#when life comes is fine it just cant compare to existence

[robotsafari]

its millia monday people!!

stream writhe in pain! stream still in the dark!! stream existence!!!! stream the irony of chaste!! stream lily of steel! stream love the subhuman self!

[corvidares]

okay, so i just finished re-reading Any Way the Wind Blows and this feels so blatant as to be smacking me in the face: simon is disabled.

now, the reason why that makes itself even clearer in this book than in wayward son (where he, of course, also has the wings + tail) is because simon is once again in the world of mages - despite doing his best to leave it behind. compared to wayward son, where hes basically and literally in the wild west. where theres magical beings everywhere, where simon practically fits in because he is one.

but ill get back to that.

ive seen a lot of really interesting points about what simon's wings represent and mean, and i'm not disagreeing with those. but in a very literal sense, they are a disability.

think about it like this: the world of mages (and Normals) is not built for humanoids who have giant webbed wings and a tail. simon constantly struggles with controlling these limbs, and their size makes it ten times harder. spaces are too small, furniture and objects are broken when he spreads them, and many a shirt or jacket are ruined.

he struggles to find a good way to deal with this - spell them away? wear them out by cutting holes in things? fold them extremely painfully into his shirt? even though this last one is treated like a solution for a little while, its far from ideal. who is simon doing this for? himself, or everyone around him? yes, of course Normals cant see them. and yeah, hes expressed discomfort about baz and penny spelling them hidden. but thats not the point. even with this botch job of a way to "wear" his wings, which succeeds at hiding them from Normals, simon still states a couple times that he knows people stare at him and his seeming hunchback. i mean, thats blatant.

(he eventually, with shepard's help, realizes a good way to work around this - zippers or buckles on shirtbacks - which very much feels like an aha! disability aid moment)

im not saying disability is based in how people look at you, or it only being a societal thing. (as in, when he wasnt in the world of mages, he wasnt suddenly 'not disabled at all') disability is a huge spectrum. but those things absolutely can be a part of the disabled experience.

but all of that doesnt even get to my main point: simon has no magic anymore. and in the world of mages, thats a huge deal. magic is like living and breathing, especially for baz and penny. its not something they question or have to worry about not being able to call upon. hell, even before simon lost his magic he was disabled, just to a different extent.

before awtwb, we dont hear much about mages whose magic is weak. but they come to the forefront now - which just solidifies that solid magical ability = able bodiedness.

smith is promising a miracle cure. a cure. think of it like bullshit orgs such as aut!sm spe@ks, wanting to "cure" autism - he wants to cure people. (and hes just as full of shit) why? because weak magic is seen as a disease, a problem, even subhuman.

take daphne, baz's stepmom. her quality of life is fine, great. her weaker magic doesnt seem to put her at a disadvantage. she manages her disability well. but in comparison to the norm, to what is expected of the average mage, shes got nothing. less than nothing. she feels shame over what she cant do.

smith's case becomes even more blatant when we see, at the end of awtwb, that he wants to essentially cull weak magicians. that they're holding back society. that theyre better off as powerless as Normals - who are blatantly seen as subhuman - than as weak mages. much like how ableist rhetoric puts forward that disability is a fate worse than death.

which brings us back to simon. he insists hes a Normal, now or always has been. baz insists hes the most powerful magician to exist. both of them are wrong.

and right. and right and wrong.

simon is some third thing - not a mage, not a Normal. akin to how disability is its own minority aside from race or ethnicity he has a foot in each world, and he always has. but now he cant achieve blending into either.

this is why the increasing presence and humanization of other magical beings beside mages is so important (thank you shephard!) how mages tend to seem magical beings is very ableist. theyre subhuman, theyre not to be trusted, theyre freaks, theyre dirty, etc. except oops, how can you keep thinking that penny, when this very nice one works at a cafe and helped you translate shephard's engagement terms?

even baz and the events of wayward son play into this - yeah, some vampires are horrible people. but plenty, like baz, are just people. with a range of experiences and morals and ways of living life. (take nicodemus) (i could make a point about how simon's stalwart acceptance of baz's vampirism helps baz comes to terms with it and how this is also super disability coded, but thats another essay)

in the beginning of awtwb, he decides to go to the extreme opposite of his chosen one powered life - to live as a Normal, and the second step (after cutting himself off from baz and penny) is getting his wings removed.

except he cant do it. and even having his wings touched is horribly uncomfortable. now, this partly has to do with how much theyre sensual parts of his body - same as his tail. but its also, separately, very intimate. theyre treated very clinically, like a fascinating specimen to pore over. im not trying to give niamh shit here, just saying what i saw.

but theyre part of him. people with disabilities often deal with being stared at and poked and prodded by the medical field (if theyre not ignored or waved off. maybe both.). even every day folks feel the right to touch disabled folks, or their mobility aids.

for a lot of people, mobility aids are a part of them - its like a stranger touching your face and thinking theyre doing you a favor. when instead theyre being weird as fuck.

simon's status as previous chosen one even plays into this sort of thing - people see him more as a figurehead, for what he can and cant do (including his wings!) than a person. hes a tragedy, hes a hero. hes inspirational, hes to be pitied. sound familiar?

the end of awtwb doesnt spell out whether simon ends up deciding to keep his wings (frustratingly). but they spell out that he would absolutely would, in my opinion.

simon increasingly treats them as a natural extension of his body. think of the scene where he flies about the watford goats. how he expresses his feelings with his wings and tail. and of course, how he learns to let baz loves each and every part of him: including his dragon limbs.

baz loves him, and loves them, not in a fetishistic way, but because its simon, and he loves everything simon is. not just what he represents or can or cant do.

[hollyhomburg]

personally i think someone accessing namjoons home address and phone number doesn’t compare to a fan joking about giving him a hickey,

also this is not like a dig at you, i just genuinely can’t really understand and maybe you could explain- why are hickey jokes so outrageous but smut headcanons and stuff are fine? (again, purely asking because i cant understand n maybe you have an explanation)

i think the separation is that smut and things in the written sphere are like obviously completely fictional- and thats what makes it okay and different from jokes about namjoon's hickey. purely because the former underminds what namjoon the person wants and the first just talks about namjoon the charecter in an authors eye.

like while there are certainly some y/n reader insert fanfics that lean into the fanservice and delusional aspect of it- i don't think the vast majority of the people who write fanfic legitimately think the events in the story happened in physicality. how many fics have you seen where like yoongi's a tentacle monster and jimin's a hapless victim? like no one thinks that shit is real. just because i write a fic where jungkook has bunny ears doesn't mean he's actually a hybrid or that hybrids exist. People aren't going to confuse reality here.

but when we argue about what the boys actually say and if they're really lying to us- that is involving the real namjoon in a different way than fiction is. it's not fictional and it's not done with his wishes in mind. like i don't understand why people are so committed to not beliving him.

to bring this back to fanfiction, like i don't know if namjoon has a big dick or not, the same way i don't know how big joel in the last of us is- but the nature of fiction is that it is always speculative. if namjoon irl said "i have a big dick" and we said "no i think you have a small dick" that would be INFINITELY more problematic. it's real people vs fictional people. the version of namjoon that i write about doesn't exist, the one people make hickey jokes about does and his privacy is being violated to sate the need to know about his private life.

making jokes about namjoon's hickey is not specultive fiction, it's speculative reality, it's questioning namjoon the person not namjoon the character. and you can't not admit that the joking back and forth creates this dynamic between people who are possessive of them and people who aren't. there is a certain sense of one up man ship where people are like "i'm going to prove it to you that he actually is dating" "finally all the crazy fans can go away now that he's come out with a hickey," "namjoon is getting it all you people can go stfu" (all things ive seen on twitter tbh)

i feel like this dynamic is a result of the misogyny that female fans are treated with- like according to the media we're all stereotyped as teenagers who have crushes on people who will never know we exist. and certain fans have different reactions to it. One is to completely reject the idea of army being possessive over them and hunt down the people who do or in stalkers case- hunting down namjoon to expose his private life, either to sell to the media to prove he is in a relationship. or to sell it to the sassengs who want to confirm or deny the existence and nature of his private time.

there is nothing revolutionary about not believing that namjoon's bruise is a bruise- the only thing that tells me about you is that you don't believe namjoon and have his best interest at heart.

it comes down to what are we willing to do to prove what we believe is real, which is why personally- i think we should only accept info about irl bts's private life from them, and ignore any other 'hints' that we may get until they're confirmed. as far as i'm concerned, i belive bts. they don't want to talk about their relationships? then for all of my concerns i don't care about it. i won't wonder, i won't go looking at jungkook's gym to find out if he ever comes with anyone, i won't go to an art museum in the hopes that namjoon might be there. i certainly wouldn't book a train ticket or purchase information. if they want to shout from the roof tops about how much they love a girl they met in a coffee shop? i will gush with them.

speculation about their private lives and information about their private lives should be given to us fans on their terms and in their timeframe. Not because someone stalks them. it comes down to respecting a boundary.

bts have never set the boundary that they didn't want fanfiction made about them- in the case of hyyh and the bts world game- they outright encouraged fictional fan driven content- even the highlight reels are representative of this- beautiful pictures of fiction that fan creators can take and mold.

on the other hand they've certainly created a boundary about their private lives and what they're willing to share with us. they don't want us to speculate about it because it only causes shit like this.

long rant over; TLDR- fanfiction's are fictional for a reason, saying namjoon is lying is not fiction. believe bts and what they say or don't say about their private lives and move on.

[ooglywooglies]

i have to make a separate post because the tags were getting too long

but yes all my vampire characters are thin, i even struggle to justify to myself xanthes huge bazoongas because in the lore nyesaya cant justify having a lot of fat on their body because of how infrequently they eat. i had to do a bunch of lizard and deer blood math to come up with a somewhat reasonable metabolism to keep them from having to kill too often.

there are not many vampires running around in universe because theyre fairly weak and its 100% legal to kill them basically at any time for any reason by exploiting a revenge law that exists in order to justify another law that allows vampires to kill and eat 1 human every month or so (im stuck between 1 and 3 months because 3 is really stretching that metabolism problem thin but 1 still feels way too frequent for what a law would allow) they can only do it past 10 pm and when they kill someone they have to report it so it can go on a publicly available list so their loved ones can know who did it. you dont have to verify a relationship to a person on this list to kill a vampire, you just have to be able to name someone on the list when you do, probably, i havent really thought of a consequence for not doing that, there probably arent even any consequences.

(wow alex do you have much of a bias here - LOOK IM TRYING TO MAKE IT BALANCED, OF COURSE HUMANS WOULD SYSTEMICALLY OPPRESS VAMPIRES - i always get nervous people are gonna be like hey this feels similar to real life oppression are you trying to say vampires in your universe are analogous to human minorities in real life? and i mean, i get why youd say that, real life human minorities are oppressed because the majority thinks of them as a threat, vampires are oppressed because THEY ARE a threat. i dont think that means im SAYING human minorities are a threat. i just kind of wanted to draw the logical conclusion of what would happen if a sentient creature like this lived in a world like ours. human minorities still exist in my universe and are still oppressed, theyre probably even compared to vampires IN UNIVERSE. and its like, yeah i have sympathy for the vampires a few of them are main characters, i talk about their oppression more than the real life human minority group characters because idk, im a real life human minority myself and i sort of find my own oppression tiresome and uninteresting at this point. at least in the context of my fantasy story. maybe its comforting to me to explore this through the lens of a fictional alien species, my point is please dont take this in bad faith please i promise i think about the implications and i promise thats not where im going with this im just autistic about biology and politics and magical realism.)

anyway in order to not HAVE to eat super often ive been working on developing ways to slow down their metabolism. its not completely perfect and ive had to throw in some "fine whatever its magic" to cover the cracks but i initially based their metabolism on komodo dragons since theyre a similar size. thats where the lizard and deer blood math comes in, deer i think have a similar amount of blood to humans it was like 10 pints or something. this was so long ago ive lost all my sources, and so if a komodo dragon is good off of like an entire deer for like a month, thats where i got that estimate from. so they have some reptile-like traits like, they dont regulate their own body heat, for the most part. they sleep a LOT like 20 hours a day most of the time, they get tired really really easily, and they brumate in the winter

im not sure if brumate is the right word, thats the reptile word for hibernate but theyre not reptiles, theyre not mammals either

they were sort of just sprung into existence by a human hating food chain based goddess so you cant really classify them taxonomically. its one of those situations that sort of frustrates me because yeah magic does exist in this universe and you cant explain everything in a grounded way

sidebar the magic is very magic and not logic but one thing i like about it is its basically an invisible gas (its also a form of life but thats not really important) so the way its "wielded" is you can basically just form a connection between yourself and anyone else via the invisible magic gas thats constantly touching everyone. telepathy is something that happens a lot in universe especially with vampires because its how they conduct their religion and its like certain beings can just beam sounds and images directly into your brain, especially while you sleep via the connection of these magic particles

preddy cool

[sisville-v11]

wanted to let this rent lowering gunshot sit here for a bit before explaining why i think ai generated art kinda rocks.

so like, ive seen so many people try to argue that ai arts gonna replace real human artists, its "coming for their jobs" and like. yall this shit is not replacing human artists anytime soon have you seen the kinda shit generative ai produces LOL. and at this point i think its pretty clear that ai generated art is reaching its quality ceiling soon anyway, ive seen quite the number of articles point out that at this point the amount of resources needed to improve the models further are not only exponentially higher than before, but also pretty much infeasible to accomplish. which is completely fine cause it doesnt need to become more aesthetically coherent at all, i think the tools we have now are already perfect; the ai art able to be made now is already valuable.

heres some random piece of ai art i found off duckduckgo images generated by someone named jazzygirl111.

on first immediate glance, it appears like a pretty cool looking abandoned city landscape painting. if you heavily unfocus your eyes, it actually looks decently normal! then you look closer and realize that like. nothing makes sense here. at all.

the buildings have no form, no defined structure, that tree stump on the right magically turns into illogical buildings itself near its peaks, the foliage covering the ground is purely messy shading without actually being physically identifiable plant life, theres reflections in the water that look so dissonant from the landscape around them that they look like portals into another part of the world entirely. its such a fucked up looking piece of art, blending the reality we know with the uncanniness of something that physically cant exist, i read someone describe ai art as the closest thing he could think of to psychedelic tripping visuals for someone who never took any. its so WRONG looking while clearly trying to be an emulation of a real landscape you might see someone paint and its absolutely FASCINATING to me.

when i see someone say "oh, ai art cant be real art because its not made by a real human", i must be blunt when i say its time for you to stop talking because thats some gatekeeping bs; if it wasnt "real art" then how would it have invoked these feelings within me like human-created art does? how would i have described that landscape ai art as i did? how do you explain the choice of artstyle of compile: main 1, a card game whose art was specifically drawn by humans to evoke the likeness of ai art? if ai art didnt have value, if it wasnt "real art", there sure wouldnt be human artists trying to replicate it for anything.

i think everyones just so caught up on what ai art "could" be, that false belief of future ai art where it looks "better" and "just as good as human made art" that theyre scared to admit that what ai art can look like is kinda baller as fuck, even though it was definitely an unintentional byproduct of companies trying to make it look comparible to human made art LOL

ai art is cool actually most people just dont understand why

[bonny-kookoo]

Sing to me: JJK x Reader 🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Mermaid AU, Siren!Jungkook, Prince!Jungkook, homeless!Reader, Romance,  Smut duh

Wordcount: 5k (medium)

Tags/Warnings: okay so, spoiled kook, possessive kook, Theres literally an attempted murder lol, drowning? whoops, blood oh no, reader is hella fucking dense ok, biting, courting lol, fish boy is in love, whoops, anyways we got sexy times too, because in this AU fishboy got legs n all of that hah, unprotected sex because, guys pls this ain't supposed to he realistic, wrap it before you tap it folks, its also not all that filthy lol, blink and you'll miss the scene, honestly I didn't include much smut because yall nasty so you will ask for dirty drabbles anyways, not that I mind lol, k I'm done I think, wow mom I've sinned less than usual..

Summary: Help me love myself, and I might learn to love you as well.

Or alternatively: you save Jungkook from being killed, and he totally gets the wrong signals. But he's cute, so its fine. Probably.

Jungkook is floating.

He thinks about what lies above the waves, and cant think of anything he really finds interesting. The surface is littered in junk, in things humans leave behind without thinking twice about it. It's air is thick and stuffy, hard to breathe and never clear at all. It's crowded, with creatures who at the end of the day all look the same in his eyes. There's nothing exciting about the world people walk on.

Its boring, and dirty.

His own home is, compared to that, a kingdom radiating like the moon itself. It shines and sparkles, and harbors some of the most beautiful creatures ever to be found. He and his family, as well as everyone else, live in peace with nature down underneath the waves, existing side by side instead of trying to gain the upper hand all the time.

And he's reminded of the cruelty of man, when he finds himself caught in a net.

He's somehow made the fishermen drop it instead of pulling him up on their boat. But that doesn't mean he's free- he's still struggling with it, fighting it, but he cant rip it apart. All he does really, is tie the knots tighter, have them dig into his skin until spots are rubbed raw. He can't really swim anywhere at this point, gives up as he can see the last lights of his distant home fade into the distance.

Jungkook is floating.

He's slowly being led by the waves, by the love of wind and waters, as he closes his eyes. Its a pity, really; for a prince held so high to die by the mere hands of the poor, he thinks. It's upsetting him, very much so, but he takes it as it is. There's nothing he can do anyways, as he slowly comes into contact with the sand below. It washes him up onto short, the dry sand sticking to his body, waves pushing him higher and higher onto the ground.

He shivers, the cold outside air biting at his skin now unsheltered and defenseless.

He doesn't know how long he lays there.

But at some point, steps are heard on the sand. He keeps his eyes closed, doesn't care about what will happen next- he really just wants to have it be over by now, the ropes already painfully burning his skin at certain spots. He's sure theres sand in his wounds as something touches him- warm fingers, hesitant, and almost shy.

He keeps his eyes closed.

"My god, I hate humans.." You mutter under your breath, your voice hitting his ears, making him notice the way it sounds. He thinks it sounds very similar to some of his kind; sirens being blessed with voices sweet and enchanting. Maybe you were one of the strays who had decided to live on the surface for some reason? But your smell was entirely human, although much sweeter and pleasant than anyone he'd met before. And then, after a small short moment of pain-

He's free.

His arms flop to his side, and he breathes in deeply- finally able to fully move again. His eyes open, and adjust to the night for a moment, before they meet yours.

How interesting.

"Jungkook?" Jimin asks him, curious to what has gotten the young Siren so occupied. Typically, Jungkook would be watching the annual kingdom dances with at least some form of interest; even if it was just a glimpse of it, just to make his parents worry less about him misbehaving. But today, as the graceful dancers move around to the orchestra playing, the young prince is absolutely not there. At least not mentally. "Jungkook." The older one scolds, getting Jungkooks attention- his gaze hard and annoyed. "Please, young prince- at least try to pretend you're interested. This is after all part of our culture." He strategically uses his title as teasing- something which makes Jungkook snort without any fun.

"I really don't want to be here." He explains, and Jimin sighs. "I'd rather be at the surface.." He mumbles, being careful not to be too loud- but Jimin does pick it up, and so does his partner, Taehyung, next to him- now leaning a bit forward to hear better.

"Oh?" Jimin asks. "What could be of interest there, I wonder?" He teases, and Jungkook grows even more irritated.

"Nothing that should interest a whore like you." He says harshly, though Jimin knows he means no harm with it. Jimin is, after all, a man who enjoys the simple pleasures in life- which is why he can't quite grasp why Jungkook, a young man in his prime like himself, doesn't seem to care about whats going on around him.

"Hm, but I think she must be absolutely divine if you're willing to risk the wrath of your own mother just to see her." He says, and Taehyung snickers next to him, clearly amused.

But to both of their surprise, Jungkook grows.. calm. Theres even a glimpse of a smile on his lip as he rests his head on his head, elbow on the armrest of his throne. "That she is." He says, quietly, as he watches the young woman in front of him. He has to imagine you there instead, moving oh so gracefully to the sounds of his Kingdom's greatest musicians- dressed in the most beautiful gown he'd gift you. "That she is.." He repeats, a dreaming look on his face that Jimin has not seen before.

Jungkook watches you.

