#i did some tax stuff today and i had to find a way to pay attention= mace windu drawing

[symeona]

Image description: it's a drawing of Mace Windu from Star Wars. It's from the torso up. He's facing forward with a serious expression. There's lines that criss cross around his face and the drawing, cutting it in sections like tine breaks on glass. On the bottom center there's "Mace Windu Shatter point" written over my signature. The drawing is painted mainly in purples and greens. End of description.

#i did some tax stuff today and i had to find a way to pay attention= mace windu drawing #mace windu #oof i have so many feelings about this freakin dude...... #he reminds me of my mom and i hold him so gently #star wars #my art

[mostlysignssomeportents]

A link-clump demands a linkdump

Cometh the weekend, cometh the linkdump. My daily-ish newsletter includes a section called "Hey look at this," with three short links per day, but sometimes those links get backed up and I need to clean house. Here's the eight previous installments:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

The country code top level domain (ccTLD) for the Caribbean island nation of Anguilla is .ai, and that's turned into millions of dollars worth of royalties as "entrepreneurs" scramble to sprinkle some buzzword-compliant AI stuff on their businesses in the most superficial way possible:

https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2023/08/ai-fever-turns-anguillas-ai-domain-into-a-digital-gold-mine/

All told, .ai domain royalties will account for about ten percent of the country's GDP.

It's actually kind of nice to see Anguilla finding some internet money at long last. Back in the 1990s, when I was a freelance web developer, I got hired to work on the investor website for a publicly traded internet casino based in Anguilla that was a scammy disaster in every conceivable way. The company had been conceived of by people who inherited a modestly successful chain of print-shops and decided to diversify by buying a dormant penny mining stock and relaunching it as an online casino.

But of course, online casinos were illegal nearly everywhere. Not in Anguilla – or at least, that's what the founders told us – which is why they located their servers there, despite the lack of broadband or, indeed, reliable electricity at their data-center. At a certain point, the whole thing started to whiff of a stock swindle, a pump-and-dump where they'd sell off shares in that ex-mining stock to people who knew even less about the internet than they did and skedaddle. I got out, and lost track of them, and a search for their names and business today turns up nothing so I assume that it flamed out before it could ruin any retail investors' lives.

Anguilla is a British Overseas Territory, one of those former British colonies that was drained and then given "independence" by paternalistic imperial administrators half a world away. The country's main industries are tourism and "finance" – which is to say, it's a pearl in the globe-spanning necklace of tax- and corporate-crime-havens the UK established around the world so its most vicious criminals – the hereditary aristocracy – can continue to use Britain's roads and exploit its educated workforce without paying any taxes.

This is the "finance curse," and there are tiny, struggling nations all around the world that live under it. Nick Shaxson dubbed them "Treasure Islands" in his outstanding book of the same name:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9780230341722/treasureislands

I can't imagine that the AI bubble will last forever – anything that can't go on forever eventually stops – and when it does, those .ai domain royalties will dry up. But until then, I salute Anguilla, which has at last found the internet riches that I played a small part in bringing to it in the previous century.

The AI bubble is indeed overdue for a popping, but while the market remains gripped by irrational exuberance, there's lots of weird stuff happening around the edges. Take Inject My PDF, which embeds repeating blocks of invisible text into your resume:

https://kai-greshake.de/posts/inject-my-pdf/

The text is tuned to make resume-sorting Large Language Models identify you as the ideal candidate for the job. It'll even trick the summarizer function into spitting out text that does not appear in any human-readable form on your CV.

Embedding weird stuff into resumes is a hacker tradition. I first encountered it at the Chaos Communications Congress in 2012, when Ang Cui used it as an example in his stellar "Print Me If You Dare" talk:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=njVv7J2azY8

Cui figured out that one way to update the software of a printer was to embed an invisible Postscript instruction in a document that basically said, "everything after this is a firmware update." Then he came up with 100 lines of perl that he hid in documents with names like cv.pdf that would flash the printer when they ran, causing it to probe your LAN for vulnerable PCs and take them over, opening a reverse-shell to his command-and-control server in the cloud. Compromised printers would then refuse to apply future updates from their owners, but would pretend to install them and even update their version numbers to give verisimilitude to the ruse. The only way to exorcise these haunted printers was to send 'em to the landfill. Good times!

Printers are still a dumpster fire, and it's not solely about the intrinsic difficulty of computer security. After all, printer manufacturers have devoted enormous resources to hardening their products against their owners, making it progressively harder to use third-party ink. They're super perverse about it, too – they send "security updates" to your printer that update the printer's security against you – run these updates and your printer downgrades itself by refusing to use the ink you chose for it:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

It's a reminder that what a monopolist thinks of as "security" isn't what you think of as security. Oftentimes, their security is antithetical to your security. That was the case with Web Environment Integrity, a plan by Google to make your phone rat you out to advertisers' servers, revealing any adblocking modifications you might have installed so that ad-serving companies could refuse to talk to you:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

WEI is now dead, thanks to a lot of hueing and crying by people like us:

https://www.theregister.com/2023/11/02/google_abandons_web_environment_integrity/

But the dream of securing Google against its own users lives on. Youtube has embarked on an aggressive campaign of refusing to show videos to people running ad-blockers, triggering an arms-race of ad-blocker-blockers and ad-blocker-blocker-blockers:

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/where-will-the-ad-versus-ad-blocker-arms-race-end/

The folks behind Ublock Origin are racing to keep up with Google's engineers' countermeasures, and there's a single-serving website called "Is uBlock Origin updated to the last Anti-Adblocker YouTube script?" that will give you a realtime, one-word status update:

https://drhyperion451.github.io/does-uBO-bypass-yt/

One in four web users has an ad-blocker, a stat that Doc Searls pithily summarizes as "the biggest boycott in world history":

https://doc.searls.com/2015/09/28/beyond-ad-blocking-the-biggest-boycott-in-human-history/

Zero app users have ad-blockers. That's not because ad-blocking an app is harder than ad-blocking the web – it's because reverse-engineering an app triggers liability under IP laws like Section 1201 of the Digital Millenium Copyright Act, which can put you away for 5 years for a first offense. That's what I mean when I say that "IP is anything that lets a company control its customers, critics or competitors:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

I predicted that apps would open up all kinds of opportunities for abusive, monopolistic conduct back in 2010, and I'm experiencing a mix of sadness and smugness (I assume there's a German word for this emotion) at being so thoroughly vindicated by history:

https://memex.craphound.com/2010/04/01/why-i-wont-buy-an-ipad-and-think-you-shouldnt-either/

The more control a company can exert over its customers, the worse it will be tempted to treat them. These systems of control shift the balance of power within companies, making it harder for internal factions that defend product quality and customer interests to win against the enshittifiers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

The result has been a Great Enshittening, with platforms of all description shifting value from their customers and users to their shareholders, making everything palpably worse. The only bright side is that this has created the political will to do something about it, sparking a wave of bold, muscular antitrust action all over the world.

The Google antitrust case is certainly the most important corporate lawsuit of the century (so far), but Judge Amit Mehta's deference to Google's demands for secrecy has kept the case out of the headlines. I mean, Sam Bankman-Fried is a psychopathic thief, but even so, his trial does not deserve its vastly greater prominence, though, if you haven't heard yet, he's been convicted and will face decades in prison after he exhausts his appeals:

https://newsletter.mollywhite.net/p/sam-bankman-fried-guilty-on-all-charges

The secrecy around Google's trial has relaxed somewhat, and the trickle of revelations emerging from the cracks in the courthouse are fascinating. For the first time, we're able to get a concrete sense of which queries are the most lucrative for Google:

https://www.theverge.com/2023/11/1/23941766/google-antitrust-trial-search-queries-ad-money

The list comes from 2018, but it's still wild. As David Pierce writes in The Verge, the top twenty includes three iPhone-related terms, five insurance queries, and the rest are overshadowed by searches for customer service info for monopolistic services like Xfinity, Uber and Hulu.

All-in-all, we're living through a hell of a moment for piercing the corporate veil. Maybe it's the problem of maintaining secrecy within large companies, or maybe the the rampant mistreatment of even senior executives has led to more leaks and whistleblowing. Either way, we all owe a debt of gratitude to the anonymous leaker who revealed the unbelievable pettiness of former HBO president of programming Casey Bloys, who ordered his underlings to create an army of sock-puppet Twitter accounts to harass TV and movie critics who panned HBO's shows:

https://www.rollingstone.com/tv-movies/tv-movie-features/hbo-casey-bloys-secret-twitter-trolls-tv-critics-leaked-texts-lawsuit-the-idol-1234867722/

These trolling attempts were pathetic, even by the standards of thick-fingered corporate execs. Like, accusing critics who panned the shitty-ass Perry Mason reboot of disrespecting veterans because the fictional Mason's back-story had him storming the beach on D-Day.

The pushback against corporate bullying is everywhere, and of course, the vanguard is the labor movement. Did you hear that the UAW won their strike against the auto-makers, scoring raises for all workers based on the increases in the companies' CEO pay? The UAW isn't done, either! Their incredible new leader, Shawn Fain, has called for a general strike in 2028:

https://www.404media.co/uaw-calls-on-workers-to-line-up-massive-general-strike-for-2028-to-defeat-billionaire-class/

The massive victory for unionized auto-workers has thrown a spotlight on the terrible working conditions and pay for workers at Tesla, a criminal company that has no compunctions about violating labor law to prevent its workers from exercising their legal rights. Over in Sweden, union workers are teaching Tesla a lesson. After the company tried its illegal union-busting playbook on Tesla service centers, the unionized dock-workers issued an ultimatum: respect your workers or face a blockade at Sweden's ports that would block any Tesla from being unloaded into the EU's fifth largest Tesla market:

https://www.wired.com/story/tesla-sweden-strike/

Of course, the real solution to Teslas – and every other kind of car – is to redesign our cities for public transit, walking and cycling, making cars the exception for deliveries, accessibility and other necessities. Transitioning to EVs will make a big dent in the climate emergency, but it won't make our streets any safer – and they keep getting deadlier.

Last summer, my dear old pal Ted Kulczycky got in touch with me to tell me that Talking Heads were going to be all present in public for the first time since the band's breakup, as part of the debut of the newly remastered print of Stop Making Sense, the greatest concert movie of all time. Even better, the show would be in Toronto, my hometown, where Ted and I went to high-school together, at TIFF.

Ted is the only person I know who is more obsessed with Talking Heads than I am, and he started working on tickets for the show while I starting pricing plane tickets. And then, the unthinkable happened: Ted's wife, Serah, got in touch to say that Ted had been run over by a car while getting off of a streetcar, that he was severely injured, and would require multiple surgeries.

But this was Ted, so of course he was still planning to see the show. And he did, getting a day-pass from the hospital and showing up looking like someone from a Kids In The Hall sketch who'd been made up to look like someone who'd been run over by a car:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/53182440282/

In his Globe and Mail article about Ted's experience, Brad Wheeler describes how the whole hospital rallied around Ted to make it possible for him to get to the movie:

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/music/article-how-a-talking-heads-superfan-found-healing-with-the-concert-film-stop/

He also mentions that Ted is working on a book and podcast about Stop Making Sense. I visited Ted in the hospital the day after the gig and we talked about the book and it sounds amazing. Also? The movie was incredible. See it in Imax.

That heartwarming tale of healing through big suits is a pretty good place to wrap up this linkdump, but I want to call your attention to just one more thing before I go: Robin Sloan's Snarkmarket piece about blogging and "stock and flow":

https://snarkmarket.com/2010/4890/

Sloan makes the excellent case that for writers, having a "flow" of short, quick posts builds the audience for a "stock" of longer, more synthetic pieces like books. This has certainly been my experience, but I think it's only part of the story – there are good, non-mercenary reasons for writers to do a lot of "flow." As I wrote in my 2021 essay, "The Memex Method," turning your commonplace book into a database – AKA "blogging" – makes you write better notes to yourself because you know others will see them:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

This, in turn, creates a supersaturated, subconscious solution of fragments that are just waiting to nucleate and crystallize into full-blown novels and nonfiction books and other "stock." That's how I came out of lockdown with nine new books. The next one is The Lost Cause, a hopepunk science fiction novel about the climate whose early fans include Naomi Klein, Rebecca Solnit, Bill McKibben and Kim Stanley Robinson. It's out on November 14:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865939/the-lost-cause

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/05/variegated/#nein

#pluralistic #hbo #astroturfing #sweden #labor #unions #tesla #adblock #ublock #youtube #prompt injection #publishing #robin sloan #linkdumps #linkdump #ai #tlds #anguilla #finance curse #ted Kulczycky #toronto #stop making sense #talking heads

[robotnik-mun]

Some of Sonic Underground’s Good Points

I probably did a post like this aeons ago, but damned if I can find it. Anyway, it’s a pretty well known fact that of all the shows Sonic’s ever had, Underground is easily the least well regarded. 

It’s not difficult to understand why, either. Between a premise that’s incredibly far removed from anyone’s idea of what Sonic is and the weird lack of Tails, even in a world were Underground had top notch writing and animation it was always going to be the red-headed stepchild of the franchise. And sadly, Underground’s writing was usually inconsistent at the best of times, and the jokes made about it’s shoddy animation and weird character designs are the stuff of fandom legend. 

That being said, I do feel that even today the contempt this show receives is a bit much, and while it’s not a great show even on its own merits I don’t think it’s worthless. 

So, I thought I’d mention a few things that I think are actually worthwhile about this show!

Dr. Robotnik’s Premise Is Actually Pretty Interesting

Opening things with Robotnik? Me? It’s more likely than you think!

Alrighty, outdated memes aside, Robotnik’s schtick in this shoe is actually interesting as well as being pretty unique for a show like this. Robotnik, naturally, is the dictator of Mobius as he has been in at least three different pieces of Sonic media by this point. However what makes Underground Robotnik unique is that he functions more like an actual real world dictator- he relies on the support of the nobility to insure his reign, and in return for their support he allows them to basically do whatever so long as they pay their taxes, taxes which explicitly go to building more SwatBots. 

In this regard, this iteration of Robotnik is prehaps the most ‘normal’ of any Eggman/Robotnik out there. He still turns people into robots, sure, but here it is utilized as a punishment for lawbreakers (which you know is pretty broadly applied here) rather than the default fate for anyone unfortunate enough to fall into his grasp. What makes things especially interesting is that one recurring plot point is that Robotnik wants to be the legitimate ruler of Mobius rather than strongarming his way into permanent power. Likewise, multiple episodes bring up the fact he needs to raise money in order to maintain his robot army, in particular ‘Artifact’. It’s actually kind of unique because usually when shows like this have a Supreme Dictator villain, little attention is actually paid to the logistics of how they maintain their power. Underground is unique in that it actually explores how Robotnik’s government actually functions, at least a little, and it’s an interesting detail I feel. 

Sonia and Manic Are Actually Pretty Good 

One of the more controversial aspects of this series was that Sonic has a twin brother and sister this time around, with all three of them being royalty and subjected to prophecy. Just on paper that alone sounds like something so far removed from anyone’s idea of what Sonic is you have to wonder how it was ever conceived. That being said, this isn’t the first series to use the idea of Sonic having siblings- in Japan, the Sonic manga actually gave Sonic (or at least his alter ego, Nicky... long story there) a little sister, and at least one series overview gave Sonic FIVE sisters! As well as being from Nebraska... Sonic is a very weird franchise. 

Alright, point of order! Sonia and Manic, Sonic’s siblings and co-stars. How do they measure up? Honestly... pretty well, all things considered. You’d never guess it, but they’re the recipients of some of the strongest writing in the show. Manic stands out because while he comes out as laid back and more morally lax than his siblings, a recurring element with his character is his desire for a more stable life as well as feeling overshadowed by his brother and sister due to his initial difficulties in mastering his medallion and comparative lack of exception (at least in his mind). Likewise he is the only one to express any kind of cynicism about where they’re going in this conflict, opining how there’s nothing that says they won’t be fighting Robotnik for twenty years without any end in sight. It’s an interesting contrast, given his rougher origins compared to his siblings, having been raised as part of a group of thieves by his foster father. It’s a lot of depth for a guy who sounds stoned out of his mind most of the time. 

And then there’s Sonia! Sonia is remarkable for how much her character develops over the show. Being raised in an upper crust setting and being used to the finer things in life, Sonia initially starts out as someone who has the most trouble adjusting to her new life as a member of the Underground. This, naturally, does a lot to sour people’s perceptions of her given that she comes off as whiny and spoiled... and in fairness, she initially is. Over the course however she grows out of it, gradually shedding her old airs and beginning to take the conflict more and more seriously. It’s a pretty stark contrast to see how she was when the show began and how she is by the end of it, and it is to this show’s credit that she is shown to grow out of her more bratty phase. 

Sonic having siblings might not be to everyone’s taste, and that’s understandable, but under the circumstances? It’s amazing Manic and Sonia actually do as well as they do as characters. 

There Are, In Fact, Pretty Great Episodes

Oh boy if that isn’t damning with faint praise I don’t know what is. But, all the same, it’s true! Yes, most of Underground’s episodes tended to be either unremarkable or outright bad, and that’s kind of unavoidable as the writing tended to vacillate between wanting to be a more serious and story driven show versus something more self-contained, episodic and comedic. In a way it kind of mirrors Archie in that regard. That being said, when this show bothered to make an effort? It could actually give us some pretty good stuff. 

In “Healer” we witness the unique premise of someone promising a cure for Roboticization, and all the troubles that unfurl when this ‘harmless con’ captures the attention of not just Sonic and company, but Robotnik himself. In ‘Bartleby the Prisoner’ we get a look at long standing side character Bartleby finally getting an idea of what Robotnik’s empire is REALLY like for everyone who isn’t a member of the aristocracy when he’s used as a pawn in Robotnik’s latest scheme against the hedgehogs. And in ‘Six is A Crowd’ we are treated to a unique spin on the old ‘Evil Twin’ angle where the Underground is sent to a dimension where Robotnik is the hero and THEY are the villains... only for it to turn out that their ‘evil twins’ are not truly evil, but spoiled and utterly oblivious to just how harmful their actions are to the people of Mobius. 

These are some of the best episodes the series have to offer, and they stand out all the more given the typical level of Underground’s writing. There are others, of course, and a large chunk of them are gonna come up later, but the point is there IS in fact Good Stuff in Underground... even if its relatively few and far between. 

Location, location, location! 

If Underground had one unambiguously, objectively good idea? It was the Camper Van. Sure, calling this thing a ‘van’ is a bit of a stretch when it’s more like a mobile house, but this is easily the best idea that Underground had. Why? Because it allowed Sonic and his siblings to travel all over Mobius, and in doing so it allowed us to travel to multiple locales on the planet. 

This is probably a minor detail compared to the others, and one of the best parts about Underground, I felt, was the fact we got to see our heroes go to so many places and meet so many people all across the planet. One of the big themes of Sonic in general is Sonic just running around and checking places out, and the sheer variety of stages from the Sonic Games help convey this. And in the case of Underground, the Camper Van provides an elegant solution in allowing Sonic and his siblings to travel the world, see the sights, and stick together. I’m being utterly sincere when I say that the Camper Van really is a great idea, because one of the strongest parts of the show was how we actually got to see such a great deal of Mobius while on the show. 

And Then There’s Knuckles

While Underground is pretty infamous for it’s premise and the inclusion of the (usually horrible) song interludes, the one thing that gives it a bit of positive attention is that it includes Knuckles. While it may seem strange to consider now, Knuckles was still fairly new at the time of this show, and as a result this is the only one of the old DiC shows to make use of Knuckles. Which is somewhat ironic, given that this is also the only show to not use Tails... funny how that works out, ain’t it?

And you know what? Knuckles is actually pretty good on this show. Oh sure, his voice isn’t really all that fitting for him, but otherwise Knuckles time on this show is actually pretty stellar. All of the episodes he appears in are among the better episodes on Underground, and his personal arc is actually pretty great to behold. Even after the obligatory ‘gets tricked by the bad guys and gets off on the wrong foot with Sonic’ bit, Knuckles remains wary of directly involving himself in the affairs of the surface due to the fact that his first duty is to the island and the protection of the Chaos Emerald... until circumstances force him into making a difficult choice between his guardianship of the island, his friendship with the hedgehogs, and the greater good of Mobius. 

Knuckles’ appearance is comparatively brief on the show, but its pretty memorable for how much the show is able to fit in for that relatively brief period, and his episodes again are easily among the top tier of the show. 

...on a lesser note, the hints he and Sonia dig each other are just hilarious,  because oh my GOD could you imagine Sonic’s reaction to those two dating? 

Anyway!

This isn’t a post to suggest that Underground is a hidden gem- on the whole, it is in fact a less than stellar show. Multiple aspects of it are poorly done, from the writing to the animation to the character designs. It’s main overreaching arc takes convoluted and sometimes even infuriating steps in order to continue having Aleena play keep away with her kids, and in some cases the more we learn the more questions we wind up having. 

However, as I said, I don’t think this is a value-less show. And I think that it at least deserves some recognition for the things it DID do right, even in the face of all the things it did wrong. 

... if nothing else, the intro is actually pretty bitching as well.

There’s something so, so fitting about the fact the actual best music of this series comes from the intro. 

#Sonic the Hedgehog #Sonic Underground

[flatstarcarcosa]

The thing about Sam is that he’s honest to an infuriating degree. Reese and I used to plan ‘surprise’ parties for each others birthdays with him just for the amusement of watching him try to lie his way out of direct questions about it.

Sorry if this is how he finds out about that, by the way.

It also means he’s direct. There’s never any question about what Sam means, or why he means it. There’s no ambiguity. I don’t remember enough about the world before the Rising to know if that ever bit him in the ass, but in today’s world, it’s an asset.

When he told us about becoming our legal guardian, that was exactly what happened: he told us what the situation was, what our options were, and the idea he’d had. Then he left it up to us to choose. No hard feelings, no strings attached.

The state-mandated therapy wasn’t something any of us chose, and also wasn’t something we could get out of. The first therapist we had didn’t like how dependent Reese and I were, and wanted Sam to put a stop to it. She even made some not-so-vague threats about dragging him to court over it, and making our new life as fucked as possible.

The problem was that she was one of those people that thought the zombies would pass. Even five years since the Rising began, she still insisted that all ‘this stuff’-- she never called it what it was, like doing so is what would make it real, not the corpses in the streets-- would go away and the important thing was making sure we’d be able to blend right back into polite society.

She even started suggesting I should move out, since legally I was well old enough, though that also meant she couldn’t make him make me.

We used to get ice cream after those appointments. I don’t know what kind of weird ass logic he had in his brain that you get the kids ice cream after two hours of them bullshitting their trauma, but that’s what ended up happening.

It’s funny enough now that I almost feel bad about the time I cussed him out about it being stupid. Almost.

He brought it up after a few minutes, being honest and to the point about what games the therapist was playing. I think Reese heard ‘separate’ and proceeded to shut everything else out; they were still defaulting to shutting up, and down, at the slightest chance of something being emotionally taxing.

I asked him what he was going to do about it.

Not, ‘what are we going to do’, but what he was going to do. I knew how the cards were stacked, and that despite being over 18 there were still some things I may not ultimately get a say in. He couldn’t make me leave, but I couldn’t make him let me stay.

Wouldn’t shut me up about it, of course, but at least I knew when fighting was pointless.

He looked at me, and was quiet for a moment.

Then he casually took a spoonful of his coffee ice cream, making a show of digging it out of the cup and said, “I think we should lie about it.”

He banked on the therapist caring more about the illusion of power she had, that if she forced enough people that didn’t have the option of fighting against her to do what she wanted, that it would eventually pay off and she would be proven right when ‘this stuff’ finally ended.

In short, tell her what she wanted to hear and she’d be happy enough with it she wouldn’t figure out we were playing her as much as she was playing us.

At the time, it took me by surprise.

Looking back, it shouldn’t have.

More importantly, it was the first time I remember thinking that maybe he actually did give a shit about us, and this whole situation wasn’t just some way he was trying to assuage whatever guilt he had about his time in the service.

