#two whole years later jfc

[babybluebex]

happy sad confused | joseph quinn blurb

this is a sequel to off menu that i wrote nearly two years ago to the day (wow time flies jfc i wrote that in my mom's hotel room as i was moving lmao), so if you haven't read that yet, pop on over to that link, it'll take like 3 minutes, it's very short :)

"Do you have strong food tastes?" Josh asked, and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

As opposed to the last podcast about food that Joe was on, you were present for the recording of this one. You remembered that day two years ago, right as everything was changing for you and your beau, when he had texted you asking if you listened to the Off Menu Podcast, and you had had to break James Acaster and Ed Gambles' hearts. Later, you had bumped into James at the BRIT Awards and were able to apologize for such a betrayal, and he had forgiven you, with the caveat that you did a shot with him (which you unfortunately had to decline, seeing as you were about 35 weeks into the standard pregnancy 40, and James accepted an alternate apology in the form of a hug).

Joe cast you a look from his place on the couch, a mortified smile playing at his lips. You knew he was thinking something like "Not this again", and you scoffed out a laugh. He was so funny sometimes that it made you sick, and you watched as Josh added, "Are you like, cilantro must be burned at the stake?"

Joe laughed. "Of all the herbs to bring up," he giggled. "Just, umm, a few weeks ago, my family was in Italy, all of us, my mum and stepdad and sister, the wife and boy, the whole lot, and, y'know, coriander is big over there— or cilantro, whatever you'd like to call it— and we were trying to convince our son, who's just turned a year old, to try something with coriander on it..." Joe paused, ruminating on the meal, and he looked at you, more distinctly and blatantly than before. "Babe? What were we trying to feed him when he wasn't havin' it?"

Your eyes widened, and you gulped as the entire room's attention shifted to you. Where your husband was a natural in front of people and cameras, it didn't come quite as painlessly to you. Especially since Anthony was born, you've been hyper-aware of the way people perceive you. You hoped, for your sake, that the focus was on your words and not you, and that people's eyes instead landed on the little tot standing with you. Little Anthony Quinn was holding both your hands, standing up but balanced on top of your feet, swinging and fidgeting about, waiting for Daddy to be done with work to come for a cuddle. "Just your garden-variety spaghetti," you said. "Not even with meat sauce or anything. The tomato sauce had cilantro, and he was not into it."

"Does he say it tastes like soap?" Josh asked. "'Cause that's some people's complaint."

"Well, he isn't really saying much of anything yet," Joe chuckled. "He's just one, remember. We've got 'Mama' in our arsenal, and 'juice', sometimes 'bankie' when he wants his blanket, but bankie can also mean his pacifier, so his 'binkie'— we haven't quite worked out the difference between bankie and binkie yet, but we're getting there."

"Regardless," Josh laughed. "Not a fan of the herb."

"He is the rest of the time," Joe said. "We do a roast every Sunday, and my wife taps me to do the chicken because she doesn't like handling meat, which I understand and, because I'm a good husband, I handle that for her so she can do the rest of the meal— but I put cilantro on the roast chicken and he eats it every week."

"No complaints?" Josh asked.

"None!" Joe exclaimed. "Eats it, eats the potatos, does the whole bit, and he always wants more! My kid doesn't like cilantro in spaghetti, but will eat a whole chicken by himself— make it make sense!"

"Well, with a baby around, I'm sure there's different food around than before," Josh asked. "My niece is into those, like, Gerber cheese snacks that are essentially Cheetos but not really—"

"Oh, we're familiar with the Lil' Crunchies," Joe nodded smoothly. "The mild cheddar flavor. What my son does is, he'll eat 'em by the fistful, yeah? And he decides to be nice and to share with us, which is very good of him, but he'll hand us a wet cheese puff that's half-disintegrated from the force of his little fist, and me and his mummy have gotta pretend like 'oh, yummy, thank you, Ant'."

“You brought up your girlfriend last time food was discussed,” Josh said, and Anthony stamped his little feet as he clearly wanted to run out to Daddy. “On the Off-Menu Podcast with James and Ed, who are just loads of fun. Is she still the same way, no mushrooms or anything?”

“Well, she’s my old lady now,” Joe chuckled. “We got married a few months after that podcast, just tired of not being married to each other yet, y’know? Plus, we found out that the boy was on his way, so it felt like as good a time as any. She's still picky, but there was a small time during her third trimester where she was eating everything in sight. For a few days there, she was doing popcorn with this, I don't know, novelty salt she bought at some shop in America? Anyway, it was pickle-flavored salt, and my girl... I love her, but pickle-salt popcorn... I have to draw a line somewhere."

"And that's the line," Josh chuckled. "Does she do pickles usually?"

"Um, yeah," Joe replied, and he bit his bottom lip as he smiled. "I guess I oughta get off my high horse, I don't like pickles. I'll eat 'em if they come on a sandwich or whatever, but I don't like it. But she'll take them off my hands and eat them for me; at the deli or whatever and I get one of those spears with my sandwich, and she's eating it for me before we're even out the door."

"Joseph Quinn, you hypocrite!" Josh exclaimed and Joe chortled. "Making fun of picky eaters but not eating pickles! For shame, sir!"

"It's my one flaw!" Joe cried. "Otherwise I'm perfect!"

You couldn't help your snort, and Joe turned to you in a flash. "Oh, do you have something to say, Mrs. Quinn?" he asked. "Something to add?"

"You thinking not eating pickles is your one flaw is very funny," you told him, smoothing your hand down Anthony's hair. "I could talk about the sock situation in our laundry room at the moment, or how your windowsill herb garden has spilled out onto our balcony, or how you always rile up the dog and Ant before bedtime, or—"

"Alright!" Joe whined playfully, and Anthony squealed out a laugh, recognizing Daddy's play-voice. "I get it! Stop the attack, woman, jeez."

"She's got a list," Josh smiled. "Are there any foods that are, like, special to you? Make you think of home or anything like that?"

"Um, yeah," Joe said thoughtfully. "Obviously a roast chicken. Umm, oddly, we have these little biscuits in the U.K., like it's a layer of sponge, then orange jam, then chocolate, but they're small, we have 'em with tea— they're called Jaffa cakes, and I don't have strong opinions on them, but my wife calls me Jaffa Cake when she's being sweet to me."

"Why Jaffa Cake?" Josh wheezed. "Are you just particularly sweet like one of those cookies?"

"Well, my initials," Joe began. "They're J.A.F, and one time a while ago, when we first started dating, we went out and she got very drunk. I ended up bringing her back to my flat because I didn't want her having to get an Uber alone back to her's, and she raided the pantry while I was showering, and she was eating out a packet of Jaffa cakes that my roommate had when I got back, and... I don't know, she was hammered and started laughing and calling me that, and she's never stopped."

You were glad he cut the story off there, because the detail Joe neglected to mention was that he had given you his bed to sleep in, and when you woke up the next morning, you had gotten ill in his bathroom. He had held your hair back and wiped your mouth with a washcloth when you were done, and he had kissed you for the very first time, even after you warned him that he probably didn't want to do that. While it was a very sweet story, you still burned with embarrassment at the memory of how drunk you had gotten that night.

"But yeah," Joe said. "Whenever I'm away from home and missing her, I track down a package of Jaffa cakes, and just even the smell of 'em make me think of my girl."

"Along with a roast chicken," Josh added, and Joe sputtered through his lips.

"Chicken and biscuits, the perfect way to think of my wife," Joe said. "You should come over next time you're in London. I'll roast you a chicken."

"That was... A lot of eye contact just then," Josh laughed. "I'm almost nervous now."

"Nah, don't be," Joe smiled. "I'll roast you a chicken, my son will show you his LEGO collection, we'll have a grand time."

[kithtaehyung]

busted (3tan) (m) | myg

title: busted  pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) , jungkook x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: when things go a bit south at your house party, decisions between you and yoongi have to be made. note: well. here we are, y’all. it’s been quite a long time, but we are back to regularly scheduled programming :’)) thank you to everyone that has supported and encouraged me throughout this whole process – and series, for that matter. i couldn’t have done this without y’all and the next part is already in the works. also i cried a lot writing this lol have fun! note 2: happy birthday, hedgehog! and to colourless and nicki and whoever else had birthdays recently, consider this my gift to y’all! warnings: language, the amount of content itself fck i’m so sorry, parties, alcohol consumption, tense situations, shoving, abandonment mentions (parental), obligatory yoongi on the phone, ch*king, head/hair pulling, reader has a pain kink and it shows oops, angst, overthinking :((, penetrative s*x, chains but come on now, protective s*x, cowgirl, or*l (m/f rec), edg*ng a ha ha, thro*tf*cking, kissing :’))), kissing D:, did i say angst?, bro😵‍💫, but also bro😭, jungkook gets a warning too, yoongi’s jeans are as ripped as he is heyo, hitting from the b b back, yoongi king of consent sheesh, multiple org*sms, spitting lmfao, sl*t/wh*re mentions, yoongi jfc lol, the aftercare y’all i–😭, the ending🧍  drop date: june 9th, 2023, 7:17pm est  word count: 18.8k gdi

-

-

Here goes nothing and everything.

It was fifteen years ago when you first met Jungkook. When the sidewalks in your neighborhood were fewer and the occupancy in your house was higher. 

A tiny boy, he was immediately ready to stay by your side, despite the limited amount of time he got to hang around before his parents corralled his energy back inside their car. 

Later on, he would tell you that had something to do with them not wanting him influenced by your brother and his group. But you didn’t know that at the time. 

Ever since the two of you met, you became the best of friends. And as you grew older, it was only natural that feelings bloomed with everything else. 

In the midst of an ever changing garden, you found something that never wavered, vibrant in color and immovable at its root. 

Which was strange. You’d never compared people to flora before him. 

But, because of Jungkook, you couldn’t help but see everyone as such—lilies, buttercups, the ones that trap to survive. 

And he was the prettiest, strongest flower of them all.

There was rain. There were storms. But with them came hope, and a pair of cheap rings that the two of you bought nestled nicely in boxes, waiting to be unearthed when you were ready.

However. 

What also came was a lesson. One that you would learn again when two of every seat remained unused in your household. 

A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.

They change with or without you. 

And they pass by.

“We can go somewhere quieter if you want,” Jungkook offers. And you know he’s going to suggest your room before he even utters the words.

But of course he adds a small, “If I’m allowed in there anymore.”

When he laughs, your smile is as slow as your head shake, a few memories of old tasting bittersweet on your tongue. “We can.”

“Okay.”

When you make your way to your room, you hear the thumps of music and rhythms of conversation—both casual and loud—echoing throughout the house. Some people are sharing laughs, others are scooting just a bit closer, and a lucky one is cackling before demanding that everyone hand over their money. 

All of them oblivious to the fact that you’re about to rip off a piece of your heart.

Well. That may not be the case. But based on the conversation that you had with Jungkook before your interview, this wasn’t going to be an easy one in the slightest—not for him, nor for you.

But if he’s gonna keep pushing forward, this is a stop you need to put up regardless.

During a party isn’t what you had in mind, though. Much less one in your own house.

You don’t know if anyone sees you open your door for Jungkook to pass through, or if they notice the slump of your mood, but you figure no one will care anyways. 

Until you see someone out of the corner of your peripheral.

And the skip of your heart tells you who it is.

Occupying one of the hallways a ways away, you can tell he’s very aware of you despite being in the middle of a chatty group.

But what’s on his mind? Is he worried? Is he gonna ask what this is about?

Damn it. You’re just gonna have to tell him later. You can’t exactly do anything now. 

A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,

“You okay?”

Fuck. 

Turning, you nod to the boy in your room before shutting your door, giving one more look to the man whose last text you couldn’t read.

And the way he stares makes you wanna bolt from everyone entirely.

When your door clicks shut, you slowly swivel, only the bass of your brother’s music pushing the walls in closer. 

Jungkook’s doing exactly what you knew he’d do, wandering around your room and either leaning in to observe, or lightly touching things that he remembers. 

The soft puff of a laugh snaps you into focus. “I can’t believe you still have all his medals up.”

Ah. He even remembers the way you have all your brother’s trophies and achievements displayed—all because you liked seeing them shine, and he didn’t want them in his room.

Sweeping your gaze along two of your walls, you let out a tiny sound of amusement while agreeing, “I can. Too lazy to take them down.” 

“I can do it,” he immediately responds. “If you need me to.”

If it had been five years ago, you would’ve been enamored that he even offered.

But five years ago is when he shattered any hopes you had for the two of you, so you turn him down yet again. “It’s okay.” 

“You sure?”

“We’re here to talk, not decorate, Jungkook.”

He stares before nodding in dejection, eyes finding something other than you. “It’s still weird to hear you say my name.”

It’s weird to say it. 

But you can’t let him know you agree, so the sound you make is half-cautious and weakly lighthearted. “You think so?”

“Ah, yeah.” He flashes a smile that still squeezes air from your lungs. “I’d gotten too used to all the names you had for me.”

“Oh, god.”

“But I guess someone else gets to hear them now.”

Goddamn it. He’s not gonna give up, just like he said right before your interview. 

“Who are you seeing?” 

“Kook…” 

“I wanna know.” 

“Why?”

He walks over to your nightstand, picking up a picture of you and your friends from years back. 

And your heart pangs at how big his back has become. 

Without turning, Jungkook lifts his head to stare at your ceiling. And if he’s wondering whether the glow stars he stuck all over it are still there or not, you don’t know if you’d admit that you never took them down. 

“So that I’d know if I still have a chance.” 

“You already had yours,” you whisper. “Remember?”

And when you look up, he’s already staring at you with regret. 

Memories start to come back, but you shove them away with force, trying to empty your sinking boat with a teaspoon. 

Every time he had walked back from school with you, every time he would make you laugh when you felt alone, every time he stayed at your place when your brother had to be out—all of them competed with each other to punch you in the gut and push you to your knees. 

“I do,” is all he says before softly placing the frame on your bed. “I fucked that up, didn’t I.” 

The times he said he’d be there when you needed him, the times he said it was gonna be okay when you struggled with your seemingly deepest darkest secrets. 

All the times you knew you’d have a long future with him. 

“You did.”

Everything leading up to the time he said you should break up before you left for university.

Right before you were going to tell him you loved him.

Your heart hasn’t beat in awhile, but you don’t notice until Jungkook starts walking towards your planted feet. Was he really so far away? How did he cover the distance between so fast?

With a sigh occupying your chest, you muse that he looks so different, but also not different at all. 

And just like the time you saw him downtown, your brain doesn’t know how to separate the Jungkook you knew from the one you see in front of you. 

Because they are still the same.

You don’t budge as he stands resolute, inches away but encasing you in his familiar presence. When his hand comes up to your face, he almost touches—but the slight hesitation has you holding your breath before he surrenders his hand at his side. 

“I was an idiot,” he admits, throat seemingly small and making yours the same size. “I never should’ve… I can’t believe I…” 

You watch as he flips his head up, and you hate how you know exactly what he’s trying to hide. 

But your soul still remembers the wound it was dealt. So while you don’t want him feeling this way, you’re perfectly okay to fight back. 

He doesn’t get to cry when he’s the reason for all those tears. 

“And yet you did,” you remind him, proud of how stable your voice leaves lips that used to seek his. “And you left me so fucking confused.” 

“I know.”

“Do you really?” 

He flickers regretful eyes your way, giving you all the room to talk. 

And you’re going to.

“Do you actually know, Kook? How fucked up that made me feel right before going where I knew nobody. No one.” 

His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch. 

You expel a tough breath, everything that happened before bubbling up to the surface. The nights you spent wondering what happened, the days you spent feeling unwanted, the times you felt so fucking alone.

“Is it true that you even loved me?”

“Yes,” he finally shatters, face contorting and eyes welling at their rims. “Of course I did.” 

Did.

“I still do.”

Liar.

“I thought I was the only one.” You search his eyes, hating how you would comfort him in an instant if this were any other circumstance. Hating, hating, loathing that this is how you find out your love wasn’t unrequited. “Why did you push me away?” 

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…” He turns, unable to handle the loud silence streaming from your bones. Voice shaken, he flounders, “I don’t know. I’ve—” 

When he pauses, it’s to keep his lips from shaking. You just know it. 

“I’ve regretted it every day since.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“I have!”

“Really. So all those texts you never sent were full of regret, too, huh?” 

“No, I—”

“All those calls you never made.” 

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

He digs palms into the soaking divots of his face, tense at all angles and making you so, so angry that this is what the both of you have come to. 

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

You thought it would feel better seeing him cry. 

But it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. You hate this. 

Because Jungkook made sure your tears were short-lived. Made sure to chase them away every single time—

There’s a rapid twist of your locked doorknob before you hear a shout,

“What the hell’s going on in there!”

Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling? 

…Were you both that loud?

“We’re fine!” you shout back, embarrassed that your fight somehow managed to outperform the aux. “It’s okay.”

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

“Promise!” You look toward the shouts. “We’re okay.” 

“…Okay.”

And then it’s completely silent.

But you know he hasn’t left. 

Fuck, he can’t hear the rest of this. He shouldn’t have heard any of it in the first place, and you can feel the heat of his questions coming later tonight. 

Which, you are fine answering when it’s just the two of you. But you cannot have anyone hovering right now so you go to open the door and tell him off, 

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi’s right there with him.

And your heart fucking lurches.

Fuck fuck fuck they both see your tears and you’re getting moved aside before you know it now there’s—

“The fuck are you doing making them cry?”

“Wait, it’s not like th—”

“You come into our house after years—”

“Stop!”

“And pull some shit like this?”

Alarmed, you squeeze yourself between him and a very wide-eyed Jungkook, having to wrestle an angry wrist off a captured bicep. “Seriously, relax!”

You and your brother have a thousand differences. 

But one thing you two have in common? 

He’s just as stubborn as you are. 

A strong swipe moves you back so fast that your feet can’t keep up, and you find yourself stumbling until firm hands and familiar cologne keep you upright, voices springing up all at once.

“I’m not—”

“Hey—!”

“The fuck—”

“What’s wrong with you?” you question, commanding attention and snagging both your brother’s and Jungkook’s stares.

Barely even caring if they see where you are and who’s holding you. 

Because this is all stupid. It’s not fucking high school and you aren’t some kid that needs their useless, shitty, good-for-nothing parents to stand up for them. 

Resisting Yoongi’s grip until he lets go, you stalk up to rip your brother’s hand off your ex’s arm, voice darkened and sharp, “Get out.”

Breath hard, the reply you get is directed more at Jungkook than your own pinched brows, 

“Why should I.”

“Cus it’s fine,” you shoot out, sparing a glance at Yoongi and regretting it immediately. 

Because he’s not looking at you. He probably wasn’t ever looking at you.

No. Based on that look alone, he’s been eyeing Jungkook with an energy that sends chills straight through your veins.

It’s so unmoving, so infernal that your throat dries, forcing you to swallow before laying more reassurance on three pairs of tense shoulders. “It’s alright, okay? We’re just talking.”

“…So it’s like that?”

Jungkook immediately replies to your sibling with a monotone, “Of course it is.”

To which he moves forward again before you stop him with a hand and a shout, 

“The fuck it isn’t—” 

“It is! Fucking hell, dude...” 

You force an exhale, hating how your room is overflowing while you’re still drowning in the conversation prior. 

Because now one talk is gonna sprout into three, and you already dread what each one is going to look like when it develops. 

You hope Jungkook understands that you’re done. 

You hope your brother understands that you’re tired. 

And, above all the others, you hope to any high power out there that Yoongi understands that you are anything but finished. 

When the tension doesn’t budge, you sigh and shift your weight.

“Look. We’re just talking. But I need to speak to him alone.” You breathe with finality, eyeing your sibling and his ride or die—hating and loving how ready they are to do whatever they need to, together.

But they don’t have to do anything. 

Except let you do this yourself. 

“Please.” 

After a moment, they both look over your shoulder before your brother watches your face again. 

But Yoongi seems to have finally caught Jungkook’s attention, because his eyes haven’t broken their lock until you say something,

“Trust me.”

Two weighty seconds pass before both men nod. And they leave without a word, emotions toppling on each other as soon as your door shuts. 

When you walk up to lock it shut, you stare at the knob in silence. 

While that was massively uncalled for, it could’ve gone much worse. You can already think of over a hundred outcomes, because that’s a look you’ve seen on your brother many times. 

However. That’s not what has you lost in thought.

What keeps you frozen is the fact that you have never seen Yoongi like that.

It almost scared you, but somehow comforts you all the same. You can still feel the way he subtly squeezed you in assurance, pressing you into him when you really didn’t fall that far. There’s a jittering in your chest that hasn’t simmered, and it makes you feel like you’re halfway floating back to where Jungkook stands.

But you’re promptly grounded when you rejoin him, voice soft when you ask if he’s okay. 

“He hasn’t changed,” is all he whispers. 

And you look at the door with a sigh of disappointment. “He has a little. Still uptight as ever, but. At least I can leave the house.” 

“Yoongi was a surprise.”

Oxygen abandons your lungs before you quickly catch yourself. “They’re best friends.”

Jungkook glares at the floor in thought before exhaling, and his silence seems charged. Almost off.

“Right.”

…Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

Is it because he saw when Yoongi caught you? Or the fact that he showed up at all? 

“Hey,” you whisper, hoping to rope him away from whatever scary things he could be pondering. When he flicks his attention to you, it takes a lot to not flinch at his watery eyes. “Ignore them. We aren’t finished here.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and your conversation jumps right back to where it was. “For everything.” 

“I know.” You close your eyes before sadness lowers your gaze. “But it’s gonna hurt for awhile.” 

Even if you get this closure, it can’t cover all the years he made you doubt yourself. Made you feel like everything you went through was a lie and that love was something you just didn’t deserve. Confidence vaporized as a result, leaving nothing but issues and manufactured intimacy for years. 

Maybe that’s why everyone said you were a bad lay before. Because you actually were. 

Through your thick haze, you hear a faint, broken, 

“You loved me?”

“I…” Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. “I still do.”

“What?”

Fuck. 

It’s true. While he broke your heart first, he still cared for it more than anyone else after him had—until recently. The only grief he gave you was the breakup, which was why it threw you for an absolute loop. 

As you grew up, though, you started to rationalize that the split was a good decision. He was moving, and you were leaving for college. How would you both have fared with the long distance? It probably would have ended one way or the other anyways. 

So while the resentment burned your heart, it didn’t quite rid you of affection. What you feel as a result is similar to before, but so very, very different. Subdued. Faded. Like jeans you wore constantly but haven’t touched in years. 

In all honesty, what broke you the hardest was losing a dear friend. 

“I do,” you finally admit, not looking at him because of your next words, “But not the way you want me to.” 

Jungkook doesn’t respond, letting the outside world bleed into the room like a bitter interlude.

When he still makes no sound, you lift weary eyes to check on him.

And your chest constricts at the way he looks utterly and totally lost. 

When you call his name, his gaze doesn’t leave the floor. When you whisper it again, the tear that falls makes you weak. “Kook, what’s wrong?”

He finally looks up, and you feel your eyes quickly reflect his. “I was so stupid,” he sniffles, wiping his nose. “I really didn’t know. Honestly, I knew that was impossible.” 

