#ONLY to spite me. i swear to god if i get home and i can't put in my fucking words bc of how my body feels i'm gonna freak. i am SO CLOSE TO

[gentlethorns]

jesus christ i hate my body. it's like owning a shitty used car all over again except that I CAN'T SELL IT AND BUY A NEW ONE. unless you would classify orthopedic surgery as doing that and even then that's far in the future and does me no good whatsoever right now

#she bork #tbd #i try to love my body. i really do. i don't like the way it looks but i could get past that and appreciate its function IF IT WERE #FUNCTIONAL. which it is not. #no idea whether my body is punishing me for throwing the truck yesterday or buckling under the hormonal strain of my upcoming cycle or just #deciding to be a dick but the bottom line is that i am exhausted and my body hurts so bad. my wrist my thumb my legs my neck everything. i'm #even having a recurrence of the nerve problems i had in my foot neck in like. TWENTY-TWENTY-ONE. why why why why why. why does my body exist #ONLY to spite me. i swear to god if i get home and i can't put in my fucking words bc of how my body feels i'm gonna freak. i am SO CLOSE TO #THE END DO NAWT NERF ME AT THE FINISH LINE #*my foot BACK in like 2021 lol. even my typos mock me #jesus i just can't emphasize enough how fucking bad my body hurts. my wrist and thumb feel like they have fucking ground glass in them (idk #about my wrist but ik my thumb has a bone spur and that's probably close enough lol). my foot feels like someone is stabbing it w a dull #knife right in that tender spot by the inner ankle bone and making it ache. i feel fucking exhausted and a little sick? idk how even just #like Not Good or like just Off. and i'm STILL at work and then tomorrow i STILL have to run the truck again and then i'm finally off #thursday. jesus fucking christ if i have to spend all weekend sleeping to get over this bullshit i am gonna be SO mad

[beingfacetious]

please give us the correct negative Ted lasso review

Oh my God. This feels like a trap but I can't help it

update from the other side, this is no joke 2k words long and it's not uh happy lmao so dead dove do not eat

TL;DR:

Bill Lawrence's involvement lessened every season and it fuckin' shows

There were arcs and plot points established over the first two seasons that the writers very obviously just changed their minds about for this season

Takes about this season being dark/ending sad on purpose are MUCH too generous. like giving WAY too much credit.

It turns out most of my feelings boil down to "it's not aggressively bad it's just nonsensical"

How tf was every episode twice as long as in previous seasons but everything important happened offscreen

FIRST OF ALL, since MONTHS before the season started airing, I've nursed a conspiracy theory that Bill Lawrence left the show because of creative differences with Jason Sudeikis and that therefore this season would be significantly less good than previous seasons. This started when I saw Bill tweet that he was going home, basically, and I figured we'd get "season 3 is in post" news shortly thereafter but instead there was that weird stuff about things being delayed because of rewrites...? Anyway, that is mostly to say that I was ready to think this season was worse because I love Bill Lawrence's storytelling and have forever and you should give Cougar Town a shot if you haven't yet it's no Scrubs but it's sweet

There were interviews early in the show in which I swear Jason/Brendan/whoever said they pitched the show to Bill because he's fuckin' good at TV and he basically said "this is a great idea but you're writing to the wrong ending, it should be this," and they were like "wow you're right that is a better ending." I can't find that now but I did find this from a more recent Bill interview:

I ran that show the first year because Jason was still shooting movies while we were doing the writers room. Then, at the end of that year, much like Gary with me, I was like, “Ah, I’ll spend a couple of months teaching him how to edit.” But after like a day or two, he’s like, “Yeah, I got it.” (Laughs.) So, the second year, we ran it together, and I’m only able to do other things now because that guy ran the show himself the third year, as it should be. It’s his voice and his world this season.

Now look, Bill Lawrence is obviously not trying to throw shade here because he's lovely and also this is a Hollywood Reporter article and how immature would that be, but I can throw shade for him and I will: Jason Sudeikis is a talented comedic actor and seems like a very nice man and he had a good idea for a show, and his instincts to involve an extremely experienced showrunner with an insane talent for feelsy found family sitcoms were good and he should have stuck to them!! Telling Bill Lawrence you're good after two days of editing instruction or whatever is stupid!! Insisting on your voice and your world when BILL LAWRENCE'S VOICE IS AVAILABLE TO YOU and also you CO-CREATED THE WORLD whatever gdi

OK fine I'll do Ted/Rebecca next. Obviously I was in for Ted/Rebecca. I wanted them to put their faces together. But look, I'm not a shipper over all else; over all else I want a good storyteller to tell me the story they want to tell. If I expect things or see them coming, that's not bad! That's good! If I'm surprised by things, that's good too as long as it holds together! "Subverting expectations" shouldn't look like spiting the audience, a lie is not a twist, etc. SO. If Ted and Rebecca were meant to be platonic soulmates, that's fine!!! I don't NEED them to kiss!!! But I do not believe these people are even friends in season 3, after season 1 and tbh most of my favorite parts of season 2 were about how much they impact each other's lives. That's a dropped ball and there's NO REASON to have not made time for them to interact meaningfully because every episode was so fucking long. Instead I guess we had to know how super sad Rebecca was about not being able to have children but not need to talk to anyone about it and immediately be fully over it. Also see a lot of lingering shots of Rebecca...looking at a matchbook...

sfjbkfgs early in the season they very obviously established that Rebecca's arc was going to be realizing she actually loves the team and wants to support them and see them succeed because of her own heart and not to spite Rupert, and I guess that happened but why didn't it happen gradually in ways I could see, why did it happen in an episode in which I'm supposed to have known all along that this has to do with her childhood self ?? and in which Rupert has a FULL personality change to facilitate her sudden realization. In what fucking world would he invite her to that meeting, because she's smart or because she brings ~diversity or because maybe he wants to sleep with her again? None of it tracks at all lmao but it was also the episode in which I really enjoyed Tony Head so whatever

speaking of not tracking, Nate.........I've never been invested in Nate especially but he was SO cartoonishly evil at the start and then kind of never again. I was braced for a redemption arc I wouldn't care about but that didn't even really happen?? he got a girlfriend and realized Rupert was a bad role model? it turns out his dad thinks he was a prodigy and always just wanted him to be happy, which, lmao WHAT where????? and what am I supposed to believe about Jade changing her mind about him btw because she's seen people be terrible to him at that very table before AND she has to know he loves the place and the food because he's there all the time, so what was the revelation that turned her from relatable-via-Nate-ambivalence to suddenly heart-eyes just fdslelugatw so much of my feeling about this season isn't even like it's bad it's just it's nonsense

One of my big complaints about the season is just Keeley's whole deal. Separating her from the team/rest of the cast was a wild choice. Barbara is fine but I also would have been perfectly fine without her and none of the other new characters for the PR side story added anything to the show. Especially if at the end Rebecca is just going to write Keeley a check for the chump change she needs to run the agency. Why didn't we just do that to begin with??? I guess this season I'm supposed to think Keeley ~learned to be independent in various ways but, again, I don't ?? And her needing to not be with Roy I guess as part of that and then get back together offscreen but then not really be together maybe but then also possibly having throuple vibes later that never get acknowledged feels, whatever, like something Bill Lawrence didn't write sdfjlsefaj,lwte I know this is my unsupportable argument that post I RBed was making fun of but idc

also Jamie wanting to be with Keeley at the end of the show feels extremely Harry Potter epilogue to me lmao Jamie you don't have to marry someone you went to high school with there are so many people

Roy was fine this season. He didn't have much to do but that's probably for the best lol. Him taking Ted's job is probably the only main character ending I feel like makes sense for this season and the overall show. Him training and begrudgingly becoming friends with Jamie was always funny.

OK one of the wrong reviews was basically like if you don't appreciate this season you don't appreciate classic tragic structure. Fuck off with that. First of all this was a sitcom about soccer so even if they were going for a classic tragedy in season 3 that's stupid and they shouldn't have been. But I also just don't think that's what was happening ??? I think I'm supposed to believe everyone gets a happy ending and I just don't. Like the whole oh it's sad that Ted ends up where he started and it's about how persistent optimism and kindness can burn you out or whatever, that's...if that's what they were going for, again, why tf, and also could we have seen that like. at all. Ted barely Teds for anyone this season (frex the previously mentioned never talking to Rebecca). ROY Teds more than Ted in season 3. If we got to see Ted trying to Ted even, like, twice, and either not being able to dig down and find the positivity or I guess noticing that he needs someone to be that for him, OK, fine. A Ted/Keeley scene would have been a PERFECT vehicle for this. Didn't happen. idk if we're supposed to think he's getting back together with Michelle but that would be so...so bad ??? like what about Tan Lines??? why even have Tan Lines??? even if not, we just left completely unaddressed her starting a relationship with their marriage counselor, which is also BAD lmao. God why did I have to see so much of Michelle this season. Michelle video calls every other episode and two lines for Dr. Sharon. Nonsense. lol one of my friends summarized Ted's ending as "yeah going back to the unfulfilling life that didn't work before the show started is a victory for our protagonist"

Even the soccer of it all re that whole thing was silly. Oh marriage counselor boyfriend is a bad guy because he doesn't care about the soccer game. Oh Ted is happy now because he's coaching Henry's rec league soccer team. like it's fine that EVERYONE is still together in Richmond but he's "home" now and still around soccer which is good because we definitely saw him learn to love soccer during the course of the show. sure Jan

(to be fair I am not the audience for "it's about the kid" plots so even if I felt like it worked from the start of the show for Ted to choose moving back to where Henry is, which I don't, I wouldn't care for it, so maybe those criticisms aren't especially valid) (I didn't care about JD's kid either)

speaking of the soccer though every single scene that revolved around the actual soccer team was essentially perfect. Great use of so many of those boys. Very few notes. Sam in particular had a few nice things this season and of course Colin. Another incorrect review by a critic I actually like very much was complaining about Colin's story this season and it being tired and overdone and not caring about Trent's or Isaac's parts of it, but I actually really disagree! It was well done and it was nice to see in the context of professional sports where, sorry, coming out and being received well is not a cliche thing that happens a lot! Also, hot take! Zava was a good part of this season! Nice contained little story that impacted some characters I actually care about plus he was legit funny! Sometimes things in a comedy should be funny! I'd honestly watch three more seasons of Richmond-focused half-hour episodes with idk probably Brett Goldstein in charge

I haven't mentioned Beard because I just never understood what I was supposed to think about him lmao. By far the funniest character overall but I never felt settled on whether he was meant to be a manic pixie comic relief BFF or if he was like...a real person?? It strikes me as potentially bad that he was so worried about Ted's mental state all the time and never really mentioned his own and that was sort of a thing in the weird s2 episode but then not again? I felt so much ire about so much else I didn't have any for him marrying Jane lmao but I do understand the people who are upset about that because that sure seemed pretty toxic, but wasn't it supposed to be played for laughs? Does that fit in a show that's supposed to mainly be about people treating each other well because we're all we've got? idk, RIP Beard, sorry your best friend in the world wasn't at your wedding because it would have been narratively underwhelming to see him leave and then see him back at a future major event or whatever

idk idk, season 1 Rebecca was one of my favorite characters ever and I was so angry in the middleish of the season about how much I felt like she was being wasted, but by the end I was just like...I mean, what's to be mad at. She's not even her anymore. Ted wasn't Ted anymore. Nate I guess literally reverted back to season 1 Nate which also is that...okay...him ending up lower than he started out feels not great

Good for Mae and the bar boys though, used just the right amount this and every season and always a damn delight

OK this is ridiculous I'm going to be done now. I do want to say I enjoyed several episodes this season a lot! A couple top 10 potentials! I really enjoyed the Amsterdam one actually because it reminded me of like a Nancy Meyers movie, very nice and warm, but it feels worth noting that that is not a feeling I would describe as being struck by fucking lightning :))))))

in conclusion maybe we as a nation can move on now from giving SNL alumni we find charming huge budgets and ethereally talented casts and collaborators and letting them get us emotionally invested in their midlife crises sandbox playing

#be warned that this is truly absurdly long and very very little of it is positive #so if you don't want to read 2k negative words about the soccer show that is perfectly fine #thank u anon for this opportunity to be a buzzkill on my own blog something i am weirdly hesitant to do unprompted #maybe this will be the final exorcism of these feelings and i can ~move on lol #life of catey #i didn't like the uh back half ish of barry either but i don't feel this strongly about it lmao

[munchmemes]

mckenna grace lyrics, all songs edition

❛  what did you do with the photo strip you used to use as a book mark? did you throw it away? or do you keep it safe in a drawer with your socks and my broken heart?  ❜

❛ i tried to read the signs but you left me in the dark. ❜

❛ i told you i'm not a casual kisser. ❜

❛ i guess you're a casual quitter. ❜

❛ you said you would love me until the bitter end and you didn't lie. the end was bitter. ❜

❛ i fell for your lines, i fell for your charm. i hate to think that you were just playing a part. ❜

❛ even at my best, i'm a constant mess. ❜

❛ i can't sleep at night, nothing i do is ever right. ❜

❛ the voices in my brain on a megaphone saying 'you're so mediocre, you're a loser, you're a joker. who are you trying to kid?' ❜

❛ i'm so mediocre, i don't measure up to no one. ❜

❛ i'm not perfect, i'm a screw up. who could love me like this? ❜

❛ so much potential. was it accidental? god hid it somewhere in me that i can't reach. ❜

❛ i'm such an ugly crier. ❜

❛ wait, where are we? ❜

❛ you always order like a ten year old the sweetest thing they sell. ❜

❛ you're such a liar. ❜

❛ liar, liar. words on fire. ❜

❛ you say you miss me but i don't believe it. if you did, you'd be reaching out. ❜

❛ i don't want to hear it, i don't want to see it. ❜

❛ i don't want to hear you, i don't want to see you. only thing you're good for is disappearing on me. ❜

❛ chew me up then spit me out then leave me lying on the ground. that's a low blow, even for you. ❜

❛ you're in my head and you're in my blood and when i'm dead, you'll probably dig my grave up too. ❜

❛ my stupid heart was in your hands. ❜

❛ i should have known better, that you're a backstabber but how could i have known? ❜

❛ your words are made of daggers and cherry lip smacker. ❜

❛ i'm just gonna hold my breath 'cause all you do is make me sick. you even ruined air for me. ❜

❛ i swear you exist just to spite me. ❜

❛ i'm your cigarette so gaslight me. ❜

❛ are you happy now that i'm so miserable? ❜

❛ sadly, your love was conditional. you liked to pick me apart like daisies. ❜

❛ [you/they] left me crying in the bathroom on my birthday. ❜

❛ i wish i never even met [you/them] in the first place. ❜

❛ it's almost impressive how much you still stress me out. ❜

❛ it's honestly depressing how much [you/they] can bring me down. ❜

❛ you almost had me with your shallow flattery. ❜

❛ do i look fondly through our texts? do i still have your picture on my desk? would i do it all again? no, i hate you and i never want to see your face again. ❜

❛ i deleted all our photos and i love it cause it's like we never met. ❜

❛ i don't know why i try to be honest in a room full of sharks and piranhas. ❜

❛ all these people i don't know and i don't even smoke. i should just go. ❜

❛ how can i be myself? i don't know who i am. ❜

❛ i just can't do parties. ❜

❛ i'm crying in a taxi. ❜

❛ my phone is dying. i just need someone to take me home. ❜

❛ i just get this sick in my stomach. i need to go outside 'cause i'm nauseous. ❜

❛ are you human or just programmed to deceive? ❜

❛ i'm trying to see if you ever did care about me. ❜

❛ i say i don't but i really do miss what we almost could've had. ❜

❛ i was lost in the black hole that's your heart. ❜

❛ am i even human or just programmed to believe? ❜

❛ that sweet little cupid doesn't have it out for me. ❜

❛ part of my fucked up recovery is the monster that i paint you out to be. ❜

❛ [they/you] say that i'm too young to think about love but without it i feel incomplete. ❜

❛ i'm all out of tears. ❜

❛ my childhood's wasted and i'm scared to fix it. ❜

❛ i'm halfway to halfway to a mid life crisis. ❜

❛ my mind makes up stories but they sure don't help 'cause the me in my head is just worse than myself. ❜

❛ they say beauty's just subjective. guess i never got the message. call it instagram depression. ❜

❛ self dysmorphia, a constant reminder i was made wrong. ❜

❛ i got a full me-phobia. this party'd be better with me gone. ❜

❛ i'm just typecast as the friend. i'll make you laught but not the prettiest. ❜

❛ i keep trying to work on me but you can't photograph a personality. ❜

❛ but nothing's ever what it seems. ❜

❛ you're so full of shit. everything you do, i'm so over it. ❜

❛ i don't ever think about you but the worst thing that you ever did. you ruined [everything] and i can't forgive you for that. ❜

❛ break my heart. tear me apart. run me over with your car. but don't fuck with my favorite songs. ❜

❛ i feel like i talk too much or i don't say enough. ❜

❛ sometimes i feel like i'm crazy, like all my friends hate me. ❜

❛ my anxiety tells me you'd be better without me. ❜

❛ i'd give it to you hundred times over til you screwed me over just like the last time. ❜

❛ after what happened, thinking i really loved you. maybe i still do but i think you're honestly something i needed to lose. ❜

❛ i know it's not healthy, it doesn't help me but i do it anyways. ❜

❛ when somebody says your name, i'm almost glad i miss it 'cause it's better than not feeling a single thing. ❜

❛ a ghost never leaves a haunted house. ❜

❛ even after all the times you weren't there when i needed you to be, i'm hoping you're right where you wanna be. even if it's not with me. ❜

❛ the silence used to be so loud. ❜

❛ keep us good in all our memories so i don't have to throw them out. ❜

#her songs are actually so good okay. #teen me would have ate them up even more. #lyrics rp starters #rp meme #rp starters #sentence starters #lyrics starters #lyrics rp meme #roleplay meme #lyrics meme #ask meme

[marinerainbow]

My OC's and handling sickness

🦋Betty Locera🦋

If her loved one I sick:

Betty comes from a big, family-oriented, southern household. She's got this.

She knows all the best recipes. She knows all the greatest tricks, and she pays attention to what helps her loved one the most with comfort.

But she also knows when to be firm. Like when a child is being fussy about taking their medicine; she knows not to spoil the one she's taking care of, "Aw c'mon now. Don't be a big baby, you'll be better before 'ya know it if you just take 'yer medicine."

If she's the one sick

I hope she didn't have any unfinished chores, because she'll be down for the count if this happens.

Her immune system is pretty strong, with her family business having to do with dealing with dirt and her love for the outdoors and all. So the chances of her getting sick aren't too high.

Betty is the most likely to accept help, since she knows that she's too weak to take care of herself and it can even help her get better faster, "Aw, thank 'ya 'fer the tea, sugar. It really helps."

🔎Detective Sketch🔎

If their loved one is sick

They've only had themselves to take care of for a long time. So the first time their partner gets sick they're uh... Kinda clueless.

They aren't a great cook, but they'll be able to provide the things they'll need; Sketch'll buy some canned soup and orange juice, keep the tissues stocked, whatever their loved one needs.

They have to keep working, so they won't stay by their loved one's bedside the whole day. But they try to be there for them when their home, "I'll be back home soon enough. 'Ya just sit tight, ok?"

If they're the one sick

Good luck getting this bastard to take the day off. They'll be puking their guts out before they even think about taking a sick leave.

Sketch's immune system is... Possibly stronger than Betty's, actually. She doesn't go to the city often, and Sketch has lived there their whole life; all the different people they run into carrying God knows what on them, not to mention their job handling gritty cases or going into sketchy buildings- and their sheer spite- has probably made their immune system pretty tough.

When they finally are convinced to stop running down and actually sit down, their exhaustion catches uo to them and they kind of just pass out. They'll still try to insist on taking care of themselves despite this, "I got it! If I can walk, I can cook for my damn self!"

🌼Prism🌼

If her loved one is sick

This gal has had centuries of experience. She'll help her loved one through this.

Since it's the Night Dimension, I wouldn't be surprised if there were some magical or strange remedies passed along. And since Prism lives in the tree of knowledge, she'll just pull out the book needed, find the information she needs, and gets to work.

She is a guardian, so she can't stay the whole time. But Prism will feel pretty bad and try to make it up to her loved one, "I'm sorry I was gone so long. Maybe I can go find us a good story to read, or I can make you something to eat if you're hungry."

If she's the one sick

Prism does not want to face the facts. Too many people depend on her, she can't just be bedridden while the nightmaren are running around!

I imagine her immune system would be average. She goes out and has a demanding job as a guardian, but she's also a fairly clean person so no germs or infections should have too much of a chance to get to her.

Like Sketch, she'll swear up and down that she's ok... But the second Prism actually lays down and fully realizes how weak she is, she'll begrudgingly acknowledge she has to stay home, "... Alright, I'll stay. But promise me you'll look after the visitors for me, will you?

🐰Poppy🐰

If her loved one is sick

The second she sees her loved one is sick, she's grabbing the face mask- and disposable gloves if it's really bad- before taking them to bed. It wouldn't benefit them both if she caught what they had while taking care of them, right?

Poppy would be a good caretaker. She's, arguably, the most gentle and patient of all the others. She doesn't want to stress her loved one out in the slightest and will have the patience of a Saint even for the fussiest of patients.

She'd be the one most hesitant to leave her loved one's bedside. Bills still need to be paid though, so if her boss won't grant her some time off, she'll leave them for work. But she'll feel the most guilt, and will triple check to make sure they have everything they need, "Ok you have your trash bin, your tissues. I got you your favorite book if you can't sleep. Do you want me to bring the radio in too?"

If she's the one sick

When she gets sick, her body takes it horribly. She will barely be able to force herself to go to work- don't worry, she wears her mask while sick and will take precautions.

Poppy is a neat freak. She will keep her place as clean as possible and doesn't like to get dirty. So, ironically, she'd have the weakest immune system.

Poppy would also be hesitant with people helping her, but more so out of guilt than pride. Especially if they aren't as careful as she is and risk getting themselves sick. Not to mention that she's lived alone for years, so she's used to taking care if herself anyway, "Oh no, it's ok. I can make the tea, don't worry."

