#no. I need to go to the root of the problem

[trans-axolotl]

oh having thoughts today about the way that some psych survivors and tbh the disabled community in general distance themselves from the label of “drug seeking patient.” cause it’s like—I think it’s totally okay to be drug seeking, actually, and I wish it was easier to just go up to doctors and ask for the drugs you need and then just get them. I wish that there was easy access to a safe supply of a whole lot of drugs and there’s nothing morally wrong with trying to seek that through the medical system.

and i very much do understand how having that label plastered on your medical record can be incredibly harmful in terms of preventing access to care, I know very deeply how destructive medical records can be on our lives, especially when we’re already marginalized. I know that sometimes we need to fight to have our medical records represent a certain narrative so that we are able to keep accessing the care we need. And I support doing whatever you need to do in the medical system to get the care you need, including lying to doctors, trying to get stuff taken off your medical record, saying things about your drug use to your doctor that isn’t the way you talk about it the rest of the time, cause this shit is impossible to navigate. I’m never going to attack someone for being upset that this shit gets put into their record—I know how destructive and violating it can feel to have the things that professionals say about you dictate all your access to lifesaving care after that.

I guess I’m just saying that regardless of whatever pragmatic steps we need to take when it comes to navigating our own medical records and care, I don’t want us to lose sight of the bigger picture of solidarity with people who use drugs and that we focus our anger on the root of the problem, which is that no one should be denied access to treatment and medication, including controlled substances and Adderall and opiates, regardless of what labels are applied to us, regardless if we’re using drugs for “recreational” or “medical” use (like the two can even be neatly separated in the first place lmfao). And that we keep an eye out for propaganda that encourages us to throw people who use drugs under the bus, that blames us for (artificially created) medication shortages or bullshit DEA policies that create all these restrictions in the first place. the disabled community cannot discard the many people who use drugs, criminalized or otherwise, from our community.

[poetic-vulgarity]

ᎮᎥᏖᎩ ᎮᏗᏒᏖᎩ II- Kim Minjeong x Reader

Word Count: ~7K

Prompt: When Minjeong transferred to an elite school, she didn't expect to catch the attention of Y/N, the golden girl. Then again, she also didn't expect Y/N to be the root of all her misery.

Tags: slow burn; angst; drama; high school! AU; richgirl!Y/N; happy ending (?) Part I, Part 2

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Minjeong was ignoring Y/N.

That much was clear.

It started happening after the night Y/N confessed to her.

There were texts left on read. Calls unanswered. When Y/N called for Minjeong in the school hallways, the short-haired girl just walked faster and disappeared. When Y/N tried talking to Minjeong before or after classes, the other girl put her headphones on and focused on her exercises.

Y/N thought she hadn't ruined anything with her confession.

She thought she and Minjeong could work things out with patience.

"Maybe I thought wrong."

"Are you kidding me?" Aeri frowned, her arm wrapped around Y/N's shoulder as the two walked along the hallways. "From what you've told me, you've been nothing but lovely to her."

"Well, clearly, something went wrong." Y/N shook her head. "She seemed fine when we were at my house. We even went to a convenience store, and I walked her home. I-why would she just start ignoring me?"

Aeri stayed silent, not really knowing how to answer. Her best friend had been the happiest she'd seen her in a while. It didn't make sense that Minjeong would just ignore Y/N for no reason after that.

The only possibility Aeri could think of was that Minjeong had realized dating Y/N wasn't going to work and had decided to break it off.

The problem was that ignoring Y/N instead of talking about it was a pretty poor way to-

Aeri tilted her head, an idea suddenly crossing her mind. "Didn't you say she's friends with Jimin?"

"Yeah, so-" Y/N turned to Aeri, her eyes widening ever so slightly. "You think she told her about my father?"

"I mean," Aeri hesitated, "Jimin did tell Ning that she regretted breaking up with you... and she always goes after what she wants."

Y/N took her time to think her options through.

It was ridiculous.

Jimin was the one who broke up with her. She was the one who let their parents' business get in the way of their relationship. Two years down the drain because Y/N's father was elected as mayor and not Jimin's.

And now she was ruining her relationship with Minjeong?

Y/N shook her head, looking down at her hands, picking at a few loose skins. "Jimin wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't she?" Aeri suddenly halted in her tracks, and Y/N turned to her in confusion.

She followed her gaze and felt her jaw clench in anger.

Walking right towards them were Jimin and her group-Yunjin, Ning, and Minjeong. Y/N felt a little sick to her stomach.

The group moved to walk right past her, but Y/N reached for Minjeong, her hand suddenly trembling.

"Hey." She tried to meet Minjeong's eyes, but the other girl refused.

Minjeong could feel Y/N's grasp on her arm but refused to meet her gaze. Her heart was beating out of control in her chest, a mix of emotions washing over her.

She didn't want to see Y/N.

She didn't want to talk to Y/N or get close to Y/N or get to know Y/N.

In fact, all she wanted was to forget her.

Because if she got close to Y/N, she'd only come to care for her more.

She'd only come to care about a girl who had done nothing but lie to her. A girl whose father had completely ruined her life.

"Can we talk... alone?" Y/N's voice was as calm as ever, but one look at her face told everyone that she wasn't very happy with the situation she found herself in.

"Actually, I need to get to class, sorry," Minjeong mumbled.

Minjeong felt bad about the way Y/N's face fell at her response, but she had a hard time caring about it at the moment.

All she wanted to do was get out of the situation and clear her mind.

Y/N's hand tightened around her arm. "Minjeong, please. I just need a minute."

"Didn't you hear her?" Jimin spoke up, wrapping an arm around Minjeong's shoulder. "She doesn't wanna talk to you."

Y/N clenched her jaw, her eyes darkening as she turned to finally look at Jimin. "What did you tell her?"

"Only the truth," Jimin replied calmly, her eyes never leaving Y/N.

Minjeong just stood there, frozen, as the two stared at each other. She was aware of her friends worriedly glancing at her, unsure of what to do with their situation.

"You had the chance to tell her everything on your own. You didn't, so I did."

"I was going to." Y/N's eyes fell on Minjeong. "Minjeong, I swear-"

Minjeong shook her head. "You had plenty of chances to tell me. You chose not to."

She stared at Y/N for just a little while longer as hurt filled up in her chest. "It's too late now," she finally said simply.

When the bell rang later that day, she pushed the door open and walked into class, ignoring the looks Y/N was giving her.

Their teacher was always late, so students were walking around the room, chatting with each other.

Minjeong settled down in her spot and pulled out her notebook. Her eyes instinctively rolled back when she caught a familiar figure approaching her from the corner of her eye.

"Will you, please, just hear me out?"

Minjeong tensed as Y/N took the seat next to her.

"Minjeong-" Y/N began.

"Don't." Minjeong found her voice again, her eyes glued to her notebook.

The last thing she wanted was to hear Y/N making up excuses, so she steeled herself and refused to look up.

"Look, my father did build your old school, and I knew who you were from the minute you set foot inside this school." Y/N decided she'd be honest and make herself heard. "I was friendly with you because I wanted to make myself feel better for my father's actions. I'm sorry. I promise you that everything I told you when I confessed to you was true. I really do-"

The room seemed to freeze as Y/N's head snapped to the side on impact.

Minjeong's hand stung as it left Y/N's cheek, the sound of the slap resounding through the room, and everything came to a standstill.

Minjeong could feel all the eyes on them, but all she could focus on was the wide-eyed, hurt look on Y/N's face.

Minjeong forced the words out of her throat, her breaths coming up shallow against the weight of the emotions in her chest. "You need to shut up and leave me the fuck alone."

She held Y/N's eyes for a second, taking in her wide-eyed expression. There was hurt in the other girl's eyes, the look nearly making Minjeong feel bad.

The moment didn't last. Once the door opened behind them and they heard the teacher's footsteps approach, Minjeong turned to the front of the room again.

Y/N looked down in embarrassment and shame. She stood up from her seat and wiped away the stream of blood in the corner of her mouth.

The slap had made her accidentally bite herself.

She moved back to her seat, ignoring everyone's eyes on her.

Minjeong tried her best to focus on the teacher and write down as many notes as she could. She had to keep her mind on something, and if writing down notes would help, she'd do it.

At one point during the lesson, she felt a pair of eyes on the back of her head.

It was a familiar feeling, similar to the one she had felt when she walked down school hallway earlier that morning.

Minjeong grit her teeth against the memory, refusing to take another look over her shoulder.

Y/N took the clue immediately.

It took her a slap to understand, but she did. She distanced herself from Minjeong. She didn't look her in the eyes anymore; she didn't try to talk to her or reach out for her.

Their friendship/relationship came to a complete halt...

For a full two days.

"Good afternoon!"

Minjeong's breath hitched at the familiar voice. It was Saturday. Why was she hearing this voice on a Saturday?

The short-haired girl looked up from her phone, and her eyes found Y/N standing there in her family's restaurant.

Minjeong almost dropped her phone in surprise.

She could feel goosebumps trailing down her arms as she stared at Y/N. The girl stood there waiting, an expectant look on her face, as if she expected her to say something.

Minjeong opened her mouth to speak-she wasn't even sure what-but her mother's voice echoed from the kitchen.

"Minjeong, you have a customer."

The girl swallowed nervously. Her phone went back into the pocket of her coat. She straightened her back and moved from her spot, making her way to where Y/N stood by the counter with her hands stuffed into her pockets.

The moment she came to a stop, a heavy silence fell over them.

Minjeong was sure she saw some bruising on Y/N's cheek and on the corner of the girl's lips.

Still, Y/N smiled gently at her and raised an expectant eyebrow, waiting for her to talk.

The short-haired girl's eyes were drawn to the bruising under Y/N's eye and on her lips. Her fingers twitched before she forced them into stillness.

"What are you doing here?" Her words came out harsher than she had intended.

If Y/N was taken aback by her harshness, she didn't show it. "I'm hungry."

Minjeong couldn't help but scoff. "And you decided to come here?"

