#there's no walking out of that gig mentally stable

[mysoulspiralbound]

fucking christ, tim drake-wayne. i mean holy-feral-birds-batman, there is something deeply fucked up about this man. i just... wow. i have no words. you are right none of them are normal.

[wintaerbaer]

things we don’t say: part 3 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 9.0k

chapter warnings: kook has literally zero chill (i’m so sorry about him), jimin channels his inner dominic toretto, taehyung is so sweet he’s giving me cavities, discussions of infidelity, swear words, namjoon still gives the best hugs

a/n: thanks for the patience in waiting for this one! for those who may have missed it, i ultimately opted to split this into two chapters, so now we’re looking at seven parts and an epilogue. :)

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

"I can make you a drink?"

"It's noon."

"So?"

You sigh, slumping on the couch. "I appreciate it, Kook, but I'm just���" You stretch out, pressing your toes into his thigh. "Tired."

The week has gone by in a blur of tears and sleep. You'd taken the rest of the week off, thankful both that you had been carefully banking your PTO in case of an emergency and also for having a manager that prioritizes empathy and mental health. When you'd practically had a breakdown explaining your situation over the phone, she'd quickly granted you the time off—no questions asked—and told you to take care of yourself.

It's been mostly your friends taking care of you, however. After the night you came back from the beach house, you'd been whisked away to the guys' apartment to stay with them, camping out on their pull-out couch, which they’d insisted you could have for as long as you want (Taehyung had pushed you to take his bed, offering to stay in the living room, but you'd begged him not to make you feel worse by displacing him, and he'd eventually acquiesced). Maya and Taehyung had then gone back late the next day to pack you a bag with no Jace encounters.

He'd only texted you once—to provide a weak apology and to let you know he'd clear out of the apartment.

Still, your plan is to stay with the guys for a while; you don't think you could bear to be in your apartment alone right now, especially knowing that Jace has been with someone else in your bed. It's like the image is seared behind your eyelids, tormenting you every time you blink and pushing your mental fortitude to its absolute limit. You haven’t made it a single day without a breakdown, feeling as though you’re constantly trying to walk an emotional tightrope.

Except the tightrope isn’t pulled taut and is also on fire.

That being said, you welcome the distraction of having your friends around. Between Jimin working days, Jungkook working nights, and Taehyung having a flexible schedule with the museum and his photography gigs, someone is always around to spend time with you. Maya’s also taken it upon herself to pop in almost every night with wine, chocolate, or some other variation of breakup food and hang out for a while. You'd feel bad about their attentiveness (you feel sometimes like they're babysitting you), if not for the fact that it's the only thing keeping you remotely sane as you fluctuate between sobs and an overwhelming numbness.

This Sunday afternoon, it's Jungkook's turn to babysit; Taehyung left to run some errands an hour ago, while Jimin slept in late and is currently taking a shower. Jungkook's reclined on the sofa next to you, longs legs stretched out in front of him with his fingers laced behind his head. You'd thrown on a TV movie—some bullshit about a woman who goes through trials of love, only to realize that her perfect man was hidden in plain sight the entire time.

If only life were that fucking easy.

"Do you want an ice cream sundae?" Jungkook suggests as the credits roll. "I can make you an ice cream sundae."

"Are you just suggesting things that make your twelve-year-old brain happy?"

His lower lip pushes out in thought. "No, if I was going to suggest things that cheer me up when I'm sad, I'd offer to go down on you—"

"What the fuck, Kook."

"Which I'm game if you are, but I didn't think you liked me like that."

"Yeah, I think I'll pass."

"Suit yourself."

"Leave her alone, idiot. She's fragile." Jimin steps into the living room from the hall, fully dressed but still towel drying his hair. He takes in your relaxed forms on the couch—you, halfway burrowed under multiple blankets—and frowns. "You're not dressed yet?"

You blink slowly at him. "Should I be?"

"Yeah, Kook and I are taking you somewhere." He looks over at the man sitting beside you. "You didn't tell her?"

Jungkook's mouth stretches into a wide grin. "Surprise!"

You're still processing what the hell is happening—your plans for today were to park yourself in this spot and not leave—when Jimin strides over and yanks the blankets off of your body.

"Chim!"

"C'mon, get dressed. We have an appointment," he says. "And wear something comfortable. You're gonna love it, I promise."

A half hour later and you’re sitting in the back of Jungkook’s black Mercedes, watching the city pass by outside your window. Now that you’re up, it does feel nice to be out of the apartment instead of wallowing inside on the couch with a tissue box in your lap (which had been the general trend of the past week). Even listening to Jungkook and Jimin bickering about navigation up front helps to distract you from the dread that lingers like a blanket draped over your shoulders. All-in-all, you feel like you’re managing the fallout of your relationship as best as one can—at least when they find their almost-fiancé in bed with another woman. But grieving the loss still means that you’ve barely eaten, barely slept, and it’s not long before you’re dozing off in the backseat, dreaming of college—of sandy brown hair and green eyes.

You wake to Jimin’s hand on your shoulder gently shaking you out of your nap.

“Hey, we’re here.”

You’re on the outskirts of the city, it seems, in front of a squat, gray building that looks almost like a tiny warehouse. Peering up at the neon sign, you read, “Smash City Rage Room?”

“Cool, right?” Jungkook says, leaning against the side of the car.

You can physically feel the lines stretching across your forehead. “I don’t get it. We’re going to…?”

“Break stuff!” He takes your hand to pull you along. “Let’s go!”

You're led into a small, unassuming lobby—flat gray like the outside. Jimin gets you checked in with a burly-looking man behind a desk, who (after you’ve all signed some suspicious-looking release forms) promptly brings the three of you to a back room where you're fitted with protective jumpsuits, helmets, and goggles and instructed to "choose a weapon" from a rack filled with baseball bats and sledgehammers. At this point, Jungkook is practically bouncing out of his skin, the absolute picture of a golden retriever waiting for a ball to be thrown.

"You guys are really trying to distract me by taking me to Kook's version of Disneyland, huh?"

"That depends, is it working?" he says, grasping one of the hammers and weighing it in his hands.

"I'm skeptical but open-minded."

"Perfect!"

He hands you a bat, and your brawny host leads you to your final room—a wide, concrete space with a sturdy table in the middle and piles and piles of objects. Wine glasses, dinner plates, a computer monitor, and even a flat screen TV sit in heaps along the walls amongst some broken shards from previous visitors.

"You're free to smash anything in the room," the muscle man says in a gruff voice, "just no intentional damage to the building's structure. If you need something, you can flag us down through the camera up there," he points to the device in one of the ceiling's corners, "and someone will come check on you. Otherwise, just be safe and have fun. We'll come get you after an hour." Then he's swinging the door shut behind him.

You look blankly at the two men in front of you. "Now what?"

"We smash!" Jungkook says happily, already dragging the flat-screen onto the table. Then, before you can even respond: "Not like that, Y/N. Get your mind out of the gutter." He swings the sledgehammer down onto the TV screen, and it caves in on itself as Jungkook giggles maniacally.

"We thought this might help to let off steam," Jimin says, cracking a smile as he slams his bat into a propped up picture frame. "Try it!"

The two of them watch with wide, expectant eyes as you gingerly pick up a small drinking glass and place it delicately on the table.

"So now I just…?" You halfway lift the baseball bat, peering down at the poor, unassuming glass in front of you.

Jungkook leans forward, eyes eager, gesturing with the hammer in a light swinging motion he's clearly wanting you to mimic.

So you swing, bringing the bat down onto the lip of the glass with a moderate amount of force. It shatters, pieces flying outwards like little slivers of shrapnel.

It feels good.

The guys cheer, and Jimin reaches down to grab a champagne glass, setting it in front of you.

"Now pretend this one is that asshole's balls."

You hesitate, the mention of Jace causing the fist that's been around your heart to squeeze. You're angry with him, sure, fury simmering in your belly even now. But your biggest struggle and the source of all of your pain this week has been wrangling with your lingering feelings. Four years of loving someone are not so easily erased.

But you wish you could wipe it all from your mind.

You wish you could hate him.

"Let it out," Jimin murmurs, as you continue to stare, your hands gripping the bat. "This is the place."

You visualize Jace's face in your mind. His bright green eyes, his crooked smile, the tiny scar on his forehead from when he fell off his bike when he was nine. You can practically hear his voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

And then you see him in bed a week ago, his lips pressed to another woman's neck.

The champagne glass explodes like a small bomb into a million tiny crystals.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jungkook yells, and it’s then that you realize that you were the one who swung the bat.

Your body is a live wire, pumping with adrenaline and a newfound rage. Before you know it, you don’t even have the patience to pick up the objects and place them on the table. Instead, you’re spinning around in a whirlwind, destroying plates and glasses and small kitchen appliances indiscriminately.

“This is for all of the lies about late nights!”

BOOM.

“This is for the fact that I’ve barely been able to breathe this past week!”

CRASH.

“This is for that dumb-ass crooked smile like he thinks he’s the star of some shitty movie!”

WHAM.

“And this is for that stupid, fucking green jacket.”

You channel all of your anger through the bat—every tear, every minute of lost sleep turned into shards of glass and debris. The tears come at some point, but you barely feel them as you scream out your frustrations, Jimin and Jungkook cheering you on the whole time.

It’s not a magical cure-all by any means, but you do feel a tiny bit of relief ease itself into your shoulders.

An hour later, you embrace both men in the parking lot. “Thank you,” you say, “for everything you guys have been doing for me. I needed this.”

Jimin shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Hey, I owed you for that time when I got passed over for promotion, and you brought me to Bar 613 and paid for all my drinks.”

“I just wanted to smash stuff,” Jungkook teases with a grin, but he rubs playfully at your upper back to let you know he’s kidding.

Jimin’s phone chirps with a notification, and he pulls it out of his pocket, squinting at the screen before muttering, “Hmm, Tae’s not ready yet.”

“Ready for what?” you ask, a feeling creeping in that your day of surprise distractions isn’t quite over.

“You’ll see soon enough.” Jimin’s knowing smile twinkles with mischief. “In the meantime, what do you say we get some ice cream?”

“What do you mean you’re not coming?”

You’d returned from your rage room and ice cream outing only for Jungkook to swing his car into the “No Parking” zone outside the apartment and promptly kick you out to the curb, a pair of impish smiles flashing at you from the front seats.

“We have strict instructions to stay clear of the apartment for the next several hours,” Jimin chimes. “So we’re going to entertain ourselves for a while.”

You narrow your eyes at them, knowing they’re not going to spill but making a feeble attempt anyway. “What did he do?”

“Go find out!” Jimin says, just as Jungkook shouts, “Bye!” and rolls up the window right in your face.

You enter the building with a sigh, swinging the plastic bag from your wrist that holds the takeout container of rocky road that you’d gotten for Taehyung. A part of you wants to be whiny about your friends making such a fuss for you, working so hard to cheer you up, but at the end of the day, you just feel loved. Tomorrow, you may wake up with a hollow chest, your heart scraped out in the middle of the night as it has been for every day the past week, but for now, you let a little flame of happiness warm your insides.

You do hope, though, that Taehyung didn’t go through too much trouble for whatever he has planned for tonight. He’s already spent a majority of the past week hovering, holding you when you cry, and otherwise keeping a close watch on your moods. And in spite of him trying to be subtle, you’ve noticed how he doesn’t close his bedroom door all the way at night so he can listen for you.

He’s a great friend, the best, but the fact that you care about him, too, means that you don’t necessarily want to burden him, don’t want to be the source of his worry.

It sucks that you’re doing a shit job of it.

Probably just a movie night, you think during the elevator ride up. Like we’d do in college.

But when you slip the key into the lock and slide the door open, your heart immediately leaps into your throat, the bag of ice cream almost slipping from your fingers.

The apartment has been positively upended, furniture rearranged, flipped, stacked, and draped with blankets to create a massive pillow fort in the middle of the living room. It has to be almost eight feet tall, and you wonder what the rest of the rooms look like as you spy all three of the guys’ desk chairs incorporated into the structure—clearly, the entire apartment was raided to create this behemoth. Around the dining room and kitchen, dozens of candles have been placed and lit to give the open space an ambient glow, accentuated by the lowering sun dipping down outside the massive windows.

When the door swings itself to latch shut with a soft click, there’s a rustling sound before Taehyung’s head pops out of the fort, and he beams as he comes to stand in front of you.

“What do you think?” he hums as you continue to stare incredulously at the scene behind him. You try to say something, you should say something, but tears begin to flow over your cheeks instead, causing the room to blur and Taehyung to pull you into a hug. “Okay, I have to admit this is the opposite of what I was going for.”

You press a watery chuckle into his chest. “This is incredible,” you gasp, shifting back to look at him.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says. “And that’s not even all. Come look.”

He guides you to the kitchen, where you now notice the counters are littered with all of your favorite comfort foods alongside the snacks you used to share growing up: sugar cookies and popcorn, potato chips and pretzels, brownies and bite-sized chocolates.

“Just like old times. And—“ He lifts the lid off a pot on the stove, and you’re quickly enveloped in the soothing scent of tomatoes and basil. “Spaghetti for dinner.”

It was the first meal you ever made together. In retrospect, the lumpy, acidic sauce you concocted in your parents’ kitchen that day was far from perfect. But at the time, you’d called it the best meal you’d ever eaten, and Taehyung has spent the subsequent years perfecting his own recipe. He doesn’t make it often, but when he does, it’s the perfect blend of nostalgia and warmth.

“And to think, all I brought you was this,” you say sadly, dangling the bag limply from your hand. But Taehyung snatches it from you in a flash, digging in like it’s a Christmas present. When he pulls out the papery white container, he grins like it’s much more than just half-melted ice cream.

“Rocky road?” he asks, smiling even more widely when you nod. “This is amazing, Y/N. Thank you.”

You study him quietly as he puts the ice cream away in the freezer—just to soak in this beautiful, home-shaped human being—and he raises his eyebrows at you when he turns back around.

“What?” he asks, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s trying to hide yet another smile.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you glance away. “Nothing.”

But the truth is, standing here in his kitchen, observing his tender movements as he carefully rearranges the snacks on the counter top—it’s the first time in a week that you’ve been able to breathe. And maybe it’s just because it’s been days of suffocating pressure around your chest, but the air pushing through your lungs now feels sweeter, richer as he looks up to capture your gaze again and gently takes your hand in his.

“Come see the inside.”

He pulls you to the mass of furniture and blankets, sweeping back an opening in the fabric to usher you in, and you gasp as he reveals the pillow fort of your childhood dreams.

It’s massive, tall enough for you to stand comfortably in, with wide walls and a tented ceiling that seems to suggest Taehyung has somehow tethered it to the apartment’s actual ceiling. The floor is absolutely packed with pillows, cushions, and heaps of additional blankets, and if you aren’t mistaken, there’s a literal mattress (maybe two?) buried underneath it all.

But the part that has your throat constricting on a sob, tears streaming once again, is the tiny side table he’s placed to the side, your star lamp glowing on top.

“How did—“ you choke, still taking it all in. The fort, the snacks, the lamp. “How did you—?”

“Found the lamp in your closet when we went to get you that bag of clothes.”

“And,” you wave a weak hand at the scene around you, “all of this?”

“Chugged a couple energy drinks,” he chuckles. “And Maya came by for a bit earlier to lend a hand.”

“Tae,” you say, wiping at your cheeks.

“Y/N.”

“This is…” Beautiful. Magical. Extraordinary. No single word seems adequate enough to describe what you’re feeling, his recreation of your childhood tradition to the nth degree tipping you into a state of practical euphoria after the hell of a week you’ve just had. You’d swear you feel like you’re about to combust with the amount of relief that’s flooding through your body in this moment, anger and grief giving way to joy and an overwhelming sense of fondness for the man in front of you.

You never complete your sentence, but Taehyung still seems to grasp your meaning, reaching out to squeeze your fingers one last time in a gesture of acknowledgment and understanding before he simply says, “Let’s eat.”

The two of you gather yourselves heaping bowls of pasta before burrowing into your pillow fortress, backs pressed up against the couch, which is being used to support one side of it.

“How was the rage room?” Taehyung asks, tomato sauce staining his lips.

“Surprisingly cathartic. But…”

“But?”

You rub at your temple before letting your hand fall in a huff. “Temporary. It all is. Every time I think I’m getting a moment to catch my breath, I feel like I’m being punched in the chest a second later.”

“It’s only been a week,” he says. “You’re grieving. It’s going to take time.”

“I don’t want it to though,” you snap, immediately regretting your tone, even though Taehyung looks unfazed. “I just want to turn it off. He did this terrible thing, and I should hate him for it. I want to hate him for it.”

“But you don’t,” Taehyung says, jaw clenching.

Throat swelling, you choke on the words as they find their way out. “I thought I was going to marry him.” The all-too-familiar pressure in your chest rears its head again, suffocating you from the inside. “We had all these plans.” Your breaths turn shallow, coming out in short, rough pants quickly joined by tears that Taehyung rushes to wipe away.