I hope you guys like these! Any questions you guys have I'll be more than happy to answer ^^

#my own OC's #my own characters #Betty Locera #Detective Sketch #TCS #Ci: DDwtD #The Cuphead Show #Cuphead in: Don't Deal with the Devil #Prism #NiD #JoD #NiGHTS into Dreams #NiGHTS Journey of Dreams #Poppy #WFRR #Who Framed Roger Rabbit #Disney #im not sick but these headcannons are still comforting to write ^^

[sufferinggod]

Aight. So ima try and explain the bullshit I have to deal with. So, normally I get paid around 3700 biweekly. And today I'm learning that my internet bill every month will be 1500. Normally most people pay 450 a month for their internet. Bro I'm paying 1500. That's absolutely retarded. That's a huge chunk of cash here in Mexico. And the funniest thing about it is that I'm only getting barely 10mbps. That's fucking retarded. Not only that but I'm still paying off my laptop every month and I'm spending 700 on that. This is all in pesos btw. What I'm saying is that this is all bullshit. I'm not making enough, and I'm spending way too much on shit internet speeds. Well, I am making enough but I'm being absolutely robbed with this internet bill. It's fucking retarded. I should be paying a whole fuck less than that.... Bro the suffering never ends. Just when I think I'm doing well something new comes and shits all over my life. I mean, I get to work from home, I have a TV now in my room, and I will have money still I just can't spend it as much. So it's not that bad but still bro I'm getting fucked here for no reason is what I'm saying. Saving money from now on will be painfully slow. At least until I pay off my laptop that'll give me some relief. And thankfully I'm almost done but it will still take maybe 3 or 4 months at the rate I'm currently going. Maybe sooner. But yeah. That's just the latest news today. Ugh. Like I said bro, if it's not one thing it's the other smfh. The lesson here is that the suffering never stops. All we can do is just try and cushion it a little. Like I said, I get to work from home, I have a TV now, and I won't be completely broke. It's not that bad. I've dealt with a fuck load worse this is nothing. I just have to suffer for a little while longer (although I shouldn't have too). But the one thing that fucking ticks me off the most is that my parents are getting joy out of this. I swear to God they are. So my older brother told them I'm going to have to pay that and I'm fucking overhearing them talk about it from my room. Bro they fucking wanna see me suffer. I swear they were fucking happy to hear that im gonna spend a huge chunk of my paycheck on this bullshit. They do not want to see me doing good bro. They are those type of people. And bro I just left my room to get a soda and my mom didn't say anything. Because my dad was in the bathroom. Nope, she's waiting until everyone's in the fucking living room to fucking announce to everyone that I'm going to have to pay this much on the internet bill because that's how she will get a kick out of it. Fucking assholes. They do it all out of fucking spite bro I swear to God. This is why I hate everybody and I'm glad I can rot in my room alone. Sometimes I feel like it was the right move breaking up with my ex because sometimes I felt this way towards her like she did things to me out of spite for whatever reason. And working from home and rotting in my room is what I really want from life so that's what I will do if that's what really keeps me happy. The only thing keeping me going is that I know things seem bad right now but I know I have to suffer through it and the good times will come eventually. They don't know that. I do. So fuck them all. I will keep going.

#thoughts #life #work #mexico

[goofyhoffy]

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook × reader

Genre: romcom

Word count : 3.4 k

Warnings : fluffy, swearing, angst, anxiety attack, smut, kinky, abusive language, mention of hickey, sexual harassment, yandere, love, sex, romance, licking, bullying, misunderstanding, one shot, rudeness, humiliation.

Summary: Gone for the last fairwell party where you meet the nerd kid Jeon Jungkook. The rudest boy who hates the popular kid like you. But then something changed and make you fall for him.

Author note: smoky fanfic for some smoky peeps . Share your opinions.

( ◜‿◝ )♡( ◜‿◝ )♡( ◜‿◝ )♡( ◜‿◝ )♡( ◜‿◝ )♡

"You're not going to attend the fairwell party, _____" your mother said. Tonight there is your first year fairwell party at the restaurant. Everyone is already so excited and planned about tonight. But your heartless abusive mother detains you from going.

"Why, that's so cruel. It's my first college fairwell. Everyone will be there. Let me go." You gasped at your mother. She with her eyes wide open signed you to stop your mouth.

"Be at your room till I come back from our ladies get to together. I'll be late, so close all the door. And be at your room. Don't think of going anywhere. Understood." Your mother shouted and leave the house for the party.

You close the door and shouted at the top of your lungs. You're so annoyed that your abusive mother never let you go anywhere. She's so mean that she goes everywhere without letting you go. But you also know your tricks to go there.  You know  the fairwell party gonna be lit with kids on the bars and restaurant all around. As early as your mom leaves you dressed up in your short silk black dress with your long curly hairs open. Match up with some smokey eyes and pencil heels. Afterall you're the most popular kid there, so you have to go there. But you never want to go cause the people around there are so mean and a bully to others.

Though you never get bullied but you felt bad for others. The better you know that the college guys are the meanest and cruelest. You're also so soft hearted that you fear of speaking up for them. Only for this reason you keep hating other and never went to any of the colleges parties. Even everyone insisted you so much. But today there is a sudden urge to attain the party. Because of your bestie since birth. Because of him you're going to the party. The season last party. Your guts are telling you that something big is gonna be happen with you. Something fun gonna be happen.

You waited at the front door for your bestie to pick you up. You checked the time it's already 9 pm and you need to came back by 2 am or else your mother gonna kill your ass of. It's drizzling outside , soft rains are always your favorite but today you don't have the time to appreciate the nature beauty. But you have to kill the party the fullest. You were just waiting.

"Babyygirl, come on! Get inside this beast." Suga shouted at the high pitch. You glad to see your bestie after waiting for them so long. He along with some other guys ride in a black open Jeep Wrangler. You got astonished to see the big Jeep. You walk upon the Jeep and gulped.

"We're going in this?" You questioned.

"Yes baby, now don't waste your time. And get your ass on this." Suga giggled. You get on that open Jeep. Suga helped you too. The Jeep started and all your hair dances in the air. The moonlight along with drizzling cloud make the sky look beautiful. You're feeling so alluring the whole journey.

When you stepped inside the restaurant,  it was nothing like that. It's filled with smoke and known people faces. Kids are drinking , smoking , dancing and making out. As soon as you step in, the focus shifted to you. Everyone started to making cheers, noise with your name. Some people said "look ___ is looking damn hot." "Her ass! I can die for" "can I fuck her only for today" "she wear this dress to show her big cleavage." And some girls there bitching "why this slut is here?" "God! I thought she died. Now who gonna see me." "I need to cover my boyfriends eyes, or else this whore gonna seduce him."  Everyone is just objectifying you. Only for this reasons you  hate to attain any party. All of them only gonna blame or body shames you.

Hearing all of this you squeezed Suga's hand in shame and murmured "Suga can I go home. This place is not for me." He instantly feels that you're feeling uncomfortable. He grapped your hand and shouted "hey people, look! If anyone gonna open their mouth to spite any bad words to ____. I'm gonna make their college life a hell. So shut the fuck up." Suddenly everyone looks downwards and keep on doing their things. Afterall Suga have hype on the college because he's the captain of the basketball and all of the college kids are afraid of him. This is the perks of having a scary bestie.

"Thanks. Today I'm not gonna interrupt you more. So, now you can have fun. I will also find someone to have fun." You sighed to Suga.

"Shut your thanks, babygirl. I'm always here for you only. If anything happens you can  just call me. I will be here around." He said and walked inside the bar.

Being a popular and good looking girl isn't a great thing. People only notice the worst side of you. You're thinking only this things and make your way to the near by open area on that Place. There's no one. Only you and your loneliness appreciating the cloudy night weather. Even though you have Suga as your bestie,  he also can't always look after you. Apart from him, no one was there as your friends. As you interact really less.

Standing there for so long your eyes trail down to a huge postures sitting down the couch. Black leather jacket, high black boots, smokey black eyes, dark gelled hair with tattooed neck a boy was sitting at the couch. You side eyed at him for a better view. He was drawing something. You peek into the painting you saw it was the soothing sky he was drawing. You again trail your eyes to his full muscular body. But you were unable to see his face as he head downs to draw. You just want to look at his face.

For quite a long there,  he said nothing to you. As only both of you're there you thought of asking him. "It's looking like you're painting this beautiful sky." You asked. The boy looked up to your face. His dark glowing eyes look straight into you. It was a known face too. His baby face isn't matching his devil body postures. You mesmerized to his beauty.  You tell you heart you know him, but never noticed him. He was Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook. The nerd kid who always sits at the last bench but tops the class. Who never spokes to anyone. Who's always so lonely when noticed.

"Yeah. I guess you have eyes." Jungkook scoff. But one thing more he's the rudest. Never in his life he talks to anyone in the straight face. Because of that he never have friends. You rolled your eyes.

"I also have mouth but I guess it's best to shut. People are so mean here." You said.

"Huh! Afterall meanest than me. I'm the one who haven't talk about your tits and ass in the whole room here." Jungkook smirked

"Better for you to not open your mouth. I'm only trying to start a conversation with you politely. But you -" Jungkook intrepputed you.

"Yes, I'm the one who shut your bullying mouth. You popular kids always thought we nerds are piece of shit. But we aren't. We aren't even not care for you to answer back. But see today I did." Jungkook again smirked.

"What? I never bullied anyone. Actually you're mad or anything to start a verbal fight here. Do your shitty work, you're good to be alone. Now, I got it why no ones talk to you." You chuckled devilishly.

"I don't make fake friends like you or I say friends with benefits. Huh!" Jungkook giggled.

"Friends with benefits? What do you mean. You totally ruined my mood. Just fuck your life with this shitty attitude you fucking nerd. I'm good to go." You shouted at him and walks towards the bar.

But suddenly,  Jungkook dropped all his drawing book at the floor and runs towards you and grapped you wrist from the back.

"What do you think? Where you're going? " Jungkook said.

You got confused by his actions. "Wait. Why the fuck you touched me? Get off me." You screamed at him. And he instantly released your hand from his grip.

"Cool, using women card huh. See you soon babe." Jungkook smirked turns to devilishly chuckled.  You just get off from there.

Soon you go inside the bar. Asked the bartender to give you some cocktail. He handed over to you. You sit beside a group of creepy men who were keep staring at your thighs. You were getting super uncomfortable because of  that. They're laughing, talking shit about you and your dress. But the limit crossed when one of guys handed over a page to you.

'One night stand! Money as much as you want.' Your blood started to rush over those guys.

You just want to slap them in the face. You hate how the whole fairwell night is turning into a nightmare for you. You never want to come here. You're cussing Suga for insisting you to come.

You grumbled the paper and through it on there faces. But then one of the guys started to touching you inappropriately around your thighs. You don't know what to do. Your anxiety level is getting on peak. All the men covered you and started touching you inappropriately. Out of fear you just sit like a piece of stone.

But then only Jungkook shouted at the group of men around you. His muscular body fitted his leather jacket perfectly. "You creeps,  just get off from her."

One of them says "who is she? Your si-"  Jungkook intrepputed them.

"Yeah, she's my fucking friend. Get off from her." And he grapped your hand and take you aside.

"Just kept your fucking dicks in your pants. If I ever see anyone of you to humiliating any girl. I will cut your penis off. Understood. Fuck off now." He shouted at them. And all of them just leaves the bar.

You're still in a sense of shock. You never believed this happens with you. Room full of air-conditioned but still you're sweating like crazy. You got your first anxiety attack after certain long. Your hand are trembling and tears down to your eyes. You still sense less what's going on.

"You're okay?" Jungkook asked with his baby voice.

You didn't answer anything. You just hugged Jungkook so hard. Nothing in your mind just you hugging him to get some heat and strength. Tears rolled down your eyes stopped to get his presence. He hugged you back and patted your back smoothly. Slowly the terror lives you.

"It's okay. Don't worry. I'm here. You're save." He said.

"I'm here to get your back. Calm down. Your makeup gonna ruin." He scoffs.

"Keep your mouth open. Or else i- " you cut him off.

"I'm okay. Thanks." You gasped.

"Want to have some fresh air outside?" He asked.

"Let's go. I can't breathe here anymore." I sighed. I grapped his wrist and fetch him to outside.

It was storming outside and slow winds crossing over my face. It felt so soothing to go outside and breathe some fresh air. I looked at Jungkook and felt so guilty for misunderstanding him earlier. His baby face just melts my heart. He's a purely the kindest and most helpful. I still regret why I never talked to him on the first hand. Well, I  always have an eye on him for his tonned body. But the behavior always drive me crazy. The way he looked when he was angry at them. His veins hands with silver rings. And those messy dark hair sooths my heart. I once again fall for his kindness,  generosity and smartness.

"Thanks but sorry." You looked at him.

He gazed at me "nothing to thanks me but take care of yourself. A girl should keep her mouth open for herself. Never depend on anyone else other than yourself. You're your own security. Understood."

"Your words are always so deep. But again sorry." You apologized

"Well, I'm sorry too for being rude. I don't mean to but -" you cut him off.

"But nothing. Just end those shitty things. I really liked how you saved me. I promise that from now onwards I will take care of myself." And you smiled at him.

He caressed my cheeks and smiled too. "I always thought you're mean but I was wrong. You're such a sweetheart."

"I know, people assume mean things about me. But at my surprise you're too a darling. But your words are full of sarcasm just like you." You  said.

He giggled at my words. Then you gazed at his eyes and caress his dark long hairs which was covering his baby face. You touched his hairs. You feel a sudden arousal to find him. He was different and amazing. You realized he have something you are finding since a long. He get stumble too with your touch. He felt like he got goosebumps to your touch.  You both keep staring to each others eyes for so long.

But then Jungkook broke it and scoff "your touch gives me goosebumps. Don't be so touchy or else something wrong gonna happen." And you giggled hard at him.

"Okay, I'll give you space." You scoffs.

As you both walk down to a group of boys having tons of beer. The whole area beside them smells like alcohol. You felt like trying some alcohol.

"Want to try some beer?" You asked him.

"Sure. Let's compete who can have more alcohol in their blood tonight." Jungkook smirked to me.

You both took one can of beer and gulped it at one shot. It was so refreshing and taste weird. But alcohol are meant to be tasteless. Jungkook goes for another one and so do you. You both keep on finishing the beer cans one by one. You're so into the competition that both of you crossed all the limits. Just drinking and laughing. After having enough can beer you were just pretending that you're drinking. But you were fully drunk. The alcohol is all over your body. Your dress got drenched with beer. On the other hand, Jungkook keep on going with the beer. Drinking and drinking but not stopping. He's the actual nerd kid who have a super big competitive ass in anything.

"Stop you dick. I can't drink anymore. You win. Cool!" You screamed in annoyance.

"Winner. Yeah. I knew it. No one can win from me." Jungkook yelled.

You made a annoyance face and said "look at my dress, alcohol is all over my body. It's drenched me. I smell like alcohol."

"Are you telling me to lick the beer from your body! Huh?" Jungkook grinned. He's totally drunk. He lost all his senses and so do you. Both are drunk and alone.

"Would you lick me if I say! Huh?" You giggled.

"Just say and I will lick you all up from head to toe baby." He smirked. And walk up to you and licked your neck.

"Stop it. I'll clean it myself." you pushed him kiddingly and ran towards the washroom to clean all the mess up.

At the water basin, you got some tissues and clean all the mess. From neck to your torso where all the beer spilled. But there also Jungkook followed you from the back.

You suddenly feel someone touched your back. You looked back and realized Jungkook is hugging you from behind. Locking your hands and softly kissing your ears. His warm huge body fits you finely. The alcohol fragrance along with his cologne smells it's so sexy. You don't want to leave him and not either tried to get out of his grip. He makes you so comfortable with his body all over you. That's feels so calming and horny. You want him to eat you.

"I said I'll lick you clean. You don't need to clean yourself." Jungkook softly said.

He then smoothly take your open hair aside and kissed your neck. It's feels like you're the last person to eat in this planet. He spins you and now you're facing him. He's so close to your face, you can feel his hot alcoholic breath on your face. He kissed you again all over your neck and beyond leaving some purple marks on your fine white body.

"Don't you want to clean by me! Huh?" Jungkook smirked.

"I-I yes, I want." You said in a shaky voice.

He hovered over you with his lips. Licking neck to chin and then he stopped. He looked into your deep pale eyes. You meet his eyes. His eyes speaking that he will made you watch the heavenly stars today. Without any second thought he kissed you in lips. You deepens the kiss with your tongue into him. His pink juicy lips taste so fine.  He bit you on your upper lips which make it more loving. Then his one hand goes under my dress while the other is still there to deepens your lips. You put your hands on his long dark gelled hair. You both are caressing each other. Deep moans under Neath the breath was changed. Before going out of breath you broke the kiss and you both breathed so heavily.

He lifted you on the top of the water basin of the washroom and touched your inner thigh. A little moans let out from your mouth. His cold long fingers when touched your warm fizzy thighs it's giving you thrills. You spread your long legs further directing him to devour you inside. The hot make out already make you so wet that you can't resist. He pulled the hem of your dress and looks at the most beautiful site at that time. His eyes were glowing to meet with your small pussy.

"You want?" Jungkook asked me before putting his hands further.

"I want you to fuck me. Made me see the stars tonight." You softly screamed.

Jungkook getting the signal to proceed he touched your wet pussy over the panties. But the panties are already drenched of your cum. He gulped and smirked leaving your panty at the floor. He tilted you aside and thrust two of his finger inside of you. His cold veiny long fingers when get inside you, it gives you thrills. You moan his name. He gently thrust each of the finger inward. You already can see the stars.

"Jun-Jungkook!" You moans

"You want more?" Jungkook asked.

"Jun-Jungkook. Yeah. I want you to be inside." You screamed in pleasure.

He gently keeps on going with his fingers all the way. You lift up and you can see the budge on Jungkook jeans. You unlock his belt and put his jeans off. His big member is already waiting for you. Your eyes glowed up to see his big huge dick. You stroke it and it's already having a Boner. Jungkook stops and looked at your eyes.

"Are you sure that you can take my member inside you! Huh?" He smirked.

"Can't wait more to have you inside me. I want your fucking dick to tear my fragile pussy." You growned.

"Then let's just fuck you, ______" Jungkook moans.

You spread your legs further and he put his tip of the cock inside you. He's teasing you but then you thrust him in. His huge cock perfectly fits your pussy. He started to thrust fast and fast. He's moaning your name at high pitch. And you want him more and more. His hips are thrusting hard into you. You see all the colours of the stars. Jungkook made you realize the pleasure. It's get so heated that at last he thrust your g spot. You feel relieved.

"I'm going to cum, Kook." You said.

"I want you to cum on my fucking dick!" He exclaimed.

You cumed in his dick and all over his shirt. Your white liquid is all over the place. He smirked and gently took you off the water basin.

"Did I licked you well, ____?" Jungkook murmured.

"Yeah, I want you to lick me every day, Jungkook." You said softly.

He gently put your clothes on and you wear them. He also did the same. And he kissed your forehead and patted with love.

#bts fic #bts ff #bts fanfic #fanfiction bts #bts fanclub #jungkook layouts #jungkook fanfic #jungkook mafia au #jungkook icons #jungkook smut #jungkook sexy #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook yandere #jungkook hot #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook moodboard #did i licked you well #jungkook × reader #kookie #love you <3 #smoky smut #bts #bts army #kpopidol #kpop #bangtan army #bangtan #aesthetic #bts smut

[aquafaith]

My lengthy, angry ACOSF rant review.

Spoilers, TW for mental, emotional, physical, and sexual abuse.

.

.

.

I loved ACOTAR. I still love ACOTAR. I always will love ACOTAR. But every book afterwards made me give up more and more. ACOMAF romanticized an abusive relationship and assassinated characters for the author's convenience. ACOWAR was a bunch of boring and inconsequential death scares. ACOFAS was all-round dreadful. And each book kept shitting on and pushing away Lucien for no reason.

I'd like to preface this by saying I hated Nesta too. I hated the way she treated Feyre in ACOTAR especially, and I wasn't even too excited for this book because I wasn't that keen on Nesta as a character.

Nesta's POV and her backstory changed my perspective. It does not excuse her actions. All Nesta stans can hold these characters accountable for what they do - trauma is a reason, not an excuse. I, and many others, sided with Nesta because of the way she's treated by everyone else in this book. Also, if you're going to hate Nesta for not teaching Feyre how to read and letting her hunt at fourteen, (which I did, and are very valid things to hate), AT LEAST hold Elain accountable too.

This book. This fucking book.

Shall we start with the intervention? Feyre on her little power trip thinks that her boyfriend that hates Nesta and Nesta hates back, Nesta's ex-best friend, and her possible mate who she never talks to should be at this stupid fucking intervention??? Excuse me???

Remember in ACOMAF when Feyre wouldn't shut up about how rich Rhysand is? Feyre literally has four or five houses and is always talking about how much jewelry and lingerie she can afford because Rhysand is so rich??? Well, Nesta has a few shots. So you know what Feyre does? Humiliates Nesta at this "intervention", TEARS DOWN HER HOME, and forces her to go to the Illyrian training camp.

That was the god awful premise for this book.

Did you think Elain wasn't there because she was against the "intervention"? Nope! She was packing Nesta's belongings without permission.

Remember in ACOMAF when it's made a big fucking deal that locking up a traumatised woman is extremely damaging? Well, when Nesta decides she doesn't want to be in Illyria, Feyre locks her in the House of Wind. Nesta can't fly, so her only way of leaving is down the TEN THOUSAND STEPS, that Feyre KNOWS Nesta isn't capable of climbing.

Feyre's pregnant. In ACOFAS she randomly decided that she wanted a baby to remember Rhysand by if he dies. Which doesn't make any sense because they made that stupid fucking death pact in ACOWAR. It's just SJM superimposing her pregnancy onto her early 20's protagonist. Ignoring the fact that Feyre isn't ready for a baby and Rhysand CERTAINLY isn't, and with a war just ended and another looming and so much trauma and a DEATH PACT are all such horrible circumstances to bring a child into, Feyre is already pregnant. Remember when SJM made a big deal about Fae babies being so hard to conceive, and Feyre said in ACOFAS they wouldn't have to worry for a long time because it can take years to conceive your first Fae child? Well it's been no more than 3 or 4 months and Feyre's already pregnant. Yep.

Also the birth will kill her. Because of course it will. Rhysand KNEW this, and still agreed to try for a baby.

There's no solution. Abortions don't exist for some stupid reason, and a C section would apparently kill Feyre?

(Wasn't this book supposed to be about Nessian?)

In ACOWAR, Cassian was on the battlefield with his entrails around his knees. Someone had to literally hold his guts in for him, and he's fine, but you're telling me a C section would kill Feyre?

Don't worry, this is just setting up the AWFUL ending to this book.

ACOSF amounts to Nesta being gaslit into believing her abusers are right. Her friends and family slut shame her and shame her for her lifestyle constantly. Cassian says it took him decades to work through some of his trauma, and he tried to drink and fuck it away too, but suddenly when Nesta does so it's heinous? Nesta's barely twenty five and she's expected to cope better than these ancient immortals.

Hell, didn't SJM write ACOMAF? Nobody expected Feyre to pick herself up so quickly. The IC (excluding Rhysand) respected her boundaries for the most part and understood when it was grief, trauma, and turmoil that made her angry, sad, want to be left alone, etc. But that's all forgotten here.

Amren also compares Nesta to the people in, and says she belongs in, The Court of Nightmares. You know, the murderers, abusers and rapists? This innocent woman who had a few shots and a bit of sex is on par with them, apparently!

The sex scenes.

SJM is scared to say vagina so she says sex.

She says seed to mean semen.

Apparently the word cunt turns SJM on. I just found Cassian saying that kinda cringe because I'm Bri'ish so the word cunt really isn't a big deal.

Back to the baby killing Feyre, because this is definitely what we all wanted from this book as indicated by the change in covers and format and title... Rhysand decides not to tell Feyre. He tells her friends and family, and tells them not to tell her.

SJM loves sweeping Rhysand's abuse from the first book under the rug and claiming it's always about Feyre's choice... where is that here, MAAS? WHERE IS IT?