For some reason, this makes you chuckle, and a new mood starts to paint the walls. “Why?”

“Because you were so cool.” His smile hasn’t changed. And that’s what cuts the deepest. “And I was just there because I always was.” 

“What?” You start to join him in bittersweet recollection, albeit from a different perspective. When you reach forward to point at his necklace—because you will not touch the ring—you softly laugh. “Then what were these for, silly?” 

When he sighs, you can feel the cracks in his curve. “I’ve been told that I’m clueless.” 

“You are,” you say with a sagging grin. “Extremely.” 

He laughs again. So do you. 

And the both of you break all at once. 

He’s crushing you in a hug and you’re crying into his clothes, hands gripping at his jacket and shoulder feeling the weight of his world. 

While he repeats that he’s sorry, you choke out that you are, too. When he says it was never your fault, you cry even harder. 

You fucking hate this. Now that you know the truth, it hurts that much worse. You hate, hate, hate that this is what everything came to. Everything that you both went through, destroyed by one mistake at the bitter end. 

But you need to move on. You need to sacrifice the past for the future. 

“I still love you,” he whispers, and you tense when he tightens his arms. “And I’m still sorry.”

“You idiot,” you cry into his chest, and you hear him hold back a sob before burying his head again.

And the two of you stay like that. One last embrace that you both needed.

Reminiscing over everything that doesn’t matter anymore.

When you both calm, you feel like it’s been hours. 

But you move to step away first, confused at the way he doesn’t let you leave. 

What’s he doing? Why is his mouth hovering over yours? You need to move. You need to move away. 

But all you can do is plead, “I can’t.”

Still, Jungkook moves in. 

Leaning to kiss just next to your lips instead.

What once would have lit your soul on fire now feels like a tempered flame, the smallest light of a candle before it burns out. And you’re grateful that he respects you enough to not push in a time of weakness. 

You move away again, and he lets you go this time. But not without last words, “Promise me this person is alright.”

“I promise.” 

“Only alright? I have a chance then.”

“Kook.” When you give him an empty glare, dying stars still linger in his eyes. “Friends?”

His lips give away his breaking heart before he nods. “I’m not leaving you again.”

Swallowing, you spread a thankful smile. “You better not,” you sniffle. “I need to decorate.” 

He huffs, giving you one more teary stare. “If they ever hurt you, let me know.” 

“I’ll be okay.” 

After a noncommittal nod, he stands until you politely tell him you need a minute. When he leaves, you wait until the door shuts before wiping nothing from your cheek.

Wondering why this closure doesn’t make you feel better in the slightest.

You don’t know how long it’s been. Time doesn’t exactly flow when you’re caught between the past and the present. 

But when you open your door, Dom is watching you with pure, unadulterated focus.

And your face scrunches in pain before she ushers you back inside.

She doesn’t say anything as you sit on your bed, offering her shoulder even though she doesn’t prefer physical contact.

While you’re grateful—so, so thankful for her presence—intermittent sniffles are the only sound you’re capable of. 

Until you stabilize and come up for air, fishing words from your river of grief, “Remember what I told you. When he broke up with me.”

Anger simmers in her reply as her shoulder moves under your chin. You assume by the movements that she’s typing something on her phone—or prepping for revenge, either one of the two. “I do.”

“He said he still loves me.”

Your first thought is proven correct as a device plops onto your comforter. “Bullshit.”

“Dom…”

“What? Like he loved you then, too?” She scoffs. “You were the one that loved him and he cut you out. He needs to get over that.”

“He said it was a mistake.” 

“It sure as fuck was.” 

“I dunno. Something just doesn’t sit right.” You swipe at your nose. “He looked so.. I just…” 

“Uh uh. It’s too fresh.” She gently lifts your heavy cloud off her person, firm fingers squeezing out rain. “You gotta get out of your own damn head right now.” 

“I know.”

“Now.”

You break into another sob, hiccuping before nodding. “It just sucks, Dom. I d—”

“Look, I get that. But everything you’re thinking about already happened. It’s done.” A glance is thrown behind her back before she swivels around. “Focus on what you have now.” 

In your moments of weakness, you ask the dumbest things, 

“What do I have now.”

As always, Dominique is quick and to the point. “A man that’s waiting outside your door.”

Huh?

Your eyes flash up to hers as she stands. “Wait, what?”

What did she say? What does she mean? How does she know that what’s going on— 

“One minute,” she warns, far away and not to you. “Then you’re on your own.”

“K.”

Wait, what.

You don’t even realize you’re vacating your bed as you see him walk in, nodding back at Dom closing the door before regarding your wreck of a face. 

His name is molasses on your tongue.

What is he doing? Isn’t the party still on? Why is he walking closer? 

He’s not supposed to be in here he can’t be here and you’re telling him that but he pulls you in so tight that the rest of your tears rain down in sheets. 

“Fuck,” is all you can manage now, and he crushes you in even harder, as if he wants you pressed against all of him forever like a keepsake leaf on a journal page.

Your voice writes words into his clothes, silence his only reply but the only one you need. 

Even if you only get a minute, this is enough. It’s enough, not enough, enough.

When he holds you at arm’s length, his question comes out a bit fast-paced, “What happened?” 

Damn it. As much as you should probably tell him, you use precious seconds to pause, not really knowing if you want to or not. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he quickly understands, kissing your forehead just as chaste. When he moves again, you catch the tension in his shoulders, notice the ruffles in his hair. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yes. No.” Fuck, he kinda looks as rattled as you feel. What is happening right now? “I just, umm. I need a minute.”

“You don’t have to go back out there, you know.”

“But you do,” you counter. “And I just wanna see you.” 

Finally, Yoongi stops, and his whole upper body relaxes at once. A beautiful sound to your ears, amusement huffs out his nose before he mutters, “You can’t keep saying shit like that.” 

“But it’s true.” 

His chuckle is light, and mischievous eyes find the ground before they lift to yours,

“Makes me wanna take you home.” 

Well. You swiftly realize why he doesn’t want you to keep saying certain things. The zing of emotion through your body was definitely uncalled for. 

Any other day, you would want this type of conversation to keep going. And maybe you’d be a little coy about it. 

But right now, all you are is tired, and your barriers are crumbled enough for a truth to escape. 

Resigned, you step closer to wrap his waist in your arms, not caring if he can feel the rapid beats of your heart. “I want you to do that,” you admit, breath warming your face on his already warmer shirt. “All the time.” 

“Take you home?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Yoongi runs fingers along your arm. “You know I’d do it if I could, doll.” 

If you were someone else. If you didn’t have to hide. 

If you didn’t have to wait. 

At least you don’t have to wait for much longer. Definitely can’t say anything to your brother tonight, but you and Yoongi agreed on after this party. So things will be better from here on out. 

But why does he seem so—

You’re spooked by a warning knock on your door, and you flicker eyes to see his filled with something you don’t like. 

And the air suddenly shifts to something alarming.

“Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said we’d say something.”

Oh. You shake your head, already on the same page and liking how in sync you are. “There’s no way. At least, not tonight. Jungkook—”

“It may need to be a bit longer than that.”

Huh.

What does he mean by—

“So you probably won’t see me for awhile.”

You freeze. 

So does time. 

A minute is no longer enough.

“Yoongi, please—”

“Can you do that?”

Your heart slams against your ribcage, banging and banging and screaming that what he’s asking is not possible.

Because he isn’t asking what you want to do. He isn’t even asking how long you can wait. 

There’s a reason why he’s risking all sorts of shit to say this in person. Why he seems so restless. 

And you’re already missing him so hard it hurts.

Truthfully? You can’t do this. Not now. Not when your heart is bleeding out on your own bedroom floor. There isn’t even enough time to process Jungkook’s talk and now you need to deal with this?

“Babe?”

But despite what you feel, even if your throat is seizing and your chest is caving in, your answer will be what he needs. 

Because seeing Yoongi look like this—torn and frayed at the edges—renders you powerless and protective all at once. For fuck’s sake, he looks slightly panicked and this is the second new side of him you’ve seen tonight.

And yet he found a way to be with you one last time. 

Sacrificing seconds just to say goodbye. 

So you give up something, too. Your wants and needs because you don’t think you can do this, but it seems way too important to him to not try. 

You get it. That whole confrontation probably snapped all sense back into him. He doesn’t want to hurt his best friend. Or disrupt his work environment. Or both. Whatever whatever whatever. You should’ve seen this coming.

If distance is what he wants, you’ll give it. Instant karma because you just told someone else to give you some, too.

Of course you lose someone as soon as you gain back another.

“Doll, let me know because—”

“Anything,” you rush out, and yearning taints your voice on the descent. “I’ll do it.”

He pans from one eye to the other, and you weakly reveal a crack in your resolve,

“Anything for you.”

That answer was a lot more than what you meant to say. And the next look he gives rips you into shreds. Shreds of the bigger truth you just told him with moments left of his time.

“For us,” he corrects, swooping in to give you one more soul-shattering kiss.

And with that, he pulls away, turning to retreat into the real world that proves absurdly cruel. 

You don’t know when you’ll get to be alone with him again. It could be a day. Or months. Or even longer.

But watching him go, you know you can get through this. You know you can do it. 

Because this is nothing new. Just another person leaving. You’ve gone through it before and you’ll go through it again and this time will be different, right? Right? He’ll come back. Of course he will. 

And yet there’s still a part of you that questions.

If people are like seasons… 

Which one will Yoongi be?

Fuck.

Your body is moving before the rest of you does, and you propel forward to tug him in, flooding his lips with saltwater and longing and a deluge of reluctant trust. 

And he responds in an instant, swallowing you in an embrace you’ll cherish forever and willingly giving in to your desperate tugs on his jacket.

“Yoongi, I—”

You hear another insistent knock before he slings you into the nearest wall, and he grips the back of your head so hard you sob into his mouth. 

“I know.”

His name rattles around your mouth.

“It’ll be okay.”

You wanna believe him.

“Okay?”

But you only nod, eyes filled with oceans but gaze unwavering. Because you need to see him. Because you need to see him. 

“Fuck.” 

He smashes his lips on yours once more, capturing every soft plea for him to stay and holding you so tightly that your heart splinters. And while you know this is his way of telling you everything will be okay, you have a sinking suspicion that he is fighting to believe it himself.

It’s not fair.

None of this is fucking fair. 

If he was anyone else, if you were anyone else, if your brother wasn’t the way he was, if Jungkook wasn’t in the position he’s in now. 

It was just nights ago that you cradled all his moonlight in your palms.

And now you’ll be farther apart than stars. 

Yoongi finally pulls away right as Dom opens the door, and a myriad of emotions slosh into your brain when his eyes never leave you. 

“I got us,” he vows, finger on your chin the sole thing keeping you afloat, and you suspend in disbelief that someone you know is witnessing his lips press your forehead in real time and no explosions or helicopters are crashing onto the scene.

Just a panicked “Hurry up, for god’s sake!” to indicate your friend is not amused or phased.

Yoongi finally steps away, slowly backing up before slipping out, and the door closes with only you inside—hand clawing deep into your chest. 

Because you know him well enough.

He was committing your every feature to memory. 

And the desperation in his reddened eyes hunches you forward in pain.

The rest of the party goes on. Music booms, people laugh, conversations sparkle.

And you hear them all through your door.

Unmoved from the spot everyone left you in.

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: Hey

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: You up or nah?

You [1:40am]: yeah

Idiot🙄 [1:40am]: Help me clean up

You scoff at your phone, letting it fall from your hand before resting tired eyes between your knees. 

When it buzzes again, you reluctantly read it with vision unreflecting.

Idiot🙄 [1:42am]: Left food for you, too

That you will leave your room for. You may have just cried out your weight in tears alone.

You🙄 [1:46am]: ok

Idiot🙄 [1:46am]: 👍

Cleaning is a quiet event, with you both doing the chores you’ve defaulted to over the years. While he clears the floors and deals with the trash, you steadily get through the dishes, scrubbing them as well as you can before placing them in the washer to dry.

A plate. A bowl after that. 

Two whisky glasses even though there were plenty of solo cups to use.

You needed this. Needed a way of going through the motions and letting your brain fly on autopilot. If you sniffle, the water drowns it out, and only the dishes get to see any lingering tears.

And unluckily for you, there are plenty of both.

“Hey.”

You hum.

“Do I need to beat his ass?”

Well, that didn’t take long. 

Frustration tears its way up your throat on all fours, “I should kick yours for what you did back there.”

“And I’d deserve it.” 

You pause.

“But I still wanna know.” 

Sighing, you shake your head, knowing that neither of you are angry enough to fight anyways. “No, okay? I was serious. We talked.” 

“I know you talked but he still hurt you.”

Your lip stings under your teeth.

“And I can’t just let that go.”

When he stops, you place another dish on its rack. “Let’s just finish and I’ll tell you everything in a sec.” 

He sets down the last of his trash before retiring in the living room, the thump of weary weight squeezing a sigh out of the couch.

And you eventually join him, water cutting off with a squeak before you shuck off your gloves. 

As you walk through the cleaned-enough rooms, you keep hearing afterimages of conversations, wondering how many revolved around your shouting match with Jungkook, or how many speculated who Yoongi is or isn’t seeing. 

All these pretend scenarios mock you from all sides. 

But the conversation you’re about to have with your brother is gonna be real. And a long time coming, quite frankly. 

You take a breath before crossing into a space that’s seen and heard many things. While you take residence in your regular spot on the sofa, your brother doesn’t deter his gaze from a television that’s not on.

But as soon as you blurt out your confession, he slowly closes his eyes. 

“He broke up with me. Before I left for school.” 

“...Why didn’t you tell me.”

Brows scrunched, you waste no time in pinning him with your response, “Did you see yourself back there? Imagine if you found out back then.”

Silence. 

“Besides,” you continue, deflating back into the cushions, “He was moving, remember? And you had enough going on. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I always worry.” 

“It’s whatever at this point. I didn’t even know he was back until Yoo—you told me.”

Shit, that was close. 

“I shouldn’t have made it a surprise.” 

“Not your fault. What’s done is done.” When you observe the blank screen, you can see your brother aim a look your way. “Just made the whole uni thing miserable at first.” 

And the years after, too, but he doesn’t need the same details that Yoongi got. 

He sighs, hand scratching the side of his head before free-falling. When it’s quiet, you think he’s preparing for war. Prepping a vow to go after Jungkook and dealing with a problem that’s not yours anymore. 

But he doesn’t do that. What he says catches you completely off guard.

An apology.

“I’m sorry I’m always gone. Or not really here when I’m back.” 

Where did that come from? Are you already done with a talk you dreaded for years? 

This can’t be it. 

Blinking, your mouth slowly opens before you respond as level as possible. “It’s okay. I can pretty much fend for myself at this point.” 

“I know. But I’ll try to be better.” 

He’s gonna what? “Why?”

“Cus I feel… Uhh.” He moves his lips around in thought, as if the next sentence takes strategy to arrange. “I feel like we don’t really talk anymore.” 

“…Oh.”

You’re thoroughly thrown. Because who the hell is this person you’re talking to right now? What’s up with him? He doesn’t need to try anything better except calm the fuck down sometimes. And let you be an adult.

And frankly, you feel like you talk a normal amount anyway. At least, you didn’t think anything was off about it. 

What the hell happened after he left your room?

Suddenly, you see him laugh at the ground before asking it a question. “Remember when we’d go get our own food?” 

Alright, he’s definitely drunk or a clone. 

But you’ll take it. This switch in what you expected this conversation to be is a welcome one, and you softly entertain memories that aren’t supposed to be this funny. “Yeah. We’d get told to come back with our parents.” 

“Until they realized we kept going alone.” 

A memory makes you smirk. “You even tried dressing like a grown up.” 

He chuckles again, elbows resting on his knees as he watches your coffee table. “I really thought I did it, too.” 

“You did.” Thinking about all the shit you both went through, it’s truly a wonder how you’re both still here. Living and existing and doing big things. 

A rueful chuckle leaves your lips, floating to the floor. “We’re fucked up, huh.” 

“Very,” he agrees. “But who isn’t.” 

True. “It could be worse, I think.” 

“How?” 

You play with some of the frays on your sofa, wondering when this piece of furniture started to resemble thin lines of too-soft polyester at its edges. 

Did it start to give up around the same time your parents did? Or had their patience worn thin way before the threads on this cushion began to fade? 

Whichever truth remains, at least it’s still here—witnessing all the struggles and triumphs, the highs and lows, and all the times the two of you had sat in puffy-eyed silence. 

Together. 

“They could’ve left us somewhere else.” 

“Ah,” he nods, slowly shaking his head and twisting the watch on his wrist. “Nah.” 

Silent, your eyes find his side profile in due time. “No?”

And his glare burns the path ahead. Just like it always has. “I wouldn’t have let them.” 

“Oh, really.”

“I got them to leave us all this, didn’t I?”

Wait, he did what now?

…You didn’t know that. 

“Hold on,” you breathe slow. “That’s what happened?”

“We had a deal.” He sighs before leaning all the way back, hands joined at the knuckles on his stomach. “If I graduated with full marks and, uhh. Got a starting salary high enough, they’d pay for your tuition.”

The pause he makes weighs a ton. 

“And leave this to us when you came back.” 

So… He… 

Holy shit. 

You were just fucking relieved you didn’t have to pay any loans. For once, you thought your parents really had your best interests in mind and did something out of kindness before peacing the fuck out. 

But it’s all because your brother negotiated and pulled off the near impossible? 

…Is he paying loans? 

“I didn’t know any of that,” you whisper, finding yourself on the verge of tears again.

He simply shrugs, looking down at his cherished piece that he rarely takes off. “You didn’t need to. You were just a kid.”

“So were you.”

Your brother purses his lips, and you wonder what words he could be holding back. What thoughts he has that he won’t say out loud. If any of them are things he wants to say but can’t. 

“It’s whatever.”

He had to grow up fast so that you didn’t have to. 

And you don’t have the heart to tell him that university fast tracked that anyways. 

So, while grateful as hell and knowing you’ll be thinking about this conversation for years, you switch the subject. You’re already overwhelmed as is. 

And you suddenly understand what Yoongi might be struggling with, too. 

Because if he did all this for you, what lengths has he gone for his best friend? 

Shoving that thought into a far corner of your brain, you rest your head to mirror your sibling, letting your tears slide back to where they came from. “I, umm. Was wondering why they left us the house. But I figured they just didn’t wanna pay for it.” 

“It was already paid off,” he explains, seemingly just as happy to talk about something else. “Don’t ask me how I know this, but it’s how I was able to negotiate in the first place. They had four other properties, and a condo on some island.” 

“What.”

“That’s why they were rarely here. Work trips, my ass.” He scoffs before bouncing a leg. “And they had us in this place.” 

“I like it here, though.”

“I do, too, but…” You hear a shuffle of his feet before he stops. “I just. I dunno, it’s just us here. It feels...” 

“Empty?” 

“Maybe. More like something’s missing? I dunno, that’s probably lame.” 

You inhale before assuring him. “It’s not.” 

And with that, you’re both left to stare at the same ceiling, conversation stewing and simmering around the whole room.

Usually, this is when you leave. Because you don’t wanna talk about shit like this, or you simply feel like doing anything else. 

But tonight, you want to stay. You didn’t know these things about your brother and what he did, and it’s making you realize a lot of things. 

And regret others. 

A question rolls off your tongue before you can overthink it, “Do you ever wonder what we did wrong?” 

“All the time.” 

“When I think about it, I always end up thinking the same thing.” 

“Hmm.” 

You tilt your head his way. “We weren’t the adults. But neither were they.” 

And you both huff in tandem after he grins. “Damn.” 

You don’t know how the two of you got here. But it was much better than talking about anything else, and you silently thank him for not making you more miserable than you already were. 

Truthfully, you feel a little better instead.

He just needs to know for sure that you really are past the whole situation. Mostly. A healthy amount, at least. 

So you tell him. “I mean it, thou—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” You look over to see regret fill his side of the couch.

“For what I did. I was outta line.”

“Oh.” You swallow, surprisingly emotional that he’s even owning up to it. You know it only happened because he was being protective, but hearing this from him is huge. That had to be hard. “Thank you.”

“I just.. I love you, okay?” He turns to look at the ceiling again, and you quickly have to do the same because you know how that was even tougher to say. “You and my brothers.. You’re all I’ve got.” 

Liquid emotion runs down your cheek, never having been told that more than once in a single day.

It’s a shame how foreign it sounds when you say it back. 

But that doesn’t make it any less true.

“Love you, too.”

An hour later, you find yourself in bed, clutching your phone while a single question loops through your brain.  

…Calling should be okay, right?

Even if you can’t see him, or really be in the same room, this should be okay. At least, in the dead of night when even birds are asleep. When no one is awake to judge you both for lying to the people you... 

Your chest squeezes when you press down on your decision, the talk with your brother repeating in your ears.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

It’s ringing.

Still ringing.

…And you feel your chest cave when you hear it go to voicemail.

Fuck. 

Maybe he’s sleeping already. Unforeseen circumstances like emotional turmoil tend to slow down your getting ready for bed process, so it took a lot longer than usual. Maybe he isn’t actively avoiding your calls and is just face down in a pillow you miss using.

And maybe you need to get used to this god-awful feeling as quickly as you can. 

This hollow, aching, painful feeli—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Your chest booms when you see his name, and you try your absolute hardest to answer normally even though instant tears blur the screen.

“H—”

“Sorry, I was showering, fuck.”

His breath sounds so rushed, and you immediately wonder what he looks like if he didn’t take that long to answer. Imagining him in only a towel or less, you let out a pained chuckle before whispering, “You okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

Of course that’s his answer. “I’m not. Just wondering if you were.”

“Why would I be if you aren’t? Ow.”

Body alert, you only focus on that last syllable. “Wait, are you hurt?”

You hear a low grunt before he responds. 

“Just hit my fucking knee getting out.” 

Ouch. How the hell did he do that? “I’m sorry. You got ice, though, right?” 

“It’s not that bad. Just stings.” 

“Okay.”  

There’s some crunching sounds before you hear footsteps and hisses, and a thump before other noise crackles through. 

“Spoke to Kook.” 

Shit.

“And the guys.”

Oh. About work. “What’s up?”

“We’re gonna be busy as shit for the next month or two, so.. Guess that came at a good time.” 

Ah. No finish line in sight.

But he didn’t hide that information from you, so you appreciate the honesty. Better than him leaving you in complete darkness.

“Yeah, do your thing,” you support. “I need to prep for this interview anyway. And figure shit out if I end up getting the job.” 

“When you get it.”

You exhale, shy. “When I get it, yeah.”

“Where is it again? That blue building, yeah?”

“Mmhmm. But where I’ll be is like, third floor.”

“See? Claiming shit already.”

You realize right as he says it, but you meant something completely different. Your laugh is soft. “I meant for the interview.” 

“Mm. Well lemme know where you post up after they hire you.”

“Yoongi.”

“Fine.”

“Did you, umm. Did you and Kook talk about anything else?”

“Just work stuff.”

“Okay.” Your eyes lower. If he’s telling you everything, you gotta reciprocate. 

Even the stuff you don’t wanna mention. “He tried to kiss me.”