You’ve never known love could hurt like this until now, and for all intents and purposes, Jace was your first real love. You’d had a smattering of boyfriends in high school, but never anything long term until him—nothing that ever made your heart feel like it was going through a shredder, a blender, and a hurricane all at once when it ended. And it’s not just your idea of him or your relationship that you’re mourning, but also the future that you thought you’d have together. The dreams you had dared to dream when you’d traded ideas of rings and children and white picket fences while tangled together in bed.

Sensing an imminent panic attack, Taehyung pulls you into his lap and loops his arms around you, coasting his hands up and down your back in long strokes. He’s done this every time you’ve broken down around him over the past several days, the physical sensation giving you something else to focus on when the thoughts and memories of your now-ex come flooding through the mental barriers you’ve been trying and failing to construct.

You concentrate instead on the ministrations of Taehyung’s hands, the warmth of his large palms resting over your shirt, the glide of his fingers tracing your spine over and over. His fingertips trail up to your neck (inhale) and back down to your sacrum (exhale) on a loop as you clutch the soft fabric of his own shirt. And as the dread looming under your skin begins to ebb away, you notice how your breathing has synced up, pressed chest to chest like you’re two halves of one whole. It’s calming, the light press of his ribcage expanding against yours, and it serves as enough of a distraction to get yourself under control, your feelings stuffed back into their box for the time being.

When you lean back to look at him, his dark brown eyes map your face, steady as ever.

“Better?”

“Better.” You nod weakly. “But life would still be so much easier if love worked like a switch.”

His brow tilts downward a fraction, a touch of melancholy passing over his face. “If only.”

“That makes me an idiot though, right?” you ask. “To still feel for him even after that.”

“No, it makes you human,” Taehyung says, before his expression suddenly turns grave. “Has he contacted you?”

You sniffle, rubbing at your nose. “Nothing besides that one text saying he would clear out of the apartment.”

“Good,” he murmurs. “Listen, I think everything you’re feeling is normal, and you shouldn’t put any pressure on yourself to process it any particular way.” A pink tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “But please, Y/N. Please promise me you’ll never take him back if he asks.”

Truth be told, the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind until now—imagining a teary Jace on your doorstep, begging you to give him just one more chance. In spite of your lingering feelings for him, the image only stirs up a dull rage, disgust burning like acid in your stomach.

“Not a chance,” you say, twining your pinky around his for a brief moment, and he visibly relaxes, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t think I ever want to see him again. But it…it hurts.”

You struggle to pull in a breath that doesn’t want to come, chin dipping down to your chest before Taehyung begins to move. Long fingers reach out to squeeze your hips before nimbly dancing down to your ankles bracketing his legs, where they give you another squeeze. He works his way up your body from there, moving his hands to your knees. Squeeze. Your ribs. Squeeze. Your shoulders. Squeeze. Elbows. Squeeze. Wrists. Squeeze.

He’s pinching each joint of your fingers between the pads of his own when you finally ask, “Tae? What are you doing?”

He doesn’t even look up, zoned in on his task. “Putting you back together.”

“Is that how it works?”

“Yeah, Hobi and Joon have been giving me lessons.”

You snort, and it appears to be the reaction he was hoping for because he beams up at you as you keen forward with laughter until you’re practically sharing breath, faces mere inches apart.

Time freezes; something in the universe shifts.

Your eyes wander over his face, tracing the paths between details that you subconsciously know are there but which you’re not sure you’ve ever truly looked at: the deep brown of his eyes, the mole on the tip of his nose, the plush curve of his lower lip.

He’s beautiful. It’s something you’ve always been aware of—an obvious fact of life in the same way the sky is blue—but you’re also lucky enough to know that his beauty goes beyond a handsome face. It’s also in the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs with his whole body, the way he always carries crackers in his bag for photo shoots at the park so he can toss some to the ducks.

The way he’ll upend his entire apartment to help heal your broken heart.

Artificial stars dance around the fabric walls like fireflies as you become hyperaware of how his hands have drifted back to your hips, barely there but warm. It’s soothing, you think, to be held between the boundaries of his palms, as if nothing and no one can touch you here. But it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? He’s always been your primary source of comfort, your north star at every turn, propping you up within the safety of your own little world like he does now.

His warmth is a siren’s song that has you shifting closer, your hands sliding from his chest to his shoulders, when his grip on your hips suddenly tightens as he breathes out your name.

“Mmm?”

“We have snacks to get to.”

The bubble pops as Taehyung shifts you off his lap, darting away to the kitchen. You, however, stay firmly rooted to your spot in the blanket fort; your mind whirs, an unfamiliar tingling sensation gently working its way through your nerve endings and making your stomach dip. It’s not at all unpleasant, but you don’t know what to make of it, thoughts turning without reaching any kind of foregone conclusion until Taehyung ducks back under the blanket and into your space, arms overflowing with snack bags.

He smiles at you and your stomach dips again.

But your mind quiets.

He’s your person, you think. Undoubtedly now more than ever as he settles back down next to you like the rock he’s always been.

“Story time?” he murmurs, the light passing across his face as he hands you a bag of your favorite chips. You gently place it in your lap without opening it, still jittery from the way he held you only seconds ago. Watching you with hooded eyes, he frowns at your lack of movement, the way your fingers have stilled on the plastic. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you say, sitting up straighter so he doesn’t feel like you’re ignoring him. “Wouldn’t be a blanket fort without a story, right?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the light on the walls is now radiating from Taehyung himself as he launches into a clearly premeditated narrative about a princess and her devoted, best friend of a knight. After being betrayed by a prince from a neighboring realm, the two embark on an epic journey to restore their own kingdom, traversing mountains and crossing oceans together to retrieve the enchanted crown jewel that the thieving prince had stolen away. Another handsome and charming prince captures the princess’s heart during their adventure, and, once her power is restored, the two marry in the most beautiful and romantic ceremony the kingdom has ever seen.

“And they live happily ever after,” Taehyung says with a flourish. He reaches over to steal a handful of potato chips before slipping a hand behind his head and settling deeper into the mattress. You frown down at him.

“But what about the knight?”

He slides a potato chip between his lips, lifting a dark eyebrow in confusion. “What about him?”

“Where’s his happily ever after?” you ask, almost annoyed on the fictional character’s behalf. “He climbed a mountain and fought a dragon for her. What did the prince do? Just stand there and look hot?”

His expression changes, eyes widening in subtle surprise. “It’s not his story.”

“But—“

“It���s not his story, Y/N.”

He says it with finality, so you drop it, left to grumble internally about what you feel was an unjust ending for the caring and loyal knight.

It was a sweet tale, but you can’t help but think that you would’ve written it differently.

The return to work isn't as bad as you anticipated. Your boss, Jia, noticing your frayed nerves, has been easing you back in slowly with a handful of softball projects just to get you going again. As much as you think you needed that week to cry and wallow, it feels good to get back to some form of normalcy and have work to focus on and keep your mind off of things as much as you can.

The shadows linger though, anxiety grabbing hold of your chest every time you remember you'll be going home to a different apartment that night instead of the one you shared with Jace.

Jimin's been joining you for lunch every day, hanging around outside the office cafeteria before you get there like he's staking you out. You call him out for it on Thursday, and he looks sheepishly down at the table with a nervous chuckle.

"I kinda promised Tae I'd make sure you eat."

"Of course," you sigh. Taehyung's been getting up early every morning to cook both of you breakfast, insisting that it's part of his normal routine.

He forgets that you used to live together, and you know he's more of a granola bar guy in the morning, eager to get himself out the door and moving as soon as possible.

"You're all doing too much for me," you murmur. "You shouldn't have to babysit me like—"

"We don't have to do anything," Jimin says forcefully. "We want to be there for you. We do these things because we care about you."

"I know, but I just…" You swallow hard. "I don't want you all to see me as this broken thing that you need to protect."

Jimin's whole demeanor softens, and he reaches across the table to take your hand. You'd be worried about how this looks—two coworkers holding hands at lunch—if you didn't feel the tears welling up again, the urge to cry sticking itself in your throat like molasses as you try to choke it down.

"Y/N, that's not what we think," he says softly. "You're our friend. And you're hurting. And after the trauma you went through, it's perfectly understandable for you to need a little more attention and care than usual. Honestly, if anything, I'm worried that you seem to be taking things better than expected, and I think that's because you're trying to put a brave face on for us sometimes."

He’s not off-base. Especially after your Distraction Day, you've been doing your best these past few days to bottle everything down so your friends don't worry as much, taking your time to cry in the shower or quietly at night when everyone else is asleep.

"All I'm saying is that you can lean on us. That's what we're here for. And if your tough face can't fool me, you're definitely not fooling Tae. Let him help before he goes crazy with worry.”

Honestly, relying on Tae has been the least of your problems, even though you’re a little concerned about how he’s been waking up earlier than usual for you. That man has been your rock for years, and receiving comfort from him is almost second-nature at this point. It’s how the two of you operate. Everyone else, however…

“I’m fine with Tae,” you tell him. “But I’ve never felt this…vulnerable around the rest of you. It used to just be Tae and I, hiding away from our problems in my room, and now—“

“You have us!” He beams. “That’s a beautiful thing, Y/N, can’t you see? You’re not alone anymore. Not you, not Tae. You have us. All of us. We’re going to get you through this. And if you need a silver lining, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Jungkook and Maya this united against a common enemy before. I could’ve sworn I heard them the other night trying to figure out the best way to slash Jace’s tires without getting caught.”

“Don’t make me cry at work,” you say, blinking furiously to try and clear the sudden moisture from your eyes. “I think Jia is already prepared to send me home if I don’t stop sounding like I’m learning how to breathe for the first time.”

He laughs gently, giving your hand a squeeze before relinquishing it. “It’s going to get better, Y/N. I know I just called you our friend, but really, we’re family.”

The summer presses on in a haze as you focus on just getting through one day, one step at a time: get out of bed, go to work, come home, shower, try to get a few hours of fitful sleep, eat somewhere in between all of that. And before you know it, an entire month has passed.

Taehyung continues to make you breakfast every morning and insists on taking you to your favorite ramen place at least twice a week for dinner, watching you with concerned eyes from across the table. You’d give him shit for it if his worry didn’t feel so justified. If he wasn’t so persistent in making sure your base needs were being met, you’re not entirely sure you can say you wouldn’t be starving yourself in grief. And you know it makes him feel better to see you eating—how happy it makes him to care for others—so you don’t resist when he pushes an extra pancake onto your plate or orders you a second helping of noodles to go.

It’s one of your scheduled ramen nights when you get back from work a little later, a particularly emotional day preventing you from getting your tasks done on time. You drop your bag in the living room with a sigh, thankful that no one is around to ask you how your day was—you’re really not in the mood. Taehyung had sent you a text letting you know that he wanted to take a shower before you head out, needing one after a long day of photographing clients in the baking July heat. You can hear water running in the bathroom, so you assume he must still be in there.

The living room makes you feel vulnerable with its vaulted ceiling and tall windows, like you’re laid bare for the whole world to see. Because of this, you decide to wait for Taehyung in his bedroom, hopeful that you might be able to find some reprieve in his tucked-away space.

You’ve been in Taehyung’s room before, of course, but you’re not sure that you’ve ever taken the time to really peruse. Unlike Jace, Taehyung’s space is neatly organized, and you’re first drawn to the large bookcase that dominates the wall adjacent to the door. He’s stuffed it full of art anthologies: Van Gogh, Renoir, Monet, and Pollock giving way to old photography textbooks on the bottom shelves. About halfway down, you spot the bound collection of his own work that you’d had made for him as a college graduation gift (you got one for yourself too, and he’d blushed beautifully when you asked him to sign it).

Across the room, his bed is carefully made, dark bedding tucked cleanly under the mattress. In place of a nightstand and opposite the dresser, he’s set up a series of box shelves for his photography equipment—you spot lenses and tripods placed alongside gadgets you would have no idea how to use. His desk sits to the left, an impressive PC setup backed by a large cork-board brimming with post-it notes, business cards, and a photograph that has you stopping in your tracks.

The first photograph Taehyung ever took.

It’d been the spring right after you both turned sixteen, and Taehyung had finally saved up enough money from his newspaper job to buy his first camera at the secondhand shop. You’d gone along, bouncing up and down with excitement for him so vigorously that the shopkeeper kept giving you strange looks over the counter.

New toy in hand, Taehyung pulled you to the park, where the cherry blossoms were in full bloom—clusters of pastel pink contrasting wonderfully against the bright blue sky. You bought yourselves some kkwabaegi at a nearby food stall as Taehyung sat on a bench figuring out how to operate the camera. Distracted by the numerous dials and buttons, he didn’t even realize you had returned until you dusted his cheek with a bit of cinnamon sugar, teasing that his cheeks were just as fluffy as the donut you subsequently handed him with a smile.

Snacks finished, you strolled along the petal covered path, chatting about everything and nothing as Taehyung continued to fiddle with the controls.

“Are you going to be able to figure it out?” you asked, skipping ahead to pluck a wildflower out of the grass after several minutes had passed without him taking a single photo.

“Actually, I think I’ve just got it.”

“Really?” you said, turning around to face him and freezing at the sound of a click and the sight of the camera held at the ready in front of his face. His grin was full of mischief as he dropped his arms at your stunned look, and you rushed back to his side to give him a joking shove. “I wasn’t ready, you jerk. I’m going to look like an idiot.”

But Taehyung was still smiling widely, already striding down the path to line up his next shot. “Don’t worry. You looked perfect.”

You’d forgotten about the photograph after that day, as Taehyung never actually showed it to you. You figured that it probably didn’t turn out right, a blurry candid, and was scrapped. Now, looking at it, it’s not his best work, but it’s not nearly as bad as you’d pictured in the moment.

It’s you, backdropped by the pink of the blossoms, with delicate petals dancing around your form. Your eyes are bright and eager as you turn to face him, the corners of your lips upturned in the beginnings of a smile and the small purple flower raised halfway to your chest.

In spite of the struggles you know you were dealing with at home, you look content. Happy.

“Oh, you’re home.”

You jump, spinning around to face where Taehyung suddenly stands just inside the doorway, and you feel something flip low in your belly.

It’s not that you’ve never seen him shirtless—years of going to the beach house together have taken care of that—but here, in the low, intimate light of his bedroom, the sight of his mostly naked body strikes you in a way that it never has before. The veins in his arms and hands pop from the heat of the shower, skin tanned by his time spent outdoors. His dark hair is still wet and, as if on cue, a drop of water falls off the end of a ringlet, your eyes following as it rolls over sharp collarbones, down a toned chest and smooth stomach, and into the towel sitting low on his hips.

Taehyung clears his throat, and one look at his flushed face tells you that your perusal of his torso hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Why are you even looking?

“I—uh—sorry,” you mumble, snapping out of your trance also flustered, words spilling out in a jumble of unexpected nerves. “I had a rough day and just felt so exposed in the living room, and if Jimin or Kook showed up and asked me how I was, I was going to lose it so I came in here as a distraction, and I promise I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything—“

“Y/N, hey.” He crosses the room to where you stand, smiling gently down at you. “I don’t mind.”

You swallow, still looking for something to distract from the fact that you were very obviously just checking him out. “You still have this?” You point at the photo of yourself, and he looks at it, expression overcome with sentimentality.

“Yeah.”

“A reminder of how far you’ve come with your work?”

He turns his eyes back to yours, slow and warm as they settle on you. “A reminder of a perfect day,” he says, voice low, before creases form at his brow. “But your day wasn’t so good?”

Your gaze drops to the floor, and you suck your lips between your teeth in a gesture that is answer enough for him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He doesn’t push; never pushes. If you told him no, you know that’d be the end of it, and he’d spend the rest of your night together coming up with different threads of conversation to divert your attention. And perhaps it’s this awareness—his consistent and mindful respect of your boundaries—that makes you so willing to open up.

“I just can’t stop asking myself if I missed signs. If I could’ve done something different. Something better.”

“Y/N—“

“We were together four years, Tae. Four fucking years.” You pull in a breath, fighting off the stinging of tears in your eyes. “And in the end, I meant next to nothing to him.”

It’s the part you’ve been struggling with the most, how you gave him years of your life—nearly half of your twenties—and let him dig his fingers into your heart only to pull it apart like clay.

Revealed bits of yourself to him that you’ve only ever showed one other person.

That man stands in front of you now, gently scrutinizing your face as he considers your words. His hands drift your way as if of their own accord, hovering into your space without ever truly touching.

“Would you want to though?” he finally asks.

“What?”

“If you could’ve done something differently. Knowing what you know now.” A pink tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Would you?”

It’s a fair question, and you know what the right answer is supposed to be. You’re supposed to say that no, that son of a bitch can burn in hell for what he did. He’s trash, you can do better—all of the empty platitudes that are supposed to be expressed when a betrayal like this takes place.

But his actions don’t erase the years you spent together. Don’t mean that what you yourself felt wasn’t real.

And you loved him. You really did.

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung doesn’t exactly seem thrilled by that but nods nonetheless, his fingers wandering back to his sides to fidget with the edges of his towel. “You must know that none of it was your fault, though.”