Anyway, when Nesta rightfully decides to tell Feyre (although it is kind of out of spite), Rhysand threatens to kill Nesta.

And I believed him. With the way he treats his """mAtE tHaT hE lOvEs sO mUcH""" and all the people he's mindlessly killed before, do you really think he wouldn't kill the person who gave Feyre an inch of autonomy?

So what does Cassian do? His lover who he cares deeply about and suspects is his mate has received a death threat from tHe mOsT pOwErFuL hIgH lORd iN hIsToRy.

Cassian simply gets Nesta out of the court.

EXCUSE ME?

He doesn't breathe ONE word to Rhysand about this. This Illyrian WARRIOR who fought with his GUTS HANGING OUT didn't dare step up to the hIGh lOrD who he considers his brother and sparrs and fights with all the time?

Cassian literally does nothing.

Was it not Rhysand himself who said Mated males are dangerous? Can kill anyone who looks at their mate? Can be dangerous simply leaving the house? Rhys and Feyre both pull the Mate card to justify their bad actions on the other's behalf... and Cassian just tried to get Nesta out of the court?

Also, this High King bullshit.

I swear to fucking god, if SJM DARES to make this abusive, power-tripping, mOsT pOwErFuL hIgH lOrD eVEr, husband-insert of hers hIgH kInG, I will fight her in the street.

My beloved Lucien is in this book. Only for him to be used and shat on.

I really liked it when he calmed Cassian down with just a look though. Yes please fox man.

Helion is also in this book. Nothing to do with Lucien.

Eris is also in this book. ERIS. Lucien's eldest brother. The same one who abused him for years, but according to SJM he's slightly better, because at least he didn't agree to kill Lucien's lover. He betrayed his daddy that one time, therefore Eris is good. Y'know, the same Eris who abused Mor? Left her laying on the Autumn Court border with a nail in her womb? Well SJM is going back on her own canon to redeem yet ANOTHER abusive male, while continuing to demonize Tamlin for things he only happened to do when SJM decided the villain from the first book was sexy.

Nesta and Cassian are Mates.

Remember when Mates were supposed to be a rare and sacred thing? Now SJM dishes them out like Oprah.

I don't want these characters to be mates. I want to see them slowly fall in love. But SJM is incapable of writing that so she forces them together with the mAtInG bOnD. That's literally the only basis for most of these relationships, Feysand especially.

The only relationship where the bond would make sense is between Helion and The Lady of Autumn. Who still isn't named. But I will die on the hill that they're mates, I can feel it between them.

I wanted someone to die in this book. I predicted that it would either be Helion or Tarquin, but Tarquin isn't even in this one.

And the ending.

SJM can't write a decent climax, so she kills both Feyre and Rhysand for the second time. Yep.

The baby is being born which stupidly kills Feyre, and thankfully takes Rhysand with them.

Nesta decides to save them. Bad choice. But she decides to save them! Because she's so powerful and she ATE THE CONTENTS OF THE CAULDRON and she's CONNECTED TO THE MOTHER.

Do you know what happens.

Nesta loses her powers.

NESTA.

LOSES.

HER.

POWERS.

The powers we've hardly seen, the powers that were briefly mentioned and used ONCE in ACOWAR, then we saw like two flashes of in this book? They're GONE now. GONE SO NESTA CAN SAVE HER ABUSIVE SISTER AND ABUSIVE HUSBAND WHO ABUSES THEM BOTH.

Nesta is just an Amren now. They both fought for their powers, and had to give them up to save people who didn't deserve it. Now they're anticlimactically trapped in powerless bodies.

Also, and I can't BELIEVE I didn't originally include this - do you know what else Nesta TRADED HER POWERS FOR?

Illyrian anatomy so she can carry Cassian's baby one day.

EXCUSE ME?

I am so fucking SICK TO DEATH of the narrative that every woman needs a man and children to be happy. SJM clearly loves this because she's literally only keeping Amren and Nesta alive now to be sex objects to their partners and nothing else seeing as their POWERS WERE RIPPED AWAY FROM THEM, and now NESTA TRADED THOSE POWERS TO HAVE A BABY SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW SHE WANTS? Nesta does NOT strike me as a motherly type. She's the wine aunt, she and Cassian are the couple that go on holiday a lot and and babysit their nieces and nephews, but nope. Nesta HAS to have children.

The Feysand baby is called Nyx. That's just so underwhelming, you go from these huge, multiple syllable names like Amarantha and Morrigan and Lucien to Nyx? I get it's supposed to be unique but it's not even meaningful. It's just more shit-flavoured icing on the hAHa nIgHt uWu cake. I prefer Renesmée.

Nesta is wrong somehow. She says she's sorry as she's saving them. FOR WHAT? For being a little rude to Feyre as all sisters are? And rightfully hating your sister's abuser?

Oh yeah, remember in ACOWAR when Nesta took care of a comatose, starving Elain for months? Elain is randomly okay now because she takes care of her mental health the stereotypical way of baking cakes, and not drinking and fucking, which she shames Netsa for.

Remember the slut shaming, demeaning comments that the whole iNnEr cIrClE made about Nesta? They all expect apologies from her. For some reason.

Nesta has done nothing wrong. She coped with her trauma and minded her business in her own ways, and she's expected to apologise to the people who control and emotionally abuse her.

Nothing that any of these characters did to Nesta is right. Nesta wasn't okay at the end, this wasn't Nesta's healing story. This is Nesta being shamed and degraded until she submits.

Oh I can't believe I forgot to write this in my first draft of this review, do you know how Nesta "overcomes" her grief about her Father's death and her conflicting feelings about him and his life and her guilt? When she visits his grave for the first time, she takes Nyx.

NYX.

She holds NYX up to the grave and talks about how it's his grandson.

GO AWAY YOU STUPID DEMON BABY THIS IS NOT YOUR BOOK.

Speaking of, it's revealed that Nesta was abused by her mother and grandmother in this book? Something we were all looking forward to is seeing more of the Archeron's mother seeing as Feyre was so young when she died, but... nope. She gets a few vague mentions, and this newly revealed abuse is entirely glossed over. Nesta was also actively groomed by an older man at 14. But SJM glosses over this because of course she does.

Finally, the bonus chapters.

My edition came with a bonus chapter from Feyre's POV. It was pointless and I hated it.

There's another bonus chapter from Azriel's POV. Once I'd finished this book, he was one of the few characters I still harboured a shred of respect for.

Then I read his bonus chapter.

This exists to purely objectify Elain.

Whether you ship Elain with Azriel, or Lucien, or neither, this chapter is disgusting. He thinks about her coming on his tounge, and other things simply just to please him.

He then dares to suggest that "the Cauldron picked wrong" in choosing Lucien as Elain's mate?

No Azriel, SJM picked RIGHT in not giving each Archeron sister a bAt bOy.

Rhysand does the only right thing he's ever done by telling Azriel to stay away from Elain, but then he has to ruin it by clarifying that it's only so they can manipulate and use Lucien more.

Oh, and Azriel wants to kill Lucien.

Need I remind you that Lucien respects Azriel? Lucien is another victim of the Night Court's needless, baseless torment, and Azriel is no exception.

Lucien stays well out of Elain's way because she makes it clear that she's not interested in a mate, but Azriel wants to kill him simply for being her mate.

Lucien has done nothing. And I mean literally NOTHING to warrant any of this treatment. From the bAt bOyS, from Feyre, from his family, from SJM, from the deluded part of this fandom that think he's done wrong. NOTHING.

All I liked about this book was the Lucien scenes (which is a given), ((although I hated the way everyone talks about him behind his back)), Nesta's relationship with the house, Emerie and Gwyn, the evidence that Gwynriel is endgame and subsequently Elucien, and the book love. Everything else was horrible. Oh, and Nesta hates Rhysand. I love that for her, because everyone else bows at his feet.

Oh yeah, when Nesta DARES suggest that Rhysand is an "arrogant, preening asshole" which I think is a compliment, Cassian can't take Rhys' cock out of his mouth for one second, and has to get mad at her for having an opinion. Don't even get me started on Azriel in that scene.

If each book after ACOTAR made me slowly give up, this book made me give up altogether. I cannot go on to support this victim-blaming, abuse-forgiving, misogynistic series. I've given up on SJM, and the only characters I care about anyone are Lucien, Nesta, Helion, and Tarquin. I'll continue to read this series to see if SJM redeems herself, but I'll be downloading them for free. I'm not giving this piece of shit any more of my money.

I hope we don't get the Lucien book. I don't want her to slaughter my fox in the way she slaughtered LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE.

Thanks for listening.

Edit: I put the review on Goodreads!

#anti acotar #anti acomaf #anti acowar #anti acofas #anti acosf #anti sjm #anti feysand #anti rhysand

[doubleshotofsomething]

To Hell & Back

Part Three: “I don’t scare you and I guess that’s why”

Summary: You attempts at payback keep getting ruined. Somehow, you keep needing the same idiot you hate.

Prompt: “I don’t want to live on this planet anymore.”

Warnings: Swearing. [Also typos, probably. Which shall be repaired by tomorrow]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

---

Series Masterlist [in case you missed the other ones]

----

"Good morning-" your customer service smile widens just a smidge, "-what can I get ya?"

Bucky narrows his eyes, lips tightening into a thin line as he looks over you. Even with the counter between you and the little fluff in his hand, he still manages to look intimidating.

You're trying your best to not show how much the sight of him, angry and inconvenienced, pleases you. It's a mission, but you keep your professional façade intact.

"I'm going to throw you off the roof." He growls, adjusting his arm as he glares at you. "Then I'm gonna dance on your grave."

"That doesn't sound familiar," you say coyly, tilting your head to the side. "Is that some kind of latte?"

There is a line forming behind him and your co-workers are you giving the both of you side-eyes. Bucky doesn't seem to care, his blue eyes flashing with what you can only hope is anger. You don't care either, you warned him and he didn't listen.

"You took my parking space-" he dumps the white fluff onto the counter between you. "-my fucking parking space."

You shrug. "You made me drink filter coffee."

He glowers. "That justifies your actions?"

"Filter," you emphasize, gently nudging the little fur ball towards him. "Filter fucking coffee, Barnes. Do you know what that shit does to a person?"

You can hear one of your co-workers mumble an "oh, here we go" and you shoot them a glare. Turning back to the mammoth in front of you, you nudge his gift back to him.

"Excuse me-" Bucky turns around, giving you a clear view of the old man behind him. "-some of us have things to do. Can you two hurry the fuck up?"

You both blink at the man, completely unfazed, then turn back to each other. He shoves the cat back to you and it lets out a disgruntled out.

"Take your cat and go home," you gently push it back to him.

"I don't have a cat." He pushes it back.

"Your parking space disagrees." You pick it up and put it in his arms.

He narrows his eyes, holding the cat. "That was just cruel, even for you, doll."

"Not a doll."

"I will be taking your parking space."

"I don't have one-" you grin. "-no car, no space. Also, you can't prove I took your parking space."

His nostrils flare. "Who else would put this-" he gestures to the furball clinging onto him, "-in a box and put it where my bike is supposed to be?!"

You blink at him. Once. Twice. Then frown. "Wait, why do you have a car and a bike?"

"Seriously?"

You nod. "Yeah, I keep forgetting to ask you about that-"

"Sweetheart, I'm going to drop you off in Australia after this-" your heart nearly plummets at the thought and you glare at him. "-and that's your concern, right now? The car and the bike?"

You don't question why or how he knows Australia is on your list of murder sites. You also don't question why the way he just called you sweetheart makes you want things you shouldn't.

You're about to respond, something snarky that will piss him off even more, when the same guy interrupts again.

"Hey!" He rounds and stands next to Bucky, glaring you both down. "Listen, I didn't beat morning traffic for some coffee only to have some gym buff flirt up the cashier."

Bucky's eyebrows shoot up. He tries to blink back the shock, but he can't.

Flirt? With you? He could never disrespect you like that. Not at your job. Never like this.

You have worked with, and for, people like that for the longest of time. So you're not surprised by the tantrum the man throws.

However, you're running low on patience at the moment.

"Sir-"you glare at the man, "-this man, right here, is a war hero. A veteran. The reason half the world is back. You owe your life to him. So if you're gonna be an asshole-"

Bucky cuts in. "Doll, it's oka-"

"Shut your trap, Barnes!" You hiss at him, before turning back to the man. "If you're gonna be an asshole and accuse him of flirting with me, then call him Sergeant - not gym buff. Now, get the fuck out of my shop before I have him throw you out!"

The man sputters, random words flying out of his mouth as he scrambles to form a sentence. Bucky grimaces at the sight and turns back to you.

"That wasn't necessary-"

"He called me a cashier."

He pauses, then nods. You were a barista first, manager second - you worked far too hard on that promotion to be demoted publicly by an asshole - and spiteful third.

You would rather let your neighbour call you Doll, than let a stranger assume your job title.

"Fair point. I'll take a coffee while I wait for you-"

You slit your eyes. "What kind of coffee, Barnes?" You grit the words out.

It's not a question, it's a warning. One he blatantly ignores as he adjusts the kitten in his arm.

He gives you a smile, the most innocent smile you've ever seen on that face of his. And that's saying a lot, you've seen all his smile and none of them are this deceiving.

A pit forms in your stomach at the glint in his eyes. Utter betrayal.

"I swear to god, if you say filter-"

"Decaf." He cuts you off, a sweet smile on his face. "I'll take decaf."

---

You had wiped down the counter three times, before finishing with your queue. Then took over making the drinks, while everyone else worked the registers.

If Bucky wasn't sure that you were making him wait on purpose, the fact that you let everyone else take their breaks first was confirmation enough.

Once you were sure he had been stewing for long enough, you took your fifteen minutes.

With a bottle of water and an empty ice cream cup, you move to the little corner booth in the back. Bucky leans back, eyeing your hands, as you approach.

"That's all you're gonna eat?" Is his question as you sit down.

"Not for me," you pour water into the cup and nudge it towards him. "It's for your new friend. Or roommate. Or whatever it is you called 'em back in the day."

He rolls his eyes, gently picking up the cat from his lap and placing it on the table. He nudges the water closer to cat.

"Now," you fold your arms on the table and rest your chin on them, watching the little thing make it's way to the water. "Tell me more about this fuzzball."

Bucky frowns and shifts slightly in his chair, slowly analysing you. You don't notice, too busy focused on the cat that shouldn't be in the shop.

For a moment, you have this wondrous look in your eye as you watch. It's there for a short moment, then it's gone. He wants it back. In your eyes, where it should always be.

You chance a look at him. "The cat?"

"Why aren't you eating?" He counters. "Isn't it your break?"

"No, it's not for another three hours." You straighten in your seat. "This is just a breather, so use it wisely."

"Okay, then what will you be eating in three hours?"

You sigh, folding your arms and leaning in your seat. "Are you asking me out for lunch, Barnes?"

He bristles. Not because of the question, but the use of his last name. He prefers Bucky, you know he does, but he's gotten so accustomed to you calling him anything other than Bucky that it worries him.

"No," he states.

Not lunch. That's not enough time, it's never enough time.

Dinner. That's a definite. Nights are longer, and you don't have to rush back to work after. It's not enough time either, but it's a gateway to breakfast. So, not lunch. Never lunch.

"Then?" You raise an eyebrow.

He retaliates by raising his. "Will you be eating lunch or working through it?"

You stare at him, eyes flicking between both blues. He stares back, something you've noticed he's good at. And knowing that stirs something inside you, something you wish you could drown.

"Yes, Barnes-" you sigh. "-I will be eating lunch."

"Good."

"I always figured Blondilocks was the mom friend of your death squad. Guess I was wrong."

Blondilocks is a nickname you reserved for Steve. It used to piss him off, but now he realises how fitting it is.

He chooses to ignore your remark. "Now, let's talk about the parking space and the cat."

"I'm innocent."

"No, you're not." He glares. "You threatened to take my parking space and now you took it."

"I plead the fifth."

"And you involved a cat. What am I supposed to do with a cat?"

"I want a lawy–" you pause, his words seeming to echo in your head. You sit up and place your hands on the table. "–wait a minute. What did I do with what cat?"

Bucky points at the kitten laying on the table. You're not seated by a window, but the rays of sunlight still reach your table – much to the furball's delight.

"The cat in my parking space." He says it like you're supposed to know what he's talking about.

Which is both amusing and upsetting, because you don't.

You blink at him. "I didn't put a cat in your parking space."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't. I put something else in the parking space–" you claim, your mind flashing with the images of plates of tampon-stuffed jelly that you placed on his parking space. "–but not a living creature. I'd never abandon a living, breathing thing in a basement parking lot for payback. I'm pretty sure that's illegal."

It's Bucky's turn to be confused. The only reason he was there, at your work, was because he tried to park his car – only to find a large box in the middle of his parking spot. Inside the box, was a small pillow and bowl of milk, next to what looked like a small, white fluffy tennis ball.

He thought it was you. It made sense. The thing inconvenienced him, like something you would make sure to do. And it was added responsibility that you knew he never wanted. So, of course he thought it was you. It had to be.

"Wait, so all you found was a cat?" You frown, clearly annoyed at that little fact.

Bucky nods slowly, confused that it wasn't you. Who else could it be, if not you?

You huff. "So... You didn't get my surprise gift to you? At all?"

"There was a cat," he explains again. "In a box. That's it."

"Now that's just fucking disrespectful!" You're beyond pissed now. "I spent the entire night on those dishes."

"No need to be dramati–"

"Barnes–" you flash your eyes at him, picking up the table's salt shaker and pointing it at him. "I will use this."

His eyes narrow. "I'm not a demon–"

"I," your eyes narrow further, "will use this."

---

There's banging on your door. Loud and insistent. You don't need to ask, to know who it is.

You're also very, very aware of the fact that your mother somehow got a copy of your keys. You called her out on it, one Saturday Session, gross invasion of privacy was the term you used.

Somehow, those words twisted into something far more sinister and you left your childhood home feeling worse than you did when you walked in.

You hated those five years. Watching your mother mourn both your sister and father did things to you, things no one should ever have to go through. But watching your sister's husband –  a man you used to respect – turn into everything you hate, that had to have been the worst of it all.

You hated those five years, you hated the Avengers for not winning too. But now, with everyone back, you wish they'd lost again.

"Psst," you're on your balcony, hoping your neighbour's super serum gave him superhearing. "Barnes."

You slipped out the glass door the moment you heard a key being slipped into your front door locks. You guess your mother is either with your sister, or she gave her a copy of your keys. You made sure to close it on your way out, and hid out of sight.

"Barnes," you whisper again, "Barnes, open up. I will freeze to death out here."

A soft click sounds, followed by your neighbour's glass door opening a fraction. He sticks his head out, a frown on his face as he eyes you.

"Wha–" he inspects your attire, the only light coming from a street pole a few blocks away. "–why aren't you wearing pants?"

You stick your hand out, wiggling your fingers at him. "I will cat sit for you, if you can hide me."

The barrier, a makeshift fence, between your balconies reaches his waist in height. But you have no upper body strength so pulling yourself over it will lead to a disaster, and the amount of noise that will expose your hiding place.

Sighing, he steps out onto the balcony and gently shuts the door behind him.  It takes you moment to realise he's shirtless, and in sweatpants, then another to realise you've never seen him shirtless and in sweatpants.

You're staring. Gawking. And it's shameful, but you can't seem to pull yourself together.

It's unsettling for him, the way you're looking at him. He clears his throat but you don't seem to hear it, too far in your own mind apparently.

Your hand, the one you'd held out for him, slowly lowers to the railing and you blink. The cold air nips at your skin and you have to force yourself to look up at his eyes.

Big mistake. You think as your breath hitches, he looks like he wants to throw you off the roof, but your heart flutters a bit at the sight of his little pout.

The corner of your lips twitch. "Sorry, I didn't mean to," you begin, "you just... You do look like a gym buff in those pants."

He glares. "You gonna stare all night or what?"

You wish you could find that little part of you that wants to say yes, just so you could throw her off that balcony.

This time, you lift both your arms up and pout. "Or what."

Gentle hands grip your waist, warm and cold, and hoist you over the railing. Bucky gently sets you down, your mismatched socks barely warming your feet against the cold metal.

"This is the weirdest booty call I've ever had," you muse, trying to keep your mind off of his hands on you.

He scoffs, taking a step back. "Pretty sure that's my line, Doll–"

"–not a Doll."

"–and  I'm pretty sure this is more of a home invasion, than a booty call."

"You would know."

Sighing, he squeezed passed you to open the door. "Ladies first."

You curtsey and practically leap inside when you catch a glimpse of your glass door opening. A sharp pain slices through your arm as you land on your side.

Bucky is about to rush in, to ask if you're alright, to see if you've actually lost the remainder of your mind. Because you must have.

"Oh."

He shivers, in the worst way, at the sound of your sister's voice and is forced to abandon all thoughts of checking on you. Schooling his face takes priority now.

He turns around, grimacing slightly at her shocked expression. "Hey."

"Uh-uh–" she stammers, eyes that match yours scanning every inch of him as she does. "–uh-uh-"

Nodding, he sighs. "Yeah, sorry–" she's not the first to react like this. He's just glad that your staring didn't result in that. "–I came out for some fresh air. I should've known someone would think to do the same."

Your sister's gaping only seizes when her husband's voice echoes from your apartment. Of course she'd bring her husband.

"Oh," the asshole repeats, stepping out onto the balcony. "Hey, man. What's up?"

Bucky shrugs, forcing a smile. "I didn't know you guys were over. Woulda stopped by and said hi, if I knew."

"Oh," your sister lets a nervous laugh, waving the thought away. "No, no. We were just in the area and wanted to stop by. Ya know, check on her."

Bullshit.

They came because of the poisoned muffins.

Bucky doesn't need to force the smile anymore. "Oh, that's great. How is she?"

This is probably the first time they've managed to leave their place. Or else they would have been there earlier in the week.

The asshole shrugs. "I hope we didn't make dinner uncomfortable for you on Saturday," he adds instead. "We really enjoyed your company."

"Hmm." Bucky nods, still smiling. Near grinning now. By the third twitch of lips, he knows he has to get back inside before it's too late. "Well, goodnight."

He thought the torture was when he had to walk back, slowly, into his own place without breaking down. Then closing the door at a slow pace, as not to give anything away.

But as soon as he turned around, as soon as he saw you sitting on the floor, on his impromptu bed. Legs criss-cross, kitten by your feet, and cup of coffee in your hands. Everything changed.

"Helped myself to some coffee," you whisper, cradling the cup closer to your lips.

Torture would be the following night, and the nights after that. Where he would walk into his apartment, and not find you there – like this.

"Fuck."

----

TAGS :D : @sunflowerxbarnes , @ginger-swag-rapunzel , @arctic-duchess , @sltwins , @thewayilookatbacon , @buckyisperfect , @paryl

#Bex's 1.5K Meme Challenge #Bucky Barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #reader insert #x you #x reader #neighbour!bucky #neighbours au #enemiestolovers au #marvel challenge #bucky fic #mcu x reader #to hell and back #Part 3 #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky x y/n

[garblegox]

• Humpty Dumpty Elegy 2 | five books for a 🚫FAKE AUTIST🤖 •

Unravelling the mystery of Humpty Dumpty has been like one furious rendition of the Twelve Days Of Christmas. Where every gift is another crime he committed against the group.