The moral of the story kids, is this: just because someone presents themselves as being more powerful than you doesn’t mean they’re automatically correct. And if the most straight-laced, no-bullshit person you know is suggesting you do the opposite of what the people in power are saying to do, you should listen to them.

Also, coffee ice cream is still shit-tier.

#reese.fic #reelix au: the good the bad & the dead #little blog entry for isaac that popped into my head #didn't do the 'from the blog of' thing bc i suddenly realized it would pop up if you search him and i'm like #[tiktok noise] oh no oh no #anyway obsessed w this unnamed npc therapist we had that was like hmmmm i know these kids are traumatized and have ptsd #and have only been back in civilization for like a year but have you considered forcing them to be normal? #and sam being like 'noted. see you in hell.' #also lmao 'looking back it shouldn't have'. isaac @ the guy he helped shank his own CO: oh right i forgot he bites back-

[purplesurveys]

1683

Do you have the right time set on your microwave?: Our microwave doesn’t include the time on it.

Do you have any old newspaper articles? Why?: No, my family has never been the type to buy newspapers. This reminds me that there used to be a nice old man who used to stand by the entrance of our village, ready to sell newspapers to the cars who drive out every morning. He’s stopped appearing for what’s probably been 2, 3 years now :( I hope he’s still out there and keeping healthy.

Do you have a flat screen tv or just a regular box?: We mostly have flat screens now but the one in our dining room is a much older, box-type TV just because if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. We only ever turn it on when my dad is home because he likes having the evening news on when we have dinner.

Do you have a radar detector for your car?: A...what? I don’t even know what that is haha. I have a dashcam and that’s it.

Have you ever been arrested? For what?: Nope.

Do you know how to change the oil in your car?: Nope. I let my dad do all the maintenance work on my car as he prefers to do it anyway.

Have you taken your shower yet?: I did this morning since I had to drive to work.

Do you like Tootsie Rolls?: I don’t think I’ve ever had one, actually.

Do you have a printer? What kind?: No. We used to have one, but when it started malfunctioning we didn’t feel the need to get a new one since we were reaching that point where no one in the family needed to print stuff constantly anymore.

Are you seeing anybody currently?: Nope.

Do you or have you ever smoked cigarettes?: I have, but I never look for them. I’ll probably be doing so in Thailand, though, since apparently vapes are illegal.

Do you like it when it snows?: I have never experienced snow.

Are your ears pierced?: Yes. Weirdly enough they never closed even though I haven’t worn a pair in 15 years.

Where do you do most of your shopping?: I find shopping so tiring LOL so I do it all online. Shopee or Zalora are my usuals.

Who do you live with?: My family.

What is your most expensive bill?: I’m not required to pay bills but I do hand over a sum to my parents every payday, which is usually my biggest monthly ‘expense,’ if anything.

Do you have a big yard?: I mean it’s not acres-level of big but it is very comfortable for a family of 5.

Do you live in the country or the city?: City.

Do you sleep alone or with someone every night?: Alone.

Did you have a treehouse as a child?: I didn’t. Children’s shows made me want one, but I quickly realized it wasn’t possible because we didn’t even have a tree big and sturdy enough for one.

At what age did you obtain your driver license?: 18.

Do you look in the newspaper for coupons?: Nope. I haven’t opened a newspaper since college and I don’t think ours have coupons either?

Did you get a big tax refund from last year?: No. It was like...literally ₱29, which is apparently more or less 50 cents.

Do you like Slim Jim’s?: That’s the beef jerky, right? The things I learn from wrestling and their brand sponsorships, lmao...anyway, no. Idek what beef jerky is.

Is there someone you would love to punch right now?: Not really.

Did you grow up fast?: Yes, because my childhood home wasn’t the ideal environment for a kid to live in. My mom also never really knew how to...deal with kids, and communicate in a way a child could understand, so I remember being 5 and hyperventilating about the thought of my mom disowning me or spanking me or not talking to me for a week because of little accidents at home. By 9 or 10 I was pretty jaded, and it made me become a nightmare of a child for a while.

What are you favorite kind of chips?: Baked chips in cheese flavor :) Oh and salted egg chips!!

Have you taken any medicine recently? For what?: Nah.

What have you eaten today?: We had leftover lechon manok that my dad kind of reimagined and remade to be some sort of kimchi roasted chicken. It was very delicious.

Did you or are you going to wash your hair today?: I did this morning when I took a shower.

Does the water in your shower take a long time to get warm?: Not at all! It gets all warm and toasty in around 10-15 seconds.

Where did you go today?: I was at the office for most of today.

Are you sleepy right now?: Not particularly but I know I should be going to bed so I can *start* to feel sleepy. It’s past midnight and I’ve still got work tomorrow.

What color is your mousepad?: I don’t use a mouse.

Should you be doing something else at the moment?: Yes - preparing for bed.

Do you like your neighbors?: I don’t know them at all, so I have nothing to say, really. None of them irritate me though.

Do you have bedroom shoes?: Continued from the other night. Technically I have a couple of fluffy slippers I can use around the house but I keep forgetting to use them. When you’ve walked barefoot indoors your entire life it’s easy to forget about the existence of indoor slippers hahaha.

Do you get your eyebrows waxed?: No, I generally don’t care for maintaining my eyebrows. You do you, but I just feel like it’s such a minor, forgettable thing to get invested on.

Has anyone given you flowers recently?: Nope.

Do you work Monday thru Friday?: Yup.

Is there anything you are looking forward to tomorrow?: I’m finally going back to the salon and having my hair dyed to purple just in time for my trip next week.

How many miles does your car have on it?: Ooh I haven’t really paid much attention to it recently actually. I wanna say anywhere around 40-45k? I remember it being 30k when I was in college and just before the pandemic so that’s probably a good guesstimate.

Is your alarm clock set to radio or beep?: I don’t set an alarm. It stresses me out and I’m able to wake up early on my own anyway.

Do you like to go fishing?: I’ve never gone fishing; don’t see the appeal.

Has anyone you know been arrested recently?: Well, no.

Do you have more than 1 email address?: Yeah I have a handful.

Do you think you will have the same job 2 years from now?: I’ve reached a point where it’s pretty hard to tell, honestly. Two years is a big stretch of time and what else in the company can I achieve within that period, anyway? I’d hate to be in the immediate next position, and the position after that since both already start dealing with business development, and I never want to part from a writing-based job. Suffice it to say I need to have a rethink about what I want to do next.

Do you have central heating and air?: No, that’s not a thing here and you’ll 100% only find that in the neighborhoods of the super rich old money families.

Do you speed while driving?: I probably do but I don’t think speeding is taken all that seriously around here since I’ve never seen anyone get pulled over and fined for doing so.

Is there someplace you would rather be right now?: Ugh I would love to be in Bangkok right now. Just around 5 days to go!

Did you build the computer you are using?: No and I’d never be able to do that.

Do you have good computer speakers?: It’s pretty standard but I’ve used newer Macs (like my current work laptop) with much better speakers. I’m just lucky mine haven’t even blown out yet, because I know friends with newer Mac models but their speakers have completely fucked up on them.

Are you waiting on anything at the moment?: Yeah I filed a reimbursement request at work earlier this week and I really need that money to come in before Bangkok lol.

Where is your favorite person?: I don’t have one.

Do you keep track of your debit purchases?: As much as possible I never ever use my card directly to pay because I don’t want to end up a crazy spender.

Do you ever shop at Harris Teeter? I’ve never even heard of that before.

Do you like to burn incense?: No and I don’t like how incense smells so you’ll probably never catch me doing so.

Are there any plants in your house?: Sure, there are a few.

How long does it take you to get to work?: 20-30 minutes if no traffic; around 45 minutes to an hour if there is.

[etchofsqetch]

So I got this app idea and a bunch of notes. It’s social media.. (I know lame right?) but really it’s a dating app but obviously I have something unique or I wouldn’t be here posting this at one am when I should be masturbating like it’s a fucking requirement.. anyways..

I need help creating this app, not because I don’t know what I’m doing, not because I’m stupid; because I honestly value other people and I want to write a love story. I want to work with people and I want to work on a team doing something that really shows our value together.

I’ve heard it said that sports such as football sets the standard for displaying merit. The better you do, the more you are respected and revered. I don’t want to be known as a drug dealer, I want to be known as something closer to who I really am. I think that business is the real test of merit in todays economy. Success is measured in value by that dollar sign, and it takes a lot to build and show that value, while still keeping up with and paying taxes.. lmao!

So I’ve been using plenty of dating apps, and trying them out for real. I’m bi, and trans, so I’ve been able to use them all while still being honest and remaining true to myself #fuckhaters but I’ve been looking at how the apps themselves are made and keeping track of features I like and things I don’t like about the more popular ones. I’ve been banned from using HER I think four maybe five times, (and that’s the one I really like..) I could never stop using Grindr, (too much sqetchy fun if you ask me) and I hate Tinder with a passion, (who knew so many guys would be attracted to me sexually while all the girls swipe left..) needless to say, I’ve learned a lot about myself and what others think of me. It’s nice to know and not have to guess. It doesn’t mean that every woman who walks into the store and sees me thinks “omg, I swiped left on him..” it doesn’t mean I’m one thing or another, my preferences have always been the same, and there’s no “undecided” box to check; although, there should be a box to tick that says “still figuring it out” because that’s closer to the truth than anything.

You must have experienced this much pain to use this app..

So in making this new app I’m being stubborn; because I know I have a great idea and I’ve even shared some of it. I’m honestly surprised it hasn’t been made yet; but the closest thing I’ve found is telegram; but it’s missing the dating aspect and isn’t geared towards making money off of it’s users. I’m not greedy; but, I am hungry and I find it hard to afford rent and food some weeks living in the city. I’m not adverse to putting pornography of myself online either; but I’m not about the hustle that never hits or the grind that never quits, I have a day job and it’s bullshit having to go to work every day and deal with constant hate. So I’m digging my heels in because I don’t want to go to work and I don’t want to deal with life anymore. I can make the app on my own; but, in doing so would completely defeat the purpose for me, and if that’s the case then I should definitely end it. Because I’d rather cut my balls off than go to prison for the rest of my life for something I didn’t do, and that’s why I moved to California. To prove that. To not only myself; but everyone else.

I need help with the graphic design. I need help with ways to create income from an app that anyone should be able to use for free. Simple stuff like that.. I know there are some very creative people on here; but, where’s the community? I mean, am I missing something? Unwritten rules for an old newcomer? Did I not steal enough time online when I was twelve? Anyways.. I wish I had my badge still, then they’d really have a reason to be scared..

The joke’s on them though, I was never trying to win, I was never even playing.. and I’ve wanted to cut my balls off since I was four years old..

#hackers #software development #app ideas #trans pride #bratty switch #fuck haters

[dybdahltravels2022]

Early Christians

August 21 - Part 2. (Absolutely no editing here - I am in a hurry to post while the Internet works and we are between activities - so.. sorry. Move on.... make it work!!!

The Fairy Chimneys come with many legends - but here is my favorite: Long ago the land was inhabited by giants, fairies and men. The giants lived inside the mountains and were know to be easily angered by men. If angered they would shot fire and lava out of the mountains. The fairies were kind and helpful and could often be found helping anyone who needed a little extra help. One day a fairy was working the fields of a one-legged man that was near a cave when a giant emerged for the cave. The fairy was frightened and begged for his mercy, but the giant spoke kindly to her and assured her is was find and would never harm her. After that they met often the in field and soon fell in love. The went to the head of their respective communities and asked for permission to marry but we given a very firm - NO WAY!! Still longing to be together they approached a lesser god who also denied their request. Finally, they opted to go the the Sun Goddess, Hepatu. Hepatu could see that they loved each other and offered them a plan. She could turn the giant into a tufa and the fairy into a pigeon who would forever roost in the inside the tufa - but for this to happen - they must agree to have it happen on the spot. They could never see their families again. The lover agreed and the all powerful Sun Goddess did as she said. This couple became the mother and father of all the tufas and pigeons in the world. And now you know the real story instead of all that silly stuff about volcanic action, minerals and erosion.

Pigeons are indeed revered in Türkiya and if a pigeon poops on you, you it is a lucky sign. (No thank you!). The markets even sell jewelry for pigeons, no kidding! I couldn't even make that up!! The pigeons do live in the tufas but today was NOT about pigeons. It is about the first human inhabitants of these tufas.

tThe tuff made the fairy chimneys more useable than harder materials, and they were repurposed in rather clever ways. One of those ways was to provide shelter, which is what gave humans the chance to turn the fairy chimneys into a network of living quarters, stables, churches, caves, and even stores. The chimneys took on the role of a small town, providing protection from the elements and serving as sheltered gathering places for villagers.

But the homes served as a protection. With the ability to roll large stones in front of entrances and create an underground connection system, it was a rather clever early establishment. It's estimated that roughly 10,000 people would have been able to hide within these connected, hand-built structures. And the first inhabitants were looking for protection from the Romans for the Romans had decided that this new group of people calling themselves Christians and refusing to pay taxes or homage to Rome and had dared to let their sons grow up uncircumcised needed to be eliminated. The date - early 3rd century.

We started the day in some very basic structures that were once monasteries:

As basic as this seemed, it was NOT. There were bore holes that allowed those on the 2nd level and above to hear what was happening on the main level. These smoothly bored holes that were not straight but rather curvy and very long had us asking how they were done. Access to additional levels were through a tunnel system that was twisted and varied in height and would not allow the uniformed Roman soldier to have easy access. There were room with huge boulders - all which would have had to be carved right there- that could be rolled across doors should the tunnels be breached. Kepler who possessed the 2 Fs - Flashlight and flexibility - explored these twisty tunnels and after a short time emerged dust covered but triumphant. Our friends, Joe and Daphne, were also up for the challenge. Joe - BTW - would take any and all challenges. OMG!!

Our friends, Joe and Daphne, were also up for the challenge. Joe - BTW - would take any and all challenges. In the photo below you will see the large tufa in the back with the flag and Joe was the only person in our group who tried and made it to the top. OMG!!

After Sulih showed us the monks home they took us to their lecture hall where the studied and prayer. Again - OMG!!! Keep in mind this was complete rock and was hewed out in the negative leaving only a room that looked like a church. While we were all awed - this turned out to be quite primitive.

Red paint was the only color the monks had - so - ta-da!

From the classroom to the church - just a cave away....

These dwellings are at the very least one thousand seven hundred years old!! I need to say that again!! 1,700+ years old. Make no mistake the elements of mother nature are hard at work and we saw evidence of entire faces of the mounds that had cracked and fallen away - but still so much remains.

We saw places that were only accessible by a rope let down, just like Rapunzel.

But some were accessible by ladder and that is how we reached this.

And while not all who climb the ladder may enter, those with a registered guide may to do - so we were led into the dining hall of the monks that lived there.

This is the table and benches and the little scoop out is the entrance. The head of the monks would have the position of honor under the arch with the painting. Again - tip of the iceberg.

Each dwelling had many tunnels leading to different levels and if you were so inclined you could explore many levels. You can see, I am taking pictures a few stories down.

We spent most of the day exploring Goreme National Park including many churches where no pictures where allowed which is why I have lifted the photos below from the Internet.

Click on the photo to get a full size picture- I hope!

UNBELIEVEABLE!!! This art is over 1000 years old and what is quite incredible is that while some was damaged - most remains - despite who was in control. The area was in the control of the Mongols, the Muslims, the Christians, rinse and repeat. I'm guessing the terrain has helped to protect it.

Of course as the years progressed the art did as well - but these tufa continued to be used for living, protection and worship until shortly after Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. The headline of the Turkish new papers on July 21, 1969 - my 17th birthday - FYI - was something like... "US puts a man on the moon and Turkey has large population still living in caves." Shortly after all the residents of the caves were forced to move out on the national dime and new city and national park was formed. The owners still own their homes and may continue to hand them down to direct descents - but not sell them. We visited the "home" of a lovely couple. (Apparently the wife is not a fan of this place which I would equate like an only family log cabin/cottage.). But the place has been in the husband's family for generations - but they have not children and upon his death the tufa home will become part of the park.

The rugs on the wall keep the place cleaner and insulate during the winter - where heavy snow is common. It was quite an amazing experience.

We are loving Türkiya!!

[kragkokholm39]

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[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 7,339 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: pre-Negan Alexandria Warnings: language, violence (no sexual violence), gore (mentions of injury and blood), sexuality Summary: Daryl and Y/N attempt to repair his bike and get the hell out of the city before anything else goes wrong. A/N: Okay, I SORT OF lied to you when I said this is the last part. There will be a very short Epilogue in the near future, but for now, hold onto your pants... Also, I wrote this entire thing today basically so sorry for any typos! I need to do a re-read and edit in the near future. ENJOY! MUAH.

This is the final part of a series! Read the previous parts on the Master List.

Your name: submit What is this?

“S’gonna work,” Daryl murmured, inspecting his bike. “Ain’t gonna be perfect but it’ll get us the fuck outta here.” He had the needed tools and the replacement tire on the ground beside him. “Gonna take me a bit, but I’ll try to be as fast as I can.”

You shifted anxiously, glancing up and down the alley both ways, your shotgun in hand. Your eyes scanned for any movement but you saw none. “Alright,” you breathed. “I’ll grab the supplies so we’re ready to go.”

Daryl set to work and you disappeared toward the alcove which housed the dumpsters you’d left the supplies and extra gear behind. It had been maybe a minute when Daryl suddenly heard something that sounded like the squeak of a door hinge and then a thud and some rustling of movement. He stood up and strained his hearing. “Y/N?” Nothing. He took a few steps toward the alcove, his hand going to his knife instinctively. His heart was already racing. “Y/N?” he said again.

This time the response was a shuffling sound and you appeared around the corner, but you weren’t alone. His stomach dropped. There was a man with his arm firmly around your neck, forcing your chin up uncomfortably. He was holding you in front of himself like a shield. You had your hands up, palms toward Daryl, and were clearly in pain, a grimace on your face. There was already a red welt appearing on your cheekbone. Anger flared in Daryl’s chest. The man had a handgun pressed to your temple. “Don’t fucking move,” he rasped, his eyes piercing as they glared at Daryl. “Hand away from the knife.” He forced you farther out into the alley and three more men appeared behind him. The door that had been locked when you’d stashed the gear was obviously now a problem… and Daryl knew they’d planned for this exact moment. They’d planned for you both to come back to the bike.

Soon, there was a rifle pointed squarely at Daryl’s chest.

Daryl glared back, his eyes flickering between the men and meeting yours. He was trying his hardest to keep his hands from shaking, clenching them into fists at his sides.

“Well, we’ve got ourselves in a little bit of a pickle now, don’t we?” The man holding you was obviously in charge, at least of this little band of assholes. “Looks like you managed to find yourself a repair and were planning on leaving town without paying taxes,” he quipped. “But you know what they say; you can’t fight city hall.”

So far Daryl had said nothing. He was frozen where he stood, his blue eyes narrowed in a glare. But inside, he was terrified. He’d failed to protect you and get you out of this fucking city before something seriously bad happened. Yet again he was going to fail you. No. He wouldn’t. Not this time. “Let her go,” he growled.

“Wow. Cuttin’ to the chase. I like that,” the man with the gun to your head said, his eyebrows lifting. “Here’s the problem, amigo. You came into my city. My territory. And you tried to leave with a pile of stuff that isn’t yours.”

Daryl’s expression was unreadable.

“So. We did what we had to, to stop you from leaving without paying for what you wanted to take.”

Daryl wanted to argue, but not with you caged against that man, a gun against your temple.

“This is how it’s going to go—you’re gonna run home to your little group, and you’re gonna bring us back food, medicine, clothes—whatever you’ve got that’s worth something these days. When it’s enough,” he shrugged, “I’ll let her go and you can all be on your way. You can’t get something for nothing. Especially now. In the meantime, I’m gonna hang onto her. Call it insurance.”

You were worried these men would follow Daryl back to Alexandria. And there were too many vulnerable people there. And clearly these guys were heavily armed. “Daryl, don’t—” you started, but you were cut off when the arm around your neck tightened. You gripped at it and winced. A moment later, it loosened and you could breathe again. Your head was pounding with your hurried pulse and your cheek felt like it was on fire, sending radiating waves of pain through the entire side of your head and behind your eye. You wondered if the butt of the gun they’d hit you with had fractured your cheekbone. Your vision had gone black, so at minimum you had a good concussion.

“That ain’t happenin’,” Daryl growled. “Let her go and ya can keep me instead.” He slowly pulled his knife from its sheath and tossed it down, putting his hands up. “Just let her go.” Dark thoughts had already entered Daryl’s mind, about the intentions of these men holding you…

The leader smirked and lifted the pistol from your head before shoving you at one of his henchmen, who gripped your arms tightly, fingers digging in and surely leaving bruises. “I don’t think so,” he replied. “Because I can see that fire burning in those eyes of yours right now and you know what that is? That’s motivation. That tells me you are going to run home and come back as fast as you can because you don’t want anything to happen to her… Right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m right.”

If looks could kill, every one of those men would have been dead. Daryl’s blue eyes bored into them, but they all were stoic and unwavering.

The leader gestured with his pistol vaguely. “Now if I were you, I’d fix your bike and hit the road. Because if we have to hang onto her for too long—” He made a tsk tsk tsk sound through his teeth and shook his head. “We don’t need another mouth to feed. Times are tough, amigo.” He turned to his men and spoke to them in rapid Spanish and they began to file out, pushing you roughly ahead. The last one to leave was the one with the rifle fixed squarely on Daryl, and a second after he disappeared from sight into the alcove, Daryl heard the finality of the heavy metal door slamming. “Y/N!” he roared. He rushed to it and tugged forcefully on the handle but already knew it was pointless before his hand had closed on the metal. FUCK! He paced an angry and panicked circle, his mind flooded with so many thoughts it was hard to decipher any of them.

This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t fucking happening.

Inside, you were shoved along down a hallway and up several flights of stairs. You’d counted the landings, and from what you could tell you were on the fourth floor. There were more men inside, conversing in low whispers as you passed or occasionally muttering greetings to the other men. Some whistled at you or laughed and the hair on the back of your neck stood on end, your stomach twisting.

“Hey—Put her in ‘A’. I’ll be there in a minute.” The leader disappeared into another room and you were ushered along forcefully until you were facing a closed door. One man opened it and the other shoved you inside so hard that you stumbled and landed on your hands and knees on the hard floor. You started to feel a little nauseous—but whether from the reality of your situation setting in or the blow to your head you couldn’t tell. Before you could climb to your feet, you felt a boot in the center of your back and you were forced flat onto the ground, your chin hitting the tile hard. Rough hands tugged your arms behind you and bound them.

The coarse fibers on your wrists sent a flashback surging forward in your mind and your panic began to increase. You squeezed your eyes shut as if that would stop the images and sounds rushing forward in your mind’s eye.

You were suddenly hauled up to your feet again and shoved down onto a chair. You were face to face with unfriendly eyes as your ankles were bound uncomfortably to the chair legs.

You felt sweat break out on your hairline and start to drip down your neck. You tried to control your breathing, but the brown eyes in front of you and the unfamiliar face was morphing into the man who had killed your father and tortured you. Reality seemed to be tearing at the seams. The past was bleeding into the present.

Just then the door to the room opened again and the leader stepped in. One of the men beside you hurried over and the two exchanged a rush of harsh whispers, glancing at you several times before the leader commanded “out” and the two men who had bound you left in a hurry. You glared back as the man approached you. He seemed to take in your condition and then grabbed an empty chair and pulled it over with a loud scraping sound, setting it up just in front of you and taking a seat.

“Sorry about your face, bonita,” he said. His tone was quieter, silkier now that you were alone, but you weren’t fooled. “But we had to get you off your guard. I have a feeling you would have put up a good fight.”

He paused like he was waiting for a response but you only stared back at him, the muscle in your jaw tensing.

“I’m Rico,” he said. “My men tell me you’ve been captured before.”

Of course. They’d seen the scars on your wrists. You gulped.

“Don’t worry, preciosa. We won’t hurt you like that unless we have to.”

