragedy and horror of her death. And of her possessing a big animatronic sheep. I think a lot about Sophie hearing the a woman's dying screams through the speakers of that arcade cabinet, and recognizing it as the voice of her mother. I think that's really terrible and fantastic.

I wish I could talk more about her, like, independently, as a person, but we still know so little. So much of what I feel is assumptions. I love Rose though, I'm excited for more Rose. I'm excited for more everyone.

[ronearoundblindly]

for shut up jensen hehe

11. How do they feel about nicknames/pet names? If they like them, what pet names do they use? If they hate them, why do they feel that way?

17. How well do they communicate? Are they open with their feelings/thoughts or more reserved? Why?

32. Do either of them drink? If so, who’s the lightweight, and how does their partner care for them?

Questions from this ask game and for this Valentine's fic with awkward date!Jake Jensen.

Whoopsy, this got a bit spicy...

11

In typical dude fashion, Jake prefers more masculine nicknames or terms of endearment, specifically, 'handsome' and 'big guy.' He's not opposed to softer ones, but you'll have to only use those in private unless you want to upset him.

To be fair, he already gets relentlessly teased by his colleagues. Just let him have this, yeah?

As far as nicknames for you, he's waited so long to have his own girl and sweetheart that he sticks with the classics, too. 'Sweets' or 'sweetheart' are the most common. 'My girl' is mostly private and frequently sexual. 'M'lady' is because he's a fucking dork.

🙄🤣

17

Ehhh, Jake is not articulate with the more complicated feelings. He can deal in certainties--how much he wants you or what is attractive about you for him, saying 'I love you' actually ends up being pretty easy, etc.--but when it comes to things that Jake thinks he should feel a certain way about but doesn't, he struggles to say.

Like for whatever reason (because at first he doesn't know the reason), he can't share space very well. He hesitates to spend the whole night. He hesitates to use your bathroom or shower even. He definitely hesitates to move in.

This takes many coaxing conversations to comprehend until finally he confesses that he has so little space to himself when working that his own apartment is a haven in every way. He has complete control of that space. The eventual middle ground is moving into a place big enough for his own office/tech room and his own bathroom. Jake needs a retreat from everything. You are allowed in there, of course. It isn't a part of your home that's off-limits to you, but he's responsible for those areas. Nothing ever moves unless he moves it.

32

Oh yeah, y'all drink. Nobody gets blind-drunk for the most part, but you have drinks out with friends, with dinner, and most notably, play drinking games.

Jake loves drinking games--as well as strip poker, as discussed here--but gets overzealous and can get very drunk, very quickly sometimes. He's not a lightweight, but it can escalate when he doesn't pay attention to the volume of alcohol he consumes.

Drunk Jake gets handsy and has no tact. He will face-plant into your pussy or motorboat your breasts. This is just a thing you have to live with or preemptively stop him from doing/get him home quickly. There have been incidents of quickies in bar bathrooms because he will not stop grabbing at you or talking about how fucking hard you make him.

Spoiler alert: this is not a quiet man when he 'whispers' dirty things to you OR when he comes while tipsy. You absolutely have to cover his mouth and pray nobody overhears if you're still out and about.

The key thing about Jake is that you feel very safe with him, and that translates to a comfort where you trust you'll be okay even if you go a little overboard yourself. He's attentive. He notices changes in your mood easily. He can sober up super fast if he senses you need help or want to leave.

Ok and this barely has to do with alcohol but Jake has this thing about how romantic it is to be super close on your nights in. If you two are watching a movie together or even playing a video game, your body is against his, either by way of snuggling into his side or sitting between his legs. It's half the fun to hold his controller in his hands right above yours and try to distract you by kissing your neck (or you by wiggling your ass against his lap). I mention this because if you two are gonna sit that close and kiss and share everything, you usually share a drink, too. There's only one beer, or one glass of wine, or one cocktail on the table for both of you. Almost always your choice of drink, he doesn't have a preference usually, but it also creates fewer dishes.