He enjoys watching you on your daily trips to the beach, picking up cans and bottles, and other things people throw away without care. You're cleaning up the beach, and he thinks its a very good behavior- he likes the way you always carefully scan the ground and sides for any garbage. He swims a little closer as he spots you squatting down; eyes lighting up as you pick up a shell he'd personally not care much for. It's slightly pink- but nothing he hasn't seen in his life. They're so common, and he suddenly thinks that if this already makes you happy, what if he was to bring you something else? Something better, something more worth your attention?

He feels a rush of excitement.

Dashing into the opposite direction, he makes his way towards the ground below, eyes scanning the ground as he searches for something. He spots it after a few minutes of searching, but when he holds the pearl, he hesitates.

Its not enough.

No, that's not what you should get. He's only paying back his dept, yeah, that's what he's doing. But what if he was overdoing it by bringing you something too expensive or rare? No, he should be smart about it, yeah. Start small, and work your way up he thinks, as he takes the pearls he's collected while deep in thought, and pushes himself back to the top, swimming easily. He hopes you're still there-

And there you are, dipping your feet into the water.

He looks at what he can see; only able to see clearly underneath the waves rather than above. There's a bracelet hanging around your ankle, and it looks cheap, he thinks. It only helps him by giving him ideas for his next gifts- if you would accept his first, that is. He's never been rejected before, but then again, has always rejected instead. Nothing had interested him to the extend you did. Maybe you really were of his kind, secretly.

When he slowly brings his head up the waves, you don't get scared, or flinch. You simply look, spot him, and smile.

He likes that expression.

He comes closer, free hand helping him onto the stone you sit on, his hand holding your gift eagerly pushing against yours. You understand quickly, and open them, and he smiles. You're smart, he notes, and it only adds to your qualities, he thinks. Dropping the pearls, your eyes sparkle again- as they should, he thinks with pride. You inspect them with big eyes, as if you've never seen something alike. He enjoys your reaction- and you nod at him. "Thank you- are they for me to keep?" You ask, pointing to them, and then at your chest. He's not fully fluent in human language, but has picked up on some words and phrases, since Seokjin had recently strayed- teaching him some stuff whenever he got bored and visited his younger brother.

So Jungkook nods. "You." He says, and you like the sound of his voice; fittingly just as handsome as the rest of him, you think. But then again- his kind is known for its beauty and enchanting voices. "Keep." He tells you, pushing your closed palm a bit closer to your body as if to underline his statement. You think its cute, in a way.

"Okay." You say. "I'll keep them-?" You ask, and he doesn't understand, until you point to yourself, and say a name- yours, he supposes.

"Ah-" He starts, pointing to himself. "Jungkook. Jeon, Jungkook." He tells you, and you nod, smiling.

"It's nice to meet you, Jeon Jungkook." You smile, and he grins back, slightly sharpened canines in stark contrast with his bunny-like smile.

He thinks its nice to meet you too.

"But you're a witch, aren't you?" Jungkook argues, staring at Taehyung. "I thought you were all so capable." He challenges, and Taehyungs eyes darken- quite literally, since sea witches do technically have black eyes- but conceal them, as to not scare off people. He regains his composure however when Jimins hand lays on his shoulder.

"Now now, no need to become huffy." He says. "He didn't say he can't do it- he simply told you that its not that easy." He explains, and Jungkook sighs, rolling his eyes. Ever the spoiled prince, they think to themselves.

"I don't care about that." He states. "Can you do it, or can you not?" He asks, and Taehyung thinks for a moment.

"I.." He begins, before he sighs. "I can. But, there's a catch, Jungkook." He tells him, and this time, the youngest of the group seems just as serious as he listens. "I can't promise that.. the result will be what you will expect." He says.

"What do you mean?" Jungkook asks.

"There's a chance she won't survive it."

He doesn't think much about why you're so often sitting on that rocky structure close to the deep- he likes not having to get out of the water to be close to you. And you think, Jungkook is quite the interesting being.

He’s curious; that much you can tell. His hands rest on your knees, your toes sometimes brushing against his abdomen as he swims closer- face coming forward to properly look at you. His vision must be bad outside of the waters you assume, his brown eyes squinting in concentration until he huffs and let’s himself back into the waters. You chuckle, and simply take off your jacket, slipping into the water as well as you control your breath- his entire face brightening at your body now underwater in his world, finally clear to see for his eyes.

You’re pretty, he thinks, definitely prettier than any other human he’d encountered before. The clothes covering your breasts and private parts a bit dull and boring for his taste- but he’d change that soon. He smiles, happy, before holding up his finger as if to signal for you to wait before he swims away, elegantly and fast. You swim up to breath some air, catch your breath, until there’s a hand around your calf, holding, fingers running over the skin, signaling you to come down again. You follow his question, taking a deep breath to meet him underneath the surface; his excited hands wrapping something around your neck, before he swims in circles as if he’s suddenly got too much energy. You point to yourself, as if to ask if you can keep it- and he nods, wide eyes watching you with a smile that you can’t help but mirror.

You don't quite realize what he's doing.

He however thinks you know. You know that he's courting you, and you're interested in him. You know that he's just given you more than a simple gift. He only believes you're letting him work for it- something he happily does, taking on the challenge as always. He swims closer, holds your shoulders, as his eyes look into yours, his gaze happy and child-like almost. He's close to finally showing you affection- but you suddenly swim to the surface instead.

And even though he knows you only wanted to breathe, he can't help but feel slightly sour at the ruined moment.

"You're awfully happy these days." His mother says, watching her son in the gardens of the palace. "May I ask what has gotten you in such a bright mood?" She asks, and Jungkook doesn't quite know how to break it to her. He knows its not forbidden, knows it has, and does, happen each and every day it seems- but there's still fear inside of him. Theres still hesitation, even though he is not ashamed of what has happened- of what he has done. His mother however notices. "You know you can trust me, right?" She says, and he nods.

Its now or never.

"I've found a mate." He says, and his mother smiles warmly, holding his cheek as she kisses it in congratulation. "Its a human." He says, quietly, hurried- but his mother continues to smile.

"I have suspected as much." She states. "Your friend- Park Jimin- is not very good at talking quietly." She snickers, and Jungkook curses under his breath about how he wants to strangle him. Theres a huge weight lifted off of him however; finally having said it, made it very real to him, in a way- even though it was already.

Because, after all; you were wearing his kingdom's sigil around your neck already. He had claimed you.

He's restless the next time he swims to the shore to meet you again- eager to see you to give you the news of his family's acceptance.

You're late- later than usual, and his brows are furrowed, mood upset at your mannerism. You're usually always on time, always just as eager to see him he thinks- but this time, you're not there. After his anger however, he grows increasingly worried instead. What if something had happened to you instead? Oh what a bad person he would be to be mad at you for getting into an unfortunate situation. As guilt slowly makes his way into his body, claims his muscles, he moves to sit on the stone he usually finds you on. He tries to look around- rain on his skin making it possible to be out way more comfortably.

He spots movement above.

Theres a person he can't make out- throwing something off the cliff down into the sea, and Jungkook clicks his tongue in anger, already upset- but still curious on what it was the person had been so eager to discard. Typically, its tiny things or plastic he finds- but this is something else, he knows.

Underwater, he smells blood.

His pupils contract, eyes widening, as he spots the black bag slowly making its way to the bottom of the sea- red trail leading from it. Its not the blood however that makes him frantic- its the smell of it, of you, that stops his heart.

He gets you out the bag, his anger over the entire situation diminishing into nothing as he holds you close, eyes spotting the deep cut on your side, and the scratches on your face. Unsure where to bring you, he holds you close, brings you onto his back as one of his hands hold yours, your arms around his neck. He swims quickly to the only place he knows you can breathe.

The underwater cave is big enough for now, he thinks, as he brings your body onto the ground, out the water. He doesn't notice he's crying, doesn't quite speak, his native language of clicking sounds and little noises escaping him as he whines out for your attention, waiting for you to wake up somehow. He's been so invested in making you like him and accept him that he's got no idea what to do with a human. Are you cold? How can he warm you up? How does he stop bleeding wounds? How much can you bleed before you die? Are you already dying?

Jungkook doesn't know what to do. So he simply lays by your side, holding you close, in hopes his slightly higher body temperature can keep you warm.

"He's doing the best he can-" Jimin says, Seokjin next to Taehyung as they both lean over your body. Both witches are concentrated, already exhausted, but there's no way they're giving up on you now. Not only because you're important to Jungkook- but because no one deserves to simply die like this.

"I know, I know!" Jungkook huffs out, pupils turned into cat like slits- a clear sign of the absolute terror and chaos inside of him. "What if they're best isn't good enough? Jimin, I can't loose her, you don't understand-" He starts, but Jimin holds the younger one's shoulders, for the first time serious with him.

"I do." He glances at Taehyung. Jimin had saved Taehyung before as well- the young sea witch having been hit by a fisherman's harpoon years ago. Ever since then, Jimin had been attached to the witch like glue. "Trust me, I really do. And they're doing all they can to make sure she's going to be fine." He promises, and Jungkook nods.

All he can do is pray.

When you wake up, there's several things you notice.

First, you're alive. Having a raging headache, and your limbs and muscles feel horribly tender, but you're alive. There's also strings of rope tied to two rock formations acting like a clothing line, several blankets and clothes hanging from it. They don't look human-made to you- the fabrics and designs not something you would think of as regular. There's a bucket and several stained rags- now copper-brown with old blood. Its then that you look down, seeing your cut sewed shut.

You also notice its rather soft underneath you.

Its sheepskin laid over seaweed you notice- the whool soft and fluffy, and warm. Everything seems to be so thoughtfully placed, even some decorative items- you can spot fireflies casually sitting in a jar close by, and burned wood, probably to . Probably to make light during the night. You're tired however, so you simply lay down again. Quite honestly, surely you should fee worried about the situation- but then again, there was no one to miss you, no place you called your home anyways. No use in worrying- because deep down, you had your suspicion.

A Jungkook swims to the surface with the plastic box in his arms, he's careful not to throw it too hard onto the ground. As he steps out the water, he's sure to at least try and his his hands of most the water before he goes to check on the blankets he had brought this early morning. They've dried enough, he notices, and is glad about that, as he picks one up.

You don't have to be cold anymore, he thinks.

He's unnaturally careful for his typical character- his usual behavior quite the opposite as it was now. Now, he's making sure you're properly tucked in, as he notices your eyes watching him.

He freezes, for a moment.

Jungkook hasn't really thought much about what would happen if you were to wake up- after all, Seokjin had told him he was unsure if you were to wake up this early in the first place, and Taehyung didn't even know if you would wake up at all. He'd told his younger brother to be prepared for any reaction really; fear, confusion, maybe even anger. But you seem calm, curious even, and Jungkook decides to sit down in front of your face, waiting.

"You brought me here, right?" You ask, and he nods, eyes not leaving your form.

"You-.. hurt." He points to the spot where your wound had been. "Also hurt." His hand points to your head. "Brothers, helped." He informs you, and you smile, nodding at his words. He suddenly looks at the ground, mumbling. "I.. worried. Thought... you, dying." He tells you, and you sit up slowly again, keeping the blanket around your shoulders.

"I'm not dead though." You say, and he nods. "Thank you, Jungkook. Now we're even." You say, and he tilts his head in confusion- a mannerism you could only think of as cute. "I saved you- you saved me." You say, and he smiles, nodding.

"I-" He starts, leaning forward a bit, now way more energetic and lighthearted as before. "I- we-" He growls a little in frustration, and you cant help but giggle at his troubles- the chirps and clicks escaping him foreign- but somehow, they feel hazy, as if your mind knows the language, but has forgotten what it meant. He's trying so hard you notice, and appreciate. "You like here?" He asks, and points around. You nod, and he beams at you. "I made." He tells you, proudly so.

"I guessed as much. Its very thoughtful of you, thank you." You say, and he nods, happy you like what he did for you. Its not a permanent solution, obviously, but as soon as you're healed well enough, he already planned a new spot for you to come with him.

You just don't know it yet.

There's a weird feeling inside of you.

It's like homesickness, you think. Every time you look at the waters, you feel- sad? It's making you uneasy, and with every day passing by, it just gets worse and worse. But it's today, that you cant take it.

When you dip your legs into the water, it soothes an ache you can't recognize ever having. It helps your skin, it somehow feels as if you're breathing again. But It's not enough, you think- before you let yourself fall into the deep end.

You're floating.

It's like leaving a stuffy and crowded mall, just to stand in a park, fresh air after it had rained, and light breeze clearing your head. Everything is silent, but not at the same time- the water around you feeling as if you're being hugged, held. It makes you relax, makes you let go, makes you only exist for a moment.

You're floating.

And there's a sudden wave of realization that you're also breathing. There's no water in your lungs- or maybe there is, and you just don't feel it being there. Darkness surrounds you as you don't know where you are exactly- theres no telling where is where, no way to know if you're upright or not. Maybe you've died?

Did you drown?

If you did, it would explain Jungkook being there. He's swimming towards you with a face full of worry, as he grabs your wrist and holds you close. "I can't even let you out of my sight for a mere day it seems, my love." He sighs, and your eyes widen. Its almost comedic how his own do the same, focusing on your neck, as he touches.

You're sensitive, and shift away from his touch.

"It-" He starts, now holding your shoulders, as he begins to smile. "It worked! It really did- by the dragon kind, you look absolutely divine!" He laughs, and can't help but hold your hands, eyes roaming your appearance, as you don't quite get it- until you follow his gaze.

Just like him, there's fins now on the sides of your calfs, smaller ones on your ankles as well. Theres also ones decorating your outer forearms- they look like the ones you'd always see on goldfish as a kid. There's something alike to scales as well, but barely noticable. "I- what happened to me?" You ask, and Junkook smiles.

"You.. almost died." He admits, taking your hand and swimming to what you assume is back towards the cave. "You had been robbed during the day, and when I found you.. well, you know what happened." He says. "While you were asleep, we were thinking about what to do. There was no way you would survive as a human- so, a friend of mine- Taehyung- performed a ritual, together with Seokjin, my brother." He says. You finally spot light, glad to be able to have at least some form of orientation. "I'm glad you're adjusting so quickly, my love." He states, smiling at you.

You notice the petname again.

"Jungkook-" You start, as you both reach the cave again, sitting on the edge of where the ground of the cave meets the water. "Why are you.. calling me that?" You ask, and Jungkook seems confused.

"Why do you ask?" He questions. And you don't quite follow, until he continues. "You're my mate- I am only addressing you as such."

Your eyes widen. "Wait- we're-" You start, and its only then that it clicks in Jungkooks head.

"Oh." He says- the dissapointment bitter and evident in his voice. "You.. didn't know?" He asks, and you shake your head, unsure what he means. "I see.." He tells you, suddenly distant. "I.. will bring you breakfast tomorrow.. sleep well." He abruptly says, and before you can say anything, he's already gone.

What just happened?

"There you are!" A voice says, deeper than Jungkooks, but not unfamiliar. Taehyung had been visiting and bringing you food and nescessities ever since that talk with Jungkook. This time, however, Taehyung seems like he wants to say something. You look at him, silently urging him, and he sits down next to you, sighing.

"Does he hate me?" You ask, quietly, and Taehyung looks sad.

"He could never." He says. "He just.. didn't take the rejection well. He'll need time to come around. It won't take that much time- his mother is already trying to get a new partner for him." He explains, and your head whips around towards him. "I- you.. did reject him, right?" He asks, slowly. "You do.. not love him, right?" He urges again, and you groan suddenly, throwing your face into your hands.

"Oh my god I'm so stupid.." You say. "It all.. everything was so overwhelming, I didn't even notice what he was doing." You cry into your hands, as Taehyungs hand places itself onto your back, trying to soothe you. "I though.. especially after I found out about his status.." You mumble. "How could he want me?" You ask, and Taehyung sighs.

"Head up, little siren." He says. "He's still able to hear you sing, if you want to." He says, and you look at him.

"But how?" You say. "I have no idea where the kingdom, or anything really is. And he won't come see me until its too late." You say.

"Well-" Taehyung says, standing up, and holding out his hand. "-allow me to escort the future princess to her lover."

"How did you find me?" He simply asks, not turning around, as you float closer. "I'm sorry, but I still need time to.. get over-" He starts, but you don't let him finish, instead leaning into his back, your arms around his middle.

"I'm stupid." You say. "I'm really, really stupid." He shakes his head, but you continue. "Just because I didn't realize- doesn't mean that I don't feel anything for you." You say. "I just.. felt unworthy, I guess. Insignificant." You admit, and he turns around, holding your face in his hands.

"You really are not gifted with the mind of the dragons king, my love." He states teasingly, the glimmer in his eyes returning. "My status means nothing to me, if that meant I could not have you." He says, and you lean forward, capturing his lips. "I hope you know what this meant, at least." He teases, and your eyes widen, scared you might've done something wrong. "It means you love me." He says, and you chuckle.

"Good." You say. "Because I do."

Even though he thinks you looked like a goddess reborn in your white and pearl decorated gown from the wedding, he enjoys you without it, close to him, just as much. He's alive, he's feeling, he's in love, as his hands move over your skin, his senses filled with you and nothing else.

The sounds you make for him are sweeter than any siren's song he's ever heard or could ever sing himself. No member of his kind is as enchanting as you, he decides, as he bites and kisses the sensitive skin of your neck. Jimin had teased him relentlessly the entire evening and night by trying to send you sweet words, to which you didn't react- but that didn't mean that it didn't piss him off.

You were his.

His princess- and soon to be queen, one day.

And he's planning on making that very evident, as he marks up your skin with little bites, visible for everyone to see. He wants everyone to know, even though by tomorrow, the entire Kingdom will celebrate the marriage of its prince anyways. He's more than ready to show you off, to hold you close, to have people see the divine being at his side that's you.

It's only natural for his hands to roam your skin, for his lips to worhip every inch it seems, as you reach out for his hand every second it leaves you. It's painfully endearing he thinks, how you can be so innocent and pure, while he's between your legs, performing the sinful act of pleasuring you with his mouth.

You pull him towards you, as you straddle his waist, leaning down to kiss him. He's in god's divine lands he thinks, as he suddenly feels you sinking down on his awaiting length. You fit around him perfectly, more so than he could've ever imagined. And as you both move, he holds you close, happy that here, in his world, he doesn't need to breathe.

He can kiss you as long as he wants.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. I spilled strawberry milk on my poor laptop while writing this.

[hxseok-honee]

blossom | part 16

blossom [part 16] || 'Hoseokie'

[‘cause all i need is to see you blossom out, blossom out, blossom out]

previous || masterlist || next

a/n : I cant tell if this is a hobi chapter or a yoongi chapter but i am very in love with them both thats for sure -- lmk what you think!

“Hobi, hi!” Y/n had practically slammed face first into the front door in her rush to answer it, and she’s a little breathless when she finally greets him. She’d honestly been expecting maybe a different, more confident Hoseok than the one she’d become familiar with to be standing there -- after all, he certainly looks the part today. But she’s pleasantly surprised to find that he’s still the same old Hoseok, rocking back and forth on his heels on her porch while he takes in the exterior of her home with bright, wide eyes.

He turns those eyes to her now, his smile boyishly charming as his red ears poke out cutely from beneath his winter hat.

“Y/n! Your house is so cute!” The compliment rolls off his tongue immediately, because frankly it’s all he could think about as he’d walked up the path to her door. It suits her perfectly, this lovely little home on the outskirts of town. He holds up a bag when she thanks him, shaking it lightly while he steps inside, following her into the entryway.

“I know you said no gifts, but I couldn’t show up with nothing!” He sets the bag into her waiting hands, pulling out four flower crowns -- they’re perfect, clearly crafted with care and delicacy that borders on professional. Each one is unique in size and style, somehow a set of matching winter crowns but created with individual intent. She can’t even bother to hide the look of endearment she shoots him.

“Hobi, you really didn’t have to do all of this.” He waves her off while he removes his hat, and she sets the bag down so she can take his coat while he explains.

“It’s nothing, seriously. I didn’t know what I could possibly buy you and your family because I don’t know what they like, so I thought I’d stick to something I know… I tried to make the one for your dad a bit more, uh -- manly? It was hard, though.” He laughs off his slight embarrassment, but Y/n’s mind is stalling on what he’d said. She turns to him with an awkward smile.

