#I mean it’s DEPRESSED SPACE BREAD

[ziggy-scardust]

So I have just discovered that a wildly popular children’s cartoon character in Germany is „Bernd das Brot“, Bernd the Bread, who is a clinically-depressed loaf of bread who flies in space.

That’s it. That’s the plot. And I’ve never been so thankful in my LIFE for the fact that I speak German. This is absolute gold. It’s an entire show with the plot “Chronically-Depressed Bread Goes to Space” and I have never felt more SEEN in my entire life.

This is the Wikipedia page. After a brief description, it has the sections “Role on KI.KA” (the children’s tv channel), “Production”, “Reception”, and “Kidnapping”. This is the best thing I’ve seen all day. I’m so, so thrilled to live in this world where people KIDNAP SEVEN-FOOT STATUES OF DEPRESSED SPACE BREAD to national uproar.

If I ever go to space, I want my callsign to be Astrobrot.

[thediktatortot]

Don't mind me, I'm just fucking depressed

[diabeticgirl4]

I just got the sudden Absolute Need to bake a loaf of peanut butter banana bread, which is a terrible thing bc I went grocery shopping yesterday, and I have no reason to go again for another week or so (no I'm not making a trip just to buy bananas and nothing else) so I have to wait a week or so, buy bananas, wait for them to brown enough, and by then it's gonna be like a month later and I'm gonna be stuck wondering why I have a bunch of bad bananas bc a month ago I had the random urge to bake banana bread

[mochidoie]

CO-

kim doyoung x reader wc - 8.7k genre - very slow burn, frenemy to lovers (light banter), coworkers!au, roomates!au warnings - a small kiss scene

You and Doyoung coexist in two specific ways: cohabitation and as coworkers. However, your friendship, if you can call it that, is far from besties and more on being cordial with one another. Nonetheless, in this dreary corporate world, he is the only one who just gets you and despite his coldness, he feels the same about you.

Doyoung annoyingly types on his keyboard in the cubicle next to you, completely disrupting your concentration and general workflow. Groaning, you hope that it was enough to signify how irritated you were. However, instead of the obnoxious typing coming to a halt, it intensifies tenfold and catches the attention of everyone else who sits on this floor.

Embarrassment washes over your body as you forcibly stand up and peer over the short wall that divides both of your desks. “Knock it off.” You gently smack the back of Doyoung’s head and he winces forward, looking up at you immediately with a glare.

“I’m seriously going to report you to HR one day.” He whispers, his threat just barely sounds legitimate. Doyoung is the greatest at bluffing and empty threats. 

“Well today won’t be the day. You’re typing so loud that it could be a noise complaint.” Rolling your eyes, you drop back down into your seat. Smoothly swiveling your chair back to the intimidating project blown full screen on your monitor, you dread every minute of being here. Your day is full of reports, documentations, and boring project meetings. 

You’ll have small talk about the weather in the break room over some watered down coffee made by a machine and happy hours on random days of the week at the nearby upscale restaurant.

You’ll run into someone from another department on the elevators and feel awkward for several floors until one of you finally gets out. Hiding in the bathroom is the only escape from the depressing gray carpet and fluorescent indoor lighting. 

“You could make this a more enjoyable workplace if you didn’t sigh every three minutes.” Doyoung walks around to your cubicle, crossing his arms like the prick he always is.

“I’m sighing because you keep typing for all of the world to hear you.” You turn in your chair, facing him once again with your lips in a line. “Get out of my space.”

“I’m not in your space.” You watch as he slyly backs up from the wall, the tips of his shoes barely skimming the invisible line that crosses into your cubicle. “What is the bad mood for today?” Doyoung raises an eyebrow.

You despise when someone points out your attitude, it just feels completely unnecessary to bring up in conversation. However, you are normally less mean to him and Doyoung was a sensitive individual. “Rough start this morning, my bread got jammed in the toaster and flat tire on my way to work.”

“This is why I tell you to use the oven and to carpool with me. The carbon footprint we could minimize by just using one car is astronomical.” He shoves his hands into his pressed pants pockets, “I guess this is why I didn’t see your car in the lot this morning.”

“It’s in the shop. I’m out of a car for about two weeks because they found something wrong with the engine or something.” 

“Just your luck.”

You groan, “are you just going to nag and pity me, or are you going to offer me a ride home?” 

Doyoung puts his hands up in the air, as he often speaks with his hands. “You’re always welcome to ride with me. You just normally refuse.” 

“Yeah, because it looks weird if we got into the same car together.” 

He shrugs, “people already know we live together. What’s the big deal about it?”

“It’ll look like we’re … you know… Together.” You keep your voice down to a whisper, afraid for any nosy ears listening into business they aren’t a part of. Doyoung nearly throws himself forward laughing at your shifty eyes and your sheepish statement.

“Seriously? I think people can tell we’re far from ever being together.” Ouch. Not that you had any romantic interest in this vile man, but it was a bigger blow to your ego if anything.

It’s also the way Doyoung says it. It’s pure mockery, a joke that you even though there was a slim chance at the consideration of you two being together. 

You shrug him off, ignoring how snobby he is being. “People make rumors. Someone who isn’t close to us can see me getting into your car and get the wrong idea.” Turning around, Doyoung takes the signal that he probably pissed you off more than he intended to.

He sighs and walks up behind your chair. Placing two hands on your shoulders, you slightly flinch at the sudden physical contact. Doyoung leans down to whisper gently into your ear, “let them think what they want.” It sends a shiver down your spine and you don’t have a snarky comment to say back to him.

The sound of his shuffling disappears as he returns back to his side and resumes his typing. You aren’t excited to tackle the task in front of you, if anything, you wish Doyoung annoyed you for a bit longer.

The suffocating dullness of the office wrings any ounce of creativity out of you. You’re like a wet towel that was left too long out in the sun and now you’re all dry and crunchy. 

A swoosh notification catches your eye, a new email from your manager in your inbox for you to worry about. Letting out another sigh of the day, you’re wondering what minuscule thing she needs now. The subject line already has you rolling your eyes and did you really want to open it? Not really. 

FROM PATRICIA A.

HALLOWEEN CELEBRATION: HH AT 127 BAR AND RESTAURANT

Hello Team,

I hope you’re all having a productive day so far. Our VPs have organized a company happy hour for all to attend. Please refer to the infographic attached to this email for information in regards to the Halloween happy hour event that is being held next week at the 127 Bar and Restaurant. 

RSVP through here by the EOD on Friday. Your attendance is highly encouraged as this will be a chance for everyone to network and chat with our VPs. Appropriate Halloween costumes are mandatory for attendance to be considered. Hope to see you all there. 

Best, Patricia A. Regional Manager 

“Costumes, are you fucking kidding me?” You hear Doyoung over your wall, followed by a ferocious clicking noise. 

“Don’t worry, Kim. You won’t need one, you’re already scary looking as is.” Jumping up, you place your elbows on the counter of his wall and peer over him. Doyoung rolls his eyes and stands to level the eye contact.

“You might want to get one, don’t want our VPs to get too scared seeing your face.” His eyebrow raises as he watches your face contour in disgust. He scoffs, closing his laptop and putting his monitor on sleep mode. He makes his way out to the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Your nosiness gets the best of you, not that you actually cared much about Doyoung’s whereabouts.

“On my way to ask our pretty receptionist what costume she’s going in.” He smirks, making a direct line toward the elevators. Slumping back into your chair, you hover your cursor over the RSVP link. Another damn happy hour. 

Doyoung whistles his way out of the elevator as it dings on the lobby level of the office. Around the corner, he is met with the office receptionist with her hair neatly framing her face and red lips curving into a smile as she greets him. 

“Good afternoon Daisy, how are you today?” He rummages through the candy bowl full of mints and dental gum, despite never really caring for sweet cavity inducing treats.

Daisy leans forward on her desk with her sweet smile never leaving her pretty face. “I’m good, how are you?” She knows Doyoung as the man that would often stop by at random hours of the day for small talk and a mint. Not entirely knowing that he was mostly there to see her, she indulges in the light conversation with the nice man. 

“Happy that it’s Thursday, as usual.” Doyoung tears the mint wrapper with his teeth. His forearm is placed comfortably on the counter of the desk as he leans forward chatting with Daisy. 

“Friday is so close.” Daisy says excitedly, clapping her hands together in a cheery youthful manner. “Any weekend plans?”

“Probably going to see the new movie in theaters with a friend.” Truthfully, Doyoung never really has weekend plans set. He spends his weekends indoors and locked behind his door. A true mystery as to what he does behind it. “Not sure though, I’ll see how I’m feeling in the morning.”

“Yeah, I get that. I try to get out of my house during the weekend so that I’m still productive, even though all I want is to relax in bed.” She chuckles and instantly, Doyoung smiles at her relatability and honesty. Her energy is contagious, he always feels a burst whenever he speaks to her. 

“Hey, I mean to ask, do you have a costume in mind for the happy hour next week?” Doyoung suckles the spicy peppermint, rocking it back and forth between each cheek. Daisy ponders for a second and he finds an opportunity to make a very bad joke. “Anything to do with flowers perhaps? Because you’re Daisy.” He laughs at his own joke and she lightly gives in to such a corny question.

“That would be funny,” she laughs, “but I’m not sure if I can attend. I let Patricia know that I’ll be attending my boyfriend’s sister’s engagement party that night.” What a glass shattering moment as Doyoung was not aware that Daisy had a boyfriend. Then again, a woman like her wouldn’t be stuck being single and moping about her sad love life like his own cubicle roommate coworker, y/n.

“Darn, we’ll miss you there then.” Doyoung finds a way to exit the conversation, knowing his heart is already breaking thinking about Daisy spending her weekends out and about with another man. The fantasy of her is ruined.

“Aw, thank you Doyoung.” Daisy reaches underneath her desk and pulls out a familiar looking earbud case, “also, are you able to hand this back to y/n? They dropped this on their way in, but they were already rushing into an elevator before I could catch them. You two are dating, right?”

Doyoung’s lips part open in shock, hearing those words come from Daisy’s mouth entice a strange feeling. His initial reaction is to deny it, clearly, but she looks at him with such awe that he doesn't know what to say. “Where did you hear that?”

“Oh, I overheard a few people chatting about you two. I think people said you two moved in with each other after 5 months of dating.” Daisy innocently explains. “My boyfriend and I could never move in together, at least, not yet. I feel like we have to hit that two year mark before deciding to do so.” 

He chuckles awkwardly, unsure what he is more surprised about: Daisy’s boyfriend or the fact that there are actual rumors that he and y/n are dating. “We’re not dating, just roommates. We’re not even really close.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I really thought you two were dating. Please don’t tell them I said anything.” Daisy covers her mouth and Doyoung accepts the earbuds. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He forces a smile, bidding a small see you later to Daisy before heading back upstairs to his boring job. The dating rumor invades every part of his thoughts as he tosses the case back and forth between his hands. He is going to murder whoever spread such a heinous lie.

“Maybe we should stagger when we leave. I’ll go first and start my car, then you come down ten minutes later, walk around the lot and then get into my car.” Doyoung nibbles on his granola bar, leaning against the sink counter. Drying your tupperware, you stare at him in confusion.

“Why such an elaborate plan to just go home?” You question.

Doyoung shakes his head at you, as if you don’t think about the potential risks lying ahead. “Like you said, people start rumors so we should be careful.” 

Halting all your actions completely, you blink blankly at a nervous Doyoung. “You heard something, didn’t you?” 

“When did I–”

“Doyoung, I will rip that granola bar out of your hand. What was it?” 

He neatly places the wrapper back on, setting it down and crossing his arms. “There are rumors of us dating and that we moved in with each other after five months of dating, which in itself is already ridiculous. Obviously, I would wait longer than that to move in with my partner because you never really know if you’d last with that person and then, you’re stuck in an awkward living situation if you ever break up.” Doyoung huffs and puffs. 

Your facial expression doesn’t change, remaining completely unamused and blank as you listen to this man aimlessly derail from the main point. “Thanks for that.” Your tongue clicks and sarcasm laces your words. “I told you, didn’t I?”

“You have to be right all the time, don’t you?” He scoffs, annoyed and grows impatient with your lack of reaction. 

“Uh, with you? Most definitely.” You laugh, which Doyoung does not expect. “People are so bored here that they’ll make up the weirdest out of pocket thing about someone else. Us interacting is enough ammo for them to shoot some made up scenario.” 

“How are you so unphased by this?” 

