#they are allowed to do whatever they want BECAUSE THEY ARE THEIR OWN PEOPLE

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 16

˗ˏˋ choosing yourselfˎˊ˗

"You deserve better than a quickie in a musty bathroom stall, and Jungkook should know that, even when he sounds earnest and literally kisses your shoulder. But whatever, because it doesn't last long—he's back to being an asshole after Jason takes you both home. And then it's time you make a choice for yourself, because you can't allow to second-guess yourself like you've done multiple times in the past."

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⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 9k

content: self-recrimination on a mirror, jungkook being a horny fuck, shoulder kisses, jungkook being irrational and paranoid, jason being a gentleman, coffee date plans, fighting, gyno appointments, yoongi being weirdly supportive and feeling like finally making a choice for yourself.

✧ author's note ✧

HO-HU-HEY.

WELL. Here it is. Chapter 16. The girlies (and the girlies include me) took forever to reach the last goal, so naturally I gave in, lowered the bar, and got my cheeks clapped by the consequences because it took you all of five days. Five. Fucking. Days. I hate you all (affectionately). The bar is going BACK UP and this time I’m standing on business. Don’t test me. (You absolutely can. I’m weak.)

Anyway. Let’s talk about the chapter.

I loved writing this. Like genuinely. As much as I enjoy the pining and the tension and Jungkook being the absolute worst, this one hit different. There are so few stories that actually show characters doing normal life things—especially uterus-having characters dealing with the reality of taking control over their bodies. I wanted to write that. I needed to write that.

But more than the appointment itself, this was about Y/N. About her doing something for herself, on her terms. About taking back agency, making an uncomfortable but important decision because she knows if she walks away from it, she’ll never come back. She’ll spiral, overthink, talk herself out of it. So she does it now. Impulsively, but intentionally. And like... that’s growth, baby. That’s real.

Also?? Yoongi. My beautiful, quiet king. I didn’t know how to write him into this initially but I knew—I knew—he had to be the one who went with her. Because he’s not loud, he’s not overbearing, he doesn’t project his shit onto anyone else. He’s just present. He’s calm. He listens. He helps because he wants to, not because he needs to be thanked or seen for it. I loved deepening their bond this way, giving her a moment of safety that doesn’t come from the people we expect, but from the people who show up. He’s so important in that apartment and I feel like this chapter gave him the spotlight he deserves.

Anyway. I hope you enjoy it. I hope it makes you feel seen. I hope it makes you feel like your choices matter, and your body is yours, and it’s okay to be scared and still do the thing anyway.

Now go comment. I'm watching you. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

The thing about standing on business is that it’s a lot harder when Jungkook texts you like that.

Not that it matters. Because you are standing on business. You’re in the bathroom, alone, which is exactly where you should be after dealing with a full thirty-five minutes of Jason’s smooth eye contact, Jimin’s shit-eating grin, and Jungkook’s insufferable, cocky-ass messages.

And before anybody even thinks it—no, you’re not here because of Jungkook.

You’re here because you’re tired. That’s it. Because this damn building is too hot, and your eyes were practically sliding closed during that last poetry discussion. Because you just needed some cold water on your face, a minute to wake yourself up, to breathe.

Not because of his texts.

Not because the way he talks to you does anything.

And definitely not because your thighs were pressed so tight together under that table that even Jason’s deep, articulate voice wasn’t enough to drown out the low thrum that Jungkook might have been right about something.

You glare at your own reflection. Point a silent, accusing finger at yourself.

“Be so fucking for real right now.”

Your reflection does not respond.

You splash more water on your face. Cold, crisp, refreshing. But also kind of not refreshing, because all it does is make you hyper-aware of how warm your skin feels. How annoyingly wired your body is.

You don’t like his dirty talk. You don’t. It’s embarrassing. It’s cringe. It’s the kind of thing that should have you rolling your eyes and shutting your phone off instead of, you know, letting him keep going. Letting him pull you into it.

It’s not arousal, okay?

It’s secondhand embarrassment.

It’s your brain cringing so hard that it doesn’t know what to do with itself, so it misfires and sends weird signals to the rest of your body.

That’s all.

Because you’re not one of those people who fuck in gross library bathrooms. You’re not desperate. You have standards. You deserve better than some icky stall, no matter how kissable someone’s lips are. 

No matter how good their dick game is. 

Or their tongue.

Or mouth. 

Or hands.

You groan. Plant your hands on the edge of the sink and lean in. Stare at yourself, deadpan, through wet lashes.

“You deserve better,” you say flatly, like the universe needs the reminder as much as you do.

The thing is, you’ve always prided yourself on your self-control. On knowing exactly what you want and how to get it without messy entanglements. Feelings complicate things. Feelings lead to expectations, and expectations lead to disappointment, and disappointment leads to that pathetic, hollow ache you've made an art of sidestepping.

And yet.

And yet, there was something about the way Jungkook looked at you in that goddamn laundry room. Something almost… soft. Curious, even. Like he wasn’t seeing you as a sparring partner or a mild inconvenience but as—what? Someone worth watching? You’d laughed at something dumb, something fleeting, and for once, his response hadn’t been smug amusement or provocation. 

It had been real. Bubbly. Almost fond.

Which is, obviously, a problem.

Or at the very least, it’s becoming one.

Because these observations are unwelcome intrusions into what should be a straightforward arrangement. You don’t want to see Jungkook as a person with layers and complexities and actual human qualities. It was much easier when he was just ‘the sexy Pulse stranger with the great arms’ who happened to be excellent in bed. An object of convenient lust and equally convenient disdain.

And now he’s Jungkook. Jungkook, your insufferable roommate. Also Rogue. Also Griffin’s human, also the guy whose vinyl collection is a shrine to John Mayer, for reasons you refuse to unpack.

With each passing day, he trespasses further into familiarity.

And the knowing drapes itself across your sternum like Griffin at dusk—silent, insistent, impossible to ignore.

You exhale. Straighten. Shake it off.

Push the door open.

That’s it.

You’re done. Over it. Whatever.

The door swings open, and you step out, chin high, pulse steady. Or—well. Steady enough.

And then there he is.

Leaning against the wall next to the men’s bathroom like he has all the time in the world. One ankle crossed over the other, hands tucked into the pockets of those stupidly well-fitted jeans. The overhead light casts shadows along his jaw, sharpening the already unfair angles of his face, but the smirk softens them—lazy, knowing.

Roguish.

You almost roll your eyes so hard they might never recover.

“So,” he drawls, tilting his head. “Finally gave in?”

You blink at him. Then, with all the dignity you can muster, you gesture back toward the bathroom door you just exited. 

“Yeah, totally. Gave in so hard I went to the women’s restroom instead of the men’s. I really let you have your way, huh?”

Jungkook chuckles, deep and quiet, like he’s indulging a particularly entertaining child. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muses, dark eyes sweeping over you. “Took a while in there. Thought maybe you needed a little extra… motivation.”

Your mouth opens. Closes. Heat flares up your spine because you know exactly what he’s talking about—his texts, the ones you definitely didn’t let affect you, no sir.

And Jungkook knows you know. He always does. Which is exactly why his smirk widens when you scoff, brushing past him like he’s the least interesting thing in this godforsaken building.

He follows, of course. Falls into step beside you, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach tighten. “Bet you thought about it, though.”

Your breath stutters. Just barely. And his grin? That infuriating, cocky thing? It widens.

“You’re annoying,” you inform him, as if he doesn’t already know. 

As if he isn’t enjoying the way your steps falter for half a second, the way your fingers twitch at your sides like they’re itching to grab something—his wrist, his shirt, the stupid gold chain he’s wearing right now—

“Mm.” He makes a sound of mock consideration, eyes flicking down and up, lingering at the hem of your skirt before dragging back to your face. “And yet, here we are. You in my text messages. Me in your head.”

He doesn’t need to specify what part of your head. He’s an asshole, but not an idiot.

You exhale sharply through your nose. “God, you think you’re so slick.”

“I am so slick.”

“You’re the least slick person I know.”

“So how do you explain,” he hums, leaning in just enough for his breath to graze your cheek, “the fact that you keep coming back?”

A muscle in your jaw ticks. Because—because technically, yes, but also, no, because this thing you have? It’s not about coming back. It’s about convenience. About stress relief. About what you both need, when you need it, nothing more.

So you school your face into something unimpressed, flick him a look, and say, “Your dick isn’t that good, Jungkook.”

And fuck.

He laughs.

He full-on, throaty chuckles, low and pleased and—fuck, the way it rolls through his chest, how it practically purrs out of him, like you just told him the funniest joke in the world.

His hand flexes in his pocket, like he’s restraining himself. His teeth catch his bottom lip for a second, his tongue flicking against it as his gaze devours you, and he exhales a slow, amused…

“God, the things you do to me, woman.”

And you shouldn’t feel that in your knees. You shouldn’t feel it in your stomach, in your throat, pooling low and warm and dangerous.

But you do.

And he knows it.

Which is why he takes another step closer, all effortless heat and bad decisions, and murmurs, “Say the word, Phoenix. I’ll take you right back in there. Won’t even lock the door.”

And goddamn it.

You hate him.

So you move. 

Not away from him, exactly, but toward the nearest bookshelf like you suddenly need a distraction. 

A book, a title, any excuse to look busy. 

To look unbothered.

Jungkook follows. Of course he does. He’s right there at your back, trailing you with a slow, measured step like a fucking german shepherd that already knows the outcome. He doesn’t cage you in with his arms, doesn’t press you into the shelves or block your escape.

Doesn’t need to.

Because he’s close. Just enough that when you reach for a random book, you sense him. The heat of him licks at your skin, his presence a weighted thing against your spine. 

You try to ignore it. 

The way he leans, just slightly, the way he tilts his head to let his voice skate over the shell of your ear.

“You’re so mean to me, Phoenix,” he murmurs, and it’s not fair how smooth his voice is. How it drops into something lazy and indulgent, like he’s stretching out the syllables just to see how they sound against your skin. “Act all tough, but I know you. Know what you like.”

Your fingers tighten around the spine of the book. 

Stupid. 

Reckless. 

Should’ve grabbed one with a title that could at least pretend to justify this whole act. Not Introduction to Microeconomics. 

Jungkook exhales a soft laugh, like he can see your poor choice, like he knows. 

“You’re funny,” he muses, and then—because he’s the worst—he dips his head, close enough that his nose nearly brushes the slope of your throat. “But I’m serious. Want you on my lips so bad right now.”

Your pulse slams against your ribs.

“Don’t even need to fuck you,” he goes on, like his own words are making him drunk, like he’s just thinking out loud. “Just wanna drop to my knees, put my mouth on you, make you all messy.”

You swallow. Hard.

“And you’d let me.” He whispers. “Wouldn’t you?”

Your jaw locks. Because fuck him. Because he’s right. 

Because you can already feel it, that slow, humiliating heat coiling low in your stomach, the weight of his words settling between your legs.

And Jungkook knows it. Knows your silence isn’t no. Knows the way your breath hitches, the way your fingers tighten around the stupid fucking book, the way you’re not moving away.

He shifts. Subtle, barely there, just enough for his chest to brush your shoulder. Enough to make your breath catch when his lips ghost over your pulse.

“Wouldn’t even rush it,” he continues, and he sounds wrecked by the idea, voice rough with it. “Would take my time. Make you fall apart real slow.”

You should tell him to shut up. You should shove him off, roll your eyes, something.

But you don’t. Because you hate him. And worse—you want him.

You want him.

It’s a humiliating truth, one that settles in the pit of your stomach like something molten, something that licks up your spine with every exhale he spills against your skin.

His breath hovers, a phantom thing, barely-there warmth that seeps through the fabric of your long sleeve. A cruel contrast—how your body ignites under something so light, how your nerves spark like kindling when he isn’t even touching you properly.

Not yet.

Then—his fingers. 

Slow, deliberate, reaching. Not for your wrist or your waist, not for your throat or your hip—no, that would be too easy. Too expected.

Instead, they find the fabric at your bicep. A simple touch. A barely-there tug.

And then another.

Torturous. Measured.

The sleeve slides down, inch by aching inch, and you know—you know—this is your moment. This is where you shove him off, where you huff and scoff and tell him to fuck off with his slow-burn seduction act.

Except you don’t.

You just stand there, staring at the shelf in front of you, trying not to melt out of the way the air feels against your bare skin. How exposed it is now, how Jungkook’s gaze lands heavy where the fabric used to be.

“Wanna taste you so bad right now, Nix.”

Your other hand finds the bookshelf. Not to grab a book. Not to turn the page on this whole situation.

For balance.

Because your body betrays you, trembles—just slightly, just enough that you can feel it.

And he sees it.

Feels it.

His breath dips lower. Warmer. Until his lips graze the bare curve of your shoulder.

And then he presses in.

A kiss. Featherlight. Barely there.

But devastating, because it cracks through you, sends goosebumps skittering down your arms, shivering at the nape of your neck..

“Ro—”

“I’d seriously drop to my knees right here,” he interrupts, voice quiet but wrecked. “Wouldn’t even think twice.”

Your fingers tighten against the bookshelf.

And then—

“Y/N?”

Jimin’s voice.

You move first. Swift. Normal. Like nothing just happened, like your knees weren’t about to fucking give out. Jungkook straightens, smooth, unhurried, expression lazy and unreadable.

When you turn, Jimin is there, brows furrowed, completely oblivious.

“Hey.” You clear your throat, tilt your head, something, anything to make yourself feel normal again. “What’s up?”

Jungkook stays quiet. But you can feel him. His warmth still lingers. His gaze still burns.

And it’s only when Jimin starts talking—some filler, something meaningless—that you realize your sleeve is still slipped down, fabric bunched at your elbow.

And Jungkook is still looking.

Jason appears before you fully process it, stepping into your periphery with that calm, inquisitive expression of his, eyes skimming over your face like he’s assessing something.

“You good?” His voice is gentle, curiosity laced in his tone.

You nod. “Yeah. Done for the day.”

His eyebrows quirk. Just a fraction. “Oh.”

Jimin, standing a little to the side, shifts his weight. “Do you want me to walk you to your car?”

“Oh, no,” you answer smoothly, already toeing the conversation in a different direction. “I took the bus today.”

Jason hums. “I can take you home if you want.”

And then—movement.

Jungkook. 

Shifting. Sliding in, looping an arm over your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His body radiates heat, casual in its weight, but you feel the deliberate nature of it. The timing. The message.

“Sure,” he drawls, voice all syrupy amusement. “Taking us home, Teach?”

You barely resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs, but you do shove his arm off with a sharp shrug, angling an elbow against his side—not forceful enough to hurt, but definitely not subtle.

Jason blinks. “You two live together?”

You don’t hesitate. “Roommates.”

Jason smiles, nodding, like the answer pleases him. “Well, in that case, I’d be glad to.”

You hear Jungkook chuckle behind you.

You flip him off.

But you both start walking.

Jason's car smells like expensive cologne and ambition.

You're sitting shotgun whilst Jungkook's sprawled across the back seat of Jason's immaculate SUV, taking up more space than seems physically possible, one arm slung across the headrest as he stares out the window with half-lidded interest.

The leather beneath you is that specific type of luxury that feels both comfortable and like you shouldn't be allowed to touch it at the same time—and Jason's got one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift, and he's telling you about his dissertation—something about modernist literature and the fragmentation of self-identity in post-war narratives.

It sounds impressive. It probably is impressive. 

You're nodding along, asking questions in the right places, and generally pretending that you're not stupidly aware of Jungkook's reflection in the side mirror, watching.

"What about you, Jungkook?" Jason asks suddenly, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. "Y/N mentioned you're studying film?"

Jungkook's reflection shifts, his posture straightening just slightly. 