“Ah… I thought the big one might have been to fit Yoongi’s massive head… I think it still would fit him, to be honest.” When Hoseok blinks at her in confusion, she only offers an uncomfortable laugh. “My dad’s not around, actually… There’s only three of us.” Hoseok’s eyes go wide, and he finds himself swearing internally. He hadn’t even noticed that she’d never mentioned her dad before.

“Shoot, I’m sorry -- I didn’t even think about it--”

“No, you’re fine! It’s okay, it’s my fault for forgetting to mention it.” When he tries to apologize again, Y/n only sets the larger flower crown on his head to silence him. It hangs low on his forehead, making her smile. “Seriously, Hobi -- you’re sweet for even thinking of all of this.” He opens his mouth, still feeling unsure, but another voice cuts in before he can say anything.

“Yoonie’s here! Oh-- you’re not Yoonie…” Sliding into the doorway with small socked feet is a literal carbon copy of Y/n -- granted, she’s about a head shorter and very clearly a child, but the resemblance is uncanny. Hoseok blinks at the girl, and she only blinks back, hands on her hips in what can be described only as disappointment. Y/n rolls her eyes playfully.

“Hoseok, meet Hana, my 8-year-old sister. Hana, meet the boy that brought you a handmade flower crown -- so be nice.” Immediately, Hana’s arms are dropping in surprise, her eyes wide as she glances at Hoseok’s hands. He smiles kindly, picking out the crown with the smallest circumference and handing it to her. The girl’s eyes almost sparkle with excitement as she moves to take it from him, fingers delicate as she sets it on her hair.

“I had to guess at what size your head would be, but I hope you like it!” Y/n’s sister blinks up at him with an expectant gaze when he’s done talking, clearly waiting for an assessment.

“Do I look nice?” Hoseok warms immediately, finding the girl entirely endearing. He nods, handing Y/n her own crown while he responds. He has to stop himself from doing a double-take when she puts hers on.

So pretty…

“Yay! Thank you for the pretty crown!” Hoseok blinks, realizing he’d definitely just said that out loud. Luckily, the sisters had taken it as a response to Hana’s question, and he feels relief flood his body at the coincidence. He’s so busy thanking whatever higher power had just saved him from that awkward moment that he misses the sound of the front door opening behind him.

“Yoonie!” Coming back to reality, Hoseok barely has time to jump out of the way as the 8-year-old barrels past him, charging with purpose for the person entering the home.

“Monkey!” The voice that hits his ears is familiar, but it’s entirely unlike the person he knows it belongs to. Looking up, Hoseok can only stare lamely as Hana all but flies through the air, caught securely in the arms of one Min Yoongi. The Slytherin laughs loudly at the sudden attack, swinging the girl around in greeting before taking a good look at her.

“Jeez, do you ever stop growing? I’m getting nervous over here, kid.” Yoongi sees Y/n and Hoseok then, and he greets them with nothing more than a nod and a cool grin.

“Happy Christmas, nerds--” Somehow managing to hold onto Hana with one arm, he extends the other out to Y/n, passing her a large bag of gifts. “The one on top’s for you -- don’t even think about it, loser.” Y/n had peered curiously at the topmost gift when he’d said it was hers, eyeing it with excitement. She rolls her eyes now, letting the bag hang at her side as she waves Hoseok into the next room -- a living room, decked out in warm blankets and an even warmer fireplace. There’s a staircase on the far end of the room, the wooden steps uneven from years of use. The home is small but very clearly lived in, and Hoseok’s happy to think that he’s been allowed into Y/n’s childhood home.

There are a few picture frames on the fireplace mantel, and he can’t help but wander over to them while Y/n sets the gifts under the decorated tree in the corner. He looks over the photos with a smile, listening as Yoongi and Hana catch up behind him.

“What’s that on your head, Monkey? I like it.”

“A flower crown from Y/n’s boyfriend! He said it looks pretty on me.” Y/n chokes on her own saliva when she hears those words -- Y/n’s boyfriend -- and Hoseok finds himself overheating just slightly. He swears it’s from the crackling fire in front of him, and he tugs a few times at the front of his dress shirt in discomfort. Y/n glares at Yoongi, who’s barely managing to contain his laughter.

“Hoseok’s not my boyfriend, Hana--” The girl turns, maneuvering her way out of Yoongi’s arms and onto his back while she responds, clearly confused.

“But the last boy you brought home was Stinky Koo, and he was your boyfriend!” Hoseok’s immensely glad that he’s still facing the fireplace, because the name Stinky Koo is much more amusing to him than it should be. He turns to face them only when he’s got his face under control, but he almost cracks when he sees how proud Yoongi looks -- it must have been him that had nicknamed Jungkook for the young girl.

Desperate to change the subject, Hoseok gestures at the photo in the middle of the mantel -- a portrait of the sisters and their mother.

“Your mom’s beautiful, Y/n. Like a queen.” Y/n smiles shyly, Yoongi nodding appreciatively behind her. He's doing just fine, Yoongi thinks to himself, seeing how obviously nervous Hoseok is.

“Well, thank you, young man! Y/n, I like this boy.” The photograph in question is nothing compared to the woman that enters the room, and Hoseok swears the genetics in this house have seriously won the lottery. Y/n’s mother has the kindest eyes he’s ever seen, and he feels like all he wants right now is to see those eyes look at him with approval. It would mean the world, honestly.

She steps toward the group of kids, smiling sweetly at Hoseok before immediately turning to Yoongi with an evil glint in her eye. The boy never stood a chance, only having enough time to inhale sharply before her fingers are coming down on his cheeks, pinching with all her might. Y/n snorts when Yoongi lets out a pained wail.

“Release me, woman!” Hoseok’s shocked at the tone Yoongi takes with her, but Y/n’s beside him in an instant to do damage control.

“My mom’s favorite pastime is antagonizing him -- Yoongi’s been around long enough that formalities just… don’t exist… You get used to it.” Hoseok only nods as he watches her mom start in on the Slytherin.

“Never in my life have I seen a boy with so little meat on his body -- do you even eat, or is the sickly look in style these days?” The woman pinches at Yoongi’s torso for emphasis, and he starts to wriggle away from her, Hana barely managing to hang onto him for dear life.

“This is why I never come here -- the bullying is insufferable!” Yoongi hops around the living room with the 8-year-old glued to him, racing for the doorway into another room when he sees that Y/n’s mom isn’t giving up anytime soon. She almost follows the pair when they disappear, deciding instead to stay in the room with Y/n and Hoseok, an innocent grin on her face.

“You look much healthier than that bag of bones over there--” Hoseok realizes she’s addressing him and smiles, extending a hand to greet her and ignoring Yoongi when he lets out an enraged ‘hey!’ in the other room.

“You have such a lovely home, Ma’am-- Oh! I made you this!” He’d almost forgotten about his gift, but it’s hanging from the wrist he’s using to shake her hand, making him look both awkward and cute as he struggles to hand it to her with some semblance of elegance. “I hope you like it-- I can mend it if it’s too big! But… I left my bag at home, so I’ll have to run to get the scissors and twine-- Oh, it fits!” Y/n’s mom had watched him stumble over his words for a moment before decisively setting the crown on her head with a smile.

“I love it, Hoseok -- thank you.” He blinks, realizing that she knows his name although he had forgotten to introduce himself, and it clicks that Y/n’s talked about him to her mom before. The shy smile on the Gryffindor’s face only confirms his suspicions, filling him with joy. He smiles brightly, following Y/n’s mom when she waves him into the room where Yoongi had gone.

It’s a kitchen, small but comfortable, with a dining table positioned in the middle of the room. When they enter, they find Yoongi bent over the open oven door, lifting a large dish out of it and setting it on top of the stove. Hana’s clung tightly to his back, but the Sytherin moves around the kitchen with ease, dropping the oven mitts on the counter on his way to grab plates from one of the cabinets. It’s obvious not only that he’s very used to having Y/n’s sister stuck to him, but also that he’s comfortable in this home, fully aware of how the house functions.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing? Get out of my kitchen -- you’ll break something!” Y/n’s mom makes a beeline for Yoongi, swatting him away with an oven mitt scooped up from the counter. He complains loudly, grabbing at it and arguing with the woman.

“Will you please just sit down and let me do this?! You’re in my way -- go sit down, Mom!” It looks like a fight -- by all standards, it’s a mother and son arguing and nothing else. But Hoseok looks around the room, taking in the table full of homemade food, the sink full of dishes from the cooking. He sees the light sheen of sweat on the woman’s face, knowing just by looking that she’d been working tirelessly to make Christmas dinner for them. And when he looks to Yoongi, he sees that the boy knows this, too -- that he’s urging her to sit down and relax, that he’s just making it seem like he’s annoyed instead of openly caring for her. That, along with the fact that Hana is very clearly emotionally attached to the Slytherin, makes it obvious to Hoseok that Yoongi belongs here. That this Yoongi belongs here, not the promiscuous one that the entirety of Hogwarts knows. Hogwarts doesn’t know this Yoongi.

“You’re doing that thing again.” Hoseok jumps, realizing when he turns that Y/n’s watching him closely. He smiles, cocking his head to the side in confusion. The chaos of the room never stops, happening in the background while he and Y/n stand in the doorway.

“What thing?” She grins, pointing at his face.

“That observant badger thing. You’re just watching and taking mental notes.” He flushes slightly, not even realizing that he does this often enough to classify it as a ‘thing’. He gestures to her best friend, a question slipping out in the form of an observation, something he’s apparently good at.

“I didn’t realize Yoongi was good with kids.” Y/n snickers, shaking her head.

“He’s not, actually. One time, he tripped over a kid at the store because he hadn’t seen them walking past, and for the rest of the day he kept saying ‘children are the evil groundhogs of the world… waiting to pop their little heads out of the ground and scare you’. It was kinda dramatic.” Hoseok blinks, utterly dumbfounded by that story because it sounds exactly like something Yoongi say, but the Yoongi in the kitchen right now is not showing any of that malice.

“So… then how did this happen?” He gestures to the pair hopping around the dining table, Hana now clinging to Yoongi’s leg while the boy sets out utensils, all the while bickering with her mom. It’s not hard to imagine, seeing how the girl hangs off of him, why Yoongi calls her Monkey.

“Well -- Hana’s 8, which means Yoongi’s been in her life for… almost the entirety of it. And, although I doubt he’d say it, I know he feels some sense of responsibility for her since our dad’s not around. He’s just kind of always looked after her, so she definitely relies on him a lot.” Y/n looks at peace when she says it, and Hoseok gets the feeling that she appreciates Yoongi’s involvement with her family more than she’s letting on.

“They’re pretty cute… It’s nice to see.” Y/n smirks at Hoseok’s final assessment before beckoning him further into the kitchen, commenting in a low voice as she moves to the table.

“Don’t let Yoongi hear you say that -- his ego needs to be kept under control as it is.” Yoongi looks up when he hears his name, lifting an eyebrow but asking no questions as he examines Hoseok and Y/n. Letting it go, he glances down at the child sitting on his foot.

“Let’s wash our hands, Monkey. I dont need your dirty germs getting in my food.” Hana protests loudly but allows Yoongi to haul her off to the bathroom to wash up. He sets his phone on the table when he goes, and Hoseok can only imagine how much trust he has in Y/n to leave her with it -- especially because it keeps buzzing with notifications, and Hoseok can tell even from here that Yoongi has his message previews on.

When they return, Y/n passes the boy his phone, but not before it lights up again in her hand. Without meaning to, she glances down at it, and Hoseok’s not sure what she sees, but it has Yoongi looking at her with wide eyes once he’s gotten a chance to read it, too. He eyes her almost guiltily, but she only smiles knowingly and turns back to the table, taking the seat next to Hoseok.

“Let’s eat!”

--

Dinner passes surprisingly easily for Hoseok -- he’d been nervous all day, changing and re-changing his clothes until finally he’d just given up and left his apartment. But now, sitting here with Y/n and her family, he feels welcomed, included immediately in the chaos of the group dynamic while they eat. Her mother insists on piling his plate high with insanely delicious food, although it’s not nearly as much as she feeds Yoongi, who looks disgruntled at being called a walking skeleton but eats it all with vigor, anyway.

Just as they’re finishing dinner, Hoseok jumping to his feet to help clear the table, Hana rests her elbows on the wood, peering up at him curiously while he moves around the room. He has to purse his lips to stop himself from smiling when he spots her legs swinging back and forth from her chair, not yet able to reach the floor.

“Who’s that other flower crown for? Is it for you? It’s kinda big on you!” His eyes widen just a fraction, and he looks to Y/n for help as he hums. Y/n starts talking at the same time he does.

“Oh, it’s just an extra--

“He just accidentally made it too big--”

“It’s for me!” Yoongi cuts them both off with finality, sticking his hand out almost childishly for the crown hanging low on Hoseok’s head. Hoseok looks at him in shock, forgetting to mask his emotions for the young girl in front of him. But it’s fine because Hana’s only looking at Yoongi, something the Slytherin's clearly aware of when he waves his awaiting hand, dramatically impatient for her sake.

“But then why haven’t you been wearing it the whole time?” The girl’s questions are straight to the point, and Y/n’s mom starts to tell her not to pry, but Yoongi’s always ready for Hana’s inquiries.

“Obviously, Hoseok’s a little shy about giving me a Christmas gift -- he’s been waiting for the right time!” He sounds so sure of himself, like he actually believes it. But as Hoseok’s lifting the crown off of his head and setting it in Yoongi’s hand, he sees the look the boy gives him, and he knows that Yoongi’s aware of the assumption he’d made about Y/n’s father.

And of course Yoongi knows -- he’d made the exact same mistake the first time he’d visited the home at 11 years old, walking in with expensive gifts for both parents because his mom had always stressed that ‘you never go to someone else’s house empty handed’. Hana was much too young then, only a year old, and Yoongi’s not about to let the girl catch on now and risk souring the Christmas spirit. He knows how insecure she gets sometimes about not having a dad, so he saves Hoseok from the moment with practiced ease.

Looking away from the Hufflepuff and turning to Hana while he sets the crown on his head, he points up at it.

“How’s it look, Monkey?” The girl hums, squinting for a moment before nodding.

“It fits! Probably because you have a big head.” Y/n snorts loudly, even Hoseok coughing out a laugh while he sets dishes in the sink. Yoongi only nods, accepting that he’s just been blatantly insulted by an 8-year-old, made worse by Y/n’s mom running her hand over Hana’s hair in amused approval.

“That’s my girl -- you tell the skinny boy how it is.” Yoongi opens his mouth to protest, but the woman’s standing to retrieve something from the fridge, and immediately his complaints are replaced by an excited gasp.

“Is that--”

“Well, someone’s gotta feed you your favorites!” Hoseok only glances over his shoulder while he and Y/n clean up, seeing that the woman’s setting a pumpkin pie on the counter and reaching for a knife to cut it. Another glance tells him that Yoongi’s argumentative nature’s been won over by the dessert, and he’s standing to help her serve 5 plates of it, shy smile peeking through.

“Thanks, Mom…” The woman grins, bumping him with her hip but not saying anything about the embarrassment on his face. She turns, holding two plates and gesturing toward the fridge while she heads for the living room.

“Grab the whipped cream on your way, will you, Hoseokie?” Hoseok almost drops the dirty plate he’s setting in the sink, all the hair on the back of his neck standing on end when he hears the name Y/n’s mom calls him. Y/n notices that he stills suddenly beside her, but before she can mention it, he’s blinking, the moment gone as he moves to the fridge with a smile.

The group migrates to the living room, Y/n’s mom taking the armchair by the tree while Y/n and Hoseok share the couch. Yoongi’s sitting on the floor with his legs crisscrossed, Hana seated comfortably in his lap. The plates of pie sit on the table next to Yoongi’s head, and he keeps glancing anxiously at them, like he’s wondering if he can sneak a bite without anyone noticing. Y/n’s mom’s voice rings out, and he knows he’s been caught.

“Not a chance, Yoongi -- presents first!” Rolling his eyes but nodding anyway, he turns his attention back to the group, where Y/n is passing out presents to everyone. The biggest ones always go to Hana, who seems very excited but is somehow even more enthused about finally giving everyone her own gifts, small trinkets she’d picked out with immense care during her school’s holiday field trip. Y/n has to stop herself from snapping a photo of Yoongi’s face when he unwraps a snake plushie, watching with amusement when he cradles it close to his chest, eyes full of adoration as he mouths "I love her" to the Gryffindor. Hana doesn’t even notice how dramatically sentimental he is, her short attention span having her already turning to Hoseok with a large smile and a small gift.

“This one’s for you, Hoseokie!” Hoseok chokes on his saliva, paling slightly when he hears that name again. Y/n picks up on it for sure this time, but she doesn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt his and Hana’s moment.

Hoseok takes the gift with shaking hands, masking whatever’s running through his mind with a shy smile.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Hana -- thank you!” The girl watches with intense interest while he peels the wrapping paper off, revealing a pink ballpoint pen in the shape of a flower, explaining when he holds it up in the light.

“Y/n told me you liked flowers when I asked! Do you like it?” Hoseok smiles brightly, pressing down on the center of the flower with a quiet click and running the tip of the pen along the knuckle on his thumb to test the ink.

“I love it! I’ll use it every day!” Y/n smiles then, thinking how endearing he’ll look, using a pink ballpoint flower pen in a school that still standardizes quill and ink. But she knows he means it and won’t even think twice about using it. Hana beams up at him, but her eyes become curious almost immediately.

“But -- do you not like the name ‘Hoseokie’? You looked a little sad when I said it…” Y/n cringes, cursing the fact that her sister is both extremely observant and completely lacks a filter. She’s like the perfect mix of Hoseok and Yoongi, something that would be really funny if the situation hadn’t just gotten really uncomfortable.

Hoseok gapes at the girl, letting out a breath of laughter when she only tilts her head to the side curiously. It’s fine that he’d been caught -- it’s just a little embarrassing that it had happened here at Y/n’s family dinner, where he’d been trying to make a good impression and leave only good energy behind. With a slight sigh, he shakes his head to answer Hana’s question.

“I don’t not like ‘Hoseokie’ -- I actually really like it… it’s just--” He glances quickly at Y/n, feeling a bit awkward. “My little sister used to call me that…” Immediately, Y/n’s looking to Yoongi out of the corner of her eye, finding that he’s doing the same, the alarm in his eyes matching her own. Hoseok had never mentioned a sister.

“It’s a little… uncomfortable, so I feel bad…” Hoseok looks to Y/n’s mom then, watching carefully for her reaction when he continues. “My parents run an apiary -- they’re very big nature types, all about the ‘way of the natural world’ and stuff like that… that's why--" He cuts off, gesturing vaguely to the crown on the woman's head. That's why I know how to do this, he means. Clearing his throat, he continues. "So it didn’t really… go well… when I turned 11 and got the letter saying I was a wizard.” Y/n hears Yoongi inhale sharply from where he’s sitting, and she knows he’s putting the pieces together like she is.

When Hoseok sees that Y/n’s mom is watching him with a guarded expression, almost worried about where he’s going with him, he bites at the inside of his cheek nervously. Y/n had never explicitly said it, but he could tell the minute he walked into the house just a few hours ago that she’s also a muggleborn. Wizarding homes always show signs of magic -- dishes that wash themselves, hanging plants that can’t be found anywhere in the muggle world, that kind of thing. He hadn’t seen anything to give away a magical upbringing, almost shocked at how much Y/n’s home reminded him of his own childhood.

He can see now that the woman is glancing at her own daughter, and he knows what she’s thinking. Y/n and Hoseok are the same, but his world had been entirely different. He sees her making that connection, so he just decides to rip off the metaphorical band-aid and finish explaining.

“My parents didn’t want something ‘unnatural’ living in the house, influencing their innocent daughter, so they kicked me out. Agreed to help me pay for an apartment and bills as long as I promised to never reach out to them for anything else -- Dumbledore helped me out the first few summers, let me stay on the grounds since I wasn’t old enough to be on my own. I moved into a place not far from here when I turned 15.”

