#ITS LESS THREATENING THAN A BLENDER FOR SURE

[third-king-of-salmonids]

But can Inkfish go in the microwave?

I MEAN I'VE SEEN THEM WALK INTO OTHER SAFETY QUESTIONABLE KITCHEN APPLIANCES OF THIER OWN FREE WILL BEFORE I THINK ITS POSSIBLE

[hellyeahbakubby]

“i’m not going anywhere” | bakugou k.

♔ - Katsuki provides comfort for a anxious/depressed reader.

pairing - ua!bakugou x reader

tags - mentions/hints at suicidal thoughts, anxious reader, light angst but eventually fluff, wholesome katsuki

a/n - I wrote this for a friend who is going through some stuff rn but I don’t usually/prefer not to write things relating to mental health issues simply because lots of these issues are personal because of my friends and family and that I am not an expert or professional

masterlist ▬

WARNING: the following content has light mentions of suicidal thoughts, if this is something that triggers you please do not read it. ALSO if you are feeling this way or anything ike this, reach out to those around you or go online and find helplines. Someone will listen and people do care. You are worthy and strong and you deserve to be happy <3

Once again I was shut in my room, angry, bitter thoughts piling up in my mind, becoming harder and harder to block out. The louder they became the more my head ached and the worse the sick, heavy feeling in my stomach became. It was so noisy in my head, so busy with vile, ugly thoughts, thoughts I wished I could banish into the pits of hell. They whispered and hissed, calling up the need to vomit, as if hurling up my intestines would get rid of them. The worst part of their existence being that I was the one who’d conjured them. They were my thoughts. No invading force had put them there. All it took was a tiny wish, an ache for everything to go away and the seedling was planted.

Well there is a way to make it all go away. No more worrying, no more suffering. It was a pesky, persistent thought that had no business floating around in my head. A way out that I refused to even consider as an option. It was a stupid ‘what if’ conjured up by cruel curiosity to imagine a reality where I chose the unthinkable. No more fear of failing and no more concoction of self-deprecation that mixed up my insides like a blender. No more hugs, no more adventures, no more listening to Kaminari’s terrible jokes and no more toothy smiles from Kiri. It was a stupid choice with a price I’d never pay and yet it continued to dance around as though it were even worthy of my time.

My thumb repeated the same motion as I flicked through the images on my screen, I barely even saw them, far too preoccupied with the stress threatening to crack me in two. Pressure building, my mind wandered from last week’s test to the daunting task of joining an agency in the future. The number of ways I could fail miserably closing in and outnumbering the hope and confidence I tried desperately to protect and maintain. I was so ordinary, pitied and helpless, the only opportunities available provided by luck soon to run out. No doubt my weakness would soon win the fight for my future, overcoming what few strengths I had. I was barely good at anything, coming up short time and time again when compared to my high achieving peers. It was almost as if I were destined to fail, everything building up the moment of climax where I would surely stumble and fall.

boom boom boy x you still up?

The message appeared on my screen and I relaxed a little. My head felt a little less like a rock melon and the violent storm in my stomach lessened. I breathed in slowly, steadying my trembling body. 

you yeah what's up?

boom boom boy x cant sleep can I come over?

you sure

boom boom boy x cool, be right there

Everything seemed to mellow out, reduced to a faint echo with the promise of Katsuki. Although he'd never outright say it he was surprisingly well aware of when I was feeling less than satisfactory, his ability to provide reassurance unchallenged. Whether it was a soft squeeze of a hand in passing or the gift of my favourite snack left at my room's door, he was unwavering in his compassion, something I’d come to realise was, although rarely seen by the rest of the world, given whenever I needed it more than I could voice. 

He’d sat with me as I shook and cried, kept his arms around me as my lungs grew erratic, whispered to me when my eyes blurred and my throat became dry. He’d become a rock of sorts, something I could latch onto to stop myself from falling into the rapids. He was a certainty and security, providing comfort and rationality, helping me step out of my despair into fresh air.

Having given up on the pleasantry of knocking a while ago, I was unsurprised when my door opened and Katsuki stepped into the room. I looked up at him and gave him a small smile. The dim light from my bedside lamp enhancing his strong angles and his pale hair, he gave a small nod in return.

I moved myself to face him more as he sat down on my bed beside me, his additional weight making the mattress dip. Unrolling the blanket he’d brought with him, he swung it around my shoulders, moving closer so he was wrapped in its embrace as well. Snuggling into the velvety texture of the fabric I let out a contented sigh. Wriggling around until he was comfortable, the blanket covering the two of us, Katsuki pulled out his phone opening a simple mobile game that revolved around some sort of pattern. Crossing my legs tighter, I let my knee rest atop his. 

There was never any necessity to speak when he was around, a silent, unspoken understanding of the aid he provided with presence alone. Feeling the heaviness of him beside me and the way he’d breath in roughly through his nose eased my nerves and helped my focus drift somewhere more pleasant. Going back to my aimless scrolling I found it much easier to ignore the thoughts plaguing me moments ago.

After some time of simply occupying the same space, I felt his hand move to mine, curling around the fist and opening it so he could hold it with firm security, an act of tenderness. Gently tossing aside my phone, I lent sideways, falling against his shoulder, my cheek pressed firmly against him. His strong frame was comforting and it sent a notion of safety through me. 

“Hey,” he said, gruff tone uncharacteristically soft. I shut my eyes, content to just hold his hand and sit there. His distinct smell surrounding me and his solid warmth heating me slowly, I relaxed into him.

“Thanks, Katsu,” I mumbled. He ran his thumb over the back on my hand in response.

“Whatever,” he grumbled, making me smile, “I ain’t going anywhere though, alright?”

“I know,” I assured him. Getting a grunt in response, I felt him shift a little beside me before he placed a kiss to the side of my head. He squeezed my hand as he did so and a whirlwind of butterflies flitted up through me, a pleasant change from the feeling that had been there before. He’d assured me time and time again that no matter that I thought or which anxieties had me in their grasp, he’d always be there to support me, his secure arms always ready to wrap around me and his hand outstretched whenever I needed it. And now as he sat with me, comforting and soothing, he did everything in his power to show me how valued I was.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

[skarsgard-daydreams]

My Doorbell

Description: You love to push Axel's buttons just as much as he pushes yours.

Warnings: jealousy, rough sex, spanking, oral (male receiving), smut, 18+

Note: This story features a reader with tattoos. So, this was supposed to be a simple drabble about Axel getting a Hitachi Magic Wand, but these characters have minds of their own. This is part one of a two part story. Axel’s girl in this one is not the same as the soft girl in my previous story. We’ll call this one his grunge girl. I want to point out that these characters have had explicit conversations about consent and know and respect each other’s limits and safe words. Consent is sexy, y’all. The title is a reference to the song by The White Stripes.

Edit: As of May 2nd, 2021, I do not currently have plans to write the second part of this story unless inspiration suddenly strikes.

Axel had been waiting for a package for weeks. Your birthday had come and gone and it never arrived, sending him into a constant state of low-grade impatience that manifested itself in little eruptions from time to time. One minute his fingers were idly brushing the koi fish tattoo inked onto the surface of your thigh and the next he was hurling his phone across the room after checking the shipment's tracking information for the seventeenth time in a row.

"What the fuck, Axel?" you finally asked.

"It won't be delivered until Friday," he grumbled as he raked a hand through his hair, trying to calm his agitation.

"Are you ever gonna tell me what 'it' is?"

You picked at the chipping nail polish on your fingertips as you spoke, trying to seem casual about the question. You were curious, but if you let him see you get curious, it would inflate his ego. It was always more fun to be playfully aloof and force Axel into coming up with novel ways to try and impress you. His well of imagination never seemed to run dry.

"Only if you ask me real nicely," he said with a smirk, sliding his hand further up your naked thigh to grab at the waistband of your boy shorts, pulling them back and letting the elastic snap sharply against your hip.

It was your turn to smirk. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" You turned around and straddled his lap, staring at him with your best bedroom eyes and stroking his package over his jeans as you kissed the corner of his mouth. "Good night," you said in an airy voice, rising to your feet and leaving him there hard as a rock. He looked at you as though he didn't know whether to worship you or pull you back by the hair and tell you that you weren't going to bed without finishing what you started. Really, you were down for either option.

Axel grabbed your thigh before you could move away, a low growl escaping his lips. His hand dug into your flesh, holding you still as he yanked your shorts down and leaned in close, teasing your pussy with his tongue and sucking on your clit for a long, delicious moment with the expertise of a lover who knows your body even better than you do. You gasped and thought your knees might give out if he hadn't been holding your leg so firmly.

"Axel," you breathed.

He pulled away abruptly, leaving you standing there with your shorts around your knees and your head spinning. He gave your ass a quick smack.

"Get some sleep," he said. "You’re going to need it."

You found it impossible to sleep that night, laying against Axel's back with his arm wrapped around your hips, his hand pressed flat against your boy shorts just above the wet spot that was gathering in the fabric from your unabated arousal. You had heard him jerk off in the shower while you got dressed for bed and thought you'd get yourself off with a little help from your favorite vibrator, but you found the drawer empty when you went searching for it. Your silver bullet and the big pink monstrosity with the rabbit ears were both gone. When you confronted Axel, he had just grinned and slipped his fingers between your legs, clearly enjoying how wet you still were.

"You'll get them back," he said, his teasing strokes reminding you that he could turn you into putty with just one of his wicked fingers. "Tomorrow."

Normally you slept easier in his arms, knowing Axel was there to hold you and investigate any bumps in the night. Now you were just horny and agitated and his arm around your waist was like a harness keeping you from slipping out of bed to search for the place he'd hidden your stash of toys. You knew you could have set him straight earlier. It wouldn't have taken any effort—just a sharp lift of your brow as you told him to quit fucking with you. But you were curious to see what kind of filthy ride he'd take you on. That was your favorite thing about being with Axel. He never failed to surprise you.

Eventually you fell into some semblance of sleep. Neither of you had work in the morning, so Axel left you in bed to sleep in as late as you wanted. You were in a dead slumber when you heard him start shouting after the mail was delivered.

"You're fucking kidding me!" Axel bellowed from the kitchen. You furrowed your brows tightly and rolled over with a groan. What was he going on about now? You managed to haul yourself out of bed and padded down the hallway, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"Axel, what the fuck?" you asked.

He was standing by the kitchen table in his boxer shorts, holding a strange white appliance in his hands. It looked like an immersion blender with a rounded tip instead of the blender attachment. Axel held up the plug at the end of the cord and shook it wildly.

"The listing said it was compatible with an American outlet," he ranted. "Look at this."

You examined the plug. Sure enough, it had two cylindrical prongs like a European appliance. You glanced back at the device as he flipped it upside down to see if it listed its voltage on the side. From the new angle, it reminded you of a microphone.

"What the hell is this?" you asked, rifling through the box for an instruction manual and finding nothing. "You planning a karaoke night, Axeman?"

"Oh, this thing will make you sing, kitten," Axel chuckled. He threw it down on the table and walked back into the bedroom to pull on his jeans. The tone of his voice as he threatened you made your body suddenly remember its unfinished business from last night, and you felt everything inside you tighten with anticipation. Axel was always ordering new toys to enhance your sex life from one questionable website or another. The surprise on your face whenever he introduced something new in the bedroom delighted him so much that you were content to let him do the shopping. You picked up the device and turned it over in your hands, studying its shape. It didn't look like something that would go inside you, that was for sure. You suspected it was a vibrator, but you weren't sure why anyone would make a vibrator shaped like a miniature baseball bat. It seemed like overkill.

Axel came back into the kitchen, pulling on a leather jacket over an old band tee. He had showered earlier and he smelled like warm musk and agarwood. "I have to go pick up an adapter," he said, fishing his keys from his pocket. He pulled you into his arms and kissed you hard and deep, like he wanted to keep the taste of your lips in his mouth when he left. He squeezed your ass with both hands and you could feel his erection through his pants. You sucked on his lower lip as he pulled away, knowing it would make him think of you sucking his cock.

“Don’t take too long,” you said with a slight lilt in your voice. “I have a long line of ex-boyfriends who would do anything for one more chance with this pussy.”

You weren’t entirely sure how he’d react to that one, but you loved to toe that line, pushing him just as much as he pushed you. The words had barely left your mouth before you found yourself facedown on the kitchen table, the cardboard package flying to the floor as Axel pinned you and yanked your shorts down. He drew his hand back and slapped your ass as hard as he could. You dug your fingernails into the wood tabletop and yelped in surprise. It hurt, but the force rocked your core, making your toes curl with another pang of desire. Axel massaged the place where he’d struck you, still holding you down. Your heart was pounding and your vision was obscured by your own hair as you moaned, pressing your forehead against the table.

“Fuck me,” you cried as he smacked your ass again. Axel grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back. You both loved it when he was rough, but in his voice you heard the pent-up frustration of the past few weeks rising to a boiling point.

“Why should I?” he growled in your ear. “Why don’t you call one of your ex-boyfriends and ask them to do it?”

You knew you had fucked up then. Axel wasn’t the kind of guy who got jealous easily. He knew you found far more camaraderie with your male friends than you did with your female friends, and whenever you would go off to the local dive bar to hang with a nearly all-male crew and call him for a ride at three in the morning, he always trusted you. You hadn’t pushed one of his buttons this time—you’d practically shoved a fork into an electrical socket that was already primed for a surge.

“I don’t want to,” you said breathlessly. “I want you. I want you, only you.”

Axel wrapped his hand around your hair, pulling you off the table and pushing you onto your knees in front of him. “Oh yeah?” he gritted out. “Prove it.”

He didn’t have to say it twice. You quickly released the clasp of his belt and unzipped his jeans, shoving his boxers down over his hips. Axel slapped your cheek lightly, his grip on your hair keeping your head still and his cock just out of reach. You looked up at him, your lips parted and your face flushed pink.

“Tell me what you want, kitten,” Axel said. He looked less angry now, and a devious grin was growing on his lips.

“I want your cock in my mouth,” you insisted, tugging against his grip on your hair and trying to move your head closer. You wanted him to know that even though you teased him, he was the only man you wanted, the only one who could make you feel this desperate.

Axel chuckled. “You’re such a fucking slut,” he said, but he wrapped his hand around his shaft and eased his cock into your mouth. He held your head tightly by the hair, making it clear that he would be setting the pace, not you. You swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock and took him into your mouth, looking back up to make sure he saw how much you were enjoying yourself. You hummed around him, running your tongue along the underside of his shaft.

“Take it,” he grunted as he thrusted deeply, and you did. You relaxed your gag reflex, taking every inch and letting him fuck you just the way he liked. You reached around and grabbed his ass, pulling him in deeper with each thrust, as if to say harder. You almost couldn’t breathe, but it didn’t matter, because you knew you could tap out against his leg if it got too intense. He loved the little sounds you made as you tried not to gag, the feeling of your hands trailing over his hips and squeezing his balls. That pushed him to the edge, and soon he was groaning and finishing down your throat. You swallowed every drop and licked the tip of his cock clean like it was a lollipop, gazing at him in adoration.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Axel breathed, pushing your hair out of your face. You nuzzled your cheek into his hand.

“No,” you purred, savoring the taste of him on your lips. “Just me.”

@loomiz​ @scxrsgxrd​ @skrsgardspam​ @grandpa-sweaters​

[the-last-cuddlebender]

hi! if youre still taking requests could you do the gaang doing dumbassery because they are all dumbasses? (if you want) anyways ur cool have a nice day

Aw, thanks, Anon🥰 I’ll raise you one better and give you Christmas-themed-Modern!AU dumbassery (feat. Zuko, Sokka, and Aang)

Words: 973

******************************

Zuko approached the house with a slack jaw and a firm questioning of...well, of everything. He blinked three times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, and he immediately wanted to walk away when he realized he wasn’t imagining things. He had developed a sixth sense for knowing when he needed to have plausible deniability, and his instincts were screaming at him to get away from there.

Why. And why today. He was too tired for this.

“What…” Zuko struggled to find the ability to string his thoughts together. ‘Confused’ wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what he was feeling. He was concerned, for certain, and for many reasons. Some of it was for his own sake, but most of it was for his dwindling hope that humanity, as a collective, would be able to evolve forwards ever again. “...What is he doing?”

Sokka shrugged and didn’t look away from the warning-label-in-the-making wandering around on the roof. He lifted the lower half of his face out of his powder-coated jacket and accepted his fiancé’s greeting-gift of hot cocoa—extra marshmallows and a little gingerbread-man on top because being extra had its perks when Zuko got in trouble.

“He’s trying,” Sokka said between sips.

Zuko stared at the roof and the confused monk on top of it. And as he watched Aang gamble his life amongst the snowy shingles, he couldn’t help but have the same feeling of watching a documentary on National Geographic where he knew the baby deer was going to be killed and couldn’t do anything about it.

“But what is he trying?”

Sokka shrugged again. “‘Dunno. I’m just here to keep him company and to catch him when he falls off the roof again.”

“Again?”

Sokka spared him the same half-lidded gaze he had been giving their tattooed brother (in all but blood). “You were his teacher, Zuko. You should know he can be a pretty slow learner, sometimes.”

Zuko rubbed his growing headache and fought the urge to pound his head into the nearest tree. Aang was on the highest point of the roof and tangled in what had to be forty or so feet of Christmas lights. Thankfully, he had stopped waddling in a circle in his vain search for freedom and plopped into a seat in the snow. If the inevitable two-story fall didn’t kill him, then hypothermia definitely would. Born and raised in the mountains or not, he had no business wearing only jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with the damn sleeves rolled up to his elbows (the shirt was reindeer themed and had ‘Naughty List Advocate’ printed across the chest).

Sokka sipped his hot cocoa. Zuko contemplated his place in the universe. “...She’s going to kill us for letting him do this,” he said.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Sokka slung an arm around Zuko’s shoulders and tugged them together. He gestured with his cup of cocoa towards the arrowed human hazard. “Katara won’t spill blood around the holidays. She’s too much of a goodie-goodie. Besides, this is Aang’s first Christmas. She wouldn’t dare mess it up for him.”

Zuko scowled but looked thoughtful. “I guess it is, technically, his first Christmas. Has he really only been here for less than a year?”

“Eight months. Feels a lot longer than that. And don’t worry too much about him falling from the roof. He pretty much lived up there for the first few weeks he moved in.”

“...Why?”

“He missed the altitude.”

“Ah.”

A small avalanche slid off the roof and plopped into a heap in front of them. The Christmas lights were all somehow turned on and probably an electrical hazard with how taut they were pulled, and Aang paused for breath from trying to free himself of his cocoon of pretty colors. He moped—nearly pouting—in a way that made them fight the urge to hug him and donate to an ASPCA commercial.

“Has he even seen Christmas lights before?”

Sokka smiled from ear to ear. “Nooooope,” he said, suspiciously happy.

“And you didn’t bother correcting him on…,” Zuko gestured to Aang’s creative stringing of lights, “...whatever that is?”

“He knows what Google is. He can look it up if he wants to.”

“Does he, though? Does he really?” Zuko shook his head. “Someone has to tell him.”

“I think it’s cute. Let him figure out what it means to him all on his own.”

“Hey, Sokka!” Aang shouted from two sheer stories above them. “Are all of the lights working—Oh, hey, Zuko!” The overgrown golden retriever disguised as their best friend smiled down at them with a floodlight’s intensity. He flailed his freed arm like one of those inflatable things in front of car dealerships. “What do you think? Pretty cool, right? I’ve been working on it all day!”

“Yeah, I can see that!” Zuko said. Sokka cackled, and Zuko elbowed him. “It looks...It looks very nice, Aang! Just be careful, okay?”

“I am, don’t worry! I’ve fallen from higher places back at the Temple!”

Zuko gave Sokka a pointed look. “You still think he’s going to learn?”

“Point taken.” Sokka passed Zuko his hot cocoa so he could cup his hands over his mouth. “Hey, Aang! I think that’s enough! It looks really good, but you don’t wanna overdo it! It’ll be too bright!”

“But...But I still have so much left to do!”

“Can’t you finish it later?” Zuko yelled. “You’ll catch your death out here if you don’t put on a jacket!”

Aang ignored that last part. “I can’t stop! Katara is going to be home in a few hours, and I have to have the lights up before she gets here! It’s a surprise!”

Sokka cupped Zuko’s mouth with one hand and projected his voice with the other. “Okay, that’s fine, then! Just be careful, okay? We’ll be right here if you need us!”

Aang nodded so fast that his head threatened to come off his shoulders. “I will! Thanks, guys!”

Sokka released Zuko’s mouth, and Zuko mumbled through his forced smile so Aang couldn’t see him talking. “You do realize that if he gets so much as a scratch, then our lives are forfeit, right?”

Sokka laughed a little, shrugged yet again, and sipped his cocoa some more.