“What.”

Swallowing at his tone, you whisper, “I told him I couldn’t.” 

“…I see.”

Fuck. He does not sound okay with that in the slightest. Disappointed with yourself, you apologize, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh? Don’t be.”

“You sound mad.”

There’s another moment of silence, and you don’t think you breathe until he responds,

“Not at you, doll.”

Well, shit. You don’t wanna cause any friction between them, especially after the energy Jungkook gave off earlier. It’s still bugging you to hell. “Nothing happened, baby. But he felt really off after y’all left, so.. I dunno. Be careful.”

“I will. But that means I can’t talk when he’s around.”

You bury your head, watching the hours that you get with Yoongi dwindle away. Knowing Jungkook, he’s gonna immerse himself in whatever keeps him distracted. So he will most likely be at the studio just as much. “At least you were there today,” you whisper. 

“Mm.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect that.” 

There’s a breath on the line, and you can tell he’s hesitant just by the way he moves his phone. So when he finally speaks, your jaw goes slack.

“I was there first, doll.” 

He what?

“Wait… You were?” 

He was at your door first? He has to know how that looked, right? Your brother clearly saw him if he was the one to shout, and yet there was no mention of it when the two of you spoke. 

Maybe that’s part of why Yoongi decided what he did. A decision to help you came with consequences he knew were coming. But he did it anyway. 

Your breath is suddenly short. And your head is starting to spin with information overload.

“The plan was to only check for a sec, but he had the same idea. Showed up right behind me.” 

“So… You both heard—”

“Nothing until the yelling.” 

They were there the whole time. Both of them. Yoongi first? Your brother joining him? 

Nope. This is too much. All of this is way too much for one night and your head is bursting at the seams. 

Just another reason why this separation could be a good thing. Other than the fact that Jungkook seems weird and you can’t see Yoongi at all and him and your brother really are more than friends and you wedged yourself right in between everybody—

Information. Realizations. Guilt. You’re spiraling. 

Run.

“I’m, umm. I’m gonna get off now.” 

“You okay?”

Say yes. Say anything but “No. I’m… I don’t know, I really don’t know—This is a lot and—”

“Wait—” 

“I get it and I’ll stay away for as long as you want—”

“Babe, talk to—”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

And you immediately hang up before your dam floods.

He doesn’t need to hear your grief over the past, your regrets of the present, your fear of the future. He doesn’t need to know how pained you really feel dealing with everything at once. How harsh his departure is because this is when you need him most. 

Yoongi: Missed Call

All he needs to know is that you’ll do this for him. Because he would do the same for you. 

And he’s done enough for everyone other than himself. 

But goddamn if this doesn’t hurt like nothing else you’ve experienced before. 

And you’ve been through hell.

Yoongi: Missed Call (2)

Why is he calling? Won’t this just make it harder?

Why does he keep trying if you need to stay away?

Yoongi: Incoming Call

With a heart so busted you don’t know where all the pieces are, you finally reach up to acknowledge his effort. 

And his greeting sends a pang through your chest.

“Knew you’d answer on the first try.” 

Sniffling, you say his name so, so softly.  

“You didn’t let me say bye.”

When you don’t respond, he trudges on.

“So now, you get to hear the longest good night ever.”

Huh? 

“And no hanging up this time.”

What the heck does he… mean… 

As soon as you hear the light strums of a guitar, your heart shows signs of life. And you let everything out while he gathers the scattered shards with every chord. Every note. 

Every second he doesn’t say goodbye.

A river flows into your pillow until it runs dry, and the Moon outside your blinds casts a silver blanket over your defeated shoulders.

And it’s only when you and your phone are dead to the world that the Sun steps in to peel it off with calm palms.

For the first time in a long time, you plan a sleepover at Taehyung’s. 

And after getting a rundown of what happened, he completely agrees that you both need it.

It’s been a minute since you slept over there, and rolling onto his driveway makes you remember the first time it happened. 

Your brother was outright flabbergasted you even asked. 

But after some arguments from you and very clear energy from Tae, your brother waved you off and just demanded no funny shit better happen. 

And you’ve spent so many nights over there since then that Taehyung’s one of the people he calls if he’s looking for you. 

Being reminded of something else interesting, you think back to the first time you went to Yoongi’s, spending enough time there that he ended up on the list of people to call about your whereabouts. 

As hot as he was picking up with a cheeky arm around you, it was surprising he was on that list in the first place. 

Well, maybe not. They’re best friends. But why would he—

“You just gonna waste gas in my driveway or what?” 

Snapping your head up, you see Taehyung looking bored, hands on his hips and wearing the most comfortable clothes you’ve ever seen. 

Your glare in return is empty when you finally get out, circling around to grab your stuff and take-out from the passenger seat. 

“You’re lucky I like you,” you joke as he goes to grab the food. Locking your car, you follow his grumbles into the house with a laugh, feeling a little okay already.

“How’s Jimin?”

“Still complicated, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

You sigh before you poke your noodles, knowing you have quite the catch-up to get through. If only your attempt at procrastination worked.

“Eat,” Taehyung orders before taking a hearty slurp of his meal. “I don’t care if you’re sad, this wasn’t cheap.” 

“Excuse you.” He’s lucky you resist the urge to fling saucy food all over his shorts. “Also, I paid for it, the hell?” 

When your friend blows air through his nose, you scoff before silently doing as he says, pouting at the beginning credits onscreen.

“How long has it been?”

Ah. That’s a good start. 

As you peer down at your food, emotion and appetite abandon your palate,

“A month.”

“...Damn.” 

Taehyung already knows all about what happened. But even if he didn’t, you think he would’ve caught on to your increasingly depressing song choices. And the way you barely watched Yoongi during the last intramural game. 

“How’s the new job, though? Good distraction?” 

That you can talk about for hours. “Thank fuck it is.” 

“That’s good, at least.”

As your meal progresses, you continue to catch him up on everything, including the way night calls are the only thing keeping your hopes afloat. 

Because Yoongi was right. Ever since the party, weekdays have been radio silent, and you soon got accustomed to looking forward to his late texts saying he’s home.

And you’ve been okay with that. Landing the job and getting swamped with training has kept you busy, and your friends have been a wonderful salve for persisting wounds.

It just stings when you know the studio is close by. Because even though Yoongi extended invitations before, you avoid that area like the plague.

“But enough about me,” you huff. “Still complicated with him, huh.” 

If Taehyung knows you’re too sad to keep talking, he doesn’t show it. His response simply comes after a few chews. “Yeah. But”—he swallows—“Not in a way I’m mad about.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Taehyung settles back into the sofa right as a ball of fluff hops on, and you watch the movie roll by while he gently orders him to get down. “He’s not as flaky. We just haven’t really labeled anything yet.” 

That’s surprising to hear. Tae doesn’t strike you as the labeling type at all, so your question is genuine, “Do you need one?” 

A huff is what you get in return, and you can hear the smile in his tone. “He seems to want one more than me. Which is why I don’t get the hesitation.” 

“Mm.” 

That makes more sense. Knowing what you know about Jimin, you aren’t shocked he would be conflicted about something he really wants. 

Why he’s skirting around the point is the question. It’s clear to you that they would be so cute together. And sickly annoying in public. 

“Maybe that’s a good sign,” you blurt, roping your friend’s gaze and attention. Spotlight on you instead of the characters bustling about his television, you smile. “It’s like he’s scared because he cares about your feelings.” 

Not unlike what’s happening between another pair of friends you know.

Taehyung blinks, and you’ve always liked the way curiosity widens his eyes. 

But he’s so quiet that you shift. “What?” 

He keeps staring before biting an incoming smile. Before you can question him again, something brightens his expression. “You’ve changed, you know that?” 

Huh. “Me? How?” 

Your friend just grins before resting his head on the top of his cushion. “I’ve always known you were amazing. But now you look like you know that, too.” 

All thoughts fizzle out before your jaw dips. When you try to present arguments, none materialize, and Taehyung laughs at the way you physically buffer. 

“Not even denying it. I like this.” 

“Shut up,” you finally pout, embarrassed and shy when he laughs again. 

The rest of the film continues with nothing else but your commentary, and Taehyung clicks out of the queue screen before another one can start. 

“Break? Or what do you feel like?” 

You feel Yeontan’s fluff at your feet. “We can keep going.” 

“Mmk.” 

Both of you contemplate which one to pick when you feel your phone vibrate a ton. And when you see the notification, your heart leaps before crashing back down to the ground.

Yoongi [5:02pm]: Just got booked for another week

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Can’t talk now but

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Letting you know

Right.

You slowly let your hand drop with a sigh, and you can feel Taehyung’s pitied stare without moving.

“I know,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t be upset.” 

“You can definitely be upset.” 

You lift weary eyes to see that your assumption was very wrong. There’s no pity evident at all. 

Only warmth. And understanding. 

“Cus knowing him? He’s probably more frustrated than you are.” 

There’s a pinch in your chest, a sharp one that cuts your breath for a small second in time. 

Him? Being more upset than you?

You only thought about that possibility once, but you quickly dismissed it. There’s no way. 

But hearing Tae say it from a guy’s perspective—and someone that knows how Yoongi can be—gives you pause. 

It just didn’t make sense before because he sounds fine when you call, and he doesn’t really talk much about his own shit unless you ask. Which is strange considering he was fine doing so after your huge breakthrough at his place. Granted, it was mostly about good things.

Does he only hold back when it’s about stuff that stresses him out? That’s not ideal. You’ve told him before to tell you what’s bothering him, so if he’s still hesitant to let you in…

Taehyung’s honeyed voice brings you into the present, 

“What are you gonna say?” 

Blinking, you push your lips together in thought before looking at your phone again. 

If Yoongi really is more upset than you are, then you should tell him something that you would wanna hear from him. Even if you aren’t feeling so hot. 

You [5:07pm]: how’s ur back feel from carrying everyone so hard🥴 

You [5:07pm]: jk its ok<3 you’re getting recognized and it’s about time 

When you send those, something strange happens to your shoulders. 

They’re lighter. 

How is that possible? You’re still sad. 

But your mind seems to clear some junk out, instead feeling a little okay about the whole thing. 

Hopefully Yoongi receives them well. If he doesn’t, you’ll figure something else out. 

Yoongi [5:09pm]: Lmaoo I’m saying. They better run me my check and cover my hospital bills.

You laugh with teary eyes, soul feeling like it’ll live despite plans being pushed back again. 

The lingering sadness remains, but it’s dwindled for now. An afterthought to the slight happiness you feel from lifting him up instead of dragging him down.

Another message slides into the thread before you click your phone shut, so when Tae gets more food, you catch what it says. 

Yoongi [5:11pm]: Fuck I miss you

And your heart beats extra loud, mouth slightly curved and wobbly because you agree but it’s okay, okay, okay. You can both do this. 

You [5:12pm]: i miss you too.. but focus now and tell me all about it later

Of course you want to cry. Of course you want to curl up into a ball and sob. 

Yoongi [5:15pm]: Thanks doll

But just like there’s strength in being strong, there’s just as much strength in being gentle. 

Because as upset as you feel, it’s better if you don’t show it. While you aren’t completely resolute, you push forward in silence. Even if you can’t see the finish line.

The lingering feeling of anxiousness remains; the what-if’s batter your mind from the inside. But you choose to stay optimistic for him, and even you have to admit that’s admirable.

But the yearning still packs a fucking punch.

Your shoulders must be slumping to hell because you feel a warm presence settle against you, slinging an arm around and holding you close. 

The only sound you make is a quick sniffle, but you don’t move as Taehyung reads the thread on your phone. 

“You see what I see, right,” is all he whispers. 

And when you slightly shrug, he leans his head against yours. 

“You will.” 

Nodding, you feel more tears follow the paths of their predecessors, and you don’t move to wipe them away. “You’re a good person, Tae.” 

His chuckle sounds like a hearth, and you welcome Yeontan’s sniffs on your legs.

“Jimin’s lucky you’re even giving him a chance.” 

“Ah.” After squeezing your bicep, your friend reaches down to pick up his baby. “He’s lucky I gave him more than one.” 

“Oh? The luckiest then.” 

“You can do this,” he murmurs. “He’ll be ready before you know it.” 

With heavy eyes, you glance down at your still unfinished food. 

“Maybe you’re right.” 

One week turns into three. 

Then two more pass.

And Taehyung might be less correct than you thought. 

“Fuck,” you groan, clutching under your stomach. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”

“It’s okay.”

“At least you don’t have to see me this gross.”

“So?”

“You better stop.” Another eruption of pain shoots through your lower body, and you exhale into your pillow. “This is only making it worse.”

“You got a heating pad?”

A what? How does he know about— 

Oh. Right. 

…You probably shouldn’t tread waters you don’t know the depths of. 

“Yeah. But it’s too far and I’m lazy.”

He laughs in pity but doesn’t show any in his words,

“Go get it, doll.”

Because being reminded of his last relationship also makes you wonder why it ended. And wonder if that also has anything to do with his decision. 

Now hurt in multiple ways, you childishly retort, “You get it.”

“I would if I was there. But I’m not, so you’re gonna.”

“Fine.” You huff into your pillowcase, knowing you’re gonna get up because his perfect mix of support and command is annoyingly attractive. “How much longer?”

Yoongi’s too quiet for your tastes. 

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.” 

Eyes closed, you’re silent for eons. 

“Okay.”

To your confusion, you get a food delivery at your office the next day. 

Inspecting the contents of the bag, you’re cautious until you notice a takeout box of mandu under some sweets and a few all too familiar fruits.

And at the note inside, you promptly proceed to the least used bathroom to compose yourself.

Soon.

Soon and Almost are somewhat similar.

Both can give people a bit of hope. 

But they can also be the most dangerous words to play with.

Because soon is hilariously arbitrary, and you almost believed it meant something good. 

“Going to Yoongi’s.”

“K.”

“You wanna go? He’s having a few people over.”

You bite down so hard your jaw hurts. “Nah, I already have plans tonight.”

“K. Have fun!”

When the door closes, you keep your eyes on the television.

Arms falling at your side because you know you aren’t going anywhere. 

On a random Tuesday, you finally get a package you’ve been waiting on for what seems like months, and you rush to your room to check if it’s exactly what you wanted.

When it looks so beautiful, and feels smooth to the touch, you clutch the material in sorrow.

It’s perfect.

And completely useless for the time being.

Calls have been the one thing getting you by.

But over time, even those have virtually stopped.

It can’t be helped. He’s working far too late into the night for you to stay awake, and is passed out by the time you need to wake up. 

Spending time with friends helps distract from the drift, especially when one of them keeps snapping you into the present, but they’re getting busy, too. 

However. Despite all the obstacles, you keep waiting. A season has passed, yet you stay grounded. 

Hoping, wishing, choosing to believe that Yoongi’s not gonna do the same.

You accidentally spill your drink.

And you sob. 

One chilly night, you take more of Taehyung’s advice, going to Jimin’s determined to have a good time. 

But despite the manufactured confidence you had while getting dressed up and the way you were totally fine walking in and conversing with people and the admittedly perfect vibes of the party…

There’s a hole in your chest that won’t decrease in size. 

No matter what you feed it—food, drinks, the compliments of others—it refuses to budge, and this emptiness holds weight. Heavy. Melancholic.

Painful.

As you suddenly find yourself on Jimin’s windy balcony, one with a slightly different view than the one you’ll remain on forever, dull eyes lower to your solo. 

If you forget this one on the railing, too…

Will he finally show up to hand it back? 

A sharp ache spreads as the hole expands, new tears too powerful to ignore. You know your vision swims, but you don’t move to stay afloat at all. 

Three months. 

Ninety days.

Eight million seconds. 

It only took sixty for you to miss him. And it only took sixty-one for you to feel something else. 

How many more will you end up counting? How long until you get to count down instead of up? 

You keep asking yourself that. When you know for damn sure that you don’t want to know the answer. 

A breeze wraps around your limbs as you sip, the chill cutting through your dress and making you teeter in your heels. 

Because it seems like Yoongi doesn’t know, either. 

To the point where it’s starting to scare you. 

Has he been perfect otherwise? Sickeningly. 

But something in you keeps wondering why the wait keeps extending, anxious that he could be flat out stalling. 

Prematurely saddened by the possibility that he’s reconsidering entirely.

It makes sense. At least, more sense than him actually wanting something with you. Maybe this time apart has given him the clarity to realize how rose-tinted this whole situation has been. How unrealistic and laughable.

But that night in his kitchen… 

It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive.

On the verge of defeat, you hold out your phone, clicking around until your finger hovers over a certain Call button.

You can’t.

He’s working. Someone could see your name, if he has it saved as normal as you have his.

Your finger moves a bit closer.

What the fuck are you doing? Stop. Don’t screw up everything you’ve had to endure with one impulsive decision.

But your mind is fucking bad tonight and you have no clue why.

When the screen lights up with the call screen anyway, ice water rushes through because you totally didn’t mean to call and you need to end it now. 

Hold on, it’s an incoming call?

Oh fuck, it’s an incoming call.

Your throat sears as your eyes shut tight. 

How the fuck did he know? How the fuck does he always know? 

Tears burning, you try your hardest to calm the hell down before you answer, wondering why he dubs you his good luck charm when he puts guardian angels to shame.

You can’t even say hello.

“Hey.”

Fuck. Get it together. Gentle, silent, strong. 

“Hello?”

But you can’t. Not this time. Just hearing his voice for the first time in weeks has you crumbling, and that damn hole in your chest is unquenchable. 

As soon as your greeting is nothing but a weak sniffle, his change in tone seizes your soul and squeezes.

Because it plummets.

“Where are you.”

There’s quick shuffling and a door opening.

“What’s wrong.” 

Damn it there’s keys jangling and you can’t help but sob even harder knowing exactly what he’s doing. 

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. He doesn’t have to go home just because you’re what, sad? Pathetic.

You feel way too many things for this man and it fucking sucks that eight million seconds have gone by after you finally acknowledged them.

However many you get with him now, whenever that may be, you’re not taking a single one for granted. 

“Babe, tell me. Now.” 

“Jimin’s. Outside,” you choke out, sniffling and wiping both cheeks. “But nothing happened, Yoongi, I just—It just—” 

“Gimme twenty. Can you do that?” 

Lowering your head and expectations, you huff in sad amusement. 

Of course you can. Twenty minutes is nothing to you now. You can wait until he’s free. “Guess so.” 

“K. Go back inside and grab a bag.” 

Huh? Knitted brows get aimed at your cup as you question him.

“Chips, doll. Jimin has some in the pantry.” 

That doesn’t answer anything, so you remain thoroughly confused. “I’ll be okay,” you respond after a moment, simply assuming he wants you to replenish sodium. “I’m not hungry.”  

“I am.”

You freeze.

So does time.

And the next three seconds are enough.

“But you better bring the good shit or I’m not letting you in the car.”

After camping in the only unoccupied bathroom, you finally get a text that he’s somewhere around the corner. 

And your chest has never felt lighter.

Texting Tae, you let him know that you’re leaving and that you don’t apologize to Jimin for raiding his kitchen. When he responds, that’s when you slip out, your departure a mess of crinkling and racing heartbeats. 

If anyone sees you walking out with chips, you pay them no mind. Because you only care what one person thinks.

And seven minutes later, when you see him doubling over at the bazillion noisy bags in your arms, you laugh along at the absurdity of it all.

It’s almost enough to distract you from what he’s wearing. 

But to your credit, you don’t exactly see the damn rips in his jeans until he opens a back door for you to throw your haul in.

As if the black top wasn’t already disrespectful enough. His hair has even gotten longer, and you really, really like the new length.

“Fucking hustler.”

No second is wasted as you grab his shirt, positively melting at the way he doesn’t resist or shy away at all. 

In fact, he does the exact opposite, crushing you against his warm car so fast he has to brace himself. You welcome the way air leaves your lungs, because you’re giving it all to him with each pass of his lips over yours. 

Both of you know you’re outside, in public, somewhere you can be seen. But, mirroring the last time you kissed under a starry sky, neither of you act like you give a shit.

Just like that, everything that has haunted you fades. The worries, the fears, the doubts. It doesn’t matter how many days have passed, because it feels like he never left. 

And you suddenly know Yoongi is summer.

Endless. 

“Get in,” he rasps through a smirk. “Thief.” 

With a grin spread so wide your cheeks hurt, you respond right as your foreheads meet,

“Anything for you.”

With nothing but the road ahead and him beside you, everything is right with the world.

“You still have to gimme chips.” 

Maybe not quite everything.

Smile ruining your attempted pout, you reach behind your seat to pick a random bag, settling on the easiest one to grab. “You really made me get these just for you, huh? Are you eating?”

“Yes, my love. And I never said that.”

Well. That first sentence will never, ever, ever be unpacked.

As you shakily open the bag, you hope his music hides your shiver, “Such a smartass.”

“You’re the smartass.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t smart, too,” you laugh, tugging down your dress because he has his car pretty cold tonight. “I know you are.” 

When Yoongi reaches to grab some crisps, his blatant stare on your thighs makes you squirm. “Why?” 

“I just… You read.” 

To your chagrin, he laughs in surprise, forcing you to look out the window. 

Which makes you miss the way he turns down the fans. “I’m smart cus I read? How do you even know?”

“You have books under your coffee table,” you answer without doubt as he digs for more chips. “And you don’t have decor just to have it, so…”

He cocks a brow before focusing on the road, licking his fingers and giving you grief. “I moved those, by the way.”

“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”

“Proactive.”

“Huh? For what?”

He can barely contain his spreading curve. “The next time you decide to fuck up my place.” 

Your heartbeat skips as you gawk, and the current song is overshadowed by your playful shouts and tickle attempts. “Oh, bullshit!”

“You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”

“That was you!”

“No?”

“Yes? I was nice and only got your head wet!”

Yoongi glances at you then, head tilted up in cockiness and wide smirk slicing through your every thought.

And you glitch when you realize why.

Settling back into your seat with arms guarding your shyness, you sniff upward. “Ugh. Whatever… I’m right.” 

He chuckles a bit before making a turn, and the scenery starts getting familiar.

Way too familiar.

Wait, he’s taking you back to your house?

No no no. Why is he taking you there? 

You got into his car fully prepared to go back to his place, consequences and shit be damned. Everything else be damned. One night is all you want right now, and there’s no way you aren’t going without a fight.

All sense of the current mood dissipates when you grip his forearm. “Not there.” 

He flicks his gaze, rolling to a stop at an intersection that’s frighteningly close. And his expression falls when he shifts into park with a sigh. “Babe… We can’t.” 

“I don’t care.”

“I was only gonna bring you back.”

“Baby, please.”

“He’s home—”

“Do you still miss me?” 

He freezes. 

Which gives you a chance. 

Eyes glossy, you use all the seconds you have to say everything you’ve kept to yourself.

Almost everything.

“Because I get it if you don’t. I do. But I really… I really fucking miss you. And not just because of, whatever. But I consider you a friend and fun as hell to be around, and I haven’t”—you inhale, hating how it shakes—“I haven’t been this happy in weeks. And we aren’t even doing anything.” 

Yoongi is completely silent. But that’s okay because you aren’t done. 

