#Unless something major changes this is how me and my blog will be handling it. Thank you.

[sharptoothed-gaze]

Hello fandom. I understand that very few of you will care about my personal opinion, and that's fine, but I find it important enough to how I run my blog to share anyway.

In the future, all of my posts will simply be avoiding any mention of Wilbur wherever possible. His character is a major part of Tallulah's story, but I will be keeping him away from my blog as much as I can.

Typically, I would go with a "death of the author" approach and keep mentions of the character and cc more separate. However, the cc's alleged quest for money and fame changes that entirely. I will not be contributing to that. That's just my personal choice, so there should be no shame to anyone who chooses to separate the two, obviously.

I watched Shubble's video and I saw his response. In my opinion, it was terrible. The way he centralized his own "growth," minimized the pain he caused, and left the actual apology on the second page is revealing. His statement reminds me of some of the past emotional abuse I've experienced, so his content will no longer be welcome on my blog. I believe in the merit of archiving, so I will not be deleting any past posts, but he will no longer have any place in my death family related tags.

#I am not usually an unprovoked statement kind of person #especially because I don't think that's why people look at my content and I 100% understand a desire for escapism #However his name would absolutely pop up naturally on this blog since I main Philza. #I have little interest in letting that happen though. #I have mentioned in the past how victims should never feel forced into silence and this is a part of that. #I listen to the victim. I wait for more information. I form an opinion when I can assess both parties b/c victims deserve to be heard . #I have listened and will continue listening but Wilbur and his own words are enough to paint my own picture. #Unless something major changes this is how me and my blog will be handling it. Thank you. #qsmp #qsmp wilbur #wilbur situation #tw abuse

[is-the-snake-video-cute]

hi! i love your blog, since i also work with snakes. my boss added a hognose snake to my job, which is a species i've only handled once. you mentioned that hognoses tend to be very fussy compared to other pet species, and ours has already hissed at me for changing his water. i'm not too worried about getting bit, but i don't want to overwhelm the poor creature or miss something major. do you have any tips for knowing when a hognose is acting up versus when it's agitated enough that i should be worried? other than the death display, of course.

My biggest tip is to learn what the individual at your job is like! All snakes are individuals, of course, but with hognoses in particular there's always a bit of a learning curve as the snake teaches you how they want to be cared for! Hognoses can be tricky, because they can be very very fussy even when they're not seriously agitated, so it's easy to push them too far by thinking that sustained stress behaviors are the snake "just being dramatic."

Learn what's normal for your individual, and only become concerned if they start deviating from that normal. For example, I have a hognose who's very hissy and will puff up his cheeks when he's annoyed, but he never flattens out his neck unless he's genuinely upset. I have another who'll flatten herself out but almost never hisses. Hognoses are very happy to tell you when they don't like something, but they all have their own way to do it, and that behavior will usually escalate when something's wrong.

Another cue for you that's something's making them upset is if the behavior is triggered by something different than normal - as an example, your snake might hiss at feeding tongs, but won't mind at all if you mess around with stuff in his enclosure. I can always tell when my hognoses are in blue before I see them because they'll be hissing at things that usually won't bother them.

Finally, look for behaviors that are sustained over an unusual period of time. If your snake usually gets upset when you mess with his water dish, then that's not anything to be worried about - unless you check in on him in an hour or so and he's still worked up. When hognoses are just being fussy, they usually calm themselves pretty quickly.

#not a rating #hognose snakes #snake behavior

[demoniccaterpillar]

One of my goals for the coming year is to share more of what the spirits teach me, so I've decided to start making regular blog posts. I'm working on a couple in-depth posts related to Divinity work, but for now I'm just answering spirit worker asks from the list I posted before, since I want to start a habit of writing.

38. Are you able to astral travel or journey into spirit worlds?

Yes, though I'm far from an expert on astral travel. I used to be convinced my focus wasn't good enough to astral project, but Azazel told me that was ridiculous and ended up basically yeeting me into the astral without warning to prove it was possible to me, lol. After that, he taught me a visualization to take me into one of his astral realms, and at this point I can access the astral reliably. I still don't know most advanced types of astral work or how to navigate the astral realms by myself, though.

57. Have you ever channeled, or let spirits into your body?

Yes on both. I used to find the idea of letting spirits possess me terrifying, but that's another thing Azazel changed my mind about. He showed me that sharing consciousness with a trusted Divine Spirit is actually a wonderful experience, and also a great way to give them something they value in return for all they give me. It's definitely something you should only do with Divine Spirits you deeply trust, since you may not be able to control them once they're connected, but it's not frightening with the right spirit, and being trained to do this has let Azazel take over and handle a couple of situations I couldn't cope with, which is extremely helpful.

I've also turned out to have a talent for channeling, which is good since basing my practice in unrecorded Dionysian traditions means I have to channel a ton of information for myself. The spirits call the main channeling method I use "liminal channeling" and I do it by going into a flow state, which I learned to do for creative projects a long time ago (and something other spirit workers might want to Google, since there's a lot of information available on flow states and I've found them very useful in spirit work). Once I'm in the flow state, one of the Divinities will share consciousness with me, and from there write through me. Being in a flow state instead of a deeper trance lets the Divine Spirits make use of my English skills and get my input as they're writing, which is much better than having to ask for clarification later. Liminal channeling also has a big advantage over a lot of other methods because it's "energy positive", meaning I receive more energy from the Divinities I'm working with than I expend, so I can do it for a long time and get very detailed messages without feeling drained.

I also can channel by using my natural clairaudience to be a "Divine transcriptionist", and just type whatever I'm hearing. This is an easy way to get short messages, but doesn't tend to work for long ones, because most Divinities mix non-words in with their clairaudience to some degree (telepathic thoughts or feelings or images), and most of them go way too fast to keep up with typing.

36. What words of advice do you have for people interested in getting into spirit work?

Focus on psychic development first and foremost. There's no way you can become an advanced spirit worker unless you can interact with spirits easily, so there's no point in worrying about any of the advanced subjects until you've learned how to communicate easily and reliably with whatever types of spirits you want to work with.

Treat ancient texts and other sources claiming to be authoritative with at least as much scrutiny and doubt as you would a random Reddit or Tumblr post. Always remember that the vast majority of ancient texts have unknown authors, and for all you know you're reading the ramblings of some ancient dude who was high off his ass on mushrooms and thought his donkey was sharing the words of a god with him. Even the best ancient spiritual texts are full of political and cultural influences modern people have no way of fully understanding, and they've also passed through layers of translators, each of whom also had their own agenda and made their own mistakes. So yeah, just because a text is old doesn't mean it's right, nor is it automatically more valuable than UPG shared on Tumblr yesterday.

Ignore anyone telling you they know the One Right Way to do spirit work, or have the ONLY correct method. There's no method that works for everyone and there isn't a single right way to interact with spirits either. Anyone who doesn't know there's more than one right way to be a spirit worker probably doesn't know the first thing about spirit work or mysticism in general.

Never trust mortals to be your main guides in spirit work. Of course it's nice to get help from each other, but you need to have spirits be your primary guides to spirit work. Other mortals can point you in the right direction, but in the end this is a path each of us walks with our own spirits in our own way. If you're not comfortable working alone and relying on your own judgement, you need to think hard about whether advanced spirit work is the best spiritual path for you, because past a certain point you will be working completely alone and having experiences only the spirits can understand and share in.

On a related note, make sure you're clear in your own head about why you're choosing to become a spirit worker. These reasons will end up determining your best path and approach, and if you don't know what you want to get out of spirit work, you're at serious risk of making choices that either block you from reaching your goals or put you somewhere you never wanted to be. For example, when I told Azazel what my goals for spirit work were, he told me I needed to choose an initiatory path because I'd never get certain things I wanted otherwise. If I hadn't been clear about my goals, I could've ended up in a practice that never led where I wanted. On the other hand, I wouldn't want anyone to choose an intense mystical practice like mine because they think it's the only way to become a spirit worker. You don't have to be an Occultist seeking mystical initiation to work with spirits, or even demons, so it's important to be clear with yourself and also with the spirits guiding you about your ultimate goals.

Finally, it's okay to have no idea what path is right for you in the beginning, and also okay to change your mind later. I certainly didn't start out as a Dionysian Demonolator, and if you'd told me even ten years ago that I would end up here, I'd have called you crazy (because at that point I was scared of the madness aspect of Dionysus and didn't work with Abrahamic Divinities). It's okay to change your mind and let go of beliefs.

#spirit companion asks #spirit worker asks #spirit work #demon work #deity work #demonolatry #astral projection #astral travel #spirit senses #spirit channeling #daemonolatry #polytheism #spirit work asks

[staystillgregory]

(Alright, addressing Ruin here and how I’m handling it on this blog. Obviously, spoilers under the cut.

I will be largely non-Ruin compliant - my verses will continue to be treated as timelines due to Gregory’s actions (Princess Quest, Van, my main ‘golden’ route verse, etc.) and not as scenarios Gregory drew out, as suggested by the comic book pages Cassie finds. So nothing’s changing there.

Likewise, Ruin will be handled as its own verse, and will not be considered anymore canon than the rest of them. It’s likely the only verse I’ll consider the Mimic having any effect in, at least not until we learn more about it and get some actual answers to match all those questions Ruin so helpfully bombarded us with. In any verse following base-game Security Breach (pretty much any of the endings), I’ll likely only be writing with the context of what we knew at the time instead - Vanny, Burntrap, Glitchtrap. The Mimic will not come into play in those verses unless my Rp partner has an idea for it we both like. Additionally, I don’t plan on changing Gregory’s backstory, at least not for his non-Ruin verses (Jury’s still out on Ruin itself), meaning for the majority of them he was not ever under Glitchtrap’s control. He was simply a homeless kid seeking shelter/warmth/food when he snuck in the Pizzaplex.

In my Gregory’s Ruin verse for the neutral ending, he did not drop the elevator/betray Cassie. It was not him speaking, whether Cassie realizes it or not. Even if canon ends up disproving this, I’ll likely diverge, because I’m gonna be honest, my heart hurts too much thinking about it. I don’t enjoy portraying Gregory as a villain. He may be a troubled kid, but he wouldn’t do that to his friend.

I am absolutely fine with Gregory and Cassie being friends, even outside of my Ruin verse! Their backstory as to how they met can be the same, or we can change it to our own whims. c: They make me happy. Please let them be happy. They both deserve it.

I also may play around with the setting of Ruin without the Mimic (Gregory actually being trapped) - it’ll be treated as an AU of the Ruin verse with its own tag.

Of course, I’ll work with my Rp partners if they have something specific they want to do. I’ll likely pin this for a while, since it’s relevant.)

#Whoever Said This Couldn't Be Love? ~ Mun Mozaik #ruin spoilers #(can you tell I had a time seeing it? Because I did)

[ro-mantik]

(1) I was inspired to log onto Tumblr and post this picture taken on a recent Japan/Korea trip because of a confluence of factors. One, I was talking to a friend/college classmate, and she reminded me of how I, instead of listening to class lectures, used to spend that precious time reblogging photos for my *aesthetic* blog (and the vast majority of them were photos taken somewhere in Asia). Two, I was talking to another friend and was reminded that this year marks my *gulp* tenth year since graduating from college. And, three, I was reminiscing about this recent trip and it all dawned on me how ten-year-ago me would have been highly satisfied (more likely overjoyed and astonished) to know that I finally got my *aesthetic* Tumblr photo moment in Japan, beneath the remaining cherry blossom petals softly floating down into a dry river bed. 

(2) The aforementioned friend who delights in pointing out my less than diligent habits in some of my college classes conveyed to me her increasingly nihilistic view on working and adulthood. It’s also unsettling to me to think that my entire first third of life was devoted to a rat race that resulted in...a cycle of full-time work to enjoy windows of time that sometime become vacations to spend the rewards of full-time work and will eventually end in permanent vacation to spend the rewards of full-time work. I think it hits my friend particularly hard knowing that she has a creative streak and (had?) a desire to do something meaningful in this life. Now, she works at a start-up doing B2B engagement 💀

(3) Speaking of work, I applied for, and received, a promotion; somehow, I’ve convinced people I’m deserving to be a “senior” attorney. I was reluctant to apply -- mostly out of fear that my current, comfortable work-life balance would be disrupted -- but I’m glad it ended working out okay. In the end, I still do what I did before but with more money (for the aforementioned vacations). The “senior” title, though, doesn’t stop me from bouts of imposter syndrome and the tendency to think I’d be a suitable mentee whenever I see a new mentorship program being advertised.

(4) Back to the trip -- International travel remains, in my mind, one of the best ways to determine compatibility in a relationship. There’s no shortage of obstacles to encounter as a couple: logistics/planning, navigating through unknown locales, reaction to unforeseen events, handling money, deciding on where to eat, etc. 10/10 would recommend. 

As for us, we’re doing well (about to sign a second year on our current lease) and, fortunately, I believe this first, extended international trip did more to shore up my confidence in our relationship than to diminish it. I’ve never strived toward perfection in relationships, but I think I used to believe that couples could overcome/change certain of the other’s qualities with time. And, as confirmed by this trip, that belief is short-sighted at best, wrong at worst. Some things just won’t change (or won’t change unless there’s a lot of concerted, deliberate effort). And that’s okay. And we just have to figure out if we can live with that.

#snippets #does this mark a return to this blog? hm

[dgcatanisiri]

I suppose it's a chicken and the egg kind of thing...

So, I've said before that I understand pretty much all the major criticisms of a character like Xander from Buffy. Y'know, he's Joss's self-insert, the narrative doesn't call him on his shit, the guy's never presented in less than positive terms despite being an ass to the women in his life... That jazz. (And I'm stopping at three items despite knowing the laundry list beyond for the sake of time.)

But for me, there's a part that identified with Xander.

Like in particular, I remember how much his year in his parents' basement, where his friends were going to college and he was basically stuck in place really resonated for me during my immediate post-high school years. For that matter, for my teenage self, in the early/mid-2000s, the critical lens to Xander wasn't being applied and I and much of the fandom took him kinda at face value, and he was kind of a role model for that younger version of myself.

I've grown and changed. By definition, Xander, a fictional character in a show that ended close to twenty years ago now, cannot. He is not in a position to evolve from his older self or evolve beyond that, unless someone put together a scripted Buffy reunion special, which, given Joss's fall from grace and MANY of the cast opening up about the things on the set, I doubt will ever materialize - they love and respect that history and those characters, but are probably not going to ever be coaxed back into those conditions.

And in examining my thoughts on this, I think I kinda get why I evolved into this concept of trying to find things to like even in the characters I hate, to go in the direction of "I dislike the way that this character was handled, but I can see potential in the characterization they were given."

Like, to use a frequent example on my blog, Liara from Mass Effect is a character I offer PLENTY of criticism towards... But I like to think that the majority of what I complain about centers more on the way she is handled, that the writing protects her from potential backlash by not even offering the option to not be friendly towards her, that the writing does not address the sketchy things she says and does, even though I am bothered by the absence.

It becomes the why of me looking at a character the fandom hates, and think "why are you disliked?" or "well I'm gonna find the good in you and give you all the love the fandom won't."

Like I won't go all the way to "there are no bad characters, only bad writing decisions surrounding that character," because I CAN think of a few characters who I don't really see serving a point in their narrative, and that the story is better off without them, but it's often just as much a case of the wrong character with the wrong storyline or focus in the wrong story.

To give an example, I discard Oghren from my games in Dragon Age entirely - he's unpleasant for me to deal with, and comes across as a one-note joke stretched unbearably far, and it only continues in Awakening, so I tell him to leave there as well. But in this case, it's because I don't feel the game gives the thought to him he deserves - he is a drunken dwarf stereotype because he was abandoned by the woman he loved. It's just that the writing never really addresses that head on. When it tries, in Awakening, by tossing him together with a new lover and having a child with her and making him get his shit together to be a father to that child, it is so buried under the "drunken shenanigans" that the pay off isn't worth the effort it takes to expend getting him there.

