#the only way i can get groceries easily... very frustrating to get completely different stuff that i now cant make dinner with

[queenerdloser]

my villain origin story is getting a completely different grocery order delivered to my apartment

[shinpredicts]

Marriage - long post part 2

Here's post one about marriages.

Marriages are tough. Think twice before you get married. I know this from seeing many marriages go to divorce, doing many readings, etc.

Marriage doesn't become only a 2 people thing

Marriage often means that you are also having connections with your spouse's family. You will most likely have closer relations with them. Issues from your spouse's family's side can become yours too somehow. Their mother or father may have ideas about some things. Your spouse may be too filial and listen to their parents a lot, which leads you to get frustrated. You might need to live with their parents or your parents might live with you and your spouse. You might be obliged in some sense to look after your spouse's parents and your spouse might be obliged to look after your parents.

Marriage means legal responsibilities

Once you are married, in many countries, you will have legal responsibilities to your spouse. They can be entitled to half of your assets upon separation or divorce. They can be entitled to spousal support upon separation or divorce. You can also share in their debt, depending on where you live and their laws.

You can have more rights as well in a marriage upon separation, depending on the laws of where you live.

It can take a long time for you to divorce depending on where you live. From my knowledge, some European countries make it so that it is quite hard to get divorced once you are married like you have to separate at least 2 - 5 years or something with other steps. In some places you'll need the consent of your other spouse in order to get divorced and if not then you go to court to show that they've done some wrong like cheated on you.

In many countries, cheating on someone is no longer a legal and valid reason to grant a divorce. Usually separating for a certain period is enough.

Marriage means financial responsibilities

You're probably going to have at least 1 joint account with your spouse. If it's like some credit card account or a line of credit account or a mortgage, that means you are legally liable for half of the debt of that joint account. Your spouse could overspend and the bank would still come after you. Of course the law probably has some ways of ensuring that you can sue your spouse they recklessly spend stuff but that's a hassle.

You will probably be sharing some the expenses together like rent/mortgage, utilities, groceries, etc. How do you decide what's fair between you and your spouse? Well that's up to you to decide. These are conversations that a lot of people don't really have until they marry because a lot of people don't live together pre-marriage. Due to lack of communication on this end, there will probably be fights among newly married couples as to who should pay for this and that.

What about that house or property or car you owned before marriage? Does that now mean your spouse can split the growth in the value of whatever you owned pre-marriage when you two separate? Isn't that unfair because you poured all your life money into that condo and your spouse didn't contribute anything to it and they get to split it with you??? Well, you'll have to see where the law lands for this. It depends on the country that you're in. Some countries say you can exclude property that you had pre-marriage completely. Some countries say no, you get some deduction but if it still exists at date of separation, then your spouse gets to share in the growth of the value of the property.

Marriage can lead to other challenges

Because you are no longer by yourself and you are with a spouse, your career will need to involve your spouse's input/discussion etc. You may have a great job opportunity or promotion but that's in another country or another state. You don't want to be separated from your spouse or maybe your spouse's career is doing great here and isn't the type that can easily move elsewhere. Will you give up this career advancement or will you make your spouse move with you so that you can pursue your dream while your spouse needs to give up theirs in a way?

Most marriages involve the spouses living in one home. A lot of people don't live together before marrying and that also runs into some problems upon marriage. Dating involved not living together.

Living together means you have different lifestyle habits. One spouse might be an earlier riser, while the other needs to sleep till like 10 am. One spouse might like sleeping earlier while the other sleeps at like 1 am. One spouse might have a certain way to squeeze their toothpaste that drives the other nuts. Everyone has different habits and quirks. The married couple needs to somehow find a way to work out those habits.

What about household chores? Who will be doing them? Do you like how someone washes those dishes? So many questions that you have to answer during marriage.

Marriage gets even more complicated when you have children

When you have children during marriage, that means there can be more complications in the marriage. Having children means more responsibilities on the parties. You now have other people that you have to look after and you have to somehow divide the responsibilities so that you both feel that it's fair.

People have different parenting styles too, which are often influenced by how their parents were to them. Some might believe in tough love. Others are more relaxed with the children and don't like lecturing them.

Spouses might have different expectations for the children too. Some might agree this school is better for them. Others might feel like they should learn the piano, not French or Korean. The other might think it's important they do hockey or karate or baseball. Some might want the kids to have As and the others think as long as they pass it's fine.

Some spouses don't want to be parents. They're not ready yet to be parents or they really just don't want kids. You and your spouse need to have the "kids" chat sometime probably before getting married. If you want kids and they don't, then that's going to be a problem. If you force them to have kids and then expect them to somehow magically adore kids after the kids are there, then that's just wishful thinking. It's very hard to change someone. Think twice before you have kids because once you pop them out, there is no refund. The kids are living, human beings with emotions and thoughts. They are not like clothes that can be refunded or exchanged.

Here's part 3!

[wouldduskwood]

Jake's POV Descendants of Despair Part 28

I was still staring at the computer screen in mild frustration when she appeared behind me. “Yeah, not feeling the phone thing when you’re just through here.” she mumbled. I turned and smiled at her in relief, capturing her in my arms. “I agree, having you here is far more pleasing.” I murmured softly.

“Okay, here’s the situation, I’m wired as fuck right now. Biting my tongue doesn’t always come easily. Also, I can’t remember the last time I ate and we have yet to find clear escape routes. I think we need to remedy some of this stuff, before I go completely nuts.” she sighed.

I nodded solemnly. “I get it, I’m finding it hard to concentrate on this and making stupid mistakes. We need to sort the food situation out pronto."

“I can go into Duskwood and pick something up?” she suggested. “No deal, we go together or not at all.” I responded with finality. Like there was any way I'd let her go there unattended. I'd do anything in my power to stop that. “Okay, but you stay in the car where cameras can’t pick you up and I get in and out. Deal?” I nodded again. “Okay, but we order online from some place near here but not Duskwood. You go in and pick up, that’s it. We can’t get much, I don’t have a lot of money.” I sighed. I wanted to be able to help her, provide anything I could for her. She had left home with pretty much nothing and I was embarrassed at my lack of resources for her.

“Yeah, money isn’t much of an issue.” she shrugged. “We order what we need and I pay for it in cash.” I looked at her, cocking my head to the side in confusion mixed with skepticism.

She sighed, “ I don’t trust banks with that much information about me...oh surprised?” she grinned, seeing my eyes widen briefly. “Very little of my money is used through banks...only what I want people to find actually. I withdraw a fair bit of money whenever I can. I purposefully use machines close to casinos to give the illusion of a gambling problem, but in actuality I keep the money in various envelopes with different quantities. A few days before I had to take off, I had gathered it all into my backpack. I kind of suspected I'd need to leave sooner rather than later. I guess this is a habit I picked up on the street. Hidden cash in various portions. If someone robs you on the street, they usually stop when they find something. If you spread it out in various places, they won’t find it all. Anyway, I guess I feel comforted having cash. It will also be helpful now, right?” she prodded me.

“Wow, you really are perfect aren’t you?” I grinned. “I have been busy racking my brain with how I will raise enough money to keep you alive and here you are sitting on money that will save us.” She smiled. “I think it will be plenty to keep us going for however long we need. There is a little less than $200,000.” I wasn't sure whether I had heard that correctly, so I stepped backwards in shock as I tried to process what she had said. Since she had started camping on the roof of the warehouse, I'd come up with endless schemes to find more money, but had so far failed miserably. She really could take care of herself.

“That much?” I croaked.

“Yeah, I spent a bit after I left the last place I was staying, on clothes and shit, but there should be enough here for as long as we need.”

“Uh, not to sound ungrateful or anything, but is it all...legally obtained?” I questioned. “It’s just...they can trace the serial numbers…”

She smiled and paused before responding. I looked at her questioningly. “Okay, yeah it is all legal. See, I told you I became qualified in teaching and technology. Well...I kind of found a little bit of a loophole. See, many international families want their children to learn English through a qualified English as a first language teacher. So, I found that if you...taught in a more relaxed and fun style than what the children were used to in their home land...well they tended to enjoy it more. They learnt fast. They also told their parents how great it was. Many of these families respect teachers and the market is massive, so they pay well...they also get their friends involved. Well, once I had a few networks set up, I worked out I could get more money if I taught more than 1 kid at a time, so I organised online classes. Parents were happy, their kids were happy, they were learning English and I was receiving full tutoring rates for every single child I had...no matter how many I taught at a time…I was pulling in a fair bit of money, even with taxes taken out, until I stopped recently to focus on you and Hannah…The other benefit was, I could do it on the run. I had tried once, ya know, to have a normal life. Began a normal job teaching and quit soon after as my past caught up to me.”

I shook my head slowly. “You are even more incredible than I ever thought before. Maybe it is no wonder I fell in love with you. You are perfect.”

She smiled then prompted me once more “So, groceries and essentials?”

“Come here and help me order,” I murmured, as I sat on the floor and pulled her onto my knee. We spent several minutes playing the happy couple as we browsed stock and picked out the various things we needed to survive. It was momentarily peaceful, but soon her phone was buzzing once more. The pests from Duskwood had returned.

“Fuck off,” she groaned out loud.

I grinned weakly. “They won’t give up, you know.”

“Can I say ‘Be right back, after I have done some fine shagging?’ she questioned, her voice coming off as innocent. Her question took me by surprise and I began laughing hysterically.

“No you cannot!”

“But it would be conversation stopping!” she pointed out

“Or rumour starting!” I countered. “Fine,” she sighed and opened the Groupchat, once again ignoring the messages to pen her own.

GROUPCHAT

MC: I am going to get groceries. I need food and sleep. I promise I’ll talk to you later.

MC is offline.

“Take this, before I throw it.” she asked me then headed for the car, with me following close behind. “Once you go into the store, you take this back. I’ll field their comments. You focus on the task at hand, but I need to know I can track you if something does go wrong.” I pleaded with her.

She nodded weakly.

“Jake. I love you.” she murmured quietly. I smiled, kissed her lips softly, then pulled on my mask and handed her the cap. “Time to cover up again, my Princess, and never forget, I love you more than life itself.”

Part 29

[blvejeanbaby]

The Farmhouse (m)

Pairing: Wooyoung x reader, San x reader, Yeosang x reader + multiple Ateez members x OC characters + boy x boy action Word count: 14.9k Warning: sex (though mostly foreplay), threesome, mentions of sex, alcohol use, some Ateez members are gay

disclaimer: I am not trying to assume anyone’s sexuality with this story, that was not what this was meant for! This is all a work of fiction and what I write in this story doesn’t necessarily reflect my thoughts in real life.

A/N: I had originally planned for this story to end up very, very differently but I like to write wherever my mind goes. That’s why I had originally planned to split this up into four parts, with a different ending in my mind. You’ll find out part of what that different ending was in the extra scene at the end n.n

Day 1 On a trip, the last mile is always the longest - it’s not so much the truth as the truth of a feeling. Yunho made sure the last mile wouldn’t come for a while. Even though he had proclaimed himself to be an excellent driver, perfectly capable of following up instructions while driving safely, he hadn’t been too successful in making that statement come true. With Jongho screaming different directions at him, increasingly getting more frustrated with Yunho’s inability to follow these, Yechan from the back attempting to give directions without really knowing where all of you were, you were more so focused on what was outside of the car. Over the course of your journey to the countryside, the landscape had gradually changed; from the tall buildings of the busy city, you got closer and closer to the national park, where you would be staying nearby.                “This must be it!” Daemi said excitedly. She had been quiet while the others had been arguing, but when you looked out of the front window, you noticed she was right. The building, a large two-storey farmhouse, concealing an even bigger backyard, with a vineyard next to it, matched the AirBnB advertisement perfectly.                “Oh, that’s Seonghwa’s car,” Yunho said, unable to keep the relief out of his voice. He steered the car onto the driveway and parked it right next to Seonghwa’s.                When you got out of the car, you were instantly greeted by a voice from higher up: “Hey, look up!” You shielded your eyes from the sun as you looked up to find a half-naked Wooyoung hanging out of an open window. “You’re the last ones to arrive.”                “It’s because Yunho can’t drive,” Jongho said, at the same time Daemi said: “It’s because Jongho doesn’t know how to read a map.”                “Well, you’d better come up and get yourselves a room,” Wooyoung said. “The others have already started drinking and none of the groceries have been done yet.”                To that, everyone nearly fell over each other to collect their bags from the trunk of the car. The house had enough rooms to accommodate 16 people, but because of some being less comfortable sleeping in rooms with certain others, everyone had more or less divided up the rooms beforehand, and mattresses were dragged around to make sure everyone had a bed to sleep in at night. Or during the day, considering the objective of this trip was not to have a wholesome trip to escape from your usual busy lives in the city. Of course it was that too, but there was also the idea that you would just get away to party and get drunk, the way you couldn’t so easily in the city, where there was always some authority to monitor you.                 You shared a room with Daemi and Yechan, your best girl friends. To accommodate Yechan, you got an extra mattress from the room opposite yours, which was one with an in-room shower. “…so that’s our bathroom,” Yechan concluded as she flopped down onto her unmade mattress and closed her eyes. “I’m going to take a nap.”                “A nap? We have to make our beds first. And the groceries still need to be done,” Daemi said.                “Why didn’t anybody else go while we were gone?” you sighed.                “Well, if Wooyoung’s right and they already started drinking…” Daemi shrugged. “Maybe we should do the groceries. Before everyone gets too drunk.”                When you got downstairs, you saw that Daemi had been right; a lot of people were already quite drunk. Seonghwa was one of them, pressing his car keys into your hands, despite you not having a drivers’ license. “Take them,” he said. “Take them. Take more beer with you too. The good ones.”                “Hwa, I don’t drink beer-“ you started, but Seonghwa kept rambling about the beer you needed to get.                “I’ll come with you,” San said, jumping up from his seat next to Alice and pushing Seonghwa into it. “I know which brand of beer he likes.” He smiled at you and you smiled back thankfully. You were glad to find that it wasn’t just going to be you and San doing the groceries – as he had been drinking and you didn’t have your license, there was no one who could even legally drive the car off the property if you had wanted to. You were glad to find it wasn’t just going to be the two of you. That would’ve probably made for some awkward moments between you. You had been alone with just San before, and it had been normal, until it wasn’t anymore. Something snuck into your relationship that could only be described as attraction. Perhaps it was just plain physical attraction, as your heart always beat slightly quicker when you saw him, or perhaps it ran deeper, but what you did know was that your friendship was good and you didn’t want to ruin it with a crush.                The dynamic in the friend group had always been amazing. The traditional idea about boys and girls not being able to be friends without romantic feelings involved, was completely destroyed by you guys’ friendships. Only Seonghwa and Sooyoung were officially dating, following a set-up Hongjoong had cooked up by himself. Sooyoung had never been part of the friend group before, and the same went for Soojin, her best friend. The friend group dynamics had actually improved upon Sooyoung and Soojin’s introductions to the group nearly two years ago.                It was for that reason you didn’t feel uncomfortable while in the car with only boys: Yunho drove again, Jongho navigating once more. You were squished in between Hongjoong and San in the backseat of Yunho’s car, which was roomier than Seonghwa’s, with the latter’s car keys pressing into your leg through your jeans. While Jongho and Yunho already started arguing about which way to go and which supermarket to choose, you turned to Hongjoong as he talked about the plans for the next couple of days: “…sauna, so maybe we can hop in there tonight. And tomorrow Anna and I want to do a barbecue by the lakeside. It’s not that far a drive but if we want to take beer there, we can walk too.”                “Of course we’ll want to take beer,” San said. “Maybe even wine and stuff. Hey, Y/N, we have your favourite drink too. It’s cheaper in cities than in the countryside, we figured out.”                “My favourite drink?” you turned to him.                “That soju-yogurt cocktail you like so much. Wooyoung and Yeosang made it for you.”                You felt your heart swell at San remembering you liking soju-yogurt cocktails. It had been a while since you told him about loving it the first time you tried it and it becoming your signature drink when going out. You weren’t big on alcohol the way other people could be, but sometimes you found yourself casually wanting to make your own soju-yogurt cocktail at home. “I hope there’s still left when we get back.”                Once at the grocery store – which was tucked away behind a scary-looking church that, according to Yunho’s limited amount of information about the surrounding area, once belonged to a cult – Hongjoong was in charge of listing off the grocery list and checking the boxes corresponding with what the others put into the cart. You were staying close to San’s side, as you always did when he was around. Yes, you found him physically attractive, which made you want to look at him all the time, but there was also something absolutely magnetic about his personality that made you want to be talking to him always. And it seemed like San was really into your conversation as you wandered off from Hongjoong and Jongho to find a certain brand of pasta sauce. Despite the simplicity of the topics you were talking about, which ranged from Yunho not being able to drive and Yechan karate chopping you in the head when she saw a mosquito flying past that she wanted to kill, you felt a little nervous around San. Once you had told Daemi about it, hoping she would come with valuable advice, but instead she had laughed at you and just declared you were crushing on San, hard. And perhaps she was right.                When you got back to the farmhouse, needless to say, the soju-yogurt cocktail was gone. Feeling robbed of the one thing you were looking forward to about returning, you opted to drink water instead. You’d start drinking alcohol after dinner, you told yourself, so you wouldn’t get sick. Finally, when it was clear there were little to no sober people you could strike up conversation with, you excused yourself to go upstairs and shower.                The summer heat made everything hot and sticky, including your body. You grabbed a towel and some clean clothes as well as your toiletry bag before going to the single room with the shower. The room was small and simple, with a window overlooking the backyard and the mountains in the distance. You cracked the window open, quickly glancing down to see the back patio, only accessible through the kitchen. As you put on the shower, you enjoyed the smell of freshly cut grass and summer drafting in through the window, as well as the sound of the water cascading on your body mixing with the sounds of a chirping bird outside and the sounds of cows in the distance. Until your attention was caught by a sudden yelp: “Wooyoung!”                Your eyes shot wide open when you recognized that voice. Rose. Along with Alice and Anna, they were in your friend group because Daemi liked them a lot. Your personality didn’t match well with Rose and although you didn’t hate each other or anything, you weren’t very fond of Rose and you were sure the sentiment was shared by her. As far as you knew, Wooyoung, however, thought she was amazing.                “Don’t tell me you don’t like it,” Wooyoung’s voice sounded, loud, as if he was right there in the room with you. It immediately gave you goose bumps.                “Hm, I like it,” Rose’s voice came again. You could just about imagine her shaking her blonde hair out of her face, over her shoulder… You had always thought she looked closest to an angel as was humanly possible. Perhaps your dislike of her had something to do with how you were jealous of her always getting the guys she wanted, how she managed to get every single boy to ever lay eyes on her to fall in love with her and how she could effortlessly keep and make friends… “You like this?”                “Hm, Rose…” That was a groan. A groan from Wooyoung. You had never heard something so utterly sexual. You shivered. Saying you were feeling increasingly uncomfortable was nearly an understatement. They continued to make sounds that made you want to throw up in your mouth. Had they been drinking this much already? Or were they just that into each other that it didn’t bother them it was broad daylight outside? Did they not hear your shower running too? Or were they not aware how perfectly audible they were? You felt like you weren’t supposed to be naked while you could hear them so clearly; it felt weird.                You quickly turned off the shower and wrapped your towel around yourself. Even though you had taken your clothes and toiletry bag into the single room, you didn’t want to hear a single sound anymore, so you made your way back to your room where you took your time getting ready, trying to shake off the nasty feeling Wooyoung and Rose’s acts had left behind.                While putting on clothes and jewellery and smearing light makeup on your face, you felt the urge to dress the best you could, despite the fact you were just going to be cooking and eating and drinking with your group of best friends. There was something inside of you screaming that you wanted to prove to everyone that you, too, were worthy of getting fingered and giving handjobs on the patio as well – there was no other explanation for what they had been doing and no need to lie to yourself about it. More importantly, you felt the need to prove to specifically Wooyoung you could handle whatever he would give you on that patio. More so than Rose. But that was ridiculous. You wouldn’t really want Wooyoung to touch you like that.                As you finished the perfect winged eyeliner, you decided that was enough makeup. You made your way downstairs, collecting Anna, Daemi and Hongjoong for dinner. “Let’s get going,” you said.                “Seems like you already got going,” Daemi chuckled, following you closely into the kitchen. “Who is that outfit for?”                “For you, of course.” You sent her a wink.                “San is one lucky boy,” Daemi said quietly, so no one else could hear, before getting to work on cutting up onions. If only she knew, you thought to yourself, taking it upon yourself to cut up the potatoes.                It took a surprisingly long time to cook for 16 people, despite the extra hands pitching in to slice up vegetables and do the washing up. You realized how much you’d been underappreciating the restaurant people who churn out dishes at an insane speed, compared to how you’re cooking a relatively simple dish with little ingredients while needing all the help you can get.                “Ah,” you hear a voice, “can I taste?” Before getting confirmation, the spoon is already in the pasta sauce and before you can scold him, the spoon is already in his mouth. “Hm, needs a little more spice, I think.”                “Yeah? Well, you think wrong.”                “What? You haven’t even tasted yet,” Wooyoung said, putting the spoon back on the counter. There’s a smirk on his face that your hands are itching to wipe off with a slap, and a blush on his cheeks that you know is not the effect of the hot weather.                “The recipe doesn’t call for extra spices, thank you very much.”                “What’s got you all upset?”                “I’m not upset,” you bite back, proving the opposite.                “Ah, it must be the period,” Wooyoung said, with an air of superiority.                “Fuck you, Wooyoung.” You threw your own wooden spoon down into the pasta mixture, splattering both yourself and Wooyoung with the red sauce, before storming out onto the patio – only to find Rose standing, a gleeful smile on her face and a cigarette between her lips.                She looked up instantly. “You look a little upset.” Her smile faded away as she stuck out her hand to you. “Need a drag?”                You didn’t even bother responding, instead dealing with the embarrassment of having to go back through the kitchen to escape. When dinner is served, you can’t even muster up the faintest of smiles or feign happiness. At least what got you so upset wasn’t your period. And quite frankly, you were even angrier that Wooyoung thought it was okay to make such a joke, whilst normally being so attuned to girls’ feelings, especially yours.                You hated the pasta, but you ate it anyway. You glanced over to where Wooyoung was seated, chatting excitedly to Seonghwa and Mingi, the left-overs of the splattered sauce staining his white shirt. You didn’t even feel remotely guilty.                You were glad when dinner was finished, so you could commit yourself to working on another batch of soju-yogurt cocktail, this time without Wooyoung, since he was too busy in the sauna. Probably flirting with Rose, you thought to yourself as you grumpily got to work on the ingredients. San and Yeosang were right there with you; Yeosang because he knew how to make it and San because he evidently wanted to cheer you up. He kept saying cheesy jokes and poking your cheeks and then his own ‘to see if he could give you his dimples’. Every time you gave him an annoyed look, his smile made your heart flutter and your mouth shut.                As the night progressed, you were aware you were drinking a bit too much of the mixture. Maybe a bit too much of any liquor, really, because by the time the clock struck 11 o’clock, you were already very close to quitting alcohol for the night, while Soojin was only on her second drink of the evening.                “I’m going to get some air,” you said to no one in particular, before getting up and stepping outside, sliding the door closed behind you. Away from the stifling heat inside, the cool mountain air managed to cool you down enough to not sway on your feet as you threw your head back to look at the night sky. It was dotted with stars, only visible because you were so far away from cities and their light pollution. You were in the middle of deep contemplations about the universe, when you heard a noise. Oh no, not again, you thought to yourself, your head snapping down to look over the balustrade, down at the swimming pool.                On the edge of it you could see two figures, barely visible in the darkness. But from what little light the porchlight shone on them, you could make out that it’s San – it’s unmistakably him. But who is with him? It takes a little more squinting and a moan before you make yourself rip away from the sight, stomping back into the house. You don’t even tell anyone that you’re heading up to bed.                Only when you’re finally underneath the covers, you allow yourself to think about what you saw. Your long-time crush, Choi San, shoving his tongue down the throat of Kim Alice, someone you had always figured was rather harmless a person to have around. She didn’t speak much in big groups – kind of like you – but when she did, she was funny. She was a joy to be around, seemed to have a life devoid of problems, she was conventionally attractive… With a sigh you turned on your side, closing your eyes, willing yourself to fall asleep. But all you saw with eyes closed was San and Alice, kissing as if their lives depended on it.

