#how old even was i when i made this blog?? i had to be 14 at LEAST. do you know how awful that is to think about | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hugshughes · 9 months

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IM LITERALLY LIKE GOING CRAZY WAITING FOR U TO POST HARD LAUNCH LIKE GOING FERAL

Hard Launch C. Bedard.

Connor Bedard x fem!reader

synopsis - Connor has kept your relationship under wraps for a while just because he knows how crazy people can be; what happens when he knows he needs you right next to him at the draft?

wc - 2.1k

contains - cursing, reader has anxiety/is anxious, Connor picks at the skin around his nails, a ciwyw by taylor swift reference (sorry), probably some inaccuracies when it comes to like how the draft goes, kissing, fluff.

an - this was supposed to be posted a few days ago but when i proofread it i absolutely hated it so i started over! sorry about the inaccuracies related to the draft and how it works, i had to put a few things that probably aren’t true for the sake of the story. also!! when i reply to comments i have to do it from my primary blog which is @hugshughesy so i’ll reply but it won’t say like creator i don’t think. i’ve been like rereading this and i hate it might delete soon feeling silly. i hope you guys like it!!

“Baby, you have to stop doing that.”

You grab Connor’s hand and slip it into yours, partially because you just love him, and mostly to get him to stop picking at his cuticles. He blushes at your concern, looking over at you sheepishly.

“Sorry, just nervous.” You nodded, laying your head on his shoulder. He and you both. Although, Connor probably had a little more to be nervous about than you, seeing as he’s gonna be the #1 draft pick tonight and be blasted on the tv screens of millions.

You were more nervous about the fact that you’d never been seen with Connor before, no one knew he was off the market, and when they saw his golden girl sitting by him tonight at the draft, the 14 year old girls were definitely gonna track you down like FBI agents.

You’d seen all the fan accounts, ones with bios that would read, “Connor’s girlfriend (real)”. And those made you laugh, but you also saw the hostile people that would threaten you and say terrible things and they didn’t even know you actually existed.

“Well, everything will be okay because one, we already obviously know you’re gonna go #1 because you’re just like the best. And two, your family is here, and your friends are here. And they all love you so so much Connie.”

“What about my girlfriend, y’think she loves me?”

You giggled at his question, furrowing your eyebrows and letting out a ‘hmmmm’ as if you were thinking about the answer.

“Actually, I think she loves you the more than anything else.”

Connor laughed now, wrapping his arm around your waist, which you initially accepted as an act of love, but then your boyfriend start tasing your sides.

You squirm and squeal, jerking around in Connor’s hold, not until you quite literally roll yourself off the hotel bed are you free. You look up at him from your place on the floor, an unamused look displayed on your face. While Connor’s expression is quite the opposite, as he giggles to himself.

“I tell you how much I love you, and you just throw me on the floor? Wow.”

He laughs louder at this, his bright smile melting your heart.

“I didn’t throw you on the floor, you did that to yourself.”

He holds his arms out for you, grabbing your hands and pulling you back up on the bed.

“Well, you still haven’t even told me you love me back so.”

“You know I love you the most. I know you know that.”

You do know that, as surprising as it would be to someone that’s seen his awkwardness and shortness in interviews and things like that, Connor is very expressive with his love for you. He always shows you how grateful he is for you.

“Connor! Gotta start getting ready soon, cameras will be in here in 30!”

His mom shouts from the adjoining door between the two hotel rooms his family was currently in. He shouts back an affirmative then sighs, laying back on the bed.

“Everything’s gonna go perfect Con, you’re completely surrounded by people who love you so much, and I know it’s a huge event, but there’s no need to be nervous baby.”

He looks at you, he practically has hearts in his eyes, he gives you a smile. He nods and sits up, standing to go grab his garment bag with his suit.

While he went to do that you went into the bathroom, making sure he didn’t mess up your makeup you’d just done messing around with you. It was still perfect, thankfully, and you closed the door to put your dress on.

You changed, then fixed your hair, you’d gotten it done a few days before, so you could do it quickly on draft day.

You touch up everything, lastly taking off your necklace with a gold heart as the charm and taking out your new gold ‘C’ necklace. Wearing his initial meant more than “belonging” to him, it was because he’s your boy, the boy who knows you.

Connor walked into the bathroom, suit pants and button up on. He practically had hearts in his eyes when he saw you. He wraps his arms around your hips and leans down to lay his chin on your shoulder.

“Wow, gorgeous. You look fuckin’ perfect.”

You feel heat envelop your face, giving Connor a big smile.

“I have a little something to show you. Nothing special, but I think you’ll like it.

He nods, looking at you expectedly. You show him the necklace, and the hearts in his eyes double in size. He looks from the necklace to you, and then back down again.

“Are you serious?”

The hope in Connor’s voice was apparent. He was in awe at the idea of you wearing his initial. You knowing and showing your love for him gets him so happy. When you nod at him, his smile grows. He helps you put it on, then turns you around to look at you.

You looked perfect, so, so gorgeous. You left the bathroom, sitting on the bed to put your heels on. The Bedard family minus Connor was in the other room now, talking. You fastened the buckle on your last heel, and Connie sits next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“Everything’s gonna change after tonight, can feel it.”

Connor whispers to you, you can’t be much comfort to him though because the second you’re about to try, his mom comes through, letting him know the camera guys are here.

He sighs and nods, going to stand up but not before you kiss his head, giving his hand a squeeze. You stayed where you were as you watched Connor enter the other room, closing the door behind him. He knew you were already on edge and he didn’t want your anxiety to spike earlier than it had to.

After about 20 minutes Madisen texts you that it’s time for everyone to go. You grab your wallet and exit the room, seeing the Bedards and a few off-duty cameramen already in the hallway. Connor’s hand was gripping yours the whole way to Bridgestone.

You guys were finally in your seats after almost an hour. You were sat in between Connor and his mom, much to your dismay. You felt it was only right for Connor to sit by his family with you on the end but he whined and whined until his mom urged you to sit next to him.

Right now you knew there were many cameras on you, your leg bounced at the thought. Connor brushed his hand over your knee, whispering your name. You snap out of your thoughts, jerking your head towards him.

“Are you alright baby?”

Your eyes soften at his question, smiling and nodding at him. You pat your hand on his that covers your knee.

“Y’know, just a little nervous that everyone’s about to see that you’re my mega-hot boyfriend.”

He laughs at that, his grip on your knee tightening. Your free hand moves to the charm on your necklace, holding it tightly.

“Well, I think everyone’s gonna be confused about how I have such a hot girlfriend.”

It was your turn to laugh, you could feel the nerves prickling at the back of your neck slightly fade as you looked at your boy.

“Well, I think that number one draft picks are super hot, so.”

He looks at you with a big smile, his eyes soft and full of adoration, he brings his hand up and pushes your hand from your necklace, fingers brushing over the ‘C’ sitting on your chest.

Before you know it, the draft begins to start and the Blackhawks are on the clock. You and Connor’s legs are bouncing in sync, but you can’t help but look at him with a smile. It obviously doesn’t take long before Kyle Davidson is up at the podium.

“And with the first overall selection of the 2023 NHL draft, the Chicago Blackhawks are very proud to select, from the Regina Pats of the Western Hockey League, Connor Bedard.”

He smiles so bright, so big. He stands up and you follow, he engulfs you in a huge hug.

“Thank you so much, I love you so much.”

You say it right back to him before he moves to hug the rest of his family and friends. When he walks past you again to get out to the aisle he takes you by complete surprise, kissing you in front of everyone. That was quite the way to hard launch your relationship. He quickly pulls away and goes to bro hug Adam. Your eyes completely widen, quickly turning your head to look at Madisen, who is laughing at your shock, and her brother’s boldness.

You would’ve never expected Connor to do that, you’re guessing the adrenaline got to him, but wow. You recovered from your moment and clapped as you watched your boyfriend strut up to the stage, shaking hands with the Blackhawks staff and sliding on his jersey.

You hold his mom’s hand as you feel tears rushing your waterline. You’d known Connor since you were both 10 and watching him up on the stage was definitely overwhelming.

You guys sit and celebrate the other picks and after about an hour you all were out somewhere on the inside of Bridgestone arena, waiting for Connor to finish up promotional stuff.

He comes out from a hallway and the smile on his face is absolutely heart melting. He hugs his family before he makes his way to you, hugging you very tightly.

“Connor Bedard. What was that?”

He smiles proudly, kissing you once again, just longer and harder. Once he pulls away you’re dazed, a love-struck look in your eyes, and if you could, you would have hearts in your eyes.

“I don’t even know, just felt like kissin’ you, and I think I was on like an adrenaline rush or something.”

You laughed and nodded at him with an amused look, cupping his face with your hands. His family absolutely loved you two, they had been waiting for the day you guys admitted you liked each other since the 2018 8th-grade dance.

They saw how you brought Connor out of his shell, and how incredibly happy you made him. You declared where you would be attending college the night of the draft lottery, for no apparent reason of course. The University of Chicago was a school you were always interested in, but Connor in Chicago meant that much more to you.

After hours of hanging out and celebrating you guys were finally back at the hotel. You showered after Connor finished up and then after you were standing at the sink, pajamas on as you did your skincare.

For the second time that day, Connor came into the bathroom, wrapping his arms around you. You looked at him through the mirror, smiling softly. Connor looked at you and saw everything he wanted. He felt so excited to be able to have you with him in the Windy City. He knew he was only 17, but thoughts of you being his wife crossed his mind.

You finished up in the bathroom and you both went back out to the room, the door between the two rooms you had was ajar, allowing his parents to keep watch of you two if they needed to. They trusted you both deeply, but you were still two teenagers sharing a bed, so.

You both snuggled up on your bed, and you scrolled through Twitter and Tiktok looking at things about the draft and Connor and your relationship. You had become a small meme among the hockey girl fandom, the video of Connor kissing you and then your reaction going viral.

There were so so so many kind comments, commenting on your beauty and smile, and how happy you made Connor look. He was very happy with how the night went, which made you happy obviously.

You both eventually fell asleep, only after whispering for hours about how everything is gonna be in Chicago, how much fun you think it’ll be. You played with Connor’s hair while his breathing slowed, his grip around you tightening.

You knew that no matter where Connor went, you would go too as long as he wanted you there. And he always would want you there. You were everything to him, you and hockey were what kept him going.

#connor bedard #connor bedard x reader #connor bedard imagine #chicago #chicago blackhawks #blackhawks #nhl blackhawks #blackhawks hockey #chicago blackhawks x reader #connor bedard blurb #nhl x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl draft #nhl draft 2023 #hockey #nhl

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

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AITA for getting a friend banned from Tumblr ? I(19nb) met a group of people through fandom (6 of us, adults) and we started talking on discord. It was fun and everyone was cool. We (privately) would send Fandom Takes on the discord and kind of make fun of how bad they were sometimes. It was pretty harmless, until one friend Summer(26f) (fake names) decided to fixate on a particular person named Brian in the fandom.

Brian was, I believe, about 13 or 14 years old at the time. They were a system blog (sorry I don't understand systems very well) and Brian was (or identified as?) a bunch of characters in this fandom from a lineage of ancestors that Summer liked. So I think Summer took it personally or something that this person mischaracterized them cuz they were her favorite characters?

Like I said, it started as harmless, privately posting some stuff that Brian had said and saying stuff like "me when I'm 13 years old" etc etc but Summer started to get an unhealthy fixation with this person and would start posting DAILY about Brian. I mean paragraph-long rants about this kid. It was getting out of hand so I started defending Brian even though I don't even know him cuz it started to sound really mean. But Summer would just kind of laugh it off and say "well its not like I'm saying this in public"

Summer also started to attack Brian personally about the whole 'system' thing, i don't really know anything about systems, and again, this kid is a total stranger, so idgaf, but Summer said that tiktok has totally bastardized what systems are and she's sick of kids thinking its an identity thing and stuff like that, since she works as a PSW in a psych ward and deals with people who have that disorder, I think this is also a big reason why Brian made her so mad, but again... Summer and Brian don't even know each other so it was getting uncomfortable, like it became so that nobody even posted in the Bad-Takes channel anymore bc Summer was just constantly posting personal stuff about Brian and it made us all feel weird about the channel altogether.

So this is where it starts to suck: Summer makes a sideblog, burnbook style, called something like We-Hate-Brian or Brian-Fucking-Sucks (cant remember the name) and starts literally copying Brian's text posts and parodying them and editing stuff into his icon photo and his art. She posts about this in our discord thinking its absolutely hilarious and I immediately start DMing everyone to mass report the blog (and her main) cuz I'm ashamed we even let it get this far.

So Summer gets banned from Tumblr, gets upset about it in the discord, and nobody really replies to her insane rant about it, she's totally convinced that somehow it was Brian himself. We all move to another discord to quietly ghost her and she messages us once in a while but I think what happened really soured everyone on her. Nobody has ever told Summer that it was us that got her banned, or why we did it. I feel kind of weird about it since we never told her and just collectively agreed to ghost her to avoid the inevitable drama. so AITA??

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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thirdnap · 4 months

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Hello,

Here is the life update of my past 4 years.

I began this blog many years ago in 2012 when I was only 14 years old, and I then slowly gained the courage to start posting art at 17 when I joined the K fandom. It's wild to think that I am now 25!

I was never quite consistent in posting since I only shared my art here whenever I felt like it, but it slowed down ever so gradually to basically 1 post a year for Yata’s birthday. This blog helped me with my fear of showing my art to others as I was incredibly embarrassed of my work for a really long time.

I soon moved to the USA from my homeland and attended animation school for 1 year, and then studied illustration and visual development for 4 years and I managed to accomplish many things I never could have imagined. I graduated with honors this past May, was selected by the faculty and head of department as my major’s trustee scholar, completed my 84-page art book thesis, got a few pieces into the Society of Illustrators, and my school even shot a mini docu-film about me, my art and my life where I got to share my upbringing. Art school was very demanding and at times tough but I managed to get a lot out of it :)

In July of this year, I moved to California from Florida and I’m much happier than I’ve ever been. I come from a very small country so I never expected to get this far in the art world. I drew Yata for fun in my bedroom whenever I wanted to and now I’m in LA breaking into the animation industry (receiving my first credit too!)

the drawings I share here are a very very small part of the illustrations I make weekly. I wish I could share them with everyone as I’m very proud of them but I enjoy separating my fandom life from my real life a little too much! Surprisingly I am working as a background artist at the moment despite never drawing backgrounds in this blog lol. I think many of you would be surprised at how different my work is from irl!!

It hasn’t always been great, so I don't want to make it seem like it's been all perfect. I’ve had many hard times too and at the moment I am extremely homesick since I haven't returned home in a long time but I think these are needed sacrifices.

However, I'm excited for 2024. I'm looking forward to growing as an artist and my goal is to continue to have fun with art as much as I have right now. I think I’m lucky to have a great support system including my best friend @fuurais who has been by my side for 10+ years and I managed to convert into a K artist too <3

Thank you for the support, for the kind messages, and for the excitement every time I post. I am always happy when I think of this blog and the friends I made. I unironically think about Yata every day as he is past being my comfort character tbh. I am currently writing this with full-on orange hair that I've had for a few years now lol.

I don’t think I’ll be as active as I was at 17 but I will try to not ghost this blog completely. There are a lot of things I haven’t drawn yet that I really want to do and I'd love to share those drawings with everyone.

Lots of love -

Tael <3

#k project #project k #yata misaki #misaki yata

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cinnajun · 2 years

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ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: ghosting | njm

summary | na jaemin is your soulmate; having known for about eight months now, you’ve been able to come to terms with the fact that you’re never, ever going to let him know it. (OR, a series of events in which you're forced to face your fate.)

genre | soulmate au. non-idol au.angst & some fluff at the end, y/n kinda destroys jaemin’s week. fear of commitment is strong and y/n has social anxiety. mentions of alcohol. some nsfw implications (conversation) but nothing explicit. quick/unreliable narration.

wc | 7.6k

a/n: the fic that was the inception of this blog! it’s based upon a mini fic i had planned out for beomgyu of txt, but i twisted a bit for this (obviously). i’m not as happy with this as i could be, but i think it’s good enough lol

ft. aespa's karina/winter, itzy's ryujin.

JUNE 21, 14 YEARS AGO. You’re seven years old when you first ask your mom about the little sun on your right wrist, curious about what lies behind the blue, swirled lines. She seemed so amused, at the time, staring at you with such admiration that remembering it made you feel sick.