You stared back at him. “Unless I end up as a mouth you don’t want to feed?” you retorted.

He smiled. “Nah. We can make other arrangements if it comes to that.” But even though he said it, you didn’t believe him. You didn’t doubt that these men were dangerous, and if you weren’t of any use to them, you were disposable. He was just hoping for your compliance. “I had to put some spring in your boyfriend’s step. He is your boyfriend, right? He has to be. The way he was looking at me,” he chuckled in a low voice. “It was like he was dismembering me in his mind piece by piece.” Rico paused and studied your expression. “Just don’t do anything stupid and I’m sure you’ll be out of here in no time.” He stood up abruptly and eyed you again. “You’re looking a little pale. I’ll send some water in. Try not to worry too much. I’m sure your man will make the right choice. You’ll be out of here before you know it.”

With that, he was gone and the door was locking behind him.

You glanced around the room, scanning for a way out, for anything you could use. It was mostly empty except for a few wooden chairs and an old table. You squirmed in your seat to test the strength of your bonds. They had some give to them. They hadn’t tied you too tightly and you thanked yourself for fighting while they bound you. You thought that with enough time you could get your hands free and then untie your ankles.

Shortly, a blond man came in with some water but he managed to spill most of it down your shirt and on your lap, apologizing sarcastically as you glared at him. Once he left and you heard the door latch, you worked your hands in the bindings little by little. You were certain hours had passed and there was no telling when someone would re-enter the room to check on you. Sweat dripped down your neck and you could feel the fibers of the rope chafing the scars you already had encircling your wrists, but you kept going.

Finally, eventually, you slipped one hand out and tugged at the rope around the other. Both hands were free. You bent to untie your feet and wiped the sweat from your forehead with your forearm, spinning in place and searching for anything you’d missed.

There was nothing. Just the few wooden chairs and the old table. Shit. You rushed over to the table and peered underneath. It was an old folding table and one of the parts underneath was loose. You pried at it, tearing your fingernails and fingertips on the metal, until it came loose. It sliced your palm open as you yanked it free, but you hardly felt it. One end was jagged and sharp—it would do for a makeshift weapon if you could surprise the next person who came in. You rushed to the door and pressed your back up against the wall. You were trembling from the adrenaline and fear, but at least the threat of the flashbacks seemed to have lifted since you’d gotten out of the ropes. You had no concept of how long you waited there beside the door, ready to strike at any moment. It felt both like a moment and an eternity and you mind kept drifting to Daryl. You wondered what he was doing… if he was going back to Alexandria to gather a group to come and fight… Surely Rick would want to knock this group out. They were clearly used to preying on desperate people and you didn’t doubt that everything that had happened from the moment the first bullet flew at you and Daryl had been carefully planned and arranged.

Finally, the door opened and the blond man who’d brought you water earlier stepped in. His eyes must have gone straight to the empty chair and the loose ropes.

“What the hell?” he muttered, immediately reaching for the rifle hanging on his shoulder. But it was just then that you lunged forward and jammed the metal piece into the side of his neck. He let out a few gurgling noises and collapsed to the ground, bleeding out and finally going still in a pool of his blood. It was gruesome… but you pushed down your revulsion. You didn’t have a choice. You had to do everything you could to protect yourself and Alexandria.

Another image surging forward in your mind and sent you spinning for a moment—your father in a pool of blood. You clutched your head for a moment and tried to steady yourself. There was no time to falter… You forced in a few breaths and stared at your shaking hand, bloody from the gash in your palm. You squeezed your eyes shut and focused on the sensations you were feeling. The pounding of your heart, the burning in your face… It brought you back and rooted you in the now.

You yanked the rifle from the corpse, an automatic weapon that would definitely do some damage, and then patted down the body. You found a large combat knife on him and a ring of keys. You posted up at the door again and waited—surely someone else was going to come looking for him when he didn’t return.

And you were right.

The door opened again minutes later and two men entered. You immediately dropped one with a round to the chest, but the other spun with his weapon raised and you narrowly avoided being shot as a bullet zipped past your shoulder. You thanked your reflexes and squeezed the trigger again, holding until the second man fell. His foot had caught in the door, leaving it open slightly. You had hoped to do this quietly and just sneak out with as little notice as possible, but that hope was dashed with the first gunshot. You stepped into the hallway as several men rushed out of a room a few doors down the hall. Shit. You had no choice but to open fire on them as they raised their weapons. They fell under the spray of your gunfire. There was yelling and clattering elsewhere in the building and you rushed toward the stairway you’d come up, your heart pounding and panic truly starting to overwhelm you now. This was a bad idea… The gunfire was a problem. Surely every single one of these douchebags was now on high alert. But you were in deep now and there was no going back, only forward… only through.

But it all came to an abrupt end when you realized the door to the stairwell was locked. “Shit. Shit!” You fumbled with the keys you’d taken but your hands were so shaky you could hardly get them into the lock. Had you tried this one? Fuck! It was upside down. Fuck! Shit! You were just about to try another when the door suddenly burst open in your face and knocked you backwards. You landed hard on the floor, the air leaving your lungs in a rush, and the rifle clattering away beside you.

You looked up and saw Rico staring down at you, a dangerous scowl on his face. He was flanked by several more men armed with rifles, all pointed straight at you.

“I told you not to do anything stupid.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl checked left and right one more time and then busted open the window behind him with the stock of his crossbow. Surprisingly, the men had left it lying next to his bike. They probably assumed it was no match for their heavy firepower—and ordinarily they’d be right.

But Daryl wasn’t about to fucking leave you with this group a moment longer than he had to. And he wasn’t going to let them follow him back to Alexandria either. This was ending. Now.

There were a few walkers heading his way as he climbed through the shattered window into the store. Daryl swiftly put them down with his knife and stepped over the bodies. The hardware store had been ransacked, but if he could just scrape together enough supplies… he didn’t need to have more fire power. He just needed to be smart about this.

He gathered what he could and with a few creative hacks, he thought he could pull it off. Now he just had to figure out where exactly they were holding you in that building and the best way to make an entrance…

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl was staring up at the fire escape clinging to the side of the building. Parts of it weren’t in great shape, but it was his only way in. He piled some debris beneath it and climbed on top, jumping and gripping the lowest rung of the ladder, the muscles in his arms straining as he struggled to pull himself up. Then he started the slow and careful climb. Some of the rusty metal of the landings squeaked and groaned beneath his boots alarmingly. He edged around the areas that looked weak, clinging to the railing or stonework of the building façade. Eventually he made it to the highest floor and peered through a dusty window. There were shadowy shapes moving inside aimlessly; a few walkers. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

For the second time that day, he smashed a window with the butt of his crossbow and slipped inside. He fired a bolt into the head of the nearest walker and took down the rest with his knife. The air was stagnant and pungent from the corpses. They’d obviously been trapped up there rotting for a long time. At least this meant he’d landed himself in an unused part of the building. He adjusted the bag on his back and forced in a few deep breaths.

His plan was to simply work his way down, staying quiet as long as possible and putting down as many of these assholes as he could. His heart was racing from the flood of adrenaline and he was already drenched in sweat. He was repeating a silent mantra to himself that you were fine… you had to be. This would be over soon. He was going to get you out and then you would both burn rubber and be back in Alexandria before dark.

Daryl made his way down two floors and saw no one, living or “dead”. The next floor down he could hear hushed voices as he closed the door behind him as quietly as possible. He flattened himself against the wall and readied his bow and knife. He risked a stealthy peak around the door frame and saw two burly looking guys reclined with their boots up, watching some fuzzy old movie on a boxy television set. He steeled himself, stepped out and let a bolt fly, followed by a skillful throw of his knife. Both men were dead almost instantly. The archer continued this way through the building, leaving a trail of bodies behind him. When he found himself on the fifth floor, he sensed that something was different. A careful glance down the long hallway showed a guarded room. There were two men standing watch. And somehow, he knew you were behind that door.

He swiped at the sweat soaking his face and threatening to run into his eyes. It was a long way down the hall so he’d have to be accurate and fast… He burst into the hall and fired a bolt that hit the first guard in the side of the neck. He crumpled. Before the other guard could even fathom what was happening, Daryl was in front of him and landed his knife squarely into the guy’s skull. He hurriedly patted down the bodies and found a small keychain with a few keys. He systematically fitted them into the lock until he could turn the handle and the door pushed open. Sweeping up one of the rifles, Daryl propped the door slightly so he’d be able to hear anyone approaching in the hall, and slipped inside. The room was empty except for a cell at one end that was more like a cage than anything.

“Fuck. No, no, no…” He rushed to the far end and gripped the bars. You were lying on the floor inside, beaten and bloodied. “Y/N! Y/N, wake up!” Panicked tears burned in his eyes and he again fumbled for the keys, repeatedly forcing them into the lock until one gave and turned the mechanism. He thrust the door open and fell to his knees beside you. “Y/N! Wake up! ‘M here,” he said. He could hear the shake in his own voice. He slipped a hand beneath you and cradled your head off the hard floor, sweeping strands of your hair, slick with blood and sticking to your face, out of the way. “Please wake up,” he begged you as loudly as he dared.

You began to rouse, but Daryl’s stomach twisted as your face contorted into a grimace and you struggled for a moment to make your way out from unconsciousness.

“’S’okay. S’alright,” Daryl drawled softly. His voice pulled you out of the crushing black. You had to see if this was real.

It was. His blue eyes were peering down at you, his hand cradling your head and the other clasping your face gently.

He let out a huge breath when your eyes opened. “Thank God,” he muttered to himself, ducking his head for a moment and trying to regain control of his emotions. “Y/N… thank God. Yer okay now. We’re gettin’ outta here.”

“Daryl—” You pushed yourself gingerly into a seated position and tried to focus on his face and the sensation of his hands on you.

“Jesus… what’d those fuckers do to you?” You could hear the agony in his voice as he took in your condition. “‘M so sorry I wasn’t here faster…” he trailed off.

“Don’t,” you said softly, pressing a hand to the side of your face that felt hot and swollen. “I tried to escape,” you explained. “It’s not your fault.”

He shook his head and another wave of anger gripped him. “Can ya walk?”

You nodded. “I think so. But I think—my ribs—” After Rico had caught you and discovered his murdered men, they’d beaten you until you fell unconscious. The last thing you remembered were steeled-toe boots kicking into your body…

Daryl gently clasped your face in both hands. His blue eyes wide and full of regret and fear. “We’re gettin’ ya outta here. C’mon.” He smoothed your hair away from your face again and helped you to your feet. You immediately crumpled over, clutching an arm around your ribs.

“I’m okay,” you said as Daryl supported you. He obviously knew you weren’t. But you got your knees back underneath you and stood, Daryl’s arm around you. He started helping you toward the door and that’s when there was a yell from the hallway. Someone had discovered the bodies of the guards. Clattering below reverberated through the building like alarm bells and Daryl gave you a terrified glance.

You nodded. “It’s okay. Give me one of their guns.”

“Are ya sure? I’ve got a plan—I can—”

“I figured you did, but I can help. Afterall, a little revenge for them beating the shit out of me is in order.”

Daryl dashed to the door and pulled a pistol off one of the bodies, handing it to you. Then you watched him digging in his bag. “C’mon,” he said, tilting his head toward the hall. You followed him out, limping and slow, but you were managing on your own despite the pain rocketing through your body.

“What is that?” you asked, nodding at the canisters he had clutched in either hand. But he quickly pulled the tabs and rolled one down either end of the hallway and thick gray smoke filled the air.

“Figured we could use a little cover. They’ve got the number advantage,” he drawled. Somewhere in the fog, you heard the stairwell door burst open and a rush of confused voices and footsteps clattered out. Among them was the voice of Rico.

Daryl shoved his bandana in your hands and murmured for you to cover your nose and mouth. Then he tilted his head toward the sounds of shuffling and coughing at the end of the hall. What happened next was a blur. Daryl’s knife sang and he loosed several bolts from his bow before you even needed to raise your pistol. The only shot you fired was into a man on the ground to end his suffering.

Despite the face covering you coughed in the thick smoke and the action sent sensations like scalding hot knives into your chest. You leaned heavily against the wall and tried to breathe through it, but Daryl was there in an instant, somehow finding you in the smoke and helping you to the stairwell.

You sucked in deep lungfuls of the clear air and met Daryl’s eyes, which were narrowed beneath a brow heavily furrowed with concern. “I’m okay…” you said again, your breathing tight from the pain that exploded with the expansion of each breath. “I just need a minute…”

Daryl nodded and paced around on the landing for a moment before digging two other homemade smoke bombs out of his pack. He glanced at you again, his eyes darting over the bruises and swelling on your face, the cuts and nicks. “We can go up and go out the way I came in,” he said. “Take the fire escape down. We won’t meet as many of them that way,” he said, clearly worried about your ability to continue the fight.

But you straightened up as best you could and shook your head. “No. If we get out, this is going to happen to someone else.”

He nodded. He wanted these fuck’s dead just as much as you… maybe more because of what they’d done to you. He wanted to grab you and kiss you in that moment, gently but passionately, but the stairwell door on the next lower landing suddenly opened and he only had time to give you a meaningful look, before he dropped the next smoke bomb down.

The two of you continued that way, systematically working lower, sweeping the building until you met no more resistance. By the time you had almost reached the door that led into the alley way, the same one you’d been forced through, you truly thought the leader, Rico, had fled. But when Daryl peeked around the last corner you could tell there was someone waiting. His expression darkened. “It’s him,” he drawled. “He’s got a rifle.”

You nodded and pressed your back into the wall, steeling yourself for this confrontation. But Rico must have heard you.

“You killed my men!” he roared. “Mi familia! And you think you’re just going to walk out of here!” You could hear the pure rage and fury in his voice.

Daryl let out an exhale that was more like a growl. ��Fuck this,” he muttered. He dug around in his pack for the last smoke bomb and pulled the pin, tossing it as far as he could toward the leader. Coughing and sputtering followed immediately and Daryl moved swiftly out into the hall and fired off a spray of rounds into the smoke cloud. You heard a wild yell that was cut short and grabbed Daryl’s arm to stop his progress. The two of you waited as the cloud lazily drifted and dissipated revealing Rico’s still corpse. “Why do all these assholes always think I wanna hear a goddamn monologue,” Daryl growled. He started toward the door, guarded, and your hand slipped from him.

“Be careful,” you called out. Daryl edged forward, withdrawing his knife, and approaching the body cautiously.

He suddenly looked back at you over his shoulder. “He’s gone,” he called. He bent and stuck his knife into Rico’s skull so he wouldn’t turn. A courtesy you weren’t sure you would have given the motherfucker. Daryl rushed back to you where you were leaning up against the wall. It was as if your brain now gave your body permission to feel everything again, and you almost collapsed from a combination of exhaustion and pain, but Daryl was beside you and quickly took your weight.

“Whoa, whoa—Hang on. I gotcha,” he drawled. “We’re almost outta here. S’over,” he murmured. The two of your burst out into the alley and Daryl led you toward the main road and then up another side street where his bike was waiting. “Hang on. Just hang on a sec,” he said, slipping his arm from your and hurriedly strapping down all his gear. You saw that the supplies you’d scavenged were already tied down on the bike. You leaned against the wall and dragged in slow breaths, trying to convince your heart to stop pounding. You didn’t need the adrenaline anymore.

You sensed Daryl standing in front of you again, and you blinked your eyes open. His face was clouded with concern. “I knew you’d get me out,” you said. It hit Daryl hard, like a punch in the chest, because it was the same thing you’d said to him all those years ago… in your other nightmare.

He wrapped his arms around you and held you as tightly as he dared with your injuries, his chin resting over the top of your head, and you clung to him for a moment. Your body starting to feel heavier with each passing moment and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you had nothing left in you. “Let’s go home,” Daryl drawled, gulping back the emotion that had started to well up in his chest again. And the next minute you were both back on his bike, winding your way through the city and turning onto the highway.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You were disoriented when you opened your eyes but you could hear familiar voices beside you and when your vision cleared and sharpened you saw Daryl standing beside you talking in hushed tones with Rick, who looked grim. But both of their faces changed completely when they noticed you stirring.

“Y/N—Doc!” Daryl called out, seizing your hand. You were back home, in Alexandria, in the infirmary. “How—how are ya feelin’?” Daryl asked, pressing your hand between his for a moment before withdrawing with a sideways glance at Rick.

You pushed yourself up so you were sitting and swung your legs over the edge of the bed, wincing because every movement stung or ached or burned. “How’d we get back?” you asked, looking up at the archer. “I remember leaving on your bike and then—”

Rick was the one who answered, his expression serious and tinged with anxiety. “We were comin’ to look for you and Daryl after you’d been gone so long. Met the two of you on the bike on the highway.”

“Oh,” you sighed, nodding a little vaguely. “Wait, you came looking for us?”

“Of course. Me, Glenn, Abraham, and Sasha. You’d been gone two nights. We were worried,” Rick said. You nodded.

“Ya didn’t have anythin’ left after everythin’ so—I put ya in the truck so ya could rest on the way back. Was worried ya’d fall off the back of the bike,” Daryl explained.

You nodded again and met his blue eyes. Despite how your entire body ached, you felt an electric jolt up your back at the softness and worry in Daryl’s eyes. Just then the three of you noticed Siddiq standing nearby. “Good to see you awake,” he said, giving you a kind smile. “How are you feeling?”

You reached up to press a few fingers to your forehead but Daryl’s hand gently caught your wrist and stopped you, instead lacing his fingers with yours. “Careful. Ya got stitches,” he said.

You nodded and looked at Siddiq. “I mean everything hurts, but not as badly as it did before. And I feel a little groggy,” you said. He nodded, his brows contracting.

“That could be the concussions or the painkillers. But I feel alright sending you home as long as you promise to rest,” he said, giving you a severe look.

Rick looked relieved and clasped Daryl’s shoulder briefly. “I’m gonna give everyone the update.” Rick’s eyes drifted to your hand in Daryl’s briefly and a small smile he tried to cover up lit his face as he left in a rush. You felt your heart jump in your chest.

Siddiq caught Daryl’s eyes. “You will make sure she rests, won’t you?”

Daryl ducked his head briefly but nodded. “Ya. I will.”

“Good,” Siddiq said with a small smile. “Take her home and clean her up, but make sure she rests. I’m serious. You have a lot of healing to do.” He carefully removed the IV from your arm and Daryl helped you to your feet.

“Ya ready?” he drawled. You looked up at him and met his blue eyes again and felt another jolt of electricity.

“Yeah,” you nodded. Daryl draped his arm behind you and his hand landed lightly on your lower back.

“If ya need help—”

“I’ve got it,” you said, giving him the best reassuring smile you could. Daryl nodded and walked beside you, but he refused to break contact with you completely. You walked with a slight limp and kept one arm flush against your ribs, wrapped around like it would help stop the ache. “I’m guessing Rick knows…” you said quietly.

“Hmm?” Daryl hummed.

You tilted your head slightly as you looked at him. You hadn’t seen yourself yet, but your face was bruised and swollen in places and Daryl felt an ache between his lungs every time he looked at your injuries. “That his diabolical plan worked,” you said softly.

“Uhh—” Daryl pushed his free hand back through his hair. “He guessed at it, ya. Obviously, he doesn’t know—I mean, we were a little preoccupied with makin’ sure ya were okay and—”

You nodded and then fell silent. Daryl walked you to the porch and then hesitated as he held the door open for you. You glanced over at him and tilted your head toward the threshold. “Come on,” you said quietly. “I—I need you. And not just because I’m gonna need you to patch me up the rest of the way.”

Daryl saw a vulnerability and even a shade of suppressed panic in your eyes. You were still reeling from what had happened and he was certain that it was pulling everything that had happened with JR back to the forefront. He nodded and followed you inside, then helping you up the stairs to the bedroom you’d claimed for yourself. He sat you down on the edge of your bed and anxiously chewed on his bottom lip a moment. “I’mma run ya a hot bath,” he said. You looked up at him and your eyes were wide and a bit glassy.

“You mean you’re gonna run us a hot bath,” you corrected him.

Daryl sighed and nodded as he looked at you, one of his hands reaching out to clasp your face so lightly his fingertips simply felt like a breeze. His thumb traced the soft pillow of your bottom lip and glided over a bruise even there. “If that’s what ya want—” he said.

“Please.”

He nodded and disappeared into the bathroom and you heard the tap turn on. Daryl still felt like he was reeling and he didn’t know what emotion to focus on—relief that you were safe finally, that you were home, disbelief that you and he were… were something after so long, that you wanted this with him—He was nervous and wildly happy at every bit of intimacy, every touch from him that you accepted, every look you sought—but he also felt profoundly guilty that he’d failed, again, to keep you from getting hurt… and this is where his mind finally settled as he watched the water swirl into the deep bathtub.

Your voice broke him out of it. “Daryl?” He stood and hurried back into the bedroom.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“I think you’re going to have to help me get undressed. I can’t hardly raise my arms over my head with—what’s wrong?”

How’d you know? One glance at his expression and you knew. He ducked his head and felt that tightness return to his throat, that constriction that was threatening to strangle his voice.

“Tell me,” you prompted, your voice soft and laced with worry. “What’s the matter?”

Daryl sighed heavily and knelt down in front of you so he could look up into your eyes. “‘M sorry. I—I failed ya. Again… I promised ya ages ago and now—” he broke off, unable to speak any more.

“Hey. Hey—look at me.” Your fingers alighted under his chin and lifted it gently until you could see his blue eyes. “This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do this to me. And you didn’t before either.” He still looked like he was about to be overcome with emotion, guilt and regret. “Daryl—” you struggled for a moment, searching for the right words. “The only thing that matters is that you’ve always come and found me. This world can be… ugly. And cruel. And terrifying! But you’re the one I know who will always look for me. If anything ever goes wrong, even when I was stuck being unfairly, stupidly mad at you, I still knew that you’d be there for me. And I’ve always been right.” Your eyes flitted between his. “This isn’t your fault.”

Daryl pulled in a staggered breath and ducked his head again, but you didn’t give him any time to doubt your words. “Now, there’s a bath in there with hot water waiting for us and my entire body hurts,” you admitted. “And the only thing that’s going to fix it is being in that bath with you. Please?”

The archer steeled himself for one more moment and then looked back up at you and nodded. He never could refuse such a request and he was almost spinning from it, but he pulled himself together and stood up, helping you to your feet gently.

He pressed a hand into the small of your back again and the other clasped your face and came to rest along the graceful curve of your neck, his fingertips in your hair. His eyes searched your face and he sighed again. “I dunno how I’d go on without ya,” he drawled. “Even when ya were mad at me, when we were fightin’… ya were the last thing on my mind at night and the first thing in the mornin’.”

You leaned into his touch. “Same.”

Daryl leaned down and found your lips gently with his and you kissed him back more ardently. “C’mon,” you said softly, resting your hand in the middle of his chest.

You both slipped into the bathroom and Daryl turned off the tap and helped you undress. He felt a pang and constant ache in his heart as more of your skin was revealed to him, painted in angry reds and purples, deep bruising on almost every part of you. But you hardly noticed, not wanting to separate from him for more than the time it took for him to help pull the light cotton of your shirt over your head. He bent and kissed your bare shoulder, his fingers floating over you as you pressed against him. A shiver wracked through you and he nudged you toward the bath. The two of you slipped in together and the warm water engulfed you like silk, a little sting here or there from a cut, but overall bliss. Daryl grabbed a cloth and dipped it into the water, wiping away the remaining smears of blood on your skin, washing away dirt and cleaning every little injury he found. You leaned back against him and shut your eyes. Your muscles finally seemed to let go of their anxious grip on your bones and Daryl’s arms found their way around you, traveling over your curves and angles, dimpling into your softness.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” you asked. He could hear the vulnerability in your voice again and he held you more tightly.

“’Course. If that’s what ya want,” he drawled.

“It is,” you murmured. There was a tense silence and then he saw you encircle one of your wrists with your thumb and index fingers, right over the raised scar. “They tied me up—with rope,” you said suddenly. “I—I couldn’t tell if it was then or… or now.”