You pack up your lunch boxes into your bag, “because I know none of it is true. I can barely stand you.” Pausing, you turn to face Doyoung fully. Your hand lightly pats his chest and he watches your every movement, the distance between the two of you closing in. “Like you said, let them think what they want.”

Now, it is Doyoung’s turn to remain speechless at the statement. He should really listen to his own advice.

When you were desperate for a place to live, it did come to your surprise that Doyoung came to your rescue. You two are very distant friends from college, a more accurate title would be acquaintances. Being in the same few clubs made him a familiar figure, but never anyone you personally got close to or spoke much with.

However, there was no harm in networking post-grad. If anything, it became an advantage to come from a big club with so many people aligned in the same field to gain insight into different companies, internships, and  potential job offers. You landed your current adult job with the help of a few connections and chats at career fairs. 

Nonetheless, the offer to move into Doyoung’s apartment was conditional. He had been laid off of his previous work and had to find a new job as soon as he could. Doyoung was able to land the job at your current company through your referral and you were approved to be a co-signer on the lease of the apartment. It felt fated to be and everything fell into its place perfectly, if only you two were compatible. 

The thing with Doyoung is that he always gave off a vibe that he was stuck up and prude. You also had an impression he didn’t like you during college due to you sleeping with his friend, Jaehyun, and breaking his heart when you didn’t want a relationship with him. When you first moved in, you gave Doyoung a lot of leeway but he always treated you coldly. At some point, you had enough of it and decided that he should get a taste of his own attitude. 

Nevertheless, your friendship worked better this way. You’re not entirely sure of the psychology behind it, but Doyoung seemed to communicate with you easier when you were at each other’s throats. All those enemies to lovers tropes you would read growing up were finally making sense to you. 

You two did grow closer when living together, but definitely not to the point where you two were best friends. Doyoung still kept you at arm's reach and so did you. There are a lot of things about him that you didn’t know about, it was quite actually last month that you learned that Doyoung had an older brother. It was only because he had stopped by to drop off some food for him from his mom. 

Doyoung is not the type to warm up to someone quickly, resembling a locked cabinet and a key that is lost somewhere. He is just waiting for the right person to find it. Due to this, you two live very separately at home. Doyoung is quick to rush into his own room and you’re often the one to wander around the living space before finding your way back to yours. 

So on this random weekend, you’re wondering why there is a soft knock at your door. Kicking the blankets off of your body, you rush over to open your closed bedroom door to reveal a messy bed hair Doyoung in his bunny pajama pants. 

“Hey, good….” Doyoung checks the time on his phone to be sure, lifting one eyebrow at your sleepy expression. “Evening.” 

“What do you want?” You groan, ready to let the door hit him in the face. “I get enough of you at work.” You rub your eyes to rid any junk stuck on your lashes. 

“Since your car is in the shop, I was wondering if you needed a ride to run any errands or to grab food. You haven’t left your room the whole day, so you must be hungry.”  His eyes dart left and right, avoiding eye contact as best as he can. Doyoung looks so sheepish, like a deer caught in headlights.

You can’t help, but laugh. “Aw, are you caring for me right now?” 

His face contours into complete disgust. “Not really. I just don’t want to find your dead body in the apartment and potentially get sued for negligence.”

“Well, I’m not hungry.” In that moment, your body couldn’t have had better timing. Your stomach rumbles loudly and Doyoung just blinks at you until it passes. 

You both break out into laughter, “fine, what are you getting for dinner?”

“There’s a new place in town that I’ve been eyeing. A bit upscale, if you’re down.” Doyoung starts walking toward his room, eyebrow raised and waiting for your confirmation. 

“You’re paying.” You close the door before he could protest. You and Doyoung have shared a few meals together, but nothing consistent. It’s not awkwardness that stops the both of you, but that there really isn’t much to chat about over a plate of food. Besides work, you two don’t share any of the same interests or the same circle of friends. 

On top of that, Doyoung would never open up over a sirloin steak. He barely opens up with a bottle of wine. You’ve given up trying to interrogate him with endless questions about his personal life, he never really asks about yours anyways. 

Though, meals with Doyoung aren’t entirely dreadful. His refined palate and hefty paycheck allows for you a delicious culinary experience. You’d never admit it, but eating with him was much better than eating alone.

Dressing for the occasion, you step out in an entirely new and refreshed vibe. Doyoung nearly chokes at the sight of you, not used to seeing you all dolled up and well, nicely dressed. Unintentionally, the accents of your colors match and Doyoung takes note of it, not throwing much of a fit as he usually would. 

“Matching is not a bad thing.” Doyoung clears his throat, hands slipping into his pressed pants and obvious aversion to eye contact.

“Matching with you it might be.” You snicker, but loved your attire too much to change into something else for the night. Both of you head out for dinner and you catch a whiff of something vibrant as Doyoung follows into his car. 

“New cologne?” The strap of the seat belt rustles in the quiet vehicle. Doyoung doesn’t say anything, turning on the engine and pulling out of the parking space with ease.

There is a long moment of silence, at this point you’ve concluded that he probably completely ignored your question. However, after a few blocks, Doyoung follows up with his own inquiry, “you like it?” 

Raising a brow, you’re finding his behavior quite peculiar tonight. It’s a bit unsettling and rather confusing. “I prefer your usual clean scent. This citrus doesn’t match you.”

Without a word of protest, Doyoung grins to himself at your words. Though, you’re too busy scrolling on your phone and participating in the usual silent atmosphere of the car ride.

“Have you thought of your Halloween costume for the happy hour?” Doyoung delicately cuts into his flank, twirling the piece of meat in the brown gravy that was neatly swirled on the plate.

You shrug, popping the broccolini into your mouth. There hasn’t been much thought about that email since it dropped in your inbox. If anything, you hadn’t even considered the fact that it was already October.  It felt like just yesterday you were on a rooftop bar in the warm summer sunset. 

“Any ideas?” You pat your hands on the cloth napkin on your lap, eyebrow raised toward Doyoung. Not that this man would give you any good ideas, you’re already settling on your last ditch effort costume you always went as during your college years.  

The restaurant is incredibly fancy, way more than you had been anticipating when he had mentioned it being a little upscale. It is moderately loud inside, but nothing above light chatter and the jazz music still audible over the voices. You two had been seated right away, the hostess having starry eyes the moment she saw Doyoung walk in. 

The waiters referred to you with proper titles and offered the wine of the night, placing it in its own separate small table. Anyone could have mistaken you and Doyoung for being a couple on a date, perhaps celebrating an anniversary or a nice date night. 

While at any other occasion you would make it incredibly obvious that isn’t the case, the food is too immaculate for you to care. The tenderness of your meat is melt worthy and the taste of garlic butter hits your palette lovingly. You were too busy indulging in the meal before Doyoung had spoken.

“Maybe something with a mask.” Doyoung responds after a rather long thoughtful silence. 

Your face deadpans, rolling your eyes at how silly it was to even ask him for a serious suggestion. “Ha! So funny.” Your sarcasm bites at his skin.

He flinches slightly at your tone, but places his fork and knife on the white table cloth. He wipes his lips with his napkin, “I’m not saying it to be mean. I meant it as a masquerade.” 

“Why would I wear a mask the whole night in front of our VPs?”

Doyoung shrugs in return, “isn’t the point of Halloween pretending to be someone you’re not? Or trying to hide behind a facade?” 

“That’s too philosophical. Halloween is about tricks, treats and pumpkins.” He laughs at your explanation, bringing the rim of his wine glass to his lips.

“That’s one way to view it.” He unbuttons his cufflinks and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. Your eyes wander before your mind could remind you it's Doyoung you’re gawking at. “I might go with a mask, like a masked prince of some kind.” 

You laugh, “yeah, I’m sure Daisy will swoon over that.”

Doyoung doesn’t smile, instead he clears his throat uncomfortably. “She has a boyfriend and she’s not going.”

“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that your work crush has been diminished.” You pout, quite insincerely and mockingly. Doyoung scoffs at your statement, rolling his eyes at how he’s willing to entertain this. 

“It was never going to work out anyways. She thought you and I were together.” The statement nearly causes you to choke on your wine. He raises an eyebrow at the slight break in your careless reactions. 

“Wow, it traveled all the way to our receptionist. That’s how you know the whole office practically knows about it.” However, he read it all wrong as you began to speak. Your nonchalant answers bring Doyoung no reassurance as he watches with a quizzical look as you eat your mashed potatoes. 

“Maybe you like the thought of us being together.” Doyoung snickers. He doesn’t mean it, but he did want to shake up the atmosphere to see how playful he can get with you. 

You kick his shin under the table and he lightly jumps, “calm down, prince. Don’t want the commoners to know how much of a narcissist you are.” Narrowing your eyes at him, you grumble. The mashed potato now tasted a bit sour from Doyoung’s jokes. 

“C’mon, seriously? Do you actually think that I’m a narcissist?” Doyoung places a hand on his chest, as if you could be referring to anyone else. He is so dramatic, you think to yourself as you see him tap away a fake tear.

So you decide to be truthful and slightly hurtful, simply because he asked for it. “Yes, I genuinely do at times.” Your powerful tone in your words shocked Doyoung a bit, his head shaking a bit from the actual truth.

“Oh,” He clears his throat awkwardly, halting his playful demeanor. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to come off that way.” This is the first time you’ve seen him completely vulnerable in his apology. It is a sharp difference compared to his usual snarky “my bad” or “oops”. 

The hurt on his face is evident, pursing his lips on the rim of his wine glass and the thoughts flooding his heavy head. A part of you feels guilty, wondering if a line had been drawn. 

“Unfortunately, you’re still a likable person as people say.” You clear your throat and shift nervously in your seat. Doyoung looks up through hood eyes at your compliment, but holds back the grin that itches to form on his lips. 

Something about his gaze almost makes you falter, “why did you choose such a fancy place for dinner?” 

“Because I genuinely wanted to see what this place was all about. I’ve been hearing Greg from Finance brag about how he’s eaten here for the past two weekends.” Doyoung lightly taps the table with his index finger, like a habit he couldn’t grow out of.

“You let Greg of all people talk you into a $200 bill?” You can’t hold the laugh back because of how ridiculously easy Doyoung can be swayed by someone else’s opinions. “And what do you think about dinner tonight?

Doyoung may have mistaken the implication in your question — if there even was one. He halts his rhythmic tapping, sitting up to straight out his wrinkled shirt and gazing upon you right in front of him. 

“Dinner was…” The bill lands on the edge of the table and Doyoung flips open the book with one flick. He breaks focus from you for a quick second to look at the final grand number on the thin piece of paper. You barely get a glimpse, as he places his card down and shuts it swiftly. 

His eyes back fully on you, “most definitely worth it.” The smile on Doyoung’s face isn’t menacing or mockery, you’re completely convinced that it’s a smile meant for you. And, you’re unsure how to interpret the butterflies that flutter at the pit of your stomach. 

As if the day couldn’t get any worse, you walk into work with everyone in some bizarre work appropriate costume and staring at you as if you’re the odd one out. Your costume is in your bag, which Doyoung so graciously let you leave in the trunk of his car before coming in. However, you’re wondering if it's too late to dash back outside to grab it so you fit in with everyone else. 

“Good morning, y/n!” Daisy, a very chirpy and red painted smile, greets you routinely. Cute flower clips line her hair perfectly and the all green attire can only mean one thing: she is a flower. “What’s your costume?”

Laughing nervously, you’re finding a way out of this small talk. “It’s a surprise! You’ll see when we all leave for happy hour tonight.”

“I might be going before then, but please stop by if you have the time to get it on earlier.” She happily smiles, bidding you a small “have a good day!” before returning her focus back to her screen.

The elevator stops on your floor and it’s as if Jack Skellington came overnight and vomited Halloween all over the cubicles. There always has to be that one coworker who is obsessed with the holiday and they lovingly decorated the office before everyone came in. Including yours and Doyoung’s cubicle.

You’re awkwardly shuffling past your coworkers, saying small good mornings and getting weird looks. However, you’re trying very hard to not draw attention to being the only one not dressed up. A tiny baby pumpkin sits in front of your monitor and a neatly wrapped ghost cookie with your name written on a post it note awaits you. 

“Good morning!” Your coworker’s head pops from over the wall and incites a startled scream from you. Of course, she’s laughing giddily at successfully scaring the living out of you. 

“Hey Mariel, good morning. Did you make these?” There is no second guessing who else would be this enthusiastic about Halloween than Mariel is. She talked your ear off the day it hit October 1st about ghouls, goblins, and ghosts.