“When you’re older,” she said, kneeling on the floor to be level with you, “you’re gonna meet someone with a matching mark on their left wrist.”

Gently, she picked your hand up, your palm facing the sky. “Right here.” She pointed at a spot on the corner of your wrist. “Maybe a moon, or a storm cloud, or a planet…whoever has the other half will be clear to you. You’ll recognize it. And that person will be your perfect other half.”

To a seven-year-old, who watched princess movies every day and dreamt of a prince to sweep them off their feet, the mark was dazzling. The thought of someone tailor-made to be your companion was dazzling.

You wish you still thought the same way.

FEBRUARY 18, 3 YEARS AGO, and you’re graduating high school. You spent your days sitting in the library with your friends, inhaling information as if it was more vital to you than water. You hadn’t started trying to cover the mark, then—in fact, you were infatuated with a friend’s relationship with her soulmate, and wanted so desperately to have the same link they did.

The ceremony was long, and you fought off falling asleep for most of it, but you were so proud you had done it. It, as in graduate high school with an impressive university to go to and recognition from your father, who never seemed to care what you were doing.

Then, university seemed like a dream. You remember your mom saying, “Hey, what if you meet your soulmate there?” and you remember the giddiness you felt at even the notion of that. Your life was beginning, now, and it made you feel excited.

That was the first time you’d felt truly excited about something in years. There were no more CSATs, no more disapproving stares when you got less than a 95 on a test, no more endless homework assignments and sleepless nights.

You wished it would’ve turned out like you thought it would in your brain.

SEPTEMBER 01, 3 YEARS AGO, and you’re in a psychiatrist’s office, spiders crawling up and down your throat as you struggle to find comfort. It’s so…artificial, in the way that calming art prints and fake plants line the room, in the way that the couch you sat on felt new and unused, in the way it smelled faintly of mint and lavender.

“It’s something we see a lot in first-year university students,” the doctor explained, obviously trying to reassure you. “I mean, kids like you spend their entire high school experiences with their noses in their books, and then they just don’t know how to handle the real world. With some good therapy and exposure, you’ll be right up to speed, okay?”

Nothing was going how you envisioned it. You had two friends, one of which had practically adopted you after you gave him your homework answers, and one being an acquaintance from middle school. You didn’t go to Itaewon every weekend, you didn’t make out with random strangers, and you didn’t drink until you couldn’t breathe. Instead, you watched space documentaries in your apartment and ordered delivery for dinner every night.

“I’m just going to ask some personal profile questions to grasp what we might deal with, and then I can refer you some to good help, okay?”

You should’ve seen this coming. It had always been one of your mom’s biggest worries after one of your cousins ended up dropping out of university and becoming an embarrassing recluse, even though he’d been ranked first in his high school class.

There was no way you were going to drop out—you knew that well enough—but even so much as edging towards that fate made you feel like a failure. Sure, you were at Seoul National University, and sure, you essentially had a job waiting for you the moment you graduated, but that didn’t mean you were happy. Not at all.

“Have you met your soulmate?”

This question was unexpected. Your eyes shot up from your lap, your facial expression morphing into one of confusion. “Uh, no. Not yet.”

The doctor scribbled something down on his notepad, which confused you even further. “A lot of kids your age freak out when they meet their soulmate and often cut them off completely. If you ever find yourself doing that, consult a professional, okay?”

You wished you’d heeded his advice a bit more.

DECEMBER 21, EIGHT MONTHS AGO. This year would be the first year you celebrated Christmas without your family, but you weren’t too worried; you had three roommates, your closest friends, to spend it with, and Ryujin’s girlfriend.

December 21st is a day you’d like to remember fondly. You spent the majority of the day shopping, with Jimin blowing through a huge bonus she’d received at her job. You laughed and screwed around, making a mess out of the world around you.

“Jeno is streaming again,” Minjeong had said, looking down at her phone. “Looks like he’s with Jaemin and Donghyuck.”

Jeno was one of Minjeong’s close friends in high school, but they’d fallen out with each other during their first year of university. After that, she’d gone off to eight million fashion internships and he’d started a successful streaming career, and they lost all common ground they had.

Sometime in the past year, though, she’d become fixated on rekindling their friendship, claiming that she missed being his friend more than anything in the world. However, you knew better—you knew why Minjeong wanted him back in her life so bad.

“Holy shit, turn it on,” Jimin said, slapping Minjeong’s shoulder. “Quick! Put it on the TV so we can all watch.”

The 10-hour-long fireplace video they’d been watching suddenly transitioned to a Lee Jeno and Lee Donghyuck wrestling each other for the other’s Wii remote, all while Na Jaemin, SNU’s resident heartthrob and student council secretary, sat on a couch with a stupid smile on his face. Minjeong and Jimin were fascinated with him, as were most people—honestly, you included—you met.

The chat rolled down the right corner screen, calling for either Jeno or Donghyuck to win the fight. A few demanded that Jaemin proceed with the game, leading you to assume the monstrosity of the Mii up to bowl was his.

“What do you think? Should I go? Will Jeno sabotage me like he did Hyuck?” Jaemin asked, standing and approaching the camera. Soon enough, his face was essentially the only thing you could see on the camera feed. He seemed to be staring at the chat, which now was filled with people telling him to move so they could see the fight. “Wow, you guys are mean.”

“Just go!” Zhong Chenle’s voice appeared, although he wasn’t on the screen. You were mesmerized by how quickly the viewers accustomed to new environments presented to them; if you were a frequent stream-viewer, you don’t think you could do the same.

“I’ll demo my bowl, okay? Ready?” Jaemin stepped back from the camera, exaggeratedly swinging his arm back and forth. And then, the storm started.

“Pause it!” Jimin shrieked, leaning over to grab the remote. “Pause it! The mark is on his wrist!”

For some reason, a chill ran down your back, and your stomach began to churn. At that moment, you were perplexed—it was incredibly unreasonable for you to think that Na Jaemin was your soulmate. The wrist was the most common place to have your soulmate mark by far, only followed by your shoulder and the base of your neck; the odds of you two matching up were few and far between.

Still, you couldn't shake the nerves. Minjeong was now less than a foot away from the TV, and, from where they paused the stream, it seemed the chat was also freaking out about the mark. One message stood out to you, and it made your blood run cold.

“It’s pink! Na Jaemin has a pink soulmate mark, are you kidding me?”

Suddenly, you were staring at your wrist. A blue swirl accompanied by short, blue lines jutting out of it—a little doodle of the sun—was on the center of your right wrist, opaque and clear. People had always told you that the mark was perfect, including Ryujin, who confessed how jealous she was of you when you’d first met.

“It’s a little doodle of Saturn,” Jimin finally announced, just as the chat had. Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. This moment was something you’d looked forward to for your whole life, but now that it was finally happening, you felt nauseous.

Looking up, you tried to see around Jimin and Minjeong, who mostly covered the screen. If it was on his right wrist, if he was playing with his right hand, you’d be in the clear.

For a moment, you felt relieved. To you, it looked like it was his right hand, but a few seconds of thinking yielded to you the truth. Your wrist began to tingle.

There was no way. Seriously, there was no way that Na Jaemin—

“You good, [First]?”

The sudden calling of your name made you jump, with your hand flying to cover the mark on your wrist. Ryujin rounded the sofa you sat on, taking refuge next to you. “Oh, yeah, I’m good. Thanks,” you mumbled weakly.

No, you weren’t. That was a lie.

Na Jaemin was your soulmate, and you didn’t want him to be.

JANUARY 29, SIX MONTHS AGO, and Jimin is loudly proclaiming how Minjeong is currently having coffee with Jeno and should be back soon. You both sit at your dining table, along with Ryujin, who seemed to be more entranced in her phone than the conversation.

“If we play our cards right…” Jimin began, though she didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, she started giggling and hitting Ryujin’s shoulder in what seemed to be delight. “Imagine the parties we’ll be invited to and the people who will be at our house! Imagine Huang Renjun on our couch, Ryujinnie!”

“I have a girlfriend,” Ryujin spoke slowly, refusing to drag her eyes away from her phone. “Speaking of, Chaer wants to know if she can borrow those light blue shoes you have, [First].”

Glad the conversation had been derailed, you said, “Of course, I don’t mind at all.” Ryujin nodded slowly, beginning to furiously type what you assumed to be a text to Chaeryeong.

“Okay, back to Jeno and Minjeong. I mean, what if one of them is mine or [First]’s soulmate—” you shuttered, though neither of them noticed— “or something? Zhong Chenle is rich and gorgeous, I’d love to be his soulmate.”

“Aren’t Chenle and you friends?” Ryujin suddenly asked, looking up at you. For a moment, you were confused, but a few memories from your first year came rushing into your head.

“We were for a bit during our first year. After the class we shared ended, we lost touch.” You nodded, twiddling your thumbs. “He was one of my only friends until I met you, Ryujin. Definitely not my soulmate. In the seven months he dragged me everywhere with him, I would’ve found out.”

Jimin gasped, covering her mouth with her hand and staring at you like you’d just killed her mom. “You were friends with Zhong Chenle?”

“Until he was in Lee Jeno’s crowd, yes. I met Ryujin and he met Mark. We stopped talking right around there.”

Before you could process what she was doing, Jimin had reached across your table, snatching the phone up. The action even caused Ryujin to look up from her phone in shock, but she didn’t move to stop Jimin as she made a beeline for the bathroom.

“What the hell?” you exclaimed, getting up to follow after her. You barely took three steps before the bathroom door slammed shut and the sound of the lock clicking into place filled your ears. “Jimin, give me my phone back, please.”

You approached the bathroom door, knocking on it. “Seriously dude. This isn’t funny.”

Jimin was completely silent, to the point where it was debatable whether or not she was even in there. Ryujin had gotten up and was standing a little behind you, staring at the door as well. Quicker than you would’ve imagined, the lock clicked once again, and the door opened slowly.

Jimin stood with her arm stretched out, your phone in hand. There was a smug look on her face that made you feel a bit nervous, reasonably enough, and you didn’t really want to take your phone back.

“What’d you do?” Ryujin asked, snatching the phone up for you. She scanned the screen, frowning the moment she did. “Jimin, come on. You know—”

“They were friends, right?” she asked, shrugging. “Shouldn’t be an issue.”

Tired of not having your phone, you took it back, finally able to look at what you were dealing with.

Jimin had dug up Chenle’s contact, and sent him a simple message: hey, want to meet up?

And, Chenle, being the fast responder he was, had already begun typing.

FEBRUARY 03, SEVEN MONTHS AGO. You sit in Zhong Chenle’s apartment, owned and paid for by his parents, in the center of Seoul. The thing is huge—bigger than your apartment, which is shared by four different people.

As far as you were aware, Chenle was the only person living in the house now, but it was possible his mom and aunt still visited frequently. When you’d been friends, his mom had been pretty adverse to you, so you were glad she wasn’t there anymore.

Chenle had asked you to watch Daegal while he went to go get both of you dinner, which he insisted was “his treat.” He seemed so excited to finally be talking with you again, which just made you feel terrible that Jimin had to force you into going.

When you arrived at his apartment, he’d given you a bone-crushing hug, accompanied by one of the kindest smiles you’d seen in a while. After that, you spent an hour sitting on his couch, getting acquainted with his new dog and talking about all you’d been doing. To no surprise, Chenle was changing the world and trying everything under the sun, while you were sitting alone in dark rooms and staring through telescopes.

Happily, you scratched behind Daegal’s ear, enjoying the attention you were getting from the dog. You wish you would’ve heard the faint sound of the front door unlocking, but the layout of Chenle’s apartment was unreasonable and blocked any noise coming from that far. You wished you would’ve heard footsteps, or been able to hear an unwelcome guest calling out for the owner of the apartment.

“Oh, hello.”

The voice was familiar, it was dangerous. You gasped, head snapping to the side at the sudden surprise. Daegal seemed overjoyed to see the visitor, leaping off the couch and running towards him. Daegal’s distraction gave you just enough time to yank your sleeve down before he fully entered the room.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Na Jaemin asked, bending down to pet the dog. He glanced up at you—Minjeong would be crying if she was you right now—and offered a cordial smile.

“Not at all,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to try to get rid of the violent discomfort you felt. “I was good friends with Chenle during our first year, so we’re just catching up…”

“Oh.” Jaemin seemed to be thinking as he scooped up Daegal and went to sit on the seat across from you. “[First], then? Chenle talks about you a lot.”

For Chenle’s sake, you were just going to ignore that he said that and focus on the issue at hand. He didn’t seem to be acting odd, as if he felt any sort of “connection” like your mom insisted would happen. In fact, he was so nonchalant that, if you weren’t painfully aware of your connection, you might’ve felt calm too.

“That would be me, yes.”

The moment Jaemin sat, Daegal leaped off his lap, sprinting out of the room. You wished, so terribly, that the dog would’ve stayed.

“I’m Na Jaemin,” he introduced himself, though you were sure it was only out of formality. Apparently, all your luck had run out, because Jaemin extended his left arm out, intending for you to shake it. Clearly visible was that little, pink Saturn on his wrist, which he felt absolutely no shame in displaying.

You tried your best to ignore it, keeping your right arm completely obscured and shaking his hand like normal. “It’s nice to meet you, Jaemin. Thanks for all you do for the school, it’s very admirable.”

MARCH 12, SIX MONTHS AGO, and Zhong Chenle is suddenly back in your life. Minjeong has been seeing Jeno frequently, and now, your reclusive, little friend group is suddenly in the spotlight. Jimin gained a good hundred followers on Instagram since people saw her and Lee Donghyuck together, and, all of a sudden, Minjeong and Jimin are the it-girls of the school. Just like how Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin are the it-boys.

It was obvious how much both you and Ryujin detested the sudden attention. To both of you, it felt like your whole life was suddenly on display thanks to your two other roommates. Now, they were interested in throwing parties and drinking until they dropped—which, to be fair, you both didn’t care about the getting drunk and partying part—but you and Ryujin wanted to keep your home quiet and unsuspecting.

“Okay, so, we throw the party. Let our neighbors know, ‘hey, this is happening.’ [First] and I go to Chaeryeong and Chaeyeon’s apartment for the night. Then, two drunk idiots wander into my bedroom and have sex on my bed. A couple others throw up all over [First]’s. What then?” Ryujin asked, taking an angry bite of her tteokbokki. “Party all you want, okay, but you are not going to throw a party here.”

You sat quietly at the edge of the dinner table, watching the three of them go back and forth with no end in sight. You hadn’t offered any sort of input, but you were on Ryujin’s side…you didn’t want your home to get trashed, and you didn’t want noise complaints or police there, either.

“I just don’t see why not. You pay the least amount of rent, Ryujin, so why should you get to choose?” Jimin shot back, crossing her arms.

“And you know who pays the most?” Ryujin asked, her arm jutting out across the table. “[First] pays over half. Ask her.”

You cringed at that. You were thankful for your very, very nicely paying internship, but you rather wouldn’t make a decision that was causing your only friends to argue tooth and nail. Suddenly, all eyes were on you, and you could only trace lines on the table.

“Um, can’t you just…go to a club or something? I’d rather not destroy the house…we rent it, so it’s fees upon fees out of our pockets…”

Minjeong sighed, resting her head on her hands. “[First] has a point. I don’t want that hag to scream at us like she did when we took a chunk out of the wall. Let’s just go to a club. Or we can coerce Jeno into throwing a party. His and Jaemin’s apartment is nice.”

Silence took over. Jimin, obviously upset, stood up and stormed off, leaving the three of you alone. Minjeong seemed to feel some sort of guilt, but she didn’t move to follow Jimin. The house went quiet again, and you wondered if something bad was starting up.

APRIL 14, FIVE MONTHS AGO, and things are starting to go very wrong. Chaeryeong, Ryujin’s girlfriend, met her soulmate, and now they’re trying to figure out if they should break up or not. Ryujin, who doesn’t have a soulmate mark, hadn’t left her room for two days, only taking water bottles and meals you, Jimin, and Minjeong were leaving outside her room.

Now, you were birthday present shopping with Minjeong and Chenle, and Jaemin was supposedly going to show up soon. You sat at a booth in some random restaurant, tucked into the back corner, watching Minjeong bicker with Chenle about whether or not Jaemin would want one of Chenle’s “stupid” (in Minjeong’s terms) friendship bracelets.