Daryl shifted behind you and his lips pressed into your shoulder. You could feel the scratch of the stubble on his face and the sensation was pleasant. “‘S’over. Yer safe.”

“I know. I just… I’m worried I’ll have nightmares again.”

“I’ll be right next to ya. All night.”

You pressed more firmly back against him. You could feel the strength of this man easily, and yet here he was, tending to you with softness you felt you didn’t deserve. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

[yuzukult]

after midnight 05 || jjk & reader

title: after midnight 05 - tonight pairing: jeon jungkook x reader genre: angst, smut, fluff, fwb!au, fuckboy!jk, doctor!reader word count: 6.6k warnings: bad words !! jk mostly just explicit language. no smut. a/n: ruh roh yeah no smut !! i decided to go without it this time because of the ✧plot✧ and wanted to focus more on that!! hope you guys still enjoy and read it without the freaky. :) (also next chapter is the last chapter. bye.)

He likes the colors red and black.

His favorite foods are donuts, grilled pork (wrapped in lettuce, a clove of garlic, a splat of red pepper paste while dipped into that sauce with the sesame oil or the one with the soy sauce), and he enjoys a good combo of the corn dog—half hot dog, half mozzarella cheese—and he rates the cheese pulls out 10; he even writes the name of the store, location, his order, and the ‘cheese pull rating scale’ in the notes of his phone.

He sniffles a lot, something about his nose that makes him do it frequently, but he does this thing where his nose scrunches up and the space between his brows crinkles while a finger does a quick swipe underneath despite nothing coming out.

Apparently, he’s got a black belt in taekwondo (you have yet to ask him to show you some moves), and he’s a ‘pro-gamer’ (his words, not yours). He does this weird thing when he’s focused on something; occasionally bites down the flesh of his bottom lip, or sticks out tongue with a furrow of his brows, only blinking between five minute intervals (you’ve actually timed this). And when he uses the bathroom, he has this strange habit of having to double check to see if he already flushed, even if you tell him that you heard the water go down. He has to watch it himself.

It’s peculiar that you’ve suddenly learned all these things about him, despite just weeks before, you told yourself that you didn’t even know Jungkook like that. The only thing you knew about him was that he’s got this “fuck-it” attitude, but when you uncover that blanket of a reputation that you assumed, he’s… more than just that.

He vaguely mentions that he wants to open a tattoo parlor, but he’s got a bolder, stronger goal of opening his own duck meat restaurant within the next ten years. It’s not fitting to his… vibe, so to speak, the tattoo parlor is more appropriate, but the way his face lights up at the thought of having his own duck meat restaurant is… sweet. Makes him seem less like an asshole.

As much as you resent yourself for admitting this, you’re warming up to the idea of Jungkook being your boyfriend. It’s not impossible, you’re beginning to realize, but it doesn’t help that there’s some hesitance in making a decision as big as that. Jeon Jungkook as your boyfriend? Pft. Sounds crazy.

The trait about Jungkook that you favor is that he’s honest. Even if it’s a rude statement, an opinion that you absolutely do not agree with, and even if it’s completely indecorous, he’s still purely honest. He doesn’t lie, and you know that he might not be lying about that girl that was in his apartment, his reputation still stands.

But sometimes, Jungkook can be honest but you still have no idea what’s going through his head.

You don’t get Jeon Jungkook.

It’s so complicated, yet at the same time, everything he wants and expects is laid out in front of you. He’s like a secret agent, only that he has his tools placed on the table for all the showcasing purposes and you still can’t understand what his plan is.

“When is your sister’s wedding?” He queries one day, lounging on your couch in the living room. He hasn’t probed you for much lately about the relationship, but to be quite fair, you’ve dropped pretty much every guy you’ve had romantic connections with in lieu of just… spending an oddly large amount of time with him instead. “Is it going to be back in your hometown?”

“Mm,” you hum in agreement quietly, paying attention solely on the television and the channels you’re browsing through. “It’s about two weeks from now. Really, I should be going home this weekend to prepare, but the hospital has been busy lately so I’m going to work.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Her wedding is two weeks from now and you’re just telling me?”

You turn to look at him, blinking blankly. “W—Is it supposed to matter?”

“Yeah, I’d like to be your plus one, if you don’t mind. Unless… you were planning on going alone?”

Melting into the couch, you sigh while carding your fingers through your loosened locks. After the last encounter, your family has been blowing up your phone nonstop about the true nature of yours and Jungkook’s relationship. Was he paid to be your date for one weekend? Were the two of you just friends? Did you already scare him and he broke it off? ‘He’s sweet,” you remember your mother saying on the phone one afternoon. ‘Can you try to seem more appealing so he could take your friendship to the next level?’ Because she still doesn’t think that you guys could ever be something serious.

But to be quite frank, you didn’t either. It had nothing to do with you, though, more of Jungkook and the reputation that precedes him. You still had your doubts, especially that night you came to his apartment and saw her there, and although he consistently denies having any relations with her, part of you is a bit… sad about it. As possessive as it sounds, he was supposed to be yours, and the fact that she came into his apartment so easily didn’t sit well in your stomach.

“It’s not that, I just…” you inhale sharply, sucking in your cheeks in thought. “Do you genuinely want to go? Like why do you want to go? I mean, yeah, if you don’t go, it’ll prove everything my family has been theorizing about having a fake relationship, but… I don’t want to force you.”

“I feel like I’m a broken record. I said I’d try to be your boyfriend. So of course I’m going to want to be your date for your sister’s wedding. Plus, I can… see what this wedding hype is that everyone is talking about.”

You snort. “You’ve never been to a wedding?”

“Eh. I have, I just… always tried landing dates on them. So I never really got to enjoy that actual event.”

There’s no harm in bringing him as your date, is there?

There’s harm in everything.

For one, you didn’t expect Jungkook to attract this much attention here. He’s got a suit that you’ve never seen him wear before, hugging his body in all the right places with his hair slicked back with a comma curl brushing against his forehead. Jungkook doesn’t notice you in the crowd, busy keeping himself busy by conversing with some of your relatives, and you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that he stole the breath in your lungs at that very moment. Brows crinkled in curiosity, lips pink like they’ve been stained with strawberry juices paired with a smile that nearly ropes in the hearts of all those around him, this sight of Jungkook from this distance does the same to you.

God, he always looked so good but today, he wasn’t.. Hot, he was more than that. He was… handsome, beautiful—all of the above.

This was bad. This was so bad because you’re sinking in quicksand disguised with the ways of Jeon Jungkook and the thing you least imagined to happen is starting to happen. You need to grab on something, someone, anywhere where there’s a branch of hope to get you out, but you’re in too deep.

You might… actually like Jeon Jungkook.

But before you could get lost in your thoughts, your sister snaps you out of it with a panicked whine. You could hear her through the walls of your house—and although you’re not the maid of honor, the person she picks for it isn’t exactly the most reliable either. She isn’t quite equipped for a pressuring scenario, and well… a wedding is a taxing event.

“Yuri!” She wails, stomping her feet against the carpeted floors of her childhood bedroom. Yuri gets hit with a tsunami of worry washed over her face as Suji turns her head with the scariest expression on her face—like a tiger going after its prey. “I thought I asked you to take care of this!”

“I’m sorry,” she responds, voice quivering as she gets on her knees. You furrow your brows at the motion, unsure what to make of what she might potentially do next. “I’m trying…”

“Suji, what’s happening?”

“There’s a stain on my dress, and Yuri was supposed to make sure it’s in perfect condition!”

“She’s your friend, not your servant. Here—” you gesture one of the bridesmaids over and hand her the key fob to your car. “Grab the tide to-go pen in the glove compartment. We’ll try that first and if that doesn’t work, I’m sure mom has something in the laundry room.”

Suji is huffing and puffing, smoke practically whistling out her ears with her arms crossed over her chest, veil draping over her shoulders and dress dragging along behind her. She’s so pretty today, despite all the anger boiling in her blood, but she looks like an angel from heaven. “Don’t be sad, lil sis. It’s just a little stain. It’ll get stained worse anyways when you walk down the aisle in grass to your future hubby.”

“OK, but this day needs to be perfect. I had a binder that planned everything out since I was in middle school—” Suji is the epitome of what you described as those girls at that age, and she’s currently living the dream of being able to make it happen. “—and it has to be what it looks like. Sure, I upgraded the tacky stuff to find me at my age, but I need it to be… that.”

“It doesn’t have to be that.”

“It does!” She exclaims, a foot slamming into the floor that’s only cushioned to muffle the sound. “If he’s going to be my forever, then today is the only day that I can make this my day.”

“Right, but you also forget that it’s his day too. And not to mention that it’s possibly the only time you’re going to get married, so you want this day to be great. So instead of wasting your time throwing a tantrum like an actual middle schooler, how about we just make this day as lovely as we can and reminisce on the good memories instead of creating bad ones.”

Her tongue pokes the inside of her cheek. “I guess… you’re right. I love him, and I know that he’s the ‘one’ so…” She sighs, shoulders dropping along with the look on her face. “I just want it to be perfect. Imagine our kids in the future, turning the pages of our photo album. I want it to be perfect, to be special—“

“You keep saying ‘perfect’ when in reality, they’re just gonna wanna see their parents happy on their wedding day. They’re not gonna care that their mom has a tiny dirt stain on her dress, or if the flowers aren’t the exact shade of lavender that you wanted. They’re gonna be focused on those smiles plastered on your faces—grinning from ear to ear, big teeth in everyone’s faces.” You steal a seat on the stool beside your sister, fingers fiddling on your lap. “You’re living your dream. Sure, not everything is going to go by the book tonight, but the fact that it’s pretty damn close is good enough.”

She nods; tears begin to well up in her eyes and you groan. “Don’t cry, you’re gonna ruin your makeup!”

“I just—“ She snatches a tissue from a box nearby, dabbing the inner corners of her eyes to catch the tears before they fall. “That was good advice. And… I’ll take you up for it, that is… if you’ll take up on mine.”

Well… that’s different.

“Uh, what do you mean?”

Suji frowns. “I’m your little sister, but I’m not that little and I’m also not that dumb.” You tilt your head in confusion, uncertain where she was leading the conversation. “Remember back a couple months ago, when I came to visit you, my big sis, in the big city, living out her big dreams?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“And, despite your constant denial of being with someone, I still saw that bright look on your face whenever your phone lit up with a specific name that spread across the screen?”

You grimace. “I did not look like that.”

“Well, in comparison to now, I would say that during that time, it was a bit dim because now you look like the brightest star in the sky. I know… I know that you and Jungkook were uh… not really a fling, but not really a couple either.”

Intriguing, because you never showed any signs of this but Suji picked this up? “When you went to work that one day, he came by your place while I was staying there.” Your face drops. “OK, but before you get all pissy, hear me out.”

“Jeon Jungkook stopped by my apartment… as a fuck buddy, while my sister was there.”

“Right but—“

“What the hell!”

“I said listen!” Although you want to counter back, it’s her special day after all, and starting a fight with your sister on her wedding day isn’t the most ideal scenario. “I uh, he might’ve not realized it then, but he’s been smitten with you since then. Well, before, really, since it seemed like it wasn’t the first time he looked that way.”

Annoyed, it’s your turn to cross your arms. “Like what?”

“Like he wanted to impress me because he liked you.”

This is new. You can’t help but snort a laugh, the back of your hand covering your face in utter shock, shaking your head in disbelief at her observation. “Where are you going with this?”

She shrugs, pursing her lips as her eyes skim her bedroom. “That… I’m glad you finally took him in as your boyfriend officially. I know you’ve always advocated for being a career woman, but there’s no harm in being both a career woman and being in love. You don’t have to be those people who are dependent on their significant other, like mom, but you can just be… you when you’re with him. He can take care of you, and you can take care of him. Goes both ways.” Her eyes eventually meet yours. “I see the way he looks at you. He’s not the type of person like mom is, expecting you to toss everything you’ve worked hard for just to be a housewife. He likes you for… you. Potentially even love.”

There’s that l word again, the word that slipped off the tip of your tongue so carelessly during a night of intoxication. You weren’t even that drunk, you have to admit, because it was only a couple shots, but something in you spurred the words out like vomit. Jungkook has yet to confront you about it, and it only makes you feel queasy just thinking about what he’d potentially say.

“I… Maybe, I don’t know,” you sigh, watching outside the window to see the bridesmaid that you sent on a mission run back in a frenzy, probably fearing that your sister has transformed into Bridezilla once more. “Maybe I need a sweeter guy, one that has a decent job, shares a lot of things in common with me, and one day wants to settle.”

Suji furrows her brows. “Jungkook is sweet. When you went to the bathroom the other day, Horny—” Suji clears her throat, eyes scanning the room to confirm that your cousin isn’t there, “—Horny Hyunae tried pulling a move on him and he was quick to just reiterate once more that he’s yours and not hers. He’s sweet, sis, you’re just too scared to see it. And a decent job doesn’t mean he has to be a doctor. Imagine you being with another doctor. You guys would probably rarely meet. Plus, not all couples have to be a replica of each other—wouldn’t that be boring? And… And Jungkook… maybe he’s not confident right now, but if he really wanted to be with you and you wanted to settle, he’d at least take it into consideration. So… why can’t you fully put yourself in a relationship with him and give it a go? Not just use the term ‘boyfriend’ loosely, but… treat him like he’s your boyfriend, because he is.”

Before you could formulate a response, the bridesmaid is already up the stairs, panting as she hands you back the key fob while waving the tide to-go pen. “I got it!”

“There you are,” Jungkook has a glass of champagne in hand, the liquid courage halfway full, with his other hand dug deep into the pockets of his trousers. “I’ve been waiting all this time for you. Met up with your sister?”

“Uh, yeah,” you nod, realizing that the two of you are matching in black attire. You’ve opted for a silky midnight dress, one that follows your silhouette almost tightly, and Jungkook would be lying if he didn’t say that he was watching you the entire time as you made your way toward him. “She was unleashing the demon inside of her because there was a minor stain on her dress. Worked out though, she’s calmer now.”

“Mm,” he hums, mimicking your nod. “Hope you’re not like that on our wedding day.”

You freeze.

There’s something weird about hearing Jungkook say ‘our’ instead of just ‘your’ with the word ‘wedding’ trailing behind it because it’s not… your wedding he’s thinking about, it’s the both of you. The thought of Jungkook standing at the alter, patiently waiting for your appearance down the aisle—fuck, erase erase. You shouldn’t even be thinking about anything of that nature, especially not since you haven’t even claimed Jungkook as your boyfriend officially. It’s too soon. It’s way too soon. He’s still a fuckboy.

Right?

Right.

Or so, you think. He’s different these days, and you say that quite often, but he’s truly been… different. He’s actually been toning down, trying to be less intolerable, but enough that he’s still himself. The other day, he made a flirtatious comment about your ass, but when a passerby complimented a girl standing inside the store, Jungkook glanced for a brief second but didn’t even bat a lash. He didn’t try getting her number, approaching her to compete with the other guy to ‘state his dominance.’ He just… stood by you, holding the menu in hand for you to see more clearly and asked, “are you sure you don’t want to get the spicier one?”

It’s even stranger that the two of you hang out casually now. Before, it’d be a quick booty call, sleep over, and that’s it. Wake up the next morning, shuffle to get your clothes on and make your way to work.

But now, he comes straight after work to your place, offers to either help cook dinner or stop by somewhere to grab something and stays the night.

Who the fuck is this guy?

You definitely need a drink. Eyes zooming directly on the glass in his hand, you don’t hesitate to snatch it and give it a swing. Jungkook isn’t fazed by this, using his now vacant hand to stuff into the other pocket. “I have a scar now from the stab,” he states nonchalantly, inspecting the look on your face. You’re without a doubt troubled, fighting with whatever thoughts it is inside of your head, and he assumes that it’s from your sister being married and not you, so his goal is to create some type of distraction. “I thought you said I wouldn’t get any scars from your stitching.”

“I never said that,” you roll your eyes. “I said it’ll make the scarring results a bit better. Why? You don’t like my work?”

“No, I love your work,” he responds, and that l word haunts you worse than a demon in those horror movies. “I just figured I would try to keep your mind off things by bringing it up.”

“Off what things?”

“You know,” he shrugs. “Your sister is getting married. I know you wanted to get married, and the stigma is that the older sibling is supposed to get married first, and there’s that superstition that if the younger one gets married before the older one, the older one won’t ever get married.”

Is… that what he thinks you’ve been so lost about?

It’s sort of endearing, hearing the way he talks about making attempts to create a shift in conversation so that you’re not feeling conflicted about being at your sister’s wedding. Because in reality, he’s the one occupying your mind. He’s taken over like a plague, infiltrating all your thoughts, to the point that when you’re grabbing boba tea from the shop around the corner for your apartment, your head immediately directs to ‘Is Jungkook over? Does he want a cup?’ And when you know he’d be over for the night, you don’t forget to put that extra towel on the hook in the bathroom for him when he showers. Or even making sure you have a couple water bottles in the fridge because Jungkook prefers to drink water cold than room temperature.

“Oh, I uh, I’m not really so worried about that,” you mention, rubbing your nape awkwardly. “They’re just superstitions.”

“Good, because they are. Your sister is about to get married and I still want to be with you.”

You nearly choke on the champagne, mid-sip and Jungkook rubs your back soothingly. “You alright?”

“Sorry, I just… I wasn’t sure if I heard that right.”

“Yeah, you did. I uh… I still mean what I said, even though this is entirely a new territory for me. I don’t want to say that we technically are boyfriend and girlfriend, but we’re literally at each other’s places everyday, I even have a spare toothbrush sitting on your sink. So… I hope that in comfort, that superstition doesn’t play when it comes to you. I still want to… be with you.”

You don’t get a chance to slip in a response because the music begins to play, and you and Jungkook quickly claim the seats in the front row.

It’s beautiful, you have to admit, all this effort that your sister put into this day has really been worth it. Your childhood home’s backyard doesn’t feel like it today—today, it’s her wedding venue.

The flowers are a beautiful shade of lavender (her favorite color), and they cascade down the armrests of the seats that line the aisle, with matching ribbons that tie around the backings on top of the white cloth that cover the chairs. Her future husband stands at the front, hands probably sweaty and heart racing like he’s just run a marathon. And the way his eyes light up at the sight of your sister, at the other end of the aisle with her arm linked with your dad’s, your heart swells.

The little flower girl that tosses the petals into the air practically dances on her route, and the ring bearer can barely walk without falling (he’s adorable, they have the rings tied to the pillow he’s holding because they predicted this). You can’t help but notice your mom’s face through it all—eyes welling up with tears, smiling so wide with her cheeks close to bursting in happiness and excitement, all while clasping her hands together and constantly gushing with her friends surrounding her. “Oh!” She exclaims, shaking her head. “My lovely daughter is getting married!”

You want to scowl, but you won’t. Today is your sister’s day, not yours, and her happiness was a priority. But the way your mom gazes at your sister dreamily, walking down the aisle with the biggest grin on her face, and her constant probing from the weeks before about how you’re never going to get married at this rate only makes you feel small, despite the fact you made yourself into this independent, strong person. Albeit none of that matters when your mother still looks at you disappointingly.

It’s like Jungkook senses the shift in your emotions, because he rests his hand comfortingly on your thigh, just above the knee, and when your eyes lock, his expression softens.

The ceremony flows well; there’s tears, laughs, and hollers, all supporting the main couple. They say their vows, exchange rings, and end things off with a loving kiss that sparks fireworks into the sky. That look on Suji’s face is filled with infatuation, hopelessly in love with the man in front of her, but the moment you glance at her new husband’s face—it’s a mirror of hers.

You… want that.

Jungkook has mentioned before that maybe these things are just something that you might want but may not truly want for yourself. But seeing your sister have it is only confirmation of it, and part of you… wishes that you had someone like that.

And for the first time, Jungkook comes to mind.

Maybe it’s because he’s sitting next to you, you attempt to reason, albeit he’s always been running through your head. The fact that the two of you had gotten relatively closer these past few weeks, him waiting patiently for a specific label to be presented by you, was adding to more of the reasons why he’s now a perfect candidate versus the old version of himself.

When the reception begins, you shoo Jungkook to find something occupy himself while you lend a hand to your sister and mom with greeting any additional guests that come in.

From his perspective, he feels like a balloon with too much air in it, threatening to burst.

Not that he was gassy, but more like he was filled with… emotion, and impatience, close to rupturing. Especially lately, Jungkook has been rethinking his entire life plan, ever since you decided that it was either date seriously or nothing. Truthfully, he thought that he could convince you otherwise—lead you to wish for an uncommitted relationship, but if he was to confess sincerely… you seemed to have changed his mind.

He saw your relatives chasing the kids around who holler and giggle gleefully, smiles plastered widely on their faces. One of your cousins, Nayeon (if he remembers their name correctly), was running after her toddler daughter around the second floor of your parents’ house after the baby showered, completely in the nude. He saw your grandfather, standing in the corner of the hallway, trying his best to catch the little one but his stomach was too big and he couldn't bend over far enough to grab her.

But then he saw Naeun’s husband; albeit his wife was sweating, hair out of place and completely stressed out by this crazy toddler, his face… exhibits adoration.

“Baby,” he remembers the man calling out to his love, snatching her up into his embrace with a soothing hum. “Go rest up. I’ll get her dressed and ready for bed, yeah?”

Naeun’s shoulders drop, eyes sunken from tiredness. She’s probably been taking care of the baby nonstop, and having to deal with family members in the midst of it, so when her husband stops her, it’s like she’s finally got a second to breathe again. “I—But the baby,”

“Yes, I got her,” he assures her, pressing a kiss on her temple. “I’ll take care of it. Go shower and rest up.”

And for a brief moment, Jungkook thought it was the two of you.

He sees himself, telling you to take a breather, to let him watch over the little ones as you shower. He sees himself, pressing gentle kisses on the crown of your head with an exchanging soft chuckle between the two of you, whispering a brisk ‘I love you’s because the kids are at it again with their crazy shenanigans, bulldozing everything in sight before he can get a chance to keep up with them. He sees himself, that day when your sister is looking up at her now-husband, but instead of your sister, it’s you.

To be quite fair, Jungkook isn’t a hundred percent solid on whether or not he wants this specific future. It’s particularly different from the route he’s always presented to himself, and it’s an uncharted territory for him but one thing he knows for sure is that he wants you.

He wants to see you when he comes home after a day of work, he wants you beside him on weekday nights, snuggling underneath the blanket while on the couch, watching some stupid movie you chose. He favors eating from those take-out boxes or even a nice home cooked meal, but only because you’re with him, despite the fact that there’s not much that the two of you have in common… something about you specifically that has his heart stuttering recently, and being around your family only furthers it.

So when he’s resting his arms on a tall table, beer in hand, blazer unbuttoned and the first few of his dress shirt let loose while faintly listening to some of the men his age that he’s become familiar with at the wedding, he can’t fully focus on anything other than you from across the venue.

Hair let free, cascading over your exposed shoulders, and pretty collarbones out for everyone to see, Jungkook doesn’t think there’s anyone in comparison when it comes to you. The head attached to those graceful shoulders holds so much intelligence, always teaching him something new with each encounter he has with you, and he truly feels grateful to have met someone like you.

“Hey,” one of the dudes calls out, interrupting Jungkook’s dreamy gaze in your direction. “Hottie at 6:00.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue, lazily turning to where the guy points out, along with the other three guys with him. It’s both Horny—Hyunae (he has to remind himself to stop saying that because you keep engraving it into his head) with another one of your relatives (Jungkook can’t keep up with all their names). “Which one?” the one dude with purple hair queries.

“Both,” the original guy says, smirking as he takes another sip of his drink before nudging Jungkook. “You tryna get one and I get the other?”

“Hey, what about me?” the purple hair guy looks at him with a confused expression. “Am I not hot enough?”

“In comparison to him? Nah. I’d rather have him as my wingman. You see the tattoos on his hands? Probably makes those girls’ panties wet in mere seconds.”

Jungkook waves them both off. “Nah, count me out. I got another one I’m targeting.”