She even had a spooky countdown calendar of the days until the 31st. On top of that, she was the only one overly excited about the Halloween happy hour the moment the email hit everyone’s inbox.

“Of course. I do a baking side gig, I had to bring in a few spooky friendly treats for everyone in office!” She rests her chin on her palm and squints her eyes at you, “where’s your costume?”

Your palms immediately get sweaty. It’s like disappointing a kid on Christmas by telling them that Santa isn’t real or your mom buying you a nice and modest dress for graduation, but you accidentally stain it. The nervousness to answer creeps up your throat and before you can speak, a voice answers for you.

“Isn’t it classic of y/n to dress up as an office worker?” Doyoung stands up in his cubicle to interject himself in the conversation. 

Mariel nearly loses a lung from how hard she laughs at Doyoung’s corny attempt at a joke. “It’s actually classic of the both of you to not wear your costumes to work.” She adds, wiping the tears from her crinkled eyes. “What’s next? Matching costumes?” 

“Mariel, it’s a surprise.” Doyoung plays it off smoothly.

“Let me guess, Barbie and Ken?” She taps the counter, like a buzzer on a game show to lock in her answer. You’re already shaking your head and Mariel frowns.

Doyoung sighs loudly and dramatically, “I know, Mar. I’d be such a good Barbie, but y/n didn’t want to give that to me.” Oh god, he’s good.

You laugh along, stiffly. “Well, that was the end of our potential matching costumes. We went our separate ways and you’ll see mine later today.” It is enough to get Mariel off of your back about not dressing up at work. Hurrying to settle your things, Doyoung walks around to your side. 

“Did you see how beautiful Daisy looked?” He muses, daydreaming about the whimsical fantasy of the office receptionist. “Must be a lucky guy.”

“She looks like a true flower.” You’re mindlessly unloading your essentials from your work bag and only half listening to Doyoung ramble. “Damn it, I left my coffee in your car.” Throwing your hands up in frustration, you’re already running late for your first meeting of the day with your supervisor. 

Doyoung doesn’t wait a second to push you back into your seat, thinking you could make a quick sprint if he had handed you his keys. “I’ll get it for you. Patricia already asked about your whereabouts.” He smoothly reaches over your shoulder to grab your laptop, the usual scent of his clean cologne brushes your nostrils lightly as the distance between you closes briefly. 

Your heart is pounding in your ears at the proximity, looking up at Doyoung’s long exposed neckline with his collarbones barely peeking out from his linen shirt. Under this dreary fluorescent office lighting, Doyoung looks rather dreamy. 

Nonetheless, you shake off this sudden and weird daydream when he hands you your laptop and makes his merry way to get you your coffee. You’ve got to be losing your mind, the mundane suffocating atmosphere of an office space is causing you to seek any thrills. You’re being delusional. You could never have feelings for Doyoung, of all the people, never Doyoung.

You come back from your meeting to your coffee neatly placed next to your monitor on a coaster and your bag with your costume in your chair. Silently, you grab your tote and rush off to the bathroom to change before anyone could notice your appearance and sudden disappearance. 

It wasn’t an extravagant costume and it was most definitely not the store bought ones from a pop-up Spirit shop. A black cat has been your go-to DIY last minute costume since college for those rendezvous frat parties or a drunk Halloween night out with your friends. Since it had to be work appropriate, a sexy black cat is out of the picture. 

Smoothing the strands of your hair to adjust the cat ear headband, you give yourself small whiskers with your black eyeliner. “Here’s to Halloween.” A small grumble to yourself, you’re out of the bathroom and briskly walking between cubicles in your slightly form fitting all black attire. 

Your head down and laying low, hoping that Mariel doesn’t notice your costume before you get to your own corner. Making it down the runway, Doyoung’s back is turned and completely working his life away. Somehow, your presence behind him causes a breakaway and he’s spinning around before you could hide back into your cubicle. 

“Thanks, Doyoung.” A small murmur escapes, but Doyoung hears you loud and clear. He doesn’t say anything, instead, his eyes rapidly take in your figure and change of attire. The cat ears on your head cause him to blush, something he didn’t know you could do to him so easily.

“A recurring costume, I’ll admit it’s better than my mask idea.” He gestures, awkwardly clearing his throat at the weird tension that rose from his obvious gawking. 

You’re puzzled, “I can’t recall a time you would’ve seen me like this.” It’s true, you two never spent a Halloween together since you had moved in with him and perhaps, those drunk college nights are too hazy for you to be too sure of yourself.

Doyoung chuckles to himself, peering down at his hands as he delightfully remembers the vivid memory of him catching a glimpse of you for the first time. “Halloween, third year. It was at the NCT yearly ‘Monster Mash’ party. I saw you briefly in the kitchen, looking through the empty bottles of liquor for a drink.”

Then it hits you! That was the night that you had arrived late to the party and almost ditched when there was no more booze left, but you encountered Jaehyun.

“That was so long ago! Wow,” your finger resting on your chin and looking back on the good ole times, “I can’t believe you remembered something like that.” Your voice grows smaller at the end of your sentence, full realization hitting you that Doyoung has known you before you had known him. He kept that memory to himself all these years.

Doyoung, also equally as shocked, feels caught in headlights. Nonetheless, something in his heart wants to open up to you and this feels like an open door opportunity. However, he isn’t sure if he is ready to ruin the dynamic the two of you share. What if he opens more than you’d take? One foot in the door, he can’t imagine this fleeting feeling would come again.

“I couldn’t get you out of my head that night.” He wholeheartedly admits and a heavy tug pulls at your heart. Your jaw drops slightly at his confession and your thoughts are running at godspeed. Doyoung’s heart is pounding in his ears. 

Before you could say anything, Mariel is walking back to her cubicle and is quick to address your costume. You’re half hearing her, mind still stuck on Doyoung’s words and wondering how differently your lives would have been if Doyoung had approached you that night instead of Jaehyun. What could have been? 

Rustic wooden panels cover the walls of The 127 Bar and Restaurant, giving it that upscale cabin/lodge-feel. Cobwebs lined with plastic spiders and pumpkins with ghoul expressions litter the corners of the counters. Festive Halloween music is muffled by the loud ambiance of chatter. You’re already counting down the hour of when it's socially acceptable for you to leave. 

Coworkers dressed in costumes is a silly concept to you, mainly because you don’t associate anything fun with work and you definitely don’t want to see your coworkers in anything else besides their slacks and button ups. Doyoung, however, beats that exception as he walks in with a black velvet cape and fake blood dribble down his chin. His suit vest is surely something straight out of his own wardrobe and there is way too much hair gel slicked in his hair.

“A vampire fits you much better than a masked prince.” Whether it is meant as an insult or a compliment, Doyoung smiles at your comment. 

“A black cat and a vampire, can we be any more cheery?” Doyoung says sarcastically, earning a small laugh as you look upon your very dark attires for the night.

Shrugging, you lightly pat his shoulder to guide him toward the VPs. “We all can’t be Daisy. She takes the cake for having optimism in this cruel corporate world. Now, let’s go get our attendance points so we can leave earlier.”

“A black cat mind reader? That elevates your costume a bit.” Doyoung smirks, leading the way to a doomful 15 minute conversation with important people. 

Doyoung surprises you by how social he can get. You two normally attend the usual happy hours that your coworkers like to have after work, but that is mostly among a few that sit on your floor. This mixer included every department and Doyoung jumps conversation to the next with ease and speed, you could hardly keep up.

“Okay, social butterfly. I haven’t heard you talk so much since college club meetings.” Raising an eyebrow, you’re stopping Doyoung from approaching another coworker dressed as a skeleton. 

“I haven’t seen you this quiet in a while. What’s wrong? Cat’s got your tongue?” He blinks at you with a dull expression.

Suddenly, you’re feeling self-conscious at how he noticed your silence. “Corporate happy hours aren’t my thing. I don’t particularly have interests with any of these people.” 

Doyoung purses his lips, “yet you seem to talk endlessly with me and we have nothing in common.” 

Clearing your throat, you’re unsure of this strange feeling in your chest. You and Doyoung have commonality in background – school, clubs, mutuals, profession – but interests seem to be way far out of scope for the two of you. While the few dinners you two would share are rather silent, it doesn’t eat you alive the same way corporate social events do. Despite the forced close proximity, you don’t know if you and Doyoung would actually be friends with each other. 

“Right, but it’s different for us.” Trying to save the sinking ship seems harder to do as you rack your brain for an argument. 

Doyoung tilts his head slightly, “different? How is it different?” In that moment, there is a shift in his demeanor as he tucks his hands into his pants pockets and leans back slightly on his heels. A hooded stare, eyebrow raised, and a smug smirk waits to hear how your relationship with Kim Doyoung is so different compared to your other coworkers. 

Feeling small under his gaze, you’re wondering why a heat travels across your cheeks. The Halloween music and robust atmosphere are completely tuned out at this point. “We have common things to talk about besides work, like mutuals! I don’t know– you just get me. Lately, I feel like you’ve been opening up a bit more.”

Doyoung nearly beams hearing the last part of your ramble because he feels exactly the same. You just get him, despite always being at each other’s throats. He knows that this banter would not work with anyone else, it had to be you.

It’s like with each interaction, you get closer to the key in unlocking everything about him. Without your knowledge, he so badly wishes you to be the one to find it. 

“Hey you two!” Greg from Finance wraps his arms around Doyoung’s shoulders, appearing rather abruptly and startling the both of you. “How was your date at Bodega 127?” 

Your eyeballs nearly fall out of your socket at the word date being thrown carelessly when referring to you and Doyoung. Doyoung reacts quite nervously and is shocked as well at the odd choice of wording Greg decided to use. 

“I wouldn’t call it a date...” Doyoung chuckles, exchanging anxious glances with you. 

“Yeah, we’re not together.” You jump in with Doyoung at denying such a bold accusation. 

“Oh, come on! There’s no need to feel embarrassed. The whole office knows already, what’s the point in trying to hide it?” Greg continues to poke the bear. 

“I can see how it might come off that way, but Doyoung and I aren’t into each other like that.” Your eyes bounce between a skittish Doyoung and an overly-pushy Greg. “Right, Doyoung, you don’t like me that way?” You’re begging him with your stare, but for some reason, Doyoung hesitates long enough for you to notice.

“Uh yeah. We’re just coworkers.” He averts making eye contact with you and you’re thrown off your tracks at how off-putting he is being. You’re trying to hold back the confusion from showing on your face, but Greg takes the bait.

“Okay, I’ll stop berating you two about your relationship. But when Doyoung told me he brought you there, I will say I thought it was for a date night y’all were having. It’s that type of restaurant experience, y’know?” Greg lightly pats Doyoung on the back before walking off to chat with another group of coworkers. 

You’re standing still next to Doyoung and wondering why the fuck he hesitated when you asked him such an easy question. He doesn’t look your way, gaze remains glued to the floor.

“I think we should leave now.” He says, dashing toward Patricia to let her know of your exits. A sigh escapes your body, completely confused and lost at every feeling roaming in your chest.

The drive back home is completely silent. The elephant in the room becomes bigger at every stoplight. Most of the trip is you staring out the window, trying to process the last few scenes at the happy hour. Doyoung remains focused on the drive, so much that he forgets to put music on to distract from the stiffness in the air. 

When you two finally make it back up to the apartment, you’re the first to break the awkward silence. “Hey, uh– thanks for driving me around these past few days. The car shop told me that my car is ready tomorrow, so I won’t need to carpool with you anymore.”

He nods, despite the long sinking feeling of his heart reaching the bottom of his stomach. He has had so much fun with you lately being around him, he isn’t sure if he’s ready to go back to how things were — living so separately in the same place.

“Sorry about Greg.” Doyoung rubs the back of his neck, “I didn’t know he would say something like that.” He gently wipes off the dried fake blood on his chin.

“We’re used to it, right?” The airy, lightness in your tone puzzles Doyoung. “At least he was courageous enough to actually address it to our faces instead of contributing to the gossip in the office.” 

“He’s just a big idiot.” Doyoung unties his cape and tosses it over the couch. “I shouldn’t have told him we went together.”

It somewhat offended you, “what? You don’t want to be seen with me or something?” You toss your headband onto the dining room table, fixing your hair back to its normal state.

However, Doyoung perks up at the evident tone in your voice and the scorn in your expression. “It’s not that.” 