You had your left hand practically wired to your wrist, and your stomach felt like it was eating itself. You’d done a fantastic job at avoiding any event Jaemin went to, and none of your friends had noticed it yet. Not even Chenle, who seemed to know just about all of your mannerisms (he’d learned them well back during your first year).

“I think he’s gonna like it,” you decided to input, smiling at Minjeong across the table. She shook her head jokingly, sizing you up at the same time. Chenle laughed to your left, reaching into his pocket and fishing around for a sec.

“You’re in luck, Minjeong, because…” he said, yanking a small, silver chain out of his pocket. “I made one for you too!”

Happily, Chenle slid out of the booth and slid onto Minjeong’s side, grabbing her wrist. She bitterly let him put it on, although it seemed like he was struggling. You smiled as they laughed with one another, happy that your friends were getting along.

“Sorry I’m late—” It was crazy how easily anxiety triumphed over joy— “the pharmacy took a million years. But, I’m here now!”

Jaemin, unaware that Chenle was originally next to you, sat down beside you. His arm pressed against yours, and you swear you felt lightheaded, but you chose to ignore it. Chenle didn’t seem too bothered and decided to stay where he was.

Minjeong seemed to notice your sudden stress, giving you a weird look. You shook your head, smiling weakly, but she didn’t seem to trust you too much. “How are you, [First]? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

You looked to your side, laughing awkwardly. “I’ve been okay. Staying up late and getting up early, all the same routine,” you explained, trying your best not to panic even though he looked into your eyes so intently.

“That’s good, that’s good.”

As Jaemin took his coat off, he once again let his mark show, and you (once again) did your very best to not focus on it.

“And how are you, Minjeong?”

Deeming your short conversation to be over, you turned your head to the side, looking out the window. Clouds bunched up in the sky, maintaining a dark gray color that made you think it was going to start storming soon.

Letting your guard down, you unwrapped your hand from your wrist, simply making sure that your sleeve kept it covered and you didn’t use your right hand much (despite the fact you were right-handed).

“I feel like I don’t know much about you, but everyone always talks about you, [First],” Jaemin suddenly mused. Keeping yourself calm and collected, you turned in his direction, shrugging a bit.

“I’m not the most social person, I guess.”

“I think I’ll ask you a question every time I see you,” he declared, turning his attention to both Chenle and Minjeong. “What’s a good question to ask?”

Both of them seemed caught off guard, looking at each other in slight shock. “Um,” Chenle started, pausing to see if Minjeong would speak. “You could ask about her major?”

Jaemin looked back at you, waiting for your response. Knowing this was something you couldn’t lie about, you swallowed your discontent, ready to accept your new, question-answering fate.

“Astrophysics. With a minor in classical music.”

LATER THAT NIGHT, you and the rest of your roommates sit in the living room, watching one of the ridiculous reality shows Jimin ate up. Ryujin had even come out of her room to partake in the fun, but her eyes were still red, and her face was still cemented into a frown.

It was late into the night now, and Minjeong and Jimin were practically asleep on each other, struggling to stay awake for the remainder of the episode. Given the nature of your internship, you were used to staying up too late, so you weren’t tired at all. It didn’t seem like Ryujin was either, and, if you had to guess, it was because she’d probably slept the day away.

“Why don’t you guys just go to bed?” Ryujin asked, hugging one of the throw pillows to her chest. “You look like you barely know what’s happening.”

“We have to know who gets eliminated,” Minjeong slurred, followed by a huge yawn. “Before we go to bed.”

“Man, I don’t agree,” Jimin huffed, snatching the remote up from the coffee table. She paused the show, exiting back out onto the Netflix home screen. “I’m going to bed. I have an 8 am tomorrow.”

“Come on, Jiminie! This is your thing, isn’t it?”

“I don’t care.” Jimin stood, stretching her arms out and groaning. “Night.”

Minjeong mumbled a string of incoherencies before she stood and trudged behind Jimin, disappearing from the living room. Not ready to go to bed, you leaned forward and grabbed the remote, beginning to scroll through the documentaries Netflix had to offer.

Ryujin seemed a bit uncomfortable, but you didn’t feel the need to inquire. Even when she began staring at you, you just kept scrolling, reading descriptions and skipping over ones that seemed boring.

“I just don’t get it,” Ryujin hesitated, her voice sounding uneven and shaky. You assumed she was going to start talking about Chaeryeong, and how she had more to offer than her soulmate ever did. “Help me understand, [First]. Seriously.”

“Understand what?”

“Why won't you tell him?”

Your whole body froze. Suddenly, the remote felt like a block of iron, and your whole body felt like a brittle table about to break. At that moment, your mind was completely blank. It felt like you were mentally resetting, desperately searching for an answer to give.

Instead of being reasonable, you immediately jumped to defend yourself. “You wouldn’t get it,” you said, returning to scroll through the documentaries. You couldn’t ignore how your heart was pounding, how your chest felt tight, or how you felt like crying now as well.

“No, no, I think I do. Are you going to ruin one of his relationships too? When you decide you feel ready enough to break the news?”

“This is none of your business, Ryujin. Drop it.”

“It is every bit of my business,” she shot back, taking the remote from your hands. You snapped your head towards her, your face twisting into one of bitterness. “You blow off Minjeong and Jimin all the time because of him, even though he is literally your universal match. You spend hours painting foundation on your wrist just for it to be unrecoverable for god knows what reason. You wear long sleeves no matter how hot it is, or you put a bandaid over it. What about Na Jaemin is so bad that you, notoriously lazy, can barely comprehend confessing to him?”

“I’m telling you, you won’t get it, so just drop it. This has nothing to do with what happened between you and Chaeryeong, and it isn’t the least bit similar, because Jaemin will never know it’s me. Okay?”

“One slip up and he’ll see it. He’ll know you’ve been lying, because I’ve been to a few hangouts, and he doesn’t try to cover it at all. He’ll know you’ve known, and he won’t understand why you didn’t tell him, and all you’ll have done was hurt him. How could you do that, [First]? How could you?”

“Do you know what it’s like, Ryujin?” you asked, finally letting loose on your emotions. “To be afraid of the person the world has paired you up with? To think they’d be disappointed in you? Not to mention I’d be widely hated for something I can’t control—for god’s sake, when it got out that Jeno had found his soulmate, somebody sent her a dead bird in the mail. Do you think I want that?”

“Yeah, but Jaemin isn’t an internet celebrity with a bunch of psychopath fans,” Ryujin argued back. “Stop being such a bitch and tell him. Or I will.”

“If you tell him anything, Shin Ryujin, I will kick you out of this house and never speak to you again. Do you hear me?”

Tears began spilling from Ryujin’s eyes now, likely from the residual sorrow of Chaeryeong finding her soulmate. “If you ruin somebody’s life like somebody ruined mine, I will never, ever forgive you.”

“I’m not looking for your forgiveness, Ryujin. I am telling you that my situation is different from yours, so you should keep yourself up and out of it. I’m just not meant for the world’s formula, okay? You are, even if you don’t have a soulmate mark. So is Chaeryeong. You will find happiness, but your happiness does not hinge on my decisions,” you rationalized, sitting back on the couch. Ryujin stood up slowly, pausing for a moment in front of the couch.

“My point still stands. If you don’t tell him, I will. Even if you kick me out and never speak to me again.”

You didn’t take Ryujin’s warning seriously.

APRIL 23, FIVE MONTHS AGO, and you’re hiding. The past hour or so has essentially torn down your entire life as you know it, and now, you’re not sure what to do. So, you hide, as you have since you were a kid, as you have since you walked into the psychiatrist’s office three years ago.

It began fine. Jeno’s birthday dinner was something you and your friends had been looking forward to since the end of March (mostly because Jeno would be paying for the dinner and you’d be simply attending). Chenle had let you tack your name onto his card, as you didn’t know Jeno very well, so you’d seriously paid nothing for this.

By now, you and Ryujin had made up and were sitting next to each other near the end of the table. You didn’t know many people here, so Chenle had been nice enough to sit himself and Renjun across from you both. You were having a good time, save for when you had to avoid the pointing glare of Jeno’s camera (he announced to everyone that his fanbase had been pretty ardently asking for a birthday vlog, and to just move out of frame every time he brought the camera out).

It was a nice dinner, seriously. The food was good and the atmosphere was nice and homey, and Jaemin was all the way across the table from you. It wasn’t stressful for you at all.

You did, however, notice the girl who’d been staring at your table pretty intensely. She and her friends were having hushed conversations, throwing glances at Jeno’s side of the table and pointing ever so often. You pointed it out to Chenle, who brushed it off saying “that’s what usually happens.”

Then she got up. Then her friends pushed her toward the table. Then, she was tapping Jaemin on the shoulder, twiddling her thumbs, and the table had gone silent.

“Um, I think…I think you’re my soulmate?” she said, and your heart dropped. Ryujin tensed up visibly next to you, watching Jaemin jump up from his seat in shock. Jeno had already gotten the camera out, quietly recording the girl showing a little, green Earth on her right wrist.

Jaemin seemed a little shocked, taking her wrist to stare at it. And, as a smile began to form on his face, Ryujin grabbed your wrist and wrenched you both out of your chairs. You looked at her with a face of shock, a face of betrayal, as she began to speak.

“No, you are not,” Ryujin exclaimed. Jeno kept recording, although now he seemed surprised. Minjeong and Jimin stared at you both in shock and half-embarrassment, with Jimin already about to stand and tell Ryujin to shut up.

Meanwhile, the girl looked like a deer in headlights, and her friends had their hands over their mouths. You wanted to run, apologize and say Ryujin was drunk, but you could barely move from your spot. Your hands began to shake, and your breathing began to grow unsteady.

“Excuse me?” Jaemin finally spoke, looking shocked as well.

“[First] is.” Ryujin held up your wrist, yanking your sleeve down to reveal the small, doodled sun on your wrist. Something flashed across Jaemin’s face, likely the recognition your mother had told you about as a child, and that is when you regained yourself.

You wrenched your wrist from Ryujin’s grasp, not waiting another second for anything else to happen. Instead, you yanked your purse from the edge of your seat and nearly ran out of the restaurant, not paying any mind to the calling of your name, or Jimin and Minjeong’s hurt faces.

You were running. Where you were running to, you were unsure, but you were running.

You left your phone on the table.

APRIL 25, FIVE MONTHS AGO, and you’ve been off the grid for two days. Nobody could contact you due to your lack-of-phone, which was nice, yet stressful at the same time. You haven’t gone to any of your classes, but you at least managed to find housing and grab your computer from your apartment. In your panic, you’d shown up at your old friend’s apartment—your old middle school acquaintance—and asked for refuge.

Luckily, he had agreed, pretty quickly in fact. And, being the person who forced you into your first psychiatrist appointment, listened to your predicament and semi-sided with you, which made you relieved.

Minjeong had figured out pretty quickly that you were staying with Sungchan, but she didn’t know his address, and only knew his phone number. He’d answered about three of her calls, telling her to screw off and to let you recover from the panic you felt nearly every second of the day.

“While I agree it was selfish to decide you were never going to tell him,” he would tell you, over dinner or while you grocery shopped, “it wasn’t nice for Ryujin to out your secret before you were ready.”

Sungchan was kind to you, as he always had been, having no issue allowing you to reset and rewind. You could stay for as long as you liked, and you could return to the real world whenever you were ready.

APRIL 26, FIVE MONTHS AGO. Na Jaemin isn’t sure what he’s done wrong, nor does he know how to fix it. Minjeong swears she has it under control, swears she knows where you are and what you’re doing, but Chenle hasn’t looked more stressed in his life, and Jeno said you haven’t shown up to classes since his birthday.

Jaemin was confused. He felt impulsive and angry, angry at you, angry at Ryujin, angry at everyone. He’s spent every waking moment rethinking every one of your interactions, the last moments he saw you, wondering what exactly happened.

He’d talked to all of your friends, but only Ryujin seemed to have a clue. When they talked, she revealed when you’d figured it out, stating that “Minjeong and Jimin were watching one of Jeno’s streams on the TV and paused when your mark was visible, and that’s when she’d realized.”

Not once in his life did Jaemin think his soulmate would reject him. He’s been popular his whole life, and he’s always done his best to put himself out there. He’s been on SNU’s student council since his freshman year, and he’s done copious amounts of volunteer work with Jeno. Did you somehow think he was a bad person? That he’d hurt you?

Whatever was going on, he just didn’t understand it. But, without you around, he couldn’t ask, and, at this point, he didn’t think he was ever going to know.

APRIL 27, FOUR MONTHS AGO, and Jaemin’s just received a text that you’ve come home. It was from Jimin, and it was short—we set an ultimatum and she came back, we are talking it out now, will call you later—but it was enough.

Jeno seemed to believe you were some kind of awful person for what you did, but Jaemin knew you weren’t. Even now, as Jeno listed out all the times you’d met and never said anything, he knew you weren’t.

“We don’t know the whole story,” Jaemin insisted, bouncing his leg up and down. “I mean, would Jimin go through these lengths for anybody? She wouldn’t.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that she lied.”

“She didn’t lie, though.” Jaemin stole a glance at his phone, but the only new notification was one from Amazon, saying his package shipped. “We just don’t know enough, Jeno. We just don’t know.”

Jeno kept quiet after that, picking up his phone and beginning to scroll through god knows what. Jaemin kept staring at his phone, waiting for anything from Jimin, whether it be a “we came to a conclusion” or “things aren’t looking good” text.

APRIL 28, FOUR MONTHS AGO. Jimin sits in front of Jaemin at a café next to his house, and it’s very awkward. Jimin seems to not know what to say as she sits there, twiddling her thumbs and staring at her hands.

“She just wasn’t ready,” Jimin finally spoke, sighing. She seemed to almost deflate in her seat, as if the fact was some big secret. “If you aren’t already aware, she’s not the most…social person, right? And the whole soulmate thing is a big commitment. And, from a social standpoint, you are really, really scary.”

Jaemin frowned, lacing his fingers around his coffee mug. “And then, of course, Ryujin was going through a bad breakup because her girlfriend found her soulmate, and she was upset that [First] had something she didn’t. Right? She just malfunctioned. Think of it as a breakdown, or something, but it freaked her out,” Jimin finished, biting the inside of her cheek. Jaemin pondered for a second, wondering what might be the best course of action.

“So is she going to meet with me, or?”

“She agreed to meet with you next week. That’s about as much as we could drag out of her.”

Just a bit longer, Jaemin thought, before I can figure things out for myself. Before I can fix things.

MAY 03, FOUR MONTHS AGO. You sit at a table in the back corner of a convenience store, slurping up a big vat of instant ramen you’d purchased. At the same time, you feel like throwing up from how nervous you were, but that didn’t matter as much as how good the ramen you were eating.

The past few weeks of your life had been awful. From nearly unfriending Ryujin to Chenle uncomfortably hinting that Lee Jeno, who had over a million subscribers on YouTube and many loyal fans, hated you, everything was completely terrible.

Not to mention the sudden week you’d taken off from your internship or the number of classes you’d missed from the breakdown. If Sungchan hadn’t been taking most of the same classes as you, thanks to your shared major, you might’ve died.

On top of that, Na Jaemin was late to your meet-up, even though Jimin insisted he was the one who wanted it. You’d been sitting here for nearly twenty minutes, nervously eating and checking your phone every three seconds.

If this had been any other sort of meet-up, you’d have just left, but the angel on your shoulder insisted he wouldn’t stand you up for this kind of meeting, right?

And you would be right. Jaemin burst into the convenience store, drawing the eyes of nearly everyone inside (an old woman waiting out the rain and the teenage cashier). You felt embarrassed for yourself and him, but you kept your eyes on your food.

“Sorry I’m late,” Jaemin panted, sitting down across from you. He was dripping wet, but his hair had been kept perfectly intact thanks to his hood (which he wrenched off the moment he got inside). “Jeno found out his soulmate was lying. Found another mark on her back.”

The news caused you to choke on your ramen, and for you to drop the chopsticks into the bowl. You went to cover your mouth, swallowing the rest as fast as you could. “Wow, are you okay? Sorry, didn’t think it would be that shocking.”

“Hasn’t—” you coughed again— “hasn’t it been, like, a year? She’s managed to lie for that long?”

“Completely. To be honest, I had my suspicions, but I never said anything. Good news is, he doesn’t hate you anymore!” Jaemin smiled, giving you jazz hands. “Yay! Celebration! He agrees that lying about it is worse than hiding it!”

You frowned at him, picking your chopsticks back up. “Woohoo, because that’s what I was worried about.”