Jake Jensen hates doing dishes. It's just...a thing...

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Jake Jensen Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[kentoberry]

PICK UP THE PHONE ! — SATORU GOJO .

⭒— SUMMARY · your ex won't leave you alone! better do something about it. . .

⭒— CONTENT · fem reader, daddy kink, dumbification, slapping, breeding, exhibitionism, implied toxic ex, light name calling.

“more, more, more,” you chanted, melodic moans echoing bouncing off of your bedroom walls. 

gojo only smirked, continuing to tease your pulsing cunt by inserting only the tip of his cock and subsequently retreating, and repeating this motion as he watched any remaining sense disappear from your adorable, brainless expression. he liked watching you go dumb for him, so dumb that you would struggle to from a sentence. the only word that you needed to worry your pretty little head over was his name.

“more of what, princess? use your big girl words,” 

whimpers persisted as you tried your best to articulate yourself, to string some skewed semblance of a sentence together. 

“cock,” you whined, “‘lease fuck me proper, sato-”

a jarring slap landed over your cheeks, followed with a harsh warning from gojo reminding you “that’s not my name.”

your hips only bucked up as the stinging sensation in your cheek diffused into pleasure, increasing your need for a release. gojo's response was to push your hips down into your mattress, stilling your movements and jolting you away from his cock.

you whined like a doe-eyed puppy who had just been reprimanded, nothing but the feral need for an orgasm clouding your mind. 

“don’t make me punish you, princess,” gojo threatened once again, gripping your hip in a way that left a garden of red crescents in the wake of his blunt nails digging into your skin. “be good and i’ll make you cum all over my cock, darlin’. i‘ll even fill that sweet pussy with m’cum, yeah? you want that? does daddy’s pretty girl want her creamy little cunt bred?”

“mhm!” you nodded, “want to milk daddy’s cock ‘nd make a big mess f’him!”

gojo smiled; there was that attitude that he adored. his cute fucktoy, so ready to make him feel good, so ready to take what he wanted to give her. “that’s my girl,” he muttered, releasing his hold on you. 

he picked up one of your legs to better his access to your drooling cunt, realigning himself to ease his thick cock into your gooey walls. the pace that he set remained slow to begin with, yet each thrust wasn’t complete until gojo's whispy white happy trail grazed over your clit. he fucked you slowly and deeply, revelling in each filthy noise that fell from your lips. 

the atmosphere seemed loving, peaceful even. however, the buzzing of your phone on your bedside table proceeded to break the eternal bliss that the pair of you had created. initially, you both would have ignored it, letting it ring through without paying the device a second thought. however, the notifications persisted. gojo reached over to pick up your phone, his cock remaining nestled deep within you. 

as soon as he saw what was on the screen, you noticed the man’s caring demeanor be replaced by one of rage, despite his best attempts to mask his anger.

“who the fuck is this?” he spat, turning the phone so that you could read the messages for yourself. 

after blinking thrice, your eyes adjusted to the brightness of the screen, slightly slipping out of your cockdrunk state for a brief moment. multiple missed calls from an unknown number shone against the lock screen picture of you and gojo out on a date, along with a few texts that read: 

'baby, i miss you. please answer me.'

'i know i fucked up. just one more chance, i swear i’ll be better. '

'don’t block me again, please. i’m begging you.'

your heart dropped as soon as you realized who they were from, telling gojo “‘s my ex,” in a sheepish tone. “just ignore him, i’ll block it again later. . .”

“he still hasn’t left you alone?”

sure, you’d told gojo that he kept trying to contact you, even going as far as to purchase burner phones with the sole intentions of reaching out to you, begging you to take him back.

“it’s been three months, princess. maybe we need to look at getting a re-”

gojo was cut off by an incoming call, and before you could plead with him to simply decline and ignore it, he’d accepted it. 