Zuko rolled his eyes so hard that it was a miracle he didn’t go blind. “Do you have to have a deathwish for Christmas?”

“Eh, it’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Right on cue, Aang appeared as if he had been summoned—first as a startled yelp, then as a snowballing cocoon of lights, and then as a projectile.

Luckily, Zuko caught him.

Not so luckily, Zuko hadn’t meant to catch him.

...Zuko’s broken arm throbbed just as badly as his headache, and Aang—lying in the hospital bed right next to him and admiring the little Christmas wreaths and snowflakes Katara drew on his leg’s cast (she even colored a blue line to show where his tattoo wound down his leg)—wasn’t exactly helping him.

He was way, way too tired for this.

Zuko made the mistake of looking at his companion-in-cast. Aang’s puppy-dog eyes were internationally ranked, and they disabled Zuko’s ability to say ‘no’ when he asked if he could pretty please make up for breaking his arm by decorating his cast for him.

(‘Creative’ wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the end result...But Zuko really did like the pair of red and green dragons. They had antlers and snowy-white beards, and the fire they breathed looked like Christmas lights thrown into a blender. It made the nauseating amount of permanent-marker-smell completely worth it.)

Every few hours, Sokka brought them greeting-gifts of hot cocoa and fruit cakes—extra marshmallows and moonpeach-flavored gooey centers because being extra had its perks when Katara was contemplating her allowance of her brother’s and her future brother-in-law’s continued existences.

Aang meekly showed Katara the little drawing he made of what he intended their roof to look like.

She kissed his frown away and practically lived on the roof for the next two days to make it happen.

Once the lights were lit, a small crowd gathered around their house like how people did when they saw a car accident.

But Aang couldn’t have been happier, and, when he slung his arms around their shoulders and thanked them for making his first Christmas that much brighter, Zuko and Sokka couldn’t not smile along with their brother (in all but blood) if they tried.

[saltlampsasuke]

Unfortunately, You Are Experiencing Symptoms of Falling in Love: Part 5

Having your long-term boyfriend cheat on you is pretty bad, but you're lucky enough to have a rich, pro-hero best friend who lets you move in with him until you get a new apartment. Except lockdown happens. And you can't look for a new apartment anymore, and you can't go anywhere anymore, and neither can your best friend, and you think you might be falling a little bit in love with him. Or maybe you've been in love with him all along.

The story of how it takes a nationwide lockdown for you and Bakugou Katsuki to finally get together, part 5!

warnings: Coronavirus mentions

wordcount: 1,936

taglist: @stargazerunlimited @luna-bloodrose​ @lov4kbg

So I am so so sorry for how long I took to update this, I don't really have a good excuse or explanation so I'll just once again say how sorry I am. But in good news, the plot setup is FINALLY over and now we can get to that good fluffy stuff! So thank you for bearing with me and please enjoy!

One morning, you woke up and saw that it had been two weeks since you moved in with Katsuki. You were a little surprised to realize how much time had passed without you noticing, and how easily you had integrated yourself into Katsuki’s life. Or rather, how much he had forced you to adapt to his ways of living. Not that you were complaining. You had been eating fantastically ever since you moved in, though Katsuki would refuse any thanks, and would often outright deny that he had made the food for you. And the apartment complex took care of your laundry for you, and you never really had to clean much either. It was almost like you were on vacation.

A typical morning for you would follow along these lines:

1) You wake up to the sound of Katsuki’s blender and your breakfast is waiting on the counter

2) You enjoy said breakfast and Katsuki says that he “doesn’t know why it’s there, now shut up and eat or you’ll be late for work”

3) You finish eating and get ready for work, which involves darting in and out of Katsuki’s bathroom, which causes you to bump into him with embarrassing frequency. Nothing terrible has happened yet, and you always knock and wait, but there’s always some part of you curious worried to catch him in a state of undress.

4) Katsuki gets fed up with your constant presence in his room and kicks you out so he can get ready (sometimes he will threaten to kick you out of his entire apartment, though you know he never means it)

5) You finish getting ready in your room and wait by the door for Katsuki to drive you to work

6) Katsuki stops by your favorite coffee shop, which now always has your order ready and waiting (who could have made that happen, I wonder)

7) You and Katsuki would have an argument over who would pay for your coffee (spoiler alert: it was never you who paid)

8) Katsuki would drop you off at work and demand you tell him when you need to be picked up, and no matter how much you tried to evade him he always was there once you walked out the door.

It was kind of embarrassing to admit, but the longer you spent living with Katsuki the happier you felt, and the more regret you felt as well for having let yourself become so sad and complacent with Takumi without even noticing. But you also had to pat yourself on the back for growing and moving past him. You rarely even thought about your ex now, and though part of you wondered what his reaction had been when he returned to a much emptier apartment, you didn’t have any time to think about him. You were too busy, between dealing with Bakugou at home and the destruction he wreaked on his gear in the field (as well as a special surprise you were cooking up for him as thanks), and you didn’t want to waste any mental space on such a waste of a man either.

Living with Katsuki was also so much nicer than living with Takumi had been. You two now had regular movie nights, would eat lunch together on the weekends, and sometimes, if he was tired enough from patrols, you could convince Katsuki to go swimming with you at night. The wide windows would let in the soft light from the moon and you could just relax. You felt so relaxed, all the time now. You felt safe. Of course, as soon as you had finally gotten truly settled and were ready to start looking for apartments again, not wanting to bother Katsuki for any longer than you already had, your life was once again upended in a way you could never have expected.

The first few things you heard about the virus came from the very man you roomed with. As a high-level pro hero, it was his job to be aware of threats to the citizens he protected, and while there wasn’t a way for him to blast a virus to bits, he still tried to stay informed. And of course, as a pro hero, he also had access to information from upper levels of government, and so he would always know about big developments before you. Still, initially, he didn’t seem worried. The only way you could tell that something was wrong was how he began to grow skittish at the idea of you moving out. Of course, that could have been for other reasons as well, but you were certain it was because of the virus.

To tell the truth, as days passed, you were also starting to worry about moving out. Getting a new roommate, or even a new apartment, could potentially be risky. You wouldn’t know the area, and you would be stuck with either a smaller, less nice apartment, or roommates, because you weren’t about to spend half of your paychecks on rent. And the situation was devolving quickly. To be honest, you would also miss having a in-house personal chef, even if he did yell at you.

Making matters even worse, the housing market seemed to have dried up completely. All the apartment listings you saw had something wrong with them; if you didn’t see the problem at first Katsuki would, and he wouldn’t hesitate to point it out. Dangerous neighborhoods, records of noise complaints, general ambiance, the minute you saw a halfway decent listing he would search it up and report back to you on why it wouldn’t work. Not to mention that all of the places that managed to pass his scrutiny were way out of your budget range.

He was just looking out for you, or as he put it “making sure he didn’t have to go to the trouble of moving your dumb ass back into his apartment again after your new places backfires”. And he was right every time about the problems. You were thankful he was taking the trouble, because otherwise you might have ended up in a real dump. But the days without a new place slowly grew in number. As did the number of cases. You knew both things were an issue. But you simply didn’t realize how much of an issue they would become until it was too late for you to do anything.

The morning you realized that your life was about to get even more different than it already had was the morning you didn’t wake up to the jarring screech of your best friend/temporary roommate’s deluxe blender, but rather to the smell of French toast. This wouldn’t by itself be light years past normal, but a quick look at your phone informed you that it was 9:37 on a Thursday morning. You slowly pulled yourself out of bed, confused. Katsuki would never let you sleep in like this unless it was some special occasion, and even then he would probably have woken you up eventually, calling you lazy to boot. As your brain began to wake from its fog, you headed towards your bedroom door. Katsuki was in the kitchen, you knew he had to be since you smelled him cooking, but nothing else about him seemed normal. He wasn’t in his sleeping clothes, but rather the kind of outfit he reserved for press conferences and major meetings, but the jacket was tossed on the floor and the clothes were rumpled like he had been doing hard work. His hair had lost it’s trademark spikes, flopping forward into his eyes, and he wasn’t doing anything about it. Worst of all was when you finally saw his face. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept the entire night. Come to think of it, considering how he looked, he probably hadn’t.

“Are you alright?” you said as he met your eyes. As he moved, you could see the exhaustion in his body, and you pulled him over to the couch, forcing him to sit down. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Let me make the damn breakfast, princess,” he grumbled from his seat, yet not moving.

“Breakfast can wait,” you replied as you turned off the burner. There was no way you could eat anything right now, not before you learned what was going on. “So talk.” Katsuki sighed heavily.

“Shit, where do I even start?” He ran his hands through his hair, causing it to lose even more of its shape. “I got a call last night around 8. Said it was an emergency meeting. I put on the fucking serious suit and everything, that’s how bad it sounded. Thought they were maybe gonna tell me that One for All had escaped or something. But this was… something else.” You held your breath as he explained. It was rare for him to be this serious, not exhibiting any emotion except determination. This was his battle face. You just had to wait for him to tell you what he would be fighting.

“I know you’ve heard about the virus that’s been going around, but it’s gotten real bad, princess. Turns out some higher-ups were downplaying it, thought it was maybe some weird quirk that they could shut down or something, but it’s not. We’ve got a real disease on our hands, and nobody can stop it. It’s gonna go global.” You blinked rapidly, trying to grasp the magnitude of what he was saying.

“Ok, but there has to be some quirk or something that can stop it, right? We can fix this?” you asked nervously. Katsuki shook his head.

“Hold on, princess. I’m getting there. We all talked about it. Everyone was there. All the big heroes, all the heads of whatever departments, anyone you can think of whose job it is to take care of the public. And there’s nobody. Healing quirks are rare as is, and with the way the virus has been spreading, no one quirk would be enough.”

“So what do we do then?” Katsuki placed a hand on your knee in an attempt to comfort you.

“Bet you’re wondering why I look like shit.” You nodded slightly. “We were out all night coming up with a strategy. We’re gonna get all our science guys on this, use whatever quirks we have to study this virus, and then do whatever we can to get a vaccine going. But for the time being, we have to shut down. The whole country has to stay home.” You stared at him in shock. Part of you had been wondering what would happen if the virus wasn’t a quirk, or if it couldn’t be stopped, but you hadn’t actually thought it possible. And now the entire nation had to be put on pause.

“Only essential shit can stay open. Grocery stores, hospitals, you get the idea. But everyone else has to stay in their house. There’s gonna be a more detailed plan later. But you won’t be leaving this building unless absolutely necessary.” Katsuki paused, clearly preparing to drop an even bigger bomb than the one he had just dropped. “And neither will I. I’m number 2. We’re hoping for a drop in crime if everyone takes this as seriously as they should, but they want the big heroes to avoid getting sick in case they need us to take out big villains if they try anything. They don’t want us out of commission if they need us. So it’s gonna be you and me in here. And it looks like it’s gonna be a while.”

---------------

Please forgive me for how short this is honestly I just wanted to be done with this chapter I know it's bad but now that I'm past it hopefully things will get better. And I think I’ll be remaking this blog because I apparently accidentally made this my side blog so I can’t reply to people so please keep an eye out for an update/post about that! I’ll also tag the new blog in all my posts so sorry for any trouble!!! Thank you for your support!

[littledraga]

Cookies and Cream

@ask-the-becile-boys After far too long, I’m finally finished! Scratch needs something sweet. And Skull knows just what to do! Well, actually he doesn’t, but he knows where to start!

Scratch had been spending a lot of time in the kitchen since he had joined their mess of a home. If anyone would dare call it that. Once they had gotten him settled and figured out, Skull sent Riker out to get a blender. Guy had to eat, and he wasn’t going to go far with ramen broth.

He knew the cheapest fruits and vegetables already, which made making sure he had enough, a lot easier. It wasn’t long until his experiments had trickled over to Riker. It was the healthiest he’d ever eaten in the manor. At least until Skull teased him that maybe it would protect him from scurvy. Or maybe, he was just hiding it.

Things were fine for a while, even as Scratch got a little more adventurous with his concoctions. No matter how much he gagged, he’d finish whatever he made. Which sometimes made Skull glad he couldn’t get sick. It wasn’t a problem until Scratch’s sweet tooth took over.

Adding honey to everything seemed fine, and he was happy enough. Though Skull was sure, some of them were more honey than anything else. It was different when he caught Scratch blending up candy. Skull had to rush him to Riker when it gummed up his ventilator, and he couldn’t breathe.

“You can’t be eating like that, Scratch!” Yelled Riker once he was finished cleaning out the last of the gummy candy mix. Scratch had nearly passed out, scared them all. But before Riker could scold him any more, he shrunk back from Skull’s glare.

After a moment, Scratch sat up from the workbench, curling his knees up to his chest with a forlorn look. He tapped his pointer and middle finger to his thumb twice before putting his hands to his chin folding his fingers to his palm twice. ‘No sweets.’

Skull watched him sign and puffed a small cloud of smoke. Gently, he laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

He couldn’t taste anything, didn’t even like the idea of making food. Not after, before. But Skull felt like he owed Scratch. Without him and the others, he would have been torn apart on that table, or worse. Scratch deserved better.

Desserts weren’t something he had a lot of experience in and less for things that were safe for a liquid diet. Milkshakes were safe. Sweet and smooth, so long as he didn’t add anything to it that might block Scratch’s vent. Something his old cookbooks couldn’t manage.

With an annoyed puff of smoke, he donned his hat and coat to go out for a walk. He needed more options. While he tried not to go often, sometimes the library had its uses.

It was a small run down thing, standing up on will alone. Never enough funding to keep it up, it seemed. And didn’t he know that feeling? Heading inside, he went looking for more recent cookbooks. There had to be something useful in there.

Soon as he stepped in the door, he got strange and uncomfortable looks. Pulling his coat around himself tighter, he pretended he didn’t notice. Just focus on the cookbooks. They had to be nearby, it wasn’t that big of a building.

The longer he was there, the more looks he got. Some people even started covering their faces. It wasn’t his fault he ran on coal! He hated being out in public. No matter where he went, he always got looks for the smoke curling up through his neck.

The longer he went, the more he realized he was going to have to ask for help. Skull didn’t ask for help. Only ever caused him trouble. But he needed to make something sweet for Scratch.

He worried they would be too afraid of him to talk, which of course, meant he pumped more coal smoke into the air. Which made him look even scarier. Stupid coal burning furnace, he thought to himself as he stepped up to the desk.

When the woman looked up at him and shrunk back, he tried not to sigh. More smoke still curled from his neck. “Where are the recipe books?” He muttered, trying not to look threatening.

"I'm sorry, what was that dear?" She asked, trying not to be obvious, that she was covering her face to block out the smoke.

He did sigh then and winced when she fanned the air in front of her. Swallowing thickly Skull's shoulders slumped. “I’m trying to find the recipe books, ma’am. My friend is on a liquid diet, and I want to make him something sweet.”

That made her face soften. "Ah! I see! How sweet of you!" She giggled at her own joke.

Skull tried not to roll his eyes at that and forced a smile.

“Cookbooks are in the corner over there, dear. There’s paper vegetables on the bookcases.” She pointed over his shoulder to the far end of the floor. Tucked off in the corner was a small set of shelves with food all over it.

With a small grunt and a nod, he stepped away and headed off to the little corner of the library. For such a small selection, there were more dessert books than he was expecting. Some of them even seemed almost as old as he was. Those he was afraid to touch, they would probably crumble in his grip.

Most of them were out in a glance, large chunks floating in the ice cream. They didn’t need another incident. When Scratch started to change colour, he had feared the worst. Never again.

The first option was Guinness Stout. Skull frowned. Best hide that from Riker he didn’t need to start pouring booze anywhere else. Let alone with Scratch.

More and more sweet sugary things added to milkshakes, more recipes he wouldn’t use. At least there were options. There was hope yet. Until he found an avocado. Who wanted to have a vegetable milkshake? Well, Scratch did make lots of fruit and vegetable smoothies. That was close. But no good for his hunt for sweet things.

More shakes were just adding more and more bulky chunky things. Skull was losing hope with the books. Ready to snap the book closed and march out empty handed he found one that only had cookies on top of it. Those could be removed, so long as the rest of it held up to snuff.

Cookies and Cream. Seemed easy enough. Grind cookies down into a powder. That seemed safe enough. Maybe not often, but this was a treat after all. Reading it over to make sure Skull understood before he snapped the book closed and put it back on the shelf.

It would do. Pulling the hat low on his brow, Skull headed out to get what he needed. Ice cream, cookies, milk. This would be easy. He just hoped Scratch would like it.

Or he thought it would be easy. The first time he used the blender, he forgot the lid. Cookies went flying across the kitchen, some daring to smack him in the face for spite. “Stupid, fucking blender!” He yelled, picking it up off the counter. Skull had the mind to throw the damned thing across the room. But Scratch needed it, and another blender was too expensive.

Slamming it back down, Skull brushed himself off and got ready to try again. This time he double checked the lid was on tightly. He ran the blender a little longer, just to be safe. He didn’t want to put Scratch at risk.

Next, he fumbled with the ice cream to milk ratio. At first, it hardly poured. Would he even be able to drink that? He added more milk to thin it out. Only then it looked more like flavoured milk. Milkshakes were frustrating! Just when Skull thought he got it right, someone tapped on his shoulder.

Skull jumped and nearly lost the shake he had been pouring. Turning around, he got ready to scold whoever thought it was a good idea to sneak up on him! Only to stop when he saw Scratch there, shrunk back and looking worried.

Scratch pointed to Skull before making a thumbs up and moving it in a circle. ‘Are you okay?’

At getting caught early, Skull let out a nervous plume of smoke. When Scratch took a step back, he sighed and held up the blender to show him. “I wanted to make you something sweet you could have that wouldn’t hurt ya.”

His real eye lit up when he saw the milkshake. Pointing at Skull again Scratch stacked his fists over themselves. He twisted them twice then, put a hand on his chest a moment before squeezing it twice and making a shaking motion. ‘You made me a milkshake?’ Scratch looked like he was about to cry.

Skull looked uncomfortable, but he tried to smile for him. Putting the blender down, he made a knocking motion twice with his fist. Bringing his hands up loosely in front of himself, he moved them quickly from side to side. “Yeah, I did.”

Bringing his hand to his chin over and over, Scratch was nearly dancing in place. ‘Thank you, thank you!’ The kid looked like a little kid getting candy. Which, Skull supposed, wasn't too far off.

Chuckling, Skull poured him a large glass and topped it with what might have been an excess of whipped cream. Once he had plunked a straw in it, he handed it off.

Scratch carefully took the glass before eagerly taking a long sip. Closing his eye, he stood perfectly still as he enjoyed the flavour. Happily, he looked up at Skull and rubbed his belly. ‘Yummy!’ he silently cheered.

Everything worked out just fine, Skull thought to himself. It was worth the trip to see the kid happy. Chuckling, he signed a W and curled it away from his mouth. “Yer, welcome. Figured you deserved something sweet.”

While he cleaned up, Skull was happy to chat with Scratch and try to come up with new ideas for shakes and other things he could eat.

Scratch deserved better, and he’d try.

[galadhir]

Brown mustard-leaf soup recipe

Guess who made soup today? It was me, I did it! Specifically, soup made out of brown mustard of the sort that is sold in big bags of seed to sow as green manure.

The idea is that you sow the seed on poor, bare ground. The mustard grows, fixing nitrogen in the soil as it does so. Its rapid growth and spreading leaves form a useful mulch, shading the soil and crowding out weeds until you’re ready to plant food crops. At which point you cut the mustard down and either dig it into the soil or use it as chop-and-drop fertilizer/mulch.

Long story short, I spent most of the winter tearing up ivy which had rooted in the ground by the side of the house. You couldn’t call it a garden, it was an impenetrable thicket. When I got the ivy out of the ground, I discovered it had rooted through a layer of weed suppressant membrane, and the soil underneath was compacted and stale. So I made a pond, planted a scattering of tiny plants (lavender, primrose, various small cabbage seedlings, wild garlic, two hazelnut bushes, rhubarb and a broom bush) and sowed the rest of the bank with mustard.

I’ve been more or less keeping up with it, by cutting down the stems around the plants when it threatens to shade them out. But now it looks like this:

And by the time I’d cleared it from around the permanent plants, I had such a huge handful of it, I decided it was time to have my second meal from the garden.

(The first was the dandelion flower pesto, which I think I mentioned earlier?)

Anyway, I got into the kitchen with a big bunch of mustard greens which, when washed, weighed 300g and looked like this

Then I went googling for a recipe to cook with them. But – other than pickling them with brine or frying them with bacon – there was nothing. I wanted to eat, I didn’t want to pickle. And I’m a vegetarian. So it was time to experiment. This is what I came up with:

Mustard soup recipe

(A charming mix of metric and Imperial measures because that’s just how I roll.)