You took another bite of your food, and silence came between you. Uncomfortably, Jaemin cleared his throat. “Uh, can I see it?”

Sighing, you dropped your chopsticks for the second time, lifting your shirt sleeve up. You laid out your wrist onto the table, allowing for Jaemin to see the little sun on your wrist. Gently, he slid his hand under your own, brushing over the mark with his thumb. The little, blue sun tingled at the touch, and it made you feel giddier than you would’ve liked to.

Jaemin lifted his left arm, putting it next to yours. Sure enough, the Saturn and the sun lined up perfectly, and the style of the doodles matched perfectly.

“I figured it out a while ago,” you said after you’d swallowed, staring at your wrists side-by-side. “I’m Saturn, you’re the sun. I orbit around you, from far away.”

“Is that so?” Jaemin asked, letting go of your wrist. You pulled your arm back and placed it on your lap, chewing at your lip. “I’d rather you orbited close by me.”

You nearly cringed at that, feeling your ears burn at the sentiment. “Yeah, well.”

“So,” Jaemin paused for a second, sniffling. “How…can we do this? In a way that makes you comfortable. I can tell you don’t want to escalate quickly, not like Jeno and…yeah. No escalating.”

“Well, my mom will want to meet you. I don’t think my dad would care,” you mumbled. “But I want to, like, know you before you meet my mom.”

“So how do you want to get to know me?”

“Let’s just…um, go with the flow? I guess, yeah. We can be, like, friends. For now.”

You could tell that Jaemin didn’t like the title of “friend,” but that didn’t matter to you much. This was for you, and, no matter how fast he wanted to go, your consent mattered more.

Despite his displeasure, Jaemin smiled, nodding his head. “Okay, friends. I’m okay with that. For now.”

AUGUST 28, RIGHT NOW. You and Jaemin sit in the car outside your mom’s house, going over all the things he needs to know to make a good impression on your mom. He already attempted to wear a suit to your very casual family dinner, which you quickly explained wouldn’t help your case.

“When Jeno met his ex’s parents it was a train wreck,” Jaemin regurgitated, going a bit pale in the face. “He came home and looked dead. Like he was going to pass out. I don’t want that to happen.”

“My mom will just be happy you’re attractive, all right? You don’t need to be scared of her. My dad is awful, so he won’t care and will just ask about your job plans. Your answer will be—”

“Right, surgeon, I know. Student council president. Whatever. I don’t care about your dad, either, just your mom.”

“Jesus, that’s the first time anyone’s ever said that.”

You shifted your body fully to the left, facing Jaemin completely. You raised your hands and placed them on both sides of his face, leaning in very closely. “My mom is very nice. She will not care about what you do or say, as long as you are attractive and will give her—”

Suddenly, you paused, not wanting to finish your sentence. Jaemin’s lips twisted into a sinister smile. “Will what, huh? My attractive face will give her what?”

“Shut up.”

“Anything for you,” he said, leaning in and pecking you on the lips. “I think we are good to go, yeah? Since I just need to be attractive. And a doctor.”

“For sure,” you grumbled, pushing the car door open and stepping out. “Let’s just go.”

Jaemin smiled to himself, turning the car off. “Anything for you.”

thank you for reading!

#cinna.nct #na jaemin x reader #jaemin x reader #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #jaemin one shot #jaemin imagines #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream scenarios #nct dream soulmate au #soulmate au #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct dream imagines #jaemin scenarios

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wardenparker · 1 year

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Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 6

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: M for Mature. But as always this blog is 18+! Word Count: 9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* This is just one big ol’ chapter full of various kinds of angst. Wholesome points for Bobby Rogers being a very good kid. Summary: As the gap widens between you and Jack, Diana’s loyalty shifts toward your budding friendship. Notes: Tensions are rising as spring gets closer and Diana is stirring the pot 😂 I just adore her. This chapter is a great little glimpse into the Rogers family and how they weave their way around the relationship between you and Jack.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Jack can’t explain it, but he’s listless after the conversation with you. Wandering slightly as he leaves your porch and shoving his hands in his pockets as his boots slap along the gravel pathway towards the small pond on the property. Wondering why he feels like he’s done something wrong. The way that you had looked at him with your heart in your eyes and then watching it seemingly break rubbed him the wrong way. Tex had slept with you. He doesn’t understand why it sticks in his craw but it does. He wants you, physically, but he won’t touch you because of the damn ink on his skin, the invisible threads that seem to tie you together. But he shouldn’t care that Tex had spent the night in your bed. However, he can’t get the image out of his head and he doesn’t like it. Not at all. Sighing to himself, he shakes his head. Scoffing quietly at his ridiculousness. “Damn fool.” He huffs, looking out over the water.

The small pond reflects nothing but serene moonlight back at him, the young folks out walking through the green of the neighborhood or sitting in the gazebo too far from its surface to interrupt his ruminations. A few blocks away, Tex is drinking off his frustration while he packs, loud music enough to have his bookshelves vibrating but not a hint of it leaking out into the street. On the street, everything is peaceful and perfect. It’s the picture of serenity and always is - Statesman arguments happen behind closed doors because your neighbors might not have high enough clearance to be able to overhear whatever a fight is about.

Jack sighs, pulling a hand out of his pocket to drag it down the front of his face. This had been a place he loved coming, reminding him of the pond back home. The one that Abigail had loved to sit next to and watch the sun set. Now he just feels like there’s a weight on his chest, on his heart.

“Okay, Uncle Jack?” The cheery voice of Bobby Rogers is unexpected, but Champ’s son - Agent Rum - is all smiles when he waves at his father’s best friend. The junior agent’s evening walk is easily interrupted, and he strides over to the bench that Jack has sunken down on.

“Hey kid.” Despite the fact the boy is an agent and old enough to drink, he’s always called Bobby ‘kid’. A running joke because it had made the youngster laugh when he had met him. Old enough that he didn’t think about his son every time he looked at him. “I’m okay. How are you?” He asks, raising a brow in concern. He’d read the after action report from Prague.

“Just had dinner with Ginger and Gabi and the kids.” Bobby sits himself down next to Jack and leans back, surveying the older man with the same appraising expression as his mother uses, except Bobby shrugs amiably. “Itchin’ to get back out there but there’s no assignment for me right now. You know how it is.”

“Yeah.” Jack huffs under his breath, very aware of being on desk duty. He tries to avoid turning towards the boy, aware that he’s as perceptive as his mother.

“Maybe there will be something for both of us?” He suggests optimistically, having wanted to run a mission with Jack ever since his promotion to active agent status.

Jack can grin at that, a smug little smirk that is fully aware of his own strengths as an agent. “That would be fun.” He acknowledges with a nod. “Maybe Champ’ll send us out together.”

“Maybe if you said something?” It’s no secret that Bobby looks up to Jack. He always has, ever since he was small, and even now there’s a remnant of something childlike in his excited expression. “I know you usually work missions with Tequila if you do doubles but I know we could be a hell of a team.”

“Yeah.” Jack nods, although he knows he will be shot down. “I’ll say somethin’ for sure, kid.” He turns towards him now. “It’ll be good to run a mission together.”

“You comin’ over for dinner this week?” With Jack’s agreement to the idea, Bobby is beaming. “I swear I don’t mind still living so close as long as Mom keeps making meatloaf every Wednesday night like clockwork.”

Jack chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Have I ever missed a meatloaf Wednesday unless I was out of town?” He asks, leaning over and shoving at the boy’s shoulder with his own. He can’t help but wonder how you make meatloaf.

“Never.” The young man acknowledges with a snort. “Can’t exactly find meatloaf in Prague. Gotta admit that I missed it.”

“Nothin’s ever better than homemade by momma.” Jack acknowledges honestly.

“It’s true.” The smile that plays on Bobby’s lips is wistful. “God I hope I get a soulmate that can cook,” he laughs. “If she’s as hopeless as I am we’ll be eatin’ at my parents’ table or in the Statesman cafeteria our whole lives.”

The blood in Jack’s veins freezes from the kid’s innocent statement. “H-here’s hopin’.” He manages and quickly glances back at the water.

Bobby might be young, but he’s a trained Statesman agent the same as Jack and he knows his uncle is acting jumpy. Instead of needing an answer like his father might do, though, he nods and decides to give Jack some peace. “I’m gonna walk on,” he decides, Stretching his long limbs before pushing up to standing again. “Got a good book calling my name. I’ll see ya ‘round, Uncle Jack.”

“See ya, kid.” Jack nods and watches the boy as he ambles away like he hasn’t a care in the world. It makes Jack sigh heavily and he closes his eyes, thinking about Abigail. “Darlin’” he murmurs softly. “I’m doin’ what I think right, so why does it hurt?” He asks his long dead wife, wishing she could answer him.

******

It feels like you cried all night after Jack left, and for the better part of your private time for the next few days. At work you’re numb, going through the recipes that you chose with tender loving care, feeling like more machine than person. The aching in your heart just hasn’t abated, and every day you step out your front door halfway between Tex and Jack’s houses, you almost wonder who you miss more. Except that, as guilty as you feel about it, you know the answer. Today feels like a day that you just can’t get anything right, as every batch of cornbread you make seems to lack flavor, or texture, or not rise enough. You swear you might scream if another pan comes out looking deflated and overly dry - but that might also be the fact that it’s nearly two in the afternoon and you haven’t eaten yet. Matter of fact, when was the last time you ate?

Diana pushes into the main dining room, frowning slightly as she does. Something is off and after pulling the truth out of Champ over breakfast, she decided that visiting you was what she needed to do. “Darling? Are you in the kitchen?” She calls out.

Oh god… The sound of Diana’s voice is usually welcome, but you’re just not up to having company. It’s not exactly a question you can dodge, though, is it? She’ll find you here whether you like it or not. “I’m back here!” You call finally, figuring she’s already heard your music playing. The speakers are always attached to whatever is playing on your phone, which you now turn the volume way down on.

“Am I interrupting you?” Concern laces her features as she pushes one of the double doors open and peers into your kitchen. It’s surprisingly empty, although with what’s been going on, she can’t blame you. “If you aren’t up for company, you let me know.”

"No, it's okay." After having barely spoken to anyone for a few days, you clear your throat and try to smile. "Come on in. I could use a break from all this cornbread." The pans sitting all around you are practically mocking you and you would be very glad to ignore them for a while.

You look devastated. Diana sighs to herself and reaches out to pull you into a brief but fierce hug. Wishing that she could wipe away the hurt and sadness. Damn Jack.

"What was that for?" You ask when she leans back to look at you. Just because you haven't said a word to her doesn't mean that she doesn't know what happened, although you would hope that Jack had enough discretion to not just go blabbing it to everyone. Who knows?

“Mother’s instinct.” She hums. “You look like you need a hug. So I gave you one.” She won’t tell you that Champ told her the situation, but she’ll listen if you need to talk.

"I was about to make myself some lunch." Wiping your hands on your apron gives you a moment to compose yourself so you don't just break down on the spot. You did need that hug. "Is it too late in the day for you to join me?"

“I’ve been running around with a tour group of two hundred.” Her eyes widen dramatically and she huffs. “Some corporate retreat and ‘team building’ thing so I’ve not had a chance to hear myself think.”

"So that's a yes?" Since cooking for people is the one thing that seems to relieve stress, it actually makes your shoulders drop a little and sloughs some tension away. "I have more cornbread than we can shake a stick at to go with it."

“Ohhh are you making cornbread fritters?” Diana asks ask she looks at the fallen pans of cornbread.

"I can if you like." It would certainly use up some of this failed baking. "How about I make us a big chop salad and we can have a basket of cornbread fritters to go along with it?"

“Do you want some help or do you want me to be your sounding board while you cook?” Diana asks, tilting her head at you, curious to see what you will decide.

“Why don’t you join me?” It’s not just anyone that you would invite into your kitchen, but you’ve become fairly attached to the older woman in just the few weeks you’ve been here. She is usually an endless source of positivity and support - two things you could really use right now even if you hate the reason why.

“Absolutely, chef.” She tosses you a grin and immediately marches over to your industrial sized sinks to wash her hands. “Put me to work.”

Everything you’ll need to road test the upscale Cobb salad for your menu is already in the fridge, so you set Diana up with a cutting board, knife, and a bowl to deposit everything into and set to work turning one skillet’s worth of cornbread into fritter mix - with some cheddar cheese added for good measure. There are a few slices of bourbon maple glazed bacon that you’ve been experimenting with that you’ll chop up as well - the perfect topping for the salad after it’s been dressed. “So a corporate tour?” You ask, trying to remind yourself to be social as the two of you start working side by side. “That sounds…sort of excruciating, honestly. Two hundred is a huge group.”

“They were more interested in tasting than the actual tour.” Diana tells you as she starts to chop the ingredients. Looking down at the cutting board and smirking to herself at how sharp your knife is. A good, proper blade.

“If I worked for a corporation doing mandatory retreats, I would be too.” It’s the closest you’ve been to laughing in days, the little huff you give as you shake your head.

“There’s some truth to that.” Diana laughs as she acknowledges it. “Although I guess it’s a good thing that the restaurant isn’t open yet or all of them would have been in here.”

“That’s fine. Customers I can handle.” Working the cornbread mixture with your hands is actually kind of cathartic. Imagining it’s the knots in your heart instead of food. “They’re particular, but in a way I can handle. I wouldn’t even know how to keep them all engaged on a tour.”

“Practice.” Diana muses, sneaking a glance over at you. “Much like wrangling cowboy soulmates.”

You sigh, a little too deeply, and turn to look at her with anxiety written all over your face. “How long have you known?”

“The tattoo?” She doesn’t suppose that you are talking about the situation you find yourself in now, but she just wants to clarify. “From the beginning.” She admits quietly. “Champ doesn’t keep much but classified information from me. And this…well, Jack is family.”

“So…” If your hands weren’t covered in edible sludge, you would be leaning on the counter while you try to collect yourself. As it is, all you can do is stare at Diana. “When was anybody going to tell me?”

“If I had my way, I would have slapped Jack upside his damned fool head.” Diana huffs, holding your gaze steadily. “But…Champ said that it was Jack’s place to figure out that he’s been given a second chance.”

That twists the knife in your heart, and you look down at your hands to avoid tearing up if you keep looking at the woman beside you. Diana is so full of empathy that it seems to just deep out of her. “Jack doesn’t want a second chance.” You murmur, head bowed like somehow it’s your fault.

“Damn jackass doesn’t know what he wants.” Diana hisses, her chopping becoming slightly less perfect through her anger. “And he likes you, so you terrify him.”

“He doesn’t like me as much as you think he does.” If he did, he wouldn’t have shattered any hope you had of something happening between the two of you somewhere down the line. “He made it abundantly clear last night that he doesn’t want another soulmate.”

“Stubborn fucking mule.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disappointment. She knows that Jack likes you more than he’s willing to admit, but the damn fool can’t get past his grief.

“He seems to know his mind well enough.” If you mix this damn batter anymore it is just going to be goo, so you stop - pulling your hands away and wiping them reasonably clean so you can wash up and start portioning out the mix. “Second time I’ve lost a chance at having a soul mate in just a couple of weeks and I didn’t get a say in it either time.”

“So he told you….” Diana is shocked at that, the knife turning to the side and she looks at you in shock.

“Not in a great amount of detail.” You shrug, feeling her eyes on you as you scrub your hands clean. “But yeah. He told me. A-about Statesman being…spies. About…” Sighing makes your whole body shake. “About how he…killed my soulmate. And then inherited me.”

Diana’s face screws up in anger, promising herself she’s gonna kick Jack’s ass from here to New York and back. “Jack has killed men before and never inherited their soulmates.” She spits. “So he’s full of shit. The universe doesn’t just randomly assign soulmates, especially not second ones.”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” The worst part right now is how defeated you feel. How hopeless and helpless everything feels knowing that Jack’s mind was made up before he even met you. “He doesn’t want anything to do with it, but apparently the fact of him was enough to scare off the guy who did like me.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Diana doesn’t know the details, just the highlights that had been given to her and she knows it might be better for you to talk and get it off your chest. “If you want.”