“baby! i knew you’d come around eventually!” your ex's voice rang through the speakers, not having noticed that he was instead staring at your new boyfriend. though as soon as he did, his voice grew colder within a split second, sounding as though it came from a completely different man. “who the fuck are you? where is she?”

smugness corrupted gojo's angelic features, followed by a sly “do you really want to know?”

with a quick tap, the camera flipped, giving your ex the perfect view of your exposed body underneath him. 

“toru-!” you exclaimed, though were cut off by him continuing to thrust into your messy cunt, letting your ex watch as you writhed. 

“princess, what did i say? you know what to call me.” he threatened, fucking you as if there wasn’t anybody on the other end of the line. “the way you’re sucking me in makes me think my slutty girl likes being put on display, hmm? ‘s my little whore like being watched? answer me.”

“n-no!” you cried, despite wrapping your legs tighter around gojo's waist. the pace at which he set reduced you to nothing short of needy, and knowing that somebody (especially especially that asshole of an ex) was watching you get screwed to the point of incoherence only intensified those feelings. “jus’ feels good, daddy! don’ stop, please!” 

“pretty girl, don’t lie. you like this, right? like showing your pathetic ex how well daddy’s stuffing your tight cunt?”

gojo's deft thumb found your clit, tracing taut circles around the puffy nub as encouragement. he wouldn’t have hesitated to stop if you had showed any signs of discomfort, but by the way your poor pussy fluttered around him told him that your orgasm was already on the horizon. 

glittery tears pricked at your lashes; whether they were from embarrassment or pure pleasure you weren’t sure. “like it s‘much,” you slurred, “g’na cum, can i please cum? ‘m so close,”

“aww, what a cute thing you are, don’t you agree?” you could tell that gojo's question was directed towards your ex rather than yourself, his voice dripping in possessiveness.

you couldn’t hear what was said on the other end of the phone, for the lewd noises of gojo slamming his hips against your own were the primary sound that you noticed.

“c’mon, princess,” he urged, “show him how well you cum for me,”

gojo's pace continued, him bringing your phone down to capture the perfect shot of your sloppy cunt as you whined. with a few sporadic thrusts and circles of your clit, you came with a shout of his name. he remained on call as he released inside of you, ensuring that your ex could see how much of a mess he made of your pretty pussy whilst he continued to fuck you through your own high. 

before he could make a comment, gojo hung up the call, throwing your phone somewhere on the bed. you were too delirious to care, whining as he pulled out of you. 

“i don’t think he’ll bother you again,” gojo mused as he brought himself to lay next to you for a brief moment. you curled into his shoulder, snuggling against his bare chest as he placed a soft kiss to your forehead. “forget about him, you have me now.”

[heretherebedork]

Y'all, we're gonna put a pin in this moment because my Mew is the Master Manipulator idea just got not just confirmed but also backed by fact because this is not as simple as it looks.

That is the fakest surprise ever. But Boston doesn't pick up on it. Mew knows exactly what he's doing and what his friend is going to say because he's been thinking about this the entire time. He is manipulating Top, he is using him to try to shape him into the person he actually wants to date.

I just need to comment on the disdain dripping from Boston in this moment. He is just... he is absolutely done with this and I love him for that but he is also definitely missing how much Mew absolutely had this all figured out. Boston is so caught up in his disdain for Top's choices regarding Mew that he isn't seeing that Mew already had an idea about this.

I stand by my belief that Mew had figured this out long before Top even asked him out. And I think the laser tag conversation points to that being a DEFINITE yes. But, again, none of his friends see this because none of them think of Mew as knowing what he's doing romantically or sexually because he's a virgin and he was single.

Again, my prayers for a virgin devil. For the man who can use his sexuality without actually fucking anyone just because it never happens damnit. I want Mew to tease Top to within an inch of his life and give him nothing in return because he knows exactly what he's doing but is content to not actually do it.

I mean, Mew, what do you think?

He's not wrong.

But I also don't believe this. I really, really don't. Or at least not in the way he means it. I believe this in a very different sense that I am struggling to articulate but has to do with Mew using jealousy as part of his strength and flirting plan.