"Yo Wednesday, Hump got me a partridge in a pear tree. I think he might be a great big piece of shit."

"DUDE! I swear to god, he got me two turtle doves as well. I can't believe he also got you a partridge in a pear tree, what the FUCK!"

A second friend pops into voice chat, we rattle off our gifts.

"You know, I thought I was the only one getting gifts from Humpty. I'm on my third French hen. But if you got two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree, something must be up!"

Every friend has been a brand new day of Christmas. And I'm about seven days in. Day one, I only had one story in my head. By day seven, I've heard or repeated them all at least 28 different times.

The Twelve Days of Christmas is a song that always fills me with panic and dread. Real Bill Murray, Groundhog Day shit. Opposite to how talking to a shrink makes your head feel lighter and shrunk, talking about Mr. Dumpty makes my skull feel like a 16lb bowling ball, dipped in hot moldy fondue.

• # 1 The Coddling Of The American Mind by Greg Lukianoff & Johnathan Haidt •

I was born in 1995. All throughout school, it felt like the kids in my grade were the last ones to have any fun.

Playgrounds got dismantled, piece by piece. The ground under them went from sand, to pebbles, to wood chips, to bouncy asphalt. Can't throw a giant rubber mat into someone's eyes.

There was a gentle, not even 15-degree-inclined hill behind one school I went to. We'd summersault down it, roll into each other's legs, toboggan on our coats, write in the snow with our footsteps, dozens of things silly kids do on a tiny hillside. When I hit the 6th grade, only 6th graders and above were allowed on it, and when I went to highschool, it was strictly prohibited. To everyone's knowledge, nobody in the history of the hill ever got hurt on it, but it was off-limits in the name of safety nonetheless.

Or as we little morons used to say, "Hill's outta bounce."

I remember when the phrase, "exclusion is a form of bullying, same as the others," was new. I remember it backfiring spectacularly. A group would form, and a kid that was disinvited from that group would end up furious. Instead of asking, "how do I get in?" He'd go full Randal Weems. First, angrily threatening to snitch. Next, pitifully sobbing, and running to the teacher to tell them the whole spiel. The teacher would then tell us if we want to make a group, absolutely everyone must be invited.

The kid would get his way, and treat his own presence like the greatest victory in the name of spite. We'd say something to the effect of, "Well, you got your own way. Now we get to hate you up close." This would last one to three days, a week at the most, and the group would voluntarily dissolve. At least in any in-school form. School turned the art of association into a bullying conspiracy; We learned to speak in symbols like Freemasons.

Humpty was a kid that got excluded a lot. For all his frustration, he got to watch these conspiracies from behind a veil of flattery, resentment, and placation. No, "improve X aspect of yourself, and you'll fit in" from his peers. Nothing constructive to reflect on. Just bitter kids, silently parting away from him like the Red Sea. That's why I wrote this. I believe we busted our asses off to be constructive, and I refuse to be accused of not doing my best at that.

Contact sports stopped using contact. Dodgeballs became these useless foam core sponges with the kinetic energy of ping pong balls. Track & field day legitimately started involving participation ribbons. So kids like me couldn't just blow the whole event off; we got to take home an official stack of loser-colored failure tokens. Me and the kids with spina bifida, and electric wheelchairs.

Humpty is only 3 years older than me. Plus, he was held back a grade. We went to school in the same province. We both saw the same circus. He's a young Millennial, I'm an old Zoomer.

Just a sidenote, I streetviewed my old school, with the hill out back. Between 2009 and now, every single climbable non-coniferous tree has been cut down. Not just on the property, but along every sidewalk leading to the school, all the way to the neighborhood I used to walk from. That just makes me so sad. We're fucking primates, man. This is that "abiosis" those oracles warned all us about.

I wanted Humpty to feel like I did, when I read this. Like it wasn't just me, and my particularly satanic schools. I wasn't being some curmudgeony ass Chicken Little, screaming, "THE BALLS ARE TOO SOFT!" That almost everyone our age, at least in most English countries, watched the same thing in their school as well.

It's almost a boring cliché, all the people saying, "School doesn't teach you to be smart, it teaches you to be compliant." But now, add to that, alongside "compliant": helpless, incurious, mechanical, snitch-happy, anti-competitive, hyperbehaviorized Skinner pigeons with brain AIDS. With 3 Grand Untruths to live by:

What doesn't kill you makes you weaker

Always trust your feelings

Life is a battle between good and evil

Or, as cognitive behavioral therapists would call it: The shittiest way to look at the world, ever; The most anxiety-inducing, narcissism-affirming, history-forgetting way to perceive one's own life. But why? Since when? And what does sane look like? You gotta read it, homie.

• # 2 The Science Of Evil by Simon Baron-Cohen •

Perhaps you think I'm pulling this whole, "fake autism" thing out of my ass.

Remember those haymakers I mentioned in the last one? I ran them by a different autistic friend. Emphasizing the part about seeing Humpty in a new light, and finding him dishonest and manipulative.

Our friend immediately recalled a story, where a girl he knew for a long time suddenly said to him, "I've rethought our relationship. I think you're dangerous, suspicious, and a liar. I don't want to spend any more time with you, leave me alone."

He said it made him panic instantly. He felt helpless, he started crying. He felt like autism done went and did it again, taking nice things away from him. He thought, "Why does this happen to me? What can I do?" And he rushed to rectify it with her, whatever way he could.

This is exactly what I expected Humpty to do. It's what I think I would do, and why I was fully prepared to ease up. I've thrown about five more elbow drops from the turnbuckle, right onto his balls, and nothing has made him flinch.

There are plenty of things you could say to offend him or make him defensive. None of these were it.

Friends have listened, and said they were shocked with how cruel I was able to be. Honestly, I am too. I can't believe we never noticed how little listens, and I'm still plumbing the depths of his selective hearing patterns.

Since writing this, Humpty has independently parroted my words back to me a few times, sarcastically.

Once, he guffawed, "So what are you saying, you think I have a dissociative mental illness, instead of autism?"

I said, "You took the words right outa my mouth."

Hump certainly does have one real, life-disrupting problem: zero empathy.

With empathy, a little goes a long way. There are multiple ways to reduce it to zero. By state or by trait.

States are hopeful. A bad state, that leads you to think and act unempathetically, can be improved, and the empathy will return to natural levels. But traits determine the natural levels. With 10 different brain regions involved in empathy, there are many ways to compensate for deficient traits in one or more.

Most of our effort has been focused around how he can improve his states. He has attempted a grand total of 0 suggestions. No matter how atomically small the change may be.

Now, getting Humpty to cooperate in any discussion of his states or traits is excruciatingly difficult and unproductive. He's unclear about his past and his present, always. Think about how Tommy Wiseau answers questions. Identical. Just an inscrutable quadruple pendulum of bullshit, till you tap out or lose your train of thought.

Zero empathy has two faces, "zero positive" and "zero negative". A good face and a bad face. "Systematizers vs Empathizers"

Zero positive is things like Asperger's and autism. Zero negative is borderline personality, psychopathy, and narcissism.

Asperger's and autism are thought of as positive, because in leu of empathy, their brains have an incredible capacity for memory, linear thinking, and systematizing. They're people you really want on a team.

They can learn empathetic ways of behaving, through a systematic approach. They still see people as objects, but they're 100% capable of systematically treating those objects with sweetness and light. Think of a collector, with everything in mint condition.

As Kahneman and Tverski show in their book Thinking Fast And Slow, we have two thinking "systems" at work, simultaneously: Fast intuitions, and slow reasons. Autists lack a fast empathic intuition, but can slowly make up for it using their strong reasoning abilities. As a kid, autism is a struggle. As an adult, autism is a style.

My other autistic friends are shining examples of this. The guy I mentioned earlier has more friends than anybody in the discord group, because he's a god damn lovely son of a bitch.

Again, it's just a matter of partici-fucking-pation. And believe me, I've lost count of how many ways I've tried to say this to Mr. Dumpty. I even gave him Baron-Cohen's bona fides. He said, "that's a nice theory, but I'm the one here who was in a mental institution as a kid." Not kidding. He's never quoted a single thing from his childhood psychiatrists. But the fact that he had them, makes him the expert.

Important side note, Wednesday's been in and out of psychiatric care his whole life. He's got an Adverse Childhood Experience (ACE) score of 9 out of 10. Wednesday has shared all of these stories with him. The Egg is the only one in our gang who forgets about them somehow.

Humpty Dumpty a zero negative.

He's the only autist in the group who is just a simmering kettle of entitled rage. Every day, he claims a new person slighted him and condescended because they knew he was autistic and stupid.

He believes people can see autism in the bone structure of his face, and the way he smells. But he's absolutely deaf to the idea that what people really sense is a hostile sociopath.

We say "Maybe if you internally worked on how much you hate women, they'd find you more attractive." The imp replies: "They never know how much I hate them. They're perfectly unaware."

Every time one of us describes an act of generosity or humanity, he puts on this mocking derisive tone, and says, "Oooh it's the monkey brain instincts forcing men to act as a provider so people will find them attractive hmmMMmm" or some permutation of that Incel brand EvoPsych bullshit. Anything to diminish the role of empathy in people's behavior.

God forbid you're generous or humane towards women. He'll jeer and coo at you, like you're a fool sleepwalking into a siren's song. We can't seem to get him to stop calling people's girlfriends "holes". When people say, "Humpty, if you said that in front of me I'd be tempted to strangle you to fucking death." out come those giggles.

I won't be explicit. But suffice it to say, all of his fantasies, sexual or otherwise, seem to be centered around guile, coercion, humiliation, and schadenfreude. And his favorite way to break an awkward silence is grumble into his microphone, "I'm gonna kill myself/I'm gonna kill someone/I'm gonna kill myself and others"

To that I now just make fart noises into my mic. It's been way more fun.

Like I said about that benefit of the doubt shit. The second I decided to take his words seriously, and stop looking through pity-tinted glasses, I remembered I'm hanging with a monster.

Narcissists, psychopaths, and borderlines are not hopeless. They make up the majority of people seeking psychiatric care. However, a zero-negative, masquerading as a zero-positive, has no place to turn. It's possible to be both, but he'll only admit to half and get nowhere.

• # 3 Bullshit Jobs by David Graeber •

"Hrmmmmph! Off to my wage cage...*bu-boop*" -- Humpty Dumpty grumbling goodnight.

What kind of piece of shit thinks having a job is degrading or unfair? A guy who's almost 30, living in his parents' house, pretending to be autistic, raking in disability money, who spends 100% of that money on merch, and a new videogame every single day.

Most recently, that money went into buying a brand new 1.5-foot-tall, $750 Shadow the Hedgehog statue. That's sesquipedumbralievable. He complains about living with his oppressive parents. Then he spends a month's rent on garbage. As with everything, he blames his spending on "monkey brain."

He complains about being treated like a mentally disabled person at work. He vacillates between that, and claiming people are always surprised when he tells them he's been diagnosed with autism.

He has a college degree in administration. A higher education level than almost half the discord group.

He won't stop applying to temp agencies for the mentally disabled. Jobs that he always finds to be beneath his above-average intelligence.

He believes he has scientifically proven that handing out resumes doesn't work. How? He handed out 40 resumes. I said, "Yeah Humpty, businesses put out job offerings to keep everyone unemployed." He piped up, enthusiastically, "Well, actually that's true. They..." but the conversation was moving in a different direction. What a shame I didn't get to hear that theory.

Where does this book enter into this shell game?

All people need to believe their daily grind contributes to the wellbeing of society. R-worded or not. The absence of that is painful, and it creates a sense of nagging dissonance. People who have an innate sense of shame, at least.

I'm a fry cook. That's good karma. It doesn't pay big money, but I know I'm worth every dollar. I work lunches, so I'm a hangover nurse to boot. I don't have time to dick around on my phone or watch Netflix. I'm never just pretending to be busy or useful. Even all my bosses are respectably occupied with some cumbersome shit.

My job is a "shit job" not a "bullshit job". Shit jobs are a heavy duty grind, but an honest day's work, and a benefit to society. They also don't pay spectacularly well. Bullshit jobs are rent seeking, obsolete, wasteful charades. People waiting to be needed, and using the majority of their brainpower for appearing industrious. They pay the most.

This book made me much more content with my shit job. Second, it totally restructured my career goals with my soul in mind. Don't just value your money, don't just value your time, value your role in your community. Bullshit jobs pay the best because they drain the most from your meaningful and finite existence. Philistine money for a mechanical, philistine lifestyle.

"I'm a parasite, and a drain on society! 😆" -- Humpty Dumpty the Triumphant, real quote.

I was hoping Hump maybe wanted to stop that, at some point. Maybe put that administration degree towards more than just office busywork for lobotomites? Maybe make use of his rigorous systematizing brain, for a project he believes in?

Nope. No thanks.

Since the agricultural revolution, humans looking to contribute to their tribe have been presented with two main lanes: Work hard, or sit down and use that big brain of yours for the benefit of the busy.

I don't believe there's such a thing as playing a valuable role in society, without it being done from one of those two lanes. I think the vast majority of people feel the same. Simply based on how rare it is to find anyone who will admit "My job contributes nothing to society, other than money in my pocket." Try to find one, even the boldest rogue. I bet they'll get screwfaced and defensive at the mere suggestion.

Even the shittiest, most shameless people I know, have died a little inside while working bullshit jobs. One of my uncles, a lifelong bully, a textbook narcissist, and someone I truly believed had no remorse, wound up with stress-induced epilepsy from selling medical/life insurance. He screwed the most desperate people out of their last hope, as often as he hooked them up with some nice insurance. Being a parasite was too much for a man whose sweetest joy is the sound of sobbing children, and the sight of rolling eyes.

Just like everyone else, Old Captain Humpsack McDump would also prefer, deep down, to play a real role in this society. A role he can expect real gratitude for. His own cubicle-farm version of cooking delicious fried chicken for pickled dickbags. And that's what this book is all about. That, and sour-graping on rich people with all their money.

Plus, if your job really is bullshit, there's a Sword of Damocles hanging above your head, every day. When you wake up, struggle to find a reason to get out of bed, then commute to a new space to get nothing done, you get the added spiritual joy of realizing that if your bosses knew any better, or maybe just had the balls, your ass would be without a job, and the world would be a better place.

Now, I won't be a fry cook forever. What's next? I haven't decided yet. But after reading this book, the list of potential careers has shrunk to a fifth of what it used to be. Money at the expense of my dignity will not do. I'd rather be a mediocre contributor, than an extravagant waste of air. I'm thinking maybe a stone mason. I'mma be Big Bad Wolf proof.

• # 4 The Gift Of Fear by Gavin De Becker •

I'm afraid of Humpty Dumpty.

My friends are not. I'm not sure why. He's got a long history as a doormat, so maybe they think that's a fixed quality; He's got no charisma, so maybe they think he couldn't talk us into a dangerous encounter; He's got no good reasons to want to hurt us, so maybe they think he has no bad reasons either.

My friends have not read this book. They like to think that, even though Humpty has a mountain of downsides, violence isn't one of them. That our judgement couldn't fail us that badly. Whatever makes them comfortable. God fuckin bless.

"What's so scary, Garble? Why you bein so melodramatic? You dislike a stinky egg so much you're gonna liken him to a murderer/mass murderer/stalker type fella? Sheesh H. Christ my dude, chill!" people exclaim.

At first, I only ever had gut feelings. I never consciously recalled this book, whenever it applied. Until Humpty invited himself to my house. Then the klaxon blared. Mom's fuckin spaghetti.

Humpty checks every last warning sign illustrated in this book. And again, I'll repeat, that's not typical of autism. From the case studies, to the hypotheticals, to the acronymous omen lists, Humpty Dumpty is described in this book from start to finish. Yuck.

My goal for Hump with this book was twofold: Stop looking like a mark, AND a crook.

Before realizing my fear of Humpty Dumpty, it was mostly all about mark-proofing him. Bad guys don't just pick on nice guys, they pick on the easiest target they can find. And he seems to think being a bullseye is stylish.

Post-fear, I completely switched focus to "stop looking like a crook" mode. Because if Dumptylocks can give me the heebie jeebies, god knows how he makes strangers feel.

Lets compare Humpty to one of De Becker's list of bad omens:

Forced teaming

Typecasting

Charm and niceness

TMI

Unsolicited promises

Loansharking

Discounts the word 'No'

Forced teaming was a latecomer addition to Humpty's dark history. What's forced teaming? The sudden and unjustified use of "us" to insinuate oneself into someone else's situation. It's one of the subtlest and most challenging manipulation tricks to overcome.

"Lemme get those bags for ya. We gotta get these to your front door." Said the stranger, outta nowhere.

What'd Humpty do? He us'd his way into a magic mushroom trip with Wednesday and I. One we had planned for a year already. Hump's been abundantly clear: Don't give me drugs, or I'll kill everyone. Woooo, spooky. So it's not a tricky decision, he was never invited, or welcome, at our mystery. We're not sober-sitting a quasi-murderous douchebag while sweating out glitter on shrooms. DUH!

Yet, suddenly, the story mutated into one involving Humpty. It became a "we" thing. That's when I realized, this book woke long ago, and has been wailing like a baby from some crib, deep in the cracks of my noggin. Crying, "Don't let this motherfucker sleep next to your knife rack!!"

The other omens were no-brainers, upon reflection: He typecasts everyone as either "Normies" or "Monkey Brains." His own brand of Caulfieldian phonies and prostitutes; He's the quintessential 'Niceguy' in terms of women, and he'll openly tell you when he's merely doing things to charm or placate you, which is always; I've mentioned the too-much-info (TMI) problem earlier, when I talked about the non-sequitur fountain. His Tommy Wiseau gimmicks involve a million answers to questions that absolutely nobody asked; His whole presence in the Discord group was an unsolicited promise; He bought me the most recent Doom game, without me ever asking or showing an interest, I enjoyed it, and fully planned to finish it, but after not playing it for 5 days straight, he angrily boomed at me, "PLAY MORE DOOM, GARBLE!" He wasn't kidding, he was annoyed, and convinced I wasted his highly-disposable money; And finally, most importantly, every which-way one could say "NO" to Dumpty means NOTHING. He's always just a liiiiiiiitle too autistic to get what you meant by "NO," or "DONT." And so much more.

When Dumpty was a friend of mine, these faux pas just seemed naive. We've all made these mistakes here and there, and we've probably always regretted them. And the reason why they're such regrettable behaviors, is that they put us in the same lot with psychopathic felons. Humpty's problem comes down to the attractiveness of his behavior, not his fairly attractive face and body. Bitch is 6-foot-something, broad shouldered, and has "predator eyes". His incel friends would be big jelly.

And my problem, now, is staying safe from a dude that scares me. Because, as The Dumpster might say, it's better to be wanted by the cops, than not wanted at all.

The other omen list goes by 'JACA':

Justification

Alternatives

Consequences

Ability

That list is used to judge the immediate danger of a sketchy person. Maybe they do it all, from typecasting to not taking "no" for an answer, but what are the odds they'll hurt you?

Humpty's justification for violence? Same as Elliot Rogers'; Alternatives? Humpty has one story, and he's sticking to it; Consequences? Martyrdom; Ability? None, until he invited himself to my god damn house for the night.

So, whether you are trying to avoid hanging out with creeps, getting supercreeped outta the blue (by like, rapists or murderers), or being a creep yourself: this is the textbook on creepy shit. You'll be the friend with the Spidey senses, who recognizes that muggers smile and act like a friend, not a mugger. Oprah used to fire hardcovers of this at her audience from a T-shirt gun, for a reason: THIS BOOK WILL SAVE YOUR LIFE.

Oh, and one last thing. Didn't really know how to work this in. Remember the Toronto van attack in 2018? The killer pleaded not criminally responsible, because his "autistic way of thinking was severely distorted in a way similar to psychosis."

Humpty was overjoyed at the precedent that would create. He said it was going to pave the way for an autism-woopsie-doo-dah killing spree of his own.

Thankfully, the killer didn't make his case, and got to go to regular shitbag jail. Part of me wants to believe that since Humpty is waiting for legal loopholes, he's not truly impulsive enough, or committed to any real crimes. But he could also just be a bog-standard crook, browsing for easier and easier marks. Or a typical-shmypical terrorist, looking for long fame with a short sentence.

I hang out with this guy. So wassup, RCMP! I know you're reading. This guy is not my guy, bud. He's a real Snidley friggin Whiplash gongshow type fuckin feller man, eh. Christ. Fuck. Oops. Sorry. Take it easy. ⛄❤☮🍁

Alright I'm legally off the hook from the feds.

• # 5 Atomic Habits by James Clear •

He's like Jocko Willink and Leif Babin's nerd sidekick. Extreme Ownership was all about "if you know better, you're responsible for doing better." This book defines "better."

I hesitated for a long time, before reading this. I knew I was going to get called out on some punkass behavior. I'd either be forced to grow up, or just pretend I didn't read anything at all. But thankfully, the growing was painless. It felt like sharpening a knife, and learning to keep it sharp, rather than forging one from scratch.

Much of this advice is stuff you've probably seen or heard people practicing. But if you're like me, it's hard to tell what's signal vs noise. People try all sorts of different ways to hack their habits, for better or worse. Once one's scientifically sound life advice begins seeing results, they just prune the science from their sales pitch and go, "[shrug] works... look."

James has that fresh brain science; No old wives' tales, or my-daddy-saids. Just the leading know-whats on this noggin we all got. Because if I'm going to radically adjust my behavior, it's not just going to be based on scattered anecdotes.

It's not about your goal setting abilities. It's about the systems you build to reach those goals. It's better to have a well-refined system with no goal, than an extraordinary vision and no system to achieve it.

This origami dream is beautiful. But man those wings'll never leave the ground, without a feather and a lottery ticket, now settle down -- Aesop Rock, Daylight

This is the only thing I've read on habits that has made delaying gratification more gratifying. He calls them "atomic" because they're the absolute smallest changes you can make. Then, he encourages the art of stacking as many good habits on top of each other as you can.

The biggest revelation I got out of this book was this: stop waiting for a big surge of willpower and energy; you're an efficiency-minded, conditioning-driven animal who prefers the path of least resistance; good habits reduce friction, so you can take your lack of willpower for granted. Shit, there is never any need for Gary V levels of hypermania.

Should all be up Humpty's alley. It's got monkey brain facts; Typical of most books on psychology, it's full of references to our wild ancient past. And it's explicitly about taking a systematic approach to behavior.

But of course, I tried to reach him with it, even with the help of friends, who themselves have used these tricks, and it's all just silly to him. He doesn't have the signal vs noise issue. Multiple anecdotes at once, from non-strangers. And we'd fill him in on the science to boot. This one's so short and to the point I figured he'd never need to read it; we've covered the whole thing, scattered through different conversations. We figured, like us, he just needed reminders.

He'd need to appreciate the advice first, if there's ever to be reminders. He'd need to not be competitively dedicated to sucking ass. It's really all he needs for this one to work.

• END BIT •

My friends believe we created Humpty as a team. Because he's autistic and feral, he didn't know right from wrong, socially. His only technique was to mimic the group. When you look at our group, shit, it's plausible; We're an isle of misfit toys. Toys with asbestos stuffing, lead buttons, and radium paint. We're absolute rotten fucking trashballs.