Not being able to talk to anyone these last few days has been the hardest part of everything, in some ways. With no one to help lighten the burden it seems to have tripled its weight on your chest. The normal phone calls to your sister whenever something bad or complicated happened hadn’t occurred this time - because how could you explain even half of what happened while avoiding the tidbits that apparently required security clearance? It was a minefield you didn’t know how to navigate. But Diana? Diana already understands this world. She lives in it and thrives. “It goes back to when I first got here,” you explain, as if that were longer ago than a mere three weeks. “That first night…Jack came to tell me that I had gotten the job here, and we ended up going out together.” Working while you talk is the best way to keep your mind from overwhelming you, and by the time lunch is finished being prepared you’ve told Diana everything. Every last detail is laid out for her to examine, leaving you feeling both exhausted and somehow unburdened as you sit down together at the long prep counter to eat.

Diana is madder than a bucket full of hornets. Fuming as you had described the back and forth treatment from Jack, dangling you like a marionette until he’s realized he’s too close and tossing you aside. Instead of raging, she reaches over and pulls you in for another hug. “This isn’t your fault.”

“What’s worse is that I can’t even bring myself to be mad anymore.” Upset, obviously, and hurt. But anger has come and gone like a flash in a pan. “I get that he’s hurt, and that this is as much a shock to him as it is to me. But I just…” You squeeze her back, needing the hug much more than you want to admit. “I haven’t gotten a say in any of it. Even Tex wouldn’t say a damn word to me once he realized. Like in his mind Jack already owned me, or something. But all Jack wants is to be friends.” At least, that’s what he had said. And all you could do is take it at face value.

"Tex is...loyal." Diana sighs. "He's always been secretly disappointed that soulmate marks haven't shown up on his body so he could find his soulmate." She explains. "Of course, he isn't going to poach Jack's mate. Even if he wanted to, his sense of propriety wouldn't let him because he feels like Jack will want you."

“Which means that, once again, I don’t get a say in my own relationships.” It’s becoming a recurring theme and you aren’t exactly thrilled with that. “I’m sorry,” you shake your head and pick up your fork, reminding yourself that eating is necessary even when you’re annoyed. “I don’t mean to complain about people who act with what they believe are the best of intentions. But I’d give my right foot for anybody to have asked me what I wanted.” Tilting your head, though, you look around you and half-chuckle. “Except Champ. He’s given me anything I want here, and I’m grateful for that.”

“I don’t blame you.” Diana shakes her head. “Men always try to do what they think best without asking.” You are so sweet and you deserve the world. “Take back your control where you can.” She urges you.

“How am I supposed to do that?” It’s an honest question, considering you barely know what you want beyond to be loved. The fact that Jack's face is what always comes to mind now is just a complication. “Tex is in another country and Jack has made up his mind already.”

“That, I can’t decide for you.” Diana has a few ideas on what she would do if Champ had rejected her, but she wasn’t you. “But I can tell you what I would do if I were you.”

Something about the way she says it sparks your curiosity, and you tilt your head at her as you pluck up one of the fritters from the basket between you. “What would you do?” Anything is better than moping - which is all you’ve done for days.

“I would start dating.” Diana snorts and sends you a small grin. “As many dates as you want, whoever you want.” She shrugs. “If he wants to be ‘friends’, he doesn’t get a say in how you move on with your life.” She takes a sip of her sweet tea. “Operate like you don’t even acknowledge Jack Daniels wears your marks.”

“Seriously?” You’re not sure why the suggestion is so shocking to you, but you feel like your jaw drops all the way down to the counter when she looks at you with fire in her eyes. She’s angry for you, and it’s simultaneously daring and empowering. Like she has just done the emotional equivalent of offering the Revenge Dress to Princess Di. “That’s…I guess that makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“Yes it does.” She nods. “You don’t have to do it, but I would. Just to show him that he’s not going to dictate your life, just because he’s hung up on a past that is no longer reality.”

“Are you…suggesting that it might make him jealous?” You can’t imagine how, all things considered, but it would be kind of satisfying.

“If it does, it serves the fool right.” She hums, a slightly evil grin on her face. “Even if it doesn’t, it will be you taking control of your life again. You decide how you spend your time.”

“I…” Slumping slightly in your seat, you nudge your fork through your salad - it’s delicious, but you’re thinking things through. “I don’t know if I’m ready to possibly get rejected again so soon,” you admit. “I’m…I don’t think I could take it. Not this soon.”

“Let me set you up.” Her eyes light up and she grins. “Astrid’s brother is coming into town.” She gasps. “Oh that’s perfect.”

“Oh, I…” It’s guilt, this twisting feeling in your gut, and all of a sudden you sit up and shake your head. “The idea of it makes me feel guilty,” you tell Diana honestly. “Which is totally illogical, and I need to get over this fucking crush I have on Jack or it’s just going to fester and that won’t help. So…” Exhaling deeply, you nod as decisively as possible. “Tell me about Astrid’s brother.”

Diana grins and sends you a wink. “If I was twenty years younger…” she starts with a laugh, proceeding to tell you all about the handsome man that will be perfect for a good time and getting your mind off Jack.

It’s not such a bad idea, when you think about it. The trajectory of your life has taken such an obtuse turn that thinking about something like life after being rejected by your second soulmate is just a chat you have over lunch with your boss’s wife. Although, with this conversation today, Diana has become much more than just your boss’s wife. She’s your closest friend at Statesman. “Okay.” You nod, sitting up straight after she tells you all about the man she has in mind. “As long as Astrid is okay with it, I’m in.”

“Good!” Diana smirks as she picks up another fritter out of the basket. “I bet you these would be amazing as a side dish to meatloaf.” She muses before giggling slightly.

“I would make that for my staff in a heartbeat. I just need to find a good meatloaf recipe.” You ruminate on the idea for a second before smiling. “Actually, I’ve been trying to figure out one more thing for the main menu. Meatloaf and cornbread fritters might be just the thing.”

“I have a recipe.” The smile that creeps over Diana’s face is nothing short of fortuitous. “Every Wednesday it’s served at my dinner table.” She admits. “You are welcome to come, but….Jack will be there.”

For a split second you almost jump on the invitation, but even the mention of his name makes you hesitate. Especially when you realize that today is Wednesday. “Maybe next week.” Seeing him again so soon - mere hours after you’ve talked everything out - just doesn’t feel like something you can handle.

“I can understand that.” Diana nods sagely, reaching out and touching the back of your hand. “Why don’t I bring you some tomorrow and let you try it, see if you like the recipe.”

“That would be really nice of you.” You turn your hand over to squeeze hers quickly. “Thank you for this, Diana. For all of this today.”

“What are friends for?” She knows that she’s older, and she’s the boss’s wife, but she thinks of you as a friend. “Plus I’ll make sure I give you the portion that would have gone home with Jack.” She cackles and winks at you.

The two of you share a good laugh over the idea of Jack pouting over missing his leftovers, and you bite back the feeling of regret at not being able to sit at that table with him like any normal pair of soulmates. “I really…” It sticks in you, clinging to your heart unbidden. “I want him to be happy,” you tell her honestly. “If that’s not with me, then the universe screwed up.”

“Jack’s never going to be happy until he lets his wife’s ghost rest.” Diana explains exasperatedly. “The man can claim he’s happy, but he’s not. You can tell, at least those that have known him for a long time can.”

“Well…whatever it ends up meaning for him. He just…” Sitting back in your seat, you reach for what’s left of your tea and sigh softly. “Everybody deserves to be happy.”

“And that includes you.” Diana reminds you, giving you a firm look.

“I hope so.” After the last few weeks, though, you have your doubts.

******

“I shouldn’t let you in the damn house.” Diana scowls at Jack as he stands in the doorway of her house. If she had a rolling pin in her hand, she’d be hitting him with it.

In the hours since she left your kitchen, Diana has been fuming. Thank god Champ hasn’t been home until just a few minutes ago or he would have gotten quite the earful about how purely Jack had treated you.

Jack's easy smile is instantly replaced with a frown. "What did I do?" He demands, looking around. "I wasn't supposed to bring nothin'."

“What you did has nothing to do with dinner.” She tells him flatly. This isn’t a conversation for the whole neighborhood to hear, though, so she lets him inside despite wanting to wallop him. “Would you like to guess how I spent the afternoon, Jack?”

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Jack scoffs, shaking his head. "Your husband has me trainin' the young bucks on the whip and lasso." It still is a sore subject but at least he isn't stuck behind the desk for the entire day.

"I heard a little story today." Shutting the door behind him, Diana frowns and puts her hands on her hips. "From your soulmate."

"How many fuckin' times do I have to explain this." Jack's frown deepens and he rolls his eyes. "She ain't my soulmate. Second soulmates is a fucking lie you tell someone to make yourself feel better about the poor bastard losing his while yours is still happily breathin'." He scoffs. "It ain't real and I didn't fuckin' ask for her marks. I don't want 'em."

"A fact which you made abundantly clear to her." The steam pouring from Diana's ears is proverbial, thankfully, otherwise she would look like a cartoon character. "Without ever paying her the courtesy of kindness due to somebody who had their original soulmate torn from them. Instead you flirted with her, basically took her out on a date, kissed her; all the while telling her she basically means nothing to you. And then you had the goddamn audacity to make it seem like she did something wrong for finding herself likin' you at the end of the day." As it all comes tumbling out, Diana can feel herself just getting madder and madder, her blood nearly boiling all too quickly. "Second soulmates may be rare, Jack, but you're living goddamn proof that it's real. Whether you like it or not."

Shame fills Jack, but he'll be damned if he admits it. "She wouldn't have known if Tequila could keep his fuckin' mouth shut." He hisses. "She shouldn't have known, she'd have been happy livin' her life here and whatever attraction between us would have fizzled out and she could've moved on with her life." Guilt and something else twists in his gut, making it churn at the thought of that very thing happening. Shaking his head like he could shake off the feeling, he props his hands on his hips and stares at his oldest friend's wife. "Anything else you wanna lecture me on?"

"Yes, and it's ironic that you asked." The fact that he's trying to pass the buck off on poor Tequila is a whole other topic but she's too fired up in your defense right now. "Since you never once asked her how she felt about the whole damn thing."

"What does it matter?" Jack's volume creeps up in exasperation and he throws his hands up. "It's not gonna change things. It's not like I can change the fact that I'm gonna love my Abigail until the day I'm in the ground beside her. So what fuckin' good is it to ask how she feels about things that don't matter?"

"Because she's human, Jack!" Having to explain that to a grown ass man might be the most exasperating part, since Diana had always counted him as a concerned and caring friend. Apparently his blind spots when it comes to his own emotional state are even bigger than she had thought. "You don't have to love her but you do have to acknowledge that she's a grown woman with feelings and opinions all her own. And that those matter. How can you look her in the face and tell her you want to be her friend without ever once asking how she feels?"

“I can’t love her, Diana.” Jack’s frown turns into something desperate, almost beseeching as he implores her to believe him. “I can’t. I killed her soulmate.”

"Agents have killed lots of men, Jack Daniels." It's his job, and no one here is debating the morality of it. It's just a fact. "But she is the only soulmate that has ever transferred to a Statesman agent in the history of the organization." Diana shakes her head, her expression turning distinctly disappointed. "I'm not asking you what you think you're capable of. I'm saying she is alone, and she's sad, and she feels less than human because you didn't do the courtesy of just asking. You just assumed. And if nothing else, that isn't what friends do."

Jack stares at her for a long moment and sighs, his shoulders slumping and he closes his eyes. “I- I don’t know what to do.” He admits quietly. “I don’t know how to do this.”

"Nobody expects you to." Like a patient older sister with her petulant little brother, Diana shakes her head before reaching out to rub his shoulder softly. "But this knee-jerk anger about having her mark isn't helping anybody at all. Least of all you and her. Or poor Tequila."

"Why do I get to wear hers and not Abigail’s?" Jack demands, choking the question out. "They disappeared, gone, like she never existed."

'I don't know, Jack." When he starts to crumble, Diana moves in, offering him a place to lean against her if he wants it. "But she didn't put them on you herself. She doesn't deserve to be treated like an undesirable for something completely beyond her control."

Jack squeezes his eyes shut and takes the comfort that is being offered. "I- I'll try to - to be her friend." He swallows, hating the way his heart leaps and starts to pound at the mere thought of being around you. "Like- like it was when she showed up."

"Platonic soulmates do exist." In her heart she doesn't think that's how the two of you are meant to be, but it's not up to her to decide. No one but you and Jack can determine how you feel about each other. For now she puts one arm around Jack and gently rubs it up and down his back in a slow, soothing rhythm. "And...for the record? Tequila didn't out you. He only told her that he had seen her mark on somebody else. She figured it out herself."

"Who else would that dumb hick know that would show him a fucking tattoo?" He huffs, still sore about his damn jaw. "I really did think that he had seen her mark on the arm."

"Statesman has hundreds of employees," she reminds him gently. "It could have been anyone. And...apparently she covered it for the wedding. With makeup. Her cousin isn't a big fan of tattoos so she wanted to be courteous."

“Shit.” Jack closes his eyes, the guilt compounding when he remembers the hurt in Tex’s voice.

"It's been a rough few days." She can acknowledge that. That it's been hard for everyone, him included. Unfortunately, there isn't much more she can do but say her piece and be a good friend - both to you and to Jack. "Let's go have some dinner."

“I’m allowed to stay?” Jack asks, slightly surprised that she’s not booting him out on his ass.

“I’m upset, not heartless.” Diana tells him, though if he hadn’t showed remorse or had dug his heels in, she might have sent him on his way. “But next week she’ll be here right alongside you, so I’ll ask you to find a way to be civil by then.”

“I got no problem being civil.” Jack promises, even though he would prefer to limit his time with you until he feels like he is on steady ground. But what could a dinner hurt?

“Good.” Even if she doesn’t quite believe him, she’s already picked her fight for today.

Jack follows Diana into the house, wondering why the older woman felt so strongly about you - a newcomer. He shakes his head and shuffles towards the living room as he greets Champ.

“I won’t ask.” Champ already has a beer out for Jack, having heard the ruckus from upstairs. His wife had given him an overview of her conversation with you but mostly kept your confidence, as she always does with a friend. “The youngins do alright today, Jack?”

Jack can only be grateful that someone doesn't want to crawl up his ass and into his business. He takes the beer and nods. "Comin' along, though some of them ain't exactly cowboys."

"I'm sure we can fix that," the older man chuckles as they follow Diana into the dining room. Bobby had been getting the table set while his mother took the screws to Jack, apparently. "Most don't hang around here too long without getting the spirit."

"True." Jack can agree with that, knowing his own training had weeded out plenty of unsuitable candidates. "But you've got a family legacy here." He tells the older man as he winks at Bobby. "Like the boy here."

"He's doing fine work." Champ commends, puffed up proudly as they all take their seats at the table. "Finer than I was at his age, that's for damn sure."

Jack snorts. "Of course he is." He jokes, winking at the kid. "But that's not sayin' much."

"Alright, you three." Diana looks around the table as she starts to serve - a habit she's kept for years just to keep the men in her life from making a mess at the table. "No shop talk at dinner, you know the rules."

"Yes ma'am." Jack grins as both he and Bobby answer Diana at the same time and Champ just grins at his wife and winks at her playfully.

The meal starts with a little benign chit chat, but soon turns around to Statesman again - though the men are all careful to avoid mentioning case work to adhere to Diana's 'no shop talk at family dinner' rule. "Did I see a groundbreaking on the new apartment building this morning?" Bobby asks when he reaches for seconds. There used to be three small parks in the housing neighborhood. Soon there will only be two. "I didn't know we were expanding that much more. Is the new restaurant gonna be that big?"

Champ leans back and nods. "Figure it will be." He admits, smirking slightly at how well the projected sales are forecasting with just the traffic from the people who work at Statesman enjoying your food right now. "We got ourselves a real winner." He glances over at Jack who is looking down at his plate.

“And it’s just the start.” Diana’s pride is more for you than for the business. “When we start hosting more events than just corporate getaways and bachelor parties, things are really going to get busy around here.”

Jack shouldn't feel pride, he had nothing to do with the restaurant. It was your baby, your hard work and vision that was making it a reality. Still, he nods as he forks up another bite of meatloaf and agrees. "She will be full every day."

Across from him, Diana bites back a smirk at the pride in his voice. “Once she starts doing weddings, she’ll be lucky to have a day off.”

"She doesn't need to be overworked." Jack immediately frowns. "She needs to trust the people around her."

"She'll need a team." For the first time in a little while, Diana is in total agreement with Jack. "It's going to be time to start hiring staff soon, won't it? Including a good second-in-command."

Jack nods, keeping his eyes on his plate. “Yeah she will need that.”

"You sure you don't want the job, Mom?" Bobby grins at his mother, knowing little about the woman who will be running the new restaurant on premises except that his mother is incredibly fond of her. "You always said you wanted to be a party planner."