“You know, Doyoung, you have been really confusing lately.” There is a pause before you continue, wondering how you should word this without sounding so rash.

“First, you’re knocking on my door and asking me to dinner. Then, you’re getting me my coffee from the car. And, you hesitated back there when I said you didn’t like me and our conversations recently have been different, so open ended.” 

Doyoung leans against the couch, arms crossed and  intently listening to your speech. “Are you implying that I have feelings for you?”

He sounds so snarky that it causes your skin to crawl, frustration fuels your soul at how delusional he is making you seem. “I’m just stating the facts.” 

Doyoung scoffs, arms falling back to his sides. A minute passes, but it feels nearly like forever given the silence in the room and how his eyes are glued to the ground, full of contemplation. However, not just any careless amount of contemplation, but real and genuine assessment on how he has felt over the past two weeks with you.

He opens his mouth to speak, but falls short of formulating a coherent sentence and feels a bit choked up and confused by himself. Though, you’ve been standing there and waiting for him and the silence has made you incredibly uncomfortable. “It’s a reach. There’s no possible way for you to harbor any feelings for me. We made that really clear to each other.” 

You’re turning to hide back into your room, but Doyoung quickly stands at your door frame, alert and before you. “It’s not entirely a reach….” He mumbles, “I can’t say confidently that I have true and full romantic feelings toward you, but I have been seeing you in a romantic light.” 

“I don’t fully understand what you mean.” Your eyebrows knit together, finding that his speech sounds too much like a riddle. 

He takes a deep breath in, exhaling to calm the waking nerves in his throat. “I’m beginning to understand that some of what I feel towards you is romantic, like I don’t want to stop being around you or I want to go out of my way to do things that make your life easier.” He smirks coyly to himself, breaking the intense exchange of dialogue between the both of you briefly, “I’m an acts of service kind of guy.” 

“Look, I’m saying that yes, I think I’m starting to have feelings for you. It wasn’t until recently did I feel like we’ve really gotten to spend time together after you’ve moved in.” His shoulders drop, “and I don’t know, I just– like you said, you just get me.”

This moment between the both of you is so real. There are no gimmicks, no foul play, no teasing and banter. Doyoung means every word he is saying. While a part of you wants to joke around and say something snarky, the other part of you feels serious and rather shocked at this confession.

Never in your mind did the potential of Doyung catering feelings toward you exist. And now, even more than ever, you’re actually reflecting on your own thoughts toward him. Doyoung is the first person you want to go to in a crowded room, it’s like you’re searching for him without realizing it. He’s the one you want to rely on, knowing how capable and responsible he is. Doyoung, given the chance, can really brighten up the room. 

If there was anyone in this world he chose to open up to, you wanted it to be you. 

“Can I kiss you?” Doyoung almost stopped himself from saying it, but he had to know. Your eyes are beyond huge at his request, the sound of thumping in your chest growing in your ears.

“What?” You croak, taken aback by this random out-of-character question. Doyoung’s cheeks are as bright red as a tomato, but he doesn’t break his intense eye contact. 

“Kiss me, I want to know if my feelings are real.” He steps a bit closer with lips parted slightly, rosy cheeks, and dilated pupils. Your shaky hands slowly reach to cup his face and there the beating of your heart quickens, fast enough to where you think you could faint. 

“If we kiss and neither of us feel anything, we’ll pretend it never happened.” You’re trying to cushion any chance at rejection, so that it wouldn’t end in complete disappointment from either one of you. It’s to soften the blow. 

Nevertheless, Doyoung nods in your hot hands and brings your chin close with the pull of his finger. Your lips pucker and land gently on his, your eyes still wide open and you’re in utter shock that Kim Doyoung, the man you thought you’d never kiss, is now kissing you. 

It’s as if fuel added to a flame, the fire in your stomach grows violently at this connection. Doyoung swears he could feel a sudden spark in his tight chest, electricity running in veins.

He pulls away and the contact between you two breaks as quick as it connected. He simply blinks at you, with a cute doe-eyed expression and red cheeks. You’re blinking back, heart in your throat and a desire to kiss him again. 

“Are your feelings real?” You ask him a question you’re scared to know the answer to, worried that he didn’t feel that same fire as you did from that kiss and he’d ask to pretend it never happened.

“Real, absolutely real.” Doyoung confirms with a breathy speech. He can’t pinpoint how long these feelings have been locked away and how long he has ignored them. Nonetheless, that kiss proves so much to himself, one being that he is way more head over heels for you than he thought. 

And the next course of action he chooses may ruin your current dynamic completely, but he fully and utterly wants to commit to you. He doesn’t tell you, worried that it may scare you off when he only wishes to hold you close.

The two of you stare into each other’s eyes for a brief moment of silence with tensions high and hearts beating fast. Both are unaware of how to proceed without making things awkward or shifting too greatly from your banterful friendship. 

So, Doyoung eases in with a request so telling, but gentle enough for the two of you to agree upon. “Let me drive you to work from now on.” 

Your eyes glimmer with a shine, clearing your throat before you speak. “Is this about our carbon footprint or something else?”

He chuckles, “we’re saving the Earth while I also get to spend more time getting to know you, it sounds like a win - win situation to me.” 

“And the rumors?” 

Doyoung leans down to whisper gently into your ear, “let them think what they want.” The same shivers that ran through your body before had returned, but accompanied with butterflies dancing lovingly in your stomach.

Strange how two weeks ago, you thought that the possibility of romantically being with Doyoung was close to none and the best way to describe the two of you was that you just coexisted together. But, here you two are: standing in the middle of your shared living room with sparkling eyes for each other and a newfound excitement for a new relationship, more than just coexisting.

[spacebubblehomebase]

hi, just letting you know that ahmed 90s-ghost doesn't verify fundraisers anymore! he quit after it got too overwhelming, so you shouldn't @ him asking him to. you can probably find the post about it by searching his blog.

Thanks for letting me know, Anon...

I get it... I REALLY do.

I understand. Y'know I used to be so excited to get Asks. It means someone wants to talk about art and silly cartoon characters with me. But now all I feel is dread. Not because I don't want to help, but because the help I give is never enough. I used to privately mesage back to those Asks, but one became 6 became 10 to... Well. I can't donate. Euros and dollars are valued a lot higher here, thus the opposite is also true. The value of our money is but a paltry bread's worth and even if I split it in crumbs, with the amount of people who approach me for help, it'll soon run dry, but I'm just a student who still rely on my parents financially. So I thought I'd share instead, but that quickly got out of hand. I post one thing and get multiple asks by the HOUR. I already had to apologize for struggling to meet demands before and I only had 3 or 6 rare to come-by short Asks about art. Now I have a hundred and counting I have to check personally. I didn't want to admit it, but I've also long been overwhelmed. I just didn't feel like I had the right to say so. I still don't. But the truth is, anyone can say they're verified too, which is terrible because not only will I be partially responsible for my followers who got scammed by bots or scumbags who take advantage of those at war with fake fundraisers, but even worse is that the help and money may not even reach those who actually need it. I thought I would be fine the first time. I don't really like posting too much about our depressing reality or watching news in general because my account was supposed to be a "safe SPACE" and a "nice little BUBBLE" for us to be happy and escape for awhile, so I didn'tmthink much about rebloggingit at first. I only wanted to help. But it just kept going and I got swept away. There's so many of them, but there's only one of me and I've been spiraling lately. So for now, I will no longer take any Asks about this subject (which I always avoid mentioning directly because the algorithm has it out for putting you guys down and I wanted you all to make it so I didn't tag those reblogs with such). I'll still take Asks provided they're related to my actual content and of course I'll still support raising awareness for Pal est ine, yet I also get it if this may appear selfish to some of you. I tried. I really did. But if you'd rather ignore, unfollow, or block me for this decision, I understand. I'm just sorry it had to come to this and that I wasn't strong enough to help more. -Bubs.

[rzyraffek]

Odd request, but could you mess around with slashers x gn/male partner who gets seasonal depression or it gets worse when the weather gets crummy? It's been raining for a while where I am and could go for a little comfort, haha.

Possibly Brahms or Billy Lenz? Or anyone else you really want to write.

Can do🌼 If anything here is not accurate please feel free to let me know i really dont want to offend anyone🌺

They/them partner with masculine features okay? Because it might get confusing to read when everyone has he/him pronouns i really hope that you dont mind i just know it wil get confusing

(Sfw) (Request open)

Billy Lenz👽

What you mean seasoned depresion? Doenst sound tasty? He does not belive in long words.🙄

At first he will think that his partner will just be sad for whole winter(or other season but Winter/Autumn is pretty common) which is upsetting because he loves winter. But when he finally understands what being depressed means, he will do his best to be useful

Even if they dont have Energy to leave bed/ do anything in hause, he will stay with them, at first he might talk but if they arent in mood for that he will just keep them company. Its his way of saing 'hey im here for you its gonna to be okay🌼'

He cant cook but if he sees that they were avoiding food latley or just not leaving their room for a while, he will bring them choco pudding

If his partner is cis-man and they grow a bread(and it gives them disphora) he will help them shave it. Like yeah Billy is silly chaotic goblin man but u seen him? Either he has testosterone level -5 or he knows how to shave

Also if they feel bab when weather is gloomy he will just cover the Windows? No Windows=no weather affecing them, easy😎😎😎 (thats billy saying that not me)

Overall 9/10 wont force them to talk to him and will give food

Brahms Heelshire

He knows what it is, but its still heartbreaking to see them like that

If depresion goes hard like hard to the point they cant leave the bed. You remeber how in every Brahms headcanons i mension that you have to help this guy take a Bath? Yep its reverse now. Now He takes care of them

I know that Brahms is a lil bebi boi lil shmol bebi men, but he can get mature if he wants to, he will bring them tea, headpats and warm words. He will probably avoid talking at first, but its because he feels like walking on minefild, NOT because of them being depresed, but because he knows that he sometimes gets angy at random stuff and he really desnt want to yell at them

Hes more happy to give them hugs and lay in bed with them (of couse if they want to)

He will try light up the mood with good dinner or a nice walk around the mansion.

Will spend more time with you, but if you need space he will understand

Overall 8/10 tries his best to light up the mood by being romantic gentleman. Will bring you tea -2 points for being british

Yautja (hes here only because i have funny ideas)

Wym mental health?? Season makes ur brain go not good?? I- my beloved we are on spaceship rn wym

The idea of depresion itself is pretty new for him, so they need to teach him

He will go 😨wym you sick in mind and theres no medicine? 😓aww man 😍 i guess I will stay by urside and help you with anythin u want😈

This guy will pick you up and carry you everywhere u need to be. U need to take a shower? Boom. You are hungry? Watch him speerun cook some pasta with salt and kechup (he has No clue how to food)

Will cuddle

Again if any of those make their partner uncomfortable he wpnt do it, those are just sugestions. Also I know that depresed people arent just little sad bolls without Energy to get out of bed. But he doesnt know that! He didnt know depresion exsisted till 3minutes ago!

6/10 acts like his lover is shmol sad Ball, and will baby them around

[notfknapplicable]

I saw your tag about Sense8 on that post about how some 9-1-1 fans reacted to Buck and Tommy flirting and I just wanted to let you know it really tickled me (and also you're 100% right)

Oh hunny. The first time we see the heroic trans lesbian hacktivist character, she is receiving the strap from her Black lesbian girlfriend in the gayest place on earth. All to cure a headache that turns out to be much, much more. But some folks are clutching their pearls over a throwaway daddy kink joke made between two boyfriends eating dinner. I mean, we all know why they're in their feelings about it (because they want their own ship to be canon and are searching for any way to bash the Tommy character because he's been paired with one half of said ship) and they are absolutely showing their asses in the worst way.

I've been participating in fandoms and fan spaces for literal decades and I am no stranger to a ship war. But I've really never seen anything like this. I can only compare it to what happened with Arrow when they managed to bully the writers into getting rid of the Green Arrow's canon love interest in favor of a raging Mary Sue, and it made the show demonstrably worse. I really hope that they are not able to pull that off with 9-1-1 because I think they've struck gold with BuckTommy. It makes the most sense, and also let's keep it 100 here - Eddie is straight. The creators and the actor has said as much many, many times. Personally I try not to pay much attention to what creators and actors have to say because I feel like it poisons the well of fanworks and fandom, but some folks don't wanna accept that this shit walks and talks like a duck. Eddie is a heterosexual. It's on screen in the text and it's come down from the people actually creating the show.