“But if it was?” you question. “If I could’ve been a better girlfriend, a better partner—“

“It still wouldn’t have justified what he did.” There’s an edge to his voice now, a hint of anger. “Don’t you dare let that asshole make you feel like you deserved it.”

“But—“

“No. No buts,” he says roughly, hands shooting up to grip you around the elbows. “What he did is inexcusable. There’s no making sense of it, and there’s no one to blame but him.”

You know in your heart that what he says is true, but your newfound insecurities have had you questioning your sense of self—that maybe you had a part to play in what happened. A relationship is two people after all, maybe he wouldn’t have cheated if you had—

“You did nothing wrong,” Taehyung continues, reading your mind. “He made an active choice to sleep with someone else. If he had an issue with your relationship, he had a hundred other ways to approach it. He chose to do what he did.” His hands slide up to your shoulders, appraising. “You are kind and thoughtful. Fiercely loyal. Always want what’s best for those around you. You still get breathless for the first snowfall each winter and make the most delicious triple chocolate cake.” Fingers give you a gentle squeeze. “And you never take shit from anyone. Especially people who don’t give you the respect you deserve.”

His words are a balm sinking deep into your skin, but his voice sets something alight in your core, your veins thrumming at the spots where he holds you.

What in the world is this?

“Don’t let him convince you you’re anything less than the incredible person you are,” Taehyung continues, oblivious to your perplexed state. “And if he couldn’t value that, someone else will. Lots of other fish in the sea.”

He holds your stare, gaze boring into you like he can telepathically eliminate every doubt and insecurity rattling around your skull, and a stray voice at the back of your mind thinks that whichever woman eventually gets to wake up to those eyes every morning is going to be so damn lucky.

He frowns, licking his lips again as he finally notices that you’re not altogether with him. “Are you okay?”

Y/N, what the hell?

You give yourself a little shake, playing back what he just said. “I don’t know about that.”

“You’re not okay?”

“No,” you say, taking a step back so you can loosen his grip and clear your head. “About the whole fish thing. I kind of get it now.”

He’s clearly not following. “Get what?”

“Your break from dating,” you say. “Why you wanted to stop for a while.”

He raises a long finger to rub at his bottom lip. “That’s…not quite the same.”

“Why not?”

“There were…” He tilts his head as he considers his word choice, and another drop of water slides down his chest. “Underlying circumstances.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means it’s a story for another time when you’re not trying to deflect by turning this around on me.”

“I’m not deflecting,” you argue. “I’m just saying I understand where you’re coming from now. Dating sucks. People suck.”

He chews at the inside of his lip, studying you. “That wasn’t my intention when I told you that.”

“Yeah, well when you told me that, we didn’t know that my boyfriend was fucking another woman,” you scoff.

He sighs at your crude reminder. “There is a third option, you know.”

“What’s that?”

“Just let yourself be,” he says. “You don’t need to rush into anything either way. If something happens, it happens. If not, then no pressure to look for it. But maybe don’t close yourself off from opportunities entirely just because one bastard made a terrible decision.”

“Tae,” you begin with an exhausted, rattling breath. But he cuts you off, already anticipating your protest.

“I just know you, and I know you’ve always believed in love. Dreamed of finding ‘the one’ and settling down.” He wrinkles his nose. “Made that whole wedding mood board after Haneul kissed you for the first time when we were fifteen.”

That makes you laugh. “Hey, you helped me cut out the pictures.”

“I did.”

You look at each other for an instant, twin smiles reflected on your faces before yours falls. “I just don’t know.”

“And that’s fine,” he says kindly, gently. “It’s okay to need time, and it’s okay to want to step away from dating for a while. It would just be awful if he ruined that part of you, you know?” His voice lowers even further. “It’s a wonderful part of you.”

You feel warm all over, like the comfiest, fluffiest blanket has been draped around your shoulders.

Honestly, what would you even do without this man?

“You’re a great guy, Tae. Do you know that?”

He blushes, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and a tingle runs down your spine before he finally looks away.

“We should get going,” he tells you. “Namjoon and Hobi said they’d meet us.”

You dip your head, the moment gone. “Okay, but I’d recommend putting on some pants first.”

His face turns a deeper shade of red.

“Over here!”

Hoseok waves you down from a table at the back of the restaurant, pulling you in for a hug once you get there, just as he has every time he’s seen you since the incident with Jace. You’re then passed along to Namjoon, who embraces you with almost bone-crushing pressure.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, swaying you side-to-side. You just nod into his chest, giving him a tight squeeze before he releases you so you can slide into the seat next to Taehyung.

Aside from the hugs and the fact that the entire dinner is a ploy by Taehyung to get you to eat, the night feels relatively normal, and you’re grateful for it. Hoseok and Namjoon dramatically complain about the perils of medical school, regaling the two of you with stories about catastrophic anatomy labs and exam mishaps to your and Taehyung’s delight. The first blip comes when Hoseok absent-mindedly mentions an all-nighter of studying for boards while simultaneously working on seating arrangements before he immediately cuts himself off, throwing you a remorseful look.

“It’s fine, Hobi,” you say. “The world doesn’t just stop because my relationship did. And I’m still excited for you and Sunny.”

He nods but still looks apologetic, causing Namjoon to hop in with a change of subject. “Oh, by the way, I have my roommate situation settled.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh, I’m moving in with my friend Yoongi at the end of the summer.”

“Your childhood friend?” Taehyung asks.

“That’s the one,” Namjoon confirms with a nod. “We’re planning on having a little housewarming party once we’re settled if you’ll be up for it.”

“Sounds fun,” you say. “And I’d like to meet him.”

“He’s a great guy. Musician. He’s moving into the city for work.”

“Well if you vouch for him, I’m sure he’s wonderful.”

You don’t notice it, but Namjoon gets a glint in his eye. Sipping on his water, he glances between you and Taehyung before saying, “Speaking of great guys, I’d also like to introduce you to someone.”

Taehyung stills beside you; you freeze in equally stunned silence.

Hoseok’s eyes nervously dart to Taehyung then you as he says, “Ah, Namjoon, I don’t think—“

“If you’re up for it, of course.” Namjoon looks only at you, his tone casual as if he doesn’t notice the sudden tension. “He also just got out of a long-term relationship and is kind of a mess about it. I’m thinking it might do both of you good to get back out there in a low pressure situation, especially with someone who understands.”

“I…” You don’t know what to say. You’d meant what you said to Taehyung about taking a break from dating, but you also trust Namjoon. He wouldn’t set you up with a creep, and maybe he does have a point about a low pressure date to at least take that first step.

But isn’t it too soon? You and Jace were together for years, and it’s only been a little over a month. Are you supposed to take more time? Or should you just get that first date over with? It hits you suddenly that you don’t even know how to meet people now that you’re out of school. How do capital-A Adults even find dates? Maybe it would be better to meet up with someone that’s already been vetted by one of your friends instead of some random on a dating app.

Namjoon speaks up again as your mind spins. “It’s entirely up to you. I can give you his number, and if you decide to reach out, great. If not, no harm, no foul.”

Still undecided, you turn for a second opinion. “Tae, what do you think?”

But he’s staring intently at Namjoon, expression indecipherable. Namjoon finally shifts his attention from you to engage in an intense staring contest with Taehyung across the table, the two of them clearly having some kind of silent conversation while Hoseok looks on in obvious discomfort.

You’re sitting there—just trying to figure out what the hell is going on—when Taehyung abruptly faces you, slipping a hand over your knee.

“I think you should go for it.”

His eyes are sincere, his hand hot where it rests on your skin.

“Other fish in the sea, right?”

You blink at him. Well, that’s that then. If there’s anything in the world you have complete faith in, it’s that Taehyung would never lead you astray.

Turning back to Namjoon, you shift so Taehyung’s fingers fall away. “What’s his name?”

Namjoon smiles.

“Seokjin.”

NEXT

a/n: the next two parts are my favorite, and part 4 is already around 85% written so i'll be looking to get that out asap! in the meantime, please consider leaving a like, reblog, or feedback!

taglist is open!

[fixomnia-scribble]

JOB! JOB!

I am employed! After three months of applying to everything potentially doable on campus within my skill set, I finally have a job that I’m super excited about!

Permanent, union, full-benefits gig in a faculty exec’s office that fits perfectly with my work skills, studies and some side interests! The funny thing is, I was in the process for two jobs, and I had decided that this job was, by a slim margin, my #2 choice. Very different jobs but same pay grade.

My feeling was that the other job was more neurodivergent friendly, and would leave me with more mental space to focus on my studies and thesis. The job I’ve landed is way more interesting and has more responsibilities, but a much higher fuckup potential and will require constant awareness of ND/NT balancing. (Nurture the one, display the other. Somehow.) BUT it’s in a super exciting environment with all kinds of opportunities and scope.

So of course, after my interview for this job, I came away feeling like I’d just spent an hour dorking out with My People, and that the inbox assignment I had (Answering A Confrontational Student E-mail, and Getting A Pile Of Deans and Execs To Come To A Luncheon With A Donor) was more like a pair of fun writing prompts. Apparently after I left, the panel of three looked at each other and “Yup.” And the one that I’ve been in regular contact with, who I had an instant feeling of Office Buddy Material, will be my direct supervisor.

Considering how deeply I tend to identify with my jobs, it’s going to be an interesting transition. Envisioning the shape of the role, and seeing myself step into it - and making sure that I stay vigilant about not trimming the edges of myself to fit, but keep them with me too.

I haven’t had a permanent, stable union job with proper benefits since 2010. Though that had to do with my own decision to go back to school. To have both?? The sheer relief is a physical thing. And, AND this job covers tuition. That’s massive. I mean, yes, it’s basically a small write-off for the university, but for permanent staffers it places advanced degrees AND personal interest courses within reach.

I’m gonna get that PhD. Could do another Master’s in Arch and really get down to bones, not just qualitative critical Forensic Crim... I’d even have paid vacation to put towards field research...

Anyway. Solidarity forever, et cetera.

Next week I have a celebration lunch with my old office buddy, who has also just landed a new permanent campus job - only a short walk away, with a Starbucks, a phở restaurant and a beautiful outdoor water-feature and seating area in between our buildings!

[et-cant-phone-home-no-signal]

hi! i haven't been on here in a hot minute! lots has happened since i actually posted instead of reblogged so if anyone is interested in a bit of a ramble stick around, otherwise, here's a cool pic i took in no man's sky yesterday 🙌 getting back into my star wars rot so playing this and republic commando is gonna be my personality for the foreseeable future

anyway! if you're still here, awesome thanks i'm literally just gonna ramble a bit!! lots has happened in the past year for me and honestly, i'm so tired. graduated university with a 2:1 theatre degree (finished last june but grad was last october) and had to say goodbye to all my uni friends which sucked. i live in buckfuck nowhere so i don't often get to see people because trains are super expensive :((( i got really stuck job searching for months, there's not a lot going on in my area and i don't have a car (or a full licence) so it makes thinks more difficult when most jobs are out of your walking/public transport range and/or not something you're trained in.

eventually i got a job at my local cake shop as front of house staff, which was great while it lasted, but they owe us 2 months of wages and made most of front of house redundant,,,, and then they went into liquidation, so they owe me a lot of money which i have no clue if i'll ever see. it's honestly super draining mentally!! i had so many plans and budgets going and it all went straight down the drain so i'm back to step 1 again :////

currently i'm prepping for another london trip this sunday (i'm an associate artist for my friends theatre company which is cool!) to do photography for our queer cabaret evening. that at least is a stable gig as i'm the official photographer, but it doesn't pay well (doesn't come close to covering my train tickets), which is to be expected of small time theatre, but it's still frustrating when it's all you've really got and it happens every couple of months.

on a brighter note, my mum and i are going to london next weekend to see spirited away in the theatre!! super excited for that as it's my favourite ghibli movie (and my first! had it on dvd since I was 5) and we're making a weekend out of it. we'll get in on friday, check into our hotel and peruse a museum or two, then saturday we have the performance followed by a reservation in a sushi restaurant (bougie for us, but mum insisted we have a treat since we never go out), and then back home on sunday :)

so yeah it's been really stressful this past year, and i feel very stuck both mentally and physically. i still live with my mum, which is fine because i love her, but i really would love my own place so i can actually fully relax and be independent. my room is also tiny and we ended up having to get me a high sleeper so my desk could fit, and the novelty wore off quick because i'm a tall almost 23 year old having to cram myself up into this bed made for 6 year olds, and i hit my head regularly on the ceiling 😭 all in all i feel drained and stuck, and the hopes i had of moving to brighton to live by myself or with friends has basically flown into the sunset. now we might be talking about moving elsewhere entirely, but i won't go into that as nothing is certain and i'm tired of false hope and promises.

if you made it this far, wow i hope i didn't depress you, here's my no man's sky character to cheer you up. she's modelled as much as possible after my mandalorian oc. i hope sincerely that you're doing well and that life isn't weighing you down too hard!! thanks for reading and i'll post some more soon, probably photography, both in game (red dead, witcher, no man's sky, and anything else i feel like sharing) and real life (performance photography and edits that i've already posted on my photography account on instagram with permission from the subjects).

have a great evening/morning/day!!

[teecupangel]

Before anything, if you haven’t read it yet, please check out the post from @fallenaj-2475 for a less bloody Desmond take on this because we’re going full serial killer for this reblog XD

From @thedragonqueen1998

Omg, love it! Serialkiller!Desmond sounds awesome! Just imagine, him staring down an Abstergo guard, while saying "You look a little lean, but i've cooked with worse." The guy would freak the ef out! 🤣 The others are probably "WTF DESMOND!", but tbh, a guy who decides to cook people is not the most mentally stable guy. XD OH! Desmond could be known as the "Butcher of New York". People find discarded body parts all over the place(Desmond knows to spread the trash over a wide and random area) and people ask Des how he's so unafraid walking home so late and he just goes "I'm not worried, nothings gonna happen to me".

You know what would be ‘fun’? If Desmond believes that there is no reason to waste any part of a ‘monster’ since the recipe does say ‘monster part’. Everything dissolves in the cauldron as long as he can make them fit and he just let the cauldron cook for hours.

Sure, his second hand electric stove was questioning his decisions each time he kept it on before going to sleep but, by the time his alarm goes off and he has to prepare for work, the cauldron was bubbling away.

No need to buy any blender or anything.

He does think it’s a bit disgusting adding hair in it so he shaves them first and throws the hair out in different parts of the city whenever he has free time.

Carrying the body became a non-issue after he just started lugging around a suitcase. No one really asks questions why Desmond has a suitcase and the other employees of Bad Weather never sees it because he hides it underneath the dumpster behind the bar.

Even if people see it there, it was fine.

He’d just get a new one (steal one, really).

It was better to… well… butcher one bad person than have to kill a lot of bad person.

He was trying to keep a low profile, after all.

But really…

He knew he was delaying the inevitable.

When the number of ‘missing’ people become too high, the annoying part of a society would start propping up.

Desmond knew he needed to start to think about how he should proceed since he was planning to keep making and using these elixirs.

Instead of a motorcycle, he was better off getting a trailer than he can use to drive around the country.

Maybe even think of a way to get enough money to leave the country altogether.

Europe was a much bigger place to drive around while Desmond does his… he wasn’t exactly a vigilante so ‘monster hunting’ side gig.

I just thought of something really gruesome.

So, was thinking of botw and totk and how you make tonics. And then thought of Des with Link’s powers. And had the thought. What if Des could make the potions from those games? But wait, that would require monster parts. And then l remembered a lovely line from BDG.

“And we all know the real monster is man. And cannibalism is frowned upon in New York.”

So if we were to say the real monsters are Templars. Well…..they’re not necessarily in New York? And the other ingredients are just things like flowers or bugs? Strength Pot Des anyone?

Cannibalism in this one XD

Desmond could have gotten some kind of ‘recipe book’ while dumpster diving.

He was just looking for stuff he could fix and use or maybe even decoration for his new small apartment.

He though the book looked alright. Didn’t have a name or anything in it and all the pages looked handwritten so he took it with him to read when he was bored.

Oh. And the small cauldron it was in looked good enough to use after some heavy scrubbing.

The first page looked weird.

It only said ‘1 monster part and 1 ~ 4 hightail lizard or hot-footed frog’

Monster part???

He thought of it as maybe just someone writing whatever they wanted, like some kind of story or something.

Until… someone tried to break inside his home.

Now, Desmond wasn’t exactly a pacifist but he was also not a pushover.

And then the thief had the gall to call Desmond’s home a shithole because it didn’t have anything worthwhile to steal and tried to stab him because he thought Desmond might have some cash on him.

During the altercation, Desmond managed to cut the thief’s hand near the kitchen where he was making frog soup using that cauldron (the frogs came from an Asian store with a sweet old lady who told him that they were ‘farm frogs’, her English wasn’t that good, and that they were good to eat in a soup)

The thief ran away, Desmond finished cooking his dinner and ate it…

Realizing he may have eaten the meat of what is absolutely not the skeleton of a frog.

Pretty sure it was a finger.

And that was the day Desmond became an accidental cannibal.

Fuck.