Mew uses his sexuality just as much as Boston and Top do. He just uses it differently.

Anyway.

Mew is manipulating Top and he's doing it in a way that the people around him don't recognize because what they look for is more straightforward, the simpler matters of fucking around and finding out. While Mew is out here planning and thinking and considering all his choices and making the best ones he think fit his goal.

[dungeonbent]

more than you can chew

"So you want us to take you to the bottom of the dungeon..." Laios muses, nursing the overly sweetened ale that you've just bought a round of.

At first, your impression of the man had been somewhat less than stellar. The easy-going air he has about him, coupled with the enthusiastic way he asked about your home in the western capitol and his overly friendly demeanor, made you slightly wary. But now that business talk has started, he seems to be giving it serious thought.

Laios asks, "Could I maybe get a timeframe on that?"

You say, "I was hoping to enter within the month." You don't have much more time than that. Your name is Kanaya Maryam, and you think things might just work out.

Then Laios Touden says, "Yeah, uh. I think we'll have to turn you down on this one?"

He smiles apologetically, as if he hasn't just dashed your heart straight onto the rocks. You stare at him in shock, letting the ambient noise of the tavern and its festival-going patronage fill the silence between you as you struggle to grasp onto what could have possibly gone wrong.

You start to say, "If it's about the money, I can always-"

"Ah- it's really not about the money, I promise!" Laios says, holding his hands up. "It's just... okay, how do I put this..."

You allow some time for the tallman to articulate his response, hands tightening around your own mug. You don't even like to drink. But within the Festival of Lost Hearts, there seems to be some invisible decree that states all of those who so much as step out into the sun ought to have some syrupy alcoholic bullshit liable to destroy more relationships than just that of the body and its liver.

Laios doesn't get to formulate his full response, because his companion takes a pause from downing some of that alcoholic bullshit to cut in with a dry, "Yeah, what you're describing just isn't logistically reasonable."

"How so?" You ask, peeved. You think you've laid out the relevant points quite succinctly, actually. You even provided flow charts! No one can deny you when you have pictures! You are sure there is a law somewhere that says this.

The half-foot- Chilchuck, you think- leans forward, looking entirely unimpressed. "You want us to take you to the bottom of the dungeon on, and I quote, a 'research mission-slash-treasure hunt-slash-general dungeon things', trip. Do you have any idea how vague that all is?"

"That's what this diagram is for," You say, starting to rifle through your papers, "I really have it all well divvied out-"

"And you're basing this off a book?" Chilchuck presses, leaning up to plant an elbow on the table and stare you down. "What makes you think it's even accurate, exactly?"

"I'll have you know that it's written by a very reputable source," You say, trying to keep your hackles from rising. "You can check with all the scholars- R.L. Theras really did disappear in Skaia dungeon--"

"Yeah," Chilchuck interrupts, "and some guy took the real story of some missing adventurers and decided to make a quick buck."

You scoff. Theras's writing style is far too lyrical to be merely any charlatan off the street. "To say such a thing sounds to me like a lack of experience. Perhaps you should live a few more years before making that assertion?"

Chilchuck scowls, the ale sloshing in his skein as he gestures with it, "I am plenty fucking experienced-!"

"Whoa, whoa, hey," Laios cuts in, putting a large hand on Chilchuck's narrow shoulder. Chilchuck turns a glare towards him as he says, "Chilchuck here's one of the best lockpicks you're gonna get. He's more than experienced." That seems to mollify the smaller man somewhat, though not for long, as Laios continues, "That being said, assuming that the book is real-"

"- are you trying to get scammed again?" Chilchuck hisses, but you elect to ignore him since you... suppose it might make sense why this would seem like a scam, to someone who thought R. L. Theras's work to be fiction.

Laios glances at Chilchuck and Chilchuck appears to back down, sinking back into his seat with a grumble. Laios continues, "Assuming that the book is real, you're not giving us much time to prepare, and no clear goal to actually prepare for. It's like... just asking us to bring a bunch of rations down and survive, and nothing else."