If it'll get us put on an RCMP, FBI, EU, CCP, or Boko Haram watchlist, we're gonna loudly blurt it into one another's ears like morons. Basic, non-stop, juvenile, atrocious verbal horseplay. From suicide to genocide, all violent crime, all perversions, if we shouldn't joke about it, we will. It's a marvelous freaker's ball.

The theory is, Humpty went in, tabula rasa, and through misunderstanding the intentions behind our jokes, developed this hateful demonic pervert persona that we never laugh about.

We didn't chuckle him into being bitterly envious of people who have what he wants; or into hitting all of Gavin De Becker's red flags; or reading gaming news articles while we're talking to him; or grossly exaggerating his level of disability; or openly flouting the actionable advice he asked us to give him; or into comprehensively hating and dehumanizing women. Each of us had tons of experience disrupting all the fun just to say "Humpty, no. That's not acceptable."

Everyone in the group has their own shadow. Not a worthless statue, but a dark side. We fuck up our lives, sometimes in ways that make other friends grimace with contempt. We insult each other, and forget boundaries. We can be hypocritical, and waste everyone's time saying shit they know we don't believe. We've all taken turns being a headache.

But we don't transfer all our power and choices onto our friends, and make it their job to carry our lives forward. We don't tap dance constantly on a cliff's edge, to gauge our friends' passion about our existence. We don't pull the focus of every conversation to ourselves, and the problems we've explicitly abandoned the quest to solve. We hang out for FUN, remember?

None of us are therapists. Who were we to take on the mantle of solving Humpty Dumpty's problems? Even therapists gotta show some people the door sometimes.

Howard Bloom says, "Attention is the oxygen of the human soul." Never underestimate it as a primary motive. I think that's been Humpty's #1 goal. In a way, it was mine, too. For all my attention as one man, I wanted one man to pay attention back. Coulda been a humble little deal. But like some sucka ass bitch, I got georgia'd. Took me a year to realize I never copped my scratch. Cold.

And hey, I really do hope it was our fault. That'd mean the solution is that he just needs to hang out with different people, for his own good. Maybe he in fact is super autistic. Maybe irony is dangerous in his hands.

5 more books next month! I'll maybe be more humane towards my former friend. I have death in mind. 💀💀💀💀💀

#psychology #self help #mental health #shadow the hedgehog #books #the coddling of the american mind #the science of evil #bullshit jobs #the gift of fear #atomic habits #philosophy #jonathan haidt #Greg Lukianoff #sacha baron cohen #david graeber #gavin de becker #james clear #book club #bad friends #zoomers #milennials #Humpty Dumpty Elegy #munchausen syndrome #incels #autism #narcissism #humpty dumpty #wednesday #GARBLEGOX

[jiminrings]

honestly i could talk w band!hobi abt numbers all day, like i wouldn't even mind. what are ur thoughts on 27 hobi? i think they a bad bitch. also UM might i request a drabble abt like a film major! yn (that is very enthusiastic abt films and the aesthetics + cinematography and whatnot) w like,,, a theatre kid?? any of ot7 works fine and it's all good if u can't or don't want to! thankyouu 💜

muse of mine

pairing: namjoon x y/n

wordcount: 4k

glimpse: namjoon’s always been a little sensitive to feedback whether it’s positive or negative, y/n’s an endearing type of talker, and smuggled snacks to the theater haven’t ever tasted this sweet :D // gif from pinterest!

notes: i kinda switched it up a lil bit and made them more established in their respective fields bc my mind went berserk on this concept!!! also this is mayhaps my oNLY piece that’s just pure fluff

“27? The number? Hmm. That sounds... sexy.” - band!hobi

this been’s bugging you for the past half hour

this whole experience feels oddly familiar

you’ve been in this theater for half an hour so far to watch this play!!

lmao ur gonna admit RIGHT off the bat that theatre’s definitely not it for you

your slight unfondness for it is deeply-rooted back to university and for four years, you’ve consistently taken dumps on theatre kids even if it’s under your breath

alright it’s possible that you don’t hATE the actual people ( only some of them ;D ) themselves but rather this whole type of cockiness and the “i’m a direct descendant of shakespeare himself. trust me bro. on god” energy that they always seem to exhude

but realistically, maybe this deep-rooted hate stemmed from seokjin

he was the guy you’d share the exact same elective class with him for two straight whole semesters and you’ve been seatmates from time to time

homie took foreign language as an elective?????

the language is korean?????????????????

“wait b-but i — aren’t you — n-no but i really???”

that’s what you first sputtered to him in realization when he took his seat beside you

the two of you have only ever shown each other notes bc the other was dozing off and the occasional sharing of gummy bears that’s already pre-opened to not make any noise

but for some reason, it’s only dawned in you why seokjin’s a god in this class and he answers your questions without even looking at his notes by hALFWAY through the whole semester of foreign language

one day, u are gonna find a way to bodyslam yourself and never recover from it ever again

“mhmm. don’t sweat it, sweetheart. i personally think it’s very don quixote of me to y’know, take something as impractical and amusing as this.”

you snort at his choice of words because honestly!! you barely remember don quixote and jin’s use of it as an adjective jigs up a refresher course on your brain

who was he again?? 

was he the donkey

.. or are you thinking about shrek again because of your film analysis

you sWEAR there was a donkey in that story

it’s good fun to talk with jin even if he keeps sliding bourgeoisie words here and there and you’re a lil confused with all these references that he makes but that’s okay !!!

atleast even him saying it in a long-winded way that he was like someone from the merchant of somewhere, you know now that he pretty-pleased and charmed his way to the registrar for him to take korean as an elective

...

two weeks later, jin sits next to you in class 

in ACTUAL non-elective, non-native language he already speaks class

now that you’re squinting a bit more, jin does look a little uh?? different

his hair that was once a hybrid of lavender and peach and pink and then blonde was now wholly black and it’s probably his original hair color because it matches with those eyebrows of his!!!

his combo of a black bomber jacket with a silk button-up underneath honestly SLAPS and it makes you forget how he used to exclusively wear only knitted shirts and argyle-patterned cardigans

you have ur jaw dropped because you totally would’ve fallen for seokjin jAW-FIRST 

— if only he didn’t strike you as the brother type when he smacked the back of your head because you were falling asleep on class again and uhhh you mUst be forgetting that the two of you were sitting in front

you had no time to reevaluate whether you should develop a crush for him or not 

he’s immediately slapping his hands on his knees, looking at you so intensely before pointing a finger at you with so much conviction, and then scoffing to himself

“switched majors to film. theatre was gonna be the death of me!!! y/n, if you even think about trying to switch to that cheap, amazon-ordered quill and tanning lights for stage lighting major, you’re absolutely dEAD to me-”

you’ve never had a conversation this striking nor long with jin but you genuinely have no complaints at all

seokjin talks pure shit about theatre and theatre junkies and everything in between for the WHOLE day 

trails beside you for every single class you had, which was convenient because he can then sweet-talk his way again (if anybody even dared to question him) that he’s just newly-switched 

sat with you for lunch and him not eating because he just needS to tell you all about it and you trying not to choke on your pasta as you try to reply to him

followed you back hOME and decided to crash the night there

yeah, that. your unfondness for theatre’s rooted on that one

uh-huh safe to say that you’ve become best friends with jin ever since that day

you’re a sponge for your friends and jin’s the closest one you have, so it was only natural that you soak up his distastes and whatnot

not to brag but aha :D

you add salt to the water while you boil pasta so u may be a little bit of a masterchef or somewhat, no big deal :D

he’s absorbed your fascination for all kinds of lights and fixtures that he has about seven different nightlights in the form of squishies or neon and everything else on his bedside table, in which he turns all of them on at night

fun fact: he’s capable of sleeping in the dark

jin’s the whole reason for your stance on this

he’s adamant about his points and you’ve graduated uni four years ago!!!

which is why you DON’T get why jin would give you a scented black envelope, with “don’t come to this” scribbled in gold at the front, carrying a single ticket to this play with a sticky note saying “don’t watch this at 7 pm, wearing your boss lady year-end award show type of clothes, sitting at the ninth row from the back and two seats from your right.”

because of course!! what the hell did he expect you to do? NOT come to this play at 7 pm wearing your boss lady year-end award show type of clothes then sitting at the ninth row from the back, two seats from the right???

OF COURSE YOU WOULD

your goal in life is to do exactly the opposite of what jin tells you. there’s literally nothing else in life you’d want to fulfill

he’s made it quite easy for you to spite him and although you wouldn’t admit it.,,.,., you may be a little petty ok

he’s the even bigger goof out of the two of you and you can never have the final say!! it’s always him and his wit and yOU being the dunce

it’s a lil sus that jin’s basically ASKING for it with his instructions but whatever

whatever it is, this is finally your chance to enact the final say and you’re gonna pull ALL the stops

all you know about theater-goers is that they dress fancy and wear these mini binoculars and that’s about it

there’s not even one film you know that you see anyone in the audience wearing a worn-in cardigan or even a puffer jacket even if the theater’s mad cold

all the people bring are scarves and shawls???? thee thinnest version of a blanket that won’t warm them up against the frigid airconditioning

that whole dress code sounds ridiculous!!! great please ring out this thousand-dollar dress im gonna wear to the theater thank u

you’re a little worried that you’re not gonna blend into the crowd, but after some digging about the invitation, formal wear is most definitely recommended

it’s an exclusive invite-only play which would be later released to the general public later on so yeah the situation dOES call for a gown thank u very much

also how could you forget that jin explicitly told you not to wear this type of attire

if you’re being humble right now, which you always normally are, even if that jUST sounded boastful talking about how you’re humble all the time —

you do look pretty breath-taking :-)

even when the doors weren’t opened and everyone’s just collectively loitering outside the hall, you’d feel glances at you

the sweet security guard did a double-take at you and mumbled a “very very nice evening to you, miss :D” instead of his normal “enjoy the show!” to the other patrons before you

you’re gonna soak all the silent compliments up and try to remember all of them before writing them on your journal later hee-hee

your midnight blue satin dress that’s floor-length and off-shoulder is dEFINITELY in your favor :D

your dress still glimmers even if the spotlight isn’t on you and you wish you weren’t shy to ask a random stranger to take a picture of you

going on self-timer isn’t ideal either when there’s like a hundred other people in the room

they probably wouldn’t even care if you took a picture of yourself!!! but in your head they probably think that you’re laughable so you’d rather not.. do that

the theater’s dark as hell if that wasn’t established

it is literally pitch black in the room and the ushers at each row holding the flashlights that are meant to guide the patrons aren’t exactly helpful

big kudos to them though,, must take a lot of self-control to not wave their lights like it was a rave :D

a flashlight tHAT bright?? whew pls is this what ships feel in the night

the last time you were in a rave, your thirty minutes of fun was cut short when seokjin immediately got hammered and wouldn’t stop throwing a fit if you didn’t drive him home that instant

his energy seemed to compelling everyone that he’s managed to somehow suck the energy out of a WHOLE rave so you took him home for everyone’s enjoyment :(((( except yours apparently

you’re trying hard to focus on the play that’s happening because for the past twenty minutes, all you’ve done is zone out randomly with ideas all of a sudden 

you NEED to listen

....

uh-huh...

UH-HUH......

wait this is actually.. good

you find plays hard to follow and absolutely boring when you don’t immerse yourself in a run-down PRIOR to watching it in order to get

it’s the same analogy as reading the plot of a movie on wikipedia before watching the movie at the cinema.... absolutely useless

it sucks out the fun from something you weren’t supposed to know

watching plays is two hours of you being confused, going home to read the plot and only understand it by tHEN, and never coming to the theater again because you’d waste your money.... watching something cluelessly in the theater..... for a plot you’d grasp at home

but no

because this one

actually this one that you’re watching...

it’s not bad

it’s nice, actually.

within two minutes, you managed to grasp that it’s a story about a never-ending spring between these two lovers

there’s something about the whole setting of it actually that just sucks you in

in some plays, the outfits would seem so forced even in the given context that it reminds you of uh a particular superhero movie

and yes ur aware that stage makeup has to be enhanced so that people all the way to the back row would see

but there’s just something in this scene that’s laid out right-now that actually gets you in awe

it’s of the couple in the back of their pick-up truck and everything about it seems so natural

the background straight up looks like what it’d be if you were to go outside

the guy’s arm around her shoulder seems so natural and in nature that it doesn’t feel like a random cue in the script

the girl twinkles and it doesn’t even feel like a forced type of laugh you’d cue in attempt to warm the audience’s hearts

it’s of a plot where the the guy eventually falls out of love with the girl, while girl gets even more smitten with the guy at the same time

it’s what you take from the past ten minutes that you watch in dead silence, and you don’t even remember in the back of your head that you’re supposed to hate plays

“no way.”

you mumble in disbelief under your breath, head shaking profusely

is your mind playing tricks on you???

you’ve got too used to seokjin sitting beside you that you immediately turn to your right, whispering out your concerns 

“is it just me or is she wearing a different shade of pink?”

you don’t even buffer for one second when you ask the stranger beside you

you’re so concerned that you’re looking at him intently while waiting for his answer that could either console or despair you, a random theater-goer that’s too noisy with her questions for her own good

it’s absolutely dARK as fuck in the theater but after awhile your eyes adjusted slightly

and the first thing you look at after the stage is him

him as in the dude in your right that you just asked all of a sudden

you could only see his silhouette and the faintest features of his face along with his well-dressed suit but god

... you are totally not lying if you say that even the barest silhouette of him doesn’t look handsome

you’re expecting him to tell you off for being so noisy but instead, he’s the one who takes you by surprise

“how did you notice that?” 

:O

“oh my god!” you exclaim almost too loudly that you yourself even jolts, the guy even making you duck with him slightly for a brief second, “im sO sorry!! am i accidentally spoiling it out for you?”

the guy blinks twice, lips slightly parted before shaking his head no

“no, no... this is the first screening — i mean uh, how would you know that?”

oh boy

you’re adjusting yourself on your seat, bum now warm as you try to explain and not be nervous because what if you just made a wrong assumption about this play and you’re sitting next to a goddamn tHEATRE BUFF???

“well i —uh, uhm what’s your name?” you’re flustered and the FIRST thing you ask is what was his name.,.,,

he seems equally as flustered before he adjusts his glasses, “o-oh uhm i’m namjoon...?”

alright! handsome guy is namjoon!

“you see, namjoon — okay it might just be in my head, but i tHINK it looks deeper with the light somehow. but uh...? the spotlight’s not following her and — is it just me or without the light, her sweater looks brown?”

you’re squinting and if u squint even more, maybe your contacts would just crumple by then

hold on a second

“brown, like — oh my gOD LIKE-”

namjoon puts a hand over his mouth before you could even gasp, hand reaching out for your forearm even before you manage to grasp his shoulder to take it in realization

was it under your nose the whole time??

“... fall.”

:D

holy fucking shit

namjoon looks positively euphoric looking at your face of realization, his once-heavy chest about the whole scene becoming completely devoid of weight

“exactly!!”

his confirmation makes you inwardly squeal, grinning as you point at him and the stage back and forth

“i think this is the first play i’ve become ever interested in watching.”

okay what now

his ears perk up at that, your first sentence that you’ve said after your pink sweater that looks like spring also looks brown like fall in certain scene because of the lighting realization

“it is?”

he takes the chance to look at you as best as he could, trying to play his squinting as cool as he can

namjoon’s far sighted and the glasses he’s wearing are nOT up to date with his current grade bc he’s pretty sure his eyesight’s worsened the past month

he can’t make you out wholly, but he does know that you’re pretty

his eyes don’t linger on you because of the snacks you’re fishing from your purse while you talk that are absolutely illegal in this theater house lmao

but instead, his gaze lingers on you because you’re so pretty

the minimal light that’s bouncing off the stage is enough for him to see a faint outline of your features, highlighting your smiles just right and your dress to glint underneath

“mhmm. i actually hate plays,” suddenly, you’re not scared if namjoon happens to be some sort of theatre buff and you’re offending him because honestly, you feel at ease. “crunch?” you’re holding out the mini bar of chocolate out to him, one he politely declines to because his eyes are bulging out the next second

“you do????”

his genuine reaction indulges you, making you grin ultimately that you put off eating snacks for now to focus on him

“yeah! this is my hate outfit :D”

namjoon giggles as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard

you automatically scoot closer because this time, it’s yOUR turn to shush him

this is totally for just the reason of talking more discreetly and not distracting anyone and is totally not an excuse to be closer to the next guy and touch shoulders with him then get a whiff of cologne because it’s rare for a guy to be handsome and aLSO smell good

your eyes get used to the darkness and eventually, you could make out features of namjoon beside you

he has the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen

and the way he looks at you makes you feel safe and even your height difference is visible with how probably lonG his torso is compared to yours, his gaze doesn’t make you feel small

namjoon’s still (unsurprisingly) far-sighted and ur so close that he’s a lil cross-eyed 

fuck it he’s gonna go to ophthalmologist FIRST thing in the morning tomorrow

“then why are you here?”

“my friend seokjin,” you lean back upon realizing the original reason why you’re here, the situation being so ironic that you puff out a smile

your friend’s named seokjin?

cool :D kim seokjin is namjoon’s of his favorite directors eVER!!

second best for him actually though.,., no one could quite compare to his first

your explanation makes him cackle several times, a swell of pride recounting why you hate (it’ll be past tense probably after this one) theatre 

“what about you?”

you turn the question to him, making his dimples disappear effectively that you think you’ve just spooked him

“i uh, well i always wanted to see a story that went like this, so i’m here.”

“you’re a critic? oh god. please don’t tell me you heard all my mumbles.”

no this is even WORSE

namjoon’s not a theatre buff

HE’S A CRITIC????????????

god im coming up

“don’t worry, i also think that the drapings must probably be dirty.”

he breaks out into a smile recounting how you were talking to yourself earlier, a snort escaping him involuntarily 

“RIGHT??? it’s like how do you even clean them?? do they fit in washing machines or-”

my god he’s such a nice guy!!!

in fact, he’s everything you want in a guy

you’ve went through atleast twelve facets of emotions for the past hour and you’re not even dating!!!!!!!

“my thoughts exactly!! and if it’s by hand, how do you even scrub the entirety of it?? or wring the water out??”

namjoon KNOWS exactly what’s up :’)

“is there even a clothesline that’d bEAR the weight??”

the two of you are so happy that you just look at each other laughing, a moment in time before namjoon nudges you to lean back because the ending’s happening

you don’t even question him how he’d know that it’s the ending and not just another opening to a new scene, just listening to him

you’re so happy

the play made you happy but namjoon made you even happier :-)

“if you are a critic, you should probably open up your review with this chatty play-hating girl beside you, then at the end, close it off with how she loves it.”

it’s the parting conversation as you realize and holy fuck you are nOT ready for it

you r gonna drag this out for as long as you could <3

......

and namjoon wants in too <3

“noted. if i was a playwright, i’d even make you the lead. which detail should i include? offering me wrapper-covered rice crispy snacks, or asking how you’d watch it while going thru the bathroom?”

this feels so natural

as natural as the couple in the play you’ve just finished watching :))

“you’re hilarious,” you’re not even the slightest bit annoyed and your restrained smile tells him all about it

yea you may have brought in snacks illegally but you aRE gathering your trash up as you’re a decent human being

namjoon wishes you’d pick up after yourself slowly, standing up from his seat as he has the plan of picking up trash that isn’t even his

“what name should i put then?”

you’re silent and oh god he thinks you found his company stupid and would definitely not give him your name

you’re not ignoring him though!!!

his words are still stuck in your head, realizing it lately with his “which detail should i include?”

“me wanting to turn this into a film, actually.”

you test the words out on your tongue, nodding to yourself after a few seconds that you seem so sure of it

“yeah. i wanna make it into a film.”

the lights turn on after being dim for so long, namjoon’s eyes going wide trying to digest what you’ve just said

“w-what?

.....

no fucking way

HOLY FUCKING SHIT SWFRWFBWRHGBRBVWRV SWBHJSDB SHJAVBHGJDS BWHRGHBSVWBGRH

namjoon’s malfunctioning as he’s looking at you from eye to eye, bottom lip trembling while he’s so keen at pointing at you

“y-you’re miss y/n!!”

....

right

oH RIGHT

he’s a fan of yours??

namjoon’s fanning his face because he’s about to literally burst into tears

how could he nOT???

how could he not be emotional when all along, he’s been talking to his number one favorite director????

you and your films are the absolute gems of his life namjoon’s not even kidding

your films were world-renowned for being so natural and sentimental without loading too much into it!!!! you’re known for being so humble through the multiple back-to-back awards and praise you get!!!! 

he cannot calm the fUCK down when you’re rubbing circles on his back

“you w-want to turn my play into a film?”

oh my gOD

you’re fumbling for the envelope and it’s only nOW that you realize that it’s not from seokjin in the first place

spring day a play by kim namjoon an invite for director y/n y/l/n

“it’s you!!!!”

“no it’s YOU!!”

jin’s plan worked alright :D

he’s just FOUR rows behind you lmao

it was just two weeks ago when yoongi, the executive producer of his film that he was directing, let it slip that he was co-financing a play

he met yoongi some semesters later after he became close with you, and he’s aLSO converted yoongi into hating theatre then he fit right in to your little posse of theatre kid-hating film students

that gave jin the laugh of his laugh and yoongi was not joking at all

“no, no. i’m telling you man. it’s different! i even have the script that i’ll let you read.”

and holy shit it IS different

if you see a couple tears on the last seven pages of yoongi’s copy of spring day’s script then mind yo oWN fucking business

then two weeks later, here he is :D

jin managed to also convert you to love theatre even IF it is namjoon’s play that did all the work

( also coincidentally found you a future boyfriend because he’s tired of seeing you alone and the closest you’d get to having someone is projecting your yearning into writing the scripts for the films you’d make )

he’s also secretly co-financed the whole play along with yoongi and he’ll drop that bomb later on lmao

“and that must mean i looked like a total FOOL beside you oh my god im so sorry!!”

namjoon panics at that, about to cry when another realization hits him when he’s about to put his head on his hands

“then that means the friend who gave you the ticket was-”

SEOKJIN VBFHSBVHSFBVSFHDVBSJFV SFJVJSFVSJVSSV SSV V FS FSV SFBVRBVRSVSWVGU

he cries to your shoulder and you never expected to be hugging and consoling someone you’ve just met two hours ago, a more than fond smile on your face he takes advantage of when he sneaks in the chance to ask you

“do you mean that?”

“now why would i lie to the playwright who’s been listening to me talk shit, then theorizing, then crying for the past hour?”

it’s true though

namjoon’s seen it all

he’s still handsome as ever even when he sniffles, his dimples on display when you return his question

“now did you mean it? writing me into your play?”

why are you even ASKING

:D

he’s the biggest fan of u

namjoon’s made notes of your work, dedicated scripts to your movies, and he’s thinking about how it’s not yet hitting you how your whole epiphany about the pink sweater turning brown on his play,,, was entirely inspired from you and your affinity for lighting in your films

he thinks it’s still a little early to kiss you on the cheek even if you’ve already hugged, instead settling on pinching your cheek with satisfaction present in all corners

“you’ve always been my muse.”