And because he was a slave to capitalist like everyone else, he had to go to work while trying to not freak out over eating a finger.

Maybe two.

Holy shit.

And then he wasn’t… tired at all? Like… he had to work overttime and he was still okay?

For some reason, his mind went straight to that book and about how “a monster part and 1~4 tiredless frogs” would give the drinker a boost on their stamina.

There was no way, right?

Right???

.

A month later, Desmond was mugged in some abandoned alleyway and he kicked the mugger’s ass. Unfortunately, during the altercation, Desmond plucked the mugger’s eye (heat of the moment, Desmond was trained to attack every weak point without mercy) and it was disgusting but then…

What if?

He returned home, dropped the eye in the cauldron and looked for anything he could try (not him, there’s a stray cat outside the apartment, he could just leave the soup out and they’d drink it, no harm, no foul… well, he had a human eye but that was beside the point).

There’s one that is supposed to make one faster and it needed ‘hot-footed frogs’ or ‘hightail lizards’. He went with lizards since he’d seen a few in the apartment just chilling.

He cooked the soup, went downstairs and left it by the dumpster.

He watched as the stray cat smelled it (he made sure that it was cooled before he left it) and began to lick it.

The cat’s licking began to be faster and then… it… It wasn’t like a cat that was zooming everywhere.

The cat was moving as normal.

But it was faster.

Holy shit.

Desmond just got some kind of witch brew book… that counted humans as monsters.

And… well…

There were a lot of bad people in New York and Desmond wasn’t really raised to have a rigid moral code.

[icharchivist]

not to mention Benjamin is probably the only character in gbf that has explicitly almost definitely said a slur onscreen (if it's what it looks like judging from the censor stars he can reclaim it. but still--) and not even Belial can say that--

HE DID??????

I completely forgot about that wtf :sob:

i suppose it would be some linked to mental health of the sort??? bc i GUESS he could be reclaiming those but STILL.

can't believe i have to dust out this reaction image again

Anyway yeah, when Aoidos indulge back into his past self, things get messy considering the amount of fucked up going on with Benjamin to start with. He's already a similar-to-Lobelia type of character with the whole "loving murders because of the Sounds" and stuff.

and i shall remind also that back in the type of the original band, the Vicious Three, the whole thing was them making snuff representation by hiring a wanted criminal to do their gig with them on stage and then murder them in such a way that there would be a blood shower on the crowd.

Like now that Aoidos is more stable as he joined our crew and he's not as murder happy (though he has regained his memories again and he does slip back into being a sadist when he talks with Justin and Valentin), we're still speaking about people who were doing blood showers for fun and because they loved the sounds killing people would make in addition to their music (which, again, really makes them considering Lobelia to join their bands in recent years ominous as shit)

So just. The idea of the DossSS walking this line while Lobelia AND Belial would be there to influence it could turn really easy back into "actually let's revive the Vicious Three", especially since Aoidos is just mostly not doing murders anyone because he feels loved by the crew and doesn't want us to see him badly and stuff, so idk about the idea of telling him "murder is okay!" by having him connect with those menaces.

.... That or we can hope Aoidos' recovery is enough that he has an iron will not to return to murders no matter what.

we gotta hope for the best, but yeah, this is. really the gang we want Belial to recover with......... i'm not even sure they can help themselves recover........ 😭😭

[sam-loves-seb]

part 1 | part 2

the fruity four but make it hollywood au (2/x)

thinking about makeup artist robin and stunt double steve, both young and inexperienced and new to the area, maybe 19ish, who meet on the set of their first gig--a small commercial about auto insurance where steve has to pretend to crash a car and then robin has to cover him in fake bruises and blood--and become instant friends. robin and steve who are both sleeping on couches of a friend of a friend, who barely scrap together enough money to get an apartment together but they do it.

they work odd jobs to make rent in between gigs. steve refs basketball games on the weekends. robin does face paint at children's birthday parties. it's anything but glamorous, but they wouldn't trade this life for the world. not when they're booking one commercial every three months, not when they sign on to their first tv shows, not when they walk the red carpet together at steve's first leading role movie premiere and the internet goes crazy thinking they're a couple.

they keep living together long after they can both afford their own places--"we're both on locations half the year anyways, i feel like i barely see you enough as it is"--trading in grungy one bedroom spaces for a sold, stable two bedroom apartment big enough for a kitchen and a living room, then upgrading again a few years later to a deluxe sky view tenth floor apartment big enough for a guest room.

it's paradise, living with your best friend. until your best friend gets a boyfriend and falls stupidly in love.

"Robin," steve tries to reason with her. "I'm not leaving the building--hell, i'm not even leaving our floor. I'll be two doors down!"

steve moving in with eddie munson was not on robin's bingo card, but here they are, packing boxes and saying goodbye.

"For fuck's sake," Steve groans. "It's not goodbye--I'm literally coming over tomorrow to watch Bake Off with you."

"You better be."

and so, steve moves out, moves in down the hall with eddie, and robin has to wallow in her apartment all alone for another two weeks before her next job is set to start shooting in georgia. the two weeks are fine, she can live by herself for two weeks, but it's the knowing that she's always going to be coming back to an empty apartment that kills her.

until eddie gets a brilliant idea.

"I have a friend," he tells her one night, when steve is passed out with his head on eddie's lap and it's just eddie and robin watching this week's episode of survivor. "She's been living in Paris for the last year, shooting a handful of French indie films, but she's coming back to LA next month."

Robin raises a brow. "So?"

"So..." Eddie shrugs, running his hand through Steve's hair. "She has her own place in the hills, but she usually crashes in my guest room when she's in town. She'd never admit it, but I don't think she really likes living alone--and I don't blame her. But it's hard finding real fucking friends in our lines of work."

"Eddie, what the hell is your--"

"Have you ever considered getting another roommate?"

and that is how robin finds herself living with famed child/teen actress nancy wheeler, who wears choppy bangs and dark eye makeup that definitely do not go with the family-friendly sitcom star persona she wore for almost a decade.

robin thinks she likes this nancy better, even if she does smoke cigarettes like they're going out of style.

(how eddie munson and nancy wheeler ever became friends in the first place is story for another place and time, but as robin watches nancy smile for the first time in a week when eddie comes over, she makes a mental note to find steve tomorrow and get the full story.)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | ko-fi

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Complicated freak [E. M]

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: a bit of angst, fights, exes to lovers, but with happy ending (I think?)

A/N: This song is a song that never came out by another artist, but I feel like it goes SO well with Eddie, so I used it. I hope you like it!

You heaved a sigh, still not quite convinced that you entered the bar you were in, as you made your way through the screaming, dancing, and drinking crowd. A few months had passed since the last time you had been there, but almost nothing had changed; it still smelled of weed and in the background the music of Corroded Coffin could still be heard.

Two years had already passed since the boys in the band had gone out to find their dream and you blindly followed them. The reason was very simple: you were madly in love with Eddie Munson. So you lived for two years traveling almost all over the state, sleeping where you could, and eating anything, until they ended up finding a stable job in Indianapolis. But time had complicated things and all the boyhood fantasies had been shattered, at least the ones about you and Eddie.

After all they say that nothing lasts forever, right?

You didn't plan on staying long, so you just snuck up to the front, near the stage, so you could get backstage. Although you heard the complaints of many girls, you decided to ignore them, with too many problems in your head to still argue with some groupies. Because indeed, the band was becoming famous in that sense. From your place you were still far enough away to be able to see the four boys well and a little nostalgia invaded you when you remembered when you saw them rehearse in that garage in Hawkins. That time when the only thing that mattered was playing D&D and drinking until you vomit; a happier time.

The band finished performing the Black Sabbath cover and the crowd clapped euphorically. You had never thought about how much people liked to hear the band play, maybe because for you they would never stop being your friends playing at being rock stars.

That was the last song they played at all of their gigs, so you mentally prepared yourself to walk up to Gareth and ask him for the favor you came for until you saw Eddie come out the back to get in front of the microphone and you heard all the girls go crazy.

He had on those ripped jeans you knew all too well, his big heavy black boots, a T-shirt with the name of the band whose sleeves he had messyly cut off, a black choker around his neck, and around his brown eyes there was eyeliner that had already begun to smudge from sweat. In another time you probably would have pulled him off the stage to rip his clothes off without a second thought.

"How are you today, beautiful people?" he asked in a hoarse, agitated voice. He looked so radiant and a part of you felt extremely upset. It was obvious that he was going to be fine, you didn't know why you expected to find him broken or something "We want to thank you for being such a great audience, we really love you" he exclaimed and the crowd cheered "We have one song left for you guys! This is Complicated freak!”

Eddie started playing a couple of notes on the guitar and you frowned, quite confused. The audience was very enthusiastic when it started, so you assumed it was some trending song, but suddenly you froze in place upon hearing the first line. And it wasn't the lyrics that shocked you, it was the fact that Eddie was the one singing it.

She got wrapped up in somebody else

I'm wrapped up stuck in love with myself

I never saw this coming around

But I miss her skin on me now

The beat didn't sound like anything you knew, and was even a bit strange for the kind of songs the band used to play. It was too soft, almost like it was pop.

Tip of my tongue she's pulling my hair

I do what she wants anywhere

Back seat of the car and up in the air

But I miss how she kissed everywhere

Eddie continued and you heard the screams of the women next to you, entranced by the sight of your ex-boyfriend skillfully playing the guitar and singing at the same time. He had never mentioned anything to you about knowing how to sing, but now that he was doing it you could tell that he was really good.

Everything was happening too fast, but you had paid enough attention to realize that he was talking about a girl. In the past.

I can't get you off my mind

I can't get you off my mind

I still crave it, you complicated freak

I still crave it, you complicated freak

I still crave it, complicated

Freak

The guy was practically moaning into the microphone and you were quiet, still deciding if running away was the best idea. You remembered what he called you before, the way the two of you had decided to turn that cruel term into a couple's pet name: my little freak.

That wasn't a cover, it was a song written by the band.

Turned up too late one too many times

Bad choice of words in my alibi

I guess I love crazy, out of your mind

You lost your head, so I'll give you mine

It was then that his gaze dropped to the front row audience and the first thing he noticed wasn’t the excited young women reaching out, but a figure standing still and staring at him with a frightened expression: you.

To be honest this caught him off guard, you could tell in the way his smug expression dropped a bit, but he still didn't miss the lyrics of the song. And now it was worse because he started singing with his eyes on you.

I can't get you off my mind

I can't get you off my mind

I still crave it, you complicated freak

I still crave it, you complicated freak

I still crave it, complicated

Freak

The way he was looking at you made you nervous. He watched you from above, singing words that you were almost sure had been written with you in mind. Now everything fitted together, you had never heard that song because he had written it after you had broken up.

There was a guitar solo and he saw his fingers move deftly up the neck of the guitar. You knew what those fingers were capable of, besides playing.

She got wrapped up in somebody else

He sang, a little louder, anger seeping into his voice. You felt your cheeks heat up too, but not from a blush but from anger at what he had just said and the way he had looked at you, as if it was some kind of accusation.

I'm wrapped up stuck in love with myself

He spoke and almost instantly let out a dry laugh that could be heard through the microphone. You remembered telling him that the last time you saw him. You no longer had a doubt, that fucking song was about you and only for you.

I can't get you off my mind

I can't get you off my mind

I still crave it, you complicated freak

I still crave it, you complicated freak

I still crave it, complicated

Freak

He sang the chorus again and when the music died down his gaze was still on you. He seemed as if he was hypnotized.

When he seemed to come out of his trance he smiled at the audience and blew a couple of kisses with his hands, making mock bows and walking offstage with a rather brisk step. You managed, somehow, to get past the people to get into the room they used as a dressing room, praying with all your might to God to meet some other member so you could talk. But almost as divine punishment, you collided with a person and when you looked up to apologize you noticed who it was.

"What do we have here?" he asked, his voice mocking. You knew how immature he could be when he wanted to and you feared this was one of those "Enjoying the concert?"

"Can I talk to someone in the band?" you said bluntly. Sometimes being around a lot of people made you irritable and right now you just wanted to be in that dirty motel room.

"You are doing it"

"A serious person," you corrected, under your breath. You didn't expect the meeting with Eddie to be so tense and although you knew perfectly well that it could happen, you didn't feel prepared. But the boy didn't answer anything, keeping his hands crossed on his chest and watching you with a neutral expression. Fuck, you didn't even care about his stubbornness anymore, you just wanted to finish "I need money"

"Huh, we've got a lot lying around,” he said sarcastically “How much does the lady need?"

"I need 50" you exclaimed, seeing the man open his mouth in an exaggerated way.

“How much drug do you intend to buy with that money?” he scoffed.

"I'm going back to Hawkins, Edward," you spoke, irritated enough. Apparently he didn't expect that, because the confident and mocking expression had vanished at your statement.

"What are you saying?"

“I want that money for a bus ticket. I'm going back to Hawkins,” you explained as if that wasn't clear enough. And in his expression, you could see what he would never say in words: vulnerability.

"Why?"

"If my parents have stopped hating me, I can probably live with them again and get a job in a store, or whatever," you said with a shrug. You knew you didn't owe him an explanation, but a part of you made you do it just to see the way he reacted "After all, I have nothing else to do here"

You saw how his face turned with a bit of violence to look at you properly and for the first time in the night, you saw that facade that he had built crumble. He looked hurt, but you needed to convince yourself to ignore him or you'd end up doing something stupid.

“Y/N!” said a voice from behind Eddie. It was Gareth, followed by the other two members of the group.

“Hey guys,” you replied, a little more polite than how you had greeted Eddie, as you took a couple of steps to give each of them a hug “I just came by to say goodbye.”

“To say goodbye? Where are you going?" Jeff asked, frowning and with a sad expression.

"Back home," you murmured, with a small smile.

"Hawkins?" they insisted, while you nodded "And for how long?" they sounded a little scared to ask that question, but you giggled.

"A very, very good time" you explained and none of the three said anything. They didn't know the details of what happened between you and Eddie, but they did know that you didn't end up on good terms. That's why when they heard this, they looked at their friend, as if they wanted to check that he had heard it too “And I hate to ask you, but could you lend me some money? I just need to pay for transportation, I promise I'll send you an envelope with bills when I start work”

"Sure, we can lend you whatever you need" murmured one of them, with a friendly smile. It made you sad to leave them because apart from being members of the band they were also your friends.

“You played great, by the way. I haven't come to listen to you in a long time” you flattered them. Although you couldn't see it, Eddie was red with jealousy behind you. When he saw you in the crowd a part of him wished you were there because you missed him. Could he even want that after what he had done to you? He didn't know, but not admitting that he was wrong was more a matter of pride than being right "I liked the last song"

“I wrote it myself,” Eddie interjected, stepping forward so you could see him.

"Adventures with groupies bring good inspiration, huh?" you laughed, knowing you'd hit a nerve. You wanted him to admit that it was for you, just for the sheer satisfaction of winning. But he, just as stubborn as you, only laughed bitterly.

Jeff wanted to fix the situation a bit by asking you to accompany him so he could give you the money and once you had it, you went back out so you could say goodbye to the boys.

And of course, Eddie was gone.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asked, incredulously. You'd had another fight, maybe the third in the week, and decided enough was enough. For that reason, you were putting your things in the old suitcase which you had carried during those years.

“Didn't you hear me or are you just stupid? I'm out of here” you answered, without looking at him. Eddie reached out to grip your wrist tightly, the rings on his fingers feeling cold against your skin.

“Are you really going to take your tantrum that far?”

"Tantrum?!" you asked, jerking out of his grasp and looking into his eyes, “So this is my fault? Am I a tantrum girl?

“Well, it seems so! I don't even understand why we're fighting” he said, raising both hands as if he really didn't understand what was happening. You dropped the clothes you had on the floor in frustration.

"You do not get it? It is clear that this is no longer working, we are no longer working!” you sobbed. At that point it was useless to contain the crying that was already imminent from the beginning “When was the last time we really spent time together? Not with the band or with your fans or drinking in the bars. Time for us” you exclaimed, looking at him through tears “You don't even look at me, you don't even care how I feel. The other day I was crying in the bathroom and you didn't even notice. Every day I ask myself what am I doing wrong to not even hear you say you love me. You don't even answer me out of commitment when I tell you to," you murmured, tears cutting through your voice from time to time. "We have sex and then you start smoking a cigarette as if I didn't exist and then you go to sleep. You used to be so different, Eddie. When we were in Hawkins all that mattered was us and now it seems that on a scale of importance this relationship is left until the end. You're just in love with yourself.” You were silent for a second, just to give him a chance to say something. But he was quiet too “And I'm not going to put up with this anymore. I cannot”

You continued to put your clothes in the suitcase and while you were doing it you expected anything from him. For him to stop you, for him to yell at you, maybe even apologize for how he made you feel. But he didn't do anything, he just stood in front of you while he watched you pack. When you finished you looked at it; he was expressionless

“Take money from the can if you need it”

"You're a bastard, Edward Munson," you sobbed, opening your shared room and slamming the door out of there. 