I have only been watching this show since two Saturdays ago and I gotta say that the tinhats and BoBs here are WILD. The other day I saw a post suggesting that someone bomb the studio because of BuckTommy. Not to mention the posts claiming pain, suffering, and mental anguish over their ship not being canon after years of "campaigning." These folks either have no idea or don't want to accept that the industry simply doesn't work that way, not to mention HEY it's just a tv show you should NOT be letting it have THIS much power over you. If you're really slipping into depression over not seeing two fictional white men slappin' each other's meat, then there's something more at play here. I don't really wanna get into all of that, but I do wish those people healing.

Also, as a newbie, all of this drama and mudslinging has only made me more resolute in my decision to support the canon ships and canon queers of this program. Watching Buddie shippers get legit unhinged (bombing the studio? harassing actors on their personal social media? reviewing bombing?) over fictional people does not make me wanna break bread with them. I like plenty of non-canon queer ships (most of mine aren't canon, actually) and at one time I might have been down to get on board with that ship, but uhhhhhhh not now.

[yongislong]

little person.

genre: yuta x reader (but you can imagine anyone in his place of it brings you comfort) angst, sad, domestic, fluff, suggestive ish, sad hours boink, self indulgent

cw/note: mentions of reader wearing makeup but gn, angsty, talks of depression, anxiety, isolation, money issues, college, heavy topics, love can't cure mental illness at all, but it's nice to be comforted yknow? inspired by pull by christian leave and little person by matt maltese, please give them a listen, not proofread...

overwhelmed is an understatement.

with college payment deadlines, chapters due, essays, campus life and being a full time server, it's not surprising how yuta noticed your burn out so quickly.

he would always nag you for working so hard, especially when you downplayed yourself so much. you were clearly burning the wick at both ends yet constantly referred to yourself in reference to being lazy and lacking. he never understood why.

you were clearly working yourself to the bone. even mark noticed when he came over to paint his nails with yuta one night, you busting through the front door with a tired smile and a promise of seeing him next time when you're not so sleepy and smell like stale bread. always waving them off like nothings wrong, while limping to the shared bathroom inside your room on the other side of the hallway. eyes sunken and face pale. makeup smeared. alongside a throwaway comment about how awful a customer had been to you.

but you really didn't think anything was wrong. i mean, you're doing what you're supposed to do. people are going through much worse than you and working a lot harder. sometimes it didn't seem fair that you thought to put yourself first.

yuta made it his mission to make you feel better.

you woke up after him. patting the empty space next to you. opening your eyes and shutting them almost as fast as the light from the blinds ajar burned the edges of your pupils, causing you to wipe along your lash line.

oh my god.

thrashing awake with heavy breaths and shaky palms you slam your hands down on your nightstand in an effort to reach your phone.

12:47. OH MY GOD?!

"oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, no, no, no, this is not happening, fuck..." you muttered, trying to gather your things and running to the bathroom to wash your face and grab your uniform for the night. rushing into the kitchen you see yuta, shirtless, back facing you as he seems busy with a pan in hand. swaying to the music playing from his earbuds. sweatpants low on his hips, tattoo on full display. pink gem belly ring sparkling.

"why didn't you wake me up babe?!? yuta!!!!! uhghhhg!!" you stomped over to him, pulling your hair up in a banana clip while making your way over, tapping his shoulder once you reached him. he seemed equally as confused as you are once he spun around, especially now that you're desperatly tugging your his shirt over your head to change. with a frantic look in your eyes.

"huh? babe, babe, hey.... not that i mind... but chill out, you have a free day today" he smiles softly, letting his hand travel from where he moved his headphones to grip your hips, lightly pulling you forward and pecking your cheekbone.

"what are you on about?? i have lecture today, and i'm already late, can you drive me. please? oh my god im so sorry i woke up late, oh fuck i hope i turned in my lit review last night... was it due... fuck i have to do my quiz today too, i'll get off work too late though..." you muttered under your breath in between gasps and cringes as you go back to trying to slip on your socks and shoes.

"relax, h-hey, y/n, darling, stop... i called your professors and boss last night, you need to rest. and you're going to. i'll help you do something if it's due tonight but the next two days will be spent here... with me!" he coos, a contrast from the smirk falling on his lips as you slow down your movements from where you were perched on the hardwood floor. yuta towering over your figure.

he sinks down on the ground with you, letting the wire from his headphones rest on his neck, the buds clinking subtly, as he moves to smooth his hand over your bare thigh in an effort to ground you.

"yu, what are you talking about, i- i can't, i cant. no! i-" you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes. you were freaking out. mostly because you felt bad. and you were fine, right? i mean doesn't everybody feel this tired? you couldn't have had yuta so worried that he took it upon himself to halt you in your tracks... right? you don't even work that hard...

reaching for your wrists, he pries away your hands from your puffy face "yes. yes you are y/n. you're so clearly burnt-out! im proud that you're working hard but you're disappearing in front of me babe... you just seem... so sad..." he frowns, dipping his head low to meet where your eyes stayed glued to the floor, "i can't fathom how you don't think you work hard. you do. and you do so much. i hate it when you say its what you have to do. that you're just doing what everyone else does and that you feel you don't have a right to feel drained. you could've given up a long time ago but you haven't. why are you so hard on yourself? hmph? please don't treat me like a stranger, i want you to be able to be transparent with me. i don't judge and you know that, especially not when it comes to you. so please just forget about everything for a while. i know it's only two days but i want you to relax yes," he ends his monologue with a breathy chuckle. " and ugh, yes, maybe i'm selfish and i do want to be able to wake up next to you again," he says with an eye roll and a smile. you snicker, throwing your head back slightly. he watches you in awe.

"there's that pretty laugh" he whispers, catching your chin with his pointer finger and thumb, as you lower your head back down and uses them to angle you head to look up at him from where he pulled you onto his lap on the floor. you hadn't even noticed how close you both had gotten during his confession. but you didn't mind.

he catches your lips with his as you part them, the beginnings of a response to his words are swallowed up by his mouth as he kisses you like he hasn't seen you in months. you pull away softly, he chases your mouth, leaving two or three more soft pecks on your cupids bow before burying his face in the sliver of you neck revealed from how the collar of his old, worn, shirt lays against your shoulders.

he knows you're thankful by the way he can feel your heart beating out of your chest. the hands still holding your wrists can feel the way your pulse changed when he kissed you, and how it never slowed down, even after he stopped. he doesn't need to hear you say it.

the butter that was once melting on the stove was now long forgotten, the crackles from the gas stove and the rattling of you tiny cat's collar bell created background noise.

yuta lifted his head up from the junction in your neck, smiling drowsily, as if he had drank two bottle of soju. his long hair made purchase over his eyes he laughed giddily though his nostrils.

he stood up pulling you with him. turning off the stove and dragging you back towards your shared room. the mess you had left on the kitchen floor remained untouched. stack of pancakes yuta had made were left sitting on a hello kitty plate situated on the kitchen counter. your shared black kitten followed behind your guys' feet. stretching along the edge of the bed yuta sits you on to remove the shoes you so desperately were trying to shove on. kneeled down in front of you, he kisses your shin, grinning up at you. locking his hands around your ankles, he shifts your legs to lay under the dark velvet comforter he bought.

a comfortable silence filled the room as he shuffles next to you, pressing his face up against your chest and inhaling. pulling his face up with both of your palms on his cheeks, you look at him with a soft smile and eyes glossed over.

"i love you, thank you, you have no idea, you're kind of a genius... very sneaky, it was kinda freaky," you say lowly as you both stifle laugher over the small joke you released.

"i know, i know... i love you most"

i didn't take long after this exchange for you to lull back into slumber. even in your sleep he felt your hands instinctively wrap themselves around his neck, raking lightly through the long hairs near the base of his spine. the legs he'd slung against your hips are used to pull you impossibly closer to his front. he takes his as an opportunity to crane his neck to look up at you. hair sprawled all over the satin pillowcases. a the look of comfort and peace he hasn't seen in ages.

oh yeah, he's a genius.

closing note: omg some of the stuff i wrote reminds me of my other fic :") so apologies if it seems similar LOL also??? no one writes for yuta its insane. anyways i hope this brings somone comfort or enjoyment even if it wasnt requested! i usually dont do closing notes but the top of the post was getting so cluttered TT

[art-of-mathematics]

i need to rant again (sorry in advance).

I feel very sad right now.

As I concretized what aspects I suffer under the most: it is primarily isolation and having nothing to do all day.

so i searched for volunteering opportunities.

(i want to volunteer) but seeing the offers for volunteering work almost being entirely a social volunteering activity made me very sad and frustrated.

and although i find that things like soup kitchen for homeless people are important and i value them - i do not know how i could integrate myself in there to do any activity where i would not just be entirely overchallenged by all social interactions stuffs. while also being bored of the tasks one could do here.

I searched further for any regular or any activities for autistic people or people with huge social inabilities- and it makes me so sad and angry... finding just the few scarce options i have also heard of already- occupational therapy, "work" therapy (which is very similar to occupational therapy), and then thats it for regular options.

for less regular options there is also very few options...

for volunteering work one also needs to be merely self-organized. and damn...

i just wish i had a job that i at least enjoy half of the tasks to do - and anything to do.

i hate being in this shitass huge city and having the same options as someone living in a damn tiny village... or forest.

//sarcastic: in a forest there might even be more options for me to engage with my environment than in this shitasshuge city of additional sensory torture...

it makes me so sad.

it feels futile.

like literally. the isolation and having nothing non-pointless to do make overcoming the shitty trauma far more difficult.

What can I do?

Talking with myself is an option I find even more depressing than just talking to no one for days.

its not even that i slightly like the isolation.

i hate it. i dread it! i prefer to live with some people in a shared flat. but this isolation chamber. i cannot take it.

but i mean: i am extremely privileged for living on my own, renting an apartment solely for myself. But I do not want to live for myself. It is isolating, debilitaing so. In a shared apartment there at least happens social interaction randomly, and I could even do the tasks I do already and would help someone with what i do. But this way its depressingly futile and lifeless.

I feel useless and like a damn burden.

This apartment I am living in is like the final storage facility of radiocative substances: its far away from any engagement places, on a mountain on the outermost edge of the city, with the only function to store and isolate the trash for many years and decades so it will finally fall apart one day, and does not annoy anyone with its existence.

damn. i feel so sad. i have very huge trouble sleeping since a week. i am tired. i am exhausted. breathing shallowly. cant focus. just mind fog. just shittt

am tired but cant sleep

can only complain.

i hate this futile attempt to "pull myself up by my own bootstraps". it is not only seriously energy-consuming, but also futile. But what else can i do?

fuck it. i am tired. yet cant sleep.

and dat thought circle now repeats itself 1000 times until i either get so angry or stressed that whatever might happen - or i might be able to navigate my fucked up mind into a different semi-disturbing thought topic.

i am tired.

yes, you are tired? tell me more about it. does it feel as if u got bread as brain?

yeah. totally. the bread is crumbling.

and what do we want to do with the crumbs now?

perhaps collect da crumbs, put it in a bowl (but not a holebowl) and then insert a liquid and stomp it very hard multiple times until it becomes dough again.

yay. we bake a tiny new brain bread now, dont we?

yeas, we do.

at least in our imagination it is that easy to get into a slightly better mental space - for few minutes - but that is a topic for another chapter.

no seriously. i have to come up with this kind of nonsense all the time because if i confuse myself with this kind of silly nonsense the shitty thoughts, feeling and memories get swirled around - and then they are less painful.

swirling the awful brain crumbs makes them feel as if they are disappeared - but only for the moment when i swirl the shit around. if the brain crumbsmsettle again it all starts to be unbearable again.

seriously this is exhausting. and why? damn why do i have to do this?

arent there more helpful/functional ways to deal with it?

if someone of you humans reading this knows a realitistic other functional compensation method, please feel free to tell me.

I am "am Ende meines Lateins" as that German saying goes. I have approached the end of having clues/ideas. Perhaps I have to accept I approached the invitable: the last station to Burnout and Boreout all at once!

the ring of running in a hamster wheel closes itself as the hamster approached light speed and time began to stand still.

as time stood still, all that was existent was the dead hamsters haunting memories,

still haunting him after he already succesfully died in one of his recursive nightmares.

but uhh. recursive nightmares are of a special kind... i assure you... but dont be sure about anything, thats for sure...

.. and that, my dear human beans, that is true irony.

legendary.

at least i can laugh about it - somehow. anyhow. whatever.