The first guy scoffs, putting his drink beside Jungkook, more intrigued by him than the girls now. “Interesting. You have another girl in mind? Who is it? I wanna see.”

Without hesitation, Jungkook gestures to your direction, straightening his posture when he sees you turning, giving him a small wave before going back to the guests again, shaking their hands and giving them your lovely smiles.

“The bride’s sister?”

“Shit, I know her. That’s a stretch.”

He can’t help but let out a laugh, shaking his head at the guys, lifting his beer up in the air. “Wanna see my game? Since you think I’m hot enough to land any girl, right? Watch this.”

With that, he makes his way over to you, and when you turn to him with a smile that’s softer, warmer than the ones you’ve been handing off to the guests, he feels his heart blooming more than all the flowers at the venue. He’s never felt like this before—this thing happening inside of him where his chest is tight, stomach doing flips despite not being nervous about anything, other than just being in close proximity. Have you always been this pretty?

A hand on your waist, you pat his chest comfortingly before resuming back to your activities, and Jungkook turns to give a wink at the guys who stand in awe, mouths dropped at his game.

If they only knew.

He wasn’t the one that caught you. You caught him.

The weekend was nice, you have to admit; spending time with your family (even though they were super judgemental at times) and seeing your sister get happily married was blissful.

But all good things come to an end.

Holding the end of your clipboard against yourself, you’re skimming through the patient’s chart with previous notes made by the doctor, orders on what she should be more cautious about, and directions on how to prevent another instance. Yet, she’s here. In a room in the ER, claiming to have liver issues yet again.

“This is your second time here, Lisa,” you purse your lips, taking a seat on the swivel stool. “What’s up? I thought the last doctor told you to cut your alcohol intake. Even the specialist said the same thing.”

“I did!” She exclaims defensively.

You drop the clipboard onto the tray beside you before crossing your arms, “... so how’d you do that? How much were you drinking instead?”

“What do you mean? I just ran a knife through it while pouring.”

You almost gave yourself a physical facepalm, but your job description doesn’t have ‘make patients feel dumb’ or ‘call them fucking idioits’ in it, unfortunately.

After following the procedures to take care of Lisa, you’ve sent her off to proper care. Leaving her room, you let out a heavy sigh, pumping a couple squirts of hand sanitizer from a bottle that sits at the nurses’ station when you notice Nurse Hyerim peering at you suspiciously. “Uh… yes, Hyerim?”

“So, about Dr. Hyunjin—”

“Mm,” you hum teasingly, resting your forearms against the counter, a smirk tugging on the edges of your lips. “Dr. Hyunjin’s name seems to come out of your mouth quite frequently. Are you going to ask me if I’m going on a date with him again? Just out of curiosity and thirst for drama to share through the grapevine? Or perhaps…” your wag your finger jokingly before pointing at her. “... you’re interested in Dr. Hyunjin and wanna take him out on a date.”

Hyerim is stuttering, words unable to escape from her mouth properly. “I-Uh, I—”

“Mm, if that’s the case, then no, I am not seeing him again, and you’re more than welcome to hit that.”

In disbelief, she puffs a breath of air that blows her hair away from her face. “Wh—What? It’s not even like that! What about you? What happened between the two of you?”

You shrug nonchalantly, playing with the pens in the plastic holder. “Nothing just… you know.”

This time, it’s Nurse Hyerim’s turn to taunt you. “Does this… have to do with that pretty boy from 18B?”

“I mean…” just the thought of Jungkook has your face heated. The two of you haven’t been able to have a proper conversation about what happened the day at the wedding, what he professed, and how you felt in return. “Would it be crazy? You know. For the two of us to be together. Insane, right?”

Hyerim’s confused. “What? You do realize you’re two hot people… right?”

“It’s not even like that.”

“Well, what’s the problem?” She tilts her head, puzzled. “Does he still not want to be your boyfriend?”

“Uh, actually, he wants to date now.”

Hyerim slams her hand on the counter, completely baffled. A couple heads turn and you wince internally. “Are you kidding? No offense doc, you’re hella smart but also very stupid. We’re talking about hottie in 18B here—“ geez, you’re praying no one is currently occupying 18B right now “—the one that has that rep of being a ‘fuckboy’ and I don’t even have to know him to know that. He wants you, bitch you better go for that before someone else snatches him.”

“Did you just call me a bitch?”

“Heat of the moment. You get it.”

“Mm,” you hum because everything Hyerim is saying isn’t new information. “Alright. I’ll… I’ll talk to him tonight. Maybe. We’ll see.”

Jungkook mentions prior to your lunch break that he’ll be over tonight, but “later. gotta take care of some stuff back at my apartment.” And at first, you considered waiting patiently in your living room, wine on the table and maybe in some cute ass lingerie and a silky robe—but why wait when you can just… go to him?

Of course, you’re not insane. It's been chilly recently these nights, so you’re not going to go strutting in lingerie underneath a thin ass robe. But, you’ll sport those jeans he says makes your ass look juicy, and a comfortable long sleeve to get him thinking that nothing will happen at the end of the night. (Spoiler: dirty things are going to happen that night.)

But you’re starting to learn from your mistakes, something that they teach you throughout all of your education career, from preschool up to high school, and even in college. They teach you in books; the life lesson is to learn from your mistakes and try your best not to make them again.

So, when Jungkook opens the door, completely shocked and unsure what to say, you’re left speechless too.

He didn’t lie—you make this very clear, but he wasn’t being entirely candid and open either.

Because that girl that stabbed him—the one that caused the scar in his abdomen, the one that made you be the one to tend to his wounds, is sitting in the dining room, with who you assume is her parents, all dolled up for the occasion while the mother lays the dishes on the glass table.

“What—What’s happening?” That’s all you can say. Well, what else could you say? You’re a doctor. You should keep your composure—acting out only makes you look bad and what if the cops come? A doctor getting arrested?

To be fair—you’re not that intense to warrant a visit from the cops.

But nonetheless, you’re fuming.

“Baby,” he whispers softly, shutting his door behind him to push you out into the hall. “I thought I said we’d meet after I take care of some things.”

“Take care of some bitch like she’s your girlfriend?” What the fuck is this guy talking about? How dense is he? “You got her parents in there too? What is this? Meet-the-boyfriend dinner? Did you come to my place for practice or what?”

“Baby,” Jungkook says again, quieter. “Relax. I actually wanted to talk to you about this tonight.”

“Bullshit—“

“Fuck! Alright, I know it was wrong of me and I should’ve told you earlier, but I thought she was over it and I cut her off, okay? I didn’t know she’d bring her fucking parents here!”

If having question marks above your head was an action that occurred in real life, now would be the time for them to appear. “Huh?”

“Can we talk about this later?” He says, those chocolate pools he calls his eyes are pulling you in, and in mere seconds, you’re already drowning in the sweetness. "I know it sounds insane, but there's a very good reason why I'm being so shady about this. It's not because I don't like you, or that I'm playing you either. I just... this is an embarrassing side of me and I really just want to figure this out before I make... us work."

You suck in your cheeks in defeat. He has a way with words, you admit, but you're starting to feel like he's testing his chances with you. “11:00PM. Sharp. If you’re not at my doorstep by then, you can consider this done.”

← previous chapter || next chapter →​​

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #gyukultfics #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts

[therealvinelle]

I've always wondered this, but what do you think the Cullen's political viewpoints would be, given their individual backgrounds? if vampires don't change after they turn, then surely they would all be extremely racist (especially Jasper). would this not come up at some point? they aren't like the Volturi because the Volturi are too old to care, but the Cullens are young enough that they have been brought up with opinions on stuff like sexism, racism, homophobia and the like.

Oh fuck.

You get an early answer because otherwise I'll just chicken out and delete this one, pretend I never saw it.

UMMM.

Since I'm guessing you meant American political viewpoints, we need a disclaimer. I am not American, and not too knowledgeable about your politics. Not just in the sense that I don't follow the day-to-day drama, but as I am not an American citizen there are several things I don't know, can't know because I've never lived in your country and therefore can't know what the effects of living in a country ruled by American policies is like. What I do know is based off of the news in the foreign section, social media (by which I mean tumblr posts), and Trevor Noah's Daily Show.

I am an outsider looking in.

Which is really rather appropriate, since the Cullens are too.

The Cullens go to high school and college, Carlisle works, they pay taxes, they own real estate, and submerge themselves in American culture. Esme, Edward, Rosalie, Emmett, and Bella are young enough that this is in many ways their world, and apart from timeouts they've more or less spent their entire lives, human and vampire, integrated into American society.

Not fully integrated, mind you, they do what they need to to fit in and get to school or, in Carlisle’s case, to work. They go no further. No extra-curriculars for the kids, no book clubs for Esme, no game nights for Carlisle. They walk parallel to humans, not among us.

In addition to this they're obscenely rich, which puts them another thousand miles from the experiences of your average American. They won't deal with the health system, which means healthcare is a non-issue, they're not going to need welfare or other social programs, unemployment is another non-issue. Name your issue, and the Cullens don't have personal stake in it. Even the climate crisis won't be a problem for them the way it will for us.

What I'm trying to say is, American political issues are a concept to them, not a lived reality. Just like they are for me. So hey, you made a great choice of blog to ask.

I'll also add here that you say the Volturi are too old to care, and I agree- from an ancient's point of view, racism is a matter of "which ethnicity are we hating today?", and it all looks rather arbitrary after a while. Same with every other issue - after a while it all just blends together into "what are the humans fighting over today? Which Christian denomination is the correct one? Huh. Good for them, I guess."

I can't put it any better than this post did, really. The Volturi are real people, humans are nerds and tumblr having Loki discourse. Aro thinks it's delightful and knows entirely too much about Watergate (and let's be real, Loki discourse as well), but the point I wanted to get at is that politics really don't matter to vampires.

And I don't think they matter to the Cullens either.

So, moving on to the next point while regretting I didn't put headlines in this post, I'll just state that I don't think vampires' minds are frozen. Their brains are unable to develop further, and they can never forget anything, but... well, this isn't the post for that, but in order for this to be true of vampires they would barely be sentient. They would not be able to process new impressions, to learn new things, nor to have an independent thought process. Yes, we see vampires in-universe (namely, Edward, who romanticizes himself and vampires) believe they're frozen and can never change, but there is no indication that this is a widespread belief, or even true. Quite the contrary - Carlisle went from a preacher's son who wanted to burn all the demons to living in Demon Capital for decades and then becoming a doctor and making a whole family of demons. Clearly, the guy has had a change in attitude over the years. Jasper, in his years as a newborn army general, slowly grew disenchanted with his life and developed depression. James initially meant to kill Victoria and hunted her across the earth, then became fascinated and changed his mind about it.

Had these people been incapable of change, Carlisle would still be hating demons, Jasper would be in Maria's army, and James would still be hunting Victoria.

It goes to follow, then, that they are able to adapt to new things.

The question is, would they?

Here I finally answer your question.

So, we have these people who don't really have any kind of stake in politics, who keep up to date all the same (or are forcibly kept up to date because high school) and are generally opinionated people.

Where do they then fall, politically?

(And this is where you might want to stop reading, anon, because I'm about to eviscerate these people.)

Alice votes for whoever's gonna win. She also makes a fortune off of betting each election. Trump's 1 to 10 victory in 2016 was a great day to be Alice. MAGA!

The actual policies involved are completely irrelevant, she does this because it's fun. Election means she gets to throw parties. Color coded parties for the Republican and Democratic primaries, and US-themed parties for Election Night! (Foreigner moment right here: I at first wrote "Election wake" before realizing that's not what y'all murricans call it.)

Alice loves politics. Doesn't know the issues, but she sure loves politics.

Bella votes Democrat. She actually knows about the issues, and cares about them. This girl is a Democrat through and through.

Carlisle doesn't vote. I can't imagine it feels right. Outside of faked papers he's not a US citizen, this is meddling in human affairs that he knows don't concern him.

More, this guy has never lived in a democracy.

In life, Carlisle lived under an absolute monarchy that, upon civil war, became an absolute theocracy. From there he learned that vampires live under a total dictatorship.

For the first 150 years of his life, democracy was that funky thing the Athenians did in history books thousands of years ago, no more relevant to him than the Ancient Egyptian monarchy is to me. Then the Americans, and later other European countries started doing this.

Good for them.

There's this mistake often made by those who view history from a... for lack of a better term, a solipsistic standpoint. A belief that the present day is the culmination of all of history. “My society is the best society, the most reasonable society; all the others had it backwards. Thank god we’re living in this enlightened age!”

The faith in our current system of government is one such belief. We (pardon me if this doesn’t apply to everybody reading this post) have grown up in democracies, being told this is the ultimate form of rule, and perhaps that is true - but remember the kings who have told their subjects they had were divine and the best possible ruler based on that. Remember also that most modern democracies haven’t actually been democracies for very long at all, America is the longest standing at some 230 years (not long at all in the grand scope of things) and they have a fracturing two-party system to show for it.

Every society, ever, has been told they’re the greatest, and their system of government the most just. Democracy is only the latest hit.

This is relevant to Carlisle because he’s immortal and decidedly not modern. Democracy has not been installed in him the way it was the rest of the Cullens, Jasper included. To him- well, it’s just not his world. He has no stakes in our human politics, and as he is older than every current democracy and has seen quite a few of them fall, he’s not going to internalize the democratic form of rule the way a modern human has.

I think the concept of voting is foreign to him.

It requires a level of participation in human society that he’s simply not at. He does the bare minimum to appear human so he do the work he loves, but nothing more, and I find that telling.

As it is I think he'd be iffy about his family doing it. He won’t stop them, but in voting they’re... well it’s kind of cheating. They’re not really citizens, none of this will affect them, and by voting they’re drowning out the votes of real human voters. He does not approve.

Edward votes Democrat. He's... well he’s the kind of guy who will oil a girl’s bedroom window so he can more easily watch her sleep without being discovered, justifying it to himself as being okay because if she were to tell him to get lost he’d stop immediately. Same guy is so sure that he’d leave and never return again if she wanted him to, except this is the man who returned to Forks to hang around his singer, knowing there was a significant chance he might kill her. To say nothing of his Madonna/Whore complex, or of the fact that he tried to pimp out his wife twice, and was willing to forcibly abort her child.

This guy is very much in love with chivalry, with being an enlightened and feminist man who supports and respects women, while not understanding the entire point of feminism, which is female liberation.

He votes Democrat because he’s such an enlightened feminist who cares about women’s rights.

Emmett doesn’t care to vote, but if he has to he votes Republican. The guy is from the 1930′s, and has major would-be-the-uncle-who-cracks-racist-jokes-if-he-was-older vibes.

Esme doesn’t vote, that would require getting out of the house.

More, I just... can’t see it. I can’t see her being one to read up on politics and The Issues, period, but if she has to then I doubt she’d be able to decide.

Jasper doesn’t vote. Alice can have her fun, he does not care.

There’s also the whole can of worms regarding the last time he went to bat for American politics.

I imagine he stays out of this.

Renesmée doesn't vote. She has no stock in the human affairs. Who would she vote for, on what grounds? When Bella tries to pull her to the urns, she points out that she's three years old.

Rosalie, guys, I’m sorry, but that girl is definitely gonna vote Republican. Perhaps not right now as it’s become the Trump party of insanity, but the Mitt Romney type of Republicans? Oh yes.

And for the record, yes I imagine she does vote. To step back from politics would be another way she was relinquishing her humanity, and that’s not allowed to happen. So, yes, she goes to the urns, less for the sake of the politics involved and more because like this, she’s still a part of society in some way.

Now, onto why I think she’s Republican, I think it’s both fiscal and social.

This girl was the daughter of a banker who somehow profited off of the Depression, and who then became part of a family with no material needs that would soon become billionaires thanks to Alice. Poverty to Rosalie is a non-issue, as it is I imagine she views it as a much lesser issue than what she’s had to deal with. The humans can pull themselves up by their bootstraps, Rosalie’s infertility is forever.

Rosalie’s empathy is strongest when she’s able to project onto others, and she won’t be able to project onto the less fortunate at all.

Then there’s the fact that the Republican party is all about traditional family values, and pro-life.

Rosalie, a woman from the 1930′s who idolizes her human life and who‘d love nothing more than to get to live out this fantasy, is down for that. And as of Breaking Dawn she’s vocally pro-life, so there’s that.

This all being said I don’t think Rosalie cares to sit down and fully understand these politics she’s voting for, the possible impact they’ll have- that’s not important. What’s important is what voting does for her.

TL;DR: I bet anon regrets asking.

#long post #twilight #twilight vampires #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #politics #history #twilight history #carlisle cullen #alice cullen #bella swan #renesmée cullen #jasper hale #rosalie hale #emmett cullen

[simsadventures]

Gilded: Chapter 1: To Bride or Not to Bride

Mob! Steve x Reader

Summary: Your life is a mess and you need a little help from time to time. But, when somebody proposes a plan to rid you of all your problems all the way to the far future, you’re suddenly not so sure it is worth it. Especially since the plan is proposed to you by the most notorious gangster America has seen since Al Capone: Steve fucking Rogers. 

Warnings: mafia AU, swearing (like, a lot this time), angst, struggles with money, loan-shark, sleazy men, harassing

Word Count: 7969

A/N: It’s finally here! It only took me around 6 months to bring it, and I apologise for the delay, but I hope I will make up for it with introductory this chapter :) Share your thoughts, let me know what you thought and what do you think will happen next :) xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist 

“Just, wait a second,” you said, your brows knitting together as you tried to piece together all the information the man in front of you had just given you. He was gorgeous, there was no question about that, but that wasn’t the issue here. There were many gorgeous people in New York, and you didn’t marry any of them. Yet, that was. 

“You want to marry me. But you still haven’t told me why, so?” You asked for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, and the man just smirked again, playing with his cuffs, never answering to your satisfaction. 

“I told you, honey, what I want, I get, and I decided that I wanted you, so, what is going to be? Are you gonna be a good girl for me or am I gonna have to force you, hm?” He smiled sweetly, but even you knew better. Behind that oh-very-sweet smile, there was venom and a ton of it. You rubbed your temples and plopped down on the nice-looking couch, thinking about what he was proposing. 

2 weeks ago

“Coming!” You yelled through the loud music at the guests seated by the table number 5 where a group of guys was seated, hollering at you every two seconds as if you didn’t hear them the first time. You rolled your eyes at your colleague, who just laughed under her breath as you strode towards the clients. You put on your best fake smile as you approached them, and from the whistles, you assumed they appreciated it. 

“Thank God you came, sweets. We thought you were getting tired of us,” the loudest of them laughed, and the group followed his suit, making your clench your jaw even more. Oh, how you hated this type of men, who had nothing better to do than calling a woman pet-names, making her feel uncomfortable just so his friends could have a laugh and a story to tell. 

“What can I get you, gentleman? Another round of the same?” You asked as sweetly as you could, but it was getting harder by the second as they all eyed you like a piece of raw meat, ready to be devoured. 

“I mean, that would be nice, and could you serve us a piece of that sweet ass of course as well? We’d really appreciate it, pretty face,” the loud guy smirked sleazily, and you fought the urge to vomit in your face. One of the guys made the mistake of actually making a move to swat you across your butt, but your reflexes were quicker. 

You took a step back and breathed in, trying to calm your beating heart. This was, however, nothing new in your line of work, and you just learned to ignore it, or, at best, politely turn them down. Because, as you learned very early on, the manager didn’t appreciate if his “girls” were nasty to his customers. He almost made it sound like you were to provide your bodies with the beers, but you told him straightforwardly that that wouldn’t happen, and if his pub was one of these, you wanted to have nothing to do with it. All you were there to do was to work the evening and night shift to get some extra money on top of your regular job, and that was it. He even made a few remarks how he wanted you all to himself, but you politely declined every time and just tried to ignore it altogether.

“This ass is not for sale, I’m sorry, boys. But, the vodka shots are coming right up,” you tried to give them your best wink but didn’t wait long enough to see if they accepted their loss or not. You genuinely didn’t care. 

The night continued in a similar manner, some people being inappropriate and you just ignoring their behaviour, and some people actually nice, even leaving you a few tips which always made you smile. You were beat when it was 11, and your shift ended, and you were thrilled today wasn’t one of those days when you had to stay there till 4 AM. It was then that people got really disgusting and you even had to resolve to hit a guy this one time because otherwise, you were pretty sure he’d manage to rape you. You sighed at the memory as you continued on your way home, just now remembering you left the tips meant for you in your locker.

Sighing you turned around and walked back towards the bar, and when you were in, you noticed three men in black suits talking to your coworker, who looked stunned and scared at the same time. You cocked a brow at her, and she discreetly shook her head, telling you that you shouldn’t come nearer. 

This time, you really frowned and looked around, but the rest of the pub looked exactly the way you left it, even with the assholes by the fifth table. But you listened to her and took a step back to one of the dark corners, watching what was going on by the bar. It didn’t take long, definitely not longer than 5 minutes before the men turned around and left the building. 

Your coworker looked positively alarmed by now, and you almost ran to her to ask what the fuck did just happen. 

“I have no idea, Y/N. I noticed them by table 10 like an hour ago, but I didn’t pay them any attention because that was Christy’s sector tonight and I had the veranda. And when you left they just came here asking about you,” she breathed out, and it was your turn to look alarmed. 

“The fuck? Why would they ask about me when it was Christy who took care of them?” You screeched, your brain not really comprehending the situation. 

“I have no fucking idea, Y/N. But, like, they asked your name and stuff, and like, if you were a regular waitress here or what. I didn’t want to tell them anything, I swear, but they didn’t take no for an answer. So I just told them your first name, I wouldn’t budge on your last, I promise, and told them that you sometimes worked here but that I didn’t know when was your next shift,” she finished, a little scared of your reaction now, but from the look of those guys, you knew they were bad news and that Anja did the best she could.

“Nah, it’s ok, An. I would do the same. I’m really grateful that you didn’t give them my last name, though, that was really thoughtful of you,” you smiled at her, and it obviously put her at ease as she hugged and hurried back to the veranda, where you both saw a few guests waving that they needed a refill. 

The hell did just happen, and why would three mysterious men ask about you? 

It couldn’t be that they found out, right? No… you made sure all the traces were hidden, forever, so, that wasn’t an option. 

No, you told yourself, there must be another reason for them to ask about you. But you didn’t want to find out. It was a one-time thing, these men were just confused, or one of them liked you or something like that, and you would never see them again. This actually calmed you down enough to start functioning again, and you remembered that you came for something specific, took the money and went straight home. 

“This can’t be happening,” you muttered as you looked over your bills. There was so much to pay and so little money on your account that you actually started to sweat. You worked two jobs and still wasn’t able to afford to live a life where you didn’t have to worry about money. What was more, with the high taxes, your rent, subway card and food you went into red numbers, and that was something you definitely didn’t want. Nobody told you that as an Arts Major, you could still be struggling to stay alive in the city of New York. 

You went over the bills again even though you knew your math was correct and that you didn’t have enough to pay your landlord this month. 

Fuck, you muttered again and considered your options. You could ask your friends, but you didn’t want to bother them since you knew they were struggling as much as you were. You shared your apartment with two of your best friends who you considered a family by now, Caroline and Aidan. And while you knew they would do anything to help you, neither of their jobs paid enough to be able to help you as much as you needed this month. 

Your other option was asking your landlord to give you some more time before more money arrived, but just imagining the conversation gave you goosebumps because you could picture the kind of service he’d want from you, and you’d literally rather go and beg on the street than to sleep with that middle-aged pig. 

So, as you summarised it, the only option remained the loan shark. Tony was actually a nice guy, once you got to know him, and he was nice to you because you always paid precisely what he told you to when he told you to, and never asked too many questions or begged for more time. You were smarter than that, and, besides, you’ve seen too many movies with loan sharks to know what could happen to you. 

The first time you went to him was probably 2 years ago, straight from university when you still thought you could make it big in New York. Well, safe to say that you didn’t make it, and while you remained hopeful, you had bigger problems than becoming a renown painter, like not starving to death and other fun stuff like that. 