“Yeah," he says, voice easy, unbothered. "Film and Media Studies."

"What year?"

"Dunno," he answers, and you can practically hear the shrug in his voice. "Taking classes from different years. Whatever looks interesting." 

Of course he is. God forbid he follow any sort of structured plan like a normal student.

"Planning to go into academia too, or straight to industry?" Jason continues, clearly trying to make polite conversation despite Jungkook's lackluster responses.

His response is a mere sound in the back of his throat, something between a chuckle and a scoff. Then:  "Industry. Theory's nice and all, but I'd rather be behind a camera than writing about one."

Jason nods thoughtfully. "Smart move. The academic route isn't for everyone. It takes a certain patience. Methodical thinking."

You immediately note how Jungkook's expression shifts—just for a second—into something sharper, more focused.

Then it's gone, replaced by that same lazy half-smile he always wears.

"Yeah," Jungkook drawls, leaning back. "Guess I'm just more of a hands-on learner."

The way he says "hands-on" shouldn't feel loaded. 

It doesn't, really.

Except that your mind immediately flashes to those same hands on your skin, and you have to resist the urge to shift in your seat.

Jason seems oblivious, continuing. "What kind of films are you into?"

"The good ones," Jungkook replies, and you can hear the smirk without even looking.

"That's... vague."

"I'm a visual guy. I like things I can see."

Jason laughs, a polite sound. "Fair enough. Any directors you admire?"

"Too many to list," Jungkook answers, and there's something in his voice now—a subtle tightness, like he's getting bored with the interrogation. "But hey, I'll give you one. Wong Kar-wai. His use of color and the way he frames longing? Unmatched."

You blink, a little surprised. Not by the answer itself—you know Jungkook's capable of actual intellectual thought, even if he pretends otherwise half the time—but by the genuine passion that briefly flares in his voice.

Jason nods, seeming genuinely impressed. "Interesting choice. 'In the Mood for Love' is a masterpiece."

"Yeah, it is." There's a beat, and then Jungkook adds, "What about you? You a film guy?"

"I appreciate it as an art form, but literature's my passion." Jason's hand moves from the gearshift to the steering wheel as he navigates a turn. "Though I teach a module on film adaptations of classic literature occasionally."

"Cool," Jungkook says, in a tone that suggests it's anything but. Then, abruptly changing the subject: "How'd you end up TA-ing for Y/N's class?"

You shoot Jungkook a look through the mirror. 

What is he doing?

"I'm not actually Y/N's TA," Jason clarifies smoothly. "I just run study groups for students across different modules. Help where I can."

"Just out of the goodness of your heart, huh?" 

“Something like that. Plus, it looks good on the CV."

You jump in, trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters. "Jason's been really helpful. I was drowning in all that Sylvia Plath symbolism before today."

"I'm sure he has," Jungkook murmurs, and when you catch his reflection again, his eyes are narrowed slightly, focused on the back of Jason's head.

Then the rest of the ride passes in a…strange, stilted rhythm—Jason asking questions, Jungkook giving just enough of an answer to seem polite before flipping the question back around. 

You filling the gaps with comments and questions of your own, trying to figure out why the air suddenly feels too… saturated?

By the time Jason pulls up to your apartment building, you're exhausted from the mental gymnastics of trying to parse what the fuck is happening.

"Here we are," Jason announces unnecessarily, putting the car in park. "Nice place."

Jungkook's door opens before the words are fully out of Jason's mouth. 

“Thanks for the ride, man," he says, climbing out with easy grace. But instead of heading straight for the building entrance, he pauses, one arm resting on the car roof, waiting.

For you.

Jason turns to you, one hand still on the wheel, the other now resting on the center console. "Listen, Y/N, I was wondering if you'd like to grab coffee sometime?”

He smiles, and you like the way the corner of his lip tugs upward genuinely, a dimple forming on it.

It’s cute.

It’s attractive.

Then he smiles. Gaze briefly flicks to Jungkook, then back to you, whispery. Adds: “Just the two of us, I mean."

Your stomach does a pleasant little flip because—wow. An attractive, intelligent guy who can discuss poetry without making dick jokes? Asking you for coffee? Like a date?

Is this real life?

"I'd like that," you say, smiling.

"How's Saturday? There's a café near campus that does incredible pour-overs."

Shit. Saturday. Jungkook's stupid surprise birthday dinner.

"I actually can't Saturday," you say, genuinely disappointed. "I have this... thing I can't get out of." No way are you telling him it's for Jungkook's birthday. "But maybe Sunday?"

"Sunday works." His hand moves then, fingers wrapping lightly around your wrist. "It's a date, then."

His touch is warm, brief, and makes your chest flutter. 

You nod, gathering your bag. "Thanks again for the ride. And the study help."

"Anytime."

Stepping out of the car, you see Jungkook still standing there, watching. His posture is relaxed, his expression unreadable as he pushes off from where he's been leaning against the car.

You walk over, and together, you head toward the building entrance. Jason's car idles behind you for a moment before pulling away, and only when the sound of his engine fades does Jungkook speak.

"I don't like him."

It's so abrupt, so matter-of-fact, that you almost laugh. 

"Okay? Did I ask?"

Jungkook doesn't respond right away. His lips press together, jaw tightening for a split second as you reach the elevator. He hits the up button with more force than necessary.

"He gives off vibes," he finally says, as the elevator doors slide open.

You step inside, hitting the button for your floor. 

“Vibes," you repeat flatly. "What are you, suddenly psychic or some shit?"

"Don't need to be psychic to see he's fucking weird."

The elevator begins its ascent, and you lean against the wall, eyeing him. 

“English major and almost a professor. Makes sense why you don't fuck with him, don't you think?"

Jungkook's head snaps toward you. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Just saying," you shrug, "you're clearly threatened by anyone with a vocabulary that extends beyond 'fuck' and 'vibes.'"

"Oh fuck off," he scoffs. "He's not that impressive."

"More impressive than you pretending to hate classic films to sound edgy."

His eyes narrow. "I never said I hated—"

"Whatever, Rogue. Keep your weird opinions to yourself. I'm going on a coffee date with him Sunday."

"Great," he says flatly. "Have fun with Professor Stick-Up-His-Ass."

The elevator dings. You push past him, digging in your bag for your keys.

"What is your problem?" you demand as you walk down the hallway. "He was perfectly nice. He gave us a ride home. He actually listens when people talk."

"I'm just saying I don't fuck with him."

"And what's that to me? Why do you think I care who you fuck with?"

"Nothing," Jungkook says, fumbling for his keys—so you stop rummaging through your bag. "I'm just stating my opinion. I'm allowed to not like people."

"Yeah, but you're telling me like I should care?" You follow him through the door. "Like your opinion matters to me somehow?"

"No?" He turns to face you. "I'm just fucking saying. That's it."

"Well, don't."

"Don't what? Talk?"

"Don't act like your shitty opinions on my social life matter."

The apartment feels too small suddenly. Like the walls are closing in. 

Why is it so hot in here? Did Yoongi crank the heat again? God, you're going to have another fight about the thermostat after this.

"Look," He sighs exasperatedly, and the sound makes you want to kick him on the shin. "I get it. He's all polished and proper and talks about dead poets with you. Fucking fantastic. I'm just telling you he seems like a fake-ass bitch."

"A fake-ass—what are you even talking about?" Your voice rises because what the actual fuck? "You're literally making shit up. He seems perfectly normal."

"Normal? Did you miss the way he kept cutting me off? Or that weird laugh thing he does?"

"Oh my god." You throw your bag onto the counter. "You're so full of shit. He was trying to keep the conversation going while you gave one-word answers like a sullen teenager."

"Yeah, because he kept asking me the same basic-ass questions like I'm in a job interview or some shit."

"It's called making conversation, dickhead. Something you clearly know nothing about."

Jungkook tosses his keys onto the counter with a clatter. "There's making conversation, and then there's whatever the fuck he was doing. Dude's weird. Period."

"He's weird? That's your whole argument? That's the hill you're choosing to die on?"

"You didn't catch it?" Jungkook looks at you like you're the dense one. "That whole thing about teaching 'occasionally?' The way he kept touching the gearshift? And the fucking wrist grab at the end? So fucking unnecessary.”

"Oh my god." You're actually laughing now, incredulous. "You sound completely unhinged. He barely touched me!"

"It's not about—" Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "It's the pattern, Nix. The whole vibe is off."

"The pattern? The vibe?" You mimic his voice. "Are you listening to yourself? You sound like a conspiracy theorist."

"Fine," he throws his hands up. "You're so fucking right, as always. Go hang out with Captain Control Freak. See if I give a shit."

"Captain Control—what are you even talking about?"

"Nothing. Forget it. Go on your little coffee date with Professor Perfect."

"Why are you being such a dick about this?" Your voice rises, frustration boiling over. "It's just coffee!"

"And I'm just saying he seems like an asshole!" Jungkook's voice matches yours now. "But sure, ignore me. What the fuck do I know, right?"

"Right! What the fuck DO you know? You met him for twenty minutes and suddenly you're an expert?"

"I know enough to spot a fucking red flag when I see one."

"A red flag? Are you kidding me?" You make an incredulous sound. "Because he has a nice car and uses big words? Those aren't red flags, those are called being an adult!"

"No, because he's putting on a whole act!" Jungkook's gesturing wildly now. "The scholarly bullshit, the fake interest, the—"

"Maybe he's actually interested in literature? Have you considered that possibility, genius?"

"Oh, I'm sure he's very interested in 'literature,'" Jungkook makes air quotes. "Along with controlling every fucking conversation and situation."

"You're being ridiculous." You give him a blank stare, accompanied by a chuckle. "Completely ridiculous."

"And you're being naive!" 

"No, I'm being NORMAL!" The word echoes off the kitchen walls. "You're the one having some weird meltdown over nothing!"

"It's not nothing! The dude's giving off major control freak energy and you're too busy swooning over his vocabulary to notice!"

"I am not swooning over anything!" 

"Whatever. You clearly can't see what's right in front of you."

"And you clearly can't handle not being the center of attention for five fucking minutes!"

Jungkook's eyebrows shoot up. "The center of—what? That's what you think this is about?"

"I don't know what it's about! That's my whole point!" You're making no sense!"

"I'm making perfect sense! You're just not listening!"

"Because you're not saying anything worth listening to!"

“Fine! Go ahead. Do whatever the fuck you want. It's your life."

"Yeah, it is my life. And you know what? I WILL do whatever the fuck I want."

"Great! Awesome! Have fun!"

"I will!"

"Good!"

"GOOD!"

You glare at each other, both breathing hard—and Griffin chooses that moment to saunter in, meowing loudly as if to say ‘what the fuck is all this noise about?’

"Your cat wants food," you snap, needing the last word.

"He's not just my cat, he lives here too," Jungkook fires back, because apparently he also needs the last word.

"Then maybe you should focus on feeding him instead of my social life."

"Maybe you should focus on not getting involved with pretentious assholes!"

"I live with one, so I think I can handle it!"

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you too."

You turn away, stomping toward your room. "You're such a jerk."

"And you're a stubborn bitch."

You flip him off without looking back, slamming your door with enough force to rattle the walls. You hear him mutter something through the thin wood—probably another insult—before the sound of cabinets opening and closing tells you he's probably feeding Griffin.

Dropping onto your bed, you stare at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what just happened. 

What the hell was that about? Since when does Jungkook care who you hang out with? And what the fuck was all that ‘vibes’ and ‘energy’ bullshit?

It shouldn't matter. 

It doesn't matter.

Except now there's this annoying doubt in the back of your head. 

Not because Jungkook's right—he's definitely not—but because he seemed so sure. So genuinely worked up about it. 

Not jealous, just... concerned? 

Angry? 

Something.

God, you need to get a grip. This is exactly what happens when you live with people too long. Their crazy starts to sound almost reasonable.

Jason is fine. He's normal. 

Jungkook is the one being insufferable and childish because he can’t stand not being the center of attention for five minutes.

So honestly? 

Fuck him.

You deserve to go on a date with someone who actually listens to what you have to say.

So you will.

And if he wants to whine about it, well. That’s his problem. Not yours. 

Staring at the confirmation email on your phone should not be making your stomach turn like this.

It's just an appointment. A totally normal, adult thing to do that people handle every day without breaking a sweat. Just another checkbox on the grand list of things labeled ‘Taking Care of Your Body’ that you've been putting off for... well, forever.

But there it is: Appointment with Dr. Camila Rivera, Wednesday, 4:45 PM.

You'd done it yesterday night, after the fight with Jungkook, after slamming your bedroom door hard enough to rattle the walls. 

You'd sat on your bed, fuming, and somehow that anger had propelled you toward something productive for once. A quick Google search for ‘gynecologist near me,’ a few clicks, and suddenly you had an appointment.

Easy-peasy. Totally casual.

Except it wasn't. Not really.

Because the truth is, you've never been to a gynecologist before. Not once in your life.

And it's not like you're some kind of prude. You're not. Just ask Jungkook. Or, you know, don't—his ego is inflated enough as it is. But the point stands: you're sexually active. You know your way around a condom. You're not completely clueless.

You're just... inexperienced in certain areas. 

Official areas. 

Medical areas.

Because going to a gynecologist meant telling your parents you needed to go to a gynecologist. Which meant admitting you were having sex. Which meant watching your mother's face crumple into that specific blend of disappointment and judgment she'd perfected over the years. The one that said, ‘I raised you better than this’ without her having to speak a word.

It was easier to just... not go. Stick with condoms. Cross your fingers. Hope for the best.

But things are different now. You're living on your own. Making your own decisions. Sleeping with your insufferable roommate whenever the mood strikes. Planning coffee dates with hot TAs who might—if things go well—become another notch on your metaphorical bedpost.

The thought sends a little thrill through you. 

Jason. With his deep voice and thoughtful gaze and ability to analyze poetry without sounding like a pretentious asshole. Would he be different in bed than Jungkook? Less demanding, maybe. More measured. Or maybe he'd surprise you.

God, when did your brain become so fixated on sex? 

That's what freedom feels like, you tell yourself, stretching your legs out across your bed. It's natural. Healthy, even. You've spent years living under your parents' suffocating expectations—their carefully crafted vision of who you should be, the life you should lead, the choices you should make. Always excelling, always proper, always in control.

Well, fuck that. You're done being controlled.

Hence, the appointment. 

Because if you're going to be sexually liberated (the phrase makes you cringe a little, even though it's just in your head), you should probably be responsible about it. Birth control pills, or maybe an IUD—something more reliable than condoms alone. 

Something that puts you in control of your body, for once.

That's what this is really about, isn't it? Control. Wresting it back from the people who've held it for too long. 

Your parents. Their expectations. Their constant, stifling presence even when they're miles away.

You glance at the time on your phone: 3:32 PM. About an hour before you need to leave.

And suddenly, your chest feels tight. Because while making the appointment had been an act of defiance, of independence—actually going feels different. More real. More intimidating.

You've done your research. Read all the ‘What to expect at your first gynecology appointment’ articles online. You know it will involve questions about your sexual history (complicated), your family medical history (boring), and a physical exam (terrifying).

The problem is, you'd planned to ask Yeji to go with you. She'd been to gynecologists before. She'd know what to expect, how to act, what was normal. But she texted this morning to say she'd caught some stomach bug and could barely make it to the bathroom, let alone across town to a doctor's office.

Which leaves you... alone. 

And you shouldn't need someone to hold your hand through this. You're an adult, for fuck's sake. People do this all the time.

But the anxiety bubbling in your stomach doesn't care about logic. It's there, persistent and nagging, making you wonder if you should just cancel and reschedule for when Yeji's feeling better.

No. That's the old you talking. The you that let other people's expectations dictate your life. You need to do this, and you need to do it today.

But maybe you don't have to do it alone.