Or there's Sera from Dragon Age Inquisition, a character who is full of untapped potential, because the game diminishes her to no further than "comic relief" (and the type of "comic" where the humor is subjectively hit or miss), and doesn't explore the depths of her character.

With both of those examples, I can see what COULD be done with them, and, if I wanted to, I could certainly try to build something out of them, I just lack the direct motivation that tells me that I NEED to - those are characters in a video game that, by my actions as the player, I can evict from the story that I play - Sera particularly can have the game played in such a way that you never even encounter her in the first place.

But those examples are characters in a video game. In a TV show, I don't have that luxury - sure, I can hit the fast forward button, but they're still THERE, and so I'm more focused on giving that character the attention and exploration that I need to find myself liking them. I have motivation to seek out the nuggets of enjoyable characters from the crap, because if they're there whether I like them or not, I'm probably better off trying to find ways to like them, rather than simply seethe with fury that they dare show their face on my screen.

#dg rambles #dg rants #actually no 'rambles' was the right word #so much rambling #such stream of thought

[i-did]

Do you know when the racism and ableism accusations against Nora started? Because back when I was active in 2016/2017 and don't think they were a thing, or were very low-key. Was it something she said or are people just basing it off the things she wrote in the books?

From what I remember, the first time I heard the blanket statement of “Nora is racist/fetishizes gay men” blanket statement was early fall 2019 (which is so ironic for the fandom to say on so many levels lmao). There wasn’t a catalyst or anything, just she went offline 2016 and no new content was coming out and the aftg fandom is such an echo chamber that… an accidental smear campaign happened.

 Before then, I would see occasional “Nora used ableist slur” which… is funny (not that ableism isn’t serious) to me people care more about that than Seth saying the f-slur. IMO this is because with Seth, it clearly shows the character thinking it and not the author who is writing about what will be an end game mlm relationship. 

But anyways! Long story short, it's the fact that she’s an ace/aro woman who wrote a mlm book, and based off of the events in canon. There is no “Nora called me/someone else a slur” it’s “Nora wrote a book where slur(s) are used” and “the Moriyama’s are Japanese.”

Below I put my own opinion on these claims and go into more detail:

CW for discussions of: racism, ableism, mlm fetishization

Fetishization: (and mentions of sexism at the end)

To one question in the EC about her inspo for aftg she jokingly responded how she wanted to write about gay athletes. On other parts of your blog you could see she was a hockey fan and an overall sports fan (anime or otherwise) but I've seen this statement taken out of context and framed as “she's one of those BOYXBOY” shippers. Considering how… well-developed both Andrew and Neil’s relationship is, and it takes them until like the 3rd book and there is a whole complex ass plot going on around, you can see how that's just. Not really true. And considering the fandom is like… 85% women (queer women but still women) and I've gotten into a discussion with someone who is a woman and called Nora a fetishizer and was ignoring my opinions as a mlm, and I really just wanted to say “well what does that make you?” it's a very ironic high horse. She didn’t write 3 all 3 books to put Neil in lingerie pwp or crop-top fem-fatal fashion show, fandom did. 

Also, I talked to an ace/aro friend about this, and she talked to me about how AFTG spoke to her very much so as an ace/aro story. Neil is demisexual, Nora didn’t know of the word at the time of reading it, but she did get an anon asking if Neil was demi after, and she said “had to look it up, and yep, but he doesn't really think about it” (paraphrased). Obviously it would have been cool if andreil were canonly written as wlw by Nora instead, (which would have increased the amount of wlw rep and demi rep) but tbh I don’t think tumblr would have cared about it nearly as much and everyone would just call Neil a cold bitch–like people do with Nora’s other published book with a main character who's a woman. Plus they're her OC’s, not mine. 

The fact is that 50% of all LGBT+ rep in literature is mlm, mostly white mlm, and not written by mlm. I’m not going to hold her to a higher standard than everyone else, she already broke a shit ton of barriers in topics she discusses that otherwise get ignored. I’m grateful to these books for existing even if it's a mlm story written by a woman. I still will prioritize reading mlm written by mlm–and vice versa with wlw– in the way I prioritize reading stories about POC written by POC. But credit where credit is due, this is a very good story, and a very good demi story. 

Ableism:

To me, AFTG is a story about ableism and how we perceive some trauma survivors more worthy than others. Neil and the foxes using ableist language shows how people actually talk. Neil thinks shitty things about Andrew, like the others do too, and thinks he's “psycho”. The story ultimately deconstructs this idea and these perceptions of people. Wymack, someone who says the r-slur (which is still not known by the general population as a slur even in 2021 much less the early 2000s when the book was beginning to be written and what the timeline is based off of) is a character who understands Andrew better than most of the others do, and gives him the most sympathy and understanding despite using words like the m-slur and r-slur. Using these words isn't good, but it is how people talk, and this character talks. Wymack is a playful “name caller” especially when he’s mad, the foxes think Andrew is “crazy” and incapable of humanity and love because of it. They call his meds “antipsychotics” as an assumption and insult in a derogatory way, when really antipsychotics are a very helpful drug for some people who need them. Even Neil thinks these things about Andrew until he learns to care about him. All the foxes are hypocritical to am extent, as people in real life tend to be. Nora herself doesn’t use these or tweet them or something, her characters do to show aspects of their personality and opinions and how they change over time.

Racism:

As for the racism, I've seen people talk about how racial minorities being antagonists is inherently bad, which I think lacks nuance but overall isn't a harmful statement or belief. However, Nora herself said she wrote in the yakuza instead of another gang or mob because she was inspired for AFTG by sports anime, (which often queer-bait for a variety of reasons). I haven’t seen a textual analysis acknowledging the racist undertones surrounding the Moriyama’s as the few characters of color who are also major antagonists, but instead just “Nora is racist”. Wymack having shitty flame tribal tattoo’s is just… a huge 90’s thing and a part of his character design. Her having a character with bad taste in tattoo trends doesn’t mean she's racist. There is the whole how Nicky is handled thing, but that's a whole thing on it’s own. The fandom… really will write Nicky being all “ai ai muy spicy, jaja imma hit on my white–not annoying like me–boyfriend in Spanish. With my booty hole out and open for him ofc.” and as a Mexican mlm I’m like … damn alright. 

I think there is merit to the fact that she writes white as the default* and unless otherwise stated a POC a character was written with the intent to be white is another valid criticism, as well as the fact that the cast is largely white, but everything Nora is accused of I've seen the fandom do worse. That goes to the debate of, is actively writing stereotypes for POC more harmful than no representation at all? And personally I prefer the lack of established race line that lets me ignore Nora’s canon intent of characters to be white and come up with my own HC’s over the fandoms depictions of “zen monk Renee with dark past” “black best friend Matt who got over drugs but is a puppy dog” “ex stripper black Dan who dates Matt” vague tokenism. I HC many of the upperclassmen as POC and do my best to actively give thought behind it and have their own arcs that also avoids the fandom colorism spectrum of “darkest characters we HC go to the back and fandom favorites are in the front and are the lightest.” 

*I however won't criticize her harsher or more than… everyone else who still largely does this in fanfiction regarding AFTG as well as literature in general. This isn't a Nora thing, it's a societal thing, and considering the books came out in like 2014 I'm not gonna hold her to a higher standard than the rest of the world. She's just someone who wrote her personal OC’s and self-published expecting no following. I don’t know her race and I’m not gonna hold her to a higher standard than everyone else just because. 

The criticisms I've seen have always been… ironic IMO, and clearly I have a lot of thoughts on it. I think most people say those things about Nora because they heard them, and it's the woke thing to say and do and don’t critically analyze their actions or anything, but just accept them. 

#ask #aftg discorse #fandom culture #fandom politics #fandom psychology #mailob #damn cant wait for my words to be twisted lmao #sorry the ableism one is the shortest I wrote that one first actually

[thevirgodoll]

Hey. I love ur blog and the advices you give to ppl. I wanted to ask u about how to be more confident? I have scoliosis and my body is slightly bent. Ppl say they don’t notice it but I do. I’ve been getting better at not caring about it because at the end of the day I really cannot change it. And tbh i can’t really see it when i keep a straight posture but still, in the future if I was to have a mental breakdown about it how do u think i should handle it? Should I simply cover up or still wear the itty bitty girly clothes i love so much??? What i’m asking is what do you think would be more appropriate, kisses 😘

We are so much more critical of ourselves than anyone else will be. That's something that is very hard to learn in our confidence journey. This reminds me, I will make a master post soon for confidence gems on my website.

It's definitely normal to have your bad days, and hypercritical moments where every single component of your disorder is controlling your thoughts. These bad days that include breakdowns are necessary to create perspective. By that, I mean asking questions, such as,

-"When I feel my emotions piling up, what are the thoughts that are making me the most anxious and why? What is the root of this for me?"

-"Are these thoughts true, or a result of a bad day? What part of my thought process makes sense? How can I slow down, and rationalize?"

-"Who makes the rules about body image for my life, and why? How can I change internalized standards to fit my needs and self acceptance?"

Disorders that we cannot change are things that we have to try to work with, instead of work against. I know you work hard to probably make your back stronger, whether that's through workouts/PT or stretches.

I know that you probably work hard to push yourself day to day to stand up straighter or present yourself a certain way, when that's not necessary. I know you feel pressured to be perfect regarding posture, but most people have poor posture and they will never change out of habit.

The majority of people do not sit up straight all of the time, unless they had some prior training that required them to do such, like me playing an instrument.

You don't have to get surgeries to be valid or be whole. You don't have to fit any mold but what you come up with.

As far as the clothing, covering up and avoiding expressing yourself will rob you of your sense of self. Preventing yourself from wearing whatever you want will reinforce the idea that your differences are the problem, when you just need to work on your self esteem and discover who you are, beyond things that will always be a part of you.

The hinderance is not your medical condition, but the way you are hard on yourself. As someone with other types of chronic illnesses, it's easy to be hard on yourself when things are overwhelming. Compassion and kindness is key to avoiding internalized ableism and self hatred.

Develop accommodations to your life. Treat yourself the way you would treat a friend dealing with this same issue. Advocate for yourself in your own life.

These affirmations I came up with to hopefully help your situation:

-"Even though I am noticing my insecurities about my body, my outfit is so cute that it doesn't matter."

-"My medical condition is out of my control, but what is in my control, such as my style, makes me feel so beautiful. I love that I can put looks together to express myself."

-"I am going to challenge myself to stop bringing clothing to cover myself up with. Little by little, I can challenge myself to dress however I want."

-"I am capable, lovable, and a deserving human being."

-"Things that make me feel beautiful are now my highest priority."

Take this slowly. Start very small and then challenge yourself to do more as you become more comfortable with your new habits. This all takes time. I hope this helps you in some way, doll!

#advice

[justasparkwritings]

Troll In Love: Part 1

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Exes to Lovers, Non-Idol AU

Rating: PG-17

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: What happens when your work nemesis and your ultimate troll team up to flip your world upside down? 

Note: This piece is for the #thebtswritersclub fic exchange! Look out for Part 2 later this week. 

This fic is dedicated to, written for the incomparable @xjoonchildx​, who I have been lucky enough to be paired with. A major fan, this was an intimidating endeavor, and I’m kind of in love with what I’ve created for her. And if she hates it .... it’s trash okay? jk... kind of. 

Banner by me. 

Monday: Pitch Meeting

           “Everyone has an inherent archnemesis,” Claire began her presentation, eyes peering across the conference room, attempting to make thoughtful eye contact with her peers.

          Finally, a staff writer, this pitch marked her first foray into feature writing. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried, in her three years at the company as a freelance writer, it wasn’t that she didn’t draft proposals, complete preliminary research, no, she absolutely did. But there was always someone in front of her, someone who always came around the corner, nicking first place with seconds to spare. Claire hated you from the moment you arrived, bright eyed and excited, a recent college graduate gunning for a position at the magazine. While it took her years to pitch a cover story feature, years to move from an assistant to full-time staff writer, you had done so in a handful of years.

          Today, Claire decided, that would change.  She had prepped and planned for weeks, laid in wait for Marissa to give her the go ahead to pitch her idea to the team. Adjusting her Dior, she shifted from heel to heel before speaking again.

          “We all have that one person who no matter what we post, they find a way to demean it, turn it negative, make it about something completely unrelated. Whether that’s politics, or religion, or sex, there is that one troll we can’t help but root against. My proposal is to use a few members of staff to find their internet trolls, to engage with them over a period of time, and if they’re willing, interview them, both separately and together. I want to discover what it is that makes them keep commenting, why they always seem to gravitate towards certain posts, who their audience is and how it relates to our greater understandings of our enemies.” Claire sighed, the heavy lifting of her presentation just beginning.

           “I like it, who do you want to use?” Marissa asked.

           “Someone from each of our most high-profile teams, or the people in our office that have the largest social media followings. For a few that overlaps,”

           “Who are those people?”

           “Y/N, Jaxson, Hoseok, Emma and Bridgette,” Claire explained. “They have an average Instagram following of ten thousand, and on Twitter it’s twelve thousand.”

           “What do you post that gets you so many followers?” Gillian questioned.

           “My ass,” Jaxson laughed. “But really, it’s Drag Race content,”

           “Good, you have a list. I need written permission from each of you to interview you and your top internet harassers.”

           “I’d like to request that my name be off the list,” You asked, hand still raised.

           Hoseok asked, knowing the answer deep in his bones. “Why?”

           “I just, I don’t think it’d be a –

           “Nonsense, you have a large following, I’m sure there’s someone who pisses you off regularly,” Marissa interrupted.

           “Yes, there is! What’s his name? Jimin?” Claire pretended to scan her page, her cursory glance perfunctory instead of practical.

           You heard the gasp leave Hoseok’s mouth before you registered what was happening.

“Fuck you!” You snapped. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate, but the sentiment remains.”

           “It was, but it also sealed your fate.” Marissa stood. “Start assembling your team and listen to Claire, I’m sure she has a list of things she needs from you.”

           “I do!” Claire chimed.

           “Great, get me the contracts from legal and get it to each of the people you’ve listed before 5PM today, I want signed consent before you leave this building.”

           “What if I don’t want to?” You asked, your final plea.

           “You owe her for the debacle with your last interview,” Marissa reminded you.

           “It’s not my fault they were drunk both times! I got the article done and out. It was one of our biggest issues in the last year and was followed up by two other feature pieces by me that beat that record,” You countered, your success an unnecessary brag in a room full of people who feared and admired your work.

           “I don’t care, Y/N, handle it,” Marissa sauntered out, her assistants following close behind.

           Slouching in your chair, your eyes landed on Claire, glaring daggers into her perfectly straight midnight bob. She was everything you hated, a brown noser, a narcissist, a career driven monster who had been biting at your heels since you arrived. She was jealous, blinded by some lofty goal that she’d be an editor or editor in chief before 28, a feat rare in fashion, unless you were Elaine Welterwroth or Margaret Zhang, of course. They had become editors and editors in chief by ages 29 and 27 respectively. Though Zhang had begun her career blogging at 16, a fact that only infuriated Claire who was too busy popping pimples and trying to lose her virginity to her junior varsity boyfriend.

          Claire could spend days listing everything she hated about you. She hated your easy interactions with coworkers, the ability to have the entire room stop and listen when you spoke, the craft of your written work and relationships maintained with subjects years after interviewing them. She hated how you left work with Hoseok on your arm or went to drinks with the assistants and interns. How you achieved so many bylines, becoming an editor in your own right without so much as breaking a sweat, while she was scraping the barrel to be noticed. You seemingly had everything Claire wanted, and Claire was sick of it.

Monday: Your Office

           “Thank you, for your participation,” Claire said, sitting across from you in your office.

           “You aren’t welcome, I’m actually rather unimpressed with your ability to ambush not only me but the other people you’ve trapped into doing your article,” You crossed your legs, adjusting the waist band of your trousers and continued to scowl at her. Claire had only heard of your less than cheerful personality, though it remained largely rumored, she had never had it confirmed or dared to see it in person.

           “How, charming,” She rolled her eyes.

           “Look, you don’t want to be talking to me, I don’t want to be talking to you. Just tell me what you want so I can send you on your way.”