Day 2 After you and Anna had put away the dirty plates and cutlery into the dishwasher and turned it on, everyone was about ready to leave for the lake. The morning had been off to a slow start but with the sun beaming down on everyone, scorching hot, they were all suddenly up and running. Their sudden energy was not the reason you left the cars at the house and instead walked through the significantly cooler forest to get to the lake. After all, according to Hongjoong, it’s not a far walk. The reason was solely to be able to drink.                Jongho and Yeosang carried the cool box filled to the brim with drinks and meat, which was undoubtedly the heaviest thing to carry, while Daemi and Alice offered to carry the blankets to sit on. Everyone else was assigned their own towels and clothes to carry. You stayed at the back of the group with Mingi, who was positively hungover from the night before and had to stop every few minutes or so to clutch at his stomach and complain about how nauseous he felt. Needless to say, the two of you arrived only when Seonghwa had already started to set up ‘camp’, as he called it, and the others were already half-undressed and in the water.                Soojin was in the midst of stripping off her sundress, convincing Alice to do the same. Both were trying to get Yunho to abandon his duties of helping Seonghwa lay down the blankets, for him to come swimming with them. Jongho and Yeosang, who had been in the front with Hongjoong, setting the pace and navigating, had already put the cool box down, Jongho in the process of taking off his pants.                “Y/N,” Sooyoung appeared in front of you suddenly. “Do you want to come with us to the village? It’s just a ten minute walk, Hongjoong said, and it’s apparently really pretty. Maybe you can take some photos.” She gestured toward your film camera, a gift from Wooyoung for your last birthday. You had taken it with you to the lake, thinking you could get a lot of use out of it to capture the memories of the trip.                “Sure, seems like fun,” you said. “Who’s coming?” You felt torn as Sooyoung told you it was just going to be you, Seonghwa, Hongjoong and Yeosang. On the one hand you were glad that San and Wooyoung were staying behind, as you weren’t sure you could handle having to deal with them for too long. On the other hand, you were a little torn on leaving them behind with Alice and Rose. You had to remind yourself they were nothing to you but your friends as you shrugged your heavy backpack off and gave Mingi a pat on the head before he threw himself down on the blankets. Even though he was groaning and being apologetic, no one believed he found it really terrible he could not come with.                Hongjoong and Seonghwa were completely attached to Sooyoung, which caused you to stay with Yeosang. He was typically a very observant but quiet person; he noticed a lot but never said a thing about it. Imagine your surprise when he asked: “So, you were not having a great time last night?”                “Was it that obvious?” you groaned.                “Wooyoung told me you cursed at him. You know, he was joking about the period thing.”                “I know. Doesn’t make it okay.”                Yeosang turned semi-serious. “He hates it when you two fight.”                “Has he told you that as well?” You were starting to lose your temper, which you did not want. After all, Yeosang had nothing to say about what Wooyoung was feeling, saying or doing.                “No,” Yeosang said. “I just know. You’re his best friend, even though it might not seem like it sometimes. What were you mad about anyway?”                You gnawed at your lip. The fact was, you weren’t entirely sure what you were particularly mad about. That he was fingering Rose on the patio while everyone could notice? That he was fingering Rose on the patio of all places? That he was fingering Rose to begin with? That it was Rose, of all people? And what reason did you have anyway to care about what Wooyoung was doing romantically or sexually? You were only friends.                But if there was someone you could talk to this about, it would surely be Yeosang, right? Apart from you, he had known Wooyoung the longest. Before it was you and Yechan and Daemi, it had been you and Wooyoung and Yeosang. And even before that, it had been Wooyoung and Yeosang. That was before San had come in and essentially stolen Wooyoung away. It was before a lot of things.                You sighed. “Well, when I was showering last night? Before dinner?” You mentally cringed at what you were about to say: “I heard some noises outside. I’m pretty sure – No, I’m 100 percent confident that it was Wooyoung and Rose going at it. If you know what I mean.”                “I can guess,” Yeosang said. “And that bothered you, why?”                “I never said it bothered me,” you said. Too defensive. “I don’t like Rose,” you admitted, knowing damn well it was not just that. From the look on Yeosang’s face, you could see he was thinking the same thing. And there was something else too... You were grateful and relieved when he left it at that, though. Instead, Hongjoong pointed you to a small café.                Although it might be small, it was not characterless. There were few people inside that afternoon, leaving a lot of different cakes and pies for you and your friends to try out. As you waited for your order, you glanced around the café. It was covered in pink flowers, even the walls were painted pink. You saw what Hongjoong liked about it – it had a certain charm. One that apparently made Sooyoung feel like she had to excessively comment on everything in a squealy voice. You liked her, but her excitement was giving you headaches. Honestly, you were still feeling kind of miserable and sorry for yourself.                Yeosang cheered you up by sharing the remainder of his chocolate-cherry cake with you when you had finished your own, knowing the best remedy for what you were feeling was food. While on your way back to the lakeside, Yeosang kept to your side, purposefully bringing up things you had done together where Wooyoung hadn’t been involved. The happy memories you had shared with Yeosang were plenty enough to make you smile again and by the time you arrived back to camp, you were genuinely in a good mood.                “Y/N!” Yechan exclaimed as she saw you. “Come jump in! The water’s so good.”                “Gotta set up the barbecue,” you said. “Sorry!” All of that was a lie. After all, you didn’t really have to set up the barbecue and there was Hongjoong already getting started on it. In all honesty, you just didn’t feel like joining the happy couples in the water. As soon as Seonghwa and Sooyoung had raced each other to the campsite, they had discarded their clothes and jumped in the water, engaging in a splash war against Jongho and Soojin. Alice was seated on San’s shoulders, battling Rose, who was on Wooyoung’s shoulders. You didn’t want anything to do with them.                Instead you chose a soft spot on the blankets next to Mingi, who was sound asleep, Rose’s straw sunhat shading his eyes from the sun, relentlessly beating down. Yunho and Daemi were on his other side, playing a game of cards that Yeosang immediately joined, claiming it as his favourite game, although he then proceeded to ask what the rules were.                You watched Hongjoong struggle with the barbecue for a while until you decided it was time to help him out of his misery. As he noticed you helping him, his face immediately brightened up. “What did you think? Of the café?”                “It was great, Joongie,” you said, giving him your brightest smile. You actually meant it. “Thanks for taking us.”                “Oh, don’t worry about it,” he said. “I just wanted you to have some fun.”                With a sigh you leaned back to sit. “Is everyone just a mind reader now?”                “No, I just overheard your conversation with Yeo on the way to town. Sorry about that. If you allow me to give you some advice – I think you should just be having fun and not letting something like that bother you. And anyway, I always thought you had a crush on San, not Wooyoung.”                You looked at him, shocked. “What?”                “You heard what I said. Hand me the coals, please.”                You did as he said. “What do you mean I have a crush on San?”                Joong shrugged. “It’s pretty clear from the way you behave around him that you do. Or maybe did?” He winked at you playfully. “I mean, why else would you be angry at Wooyoung for finally approaching Rose? You know he’s been talking about her for years now.”                You didn’t know. Perhaps your friendship with Wooyoung was not as unconditional and carefree and honest as you always thought it had been. “Joongie, you’re not making me feel any better right now,” you said, your mind wandering off to his previous comment about you crushing on San. It was true that you liked him, there was nearly no denying it. But if Hongjoong knew, then did the others as well?                “I don’t know, Y/N. I think you should just let loose and have some fun.”                When the fire beneath the barbecue was finally going and Daemi took your place at it to grill chicken satay, you took her place at the card game. When the first batch of food was served, you woke Mingi to call for the others, still in the water. They were quick to join at the mention of food.                Everyone gathered in a circle, smiling and laughing, but all you could do was stab at your food as you looked around the group, wondering who out of all of them knew of your crush on San, who, by the way, looked absolutely stunning with the water droplets on his naked chest glimmering in the afternoon sunlight, like little diamonds. You hated it.                “Say ‘ah’.” You turned to look at Wooyoung, an apologetic smile on his face.                “Ah?”                “No, like this.” He widened his mouth and stuck out his tongue a little, dragging out the ‘ah’ longer. You rolled your eyes but followed his example, which was followed by Wooyoung putting a piece of meat on your tongue. You chewed on it, watching him as he sat down next to you. “Here. Have some more.”                “My favourite,” you said, grabbing the plate from him. “Is this your version of a white flag?”                “Yes,” Wooyoung said. “I’m sorry about the joke I made. Yeosang might have mentioned you really didn’t like it and I guess it’s a pretty assholey thing to say anyway. I don’t want to fight with you.”                “I guess I have to apologize as well,” you said. “I’m not in the best mood and I’m taking it out on you. Among others.” You glanced over at San before focusing back on Woo. “I don’t want to fight with you either.”                “Good.” Wooyoung stuck out his pinkie finger to you, as if you were kindergartners still. “Promise me that we won’t fight during this trip again.”                “Just this trip?” you joked, curling your own pinkie around his. You’re just about to say something else, when a girl plops down on Wooyoung’s other side. You would recognize that blonde hair anywhere.                “Got you pork belly, like you asked.” Rose handed a new plate to Wooyoung. “Hi, Y/N. Why didn’t you go swimming?”                “I might swim after dinner,” you said, surprised she even talked to you. You were not so surprised to find out this was the only thing she was going to say to you, instead looking at Wooyoung, totally transfixed by him. You sighed, going back to stabbing at your food. At least there was no fighting with your best friend now.                You’re glad when the drinking begins and you have an excuse to chug down liquor. You even go swimming for a bit, hanging around Yechan and Yeosang the most. It’s not long after evening falls that Soojin calls out for everyone to return to the farmhouse. You’re clinging onto your beer bottle on the way back, walking next to Yeosang, your arm linked through his. After all, he managed to majorly cheer you up and perhaps he could perform that same magic trick again.                Back at the farmhouse, Mingi perked up enough from his massive hangover to call everyone to him for a beer pong match. With a little help of Anna, he set up teams of two to compete against each other. “Y/N and Yeosang, you begin! Against Yechan and Daemi.”                As you took your place next to Yeosang, you realized it was obvious either Mingi or Anna had picked up on the tension in the house. You kind of wanted to convince Yeosang to cheat and purposefully lose the game, but when you saw his fanatism at landing the first ball in Daemi’s cup, you didn’t have the heart to tell him you didn’t want to play. He was just so smiley and happy… You convinced yourself that a) you wanted to win this game just as badly as he did and b) that you’re not absolutely shit at beer pong.                The first opponents were luckily nearly as bad as you are at the game. Although the ball takes awfully long to land in the last cup, you and Yeosang still manage to defeat Yechan and Daemi. While the two of you are not up against anyone yet, you vow to yourself to get even more tipsy. It won’t help with aim but you were sure it would help your mood. It’s a fine line between tipsy and drunk and you were walking it with little care in the world.                Your next opponents were Hongjoong and Jongho, who already proclaimed themselves Kings of Beer Pong. Only to be beat by you and Yeosang; turns out Hongjoong just had extreme luck playing against Seonghwa and Sooyoung, for his aim is honestly worse than yours, and Jongho can’t keep up against Yeosang, who deserves to officially be crowned King of Beer Pong.                Yeosang’s so surprisingly good at the game that you’re not surprised when you win the finale round against Wooyoung and San. Overcome with emotions that you can’t properly explain and do not want to face and will probably never address ever again, you reached for Yeosang’s face, cupping it in your hands and pressing your lips against his. You felt a shock of surprise run through his body, but his hands effortlessly found your hips to steady you and kiss back.                Despite the absence of butterflies or fireworks or any of the sorts, you become aware of how unaware you are of the sounds around you two. The only sound that’s coming through is Yeosang’s small moans and the sounds kisses tend to make. It doesn’t help that you’re both using an obscene amount of tongue, but you might be drunk and you don’t care – especially not that anyone or everyone is watching and cheering.                When you pull away, you smile at Yeosang, who looks a little stunned but not unhappy about your actions. “Congratulations, King of Beer Pong,” you tell him.                “Thanks, Queen.” He even has the liberty of squeezing your ass, earning him a yelp that broadens his smile. Take that, Woosan, you think to yourself. “Let’s get you another drink.” With his arm still around you, Yeosang guides you to the kitchen, away from prying eyes, both unaware that Mingi was ready to crown you both winners and offer you a prize. You couldn’t care less about what the prize was.                The kitchen is completely empty except for a collection of trash and dirty plates and glasses. After clearing a space on the countertop, Yeosang picked you up with a surprising amount of strength and sat you down on it, then going to fix you a glass of water. “There you go.”                “Water?” you complain. “Yeo-“                “No, you need to sober up a little,” he spoke in a tone of amusement. “I think you’re an amazing kisser and I really enjoyed that, but I also know that kiss wasn’t meant for me.”                “Oh, are you going to tell me who the kiss was meant for then? Because, last I checked, my lips were on yours and not on anyone else’s. I think that was meant for you, Yeosang.”                “Maybe,” he said, “but then with the intent of hurting someone else. Or whatever you thought you were doing back there. You’re not attracted to me.”                “Says who?” you pull Yeosang closer to you by his shirt collar, capturing him between your legs. He looks profoundly comfortable in between them, but you know what he means when he says: “I do. You do, with your body language.”                You rolled your eyes at him, setting the glass of water down next to you. “I’m not going to endure another talk about how in love I am with San and how everyone can tell.”                “I wasn’t going to say you’re in love with San.”                “Okay, Wooyoung then. Only because I was jealous he fingered Rose on the patio. The patio! That one over there!” You pointed at it for emphasis. “All of those feelings are not yours to comment on, Yeosang. Hongjoong.” You narrowed your eyes at him as he entered the kitchen rather innocently.                “Wh-“ Hongjoong locked eyes with Yeosang and immediately his eyes widened. “I’m out of here right now. Sorry.”                “Drink your water,” Yeosang said, giving you a little pat on the knee before following Hongjoong out of the kitchen. You sighed in frustration, grabbing the glass and bringing it to your lips. It actually tasted pretty nice to be drinking something as pure as water after all of the alcohol you had been consuming. Perhaps Yeosang was right and the kiss hadn’t been meant for him at all, not even a little bit. Perhaps you were just trying to make him jealous. And you weren’t quite sure which him you meant with that.                Perhaps the him that came walking into the kitchen right at that moment, empty bottle of beer in hand. “Oh, have you come to lecture me too?” you said before he could even open his mouth – just one look was enough. “I’m sick of it.”                “Well,” San said, “now that you mention it. Why did you kiss Yeosang?”                “Why wouldn’t I? You have been all over Alice too, haven’t you?”                “You really don’t understand, do you?”                “Understand what?” There was a viciousness to your voice that made San shake his head. “I’m not going to argue with you while you’re still drunk.”                “Yeah? Well-“ But you didn’t get a chance to say anything hurtful to him as he had already left the kitchen. With a sigh you chugged down the water, slid off the countertop and walked to your room. You could faintly hear all the noises in the living room, the partiers, but you were glad you weren’t there with them. This was not the fun trip you had planned for it to be.