Y/N stopped, looking around the place.

It was a restaurant, wasn't it?

"Is that okay?"

Minjeong's eyes narrowed, unsure whether Y/N was trying to mess with her head.

"There are other restaurants, you kn-"

A slap was delivered to the back of Minjeong's head. Her mouth fell open, and she turned to find her mother glaring at her. "Minjeong, why are you denying service to such a-"

The older woman turned to look at Y/N, and the latter put her most charming smile on display.

"-pretty customer?"

Minjeong's frown deepened as she watched her mother fall for Y/N's charm.

It was ridiculous.

Her eyes turned back to Y/N, who was looking at her with a hopeful gaze.

Minjeong clenched her jaw against the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her again. "What do you want to eat?"

Another slap. "Let her sit and get accommodated first," her mother hissed, turning to Y/N with a wide smile. "Sit wherever you want, sweetie. Minjeong will be with you shortly."

Y/N bowed her head thankfully, smile still there. "Thank you, Ma'am. It's a pleasure to finally meet Minjeong's mom."

The woman was surprised. "Oh, you two know each other?"

Minjeong opened her mouth to disagree, but Y/N beat her to it. "I'm courting your daughter. I was actually hoping to get your blessing."

She's what-?

Minjeong's face flushed with embarrassment, and all she could do was stare, mouth half-open.

Her mother didn't notice. Her eyes were wide, cheeks tinged pink as she looked at the beautiful girl in front of her.

"Oh, really?" Her mother glanced between them, her expression growing giddy. "Yes, of course, sweetie. Minjeong is a lovely girl-she can just be a little grouchy sometimes."

Minjeong's hands clenched into fists at the look on her mother's face.

Of course, she was completely smitten.

Her mother had always harbored an adoration for the wealthy and powerful, especially when it came to Minjeong's future partner. It was something Minjeong had grown used to, but it never failed to leave a bitter taste in her mouth.

Her mother ushered Y/N toward a booth and then turned back to her. "I knew sending you to that school was a good idea! Why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone?!"

Minjeong resisted the urge to roll her eyes as her mother gripped her arms, giddy beyond reason.

"I'm not seeing anyone. Y/N is an awf-"

Her mother cut her off, nudging her toward the booth. "I like her! Don't leave her waiting, come on!"

Minjeong gritted her teeth but gave in.

Her mom beamed as she walked away, completely oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing in her daughter's chest.

Minjeong reached Y/N's table and forced herself to take a deep breath.

Y/N's eyes followed her every step, watching her closely, completely entranced. She couldn't stop the small smile tugging at her lips.

"What do you want to eat?" Minjeong asked again, gritting her teeth against the urge to throw this girl out of her family's restaurant.

Y/N snapped out of her reverie, eyes widening as she cleared her throat.

This was a restaurant of what, exactly?

"I-uhh-" She looked around, trying to see what the other customers were eating, but she couldn't make anything out. "What-what do you have?"

Minjeong's eye twitched. The menu was right in front of her. Y/N was just too busy staring to notice.

Forcing herself to stay calm, Minjeong pointed at the stupid thing, her jaw clenching as the taller girl leaned in to look.

She could see her mom eyeing them from across the room, not being discreet in the slightest.

Minjeong wanted to be six feet under.

Y/N skimmed through the menu, eyes moving quickly over the selection.

"I think I'll have the dwaeji gukbap."

Minjeong nodded, ready to grab the menu and leave, but Y/N wasn't done.

"Also, the milmyeon, godeungeo-gui, agujjim, and eomuk, please. Oh! And can I get the dongnae pajeon and the guljeon?"

Minjeong rolled her eyes and yanked the menu away before Y/N could order anything else.

"What are you doing?"

Y/N looked confused. "I was... ordering."

Minjeong wanted to slap her. Again.

"What, you couldn't personally shower me in your money anymore, so you came to do that at my family's restaurant? Can't you be a decent person for once in your life and just leave me the fuck alone?"

Y/N just smiled. "Dinner's on me tonight. My parents are in town, and they brought a few friends over."

Minjeong clenched her jaw.

She hated how unbothered Y/N looked, how effortlessly she wormed her way into her life again.

If she had any shame, she'd just go home.

But no. She was there, flashing her money and privilege like always, getting exactly what she wanted.

Minjeong wanted to deny her service-kick her out, ban her from ever stepping foot inside again.

But the amount of food Y/N had just ordered... meant rent was covered for the month.

Minjeong hated her. More and more.

She was about to make that very clear when Y/N suddenly stood up and bowed, looking past her shoulder.

Minjeong turned to see her father approaching with a warm smile.

"Oh, fuck me."

Her father wiped his hands on the black apron tied around his waist as he reached their table. Slowly, almost carefully, he extended his hand for Y/N to shake.

"My wife told me to come meet my daughter's girlfriend."

Minjeong wanted to die.

"Hopefully in the future, sir." Y/N chuckled softly-a sound that tickled Minjeong's brain just right. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

She reached out, clasping his hand with practiced ease, bowing just enough to be respectful.

She just had to be perfect at everything, didn't she?

Minjeong's father was immediately taken in by her manners, her gentle touch.

Minjeong wanted to scream.

She wanted to tell him about the lies.

She wanted to tell him about the secrets hiding behind that polite, practiced smile.

But she couldn't.

The amount of money Y/N was about to spend-the dinner her parents and their friends were about to have-would keep her family afloat for another month.

And Minjeong couldn't take that away from her parents.

It all felt like a cruel game.

Her chest tightened as she watched her father and Y/N exchange a few words. His eyes gleamed with admiration as he looked at Y/N, and Minjeong felt the sudden urge to throw up.

She kept her gaze fixed on the table, doing her best to block out the conversation.

Once her father left-after shooting her an approving nod-Y/N sat back down, looking entirely too satisfied with herself.

"You're a manipulative liar," Minjeong tried again, her voice firmer this time.

Y/N didn't budge. "A manipulative liar who's in love."

Minjeong's jaw clenched at the words.

In love?

The audacity of this girl to even say that.

Her fingers curled into fists.

How could one person be so infuriating?

She turned sharply, stalking back to the counter to put the order into the register-only to catch her mother watching their every move, a pleased smile on her face.

That was it.

As soon as her shift was over, Minjeong was going to off herself.

Meanwhile, Y/N simply watched her go, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Why was it so easy to get under Minjeong's skin?

She dragged out her time at the restaurant as much as she could.

As long as she was there, she was fine.

She got to see Minjeong. She got to talk to Minjeong's lovely parents. She got to not be at home with her parents.

It was perfect.

Unfortunately, Mr. Kim had other plans. He worked as quickly as possible, insisting that Y/N and her parents shouldn't have to wait long for their food.

So, far too soon, Y/N found herself stepping back inside her house, dinner in hand.

"What took you so long?" her father asked from the living room, seated among his colleagues.

"I was quick." She replied shortly, carrying the bags into the kitchen.

Grabbing a plate for herself, she made her way upstairs, wanting nothing to do with the circus unfolding downstairs.

The following days were the same.

Y/N would come, order a ridiculous amount of food, and leave-only to come back again the next day.

Minjeong's parents were absolutely thrilled by her presence.

And Minjeong?

Minjeong hated it.

The anger, the frustration, the sheer distaste burned through her chest every time Y/N walked through that door.

But after two weeks of the same thing, the fight had drained out of her.

She didn't yell. She didn't snap. She didn't even glare anymore.

She merely stood behind the counter, arms crossed, waiting while Y/N placed her order.

"Food will take around thirty minutes to prepare. You can sit while you wait." Minjeong's voice came out flat, her expression unreadable as she turned away.

She walked to the kitchen, relaying the order to her father.

"She here yet?" he asked with a grin.

Minjeong let out a slow, controlled breath, doing everything she could to hold onto what little patience she had left.

"She's here," she muttered through gritted teeth.

Her father's smile widened. "Good! Take care of her for me."

Minjeong's mother perked up from where she was wiping down the counter, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Let me go say hi to her."

Ten minutes later, when Minjeong stepped out of the kitchen, she nearly dropped the tray she was holding.

There, sitting comfortably at one of the booths, was her mother. And across from her, whipping the tables, was Y/N.

Minjeong froze.

Y/N-cleaning?

Her mother sat there like she hadn't just handed off one of her responsibilities to a paying customer, chatting away with a warm smile on her face.

Minjeong's fingers twitched against the tray.

What the hell was going on?

She stormed over, trying not to trip over her own frustration. "What are you doing?"

Y/N looked up, unbothered, a rag in one hand and a spray bottle in the other. "Helping."

Minjeong turned to her mother, expecting an explanation, but the older woman only beamed. "Such a sweet girl," her mom sighed dreamily. "She insisted, Minjeong! Said she wanted to help out since she's always here."

Minjeong clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay calm.

This was ridiculous.

She hated it.

She hated how easily Y/N charmed her parents.

She hated that Y/N was still here-in her space, in her life.

She hated that a small, stupid, buried part of her chest felt warm at the sight of Y/N helping out.

She exhaled sharply, shoving the thought away.

"Go sit down," she snapped, yanking the spray bottle from Y/N's hand.

Y/N grinned. "You're worried about me?"

"I'm worried about my restaurant looking like a joke," Minjeong shot back.

Her mother gasped. "Minjeong! Don't be rude!"

But Y/N just laughed, wiping her hands on her pants. "I'm just waiting for my food," she said casually. "Might as well make myself useful."

Minjeong turned away before her mother could see the glare she was sending Y/N's way.

She had to endure this.

At least until Y/N got bored and finally, finally left her alone.

Easier said than done.

Y/N was persistent.

At school, it had been fine. They didn't have every class together, and Minjeong could simply ignore her when she approached. But now Y/N was at her restaurant, invading her space, and it was getting to be too much.

The frustration built and built, day after day, until it finally snapped. It happened in gym class.

The basketball ball hit Y/N's cheek with a loud smack, and she went down.