300g (ish) leaves of brown mustard

1 onion

2 tbsp cooking oil (I used sunflower, but you could use whatever)

2 tbsp chopped smoked garlic

1 tbsp chopped fresh ginger

mixed herbs and garlic granules to taste (approx 2 tsp each)

1 pint vegetable stock (two veg stock cubes in a pint of boiling water.)

Coarsely chop the onion, fry in the oil until lightly caramelized. Add garlic, herbs and ginger and fry for a bit longer.

Add washed mustard leaves (you don’t even have to chop them.) Mix around until they reduce the way spinach does.

Add vegetable stock. Put a lid on the pot and simmer for 15 minutes.

When everything is soft, blend well with a hand-held blender. You’ll get something that looks like this.

Please excuse the artistic dollop of home made yoghurt – I had to make it look posh for the internet 😉

I looked at this khaki coloured soup with a skeptical eye. It was thicker than I’d feared it would be. (I like a thick soup.) But what would it taste like? There was only one way to find out. I stuck my spoon in and sipped. Then, in incredulous surprise, I said loudly to the empty kitchen, “Oh fuck, that’s gorgeous!”

It really was. It was very full-flavoured, savory, warming, spicy, with just a hint of tannin-like bitterness in the back of the throat. I’ve got at least another bowl full left, but next time I’m going to make twice as much. If we ever get out of lock down again, it’s a feed-to-friends dish for sure.

[melisamaxey67-blog]

Building An Awesome Spot To Plant Cannabis Seeds

There are extensive other aromatherapy soaps offered but what's important is basically purchase an aromatherapy soap made from all of natural ingredients because items that have artificial or unnatural ingredients won't produce exactly the results.

Right now, in the California County of sunny San Diego, there is often a battle brewing between the corrupt legal district, Lively Effect CBD Review the Cannabis community and thousands of freedom fighters, all whom are regarding the political fiasco's possess threatening to finish swallowing their county as well as its citizens thorough. Much less than one omega3 source always be added on the everyday nourishment. This can be fish or fish oil in its raw form, flax seeds or flax seed oil, Lively Effect CBD Oil Benefits, walnuts, shrimps, navy beans or Lively Effect CBD Reviews soy beans. Corn oil and extra virgin olive oil also provide some numbers of these body fat. Enriched eggs are company cards . source quit be a part of the everyday diet. If you are using the microwave method, you will have pour the melted soap, return the soap base to the microwave and continue energy. This will prevent over heating. Use fresh tomatoes additionally you use dried tomatoes to thicken upward. So the most through you're making a crust because was probably a mixer and then you are making a filling, so that's probably a blender, so it you 45 minutes to an hour to make a raw cake. If something have plans of what exactly needs to be done, it's advisable to employ the services of a Social Media Consultant to help you or even just take over the social media tasks, which usually turn can free Cannabis Study your own time, and can give attention to what is most crucial in your life and/or business. Quinoa may be very similar to rice, even so like you will better. It packs more nutrition punch, too. This whole grain contains 5 grams of fiber and 11 grams of protein per half trophy. Quinoa's protein is about 16 percent, which is higher than any other grain. I'd like my back, lats and traps in order to full and robust and I would personally sure prefer to get gone these chicken legs. We're sure that each guy on earth would enjoy being bigger and stronger.

[ganymedesclock]

I’m aware that a lot of my headcanons for Ganon, Link, and Zelda is rooted in the fact that I love personality powers and there’s something interesting about what all three’s aptitudes say about them in contrast to the roles they’re given by the narrative and what we’re ostensibly told about them.

Buckle in, because this got... very long.

Zelda

In both OoT and BotW Zelda is tied closely to the Sheikah; in the former, she has been raised by one (Impa) and assimilates fully into their culture when it becomes too dangerous to exist as the princess of Hyrule. In BotW, she is fascinated by their culture and technology and wants to study it in detail. The Sheikah clan is established as the motif of a weeping eye- this connection is also implied in Twilight Princess with Impaz and the conspicuous Sheikah eye embroidered on Zelda’s cloak.

There’s a strong implication here of seeing. And Zelda’s powers tend to take two forms: one, perceiving herself or allowing others to perceive- and the other is penetrating the darkness by cutting it down.

A friend of mine aired the idea that the implication of the Sheikah weeping eye may suggest the Sheikah originated as exorcists- because any veteran Zelda player knows that the way to deal with virtually all of the game’s enemies is go for the eye. The implication of the crest would then be that the Sheikah are those who blind Demise’s eyes, preventing the original demon god from continuing to influence the world.

But an eye also sees. The gossip stones are traditionally hailed as a Sheikah invention. Sheik’s specific role in OoT is to guide Link by illuminating, revealing things to them.

Zelda as a character is correlated heavily with light; if we take BotW thematically tying Ganon to the moon as an enduring quality of his character (especially since in Wind Waker, he’s able to halt the movement of the heavens temporarily, over his home fortress and for a period of time over the entire sea, causing perpetual night) then the golden light conflated with Zelda would seem to be the rays of the sun. In Twilight Princess she is able to command the light spirits, and is the only non-twili truly unaffected by the cloud of twilight- a feat that the twili themselves weren’t capable of without seemingly turning their magic heavily unto their own bodies and losing the ability to walk in daylight as a result.

In Wind Waker, she takes possession of the Hero’s Bow and its Light Arrows, which, for anything less powerful than Ganon caught in its crosshairs, they’re pierced and immolated in a beam of light.

Light handily reflects the duality of Zelda’s powers as implied by the Sheikah: light can be blinding, destroying- and light can also be revealing, transmitting, clarifying.

However, taken together, this does not invoke a gracious and gentle maiden. If anything, it would almost suggest that the reason many Zeldas come across passively is because of active effort on her caretakers’ part to clip her wings and prevent her from actualizing. The nature of Zelda as implied by her powers is someone who pierces situations, who challenges and dismantles falsehood; an oracle and an executioner. Of the chosen three, she’s the destroyer- because while Link often wields the light arrows, they’re conflated much more with Zelda than they ever are with him.

Zelda is not presented as the gracious sun that presides over a warm field of wheat. She is not depicted as cruel, but there is an intensity, a veiled frustration, implied by her powers- it suggests that Zelda is someone who yearns to cut through obstructions in her path.

It implies Zelda, the detective, and most certainly, the exorcist. Her powers are for picking a target precisely, evaluating its nature and weaknesses, and, if need be, obliterating it with grace and precision.

Ganon

On the flipside, Ganon, who we’re continuously told is an element of wrath and destruction... has powers geared heavily towards restoration. The most powerful abilities he’s ever shown in terms of scale and effect are his darkening the skies in Wind Waker and, in Breath of the Wild, the rising of the blood moon.

Everything Ganon accomplishes in BotW is a testament not to supernatural resilience but his ability to reconstruct himself and spread that same power to his allies. No wonder in Twilight Princess Zant calls him a god; his command of flesh, blood, and bone is certainly impressive enough that he could be described as someone with power over life and death itself. He’s able to heal the mortal injuries of a huge number of people and creatures with disparate physiology, at range, while his body is overwhelmingly splattered across the countryside.

Hell, that power is so interesting and so strong that if you have Ganon as anything but final boss, you pretty much have to nerf it. It also could afford an interesting context to how in many of the earlier games and stories based on them, a point is made that Ganon can only be injured by certain weapons- holy silver, sacred light, or the Master Sword (which implicitly has a silvered blade; it’d explain that gleaming white blade it has).

It could be not that Ganon’s flesh has some power to repel harm as much as anything else turned against him merely has him regenerate, possibly, depending on how well he’s able to generate Malice in incarnations where his regeneration didn’t get disrupted repeatedly and smashed up in a blender, even colonizing the offending weapon, digesting it, and reconstituting it as part of himself.

Now, Ganon doesn’t have quite so clear and predictable a thesis to his powers; his ability to turn into various creatures and move undetected place to place tend to have different explanations but you can pretty easily rope them under the capabilities of a shapeshifting regenerative blob monster. And given the time he’s had to work with, it makes sense that he would have a much more versatile skill set than Link and Zelda, and enthusiastically dabble in any new form of power he gets his hands on. 

The electricity he wields in ALttP and Thunderblight being the most formidable of the Blights would seem to suggest that’s a favorite of him- not only is electricity the element conflated with the Gerudo in BotW, but Ganon’s teachers and mother figures were Twinrova, who are fire and ice witches. Assuming Ganon’s a lightning user would neatly bracket the pupil in with his mentors and further indicate the land Ganon originally hailed from.

Where Zelda’s abilities are heavily focused in two areas and fit according to a concise thesis, Ganon’s standout power of healing and his implicit favored element of thunder don’t have so clear a notion behind them; only one conflates directly with his lunar motif. But this still suggests things about his character, and you can make a connection here:

While the sun is always the same, the moon continuously changes its face. While all of the Chosen Three are redesigned repeatedly, Ganon is overwhelmingly the same person deep down- so the transformations he goes through are just that. He changes, but a certain core of him remains the same. And as a healer- as someone who basically has an incredibly tenacious grasp to life so much so that when run to his limits in BotW, pieces of his body scatter, separate, and latch onto the landscape itself for survival- it makes sense that he would be the assimilating force of the three of them.

He’s the man with a thousand enemies and who has died something like a hundred times by now- he’s the pariah who lives at the edges of the world, refusing to stay down, refusing to stay in his grave no matter which new king of hyrule thinks they can stake him and put a rock over it. So he uses that changing face and seizes everything he can. Survival at all costs. No wonder his conflated animal motif is a creature once known in the ancient world for running the length of the weapon it was impaled with to kill the person holding it.

And, yet. The fact that Ganon is ultimately focused on his own survival isn’t the only application of his healing powers. He’s also someone who heals others. I mentioned that Zant’s reverence in TP makes a lot of sense in the face of BotW- but, we also have a pretty compelling argument why so many disparate groups, time and time again, unite under his banner. It’s not fear- it’s hope.

If Ganon just walked into people’s villages as a warlord and threatened them into fighting for him, that loyalty would wither easily. But we know that even when he’s doing absolutely miserable, Ganon tends to galvanize Hyrule’s “monsters” into a feeding frenzy of growth and development. The average moblin is a lot less likely to forget Ganon or turn their back on him if they have a scar from a mortal injury and know that it was Ganon, their savior, and his moon rising in the sky that personally saved their life and probably dozens of other people they knew.

It’d suggest exactly what Zant’s proselytizing does- that to the people who work for Ganon, he’s viewed in a messianic light, in contrast to his pariah status in the rest of Hyrule’s eyes. And that doesn’t appear to be insincere on Ganon’s part- while TP appears to end with Zant severing his connection with Ganon, it stands that Zant was in a position to do that after Midna killed him- which would tell us that Ganon resurrected Zant again, after a point when Zant was no longer useful to him.

Sure, Ganon’s not exactly an honorable person. There are plenty of accounts in various stories of him lying through his teeth or buttering someone up only to discard their corpse at a key moment. But the fact that Ganon callously throws certain people under the bus while taking pains to heal others is not necessarily contradictory- it just tells us that Ganon is a loyal compassionate person... to certain entities. To others, they can rot, and he won’t give a shit. But his healing power would logically, then, be a gateway to who he’s decided he really wants to live. And many of the entities with him, both sapient and non, would appear to be beneficiaries of his mercy, to the point that the implication of creatures like Helmaroc in Wind Waker is that Ganon could very well have hand-reared and personally trained that behemoth given its very exclusive loyalty and attentiveness to his commands. We see no one else- even in Forsaken Fortress- commanding Helmaroc.

Someone not capable of long-term kindness and patience towards what would have been an incredibly difficult baby to take care of would never have gotten access to a creature like that in the first place. I know Nintendo put Helmaroc there to be a boss monster and didn’t want us to think about it, but the watsonian implications are obvious and damning- Ganon isn’t backstabs mclovesmurder, and he is capable of spending a long time lavishly investing in an animal in a way that leaves it earnestly willing to fight, hunt, and kill on his behalf, and unafraid of him. Thus, Ganon being genuinely cruel to people is something that happens in situations he feels are personally warranted- where he feels he was wronged first. In short, he’s potentially petty, vengeful, and very good at holding grudges- but he doesn’t hate indiscriminately, and that’s a noteworthy distinction.

It’s another angle of that changing face, of that lunar motif- Ganon is not someone who’s easy to figure out, in part because he often actively does not want to be known. In Wind Waker, he appears to have a conversation with Link only to reveal Link was talking to a monstrous puppet while the real Ganon escaped. In ALttP he extinguishes all the lights and hides as a shadow. In TP he goes through multiple layers of hiding himself behind barriers and even inside Zelda’s body. A lesser theme that crops up here is evasion. While Ganon’s certainly not unequipped for a direct fight, he tends to try and avoid it as long as possible, divert attention onto proxies or shields. 

In BotW, “the Calamity” is obviously clever, bringing about catastrophe by dramatically outfoxing the entire royal family and not just negating, but actively weaponizing in his favor things that were used against him in the past, guaranteeing that win or lose, it’ll be a long time before Hyrule is so friendly with the Guardians and Divine Beasts- and int hat time they’ll probably have forgotten about his intelligence again. Yes, Ganon hardly deliberately engineered being dehumanized, but, he’d be long used to it at this point- at this point, he’s probably able to set his watch to someone forgetting he was ever a mortal person, and he can play the role of a mindless beast easily enough. He can swing it in his favor.

In a way, it furthers that sense that Ganon’s not actually mutable at his core- if anything, he’s rather stubborn and brash- but he is very prone to accumulating and utilizing external ‘faces’ to try and stay protected, to stay untouched.

Which brings us to, finally:

Link

Link’s motifs are probably the most interesting because they tend aggressively mutable. Hero of Time, Hero of Winds, Hero of Wild, Hero of Twilight, Hero of the Sky. Unlike Zelda or Ganon, Link lacks an obvious conflation with either day or night. If anything, Link stands out because he tends to have balanced and contradictory associated motifs.

The fearful rabbit and the aggressive wolf, for example.

In Twilight Princess, the light spirit Faron councils Link that in order to defeat Zant, he must match Zant in power- and this starts gathering the Fused Shadows that Midna ultimately uses to destroy Ganon’s barrier around Hyrule Castle.

Zelda is mainly conflated with the harp (shown playing other instruments from time to time, but the harp is the most consistent between Sheik and Skyward Sword’s Zelda), Ganon the rare times he’s shown with an instrument the organ, and certainly Link’s most famous instrument is the ocarina, but he also takes up a huge number of different instruments throughout the games. Likewise, while the Master Sword is his signature weapon, he sometimes spends entire games without it, or using a different sword instead, and every game, without fail, sees him accumulating a large number of different tools and armaments and using all of them.

At a glance, this can seem like proof Link is an everyman hero without personality- an empty vessel for the player’s will. But unlike in, say, Undertale, there is no in-universe acknowledgement the player exists, ever. And Link does plenty of things without player input, or where the player can only choose one of a few options to respond with.

So in-universe, what does it say about someone who is incredibly versatile, but also consistently characterized as the furthest thing from weak-willed?

It suggests that while Zelda might be the sun and Ganon the moon, Link is the interceding force between them; perhaps embodied as the manifold and diverse light of the stars. It suggests a vague, yet powerful sense of self- Link doesn’t need to know who he is or where he comes from, it’s what he chooses to become that defines his fate for him. Which lends significance to how, while Ganon in ALttP was able to take possession of the full triforce, the only one who’s united the triforce inside their body was the first Link in Skyward Sword.

Many games feature Link actively taking qualities from his enemies- in ALBW, his ability to proceed at all is by stealing Yuga’s curse and using it against him. In TP, he very quickly exploits his abilities in his changed form to proceed even before he utilizes Zant’s “help”. In fact outside of ALttP, where he found a way to circumvent it entirely, I can’t think of a single time Link’s gotten cursed where he hasn’t fairly rapidly made peace with it and swung it in his favor.

Hell, it’s worth noting that in BotW Link would even seem to have an indifferent relationship with gender since he’s not particularly concerned wearing traditionally feminine clothes to enter the Gerudo city. (at least, that’s how I’m choosing to interpret that to save myself a lot of frustration,)

It ultimately comes down to a sense that while Zelda might conceal herself, while Ganon might adapt and change his outer layer, Link, out of the chosen, is the one prone to true metamorphosis.

This is the significance to Link always being conflated as an outsider- he doesn’t have a specific biased anchoring to Hyrule or it’s systems. And it’d reflect how, with the help of masks, BotW Link has absolutely no problem partying it up with a bunch of monsters- or, with masks again, Link in Majora’s Mask basically becomes a full-time medium helping the spirits of the dead find peace through his body.

Heck, Skyward Sword’s Skyward Strike, the mechanics of transformation in Twilight Princess, and Link’s unique ability to see Zelda’s ghost outside of her body in Spirit Tracks would seem to point to the idea that Link in general is ghost sensitive / kind of a medium. It’d also reflect on how, while Zelda and Ganon both tend to be established mages, Link lacks magical power until it’s bequeathed by some kind of outside source.

[thegreen1969pontiac]

L’appel Du Vide Chapter 1- I Don’t Speak French

                                        Eventual Dean x OC

Summary: When Hope’s sister is killed in a less than a normal house fire, and Sam, her sister's boyfriend, disappears with his brother after her death they’re her number one suspects. When the cops declare the case cold she begins her hunt for the Winchester boys. She follows them in hope for some evidence pointing to the death of her sister, but will she find more than just the cause and the killer? Will she find out more than she wanted to? 

Warning: minor mention of suicide, death, violence, lots of language

Word Count: 1392

L’appel du Vide. It was something I learned in my psychology class. It was, obviously French.

It means ‘The Call To The Void’.

Its when, for a split second, when for that little moment you want to jump into oncoming traffic, or when you are in a multiple-story hotel and you want to jump off the balcony and onto the car below. It happens quite often with the myriad of potentially dangerous things that the world has to offer. 

I was often moving from crappy hotel room to another which gave me plenty of moments to experience this unfathomable feeling. Sometimes I would look out off of the white chipping balcony and lean just far enough off of it that I was no longer on the balcony, my torso was being supported by nothing other than my own spine, and then I could see the dark smoky sky above me and quickly suck in a breath and pull myself back.

After I would do this seemingly ritual action, I take one last sip from the Jack Daniels and coke mix and leave my highball glass for the next person to pick up. I’d open the dirty sliding plastic door that was made to look like glass and get under the lukewarm water with light pressure which honestly just felt like a hose, and wash my long, blonde, hair with the too small shampoo and conditioner bottles. Then occasionally I would end up shaving my legs which would later result in my cursing and bleeding all over the hotels decaying carpet.

 I would get in bed, think about how often couples would sleep there, close my eyes and then suddenly wake up in horror from the assumption that the sheets of the bed most likely haven’t been clean since they were bought and end up sleeping in the armchair that always seemed to come with the hotel room and shiver until morning. And that's how my life has played out since I turned eighteen four years ago, the big, ol’ green 1969 Pontiac GTO hauling me from town to town.

My pride and joy is Theo, I bought him off my uncle when I was 21 with my own money, it was one of the only things that was ever truly mine. Theo was old and needed a little care when I  took the big ol’ boy, but after summers of working on him with my Uncle, I couldn't give him up. Theo was a sight to be seen when I first saw him, the carpet and the leather seats were scratched and stained into oblivion. After a couple drinks shared with the mechanic in New Orleans on a typical rainy day, I agreed to get most of the interior replaced. After the grueling hours that Judd, the mechanic of Orleans put into the car for my sake I also made it my life goal to keep the outside of the car as clean and spotless as the inside.

The car was almost always washed and dried by my hand, in the parking lot of a crap-hole hotel and after it was, it would be waxed with a couple of dirty rags I had in the trunk of the car. I would spend 30 minutes or more scraping unfortunate bugs off of Theo’s windshield.

That's what I was doing, sitting underneath the blazing Wyoming sun and the flickering neon lights that shined down on Theo and I. I was relentlessly trying to dispel a crushed bug off of the corner of the windshield that wouldn’t release its unrelenting hold on the car. My drink was sitting on the pavement next to me, a cheap glass I found in a cabinet was filled to the brim with rum and coke with ice cubes reaching to the surface for a glimpse of the sun's blistering heat.

I normally am not a fan of heat. Sticky sweat and humidity is not my favorite, but the dry Wyoming desert was almost comforting, the warm sun engulfed me in a warm embrace, almost as if the vitamin D was seeping into my pores. I picked up my drink, the ice cubes struggling to still keep afloat as they were melting faster than they could cool my drink.

I hear the familiar ringing from inside Theo. It was the cell that save for my sister and my mother, I never used. 