[the-haunted-office]

( @grandgrief - Continued from here!)

Thursday had heard the story from Doomsday too, of course - well, her version, a version that included lots of pacing back and forth and waving her arms around, expletives, and generally just a lot of venting about how unappreciated she feels, not just by Nero and his crew but by everybody. She gets it. She and Doom are the same person, after all, and so she gives Doom the space she needs to verbally vent all her frustrations, even if she's only hearing one, possibly warped side of it as, knowing herself, she has a tendency to view things through a lens skewed by depression, anxiety, and years of being treated like a doormat.

Thursday sees it as her job to act as a liaison of sorts in this instance. More than that, she also sees Nero and his crew as friends, and she'd like to keep them as such and cheer them up on top of that.

"Ehhh, you know, wrong on both sides. Sometimes she needs a bit of a reality check. Not everybody is looking for an ice cream machine that insults you, right? I mean, I think it's hilarious and I would have laughed my ass off, but also, read the room, ahahaha. Not that I've never made that mistake, but yeah. Here," Thursday says, taking her notebook out of her hoodie pocket, opening it, and handing him a sticker she designed of a thumb's up with the words DON'T PANIC in large, friendly letters printed under it to place over the one Doomsday put on the machine. "What do you think of that? Classic! From The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. My bread and butter, and really, it should be yours too, Nero."

"Also," she says, closing her notebook and putting it away, "I think you should give her the moldy cheese. That'd be so funny. I mean, she's dead, it's not gonna hurt her, and she won't even notice. And why are you guys eating almost expired cheese?! Do you need some fresh food up in here? No wonder everybody's sulky. Why didn't you just say so? Can we like, have a Taco Tuesday? Or is that against regulations? Like, a good Taco Tuesday. How about that? I'll bring in all the taco stuff and we'll have a big ol' taco party in here every Tuesday! It'll be fun."

[whatever-fanfics]

Hang on Me

~~~

Ikemen Vampire

Dazai Osamu x Reader, pt 1

A/n: First part of the Stalker series, also I am NOT fluent in Japanese at all, I apologize as there are most likely many mistakes in translations of informal/formal speech and so on, I mostly used google translate and other websites. But expect there to be mistakes. Additionally, I don't know if Dazai has a pen name in the events of the his route so I just didn't give him one directly. I also don't remember the editor having a name so I also gave him a random name.

Tw: Contains depression, stalking, destruction of property, threats

Translations:

Dazai: Ohayo/ Morning (informal)

Sebastian: Ohayo Gozaimas/ Good morning (formal)

Y/n: Ohayo/ morning (informal)

Sebastian: Matte/wait (informal)

Dazai: gochisosama, itte kimasu/ thank you for the meal, I'm leaving (informal, formal)

Y/n: Deeto/ Date (informal(?))

Dazai: nande/ why (informal)

Y/n: iya-dōiu imidesu ka? Shuji-kun?/ no,what do you mean? Shuji-kun (formal)

Dazai: Dou shita no?/ What's wrong? (informal(?))

Y/n: kiete shimatta, kako ni wa inai!/ It's gone, it's not here! (informal(?))

Theo: dwass/ fool

Theo: Verdomme/ Dammit

~~~

Dazai's blissful slumber crudely comes to an end as the suns glare unwelcomingly attaches itself to his face. As his face scrunches in brief discomfort, he opens his eyes and his gaze travels downwards to what, or rather who, should be occupying the space next to him, his sleeping lover. His discomfort from the sun intensifies as he opens his eyes to see that you were not in his arms. A shiver racks his body, he'd left the window open and the winter months have not been kind.

As he shielded his face a groan escapes his lips when he decides to haul himself up and look around the room for you, a pout rests on his face and he sighs as you are nowhere in his peripheral vision. Dazai knows there are only two options as to where his beloved is.

Quickly changing from his yukata into his daily kimono, he sets out to your room.

You weren't in your room Dazai crossed off one place from his mental list and quickly made his way to the kitchen in search of you.

~~~

Upon nearing the kitchen he heard Sebastians most recent scolding. "...honestly" the butler sighed more in concern than in irritation or anger.

"Ohayo~" a light smile graced Dazai's face as he made himself known. Upon taking in your latest creations "oh my, Toshiko-san, you've truly outdone yourself a true pâtissier" Dazai says as he picks up a piece of cut bread, 'mm banana' he thinks as he chews it. "Ohayo gozaimas Dazai-sensei" Sebastian greets, "Ohayo" you say rising from your apologetic bow. Dazai hides his frown as he takes in your appearance, disheveled sleeping attire, hair partially rusted, most likely from the little sleep you were able to get, eye bags darker than they were before, you could almost confuse them for a make up look.

"I'll go out and get more now" at your words Dazai's attention was gathered, "matte, at least wait until after breakfast" Sebastian pleaded. You nodded and started gathering the many pans and platters filled with pastries and cookies, etc.

As both men watched you exit the kitchen "Dazai-sensei..." Sebastian knew he didn't need to make his concerns vocal, but he knew you weren't well. He could see it, they all could. "Mm" Dazai agreed, his smile vanishing, while he was concerned for his lover he trusted that you would come to him, if and when you needed him, which you do. He was aware of your 'coping mechanisms' as you put it, it was healthy and yummy, in his opinion, but he knew that wasn't enough sometimes. After all you were approaching the one year mark of your saying good-bye to your home...and your time.

Putting the last of breakfast on the table as everyone, almost everyone, sorry Napoleon, trickled in. You took a seat, still in your pajamas, as opposed to everyone who were dressed for the day. "Hondje" you looked up from your plate. "Yes?" you answered, "do you need more training or did you actually forget your brains this morning" Theo confidently asked, he was worried. "Huh? Oh, no, I just didn't want my clothes to smell like food for when I go out later so.." you trailed off. You wanted to get an early start on the groceries, to make it up for Sebastian for using most of the baking ingredients for tomorrows breakfast. "Is anybody else finished?" you ask, multiple heads turn to look at you.

"You're done already?" Isaac asks, making a rare appearance at breakfast. "Ah, I'm not really that hungry, kept snacking while I was baking" you say as a matter of factly, you smile at the rest of them and take your plate to the kitchen.

Dazai decided, this was his time to act, "gochisosama, itte kimasu" he said as he followed you in pursuit.

"Shuji-san" you called him as you turned on the tap "you're not going to eat more?" you wonder if the food was to his liking, he usually likes the food, seeing as it is usually a traditional Japanese breakfast, but you made it like you always do, so maybe you did something wrong? "Mm-mm" he dissuaded your worries, "I've got and early meeting with my editor, after that I am mostly free. I thought we could get the groceries together and after..." he trailed off.

"Deeto!" a brilliant smile lit up your face in turn let up his and he nodded in affirmation.

Finishing up the dishes you animatedly told your boyfriend to wait for you by the stairs as you briskly walked to the doorway, then hiking it up to your room to change and fix your-everything.

~~~

You held a bit of breath as Shuji helped you down from the carriage. Still not used to balancing your weight on such a small step.

"This meeting shouldn't take long" he said hoping it would ease you, you nodded not worried at all. Happy wherever and whenever you were with him.

"You made it" Dazai's editor stood from the booth, as he greeted you both. After shaking Dazai's hand he took yours, you gave a slight bow more out of habit than anything else. He clumsily returned your slight bow as best he could, not wanting to be rude. He only stopped when you gave him one of your kind smiles.

Ever the gentleman Shuji let you sit first while he and his editor, Auguste, got their greetings out of the way and settled down into the booth to discuss Dazai's newest short story. As you waited for their meeting to end you pulled out your latest re-read, 'The Call of Cthulhu', H.P. Lovecraft. Though you knew to be careful, this book wouldn't be written for almost, another twenty years. You had carefully folded a cover over the book, a simple Lovecraft written on top.

As the meeting came to an end barely an hour later, Auguste took notice of your book. "Love..Cra..ft" he announced, gathering yours and your lovers attention. "English?" he questioned, you nodded, "I have to say I've never heard of them" he looked up at you, eyes shining with childlike curiosity.

"Ahh, he is..rather unknown..mostly known in Japan. Not very popular here" you chose your words very carefully. "Really, well you should introduce him to me then!" You and Shuji gently laughed as Auguste playfully boasted about his profession and skill. As you three stood up to say your goodbye's and leave.

"Monsieur, would you like me to pack this to go?" the waitress asked the elderly man sitting at the counter. His eyes which were so glazed over only moments before they sprang to life once more, "No!" he hollered moving fast enough that his hand had gotten caught on the edge of the cake, sending it toppling over, plate and all. Making a rather loud crash, as the plate broke in three and the cake landed smack onto the floor. Gathering the attention of many in the cafe, including your boyfriend, yourself, and the seniors son.

"Papa!" Auguste turned to the scene. "Please accept my apologies. I'll pay for the plate of course. Papa are you alright" you and Shuji watched in silence, while most of the cafe patrons went back to their own business. "If it's not too much trouble, can we have two cakes to go?" He asked the waitress as went to get something to clean up the mess only bending down to help once he received an affirmative nod. Your heart cracked as you saw his expression, grief and sadness written all over him "She was going to take it away, how will she know we're waiting for her if there's no cake. She loves cake" he accentuated his point with his hands and body. You could tell by what seemed like gibberish to most were the signs of something much more painful.

"I know papa..." you didn't need to see his face to know Auguste had a painful expression on him. One that you and Shuji wore often. "Please excuse me" he briefly excused himself to Dazai before fussing over his father and trying to get him to calm down.

As Auguste's father was calming down he turned his head to the side, where the glass window was and locked eyes with you. "Anne!" you could have sworn you saw tears in his eyes "Anne!" the elderly man eagerly made his way towards you, a look of fatherly love evident on his face, only now did you take in the rest of his appearance. Well dressed for a person of upper middle class, though the type of coat he's wearing was generally something you'd seen on a younger sort of man. "Anne where have you been, your brother and I have been waiting for hours! You didn't go off with that Beaudet boy did you? He's not as kind as he seems." You watched him go off in a fatherly rant, that seemed familiar in a way. You didn't pull away as he took hold of your hands and engulfed them in his own gaunt and thin hands, holding strong and firm the opposite of how he was perceived. "Would you like to sit down" you offered a kind smile gracing your features.

Dazai was unsure of what to do.

The older man did as you asked but kept his hands on your own regardless.

"Papa..." his son looked at his father a deep sense of sadness in his eyes.

"Why don't you go on to your next appointment and I'll see you later" you ended in a question so as to give him control, just like a daughter would with her father. "Ohh.." he trailed off seriously thinking it over "al-alright we'll see you at home, come Auguste say goodbye to your sister. I'll wait for you by the entrance" he said not looking back once.

You all watched him walk off in the direction of the entrance of the cafe, muttering to himself, but more calm than he was moments ago.

"Are you alright" your beloved asked you, worried of you'd been shaken up at all. "I'm alright" you eased his worries.

