#oh tiny me. so optimistic. so stupid.

[teaandinanity]

Probably the most teeth-gnashingly infuriating thing about true crime stuff is that you have some people who could not be more clearly repeat offenders who get a slap on the wrist, get out of prison in a couple of years, and do in fact go on to do worse--

And then you have stories about people where you go, 'that seems kinda justified actually' and the story is like 'and they will never be out of prison Ever and were put in solitary for decades because the state says torture's okay when they're doing it.'

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[alleiwentcrazy]

Eddie hates it when people don’t answer his calls. He hates it with passion.

It reminds him of too many things. It reminds him of manhunts and abandoned sheds, and no one on the other side of the line. It reminds him of cold, clammy hands, of hunger, of fear. Breaking bones and eldritch horrors he’d thought existed solely in cheap movies, not in real life, until he was brutally made aware of the fact that when people say everything’s possible, everything is possible.

Every time someone doesn’t answer the phone when he calls, panic starts to boil inside his veins and his brain immediately makes at least a dozen painful scenarios for him to dwell on. He knows that technically, they just don’t know that it’s him. But it doesn’t make him worry any less, so everyone’s learned to respect the rule. They just have to pick up. No matter what. Or he’ll freak out, drop everything he’s doing and come unexpectedly to check if everything’s alright.

There hasn’t been a single situation when things were actually bad—people go get groceries, take solid, deep naps, or they’re simply too lazy to pick up sometimes—but he always does that. Always.

Especially if it’s Steve who doesn’t answer. What if he fell? Or someone mugged him? Or he got into a fight? This brain can’t take any more damage. What if he’s in the hospital now, waiting to be anesthetized before surgery, and no one’s called Eddie yet, because to society they’re just some dudes living together?

There are too many options. Eddie doesn’t like taking chances anymore, so he slaps the “I’ll be back in a few” sign on the door, closes the shop and speeds through the town like he has nothing to lose. (And it’s quite stupid, because he has too many things to lose now—but he’s allowed to freak out once in a while.)

When he gets there and sees Steve pacing and gesturing animatedly in front of the window of their tiny but awfully cluttered kitchen, he finds out exactly what it means to have the whole world on your shoulders. Or, rather, to be finally freed from the pressure it creates.

It’s okay. It’s just a stupid phone call. It wasn’t even important, anyway.

Despite that, he takes his helmet off. Won’t hurt to remind Steve of the rule. And maybe kiss his pretty face a little while he’s here.

He doesn’t even have to enter their apartment to know that Steve’s not alone. First off – if Steve’s pacing and rambling, an anxious trait he’s picked up from Robin, wasn’t a hint enough – it’s loud. Their paper walls can barely hold back a normal conversation, let alone something resemblant of a heated discussion. Honestly, Eddie has no idea how their neighbors can stand them sometimes, with his metal, their late-night conversations and non-conversations alike, with the kids visiting so often. Although Steve is optimistic (they have some lovely neighbors, like sweet Gran Fran, but don’t ever let Eddie express his opinions about that old hag from across the hallway, Miss Hermans), he’s still waiting for that complaint to be filed.

Second, he smells coffee. Steve never makes coffee for just himself.

Eddie opens the door gingerly, remembering how easy it is to completely unhinge them by accident, and is about to scream something about getting home, when none other than Dustin Henderson cuts him off with a shriek.

“—because it’s actually pathetic, that’s why! Get a grip, man, just do it!”

“Oh, it’s so easy for you to say, because you’ve never actually tried—”

“And maybe I never will! If you won’t do it, how can I learn how to do it myself? You know that you guys are the closest thing to father figures!”

“Hey, don’t make it about yourself for once, maybe? Some humility?”

Dustin’s quiet for a second, but Eddie knows he’s not about to admit full defeat. “Yes, sorry,” he chokes out, finally. “But you’ve tried so many times, you should know that it doesn’t get any easier on another try. Just do it, it doesn’t matter how.”

“It does, though! To me, it—it does. It matters,” Steve mumbles back, and Eddie can picture his face in perfect detail. It’s Steve’s small voice, which means he’s worried about something, even though his worry doesn’t make any sense in everyone else’s eyes. He’s unsure: his brows are pinched, lips pursed, stare skittering around the room, never focusing on anything. Dustin knows this face too, because his tone gets softer.

“Okay, then walk me through it.”

“What?”

“Walk me through it. You’ll know what you want, how you want it, when and where, and it’ll be easier when you try it next time.”

“Dustin, I really don’t—I’m not sure it can get easier, ever.”

“Because you’re scared.”

Steve sighs deeply before he responds. “Yes. Because I’m scared.”

“It’s been eight years, Steve. What are you scared of?” Dustin’s voice is gentle, curious. He’s not judging, he genuinely wants to know the reasons, and so does Eddie. He leans against the wall, trying to sneak a peek of the kitchen unsuccessfully, and listens. A while passes before Steve speaks again.

“I think—There are so many things I’m afraid of. But the main one… It’s still rejection. Not being enough. Because it’s not like it’s anything formal, right? It’s only a promise, and if it ends up turned down…”

Chair legs scrape the floor and Eddie can hear two soft slaps – hands on shoulders, probably.

“Steve Harrington. Calm down. You know it’s not going to happen—no, don’t argue. I know it, and this alone should be enough. You are an amazing person. You’re great with people, you’re bright, you’re sweet, caring, you have so many talents. I love you, Steve,” the pause that follows is filled with something so heavy there’s a shift in the air. It has a different smell now. A little salty, a little warm. “And he loves you. More than you can imagine, probably. So just pop the question, Steve. And don’t back out with some stupid excuse like this morning.”

“Pop the question,” Steve says, his voice firm, only a little timid. “Yes, I think—I think I can do that.”

Eddie bounces off the wall and takes quiet, slow steps backwards. He can’t hear anything else, even though the conversation continues. He bites his tongue hard enough to make it bleed a little. A coppery taste floods his mouth as he closes the door.

Oh, it’s just so, so stupid. He would have said yes. Each and every time, he would have said yes.

*

Later that day, when they’re lying in bed together, with the sheets rumpled, their bodies warm and mushy from the nap, with Eddie’s lips on Steve’s and Steve’s hands in Eddie’s hair, Eddie remembers the overheard conversation.

Well, no. That’s a lie. Because he hasn’t stopped thinking about it ever since.

Every single second of what, at first, seemed to be yet another annoying Monday, has been filled with reverie and anticipation. Dustin’s right – Eddie loves Steve. He loves him enough to risk hell for him, enough to argue with anyone who’s in any way mean to him. Enough to take his hand and say “You don’t have to be afraid when I’m with you”, even though Eddie’s the biggest coward in the whole wide world.

Eddie loves him. Loves his goofy smiles and scrunched happy faces, loves his moles and the uneven mustache he grows out sometimes when he’s bored. Eddie loves how gentle Steve is, how thoughtful and kind-hearted he is. How he helps Gran Fran replant her flowers each month with more enthusiasm than Eddie’s ever shown to anyone. How he talks to children, how much respect he has for those undermined by everyone else.

Eddie loves how he’s learned to stand up for himself. He’s proud of Steve, of how much he’s grown, of how he knows how to express what he needs and what he wants now. Eddie’s loved him for ages, maybe even longer than he’s aware of, but every single significant and insignificant change in Steve’s behavior and point of view makes him fall a little bit harder, every time. In any shape, in any form, there’s one constant in Eddie’s life: his love for Steve.

He likes to think that they do that to each other, both of them. That they help each other through inevitable changes, painful regressions and euphoric victories alike. He likes to think that together, they make one, healthy, living being – and apart they’re good, because they’ve grown to be good people thanks to the connections they’ve made overall. He likes this idea of just being good, together and apart. And he loves Steve for giving him the opportunity to be just that.

Eddie wants it to last. Desperately, intensely, madly. He wants it to last and he needs it to keep happening – he knows that, and he knows he has the capacity to do that. To be there, to stay. His hands touch Steve’s thigh, not in the slightest covered by those silly Hawkins Tigers shorts he’s kept, then they touch Steve’s soft, scarred belly, then they touch his chest, where his heart is beating steadily and peacefully, and he keeps kissing him and Steve keeps clingling back to him, and Eddie’s so sure.

He wants this. He wants to experience growing old together, he wants them to get all wrinkly and bald together, he wants the fights over who gets the most comfortable chair in their grandkids’ living room. He wants them to experience the highs and the lows of the family that they already have, and the one they’re going to build someday.

Eddie wants this. He wants Steve. The whole deal; the promised forever. And he doesn’t want to wait another second.

“Steve,” Eddie says, cutting the kiss short so suddenly Steve actually pulls him closer, chasing after the warmth of his lips. “I’m saying yes.”

“Mm. Okay,” he mumbles back, too kiss- and sleep-hazy to catch Eddie’s intention right away. He tries to bump their noses together—which is adorable, really, but Eddie can’t let him hijack and self-sabotage this proposal too.

“No, Steve,” he squeezes Steve’s side until he looks at him properly. “I love you. I’m saying yes.”

In awe, Eddie watches as Steve’s face goes through confusion, true bewilderment, a bit of fear and fleeting exhilaration, to finally settle on disbelief.

“How did you—”

Eddie laughs a little at that. “I called and you didn’t pick up.” Steve makes a little oh sound, already looking like a kicked puppy. “But it’s okay, doesn’t matter, not the point,” Eddie jumps in, anticipating an unnecessary apology. “The point is, I love you, and I’m saying yes.”

Steve stares at him for a long second, his eyes wide and earnest. His fingers slide from Eddie’s hair to finally settle on both of his cheeks, cradling them lovingly. Eddie kinda wants to cry.

“You’ll marry me?” Steve asks, incredulous, his voice only a bit louder than a whisper. The way he accentuates the word “marry” gives yet another layer of meaning to such a simple question. You’ll love me? Forever?

“I’ll marry you,” he replies without hesitation. “You’ll marry me?” You’ll love me? With my flaws?

“I’ll marry you,” Steve says back. Then he grins with his eyes glistening in the bedside light, and squishes Eddie’s cheeks so hard it squeezes the unshed tear right from his eye. “We’ll get married!”

Steve giggles happily, and Eddie laughs with him. There’s so much joy inside him—them, the whole room seems to get bigger. “We will,” he adds through a smile, already peppering his fiancé’s face with kisses.

“Oh gosh, I have to call Robin,” Steve manages through his giggles and Eddie loves him so much. “And Dustin!”

So, so much.

[dyns33]

Snatch

I couldn't find any Mickey O Neil x reader story so I wrote one

And since I like Turkish, the story is from his pov

Most people don't know that I have a sister.

Probably because I don't, nor by blood, nor by adoption. Nothing legal or signed on a stupid piece of paper.

But when people ask me, I tell them that I'm her brother.

Yeah, I don't know her name or her adress. So what ? My sister is special.

We met years ago, during a difficult time for both of us. I helped her, she helped me, we knew after that we would always help each other, and she became my little sister.

It was a surprise when I learned about her and Mickey.

I didn't even know that she knew about him, but my sister always knows eveything. She has her weird ways to always know when I'm in deep shit.

She met Mickey a bit after the first combat, and before Brick Top decided to do a barbecue with his mother.

Never told me about that, or at least not when he was around. Maybe she was afraid I would be mad and try to act like a silly big brother, maybe she just thought it was none of my fucking business back then.

But after the gypsies left, she told me.

I could tell it was hard for her. I think she liked him, even if she didn't use the word. My sister never uses words when it comes to things like that.

"I can't believe he knows my adress." she said while staring at the wall, finishing her beer.

Mickey knows her adress. I don't. Nobody does.

It meant something.

After everything that happened in her life, my sis has problems trusting people, men or women. Tommy and I are exceptions, but even with us, she has some limits.

God knows why, the fucking pikey was special. More than me. I'm not jealous. But he broke her heart for sure, and so of course I'm not pleased.

I could see her tiny fragile heart when she told me about their night, and when she came at the arcades months later.

"They're back."

She didn't need to say who. I understood.

What I didn't understand right away was this thing in her eyes. In her voice.

My sister never cries. Not in front of me, not in front of anyone, and certainly not for an asshole. But she was about to, because of him.

"He won't come here." I promised.

She told me I was a stupid optimist, and that I didn't know him. He was inpredictable according to her. So she avoided the arcades, and my place, and the city, and I didn't like that.

Of course I was ever more pissed when she was right and Mickey showed his face, saying that he needed money, he wanted to fight, and he was ready to do it for us since we were good fellas.

He seemed surprised when I refused, and a bit upset. That was easy money, for him and for me.

He was not wrong about that, this fucker was one of the best boxers I ever met, and I could become rich by working with him. But first of all, I'm already rich, thanks to Tommy and his weird dog which offered us a big diamond.

And most important, he hurt my sister.

He seemed even more surprised when I tell him that.

Oh, he understood better why I refused his deal, he did.

He's surprised, because he didn't think that I knew about him and my sister.

I can tell that he's an only kid, like me. I guess the girls at the camp are not talking to their father or brothers, keeping their things to themselves, so nobody would bother them with rules and comments.

I had no idea how to react the first time my sister opened my door, went on my sofa and started to talk about things I didn't care about, people I never fucking heard of, problems that were not mine, but something in my chest told me that it was important. That it meant something.

So I listened, like a good brother.

I asked her once if I was a good brother. She said I was not so bad. Maybe she has siblings, real siblings, I really don't know, but she said I was not so bad, meaning I'm pretty good.

And a good brother doesn't work with the fucker who hurt his sister, even for easy money.

Mickey seemed to accept that and left.

I told my sister, hoping she would come back, but she told me again that I was an idiot.

As always, she was right.

The gipsie returned days after, completely drunk. Tommy was alone when he arrived and had no fucking idea what to do with him, so he let him sit in a corner, offering a coffee and he waited for me.

I had no fucking idea what to do with him either.

The big brother wanted to punch him, but the selfish coward wanted to stay in one piece. If I started a fight with him, I had no chance to win, even if he was wasted.

So I just asked him what he wanted.

"There." he said with his awful giberish that I can't understand half the time. "It's far ya sistah."

He gave me letters. A ton of letters, with a name and an adress on them.

My sister's.

She told me about the adress, not about giving her name. I felt bad for reading it, because if she wanted me to know, she would have told me.

All the letters were sent from a different part of the country, and they all came back to Mickey, because according to the postmen, the person had moved.

I had an adress, and it was already useless. She had moved, right after Mickey left.

He told me to read. I didn't want a drunk pikey to be mad at me, so I did.

Mickey was writing better than he was talking. Maybe he was talking better when he was with her. I never asked her if she could understand everything he was saying, but she seemed to.

In all the letters, he was saying more or less the same things, that he was sorry, that he missed her, that he wanted to come back one day.

They didn't just spent a night. They talked about his ma. He liked having someone outside of the camp to talk about her, and about everything else. She talked to him too, about things that I knew, and things I never heard of.

"Sh's mad at me. Got that. But I miss her, ya'know ? Don't care bout maney n baxes. Here far her. Sh's was nace. Her smile, man… Like the sun, n the sky n all that. Can ya tell her ?"

I didn't want to tell her. I wanted him to leave for good, and my sister to come back and be happy again.

But in his eyes I saw what I saw in her eyes when the fucker was back in town. And he was not back to find a job, he was back because he wanted to see her.

Tommy said that it was cute. I told him to fuck off, and I tried to think. Then I decided that I was not good at thinking, and I gave the letters to my sister.

We met in a pub, and she stared at the papers, at her name, for long minutes, before looking at me.

"You read them ?"

"He asked me to. We don't need to talk about that. You don't even have to read this shit, or see him again."

"You could work with him again if I decided to forgive him."

"I don't fucking care, it's not about him or me."

She stared at me again, before taking the letters, going to another table to read them alone. I have no idea how many time it took her, because she didn't move when she was done, and I approached her like an idiot, not knowing if I could sit with her.

The thing in her eyes was back. I didn't like that. But she seemed less sad.

"What should I do, Turkish ?"

"You will do what you want, as always."

"You really can't work with him anymore if I don't forgive him."

"I got that part. I won't be mad."

"And would you be mad… If I decided to forgive him ?"

I hesitated. Maybe a bit, yeah, because this fucker was an ass who almost got us killed, but he was not a bad lad at the end, and he truly seemed to care about her, so I told my sister that it was not important.

"You will do what you want, even if I'm mad."

"Quite true." she said with a huge smile, and I saw what Mickey meant with the sun and all that. She's a true beauty, my sister.

A real menace too.

She went to the camp behind my back, with Tommy. He had no idea what she wanted to do, but when she asked him to drive her, he did, because he may not be her brother, Tommy is acting a lot like one with her. He has two little sis, it's easier for him.

The gipsies all stared at them, mostly at her, as if they were shocked but glad to see her, then they stared at Mickey when he went out of his caravan.

He stared at her, she stared at him, they all stared at each other.

According to Tommy, it was impossible to tell if you should laugh or cry in this tense situation.

Then my sister made the first move, because she always makes the first move.