Seeing as I only ever expected calls near around 7-ish I grew quickly concerned, my father tended to have heart issues and with my sister at college, my mother and father were alone more often than not. I set down my drink on the blacktop and heard the clinking of the glass on asphalt. I went over to the car's rolled down window and pulled the cell phone from out of the glove box. Answering the beeping ringtone before it faded away.

“Hello?” I asked unsure if I wanted to hear the response seeing as I knew it would only be something important, otherwise, they wouldn't have called so early.

“Somethings happened to Jessica. Honey, we can’t make it back there soon enough. You have to go make sure it's her.” My mother said the tears I could hear were threatening to spill. For a second I didn't comprehend what exactly she was asking of me. Identify her for what? Why would I need to make sure it's her?

Then it hit me, like a slap to the face. It felt as if someone ripped out my organs and threw them in a blender only to shove them back in. It hit me harder than anything I've ever felt, more than when my cat was hit by a car, more than when I broke my leg falling off the roof trying to sneak out, more than the worst thing I could have ever imagined.

They want me to identify her body, to identify her non-living body so they knew it was my sister and not some other unlucky girl that was too mutilated to be recognized. Then suddenly I couldn't breathe, I couldn’t speak, nothing. I felt all of that pain in what felt like a condensed ball rising out of my throat and I screeched.

The scream wasn't even that, it was something that dying animals make, something so horror filled and pain riddled that it didn’t sound human. My mother was sobbing on the phone now, I couldn’t find it in myself to console her. I couldn’t even calm myself down enough.

 I don't even remember falling. The stinging in my knees wasn’t important, the blood seeping out of my skin where it had made such abrupt contact with the asphalt didn't matter either. I felt none of it, all I could feel was the mind-numbing pain that seemed to be everywhere. My hands were shaking and tears streaming down my cheeks in large fat tears of utter pain.

“What happened?” I choked out. Nothing more came for a few seconds as if my mother was trying to control the overwhelming disaster that she knew both I and her were facing at the time.

“There was a fire,” I couldn't imagine it, not my baby sister, little Jess, little miss perfect dying in such an aggressive and vicious way.

I couldn't talk about it anymore, I needed to see her, to see what was left of her, see if she still was the young blonde college student that I left her. The smartest in the family, the daughter who was successful and went to Stanford, she was pretty, intelligent, and kind. So why had her death been so morbid?

“I love you.” That's all I could choke out to her as I ran into the hotel and grabbed my things, I threw them into Theo, tears still running down my face in frequent tracks, sobs falling from my trembling lips

 I heard the wheels screech as I whirled Theo out of the parking lot, the highball glass that I set down was crushed as I flew out of what seemed like the last place I would ever feel at peace again.

[burlybanner]

Syzygy - 2

Syzygy - An AU of Infundo (post-Infundo Chronicles).

Chapter 2: Phase I Trials

Chapter 2 Summary:  Talking through the baby steps. Together.

Link to Chapter 1

Author notes: This a ridiculously short chapter, so no  “read more” tags needed. Also my posting schedule will be Tuesdays, until I’m stuck in the story and haven’t caught up to my writing schedule.

****

Truth was they couldn't start right away, not without enough data. It took a good two months of Tony and Bruce meticulously analyzing Bruce's metabolism. After tirelessly testing his food consumption, mobility, and sleep habits - and adjusting Bed with different "supplements" Bruce could enjoy throughout the day - they pinpointed the handful theories holding some promise.

"You know," Tony said, eyes scanning the floaty blue diagram of Bruce's body. "We haven't taken one thing into account."

Bruce spread his fingers, further blowing up his body's image while concentrating on the data. He noted a few interesting nuances but his thoughts floated in and out of reality so he didn't pick up on Tony's brainstorm. "I thought you agreed with me on the finer details."

"In theory, I guess, but you didn't like my other suggestion. You know it'd help, in the long run."

Bruce nibbled his lip and cautiously turned his effigy on its axis. His belly became a mountain, high and proud, rising above all the data points. "I'm not sure it would. There's a good chance it'll aggravate the Other Guy, resulting in an unscheduled Code Green."

"True, true." Tony nodded and fiddled with another data stream. "But speed, Brucie. It's a faster way. What we have right now might work, sure. But it may take a while before we get close. Years, even. You wanna wait that long?"

Bruce grimaced and spun his figure around, unnecessarily. "You know I don't. But I've put the cart before the horse before and the results weren't pretty."

"I dunno. Green still suits you."

Bruce glowered over the schematic readings, ignoring him.

"I'm just sayin', Bruce. Think about it."

Bruce remained mum but Tony knew he'd planted the seed.

**

Although the first test week was adequate, Bruce didn't get the results he'd wanted.

"Less than a kilogram? That's it?"

"Well, we're fightin' nature, Big Guy. I can adjust the formulas of the current weight gain drinks and powders but you still need to consume it fast enough to override your body's heightened abilities."

"It's still not...bad," Steve murmured. "It's some gain, right?" But even he looked a little disappointed.

"I know, I know." Bruce ran a hand through his curls and they toppled over his scalp like loose springs. "There has to be a faster way, though."

Steve gestured at the data pulled from Jarvis. "Is there anything else we could do? I mean, it doesn't look appetizing but you could try one of those heavy duty Vitamix blenders and liquefy your solid foods."

Bruce made a face. "I'd rather not vomit, thanks." He grimaced at his boyfriends. "The problem is trying to eat beyond my point of feeling stuffed. We have to increase my caloric intake but the gains don't last when I'm not physically able to eat enough or fast enough."

Tony rocked on his heels, leveling his steeliest gaze in Bruce's direction. "You know my thoughts, Banner."

Bruce held up a stern hand. "No. I refuse. I told you before it's not safe."

Steve frowned. "What's not safe?"

Bruce briefly glanced at Tony who made a curt go ahead, tell him gesture. "It's...possibly faster."

"Guaranteed faster."

"Allegedly faster," Bruce said a little louder, in case Tony didn't hear him the first time. "I'm not risking massive property damage just to gain a pound or two."

"We could use the Green Room in the basement."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Not you too, Steve."

"Well maybe I want in on the secrets. The two of you can't keep discussing options without me, because I'm as much a part of our family as you two are."

Bruce and Tony traded uncomfortable glances. "Sorry," Bruce muttered.

"Agreed. We should've included you in the science stuff." Tony made a face at Bruce. "We might as well tell him, mind if I--?"

Bruce sighed testily. "Be my guest. You were going to, anyway."

"Right," Tony murmured, and for penance from pushing his portly bf a little too much he gave Bruce a small peck on his forehead. "It's one option that yields good results: fasting."

"Fasting?" A scowl marred Steve's features. "Isn't that the opposite of what we're trying to do?"

"Yes and no. If we do it right it'll make Bruce hungrier and he'll overeat, even beyond the levels he's eating now. Every five days we can switch up his eating routine."

"And beyond that," Bruce said, sheepishly glancing down. "I've been...working on a few experimental compounds to quicken the results. But I haven't tested my hypothesis and I'm a little unsure of the outcome.

"But fasting..." Bruce paused and sighed. He ran a chubby hand through his curls and nibbled his bottom lip. "Fasting is problematic because it potentially riles the Other Guy. I hope the compound I'm developing works because I'm hesitant to try anything that threatens my calm."

Tony rolled his eyes. "We've got this, hon'. You know we do. We have the Hulk pod in the basement, and you could even stay down there while you get hungry. Not that you'd want to. And Steve and I'll get your favorite take out, after we're done. Double portions of everything."

Bruce's eyes narrowed, and Tony swore he saw a little green. "We've never tested the containment pod. I've never had a need to, and I've never felt in danger since I've been here. I'd rather not unless there are no other options."

"Suit yourself," Tony said, shrugging. "Five years is an awfully long wait for a goal weight, though."

Bruce made another face. "Too long."

"So go for broke," Steve sighed.

"Exactly,” Tony said. “What harm could it do?"

Bruce locked eyes with Tony. "You don't want the answer to that question."

Having heard enough, Steve sauntered over to his favorite scientists. He slung an arm over both their shoulders (though his reach strained over Bruce’s wide back), and gave both a peck on the cheek. "I think the answer is staring all of us in the face," he told them, and both Tony and Bruce gave him the side-eye.

"It is?"

"You know something we don't?” Tony snarked. “Impossible."

Steve chuckled softly. "Bruce, I know It's not something you really like doing, but the Hulk is part of you. And you eat more after a Hulk-out, don't you?"

Bruce folded his arms and planted his feet, as unyielding as a marble statue of himself. "But I also use up a lot of calories. It's a zero-sum game."

Steve nudged Bruce with his chin and immediately Bruce settled into his warm arms. "Muffin. I think both you and Tony will come up with a plan that'll work, but I don't want either of you over-stressing." His gaze flickered to Tony, who finally caved, lips breaking into a small smile. "We'll figure it out. I'm thinkin' maybe we try a little of everything, yeah? Can we start out slowly, just to see what'll happen? We have time. The answer doesn't have to come today."

"Hmm," Bruce sighed. "I guess so."

"Yeah, okay," Tony grumbled. "I guess he's right."

"You're welcome." He kissed Bruce's temple and held out his other hand for Tony to take it. "Tonight, let's enjoy each other's company. A little food, and fun."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Tony said, quickly shutting down their work station.

                                                         * *

Part three: https://burlybanner.tumblr.com/post/186018435219/syzygy-3

[perpetually-jungshook]

RED || 04

Genre: humor, jimin x jungkook; taehyung x jimin; taehyung x jungkook, angst, fluff, humor

Summary: Life is weird. Jungkook works as Jimin’s niche porn photographer and finds it difficult to remember that the he’s only flirting with the camera. Namjoon despises the world of big business but works as a manager for an international corporate company and hates it (cruel irony, he says). Yoongi is just a typical IT guy who has a secret he’s never told anyone, which is totally typical. Hoseok and Seokjin work at a retirement home, from which they one day bring back some random volunteer with fiery red hair who may or may not change everything.

Warnings: language, crude humor, pining, explicit sexual content

Word Count: 11.2k

Links: Storyboard || 01 || Previous || Next

Since tomorrow is Sunday, Jimin doesn’t have to worry about his office job, which means he can stay up late relatively guilt free. Thus he disregards the need to look at a clock, gliding through the surreal after-midnight hours, passing time by scrolling through social media on his phone and idly listening to some TV show about baby animals for background noise.

He’s not sure exactly what happened between Seokjin and Namjoon after they started talking on the phone, but from what he could hear, it sounded like it had gone okay. The older boy had admitted to being irrational and apologized, saying something about “personal issues getting in the way of my judgement and stuff.” Jimin thinks they may have agreed to meet for breakfast tomorrow morning to talk things over, which is a great start. At least, it’s better than running out of a restaurant and coming home to mope about perceived rejection. But that was a few hours ago, just before both Seokjin and Hoseok went to bed.

According to Instagram, one of his high school friends is getting married; and on an unrelated note, piglets have very sensitive snouts.

Jimin can only assume he’d begun to doze at some point because eventually, he’s startled awake by the sound of the door opening. The world that comes back into focus is a bit hazy at first, foggy around the edges with sleep still tugging at his mind, coaxing him to come back with sweet whispered nothings and a gentle hand.

Illuminated by the soft blue light cast over the room by the TV is a vaguely familiar head of fiery red hair. A small smile that leaves Jimin puzzled finds its way onto his own expression.

“Hey.” Jimin’s voice is a little hoarse, deeper than normal.

Taehyung looks up, probably surprised that anyone is still awake. His reply is a whisper, likely trying to be polite to the rest of the household, “Hey. You’re still up?”

Jimin nods, blinking sleepily at his new companion.

“Yeah. Where’ve you been? Out so late,” he giggles quietly.

“I’ve been down at Kook’s. We lost track of time watching anime.”

Scooting over to give Taehyung room to sit if he wants it, Jimin curls up around a pillow, hugging it to his chest. “Sounds fun. So you guys are pretty good friends now?”

“I dunno,” Taehyung replies as he goes over to his duffle bag, fishing out some clothes. “He seems really cool. Just kind of shy.”

“Yeah Kookie’s like that.”

The conversation pauses as Taehyung exits the room, the closing door an indication that he’s probably changing and washing up. Now by himself, Jimin’s eyelids start to feel heavy again and he can only fight the wave-like pull of sleep with a well timed yawn or two. The sound of a faucet turning on momentarily underscores the words of the TV narrator, who is currently describing a sleepy litter of puppies. Gosh darn cute baby animals. They make everything better.

Jimin smiles.

The bathroom door opens and Taehyung walks back into the living room, dirty clothes in a bundle that he sets beside his bag. He’s wearing sweatpants, though any glimpse Jimin might’ve had of them being “hung low on his hips” is unfortunately obscured by a threadbare white T-shirt.

“Taehyung?”

He hums in acknowledgement before taking a seat on the other side of the well loved leather couch.

The pause between calling his name and continuing to speak is just a beat too long, causing tension to flit through the air between the two boys.

“Why do you volunteer at the retirement home?”

It sounds suspiciously casual for the pause that had come just before, but the question “have you decided if you want to fuck yet?” just seems a bit too crass for the situation.

One of Taehyung’s eyebrows rises just a bit, though Jimin is unsure if it’s from shock, curiosity, or neither of those, but it’s definitely not condescending, which is reassuring. Maybe he’s just amused.

“Well,” he starts of quietly, hesitantly. “If you’re looking for a heroic story about me having a heart of gold, I’m sorry to say I’ll disappoint you.”

“Half of my income comes from porn. I really don’t think I’m in a position to judge whatever you’re about to say,” Jimin’s voice is finally starting to return to normal, less rough, now a little amused.

Taehyung takes a deep breath before replying, “I volunteer at the retirement home because my grandma lived there before she passed. We were really close and I guess I just saw how much they needed help.”

If Jimin could stare loudly, he would.

“You realize that’s like, total heart of gold material.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Both boys share a quiet laugh, but Jimin lets his peter out into a soft, “I’m sorry to hear about your grandma though.”

“It’s okay. I miss her a lot, but she lived a good life.” In the dim light of the TV, Jimin can see Taehyung smile wistfully. There’s pain in his expression, but it’s distant, like he’s long come to terms with what happened.

Jimin’s brain is still a tad too much on the “asleep” side of the spectrum to make decent conversation, so he lets the dialogue end at that. It seems like a good conclusion, bittersweet, like much of life. A few minutes pass.

Apparently puppies open their eyes at around two weeks old.

With the subject of Taehyung’s grandmother fading, Jimin’s body is tempted to scoot over and lean his head on Taehyung’s shoulder. The thought makes him feel terribly guilty. Is he really so desperate? Even after his time with Hoseok earlier today? Sure it’s a relatively innocent gesture, but he wouldn’t be doing it to comfort Taehyung, which makes it purely selfish. So he restrains himself, his posture getting slightly stiffer.

It’s when the episode shifts from puppies to kids (the baby goat kind) that Jimin begins to wonder when Taehyung will be going to sleep so he can wallow in awkward shameful semi-silence by himself. And it’s at that point that he realizes he’s literally sitting on Taehyung’s bed.

“Oh my god I’m literally sitting on your bed,” Jimin whisper yells.

All guises of quietness are dropped as Taehyung laughs, but thankfully, his laugh is naturally quiet and deep.

“Did you just realize that?”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry,” Jimin stands up, setting down the pillow and arbitrarily fluffing it. “You’re probably exhausted.”

“I was honestly thinking you were trying to pull something,” Taehyung says, chuckling.

“Pull something?” Jimin pauses, almost tripping on the coffee table as he blindly backs away, intending on going to his room.

“Yeah, like you were trying to see if I’d mention the the possibility of us fucking.”

Jimin’s heart skips a beat, pulse catching on the lump in his throat.

“I, ah, will admit, I thought about it. But some things are more important and it’s super late and you don’t even seem to be that into me so…”

Taehyung stands and in the soft light of the TV, Jimin can see his tongue poke out, briefly wetting his lips, maybe stalling, maybe thinking, maybe neither.

He reaches over and places a warm hand on Jimin’s shoulder, then affectionately ruffles his hair.

“Well I’m glad we got to hang out, even if it was only for a little bit.”

Jimin notices that the other boy doesn’t directly respond to any of his reasons for not bringing up fucking, baited or not.

“Same here.”

Maybe he really isn’t into me, Jimin considers, accompanied by a small pinch in his chest. He gives Taehyung a small nod and walks the remaining few steps to his room, closing the door quietly.

—

Week two PT (Post Taehyung), things seem to be going pretty well. The boy with the fiery red hair is no longer as… threatening as he used to seem. Maybe threatening isn’t the right word, but from what Jungkook has heard, he’s kept his promise and hasn’t tried to fuck Jimin. This is reassuring because it means one, Taehyung (probably) wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t want to sleep with Jimin; and two, Jungkook is starting to think of him as a good friend. And good friends don’t boink each other’s crushes (or, as a recently established rule, steal each other’s already microwaved hot pockets).

It smells like coffee, which is a fairly reasonable observation namely because Jungkook is currently sitting in a coffee shop. His sensitive nose can also pick up hints of tea, but nothing like that godawful poison Taehyung had made about a week ago. Sometimes he still wonders how Seokjin survived. Anyway.

This cafe is one of those places that features a succulent covered wall that doesn’t look completely real or completely fake, leaving customers intrigued but unwilling to touch because it’s color coordinated and shaped into some artsy spirals around the unreasonably cursive cafe name. Jungkook can’t read it, but he’s pretty sure it has something to do with beans. Opposite the plants, the shades have been drawn over the of floor to ceiling windows, filtering the orange tinged evening sunlight into something soft and pleasant to match the dim illumination from the rustic, vintage glass fixtures hung above the high tables surrounded by wooden stools.

Soothing jazz music underscores the sounds of a clacking keyboard, a few conversations, and the loud buzzing of a blender.

Jungkook’s fingers wrap around the warm disposable coffee cup. It’s starting to get colder outside. Not quite winter yet, but he’s glad he can now comfortably wear a hoodie in the middle of the day and maybe not look like a depressed, overworked college student. Not that he doesn’t look like that anyway despite being neither overworked nor a college student.

He inhales deeply, but quietly, shifting around on his stool in a futile attempt to alleviate the stiffness in his lower back and lessen the ache in his butt. Jungkook was the first one to arrive, a little early as usual. And by a little he means an hour. It’s not like he was doing anything productive or interesting on a Thursday night anyway.

So why not go out, even if it means sitting by himself for a while? Distract himself from the fact that he has another shoot with Jimin tomorrow night. He compulsively takes a sip of coffee at the thought. Fuck.

“Jungkook?”

His gaze lifts from the currently upside down inspirational quote “artfully” carved into the tabletop to look for the familiar deep voice. Once again, it’s surprisingly not Namjoon’s.

“Hey,” Jungkook gives Taehyung a small yet genuine smile as he walks over, taking the opposite seat, which leaves the also (but less) unreasonably cursive inspirational quote right side up from his perspective, and the small stage behind him. “You here to see Namjoon?”

“Wait, is he… doing something special?” Taehyung asks, appearing genuinely worried and confused.

“Open mic poetry night?”

“Oh? Is that why you’re here?”

“Is that not why you’re here?”

Both boys stare at each other before sharing a giggle. Taehyung adjusts the faded blue bandana holding up his hair before replying, still amused, “I honestly don’t know what’s going on. Jimin just told me I needed to come. Low key, I was kind of scared he was asking me on a date so poetry night is like a huge relief?”

Jungkook smothers another laugh behind a sip of coffee.

“Well, dates aren’t really Jimin’s M.O. in general, so you don’t have to be afraid of that.”

“I mean, I kind of figured, but I didn’t want to just assume, yknow?”

“True.”

A few moments pass in awkward not-silence, the jazz music still playing, the people still talking, the blender buzzing loudly again.

“So are you super early or did Jimin tell you to come now?”

Taehyung glances at his watch, then replies, “I’m early. What time does the open mic start?”

“About thirty minutes.”

“Okay that’s the time he told me to be here.”

Jungkook feels a little relieved too. It seems that Jimin had just invited him as a friend, though it is a bit strange he hadn’t told Taehyung why. It’s a line of thought that Jungkook forcefully pushes away. He doesn’t have the right to question Jimin’s motives, or to be possessive in any capacity. Besides, Taehyung has proven over and over that he is not interested in Jimin’s advances. So shouldn’t Jungkook, at the very least, trust him?

“I’m gonna go grab something to drink. Save my seat?” Taehyung says with a big, boxy smile.

“No problem.”

Jungkook looks down at the table again, perfectly square and and oddly modern blend of metal and light colored wood.

Another sip of coffee compulsively passes his lips.

Before Taehyung can finish ordering, Namjoon arrives in his beanie, boots, ripped jeans, and three layers of a mismatched mix of a jacket, flannel, and T-shirt. He definitely looks like he belongs in this coffee shop, drinking some fancy hipster beverage Jungkook probably wouldn’t be able to remember or pronounce. In all seriousness though, it’s nice to see his housemate not in a suit and tie.