A knock resounding on the door woke you up from your nightmare. It was perhaps the fifth time that you had relived the memory, between dreams, and it was just as hurtful as the first time.

It had been three days since you had seen Corroded Coffin and you still hadn't finished packing your belongings. Perhaps it was a lack of time, energy, or simply the courage to do it. You heard the knock on the door again and frowned as you sat on your bed. It wasn't the right time to receive visitors and you just hoped that a lunatic hadn't sneaked into that seedy place you inhabited.

“Y/N?” they called from outside. Although the voice sounded hoarser, you were able to perfectly identify who it belonged to. You didn't know what Eddie Munson could do in the wee hours, knocking on your door, but you had no plans to find out either. He was probably just drunk and wanted to upset you, but you weren't going to let him give you another headache. You lay back down on your bed, thankful that all the lights were off and he couldn't see you through the curtains, until you heard something that caught your attention; crying “You're stupid, Eddie. So, so, so stupid,” he sobbed, behind your door, as you heard his head hit the wood with a thud. You hesitated for a while, because you didn't want to let him manipulate you, but you weren't so inhuman as to listen to him cry and not go out to check that he was okay.

"Eddie?" you asked, opening the door and seeing his body fall slightly inside. He looked up at you from below and his face lit up.

“Y/N…” he mumbled, his voice meek, as he quickly got to his feet. He smelled of alcohol and his eyes looked swollen, but what caught your attention the most was the trickle of blood that was dripping from his hand.

"Eddie, for God's sake, what happened to you?" you murmured worriedly, turning on the light and noticing that it was a considerable cut.

"You haven't left yet," he said as if he was the only thing that mattered to him. You took him by the hand that wasn't injured to get him into the room and then you ran in search of the poor first aid kit that was under the sink. It was just hydrogen peroxide, adhesive band-aids, and a couple of bandages.

"Give me your hand," you demanded, sitting down next to him on the bed. The boy had smeared the floor with drops of blood, but you weren't too interested, you were more concerned with giving the wound some attention. He had probably cut himself on a piece of glass or something, since it wasn't that deep a cut, just very scandalous.

"Forgive me," he murmured suddenly. You tensed in place and your hand trembled a little just as you finished wrapping the bandage.

"Okay, I don't think it's the first weird stain on the floor."

"I'm not talking about the floor, I'm talking about us" he insisted, as if he was angry because you wanted to avoid the subject "Forgive me for what I did, it's just that..." his words were interrupted by a sob that he couldn't control “Y/N I've been so miserable these past few months. Every day I think about how much I miss you and I… shit, even now I'm sounding so selfish” he whispered. You knew Eddie like the back of your hand and you knew he was struggling to find what to say “You were right about me, about how I neglected you. About what an idiot I was about our relationship. I was so consumed by the idea of ​​fame, by drugs, by alcohol that I just forgot about you. And I'm sorry from the bottom of my heart because you don't deserve to be with someone who treats you that way. You have always supported us, you have loved me without condition and I have been a bad boyfriend. And I miss you so much and I miss everything that I sang that I missed about you. Because that song is for you, Y/N. Because I can't get you out of my mind, because I keep longing to have a love that I managed to lose and that I don't know if I can get back. I was so angry for some reason that I thought it best to let you go. I thought you'd come back after a few days and we could work things out, but you didn't. And the other day when I saw you there, in the audience, I realized that you are the only person I love. But then you said you were leaving and I felt so hurt to think that you don't even care about me anymore. Then I understood how I made you feel and that plunged me into a pit of misery. I hurt you, my love. And I feel so bad about it and I don't know how I can fix it. So I did the only thing I know how to deal with my problems and I drank and drank until I thought of looking for you. But I was afraid that you were already gone and I… Y/N I don't want to lose you, even though I know I deserve it. I'm not in a position to ask you, but I just want you to forgive me. You are my reason for existing and I don't know how I could have been such an idiot to forget it” he said and then burst into tears.

He was very drunk, but you knew he wasn't lying. And yes, you knew he screwed up, you knew he should have offered you that apology long ago, and you also knew he shouldn't have treated you like that when you asked for bus money. But you weren't going to spend your whole life hating him. Not when he had walked to your bedroom door to tell you everything he had just said.

"Eddie," you whispered, reaching out your hands in his direction as his crying intensified. He got the message and he didn't hesitate a second before he fell against you, burying his face in your neck and staining your shoulder with tears.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…” he insisted. You didn't know as you got a little closer and started stroking his back.

You had never been a person who believed in second chances. For you, once someone showed what he was capable of, there was no turning back. But you found that just like with everything else, things were different when it came to Eddie.

You didn't have the heart or the willpower to tell him you wouldn't forgive him. Besides, you had been dating for years and he had never behaved that way. He was always considerate and loving, even in the months before your problems with him started. Maybe it was just one of those potholes couples go through; a bit of rain after a streak of sunny days.

But knowing that wasn't going to stop you from telling him how he had made you feel.

"You left me completely aside" you exclaimed, close to his ear, without it being heard as a claim.

"I know," he replied, his voice muffled by the fabric of your shirt.

“That broke my heart, did you know that?” you whispered and Eddie nodded, still refusing to let go of your chest.

“And I want to fix it. Let me fix it, I know if I work hard I can do it” you heard him sob, feeling his hands wrap around you as if you were his only connection to the real world.

His pleading tone was tearing at your chest and suddenly you started crying too. The truth was, you never imagined a future without him, even after the way he had hurt you. That's probably why you hadn't even left Hawkins, because deep down you wanted Eddie to come looking for you just like he had done.

You didn't say anything else, you just let him cry over you and you cried with him too. You felt as if crying could somehow wash away the resentments and pain that had existed in you.

"What happened to your hand?" you asked after a while, while holding him gently, but Eddie didn't move away from you even a bit when answering.

“I probably cut myself on a glass or a bottle. I don't remember,” he said, still sounding sad. You kept your hand under his and continued to hold him in silence, feeling his hair brush against your nose. He smelled like your shampoo, one that you had probably left behind by accident.

"I'm tired" you exclaimed with fear of breaking the peace of the moment "I think I need to sleep" you added. Eddie finally pulled away and looked you in the eye.

"It's okay. I’ll go"

"I didn't say you to leave," you murmured, keeping a neutral expression. "I just said I want to sleep”

Eddie seemed to get the idea when you tossed a pillow across the bed and lay back, so he kicked off his shoes and looked at you as he'd started to undo his belt.

"Can I…?" he asked fearfully. You had seen him naked hundreds of times and whenever you slept together, he slept in his underwear, but now he didn't want to bother you. You nodded silently and he took off his pants, but he kept his shirt on, while he hurriedly threw himself on the bed with you. There was barely room for both of them and you felt Eddie's body tense from the closeness as if he was afraid that moving would make you uncomfortable or upset.

“Tomorrow we will talk about this. When you're soberer and I'm more awake, okay?" you whispered in the dark.

"Yes," he replied, just as short as you. Both of you were looking at the ceiling, to avoid looking at each other, like so many nights you had. You knew that this would be a turning point in your relationship and you were willing to forgive the boy as long as he showed you that he was really going to change his attitude about you.

For a second you felt like you were back in Eddie's trailer; a couple of awkward and fearful teenagers sharing a bed for the first time.

“My luggage is already packed” you broke the silence. His chest ached a little to think that despite everything you would still leave. Perhaps, as he himself had said, he deserved it. "But I'd rather stay here a little longer before I go back to you and the band," you continued and he exhaled with relief as he realized your plans were different.

“Okay, take all the time you need,” he murmured, turning in a weak moment so he could look at you. The only thing he needed was to be certain that he still had a chance to make amends and above all to know that you would not walk out of his life just like that. Although in the hypothetical case that you had gone to Hawkins, he would have been able to leave the band and come looking for you “I love you. And again I'm sorry I led you into thinking it wasn't so,” he said, his voice soft. He didn't expect much and he knew that you had the right to ignore him if you wanted to, but he needed to work hard to be good for you. That included telling you how he felt.

To Eddie's surprise, you got up from where you were and leaned towards him to place a kiss on his lips that completely melted him. He hadn't kissed you in months and even that light caress managed to make him let out a shaky breath. The contact didn't last long, just long enough for him to know that you still loved him too.

"Rest, Ed" you exclaimed and his chest swelled with joy to see that you called him affectionately again and not by his full name. Almost immediately you fell asleep, while the boy joined you minutes later.

When you woke up you were still in the same position, but with the difference that there was a hand holding yours with care and love.

And that's how you planned for you to get ahead: together, hand in hand, as you always had.

TAG LIST: @sweetdayme4427 @smol-book-nerd

[hacash]

season 3 predictions

(all of which are likely to be made completely redundant by 2x12 but HEY HO LET’S GO)

Sam. I think the opportunity offered to him by Edwin is too great to pass up but I just can’t imagine the show and the Richmond team without Toheeb Jimoh. Given that the writers have said they’ve planned these arcs in advance I don’t think he’d be written out for the sake of a new acting gig. Therefore because I’m selfish and desperately hoping he stars in season 3 (and could hardly pop back as a recurring character while on Edwin’s team) I could see him doing a Leslie Knope from Parks and Rec: ‘I want to leave Richmond better than when I joined it’. After what I hope will be a promotion for the team I could potentially see him asking Edwin for a year’s grace to help Richmond win the Premier League, and then he’ll happily take him up on his offer.

I’m also hoping like hell that this would be the push Rebecca needs to see there’s not going to be a future in the relationship with Sam. It’s interesting that although Bill Lawrence has openly agreed that the employee/age difference is concerning, there’s been little acknowledgement of that in the show, so I wonder if there’s going to be fallout in episode 12 in some fashion. Regardless, I think it’s time to say goodbye to Sambecca.

Keeley and Roy. I am firmly of the opinion that they ain’t breaking up any time soon. There’s no way in hell Roy has knelt down in front of Keeley so many times without it meaning something, so I am certain that next season will be the planning of the Kent-Jones wedding. 

I also have a sneaking suspicion that Keeley might end up being the next opening-shot of the season. After episode after episode of her working as Roy/Rebecca/Jamie’s emotional support, we got a tantalising glimpse into her psyche last episode: both with her uncertainties around being featured in Vanity Fair and her ambitions being shaped by her mother’s history. I love Keeley but quite frankly we haven’t had enough of her as plot - I really think/hope she might come to the fore next season.

Nate. I fully believe there’s no way in hell Nate will still be working at Richmond come the end of the season, though I can imagine him walking away in a fit of pique rather than Rebecca firing him. (Frankly, I can’t see Ted letting Rebecca do that.) I think he’ll end up joining another team - possibly with or without Darth Mannion’s help - and, although a lot of people here want this to be a devastatingly humiliating/humbling experience for Nate, I’d love to see this as an opportunity for him to genuinely grow outside the confines of Richmond (which forms way too much of his identity - and let’s be honest, can’t always hold good memories for Nate when he was literally asking his teammates not to physically harass him on a daily basis). I can definitely see someone - HigginsHigginsHiggins - giving him Sharon’s number to call before he leaves, and I like the idea that in the season break Nate could be dealing with some of his issues and returning to the Nate the Great we know and love.

However, I then think Nate will somehow end up back at Richmond. While you could argue that it would be better for Nate to make a clean break, it would honestly be a waste of Nick Mohammed’s bloody sterling acting talents to keep him away from Nelson Road for too long in season 3. I have no idea how a redemption arc here might look, but it would have to be good, and if there’s forgiveness to be offered, it should take more than the space of an episode - although I hope they don’t stretch it out too long. Rebecca and Jamie were forgiven relatively quickly; it would be a shame and a bad look if Nate’s own forgiveness journey was too disproportionately drawn out.

I’d also love to see Jamie, Colin and Isaac apologise for their season 1 bullying of Nate. Much as the bullying Nate suffered doesn’t excuse his shoddy behaviour, Nate’s own bullshit doesn’t excuse what our beloved trio pulled in season 1 - and crucially, we never saw them apologise to Nate or try to make amends. I really love apology scenes and I’d love to see Nate with some friends beyond Ted and Keeley - and that li’l scene in the Liverpool karaoke bar with Isaac, Colin and Nate doing shots together means I want more of this friendship.

Some sort of Jamie/Nate commiseration over shit dads and over-compensating for the emotional wounds they give us? Please?

More Higgins. In many ways Higgins is the emotional rock for our beloved Richmond: he’s the only one not suffering from some sort of untold trauma or struggles, and is able to live with a relationship with an imperfect father and yet be a fantastic father himself. I’d love to see a storyline where Higgins isn’t on the periphery but straight in the heart of the action, potentially adopting a Richmond boy or two along the way. 

By saying this, I mean Jamie. If we get a scene where Jamie is invited around to the Higginses for Sunday lunch I will cry. Much like Nate needs space apart from Richmond to grow and heal, Jamie needs close relationships with people who aren’t Keeley for security - mature familial relationships, and quite frankly the Higginses are the stable family dynamic Jamie needs right now. 

Why the fuck does Colin feel the need to remind himself he is not a piece of shit? Enquiring minds need to know. We’ve had episode storylines that focus on Dani, Sam, Jamie and Isaac; I just want one with Colin where I’m not emotionally devastated by the end of it, thank you Headspace.

This isn’t so much a prediction as a plea, but an entire episode where the Richmond boys are the focus. A night out in Richmond, that long-promised pillow fight, them finally taking Colin to go clothes shopping for something that isn’t a  button-up polo shirt - I honestly don’t care, I just need as much of their antics as Apple TV allows.

On a slightly more realistic note, the Himbos Greyhounds content rose significantly from season 1 to season 2, so I can see the writers carrying on with that arc. 

Ted. Fuck knows. At this point I can’t trust myself to predict Ted’s actions - I do think Nate’s going to be leaving Richmond, and so I can’t see Ted leaving as well. It would be amazing if Ted used the dubiously-written expose (c’mon Trent, you couldn’t have given Ted a head’s up or asked for a quote before the article was put online? forget dubious journalism ethics that just...seems inefficient not to approach him for a comment while you were writing the piece) as an excuse to talk more about mental health in sport. I definitely think episode 12 is going to have Richmond rally around Ted, and so I do hope the article isn’t going to drive Ted further into hiding and that he’ll be at Richmond by the time season 3 comes around.

Ted and Rebecca. I can’t have been the only one that caught that little look by Ted when Rebecca left his office in 2x11, right? Certainly the show has set up a whopper of a truth bomb for season 3, when there’s another heart to heart in Ted’s office, and though it could be anything, my little shipper heart is screaming  some sort of romantic confession of love. I don’t know, it just feels like there is a...a something between Ted and Rebecca that’s going to happen in 2x12, and I can’t help but think it’s going to lay the foundations for whatever happens in season 3 big time.

[jawritter]

Where The Green Grass Grows

Chapter 1

Summary: Life changes, nothing ever stays the same. With most change comes with some degree of pain, that’s how we grow.

Jensen thought he had his whole life planned out, written for him in the bright lights of Hollywood. One failed marriage later, and a lifetime of lessons learned, lead him home to a place he thought he’d left behind him when he was only a teenager.

He thought his life was over. He felt like he’d lost everything, but who knew one little trip to the local diner that had just opened up outside of town would turn his whole world upside down. All because he met you. Maybe a little slower pace of life isn’t such a bad idea after all…

Warnings:  Language, Angst, mention of past OC character death, mention of grief, dealing with a divorce. Drinking. I think that's about it for this chapter.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 2550

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics​

A/N: This fic is unbeta’d and all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! I hope you all enjoy this one! Feedback is golden! This series is complete on patreon.

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“Mr. Ackles! Good morning!” Alex, Jensen's longtime agent, said as he took his seat at the big oak desk in front of Jensen.  

“Alex,” Jensen said, giving the man a tight smile as he watched him shuffle through the pile of paperwork on his desk. Jensen had been in the entertainment industry since he was a young boy in one sense or another. He was no idiot, and he knew the reason he was called into his agents office for the first time in almost 15 years wasn’t a good thing, and he knew just what it was about. 

“I’m glad you could come in to see us on such short notice, Mr. Ackles. I’m sure you’re a busy man, and I’m not going to take up much of your time.”

Alex folded his hands in front of him, and Jensen couldn’t help but feel like the kid that had been sent to the principal's office for doing something stupid in class. The only difference was this time he wasn’t a kid, and this wasn’t a school. He was in his fucking forties, and this was his job. He hadn’t even done anything wrong! 

“I’m sure you already suspect the reason I called you here Jensen,” Alex said, dropping all formality that was there just a moment ago.  “Your recent divorce has affected you, and I don’t mean that in an offensive way!” Alex said as Jensen rolled his eyes. He knew that’s what this was all about. 

His divorce with Danneel had been a very public one. There were children involved, and of course a substantial amount of property. What divorce has ever gone smoothly or quietly in Hollywood? None that he’d ever seen, and they were overall civil for the public eye? So what was the problem?

“Cut the shit, Alex!” Jensen said, barely holding his temper in check. He could feel his blood pressure rising in his seat. Why did people have to be so damn judgemental? “What the fuck is this really all about?” 