"You can work for my brother." she said, giving a card with a number to the pikey.

"Thanks lave, 'lready have his phane."

"It's not his."

Everything changed immediately, and Mickey looked at the number as if it was the holy graal, then at my sister as if she was fucking Jesus, his eyes full of light and a big stupid smile appearing on his face.

My sister tried to keep a very serious face, but someone who knew her well could tell that hiding the same stupid expression.

When they were in the car, Tommy told her that it was cute. She told him to fuck off.

He was about to start when her door opened, and then Mickey was in the car too, his hands on her face, and his lips on her lips, and he kissed her during torturous long minutes for poor Tommy who didn't move, until it was necessary to breath for the three of them.

The fucker had an even more stupid smile on his face after that, like he was in heaven.

"Call ya t'night !" he said.

"You better !"

While going back home, Tommy didn't say anything, looking at the road. My sister told him to fuck off.

After that, if people ask me, I tell them that I have a sister and a brother in law. No idea where they live, and what they're doing most of the time, but at least once per week they're coming to my place to sit on my sofa and talk.

I have no fucking idea what he's saying, and I have no fucking idea what she is talking about, but I'm listening, and I see that Mickey is listening with as much interest as me, because he too knows that it means something, and so I think that it's not so bad.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - 2023 Begins!

Jan 20232 Wk 1

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. Organized by which ones (in each category) I’m enjoying most.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Never Let Me Go (Tues YT) 4 of 12 - I keep saying this, but I can’t get over how delighted I am to have Perth back on my screen, and under the GMMTV umbrella. He is a stellar actor. I like that the first kiss of this show wasn’t btw the leads. Felt more realistic to high school. Big drama next week!

My School President (Fri YT) 5 of 10 - I missed these two so much last week. But also there was A MUSICAL INCIDENT and it caused a bit of a rant from yours truly. 

Between Us (Sun iQIYI) 9 of 12 - no ep this week, resumes tomorrow WATCH ALONG HERE.

609 Bedtime Story (Fri WeTV) 7 of 11 - Game remains my spirit animal (pushy fucker), and the plot of the main couple is interesting even if I don’t like the cheating component. 

Cutie Pie 2 You (special) 1 of 4 - Oh it’s a full on special. Very very pretty and, is possible, more sappy and full of manufactured angst. Nuea protecting Hia’s interests was sweet. Lots of making out. So... more of the same, basically. What year are we in now, anyway?

I Will Knock You (Fri Gaga) 8 of 12 - (note from my Thai language spy rgr ep 5: the writing on the stone tablets was their names + 2 family members) And now we are suddenly firmly in BL territory and baby Dom is just a baby Seme. No bisexual identity crisis needed... just diving into cheese fest. 

Remember Me (Sun Gaga) 13 of 14 - I would have kept JaFirst apart for longer, quite frankly. I mean otherwise why bother split them up in the first place? Please just end this show already. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

The New Employee (Korea Weds Viki) 3 of 8 - I love them so much, and they are so cute, and this is not open to discussion. Viva la age gap! 

The Director Who Buys Me Dinner (Korea Weds iQIYI) 7-8 of 10 - There is a lot implied about the leads history together, but it was still nice to get backstory plus GAT KISSES. I love it when they flip the dynamic and give the uke agency. I’m really enjoying this show now, I’m even invested in the love triangle.

HIStory 5: Love in the Future (Taiwan Weds Viki) 2 of 10 - Side couple ascension: Daddy Long Legs trope, it’s been a while since I have seen this in ANY romance drama. I’m not really into the main couple, at least not yet (and I totally missed that they hadn’t met each other in person yet), but I really love the side dishes. It’s like H4 all over again only with less dub con.

Candy Color Paradox AKA Ameiro Paradox (Japan Fri Gaga) 4 of 8 - nothing this week. 

It’s Airing But I’m Not Watching It

Love Bill (Vietnam Sat YT) - Bah Vinh is back but I’m too distracted. Also there’s a lot of fund raising stuff going on with them. I can wait.

The Star Always Follow You (Vietnam YT) - same Team RL peeps we have seen before (Sunshine, Stupid)

Moonlight Chicken GMMTV’s Midnight series (Weds YT) 1 of 8 eventually - first segment has begun bit it’s not the EarthMix messy gays. Sorry all, I’m so not interested in messy hets, so I’m waiting until they grace my screen.

Questions!!! 

Should I watch The Warp Effect? Tublr seems excited about it and BL bits look good? Will they end happy? Thoughts anyone? 

Till the World Ends (Thai YT) finished at 10 eps, the heat looked good but I don’t know about the ending with that kind of title, so did anyone risk it and want to tell me what they thought? I haven’t seen much chatter on my feed so I am not optimistic. 

In Case You Missed It

2022′s The Usual Night (Twitter account) from Japan is a 10-ep fake documentary series starring the members of Jpop group the Fantastics. It flew under everyone’s radars but apparently has a BL subplot featuring Yagi Yusei (My Beautiful Man) and Seguchi Leiya. This officially means they beat OnlyOneOf to the punch as the first inter-group BL pairing. Keito Kimura (Onoe from Candy Color Paradox) is also a member of Fantastics and in the show. Source reddit. No word on official international release. Japan is like that. 

OnlyOneOf’s Nine dropped the last (?) in their BL Kpop series, 'beyOnd' (be #6) 

I posted all my 2022 wraps, top picks, industry stats, etc.. 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Jan 19: Individual Circumstances 8 eps - A reunion romance between a movie director who was once promising and a writer who disappeared due to past wounds. Stars JunQ (main rapper of 2nd gen group MYNAME) and Han Jung Wan (Mr International Korea winner).

2023 forthcoming BL master post is in the works... wait for it... I had to finish all the 2022 wrap ups first. Also waiting for the last of the studio announcements.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Never Let Me Go

Ah the love triangle. 

The Director Who Buys Me Dinner caught himself a live one. 

(last week)

Current Kpop earworm? You gotta check out VIXX (sub unit) new single. Gonna Be Alright = 2 BL stars in one croon. (Hyuk Color Rush 2 & Leo Happy ending Romance). *props chin on hand and bats eyes winsomely at Ken* So?

[sunny6677]

The Love Potion.

An Eddsworld x Male! Reader.

PROLOGUE: A Horrible Mistake Caused By Stupidity.

TWS: None.

—————

It had been a foggy, rainy night. Drenched sheets of rain had covered the entirety of the English land, buildings covered in tiny droplets, and leafs letting go of the clear water droplets that had so desperately clung to them. On this particular rainy night, a man named Matt had been walking alone, his hair soaked with that of a sad sky's tears. Yet, as ever, he remained with an optimistic smile—his grin told everything there was to know about his personality.

His hair was as orange as a tiger lily, though it had been painted into a dark shade of slight brown due to the wet sheets of rain slamming down onto the rocky streets of the english town he had lived in with his beloved friends. His eyes were a light, clear blue—as blue as the Bora Bora seas. His skin was pale, yet smooth and soft. He wore a teal-green overcoat over his rather tiny yet fit medium-purple hoodie, wearing blue jeans to go along with the rather odd color scheme of his outfit. His clothes were rather tight on him, considering he had been so tall after all. Yet even so, he still managed to wear them.

The man would continue to walk on, letting himself plunge through the sheets of rain that slammed down onto him, and would boast aloud in his booming yet English toned voice; "Man, I can't believe people actually think that movie was real!" (The man had just returned from a movie he had seen in the theater, though he nearly got kicked out six times due to him constantly commentating for seemingly no reason.) He would boast in his optimistic voice, "Obviously there's no one more handsome than me, heheh! And they actually believe that seagulls exist too, heheh!"

This man, while handsome, had also been rather stupid, and blindly confident in himself. He had lacked survival skills, though he had survived plenty of adventures with his friends whom he had lived with for quite a bit. Confidently, he was going to continue walking, until a whispering voice had emitted from the dark shadows of the alleyway he had intended to pass by. "Psst.. pssst..." Matt quickly began to swing his head around at the sudden voice, fear quivering in his face; "What—who goes there?!"

"Matt.. Matt.." The voice had whispered from the deep shadows, sounding closer than ever before. As Matt turned to face the direction the voice had been coming from, the voice would continue to speak, low and raspy in it's tone and words.

Matt would only hold a slightly defensive stance, his fists slightly held upright as he continued to listen in. "Cu—cut that out!" Matt had yelped that, though the owner of the voices hands had only slowly emerged from the darkness, one of the hands holding a barely readable card in its fingers.

"Would you like to know about your cars extended warranty, Matt?" The voice would whisper, sounding uneasy and raspy, talking as if it were some old man from a creepy horror movie. "I—I dont even have one of those!" Matt paused, "Does.. does it have something to do with me though?"

The voice only laughed, mischievous and dark in its tone. "Oh, trust me.. it will have something to do with you, very soon." The voice then chortled and chortled into fits of evil laughter, vile in its tone.

A figure then emerged(presumably the owner of the voice), though it's features and details had been hidden by the mysterious black coat it bore, only its pale face had been visible. Matt then let out an exaggerated gasp, but he then went back to a normal tone; "Wait, but doesn't that not answer my question?"

...

The figure stood still, pausing.

The figure then reached into the darkness from behind it, and pulled out a photo, taping it onto the card, making odd grunting sounds as it did.. whatever it was doing. Finally, it stopped, and stood up once more. "Does.." It panted, "this answer your question?" The photo had been of Matt's very face, taped poorly onto the card.

Matt had then finally let out another exaggerated gasp, clawing his hands onto his face. This had been enough for him to trust the figure blindly. Somehow. Don't question it.

————

The figure had then led Matt into the darkness of the alleyway, mysterious glows from all of the weirdly imported shelves and bags all over the place. Foul black bags had let out a odor of great disgust. Though the figure desperately told Matt not to question this, and seemed intent on shoving him away anytime he even dared to get close to one of them. Matt looked around, going "Ooohh.." and "Ahhh.." every few seconds. So much so, that the figure turned around, and said; "Are.. are you just gonna keep doing that or?.."

"Doing what? Walking?" Matt questioned, his air-headed yet upbeat aura visibly present inside of the area they had been in. The figure only sighed in irritation, and continued to walk ahead; "Yes—yes, are you going to keep walking?" Matt only thought for a moment, before grinning and saying; "Hmm.. nope!" The figure then stopped in its tracks, glancing back at Matt whom had stopped; "Wha—what? Really?"

"Mhm!"

"But—but there's so much stuff to show you here, you can't just stop now!"

"Hmm.. still a no!"

The figure then roughly sighed, and plunged itself into the darkness for one moment, and then emerged back out of it with a brown bag in its hand, a slight pinkish glow emitting from the outer line of the bag. "Here, I have something to show you, Matt. These are some of my finest potions, Matt, pick from whatever one you'd like." Matt's face would turn excited for a moment, as the figure handed him the bag, though he then arched a brow. "Wait, p-ohhhh...shons?"

"Yes, a potion. Have you not heard of it before or something?" The figure inquired, looking puzzled at Matt's possible lack of intelligence. "U—Uh, yes, I know what it means! I know exactly what poshons are, it's German slang!" Matt said, nervously sweating as he took the bag in his hand, and gestured openly with his free hand.

"...first of all, that's not how you pronounce it. Second of all—no its not. Third of all, why are you holding the bag that way?" Matt had only pouted at the figures sentence, holding the bag as if it were a baby, he had even shushed the figure with his finger. "Shhh, the baby's sleeping!" Upon him saying this, the figure seemed to be making an expression of disturbance. "I—" The figure sighed yet again, "okay—give that here."

As the figure took the bag from Matt's arms, Matt's eyes shimmered with sadness, and in a choked voice, he cried—whimpered, "My baby.." As the figure opened the bag for Matt to see what had been inside, it had revealed what was the potions that the figure had kept for themself, but the figure immediately noticed what had changed. All of the potions.. had a picture of Matt taped onto them.

"How.. how the hell did you do this?" The figure asked, slightly alarmed.

"Hey, they needed a bit of polishing up! Besides, who could say no to me and my sense of style?" Matt smirked with a wink, though the figure only let out another frustrated sigh, and pulled out a potion that had bright pink liquid inside, ripping off one of the photos. "Here, just take this—it's a potion for.. that make people like you! Yes. Yes.. that." Matt took the potion with a gasp, and looked down on it with glistening eyes of curiosity, he almost appeared like a puppy dog.

"And this potion—" It had been yet another pink potion that had a picture of Matt ripped off of it by the figure, "—can make you grow luscious hair! Yes.." As the figure kept taking more potions and listing off what they could do, Matt only grinned and boasted in a loud yet energetic voice, "Wow! And they're all the same color! I can't even tell the difference!" The figure only furrowed their brows, and approached Matt, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Alright—just—just don't drink any of them unless it's absolutely necessary, or else the.. the world will blow up! Yes.." The figure tried to say, looking unsure of their words, though Matt's eyes shimmered with worry and concern at what the figure had said. "Oh no! I better hide these then!" He then shoved one of them into his hoodie, "Can't have people taking my possessions from me!"

The figure looked upon Matt with a rather disturbed look, though it only sighed once more. "Listen, just—just listen to me, bad things will happen if you drink them! Bad things!" Those last few words had been said in a rather raspy yet almost ominous voice, though Matt's expression hadn't changed. "Hmm.. I'm okay with that!" Matt's statement had managed the figure sigh yet again, and then, Matt felt himself beginning to be shovedmout by the figures hands.

"Just—get out of here already!" The figure shrieked, irritation present in its raspy yet creepy voice. Matt did not bother to fight back, and only yelled as he plunged back into the brightness; "A—Agh! Canonball!" That shriek had only made the figure groan, though it then proceeded to let out a mischievous giggle, moonlight illuminating it's figure in a lovely yet intimidating light.

"Soon, Y/N, you'll pay for what you've done.. muahahaha! Hahah—" The figure then proceeded to start coughing, hacking mercilessly as it hunched over, bawling up its fist as it held it against its lips. "God.. I need my medication."

————

As moonlight faded into the room that had belonged to Matt, the several frames and photos he had of himself lit up in a pale yet elegant light. He hummed quietly to himself, slowly placing more photos of himself onto the table beside his bed. With a grin, he let out a few simple words, releasing them out of his pastel pink lips; "Ah, beautiful.." The photos had all collectively said st the same time, "Oh, stop it, you~"

As Matt approached his bed, he looked down at the bag of potions(or "poshons" as he dubbed it) he had set down on his floor, and let out a hum of curiosity. He watched as the neon pink liquid bubbled up into multiple pastel pink circles, letting it fade into nothingness as it popped meaninglessly, serving a worthless existence. Placing a hand on his chin, he continued to look down on it.

"...hmmm." He hummed, "One possibly couldn't hurt, right? But that stranger did say that the world would blow up if I drank it.."

...

"Eh, oh well! Since when did I care about what other people want?"

Matt then reached down into one of the bottles in the bag, and took it out, feeling the freezing liquid inside of the bottle lightly touch his skin. Opening it with his fingers, without thinking, he then began to tilt it, and let the liquid slowly slip inside of his pastel pink lips. A bubblegum, raspberry, sweet taste filling his mouth.

//////////////////

E

[cutelittleriot]

Chapter 3

Tw for dissassociation episode (I think idk if I wrote it right)

Trolls have fur in this it's just very very short almost a fuzz. Unless your a techno troll. You can see the fuzz on Barbs hands when she plays a guitar solo

The first thing that he is aware of when he wakes up is that he itches......EVERYWHERE!

Bolting up Branch begins to scratch everywhere at his fur. It feels like his skin is buzzing like crazy and like his body has been doused in itching powder and no matter how hard he scratches it won't go away whatsoever. He knows that stupid fruit caused this itchiness. He knows that he should be glad that he isn't sick or you know dead but this could just possibly be a series of stages before he neets his inevitable demise.

Getting up he rushes to take a shower to hopefully somehow relieve himself of this itchiness or at least make it more tolerable but it doesn't for some reason it feels somewhat uncomfortable when the water hits his fur like it's weighing him down. Deciding that this isn't helping one bit he gets dressed and heads out to see if Poppy is going through this as well, all the while still scratching at himself like crazy and trolls who were up and about stare at him in confusion at his weird behavior before moving on with their lives.

He reaches Poppy's pod and frantically knocks at the door. "Who is it?" Poppy asks loudly. "Its Branch!" He yells his arms are getting tired from scratching so much already but he can't stop he needs this itchiness to go away ne needs to scratch as it seems to help only a tiny bit.

"Just give me a minute I'm doing my hair real quick!" She yells probably from her bathroom. So Baranch stands outside just continuing to scratch himself. As he is scratching he notices that his itchiness seems to be especially bad around his head,sure it's bad everywhere on his body but it's especially bad on his head.

After what seems like the longest minute Poppy opens up her pod and.....she isn't scratching herself?! WHAT KIND OF FAVORTISM IS THIS?! "Woah Branch are you ok?! Your scratching yourself like crazy!" She exclaims concerned grabbing his hands to stop himself but he moves his hands away from her "Oh I don't know maybe it's because I'm itching everywhere and it's all because of that fruit you gave me?!" He exclaims sarcastically.