He’s got his eyes screwed shut now, terrified of the pity he’s going to find when he opens them again. It’s too quiet, and he feels his ears warming, knowing that it looks like he’s been thrown away, discarded. He doesn’t feel that way, having accepted his situation when he was still young -- having decided to accept his situation because it was better than being bitter. But he knows what people will see when they find out, so he’d gone to great lengths to hide it. Because he doesn’t need pity, he’s happy as he is.

While he’s thinking of how to ease everyone’s tension, he’s completely unprepared for the arms that wrap around his neck. Cracking his eyes open, he realizes these arms are quite small, that the person hugging him is quite small.

“Will you come back for family dinner every year?” Hana’s question is muffled in his neck, but the words have his heart stuttering because he really hadn’t been expecting this. Glancing quickly at Y/n, he finds that the pity he’d been preparing for isn’t there. She looks completely heartbroken, her eyes shining with unshed tears, but more than anything she looks mad.

She blinks it away when they make eye contact, and she nods while reaching for his hand. He’s not sure what she’s nodding at, and he gets the feeling she doesn’t know either, but he takes it as her understanding. Understanding that he doesn’t want to talk about it further, understanding what he’d meant in the forest that day about being happy alone.

Just past Y/n, Yoongi’s standing from his spot on the floor with a groan and a crack of his spine. He moves for Hana, who’s still clinging to Hoseok’s neck.

“Of course he’ll be back, Monkey. He’s not goin’ anywhere.” It’s said so simply, without any particular feeling to guide it, but Hoseok’s so immensely grateful for Min Yoongi in that moment. Not only because he hadn’t changed at all in the way he’d looked at Hoseok -- his eyes are still even and calm, if not laced with slightest bit of emotion when their gazes lock -- but because Hoseok had just received clear and direct approval from the one person in Y/n’s life that he’d been most nervous about.

It’s one thing to be nervous about family or the entirety of her friend group -- those things are normal. Min Yoongi is not normal, not to Y/n. He’s the only person that knows Y/n better than she knows herself, and Hoseok hadn’t even realized just how terrified he’d been that Yoongi wouldn’t accept him suddenly appearing in Y/n’s life the way he had. But he sees now, while Yoongi is slowly peeling Hana off of him and carrying her to the staircase, claiming that it’s ‘way past her bedtime’, that Yoongi’s just let him in. The girl waves goodnight to the rest of the group, almost immediately sleepy now that Yoongi's carrying her to bed.

When Hoseok looks to Y/n, eyes wide with surprise, he sees that she’s noticed Yoongi's behavior, too. Because she’s got her eyes closed, but she’s smiling fondly, like the telltale signs of Yoongi’s respect have finally revealed themselves, decidedly giving Hoseok his stamp of approval.

He’s so busy reveling in the fact that he’d just gotten all the reactions to his life story that he’d been expecting the least that he barely feels Y/n’s mom set a hand on his shoulder when she stands. He looks up now, taking in her kind eyes, and he thinks she’s going to say something sentimental, but--

“I like you a whole lot more than I liked Jungkook.” Hoseok’s jaw drops, and Y/n’s scoffing loudly beside him.

“Mom!” The woman smiles, leaving the two them there on the couch while she grabs the plates of pie, mumbling something about ‘needing to pack Noodle Arms a plate to go’ before heading into the kitchen. Hoseok can do nothing but laugh when he looks to Y/n, who’s still completely scandalized by her mom’s comment.

“I can’t tell if I should feel highly approved of, or just regularly approved of since Jungkook is apparently low on the Family Opinions list.” Y/n nudges him with her elbow playfully, and they sit there quietly together on the couch for a moment. He finds himself reaching out to brush his fingers across her knee insecurely.

“You know, you don’t have to feel bad for me. I really am okay -- I said it before, but I just… I’ve been okay not having anyone. It never really haunted me or hurt me or anything I’m sure you’d expect an abandoned child to feel. I just… took the bad with the good and decided to focus on the happy moments of my childhood because, believe it or not, I had a lot of them. It’s just easier to remember my parents as they were before, so that’s what I do.” Y/n nods slowly when he’s done, feeling a lot of things but wondering if maybe it’s not her place to say it. He sees it anyway, because he sees everything.

“You’re angry. That they left me.” Y/n glances at him quickly, wondering if he’s upset at all -- this is such a delicate subject, and she doesn’t know if she’s allowed to feel this mad for him. But he’s smiling, like he can tell she’d been trying to hide it and he’s finding her incredibly endearing for it. She purses her lips and nods shyly, confirming his suspicions.

“That they left you… yes. But I’m angry that they kept your sister from you.” It’d been obvious in the way Hoseok had talked about his parents that he’d become purposely detached from them, that he’d accepted the situation and doesn’t feel any certain way about them. But the name -- ‘Hoseokie’ -- it had set him on edge in a way she’d never seen in this carefree, sunny boy before. His sister’s a sore spot, probably the one thing that hurts most. His smile tells her everything she needs to know, because she’s never once seen him smile bitterly. And yet there it is, forcing his dimples to make an appearance in a way that isn’t as heartwarming as it usually is.

“The last time I saw her, she was Hana’s age… she probably looks so different now.” If a person could physically deflate into nothingness, Y/n would have successfully done it. Hoseok can’t help but snicker, the image of Y/n almost melting into the couch too endearing.

“I -- I can’t even imagine… not knowing what Hana will look like in a few years.” It breaks her heart all over again, the way Hoseok nods, because he knows exactly what that feels like. But he refuses to dwell on it, clapping his hands down on his knees decisively and shaking Y/n from her stupor with the noise.

“Spend New Year’s Eve with me!” Y/n’s brain stalls, trying to process what he’d just said. He waits patiently, smiling while she switches mental gears and catches up to him.

“Huh? I mean -- sure? Yes? But, huh?” He laughs under his breath, finding her confusion almost obnoxiously cute.

“I’ve never had anyone to spend it with. Now that I do… I really want to spend it with you.” Y/n swallows hard, wondering where these butterflies in her stomach are coming from -- maybe it’s the way he’s watching her, eyes curious as he waits for her reaction. She only nods, suddenly very shy under his gaze.

“I’d love to, Hoseok…” He warms at how low her voice is, and now he’s the one feeling shy, pressing his palms into his thighs and staring down at his lap. They’re quiet for a moment, the soft crackling from the fireplace filling the silence, until--

“Oh, just kiss already!” They both turn quickly toward the voice, finding Yoongi standing at the bottom of the staircase, a look of disgust filling his face. He shakes his head when they gape at him, going so far as to wave his hand quickly, his palm passing through the air with intent. “Look, I even helped.” He’s looking at the space above their heads, and when she and Hoseok follow his eyes, they find a piece of mistletoe growing from the ceiling, hanging down between them.

Y/n groans in annoyance while Hoseok sits there, blushing brightly at Yoongi’s forwardness. As if to make things worse for him, Y/n’s mom enters the room again then, noticing the mistletoe right away as she’s handing the comically large stack of to-go containers over to Yoongi.

“Oh, cute! Did they kiss?” She looks at Yoongi when she asks, and he shakes his head in disappointment -- Hoseok gets the feeling they’re enjoying pretending he and Y/n aren’t right here when they start snickering in unison.

“Well, I gotta go--” Yoongi stops to glare at Y/n when she looks at him knowingly, eyebrows raised. Hoseok wonders if maybe this is about the messages she’d seen on the Slytherin’s phone earlier. “-- but I’ll catch you guys later. Happy Christmas, nerds!” With that he’s heading for the entryway, and Hoseok can hear him bickering with Y/n’s mom all the way to the door.

“Yes, I brought my coat--”

“You don’t have a hat! I’m sure they make hats for big-headed people, too--”

“That is so offensive on so many levels--”

“I’ll just have to make you one myself--”

“Mom! Stop working so hard, I promise I’ll go buy a damn hat!”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, Big-Head!”

--

“I got us takeout!” It’s the first thing she says when Hoseok opens the door to his apartment, emphasized by the large bag she’s shaking in his face with enthusiasm. He pokes his head around it, smiling brightly at her.

“I also got us takeout!” Lowering her bag in surprise, she follows Hoseok into the small studio when he beckons her in, slipping her shoes off at the door as she looks to the kitchenette, where an equally large bag of food sits. She only looks to Hoseok, dumbfounded, and she finds he’s giving her the same look.

“How are we gonna eat all this--”

“No idea.” Y/n snorts when he looks between their two bags, face deadpan as he reaches for hers and sets it on the table beside his. He looks at them for a moment longer, finally speaking.

“Did we get takeout from the same place?” Y/n hangs her head with a groan when she realizes the bags look exactly the same. When she looks up again, he’s heading for the cabinets to get plates, his shoulders shaking with laughter. It’s infectious, and soon she’s shaking her head, turning to look around the apartment while she laughs openly. Her breath is cut short almost immediately when she looks at the living area.

“Holy plants.” Hoseok glances over to where she’s looking, a nervous laugh leaving him.

“Too much?” To put it simply, they’re everywhere. Floor plants, hanging plants, windowsill plants -- everywhere. There’s even a massive plant overtaking the table next to his bed in the corner, not an inch of space for him to put anything else. She feels like she just walked into a jungle.

“Your air must be really clean…” Hoseok laughs loudly, not having expected that to be her one assessment of his plant collection.

“You’re lucky I haven’t covered the couch in plants, too -- where are we gonna sit to watch TV?” As if the universe has decided to test him at this very moment in time for absolutely no reason other than to make him suffer, the apartment goes dark with the booming sound of the entire room powering down.

Hoseok barely manages to hold in his groan when he hears Y/n turn in his direction in the dark.

“I wasn’t watching anything good on TV these days, anyway.”

--

“Come on, come on -- where are they--”

“Hoseok, it’s fine--”

“I swear I had candles--”

“Hoseok--”

“Aha!” He pokes his head up from where he’s crouched by the closet, holding a stack of small candles triumphantly. Y/n’s sitting at the dining table, having cast lumos long ago and unpacked their copious amounts of food with nothing but the light of her wand. She’s smiling at him fondly now as he shows her the candles.

“Are you feeling better now?” Hoseok lowers his candles, sending her a sheepish smile as he rises to his feet and moves to join her at the table. He’d immediately started apologizing to her when the power had gone out, thrown into a panicked rush to fix things as he flitted around his apartment. She’d tried to reassure him that everything was okay, but he’d still felt really bad for messing up their night.

“I’m sorry, Y/n… I told my parents that I’m still in school until the spring, but I don’t think they heard that part when they said they were gonna stop helping me pay for stuff after graduation… I’ve been applying for jobs all year, but they just don’t really start accepting people until they see our NEWT results and transcripts and stuff, so--”

“Hobi.” He stops at the nickname, realizing when she levels him with a hard stare that he’s devolving into anxious rambling again. She reaches across the table, taking his hands in hers.

“Stop apologizing, Hobi. This isn’t your fault, and you haven’t ruined anything. I promise.” He’s slow to nod, but eventually he accepts her words, seeing how insistent she is.

“I do have one question, though.” He blinks, humming curiously when she continues and wondering what she’s going to say. “Do you… have spare blankets? Because it’s going to get very cold in here very fast.”

--

“I don’t think I want to eat anything ever again.”

“Mmm… Mmmm…”

“So you agree.”

“Mhm… Mmm…” Hoseok throws his head back against the couch, completely unable to form words after the meal they’d just had. Y/n snorts, nodding as she gets used to his various sounds of exhaustion.

“Me too, Hobi.” They sit there quietly for only a moment before Hoseok is lifting his head, urgent. Y/n looks at him, wondering what’s happening in his head when he turns to her, face deadpan yet again.

“I bought us ice cream on my way home with the food.” Immediately, she’s groaning, and he joins her in flopping around on his couch dramatically. Y/n takes a moment through her food-induced haze to appreciate their little setup.

The candles are set strategically on his coffee table and counters, clear of any plants because the last thing they need tonight is a fire. She’d been right in assuming it’d get cold, and they’d eventually stopped trying to manage with small blankets, dragging his comforter right off the bed and curling up together beneath it as they ate dinner. She can’t even recall what they’d talked about, the entire thing a confused fog from the food.

She knows they’d been giddy the whole time, on a weird high from the collection of ridiculous things that had happened in the first five minutes of her being here. That, along with the sheer amount of food and the wine Hoseok had pulled out for them, ended up creating nonstop laughter over the smallest things. She’s comfortable here, never having experienced a bubble of quiet happiness like this. She feels no pressure and she’s worried about nothing -- everything had fallen away when she’d walked in the door, the rest of the world blocked out from this safe space, here with Hoseok in his apartment.

“Oh! It’s almost midnight!” Hoseok’s squinting at his phone in the dark before showing her the screen -- 11:55pm. She glances at her own phone, sitting peacefully on the table in front of them, and she hates that the only thing she can think of is Jungkook. She’s scared that this period of silence between them will have done nothing, that as soon as the new year starts, he’s going to be back to badgering her constantly. She just wants everything to return to normal, and she’s scared that she only has five minutes left before that dream falls apart.

“Hey… Where’d you go just now?” Blinking, she sees that Hoseok’s peering at her, brow furrowed in concern. His phone toggles when he moves closer to her, a small pout set in his features, and the screen lights up again. 11:57pm. She hates that, after such a good night, it had taken only this to have them both frowning. She hates it.

“I just… I really just want all of this to be normal again. I want Jungkook to be normal again. I want the new year to be something good again, and I’m terrified it won’t be. I just want to forget everything bad from this year and start fresh.” She rolls her eyes at herself, hating that she’s ranting to Hoseok about her love life again, when they’d just wanted to have a nice New Year’s Eve together. But his mind is elsewhere, a thought crossing his mind suddenly. He checks his phone again. 11:59pm.

“Maybe I can help with that?” Y/n looks to him when he says it, confused.

“What do you mean?” He blinks, trying to decide if he’s really going to do this. The nervous feeling building in his stomach is somehow telling him this is a bad and good idea. He turns to her quickly.

“With that fresh start… forgetting the bad from this year… Maybe I can help…?” Y/n’s not sure what he means, but she doesn’t see why she would say no. Hoseok’s never done anything but help, even when he doesn’t realize it. If anyone’s going to help her forget, it’s him.

So she nods, waiting for him to explain. And then she’s gasping, because he’s leaning in, and she can see even in the dim lighting that he’s looking at her lips -- that he’s going to kiss her.

He pauses for a second to give her time to push him away. When she doesn’t, he’s glancing up and finding that she’s looking at him nervously, her gaze flicking back and forth between his eyes and his mouth. With a small inhale, he lets his eyes drift shut, closing the gap between them carefully.

Y/n’s not even sure she’s kissing him back -- she’s too focused on the feeling of his lips on her, how gentle he’s being as he applies just the slightest pressure to her mouth with his own. But she must be kissing him back, because he’s responding to something, his lips pressing harder when he feels her reciprocating.

It’s only one kiss, one that he pulls back from slowly after a moment, their breaths mingling warmly in the small space he’s created. Neither of them makes a move, eyes hooded and noses brushing in his dark apartment as they try to make sense of this haze long enough to figure out if this has really just happened. If Hoseok’s really just kissed her on New Year’s Eve.

And then her phone is lighting up on the table, celebratory texts from her friends pouring in, and they turn at the same time to glance at the screen. 12:00am.

Hoseok turns back to her then, eyes searching hers for something -- he’s not really sure what it is, but when a shy smile starts to dance at the edges of her lips, he knows he’s found it.

“Happy New Year, Y/n.”

[wormstar]

i was going thru ur blog and u have good posts about ableist aus and i was wondering - what if in the aus the requirements for warriors were different? Like instead of having to fight jay only hunts? Would the muddling of roles still be ableist? In a Tree-like situation?If its not presented in a "work super hard to get what you want" and more in a "yeah they can decide what he wants to do". This is mostly for jay (and cinder) specifically because they had desires to be warriors yet were forced to be medicine cats because of ableism (ig this can apply to briar but i just truly cant remember oots that well and i havent read her death). I am asking because i am still trying to unlearn the ableist mindset that i grew up with. Feel free to ignore this ask and thnx!

hey yeah thank you for asking! took the opportunity to write up more general thoughts on rewrites as a whole and i went over why exactly theyre ableist hopefully that provides a better perspective

i think the major thing to keep in mind is that the structure of the clans is very abled centric and overly ignorant of inner community work (for example dens are only solidified or altered when either the area takes damage/the clans grows wrt population) theres a fixation on marking territory and starting fights and whatever with other clans which is whats expected of most warriors to partake in. to fix those implications in any fanwork youve really gotta knead into them and understand the nature of their ableism....its not just a problem with cats being barred from being warriors its the whole occupation and the standard its held to, so to speak (+ that fits into general clan society being flawed but eh thats another thing and also its easy to branch out into thought about)

going to stress other disabled people might have other solutions to how disabled cats are received this is just how i like to think of things

first i think its kind of interesting to examine discrepancies between disabled cats in canon as somewhat of an indicator of clan attitudes and leaders and whatnot. like i think you could get something interesting by regarding lets say deadfoot in windclan and cinderpelt in thunderclan who both have bad legs yet had different experiences with them in clan life. if you wanna go a step further comparing generations like lilywhisker and deadfoot or cinderpelt and jayfeather (+ the consideration of how congenital disabilities are regarded) can also make things interesting and just give you an idea of what to do. having the clan systems stray from a clear-cut common attitude both gives you more freedom for different approaches + adds to worldbuilding anyway. imo boiling down clan society to perfect utopia just gets boring but you can have imperfections in the system that depict the disabled experience just fine. just be careful with them and the way they come across yeah?

(real quick as an in between. god just dont refer to cats/their injuries as crippled. it still happens somehow)

im a little ambivalent on the idea of creating a ‘special role’ for disabled cats to be thrown into. cause then thats a repeat of canon medicine den really. its like ‘oh youre disabled youre instantly discarded into the x role pit’ i think just adding substantial in-universe changes to the warrior rank itself (vagueness is fun actually) or expanding on ‘warrior types’ rectifies the othering angle. ‘othering’ as a whole is just as bad as the ‘exception’ archetype people run for most warrior aus i want to state that clearly. effectively if youre gonna introduce roles that dont depend on fighting or hunting or both make sure theres abled cats who have them too. like say you want a camp-based role where a cats job is to fix dens or one where they help in the nursery, its far easier for a cat who cant run to manage those but also have some cats who are physically capable of doing other ‘tasks’ do the same thing for personal reasons

the tree comparison is interesting honestly cause i guess you could just give a cat a particular thing to do as a nonfixed position. and roles accordingly being made for a cat to fill until they cant and the positions done away with afterward. but youve gotta do it carefully so you dont fall into othering as ive said. id avoid something like that personally i just dont like the quality of ‘well theyre not a warrior (the most noble/useful concept in cat society) theyre actually some other thing’

in general giving disabled cats agency and choice is the best thing you can do. whether this means them deciding on tasks they can do themselves or picking a certain kind of warrior to be or asking for an assistant to help them out when they do stuff. the way you wanna pull it off again depends on my first question of “how does the relevant part of your warrior cat world treat disabled cats already”

very important point, the majority of the ableism also comes in the form of character narratives and not just the structure of the world itself. like think for a bit why the writers decided jayfeather shouldve been forced to be a medic or why briarlight got killed off early etc etc. characters ‘wanting’ to be like the abled ideal and still being bitter about not fulfilling that years down the line are just part of the ableist storylines. if youre abled id literally say just do away with those sadstuck ‘i wanted to be a warrior!’ moments. if you really want to id say pull a cinderpelt or a shadowsight where a cats time in the medicine den started their fascination with medicine and they switched to that path due to personal intrigue. id say a more interesting and realistic angle to it is having a disabled cat who found fulfilment in doing something else besides being a warrior becoming bitter about their entire clan ‘mourning’ how theyll never fight again or giving them the pretence of being a warrior being the best thing you can do.... it depends on the character really

this is just a very basic disability thing but stray from the whole ‘useless/dead weight’ way of regarding disabled characters. like dont place their worth on how well they service a clan or not theyre still deserving of shelter and whatnot. you dont need to justify a cats existence or usefulness by going ‘well they may be blind but their sense of smell is excellent so we keep them around’ or whatever its just no good

last thing i can think of is like. dont disregard how a cats disability affects them. like its fine that briarlight cant fight (or even hunt major types of prey) she doesnt need some convoluted method that lets her do that. there are like a dozen other warriors hunting and fighting and theres present value and enjoyment in the stuff she does around camp. she doesnt have to be brightheart 2 its ok

[dirk-has-rabies]

Gender variance and it's link with neurodivergency

Okay so this is it going to be another long one

All quotes will be sourced with a link to the scientific journal I took it from

Okay Tumblr, let's talk gender (I know, your favorite topic) my preface on why this topic matters to me is: I'm autistic ( diagnosed moderate to severe autism) I'm nonbinary trans ( in a way that most non-autistic people don't understand and actually look down on)  and I went to college for gender study ( Mostly for intersex studies but a lot of my research was around non-binary and trans identities) I will be using the term autism as pants when I have experience with however when ADHD is part of the study I will use ND which stands for neurodivergent and yes this is going to be about xenogenders and neopronouns.

autism can affect gender the same way autism can affect literally every part of an identity. a big thing about having autism is the fact that it completely can change how you view personhood and time and object permanence and gender and literally all types of socially constructed ideas. let me also say hear that just because Society creates and enforces an idea does it mean that it doesn't exist to all people it just me that there is no nature law saying that it's real and the “rules” for these ideas can change and delete and create as time and Society evolves and changes.  gender is one of those constructs.