"I'm sorry about him, it's..it's gotten worse these days..he was confused because your stature and features well, they remind him of my sister, Anne. She has long since passed" you gave your condolences and shook your head in understanding. "I went through something similar like this with my grandfather, in my experience it's best not to try a break them out of it." you recounted. "Hm, yes that's what the doctor has been telling us as well" Auguste explained. You both saw how he didn't want to go much farther into it, so you decided to say your goodbye's and quickly took your leave.

~~~

"I think we can make it to the supermarket on foot from here" you leaned outwards on the curb than on the sidewalk, looking out as far as you could while trying to balance your lower half on the curb and your upper half trying to catch sight of the grocery store. Shuji kept his arm around your waist, firmly, as you leaned out further, "be careful" he reminded you, you mindlessly agreed and set yourself straight again. "Okay, I think I see it from here" you say, matter of factly, when you didn't get an answer you turned to your lover to find him staring off into space. "Shuji-san" he looked down to you as he felt your hand softly caress his cheek, your expression tightening with worry. His hand easily encompassed your own as he met your worry with his own gentle smile.

As you two started to walk he asked "Y/n, is it common there? That people are aware, and know what to do with elders who aren't well?" As you walked together through the semi crowded sidewalk Dazai took hold of your bag so you could hold hands, you were always more comfortable with affection than he was. Though, you trusted he would tell you if he was uncomfortable with anything. "Hm, of you mean back at the cafe right?" you asked, to which he nodded. "Not really, in my case it was because I was exposed to it so much. But unless you work in that sort of field or you or someone you know are affected by it, not many people know how to act." you finish. "it was like that before too" you were surprised by his answer, not by what he said, but because Dazai doesn't talk about his past very often.

"I think I heard about a Love-uh Craft-eh, when I was young" Dazai admits changing the topic quickly, "really?" while you knew they operated around the same time period you didn't think he would be big or even available in Japan at that time. "Ah" he confirmed, "do you like him" you hear a tinge of jealousy in his voice, swallowing your humor you answer. "As a writer, sort of...yeah" you shake your hand to and fro to accentuate. "As a person absolutely not" the matter of fact tone in your voice makes Dazai press further, "oh? Why is that" he turns to you. "Well" you start "it doesn't help that he was a raging white supremacist" you finish, "hm?" oh, 'that term might not be in use yet', "he was really really racist." you explain, "ahh" you saw him nod in understanding.

"After we're done maybe we should visit the children in the park?" he proposed, changing the subject. "Mmm, maybe, though they might not be there, it's getting colder now" you answer, winter was getting closer and it was getting dark earlier as well. You thank him as he holds door open for you, "do you wanna split up or do you want to get everything together" as if you even have to ask, he smiles at you. You converse as you gather the essentials flour, sugar, yeast, etc.

You were almost done with the list, you and Dazai split up to get the last two ingredients. Unfortunately for you, the sugar you needed was on the top shelf. Your face turns red from frustration as you try and fail to grasp the item. An angry pout settles on your face, as you drop your feet evenly back to the ground. Taking a deep breath, you reach up again, this time your fingers grasp it wobbling it back instead of forward. you squint in concentration.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, pushing your weight back down. They go for the item, reaching farther than you could. Your brief surprise dissipates as you realize who it is from their side profile. "François!" your surprised voice reaches his ears. The young man s boyish smile accentuated by the light outside. "Thank you" he sheepishly waved you off, his smile softening for you. "How was your day" he asks "oh, it was good, my boyfriend's taking me out after this" You replied unable to hide your blush at the mention of your lover, though you were surprised by his question, even so you shouldn't have been considering he almost always asks how you are.

"Hello" the way Dazai lowers himself to your ear to whisper softly to you has you scarlet red. "Dazai!" Neither man miss the way your face brightens when you notice his presence. "François" you motion to the young boy, "Dazai" you motion to your love. "Dazai Osamu" Shuji said cooly, offering his hand, he saw the way François looks at you.

Shuji looks at you the same way.

"Ah, François Beauvais" he hastily shook Dazai's hand as he introduced himself, Dazai's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he felt François' grip squeeze. A sensation he returned, his Cheshire smile widening by a fraction.

Sensing the tension you put your hand on Dazai's arm and asked "did you find it alright", as the sound of your gentle voice serenaded his ears, Dazai's tense expression lifted as his eyes met your own.

'You are the Euridyce to my Orpheus', Dazai thought as stars were held in his eyes.

An uncomfortable cough breaks you two out of your reverie. "Please pardon us" your sheepish answer only makes Dazai inwardly swoon more, you're so cute when you're flustered. "Did you find it alright" you repeat, to which he replies "yes, are you ready" as you nodded Dazai got ready to depart.

"Are you ready to pay, I can go with you to the register that way you won't have to wait in the line" the young man rushed out. Jealousy dripped down into Shuji's stomach, a silent breath made its way out his mouth. "Are you sure that's alright, won't you get in trouble?" Your worried expression matched the tightness in your chest. Dazai nodded in agreement wondering the same thing.

"Don't worry just don't tell anyone" François playfully winked at you as he held his finger to his lips. Shuji doesn't like him, "that's alright, I don't want you to get in trouble" you decidedly announced, "hm?" the young man voiced his confusion, not expecting your rejection. "Thank you for your assistance" Shuji abruptly ended the interaction. As he took the woven basket, provided by the store, in one arm placing the item he'd gotten in alongside the rest and took hold of your arm in a gentle yet firm grip, making his way toward the cashier.

You fell into step with him as you both heard the owner call out "François! Get moving!".

As you two made your way to the front to pay, your eyes met François' once more, a quick flat smile made it's way onto your face as you waited for him to finish bagging your items and for Dazai to finish paying the cashier. "Thank you" you bowed slightly, he waved you off, "it's nothing, this is my job".

You and Shuji walked out of the store hand in hand as he held the bag in his other hand.

"You wanted to go to the-" "Ggrrrrrr..." your blush more apparent then Isaac's bright hair. "Hey!" a chuckle Shuji failed to hide made it so much worse, you looked like you were ready to cry. "Ahh, I can't help it when my beautiful dove makes such noises" he confessed as his laugh died down. "You keep saying stuff like that people are going to get the wrong idea" you mutter an out evident on your lips as you look away in embarrassment.

~~~

You leaned back as a waiter brought your sweets and tea over, you both thanked him quietly. You don't think you'll be able to see the children today, looking at Shuji noticed the forlorn look upon your lovers face, "what's wrong" your worried tone reached him. "Y/n, are you unhappy" his grave tone and matching expression put you off guard "eh?" small, curt and full of confusion "iya-dōiu imidesu ka? Shuji-kun?" being completely unprepared by such a confrontation, it felt like your defenses and walls were being pulled apart. Like you were put bare for the world to see, you wanted it to stop, but you knew you couldn't do that. Not to him. "Is this about from this morning" you continued switching back to French, gathering enough of your bearings to switch languages.

"Mm" he confirmed, "are you unhappy here...with me" he added the last part quietly casting his head down in fear, maybe it's not that you don't want to be with him maybe it's that you don't want to be awa-"No" he looked up your eyes full of resolve. Sure and as unwavering as the glaring sun. "No I am not unhappy here nor am I unhappy with you" you repeat, "if this is about this morning, I just..get tired sometimes and...that's just my way of dealing with things, I have other ways but not many that I feel secure doing..here anyways" your confident look washed and faded away as you answered him.

"If that's what it is then why don't you come to me about this, that's what we're here for" you know what he means. Not the others not Le Comte, not Napoleon, not Leonardo, him, just him. "There are so many reasons as to why I don't talk about this to people, but one of the most common reasons is because..." he waited for you to continue as a lump formed in his throat from anticipation? Anxiety? Fear? Still he kept quiet as you found the words.

"I tried that before-before I met you that is..." your voice trailed off, your hands fiddled with one another your gaze downcast in anxiousness. "'Stop being lazy', 'we all have problems', 'you have too much time on your hand you just need to exercise'... I've told people close to me about this before and they always told me stuff like that, eventually...I just..stopped" your confessions tore a crack in his heart. How can someone, anyone, say this to you. You who are so kind, so amazing, so beautifully you.

"When I decided to tell them that what they said wasn't helpful..." he waited in silence as you tried to find the proper words "they would just stop...in-in a way...when I got more comfortable telling them that I wasn't..okay. They would always get this despondent, sorrowful look their face and that felt worse then being pitied...because I knew that they didn't know how to help me. And I don't want to make anyone feel like that, least not-especially not you. You are my happiness, how could I do that to you"

"I'm sorry" you bowed, you didn't mean to hurt him. "I'm-I'm not angry, I'm worried, I don''t want to lose you. I want to be someone you rely on" you look up at him your gaze filled with pure adoration, love and affection swirl in your heart. Your eyes water as you nod.

As you begin to eat he tells you about some of his ideas for his next stories. Never once missing how your face softens every time as you converse back and forth.

~~~

An irritated breath left your lips as you hastily emptied your bag and its contents onto the desk.

You two had gotten back barely an hour ago, you were supposed to meet him in la thermae, but when you began to empty your bag from the day you noticed, it wasn't there. The knot in your chest getting bigger and bigger.

"Dou shita no?" you were so worried about your missing item, Shuji's voice and the light from the hall surprised you. "The book, the one I had with me today, kiete shimatta, kako ni wa inai!" you cried in fear and self blame. He put a comforting hand on your shoulder, a sigh of defeat exits from you "perhaps Auguste has it? If not we could go looking for it tomorrow" he began listing off the numerous places it could be. "I can't tomorrow I promised to help Theo with prepare for the upcoming gallery" you whined in exhaustion and defeat. "Still, if it turns up it'll most likely end up at Theo-kuns office" he reminded you.

You'd forgotten, you asked Theo if it was alright to write his office address on the inside of your books incase any of them ever got lost. Since the mansion can be hard to find with it being deep in the woods. He'd said it was alright as long as you help him out from time to time.

It was getting late, while you were anxious about your missing book you were also worried about bothering everyone who were all most likely starting to get ready for bed.

~~~

While you found it hard to fall asleep completely beside yourself with worry. What if someone finds it and it and you end up ruining the future? But with Shuji soothingly rubbing circles on your back as you clung to his yukata, your mind going in circles from anxiousness.

While the thought of baking again did seem appealing you knew that Sebastian wouldn't have enough of the ingredients he would need for tomorrow's breakfast. Also you have not had a full nights sleep in almost 48 hours.

The lack of sleep did outweigh your anxiety eventually, you and Shuji fell asleep intertwined with one another.

~~~

"Ready" Theo turned to you checking his pocket watch, one of his treasured gifts from Vincent. Yawning you nodded in response while covering your mouth, he looked at you eyebrow raised in slight concern, to you it came off as offense "sorry, I didn't get much sleep yesterday" you answer sheepishly. "I don't need to know your night activities hondje" he teases turning away so you won't see his face. "What? No! I lost one of my books so I was worried about how to find it, I have the address of your office written down but still" he turned back around at the sound of your worried voice reached his ears. "Tucking your tail between your legs isn't going to solve anything, it should turn up sooner or later, I'll have some of the others keep an eye out at the office incase someone comes in" he told you as he tussled your hair.

"Thank you" your worry mostly easing over at the moment, you bow slightly in thanks. "Tch, you don't need to thank me, let's go hondje" he tells you as he starts walking back not looking back once. You wordlessly follow him jogging up to match his pace.

Dazai smiles at you as he watches silently behind the stairs railings.

~~~

A little while after you'd reached the gallery Theo noticed that some of the papers he'd needed weren't with him. You offered to help him look for them.

"Did you find them?" He hollered from across the room. It was mostly just you and a couple of Theo's employees. Most of which were moving the paintings around. The others were helping to look of rhte papers, "No" you called out definitively. "Is it possible you left it back at the office?" You turned back to look at him walking over, "If not maybe they're still at the mansion" your voice quieter not only so no one else would hear you but also because Theo was right in front of you.

He nodded in agreement "Verdomme!!!" He exclaimed, you quickly leaned back and away from him as he quickly breathed out through his nostrils to calm himself down. "Sorry, sorry" he apologized and took a few more calming breaths, "lets's-let's look again" he decided pinching around his eyes in frustration.

"We've searched three times" you reasoned. "Look, if it's not here then it's at the office. If it's not at the office then it's in your room. Documents don't just disappear like that, they have to be somewhere" you really hope you're right.

"You're right, let's head to the office and search there if not then I'll head back and you and one of the others can hold down until I get back." Theo decided, you nodded in agreement and you two swiftly made your way to his office in town. Luckily it wasn't far from the gallery.

~~~

"You start by the door, I'll start by the-" "Theodore!" you both turned to the voice that cut Theo off, it was the owner of the gallery. "Go on ahead I'll meet you inside" he told you while handing you the key, which you accepted.

You locked eyes with the other person who was staying at the office that day, the acknowledged you and went back to their cigarette.

Opening the door your gaze was immediately drawn to the papers on the floor.

"Wha...!!!" your train of thought was cut off by the sight in front of you.

~~~

"Theodore, I'm not so sure about-" "AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!"

The two turned immediately at the high pitched shriek of terror. And before the owner could ask, he saw Theo darting towards the door and up the stairs.