"But if that fruit caused this than why aren't I itchy" She ponders as she looks herself over. "I don't know but I'm having a feeling if it was sentient that the fruit is picking favorites!" Branch says angry. "Hey don't worry my dad is up at around this time so there no need to worry I bet he has some answers let's go find him" She says trying to be optimistic of the situation and Branch is not having it and just gives her the most deadpan expression he can give her while he still scratching.

The two make their way to king Peppys pod and soon reach it "Uhm dad we need help" Poppy says entering the pod seeing her dad looking at some scrapbooks of what seems to be wildlife. "Yes what is it Poppy? Is someone hurt or -oh sweet everything why are you scratching yourself so much Branch?!" King peppy exclaims shocked at seeing this odd behavior from the former grey troll.

"Well you see dad-" Poppy begins to explain yesterday's events to him and he nods along as he listens. "Wait Poppy could you describe that fruit again?" He asks his back straightening suddenly as if alarmed. "Uh it was about this big" She gestures with her hands. "It was bright pink with a green stem and parts of it were different colors sort of like a rainbow and it was covered in glitter" She says describing the fruit.

"And just how much of the fruit did you eat" King Peppy says suddenly sounding worried and grabs poppys shoulders and Branch's anxiety is not liking the worried tone the king is using right now. "Uhm I only had 3 small pieces while Branch ate the rest. Why what's wrong is Branch in danger?!" Poppy exclaims worried that she might just have sentenced her boyfriend to die by complete accident.

King Peppy sighs suddenly looking much older than he already is. "No he isn't in any danger he won't die as that fruit isn't poisonous in any way" he says and the couple let out a sigh of relief. "But that doesn't mean that something isn't happening to him" he says looking at Branch with a solem expression. Branch can feel his anxiety take a whole new level now. Just what was happening to him? Was this just a allergic reaction? A side effect?

"What you ate is something some thought to be a myth due to how rare it is. The last time this fruit was even seen was before I was even hatched from my egg that's how rare this fruit is" King Peppy explains. "Come take a seat you two I think it's time I tell you about what this fruit truly is and what our ancestors were like a long time ago" he gestures to 2 chairs and they each take a seat and Branch is still scratching himself alebit not as hard.

"In order to understand what this fruit does first you need to learn about our ancestors. We pop trolls didn't always look the way we do now. We weren't as social or friendly as we are now. We often stayed alone, we didn't live in villages we often lived by ourselves unless we were with our mate and or with our trollings,but other than that we were very solitary." He explains to the two.

"Oh wow I can't ever imagine being all alone like that, that sounds horrible" Poppy exclaims. "So not much different than how I used to be" Branch deadpans. "Yes we also looked much different, we had thicker fur,our colors weren't nearly as bright or colorful. We also had fangs and claws for protection from predators" King Peppy explains some more. "I'm not seeing how this has anything to do with the fruit dad?" Poppy says confused.

King Peppy takes a long sad look at Branch before he sighs "Overtime our ancestors began to look and act like the trolls of today friendly,cuddly,social creatures. Due to this those traits that our ancestors had before went away with time until we lost them entirely as we didn't need them anymore. That fruit that you ate it....it transforms a troll back into what our ancestors looked like" King peppy says sadly.

Branch swore he thought he heard a record scratch at what he was hearing "It WHAT?!" Branch yells both shocked and petrified he didn't want to become what sounded like a monster with the way King Peppy was describing them. "Yes as of right now your body is transforming itself back to what our ancestors looked like." He says giving Branch a onceover with a bit of a confused expression "Oh yeah? Than why isn't Poppy affected by this?!" Branch really wants to know the answer to this.

"Its due to the amount of the fruit you ate you have to eat a certain amount in order for the transformation to take place. Branch you ate almost half of it while Poppy sheonly ate 3 small bites so it wasn't enough for the transformation to take place unlike with you. Normally a troll would eat the whole fruit and it would happen all at once and usually would be complete the next day but it seems with you it's more slow and gradual." King peppy explains as he takes a closer look.

"See? Take a look Branch your fur is currently growing as we speak its why you are so itchy" King peppy explains as he grabs a hand mirror and low and behold he is right. On certain parts of his face you could see bits of fur sticking up. Branch holds the mirror with a angry expression as he glares at his reflection.

"Well this is just fantastic. How do I reverse this? Becuase if it gets worse than this itchiness I'm gonna go ballistic" He says as he grits his teeth and scratches his head with a new vigor.

"I wish there was a better way to say this Branch but I'm sorry to say that this transformation is permanent it can't be reversed" the old king explains.

The two look at Branch probably expecting yelling or screaming but he just stares ahead with a blank expression as he drops the mirror thankfully not shattering and he stops scratching entirely as his arms hang limp at his sides. "Branch?" Poppy asks concerned for her boyfriend at the way he is taking this news.

Permanent

That word is the only thing he can hear right now and is currently registering

Permanent

The word keep repeating over over in his head

Can't be reversed

I can't go back to normal

....ch!

He ignores everything around him. He can't hear anything else he is just focusing on that one word.

Permanent

......anch!

Stuck

....BRANCH!

The sound of his girfriends voice snaps him out of whatever was going on with him. He looks up and she is gripping his shoulders and shaking him and he can tell she is trying very hard not to cry right now. Oh and was it him or was he having a bit of trouble breathing at the moment?

"Huh what happened?" He asks confused. "You jsut zoned out! Nothing we were doing was getting your attention! You were just staring at nothing and you were starting to hyperventilate!" She says as she gives him a tight hug that seems to ground him as he can focus more now and is more aware.

"Branch if it's any consultation the transformation is only physical there aren't any mental changes well maybe other than some new instincts but I assure you they are harmless!" He says putting his hands up.

Well he guesses that's one good thing out of this whole nightmare he wouldn't be a mindless feral monster he don't know what he would do if that were the case. Probably just isolate himself far away from the village as to not hurt anyone.

"I-i just want to go home right now" He stutters out as he stands up as Poppy releases her grip on him. She nods and gets ready to follow him "No Poppy i- I need to be alone right now ok?" We can talk tomorrow I just need to process this" He says as he leaves leaving both the king and queen who watch on in sadness.

He has never run so fast before back to his bunker. He quickly makes his way down and just crawls into bed hugs himself and begins to sob at his new chapter in life until he cries himself to sleep.

The origin fruit

A fruit that isn't created via a normal way its completely random when one is made. It can happen to any fruit but it often happens with rock troll fruit and pop troll fruit. A random fruit will mutate into a origin fruit and will not spoil or rot even if cut open.

It has no seeds and can't be planted as nothing will grow

Any troll that eats this will physically revery to what their ancestors looked like. The effects differ for each type of troll

(I went sort of a devil fruit route with the mutation)

[eldritch-spouse]

Yeah yeah Breg wants to be a dad and all. But how would he be as a dad lowkey??? Like is mans real ready for somethin like that? Its just so cute and funny for me to imagine though lol

This 8ft monster and this tiny baby. Like genuinely tiny. And small. And very vulnerable.

Thinkin bout whether he’d be the kinda dad to try and get the baby to say Dada as their first word or mama-

I do wonder if he can even handle when the kid starts gettin real rebellious and emotional. Like im sure he readied himself for this moment, and cause Reader would warn him bout soon enough their babys gonna say mean things and do hurtful / weird / dangerous + stupid shit. But itd probs hurt when the kid starts saying I hate yous and insults or something when they fight.

Bet he’d dread the day the baby actually grows up and leaves the nest and all that. Ooo as for potential lovers for the kid, would he approve???

Btw i just imagine when the baby has to get their shots and Breg is there watchin reader holdin the baby gettin injected with the needle and as soon as the baby starts crying he prob cries.

In the masterlist, there's a couple of posts that describe how Breg handles parenthood, in different settings of course. Such as Breg with an obsession who takes in a baby breeder, Breg and a "miracle pregnancy", and Breg with a single parent s/o. I think those are useful to give you a basic gist of things.

In general, is Breg ready to be a dad? No, fuck no. Maybe to a breeder hatchling he is, but to a human child? Not even close. He desperately wants to be a dad and has a very optimist mindset about it. The breeder is very willing to learn, but it'll be a challenge.

Whether the bay says "dada" or "mama", he's still overjoyed.

Anything that has to do with hospitals and doctors is extremely stressful for Breg, and he's going to be glued to your back the entire time, wanting to get things over with as soon as possible. The crying has him so tense he might just pop. His skin is constantly flickering and he'll snap at anyone who touches you two without warning. He never quite grows out of this, and you'll have to explain to the kiddo why daddy is so tense around hospitals, in a really soft and age-appropriate way naturally.

Breg has seen many tantrums in his unfortunate time within the facility. Ugly ones, things that mark you, from adults. He can handle most tantrums the kid throws at him without getting scandalized, but the "I hate you"s will kill him inside. Breg won't physically snap at them, but he does leave the situation, instead of addressing and chastising the kid. He's very, very concerned about safety and fights between peers especially, his tendency to shelter needs to be rebuffed every now and then. It'll calm him down if you invest in self-defense classes for the little one.

Lovers are scrutinized lightly, all things considered. Up until heartbreak happens. Oh boy, he's not going to enjoy dealing with that. Remember, Breg is yandere, he will kill for his child if he deems it necessary. While they're underaged, he can and will constantly warn them that mates have to be very carefully chosen and that they're not ready for that. As an adult, the breeder won't interfere too much in his kid's choices, but he will have a couple of tense, definitely threatening conversations with their partner. You know him by now, don't let this happen.

Leaving the nest always hurts, for most parents really. Distract the breeder or he will help himself to your kid's new place, just to make sure everything's okay. I can only picture your poor kid rolling their eyes as they open the front door to Breg snooping around, and then you have to come by to pick your dumbass up.

[hypmicdaydreams]

Hi! Can i have number 29 from A Love Epiphany with Doppo?

ofc! me being, well, me had to make this about coworkers lol. it's on the longer side, but regardless, hope you enjoy 🤍

love epiphany prompts: being relieved from all worries and stress when they see their crush smiling

at times, doppo couldn’t help but feel as if his entire archetype was simply that he was a salaryman, constantly working overtime with no sense of sleep at all. 

i mean, sure it was true to an extent, but surely that wasn’t all that there was to him!..oh who was he kidding; doppo knew for a fact that his entire life revolved around work at the moment, especially considering he was still stuck in the office at half past five and finishing the work his boss had dumped at the very last minute. 

oh how he was cursing him and imagining vivid, graphic images of beating him to a pulp using his hypnosis mic. doppo wasn’t top of shinjuku’s ward for nothing, and this was truly the only catharsis he felt he had right now. the bright screen of his computer was already giving him migraines, and the words felt and looked so small.

ugh, he pounded his head against his desk. doppo felt like he was going insane. 

“huh? still in the office, kannonzaka?”

doppo immediately straightened up at the sound of another colleague still in the office, at the sound of you. it was strange for anyone else to still be in here at this time, besides him, of course. he was always the office scapegoat, but that wasn’t news. you staying behind, however, that was new. he wondered if the boss had gotten to you too. 

“y-yes,” his voice always seemed to be a stutter, especially around you. doppo knows he’s still a bit awkward around colleagues, despite being a veteran in the company, but it’s still weird to him when it comes to you. it didn’t help that the first thing he noticed was how good you still looked in the office’s stringent uniform code despite the exhausting day. “i still have some work to finish up.”

“ah, so did i, though i just finished right now.” so lucky, were the first words that crossed his mind. if only that could be him. “i could help you out if you want.” 

you must’ve seen the desperation behind the eyes, the envy of you. that certainly would’ve been embarrassing, but doppo, for one, saw a bright halo above you: his savior. you, your kind and gracious soul, wanted to stay behind even more and help him? you truly were heavenly, and the mere thought of working with you had him act up more than usual. his anxiety surely was not having it. 

but still, doppo would feel much too bad to have a colleague, especially you, to do his own work for him. “h-huh?! no no…you don’t have to. i mean, it’s my work and-”

“it’s fine! the boss is always dumping stuff onto you.” ah, so you have noticed the unfair treatment; that makes him feel just a tad embarrassed to be honest, even when it wasn’t his fault. “i can help out a little, i promise.” then you give him a smile, that damned smile. “everything will be alright. we can finish up quick then head out to dinner, my treat!” 

and you sounded so optimistic, so cute. your smile was so bright, and strangely enough, it lifted the weight he felt he had on his shoulders, the tiny bit of despair in his heart for today. it looked so confident, so freeing? perhaps you were right; it’d be faster if you helped out, then he can get out of here as soon as possible. and the prospect of eating out with you made the pace of his heart quicken, and not in the social anxiety-inducing way he was a little used to. well, perhaps he was a little shy regarding the date (which it wasn’t but his stupid thoughts kept telling him otherwise). but it also gave him something to look forward to. 

“thank you..” and he can’t help but give a small smile in return. 

man, doppo already knows the headache he’s going to have when he gets back home from his roommate, teasing him about coming home late and asking how the date with his crush was. it wasn’t a date, not yet anyway, hopefully; but doppo would never let you pay for it though. it would be his treat for today.

[wonderlandmind4]

Okay, I’m FINALLY home from work. It’s 6pm and I’m finally able to watch She Hulk. (it was when I started watching) LETS GO.

🚨MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD🚨

…did I absolutely miss something? Was that “female lawyer of the year” nom in an earlier episode? Did they just sneak that in? Am I crazy? (Edit: I just forgot because I’m dumb)

Oh fuck. OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG I’m fucking, I’m panting, I’m, did I just run a marathon!? Matt just fucking comes WALTZING THE FUCK IN MAKING BLIND JOKES IMMEDIATELY I CANT I FUCCKING CANT OMG WHY AM I SO GIDDY I HAVE TEARS IN MY EYES WHY CANTI BREATHE

Gotta calm down to watch the rest of the episode *paperbagging it* my heart is racing. I’m sweating. Fuck. I had to pause and rewatch the seven 3 times

Omg the Sovokia Accors have been appealed!? Fuck yes! As in like completely gone? No more? Thank fuck. (Which I’m assuming that’s 100% Marvel confirming this Matt and NMUC Matt are the same Matt. Right? )

Omg he’s so fucking smug! MATT stop showcasing your own abilities in public as yourself! 😂😂😂

I looovvveeeee watching Matt lawyer it up!

I honestly wasn’t expecting to have that reaction…I couldn’t fucking BREATHEEEEE

…he’s such a smug beautiful snarky son of a bitch. I love this devil asshole

”we” “WE” MATT SAID WE!!!! That was as close to a Foggy name drop as possible, I’ll take it

…..who’s calling you Matthew???? Also……super secret because his phone wasn’t set up for the robotic voice Id 🤔 so that was definitely his DD phone and clearly upgraded to a smart phone instead of a burner

God, I fucking missed that smile, that crinkly eyed happy smile

“We’re all feeling this right? It’s not just me?” Oh Jen, HONEY, you have no idea how many people are combusting right now. I love Jen so much

…..bro that cgi was *ahem* could use some alot work during that fight scene…BUT I DONT CARE BECAUSE MMAATTTTT. (I really hope they don’t use a lot of cgi for the new DD show)

Matt was so tiny next to her 😂

She just ripped his helmet off omg, pick him just like an empty bottle of mustard

Was that…oh my fucking they used the original Daredevil music!!!! 😭

….that charming little fuck…oh I am loving this side of Matt so much

It was a mini hallway fight scene!!! 👏🏼👏🏼They’re GIVING it us aren’t they!? 😭

I HAVE NO ONE TO FREAK OUT TO ABOUT THIS!!!

Okay…okay…okayokayokay….the suit was still super menacing even with the gold because the light reflected off the horns and yeah…all of that was hot. (The fighting was better too)

…FUCK YESSSSS JENNIFER!!!!! YES GIRL GET IT!!! Fuck that devil for all of our sakes! 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 I am LIVING for this!!! He was kissing her in the suit! HE WAS KISSING HER IN THE SUIT *dies* (lol at trying to figure out how to to get Matt out of the suit in the first place)

(Hey, um @pastafossa ….. this is reminding me a lot of TRT 🤔😂)

Daredevil casually doing the walk of shame! 😂

We get Matt and Nikki looking hot as fuck in this episode? My Bisexual heart is too fragile for this

Where’s Pug. Oh nvm. I found him!

Not that asshole filming Jen on top of stealing her blood. And not the other asshole biding on a Dora Milaje spear 😡🤬

Are we honestly going to blame Jennifer tearing down the screen as she was CLEARLY recorded without her knowledge!? I’ll fight them for you Jen! No one messes with you!

Listen. Best episode. I said what I said. And holy shit, I am LIVING right now! Matt was just sooo…I’m gonna say awesome and himself just a happier “in a better place” version of himself. He reminded me of college!Matt, happy and giddy and that stupid beautiful smirk of his. That smug, charming, quipping beautiful beautiful devil man. And his abilities!? That was perfect! Le sigh.

I missed him.