Now I'll take it by you reading this you know what transgender people are  (if you don't understand what a trans person is send me an ask and I'll type you up a pretty little essay lmao,  or Google it but that's a scary thought sense literally any Source or website can come up on Google including biased websites so be careful I guess LOL) anyway to be super basic trans people are anyone who doesn't identify as the gender they were assigned at Birth (yes that includes non-binary people I could do a whole nother essay about that shit how y'all keep spreading trying to separate non-binary people from the trans umbrella)  some people don't like to use the label and that is totally fine by the way.

now autistic people to view the world in a way differently than allistic (neurotypical) ppl do.  we don't take everything people teach us at 100% fact and we tend to question everything and demand proof and evidence for things before we can set it as a fact in our brains. This leads to why a lot of autistic people are atheist (although a lot of religions and this is not bashing on religious people at all I am actually a Jewish convert)  this questioning leads to a lot of social constructs being ignored or not understood At All by a lot of autistic people and personally I think that's a good thing.  allistics take everything their parents and teachers and schools teach them as fact until someone else says something and then they pick which ones to believe. autistic people study and research and learn about a topic before forming an opinion and while this may lead to them studying and believing very biased material and spitting it out as fact it can also lead them to try and Discover it is real by themselves.

because of this autistic people are more question their gender or not fall in a binary way at all as the concept of gender makes no sense to a lot of us. “ if gender is a construct then autistic people who are less aware of social norms are less likely to develop a typical gender identity”

no really look: “ children and teens with autism spectrum disorder ASD or Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder ADHD  are much more likely to express a wish to be the opposite sex compared with their typical developing peers” That was posted in 2014. we have been saying this stuff forever but no one wants to listen. the thing is gender variance (being not cisgender or at least questioning it)  has always been closely hand-in-hand with autistic and ADHD people I'm even the doctor who did that study understood right away that it all made sense the whole time: “ Dr. Strang said they were initially surprised to find an overrepresentation of gender variance among children with ADHD. However, they later realized that prior studies have shown increased levels of disruptive behavior and other behavioral problems among young people with gender variance”  SEE YOURE NOT WEIRD YOURE JUST YOU AND YOURE NOT ALONE IN THIS!!

5% autistic people who did the study were trans or questioning. it was also equal between the Sexes fun fact. that may not seem like a lot till you realize that the national average is only .7% that's literally over 700% higher than the national average. That's so many! and that's just in America.

 in Holland there was a study in 2010 “ nearly 8% of the more than 200 Children and adolescents referred to a clinic for gender dysphoria also came up positive on a assessment for ASD” they weren't even testing for ADHD so the numbers could be even higher!

now I want to talk about a  certain section of the trans umbrella that a lot of autistic people fall under called the non-binary umbrella. non-binary means anything that isn't just male or just female. it is not one third gender and non-binary doesn't mean that you don't have a gender. just clearing that up since cis people keep spreading that. non-binary is an umbrella term for any of the infinite genders you could use or create. now this is where I'm going to lose a bunch of you and that's okay because you don't have to understand our brains or emotions To respect us as real people. not many allistics can understand how we see and think and relate to things and that's okay you don't have to understand everything but just reading about this could be so much closer to respecting us for Who We Are from you've ever been and that's better than being against us just for existing.

now you might have heard of my Mutual Lars who was harassed  by transmeds for using the term Autigender (I was going to link them but if it gets traction I don't want them to get any hate)  since a lot of people roll their eyes at that  and treated them disgustingly for using a term that 100% applied correctly.  Autigender  is described as " a neurogender which can only be understood in the context of being autistic or when one's autism greatly affects one's gender or how one experiences gender. Autigender is not autism as a gender, but rather is a gender that is so heavily influenced by autism that one's autism and one's experience of gender cannot be unlinked.” Now tell me that doesn't sound a lot like this entire essay I've been working on with full sources…..

xenogenders and neopronouns are a big argument point on whether or not people “believe” in non binary genders but a big part of those genders is that they originated from ND communities and are ways that we can try to describe what gender means us in a way that cis or even allistic trans people just can't comprehend or ever understand. Same with MOGAI genders or sexualities. A lot of these are created as a way to somehow describe an indescribable relationship with gender that is so personal you really cant explain it to anyone who isnt literally the same as you.

Even in studies done with trans autistic people a large amount of them dont even fall on a yes or no of having a gender at all and fall in some weird inbetween where you KINDA have a gender but its not a gender in the sense that others say it is but its also too much of a gender so say youre agender. And this is the kind of stuff that confuses allistic trans people and makes them think nonbinary genders are making stuff up for attention, which isnt true at all we just cant explain what it feels like to BE a trans autistic person to anyone who doesnt ALREADY know how it feels.

In this study out of the ppl questioned almost HALF of the autistic trans individuals had a “Sense of identity revolving around interests” meaning their gender and identity was more based off what they liked rather than boy or girl. That makes ppl with stuff like vampgender or pupgender make a lot more sense now doesnt it? We see that even in the study: “My sense of identity is fluid, just as my sense of gender is fluid […] The only constant identity that runs through my life as a thread is ‘dancer.’ This is more important to me than gender, name or any other identifying features… even more important than mother. I wouldn't admit that in the NT world as when I have, I have been corrected (after all Mother is supposed to be my primary identification, right?!) but I feel that I can admit that here. (Taylor)” and an agreement from another saying “Mine is Artist. Thank you, Taylor. (Jessie)” now dont you think if they grew up with terms like artistgender or dancergender they would just YOINK those up right away????

In fact “An absence of a sense of gender or being unsure of how their gender should “feel” was another common report” because as ive said before in this post AUTISTIC PEOPLE DONT SEE GENDER THE WAY ALLISTIC PEOPLE SEE IT. therefore we wont use the same terms or have the same identities nor could we explain it to anyone who doesnt already understand or question the same way! Participants even offered up quotes such as “As a child and even now, I don't ‘feel’ like a gender, I feel like myself and for the most part I am constantly trying to figure out what that means for me (Betty)” and also “I don't feel like a particular gender I'm not even sure what a gender should feel like (Helen)”

Now i know this isnt going to change everyones minds on this stuff but i can only hope that it at least helped people feel like theyre not broken and not alone in their feelings about this. You dont have to follow allistic rules. You dont have to stop searching inside for who you really wanna be. And you dont have to pick or choose terms forever because just as you grow and evolve so may your terms. Its okay to not know what or who you are and its okay to identify as nonhuman things or as your interests because what you love and what you do is a big part of who you are and shapes you everyday. Its not a bad thing! Just please everyone, treat ppl with respect and if you dont understand something that doesnt make it bad or wrong it just means its not for you. And thats okay.

[2tired2study]

hi! i’ve recently finished the picture of dorian gray so let’s go over my favorite quotes (in order from the ones that appear in the book first to last)

if they know nothing of victory, they are at least spared the knowledge of defeat

being natural is simply a pose, and the most irritating pose i know

and as for believing things, i can believe anything, provided that it is quite incredible

when our eyes met, i felt that i was growing pale. a curious sensation of terror came over me. i knew that i had come face to face with someone whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if i allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself

he, too, felt that we were destined to know each other

laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is by far the best ending for one

a man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies

i like persons better than principles, and i like persons with no principles better than anything else in the world

every day. i couldn’t be happy if i didn’t see him every day. he is absolutely necessary to me

he is all my art to me now

it is only the intellectually lost who ever argue

and the mind of a thoroughly well-informed man is a dreadful thing

there is no such thing as a good influence, mr gray. all influence is immoral; immoral from the scientific point of view

he becomes an echo of someone else’s music

but the bravest man among us is afraid of himself

nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul

some day, when you are old and wrinkled and ugly, when thought has seared your forehead with its lines, and passion branded your lips with its hideous fires,you will feel it, you will feel it terribly

man is many things, but he is not rational

examinations, sir, are pure humbug from beginning to end. if a man is a gentleman, he knows quite enough, and if he is not a gentleman, whatever he knows is bad for him

behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic

there was something fascinating in this son of love and death

really! and where do bad americans go to when they die?... they go to america

well, the way of paradoxes is the way of truth

all i want now is to look at life. you may come and look at it with me, if you care to

punctuality is the thief of time

it is only the sacred things that are worth touching

when one is in love, one always begins by deceiving ones self, and one always ends by deceiving others

there is always something infinitely mean about other peoples tragedies

how different he was now than the shy frightened boy he had met in basil hallwards studio! his nature had developed like a flower, had borne blossoms of scarlet flame. out of its secret hiding-place had crept his soul, and desire had come to meet it on the way

it is personalities, not principles, that move the age

people are very fond of giving away what they need most themselves

he lives the poetry that he cannot write. the others write the poetry that they dare not realize

human life—that appeared to him the one thing worth investigating

to note the curious hard logic of passion, and the emotional coloured life of the intellect—to observe where they had met, and where they separated, at what point they were in unison, and at what point they were at discord—there was a delight in that! what matter was the cost? one could never pay too high a price for any sensation

with his beautiful face, and his beautiful soul, he was a thing to wonder at. it was no matter how it all ended, or was destined to end. he was like one of those gracious figures in a pageant or a play, whose joys seem to be remote from one, but whose sorrows stir ones sense of beauty, and whose wounds are like red roses

the senses could refine, and the intellect could degrade

all that it really demonstrated was that our future would be the same as our past, and that the sun we had done once, and with loathing, we would do many times, and with joy

it often happened that when we thought we were experimenting on others we were really experimenting on ourselves

the joy of a caged bird was in her voice

she was free in her prison of passion

i love him because he is like what love himself should be.

he was like a common gardener walking with a rose

he had the dislike of being stared at, which comes on geniuses late in life and never leaves the commonplace

to be in love is to surpass ones self

my wonderful lover, my god of graces

i wish i had, for as sure as there is a god in heaven, if he ever does you any wrong, i shall kill him

whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives

i don’t want to see dorian tied to some vile creature, who might degrade his nature and ruin his intellect

we are not sent into the world to air our moral prejudices

and unselfish people are colourless. they lack individuality

you are much better than you pretend to be

of course, it is sudden—all really delightful things are

he is not like other men. he would never bring misery upon any one. his nature is too fine for that

but i am afraid i cannot claim my theory as my own. it belongs to nature, not to me

no civilized man ever regrets a pleasure, and no uncivilized man ever knows what a pleasure is

there was a gloom over him

he felt that dorian gray would never again be to him all that he had been in the past

any one you love must be marvellous

it is not good for ones morals to see bad acting

there are only two kinds of people who are really fascinating—people who know absolutely everything, and people who know absolutely nothing

you taught me what reality really is

you had made me understand what love really is

you are more to me than all art can ever be

there is always something ridiculous about the emotions of people whom one has ceased to love

a faint echo of his love came back to him

we live in an age when unnecessary things are our only necessities

when we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us

i cant bear the idea of my soul being hideous

one can always be kind to people about whom one cares nothing

nothing makes one so vain as being told that one is a sinner

it is only shallow people who require years to get rid of an emotion

you were the most unspoiled creature in the whole world

of you wish me never to look at your picture again, i am content. i have always you to look at

from the moment i met you, your personality had the most extraordinary influence over me. i was dominated, soul, brain, and power, by you

i grew jealous of every one to whom you spoke. i wanted to have you all to myself. i was only happy when i was with you

i only knew that i had seen perfection face to face

i grew more and more absorbed in you

you are made to be worshipped

in every pleasure, cruelty has its place

but it was to teach man to concentrate himself upon the moments of life that is itself but a moment

out of the unreal shadows of the night comes back the real life that we had known. we have to resume it where we left off, and there steals over us a terrible sense of the necessity for the continuance of energy in the same wearisome round of stereotyped habits, or a wild longing, it nat be, that our eyelids might open some morning upon a world that had been refashioned anew in the darkness for our pleasure, a world in which things would have fresh shapes and colours, and be changed, or have other secrets, a world in which the past would have little or no place, or survive, at any rate, in no conscious form of obligation or regret, the remembrance of even joy having its bitterness and the memories of pleasure their pain

yet, as had been said of him before, no theory of life seemed to him to be of any importance compared with life itself

he saw that there was no mood of the mind that had not its counterpart

art, like nature, has her monsters

is insincerity such a terrible thing? i think not. it is merely a method by which we can multiply our personalities

and mind you don’t talk about anything serious. nothing is serious nowadays. at least nothing should be

i am tired of myself tonight. i should like to be someone else

sin is a thing that writes itself across a mans face

you forget that we are in the native land of the hypocrite

that is the reason why i want you to be fine. you have not been fine

you have a wonderful influence. let it be for good, not for evil

i wonder do i know you? before i could answer that, i should have to see your soul

my god! don’t tell me that you are bad, and corrupt, and shameful

so you think it is only god who sees the soul, basil? draw that curtain back, and you will see mine

each of us has heaven and hell in him, basil

you are the one man who is able to save me

don’t speak about those days, dorian—they are dead... the dead linger sometimes

lord henry, i am not at all surprised that the world says that you are extremely wicked

life is a great disappointment

i like men who have a future and women who have a past

moderation is a fatal thing. enough is as bad as a meal. more than enough is as good as a feast

you always want to know what one has been doing. i always want to forget what i have been doing

his soul, certainly, was sick to death

he was prisoned in thought. memory, like a horrible malady, was eating his soul away

ones days were too brief to take the burden of another’s errors on ones shoulders

it is a sad truth, but we have lost the faculty of giving lovely names to things

to define is to limit

to be popular one must be a mediocrity

romance lives by repetition, and repetition converts an appetite into an art

i am searching for peace

the appeal to antiquity is fatal to us who are romanticists

sick with a wild terror of dying, and yet indifferent to life itself

horror seemed once more to lay its hand upon his heart

how terrible it was to think that conscience could raise such fearful phantoms

he had a wild adoration for you and that you were the dominant motive of his art

when you and he ceased to be great friends, he ceased to be a great artist

if a man treats life artistically, his brain is his heart

art has a soul, but that man had not

the soul is a terrible reality

to get back my youth i would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable

but a chance tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play—i tell you, dorian, that it is on things like these that our lives depend

life has been your art

the books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world it’s own shame

the world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. the curves of your lips rewrite history

it was the living death of his own soul that troubled him

as it had killed the painter, so it would kill the painters work, and all that that meant. it would kill the past, and when that was dead, he would be free

[loverofallthingssmart]

HELLO . idk if u still interact with kotlc fandom but a friend has brought up the concept of desi keefe and i am wondering if u have any ideas as in hcs or concepts or just what u think in general?? :0

i do in fact on rare occasions interact with kotlc fandom HELP love how u phrased that like in fact i saw kotlc on a display shelf thing at b&n and went insane <33

and OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH desi keefe yes yes so true

i think. personally. its funny bc keefe does have desi boy characteristics in that he is annoying, flaky, and a charmer that u cant help but love (i have 2 desi boyz as some of my best friends shut up i have experience TM)

anyway hc time!!!!!!!!!

keefe. more like karthik except white ppl r gonna butcher that so keefe works fine.

photographic memory means this bitch remembers every aunty and uncle to ever exist always dominates the "do you remember me" question when he visits india and sees relatives (which i dont bc i nod and THEN they say "what's my name"...um lol goodbye im never coming back ever.)

keefe would love mango lassi and he would adore chaat and he would be obsessed with chai. keefe strikes me as an a "marie gold" type of person don't you DARE tell me im wrong these were THE shit and theyre perfect to dip in chai licherally the only reason i would drink chai

^^ that is everything to me

okay but imagining keefe in canon as a brown boy with his parents obsessed with his "legacy" comparing that to the immigrant experience where you have to live a set life and ur parents worked hard so you can be the person they want you to be......hmmmmmmmmm anyway (except that doesnt excuse how gisela and cassius r literally abusive . lol. actually when ppl characterize them as brown bc haha they care about perfect grades when they r truly abusive. thinking thoughts....ruminating. anyway) back to happy times !!!

keefe would look so good in gold jewelry he gets his ears pierced when hes like 6 months and instead of red being sophie's color its keefe's!! bc GOD do we look hot in red its literally everything

i think. telegu speaking keefe. omg wait what if he spoke tamil. WAIT. marathi. and kannada. yeah fuck it um. he speaks all of them?? i cant choose they're all so !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! im obsessed bc its a given hes south indian like duh.

he would play the veena. loser (affectionate) i say as if i can play the veena

omg what if desi vackers and desi keefe met bc biana does hmm. bharatnatyam (no im not projecting SHUT UP) and meets keefe bc hes playing the veena for her arangetram (which is like. the performance when u graduate its a BIG DEAL with live music and everything its huge mines in like 2 years so yea)

ALSO keefe loooooooooves bollywood movies and okay he DOES like the good ones that make u cry but keefe ESPECIALLY likes the ones from the 90s where its a love triange and the girl gets kidnapped so the boy saves her from the other boy who got rejected stuff like that ("andaz apna apna" is the one im thinking of...loosely), he also likes all three dhoom movies (even the third one with katrina kaif which looking back on is so....insanity), and his guilty pleasure is "chak de india" bc screw him sometimes u just like watching the mcdonalds fight scene where a bunch of girls (on a hockey team) who never get along with each other band together and DEMOLISH guys who insulted and catcalled them while their hardass really mean coach sits there in amusement and happiness okay! (SHUT UP YES I DO THIS ITS EVERYTHING TO ME THIS MOVIE IS SO <33 SORRY)

okay sorry i have realized i apparently have many thoughts on keefe and bollywood movies insanity

ummm oh right! keefe loves loves loves idli especially with coconut chutney and he ADORES appam (GOD appam my beloved) and hes so hungry all the time all the aunties love him bc he eats whatever they make. okay but LOL keefe hates payasum and i think i should be able to have this one thing.

i think i should stop here bc WOW this is extremely long um tldr; no thoughts, head empty, only desi keefe

[generalexcuse]

Alright. I am beating a dead horse here but taking time off of this show and fandom did not work. This will be the last time I ever say something about it but it’s upsetting to me so I need to vent. And to everyone saying “You are an adult man and this is fiction, why are you so obsessed? Weirdo. Learn to differentiate between fiction and reality.” I am going to address these notions as well as other problems I am having here. But really, Inuyasha was one of my first Anime, I have many dear memories and especially Rin was one of my all time favourite characters. Seeing her being mistreated like this upsets me. Ofc it does because if you watch something in formative years it’s not just fiction like a boring sitcom you watch now. Shows and characters are important to people and to simply dismiss it like that even if they would have been equally upset if it wouldnt have become canon, is infuriating. Really this is just therapeutic for me because even after weeks it’s still so baffling to me. Also please excuse the grammar and spelling mistakes. I am not a native speaker.

So the problem is obviously Sessrin and how it’s done because while I absolutely dont agree with this pairing, it would have been fine if it wasnt like it is. 