“I know you said I wouldn’t see you. But after getting to know you? The real you? …That sucks.” You can’t look at him when his hand slips from the wheel. “I’m not gonna make you change anything, just. Telling you what’s on my mind. Like you said. I’m gonna do that a lot more now.”

He doesn’t say a word as a tear cuts one of your cheeks, and you’re brave enough to look his way again. “But it’s been three months, Yoongi,” you whisper. “Is that still not enough for you?”

Time ticks as you hold your breath, oxygen depleting and lungs nearing collapse as you watch his eyes close. 

You laid everything out on the table. Your words, your thoughts, your pain.

Whatever he decides, though? You’ll respect it. You said what you wanted to say and you won’t take any of it back. If he wants to prolong this, you won’t stop him. If he doesn’t want this anymore… the home in your heart will need repairs, but you’ll live. Somewhat. You don’t know how but somehow. People are like seasons. You’re used to it.

Yoongi’s still way too quiet. 

So, giving up and getting the point, you reach up to open your door.

“Stop.” 

You do. 

And the way he flexes his jaw shoots magma through your veins before he wrenches the car into drive. 

The universe spins as you burst into Yoongi’s apartment, running, bumping, slamming into furniture until you get thrown against his bedroom door. 

Welcoming the pain, you devour his scorching lips, fingers digging into his hair with a desperation that frightens you. All you feel is him him him, barely recalling the manic drive over and the way he all but busted into his own place. 

If there were any lingering doubts to your question, they’re left out in the chill, not allowed to witness the way he hitches your leg up before pinning you firm with his pelvis.

“Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—” 

You moan at the way his jeans feel on your skin, shivers running rampant when you more than feel his hardness poke through. “Please,” you pant, sticking to your word and ready to tell him what you want. 

“Please what.” 

Everything you want. 

Tugging his head back, your admissions rub right against his mouth, “Choke me. Use me. I don’t care, do it all.”

“Huh?”

A breath whooshes out when he yanks you forward with a growl, and you cannot seem to stop, “Don’t be nice. Spit in my mouth. Make me beg like a fucking slut, I need it.”

All the other times, you’ve seen Yoongi break in different ways. 

But this is the first time you’ve felt him legitimately snap. 

“The fuck.”

Lightning strikes the dark as he slams you backward, teeth clinking against yours when he smothers you with saliva and lust. When he shoves his door open, you stumble back, more unholy plans in mind than he imagines. 

You don’t know what’s coming over you. 

Even as you force him sideways to shove into his rolling chair, the piercing look he gives is no match for your inner storm.

“Babe—”

Impatient, you drop to your knees, the pain nothing to you as your fingers twitch over his zipper. As you tug his pants down with force, Yoongi’s outright shock is another first for you.

“Are you su—”

“Let me do this,” you plead upward, and you feel highly motivated when he doesn’t do a thing except let out a low, gritty hum. 

Grabbing at his cock, you already moan at the way it feels in your palm…

Softly, oh so softly, a large hand closes over yours, and you hear your name in a whisper, haze temporarily receding. 

What’s wrong? Does he want you to stop?

When you ask without a word, Yoongi leans forward to capture your lips, and this gives you a warm sort of deja vu. “You drank tonight, yeah?” 

“Yeah…?” Oh. He totally tasted alcohol. And your frantic behavior. He thinks—Oh. 

Understanding what he’s getting at, you reach up and caress his cheek. “I’m not drunk, baby,” you chuckle. “I just missed you.” 

Again, he looks at your eyes, one after the other. When you say it once more for good measure, he kisses you in acceptance. 

“So are you gonna fuck my throat or nah?”

He falls back with a groan, raking his hair and legs spread wide. “What are you doing to me.”

“This.”

Without prompt, you dive head first, leaning forward to take his tip and swirl your tongue all around. Commanding his every drop of attention, you don’t let up as you tug your dress downward, breasts spilling out before you stand just enough to claim his lips. 

He takes full advantage with a devilish curve, smacking your tits before ordering, “Get the fuck back down there.”

And you obey with a proud smirk of your own, hoping he’s liking this new side of you, too. 

Back between his knees, you worship his length in earnest, swallowing him again and again and lathering him in saliva so your hands slide easily on him, too. When you feel his veins rub both your palms, you hear a symphony of lustful baritones.

“Holy fuck.” 

You quickly discover you can’t get enough. Lapping, sucking, sheathing your head on his cock so far your brain smushes upward. He feels so familiar at this point that you realize you missed him even here, knocking the back of your throat and burdening your tongue with heavenly, sinful weight. 

And you feel more familiar palms grip your head, eyes opening to see him staring down with reverence and something you can’t quite decipher. 

“So fucking filthy...” 

You chuckle, the rumble making him hiss and throw his head back against his chair. 

“Don’t do that.” 

You gladly disobey, laughing even harder around him before releasing with an expert pop to suck on his balls. 

“Fuck!”

There’s a slight squeak before he grips you again, and you can tell he’s slipping by the way his moans devolve into breathy, short hisses. 

Breaking, he pushes your head into his sack before slapping your cheek with his cock, and you hum as it slips back inside your grin. 

Yes yes yes. You want him to enjoy this just as much as you do, steal this time together and run with it, need him to hang on the brink of mania where you currently reside. Because even though he’s saying things, you can’t hear them over the wholly impure sounds slopping out of your esophagus. 

“Fucking hell, baby,” he praises, thrusting up slow as you keep him slathered. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”

You finally come up for air, gulping in air and letting him see you in all your panting glory. When you lock eyes, his lidded gaze is loaded, aimed only at your taunting stare.

Drool coats you in globs. Your chest, the floor, hanging from your lips as you stroke him with wet fingers before swallowing another time. 

And you think you can do this until your jaw falls off.

But suddenly you’re hoisted upward before being thrown onto soft sheets, legs roughly shifted to one side as you paint the dark with your hoarse giggles. Before you know it, his lips attack your chest, and he’s setting butterflies wild as you arch in record time. 

“Take this off,” he growls, tugging at your dress with sweaty fingers that you want lodged in multiple places. “No more hiding.” 

You mewl, undressing as fast as you’re able, tearing the garment off and flinging it away. But your heels are still on, and whether he’s just as deft at removing those, too, you’ll need to hit pause. “What about my—”

“Don’t,” he grits with brows pinched, and his next vow is absolute, pure sin,

“I’m fucking you with them on.” 

“Oh, fuck.” Your whine is high as you throw your head back, the next groan guttural as you feel a hand smack the side of your ass with force. Your jaw comes loose, soreness shooting through its curve as your legs are erotically parted to give Yoongi a view of everything. 

You know your panties are soaked. 

You know he’s gonna wreck your shit. 

But seeing him eye the whole mess on display before lifting his hungry gaze your way? You’re damn sure you aren’t gonna survive the night. 

Perfect. 

“Please fuck me, baby,” you let out with a tone so soft that you think he doesn’t hear you. 

He does. “I’m gonna do a lot more than that, doll.” 

You tilt your head, confused and wondering what he means. 

But he ignores your wordless question, sliding fingers along your ankle before holding your leg to kiss that same spot. 

The action alone is enough to rewire your brain, but it’s the way he looks so confident, so unbothered, so determined that has your insides churning with want. 

He plants lips there again before shifting his hand down to your calf, yanking your leg back wide and pulling a tiny help out of your throat. When he shifts to grip your other leg, he growls under his breath, 

“So fucking perfect.” 

“No, you,” you counter with a pout, and flinch what the fuck his slap to your cunt felt good. “Hey!”

“None of that,” Yoongi orders with finality. “Not after all that shit you said at the door.” 

“I dunno what happened there,” you admit, inevitably shy under his commanding presence. Your cheeks sizzle before your teeth grip your lip, temporarily brought back to normalcy at his confession,

“Almost made me come.” 

“Be for real.” 

“Damn serious.” 

The cheshire cat would be jealous of your grin. “Then I should keep going?”

“Uh huh.” He cups your whole cunt, and the possessive nature it exudes pushes a whine against your teeth. “Tell me.” 

“Fuck me like you missed me.” 

A groan rips through his room before he swoops down, lips bruising yours on the landing before he shoves his mouth against your neck. 

Tingles erupt over your skin as he laps at your throat, so hard that your entire upper body slides across his rumpled sheets. When you feel his cock rub across your thong and his jeans grazing your skin, his name flies out of your chest. Moans, sighs, everything in between. 

“Careful,” he warns low before another toe-curling lick. “You won’t leave if I did that.”

“I don’t want to,” you grit in return, reaching to sink claws in his hair and tug. “Wanna stay.”

Strong arms wrap around you before you feel him spread liquid fire up your shoulder, and he reaches to nip at your ear before deft fingers flick a nipple. 

His voice rasps against your cheek, but the words sound reluctant to even leave. “You shouldn’t even be here, babe.”

Fuck. You know that’s true but your heart is rattling like a monster starved. 

“Just tonight,” you plead your case. Because you don’t want to be shooed away before it’s over, but if this is all you get, he needs to do something now. “But if you really don’t want this then please kick me out before—”

“Fuck that.” After greedily tweaking your other nipple, he rolls his body against yours, making you fiend for the weighty cock wedged against you with only thin material between. “Fuck all of that.” 

He rushes upward before nudging your leg over with a strong hand, and you fixate on the way his chains hit his chest. Just like always. “Don’t move.”

You don’t even get to breathe twice as he drops from sight, and you yelp to his roof as soon as you feel teeth nick your inner thigh. At your flinch, you feel him grip your leg with force, ordering you even harsher,

“I said. Don’t move.” 

“But—Yoongi!” 

You don’t notice him yank your underwear sideways before flattening a hot tongue against your folds, sucking so good you have to back away from the stimulation. Immediately, both your legs are seized before he tugs you back to him. 

“Uh uh.”

And he keeps your legs apart before diving deep, and you’ve never devolved into a quivering mess so fast in your goddamn life. The way he licks, sucks, kisses just where you need—everything sends thunder through your chest, lightning across your cunt, rain into your eyes. 

You can do nothing but squirm, squeals and whines and high moans leaving arrowheads in his ceiling. 

Holy fuck, did you sound this loud when you worshipped him? Even now, spread wide and willing to give Yoongi the world, you find a moment to be embarrassed in the best way.

If the neighbors hear, you don’t care. They’re gonna know how well he’s feasting on you, how gorgeously corrupt you feel. How you’re his and his alone and ready to scream it to the rooftops. 

When you feel a finger alongside his tongue, the sound you make borders on inhuman. You think it’s his name, but even you aren’t quite sure. 

All you know is that you’re close. Your thighs are burning and your fingers swipe at his locks but he refuses to let you go. “Yoongi—I’m—”

Suddenly.

He stops. 

And every nice thing you have to say to him falls to the wayside. “No no no! Please, fuck—”

The light tap to your cunt makes you quiver, and your chest heaves when he chuckles without pity,

“What’d you say?” 

“Plea—Baby!” 

“Huh?” 

Every fucking time you speak, he taps again. And every time he gets you close, he edges with aggravating control. Again. And again. 

And again.

You exist between reality and fiction, somehow seeing yourself unwinding, winding, spiraling out of control. Words start to form abstract blobs of syllables, your mouth hanging open as he peppers lazy, unbothered kisses on your thighs.  

In your foggy vision, you think you see him stand. And you’re pretty sure he grabs his cock before he’s rubbing his thick head between your folds oh fuck—

“This is what you wanted, huh.” 

Your breath hitches with a whine as you nod.

“You gonna be a good little slut?” 

Oh, you’re gonna be whatever he fucking wants. So you nod again, not without a smile lopsided. 

“Then fucking beg.” 

He smacks his cockhead against your cunt, springing your back in an arch and tugging strings of incoherent speech from your depths. You make hard lines of his sheets as you grip them in both palms, and you don’t wanna know what you’re saying because the way Yoongi’s staring with a smirk has you blacking the fuck out. 

To the point where you’re nothing but a quivering, shaking, restless mess on his bed.

You somehow closed your eyes at some point, because they fly open when you feel his lips on yours, and you tug at his stupidly attractive shirt that he didn’t bother to pull off. “Please,” you whisper, brain floating oceans away. “I need you.”

“Need you, too.” 

He breaks away to grab a condom, and this is when you realize how intertwined you feel because even this distance is too much to bear. You’re spilling nonsense and breathing harsh and you attribute that to the sole fact that you crave release. It’s aching. Consuming. 

Yoongi’s already naked and prepped by the time he positions himself between your sore legs, and you give in without resistance again when he descends on your lips. 

When you whisper his name, he kisses it away, and you briefly wonder why his hands shake running up your sides. 

Finally, finally, finally, he gives exactly what you want, the initial connection stretching you sore because it’s been way too long. And you feel emotional when you don’t even doubt it’s been too long for him, too. 

Because his eyes speak volumes. 

They hold onto your every move, watch your every reaction, hesitate when you blow out air accommodating his size. 

But you lock yours with him when you relax, weakly grasping his jewelry before sliding fingers up his shoulders. When you nod, he pushes in further, both of you sighing in tandem. 

And as soon as you whisper you’re ready, all niceties fly out the window. 

You’re thrusted up his bed with a determined stroke before he sets a pace, and your head kicks back as soon as a hand captures your neck. 

“Look at me,” he commands, and he gives you a light pat on the cheek before squeezing your jaw. “Open up.”

When you do, spit flings from his mouth into yours, and you already sprint to the edge feeling the weight of your heels and the strength of his body. “Fuck!”

You get pat again—rougher this time—before Yoongi goes to choke you a second time. “What do you say?”

“Me?” you pant, tearing the first thought from your throat when he grits it again. “Thank—” 

Fuck, his dick is hitting every spot you need it to. It takes you a second to repeat your garbled guess in full, knowing it’s something you would’ve said anyway. “Thank you.”

“Now swallow.” 

As soon as he shoves inside, your obedience is your undoing. The skies open to welcome you as your body locks, thighs squeezing his taut sides as he moans through your release. Waves tug you unbelievably far, and you almost lose yourself in the swell before you crash onto shore again.

“Such a whore for me,” Yoongi praises, kicking you back to the very first night and making you melt. When you peel eyelids open, you notice his smile matches yours, and the shared, cherished memory smoothens your gravelly laugh.

“Love when you do that,” you admit, shaking your head at your own strange preferences. “Don’t know why.” 

“Me neither.” He spears you again with a cheeky lip bite. “But it’s so fucking hot.” 

Your grin can’t be contained, and this is where you wanna be. Right here. Nowhere else in the fucking universe. 

“I’m ready,” you pant, and he gives you a brief look of affection—which you shatter with force. “Fuck the shit out of me.” 

Yoongi twitches madly inside your core as he expels a pained, breathy laugh. “Goddamn, this isn’t good for me.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He doesn’t waste a second gathering your calves while you ponder what he says. “Hold these pretty legs up for me. There you go.”

When you find the easiest way to do so, you marvel at how shaky and slippery your thighs are, wondering if the rest of you is faring any better. 

It’s not. 

But you can’t dwell on that now because Yoongi is holding on like he’ll lose you, resuming a delicious pace and smacking your hips into his with the most indecent sounds. 

Your whines soon join in, and his hums of satisfaction fuel your ever going flame. Heaven and earth could move and you would remain here, suspended in time as he fills you perfectly with every fast stroke. 

“Feel so good—”

When he leaves your cunt, you mewl before he grunts, “Fucking—Get up.” 

What is he— 

You’re hoisted upward so quickly that you see starlight, not even registering the clanks and shifts of items before he’s spinning to pin you down on a solid surface. Your heels find purchase on the floor but your knees prove unbelievably weak.

What’s—

Oh fuck, are you on his desk?

Your hands retreat until they find an edge to grab, and you moan outright when you feel his fingers slide up your cunt, shoving your thong farther over one side of your ass. 

“Yoongi—”

You feel full in an instant, jaw going slack as he shoves you backwards on his cock, praises washing down your back as he pushes down any arches you instinctively make. 

“Uh uh. Stay like that.” 

“I wanna—” Your words are cut off with a whine as you feel a sting on your ass. “Fuck!”

“There you go.” 

The rock of the desk is so strong that every bang against the wall booms loud, equipment sliding back and forth and making you briefly worry if anything will fall.

But this is the most turned on you’ve ever, ever felt, and you have no fucking clue why.

You wonder if he feels the same right before his dark laugh consumes you.

“Goddamn.” 

Your hands are grabbed before he shoves you forward, letting more of your body lie on the surface so that he can pin sweaty arms at your back. 

Oh, fuck!

Your moans glide across wood as he doesn’t let up, and you don’t even want to know how much drool will exist on his desk when you’re done. Maybe you’ll never be done. Maybe he really will keep you here forever, and you’ll soak his whole—

“Come here.” 

He gathers your wrists in one large palm before reaching to grip your chest, hauling you up and securing you against his body by the throat. 

And you think your soul just left your earthly vessel. 

Pressing you further into him, he grits in your ear, 

“Never fucking kicking you out.” His tight stroke launches you across space. “Don’t even think about saying that again.” 

When did you— You said— Why don’t you remember—

You go limp when he shoves into you again, but your heels wobble and you focus damn hard on staying upright. 

But Yoongi doesn’t give a shit. “You hear me?” When you let out a breathy confirmation, he still isn’t satisfied. A hand pats your cheek before he asks again, “Say it louder.” 

“Yes!”

“Good.”

He drops all talk, pistoning in from behind while you take it and take it and love it. Mercifully, he lets your sore arms go to pin you down again, gritted words and curses dancing with your high-pitched sighs. 

Fuck, his strokes are so deep that you see into the next universe, and you don’t think your mouth has been shut ever since you made contact with his desk. 

Maybe he was more frustrated than you were. He’s using you as stress relief like you intended, and his roughness is a fantastic surprise. 

It’s just what you need. Which kicks you into a whole other level of want and the beast inside you transforms yet again. 

When Yoongi yanks himself out, you’re quick to spin and shove him backward. As he flops onto the bed, he laughs like sin incarnate when you pounce, his hot hands grabbing at your hips and encouraging your behavior in the nastiest way.

“Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”

“You already fucking know.”

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“Don’t fall in love.” 

When you sink onto him, Yoongi’s already groaning. But when you start to swivel at a pace that will render you sore, he begins to lose it. 

“Fuck.”

His head kicks back, eyes shut and brows pinched to hell. After holding your waist, he has to slap his sheets to squeeze even tighter, chest marred with red under pretty silver. 

You make sure every rotation is full, slowly rocking with each circle you make and gritting teeth at how fucking big he is.

Soon, his hisses devolve into groans, and he snaps his head back up to slap your breasts—one after the other before gripping your hips so hard you welcome the pain. 

“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he confesses with husk, and you whine in response as you lower yourself to kiss him deep. 

“It missed you, too.”

Coming back up, you dig one of your hands in his mattress while bracing on him with the other, and you close your eyes in bliss as you arch your tits toward his hungry lips. 

Just like you want, he chuckles in satisfaction as he suckles, lolling his tongue all around before giving your nipple  a hard suck. His noises remind you of lollipops, and you briefly think of a few fun things you could do with those for next time.

But a hand juts up to seize the back of your neck, forcing you to arch in place as he starts thrusting hard. 

“Yoongi!”

“Uh huh.”  

Before you can talk again, his other hand joins in to choke you just enough, and you find yourself teetering on a precipice. Holy fuck, holy fuck, you’re close again.

“You gonna come?”

A frantic nod.

“Then come.” 

As soon as you hear the words, you do exactly that, windpipe released just as you pulse around him incredibly hard. The waves prove tsunamis, and you dangle from their crests before plummeting and tumbling below. Your moan extends as he thrusts erratically through your quivers, encouraging you and digging rough fingers into your hips. 

“Again.” 

Somehow, that’s enough to make your body obey, and you cry out as you flutter around his trembling cock, hearing him talk you through it but not quite understanding what he’s saying. 

Maybe you also choose not to listen because of what you think you hear, and you don’t want to be haunted if you realize later on what you thought you heard wasn’t true. 

The world rotates up as Yoongi sits up, and you sling arms around him as he leans back on his hands. Your breath hitches at the new angle he’s filling you at, and your eyes swirl when he coolly, confidently commands, 

“Again.” 

You can’t you can’t you can’t but you can. Holy fuck apparently you can, and this time, it consumes you so hard your eyes roll back enough to see the past. Past you, insecure and meek and scared to say what they want. 

Oh, if they could witness you now. 

You shudder impossibly hard around him, coated with his deep chuckles and dashing, ego-ridden grin. It’s all you see before you slump against his chest, heartbeat pounding against yours when you can’t feel any bone in your body.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Two hearts.

One night is enough.

“So fucking perfect.”

“For you,” you wisp out, lost in galaxies. “Only you.” 

He can only kiss the side of your head in response, gently lowering you both onto spent cotton and helping you straighten out your muscle-locked legs. When he asks if you’re okay, you can only nod, and he plants another kiss on your temple before sliding off his protection. 

Both of you take time to calm down, breaths heavy from what felt like a marathon. But a much better marathon than the one you’ve had to endure over the last three months. 

When you lie against his chest, you silently thank him for giving you tonight. It’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever done with him, but you won’t worry about it. Not right now. Not when you feel more at home here than your own house. 

Your brother is right. Something is definitely missing over there. 

It’s when your pants have relaxed into soft breaths that you nudge your head against Yoongi’s chest, eyes shut in peace as he lazily draws circles on your back. 

And the first words he says in minutes inject sparkles into your eyes,

“I need to re-up this damn cat’s food.” 

Oh, shit!

Your outright squeal is surely coming out too loud but you don’t care. Don’t care don’t care don’t care not when Yoongi just gave away so many different things. 

This man leaned right into the whole thing.

“I knew it!” You proclaim in triumph, smacking his thigh while hearing a very elongated ‘shut up’ at your side. “Tried to hide it from me all these months? Somebody’s getting soft.”

“First off.”

“Uh huh.”

God. If only you both could go on one of those late night shopping trips he talked about before. Maybe you could’ve gotten plenty of things. Like some little cat toys, or extra storage cabinets for your clothes. 

Yeah. Stuff like that. 

“I’m her favorite.” 

Your scoff is immediate as you hoist yourself up, leaning on your hand and regretting the burn in your arm. “Only because you gatekeeped her.”

A soft disagreement precedes a more prominent, “Won’t even matter.”

Yoongi looks so at peace when you stare, and your voice calms to match as it floats down, “You took care of her.”

When he only smiles, you decide that this is how you want him to be all the time. Content and outright glowing, fireflies dancing in his eyes. 

Does he feel at home, too? 

“She was gonna be your surprise,” he finally murmurs. “For getting the gig.”

Heart and tear ducts full, you lower yourself to tenderly press lips to his. And, since it seems to work for you, his forehead is what you decide to kiss next. 

Then you pull away.

Wondering why he’s not smiling anymore. 

“Come here.”

You blink, lying back down to snuggle against his side. When his arm wraps around your shoulder, it's only then that you’re aware you still have shoes on. A clean person, you hope Yoongi doesn’t mind them touching his sheets. 

But maybe it’s a tad too late for that concern. 

“How are you gonna get home?”