Alex took a deep breath, and set back in defeat against his dark leather chair, and looked at Jensen almost as if he pitied him, and damn if that didn’t just suck worse than the wishy-washy shit. 

“Look, Jensen, since your divorce you haven’t been as on your game as you were. You’re showing up late to set. You have been drinking more, I can tell it by the color of your fucking skin man. You’re exhausted. No one expected you to jump back to work before the ink even dried on the divorce papers, and the company thinks it might be time to take a little break, get yourself back together, and figure shit out before you try and take on another roll.”

Alex fell quiet as Jensen set there with his hands buried in his hair, no longer looking at him. Alex did not want to do this to Jensen, he really didn’t. It was the guys that were higher up than he was. 

Sure they weren’t exactly wrong, he could see it in the actor’s eyes how tired he was, and how much strain he was under. He didn’t want another nervous breakdown under his belt like Charlie Sheen that had almost turned into an incurable disaster. Jensen had a stable following, and a break wasn’t going to hurt his career. If nothing else it may help it. 

“Go back to Texas for a while Jensen, get away from all this shit here in California, go have a damn beer out in the country for fucks sake. Focus on you! Gigs will still be here. You need to take care of yourself man.”

Jensen nodded slowly before finally looking up to meet Alex’s now concerned gaze. 

Jensen knew deep down he’d been slipping, but he didn’t think it was bad enough to warrant a forced vacation. If it really was that bad, he knew he needed to take a step back from the public eye until he could get his shit together before it did hurt his career. He’d seen much bigger actors than him fall because of shit they did while going through tough shit like this, and he didn’t work all his life to lose everything. 

“Okay… Fine… I’ll go home for a while,” Jensen said, huffing in defeat, rubbing his hand along the beard that was now covering his jawline as he focused on a random spot on the building just outside the window. Completely done with this conversation. 

Alex breathed a visible sigh of relief and flopped back into his chair. His eyes still on the man in front of him. He couldn’t imagine what was going on in Jensen’s head right now, but whatever it was, he knew he wasn’t in the sharing mood. 

“I’ll let the big guys upstairs know, take as long as you need,” Alex said, getting up from his desk and extending his hand for Jensen to shake. Jensen looked at it like it personally offended his mother, but shook it all the same. He didn’t want to piss people off to the point he’d need to find a new agency to represent him, but man, did he want to tell everyone in this building to go fuck themselves. 

It really didn’t sink in that he was going home until Jensen sat down at his computer at home with a glass of bourbon in his hand, looking at plane tickets back to Dallas. He hadn’t told his dad he was coming, and he knew his family would welcome him back with open arms, but it was his own mental struggle that kept him from hitting the pay now button on the screen.

Sure, Alex said that he could come back whenever he was ready, but the truth was he didn’t know when or if ever he’d be ready again. 

He felt like going back to Texas was admitting defeat. When he’d shown up in California all those years ago, he’d struggled his way into Hollywood. No one had given him an exactly warm welcome, and it didn’t come without some damn near misses and shit that almost sent him back before his time. 

Now, after all that. Several decade’s worths of struggling, and clawing his way to where he was today, he was going home. It left more than a little bitter taste in his mouth, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

The agency wasn’t going to get him another job until he took a break, and sure he needed one, but he didn’t want to take one. On the other hand, if he didn’t take one, then he’d surely destroy his career because he was in no shape to be in the public eye. 

There was no going back to Austin. He couldn’t live in the same town as her, that’s why he’d run off to California. If he was going back to Texas it was going to have to be Dallas. No matter how much he didn’t want to. 

It wasn’t that he was afraid someone would make fun of him, or the locals would talk about him. He was loaded, and successful. He wasn’t concerned about their opinions. It was his own pride he was struggling with, not theirs. He had lost his wife and children, now he was losing his career, and he just didn’t feel like this shitshow could get any worse. 

“Who says you can’t go home,” Jensen said with a dark chuckle as he booked his ticket, and stared at the departure time. 5:00 A.M. tomorrow. That only gave him a few hours to pack, but then again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to even take any of this shit with him.

“Order up!” you hear James call from the other side of the counter where the kitchen was separated from the bar by a large whole that took up most of the inner wall, much like a lot of older dinner kitchens did in the ’50s and ’60s. 

You throw the rag you’d been wiping the bar down with in the laundry hamper that was hidden safely under the counter from the view of the customers and grabbed the tray of burgers and fries, bringing them over to the young couple that was sitting at the very back of the restaurant. They were the only customers left in the place, and it was obviously their first date.

You could tell it in the way the girl nervously played with the hem of her dress, while the young man did all he could to hold a conversation with her. It was evident that in the light blush that covered her cheeks she had feelings for the boy, and judging by the way he was gushing over her, his feelings went pretty deep too. 

“Here you go guys, if you need anything else I’ll just be right over there,” you tell them with a smile. They thanked you, and you returned to your place behind the counter. You sighed deeply as you started to count down the register that was used earlier that day. Once this young couple was done, then it was time to get out of here. You were more than ready to get these shoes off your feet and sink neck-deep in a bath as hot as you could stand it in order to relieve some of the day's tension that was still evident in your back and legs from standing on your feet all day.

As you counted down the money in front of you, your eyes kept drifting over to the young couple sitting at the back table. You remember when Eric had taken you on your first date. It was at a restaurant much like this one. Then the night before you got married, he brought you back to the place where it all started. He was deployed to Iraq for another tour just three weeks after your wedding and returned in a flag-draped casket a year later.

It was one of the hardest paths you ever had to walk in your life. You were young, had little to no family, and Eric was your world, your whole life, and it seemed like so suddenly it was ripped violently away from you.

You swallowed hard and tried to remember to continue to count the money, crewing on your lower lip in concentration. 

It had been three years since Eric’s funeral, and you still hadn’t moved on. Sure, there had been prospects. You were still young, only 30, and you were single in a relatively small town outside of the greater city of Dallas. So it was no secret that you were not with anyone. You knew you should find someone and try to settle down again, but you just didn’t feel the same way Eric made you feel about anyone that had approached you so far. He was your first love. There was a whole there now, that you didn’t think would ever mend.

Seeing that young couple that looked so happy and so in love brought up a whole lot of feelings that you wished like hell you could bury because they still hurt. 

“Hey you, stop staring at the customers,” Jessica said, leaning against the counter with a smirk on her face. 

You give her your best bitch face and go back to putting the money bag in the safe under the counter. “I’m just making sure the customers don’t need anything.”

“Liar,” she said simply. “You know it’s been three years, Y/N.”

You looked up at her and sighed deeply as your eyes trained back to the young couple that were laughing together. 

“I know Jessica. I’ve thought about it. No one just… I don’t know, makes me feel the way Eric did.”

Jessica gave you a sympathetic look and threw her arm around your shoulder. She was working here with you when this place opened up right after you and Eric got married. She had been your friend ever since, and she was there with you through the grieving process, and she still kept a close eye on you all these years later.

“You know I’m only telling you this because I love you as a friend right?” she asked you, and you just stared at her. Afraid of what was about to come out of her mouth. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d tried to play matchmaker, and you didn’t know if you could go through that again.

“The reason you can’t find someone is because you're still holding on to him, Y/N. You have to let him go, let him rest!”

Your hand slipped up to the small silver locket that you kept around your neck. Eric had given it to you right before he left for your last deployment, and you never took it off. You knew she was right. You were still acting like you were a married woman. If you were ever going to move on, you were going to have to let him go.

“I know you’re right, but I don’t know how,” you tell her in earnest, as the young couple throws some money down on the table, and gathers up their coats to leave, waving at the two of you as they went. 

“I’ll tell you what, tonight after we finish up, we’re going to head down to the graveyard, and you're gonna tell him goodbye for real, and bury that locket, and let him go. Then I want you to move on!! You're so young, you deserve to be happy, Eric would want you to be happy.”

“I he would,” you tell her. Letting go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding, and wiping the stray tear away that fell down your face before you nod and agree to go.

It wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, but after you got off work, Jessica got in her car and followed you to the graveyard. You did just like she said to do. You told him goodbye and took the Locket with a spoon you’d grabbed from the diner that they were going to throw away, and dug a small hole, burying the locket, and a part of your heart forever. 

When you got home to your small house and got in the shower to wash away the day, deciding to forgo the bath because it was so late, and you were exhausted, you felt a little more at peace than you had in years. Even though there would always be a part of you that missed Eric. You hoped this time that you could let him go enough to finally move on.

You wanted what that couple had tonight, you wanted a friend and a companion. Maybe now you could start to let yourself be happy again. At least the weight that you had been carrying for three years felt just a little lighter, and you closed your eyes that night in hopes that tomorrow was going to be the start of a better way of life for you.

You never know, maybe Mr. Right will just walk right in the diner tomorrow. Then again, would you ever be that lucky?

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[vanderlindemangofarm]

The Van der Linde Gang - Jobs in a Modern AU

I’ve been really inspired to write about this lately and I’d love to hear your takes! These are the occupations that I think each gang member would have in a modern AU. Some were more challenging than others, but hopefully you guys can see where I’m coming from with each! 

Arthur: Film location scout. His natural eye for photography and framing makes Arthur the perfect member of a pre-production team. His no-bullshit approach to everything means he keeps to deadlines, although he’s known to go wandering off into the wilderness for unknown amounts of time. He enjoys the lone working side of his job and finding exactly the right spots that would make the film come to life. He doesn’t always like the films once they’re finished (in fact he’s often bought cinema tickets and walked out half way through, grumbling that it wasn’t worth the popcorn) but he can’t deny the excited buzz he gets every time he gets hired. In his early years as an assistant he met Bertie Mason, a nervous but talented photography intern. Despite an ill-advised hookup after a week joined at the hip they have remained close friends and still go out on shoots together. 

John: landscape gardener. John? Flowers? Yes, alright, I found it hard to believe too. But look, it’s not about the flowers, even if he does get misty-eyed at the sight of a sunflower in the early morning light. It’s about the challenge, the outdoors, and solving problems. After all the renovations he did to his house and garden (some more successful than others) John found how much satisfaction he got from digging and reshaping and planting. Don’t get me wrong, he’s often without a shirt, even in the colder months, much to the delight of some and the horror of others. He always makes friends with the household pets and is wonderful with the kids, always dropping his task to throw a frisbee around for a bit or cheekily accept an ice cold glass of lemonade from their mothers. Whenever he drives past one of his projects he feels himself glowing with pride - “I did that!”. 

Dutch: philosophy lecturer. As always, late with Starbucks. Will he actually grade your essay? Will it mysteriously disappear? Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it? Sitting precariously on the very edge of his desk, leather jacket hanging off his shoulders and losing his balance every 15 minutes, Dr Van der Linde is nothing short of a wonder. For the love of all that is holy, do not get him started on Kant. Kant has no place here. You want to talk about your precious Kant? Get your butt down to Dr O’Driscoll’s class, he has plenty to say about Kant. Perhaps a little too fond of Socrates. Plato who? Completely illegible handwriting and definitely sleeping with several members of the faculty. But somehow his students always walk away with excellent grades. At the end of each term Dutch takes everyone out to a local bar for drinks, insists on buying tequila which no one really fancies at 11am. Claims to ride a motorcycle called The Count which no one has actually seen. Impossible to hate, and he writes everyone great references for their summer internships. 

Hosea: social worker. In a crisis, there’s no one better to knock on your door. Hosea has seen it all and he’ll see it all again, but that doesn’t stop him from treating every single case he gets with the upmost respect and care. His no-nonsense approach to his work means he gets things done, but he never sacrifices his compassion. He mostly works with teenagers and has a way of being able to connect to each individual without coming across as patronising. He’s been in the field for over two decades and is an invaluable mentor for any newcomers, always willing to share a word or two of advice or be a shoulder to cry on. 

Javier: guitar teacher and music therapist. During his worst years, Javier’s guitar was his lifeline. And he wants to help others find their lifeline, too. He works on a freelance basis, mainly going into mental health hospitals, schools and prisons. He runs workshops focusing on guitar playing, but brings other instruments (mainly percussion) to try too. He’s a gentle teacher, always with a joke in his back pocket for when you need it most. He has nicknames for everyone and remembers everything they’ve ever told him. He’s patient and never lets anyone feel bad for making a mistake. Javier also runs an after-school guitar club at the local middle school alongside playing his own music at gigs whenever he can. No, he doesn’t reply to DMs no matter how thirsty they are. 

Sadie: self-defense instructor. After surviving an attack several years ago, Sadie used her ferocity to get her qualification in self-defense to teach other women how to fight back should they need to. Her husband Jake helps out in her classes, happily allowing himself to be thrown around and slammed onto the mat as many times as required. Her students are terrified of her in the best and nicest way. Sadie also volunteers at a women’s refuge, providing emergency care and taking phone calls. 

Charles: environmental campaign manager. Charles has always been drawn to charities and started doing voluntary work for Greenpeace when he was at university, securing an internship with them in Canada which led to a full time job. Whilst Charles mainly hosts meetings and organises events, he also works closely with elementary schools and runs workshops with outdoor activities, crafts and music. Last week they made bird feeders! It was awesome. He’s also a keen activist and regularly meets up with Javier to go to protests and community events, most recently for BLM. 

Micah: motorcycle mechanic. Micah is massively invested in motorcycle culture and treats his beloved bike better than his own mother, if he still spoke to her. Although he pretends not to care, fixing bikes is his greatest passion and almost looks...happy when he’s doing it? Maybe? He likes knowing more than the people who stop by his shop and makes sure they know it. Occasionally he leaves his number on a scrap of paper inside women’s handbags when they’re not looking but for some reason none of them call. Like it or not, he’s incredibly skilled and will have your motorcycle singing a tune if that’s what you want. Euphemism? Of course not. 

Abigail: nurse. She was so shy when she realised she wanted to pursue nursing - would people laugh at her? Was she too impatient, too nagging, too shrill? Her dyslexia always put her off going into further education and she was always discouraged by her parents. But with lots of encouragement from Hosea (who helped her to fill out her applications and other forms) and her friends, Abigail went to university in her 30′s to get her degree. She graduated top of her class and now works full time in her local hospital, based mostly in the emergency room. From drunken brawlers to tearful children and grumpy old men with lumbago, Abigail has learnt to keep her cool and to have faith in her own ability. 

Molly: holistic therapist and masseuse. It took years to get that bastard of a philosopher out of her head (and out of her bed - damn those happy hour drinks “for old times’ sake”), but she’s finally free. Molly radiates a kindness that few took to the time to see, and she wanted to take strength from her past struggles to help others who may need someone to listen, just as she did. Molly took a bunch of online courses in various holistic therapies, including aromatherapy and massage, as this was something she had always been interested in. She runs a tiny clinic on a quiet street, the rooms filled with sunshine and the scent of geraniums. She also has a quite popular ASMR YouTube channel, Emerald Eyes ASMR, which she shyly admits just reached 500k subscribers. Her most popular video, ‘Irish Girl Helps You Fall Asleep (soft spoken, tapping, mouth sounds)’ just reached over a million hits. 

Kieran: veterinarian specialising in equine care. Much like Abigail, Kieran didn’t like the idea of going back into education. He’d had a rough time of it as a teenager, dropping out of high school early and working a string of menial jobs for the next decade. They paid his rent, but he still felt poor. His favourite job, however, was working at a stable. The horses made him feel calm and he found that he could read them better than most people. He went to the library and read as much as he could about them. From there, he got himself an apprenticeship which paved the way for him to earn his degree in veterinary science. He smiled so hard in his graduation photo his eyes disappeared into his cheeks. He travels all over the local countryside, visiting farms and ranches to care for the horses. His confidence picked up after the first few blunders, and little by little he’s saving up to buy his own ranch one day. 

Lenny: political science student. You know that kid who always looks amazing, even in 9am lectures? Yeah, that’s not Lenny, but he’s sat just behind. See him? Yep, the one rubbing sleep from his eyes as he pushes through the effects of another all-nighter. It’s not due to procrastination, but from perfectionism. He spends hour agonising over references, appendixes and even titles. One time he was so tired he signed his work “Ynnel”. He’s completely in love with his course and relishes every class he takes. Oh, he’s taking Dutch’s ‘History of Western Philosophy’ module by the way. Sitting in the front row, middle seat, directly in front of Dutch, his eyes glinting wickedly. Poor Dutch. Lenny has a counterpoint for absolutely everything and can barely stifle his laughter as Dutch gets more and more flustered. He’s been dating Jenny Kirk, an English Lit student, for the past few months and it’s going well. So well in fact, that he might stop hiding his Doctor Who merchandise every time she comes to his dorm room. 

Tilly: business student. Tilly started university at the same time as Lenny and they still always go to the library together, rolling their eyes at each other over their morning peppermint lattes. Tilly is at the forefront of any and all on-campus activism. Think of Sam from Dear White People - that’s our Tilly. She wears her Ravenclaw scarf all autumn and winter long and posts scathing Instagram stories about the cafeteria food. But she’s powerfully kind and very ambitious, taking on a part time job tutoring kids with dyslexia in their reading and writing. 