Day 3 Even though Anna had planned something to do the day after, everyone was so hungover that no one really felt like going anywhere. You woke up first, quietly stepping over a snoring Yechan and trying not to wake a sleep-talking Daemi as you went to the single room across the floor to have a shower. This time without opening the window, even though you knew it was highly unlikely you would hear Wooyoung and Rose again. You went downstairs, made yourself breakfast, and by the time you had finished, the first people started coming down. The first was Jongho, followed by Soojin and Anna. Soon thereafter, Yunho and Daemi appeared as well, looking different states of dishevelled. There was still dried up spit in the corner of Yunho’s mouth. “Who’s up for a walk?” he excitedly said.                No one felt like going, but you jumped up at the opportunity to be away from the farmhouse for a bit. Accompanying Yunho on his walk was quite peaceful. You never had a really close relationship with him as you did Wooyoung or Yeosang, but you were happy to be around him. It certainly helped that your surroundings were breath-taking, with views you could barely get enough of. It was so vastly different from what you were used to living in the city, that being at the farmhouse felt all the more special. You were reminded that this was partially why you had agreed to come on this trip; to see the beauty of the nature park. Not to get wound up in drama you yourself created by being… Well, was there a word for the way you were feeling? The way you were acting?                It gave you some peace of mind walking with Yunho and realizing that he wasn’t going to break out in a lecture about not kissing Yeosang if you don’t like him, your everlasting crush on San, or whatever was going on with your friendship with Wooyoung. You had no desire to talk about any of that, but as you walked alongside Yunho, basking in the warm morning sunlight, it was the only thing you were thinking about.                By the time you guys circled back to the farmhouse, the others were up already. Most were still yawning and staring at their untouched plates of eggs and bacon with sleep in their eyes, but Yeosang perked up as you came in. He nodded with his head to get you outside on the patio from which you had seen San and Alice kissing the first night.                “I think I know what this is about,” you started. “Yeo, I was very drunk. It didn’t mean anything between us, at least not to me. I hope you understand.”                “I-“ Yeosang started, but he was interrupted by someone you really didn’t want to see at this particular moment.                “If you don’t like him, then why would you kiss him?” Wooyoung said, his arms crossing over one another in front of his chest. He stood leaning against the closed sliding door, obviously not understanding that this was a private conversation. Obviously not understanding that this was the last straw.                “Okay, I’m done with this,” you said. “Normally I feel like I can be honest with you both but for the past few days-“ You sighed, not fully comfortable with sharing every thought you had, the things that had drove you to go bed so early in the night to mull over by yourself. “You know, I did it because I had something to prove. And besides, why is everyone so upset over this? San is always face sucking Alice whenever he can and you!” You had subconsciously moved closer to Wooyoung, now pricking his chest with your finger. “You did whatever with Rose out there and you didn’t even know that everything you did, I could perfectly hear. You’re both having so much fun with the girls here, but are so quick to scold me for wanting to do the same with Yeosang?”                “That’s really not the same thing,” Wooyoung started.                “Oh, and what makes it different?”                “You’ve known Yeosang for years!”                “You’ve known Rose for years. San has known Alice for years.”                “It’s all not the same thing.”                “Do I get a say in this?” Yeosang said, finally intercepting. Perhaps he had got quite uncomfortable with seeing Wooyoung and you so close to each other, staring each other down.                You both broke away from each others’ gaze at the same time and spoke simultaneously: “No!”                There was a silence and finally a sigh from Wooyoung. “Come find me when you think you can talk like a grown-up, yeah?” He didn’t even really sound mad, perhaps somewhere between defeated and disappointed. He tugged open the door and slammed it shut behind him. You waited for a second, not daring to look at Yeosang, before you followed Wooyoung inside. Instead of heading up the stairs behind him, you went into the kitchen and out onto the patio.                There was no one out. You hoped for Yeosang that he was inside, since clouds had gathered above and there was a light drizzle coming down now. You let it cool your temper as well as your skin, thinking of the trip. You had looked forward to it for so long but it really wasn’t going as you had planned. Yes, you had joked with Daemi and Yechan that some crazy things would happen, claiming that Mingi would be the first one to throw up because of all of the alcohol (you were right about that) and that someone would accidentally throw someone in the pool while they still had their phones on them (hadn’t happened yet, but the trip wasn’t over). Daemi had bet that she would get into an argument with Yechan, Yechan had bet that she would catch Seonghwa and Sooyoung in a compromising position.                The bet made about yourself had been that you would drunkenly act upon your crush on San. You had known when placing the bets with your friends that there was a very slim chance you would ever dare to approach San in that way and as you stood outside, overlooking the mountain area, you realised you didn’t want San anymore. Not the way you had always wanted him, at least.                You used to think San was relationship material, the only guy you wanted to fulfil the need of having a boyfriend. But he wasn’t. He was perhaps too flirty, perhaps too much a person you could only look at from a distance and admire. He wasn’t boyfriend material. Just a friend.                So what about Yeosang? Was that you drunkenly acting upon your hidden crush for him? Was that kiss because you liked him? Was he even boyfriend material to you? No. The answer was simple and clear, you didn’t even have to think about it. Yeosang was just one of your closest friends. He was sweet, really, and you would be lying if you said you had never thought about how it would have been if you were to date him. You were sure he harboured fond feelings for you as well, but those were probably along the same line as what you felt for him. Nothing romantic. After all, it was Yeosang, and you two had known each other for forever. You’d seen each others’ good and bad sides and you thought you knew what he would be like in a relationship. You’d seen his failed relationships play out in the past. You thought you had that figured out.                So then that kiss… Who were you trying to prove something to? What were you even trying to prove? It was true what you had said, however. You were trying to prove to yourself that... Your mind flicked to the first night, when you had heard Wooyoung and Rose’s escapades. You were bothered about it, in a different way than what you had felt when you caught San and Alice.                You replayed the fight you just had with Wooyoung in your head. What did he care what you were up to? You sat down on the small bench. It was wet now, washed clean by the rain; there was no way you otherwise would have sat down on it, considering what had happened a few days before. You rested your head against the wall of the farmhouse. Closing your eyes, you saw the look in Wooyoung’s eyes. You felt how close you had been standing to him.                A knock on the patio door startled you. When you opened your eyes you saw Yeosang, eyes big and with two mugs on a tray. “Hey, Y/N… Can we talk? I brought hot chocolate.”                “Sure,” you said, patting the spot next to you. Yeosang came outside, handing you the tray as he closed the door behind him. “What did you want to talk about?”                “Well… I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. About anything.” This was clearly something that had been bothering him for a while, longer than everything that has gone on in the farmhouse. “Yesterday when you kissed me… I know why you did it and I know why you’ve been so upset these past couple of days. But I just wanted to clear things up so there’s no misunderstandings between us. And besides, I feel like I have lied to you all these years I’ve known you.” He took a deep breath, his hands wrapping around the mug. You saw he was shaking and his nails were bitten down. Maybe you hadn’t paid enough attention to his feelings, instead only rambling on about yours. “I guess I got a little upset this morning too. I hate seeing you and Wooyoung fight, for many reasons. But also because… because I am in love with Wooyoung.”                “W-what?”                “I like Wooyoung. Y/N… I’m gay.”                “But, Yeo…” You bit your lip, wrapping your own hands around the mug. From everything he could’ve said, this was the least of what you had expected. “Wooyoung is… straight.”                “I know, I know!” Yeosang quickly said. “I’ve always known I don’t have a chance with him. Not romantically. I’m fine being his friend, just his friend. You have to believe me.” He was still shaking however. “I also know that no matter what, I want to see him happy. And knowing what I know, you would realize that the Wooyoung he is around Rose? That’s not him being truly happy.”                You frowned. “What are you trying to say?”                “I mean that he’s more into you than he’s into Rose.”                “What?” You shook your head. “Yeo, that’s not right. Wooyoung doesn’t like me like that. I mean, it’s pretty clear-“                “Why do you think that everyone is so upset with you kissing me?” Yeosang chuckled. “They might’ve thought you were into San, or now that you’re into me. But they know for sure that Wooyoung is into you. He’s told San and I that much before. And I think you like him back.”                “How does everyone know that better than I do myself?”                He shrugged. “I can’t speak for everyone, but… All these years of being in love with Wooyoung means I look at him more or less the same way he looks at you. And when you look at him? I see the same thing. You two are just oblivious to each other.”                You finally took a sip of the hot chocolate, your thoughts aligning in your head to form a question: “So what does this thing with Rose mean? Why did he… finger her?” You realized how pathetic it sounded to ask.                “I don’t know. That’s something you have to ask him yourself.”                You nodded and then you turned to Yeosang again. “Yeo, thanks for telling me. I appreciate knowing that you trust me enough to.” You put your arm around him, pulling him into a side-hug like you used to do when you two were younger. “Who else knows?”                “Only Hongjoong does.”                “Of course,” you said. Joong had come out of the closet as bisexual about two years ago. It made sense Yeosang would want to go to him, knowing Hongjoong wouldn’t judge him. “Nothing changes, Yeo.”                You hope Yeosang feels relieved, finally having that burden off his shoulders. You talk a little about how long he’s known and eventually Yeosang asks to leave the subject alone for now and go swimming instead. You are not one to deny him, so you head upstairs to get changed and meet him at the swimming pool. It’s empty except for Yechan and Seonghwa. Sooyoung and Soojin are on sunbeds on the side, but it’s clear the girls were fast asleep. The drizzle of before has stopped but the clouds have remained, however the temperature is climbing upwards as you’re in the pool.                When you and Yeosang join, it breaks up the conversation between Yechan and Seonghwa, the latter of them suggesting to play a game instead. You team up with Seonghwa to even out the playing field and through multiple rounds of a handball-resembling game, you realise that it was futile because you and Seonghwa were bound to lose the second you agreed to teaming up together.                The sun started going down while you were still hanging by the pool, wrinkled out like a raisin but enjoying the contrast between the cool water of the pool and the stifling heat of the overcast summer weather. You and Yeosang didn’t get out of the pool until Anna came to collect everyone for dinnertime. You’re happy sitting in between Yeosang and Mingi – who had remained in his room for the better part of the day, insanely hungover again and having emptied his stomach multiple times – as they talk over your head about this TV show they figured out they both had been watching.                Having not changed out of your bikini for dinner, you are the first to get back into the water afterwards. It’s still warm outside, although it’s pretty much pitch black except for the porchlight. It’s bound to rain and you guess there will probably be thunder and lightning involved. After a moment, you’re joined in the water with Daemi and Yechan, and then Yunho and Mingi, and then San and Alice. As you float around, trying to avoid getting caught in the middle of Daemi-Mingi against Yechan-Yunho, you glance over at San and Alice. They were laughing at whatever joke they told each other, genuine happiness in their eyes, and you knew it didn’t matter that you thought you had a crush on San. He was obviously very happy with Alice. It didn’t matter.                That feeling was amplified when you noticed Wooyoung, just a small distance behind San and Alice, kicking around a ball with Jongho. You were about to look away when you saw him glance over and shoot you a smile. Despite your fight, you smiled back. Maybe this was the right time to make up. You nodded your head in the direction of the trampoline, farther our into the field behind the farmhouse. It was too dark to see out by the trampoline, even with the porchlight, so no one went there at night. It was the perfect spot.                Wooyoung nodded, kicked the ball back to Jongho and said: “I’ll be right back. Go annoy Hongjoong, he looks bored.”                You both laid down on the trampoline in silence, staring up at the sky. Clouds were chasing each other and there was a low rumble in the distance. Thunder. “I’m sorry about how I reacted,” you said, knowing to speed this up. You had known Wooyoung since you two were little and he was still scared of thunder and lightning. By now he had grown up more and also matured – he had told you he still was a little scared, but at least he saw the beauty in the violence of Mother Nature.                “Me too.”                “I just didn’t want to see Yeosang get hurt.”                You were hit suddenly with the realisation that Wooyoung had no idea about Yeosang’s sexuality, or his crush on him. You wouldn’t tell him, because it was up to Yeosang to tell, and that meant that you couldn’t say that it didn’t matter you had kissed Yeosang, because of obvious reasons. Instead you said: “Yeo and I discussed it earlier today. We’re not mad at each other or anything. And I figured this was the best possible time to be honest with you.”                “About what?”                “About…” you sighed lightly. “About that I might… like you?”                “You like me?” Wooyoung sounded no longer like himself, but a little more choked up, his tone of voice very serious. Was he angry at you for sharing this? For fucking up your friendship? You hadn’t even considered the consequences to your friendship, or what any of this would do to your dynamic between you two and Yeosang.                “I guess?”                “You guess or you know?”                “I don’t know. I think I do. Everyone tells me I do.”                “Well, if you don’t know, then I cannot tell you that I like you too.”                Now it was your turn to feel stunned. “What?” You had been told by Yeosang, of course, but that was different. Now you heard it right from the source, from Wooyoung himself.                “I like you too.”                “But I thought you were more into Rose,” you said. “I mean, you two… out on the patio… I thought you were more into her.”                Wooyoung shrugged, making the whole trampoline wiggle. “She’s pretty. I- Okay, I have shared so much with you before but it feels so weird saying it now.” He let out an awkward laugh before he said: “I just felt horny. You know? And Rose was there and she was horny too and she’s not a sight for sore eyes, so I thought: what’s so bad about this? I didn’t know you were showering right above us, or that you had the window open. Otherwise I would’ve probably taken her somewhere else. Or not done it at all.”                “You were just horny?” you repeated. Wooyoung nodded, the trampoline shaking again. “So no feelings for Rose then?”                “Nope,” he said, letting the p pop. “Nothing serious. Not like the way I feel for you.”                You moved over closer to him, shakily reaching out for his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it sooner. Then we wouldn’t have had to fight.”                “I should’ve told you the second I knew,” he said, taking your hand in his and squeezing it lightly. “So what made you realise? I knew you liked San-“                You blushed, which fortunately, he could not see. “Can we not talk about San right now? I mean, yes, I had a crush on him, but it was silly. I mean, I liked him when we were still in high school, you know? He was the guy every girl had a crush on and I guess I just jumped on the bandwagon. And I always thought it would be easier to hook up with him because we were already friends, but that just makes it more difficult. And I don’t know him as well as I know you. I just don’t feel what I think you’re supposed to feel when you’re in love – with him. I never noticed the way I feel about you, though, until I compared my feelings for you to what I feel for San or Yeosang.”                “Well, you’d best believe it was torture to see you kissing Yeosang, not knowing what you were truly feeling.”                “Would it be better if I kissed you instead?” And with no further words, you bridged the distance between the two of you, softly kissing his lips. Where your kiss with Yeosang had primarily taken place because you were drunk and trying to make whoever else jealous, the way you had been jealous all throughout the trip, this kiss served an entirely different purpose. It was strange too, kissing Wooyoung, whom you had known for so long and never imagined you would harbour romantic feelings for. But there was a spark, a spark that caught and ignited a flame inside of you. A flame that apparently burned inside of Wooyoung as well, for he pulled you infinitely closer, until you were on his lap.                It was very uncomfortable on that trampoline, and you were glad when a dizzyingly bright flash of lightning followed by deafening thunder caused Wooyoung to yelp. “Let’s go inside,” you said, hopping off the trampoline and pulling Wooyoung with you.                As you walked back, your hand in his, he bent down a little to whisper in your ear: “Come to my room tonight, yeah? Take your film camera.”                And so you did. After everyone had gone to bed, you sneaked out of yours to cross the floor to the room Wooyoung shared with San.

Day 4 The room smelled of boy. And not just any boy. You glanced around in the darkness, the first thing that stuck out to you being Shiber. San had brought his cuddle toy to this trip? You wondered for a second what Alice would think of her having to share the bed and San with Shiber, until you realized that she wasn’t there. You shut the door after yourself, blocking out the light from the hallway to prevent San from waking up, instead going over to Wooyoung. You set your film camera down on the night stand and when you turned to look at Woo, he was already sitting up in the bed.                “There you are,” he said. He sounded surprisingly relieved.                “Did you think I wasn’t going to show up?”                Wooyoung didn’t answer but instead pulled you onto the bed, blindly placing his hands on your cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss. Instantly, it clouded your mind with desire for him. Your head spun as he pulled you on top of him. You gasped as he let himself fall backwards onto the bed, allowing him to slip his tongue inside of your mouth. It was almost obscene – how good of a kisser Wooyoung was, how his tongue softly tapped against yours, how his hands slid down from your face to the hem of your pyjama shorts, slipping his hands under the fabric and onto your ass.                You groaned into his mouth as his hands knead your ass, pulling you closer to him. Wooyoung pulled back only a little bit, but you hated the moment, his voice slightly breathless as he said: “Don’t be too loud. San might wake.”                You glanced over to the other bed and yelped to find San already sitting upright, Shiber wrapped in his arms, just staring at you. “What the fuck!” you exclaimed.                “I’m already awake,” San said.                Wooyoung pushed himself up on his elbows. “Have you just been… listening to us? Watching us? The whole time?”                San shrugged. “It was kind of hot. Maybe next time you’ll allow me to join in.”                You looked at Wooyoung for a second, exchanging a glance. There was an unspoken conversation within that glance, a result of many years of friendship in which you had been a unit, had had an unbreakable bond. And now all of that was transforming into whatever this was, and someone was asking to partake in this same adventure with you? You gulped as you realized what you were seeing in Wooyoung’s eyes. “Fuck,” you muttered. And you nodded.                “San, come here,” Wooyoung said, his voice an octave deeper. San was quick to throw Shiber aside and make his way over to you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him move this fast, although he was as quick to come to a halt at the side of the bed. You felt your breath hitch as Wooyoung grabbed San’s shirt in his hand and pulled him closer, essentially making San topple over on the bed as he lost his balance. “I think Y/N hasn’t had enough love this trip. If you know what I mean.”                You gulped, not entirely knowing what to say. The boy you were currently into and the boy you had always been harbouring a crush on were on the bed together with you and it was pretty clear what was going to happen now. You felt a familiar wetness, synchronic with San nodding to Wooyoung’s statement. “I think we should give her whatever she wants, don’t you agree?” San nodded again. Wooyoung then turned to you: “Tell us what you want us to do.”                For a moment you were about to ask for what you had always lusted after, which was a filthy, intense make out session with San. But right now, looking at him – his shirt crumpled in the place Wooyoung had pulled him in, his hair messy from having been in bed earlier, his plump lips slightly parted and with a small tent visible through his pyjama pants – you knew what you wanted to see. And still it even surprised you a little when you said: “Kiss each other.”                San’s head shot around to look at Wooyoung, physically below the both of you but in some other way he was dominating you both. “Is that okay?”                Wooyoung leaned up only a little bit to put his hand on the back of San’s head and pull him in, their lips locking. Right off the bat there was tongue involved. You were well aware that you were staring, and well aware that there was no one to catch you staring as San increasingly got more comfortable and seemed more into the kiss. “Slowly,” you instructed. “Slowly.” They listened as if they were puppets, entirely under your control.                The kiss was somehow more heated now that they weren’t hungrily clawing at each other. You thought to yourself how this couldn’t be real life. Just a couple of days ago you had been wanting San as badly as ever, then you had thought him to belong to Alice, and now he was here. Let alone the entire situation with Wooyoung – how just a few hours ago you had still been angry with him for fingering Rose on the patio. But that was something you didn’t want to think about at that moment. “Woo, strip San for me, please.”                Wooyoung listened well – he helped San lift his arms above his head and proceeded to take off his shirt for him, tossing it aside. Next were San’s pants. It took a bit more effort to strip those and then get rid of his boxers too. “San, your turn,” you said. There was no shame visible in Wooyoung, who seemed utterly comfortable with stripping as well. They were still kissing, albeit a little bit more clumsy now San was trying to take Wooyoung’s pyjama’s off. It had never occurred to you that perhaps San wasn’t all that confident and experienced as you had taken him to be. Perhaps he had only been truly intimate with a handful of people. Perhaps this was a first for him – the first time he had a threesome. You couldn’t say you had any experience in this department either.                “Woo-“ you started, but the instructions you were about to give him stuck in your throat as Wooyoung ripped himself free off San and said: “Aren’t you going to get undressed, baby?”                Your mouth almost fell open in an o-shape at the pet name. You had never heard Wooyoung call anyone by a pet name. Let alone be the one to be called one by him. “Sorry.” You felt like you had to say sorry. Why? You weren’t sure. “San?”                San, who visibly wasn’t entirely sure what was going on but was along for the ride regardless, scooted over so he could reach for you. He was less clumsy with you, but you weren’t sure if you had to attribute that to past experiences with girls or to not being engaged in a wild make out session with you. Which quickly changed as your lips smashed together.                Now the three of you were all fully naked, everything that was uncomfortable or awkward about the situation seemed to ebb away. You wrapped your arms around San’s neck, pulling yourself up a little bit so you could rub yourself on him. You couldn’t remember how long it had been since you had started crushing on him, but you had had some fantasies and wet dreams about San before. Admittedly, you’d had them about Wooyoung too. You felt his hands sneak in between San and you and jumped a little from the sudden sensation of Wooyoung’s thumb against your clit. You were sure his other hand was wrapped around San’s shaft – there was no other explanation for the sudden noise that erupted from the boy, your kiss temporaily stopping.                “What do you want me to do, baby?” Wooyoung’s soft voice sounded.                “Hm-“ You didn’t trust yourself to be able to properly tell him what you wanted, so instead you let go of San to kiss Wooyoung instead. San chased after you, attaching his lips to your neck. The confidence he gained made you groan into Wooyoung’s mouth as San nibbled and licked and sucked, sure to leave marks behind. There were noises from San as well, noises that were only explainable by Wooyoung moving his hand on San.                It occurred to you that this was every girls’ dirtiest fantasy and you weren’t taking one second for granted. You let Wooyoung push you back onto the bed, which was in no way able to fit three people in it, but you somehow made it work. You were glad Wooyoung didn’t need any verbal instructions; softly pushing his head down, in the direction of where you needed him most, was enough. He went to work, expertly licking and sucking. It nearly made you fold in on yourself from the sheer pleasure he was giving you, but you were too busy tending to San’s proud erection, oozing precum from Wooyoung’s earlier ministrations.                You wrapped your lips around him, working your mouth in a way that was sure to earn San’s approval – it was audible in his moans and groans, ones you gave back to him from Wooyoung’s actions. San was the first to succumb. The pleasure rendered him nearly unable to speak, but you understood the little taps on your cheek well enough. You didn’t pull away however, allowing San’s cum to fill your mouth. And you swallowed.                San seemed just about spent, but he didn’t leave you hanging. Instead, he went to work on your neck again, his hands coming up to cup your boobs. San didn’t have to do much for Wooyoung had done most of the work on getting you to your high. You came with a high-pitched moan; there was a certain shyness overtaking you at the sound you hadn’t previously thought you could make. You were panting, admiring Wooyoung and your glistening juices on his lips as he came up. There was very little to no talking as you motioned for him to come closer. The sudden urge overcame you – you couldn’t explain what had triggered it. You pushed yourself up just a little bit, in a way that wouldn’t disturb San, as you pulled Wooyoung just a little bit closer, your tongue darting out to lick Wooyoung’s lips, getting a taste of yourself.                “What about you?” you asked tracing your hand down Wooyoung’s chest, down his happy trail, to his cock. “What do you want? Tell me.”                “San-ie,” he said. San looked up from his work on your neck, his eyes slightly hazy. “I want you… to suck me.” That was the first time you saw Wooyoung seem even just a little bit fazed by the situation, instead of looking like he had everything under control. “And Y/N, baby… kiss me.”                You gave San a quick kiss on his lips before coming up onto your knees so you could reach Wooyoung better. There was equal part of kissing and moaning from Wooyoung’s side – he was a lot more vocal than you had expected. The part of Wooyoung that was moaning mirrored the part of you that wanted him inside of you, but tonight was not the night. Instead, tonight was the night Wooyoung grabbed your film camera from his night stand and, in the dark, figured out how to take photos of you and San, coated in Woo’s cum. Yes, tonight was the night Wooyoung coated both you and San in cum – and then went to clean it up himself with San’s T-shirt from the floor.                “Woo,” San complained, but you both heard quite clearly that his heart wasn’t in it.                “Ssh.” Wooyoung pressed a kiss against San’s forehead and then to yours. “Let’s go to sleep.”

The bed really was too small for three people. You had thought it the night before and you were proven right the next morning, when you woke up to a yelp from a distraught San – he had fallen off the bed. He was disgustingly handsome, but your heart didn’t flutter the way it had before. What had remained the same, however, was the heat in your cheeks at the memory of what you got up to the night before, the evidence right there on San’s T-shirt, which he had picked up off the floor with a disgusted expression. “I probably won’t be able to wear this ever again. Damn you, Wooyoung.”                You were surprised to find Wooyoung awake already too, one of his arms folded behind his head. His eyes had been closed before, which lead you to believe he was still asleep, but the smile that played on his lips was unmistakably one of someone who was awake and heard every word of what San had just said.                You watched as San strode across the room and threw his T-shirt in the trash can behind the door. “I’m taking a shower,” he announced, leaving you and Wooyoung in the bed by yourselves as he closed the door behind him.                Wooyoung’s eyes stayed closed, his smile having slightly faded. You pushed yourself up on one elbow and looked at Wooyoung, really looked at him. You had known him for so many years, had gone on so many adventures with him… This was the next big adventure. You reached out, doing something you had always thought of doing but never felt confident enough to. You traced his finely shaped eyebrows, the curve of his eyes… You trailed your finger down his cheeks to rest at the corner of his lips. You were about to carefully trace his lips, full and relaxed, when Wooyoung suddenly snapped his teeth at your finger.                “Woo!” you complained, pouting at him. His eyes were open now, the brown highlighted to several shades of gold in the narrow stroke of sunlight from the window. By the way the sun shone into the room, you could see it was nearing noon. Although in that case, it wasn’t exactly morning anymore, this was by far the best morning you had spent at the farmhouse. “Why did you do that?” You let your finger fall back to his lips and this time he let you trace them, his warm breath hitting your skin. When you let his lips alone, opting to crawl into his embrace instead, you said: “San joined us last night…” Stating the obvious. Great.                “Was it good?” Wooyoung asked, his hand coming up to play with your hair.                “Yeah. I liked it.”                “Me too.” You could hear from his tone of voice – delicious, delicious morning voice – that he was smiling. “I hope San had a good time too. But next time I want you all to myself.”                You felt your heart flutter at his words. There was a next time and that next time would consist of you and Wooyoung exploring each other. You were absolutely certain that this was the best morning at the farmhouse – you felt like the happiest girl on earth. You didn’t know what to say, so instead you just hummed in agreement.                “Would you like me to bring you breakfast?” Wooyoung asked after a while.                “Eggs and sausages,” you said.                “Ooh, making demands now? Actually using your words?” He chuckled and tapped your shoulder, signalling you to get up so he could move. You pushed yourself up and watched as Wooyoung got out of bed. With his back toward you, you saw his muscles stand out as he bend to pick up his shirt off the floor. The room was a mess. “Any preferences for your breakfast beverage, milady?”                You grinned. “The finest tea you serve, milord.”                “Of course.” He bowed before making his way out of the room.                As you were left alone in Wooyoung’s bed you tried to wrap your head around the events of the night before. Coming to the farmhouse you had never expected that this was the way you would end the trip. You hadn’t even suspected anything remotely like this would happen. You got out of bed, dressing yourself in the clothes from the night before, before crossing the room to open up the window.                You had just crawled back into bed, sitting up with your back against the wall, when San came back, his hair wet and a towel hung lowly around his waist. He closed the door behind him and got to getting dressed as you watched him. The silence between the two of you was palpable but nonetheless quite comfortable. You wouldn’t know what to say anyway.                “I didn’t mean to insert myself,” San suddenly spoke up, sitting down on the edge of his bed, clutching Shiber to his chest, “in between you and Woo. I know it was all quite new to you both.”                You shrugged, leaning your head against the wall. “We both wanted it. You didn’t insert yourself in at all. Was it good?” you couldn’t help yourself asking.                San nodded, his cheeks turning pink. “I hadn’t expected it.”                “Believe me, me neither.” You looked at the way San was playing with Shiber’s tail. “It was really new to us,” you then said, surprising the both of you. “I mean, we were friends. And now we’re more.”                “I think everyone saw it coming.”                “I don’t think so,” you said, shaking your head. “You know, I was always crushing on you.”                “You were?” San looked up, stopping his playful antics with Shiber. “I didn’t notice.”                You nodded. “It was a long time crush. But there’s a difference between crushing on someone and loving someone. I realised that because I watched you and Alice.”                There was no response to the mention of Alice. You found you didn’t really care. San resumed playing with Shiber, but his eyes stayed trained on you. “So why Yeosang?”                “Vengeance.” You knew how terrible that sounded but there was no other word for it. “He was… there. I know it’s wrong. But I needed to know why I felt so jealous of Rose.” With a sigh you let yourself fall sideways onto the bed. “Now I do. And now I know why I don’t love you. Not in that way.”                The door opened to reveal Wooyoung carrying a tray, a literal mountain of food on the plate that he carried, a tea pot and three cups next to it. “Breakfast!” He set the tray down on the floor, and despite the mess that was the room, the three of you crowded around the tray to eat the breakfast Wooyoung had prepared.                The idyllic bubble of Woosan’s room had to be broken some time. You regretted stepping foot out of the room the second you did it, but you felt dirty so you wanted to shower, and besides that, you had to pack up the rest of your belongings to return home. You got into the shower, the same one you had been in the first day. The window was cracked open, letting in the sounds of nature and summer. You shut your eyes, enjoying the feeling of the water scorching your body.                Yechan was waiting for you in your bedroom when you got back to pack up. “I know where you went last night. I’m glad I didn’t have to hear it. I know Seonghwa and Sooyoung had a front row seat though.” She smiled. “So, you have to tell me all the details. How was your first threesome?”                “Yechan!” you covered your face with your hands. “I’m not going to talk about this with you.”                “Okay, maybe without details, then,” she said. “At least tell me you had a good time.”                You lowered your hands a little bit to look at her. Your best friend, with you through everything… “It was really good.” You bit your lip at the excitement that erupted from Yechan. Her happiness rubbed off on you, though, and soon enough you were, despite yourself, telling her just a few details. Like San having to throw out his shirt afterwards. You left out the pictures Wooyoung took of you and San. Those were private.                “Are you in a polyamorous relationship now?” she asked, her eyes wide and genuine.                You shook your head. “I don’t think so. I think it’s just me and Woo.”                Yechan nodded. “That’s good too.” She took your hand and softly squeezed, her smile saying more than words ever could.