Jimin is in class right now. Emma's too far away. 

And you and Jungkook are still not talking.

You glance at your bedroom wall, the one that separates your room from Yoongi's. He's home today—you heard him shuffling around earlier, the familiar sound of his bedroom door closing, his music faintly filtering through the walls.

Yoongi's different from Jungkook. Quieter. More observant. He doesn't waste words or gestures. He doesn't fill silences just to hear himself talk.

Would it be weird to ask him? Probably. But also... maybe not. 

Yoongi has this way of making the strangest things seem normal, simply by refusing to treat them as strange.

Before you can overthink it any further, you're on your feet, moving toward your bedroom door, then to Yoongi's. Your knuckles rap against the wood before your brain can catch up with your body and tell you what a ridiculous idea this is.

There's a pause. Then shuffling. Then Yoongi's voice, slightly muffled: "Yeah?"

You open the door tentatively. Yoongi's seated at his desk, headphones on, one ear now pulled back as he swivels in his chair to face you. His expression is neutral—not annoyed, exactly, but definitely interrupted. Behind him, his computer screen glows with what looks like a complex audio editing program, tracks upon tracks stacked neatly in multicolored rows.

"Hey, sorry to bother you," you start, hovering in the doorway. "I, uh, I was wondering..."

Yoongi blinks at you, his gaze tracking over your face for barely two seconds before his eyes narrow slightly.

"What's wrong?" he asks, and just like that, you hesitate.

Is it that obvious? Do you have ‘first-time gynecologist panic’ stamped on your forehead in neon letters? God, this is embarrassing.

"Nothing's wrong," you say, too quickly. "I just—" You take a breath. "I have a doctor's appointment, and I was supposed to go with Yeji, but she's sick, and—"

"What kind of doctor?" Yoongi's already slipping his headphones off, setting them on his desk.

"Gynecologist," you admit, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. 

You brace for awkwardness, for judgment, for that subtle shift in his expression that says this conversation just got weird.

It doesn't come.

"When's the appointment?" he asks instead, like you just told him you're seeing a dentist.

"Four forty-five."

Yoongi glances at his computer screen, then back at you. A slight furrow appears between his brows—not judgmental, more like he's calculating something.

"Is it your first time?"

Your mouth opens, then closes. 

Is there a neon sign above your head that says ‘VIRGIN TO WOMEN'S HEALTHCARE’ blinking in hot pink? How does everyone just know these things about you?

"Yeah," you admit, heat creeping up your neck. "First time."

Yoongi nods like this confirms a theory. "I can take you."

You blink at him, confused by the easy offer. "You don't have to—"

"I've done it before," he says with a small shrug. "My sisters. Lost count of how many times I've sat in waiting rooms while they got checked out."

"Your sisters?" This is new information. Yoongi has barely mentioned his family in the few weeks you've lived together.

"Two of them," he says, shrugging. “Older and younger. They'd kill me if they knew I was calling them a pain in my ass, but..." A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "Pain in my ass."

"I didn't know you had sisters," you say, still hovering in the doorway, surprised by this glimpse into his life.

"East Village, you said?" He inquires, stretching his arms over his head. "On 14th?"

"Yeah, but—seriously, you don't have to. I can go alone. It's fine."

Yoongi looks at you, really looks at you, his gaze direct but not unkind. "But you don't want to. That's why you're here. Give me ten minutes to finish this section, and we'll go."

The simplicity of it knocks the air from your lungs. 

No questions about why you need to go, why you can't go alone. 

Just acceptance. 

Just help.

"Thanks," you manage, your voice smaller than intended.

Yoongi makes a sound—something between a grunt and a hum—that you interpret as 'you're welcome' before focusing back on his work. You linger for a moment, uncertain, before backing out of the room and gently closing the door.

Fifteen minutes later, you're sitting next to Yoongi in an Uber, your knee bouncing nervously as you watch the city blur past the window. 

You've barely spoken since leaving the apartment, the silence between you not uncomfortable but definitely... present.

"Have you been to this doctor before?" Yoongi asks suddenly, his voice quiet in the confines of the car.

You shake your head. "First time."

"First time ever?"

There's no judgment in his tone, just curiosity, but you still feel a flush creep up your neck. "Yeah. My parents were... strict."

Yoongi nods like this makes perfect sense. "Mine too. Different things, though."

"Like what?"

He shrugs, his shoulder lifting in a smooth, controlled motion. "Music. They wanted the classical route—Juilliard, orchestra, all that. Not producing. Definitely not hip hop."

"But you did it anyway."

A small smile quirks the corner of his mouth. "Eventually. Took a while."

There's more to it, you can tell. You recognize it because it mirrors your own experiences—the rebellion, the constant calculation of how much you can take without being taken from.

"Are your sisters musicians too?" you ask, curious about these siblings he's mentioned.

His eyebrows lift slightly, like he's surprised you're interested enough to ask. "Mina and Soonhee? Nah, they got different rules. Mina's older—she got to do dance, no questions asked. Soonhee's the baby—she's in med school now, but she did competitive cheerleading through high school. I was the only one who got the 'practical career' lectures."

"That's fucked up."

He huffs a laugh, soft and low. "Yeah. Parents, man."

"So how'd you end up being the gynecologist escort service?"

This time, the laugh is fuller, unexpected enough that the driver glances in the rearview mirror. "Soonhee. She was seventeen, terrified of going alone, and didn't want our mom knowing yet. So I took her." He shrugs again. "After that, it was just... normal. Picked her up from appointments sometimes when our parents were working. Drove Mina a few times too."

Something about this image—Yoongi, quiet and steady, sitting in a waiting room while his sisters get their reproductive health sorted—makes your chest warm.

"That's... really nice of you."

"It's not a big deal." He says it so simply, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "That's what family does."

The car slows as you approach your destination, and suddenly the nerves are back, coiling tight in your stomach. 

This is happening. You're really doing this.

Yoongi must sense the shift because he looks at you, his gaze direct but gentle. "They'll ask a lot of questions. Some feel invasive, but they're just doing their job. If you don't know an answer, that's okay. If something feels wrong or hurts too much, speak up. Don't just endure it."

"Okay," you whisper, and for a moment, the two of you just look at each other—you, the girl who's spent her life trying to be perfect, and him, the boy who's learned to create his own definition of it.

The car stops. The driver announces your arrival. Yoongi nods once, decisive.

"Let's go."

The waiting room is exactly what you expected: too-bright lighting, uncomfortable chairs, ancient magazines, and the faint smell of disinfectant.

What you didn't expect is how much calmer you feel with Yoongi beside you, his presence steady as you fill out paperwork on a clipboard.

"Family medical history," you mutter, scanning the form. "Like I'm supposed to know if my great-aunt had ovarian cancer."

"Just write what you know," Yoongi says, not looking up from his phone where he's responding to what looks like a work email. "They mostly want the big stuff."

You nod, focusing back on the form.

Name, date of birth, insurance information (thank god your parents still have you on their plan, even if they'd probably have a collective aneurysm if they knew what you were using it for), medications (none), allergies (none), sexual history...

Your pen hovers over the ‘number of sexual partners’ field.

Two, technically. 

One in freshman year—David, your boyfriend for all of three months, who'd been sweet but forgettable—and now Jungkook, who is... neither of those things.

Not that anyone needs to know about that particular arrangement. 

Especially not Yoongi, who lives with both of you and would make things weird if he knew. 

It's bad enough that he might hear things through the walls sometimes—though you've been careful, for the most part. Extra careful.

Because what you and Rogue have isn't something that needs to be analyzed or discussed or turned into some big thing. It's just sex. Convenient, mind-blowing, occasionally wall-banging sex. No strings, no expectations, no complications.

And honestly, there's something almost thrilling about the secrecy of it all. The way you can brush past Jungkook in the kitchen while Yoongi's there, both of you acting like you didn't have your legs wrapped around his waist twelve hours earlier. 

The control of it. 

The power in knowing something no one else does.

Soon to be three partners, maybe, if things go well with Jason. 

The thought sends an unexpected twinge through you. Not guilt, exactly, but something adjacent to it.

"You know," Yoongi says suddenly, his voice low, "I never asked why you wanted to come here today."

You glance up, surprised. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Sure. But there are lots of reasons people go to gynecologists." His eyes remain on his phone, giving you the space to answer without the weight of his gaze. "Regular check-ups. STI testing. Birth control. Problems."

"All of the above?" you say, aiming for a joke but landing somewhere closer to honesty. "Mostly birth control, though. I've been... thinking about it for a while."

And it’s true, because condoms, while effective, aren't foolproof. 

Not that you're telling Yoongi that you're sleeping with anyone, let alone Jungkook, let alone possibly Jason soon.

Some things are better kept private. Safer that way. No one's business but your own.

Yoongi nods. "Smart."

That's it. No lecture about being careful, no brotherly concern about who you might be sleeping with, no judgment about your choices. Just: smart.

"Thanks," you say, and you mean it for more than just the compliment.

"Soonhee has an IUD," he offers casually. "Says it's been good for her. Less to remember."

You blink, caught off guard by how easily he's discussing this. "I was thinking about that. Or maybe the pill."

"Makes sense." He mumbles, typing into his phone now. "Mina did the implant thing—the arm one? She had mood swings at first, but they evened out."

You're about to ask another question when a nurse calls your name. 

Suddenly, your heart is in your throat again, the clipboard clutched in your sweaty hand.

"You'll be fine," Yoongi says, taking the clipboard from you with gentle fingers. "I'll be right here."

You stand, smoothing down your shirt with shaky hands. "This is weird, right? You barely know me."

Yoongi looks up at you, calm but thoughtful. "Not that weird. We live together. That counts for something."

Something about his words steadies you. 

You've lived with your parents for most of your life—but this is the first time it's felt like more than just sharing space. 

Like there's something about proximity that builds its own kind of trust, its own kind of care.

"Thanks, Yoongi," you say again, meaning it more with each repetition.

He nods once, then returns to his phone, the conversation complete.

As you follow the nurse down the hallway, you realize something surprising: you're glad it's Yoongi out there waiting. Not Yeji, not Jimin, not anyone else.

Just Yoongi—quiet, steady, unfazed by the messiness of being human.

And for the first time since moving in, you think maybe, just maybe, this apartment isn't just a place you live.

Maybe, in some small way, it's becoming home.

Your entire life, you’ve been told what to do with your body.

Stand up straight. Smile more. Don’t eat that. Wear this. Be modest. Be pretty. Be better. Smaller. Quieter. More.

It’s a strange feeling, sitting on the edge of an exam table in a paper gown that crinkles with every breath, realizing that for perhaps the first time, you’re making a decision entirely for yourself. 

About yourself. 

By yourself.

Dr. Rivera is nothing like you imagined. You’d pictured someone older, stern, clinical. Someone who would make you feel childish and naive. 

Instead, she’s maybe mid-thirties, with a warm smile and dark curls pulled back in a bun. She sits on a rolling stool, reviewing your forms, asking questions in a voice that somehow manages to feel both professional and conspiratorial—like you’re both in on something important together.

“So this is your first time seeing a gynecologist?” she asks, looking up from her tablet.

You nod, resisting the urge to cross your arms over your chest, to make yourself smaller under her gaze. “Yeah.”

“Any particular reason you decided to come in now?”

Do you tell her that you’ve been having casual sex with your roommate? That you’re hoping to add a handsome TA to the rotation? That after years of letting other people—parents, professors, partners—dictate what you should do, you’re finally deciding for yourself?

“I want to start birth control,” you say instead, aiming for casual confidence but hearing the slight waver in your voice. “Something reliable.”

She nods, no judgment in her expression. “Have you been thinking about any particular method?”

“I’ve been researching a few. The pill, IUDs…”

“IUDs are excellent long-term options,” she says, setting her tablet aside. “Both hormonal and non-hormonal varieties have their advantages. The hormonal ones can help with period symptoms—lighter bleeding, less cramping. The copper one doesn’t have hormones, so there are no hormonal side effects, but periods can be heavier, especially at first.”

You’ve read all of this online, but somehow hearing it from an actual doctor makes it feel more real. 

More possible.

“How long have you been sexually active?” 

“A few years,” you say, the vagueness intentional. “Not consistently.”

“Using condoms?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Remember that birth control protects against pregnancy, but condoms protect against STIs. It’s always good to use both unless you’re in a mutually monogamous relationship and have both been tested.”

You nod, like a good student receiving familiar information. But inside, something tightens. Because you haven’t been tested. Not really. Just the standard blood work at check-ups. 

Another thing to add to the list of adult responsibilities you’re finally catching up on.

“I’d like to do a pelvic exam and Pap smear today, if that’s okay with you,” Dr. Rivera continues. “It’s recommended for women your age, and it will help us make sure everything looks healthy before we proceed with birth control.”

The exam succeeds.

And in itself it is… well, not pleasant, exactly, but not as terrible as you’d feared. 

Dr. Rivera talks you through each step—the speculum (cold, but not painful), the swabs (quick, a little uncomfortable), the manual exam (weird pressure, but over quickly). 

It’s not dignified, but it’s not humiliating either. Just necessary. Clinical. Part of being a woman with a body that needs maintenance and care.

Afterward, as you sit back up, adjusting the paper gown around your knees, she asks, “So, were you thinking you’d like to start birth control today, or did you want some time to think about options?”

“Today,” you say, the word coming out more confident than you feel. Then, because honesty seems important here: “I’m afraid if I wait, I’ll talk myself out of it.”

Dr. Rivera’s smile is understanding. “That happens more often than you’d think. If you’re interested in an IUD, I could insert one today. We have both hormonal and copper options in stock.”

Your heart jumps a little. You hadn’t expected to actually do this today. You’d thought there would be more steps, more time, more chances to second-guess yourself.

“The copper one,” you say, a decision forming as the words leave your mouth. “I’ve been reading about it. I like that there are no hormones, and that it works right away.”

“The ParaGard,” she nods. “It’s effective for up to twelve years, though you can have it removed anytime. The insertion can be uncomfortable—some women experience cramping during and after the procedure. Are you on your period now?”

You shake your head.

“That’s fine. Some doctors prefer to insert during menstruation because the cervix is naturally a bit more open, but it’s not necessary. We can do it today if you’re sure.”

Are you?

Are you sure you want to make this decision, right now, without more time to think? 

Are you sure you’re ready for this level of control, this level of commitment to your own autonomy?

The voice in your head that prompts those questions sounds suspiciously like your mother’s—whispers that maybe you should wait. Think more. Ask someone else’s opinion. Perhaps this is too rushed, too impulsive.

But then another voice rises—your own voice, tired of being drowned out—saying that you’ve thought enough. 

That waiting is just another form of letting fear make your decisions for you.

That you know what you want. 

“I’m sure,” you say, and the words feel like a declaration of independence.

Dr. Rivera walks you through the procedure, what to expect, potential side effects, when to call if something feels wrong. She’s thorough without being patronizing, clear without being alarming. By the time she leaves to gather the necessary materials, your nervousness has dissipated, and all you’re left feeling is an odd sort of calm.

This is happening. You’re choosing this. For yourself. By yourself.

And then, the actual insertion.

Which, just like the exam, isn’t pleasant. 

There’s pain—sharp, sudden, deep—as the IUD passes through your cervix. A cramping that radiates outward, making you gasp and grip the edges of the exam table. But it’s over faster than you expected, though the cramping lingers.

“You did great,” Dr. Rivera says, stripping off her gloves. “The cramping should ease up in a day or two. Ibuprofen will help. And remember what we discussed about checking the strings, about when to call if something doesn’t feel right.”

You nod, absorbing the information through the haze of discomfort and, oddly enough, a strange sense of triumph. 

Because you did it. You came here, you made a choice, and you followed through. No one told you to. No one had to approve. Just you, deciding what happens to your body.