Oh, right. You use his chest to scratch an itch in your nose before responding, “I’ll call a ride in the morning. He’ll be out cold until noon at the earliest.” 

“K.” 

“Did I keep you from anything?”

A puff flies out his nostrils. “Kinda late for that, huh.” 

“True,” you sigh, berating yourself for thinking a lot of things too late. “Sorry.”  

“But no, we were finishing up when I called.” 

“Okay… Did I scare you?” You lift your eyes then, because you need to know for sure. 

When he levels a look, you curse at his quiet confirmation. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“S’ok.” 

“I just… It hurt tonight.” Emotion washes over your face before you bury it. “Really hurt.” 

After a light squeeze, Yoongi gently rolls you over, resting his head exactly where your hand clutches your chest. When you move your fingers, he kisses that same spot, and your heart stops. “How about now.” 

Feeling the deepest pain you’ve ever felt in your life, you cradle his head with a whisper, 

“Maybe try that one more time.”

And he does, not looking at your tears as he sits up to peer down the bed. 

When he scoots down to the edge, your breath catches as he holds a heel in sure hands, his back beautiful even with the scars. While he works through leather straps, he starts to speak, 

“I always do, babe.” 

Blinking, you ask what he means as he slips your shoe off with ease.

“Miss you.”

As he tenderly holds the other, you gulp in oxygen to quell the sear around your eyes. “I just… Wasn’t sure,” you admit, voice wavering. 

His hair falls forward when he sighs, and his palms feel way too relaxing to just be taking your heels off. Even now, it feels like he’s revering you. And you truly don’t know how you deserve any of this. 

“That’s my fault.” 

Throat small, you’re swift to reassure him. “No, no. I need to just suck it up. I’m sorry.” 

After freeing your other foot, he rubs it without prompt, and you don’t know how to deal with someone giving you this level of care. 

“Just a little bit longer, doll,” he says, and you admire his profile when he turns. “I’m sorry.” 

“You gave me tonight.” 

When he swallows, you reassure him with all the support you can give, 

“A little longer is nothing.” 

A moment passes by before he finally moves, and you catch a hint of a smile right before he faces his disheveled to hell desk again. 

Deciding that conversation has concluded, you crack the atmosphere with a joke, “You liked whatever happened over there, huh.”

Immediately, Yoongi’s shoulders bob with a laugh before he admits, “Fucking you on my desk? I’ve wanted to do that for months.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He leans forward. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve wanted us to do for months.” 

Us.

Thoroughly giddy and full of life again, you egg him on. “Oh? Like what?”

Finally, he looks over his shoulder with a grin, and you scoff in frustration at his answer,

“What’s the fun in telling you?”

“Ass!”

While you’re getting ready to shower, he leans against the doorframe of his bathroom.

“We have a game next week.” 

As you fetch a towel from his cabinet, you clarify, “The championship, right?”

“Mmhmm.” 

“I’ll be there,” you confirm, walking away to slip the thick cloth over its rack. “I can’t believe it’s still going.” 

“Same. But there’ve been a lot of delays, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Your hand feels out the water, satisfied with its temperature. “I meant your win streak but whatever.” 

And you squeal when he rushes forward, shutting the glass with a wobbly thud before he can get to you. When you stick out a childish tongue, you laugh under the spray, curve slowly, curiously, softly fading when he simply keeps staring.

What’s he doing?

You don’t move as he slowly slides the entrance open again, and you don’t dare breathe as he leans inside to kiss your wet lips.

When you tenderly take one of his wrists and pull, he obliges without hesitation, and you take another shower with the man that sets fireworks off in your soul. 

An hour later, filled with food and laughter—and slight disappointment when you couldn’t find your surprise near his door—you occupy his bed with full bellies and fresh minds. 

As he lies on your chest, you think this is better, because it gives you time to think about things. And tell him about others. 

You finally tell him what all happened with Jungkook, to which he listens without a single word. When you can’t seem to shut up about your job, he doesn’t stop you, and you adore the way he cuddles you under faint moonlight cutting through his window. 

“Oh, wait,” you stop, feeling like you’ve talked his head off by now. “What did you call about?”

“Huh? Tonight?” 

“Yeah.” 

“We finally have a confirmed date. For that album,” Yoongi rumbles against the shirt he let you borrow. “I was gonna invite you to the release party.”

Whoa, what the fuck? “Me?”

He chuckles soft, and you wonder if he can guess how shocked you look. “Yes, you. All of y’all.” 

At least it’s everyone. But at the same time, you still hesitate. “That won’t be weird?” 

“Nah. You can bring anyone you want, so. I was assuming you’d bring your friends.” 

“Ah, I see.”

You didn’t mean to sound disappointed. You truly aren’t. But Yoongi pushes up to comfort you anyway, planting kisses along your skin, your neck, and finally your lips. 

“It won’t be the only one,” he promises. “We got time.”

“Duh,” you giggle. “And I’ll be at all of them. Whether you like it or not.” 

Yoongi regards you before laying his weight back on your chest. And you find it strange how familiar his body already feels. How you’re already attuned to every way his legs fit against your own, or how you would know it’s him solely based on how his chest molds with yours. 

You start mindlessly caressing his hair, fingers weaving through a dark sea of strands before smoothing over its surface. 

And you start to hum.

It’s not really any song, just notes you start stringing together at random. You build up before you dip back down, staying in a comfortable middle range and dancing between similar tones. 

You stop from time to time, trying to figure out what would sound best next and changing up the cadence. Always coming back to a central theme because it’s what you deem best.

And you’re so comfortable that you completely forgot he’s lying right under your chin.

“Shit, was I too loud?”

He just shakes his head, arm pressing a bit more into your side. 

“Not at all.” 

So you keep going, humming more familiar tunes and phrases, softly giggling when Yoongi huffs at the way you drum on his head. 

And that’s how the night goes on, with you at peace and him in your embrace.

Never noticing how the shirt you're wearing collects rain.

When dawn breaks, you part with one final, heavenly kiss. 

Yoongi watches until you get in the ride he politely called for you, and you spend the whole drive with eyes filled with light. 

You can do this. Just a little longer, he said.

For him, you can do anything. 

But when you get home, your brother occupies the foyer as soon as you open the front door.

And you feel the world shatter and crash at your feet.

“I think,” he states, “There’s something you wanna tell me.”  

—

—

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tbc. :) 

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a ha ha... what do we think/like! | wanna support with a 🍊?

A/N: i’m so swirly-eyed that i don’t even know what to say here other than i’m sorry for throwing that ending at y’all! busted pt. 2 is gonna be its own huge part at this point so i had no choice but to end it here (originally it was gonna end before they went back to yoongi’s but i love y’all too much dlkfjdsklf)  A/N 2: gonna say this again: enormous thank you to everyone supporting this whole journey, whether that’s liking/commenting/reblogging/messaging, recommending this series to people, telling me how it makes you feel or what it means to you, or even wanting a physical copy of the series like😭 that’s surreal to me and makes me wanna keep working harder.  A/N 3: as far as feedback, i would absolutely love any type y’all wanna give. this chapter took all of my brainpower and the next one is gonna take just as much haahahahdksfks so any encouragement would be wonderful!  ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist ⇥ masterlist 

[inchidentally]

replying to asks abt the Drama today so pls skip if you're fully over that salfgjlagf (and bl 'tricky asks' to not see me respond to stuff like this - but I always put under a cut as well!)

oh my god this is a whole epic jfc and I'm p sure I repeat myself a lot I'm sorry <3

and for anyone who sees the walls of text below and is like pls tl;dr it for me bitch: today is one of multiple examples proving that Lando and Oscar are exceptionally able to maintain perspective and genuine consideration of each other given their situations and their ages. and that while they, like all teammates, will have ups and downs that they are FAR from the kinds of teammates to ever let the bad times linger or fester. I'm not going to be participating in flipping out or overreacting to it when it does inevitably happen but that it hasn’t even happened today! so I just don’t see a point in projecting the rare examples of melodramatic teammates onto Lando and Oscar as teammates. esp today when they both could quite easily have sniped at each other a bit even indirectly and yet they didn't! Lando at the team? absolutely! but like for anyone feeling sad or upset in terms of the landoscar of it all, I'm genuinely baffled ?? bc I'm personally out here impressed yet again at how well they've handled this ?? so yea <3

just to say, if you're someone who truly loves the Epic Highs and Lows of Formula One then good on you and continue having fun! some people live for The Drama and obv I'm not addressing or criticizing that at all!

but since I'm out here being regularly openly insane about landoscar and I've gotten these asks and seen people feeling upset, I def feel like it’s fair that I bring reality and reason into my posts as well being stupid akfgsalfg

so I've grown up with F1 passively in the background of my life (as in on the main TV in my house) and I'm still mostly a fake, but I've picked up some things over the years and one of them is that the average set of teammates aren't the melodrama ones. most teammates who enjoy genuine competitive closeness on the track just tick each other off sometimes but mostly like each other and hang out a bit - overall the average dynamic ranges from mildly indifferent to good buddies. 

(brocedes and sebmark are outliers for a reason. and they did NOT just turn bad overnight. that toxic soup was brewing from the very start. but more about that later in this gigantic ass essay)

so once I realized last season that Lando and Oscar genuinely like each other and weren't gonna pop off over everything, my assumption has always been that they would have their tiffs and snipe to the press or avoid each other for periods but then get over it and go back to liking each other again - rinse and repeat! from a driver’s pov it's way more enjoyable and preferable to NOT be fighting w the guy you spend so much time and share a car with.

but !! that didn't happen and hasn't happened! with Lando and Oscar it very quickly went beyond just passively okay w each other - they've made active choices to show respect and fairness and consideration that for me has truly been exceptional.

and while I'm insane about them for narratives and rpf, the not insane part is how these two fit together so beautifully? like, Lando knows and says how his feelings and his brain can just take over sometimes and he struggles - that includes his feelings of anger and resentment. Oscar's primary trait is being calm and being able to be circumspect even under stress. Lando's actually said that he's learned from Oscar remaining calm. then you've got Oscar's 'hearteyes' and genuine admiration of Lando that shows up not in loud PR ways* but in quiet respect and standing back for Lando to shine and giving Lando his full dues. over time, Lando's come to 'hearteyes' right back bc of the respect and ngl genuine affection he feels for Oscar's fairness and respectfulness and his persistence in showing up and being happy for Lando no matter what. like, none of that requires embellishment and it's said by pretty much everyone including each other!

so to me, that means that when they do inevitably have 'moments' at the front of the pack together in future they'll ofc be grumpy w each other or resentful but it'll all be okay once they've cooled off. 

but !! that was not today !! my entire day of reblogging is just a nonstop bam bam bam of them looking out for each other in the face of this drama and taking care to not feed the media who have been dying for them to hate each other since day one. Oscar apologizing and if anything being less celebratory today than he was in Monaco for his second place. keeping the post race short and simple** and not going over the top celebrating after the team photo. Lando repeating in his post races that Oscar deserved the win and that he didn't want the issues with team orders to overshadow that and literally reaching out to Oscar to say 'we're okay' right out of the car <3

so yea in the years they are teammates they will definitely have their off days and probably that'll happen at certain points this season - but genuinely ! it should not be taken for granted how mature and considerate and kind they've remained w each other since basically Austria last year ! that counts for a hell of a lot in terms of not assuming they're "over" every time team strategy screws one or both of them, or that they will become different people and suddenly cultivate melodrama.

and sure, anything can happen etc etc but I don’t see a point in just aimlessly waiting for the absolute worst to happen unless you actively want them to hate each other which seems like a huge waste of time but to each their own ldgfjlagfljsfg

guys… things like "why didn't he spray Oscar with champagne first" and "they had a moment where they weren't smiling" or "the cool down room was awkward" "Oscar didn't thank Lando like Lando did in Miami" “Oscar hasn’t liked such and such on instagram” is not only pointless self-torturing it's also all pretty easy to debunk by someone like me who follows a lot of teams and drivers and sees a ton of different sides to these things every weekend:

- as for the comment likes, Oscar hasn't liked everyone's comments that he should have - I did a quick pass and the standouts are he still hasn’t liked the comment from opeightyone (his own brand company!), still hadn't liked the Australian GP comment last time I checked, or Kym Ilman, literally a fellow Aussie who he talks to at every single race and who left a heartfelt comment. we need to give this poor guy a break and not ignore how much he was laughing and smiling with Lando just bc he’s struggling with the alerts on his phone !! (and as always, we have absolutely no way of knowing anymore when we can say how much the driver is doing vs what their sm team is doing. I saw in a story the other day that Lily had stopped doing her usual emoji replies to his posts for a while (she started up again after quali this weekend) and clearly there's been no issues between them so it's safe to say Oscar's sm officially isn't the true measure of his current relationships!)

- Lando and Oscar were already joking and smiling together before the champagne! so why would Lando then get mad and show it by not spraying him first? (EDIT: as an anon pointed out, when Lando runs over to the McLaren team member Oscar is laughing and follows him! so the plan was to drown the poor guy all along lol.) Lando and Lewis have a special bond from long before Oscar and Lewis and McLaren have had a bond even longer. if I hadn't seen ppl be upset about this I wouldn't have thought twice about Lando running to Lewis after having spend the first half the podium chatting to Oscar!

and just a quick side note, Lando had NO problem showing how mad he was before Oscar came into the cool down room when he threw down that hat and got huffy with Lewis when all Lewis did was say how fast the McLaren is! but every time Lando interacted with Oscar, he made sure to keep it together and be happy for him bc as he strenuously made clear in his interviews, his upset was at the team's directions but he didn't want it overshadowing Oscar's well-earned win. so if anything, view Lando rushing over to Lewis as an apology for somewhat biting his head off over a compliment lfgjflgsalf

- the drivers are exhausted and their default mode after a race is to be not smiling, like not even Lando smiled the entire time following his win. add to today that Lando hasn't been happy with second place for a long time and Oscar isn't an effusive guy and it's weird to think they'd be laughing and smiling nonstop.

- cool down rooms are literally always awkward ?? the drivers hate that there are cameras and conversation is always stilted. it’s where they go to … y'know, cool down, not get hyped lol

- Lando thanked Oscar in Miami bc Oscar showed what the car could do w his overtakes, guys. it was VERY sweet but it wasn't like 'thank you for my life Oscar' or even 'thank you for my win'. but even apart from that, Lando has fully taken on the rightful 'I'm the more established F1 star and the face of McLaren and it's my job to let the new guy know when he's done well' even back before he and Oscar had much of a relationship. but… and I’m about to spin off on this topic now… Lando does very well with this sometimes yes, but remember that the majority of his own feeds are also solely focused on himself like Oscar's and like most driver's are! and that he and Oscar both forget to like McLaren's content most of the time!

but also like……….

please let us please remember Oscar has the same rights to putting himself first as every other driver !! he may be remarkably mature and respectful to Lando and McLaren and exceptionally able to get over being set aside or even screwed over, but he's not a worm!

as far as questioning if him not 'thanking' Lando somehow negates his literally non-stop hearteyes-so-blatant-that-casuals-comment-on-it that he has for Lando every single week... guys.. Lily. like I'm positive he'll make a special post or story with her soon but he only said a quick "hi" to Lily after Ted brought her up and then did a generic thank you to everyone LIKE ?? the guy isn't even effusive about his beloved long time gf !! his love language is not in words* !!

but I also feel the need to bring smth up here bc there is a definite lean happening in some quarters of fandom into fully expecting and taking for granted Oscar's patience and maturity and ability to be happy for Lando no matter how much he's hurting or upset for himself. and I've got to raise everyone who says that the fact that Oscar is allowed to be like every other driver including Lando! he is allowed to feel frustrated or not be a perfect saint! in the earlier part of last year, Lando openly said he was uncomfortable being 'the older guy' and he frequently left Oscar in the lurch not knowing where to go or ignored Oscar to talk to or about his previous teammates. when Oscar hadn't been told the correct time for that major meeting shown in DTS, Lando was not hiding feeling fairly smug after Oscar said "is Lando already here?" and in Australia this year, Lando fully forgot to have anything to do with Oscar in what was literally Oscar’s home town and home country race to the point ! that in the podium drivers conference when a reporter brought up if Oscar was bummed about missing out on a podium, Lando stiffly said that he guessed anyone would want a podium on their home race - but he was far from sympathetic!

now before anyone thinks this is me having a go at Lando, I am not. I'm literally reminding the people who are reading too much into Oscar not saying thank you specifically to Lando in what was a much shorter and less exuberant overall race win celebration and post race video than Lando’s win was: it is not a big deal !! it is not some huge thing that Lando would even notice and that Lando has frequently chosen to not include or show gratitude to Oscar at times when we expected him to and !! it's fine because it really is fine !! 

but when Oscar is seen to not cover every single base of gratitude and inclusion for Lando, for some fans it's A Problem or A Worry. and for some people, a broader thank you to the team and not specifically to Lando** is reason why Lando should despise Oscar forever and even consider leaving McLaren like the comments sections are insaaaane bro

these are two Normal Guys who are each living their Own Careers and while it's wonderful to enjoy the things that bond them and are special about them, they are still going to be Normal! and they will not view these tiny insignificant moments where they didn’t fully acknowledge the other with any magnitude at all! they are not expecting a level of devotion to each other that certain fans are! Oscar didn’t notice or care that Lando didn’t make anything special out of his home race and their pre-race fan stage was funny and sweet! Lando didn’t notice or even assume that Oscar should thank him specifically for team orders when Lando himself didn’t thank Oscar for team orders!

like I just cannot emphasize enough the importance of separating fun rpf narratives from reality. Lando tried to mess up Carlos’ parking job before the race as a joke to get back at him over the sign the day before - and then Carlos very firmly said that Lando absolutely should have given Oscar his place back and he even commented on one of Oscar’s posts despite not following him. this does not mean Carlos and Lando are beefing or that Carlos is being mean by going out of his way for Oscar! will I run with that single comment for carcar fodder absolutely - but that is fiction! nobody's mad at anybody!

and then there's the things that don't exist in Formula 1: "Oscar shouldn't have accepted the orders" "McLaren are out to get Lando" "Lando already gets too much hate"

- Oscar apologized for his pace and complications and he gave a very subdued little speech over the radio which was very big of him (and very wrong of McLaren to put him in that position) but if someone thinks any driver including Lando would even slightly imply "nah give the win to my teammate not me" then they’re categorically living on another plane of stan-ism that I can't comprehend. Lando literally said multiple times after this race how he has been the one to benefit from strategy working in his favor - both by McLaren and other teams. he's many many times made a cheeky face or made a joke when he's gotten away with something that fans of a rival driver or team were rightfully furious about. and if a person thinks it was mean when some ppl criticized the role that serendipity played in Miami then maybe that same person shouldn't start biting chunks out of Oscar about the same thing idk !!

Lando repeatedly said how much Oscar has done for him and if his Oscar-hating stans choose to think he's wrong or lying then idk !! he's being mature and fair so like, live n learn from your idol !

and can I just echo everyone saying 'please stop comparing this to brocedes or sebmark' or honestly even charlos? I'm doing bullet lists apparently so I'll do another one lafgljsafgsa

- brocedes is entirely due to their complicated and abnormally intimate lifelong history together leading up to F1. they were already Not Normal Friends and that made for the tinderbox that was their F1 careers together. literally they were destined to have to rupture that level of intimacy if they weren't going to just like get married to each other. they always needed to turn that relationship into something milder and less intense and it would always have exploded no matter what adult lives they had. F1 just made the explosion more violent and public. there’s truly no comparing them with anyone else.

- Oscar bears no resemblance to Mark and Lando bears no resemblance to Seb. Seb as he was in his heyday was... not shy or bashful about being a madman. sebmark never once looked like landoscar and it wasn't this huge revelation that that relationship would end up where it did !!

- Charles and Carlos have a negligible career/experience gap compared to Lando and Oscar and their temperaments are as much primed for friction as Lando and Oscar's are complimentary to each other. not to like 'they're so continental!' charlos but like, their already passionate natures got thrown into a rolling boil of Italian heritage racing and it's why the whole love/hate being sides of the same coin thing always happens with them. their families are even houses alike in dignity etc etc. it's Pure Drama and Intensity and always has been, both good and bad. they’re as terrible at using PR to smooth things over as landoscar are at not even bothering with PR. when Charles and Carlos are good together they’re passionately all over each other and when they’re mad at each other it’s messy and all over the press like a warring celebrity couple. Lando and Oscar are still delicately pawing at their relationship to know what it is and they still shyly touch as if seeking permission. Lando and Oscar are so not PR friendly that even Netflix gave up on them as a narrative entirely. Charles and Carlos are Shakespeare. Lando and Oscar are Jane Austen. Ferrari is the Capulet/Montague pride before the fall. McLaren is Mrs. Bennett trying to social climb using her daughters as bait.

as someone who follows blogs for multiple diff teams and drivers, trust me I see a lot of "my opinion of him is gone forever after this!!!" about something their own fave driver did even just a few races ago and absolutely will do again. same with "the team is destroying him and favoring his teammate!" like I straight up will see that said by each teammate's fanbase of the same team about the same race. this happens at different times throughout the season in every single team I follow - it even happened w Williams of all teams (tho so far that's just the once).