The next person you had to talk to was Yeosang. You were carrying your bags out to the car when he popped up beside you. “Let’s go on the trampoline,” he said. You nodded, following him across the backyard to the trampoline, overlooking the vineyard. It was better in the day than it was last night.                The little kids in you jumped out by the way you nearly toppled over each other to get onto the trampoline, performing tricks as you jumped. After a bit you let yourself fall down, out of breath. “Yeo, I need to tell you something,” you said and he stopped jumping as well. “I had s-“                “Sex with Wooyoung. I know,” he said.                “You do?” Okay, perhaps you weren’t right to be surprised he knew. If you had to believe Yechan, the three of you hadn’t been very quiet. “I mean- San was there with us too.”                “I know. I heard everything,” Yeosang sat down on the trampoline now too. “The walls are pretty thin, you know.”                “I’m sorry.”                “You’re sorry that I heard?”                You chuckled. “Yes, that too. But also that I did that. Now that I know you like him-“                “It doesn’t matter,” Yeosang said, turning his head to look up at the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. “He’s not into guys anyway and I know how much you two like each other. I haven’t been completely blind over the last couple of years, you know? I’ll find someone that likes me like that and that I’ll like back. I’m fine with what happened. Don’t worry about me.”                “If you’re so sure,” you said, looking up at the sky too. “I just feel guilty.”                “Don’t.” Yeosang reached over and grabbed your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “Just know that Rose also heard and she’s crazy upset with you two.”                You sat up, looking over at him. “Just about how many people have heard every single second of last night?”                “How many people are with us on the trip?” Yeosang started counting on his fingers. “So 13. Except maybe Mingi. He was out cold. That makes 12.”                “Jesus Christ,” you swear. And you do so again when you return to the farmhouse to find Rose already storming out to find you. Apparently someone had told her you and Yeosang were hanging out on the trampoline. There’s a look in her eyes that you’re not sure you ever want to see in anyone’s eyes ever again. It speaks of all-consuming anger. “Rose-“ you start. And that’s also where you end. She didn’t even take the time or effort to talk it out. Her first reaction was violence.                You had always jealously compared Rose’s visuals to that of an angel, but the way she lashed out at you proved she was all but that. “You slut!” she shrieked, her nails finding a hold in your skin. You barely felt the pain as she raked her nails down your face. You had never thought of yourself as a violent person, but you also weren’t the person to back down from someone attacking you like this. Your pent up frustrations were threatening to spill out of you in a violent manner, but before you could do much damage to her, Mingi’s strong arms wrapped around you, picking you up as if you weighed absolutely nothing, carrying you away as Jongho did the same to Rose, who was now clawing at him.                Mingi set you down on the countertop of the downstairs bathroom, checking you for injuries like the worried big brother he always acts like towards you. “You’re bleeding.” He grabbed tissues for you to hold against the wound, as if that would help much. Silly, hungover Mingi.                “She has sharp nails,” you said, wincing as you pressed the tissues against the marks.                Wooyoung came storming in, carrying a white box with a red cross on it. “First aid!” he said, to which Mingi nodded and left. You bet he knew why Rose had got violent with you too. “I didn’t know she was going to do that,” Wooyoung said, opening up the first aid kit.                “It’s fine,” you said. “Did I at least fight her off a little bit?”                He laughed. “God, that that’s the first thing you’re thinking about… Here, you’re bleeding.” He got to work, cleaning up the scratches Rose’s nails left behind on your face and arm. His fingers were soft on your skin, leaving behind a trail of heat. Even though you hadn’t known him to be very skilled with cleaning up wounds and bandaging up injuries, he was doing quite a good job. Better than Mingi would have done, had this been his job to do. “And the way you stood your ground was pretty hot, Y/N.”                You chuckled. “You’re just saying that.” You looked at Wooyoung as he took expert care of you, the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration, a habit you had always loved about him. You realized suddenly how blind you had been all along not to notice him, or his love for you. You had never actively fantasized about Wooyoung in a sexual way, although you had sometimes wondered what it would be like to have a romantic relationship with him. In your mind it had never worked out, whereas a relationship with San would seem the most plausible. He had always been the one boy you thought you would end up with, if it was going to be anyone out of the friend group. Everyone had known each other for varying lengths and with different intensities, something which had never lead you to believe that you and Wooyoung would be a good match.                “What are you looking at?” Wooyoung asked, chuckling, throwing away the stuff he had used to clean and bandage your wound.                “You,” you said, no trace of shyness.                “Like what you see?” Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows, his classic playfulness erasing what you had felt over the past couple of days, leaving only behind what you had always thought to be simple, platonic feelings for your best friend. But now you knew it was more.                You shrugged. “I think you could do better, but this’ll have to do.” You stuck out your feet, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him closer. “Thanks for stitching me up.”                “I’m sorry about Rose,” he said, his arms coming to rest around your waist. “Take the same car as me back?”                “So you can finger me in the backseat while no one notices?” You chuckled at the surprise on his face. Must be due to your sudden dirty mouth. “No, thanks. I’ll ride with Yunho and Jongho. But maybe we can see each other when we get back? Get lunch, or dinner… Go out on a real date…”                “A real date.” Wooyoung nodded. “Sounds wonderful.”

Alternative scene How the ‘morning after’ would have had gone, had I decided to stick with the shower Woosan x reader threesome I had originally planned to happen after the initial Wooyoung x reader sex scene

The room smells. Of what you’re not entirely sure, but it’s sour and makes your nose crunch up as you slowly open your eyes, only to find Wooyoung next to you. His dark brown hair was curling up at the ends and his mouth was slightly open, his chest bare. You had managed to wrap most of the blankets around yourself, leaving Wooyoung uncovered. Not just his chest was bare. You draped the blankets over him and in the process, noticed you were only wearing a T-shirt. That’s it. Just a T-shirt. When you glance underneath the covers, you see it’s Woo’s, one you got together while he was shopping for his First Date T-Shirt, nearly 4 years ago now. You smiled to yourself at the memory and turned onto your back.                That’s when you realize that it wasn’t just you and Wooyoung in the room. “San!” You pull up the covers again to cover yourself, even though there’s no bit of you left uncovered. He’s casually resting on his bed, eyes trained on you and Wooyoung in the bed.                “Good morning. What a coincidence I catch you here. Morning, Woo.”                “San,” Wooyoung groans out from next to you. He seems utterly unfazed to see you laying next to him. He must know you’re wearing nothing but his T-shirt. You also reckon San must know what has happened between you and Wooyoung. “Aren’t you supposed to complain about your headache?”                “I think throwing up prevented my headache,” San said, pointing at a bucket at his side of the room, standing half under half next to his bed. You guessed that was what the sour smell was all about. “Aren’t you two supposed to be even a little bit ashamed that you two had steamy, hot sex while I was literally in the same room with you?”                “I just seized the opportunity,” Wooyoung said, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you against him. “And you were asleep.”                “Apparently not,” San said. “I was miserable, though. Maybe next time you decide to fuck each other again, you could invite me.”                “Oh, shut up,” you said, hiding your face in Woo’s chest. This is really just way worse than seeing San and Alice kissing on the edge of the swimming pool or Wooyoung fingering Rose while you’re in the shower. This is humiliation of a different kind.                “Why were you actually listening to us?” Wooyoung said.                San shrugged. “Like I said, I was miserable. Couldn’t sleep, especially not with those sounds. Disgusting. What would Rose say?” That remark landed him with Wooyoung’s pillow in his face. “Okay, yes, that was slightly mean. Sorry. Will it make you feel better if I say it was kind of hot though? Like, I don’t know what you did that made Y/N go like-“ He made a noise that landed him with your pillow in his face. “Okay, yes, shouldn’t have said that. But! Promise me next time you won’t let me get so drunk I won’t be able to join in, yeah?”                “Would you actually want to join?” you said. You weren’t sure if you were completely disgusted by this morning conversation with San, or if you were getting turned on again. You also weren’t entirely sure if you would have had Wooyoung pin you down underneath him if you had known San was in the bed opposite.                “Could be hot,” Woo said.                “Honestly, it’s been on my to-do list,” San said. “A threesome with someone who claims himself to be a sex god and also the hottest girl from high school? I wouldn’t say no to that.”                “You tell others you’re a sex god?” you laughed at Wooyoung who turned a suspicious shade of pink.

[firewoodfigs]

Hey Friend, I know I'm a bit late with this but how about - "an answer to the prompt ‘fevered forehead kisses’" Thanks. :)

here you go, friend!! this one’s for you and @brucestephenbucky, who both requested an answer to the prompt ‘fevered forehead kisses’ :) 

[also, this turned out to be longer than expected (~3k words), so it’s on ao3 as well! for easier reading, all that stuff xD]

Summary: In which Riza is down with a cold, and Roy is both anxious and painfully oblivious. Also, Roy has to conquer his greatest nemesis yet: carrots. (young Royai) 

~x~

Riza Hawkeye always woke up by sunrise. This was an immutable fact of life; as unchanging as the fact that the sun would rise every morning from the east. Not once had Roy seen her sleep in — not even on the weekends.

But today was different.

The sun had already risen long ago, and the roosters were back with their awful crowing. And even the morning dew that embraced the paltry patches of yellowing grass outside with timeless regularity was starting to evaporate by now.

Still, Riza was nowhere to be found.

Roy’s first thought was that she’d gone on one of her routine grocery trips. But Riza Hawkeye was the human incarnation of efficiency, if nothing else. Unlike his sisters, who had an uncanny tendency to get distracted by other things along the way (because apparently every girl loved shopping on a biological level, or so they claimed), grocery shopping was something she could easily complete in about a half an hour or less.

And it had been nearly two hours since he’d waited idly by the fireplace for Riza to come in through the front porch with that shy, contented smile that she always wore in the morning.

Believing that this might’ve been a rare, life-changing occasion where Riza wanted to experience the wonders of sleeping in, Roy therefore took it upon himself to prepare breakfast for the both of them. Typically, this wasn’t preferable, as he was only capable of making two things that were remotely edible: toasts, and eggs. (Not even fried eggs. Boiled eggs, because those were impossible to screw up.) To make up for the slightly burnt toast, Roy brewed a sweet, soothing mixture of chamomile tea with cinnamon.

Then he laid everything out on the dining table and hoped for the best.

Fifteen minutes passed. Breakfast was beginning to cool down. The mugs were no longer steaming; in them only a lukewarm stillness that reflected his lonely, worried expression.  

Roy bit into the burnt edge of a piece of toast, consulting the grandfather clock down by the inordinately large hallway.

The empty hallway.

Ten-hundred hours.

Roy sighed into his tea. Ten more minutes, he decided. Ten more minutes. If Riza wasn’t down by then, he’d go upstairs and check on her instead.

In the end, Roy found himself dragging his feet up the old, creaky stairs. He balanced the tray delicately on one hand, and knocked at her door gently with the other.

“Miss Riza?” Roy called softly, deciding against dropping the honorific. (Riza might’ve given him permission to call her by her first name, but she still was not taking the liberty of addressing him as such.)

Silence.

Roy knocked again.

The tray wobbled precariously.

“Miss Riza?”

A groan resounded from the other end, before he heard footsteps padding softly towards him. Then the door opened to reveal Riza in all her pale, half-awake glory.

To say that she was a mess was a bit of an understatement. Her hair was uncombed and completely disheveled (very much unlike her usual self); cheeks flushed a deep scarlet — a stark contrast against the sickly pallor of her countenance.

“Mister Mustang,” Riza rasped weakly. But her demeanour was quick to shift once she caught sight of the tray in his hands. Instantly she straightened like a soldier standing at attention, back straight and shoulders tense. “I’m so sorry — what time is it?”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Roy reassured hastily. “It’s about ten —“ Riza’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened like she was about to admonish herself for not getting started on her endless list of chores earlier, “— but don’t worry about it. Are you sick?”

A shiver wracked through her petite frame, one that she tried miserably to conceal by wrapping her thin arms around herself. “I’m not,” Riza lied unconvincingly. “I —“

“Have a lot to do, I know,” Roy interjected, biting back a sigh at her stubbornness. God, the girl really needed to get her priorities straight. “But you’re obviously unwell. And besides, I already made you breakfast. I didn’t do such a bad job, see? I even managed to make you your tea just the way you like it...”

“I — thank you,” she muttered, turning away to sneeze daintily into the crook of her elbow. “But really, it’s just a minor cold. You didn’t have to...” Riza trailed off as another shudder assaulted her.

Roy pursed his lips, somewhat bemused by her insistence (and poor attempts at deceit). He cleared his throat and straightened, imitating the tone that his indomitable sisters used whenever he was trying to wriggle his way out of drinking some weird, medicinal concoction. “It clearly doesn’t sound like a minor cold. You should rest before it gets worse.”

“But...”

“No buts, Miss Riza.”

Roy set the tray down on her bedside table, then strode back to where she was. Gingerly, Roy put a hand on her shoulder. When she didn’t flinch from the contact, he gently guided her back towards her bed. Riza didn’t protest. Instead, she was quick to settle back down, clutching onto her blankets for dear life — as if the short walk to her door had sapped her of all her energy.

“Just rest, okay? I’ll take care of everything else.”

Evidently too weak to argue further, Riza nodded and coughed into a fist. “I’m really sorry for the trouble —“

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he nearly exclaimed, a little frustrated by her self-deprecating logic. In what universe was it someone’s fault for falling sick — something that was not even within one’s realm of control? “Just let me know if you need anything, okay? A doctor, medicine, whatever. It’s what friends do for each other.”

“Friends...” she mumbled, eyes averted — in embarrassment? He couldn’t tell. Despite the remarkable progression in their relationship, Riza Hawkeye was still very much an enigma.

“Friends,” Roy affirmed, fluffing the coverlet a little before leaving hastily, his own heart pounding in his throat.

~x~

Roy spent the rest of the day dusting the window panes, sweeping the carpeted floors and drying the laundry in between studying for his upcoming test. More than once he’d spotted Riza coming down the stairs, meandering around the hallways aimlessly like she was inspecting for non-existent dust under the guise that she was just about to pour herself another glass of water.

Roy was quick to see through her excuses, however, and had ushered her back into her room with a full jug of water instead. Every hour or so, he’d go up to check on Riza, a warm cup of freshly-made ginger tea in his hands (a remedy that his aunt swore by, despite its repulsive taste) and constant reassurances that he was doing just fine with the chores.

When evening-time came around, Riza appeared in the kitchen, eyes bleary and nose pink. Roy withheld the urge to roll his eyes.

How stubborn could one person get? And was there — no, would there ever be a point where she’d come to spare a thought for herself? To put herself ahead of others?

Probably not, he thought wryly.

“I’m a lot better, really,” she sniffed, huddling an old, tattered shawl around her for warmth. (Roy made a mental note to get a new cardigan for her — one that was thicker; more suited for unfortunate days like these. Maybe a pink, fluffy one that matched her secret femininity.) “I should start making dinner.”

Right. He’d completely forgotten about that.

“I can take care of that,” he said. Riza quirked a brow at him, unconvinced. Roy shoved his wounded ego back down his throat and tried again. “Really. I’ll just make up a simple stew for us.”

What could possibly be so hard about throwing a few ingredients into boiling water, right? He’d just have to wait for the ingredients to work their magic. And if they didn’t, then he’d have to trust in the mythical powers of sesame oil and salt to save the day. Or so he’d gleaned from his sisters’ numerous mishaps in the kitchen and Riza’s incredible cooking.

“... Please don’t trouble yourself, Mister Mustang.”

“Nonsense. You’re always troubling yourself for my — for our sakes,” he insisted, guiding her towards the living room. Riza opened her mouth like she was about to protest. And Roy scrambled for a better argument. Something that might work on her desire to avoid causing trouble to others at all costs, perhaps? “Think of it this way. You’ll be - um, it’ll be worse if you pass out in the middle of the kitchen while cooking.”  

After a long, contemplative moment, Riza relented and stepped back hesitantly. “Try not to burn anything down.”

This was a remarkable challenge, but Roy Mustang was not one to back down from challenges. Instead he nodded, solemn. “I won’t.”

Riza nodded, settling herself on the old rocking chair by the fireplace for warmth. The evening was remarkably chilly tonight, however, and so Roy tucked his coat securely around her, ever thankful that his reclusive hermit of a teacher did not choose to grace them with his presence at that moment.

Then he scurried back into the kitchen like a mouse and began rifling through the lower compartments of the fridge.

To his dismay, Roy found the following items: corn, cabbage, and carrots. Naturally he despised them all, since they belonged to that vile, disgusting category of food known as vegetables.  

But carrots. God, carrots were the worst of them all. Those malicious sticks of bright orange clearly hated him with a deep-seeded passion, and so did he. Things never turned out well whenever he was forced to work with them in the kitchen.

Unless one considered multiple cuts and band-aids ‘well’.

Still, he was determined to make Riza a decent, hearty meal tonight. (Or maybe not ‘hearty’ -- that implied that he was a good cook, which was a little ambitious. More like edible, perhaps.)

Inhaling deeply, Roy rolled up his sleeves and set about to work once he found Riza’s little recipe book. But determination soon melted into frustration after he’d chopped up cobs of corn and sliced potatoes and had to face his greatest adversary in the world: carrots.

And after a lot of groaning and grunting and wheezing, Roy somehow ended up peeling more of his own skin than the carrot’s; a feat he hadn’t even thought possible until now.

… Like he said, they really hated him.

“Damn it,” Roy cursed softly under his breath, not wanting to wake the sleeping blonde. He quickly rinsed them under running water, then rummaged through the cabinets for a box of band-aids.

Torn between mild amusement and self-pity, Roy stuck them over the numerous cuts decorating his poor fingers and sighed.

Well.

Nothing like a few lacerations to prove his gallantry, right?

Still, Riza’s fitful, shuddering frame was all the motivation he needed to conquer the menacing abomination. At least most of them were chopped up by now, even if they looked nothing like the neat wedges that Riza usually managed to cut them into.

But it was all the same in one’s stomach, he reasoned.

Mindful to not set the kitchen ablaze, Roy got back to work and began dumping everything into the pot.

~x~

By some miraculous stroke of luck, the kitchen was still intact about an hour later. Roy popped back into the living room with a wooden tray holding two bowls of vegetable soup, billowing clouds of steam curling around his face.

“Hey,” he called gently. Riza cracked an eyelid open, still semi-conscious. “I made us some soup for dinner. Think you can get up for some?”

“I - oh,” Riza mumbled. Her face fell slightly as she adjusted herself on the seat.

Roy got the nagging feeling that she was about to apologise once more for not helping.

“I mean, it’s not the best, but it tasted… edible,” he cajoled. Barely edible, actually. It’d tasted bland, sort of watery; but Roy had been too afraid to add in more salt or seasoning for fear of screwing the whole thing up entirely.

One could only hope that the cold had muffled her taste buds.

“Thank you,” she said softly. They ate together in companionable silence; metal clinking gently against ceramic as the fire crackled.

Roy resisted the urge to scrunch his face up at the blandness of it all.

Riza, on the other hand, did not appear to have any qualms about the simple fare; she made no comment on his ostensible lack of talent in the kitchen. Instead she flashed him a small, grateful smile that warmed his heart immensely.

“How are you feeling?”

“A little better, I think.” Almost inaudibly, Riza added, “Thank you. For all of this, I mean. I really appreciate it.”

Roy beamed. “It’s no problem. Like I said, you’re always doing so much for our benefit. It’s the least I can do.”

Roy got up to clear the dishes before she could, once they were done with dinner. By this point, however, Riza was clearly too tired to argue. She waited by the fireplace as he rinsed the bowls; a shivering cocoon of blankets and soft sneezes.

And like a panicked mother hen, Roy started fussing. Without warning he helped Riza up, bringing her close so that she could lean on him for support. She was dangerously warm to the touch, he realised. It seemed her fever hadn’t broken yet, and he could feel the goosebumps trailing up her skin as they walked.

“Mister Mustang,” she called feebly, flushing scarlet.

“Hm?” he asked, oblivious to the heat crawling up his own neck.

Gently, he led Riza up the stairs and guided Riza back into her room.

“Are you sure you’re alright? I can go get a doctor or something, if you need…”

It’d be hard to get one at this hour, especially out in the isolated countryside, but the boy was willing to do anything to help his friend feel better.

“N-no. I’ll be better once I get some rest, really,” she said, almost pleadingly as she nestled underneath the inviting coverlets.

Catching sight of her wide and frightened eyes, Roy instantly swallowed his earlier words. “A-alright,” he said worriedly, caught in a bit of a dilemma himself. “I’ll stay with you, then. Just rest, okay?”

Feverish and utterly enervated, Riza offered him a tiny, hesitant nod and drifted back to sleep.

~x~

For the rest of the night, Roy stayed by Riza’s side like he was holding some sort of sad, long vigil, changing the damp towel on her forehead every hour or so. But her fever did not subside. If anything, it only got worse. Delirium was starting to kick in. At some point she’d started muttering imploringly for her — mother?

Roy’s heart shattered.

How many ill, lonely nights had she endured aloneafter her mother’s passing, all because she wanted to avoid inconveniencing her negligent father? Riza was strong, yes, maybe even almost to the point of being invincible. But she was still very much a child. She was only thirteen, for heavens’ sake! Yet the girl always carried herself with an independence and maturity that far exceeded their peers’ — the sort that could only have been derived from hardship and misfortune. And Roy found himself feeling something akin to guilt and sympathy and admiration, for a girl who’d been forced to grow up far too soon because of her predicament.

Overcome by some profound, unknown emotion, Roy leaned forward and brushed her damp, matted fringe aside to press a chaste kiss on her forehead.

“Get well soon,” he murmured.