Hard.

The gym fell silent.

Minjeong's eyes widened in shock, regret washing over her.

It wasn't a light hit. It was a ball thrown with strength, purpose, and precision.

Y/N didn't even remember hitting the ground-just opening her eyes to see the teacher and several classmates hovering over her.

Fuck.

Minjeong looked around as the commotion grew. The coach knelt beside Y/N, checking on her, while the rest of the class murmured among themselves.

Her gaze met Aeri's and Chaewon's, who just so happened to be in that class as well. Their jaws were slack as they looked between her and their best friend.

Chaewon was never known for having the best temper. So it wasn't a surprise when she stormed over, shoving Minjeong back with enough force to make her stumble.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

Chaewon's voice echoed through the gym, filled with unrestrained fury.

"Stop it, Chae." Aeri tried to intervene, wrapping an arm around Chaewon's waist to keep her from doing something she'd regret. She was angry too-they both were-but getting Chaewon expelled wouldn't help anyone.

Minjeong's head snapped toward them, her mouth opening to respond, but no sound came out.

Her eyes darted back to the group surrounding Y/N. Her stomach churned at the way everyone was looking at her-at the frowns on familiar faces, at the unspoken accusations in their stares.

"Girls, that's enough."

The teacher's voice cut through the tension as he knelt beside Y/N, helping her sit up.

"Chaewon, Aeri, take Y/N to the infirmary. Minjeong, stay behind after class. Everyone else, disperse! Class isn't over for another fifteen minutes!"

Minjeong's heart sank.

She had never gotten detention before.

And now, because she let her emotions take control, she had made a fool of herself in front of everyone.

She stood frozen, watching as Chaewon and Aeri carefully helped Y/N off the ground. Even from a distance, she swore she could see the glares they both sent her.

Detention it was.

Minjeong tried to see the bright side of things.

At least now, Y/N hated her. She would finally leave her alone. She would stop showing up at the resta-

Minjeong blinked.

There she stood, in front of the counter, completely soaked.

There was a storm outside. The restaurant was practically empty.

What the hell was Y/N doing there?

"Hi." The taller girl let out, the corner of her bruised lips tilting into a soft smile.

A loud crash of thunder boomed in the background, and heavy rain pelted against the windows.

But Minjeong wasn't paying attention to the storm. Her focus was solely on Y/N. On the dark purple bruise marring her left cheek-a clear, undeniable reminder of what had happened just a day ago.

And yet, she had the audacity to smile at her.

Minjeong didn't know how to respond. Thankfully, she didn't have to. A loud gasp surged from behind her, and she stiffened as her mother rushed forward.

"What happened to you?" Minjeong tensed as her mother gently cupped Y/N's face in her hands, tilting it up to assess the damage. She expected Y/N to back away, to flinch under her mother's touch. But she didn't. She just stood there, smiling, like a complete fool.

"It's been raining so much these days," Y/N said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "I slipped and fell."

Minjeong's breath caught in her throat.

Did she just lie?

Y/N could have easily exposed her.

She could have ruined her right then and there, could have held it over her head like a trophy.

Minjeong had expected her to lash out, to finally snap and make her life miserable.

But she didn't.

She just stood there, soaking wet, a bruise on her face, and a stupid smile lingering on her lips.

Why?

Minjeong already knew her secret. She knew who Y/N really was and why she had approached her on that first day. She knew how rotten Y/N and her intentions were.

So why?

"You're completely soaked too."

Minjeong's mother turned toward her. "Minjeong, get her a towel and an ice pack, please."

Minjeong froze.

Her mother turned back to Y/N and ushered her toward a table. "You need to take care of yourself! Look at that pretty face of yours! And what if you get sick?"

Y/N chuckled lightly. "I'll be fine, Miss Kim. I was more worried about you, though. How's your leg?"

Minjeong stiffened.

Her mother had injured herself years ago-she had slipped during a storm, just like this one, and broken her leg. Even now, on cold nights, the pain lingered.

But how the hell did Y/N know about that?

Why did she care?

Minjeong's heart fluttered, just for a second. She gulped, pushing away the feeling, and stepped away to grab the towel and ice pack.

Her fingers gripped the fabric tightly as she glanced back at Y/N, who was still sitting, listening intently to her mother.

A nagging thought scratched at the back of Minjeong's mind, urging her to give in to this strange, persistent kindness.

She shoved it away.

"Here," Minjeong muttered, placing the towel beside Y/N and setting the ice pack down on the table.

She turned to leave- a hand wrapped around her wrist.

Minjeong's breath hitched. She looked down, expecting Y/N, but it was her mother.

"Hold the ice up for her, will you? I'm going to get her some soup to warm up."

Minjeong's jaw nearly dropped.

She could not believe what she was hearing.

It was pure karma.

She opened her mouth to protest, but her mother was already walking off toward the kitchen, leaving her alone.

With her.

Minjeong turned back to Y/N, who was still sitting, head tilted slightly, studying her with that same infuriating curiosity.

She sighed and reached for the ice pack.

A soft chuckle stopped her.

Minjeong's gaze flickered up.

Y/N was smiling-lips curled just slightly, dimples barely visible. She pulled the towel from her shoulders, setting it aside.

The sound of rain against the windows filled the silence between them.

"You don't have to do that," Y/N said, voice softer than usual.

Minjeong frowned.

"Just keep me company for a little while, please. I miss talking to you."

Minjeong felt it again. That stupid flutter in her chest.

Y/N had to be faking it. She had to. But the look in her eyes-

It wasn't the same glimmer she gave her friends, the playful twinkle that Minjeong had grown used to seeing.

This was different. It was softer. Gentler.

Minjeong swallowed, pressing the ice pack against Y/N's bruised cheek.

Y/N winced slightly at the cold but didn't move away. Instead, she smiled, shifting slightly to make space beside her in the booth.

Minjeong hesitated. Then, slowly, she sat down. Silence settled between them, but Y/N didn't let it linger."I'm sorry about Chaewon," she said, voice quiet. "She's... protective."

Minjeong tensed. It wasn't like she could disagree.

Chaewon was protective. But she was also right.

Minjeong had hurt her friend.

Her grip tightened slightly on the ice pack as she kept it in place.

"She had every right to be," Minjeong said, her tone cold. "I didn't mean to hit you that hard."

Y/N only smiled, leaning into the touch.

Minjeong's breath caught, her jaw clenched at the closeness.

How could someone she hated be so damn comfortable around her?

Minjeong wanted Y/N to get angry-to yell, to scream.

Not sit there and be friendly.

She clenched her jaw as Y/N smiled, "So you did mean to hit me."

Minjeong couldn't deny it. She stayed silent.

The rain outside filled the quiet that settled between them.

She could hear her mother moving around the kitchen, the clatter of pots and soft humming mixing with the sound of thunder in the distance.

Minjeong wanted to say something-anything. Even an insult would do. But her mind was blank.

The ice pack had started to warm against her fingers. She adjusted it against Y/N's cheek, pressing it gently into place.

"I still don't like you," she huffed, more to fill the silence than anything. "I'm not falling for your lies again."

Y/N exhaled, something unreadable flickering in her eyes.

"I didn't lie about wanting to be your friend. Or liking you," she said softly. "I just... didn't approach you with the right intentions. I'm sorry. My dad-he's not the best person. I barely know him. But I knew that he hurt you. And I wanted to make it better somehow."

Minjeong's throat tightened.

She didn't want to hear that.

She nudged Y/N's shoulder instead, scowling. "Just shut up and keep drying yourself. You're soaking the sofa."

Y/N smiled.

It wasn't much but it was a start and she was patient.

So she kept showing up at the restaurant.

She kept talking to Minjeong at school.

Interaction by interaction.

Brick by brick.

Until, somehow, impossibly-Minjeong let her back in.

Things got better.

So much better, in fact, that on Christmas Eve, Y/N found herself standing in front of Minjeong's house, clutching bags of gifts and food in her hands.

When the door opened, Minjeong just stared.

Her voice caught in her throat, countless thoughts racing through her mind.

"Y/N-what are you doing here?"

Y/N hesitated for only a second before raising the bags slightly, a small, lopsided smile on her face.

"I promised, didn't I?"

Minjeong blinked.

If anyone had told her that Y/N would actually show up, she would've laughed and told them to get their head checked.

She hadn't even expected Y/N to remember. The words had been brushed off as a joke, an empty promise at best.

But she was there.

With food. With gifts.

Minjeong's chest fluttered painfully as she took in the sight of her.

The soft glow of Christmas lights reflected in Y/N's eyes, and the crinkle at the corners of her smile made her stomach twist.

"You're crazy," Minjeong mumbled, before sighing and stepping forward, pulling Y/N into a small hug. "Y/N, you didn't have to."

"It's nothing." Y/N shrugged, stepping inside when Minjeong opened the door wider for her.

And if Minjeong had thought her parents were easily charmed by Y/N, her siblings proved her wrong.

Y/N didn't even have to say anything to win them over.

The moment they saw her step inside, looking like Santa Claus himself with all those gifts, their eyes lit up.

Minjeong watched from the side as her siblings swarmed Y/N with excitement, admiring the gifts all for themselves.

She bit the inside of her cheek to stop a chuckle, but still startled slightly when her mother suddenly gasped.

"YOU CAME!"

Before Y/N could even react, Minjeong's mother had grabbed her arm and dragged her straight to the kitchen. "Come try my kimchi! You like spice, right? I made it extra spicy this year!"

Minjeong couldn't help but soften as she watched her mother pull Y/N into the bustling house, filled with the laughter and chatter of her family.

The sight of her siblings holding their new toys, excitedly showing Y/N their favorite things about the gifts, made her heart swell.

She exhaled, shaking her head as she slowly made her way into the living room.

But even as she sat down, her eyes never left Y/N.

The way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she fit so effortlessly into her world.

It took a while, but eventually, Y/N stepped back into the living room, her eyes searching for one person and one person only.

Y/N gave her a small smile. "Your family is lovely."