           Claire watched as you reached across your desk to grab your black and white planner, flipping open to the weeks page and holding your pen at the ready. The inside, covered in stickers and hand lettered phrases, fit the persona Claire so desperately wanted to mimic.

           “I need you to read and sign this,” Claire slid the agreement across your glass desk. “Then, I need you to identify the username of your troll, and I need to borrow an intern from your team.”  

           “You can’t have one,”

           “Marissa said I could have whatever I needed, and I need an intern to comb through your tweets.”

           “I can save you the trouble, I rarely tweet, when I do, it’s addressing the same ass hat,” You explained.

           “Well, I need their handle,”

           “Fine,”

           “And the intern,” Claire was firm.

           You rolled your eyes, before pressing the intercom. “Hey Alexis, can you send Erin to me?”

           “Sure thing,” Alexis replied.

           “Thank you,”

           Claire rolled her eyes.

           “Jealous?” You questioned.

           “Read the contract, sign it and send it back to me along with answering the Form that’s in your inbox,” Claire directed.

           “Great,”

           “I’ll be back on Friday to go over your tweets and exchanges before we decide on a tactic to reach out to them and ask them to come in for an interview,” Claire explained. It didn’t annoy you that she was prepared, but it did piss you off a little to know how much she had thought this through. Maybe you should give her a chance, professionally, not socially, Claire would remain a bottom feeder.

           “Who says they’re in the city?” You questioned.

           “If not, we’ll Zoom with them, okay?”

           “Excuse me, you wanted to see me?” Erin peered through the door; wavy bangs parted slightly to expose her forehead and freckled cheeks.

           “Yes, your projects are on hold. Claire here needs your help with her feature article, and as my intern, you are to report to her for the remainder of the project,” You explained.

           Erin’s eyes widened, never had she been reassigned to a special project, let alone with Claire who was notorious for running interns and assistants into the ground. “Who will take over my work?”

           “Can you make a list of where you’re at and send it to me? I will meet with the team tomorrow to talk about where we need to fill in the gaps,”

           “Okay,”

           “Claire, this is Erin, if you are a bitch to her, I will ensure you don’t ever write a feature piece or move past copy editor here or anywhere,”

           “I don’t know where you get off thinking you can speak to me like –

           “I am your superior, and you will respect my intern or face the consequences,”

           “Fine,” Claire turned and left, leaving Erin wondering what on earth she had been roped into.

Tuesday: Happy Hour

           “You gave the real handle?” Hoseok asked over drinks after work, a little happy hour to celebrate leaving the office before 7PM.

           “What was I going to do? She could easily look at my Twitter and Instagram and find out, why lie?”

           “What happened to preservation?” Hoseok mocked.

           “Either I give in and get Claire off my back, or I get called to Marissa’s and have consequences, like I’m a fucking child.”

           Hoseok eyed you suspiciously. “Did you give her his name?”

           “You saw in that meeting, she already knows. I blame you,”

           “Me?”

           “Yes you, always talking about dance classes with Jimin, the good old days of photographing him and styling him in college. He abandoned me to go to school with you, and you’ve taken it all in stride.” You explained. It wasn’t a new story, a new plea, a new exploration of your tempestuous non-relationship with Jimin. It was sad, really, listening to you express the hurt you’ve never let go of.

           “He didn’t abandon you to come to school with me,” Hoseok laughed.

           “Potato, Tomato,”

           “You should talk-

           “Nope, you made your once monthly ‘you should talk to Jimin’ comment a week ago over margheritas, you don’t get another for ten more days,” You scolded.

           “Fine, fine.”

           “I don’t even know where he is,” You muttered, pink liquid of your Paloma slipping down your throat.

           “That’s a lie,”

           “Can you stop calling me out and let me hate him?” You hadn’t meant to snap, but the constant chatter revolving around Jimin was too much to handle, it was too much in two days, too much in the years since you last saw him. Park Jimin was, and has remained, too much.  

           “Fine,” Hoseok resigned. “Have you looked at your tweets lately?”

           “No, I refuse to go back and read whatever horrors I wrote in 2019,”

           “You should,” He suggested.

           “I guarantee Claire will force me to read them. Probably aloud at some last-minute staff meeting she puts together on Friday to fucking fillet me,” You rolled your eyes again, the last dregs of grapefruit clumping together as they slid down the side of your glass.

           “Maybe if you weren’t so,” He starts.

           “Bitchy?”

           “Your words, then she would like you,”

           “She’s hated me since I got there, I’ve tried being nice. I’ve tried being cordial. Claire and I will never mix,” You explained.

           “He’s gone blonde you know,” Hoseok’s eyes have flittered past you, glancing down the street at the setting sun, glad he brought his latest Gucci jacket to keep him warm in the early spring evening.

           “Didn’t you hit your moratorium on how long you can talk about Jimin in a conversation?”

           “You said his name!” Hoseok argued.

           “He isn’t Trump, Hoseok. I can say his name, sometimes.”  

           Hoseok let the moment simmer, cooling gently before turning it up to a raucous boil. “I’m having a kick back next Wednesday, will you come?”

           “If he’s not there,” You answered.

           “I can’t promise that,”

           “Then I can’t promise either,” Chewing the ice from your glass, you let your mind wander to the possibilities of what might happen should you show up to Hoseok’s party and are greeted by Jimin. Blonde Jimin. Jimin with the sparkling eyes and winning smile. Jimin who harasses you on the internet weekly, Jimin who you haven’t spoken to since you were 22, Jimin whom you hated with every fiber of your being.

           Worst case scenario, you couldn’t avoid him and would be forced to speak words to him. Best case, you time it perfectly and he’s either just left or hasn’t arrived and you can doll out pleasantries before Irish-goodbying and never having to confront him.

           “Y/N, please, you haven’t seen my new place yet and it’s finally furnished,” Hoseok pleaded.

           “I’ll think about it,” You resigned.

           “Great!”

           “I fucking hate you and our friendship,” You scoffed, signaling the waiter to bring you the check. You should’ve ordered food, being buzzed and talking about Jimin was never a good idea.

           “I know you do.” Hoseok winked before picking up the tab for you both.

           “At least tell me you haven’t invited Seokjin,” You asked, slipping your coat over your shoulders.

           “Well-

           “You’re fucking with me, right?” You questioned. “You fucking invited both of my exes to a, I’m sorry, kick back? Hoseok, no.”

           “I love you, and I’m sorry, Seokjin helped me find some great pieces for the place, and you know he’s friends with Namjoon and Jungkook,” He tried to explain.

           “That doesn’t mean I want to stare at them over my tenth flute of champagne and my plate which will be piled high with cheese and crackers and pieces of salami.”

           “You and Seokjin are fine though, you ended-

           “Don’t say amicably,” You cut him off.

           “Well, close to it. Please,” He begged. Begging never looked good on Hoseok.

           Staring into his dark irises, a shade mimicking your own, you couldn’t hold the anger brewing. Being around Seokjin was always a better alternative than Jimin. Though the pity he often felt towards you, at your angered state which has never really subsided, was embarrassing. “I’ll think about it.”

           “I love you,” Hoseok pulled you into a hug.

           “Yeah, yeah, then why do you keep doing this to me?”

           “Because I love you,”

           “Tell Taehyung to call me,” You said, waving to him before stepping into the waiting Lyft you’d called at the bar.

           “I will, can’t make any promises,” Hoseok winked before turning towards the subway, where he’d pull out his head phones and scan through the photos he’d taken throughout the day, waiting to get home to Taehyung to analyze, edit and critique them.

Thursday: Claire’s Makeshift Office

           “Are you ready?” Claire asked, sifting through the papers on her desk.

           “You had me come to your office, after you scheduled a meeting to ask if I’m ready? Yes Claire, I’m fucking ready,” You snapped.

           “Erin,” Claire gestured towards your intern who tried to hold her eye roll.

           “So, I combed through your tweets, sifting through your interactions with Mochimin, which is a very creative username,” Erin began.

           “Yeah, his name and nickname combined,” You rolled your eyes.

           “And we read through them all, well mostly me… and I have to ask, are you sure these are your tweets?” Erin questioned.

           “Yes, and what should be his responses,” You answered reaching forward to grab the printed copies waiting for you. You scanned over the interactions, the subtweets, the blatant tags, the retweets and comments not just by Jimin, but a few of your friends too.

           “Why have you been telling us he’s the troll?” Erin asked.

           Her question caught you off guard, eyes wide, shock echoing in your bones.

           “What the fuck? What do you mean? Look at how he fucking responded!”

           “Y/N, you’re the troll!” Erin laughed. “It’s you, not him,”

           “I am not! This is a fucking joke! It’s not April Fools yet, way to put the cart before the horse!” Your voice radiated throughout the small conference room.

          Claire, not having an office of her own, had requested it to conduct most of her teams work. It was your least favorite of the conference rooms, colder both in décor and temperature than the others, it was situated on the corner leading to the kitchen. Glass on two walls, it was the definition of exposed. Everyone could see your outburst. Everyone could watch you fall to pieces. You guessed Claire had planned it this way, to demonstrate how focused her team was, how dedicated to the project they were, to show everyone her value as a staff writer instead of a freelancer. You also assumed she did this to ensure that whatever break down you were beginning to have, would have at least ten witnesses, ten people to side with her that your behavior was irresponsible and reckless.

           “Oh please, get over yourself,” Claire chuckled. The light in her eyes proved your assumptions, she was enjoying this. “Do you see how you interact with him?”

          “What do you mean how I interact with him? He started this!” You lowered your volume, side glances from colleagues passing by alerting you to the unprofessional decibels you’d began reaching.

          “In almost every interaction, you bait him, hook line and sinker. It’s you, Y/N,” Erin explained.

           “No!”

           “Yes, this poor man, just living his life while you’re purposefully harassing him!” Claire feigned shock, eyes widening, mouth slightly open. It was taking everything in you not to resort to physical violence.  

           “I would never,” You glowered.

           “You have! For years, it’s always you,” Erin said again.

          “I, no, that’s impossible. He started it!”

          “Admitting is the first step,” Claire’s placid smile was demanding to be smacked off.

          “Fuck you! This is ridiculous!”

          “July 10, 2020: Thinking of one man in particular, hoping the bleach in his locks burns in the summer heat.Followed by his comment: thinking of one woman in particular, hoping she knows I wear a hat and use purple shampoo.” Erin read.

          “I, I, no!”

          “October 13: Nothing makes me happier than not being invited to a birthday bash with all my friends. He responded: All you have to do is ask. On your birthday, he tweeted: Happy B-Day to the girl who … oh never mind she hates me. You responded: nobody asked for your half-hearted bullshit, next time I hope you choke on it.”

          “He started it!”

          “Why are you so awful to him?” Erin wanted to know.

          “I am not, he began harassing me first,” You tried to argue.

          “Does Hoseok know?” Claire chided.

          “Know what?”

          “About your vendetta,”

          “It’s not a vendetta!”

          “Then explain why you tweet or subtweet him at least twice a week, and then when he responds, tweet him again! You don’t even tag him, just vaguely mention discernable parts of his personality or appearance,” Erin explained.

          “I do not! How do you know what he looks like?” You tried to counter.

          “His profile picture, and a certain friend of yours doesn’t mind sharing-

          “You asked Jungkook? Or was it Taehyung? Or I’m sorry, both?” Your eyes were wide, breathing labored, anger boiling to inhumane levels.

          “Well, if we asked Hoseok you would’ve kno-

          “You called or texted or DM’ed Jungkook and Taehyung, and asked about Jimin?”

          “Yes,” Erin bowed her head, guilt written into the freckles her blush tried so desperately to hide.

          “I cannot believe you, Erin,” You spat.

          “I’m sorry Claire wanted me to,”

          You turned your gaze to Claire, who had begun to cower in her seat.

          “You did the one thing, the absolute one thing that you knew, you fucking knew, would set me off. You did this on purpose, you fucking bottom feeder, you fucking dillweed you crossed the fucking line, Claire,” You spat. Your volume had lowered into a low growl, far more deadly and intimidating than any yelling you had done.

          “We have the proof, Y/N, you can’t deny it, you attack Jimin regularly,” Claire unskillfully attempted to move the conversation away from Jungkook and Taehyung. Like you would balk at her intrusion.

          “You don’t get to violate my personal life, to violate the lives of the people I care deeply about, to expose sources and put them in danger should this article go south, poking and prodding into the lives of people who are dealing with their own bullshit to push your own fucking agenda, Claire,” You were seething, Te Fiti in Moana, Mrs. Weasley against Bellatrix, Kim Kardashian against the ocean searching for her diamond. Your wrath knows no bounds, and Claire had finally crossed the line into territory she could never come back from.

          “It’s for the job, nothing personal.” Claire shrugged. You could see it in her eyes, she wanted blood and was elated to be getting it.

          “This is entirely personal.”

          “Well, you can ask Jimin about it when we interview him,” She smiled, lips upturning revealing her veneers, red lipstick perfectly matte and shaped against her thin flesh.

          “No, absolutely not,” You shook your head.  

          “Yes, that’s part of the deal you agreed to,”

          “I take it back. I revoke my consent!”

          “It’s non-negotiable,” Marissa said. She had sauntered in during your berating, watching as you tried and failed to continue believing that you weren’t the troll. “You have agreed to this, and you will sit through the interview and cordially answer Claire’s questions.”

          “Marissa, this is crossing a line,” You stated.

          “You have to be held accountable,” Claire said.

          “Fuck you, Claire. Believe it or not, there are somethings that are beyond your understanding and a few that are not appropriate for work,” You continued to scold her.

          “Y/N, why are you being so hostile?” Claire was mocking you, with Marissa by her side, she was invincible.

          “You picked me on purpose. What have you been working with Hoseok? Is this some larger plan to get me to talk to Jimin? I don’t want to talk with Jimin or talk to Jimin, isn’t it bad enough he’s being brought into my work? Oh and let’s not forget you using Erin and Hoseok to gain access to Jungkook and Taehyung, who are beyond off limits.” You listed each of her offenses, careful to leave out indiscretions that occurred before this project of hers began.  

          “You agreed to-

          “No, I was forced to do this by you, Marissa,” You began.

          It wasn’t hard to glower at Marissa, one of the most decorated editors in chief, beloved by Condé Nast, best friend of Anna Wintour… Everyone aspired to be her, but in the last year, through your promotion and growing turbulence within the magazine, her leadership had begun to falter. Her steady hand, guiding each staff writer and editor towards success and elevating everyone’s work, was crumbling at an alarming pace. Yet, no one knew why or if anything was being done to rectify the damage her wake was leaving.

          “I was coerced into this under some pretense that I owe Claire something for a so called fuck up that resulted in the biggest boon in our magazines readership in the last year, which was followed up by not one but two feature bylines and my promotion. I have done more than enough at this company, in this industry, to sit here and be forced to engage with a man who destroyed my world. I will not speak with him, or to him or listen to him. I will not, and if you force me, I will get legal involved. Should this bullshit continue, you can expect my letter of resignation next week.”

          Standing and shoving your chair in, you turned on the heels of your Oxfords and marched straight to your office. Closing your laptop and shoving your planner into your tote, you grabbed your phone.

          “Where are you going?” Hoseok asked. He moved in time with you, following down the many corridors of your office and towards the elevators.

          As you stepped in, you pressed lobby and waited for the doors to be closed before turning to him.

          “Did you tell Erin she could contact Jungkook and Taehyung?” You asked.

          “She did what?” Hoseok yelled, soundwaves bounding off the metal and plastic of the elevator, reverberating in your ears.

          “Did you?”

          “No, I can’t believe she, are you serious?” Hoseok couldn’t lie, a fundamental flaw in his design made it impossible for him to tell the smallest fib.

          “Did you work with Erin and Claire to get me involved in this feature? To get me to talk to Jimin?” You didn’t mince your words or pad your language to make him feel less attacked. You needed the answer, and you needed it now.

          “No, I didn’t know Claire was doing this until she pitched it. You think I would-

          “Hoseok, they called Jungkook and Taehyung. They want Jimin to come in to be interviewed, they won’t stop until I-

          “Until you what?”