Riza fidgeted slightly. For a moment, Roy thought she was about to regain consciousness. And all of a sudden he became acutely aware of what he had done: he’d trespassed some unspoken boundary and kissedher.

Roy recoiled sharply like he’d been struck. He leaned back into his seat, running a hand over his scruffy hair and crossed his arms decisively over his chest; an exercise of self-restraint. What was he doing, anyway? Taking advantage of his friend in her sleep? 

God forbid he do so! Roy had grown up learning that women were to be treated with utmost respect. The importance of chivalry had been indoctrinated in him from the time he’d learnt how to walk, and he was not about to engage in any sort of funny business. Nope. Definitely not.

(He would be lying, however, if he said Riza wasn’t adorable while she was asleep like that.)

Fortunately for him, Riza was sound asleep. She was still shivering, though, so Roy drew the blankets up and readjusted the towel on her forehead. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she rolled over on her side.

Content that he was able to bring his friend some comfort, Roy lolled back into the seat to take a short nap, not seeming to mind in the least the inevitable stiff neck that awaited him.

Beside him, Riza let out a small smile as she tugged his coat closer around herself.

[regrettablewritings]

Might i request numbers 2, 11, 16 & 28 for Doctor Strange?

I sincerely hope that it’s fine that I’m only working with knowledge plucked from Doctor Strange, Thor Ragnarok, and Infinity War because that’s literally all I have to work with 😅😅 Stuff’s below the cut!

2. Who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better?: There have been very few times in his life where Stephen has actually felt particularly sorry for himself. Hell, the most recent had been when he felt he wasn’t making any progress during his training in Kamar Taj. But all that quickly changed: He was able to become sure of himself, trust his instincts, and use his wits and skills to gain the upper hand. He wasn’t his old egotistical self anymore, however: He had emerged more humble, more aware and mature.

You were far from terrible, you knew this much. You were smart, funny, hard-working, and able to listen while also thinking for yourself. You had to be: Otherwise, Stephen wouldn’t have looked to you as his pupil, much less his lover. After all, Stephen himself was a man of some kind of standard. He would have to be, wouldn’t he? He went from world-renowned doctor to magic-user to Sorcerer Supreme, capable of wielding the Time Stone with ease. He helped to save the world on two separate occasions!

. . . And then there was you: You didn’t come from a particularly stellar background; you’d worked hard just to get to New York and stay afloat; you almost wanted to consider it fate or sheer dumb luck that you had not only come upon the Sanctum, but fell into its guardian’s good graces enough for him to not only offer you training, but his rather elusive love as well. And for that, you were thankful! . . . But also anxious.

Sometimes, the imposter syndrome would hit you hard. Sometimes, you felt you just weren’t able to connect with your Sling Ring properly, or focus enough to properly meditate. Sometimes, you swore that Stephen could see right through you and realize that that beautiful tapestry of potential he thought he saw in you all that time ago had a string loose. And all he would need to do was pull it to unravel and reveal to him that you weren’t anything special or anyone worth investing his precious time into.

There would even be times where the two of you would be enjoying each other’s company, sharing tea and baked goods he grabbed from the nearby deli, and your thoughts would go something like, “Wow . . . I can’t believe he’s my boyfriend . . . Wow . . . I can’t believe he’s my boyfriend . . . Wow . . . I can’t believe he’s . . . my boyfriend . . .” And suddenly, the romantic reveries would crumble into dust, leaving in their wake a trail of insecurities and questioning as to whether you actually belonged here, with him or in the Sanctum.

The blessing of having Stephen Strange as a boyfriend is that for such a snarky guy, he’s quite introspective. The curse of having Stephen Strange as a boyfriend is that for such an introspective guy, he’s not always the best with words. Soft words, that is. He does try his best, of course, but Strange just frankly isn’t the best for the soft-hearted. He may consider or actually go ahead and contemplate the different paths he could take before deciding on the proper words to say or actions to take. But eventually, he does make his move:

“Did you know that you’re my favorite person?” he asks you. You blink. The cuddling session was honestly more than enough to startle you, given that between the two of you, Stephen is the less physically forthcoming. But for him to say something so . . . sweet? You’re downright stunned! You contemplate what you should even respond with. Thanking him would be too weird, arguing would be ridiculous --

“You literally know a bunch of people who saved the world,” you blurt. You can’t see it, but you can definitely feel that cocky smirk of his.

“Mhm. I also know plenty of people and beings from across the galaxy. Different dimensions, too. And yet! You’re my absolute favorite to be with.” He gives your middle a squeeze. “And you know I don’t take that lightly; so always remember that.” He punctuates this statement with a kiss. Admittedly, part of you wants to continue snarking at him, to continue dwelling in what you’re positive must be the reality of your situation. But then it click with you: This is the reality of your situation: Stephen wanting to be with you, as you are, is reality. And there’s no other one he’d rather be in. And frankly, neither would you.

“So how often did you manipulate time just to get this right?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

11. What do they hide from one another?: It’s not exactly hidden, but it’s not exactly spoken about, either. You always suspected that Stephen would sometimes manipulate time or his ability to see into alternate realities to bring about the best outcome. Of course, he does them when it’s absolutely necessary such as in dangerous or complex situations. Thankfully, those don’t happen very often.

However, every so often, Stephen will use it for more mundane situations. He used it once to help win an argument and he honestly felt guilty about it and decided to go back and just let things progress as they were meant to, even if he wasn’t particularly excited about the outcome. The alternative was to just look into the multiple ways a situation could play out, but he still keeps quiet about this as it can still come across as cheating.

As said before, you have your suspicions but don’t talk about it. You don’t really know how to even bring it up to him. Thankfully, he seems to be doing this less . . .

(For a less serious thing he hides, rumor has it that Christine has video evidence of Stephen being forced to do karaoke at the annual holiday party. He’s buzzed enough to want the attention, but sober enough to not enjoy the means through which he must get the attention.)

As for you, it’s simply a little place you found. Nothing major, just a nice, foresty area where it’s not too warm, not too cold. Just plain pleasant and calm. You found it while using your sling ring after getting into an argument with Stephen; you just thought of a place to calm down and voila! A lush, green woodland area, quiet and away from civilization, became available to you.

You know it’s nothing serious if Stephen were to know -- you were certain he would respect your space enough to just let you have this. But for some reason, there’s a sweetness added on by it being a secret. Like it’s just completely your own little hideaway, granted to you by your own efforts and not by Stephen directing you to think about it or go there. Sure, there are times where you’re sitting along the bumpy and knotted roots of a large tree and you’re wishing it was Stephen’s softer, warm lap. But until you’re ready to bring him here and break the pureness of the forest further, this will be your Sanctum away from the Sanctum.

16. When the zombie apocalypse comes, how do they cope together?: If a zombie outbreak hits, your powers are going to be kicked into overdrive. Stephen would likely try to use his powers to open portals to other planets that you two could perhaps survive on, but in the event that that’s not doable and you must remain earth-bound, you’ll both be using your sling rings to hop from place to place as necessary. Once you two get somewhere safe enough, he’s prone to attempting meditation so that he can look into alternate versions of where the two of you could possibly head. He informs you a lot more about what he sees than he did before, your input definitely mattering.

Meanwhile, you’ve always been better with defensive magic than conjuring or multiplying. If Stephen needs to focus on something, you’re not afraid to act somewhat as his bodyguard, though he’s more than capable of doing so himself. Which he is unafraid to remind you of. . . . Okay, you’re actually afraid. You’re very afraid. But you can’t let him know that. You want to be strong for him, for him to see you as competent enough to give him one less thing to worry about.

All the while, he’s trying to be even more calm and composed. This should be easy, right? He’s been through far worse. He’s literally been on a nearly endless loop of death, has actually died, and it was all good! But this . . . This, he’s not too entirely certain about. He can’t use the Time Stone and expect very many outcomes, much less ones that go perfectly in your favor. But he can’t show weakness; not now. He’s got to be there for you, you’re all one another has now.

You two can survive this, but to say there won’t be some tough decisions and potential arguments ahead would be lying.

28. Why do they get jealous?: Your jealousy doesn’t stem from how other women interact with Stephen -- he’s hardly ever even around other people in general, much less a particular type who wouldn’t respect the boundaries of another’s relationship. You’re actually jealous of his power: The fact that magic seems to come so easily to him, that he seems to need to only glance at a page of whatever and immediately have all the knowledge he needs, it’s all just frustrating to you!

Interestingly, it’s actually Stephen who gets on the defense if he thinks someone’s coming around flirting with you. He’s not insecure about his smarts and ability to hold your attention, but he does know that sometimes he can be an acquired taste even to you. So sometimes when the two of you are out for a walk or grabbing groceries are just on a simple date, he can’t help but stare down that guy whom he thinks is getting a little too chummy with you. You’re vibing way too easily together and he’s not enthused at the idea of some common schmuck putting the moves on his woman.

Of course, all Stephen needs to do is pause time for a little bit, restart it, and suddenly the dog on its walk will suddenly be at the guy’s pants, shoving his nose up his butt, looking for a hotdog wienie that just suddenly appeared in his underwear.

“What a weirdass,” Stephen will mutter as he grabs your hand, leading you away to enjoy the ice cream cone he’d just returned to you with. “Who just keeps an extra wiener in their pocket? You think he likes dogs in a weird way?”

You scowl, giving his hand an upset squeeze. “That was rude, Stephen!” you scold. But the Sorcerer Supreme is unfazed. If anything, the smirk on his face is more than amused.

“Oh, please,” he says. “You loved it.”

You grumble, deciding to focus your attention on your ice cream cone. You know it won’t hide your smile, but you can’t go feeding his ego by letting him know you like it when he gets like this over you.

Thank you for asking and for your patience!

[werevulvi]

Hi, could you tell me more about your autism and diagnosis and how you deal with it, how old you were diagnosed

I don't know a lot about my autism, tbh, as I never bothered to read up on it and I was never properly informed on it. But what I do know is that I learned slowly as a kid, learned to walk at age 3, was very clumsy (like medically abnormally clumsy physically, could barely run at all and couldn't climb, etc) required special treatment to learn how to eat as a toddler because I hated the sensory experience of solid food and chewing, I was incapable of understanding sarcasm, interpreted everything literally, I was stimming a lot, had monotone body language and speech, etc. I was very obviously "different" according to my parents already from around age 1 or 2, and required literally constant attention for the first 4 years of my life. Started daycare at age 4, in small groups.

Then as I started school at age 6, apparently the school nurse had told my parents that I'm probably autistic, so I consider that my "inofficial diagnosis" but they decided to ignore that and didn't tell me (until 10 years later.) I was bullied in school for being "the weird kid" by both classmates and teachers who thought I was a retard and annoying, basically, I guess. I was called a freak and weirdo a lot. But like I was proudly a weirdo, and resented normativity.

As I got up into ages 10-12 my depression and DID symptoms (alter) kinda took over and became more prominent than my autism symptoms, as I wasn't as physically clumsy anymore and started learning social cues. My mental health continued to decline over the next few years, until I sought out therapy on my own at age 16. It led me to doing my first few suicide attempts, which led me to ending up at a closed psychiatric ward.

While staying there for a few weeks, I got evaluated for autism (without knowing that's what I was tested for) as well as a few physical things, such as my hearing impairment and chronic headache. And those tests led to an official Asperger Syndrome diagnosis, when I was 16, by the very end of year 2005. I also got diagnosed with borderline psychosis and mild depression, and got pumped full of anti-depressants and anti-psychotic (neuroleptic) drugs. Then my mom finally told me that she basically always knew about my autism, and I was really pissed at her for not having told me before. I resented my autism diagnosis right from the start, and the older I got, the more I resented it. Never identified with it, only ever saw it as a huge burden.

Then throughout the rest of my teens, I went to a school for neurodivergent people (basically upper high school) but still flunked it. I was a complete and utter mess, and got little to no actual therapy. They just kept shoving me around from one psychiatric department to another, due to my comorbid issues, no one could help me, it seemed. Every once in a while I'd make another half assed suicide attempt to make them take me seriously, which only worked for a few months at a time. In total, I've made 19 suicide attemps over 12 years. Oh lord, psychiatry was so bad!

Adulthood came along and I got benefitted with sickness compensation, and got my first apartment at age 20. It didn't go great. I accidentally flooded it and had to move out, and didn't manage to keep it clean or anything while I lived there. I was barely functional and alcoholic, constantly self-harming, just to try to manage attending school. Despite getting help from caretakers offered by the state (?) weekly, I was really dysfunctional. I switched apartments several times, and kept flunking school while trying to live my miserable life, always hanging by a thread. Until I moved back to my parents at age 23. They had moved to a miserable island far away from all my friends. Got an apartment on that island close to my parents, but my issues continued being the same level of awful, up until about age 27.

What this has to do with my autism is that... uh, I basically understand it as that it impedes on my executive function really dramatically, and like although I can physically do pretty much anything, mentally I just somehow can't. Especially repeatedly, and often enough. Like I can't keep any routine for the life of me, not even simple shit like sleep cycle, eating habits, brushing my teeth, etc. Let alone school or a job, or even hobbies. Everything is infrequent and too seldom, if at all. So everything in my life keeps falling apart as I basically have no foundation to stand on, and I get sensory overload suuuuper easily. So like just going shopping/cleaning/laundry/hobbies/school/anything for half an hour can drain me significantly and make me incapable of managing doing anything else for the rest of that entire day. It's very hard for me to explain, but it's like I only ever have 3 spoons per day, but most things requitre 10+ spoons, so I go backwards on my energy resources a lot and end up having to rest for DAYS after just one hour's activity.

At age 27 I ditched the social service caretakers, as they were seriously depriving me of my privacy while being largely unhelpful, and I began to finally try to pull myself together. I still get a lot of help from my mom, with anything from paying my bills and grocery shopping, to driving me places and dealing with soul-sucking authorities for me. This takes off a lot of the burden and allows me to manage doing at least a few things on my own, like working out, cleaning (yay I manage keeping my apartment clean nowadays!), laundry, occasional shopping, art projects, online socialising, etc. I still go to therapy biweekly but it's still largely unhelpful. At least I managed to make them stop tossing me around between departments like a football though, and I'm still gonna try to get some proper trauma therapy, and maybe also look into that adhd group I was promised last year, if it'll ever resume again post-corona...

I've still never had a job in my life and still have incomplete grades. But I got permanent sickness compensation now, so that's neat. At least I don't have to worry financially. I'm also trying to get started with some "work training" stuff which is basically "pretend work" for people who can't work, just to have something to do. I'll most likely be granted acces to that. However, it seems irony is that most of those are located out in the middle of nowhere where no buses go, and I can't afford a fucking car or driver's licence because I can't work. Mom probably won't drive me several times a week for that. Fucking fantastic. Makes me almost wanna kill someone... argh! Those little things really piss me off.

Life is absolutely not going the way I want and I blame my autism for it, mostly. I am drowning in frustration, and my anger issues making me scream my lungs out in pure despair, shows that. I'm considered offically disabled due to my autism, and it just fucking sucks ass. How lonely, under-stimulated yet easily over-stimulated, bored, meaningless and unfulfilled my life is. There are far more severely autistic people out there who somehow manage to live far more functional lives, and I'm jealous of that. I dunno how to break free from this misery. It feels like the only thing I've ever managed to accomplish in life is transitioning genders, and making art that I don't wanna sell. I wanna have a "normal" job, a car and driver's licence, I wanna have cats and a social life, I want parties at night clubs again, I want hobbies outside of my home; hookups, friends and lovers; I want to be able to have a functional romantic life with someone I can marry and start a family with.

But is any of that ever gonna happen? I hope so, but it feels bleak. Because my autism feels like such a huge burden on my life, and a huge hindrence to my dreams and goals... like I'm over 30 already and still a disabled and having my mom living half my life for me, miserable mess and not given any useful therapy, I'm left to my own vices to figure out how to adult... Because of all that, I hate my autism and I wish there was a cure, I swear to fuck. So for your question, how I deal with it: not fantastically. Not sure if you wanted a relay of my entire life, but I hope that’s okay! Didn’t know how else to answer your questions.

[petitprincess1]

Good Evening Ch13 (Soft and Fragile)

AO3 Link Summary: Before the incident, Alastor has a bit more of a reflection on his "lovers" and it's quite interesting on what he wishes to do to his dolls. Words: 1,738 I AM SO SORRYYYYYY!!! I got super stressed lately and my brain just froze. I really hope this chapter is worth the wait. Once again, very sorry. Warning: Obsessive and possessive thoughts and..."knifeplay" thoughts...kinda. ~~~ Hours earlier before the “oopsie” that happened at Pentious’ house, Alastor made up an excuse to go to the kitchen just so he didn’t end up strangling Vaggie, slice her throat, or say some very mean words. The intense hatred only increased when she mentioned him bringing in gumbo that had Valentino’s body in it. He was going to bury the guy to use as manure, but he was a bit pressed for time and it was rather difficult to stuff the body with aromatic herbs to keep any stench out. Plus, he didn’t feel like draining Val’s blood. Either way, he had to take a moment to breathe before walking into the kitchen.

Al tried to calm down by taking out the tongue that he took from that dead guard. Either no one has gone into the fridge yet or no one questioned the tongue. It wasn’t like it was impossible for him to have bought a cow tongue of sorts from the store. Thankfully, idiots would do anything to justify something that’s so simple.

He meant to chop this up for breakfast in the morning, but no one said that you couldn’t have an omelette in the afternoon. Besides, he still needed to make a small meal for Charlie. Alastor realized that he was going more and more towards Charlie everyday. It was surprising that the girl intrigued him, almost as much as Anthony did. Although, he was interested in them for completely different reasons. Anthony felt the closest to what could be romantic, even if it was a bit more perverse. 

All Alastor wanted to do with Anthony was make him his and only his. Majority of the people that he came into contact with were incorrigible and absolute morons, especially that Pentious. The man had no patience with any of that and wouldn’t miss them the slightest bit if they were dead...possibly not Husker. The much older man was much more hilarious to have alive, especially whenever he was angry. It was so much fun to watch his lip curl into a snarl.

However, unless it was making him pouty, Alastor never wanted to see his ethel angry at him nor did he wish to hurt him that badly. Just the very thought sent a chill up his spine as he listened to the tongue’s muscles and ligaments making a slight squishing sound as the knife sliced through them, making him feel a nice calm about him. All he wanted to do was keep Anthony all locked up for no one else to see him. Yes, the man clearly could help himself, judging the bruising on his knuckles, but he still could have died. Keeping the little minx all tied up would clearly only benefit him.

Plus, Alastor could also easily lure those mongrels to his home and he could serve up some wonderful meat pies or casseroles to his favorite toy that he will keep all snug and cozy in his basement. Oh! That reminded him that he really needed to renovate that place back at his home. Well, temporary home in Eden. Al should also warn Anthony about the constant traveling. Alastor knew that his angel may have slight worry about his proposition, but he knew that the boy would be the one to stay.  Meanwhile with Charlie….the man longed for her struggle.

As annoying as it was to try and get the doll alone, it was also thrilling to actually have someone fight. Not that Anthony didn’t fight with Alastor occasionally, it was different with Charlie. She seemed to wish to deny all attraction towards, but he could easily tell when one has hidden desire. He has felt her heartbeat quicken on her wrist, seen the hidden passion in her eyes lying beneath the disgust, and, most importantly, he can sense the morbid curiosity in her. It won’t be too long til he finally caught her in his grasp.

Alastor scrapped the tongue off of the cutting board into a frying pan that had oil, minced garlic, and chopped onion in it. He breathed in the smell and sighed happily, “Patience is a virtue.”

Niffty came into the kitchen, carrying groceries, and gasped at seeing Alastor, “OH! You didn’t tell me you would be in the kitchen! Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude. I just went to get some extra food and-”

“Don’t worry, my dear! It’s perfectly fine. After all, this is your kitchen and I’m merely intruding in on your space,” Alastor spoke charmingly and humbly. Niffty gasped even more as she placed the groceries on the counter, using a step stool, and quickly replied, “No no no! My kitchen is your kitchen, so stay as long as you wish.”

The man smiled at her and gave a polite nod, “What a sweet lady you are. Also, do you mind helping me out? Just get some eggs and whisk them up. I’m making an omelette for Charlie~”

“Awww, you’re such a sweet man!”

“...I know.” ~~~ Later on into the day, Al had come over to Charlie’s office and knocked on the door. Charlie called from the other side, “Who’s there?”

Alastor thought of a joke for a few seconds and replied, “Adore!”

It went silent for a few seconds before the golden-haired girl asked, “Adore who? I don’t think-”

“Adore is between you and I, so please open up!” Alastor exclaimed, cutting her off on purpose. There was another brief silence before the door suddenly opened up and revealed Charlie looking away from Alastor. She seemed to be annoyed, but the small reddish tint to her pale cheeks showed her keeping a smile back. She mumbled under her breath as she walked away, “That was a terrible joke and you know it was.”

The creole chuckled as he walked into her office and saw that her office was pretty decent and cozy looking, especially with plush carpeting. He leaned up against a bookshelf behind him as he raised an eyebrow at two norwegian dwarf goats that were sleeping within a pet bed that looked like a little house. Charlie sat down on the chair at her desk and asked, “Is there something that you need, Al? Oh! Also, thank you for the omelette, it was very sweet of you to make that for me. Although, I thought we ran out of certain cuts of beef.”

She gestured to the empty plate on her desk that had bits of onion on the surface, as well as some ketchup. Al nodded and replied, “You’re quite welcome, my dear~ Also, I have my resources. Anyway, I was just asking if it was alright if I head off early. Just want to do a bit of hunting, that’s all.”

Al’s grin subtly grew a bit at seeing Charlie’s skin become slightly paler when he mentioned hunting. He could just say that he was just going to go hunt some deer, but it was hilarious to think that the girl thought he was hunting humans. No, not today. She gulped and replied, “Uh, well, I guess if you have nothing else to do, then that’s okay. Just...you know...be back around dark, just so you can have the night shift. I-If you want to, of course!”

The man couldn’t help but reach towards Charlie, making her slightly flinch, and gently caress her cheek. He brushed his thumb against her skin and almost felt aroused at the softness of it. Alastor could only imagine how nice it would be to carve through it. He was sure that he barely needed to add extra pressure to slice the skin open. He hummed and then muttered in a low tone, “Of course, Charlie.Why would I ever say no to you?”

Charlie mumbled under her breath, feeling an odd chill up her spine, “Uh...I’m sure you have, especially when I don’t want you messing with my cheeks.” She slowly lowered Al’s hand from her cheek and moved it back to his side. She then concluded, “Uh, well, if that’s all, the you’re free to go, Al.”

Alastor stared at his hand for a few seconds and then nodded absentmindedly as he walked out of the room. He felt Charlie’s eyes on him as he left out and listened to the door gently creak close before she locked it. However, Al barely cared as he felt many tingles up his hand that Charlie touched. He never liked being touched...but he was definitely craving more from her.