Minjeong stood from the couch, reaching for her hand without thinking. "They keep hogging you," she muttered, tugging her gently" "Let's run away."

Y/N laughed but didn't hesitate to hold Minjeong's hand. She smiled, glancing around as the other girl led her to her bedroom. The house was small, but filled with warmth and comfort. Y/N couldn't help but envy it a little.

"Thank you for all the gifts," Minjeong murmured, closing the door behind them. "You really didn't have to."

The silence was a welcome change, but it didn't last long.

Somehow, they ended up lying on Minjeong's small bed, facing each other, when Y/N reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, wrapped box.

"I didn't know what to get you," she admitted, "I'm sorry."

Minjeong let out a soft laugh, her fingers moving to gently take the box from Y/N's hands.

"You didn't have to get me anything, Y/N. But whatever this is-it's perfect."

The gift was small, wrapped a little messily, but Minjeong didn't care.

She was too focused on the way Y/N was watching her.

Nervously, yet eagerly.

She unwrapped the box, tilting her head when she found a guitar pick inside. It was gorgeous-an ivory color with the initials K.M. engraved on each side.

Minjeong ran her thumb across the engraving, feeling the smoothness of it.

She couldn't believe what she was holding.

"The guitar should be arriving tomorrow."

Minjeong's eyes snapped up at Y/N's words, her grip on the pick tightening.

Her brain barely registered what she just heard.

'The guitar should be arriving tomorrow.'

The words repeated in her head, over and over, as she just stared at Y/N, her mouth slightly open.

A million thoughts, emotions, words-nothing could properly form.

Y/N was crazy.

No-this was insane.

There was no way Y/N actually bought her a guitar.

Just the thought of it made her feel lightheaded.

"Do you like it?" Y/N asked hesitantly.

Minjeong was still staring at the guitar pick in her hands, her mouth hanging slightly open.

"I heard you tell a client you were saving up to buy one," Y/N continued, pulling out her phone and sitting up to show Minjeong a few pictures. "It's this one. I talked to a guy, and he said this one is good for beginners."

Minjeong's breath hitched as she looked at the screen.

The guitar was beautiful.

Glossy black, brand new strings, shining under the store lights.

She swallowed thickly, looking up at Y/N again-who was just watching her, waiting.

Patient.

The gift was expensive and gorgeous and thoughtful.

Minjeong's heart swelled, her chest tightening with an emotion she couldn't name.

So she did the only thing she could.

She threw her arms around Y/N's neck, hugging her tightly.

Y/N froze for a moment at the sudden warmth engulfing her-but then she melted. Her arms instinctively wrapped around Minjeong's waist, pulling her close.

Her heart skipped at the unexpected affection, her cheeks burning.

She closed her eyes and smiled, taking in Minjeong's warmth, the way she felt against her-her scent, her presence.

"I'm glad you like it."

Minjeong couldn't stop herself.

Her grip on Y/N tightened as she buried her face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent.

It was warm.

Comforting.

She sighed, her heart pounding as she closed her eyes.

"I love it."

Her voice was soft, muffled against Y/N's embrace.

She slowly pulled away, her face burning as she looked down at her hands.

"I also got you something," she mumbled, "but it feels useless compared to your gift."

Y/N frowned slightly at that.

Minjeong shouldn't compare gifts. That wasn't what this was about.

Before she could say anything, Minjeong stood up and walked toward her closet, pulling out a small box covered in reindeer-patterned wrapping paper.

Y/N's heart quickened at the sight.

She could see the effort Minjeong had put into wrapping it-the way the corners were neatly tucked, the way a tiny ribbon sat perfectly tied on top.

Her eyes flickered up to Minjeong, who was now holding the gift out for her. She reached over and took it carefully, her fingers running across the smooth wrapping.

The box was light and small in her hands. "Can I open it?"

Minjeong nodded.

Y/N smiled softly, taking her time untying the ribbon, making sure not to tear the paper as she lifted the lid off the box.

Inside, there was a layer of tissue paper.

She gently pulled it back and her breath hitched.

A blue jewelry box sat inside.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted it, flipping the lid open.

Inside, nestled against the soft velvet lining, was a golden necklace.

Y/N carefully picked it up, turning it over in her hands-

-and a small chuckle escaped her lips.

Dangling from the chain was a tiny, detailed basketball ball charm.

She swallowed thickly, her throat tight. It was so simple, yet it meant everything.

"You couldn't help yourself, could you?"

Minjeong smiled as she watched Y/N admiring the present.

Her heart squeezed gently as Y/N laughed and carefully lifted the necklace from the jewelry box.

Minjeong knew her gift was nothing compared to what Y/N had gotten for her. But seeing her like this-her face so soft, eyes full of warmth-made her more than happy.

The two stayed in Minjeong's room for as long as they could.

Which wasn't very long-because soon enough, her siblings and parents were calling them downstairs.

Y/N didn't linger much after that.

Christmas was about family, after all. The last thing she wanted to do was overstep.

So, despite Minjeong's mother asking her to stay for the twentieth time, she gently refused, saying she needed to get home before the snow started falling.

Minjeong walked her to the door, feeling a little sad to see her leave but too too shy to ask her to stay.

"Thanks for coming."

Y/N nodded, her chest feeling impossibly full. Minjeong had no idea how much tonight had meant to her.

She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Minjeong's cheek. "Thanks for having me."

Minjeong felt her breath catch in her lungs.

The touch was gentle. Warm.

The spot where Y/N's lips had been tingled, heat rushing to her face.

Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, trying to memorize the feeling-burn it into her mind.

But before she could process it, Y/N was already pulling away.

"Drive safely," Minjeong managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled at her one last time before stepping out into the cold, pulling on her jacket.

Minjeong stayed by the doorway, watching as she got into her car.

And only when the car finally disappeared down the street did she allow herself to breathe again.

Time went on and Christmas break soon ended. Y/N was ecstatic to return to school after the break.

She couldn't wait to see Minjeong again.

As she walked through the hallways with her friends, there was an extra bounce in her step, a lightness in her chest.

They made their way outside for lunch, hoping the sun would warm them up.

"I don't know, I still don't like her."

Y/N paused mid-step at Chaewon's grumble.

She quickly exchanged an exasperated glance with Niki and Aeri before sighing. "Give it a rest, Chaewon."

"Give it a rest?" Chaewon scoffed. "Did you see the way she threw that ball at you, Y/N? That girl is dangerous, I'm telling you! What if she gets angry and throws another ball at you? It's psychotic. You were knocked out!"

Y/N shrugged, thanking Niki as he held the door open for her.

They stepped out into the school's wide garden, where the winter sun was shining brightly.

"She's got a strong personality, so what?" Y/N said easily. "Plus, she didn't mean to hit me that hard. And-" she grinned, holding up the charm hanging from her neck, "-she got me a necklace for Christmas!"

Chaewon snorted at that.

"A strong personality? She sounds like a psycho to me."

They reached an empty bench, settling into the sunlight.

Aeri gently nudged Y/N. "Just ignore her. She's just petty she's single."

Chaewon went on to argue that, but Y/N didn't mind them.

She knew her friend was just being protective-and she was thankful for that.

But at the same time, she was sure of one thing.

"Chae, Minjeong would never do anything to hurt me again. Trust me, she's-"

The words died in Y/N's throat.

Her chest tightened, breath catching as her gaze landed on a new sight.

It felt like the air had been stolen from her lungs.

Minjeong was leaning against a tree-not too far away.

And standing in front of her, with one hand gently placed on her waist and the other tangled in her hair, was Jimin.

Y/N watched, frozen in place, as Jimin tilted her head down and kissed Minjeong.

Minjeong tilted her head up to meet her, their lips pressing softly together.

Y/N could see everything, the way Jimin pulled away gently, the way Minjeong's lips curved slightly in response.

Her heart plummeted into her stomach.

The world around her blurred, sounds faded into nothing-her ears were ringing, her pulse pounding in her head.

She hadn't even realized that she'd stopped breathing.

Her lungs screamed for air but she couldn't breathe in.

For a split second, the urge to step forward burned inside her. To pull them apart. To rip Jimin's hand away from Minjeong.

But time had frozen around her.

And in that moment, Y/N was done.

[multi-fandomdisaster]

Hear me out: A game of Call of Cthulhu, but it takes place in Hatchetfield and the eldritch horrors that you're dealing with are the Lords in Black

[clubsoft]

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⠀ ⠀ SUMMER , LO SIENTO ⠀ ⠀ JEY USO / POC ! F ! READER⠀⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀

SUMMARY ⋆ cupid's arrow arrives in the form of a pink cadillac && takes root . WARNINGS ⋆ mechanic!jey / nods towards sexual acts but none are written out / mentions of blood / puppy love heartbreak / lots of fluff / lots of angst / a man talking abt cars but its jey so its cool / longing / minimal char description but written w woc in mind / age gap ( reader is mid - late 20s , jey is late 30s ) / size difference / 3rd person POV ; no use of Y/N WORD COUNT ⋆ 3 . 2 k NOTES ⋆ i originally wrote this fic abt 6 - 7 years ago w someone entirely different in mind but i love it sm that i went back n edited it to fit jey . it's mostly proofread but i doubt its perfect , there might b a difference in quality as well but i think thats the charm of re writing an old story . anyway !! enjoy !!

ACT . 1

With summer that year came the death of Jey— figuratively, of course. The heat nipped at his flesh and sweat beaded on his forehead as his low cut muscle tank stuck to his back. He spent his hours at his workplace, surrounded by the smell of car grease and rubber, and his free moments at the beach, but he could only watch so many sunsets before his heart ached  for something more.

That day, the sun was burning intensely and stepping out of the air conditioned car garage had quickly become an irritation inducing task. Jimmy, his coworker and twin brother, was away for the week, visiting some friends down in the valley. That left Jey alone in the mechanic shop to tend to however many customers he could before he finally closed for the day.