I'm a fake so obv I'm not going to weigh in myself but my cousins and their friends who watch F1 on the app at my house - and who aren't represented ethnically by any driver or team so they don't have bias - always have a much more calm and nuanced take. they assume every driver is out for themselves and by that very fact alone, teams have to take sides when the gap closes. and !! that millionaires doing an elite sport aren't experiencing mental distress over this sport the way common people experience distress over real life !! they go and bury their "woes" in extravagant luxury and an entire army of hugely biased family, supporters and fanbases all of whom think said driver deserves everything.

and that it takes truly heinous betrayal or outright evil to make these guys hate each other with any serious level of depth bc they all know they're The Selfish Asshole just as easily as the other guy. 

so I personally trust their takes on things and it's probably why I've always assumed Lando and Oscar would be Normal and have their little tiffs like everyone else does. bc it's rule one of making it to this level of the sport that you have to think selfishly. straight up I'm astounded at how quickly they've both been able to shake that 'visors down' mentality that Andrea referenced in the post race video and see the bigger picture and not be The Asshole to each other. 

and overall I don’t mind my dash being a warzone of wild accusations immediately after a race bc everyone usually calms down.

but there are certain things I just do not want on my dash and it's actually not related to what driver a person hates or not....

because while it's silly to see any of these privileged little princes as A Victim and Would Never Do That To Their Teammate (which would honestly get you laughed at by said driver) it's pretty common biased fan behavior. even tho Lando literally kept reminding people that Oscar's swallowed his own pride over things for Lando's benefit many times and that he (Lando) has been on the receiving end of podiums that came from strategies working in his favor (McLaren’s and that of other teams).

and like the idea that Oscar is now some heinous human being bc he's behaving like every other driver including Lando by Lando's own admission is hysterical. the idea that F1 teams are ever in any way benevolent kindly forces or that F1 drivers have anything akin to 'selflessness' over race wins is hysterical.

but where I draw a line is stanning for men in this sport so hard to the point of insane amounts of agonized doomposting and biased venomous rage. sorry but most of us don't want our precious time wasted agonizing over which self-confessed selfish millionaire in a sport founded on and maintained by pure elitism is feeling So Bad and So Sad! that he runs off to be comforted by a beautiful woman/women and adoring family and coddling hangers-on and legions of worshiping, wholly biased fans and millions of dollars on gigantic yachts because the absurdly unnecessary sport he gets to do isn't "looking after him well enough" or "prioritizing his happiness" !!!!?????? 

like fuck I'm a callous bitch ig but I'm not feeling an ounce of genuine upset whenever one of these men experiences a level of "my sport makes me sad". "oh but it's all they've known !! it's all relative !! money and privilege don’t equal happiness and privileged men suffer too !!" oh stfu no it doesn't and no they're not like stockholm syndrom victims and if they're so unhappy then they can put on their big boy boots and take their money and go fucking do something else holy SHITTTTT 

am I not here for allowing any portion of my human empathy to go to a fuuucCKING F1 driver jeeeeeeesusss. all of these men fully have the potential to get metoo’d or exposed about smth bc they're all capable of doing awful things by the time they're in F2 -male pro athletes are NOT objectively safe spaces to hang human morality or to assign automatic grace and good intent - let alone bleed pain or feel sadness for their race results or issues with their teams.

there is no acceptable moral relativity for me and these men and this sport are only of interest to me as a hyperfixation that gives me enjoyment in the form of narratives and a very specific, surface degree of enjoyment.

it’s fine if Lando or Oscar feel their feelings of frustration or anger etc but no way in hell am I going to feel remotely sad for them ??? they’re fine ?? there are genuinely sad things in my life and in the world and millionaires wanting trophies and points isn’t among them !! I’m not entwining my day-to-day happiness in any way with what they get up to and I’ll take what I can enjoy from them and ignore everything else.

and to wrap up this epic which I’m only indulging in bc I do feel like my blog sometimes seems like I’m pushing my own silly narratives on others and genuinely I’m not intending to - most of the reason I actually got drawn to landoscar and wanted to engage in fandom about them is precisely because their real life non-rpf dynamic is so unusually mature and considerate and not toxic or like, at all even overtly masculine. yea I originally got drawn into f1blr for the usual bromance rpf types like carland0 and dand0 etc but I didn’t rly care enough to engage in any way. 

but I think this is why I know that the ppl wanting Lando and Oscar to become this insane toxic mess are going to keep raging with disappointment - kind of like how I knew Lando and Max would be perfect again after just a few days while so many ppl hoped it was the start of some battle royale to last years that would end their close friendship. and why I knew Logan and Alex would end up with a genuine, heartfelt friendship when so many ppl assumed Alex would see Logan as one foot out the door and just wait to bond with a more worthy teammate. now we’ve got Alex saying how he and Lily casually talk about Logan for no reason at all and their friendship surviving Alex being given Logan’s car <3

I genuinely don’t bullshit myself into enjoying dynamics unless they feel real - so whatever friction I ever sense between Lando and Oscar as a result of them pushing each other to be the best they can be and helping to bring McLaren from the back of the field to WCC contender, isn’t at odds with them being gentle and unusually private and earnestly aware of each other. bromances were always Lando’s PR insurance with his other two teammates - a nice bandaid to cover moments where cracks showed or Lando didn’t hide his emotions enough. it’s something a lot of teammates use for the same purpose. but Lando and Oscar deciding to forgo that and have their little privacy door to shut out everyone else but each other from their drivers rooms, and how they will be doing interviews and then get distracted talking to each other over things that only interest them, and traveling and hanging out together without giving McLaren PR any material to use… like that’s a lovely, tender little unpretentious narrative to enjoy. watching them tiptoe so cautiously around an almighty cockup on McLaren’s pitwall side and Lando trying to pull himself up out of murky defeat for Oscar and Oscar deciding to celebrate so modestly because what a mess that ending was for them both. 

like I just don’t see a need for trying to invent ways to be unhappy or miserable or fabricate a doomed anything when they’re both still so sweet <3 <3 (and honestly it’s the same old tune of McLaren’s strategy needing a swift smack around the head)

tysm babe and I hope this one helped as well <3<3

[firstkanaphans]

Oh the lengths I'd go to see the bts of the apartment fight scene 😭😭😭😭😭 that must've been so tough on FirstKhao but JFC???!?!?!??? THEIR TALENT???????? I'm still in shock, I'll need the whole week to recover

Judging by the five (5!) asks I have in my inbox, y’all really want to talk about the apartment scene 😂 So let’s do it!

First, just a little background on me. I work with addicts on a daily basis and although it’s not alcohol addiction I’m dealing with, the psychology of it is the same. I’ve seen a few people be critical of Ray choosing to change for someone other than himself, but—and I cannot stress this enough—if someone wants to change at all, I don’t really give a fuck what their reason is. Do you know how hard it is to make people want to change?

In my experience, most people want to change for someone else because most people with an addiction have already been so beaten down by the addiction itself that they no longer think they’re worth saving. Someone genuinely wanting to change for themself comes later. At the beginning, people are usually motivated by their family. 

The danger of this, of course, is that if you lose your reason to change, you also lose your motivation to change, and this is what we see happen between Sand and Ray in the apartment scene.

Ray spends the majority of this episode very blasé about rehab. He still doesn’t think he has a problem and is essentially just going through the motions to please Sand. He’s throwing away his wine bottles, but not in a way that’s permanent. He doesn’t pour them out. He doesn’t even get rid of all of them and he’s sipping on a glass of whiskey as he does it. He’s doing it for show. So when he learns that Sand isn’t just asking him to go to rehab out of the goodness of his heart—that he’s getting paid to do it—Ray finally has what he has wanted all along: an excuse not to go.

I think something people don’t talk about enough when it comes to addiction is how comforting the addiction is to the person who’s addicted. It’s their security blanket. It’s the thing that helps them get through the day. Often, it’s the only thing that makes them want to be alive even as it’s slowly killing them. Any normal person is going to be resistant to that change. So Ray gives Sand what he thinks is an impossible ultimatum: You tell your father who you are (something you have spent the past twenty-two years not doing) and I will go to rehab. 

Only Sand cares about him so much that he actually does it.

I truly believe that even in the absence of Ray’s father paying Sand, their blow-up in the apartment would have happened anyway. Ray would have found something to sever ties with Sand over because without Sand, he has no obligation to go to rehab. Addicts will do anything—and hurt anyone—to keep the source of their addiction close. And I also think that there’s still a part of Ray that wants to save Sand from himself. He said it to Mew early on: “You deserve a nice guy.” Ray thinks Sand deserves someone better.

Khaotung acted his ass off this whole episode, but what I really loved was the nuance First brought to Sand’s character. He lets Ray yell because he knows he’s done wrong, but he also understands that they aren’t just yelling about the money. He knows Ray doesn’t actually believe what he’s saying. Sand has always refused any money Ray gave him. He’s been nothing but caring. Nothing but kind. He knows that Ray’s trying to push him away and he has no choice but to let him. No choice but to continue letting Ray hurt himself.

And then, after the fight, we see Ray drinking again, no longer even trying to pretend, and my favorite part of the entire episode is the fact that what makes Ray finally choose to get help is the knowledge that he has hurt Sand. The realization of how much pain he has caused him. The acknowledgement that this relationship is the most important thing to him and he’s willing to do absolutely anything he can to save it.

My dad got sober for me and my sister. My best friend got sober for her unborn child. That is the kind of love we're working with here. The kind of love that makes you want to be a better person.

[juneisafantasyaddict]

The writers of the SaB show seem to be pulling the exact same shit that lb did in the books. because there’s no way they think ignoring everything the grisha have been forced to endure, pretending that the darkling is the beginning and end of their issues and ravka’s, making sure alina never understands what she’s actually fighting for, etc is going to do anything except make me root for the darkling even more.

The entire second season gives me flashbacks to that insane trilogy because somehow they managed to be even worse than the books. they have alina telling the darkling that he doesn’t understand sacrifice?? really??? a man who has spent centuries of his life fighting for the betterment of his people doesn’t understand sacrifice?? the person who literally made protecting grisha his life goal doesn’t understand sacrifice??? does alina realize that the only reason she wasn’t killed the moment she was discovered was because of him?? because of the work he has done??

They had time for baghra to tell stories about her crazy family and how she killed her sister, but there was no time for her to say “this is what life was like before my son decided he was going to make it better for our kind?” if anything, they just pissed me off more because how the fuck is it possible that they are pretending the biggest issue they have is the darkling?? not the monarchy that has exploited grisha and ravka, not the fjerdans who hunt and kill grisha, not shu han who experiments on them??

Sigh, I can’t even write out my thoughts coherently because I’m so irritated by pretty much everything that happened this season. I’m irritated that instead of telling a complex story, we got this dumbed down garbage that tells us nothing, accomplishes nothing beyond “guy in black is bad.” the narrative condemns him for using merzost because he was so desperate to save his people, he tried forbidden magic, but 20 seconds later the hero is using that same forbidden power to bring her boyfriend back to life??? With zero repercussions?? I want to scream!!

If the narrative is so sure they are right, if they are so sure the darkling is wrong about everything, then why are they so afraid to expose the hero to the suffering of her people?? Let her see what they have to deal with, let her truly understand then. She has been a grisha for less than a year, and somehow she knows what’s best for them?? She doesn’t even know them. The show writers literally spent this season making her chase Mal around. Look what happened when they were going after the seawhip, two people died because she didn’t want to kill it, but they moment it went after Mal, suddenly killing it was ok. Her side of the war got attacked and instead of checking to make sure everyone was ok, including her friend’s brother who was literally about to lose his arm, she was screaming about Mal. You want to tell me about sacrifice?? She only cared about one person, and he was perfectly fine at the end. What does she know about sacrifice?? Why oh why is this fucking story just so determined to make her make all the worst possible decisions??

Incase you haven’t noticed, I haven’t talked about the crows at all, because I hate their presence in this story. They are a distraction!!! The grisha are fighting for their right to exist, Ravka is in the middle of a civil war, I do not have the time to follow the shenanigans of a group of criminals from a different country. I still don’t understand their purpose in this story, except comic relief?? 🤦🏽‍♀️

I love Alina, I really do, but jfc you cannot girl boss your way out of real solutions. They have her basically serving the monarchy and the whole time I kept thinking, if I were grisha, I wouldn’t follow her. She’s the leader of the second army but she’s wearing a first army uniform, she’s more interested in protecting the Lanstov throne than she is in protecting her people. She’s so blinded by everyone saying “the darkling is bad, the fold needs to go” she’s not stopping to say “what happens when the fold is gone?” “What happens after the war?” Because surely, she isn’t naive enough to think the people who started killing grisha as soon as they thought the darkling was gone are going to live peacefully with them now?? It took 2 seconds after the darkling died for Fjerda to send an assassin on jurda parem into ravka. Now that there’s no fold to stop them, what will stop Fjerda or Shu Han from sending an army?? Ignoring everything else the crows did, Kaz was right when he said “when they stop looking at her with gratitude, they’ll start to wonder if she hasn’t overstayed her welcome.” Which is basically what Aleksander kept saying btw, they are not going to love you for long, they are going to hate you eventually because they are afraid of what they don’t understand.

I don’t even know what the point of this was, but yeah, I guess it was a rant about how Fucking ridiculous season 2 of shadow and bone was.

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Wilbert's Worst

Right, so I really was open to having my mind changed on The Worst One but nobody’s argument has budged me.

I was going to write a complete, balanced essay on The Worst W. Awdry Book, but I’m a) mired in the research phase (hey if anyone knows someone with an encyclopedic knowledge of Tom and Jerry hit me up, for real) and b) right now I wanna talk about the characters and their Beloved Dynamics instead. 

So I'm just gonna get this out of the way so I can post the poll and move on to answering fun asks and watching Tom and Jerry in peace. Behold: a salty and unbalanced review.

Wilbert’s biggest failure of a children’s storybook? 

Henry the Green Engine 

Ohhh… because of the, uh, ra —?

Because of the racism, yes!

Oh. You do know that since 1972 they’ve republished it without the n-slur? 

Good for them. Two things: 

1. I know it used to be there, I’m never able to read it without knowing it was there in the first edition.

2. I consistently try, when ranking the books, to consider them in the context in which they came out. Because of this, I don’t like using “things that happened later” (like a new character never being properly used again or whatever) against the book. This helps me evaluate the author’s successes and failures against what they were trying to achieve when they wrote it vs what I would most want (blorbo content). It helps me not bring to bear the whole weight of fanon and fandom on a text that should be able to stand or fall on its own. Tl;dr I try to read the books like a guy who picked it up in 1951, or whatever. 

And yeah, if I’d bought this when it came out it would have had the slur. I’m going to judge it accordingly. 

Look, racism is bad, no argument, but does that mean the book as a whole must be condemned? 

Yeah, I think the slur and the “aaaand suddenly, blackface! heeheehee” bullshit fuck over the entire book, game over. Go directly to jail, do not collect $200. 

The Railway Series is not a work of high art or deep thorny complex literature. The books are meant for children — small children, at that. Children small enough to get bedtime stories read to them. The main goal of each book (especially this early on — you do have to manage secondary priorities like “pleasing the long-time fanbase” the longer you go, but right now we’re only 6 books into the series) is to create a happy imaginary world to enhance childhoods and family lives… to impart to other parents and kids a similar cosy happiness to that the author and his own kids enjoyed when he was workshopping/drafting the stories for them. When we say “children’s book” we really do mean little’uns — these average 1.25 full-color illustrations per page!

And these books sold in large numbers. This means it’s a certainty that somewhere in 1951 there was a Black family who owned the whole series, who went out to the shops, whose kid was like “ooh! Henry gets a book, neat…,” who like everyone else enjoyed the wild ride of Henry’s inspection and coal and wreck and rebuild… only to get verbally spat on one page from the end. 

Real mood-killer there. Epic fail, as the cool kids used to say in my youth. 

All right, fine, cool kids never said that. Anyway, statistically speaking there was certainly even more than one family that got that experience. Not to mention the non-Black families who even in 1951 were like “... wtf? i’d smack my kid if they ever said a word like that around me, geez. no.” Just a lot of people who had the light the book was kindling in them snuffed out all at once. 

You can actually be totally racist and your book not commit creative suicide on the penultimate page! Awdry flubbed his job of 'bestselling books-for-six-year-olds' here. Creative failure. Unforced error. Automatic zero. 

But times were different then, you have to consider it in the context of the time. 

1951 U.K. was not the nadir of multiracial equality or Black power, but jfc. I can assure you that over 99% of children’s books published that year in the Anglosphere managed to not use the n-slur. 

All right, all right. That was bad. But this feels off-topic. If you had never known about what used to be “Henry’s Sneeze,” would you still rank the entire book as dead last in the Wilbert Awdry corpus? 

Not dead last, but it is not a strong book. “Coal” and “The Flying Kipper” are super-interesting as material for Henry, but after that the book kind of falls off a cliff; the intrigue drops dramatically. The railway incidents chosen to make stories of are all solid choices, but it was not only “Sneeze” where Awdry’s handling of the material feels clumsy and weird. (And I’m not even talking here of the “heehee blackface — ain’t i a stinker?” gag in “Sneeze.”) 

But… “The Flying Kipper”? C’mon. It’s a superb story and no book that contains it can be the absolute worst in the series. 

“TFK” remains easily the best single TVS episode ever – but a lot of that is down to Britt and David’s artistry and judgment. 

Don’t get me wrong, a full-on railway wreck makes interesting material. But I don’t think the book does nearly as much with it as it could (and I’m trying sooooo hard here to forget about the amazing TVS adaptation, as I think it REALLY shows Awdry up. Even so, the storytelling here is surprisingly tepid and low-stakes). I get that Awdry probably wanted to lean into the comic angle and not make Henry’s condition afterwards seem too grave, in order to ensure the material wasn’t too dark for his young audience? (*mutters* again, a level of tender consideration for his readers’ youth that went right out the window when it came to small Black kids, evidently coz he couldn’t imagine that they read) Understandable, laudable — but if he outright refuses* to make the wreck too dramatic or scary then, well, then the wreck isn’t real scary or dramatic. And it can’t save the rest of the book from its flaws. 

*For all I know it could have been the publishers who insisted that the wreck be made preschooler-safe, that’s possible (although it’s also consistent with Awdry’s brand of humor and his overall low degree of emotionalism in his writing). Either way, though, the end result book is what it is and it will be judged accordingly. 

In addition to not being as exciting as many remember... @trainsupessandhuntresses asked me once if I thought some of Awdry's stories were "mean-spirited." I had to assent vigorously. And a surprisingly high proportion of those "mean" moments are in Henry the Green Engine? For some reason? It’s not just the racism. Awdry was not in the game to give Henry a deserved happy ending, he’d wanted to kill him off (the fuck?) and when his publishers prevented him (I don’t say this often, especially since I love how salty the Awdrys get about their publishers, but this in case good job, publishers!!) he wrote “TFK” with the primary motivation of giving Henry a new engine basis. Any soft or hearty emotions we get out of the deal are a side-effect — the only emotion that was fueling Awdry as he wrote this was spite, spite and a weird resentment towards his poor, long-suffering, invaluable illustrator. (I don’t blame Awdry for being frustrated that the engine illustrations were continually inaccurate or confusing, but I do think it’s weird to read all this great Henry material knowing that it was written with such poor grace.) 

So his ‘happy Henry’ stuff feels perfunctory; his Percy interlude is just brutal (why did you have to drag Percy into Henry’s book purely to give him a fuck-up, a scolding, and a messy dunce cap?); Gordon’s savaging of Henry for being too happy after recovering from a near-death experience is such an incredibly low point for Gordon that it’s hard for me to accept it as canon (there’s being proud, boastful, and self-absorbed, and then there’s being the straight-up raccoon dumpster fire Gordon is in that scene). Oh, and I think “call the police [local constabulary, doesn’t bear firearms]” woulda probably a less reckless way of dealing with the rock-throwing youths than the sneeze of hot locomotive ashes, which of course the Fat Controller doesn’t like, that shit coulda been real dangerous! Mind, there are small rays of kindness throughout that do get me (the interactions between Henry and his crew feeling to me the least perfunctory and most heartfelt), but this is overall such a mean-spirited book. God. It starts off with such a gentle story (almost a non-story, if you’re in it purely for the “railway incidents” game and not character drama), but in short order the vibes just sorta suck. At least in other RWS books, when the vibes are off, they’re usually off near the beginning and then improve by the end. This one gets worse as it goes on. Oof. Don’t like that. 

Also, the last page is sooooo lame. I suspect the publisher strong-armed Awdry into writing most of it so that at least the slur wasn’t on the last page of the book... and if Awdry had any idea of how much he’d just empowered Henry and all his fans in this book he shouldn’t have found it hard to find 50 extra words to sum things up. As it was, he’s just filling space and running out the clock, lol. Lame wrap-up. Boring. As usual when it comes to every little thing about this book, Britt and David closed this up better (mind, their closer – “He had taught Gordon and silly boys a lesson, with a whistle and a sneeze” – also sucked. But at least it was blessedly short.)

Didn’t you once list HtGE on a list of your favorite Wilbert Awdry books? 

I did list it as one of the books that “at one time or another” have been my favorite in the series. Unfortunately in the case of HtGE, that was back when I really couldn’t read a story that I knew from the TVS without mentally substituting the adaptation into my brain as I read… largely overriding the actual text. Plus, everything I knew from TVS as a kid kind of automatically got a halo effect. Plus, I was super into Henry’s arc. 

The first time I read HtGE after calming down and actually reading all the books as books... massive disappointment. There is such a gap there between what I'd thought the book said (all our incredible fanon work overanalyzing and headcanoning Henry and building this beautiful fantasy arc about disability!) vs. what it actually said (limp and careless writing, mean vibes, airbrushed n-slur, bad aftertaste). 

I do think there is some stuff about the development of Awdry’s storytelling technique here that is interesting (again, Tom and Jerry superfans reading this, please shoot me a message!) but it doesn’t counteract everything else. 

At least we’re over the racism stuff? 

Nah, I’m not over it, actually. 

[bengiyo]

Eternal Yesterday Ep 8 (Finale) Stray Thoughts

It's time to say goodbye to a show about letting go. I'm getting in my feelings and I haven't even pressed play yet. This show is a prime example of what I love most about Japan. If anyone is going to handle difficult topics well, I trust them to do it. This show has such a surreal premise, but it's been one of the mostly thematically cogent show I've watched all year.

We left at Koichi hiding from Mitsuru, but now they're back and about to have their first time together. I am prepared for my typical Japanese disappointment.

"It's getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes."

Oh no. Have the hoses spraying in the intro been about how these two have their major intimate moments in the rain?

I've been a fan of boys talking before their first time since Four Moons (2014).

It is so poignant, and so much like Japan, to layer the first real bed scene MBS has attempted (and I think the only one from Japan this year) with the grief that in so many ways this is a goodbye. Koichi gets to break down in the shelter from the rain again and lament that he can't stay with Mitsuru anymore. They finally explicitly share deeper physical intimacy with each other, but it only affirms how much they meant to each other in the past tense, because Koichi can't stay. I'm feeling an intense melancholy coming on.

Though, props to Kamiya Rio and Sora Inoue for doing the best job with kissing from MBS this year. It pales in comparison to what Taiwan and Thailand are willing to do, but I respect it from two Japanese actors.

Emotionally overwhelmed by the table talk with the dad.

I was not prepared for the reveal that the mother lost her own battle with ideation, and then hung around as a walking corpse. That's so messed up.

I like the gentle way the dad acknowledged that he knew that Mitsuru and Koichi were more than friends, and crossed the boundary that separates them to offer his son some physical and emotional comfort. "You don't need to force yourself to heal," is such a gentle thing to say to someone grieving the loss of a loved one.

And now we're on a camping trip alone five years later.

I am actually okay with hand waiving the discovery of Koichi and everyone forgetting the supernatural. We don't need to revel in the grotesque there.

I am deeply saddened by the realization that Mitsuru may never find a way to reconcile his feelings for Koichi and experience another close connection. That is unfortunately a very familiar experience for me.

Oh no, we're getting the story from Koichi's perspective. I'm going to cry.

JFC the reveals in this finale. Koichi was adopted by his uncle because his mom abandoned him.

We're going to need to have a real reckoning with Japan about how the couple I've believed the most this year were genuinely mutually attracted to each other had one of them dead the whole time. I am aching.

This was such an emotionally gut-wrenching experience. I haven't unpacked feelings this show yanked out in fourteen years.

Final Verdict: 10, Recommended for fans of poignant queer cinema. I suspect many others will DNF or rate this show poorly for its themes about sadness. However, I assert that this show never tricked us about that at all. This entire show was a meditation on grief and how certain losses stay with us. This is not unlike 180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us for me. Few BLs have made me feel as intensely as this show has, and I will be thinking about it for a long time.

[emsuemsu]

@hprecfest day 15: most recent bookmark

I don’t bookmark and I consider it my biggest flaw. Like I just slam everything down to ”marked for later”-list and hope for the best when trying to find something from there. It’s chaotic. I’ll go into 2024 with two resolutions: quit smoking and start to bookmark my shit. Here’s my two most recent reads worthy of a bookmark though, maybe I’ll start my bookmarking career with these:

Former Things Come to Mind 🩵 64,073 words, draco/harry

Harry Potter has had a headache for seven and a half years.