You were awfully scared to go to Tony, he had a reputation of being kind of an ass, but people also said that, compared to the other guys in the business, he actually had the fairest demands, and as you had no other choice, you just went to him. And because life was a bitch, you ended up going there on more occasions. Tony was kind enough always to lend even small amounts of money because you really didn’t need 100K. No, you always need like 1 or 2 thousand, and while the other loan sharks turned people like you down, Tony didn’t, and he never wanted more than like 400$ as a return, which seemed quite fair as the other guys always wanted 100% or more. 

Well, Tony, it was, as you sighed looking around your room, thinking how you even got where you were. But there was no time to waste pitying yourself, and so you shot Tony a quick message, as you always did, and to no surprise, he was very quick to respond that you should come by later that afternoon. 

You were just getting ready when Aidan burst through your door. He stopped mid-step, looking at you confusedly because you didn’t tell him you were going somewhere. 

“Got a date or what? You never go out on Saturday afternoon, not if you can help it,” he said sceptically, looking around the room as his eyes landed on the fumbled papers on your table, and the look of realisation hit him. 

“You going to Tony again? Y/N, we told you, we can help you, babe! Let us help just this once, please?” He pleaded with you even though he knew it was useless. 

“C’mon, babe, you know you and Caroline are not making much either, and you’re both glad to get by another month. Tony is like an old friend by now, really. I don’t mind it that much, and it’s definitely a better option than burying you two with me under this pile of shit,” you huffed as you finished applying mascara, but you didn’t even check yourself in the mirror, really not caring that much how you looked. You went to Manhattan just to meet Tony and would go straight back, quick mission, in and out. 

“You need to find a better job, Y/N,” Aidan smirked at you, and you just laughed because you both knew it was pretty much impossible, especially since you loved your day job with the only issue that it paid like shit. 

“You know this is my chance to be close to art and I really want it. I mean, it could happen that they promote me from being a receptionist to like, I dunno, being a secretary to one of the curators of the gallery, right?” 

He just huffed and kissed the top of your head, striding towards the door. It was only then that you noticed he was dressed to go out as well. 

“And where are you going, mister?” You asked with a mother-like tone, and he just laughed, turning around as if he was caught in the act. 

“So, you remember John?” He asked, sitting on your bed, and you actually laughed out loud at him. 

“Which one? I mean, there has been so many Johns and Peters that I swear to God I’m starting to think there are only men called John and Peter in the whole fucking New York. So, more info, babe, please,” you scooted to him and listened to which John it actually was he was meeting and was pretty excited about this. This was John the Ballet dancer, and he looked really nice, so far. 

John the Fake Mobster was a lying bastard, John the Hairdresser wanted Aidan for just that one thing but would never admit it, and then you didn’t even have John-the for the guys because they were all just idiots who didn’t see your best friend for what he was: an amazing, although a little extra person with a very good heart, great sense of humour and amazing hair. 

“Alright, well, you know the drill. Keep your phone on data so we can use Find your Friend if needed, keep your eyes open for anything sketchy going on, but, most importantly, enjoy yourself, babe. I’ll see you tonight,” you hugged him tightly and walked out of the apartment and into the busy streets. 

If it were all up to you, you’d live in a secluded place, somewhere in the north probably, like outside Seattle, where you’d have a lovely little house, maybe by a river or by the ocean or something, where you’d have enough inspiration for your art and where you wouldn’t be annoyed by the little things, like the car horns blaring all the way to the night, people shouting underneath your bedroom’s window, and little things like that. 

But life was not a factory for fulfilled wishes, and you had to endure another day trying to make it in New York. You thought about all of this as you walked down the street to where you knew you could find Tony. You weren’t happy that you had to go to him, again, but you also knew that you didn’t need to worry anymore. You would have the money for your landlord by the end of the week, and when the gallery paid you, you would pay Tony back. Again. 

“If it isn’t my favourite girl!” You heard a familiar voice hollering from the shop, and you laughed lightly as you walked into the pawnshop Tony had set up in the lower Manhattan. 

“Hello to you too, Tony. Today a yellow day, or what?” You greeted him as you looked at his outfit, which was just a canary yellow tracksuit and a matching hat. He looked like a character from a bad movie, but you knew better than to say anything like that. 

“Yellow is very classy and trendy, thank you very much! Yesterday I wore this really nice green velvet tracksuit, and you should have seen some ladies walking by, they almost ate me with their eyes! I swear!” He added as he saw you stifling a laugh, but you just nodded in fake understanding, and both of you shared a relaxed laugh. 

“So, what can I do for you today, sweetheart?” He drawled, and you shuffled on the spot, always feeling slightly uncomfortable when it came to this part. 

“I need a thousand this week. Ton. I’ve been working my ass off, but the bills keep building up, and every time I think I’m out of it and I can live normally, there is always something holding me back,” you sighed, scratching your arms which was a nervous habit of yours that Tony grew quite fond of. 

He was almost sorry for saying the next thing, but this was way above his pay grade, and while he really did take some liking to you, and he would always give you enough time to pay him off, he knew who he couldn’t piss off. 

“Listen, Y/N, I have a proposal for you,” Tony started, and you frowned, not really knowing where this was going, but from the look on Tony’s face, you could tell it was nothing good. 

“There is somebody who would like to get to know you, and he has a proposal for you that he believes you can’t refuse. I don’t know any specifics, I just know he is willing to pay you a lot of money, and I’m talking thousands and thousands, Y/N. He said that nothing sexual would be involved because I told him that if he was looking for a one night stand, you weren’t his girl, but he assured me that this wasn’t it. He would like to meet with you and tell you all the details if you let him. And before you say no, Y/N, think about it. All you gotta do now is to meet him and listen to him, and he is one of those guys who don’t take no for an answer,” Tony finished, and while you saw it pained him to give you the message, you were too stunned to care. 

“What the hell are you talking about, Tony? Is this some kind of a sick joke? Like, did this guy tell you he wanted to talk to me specifically or just a girl desperate enough to come here?” You blurted, still not getting what he was about. 

“He asked for you, sweetie. I don’t know how, but he knew you’d come and told me when you did to give you the message and give you his address. Which is here,” he said, handing you a piece of paper with an address and a date with the time written on it, “and he told me that if you came and agreed to his plan, you wouldn’t have to worry about money this week or any other week. It could be your chance, Y/N. Look, the guy is extremely powerful, so, please, just go and meet him, and you’ll see, ok?” He was scared, and it made you scoff out loud. 

Great, so a loan shark was giving you a message to meet some mysterious, powerful asshole who wouldn’t take no for an answer and who probably stalked you as he knew you would be coming to Tony sooner or later. Just great, really. 

“It seems I don’t really have a choice, do I? Sheesh, Tony, at least tell me who this guy is and like how scared I should be. You gotta give me something because I can’t just go to some random house and be totally ok with it. Nobody can’t expect me to do so,” you pointed out, and Tony nodded in understanding. 

“Totally, yeah. I even asked if I should come with you, but I was told you should be alone. You should be alert, let’s put it that way. If I were you, I’d really think before I speak, because this guy doesn’t take anything lightly. And I think it would be best if you didn’t know his name, Y/N. Just… he doesn’t want to hurt you, all he wants to do is speak to you, so please, just do it,” Tony finished just as some customer came into the shop. 

You waited patiently because the conversation was far from over, but you knew better than to start shit in front of some stranger. Tony was evidently scared shitless of the guy, and it only fuelled your already growing anxiety. Tony was determined not to share too much information with you, but you didn’t understand why. Why could you not at least know the guy’s name? Who could it be? 

Your brain took a detour to a few nights ago back at the pub where you saw the men asking about you, and a cold sweat broke on your skin. It must have been connected, there was no doubt in your mind about that, and it filled you with so much dread you actually had to catch your right hand with your left to stop yourself from shaking violently. 

The doorbell rang signalling the customer left, and your eyes gazed at Tony, who was already staring at you apologetically. 

“And what about the money, Tony? It’s Saturday, and I need to pay my rent by Friday next week. Nice of the guy, whoever the fuck he is, that he wants to see me, but he won’t if I’m on a fucking street next weekend,” you seethed, and Tony was quick to walk around the counter behind which he was standing this whole time and walked closer to you. 

“He wants to see you on Wednesday, Y/N, and he specifically told me not to lend you any money, that he would take care of it. Whatever the fuck it means.”

“The fuck? I don’t even know his fucking name, and he will stop me from getting money to survive? What the actual hell, Tony? You can’t be serious right now,” you cried out in utter desperation because none of this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to come, chat a little with the goatee man, get the money and walk back home, where you’d watch some stupid TV show and drink shitty wine. 

But no, of all the people living in New York this shit must be happening to you. As you didn’t have enough on your fucking plate as was, some mysterious fucker had to be interested in you for whatever reason, and he wouldn’t let you live without talking to him first. 

“Can’t you just call him and tell him that I want to have nothing to do with him?” You asked when you felt calm enough to talk again. You didn’t even know whether you were scared or desperate or angry, but at best, you were feeling a mix of all these and some more, that was for sure. 

“No can do, sweetie, but I promise it will be alright, ok? You’re a strong one, I know that and whatever he wants from you, you can either give or can talk to him,” Tony smiled sweetly, and while you knew he was full of bullshit you let it slide because you just didn’t have it in you to fight with him when he was clearly just the messenger. Whoever wanted to speak to you, however, he would hear it from you because where were we that a guy just asks for a girl and the whole of New York delivers her to him on a silver platter?

Wednesday 

“You gotta be kidding me, Y/N. Are you seriously considering going there? For all you know it might be some elaborate trap and somebody’s gonna jump you and kill you in some dark alley,” Caroline screeched at you as she saw you getting ready after you came home from work. 

You had to ask for a night off from the pub since mister nobody wanted to meet you on your night of work. But you knew you couldn’t say no. Whoever it was, Tony was afraid of him, and Tony was a tough guy. And not that you wouldn’t be brave, but your bravery was mostly concentrated on being able to throw a spider out of the apartment or walk the corridor with the lights out, not really crossing some powerful guy who could do God-knows-what to you if you didn’t come. 

“C’mon, guys. You know I gotta do it. And I honestly think if they wanted to kill me, they would have already done it,” you muttered, trying to pick something to wear, that wasn’t too revealing, but you also didn’t want to go wherever you were going in a pair of baggy sweatpants you were currently rocking. 

“But like, what if they want to make a personal slave out of you, huh? Like, cuff you to a ceiling and serve them with your body, like a personal kind of slave, you know what I mean? You were not made to be strapped to a ceiling, babe,” Aidan panicked, and you actually had to laugh. 

“Your imagination never ceases to astonish me, Aid. Or are you speaking from personal experience?” You smirked as both you and Caroline laughed out loud at Aidan’s expression of utter disgust. 

“You two are disgusting, and I hate you, but that doesn’t change the fact you still don’t know where the fuck you’re going,” Aidan countered and you rolled your eyes at him. 

“I’ll keep my data on so you can see me this whole time, and if I don’t call you by 9 PM you can send the cops there, deal?” 

They both nodded in agreement, knowing this was the best they were getting. You were glad you had them in your life and that you had people caring enough to try and stop you from doing something stupid, but something in your told you that your life would be even worse if you didn’t go. At least this way you’d know the whole story, and you would be able to make an educated decision based on all the variables. 

“A’ight, but if anything sketchy happens, you run, ok? We can figure out the money, but we can’t figure out shit if you’re not here with us,” Caroline reminded you, and you nodded solemnly. 

God, you just hoped you weren’t making a mistake by listening to Tony. He even shot you a message in the afternoon, reminding you to go there because if you didn’t, it could end up badly for both of you. And it was actually one of the decisive arguments in the whole thing, surprisingly. You didn’t want anything happening to Tony, especially not because of you and your decisions, and so you just told yourself to suck it and prepared for the evening. 

You really couldn’t afford the cab, so you had to leave super early to be at the given address at precisely 7 PM. You also grabbed the book you were currently reading, Kim Stanley Robinson’s New York 2140, so that the ride to Manhattan wouldn’t be as dull and dreadful. You could think of the utopian future he depicts rather than thinking of your journey to the lion’s den, and that was the most promising image you created in your head about the place where you were headed. 

Not that you didn’t try to find the place on Google maps, but all the buildings on the address looked the same, and, actually, quite nice, so you had no idea what you were getting yourself into. 

Meanwhile, Tony texted you again since you didn’t reply to his previous text, and this time you took the time to craft a message telling him that yes, you were indeed headed to the manor and he didn’t need to worry about his own neck because you wouldn’t let others be hurt because of your incompetence or your cowardice. 

You knew you were getting off on Chambers St station and you actually took the time to think how many people living in Tribeca had to take the subway. The answer was, very obviously, zero, as the majority of the people in the subway were either passing or were clothed in a way you knew they worked in either one of the restaurants there or as a help. And you felt like one of them, because you too didn’t live in the wealthiest village in New York, and you too were going there mainly for business. Well, at least you hope you did. 

Checking every house number when you got to the street you were supposed to meet the mysterious guy at, you tried to find where exactly was the bat cave, and when you saw the number 112, you knew you found it. 

Your breath came in ragged huffs as you tried to gather the last remnants of your bravery as you walked up the stairs and buzzed on the door. Your head was spinning lightly, and you actually had to lean against the wall beside you to regain your composure. 

The door soon revealed a massive man dressed in a black turtleneck and a pair of black jeans, and you were actually quite surprised not to see him with sunglasses and an earpiece. If the situation weren’t so tense, you’d probably joke about it, but as it was, you just followed his lead as he beckoned you inside. 

“Miss Y/L/N, I presume? I need to see your phone and your belongings, ma’am,” he stated, and you raised a brow at him. 

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a standard procedure, ma’am. Everybody here to see the boss needs to be checked, just in case,” he stated, leaving no room for discussion, and while you sighed exasperatedly, you still handed him your bag and made a point by fishing out the phone and shoving it in his outstretched hand. He took a quick look through your belongings, pushing it against what you assumed was some kind of a metal detector before he pulled out another device. This looked like a big phone, and he scanned your bag once again. 

“What is that?” You asked, unable to stop your curiosity. 

“Checking if you’re not bugged,” he answered matter-of-factly as he continued before he put the device down, clearly not finding anything. Where would you even get a bug, and why would you do it? You rolled your eyes inwardly but kept a straight face in front of the man, just in case he was watching. Which he was, as you found out by him waving in front of your face and showing you to follow him. 

You braced yourself for whatever was awaiting upstairs and obediently walked behind him. 

As you walked through the house, you got the impression that whoever lived there was wealthy, but that kind that didn’t really put on a flashy show. There were no chandeliers, no heavy curtains and stuff you pretty much imagined this place would look like and that image had nothing to do with the Beast and the Beauty dance room, nothing at all. 

But this was… modest. Everything was very contemporary, some prominent brick here and there with mostly grey floors and the furniture was most definitely customary but, again, it was plain yet luxurious. You assumed that’s how the really rich people lived. They knew they had the money, and the people around them knew it as well, so there was no need for diamond stairs and a golden toilet. 

A few names surged from memory as you heard your coworkers discuss the wealthy New Yorkers, but you didn’t want to assume anything before you actually saw the person, so you just walked by the halls before the man stopped in front one of the rooms and quietly knocked. 

It was not surprising when another man dressed exactly like the guy leading you appeared from the room and took a quick look at you before he said something to whoever was behind him. When the affirmative came that you could indeed go in there, they shoved the door open and what you assumed was a living room appeared in front of you. It corresponded with the whole house, but your attention was caught by one specific thing. Your brain had its own world, and when you saw one of Tunji Adeniyi-Jones’s paintings from his last year’s exhibit, you almost fainted. He was your favourite contemporary artist. And seeing his work outside of the gallery was practically an otherworldly feeling. You gaped at the beautiful play of colours, and your heart swooned at the perfection of the brush strokes. 

“Ehm,” you heard somebody cough beside you, and it startled you so much you actually jumped to the side, your hand flying to your chest in a feeble attempt to will your heart to stay calm. 

You took the intruder in and found out that unlike every other man in the room (and there were a few, as you noticed) this guy wasn’t wearing all-black attire. He was in a comfortable-looking creme sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans, everything fitting him as if the clothes were sawn to his body. 

Which, as far as you could tell, was the body of a Greek God. 

“See something you like, honey?” The man interrupted thoughts, and it just crossed your mind that he was really rude, not letting you breathe even for a second before he had to make his presence known. 

“Yes, actually. I’m quite a big fan of the artist whose painting you have there, so I admired that. And you are?” You trailed at the end, signalling that while he was very handsome, you had no idea who he was and why it was that you needed to come to him this evening. 

“Straight to business, huh? I like that. I’m quite surprised Tony didn’t tell you who I was. Was he scared you wouldn’t have come if you knew?” He didn’t wait for your answer, however. “Well, honey, I’m Steve Rogers, and I am very pleased to meet you,” he smirked at your stomach dropped. 

Steve Rogers? That Steve Rogers? It wasn’t possible. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” you muttered as you scratched your arms nervously. 

“Oh no, on the contrary. I’m all too real, Miss Y/L/N, and from the looks of it, I’m glad Tony didn’t tell you, you look like you might faint. Are you feeling alright?” He asked like the smug asshole he was, and you just turned away from him, taking a deep breath before you finally turned back around to face him with a pokerface. 

“I’m alright, thank you. So now, can I know what it is you want from me so much you stalked me and made me come here, pretty much by force?” 

He scoffed but showed you to follow him to the sofa. When you didn’t budge, he simply took you by your elbow and pretty much shoved you down to the plump sofa. 

“Force, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I simply asked you to come visit me, is it so wrong? But yes, you are right, we should talk about why I invited you here. You see, Y/N, I’m in need of a wife, and after long calculations, I came to the conclusion you would be perfect for the job,” he said straightforwardly, and it was now that you felt like you’d faint. 

“Marry me? Are you fucking insane?” You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Form the pissed off expression on his face, you could see it was not the right move, but he couldn’t expect any other reaction, really. 

“Easy, honey or I might have to use the said force to shut that smart mouth of yours,” Steve mumbled dangerously, and you swallowed harshly. 

“Right, you’re a notorious mobster, and I’m literally nobody, and if you killed me, nobody would miss me. Good, now that’s out of the table, why do you want to marry me? And what does it mean you are in need of a wife? I mean… you are notorious for dating a different girl every week, can’t you just marry one of them if you’re in such a great hurry?” 

“No, honey, I can’t. All you need to know right now is my proposal. So, here it is. You will marry me, we will stay married for a year and then get a divorce. You will have everything every girl ever wanted: loads of clothes, all the time in the world to do whatever the fuck you want, you won’t have to work, and I will pay for everything and more. You will live here so you won’t have to worry about your rent money, and I will also pay your student loan, on top of which you will be paid 20.000$ every month for playing your role. And when the year is over, you will walk away rich, without any debts slowing you down and you will be able to do anything you want. How does that sound?” 

“It sounds like it’s not a proposal but a directive,” you smiled sweetly and stood up, pacing the room and scratching your hands like crazy. This was not happening, no, no, no!

You needed the money, you really did, and getting rid of the debt from your student loan that would have been sweet too, but at what price? On the other hand, you thought, how bad could it be to just be somebody’s wife for a year? He did make it sound pretty easy. 

“What would be expected of me?” 

“Well, you would go with me to every event and pretty much listen to everything I say,” he shrugged as if it was the most natural thing to say to another human being. 

“Like, you’d ask me to spread my legs for you here, and I would do it?” You asked, suddenly very angry that the man just assumed what kind of a person you were. You were desperate, but not that desperate. 

“Oh, no, honey. That is one of the reasons why I chose you: I’m not attracted to you, so no, I wouldn’t ask you for any sexual favours. We could even put that to our contract if you’d feel better, but, really, you have nothing to worry from me,” he again said with ease, and you didn’t know if you were glad he just told you this or really pissed and ashamed.

Not that you thought you were some kind of a beauty, far from it, but he also didn’t have to be so upfront about it. And now you understood it even less why the hell he chose you.

“Just, wait a second,” you said, your brows knitting together as you tried to piece together all the information the man in front of you had just given you. He was gorgeous, there was no question about that, but that wasn’t the issue here. There were many gorgeous people in New York, and you didn’t marry any of them. Yet, that was. 

“You want to marry me. But you still haven’t told me why, so?” You asked for like the hundredth time that evening, and the man just smirked again, playing with his cuffs, never answering to your satisfaction. 

“Honey, what I want, I get, and I decided that I wanted you, so, what is going to be? Are you gonna be a good girl for me or am I gonna have to force you, hm?” He smiled sweetly, but even you knew better. Behind that oh-very-sweet smile, there was venom and a ton of it. You rubbed your temples and plopped down on the nice-looking couch, thinking about what he was proposing.

“Then why choosing me if you don’t find me attractive? Not that it’s an issue, I’m just really trying to understand the situation here,” you said, totally ignoring the threat in his voice as you needed some much valuable answers. 

“Right, well, first of all, as I already mentioned, what I want, I get, honey, and you should always remember that. Secondly, it was your ability to keep a straight face, even though I can see the ability is not endless. I need somebody who will be sickly sweet to both my friends and enemies alike, who won’t mind a few sleazy comments from the old fuckers, and who will look like an obedient wife. I need somebody who will blend in and who will look trustworthy, and not like she was to stay only for a week. And when I saw you in that pub where you used to work, I could see you had what it took to be in this life, even if only for a year,” he finished, and you were glad you were right at least about the guy, Steve, also sending the people to sniff around your workplace. But then it hit you. 

“Where I used to work? I still work there,” you said dumbfounded, and Steve chuckled humorously. 

“Oh no, you don’t. You see, I need my wife free all the time and I need her here with me. Look, Y/N, this is getting tiring, and I really need an answer now. What is it gonna be, huh?”

“Like I even have a choice. You just said you would use force if I said no, so, what am I supposed to say, huh? I don’t want to get married, but I don’t have any money and your snoopy ass is getting in the way of my life, and you ended one of my jobs, and before you say you terminated my contract in the gallery, please think about it again. That job is very important to me, it has always been my dream to be in a gallery surrounded by beautiful art, and, by chance, having my art there as well. 

I don’t know Steve, your offer is very generous, it really is, but I don’t think I’m the right one,” you sighed finally and looked around the room, ignoring the boring looks from Steve. Then you saw the clock and you almost panicked, it was two minutes before 9. 

“Oh my God, I need to call my friends, or they’re gonna call the cops,” you said quickly already dialling Caroline’s number. You told her you were fine and that no, you weren’t a personal slave yet, but that you’d tell them everything when you got home. When the call ended, the venom was back in Steve’s eyes. 

“If you think you can talk to people about anything I have just said, you are terribly wrong, doll,” he seethed, and you were taken aback, but you didn’t want him to think he intimidated you.

“Well, if you think I’m not gonna tell my family about this, then it’s you who is terribly wrong, Steve. We tell each other everything, and if I considered this proposal of yours, it would mean Aidan and Caroline would know about this, at least that I’m marrying you for more than my undying love for you,” you spat back, and Steve saw the determination in your eyes. He knew he had to compromise with you, even if only a little bit. 

He already found out everything about you, he knew your whole life, your past, everything his people could find on the internet. And what he got from the search was that you and the people you lived with were extremely close. He considered getting rid of them but realised it would only push you away from what he needed from you. And he needed a wife ASAP. 

The mafia was still very conservative, and as he was the only boss without a constant woman by his side, he was sometimes excluded from important meetings that happened on “family retreats.” And he needed all the info there was if he wanted to be the best of the best. Or, the worst of the worst, if we were being literal. 

“Fine, but they will need to sign a contract saying that they will keep their mouths shut,” Steve smiled back, and you nodded, your head already spinning. 

Were you really considering it? But was there any other option? You needed the money, and it would’ve be great if you didn’t have to care about your student loan for the rest of your life. You would see the world, just like you wanted, you would have time for your art, and you would be free after only a year. That didn’t sound that bad. Sure, you’d be affiliated with a known mafia boss, but that was nothing you couldn’t handle. But there was still a question Steve didn’t answer. 