His last customer— as dramatic as it may be— waited in her 1962 Pepto pink Cadillac. With her feet perched up on the dashboard, eyes transfixed on her phone screen and earbuds tucked in, she didn't notice the man until his knuckle rapped on her window. He watched a gasp form on her lips as she shot up, rolling the window down for him.

"Sorry— I didn't see the line go by," she said slowly, smiling sheepishly. He chuckled politely in response, ever the sweetheart, never one to make a customer feel uncomfortable in his presence.

"All good. What can I do for ya?" Jey fixed his loose top and leaned down, eyes shifting hastily over the sleek leather interior of the car. Impressive.

"I just need to get the battery replaced…" Judging from her hesitation and the way she bit the inside of her cheek after replying, she wasn't quite sure of what she needed. Just as he'd expected, her words were quickly followed by: "I think." Jey grinned that easy grin of his, his cheeks dimpling.

"What are the problems you've been having? Is it just not starting?" Her answer came as a confident nod and he held his hand out for the keys, which she placed in his palm before stepping out of her car. He wiped his dirtied hands over his jeans as he stood straight, glancing at the matching pink heart that hung from the keychain— he assumed it was some sort of obsession, but he himself had never found the shade of Pepto Bismol to be appealing.

The sky was beginning to darken, the lights in the garage shining much brighter than they did in the daytime. His last task of the day was an easy one, but he'd missed the sunset with how long he'd been at it. Older cars were set up differently. They were easier to fix— thankfully— but he found himself being extra careful not to touch the clean exterior with his grease stained fingers. The silence was awkward, but it wouldn't have been if there weren't so many questions swimming in Jey's head.

"This is real nice. S’this your car?," he finally asked, looking up for a moment, catching the girl's eyes. Had she been watching him this entire time? Many customers did, more often than not, so to feel a shiver run down his spine upon realizing she was doing such was… odd. What was so different about— Not all of those customers were so pretty… that was what set her apart. Jey blinked; once, twice, a third time, and then cleared his throat. To answer his question, she shook her head and just when Jey assumed she'd leave her answer at that, she began to speak.

"It's my grandmother’s. She's had it for forty years,” she replied, to which Jey nodded. "It's been broken down for a while, I just thought it would be more serious than a dead battery." This time, he shook his head.

"Sometimes, cars shut down if you don't turn ‘em on for a while. Usually, s’not just a dead battery. You got lucky, really." He watched her nod in understanding and divert her gaze back to her phone. There was something detached about the way she answered his questions, how quick she was to turn her attention away when it would no longer be too rude and how focused her words were, as if she picked each and every one carefully as she spoke. He didn't pry, he didn't feel the need to at that time. Everyone was always disturbed in their own ways, it seemed.

It soon became evident that his encounters with the girl would never end. After their first meeting, he'd forgotten her face within the next twenty to thirty minutes, much to his relief. Pretty faces weren’t good news when it came to him. Their second meeting, two weeks later, was passed off as a coincidence— it's a small world, he thought. After their third time stumbling across one another, he finally found out her name. He remembered her face after that night; glittering eyes and honeyed skin, lush lips and a perfect nose.

Jey could recognize her figure anywhere after that, and if he were to say he didn't miss her fingertips brushing against his hands as he held her hips or the feeling of her nails scraping his nape as she crooned his name, he'd be a lying fiend.

ACT . 2

Jey felt dainty fingers thread through his hair, the light scratching of long nails against his scalp. He breathed out a sigh.

"What are you doin’, baby?" he mumbled. Soft tresses brushed against his shoulders as she leaned down to press her lips to his, moving her body into his lap where his arms encompassed her waist. Her lips planted roses and tulips along his jaw and she buried her nose into the crook of his neck, exhaling gently and sending the butterflies in Jey's stomach to his spine, making him shudder.

"I have to leave," she whispered. She never met his eyes when he tried to look at her; instead, she borrowed her face into his chest, avoiding his gaze at all costs. She feared she'd cry, or say something he didn't want to hear just yet. She feared he wouldn't care— worse, she feared he'd leave her first.

"Hey, look at me." She felt the rumble of his voice in his chest, the tenderness of his fingertips against her chin, guiding her eyes to his own. Jey's hand shifted to cup her cheek, his thumb running gently over her skin. "What's wrong?"

"My dad…” she began, and then trailed off.

“Your dad?” Jey coaxed, gently.

“He doesn't like you and he— fuck— he saw me kiss you that one night when you dropped me off and he doesn't want you near me, because he doesn't like that I'm dating someone like you so I—”

Confusion apparent on his countenance, Jey tilted his head, and repeated, “Someone like me?” He wasn’t sure what that meant, for she avoided the topic of him meeting her family like the plague. He’d always assumed it was to do with things she wasn’t ready to tell him about. Never did he think it was to do with him. A naive way of thinking, when he reflected upon it. Yes, he was older, a good decade and some change separating their years, but she was old enough to know what she wanted. He didn’t have a career that made him six figures a year, nor did he plan on working towards one. The only thing he was good at was fixing cars, and he did that with no complaints. To her family, who’d worked hard to get her a college education, put themselves in debt to ensure her a future, Jey wasn’t an equal. Sure, it hurt to not be seen as enough, yet a single glance at his baby and his hurt faded, washed over by the sheer love in her tearful eyes. 

“Age and job, college degree and— bullshit, it’s all bullshit! You take care of me, you make me happy, s’that not enough?” Her voice was raising, becoming fervid with perplexity. Jey cupped her chin with one warm hand, and watched fondly as the simple touch led her to match his slow, steady breathing, letting his closeness answer for him.

Droplets began to flow freely from her eyes, trembles running down her back. She cried herself tired in his arms, only relaxing under the sensation of his fingers drawing circles into her skin. "I don't want to leave you, but he knows I'm gone and if he finds me with you, he'll send me away.” Her embrace tightened around his torso. “Baby, I don't want to leave you."

"S’okay, sweetness," he mumbled. "We’ll figure somethin’ out."

"I have to get away from him, but where am I going to go? And what about you? What am I going to do without you?" Fresh tears raced down her cheeks, swiped away by Jey's thumbs. "I can't make you leave your life here… not for me.. not even temporarily… and I can't stay with him because he'll send me away to somewhere I might never see you again.” Utterly despondent, she let a sob shake her frame. “I'll lose you either way… I'm flirting with the edge of a cliff." Strong arms squeezed her tighter in reassurance. Jey’s heart was aching, hearing her sound so hopeless taking a much bigger toll than he feared he could handle.

"I won't let you jump… I said I’d never let you go, I meant it." Again and again, those words had left his lips. What a fool he’d been to think this was anything but love. When he mistakenly thought he missed the softness of her thighs and the smoothness of her lips instead of her, when he only held her close to listen to her whimper and groan, to feel her legs quivering around his waist. When he thought he would one day get tired of her voice, her laugh, her touch. Inhaling deeply, he filled his senses with her scent, and those three words slipped away before he even felt them on his tongue.

I love you. I'm never letting you go.

Fear had made his body freeze, the gasp that left her lips and the sigh that followed. The lust and courage drained to be replaced by lovesick whispers and tender touches. The soft dips and curves of her body were stamped into his memory and he refused to make himself forget.

His fingers basked in the softness of her locks as he let his mind wander, hoping to find a fragment of a solution among the growing shadows of anxiety. His lover had gone silent, her soft breathing indicating that she too, was in deep thought. He held her tighter, left kisses along her brow, and closed his eyes.

He could take her somewhere, leave behind what he'd known for years. They'd say he ran away for a girl, that she ruined him. It's what his friends always assumed, that she was in it for something else; rarely did women who looked like her truly love, but his baby was a fallen angel with tears of gold and a kiss like freshly bloomed cherry blossoms. Perfect. Oh, so perfect.

There was bound to be somewhere underneath the palm trees where they were safe.

"Baby," he began, his chest rising with a deep breath. "Let's take a trip."

ACT . 3

Jimmy thought Jey was wasting that golden heart of his on the wrong one; ruining his time on someone who'd run away once he was no longer enough, so the news of Jey's departure, especially as it was announced over the phone, had him shaking with anger. Every attempt made at getting his brother to rethink his decision was hastily dismissed, and though he understood how much joy the girl brought the man who'd been wallowing in his own angst, Jimmy was too careful to let her grow on him.

"You're just worried. She's not like that, she's… perfect."

Really, it wasn't her mistake; Jey was the happiest Jimmy had ever seen him, but that happiness was there years back as well, with Jey's high school sweetheart who hadn't looked back after she stomped his heart into the sidewalk and disappeared— completely vanished into thin air. This happiness wasn't nearly identical to the one from years ago, a seemingly purer form of it, but Jimmy never cared to look too closely at the details; he just wanted to help his twin avoid heartbreak.

"It'll only be for a bit, until she can fix things with her dad."

The repair shop was closed already, a sign hanging from the doorknob claiming they'd be back soon! in bright red letters that bugged Jimmy the longer he looked on. He struck the door with his fist, wincing as the metal shook on its hinges.

"You don't get to tell me who to love."

Jey's voice was so awfully calm when he spoke those words, but Jimmy had heard the sigh that followed— the soft, shaky sigh. Jey was scared, no matter how much he denied it, he was scared, but not of leaving, no. It was something else, something Jimmy couldn't guess.

"We both remember what happened the last time you said that, Jey."

Jey's high school sweetheart was a childhood friend of Jimmy's first. As twins, they shared everything. It was only a matter of time before Jimmy’s first friend became Jey’s first love. As they grew older, distance was inevitable. The boys who once played racing games together on their GameCube as kids dodged death by the skin of their teeth while taking part in a race of their own, one with nasty twists and competitiveness that overshadowed their care for safety. Jey being the winner while Jimmy coughed up blood behind the wheel landed them in a fight so brutal, they spent the weekend in the emergency room. Even after that, Jimmy was always there. He was there when Jey ran away from their dad's place, and he was the one who snuck back into their dad's house when they gathered the stuff he'd left behind. He’d been the one to co-sign on Jey’s small apartment, the one to give him his first real kitchen appliance, the only person in his life who could bring him out of a slump with a trip to the movies and cheap margaritas at their favorite diner. Nine minutes older, Jimmy never failed to be a good older brother… but when he made a mistake, it was a big one. He was the one who’d set Jey up with his first love, the girl who held no remorse after abandoning his other half since birth.