He began walking down the hall and was trying to clear his mind when a woman ended up bumping him from behind. Al turned and saw the woman looked distraught, almost in a daze. Before he could question her, she asked, “I’m sorry, but have you seen Angelo? I...I really need to speak to him….regarding a man that he...worked with.”

Alastor blinked at her and wondered what she could possibly want with Anthony. It made his stomach tie into a knot, but he just said, “Well, Anth- Angelo is on medical leave. He got harmed pretty badly.”

Not even the slightest bit of worry in the woman’s eyes, if anything, Al saw a bit of frustration. She nodded and muttered, “...Right. I forgot...thank you.”

The woman then silently walked away from Alastor, making the man narrow his eyes at her. He’s going to have to follow her, isn’t he? Great! Right...well, maybe Charlie was right about the human thing. He could always buy venison from the butcher. ~~~ In present time, Baxter was helping Sir Pentious roll up Traci’s body in a rug, while Alastor was braiding Anthony’s slightly grown out hair and Cherri was trying to calm down. The spunky girl washed the blood off of her face and pretended the brain bits were just chewed up wads of gum. She pulled her head out from the sink and quickly grabbed some towels, wiping her face off.

Cherri was making very quiet sobs as she kept envisioning the woman getting shot over and over again in her head. It just wouldn’t end. Angelo looked at her and asked, “Hey, ya gonna be alright, Cherri?”

She turned to Angelo and took a deep breath before glaring at Al, “What the hell is wrong with you!? Why did you do that?”

Alastor scoffed, “What? It was just a bit of hunting.”

[rotationalsymmetry]

Sometimes my brain will not let go of a thing.

And, when I argue I tend to go back and forth between being very sure and argumentative, and second-guessing everything I’ve thought or said ever.

So, since I’m well into my second guessing phase, did I miss something there? I think if I missed something, it would be “sometimes it’s not about you.” Thing is though? I didn’t miss that. I’m aware of that. I’m fully aware that healthy people complaining about being inside more than usual, and missing out on stuff, isn’t about disabled/chronically ill people.

And that itself is part of the thing? Intention/impact. Not thinking about people can be a problem too. It’s...actually OK for people to notice and comment on when we’re *not* being thought of.

And it’s certainly not about not being able to handle people talking about being different. That’s...how do you even get there.

It’s not about being intolerant of people who are more sociable or more outdoorsy missing stuff. I miss stuff too. I get it. It’s fine to miss things. (We’re not different. I do miss things. I miss things so much.)

This is really not about whether it’s ok for people to be sad about pandemic restrictions. Of course it’s ok. (Feelings = always ok.)

It’s also incredibly frustrating, speaking as a chronically ill person, to hear people be publicly sad about missing things you’ve been missing from before the pandemic, while being completely oblivious to your own more enduring sadness. I get this with worship a lot: I tried a virtual worship service at a congregation that normally meets in person early on, and there was a lot of public mourning around not being able to meet in person. And I get that. Zoom worship is not the same. I miss in person worship too. And: I was already missing in person worship. And feeling profoundly alienated and ignored over it — not just that I couldn’t go to worship in person, but that I could easily see things my local congregation could be doing to be more inclusive, really simple things, that it wasn’t doing. So, zoom worship, especially everyone being on zoom, that’s actually a significant improvement for me. So hearing people be sad over something that’s a step down for them and a step up for me, without there being room for me to talk about how it’s a step up for me. How I’d been a step down (several steps down) from the current situation before. It’s.

There aren’t words. It’s like I turned invisible, or turned into a not-person, some time when I wasn’t looking.

I think that’s worth talking about. And at least as much worth talking about as the sadness of healthy people who are missing out. Who can also talk about their sadness, just, it’d be nice if sometimes they looked around.

It’s, uh, well sorry for this, but it’s a little like Dudley complaining about only getting thirty eight presents or whatever, when Harry’s right there and not getting any presents at all. There’s, uh, it’s ok to be upset, it’s not a competition, there is room for many different levels of disappointment, and of course some people are getting hit harder than others, but also...perspective please.

A little over a year ago I was in an airport, and had sensibly requested a wheelchair, and I got treated like luggage. Pushing the wheelchair without giving me a heads-up first even after I complained the first time it happened, for instance. Getting treated more like an object than a person is, tbh, not really something I’m used to happening to me. It’s jarring. To go from someone people care about. To being luggage. Going from being a valued member or prospective member of a congregation, someone who’s welcomed in and wanted. To someone that people won’t make even the smallest accommodation for, even when that accommodation would mean the world to you.

And, good grief, this is just me and I’ve still got it WAY better in many ways than a lot of other disabled people.

It’s not just about disability either. It’s also “oh it’s like being in prison” well no, you see there are actual people in prison, and they’re dying at appalling rates, and having to stay in your home that’s set up the way you like it and might even have multiple rooms you can be in and also being able to go for a walk around the neighborhood when you want, is only a tiny bit like prison even when people aren’t dying.

(And people can talk about their frustrations without bringing prison into it. And people who feel disappointed or frustrated that they’re missing out can be a bit cautious about complaining to or perhaps in front of someone who’s objectively missing out on more, or make sure they’re all ears when the person who’s missing out more wants to vent, because let me tell you a lot of disabled people find that abled people are in general not very helpful when it comes to expressing our frustrations.) (Some exceptions of course — but it is a very common experience, and personally I rarely full on vent to anyone except my partner or other chronically ill people. Healthy people tend to take complaints as a request for suggesting possible treatments, which is not constructive.)

There’s a lot of ways in which some people habitually have it much, much worse than others, and yet somehow the people who have it less bad get lots of room to talk about their troubles, lots of sympathy and understanding and getting to see their troubles represented in fiction and talked about on the news and so on, and the people who have it the worst do not get any sympathy at all. (Which of course is not to say I myself am perfect and always get it right, I’m not and I don’t.)

And when we’re presented in news articles or other media, often it’s for abled people and not for us (“inspiration porn”.)

And you see this on so many levels with the pandemic. There’s a zillion articles on working from home and reducing your risk when you don’t have to do anything more risky than a grocery run. And virtually none on how essential workers can protect themselves. I don’t know about media specifically aimed at parents, but news articles aimed at the general public rarely mention the difficulties of parenting during the pandemic. I don’t think I’ve seen a single article talking about how the pandemic and staying home might be especially hard on kids and teens, or even young adults (even though obviously it’s easier to be resilient when you’ve had a ton of positive past experiences you can draw on, which for many people includes prom night and early-twenties bar hopping, and even though young people are more likely to be in a life stage where they’re looking for a friend group or a romantic partner which is much harder to do if you can’t go places) or the elderly. (See? I get it. Nights out and road trips and so on aren’t frivolous, they’re what tie the social fabric together.) But there’s a ton of articles about how to adjust to working from home. And how the economy is doing.

Almost like we live in a society that values “workers” and “consumers” more than people. And only certain kinds of workers at that.

Let’s push back on that, OK? I’m a person. Terminal cancer patients are people. Old ladies who go to the dialysis clinic are people. Full time wheelchair users are people. People with intellectual disabilities are people. Dementia patients who don’t remember their own name, are people. Prisoners are people. Immigrants and asylum seekers are people. Sex workers are people. Black peoples are people. Indigenous people are people. Bus drivers and garbage collectors and baristas and cashiers and janitors are people. Trauma survivors are people. People with all sorts of mental illnesses — not just depression and anxiety, but psychosis and schizophrenia and personality disorders (edit: and addictions), all mental illnesses — are people. Furries or whoever is being made fun of these days, are people. People who can’t use words are people. People who “look funny” are people. People who are “I don’t know, they just have a really weird vibe, I just don’t like them, you know?” are people. People with bad teeth, with weird accents, who don’t know that thing that everybody knows, people who don’t have the right politics or use the right words, we are all people.

We all have inherent worth, we all deserve basic respect and compassion and care, we all have the same basic rights, we all deserve to have our struggles heard and taken seriously. Even when we don’t explain ourselves well. Especially when we don’t explain ourselves well.

Do you understand? Especially when we don’t explain ourselves well. Because, people who aren’t good at explaining things, also have problems and are understood less often.

Or people who want to explain things that are hard to explain, because they’re outside of the mainstream frame of reference.

[katekatebear]

Ok I know everyone’s seen (& maybe read) this article already, but I want to pull out just a few quotes to remember. And, if you haven’t read it, here’s your chance for a few highlights.....

“Why can’t I get this mundane stuff done? Because I’m burned out. Why am I burned out? Because I’ve internalized the idea that I should be working all the time. Why have I internalized that idea? Because everything and everyone in my life has reinforced it — explicitly and implicitly — since I was young.“

“We’re not feckless teens anymore; we’re grown-ass adults, and the challenges we face aren’t fleeting, but systemic.“

“We couldn’t just show up with a diploma and expect to get and keep a job that would allow us to retire at 55. In a marked shift from the generations before, millennials needed to optimize ourselves to be the very best workers possible.”

“We didn’t try to break the system, since that’s not how we’d been raised. We tried to win it.“

““Branding” is a fitting word for this work, as it underlines what the millennial self becomes: a product. And as in childhood, the work of optimizing that brand blurs whatever boundaries remained between work and play. There is no “off the clock” when at all hours you could be documenting your on-brand experiences or tweeting your on-brand observations.“

“Yet the more work we do, the more efficient we’ve proven ourselves to be, the worse our jobs become: lower pay, worse benefits, less job security. Our efficiency hasn’t bucked wage stagnation; our steadfastness hasn’t made us more valuable. If anything, our commitment to work, no matter how exploitative, has simply encouraged and facilitated our exploitation. We put up with companies treating us poorly because we don’t see another option. We don’t quit. We internalize that we’re not striving hard enough. And we get a second gig.“

“Burnout is of a substantively different category than “exhaustion,” although it’s related. Exhaustion means going to the point where you can’t go any further; burnout means reaching that point and pushing yourself to keep going, whether for days or weeks or years.“

“This is why the fundamental criticism of millennials — that we’re lazy and entitled — is so frustrating: We hustle so hard that we’ve figured out how to avoid wasting time eating meals and are called entitled for asking for fair compensation and benefits like working remotely (so we can live in affordable cities), adequate health care, or 401(k)s (so we can theoretically stop working at some point before the day we die). “

“No one would’ve told my grandmother that churning butter and doing the wash by hand wasn’t work. But planning a week of healthy meals for a family of four, figuring out the grocery list, finding time to get to the grocery store, and then preparing and cleaning up after those meals, while holding down a full-time job? That’s just motherhood, not labor.“

“That’s one of the most ineffable and frustrating expressions of burnout: It takes things that should be enjoyable and flattens them into a list of tasks, intermingled with other obligations that should either be easily or dutifully completed. “

“Pundits spend a lot of time saying “This is not normal,” but the only way for us to survive, day to day, is to normalize the events, the threats, the barrage of information, the costs, the expectations of us. Burnout isn’t a place to visit and come back from; it’s our permanent residence.“

“We’re deeply in debt, working more hours and more jobs for less pay and less security, struggling to achieve the same standards of living as our parents, operating in psychological and physical precariousness, all while being told that if we just work harder, meritocracy will prevail, and we’ll begin thriving. The carrot dangling in front of us is the dream that the to-do list will end, or at least become far more manageable.“

“In their writing on homelessness, social psychologist Devon Price has said that “laziness,” at least in the way most of us generally conceive of it, simply does not exist. “If a person’s behavior doesn’t make sense to you,” they write, “it is because you are missing a part of their context. It’s that simple.”“

[whimsical-ness]

Felon | 01

◇ Link to Masterlist

◇ Baekhyun & Kyungsoo series: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | ?

◇ Genre: Cop! Ksoo, Criminal! Baek, Crime! AU

◇ Summary: As your life takes a dangerous turn when you get caught between a criminal and a cop, you begin to question how thin the line between good and bad really is.

◇ Word Count: 3.4k

◇ A/N: This fic is inspired by the film Dhoom 2, but for the most part, the story is very different. I hope you enjoy it!

You’d always considered yourself to be a good person. An honest, virtuous person; a law-abiding citizen.

Until a certain point in your life, when you started living on the wrong side of the law.

You hadn’t meant for it happen. Heck, you never imagined yourself to one day become a petty thief. But once you started to steal, you couldn’t stop.

It started off as picking small things from the supermarket, slipping in items into your denim jacket, pretending it was the metal buttons that were causing the alarms to go off.

Then it was makeup, clothes, and whatever else you managed to stuff away into your backpack, or your coat, smoothly talking your way out of any suspicion that was placed on you.

You didn’t know how you did it, but it worked. You were never caught. 

And so you couldn’t stop. Stealing gave you an odd sort of rush, a thrill, the fact that you were breaking the law giving you the dangerous adrenaline rush of trying not get caught.

Until one day, you did.

It was your fault really, that you took such a huge risk. You had never attempted to steal something as big as a car before. 

But the completely unreasonable urge in you was overpowering the logic, and so you did it.

You tried to steal a car. You spotted one parked on the deserted street, and put your plan in action, which was basically to try and pry open the door with a nifty crowbar. 

Naturally, you ended up not being strong enough for this, and you struggled for a good 10 minutes before you decided that smashing the window in was looking like the best option.

It was when a police siren blared in the distance that you realized you were in trouble. 

And no lengths of sweet talking or persuasion was going to get you out of that one.

The officer who’d picked you up was a no nonsense kind of guy, despite how soft and unassuming his appearance was.

“Mr...Do?” you drawled, reading off his badge. “It really wasn’t what it looked like. I swear. Do I look like someone who can steal a car?”

Mr. Do sighed, his gaze on the road ahead as he drove to the police station. “It’s always the ones who don’t look like they would do it,” he said, and the smoothness of his voice startled you. 

“But,” you went on, unbothered. “You don’t have any evidence!”

Officer Do parked the car with a screech, turning to look at you. Damn. It was the first time you’d seen a police officer this handsome before. His eyes were large and a warm shade of brown. His hair was black and cut short, but it made his handsome face even more striking. His lips, though, caught your attention the most. He had the plushest pair of lips you’d ever seen on a guy.

Everything about him was unnerving.

You tried not to stare at his beautiful mouth as he spoke, instead focusing on making your argument sound valid. “You can’t arrest me without evidence,” you said again, defiantly.

“You were attempting to break open the glass,” he replied as a matter-of-fact. “And you looked very keen while you were doing it. That’s evidence enough for me.”

You attempted your best apologetic face, pressing your lips together and fluttering your lashes. “Please, Officer Do. Let me off the hook this one time?”

Officer Do rolled his eyes. “Enough. Get out of the car.”

“Wait!” you protested, grabbing his arm before he could open the door, suddenly scared. “Look. I can’t go to jail, alright? I never meant to steal the stupid car. I wasn’t thinking straight. We all make mistakes, right?” you said desperately.

Officer Do narrowed his gaze. “That’s your justification? ‘We all make mistakes’?”

“It wasn’t like I thought I was going to get away with it,” you said quickly. “And I didn’t end up doing it, so how can you put me in jail for that?”

To your surprise, Officer Do began to laugh. “You’re a funny one. I’ll tell you what. You’re right, I can’t put you in jail because you didn’t steal the car, you only tried to. But I can definitely make you pay a very hefty fine, which is exactly what I’m planning on doing.”

You fiddled with the buttons on your jacket. “I’m afraid I can’t do that either, Officer. I’m broke.”

He shook his head. “That’s not my problem.”

“I’ll do anything,” you blurted. “I’ll do community service, or something, whatever you say.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment. “No.”

“Please,” you said softly, a last desperate attempt to get yourself out of the mess. Officer Do sighed. “Oh for God’s sake. Fine. But I’m not letting you off the hook. Come inside the station. We need to have a chat.”

You could hardly believe your ears when he said it. 

“A...spy?” you repeated, bewildered.

Officer Do tapped the edge of his pen against his desk irritatedly. “Not exactly. But we’ve been needing someone like you. Someone who has a knack for getting out of tricky situations, who can slip in and out of trouble easily. You’re going to prove to be very useful to us, if you follow all instructions and do what I say.”

“But what exactly do you need me to do?” you asked, still confused. You were beginning to think paying the fine would have been a better option.

“I need you to be on call, any time we need you,” he said evenly. “I call, you come. There are people in this city the police department keeps tabs on, and you’re going to help us do exactly that.”

You crossed your arms. “And what’s in this for me, then? And don’t just say it’s what I owe you for not putting me in jail.”

Officer Do smiled slightly. “I’m not stupid. I’ve seen you, before. Though you may not have realized. I’ve seen you steal things when you thought no one was looking.”

A chill ran down your spine. “Wh—”

“Why didn’t I catch you then?” he completed your question for you. “I was observing you. I had this weird hunch, that you were going to end up being of help. But you nearly crossed a line, trying to steal that car.”

You said nothing, staring at him.

“So what I’m saying is this: either you help us and have all of your previous crimes written off, or you refuse and face the law,” he said smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “It’s up to you.”

You laughed in disbelief. “Just know you’re making a mistake. I’m not some sort of a professional, or whoever you think I am. I’m nobody.”

Officer Do smiled. “Precisely.”

A month. All it took was a month for them to ‘train’ you, and just like that, you were working undercover for the police.

It wasn’t a job, not really. It was more of part-time thing that you never knew when to expect.

It was Officer Do calling you in the middle of the day, informing you that you had to tail a suspicious looking woman while she shopped for her groceries.

It was infiltrating a nightclub, posing as any ordinary person looking to have some fun, but secretly keepings tabs on a drug deal going down in the dark corners of the building, immediately tipping off the police so that they could arrive and make their arrests.

It was catching petty thieves, just how you’d been, following police suspects around the city, spying on those who’d broken the law and thought they’d gotten away with it, when really, they were just being watched. Before justice was served.

Unexpectedly, you enjoyed every minute of it. The thrill and adrenaline rush you’d previously gotten from stealing things was now fuelled by the challenge of maintaining your cover without getting caught by the bad guys.

And you were good at it. Within a few months, thanks to you (indirectly), the city was dredged of at least a few dozen amateur criminals, and it felt good.

It felt good, to be back on the right side of the law.

Oh, and there was the added benefit of getting to see Officer Do all the time. 

You didn’t even realize when you started to crush on him. It just happened. You’d never met someone like him before, someone so righteous, so charismatic, so confident and in control. He was young, yet he was highly respected, and always remained humble.

Your heart was screaming at him to date you.

Your pathetic attempts at flirting were brutally brushed aside at first, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance at your words. Every compliment was received with a faint smile and roll of the eyes, nothing more, nothing less.

It frustrated you to no end. 

And then you found out his name, and used it to your advantage. 

“Officer Do,” you said sweetly, one day, sauntering into his office at the station. “Is it alright if I call you Kyungsoo?”

His ears went red. “Wouldn’t that be mildly inappropriate?” he replied, raising his eyebrows. You shrugged. “I don’t see why it would be. We’re practically the same age. And I don’t officially work under you or anything. Besides, it makes me feel closer to you,” you added with a smile.

Kyungsoo snorted. “And why do you want to feel closer to me?”

“Isn’t it obvious by now?” you said coyly, crossing your arms. “I like you. Now if you would just ask me out on a date...that would make life much easier for me.”

You couldn’t even believe what you were saying. You might have gone mad. But you were done trying to be shy and hopeful. If you wanted something, you were going to do everything you could to get it.

And right now, you wanted Do Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo’s face flushed red. “What makes you think I’m interested in you?”

You thought over this for a minute. “I don’t see any reason why you wouldn’t be. One date. Then you can decide that for yourself.”

Your heart hammered. Maybe you’d gone too far.

But to your astonishment, he chuckled. “Fine. One date. How does tomorrow evening sound?”

You couldn’t stop the wide smile that spread across your cheeks. 

“It sounds perfect.”

To your completely ecstasy, one date turned into two. Two turned into three, and after the third you were positively over the moon.

He liked you. Kyungsoo liked you too. More than he let on.

Because it was a month later when he was stumbling into your apartment, his lips attached to your neck, your hands fumbling with his jeans to get them off.

“Wh-what kind of a cop doesn’t carry around handcuffs everywhere? Could’ve put them to some use right now,” you breathed, as his teeth nipped at your skin. “I forgot them,” he replied. “Remind me next time, will you?”

You grinned, bringing his lips back up to yours and melting into his touch.

The next morning, you almost couldn’t believe he was still lying there next to you, looking adorably innocent in his sleep.

You leaned over and woke him up with a peck to his cheek. He groaned and rolled over, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you to him. 

“Morning, Officer,” you said lazily, and Kyungsoo chuckled into your shoulder. “I thought you preferred calling me Kyungsoo?”

“Officer is sexier.”

Infuriatingly, Kyungsoo did everything possible to avoid you in public, seemingly not wanting his colleagues to know that you were ‘dating’.

He didn’t even officially put a label on the relationship, though now it had been weeks since you’d started seeing each other, as well as started hooking up more than a few times at your place.

And it pissed you off. “Why do you pretend as though you hate me in front of everyone else?” you asked him finally, seething.

“I don’t want them to get the wrong idea about us. They might think the only reason I recommended you is because of our...relationship,” he replied, sighing. “Look, it shouldn’t matter—”

“It matters to me!” you blurted. “You can’t be ripping my clothes off one moment and then pretending as if I don’t exist the next. That’s not how it works. I’m not your fuck-buddy—”

“Of course you’re not,” said Kyungsoo fiercely. “What kind of person do you think I am? I care about you.”

“Oh yeah? Then why can’t we just make it official?” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest. “

Kyungsoo rubbed at his forehead. “It is official to me. Please just let that be enough for now?”

You set your lips in a thin line. “I would hate you if you weren’t so goddamn attractive.”

Kyungsoo smiled. “Look, I promise we’ll sort this out later. But there’s an extremely high profile briefing in 20 minutes, and I need you to be at it.”

You raised your eyebrows. “High profile? And you’re involving me?”

He bit his lip. “Yes. I didn’t want to, but everyone else thinks you’re the one for this. But you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I won’t let them force you into it.”

Now you were intrigued. “Huh. Sounds interesting.”

Kyungsoo sighed. “You have no idea.”

The meeting was being held not in the usual briefing room, but the one reserved for complicated cases that required the use of high-tech computers and screens to convey the details.

That was the first sign that this was definitely as high-profile as Kyungsoo had mentioned. But what could it be?

Gathered there, along with you, were the top police officials of the city; the chief criminal investigators, detectives, as well as the heads of the special operations crew.

You felt more than a little inferior being there, and unconsciously sunk lower down in your seat.

“Loosen up,” muttered a voice from next to you. You turned to see Jongin, one of the officers on Kyungsoo’s team, grinning at you. “You’re supposed to look confident and sure of yourself.”

You glared at him. “Yeah, well if someone told me what the hell I’m supposed to do. Kyu—Officer Do is being so secretive,” you said. Jongin chuckled. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Kyungsoo cleared his throat from where he was standing at the front of the room. He pressed a button on the clicker in his hand, prompting the screen behind him to illuminate with a picture.