This is from this years @hd-erised, fresh from the oven just published yesterday, and let me tell you how I screamed and creamed reading those tags (omorashi???? jfc). I cried myself through this fic. It's incredibly raw and tender and loving and painful and the state this fic left me... a mess. An utter, complete mess. An absolute unit of a story that ruined me in the best way possible.

Nighthawks by @m0srael 🩵 13,555 words, draco/harry

"The more he’d thought about it–and he had thought about it–the less certain he’d become that Draco had really been there, glowing in the murky glass of the diner window next to Harry’s stunned reflection like some cruel mockery of the Mirror of Erised. The longer he’d lain in bed, awake and fully clothed, the more convinced he was that he’s having some sort of mental breakdown. The long days and even longer nights must finally be getting to him, just like Hermione said they would. Because the fact of the matter is that Draco Malfoy couldn’t have been in this diner, his diner. Draco is thousands of kilometers, and a whole lifetime, away." In which Harry and Draco frequent the same diner when they can't sleep. Except--Draco left the UK five years ago, right after he broke Harry's heart.

Oh how I love this story. Right up my alley with the longing, the angst, the feels, the lonely diner in the rain vibes, the flashbacks... everything in this fic is heaven sent. Break up-make up has my heart, and this is an A+ example of it.

[hydrxnessa]

oc stuff ⁉️⁉️

meet trojan !! he's the villain antagonist to the oc storyline 'scales' descent' (which is part of the main story of 'startex: singularity' aka the name of my entire oc universe-- ugh i should actually like draw all my ideas out i sound a little crazy rn). he's evil. he's a scientist. he's a little sick in the brain and also he coughs too much (like me fr)

funny story. i got incredibly sick and i rested practically the whole day on friday so i couldn't really do much. BUT. when i woke up like early 1am the next day, i had a weird short burst of euphoria that i suddenly remembered this fella i made three years ago so here comes the brainrot to this storyline !!~ like i made trojan because i was like wow. these two (hydra and lyura) need someone who actually made them amalgamations. gonna throw evil scientist man here (and then i proceed to not develop him at all). but here i am, years later with his flirty, arrogant personality~ and about time too, like jfc this story has gone through so many revamps ever since 2019. trying to piece ideas together is weird and im lazy asf

anyways here if u want notes on the main cast, i'll probably start posting oc content more often here because i like tumblr. and instagram is becoming intimidating. hope u don't mind <3

oh and about the doors/rooms cast. yeah over the past few days i'm beginning to lose interest in doors. like i literally haven't touched the game in probably a month. but~ that's not to say the creatures are disappearing for good. i'll probably still draw them, just sparingly. plus, like i did with my stray ocs, they're gonna probably be in the startex universe. how? i dont know but i dont want to leave them purely in the doors universe because i love them<3

but for now ig, ocs is what you might see more.

.. here's the song i basically stole trojan's name from (warning, it's a little heavy. heavy metal/rock type. yes i'm an avid DAGames/IRIS enjoyer please interact w me--)

[circulars-reasoning]

"Teacher Therapy" -- JFC

Anyone ready for a break from my usual content? Good, stay with me.

A friend linked me this absolutely fucking god awful video, and I really need a good break to write about what I'm actually passionate about (Teaching). I cannot resist writing a live-blog reaction commentary to this. Below is Teacher Discourse, and the video is all about why this person quit teaching due to... a lack of corporal punishment in schools???? Boy howdy, let's get into this.

Timestamps are listed out, and those are when I paused to address what was just said.

TW for: Advocating for Child Abuse, mentions of trauma, and an entire ramble about, y'know. The American School System.

Timestamp 0:15 - Those of you who aren't teachers might be wondering what these behavioral plans are. She explains them later in the video, but I thought it might help you to see them described here.

Maybe you had them as a kid, maybe you didn't, but they're all the rage nowadays. She specifically mentions PBIS (which actually is not what the system is called anymore - this specific behavioral system is called MTSS now, or "Multi Tiered Student/Structural Supports." I'll be calling it PBIS, or "Positive Behavioral Interventions & Supports," for the purposes of this post, as what this teacher is specifically bitching about pertains to the structure of punishment.). I happen to work at a school which uses PBIS, so here's the breakdown of how it works:

Students receive positive or negative reinforcement for good behaviors. Positive Reinforcements (such as school currency, more recess time provided, or mid-month games for good behavior) and Negative Reinforcements (such as removal of assignments, removal of class-time, early dismissals) are given for individuals, whole classes, or entire schools in the case of good behaviors. Then, for bad behaviors, students receive positive and negative punishments. Negative punishments (removal of privileges, removal of peer attention, etc) are typically used less than positive punishments. Positive punishments in PBIS look like "Steps." Here's my school's step system:

At the start of the year, and throughout the school year, the values presented by the PBIS system are shown to students, with clear expectations. Students are told that they will receive steps when they have broken or ignored these PBIS standards. A student misbehaves in Semester 1 by speaking during a test during English, which goes against the Respectful standard. After many informal warnings about this behavior, the behavior continues, and the student receives a Step. This is Step One. Step One is a formal warning, and an email home. Then, they misbehave the next day in Math by breaking pencils - also against the Respectful standard (this one gets broken the most, I won't lie). They receive Step Two, which is a classroom reflection form and an email home. Step Three is a lunch detention. Step Four is a meeting with an administrator and a counselor. And Step Five is a referral. The student cannot get rid of steps, but they reset at the start of Semester 2. Students also cannot get two steps in one day unless the teacher who wants to give a second step contacts the counselor first. I've never seen a student earn two in one day.

To put it in perspective - the majority of my students, by this end of Semester 2 (when teachers and kids are more burnt out and volatile) currently have at most two steps. There are some who have, like, 12, but they are very rare and often have problems that a school management system cannot solve (disorders, trauma, etc) and are handled on a more case by case basis. Also, students who do bigger actions - for instance, punching another student or threatening another student - receive referrals and bigger consequences, bypassing the step system due to the severity of the broken rule.

The TL;DR: PBIS is a system of positive and negative supports that encourage students to follow well detailed rules. If students break the rules, they receive increasingly more severe consequences. Students are given more chances to learn from mistakes this way, and it genuinely works in the placement I am at currently. Let's see how this woman fucks it up.

0:22 - "I hate to say the quality of kids, but- haha" Oh so you're a mask off kid-hater. Awesome! Yeah, there's a reason you hate to say it, and it's because you're arguing that kids have value based on their behaviors. That a kid can have a level of quality, like they're a fucking watermelon that's a little overripe at the store. The elementary schoolers are not produce you can scrunch your nose at, Martha, that's a living person!!!

0:28 - "The moral development of the kids in our classrooms are at a totally different place." No? Coming from someone who went into teaching straight out of schooling, absolutely not. I see the same exact behaviors at the schools I teach at that I always saw, with some minor variations in sourcing of behaviors. For instance, when I was school, kids would vandalize because their friends dared them to. Now, the kids vandalize because TikTok told them to. Wow, big difference, still a problem (and I could rant about how social media is harmful, but that's neither here nor now).

0:56 - "If you were to go to other countries-" I"m going to cut you off right there. Your gripe is with the American school system. I don't give a fuck what it's like in other countries at the moment, because taking into consideration their behavioral supports also means dissecting the health care in that country, the poverty levels in that country, the socio-economic status of the individuals attending school, the rigor of the teaching degrees in those countries, the age of the goddamn students being spoken about-- this is such a useless point to mention, and we aren't even a minute into the video!!! If you have a complaint about the American school system, mention it, obviously, but not in your video which, thus far, seems to be about why kids are morally bankrupt.

1:26 - "Those out of control schools are the very ones that gravitate toward these kind of New Age discipline philosophies." Oh my god. Woman. 1, no, that's blatantly false; schools of all kinds are making the switch to these systems because it's shown a marked improvement on behavioral issues when done well. 2, NEW AGE DISCIPLINE PHILOSOPHIES?? PBIS was introduced in 1997. That's the year I was BORN woman! 3, it's not a discipline philosophy. PBIS isn't about discipline. IT'S IN THE NAME!!! PBIS is meant to be a behavioral intervention and support. Intervention and Support means to correct someones course in life to prevent negative outcomes. Discipline means, and direct quote from the Google Definition here because it's perfect in this regard: "the practice of training people to obey rules or a code of behavior, using punishment to correct disobedience." So your issue with PBIS is that it doesn't condition students to obey you. At least tell it like it is.

1:59 - 'Here's my definition of PBIS for those who don't know-- anyways I made a poll for people to tell me if they want to bring back corporal punishment.' WHAT? Define the word!!! Define what it is!!! And god, what does the survey have to do with anything? How did your students learn anything when you jump tracks this quick?

2:15 - "People actually voted more highly in favor of bringing back corporal punishment, but it wasn't as big of a gap as I thought." That's disgusting, and I wish it were a bigger gap, in that I wish that there was .00001% of responders who said they wanted the punishment brought back. A teacher should never fucking advocate for the physical discomfort or distress of a child. Fucking hell. How did about 55% of people agree with hurting children? Disgusting.

2:31 - WHY DID YOU NEED TO MENTION THAT PADDLING IS STILL LEGAL IN SOME STATES??? Please someone fucking write to those senators of those 19 states (I should look up to make sure my state isn't one, jfc. EDIT: WHAT IN THE GODDAMN HOW MANY ABUSE VICTIMS ARE WE TALKING ABOUT? Oh my god I feel sick. It's not my state thank fuck but please consider writing to your senators to get this shit banned.)

2:51 - "They call that punitive and they say that's bad bad bad- hmhmm!" That's because it is. Do not half-chuckle at me, I do not agree with your thoughts that physical discomfort is somehow a good teaching tool.

2:54 - "Office referrals are completely off the table." Straight up lies. Unless you mean the extraneous referrals teachers who were salty were writing up for... throwing a pencil across the room out of anger? Y'know, she probably means that. She probably means that she isn't able to give a referral to that kid she hates.

3:21 - "The worst behaved kids are the ones getting all the rewards." That's because it's not rewards for behavior. It's conditioning. It's literally giving them rewards for the GOOD behaviors they have, to show them that these good behaviors have good repercussions, and the more things they do good, the better things are for them. The students who are already well behaved don't need a cheer squad celebrating that they sat in their chair that day instead of standing on it. This woman seems to think that showing kids that struggle with their behavior that good behavior has good repercussions is somehow rewarding the bad behaviors. (There's a lot I could say about this idea, and a lot of stuff I would love to discuss honestly, but I'm only 3 minutes into this dumpster fire.)

3:32 - The PBIS system actually has entire pages detailing why giving too many material based rewards (like the bag of candy she mentions) is actually a very bad idea. Instead, we should be giving them material rewards for behaviors at the start, but also positive affirmations and helping them see the consequences of their actions. "Hey, here's a [school currency], and look! Because you focused today, you turned in that assignment, which turns your grade into a B. I'm so proud of your progress today, keep it up!" The kid is going to correlate good behavior to good repercussions. You slowly stop giving out material rewards unless the kid still needs that support. But lord knows she never got to that point with her kids if she was only using PBIS as a punishment system, rather than behavioral management.

3:44 - If your best skill for "motivating students" was negative punishment (removal of privileges), then you should have been fired a LONG time ago. One of the biggest skills teachers need to have is learning how to motivate their students to learn simply because learning is amazing. My kids work hard, because I purposely choose books and curriculum alternatives that interest them. I give them surveys about how I can teach them better, and then I actively show them I am listening to them by actually doing the things they request. I discuss their requests! The form is 100% anonymous too. Treat the kids like people!! (Also? The kids still get detention, loss of recess, and especially in-school suspensions! It's just that we don't give them out for just any behavior we feel like -- we don't rule over the kids nearly as much as teachers like you would like).

4:00 - All of the attention is going to the kids who are acting out... as a means... to get attention they are lacking... and you're upset about this??? Does the attention really need to be going 100% all kids all the time full tilt, or are we able to focus on the kids who need more equitable attention? JFC, you're literally upset that kids who need more attention are now getting the attention they need.

4:17 - "The worst behaved kids got snacks!" Your kid was acting out because they were hungry. Full stop. A lot of the students you have actually experience a lot of food insecurity. That's exactly the kind of thing PBIS is helping to address; we show them through the step system that the way they're handling this situation isn't okay, and they need to change the behavior. Let's do a story here. I had a student who I gave a step to because he was playing games in class, which is against the school rules, and he'd already received his informal warnings. This led me to contact home. This led the parent to screen him for ADHD, because he had been reminded so many times to stop. This led to that student getting accommodations for extended time. We helped the student get benefits he needed. The snacks are no different; the student being sent to the office talks to a counselor, opens up about being hangry, and gets food because that's what they need to be successful. Punishing kids for being developmentally children, for being fucking human, is never going to work.

4:24 - Awww, someone's salty that the students told the principal how shitty she was. Newsflash, kids are oftentimes going to hate you because they're kids and you are in a position of authority over you. And that is 100% valid. I think that's fair of the student, because they're still learning to attribute their frustration of the system to the system. The student may hate you, and that's fine. Your job is not to make a child like you. In all honesty, I think students hating teachers is incredibly normal, because many of them have yet to realize that you are a human being and not just a cog in the authoritarian machine they're living under.

4:29 - This is the only point of hers that I agree with so far - A LOT of these systems are not being used the way they're supposed to be. Many teachers are using them as discipline, rather than interventions. They use them as a punishment - "be quiet or you will get a step." I've also found myself slipping down this path from time to time, and it absolutely is not helpful, to you or the kids. PBIS is an intervention system; it needs to be used to show students that the current behavior isn't working, and they need to tackle their problems by using the PBIS standards. I genuinely feel that PBIS needs a lot more clarity for the students, and that teachers need more training in it than they get. But let's see what her complaints are.

4:33 - BRIBE THE KID MODE??? Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh read a study on developing intrinsic vs extrinsic motivations in children you-- uuugh

4:47 - Classrooms would be silent, and "well-behaved," and absolutely no learning would get done. You would get your wish for perfectly behaved children because you'd be abusing them. This is traumatic. (This is also an overgeneralization - you would have longer stretches of quiet as you conditioned the students into being Perfect Angels, but you would inevitably run into the kids who have a Fight response to your punishment, and that is when you will be ill equipped to teaching that kid how to not try to kill you). You are talking about abusing children in the hopes of making them obey. Your job is to fucking teach them. Re-read the job description.

5:10 - HOW DOES SCRUBBING TOILETS HELP CORRECT BEHAVIOR OF BEING A JERK TO YOU IN CLASS? Genuinely, HOW? Even if you are going the punishment route, even IF you try to utilize that incredibly flawed premise... the punishment would need to correlate to the behavior you're trying to fix. This is why these people are awful teachers. They don't teach; they try to control, manipulate, and traumatize children into giving them the power rush they want.

5:19 - "And help beautify your school!" If the child is mouthing off at you, then you need to address that behavior. If the child connects mouthing off with "you are now being punished for that action by being a janitor" -- it's entirely likely they will then see those jobs as punishments, labeling those who have to do it as someone who did something "wrong." You're setting up incredibly bad associations, and now you've traumatized that child into believing that cleaning something indicates something is wrong. Source: I can't clean the bathroom without dissociating because cleaning = punishment, so if I'm cleaning, it's because I fucked up. Trauma fucks you up!

5:22 - My eyes have rolled so far that I got to see the inside of my brain melting from your rancid bullshit.

5:27 - The people cheering are child abusers.

5:33 - "We know at a deep internal level that it would work." It would traumatize them into obeying you. I'm so disgusted that you thought teaching was the best job for you. I'm so glad you quit. I hope everyone like you quits.

5:38 - Loosey Goosey??? It is well researched my guy. Like. It has been researched. (That last link is, sadly, the best I could find for that particular article.) You're just salty because it helps kids mental health instead of their "discipline."

5:43 - Bitch I was a long term sub for two straight years at both the middle and high school levels. I have been sliced open with nails, kids have attempted to asphyxiate me, and clocks/trash cans/phones have all been thrown at me. I get what you're talking about, and each and every instance of this was kids who had a disconnect between their behaviors and the reasons for those behaviors. Each time. 100%, I do not blame those children for their behaviors at all, because nobody had taught them how to connect their feelings to healthy actions. Their frustration about me asking them to sit led to them genuinely trying to kill me. That is how much people like you (and the exact opposite of you, but that might be for a different post) have hurt these children.

6:04 - Oh god if you're saying this is controversial NOW, I'm terrified for the upcoming escalation. Was the child abuse not controversial?!!

6:15 - T. Tiny little monster people. Ma'am. Ma'am that is an entire ass human person. That's just a living breathing individual. Imagine being the ex-student of this cunt. Imagine seeing her call you, someone who was in elementary school at the time, a monster. My heart goes out to everyone who had to suffer with this abuser in their lives.

6:19 - THE WORST OF HUMANITY THAT IS INSIDE ALL OF US? Honey, it's not inside you, you're wearing it like it's Gucci!

6:32 - The worst of humanity is not getting embodied in these students. I am so stunned that someone could even possibly suggest this. What in the goddamn. And you go on to describe behaviors like... oh no... they spit! Yes, the worst of humanity -- dictators, abusers, bigots, etc. -- clearly committed the worst sin of all: spitting. Shove a cactus up your ass and spin, and I swear, it would hurt less than me having to listen to you speak.

6:49 - I do not trust any single person who describes a student as manipulative. That is an Entire Ass Child.

7:15 - "They have them completely fooled." I am almost too disgusted for words... Reminder, this woman taught ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. Little ones, who are just learning school for the first time. And she is calling them, little monsters, "untrained," THE WORST OF HUMANITY???? How can anyone possibly agree with this woman? How do you get so jaded in a career that YOU CHOSE? If you ever, EVER, find yourself agreeing with what this woman says, then do not interact with a child ever again. I am so repulsed by her monologue here about how children are the scum of the earth when "untrained."

7:40 - Now you argue that right and wrong are being defined incorrectly? I do not trust this argument, ever. It SCREAMS puritan values. Tell me, what have we really 'redefined' about right and wrong?

8:11 - You've given no context for why the woman, a grown ass adult woman, was screaming at another. What was the context of the behavior?? Why did the woman need to have security called? Oh, that's right, your concern is to have people obedient, not actually fixing what's wrong in their life. Nice to see that extends to literal college aged students. Jesus christ how does anyone manage to hold a conversation with you without crying?

8:29 - Oooh so you're upset about riots huh? You're not a fan of people defending their rights. Unsurprising.

8:44 - Take a drink, she's used the word brainwashed! Hint: Children are not being brainwashed any more than this woman was brainwashed by HER OWN upbringing!

9:08 - Is. Is she suggesting that "Karen" culture is people... supporting Karens? Because genuinely, I have had to repeatedly remind my friends that politely requesting their food not be literally deadly for them to eat is not being a "Karen." Like, "Karen" culture is so blatantly negative and a Bad Thing that people are attributing completely normal behaviors to being a Kar- ooooh that's what this woman is doing. Oh. Oooooh. Yeah you're an asshole.

9:23 - Shocker of all shockers, when a student has a mental breakdown, an administrator, counselor, or parent, might want to know... y'know... what triggers them. That's why they're asking what you did. They're trying to get to the bottom of what caused the meltdown, and 9/10 times, it's caused by a figure in authority doing something that made them uncomfortable. Grow up and admit you make mistakes.

9:32 - THAT'S BECAUSE THEY ARE JUSTIFIED! The feelings they had are OKAY TO FEEL! Their feelings ARE VALID. The BEHAVIOR is not. WHICH IS WHY WE ARE TRYING TO PREVENT THE BEHAVIOR. (And the feelings, because genuinely, discomfort does not aid learning and actively negatively impacts it! So we want to prevent discomfort!!)

9:40 - Just realized this section is called "entitlement." =_= Gag me.

9:53 - Once again: not random. These random systems are not random -- they're well researched. For those curious, the "horrible" ideas she mentions here, like not saying no to kids, are also research based, and yes, they do work. It contributes to a growth mindset, where students don't feel like they're forever trapped in who they are in the moment.

10:10 - ... Should. Should the responsibility NOT be on the teachers? Like. You are in charge of (if you're like me) 140 students in a single day, each day, every day. YEAH I HOPE YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THEM. It is YOUR responsibility to take care of them. Again, please, reread your job description.

10:35 - She brushes up on actually good topics here - administrators struggling under state standards, the fact that testing drowns out the relationship building and negatively impacts learning, etc - but she's using these points to somehow argue that... it's the kid's fault? I'm so tired of this woman. The system is broken, and that is a problem, but that will never and has never been the fault of children. And yes, that IS why teachers are quitting in droves -- because the system is fucking broken and awful and I swear it is legitimately bringing me to an early grave. Still not the fault of the kids tho.

11:11 - The kids can't do this, actually. Have you tried? Cause I have. I'm an English teacher, and yes, I start off the school year each year with students writing out the rules and expectations before I teach them. I tell the kids to write down "what do you think the expectations of classrooms are?" And genuinely, only the "well behaved" kids SOMETIMES get it. (Actually, a lot of the underprivileged quiet kids hit the nail on the head with my rules, but that's a story for another time and not a 7 page essay already). THEY DO NOT KNOW THESE EXPECTATIONS UNTIL YOU EXPLICITLY TEACH THEM, and even then, you need to remind them, because they need to ACCESS those expectations! GOD I am tired of this woman.

11:37: WHAT'S THIS? The. There's a lack of correlation? Between behaviors and the natural consequences of their actions? It's almost like, when done properly, PBIS helps to build those correlations! But no, go ahead, rant about how you want kids cleaning toilet bowls because they said something disrespectful to you in class.

12:18 - Do I even need to say it?? Remarkably, shame is not a motivator. It has been shown that shaming kids actively hurts their learning, mental health, and achievement in all areas. But she doesn't care, because all she cares about is having an easy time. Teaching isn't easy. Boot up, bitch.

12:53 - Here's an example of a model that I think needs reworking. "I'm not mad, and you're not in trouble" isn't a bad first step... but "I am angry, I won't lie, and I need a second to calm down my anger. I'm going to breathe, and then we'll discuss why this happened, and how we can prevent it in the future" has always worked a lot better for me. I do agree with her that this isn't the best, but she needs to understand that when the rules are bad, you break them as a teacher. Straight up. That's what I do. They wanna fire me for being not a child abuser, thank god, I wouldn't wanna work there anyways. (And guess what? Since the kids like how I speak to them and how I communicate my emotions, they behave better in class, which leads to extended learning time, which leads to improved scores, which leads to me already being marked distinguished repeatedly on observations because, surprise surprise, I'm a good teacher cause I break the rules. Go figure!)

13:19 - YOU NEED TO TEACH THEM HOW TO REASON. You can't have an intellectual conversation at the level of adults with a student at that age! You need to break down their feelings and thoughts! Jesus CHRIST DID YOU TAKE DEVELOPMENTAL PSYCH? This isn't an "unpopular opinion," it's straight up misinformation.