#feedback pls and thank you :D I WAS SCREAMING THE WHOLE TIME I HAVE A TEST TOMORROW I NEED TO SLEEP #namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon imagine #namjoon imagines #namjoon oneshot #namjoon oneshots #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon au #namjoon fluff imagine #namjoon fluff imagines #namjoon fic #namjoon fics #namjoon fic recs #namjoon scenario #bts namjoon imagine

[hhjs]

rewind, revive. (all that we are.)

pairing. — kim sunwoo x reader.

genre. — angst.

alternatively. — wherein letting go is all but a reminder of why he seemed to hold on.

mystery trope!

word count. — 2.8 k

note. — inspired the nbhd's 'wdywfm' and 'reflections'. (impacting characters exactly in that order of the songs.) this is unedited so bear with me lmao

Regret is a funny thing.

One can feel it approaching light years before the realisation hits. Like squinting at dim headlights in the distance, before the vehicle picks up pace, before the tires skid against wet gravel, before it finally, finally occurs that it's too late, too late to go back and walk away, to stop oneself from facing the impact head on. From having the air knocked right out of one's lungs.

Sunwoo knows for a fact what he is doing fits that criteria.

Something about the prevailing silence that comes after heated arguments is utterly eerie; being an on and off couple for the longest time indicated that you recognised that much.

"I think we should take a break. Figure things out on our own."

He looks at the little scar you'd gotten from accidentally ramming your toe into the doorframe because you were too excited to see him. (It's healing.) No, that's not right. From this position, sat atop the sofa, when he's holding his head in his palms as your tone rises mid syllable, that's all he can see. No, he can't look at you. He can't look at himself in your eyes now, dropped way below all expectations you held to him once, silhouette of his peeved face in them leaves a rancid emotion inside his belly.

"Is that what you really want?" You ask, this time with a slight hint of surrender in your voice.

Sunwoo wants to say he doesn't exactly know what he wants, what he is feeling, perhaps it's the aftermath of working too hard, taking on too much stress, or so Changmin explained to him earlier that week, he doesn't quite perceive himself as someone who could lament his problems easily - however, it's very clear to him that he is pushing you away, sealing himself off suddenly, missing out on dates, calls and falling short in the department of being his usual affectionate self.

Or maybe, Sunwoo doesn't love you anymore.

What if he's never loved you at all? What if whatever you have is all a resultant of mere infatuation and he was too young to differentiate from the start?

Whatever it is, Sunwoo isn't too sure, but you... obviously notice. He's always finding excuses to distance himself and it's changing you, who you used to be when he fell in love with you. In fact, every day is a constant evidence of just how disconnected your relationship is from how it was in the beginning, in the 'honeymoon stage' or whatever. The way he tenses up when you throw an arm around him every night he plops down against your shared bed too late, only entertaining your comforting words with monosyllabic responses; he seems to test your patience, trying to find your breaking point.

And this is it, he thinks.

What you suggested as an innocent movie night with him, trying to get him to talk to you, about anything, anything at all, soon took a bad turn when you reached out to interlock your arms and he found himself brushing you off.

It was just the same little act that piled and piled atop all of his 'little acts' and this final blow sent everything tumbling down, all at once. The way you stared at your spread out, empty palm as you asked him why he was being like this is an image he finds difficult to forget.

Albeit he doesn't hesitate, asking you to stop nagging him, to stop overreacting. To just leave him alone.

Now, with the weight of his words absent inside, all he senses is blatant emptiness taking refuge in its place, an epiphany that he can't take back what he said.

You don't say a word when Sunwoo's reply comes in the form of an affirmative nod and what's worse, he thinks, is that you don't look surprised.

As if you saw it coming all along.

...

When he agrees to put up with one of the double dates Eric set, it's because his friends are convinced that the relationship has reached a dead end. Sunwoo ignores that idea and indulges in what he perceives as newfound freedom.

Even though the excitement of getting to know someone new is momentary, replaced by a strong underlying feeling that nauseates him. Whenever Sunwoo looks over the candlelight and watches his date smile back at him, it feels like he's doing something wrong. Something hypocritical.

Recently, every day feels the same. Every hour melding into the same old routine. This is boredom, Sunwoo tells himself, though he's positive it's anything but.

It's quite a surprise not having chanced upon you by accident, given years of dating has merged your social circles.

Really, when he thinks about it, Sunwoo's known you for the longest time.

Since he was sure he would fail a calculus pop quiz and he kicked your chair to gather correct answers, you were so shy, innocent and how that sparked a sense of adoration in him for the first time ever, since you ended up becoming best friends in spite of your essentially different personalities. Sunwoo tries to remember the exact feeling of snowflakes collecting on his cheeks, in your eyelashes, his cool fingers in his pockets, while a street light buzzed overhead - not every detail is clear - but the sight of your beaming face as he timidly confessed his feelings is unmistakable. As time passes, he tries thinking about it more and more, afraid someday he'll look back and miss out the most essential rudiments of the event. Or worse, forget altogether. It's such a distant, fleeting moment that elicits a bittersweet sensation in him. Sweet because some part of him will always be entwined with some part of you, bitter because you were no longer together.

Sunwoo shakes his head, as though the gesture ought to come in assistance in ridding himself of the aforementioned thoughts. He's the one who wanted this whole break thing, right?

He pushes his trolley around, leans on the handle like he used to as a kid and paces up through empty lanes after looking around to see that the seven eleven store is mostly empty. He successfully breezes through aisles and throws in packaged kimbap, frozen fried rice and crisps to his trolley; and then, suddenly, a juice extract shelf in the distance catches his eye.

Sunwoo focuses his vision and marks his next destination, all the while imitating low humming of a makeshift engine with his mouth.

But of course, much to his dismay, his trolley jams right into another that approached out of the aisle to his side that he hadn't kept an eye on in moving only forward.

He mutters a string of quiet apologies, bowing briefly and hoping to God that the person hadn't heard him swear under his breath. "It's alright."

Sunwoo looks up and blinks curiously recognition washing over him.

It's only been a few weeks but the sight of your face, the real thing, not instagram photos, not the ones in his money bag or photo frames in his drawer, hits him with the force of a bullet train.

Your face is bare, shadows splattered against your forehead and the tip of your nose because you're wearing his - and he only realises now - ridiculously big, pink bucket hat, a hand casually positioned into a jacket pocket, there's something so endearing about this.

"Hey." Sunwoo says.

"Hey."

You stare at him for a good second and then as if realising something, you blink rapidly, fishing out a pear extract juice to dump it in his trolley. "Here."

It is an unspoken gesture, to relay that you still remember what he likes and what he doesn't like, that you've unraveled the likes of Sunwoo, excavated all the little, measly, trivial quirks, secrets and lies buried deep inside the cavity of his chest.

"Thanks." Sunwoo just stares, entranced.

It is only when he's back home, nuzzled into the comfort of his favourite blanket that still smells a little like you, does he realise he misses you.

...

"I don't care."

Sunwoo thinks he means it, like this, when he has a hoodie pulled over his head and balances a controller with great expertise, looking perfectly unfazed by Chanhee's comment about whether or not he should invite you to his party, it almost sounds true. "I just wanna see them." He settles. Time apart only reminded him just how impatient he could be when he wanted something and wasn't getting it immediately. He is seeing clearly, you're the only constant in the overwhelming vicissitudes of his life, the only one who saw him at his worst as you did at his best and stayed. That comfort, that very familiarity, is far better than the infamous honeymoon stage or any stage, for that matter.

Sunwoo realises that now. Even if it's just a little late.

Rolling his eyes, Chanhee pushes a grocery bag containing the former's snack and tears open a packet of honey crisps.

Prior to this confession, no matter how much Sunwoo insisted that he was fine, that his stare didn't linger every time he mistook a stranger for you, that he definitely didn't pretend to do the dishes even though he refused to do the chore under any other circumstances just to overhear his friends talking about a new event in your life, or just... about you, Chanhee doesn't believe him.

In retrospect, no one does. But Chanhee is least discreet about it.

"I don't suppose that's a good idea..." He pauses, swallowing, "What if things go south?"

Beneath an act of trying to untie the grocery bag, Sunwoo contemplates that he doesn't know how to respond to this inquiry, he had pictured your next meeting many a times, prepped himself to do or say very particular things, the way you always made up, time and time again forgiving each other in spite of all obstacles in your way, to a point where you friends got tired of you going back and forth, convinced that you could never really break up... - no, he is sure nothing can change, that's a blatant impossibility, Sunwoo knows you and you know him. No matter how much he fucks up - you know he'll always come back to you.

That's how it has always been.

"Figures, huh?"

Sunwoo scoffs, noting the way his friend's expression morphes to a confused furrowing of brows. He holds the yellow classic salted packet up instead whilst wrinkling his nose more than necessary, knowing the remark would prompt Chanhee to get annoyed and forget all about his own remark. “You got the wrong flavour again.”

The older male crumples a crisp in his palm and flicks it at Sunwoo.

The answer is simple, he'll never know if he never tries. Love is not chance but a decision, love is a choice, isn't it?

Well, Sunwoo chose you, he chooses you. He'll choose you over and over again.

...

"Can we talk?"

You nod slowly, a sigh escaping your parted lips. An expression on your face that Sunwoo can't put a finger on. But he doesn't have to, not when you comply so easily, joining him out into the balcony divorced from the apartment rife with noise and evidence of inebriation.

You lean over the railing, your eyes travelling far off into the impossibly dark scenery, the silence is imbued with a vague sense of eerie, the kind that ensues before something terrible happens.

All Sunwoo can think about is how beautiful you are. Suddenly, he feels guilty - see, he can't remember the last time he appreciated you, showered you with accolades you most certainly deserve. He mimics your position, turning his head slightly to take in every detail. Committing it all to memory. Things are different now. You look different.

Last time he saw you, he could map out the swollen quality of your eyes, nails bitten and chipped, the little characteristics that gave away you weren't doing well. Now, there's an indescribable glow to your face, something under the perfectly dolled up look, the red beret on your head, matched with an utterly fabulous coat that guards you from cool autums.

It's a new outfit. The discomfort is newer.

"You look great." He finally speaks and it's not the best way to start a conversation that's dangling by its last finger, akin to an inexperienced acrobat - he doesn't know what is.

You chuckle. "Is that what you wanted to say?"

"N-no...I just.." he pauses, the words all bundling up on his tongue into one big mess of sentences that don't make any sense. When you finally look at him, leaning back on your elbows now, Sunwoo gulps, this isn't a figment of his imagination, no, this is real. It's now or never. "I'm sorry." He starts, the mere utterance of those words seem to spark no change in your appearance. As if you're waiting for him to continue. Right now, apologies just aren't good enough. "This whole thing was so stupid. Baby I-I know I fucked up but... I love you. Okay? I promise I'll do anything to make it up to you. Whatever you want."

You stare at him for a long second, just letting his words sink in but also just seemingly allowing yourself to think. Then you push yourself up, standing straighter. "You dont have to." You say simply, a hint of finality laced into your tone. All Sunwoo finds himself thinking is how you don't reciprocate, uttering the same I love you like you always did. Out of habit.

He curls his fingers into fists, knuckles whitening and whitening under the strain. His vision is a blurring film against which you look like a faint silhouette, secluded by rivulets of raindrops racing down windows. It's embarrassing, how he feels, all those bubbling emotions reduced to that of a child being denied his favourite candy.

"W-What is that supposed to mean?" He blinks, finding that you're staring at your spread out palms. Like they're evidence for something you've done.

"Sunwoo." You say. It sounds like a warning, like a don't get any closer. "I don't like who I become when I'm with you."

At this point, Sunwoo just listens. In his mind, he hadn't foreseen this. He knew it wouldn't be easy, he knew he had to try his best but...this...losing you... that was out of question. Right?

No, he tells himself, he'll fix it, he'll get it together.

"You know, I was really angry at you for breaking up with me...but it was probably for the best." You produce a garbled laugh, lifting your face skyward, looking up at the glossy layers of pollution, of purplish clouds and the barely there moon behind, like you're reading off sentences from them. Sunwoo stares at you, he wants to reach out and trace the curves of your face without thinking twice, without holding back. "We did need time to think... and it made me realise that I've always loved you more than you've ever loved me. Heck, even more than I loved myself...and... I can't be that version of me again." You sniffle, "That's not love... That's devotion."

"Hey, don't say that!" He drags his fingers up from the railing and reaches out to touch your elbow, "Come on...we-we can work it out. We always do." These words , they come out all choked up and hoarse.

You stiffen up at the sound, "You're not listening to me." You shrug him off, adamantly piloting your gaze to linger away from him, your back's turned away from him but then you pause, just slightly looking over your shoulder and your gaze softens at the sight of him using his sleeve to dab at his cheeks. The gesture makes him feel hopeful, just for a second. 

Then you sigh, shaking your head, "Don't you get it?" You say, "We can't fix this...we can't fix each other.

Inexplicably, he thinks of a perfect world, where he could go back just once, where it all started, everything before, holding his head in his hands and the little scar on your toe and is that what you really want?

This time, Sunwoo would mutter a quick no. He'd flick on the television and snuggle into your side, talking mindlessly about something that makes you laugh.  To forget all about the stupid argument.

But in reality, he lets your words ricochet off of the walls, listening to the transient beats of music pouring into the balcony when you slide the door open to let yourself out. 

It shuts.

Everything goes quiet.

And this soundlessness, this solitude, he knows this, he's heard this, he's seen this, he's felt this, this... this is final,

 this is goodbye.

#ok i will admit tbat im not entirely proud of this aaa #kwritersworldnet #kwordsmiths #kim sunwoo imagines #kim sunwoo fluff #kim sunwoo angst #kim sunwoo x reader #kim sunwoo fanfiction #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo fluff #sunwoo angst #sunwoo fanfiction #sunwoo fanfic #kim sunwoo fanfic #the boyz x reader #the boyz imagines #the boyz fluff #the boyz angst #the boyz fanfic #kpop angst #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic

[anobscurename]

ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART XIV — masterlist

concept: the second night at the hamptons. you finally confess your feelings, but in the only way you know how. the slowest of slow burns. part fifteen of many.

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 1,2k

warnings: fluff and angst, maybe tears (i cried)

author's note: this is it. this is the singular scene and song that inspired this entire story. this one is dedicated to @efferuse and billie eilish :)

An unhealthy coping mechanism, that was what it was.

You could acknowledge that, but when you knocked back another shot – unsure of whether it was tequila or vodka anymore – and became a little bit more numb, you knew it was a necessary evil.

It was your newfound secret to loosening up and being more at ease around them, in spite of that little stab of pain in your chest every now and then when you'd spot the tiny – to innocent bystanders – yet utterly monumental – to you – signs of affection between the happy couple. The loving smiles that crinkled the corners of his eyes, the hand holding, the protective cuddle of his arm around her...

You had other people to speak to, and to hold your attention, and it didn't hurt as much. But that night...

You had been known to sing around the house sometimes, and were a little adept at the ukelele. Chris had heard you playing late at night when he'd get home from set, singing softly to Dodger. It always made him smile a little to himself, not that you'd noticed. But you knew he knew about your little hobby, seeing as on more than one occasion he'd seen you playing on the couch and – sometimes – he'd even join you and just listen, Dodger's head on his lap. You hadn't minded then, but you certainly minded now when he brought it up.

"Can we get some music going?" Sebastian groaned, rifling through the cooler box you had all managed to drag outside to the fire pit.

Chris gave you a mischievous smile, and you already knew what was about to be said.

"No. No. Christopher Robert Evans–"

"I know a little someone who–"

"–I swear to God I will–"

"–can play the uke!"

"–castrate you!"

Both of you had been a jumble of trying to talk over one another, you threatening his very possibility for future children and him outing your hidden talent. Or lack thereof. There was a reason you didn't really play for large audiences.

But they hadn't heard you, they had heard only him, and soon enough, everyone was asking – no, begging – for one song, just one song.

Maybe the alcohol had made you compliant enough to say yes, or maybe you knew they'd never let it go – whatever the reason was, you retrieved the ukelele from your room and sat down in front of the firepit once more, completing the seated circle around the soft ember glow. You had brought it with you, because what's a beach house vibe without some uke?

A song to sing... You battled your mind, trying to find one, just a single song to sate the people. Your fingers absentmindedly moved along the chords as you thought and...

One look at Chris, a soft, encouraging smile on his lips, and suddenly the perfect song came to mind. Looking down and away, you cleared your throat, and began to strum.

And then, in the gathered hush of the backyard, fire crackling and ocean waves crashing in the distance, you began to sing:

I've been watching you

For some time

You glanced up, fingers dancing over the strings. You found yourself magnetically drawn to Chris' gaze.

Can't stop staring

At those ocean eyes

He was transfixed, your voice, the music, that look you were giving him. It was like there was no one else in the universe, just you, and him, and that song. He swallowed thickly, his heart heavy and pounding dully in his chest.

Burning cities

And napalm skies

Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes

You knew it was wrong, to be doing this. But no song was going to capture the emotion you felt, at that very moment. Not like this. This song was too perfect to let pass, unsung. A mirror to your mind.

Your ocean eyes

You finally managed to tear your own eyes away and take a quick glance at everyone else. They were watching, smiling, listening in hushed awe. Feeling like it was better to look down, you continued to play, teasing the melody from taut strings.

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

You were staring blankly now, and although all eyes were on you, you only really cared about one pair, one pair of ocean blue eyes. But she was there, and she was kind, and beautiful, and she was who he belonged with. She was who he was with.

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Falling into your ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes

It was almost magic, some deep impulse to look at him again. You were completely and utterly drawn to him. But he wasn't smiling anymore. He had a new look on his face, one you couldn't quite discern behind a heated gaze. But you had a song to finish, and that look could be puzzled through later.

I've been walking through

A world gone blind

You finally managed to look at her, and she was nodding along, smiling, blissfully unaware of your emotions. Of the meaning behind the words. Of why you had chosen this incredibly relevant song.

Can't stop thinking of your diamond mind

What was that look he was giving you? What did it mean? He seemed deep in thought, as if something was bothering him. His brow was creased, pensive and attentive, eyes flickering over every micro movement you made, piecing together a puzzle that he had never really thought to piece together before. A puzzle that had seemed unfathomable to him. Fuck, did he know? Well, it wasn't like you were being subtle. Not with a song all about falling for someone with ocean eyes, and his were as blue as they come. Oceanic. Ugh, why had you not just kissed him? It would've been less obvious. You hid your growing panic by continuing. Just make it through, and try not to look at him again. Simple...

Careful creature

Made friends with time

He left her lonely with a diamond mind

And those ocean eyes

Easier said than done, your eyes travelled to his, and they met, and suddenly, it was like an understanding was passing between the two of you. You weren't being dramatic. He knew. He knew, and your heart was aching, and it looked like he knew that too. He knew how you had felt. Still felt. And if you let yourself admit it... how you'd probably always feel. But not only that. One quick glance at her, and it was like she knew too. The smile was gone from her lips, and you felt a wave of nausea hit you like a ten ton truck.

The last chorus left your lips shakily, but no less beautifully, and you were quick to silence yourself when it was finally done, setting the uke aside.

Uproarious applause broke the stillness from the other guests, Chris smiling tensely and clapping softly, but she didn't move. Didn't even blink.

But in spite of all that, you couldn't help but remember the way he looked at you. That realization. That little twinkle of something deliciously mysterious and unknown in those ocean eyes.

The tears in your own eyes hadn't registered until now. But, like a dam spilling over from heavy rainfall, tears were streaming, and you couldn't stop them.

"{Your name?}" Chris said softly, leaning forward. He was barely audible over the chatter of the other guests – who, after the conclusion of the song, had gone back to their idle drunken conversations – but you heard him. Concern laced his voice, evident in his eyes, his furrowed brow. "Are you okay?"

You waved him off dismissively, disguising your sniffle with a strained chuckle. "Yeah, just some smoke from the fire got in my eye."

You quickly stood, and used the replacement of your uke in your room as an excuse to exit the sudden tensities of the situation.

From the corner of your eye you saw Chris, worried, begin to rise – to check on you, no doubt – but she shot out a quick hand, lacing her fingers with his. She shook her head ever so slightly, but the intention was clear: don't go to her, stay with me.

Your heart sank with his silhouette as you watched him sit back down beside her, welcoming her into his arms as they looked out to the beach. His choice was clear. As was your rejection.

You shut your door behind you and cursed yourself for being so stupid. In what world was that a good idea? You basically serenaded him. You had finally given yourself away – truly, madly, deadly – and for what?

A mournful sob escaped your lips, one you fought to stifle with your hand to your mouth. Back pressed against the door, you sank to the floor, too weak to keep standing. Too weak to continue the charade.

And just like that, you broke.

You finally broke, because you knew you'd lost him.

Lost him, and his ocean eyes.

#chris evans/you #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #dina writes #chris evans #chris evans angst #chris evans fluff

[jackies-wearing-khakis]

Marriage and Murder Pt. 1 (Shelby!Reader)

a/n: I'm a bit disappointed I had to post this in two parts, but alas, the original one-shot was too long for Tumblr.

summary: Things get progressively darker as you try to survive Tommy and Grace's wedding night.

words: 3101

warnings: Themes of drinking and sexual assault.

 "(y/n), for fuck's sake, hurry up!" Polly shouted from the betting room. She, Ada, Finn, John, and Esme were dressed in formal clothes, waiting for you to get ready.

  "Five minutes, Pol!" you called from your bedroom.

  "I swear to God," your aunt said under her breath as she checked her watch. "It's her own brother's wedding and she's decided to take her sweet time."

  "What's taking her so long anyway?" Finn asked, bored to death.

  "She probably looks ugly as hell and can't stand to face it," John whispered, earning a chuckle from Finn and a smack to the back of the head from Ada. 

  "I don't care 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 she's doing, if that girl's not down here soon we're leaving without her." Polly huffed.

  What Polly and the others didn't understand was that you were by 𝘯𝘰 means taking your sweet time. If anything, you were practically tripping over yourself to try and find a dress to wear to Tommy and Grace's wedding. You'd accidentally ripped the dress you were supposed to wear the night before when you'd gotten your arm stuck in one of the sleeves. Now, you were caught between a rock and a hard place; go downstairs and face humiliation, or stay in your room and face Polly. You could tell today was going to be stressful.

  You were legitimately considering cutting off the sleeves of your dress entirely when Polly came bursting into the room without warning.

  "Pol, wait!" you shouted, instinctively holding your arms in front of your head for self-defense.

  "I don't give a shit if you're ready or not, we're going," Polly growled. She grabbed your arm, unknowingly pulling at the rip in your dress. With one strong yank, your aunt had doubled the size of the tear. The two of you froze in shock at the damaged material.

  "𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴, (y/n)," Polly muttered.

  "I know, it's awful." you sighed.

  As you stood there, Finn peeked his head into your room. Immediately, he saw your dress and gasped.

  "𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵, (y/n)." Finn chuckled. "What the hell did you do?"

  "Go away!" you shouted angrily. You grabbed one of your shoes and chucked it at your brother, hitting him in the shoulder. He stumbled out of the room laughing.

  You threw yourself face-first onto your bed in utter despair, sighing dramatically.