Susan: midwife. Think having a baby is scary? Try crossing Nurse Grimshaw. She’s here now, and that baby is coming out of you one way or another. She’ll hold your hand through thick and thin but if you dare say “I can’t do it” one more time she’ll unleash hell. Susan will make sure everyone has a job to do. Partner just standing there like a lemon? Not on her watch. She’s harsh but kind to her trainees and will always offer a cup of coffee and a shoulder to cry on, but there’s a time and place for slacking and it’s not on her labour ward. 

Trelawny: talent agent. Our Josiah is cunning, infuriatingly charismatic and with an eye for the best of the best - what else could he do so effortlessly? He’ll wrangle you a 10 second role as a latrine cleaner in a non-profit film and he’ll still make you feel like the next DiCaprio. You’re a diamond, don’t you know? Of course you could nab Elphaba, we’ll worry about the singing later. How do you feel about cat food commercials? No no, it’s not pornography, it really is cat food this time - he double checked. On top of this, he knows everyone in the business. No, really. He can’t move 3 feet down Broadway without someone booming his name. The tone of said boom depends, of course, but who hasn’t been caught with his bottom out in that director’s wife’s en-suite? 

Sean: outdoor activity centre instructor. You mean you can actually get paid to swim in lakes, ride ziplines through the forest and eat roasted marshmallows?! Sean couldn’t believe his ears. But it was true, and he’s living his best life. He may be on his penultimate warning for unruly behaviour, but he knows he could never really get fired. How could they? Everyone loves him. And to his credit, he’s a fantastic instructor, especially with kids. Everything from canoeing to caving, wild swimming to climbing, Sean has mastered it all and he always makes it fun. No one is allowed to feel left out or silly for not being able to do something. Sean has a way of making everyone feel included, even if you can only make it up the first few rungs of the ladder. Hey, that’s still off the ground! He once knew this feller Bill who cried because a moth flew into his face. You’re doing fine. 

Mary-Beth: librarian and YA author. Sweet Mary-Beth, how could she be anywhere else but surrounded by books? She adores her job at her small, local library and is always looking for ways to make it even better. She often gets tangled up in the stories she reads whilst organising shelves, but it’s quiet enough most days that she’s rarely caught. She loves helping people find their books or recommending her favourites. She also runs the toddler storytime groups and a writing club for older kids. Of course, she’s also writing her own books. The first of her ‘Valentine Mysteries’ books made a modest profit and she’s excited to write more about the adventures of Leslie Dupont. 

Karen: actress. Realising that she had a knack for accents and even after an especially successful high school lead role as Roxy Hart, Karen didn’t really acknowledge her would-be passion for acting for a long time. But she used her talents to get herself and her friends into X-rated films, dive bars and successfully pull off dozens of prank calls. It wasn’t until one of her friends was going to an open-call audition for a short film and wanted someone to go with her that Karen had her epithany. She was cast on the spot, much to the dismay of her friend. Since then, she’s been in a handful of arthouse films, a commercial here and there, and recently enjoyed a short run as Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at a small theatre downtown. Does she want fame and fortune? Honestly, she hasn’t really thought about it. Right now, she’s just enjoying the ride. And the phone numbers left for her at front of house from many admirers. 

Strauss: financial loan adviser. Oh boy, perhaps you saw this one coming. Then again, maybe not. Old Leopold isn’t quite the two-pronged-tongued eldritch horror people often mistake him for. In fact, he actually advises people against loan sharks. He had his fair share of debts y’see and he genuinely doesn’t want anyone else to go through the same thing. He’s not exactly sweet and cuddly, but he might let you have a free pen if you call by his office. I mean, technically they’re not free but...never mind, just take it. 

Bill: plumber. It was purely accidental that Bill bashed his way into his career. No, really. His sink was blocked and after an hour of poking and prodding the pipes he started hitting the poor thing with a spanner out of pure frustration, cursing all the way. To his shock, it worked, and he suddenly had running water again. What shocked him more is that he realised he wanted to know how. So, he bought a book. And he read the book. And one thing led to another, and now he’s the proud owner of Williamson Plumbing Inc. The money is very good, but for Bill that’s not it. You have to understand that for him, it’s the act itself of fixing something that brings Bill immense satisfaction. And Bill isn’t used to knowing more about something - anything - than those around him. For the first time perhaps in his life, he can sit down, solve a problem, and know that he’s done a good job. 

Swanson: AA group leader. After getting completely sober almost a decade ago and staying that way, Orville wanted to give something back to the people who had helped him out so greatly. Becoming a volunteer to help those who were trapped where he was seemed like the only path, and it felt so right. Orville is there in meetings, making coffee, handing out donuts and training new volunteers. If anyone wants to talk about their faith he’s all ears, but he never pushes it as a cure-all in any situation. Orville’s sobriety has also meant that he’s learnt to make the most phenomenal mocktails. 

Pearson: grocery shop manager and cooking teacher. Simon has his small grocery shop on the edge of town which has a wide range of regular customers. But he wanted to do more, so he set up a small class to teach fellow veterans how to cook. His wife helps out, and they grow the ingredients together in their garden and down at the allotment. It’s just an therapeutic for him as it is for his students, as he’s only just realising how much he wants to talk about his time in the navy. 

Uncle: unknown. For the longest time, everyone thought Uncle worked at one of the worst dive bars in town, as whenever they stumbled in for a nightcap he was there, behind the bar, happy as a pig in shit. Turns out that he just started going there one night and no one could get him to leave. And so every evening he’ll appear like a phantom, sit himself in the half-broken chair behind the bar (clearly labelled “not for customer use”), order the cheapest beer on the menu and sit there until midnight. No one can understand how he gets the means to live as he ragingly denies receiving any government handouts despite his lumbago. Claims to be a veteran but hasn’t fought in any wars anyone has heard of. 

[juliettalfacharlie]

Day One: “You have to let me go.”

CW graphic violence, injury, animal death (it's dark.)

It had begun as a simple animal trafficking raid; the Creeping Crystal Triad had expanded their avenues into illegal wildlife trade, and a solid tip lead them to a warehouse hidden up in the mountains. When Lin had received the call, she'd been out having lunch with Kya, and the waterbender had insisted on coming in case any animals had been injured.

Once they arrived, it seemed all the clues pointed to an abandoned gig. The sight was absolutely gruesome; Lin found a trailer with two dead boar-q-pines, both terribly emaciated. One had clearly died (note, been killed) and the other had tried to eat it, blood forever staining the wooden walls and floor. As they ventured further onto the property, the conditions were similar. Owl cats that had plucked themselves bare in nervousness, still and unmoving in their filthy cages. A concrete pen housed the remains of a crococat family, kittens still small and fuzzy.

Kya wrapped her arms around herself, beyond horrified. Lin, however private she preferred to be, wasn't so much of a hardass that she didn't comfort her girlfriend, who immediately buried her face in Lin's neck.

Lin lead her back out front while she had two officers sweep the rest of the house. While she'd witnessed occasions of animal abuse before, it had never been on such a large scale as this, and she'd barely scratched the surface of this disturbing scene.

She brought Kya to their car, sure she needed to sit and let the shock wear off.

Part of Lin wanted to call in more backup, but she wanted to subject as few people to the grisly sight as possible. The four men on-site had been on the force for a long time; while it definitely wasn't easy, she knew they'd be able to handle processing it all.

They were twenty feet from their car when the van beside them exploded, throwing both women forward.

Lin had been behind Kya, her armour taking bits of shrapnel. She didn't have time to process their landing; the dense layer of fallen leaves provided zero traction against the sloped drop off, and in what felt like a moment, Lin was falling.

There was a narrow ledge three feet below the side of the mountain, then an incredibly steep descent into a copse of trees. Their momentum deposited them right against the edge of the shelf. Lin felt her metal plates scratching against the rocky cliff face, and her hand desperately clawed for a hold.

Her fingers dug into the earth, creating an artificial grip that she held onto for dear life.

Kya hadn't been able to find purchase, but Lin blindly reached out, and by some miracle she'd been able to find her wrist.

The older woman slipped off the edge, a short shriek leaving her lungs as she felt herself drop.

Lin tightened her hold, solely supporting Kya's weight. She felt something tear in her shoulders, both arms pulled in different directions, and she cried out.

Her muscles were past overworked, and she trembled in exertion. Kya looked up at her in fear.

"You have to let me go." she insisted, and Lin fought with her neck to tilt her head down.

"Like hell I will." she gritted out, pure agony spread across her back. She willed herself to hold on for a fraction longer, right forearm straining. Lin curled her legs up, striking the ledge with her metal shoes. She created a foothold in the rock, allowing her to relieve some of the stress on her upper body with her quads.

It didn't ease her left arm pain, but she actually felt stable enough to continue.

"Kya, I need you to hold my belt. I'll turn my armour into handles so you can climb up." she called, as if she were instructing an officer. Kya swung herself up so that her free hand could grip Lin's corded belt, and Lin grimaced at the new pressure at her waist.

When Kya said she was secure, Lin released her wrist, and the waterbender quickly took hold with her other hand.

Lin bore down on her thighs, using her now-free arm to remove her plates.

Pain throbbed up her shoulder but she pushed through, rolling the flat metal pieces into cylinders that she impaled into the cliffside.

Once she was done she exhaled, letting her left arm hang limply at her side. "Get your foot onto the bottom most peg, and you can switch your grips over." Lin explained, and Kya did as told. As her weight shifted onto the climbing studs, Lin almost sagged in relief.

"Climb up now. I'm going to need you to help me." she continued. Kya carefully ascended three feet until she could pull herself onto solid ground, quickly looking over the edge at Lin.

Her stomach dropped at the sight of her lover just barely clinging to safety, but Lin's face was devoid of visible fear.

"What can I do?" Kya asked, and Lin's eyes studied the ledge, looking for the best route with only one arm.

"I'm going to walk up the side; can you grab my wrist and help pull me?" she was met with a quick nod, and Kya bent her knees to give her the necessary support.

"Ready?" she asked, and Lin quickly loosened her hold on the rock, instead taking Kya's hand. It was the most stressful moment for Kya, the knowledge that any error could cause Lin to fall backwards to almost certain death.

While time seemed to pass slowly, the exchange went without incident, and Kya felt a surge of relief as she began to straighten her legs. Lin created more vertical footholds, allowing herself to climb up like it was the world's most lethal jungle gym.

With one final push, Lin too stood on the short ledge, and Kya couldn't help her relieved sob.

Lin shuffled close, pressing Kya back against the rock as she rested her head on the taller woman's shoulder.

The metalbender caught her breath, letting the adrenaline seep from her body as she gripped her girlfriend's hand.

Above them, one of Lin's officers frantically peered down.

"Chief!" he exclaimed, immediately raising the platform both women stood on.

There was a gash on his temple, swollen and bloody, but a glance towards the house said that wasn't the worst of it.

The storage facility was still burning, black smoke rising from the windows and the collapsed ceiling. Lin and Kya both tightened their hold on one another.

After a moment, Lin asked, eyes sweeping the scene, "Where's Sergeant Kip?"

"She's perfectly fine, ser. She's on the line with dispatch." he explained, gaze flitting about the horizon. Kya could see the telltale signs of shock in his jittery behaviour.

"Clearly this wasn't just an animal smuggling ring. I want to know every damn detail about that building, about the tip, about fucking everything." Lin growled, and the officer nodded.

"Yes, ser." he responded automatically.

Lin shook her head, beginning to trudge towards her Satomobile. Kya was with her at each step.

"Take it easy, Cheok, you've done well. Is your forehead the only injury you sustained?" she asked, and he took a moment to think.

"I believe so. The- I was knocked onto the ground, but I don't think it's serious. Kip was further back, so she was only affected by the sound." he explained.

Lin hummed in understanding, "I'm going to have Kya take a look, alright?" and Cheok agreed. He took a seat in the passenger side of the Satomobile, and Kya leaned down to work on his temple.

Lin would continue on and speak with Kip, but she took a moment to let her mind finally catch up, again staring at the ruins of the building.

She supported her left elbow to lesson the pain across her back. It was a different kind of torture compared to her mental anguish. The devastation of having lost two men, the knowledge she and Kya had been a minute off of dying with them. Their extreme luck climbing back up the mountain.

She took a steadying breath. It had began a wonderfully pleasant morning, yet somehow ended like this.

Lin didn't want to be away from Kya right now, but she had to continue her duties. She began to walk towards Kip's car, finding herself for once unable to compartmentalize her emotions and responsibilities. Catching the criminals had always been revenge enough, but damnit if she wouldn't tear the Creeping Crystal Triad apart doing so.

[cosplayinamerica]

ARTIST ALLEY : BurntGreenTea

Here at Cosplay in America, I am expanding who I interview to those in the convention scene. Today we will talk to BurntGreenTea who I met in artist alley at Ikkicon, an anime convention in Austin, TX. BurntGreenTea is from Northern California and as stated on his Deviant Art “Hey, my name is Nelson! I like to draw waifus”

EJEN : My first question is why BurntGreenTea? 

BURNTGREENTEA: That’s actually my second handle I came up with, I had an embarrassing name before so I wanted to change into something more ironic and more “me” in a name. so I’ve been going as BurntGreenTea ever since. I do drink matcha alot!

EJEN: Tell us how you got started in artist alley, what was your first one and what was that experience like?

BURNTGREENTEA: I started getting interested in doing artist alley at my first Fanime Con back in 2007 as a one day attendee when I was still in high school.

I went with my best friend at the time and it blew my expectations of what a convention was, especially the artist alley since it completely opened my mind that there’s artists actually selling fan art. But I didn’t commit to it until 2012, just when I was in my 2nd year of college.

By that time, I had enough digital art and felt confident that I could do it. Fanime still had the application process of first come first serve (meaning those who apply the earliest will get a spot), so I was fortunate enough to apply fast enough to get a table!

For a first time experience it was nerve-wracking before, during and after the con. But there was something to it that really sparked my interest; and I think there were people that legitimately liked my work and bought them.

EJEN: Was there a point that you went “yeah, this could work” and you made the jump to traveling out of state for artist alley?

BURNTGREENTEA: It was about one and half years after I graduated from college, between that time I worked in a job that was soul sucking but I had many of my colleagues working at, and then after I was applying to animation studios, gaming companies, etc while I was doing commissions and artist alleys at the same time.

It went on like this for almost a year. By this point I felt like I really hit my lowest and felt a great shame that I couldn’t find “stable” work. My parents didn’t really support me doing artist alley during this time since it’s not legit work and it’s more like a fun hobby I can do on the side, all the while I have colleagues and friends who have jobs in the animation or gaming industries. I felt extremely lost, and wasn’t sure the direction I wanted to go in life, so my parents encouraged me to go back to school to get a “safe” degree or trade.

But there was something I knew in the back of my mind that I couldn’t see until I had a meet up with an old friend. She was confident, happy, found her dream job that paid well and she enjoyed the work, and she was completely honest and blunt. When the topic came up of me being lost in life, she asked me, “what did you want to do then?” and I told her honestly, “I really just want to do artist alley and make that work.” “Then just do it.” So I did.

EJEN: After all the time you spent in artist alley, what’s the most important factor that an artist must understand to do decently in sales

BURNTGREENTEA: Research research research. It’s basically “knowledge is power” but breaking down as knowing your audience, yourself (what you enjoy, your strengths and capabilities) and learning new trades while breaking old habits.

EJEN: Can you go more in detail about research, research, research?

BURNTGREENTEA: So this reflects back on my previous answer, so know the convention you’re going into, what you can offer, what’s your budget, everything that would make your experience at the convention you’re getting into a great experience.

I have heard many stories of artists not breaking even and even I had bad experiences due to inaccurate/outdated information or inexperience. For example, there was a first year event that had a $1000 table price tag and promised to bring in 5000 attendees.

This was going to be my second event/convention to table at, so I had no idea what it was going to be like and decided to go for it. It ended up having less than 100 attendees, and I lost a significant amount of money. So now I have to get as much info as I can get to make the convention viable to go to.

EJEN: How do you describe your style and how has it changed if any over the 14 years you’ve done art? What were some of your earlier influences.

BURNTGREENTEA: Right now I can say it’s pretty much anime style, but I can say there were several phases I went through. Looking through my Deviantart gives a great timeline all the way back to middle school until recently.

When I initially started I was getting into anime thanks to friends, so I was very much influenced by Naruto, Full Metal Alchemist, and Gurren Lagann. Then in high school I started to do more digital art, eventually creating artwork bigger and grander just like the artists from Fanime I admired.

When I finally started my education in my art program in college, I started getting the proper training in lighting, form, and composition. This time period my pieces were more western-influenced, like more realistic faces and body proportions, but there was something missing in it that I wouldn’t understand until after I graduated. It’s around the same time when I wanted to do artist alleys full time that I was more true to myself in the style and got more flashy, more colorful and composition.

EJEN : How do you decide what Alley to apply for. What’s your personal criteria for conventions to do artist alley at? 