"She left me. She just— she's gone… Jimmy, she said she doesn't love me anymore…"

Heartbreak clung to each and every word that left Jey's mouth that night, his voice trembling, tears spilling down his cheeks, the pain in his eyes so evident, even in the dark. That night was stamped into Jimmy's memory and he wished to forget it for it brought on an ocean of guilt that'd drowned him for the months after the breakup. It took years for Jey to recover, the change in body language when her name was mentioned, the sad glint in his eyes still visible, but not anymore; not since the girl arrived in her pink Cadillac.

"I think I'm in love, and I'm not just sayin’ that. I've never been so mesmerized by someone's presence before. Hell, today, I stared at the lil’ crinkles that appear around her eyes when she smiles the entire time she was here. I know you were scared this would happen but she isn't one’a those girls… she doesn't have any other guys; I told you that before. You know that one girl we met at the bar when we all went? She said my baby was the best person she knew… she can't be lying, right? If she is… S’too late. I think I'm in love."

ACT . 4

Her hands shook in her lap, dainty fingers curling and uncurling, gripping onto any piece of reality she could as neurotic thoughts suffocated her and twisted their claws into her flesh. The girl couldn't stop trembling, the countless deep breaths she took useless. She only found solace in Jey's touch, but even those sensations soon rendered futile. Still, he held her hand and wiped her tears.

Jey was humming some old song, moving about the hotel room as if he was indifferent to his own circumstances, but his restlessness spoke louder than his words. He kissed the crown of her head when he came back from the shower, clad in only sweatpants, and as they lay on the bed, he kept her small hand on his bare chest, where she could feel the subtle vibrations of his heartbeat. He ran his fingers through her hair— soothing her nerves to the best of his ability.

Below her fingertips, his smooth skin was stained with ink. Tatau, he called it. Beyond those grease stained shirts and calloused fingers was a vision of beauty, a symbol of the tenderness her beloved possessed. It's for my uncle, he'd said, he was wonderful, woulda adored you.

She was burrowed into his side, head resting on his outstretched arm and her legs thrown over his. Aside from her soft breathing, she was silent, lost in her own sea of thoughts. He could see them swimming in her orbs like koi fish in ponds, each one holding its own maybe's and what if's. Jey hummed, tugging gently on a lock of hair.

"Tomorrow, we'll do something fun," he whispered. The girl's response was a quick nod; she hadn't heard him, he was sure of it. Instead of snapping her out of her daze, he put his hand over hers and let her wrap her fingers around his pointer and middle digits. To believe such small palms held his entire world. "Baby." He squeezed her hand gently. This time, she hummed in response. "Tomorrow… we'll do something fun."

"Okay."

It would take time to keep her ring of fears from tightening around her chest, to stop her from apologizing for something he'd voluntarily done.

"I love you."

"I love you, too." She shifted to press her lips to his jaw, lingering there for a quick heartbeat before he tilted his head down to mold his lips against hers. Her hand gripped his fingers tighter, and Jey couldn't ignore the rush that went through his body the moment her chest pressed against his. Her heart was beating so fast as his lips slid down to her neck and his teeth grazed her skin. "Jey?"

"Yea, baby?" he murmured against her bare chest, untangling their legs to bring himself up to the pillow.

"I'm sorry." She hid her face in the crook of his neck before she continued, "for making you do this."

"You didn't make me do anything," he spoke into her hair, his chest vibrating with each word he rasped out. "Oh, baby… if you only knew all the things I'd do for you."

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⠀⠀ ⠀ © CLUBSOFT⠀⠀ ⠀

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[sweetcarrotsandroses97]

~ Loud Silence | 1 | JJK

Pairing: Doctor! Jungkook x Assistant! Fem! Reader

Summary: Your life was grey. Just like his thoughts, like his emotions, like his memories. And you ignored it all, the pain, the sadness, the unbearable silence... All because your heart told you to stay when your mind screamed at you to get away from the drowning force of Jungkook's obsession.

Warnings: ANGST, employer x employee, patients in a coma, medical terms, detachment, low self-esteem, diseases, symptoms, death, Jungkook is married, fluff?, yearning, child neglect? (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.6k words

A/N: Chapter 1 is here, darlings! I am so excited for this story and I hope you will like it as well. I'll do my best to keep updates as fast as I can but please be patient with me.

Let me know your thoughts in the comments, darlings! I'd love to hear from you!

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

“Remember you have your fencing practice after your chinese lessons today. They were all moved an hour as Mr. Min had an impromptu. Then you’ll have your piano lessons at five instead of four sharp.”

Your words were met with a boring sigh and an acknowledged hum. Ji-hoon was busy with today's study material you had given him that morning. He sat at his desk, hunched over the textbook while a YouTube tutorial of the math problem he was solving was paused on the large screen of his computer. 

“Thanks, (y/n)”

His reply was dry, monotonous. Your heart clenched but you kept your straight face. Adjusting your posture, you lowered your tablet with Ji-hoon’s updated schedule and looked around his big room. The bed was made to perfection, the books on the large shelves were cleaned and organised and the curtains that often covered the ceiling-tall windows were open and the view of the gardens could be appreciated if only the boy would turn around and admire nature. 

You turned around, ready to leave Ji-hoon to his studies. The sound of your heels on the white polished floors filled your ears. It was a sound that was too loud, or maybe the room was too quiet. Instead of Ji-hoon’s animated storytelling of his day, he sat in silence contemplating his assignments, instead of the big screen in his room playing some sport as background noise, the smart TV was off. You didn’t remember the last time he had even turned it on. 

“(y/n)?”

You stopped. It had been the first time in days, maybe even weeks or perhaps months, since Ji-hoon had called your name with emotion. With the lace of doubt and vulnerability in his words. 

You turned around and watched as he leaned back on his chair but looked at you with doubtful eyes. His hands fidgeted with the pen more than usual and your heart sank at how nervous he looked. 

You tilted your head to the right, a subtle movement that seemed to bring him out of the lake that drowned his thoughts in doubts. Ji-hoon took a deep breath and you waited until he spoke. You didn’t pressure him. You never did. You already knew how much pressure the boy had, the weight he carried on his shoulders was one no fourteen year old child should carry. 

“Did you ask him? What did my father say?”

You blinked. Staring at Ji-hoon with the same monotonous gaze he already got used to when looking into your eyes. 

“You already have everything you need here. Your father doesn’t believe that you going to school would benefit you in any way.”

Ji-hoon turned back to his desk, his eyes downwards. The grip on his pen loosened and it pained you how soft his voice sounded when he spoke again. 

“Of course he doesn’t.”

His mumbled words pierced your heart. You wished there was something you could do to help him. To ease his loneliness that stood rooted in his heart. But that choice was not yours to be made. And so, you tilted your chin up, your grip tightening on the tablet in your hands. 

“Your father knows what is best for you, Ji-hoon.”

But the boy just scoffed at your words. For he was not sure whether to feel sad or disappointed or angry or frustrated. For he felt it all at once. You didn’t linger. Your steps echoed once more on the polished floor as you left the room that was too big for a teenage boy alone. 

Once in the hallway, you leaned back against the closed door. It pained you to see Ji-hoon so helpless when it came to decisions that concerned his life, his experiences, his memories. But it pained you more, that it had not always been like this. 

There had been a time where he had smiled, where he had laughed. 

The household had been happier. And yet, now all it was left of that happiness was the shadow of laughter in the wind. 

You walked down the large hallway, the lights hanging on the walls illuminated your features, your steps were calculated; monotonous. The house was big but silent. Your heart was lonely yet it still yearned. The sunlight streamed through the tall windows and as you turned left to descend down the large staircase, you paused. 

Looking over your shoulder, you looked at the portrait of Ji-hoon and his father, renowned doctor and scientist, Jeon Jungkook. And yet the boy was the spitting image of his mother. With a sigh, you turned away and continued your journey down the stairs. The ground floor was just as silent as Ji-hoon’s room and with quiet professionalism, you walked to your right, going into Jungkook’s study. 

You didn’t look at Jungkook’s piling paperwork on the desk, you didn’t pay attention to the already filled bin by the chair that was mostly empty. You didn’t dare look at the portrait of her. Jungkook’s wife. It was a painting he had commissioned after they had gotten married. A piece of art that now hung over the dry fireplace.

Seo-yun. 

A name that was once a blessing of the household was now a curse. You didn’t look at her portrait. You didn’t have to. That painting that looked like a mosaic was engraved into your heart due to Jungkook’s melancholy when he gazed upon it. 

Instead, you walked to the very back of the room and into the door Ji-hoon was forbidden from ever entering.

The warmth of the empty house, the soft colours of the walls and the faint smell of books vanished when you crossed that door. The lights were white, blinding in their nature. The smell of chloride and antiseptic reached your senses. Your heels announced your presence as you entered Dr. Jeon’s private lab. 

He was aware of you before you uttered a word. Jungkook sat on one of the stools, his posture rigid as he looked into the microscope once more. 

“Sir, the conference this Friday has been cancelled. Doctor Kim called, his flight was delayed and he will not make it so the board decided to postpone the event.”

Jungkook looked up at you, his gaze met yours. Calculating and monotonous. The lab was in pristine condition. A sea of exams and samples were on the table, all labeled accordingly. And yet the whiteboard that hung over one of the walls was filled with loose handwriting. Notes, thoughts, symptoms, hypothesis… Jungkook’s mind was plastered on that board. An organised chaos. The eye of the storm of his subconscious. And the contrast was big. Between his wild mind and blank stare, it almost felt like falling down a rabbit hole of confusion where nothing was clear and nothing was known. 