  "Oh, Pol, this'll be the death of me," you whined, your voice muffled by the covers. Your aunt rolled her eyes as she lit a cigarette.

  "Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Polly spoke. "We'll figure something out."

  It wasn't long before Ada and Esme had made their way upstairs and into your room. The four of you sat in silence, quietly brainstorming. Suddenly, Esme stood up.

  "I've got a dress that might work," she said, and immediately rushed to go fetch it. Your face lit up, and you excitedly hopped off your bed to go with your sister-in-law. Ada and Polly exchanged glances.

  You followed Esme into her and John's old room, where she was digging through her closet.

  "Now, (y/n), you're a bit smaller than I am, so hopefully this won't look too awkward on you," Esme said, tossing clothes in every direction.      

  "Now, if only I could find the damn thing."

  "What's it look like?" you asked.

  "See for yourself," Esme responded, pulling out a green shapeless dress with beaded lace embroidery.

  You gawked at the beauty of the thing; it was an excellent balance of elegance and youth. Not too modest, not too sexy; it was superbly tasteful.

 "Oh my God, Esme, it's perfect." you breathed. 

  "Hurry up and try it on!" she urged, pushing the dress into your arms. With that, she rushed out of her room.

  To your relief, the dress fit perfectly. You barely had any time to show it off to the others before Polly had rushed everyone out of the house and into the cramped car, practically dragging you all by the wrists. 

  The five of you slipped into the chapel quietly as you could. Tommy gave you all dirty looks as you scooted into the pews one by one. 

  "Where the fuck've you been?" Arthur whispered to Polly as she sat down next to him.

  "There was a complication," Polly answered. "Nothing worth worrying about now."

  "Complication my arse. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 one took forever to get changed." John scoffed, pointing his thumb towards you.

  "It wasn't my fault, the dress ripped!" you whined. 

  "It was 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 your fault, (y/n)," Finn added smugly.

  "I swear to God if you three don't 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘱 I'll drag you all home by the ears." Polly threatened under her breath. Nobody had anything to say about your dress after that.

  John grumbled as Grace entered the chapel.

  "Here come the fucking cavalry, late as usual." he griped.

  "I don't get it, why's everyone hate them?" you asked in a whisper.

  "Well, first of all, they weren't supposed to wear their uniforms. Just goes to show they're disrespectful bastards." John whispered back.

  "𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺? That's all it is?" you questioned.

  John sighed as he tried to find the right words for the situation.

  "Listen, (y/n), just stay away from them. Half those men are self-righteous pricks who'll take advantage of you if you give 'em the chance," he warned.

 "Hush." Esme chimed in, squeezing John's hand. "They're exchanging vows."

  Your gaze turned to the men in red uniform as Tommy and Grace stood at the altar. You accidentally locked eyes with a boy who couldn't have been older than twenty. Not sure what to do, you smiled politely at him. To your surprise, he smiled back.

   Your exchange was cut off by the sound of Jeremiah Jesus's voice filling the room.

  "I now pronounce you man and wife." he declared, and everyone in the chapel applauded as Tommy and Grace shared a kiss. You couldn't help but feel a pang of pride as you watched your brother smile at his new wife. There was something magical about the way he was able to just 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹 in her presence, especially since you couldn't think of another day Tommy wasn't trying to take over Birmingham.

  𝘖𝘩, 𝘛𝘰𝘮, you thought wistfully, 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦?

   Unfortunately, the warmth of the wedding ceremony quickly faded as everyone gathered outside for the family photo. Nearly ten minutes went by as the Shelby clan struggled to organize themselves into a tight group.

   You initially tried to stand behind Polly and Arthur to be near the other women, but that plan quickly failed when you realized you were too short to stand behind either of them. It was a tremendous effort to try to force yourself in between them, and the result left you in a painfully awkward position where you were left standing sideways. The ultimate solution was to have you stand with John's children; you were mortified.

  "Christ, I look like a 𝘬𝘪𝘥," you whined, showing the picture to Finn. The two of you sat together at the base of the stairs in Tommy's house, trying your best to avoid the crowds of people wandering the halls..

  "It's not that big a deal," he said plainly, taking the picture in his hands. "Nobody really cares."

  "It's a big deal to me." you mumbled.

   You could see John and Arthur approaching from a distance. By the looks of it, they'd already gotten their hands on some champagne.

  "Finn. Tommy wants a meeting in the kitchen." Arthur spoke as he passed by.

  "I should probably go with him." Finn sighed as he stood up.

  "Wait, take me with you!" you pleaded, grabbing onto his arm. "I've got nobody else to talk to."

  Finn quickly leaned over the stairs to check if Arthur and John had gone. Once he saw the coast was clear, he turned back to you.

  "Fine. But you shouldn't say anything," he advised.

  "Wasn't planning on it."

  You and Finn had assumed the meeting would be family only, but as you snuck your way into the kitchen you were surprised to find a swarm of Blinders men crowding the room. You instinctively stuck close to your brother, trying your best to avoid bumping into anyone. The two of you slowly hovered towards the center of the room, where the immediate family gathered. There Tommy stood in the midst of it all with a cigar in his hands. 

   "Right. Today is my wedding day." he began, and the room fell silent.

   "Yeah, and you said there'd be no uniforms, Tom." John interrupted, and a few people murmured in agreement.

  "In spite of there being bad blood, I'll have none of it on my carpet." Tommy continued, ignoring John's comment. "For Grace's sake, nothing will go wrong today."

   Tommy began circling the room as he spoke, making sure to lock eyes with every man present.

  "And if any of you fuckers do 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 to embarrass her, kin, cousins, your kids, your horses, 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.."

  Just as he was about to finish his sentence, Tommy noticed you standing there next to Finn. He froze for a moment, then furrowed his brows. You cursed under your breath.

  "What are you doing here?" Tommy asked, but it felt more like an accusation.

   You realized every man in the room had their eyes on you. You shifted uncomfortably.

  "It's a family meeting, isn't it?" you grumbled. "Last I checked I was a Shelby."

   Tommy sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes in annoyance.

  "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵? I'm glad you're here because there's something I should say." he began. You crossed your arms defensively.

  "You've been wild these past few months, (y/n), don't think I haven't noticed."

  "So?" you scoffed.

  "𝘚𝘰, I won't have any of it tonight. I swear, if I find out you've been drinking, flirting, or doing 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨  that might damage this family's reputation, I assure you that you'll live to regret it. 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥?"

  You didn't know how to feel about Tommy's words. In a way, he was right; you'd been drinking more than usual as of late, not to mention fooling around with some of the boys you were going to school with. You didn't understand why that was such a big deal though, especially since you were a saint compared to your brothers. Really, the whole thing seemed unfair.

  "Yeah, I understand." you finally answered. "I'll just spend the night boring myself to death while you boys do whatever you want." 

  "That's the spirit." he shot back.

  "Tommy, what about snow?" Isiah asked from across the room. You silently thanked him for taking the attention off you.

  "There'll be no cocaine," Tommy answered sternly. A few men in the room sighed.

  Tommy took the opportunity to get back to his speech.

  "No sport. No racing. No sucking the petrol out of their cars. You give them 𝘯𝘰 excuses to look down their noses."

  The room was uneasy. Nobody was sure what to think as Tommy stood there, almost desperately trying to talk sense into his men.

  "But the main thing is, you fuckers.." he began.

  "Why are you mad at 𝘶𝘴, Tom?" Finn mumbled.

  "..in spite of provocation from the cavalry.."

  Tommy walked along the line of men standing around him, getting close to Arthur, then John, then Finn, then finally you.

  "..no fighting. 𝘕𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨!" 

  And with that, everyone was sent out of the kitchen.

  The party started slow, and you found yourself wandering around the house aimlessly with nothing to do. Everywhere you went people were already drinking, and a part of you wanted nothing more than to join them. The other, more sensible part remembered Tommy's warning and decided to avoid alcohol for the night. As much as you wanted to piss him off and indulge yourself, you knew getting drunk would only prove that you were irresponsible. 

  Dinner in the great hall was an absolute disaster. You sat between Finn and Ada, who were both caught up in their own conversations. You were starving, and Tommy and Grace had been taking a suspiciously long amount of time to get ready. Even after they'd finally come downstairs, Arthur had to get through his speech before anyone could eat.

  "Now, I'm not one for speeches." Arthur began. The poor man looked like a deer trapped in headlights.

  "Sing then!" John shouted. Esme grabbed his arm wearily.

  "I've got a speech written down here. but it's not everything I want to say." Arthur droned on. You buried your head in your hands.

  "Arthur, just read what we've written down," Tommy said softly.

  "I will, Tom. But first, a few words from the heart." 

  Arthur gently placed the small piece of paper into one of his pockets, then cleared his throat.

   "𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬." Tommy breathed.

   "I'd just like to say that my brother helped me survive hard times. Trouble in my head.."

  As Arthur gave his speech, you noticed Polly staring at a man who sat opposite her. He was older than she was and wore a dark suit that matched his serious expression.

  "Who's that?" You leaned over and whispered to Ada.

  "Kaledin something," she whispered back. "Don't bother talking politics with him, I've already tried."

  Unlike Ada, you weren't interested in having political debates with strangers. Still, there was an air of mystery surrounding the man. Something about him made it impossible to look away, even when he met your eyes with his. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

  Arthur's trainwreck of a speech was eventually cut short by Tommy. You felt bad for your eldest brother, but you were desperate to eat. Polly gave you a disapproving look as you scarfed down your food, but you didn't care; you were too hungry to act like a lady.

  An hour had passed since the food was served, and by then everyone had made their way into the ballroom.

  John and Arthur had set up a boxing area outside with Tommy's reluctant permission. After hovering around Polly for nearly half an hour, you finally gave in and went outside to watch the fights.  

  You were used to seeing your brothers fight, so not much could faze you in the boxing ring. Tonight was different, though. The men had such anger in them as they landed their punches. It was almost disturbing to watch Finn get knocked into the ground by a man in a red uniform.

  "Gruesome, isn't it?" A voice asked from behind you. You turned around to face the very same cavalry boy you'd locked eyes within the chapel. Only now, he was standing a mere foot away from you and the two of you were practically alone.

   "William. Fraser." the young man said, extending his hand.

  You took his hand in yours and shook it. The dim light from the boxing ring illuminated your faces, and you were able to get good looks at each other. To your excitement, not only was he young, he was 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦.

  "(y/n). Lee." you introduced yourself, lying through your teeth. You were done being a Shelby today.

  "Mm. I thought you were a gypsy." William spoke. You raised your eyebrows in amusement.

  "Really? How could you tell?" you asked.

 "It's the dress. Very... 𝘣𝘰𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘢𝘯," he replied.

 "It was a gift, it's not mine," you assured, flattening the dress out. You suddenly felt a pang of self-consciousness.

  "Oh, well it suits you well enough." And with that, William placed his hand on your waist. 

   "What are you doing?" you asked, chuckling nervously. 

  "Enjoying myself."

  He slowly started to pull you into a kiss when you noticed Finn in the boxing ring. Another one of the cavalry boys had landed a particularly heavy blow onto his gut, and he fell onto the ground in defeat. You pushed William away to watch the scene.

  "You know him?" William asked.

  "He's my brother," you responded quietly, not taking eyes off Finn.

  "He fights well enough for a boy his size, I didn't expect him to last as long as he did." William retorted.

  "He's really good, actually. Likes it a lot, too," you said, relaxing as you saw Finn get up and shake his opponent's hand.

  William took the opportunity to pick up where you left off and started to wrap his arms around your waist. You hesitated and stepped back.

  "Wait, we shouldn't. Not in front of them." you gestured towards the crowds of people who were watching the fights.

  "Good point." the young man hummed into your neck.

  You lead William to a fairly secluded area of the gardens. There was a small, wooden bench that was nestled in between some of the bushes that lined the back wall of Tommy's mansion. The two of you sat together; there was an uncomfortable sexual tension between you.

  William kissed you slowly as his hands wandered around your torso. You kept trying to cut him off, but he was persistent. If you would grab his arm, he would use the other one to pull you closer. If you turned away, he would kiss your neck. 

  "William I don't think we should do this," you whispered.

  "Don't worry, love. nobody's around. You won't get in trouble." he assured.

  "𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, just stop." you pleaded.

  "Relax, I promise I'll make it worth your while.

  With that, you'd had enough. You started smacking your palm against his shoulder, and he finally separated. 

  "𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵? I thought you wanted this!" William snapped.

  "Why didn't you stop?" you asked him with a hurt look on your face. "I was 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 you to stop!"

   "𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯, don't act like you didn't want it. You took me out here for a reason." he countered.

  "I didn't think it would happen so fast!" you shouted.

 William huffed, stood up, then brushed himself off.

  "𝘎𝘺𝘱𝘴𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩." he spat, then walked away.

  "What the 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 did you call me?" you shot back. "Do you even know who the 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 I am?"

   William froze in place and turned around. He gave you a dark look as he lit a cigarette. The red glow of the tiny embers illuminated his face.

  "My name is (y/n) 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 Shelby." you hissed, and William's expression changed. 

  "You're related to the groom?" he realized.

  "I'm his sister," you spat.

  The young man sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair. 

  "𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵.. I had no idea. Let me make it up to you." he began, but you were already leaving.

  "𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶." you scoffed as you passed him. 

You made your way back to the ballroom, leaving William standing there alone.

 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, you thought, heading straight for a bottle of wine.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #shelby!reader #shelby!sister #shelby reader #shelby sister #shelby sis #polly gray #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #ada shelby #finn shelby #michael gray

[takamakisu]

Connected

This is a super indulgent fanfic where Mishima actually gets treated nicely by Akira and Co. so whoooo-

Being the admin of the Phan-Site, while a job of passion, was extremely tiring. Mishima spent many sleepless nights banning trolls, replying to comments, and creating forums. Life became a routine: go to school, do homework, manage the Phan-Site. Visit the shops, manage the Phan-Site. Eat, while managing the Phan-Site. Take a nap. Phan-Site. Phan-Site. 

Phan-Site.

Phan-Site.

Phan-Site.

His fingers flew like spider's legs over the keyboard of his phone and laptop, determined to carry the little world that he had created on his shoulders like a modern day Atlas. The Phantom Thieves needed him, he HAD to help them, he had to he had to-

Some jerk was going off about how the Phantom Thieves were "immoral" and "a danger to justice. Mishima automatically moved his finger to ban another troublemaker, then squinted at the username. 

DetectivePrince???

Mishima blinked once, twice, and belatedly realized that Goro Akechi himself was on his site, wanting to start an argument about the moral ethics of the Phantom Thieves. A ghost of a smile flickered across Yuuki's lips, and instead of banning, he clicked the "reply" button instead. This could be a once in a lifetime opportunity, why not humor it? After letting Akechi have it, an argument between the two ensues. Other users joined the fray and laughed at the detective prince, and Mishima smugly banned the annoying, stuck up guy once he'd had his fun. What a moron. Felt good, to finally be in control.

Unfortunately, Mishima hadn't been paying attention to where he was going, and he bumped into the door of the cafeteria, shaking himself to bring his surroundings to standstill. A mild blush painted itself over his cheeks and he looked around nervously to see if anybody had noticed- and of course they had. They were hiding their mouths behind their hands with shaking shoulders, and Yuuki felt a wave of irritation wash over. "Oh yeah, sure, laugh!" he snapped. "Don't you guys have anything better to do?" In a huff, he entered the cafeteria, then stationed himself at a table in the back, as always. And as always, he kept an eagle eye on the Phan-Site. It was the last thing he checked before sleeping (if he slept at all) and the first thing he looked over in the morning. The days began to blur together, and tired became his neutral state of being. But he kept at it, because they needed him, and he needed to be needed. It was the only thing he had going for him, only thing that made him worth something..

Another day at a table alone in the cafeteria, and Mishima blinked somewhat blearily at his phone, scrolling through threads as words began to blur together. And then suddenly, his device was swiped away, and the boy looked up absolutely flabbergasted into the bespectacled face of Akira Kurusu. "Hey," Yuuki cried when the shock wore off, eyebrows furrowing. "That's mine. Give it back!" He reached for it, but Akira held it up higher, and irritation erupted in Mishima's chest. Shooting up from his chair, he angrily stared the other brunet down and leaped for his phone, clawing at it desperately. "Stop it!!!!!!" 

"You are absolutely obsessed with this thing," Kurusu replied calmly, his tenor voice mellow as he kept the phone just out of reach. "Every time I see you, your face is buried in it. When was the last time you slept?" he demanded, eyes narrowing. The anger was shocked away, and Yuuki merely stared, unable to formulate a response. "You don't even remember, do you Mishima?" he frowned. Students were watching them now, mouths and eyes wide open. 

"Why do you care?" Yuuki challenged, anger washing over again. "Just give me back my phone. I need it," he hollered, and his voice broke and his vision began to blur as he reached up and up and up but it wasn't enough, it wasn't enough.

"Why do you need it, Mishima?"

"Because I have to run the Phan-Site and if I don't have my phone, I can't do that!!" Yuuki's voice shot up into the higher ranges to the point he was almost shrieking, and hot tears began to leak out of his eyes and he hated it, he hated it so much. Why couldn't people just leave him alone?! "GIVE IT BACK, I SWEAR TO GOD-"

Akira grabbed his shoulders and shook him mildly, grey eyes stormy. "STOP IT."  Mishima was stunned into silence, and his chest heaved. "Do you see what this thing-" and he held up the phone- "is DOING to you? You're so consumed with it that it's become like a part of you and you don't even know who you are without it anymore. The Phan-Site is not going to crash and burn if you're not there for one day. It is going to be fine. You, on the other hand, are running yourself into the GROUND. Do you ever take any time to yourself? Outside of this??"

Silence.

"This is an intervention, Mishima," Akira declared. "You are going to take better care of yourself. And I won't take no for an answer." With that, he pocketed the phone, and Yuuki stared hollowly, eyes and cheeks red from tears. "Now, come on."

"Huh? Where are we going?"

"You're coming to sit with me." Whispers began to rise like winds, and Kurusu turned on his heel to go back to his table. Mishima moved to follow him, but his surroundings became hazy and he stumbled, unbalanced. When did everything start moving….?

"Ngh-" 

"Mishima?"

He was falling. The next thing he knew he was in Akira's arms, and the whispers had gotten louder. "What's the matter?" Kurusu asked, concern heavy. Yuuki didn't answer. His head felt like somebody had stuffed it full of cotton, and he couldn't think straight. "Okay, um," the taller boy stammered, "let's just..let's go to the nurse, yeah?" Putting Mishima's arm around his shoulder, the duo made their way to the nurse's office. Thankfully Yuuki wasn't ill, merely overtired, and he drifted off after a few minutes. When he came to, Akira was back. "Mornin' sleepyhead. Time to go."

"Go?" Mishima echoed, turning his head towards Akira. "Go where?"

"Home. Classes are over for the day."

The shorter boy shot up like a rocket, eyes huge. "WHAT?! I slept that long!?" 

"Sure did. You gotta take better care of yourself," was the calm reply, and Mishima felt a prickle of shame. "And since you passed out before eating lunch, dinner's on me." Through the sea of people they walked to Leblanc, and Akira grabbed two plates of curry, setting one in front of Mishima. "Oh, I almost forgot," he said, "I got your phone still. Eat up, and then you can have it back." Yuuki began to eat quietly, and Akira did as well, comfortable with the silence. After a few minutes, Mishima put his fork down, surroundings blurring again, and bit his lip, burying his face in his arms.

"Woah, hey," the messy haired boy gasped. "What are you crying for? I knew Boss's curry was good, but I didn't know it was that good-"

"Why do you care?" Yuuki choked, scrubbing at his eyes. "Nobody else does. Not my parents, not anybody in the school, so why do- it's my fault your record was leaked it's my fault people hate you, Kurusu!" 

"Mishima, that wasn't your fault," Akira said firmly. "Stop taking burdens that aren't yours to carry. I don't hold that against you, okay?"

"I'm sorry," Yuuki muttered, because he didn't know what else to do, or say.

"It's not your fault. And to answer your question, I care because it's what friends do."

"..friends?" Mishima whispered, looking up incredulously.

"Yup, you're my friend now. So you're stuck with me. Whoohoo!" Akira grinned, and in spite of himself, Yuuki grinned back, weakly. 

"You're a great guy, you know that?"

"Nah. I'm just doin' the right thing."

"Sounds like something a Phantom Thief would say," Mishima replied with a knowing smile, and Kurusu's eyes widened slightly. "You thought you were subtle? I know that was you. I'll bet Sakamoto and Takamaki are in on it too. But don't worry! I swear not to tell a soul. That's what friends do, yeah?" he nodded, going back to his curry. "They keep‎ secrets." Akira nodded in reply. 

"Thanks for being our biggest supporter. Just remember to take care of yourself, too." 

After eating, Mishima went home, feeling significantly lighter, and he realized as he stepped inside he'd left his phone with Kurusu. 

….oh well. He'd be okay. He had a lot to think about, anyway.

The next day, Yuuki plodded along to school, and during lunchtime began to make his way to his regular seat. But a gentle hand to his wrist stopped him in his tracks. "Hey," a feminine voice said, and he looked up into Ann Takamaki's baby blues. 

"Takamaki-san??"

"Come sit with us," she went on, gesturing with her head towards the table with Sakamoto and Kurusu. "Nobody should be sitting alone!" 

Mishima blinked twice. "I don't wanna be a bother or anything-"

"You're not. Come on, silly!" Ann chirped, pulling him along to where her friends were gathered. Ryuji grinned at him from ear to ear, toothily. 

"Hey man! What's up?" 

"I'm...good?" Mishima ventured, hesitantly taking a seat. "Thanks for letting me sit with you guys, Takamaki-san."

"Just call me Ann!" she smiled, and he nodded, slowly. 

"Oh, uh- alright." 

Lunch was nice, and Mishima felt wanted for once. After it was over, he stood to go, but Ann tapped his shoulder. "Hey."

"What?"

"What's your cell? So we can keep in touch." 

"Oh uh..I don't have my phone on me."

"Really?" Ryuji questioned, eyebrows raised. "That thing's so attached to you it's like it's your girlfriend or something," he joked, playfully punching the brunet in the arm. Wordlessly, Akira passed Mishima his device, face set. A beat.

"Wait, why do YOU have-"

"Intervention."

"Ohhh," the blondes chorused, nodding and muttering in understanding. "So, Mishima," Ryuji went on, "I'm thinking about going to the arcade after school. You wanna come with?" 

Yuuki's grin is soft but full. "That sounds fun, Sakamoto. I'd love to."

"Ay man no need to be all formal and all that. Jus' call me Ryuji."

"Ah- okay Ryuji."

"Oh, hey!" Ann piped up, pulling out her 3DS, "Almost forgot to check on my town."

"You play Animal Crossing?!" Mishima cried excitedly, then shrank in embarrassment "Ah, sorry. I just- um."

But Ann just grinned at him. "Sure do! Wanna exchange friend codes?"

"What's so excitin' about picking fruit and talkin' to animals, anyways?" Ryuji wondered. "I don't get it."

"It's relaxing!" Ann huffed, puffing up her cheeks. Mishima nodded in agreement. 