It’s a small thing, maybe. Basic healthcare that thousands of women access every day. But to you, in this moment, it feels monumental.

“Thank you,” you say, meaning it deeply.

Dr. Rivera smiles, like she understands exactly what you’re thanking her for. 

“Take your time getting dressed. The nurse will bring you some information to take home, and I’ll see you for a follow-up in a few weeks to make sure everything’s settling in well.”

When she leaves, you sit there for a moment longer, one hand resting lightly on your lower abdomen. 

There’s something in there now, something you chose, something working for you without you having to think about it. 

Protection. Freedom. Agency.

It hurts, yes. 

But it’s a hurt with purpose. 

A discomfort you’re enduring for yourself, not for anyone else.

As you dress slowly, careful of the cramping that makes you wince, you think about all the times you’ve twisted yourself into shapes that pleased others. All the choices you’ve surrendered in the name of being good, being agreeable, being what everyone else wanted.

Not this time.

This time, you chose you.

Yoongi doesn’t ask questions when you emerge, moving slightly slower than before, your face a little paler. He just stands, tucks his phone into his pocket, and falls into step beside you as you make your way out of the clinic.

“Need anything?” he asks simply as you wait for the Uber outside.

You consider for a moment. “Ice cream, maybe.”

He nods, like this is the most reasonable request in the world. “There’s a good place three blocks from here. If you’re up for the walk.”

The cramping is uncomfortable but manageable—and your need for something sweet and creamy is too compelling to deny it.

“Yeah,” you say, adjusting your course to fall in beside him. “I’m up for it.”

You can’t help but think how strange really life is.

How you’re walking through the East Village with Yoongi, a copper IUD safely nestled in your uterus, making decisions that have nothing to do with what anyone else thinks you should do.

It feels like freedom. 

It feels like growing up. 

It feels, for the first time in a long while, like your life is actually yours.

Maybe that’s worth a little discomfort.

goal: 300 notes and this time I am not lowering the bar

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© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[jinxie-117]

Shin Soukoku: Why BSD cannot be told without Atsushi and Akutagawa

How's everyone feeling after chapter 121.5? Pretty great, right? Pretty SSKK-brained, right? Well, I've got good news for you - Atsushi and Akutagawa are absolutely the emotional core of Bungou Stray Dogs.

That's right chat - whether you ship them or not, these two are absolutely fundamental to the entirety of BSD. Take whatever perspective you want on them - as lovers, as friends, as rivals who despise each other fundamentally but learn to trust one another - these two and their relationship cannot be separated from the overarching themes of their tale.

Naturally, I will be using the mainline manga as reference, as I believe it to be the best source for the overall story of BSD as well as information on Akutagawa and Atsushi's characters (since the light novels and spinoff mangas tend to focus predominantly on characters like Dazai and Chuuya, and BEAST doesn't count). Obviously, spoilers for everything. So, with that in mind, let's begin:

What is BSD about?

Many people would agree that one of the main themes of Bungou Stray Dogs is the value of a human life. Numerous characters struggle with issues surrounding their right to even be alive (Atsushi, Dazai, Akutagawa, Kyouka, Yosano, I mean the list goes on), their status as a human being (Dazai, Chuuya, Akutagawa, Sigma, and arguably Fyodor), or the amount of life required to be taken in order for the 'greater good' (most specifically the conflict between Fukuzawa and Fukuchi, but also Fyodor).

Pretty much every character in Bungou Stray Dogs struggles with some sort of suicidality or has assigned themselves a purpose that they must never stray from (Kunikida and his ideals come to mind - he believes he should not live unless he can follow the exact principles that he has composed for himself), causing them to equate the value of their lives to this one purpose.

It makes sense, then, that three of the most major villains we've had so far - Fitzgerald, Fyodor, and Fukuchi - have their own ways of cheating death: Fitzgerald in his quest to use the Book and resurrect his daughter, Fyodor with his ability, and Fukuchi with Shintou Amenogozen. What's more, all of them aim to cause immense loss of life (Fyodor is willing to kill anyone and everyone in pursuit of purging sin, Fitzgerald didn't mind loss of life in pursuit of money, power, and access to the Book, and although Fukuchi is ultimately on a smaller scale, he still aimed to kill a large number of people in order to achieve his ideal of peace). The value of a human life is the most sacred thing in this world, and so being able to cheat your own death while causing many others is naturally the most evil thing to do by this world's rules.

A final thing to note that, despite every character believing in some divine (especially in Fyodor's case) purpose for themselves that will finally give their life value, this purpose tends to cause more harm to themselves and others than they would care to admit. Kunikida's ideals especially (I keep using him as an example, it's because I recently read Dazai's entrance exam lmao) are emphasised as ridiculous and overdone, and his rigidity frequently causes him harm. This self-destruction brought on by purpose will become especially relevant as we move on to discuss our two beautiful boys:

Atsushi Nakajima: Useless Self-Pity

News to the people of the world - Atsushi is my favourite character in all of Bungou Stray Dogs. He is perfect to me and I love him. Many people I encounter on the internet have some sort of quantum beef with this man, which I can only assume is because they see in him that their own self-hatred and pity can cause harm, and get extremely butthurt about the fact that self-flagellating does nothing for them. I, however, have no such qualms, and thus I can see that he is certified peak.

One of Atsushi's major flaws, despite all his kindnesses, is that he cannot fathom a reason why he should be allowed to live, and constantly searches for that reason in other people. For a long time, he based his entire worth around the orphanage headmaster's opinion of him, as he was his only involved guardian - and thus, as a result of his abuse, believed himself worthless. Upon leaving home (or more accurately, being forcibly removed), he no longer had a purpose to live, but his survival instincts kept him alive for long enough to meet Dazai.

Meeting Dazai and joining the detective agency was only a short solace - because Atsushi, who wanted to live but truly believed that he did not deserve to, was now on the hunt for a new reason to live: protecting others.

It makes sense that in a high-stakes environment that Atsushi sees the only value of his life as protecting other people. This is first demonstrated during his entrance exam, in chapter two, when this freak of nature jumps on top of a bomb in order to protect the people around him. This seems to earn him approval from others (which he believes is his reason to live, for people to give him their approval and thus confirm he is allowed to exist), so he begins to participate in more battles and save more people's lives and generally act in defence of other people in order to earn his right to be alive.

There is more to be said here, but maybe I'll make a post only about Atsushi some other time. Moving on, one of the main drawbacks of Atsushi's desperation to live and his belief that he needs to protect others, is that he suffers from his main weakness in times of stress - dwelling on the past. Despite possessing the capability to protect and fulfil his purpose, Atsushi will freeze up and begin to spiral into self-hatred whenever anything goes wrong for him.

This is most obvious in the latest chapters, when witnessing all of his friends in the ADA die at the hands of Ame No Gozen and Dostoevsky. He seems entirely unable to take any action and fight back, believing his foe to be insurmountable, despite Fyodor's confirmation that this may not be the case:

So, we've established Atsushi's weakness as his inaction, passivity, and self-hatred. It makes him often useless in battle, and prevents him from creating a purpose for himself and interacting with the value of his life in a healthy way. Instead of protecting others and maintaining his own self worth, he fails to protect others, demolishes his self worth, and thus attempts increasingly dangerous and reckless ways to prove that his life has value. Most notably uh....

This suicide is demonstrative of Atsushi's terrible self-image. He foolishly believes that his life will have value if he literally kills himself, despite the fact that his life will no longer have value if he cannot do anything with it. Atsushi's belief that self-sacrifice is noble when he should be aiming to preserve as many lives as possible, including his own, is the culmination of every scrap of self-hatred he's been developing over the course of the entire story.

However, this can also be perceived also a good act - for once, Atsushi takes action instead of protecting mindlessly, and I will get into how this relates back to Akutagawa and how he teaches him how to take action instead of dwelling on the past, but that's for a later section. Either way, this act of self-sacrifice is both Atsushi moving onward in his character arc - learning how to take action in times of stress, instead of standing still, but also remaining stagnant - he refuses to preserve his own life, preferring instead to sacrifice it in the name of his purpose.

So, to move things along...

Ryuunosuke Akutagawa: Mindless Self-Servitude

More news to the world - you're never gonna guess which BSD character I relate to the most. This freak. This section will hopefully be a little shorter because this post is really dragging on, but no promises!

Akutagawa was very dissociated for the first years of his life - but he still had a purpose right up until his friends died. Being the strongest in his group of children in the slums, he was their assigned protector, and believed this to be his only purpose. It is the loss of this purpose that managed to break the haze around his emotions and first experience hatred - before it causes him to realise he has no reason to go on.

Immediately, Akutagawa takes up a new purpose - to prove his strenght to Dazai. Dazai personally tailors this purpose himself, ensuring that Akutagawa's entire sense of self-worth is dependent on him, willing to sacrifice any hope or joy that he might have had a chance at feeling. At the same time, however, Akutagawa despises Dazai for his treatment, being at least partially cognisant of his abuse, and wishes to kill him - thus creating a paradox in which he shall always wish to destroy his reason for live, but never be able to out of fear of losing said reason to live.

It is pretty important to note that I do not think Akutagawa wishes to die, unlike Atsushi who wholly believes that he should. Rather, Akutagawa becomes what he sees as a heartless monster when he is without a purpose, and thinks that he shall rot away on his own without one, as he believed that he did as a child in the slums, one day away from death at all times (now no longer being wholly aware that he was a fierce protector and once saw that as his reason to live). As a result, he adopts a philosophy that Dazai introduces him to - that the weak shall die, and the strong shall live, and that he better hope to be strong.

So, Akutagawa's worst weakness is that he despises the weak and will quickly and recklessly cut them down, refusing to sheath his sword, as he believes those strong enough to be worthy of life shall be able to hold their own against him in battle. Rather, instead of diminishing his own life in pursuit of saving others, Akutagawa diminishes others' lives in pursuit of saving his own. He acts recklessly and impulsively, underestimating his foes, the opposite of how Atsushi acts. He is actively called out on this by Pushkin upon encountering him:

To rub salt in the wound, earlier this chapter Atsushi calls him out on it multiple times, and Dazai calls him out on it for about... two years straight. So we can parse that Akutagawa really doesn't know how to slow down or quit, always dealing with the present and the now, believing that mass destruction will be a proof of his strength that he can then demonstrate to Dazai and earn his right to live.

This purpose, however, actively harms Akutagawa - in particular, it removes from him his humanity. He is repeatedly referred to as some kind of dog (see: the heartless cur, the silent mad dog, the black-fanged hellhound, the list goes on), and treated like his only use is to fight - which he genuinely believes, and so exists only to hurt and fight others. This causes a vicious cycle - Akutagawa hurts others recklessly -> gets called out on hurting others recklessly and denounced as a dog that doesn't know how to do anything else -> he internalises this idea of not knowing how to do anything but kill -> he continues to hurt others recklessly.

So, we have Akutagawa who will kill others to prove he is strong and thus allowed to live, and Atsushi who will kill himself to prove that he can protect and thus allowed to live. What a pair! So let's get onto the main event that shouldn't have taken this long.

Shin Soukoku: To me, you've always had a right to live

This post isn't about it, but the amount of panels these two have together where they are perfectly mirroring each other is wholly unsubtle. I've never seen anything like it. It is totally ridiculous.

To create an effective narrative foil, one must first create as many similarities between two characters as they can. So let's begin:

Both studied under Dazai

Both struggle with a flimsy reason to live

Both have all-devouring beasts that can cut through things most people wouldn't be able to as their ability

Both think themselves worthless save for one thing

Both are haunted by pasts of physical abuse that cause violence to be their accepted norm

Both feel their emotions very strongly

There's more but I've been at this post for two hours

These similarities, especially the one surrounding their reason to live, are very accessibly noticed in another human being. Overall, both of these two need to learn how to dispense of their current reasons to live, which tend to hinge on another person and a set of narrow-minded ideas (in Atsushi's case, protecting everybody, and in Akutagawa's, the strong needing to defeat the weak).

As a result of being able to notice these flaws very easily in another (having only subconsciously noticed it in themselves), these two do not get along, and repeatedly call each other out on foolish behaviour, enabling each other to improve. This looks slightly different on either side, so I'll go one-by-one.

Let's begin with Atsushi's side of the deal, because I talked about him first. As we established earlier, what he needs to learn is to take action, stop dwelling on his past, and view his life as something worth holding onto, as all human life has value.

The one thing Akutagawa absolutely despises about Atsushi is his absolute unwillingness to take any action at all.

Akutagawa, who is so used to moving forward and fighting and acting in the now, hates Atsushi for being able to dwell on his past and still have Dazai's approval. It fills him with complete and utter rage, and so he unwittingly motivates Atsushi to learn how to take proper action.

Another example is on the boat, when Atsushi's resolve is failing, and he comes to assist.

Ah, the famous line. Unironically though, it is perfectly demonstrative of Akutagawa's ability to instil self-confidence in Atsushi and motivate him into taking action - which does work later on when Atsushi saves Akutagawa from an inevitable death at the hands of Fukuchi, allowing them both to escape with their lives (for now):

So, good job Akutagawa! You've managed to teach Atsushi the power of not sitting around being dead miserable, not doing anything about the things that are visibly going wrong all around him. You know, I bet this won't have any other consequences for both you and him!

Oh, hey, Akutagawa. Guess what else you taught him:

So. We've already established why this is kind of an... issue. But as we can visibly see, Atsushi is able to take action. For the first time in several chapters, he is motivated by the prospective death of the man who warned against his passivity, into acting, not sitting by and watching everybody he cares for die, acting. Akutagawa, whose recklessness and impulsivity Atsushi once criticised, seems to be the one thing that enables him to take action after a period of extreme self-doubt and passivity.

This is especially special because Atsushi is motivated into this action by hallucination Dazai, who was once the hallucination of the orphanage director - who is now, at least implicitly, revealed to be Byakko, or Atsushi's tiger (if I am proven wrong on this then it's SO joever but whatever my theory still holds up). Throughout the entire story, Byakko is used as a metaphor for Atsushi's self-image (which I will possibly go into in another post because I'll be here all day if I do it now). So, if hallucination Dazai motivates Atsushi into acting, that means that Akutagawa has pressured him enough that he has literally permanently altered his self-concept. Insane.

Another thing that Akutagawa criticises Atsushi for is his belief that other people need to be protected, and that he can destroy himself for the sake of others, and thus earn a right to live. He demonstrates this particularly in chapter 35:

Akutagawa's main philosophy is that he who is the strongest shall come out on top, and that sacrificing anything for others is useless. So, he's (still in the process of) teaching Atsushi how to live for himself and look out for himself, which he is able to do whenever they fight against each other, and also when they fight with others - the combination of their abilities is incredibly powerful, and also represents Akutagawa giving up his defences and giving them to Atsushi, thus teaching him how to look out for himself.

This absolutely comes to fruition when Akutagawa sacrifices himself for Atsushi on the boat against Fukuchi and tells him to get away while he still can - however you slice it, he is unintentionally teaching Atsushi that he has the right to live and that Akutagawa is willing to die for it - that it doesn't matter if he protects or if he doesn't, that no matter what happens, he deserves to live. And these guys hate each other! What the hell???

Another thing to note is that now that Atsushi is presumably dead from Akutagawa's POV, he is very visibly devastated, even being able to recall his memories upon seeing the man who he fought so hard to defend take his own life. Should they reunite, I imagine that Akutagawa will be at least slightly angry with Atsushi for sacrificing himself like that - thus moving his arc of self-preservation forward.

Now, let's move onto Akutagawa's side of the deal, after that incredibly long amount of time spent on Atsushi's end.

Akutagawa believes that he does not have the right to go on unless he can prove his strength, specifically to Dazai, and does this via cutting down anything in his path.