It was you

"HONDJE!!! WHAT-!!!" he froze at the sight in front of him. Upon entering the room a foul familiar smell of iron intruded his nostrils. Covering his nose and mouth with his arm, he reached down to help you off the floor where you fell. "We-we need to...we need to call the constable"

~~~

Tag list: @loverofmanyrandomthings

A/n: I am so sorry this took so long. 😓

Please interact and tell me what you think, I would like to know what I should improve on.

[jacobnordby]

'Spiritual’ Red Flags to watch out for (AND THEIR MEANINGS):

1: To 'hold space' for someone = To sit and stare at someone with emotional issues for an uncomfortable amount of time, then pat yourself on the back for basically doing nothing while your homie has a breakdown.

2: I'm in transition = I'm unemployed and totally fucking lost, so I have created an identity out of being an opportunist. Maybe you have some trim work for me or food? Or a trade? I do crystal readings!

3: I'm processing a lot of downloads from the Universe = I smoked too much DMT and can’t afford therapy. By pretending that my fragile brain is a sacred record keeper, I receive validation for speaking gibberish.

4: I'm a lightworker/empath = I am depressed and unstable and take zero responsibility for my own self-destructive tendencies, and need to focus on condescending your dark shit to avoid my own. (PS: I'll diagnose you as a narcissist)

5: I am a Reiki Master= I crave human contact, And this makes me feel less insecure than Tinder. I can cross personal physical boundaries with ease if I so choose, depending on what my client looks like, or I can think about random things while getting paid handsomely to hold my hands awkwardly over someone’s body.

6: You have an amazing Aura = I would love to bang you.

7: I am writing a travel blog = I don't want to go home, I no longer fit in: I never have. I don't know where I will end up, but I’d like to get paid to figure it out.

8: I'm not looking for a relationship/ only deep soul connections = I have commitment issues and fear of intimacy so I collect partners with compatible insecurities. I understand you will head off to Thailand soon anyways. “Bread-crumbing my love keeps me safe” is my mantra, while I dip my dick like a candlestick in every Shanti ratchet priestess in town.

9: 'Inner Goddess Within' workshops = An understanding of daddy Issues and a way to overdevelop the masculine side to protect the little girl within. Helping participants to surrender to the bias that all men are shit ( all of this for a nominal fee). The level 2 masterclass will teach you how to galactivate your man’s scrotum chakra enough to make him forget that you pay for bullshit workshops with his harvest money.

10: A guru = Someone who has overstepped the threshold of self-development into supreme egotism and found a niche market. Carries a flute and has a name you can't pronounce (though his driver's license says Steve) and chants words he doesn’t understand. But interesting tattoos...right?

11. A shaman = see above.

12: Worshipping the Beloved = Classic scenario where a cluster B personality type convinces you at a festival that you are their twin flame, lost for centuries in the ether. If you have never been loved by your primary caregivers, this is paradise on earth as your fear of abandonment gets spanked with a mala on the magical, mystery tour of self-deception.

13: In the flow = I never commit to anything, especially plans to do anything with anyone, so that I can completely flake out and not take any responsibility for it; ie I didn’t pay my phone bill this month.

14: Co-creating a retreat/gathering = my borderline personality friends and I have exhausted all other means of making an honest income, and have decided instead to use our social media clout (aka naked buttcheeks) to radically overcharge a too-large group of saps for 2-14 days of mediocre vegan food, awkward group encounters, and real-world-style sexual politics.

15; Substance Free Event = Powder drugs are fine but if you bring alcohol, we’ll judge the shit out of you. Tobacco’s cool if you snort it and call it "ceremony" or roll your own.

16: Speaking My Truth = I reserve the right to be an asshole in this conversation and you must honour it, regardless of how deep my delusion may be. I’ll probably use this phrase every time I don’t want to be called out for my phone bullshit, because it’s all perspective man...

(Author Unknown)

[rpclues]

B. Dylan Hollis Out of Context sentence starters

[   quotes taken from various tiktoks made by Dylan | cw: suggestive   ]

“   This is the 70′s we do what we want.   “

“   If you don’t have the buttermilk you can always... buy it.   “

“   They need to have a flat bottom, like me.   “

“    I do everything by hand. I’m very lonely.   “

“   This is for people who hate baking & I don’t like these people.   “

“   Yeah, it’s all right, but it’s all wrong.   “

“   It’s like watching a car crash.   “

“   Whatever you think ‘elevates’ means, YOU’RE WRONG.   “

“   This is a depression meatloaf - which is what I call myself when I’m wrapped in blankets at 2am watching netflix, covered in pop tart crumbs.   “

“    Preferably like my dating life: stale.   “

“   The meat remains unseen. Perhaps it’s waiting for marriage.   “

“   I don’t know if anyone told you, but beef is a cow. You know, the mooing??   “

“   It tastes like it’s saving me money.   “

“   Call me crazy, but I believe a cookie should be sweet.   “

“   Just eat cheese.   “

“   This thing’s heavier than my self-doubt.   “

“   Now we strain it to remove any part of reason.   “

“   I reckon this is a heavy pan. Heavy with a burden of whatever crime I’m going to commit.   “

“   What is a fleeter? I don’t know, nobody knows!   “

“   Just imagine cooking this & telling yourself everything is fine.   “

“   YOU USELESS!   “

“   Nah fam, there ain’t no typo, we want you to yell at your milk.  “

“   This bread going to space.   “

“   Walnuts aren’t my favorite but I’ve been known to never turn down a nut.   “

“   That was character building - good old liquid cardboard.   “

“   Any dentists out there?   “

“   People seem to think it’s from the 50s,. but it’s not. It’s more so typical of the 70s, 80s or a psychopath.   “

“   At least the recipe is self aware.   “

“   Good morning, that’s a lie.   “

“   You know, cabbage is one of those things... I have nothing else to add.   “

“   You could just use canned pineapple... if you’re a communist.   “

“   It doesn’t say you how to eat it, so I don’t know if I should grab knife & fork or I need to tie my hair back.   “

“   I picked it because it has the most nuts I’ve seen & I’ve seen my fair share.   “

“   Filberts are hazelnuts & they are my second favourite nut. My first doesn’t come from a plant.   “

“   This is not going to rise. Which is always embarrassing.   “

“   Never tried that before. Sounds painful.   “

“   You know, fruits & nuts do go hand in hand. I would know, I’m both.   “

[that-stone-butch]

Ok the bread, his name is Bernd, his scientific naming is Homo Brotus Depressivus, his favourite food is flour soup, he spends his free time memorising the patterns of ingrain wallpapers. He works for the children's TV channel, mostly during its off hours to deter children from staying up and watching TV. He does this by being trapped in "hell [but] white". Originally starting in 2000, he had a child friendly home shopping parody tv show where he starred with a red sheep (Chili) who's job was stunt woman that loved doing illegal things and a shy sentient bush (Briegel) who built/crafted things. He had few other shows, but I don't care about those and in 2003, during a break while shooting an episode, he got stuck in hell. Where he has been forced to play along on everything from casting shows to basically lofi lounge simulations ever since. He can't leave because everytime he walks off screen he just comes back on from the other side. But maybe, if you turn the TV off... and nobody watches anymore... then he'll get to leave, so do it, turn off the tv, now. As for his constant state of depression; one reason he gave on tv was an unrequited crush on a baguette. Another was that he just hates his job. He has two catchphrases, one is "Mist" (Crap), the other is "Gnampf" which doesn't mean anything but sure expresses the feeling of hating your dumb stupid job. When he got kidnapped it was about protesting the eviction of a self organised shoa education and memorial site, after a private investor bought the land to turn the abandoned factory building into buisiness spaces and housing. I'm not gonna go into detail about that factory unasked here, if anyone wants to know what it was for you can look up "Topf & Söhne"

thanks! i also love baguettes. what a cool dude. i hope he makes it out of hell sometime soon

[yabagofmilfs]

❄️😈🏛️

Whoa why are these so big.

❄️ What is your most and least favorite thing about winter?

my thoughts about winter are very skewed in both directions because I’ve lived the majority of my life in California. I spent three years living in the Midwest which were the three worst years of my life bar none, and lot of that had to do with how depressing the winters are.

But like, as far as my standard winter—most favorite is when it finally finally finally stops being summer and the air gets really crisp and it’s perfect cozy weather. (For reference here that means like 50-60°F.) Also bonus I can stop running the air which costs me multiple hundreds of dollars per month in the summer.

Least favorite thing is maybe getting out of bed in the morning? Very hard to leave my warm cave, where I usually have 1-2 cats acting as little space heaters under the blankets. Having wet hair in winter is a strong second.

😈 What is your weirdest head canon about an NHL player?

Sid’s breath always smells very strongly of peanut butter during games. No wonder he wins all his face offs.

🏛️ Here, have a soap box. What is one thing you feel really strongly about that you think everyone should know?

You only have like a 20 second window MAX to put butter on your toast after it comes out of the toaster, otherwise you are just spreading a layer of solid fat over stale bread!!! It will never melt properly!!!Restaurants STOP sending out cold toast with cold butter we should not be forced to live like this!! Media needs to stop with the toast languishing in the toaster propaganda it’s not right!!! Open your eyes!!!

[sacrificethemtothesquid]

Cut for random holiday-related blather.

My family is a cult, and I mean that is the nicest way possible. We’re like a cultural amoeba or some medieval royal house. My sister and I didn’t join our spouses’ families, the spouses joined ours. 

Amid a slew of smaller holidays, Christmas is the culmination of the entire year, the time when everyone returns to the mothership (ie my grandparents’ house) for a good meal and some well-wrapped presents. When you think of a stereotypical 1950s Coca-Cola-advertisement Christmas, that’s my family, frozen in time. It is an entirely secular event, although if someone is feeling a pang of religious guilt, they might say grace before dinner. That being said, there are two traditions that are completely sacrosanct, and cannot under any circumstances including death or natural disaster be skipped: Stockings, and [Grandpa Squid]’s Favorite. 

Upon marrying into the family, you are presented with The Stocking, a gorgeous item handmade by your future mother-in-law with your name embroidered on the top. (If you’re born into the family, you get yours at birth.) Names are drawn Secret-Santa fashion around Thanksgiving, and the contents are generally intended to be inexpensive and practical (post-it notes, pens, toothpaste, etc), useful (small toolkits, garden gloves) or edible (candy), but it absolutely must have a mandarin orange in the toe. All stockings must be under the tree by Christmas morning. You cannot cannot under any circumstance admit to filling a stocking, or be caught in the act of filling one; Santa fills the stockings. Santa has always filled the stockings.

The other tradition is [Grandpa Squid]’s Favorite, a custard-filled cardamon bread that is served on Christmas morning. (If it had another name, it was lost three generations back when Grandpa was little. It is, as the name implies, his favorite.) You start learning to make it as a small child so that when you are eventually released out into the world like a salmon fry heading for the deep ocean, in the tragic event you cannot make it home on December 25th, you are capable of properly marking the day on your own. You may make [Grandpa Squid]’s Favorite for other people, but you may not under any circumstances share the recipe.

This year, things felt particularly important. Dad was in the hospital for Christmas last year and things were disrupted to the point I don’t think he or Mom even got stockings. We all kept thinking he’d be released in a couple more days, just a couple more days, and we thought that right through January and February until he died. When we got together in July for Grandpa’s birthday, no one felt like decorating or doing more than making potato salad. It was depressing and sad and I swore that Christmas was not going to be the same.

Cut to last week. I’m not really a great baker, so I’ve been deconstructing the recipe for [Grandpa Squid]’s Favorite over the years so the vague instructions on my photocopy of Great-Grandma’s spidery handwriting make some scientific sense, and this year, I got hung up on butter. There’s a part where you repeatedly spread the butter and fold the dough, which doesn’t really make any sense. It doesn’t form layers like a croissant. It just seeps into the dough and makes it a bit slimy to work with. Maybe it had a purpose three generations ago, but it’s just one of the steps now, followed because That’s How It’s Done. 

So many of the things my family does are just because That’s How It’s Done and this year, I’ve busted my ass all month trying to make sure that everything that needs to Happen actually Happens. I did all the stockings this year because we didn’t get together at Thanksgiving. I spent all last week baking, cooking, and making [Grandpa Squid]’s Favorite because I was afraid if I didn’t, everything would completely collapse and we absolutely could not have anything collapse. 

Where am I going with this? I don’t know. Maybe I need a space to brag. Everything was a rousing success. The presents were beautiful, the food delicious - okay, the gingerbread was overbaked - and everyone was happy. Nothing fell apart. I worked hard and succeeded. I’m tired, but very very satisfied. 

I think maybe my point is that I’m at a place in my life where I want everything to be intentional. It has to be. I’m almost 36. Husbandthing is 40. We don’t have kids. My dad is gone and our elders are aging. If we want a tradition to continue, if we want to take something with us, it has to be a deliberate choice. One of my new year’s resolutions is to expand that to the rest of my life. I don’t think I’m having a third-life crisis (too old for quarter-life, too young for mid-life) but everything feels a little dramatic and stifling and I’m thinking some intentionality will make things more manageable. 

Maybe next year, I’ll skip the step with the butter.