Your forehead creased. All that was on the screen was a large letter ‘B’. 

“Now,” started Kyungsoo. “We’re all here right now to discuss the increasingly pressing matter of...the elusive Mr. B,” he said, glancing back at the screen.

Mr. B. You’d heard of him, of course. Heard his name being murmured around the station. He’d been agonizing the police for months now, a highly skillful criminal, who specialized in your former area of crime: stealing.

But Mr. B wasn’t your regular petty thief. No, he aimed higher than just cash from banks. He targeted precious artifacts, stealing from the country’s well guarded museums, carrying away priceless jewels from under the security’s very noses.

Kyungsoo proceeded to play footage of his crimes, and you couldn’t help but gape. It was stupefying, how he did it. How he got away. He was barely even caught on camera, managing to escape within means of exploiting any blindspots he could find. His face was completely covered by a black mask, and he was nimble on his feet, somehow managing to outrun police cars that swiftly chased after him, speeding away in a sleek black sports car.

Kyungsoo sighed at the look on everyone’s faces. “Now you see why this is beginning to become a bigger problem. His crimes are getting more ambitious. We traced his first one back to our city, but since then he’s been targeting places all over the country. Our prediction is that he’s going to move overseas, soon. As if he’s trying to make his mark on the entire globe.”

You sucked in a breath. 

“My team and I have analyzed his pattern. Though we aren’t completely certain yet, we think there’s a high possibility his next robbery is going to take place here. Again. He’s come full circle.” 

A projection of a map went up on the screen, and with a start you realized how he’d stolen from nearly every city in the country. It really did seem as if he was circling back to the first place he’d stolen from.

“And where do you think he’s going to steal from?” mused the Head Detective. Another click and a picture of the massive National Museum appeared on the screen. “But he’s already stolen from there hasn’t he?” piped an officer. “That ruby necklace you showed us earlier. Why would he come back here again?”

Kyungsoo smiled. “Just a few days ago, a large exhibition was set up at the museum. A range of priceless relics, shipped over all the way from India. My guess is he’ll want to get his hands on them. If not all, then this...”

A shimmering golden sword went up on the screen, its sheath covered in glittering jewels of different shapes and sizes. “It belonged to the king of an ancient kingdom,” Kyungsoo explained. “Seeing as how he’s going after precious jewels and the like, it’s not a reach to say he’ll want to steal this.”

You bit your lip. 

“And that brings me to what our plan is,” he continued. “We wait for him to strike. We set up the highest level of surveillance we can; we surround the place, inside and out. We don’t let him escape.”

“But this is all going on a hunch,” said the detective. “We can’t afford to waste our resources guarding the place and then have him not show up at all. Or worse, have him steal from elsewhere. The police will end up a laughing stock.”

“Which is why we lure him there,” said Kyungsoo slowly. You froze when his gze turned to you. “That’s where Miss Y/N here comes in.”

“How?” you stammered.

“Let me put it this way: we set up our own little robbery. Broadcast on television that the police have received a note from Mr. B himself challenging the police to catch him in the act of stealing from the museum. Which, of course, he hasn’t done.”

You looked at him in confusion.

He let out a breath. “What I’m saying is, we have him believe that there’s an imposter Mr. B out there, who’s going after his loot under his name. If I know this guy, he won’t like it. He’ll turn up there to challenge the imposter. I know he will.”

“And Y/N poses as the imposter,” finished Jongin for him. 

You stared at him, and then at Kyungsoo. “You want me to pretend to steal that sword?”

“Exactly,” said Kyungsoo, his smile grim. “If we’re lucky, you’ll serve as the perfect distraction for him. And that’s when we’ll catch him.”

It sounded wild, crazy, and your heart was already thumping with the thought of pulling it off. If this worked, you would be the one responsible for finally catching the notorious Mr. B. And boy, did you want a taste of that glory.

It was almost as if Kyungsoo could see the gears working in your head, because he spoke quickly. “You don’t have to do it. We can use someone else, someone more experienced—”

You crossed your arms. “He’s going to have to believe that I’m a thief,” you reminded him. “He’s not a fool. He’ll sniff out an imposter in no time. But I was like him. Not to that level, but I know the tricks. I know what makes a perfect thief,” you said. “If anyone can do this and make it believable; it’s me.”

Jongin whooped from beside you. “That’s what I told him,” he said cheerfully. “You’re perfect for it.”

You grinned. But Kyungsoo’s face was worried. “It’s not going to be easy,” he said softly. “Are you sure?”

You let out a breath. 

“I’m sure. Bring it on, Mr. B. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

A/N: Okay so I’m reallyyyy quite nervous about this, and would LOVE to hear some feedback so pretty please leave some in the comments or my ask?? I need the encouragement lol 💓 (also, bbh will be in the next part!)

[koeyohte]

Credence pt 5

The following week passes like most of the others.  Castor is quiet and keeps more to himself than I’d hoped he would.  He still comes to stand next to me rather than across while we wait in the hallway, but he lets me do the talking.  I ask him how he’s been and he just nods and says he’s fine.  After class, he holds the door open for me, but he doesn’t speak and he doesn’t linger or walk me outside. He just waves and turns, disappearing down the hallway on his own while I’m left standing there, trying to figure out what I’ve done.

Today was different.

He never showed up while I waited in the hall and even when the professor unlocked the door to let us in, he wasn’t there. I kept glancing back at the door from my seat in concern. One of the boys sitting behind me kept watching me and I had to pretend not to notice so I wouldn’t cast him an angry glare. Only when the professor began to take attendance did Castor come rushing in, apologizing to her in a breathy voice and hastily brushing his damp nags from his eyes as if he had just run there, before dropping quickly into a seat away from me. I feel a pang of upset by his behavior. As class continues on and he never looks at or speaks to me once, I decide to ignore him altogether.

When we’re excused, I let him follow me down the hall toward the atrium as I’m texting Sun. Castor’s been so distant, I can only imagine I’ve done something to make him uncomfortable and despite the powerful impulse to question him about it, I force myself not to, and head outside.

He follows me. Even while pretending to ignore him, I’ve noticed he’s a lot calmer than he has been in past weeks.  The nervous fidgeting is completely absent and he doesn’t seem on edge. His stride is smoother, less twitchy. I wonder if he’s received some good news or developed a better plan for his brothers.

He waits silently next to me while I’m texting my mom a last minute grocery list.  It takes me a few minutes and even when I’m done, he’s still there, gazing out across the driveway.  It’s a bit weird that he’s followed me out here without a word, but I don’t dislike his presence, no matter how frustrated I am with him.

“Hey,” I say when I realize he isn’t going anywhere. “How are you?”

He blinks down at me.  “I’m good.”

That’s better than I expected.

“That’s good. You waiting for someone?”

He pauses, then shakes his head.  I tilt mine quizzically up at him.  Was he just following me to spend time with me? It would seem contrary to how he was feeling just a few minutes ago.

“I drove today,” I tell him.  He masks it very well, but I see the way his shoulders slump a bit and his features fall just a fraction.  “I have to go to the store for groceries.”

He nods once and looks away, adjusting the strap of his pack.  Maybe it’s just me projecting, but he looks a little dejected, so I decide to try something I’ve never done.

“Do you need anything? You can come if you want. I can drive us.”

He looks quickly back at me and stares.

“That is, if you trust me,” I add, pulling my keys from my bag with an easily procured, teasing grin.  I’m pleased when he smirks and turns fully to face me.

“I do.”

I wasn’t expecting that.  I lead the way across the parking lot, scanning the shining roofs for where I parked.  I look for his car, too, but I don’t see it.

I unlock my side and then reach in to press the button for his door.  He waits patiently, like he expected me to have to let him in.  He sits down softly, making me self conscious about the way I practically throw myself into the car.  I set my bag in the back and I have to turn my body around so that I can reach.  I’m careful not to touch him when I turn around again to slide down in my seat.  I bump his shoulder anyway with my elbow and he doesn’t even flinch.  I pretend to not notice that he’s still looking at me, as I start the car.  I have to give it a little gas to make sure it actually stays running before I put it in reverse.

The grocery store is very close, so the drive is fairly short.  I’m a bit disappointed with how fast we get there.  Castor sits silently with his hands clasped neatly in his lap.  He doesn’t look uncomfortable but he does look tense.  I feel a strong urge to reach over and take his hands but, of course, I don’t.

We park a row back and I wait for him to close his door so I can lock the car.  I have my wallet and keys in hand and I notice as we’re walking that he’s tucked his own into his pockets.  I move closer to him as we cross the parking lot. I bump into his elbow a few times.

I find a cart and bring up the list on my phone.  I hope Castor doesn’t think too weirdly of me for what I’m buying.  I can see him peering over my shoulder at the list and when I look up at him, he apologizes and moves away.

“You want to read it off to me?” I ask, pressing the phone into his crossed arms.  He looks shocked that I would suggest it.

“Y… you sure?”

“You going to steal my identity while we’re in here?”

“...I might.”

“Well, you better hurry up, then. I’m fast at these grocery runs.”

The sideways smirk that flashes across Castor’s face makes my heart leap into my throat.  He runs a hand through his bangs as he begins to read down the list.

“I see olives, parchment paper, sugar, tomato sauce, paprika… what kind of cake are you making?”

I laugh, trying to imagine making anything decent out of just those few ingredients.  “You should come over sometime and find out.” I say it as a joke but as the words leave my mouth, I realize I mean them.  Castor doesn’t respond, but buries himself further into my list.

We get the first several things and make our way to the back of the store.  I’ve composed the list in order of the aisles, so I know we only have a few things left to get.  It’s cold in the back of the store, so while I’m looking for the brand of heavy cream we usually buy, I wrap my arms around myself.  I forgot I was coming here today when I dressed earlier.  I’m only wearing a romper.

“You cold?” Castor asks from behind me.

“A bit.”

He moves a little closer but doesn’t touch me.  I appreciate his gallantry and I hope the look I give him expresses it.

“Which one do you want?” he asks, moving closer.  I can feel his body heat at my back and his crossed arms brush my shoulder.  “I’ll get it for you.”

“I got it,” I assure him, breaking from guiltily imagining being in his arms.  He’s kind but I don’t want him thinking I’m taking advantage of him.  I move to open the door but he slips in between, pretends to swat at me and opens it for me.

“I insist,” he says, holding a hand out to stop me.  “C’mon, just tell me which one it is.  What do you use this stuff for, anyway?”

“I use it to make fluffy frosting.  Or pie toppings.  Oooh, it’s also really good in hot chocolate - it makes it soft and frothy.”  I lean in to check the price on two different sizes.  I go to point to the smaller one and Castor grabs it before I can even try to.

I straighten up and move forward to take it from him but he shuts the door and moves toward me at the same time.  I’m not entirely sure what happened, but I blinked and Castor’s face is inches from mine, the carton scrapes just below my neck, causing me to flinch, his hand jabs into my chest and his body is suddenly pressed against my own.

Terrified of scaring him, I back away, spluttering an apology and taking the carton from his hand.  He does something similar, waving his hands and muttering while looking anywhere else but at me.  I can see his hand that hit my chest curling into a tight fist, turning his knuckles white.

We make our way back up to the front of the store without speaking.  I don’t feel particularly flustered or even shy about what happened.  I can feel burning from a small cut on my neck where the carton scraped it but it’s trifling. Castor seems significantly more disturbed than I am.  He remains quiet, glancing worriedly at the cut, all the way until we’re back outside and loading bags into the back of my car.

He offers to take the cart back and I let him, knowing getting some space is probably what he wants.  I wait in my car for him and he slips into his seat as gently as he did the first time.  I’m in the middle of texting Sun when he clears his throat and clasps his hands together in his lap.

“I’m sorry I hit you.”

I look up from my phone, bewildered by his choice of words.

“You didn’t hit me.”  I’m confused by the way he then looks at me.  It was a simple accident, and no harm came from it.  Why is he so upset?

His expression darkens rather than relaxes.  “I still hurt you. I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t.  And even if you did, it was an accident.”  I lower my phone into my lap.  He still doesn’t look convinced.

“I didn’t mean to touch you, then,” he says quietly.  His eyes still haven’t left mine.  “I would never… not without asking… not like that.”

It’s my turn to look at him with a frown.  “You didn’t do anything wrong.  I’m okay, I promise.” I touch the skin at my neck where it burns. “See? No big deal.”

He just blinks, but I can see how harshly he’s rubbing his wrist in his lap, turning the skin white. “You’re bleeding.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” I add as gently as I can. “You’re okay.”

At this, he seems to experience a flood of some emotion that I don’t know the name of.  His lips grow taut and his brows are set straight but he continues to stare.  As I watch him, I realize he looks strangely close to tears.  His face is flushing and I can see him swallow several times, attempting to maintain control.

I wish more than ever that I could reach over and take his hands in mine, to offer some small comfort.  I wonder if he ever allows himself to cry when he needs to and it makes my body ache to imagine the way he’s always having to tread carefully for fear of his own safety.

“I’m not upset,” I continue, refraining from reaching out to him. I decide to try something else. “I’m okay.  I like having you with me. I’m glad you came.”

Castor finally looks away and studies something out across the parking lot.  He’s still twisting the skin around his wrist in his hand and his jaw is tight.  He’s quiet for a long several minutes and I sit silently with him in the car.  I don’t know what he needs and I’m afraid that he won’t tell me if I ask.

“You’re okay?” he asks after what feels like an age. His voice is low and hoarse. He meets my eyes hesitantly as I nod. Despite my small smile, he still looks troubled and keeps glancing at the cut on my neck.  “You sure?”

“I’m okay. I’m glad you came with me.”  I try to smile at him again. He’s looking but doesn’t return it. “Do you need to go back to campus?”

He nods.

We’re silent on the drive back. I make a few offhand comments about some birds we see, but he doesn’t engage in the conversation.  When we get back, he almost bolts to unlock the door.

“Castor,” I call after him when he gets out. He bends to look at me. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer, which surprises me. Hand on the car door, ready to shut it, he looks down at the seat for a moment, then back up. “I’m fine.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

He shakes his head. “I have to go. Thanks for the ride.”

I nod and let him leave.  I wait in my car until he’s lost in the sea of vehicles in front of me.

I’m baffled on my drive home. I don’t understand it - I wasn’t angry with him and I told him several times that I wanted him there. What could I have done to give him the impression that I was angry? What else could I do?

When I get home, I text Sun about it. I’ve told her a little about him, but she doesn’t know how I feel about him. She just knows he’s a new friend. I make sure to keep the message brief and only mention the important parts - that he bumped into me and became strangely self deprecating.

Sun gets back to me a few minutes later, asking if I know anything about his background. I’m both frustrated and impressed with her. I haven’t mentioned anything about the abusive home life he’s subjected to every day. I decide to tell her that, yes, he does come from a difficult space, but I don’t give any details.  His business isn’t mine to share, but I want to know where I went wrong.

By the end of the evening and texting back and forth, Sun thinks it’s Castor’s fear of lashing out at someone because of his background that’s making him nervous to attach to me.  In turn, he also probably fears harming those he’s close to and so even the smallest thing, like what happened at the store, triggered a greater panic response than I would have expected. He had no choice but to go back to campus with me in my car, so he likely held himself together better than if he had been alone or somewhere more familiar.

The weight of imagining what he must feel is crushing.  I feel overwhelmed by grief and worry over him. I pick up my phone and begin to text him several times, but I always delete it and set the phone back down. I get ready for bed, change into my nightshirt and crawl under the covers. I plug my phone in and decide to try writing something one more time. I send Sun a good night text and then start typing something to Castor.

Hey, I hope you’re doing ok. I really liked having your company today and I hope we can do it again soon.

I hit send before I can chicken out again and lay there in a panic, worrying that I overstepped another boundary again.  I guess it doesn’t really matter - he can ignore me and I’ll understand that he needs to be left alone.

I’m still waiting for sleep when my phone’s screen lights up. I really don’t want to check it in case it’s something I don’t want to see, but I also can’t stop myself from reaching out to grab it. My heart’s racing when I turn the screen toward me and it leaps into my throat when I see it’s from him.

Hey Matilda. Thanks for messaging. I had a nice time with you today. I have a lot going on and I don't know how to explain it all. I’m not used to having someone I can trust but I’m trying. I’m sorry about my behavior. It’s nothing you’ve done. You’ve been very kind and patient with me. I'm not used to that but it's no excuse. I hope you can forgive me and give me another chance.

I feel both sad and relieved. So, Sun was right. I don’t know what to reply back with, but I try to keep it short and amicable.

I’d love to give you another chance whenever you’re ready (:

It sounds a little more definitive than I think it really should be, but perhaps in my sleepy head fog, I don’t mind taking the extra leap tonight. I hit send and lay back down, feeling much more relaxed. I don’t hear any response as I drift away to sleep.

[blazerina]

Real (Matt x MC)

[A little note: I am still in decision mode about the LI my MC Veronica will pursue in Red Carpet Diaries (RCD). This is a little idea that popped into my mind after playing last week’s chapter. I really do love both Matt and Seth (and Seth does make a little appearance in the story too). I was unsure about writing this and I’m trying something new, so here goes nothing!]

[Summary: After their first “date” to dinner, Veronica and Matt reflect on the lives they live in Hollywood and what the other might be thinking about them right now.]

[Word Count: 1723]

Veronica’s hands were shaking as she tried to unlock the door to her apartment.  She couldn’t wait to get inside and take a deep breath.  Was she really just on a date with Matt Rodriguez? No way. She was dreaming.  She had to be dreaming. Things like this don’t happen to people from Iowa. Especially not people like her from Iowa.

She wanted to shriek and jump up and down on her bed, dance to a Taylor Swift song and paint her nails bright pink. She suddenly felt like she was in high school again and the captain of the football team, the student body president, the guy everyone loved, had chosen her. She still just couldn’t believe it. Could this really be happening?

She fumbled with her keys, having trouble with the lock. She learned early on that there was a special trick, a way to hold the key just right in order to make it work.

“What did Seth say?” She asked out loud.  

Veronica crinkled her brow in a show of frustration mixed with deep thought. She had called upon her neighbor and first-ever-LA-friend to help her with her keys and the lock on her door, quite frequently as of late. He had shown her time and time again how to do it, but she could never remember.

“Righty tight-y…?” Veronica whispered, staring at the lock, hoping her gaze would help it to function properly.  She fiddled with it for a few more minutes before shouting out in aggravation.

“Whoa there, Iowa, it’s gonna be okay…” Seth appeared in the hallway, carrying two paper bags of groceries, and laughing at his friend.

“Do you have any of that slippery stuff? The stuff that makes things move easier?” She wined, holding up her key.

“WD 40?” Seth suggested, raising an eyebrow and staring at Veronica as if she was an alien.

“Whatever it’s called.” She sighed.

“You don’t need that.” He explained, setting his grocery bags on the floor, just outside his apartment.

“Left-y loose-y. Remember?” Seth took the key from her and popped it easily into the lock, turning the key to the left and opening the door effortlessly.

“How did you? But I swear I tried that!” Veronica protested.

“Face it, Ronnie.  You need me.” He laughed.  “How could you even make it in this place without a helper? You know, I’m always on the hunt for a new job. If you need someone to follow you around and open doors for you all day, I’m your man.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” She rolled her eyes and stepped inside her apartment. “And with that, I bid you, goodnight.” She exaggerated a deep curtsey as she held onto either side of the door frame, giggling a little bit.

As she rose again into the upright position, she saw Rocket out of the corner of her eye, digging through one of the toppled over grocery bags outside Seth’s apartment.

“Looks like you’re not all alone tonight, for once!” She joked, pointing at the raccoon.

Seth whirled around on his heel and tried immediately to spread his body out among the width of the hallway to stop Rocket from escaping.

“Good one.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes.  

He tried to hide the fact the he thought, more often than he cared to admit, about Veronica and her jokes. Was that Veronica’s attempt to flirt with him? Or was she just really friendly? He was thankful for her and felt less lonely since she appeared on his doorstep, but he had no idea what she thought of him. He hoped one day he’d have the guts to find out, but that definitely wasn’t happening tonight while he tried once again to chase down a raccoon.

“Rocket! You little thief…”

Seth headed for the fire escape to chase Rocket as Veronica called out to him, “Enjoy your night, you two!”

She closed the door quickly and locked it immediately with a heavy sigh.  That brief distraction could not take away her pure delight.  What a great day! She nailed her audition AND got to spend serious one-on-one time with a mega super huge movie star.  Never in her wildest dreams did she think this could happen to her.

However, it only took a brief few minutes for her inner-critic to suddenly take over.  Could she really trust Matt? Why did he ask her of all people, to dinner tonight? Surely he wouldn’t want to be seen with a nobody from nowhere like her, right? He could have anyone he wanted at any time – why did he all of a sudden decided he wanted her?

She was proud of herself for not letting him kiss her.  The time at the park cuddling on the bench was even more romantic and beautiful than any movie scene a script could depict.  But was it real?

Veronica made herself a cup of tea and curled up on the couch in her tiny little home. It was quiet. No television or music in the background for noise.  Only the faint hum of traffic nearby and the occasional siren. As she sipped her tea, her thoughts volleyed back and forth between dreams and reality.

She wanted to be strong and not let her insecurities take over. The voice of her mother echoed in her head about not letting Tinsel Town change her. Her mom made her promise to always be the same sweet, thoughtful, compassionate Veronica Jean Morgan she had raised her to be. She knew she had to be careful and not let Matt get into her psyche too much, but just for tonight, she thought it was okay.  She could be giddy and excited.  She was allowed.

Matt appeared to be the man of her dreams and everything anyone in Hollywood could ever want – a talented, well-liked, hunk who drives a Toyota? Who’s interested in me? Veronica dramatically swooned and fell backward onto the couch so that she was now laying down, tea still in hand, as she spoke it out into the universe.  

A plea, a hope, a prayer:

I really hope he likes me for me.

I hope it’s real.

Please.

Let it be real.

***

Matt wasn’t ready to go home just yet.  Whenever he had a lot to think about, his instinct was to drive.

After dropping Veronica off at her apartment, he headed toward a road he knew well. It would take him a while to get there and back, which was perfect because he had a lot on his mind.

Veronica was completely different from the girls he usually pursued.  What was it about her that made her stand out? He knew he had not spent a ton of time with her, but he also knew enough about her already to know that her small town charm, and big heart, was incredibly endearing in a place like this.

The way she had so confidently helped him outrun the press – he actually had fun.  And the little acting job she did to get that fan to leave them alone made him laugh.  He had never been able to feel so natural, so much himself, with a person.

LA was so full of fakers. People who tried way too hard to say and do what everyone else wanted them to say and do. It was refreshing to be with someone who seemed to be so sure of who she was. Matt didn’t have to work at getting to know her, or put on a show to really impress her.  

As he turned down his favorite stretch of the long winding road, he swallowed hard, feeling a tightness in his chest.  He gripped the steering wheel firmly while his mind raced.