And this makes me…..cautiously optimistic about the Daredevil Born Again series.

…..Jen letting us know how absolutely satisfied Matt left her…

[mcalhenwrites]

Now that Geckos is out, I plan to work on the side stories for a little collection of them. "Don't" and "Dancing Bones" will be edited, but I plan to post them online for free as well as put them in the story collection.

It'll likely only be an ebook, though, and it'll have a few more stories. That includes a finished version of "Late Returns" (what I've posted is only the first part of a WIP). I want to get back to Stargazers' Hill and the Warren/Henry story that isn't titled yet, but right now, Seasons has taken over my brain again. I'm editing and reposting chapters on AO3. I thought people might be upset that I was reposting it, but so far the reception has been kind. ;A; (I still feel bad somehow? But that's on me.) After publishing Geckos and having an amazing day in the next town over, the following day was... not so great. We had storms. I'm gonna be vague for location reasons, but I live in one of the towns hit by a tornado the other day. I saw a map of it, and uh, I could've seen the tornado out my bedroom window if it had hit during the day instead of at night where visibility is shit. And if I hadn't been huddled in the downstairs hallway with my cats and roommate. I was panicked about the weather all day, and that was worse because it was the anniversary of Andover 1991 (a tornado). I lived through that. Uh, very luckily I lived through that, it hit my neighborhood and was scary close to my house, to the point the sirens 50 ft away or so were drowned out by the sound of the tornado. We had no basement and no good inner rooms or closets in such a tiny house at the time. I've been through other tornadoes since then, but none were as terrifying as that one. Before the tornado and after the reminder that it was Andover 1991 aniversary... I also got an email that I didn't get a job that would've been good for my disabilities. Like, worked around it well and not been too straining on me. Plus I would've worked with animals. I'm struggling financially, so writing is the only way I'm getting any income - outside of crocheting, and I don't want to fucking do that for money. I want my hobby back. I want to make gifts. I want to make OC dolls. I want my limited physical spoons for crocheting to be for ENJOYMENT. Not so stressful it makes me fucking hate crocheting. Which... yeah, I'm kind of there again. That said, I have made a few book sales, but... Well, I'll keep trying. I've got other novels cooking. I'll double down my focus, maybe. I will sketch more. Maybe I'll reconsider using something like Patreon, which... don't love, but like. What can you love? Every site is screwing over creators in some way or another. :'( It's depressing, actually, bc I hop on facebook, and I can't see ANY posts of the people and groups I follow, but you know what I DO see? Fucking suggested pages for AI art. I really hope all the people who gentrified the tiny house movement get scammed into buying stupid fake tiny houses due to AI images and end up taking legal action eventually that helps to bring about the (hopefully inevitable) death of AI? I'm mean, but like, tiny houses and mobile homes and caravans and shit like that were houses before rich people decided they were cute and they went up to $200k-$300k. I wanted a tiny house bc I thought, "at least I might someday afford this" but nah. They took even that away. So enjoy your shitty "this is perfect for me" gushing when the fucking pillows are melted into the planks and the switches for the oven and stovetop are underneath the burners! Anyway! I should probably do more writing and take my anemic ass to bed soon. It's been... a shitty couple of days. I'm trying to be cheerful and remain optimistic and just boost Geckos, Automata... but eh. I'm also trying to survive when everything is against that. I had a suicidal thought earlier today that I should just gulp down all the pills I can get my hands on and be done with things. yay. (I won't. It was a passing thought. A desperate "oh god I can't afford to live and I should give up, I'm in my late 30s and nothing ever gets better" thought.)

[valrunasjournal]

The mean girl on tic tok 🥲and me ranting like the baby I am 😂

Today the weirdest thing happened. I was scrolling through TikTok and I saw this random live video and some girl was going on about her past and I wasn’t really listening because I had just scrolled and the image she had viewing was this checklist for whatever her mental disability was and having that with them myself all I saw was how the list was telling you what you can and cannot do and then what’s gonna happen to you at 30 statistically and it was all quite depressing and utter bullshit and I disagreed with it so I thought to encourage her by saying you need to stop limiting yourself, and that you’re capable of everything and anything I thought this was quite uplifting, but not only did she cussed me out after reading the comment she called me an ablest which I had to look up and then verbally told me she was going to block me as I was typing to ask what she meant and I was thusly blocked before finishing the question . Having quite a couple of mental disabilities( can you tell?) myself this perplexed me to the point where I’m so disturbed by it but I had to actually write in a blog so as not to disturb the elderly on my Facebook , like what the hell is wrong with people? Since when did telling people that they are capable of way more than whatever a stupid post says prejudice? She’s probably mad because she wrote it. But the level of angry for that one sentence that she took out of context ?  I don’t even know what context she was taking it in. It hurt I was sincerely trying to be optimistic and uplifting. god I fucking suck at that.

You could have 1 million different mental disabilities but the moment you put yourself in a tiny box with little checkmarks is the moment you’re just letting everyone else win.

I had to take years of life to remind myself that it’s everyone else telling me it’s not possible that instilled fear in me and the fear is our only true limiter . If that’s prejudice against mental illness then fuck I guess I hate myself by trying to love myself and to hell with that there literally no logic in any of it . I decided to go to class and start an entire business this coming year because I finally removed one of the biggest influences in my life who made me afraid to try anything, and I realize it was just other peoples voices and fears I was hearing that may be hold back.  Everyone’s so fucking afraid. Of everything.

Now we have an entire new generation of youngsters checking the checkboxes on how they’re mentally unstable and then glamorizing it and sharing it with each other, which is just reinforcing these things that are limiting themselves and half the time hogwash they found by some lady selling mineral water for 50 bucks and telling you to eat clay. I don’t understand it’s so unhealthy.

It is one thing to accept our “mental illnesses, “and I say that with quotations because everybody has them , I don’t consider most of them illnesses at all .  If you’re hyperactive at all, now you’re liable ADHD..  if you’re sad at all now you’re marked with depression.  So what kind of fucking robot is the template of a normal person? Oh wait, there is no such thing only the ideal of a normal person according to what? I’m not saying these things don’t exist but nature is the great equalizer and almost every bad trait a person has is met with an equally good one.

You learn about yourself you find what you believe to be your limitations and then you find a way to put push past them to the point where you’re comfortable. Sometimes there’s limitations that you put there yourself and they make you happy and that’s OK . Like maybe you hate being around people and you actually are happier being alone that’s awesome you found out that that’s a thing for you. That’s OK you don’t have to force yourself to hang out with people! Guess what your still a normal human being.

…. but when you’re making yourself miserable  of these quirks you supposedly have , you need to ask yourself, is it really a quirk or am I letting somebody put me in a box and following someone else’s version of me?

Say you’re an introvert, but you’re absolutely miserable and lonely . You envy others who go to parties and hang with the crowd.

Are you really an introvert or are you just nervous around people because you don’t know how to interact comfortably? Is there a solution to learn how to interact comfortably? Is it the type of people you’re trying to socialize with the issue? Maybe it’s a triggering environment?  could be potentially the loud noise? Maybe it’s the fact that they’re all drinking beer and you grew up with an alcoholic dad and it’s a trigger ?

This is just example but most people just say oh I’m an introvert and then they hide in the room and don’t try to confront the issue and they don’t try to confront their fears and then now they’re blaming it on mental illnesses. If this person could actually narrow down, what was going on, they would be able to learn to get past it, and actually thrive, but rather they’re putting themselves in a box and just calling themselves an introvert .

People are far too complex to label them in some simplified chart like it’s their zodiac it pisses me off

and then you try to encourage one brat and they accuse you of being prejudiced against … yourself ? 🥲 I’m on the wrong timeline , in the bad place bro , that ferret that died in the particle accelerator… why ?!!

I’m not even going to tag anything from this online blog journal I don’t care if no one sees it , it’s easier to write to someone tough . I don’t really have friends anymore and the beautiful husbands away for another day so at 1 in the morning here I am

So why oh why a question for myself

Why does this tiny only a few seconds even upset ME so thoroughly?

[thetaylorfiles]

Wait, hold up! How are you "Very Old" but also "got hit with menopause early"? Which is it girlie, the math ain't mathing? I always assumed you were in your late 30s. It's cool if you don't want to get into it though, it's none of my business I know, I was just curious! Good luck with the ADHD meds btw!

So, from what I’ve learned, perimenopause is the time where you start losing hormones because your womb and eggs are winding down - no clue how to say this properly. You lose hormones and start getting awful fucking symptoms. However, if you’re getting your period still, you’re not in menopause yet. Menopause begins one year after your last period. (I hope I’m getting this all correct. It can be confounding sometimes)

I’m still getting ‘baby’ periods. It used to be a normal 5 day cycle. Now it’s one heavy day, one light day and that’s it, maybe spotting for a day. The terrible symptoms started over a year ago when I got a bladder infection that not even a urologist could get under control. For 3 months. I literally felt like I had a UTI for three months. It was hell. One of the top 3 painful/uncomfortable experiences of my life.

Also at the time I started becoming irrational, easily annoyed, sweating through my sheets every night, so much more but also I became rage-y. I’ve never felt that emotion in my life till then and the rage comes from stupid things like forgetting something. Or getting cut off in traffic. It was scary how angry I got, my body felt like I needed to hit things in order to get that anger out. I would beat up my steering wheel with my hands, punching it and only hurting myself more. But it felt like a need. I despise feeling like that. Im normally an optimistic person who’s pretty easygoing.

Menopause is hell and no one talks about it. I try to talk about it when I can because I swear, it wouldn’t be this bad if you could prepare. If our moms explained it all like our periods. It being this terrible surprise was like a gut punch. And doctors don’t believe you. It took me FIVE doctors to find one who believed me.

I’m a bit past 40. And I started getting symptoms over a year ago. So that’s why I call it early menopause (technically early perimenopause). Typically women start to get it between 45-55. I’m not there yet. And one of the reasons the docs didn’t believe me is because I was slightly young for it. The other reason is because women are woefully under treated, disbelieved, and humored unkindly when trying to get healthcare treatment. Do you know that in med school they spend one class session going over menopause? That’s a couple of hours for something that happens to 50% of the world and causes suffering to most of those women. Shouldn’t doctors get a bit more training? I could rant forever. There’s so much fucked up about women’s healthcare and not just menopause stuff.

So that’s where I am. Maybe I misspoke? Maybe it’s not early? I don’t know. I now take estrogen through a gel and a progesterone pill. Most of the time I feel normal and like myself, but that other 25% is awful. It’s like someone else is inhabiting your body. It’s not even just the pain or discomfort if whatever symptom is blessing you with it’s presence. It’s the way it changes your personality for the worse and how annoying you become to your family members who can’t possibly understand it because no one talks about it! We need to normalize menopause as much as we have normalized PMS. I need to stop talking about this now! 😂😂

And thanks! I’m on day 3. It’s just little changes but oh my god does it make a difference! I actually want to do the things that I normally have to remind myself 20 times over to do. I feel better and more clear and more up. I’m so excited for how it’s making me feel. So hard to explain but it’s this tiny pick me up in the oddest of ways.

If anyone of you guys has adhd and takes concerta, do you like it? Anything o should know? Or if you take anything else you feel like sharing. I’m open to any advice!

Sorry about the math not mathing. Hope i explained it well

[jimilter]

riptide (m) | k.sj. | (1/2)

one | two

pairing:  kim seokjin x reader

rating:  m (18+)

genre:  angst | smut | established relationship!au

summary:  It takes a foolishly trivial incident to unravel how astonishingly little you and Seokjin actually understand each other. It has you questioning your relationship, and him? Well, he’s questioning his whole life.

warnings:  swearing + implied alcohol consumption + realistic relationship problems + mentions of insecurities, jealousy, complicated mental dispositions + emotional distress + sexual situations (unprotected penetrative sex, dirty talking, a bit of manhandling, fingering) + mentions of masturbation + a ton of miscommunication (refer to the summary smh)

word count: 12.3 k

note:  it’s FINALLY done, y’all! came up to be a monster of 25k words, so i decided to split it into two. i’ll drop the other part next week. this took a lot more time, energy and re-writing than i’d thought it would. i began writing this in january - it’s been five excruciating months! 😩 i really hope y'all will like this one~ 🥺💜

💟 YOUTH – 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

riptide (n) – a dangerous area of strongly moving water in the sea, where two or more currents meet.

Lady, running down to the riptide - Taken away to the dark side - I wanna be your left hand man.

The turn of events has been so fucking hilariously impossible that Seokjin has literally been rendered speechless. Which doesn't happen often, mind you. What can he do, he is just extremely witty—he always has something to say about everything, usually and preferably with impeccable comic timing. Especially when it comes to you. 

This, though. This completely baffling scenario, right in front of him, has him gaping like a goldfish with no words to say.

"Final call, Jin. Gawk at me for five more seconds and I walk out of here," you threaten, an elegant arm poised at your waist and gorgeously plump lips pressed into a thin line. "Say something?"

And Seokjin still cannot formulate a single word, because what the actual fuck? How can you even think that he could ever— 

"Alright." You catwalk out of his bedroom, leaving him blinking into space.

He jumps the next second, leaping after you. "Honey! How would—what—I can never—why do I even have to say—will you wait? You’re being so ridiculous, right now, I hope you know that!"

If he wasn't in such a fix, Seokjin would physically cringe at his speech. It was better when he was just gaping.

“Honey! Stop being so overdramatic, you’ve known me and you’ve known Jimin! For years! Stop acting like you seriously don’t know what happened, here!”

You don't stop, though, gliding down the stairs and hopping over the haphazardly tossed items in the living room as you exit out of the house.

And then you're gone. You're really gone, over something so fucking ridiculous, that Seokjin still has no words to say.

All he knows is that his girlfriend of five years has finally gone crazy enough to jump to conclusions of such high magnitude of stupidity.

And, that Park Jimin is a dead man.

It all begins on an unsuspecting Sunday morning, when the entire house is smelling of weed, stale booze and some worse fluids. 

Last night, Seokjin vacated his own bedroom for the boys to smoke up in at Jimin's request, because that is the only well ventilated room of the house. He spent the night in Yoongi's room with earplugs in, dead to all the chaos in the house—as he often does on party nights—to catch up on his beauty sleep. He cannot afford any unbecoming dark circles or, God forbid, breakouts.

And no, that's not a comedic moment, he really does need his face looking perfect this week for reasons outside of personal gratification too, because he has a shoot on Tuesday. He especially took a leave from his part-time job at the Mexican restaurant downtown where his girlfriend, you, work full-time, on a Tuesday—saying goodbye to all the amazing tips always forwarded to the cooks on Taco Tuesday—for this. Nothing would mess up his face.

Not to mention that one very important audition for a very gigantic project he's been looking forward to. They're yet to announce the date, but it would be this very month. He hasn't really told you much about it, planning a huge surprise for later when—if, actually, but he prefers to be unrealistically optimistic in every situation possible—he bags the coveted position, at the end. He hasn't really decided upon much, other than a long drive and a picnic date to one of those grasslands on the city's outskirts that you love so much. Oh, and bringing up the prospect of moving in together in an apartment with just the two of you. 

He's pretty certain you must not remember him raving about the opportunity, because it has been months since he did that. He then proceeded to be covert about all the mini auditions and trainings he underwent to prepare for the final audition, and he is confident you have not connected the dots.

But that is all a discussion for later — he doesn't even know when he would be auditioning. 

The crux of the whole matter is that he needs to keep looking as flawless as he can until that audition happens.

So he has slept like a baby, last night, while the rest of his friends have partied, including two out of three of his housemates—Hoseok and Jimin—along with Taehyung and Taehyung's girl. Namjoon had foregone attendance in lieu of the Halloween party, next weekend, that he knows he would definitely be forced to attend because Hoseok is hosting. Yoongi, his third and final housemate, escaped the house altogether to spend a night of music-making with Jungkook in his dorm.

So, in the morning, when Seokjin is moving around his kitchen that seems to have been hit by a tornado, checking the fridge and mentally praying that his baggie of smoothie ingredients is still in good shape—a scream echoes around the house.

Seokjin freezes. That sounded a lot like…you.

Immediately alert, he runs out of the kitchen and into the drawing room. Hoseok is hanging upside down on one of the couches, something that looks a lot like undigested white sauce pasta puddles on the ground, inches from his new, fiery red hair. Seokjin grimaces.

"Kim Seokjin!" your screech tears the silence.

Seokjin twists on his heels, looking up in the direction of his bedroom. It really is you. And you're in his bedroom—the room he did not occupy last night.

God only knows what kind of a scene you have walked in on. He hopes these idiots didn’t have an orgy up there, although he really can’t put it past them.

Not waiting another second, Seokjin rushes up the stairs and pushes through the doors to his bedroom. His mouth falls open on an audible gasp.

You stand next to his bed, dressed up elegantly in a navy dress that ends above your knees—which makes him wonder if you are here for an impromptu breakfast date—with one hand clutching his duvet that has uncovered what looks like…

…a head of long, dirty blonde hair.

Who the fuck?

In his bed?