Atsushi cannot shut up about how idiotic Akutagawa's impulsivity is. We see this on several occasions, the usually kind Atsushi devolving into downright bitchiness at points:

These are only two examples, because I didn't want to have to go chapter hopping that many times. Sorry chat.

Regardless, Akutagawa needs to be taught how to take things slow and learn how to preserve life instead of absolutely demolishing it. This comes to fruition via the six-month promise that Atsushi forces him to make, playing upon Akutagawa's principles and forcing him to not kill anyone for several months. Akutagawa begrudgingly follows through, and ends up successfully managing it right up until his death at the hands of Fukuchi. In addition, it could be argued that this same impulse-control Atsushi insists on inspiring in Akutagawa is what allows him to be able to stay hidden through most of the terrorist arc. Had the promise not existed, he likely would have killed to get his way, and ended up mistakenly revealed.

So, similar to how Akutagawa unintentionally motivates Atsushi to take action, Atsushi unintentionally motivates Akutagawa to slow things down and avoid impulsively killing. He is able to ensure Akutagawa's sword is sheathed when necessary, a feat that even Dazai couldn't achieve.

In addition, while I'd say the 'Dazai's approval' conflict is still in murky waters with Akutagawa, as he's only just recalled Atsushi and it's unclear if he's recalled anything else, Atsushi unwittingly motivates Akutagawa into reducing his impulsivity by allowing him to realise that Dazai won't be pleased by it:

While this exchange can be interpreted as Akutagawa resigning himself to Dazai's hatred of him, we do see him later postpone the killing of the two guards, both because this mission is literally made to work against him (if the guards die, a signal is sent out) and because Atsushi is constantly pulling him up on his shit.

In addition to this, Atsushi teaches Akutagawa a very important thing - that the lives of the weak matter. This is such an insane breakthrough for Akutagawa's character, also represented by the six-month promise. Despite how he's operated all this time, he learns to see Atsushi - who he has perceived as weak all this time due to his constant self pity - as a valuable ally and a life that matters, even sacrificing himself for him in the end.

Akutagawa sacrificing himself for Atsushi is such an insane move because he has never conceptualised something close to doing anything like that before, not once in his life. Atsushi, through all they have been through together, has reawakened the protective instinct in him that hasn't been active since he was a child. This is directly after Fukuchi attempts to convince him to work for him, too - right after he promises strength and Dazai's approval and everything Akutagawa has ever wanted.

Indeed, his life is that important. It is directly after this exchange that Akutagawa and Atsushi are able to trust each other to launch the surprise attack on Fukuchi, only stopped by the fact that his sword can literally exist outside of space and time. For the life of a weak man, Akutagawa gives up all he ever wanted. He gives up Dazai's approval, which he says that he fears dying without. He gives up a chance to become stronger. He gives up his life, which he so desperately wants to live. All for a weak man. All for somebody who he doesn't believe should live, if he cannot beat another in battle.

This is especially evident in the fact that despite the fact he's lost all of his memories, Akutagawa still adheres to the promise that he made to Atsushi. He has learned to respect the weak enough that he refuses to take a life, even when he is visibly winning in battle. And even though he was inspired by Bram, I would like to point out that Akutagawa has sworn his sword to protect others now, a promise that he will still likely adhere to despite the fact he now retains his memories - after all, we still see him in his knight getup at the end of S5E11, which is at least partially symbolic of his pledge.

In addition, Akutagawa is a character who is likely foreign with grief now that he's basically removed himself from the memories of what happened to him and to his friends in the slums - he never mentions his past, and is very visibly attempting to distance himself from it by engaging with luxury items such as antiques, and enjoying food such as figs, which can be seen as somewhat luxury depending on the context.

However, when Atsushi seemingly dies, he is absolutely devastated, something that I do not think we've seen him be for anything not related to Dazai (correct me if I'm wrong, but this depth of reaction isn't usually present in him). He, who never feels grief, likely because he believes those who die are weak and thus have it coming, is so shocked by Atsushi's death that he regains his memories and feels utter despair at the idea of losing him.

Conclusion

So, Atsushi and Akutagawa, both characters whose reason to live is deeply intertwined in their outlook on life, are able to balance out and improve each other's characteristics tenfold. I imagine as the manga progresses that both of them will teach each other the value of their own lives simply for existing, something that the overarching story of BSD seems to be trying to communicate.

Shin Soukoku is a perfect microcosm of the overall themes of BSD, representing the one question from which the entire story stems. Without these two, this particular theme would mean nothing, considering there would be literally no relatable plane to experience it on. Sure, we can acknowledge that millions of people dying is bad, and accept that human life is valuable through Fukuchi and Fyodor and Fitzgerald, who all attempt to demonstrate the opposite - but without Akutagawa and Atsushi, it wouldn't nearly mean as much.

I am sorry that this post was so long! If you stuck to the end you are an angel sent from the very heavens. Don't be afraid to reblog or comment your thoughts, this is just my opinion and I would love a discussion. If there are any typos I'm also sorry I've been sitting here for three hours trying to collect sources and write. But actually I'm not sorry cos I'm really based

[mintgreen-homewrecker]

Because theres some people reblogging my post, begging people to make content that allows Whizzer to embrace the little freak we all, deep inside, know he is and i actually started making a list after posting that

A list of headcanons of Weird Shit Whizzer Does:

Whizzer will drink tea in phases 

he will get a new tea and only drink that one for an indeterminate period of time 

could be a few days, could be nine months 

When they were first dating whizzer was on a streak with a specific tea

Marvin was convinced it was his all time favorite and bought like 5 boxes 

Then Whizzer just stopped drinking it and started drinking another one, that one lasted about a month 

After the 5th tea Marvin gave up stocking up on Whizzer’s “favorite” tea bc he already had about 8 unopened boxes of teabags of different kinds of tea he literally never drank again  

Meanwhile the opened ones just sit collecting dust 

When Whizzer watches baseball he gets so absorbed he forgets other shit he was doing 

This led to a new house rule in the form of a note on the wall above the stove:

No food on the stove or in the oven during a baseball game. I WILL turn it off and leave it there. I love you - Marvin 

Whizzer wanted to prove him wrong so he started making something before the next baseball game

the following morning he discovered whatever it was that he was making, moved off the stove top with the stove turned off - he did forget

occasionally he will still try to prove that "Marv, this time I won't. Seriously. Stop looking at me like that."

Whizzer is constantly buying exotic new condoms to try out 

At least one landed each of them in the ER bc of an allergy they didn’t know they had 

Every time they ended up there Whizzer, without fail, says “Well, now we know.” 

Meanwhile Marvin - usually the one to try them first because Whizzer is very convincing (in this regard to literally only Marvin) - will sit there with a rash and cursing himself for going along with it

Whizzer is athletic but NOT flexible

They found out the hard way 

Whizzer will try and fail to prove his mediocre flexibility 

Marvin continuously has to try and stop him from discolating something

When doing a foldover stretch he just kind of gets stuck mid-way and blames it on his legs being too long; but that doesn't mean he won't try; sometimes Marvin would randomly catch him trying to get all the way down and will tease him about it until they have sex - after that he started doing it on purpose

When he’s mad he will put any and everything out of Marvin’s reach

Everything and i mean EVERYTHING

If Marvin really fucks up that includes their stash of toilet paper

in the healthy iteration he will still do it but he got Marvin a step stool

Whizzer will say he loves French music but he could not name even one song

If someone asks him what his favorite song is, he either changes the subject or makes up something that sounds vaguely French and hopes the person he is talking to will buy it

Marvin actually believed him until Charlotte had a friend from France visit for a week

Marvin refuses to let him live it down - mostly because Whizzer will resort to sex to distract him; Whizzer is fully aware that Marvin is doing it for precisely that reason and just goes along with it

Whizzer will rearrange Marvin’s socks to mess with him

Because (of course) Marvin has a system for his socks and Whizzer knows how said Sock System works, Whizzer will find the most obtuse and convoluted way to mess with the sock system in ways that aren't immediately obvious

feel free to add your own headcanons

[chronic-conjuring]

So I was just gunna keep my ranting in the tags but I actually think this is an important thing to say because I needed to hear it before I learned it the hard way.

This is only applicable to some situations and to ignore that can be very damaging. Not everyone is granted the kindness of being allowed to safely ask for what they want or need, and that it’s very often used in abusive relationships as leverage and for psychological abuse.

TW: Vague Descriptions of Psychological Abuse of a Romantic Partner

This is just to give examples and discuss how this was used against me. No graphic descriptions are included, but I hope it might help someone.

I spent a significant amount of time in two relationships that it was absolutely NOT safe for me to ask for what I wanted despite being consistently encouraged and asked to. I was told it was a safe place to do so and I believed them. Unfortunately it usually led to me being gaslit and manipulated, leaving me questioning my reality, and I believe that was the intended effect. I have yet to overcome it after being out of that place for almost a year as I’m writing this.

Oftentimes I’d ask for what I wanted or even needed from my partners and then I’d get deprived of those things whenever I upset them. Usually it felt like they used what little openness I could give about my wants and needs to punish me, playing cruel games where I’d be made to think I’d be prioritized for once. Only to then be overlooked in favor of someone else before I ever got the chance to even feel like a priority, let alone be treated like it. I’d have things I wanted promised to me, and then watched as they were freely given to my other partner while I was forgotten about, and then told I was being treated fairly because they also felt overlooked and unwanted, somehow. That they needed whatever they were getting too. It was often said to me like I was receiving the exact same treatment when I was very obviously not.

In essence, in my personal opinion, I was being trained to not ask for things, to become complacent in my own neglect and believe it was all my fault because I didn’t do enough to provide for their wants. I was made to feel like my anguish was a self inflicted burden, brought on by my own damaging behavior towards them despite doing everything I knew how to not do that. It was often pinned on my actually healthy relationship, using my girlfriend as a scapegoat for their inappropriate and deceitful behavior with each other and with me.

This was insanely damaging to me, especially since I have been struggling to even say what I want let alone ask for it for a long time. Even as I have the safest people to ask for things from now, I still struggle with it. Sometimes to the point of panic or genuine distress. My brain automatically wonders when I’ll have whatever I’ve asked for arbitrarily taken away for some perceived slight, and leaves me dealing with the anxiety that comes from waiting for the other shoe to drop. Despite the fact that the people I ask for things from now have literally never done anything close to that and actually have a track record of consistently giving me those things if possible after I state the initial want.

TL/DR: Bottom line is this- using the phrase “the worst thing they can do is say no” only applies when anything else they would try to do doesn’t matter or negatively affect you in any significant way. It’s like saying “what are they gunna do? Fire me?” After putting in your two weeks notice at a shit job. There are many situations where asking for things can be dangerous, and many of us become scared of doing so because it was dangerous at some point in our lives. Often it starts when you’re still a kid and are subject to your parent’s whims.

Just something to think about

not very good at asking for things that I want

[painted-bees]

sad ace hours over here. Maybe Raf can relate: has he ever felt like garbage for not finding his partner hot or sexy or whatever? Has he ever felt like he was robbing them of an important part of their relationship?

Oh no, anon Q nQ I am reaching through the computer screen with a hot, comforting beverage of your choice and much love.

Raf takes...a while to come to terms with the idea that a may...probably be ace, as he'd need to see a lot more people talking about it before he's even convinced that it's a thing. So, with that context, he--yeah, actually, haha. Less so with Margie because she's extremely communicative. But in his past relationships, his lack of sexual attraction was typically obscured to him by other forms of attraction that, in certain contexts, he would misinterpret as the bog standard sexual attraction that everyone feels. Confusingly, his attraction in romantic relationships rarely served any sexual motivations when he actually needed it to--and this had led him to assume that he was just... really fickle; some days, he was "in love" with his partner and other days, he really wasn't--and that's just the way he was. It always feels bad when a partner is trying to make moves and be sexy, and he has to mask his disinterest. He's a born and raised performer, so he can play a fair gig, but it felt dishonest to him, and he'd have definitely served time in his own mind wondering if he should keep "pretending" that he loves them when he clearly isn't feeling that fabled "spark" abt them.

But then, later, they do or say something smart/clever/funny typical of themselves and he'll think "no, I definately do love them, I'm just being weird abt it idk". Again, attributing it to being "fickle."

In his relationship with Alex, they were basically still kids [college kids are kids don't fite me on this] and Alex wasn't really observant enough to notice when Raf was kinda checked out and playing a script haha.

But Lacey sure fuckin' did. Lacey could tell the difference between a genuine Raf smile and a performed smile. And she haaated being on the receiving end of Raf's cordial performances. If he wasn't going to love her "for real" then she needed him to just not fuckin' bother. And this resulted in fights [a lot of things between them resulted in fights kfkd]. In some ways, it felt a lot worse that she wouldn't let him act out the part when she was able to clock it as a performance. But that's kinda because the performance itself is a guesture of love in its own right. Not an act of conciet [and he doesn't really figure that out himself until his relationship with Margie tbf].

His relationship with Lace was bad for a lot of reasons [they were both just...awful to one another in equal measures], but she really did make him feel like there was something deeply, distressingly, fundamentally wrong about his capacity to love sometimes. Like he'd never be able to fully love someone the way they deserved [and he blamed his upbringing for this, not his sexuality, rip].

His relationship with Margie is the first relationship he's had where he feels like...an emotionally mature adult lmao and the things about himself that he still needs to figure out, they're able to figure it out together. Again, Margie's compulsion towards transparency and her need to communicate all things has benefitted him hugely, even if he is naturally more of a "keep things close to the chest" sort of person himself. It leads them to little moments like this one that allows Raf the chance to be honest with her about what he is and isn't feeling, and for her to affirm that she understand where he's coming from and just wants to meet him where he's at [knowing well that the same is true vice versa].

[lemotmo]

It's very clear at this point, people

Q. I guess my question is why the need to bring him back? I mean they broke up, he serves no story purpose.

A. He absolutely serves a story purpose. Look I talk a lot of trash about the guy because the actor who plays him repulses me on every level, but the character serves a genuine story purpose. The problem was Tim didn't stick with the original story plan and it allowed the story to get a bit muddled to the point that it created an opportunity for certain people to try and hijack the intended narrative. Tim mentioned a jealousy aspect in an interview prior to the season. For whatever reason between then and now he decided to go a different way. I have no idea why he decided against that story point because it was always going to be the easiest, most straightforward way to get the audience from point A to point B. It also would have made it much easier to get Buck and Eddie to their individual realizations at similar times within the story. It was a mistake to decide not to go with that particular route, and I would love to know why he changed his mind. I know most of us got to a point where we didn't want Tommy anywhere near any kind of Buddie realization, but the reality is that Tommy was always intended to play some part in Buck's realization one way or another.

The dialogue between Buck and Tommy in episode 8x11 was really, really telling. Tommy is the ultimate Buddie plot device. But because Tim kept dragging the story out all while not giving Tommy or the relationship any actual screen time, focus or development, because their relationship was never the point of anything, people kind of filled in the blanks with their own version of events. Lou did not help the situation because he encouraged people to believe a version of the story he knew wasn't true, but the show wasn't really doing anything to countermand the noise, early on Tim actively encouraged some of the chatter, something he later learned was a mistake. Yes the storyline was pretty straightforward if you were bothering to pay actual attention, but this is the problem with continually kicking the Buddie can down the road for later. Things started and stopped several times. And each time the progress stalled Lou was ready, and more than willing to fill the silence with his version of events. 8x11 was Tim basically resetting the narrative to the way it was originally intended to play out.