“Oh no,” Diana quickly shakes her head. “There’s no way that I could keep up with her.” She laughs. “She’s too energetic.”

"What about the opening night party, Di?" Champ suggests, glancing sideways to get an eyeful of Jack staring into his plate. "You're still our gal for events until we hire a full on planner. Why don't you talk to her about what she'd like for opening night?"

“Oh she should have a party, shouldn’t she?” Diana muses. “Something to celebrate the opening. We need to get her family here for it.” She turns to Jack. “You take care of that.”

"Jack's a little overqualified to be a travel agent, ain't he?" Bobby snorts, obviously not having understood the argument between his mentor and his mother, if he overheard it at all.

Jack swallows and pushes around the green beans. “Nah, kid, I’ll be happy to arrange for the family to come down.” He raises a brow. “Gonna need the jet of course. She’s got a big group.” It highlights how alone Jack is now, his own family reduced down to just him. No siblings, parents gone, wife and child gone. Alone.

"Whatever you need." Champ waves his hand like it's the easiest thing in the world, then smiles at his wife. "You, too. Whatever y'all need. Carte blanche to throw a hell of a hoedown."

“Well, that’s a mistake.” Jack snorts, shaking his head even though he’s grinning. “Your wife will invite half the state and plan on feedin’ em too.”

"I'll be damn sure to book the whole place full with reservations." And Diana won't pretend otherwise, either. She has a few strings she can pull, some friends she can call, and some favors she can call in. People enough to make the night the talk of Louisville, that's for sure.

Champ chuckles and reaches over to take his wife’s hand. “I know you will, honey. You always do a good job for us.” He praises, kissing the back of her hand and Jack looks back down at his meal, unable to rationalize the jealousy swimming through him at the causally intimate gesture.

"I'll hash everything out with her this week," Diana hums, as casually as if they were all chatting about the weather. She's interested to know just how rankled Jack will get if she takes things one step further in this conversation about you. "Before the weekend. I don't want her worrying about anything when Lewis gets into town."

“Lewis is coming?” Bobby grins, well acquainted with Astrid’s brother. “That means we need to make sure that our tab is in good standing at the bar. For damages.” He chuckles and leans back. There was always a scuffle at the bar when Ginger’s little brother came to town.

"Y'all can get into plenty of trouble on a boys' night." She laughs, shaking her head at her son even while she watches Jack out of the corner of her eye. "He's taking our favorite chef out while he's here."

Jack’s head snaps up and he almost immediately starts to protest and then he presses his lips together. Knowing that he doesn’t have any reason to argue against it. Instead he ducks his head down and stares at the meatloaf that suddenly tastes like ash in his mouth.

"Oh?" Champ nearly chokes at Jack's reaction but manages to keep his poker face. "Yes." Diana has sat back in her chair, raising her glass of wine to her lips in victory. The jealousy on Jack's face is as obvious as the shade of red he has turned. "Something about a concert he has tickets to? He was very excited."

Jack’s jaw nearly breaks; he's mashing it together so harshly, grinding his back teeth. Eyes burning a hole in his plate as he stares at it.

"Sounds like fun." The sound of chomping from Jack sitting beside him is unexpected, but Bobby doesn't call attention to it because he's not sure what the hell he just heard. "What's he up for? Just the concert?" Diana shakes her head, absorbing every single reaction she can get out of Jack. "Astrid and Gabi's oldest is turning seven next week. They're not doing a big party or anything, but you know Lewis wouldn't miss the kids' birthdays."

It hurts to sit here. Listening to Diana happily chatter about Lewis. Even if he does like Ginger’s brother, he’s suddenly a hell of a lot less happier he’s coming. Wanting to bolt from the table and the conversation but he reaches for his glass to gulp down the rest of his sweet tea, mouth dry.

“Now that we got a pastry chef on premises, birthdays for the kids are going to be a lot sweeter.” Champ nudges his empty plate back on the table after taking his last bite and pats his belly in satisfaction. He’d have to have lost his marbles to be oblivious to what his wife is doing as she harps on the topic, but he also can’t say that Jack hasn’t been damn fool enough to have it coming.

Jack nearly chokes, coughing to cover up the way that the tea manages to slide down the wrong pipe. Slapping himself on the chest and taking deep breaths when he finally finished sputtering the liquid up from his lungs.

“Alright, Jack?” Diana asks, expression washed with nothing but mild concern. She knows he’s fine, but he’s been awfully quiet while he stews - right until this.

"Fine." Jack clears his throat and shakes his head quickly. "Fine. Just swallowed wrong." He gives a bland smile and takes another sip of his drink.

“Good.” Her smile tightens just barely. “I’d hate to think anything here,” she waves her hand at the remnants of the meal in front of them. “Was hard to swallow.”

Jack's jaw rocks but he nods, understanding what is being said. "Not a damn thing." He drawls. "Everything was just as good as it's always been."

“Good.” If that’s all that Jack wants - what’s always been - he’s going to be hurtin’ watching you live your life. And if that’s the bed he’s made for himself, Diana thinks as she gives him a smile, it will be a very lonely one to lie in.

"Good." Jack nods, fully aware there is nothing good about it at all.

******

The clock on the wall reads six o’clock by the time you’re winding down for the day, exhausted from interviews and looking forward to grabbing dinner with Diana after this next one was over with. The intensive process of hiring an entire restaurant’s worth of staff hasn’t been fun, and this is the end of day three. The only thing you’re happy about is that you really do have most of your team together by now. One more line cook and maybe two more waiters and you’ll have a full house. You look down at the application in front of you - the bottom of the stack - and hope you can retain any of the information it contains while you’re talking to this guy. Tripp Tanner. You chuckle Unconsciously at the alliteration. Well…at least you’ll remember his name.

Jack decides to stop by your kitchen. Trying to make a more conscious effort to make you feel wanted, it’s been hard, but he also won’t admit that he likes checking on you. Making sure that you are enjoying your new creation. “Sugar?” He calls out. “You in the back?”

“Jack?” In the weeks since everything exploded between the two of you, you’ve been trying to be nice. To be friendly. Even though it twists your aching heart that he doesn’t see you as anything more, you’re trying to move on. Something that’s hard to do when he pops in to surprise you like this. “I’m in the kitchen!”

“Are you busy?” The last thing he wants to do is impose, but he wants to ask about the planning for the party. Talking to your brother about scheduling everyone in your family to come down is a pain. Too many people to juggle.

He strolls through the door like a cowboy rolling up to his favorite saloon and you can’t help but smile. “I have a couple of minutes before my last interview. What’s up?”

“What time are you planning on kickin’ off the festivities on your big day?” He asks, looking around the kitchen and nodding at the controlled chaos that it seems to emit.

“It’s still almost two months away.” There’s a lot of work to do before then, but you’re excited. Champ has given you everything you’ve asked for and then some. “But the party is…it’s going to be a lot of fun.” Diana’s idea to turn the one-night soft opening you had planned into a party is shaping up to be wonderful. “The whole thing will start at six that night.”

“But the opening is when?” Jack nods, filing away that information. “So I can make sure that the website is updated.”

“Six weeks from Saturday.” Which is so far away and so close all at once. “April 14.”

“Okay, so they are different days?” Jack shakes his head in confusion. “Take me through everything please?”

“The soft opening is like our trial run.” You pop up from your seat to refresh your tea and come back from the fridge with a glass for him as well. “People come by invitation and they have reservations. We’re going to offer our whole menu and have some live music that Diana is arranging. There will be thank you gifts for everyone who comes and they’re all going to get little nips of Statesman with the date on the bottle as well. Champ’s idea, of course.” With how wonderful everyone’s been, you’ve really just been basking in the support. Professionally, at least, things are wonderful. “What this does is give us a night to work out any kinks in the system and make sure all the food is perfect for the grand opening, which is the next day. That’s when we open to the public.”

“Okay, soft opening is Saturday, Grand opening is Sunday.” Jack nods, knowing he will invite the family for the entire weekend. Give you a chance to spend time with them outside of the hustle of your restaurant opening. He leans against a counter, unaware that there is a tool with a sharp edge to snag on his button down shirt. It’s too hot to wear his sports coat and he had run by after leaving the office.

“It will be a very big weekend.” You already know you won’t sleep Friday night, too excited and worried and proud and scared to rest at all. “For tonight, though? Just one more interview.”

“Who you hirin’?” Jack asks before he takes a sip of his tea. Trying to ignore the way your eyes light up and seem to sparkle talking about the opening. Too damn pretty for his peace of mind.

“My sous chef is coming from Savannah. She was the first person I hired.” The enthusiastic woman is about your age and has been doing French influenced Southern fair in Georgia hotels for her whole career. She was excitable but focused in your video interview and you hadn’t hesitated to pull the trigger. “And my front of house manager is actually my roommate from college. She was a hospitality major when I was in culinary and we always said one day if we had our own place we’d hire each other.” The stack of applications and resumes had been intimidatingly thick when they started to arrive, but with Diana’s help you’re getting through it all. “This last interview is for a line cook. I’ve had twice as many applicants as I have positions so I’ll decide this week and call everyone before the end of the day on Friday.”

Jack knows next to nothing about hiring cooks but he nods. Diana’s voice in his head about being polite. “That’s good, sugar. I’m sure you’ll find the right fit for everyone soon.” He agrees. “That sandwich you had everyone tastin’ was mighty good. I never did hear what it was called?”

“That was my version of a croque monsieur.” Having agents and office workers and everybody from the Statesman offices come down to taste test recipes has been an absolute blessing, and so far you’ve made good use of all the constructive criticisms that have come your way. Although you may have weighed opinions like Jack’s more heavily than others…

“It was damn good.” He admits, taking another sip of the sweet tea that you have down to an art form despite growing up in the North. “Hopefully that will make it to your menu at some point.”

“It was a pretty rousing success, so I think it will.” It’s such an easy moment between the two of you. Sitting there together and chatting away, you could almost be mistaken for a couple with the smiles on your faces. But you’ll never tell him just how often you harbor thoughts like that. He would despise it.

Jack hums, knowing that most days will be spent having lunch here, or at least ordering it into the office. “Good,” he leans forward and the material catches, the sounds of ripping fabric filling the air. “Shit.”

“Oh shit!” You jump up, reaching around him to snatch the corkscrew up that somehow got wedged under a stack of cast iron pans and became a weapon against men’s fashion. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Did it scratch you or just your shirt?”

Jack frowns, twisting his head and pulling on his arm. “Looks like it just tore my shirt.” Of course it would tear so that the tattoo he wears is exposed and he hisses. “No- it scratched me.”

“Shit,” you murmur again, turning him a little so you can see the damage. “Th-that shouldn’t have happened. I’ll replace the shirt for you. I—I’m sorry, Jack.” What a stupid thing to have ruined a perfectly nice moment, too. “It just looks like a scratch, though. Not like it will…” Even the thought of it has you cringing. “Not like it will scar.” God knows the last thing he wants is another reminder of you.

“Don’t worry about it.” The black looping scrawl on his skin is visible and it makes Jack’s mouth run dry. Your own is already visible today since you have your sleeves rolled up and Jack pulls back to hastily stand straight. “I’ll change my shirt and toss this one.” He tells you quickly. No need to buy another or triage.” He’s panicking and he knows he is, but he sends you a sickly smile.

“You’d better go.” There is no mistaking the way he jumps. The jittery way he jerks is so diametrically opposed to his normally smooth and confident movements. It’s obvious, once you see how his shirt has ripped. He doesn’t want your tattoo showing. Being nice to you is one thing, but having anyone know what you are to him is another. You cross your arms and lean against the counter, suddenly sullen rather than apologetic. “Get a new shirt on before anybody sees.”

“I– that’s not–” Jack protests and shakes his head, falling silent when your stony expression doesn’t change. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He murmurs silently. “Thanks for the tea, sugar.”

The best way to keep yourself from running after him like some godforsaken schoolgirl is to stay stone faced, and you turn back to the counter that you had been using as a desk to take a few very deep breaths before whoever the hell Tripp Tanner is gets here.

Jack curses himself as he rushes through the door, not even paying attention to the man who had come in without him hearing. Watching him through narrowed eyes.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Kingsman Golden Circle #soulmate au

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fists-on-up · 3 months

Text

I started this blog when Twitter looked like it was going down so I could keep up with my gaylor friends. Most of them are still on Twitter, but as a writer I am a wordy motherfucker & I hate character limits. So, rather than let this blog lay dormant I am going to use it for more personal gaylor related things & more abstract/complex perspectives.

I might as well start by explaining how I stumbled upon the gaylor community because I feel like my journey here was much different than most.

I am a little older than Taylor & have mostly listed to rock & EDM my whole life. I don't hate pop, but I don't really seek it out & I don't care much about trends or pop culture. I had heard the most popular Taylor Swift songs in passing. I didn't hate Taylor at all, I just never looked further into her music.

I do vaguely remember feeling like YBWM sounded very much like being in love with your high school best friend who doesn't consider you an option because you're a girl, and as a Shakespeare obsessed lesbian Love Story pinged the ol' gaydar because forbidden love is way more common for queer people. It's not impossible, though, for a girl's family to not approve of a particular boy so I chalked it up to a specific situation she faced coupled with me viewing lyrics through my own (very gay) experiences. Especially given the fact that Romeo & Juliet tends to be referenced often based upon a very surface-level understanding of the story.

These thoughts did stick with me subconsciously, as it turns out. One day I was listening to a Spotify generated playlist I was really digging and Don't Blame Me came on while I was in the shower. I thought "Wow, this is a very sexy, Sapphic song who the hell is this??" I checked when I got out of the shower & was so confused. I LOVED it and listened to it frequently, but it still hadn't clicked completely.

Then I heard only the bridge to Cruel Summer in a TikTok & said "Oh my God, she's gay!" I immediately recognized how painful & difficult it is to play the part of "friends" in public and the sense of doom that comes with realizing you're in love with a girl while closeted. If you've never had that experience, I envy you. How we treat people we're in love with isn't really planned out, it's automatic. Trying to catch that & substitute "friendly" behavior when you don't even know HOW to be her friend is very hard. It's hard to not feel insecure when the woman you love treats you like a friend, too. It's hard to hide the love and the pain if you wear your heart on your sleeve. In short, it's torture. A unique torture you can only really describe or recognize if you've experienced it. I have, and immediately knew Taylor had too.

As soon as this clicked I immediately devoured her entire discography over & over again. For days it was all I did, starting before I got out of bed and ending when I fell asleep with a notepad on my bed listening to evermore (again). I was 100% certain she is queer before I ever Googled "Taylor Swift gay?". I didn't even know there was lore or a community at first.

I didn't just recognize her queerness because I'm queer, however. I recognized it because I'm a writer. Not by profession. By passion, I suppose. And what really made it clear was what Taylor doesn't say.

I realized I was gay when I was 14 years old and when I did I wasn't scared, I was excited. I had come to the conclusion that the entire world was just... faking it. Girls would kiss boys & go on & on about it, almost every song, movie, & book was about love, and I just couldn't relate. I had kissed more than a few boys, but I seriously did not understand. I would pretend to fit in, but it was not at all appealing to me.

Then a friend stayed the night & kissed me. A friend that I wasn't consciously attracted to at all, and yet - fireworks. Suddenly I realized that people weren't exaggerating or lying about attraction & love. I realized that the concept of attraction wasn't merely recognizing that a boy was conventionally attractive, it was attraction like two magnets pulled together. Like gravity. I wasn't broken, the world wasn't a lie, and I was fucking ecstatic about it.

But then I told some close friends and most of them immediately stopped talking to me. Some became hostile. This was around 1999-2000 in Small Town, Texas where there were no out queer people. Looking back I understand that it was just a matter of kids being ignorant and uneducated and, well, kids but at the time it was confusing. I tried to backpedal and told the friends who stayed that I was bisexual. I even tried to be bisexual (spoiler: I am not). The excitement I initially felt quickly turned to fear & I chose to hide it from anyone else.

To cope with the constant overflow of my newly-activated heart and the isolation of having no one who understands, I poured myself into poetry. I started reading Shakespeare at 11 and had read most classical works by the same age. By 14 I had multiple poems published in collections, had read every work of Shakespeare & Poe, and had memorized the Chorus to Romeo & Juliet. Using poetry to cope was kind of my brand. So cope I did.