"Hey, Honey!" Seokjin's voice is a squeak. "You… you here for a date?" he manages out of a suddenly parched throat.

You roll your eyes. "Uh huh. A fact you would've known if you looked at the texts I sent you last night." Your eyes are narrow at him. "This explains why you didn't, though. Busy night, Jin?" 

He balks at your words, at a loss. How could you even think it was him, when you know all about Park Jimin and his escapades?! 

Seokjin's blood boils. Fucking Jimin. There is going to be blood on Seokjin’s hands. 

In the midst of it, the blonde head shifts. 

Soon after, as you two watch, a pair of brown eyes with smudged makeup emerge from inside Seokjin's bed—and the audacity?! There’s makeup all over his covers! Jimin will pay for the dry cleaning. The face is followed by a whole, tiny woman of five-something feet who is, thankfully, covered in a shirt.

Seokjin is almost not breathing when the blonde starts to give him a dreamy smile, his gaze switching between her and you. And it’s extremely stupid, because he hasn’t seen this woman before, ever, in his entire life. But he catches the way your arms fall to your sides and those elegant, dainty fingers of yours ball up into fists as you look at the blondie’s face.

Fortunately, the girl recognises him at last before her grin could turn fully dopey, and with a squeak, jumps out of the bed. “You’re not—um. Hi. Sorry, I, uh. I’ll get going.”

And surprisingly, she does exactly that in less than a minute, leaving you to stare down at Seokjin.

“You know, it’s really unbecoming for a girlfriend to keep finding girls in her boyfriend’s bed every other week and not be given an explanation, ever.” Your tone is teasing, but your eyes are taunting. “You shouldn’t always be so dismissive, you know? What if I start getting ideas? I don’t think you even remember how to make up with your girlfriend, at this point, because I never fight.”

That is when Seokjin starts gawking. And literally doesn’t stop until you’ve left the house.

“I don’t get it,” Jackson says, stuffing cold noodles into his mouth and chewing on them without closing it. “Do you think he cheated on you, or do you not think he cheated on you?”

You look at your best friend with your face twisted up in disgust. You swear to God you would never have agreed to make friends with this guy on your mother’s insistence when the Wang family moved in next doors to you, had you known he’d turn out to be such a barbarian a decade later. Twelve-year-old Jackson had been such a decent kid—studious, elegant, well-mannered. What went wrong, along the way?

You exhale, shifting on your chair, very wary of any dried up fluids that you might come in contact with. “I know he did not cheat on me, Jax, the very notion is completely ridiculous.”

Jackson stops chewing and looks away from the WWE match playing on the TV to squint at you. “I’m…confused? Wait. What is the problem, then? What are you mad at him for?”

To be completely honest, you aren’t quite certain yourself.

But you do know that you don’t feel good. And that this feeling has been building up over a couple months, but you have only really acknowledged it head-on, today, in all five-something years of your relationship. Five years, seven months and eight days, to be exact, but that’s kinda besides the point.

You’ve had at least a few months’ worth of buildup that has gotten you to this point, you would admit. Especially after Seokjin had to cancel that visit to your hometown at the end of June, for your parents’ thirty-fifth wedding anniversary celebration because he had an important audition for a big-brand ad film. The cancellation was acceptable, but his offhand comment that, “thirty-five isn’t even that special, we’ll get them a huge gift for their fiftieth,” stayed with you longer than it should’ve. Things got okay-ish when you reminded yourself how Seokjin never really thought too hard about things he said, always being a humorous, unattached clown in every situation. But this morning's dismissal has pushed you over that edge. You straightaway goaded him, claiming he doesn’t remember how to make it up to you, and all you got in response was his shock and being called “ridiculous” and “overdramatic.” Fun.

You were most certainly joking, if a bit caustically, when you said what you did. He could have taken it as a joke and laughed it off. He could have taken it as a threat and comforted you, said it was Jimin that used his room, and maybe kissed you. You already knew what had happened when you saw the girl, anyway. But this was probably the third time this situation had happened, this month. 

Sure, you are understanding and really do know Jimin and what all he gets up to, but is that really supposed to be such a given? Asking your boyfriend to hug you close and kiss your forehead when you discover a girl in his bed just as you were about to cuddle the lump of sheets thinking it was him, is not too much to expect, is it?

Granted, Seokjin has never been extremely expressive, but still. It feels like he’s consciously trying to keep you at a distance, these past few months.

You don’t have the complete grasp of the storm of thoughts in your head yet, but you want to try and explain it to Jackson the best you can. 

“It was about respect, in a way, I guess,” you quietly mumble, and Jackson turns the TV off, now sitting cross legged on the couch to face your chair. He puts away his takeout container to frown at you, probably gleaning how serious this is for you. “He stood there, without saying a single word, expecting me to stop being mad. Almost willing me to stop being mad by making these big, incredulous eyes at me. Like it was that horrible of his girlfriend to demand for an explanation when she found a girl in his bedroom. It was just the two of us, I wasn’t making a scene in front of anybody. He just—ugh! He could’ve simply asked me to not be mad, said it was Jimin who spent the night in the room and maybe even laughed about it, or plotted Jimin’s murder—I would’ve joined in—but no. He acted like I was being stupid, told me not be ridiculous and dramatic. And that made me feel really stupid.”

Jackson winces. “And why do you think you were not being stupid?”

You exhale. “I wasn’t. Because I wasn’t actually accusing him of anything, and five years down the lane, he should know that now. I just wanted him to say it and not scold me when I tease-taunted him. He always expects me to know everything. And even though I always do, it gets tiring sometimes. These weird thoughts get to you — that maybe you’re being too understanding and he’s using that to his advantage, you know?” You look down at your lap, playing with your nails. “It’s just…um. I wanted him to coddle me, I guess. To treat this as something big because I was throwing a tantrum about it and, just, I don’t know—try to cajole me? Assuage me with his words, maybe? But he didn’t. Because he hasn’t done that in forever. Because I never need him to, because I always freaking understand everything!” A sob leaves you.

Jackson pats the place next to him. “C’mere, you dumdum, and stop hyperventilating,” he mumbles, hugging you to his side when you move to sit on the couch. “I don’t exactly understand how the relationship dynamics work, but from what you told me, I get that you wanted attention? Some loving? And instead you got disappointed looks because Jin expected you to be mature and rational about it — the way you always are — and that too with his fucking eyes and some low-key insult words? Is it something like that?”

Wow, Jackson really paraphrased all that amazingly. “Yes, actually. It’s exactly that.”

Jackson sighs. “Y’all have been together a long time, babe, so I guess it’s kind of a given that you’d get to a no-bullshit point. Which is why he hasn’t done that in forever, because y’all probably don’t need that kinda stuff between you anymore.”

“I get that, it’s how a relationship matures. But I’m pretty certain that it’s not supposed to make me feel like this,” you sound slightly muffled, having stuffed your face into Jackson’s hoodie-covered chest. “I feel—I feel like we got too comfortable and now he’s just started to take me for granted. And I also feel like I’m being too needy. Am I being needy and annoying? He’d hate me if I told him all this, won’t he? Half of the reason we’ve worked out so well is because we’re both career oriented and don’t waste time overthinking stupid shit.” You gasp. “Oh, no—would he leave me? He’s used to his girlfriend being mature, not needy—”

You are cut off when Jackson pulls you away by your shoulders, giving you a serious look. “Wait, wait, stop. What did you say? Not the needy part, you’re allowed to be needy once in all the damn three-sixty-five days y’all stay busy for. The…taking you for granted part. Pretty big of a thing to say, babe.”

You sigh. “We haven’t been on an actual date in months. Seokjin thinks there’s no need for that extra effort when we spend lunch breaks at work together, everyday. Outside of the restaurant, our meetings involve our entire flock of friends by default. It’s been three months since we slept together.” You sniff, hating having to impart such a private detail of your life. “So no, I don’t think it’s that big of a thing to say, at all.”

“Wow.” Jackson gives a slow whistle. “You’ve really been bottling up a lot in there, huh?”

You shrug. “I guess. It never made me feel underappreciated, though. Sure, I was irritated at some occasions and disappointed at others, but… Today I feel horrible, Jax.”

“Did you share anything with Byulyi?” he asks, referring to your flatmate and good friend since college.

You shake your head. “She already has a lot on her plate, right now. She got rejected by the photographer she wanted to intern with, so it’s back to freelancing for her.”

“Yeah, that must suck.” Jackson grimaces. Then he looks at you. “You need to take a break, hun. Sit back, today, and have tacos and beer with me. Reset your inner thoughts. Talk to Jin tomorrow. Although, I must say, it’s kinda depressing that you have to actually tell your boyfriend that he’s being a bad boyfriend. Isn’t that kind of shit supposed to be realized on your own?”

You purse your lips. “I guess, yeah. But…don’t say that he’s being a bad boyfriend, Jax. I don’t think he even realizes something is wrong.”

“And that…doesn’t make it worse?” At your raised eyebrows, he concedes with a roll of his eyes. “Fine, fine, in any case — maybe try to hint at it before you dive straight in with the kill? See if he reacts?”

“I don’t know, Jax. What if he doesn’t? He’s really not the best at taking hints and reading signs, or that kind of subtle stuff.”

“Then you can just say your shit. All I’m saying is, give him a chance to figure it out on his own. He’s probably really clueless why you reacted so big on something so small, this morning. If you drop hints, maybe he’ll feel it out.”

You nod, somewhat amazed at how sound Jackson’s advice seems. “How are you doing this, Jax? Being a love guru all of a sudden?”

Jackson scoffs. “I’m just tryna put myself in Seokjin’s shoes. If I was in the situation he’s in, this is what I’d like to happen — be given a window to figure out what’s wrong. You’ve been together a long time, hun. It really shouldn’t be that difficult for him.”

You shrug a shoulder. “I won’t be too sure about that. Why does it even matter if he can or cannot, though?”

Jackson seems to be mulling over something before he drops his chin to his chest. “Because you’re supposed to be partners, hun. If you can tell what’s up with him with a single glance, why can't he? Not being good at taking signs is not a good enough excuse. My gut says that he’d be able to, though. And that knowledge will make you feel infinitely better, trust me. It’ll be reassuring to learn that he really knows and understands you well, won’t it?”

You nod, slowly, but you still have your suspicions. Seokjin has just been the kind of guy whose emotional depth goes to a certain extent and then just — well, stops. There are things that he feels and realizes and sees, and there are things that he doesn’t. It isn’t even something he does, you believe. It’s just how he is. Certain feelings just don’t fall in his orbit. And you’ve never found there to be anything wrong with it when he’s been an immaculately amazing boyfriend and tended to every single one of your needs, always. Well, you have never actually needed emotional consoling, too, so you haven’t had the chance to audition him for that. You keep yourself too busy for all that unnecessary mental pressure. It comes as a surprise, but you have never cried on Seokjin’s shoulder in all these years of your togetherness. You’ve kept your head straight and chin up, even during your college exams. And so has Seokjin, because you’ve never seen him cry, either.

Lately, though, things have been kind of weird. The gradual transformation into your professional lives that began after college, has been drastic in the past few months. Seokjin has been constantly prioritizing his career over you, and you have been understanding about it because you agree with it — to an extent. Seokjin believes it all the way through, though, and you have known for a while that you would hit your limit at some point, and would try to bring him back to yourself. Today morning, it seems, you hit that limit. 

You felt dispensable. 

You hate this feeling.

To be very honest, you know you can get over this. You can give it some time, remind yourself of how much your Jin loves you, believe that he is eventually going to come back to you once he settles, and be understanding about the entire thing. 

You can — but you really don’t want to.

Something tells you that this feeling of getting too comfortable will only fester and take a worse form as time goes by. You can wait it out, sure, and hope you aren’t being a pushover as he works on building his career. You are building your career, too, after all, and at least some of it has been for each other. 

The thing is, your plans with Seokjin are long-term—marriage, kids, white-picket fence, and all that. And you believe that if you are sensing a problem now, you better deal with it now before it has the chance to change its form and affect you both when you are at a more responsible point in your life.

Mind made up, you look up at Jackson, immediately grimacing when he forwards a greasy hand to pick up a taco for you. “I don’t…I don’t like tacos. And may I exchange the beer for scotch?”

“You work at a Mexican restaurant, and you don’t like tacos,” Jackson deadpans.

“They mess up my skincare.”

“Oh, fuck off! Have a spinach smoothie with a drink, why don’t you?”

You purse your lips to hold back your laughter at his ire, your own worries forgotten in the moment as Jackson gets up to get you a glass of scotch and some healthier snacking alternative.

“You're a dead man.”

Jimin stops dead in his tracks, arms frozen in the act of putting a t-shirt on. He blinks at Seokjin with big round eyes. “Hyung?” he mumbles, a picture of unblemished innocence, especially when he covers his toned torso with the oversized t-shirt he was in the process of getting into. “What—what’d I do?”

Someone who doesn’t know better would never believe that this young, innocent, frazzled haired fairy-boy could ever do any wrong. But Seokjin knows better. “You chaotic womanizer,” Seokjin nearly hisses, "you've gotta learn to clean after yourself. Honey found a girl in my bed. A girl—in my bed.”

Jimin had the decency to drop the innocent act. “Oh. Oh.”

Seokjin raises a brow. “Oh? That’s it?”

"Yeah, well, I clarified to her that it was a one time thing when we got to it. She was obviously expecting something more if she didn't leave when I told her to. Disappointed but not surprised." Jimin is frowning when he comes to sit down on the couch next to Seokjin. “Sorry you two had to see that. You clarified to Honey noona that I’d been the occupant of the room, though, right?” 

“I—what?” Seokjin scoffs. “Why would I even need to do that? She knows that already, obviously. She’s been seeing you for over five years, or have you forgotten?”

Jimin squints. “I mean…okay, fair point, I guess. Why’re you so worked up, then? Did something else happen, too? Where’s she, now?” Jimin looks around the living room as if looking for you.

Seokjin sighs. “Well, I couldn't really get much out before she was storming out of the damn house, altogether.”

Jimin blinks. “Storming out? Why? She… um, was she mad?"

Seokjin opens his mouth – and then shuts it. Was she mad, indeed. "I don't know. She looked kinda mad, yes. But maybe she was in a hurry?" 

"Why would she be mad? Did you try to call her? Text her? It's unlike her to react so big on something so small." Jimin bites down on his lip, looking lost in thought. 

Seokjin shakes his head. "She didn't pick up or text back."

“There’s definitely got to be an underlying reason for her being like this. Are you sure you guys haven’t been fighting, hyung?” 

Seokjin sighs. “Yes, Jimin, I’m absolutely certain that there hasn’t been any fighting of any sorts between the two of us before today.” He pauses. “Well, she was slightly irritated that I didn’t check her texts last night, but she knows I go to bed at eleven on days leading up to a shoot, so that one’s on her.”

Jimin looks genuinely concerned, which, in turn, makes Seokjin concerned. Jimin isn't the type to stress over stuff if he can help it. Sure, he cares about the boys and would always be down to do whatever he can for them, but his throwing-caution-to-the-wind way of life causes him to not take most of the things in life seriously.

You’ve been like an older sister to the boys ever since Seokjin started dating you and introduced you to them. They all have their ways of showing their respect and affection to you. Well, maybe not Jungkook because he can’t get over getting unnecessarily intimidated by Seokjin enough to relax around you. 

Jimin, especially, always seems to be affected by any tension in Seokjin’s relationship. Everyone can see how it upsets his entire life when you two are fighting, although he’d never admit to it. He doesn’t need to, because it’s pretty obvious when he becomes a cranky six-year-old who hates the world. 

Right now, he has a guilty frown on his face. "I should've seen to it that Suzette left before I went to shower," he mumbles as if talking to himself. “Shouldn’t have trusted her to leave just because I told her to.” He looks up at Seokjin with troubled eyes. "I'm sorry, hyung."

Seokjin can not believe himself when he shakes his head at Jimin's apology—this little demon causes so much chaos in all their lives that any apology coming from him should be justified and welcome. But this one isn't really on him. "It's not entirely your fault."

Jimin's demeanor changes a bit and the attitude Seokjin is used to witnessing makes an appearance. "Right? That's what I was thinking, too!" Jimin exclaims, some of the concern on his face lifting. "You have to talk to Honey noona and make things right, though, hyung. She’s the only womanly touch in our man cave. We’d all be barbarians without her.” Jimin looks very wary and kind of nervous.

“It’s funny you would crave her ‘womanly’ presence when she’s rushed off because of a woman that you brought home.” Seokjin scrunches his nose. "And I said it isn't entirely on you, because it is partially on you, Park Jimin. You borrowed my room to smoke up in. Why couldn't you take your Suzy back to your own room?"

"Suzette," Jimin corrects under his breath while shaking his head. "Yeah, I should've, but… your room just felt like a better choice during the high," he finishes in a mumble, dragging a hand down his face. “Hyung,” Jimin says with a pout on his lips, “the last time you two fought was two years ago, remember? On your birthday? When Hobi hyung dumped cake in noona’s hair and she had her first shoot for that bigshot magazine, the next day?”