In the original show, Rin is an 8 yo child and her entire character reflects just that. She behaves like a child and depends on others. She has also been traumatized, doesnt speak at the beginning of the show and dies twice. Both times she is saved by or because of Sesshomaru. In many ways, while she has survival skills on her own, she depends on his presence alone to keep danger away. He also leaves her with trustworthy humans at the end but stays in her life as a protector. Now I like the original dynamic. It’s sweet, innocent and both characters grow because of it. Rin can work through her traumatic experiences, learns to trust others and Sesshomaru becomes a better person.  What happens afterwards only happens offscreen right until Rin gives birth to his children at the crippling old age of 15. 15. My lil sis is 16 now and couldnt consent to something like that. And she is mature af. It’s ridiculous. My blood boils just typing that shit out. And if you give me the ‘it’s legal in Japan’ excuse. In Germany a 14 yo can be with a 20 yo sexually. Still not okay in societies eyes and on tv it’s never shown as something positive. It’s even explicitly forbidden for authority figures like teachers or protectors to be with their protégé before the age of 18 because the chances of even unintentional grooming are too high. 

Now lets take a quick break and discuss how this kind of relationship usually plays out in other fictional pieces. A minor with an adult is something that is being portrayed at times and I dont have a problem with that. The problem is how it’s being done in Yashahime. And I dont mean the nonexisting character development but the fact that even in adult fiction this type of relationship isnt depicted positively. And this show is for young adults and teens that will exist way after all the discourse as the official sequel to Inuyasha. A cult anime. Meaning that in the future young people will watch it. Just like many still watch Inuyasha to this day. It’s on Netflix for fucks sake. Just to preface what comes next.   Some people say, “But cant you differentiate between reality and fiction?!?!?!” Adults can but younger people havent developed this ability to the same extent.   What happened to Rin was statutory r*pe in the USA, illegal even in Germany and should have been depicted as such unless the showrunners and fandom are okay with watching it without criticism or deconstruction. At best it was done with the intention to please the fanbase but really it’s neglectful to anyother part of the present and future audience. Not even most Animes do that. And I get that Sessriners arent into that shit in real life and an adult show could have gone this route because the viewers understand and add the criticism in their heads. Not ideal but whatever to me. But a YA show to go this route is so wrong on so many levels. The younger viewer who will watch this show in the following years might subconsciously internalize that this is acceptable under certain conditions when it’s not criticized properly on the show. That lowers their alertness when an adult actually starts to groom them. How dense do you have to be to assume that the lack of criticism on this YA show is a good thing?? Not everyone who will ever watch this show is an adult or capable of the same reasoning.

But another thing: for the same reason r*pe isnt depicted in a positive light, these types of relationships arent either. Because it’s not a positive thing and most people and showrunners dont want to see or create it as positive. Even in adult fiction, even in other anime, the media critizes and deconstructs what it’s showing because normally the showmakers dont approve but show it for realisitc or dramatic reasons. the same sessrin storyline would fit a fucking horror or thriller series. Just change the music and show it all. No showmakers in their right mind would go “Aye we got a r*pe scene coming up, lets put romantic music and have a pink filter over it.” “But it’s a different time and culture!” People will say and I agree but to have the audacity to assume that back then it was okay or that in todays Japan it’s okay, is fucked up. Think about it for a second. That’s so fucked up to think. Even if the society back then or in Japan thinks it’s okay, does it make it okay? 15 yo girls werent able to consent to adults and bear their children back then. They had to. They were raised with the expectations and they simply grew up thinking that it was the normal thing. But that doesnt make it right. That’s just societal grooming which did not prepare them in any way or allowed them the human dignity that they would have deserved. To now act like it’s all cool to just show the “positive” aspects or to twist it into something positive is so fucked up. Child Brides are a fucked up concept and to portray it as anything else is fucked up and also undermines the experience many girls still have to make. period.

I heard people say that it’s okay to portray it in this way because “Sesshomaru is not human!!!1″ and that’s correct. He is not. BUT, it’s not about being human but about maturity, consens, and independency. Him being a yokai makes it worse imo because there is an obvious power discrepancy. But in this particular fiction a good relationship could have been established (Kagome and Inuyasha for example) on those foundations but they did not because I can only assume they wanted Sesshomaru to smash and the show to pick up at a point where the other characters arent too old to be cool.

“What’s with Sango and Miroku, Kagome and Inuyasha?? It’s the same!” No it’s not. Rin was 8 at the beginning of the show. Kagome was 15 and Sango was 16-17 when they met their significant others. If you now tell me that you think 8 to be comparable to 15-17, I must ask you to get a reality check. Kagome’s and Sango’s relationships were slowburns starting when they already were able to have sexual and romantical feelings. Rin was a child. And Kagome did not kiss Inuyasha until they knew each other for a long ass period of time and bonded as friends and maybe more. Sesshomaru and Rin never were friends in the same way that Kagome and Inuyasha were because the maturity levels are way off. No adult is friends with a little child in the same way they are friends with their adult friends. And normally you dont grow into such a friendship but in the rare case you do, it’s not when she is 15 but maybe 20 or 25. 

Last but not least, Rin is not a character to the audience the same way Kagome or Sango are. Why? Because she was never shown as an adult or 3 Dimensional character to the audience. We know her as a child who wants to be with her trusted group. She is naive, but tough and doesnt have any motivation or drive on her own outside her group. Like every child she clung to the adults around her and her world outside of this group was nonexisting. Kagome wanted to be successful in school, Sango was a demon hunter and wanted to find her brother. Those are motivations and traits that dont circle around the love interest. Rin never had those because she was not developed to that point. Because she was a child and her entire existence was to develop Sesshomaru and to perhaps give the viewer a character to simply adore. What we see is of her: Mistreated child, -> Dead child -> Child being looked after and healing, -> Child not being homeless anymore -> ????? -> Teenager getting knocked up, pumping out main characters and then getting yeeted into a tree. 

This is not the way you treat a beloved character. There is no dignity to her character. “But she is fictional!!1″ Yes she is. But please show me a show that treats its child characters like this without criticizing it. 

I would have loved to see her grow as her own person. Go on her own adventures or learning a craft or developing meaningful bonds with other characters her age. Forming ideas that dont revolve around Sesshomaru alone. You know her being 3 Dimentional and not just there to pump out main characters. And if she then with 20 or 25 met Sesshomaru again and thought he was the hottest shit, I would have been fine with it. Not happy but fine. But in the little time we saw her as ‘not a child’, she still behaved the way she did before. 

[alkhale]

Enough for Two (Tendou x Mute!Reader) Ko-fi request

So sorry but here come the waves of request that i have for you.if you cant write some it doesnt matter.I like being able to make requests but i especially want to support you. Can i get a Tendou x reader fic please?

If and when your commissions are open would you be open to writing about a Soulmates AU Reader/Satori Tendou or what ever AU/Non AU you want? If you have too much on your plate, then no worries I just really enjoy your writing!

Also found here on AO3 if it’s more convenient to read, please enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24785287

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

Sometimes people do things without reason to give themselves reason.

It’s a bit of a strange thought, but it’s really the only thing that makes sense to you in this situation right now at lease.

You watch your notebook go sailing across the hallway floor, sliding like a hockey puck until it smacks with finality against the opposite wall. You stare, still on your hands and knees from where you’d been about to pick it up and feel an incoming sigh well up in your lungs, hefty and full of power.

The sigh leaves your lips, nothing but a quiet, big gust of air. It does nothing compared to the racket of laughter filling the hall, shrill giggles that make you wonder if your own laugh sounds like that. You pray not.

In a perfect world, you imagine yourself turning your head to the trio of girls behind you—always in threes, isn’t it?—turning around to face their laughter with a disgusted frown and opening your mouth and spitting out, “ What the hell is your problem?” They’d probably turn white as ghosts and go screaming for the hills.

But the girls don’t go screaming for the hills. They continue to laugh and those words never leave your lips. They can’t, anyway, and your notebook is all the way at the other end of the hall since one of them sent it flying with a good kick. You remain there on your knees, staring after it for a long while before you turn back to the three girls.

They smile at you, bright, glossy sneers pulled over their lips.

You’re not really sure what it is but you think this is where you hypothesis comes into play—bullying doesn’t quite make sense, but at a school like Shiratorizawa where the students are rich and wonderful and have mostly met the hierarchy of needs necessary for a good life—they get bored. And when students are bored their minds wander, their hands wander, and their eyes wander too, all the way until they land on the girl who never says a word in the corner of their class they like to call a freak even though her problem isn’t freakish—it’s perfectly diagnosable.

When people get bored they sometimes need a reason to remind themselves they exist, even if there really is no reason for that at all.

“Oh, sorry,” the first one says, exactly the way they would in a drama—it’s a little amazing, actually. Maybe art imitates life more than you thought. “We didn’t see it there.”

“You shouldn’t just crawl on the floor like that,” another says. “What if someone tripped over you?”

“You look sad like that,” the last one says, pitifully. “Need some help?”

You gaze at them for a long moment, meeting their eyes in silence. They snicker, putting hands daintily over their mouths. They’re the annoying types who like to make sure their arm sleeves are folded up nice and neat so everyone can see the ink black words scrawled out on their skin, make sure it’s not hindered at all, bold and visible.

They start shooting each other looks. “Can you believe her?” they say to each other. “Look at her, oh my god. Is she for real?” and “Wow, this is so sad. We should stop.”

But they’re bored, so of course they’re not going to stop.

It’s useless, but you move your fingers anyways, aggressively shifting your hands in the air.

“ No, thanks. You can scram you pieces of shit. I’m tired of choking on your perfume. ”

It’s quite a hefty amount of words leaving your fingers. They take it as your way of feebly apologizing or saying something that fits their narrative and they giggle, turning on their heels and leaving you behind. This probably won’t be the last you see of them, not until graduation, but that’s fine.

It’s just one more year.

You wait until they disappear around the corner and finally stand up, brushing dust off your skirt and your knees. You stare at the floor for a few minutes, thinking up words and sentences in your head and using the memory of voices you like to imagine your own voice sounding just like that—telling them off and giving them a scare.

“W-What? You’re not mute? Oh my god!”

Yeah. You think, scoffing in silence at yourself. As if.

You feel a bit more resentful than usual even though this isn’t really anything new. They’ve done worse; tripping you in the halls or shoving you on their way to their desks. You’re just a picture perfect target in their pitifully cliche world to give them more meaning to their otherwise useless lives.

When you think of it in such a haughty manner, it does make you feel a bit better. Just a bit, because this still sucks.

You shake your head, reluctant to go get your notebook but knowing you need to do it anyway. You rub the etched, pale marking on your wrist for reassurance and start the long trek down the hall, keeping your eyes on the floor.

If it gets anymore annoying or anymore physical, you’ll bring it up to the teachers. You hate the thought of getting the staff involved but you’re not stupid enough to let them get bold enough to shove you down some stairs and risk your life. Who knew what the hell these pigeons were capable of? You’d just be the sad, bullied mute kid telling on the teachers but who cared?

No one.

Your stickered notebook pops up in your vision, grinning food stickers beaming back up at you. You blink, briefly terrified for a second before your head quickly snaps upwards.

His shocking red hair juts up in your field of vision first, followed by the easy, sneaky looking slant of his eyes and the almost perched little way his lips curve up into a tiny, peckish smile. Beside his face he throws up a giant peace sign with his two fingers.

“Hiyah,” he says, grinning cheekily at you. “This is yours, rrrrriiiiggghhhtt?”

He’s in your class, you realize, mind racing. Tendou, I think. He’s on the volleyball team and he sits two chairs behind you. You remember all this because you always collect the papers up at the front and see his name, messy and hurried. And he talks a lot too. He’s loud and laughs and teases people all the time in class—you watch him sometimes because you’re a bit jealous of how much he talks, how much he’s able to talk, shifting the tone of his voice in all these little creative ways, whether because he’s making fun of someone or just answering a question.

He feels like someone who really, really makes good use of his voice. Makes sure it's used, you mean. Doesn’t waste it.

You like that.

Tendou flaps the book once in front of you. You blink, quickly nodding and reaching out to take it.

He holds it up over his head, grinning down at you.

You stare up at him in disbelief, feeling your stomach sink.

Not him too. You knew he was notorious for being disliked amongst some of your peers—people tended to forget you were mute, not deaf—and he teased people however he liked. He was a generally tough nut to figure out no matter how you looked at it, but you never took him for a small time school bully either.

Disheartened, you wordlessly look up at him, frowning. Tendou continues to smile, holding your notebook over his head.

“Is that what you say to someone who helps you?” he says. “Nooooothing?”

I can’t. You mouth, pressing your hands to your mouth. I can’t. Sorry. You move your lips, exaggerating how you mouth the words. Thank you. Please give it back.

“Nope!” Tendou says. “Try again.”

He’s ridiculously tall. He really must be good at volleyball too. There’s no way you’re getting it with a measly jump. Your hand clenches into a fist at your side, your free hand twitching on instinct to sign out your words but you wordlessly try mouthing them at him again, feeling your frustration bubble up useless into your throat.

“Come on, I know you can do it,” Tendou says cheerfully. You clench your fist harder. His free hand moves sloppily in the air in front of you, waving his fingers in a lazy sort of manner that matches the easy look on his face, amused. “Try again!”

Wait a minute.

Your eyes quickly hone in on his free hand, staring at him in stunned disbelief. Tendou’s smile widens and he moves his hand again, shifting his fingers. With purpose. Not uselessly. You stare at Tendou’s hand, eyes growing round in shock. Your jaw drops and you look back at Tendou.

“Try,” Tendou signs and says, grinning like an imp, “Again!”

Your hands quickly move, “Thank you.”

Tendou drops your notebook right into yours hands, grinning. You stare, stunned and disbelieving, a part of you realizing he signs terribly—he must’ve just learned—and Tendou throws his hands behind his head with a whistle. “There ya go! You’re not so mute now, are ya!”

Your eyes shoot up to Tendou’s but he’s already turning, waving his hand at you and disappearing around the hall. “Bye bye (L/n)-chan!”

You’re still standing in the hallway like an idiot, staring at the spot where Tendou had been in disbelief.

Tendou, the loud, tall, bright red-head kid in your class, the same kid you never saw yourself ever communicating with, the same kid who was on your school’s top notch volleyball team, the same kid who made fun of people and scared others off and only hung out with his team—

Knew how to sign? A bit? Badly?

You blink, stunned.

Huh?

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

“Wow! This thing is practically empty!”

Your head shoots up in shock at the familiar voice, eyes going round as Tendou sits in the desk in front of you—it’s very much not his desk and you think you can see the bothered student at the front by the door, but his friends shoo him away from saying anything as Tendou continues to flip through your notebook. It’s nothing private—small questions to people or asking someone to hand you something when you couldn’t speak up or gesture. This notebook was the one you carted around to try and communicate with your classmates, hoping to start conversations and talk with them.

No one used it, so you didn’t either.

Tendou doesn’t look the slightest bit bothered, big and lanky and taking up all the space as he continues to flip through the notebook. He hums to himself, lips pursed in that funny little way of his until he gets to the empty pages.

You stare at him like some kind of exotic bird, a bit mystified by his presence.

“Say, (L/n)-chan,” Tendou says. “Isn’t this kind of sad? You even wrote Communication Notebook on this, but there’s not much communication going on, is there?”

You move your hands, signing, “ Not many people to talk to. It can’t be helped.”

Tendou’s eyes rapidly follow your hands and he squints, making a constipated face. You exhale quietly in amusement, signing again, slower, watching to see if he understands. Tendou’s face becomes unreadable and then he turns to you, lips pulled up into a massive, almost creepy grin.

“(L/n)-chan, how bold! Didya just say you like me?”

You shake your head. Tendou blows a loud horse sigh through his lips, flapping them. He’s clearly upset you didn’t make more of a show of the whole joke. Instead, you take your notebook from his willing hands and write. “Sorry. I was wondering if you knew how to sign. There aren’t many people to talk to so it can’t be helped.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Tendou says, waving a hand. “I only learned a little to get your attention anyway. Makes sense~”

You stare at Tendou, stunned by his honesty.

“Aren’t ya bored of just sitting here all quiet?” Tendou asks.

You write, “I guess.”

“Ugh. I’d get bored. I like talking, you know? It fills up the silence real nice. You know what I mean?”

“ Yes. I like it when you talk too.”

“That was supposed to be a joke. I was kinda making fun of you. (L/n)-chan are ya not good at picking up jokes too? Or are you just flirting with me?”

“No. It’s just how I feel.”

“Haha, okay, you weirdo! Why don’t you teach me some more sign language then, hmm? I bet you’ll get awful tired writing in that all day and I’m a pretty quick study~”

You stare at Tendou, lowering your book and frowning at him. Tendou continues to grin, his little perched lip look, sneaky and unassuming as he waggles his brows at you. You sort of understand why your classmates call him creepy, but it’s mostly from his heights and mannerisms more than anything else. Otherwise, Tendou Satori is just… another teenage boy.

You pinch your fingers together into an okay sign, still marveling at the strange creature in front of you.

Tendou’s eyes drift absently to the pale mark on your wrist and he grins, holding up his fingers in a peace sign, using it like scissors to cut your okay sign in half.

You stare at him.

“Sheesh, can’t get any reaction out of you, can I? What a tough crowd!”

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

This is the first time you’ve ever had class with Tendou. It’s your first time properly “talking” to him too. You know him from the announcements, from the rumours that spread here and there about his unsettling ways and most importantly, you see him on the screens when your school calls the students together to watch the boys’ volleyball team dominate Sendai’s qualifiers all over again.

Outside of staring at him from time to time and appreciating the way he talks, that day two weeks ago now in the hallway is still the first time the two of you have ever properly interacted. The day after that he approached you in class and now everyday since—Tendou talks to you.

And he talks a lot too.

Between classes he talks to you, sidling up with his lanky, swaying body like some kind of cowboy from a foreign western. He perches over and sprawls across your desk like the two of you have been friends for years, talking about school, about class, about your classmates even or this and that, but he mostly talks about you, anime, or volleyball.

He walks you between classes since the two of you mostly share each one and he stands or crouches by your desk, talking and talking while you frantically scribble or take a few minutes each class period to try to teach him new phrases and words. He didn’t lie about being a quick study, but he’s still sloppy so it’s funny to watch.

This whole thing is a bit bewildering, to be honest. You don’t know what prompted Tendou Satori to start talking to you and make such an emblazoned effort, but maybe it’s for something similar to why those three girls like to pick on you. For no real reason at all.

You don’t really mind it, to be honest. Reason or not—he’s an entirely welcome presence, jokes, teasing, and strangeness—all of it.

“Did you like this week’s Jump ?”

“Yes,” you sign and then switch to writing. “The new chapter for Chainsaw Man was good. It made me sad though.”

“Wow, wow, (L/n)-chan you like the gorey stuff, huh?” Tendou muses, tapping your book. “Scary! I thought you’d like We Never Learn better or one of the other ones.”

“ Act-Age is good,” you write. “I’m invested. Which one do you follow? ”

“The classics! One Piece! My Hero! All the typical, easy to understand, not too complicated—I’m just kidding, don’t you think Denji’s an idiot?”

“ Yes, but I like him too. ”

“(L/n)-chan, don’t tell me that’s your type of guy,” Tendou gasps, looking scandalized. “Uneducated perverts?”

“ No, ” you sign and then write, “ I like guys that seem hard to understand but aren’t.”

“Ugh, that sounds like a headache!” Tendou flops entirely onto your desk and you raise your notebook to write. “I can only talk about Jump with you, Wakatoshi said he won’t read it until the end of the season for us! Can you believe him?”

“Yes. ”

“Traitor! (L/n)-chan, you beautiful traitor~ How cruel~”

You turn your notebook over so Tendou can read it. He squints up at you.

“Not that I mind, but Tendou, is there a reason why you started talking to me?”

“The golden question!” Tendou shouts, not even trying to sit up. You move your notebook so you can see his face and Tendou just grins back up at you, looking satisfied. “Does there have to be one?”

You shake your head. Tendou hums, content. “Perfect! We’re on the same page then.”

Tendou nearly cracks the spine of his Jump that he leant to you, opening up the pages and holding it over both of your heads. You have to weasel awkwardly under his arm and crane your head to look up at what he’s looking at too, faces side by side and Tendou grins. “Now, what did you think about Promised Neverland’s finale?”

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

You stare at your empty shoe locker in silence, frowning at the sight of it.