          “Marissa has always supported me, championed me. But Claire has her number, she has her locked and loaded, aiming for me and I don’t know why,” You confided.

          “She has been slipping lately,” He agreed. “There’s only one way to stop this,”

          Together you stepped out of the elevator, moving past the turnstiles to the revolving door.

          “Am I crazy?” You asked, the insecurity beginning to overtake your bravery.

          “No, something weird is going on,”

          You clarified, “No, I mean, am I crazy for… for doing this to Jimin?”

          “I don’t know if you’re crazy, but you’ve definitely not been your best self,” Hoseok answered.

          “He makes me so-

“You still love him,” Hoseok interrupted.

          “I-

          “Go talk to him,” Hoseok encouraged. “Call me after, we can get drinks and wallow or pick out an outfit for your hot date.”

          “What if he-

          “Just, talk to him, okay?” Hoseok requested.

          “Okay,”

          “I’ll check in with Jungkookie and Taehyungie,” He assured.

          “Thank you,”

          “I’ll also scope out open positions, we can’t stay here,”

          “I love you, Hobi,” You confided, a statement that flowed so easily past your lips, you didn’t have to think or parse through the emotions that went along with it. You’ve always loved him, always will.

          “I love you too, Y/N,” Hoseok draped his arm around your shoulders before placing a kiss to your forehead, a gentle embrace, a squeeze of confidence, a gesture of love. He moved swiftly from you back into the building, and as you watched him walk away, you took a deep breath.

          Taking your phone out of your pocket, you dialed a number you had tried to forget.

          “To what do I owe this unexpected delight of a call?” He asked. His voice was the same, chipper and cunning in the same breath.

          “I need to speak with you, ASAP,” You told him.

          “Okay, I’m working from home today, come over whenever,” He invited you without hesitation.

          “You still live at the same place?”

          “No, moved up. I’ll send you the address,”

          “You know who this is?” You asked, uncertainty back in your bones.

          “What, Y/N, you thought I deleted your number?” Jimin laughed, one of only a few sounds that shot right to your knees, making any posture unstable in the docile sounds of his joy.

          “I, I don’t know, I guess. Look I’m going to hail a cab, I’ll be there in 20,”

          “I look forward to it, just tell the doorman you’re here for me and he’ll let you up,” Jimin said.

          “Okay, see you soon, I guess,”

          “I can’t wait,” Jimin was smiling, you couldn’t see it, but the lilt in his voice was all the assurance you needed. Bracing yourself for the impact of him, of his voice, of his laugh, of the way he looked at you, you hailed one of the last remaining cabs in the city and prayed for courage.  

Next: Troll in Luv Pt. 2

#thebtswritersclub #bangtanuniversity #bangtanhq #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #park jimin #park jimin angst #park jimin fluff #exes to lovers #enemies to lovers #non idol au #BTS fic #BTS fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin / you #jimin / reader #jimin x you #jimin x reader #park jimin / you #park jimin / reader #park jimin x you #park jimin x reader #club Jimin #jung hoseok / j hope #jung hoseok #jimin exes to lovers #jimin fluff #jimin angst #bangtanarmynet

[djxrxn]

the mediator

part one

reader x din djarin, paz vizsla, boba fett

part one, part two, part three, epilogue

warnings: cursing, mentions of violence, mentions of criminal activity, maybe a crude reference or two

wordcount: 4.4k

summary: A friend on Nevarro offers you a well-paying job, but you realize you might have bitten off more than you can chew when a Mandalorian you wronged is on planet - and in between you and your next paycheck.

a/n: okay Uh hi so welcome to the mediator lol. i’ve started school for the fall semester, everything for me is online, and i’m an art major, so Everything Is On Fire. in terms of the blog, i’m working on quite a few things so if there’s something you were looking forwards to seeing, or like a request you submitted, i have seen it don’t worry, it will be written i promise!! i can’t prioritize it all rn because classes are pretty demanding, but in the spare time i have, a Lot is in the works so !! exciting!! this fic has three parts and an epilogue, which i’m working on now!! also i absolutely have to thank @jangofctts who has let me bother her about this fic for a Hot minute she’s pretty much the reason it’s written she was very extremely helpful and was the best set of second eyes i could ask for thank u so much i love you!!!! okay enjoy!!

Maker, you hated Nevarro.

The terrain was rocky and… empty. There were no settlements or major cities - you were so used to the bustle of planets in the Inner Rim. Wealthy elites with deep pockets, neon and electricity carving a place into the long nights - it was more home than anything else had ever been. But here? It was a volcanic wasteland, the hot and sticky air wavering around you as you trudged through the gravel, making your way slowly to the only inhabited area on this shithole of a backwater planet. This was not home, it wasn’t even familiar territory.

Arrey was lucky you were friends with her.

You weren’t even sure what Ives had wanted - all you had received was a vague transmission about a job that was sure to pay well, as long as you stayed calm, conducted yourself in a civil and calm manner, that sort of thing.

“But,” the transmission had crackled, the soft baritone of Ives’ voice echoing around your cockpit, “You are the best with this sort of thing, Coins. I have no doubts.”

You scoffed when you heard the nickname. You thought you had finally left it behind, but here was Ives, bringing up that stupid nickname she gave you. She only used it when she had a job for you that would require some... finessing. It was concerning, but the last good job you had was a few bond skippers. You were low on fuel, and you were starting to dip into emergency resources. Ives’ high risk jobs usually set you up for a few months at a time, as opposed to the normal pocket change you got on a bounty.

Whatever she had in store, you could handle for a few credits.

The sun was setting behind you as you laid eyes on the poor excuse for civilization ahead of you, the vibrant oranges and pinks you were used to being represented by a growing dark haze. The small settlement - a town, a territory, a place to rest your feet for a bit - was just as dry as the rest of the planet. There were no buildings that were taller than three stories, and only a handful of ships were docked in the outskirts of town.

It would be easier to enter through a small side entrance. The front of the town would be crowded, even so late in the evening, and if you were on Mandalorian business, it was best to be subtle. You were annoyed at how familiar you were with the layout of the small town, annoyed that you knew the best way to approach the job already - even an Inner City scam job would have to be more interesting than whatever shit Ives was about to have you up to.

You slipped between the space between the two buildings, worming your way through the alley. Not much activity on the streets - you were sure that this whole planet closed up shop at soon as the sun threatened to set.

A noise of disgust left your throat as you laid eyes on the small market ahead of you. It was so… quaint. Only a few jawas and merchants were loitering around still. Even if you wanted a quick coin, you were sure that they would be much smarter than to fall for any of your schemes. However many credits it would take to get back to the Inner Rim would all have to come from Ives.

The fob gave a soft pip as you passed a stand selling spare droid bits. Metal screws and circuit boards all strewn about, a tan R2 unit beeping and chirping behind the table - the Chagrian repairing the droid gave you a glare when you passed him, but you hadn’t even noticed.

You were staring down at your wrist - a small bounty fob had been stitched to an old bracer. Wires poked out of the side, and you hadn’t been sure that it still worked. But it gave another small pip, and you couldn’t help but smile.

How many years ago had Ives Arrey given you that bracer, telling you to stick close to her on your first job together? She was much more prepared for a dangerous situation - she was quick on her trigger, ready to start firing at the drop of a pin. You’re sure that the only reason you made it out alive on that heist was how fast she was able to dispose of the other members of your team.

The fob’s beeps grew quicker and quicker as you walked through the settlement. Its little shrieks bounced off the walls and buildings. You turned a corner, following the beeps, and two gloved hands stopped you from crashing into the person in front of you. A gasp tore its way out from your throat - your hand flew to your blaster on your thigh, ripping it out of the holster and -

“Hey,” a soft baritone echoed through a voice vocoder. It was smooth and calming, and it carried a heaviness to it, like an old dark lullaby. “Relax, relax, it’s just me.”

You blinked. It was your friend but this… this was not the Ives you remembered. Her armor was dark, and had color to it - it was hard to see it in the night, but it looked like a bright green accent around the pitch black of her owl-like visor. The longer you looked at her, the more you saw the deep green that covered all of her beskar.

“You look… different,” you smiled.

“So do you,” she responded with a chuckle. “You changed your hair.”

After a shrug, you respond, “I was getting bored, but you look incredible - what, did they let you finally paint your armor?”

“Yeah, actually. I earned my signet,” she said. Ives gestured to her pauldron where a serpent was coiled up, baring its fangs.

“Wicked cool worm,” you teased, clicking off the fob around your wrist.

She punched your shoulder lightly. “Vexis,” Ives corrected. “It’s a Vexis, from Pasaana. Remember the job I took on Pasaana?”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember.” You rolled your eyes, but Ives huffed. Her visor tipped down in a Mandalorian glare.

“Hey,” she warned. Ives let out a little huff as you flashed a cheesy grin at her. “Maker help me, Coins ”

“Okay, okay.” You held your hands in surrender. “It’s a Vexus.”

“Remember that,” she said, turning on her heels and walking down the alleyway. It didn’t take much for you to keep up with her, her legs making smaller strides than yours did. Her cape fluttered around her ankles as she walked, and you couldn’t help but notice how Mandalorian she looked. She was…

She was intimidating.

“It’s a lot to take in, right?”

You nodded. She sighed and tugged on the edge of her glove. “Yeah, it’s still a lot for me too.”

“When did you get the upgrade?” The sun was completely gone, nothing but a small moon to show you how intricate the patterns on her armor was. Small leaves and vines had been engraved on her chest plate, a streak of yellow ran amongst every piece of beskar, and a small smear of red had been painted on under her signet.

“Actually, very recently,” she said. “A few days before, well, before you were needed.”

“Right, ” you hummed, “And that is...?”

Ives glanced over her shoulder “A very sensitive matter,” she whispered.

You huffed. Before you could even get out a comment, she continued, “That I will get to. I want to get a little bit closer.”

“Closer to?”

You were almost positive you could see her roll her eyes in the way her helmet tilted back and forth. “I’m going to need you to be a little more patient, please.”

“Ives, come on.” Your brow furrowed. You knew Ives to be careful, but this was being conservative with the details of your next paycheck. “And you’re being vague on purpose - just tell me-”

“I don’t want the wrong person overhearing,” she hissed.“ That’s all-”

“Well, well, well-” A Middle Rim accent sounded behind you, gentle and smooth. A long, armored arm crashed down onto your shoulders, and you were jerked back. “I thought I heard my favorite little criminal. I wasn’t aware that Coins stepped foot on planets that, what did you say again, ‘smelled like on fire ass’?”

You let out a small sigh of relief - you wrapped an arm around the willow torso you had been smushed up against. “Aw, Aeris, you know I couldn’t stay away from you for long.”

“Wow, I’m so honored you came all the way to see me.” You could hear the wicked smile coming through his vocal modulator. “But I know you don’t come to the Outer Rim unless you leave with heavier pockets.”

“You’re right.” It’s your turn to give a wicked smile. “I don’t.”

“So, who are you scamming this time?” He pinched your cheeks with his spare hand. “Stealing from children or widows?”

“Technically, Aeris she’s stealing from us,” Ives interjected. You gently punched his unarmored side, and he sagged on top of you with a dramatic groan.

“Mortally wounded,” he groaned. “And confused - how is she stealing from us?”

Ives paused, coming to a stand still - you almost tripped over Aeris’ feet as he mirrored her movements.

After a moment of silence, the only noise was the quiet night slowly coming to life around you, Aeris mumbled something in Mando’a under his breath after a moment, almost trying to fill the silence himself. When you looked up at his dark visor, he just shook his head.

You looked at Ives - her visor was pointed towards the ground, and she was picking at her glove again, tugging at the leather around her hands. You were familiar with these habits - you had seen Ives look at the ground and fidget with her hands hundreds of times before. She was carefully planning her next actions, quickly considering her options before she chose the best one.

She let out a low hum, and looked back at you.

“The leader of our Covert has given me authority to find a mediator to sort out a complication that arose on a job,” Ives said. “I’ve chosen you.”

You blinked. “Me?”

She gave a single nod.

“Sh-shouldn’t you find, I don’t know, maybe a Mandalorian mediator?”

“Our leader has explicitly forbidden any other Mandalorians interfering,” she explained calmly. “She wants unbiased and impartial help.”

“Even in negotiations?” You choked out.

“Oh, please,” Aeris chimed in, “Especially in negotiations. An outside perspective is supposed to be helpful.”

“Unbiased and extremely helpful, yes.” Ives added. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

“Okay, so I’m negotiating between a few Mando’s, what’s the catch?” You said, being tugged along by Aeris. Ives and Aeris both glanced at you for a moment before looking back to , neither bothering to voice what they were thinking until you continued.

“Why did you ask for me specifically?” You sighed. “And what’s the catch - if it were an easy negotiation, you could have contracted anybody in the Outer Rims.”

“Well, we do like a mediator with a sense of style,” Aeris said, nudging at Ives.

“Because I know you. I know what you’re capable of, and I know your specialties. You’re good with money, you’re good at finding a way to split it up-”

“Is this what this is about? You want me to split shares?” You groaned. “Maker, Ives, I could have done that anywhere, why did I have to come here-”

“It’s not as clean and simple as that,” she interjected. “There are three Mandalorians who need three even shares of a profit. The amount doesn’t split evenly, and all three are trying to argue that they deserve a larger portion of the credits that the others.”

You let out a short breath. “I still don’t see-”

“These Mandalorians are hostile, especially when there’s money involved.” She pointed at her signet, the Venus on her shoulder. “The Way mandates a base level of respect, but I’m afraid it’s not going to last for much longer - if someone doesn’t work this out, there’s a good chance it could get violent.”

“Let them fight it out, then. Whoever wins the fight, they get the credits - simple?” You suggested.

“Our leader has instructed us to further this out peacefully,” Ives shook her head, “As not to draw attention to us.”

“With those three di’kut, they’d start a whole galactic war over this shit, so it’d be best to keep things slightly subtle.”

“Don’t be an ass, Fenn,” Ives chided. She let out a sigh and didn’t speak for a moment, carefully chewing her next words slowly. “But Aeris has a point, they can be difficult-”

“See, there, I do have a point,” you didn’t have to see his face to know he had a smirk plastered across his face - you could practically see every emotion he felt through his arms, and his voice, and through the way he let little phrases of Mando’a out when he didn’t want anyone to know he was insulting them.

“Thank you, Aeris, it’s greatly appreciated.”

“These Mando’s really care this much about a job?” You mumbled. You apparently had a lot in common with them - you couldn’t say that you wouldn’t feel the same, but something wasn’t adding up.

Aeris shrugged. “Money goes a long way in the Outer Rim.”

“Maybe so, but how exactly did this job go down?” You asked. “I’m not really seeing an issue yet.

“I don’t know everything, but I know that Vizla and Djarin sort of bumped into each other on a quarry, which means they have to cute the profit in parts already,” he said, “But I have no idea where Fett came from, or how he got involved on the job-”

You let out a small choking noise, but Aeris continued on. “-So Djarin is pissed, naturally, because he’s out on cash, but if he thinks he can get away will all of the credits, he hasn’t met Vizsla.”

“Or Fett,” Ives added. “Which... Fett isn’t exactly known for letting money walk away.”

Aeris snorted. “Maker, Coins, you’re in for it.”

You felt like you’d been punched - the air in your lungs was stolen from you so quickly that it took you a moment to remember how to breathe in the first place. Your blood turned to ice. You felt fucking sick.

Fuck.

Fuck - fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I don't-”

Your mouth moved before you could fully think out the consequences of bowing out from the job. You would be out money, and time, and Maker, you were in the middle of fucking nowhere.

But if you took this job, you were pretty sure that the only thing you’d be walking away with was a hole in your chest from one of Fett’s rifles.

Or head. Or, fuck, probably both.

You cleared your throat. “I, uh, I don’t want this job.”

Ives snorted. “Alright, sure.”

You nudged Aeris off of you, and you planted your feet. You weren’t doing this, you couldn’t do this job.

“Ives, no. I- I can’t do this job- I won’t negotiate the shares, you’re on your own!”