“Very well. Is there anything else I need to know?”

You straightened, letting your hands fall to your sides holding the tablet with your right hand. His stare was intense, dark compared to his pale skin. It had been some time since he went outside and allowed the sun to kiss his skin. 

“No, sir. Everything’s on schedule.”

He hummed. It was a deep sound that reverberated through your spine and tingled your nerves. Jungkook went back to look down at the microscope with the same indifference he lived his daily life. His hands were firm when he adjusted the lenses, his jaw was tense while he scribbled away notes and observations on a notebook at his right. 

You wanted to speak, to ask him so many things. But you didn’t know how to start. You never knew if it was wise enough to start speaking with him. He was so volatile, so silently unpredictable. Your perfect, rigid posture sagged a bit as you let out an inaudible breath. The lab was quiet, too quiet. Just like Ji-hoon’s room. 

You hated it. 

You hated that silence that strangely calmed your mind as well. 

Jungkook changed the sample he was observing, his movements mechanical. The latex of his white gloves stretched as he flexed his fingers and he spoke without looking at you. 

“If you have something else to say, (y/n), do it and go. I have work to do.”

You swallowed, remembering all the times he had spoken softly to you, all the times he asked if you could assist him in any of his experiments. All the times you had felt seen by him. Jungkook may be your employer, your boss and perhaps you were just his assistant, his secretary and Ji-hoon’s caretaker. But you missed the times when you had been more; or at least when he had made you feel more than that. 

“Ji-hoon asked again, sir. He… keeps insisting on the idea of going to school.”

The doctor let out a deep sigh, almost in annoyance, in exasperation. It hurt to think that he saw his son like that. 

“He asked me to tell you to reconsider it. He is lonely, sir.”

Jungkook let go of his pen, the sound as it hit the notebook was dry and it almost echoed in the silent laboratory. He leaned back slightly, his eyes bored; nonchalant. But it took you a second, a single heartbeat for you to see the vulnerability behind his icy glare. 

“What should I do, (y/n)? Must I throw him into the world carelessly? If I do not make it, Ji-hoon will be the only remaining part of Seo-yun.”

Your gaze softened for right now, he was not the famous and brilliant doctor, he was a man whose heart had been broken by his own passion, by the hands of science. He was a father scared to lose his one and only son.

You took a step forward, intending on consoling him, advising him. But that single step brought him back from the dark pit that were his thoughts, his doubts. His walls rose, his eyes hardened and he straightened once more. And before he pushed you out completely, you spoke again. With that same professional voice, that delicate tone you always used when addressing him. 

“You are a man who would do anything for his family, I have witnessed it more than once. You are taking into account his safety, I’ll just ask you to consider his happiness as well, that’s all.”

Your eyes flickered to the glass wall. The only wall that separated the lab from the confinement area where Seo-yun lay. She was on oxygen, her slender frame as pale as ever. She lay still, unmoving. Barely breathing. Kept alive by the sleep Jungkook drowned her in. 

You didn’t linger. You couldn’t. So you turned away, not once looking back and missing Jungkook’s soft eyes as he watched your retreating form. You left him thinking, and that was something few had ever achieved.

The smell of cooked ricotta lasagna filled the spacious and minimalist kitchen. The warmth of the oven radiated towards you as you washed the used dishes. It didn’t take long for Ji-hoon to paddle into the kitchen, guided by the delicious smell of homemade food. 

“What are you making, (y/n)?”

He asked out of politeness, already knowing the answer. He sat down on one of the stools on the counter and you felt his eyes on your form while you gave your back to him. Putting away the last of the spoons you had used to make dinner. 

“Ricotta lasagna, I know you like it.”

You dried your hands, missing the way Ji-hoon smiled at your words. Though it was a fleeting reaction, it didn’t not reach his eyes. The timer on your phone went off and you silenced it, grabbing the oven mittens, you took the refractory out, the glass warm against your covered hands. 

You placed it on the counter and took the mittens off. The smell was delicious and this time, you didn’t miss Ji-hoon’s delighted smile at the thought of the homemade dinner he liked so much.

“You should call your father.”

Your voice was soft as you spoke while grabbing a knife and cutting the lasagna into neat portions. The golden cheese stretched slightly as you pulled the first piece free, steam curling into the air. 

Ji-hoon pursed his lips, the smile vanishing from his youthful yet handsome features. His shoulders stiffened as he rested his elbows on the counter. His eyes dulled once more and his demeanour returned to that loneliness that crept into his heart like poison ivy. 

“He won’t come.”

The boy murmured. You looked up, frowning gently at the sad acceptance in his voice. 

“Did you ask him?”

“There’s no need. He’s always busy.”

His tone was light, almost indifferent, but you knew better. You placed a plate in front of him, offering a small smile and hoping the food would content him, if only for a short moment. 

“Eat first. I’ll take him a plate, maybe he’ll come next time.”

Ji-hoon didn’t argue. His silence pained you. He simply looked at you with doubt and hope in his eyes at the same time before he picked his fork and began eating his lasagna. Without another word, you plated another portion and covered it with foil to keep it warm. Grabbing a tray, you added a glass of water and arranged the covered dinner before your feet carried you out of the kitchen. 

You passed the big dining area, the table too big by the solitude that ruled over the house. They walked past the grand staircase, the yellow light from the big chandelier illuminating your features. 

You entered Jungkook’s office, once more ignoring the staring and gentle portraits of his broken family as you went directly into the lab. The sweet aroma of freshly made food was left behind when you entered the lab for it faded into the crisp sterility of his workspace. 

Jungkook was exactly where you expected—standing by his microscope, brow furrowed in concentration. He barely acknowledged your entrance.

“Sir, dinner.”

You placed the tray on the nearest table, making sure it wouldn’t get in his way. But the sound of the tray hitting the steel counter made him speak in that cold and monotonous voice of his. 

“I’m not hungry.”

You didn’t move, only blinking at him as you studied him with an unreadable gaze that guarded the secrets of your heart. 

“Ji-hoon was waiting for you.”

Silence. 

For a moment, you thought he’d ignore you entirely. Then, with a sigh, he straightened, removing his gloves before finally looking at you. His gaze flickered toward the tray, lingering for only a second before shifting back to you.

“I have work to do.”

You swallowed the words you wanted to say. The ones about how Ji-hoon had barely touched his food after you left, how the boy’s excitement had dimmed the moment he realized his father wouldn’t come. But Jungkook knew. He had to know.

“I’ll leave it here. At least eat it before it gets cold.”

Jungkook said nothing, he turned his gaze away from you. His dark eyes were fixed once more on the chamber where Seo-yun slept. His jaw clenched, his thoughts were a myriad of emotions he hadn’t been able to decipher since that day when his life turned dark and his hopes died like embers. 

But even in the silence, you noticed. You saw his pain, his obsession, his dedication, his melancholy. You saw it all. Even when the house, when his work, when your heart drowned in this loud silence that cursed your existence.  

And so, you left. Leaving Jungkook alone with his thoughts. Alone with his doubts and guilt. He noticed when the warmth of your precedence left his lab, he noticed when he could no longer smell the floral aroma of your perfume. He noticed how your steps faded into the house, away from his and his grey emotions. 

And yet, later that night as you passed by his lab again, you noticed the tray was empty and Jungkook stood in front of the glass that separated him from Seo-yun. Drowning in the loud silence of his thoughts. 

February/01/2025

Current Taglist: @toosweetforyall @jksusawife @ttipa @mageprincess7 @chxiosworld @babyitscoldoutside @user-190811 want to be tagged? Let me know!

[futuremrscameron]

What would your vision of a more mature Outer Banks show look like?

if i could link all my rants or conversations with moony i would but i’m too lazy to look for them all so i’ll give you the bullet points

morally gray pogues. let jj kill to protect his friends, the pogues closer to juvenile delinquents/ a gang that swindle tourons or steal beer from gas stations, harass kooks and tourons for seemingly no reason, the list goes on and on.

keep in the scene where jj delivers shit to rose and she pays him to sleep with her. obviously they wouldn’t show it but it would be a great way to show just what the pogues have to do to survive and really dial up how predatory kooks are not just financially but in every way possible

have one of the pogues betray the others to protect themselves or their family at one point. ties back into morally gray characters and having nuance like maybe the betrayal was to keep themselves out of prison or someone they loved was threatened or maybe it’s out of spite

acknowledge that ward is abusive and a villain. the show treats him like he’s better than luke and that he’s just misguided or just needs to be saved by the love of his children. he talks down to rafe at best, and slaps him around at worst. puts sarah on a pedestal but like most men in her life when she doesn’t match up to that version of her he has in his head lashes out (physically in s2 episode 10). and last but certainly not least he ignores wheezie, the one who primarily needs his parenting and affections. idk if the show wants us to root for his redemption or it’s just the writers favoriting the camerons but they’re squandering a perfectly good villain.

just have the show be about outer banks quit the traveling. i can excuse them going to the bahamas for the gold cause dug the cameron’s are rich white folk of course they’re gonna hide their shit on a island or in a foreign country but outside of that keep the show in obx. like moony said the island itself is a character so that’s where they should be. i thought s4 was gonna fix that when the gentrification plot was revealed but nope! more treasure. the treasure isn’t even the problem cause i loved the gold and cross plotline but el dorado? morocco? please.

explore classism. for a show about the haves and have nots they barely scratch the surface of what separates the kooks from the pogue besides “they have money and they’re cruel” like BOOOO give me more. don’t you wonder why jj is still living with his fuckass dad? why hasn’t cps taken him to the cops arrested his father? bc they know jj has no one else, no money, and would probably rather stay with his dad. john b’s running from cps arc was cool til they dropped it.