“What about my job at the gallery? If you made them fire me and I’m gonna find out tomorrow, I can’t even begin to consider this. I want that job, I want to work at that gallery, Steve.” 

“Fucking hell, I could buy you the gallery if you agreed!” He shouted, exasperated that it was taking so long. He really didn’t get it. He was proposing a life in luxury, and he knew that the majority of women in New York would be more than happy to be seen by his side. But you? You had to be difficult and even demand stuff. Fucking hell…

“But whatever, you wanna work there, fine. Whatever, I don’t give a fuck. Do we have a deal or not? I have better things to do with my evening than just bargain with you, honey,” he accentuated the pet name that you already hated.

Well, this wasn’t how you imagined your proposal to go. Not that you were too keen on the whole idea of a marriage, but still, a girl could dream. Yet, here you were, actually considering getting tied up with a mobster for a year just because he offered you enough money and a life that you felt like could be interesting, if only for a year and with a man who blatantly told you he wasn’t interested in you in that way. This was the only reason you didn’t feel as dirty as you expected because you knew he would never touch you and never want you to do something sexual against your will. 

You were used to lying through your teeth ever since you were little, your parents made sure you knew how important it was to keep your secret, and dangerous life wasn’t something you only heard of on TV. All this made the decision slightly easier, as you finally made up your mind. 

“Fine, but we still have a lot to talk about, Mr Rogers,” you set your jaw and outstretched your hand to shake on it with him. 

“Whatever, Mrs Rogers. Consider your rent paid and I’ll see you on Friday when we discuss our matter in greater detail. Now, if you excuse me,” he kissed the top of your hand and walked away. 

Well, this would be fun, you told yourself as you watched the man you would soon call your husband walk away from you, and contemplated whether you made the right choice. But your life wasn’t great as was, as much as you tried to fill it with laughter and happiness, and, in a sense, Steve offered you an out, even if only for a little bit. 

Here was to nothing, you hollered at yourself in your mind and followed one of the turtleneck-guys out of the manor and into the chilly air of evening New York.

/ Next Chapter >

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[smells-like-mettaton]

soriel, 1 (chocolate) for the ask game?

Like a Box of Chocolates

Rating: G Word Count: 2734 Read on AO3: here

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"Ok. I brought a few choices," Sans said while sitting with his back to the door. He pulled a plastic sack full of chocolate and chocolate-adjacent treats out from under his shirt.

"Oh, you did not have to do that." The voice behind the door sounded embarrassed.

"It's no big deal." He shrugged instinctively, though she wouldn't be able to see it. "Not like I candy things like this for you very often."

The lady laughed, even though the pun was a stretch. She was a great audience like that.

"I cannot argue with that. After all, it is the choco-thought that counts."

Sans let out a wheeze. Man, she had him beat in the bad jokes department. He needed to up his game.

"What can I say, I'm a sweet guy." That joke would work better if she could see his wink.

"You certainly are, my friend."

Sans blinked. He hadn't been prepared for the genuine warmth in her voice. Now he felt something like a melted chocolate himself.

"Uh. You'd better wait and make sure I didn't pick out garbage before you say that." He chuckled nervously and spread out the chocolates in the snow.

"Alright. Hit me with your best choco-shot."

He laughed out loud at that one too. She could really squeeze some mileage out of chocolate puns.

"First off we have the MTT-Brand Chocolate Mettaton. Which is exactly what it sounds like. Chocolate in the shape of everyone's favorite robot superstar." He scanned the back of the wrapper. "Contains sequins and glitter, but it's still monster food, so probably won't cause any more indigestion than Temmie Flakes. Still, wouldn't blame ya if you passed on that."

The lady laughed. "I do not know this 'Mettaton,' but he sounds like someone…"

Her voice trailed off, the way it always did when she neared a personal topic. It seemed to be happening more and more often lately. Sans didn't know if that was a good sign, or if he needed to do a better job of distracting her.

"Someone I know would have liked that," she finished clumsily.

"Welp. It's yours, then." He attempted to slide it under the door.

Attempted. The thick block of chocolate wouldn't fit through the narrow space.

"What are my other options?" The lady asked, not seeming to hear his failure.

(Or just ignoring it. The way they always ignored things they didn't want to acknowledge.)

Oh well. He'd deal with that later, if she wanted to.

He picked up the next box and rattled it. It looked thin enough to fit under the door.

"I think this one's called, uh, pocket?” He couldn’t tell for sure, since the box was labeled in a language he didn’t recognize. Where did Alphys get this stuff? “A pal gave it to me. They’re like chocolate-covered sticks, I think."

"Not precisely what I was looking for, but I would love to try it regardless," she said. "If I am allowed to have both options, I mean. If not, I should probably stick with the Em-Tee-Tee."

Sans bit back a snort. So she hadn't heard after all. That made this a lot more awkward.

"Do you wanna hear the other options first? Wouldn't want ya to have any regrets."

"Oh! There are more?"

She sounded as surprised as a kid finding an extra fry in the bottom of their Grillby's bag. He couldn't help grinning.

"Yup. Next up is a chocolate spider donut—”

“Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders?” The voice seemed on the verge of laughter again.

His eyesockets widened. “Uh… welp. Guess you don’t need the whole spiel, huh?”

“There is a spider bakesale right around the corner from my home,” the lady explained. “I believe they are saving for a… ‘heated limo’? To travel safely through Snowdin. I wish I could help them, but I did not think to take much gold when I…”

Another dead end. That was fine, Sans could piece together enough. Not that her personal life was any of his business, anyway.

“If it makes ya feel any better, they really raked me over the coals for this one.”

“It does not!” came her quick reply. “I only asked for a chocolate bar. Not for you to spend money that you need on me.”

Geez, this lady was too good for him. As if Sans ever really went out of his way for anyone.

Except Papyrus, but he was family. And sometimes Grillby, if he felt bad about failing to pay his tab for too long. And Alphys, but he owed her for screwing off after space-time blew up in their faces.

And now, the lady behind the door. The lady he didn’t owe anything to, except a few good laughs.

Who was he kidding? Those laughs were more important to him than anything.

“Eh, it just cost me one day of selling ‘dogs. Donut worry about it.”

“Very well. Since it was for a good cause, I will not grill you any further. But please tell me that was the last chocolate you purchased for me.”

“It’s the last one I purchased.” He grinned. While she couldn’t see his expression, she must have heard the but in his voice.

“Please tell me you did not steal any chocolate for me.”

“Geez, lady, what do you take me for? I’d never commit petty thievery.”

“Well, that is reassuring.”

“Yep. Gotta save room for the real high-dollar crimes. Like the illegal hot dog stand.”

The voice behind the door went silent. He wished he could see her face now more than ever. His own grin slowly slid from his skull.

“Everyone knows about it,” he reassured her. “If the King really wanted to shut me down, he’d have done it a long time ago.”

“Oh, I am not judging you for that. I am sure the law is rigged against you if the King has any say in it.” Her voice was surprisingly bitter.

His real problem was that he couldn’t ever find the necessary documents to get licensed in food preparation. His birth certificate was presumably in whatever alternate dimension his old man had blasted them out of.

“You are judging me for something, though,” he realized. The chill of the snow seeped into his bones, but he didn’t dare adjust his position. Somehow he felt that if he moved, she would disappear.

“I am not. I was only thinking about…” She sighed. “It is complicated. There was a time when I could have helped you, but it is long past.”

“Help me? Look, lady, the ‘dog stand is fine. Promise. Better than fine, since I don’t gotta pay taxes on it.”

She chuckled at that.

“Very well. Forgive a silly old lady for worrying.”

“Done.” He smiled, settling back against the door more comfortably.

He should’ve known she’d have a problem with his illegal activities, though. She was a classy lady, and he was… him. Why had he even brought it up? It wasn’t a great joke. Did he really just want her to know?

Eh, whatever. She wasn’t mad, so no harm done, right?

“I would like to know how you acquired this other chocolate, if it was not through your sticky fingers.” She sounded like she was grinning.

“Huh? Oh.” He blinked and dug out the last chocolate of the bunch. Blue dusted his cheeks. “QC—that’s the lady who runs the shop in town—gave ‘em to me for free. They’re called, uh, kisses.”

QC had a knowing look in her eyes when she’d offered the bag of chocolates to him. It was his own fault for implying they were for a girl. Everyone already thought he screwed around in the woods on his shifts, and with the way gossip travelled in a small town, everyone at Grillby’s would be asking about his girlfriend tonight.

“Kisses,” the lady behind the door echoed. “This is not one of your jokes, is it?”

“Not this time. Sorry to disappoint.” His grin felt too tight. “They’re, uh, tiny chocolates. Kinda cone-shaped? QC makes ‘em herself, so they’ve gotta be good.”

“Oh.” Oddly, the voice did sound disappointed. Sans couldn’t imagine why. Not like he could kiss her through the door, even if he had lips. And even if there was some unlikely timeline where she wanted a kiss from him.

He wanted to thump his skull back against the door, but there was no point in worrying her like that.

“In that case, I will take the kisses. They will be perfect for…”

He was sure she would leave it at that. Cover up with some non sequitur.

So his eyesockets went wide when she said, “for the anniversary of my child’s passing.”

“Oh.” He let out a strangled little laugh. “I—geez, I’m sorry. If I’d known—”

“You would have what? Spent even more money on this silly old lady, who cannot even leave to buy her child’s favorite chocolate?” Her voice was firm. “No. I thought you deserved to know, after the trouble you went to, and because you shared your own secret with me today.”

“My ‘dog stand is hardly a secret,” he said, still feeling a little shaky. She had a kid? A dead kid?

Well, who in the Underground didn’t have skeletons in their closet? Metaphorically or literally. She was still his best friend. If she wanted his pity, she would’ve said something sooner.

“Regardless,” she said. “It is in the past. Forget it, if you wish. But please do not treat me any differently.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said sincerely. If there was one thing he was good at, it was maintaining the status quo. “So, uh. These chocolates. I kind of wanted you to have all of ‘em, if that’s alright with you.”

“It would be rude to refuse a gift, would it not?” She sounded like she was smiling again, to his relief.

“There’s just one problem. Uh. Don’t think they’re all gonna fit under the door.” He rapped on the stone surface with his knuckle for emphasis.

“I did not assume they would. The recipe I gave you before hardly passed through.”

Sans blinked. “Then you—huh?”

“I will open the door just a fraction. It can only be done from the inside.” She paused, like she was gathering a breath. “I would ask that you do not look. I promise I will not peek, either.”

Sans’s ribcage tightened. She was going to open the door. She would be right there, with no stone between them.

The thought opened a desperate floodgate within him. He hadn’t realized just how badly he wanted to see her, to know her, to live off of more than just scraps and unfinished sentences.

She once had a child. She had some kind of beef against the King. She wanted to give charity to spiders, but didn’t have enough money. All these facts he filed away, tucking them into the grooves in his ribcage.

It would be enough. He’d duct tape those gates shut again, if he had to. He wasn’t going to betray the trust she’d shown him.

“Got it. You don’t wanna be smitten by my good looks, I understand,” he joked.

(He had a feeling it would be the other way around, if anything. Not that quality of jokes translated to quality of appearance—he would know. If it did, he’d have biceps like his brother.)

“It would be tragic. Much too high a price for you to handsome chocolate to me.”

“Heh, I’m sure you’re a door-able too. But I’ll keep my sockets shut, since our friendship hinges on it.”

That got a raucous laugh out of her, the kind that started off high-pitched and quickly became something of a snorting bleat. That sound was sweeter than chocolate to him.

...Man, his pals at Grilby’s would be right to dunk on him. He was a massive dork.

“Alright,” she said once she caught her breath, “if you are ready, my friend…”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Better choco-late than never, huh?”

That one only got a snort, but he wasn’t sure if that was because the pun fell flat, or because she was nervous. As far as he knew, she hadn’t been outside of the Ruins in years. And here she was, trusting a sentry—someone whose job it was to keep a look out—to turn a blind eye.

It was a good thing he’d never been good at his job.

Stone ground against stone with a dramatic rumble. His eyesockets stayed shut. Warmth emanated from somewhere near his shoulder, and he lifted the bag of chocolates.

His small hand brushed a large fur-covered one. A shiver trailed down his spine. One small touch shouldn’t have done so much to him, but—but she was real. She was more than just a voice behind a door. Which he knew, but knowing and feeling could be worlds apart at times.

She took the bag, and the moment was over. But the door didn’t close.

“My dear friend,” she whispered, her voice sounding closer than ever. “Would it be presumptuous to ask another favor of you?”

“‘Course not. Glad to do a favor for my favor-ite person.” He kept his tone light, unaffected by the swirling emotions inside him.

“If I could… oh, dear, this is embarrassing.”

He resisted the urge to open his eyes, to see what look might be on her face.

“It has simply been so long… may I hold your hand a moment longer?”

He felt the marrow heating within his bones.

“That all? I gotta hand it to ya, you made me think you needed an arm and a leg.”

She chuckled before awkwardly fumbling to grasp his hand again.

Heat poured from her palm into his phalanges. Aside from the fur, there were several spots of soft skin—probably paw pads. Was she a dog monster, like the Canine Unit in town? She didn’t make nearly enough dog jokes for that to be the case. Her laugh sounded more like a goat’s, but she obviously didn’t have hooves. Maybe she was some kind of chimera? You didn’t see those often nowadays, but then again, no one saw monsters from the Ruins, either.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice as soft as the snow that began to drift around him.

“Not disappointed?” He asked, only half-joking. “My hand can’t be as comfy as yours.”

“Ah, but it is all your bone. And that is wonderful to me.”

“Geez, old lady.” He was grateful she couldn’t see his blush. “You’re pretty fur-fect yourself.”

When she laughed, her body shook all the way down to her hand. The feeling more than made up for all the G he’d spent on chocolate and donuts.

Suddenly his hand was being lifted up, and then something soft pressed against his knuckles. His soul flared erratically, and his eyes nearly flew open. If they had, he was sure his left eyelight would have been blue from shock.

“A kiss for a kiss,” she said slyly. “It is only fair.”

“Heh heh…” His voice shook with more than laughter. “Technically, that was one kiss for a bag of kisses. Pretty sure that math doesn’t square up.”

“Oh, you are quite right! One day we will have to circle back and rectify that.”

He practically had to cast gravity magic on himself to keep his eyes from flying open.

“You—huh?” He said intelligently.

“Perhaps not soon,” she clarified. “This has all been… a lot, for me. But thanks to you, my dear friend, this day has not been so bitter as I am used to.”

“Uh, no problem, then. With all that chocolate, I hope it’s sweet.”

Sweet as the anniversary of a death could be, anyway. He grimaced. Maybe that joke was too soon, but she just squeezed his hand before finally letting go.

“I do think it will be,” she said softly. “I will look forward to hearing more of your punny jokes tomorrow.”

The door scraped shut, and he hesitantly opened his eyes. He couldn't help inspecting the door to see if anything changed. Pressing his still-warm hand against the smooth stone.

“Heh. Good luck getting rid of me now.” He grinned.

Then he tucked his hands in his pockets, where her kiss remained like a tattoo on his bone.

#tali writes #safeutdr #soriel #sans #toriel #fic tag #very happy with how this one turned out :D #hope you like it and thanks for the request! #prompt requests

[maximumjinx]

Steven Universe Gravity Falls AU

~Yknow what they say, if you run out of content, ya gotta make it yourself. This is a ? shot (I might continue or not who knows not me) please don’t ask for more I have 18 unfinished fanfics on this site.~

California was nice, Steven had to admit. The people were nice, the food was fantastic, and the weather was splendid. It reminded him a lot of Beach City. Though there were just so many people, and traveling north, Steven was beginning to long for something small and simple again.

Oregon was the perfect place for that, right?

“Ronaldo wants pictures of Bigfoot, and if anyone can find him, its you Steven.” Petey’s voice was faint on Steven’s phone speaker, tossed into the passenger seat as Steven blindly picked a highway exit.

“Sure Petey, but couldn’t Ronaldo just go to a circus?”

“Not big feet Steven,” Petey emphasized, “Bigfoot.”

“Saying it twice isn’t helping buddy.” Steven was half paying attention. He was focusing on the winding roads and the looming trees surrounding him. Deep, in the pit of Steven’s stomach, he felt something start to tug him toward one direction farther away from the highway. He wasn’t quite sure if it was a good or bad feeling yet.

“Forget it, I’m going to take a blurry photo of that mean Gem in the woods and say its Bigfoot.”

“Just don’t let Jasper catch you, she’s no joke when she’s angry.”

“I saw her ripping grass out of the ground I think I’ll be fine. Later dude.”

Steven heard a small click and smiled to himself. He’s happy to see how far the people of Beach City have come and how they’ve taken to the gems. He remembers when the Crystal Gems were once the outcasts of town that locals warned you to stay away from.

He looked up to see a welcome sign.

“Gravity falls. Well, that’s a funny name.”

—

Steven wanted small and simple but he feels he may have overshot it.

This small town had exactly three attractions. A town museum that mentioned marrying woodpeckers (Steven couldn’t figure out if that was a normal human thing, like taxes and velcro), a small diner, and as one local described it ‘some tourist trap’ deep in the woods. It was a sticky summer day and the former two attractions didn’t have airconditioning. Steven gambled on the last stop in hopes of stretching his legs and maybe finding a source to the strange feeling in his gut. It had become much stronger since he entered this small town. Alluring, but nothing related to Gems as far as Steven could tell.

He parked in the nearly empty lot and stepped out. Jacket wrapped loosely around his hips, Steven made his way inside.

A girl that looked about 13 was petting a pig on the front porch. She was incredibly reflective, and depsite the heat wore a knitted bedazzled sweater that made her glow like a disco ball in the sun.

She looked Steven up and down as he approached, a wide smile taking up her face and Steven saw bright braces with colored bands.

“Hi!” She launched upwards, startling the pig away, “I’m Mabel, but you can call me anytime.” The girl winked and stuck out her hand, palm facing the floor.

Steven blinked.

“Mabel, stop scaring away the customers!” A gruff voice yelled through the screen door, and soon an older man stepped out in a suit, wearing a fez and eyepatch.

Immediately the old man squinted at Steven, sizing him up.

Stanley Pines knew this teen wasn’t local, but he wasn’t sure if he had any money. For all he knew he was another boy trying to hit on his giftshop cashier, Wendy.

Oh well, a customer is a customer.

“Come in, come in, and see our mystical and magical wonders!”

“Magical?” This could be it, Steven could figure out why this town has felt off. Maybe it was gem related after all.

Quickly this older man who had introduced himself as Mr. Mystery gave Steven a tour of what looked like failed taxidermy projects. Now Steven may have a lived a sheltered childhood, but he felt pretty confident there was no such thing as a Sashcrotch. And so far, nothing had felt magical or mysterious.

“That concludes our tour! Here is our mistifying giftshop and it’s purchasable wonders!”

“Right...” Well, at the very least he was able to spend some time in airconditioning.

There was a girl behind the desk in plaid that looked about Steven’s age, and just a half inch shorter than him. She looked bored, flipping through a magazine as a young boy that looked a lot like Mabel made googly eyes as he swept by the door.

Steven guessed there was no harm in asking around.

“Hi, I’m Steven.” He smiled easily, walking up to the register.

“No refunds, even if an exhibit bit you.” She sighed, peeking up before turning back to her magazine.

“Oh no, nothing bit me, I just wanted to know something.”

She looked up to get a better look at Steven and gave a small smirk.

“Sure, but only because I like your shirt. Mr. Universe merch, now that’s a deep cut.”

Unbeknownst to Steven, Dipper Pines would had been watching the exchange felt a twinge of uneasiness as this out of towner talked with Wendy.

“Have you ever seen anything strange or weird actually happen in this town?”

Wendy’s smile dropped.

“Why do you ask?” Her eyes flickered to Dipper, just for a moment, and that was all he needed to rush over.

“Excuse me sir, please buy something or exit the store.” Dipper spoke in the deepest voice he could muster.

Steven looked over with a questioning expression.

“Oh sure uh-“ He blindly reached for the wad of bills that his dad had given to him before he left. Steven pulled out a hundred dollar bill and put it on the counter. Wendy looked up baffled as Steven stuffed the other cash back in his wallet.

“Boy was I wrong about you kid!” Mr. Mystery, seemingly materializing out of nowhere, now bounded over. He had loosened his tie and lost the eyepatch which turned out he never needed.

“Whaddya wanna know? I’ll tell you everything. There’s gnomes in the woods you know-“

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper protested loudly, dragging his Stan away and harshly whispering at him.

“Did you steal that money?” Wendy asked as Steven watched the pair whisper fight in the corner. He turned back to the girl and gave a sheepish smile.

“Uh no, my dad gave it to me before this roadtrip. He’s actually Mr. Universe.”

Wendy lit up.

“No freaking way! Your dad is Mr. Universe? I only got into him since he managed Sadie Killer and the Suspects and they always perform covers of his songs on tour, I can’t believe he’s your dad!” She rambled, stars in her eyes. Steven beamed, he loved when people praised his dad’s music. Greg really deserved it.

Steven learned Wendy’s name and they swapped stories back and forth, only interrupted as the girl from outside slowly rose from the behind the counter beaming.

“A cute musician that loves weird stuff, take me now.” She swooned. Steven blushed profusely, not used to the attention.

“Sorry, my girlfriend Connie probably wouldn’t like that very much.” He said gently. Mabel looked him up and down and pouted.

“I can wait, but not forever.” She warned, and winked, bounding to break apart her grunkle and Dipper, who are now whisper screaming with arms flailing.

“I wasn’t going to mention that Dorito shaped jerk! Just the normal stuff!”

“It’s dangerous! He could be a spy, or government, or another stack of gnomes!”

Steven raised an eyebrow and looked at Wendy. She chuckled and shrugged. Steven carefully approached them.

“He can hear everything you’re saying anyways so might as well tell him!” Mabel interrupted, nodding towards Steven as he came up.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m definitely not government.” Steven technically didn’t exist at all. He never had a social security card and didn’t have a birth certificate.

Dipper only glared. Rich strangers with an interest in the paranormal didn’t come through gravity falls without some kind of agenda.

Steven hated the conflict he was starting. No information was worth this family fighting.

“Okay,” he surrendered, hands up, “I’ll just go. I’ll stick around town until tomorrow if you change your minds”

“Wait Steven-”

“Let him go Wendy,” Dipper glared as the boy in pink walked out, “We can’t trust him.”

“But I was going to ask for Sadie tickets...” Wendy groaned, defeated.

“There’s something weird about him.”

“Great!” Mabel beamed, “He’ll fit right in.”

~.~

Steven wasn’t crazy about sleeping in his car, but was seriously considering it after seeing the state of his motel room. It looked like it hadn’t been used in decades, a thin line of dust covering every surface. He was also pretty sure they didn’t even have free ice. 

“Wish Pearl were here..” He mumbled, exhausted. He curled up on top of the covers, fully clothed, and let sleep take him.

Being Steven Universe however, meant rest was sure to allude the half alien. 

Steven found himself in a dark space, fog all around him. Before a word could come out of his mouth he heard a fast, repetitive muttering. 

“Stranger...Wendy looked pretty today..Can’t trust...Tell no one...Ford isn’t here..”

“What, the-” Steven quietly walked toward the source of dialogue, and saw the faded silhouette of the boy from the Mystery Shack. His back was turned to him, but Steven recognized the blue vest and mosquito bitten legs. 

“I thought I was over the dream hopping.” Steven spoke a tad too loudly, starting the young boy - Dipper.

“What-” Dipper’s eyes grew wide in panic, and the boy fell back harshly.

“No, no, you can’t be in my head!” 

“Wait, I’m not-” Steven tried to reassure him, stepping carefully towards the boy but Dipper let out a screech of terror, sweat gathering around his temples.

“Bill sent you didn’t he?! He’s not really gone- he’s going to hurt Mable again-” Dipper began to hyperventilate. 

“Dipper please,” Steven took a step back, arms in the air in surrender. 