13:46 - Aww, am I a mama bear now? But no, thinking about the worst situation I've seen in a classroom, I think back to the worst school I've subbed at. The reason it was the worst situation? The teacher was strict as hell with her kids, and I was a substitute. They took one look at me and said "I GET A FREE PASS TODAY!!" (Note: that's the first time I ever had to fill out a physical injury statement at work, because that's the day a child physically attacked me for asking her to put away her phone!). And still I do not blame her, because I feel it was those in authority that failed that day.

14:03 - Now she's bringing up Catholic school. No, sweetie, I wasn't imagining that. I was imagining my abusive family. Cause that's what you sound like. You sound like the parents who wanted to be in control of every aspect of my life in order to "protect me" and "help me understand real life so I could have a good future." Gag me. Shut up, already.

14:17 - I really do think what we have now is still broken; but anyone within their right mind can acknowledge that we have a better system now than we used to.

14:33 - "That's how it feels being a teacher in a classroom of hostile little people." No. It's not. It might have felt that way to you, but that's because you made them hostile. You were the subject of their hatred. For me, when my students get hostile (and yes, it does happen), it's because they're frustrated by what they have to do. And 9 times out of 10, that frustration is fucking JUSTIFIED! And that's when I step in, and tell them, "I think it's bullshit too. I think you're right to be frustrated. But because the system sucks, we have to do this for the time being, and if you do this, I can do these things for you to help alleviate that frustration." A lot of the times, it's promises for a better future (which I have already made progress on, such as changing how the 6th grade curriculum was this year and moving a novel they hated to the 7th grade year instead, where they will be able to process it better with more experienced teachers who had a curriculum prepared already for said novel.) If a student is hostile with you, that's not a bad thing, and the fact that you felt fear shows you earned that hostility via your actions.

14:47 - Again, you're a bad teacher if you don't know how to handle a situation where a student gets hostile.

14:58 - Teachers see their students more than their parents do, full stop. Students are with you, for instance in my school, from 7:50 until 3:30, and that's barring you having a club after school. That's 7 hours and 40 minutes. Barring any after school activities, assuming a child wakes up at 6 to make it to school on time, to achieve 8 hours of sleep, that child is with their parents from 3:30 until 10. That's 6 and a half hours. No matter what, you are with those students more than those parents are. Yes. It IS our job to raise these kids. Furthermore, you're assuming the parents DO have the capability and tools to raise these kids. Many parents work after school, many parents have multiple kids they're raising, and surprise! Some parents are fucking abusive! REREAD THE FUCKING JOB DESCRIPTION!

15:15 - I'm not a parent myself (and never plan to be) but seriously, is there some sort of parent handbook she knows about that I don't? Is there really something out there that spells out "all the things your parents should've taught you"? If there is, can someone send it to me, cause mine certainly failed in a few aspects.

15:29 - A student thinks misbehaving is fun. Why? If they think it's fun, then there's clearly a disconnect there between what they should be doing and what they are doing, and it's up to you to help them reason. If that goes against your rules, then either they need to understand why the rule is in place, or the rule needs changed.

15:48 - 'Waaaa the 5 year old gets more chances than I, a grown ass woman, get!!! That's so unfair!!!!' GROW UUUUUP

16:19 - False. Yes, this is a thing - exceeding, meeting, approaching is the latest rubric scale being sent out. But grades are still a fucking thing. I think what she's likely getting salty about here is actually floor grades -- wherein students, in many more locations around America right now, cannot get below a certain grade. For instance, at my school, if a student just straight up never does the assignment, they get a 50% (Rather than a 0). This is research based and has improved both the student's AND my mental health so fucking much that I refuse to listen to any argument that this is bad.

16:40 - I would LOVE sources on this. A school that does away with grades entirely? SIGN ME UP! Oh wait, did you mean "I no longer can use grades as a punishment for my students, because America is making a big push to be standards based, and therefore all of my grades have to follow the set curriculum standard?" Bite me.

17:04 - Yep! Straight up, yeah. Even when I was in school, they were trying to do away with "holding kids back" a grade. They offered remedial courses instead. Ever heard of summer school, woman? The only time students were held back a grade in my school was when they were in 12th grade and did not have enough credits to graduate (at which point, they just... sorta dropped out.) That's why I was teaching 9th grade English to 10th grade students. Because they didn't get held back 'a grade' -- they got held back a class. And that's not a bad thing, why would it ever be a bad thing, you stinky wet noodle?

17:11 - Skill issue. Next!

17:28 - Ooo I hope you read mine next, you fucknugget! While you were busy studying posts from child abusers, I was busy looking at the research and being the best teacher I could be for these kids.

17:42 - 8 years? God, you were a teacher for 8 years. I feel sorry for the poor children you abused in that time.

17:50 - Why were you always in fear as a teacher? I've never been in fear for my job. I have never felt in fear for what I've done as a teacher. I've had administration come to me to speak with me directly over actions I've taken, and not once have I felt in fear. I have been accused of "crazy" things, and I laughed and explained what actually happened, and the students in those situations went "Oooooh I misinterpreted." And it was explained, and I changed my behavior and they changed theirs (in some cases). Wow! All of it worked out and I am still marked as Distinguished.

17:59 - DISCIPLINE ACTUALLY EQUALS LOVE??? Woman please see a therapist, please for the love of god, I think you have some really fucked up ideals that you need to talk through with a professional.

18:33 - Why does she assume that her students would live like this in their futures? Most of my students (I teach 6th grade currently) already have big goals for their futures. Yes, the majority want to be YouTubers, but just speaking with them, they understand the work that goes into that -- they talk to me about editing, they talk about making their own VTuber rigs on Blender -- they're super advanced! The kids who want to be game designers use their free time in class to program games on GimKit. Kids, when their love of learning is fostered rather than beaten out of them, will be productive because they love to be, not because they're forced to be.

18:47 - They are CHILDREEEEEEEEEEEEN

19:14 - POJKIHGUYFVBHKM??? "People are basically motivated by two things in life: love, and fear." Therapist. Please. I am not even trying to use that as an insult, I am being legitimate. Is that all you are motivated by? When I do the dishes, I'm not doing them because I love them or because I'm scared of them -- I do them because they need to be done! It's neutral! Motivation is neutral what are you smoking oh my god.

19:35 - If this was the fullest extent of what people were saying, then yes, she would be right -- If all you are trying to do is get kids to love you and your subject, then you will always, always fail. But the thing is, that's NOT the key to PBIS, and that's not what I do with my kids. The very first thing I do with my kids, when they come to class, is set up rules and expectations. And I tell them: If you hate English, good. If you love English, good. Regardless of if you hate it or love it, it holds these specific values in your life. I ask them what they want to do or be, and explain how they'll need to use the skills taught in my class for those specific things. I explain how they don't need to be GOOD at it -- they just need to try. And then I reflect that in my teaching and my grading. If they try, they pass, and they typically pass well (well being A-B range). If they earn a C, it's typically because, frankly, they're bad at English. And I make them understand, I FORCE them to understand, and I DO yell at their parents, that Cs are the Average Grade. They mean you are Perfectly On Point for 6th grade, and you are right where you need to be. And remarkably? The kids love me for it. If you treat the kid like a kid who is a living breathing human, you have almost no problems. I wonder where this woman went wrong.

20:22 - Students should not fear learning. Students should not fear making mistakes. She is making the assumption that every single misbehavior is a personal choice on the part of the student, when usually, that's not the case. Please, please, read up on frontal lobe development, I think it would really benefit your understanding of a small child's decision making abilities.

20:40 - False, but at this point, everything you're saying is just to paint yourself as a Goddess Martyr of Every Hurt Child Abuser Teacher Out There UwU. Thank god this video is nearly done.

20:46 - Causal Pink-Collaring of teaching, love that (sarcasm).

20:56 - I love my job. Again, sounds like a skill issue!

21:21 - Honey all you did in this video was advocate for abuse...

21:43 - For once, I agree with you! The vast majority of teachers are not absolutely bat shit. All teachers are actually just people, and some have issues that makes it so they shouldn't be teachers. You fall into the latter category of 'People who should not be teachers because they hate children.'

22:00 - The only difference you're making here is burning away my braincells.

Oof. The rest is the Click Subscribe ramble.

TL;DR: FUCK THIS WOMAN AND HER ENTIRE PRACTICE!!! I am SO RELIEVED she quit teaching!!!

[rezcowgirl]

Images from The Vault. Considered and described by me, 20 years later.

Selected things I thought were worthwhile and important to share on my LiveJournal as a 13-18-year-old (2003-2008).

Terrible. Fascinating. I hate her. I love her.

Pupe Girl screenshots with their titles because I thought they were funny. Pupe Girl completely consumed my life. I never got into Gaia Online like a lot of my friends did, but jfc Pupe was everything and I HAD to have that stupid pixel Lacoste alligator bag. I eventually got it. That was a good day. I insisted on entering the contests naked. I never won. No emojis, just >U and :U (2007)

A bandaid I took the time to scan and share? (circa 2005)

Fanart of 15 year old me!! From online and IRL friends. I had pink hair and it was my whole personality. (2005-2007)

My School Is Crap phone background from a time when you had to pay to download any new backgrounds. (2007)

A picture of two of the most important things in my life: LiveJournal and Pikachu. I designed and coded that layout and was really proud. Remember when putting "don't steal my codes" was a thing you did in your bio? (March 7, 2005)

Hanging out in the basement of the Regina Gay Bar for Gay Youth Group, eating candy, talking shit. Look.at.my.phone. on the right. Flawless. (January 4, 2005)

My favourite book and manga at 15. I've been meaning to re-read Kazuya Minekura's works again. I ended up sending 2 copies of Good Omens to 2 of my LiveJournal friends to make them read it. I wish I still had my first Good Omens. Love how I'm still weird about it 20 years later. (circa 2005)

Listen. Being 13 and gay was gnarly. (I ID'd as a lesbian back then) Being a little queer going to Catholic school, I was completely obsessed with t.A.T.u.. I knew all their songs in English and Russian. Even Lena's version of Yugoslavia. Taken with my first cell phone ever. (circa 2005)

Self portrait lmao. Pokemon. Pokemon everything. Forever. (2005)

Making Indigenous themed gingerbread with a semi-famous ndn chef and I HAD to weeb it up. (December 2006)

My sacred Mashimaro socks that @ayecaptain stole from me. It became a thing to say: "give me back my mashimaro socks bitch" for years. They eventually gave them back when the elastics were all worn out. (2006)

It's so strange and bittersweet to see screenshots of bizarre and highly-specific inside jokes from my online friends that I can't even remember the names of. I remember what your friendship felt like, and that's what matters I think.

fuck my stupid baka life

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

Roarke’s mom Moria was bannished for getting pregnant with him at 16. she was given the opportunity to put him up for adoption but didn’t want to.

while his Moria kept him she was a horrible mom, constantly on drugs and having men over.

when he was 3 she was with a man who had a 6 year old daughter named Delaney. the man got Moria pregnant and left leaving Delaney behind as well. she got pregnant two more times with Slone and the twins Fiadh (Fia) and Saoirse (seer-sha).

he and Delaney grew up abused in every way and Moria knew and didn’t care. they did their to protect and raise their siblings but because they where kids themselves they couldn’t do everything. Roarke was constantly angry, and would have outbursts at school or at the men his mom would have over,

he had always found Ogres fascinating when he was 13 he created a gang that was just him Ursa and their siblings, called the foundlings which is what Orges call their adoptive children. they wore animal

masks and would steal food from stalls at the market.

When Delaney was 17 she ran off with her adult boyfriend and Roarke just got angrier.

at 14 he had to make a deal with the Neverseen to get food for his siblings, he ended up unknowingly spreading the plauge. when the cure was made he and his siblings became known as plague spreaders, because there was a whole group of people that had done that.

he was 15 when the banished kids where finally allowed to to the new and improved Exilium he immediately became the kid who started fights and would attack the teachers. but he became the protector of the weaker kids and the foundlings started to grow

when Finn (12) was assaulted it was the one thing Roarke (15) wanted to protect him from. Roarke took Ursa (16) with him to track down the man who did it, and it wasn’t hard.

Roarke made him pay for what he did to Finn and they where lucky Ursa was a conjurer because it made getting rid of the body easier.

after that Roarke realized that it was safer for his siblings be anywhere but with Moria so he took them all and went to go live in a abandoned warehouse they were 5, 5, 9, 12, 15. less than a year later Ursa and Ophelia came to live with them because their mom sent them.

they live right outside of a ogre village called Kelv that is unconnected to ravagog because everyone one else hates them for spreading the plague.

he manifests as a Froster at 16 and has horrible control over it. Bora leaves him in the desert as punishment one day and because he’s a froster he gets heat stroke, and is taken back to their hideout. the Orges contact Livvy to help save him and while none of the Foundlings trust her at first she becomes one of the only adults that they actually trust.

Roarke backstory *jazz hands*

Oh damn that's... intense as hell.

This kid needs therapy. Badly. They're literally the perfect targets for the Neverseen I'm thinking bc they've been hurt by the world in like. Every way and basically no one in this supposedly 'perfect' society helped them? Damn.

At least they've got Livvy? One adult is better than no one lol.

The more you tell me the more I want to steal Bora's kneecaps what an awful person jfc

Did they ever meet Tam and Linh? That would've been an interesting conversation...

[kaoarika]

Dang.

Do I want to really have a long conversation to the people in charge of several design oversights on Windows 11's UI/UX. Like. For reals.

Too tired of this "user friendly" mentality that is extremely too friendly (or perhaps only thought for those that use smartphones and/or tablets) and hide the usual things behind more hiding options and/or worse.

I dunno how casual have gone through all these things with W11, and me, that I have had big issues in the past with my computers, I have been quite wary about it as a whole. I did disabled a few things that were recommended (like blocking Copilot, and sighing on relief it looks my laptop is not able to go through Recall?), and I have been turning off options that I feel are unnecessary (and real dumb) for my experience... but even so.

I hate that, for much long I used Windows 7 (and including my honeymoon time with Windows XP all the way through 2004 to 2010), my few years using Windows 8 (with that godawful Start menu screen)... and the early version I had of Windows 10 (that also had blocked the updates...), and the more I get used to Windows 11, I like some things... but also hate others... especially the very small that I feel I shouldn't worry much...? but MAN, do they bother me :)

Like, just earlier I had this one thing about the icon of a odt (the LibreOffice extension for their equivalent of Word) not appearing as such in the start menu, BUT a very generic icon of programs that cannot be identified... and the more I tried to save on it, I didn't changed shit :)))... so, I moved the contents of it, I renamed the file and VOILA, like new... JFC. But then, I ask myself... why do the start menu even HAS this option of "recommending me files I just saved or opened, regardless"? And so, and so.

Part of me wishes that I shouldn't be complaining like this, you know? Like... I have been a Windows PC user for a great majority of my life, my first computer had Windows 95 and had to go through hell with W2000, because it had an adware issue at some point in 2001~. I tried to use Macs because College, and part of the jobs I did, had them, but I never seem to find myself into them (and ppl of my own major being VERY snobs about them was certainly what ended up bittering my opinion about Apple in general... not to mention my previous experience with my iPod and iTunes which was annoying to say the least :), it would be interesting? to have a macbook, or smth... but MAN... I'm not so ready to move myself and my things there, I FEEL). And so, I even wish I had the patience and be much more tech savvy to say "yes, let's test Linux to avoid stuff like... this"

Of course, I always go back to "you are only looking for the minimal things because you had issues with all your PC/laptops since 2011" and, yeah. I feel so unconfident about my computers, ever since. And the last one time I SWEAR I was happy on "hey, I bought this preowned and it works wonders (although I had to be like 3 hours waiting for it to have all the updates because it was resetted to factory, I think?)" and then it blocked me off because it had an issue with its battery/charging plug???. And almost a year later, I had a disk error.

I had the decision of not testing this new laptop back in May? June? up until... two month ago, and, even so? afaik, it is working all well. And, compared to the other ones, this is the one "new" computer I have had since 2011. But, the worrywart brainworms get through me. And looking for things that I am cautiously pessimistic? about, that are too unknown to me (precisely because MS decided to hide EVERY single useful thing over more Settings options and making Control Panel? quite redundant at this point), brings me to read about other several issues that other ppl are going through, regardless if they mod their computers or what, within W11, which, obvs, it all sucks.

I feel like I have been knocking wood wishing that my laptop isn't going to break or else, because... man. At that point I will know I'm so cursed.

*Insert here my worriness about using my drawing program of choice and CSP, and still not feeling brave in connecting the Wacom Intuos I have :'D, I feel I need to ask to more savvy people about this, more artist inclined, that do not have too much bias about Wacom and perhaps are also always battling about stuff within Windows 11 :(*

[vampyc-spam]

complaining ++ trying to explain how we work lol . sort of went off on a tangent

we are in desperate need of a host/outernaut jfc . it's just so hard to make one that feels Right™ , everyone mischa has made to fill the role has actually been meant for smth else 😭

atp i think it's destabilizing the way the did system functions , bc for like a year we didn't have an endogen collective existing alongside our did system whereas we had consistently before ( even tho we didn't rly know it at the time ) and in that timespan the host hasn't left front . which is extremely unusual for us . and is why said host determined " okay i think we had this going on , and stopping made our brain feel funny , so im going to create smth similar " .

also !! second thing !! identity is so confusing when you're one system but sometimes two systems and they're entirely different but also occasionally intermingle . like . what the fuck .

so , we think our brain is compatible with plurality because we formed did at a young age ( yk . trauma and whatnot ) . this is obv not every plural's reason , but it's ours . so we had that did system , and at some point we also started gaining spontaneous headmates . these are different for us ; for example , spontaneous / created headmates can be destroyed ( which is what happened a year ago , i think unintentionally ) , whereas trauma parts can only fuse / split . the did system also ( almost ) never has access to the innerworld .

we sort of think of it as like … having a mostly frontstuck core , ig ? but that core is an entire did system . like a sidesystem or later , but more separate . communication is also a lot harder for the did system , but they do have significantly more access to traumatic memories ( outside of the host ) , and bc of that our goal is to make it to where they aren't mostly " frontstuck " ( ie. , at least one member always fronting ) and instead only front when we're working through trauma .

ideally , it'd be nice to fuse them into just a few parts , that way the whole thing can run smoother and isn't muddled by having two entirely separate large systems and is more " this specific layer is traumagenic , and the rest of us are spontaneous / created " . atp they probably wouldn't be disordered ( bc this is a far - out recovery goal ) , so they'd likely be able to integrate into the collective better … ? idk , im not a psych :)

[stitching-in-time]

Voyager rewatch s1 ep4: Phage

The episode that introduces the Vidians, it's also the first one I don't like.

The whole concept of an entire species stealing organs from other species to survive for 2000 years is kind of preposterous, aside from being, well, icky. It doesn't make sense that they would last long enough to keep reproducing enough to replenish their population if they all had this agressive fatal disease, and moreover, the notion that most of them would even choose to survive that way doesn't seem likely. Any decent people would not chose to survive by killing other people, and an entire species just being horrible unethical people is a pretty racist notion that goes against the spirit of Star Trek in my opinion. If they'd made clear that the two Vidians we meet in this episode are rogues who are taking a desperate course that their society doesn't condone, that would be one thing, but that wasn't implied here, and in later episodes it's confirmed that most Vidians do it as standard procedure. I suppose it's a problem in general with most Star Trek (and other scif-fi shows) species that they're often painted in broad strokes of 'all of x species on this entire planet have the same culture and temprament and behave in x way', which, as we know from the diversity of cultures, values, and opinions on our own planet, is incredibly unlikely, if not impossible. But at least with most other aliens who are villains, it's made clear that the villainy comes from the ideology of the government in power, and not an inherent trait of the entire species being naturally evil. I think the Vidians are the first time on Trek we ever had a whole species painted as inherently immoral, which is, now that I really think about it, why I actually dislike them so much. (And yes, we do meet a nice Vidian in a later episode, but I think it sets it up more as an exception to the rule, which reeks of 'but you're not like other people of your race/gender/religion' that bigots throw around to justify their bigotry even when they have a friend from the group they hate.) And how these two Vidians are portrayed as having rather creepy/icky/slimy voices and mannerisms also plays into ableist notions that people who are physically ill are somehow monstrous, or even, as old medieval superstitious notions would have it, that physical illness and moral decay somehow go hand in hand, or that one is the cause, or punishment, for the other. The Vidians as villains are just a bad, bad concept, which I never liked, and I've finally figured out why at last.

Other things I didn't like were Neelix's possiveness of Kes- he literally sees her being spoken to by another man, and he's off on a crazy diatribe accusing her of leaving him for someone else. Granted, he's going through a traumatic experience at the time, which can make people paranoid and lead them to say things they don't mean when they're upset, but he doesn't apologize afterward (even after she literally saves his life, jfc!) and he does it again in later episodes, so it's a character trait rather than an aberation. Ew.

I do like that Kes got to start studying to be a medic after this episode, since she deserves some more substantial stuff to do than having vague psychic sense of strange things going on (even Deanna Troi had an actual job as an actual psychologist, though they ignored it far too often on TNG.) And it's only fair the Doctor finally recognize her abilities and efforts after she spends most of her time on the show so far being his cheerleader and teacher. I used to like Kes and the Doctor's friendship in the beginning (why I stopped is a subject for future episode reviews) but looking at it now, even at this early stage, there's something kind of gender stereotyped about their relationship. The whole trope of him being the bitter middle aged man who just needed a sweet young blonde girl to see the good in him and love and encourage him to see it for himself. And he's not even an actual person yet, he's a computer program, and sees himself as such at this point, but she spends most of her screen time emotionally caretaking for either him or Neelix, both of whom tend to dismiss her, but she loves them anyway, wholeheartedly. It's just a little...yikes. Remembering the plot lines of some future episodes featuring them has me trepidatious, to say the least, but I'm gonna try not to think that far ahead. (Tbh Tom Paris was the only person who checked in on Kes to ask if she was okay this whole time; Neelix prob sweating bullets out there knowing he looks like an asshole next to Tom lol And he is. Like, even if Tom was being nice to her because he was into her, which I don't think he was, given how ready he always is to go out of his way to help people, showing concern and support is literally the right way to pursue someone??? Bad boy seducer Tom where???)

Tl;dr: not a fan of this one, sets up some ongoing stuff I very much do not like, on multiple fronts.

[getoutofmytown]

happy birthday get out of my town

i love you and you are a thorn in my side i love to roll on and dig in deeper

thank YOU, EVERYONE!! for clicking and reading even one line; your support and your involvement and interest has been a source of priceless joy and encouragement

harry and james would not be in the shitstorm that they’re in without you, konami; thank you for them but they’re mine now, i’m treating them better than you could ever hope to

and of many humbled thanks to my incredible friend Ren who has been editing since ch10. (with currently at ch58, one might understand the gravity, and all it took was one simple offer from her to me............) i love you Ren; you have been an enormous influence on my writing skill and my storytelling. i think sometimes we could stab each other through the google doc, and yet you’re still here for the next one. you have been so supportive and endured so much. i adore you, but i also can’t find it in my heart to be sorry that i’ve got ch59 almost ready to go.

don’t touch that dial now, we’re just getting started..