The shoes that were supposed to be there no longer are. You stare at it for a moment longer, glancing down to your school slippers and then silently turning over to the trashcan a few feet away. You gaze at it for a long time before walking over to it with your head held high, ignoring the outburst of giggles and feigned gasps of disgust as you come to stand in front of it.

You tuck your notebook into your bag, lifting the lid of the bin up. Some students look over in confusion and several make faces as you roll up your sleeves, spotting your shoes under a heap of lunch trash and papers. The snickers and giggles grow louder and louder, a waste of the sound you wish you could emit yourself.

“ Flying super Satori kiiiiiiiiick! ”

A long leg snaps into view before a foot promptly smashes into the trash bin, knocking it sideways and spilling trash into the shoe locker entryway. Students jump aside, shouting in disgust while you gape in disbelief, staring at the pile of trash before your head snaps over to the criminal, eyes bulging.

Tendou stays crouched on the floor, sticking his tongue out and throwing you a peace sign from where he sort of crab walks beside you like some kind of creep, uncaring in how the other students gape at him like an alien. “How was that? Pretty cool, right? Ten points?”

You stare at Tendou, mouth slack.

His hands swipe out and he snatches your dirty shoes, shooting up to his full height and nearly forcing you to jump back in surprise. He grins at you, wiggling his brows before he grandly turns on his heels, your shoes in one hand while he loudly shouts with the other, “Oh, my goodness! Who made this mess? Someone better clean it up before a teacher comes!”

“Hey!”

“Tendou, what the heck you crazy bastard? You’re the one who knocked it—”

“Sorry,” Tendou shouts in horrible English. “I don’t speak Japanese!”

“Tendou—”

Tendou snatches your hand with his free one, breaking out into a gleeful sprint. You hurry to keep up after his long, lunging legs, practically huffing in exertion while Tendou holds your dirty shoes and he tosses his head back and laughs and you stare at him in disbelief, throat constricting tightly as you leave the other students and noise behind.

The evening glow turns his hair fiery and redder. Tendou’s laugh seems almost insane and infectious at the same time. It makes you feel a little hysterical, chest growing tighter. You can’t hear anything else but your own pants and his racket of laughter.

He runs with you in tow all the way to the volleyball gym, right where the two of you normally part ways and he goes to practice and you go home.

Tendou tosses your shoes into the nearby watering sink with a flourish, twirling on his heel like he’s dancing for you and moving his lanky body in all sorts of funny ways before he tosses the spout on and watches the water pour over your shoes, humming.

You stare at his broad back. You stare at it for what feels like an eternity, panting heavily, shoulders and legs trembling because you don’t do sports like this monster of a young man in front of you. Tendou turns the water off and turns to you with a peckish grin, twirling a bandaged finger. “Out of breath already? You should get into better shape, (L/n)-chan!”

Tendou fishes your soaking shoes out from the trough, gives it a quick inspection before nodding, flapping them out with one hand while he casually continues speaking, “You know, now that I think about it, the name was a bit cheesy. Maybe something like, Flying Kick of Justice or maybe—”

You quietly hold your arms out in front of you, spreading them a bit. Tendou arches a brow, looking at you with his little impish smile.

You take a few meaningful steps forward. Tendou doesn’t move, staying still until your face collides with his chest and you wrap your arms around him. Tendou just continues to smile, looking amused while you raise your hands and sign above your head at him.

“Thank you.”

“Oh, (L/n)-chan,” Tendou sighs, but he throws one arm around you anyway, patting your head. “You’re so awkward. Lucky for you, I’m great at dealing with verbally stunted people. My best friend hardly speaks a word after all!”

The door to the volleyball gym slides open, revealing none other than the superstar himself—Ushijima Wakatoshi. Tendou blinks and you look over at the volleyball legend, blinking as well.

“Tendou,” Ushijima says. “Practice in two minutes.”

Without another word the door slides back shut. You stare at it while Tendou breaks out into laughter. “See! What did I tell you?”

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

It’s three months into this—hanging out, getting to know each other, learning, communicating, becoming friends with Tendou Satori that you first notice.

You hadn’t meant to look in the first place since you didn’t think about soulmates and what-not often, but it just happened when Tendou was playing with your hair, trying to arrange it into a set of funky looking braids and you’d caught a glimpse at both his wrists.

You reach out, grabbing both of them in surprise. Tendou blinks over the top of your head, sitting cross-legged on your bed— “(L/n)-chan, invite me over! Let’s play some video games or read manga!” and he lets you pull his arms closer, quickly inspecting his wrists.

You blink rapidly, a little stunned. You look again and again to make sure what you were seeing wasn’t wrong and Tendou hums in amusement above you, letting you finish up until you finally look back at him, hands moving to sign, quick and clear.

“Tendou, you…” you pause, unable to finish moving your fingers.

“It’s blank! You’re not crazy, don’t worry,” Tendou says, finishing it for you. He proudly shows off his bare wrists and you stare at them a second longer before looking back to his face, brows creasing in worry. “Aw, don’t make that face, (L/n)-chan, you’ll get wrinkles!”

You know it’s possible, people not getting marks. Most people are all born with them—the first words your soulmate is supposed to say to you tattooed in simple ink onto your skin, always on your wrists, right there for anyone to see.

Tendou’s wrist are bare of any mark, not a single piece of ink in sight.

“I think you know better than anyone,” Tendou teases above you. “Words aren’t everything to a relationship, right~”

You smile at Tendou, but your chest still aches a little bit. Tendou’s strange, but he’s funny. He’s funny and kind. Very, very kind, even if he likes to act like he isn’t or seem worse than he really is. He deserves someone kind too, even if the statistics for actually meeting your soulmate are low.

You show Tendou your mark, a simple black V and nothing more. He stares at it, looking bewildered for once himself while you simply shrug back at him, holding up two fingers like a peace sign but as a V instead.

Tendou suddenly bursts into laughter. You stare at him, pouting in silence while he clutches his stomach, rolling around on your bed and wheezing.

“Well, (L/n)-chan, how about this,” Tendou says once his laughter dies down. “If you don’t like them, how about I take their place, hmm?”

You pretend to think it over for a bit. Tendou nudges your head with his foot and you swat it aside, turning over to him and pinching your fingers together in an okay sign.

“You’re so boring! Have more of a reaction, why don’t you? You know how hard I’m trying here?”

You smile at Tendou, chest full.

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

Maybe it’s not always that people do things for no reason to find a reason themselves.

Maybe these people just aren’t reasonable to begin with.

“Guys, look at how creepy this is! She’s writing all over it like she’s talking to herself—yikes!”

You stare at the three tormentors, frozen in place for a moment as you watch them flip through your notebook, fuller then it’s ever been. You watch them, second after second ticking as they laugh and point to the stacked conversations, the doodles and jokes and the pages stuffed full of proof that you and Tendou have built something, something dearly precious over the course of this year—

Two of them look at you and laugh, watching you at the entrance of the classroom. The last one holds up your notebook, her glossy lips moving, and then her perfectly manicured nails start ripping one of the pages.

It’s Tendou’s page. It’s terribly unlucky or lucky she picked that one. He’s written all over it, trying to be quiet that day.

“(L/n)-chan do ya get sick of me talking? People say I talk too much all the time.”

“No. I like it.”

“Aw, you’re just flirting!”

“No, I really, really like it.”

“Hahaha, then maybe I’ll talk enough for the two of us, hmm?”

You feel it tear all the way down to your bones.

“What a freak!”

Something snaps.

They clearly don’t see it coming when you go flying across the classroom, lunging for the monster with your notebook. Her eyes go round in disbelief and then furious anger when your hands find hers, ripping the book from her grasp as she fights you for it, shouting and cursing. Her two cronies are quick, grabbing at your hands and trying to haul you back but your mouth is parted in a soundless, furious scream, flailing your fists and hitting, pulling and tugging at them as you scream and scream and scream even though no words come out.

One girl nearly slaps you but you duck and shove your foot into her stomach, knocking her back into a desk.

You shout at them. Shout and shout and shout and shout . You imagine the words cutting them in half. Imagine how they’d feel hearing the horrible things spat right back into their face—

She looks up at you, eyes red with rage and the other two thrust your hands down, stomping on your feet to try and hold you down while she raises her hand to strike again.

“All three of you are ugly pigs! Don’t you have anything better to do with your lives? Did all your parents ever teach you to do is bully the quiet kid? That’s terrible! You’re all horrible!”

The shrill, overly high-pitched voice catches all four of you off guard, staring at each other, stunned. The three girls share quick looks, looking startled out of their minds while your shoulders heave, ragged from the panting and soundless screaming. You don’t understand—

Firm, large hands suddenly grab you by your waist, hauling you up into the air and away from the other two girls. You quickly grab your skirt from flying up and whirl around, eyes round in disbelief when Tendou’s sleazy, easy grin meets your gaze, his eyes crinkled.

Your already quiet world quiets further, soft and silent as you stare at him and he gazes back at you for a second, assessing your disheveled form before he promptly sets you down onto your feet behind him like you’re some kind of toy. Tendou even takes a second to brush some dust off your shoulder, fixing your jacket with a happy little hum before he ruffles the top of your head and grins at you.

His eyes are crinkled at the corners, narrowed into dangerous slits. You freeze.

“Don’t worry,” Tendou chirps. “I’ll speak for both of us~”

He turns around with a flourish, blocking your view of the three girls and holding his hands out. “Sorry, ladies! I know you all might want a piece of her, but as her manager, I’ve got to be her translator and I believe my client says—oh, yes, yes, I hear you loud and clear! She says you’re all a bunch of useless bimbos with too much time on their hands!”

You gape at Tendou, clasping your hands over your mouth even though no words come out. The three girls look stunned and Tendou sweeps on in his fake, shrill voice, “Your perfume smells cheap and your nails are so last season—wow! Did you get enough sleep? Your pores are huge!”

“Asshole!” a girl shouts.

“Tendou, you freak!”

“Tendou, what do you think you’re—” one girl starts but Tendou thrusts a finger out, pointing it right at her face.

“And now this one’s from me! ” Tendou says in his own voice, a little huskier than you remember, a little firmer, clearer, and he grins devilishly at the three girls. “So listen up, hmm?”

Your classmates always complain if there’s anything about Tendou, it’s that he tends to come off as a bit scary sometimes.

You’d never really thought so until now.

“Find something better to do,” Tendou says cheerfully, eyes narrowed into dagger thin slits as he brings one threatening hand up into the air. He smiles, dripping malice, “Or you’re going to regret it, okay?”

One girl swallows, looking ready to argue despite her ashen face. The other two grab her hands, furiously shaking their heads as they drag her away from the two of you, shooting you and Tendou glares. “Freaks! Both of you!”

They run anyway though when Tendou arches a dangerous brow at them, tails between their legs. You stare at the empty classroom door in disbelief, not quite able to wrap your head around the entire exchange or how all of this happened in so little time—

“Hmph, they can’t appreciate art when they see it,” Tendou complains loudly, dragging your attention back to him. He picks up your fallen notebook, flipping through the pages and idly smoothing out creases. “Girls like that are never going to get a boyfriend, don’t worry, (L/n)-chan. You’re much cuter than they are~”

Tendou.

There’s something loud pounding in your head. Maybe it’s your heart. You’re not really sure what it is in the quietness of it all as Tendou calmly turns to you, holding out your notebook.

Tendou.

Your fingers twitch. You feel your fingers moving, spelling out his name. Your mouth parts, breathing.

Tendou, thank —

He brings up one hand, winking at you in an expression that doesn’t fit his face at all while he throws up a peace sign, the same one he always does, just like when the two of you first met.

“Our victory this time~ If they try it again, I’m not afraid to block them! I’ve got a mean—”

You freeze.

Victory?

You stare at Tendou’s peace sign.

V.

Your brain short circuits for a second. Something like adrenaline starts to pump rapidly through your body and you gape in disbelief, turning your wrist around and staring at the large, bold V on your skin. Your parents always joked with you about the kind of situation you’d have to be in for the first word your soulmate ever said to you to be V , but what if it wasn’t a matter of saying it but—

Signing it?

You feel your heart almost stop. It kicks back into gear, loud like a set of drums. You quickly grab Tendou’s blank wrist, surprising him as he blinks curiously down at you. “Hmm? What’s gotten into you, (L/n)-chan—”

“Tendou!” you sign, cheeks flushing. “Tendou, this might sound crazy but—”

You grab your notebook, quickly flipping to a blank page and hurriedly writing onto it. Tendou blinks, looking playfully confused until you turn your page to him.

“I think we might be soulmates!”

Your heart threatens to burst out of your chest. Tendou stares at your page for what feels like eternity before he pushes it down with one long, bandaged finger. He grins at you over the top of your notebook, waggling his brows.

“(Y/n)-chan, are you trying to ask me out? You could’ve just said so~”

You toss your notebook to the desk, lunging at Tendou with your arms thrown wide, mouth parted in a soundless, desperate laugh and Tendou simply grins in that sneaky little way of his, looking as content as a cat as he wraps his arms around you anyway and hoists you up.

“Ara, was I found out?”

In your flurry you abruptly press your lips to Tendou's unable to contain your excitement or words, hands no longer enough. Tendou goes stiff, eyes round as saucers when you pull back and stare at him, beaming brightly and quickly signing. "You're so dumb!"

The top of Tendou's ears start to turn red. You stare at him in surprise, pressing a hand to your mouth.

"Tendou,"  you sign. "You're so honest."

"Bzzt! Wrong answer! Better kiss me again or I'll drop you."

Without hesitating you quickly duck your head in close and this time Tendou meets you have way with his cheeky grin, both your lips molding together in a kiss that floods with laughter, even though not a single sound escapes either of you.

----------

"I never said I didn't have one. My soulmate just doesn't have much to say~"

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

Bonus:

- Tendou gives you a whistle for when you go to his games. He always waits and then when his team scores or he blocks, a furious sound of tweets and whistles goes off, making everyone look up into the stands to find you, crazy-looking and furious waving your hands and blowing the whistle. Someone has to ask you to stop before it confuses the players. - Tendou collapses onto the floor, laughing so hard he starts to cry and Ushijima tells him he should give you a bell instead. "Bells are also soothing," he says. "Or a drum."

**** please don’t ever make fun of someone’s pores! I think I’d cry ;-;

[rickriordanfandam]

opinions on riordanverse ; my edition

a lot of people have been doing this so i decided why not right. probably gna lose some followers or smth but anyways. pls respect my opinions! if u disagree, thats fine, but please be polite. unless any of my opinions strikes u as morally wrong then pls point it out to me respectfully. thanks!

- i actually liked drew. im so sorry to everyone who hates her but full offence, why. think about it this way ok, first of all drew became hc because silena died. silena was the traitor, the one who betrayed chb, yet after she died campers celebrated her as a hero? and then drew suddenly has to replace her and live up to idk that legacy she left behind,, when all of a sudden this girl named piper swoops in and takes her place. idk abt u but i wld be salty abt that too. not only that, but as an asian, the chances of drew having faced racism/bullying as a child is pretty high (she studies at brooklyn academy). which means that when she finds out shes a demigod, and arrives at chb where most of the campers are white (this is an assumption btw), she’d obviously be scared of being bullied for her skin color right?? so the first thing she wld do before the campers get to bully her is to bully them before they can do so. (sentence structure here is wack i apologize) ofc this might not even have happened, drew could have had a perfect childhood && was a b1tch for no reason, BUT EVEN THEN HER ROLE AS A BULLY WAS PRETTY VITAL BECAUSE THAT FURTHER SHOWED THE CONTRAST BETWEEN HER AND PIPER,, HIGHLIGHTING PIPER AS A HERO//GOOD CHARACTER,, AND THEREFORE MAKING READERS LIKE PIPER MORE. anyway stop hating on drew please. ALSO WHY IS THIS SO LONGA SDFJHG

- jason isnt bland, the fandom just kinda erased his backstory (thanks to @pjohoo-memes for the phrasing lol)

- reynabeth wouldnt have lasted/would have broken up several times. idk i just see them as two extremely powerful characters who have firm opinions and will definitely clash at some point. in a platonic relationship,, i can see them as really good friends but as lovers? idk i just think theyll break up

- PIPABETH

- i dont really like jercy,, i see them as better friends than lovers. also idt jason and percy were that close..?

- the dam and not my type jokes are srsly cringey and were never funny. ik that seems hypocritical since my username literally makes use of the dam joke but honestly i dont actually like the joke. its not funny to me and has never been funny

- the seven were not best friends. they definitely argued,, and honestly probably werent as close as the fandom makes them seem. like ure dumped with 6 other people, out of which u only know a few. my introverted ass would have jumped off the argo 2 quicker than leo valdez could bomb camp jupiter up. also leo was a dick to frank. so what if frank is bigger sized?? thats not a valid reason to tease him

- the fandom needs to stop hating on octavian while worshipping luke. if u hate luke and u say u hate octavian too, then okay. but if u tell me ure a luke stan but u despise octavian?? imma disagree w u. luke was worse than octavian im sorry. first of all, octavian being a dick was kinda justified. hes been after the praetor position for so long, and everyone keeps saying to “wait for jason” when suddenly this dude, whos a son of NEPTUNE (neptune wasnt liked much by romans), and the camp decides to make him praetor?? dude i would be pissed off big time. and then afterwards, he finds out that greek demigods are real and the dude they made praetor is greek. AND THEN GREEK DEMIGODS COME TO CJ AND ONE OF THEM BOMB IT UP?? octavian has been told all his life that greeks are scum and this dude called leo valdez attacks cj. sure it was an accident, but did octavian know that? no. so it was honestly justified that he was such a salty prick im just saying. also some of yall be hating on octavian for cutting a teddy bear open and thats the funniest shit ive ever heard i swear 

- luke didnt go to elysium

- travis and connor stoll r way too underrated. the two have been head counselors of the hermes cabin since luke was revealed as a traitor, can u imagine the stress? luke, the person they probably looked up to as a brother, betrayed them. and they didnt even have time to process this when they were  thrown the roles of being hcs. that would have been so stressful and i would probably have broken down if i were them. the stoll brothers taking turns to wake up at ungodly hours because a new camper is crying and homesick and terrified, the stoll brothers having to comfort and take care of new campers, having to deal with the amount of people in that cramped space because not enough campers are being claimed fast enough. having to resolve issues between campers in the hermes cabin all the time. the stolls arent just comedic relief, and we need to stop treating them as such

- tratie shldve been canon idc idc

- demigods of the demeter cabin arent talked about enough and i love the fact that meg was demeters kid. like she isnt the child of one of the big three yet shes so powerful.

- we need to hype clarisse up more her character arc was phucking amazing 

- rachel is overhated. sis found out greek gods exist and regularly come down to earth to fuck around and went “ok cool”. queen shit behavior methinks

- the floor 19 crew of mcga is srsly underrated. like do u even remember halfborn gunderson, mallory keen, tj, etc??? bc i feel like we only remember samirah, magnus, alex, and sometimes blitz and hearthstone

- sadie (tkc) was kinda annoying at first. i like her more now tho but i rmb not liking her for a phat while

- tkc and mcga need more love

- carter kane and jason grace arent boring. theyre just really sweet boys who are too good for this world and yes yes yes 

- hazel and frank (especially frank) need to be hyped up more. i hardly ever see anything about them. also yall seem to forget that frank was literally made praetor and that even hecate admired hazel and was willing to fight beside her because of how powerful she was

- frazels age gap is kinda sketch but i still think theyre really cute

- nico definitely had trauma from going to tartarus on his own

- GROVER IS PERCYS BEST FRIEND

- annabeth isnt smarter than leo but neither is leo smarter than annabeth. ive seen a lot of discussions about who is smarter and heres my hot take on it: neither. theyre equally smart, just in different ways. leos a genius mathematically speaking. he has no issues solving math problems meant for people much, much older than him. annabeth on the otherhand, is great at strategies etc. she can make an army of 1000 more powerful than the enemy, even if theyre outnumbered. so in my opinion, both are equally as smart//u cant compare their intelligence, because their talents lie in two different areas.