“I-”

“I’m not going to hurt you I swear on the gems.” He placed a hand over his heart. “This is a total invasion of privacy but it’s something that happens when someone’s emotions are out of control-”

“How are you here?” Dipper demanded, scrambling to his feet. “Tell me what you are and what you want.”

“I’m just passing through!” Steven insisted, then lowered his tone to calm the younger boy. “I’m kinda of magnet for weird stuff. I just wanted to help in case anything was going on.”

“We deal with things just fine around here.” Dipper spat, then watched as Steven deflated. He seemed tired, like he hasn't slept well in a while. 

“So what are you anyways? How can you be here?”

Steven winced, and laughed nervously. “It’s kind of a long story..”

Dipper raised and eyebrow and swept his arm around the void dramatically. 

“You have until dawn.”

~

“I thought that was a conspiracy theory, it wasn’t even covered by major news outlets.” Dipper look exhausted, cross legged on the unseen floor as he ran his hands through his hair. 

“I think Garnet is pretty persuasive when it comes to government and reporters. They all kinda fall in love with her.”

“She’s the one that’s really two aliens?” 

Steven shook his head with a small smile. “It’s hard to explain but yes, I guess that comes close.”

“That’s actually insane. I’m insane, aren’t I?” Dipper stood up, leaving Steven on sitting next to an empty space. “It’s been too quiet around here and now I’m so desperate for weird, that I’m making it all up in my head.”

“I get that feeling.” Steven smiled without humor, “but no, this is real. I’ll prove it when you wake up.” Steven felt a shift, the fog in the void getting denser. 

“Sooner than I thought, you’re an early riser huh?”

Dipper looked back at Steven, panicked. “You’ll come to the Shack again right? In just a bit?”

Steven smiled. “Promise.”

~

Dipper woke up to his sister braiding his hair. Mabel still had her pjs on, and a make up kit next to the bed. Dipper frowned, tasting strawberry shortcake. 

“Stop testing party looks on me, Mabel.”

“Stop having my face structure and maybe I will.” She grinned, covered in blue glitter. 

Dipper quickly washed up and got dressed for the day, feeling like he was anxiously waiting for something but not quite remembering what. 

He felt like he had a strange dream last night...

He quickly remembered, choking on cereal as Steven walked into the shack right as it opened. Hair slightly frizzy from the heat and eyes strangely tired. Maybe dream hopping took energy that he anticipated. 

“Steven!”

“Meal ticket!” 

“Grunkle Stan.” Mabel chastised as Dipper rushed over to the older boy. 

“Good morning everyone.” 

Dipper stopped short, slightly hoping that everything he experienced wasn’t just his imagination. That everything exciting and weird and interesting wasn’t always trying to kill him, ruin his life, or steal his candy. 

Steven looked tired, like he had been doing this much longer than Dipper, but he had still come out with enough energy to smile. 

“Not insane?” Dipper asked hopefully, quietly. Steven snapped his attention from his Grunkle and Mable bickering down to the Dipper. He gave a reassuring smile, eyes quite serious. 

“Not insane.”

#I feel like I made up a strange tension but please don't ship them THEYRE FOUND FAMILY #Steven universe #gravity falls #universe falls #??? #what's the tag? #dipper pines #Mabel pines #grunkle stan #stan pines #bill cipher #this is something or maybe nothing idk people need to give me plot ideas #probably no plot just one shot series

[beann-e]

read part one here

Different Ways To Say Sorry

Your body sat idle in the hallway as you kept roaming your thoughts and only coming back to earlier .

After the argument with your boyfriend you were left alone , alone with akaashi who normally would have kept his mouth closed but decided not to when he seen your stuck expression after kuroos comment

As soon as you heard the loud bang of the house door and the engine start up kuroos yelling for bokuto to open the door and to slow down made your body fall instantly.

Marking the spot where you’d pushed bokuto into the wall cursing yourself for your actions . Shivering as you felt the wave of coldness wash over you thinking about the harmful words you’d said

“ y/n you didn’t mean any of it it’s ok “

akaashi’s soft voice came out as he dropped the sign he held that he helped bokuto make for you to welcome you home for your birthday.

Bokuto was childish and you knew it but he meant no harm he was just happy and excited little things excited him and when he was happy you were

So , if he was sad you would only be 2x as sad if the one who created his sadness was yourself

“ I heard you telling bokuto off and — thats not you not once since you’ve dated bokuto—san in the 4 years that you’ve been dating have I seen you get that mad “

he sighed as he hesitantly tried to squat near you

“ d-do you mind “ you nodded your head in a no allowing him to sit next to you while you cried into his shoulder

“ everyone has bad days y/n-san and everyone has had a moment in their life where they’ve said something they regret and that’s ok as long as the person you’ve said it to knows you didn’t mean it “

he squeezed you as you cried heavily “ y/n we all know bokuto is — “ he thought for a moment before speaking “ different from your average person — hes in a way easy “

he sighed as he spoke “ what I mean is you don’t have to do much to say sorry to bokuto so don’t cry really i’m sure he knows you didn’t mean any of it just — for me please when you see him again — please tell him you love him remind him you still love him “

akaashi rubbed your head “ because he’s one of those people when someone gets mad at him — especially someone he loves — if they get mad at him he immediately feels like he’s getting disciplined and like he’s done something really really wrong to be rewarded that behavior — any other award besides praise really “

you loosened your grip on akaashi’s shirt lifting your head to cry into your own hands “ so please when he comes back to you please just make it simple for him he won’t understand many words and won’t believe you if you say a simple sorry he’ll still think your upset and be scared that he’ll screw up again — I promise you he’s never gonna want to touch a stove in his life again— so I wonder what he’ll eat when he’s on the roa-“ akaashi laughed as he quickly calmed down coughing before wiping his sweaty hands on his pants

“ oh um— i’m sorry I thought a joke was a way to go that’s typically what bokuto does in these situations— or maybe you don’t want to keep talking about bokuto “ akaashi spoke out loud running through his thoughts and filtering them out loud

“ oh I should’ve kept myself out of business that’s not mine I feel so disgusted i’m telling you how to treat your boyfriend I- i’m sorry y/- “

“ akaashi I don’t want to trouble you — you may leave“

“ oh “ his voice came out in surprise before he sat confused “ oh — I no I couldn’t “

“ it’s fine akaashi I’ll be ok I just need some time alone “

he sighed he felt bad really but “ i’m sorry y/n I don’t think bokuto would ever forgive me — I don’t think i’d ever forgive myself if I let you stay in your home alone after something like that “

you stared at the ceiling as if you were actually talking to someone conveying sadness as your tears were still leaking “ keiji just please — it’s been a long day and I think I just screwed up my relationship — so could you please just leave me to my thoughts i’ll — i’ll be fine “

akaashi sighed as he moved to stand hugging you softly on the way up “ y/n i’m sorry to treat you like a child — to even put my foot down like this in a house that’s not mine and I don’t pay the bills for but — the most I can do and i’ll allow myself to do is leave the house and wait outside until bokuto comes back “

he sighed “ or at least texts me and tells me he’s gonna come back home because — if not I wouldn’t want you here alone just replaying that fight again and again like i’ve known bokuto to do when he’s lost matches you two are alike that way “

“ I-i’m fine with that just please “

he nodded his head as if you could see him your eyes were stuck to the same wall that was in front of the one bokuto was pushed into— your back up against it bit staring ahead at the corner he stood in when he left.

Hearing the door close and lock assuming akaashi had locked it for you with his key you two made for him so he could check on bokuto anytime he was home and you weren’t

Your body moving to stare directly at the door from the hallway so you’d always have an eye on it to see if bokuto ever returned home tonight.

‘ please’ you thought calmly

It wasn’t a short wait it was rather long You knew it had to be late in the morning when you finally heard the clicking and clacking around by the door until your eyes looked up eyebags weighing them down as you shook in your suit pants that you wore suddenly feeling sweaty as you ripped off the suit jacket.

The rattling and shaking at the door stopping assuming whoever it was —- was taking a moment to think before they walked in as if giving you some time to understand who it was and to prepare

The door opened slowly as your boyfriends hair came into view him standing at the doorstep eyes swollen and glazed over ,fist scratched and hands red , body shaking softly.

Your eyes watered as you just stared at his face thinking ‘ I did that ‘ mentally beating yourself up as your tears fell soft whimpers making their way out of your mouth as you covered it trying to conseal your spot on the floor so he wouldn’t notice

His eyes lifting up as he took a really deep breath and spoke “ y-y/n “ he called voice cracking as he tried again

“ y/n i went to play volleyball— at —at the gym and I got so mad I hurt myself from the constant spikes“ he stayed at the doorstop —door opened fully showing off everything he had with him.

His hand holding 3 roses , left hand holding a bag which , you weren’t sure consisted of and right next to his foot a box “ p-please answe-answer me “

you gulped you didn’t know if you could

You really didn’t know if you could tell your boyfriend that you were directly in front of him and he only had to look down .

“ I-it’s 4 in the mo-morning and I — I’ve been crying since 7 last night — so — so I can only imagine how your feeling h-how long you’ve been crying “

The flowers he held were soon dropped down by his legs as he only held on loosely to the bottom “ I-I dont want to just walk in y/n b-because I don’t know if I’m allowed to I-if I can so please — please let me know your ok “

your voice was soft he could barely hear it as you looked down at the floor

” y-your alwa—here I am being an a-ass to you earlier and you — you care to come back and ask if i’m ok first “ you felt your body shudder in a cry

“ I-i’m such an asshole — I was mad at work — I came home upset —- I brought my attitude home and my first thought was to be m-mean to someone who I love “

Bokutos body moved quickly to drop the things at the door you couldn’t even find it in you to care that he left the door wide open as he ran to you checking you out and lifting your head to inspect it before he stuttered thinking over his actions before kissing you hard on your mouth before he pulled back whispering out small apologies for the action and how he felt bad if he made you uncomfortable

you moved to stand up as he backed away going to grab everything and dragging it inside the house speaking to you as you sat down “ y/n I “

“ ko I just don’t want— “

his voice was hard for the first time today shutting you up instantly “ be quiet y/n “ his eyebrows were hard and done up in a furrow

“ I-I know your pissed at me and I know I can be a bit much and I — “ he was crying

“ I know i’m a child — people see me as a kid and i’m not I swear I can be adult I can be as adult as you want me to just so I can stay with you —I can pay taxes and figure them out if you wanted me to —if you wanted me to go get a real job and quit volleyball i’d do it all for you— because I love you and I don’t care if you want me out of the house “ his tears fell

“ I don’t care if you want me to have no closet space and want to burn my clothes but please — please don’t say you don’t love me it — it I can’t live without your love - you — you do so much for me and i’m so thankful anytime I have a meet your right there — anytime i’m frustrated your there explaining it — anytime I have to travel your on the phone talking to my management team finding tickets for you and all the other s/o “ he wiped at his eyes trying to see better

“ please forgive me i’m sorry i’m a m-man child I don’t know what that is but i’m so sorry for being it and i’m sorry it’s something you hate and I don’t wanna be what you hate y/n i’m sorry — I didn’t know what to do “

he was just saying nonsense now since his tears were clouding his brain “ I didn’t know where to go and kuroo was talking so much and I couldn’t focus and I ended up just buying all your favorite stuff because I thought you didn’t love me anymore so I wanted to beg for your forgiveness at the doorstop just now but —and then you were crying and I — I wanted to kiss you because your so pretty and I hate when you cry unless it’s over me winning and scoring the last point in my game — you look so pretty and proud then — and I like making you proud not sad “

he was clawing at his cheeks and eyes trying to get the tears to stop “ I— I just — my credit card I just bought everything I knew you liked —y/n — baby I bought a dog I don’t — I was — I bought a dog because you said dogs are pretty I bought a hat because you said the hat could go well with an outfit you had “

you smiled as your tears were falling too “ babe I bought a balloon because you said you like the way they lose air after 3 days — I even bough—“

“ baby it’s fine “ you cried as you moved to hug him squeezing tightly “ it’s ok I — this is my fault i’m so sorry “

you cried into his shirt “ your not a man child — which means —you don’t need to know actually it’ll just make things worse “

“ are you saying my shirts are too tight baby “

he cried out “ y/n that’s not funny — I’m buff —I build ok — I workout there’s nothing I can do about it “

“ no ko your perfect the way you are your my buff boyfriend and I love you for it your my brick wall baby“

“ I am “

“ yes and I love you and i’m so proud of how far you’ve come since high school i’m proud of you no matter where you travel to or what you do “

you smiled “ that’s why I missed so many days of work not because I just wanted to be home but because you were coming home for the first time in 2 months and I wanted to be home with you making sure you were comfortable and telling you how much I missed you “

he smiled as you spoke “ your an amazing boyfriend kou and I can’t imagine anyone who wouldnt be happy with you “

“ but I just spent all the money you and akaashi allow me to have on my card “

“ you can have more “ you laughed “ your not broke kou it’s just so you don’t spend all the money you make from volleyball “

he hugged you as you continued to speak “ do you forgive me “

he hugged you tighter kissing you softly as it turned into a heated kiss you trying to stop it before he turned it into more “ why’d you stop “ he said sadly

“ bokuto our door is wide open and “ your eyes came up in a raise

“ what babe what are you looking for “

your voice was high pitched as you looked at all the bags around you “ bo— baby where’s the dog “

his eyes came up in a crease “ what dog “ his brain finally clicking and hurrying to rumage through everything on the floor. Your bodies moving together in a fast pace as you moved over to look around the house.

The chaos going on inside your house all night rivaled the one that was taking place the next day in the car that sat right in your driveway

“ u-uh ok “ akaashi’s face was made up in a straight line as he looked down closing his car door softly

“ s-so um i’m gonna guess bokuto bought you “

the dog cocked its head to the side staring up at the tall male “ d-do you um wanna go back inside with him or “

the dog barked loudly as if scared “ yeah i’m gonna take that as a no “

he reached down to pick up the dog before opening the car door and setting it down in the passenger seat speaking as the dog whimpered “ yeah I don’t trust them either — they lost a whole dog in one night — “

akaashi’s face turned as he saw bokuto walking down the steps and to his car him throwing his coat over the animal “ i’m sorry — i’m sorry — you can come out in a moment “

“hey — hey akaashi “

“ b-bokuto-san hey “

“ aw did you stay out here all night i’m so sorry “ he smiled “ me and y/n are fine thank you for staying here with her “

“ yeah it was no problem really bokuto “

“ hey akaashi I — I actually lost a dog last night and I — I was wondering have you seen it “

“ uh dog ? why’d you have a dog “ bokuto froze as he bit his lip “ so you don’t have it good good “

he moved to leave patting akaashi’s car before he heard a ruffle come from inside “ hey dude somethings moving next to you “

“ oh — it’s um just my phone — I have to go in to work today “

“ wow you have a huge phone “ bokutos voice was raised in happiness “ what model is it I think I want a new one — especially if it’s big enough to fit in my hands with out my thumbs clicking weird buttons “

he pouted “ it’s not fun to retype messages “ akaashi moved to start the car up “ s-sorry bokuto really gotta go but i’ll be back sometime tomorrow “

“ o-oh ok bye akaashi “ he waved as he moved back up the stairs you meeting him at the top laughing as you pulled him back in the house

“ damn thought he would’ve saw the dog “

“ koutaro — baby he has the dog “ you smiled as you laughed pulling his pouting body into a hug “ he stole our dog “

“ well that’s not very nice “

“ let’s let him have it baby he needs it more than us — he can take care of it better “

#bokuto #bokutoxreader #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi x reader #akaashi oneshot #haikyuu keiji akaashi #akaashi keiji #akaashi fluff #hq x y/n #haikyuu x s/o #haikyu x reader #haikyuu koutarou #haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #kuroo x y/n #kuroo angst #angst #angst with a happy ending #hq angst

[nevermindirah]

I've been drafting and redrafting this meta post for weeks now. It's about to be 5781 and my country that was founded on settler colonial genocide and slavery and a deeply flawed but fierce attachment to democracy might go full dictatorship in about 6 weeks and it's time for me to post this thing.

All our immortals are warriors, all have been traumatized by war. But only three of them died their first deaths as soldiers in imperial armies. This fandom has already produced gallons of meta on Nicky dealing with his shit, because Joe would not fuck with an unapologetic Crusader. But there's very rich stuff in Booker and Nile's experiences and the parallels and distinctions between them.

Nile was 11 when her dad was killed in action - that was 2005, meaning she and her dad both died in the same war that George W Bush started in very tenuous response to 9/11. Sure, Nile's dad could have died in either Iraq or Afghanistan, or in a training accident or in an off-the-books mission we won't know about for a hundred more years, but he died in the War on Terror all the same. I had to look it up to be sure because Obama "drew down" the Afghanistan war in his second term, but nope, we're still in this fucking thing that never should've happened in the first place. The US war in Afghanistan just turned 19 years old. A lot of real-life Americans have experiences like the Freemans, parents and children both dying in the same war we shouldn't be in.

I know a lot of people like Nile who join the US military not just because it's the only realistic way for them to pay for college or afford decent healthcare, but also because they have a family history of military service that's a genuine source of pride. Military service has been a way for Americans of color to be accepted by white Americans as "true Americans" - from today's Dreamers who Obama promised would earn protection from deportation by enlisting, to Filipino veterans of WW2 earning US citizenship that Congress then denied them for several decades, to slaves "earning" their freedom through service in the Union Army and in the Continental Army before it. As if freedom is a thing one should have to earn. Lots of Black Americans have the last name Freeman for lots of different escaping-slavery reasons, but it's possible that this specific reason is how Nile got her last name.

Dying in a war you know your country chose to instigate unnecessarily and that maybe you believe it shouldn't be waging is a very particular kind of trauma. It is a much deeper trauma when your military service, and your father's, and maybe generations of your ancestors', is a source of pride and access to resources for you but your sacrifice is nearly meaningless to the white supremacist system that deploys you. That kind of cognitive dissonance encourages a person to ignore their own feelings just so they can function. How do you wake up in the morning, how do you risk your life every day, how do you *kill other people* in a war that shouldn't be happening and that you shouldn't have to serve in just so that your country sees you as human?

We see Nile do her best to be a kind and well-mannered invader. Depending on your experience with US imperialism, Nile giving candy to kids and reminding her squad to be respectful is either heartwarming or very disturbing propaganda. We also see Nile clutching her cross necklace and praying. From the second Christianity arrived on this land it's been a tool of white supremacist assimilation and control, but like military service, it's a fucked-up but genuine source of pride and access to resources for many Americans whose pre-Columbian ancestors were not Christian, and it's a powerful source of comfort and resilience. This Jew who's had a lot of Spanish Inquisition nightmares would like to say for the record that it's not Jesus's fault that his big name fans are such shitty people.

Nile is a good person trying to do her best in a fucked-up world. "Her best" just radically changed. Her access to information on just how fucked up the world is has also just radically changed, because everything's so fucked up a person needs a lot of time to learn about it all and not only does she have centuries but she won't have to spend that time worrying about rent and healthcare and taxes, and because she now has Joe and Nicky and Andy's stories, and because she now has Copley's inside scoop on just what the fuck the CIA has been up to. Like, I want a fic where Copley tells Nile what was really behind the brass's decisions that led to her experiences on the ground in Afghanistan, that led to her father's death, but also I Do Not Want That.

Nile was 19 when Alicia Garza posted on Facebook that Black Lives Matter. She grew up in Chicago well before white people on Twitter were saying maybe police violence against Black people is a problem. She knows this is a deeply fucked up country, and she put on her Marine uniform and deployed with her team of mostly fellow women of color, and maybe she and Dizzy and Jay marched in the streets between deployments, maybe they texted each other when a white manarchist at a protest sneered at one of them for being a Marine. Nile's been busy surviving, and she knows some shit and she's seen some shit but she hasn't had much time to think about what it all means. Now she's got time. And Joe, Nicky, and Andy are willing to listen. (Is Copley willing to listen? I could see that going either way.)

Booker might also be willing to listen. The brilliant idea of cleaning up the rat Frenchman so that Nile can have millennia of emotional support and orgasms sent me down a Wikipedia rabbit hole, and holy shit do Booker and Nile have a lot of shared life experience as pawns of imperial wars. Obviously Booker is white and a man and that makes a very big difference. (Though G-d help me, Booker could be Jewish and France was knocking its Jews around like ping-pong balls in the 18th-19th centuries. Jewish Booker wouldn't make him any less white but it does add a shit ton of depth of common experience: military service as a way for your country to see you as a full member of society who matters, because who you are means that's not guaranteed.)

Booker was hanged for desertion from the army Napoleon sent to invade Russia as part of his quest to control all of Europe. We learn in the comics / this YouTube video that Booker was on his way to prison for forgery when he was offered military service instead of jail time. While we don't know how he felt about the choice beyond that he did choose soldier over inmate, it's unlikely he thought invading Russia was a great idea, given he tried to desert because Napoleon like a true imperialist dumbass didn't plan for how he was going to feed his army or keep them from freezing to death in fucking Russian winter.

I find it very interesting that the French Empire was at its largest right before invading Russia and fell apart completely within a few years. My country has been falling the fuck apart for a while now - see aforementioned War on Terror, growing extremes of economic stratification in the richest country in the world, abject refusal to meaningfully deal with climate change that US-based corporations hold the lion's share of blame for - but between Trump's abject refusal to meaningfully deal with the coronavirus and strong likelihood that he'll refuse to leave office even if a certain pathetic moderate I will hold my nose and vote for does manage to earn a majority of votes, ~y~i~k~e~s.

Our only immortals who have never known a world before modernity and nationalism happen to have been born of wars that were the beginning of the end for the imperialist democracies that raised them, and I think in the centuries to come that's going to give them some very interesting shit to talk about.

Nile's a Young Millennial, a digital native born in the United States after the collapse of the USSR left her country as the world's only superpower. She's used to a pace of technological change that human brains are not evolved to handle.

Napoleon trying to make all of Europe into the French Empire was a leading cause of the growth of European nationalism and the establishment of liberal democracies both in Europe and in many places that Europeans had colonized. Booker's first war produced the only geopolitical world order Nile has ever known and I just have so many feelings ok. Nile the art history nerd is probably not aware of this, and why would she be? This humble meta author is, like Nile, a product of US public schools, and all they taught me about world history was Ancient Greece/Rome/Egypt/Mesopotamia and then World War 2. Being raised in The World's Only Superpower is WEIRD.

Nile the Young Millennial is used to the devastating volume of bad news the internet makes possible. But she has absolutely no concept of a world where the United States of America is not The World's Only Superpower. In order to get up in the morning and put on her gear and point guns at civilians in Afghanistan, she can only let herself think so much about whether that American exceptionalism thing is a good idea.

She's about to spend many, many years where the only people who she can truly trust are people who are older than not only her country but the IDEA of countries.

She's got time, and she's got a lot of new information at her disposal. But there comes a point where my obsession with her friendship and eventual very hot sex life with Booker just isn't about sex at all. Nile needs someone to talk to about the United States who Gets It. Booker the rat Frenchman coerced into Napoleon's army, and Copley the Black dual citizen of the US and UK who's retired from a CIA career that he half understands as deeply problematic but half still believes in hence his mind-bogglingly stupid partnership with Merrick, are the only people on the planet Nile can talk to honestly about, and really be understood in, all the thoughts and feelings and fears and hopes of her experience as a US Marine.

And one more thing before I go get ready for Rosh Hashanah: Orientalism was a defining element of the Crusades and that legacy is painfully clear in current US-led Western military activity in Afghanistan, Syria, Israel/Palestine, you name it. Turns out memoirs by French veterans of the Napoleonic Wars are full of Orientalist language about Russia as well. I am maybe/definitely writing a fic where Booker spends his exile reading critical race theory and decolonial feminism and trauma studies monographs because he can't be honest with a therapist but maybe he can heal this way and become the team therapist his own damn self. I just really need him to read Edward Said and Gloria Anzaldúa and then go down on Nile, ok?

#nile freeman #tog meta #book of nile #sebastien le livre #the old guard #mine #us imperialism #european imperialism #jewish things #antiblackness #police violence #orientalism