Ives stopped. You hadn’t been aware that you were shouting, not until both Mandalorians turned to look at you. You swallowed - you could almost see the shock on their face through their helmets.

“We both know that you wasted too much money on fuel to turn around without something,” Ives said, her voice calm and steady. You wouldn’t expect Ives to actually shout back at you, but you couldn’t help the slightly guilt that tugged at you as she turned back around. “You need to work on your bluffing skills - quickly. They’re not gonna take any shit.”

“She’s right.” Aeris shook his head. “Since when are you bad at lying?”

They started walking again, boots stomping out a quick pattern, Aeris tugging you along by your arm, almost dragging you behind him, and you couldn’t fucking breath.

Boba Fett was cold and calculated. He was a fucking murderer - there was hardly job he didn’t follow through on, rarely a job he didn’t see finished. He took up a contract with the Empire, last official thing you heard, and then he disappeared for a few years.

Then, he reappeared, almost twice as ruthless.

You knew Fett - you only worked with him once, but you were close enough to hear the rumors that he had a personal vendetta against you. You knew that he was looking for blood, and you knew that if he was here on Nevarro, and if he knew you were here, you fucking knew you wouldn’t be leaving here alive.

“How often do you work with bounty hunters as notorious as our own Fett?” Aeris chimed, almost reading your mind.

“I- I think it's been a while,” you choked out. Your voice was trembling, they must have heard it. Aeris just cocked his head to the side, a sliver of moonlight catching on his black helmet. “But I guess it depends.”

“Depends?” He asked. “Oh, oh, of course. The money.”

His long arm curled around your neck, bringing your head closer to his torso. Aeris was limber and thin, but he was still capable of being dangerous. He was just as lethal as any other Mandalorian you were going to meet tonight.

“I almost forgot that you don’t do anything unless there’s a credit for you,” he said, his voice dripping with malice, the jab feeling like a threat. “Which, Arrey, why don’t you tell our friends here how much is at stake.”

Your stomach felt like it was twisting up into a knot. For the first time ever on a job, you didn’t even want to know about the credits - how much you were about to make, how much was being argued over it, none of it. You just wanted out.

Not that Ives would let you out, you supposed, but the less you knew-

“The bounty was for fifty-two million credits,” Ives answered. “Djarin said it was a high profile bond skipper - they had racked up thousands of millions of dollars-”

You didn’t hear the rest of Ive’s explanation. The only thing you could focus on was the rush of your blood. Your heartbeat was so loud in your own ears. The whole world faded away, slinking around you in a confusing sludge. The hot air was stifling you. It was too heavy, too thick. Your lungs couldn’t work with it, couldn’t filter through it - your chest felt light it might explode.

Fifty-two million credits.

You wanted to sleep. You wanted to close your eyes and let everything wash away. You could wake up on your ship, somewhere nice, somewhere you could get a nice breakfast. Maybe you could even find a good cup of caf. You could have a great day, and this whole shitty situation would be a distant nightmare.

Maker, you would kill to just wake up from all of this. If you fucked this up, forget Fett, you would have three Mandalorians on your ass. And if they were anything like Fett…

This was so far out of your realm of expertise. Even the job you worked with Fett was only for a couple of hundred-thousand credits. The most money you had ever worked for - acquired, earned, stolen, it didn’t matter. It was for one million credits. It was the job you met Ives on, the one where she saved your life, taught you how to rob a bank.

It was a pretty large heists for you - all you had known was petty theft and maybe a break-in, and even that was extremely rare. An old contact reached out to you, said he was trying to build up a team that wouldn’t mind cutting a few corners, and you certainly could look the other way for a few credits.

And so could Ives. You met her on Daxan IV - all grey beskar with chunks and bits missing. Old scraps of other armor had been fused into her chest plate, and her cuisses over her thigh was scraped and dented. The only pop of color was a dark green cowl that hung over her helmet, and even that was dark.

You remember making a snide comment about her bowcaster, and you remember her quietly throwing back something just as crude about how many layers you were wearing. At the end of the day, when the guns were pointed at you, that bowcaster had saved your life - Ives had saved you.

She was calm and collected in a firefight, but couldn’t handle the finessing and haggling that came with bounty hunting. You were a smooth talker, you were proud of that, but staying cool in a firefight…

You just had different priorities. Ives and you became a team, reaching out when the other needed a right hand woman for a job.

And you were grateful - Ives’ jobs were always well paying, but they normally came with a catch. One job she brought you along for was connected to the Rebellion, so the Imps were on your ass for months, one job was screwing up the numbers on a Hutt accountant’s book, one job was literally just fucking arson. There was always something - you didn’t think that there’d be something on this job, that maybe this would be the most straightforward job Ives gave you.

Well, here was the fucking catch - here were multiple fucking catches.

“Any other way you can raise the stakes, Arrey?” You snarked. Your voice sounded strained and high pitched. Maker, you wanted to at least appear like you knew what you were doing.

Ives cocked her head to the side. “Not that I can think of… Unless you have something to add, Aeris?”

You felt as he shrugged. “That’s more than I even knew.” He laughed - something short and dry, more out of cruelty than of pure humor. “Can’t wait to hear the deats when I get back.”

“Back?” You asked a little too quickly. You hadn’t seen either of them in quite a long while, and it would make you feel a lot better if they were right behind you for this entire mediation.

You could feel the little breath he let out, the small huff that made his chest expand. “Job off planet, Coins.”

You poked his unarmored sides, and leaned your head against him. “Try not to be a dumbass and get yourself killed, Fenn.”

He poked your cheek. “Only for you, chakaar.”

Ives gave him a nod as he removed his arm from you - his hand grazed your shoulder for a moment before he gave a nod back. Aeris tugged his hood over himself, the red streaks of his helmet disappearing beneath the dark wool. He turned the corner, and-

He was gone, and it was just Ives and you.

You waited a minute. Two, three, the minutes slugged along as you just waited.

“What did you do to Fett?” Ives asked quietly.

You blinked. “I- I’m sorry?”

“Aeris was too busy looking down your shirt to notice - or, maybe he didn’t even care, but you look…”

She studied you for a second, then shrugged. “You look scared as shit.”

Boba Fett had reached out to you - he needed an expendable worm who could steal, who could handle cutting corners, yadda yadda, what else was new? It was the same job description and employer type. The only thing that was different was that your boss was covered in beskar.

Job went south almost immediately. Another one of Boba’s associates sold him out to a New Republic squadron - Boba was busy handling that, but you had found the credits stashed in the lower haul, and you dipped.

Only one escape pod on the small vessel - you did feel a little bad, but it was Fett. He would probably be fine.

It was only a few days before you heard that he was looking for you.

He apparently wasn’t that serious about finding you. If he really was serious about it, you would’ve been hunted down and killed already. You head on a stake, your body on a pyre, that sort of thing. Maybe you weren’t Fett’s top priority, but you weren’t going to give him easy access to…

Well, you.

“We, uh, met on a job - like you and me, but, um,” you paused. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to tell her that you ratted out a member of her Covert - the last thing you needed, or wanted, was to cause an issue with Ives. “It didn’t go very well…”

Ives let out a low hum. “I assume you’re the reason for that?”

“Wh- me?” You let out a dramatic gasp. “I’m hurt - for your information, I am not the reason the job didn’t go as planned.”

“Oh? So what’s the reason for you being terrified at the mention of Boba?” Ives put a hand on her hip. When all you did was shrug, she clicked her tongue.

“Well, hopefully he’s forgotten what you’ve done to him by now.”

“Does he- is Fett the forgetful type?” You asked, a glimmer of hope appearing in this ridiculously shitty situation.

She shrugged and gestured to the door to your side - it was rather simple and weathered. “For your sake, I hope so.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Ives, I don’t know-”

“Coins, listen-”

She took a step towards you and gripped your shoulder. She rested her head against yours, and as you peered into the inky visor, you almost felt calm. Like maybe, you weren’t quite alone.

“Hit the fob if there’s trouble, just like always,” she said softly. “I’ll be right outside this door if you need anything, but Djarin and Vizsla should be a buffer between Fett and, uh… you.”

You placed your hand on top of hers and gave a small smile. “Thank you, Ives.”

“You’ll be fine,” she nodded. “Now, go in there, and get your paycheck.”

You nodded and you stepped towards the door. Ives tapped in a short string of numbers on the keypad. The door slid up, the cool air from inside seeping out to meet you - it was tempting, but you couldn’t forget what else was in the room besides air conditioning.

You peered into the room - and inside were three Mandalorians, whose helmets all turned to look at you.

#keida thank you AGAIN #well gang #it was lovely having you this year #see you next year #or not #eehHehehEEHEHh #star wars #the mandalorian #star wars self insert #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #aeris fenn #ives arrey

[x-childish-x]

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🌺 Please be patient. I have a life and can't always write stories quickly in good quality. 

🌺 These rules can change at any time, if they do, I will make sure to let everyone know via reblog/separate post

🌺 Feel free to request a trope, I like the majority of them and would love to give it a shot!

🌺 I mainly write for x fem!reader but I will write x gn!reader and x male!reader*

🌺 I have two Prompt lists! One's NSFW prompts and one's a general prompt list! Feel free to use them, or not! Rules for those prompt lists are included on the prompt lists as well as my main masterlist!

* I do not have any experience with writing specific race but if requested I will do my best to improve and be inclusive. The last thing I want is to offend someone, so please (nicely) help me! I default to fem!reader and don't have much experience in gn/male!reader but I'm more than willing to try and improve!

I do my best to make my work friendly to all people (including POC) I want to be inclusive and improve my writing so that people of all ethnicities and genders can enjoy my works. I try to stray from gender specific pronouns when it's not specific but as mentioned, I default to fem!reader and always put that incase a female term slipped by. Please tell me if I'm offending or doing things that feels excluding! Help me if something triggering is not listed so my writings are safe! I want to improve and learn so everyone feels safe and represented on my blog!

Some requests may take a while! It's simply because I want every request to feel like it was worth it to you! I want to do my absolute best to put out the best possible instead of something crummy that didn't have thought put into it.

Lastly:

🌺 If you would like to request something, but still feel unsure after reading through these, please dm me or send an ask! Don't be afraid to ask if I'd be willing to write for something! I'll gladly clarify and add it to whichever list it applies to!

Ask Here!

Main Prompt list!

NSFW Prompt list!

Main Masterlist! (includes all other masterlists)

I write for a large amount of characters and I’m willing to write for more (including female characters)! If you are unsure if I will write for a character, simply ask and I will add them to my list and let you know!

🌺 I am allowed to reject any character request depending on how comfortable I feel writing for them. They are listed in no specific order, all characters on this list are ones I feel comfortable enough to write for, though others are subject to be added!

FANDOMS:

STAR WARS

Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader

Poe Dameron

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Kylo Ren

Finn

Han Solo

Luke Skywalker

MARVEL

Loki

Pietro Maximoff

Steve Rogers

Tony Stark

Thor

Clint Barton

Bucky Barnes

X-MEN

Peter Maximoff

Kurt Wagner

Warren Worthington iii

Erik Lehnsherr

Logan Howlett

Wade Wilson

Hank McCoy

Alex Summers

Scott Summers

AHS EVAN’S CHARACTER’S

Kit Walker

Kyle Spencer

Jimmy Darling

Tate Langdon

James Patrick March

SUPERNATURL

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Castiel

Jack

Crowley

[copperbadge]

Hi. I love your blog! I’m in the middle of a second major depressive episode (my first was in my teens) and like you were, I’m unemployed and living with my parents. I’m now on medication and getting help and applying for jobs, but no luck so far. How did you ‘turn your life around’ and how long did it take you – going from depressed to starting a successful career in the non-profit world? Any advice on how I could do the same?

Oh, Anon. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this but in no way did I turn my life around, and I definitely didn’t build a career intentionally. 

A lot of the below is general advice -- you are already doing great! -- but I figure some people who are where you are but not quite as far along could be helped by it. Thanks for the opportunity :)

So, here’s the thing: depression is the kind of mental illness that can just be with you for the rest of your life even when it’s not impacting your life. Some depression is situational and therefore (theoretically) escapable, but some of us are just never going to forge enough serotonin on a regular enough schedule. So it’s not a matter of beating depression or backing away from it, but of learning good coping mechanisms: how to recognize an episode is coming, how to keep functioning in a depressive episode, when to ask for help. 

And unfortunately while I can tell you what works for me, this is going to vary by person. Some people feel sad all the time; some people feel numb; some people feel okay but are overly impacted by minor setbacks or frustrations, or can do normal life stuff but any deviation from routine sends them into a spiral. These are just examples; there are more. My methods of coping are stuff like building lists, making sure that those lists have stuff like “communicate with friends” on them, being on specific platforms that make that communication easy, and inasmuch as I can, avoiding drama and volatile emotions. Doing the bare minimum of housework to keep myself from being MORE depressed. Making sure my work gets done so that I keep my job, even if I feel like other parts of my life might be out of control. 

And as I’ve recently mentioned, I write fiction as a stress response. If I’m not writing but I’m doing okay -- keeping my house clean, feeling good, having fun -- that’s fine. Not optimal, I like writing, but it’s fine. If I’m writing, I’m probably a little stressed, but I’m managing it. If I’m not writing AND I’m not functioning well, or I know I’m unhappy, then I know that the depression is probably worse than I think it is, and I need to go into survival mode. 

Some people need meds -- taken year round, even when you’re not depressed. There’s no shame in that and if you aren’t currently using medication, I would recommend at least investigating its use to see if it could help. [ETA: Sorry I 100% missed the part where you are on medication, but this is still useful for others so I’m leaving it in.]

So like...”how long did it take me” is a tough question to answer because I’m still in it. I will be, all my life, and once I came to accept that, I could figure out ways to keep it from devastating me. How long it took me to establish good coping mechanisms? Well, I was diagnosed at 17, which is a rough age to be when it starts happening, but I managed to survive college (barely) and I feel like I had a pretty good handle on managing it by the time I was, I guess about 25. The point at which I was unemployed and living with my parents was the absolute low point of my life, when I was 23-24, but that was compounded by external factors. As soon as I got out of my parents’ house, things improved; as soon as I had a job, even a truly shitty one, I felt like life was survivable. (A huge coping mechanism in those days was actually Netflix, back when it was a mail-you-a-DVD service, because I knew at least a few times a week I would get mail addressed to me with a nice surprise in it.) 

And the thing about being here now is -- my parents gave me three grand to get out of the house, find a place of my own, and survive 2-3 months until I could find a job. I couldn’t have done any of what I’ve done without three solid thousand dollars, and even then I got lucky. I quit my first, super shitty job (the only time I have EVER quit a job) and got a job with my last place of work literally two week before the 2008 financial crisis hit. That job happened to be a very visible if very ground-floor administrative position, and from there I was able to impress people who wanted to hire me up to the next administrative level, and from there I was promoted into the department because I showed an active and visible interest in the work they did. That was intentional, but literally nothing before it was anything other than “I need a job and this one offers health insurance.”  

Once you have a job in which advancement is possible, which again is a matter somewhat of luck, advancing is just a matter of maintaining a good work-life balance while doing good work and showing you’re interested in supporting the mission of the company. Documenting the work you do, asking for raises, asking or applying for advancement -- putting yourself forward. That’s not so hard. But that’s kind of like starting on third base and telling someone you just need to run 90 feet. You’ve got to get to third base first and for me that was a lot of luck. 

But here’s the kicker: you can’t win the lottery unless you buy a ticket. So for you, right now, waiting on that opportunity, your job is to keep yourself alive and reasonably looked-after, gather all the energy you have, and start figuring out a game plan. Whether that’s a shitty job that you agree with yourself you’ll only do for a year, or asking your parents for a huge financial leap of faith if they’re able -- three grand was a LOT for my parents but they knew it was probably going to save my life -- or applying to better jobs that could push you up the ladder. And of course we’re in a pandemic so like, fuck the world, all of this is just that much harder. But people are being hired, and people are moving into apartments, and going to therapy, and doing their best. So there’s hope, as long as you start homebrewing it first. 