"Yeah. The guy who created the game actually did so because he missed his family and he wanted the player to experience a sense of community," he explained, moving his hands as he talked. "It's helped a lot of people feel like they had somewhere to belong, if only for a while. You actually get closer to your villagers the more you talk to them too, and- they basically become like your friends!" He's rambling, and Mishima goes quiet, embarrassed again. "Um. Yeah."

"Huh. That's pretty cool," Ryuji nodded, and Yuuki grinned. 

Ann exchanged friend codes and phone numbers, and Mishima felt ten pounds lighter for the rest of the day. The arcade was really fun too, and the four of them went out to eat afterwards and by the time it was time to go home, Yuuki was tired, but in the best way. 

...he still hadn't checked the Phan-Site. Pulling it up, he was surprised to see that a post had been made by him, with several replies. 

Hey guys! I'm not going to be quite as active for a little while, I've been super tired lately. I'll still be here of course, but I need some time to recuperate. ~Admin

To his shock, an overwhelming amount of the replies were positive. 

That's OK! Take care of yourself! 

Your health comes first man no sweat

get some rest king u deserve it 

He's crying again. Maybe people really did care. Maybe he really didn't have to put every waking moment into this. 

..but who got into his account? His phone had a password so somebody must've hacked it to- 

He'd have to thank Futaba later. For now, he was going to bed. Akira was right. It wouldn't die if he wasn't there 24/7, and he had friends now; people who cared about him. Pulling up the group chat, he sent a text:

hey guys! i had a great time today. thanks for everything. 

Three dots appeared, and then Ryuji replied.

 [no prob bro]

[we shud hang out more]

Ann was next. 

[yw! we had a good time too :)]

And then Akira.

[nbd

im going to bed now gn]

[good night!]

Mishima put his phone away and drifted off, looking forward to school for the first time in a very long time. Life wasn't magically sunshine and rainbows now, but with 3 new friends, it was going to be a lot easier.

#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #yuuki mishima #akira kusuru #ann takamaki #ryuji sakamoto #akechi is here too but he's only mentioned so yeah #i really like how this turned out #i may write more of these cuz i really like writing mishima interactions with the main cast. #📖; jazzy drabbles

[boardbysara]

The Perfect Reason For A Breakup

He was dead set against having a long-term relationship with me from the get-go - I could tell. It was obvious. He basically - like any man - said it directly without saying it directly at all.

I pestered him about it for the entire six months we were seeing each other. At the end of our time together, though he said he loved me and would miss me... he still said directly, without saying it directly, that we wouldn't be together even if our circumstances righted themselves.

Of course I felt rejected. And of course, like any woman would, I agonizingly over-analyzed every single possible reason for his rejection.

There's the fact that I made the classic mistakes that usually make men run... but his love for me increased over those six months, so that doesn't really pan out.

There's the fact that we are both passionate about our faith practices which differ enough that neither would really convert to the other person's. But he was ready to commit to his previous lady who also didn't share his faith, so this reason also doesn't pan out.

There's the assumption that I'm just not pretty enough. I was, as admitted by him, not his usual M.O. when it comes to physical appearance. He usually goes for shorter, chubbier girls. I am 5'6'' and skinny. He literally called me "a skinny." I was his "first" skinny. But he repeatedly and earnestly told me that I am beautiful and sexy in ways a man had never done before, and the man could not keep his hands off me. So that doesn't really pan out.

There's the fact that we do not share the same ethnicity and therefore the same culture. He's very passionate about his culture. I love his culture too! That's why I date guys from it! But of course that's not the same as me being from within it (but gosh how much I wish I was. I swear I was Latina in my past life!!) Except his previous lady wasn't either. So again, it doesn't pan out.

It only leaves one thing left, and while I was praying last night, I felt like God confirmed it:

It's the fact that I'm white collar (and he's blue.)

We never had a conversation about it, but he made comments. I could tell that he has some strong feelings about it.

It did make for some gaps in our emotional connection. I'm a writer. I blog. I self-published a book. I have plans to publish more. He would always make comments about how he "doesn't read." (Not technically true, he is literate, but he doesn't read for enjoyment.) He joked that was why he wouldn't be able to read my books. Ummmm. I definitely need to be with somebody who will read all of my books (front to back)! I want someone I can read books WITH and discuss them together.

There were differences in our perspectives and knowledge that I felt were glaring sometimes and were obviously rooted in a difference in education and exposure.

I knew if I'd taken him home to meet my family there would be some awkwardness... or at least a bit of a barrier to him being able to bond with my family simply because the conversation would be about things he didn't know about or take an interest in.

I could sense the effects of that cultural gap, but I would never judge him for that. I would never write him off as a long-term partner for any of that - for being blue-collar.

I get the sense he does though. He wrote me off. He'd written me off before he'd given me a chance and then he grew to love me in spite of it but it didn't erase the effects of it. Not enough for him, I guess.

His previous lady was blue, too. And the one before that.

And as I'm writing this, it makes me sad, but knowing this also brought me peace.

I REALIZED THAT IF YOU ARE GOING TO REJECT SOMEONE, THIS REASON MEETS THE CRITERIA OF THE PERFECT REASON.

It's not about the subject matter - it's not about the blue collar/white collar reason. It's about the parameters of the reason.

Think about it!

I can't change it - so I don't need to freak out and stress and try to change it.

I'm not inferior because of it. I have absolutely nothing to feel bad about!

I can't be mad at him for it! I mean, I'm sure lots of other people would be mad - I'm sure lots of people reading this are finding fault with him for it. But I can't. Because being with someone who is from the same culture (even if that culture is based around which working/educational class you fall in) is one of those things that makes you feel more at home with a person - makes you feel like you have things in common, like they understand you. And I understand wanting someone you feel at home with - I do too! And I could feel the gap in that between us at times too.

I can't be jealous of another woman for being the opposite of me in this. (Because being jealous of someone for NOT having a college education is illogical. It just doesn't happen.) His next lady might be shorter than me (I've always wanted to be shorter than I am), she might be what I would consider prettier, she might be Latina, she might partake in his faith, and I might feel a tinge of jealousy for all those reasons because they eliminate barriers to being with him (and he is a great man.) But they're not the reasons that I'M not with him. There is ONE reason why I'm not with him - according to all the possible reasons why he could have been against a long-term relationship from the get-go - and it's not one that I can possibly be jealous of.

All of which means I can't really be jealous or mad about his future relationships.

All of which means we actually have a much higher chance of maintaining a genuine friendship. (Except now I don't want that.)

That list, ladies and gents, makes up the criteria for the perfect rejection of a person/relationship. Something you can't change, that isn't a flaw, that you can't feel inferior for, or jealous of, or angry about - and allows the preservation of a friendship if you want it.

I can't lie and say that I don't want someone who fills in the gaps that we both felt - I do! The difference between him and me is that I don't see being blue-collar as a deal-breaker. I think someone who is blue-collar could still fill in those gaps (of me needing more intellectual stimulation) as long as he was a reader.

You don't need to go to college to be smart and get a great job... but in order to have real knowledge and a broader worldview, you do need to read books. This is proven in myriad stories of some of our world's most successful entrepreneurs. So a degree isn't a requirement for me - but books are.

I didn't see his blue-collar status as being an impediment to our relationship, but he does. And I can't force the man to read books.

But I can rest easy knowing that his rejection was one that cuts out all the angst and drama.

FAQs:

If he knew he wasn't going to have a long-term relationship with you from the get-go but proceeded to hook up with you anyway, doesn't that make him a douschebag? Yes. Yes, it does. But he has acknowledged it, apologized, and embarked on the road to change. I.E., is no longer taking advantage of me and my feelings and is working on no longer being a douschebag, in his own way.

If you could tell he was dead-set against it from the get-go, why did YOU keep hooking up with him? Because I naively thought I could change his mind. This is a very common mistake women make. The answer is no - you will never change his mind, no matter what his reason. It just so happened that his reason was something I very truly cannot change. I learned A LOT from this short-lived relationship that will definitely be covered in future posts.

#breakup #relationships #heartbreak #whitecollar #bluecollar

[alchemisland]

Moors Mutt - Chapter I part II

The tavern's proprietor Lar was a man out of time. With mauling arms folded across a simian chest, those big lugs like trophy handles either side of his substantial forehead, he could have easily passed for a saxon reaver. He stood against a backdrop of coloured glasses, bottles and casks in strange order and shape as decor an alchemist's laboratory. He stirred to life with a scowl, seemingly perturbed by my proposed custom, and when his grim eyes flitted toward the doorframe where I stood they never left me, tracing my gait, measuring my intent by my caution. Unlike the merry keep of fireside tales, he offered no warmth in greeting. That you were found fit to sit his barstool was kindness enough.

Inebriates remained nursing drams, glowering at their respective lecterns. I sat pacified. A loud mind had been quieted briefly. I contended only with the surprising potency of his ale. Lar, though tireless, worked without grace or speed. Machinelike, he filled the chalices of his regulars to the brim, every interaction wordless but for a grunt.

In a rare idle moment I signalled to him. 'This is probably going to sound strange, possibly it is, but hear me out first. Have you ever heard or seen anything strange around here? On the moor perhaps?'

Widened like an owl, Lar's right eye scanned me once, twice, three times before he stirred. 'I have, in fact. Not now. Too crowded. Later.' His lips barely moved, his eyes fixed on a distant point, a picture of practiced subterfuge.

I tipped my nose. 'Mum.' Tantalised and impatient, I was nonetheless pleased as my integration thus far. Lar hadn't time of day to speak of books or art, he was a philistine it seemed, but the mere mention of high strangeness set his eyes burning, every inch of his forearm torqued and tight to the bone.

Nearer closing, he poured a cup and sat, remaining on the business side opposite, across the lay of defaced oak. Wide-shouldered and stacked in flabby layers like a wedding cake, he had the look of an old warrior too worn to die in battle, ballooned and sore, fierce still. He seemed to strain at the weight of his own bulk. How the desires of youth, to be fierce and feared and pleasant to observe, we wear like shackles at the winter wilting.

When at last Lar mounted his stool, a difficult task as he was forced each time to rediscover the centre point of his vast behind to avoid tumbling backward, he leaned in close. 'The beast, you say?' One eyebrow he raised, its shape the arching rod of a hooked line. 'I could tell you more than a tale about the beast.'

'Prithee speak, my curiosity burns. I won't rest until it's satiated. Tourist talk begone, do you believe, as men do God, a beast prowls these lands?' I inched forward, that as if by closer proximity the truths would be made truer.

'Regular Theseus, is that it? Of monster hunters we know much. Lovers of dark arts also. All are served here. Kings and paupers. Did you come all this way to hear me say that?' Lar spoke with great confidence. The particular manner of his prattling compounded my sense that the tales he told were perhaps practiced.

'No.' I replied 'I have business in the cottage. Let me state directly; I am neither quack nor séance holder. I am not of low learning, a prover of falsehoods; rather I am a lover of stories. Pray, continue your captivating narrative.'

Lar continued. 'Let it be said I was coaxed. You asked.'

In this ominous portent he let slip a mask of deft craft. There was artifice in his smile, a cheshire grin that touched either cheekbone. A whispered suggestion of hidden intent.

'Enough pussyfooting. Spill it. I'll need all the advice I can get.' Like a drill tip, I pressed my index finger into the bar.

'No matter what image I conjure in your mind's eye, the beast is yet more ferocious and terrible in the flesh. It's the great unreality of it.' He tapped his forehead. 'Your mind doubts what it's seeing, unable to comprehend its stimulus. Brave men are made mice in its gaze.'

'What evidence have you of such a creature?' I asked, draining my tankard. He looked me over once, as if to ask who I was to question. I returned a withering gaze, maneuvering my features to convey a similar message. For a moment the air felt charged with kinetic possibility. As when two pugilists circle to begin a contest, lead hands pawing.

Lar broke the armistice. 'Evidence? If you didn't think it weren't here, you wouldn't have come. If you believed in your heart you'd be contending with a monster this week, you'd have stayed at home in your jams.'

'Nonsense, man! You forget I am not here of my own volition. Business has portended our introduction. What we speak of is.. Extracurricular.'

'We, each of us, tell ourselves sweet little lies to justify how our limited time is spent. I have a right mind to think if the lady yet lived up in the big house, you and I might still have met. On a yawning stretch such as this, arriving as you have: alone and curious. If there's one thing I can't respect, it's a self-hating believer. Swanning around with all the cynicism of a non-believer, clad in the robes of an adherent, so that when the hobby is proved spurious you can point to your skepticism. You'd be first to the papers tomorrow if scientists verified the beast's existence, how you had journeyed and studied on your own dime to further the science.' Lar pursed his lips, knowing he'd cut me to the quick, vanished was his earlier reticence.

I hated how right he was. I was exactly this sort. Insulting people who believed the same things as me. First to refuse to enter a haunted house for fear a demon might take my soul.

I'd never concede his point though. I riposted, 'Few are more loathed than the opinionated barman. You speak much too readily. Do so again, I'll see your manners are checked for the next weary traveler willing to pay good coin.'

Lar's eyes lit, bulging with imagined riches. 'Let me fill your drink, sir. I meant no offence. We speak freely here. Manners soften. Soon one finds truths cannot be digested unperfumed. Here in the wilds, it's a duty to voice quarrel. Far from crown and court, unaired anger festers.' Lar, as soon I would learn, dispensed his pearls of rural wisdom free of charge.

'Really, man. Every idea can be made ridiculous if extrapolated to that degree. Manners take the edge off. I'm not offended by your candor. I intend to find the creature, if such exists. Have you no doubt about that.' I watched him pull another drink.

The returned tankard was too full to raise without spilling. I bent to the lip and like a pulled plug, drained half in a gulp.

'What evidence is sufficient? Look around you.' Lar held aloft his hands, urging me toward his empty business, still cast in a sickly light from the last flickering sentinels. He pointed toward the empty seats. A single patron remained hidden in the shadows. A local by his boots.

'We did a roaring trade before that bloody woman inherited the place. Once she came, the trade died. When I was a lad, that land was free to roam. No walls. She had them built to spite us. Worse rumours too I have heard, that those walls were built to contain it.'

'It?' I asked

'It.' His voice lowered to a whisper. 'A cage for a pet beyond control. That's your sort all over.'

'Her sort.' I corrected, 'I'm not aristocratic. You're a presumptuous sort, you know.'

'Believe you're not the first to say. Her sort, whatever pleases. I don't subscribe to this particular theory. Me personally, I think it's from hell. One thing's for certain, it got worse when they shifted the stone.'

'You say you have seen it?' Part of me thought I was stringing him along, but another more gullible me firmly believed he had seen something. 'With your own eyes if you saw it, you must swear it. Did you see it as I see you now, or as one sees distant stars and erroneously assumes knowledge.'

'As I stand.' Lar gestured to his stained apron, which he promptly removed and slung on a hook overhead. He nodded to the sole barfly, who stumbled from his seat and shot the bolt across the lock, an angry black mechanism like a bas-relief. 'That's Fergus.'

Fergus lurched over. One leg trailed behind him. I couldn't help imagining him a gothic manservant, dragging corpses to the laboratory in pursuit of higher knowledge. He came to stand beside me. There were giants on the earth in those days. Though our eyes observed the same setpiece, his countenance betrayed little comprehension. With the chiseled jaw of a bust in profile, head-on his mouth, ringed by ever moist lips, was pursed like a fish. He placed one enormous hand at my shoulder. Such space was permitted between his fingers splayed that ten legions abreast might find passage unmolested. His knuckles protruded unnaturally, evidence of labour or something harder than masonry. Mayhaps soldiering.

He never looked at my face. I coughed, first mannerly, then more harshly, thinking to approach cautiously lest my assumption prove provident, that he had lost his sound during foreign campaigns, of whose spoils we all were beneficiaries.

'Don't mind him.' Lar said. He spoke softly in the presence of his friend, observing his movements closely, ready to interject with a steadying hand or a warning to the cruelly curious. I wondered were they brothers. They bore little resemblance, though stranger things I had heard. Lar took Fergus' wrist and pressed gently, disturbing the folds of his motheaten jacket. They shared a moment I could but observe, radiating warmth and glad tidings in a wordless wave.

'I mean not to speak boldly, and lash me with spite if I transgress overmuch, but I must know or I should forever wonder, are you kin?' I asked.

Fergus shared Lar's laugh with a similar look of bemused ignorance.

'Hear that? Fancy man reckons we're brothers. Probly thinks we're all related down this end. Not in a godly way either.' Lar let a viking bellow.

Lar released his grip and the folds of Fergus' sleeve righted. He spoke an octave lower, miming offence at my observance. I poised to explain I had intended no hidden subtext, which Lar waved to indicate all had been taken as delivered.

'We are not brothers. Close friends. Known Fergus here forever.' He gently tapped the giant's hand, slapped on the bar like an enormous muddy bird print. 'Used to be a keen cookie once upon a forever ago. Loved languages, Welsh mostly. Pugilism he loved more. One passion consumed the other. Anything burning intensely inevitably cannibalises itself. Took one knock too many, stole his wits in an instant. A left hook across the bar sent him erstwhile. Twenty five minutes he was on the shores of night, learning the landscape of the dreamworlds, while we fanned his rigid form, wet his brow and whispered familiar names in his ear. When at last he woke a part of him was left forever in that place. I like to think, boyishly perhaps, it awaits him upon leaving this plain of lousy strife, like the belongings awaiting a homeward jailbird. The cloak of a lost lifetime. Not for him. He'll slide right into it, fit like a tailored piece, and all of eternity to speak. Not here though.'

Tears welled in his eyes. I took the reins, 'Think nothing of your emotions, man. We each have them. Doubtless I will shed a tear up in the old witch's place. Another life awaits, that much is sure. Grander than this. I'm sure he makes a fine man. Built like a gladiator. I am sorry to have dredged unpleasantness. I meant only to satisfy a selfish curiosity. Forgive me. Please continue.'

'I will at that.' He cleared his throat.

'It were one cold night three years ago. Fergus was there. We'd been called out on account of strange noises near the workers' cottages. They wouldn't work until the supposed evil was driven away. We came down from the high road proper and there it stood bold in the copse. Like a horse it stood, with clumsy stilts supporting an ursine bulk that swayed as it shambled. It drank shadows to conceal its dread presence. Blackness it took for robes. In walking its front paws propelled its cumbersome form, while the rear set, less lengthy, dredged channels in the dirt. In motion it arched to reveal a belly spun of lighter felt, ashen in the scant moonlight. Bundled it became an orb of shadow, nothingness. Unbeknownst we watched it watching, green eyes like blazing protostars probing for movement. Well it knew to choose this place, with one of only two wells located nearby. In a flash it was gone, satin-shoed away into the night.'

The tale Lar knew was a scorcher paused. He beamed, an actor awaiting applause. I gathered my jaw from the floor, brushed and set it properly.

Each word drew me closer, which Fergus mirrored, until we three sat as witches about the bubbling lip of a cauldron, a coven of pallid specters.

Lar sipped and nodded we join.

I wondered had my hobby in a blink become too dangerous to justify. It was well telling my employers of ghost hunts, but a wild beast - my insurance wouldn't have it! If it turned out some menagerie escapee, what then was it? Quest for wonder or recklesss folly? Weiss, Wellie and Wardun insurance, even in their most obscure policies, don't pay out for fools. That's why I chose them!

As Lar went on, a fresh cigarette painted the air blue in his articulation, 'Each shifting moon we came to that spot. We had taken it upon ourselves to rid the land of danger. Fergus knows a bit about a bit, that's what's left to him, God bless. What he knows is knots. Army training dictates every officer have at least passing knowledge of ten or more useful fastenings. Me? I know about animals.'

'A fierce duo, I'm sure.' I beamed, ensorcelled.

'We inquired about a reward, to which the estate responded agreeably, so we set off with rope overshoulder and the angriest traps the furmen could spare, determined to snare it. We planted snares all about its presumed domain. Nothing came. Not a rat. Not a wisp. Not never again. It's the mystery disturbs me most. I'd die happy knowing.'

In his voice a single note of longing rang and dispelled the subterfuge of his intentions, and twas far from the sinister goldlust I had silently attributed him.

I observed Lar, now powerful and straight. I asked 'Do I sense an unfinished quest?'

'Aye. Not too subtle, mind.' Lar flashed a toothy smile, the sort a condemned man spits at his executioner. 'You seem a serious man. I didn't know when you first came in parading your manners like fancy knickers. You can't be too sure about a man who gives too many pleases. You're not that sort and have proved such twice over.' Lar imagined that was a compliment from the look he gave. Expectant almost, between child submitting scribbles for display and cat batting dead mouse onto pillow.

Well, of course I had something to say. Cats were hissing. A donnybrook of claws and torn fur not even a hearty stock of iodine could salve. 'And I might say also that I too had cast aspersions on your character, maintaining you were of sinister country stock. As you claim to have been rapturously convinced otherwise, as have I.'

'Once the lady's estate is divided and bequeathed I'll receive my own. I mean to inherit a substantial bursar. I will pay to you a fair sum. In exchange, you will guide me to the hotpots. When we find it, you're in charge until it's bound.' If he came, it would be on my terms.

'Find it? Slow down. We've seen it once in a hundred times. I'll take you gladly all the same.' Lar agreed, quite fairly.

Wordless, we shook and drained our horns.

'Tomorrow?' Lar asked. He drew my gaze to an unopened bottle of whiskey, which I declined.

'Not so, good man. Tomorrow I will tend my affairs. In the evening, if all is ordered, I will return to discuss further a plan of action. Have you a room I might rent?' I yawned, suddenly quite exhausted.

'Not for everyone so don't go saying. There's one in the back. I'll light the fire.' Lar's manners had briefly returned at the notion of payment.

'Please do.'

I left a generous tip. A productive evening assuredly. Before following the publican to his warm hollow, I shook Fergus' hand, assuming he too would be part of our fortean friendship.

While I slumbered the nightmare broke free her paddock and thundered across the veil of my somnambulant phantasmagoria, its clanging hooves rang shrill terror.

I saw spined creatures oozing pus, many-eyed. Edgeless orbs hissing like flying snakes from one black abyss to another.

Cats with human faces screamed. A hairless man with a tail curled upwards like a scorpions pike disemboweled himself with a broken mirror.

Last came the bestial form, not unlike that which Lar had described, striding evilly. Two venom coated fangs, uncontained by its snarling mouth, curved inward toward its breast. Catlike claws glinted menacingly. Turning my third eye downwards as if to look upon my feet, I found myself formless, yet the beast circled knowingly around the space my corporeal form should occupy.

I knew instinctively this reverie was more tangible than the other eerie visitations, and that if the beast should strike I would die or wake screaming with a crimson pool spreading below. It sniffed the air, pawing closer.

I woke to my beastless chamber. Sodden, I sought a candle and in its gloam chronicled my nightmare. That night sleep ne'er returned, making groggy my morning plod toward Cairn Cottage.

More.

#horror #creative writing #wattpad #writing #amwriting #horror writers #writeblr #Folk horror #Mystery #Dark fiction #Short story #WIP #My words #Shorts #Hellhound #Paranormal #Prose #Dialogue #Descriptive prose #Characters #Nosleep #Creepypasta #Scary stories #Monsters #TBC #Horror lovers #Irish writers #Writers of Tumblr #Wattpad