Tommy's one job was to make Buck aware of the Eddie of it all, and Tim finally had him do that in this last episode. Having Tommy be the one to verbalize for the audience that the BuckandEddie thing is something that does need to be reexamined and looked at with a new perspective, while at the same time admitting that he viewed Eddie as competition set everything up for the audience. Then having Buck react the way he did and say what he said, 'I don't want to have to sleep with everyone I have feelings for and I don't have feelings for everyone I sleep with' told the audience the entire game. Buck has clearly thought about Eddie like that at some point, and made himself shutdown and lock that train of thought away, and he didn't appreciate Tommy reminding him of that. The show used the second part of Buck's dialogue to explicitly state that Buck has no actual feelings for Tommy. It was physical for Buck. And this is the first time Buck has admitted that out loud. It was something Buck had to admit to himself, and Tommy, but it was also something they wanted the audience to be aware of. As far as Buck is concerned there is no competition. He will pick Eddie every single time, even if he believes it can only be in a platonic way. Tommy was used as the character to tell the audience that it might not have to be platonic. The relationship part of Buck and Tommy officially ended with that episode but I do think we will see Tommy at least one more time. The focus will now switch to Eddie, and there are several things they need to do with Eddie prior to any kind of feelings realization on his part. My guess is they will sort out the Eddie and Chris situation, and the Diaz parents thing and then address the Buck of it all out loud. Ryan and Oliver both saying that we will see phone calls and FaceTime calls between the two makes me really happy. The idea that the show might do another Buck and Abby parallel and kind of show both Buck and Eddie allowing themselves to fall for one another while talking on the phone is a really lovely idea. And I really hope that's what they're doing because not only would that be a really special thing to allow the audience to witness, it allows the realizations to occur within the same episode. I got sidetracked here, lol, but personal feelings for Lou aside Tommy always served a story point the show just pushed his purpose to this past episode. But they made his purpose clear, try as some people might to pretend they didn't.

Thank you Nonny!

Well said Ali! The show is finally ready to address the Buddie elephant in the room and so far I've loved every single second of this storyline.

As for Tommy? Uh-uh, the Buddie plot device is there to do its job and he did it well in 8x11. I'm sure he'll be off plot devicing some more in 8x14/15. I cannot wait to watch it and say goodbye forever to T. 🙂‍↕️

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[walkingstackofbooks]

Write more Ezri x Julian and don’t undermine the female character this time plz

This message seems to be lacking in basic politeness. However, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt here and assume that you haven't realised how rude this, so here's an explanation of what went wrong, in case you'd like to try again ❤️

"Write more Ezri X Julian":

Even taken on its own, this is a demand, not a request. I write what I enjoy, for fun, and hope that other people will like it when I share it - I don't owe it to anyone to write what they want. If you'd like to avoid being rude to fanfic writers in the future, I'd suggest a question such as: "Do you have plans to write any more [X]? I've loved all your other [X] stories!"

"and don't undermine the female character":

A few things here:

Again, this is a demand.

It's also unsolicited criticism, which is always rude in this context.

If you don't enjoy someone's writing, the polite thing to do is to not read it: telling someone to change their writing for you is not the way forward.

I'm pretty unapologetic about the fact that Julian's my main man - all the other characters, of any gender, are going to be secondary to him. I do try to make all my characters as three dimensional as possible, because that's enjoyable - but in most of my fics, they are also going to serve as vessels with which to bring Julian hurt or comfort, or lenses through which he's being viewed. That's simply what I find fun to write: again, if it's not fun for you, you don't have to read my fic.

"and don't undermine the female character this time":

My friend, I do not know to which previous time you're referring! (I'm assuming this one, but I have no way of knowing if I'm right.) If you were genuinely trying to engage with me in good faith, I'd appreciate it if you actually gave me some details! I might still disagree with your assessment, but as it is, I have no idea how you've determined that I undermined Ezri, and even if I were inclined to write another Jezri thing right now, I wouldn't have a clue if it was going to live up to your standards.

If you'd like to avoid being rude to writers in the future, I'd suggest a friendly, non-judgemental phrasing such as: "I really enjoyed [A] part of the story! Do you mind if I ask why you decided to write Ezri in [specific description] way? It read to me as somewhat undermining her character, and I'm curious why you made that choice."

--

I genuinely don't know what your intention was with this message, but if you were honestly hoping I'd "write more Jezri without undermining Ezri", then I hope you can understand why your message wasn't very persuasive.

In summary - and this goes for anyone engaging with fanfic writers in the hopes that they'll write more of the stuff you like - then:

Tell them what you enjoyed about their previous stuff! A request for more fic is not a compliment on its own - if you liked something so much that you're asking for more, it's also on you to explain what you liked before.

Ask them if they have plans to, or if they'd consider writing more. Don't tell them to. Don't demand it.

Accept before you ask that their answer might very well be "no".

If you didn't like their fic, then don't ask for them to write something different, and don't send in critcisms. Their stuff just isn't for you.

Read back whatever you're planning to send to check that it sounds friendly! If you're unsure, check in with a friend.

If you'd like to reword your message in a way that would allow me to give you whatever reply you were hoping for, then go for it. I'd be happy to hear from you if you're engaging in good faith. Just keep in mind that I'm a human person playing with fictional characters for fun, and you'll be golden :)

[embervoices]

I think there may have been two or more plots to begin with, actually, and we finally caught where they diverge!

Okay, backing up.

I don't have anything like your whole picture in my own head, even from what you've said in the tags, and it sounds like you're asking a question that requires more personal context than I can address from here - assuming I'd have a useful answer if I knew more, which... like... Quite possibly not? I'm not a mental health professional, I'm just some guy on Tumblr who happens to have experience living with anxiety.

I do want to clarify that I was never intending my answers to be personal to you. You added a totally reasonable question with general applicability to an open thread, and I gave an answer that applied to the question I thought you were asking for the sake of the broader audience. Making decisions about complex situations is challenging for a lot of people, especially if we have anxiety about it. There are some generally useful things to keep in mind about it.

Granted that they are things you already well know! Gods know DBT has piles of mnemonic acronyms to choose from! But that doesn't mean everybody else knows them, so I still point them out.

But I think it's also, in this case, that I was assuming a longer context for the thread than you were. It sounds like you were talking about in-the-moment situations to get out of physically, and I was talking about long-term situations to get out of socially/physically/etc.

Seeking advice is usually more for getting a reality check on repeating or long-term situations one is in - jobs, relationships, social contexts, etc. Therapists can be great for helping us learn to apply internal tools to those and other situations, but they're not going to help nearly so much for in-the-moment decisions unless you're allowed to have them on speed dial or something.

There's a very big difference between

"Should I quit my job? If so, immediately, or should I try to stick with it long enough to line up another job first?"

and

"I'm starting to feel weird. Should I leave the grocery store right now?"

In your specific case, I'm not sure I can help much. I will say, I'm not familiar with any model that ever places feelings and emotions outside? So, I'm guessing you mean outside stimulus? As in, are you reacting to something internal, or is something in the environment prompting the reaction?

Yeah, if that's hard for you to gauge, that's going to make figuring out whether you should depart a specific physical environment way harder, and you're not necessarily in a position to get an external reality check about it when it matters, because it's a problem in real-time. Fair point, and that's a really rough place to be.

Personally, I always aim for calming down first when I start to feel funky, before any other decision making. If I can't calm down enough to make a clear decision, then it's time to get out regardless of why I'm getting upset - whether it's a sensory problem that I don't have the spoons to handle that day, or I'm just having a really off day, or whatever. Many different things can make my thresholds lower for a day, such that sensory input I can tolerate today may be overwhelming tomorrow.

But - and I know this is important - I can almost always afford to just go home when I'm overwhelmed. I get that the same is not true for everyone else, and thus the risks may need to be higher before they make that decision.

I do wish you well, and I wish I had more foolproof answers - or at least more contextually relevant ones!

i wish there was an easier way to tell the difference between an "if it sucks hit da bricks" situation and a "sometimes being an adult means doing things that you dont wanna" situation

[starryeyedwolves]

Uncharted Territory

Sirius Black had always been good at following a plan.

Not his own, of course. His parents’ plan. The one they had set out for him before he was old enough to realize he had a choice.

He was supposed to be polished, well-spoken, and composed. A law student with an impeccable record, prestigious internships, and a carefully curated social circle. Every decision, every move, every friendship—calculated. Controlled.

And yet, here he was, sitting on the hood of an old, beat-up car that smelled like cigarette smoke, watching Remus Lupin flick open a lighter with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times before.

Sirius exhaled slowly, trying not to let his nerves show as he studied Remus out of the corner of his eye.

Everything about him was the opposite of what Sirius had been taught to admire. Remus didn’t wear designer suits or expensive watches—he wore thrift store sweaters stretched out at the elbows, rings on his fingers that clinked when he tapped them against his lighter, and combat boots that had seen better days. His jeans were ripped—not in a fashionable way, but in a I’ve-had-these-for-years-and-don’t-give-a-shit kind of way.

And Sirius was absolutely, hopelessly fascinated.

It had started as an accident.

A series of moments that shouldn’t have led anywhere but somehow did.

James had been the one to introduce them. Of course, he had. James had a habit of collecting people, forming friendships where others wouldn’t bother, and Remus was one of those people. A punk with a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. The first time Sirius saw him, he was arguing with a professor about a grading system that favored wealthy students, his voice steady despite the thinly veiled threat of detention.

Sirius had never seen anyone stand their ground like that before. He had been raised to obey, to accept the system because that’s just the way things are. But Remus didn’t accept anything. He challenged, questioned, pushed back.

And Sirius?

Sirius wanted to know what it felt like to be that fearless.

Which was probably how he had ended up here, sitting in an abandoned parking lot at one in the morning, listening to a mixtape Remus had made with songs Sirius’ family would probably call absolute garbage.

“You’re quiet,” Remus said suddenly, exhaling a slow stream of smoke into the night air. “Thinking too hard again?”

Sirius blinked, pulled out of his thoughts. “What, am I not allowed to think?”

Remus turned his head slightly, studying him. The glow of the streetlamp made his cheekbones look sharper, his eyes gold instead of brown.

“You’re allowed,” Remus said. “You just tend to overthink things that don’t need overthinking.”

Sirius snorted. “And you’d know?”

Remus smirked, tapping his cigarette against the edge of the car. “I’ve been watching you do it for months.”

Sirius felt his face heat. He looked away, letting his gaze drift to the city skyline in the distance. The problem with Remus was that he noticed things. Sirius had spent years perfecting the art of being unreadable, of keeping his emotions locked away where no one could reach them.

But Remus saw right through him.

Sirius’ grip tightened on the edge of the car. “And what, exactly, do you think I’m overthinking right now?”

Remus let out a soft huff of laughter. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, voice teasing. “Maybe the fact that you snuck out of your fancy apartment in the middle of the night just to sit in a parking lot with me?”

Sirius stiffened.

Remus wasn’t wrong.

And that was the problem.

He had snuck out. He had lied to his family, said he was crashing at James’ place instead of admitting the truth.

Because this—whatever this was—wasn’t something he could explain to them. His parents had made their expectations clear, and a friendship with a weird punk who spent his weekends at underground concerts and graffiti-covered skate parks was not part of the plan.

A relationship?

Not even remotely in the plan.

And yet, Sirius was still here.

Remus was watching him now, his cigarette burning low between his fingers.

“You know,” Remus said, voice softer, “you don’t have to have everything figured out.”

Sirius swallowed hard. “That’s easy for you to say.”

“Is it?” Remus flicked his cigarette away, crossing his arms. “You think I know what I’m doing?”

Sirius hesitated. “You always seem like you do.”

Remus let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I’m just good at pretending.”

That surprised Sirius.

Remus always seemed so sure of himself, so unapologetic. It had never occurred to Sirius that maybe—just maybe—Remus was just as lost as he was.

The thought made his chest ache.

“Maybe,” Sirius said slowly, “I want to stop pretending.”

Remus didn’t reply right away. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out another cigarette, but he didn’t light it. Just rolled it between his fingers, thoughtful.

Then, without warning, he turned to Sirius and said, “Then do it.”

Sirius exhaled sharply. “It’s not that simple.”

Remus shrugged. “Maybe it is.”

Sirius let out a frustrated laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t understand.”

Remus tilted his head. “So explain it to me.”

Sirius opened his mouth. Then closed it again.

Because how was he supposed to explain that everything in his life had been leading him in one direction, and this—this strange, intoxicating, terrifying thing—was pulling him in another?

How was he supposed to explain that every time Remus looked at him like this, he felt like he was standing at the edge of something he didn’t have the words for?

He didn’t realize he had moved until he was close enough to see the freckles on Remus’ nose. Close enough to count the rings on his fingers.

Close enough to do something really stupid.

“Tell me to stop,” Sirius said, voice barely above a whisper.

Remus’ eyes flickered to his lips. Then back up.

“I won’t.”

Sirius barely had time to breathe before Remus leaned in.

It wasn’t rushed or hesitant—it was steady, deliberate. Warm. Remus kissed him like he had been waiting for it, like it was inevitable. And maybe it was.

Sirius’ heart was pounding so hard he thought it might give him away, but when Remus pulled back, there was no teasing smirk, no sarcastic comment. Just a quiet understanding.

Sirius swallowed, his throat tight. “This isn’t in the plan.”

Remus smiled, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind Sirius’ ear. “Then maybe it’s time to make a new one.”

And for the first time in his life, Sirius thought that maybe—just maybe—he wanted to.

[daily-selfship-questions]

I AM SO NEW TO SELFSHIPPING ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY A few questions

what does f/o mean specifically?

is there a difference between selfshipping and yumeshipping??

Am I allowed to be a non-sharing yumeshipper of one character and not another???

Am I even allowed to self ship with more than one character???? Is that considered greedy????? PLS ANSWER OK TYSM FOR READING BYE

Hello, welcome!!! Happy to have you here with us😊 I like answering questions, I hope these clarified some things for you! I hope these aren't too lengthy :)

1. F/O means Fictional Other. It is a mirror of the term Significant Other, but fictional. Our Fictional Significant Others. However, even though there are non-romantic F/Os like familial, platonic, etc., they're still referred to as Fictional Others.

2. I think there is a small difference. I have seen a lot use the words interchangeabley, so I could be wrong for what the current definition of a yumeshipper is, but it originated as a term for girls who selfship typically with anime characters. Yume came from the Japanese word yumejoshi, which means "dreaming girl". And they used yume because. Anime, Japanese, yeah! So in my head yumeshipper is specifically people who selfship with anime characters(I don't find it particular to girls or not), BUT like I said, that word could be taking on a new definition now to be all encompassing, I'm not sure.

Yumeshipper is really mostly a term that is used on Twitter, but I have seen it around here.

A selfshipper is someone who inserts themselves into any media, it is not particular to a certain type of media. Selfshippers sometimes do Self Inserts(which is just them, sometimes with a few extra quirks) to ship with a character, but I've also seen a lot of OC x Canon as well! So to me the difference is just that yumeshipping is specific to anime, while selfshipping is all-encompassing of any media, like movies, cartoons, books, live-action things, etc.

3. Yes!!! I know tons of people that are only non-sharing over particular characters. Whatever your reasoning for it might be it don't matter. Some people are non-sharing over some characters and not other ones. It is common for people when they list out their F/Os to also add if they are non-sharing over that character or not.

4. Anon, you are beyond allowed to selfship with as many characters as you'd like. I have seen people with F/O lists that extend into the 50s or 100s, and I do not mean that as an over-exageration! I have also read those lists cause I get curious who they like. But I mean really, if you click on nearly any blog here on Tumblr there are tons of people who have several F/Os. Anyone that tries to call you greedy for it is just being thick. That's like saying you're greedy for collecting pokemon cards. You're not greedy for investing time in something you enjoy, and in selfshipping you aren't even taking anything away from anyone else, so if anyone calls you greedy then they are severely misconstrued and you probably shouldn't hang around them anyway and be glad that they exposed themselves so you know to probably not interact with then.