The thing that has helped me the most in the last twenty years, and which I think may be most helpful and simultaneously most frustrating to you, is that I never just said “I don’t like where I am or what I’m feeling”. I started there, absolutely, but then I asked, “What can I change to stop feeling this way?”

You have to rule out “nothing” as an answer. You probably will have to sit with the question for a while, maybe even a few weeks. You may need to google some weird shit to figure it out. And maybe what you do is a stupid stop-gap like buying yourself a $1 blind box toy once a week so you can feel surprise at something again. Maybe you admit that right now you need to pass the baton and you unfollow or blacklist political activism and activists and just fill your social media with people making dumb dad jokes and posting cat pictures. Maybe that gives your brain breathing room to find more permanent solutions.

But once you get in the habit of “how can I change this”, solutions do start to appear. 

So, yeah. Truth is I worked super hard but I also got super lucky. But part of being lucky was being there when the luck finally hit. So I’m wishing you, wholeheartedly, the best of luck. 

(Also if your parents have money and aren’t assholes I can’t recommend “Make them give you a long-term loan to get on your feet” strongly enough.)

#depression #coping #career building #Anonymous

[jellysharkbat]

I’m going to preface this with: I’m not a fan of call-out posts. I’m going to post on one topic in this post, and another topic in a different post. I put up a read more so you don’t all get slammed by a all of text. Because I like to think I’m polite like that. ;)

Adding a second preface: I’m probably going to reblog or like stuff from people you may not personally agree with. I’m liking and reblogging because I like the work, not because I’m in love with the creator. People still like John Lennon’s music and he beat women.

Anyways, here goes for anyone who wants to read.

Okay, as much as I hate confrontation and do my best to avoid it, I can’t let this one lay. It’s just unfair all so many levels. I’m going to focus on Cullen, since he’s one of my favorites, and I don’t know the other characters mentioned (and those not mentioned) as well.

My, like many others, blog is nsfw. It’s 18+. I’m going to assume that anyone who follows me is an adult. And I’m going to pretend that anyone who isn’t, doesn’t. I am going to post things that are violent in nature and- here’s the one everyone’s super focused on- sex. Because I’m an adult. If I want to read about sex, I will. If I want to write about sex, I will. Because I’m an adult. And there is nothing wrong with sex.

There have been some names named and shamed for portraying characters as “hypersexualized”.

I have one answer to that: so what?

It’s no big deal if Cullen is portrayed as virginal or a sex god. He is not real. I’m going to repeat that: Cullen Rutherford is fake. He is fictional. He does not exist. He, like everyone else, is a character from a video game. We love him, but he is not real. He doesn’t have thoughts of his own, he doesn’t have feelings, he doesn’t have a life. He is a work of fiction created by Bioware.

I’m going to say this one more time: Characters from Dragon Age are not real. Stop acting like they are real people.

The great thing about fandoms is that we can take a character we like, and do whatever we want with them. If we want to fix inconsistencies that the creators didn’t, we can. If we want to fill in the gaps about their lives, we can do that. If we want to pluck them out of their canonical universe and put them in a new one, we can do that. If we want to rewrite stuff about them, we can do that. We own that creativity.

One of the biggest reasons for this “outcry” is that Cullen Rutherford was sexually assaulted and/or raped.

As far as I am aware, there is no canonical evidence to support this claim. Please feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.

His sexual trauma is something we assumed happened. We imagine that a character from a video game was treated horribly. Is it likely that this happened? Sure. I think we can all agree that it’s probable that the desire demon did more than mess with his mind. The implication is there. But we can’t confirm it. We can’t look at something and point to it as hard-based evidence. Because there is none.

We made it up.

Just like Scout Jim, we created that trauma. We want that trauma to exist.

We created it, and we can take it away.

I’m also going to say this: even if canon supported our theory, it wouldn’t matter. As fanfic writers and artists, we can change whatever we want. We can portray Cullen Rutherford’s personality, and other characters, however we want. Because he’s not real.

But the sexual assault! What about that? 

You mean the sexual assault that never happened in real life? Because he’s not a real person? It doesn’t matter.

Should we approach the subject of sexual assault with respect to those who survived it? Yes. Because that is a real, traumatic experience a real individual went through. And their experience in such an attack should be handled according to that person’s wishes.

Does that mean the moment a work of fiction which may or may not involve it, it needs to be treated like glass? No. Because it didn’t happen in real life. And since it’s a work of fiction, we as creators don’t always need to pay attention to it or make it true for every single universe that includes Cullen Rutherford.

Some people might want to portray it as real as possible, others might want to eliminate it completely. There’s nothing wrong with either choice.

I’m going to assume that a most people have never experience sexual assault and/or rape. Have some people been harassed? Unfortunately, yes. But it is not true of the vast majority of us, and harassment (while a violation in its own right) is not the same as someone physically putting their hands on you. Most of us have no idea what it is like to be assaulted or raped. None. Nothing we imagine will ever compare to the real thing. We don’t know what it’s like, and therefore we will never portray it accurately. And quite frankly, I can’t imagine anyone who would want to know. I’m happy to keep the bad portrayals because it means no actual crime happened.

Even if we did know, real people react differently. Rape survivors do not all behave one way. They do not act one way, all the time. How they respond to anything will depend on their situation, their experience, their current circumstance, their comfort. You can stick two people in a room, have those people be raped in the same exact manner, and put them in a new situation which may or may not force them to think about what happened to them. And they’ll respond differently. Because they are different people. Sometimes they want no sex, sometimes they want all the sex. And that changes day to day, like it does for many people.

To tell them that they can never act any other way is an insult to them and what they survived. You should be ashamed of implying or outright stating that. How dare you slap them in the face.

That, however, is a real person. As I said, Cullen is not real. He is written and portrayed again and again by many different people. He is always going to be different from one portrayal to the next compared to his canonical, in-game self. Are there extremes? Sure. But I dare you to show me a fandom where there aren’t extremes. And in the end, it doesn’t matter if those extremes exist.

No one is actually being hurt (unless you’re a sick mofo and like writing your irl crimes…). It’s fiction. Fake. Not. Real.

If I want to write something about Cullen being violently raped, I can. If I want to pretend he was never abused in any way, I can. If I want to imagine him being sexually crazed, I can. If I want to rip off an arm and make him a eunuch, I can.

 Because it’s all fake.

The beauty of fiction is that we created ways so people aren’t surprised by stuff they may not want to see. We created filters. We created blacklists. We created tags. Did we have to? No. You don’t go to a library or a bookstore and expect to see tags or filters, do you? Because those things don’t exist for books. You would just pick up a book and accept whatever is written inside. We didn’t have to do that. But we did. Because we want people to be comfortable, and have fun.

If you don’t like the way someone is portraying how you think- ah. That bit is important. I’m going to repeat myself again: If you don’t like the way someone is portraying how you think they should, that is on you. You have the expectation of something. It is no one’s responsibility but your own to cater to that expectation.

People aren’t creating works involving characters like Cullen solely for your, individual pleasure. How arrogant for you to think so.We are creating many versions of a fictional person in hopes that someone else might like that version and will share their own. We should not go around pretending that only one version is the True Correct Version.

That’s the kind of shit religions do. They love purity crusades.And that’s exactly what this seems to be to me. It’s not outrage because of how people portray a fictional character, it’s an outrage because some people don’t want to admit that they have a problem with other people freely enjoying sex.

You don’t own any of Bioware’s characters. You alone do not have the final say on what happens to a character outside of canonical information, or how that character should behave 100% of the time. And you have no right to harass people because they don’t have the same Vision you do.

If something like sexual assault was truly triggering for you, and not just something offensive to your delicate sensibilities, I’m going to say you probably wouldn’t search for it. You’d find ways to filter it out. And you would accept that if something does slip through, it’s no one’s fault. People can write or draw characters in whatever situation they want. You need to acknowledge that sometimes there will be something that you won’t like and if you still see it, because no one is obligated to do anything for you.

But we will, and we try. Because in general, the majority of us care. We want to have fun. We can adjust some things if asked. Nicely. Because a lot of us realize that not everyone is going to like the same thing. People are different and will have different tastes.

One more, final point: What someone writes or draws is not indicative of who they are as a person. I write and think about a lot of stuff. I’m a curious person. I want to be able to imagine what would happen in whatever scenario I create, good or bad. I have favorite characters. Because I like those characters, I like sticking them in the scenarios I create because I want to know how they would react. It doesn’t matter if it’s something soft and sweet or a rape roleplay. What that is has nothing to do with who I am. That goes for everyone else.

So let me tell you a little something about myself, since you have no other way of knowing if I don’t specifically tell you:

I am shy. I am quiet. I don’t like picking fights. I don’t speak eloquently. I am a pushover.

And sometimes- a lot of the time- I want my favorite fictional character Cullen Rutherford to act out a “hypersexualized” fantasy of mine.

#ngl #a little bit interested to see if I'll get a reasonable #actual adult answer to this #and not teenage hysteria #If you think differently #please tell me why #I like hearing other people's opinions #seriously #cullen rutherford #dragon age #you do realize that if you don't like something #you can ask for it to be tagged so you can blacklist it right? #this is very much a grow up and deal with it thing

[rudystree]

before i say anything i just wanna issue a little disclaimer and say that i fully respect you, your opinions and your blog. i am in no way trying to start drama or offend anyone but there’s something i have to say:

if you’re active in the obx fandom, chances are you know who elaine is and you are also probably aware of her controversial past. do i support her? honestly no. i feel like her apology should have been handled far better than it was and as someone who has experienced discrimination and oppression my whole life i cannot see myself ever liking someone like her. however, do i believe this has all gotten out of hand? absolutely. i know for a fact that a large majority of people who hate on elaine hate on her because she’s dating rudy. you guys find all this dirt on her because you want to humiliate her or back her into a corner thar she can’t get out of. and that’s fine- except for the fact that you’re doing it for the wrong fucking reasons. you don’t care about bipoc. you don’t care about the lgbtq+ community. you care about diminishing and degrading someone that you don’t like, someone who you don’t like also for the wrong reasons. you hate her because she dates rudy and/or because she is friends with the cast. and while disliking her is completely valid (again, if it’s for the right reasons), the slut shaming? the suicide jokes? you are not fighting for social justice. you are hiding behind that motive, when in reality all you care about is humiliating elaine. and that takes away from the fight that is being fought all over the world for equality and civil rights.

i’ll be the first to admit that i used to be loud about how much i disliked her, and i used to be one of those people that was overly rude about it. but now? i mind my business. i spread awareness about global issues, go to protests and donate. because that means a hell of a lot more than whatever it is you think you’re doing.

because the truth is she’s irrelevant. i mean this in the nicest way possible, i know it sounds rude and it may be a poor choice of words but please just wait for me to get my sentiment across. who is she, to you? unless she’s hurt you or someone you love by the things she’s done and said- i doubt she has a large influence on your every day life. if she is racist and homophobic, it is true that she doesn’t deserve her platform. but her past has been brought to light. you can’t force people to hate her. let it go, and focus on actually making a difference.

and the other truth is, we don’t know her. we don’t know if she’s performative or not. we don’t know if she really has changed or if it’s an act. which is why, as i said before, I DO NOT SUPPORT HER. but i do it in the right way, and for the right reasons. i respect her privacy and her relationship with rudy. i don’t come for her physical appearance, her photography or her family. and no one should. if you don’t support elaine, great. but being so vocal about your hate for someone who truly has changed is worse than silently disliking someone who hasn’t. it’s that simple.

with that being said, i do wanna say this to you and a lot of her supporters: we’re not all like that. i have interacted with some of elaine’s fans and they have been openly racist towards me. but i’m here, addressing you and all of your followers with nothing but love and respect in my heart. i don’t look at all of you as evil bigots. so please, don’t think that everyone that dislikes elaine are little jealous kids that have nothing better to do. i just want you to know that a lot of people who talk about what just happened are extremely hurt. imagine what it must feel like as a member of the lgbtq+ community to see that someone who “advocates” for their rights has previously used an incredibly offensive slur. stuff like that fucking hurts. it’s not easy to get over, and it’s not easy to ignore that the person who used those slurs still is being looked up to and still has a platform. it’s not easy to think that she may have grew as a person, and changed for the better. it’s really fucking hard. we are not all hateful, ignorant people. i’m sure you didn’t mean it like that, but your responses to those asks made it seem like you believed we are, and again, we certainly are not. some of us are the types of people who have to work twice as hard to get half as far, compared to a white woman like elaine. some of us have been struggling our whole lives to process instances of racism and homophobia and become something in a world where they are so incredibly prevalent. and elaine is not entitled to our respect if we feel as though she does not wholeheartedly respect us.

thank you for sharing ❤️ i appreciate you writing all of this and sharing your point of view

i want to, again, make it crystal clear that i do not think any less of those who don’t like or support elaine. that’s 100% fair. i’m truly sorry about your past experiences and it sucks that so many people, like elaine, grew up in a bigoted environment. i have never dismissed that what she did back then is fucked up.

however, once again, when i tell people to move on and get a life, it’s not directed to someone like you. it’s directed to exactly those people who make it their mission to ruin her life, who make hate pages and perpetually bully and harass her and her loved ones. who are so invasive and rude and disrespectful to rudy and elaine’s relationship and circulate disturbing rumors about things and bait others to believe those lies under the guise of a social justice agenda. it’s actually sickening and it needs to stop. she does, in fact, deserve to be treated with basic human decency.

#i wish everyone had your attitude anon #but we live in a fucked up world #ask #elaine chats

[famedroleplayarchive]

There won’t be an activity check today and you can count it as a free week because I have some big but hopefully not too big news. Famed is going to undergo a restructuring, and this is going to involve me asking everyone who would like to remain in the group to resubmit an application to keep their muse(s).

To be clear, this is not a complete revamp. Most of the major processes of how the roleplay work will not change and claims and development on muses will be able to be kept unless you put them in a majorly different position (in which case, claims that will no longer work can be refunded!), but the the size of the roleplay will be cut down over half from 135 spots to 65 spots. Many of the groups will be merged and all will be changed to some extent so that we have a total of thirteen groups, all with four to six members instead of the over twenty groups, many of which are rather large, we have now.

I want to disclaim that I know there will be members who connect less with the roleplay after the restructuring. I also want to apologize to anyone who is inconvenienced by the changes made, but please know I am only making these changes because I feel it is absolutely critical to the long-term life of the roleplay. A restructuring of some sort is something I’ve been thinking about for probably over a year or so now and I’ve been trying to avoid it for the sake of disrupting everyone as little as possible, but it’s become apparent to me that it’s necessary to keep the roleplay going, not because of member activity but because of my own ability to handle everything as an admin. I created Famed over four years ago when I was in a much different place in my life and had very little experience with idol roleplays and no experience at all running an idol roleplay, so I haven’t always been totally happy with how everything is set up. While I always did my best to make sure I was confident I could handle things before adding anything else onto my plate, naturally, several major life events have occurred over the past four years, especially the last one, that have altered the amount of time and energy I can commit to roleplaying, often making it draining and difficult to manage the group at its current scale.

Taking on another admin or mods would ultimately mean quite a bit more being required of me for at several months in order to evaluate any options presented to me and to help introduce a new person to all of the intricacies of the roleplay at a speed we’d both we comfortable with. It would also require me to be able to find someone I would be confident placing that responsibility on since I wouldn’t want to do it by half measures, which isn’t a guarantee. With all of that considered, I feel that this restructuring is the best course of action to keep the roleplay alive for the foreseeable future instead of risking my own discontent and stress leading to a fizzling out of the roleplay. The changes being made are all ultimately being made in hopes of making a more enjoyable and sustainable roleplaying experience in the long term for everyone involved, including me on the admin side and hopefully members as well!

Speaking of which, this will also be a chance for members to look at their own experience in the roleplay and muses and make their own changes to their muses as they find appropriate for improving their roleplay experience. I’ll be asking everyone to send in an updated application for the new changes since some details will probably have to change for every muse to some extent. Members are welcome to change what they feel necessary (or might be required by nature of the changes), from the muse’s group, to their position, faceclaim, age, background, etc. This means you’ll be able to pick new past claims made on your application too and a new past claims system is being put in place that will actually allow muses to have a more established career in their backstory! You’ll also be able to potentially refund points claims made that no longer fit changes you have to make to your muse, but that will be handled once the re-application process has been completed.