Seokjin nods with a sigh. “She yelled at me for having stupid friends, and I yelled at her for caring more about the shoot that having a good time on my birthday. Yes, I remember.”

“And then she didn’t visit us for a whole week. Please don’t let that happen, again.” Jimin looks up at Seokjin with big, round eyes. “I can’t take that kind of unrest in my life."

Seokjin briefly wonders, if Jimin’s nightly conquests were to see this side of him, would they run in the opposite direction or be more attracted to him? Jimin definitely needs someone in his life that would bring out this side in him and stay to provide him the emotional comfort he requires when he gets like this. 

“I will try not to, Jiminie, but…” Seokjin shuts his eyes. “I seriously do not understand her actions from the morning,” he finishes in a mumble.

“Maybe she’s—maybe she’s worried about something else? Some other aspect of her life?” Jimin suggests with wide eyes. “And she’s just projecting onto you.”

“As sound as the explanation is, I am literally involved in ninety percent of the aspects in her life,” Seokjin says with a twist to his lips. “I would know if something was wrong anywhere.”

“That’s cocky of you to say,” Jimin snarkily comments with narrowed eyes. At Seokjin’s raised eyebrows, he amends, “That’s cocky of you to say, hyung-nim.”

Seokjin scoffs, but then he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s true. We work at the same restaurant, we’re scouted by the same agency. Even her agent is best friends with mine—she gossips a ton about how Honey passes up so many opportunities and pisses her agent off. Her friends are, well—” Seokjin stops short when it hits him. “Wang. Wang could know something!”

Jimin is looking at him skeptically when Seokjin meets the younger’s eyes. “I just think you should have a simple talk with noona first before digging around.”

That is sensible advice. Seokjin nods as he pulls his phone out.

“Just find out what’s been troubling her, hyung. You two are rational people, I’m sure you’ll work it out.” Jimin pauses to scratch the back of his head. “Just please don’t let this be another fight like that one?”

“Don’t worry,” Seokjin finally says with a pat on Jimin’s shoulder as he finishes sending off another text to you, “this one is nothing like that fight.”

Turns out, this fight really is not like that one. Or any other fights Seokjin has ever had with you, in fact, because you’re giving him the silent treatment. 

You’ve never given him the silent treatment. 

Not even when you were students and didn’t have a load of time on your hands and used to waste precious sleep hours arguing over stupid shit that would probably resolve itself if you just slept on it and looked back at it with a fresh state of mind. Not even then did you forego talking.

Needless to say, Seokjin is distressed.

You drive to the house to pick him up at your usual time, the next morning, after not having responded to any of his calls or texts for the entire day. Seokjin is aghast as he gets into the car.

“Honey! What is going on? Why didn’t you—where have you been?”

You simply start the engine and take off. “Busy,” you murmur after a while.

Soekjin’s head is close to exploding. “Busy? Doing what?”

Your face remains stoic as you weave through the morning traffic. Seokjin looks at you. You’re dressed up in your waitressing outfit that consists of a shirt, skirt and tights, and being who you are, Seokjin can proudly say that you would stand out to be the most well dressed server in the field. You’re always pristine and tidy — no accidents happen to you at the job ever. No spillage of drinks or ketchups, no soiled hands being wiped down on your skirt. Nothing even ruins your manicure. 

It is something that Seokjin has always tried to keep up with, this cleanliness streak of yours. Because he has always assumed you would expect it out of him, too. You were attracted to the cover model version of him, after all. It is quite natural that you would have those kinds of expectations. And Seokjin has always been more than happy to deliver. It has become a part of him, in fact. He doesn't even chew with his mouth open even when he's among the boys, anymore.

It has, somewhat, made him practical and less emotional in life, too, but he doesn't really think of it as a bad thing. You have always been practical in life – the most ambitious girl he has ever met, someone that has always prioritized her career and goals over everything else. Seokjin has admired that since college, and has tried to show you that he has similar priorities even if he has had to work on thinking from his mind more than his heart.

But when you are already by his side, what does he even need his heart for, anymore, when it's already yours?

Now, looking at you sitting with a morose expression on your face as you give him the cold shoulder, Seokjin is just as much in love with you as he was when he first met you.

“Stuff,” you say with a shrug, after some extended silence. “You should know about that, right? Your schedule’s always busier than mine and I never complain.”

Your sharp words have him reeling. Whatever do you even mean by that? “Uhm, okay. Fair enough. But… did you really not have the time to respond to a single text?”

“It gets impossible sometimes, Jin, you know how it is.”

Seokjin frowns. He does know that, but he doesn’t feel okay. Something is very off with you. It is as if you’re saying something else and expecting him to discern a different meaning out of it. 

He doesn’t understand why, though. You, of all people, should know how terrible he is at decoding signs.

He sighs.

Seokjin, after his conversation with Jimin yesterday, had decided to ask you about the morning’s incident, head on, whenever you called him back. But you didn’t, and this is the first opportunity he’s had to talk to you, so he decides to bring it up, now. “What—what happened yesterday morning, babe? You got really mad and stormed off, and… I mean, you’ve got to know the girl had been Jimin’s companion for the night, right? You know him, how he is!”

You say nothing, hands tightening a bit on the steering wheel. Seokjin looks down at his own hands.

“You know I was only surprised at your words because we really do not have the time to be discussing silly things." He shuts his heart down when it tries to tell him to go soft. He knows it isn't something you would appreciate. "After five years, you know what I’m capable of right? You can never start getting ideas, because that would be insane and stupid. I’m already so supremely occupied as it is between two jobs, when would I even have the time to cheat, right?” he jokes, snorting to himself.

You’re still quiet, but your tongue comes out to moisten your lips. It is a nervous tick of yours which Seokjin recognizes very well, because with your skincare and scheduled regular application of lip balms, your lips never need the extra moisture.

He frowns. Was he too straightforward? But this is exactly how you communicate with him! “Hey, is everything okay, babe?”

You exhale, noisily. “Everything’s fine, Jin,” you finally say with a roll of your eyes. “And you’re right. I know you wouldn’t cheat. You don’t have the time to chat me up, how are you gonna pick someone new to impress, huh?” 

Your snort sounds lacking in humor, but Seokjin still gives a couple of stilted chuckles. Even so, he's still somewhat relieved. “Right. Just so we’re certain, that was a joke, right? I mean, it would be really ridiculous of you to think that I would—”

“Yes, Jin!” you cut him off with a deep frown. “If I wanted to talk to you about something, or accuse you, or confront you — I’d do that without you having to prompt me. Stop obsessing over yesterday and stop trying to explain yourself. I know it was Jimin’s doing.”

Seokjin feels immensely relaxed at the conviction with which you say the last sentence, certainly, but something is still off. “Why were you ignoring me, then?”

“I just didn’t have anything to say to you.” You stop at a red light, the last one before you reach the restaurant, and turn to look at Seokjin with really vacant eyes. He doesn’t like your stare one bit. “We’ve been together five years, babe. If neither of us have got anything of significance to say, I’d rather not text too much, if that’s okay with you? I’ve got a busy schedule to work around, too, you know?”

Seokjin wants to remind you that both of you had something of significance to say after you left his place in anger, but chooses to just roll with whatever you’re playing at. Maybe he's thinking too much. He nods. “Sounds alright to me.”

“Great,” you breathe out, somehow looking disappointed along with the preexisting sorrowful expression you had on your face.

You really do not have a concrete explanation for why you acted the way you did with Seokjin, this morning. 

You were supposed to hint at being mad, not blatantly try to give him a taste of his own medicine. It could turn out to be a good thing if he eventually starts to miss you and reaches out, sure, but playing mind games never feels right to you. But when he started to joke about not having time to cheat, and something just turned off in you. He really could’ve seriously reassured you of his love. That would’ve been actually comforting. But no. He chose to joke about that, too. You didn’t feel like putting in all that energy anymore, after that.

Now, you sit down in the break room to check your phone during your ten minutes’ rest break. A text message floats at the top of your notifications.

Jax 🚽 Hey How’d it go?

With an exhale, you decide to call him back. Your fingers are too tired to type, and Jackson is sure to launch off into a rampage of texts the moment you tell him you’ve tried to turn the tables on Seokjin.

Seokjin is in the kitchen, his usual rest break not being for another hour, so you don’t have to worry about him walking in.

“Hey!” Jackson jovially greets you as soon as he picks the phone. “Did you get my text?”

“I did, yes,” you respond in a calm voice. “I’ve been looping milkshake mugs through my fingers since eight am, they needed some rest, so I decided to call.”

“Yeah, no, it’s cool. I was in a really boring class, anyway. So. How'd it go?"

You pull in your lip between your teeth. "I… I kinda ended up telling him I am a busy person too and that we shouldn’t text that much."

You hear silence instead of the outburst you'd expected. 

"Jax?"

"Are you actually gonna try to play a mind game with the dumbest human being you know on earth?" Jackson so very eloquently asks, his interpretation making you pinch the bridge of your nose. “He’s never even gonna figure it out!”

“I know how it sounds, okay?” You exhale. “I honestly don’t know what came over me.”

“Okay, alright, one thing at a time. So, no coddling?"

"Not a single soft word. Just more expectations of me understanding, and claiming that anything but that would be stupid of me. He acts like I'm supposed to know everything about him and everyone in his group of friends," you mutter in irritation. “As if those dumbasses know the first thing about themselves.”

You realize you're being a bit harsh, because his friends – basically your younger brothers, at this point – are a bunch of clueless idiots that love, adore and respect you. You shouldn't be badmouthing them, Seokjin’s growing callousness towards you isn't their doing. It's his own. 

You sigh. You really miss how things used to be when you were in college.

“Uh, I think we need to rewind a bit. What happened? What triggered this?”

It makes you smile a little when Jackson asks that. At least your best knows you’re not wholly clinically insane. “Well… I drove him to work. He…" your brows lower at the recollection, "he was the first to bring up yesterday morning. And yet again, he gave me the same you've got to know this and that crap, and then he tried to assure me in the dumbest possible way. Do you know what he said, Jax, do you?”

“Um, do I wanna know?”

“He said, and I quote, he doesn’t have the time to cheat. Jackson Wang, are you hearing this? He really straight up said he was too busy to cheat on me and so I should rest assured! Who says that?!”

“He must’ve meant it as a joke—”

“Yeah, he said that, too, and then very immaculately added that it’d be ridiculous of me to think otherwise. I have lost count of how many times the words ridiculous and stupid came up.”

“Goddammit.”

“Goddammit is right,” you mumble, morosely resting your head on your palm.

“What did he say, by the way? When you told him to text less?”

You give a wry chuckle. "Well, he said it sounded alright to him."

"Son of a bitch. You – you two are messed up, man. Messed up bad. Why the hell can you not just say shit you really mean and actually want to instead of saying shit you don't? You don't wanna text less because you're busy, you want him to dote on you because you miss him!" Jackson sounds beyond frustrated. "And it doesn't fucking sound alright to him! It sounds scary, it sounds confusing, it sounds like something you would never say to him!" He groans. "But none of you would say that shit to each other! You’re choosing to be evasive and fucking plastic instead of honest, and falling deeper into your mess."

You reel from the onslaught of his harsh words, eyes widened and breath stuttering. Jackson isn't usually the type to pay so much attention to your relationship problems. But this time, you guess, he has garnered the depth of your unhappiness and thus has gotten so involved.

You realize he is right. Nothing good can come out of any turned tables, because Seokjin is, anyways, not even going to be able to work out the problem by himself. He may even go around talking to his friends about how you were being cold with him and not giving him any time, and still not realize he has been doing the same to you. He is thick like that. 

When his friends tell you tales of his compassion, you're unable to relate. You've never seen that side of him. He has probably grown up from that emotionally overwhelmed high school graduate who had made friends on a whim, the night of his graduation.

You certainly don't appreciate the emotional abstinence, though, and would very much rather prefer if he would open up a bit more. It would help you be more open with him, without fearing him calling you "stupid" in response.

But it’s still alright, you accept him with that thick brain of his, because he’s still only ever going to be the only one for you.

"How are you two gonna get around to having a proper chat if you just keep building more walls between you both?" Jackson asks after the long pause from your end, this time softer. “I’m sorry, babe, I was wrong. Giving him signs and making him realize shit won’t work. It was stupid of me to suggest that. It’s probably why you ended up being so caustic with him.

“No, no, it was all me, Jax. I could’ve chosen to not listen to you, but my ego got in the way, I guess. It’s not exactly easy, telling your boyfriend you’re feeling neglected. I mean, what if he laughs in my face and tells me I’m being paranoid? What if he thinks I have no regard for his career — or mine — because my priorities don’t align with his?” You bite your lip, shutting your eyes as your insecurities attack you.

“Hey, no. None of that is gonna happen if you really share with him what you’ve been feeling. No hints, no sarcasm, you’re gonna have to tell him point blank. Allow yourself to be raw. He’s the love of your life. You don’t have to protect yourself from him, right?”

You sigh. “Yeah, I know. You’re absolutely right, Jax. But I really have no idea how to even approach him, at this point. He’s either too busy with shoots, or with the guys, or some meeting. I cannot do this on call, because that always leads to misunderstandings.” You bite down on your lower lip, contemplating. “But I’ll figure something out.”

"Yes, you will. You always do. So, that’s good then. In the meanwhile, can you at least clean up this latest pile of poop? The talking less thingy is gonna make you two more distant, hun."

You scrunch your nose at his metaphor, but then your shoulders slump. "I don't know, Jackson. The way he so impassively agreed to it would make me sound really stupid if I take it back. And given what he keeps saying, he really doesn’t want me to sound stupid."

Jackson gives a snort at that. “Hah, funny. But listen. At the end of the day, he’s your boyfriend. You're gonna have to really decide if you're trying to get your boyfriend to give you more love, or if you're fighting a battle of egos and would like to bend him to you."

You bite your lip. “You make me sound manipulative.”

“You yourself confessed you let your ego come into this, one time. Don’t let that happen again. I’m trying to make you realize that complicated problems can have simple solutions, too. If only you’d communicate. Just talk to him soon, please, and make him understand why you’re hurt. Don’t carry on with this stupid cold war, okay? You gotta figure out exactly what you want, first.”

“You know what I want, Jax. You’re literally the only person that does, actually,” you remind him with a sigh.

“Oh, he is, isn’t he?”

You freeze, eyes bulging at the familiar voice. “I’ll… I’ll call you back,” you mumble before you disconnect the call and turn to look over your shoulder at Seokjin’s unreadable face. He stands with his arms crossed, still in his uniform but without the apron. “Jin… what—uh…”

“What am I doing here?” he scoffs, lips curling in distaste as he stares you down. “Well, I was going to the loo when I saw you sitting here. You looked upset, so I thought I’d check in on you on my way back.” He clicks his tongue, a dry chuckle tumbling out. “But apparently, you’ve got other people doing it for you, already.”

You wince, shutting your eyes. The one time he was finally going to give you some much needed attention — you sent a bad message his way. 

“So. Good to know there actually is someone who knows what you want. Would’ve been easier if it were me, though, given how I stand to be the one that is to deliver.” Seokjin sounds pissed off, and despite your irritation, you really want to make him understand.

You rub at your forehead. “Stop talking like that, Jin, it was just Jackson.”

“Wang?” He seems to seethe more, for some reason. “Of course, it’s fucking Wang!”

You frown, standing up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Seokjin looks at you incredulously. “You—do you not see how this looks? You have problems with me, Honey, but you choose to discuss them with him? Who’s he, your therapist?”

“He’s my best friend, Jin, someone I trust,” you grit out.

Seokjin seems to take it the wrong way, his agitated expressions slowly fading into a blank stare. “Oh. You trust him, as opposed to…” He trails off with a shrug, but the implication is as obvious as it can be.

“Jin—”

He raises a hand up, palm facing you as he looks away. “If you need some time apart, you should tell me in plain words. You know I’m not good at reading signs.”

Seokjin gives you a blank stare before turning around to leave the area. You stand rooted to your place, jaw dropped and eyes wide.

Some time apart? Has he lost his mind? 

He really is a huge freaking idiot who cannot pause to think what implications his words have. He seriously doesn’t recognize what all his “don’t be ridiculous/overdramatic/stupid” speeches do to you. You realize you should really make him understand. This has gone on for way too long.

But maybe you should take some time to yourself to cool off before that. You don’t want to say the wrong thing in your rage and complicate things further.

You sigh to yourself as you slump back into the bench you were sat on before.

You’d set out to tell your boyfriend you were feeling neglected, but you ended up making him think you want to be apart. How the heck did you get here?

You belatedly recall Jackson's words.

Why the hell can you not just say shit you really mean and actually want to instead of saying shit you don't?

You’re choosing to be evasive and fucking plastic instead of honest, and falling deeper into your mess.

Your usually dumbheaded best friend was right on this one, you realize. You should’ve just talked like a normal human being instead of letting Seokjin’s words get to you and get pissy in retaliation.

You give a weary sigh. 

Seokjin is grateful for the sudden busyness he’s got on his schedule, or he would explode from all the pent up frustration you have been causing him. 