Namjoon works hard at a job that he hates, so seeing him be himself? It’s refreshing.

He gives Jungkook a dimpled smile and a small wave when they make eye contact, but as usual immediately goes over to secure his place in the lineup, talking to the girl standing next to the small, raised stage set up in the corner of the establishment. It is also an oddly modern blend of metal and light colored wood. Jungkook wonders if it was custom made.

“Looking good,” Jungkook laughs brightly as his older friend walks over.

Namjoon chuckles.

“Thanks. I’m a little nervous.”

“Why?”

Before Namjoon can answer, Taehyung comes back to the table, disposition cheery.

“Hello Namjoon! I hear you’ve got a performance tonight?” Taehyung says, likely not knowing he interrupted. “I hope you don’t mind— Jimin invited me.”

“Course I don’t,” Namjoon replies smoothly, only the typical, genuine easy going good nature present in his smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“What did you get to drink?” Jungkook asks politely, but gives Namjoon a “we’ll finish this later” look.

“Tea.”

“Naturally.” Jungkook laughs and nudges him with his elbow.

Taehyung gasps comically, dramatically placing his hand on his chest.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Jungkook sing-songs.

“Alright you two play nice. I’m gonna go warm up my voice. Practice a bit more,” Namjoon chuckles, ruffling Jungkook’s hair.

Jungkook scrunches his nose. RIP the twenty minutes of trying to actually care about what his hair looked like before he left. He’d parted it and used a little product and everything. But it’s Namjoon, one of his best friends, which helps Jungkook be a little more forgiving.

“If you’re trying to convince me that you don’t already have everything memorized, it’s not working,” Jungkook teases.

“Maybe not practice then,” Namjoon is still smiling, but there’s something almost nervous about his expression, which is an emotion not often seen on him during open mic nights. “Maybe just work up my courage.”

Without further explanation, he gives Taehyung an acknowledging nod and walks away from the table, toward the restroom. Weird. Why would Namjoon need to “work up his courage?” Poetry is his element, the thing he loves.

Just as he’s about to ask Taehyung for a second opinion (because Jungkook is apt to read social situations incorrectly), the other boy’s name is called from the counter. He smiles apologetically before snaking his way through the sparse crowd, leaving Jungkook alone once again with a quick, “Be right back.”

He doesn’t allow himself the illusion of peace in solitude though, and it’s a good thing he doesn’t because almost immediately:

“Jung-Jung-Kookie!”

There’s only one person who calls him that.

Jimin’s familiar face bounces above a head or two, clearly seeking out his friend. Jungkook raises his hand in a halfhearted signal. The weight of shame at the fluttering of his heart and the heating of his cheeks has become normal and Taehyung’s words echo in his mind.

Nothing feels good or healthy about it, but you can’t help it because you love them.

A ghost of a smile makes its way onto his expression as Jimin spots him, mood visibly brightening even from across the room. The coffee cup suddenly feels too hot in his hands, despite the fact that it’s been cooling for well over twenty minutes now.

“Hey Jimin,” he attempts to greet his friend warmly as the older boy weaves his way over to the table, then circles his arms around Jungkook’s neck in a painful but affectionate hug.

Jimin nuzzles into Jungkook’s hair, humming happily, saying, “I’m excited for tomorrow. I already have my costume picked out and everything. You’ll love it.”

“I always like what you wear.”

The disparity between “like” and “love” are exceedingly apparent to Jungkook, but he figures Jimin won’t notice at all. He just doesn’t feel like he can commit to using the latter word right now.

“But I’m sure you’ll find this one particularly fascinating.” Jimin wiggles his eyebrows playfully, formal diction helping a knot of uneasiness tangle in Jungkook’s stomach.

Before he can find a good response, Taehyung comes back and saves him.

“Look who else is early,” the boy with the fiery red hair laughs lightly, but seemingly genuinely. “I didn’t expect you for another twenty minutes or so.”

He takes his old seat, across from Jungkook and now Jimin, who still has his arms wrapped loosely around the younger boy’s neck.

Jungkook can hear the smile in Jimin’s voice, “My dad always used to say fifteen minutes early is on-time and on-time is late. What’d you get?”

He nods at the drink as Taehyung takes a sip.

“Tea,” Jungkook is shocked to find himself answering first, but Taehyung had told him earlier. So it’s not weird, right?

“Nice! I pegged you as a tea person.”

“Considering he tried to kill all of us with his noxious tea fumes…” Jungkook grimaces.

Taehyung sets his cup down, holding it with both hands as he laughs heartily this time, “That tea is perfectly fine! In fact, it helps get toxins out of your body.”

“It still smelled like feet. Rotten, moldy feet.”

“Stop it,” Taehyung says, humorously pushing out his lower lip. “You’ll hurt its feelings.”

The three of them giggle as Jimin drops his arms a little and hooks his chin over Jungkook’s shoulder, the height of the stool not allowing him to rest it on top of Jungkook’s head. Jimin then turns to look at him, his face so close that Jungkook can feel the older boy’s warm, minty breath on his cheek. He must have just brushed his teeth before coming here.

“How do you know what rotten moldy feet smell like anyway?”

“That’s none of your business.”

This earns him a poke to his side, which causes him to squeak, but it effectively allows for a change in subject.

“Well, it seems like the two of you are becoming fast friends,” Jimin says, sounding thoroughly amused. “And you don’t even live together.”

“Yeah Kook’s pretty cool,” Taehyung shrugs, taking another sip of tea. “We have a lot of things in common— or at least a lot of similar opinions. And this is camomile, just so you know. Not moldy feet.”

He turns his nose up with a dramatic huff, but can hardly conceal a grin. He probably isn’t trying that hard.

“Okay, camomile is acceptable.”

“Can I try?” Jimin asks brightly, his arms dropping as he backs away to move around the table and hop up onto a stool next to Taehyung, looking excited, full smile reaching his beautiful eyes, crinkled cutely, almost closed.

Jungkook mourns the loss of body heat, the feeling of Jimin pressed flush against him, chest to back. Somedays, he indulges in the fantasy that they might cuddle like that someday, Jungkook as the smaller spoon despite his larger body. Seokjin once called it an intense “need to feel taken care of,” but Jungkook thinks of it more like… if Jimin was holding him, it would mean he wants to be there, that Jungkook isn’t trapping him. Maybe it’s a mix of both reasons.

“Sure,” Taehyung hesitates, but only for a moment before handing over his disposable cup.

The blender starts up again in the background.

Jimin takes a drink and makes a face, his ridiculously long tongue pushing out from between parted lips.

“Hot,” is all he says.

Taehyung laughs, “Small sips, Jimin. That’s the trick. Oh, Kook?”

Jungkook looks up, having been staring intensely at his coffee cup, now abandoned by his hands on the table, in order to not imagine the things that ridiculously long tongue might do between his legs.

“Y-yeah?” his voice, unfortunately, cracks like he’s a prepubescent teen again. Dark times. Coconut hair, mostly black wardrobe, a little too much eye liner. Okay maybe some things haven’t changed too much. But he definitely wears it better.

“Do you wanna come with me to record my podcast on Saturday?”

It takes a moment or two to process the words.

“Sure! Yeah— I mean, yes. Absolutely,” Jungkook says, heat rising in his cheeks. “But what exactly would I be doing?”

Taehyung hums thoughtfully, “Well, just hanging out. I thought it’d be something fun we could do together. Then get doughnuts or something after.”

“Great,” Jungkook can’t help smiling. “I look forward to it.”

That random conversation comes to a smooth end as Hoseok and Yoongi enter the cafe and walk over, the former cooing when he sees Jimin still caring for his burned tongue. They go to the register to ask for some cold water and probably drinks for themselves too. Yoongi, already holding a cup of coffee from a franchise store, takes a seat next to Jungkook, having pulled over a stool from another table.

“Isn’t that like, against common etiquette? To bring in drinks from other cafes?” Jungkook asks, causing Taehyung to smother a giggle.

Yoongi’s voice, as usual, is a little on the gravely side, “This place’s coffee tastes like shit and you know that.”

“Well if you didn’t just drink it black-”

“I can drink it however the hell I want, thanks.”

To the outsider, Yoongi might seem unwarrantedly cruel or biting, but Jungkook just finds him amusing. He’s grumpy, sure, but all it takes is a simple laugh and nudge of Jungkook’s elbow to cause an angry pink to dust across his cheeks.

“Yes, black. So it can match your soul.”

“That’s an overused joke and it disgusts me.”

“Hey Kook, you’re one to talk,” Taehyung pitches in carefully, though with an easy smile. He’s clearly teasing, but has mentioned before that Yoongi terrifies him, so his hesitance is understood. He gives Jungkook a dramatic once over, smile getting wider. “I mean look at what you’re wearing.”

Jungkook naively looks down.

“Hey, at least I’m wearing grey and black. Yoongi’s wearing all black.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to look down to shoot Jungkook A Look, retorting, “I’m forced to wear button downs and slacks almost every day. Let me and my goddamn casual wardrobe live.”

“Shhhh,” Jungkook reaches over, placing his finger on Yoongi’s lips. He’s pretty sure that the older boy is fighting the intense urge to bite him. “I didn’t say it looked bad.”

He giggles and drops his hands, leaving Yoongi to mutter under his breath and indignantly sip his coffee. He figures the heat from the drink is probably what causes the red in his cheeks to deepen.

Really though, Yoongi doesn’t look bad. He hardly ever does, even on those hard days where he comes home from work half asleep and Jungkook isn’t sure whether the correct description would involve him murdering a man or having been the one murdered. Maybe it’s not a good thing that he wears exhaustion well, or maybe it’s simply a testament to how hard he actually works, despite his claim that all he does is “turn computers off and on again.”

Today Yoongi looks a little less tired though (then again it could just be the coffee). His hair is a bit disheveled, like he’d been running his fingers through it, and he’s drowning in this oversized black sweatshirt that makes him look nothing short of cute though he would definitely be The Murderer if someone said this to his face. The sleeves are so long that they’re scrunched up around his elbows and still almost cover his pale hands, which are still wrapped protectively around his foreign coffee cup. The lower hem of the sweatshirt drops almost to his knees, covering his dark jeans, which lead down to black converse. Sometimes, Jungkook wonders how it would feel to cuddle Yoongi, sit the older boy down in his lap so he can loop his arms around Yoongi’s waist and hook his chin over Yoongi’s shoulder, but Jungkook figures it would be like trying to hug a pissed off, soaking wet cat.

Now done poking fun at Yoongi, the three of them fall into a comfortable non-silence, listening to the jazz music, blender, and murmuring while scrolling through phones. A few minutes later, Hoseok and Jimin return from the counter, the former holding what he claims to be coffee (but is really hot chocolate), and the later holding a plastic cup of water. The five boys make polite conversation until the lights dim and the girl next to the stage announces that open mic poetry night is about to start.

No one mentions the fact that Seokjin isn’t here.

Namjoon is third in the lineup of five. This might make one think that it would be a fairly brief event, considering four of them are regulars, but it is a wrong assumption. The first person is up on the stage for twenty minutes, speaking in overly enunciated rhyming iambic pentameter. Jungkook internally cringes at the fact that he knows what that is, but he makes sure to clap, knowing that despite how cookie-cutter it was, the person probably worked hard to describe those trees and that lake in so, so many extended metaphors.

The second person is thankfully more on the brief end of the spectrum, clocking in at just under five minutes. What it’s about? Jungkook doesn’t know. He lost interest as soon as he saw Yoongi pull out his phone.

Yoongi isn’t usually the type to answer texts right away, so Jungkook couldn’t help being curious when he spotted the “now” time stamp on the message preview. It was Seokjin, but Jungkook had turned away the moment Yoongi unlocked his phone. If Seokjin had wanted him to see it, he would’ve texted the group chat or Jungkook directly.

Now, Namjoon walks up onto the stage amidst light applause from those patrons paying attention. It’s immediately apparent that he’s lacking the stage presence he usually carries, the confidence that allows him to stride up onto the stage without so much as a quiver of his knees. This time, despite his muscular shoulders, long legs, and broad chest, he looks… small.

Namjoon clears his throat as he gets to the microphone, then holds up a sheet of paper. Sure the other speakers consistently use notes, but Namjoon has never used them when he’s in front of an audience. It raises another red flag in Jungkook’s mind.

“I, um…”

The speakers screech with a bit of feedback, causing him to flinch away from the microphone slightly. A small crease forms between his eyebrows, reading as distress. Memories suddenly bubble to the front of Jungkook’s mind, small snippets, fragments, pieces of a puzzle he probably won’t ever see completely.

Relative quietness in the group chat. Less time with everyone spent at one apartment or the other. A morning where Namjoon left without eating breakfast and came back three hours later before locking himself in his room for the rest of that Sunday.

Namjoon’s voice sounds small too, still deep and smooth, but afraid.

“I wrote this poem just a few days ago after having a… conversation with a friend. It doesn’t have a title yet, but I’ve been thinking of calling it A Study in Gray.”

He pauses for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. Then begins.

I look at you, sitting across from me,

only a table’s width away.

If I reach out, I would be able to touch you.

Just a brush of my fingers and I could

feel the warmth that’s risen onto your cheek.

If I reach out, I’d be able to put my hand on your shoulder.

A comforting gesture to say I’m here,

you’re not alone.

If I reach out, I might be able to bridge the gap

that I unknowingly created when I told you I’m

not sure what I feel.

These were the things I was sure of:

You appeared excited when we met, nervous.

It made me excited yet nervous too.

You ordered a coffee, which you don’t usually drink

and put a little too much sugar in.

You’ve always said it upsets your stomach.

Why do I know this?

Why do I know that you prefer tea?

I don’t know what it means.

I have entered an area of gray,

where surety has faded into the unsure.

I am uncomfortable here,

which is something of which I’m entirely sure.

My life consists of blacks and whites,

not rights and wrongs but

decisions that turn people into numbers

and emotions into letters on a page.

Equating what happened to a grayscale

is damning both you and me to the world of colors,

though you are anything but gray to me.

You are bright red, passionate;

vibrant orange, excited;

deep blue, stable;

rich violet, imaginative;

and soft pink, comforting.

You are not a grayscale,

but I am— and you help give my life color.

Jungkook’s focus momentarily drifts to Jimin. His features look soft in the dim lighting of the cafe, a small, proud, yet concerned smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watches their friend speak, slowly gaining a passionate tone, but still lacking the usual confidence. Jungkook’s attention then slowly slides over one seat, now landing on Taehyung. He wears a focused expression, lips pursed, eyebrows drawn together. Jungkook can only see half of his face due to the angle, but the way the lighting plays off of his fiery red hair and tan skin is interesting. His photographer’s eye wants to capture the moment, but he can’t—

Actually, yes he can. Taehyung gave him permission.

He doesn’t have his camera, which is unfortunate, because he’d like to have this moment saved in high resolution, but his phone will work just fine. Jungkook snaps a quick few photos before he blushes and realizes that he should probably take a couple of Namjoon too. They aren’t as coordinated as he’d like them to be, but that’s the thing about candid shots. Isn’t it.

A sharp nudge to his side makes Jungkook wince and almost drop the device. He turns to look at Yoongi, who’s also holding up his phone but is recording instead. Jungkook must have gotten in the way, blocked the view or something. He mouths an apology before tuning back into the poem.

There is only a table’s width between us.

If I reach out, I’d be able to put my hand on your shoulder.

A comforting gesture to say I’m here,

you’re not alone.

If I reach out, I might be able to bridge the gap

that I unknowingly created when I told you I’m

not sure what I feel.

If I reach out… But I don’t.

Because I’m afraid.

Because I’m confused.

And by the time I realize that I

need to

reach out, it’s too late.

I find a wall between us, one of glass.

It allows me to see the color, but not touch it.

And the worst part is,

the wall that separates us…

I don’t know if I’m the one who put it there.

It’s definitely different than Namjoon’s usual ranting about capitalism, sexism, and racism. Jungkook can almost positively say the content change is what had him so nervous, and he can’t exactly blame Namjoon. It was a moment of emotional vulnerability instead of the raw passion he usually displays while writing, then reading it aloud. There was a lot of figurative language, but Jungkook definitely has more pieces to the puzzle now. Seokjin must have confessed that morning at breakfast.

Four of the five boys around the table clap enthusiastically, wanting to be supportive of their friend and probably being embarrassingly loud amidst the polite applause from the rest of the cafe. One set of hands is missing though, this much Jungkook can tell because he’s sitting right next to it.

Yoongi’s thumb hovers above his phone screen for a moment more before he hits the “stop recording” button, then pockets the device. He gets a couple claps in before the next person walks up on stage.

Namjoon practically bounces over to his friends with a bright but nervous smile. He glances at the five boys, scanning their faces. His smile falters.

“Did- did you guys like it?”

There’s still the low murmuring of quiet conversations and mixing drinks in the cafe, background noise that makes talking during the performance a few steps shy of impolite.

“Namjoon, that was great!” Hoseok answers immediately, excitedly, probably a little too loud but the sentiment is appreciated.

“I agree, it was awesome,” Jimin adds with a nod.

Yoongi hums, his voice a little pouty as he thinks aloud, “Could do with a little less repetition, but it was good.”

Coming from Yoongi, that’s definitely a compliment.

Jungkook simply reaches out and puts a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, giving it a proud, affectionate pat. Taehyung even gives a quiet comment of approval, though looks a bit shy about speaking up.

It does not go unnoticed that while Namjoon glows under the kind words of his friends, he does keep glancing toward the door. Jungkook can’t help but wonder whether he’s disappointed or relieved that Seokjin didn’t show up.

—

Jungkook hums quietly to himself as he sets up his camera, an idle distraction that does little to settle his nerves and instead makes him feel somewhat nauseous. The alternative is feeling very nauseous as he waits in anxious anticipation to see why Jimin’s costume will be “particularly fascinating.”

The ensuite bathroom door opens and Jungkook suddenly thinks there’s a high chance he might be a masochist.

The background image Jimin had requested should’ve given him a hint. It should have, but either Jungkook didn’t want to see it, or he’s just really dense. The edit Jungkook had made was of the interior of an ice castle, and the theme reflects perfectly on Jimin— in the way he’s done his makeup, in the way he’s dressed (or rather, undressed), and the way he’s carrying himself.

A delicate, thin crown sits atop his head, matt silver with a tasteful amount of (plastic) diamonds accentuating the leaf-like design in the metal (which actually might be plastic too). He’s wearing another cape, though this one is noticeably thinner and shimmery silver. Where does he keep getting these? Is there an outlet store for capes? Capes R Us? Jungkook wants to laugh at the thought, but he can only swallow thickly because this time, Jimin isn’t completely naked underneath that cape.

His eyes, made sharper by the makeup, narrow as he smirks, “You like it?”

He’s wearing a body harness, dark leather straps crisscrossing beautifully along his chest, abdomen, and thighs, all in stark contrast with his skin, the cream couch, the silver cape and crown, and the icy blue that will be in the background. It makes him look more feminine than usual, accentuating the generous curve of his hips before spiderwebbing up into a choker, sitting at the base of his neck. It leaves his chest and crotch on full display.

Jungkook has to fight the carnal urge to pull at the straps, yank Jimin forward into a searing kiss. He squeezes his hand into a fist and thinks of taxes and essays.

“I don’t think I should answer that question,” Jungkook clears his throat and goes back to setting up his camera. “But it objectively looks nice.”

“You’re seriously no fun,” Jimin pouts. “I get to see one reaction when we do these shoots and that’s yours. C’mon Kookie, I dressed up so pretty…”

Jungkook pauses, his finger poised on the power button, but he doesn’t look over. Not yet. He’d gone to the gym this morning, just to try it out again before his membership expired. He’d felt good about it, like maybe he was getting back on track.

And yet here he is, struggling to keep a blush off of his cheeks, to keep his goddamn dick in his pants. It’s frustrating, not two steps forward one step back, but like no matter how hard Jungkook tries to step, his feelings keeps restraining him bodily, not allowing a single inch of progression.

With a deep breath, his hands leave the camera and he turns to face Jimin with a small smile, crossing his arms in subconscious defensiveness, maybe hoping to spare himself the pain, “Okay, well what can I say that’ll make you happy?”

“That takes all the fun out of it.”

“Oh stop,” Jungkook laughs lightly, hating himself for feeling like a slut as he caves and walks over, placing his hands on Jimin’s shoulders and keeping his eyes above the waistline. “You look great. Objectively and subjectively. I know you worked really hard for this.”

Jimin’s lips, previously downturned in disappointment, quirk up, his expression vulnerably hopeful as he asks, “Really?”

“Are you asking me to repeat the cheesy as fuck thing I just said?”