New main blogs have been created for the purpose of having a fresh start void of any old information that might still be lingering around blogs that will no longer be accurate. The new structure of the groups and companies can be found here on the new main (the URL will be changed to famedroleplay tomorrow!). On August 15 at noon EDT, exactly forty-eight hours after this post, I will be opening up for reserves to keep muses. You may only reserve spots for existing muses at this time, not for new muses, and muns will unfortunately now have to be limited to a maximum of three muses due to the decreased size of the roleplay.

Currently in-use faceclaims will be held for the muses they are used for unless the mun chooses to reserve a different faceclaim for the muse or until the period of accepting applications for keeping muses is up. Since groups, positions, and model groups have been moved around so much, I decided not to assume the assignment of positions to any muse, so it will be up to muns to reserve the spot they feel best suits their muse. Everyone will get a couple of days to look positions over before reserves are accepted to make the reserving of positions as fair as possible. I plan to do three acceptances on August 18, 22, and 25 that will be reserved solely for those applying to keep their muses, and the August 29 acceptances will be the first time we open for new muses again. Activity will start up as normal on August 22!

Members planning on keeping their muse may continue to write during this time if they’d like and work out that they’ll be keeping those plots, but points can’t be collected for anything that wasn’t already in progress since you might end up retconning it anyway.

Thank you all in advance for your understanding and I hope you’re able to find this exciting in some way! I know I’m hopeful for what I see as a fresh phase of Famed. Famed version 1.2, if you will. I’m aware this will likely be the end of the road for some who aren’t as interested in the new structure or can’t find muse within it or just don’t agree with my decisions, and to anyone who finds this to be your parting of ways with Famed, thank you for the time you did dedicate to the group! I do request to please avoid sending rude messages for the sake of being rude if the restructuring isn’t your cup of tea, but I will be sad to see anyone go who does leave. The alternative was me most likely, at best, having to put the roleplay on hiatus by the end of the year to take time to deal with real life, so this choice has been made so that I don’t have to do that and I can keep this home for so many wonderful muses running as long as possible!

A post with more information about the process of re-applying has already been posted to the new main by the time this post goes up. Check out the updated FAQ on that blog as well since it highlights a few of the more major changes already!

#fmdadmin #queued post

[hear-me-growl]

Ambrosia | Ksj | Chapter VI (final)

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ Aᴏ3 || Dɪᴏɴʏsᴜs ·ᴘᴜʙ· ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀᴘᴏsᴛ || ↻ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut, humor, fluff, angst | s2l > ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: millionaire!Seokjin x bartender!, nyotaimori model!Reader > ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: mature [+18]; strong language and explicit sex > ᴡᴏʀᴅᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.9k

sᴇʀɪᴇs ɪɴᴅᴇx ||  ⟵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴠ

💙 ᴀ/ɴ: can’t believe this beast is finally done (though I might post a bonus epilogue, we’ll see 😉). Thank you so, so much for reading and leaving likes. Not gonna lie, it’s been a hard one to write, but also extremely fun. As my first story in English (and also my first BTS fic), it holds a special place in my heart. Also I may or may not be a sucker for this Jin. Now that it’s over, don’t be shy to let me know your thoughts. It’s important for creators that you give feedback, even if just a few words or a keyboard smash. You can make someone (not only me) very happy.

Ambrosia brought a lot of people to my blog and I’m super thankful for you all and very excited to write many more stories you’ll enjoy too. Once again, thank you for all the love and support. 

Psst! Keep an eye out for the next update on the Dionysus ·pub· series. Did someone say Hobi?

“Thanks, you fuckers! We love you!”

The growl in the frontman’s voice raised screams and whistles that rumbled through Dionysus. Sweaty, ethereal and devilishly handsome, Taehyung bowed for the crowd chanting his band’s name. Everytime their signature purple bunny posters covered the beaten bricks of the pub, a mass of people flooded the establishment. V’s Moon Rabbits caused a frenzy wherever they played, waking the masses with their sound like a rockslide. The rock, jazzy melodies paired with the singer’s looks skyrocketed their popularity in underground Seoul.

However, no matter how many concerts and jam sessions were scheduled, they always came back to Dionysus —the pub that gave them a chance when nobody did.

After the performance, they usually hung out at the bar until they found a fan desperate for a chance to share the night with their idols. Doe eyes and sultry smiles in every corner, the boys never went home alone.

Tonight you didn’t work behind the bar, though. You just sat on a barstool, keeping your best friend entertained on her shift, ready to jump to her rescue if she felt overwhelmed. Not that she needed it, she handled the crowd with a big smile on her face. Beer in hand, you chatted animatedly with the blonde singer and Namjoon, the drummer, since the others had already found someone to drag to the bathrooms for an intimate rendezvous.

“You broke your drumstick. Again. You owe me 30.000.”

“I distinctly remember you mentioning both of them, so I’m not paying a single won.”

“C’mon, man. Don’t be a pussy,” Taehyung nudged his bandmate’s side as he took a sip of his beer. “Next time don’t make it so easy for her to win.”

“Yeah, pay up, Joon,” you chimed, a taunting tone lingering on your lips.

“Sorry, love. The rules were clear.” 

The tall man leaned back on the bar and gave his signature jaw-dropping smile, flanked by two cute dimples. Who would’ve thought underneath all that there was the lady-killer of the century? You bent forward towards him, sniffing before wrinkling your nose.

“Does it smell like chicken over here?”

A snort came from your other side, Taehyung trying to conceal his laughter and you snickered along. Namjoon’s tattooed hands ran over his chin as he watched the both of you in amusement too before speaking.

“Tell you what it doesn’t smell like: money in your pocket. Now, if you excuse me,” he said, eyes fixed on a juicy target. His self-satisfied smirk turned sultry as his gaze darkened, “there’s a pretty doll over there not sucking my cock and I’d like to change that.”  

In a flash, the drummer finished the rest of his drink, attention solely on the woman at the other side of the bar. Still perched on the counter, he looked at you with a raised brow. “Unless you want to join her?”

“Go get your dick wet already,” you nudged with a groan, fully aware that he wasn’t entirely joking.

Like a panther, he stalked towards his newfound prey, mixing with the crowd. Taehyung and you chatted for a little while. He differed from his charismatic persona on stage. V’s goal was to attract people with mysterious looks and alluring smiles, but Taehyung was much more reserved, rude even, except around his close ones. At some point, you noticed the cute girl behind him. You recognised her immediately and smiled warmly, inviting her to talk to the singer.

“Hi, Tae,” she greeted quietly.

Hearing his name, he turned around to face his number one fan. Her face brightened up with the attention.

“Hey, baby girl. Just arrived?”

“Err— yeah, I’m sorry I missed the show.”

“You’ve been to all of them for the past two years, I think you can skip one, ” he sneered. After that an awkward silence settled between the two. When he started to turn back to you, ending the conversation, she was quick to keep his attention.

“Do you… umm… wanna dance with me?”

“Not now, I’m talking.”

“Oh, of course! I’m sorry I interrupted,” she apologized, looking at you with doe eyes.

“No worries, sweetie,” you intervened as you shot a murderous glare to the man, the second-hand embarrassment urging you to help the poor girl out. “Stay and chat with us. What do you drink?”

Her eyes jumped from you to Taehyung nervously, a flash of pain through them when he lazily checked his phone, clearly indiferent. She swallowed a sigh, shrinking in defeat.

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m going to… my friend should be here somewhere,” she grimaced at her own excuse, but bit her lips and cocked her head before speaking again. “See you later, Tae?”

“I don’t know my plans yet, baby girl.”

“Right,” she whispered, looking at his side like he’d shot just her. After a beat, she cleared her throat, eyes on the floor. “Bye, then.”

She walked away, hand on her face to hide from the overflowing crowd and ponytail shaking. The singer took a sip from his beer, still on the phone. He didn’t even bother to look her in the eye to reject her.

“One: that was actually painful to experience, and two: you are a major asshole. That poor girl follows you like a puppy with heart eyes and you know it. Do you have to be so rude?”

“Hey, she knows what she’s getting into,” he answered with a shrug.

That naive fool. What a terrible mistake she made falling for Taehyung. To him there was no point in lying, so he proudly waved the ��I’ll never be your boyfriend ” flag before anything happened and then jumped to the next roll in the hay without sparing a glance. Never settling, never making false promises. He was upfront about his intentions, so it never bothered you before, despite how tactless he was. Tonight, however, you felt pity at the heartbroken look in her eyes. Love brought more pain than happiness, she’d learn sooner or later.

Suddenly, something bumped into the barstool and you stumbled forward. Taehyung catched you before you could hit your head on the counter. With a snarl on display, you turned and yelled at the culprit, who zigzagged towards the exit, probably to smoke or take a piss. You scoffed. He probably didn’t even hear you, given his unsteady walk. Just as the door opened, a tall, neatly dressed figure entered the bar, stepping aside just in time to dodge the tripping drunk. 

It took a second for you to register the tingle travelling across your skin like wildfire brought by the newcomer. You had felt it before, that twisted warm fuzzy feeling, a disease that spread and ruined people. All too familiar and foreign at the same time, like rewatching an old movie with new eyes. 

‘You felt something that night and you feel it still’. 

The words echoed in your memory, taking you a couple of weeks back. That night after the event was your last conversation with him and you thought you’d finally rid yourself of unnecessary trouble. Quite the opposite. You found yourself craving for something, no matter how much instant ramen you ate or how long you stayed at work to keep yourself busy. His silence was directly proportional to your uneasiness, but you refused to connect the dots.

Until tonight.

Faster than light, your head snapped back at the singer to avoid being seen. Reason overlapped panic as you assessed the damage. That mind-reading snake was right, you felt something beyond physical for him. At least now, fully aware of the issue, you could fix it. Keeping a cool head, you devised a plan of action. It was imperative to eliminate those thoughts before they infected your brain any further, to show both him and yourself that your interest was merely a passing malaise, like a cold or an indigestion. You just needed to find the right medicine for it.

“You okay there? You look like you either had an epiphany or smoked the worst weed in Seoul.”

Taehyung’s voice was low in your ear and you realised the lack of distance between the two. Feeling him chuckle, you looked up at him. You’d forgotten he was even there, hands still low on your waist. In a feeble attempt to regain some control over yourself, you grabbed the shirt over his taut stomach and swallowed hard. Half-lidded, he tongued the corner of his mouth revealing a smug smile. No wonder people lost their shit about him. He looked bewitching and fun, but most importantly, uncomplicated. The perfect remedy for your stupid, stupid heart.

“Kiss me,” you blurted, eyes locked on the mark at the edge of his lower lip.

“What?”

A quick glance back at the door and you frowned before closing the distance to press your mouth roughly on his. For a second, he seemed confused, but then responded eagerly to the kiss. When you pulled back, panting and determined, he tongued the corner of his mouth in amusement.

“Not complaining, but where did all that ‘I don’t make out with my buddies’ philosophy go?”

“As far as buddies go, you’re the shittiest one I have. Not much of a loss there,” you joked, shifting your weight impatiently. Now of all times, Tae had to grow friendship ethics. Although you should’ve praised his character development, right now was a rather inconvenient moment to be a gentleman. What you needed was a distraction in the form of an unapologetic fuckboy. Fast.

Luck on your side, Taehyung just grinned cheekily, happy to indulge your sudden neediness, and tipped his head towards the crowd. He let you guide him through Dionysus, to a dark spot where you’d fuse with the stench of sweat and bad ideas.

“Gimme a minute, ok? Don’t move!” Shortie greeted with a warm smile, waving above intoxicated laughs and the strings of an old song’s bass. 

Seokjin nodded and leaned on the counter, avoiding the alcohol spilt all over it. Dionysus was especially crowded that night, which only made scanning the multitude in hopes to find you harder. 

After your last conversation, he gave you some space, a chance to miss him. On paper, it was a good strategy. What he didn’t expect was his plan backfiring. After a couple of weeks of self-restraint, his will power ran out. He missed you. Instead of working on his next project as he should’ve, his car brought him across Seoul to you —his personal bittersweet pill. He couldn't help but smile, even when the air reeked of sweat and the sticky floor threatened to peel off the red of his soles. What wouldn’t one of those sensationalists that defamed him give to publicly gut him for his new-found addiction. Those ever-changing eyes that begged him to keep trying despite your constant rejection made quitting you impossible. Only if you would see it too.

“Now, I’m all yours. Sorry to make you wait,” said the petite bartender, already pouring his usual drink. “I’m happy to see you, it’s been a while.”

“Work has been busy lately. No help tonight?”

 “If you mean it in a ‘ is my hot-ass crush here? ’ kind of way, she is,” your friend said, catching his intentions easily. Not that he put any effort in masking them, constantly looking around the place for you. “I don’t know where she went, though. She was sitting over there just a moment a— what the...?”

Seokjin followed her gaze, fixed intently somewhere behind him. Your body pressed against someone’s, fingers buried in blonde hair. Unable to look away, he watched a mouth clash against yours before traveling down your neck.

“Oh, Jin, I’m sorry. This dumbhead, I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Taehyung? Really? He’s like her little brother.”

I’m pretty sure “little brothers” don’t stick their tongues down your throat . Shortie kept talking in the background, probably making excuses for you. To his surprise, the first thing he felt wasn’t anger or jealousy, but something close to satisfaction. An odd sense of pride filled his chest every time the blonde touched you where he had before, when he kissed over the skin he had marked as his already. 

The man turned the two of you around, giving Seokjin a perfect view of your backside. Long fingers travelled down your spine, cupping your delicious ass with a rough squeeze. The same ass he remembered perking back for more despite the leftover sting his palm left behind. He couldn’t shake the vibrant shade of red he created that night, nor the soft whines you sang for him. Pretty eyes clouded with lust as you came on top of him, now etched in his memory forever —along with the iciness you left behind on his sheets the morning after.

With a fist full of his leather jacket, you laughed. Seokjin could tell it didn’t quite reach your eyes. In fact, it seemed like the attention on the man in front of you was only half-hearted. 

Yes, he noticed the pink tint on your cheeks, the hips grinding on a thigh clad in ripped jeans and shortened breaths. But he was also aware of your eyes bouncing around the pub distractedly as your companion nipped your jaw. A smirk tugged on Seokjin’s lips. He’d seen withdrawal before, when his mother quit smoking. Gum could not replace a cigarette and a toyboy could not replace him.

Meanwhile, you kept trying to redirect your wandering thoughts to Taehyung, who locked lips once again, sucking on your lower one. Closing your eyes, you attempted to concentrate solely on his tongue on your mouth. The air was humid, too many bodies in one room. It stuck to your skin the same way it did at the club with Seokjin, but somehow thicker. Tae smelled rich and exotic, nothing like the subtle sweetness of his surely expensive cologne. You remember because it lingered on your skin the morning after, along with the marks he imprinted all over your body. You weren’t as excited for Taehyung to leave his.

Catching your train of thought, you emptied your mind and only allowed pleasure to invade it. You left out a sigh at the hot pressure running through your veins as his thigh flexed against your core just right. It was all you needed at that moment, a nice body against yours to fight the infection of Kim Seokjin. Large hands roamed your body, brushing your breasts on their way up to your hair and tangled there to deepen the kiss. Just when you had achieved the perfect balance between numbing everything around you and enjoying the feeling, the blonde whispered hotly in your ear. His low grumble shook you out of your blissed state, crumbling any prospect of eluding reality.

All of the sudden you found the spicy kisses bland. A light frown etched between your eyebrows when you studied his profile. It dawned on you that it was Taehyung who just told you to come all over his jeans. Taehyung. The same guy who sent you stupid memes while taking a shit because “he was bored”. Fuck, you even came close to orgasming in front of him. Because of him. You winced at the thought. What a genius idea, 15-minutes-ago you. Way to go.