- while i do agree rick riordan isnt a god and that hes bound to make mistakes,, AND that hes given us a lot of representation,, if the representation offends the people its sposed to represent, then theres a problem. im talking about piper as a poc and wearing feathers in her hair. im not a poc, so i cant speak for them on whether or not its wrong, because i dont know either. HOWEVER, i have seen multiple posts BY pocs talking about how they didnt really like rick’s representation of piper, and thats an issue. pocs have been and are still oppressed and discriminated against by many. as a white cis man, we cant really blame him for not knowing (tho he could have done a research,, asked some pocs,, idk), but by representing pocs in that manner, hes influencing impressionable kids/teens into thinking “oh pocs wear feathers in their hair all the time” etc, which isnt true. the pjo/hoo series is extremely successful, and kids who read the books will probably start forming inaccurate opinions on pocs. the amount of fan art that depicts piper with feathers in her hair dont help either. “but rick said so in the books, so its canon” yeah well rick isnt a god and he can get some things wrong at times. im not saying we should cancel him, im saying we should start educating ourselves and not spread false info like pocs wearing feathers in their hair all the time. also that snake song shit where she sang Summertime was just- yeah. bc heres the thing you can be racist, and still include minorities, but portray them in a racist way. And even then, ignorance isn't a thing to admire. Getting those facts wrong still has a major impact. It continues to perpetuate racist stereotypes.

“ With the feather thing, I looked it up myself; it takes less than five minutes to figure out that Cherokees don't braid feathers into their hair. I didn't grow up in the country where my parents are from. I have many other first/second generation American friends who have also been through that, with a bit of a disconnect from their culture. But something that most of us have in common is that when we didn't know something, and when our parents weren't that big of a help, we looked it up. We sought out resources online and through other people from our culture to be able to connect more with where we came from. Some of that took a Google search. So I find it hard to believe that Piper, a girl who Rick's trying to portray as someone who is attempting to connect with her culture and is totally against racist stereotypes, wouldn't know that eagle feathers aren't supposed to be braided into your hair casually. She may be disconnected from her culture, but she's also shown to want to connect back to it. Piper wouldn't be casually braiding feathers into her hair while also telling off people for being racist. It makes no sense.” - reddit thread (down below) 

for those of yall who wanna know more please please read this, it has a lot of things i wanna add in here : https://www.reddit.com/r/camphalfblood/comments/gy3gl2/piper_mcleans_portrayal_is_innacurate/ 

as well as https://finding-my-culture.tumblr.com/post/189422373260/maxie-ratties-and-cattie-finding-my-culture 

i will be posting screenshots of these in future posts so if ure viewing this on ig and u dont have tumblr,, dont worry 

- the fact that most of the strong female characters in the series refuse to be “girly”, and ngl i dont really like that. just because ure girly doesnt mean u cant be strong. 

- piper would have been a great way for him to start making the strong characters act girlier, but instead he went with the “I’m not like other girls” trope which is quite obnoxious to hear constantly, and I don’t think it’s necessarily great for younger girls to read that idea growing up.  the closest we've ever had to a strong female character who was also into "girly" things was Silena. when I was younger I admired Piper's "I'm not like other girls" thing, but then I got older and realized that the whole mentality of "not like other girls" is super obnoxious, and a little bit toxic

i have a heck load more that i cant rmb rn but yeah feel free to add more 

[jpegjade]

insecure! - Spencer

we’ve got some insecurities in the house!! this is fic 2 of the day so i feel okay with things again. it’s another fluffy ending and some honesty.

request: ((I CANT FIND IT ON MY PAGE SO IM PARAPHRASING)): Could you do a fic where the reader is insecure and Spencer figures it out?

________________________

“Y/n, why don’t you like yourself?” Spencer asked, looking up at you. 

You and Spencer were sitting in the coffee shop, both of you writing. Spencer was writing something by hand but didn’t want you to know so you didn’t bother as you continued to type on your computer. You were in the middle of finishing incomplete paperwork for your boss, who graciously stacked files on your desk to do instead of his actual assistant’s desk. 

“What makes you think I hate myself, Spencer?” You said, not looking up. 

You were purely focused on the document in front of you, wondering where some of these random words came from. There were words that you knew didn’t belong anywhere on the report and yet, here they were. This had to be the work of his assistant because your boss might be dumb but he wasn’t this stupid. 

“Not hate, that’s different. You don’t like yourself. Why?” Spencer looked up from what he was writing on paper. 

You never tried to read Spencer’s horrendous penmanship because it was just terrible sometimes, especially when he was rushing or tired. But you knew how to read it when you cared to look at it. Quickly glancing over the paper, upside down from where you were sitting across from him, all you could see was the word, ‘wow,’ which meant he was writing his letter to his mom. 

“What has gotten into you? I like myself just fine” You asked, looking at his sweater vest. It had a weird pattern on it. 

“You’re avoiding the question.” Spencer was being persistent and it was getting on your nerves. 

You looked at Spencer, finally making eye contact. You were pretty sure there was something bothering him but you didn’t know what it was and you didn’t want to pry in Spencer’s life if he didn’t want to tell you what it was. 

Spencer had been acting weird the entire time the two of you were together today. He didn’t have a case, just doing paperwork at the office so he got off early. He immediately wanted to hang out with you, no matter where it was. 

“What’s wrong?” You squinted at him.

“Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to know since you don’t look at your reflection often, if ever.” Spencer was so matter-of-fact when he wanted to be. 

“Just because I don’t want to look at my reflection, you assume I hate myself?” You lowered your computer screen a little bit so Spencer could see your face. 

“Not hate. Again, that’s a completely different conversation.” Spencer studied your face intensely. 

“Spencer, are you really making me justify myself to you? Are you actually starting this over me not particularly liking what I see when I look at myself?” You said through gritted teeth. “Do I really need to appease the good doctor with an explanation?” 

“I would like an answer so yes.” Spencer obviously didn’t pick up on the sarcasm. Or if he did, he was blatantly ignoring it. 

“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t cooperate. I just don’t like how I look most of the time. I think my face is all wrong, misshapen in some areas. I see myself and I think about how I’m not… Right. I’m just wrong and looking at my reflection is a reminder of that.” You said, unable to look at Spencer. You looked at the hot barista behind the counter who wasn’t paying attention to you at all. 

“Okay. And why don’t you like the rest of you? Why don’t you like who you really are?” Spencer pressed a little bit more. You didn’t know why but he was on a tear today. 

“Spencer, what are you trying to do? Remind me of everything I work so hard to shove down every day? Fine. I will tell you. I’m dumb. I can’t keep up with anyone because my head is wired differently than any normal person. I have one friend. Everyone else left me because I was too much to handle, according to each of them. I’m a quitter. Things get hard and I shut down without any explination. I’m the literal definition of a loser and you wouldn’t get any of that because you’re… You. You walk into any given room and you’re automatically the smartest person there. You’re qualified for everything under the sun and you’re sure as hell beautiful. You really wanna know why I don’t remotely like myself, Spencer? I’m a bottom feeder. And compared to you? I might as well not exist.” You finished with a sigh. 

Spencer looked stunned into silence, which was rare but possible. He was absolutely astounded to hear everything you just listed put together, in one descriptionn. He wasn’t expecting this but you weren’t expecting his rebuttle, either. 

“Do you really believe that, all of that, about yourself?” Spencer asked. 

“I wouldn’t say it for shits and giggles, Spencer.” You leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms. 

“Oh.” There was a silent pause in the crowded coffee shop. It was quite loud and you weren’t sure if it had always been that noisy or if the noise grew louder over the past couple minutes. 

“Well believe me when I say this…” Spencer leaned forward over the table and you huffed before leaning forward to listen to Spencer. 

“I wish I was you.” He said before leaning back in his chair. His hands were tapping on the table nervously. 

“You what? Spencer, that's one sick joke after having me open up to you.” You said, sitting back and rolling your eyes. 

“I’m serious. I would trade lives with you in a heartbeat most of the time.” He said, nodding his head. 

“Are you on something? Tell me you’re not back on drugs, Spencer.” You said in all seriousness. 

“No, y/n. I would switch lives with you and I’ll tell you why.” He took a breath, 

“You’re versatile. You can blend in or stand out, depending on how you feel at that moment. You have the choice to try or not when it comes to impressing people. You can stun them immediately or you can let them be amazed gradually. I will always be the baby of any group and I need to work three times as hard to get a note of recognition that I’m in the room, even if they’re impressed with my credentials. People like you. They may not stick around all the time but who needs them? They like you because you have a way with people that I clearly don’t have. You don’t have to pretend that snide comments or getting shut down in the middle of a thought you’re excited about doesn’t bother you. All these things and more. I wish I could be you.” 

“Spencer...” You reached your arm across the table to put on top of his fidgeting hand. 

“You aren’t the only one who wishes things were different, y/n. We just have to accept that the things we hate about ourselves may be the reason someone falls in love with us or it might be the deciding factor in a friendship. Some of the things you hate brought me to loving you because I think about them differently. If someone is supposed to be in your life, they won’t make you feel like there’s any reason to hate yourself because you’re special to them. Not just the parts that they want, all parts of you are special. And y/n, all of you is special to me, whether you like it or not.” Spencer smiled. 

“Doctor Reid, did you just say you loved me?” You said, teasing him. 

“I was speaking generally.” He said, trying to backtrack. It was too late. 

“You generally meant me though, right?” You continued. He looked happy again. 

“Yes, y/n, I meant you. I do love you.” Spencer said with a big, cheesy smile.

[devaigh]

The Winner ~Chapter 8

A/N: This chapter is raw and unedited. Sorry for any mistakes. 

Previously || 1. 2. 3. 4.  5. 6. 7. 

Sassenach,

It feels like forever since I held you in my arms, though I know it has only been a month. I don't know how I'm to survive now without you. I find myself awake at night, reaching for you, only to remember myself. It pains me knowing the year is still ahead of us. I confess, since you have shared my bed, I don't sleep well without you. Call me what you will, but it is true. I miss you, mo nighean donn.

Life in the service is no longer what it once was for me. I am ready to finish, so we may truly start our lives together. I pray that day shall come quickly.

As it stands, the days are long. There is a layer of fine dust that has settled over the camp. I taste nothing but the dry air, I feel the grit against my skin, and I find myself shaking out everything I own. It never helps.

The days are hot, and the nights, dangerous. There are small villages my team has encountered, while they are not hostile, they are wary. I don’t blame them. I have picked up some of the language and I try to communicate though it seems like the people pretend to not understand.

I hope your schooling is going well. Know that I'm proud of you. I cant wait to see you realize your dream. I love you, mo chridhe. I'll write you again soon.

Yours,

Jamie.

***** 

Brianna frowned, playing with the corner of the paper as she read over the letter once more. The faded yellow page had been carefully tucked away inside the the worn journal that lay open on the desk before her.

It didn't make any sense. How could two people who seemingly loved each other live half their lives apart? What happened to make her parents not speak for 20 years?

And what of this little brother? What was he like?

Did he know about her?

“Of course not.” she whispered aloud. Clearly, she wasn't thinking straight. Jamie had said that he himself had no idea she existed prior to getting her letter, so why would this mysterious sibling?

It was all so complicated.

She groaned. Not only had she gone and invited her father to her wedding, who had actually shown up no less, but Brianna had now openly welcomed Jamie's son to join the festivities.

A brother.

How was she to explain that to her mother?

After learning about the boy, Brianna had excused herself from the rest of the party. The noise of the crowd lingering around her had made her head throb so she sought refuge upstairs. Once she had procured herself a rather healthy glass of wine, she rummaged around her desk looking for the old book bound in aged leather.

Her mother's journal.

It seemed like ages since she had found it, tucked away in a box in the back of the attic. Her mother had been on call one weekend leaving Brianna alone, tasked with clearing out the musty old room. A storm had come through and damaged part of the roof of their house, and repairs were needed. A whole section of the roof had needed replaced and part of the attic had started to leak. So Brianna had taken it on to try to clear out what she could.

Somewhere, beyond a huge stack of boxes that had once belonged to her Great Uncle Lambert, past even more stacks of boxes and an old crib, sitting next to what looked like a giant bird cage, was a single, small box simply labeled Boston. It was in that box that Brianna had discovered the journal.

Brianna had barely remembered Boston. Even though she had been born there, and lived for the first several years of her life in the city, it wasn’t home. Curious, Brianna opened the box and found the thin, leather bound book. There had been no title. Nothing to show what it was. Only when she had flipped it open to the middle, had she realized what she had found. At first, she felt a twinge of guilt for reading something so private, but she found that she couldn't stop herself. She had discovered an old diary her mother had kept, years before she was born. Most of the entries were simple, others were long winded excerpts that mentioned a man named James Fraser.

It came as no surprise to learn that Fraser, or Jamie, as her mother had called him, was her birth father. Brianna knew that her mother had been married to a man named Frank Randall when Brianna was born, but she had learned the truth about the man years ago. She knew that Frank couldn't have been her biological father thanks to a lab experiment in junior high. When Brianna had compared her blood type to her mother's and the man who she had though was her dad, she had learned there was no possible chance Frank could have fathered her. Brianna had never told her mother about what she knew however. Frank had always been a subject that Claire avoided. That was why the journal was such a surprise to find. With each page, Brianna had found more questions to go along with those that had been burning through her mind. Attic forgotten, she had slid down the wall to sit on the floor, caught up in the need to discover anything about the man who really had fathered her.

There had been so little to go on. Only his name, and the fact that he was Scottish military. Which had suddenly opened a whole world of questions up. Where was her father? Was he still alive? Would she be able to find him? Did he know she existed? Had he wanted her? Or rather, had he even cared? What were his reasons for leaving them? Who was this man who had left her mother alone and pregnant? What had happened between them?

As it turned out, James Fraser was still very much alive. Alongside the journal, Brianna had found a small stack of bound letters, held together with simple string. Delicate, fragile things, the envelopes were sticking together. Bree had picked through them, one by one, her fingers tracing the tight, cramped writing scrawled across the front of them.

She still had them. All 15 letters. They now lived in a box she had stashed away, carefully under lock and key. The box, was a simple wooden thing, she had also picked out of the attic. It was now sitting in the bottom drawer of her desk. Chewing on her bottom lip, she glanced down at the drawer in question. Roger didn't even know she had them.

She looked again at the letter in her hands. Something had happened between her parents, that much was obvious. And Brianna was determined to find out exactly what it was.

But first, she needed to find her mother.

******

He wanted to shake her.

James Fraser had never been the most patient of people. His hot temper was always quick to flair, but he wasn't one to start hitting people, even if they were trying on his nerves.

But ah Dhia, did he want to hit something.

"Claire, please. Just let me explain.."

"Explain! What is there to explain, Jamie? I SAW the announcement! You looked rather happy for a dead man!" Claire huffed, her hands curled into fists. "I grieved for you! Knowing you were dead I tried to honour your memory only to discover you LIED to me!"

"ENOUGH!" He roared, crossing the distance between them as his large hands took hold of her shoulders. "Claire! Listen to me, damn ye! I know ye think the worst of me, and ye have every right too, but it's no true!"

"Let go of me, you damn Bloody...Scot!" She bit off, trying to push him away. It was to no avail, he was still so much stronger than she was.

"No. No until ye agree to listen to what I have to say."

Claire glared at him, her mouth set in a firm line.

"Dammit Claire, there's things I need to tell ye!"

Jamie looked away for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "I'm no the same man ye once knew, but I swear to ye, I never would have hurt ye, had I been able."

"You were dead, Jamie." Claire said, her voice wavered, hiding years of heartbreak. "You were dead, and I was alone, pregnant with your child. Then I discovered you not only alive, but married to another woman. What the hell was I supposed to think?"

Jamie frowned. "It's true I nearly died. I came damn close to it. But I dinna ken how ye believed I was dead."

“I received a letter.” She hissed.

Well, that was news.

"A letter?" Jamie gripped her shoulders tighter. “What letter?”

Claire narrowed her eyes. “The letter that was addressed to your fiance, informing me of your death!’’ She shook her head, chewing on the corner of her lip. “I didn’t know I was your fiance.”

Jamie felt the color drain from his face. “I.. well..”

“You what, just decided that on your own? “

“No. I...”

“You leave for war, leaving me pregnant and alone then what, fake your own death so you can run off and marry someone else?”

“That’s no what happened! Claire, If you would just let me explain!”

“It doesn’t matter Jamie, I don’t want to talk about it.” She turned away “There’s nothing more to say.”

She took a deep breath, in an attempt to steady herself. A soft chime rang out in the distance, the melodic tune of the local village clock.

It was midnight.

“Claire.” Jamie reached out to her, His hand hesitating over her shoulder. “I ken ye’re angry with me. Ye have every right to be. But I beg ye, to just listen to what I have to say.”

She turned then, giving him a cold stare.

“I’m no asking for yer forgiveness lass, I just wanted ye to know the truth.”

Claire regarded him for one long moment. She could see the vulnerability in his face, and his eyes…

How often had she dreamed of his eyes?

She could feel her resolve cracking, the wall she had built around her heart starting to crumble. ‘Damn him’ she thought, as color rose in her cheeks. Jamie had always had this gift of undoing her with just a look. It was infuriating.

“How…” she started, hating the way her voice caught. “How do I know what you tell me isn’t just what you think I would want to hear?”

She met his eyes again as a muscle twitched in his jaw. A flutter of movement caught her attention as she realized he was tapping his fingers against his thigh. It was a gesture she recognized.

“Claire.” Jamie spoke softly, though his voice sounded tight. “I swear to ye, I’ll no lie to ye. I dinna ken if I have all of the facts, but I promise ye, I’ll share everything I know.”

*****

The walk back from the beach was a long one.

The wind had picked up bringing with it the promise of rain, causing both Jamie and Claire to seek shelter in the warmth of the beach house. While there was still much left unspoken between them, the silence between them had changed.

He watched her, her pale face half hidden as she walked just ahead of him. Her arms were folded against her chest, keeping the shawl tucked around her shoulders. Her eyes were distant, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as a wrinkle formed across her brow. It was several long moments before she spoke again.

“I don’t know, Jamie.”

Her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, yet Jamie remained silent, sensing her need to speak.

“I don’t know if I want to hear what you have to say.”

“Sassenach..” he began, one hand automatically reaching for her arm before seeing the glare aimed over her shoulder at him.

“You were dead, Jamie. I mourned for you.” She stopped again, just shy of the stone courtyard. “I had waited for you to come back. I was so lost. All while I was raising your daughter, alone.”

“Aye, I believe ye, Sassenach. And ye did a fine job of raising the bairn, I’m sure.”

Claire’s mouth set into a firm line. “Jamie, I would really, rather not talk about the past. Can we just get through this wedding? I still don’t know why you’re here, or what Brianna was thinking this would turn out to be, but can we just get this over with, and go back to our own lives?”

The look on her face was enough to crush his spirit.

“I swear to ye, Claire, I didn’t know.”

You didn’t know? Do you really think I can believe that?” She rolled her eyes. “That’s all you can say? That you didn't know?"

“No. Listen to me, Claire! I told ye that I didn’t remember! I didn’t remember my own name, much less anything else. Do ye know what it’s like to live as a shell, not knowing who ye are, or what you’re doing? How it feels like half of your heart, your very soul is missing?

“Do I know? DO I KNOW? Yes! Damn you! I spent TWENTY YEARS mourning you! Angry at you that you left me, alone, pregnant and you have the nerve to...to…

“Now ye listen to me, Claire..”

“NO! How DARE you show up here, to MY daughter’s wedding and..”

“She’s MY daughter, too, Claire.”

“Oh you may have created her, but you certain-”

‘’Brianna INVITED me here, She asked me to come, and you-”

"SHE can hear you!”

Whatever Claire had been about to say caught in her throat. Both Jamie and Claire froze, like they had just been doused with a bucket of water.

Standing in front of the french doors, stood Brianna, looking livid, the color in her cheeks nearly the same shade as her hair. She glanced between both of her parents who stood inches from each other, watching as both seemed to shrink a bit before her.

Jamie’s throat moved, and he cleared his throat, “A neighan, I’m-”

“Yelling loud enough to wake the entire house? I could hear the two of you from my window!”

“Bree..”

“NO. Stop! I don’t know what happened between you two, or why you;re both arguing. But this isn’t the time or the place! There's a storm coming and both of you need to get inside!"

Jamie and Claire looked at each other for a moment before they both moved towards the door.

"It's clear we need to talk. All THREE of us."

"Yes, dear." Claire said as she passed her daughter. "The sooner the better."

Jamie hung back, for just a moment, watching the two women.

"Lead the way, a neighan"