“Maybe.”

“If you weren’t pretty much butt naked right now I would smack you.”

“Smack me… where?”

“No, I’m not going to spank you.”

Jimin giggles, wiggling his hips humorously, causing his still flaccid dick to flop around, “But Kookie…”

Jungkook scrunches his nose, “Don’t swing that thing around near me.”

“What? You don’t like it?” He giggles harder, rolling his hips enthusiastically to make his dick bounce, “But you stare at it all the time.”

The younger boy backs away a step, fighting a strange urge to laugh hysterically.

“You can’t prove anything.”

Jimin matches his step and closes the distance again, now rolling his whole body sensuously. It would be… really fucking hot if his dick wasn’t soft. This one detail makes the situation ridiculous and hilarious. Jungkook takes a few more steps back, now laughing openly. His legs bump ungracefully into the bed and he’s forced to half stumble, half crawl over it in a desperate attempt to escape with his sanity at least partially intact.

“Jungkookie! Come give me a hug!”

“Make me.”

“I’m trying!”

Smiling deviously, Jimin catches Jungkook’s ankle, dragging him back onto the bed as he tries to dive off of the other side.

“How are you so small but so strong?”

Jimin is suddenly straddling the backs of his calves and his hand comes down on Jungkook’s ass, more sound than sting through the fabric of his jeans, but he squeaks in surprise anyway, freezing as he realizes what might be touching the back of his thigh. Something brushes against him as Jimin moves again, distributing his weight strategically.

“Is this what you want, Kookie?” Jimin teases, his hands now on Jungkook’s thighs to stabilize himself, not necessarily doing anything naughty. “Is this what you imagine me doing to you when you look at my photos?”

Jungkook’s first response is a petulant whine, muffled into the blankets, followed by, “I don’t jerk off to them.”

“Oh of course you don’t,” Jimin coos, giggling again as his fingers play with the bottom hem of Jungkook’s shirt, pushing it up just high enough so that the cold tips press against the skin of his lower back. He shivers. “Then in your fantasies, do you top or bottom?”

Jungkook’s cheeks must be scarlet by now and he’s trying very hard to ignore the fact that there’s a high probability he’s got a goddamn boner.

“I…”

“C’mon Kookie, I’m curious. Tell me and I’ll get off of you.”

Jungkook lets out another whine of distress as Jimin wiggles on top of him and yeah, that’s definitely a flaccid weenie touching his thigh. In any other situation, this would be pretty great. Jimin in a pretty body harness behind him, otherwise naked, asking whether he’s a top or bottom. But in this situation? Not good. Hella not good. Like a whole metric hella, worth approximately two metric shit tons. More importantly though, why would Jimin want to know this?

He’s never shown more than a teasing, but good natured shallow interest in Jungkook’s obvious attraction to him. What changed? Or has anything changed at all? He fights down the surge of hope. Even if Jimin finally decided to reciprocate feelings, this isn’t how Jungkook would want things to happen. Are rose petals and a candle lit dinner cheesy? Yes, but that’s the kind of boy Jungkook is. So he hesitates, unsure where this is going, what Jimin is thinking.

Jungkook struggles again, trying to get free without having to answer, but it only makes things worse. Much, much worse.

Jimin’s weight shifts quickly as he pins the younger boy down beneath him, chest now flush against Jungkook’s back and oh god the flaccid weenie is now definitely touching his butt (the less he thinks about it as “Jimin’s dick,” quite a serious topic, the better).

“Just tell me pleeeease?”

At this point, anything is better than this situation, Jimin on top of him, wiggling again, material of the cape draped over both of them. It’s starting to get too warm. Jungkook’s brain and willpower are losing traction as tension builds in his body, a mixture of panic, guilty arousal, and physical discomfort. For some reason, it’s Jimin’s fingers withdrawing from under his shirt that finally causes him to snap.

“You top.”

Everything stops abruptly except for the building heat beneath the cape. Jimin is no longer moving and his giggles fade away. For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of their breathing and the faint voices of the TV on the other side of the wall in the living room.

And then Jimin asks, voice unreadably soft, quiet, “I… top?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with equal quietness and softness, though he thinks it’s due to the fear of being judged.

“Huh,” he huffs, sounding surprised above anything else. “Well that’s interesting.”

“Interesting?” Jungkook says, a little panicked as Jimin scoots off of him, lying tummy down on the bed beside him. The cape continues to cover both of their bodies, which is probably a good thing. Though with the older boy’s body heat gone, the warmth is a lot more bearable.

Jimin shrugs, the action muffled by the abundant silver cloth around his shoulders.

“Yeah. Most guys I ask want to fuck me— yknow, want to do the fucking.” His voice sounds small as he continues, “So I guess I just didn’t expect that answer.”

Jungkook wonders if Jimin prefers to top or bottom. He’s never heard the older boy explicitly express his preference, probably for the better since it would’ve had to come up in casual conversation. That doesn’t mean Jimin doesn’t have one though, and Jungkook also inevitably wonders whether he lets himself indulge in that preference, or simply allows the other person to choose. He can’t voice any of this though, of course not. It’s not his place. He loves Jimin, but— no.

He loves Jimin, and thus he shouldn’t ask. It’s too personal, might make things awkward because that’s what Jungkook does. He makes everything uncomfortable.

So naturally he goes with the safest option: humor.

“Well you’re the one who climbed on top of me and suggested it in the first place,” Jungkook laughs, but it’s breathy, a little strained.

Jimin gives him a small smile, “Okay true. I just… you didn’t seem like the type that’s all. Considering how much you work out and stuff.”

Work out, present tense. As if he hadn’t just picked it up again today. It’s weird to think that Taehyung knew more about Jungkook’s more recent habits than Jimin does.

“We’re generalizing then?” Jungkook smirks, feeling more comfortable now that he’s started to recover from his near fatal encounter with the unexpected weenie and Jimin has put a bit of physical distance between them. It also helps that they’re teasing again, meaning Jungkook feels less like he’s under a spotlight.

“No! I just… yes,” Jimin pouts, but it’s cute. “I’m sorry Kookie. I of all people should know not to assume things like that.”

“It’s alright,” Jungkook, a slave to his emotions, reaches out and pokes Jimin’s nose, not sure where else he might be able to touch without ruining makeup or hair or feeling like a pervert. “I’ll forgive you one day.”

Jungkook giggles with humorous, purposeful obnoxiousness. It causes Jimin to smile again.

“RIP Jimin,” he says, speaking in third person.

“RIP Jimin,” Jungkook agrees softly.

They lie there for a minute or two, searching each others’ expressions. Or it’s maybe just a few seconds. It’s hard to tell, but eventually, Jungkook takes a deep breath, his voice quiet as if he’s disturbing something more than relative silence, “We should probably get some work done, right?”

The older boy nods and slowly pushes himself up, the cape cascading around him gracefully in some places, hugging him sensuously in others. Jungkook can’t help but notice that his companion’s dick is half hard now, but thankfully, the younger boy no longer has his own half chub to hide. So much for that hallmark romcom scene.

The rest of the shoot is relatively uneventful, considering what happened before it started.

After months of practice, Jungkook has finally managed to perfect (mostly) the art of not (often) looking down at Jimin’s dick, which is supposed to be hard when photos are taken, as per instructions.

So yeah, he totally masturbated as Jungkook set up the lights. It took a lot of humming to pretend he didn’t hear Jimin’s hand, his shaky breathing, and soft sighs. Sometimes he wonders what Jimin thinks about when he touches himself. Certainly not Jungkook, but it’s definitely an intriguing line of thought.

Jungkook also wonders whether Jimin practices his expressions in the mirror between shoots because fuck he just radiates the perfect amount of coldness while dripping with sensuality. It’s a weird contrast, seeing Jimin in a body harness, implicative of binding, and wanting the older boy to fuck him senseless while draped over the arm of the couch.

Taxes and essays. Essays and taxes.

Thus ice prince Jimin is brought out of the imagination and into physical being, captured in photographs with sultry stares, no smiles, and the prettiest dick Jungkook has ever seen (or tried not to see because gosh darn it he still has dregs of willpower).

When Jungkook says they’re done, Jimin stretches out and gives him a small smile.

“Thanks Kookie,” he stands and with a much different demeanor than earlier, wraps the cape fully around himself as if wanting to hide his body. “I’m gonna go shower off.”

“No problem,” he says, returning the small smile. “Want me to wait for you or…?”

It’s still relatively early in the night. He figures Jimin might want to get food.

If Jungkook didn’t know better, he’d think Jimin’s cheeks dust pink, but it must be a play of the light.

“Ah, okay. If you want to. I mean you have to pack up anyway.”

Jungkook nods. They stand there awkwardly for a few seconds before Jimin jabs his thumb over his shoulder, continuing, “Alright, I’m gonna go do my thing.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before walking with quiet steps into the bathroom.

For some reason, sympathy is the first word that comes to Jungkook’s mind. He cleans up the shoot methodically, but avoids the couch. That’s Jimin’s responsibility namely because… well, ass and balls, to put it plainly. It’s just a silent agreement they’ve had since the beginning. The sound of the shower is consistent in the background.

When he finishes, Jungkook sits down on the very edge of Jimin’s bed, trying to relax. He’ll leave his equipment in here for safekeeping. Maybe he’ll suggest eating in, heat up some leftovers because honestly he’s kind of tired.

But then Jungkook perks up at the sound of a familiar voice.

It’s muffled through the wall, distorted slightly by the TV and the shower, yet Jungkook can still tell it’s Yoongi and if Yoongi is here, something exciting is about to happen. He doesn’t go out after work without good cause and he definitely doesn’t come upstairs unless invited (unlike Jimin and Hoseok, who love to pop up in the other apartment without warning).

Jungkook gets up to walk to the door because those extra couple steps will definitely with all certainty absolutely improve his hearing. Yoongi’s talking to Taehyung and it makes Jungkook happy to know he can identify both voices immediately now. What they’re saying, he has no clue but the boy with the fiery red hair laughs, which is reassuring.

His ear presses to the door.

“… something to show him.”

“No, I haven’t seen him yet. He might still be working.”

“Oh okay. Mind if I hang out here?”

“Take a seat.”

“What are we listening to?” Jimin’s whispered voice, so close to his ear, makes Jungkook startle, which causes him to jump back, accidentally elbowing Jimin in the stomach and stepping on his foot. “Kook what the fuck?”

“I’m sorry! You scared me,” Jungkook says, hands ghosting over Jimin to make sure he’s alright. “But I promise I didn’t meant to.”

The older boy is now in sweatpants and a much too large threadbare T-shirt that slips over one of his shoulders. His hair is damp, though towel dried so it doesn’t drip or stick to his forehead. It’s probably still a little tacky from product, but it’s natural again and he’s barefaced, features softer without the makeup. This is obviously a more domestic look. Jungkook prefers this over body harness ice prince Jimin.

“Really?” Jimin laughs breathily, holding his stomach and looking up at Jungkook like an injured puppy. “No, Kookie, I thought you tried to kill me on purpose.”

It takes a few seconds for the sarcasm to register, at which point Jungkook quiets the ensuing stream of apologies and scrunches his nose in a pout.

“Aw don’t be like that,” Jimin says. “I’m the one who almost died.”

Jungkook continues to pout dramatically, now leaning against the door with his nose to the wood. Jimin coos, gently trying to pry the younger boy away from the wooden barrier, hands on his shoulders.

“Kookie…”

He simply (fake) sniffles.

“C’mon you love me,” Jimin is giggling, still weakly tugging on him. “Let’s hug and make up.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

Jimin squeals quietly as Jungkook allows him to pull his larger body away from the door and envelop him in a tight hug. It’s everything Jungkook wishes he could have on a regular basis. Soft, affectionate, strong. As Jungkook turns to accommodate Jimin and wrap his arms around the older boy, he can’t help thinking that Jimin fits perfectly in his arms, chin hooking over Jungkook’s shoulder, their bodies melding together to fill the cracks.

But it’s the wrong kind of perfect. Two things that aren’t meant to fit, like a coin in a ring, baby carrots in a battery slot, or a tennis ball inside of a drainage pipe. He doesn’t know what to make of it.

—

Jimin gives Jungkook a playful squeeze, smothering giggles into the younger boy’s chest as his body naturally lets out a huff with the sudden added pressure. It’s cute. Such a big boy, but so quiet and gentle.

He won’t lie, it’s nice hugging Jungkook. He represents an area of safety to Jimin, the cause of no pain except the slow boiling guilt inside him, but that’s omnipresent  anyway. Jungkook wouldn’t hurt him, won’t let anyone else hurt him either. He’s a source of comfort and warmth, two things Jimin doesn’t often get to experience without giving something of himself away.

“So you never answered my question,” Jimin says, pulling back to look up at him without the danger of them being close enough to kiss. “What were you listening to?”

“Nothing too interesting. Yoongi’s here.”

“He is?”

“Yeah. Wanna get something to eat?”

Jimin nods and lets go, slowly taking a step back. He can still feel the ghost of the dull ache and sharp bite of the leather on his skin, especially around his groin. It’s hard to find full body harnesses for men that are pretty. So yeah, sometimes he has to resort to strangely fitting female attire, which often leaves his genitalia in uncomfortable situations. But that will all fade by tomorrow evening. For now, he’ll enjoy the feeling of a job well done.

They exit the room with polite greetings to Taehyung and Yoongi before Jimin leads the way to the kitchen where they heat up leftovers. He slides the bowls across the island countertop, placing one in front of Jungkook and the other in front of the empty seat beside him.

As Jimin is getting the spoons, Hoseok and Seokjin walk into the apartment, the former chattering on as usual about Ms. Piper, who apparently sent back her food four times today, refusing to eat until— and pardon Jimin for not listening intently— something about a rice dish.

He takes a seat next to Jungkook, handing the younger boy a spoon so they can both start eating.

In his peripherals, Jimin can see Yoongi stand up and approach Seokjin, interrupting the conversation about Ms. Piper. They speak quietly until Yoongi pulls out his phone, handing it to the older boy. Seokjin looks perplexed for a moment before nodding, then walking over to the small dining table behind Jimin, meaning he can no longer see.

He thus loses interest quickly, especially as Hoseok strides over and puts his arms around both his and Jungkook’s shoulders.

“I see you’ve finished with the shoot already huh?”

“Yeah,” Jimin confirms with a smile. “Jungkookie made it nice and easy.”

“That’s great! Our resident photographer is so talented,” Hoseok presses a loud smooch to said photographer’s cheek. “But now that you guys are free, we should totally play a game.”

“That depends on what type of game,” Jimin turns to give him a suggestive smile. “After what happened last time-”

“Okay that wasn’t my fault.”

“Namjoon still had to get stitches,” Jungkook pauses eating for a moment to add helpfully.

Hoseok pouts, backing up to cross his arms over his chest, “Well he should’ve been more careful with the Monopoly pieces.”

“So what game?” Jimin presses with a light laugh.

“How about… truth or dare?”

Jungkook huffs, “Can’t you pick anything less cliched?”

“Well if someone hadn’t pissed Jin off we could still play hide and seek.”

A memory flashes through Jimin’s mind. A park at midnight, dappled with the dim white glow of streetlights and washed in soft silver by the crescent moon. A pond, inky black with blurry edges that gently lap at the paths around it. Worn wooden benches, massive aged trees. Hoseok decked out in glow sticks; Yoongi sitting in a playground plastic tube; Jungkook helping Jimin into a tree; a splash— Namjoon and Seokjin soaking wet.

He smiles.

“Maybe we should try hide and seek again,” Jimin wiggles happily in his seat, bringing the bowl into his lap so he can continue eating as he speaks to Hoseok. “But this time no going near the pond.”

“Yeah okay good idea, but I’m not going to be It first this time,” Hoseok negotiates, hands now on his hips.

“Not It,” Jungkook declares. He finishes his last bite of food before getting up and walking over to the sink.

Jimin perks up, asking, “So you’re gonna play then?”

“I guess.”

“Don’t be so nonchalant, Kook, we all know you’re excited to squeeze into some small space with Jimin,” Hoseok teases.

“No, not doing that again,” Jungkook says over the sound of water hitting the bowl as he rinses it. “He giggles too much.”

“Guilty,” Jimin raises his fork in acknowledgement.

“And if I’m playing, I’m playing to win.”

“Perfect! I’ll go indoctrinate Yoongi and Taehyung.”

“You know we’re like right here? We can hear what you’re saying?” Yoongi says from his seat on the couch.

Hoseok shrugs, “Good, then I don’t have to explain anything.”

“Shameless,” Yoongi huffs, then looks down at his phone again.

“So we’re talking about something like manhunt?” Taehyung’s head tilts.

“What?” both Hoseok and Jimin ask.

“Manhunt it’s… hide and seek. Outside.”

They all stare at each other for a few seconds before Hoseok clears his throat, “Oh, okay yeah. Well, not It.”

Seokjin elects to stay home and there’s no response from Namjoon, so twenty minutes later, Jimin, Jungkook, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Yoongi get out of the car and hop up onto the curb, the latter covered in glow sticks almost to a comical degree, a physical manifestation of the burden that comes with being dubbed “It.”

It’s starting to get cold out at night, which leaves all of them in hoodies or sweatshirts. Jimin thinks it smells like rain, but Hoseok quickly assures him that it wasn’t in the forecast. The park is instead covered in a thick blanket of fog, weighing down heavily on Jimin’s lungs, his visibility disintegrating into a hazy white at about three or four meters. He can’t even see the playground equipment he knows is in the middle of the massive park. This is going to be an interesting game.

“Everyone’s got their phone on, right?” Hoseok asks, checking his own. “Reception okay?”

“I didn’t picture you as the safety buff,” Taehyung teases.

Hoseok snorts, obviously amused, “Well Jin isn’t here to nag us, so someone has to do it.”

As the two of them exchange playful retorts, Jimin pulls out his phone and finds, to his dismay, that he’s only got ten percent left.

“I’m gonna need a hiding buddy,” he inserts quietly, feeling a little guilty. He should’ve at least grabbed a charger or something.

“And it’s not going to be me,” Hoseok puts his hands up in mock surrender as they start walking toward a massive tree that’s marked the starting point for the four games of hide and seek they’ve played here.

Jimin turns to look at Jungkook with a pleading smile, but he just shakes his head. The older boy feels slightly hurt, but he can’t blame Jungkook. Jimin does giggle a lot.

“You can hide with me.”

The offer catches Jimin by surprise and he turns to look at Taehyung, asking with hesitant hopefulness, “Really?”

“Of course. I mean, I’m the only one left anyway,” Taehyung winks, then laughs brightly, voice deep and smooth. “I always like having a partner anyway. Makes things more fun.”

With their past, Jimin hadn’t expected him to offer, but he’s definitely grateful and won’t turn it down.

“Okay cool. Thanks.”

“Great, now that you two are done being sappy, rules?” Yoongi crosses his arms, looking like a disgruntled human incarnation of a yard that was vomited on by too much Christmas cheer, just sans the fluorescent reindeer, candy cane wielding penguins, and uncanny valley Santa Claus.

“Don’t leave the park, don’t go near the pond, and don’t shout for help unless you need it,” Hoseok states effortlessly, as if he’s thought of this extensively.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Alright Yoongi, how long?”

“Forever.”

“Fuck you, you just don’t want to look for us.”

“Caught me red handed.”

“One minute,” Hoseok supplies, then points in a grand, sweeping motion. “Face the tree.”

The oldest boy does as asked, putting his arm up and resting his face in the crook of his elbow. He sounds bored as he starts counting, “One… two… three…”

Hoseok screams and takes off running into the mist, back in the direction of the car. Jimin thinks making noise is not the best idea when you’re trying to be sneaky, but whatever floats his boat. Jungkook jogs away in the opposite direction, strangely quiet for a boy of his size, his footfalls quiet crunches on the wet grass. He might be heading toward the area of dense foliage where he tried to climb and hide in a tree last time.

Jimin turns to look at Taehyung, arching an eyebrow. The other boy shrugs, so Jimin leads the way to the playground. Their pace is quick, but not frantic, sand sticking to shoes as they make their way to the multilayered structure of painted metal and molded plastic. With the fog, it almost looks like a castle in the clouds. They take the stairs up onto the equipment, the bridge squeaking in protest under their weight, causing Jimin to laugh. Taehyung playfully shushes him before they attempt to fit into one of a few tunnels.

Jimin manages to crawl through and climbs another platform to sit in a small tower-like hut at the top of an enclosed slide. There are small slits that allow him to see out, but it’s too dark to see in at night. The perfect place to hide. Besides, if Yoongi gets close, he can just slip into the slide and make sure he’s too big to go all the way down.