He realized he wasn’t as upset with you as he was irritated, right after he walked away from you on Monday. He dropped you a text with some excuse of needing to stay back so that he wasn’t forced to ride with you in the car again, and later took the bus home. 

You had told Jackson Wang about what was troubling you, but not him. It made Seokjin feel upset, incompetent and more than a little insecure. Seokjin absolutely hates feeling insecure. Especially about you. You’re the singular most precious entity in his life — not that you are an entity, per se — and anything that seeks to threaten your position in his life or his position in yours, makes him lose his shit.

So it was understandable that he jumped to unfairly disproportionate magnitudes of conclusions that day. When he thought about it, later, he could easily tell that you are just mad at him and not actually contemplating leaving him, not even for a little while. Not that he’d just sit back and have you do that so easily.

Seokjin also hates overthinking, but that is all he did for the entirety of his Monday. 

Monday, though, was the last time he had time to overthink. Life got exponentially busier after that.

Immediately after his shoot on Tuesday, he received his agent’s call and was informed of his jam packed schedule for the remainder of the week. He was pulled into two separate magazine ad shoots on Wednesday, a perfume ad film drank up all of his Thursday, and today, a hair product ad film needed him to report to a sunrise point in the city at the ass-crack of dawn. The sky was still dark when he rode across the city with his agent at nearly four in the morning. 

And now, the afternoon sun beats down on his car as he drives back alone, his agent staying back to tend to some business. Stopping at a red light, he reaches for his spinach smoothie with one hand and his phone with the other. Ugh, he feels beyond tired.

Blearily, he looks down at the device around a yawn, fingers habitually reaching for your chat.

He took a week off from the restaurant and dropped you a text, late Tuesday evening, informing you of the same.

Honey✨❤👸 Hm, kay. Good luck x

Unsurprisingly, that stands to be your last message in his inbox. It’s been four days.

Sighing, he swipes a hand down his tired face and exits out of the message app. He went to bed at nine o’clock, last night, and owing to the way he has trained his body to sleep on command, he did manage to get a sleep of nearly six hours, too. But it was fitful and plagued with nightmares featuring you. 

Knowing he doesn't have to be at the restaurant until Monday and that his next gig isn’t until Wednesday, he cannot wait to get back home and drink his weight in alcohol before he sleeps his way through the weekend.

Just as he has moved past the intersection, his phone rings. 

Honey✨❤👸 calling...

He nearly spits the smoothie he just sipped at.

Coughing, he roughly jostles the plastic cup back in the holder and pulls up to a side of the road to pick up the call. “Hey,” he breathes into the phone, embarrassed at his desperation.

“Jin. Um, hi.” You sound awkward, as if you…have been compelled to call him due to some reason.

He is immediately worried. “Honey? Is everything okay, do you need something?”

He hates himself for being so concerned when you have been neglecting him for so many days – yet again, despite your spat at the restaurant – instead of finally talking to him about what’s bothering you, but he can’t help it. At the end of the day, you are the love of his life. 

“Yes, yes, I’m okay. It’s just, um. Can you pick me up from the restaurant?” you sound nervous.

But, Seokjin realizes, I was right. You do need something. He clears his throat. “Uh, okay, I guess,” he agrees before stopping short when he realizes the time. “Wait, it’s barely even two. Why are you leaving?” he asks, confused and a little concerned. You work your shift till five every day and till eight on weekends.

“Tomorrow is Halloween, Jin. We’re closing for the weekend, remember?”

Seokjin’s mouth falls open on a gasp. He really had forgotten. “Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah, I’ll be there in five, wait up.”

He swerves the car into the lane and takes off in the direction of the restaurant. 

He laughs at himself. He has been so caught up in work that he literally forgot Halloween. He wonders if this is what actual adulting is.

He is stopping before the restaurant within three minutes of your phone call, eyes immediately spotting your delicate figure standing on the sidewalk with your hands crossed against your chest.

You step down from the curb when you spot his car, and walk towards him. He watches your elegant legs as they beautifully fall in a straight line. Even when exiting your job as a waitress, you’re every bit the elegant model he met in college. Your hips sway tantalizingly, and something akin to longing swirls in his chest.

He composes himself quickly when you cross the car to get into the passenger’s seat. You awkwardly clear your throat as Seokjin busies himself with starting the vehicle, unsure if he should initiate conversation.

“Um, sorry about this. You were probably getting ready for shoot,” you finally say. “Byulyi dropped me off today. She wasn’t picking her phone up. I was trying to get a cab for half an hour. And the bus stop’s really far—”

“Hey, stop. It’s okay. You should’ve called me sooner.” Seokjin catches your apprehensive gaze on his oversized hoodie when he chances a glance at you. He sighs. “I was returning home from shoot, actually.”

He feels you stiffen, and he feels even more mentally drained at this. You used to be updated with his schedule to the tee — just short of having an actual copy of the calendar his agent carries on him. And the same goes for him with your schedule. This feels so wrong.

You are quiet for a while, your hands fidgeting in his peripheral vision.

“How—how was it?” you finally say, voice coming out like a croak.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “The usual. Blinding, tiring, exhaustive. I did okay, I guess.”

He feels your gaze snap up to drill holes into his skull. Your eyes are wide when he checks. “Okay? Since when do you do anything less than amazing at shoots, babe?”

He feels endeared at your casual use of a pet name. “I had to get up at three in the morning and go through a skincare routine. Then drive across the entire city to get to the location, because they wanted to capture actual sunrise. I was more tired than excited by the time they rolled cameras, so.” He shrugs. “Can’t really say I gave my best today.”

You nod at his admission. 

Seokjin almost jumps when his phone rings, again.

Jiminie calling...

He feels you shift in your seat. His mouth sours at the reminder of that Sue girl that started off this entire tussle between you and him. Fucking Jimin and his conquests. What happened to the shy and more than a little glum looking freshman he let into his living space, three years ago?

Your hand suddenly reaches forth to accept the call, putting it on loudspeaker, immediately. Seokjin gapes at you, momentarily looking away from the road. 

“Uh…hyung?” Jimin’s confused voice echoes in the car. 

Seokjin snaps out of his daze when you gesture towards the device. “Wh—Jimin, hi, what’s — what’s up?” he stumbles his way through a haphazard greeting.

“Hyung, I needed a favor. Are you on your way back from the shoot, right now?” Jimin asks, and Seokjin sees you freeze in your seat.

He feels a perverse sense of satisfaction. Yes, take that! Park Jmin knows of my schedule better than you do! This is what you get for ghosting me! “I was, yeah. What is it?”

“Oh, great! I kinda need your help, hyung. My tire gave out. Could you pick me up from the Kappa hall?”

Seokjin scowls. “Yah! Who am I, your butler? Hop on a damn bus!”

He notices you pursing your lips, no doubt finding his agitation humorous — you always do. 

“Hyu~ng,” Jimin whines. “I would take the bus, but the next one leaves in forty-five minutes and I need to be back within an hour!”

“What? Why?”

“I started on my sem project really late, hyung, and now I gotta spend any time I can spare at the rehearsal hall. I’m meeting a choreographer here in an hour. Please help me out!” Jimin is still whining, and maybe his reasoning is kind of alright, but—

Seokjin is tired to his bones. He literally cannot drive all the way down to your apartment and then drive back to the university campus to pick Jimin up.

He sighs, wearily. “Jimin… I’m really tired.” 

“And I’m really desperate, hyung! Dancing is tough! And the subject I've chosen, tougher. I haven't done ballet since first semester, Freshman year! I have to work my butt off and be done in under two months."

Seokjin exhales, feeling beyond exhausted. But then your finger is tapping on the screen and the call has been muted. Seokjin’s surprised eyes fly up to meet yours. You look conflicted, biting down on your lower lip as you shake your head with a frown.

“You should go home and rest, Jin. Leave the car with me, I’ll pick him up.”

“Hyung? Say something?”

Seokjin blinks. “You…”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll pick him up, yeah. He’ll drop me off and drive back to your place.”

“Hyung?! Did you put me on mute, or what? I can't hear a thing!”

“Tell him you’ll be there in ten!” you say, unmuting the call.

“I’m in the car, the network must have glitched. I’ll, uh… be there in ten?” Seokjin nervously finishes off, looking at you in question. You give him a nod, blinking slowly. “Wait up, okay?”

“Oh my God, thank you so much, hyung!” Jimin practically squeals through the phone. “I’ll be in the ice cream shop across the building. I love you, hyung-nim!”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and disconnects the call. He looks at you from the corner of his eyes as he takes a right, now moving in the direction of his apartment instead of yours. “You sure about this? Jimin, um, knows. About our…” Seokjin doesn’t want to call it the f-word, because he would like to believe that you two aren’t actually fighting. “You being upset, I mean,” he settles for the easier alternative. “He might ask questions.”

You give a small huff of wry laugh. “I can handle it, Seokjin. I’ve known Jimin for almost three years now.”

Seokjin doesn’t like it when you address him by his full name. And so, his lips remain pursed for the remainder of the ride, only parting to tell you to “drive safe and text me when you finally get home,” and then he walks inside his apartment without looking back.

He hears his car come to life and then speed away. He shuts his eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter. Gathering his emotional as well as physical bearings, he opens the refrigerator to rummage through some leftovers to munch on while he breaks out a six pack of Budweiser. 

Before his fried rice has even reheated, Seokjin groans at the sight of an all too jovial Hoseok entering the kitchen with a glint in his eyes. “No, Hobi. Not now.”

“What? I didn’t say a word, hyung!”

Seokjin winces, shutting his eyes just as the microwave beeps. “I don’t have enough energy to deal with your general aura, right now,” he mumbles, extracting the piping hot glass bowl. He leans down to open one of the compartments beneath the kitchen table to get to the beer that he’s been dreaming of for nearly an hour, now. “I’m dead on my feet and—woah!” Seokjin gasps, cutting himself off.

Hoseok hops into the kitchen, coming around to stand behind Seokjin. “So you found ’em,” he says around a chuckle.

“Found ’em? This is you?” Seokjin whips his head around to glare at Hoseok up from his crouch. “Why is my liquor closet resembling a liquor shop, Hobi? Why do we have all this—” he turns around to read the labels, cursing under his breath. “Why do we have,” he pauses to count, “five bottles of Tequila and eight bottles of Vodka?”

Hoseok frowns in concern. “Eight? There should be ten, hyung, check again.”

Seokjin actually gasps, this time. “What the hell, Jung Hoseok? Explain yourself before I start throwing hands!”

Hoseok smacks a palm against his forehead, taking Seokjin by surprise, yet again. “Tonight’s the Halloween party, hyung! Did you actually forget?”

Seokjin screws his eyes shut, letting his head roll back with a frustrated whine. “No~o, don’t tell me it's tonight. Halloween’s tomorrow, right? Why is the party tonight?”

“Yes, hyung, Halloween in tomorrow, which is why it would be stupid to hold the party when Halloween is ending.”

Seokjin finds the logic to be very severely flawed, but his energy is draining out fast and he cannot keep up with this quarrel. There’s no point, anyway. He’s known about this party for nearly a month. And Hoseok isn’t going to postpone a whole party just because Seokjin is tired.

“You look tired, hyung. You should rest. Recharge yourself before the party, okay? There’s plenty of time.” Hoseok pats Seokjin on the shoulder with a kind smile.

“I’m not even in the mood to party, Hobi,” Seokjin mutters, reaching behind all the glass bottles to extract his pack of cans. 

Hoseok scowls at Seokjin. “Because you’re upset about your fight, I realize that. All the more reason to party, hyung! Take your mind off it for some time, why don’t you? You don’t even have to dress up, come as yourself.”

“I’d rather just drink myself to sleep and not wake up for the next twenty four hours.”

Hoseok blocks his path as Seokjin moves to exit the kitchen. “Is Honey coming?”

Seokjin sighs, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, Hobi. Did you invite her?”

“No, hyung, because you said you would.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue. He completely forgot. “Then she isn’t coming.”

Without listening to his protests, Seokjin trudges upstairs with his food and beer. He will be forced to come down for at least a couple shots, he is certain, so he better make as much of the time he has on his hands as he can.

These days, it seems to be becoming a pattern for you to do things without really understanding why you do them. 

You nibble at your bottom lip as you recall how gaunt and pale Seokjin had looked when you sat in the car. You had been really self-centered as it is, not really keeping in touch with him for four days, and then reaching out when you needed help. You couldn’t bear to think, on top of everything, that he had driven you home despite his extreme exhaustion while you sat back selfishly and let him drive around the city to pick Jimin up when he looked like a ghost.

You shake your head at yourself as Jimin jogs down the road to enter the car, ten seconds after you texted him. 

His gaze is slightly hesitant when he meets your eyes, even though his smile is nothing but genuine. “Hello, noona. How come you are…” he trails off, gesturing around the two of you.

You start the car, shrugging one shoulder. “Seokjin came to pick me up. Now you’re gonna drop me off.”

Jimin gives you a huge smile, before his eyebrows suddenly lower. You look away, veering onto the road. “Wait. Were you in the car with him when I called?”

You chuckle. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Jimin mumbles around a small laugh.

You hum to yourself as you drive, distracting yourself from the thoughts that keep encircling your head. Seokjin is your boyfriend, no matter how mad you might be at him — you love him and care about him. Which is why you have tried to help him out. Not to mention, you felt slightly guilty, as it is, about calling him to pick you up. Why is your gesture of goodwill bothering you, then?

This is what you do for people you care about. Seokjin would do the same.

Your train of thoughts suddenly comes to a screeching halt.

Would he? Would he, really?

“You okay, noona?”

You jolt back from your thoughts, wide eyes turning to look at Jimin. “Wha—yes, yeah, I'm fine.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “You’re gripping the wheel really hard.”

You look at your tightly clenched fists, and immediately ease them. “Oh, uh. Sorry. A lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Understandably,” Jimin mutters, looking out of the side window when you turn to look at him.

You purse your lips and press down on the accelerator. 

A few beats of silence pass between you two before Jimin clears his throat. “Can I say something?” he asks you in a soft voice, looking nothing like the seductive persona he puts forth to get ladies falling in his bed. 

You exhale. “Sure.”

“You, um. You are not just hyung’s girlfriend, you know?” he says slowly.

You scoff. “Of course, I do. I am also the very best server my restaurant has ever seen and the best struggling model you’ll ever meet, on the side.”

Jimin snorts, before giggling with his eyes closed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You do. But you do not want to face it. You want to be selfish, for once. You do absolutely know that you have been ignoring all the boys in your anger at Seokjin, but you absolutely do not wish to do anything about it. Not until you’ve resolved this tense air between you and Seokjin.

“You are also a part of our little family,” Jimin quietly finishes.

You suck your lips in at that. The word “family'' really gets to you. 

He’s right, isn’t he? 

All eight of you — well, nine, now, with the addition of Taehyung’s girlfriend — have been a family since the day you met these guys.

You smile as the memories start to filter in.

You had had a giant crush on Seokjin since the very first time you saw him in your Freshman year. Well, having a crush on the guy wasn’t that unheard of given how handsome he was. It also helped matters that he modelled for the cover page of your university’s journal within his first month in college. What surprised you was his reciprocated interest when you both finally got to know each other, thanks to Byulyi. Your current roommate was majoring in photography back then, and somehow roped the two of you into modelling for her portfolio. Seokjin asked you out during the sixth month of your Freshman year.

You recall being introduced to Yoongi in your Sophomore year, when he entered your college as a Music major. You found him laid back, calm but really sassy, and fun to be around. The three of you often hung out together, and you took immense pleasure in singling Seokjin out with the two of your sarcastic back and forths.

In your senior year, Hoseok transferred to your college as a Sophomore, and Taehyung and Jimin entered as Freshmen. 

Hoseok was literally the most lively person you’d ever met in your life. There wasn’t a single moment of boredom next to him. He was easily given the responsibility of planning all your outings and parties, henceforth — a position he still holds with full competence.

Taehyung was usually found to be lost in his head more often than not in his initial college days. He was confused about his major for two entire semesters. With inputs from the group, when he eventually picked Art, he eased into college life. After that, he came out to be one of the weirdest and unwittingly funny guys in the group. You still don’t get how he was the first amongst all the boys to find him a girl.

Jimin was a really quiet and reserved individual, at first. He very rarely interacted with you all, choosing to stay holed up in his dorm room, instead, that Taehyung had forced him to share with him. You suspected he was recovering from a recent heartbreak. It became evident when he started dating someone within a week of getting into college, only to confess it was a rebound when he got dumped. The whoring around that began after the whole debacle is yet to cease, though. Obviously. 

Hoseok comes from a really well-off family, and had brought along with him the four-bedroom apartment he currently resides in with Yoongi, Jimin and your boyfriend. His uncle gave it away to him, rent-free of course, and he proposed to share it with the rest of the guys. Seokjin and Yoongi were immediately on board, more than eager to leave the chaotic dorm life behind. Taehyung, contrarily, decided he wanted to get the whole college experience and refused to quit the dorms. Jimin, then, left the dorm he shared with Taehyung to move in with the elders.