"Is that a bad thing?" You ask.

Laios and Chilchuck both look at each other. You do not appreciate whatever secret message they appear to be communicating to each other with their eyes. You wish you had any kind of mental magic to take a peek into what it could be. Or any magic at all.

"Say, Kanaya," Laios says, "have you ever actually... been to a dungeon?"

"Not before yesterday." You say honestly, "But I've been reading about them."

"Okay, so. The big thing about making a trip into a dungeon successful is having a clear plan on how long you're in the dungeon, and how you're going to get out. How long did it take R. L. to get to the bottom?"

Is this a pop quiz now? Somewhat confused, you answer, "Two months."

"And their only goal was to reach the bottom of the dungeon," Laios says, "No layovers for extra research and no extra treasure hunting. So how long do you think it'll take to reach the bottom if you have all that other stuff to do on top of it?"

You start to deflate. "... Longer."

"And getting back?"

"Does your sister not have a teleportation spell...?"

"If she can't use it for whatever reason, I mean."

You feel like sinking into the floor. "Even longer."

"There you go," Chilchuck says, raising his glass. "What you're asking for assumes that nothing's going to happen and that nothing will go wrong. In the dungeon where everything goes wrong constantly. That's a death wish."

You're starting to feel rather foolish, and rather desperate. You know you haven't been entirely forthcoming about the true nature of your desired trip into the dungeon, but even still...

"What if," You ask, despite yourself, "it was to... save someone?"

This catches Laios's attention. He asks, gently, "Save who...?"

"I don't know." And that's the truth.

Chilchuck heaves a sigh and says, "Well, that'd need even more planning- unless you know the exact place their corpse is- and who the corpse even is- you could be canvasing those floors for weeks..."

"What if they're alive?" You ask.

Chilchuck clicks his tongue. "Yeah. That's... kind of doubtful." He pauses, then sets his mug aside. "Sorry. We really wouldn't be able to help you with that."

You all lapse back into silence and you stare at your plans, trying to figure out how you can still salvage this. Porrim gave you six months to find what you've come for in Skaia's dungeon, and you know that if you don't leave in time, the Canaries may well follow. The Touden party are the most qualified party you've spoken to today. If they think this is an impossible task...

"Hey," Laios says, "wanna get something to eat? My treat!"

"Oh, no," You start, "I couldn't possibly-"

"You may as well eat something- it's not like there's anything else to do at a party," Chilchuck says, starting to flag down someone carrying two large trays of bowls, weaving through the throng of unruly patrons.

You have no recourse to deny the men their meager offer of comfort. You're still slightly bitter at having been shut down so soundly, but the stew that's served is warming. It is a dish the locals call 'bukenade', bowl filled with tender pieces of goat meat falling apart under the slightest pressure of a spoon into a savory, fragrant broth which seemed tinged with just the barest hint of sweetness from verjus.

It's only somewhat into the meal, after you start to feel a bit better, when Chilchuck clears his throat and offers, "You talk to Vans yet?"

"Hm?" You hum through a mouthful of food, covering your mouth as you're caught mid-chew like a startled animal.

"For your job." Chilchuck adds.

You swallow and shake your head. Though the name does sound somewhat familiar for some reason... "I don't know who that is."

"So there's this guy," Chilchuck says, and you nod, because you did assume it was some kind of guy. "His name's Karkat Vans. He and his lockpick buddy have a party together. Can't say I see eye to eye with him on everything, but... kid's good at what he does. He gets people to listen to him." Chilchuck leans back, "If he can do that, he might be able to help you out."

There's a glimmer of hope that strikes you when you hear that. You look at Chilchuck and say, "I'll have to do that. Thank you, Chilchuck... sir." Gods, you sound so awkward. You hope he doesn't say anything.

Chilchuck doesn't say anything, but he does roll his eyes a little. "Yeah, yeah. Don't mention it."