Taehyung, on the other hand, decides to stay in the tunnel. He’s on his stomach, back and shoulders dipping just beneath the line of opaque plastic windows. Even if both of them can’t fit into Jimin’s spot, he’s a little disgruntled that Taehyung is so visible. What if he gives away their spot? He takes a moment to remind himself that it’s just a game.

The two boys make eye contact and Taehyung smiles, causing Jimin to unexplainably giggle again. Maybe Taehyung won’t be the one giving away their position. To prevent himself from making any more noise, Jimin turns slightly to look out onto the expanse of fog covered grass. In the distance, he can still hear Yoongi counting, but the excessive water in the air distorts the sound, making it impossible to tell what number he’s on.

When the counting stops, the world becomes eerily silent. All Jimin can hear is the shaky sound of his own forcibly quieted breathing, trapped by his plastic surroundings. Eventually, Jimin spots what looks like a diluted Christmas tree walking around, colors muffled. He has to smother another giggle.

Man, no wonder Jungkook didn’t want to hide together.

“Jimin, do you see him?” Taehyung’s whispered voice sounds like a shout in such a heavy quietness.

“Yeah. He’s not close.”

Maybe minutes pass. Maybe seconds. Taehyung takes out his phone.

“Turn it off,” Jimin whispers sharply, causing Taehyung to drop the device. It clatters loudly against the bottom of the tube, causing both boys to wince and smother surprised laughter into their hands.

The blurry Christmas tree gets closer, which silences them effectively, especially as Yoongi walks out of the mist like something out of a goddamn horror movie… if the monster was covered in a ridiculous amount of glow sticks.

Jimin stills his whole body in anticipation, which naturally means he suddenly needs to pee. Will Taehyung and his terrible hiding spot get them found? Will Jimin giggle at an inopportune time? Will Yoongi zero in on the sound of a phone clattering against—?

He almost jumps out of his skin when Yoongi pauses practically right beneath the slide tower and says, “Found you.”

The only thing that stops him from huffing out a long list of expletives is a curse that beats him to it.

“Fuck.”

“Watch your language,” Yoongi chides.

It’s Jungkook’s light laugh that follows, causing Jimin and Taehyung to exchange a surprised glance. When had he come to the playground equipment?

“What gave me away?” Jungkook asks, amusement plain in his voice.

“Don’t be stupid,” Yoongi huffs and Jimin can only watch as he crawls underneath the structure, into one of the plastic tubes. Jungkook must be sitting inside. “I’ll always find you.”

“I think that was the gayest thing I’ve heard today. And I talked to Jin earlier.”

Jungkook laughs again, a little awkward this time, but Yoongi doesn’t respond.

The younger boy continues, “Did you find anyone else yet?”

“Hobi thinks I don’t know he’s in the car.”

“Isn’t that technically cheating? Since we’re supposed to stay in the park?”

“Tell him that.”

Jimin and Taehyung are staring intensely at each other, the latter’s phone still sitting on the bottom of the tube in which he’s lying, likely not picked up in fear of it making too much noise. Jimin’s heartbeat is pounding in his pulse points, a frantic “what the actual fuck” smile on his face. This has to be like something out of a movie.

“What about Jimin and Taehyung?”

“No idea.”

“So you just made a beeline for me?”

“Yes. Now sell out your friends.”

Suddenly, there’s a confusingly excessive amount of clattering, the sound of items hitting plastic, similar to when Taehyung dropped his phone. It takes a moment for Jimin to realize that it’s all of the glow sticks.

“Hey, you can’t just-”

Jungkook cuts Yoongi off with a laugh, followed by the sound of another short scuffle, more glow sticks colliding with the plastic tube.

“Get off.”

“Make me.”

Jungkook must be on top, pinning Yoongi down. He sounds like he’s having a great time. Yoongi? Not so much. But there’s also fondness hidden in his dry command, an emotion that takes years of knowing Yoongi to find.

“You little shit.”

There’s silence for a few seconds, then the patter of light rain, fading in from a few drops and plateauing at a quiet steady staccato rhythm. It makes the next part harder to hear.

“What’re you…?” Jungkook’s question trails off, seemingly unsure.

“Oblivious brat.”

Yoongi’s voice sounds soft, yet pained. The dozens of thuds that follow precede the older boy crawling out of the tube and back into Jimin’s line of sight. His face looks pink, or maybe that’s just the excessive amount of glow sticks.

“Where are you going?” Jungkook crawls out after him.

“Back to the car.”

“Why?”

“It’s fucking raining?”

“Wait, I think we should talk about it.”

Talk about what? Jimin watches as they leave the playground area, walking on the grass again, Jungkook jogging to catch up to Yoongi’s fast pace.

“Later.”

The rest of the conversation is lost in the rain and fog. Confused, Jimin turns to look at Taehyung, who points to his lips.

“What” Jimin mouths, still clueless.

“Kiss,” is the word Taehyung silently chooses to respond with.

Before Jimin can ask for an explanation, the sound of Taehyung’s phone buzzing causes both boys to startle and Jimin hits his head on the plastic roof above him. He’ll later find out that it’s a text from Hoseok telling everyone to come back to the car because of the weather.

[Next- the link will take you to Ao3]

✩✩✩♔✩✩✩

Send me your thoughts here. Or just come say hi ;) feedback is appreciated

Support me/Donate and get some super rad 😎 rewards

Thanks for reading! Much love ~🐰 xx

[spideyschelles-blog]

Feelings For You - Chapter 1

Michelle is dating Nick and Nick and Peter have been best buds since they were kids. But what Nick doesn’t know is that Michelle and Peter are harboring secret feelings each other. How does Michelle deal with her feelings for her boyfriend of nearly two years and her hidden emotions towards his best friend? How does Peter deal with the fact that he’s in love with his best friend’s girlfriend? (POV will be switched every chapter).

Chapter 1

Michelle It’s a Friday night and I’m getting ready for Peter Parker’s annual back to school party. Peter is my boyfriend’s best friend and teammate; it’s been this way since they kicked it off at their first youth football practice when they were ten years old.

Nick and I have only been together for about two years. He was the first person I met when I was new to Midtown High School and who I kind of latched onto during the first few months of school. A few days after me being at Midtown I tried out for the cheerleading squad and my prior competition experience from my other school allowed me to become the captain of the team the following year. So, I guess you could say that Nick and I are your cliché football player and cheerleader couple.

I like Nick a lot but sometimes I feel like besides the fact that we like to put on a show for other people and enjoy making out, we don’t actually have a lot in common. And this might sound bad but when I was a freshman getting with Nick seemed like the best way to get people to know who Michelle Jones was. My phone buzzes on the charger and I rest my beauty blender on the white vanity in front of me to check who it is. It’s a text from Nick. Just picked up alcohol. Gonna drop it off at Peter’s and then come get u. Nick used to use his older brother’s old ID to get alcohol but now he goes into the liquor store on 15th street so much that they don’t even card him anymore. He’s dropping the alcohol off at Peter’s which gives me approximately ten minutes to finish getting ready so I rush the last few steps of my makeup routine which consists of me putting on concealer and an unhealthy amount of mascara. When I finish taming my curls I head downstairs to wait for Nick in the living room where my family is watching a movie. I plop down on the couch next to my 10 year old sister Ava who’s sporting a matching Moana pajama set and a messy bun. “Where are you going?” She asks without looking up from the television screen. My mom, dad and Ava have a movie marathon every Friday; this how they bond since dad lives at work on the weekdays. Mom is already passed out in the recliner seat with a glass of wine threatening to spill all over her lap and dad is so invested in the action movie that I don’t think he even notices my presence. “Party at Peter’s,” I reply, taking a handful of popcorn out of the bowl on her lap and shoving it in my mouth. She makes a face. “I like Peter. He isn’t mean like Nick.” “Nick isn’t mean,” I say while chewing. “You just like Peter because he gives you extra sprinkles when I take you to May’s.” May’s is an ice cream shop about five minutes away from my house. Peter’s aunt May and his uncle Ben joined the ice cream business when they were really young and now they have five locations in New York and a really high ranking. Ben passed away when Peter was thirteen and ever since Peter’s been picking up shifts and helping May run the place. I honestly would not expect anything less from because he genuinely likes helping people out; that’s just the type of person he is.

“Okay true. But I still don’t like Nick!” she emphasizes. My dad finally decides to join the conversation by lowering his neck and whispering in Ava’s ear loud enough so I can hear. “I don’t like him either kid.” Ava giggles and I roll my eyes. “You guys are so immature,” I make sure to emphasize every syllable in the word immature so they get the point. My dad playfully puts both palms up in defense and I try to hide my laughter. My dad isn’t too fond of Nick because he always makes up excuses so he doesn’t have to stay over for dinner and it hurts mom’s feelings. Just when I’m about to say something else I get a text from Nick saying that he’s outside. “Wellll I wouldn’t want to intrude on the ‘I hate Nick’ club or anything so I’m just gonna go,” I say, getting up and making my way to the front door. Just as I’m about to close the door I hear my dad yell. “Remember no later than two o’clock!”

“Got it Pops,” I yell back loudly. It’s a chilly fall night which is great because sometimes Peter’s parties get so packed that I have no choice but to go outside for fresh air. As I get closer to Nick’s range rover I hear rap music blasting through his speakers and see him bumping his head to the beat of whatever song is playing. I open the door and hop in, immediately putting my seat belt on before greeting him because he drives way too fast for my liking. “Hey hot stuff,” He yells over the blaring music, pulling out of the driveway and making his way to Peter’s.

“Hey,” I say smoothly. “I thought you were gonna drop the liquor off at Peter’s.” I kick the forty pack of beer at my feet and turn my head to see the rest of the alcohol lying on the back seat. “Wait sorry what are you saying?” He questions turning the music down to a decent volume. “I said. I thought you were gonna drop the stuff off before you came to get me.” He scratches the back of his neck with one hand while keeping his right on the steering wheel. “Oh uh.  Yeah well I thought it would just make more sense to get you first since Parker lives a few streets down from you.” I cock my head to the side and look at him funnily. “Yeah but I thought you didn’t like to drive around with alcohol in your car.” “Yeah well don’t make it a big deal. There are barely any cops on the road tonight.” “Okay tough guy,” I punch him in the arm playfully and laugh but I notice that he’s more tense now. “Okay I didn’t mean to spook you I was just wondering,” I say when he doesn’t laugh with me. “I know I know,” he says back but his emotions don’t change. He turns the music back up and we don’t talk for the rest of the ride. We pull up in front of Peter’s house not long after and Nick turns the ignition off. His phone buzzes in his pocket but he doesn’t make a move to look at it. “Probably Parker, let’s go,” He announces while swiftly picking the beer up from my feet and getting out. I get out and notice that I’m annoyed with Nick because of the way he’s acting. When he comes to my side of the car he pays me no attention and piles the other bags of alcohol onto the box of beer. Instead of asking if he needs help I decide to make him struggle and walk up the steps that lead up to Peter’s house. Music is already playing through the loud speakers but there’s barely anyone here because it’s still early. I say hi to the few football players that are in the living room and make my way to the kitchen knowing for a fact that Peter is still setting up in there. When I enter the room Peter’s back is turned away from the doorway and I see that he’s adding different kinds of fruit flavored juices to a cooler that I suppose is going to be the jungle juice for the party. He’s wearing a red flannel and light blue jeans and his brown hair is slicked back like how it is every day. I decide to poke him on the back to get his attention which is a bad move because he jumps and drops an entire liter of juice. “Jesus fuck,” he curses. I cover my mouth with my hands and speak through them, giggling uncontrollably. “Oh my gosh I forgot you scare easily, Parker.” “Ha ha,” he says assessing the mess that he made because of me. I look around the room and when I see the paper towels I run over to grab them and toss them in Peter’s direction; to my surprise he catches the roll with one hand. “Hey you don’t play football by any chance, do you?” I mess with him while walking back over to the actual mess. “You’ve got jokes tonight huh?” “Plenty.” He rolls his eyes playfully and gets on his knees to clean up the spill. “Well why don’t you make yourself useful and pour the rest of the juices in the mix.” I put my right hand up to my forehead to and pretend like I’m saluting him and he just shakes his head while laughing. Peter and I have always had a playful relationship which is why I enjoy being around him. Everyone likes him because he’s super funny, attractive and you don’t have to be really close friends with him to have a good conversation. If it isn’t Nick who girls want, and can’t have for obvious reasons, its Peter. “Where Dick?” He asks. Dick is a name Peter came up with for Nick when they were in eighth grade because Nick dumped his middle school girlfriend in front of all of her friends on her birthday. I open my mouth to answer and Nick comes bustling into the kitchen with the drinks. “So nice of you to help Michelle,” he sets the beverages on the ground and looks up at me in disbelief. I give him a tight, sarcastic smile with no teeth. He shakes his head before turning to Peter so they can do their man handshake. “What’s up man! Ready for the best banger of the century?!” “You bet,” he says excitedly, walking to the trash can to throw the now wet paper towels away. “Oh, and May doesn’t want your ass driving home tonight so I hope you packed a bag.” “Can I sleep in her bed,” He winks and Peter winces. “Nick why do you have to be so gross?” I question him, annoyed. I pour the last bit of juice into the cooler, moving away so Peter can mix in the alcohol. “Jesus, It was just a joke Mj!” He shoots back with his hands up. I ignore him and move to the other side of the kitchen. “Yeah Dick don’t be so gross,” Peter thumps him on the back of the head and moves away quickly so that Nick doesn’t have time to hit him back. “I’m gonna get you for that by beating your ass in pong,” he points at Peter and nods his head. “We’ll see about that. I beat you the last time.” Peter says triumphantly and I laugh at how proud This is how he always gets when he beats Nick at something. Nick gives him a dirty look before gulping down a beer and then grabbing another; in that moment I can tell that this is not going to be a sober night for him at all. *** The crowd grows larger as the night moves on. It’s now eleven o’clock and I think I overheard Peter saying there’s almost a hundred people here. I have no idea where Nick is and I’m pretty content with not knowing because I’m having a good time. I’m on the couch giggling with my best friend Liz, who’s also the co-captain of the cheer team, and we’re on our way to being more than wasted. “Is it just me or is Peter looking way too good tonight?” She questions, swaying to the beat of ‘In my feelings’ by Drake. I glance at Peter and look at his profile. He’s playing beer pong with Ned, who Nick has always been jealous of because Ned and Peter are clearly closer, and they’re high fiving after having made a perfect shot. His hair has grown a lot since last year so now he looks a lot like prince charming. My eyes move down to his arms; I tilt my head and wonder if his triceps have actually gotten bigger or if I must be really drunk. “Yeah I guess he does. You should go for him,” I say. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m so serious,” I nudge my shoulder with hers. “Like you said he looks pretty hot tonight.”

“I only said it because you were thinking it,” she raises her eyebrow and takes a gulp of her drink. At the rate she’s drinking she’s going to have the biggest hangover in the morning.

“Pfft I was not. May I remind you that I have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah but everyone knows you and Peter have like some unspoken tension,” Liz says knowingly.

“Okay one, there is no unspoken tension. Two, Peter and I are just friends so stop being weird you’re making me uncomfortable,” I sneak another look at Peter which I guess isn’t so sneaky because when I give Liz my attention again she’s smirking at me.

“Not another word from you,” I say. I see that my cup needs a refill so I use that as an excuse to get away from Liz before she starts interrogating me some more.

In the kitchen, there are a few people lingering around the island making small talk while others are raiding Peter’s pantries looking for food. I’m too drunk to tell them to have some respect for his house so I just head to the punch to get another refill.

Just as I’m finishing scooping juice into my cup I feel someone tap my shoulder lightly and I already know who it is. I turn around to see that Peter’s standing in front of me with low, drunk eyes and a smirk on his face.

“See that’s how you’re supposed to get someone’s attention. Not by scaring them half to death,” he says.

“I didn’t know me poking you would scare you like that,” I lean my back against the island casually and he takes a step towards me, grabbing my cup and taking a sip of my drink before speaking again.

“More like aggressively plunging your finger into my spine.”

“Whatever Parker. Anyways aren’t you supposed to be playing pong?” I ask him, using my neck to point in the direction of where the table is set up.

“Beating everyone was getting old. I need some real competition, where the hell is Nick?” He looks around for a minute trying to locate him but he fails.

“I have no idea but I guess I should try to find him before he does something stupid.”

He laughs. “Good point. I’ll help you look for him.”

We go outside first to make sure Nick isn’t passed out in any bushes because believe it or not, we have found him in that situation several times. When there’s no sign of him in the backyard or in the front of house we go back inside to check the upstairs area.

“He’s either passed out in my bed or puking,” Peter says and I giggle because his words are true. For a person who likes to go so hard at parties, Nick is definitely the biggest lightweight I know.

We check in Peter’s room first but it’s vacant much like the rest of upstairs. No one is allowed to come up here unless the downstairs bathroom is being occupied but other than Peter always makes it clear that upstairs is off limits.

When we can’t find Nick, we decide to take a break and sit against one of the hallway walls with our knees unintentionally touching. Peter let’s out a sigh while leaning his head back before speaking with closed eyes.

“Do you ever wonder what It’d be like if you met me first?”

I look at him with curious eyes. “What do you mean?”

Now his eyes are open and they’re looking at me intensely. “Like do you think...” he hesitates. “Do you think it could’ve been me and you instead of you and Nick?”

I don’t know what to say. Whenever Peter is intoxicated and Nick isn’t around he says things he wouldn’t normally say. This isn’t the first time he’s bringing the topic up and I don’t think it will be the last time.

“You can’t say things like that,” I whisper. Now I’m looking at him and he’s looking at me and even though there’s so much noise downstairs, it suddenly feels so quiet up here.

He lifts his hand up to caress my left cheek. “I know,” he says back. He clears his throat before dropping his hand and looking away from me and now I’m left feeling confused like how I always am when Peter is like this.

Just as I’m about to say something to break the awkward silence Nick stumbles out of Peter’s room with the red cup he’s been holding for what seems like all night. Peter and I stand up too quickly probably making ourselves look a little suspicious but Nick doesn’t realize.

“Babbyyy,” Nick slurs. He walks over to me and grabs me my the waist with one hand before giving me a forceful kiss on the lips. I don’t like it when Nick gets rough but I feel so guilty right now that I give in to it.

I pull away and hold the base of his neck. “Where were you?” I ask.

“Found myself laying in Peter’s closet, no idea how I got there,” he slurs, pulling me in for another kiss. He’s being so affectionate right now that all of the annoyed feelings I had towards him earlier in the night go away.

I forget that Peter is standing there so I pull away. “I should probably get going. Liz’s dad is picking us up and I don’t want my dad waiting up for me.”

“Noo staaayy,” Nick whines.

I ignore him and look at Peter. “Make sure he eats before he goes to bed. You know how he is when he gets a hangover.”

Peter nods but doesn’t say anything. Nick let’s go of my waist and sits where Peter and I were just minutes ago so I take this as my cue to leave to go and find Liz so I can tell her to call her dad.

***

I’m home now and laying in my bed; whenever I try to close my eyes to fall asleep I feel dizzy. Peter’s words are still haunting me and now I cannot stop thinking about how his arms would feel around my waste in this moment.

I know it’s wrong of me to think about being with Peter instead of Nick but this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about it just like it isn’t the first time Peter has, in some way, brought up us being together.

And the unsettling thing is I know it definitely won’t be the last.

[sapphicscholar]

Letter 56

March 12, 2012, 9:13am

Hey Alex,

It was great talking to you yesterday! I’m sorry about the less-than-stellar pesto experience…that was my bad. Never tell a joke that makes someone turn around when they’re using a blender, right? Good to know for the future. Hope the basil doesn’t stain your sweater. It was a nice sweater.

Bahah okay, Danvers, keep telling yourself that…whatever you need to do to feel less guilty about making your poor future dog suffer like that. Please tell me that you don’t have aspirations to be one of those old ladies… Or, okay, all of it is fine if you can manage to keep the tissues and the candies separate. I don’t get it! They’re always both in wrappers that rustle like crazy in the movie theater, so how the lint permeates the sealed wrapper, I’ll really never know.

Thanks! I don’t know exactly how that works. I do remember hearing that ASL (American Sign Language) is really different from BSL (British Sign Language), but that some countries that don’t share the same spoken language will share the same signed language (or at least large parts of it). I don’t know all the specifics, but it’s interesting to think how the barriers we construct between cultures and countries can be broken down and rebuilt in really different ways depending on the mode of communication.

I know some aliens adapt really well to languages, and there are one or two planets so renowned for their language acquisition skills that their citizens end up being translators pretty much everywhere they go. Pretty nice to have guaranteed employment, huh? But anyway, I like to hope that the biobank got consent…I don’t have much hope or trust in people (and even less in corporations), but I need to believe that someone out there is trying. Maybe at the IRB?