BURNTGREENTEA: Local cons are usually easy for me to decide to apply for due to the cost being low(transportation, housing, etc). If there’s anything that involves flying out of state, I have to factor in much more information about the con, personal experiences from other artists, and if it is viable for an anime fan artist to break even and also turn a profit. Usually big conventions like Anime Expo and Otakon are the must go to conventions for their huge attendance numbers.

EJEN: Describe to me a typical day in the Alley!

BURNTGREENTEA: Due to the times right now, it seems like almost a dream to be in an artist alley, haha. Here’s a usual day of being in the Alley: Waking up early to get ready, getting breakfast and caffeine before heading inside a convention.

Usually getting there early, either me or some art friends would walk around the Alley and check out other artists before it’s open to the public. There would be some art friends I made along the way that I can catch up with briefly, chatting about the next shows or projects. I would have probably stayed up kinda late working on physical commissions and would need to go back to my table to continue finishing them up.

When the Alley opens up, it’s mostly engaging and talking with familiar customers or friends, while also working on commissions during the down times. Friends would go on food or snack runs, and I would get an hour to go shopping during the day somewhere as a break.

By the time it ends, it would have felt like it had gone in a flash. But with heavy eyes but our hearts full with a day accomplished. If we had the strength, we would check out an event or explore the convention hall abit more to absorb the atmosphere. Getting dinner with friends after a job well done, while we have another day to look forward to spending time with fans alike.

It’s really nostalgic to reflect on a typical day to be in the Alley, and having to have that all stop for almost a year now.

EJEN: Since the pandemic, how are you coping with this change both personally and business-wise?

BURNTGREENTEA: I was honestly hoping conventions would come back around at the end of May, but that never happened so I had to approach things differently. Luckily I had a freelance gig that I was working part time, so I had a semi-regular income on the side while I applied for virtual conventions and commissions.

It was tough since I wanted 2020 to be the year I would do the most conventions ever but that plan derailed. I also focused on my online shop and my social media presence, which so far is paying off!

Like everyone this year took a mental and physical toll, but I also ended up working on more projects and digital work to help keep me distracted.

EJEN: What are your plans for the future, what are you working on?

BURNTGREENTEA: My goal is still to go back to doing conventions, but at the moment I’m going to give that a pause. Currently I have a contract job that’s ending soon, and I have something that’s NDA that might come up, crossing my fingers! That’s the near future, but for the time being I want to refocus on learning new things and refining my art since I’ve gotten rusty.

EJEN: Finally who is your waifu?

BURNTGREENTEA: My waifu is Lucina from Fire Emblem!

Visit BurntGreenTea’s Etsy!

[skgway]

1823 Aug., Mon. 18

5 25/60

11 25/60

From 6 10/60 to 7 3/4 in the stable and about – George took Percy to Blamire’s to have his shoes removed – Told William he was to take John’s share of milking every Monday morning and clean shoes and knives regularly every Saturday morning, that George may be ready to go out with me – on Monday mornings the gig-harness etc. to be thoroughly cleaned – Speaking of the cows instead of being bulling James says they are riding, but he hopes they are most of them with calf. They have all passed the three weeks except the cow that went yesterda[y] and some have been six weeks quiet. That is, it is so long since they went to the bull. By this I suppose there are three weeks between each bulling and if they are quiet after this period they are commonly with calf –

From 7 3/4 to 9 1/2, wrote the above of this morning, and reading over the 2 first volumes of White’s veterinary medicine and his veterinary dictionary relative to Diuretics (Caradoc wants one as George told John before he went to Blamire’s) * and wrote a 1/2 sheet note to Miss P– [Pickford] in answer to one from her to say she was doubtful whether she could drink tea with us this evening –

Marian came a little before 10 – At 10 3/4 drove him to Crownest sat 1/2 hour with Mrs. Walker, the 2 young ladies out riding – Then sat 1/2 hour with Miss Walker of Cliff hill, drove Marian home (to Northgate) took up my aunt who was waiting there, and got home (to Shibden) at 1 1/2 –

In the stable till 2 – Then came upstairs and till 3 3/4, looking over the above volumes of White – and copying some formula – I shall get a ball at Suter’s this afternoon – Told Miss P– [Pickford] I should be in town this afternoon and would call * for her at Whitley’s at 5 3/4 by the old church clock, begging her by all means to come – Business of Mrs. Wilcock’s with Mr. Howarth the prevention, but surely as he was to be at Saville hill this morning, Miss P– [Pickford] may escape in the evening – She bathes “literally to keep off the effects of mental exertion.” This business of Miss Threlfalls is a miserable concern –

From 4 1/4 to 5, looking over from page 193 to 240 Samouelle – At 5 10/60 set off to walk to H–x [Halifax] down the old bank to Suter’s, ordered 2 diuretic balls for Caradoc each containing 1/2 oz. soap; 1/2 oz. yellow resin; 2 drops common turpentine, and aniseed or caraway seed enough to form the ball vide White’s veterinary dictionary page 115 – Suter said they would be very gentle – His diuretic balls would be twice as strong – The active ingredients of each ball was weight (as I understood him) 2 oz. – He only mentioned their containing nitre and soap –

Went to Whitley’s for 40 minutes while these balls were making – Read Whitley’s London Catalogue (of books) for last year, all the while – Returned along Southgate down Horton Street and up the old bank, and got home at 6 40/60 –

Had it been fine Miss P– [Pickford] would probably have met me at Whitley’s and walked back with me to tea – Dinner at 6 50/60 – Fine day till about 4 – Gentle rain all the way to and from H–x [Halifax] this afternoon and very wet evening – Barometer 1 1/2 degrees below changeable Fahrenheit 58º at 9 p.m. – Came upstairs at 10 20/60 –

[odietxamo]

( david castaneda, thirty, cis male, he/him,  cousin ) Did anyone else just see SALVADOR “SAL” LEON ? I hear for the LEON family they can be a bit REBELLIOUS & DESTRUCTIVE. But I also heard they can be PASSIONATE & INDEPENDENT. If you dare, I hear they frequent CHITOWN PARK in their spare time when they aren’t being an ILLEGAL FIGHTER / PETTY CRIMINAL. Tread carefully or else you might be next on their list ! 

basic information

Name: Salvador Antonio Leon Birthdate: February 29th Star Sign: Pisces Hometown:  Chicago, Illinois Nationality: American Ethnicity: Mexican Languages: English, Spanish

the look

Hair: Black, messy, does what it will Eyes: Brown, often bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles Height: 5′11 Weight: 170 Physique: Muscular, but thinner and more gaunt than he used to be Style: All black, jeans, oversized hoodies, sweatpants, basically anything he can find at the good will for cheap

the story

Sal Leon came from a big family, with sisters on either side and a slew of cousins, aunts, and uncles. Most of them came from military backgrounds or worked in law enforcement in some manner. This meant that in many ways, the Leon family was above the law... because essentially, they were the law. Uncle Javier was in charge of the police force, and he made sure that every member of the family always had a place working for the boys in blue. This even included Sal’s own Dad, Esteban, a crooked cop who probably would’ve never made the cut if Javier hadn’t pulled some strings.

The Leons’ also had a particular mentality, one that demanded that family always be put first. Nothing could come before blood: not love, not work, not money. Nothing. A Leon never turned their back on family and they always had each other’s back no matter what. Now, in most cases, this sort of ideology would be a good thing, but not always. Sure, through out his life, it’s been this unwavering loyalty that’s helped Sal stay out of jail... but it’s also this mentality that kept his Dad free and clear and allowed Sal to withstand countless abuses. 

See, the Leon family was great, but Esteban was nothing short of a monster. He drank, he cheated, he gambled, he took bribes, he killed people, and to top it all off, he hated his son. Esteban always had it out for Sal and he’d always find some reason to antagonize him. If Sal forgot to do the dishes, or stayed up too late watching TV, or just didn’t do well on a test, Esteban would light into him. Sometimes it would be with words, sometimes it would be with his fists or his belt. Really, it all just depended on Esteban’s mood.

Normally, in a situation like Sal’s, something would’ve happened and someone would’ve helped him. This is where that family first mentality really bit Sal in the ass though. See, every time the abuse was reported, someone in the family made it go away.

His home life really took a toll on Sal and it showed. His grades sucked, he was always in trouble, and he got kicked out of more than one school for fighting. Really, Sal was just a mess.

More concerned members of his extended family did their best to step in and protect him, but it was never enough. He’d go to their houses and stay there, sometimes just for dinner, sometimes for weeks at a time. Eventually he’d always have to go home, though.

His Uncle Javier got him involved with martial arts and boxing when he was thirteen. It was supposed to be something to help him handle his situation: a way to teach him to defend himself form his Dad and to let out his rage. Surprisingly, it was actually a pretty helpful outlet, and to this day, it’s the only talent he really has.

Despite everyone’s best efforts, Sal never really learned to walk the straight and narrow. By the time he hit highschool, he was doing drugs, drinking, dealing, and stealing anything worth pawning. He went to juvie a few times because of it but it was never anything serious. The family always made sure he never served any real time. 

Adulthood hasn’t been much better than adolescence for Sal. He couldn’t handle college, he had zero desire to join the force, and his skills and personality didn’t lend themselves to many fields. Plus, he was usually way too fucked up to do anything productive.

Thankfully, Sal had friends in low places and they’d give him a call anytime they needed an extra pair of hands. Car theft, assault robbery - Sal was available for almost anything as long as it payed.

There’s been a few brief periods where Sal has tried to get his shit together. The last one was a few years back. He had a lot going for him at the time: he was clean, he had a girlfriend that wasn’t a total mess, and he even was working as a trainer over at Takedown. But then he met up with an ex and did a few lines... the rest is history.

Nowadays, Sal just gets by however he can. Often, he can be seen in the park, where he regularly robs tourists and breaks into cars. He also occasionally fights at The Den - but he only does that when he’s really low on cash.

extras

Sal is an extremely capable combatant and is familiar with multiple forms of martial arts.

He’s dyslexic

Really has nothing to do with his family at this point

Sal is generally the kind of guy who’s down for anything.

He’ll take just about anything you give him, but he prefers cocaine, benzos, and the occasional norco with a beer.

Dumb, but also kind of clever? Like, he says nuclear wrong, but he also is really good at puzzles.

Has a weak spot for doggos

Lives in a van down by the river

Nah, he doesn’t... well, yet anyway. He just lives in a really shitty apartment that probably should be condemned.

Is just full of really weird facts, stories, and tidbits that will leave people wondering wtf

wanted connections 

BEST BUDS  - There’s one or two of them. They’re involved in one of the gangs and have been for years now. They help Sal out and give him gigs here and there, just to help out. All of them have been friends since highschool. SHIT SHOW EX - She’s just as much of a train wreck as he is and when they’re together it’s a disaster. STABLE EX - The only girl he’s ever had who actually had her shit together. She was a great influence, but he fucked the whole thing up.

[chicagosfinest2021]

nosy anons let's go

(I know people are supposed to anonymously send these to people but most people usually don't bother so I'm just going to answer them myself because I can :-P )

0: Height-5'3"

1: Age-Old enough to know what a pager is but young enough to never have actually used one before X-D

2: Shoe size-9

3: Do you smoke? No

4: Do you drink? Occasionally/socially

5: Do you take drugs? Just benadryl for my allergies

6: Age you get mistaken for? Early to mid 20's

7: Have tattoos? No

8: Want any tattoos? No, I like my chocolately skin the way it is :-)

9: Got any piercings? Just my ears

10: Want any piercings? I might get one or two more

11: Best friend? My sister

12: Relationship status? Happily unattached

13: Biggest turn ons? Men who have money and spend it on me

14: Biggest turn offs? Broke men who are looking for free sex and free therapy

15: Favorite movie? An Indian movie I just watched on Netflix a few months ago called "Queen". I saw so much of myself in the main character, it was amazing.

16: I’ll love you if… For men, you consistently make the effort to make me happy and make sure I'm taken care of(which includes respecting my time and my presence in your life). For women...we just have to bond and genuinely enjoy each others company, that's really it. Women earn my love much more easily.

17: Someone you miss? My grandmother, I'd probably give up a lot of good things I have going for myself right now in exchange for having my grandmother back.

18: Most traumatic experience? (*Trigger warning*) My sexual assaults, especially the second one because it was someone I'd known since I was a kid.

19: A fact about your personality? I've been introverted since childhood. I like either small intimate settings or being alone, rarely do I enjoy being in big groups.

20: What I hate most about myself? That it took me so long to come out of my social anxiety and had low self value for so long. I think that if I had conquered all of that sooner, I'd be a lot further ahead in life.

21: What I love most about myself? I'm more secure in who I am now than ever before. There's certain things that I used to tolerate that are unthinkable to me in the present, and I don't have "haters" because anyone that might be throwing negative energy my way doesn't register.

22: What I want to be when I get older? A luxurious Black woman with my own condo and living in an upscale neighborhood. I want to be saving money, making wise investments, and spoiling myself and my niece <3 I also want to have a tight group of girl friends I spend time with regularly.

23: My relationship with my sibling(s)? I have one full sister who is like my twin and we're very close, and a younger half-sister who's 8 years my junior whom I love but don't relate to too much. We have different mothers and (through no fault of hers) we grew up in very different environments: me and my oldest sister are a lot more "bougie" as a result of our suburban upbringing, but our little sister grew up in the 'hood and applies "hood logic" to a lot of things. The type of men we're attracted to, the type of music we like, the company we keep. . .it's like trying to talk to someone who speaks a foreign language.

24: My relationship with my parent(s)? I'm a daddy's girl. Even though my dad and I don't see eye to eye on everything he's the reason why I have such high expectations from men. My mom and I only recently started getting close, she and I tend to bump heads more often than me and my dad.

25: My idea of a perfect date? I show up to a 4 star Italian restaurant and my date meets me with roses and a small gift. We sit down and he's a gentleman, we eat, chat, makes jokes, and have a few drinks. After he pays the bill but before we get up to leave he passes me an envelope under the table. I take a look and see that it has $700 in cash inside of it. I accept it and thank him. Before we part ways he requests to see me again soon and I tell him I'll have to check my schedule. My Uber ride pulls up and my date opens my door for me before taking my hand and kissing it.

26: My biggest pet peeves? Men who want maximum benefits for minimal effort and the women willing to give it to them. Also trap music, just. . .in general. Oh and Black people who still insist we're "taking the sting out of the N-word" by using it casually amongst ourselves, it's just such a problematic and counterproductive mindset and I can't even pretend to entertain it.

27: A description of the girl/boy I like? I don't currently have anyone that I like but ideally they'd be well groomed, witty, intelligent, stable mentally, emotionally and financially. Someone who likes jokes but isn't vulgar, and notices the little things about me (how I make eye contact, my natural scent, the way I carry myself when I walk, sit, stand, etc). Being physically attractive is always a plus, but things that I find physically attractive in a person is very broad.

28: A description of the person I dislike the most? Rude, unkempt, body odor, someone who doesn't respect personal boundaries, ungrateful, uninteresting, someone who talks incessantly about things they don't actually know or can't comprehend.

29: A reason I’ve lied to a friend? I can't remember the last time I lied to a friend about anything.

30: What I hate the most about work/school? My current position is uninteresting, tedious and not in a field I was working in previously. Also I'm doing work that realistically should be performed by 4 or 5 people but of course they expect one person to take care of everything. It's really just a temporary gig to make money to save up for a new place, so I'm trying to suck it up because I know I won't be here long.

31: What my last text message says: My cousin said she got her 2nd covid vaccination today so I responded with "Hip Hop Hooray!" LOL

32: What words upset me the most? "I'm just looking to have fun. . ."

33: What words make me feel the best about myself? When another pretty Black girl gives me a compliment, I immediately feel invincible.

34: What I find attractive in women? High self esteem and a sense of security, not seeing other women as competition, women who are cultured and have multiple interests, and who enjoy learning new things as well as sharing her wisdom with others. I also enjoy creating bonds with women who are child-free by choice like myself.

35: What I find attractive in men? Their ability to spoil me and give me pleasure.

36: Where I would like to live? North side of Chicago maybe around Lincoln Park. Outside of the US I'd like to live in England or Ireland in the future.

37: One of my insecurities: I am a short woman with large breasts (double D's). I've been buxom since a very young age and being well endowed has made me the center of negative attention on more than a few occasions. I'm constantly battling between wanting to highlight my curves without "advertising" too much either.

38: My childhood career choice: I believe I wanted to be a writer. I'd love to be a travel blogger actually.

39: My favorite ice cream flavor: It used to be cookie dough but now it's mint chocolate chip

40: Who I wish I could be: Sade

41: Where I want to be right now: Sitting on the balcony of my luxury condo, sipping wine and watching the lights of the city while smooth jazz is playing on my record player.

42: The last thing I ate: A slice of my dad's birthday cake (red velvet)

43: Sexiest person that comes to my mind immediately: I have this picture of this male model saved on my phone who looks like a "stereotypical" sugar daddy to me: tall, caucasian male, white/silver hair, piercing blue eyes, mid to late 50's, full beard and mustache, about 6 feet tall, muscular build.

44: A random fact about anything: Countries with more irreligious people/atheists/non-believers tend to also be the most peaceful and prosperous.