I wrote thousands of poems. I filled binders & spirals & journals. I was always writing. Most people knew I was published young & knew I was writing like crazy, so it wasn't uncommon for other kids to read what I was working on. Sometimes they'd commission a poem from me.

The fear of anyone finding out (including my parents) meant that I had to be very, very careful with how I worded things. No she/her pronouns. Nothing that would give me away. The occasional red herring. I would be specific enough that the muse would know it was about her, but no one else would.

I almost always wrote to the muse, using "you" more than anything. Poetry is like a love letter, so it comes naturally, but it also prevented the need for gendered pronouns. I wrote that way so much I still default to it now (and I have a hard time NOT pouring my heart out to anyone I care about). I didn't realize it at the time, but my writing was inherently queer coded despite my efforts to conceal it because, well, I'm queer. Sound familiar?

There are simply some things that are upside down when you're queer & you don't even recognize it because you've never NOT been queer. Things you say straight girls wouldn't. Things you don't say that straight girls would. Straight people don't see it because they've never NOT been straight. Hell, queer men won't recognize Sapphic language because they've never been attracted to a woman OR been a woman.

There are subtle, inherent tells separate from intentional tells or flags. I didn't realize that, and neither did the kids (or adults) who read my work semi-regularly.

One day my close friend borrowed my poetry journal to catch up on what I had written. This was an especially vulnerable journal, but it was just as obfuscated as everything else. I thought nothing of it and went about my day.

Hours later, during lunch, I was outside probably bumming a cigarette off of an equally punkass kid or smoking a bit of weed from a pipe crafted out of a soda can when I heard a girl shouting my name. I left the hidden corner and walked to the main area to see a girl I didn't know walking around, calling my name loudly over and over. I called back to her, confused but glad it wasn't a teacher busting me smoking.

When we were finally face to face she confirmed that I am in fact me & I realized that she was holding my journal. She pulled me to a more secluded area, looked me in my eyes, and said "these are about girls, right?"

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck shit.

I was a sophomore. 15 years old. She was a senior. A beautiful black girl named Lovely who I only knew of because it was a small school. And here she was just... straight up asking me. No one had ever asked me before. I had never had to answer this question before. I was caught off guard & wholly unprepared for this.

The closet is an awful place when you hate lying.

So, I didn't lie. For some reason I looked right into this girl's eyes and reluctantly, fearfully, said "Yes." Then I held my breath.

But she didn't laugh at me, didn't call me a dyke, didn't preach at me. She just... fucking cried.

This lovely girl named Lovely completely broke down in front of me, a complete stranger, and I did not realize what was happening.

Turns out Lovely wasn't just lovely, she was queer. And scared. And so, so lonely. She thought she was the only one, until she heard what my poetry didn't say. She recognized the inherent queerness in my writing because she identified with it and immediately came to find me.

I consider that conversation to be one of the most pivotal, defining interactions of my life. The entire time I thought I was alone & Lovely was there. Lovely thought she was alone & I was there, and I suddenly realized coming out wasn't really about me. It wasn't about the friends and family who would reject me. It was also about being visible. Being brave. Being proud. It was about the other queer kids who thought they were the only one. The other kids who couldn't come out. With this realization, from this conversation, I found purpose.

The very next day, Lovely came to school in baggy jeans and a basketball jersey - a huge departure from the very feminine presentation she always had. We never talked about it again, just exchanged fond smiles and nods in the hallway, but she came out to some extent. I came out within a week of our conversation, and I made a conscious decision that I was going to be loud about it.

My mom was great when I came out & I knew she'd have my back. Before the word "privilege" was commonplace, I at least understood that my supportive mom gave me an advantage others didn't have. I felt like I had not only the ability but the responsibility to be visible and unapologetic.

I was a rebellious little shit. I would make out with girls in the hallway. I lined the inside of my locker with Playboy pictures. I wrote "gay" on my forehead in hot pink lipstick when I got sick of being asked if I was "fully gay".

As a result, the varsity quarterback would call me in tears to talk through his struggles with his sexuality. I knew the most popular boys all of the girls wanted were actually very in love with each other. Girls who would laugh along with their friends who called me a dyke would hook their fingers into mine when they passed me in the hallway & pull me into dark rooms at parties when no one was looking.

I became the keeper of secrets. Society makes queer people lie & uses the guilt of that "deception" to keep people closeted. We lie to ourselves, then to everyone else, then to all but a few trusted people, then even when we're out we lie on behalf of others. I still hold secrets, even for those who don't "deserve" my loyalty. It's part of it, like an unspoken code. Closeting is lying, whether we like that or not. But lying is morally neutral. Intent & impact matter.

That time of my life was hard. Teachers would treat me differently. One flat out told me I would go to hell in front of the class. Another refused to intervene when my girlfriend was physically attacked by another girl who was pissed about her dating me. The school tried, for a time, to force me to use the boys locker room so other girls wouldn't feel uncomfortable. The school tried to ban me from taking a girl to prom (even though I was taking a friend, my girlfriend's family wouldn't allow her to go with me). A group of boys chanted "1, 2, 3, 4, death to the lesbian whore" when I got to school every morning. I got in a lot of fist fights. Mostly with that group of boys. Someone broke into my locker and wrote "dyke" all over & inside of my text books in huge magic marker. I remember telling one of my teachers I couldn't read part of an assignment because of it & trying not to cry. I was preached at constantly by kids & a few teachers who saw me as an opportunity to "save a soul". I have a lot of stories.

But you know what? I got the teacher that told me I would go to hell fired. I fought back when they tried to make me use the boys locker room. When they tried to ban me from prom, I printed hundreds of pages of court rulings from cases in which schools tried to do that to other gay kids, stormed into the principal's office, dropped it on her desk and threatened her. I went to prom with my friend. And after I had graduated, my high school girlfriend (who was a grade below me) finally got to take me to hers. A gay boy I'd never met won prom king and he thanked me for it. I didn't even know him, but he knew me. I won every single fist fight. I didn't cry about the slurs written in my books in front of people & I protested when they washed it off of the front of my locker. I wanted it to be the dyke locker. I took everything they gave me with a smile & asked for more, because it showed other kids it was possible. I made myself a lightning rod for hate on purpose, because then the "less problematic" queer kids were seen in a better light. It protected them. It also made sure they knew I was there. And they came to me & I did my best to help. I chased girls & have so many stories about drunken hookups and falling in love. Wild nights & happy days.

Don't get me wrong, I fucked up plenty too. I certainly wasn't a hero, and I put myself in very real danger multiple times. There were a lot of failures & mistakes. There was a lot of pain. But it was absolutely, positively fucking worth it. Despite it all I look back on that time fondly & I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. And I'd do it the same.

That time of my life shaped who I am in every way. I'm still that punkass kid (even though I'm pushing 40 now). Still a fighter who doesn't care how much pain I endure if I'm doing the right thing. And I never would have become that person if a girl named Lovely hadn't picked up on the queer themes in my writing that I wasn't even intentionally adding. So for me, it's kind of serendipitous that the very thing that led me to becoming everything I am today is the thing that I saw & heard in Taylor. That led me to so much beautiful art, beautiful love stories, and beautiful people in the gaylor community that is so, so dear to me now.

It takes one to know one, but sometimes knowing one puts you on the path to knowing yourself.

#gaylor #gaylor swift #taylor swift

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stopscammingartists · 1 month

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isn't the piece where glip beheads marl and eevee done because they both cheated on them with exty? I have to wonder if eevee knew about the stuff from Apollo around then. obviously there's no way to know for sure, but that specific connection has lingered in my head for a while after exty mentioned marl showing the beastiality videos. like, what's the timeline?

The timeline can be gathered well from this old post of Glips reflecting on the cheating that was posted in either January 2014 or December 2013. Glips retelling here also helps.

I am going to make this a general time line of Glip's (And other Floraverse community leaders like Eevee) informed complicity in Marl's sex crimes against animals and children.

Sometime before 2013 - Marl convinced Glip they where low on money if Glip would have sex with a dog on camera for him to distribute. Glip agreed to do this. Marl would also get Glip to have sex with a second dog at a different unknown time under unknown circumstances.

November 8th - 10th 2013 - Glip goes to Australia for Supanova Brisbane. They are ran booth 186, labeled as Papaya Arts. Exty and Marl have sex while Glip is in Australia. Marl had Exty watch stuff with the family dog, Apollo, at the time. This was not the first time Marl had an affair.

November 25th, 2013 - Glip uploads a phone wallpaper of Alice (Glip), Lexy (Eevee), Callahan (Marl) and Exty's OC. Indicating that Glip is not aware of the affair that happened between Exty and Marl.

Sometime between November 25th to December 3rd 2013 - Exty or Marl (Glip flip flops between who told them) informs Glip of the affair. Marl asks for permission to sleep with Exty even though the affair already occurred.

Glip, during the confrontation, supposedly makes an ultimatum. If Marl did anything with dogs again, they would divorce him. ( This does not happen when Glip later learns Marl did stuff with dogs again in a year. )

Right after this confrontation, Eevee, apparently tried to have sex with Exty immediately after Glip left the room upset. (Girl. What.)

December 3rd, 2013 - Glip uploads "Let's Play - Lovely Kitten Surgeon" to deviantart. Showing Alice (Glip) decapitating Callahan (Marl) and Lexy (Eevee) to vent about the entire affair. This shows that Glip is now aware that Marl was abusing Apollo.

March, 2014 - Marl starts to DM a 13 year old girl named Lain / SpaggleDagger photos of dog genitalia. He wasted no time after getting that ultimatum.

October 7th, 2014 - Pengo puts out his massive call out post on Glip / Marl. The only thing that's important here is the fact Marl's zoo interest came out at this time, but Pengo made an effort to keep it on the down low under threat of retaliation.

October 18th, 2014 - Lain, a 14 year old girl at the time, posts to tumblr about how Marl privately messaged her sexually explicit content on Eevee's IRC in March of that year. Including how Marl admitted to enjoying beastiality, how he watched a woman fuck a dog, how Marl sent her photos of dog balls, and how Marl wants to have sex with this 13 year old girl in a hotel room described in vivid detail. This post generally got ignored due to the Pengo Call out.

August 10th, 2015 - Lain makes a second post about what Marl did to her. In this post Lain goes into more detail about the specifics of what Marl has told her, and describes the typically camera shy Marl accurately. Including mentioning his acne scars.

August 11th, 2015 - Glip, ignoring the fact their ultimatum to Marl was violated, makes a twitter thread complaining about a call out post from a child who "they have logs where she admits to sending nudes to someone and wanted to get them arrested for child porn"

Eevee would also write a post platforming the words of other adults who sexually abused Lain and further slandering her that would be posted on Glips blog about this. Despite Eevee being the admin of the IRC the interactions occurred on, Eevee would, curiously, not share the DM's between Lain and Marl. (Glip. You said you would divorce Marl if he did anything with dogs again. Why are you attacking a 15 year old.)

Marl would also make a post about this, claiming Lain, the 15 year old child, was harassing him.

August 15th, 2015 - Glip would again, make another post slandering the 15 year old child by platforming other abusers of hers and would use logs of Lain realizing she was sexually abused and wondering what to do about it as """""proof""""" that this child is a seductress looking to entrap men in a child porn charge.

April 5th, 2018 - Lain would leak direct messages between Big Fluff and Marl that showed Marl doing the same exact thing to Big Fluff when she was 16. They also, notably, involve Marl trying to produce Zoophilic Child porn of Big Fluff with intent to distribute.

April 6th, 2018 - Someone would post the Big Fluff / Marl logs in the Floraverse discord server. Gabby, a current-day-Floraverse-Moderator would approach the user to talk about them, and would act as a telephone between the user and Marl.

Marl would admit that these logs where he tried to convince a 16 year old to commit beastiality on camera for him to distribute were real to Gabby.

Gabby, the-current-day-floraverse-moderator would, also on behalf of Marl, ask the user to take a bribe, not realizing that these logs were already public.

When the user said no, Marl - with Gabby's assistance, would immediately change his story from "I know who this is, and I'm sorry" to "this is soooooooooo totally fake."

Glip would then claim to leave the internet because of "lies and bullshit".

April 7th, 2018 - Eevee claims the logs are edited. But, for some reason, does not have the "original unedited logs". She also tells the victims of Marl that she'll see them in hell.

May 7th, 2018 - It is discovered that Eevee / Marl and Glip are selling their home.

June 18th, 2018 - Eevee gets her name legally changed.

June 21st, 2018 - Glip gets their name legally changed.

July 22nd, 2018 - Glip FINALLY announces that they are divorcing Marl. Following up on their ultimatum against Marl, four years after Lain revealed that Marl violated that ultimatum!

Great. So, by this point, Glip divorced Marl. Additionally, Marl has admitted that chat logs of him trying to convince a 16 year old to produce zoo porn are real. There's no reason to continue this post, surely Glip won't continue to torment his other victims and cover for him by calling them liars, right?

July 23rd, 2018 - Glip posts a letter claiming that it was written by Marl. In this letter, the author insists that Glip never had any idea that Marl was into zoo. This is despite the fact Marl supposedly made Glip rape two separate dogs, and despite the fact Glip was aware that their pet dog Apollo was abused by Marl for years at this point. The author also insists that the logs between Big Fluff and Marl are edited, despite being unable to provide the "authentic" logs.

July 24th, 2018 - Marl gets his name legally changed.

August 2nd, 2018 - Glip mocks people who are suspicious of them not believing Lain, and continues to call her a 'fucking liar', and also how they're Marl's biggest victim and that that they have the chat logs (This is true.) but "nothing was there" (This is impossible to be true. They are continuing to lie to cover for Marl and themselves for their failure to act earlier.)

September 27th, 2018 - Glip would attempt to coordinate serious retaliation against Lain, who started to speak up about Marls abuse of her again.

Glip also created a twitter thread about Lain, platforming the testimonies from other men like Marl who sexually abused her, and calling her a "fucking parasite".

This is despite the fact it is know a known fact that Marl is a pedophile and a zoophile, and that Lain was one of the first victims of him to speak out.

February 27th, 2019 - Glip makes another twitter thread about Lain. Calling her a serial liar and how that traumatized them.

June 14th, 2019 - Glip claims that they thought Marl only had a fetish and that he was not acting on. This is despite the fact Glip was informed of the creation of sexual abuse footage of their pet dog in 2013.

June 30th, 2020 - Glip finally posts an apology document to both Lain and Big Fluff. They also post a document about how Marl abused them.

It is notable that, in the 41 page apology document to Lain and Big Fluff, Glip doesn't mention how both them and Eevee claimed earlier that they had no chat logs of Marl sexually abusing Lain.

The document of Glip recounting their abuse at the hands of Marl is threads through their life history as a way to prove how ill and abused they were is all accumulating to the ultimate implied conclusion that Glip couldn’t possibly have been at fault for what they did to these kids because they were being abused when they did it.

Glip was abused, and they had made horrible choices of their own volition throughout this. Both of these are true at the same time.

You think Glip is done slandering these now young adults because they apologized?

March 28th, 2023 - Glip goes on a rant in their discord server about how hurt they where by Big Fluff remembering how Glip exposed their naked body to the then child accidentally while Marl was grooming them.

September 27th, 2023 - When called out on their treatment towards Lain while knowing Marl was a zoophile, Glip bites back about how there needs to be a focus on how THEY WHERE HURT BY THE THEN CHILD. HOW THERE NEEDS TO BE A DISCUSSION ABOUT HOW THEYRE A VICTIM OF THE SAME CHILD THEY SLANDERED FOR YEARS.

There is no way to neatly tie up this post in a bow. Glip was aware that Marl was sexually abusing people, and even their family dog and lied and protected him at every chance they had until they couldn't anymore. When the opportunity arose, pillar members of the Floraverse community like Gabby decided to knowingly protect the pedophile. When Eevee was sitting on evidence of her roommate being a pedophile, she decided to lie about it, protect the pedophile, and slander the child. Glip to this day insists that they where, some sort of victim of these two children who where sexually abused by Marl, these two children that Glip themselves abused by using their platform to slander and gaslight them for years.

These people are terrible. Floraverse is terrible. They always have been, and they always will be.

#floraverse #glitchedpuppet #forbidden flora #forbiddenflora #pengosolvent #fox flux #forbiddenflor #purplekecleon

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aviatorzk · 16 days

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Cadet at home (3)

Perhaps you think I was involved in this whole cadet thing a bit too much. Perhaps you find it hard to believe that an otherwise normal 14-year old would choose to put on a uniform on his day off, iron his own shirts and talk to his peers about nothing other than being a perfect cadet.