You met Jungkook immediately after your graduation on the boy’s eighteenth birthday. He instantly struck you as a smart kid, really good at singing as well as art. Yoongi disclosed he wanted to be a music major in your college, and you tried to encourage Jungkook about it, but the guy could hardly even look at you. It was cute but also hilarious how much he was scared of Seokjin, and by principle, you.

You believe that is still true. Now that you think about it, you're pretty sure you haven’t seen Jungkook ever actually relax around the two of you.

“Noona?”

You blink, coming back to the present as Jimin calls out to you. You take a deep breath, the memories hitting you with tender emotions. All these people are really precious to you, aren’t they? The bunch of you really are a family, aren’t you?

A sad smile swims up to your face. You miss the boys.

When he calls again, you turn to look at Jimin, questioningly. 

“Please don’t be mad at hyung,” he slowly says, looking down at his lap. In this moment, he looks quite unlike the Jimin you are used to and reminds you of, instead, the one you’d first met. “He might lack tact, sometimes, but he really loves you a lot. You’re his whole world. Whatever it is that you are angry about, you should tell him about it. I don’t think he would be able to figure it out by himself.”

This, you agree with. “I’ll try, Jiminie.”

“We all miss you. Especially Hobi hyung and I,” he says with a lopsided excuse of a smile. 

You resist the urge to fluff his hair. Jimin and Hoseok have been like the younger brothers you never had. You miss them, too. 

He suddenly chuckles. "And Yoongi hyung hides it well, but I think he's the one that misses you the most. No one helps him roast Jin hyung quite like you do."

You roll your eyes. "Of course not. It's a waste for Yoongi to even try to find a better partner at roasting Jin."

You spot your apartment building and pull up to it. 

“I’ll try to talk to Jin as soon as I can, Jimin, I promise. Don't worry so much about it,” you say as you step out, patting the boy once on his head. "I miss you all, too."

You give a small wave and faint smile to him as he drives away.

tagging: @shrimpmsg​

note: so! a lil bit of backstory and the infamous halloween party - how we feelin’ so far? the next part is ~12k words, too, and i’ll post it next wednesday, wait around~ 😘💕

SECOND PART OUT NOW: read here!

© jimilter | 2021

[cuuno-moved]

did you ever finish the oc story? i love them a lot

oh fuck, i did!

here:

It was Acamar's idea, of course.

It had been so excited about it, insisting on surprising the other two, and refusing to tell them what the big surprise was.

Rose had been less than optimistic.

"Being lured by a strange adult in a mask into the woods," He muttered bitterly. "Sounds fun."

"It's a veil, not a mask," Acamar said, its voice deep and grating and endlessly patient. "And I'm no stranger than you."

"Besides, what better things do you have to be doing?" Cilantro hissed by his side, and he jolted a little as the rodent slipped into pace with him. "You say you have been spending too much time inside, yes?"

"I could have messaged Noel. Or Glyphie and Cal. Hell, I could have just gone on a walk alone."

"But they cannot provide you with this much joy," Cilantro muttered, with what sounded like a rare hint of sarcasm. "An hour in the woods and you haven't stopped whining. Whine whine whine."

Rose opened his mouth to argue, but Acamar raised a hand, stopping dead in its tracks. "We're here."

Here looked to be a tiny clearing, with a campfire and a table with three chairs in the center. On the table was a little wooden case.

"Let me guess," Rose said, dryly. "There's a decapitated head in the case."

"No," Acamar sighed, exasperated. "It's a tea set. We're here for a tea party."

"I don't like tea," Declared Cilantro. "May I go home?"

"No," Snapped Acamar, grabbing the back of Cilantro's cape with one hand and Rose's hand with the other. "Let's go. Tea party time."

It sat them down at the table, daintily opening the tea set. It was lovely, very clearly Dawnish in origin, with elegant gold details on the cream colored set. Rose found himself impressed, despite his best efforts to be unmoved.

Cilantro seemed to feel the same. "Honeybee, how much did this cost you?"

"Oh, not much," Acamar shrugged, obviously lying. "It was just lying around, I'd figured I'd put it to good use."

It lit the campfire, setting a golden kettle over it and brought out a bottle of water, making a show of pouring it in.

Cilantro and Rose made eye contact.

"Mid life crisis." Rose mouthed.

"Senile." Cilantro breathed in the same second.

Acamar glanced at them, obviously having heard them, but it did nothing about it. What could it even say? It was more than twice Rose's age, and while they weren't exactly sure how old Cilantro was, it was likely a good bit older.

"So, what kind of tea do you guys want?" It rumbled, clapping its hands, although its gloves all but muted the gesture. "I've got green, black, chai, herbal…"

"Have you, by chance, any lettuce?" Cilantro asked.

"Lettuce… lettuce tea?"

"Yes."

Acamar looked between Cilantro and Rose, who shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "Um. No I don't think I do."

"Shame. I'll see myself out." Cilantro began to rise, but was grabbed by the cloak by Rose.

"I think the fuck not," The human snapped. "It's family time."

"Family?" The rodent spit the word like a slur. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Family is when there's a group of people who are usually related -" Acamar began, but was cut off by Cilantro practically hissing at it.

"I know what a family is, you stupid imbecile. I meant what Rosalyn meant by calling us a family."

"Well, it makes sense. Acamar is the dad. I'm it's kid. You're our pet rat-"

"-I am not a rat-"

"-Rose, be nice-"

"-I was joking, I was joking," Rose said, then, quietly: "Kinda."

"Wait, you see me as a father figure?" Acamar said, flattered, taking the kettle from the fire. "That's awfully sweet of you."

"Well," Rose shrugged. "I mean, it's whatever."

Cilantro huffed. "I am not a rat."

"Okay, you're my sibling then."

"I don't wish to be your sibling," Cilantro said, firmly. "I wish to be disconnected from this inane house play."

"Too late," Acamar said, removing the whistling kettle from the fire. "I'm your father now."

Cilantro's tail thrashed unhappily, but the rodent didn't say anything as Acamar poured some water into a tea pot.

"I'm just going to make some green tea, if either of you want anything different-"

"Wait, I want chai-" Rose said, abruptly.

"-You can keep your mouths shut." Acamar finished. "We just need to let this brew for a few minutes."

"Have you brought any grain?" Cilantro said, teeth clicking as bulging yellow eyes searched the table. "As a snack."

"Yes, I do. A bag of barley for you, a box of biscuits for me and a tub of raspberries for Rose."

"You really thought of everything, didn't you?" Rose said, impressed.

"Well, it is a special occasion."

Immediately both Rose and Cilantro froze, staring at each other. A special occasion? Surely it couldn't be Acamar's birthday, that was in the Autumn.

Right?

"You've forgotten, haven't you," Acamar says, and it doesn't sound disappointed or even surprised. "Both of you."

"Happy-" Cilantro starts, before falling silent again. "Merry-?"

Acamar laughs, pouring the tea into their cups, adding a dash of cream and a single sugar to its own. "Think hard. What is it today?"

"It's… Tuesday?" Rose asks.

"Wrong, it's Wednesday. What else?"

"It's… August 3rd?"

"And what happens next week?"

"Goblin City school starts?" Rose guessed.

"And what did we do last year to celebrate your last week of Summer?"

Rose snapped, sitting upright. "We went to the river bank in Sanctuary and found Cilantro."

Cilantro looked up from lapping at the tea like a dog to blink at them. "Me?"

"Cilantro, it's your birthday!" Rose beamed at his friend, who's nose twitched in confusion.

"It is not, my birthday is in the month of May-"

"It's the anniversary of us finding you," Acamar said, softly. "It's your… your found day."

"I was found before then," Cilantro mutters, but both of them spot the blush crawling up furry cheeks. "I do not need coddling."

"Let us celebrate," Rose said, exasperated. "You've made the last year a hell and a half, you owe us."

"Well here is not where I want to be either-!"

Acamar leaned in, pressing it's lower face to the top of Cilantro's head with an audible "Mwah!" and the rodent's mouth snapped shut.

"We're happy you're here," Acamar said, softly, gathering Cilantro in its arms and squeezing. "Thank you for everything."

Rose stood too, rubbing his knuckles against Cilantro's head and laughing as he was snapped at. "Yeah, for real. You really do mean a lot to us."

Cilantro blushed a little deeper, muttering something in Spanish and wiggling halfheartedly, but ended up giving in.

[stolen-pen-name23]

Hi! Could you do 7 or 21 of the angst prompts for Obi Wan and Ahsoka please?

Hi! Thank you for the prompt (from these prompts)!! And yes, I can do both actually! Here ya go:

---

“You are so stupid.”

The words are dry — at least, Ahsoka hopes they are dry enough to hide the very real fear lingering behind them.

“Thanks,” Obi-Wan says between clenched teeth, obviously not hearing the full emotion behind Ahsoka’s sentiment. He is sitting across from her in the co-pilot’s chair — a bundle of bloodstained robes and tightened shoulders as he breathes through the pain. She shoots him another glare while she digs through the medkit, searching for a set of tweezers.

“Going after a bounty hunter who was carrying a slugthrower,” Ahsoka mutters. “What were you thinking?”

“Well, I—”

“No, don’t answer that,” Ahsoka says, raising her hand. “I already have the answer. You weren’t thinking.”

“Now hold on,” Obi-Wan pants. “We couldn’t let them capture the senator now, could we? We had a mission.”

“Yeah, and you made me stay behind and guard the other senators.”

“It was a very important task,” he says defensively.

“You made me their babysitter because you knew that going after Bane was dangerous. You knew and you went anyway.”

“To be fair,” Obi-Wan says, “he’s never used slugthrowers before.”

“And so what? You didn’t think he’d actually use it on you?”

“I was cautiously optimistic.”

“Look where that got you,” Ahsoka says, shaking her head. She continues rifling through the medkit until she finally finds a set of tweezers and a small scalpel. Obi-Wan eyes both items warily.

“I need to get a better look at the wound before I do anything,” Ahsoka says, trying to keep him calm, despite her current anger at him.

“Alright,” he nods, looking like he’s trying to reassure himself.

Ahsoka cuts through the fabric of his tunics and his undershirts and pulls them away. Underneath, a circular wound mars Obi-Wan’s skin. His muscles are tight, instinctively clenching in a vain attempt to ward off the pain.

“Hmmm.”

“What?” Obi-Wan asks.

“I have good news and bad news.”

“Do share.”

“The bad news is the bullet didn’t go all the way through. The good news is that it looks like it didn’t go too deep, so it shouldn’t be too hard for me to get it out. I won’t be needing this.” She sets the scalpel aside.

“Well, as long as there’s good news,” Obi-Wan sighs. “Though I suppose there was never a silver lining without a dark cloud behind it.”

“No, I suppose not,” Ahsoka says, offering him a sympathetic smile. “I need to get this out. You’ll get an infection if I don’t.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan says, resigned. “Let’s just get on with it then.”

Ahsoka takes a deep breath and relies on the Force to steady her hand. She presses the tweezers into the wound. A harsh breath escapes Obi-Wan’s lips, but he does not cry out. Ahsoka takes that as a sign to keep going. She pinches the bullet between the tweezers, but she slips and digs the metal deeper into the torn-up flesh.

Obi-Wan gasps and pulls away from Ahsoka.

“Sorry!” Ahsoka exclaims.

“It’s alright,” Obi-Wan pants, blinking back tears that had pooled in his eyes on reflex. “Just keep going.”

Ahsoka nods and goes back in with the tweezers, but Obi-Wan flinches back. Ahsoka tries again, and he recoils to the side.

“Stop that. Hold still,” Ahsoka says, exasperated.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m just not used to this kind of wound”

“Yeah well… that’s what happens when you go after a bounty hunter who is openly wielding a slugthrower.”

“Alright, I get it,” Obi-Wan says, deflating slightly.

“I don’t think you do,” Ahsoka grimaces. “Now for real this time. Stay still.”

Obi-Wan nods tightly, while Ahsoka hones back in on the wound. She gets the tweezers around the bullet once more, and this time, they don’t slip. Slowly, she maneuvers the bullet out of Obi-Wan’s flesh until it clatters on the floor with a metallic ringing sound.

Ahsoka stares, frozen in place as the wound bleeds openly. Obi-Wan’s blood runs down his side now that there is no bullet to dam up its path.

“Oh,” Ahsoka says dumbly. “I always forget that slugthrower wounds don’t cauterize.”

“Yes, well, they don’t,” Obi-Wan says. Ahsoka glares at him. “Go get a needle and thread, I’ll put pressure on it.”

Ahsoka hands him a semi-clean rag and he presses it to his stomach. His breaths become a little more ragged.

“Hang in there Master,” Ahsoka says as she finds a sewing kit. She measures out a length of thread and cuts it. The eye of the needle is tiny and she struggles to get the thread to go through it.

“Maybe we should have prepared the needle before we took out the bullet,” Obi-Wan observes dryly.

“Why didn’t you tell me to do that?” Ahsoka asks, her voice going higher in pitch as she desperately tries to thread the needle.

“I was preoccupied, you know, with being shot.”

“That is your own kriffing fault and you know it,” Ahsoka retaliates.

Ahsoka calls on the Force to steady her hand once again. Finally, the thread obeys her commands and pushes through the eye of the needle. With deft fingers, she ties it off.

“Ready?”

From his tight nod, it is clear that Obi-Wan is not ready, but he knows as well as she does that there is little time for hesitation.

“Alright,” Ahsoka says, trying to keep her voice sure and even. “I’ll be quick.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan says.

Ahsoka is true to her word. She finishes the stitches in a manner of a few minutes. By the end of it, Obi-Wan is pale and sweating, but gratitude shines in his eyes.

“Done,” Ahsoka says after she ties off the end of the thread.

“Thank you Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan says. “I’ll be sure to come to you the next time I’m shot.”

“You’re impossible. Absolutely impossible. You know that right?”

“Well, Anakin is actually—”

“I’m not talking about Anakin, I’m talking about you,” Ahsoka huffs, suddenly feeling irked by Obi-Wan’s casualness. Now that he has been stitched back together, she has time to feel the anger starting to flood her bloodstream.

“Ahsoka…”

“Everyone thinks Anakin is the reckless one, and maybe he is, but when he’s not around to be the reckless one… Well, it’s like you don’t care if you live or you die.”

Obi-Wan looks down at his bloodstained hands. “Of course I care.”

She stops messing with the medkit and looks Obi-Wan dead in the eyes. “Then why are you always so reckless huh? Do you ever think about what would happen if something happened to you?”

“Life would go on without me, Ahsoka. If it’s the will of the Force…”

“Do not bring ‘the will of the Force’ into this. I’m talking about when you pull stunts like this.”

Obi-Wan is silent — the smooth-talking negotiator finally at a loss for words.

“Master,” Ahsoka says quietly. “If you died… I would be devastated.”

“Ahsoka…”

She doesn’t let him continue. “My feelings aside, think about Anakin. Do you know what would happen to him if he lost you? I can’t watch him go through that for a second time.”

Obi-Wan pales and Ahsoka isn’t sure if it’s from the blood loss or the words she is mercilessly volleying at him. She continues anyway.

“It would almost be worse than losing you. I know how to let go, but he… I don’t know what he would do if he lost you. He can’t… that can’t happen again.”

“I want to tell you it won’t.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t,” he says, his jaw tight with either pain or sorrow. Perhaps both.

“Please, just…”

“No. I will not make you a promise I can’t keep. Not while we’re in a war. Not ever.”

“Then promise me something else,” Ahsoka insists, grabbing his hand in hers and looking him directly in his ocean blue eyes.

He looks at her wearily. “What?”

“Promise you’ll stop being so reckless,”

“What did I just say about making promises I can’t keep?” Obi-Wan grins. Ahsoka lightly smacks his shoulder.

“Promise me you’ll try then!” Ahsoka amends.

“I’ll try,” he laughs. “I promise.”

Slowly, Obi-Wan stands up but has to steady himself on a leather handle affixed to the ceiling.

“I would love to continue this conversation,” Obi-Wan says, his voice starting to slur ever so slightly. “But I think I need to lie down. Or throw up. Or both.”

Ahsoka grimaces and hands him a canteen. “Drink,” she says. “You need to stay hydrated.”

“Need to lie down,” he repeats.

“Drink, and then you can lie down.”

Obi-Wan nods and takes a few sips from the offered canteen. He passes it back to her before curling up on a small bunk just outside of the cockpit. A slight shiver racks his frame and Ahsoka grabs a blanket and lays it over him. He hums in contentment.

“Are you going to be okay until we get to the temple?” Ahsoka asks nervously.

“Yes. The adrenaline’s just wearing off and the blood loss is catching up with me. I’ll be okay.” Ahsoka stares at him a moment longer. “I promise,” Obi-Wan adds on.

“You better keep that one.”

“I will.” A pause. “I am sorry,” he says. “I didn’t want to scare you. And I didn’t want to get shot.”

“I know,” Ahsoka says. “Just get some rest. We’ll be home soon.”