I won't lie, lately there's been kinda a little upbringing again of some backlash towards non-sharing selfshippers who have multiple F/Os that they are non-sharing over, but don't worry about it. I have met some lovely people that have assured my own doubts that it's fine. Heck, it's funny you ask me this cause I got quite a bucket list of F/Os myself!

At the end of the day this is something you do for yourself, whether it is or for fun or for coping, so if at any point you can always step back from the social media aspect of it, cause this is between you and your fictional characters.

And don't worry too hard about 'rules'. We're all here to have fun. Do whatever you want, just do what feels right in your heart. You'll get the feel of it the more you hang around and explore different blogs and things or meet others, just as with anything else :)

[soapxbubbles]

What do you like about butches? And about being femme? And the dynamic as a whole really

My first thought is to answer all those questions with “Everything”, because it would be absolutely true, and also because I don’t think there are enough words for me to be able to really describe how much I love all of these things. But I’ll try my best.

For butches, one of the main things I love is how authentic their masculinity is, more true than any man’s could ever be. Another one is how much they love femmes, not a specific one but just how much they love femmes as a whole and as a part of the community, it makes me feel very welcomed and safe. I love how butches cut their hair, how they present their gender, how they dress, how they act and talk and speak and walk. All of it’s amazing to me, and when I say butches I mean to include studs and all butches who are POC, literally anyone who is a butch, everything I say I feel for them. I love when I see them in media, I love it when I see them have their own community with other butches, I love it when I see ten posts in a row about being a cowboy all reposted on my feed. I really just love them.

For what I like about being femme, I like how confident it’s made me in my own style and expression. Again, it’s mainly been because of the community, I really feel like I fit in as a femme, like no matter what I look like I know the people who get it get it, and that makes me feel really good. I also love the community I get to experience with other femmes, even if I don’t have much every like or comment or compliment means the world to me. I love how the label of femme has allowed me to explore my gender as a lesbian and someone who consider femme IS their gender, one way I’ve described it before is sometimes a princess, sometimes a prince but always royalty and I’ve stuck with that for a while.

For the dynamic as a whole, I love it in a romantic sense because it’s really one of the things I want most in life. I can’t see myself anywhere else in the future but with a butch, it feels so right to me, it’s hard to describe. Whatever being may have created me, I know for a fact they created me to fall in love with a butch. For the dynamic in a platonic sense, I love it so so so so so much. Ever since I’ve figured out I’m femme, having butchfemme friendships and interactions has really been my favourite thing. I love the community it brings, I really can’t state that enough. Butches just make me feel femme, just existing with that dynamic somehow is affirming, and I hope to affirm butches in the same way as well, or in any way really.

Quite the long rant, but honestly it could be a lot longer. Again, not enough words to describe how much I love this community and the people in it <3

[vintagestarlight]

Off Limits

Pairing: Dain Aetos x Riorson sister!reader

Summary: What happens when Xaden finds out about Dain having a relationship with you and makes it clear his sister is off limits?

Word Count: 3.5k(I went a bit overboard on this one!)

Warnings: angst(?), suggestive themes, cursing, fluff

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who showed love on my first Fourth Wing fic I love you all sm! This was requested by an anon and honestly I had way too much fun writing this one🤭 Hopefully my writing is a bit better on this fic!

Not proofread so please be aware of typos! Hopefully you all enjoy and don't forget my requests are open. I'm hoping to post the first part to my oc story soon and also work on a few requests :)

***as always likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated***

The sparring gym was empty with the other cadets filtering out and heading in different directions in a sea of black. You and Dain remained behind to get one of those moments where it was just the two of you. Not only were you Xaden Riorson's sister, which came with its own challenges, but Dain was your wingleader and fraternization between a Cadet and their chain of command was strictly prohibited by the Codex, so you and Dain were forced to keep your relationship a secret until he graduated. The only people who knew were your squad. Dain stood before you, rolling his shoulders and looking infuriatingly at ease. Your eyes wander over his bare chest and down his sculpted abs. Gods how could he look so perfect covered in sweat? You thought to yourself. "You sure you're up for this Aetos? You're looking a little tired," you remarked, taking your place in front of him. Dain's lips quirked upward in a smirk. "Oh I'm sure," He took a lazy step forward onto the mat. "But I appreciate the concern," He added. "Whatever I just don't want you using being exhausted as an excuse when I win," You retorted playfully while shifting into your stance. "Show me what you've got then Cadet," he chuckled softly.

You struck first, fast and decisive just like he taught you, aiming for his ribs. Dain deflected it effortlessly without so much as shifting his stance. "That was predictable," he said, the two of you now circling each other. "I'm just warming up," You grinned. You feinted left and saw Dain's body shift to block the incoming blow, and you shifted your feet to the right to aim a well placed kick on his thigh earning you a grunt that sent shivers down your spine and made your body flush. Is now really the time to think about your wingleader in such a fashion? Your dragon sent down your bond, half-teasing half-disapproving. You rolled your eyes but said nothing ignoring that she was right. "Is that all you've got?" Dain teased, recovering quickly. You huffed, going in for a palm strike and Dain grabbed your wrist before your strike could land. He twisted your arm gently and spun you so your back was pressed against his front. "Nice try but you're allowing me too much time to counter," he whispered, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. Your pulse raced and not because of the fight. Dain let go of your arm and stepped back. "Try again," He said, playfulness dancing in his golden brown eyes. "Are you enjoying yourself?" You asked. Dain smirked. "Immensely," He threw a half-hearted swing with his fist, leaving his middle exposed. You ducked under his arm and instead extended your leg, attempting to sweep his legs from under him. He dodged easily and hooked your balancing leg from under, causing you to hit the mat. "If you wanted me on my back Aetos you know all you had to do was ask," you flirted, springing to your feet.

You saw his eyes darken at your suggestion and you used his brief hesitation to lunge forward, aiming a strike at his side. His arm shot out, once again grabbing your arm but you used the opportunity to drive your knee into his midsection. He quickly caught your knee before it could do any damage to his ribs, and his eyes sparked with approval. "Better," He said. He lets go of you and steps backward. “Let's see what happens when I stop taking it easy on you,” He smirked. The next exchange was faster, sharper. He let you once again press the attack but any strike you attempted to land on him he countered with precision. And worst of all-he seemed to be enjoying it.

“Your stance is slipping,” he noted, as he effortlessly parried your next strike.

“Your mouth is slipping,” You shot back, unable to come up with anything better.

“Oh, you like my mouth just fine from what I remember last night,” He flirted.

Your next punch came faster than expected, grazing his jaw slightly. His eyes darkened, his pupils dilating with something you weren’t sure was irritation and you smirked. “That was decent but I wouldn't get too confident just yet," He said. Then he was moving fast, too fast. He pressed the attack now, his movements controlled and methodical leaving you with barely any time to dodge or block his strikes. His palm grazed your rib as you just barely twisted away, your breath coming faster. “Getting tired yet?” Dain asked, his voice way too casual. “You wish,” You taunted. He smirked and you took advantage of the distraction to aim a well-placed palm on his chest, driving him backward. You only just barely managed to shove him backward, his dense muscles working for him(in more ways than one) but you caught a flicker of surprise in his gaze. You carried it through with a high kick to knock him down but he caught your ankle, swept your leg, and you fell backward. He caught you before you could hit the mat too hard and trapped your body beneath his. He still had hold of one of your legs, holding it gently by the back of your calf and he pinned your wrists above your head with his other hand. You struggled against his grip but it wasn’t much use; he was bigger, heavier, and worse-entirely too pleased with himself as he smirked like he won something far better than a sparring match. “Not bad,” he murmured with his face just inches above yours. “But not quite good enough.” “You’re enjoying this way too much,” You remarked, your pulse quickening as he leaned in slightly.

His gaze flickered briefly to your lips and his smirk softened. “Maybe.” Before you could fire back with another retort, he pressed his lips against yours. The kiss wasn't rushed; Dain never rushed he was too controlled for that. The kiss was slow, certain, and firm as though he had already decided this outcome like he had the fight. His lips moved against yours with slow precision, savoring the moment. He wrapped your leg around his waist and ground his hips into you slightly, eliciting a moan from you. He pulled back, his lips ghosting over yours and staring at you with those brown eyes that caused you to melt. “Now that,” he murmured. “was a win.” You exhaled, a smile forming at the corner of your lips as you stared up at him. “Cocky bastard,” you teased. “Care for a rematch?” He smirked, sitting back on his heels. Before you could answer a voice rang out across the gym.

“Am I interrupting?" The voice was low, lethal, and way too familiar and it caused you to freeze underneath Dain. You look over to see your brother standing off to the side with Garrick next to him. "Xaden!" You squeaked. "Get the fuck off my sister Aetos," Xaden growled. His shadows surged forward, dark tendrils ripping Dain off and away from you and Dain slammed onto his back. Simultaneously, his shadows wrapped themselves around your wrists and pulled you backward away from Dain until you stopped at Garrick's side. "Xaden what the fuck!?" You exclaimed, your initial shock being replaced with indignation. You look up at Garrick who only offered a somewhat apologetic smile. Your brother didn't even glance at you, his entire focus on Dain who was picking himself back up with a clenched jaw. "You overstepped Riorson," Dain snapped. "I don't give a damn if she's your sister you don't get to pull that shadow shit with me," He said, his voice rigid. "You know Aetos I'm a bit surprised you had the audacity to go that far, " Xaden took another step forward, his shadows swirling around his feet. "I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to shove your tongue down my sister's throat," Xaden's voice dropped. Her face flushed with embarrassment and you felt Garrick shift beside you, a little uncomfortable. You watch as Xaden stares daggers at Dain and suddenly you weren't sure you recognized your own brother. The man standing in front of you was no longer the older brother who always looked out for you. Instead he was every inch the soldier that Basgiath had forged him into. For the first time in your life, you understood why so many people were afraid of him.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Dain's voice was tight but unwavering. "You heard me," Xaden replied. "And in case you forgot who she was I'd like to remind you who's been protecting her this whole time," Xaden's eyes smoldered with rage but Dain didn't flinch. "She's not your possession Xaden." "No she's not but I am her brother and that makes it my responsibility to make sure she doesn't end up in a situation she's going to regret when she gets hurt," Xaden said, his eyes narrowing. You stood frozen. Xaden said when not if. Does he really think Dain would ever hurt you? You looked up at the hulking man who stood beside you. "Do you think Dain is something I'd regret?" You asked Garrick. Garrick was one of your friends, going back to when you were kids and he always let you tag along with him and your brother, and you knew he would be honest with you. Garrick glanced down at you, hesitating for a moment unsure if he wanted to get involved. "No, I don't think so. But he and Xaden barely tolerate each other so seeing him with you was probably more of a shock than anything," he replied sincerely. "You deserve to be with someone who treats you right and loves you. And Dain seems to love you especially if he's willing to go toe to toe with Xaden to defend you," You smiled and he returned the gesture before Xaden and Dain's voices pulled you back. "I don't need your permission to do anything with her. I certainly don't need you to remind me how to treat her right. And I'm not going to be scared of you and back down like you want. Ever. Not when it comes to her," Dain growled and your heart seemed to stop. Xaden's shadowy presence seemed to grow even more oppressive as he stalked closer to Dain, their faces inches apart. "You're walking a fine line, Aetos. You think you can just play these games with her? Pretend like you're her hero while you're distracting her from everything else around her?"

Dain's nostrils flared and for a split second it seems like they may actually clash with each other. As much as you loved Dain, you weren't entirely sure he was a match for your brother. You opened your mouth to intervene when Professor Devera walked into the gym. "Professor Tavis? Professor Riorson? You're needed to attend a meeting with the other professors," She stated, looking at the situation before her before turning to leave a moment later. Professors? you thought. That must be why Xaden is back but why didn't he mention anything? Xaden's shadows seemed to disappear and his icy gaze glared at Dain. "This isn't the last time we'll be talking about this," He promised, his voice low. Xaden turned away making his way to the gym doors while Garrick gave you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder before following his friend. You glanced at Dain who's eyes met yours and suddenly, that indignation came back full force. You spun on your heel and stalked after the two men. "Xaden!" You shouted, garnering brief glances from people nearby. Xaden and Garrick stopped abruptly and you came to a stop in front of them, your arms crossed. "Who the fuck do you think you are!" You asked your older brother and Garrick's eyes went wide. "Excuse me?" Your brother asked, peering down at you. "Why are you acting like a total asshole?" You asked angrily and you could hear Garrick chuckle. "Me?" Xaden asks with disbelief. "This is the first time I see you in months and you berate my boyfriend?" You snapped but you cringed inside. Boyfriend seemed a little...immature but you didn't know what else to say. "Considering what I saw him doing, you're lucky I didn't kill him right there," Xaden replied coolly and you gaped at him. "You could've chosen anyone y/n and you choose Aetos?" He asked, incredulously. "I don't need your approval for anyone I want to date," You spit back. "He isn't good for you," Xaden insisted. "You don't get to make that decision for me Xaden!" You raised your voice. "If you want to act like a big brother and look out for me and care for me, by all means please do so," You continued. "But I'm not a little kid anymore and you have to stop treating me that way. You don't get to decide who I can and cannot spend my time with," You finished. Xaden stared at you while you chastised him.

"So I'm supposed to just be fine with you picking probably the worst guy at Basgiath?" He asked you. "Yes!" You snapped. Your sharp words did nothing to dull the pain from Xaden's words. Could he really think your taste in men, or rather your decision making in general, was so bad? Despite how you were yelling at him, you desperately wanted his approval. "And he's not the worst," You continued. Xaden opened his mouth but you cut him. "You need to get over this Xaden because I'm not planning on breaking it off with Dain anytime soon," Once you were finished, you spun on your heel and stalked off. "We're in the middle of a conversation! Where are you going?" He called after you, ignoring the fact he was supposed to be in a meeting. "To fuck my boyfriend!" You shouted over your shoulder. You weren't actually going to fuck him, but you heard Garrick's laugh as you rounded the corner and the look you imagined on Xaden's face made the retort worth it.

Later that night you sat with the rest of your squad in the dining hall with Ridoc and Sawyer fighting over who was stronger-which led to an arm wrestle-Aaric looking somewhere in between bored and amused, Rhiannon shaking her head in amusement at the two boys' antics, and Sloane laughing as the arm wrestle came to a conclusion. You weren't even sure who won. You had tried to eat, you were certainly hungry enough, but the thought of Xaden and Dain's interaction gnawed heavily on your mind. Xaden had intercepted Dain in the corridor as he made his way to the dining hall with his wing and you were instantly uneasy. Xaden wouldn't actually kill Dain. Right? Violet noticed you were uncharacteristically silent. "You okay?" She asked, nudging your shoulder with hers. "She's just upset because big brother Riorson found out she's been getting it on with her wingleader," Ridoc said smugly. You fixed him with a glare and Rhiannon swatted the back of his head causing Ridoc to laugh out loud. "Seriously?" Violet grimaced at the brown haired man sitting across from her before returning her attention onto you. "He's not technically wrong," You muttered. "Dain and I were practicing sparring after everyone left. It escalated and I sort of ended up....underneath him," You finished. Ridoc and Sawyer tried to keep from laughing. "Xaden walked in as Dain was kissing me,"

You took a drink of your water to try and cool the wave of heat that caused your cheeks to flush. Violet's eyes went wide for a moment. "How did he take that?" She asked, everyone listening in. "About as well as you'd expect," You replied. "I'm surprised either one of them walked away alive." You went on. "Don't forget the shouting match you had with him in the courtyard," Ridoc threw out there. You scowled at him and Violet raised her eyebrows in curiosity to which you told her about your confrontation with Xaden. "So I told him I was going to fuck my boyfriend," You finished, your cheeks on fire. Ridoc and Sawyer collapsed with laughter, Rhiannon and Sloane smiled at you proudly, and Aaric had a slight expression of amusement on his face. "Wow," Violet said. "Yeah it wasn't my best moment," You admitted. "I saw Xaden corner Dain in the hallway and disappear somewhere before we all came to the dining hall," You told them. Violet sensed you were uneasy about your brother's conversation with Dain. "I'm sure everything will be just fine. Xaden and Dain may not always be on the best of terms all the time," Violet started. "But Xaden loves you and we all know how well Dain treats you. I wouldn't let it bother you so much," She finished, giving you a small hug.