Perhaps you find it hard to believe that that same 14-year old would impose that same peculiar discipline on his younger brother – remove his cute t-shirts, punish him for a small irregularity in his appearance, encourage him to obey his corporal’s instructions to the letter, even it meant wearing a leather punishment harness.

Perhaps you think it’s all a bit weird (some Tumblr folks have suggested this).

You are right, of course.

It was weird.

That only became clear to me after we moved away from South East Asia, back to Europe, back to a world where literally no one wore uniform, and boys like me would only be seen in shirt and tie at funerals or weddings – and then very reluctantly. I made friends, after my 18th, with guys who didn’t know how to tie a tie and didn’t own one.

I used the word ‘pure’ now and then. That is what I felt like, at the time. The world around was messy; most of the kids in school were pretty stupid, obsessed with brands and F1 and watches, things I didn’t care about at all.

Our parents were diplomats, and they were professionally nice to people from countries doing unspeakable things – and they drew us in. I mentioned that we had to join receptions and garden parties and such, and we were expected to chat politely to anyone older than us.

I distinctly remember talking to a creepy representative of a creepy gulf state, the kind of place where people are flogged for having a blog, and where women can’t drive cars. I was the picture of polite respect: ‘Of course, Your Highness, you are entirely correct, a country must impose discipline, otherwise, how could it achieve sensible progress?’

So ‘pure’ meant: ‘just myself’, as in ‘I am distinct from the mess around me’. I noticed that other kids in my situation would take to smoking pot a lot – in their perfect school uniform, of course – or even drink (easy to get your hands on Dad’s stash). I didn’t do that. I became focused, precise, meticulous – I guess I do have the cadet discipline to thank for making me a well organised and efficient student.

I mentioned before that there was an element of revenge in all of that. I made my parents feel I liked them well enough, but I didn’t need them. And they felt it, or rather: my Dad did (my mother began to develop a successful affair with the bottle, at the time).

When we chatted, casually, in passing, I would always straighten up, put my hands behind my back. I would never end the conversation by myself, but wait for him to indicate that he had run out of things to say. I deliberately sabotaged his chumminess.

He felt my disapproval, my selfishness, a hint of accusation, but he didn’t care too much.

He was pleased that his boys would stand to attention when one of his pompous guests arrived. ‘Yes Sir. Thank you Sir. Third year cadet now, Sir. Very kind of you to ask, Sir. Best thing about cadets, Sir? Obedience, I think, Sir?’

I was aloof but loyal. I lent a hand serving drinks. People appreciated my clean disciplined appearance.

(Note the perfect crease in the sleeve, if you will)

I was meticulous in everything. I hated being sloppy. I was never late. I did my own chores. I cleaned my room, and I mean: everything. I made the bed, I cleaned the floor.

I loved polishing my shoes to absolute perfection. It was a zen-like process, I went completely ‘clear’ when I did that.

I only asked my parents for the right kind of clothes, the best quality cadet shirts they were willing to pay for, the best boots, the expensive boot polish.

By being an excellent student and a perfectly clean person my parents had no reason to complain and I could avoid them.

I was free from their interference, and so: free.

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 9 months

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A Very Long, Personal [but positive] Ramble about Neurodivgerency and Character Hyperfixation

[u can ignore this if you want this is just an ADHD ramble - this is a kinda 'mask off' talk about ADHD, autism and my personal history with it all. I also talk about the upsides and downsides - and the importance of Hobie to me personally - I just wanna normalize this stuff lol]

a.k.a The story of how I sent from obsessing over him to HIM in 10 years (what a glowup on my part ik)

(I know a lot of peeps on here can feel self-conscious about being neurodivergent and character connection or whatever you wanna call it and so do I! So I wanted to write it out or just ramble for my own sake)

I don't know if it's obvious or not, but I LOVE HOBIE BROWN. I'm going to be completely candid - I think about him maybe 85 percent of the day if not more, and that's in no way an exaggeration.

No matter what I'm doing, there's a least one tab open in my brain thinking about him. It may not be the focus, but it's there.

That's just how I operate. And I've been this way for a LONG time. In fact, Hobie isn't my first 'total focus' character in Marvel.

I gain VERY deep hyperfixations on Marvel Characters, many lasting years. And there's nothing wrong with that - in fact it's rad!

!!!! ATTENTION: This is a whimsical care-free zone. For Happy Funny Folk !!!!!!!!!

Loki - My introduction to hyperfixation with characters

I don't know if this is surprising or you'd be like 'yeah u seem like the type' but I use to LOVE Loki. For YEARS.

I'm AuDHD and when I was 13/14, a freshman in HS, he was my hyperfixation. Eerything I do for Hobie, I did for Loki. I even had a Loki blog for like 3/4 years.

This was back in 2012-2013, when Avengers had just came out, and the MCU wasn't - well, the MCU yet.

But even back then, the Loki fandom was HUGE. I have no idea who was also on Tumblr back then but it was gigantic. Because movies weren't coming out every 3 months, it went on for yearrrrsssss. Art, edits, fics, everything.

I was soooo into, I loved Loki. Like Hobie, I probably thought about Loki maybe 85-90% of the day.

And sure I was doing a lot of other stuff but in the back of my head there was always the oc x canon storyline running in my head, or replaying scenes from memory and analyzing, or wondering and speculating about his character.

I mask very minimally or not at all - so everyone in my school knew me for it. And at the time I didn't know I was neurodivergent, but that didn't stop me - I was genuinely proud of it.

I wore Loki shirts to school and brought the Avengers DVD the day it dropped (this was back before streaming in ye' old 2013). I knew the Avengers movie back to front.

I saw Thor: The Dark World the day it released and SOBBED openly in the theater when he 'died'. (I remember my mom leaning over and whispering 'Do you wanna leave?' cause I seemed that upset lol)

And everyday I use to wear a necklace like this -

(credit IJSY on Etsy)

But in black, until one day I had it in my pocket and I sat on it in class and broke it in two. And people around me deadass were like 'daammnn I know that shit hurt in ur soul' cause I LOVED Loki and people knew it. And I didn't care if they did.

And I was like that for years. Overtime the Loki fandom fizzled out, especially around Phase 2 when things like GOTG first came out.

But I had a Loki fixation like maybe up until the show came out. And even then I've seen the whole thing (I ain't even like it that much 4.5/10) and I'm gonna watch the second one (I'm a fool)

But any way like to this day I still remember the first time I saw Loki and how it made me feel and I can like picture it in my head and I consider it a pretty influencial albeit mundane moment in my life.

And it was a very specific feeling but it was like as soon as I saw Loki's first scene in Avengers, I was plugged into the screen.

Other Hyperfixations - Charles Xavier, Peter Parker

All of my hyperfixations are on men in marvel and they have always been. There's been others I've cycled through, usually based on the newest movie. I even went through a LENGTHY and very in depth K-pop era (don't get me started).

Charles Xavier was a favorite of mine (from X-Men First Class), and I LOVE MCU Peter Parker. I still do. But none hit like Loki did.

There was never THAT feeling, like the fantastical electric feeling.

And I had never felt that feeling again UNTIL I SAW HOBIE (i wanna cry)

My fixation with HOBIE BROWN HOBIE BROWN HOBIE BROWN (sorry I can't say his name only one time im too excited)

In the theatre my jaw genuinely dropped like I'm pretty sure I said 'OH NAH' to myself when i first saw him

Cause he was the prettiest character I've ever seen and I mean that

I didn't recognize what that feeling was until just now like YES, it's the same feeling. And I can't even describe it.

It's like every other character is normal but as soon as you lay eyes on this character for the first time it's like suddenly they're under your skin and curled up in your heart and you can FEEL them and the weight of them PHYSICALLY like not body wise but like astral personhood wise (do I sound unhinged)

And Hobie was just so pretty.

First of all - I didn't know he was black fgsbtgtuiuigs id never heard of spiderpunk

The wicks were what caught me off guard first. I know what wicks are, I've seen them before. But never animated.

And although Miles and Gwen and Pavi all look realistic - Hobie looked real to me. The high cheekbones and broad lips, the raised brow ridge and wide set eyes - he looked different from them, not just in art style but like - I DONT KNOW.

But that's how it is, you know what I mean. There was just something in my brain that was like 'he has meaning to me'. Like 'Idk who this man is, but whatever story he's writing, I'm reading it'.

That's what hyperfixation feels like.

And Hobie in specific held and holds so much more weight for me IN ADDITION.

I started falling out of my Loki phase around Thor: Ragnorok in 2017 - which is to say I was varying degrees of 'obsessed' with Loki for about 5 years.

Around that time, maybe starting in 2015, police brutality in NYC picked up. Me and my friends started getting more radicalized, going to protests, and identifying as communists, anarchists, or both.

One of my favorite things at the time was The Black Panther Party handbook I'd found at a second hand-book store. And for a while the Black Panther Party was a special interest of mine.

It made me really interested in the 70's, the civil rights movement, and the rise of punk that happened at the same time. Around this time, I made my first 'battle jacket' with a patch that said "Black Lives Matter, Bitch." and begged my parents for a pair of doc martens.

I didn't have Hobie back then, but I have him now. And he still resonates.

There was very much a time where I was that homeless, punk teen, angry at police, who wanted to be taken in by my favorite heros.

My admiration for Hobie comes from like - everything he is. Everything he stands for and represents. I don't need Hobie like I would've as a teen. But I know deep down the healing he could bring other people as a comfort character.

Or even in terms of a good political example, or great rep for alt black people. All of it.

That can't really be said for Loki. Or Charles Xavier (even if X-men is a race allegory), or even Peter Parker.

I grew up in NYC all my life, and I LOVE Spider-man, but I never felt Connected to Peter Parker as if we lived in the same city. I never felt something in common with Peter even if he was broke too.

Hobie's just different, y'know.

The Downsides

It's easy to feel really embarrassed by all this - and even now I'm feeling shy even describing how it feels.

Cringe culture gets in your head before you know it. I'm CONSTANTLY telling myself 'no, Hobie would understand that you're neurodivergent and this is you expressing yourself he wouldn't think youre cringe youre not cringe okay' As if my comfort character Hobie Brown thinking I'm cringe is like jksjfkjf the worst thing ever - i can't, i can't with myself.

I genuinely want to hug Hobie more than I want to huge most celebrities or influential real-life people.

I genuinely think hugging him would be more healing to my being than hugging the Pope or the Dhali Lama or something. I admire him and care about him but he's NOT REAL. It's PARASOCIAL And like duh, I know that - i'm grown as fuck.

Sometimes it can genuinely get you down that you care about this character-person and you can't be with them

It's like you miss them. But they're not real and you don't know them. And I know that sounds tragic or bizarre. But it's kinda just weird. It feels weird not in a sad way, but in a 'why brain?? why is this possible in my brain?? huh???' way.

Like...I know it's parasocial, but like it's not like a fan and a youtuber. He's not real, I'm not giving him money or hurting anyone. I know there's nothing to be ashamed of, but it's just WEIRD.

Like... I know my cat isn't a person and mentally I don't see them as a person and can't like analyze them like a full formed person even if I wanted to. But with Hobie - someone who is not a person - my brain can???? Like I've never met him but like... I can imagine a full conversation with him beginning to end in his place of residence I've also never seen before??????? SO WEIRD.

Also theres that thing of him running in the back of my head 85% of the time.

Even if I'm talking or cooking or something, I'm still daydreaming about him - I have ADHD. And during those times if i'm interrupted and someone give me a THIRD thing to do (besides thing 1 and thinking about Hobie) I get irritated. Because now I have less brain room for Hobie stuff.

The Upsides

Now reading all of this you might be like 'sib this sounds like nothing but a problem r u okay' but I PROMISE ITS REAL FUN SOMETIMES

And it's nothing to feel ashamed of!

Now the last part was just a list of downsides, but the upsides are more things I can do because of my hyperfixation on Hobie that makes me happy

Like I said, I daydream a LOT. Like a LOT.

Mainly with OCs You can probably tell how much I like OCs, and how much OCs - even others', mean to me. And usually, my OCs are the ones who I see the in-media universe through. I don't have to think about making an OC much, for me personally they come fully formed. Because of this, while I'm watching movies I begin to have involuntary daydreams of where I can add in an OC, or what they'd be doing. I typically only do this for Marvel though. Hardly DC or any other media other than maybe Batman. For Loki, it was a character named Asdisira Heimdaldottir who I shipped with him. And for Hobie it's Diane Pastors (Disco-Spider).

And although I am in completely control of what these daydreams are, they are vividly realistic, and can come on at different times.

For me, it's while listening to music mostly. But anything can trigger it - from a good text post, to hearing a phrase. And these daydreams are extremely vivid. Most times, you can visibly see when I'm doing it. My eyes will glaze over or start moving as if I'm trying to remember something. Sometimes I may say 'random' phrases. I say lines from the scene I'm in outloud. (Like saying 'How could you!' in an offended tone to myself, if that's what the character in the daydream is saying). I also make facial expressions. I can do it on purpose, like hitting play on a movie and resuming where I left off. Usually, when I do this, I close my eyes. I much prefer to sit and do it without multitasking, but I often do it while doing something else.

These daydreams connect, and arcs/storylines can go on for months/years.

Usually these stories go on for months in IRL time, and span the whole history of the character. For Loki, I probably has Asdisira for 4 years at most. Which is still a LONG time. These arcs can take different pathways, and I may imagine a scene multiple times - in different ways, but usuall the timeline of the oc x canon stays overall the same. Sadly, I almost never write these down. I would pull my hair out and theres not enough time in the world for me to write Diane and Hobie's full narrative down in detail that does it justice. I wanna make a bullet list of their narrative but i dont wanna clog dashes

I can genuinely use them as a comfort character.

I don't need this much now, and nowhere as much as I needed it in high school, but having the ability to daydream vividly at will about a character you feel safe and happy with - it's dope. Sometimes it really helps. There were a lot of times I imagined Loki comforting me or showing me kindness or helping me calm down. And sometimes you can do it just for fun. Like, as a treat. Whenever. I'm imagining Diane and Hobie at a fish n' chip shop right now. It's drizzling outside and it smells like oil and Hobie douses his chips in wayyy to much vinegar. It's like I'm there. Like...I just do that. thats rad as hell. (and I don't know how to describe it if you can't do it but hopefully others know how it is but it's VIVID, like wayyyy more than any dream.)

Literally a walking fact book about them.

I'm smug AS FUCK. I use to love when dudes in high school challenged me about the MCU cause I wore a shirt. Like, oh buddy. Oh pal. Just you fucking wait. I know this character better than you know your own mother - try me hoe. I love reading characters like a book and rewatching scenes, breaking down motives, watching their movements, looking for patterns and drawing connections to real world history, cultures, or psychology. I LOVE watching behavior and personality in the movies, and making conclusions about where they'd come from, reasonably, for the character, and how it affects them outside the scope of the film.

And most of all - It's Free Joy we're almost at the end I promise

This is long as all hell and unlike my other posts there really isn't a neat little character study but uhhh I wanna end with this I guess -

The best part of it, is it's free joy. Literally.

My brain can do something a lot of others can't. I can feel a kind a comfort and understanding with a character, I can entertain myself and come up with amazing stories that have mean to me.

I can make wonderful worlds and all that without lifting a finger, and hangout with my favorite characters just by going

(literally how i be sitting there - professor x headass)

I hoping the fucking multiverse with my mind.

But there's nothing cringe about that. And there's nothing cringe about drawing Hobie for hours on end, by himself or with an oc. There's nothing cringe about thinking about them a lot, or wanting to buy or make a lot of merch.

We aren't hurting anyone. It's not like a celebrity or a youtuber. Nothing we're doing is taboo or anything we're literally just being happy. And squealing about a character we deeply love

Like..Golly if more mfers in this world were squealing like us once a week maybe they'd be happier, you know what I mean. People be walking around mad as hell at the world...like why don't you look at this picture of Hobie and calm down? That's what makes me calm down.

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Anyway uh this is LONG and not connected much to ATSV but if you read down this low THANK YOU so deeply it means a lot. If you relate to this at all I'd love to hear.

And if you think I'm unhinged. Absolutely. But that has nothing to do with this and ain't nothing wrong about it, in the words of megan the stallion... 'ah'.

I leave you with this pic of Hobie goodbye :)

im using my magic autism powers to hold his hand :) now im giving him a hug im having fun

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