What if she doesn’t like the real me? What if she wants the Matt Rodriquez people read about in the magazines and see on screen? What if my Toyota is a turn off because I’m not as “sexy” in person as she expected?

He told himself he was stupid for thinking that way. He had women practically throwing themselves at him, why would Veronica be any different? Surely he had this in the bag…

But he hadn’t kissed her yet.  She didn’t try to kiss him.

He remembered wistfully, sitting on the bench in front of the fountain. The quiet peaceful scene in front of them and around them was incredibly romantic. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, stroking her arm with his fingertips every now and then. Her head was resting on his shoulder, neither one of them saying a word.

That felt so right. So real. So…normal…

He had reached the end of the road and needed to turn around.  While he made his way back to the posh area of town where he resided, he couldn’t help but focus again on the time he spent with Veronica. He knew that his career in the movie industry was his choice. He had chosen a profession focused on looks, and pretending to be someone you aren’t.

But as he pulled into his driveway and walked into his huge, empty house, he realized how alone he truly was. He was good at acting, or at least in the big muscle-y action-type flicks. He was hoping Tender Nothings might change the way that society perceived him, but that remained to be seen.

Now in the kitchen, he reached for a beer in the fridge and cracked it open; the noise echoing against his stained concrete floors and marble countertops.  Sighing heavily, he took a long sip and then looked around.  

The only actual thing I have to offer her is myself. This other stuff is just…crap…fancy cars, big houses, crazy parties…that can’t be what she’s after…can it? Please let her be different. Let her be deep enough to see past the façade and the sham of this awful town. I hope I can convince her to love the real me.

***

In their vastly different parts of the city, two people from drastically different walks of life thought to themselves about the other, and the time they had just spent together.  One worried this was the beginning of a relationship built on false pretenses and another worried that what was actually beneath the glitz and glamour of a tempting life, would never be enough.

[nelson-riddle-me-this]

Rules: tag 9 people with excellent taste

Colour(s) I’m currently wearing

Mostly white - I’m wearing my bathrobe. My mom got it for me and it’s great. It’s not the softest but it’s good and it’s got cool blue and grey horizontal stripes on the bottom. Normally it’s very frustrating for her to try to get clothing gifts for me, but she hit the nail on the head with this one.

Last band T shirt I bought

I’ve never bought a ‘band’ t-shirt. The artists I really love don’t have much in the way of t-shirts and if they do, they look really corny. Like I’m not gonna get a Streisand t-shirt and look like some middle-aged empty-nester out grocery shopping.

Last band I saw live

I guess our evening Jazz Ensemble - it’s professional adult musicians - at my school’s Jazz Ensembles concert. They’re great. As for non-school performances, I think? the last concert I went to was a Brian Setzer concert at the Hollywood Bowl with my mom a while back.

Last song I listened to

I tried listening to some contemporary pop from the Love, Simon (2018) soundtrack today and it was really difficult so now I’m at the computer enjoying some tumblr-time and listening to my most-chill and most-favorite Doris Day album.

Lipstick or chapstick?

I used lipstick once for my Katharine Hepburn halloween costume last year and - tbh lipstick is so much work - makeup in general. Like it would be fun to be a girl and wear dresses and be super pretty and stuff - but wo-MAN it’s so much work!

So chapstick. The tube I use is some Burt’s Bees pink grapefruit that I really love. This might sound weird but I only have it because a boy I had a small crush on once asked me to hold it while he changed clothes and forgot to collect it from me..

Last movie I watched

I went to the movies last weekend with @adamsberg​ and another one of my best friends and saw Love, Simon (2018). I really really really really loved it.

I hadn’t even heard of it until a few weeks ago I saw a trailer on YouTube, but I thought it looked great and it was everything I hoped and more. I have this soft spot for angsty contemporary teen dramas like this [The Fault In Our Stars (2014) and The Perks of Being a Wallflower (2012) are also in this micro-genre]. While I love my classics, I also love these great movies that are being made here and NOW! Sometimes I feel apart from the rest of the world - and not in a good way. I wasn’t friendless in high school - but I wasn’t anywhere near as close to any of my friends as any of these movie teens are... as accepted and loved as I am to/by an amazing, small, group of my friends now. I have no horror stories, but I don’t have very many stories and that’s just it - I could have had so much more, but I didn’t. Part of it was because I wasn’t out yet and this film so wonderfully explored that. I highly reccomend it - and not just for the good plot, it’s hilarious and an overall great experience.

Last 3 TV shows I watched

911 (2018-present) 

Sometimes my mom’s taste in first-run television is pretty bad (NCIS stopped being good like a decade ago) but in this case I am totally on-board. Angela Bassett [WAIT HOW IS SHE 59???????] is an inspiration (I WANT HER CHARACTER’S HOUSE!), the writing and production values are generally very good - it’s a solid, interesting show. Still, can anyone tell me what the deal with that middle-aged white lady (who’s a few years younger than Angela Bassett but lowekey looks 20 years older) who dresses like a suburban mom trying to dress like her teenage daughter - like what’s the deal with her dating that guy in his 20s? 

Frasier (1993-2004)

My mom and I watch this show somewhat regularly as it’s on like every flippin’ night on the scourge that is the Hallmark Channel (generally decent reruns, but I hate the channel itself and their original programming is complete trash). In a lotta ways I really love it - it’s hilarious, witty, sophisticated, adult, and has the power to  create a real poigniant moment like you rarely see so fully-realized in sitcoms. 

It has its issues though. Frasier and Niles (especially in early seasons) can get annoyingly whiny/snobby. I get that their characters are kinda built around that, but there’s a point at which they take it too far and it becomes disengaging. Also it’s a super white-people-centric show (I wonder why Hallmark likes it so much...) so diversity could be a lot better. Still, it’s generally a high-quality program.

Gosh I don’t remember what else I watched last. I haven’t had a lotta TV time lately so Imma use this opportunity to plug...

Stranger Things (2016-present)

One’a my best friends, Grace, introduced me to this show and I absolutely love it. The period’s really well done - not just accurate, but alive and real and relatable. The acting and casting is great. Winona Ryder is a treasure and I have a shameless crush on Joe Keery’s amazing hair and the person it belongs to. The scoring is effective, interesting, and very different from the kind of film music I usually am exposed to (I’m really making an effort to expand my horizons beyond classic orchestral sounds lately). The production values are great - it’s just an amazing show. 

Last 3 characters I identified with

1.) Simon Spier from Love, Simon (2018)

While there are some things about him I definitely don’t identify with (message me personally if you wanna know specifics- I don’t want to spoil anything), I very much identify with his coming out story and coming to terms with his sexuality on his own terms. 

I feel like there are people who will criticize the film based on Simon’s extreme normalcy - like he’s honestly a fairly stock white, middle-class, suburban teenage boy and, aside from his involvement in theater and ‘ya know liking boys he doesn’t do much that would be considered “gay” - but that’s kinda the point of the film. Being gay is just something that is and anyone can be gay - they’re not weird or whatever just for being gay - that was one of my fears - that I would be treated (or even just feel like) some strange unwelcome outsider just because of this one thing.

I had a long conversation tonight with an older kinda mentor’y friend of mine (though I’m more of the mentor) who’s gay and who was having a really rough night. Among the lotta things he said was that all gay men cheat that there’s no true monagomous love in the gay community and like lightning I shot him down with a fervor and wisdom and riteousness that would make Kate proud (wayto blow my own horn). 

That’s the exact kind of idiotic prejudice that makes people afraid to come out in the first place. It’s fear that kind of small-minded judgmental behavior which was most responsible for me remaining closeted in high school. It’s a hard thing to explain to someone who hasn’t been there because after you’ve been through it, it can kinda feel like nothing afterwards -  all this fear and conflict and it’s really kinda purposeless. You find that people still love you and the people who don’t are really not good people anyway. I wish I had come out in high school, I could have been happier. But I am happy now.

2.) Tracy Lord from The Philadelphia Story (1940)

Dedicated followers may remember I rewatched this one a few wks ago on what would have been a date with me and my crush until he cancelled. That time I saw Trace and Kate herself through lenses less tinted than ever before, but still she’s there in all her glory and all her not-glory. Tracy is riteous, despises drinking and gets very contemptful of what she views as weakness, such as her ex-husband’s drinking problem or Mike’s cynical view of the rich. I am often that way (in large part due to the second-generation effects of my mom’s own east coast catholic upbrining) which has it’s merits certainly - that specific east coast almost ‘puritan’ toughness (I think Dick Cavett, said Bette Davis and Kate both had it) can be a tremendous source of strength and sense. It can also easily become cold, prudish, snobbish, and condesending. I have tried to unlearn these aspects and I am still working on that. This is kinda what Tracy’s arc is about, learning to be human and be loved and to love others.

Though it’s not as recent, the next one that comes to mind is

3.)  Nancy Wheeler from Stranger Things

I already mentioned that my friend Grace got me into this show, but I didn’t mention that I only ever watch it with her. Not that I don’t really love the show - I do - but I like saving it for when we’re together - it makes it more special. 

Anyway, more than perhaps any other single character on that show, I identify with Nancy Wheeler. Regular suburban teenager who’s better - not just a regular suburban teenager - she’s aware of the sort of suburban ‘don’t do much with your life ‘cept rasie kids [not that there’s anything wrong with having and raising kids, that’s wonderful] trap. I also found the episode with her at Steve’s house really resonated with me. Barb telling Nancy “this isn’t you” really got to me. Part of me still has an internal ‘Barb’ that kinda ties in with the whole east-coast ‘puritan’y’ morality but there’s also the part of me that wants to be young and just a person and do cool things with my friends and kiss boys and watch great angsty contemporary teen dramas. They both have their merits and drawbacks - the young side has life but can be stupid and reckless - the old side is wise and careful, but can be paralyzing and stagnating.

Books I’m currently reading

I have a whole slew of books checked out that I’m supposed to be reading (for my own enjoyment).

The Unanswered Question: Six Talks at Harvard     by   Leonard Bernstien

I loved his The Joy of Music so I figured I would like this too. He’s a great music lecturer. I’m only like 5 pages in so far.

Elizabeth Taylor: A Private Life for Public Consumption      by    Ellis Cashmore 

This one I’m a little further on, though most of that was just the introductory timeline of her life with a key notating each illness/medical episode, marriage/actual or rumored romantic relationship, and neaar-death experience (her life is such ‘drama’).

I also have a book about motifs in Hitchcock’s films with the car picnic from To Catch a Thief (1955) on the cover. I haven’t started reading it yet.

And I have some book about Lerner & Lowe, the duo responsibly for My Fair Lady, Camelot, etc...

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was really really wonderful to participate in. Thank you, my amazing friends, so much for tagging me @adamsberg​ and @in-the-key-of-d-minor​. I’ve enjoyed lots of asks and tag games, but I’ve never felt this good about one before...

I tag

@hildy-dont-be-hasty @tyronepowerbottom @reluctant-martyrs @thevintagious @littlehappyrock @n2ninvisiblegirl @solasdisapproves @hepburnandhepburn and @her-man-friday

If I didn’t tag you but you wanna participate, have at it!

What’m I gonna do, fire you?

[crowned-ladybug]

Shawn Flynn headcanons

(Bc I said I’d tell @asrisartarena about my ones)

I thought this was gonna be like...three things and no need for a read more. It’s a little more than three things.

toymaker, works using traditional methods

"out of his time" just like Jameson is, which leaves him kind of confused/frustrated with this world sometimes

which is one of the reasons he barely leaves his workshop

another is that it's his home and he loves working on his toys maybe a lil too much

after some incidents of him not going outside for weeks and failing to take care of himself Marvin now checks in on him every week

which is kind of ironical considering Marvin is also horrible at taking care of himself when he’s really immersed in working on something, but i digress

due to the whole world being strange to him now he sometimes gets really bad anxiety about just going outside at all so those times Marvin will go grocery shopping for him

Shawn is very grateful and also didn't expect anyone to be caring for him like that at all

he's really good friends with Jameson who often hangs out with him in his workshop

them both being in the wrong time and not exactly knowing what to do about this world connects them, but also they just get along p well

he used to be a very irritable person but Jameson's sweet and easy-going personality seems to be rubbing off on him

he'll never become an extrovert but he's much less snarky and snappy than he used to be

he wears a newsboy cap and suspenders and ocassionally a bowtie when he's feeling especially dapper (Jameson's influence)

despite being usually up to his elbows in his work, not afraid to get his hands dirty and not caring much for his looks, he gets along surprisingly well with Dark

Anti sometimes jokes that Shawn better not make Dark some creepy doll

he despises the smell of ink (if you haven't worked with ink that isn't just in a pen before: it has a p distinct smell)

none of the egos actually call him Shawn bc it sounds the same as Seán and gets confusing easily, they usually call him Flynn and he doesn't mind

he loves making other trinkets aside from toys sometimes

he can also fix Bing's skateboard or Chase's Nerf guns for example if they were to ever be damaged

he pretends to mind all the extra work it gives him, but he always gives hand-made gifts

if he's pretending to be grumpy about it when handing over the gift, Jameson is usually behind him signing that he doesn't actually mind btw, don't believe him

by now p much every ego owns something made by Shawn

coffee is his lifeblood and he considers anything aside from actual brewed coffee a blasphemy

he isn't exactly an elitist when it comes to coffee he just can't stand the taste of instant coffee

Jameson or Marvin make him tea sometimes to drink instead of coffee bc they worry about his health

tends to forget to eat/sleep/go outside when he gets really immersed in his work

Jameson got him a lil alarm clock to tell him when he should take a break, but Shawn just kept snoozing it

up until Marvin enchanted it to run around evading his hand until he actually gets up

Shawn now keeps the clock locked away

he's pretty good at calligraphy with brushes, not so much with pens (bc once again, ink. also he's just not used to it)

but goddamn his regular handwriting is awful, no one can really read it aside from him

his hands are constantly covered in band-aids and dirty from paint/wax/anything else he works with

since Marvin is usually the one getting him said band-aids (either bc he's the one doing the shopping for him or bc Shawn keeps forgetting they exist*) they all have colourful patterns and stuff on them

(*band-aids were invented in 1920 and I think Shawn is from the 20s, so they still count as a recent invention to him, and he’d never seen colourful ones before Marvin first got him some)

will instinctively throw a punch if startled. Jameson learned that the hard way

he lives in the flat right above his workshop

actually, he lives in his workshop. There just happens to be a flat above it where he sometimes sleeps and cooks

he can only cook like three meals btw (he's not exactly a horrible cook, he's just never learned or felt the need to learn)

once he saw Seán's Sam plushies, he immediately tried to make one of his own. Now there's at least ten of them of different shapes and sizes keeping him company in his workshop and flat

eventually Seán and most of the septic egos also got one

Robbie is not allowed to enter the workshop anymore after knocking stuff over and wanting to take every toy he saw home

so Shawn makes sure to visit him sometimes to make up for that bc he doesn't want Robbie to feel bad. He always brings him some sort of toy too, usually some kind of puzzle or fidget toy

he also made Robbie a weighted teddy bear and Robbie adores it

sometimes he tries to teach Jameson how to make certain toy-related things or toys, or to explain to him what he's doing at the moment. Jameson isn't super interested but he listens anyway

he once made Jameson a marionette puppet that looks like him

don't tell anyone but he loves Broadway musicals

once Marvin told him that "you look like the Newsies, all at once" and it took Shawn a bit to get it but then he couldn't stop laughing for minutes

he's probably the most sarcastic person you'll ever meet tbh

technically he needs glasses but he keeps forgetting to wear them, or accidentally breaking them, or getting them so dirty he can't see through them anyway, so you'll barely ever see him with glasses on

he thinks he knows how to be a proper smooth gentleman bc he's old-timey and bc he's friends with Jameson, but the truth is he just completely forgot how to speak when he first met Signe

[sweettsubaki]

About the ultimate ship meme - how do you feel about starting it with Tim & Kon?

Ho Ho, you know how to pander to my interests :D

About this

General:

Rate the Ship -  Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? Forever

How quickly did/will they fall in love?Over the years. Like there’s a layout since the beginning, the way they’re always calling out to each other than indicates a passion that could possibly one day turn into romance, but that’s it. Imo It started between the moment Kon started to live with the Kent and the end of the preboot (and I do mean started, they basically had 2 years for the friendship to turn romantic). Nothing happened the feelings were really there and it was actual romantic love instead of just having romantic feelings for the other (mostly because I don’t think they’ll realize it’s not just friendship until…a little while).I honestly don’t see them get together until they’re 19-20 at least 

How was their first kiss? I have so many different hc for that one. One of my favorite is just that they started kissing each other on the cheek when they’re going back home or something (like “Gotta get back to Ma, See ya later guys” *bends slightly to kiss Tim on the cheek ‘cause he was just there, because they’re almost always next to each other*) and like at one point it turns into a peck on the lips. And they don’t realize it happened until the next time they do it because then there’s someone with them who just gets completely shocked and it just…hits them.

Wedding:

Who proposed? I don’t know? I think it just might have come up in a conversation and neither actually remembers who proposed. (I can also see them going a lifetime always forgetting to pop up the question ‘cause they’re already married in their mind)

Who is the best man/men? Dick and Bart obviously

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? Cass and Cassie. People make fun of that…a lot.Maybe Barbara and Roxi too.

Who did the most planning? The Wedding Planner, Ma and Bart. DO NOT leave these two to plan anything

Who stressed the most? Either Both or Neither. I don’t think they’d see it as such a big deal. The hardest part would probably be if they did a civilian and a hero wedding.

How fancy was the ceremony?  Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.I’m torn because on the one hand neither wants to do something big, on the other hand, they’ll probably do something a bit fancy to please other people and/or the paparazzi. I’m not sure how religious Conner is but Tim isn’t so I didn’t pick the 5th one for obvious reasons.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? I’m not sure if there’s anyone who they specifically don’t want at the wedding. Maybe Jason? But he and Tim are on relatively good terms by the end of the preboot but not enough to invite him anyway so…

Sex:

Who is on top? they’re probably versatile

Who is the one to instigate things? Probably depends on the moment?

How healthy is their sex life? Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now I’d say healthy but I honestly try to never think about it so… (also this seems to be “do they have a high libido” rather than actually thinking about how healthy their sex life is)

How kinky are they? Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head Literally no idea. so I’m shooting in the dark (no awful pun intended)

How long do they normally last? Considering their training/Genetics they probably have a lot of stamina so…

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? Probably yeah. They might have a contest as to who gives more to the other though

How rough are they in bed? Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.Probably depends on their state of mind

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do?  No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? lol (unless you think of them using the cloning devices Tim tries to use to recreate Conner, that Cadmus had used to create him in the first place…then I guess…like…1)

How many children will they adopt? Depends on the story I have in mind. I think they’ll only adopt if a child comes their way looking devastated (on of the rare things I think Tim shares with Bruce). I’d say between 0 and 3.One is Helena (yes Catwoman’s daughter…Let’s just say that stuff happens and Tim finds her and she’s been very fond of red and black since she was a kid, so she latches on to him…they never leave each other’s side after that).Another one is totally @Chonaku-Things’ fault with her AU where Tim ends up taking care of Koonak (Mr Freeze’s adopted kid in the Batman cartoon) while Mr Freeze accepted to do his time in Arkham.And another kid whose name I keep changing so I’m gonna call them Maïte ‘cause I like the meaning (also it was my mom’s name so it helps :p).Also knowing that they already have Bart.

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? Both. They find a way to share the task equally (as in they try to get the other to do more and end up doing the same amount)

Who is the stricter parent? Depends. Tim’s stricter for the basic “but you could hurt yourself” stance, where Conner’s much more of an “I’m telling you it’s a bad idea but you can try it, I’ll just be behind you the whole time, making sure you’re okay” parent for basic injury related stuff. Other than that, Kon is stricter on basic health like food, or doctors, he gets scared when there’s a tiny bit of a cough starting anywhere in the household. The rest of the time they either alternate or are as strict/lenient as the other and they always make sure to listen to the other’s reasoning and come to a compromise if need be.

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? Tim, though he doesn’t stop them so much as encourage them to go the less dangerous route “sneakily” (the kids realize it half the time but humor him ‘cause they love being protected from this kind of stuff).They’re both adamant that none of their kids become vigilantes until they’re at least 16-18 though. 

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? Conner

Who is the more loved parent? Depends on the kids. Usually, it’s both because like ½ the kids I envision were under Tim’s care before he adopted them (he’s a foster parent in half my post-Reboot AUs, go figure) and before he got together with Kon and they just adopted Kon as a second parent along the way.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? The one who’s free at the moment (so probably Tim 3/5th of the time)

Who cried the most at graduation? Neither but they hugged their kids so much they all got bored and started communicating with their sibling with their eyes, trying to get them off their backs.

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? Neither really. They’re both pretty honest people who raised honest kids….If the kids are in trouble and they did something they should own up to it however if the law picked on them unjustly (because they’re kids or PoC, or were just at the wrong place at the wrong time), they’ll both raise hell. (In my mind Kon goes on to get a law degree ‘cause he likes finding loopholes so he’s pretty helpful on that side, but Tim has the money so…).

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? Both. Conner was very adamant in lessening the amount of Junk Food Tim eats because of his asplenia though.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? They’re kind of the same about that one. They each have their No Go Food.

Who does the grocery shopping? Whoever has the time when stores are open….Tim most probably

How often do they bake desserts? At least once a week. Since their Time Table doesn’t always match the one who’s free tries to make something for the other. It becomes a tradition when they have kids to bake a small cake for the other parent to show that they all miss him.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? meat lovers. Both of them? Though Conner always feels bad ‘cause he’s helped with the Kent farm and he knows Cows are total sweethearts.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? Both, but neither is actually surprised since they know the other’s tells. It kinda becomes a game over the years that they alternate who plans what and to try and plan something without the other guessing what exactly (the use of specific gear or powers can or cannot be allowed depending on what kind of anniversary they’re celebrating. It’s a lot of stress, frustration and ultimately a very fun part of their lives)

Who is more likely to suggest going out? Both. Again it really depends. Tim’s more of a social butterfly but he probably wants to enjoy his bf’s company in the comfort of their home when he can because of their clashing timetables. So Conner might be the one to actually suggest it because he knows Tim would actually enjoy it.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? Both are easily distracted so….

Chores:

Who cleans the room? Conner doesn’t have the choice, if he doesn’t, Tim never will.

Who is really against chores? Tim (Conner’s a close second but someone has to be firm…that someone is Bart)

Who cleans up after the pets? Both

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? Both, but especially Tim.

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? Conner

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? Both did, they don’t know where they come from, they’re this close to thinking their apartment makes money magically appear (they both rationally know it probably comes from Tim’s or Bruce’s pockets but it’s less fun to think about)

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? Both

Who takes the dog out for a walk? Both, they take Krypto out together, ‘cause they use the opportunity for a romantic flight

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? Whenever they can, it helps them feel normal.

What are their goals for the relationship? Just be happy together

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? Tim

Who plays the most pranks? Both