You happened to glance up to see Dain appear in the entrance to the dining hall and he motioned with his head to follow him. "I'll be right back," You told your squad. "Good luck," Violet said. You made your way across the hall and rounded the corner of the dining hall entrance to see Dain standing a few feet away. "Well you're alive," You joked, but your tone was laced with a little relief. "How did it actually go?" You asked, worry in your eyes. "Xaden had some strong words and honestly I wasn't sure if I was gonna make it until Tavis vouched for me," He joked and you gave him a pointed stare. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "So...is he....okay with this?" You asked, the nervousness clawing at you. "Xaden is Xaden. I don't think he's going to ever be too thrilled I'm with his sister but for now...yeah he seems okay with it," Dain nodded, giving you a smile. You felt your shoulders drop in relief. "We’d better head back before people start gossiping,” he said, the familiar twinkle back in his eyes and you nodded. His hand fell to the small of your back but you heard your name being called. You turn around and see your brother staring at you. "I need to talk to you," He said, his expression unreadable. Dain gave your waist a squeeze and left you and Xaden to talk.

You walked over to where your brother stood and crossed your arms, still a little angry with him. "Thanks for not killing him," you said sarcastically. "I thought about it," Xaden muttered. "Listen, I appreciate you wanting to protect me and I don't want you to think I'm not grateful for you. You're my brother; I'm always going to need you, it's just in a different way now. I'm not a little girl any more you don't have to keep protecting me. Dain...he isn't the enemy Xaden. He wouldn't ever hurt me and I trust him," you told him. Xaden ran a hand through his dark hair, sighing. The words stung he couldn't lie; but not in the way he had expected. There was pride in your voice, a sense of confidence and determination he hadn't anticipated.

"I know and I get you're an adult now....but it's hard for me to see my sister with someone who I could never come to terms with," he admitted. That was putting it lightly. You thought. "If he's good enough for me Xaden, why can't he be good enough for you?" You asked him. He could see in your eyes you just wanted him to say he approved of this relationship, of your decisions, and your words hit him like a punch to the gut. "I'm your brother Y/n no one is ever going to be good enough for you," it came out as a joke but deep down you knew he meant it. "Xaden you can't control everything. You need to let me make my own decisions and learn my own lessons," you said, a little frustrated but with a new understanding of where Xaden was coming from. "I can't be your little sister forever," you added quietly. His chest tightened and for a brief moment he saw a younger version of you in his mind.

When he looked at you, he no longer saw the small kid who always needed her brother to be there. You were no longer the kid who looked at him as though he hung the moon. You had grown up. "You're right. You're an adult now, capable of making her own decisions. But I'll always be here for you; that's what older brothers are for," he gave you a smile and you felt yourself grin. "And can you please try to not threaten Dain as much from now on?" You asked him. "He's not as bad as you think." Xaden raised an eyebrow at you. "We'll see." The two of you walked back towards the dining hall and you smiled to yourself. It was a long road ahead before Xaden would, if ever, be comfortable with you and Dain being together but at the moment he tolerated it. And that was enough for now.

[richardsphere]

Ok its not broken on my end. So do you mind if I (at least temporarily until you can double-check it) provide a transcription? I think that we should probably look at both the "alya pushes mari to be honest" and the "the three decide to give Adrien the power in the first place" scenes for full context as to both: -The show's own position on the morality of this hypothetical future course of action. -The mechanics of the memory erasure incident. Starting with the "let's give Adrien a conceptual destruction ability" scene: --- Ladybug: "this time to repair things. We have to destroy them." Chat: "But isn't that wrong" Rena: "No, because it is meant to give people the ability to choose wether to share their secret or not," (turns directly to camera, voice stresses the following line for emphasis) 'and that's repairing things' (mari looks uncomfortable, she sort of slightly shrinks in on herself and makes a sound im fairly certain is her swallowing her courage? Looks down in tiny bit of contemplation and then gains resolve. Walking over to Chat) She takes his hand in a supportive gesture. LB:"You're a good person, Kitty. Trust yourself." CN: "But how do I do it" (doubt in voice) LB: "Remember, there is always room to evolve." Chat finds his resolve. CN: "Cataclysm"(hand begins glowing. Tiny black hole pellet apears. Spiritbomb power-up sequence. Gust of wind and a tiny tremor goes through the street they're standing on) "Miraculous Chat Noir" Black cloud flies around in a circle, turns back towards Rena who closes her eyes in acceptance/resolve for what is about to happen. A reprise of the "everything is fixed" miraculous ladybug tune plays in the background. CN: "Did it work" RN:"Did what work?" LB: "Well done Chat Noir" RN: "Did I miss something?" LB: "Only a part of it" Then we get the keychain hand-off, but no further talk within this scene about the amnesia-power as we cut to Lila's Lair. --- OK... that's weird... The 'did i miss something' implies she might've also forgotten consenting to having her memory erased? But LB makes it clear that she only forgot 'a part' without clarifying how big that part is. But it also makes it clear that it's explicitly only a part of the events of the day she has forgotten. This scene (on its own) kind of supports both our positions in a "from a certain point of view" kind of way. One thing i do know is that at least the text of this scene implies that My position corresponds with the writers re: "removing the memory allows Adrien the chance to choose for himself whether he wants people to know about his private life". Because that is exactly the sentiment Alya expresses. You're free to disagree with the writers, but My hypothetical at least feels in line with their textual position.

Moving onto the post-lila beach scene: --- Nino and Adrien are playing a ballgame in the water. Marinette and Alya are on the beach with the parasol. Alya:"You know you can tell me if something's wrong" Mari:"I know everything's fine" Alya: "May I remind you i'm a personal lie detector and it's flashing red?" Mari: "I know you can't stand secret's and lies Alya. But... I dont want you to hate me". Alya: "Me, hate you? I hope you're kidding. There's one truth I know about you. You have a big heart. And I know that whatever you do, you do it for people's own good. Sure you make mistakes sometimes, we all do but you always set them right. So don't think of it as a lie or a secret, just think of it as something that is hard to tell." Either Adrien or Nino (i am not familiar enough with the spanish voices to be sure): "Are you coming in the water or what" Alya: "Whenever you're ready to take the plunge, i'lll be there for you" --- Once again, this scene doesnt really conclude either way between us. It could be she's reading Mari's body language and making educated guesses, or it could be she's trying to guide mari based on a half-memory because she knows that something mari is keeping shouldnt be a secret in the first place. But it also implies that Alya knows marinette is "making a mistake", as if she (partly) remembers marinette explaining her reasoning and disagreeing with it. But luckily we have 1 more scene. After the end of episode splash-screen. We get the yoyo-logo zoom and another scene. --- Alya is holding a picture of her and marinette. Alya: "Why would I hate you Marinette" Trix: "Right, you'd never" (dont know the voice well enough to know if this is legitimate or if this is Tryxx being sassy and back-handed) Alya: "Her burden is probably too heavy Trix, I have to figure out how to help her" Fade to black --- And once more its not clear wether Alya is responding to marinette's insistance that "alya would hate her" or wether she's remembering her own anger that Mari was responding to... Basically: All these scenes are at just that uncomfortable bit of ambiguous about what was/wasn't forgotten by Rena and how much she does/doesn't know, and how she is planning to go about helping. Which certainly makes for good drama. But it doesnt make for a clear cut answer to our big "how refined is the memory-destruction" question. Personally, unless explicitly stated that Alya remembers nothing, im going to stick with "her intuition is too laserguided to for her to be fully amnesiac" for now. (LB's insistance that she "only forgot part" is the only bit of these scenes that feels like it's only going towards one of our theories, and that also tips the scales for me. Alya feels too "certain" that a mistake must have been made for me to dismiss her as completely amnesiac.) I fear that as of current cannon, we're just stuck at an impasse.

We finally get a secondary power for the Cat Miraculous, after years of complaining about how unbalanced its relationship with the Ladybug was despite being a pair - only for said power to be clearly introduced to be used as a recton/Status Quo upholder later down the line and will be immediately forgotten about once it's served it's purpose likely.

......Sigh.

[ghost-of-you]

Ima hop in talking to throw my two sense about this major break that’s coming up for 5sos, anonymously as someone who runs a anonymous 5sos confessions blog.

There’s a lot of new people in this fandom who’ve never experienced a 5sos break, and still have trauma from either 1D or other bands who took a break and then disbanded before the reunion. Or are fans of bands who are also in a limbo and are worried about what’s going to happen. (Looking at 1975 fans, I wish the best for yall)

And I’m a mixture of both! I was here for the first break, but drifted into other music genres during it, and kinda forgot about 5sos for a while, but came back within the last 3 years.

Plus for those who were here for the first break - there’s a lot of different factors that add into the uncertainty this time, like Michael becoming a dad!

There’s a lot of feelings being thrown around in the music industry of what happens before/during breaks that adds to what a break means now vs when the first break happened. It’s just… a lot.

Okay, look, I'm nice and I'm understanding but right now I'm gonna sound like a bitch and I don't care. Whatever experience anyone has with any other band doesn't matter. What happened with one direction is different from what is happening with the 1975, that's different from what happened with big time rush, that's different from what happened to why don't we, that's different from what happened to the Jonas brothers, I can keep going but you catch my drift. They are different bands, formed by different people, in different ways, with different believes and way to make music. No one thought backstreet boys were ever gonna come back and they just did a world tour, NSYNC was seen together just last month for the first time in YEARS, bands can take breaks and reform and regroup and move on if they want. I think this expectation that you're owed content all of the time is crazy. Album cycles shouldn't be just month long things. They should be allowed to work on something for longer. They should be allowed to not tour every 6 months. 5sos released 5 album in 10 years. An album every 2 years is a fucking good number. But even if it takes them another 2, 3, 5 years, it's their right as humans to take as much space as they want. I understand why people might be scared, but no one has the right to demand anything from anyone. Maybe Luke and Ashton will release more solo music, maybe they'll go on a tour, maybe Calum will drop a poetry book, maybe we won't see them for 5 years and then they'll announce the announcement of a new song. They can do whatever they want. You can't honestly expect to have access or content or tour at all times. They are grown men with lives and families who worked hard to learn how to exist outside a band they started when they were teenagers.

And yes, Michael is gonna be a father, but one, he's not the first musician ever to have a kid so that doesn't mean anything, but you also can't expect him to not be there for his daughter. Baby girl Clifford should be his priority but in nowhere is stated that you can't be a father and a musician.

And to compare 5sos to one direction is not a fair comparison, one direction was formed in a reality show by people who only wanted to explore them. 5sos were friends first and they are still friends first. Maybe they won't drop an album every year anymore. Maybe they won't make a tour with 101 concerts in less than 8 months. But that doesn't make them any less of a band, it they are doing shorter tours and longer album cycles.

Also, if they break up, they broke up, we can't force them to stay a band.

But I stand by the fact that these men went through quarantine, lost a whole record with calm due to an internal error, dropped their label, their management, both Ashton and Luke released solo albums, with Luke signing a 3 record deal if I'm not mistaken , Michael got signed as a dj and a producer, and they still released a whole album independently that was made the way they wanted. If they were gonna stop being a band they would've done in it in 2020. They're allowed whatever breaks they want or need. They are real humans. And they are not one direction.

But this break they are taking is something that they planned around it, or do you think it's an accident the tour ended just in time for Michael to be back home for the birth of his daughter? This tour wasn't scheduled, they could've not done it. But they chose to do it. But to look at them and accuse of being about to breakup and lying about it because they are taking a break for a very specific and unbelievably valid reason is bullshit.

I don't care about whatever trauma you may have about other bands. What happened to other bands happened to other bands. You can't make a different situation about them because it's never gonna be the same because there's different people involved.

Is their life. Their choice. We're just along for the ride. It's a hell of a good one so far and if this is it so be it. It's their choice.

And honestly, if you're actually this affected by one direction breaking up and this is not just some exaggeration for the bit or a joke, get help.

[rouge-fauna]

Normally, I wouldn't really say anything about the drama and stuff, because that's not what I'm here for and honestly I feel like a lot of it is just none of my business. But, it just feels so close to home for me that I can't help but say something. Because here's the thing people aren't going to talk about and probably don't even realize, but I think so much of this drama actually has to do with Dream being autistic.

Just notice the themes of what Tubbo said about Dream being weird, inappropriate, not considering the social boundaries, not communicating, coming across wrong… etc these are all things that can be attributed to Dream literally not knowing better because of neurodivergence. That’s not an excuse but an explanation to know the difference between Dream texting Tommy’s mom out of being manipulative versus not understanding how that breaks a social boundary. That’s not to say Dream should get a free pass to do whatever but I think in the same way we take into consideration other people’s ages and their naivety and obliviousness and inexperience into consideration, Dream’s neurodivergence should be considered too. It is valid. It makes a difference between manipulative and malicious intent versus simply not seeing it the same way.

And really the sad thing is, that I think people will always dislike Dream. At the end of the day, I think that will never change, because even if he was the most perfect person people would still dislike him because of an underlying subconscious response to him not being like the rest. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he is made the villain in real life and in the dsmp, because it is simply a psychological fact that people inherently dislike autistic people. It’s not because they are ableist it’s just we don’t act like they do so that makes us weird and therefore unlikeable. And it’s hard to understand us because our brains our literally different and as has been said throughout history what we don’t understand we hate, we fear, we see as evil, we attack. Why does Dream get canceled and attacked over and over again? Not because they are true and it proves a pattern that he’s shitty, but because society is so desperate to find a more tangible reason to hate him other than the fact that they just do. Because his behavior breaks social rules he didn’t realize existed. Because he’s easy pickings. Because in my opinion it all comes down to autism and honestly until that piece is actually taken into consideration nothing will probably resolve.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

i think its weird that i have to make this disclaimer but the internet is crazy so wtvr,, anyway,,

if i say i dont like something, that doesnt mean "that thing is bad and nobody should post it.."

i swear literally every time i even mention that i dislike something, people will go "wow does that mean u fucking hate me cuz i post that thing? ur a fucking stupid bitch and all ur opinions r wrong" LIKE ?? er.. no. just because i say i dont like certain characterizations of certain characters (the saiki k fandom is CRAZY about this cuz i can state an opinion on literally any character and a group of people will still go 'well only we're allowed to post our opinions about them because we're always right!1!1!'), or certain ship tropes (mentioned my hatred of toxic yaoi maybe once or twice on here months ago and people STILL get mad at me as if i said toxic yaoi lovers r evil or something), or certain ships, or WHATEVER, does not mean that i HATE the people who are posting them or that i think they shouldnt post them at all, NO, im just posting about my personal tastes on my personal blog and it would be extremely weird and hypocritical if i decided that i was the ONLY person that was allowed to do that,,

i think the only reason people assume that is because there are a lot of other people on here who ARE like that, and a lot of people toe the line between posting that they dont like something and posting that they think everyone who likes that thing is stupid, annoying, and wrong,, so i guess all i can say is, sorry for whatever made you make these assumptions but they arent true about me so plz leave me alone ʘ‿ʘ ur doing the same thing to me that ur accusing me of but i didnt do it in the first place so ur just actively being a dick for no reason