About to detangle from his hold to apologise for the impromptu makeout session —a damn good one, true, but probably scarring for life— he beat you to it. Hands still around you, he arched an eyebrow over your shoulder. 

“Hey, man. Want something?” he rasped out.

“The lady and I need to talk.”

Great . Just fucking peachy. You took a steady breath before turning around, putting a bit of space between you and your friend. The first thing you noticed was Seokjin’s piercing gaze, squinting slightly from how intently he looked at you. 

“Do we now?” you questioned acidly, wearing your best unfazed visage.

Seokjin looked damn fine tonight. Hands casually in his pockets and the gleam of his silver watch just showing. In that position his shoulders squared further. The urge to bite along the curves leading up to his neck rose out of nowhere. You really needed a cold shower.

He smirked at your response, as if he knew your deepest, dirtiest secrets.

“Yes, we do,” a command more than anything else. Still, you recognised the glint of playfulness in the black coffee of his eyes. The one you foolishly claimed for yourself, even though he probably used it on other girls. “Leave the puppy behind and let’s go outside. It’s too loud in here.”

“Who the hell is this jerk again?” Tae enquired dryly, offended by the nickname. He placed a hand on your hip, squeezing slightly to regain your attention.

You jumped slightly at the contact. Seokjin’s eyes snapped up, acknowledging his presence behind you, still too close. The sharp edge of his jaw rolled in annoyance, almost imperceptibly, but he was quick to smooth it with light-hearted indifference.

“The only reason she’s making out with you, kid.”

Amidst the deafening ambiance, you heard a pin drop. There was a beat of silence, tension so high it took you both a moment to register. Then, Taehyung stepped forward, moving you aside. He was not a fighter, despite what one may think with that foul mouth and attitude of his, but he had no problem in punching a douchebag.

“The fuck did you say?”

“Tae,” you stopped, catching his arm. Seokjin remained unaffected, holding the younger’s glare with neutral expression. “Please, don’t. Just go, I’ll deal with the asshole.”

Brows still furrowed, he studied you for a moment with scepticism. “You sure?” 

“Yeah, look I—” You pulled him closer, so you could talk to him more privately. No need for Seokjin to hear anything that could be used against you later. “I’m sorry. About all of this, I mean. I shouldn’t have kissed you tonight when there’s other, um, stuff on my mind. I needed something to help me unwind and you were here so... ”

“Five more minutes and you might’ve ‘unwound’ all the way.”

Your face burned immediately, aware of his lingering taste and the stickiness between your thighs. Pure joy bloomed on his lips at your reaction.

“Back to the whole friend thing?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “but you owe me a beer for the semi.” 

With that, he nodded at Seokjin in some sort of solemn bro code and the older reciprocated. Men’s short grudge-holding span was always fascinating to witness. He waved both of you goodbye, as if the awkward situation had never happened. Trust Taehyung not to really give a fuck. He was the best at it.

You eyed Seokjin up and down and snaked through the crowd towards the back exit without a word. He followed closely the trail you opened, people too distracted to care if their drinks spilled when you shoulder them. Not sure if you felt angry, relieved, mortified, confused,  scared shitless or all of the above, you avoided looking back to check if Seokjin was still there. How did a fun night out with your friends end up like this? You were at home and ready to order a nutritionist’s worst nightmare. You coming to Dio, right? The boys perform tonight. Pretty pleeeease?🥺 That cursed text was to blame. Whoever invented best friends should be sued.

The difference in temperature made you shiver when you stepped out of the pub. A single bulb illuminated the alley, rain puddles and broken glass reflecting its dim light. The night was calm. Not a single siren wailed, like they usually did. Only the constant boom of the bass drum could be heard now, noise muffled underwater, as the door closed behind Seokjin. Your own pulse followed the rhythm, feeling the vibrations deep in your chest.

“Why are you here?” you finally asked. “Just to ruin my night or did you make a sport of being a jerk?”

“Doing you a favour. It didn’t look like you were having a good time,” he answered, amused. You could almost see the ‘I know when you are’ itching to follow. 

“That’s not for you to decide. Go home.”

“Not without you.”

His wolfish smirk stretched as he threw a wink. A bit late to try to lift the mood, in your opinion. He seemed to forget that the world didn’t revolve around his stupid, handsome face. It happened at the nyotaimori event, and it happened tonight. Even if you would’ve ended up alone anyway, he had no right to come all the way to Dionysus to mess with your head and ruin your plans —said plans being to drink the embarrassment of almost fucking Taehyung away. Still, he shouldn’t have interfered. You shouldn’t have tried to relax your emotional cramp with Tae either, but it was his mistakes you wanted to focus on, not yours.

“I missed that frown of yours, sushi girl.”

Unaware that you’d been scowling, your arms crossed in self-defense.

“Listen, you can’t just barge in on my life every time you’re bored,” you chided. “Get a hobby, plant a tree or whatever. Didn’t you like fishing? Go do that. Just don’t bother me.”

His features softened slightly. “You remember.”

How could you forget the half an hour rant at the burger joint? Truth be told, you did disconnect half-way, but you recall his somewhat boyish excitement as he gave you a whole monograph on baits. Also the fish puns, those you recall with painful accuracy.

“Just because you are full of yourself enough to have your ears clogged doesn't mean that mine are.”

He shook his head and laughed at your comment. When he stood in front of you to brush a stray strand out of your face, you froze for a second. The tenderness of the gesture was suffocating, his gaze on yours too. No matter how hard you tried to keep distance, Seokjin always found a way to close it. You wanted to run.

His eyes fell on your lips for a moment, intense and wanting. Suddenly that sliver of fondness evaporated from them as something else caught his attention. A hand slid down to your neck and his thumb wiped there repeatedly as if he wanted to clean the spot. Once again, his jaw tensed and his stare grew jet black. Swallowing hard, you felt your cheeks reddening both at his touch and the admonishing tut he gave. He was glaring at what you assumed was a hickey left there by Taehyung. Irrefutable proof of your useless attempt to escape the itch that was Seokjin. Because he was exactly that —a maddening, unreachable itch that one cannot assuage. 

“Don’t you think it’s cruel to toy with that Kurt Cobain wannabe?” The tone remained teasing, but his hard, steel stare gave away his mood. He’d never felt jealousy before, and it tasted dry and sour. “He might get the idea that you’re interested.”

You held his gaze, puffing with cockiness to disguise any sign of guilt. “I wouldn’t worry about him, he gets what casual means. Ask him for pointers on that.”

“You think I don’t?” he chuckled airly, brow raising. “I’ve had plenty of that, believe me. But this? Us ? Nothing casual about it, sweet cheeks. I told you already: I like you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Perfect teeth on display, he smiled at you. Selfish bastard, airing those words so carelessly. He gave the impression of a teacher explaining the slowest student how to do simple math, not a man admitting his feelings. Yet, the confession sounded brutally sweet in the quiet back alley. Perhaps the beer still buzzing was to blame or the opiate smell of his cologne coating your senses, but you wondered if it would be that bad to believe him. Then reality poured on you like tar. Even if he did feel like he said, it wasn’t worth the risk. He’d grow tired eventually and leave, like everyone else. He’d ask why couldn’t you be sweet and shy like his exes. He’d tell you that he would never introduce someone like you to his parents. He’d text saying that he would come home late after work, night after night. He’d call you a slut because ‘don’t lie to me, I saw you flirting’ with someone’s panties in his back pocket still. Every time you were naive enough to catch feelings, you’d paid for your stupidity tenfold and ended up hurt and broken. You wouldn’t go through it all again.

“There’s no us ,” you reminded both him and you.

“We should change that, then,” he offered with a shrug. “I want us.”

The fucker knew how to play the strings of your heart, a master puppeteer with the cruelest intentions. Every word was a shiver of excitement that pooled in your uneasy stomach. It felt a lot like love and it was terrifying. Love always faded into ugly crying, ice-cream and vodka. Cornered against your own crumbling walls, you transformed your mixed feelings into bitterness.

“I don’t know what kind of spoiled-prince fantasy you live in, but in the real world people don’t always get what they want. Shocking, I know. Get a whisky to swallow that crazy fact and leave me alone.”

You shoved him away and walked back towards the door, desperate for Seokjin-less air. The pressure in your lungs was suffocating. 

“Don’t run away, let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing left to say, rich boy. I told you I don’t play couples anymore.” Seokjin snorted, surely about to make a quick retort, but you cut him. “Find someone else for your little rom-com attempt. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m going back in to find a man who can fuck me and not catch feelings after the first kiss like a Disney princess.”

“I’m not sure if your goal is to hurt me or make me lose interest, sweet cheeks, but it’s not working,” he stated, low grit in his tone. “Push me away all you want, I’m not letting my perfect woman slip through my fingers. Not when I know you feel the same way I do.”

You should’ve left and forgotten about him, but you took the bait.

“Oh, please, enlighten me. How’s that exactly?”

“Restless. Every fucking second of the day. Wondering if I’d laugh at the joke I just told or if I’d enjoy the new restaurant you’re at. Tired and grumpy, because you want me lying next to you so bad that you can’t sleep at night. Frustrated, because the moment we kissed, I ruined everyone else for you.”

You snorted, amused both at the accuracy of his words and how much they irritated you. Hopefully he’d assume you were mocking him. It had to be some sort of superpower, there was no other way he could read you so effortlessly. With every layer of sarcasm he peeled you felt more naked, more vulnerable to his sharp sweet nothings. Falling for him felt inevitable and you were afraid of crash-landing.

“Maybe you didn’t see me making out with a guy literally 5 minutes ago.”

“Oh, I did, sweet cheeks,” he said slowly, taking a step towards you. His lips curled upwards and you swallowed hard at the sight. He was hypnotic, expensive clothes fitting like a second skin. What an awful moment for your legs to become butter. “I saw his sloppy tongue on your mouth and you not smiling at him like you do with me. I saw how you kissed him just to take me out of your head.”

Your retreat ended quickly when your back bumped into the door you had been so determined to walk through. Emergency exit now blocked, the only strategy left was to hold your ground. And you would’ve, but the beating of your heart drowned any coherent thought. He stopped when the tips of his shoes kissed yours. Lifting your chin up, you tried to swallow the sand in your throat to no avail. Seokjin propped his hands on each side of your head, the slow tempo of his movements almost theatrical. Spikes of anticipation raised all over your skin. As he caged you, his eyes leveled with yours. You saw a glimmer of triumph in them, lips stretched in a self-satisfied grin. Maybe you could bite it off, kiss him hard enough to erase it.

“Careful, your ego is showing.” 

“Your bluff too,” he countered.

The poorly lit alley stayed silent for hours in the little bubble your words created. Stray raindrops that slid from the rooftops hit the ground uncomfortably loud. Perhaps it was just your percepcion. Seokjin held your glare with blazing determination. It was useless, you couldn’t convince him to leave. Around him you felt made out of glass, he saw through every lie and every rejection. You were love-sick and you both knew. There was no miracle remedy, no snake oil to cure this heart infection —it spread too deep already. The further away you tried to stay out of love, the deeper you got in it. The poetic irony might just as well slap an ‘I was here’ sticker on your forehead. 

With a heavy sigh you accepted defeat. 

“What do you want from me, Jin?”

Your whisper came out as a plea. Arms went limp on your sides, exhausted. ‘ Please, be gentle ,’ you wanted to say. Even if the words never came out, Seokjin understood. Your features stiffened as you braced yourself for the blow, ready to take the hit. You looked too fragile, too beaten. He hated it. Seokjin felt the need to hold you and make all the promises he intended to keep. He’d be there to lull you to sleep if you cried, to share your smiles, to lift you when you fell, to say ‘sorry’ every time he’d fuck up and ‘it’s ok’ when you did. A four-letter word burned his throat like alcohol, but he wouldn’t voice it —he didn’t want to scare you away.

“Right now? I want to kiss you. I want to take you home and take my time eating you out to get whatever doubt you might have about me, about us, out of your system. I want to make you come while you scream my name and forget that stupid idiot and any other idiot before him. I want to fuck you slow to make you understand how much you want me and then hard to show you how much I need you.” He inched even closer, trapping your eyes with his so you could read his heart in them. “I want to find you beside me in the morning and make a routine out of it. I want you to laugh at my naked butt in an apron while I make breakfast and fuck you again and again in the kitchen until you to beg me to never let go.” 

He paused, lifting a hand to cup your cheek. His eyes fleeted down as his lips ghosted yours, tickling the skin with his breath, and then back up for his next words. 

“I want everything with you.”

You were desperate to close the distance in a kiss, drown in his words. Techno beat pounded in your chest so loud that you thought something might explode. Everything . You wanted that too.

“Jin, I…” as you talked, your lips graced his. He looked at you intently, pupils completely blown and a choked gasp escaped him at the brief contact. The hand on your face tensed, showing you his neediness. It only spurred yours. “I’ve tried this before and it never turns out well.” 

“Not with me, sweet cheeks.” 

“I’m scared. What if—?” 

“Don’t be,” he cut with a smile and a wink. “You’re stuck with me. I promise.”

Tired of fighting a lost battle, you gave in. Your body moved on its own and you closed the barely-existing space between you, sealing your mouth and his with a kiss. There was urgency in his response, as his tongue immediately asked for permission. He kissed you with a starved need that you were quickly to match. His kisses were ardent, numbing you from anything outside Seokjin. Every doubt and heartbreak died where he started. Eager to taste you, he bit your lips until they puffed. Although neither of you couldn’t get enough of it, there was something gentle in your passion. His arms encased you and brought you close enough to fuse with him. Muscle memory laced your fingers to his dark hair, disheveling its perfect shape into whatever you wanted, and your hips grounded his. You molded together in a frenzy of desire. It was satisfying to see every limb and kiss back in place, exactly where they were meant to be. Like one of those compilation videos, it was addicting. The only thing missing was his bare skin on yours to make the moment perfect.

As you got lost in him, his words filled your head, triggering a moan that Seokjin drank with devotion. Perhaps it was foolish, but you let yourself believe him. No flowers, no romantic music in the background, just sincerity in his eyes as he said them. He didn’t paint a movie-like romance where every day would be perfect. He didn’t swear a life of never-ending happiness or vowed to never hurt you. No, he made one promise: that he’d be there. The effortless conviction in that one promise told you that he’d stay and try, that he’d fight for you. He was stubborn and persistent enough for you to trust him. Besides, he always kept his promises before. 

Now that you allowed what you felt for him to flow freely, you couldn’t cointan it. He flipped your world upside down. You wanted to tell him what an irritating, fun, conceited, irresistible prick he was, that sometimes you would choke him and others you would kiss him until your lips drew blood, that with him you felt the barest you’ve ever been, but also the safest. Words weren’t enough to express all that, so you kissed him fervently and urged him closer, your heartbeat reverberating in his chest, to show him instead. He grunted, immersed in you and those words you didn’t speak. No need for it, he heard them in the way you moaned and pressed against his hardened cock, seeking desperately some kind of friction. Your hands roamed his shoulders, crinkling the material of his shirt. He felt so yearned for that he forgot to breathe. When his lungs couldn’t take it anymore, Seokjin broke the kiss, missing it the moment cold air hit his wet lips. You whined at the loss, but allowed yourself a moment to recover. Panting heavily, you both stared at each other. At that moment, he looked perfect. Dishevelled and void of that cold mask he wore most of the time, it was the final shot you could take —you were recklessly and catastrophically in love, with no hope of recovery. All that fight you put up, just to lose anyway. What a poor soldier you’d make. With a breathy laugh you rested your forehead on his chin, which brought a bright smile. Still trying to get some air, he kissed your hairline tenderly as he brushed back flyaway strands. Your fingers mimicked the intimate gesture, drawing circles on the nape of his long neck.

“By the way, I don’t beg,” you quipped suddenly, lifting your head so he could see the arch on your brow and a half bitten smirk. The moment was getting too soppy already.

“You look like you enjoy new experiences.”

A wink and a kiss and then you were in his arms again, hidden in your newfound shelter as it started to drizzle in the back alley of Dionysus.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: @aretha170

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ, ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ © hear-me-growl, October 2020 

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