explore antiblackness. if the pates and burke have a shit about black people pope kelce and cleo would’ve gotten a lot more to work with. i don’t even think they realize rafe hate crimed pope so i can’t be surprised but goddamn this ties perfectly into the classism at play in obx. classism and antiblackness go hand in hand so it wouldn’t be that hard to have a storyline about the heywards being better off than jj or john b but still getting disrespected for being “poor” or “uppity” (antiblack) and not “knowing their place” or have pope tell the pogue’s that just cause he has a fraction more than them doesn’t mean shit and he has more at risk than any of them. he’ll have kiara talking about the micro aggressions she dealt with during her kook year (looking at rafe and crew). speaking of rafe why the fuck is kelce friends with them. is it a can’t beat ‘em join ‘em mentality or better them (pope) than me or is he genuinely a black white supremacist. WE DON’T KNOW. cleo is from the islands and while there’s no shortage of black people there colorism still exists. she’s a dark skinned girl who lived in the street til recently and had to do whatever it takes to survive gee i wonder who she could relate to. also that old white guy in s4 was being blatantly antiblack and xenophobic to her but they went nowhere with that cause of course

rafe and barry lore. now listen this is not just me fujoshing out, this is about figuring out what the fuck these two have going on. who got rafe into drugs? how did he meet barry? how long has barry been selling to rafe? recently? (no) since he was a teenager? (most likely) cause that creates some gross implications and raised eyebrows at barry, makes him look more predatory than he already is (i mean he’s a drug dealer you gotta prey on weaknesses and what not) why do these two get a long to some extent? rafe gets to crash at barry’s and i won’t say it’s cause barry likes him at most (in s1) he’s amused by him s2 on is another story but i won’t get into all that here. they’re no fezco and rue but they definitely have a bond

while we’re on the topic of rafe please diagnose that mf. “there’s always been something wrong with him.” “he’s sick.” he’s mentally ill, stop dancing around it i beg. i know he’s not canonically anything but the signs point to BPD and the people agree so get to it. also have it genetic on his mom’s side and that’s one of the reasons why ward is so scared to acknowledge it or get him help cause that makes it real and he won’t lose his son like he lost his wife. creates intrigue, nuance, drama, empathy for rafe and ward.

queer characters. they should already be in the show but alas. jj queer, kiara queer, barry queer, sarah queer but doesn’t wanna admit it, rafe queer but homophobic, give me range yk?

call out characters’ misogyny. sarah cameron is obx’s number one victim of misogyny, my sister is scared of getting close to people cause she knows when she opens up and isn’t the person they thought she was they’ll lash out (ie; all the men in her life). john b and topper switch up on sarah when she isn’t the perfect girlfriend, not the cheating, just not the devoted girlfriend that’s on their side 24/7z kiara is victim #2 of course. rafe spews nothing but vile misogynistic language to and about sarah and objectifies kiara. ward is possessive of sarah and wants her under his thumb. pope is cold to kiara after she rejects him and jj is #weird to women. (this is probably the writers not picking up on it, having “better things to worry about”, or trusting the viewers to clock it)

amazing ask by the way thank you for letting me yap about my vision

[cordjefferson]

Hi! Not sure if you still answer questions on here, but I feel lost as a screenwriter right now. In my final year of film school, I’m afraid the “industry” we are about to be let out into no longer exists. I don’t want to go back to journalism, but I also don’t want to fail at screenwriting in vain. I’ll keep going, but just wondering if you’ve ever found yourself in a similar place. Hope you’re well.

A few days after Trump was elected the first time, I called my dad to complain and commiserate. He listened to me worry for a few minutes and then he said, "You know, when I was a young man, it was common to wake up and find out that Medgar Evers had been killed or that Malcolm X had been killed or that Martin Luther King Jr. had been killed, or that another person had been lynched somewhere not too far from where I grew up. It was terrible, but we had to go on living our lives."

It was a helpful reminder that shit's always sucked -- in many ways it used to suck worse. That doesn't mean your fear is unfounded. You have every right to be afraid as all the world's ghouls circle their wagons in an effort to eternalize their wealth and influence, thus making our already intractable problems feel even more intractable. But the great news is that now is the perfect time for you to make your art.

Hard times can make for excellent work. Consider that punk rock and rap blossomed under Reagan. I'm currently in the middle of a novel called The Oppermanns, which follows a trio of German-Jewish brothers in 1933 Berlin dealing with the rise of Nazism. It's a great book on its face, but the whole piece becomes even more interesting when you discover that it was written by a German-Jew in real time as the Nazis rose to power.

Even if what you write isn't taken seriously at first, making art is never a failure. Artists aren't athletes, meaning you don't need to produce your best work before you turn 35 and your knees give out. Creativity is a lifelong pursuit. You'll only get better at it the more you live, learn, and grow. And because the winds of industries and the world are always changing, allowing their vagaries to scare you into inaction would be a death sentence.

I had a very long dry spell in the year 2014. I went to meeting after meeting trying to get into a TV writers' room and was rejected over and over again. After almost nine months of being told no, I finally emailed my manager one night to say that I was going to quit "working" in TV and go back to what was left of my journalism career. He asked me to stick it out for one more month, and two weeks later I got an interview with someone who hired me. Work has fortunately been pretty steady ever since. So, of course, stubborn persistence is also a valuable tool in all of this.

I can't imagine I'm saying anything that you don't already understand somewhere in your heart. You know that you've picked a challenging career. The arts are infamously cutthroat and chancy, and many of your contemporaries are going to quit somewhere along the line. It's a tough road to hoe, and the only thing that makes it at all tolerable is the ability to find value and joy in the making of your thing, whatever that may be. If writing something feels like it's been done in vain because you don't sell it or it doesn't become a hit TV show, I recommend you don't do this work. Only do it if the doing of it is what sustains you, because the doing of it may be what has to sustain you forever.

I'm rooting for you from afar. XO

[amandabe11man]

this old japanese dude is so me:

the court ruled against him despite him literally being right, smfh. I feel you though, hoji takahashi. respect ✊

[dipperscavern]

can i just say i think robb stark is the type to randomly blurt out declarations of love. walk w me here

i think sometimes it just slips out. quiet admissions when you’re alone, your hands working the knots out of his shoulders after long days of fighting.

“oh, i love you. gods, i love you.”

while he drops his head down, overwhelmed with relief as his muscles release their tension by the second.

or when he’s deep in shit war-wise. he’s trapped, has no idea what to do, & is in his head about whether or not he can win this. he feels like he’s drowning, enemies on all sides.

until you’re there. hands gently running through his scalp, bringing memories of how his mother used to comfort him the same way as a child. you’re all soft tones & soothing words, offering solutions to the smaller problems that have been giving him headaches. he nods along as you talk, and he huffs out a breath of laughter. you pause in your speaking — wondering what he could be laughing at.

& he just drops his head down, running his hands along his face muttering-

“dear gods- what would i do without you?”

[punkshitposts]

actually one last thing im making as a separate post: not all punks even ... subscribe to what's the norm for punk ideals and politics and it's actively dangerous to assume they do. skinhead punks exist. nazi punks exist. assuming ever punk has leftist politics is DANGEROUS because it makes it easier for skins and nazi punks to root themselves in the greater scene- because when we start assuming everyone who more or less likes the same music and dresses more or less the same as us has the same politics as us, we get sloppy in identifying who to curb stomp.

johnny ramone was pro-reagan and johnny rotten called trump "the only hope" and bands like skrewdriver exist and play shows. you cannot try to hivemind the entire subculture into one set of politics because it's just not true.

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Black women stop muling for the POCs and white women

[akqrus]

I will genuinely TWEAK at the sight of that bug and cat and I'm NOT afraid to admit that.

[agirlinthegalaxy]

It's been rolling around in my brain the last few days for some reason, but I still hate the family backstory reveals for Sophie and Eliot. I've seen some of the meta for it, but quite frankly, it still makes no sense. If it had been something actually thought of and intentional in the original, I think it could have been so fascinating. I mean, Sophie's willing abandonment of Astrid to contrast with Nate's loss of Sam or Eliot's adoption in contrast with Hardison's and Parker's? Could have been excellent! But they came out of nowhere in Redemption and don't work with these characters.

Sophie was still actively using the fucking alias that she met Astrid under! She met with someone from her past on the show! Like. Quite frankly, that one is unequivocally bullshit that they made up and threw in and pretended could fit with the established canon. (And I'm sorry, but the idea of Sophie abandoning Astrid and never telling Nate about her just... So much of Nate's trauma was rooted in the loss of Sam, and I think that introducing this element after he's gone and unable to respond to it taints Sophie and Nate's relationship in a way bc I'm not exactly sure how Nate would've responded to learning about this but I think that it's something he'd have needed to know. I don't know how to fully express my thoughts on that but yeah.)

As for Eliot, I don't like the adoption aspect literally at all. The way that he would interact with his family and the memory of his family would be different, and I think that it's flat out ridiculous to think that he'd have never mentioned it to the team in the original show, especially when dealing with the kid cases. (I also dislike the biracial adoption as its own element because if Eliot was actually raised by Black parents in the... idk what 80s/90s? That just. doesn't feel congruent with how they write Eliot interacting with PoC, not necessarily in a bad way, but babe, he's written like a white southern man raised in a specific kind of culture that does not jell with that. It also makes Eliot look... really bad that he was apparently raised with the knowledge of how fucked up the military was and his parents' history and made the choices that he did.) Like the show may not have explicitly stated it but the implication of that relationship was vastly fucking different throughout the original show.

Just. These were not backstories that were congruent with their depiction and characters in the original show, and they're also just moves that I don't particularly like or find interesting directions for those characters. There's also something to be said about how it was apparently unacceptable for a woman to not have kids or someone not reconciling with their biological family when that was something that the original show handled a lot better. Out of all the directions to take Sophie and Eliot's stories, that's just not really one that I think was a good idea.

[seventh-district]

.

[sparkspropaganda]

The tags all talking about beverages or crafts like no the only thing to stop me from truly going insane about the world is participating in the necessary violent upheaval that it takes to make the world suck less

[bravevolunteer]

ngl every time i see the "cis" in michael's bio it feels. Wrong. like i see it and i go "i'm probably gonna non conform his gender one of these days"