Ah yes, all those attack pigs. Though wild pigs are really gigantic. They definitely don’t stay so little and cute like in movies. And that’s cool (better than the people who try to breed them to stay "cute" and end up making them sick and all), but it definitely makes the “attack” part a lot more realistic (and threatening). Your mind works in fascinating ways, Danvers. Though let’s not inspire anyone with ideas about weaponized farm animals. We’ve all read Animal Farm already. We know how ruthless those fuckers can be!

It’s pretty excellent as far as experiences go. And simply amazing views. I’ve got some photos I’ll have to send to you with the next box of the kids' letters. Sorry I didn't add one last time. It seems like we get out so much in these notes, that there wasn't much new to add? And if there was, I wanted you to know it right away? But the kids continue to love their pen-pals!

Hah oh, sorry, maybe it wasn’t obvious, and I just thought it was…now it’s more awkward, and that’s on me. It’s like explaining a joke, but worse. Just…I don’t know, it’s the last two sentences: “If we do this, could you like walk me through this very slowly? And I’ll try my best to follow?” Obviously it’s about cooking; I can read context clues, thank you very much. But it’s more, ya know, you’re new to the whole dating women thing (and the other things that might come with it), and that’s fine! But it could mean you also need some help there… Whatever. Ignore me. Please. Know that you didn’t insult the cuisine, except perhaps with that overdone pasta I watched you make yesterday…don’t think I didn’t catch you getting caught up in our conversation and letting the timer beep for minutes on end while your pasta got soggy!

Eh…you’re not missing much with The L Word, but it’s still sort of a touchstone? It’s better to watch with someone so that you can chat through some of the worst parts of it and tune in for the hot ladies that you still like that season. Nah, it’s pretty common knowledge, and it’s sort of written on the wall from the start of the season when it happened in one case (and then written on the wall even more explicitly from the first moments of the season for the other death that totally doesn’t really count anyway). Interesting choice on the BBC’s Pride and Prejudice. Wouldn’t have guessed it. I actually like Austen, who is much more biting social satire than romcom, Danvers, though I’ve not seen the BBC production. Going off the book version, I can see you being a bit like Mr. Darcy…

Yeah, I had roommates throughout college because of the cost of living, then I lived with Emily, but after our breakup I was alone for a couple of months. I’ve taken that living/surviving/being alone thing to a whole new extreme over here! But it’s definitely helpful, and it was really nice for a while. It’s good that you’ve realized certain things about yourself because it means you can stop those behaviors when you see them starting again instead of letting them fester and grow. I have a tendency to assume the worst can and will happen, and often that means I try to preempt it. Because if I ruin something myself, it can’t be ruined for me, you know? Similarly, not a great coping mechanism, but it kept out the terror of bad surprises for a while.

Wow, way to make a girl blush, Alex. I was merely hoping that maybe it could be a “you and I” you read into those “we” subjects. Nice to know you think about us having some of those types of mornings too. I really hope you don’t catch anything in the library! That would be less than ideal… Do take care of yourself. Lots of liquids and warm sweaters and sleep (as much as you can manage) and all that. Do you at least have a spring break or something when you’ll be able to catch up on sleep?

Hmm interesting addendum on the power of flight. Any reason? I also think it’d be cool to be able to fly… But invisibility, now that you mention it, sounds really great. I think if you’d asked me when I was younger, it would have been invisibility I wanted for sure.

Alex…that’s barely a superpower; that’s just hurting yourself. It’s so ironic that the medical profession, which studies things like the harmful effects of sleep deprivation, forces its own into such awful habits as part of the regular job. I hope you manage to be okay and get some sleep!

Ah yeah…I can see how that particular habit wouldn’t be ideal, but I imagine it makes you pretty effective at solving problems, at least. And I can respect efficiency. I think my worst habit is probably a bit of self-sabotage every now and then. I’ve gotten better, but it’s something I have to actively combat, rather than an instinct that’s totally gone away.

Ugh, that nightly rundown while waiting for sleep to come is truly the worst thing to happen to mankind. Not really. But it sucks a lot. That’s not so bad, Danvers! It’s good that you were engaged in learning and really cared about your education, even if maybe you were just a little bit of a know-it-all…little bit. But I’d still take students like you on Monday mornings. Instead I’m greeted with total silence when I ask questions. And as a teacher? That definitely sucks the most. (Also, I’m sure you’re still doing well in grad school, even if it doesn’t fee like it. You’re brilliant, and it’s pretty hard to miss that fact.)

Alex, that’s amazing! Congratulations on getting the paper accepted first of all! And yay for funding and the ability to come to Italy! I would most definitely love to take you out on a date if you’ll have me. And it's great timing too. I have off that whole week for our spring/post-Easter break, so I’ve got plenty of time on my hands. I had actually been thinking about using it as a chance to go hike Cinque Terre before it got too hot and touristy. But I can take a quick detour to Rome. Anyway, lots to plan! I will start googling! Let me know things you like! Or it can be a surprise. Either way. Totally good. Hmm…got thoughts going. But I’ve really got to run to work, and I’m already a little late (it’s okay, I don’t have a morning class today—teacher meeting thing).

Talk to you soon! We can both think of more questions for each other or leave it for a bit and focus on brainstorming date ideas instead. Because also, it’s coming up so soon! Less than a month now! Things to do, things to do…

XO Maggie

[mybullshitsensesaretingling]

Odds Are

Request: Could you do one with Bones x reader where the reader gets hurt in battle and Bones saving her. Just a lot of fluff! Thanks!❤️ @caaptain 

A/N: There’s something about Bones that makes me wanna put him on a shuttle and have something go horribly wrong

“Are you making any progress at all?” Leonard’s irritated voice sounded from behind you.

You dropped your hand to let it hang between your bent knees, closed your eyes, and prayed for patience, before twisting at the waist to look at him with a forced smile. “Len, why don’t you go look for some fire wood. It’ll be getting dark soon.”

“Are you saying that we’ll be spending the night here?”

“I’m not saying it.” You turned back to exposed wiring of the shuttle. “The cracked exoplating and busted life support is saying it.”

You were answered with silence. After a few moments, you assumed he had left and your shoulders relaxed. Dropping your knees to the ground, so you no longer had to squat, you studied the reading on your tricorder. You had been working on patching the shuttle for hours and you weren’t much closer to getting off the ground. The only real thing to change was your mood.

“Is there any hope of fixing it?” So he hadn’t left after all.

“Depends on how much of a hopeful person you are.”

“So that’s a no.”

Getting to your feet, you turned to face him. “Leonard, we were shot out of the sky, lost oxygen, and tumbled into one of the worst crashes I have ever heard of, much less been part of, yet we survived. Whoever shot us is in all likelihood still out there and quite probably looking for us, but we have not run in to further problems yet. Odds are we will continue to make our way through this.”

“How on Earth is that evidence for good odds?” his tone rose. The two of you had been building up to a fight since you hit land and were sure everyone was alive and well.

“If you want to continue to be stubbornly pessimistic, that is your prerogative, but it would be helpful if you did it while looking for firewood.” You looked back to your tricorder.

“If we’re still under attack, it doesn’t seem safe to split up.”

“But it seems safe to keep pestering me,” you grumbled. Raising your eyeline, you saw him look at you from under a quirked brow.

“Sorry, I’m just,” you struggled momentarily to find a viable excuse, “dehydrated.”

“No need to apologize to me about irritability,” Leonard  told you. “I’ll see if I can find some water.”

“Great.” You weren’t sure if you meant to sound sincere or not. “Take him with you,” you added, gesturing at the scientist sitting in the doorway to the shuttle. He had made himself as unnoticeable as possible, trying his best to stay out of the line of fire of both of your tempers.

With a curt nod, Leonard  headed off into the forest, motioning for him to follow. The scientist glanced down at the arm he had in a sling, but inevitably decided it was safer to brave the wild than stay where he could get in your way. Turning back to the shuttle, you went back over your mental list of the damages.

A frustrated yell ripped through you as you threw your tricorder against the broken paneling. It ricocheted off and smacked you hard in the shin, causing you to let out another yell. You held your head in your hand, before moving your fingers up to comb through your hair. You were a pilot, not an engineer. Fixing totaled shuttles was just barely under your job description. You knew basic mechanics at best.

The sound of a twig snapping caught your attention. Your hand dropped and your spine straightened.

“Len?” you called nervously. When there was no reply you stiffed further. “Leonard?”

An unintelligible garble of words reached your ears. Before you had time to react an alien came into the clearing. His words grew harsher, but no more clear. Your eyes drifted down to the phaser he had a firm grip on. You raised your hands in surrender.

“Alright, let’s not do anything either of us would regret,” you said in as calm a voice as you could muster.

Slowly you moved towards the entrance to your ship. Again a long string of harsh language.

“I’m just going to get my universal translator, No need to do anything rash.” You reached for your the device and he fired into your shoulder. “Now see,” you grunted, “this is what I was talking about.”

He moved the phaser though the air, warning you not to move again. At least that what you assumed the action was meant to signify.

“I. Am. Just. Trying. To. Talk. To. You.” You motion out each word to the best of your ability.

When he didn’t show any signs of attacking, you reached for your translator again. He took a few steps forward, looking almost panicked. You sighed and pressed your palm against your shoulder. He began yelling at you once again and you rolled your eyes.

You threw your hand out in front of you. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Something pressed up against your back. Your mind desperately scrambled to work out what was happening, what you should do. You couldn’t think in full sentences. A voice in the back of your head told you to scream. That’s what people did in these situations, right? They screamed. But you didn’t. You couldn’t seem to get your mouth to follow commands. So you just stared wide-eyed at the alien in front of you. As he took another step closer to you, your body caught up even though your mind hadn’t and acted on its own. You used the hand still held in front of you to take hold of his wrist and twist the barrel of the gun away from you.

The being jerked his arm away from you, sending his elbow into your gut. You winced and released him. As he twisted back to face you, your reached for your own phaser. Your fingers didn’t get the chance to reach your harness. The attacker behind you grabbed your wrist, yanking them back. The butt of his phaser hit you across the face. You stumbled backwards. Your vision blurred for a second and it took you a moment to get your bearings back.

A shout sounded out off in the woods. It was too far away for you to fully make it out, but it was unmistakably human.

Leonard.

The thought that he could be in any kind of danger, launched you into action. You kicked your foot back as hard as you could.  The heel of your boot landed against your attacker’s shin. His grip loosened in shock enough for you to pull a hand forward. You wrapped it around the handle of your phaser, lifted it up, and, with barely enough time to aim, fired. Then you swung around. Before you got a good look at him, his fist made contact with your face. With a grunt, you returned the act, punching out at whatever your fists could reach.

After that it was all a blur. If anyone were to ask you exactly what lead to you laying on the ground between two unconscious members of an unknown species, you would have no answer for them.

You didn’t get a chance to gather yourself before you heard more footsteps. Your heart rate started to pick up again as you got to your feet. Instead of the fear and anger that you were expecting, your body filled with relief, when you saw Star Fleet uniforms not the uniforms of the hostiles.

“Len,” you sighed, limping over to him. “Are you okay? I heard a shout. Oh my god, your face.” You put a hand on his cheek. Your thumb lightly grazed the cut that now lay there.

“Am I okay?” he repeated like it was a ridiculous question. “You look like you’ve been through a blender, and you’re asking if I’m okay.”

“I’m fine,” you tried to smile reassuringly. “I may throw up or pass out and I think I may be dying, but other than that, I’m fine.”

“I’m fine too,” the scientist said walking past you to the shuttle. “In case anyone was wondering.”

You chuckled but it quickly turned into and a wince. Now that your adrenaline rush was fading your were acutely aware of just how beat up you really were and your legs threatened to give way.

“You’re not fine,” Leonard said firmly.

“Yeah, probably not,” you agreed, letting him help you to the seats in the shuttle.

Despite not having been on your feet for all that long, getting off of them was such a relief that you sank into the chair immediately. You shut your eyes, trying to prevent your expression from twisting in pain. You could hear Leonard  walking to the back of the ship. Lifting a hand, you gently pressed your fingertips to the spot where the pain in your head was stemming from.

When they came back bloody, you groaned, “I can’t believe I got pistol whipped. What is this, the Wild West?”

“Do you even know what a pistol is?” Leonard snorted coming back to kneel in front of you.

“Yeah, it’s like a phaser for cowboys,” you guessed, trying to make it sound convincing.

“More or less,” he smiled softly the way he always did when he was worried about you but didn’t want you to know. He cupped the your cheek with hand, using his thumb to wipe away the tears you hadn’t realised had started falling. “I’m going to start on your shoulder.

You made the mistake of looking down at it.

“Oh my god. That’s disgusting,” you gagged.

“It’s not that bad,” he told you. “Just look at me instead of it.”

You were pretty sure he was lying, but you didn’t saying anything, letting him remove the part of your uniform that hindered his work and clean the burn without interruption. It wasn’t until he started loosely wrapping bandages around the area that you spoke up again.

“I can’t feel it. Shouldn’t it hurt?” You asked. “I mean, I was shot. Isn’t that usually a painful experience?”

“Your nerves are probably damaged.” Looking up from his work to see the worry in your eyes, he added, “It’s very common with phaser wounds. You’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Pinky promise?” You held your pinky out and looked at him expectantly.

“Would it make you feel better, if I pretended to be a five year old and shook your pinky?” he asked finishing your dressing.

You nodded enthusiastically, but immediately regretted the action as the pain in your head worsened. Leonard moved his hand from your shoulder and hooked his pinky around yours. His eyes studied your expression and you knew he could tell how miserable you were.

“Now how ‘bout I patch up that pretty face of yours,” he suggested, already reaching for the bandages again.

“No, I like it like this.”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“It makes me look rugged, like a mountain man.” You closed your eyes in an effort to get the room to stop spinning. “Lets everyone know I’m not afraid to kick their asses.”

“Calm down, Kit Carson.” He slowly started cleaning the cut. “This won’t even scar.”

You smiled but didn't open your eyes, hoping it would keep the dizziness at bay. Leonard's hands worked steadily, his warm fingers moving across your temple.

“I’m sorry I couldn't get you to your conference,” you murmured, almost hoping that he wouldn't hear.

“Don't worry. Woulda been boring anyway.”

“Come on, you’ve been grumpy since we landed,” you said. “You wanted to go.”

“I just want to make it clear that what you did was not landing the shuttle, it was crashing it very violently with a lot of cursing.” He smoothed a bandage across the skin above your eyebrow. “And you were just as grumpy as I was.”

“I’m a sympathetic grump. When the people I care about are grumpy, I turn grumpy,” you explained.

“Uh huh,” Leonard hummed. “That’s all I can do ‘til we get back to Enterprise. Try not to move that arm.”

“How’m I supposed to fix the shuttle with one arm?” you asked, opening your eyes.

“I don’t care.”

“What do you mean you don’t care?” you practically shouted.

“What I care about is your safety.” You opened your mouth to argue but he didn’t give you the chance. “We’ll figure it out. I know how to boost the distress signal. I’m sure that scientist knows something about engineering.”

“But I’m the pilot,” you pointed out, knowing it wouldn’t even begin to change his mind. “I got us into this mess; I should get us out.”

“This isn’t your fault.” He caressed your arm soothingly. “Just take it easy. Like you said, odds are we’ll make it through this.”

“I like when you’re positive,” you smiled. “It suits you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Leonard rolled his eyes and kissed your forehead.

[livingcorner]

How To Stop Foxes Coming In Your Garden: Fox Deterrents

Foxes are a beautiful animal, they look amazing, however they are very much an unwanted garden pest. They chew, dig, poo and just generally ruin your garden, much like the dog you never wanted!

They can cause considerable damage to your garden, destroying your bins, flower beds, hose pipes, and just about anything they can get their little paws on.

You're reading: How To Stop Foxes Coming In Your Garden: Fox Deterrents

Perhaps the worst thing about foxes is that they’re territorial, which means even if you get rid of a single fox you might well have another jump straight in its place looking to take over the previous foxes “patch”, there a bit like their own individual gangs! It isn’t just a question of removing the foxes it’s also about deterring any future ones.

In this post we look at:

Understanding the fox, what do they love & hate

When are foxes most active

What smells do foxes hate?

What problems do foxes cause

General tips to deter foxes

What products can keep foxes out your garden for good

Tips on how to prevent further fox problems

What Do Foxes Love & Hate?

To understand how to get rid of foxes, you first need to understand what the foxes love and what they hate, so you can implement both. They’re quick, intelligent and survivors, so you have to be smart in trying to get rid & deter them.

A word of warning before we get going. Foxes do have quite bad eyesight, and although it isn’t within their nature, they will attack a human if they feel threatened, so try not and confront them head on if at all possible.

So without further ado, here’s their loves & hates:

Foxes Love:

Quiet areas – Shouting out your window at every fox might not quite cut it, we’ll go into this later, but there’s a product that makes a sound which can deter foxes

Darkness – Now you may have already guessed this as there often active at night, but just having a motion sensor light can help fix the fox issue

Security – Like we mentioned, they spread their scent and are territorial, so they like to ensure that the whole area is secure and safe for them… make it unsafe and unwelcoming

So, what do foxes hate?

Being surprised or startled

Light

Vibrations

The area being uncomfortable or unsafe

I mean, it’s quite straight forward, what they hate is the opposite of what they love! If you keep reading, we’ll go into depth on a general look on how to stop them coming into your garden, some tips, when they are most active, some of the problems they cause and how to prevent future fox related issues.

When Are Foxes Most Active?

You’ll find there are a few times in particular that you should be on the lookout to see if you have a fox problem, based on the amount of calls and issues here are the times that foxes are most active:

Their breeding season – which is roughly between December and February, they like the cold

When the cubs leave the parents, which is roughly Autumn

They are nocturnal, and peak hours are between dusk and dawn – They typically spend the day time resting

What Smells Do Foxes Hate?

Foxes have an extremely powerful sense of smell, if you want to deter them, this is one of the main things to use against them. There are a lot of DIY ways you can repel foxes from your garden through just smell alone, here are a few smells they hate:

Chili Peppers

Garlic

Capsaicin

Here’s a bit of a DIY method to get rid of them – try boil some garlic and chili pepper with some water, mix it together in a blender or cut it up really fine, put the mixture in a spray bottle and spray the areas of your gardens where you regularly see fox activity or droppings.

What Problems Do Foxes Cause?

If you’ve seen the first fox in your garden and are lucky enough to have escaped the encounter without any damage then you may just be doing some initial research. Well if that’s the case, you may want to know whether it’s worth the effort to deter them, or to just let the fox do it’s thing.

I can certainly assure you that you should get rid of them at the first sign. Foxes are an absolute pain! They destroy pretty much everything they can get their hands on. They dig holes, rip up your flower beds, go through your bins, chew your hose and riffle through anything else they can, they’re curious creatures.

Tips On How To Stop Foxes Coming In Your Garden

There are some general things you can do in order to stop foxes coming into your garden. These tips target some of the loves & hates we mentioned foxes have and can help deter foxes and prevent them coming back:

Read more: 10 Things You Should Know about the Garden of Eden

Make sure you keep your garden as clean as you possibly can, remove any rubbish that might be blowing around, and just generally keep it tidy – Foxes won’t come back if they have no reason too

If you have a fox issue, unfortunately they will leave faeces. Make sure you pick these up regularly, which we know isn’t the most desirable job – you have to thoroughly hose down the area as well. This is part of them leaving their scent, so use any smell repellents or the DIY smell repellent we told you about earlier in the place of the faeces

Move things around – foxes like familiarity, so make sure you move your gnomes, hose, whatever it is, just try and disturb the area

Cut the grass, trim the hedges & keep everything in check. They like shaded areas, the less of them the better

If you have noticed an area they regularly bed down and find comfortable, place a large object that they can’t move on it

Invest in some of the products that we are going to mention later!

Now you may not want to do this it’s completely up to you, it sounds bad but stay with us. Pour male urine in the areas the fox regularly spends time – it’s a deterrent believe it or not!

If you’ve followed all the tips we’ve given so far and you’re still struggling to get rid of them then there are a few products that you can invest in, which we’ll go through next!

Products To Keep Foxes Out Your Garden

Sometimes homemade DIY solutions just won’t cut it. There are a lot of products out there that you can use in order to prevent and deter foxes coming into your property, and most of them aren’t expensive.

Fox Wall Spikes These will often be enough to do the trick. Most of the time foxes come over your fence or gate so adding some spikes to the top of them can act as a great deterrent, not only for foxes but cats, birds and other animals wanting to get in via the fence.

Here are a few of the features of the wall spikes:

They come in a wide range of different length and widths, often in packs of 10 or more

They are ideal for fences, window sills or walls, as long as you get the right size of course

Most are designed for all weather conditions – with foxes being active in winter, this is important

They are humane, they don’t hurt the fox, they just irritate it to the point it won’t enter

If you get the wrong size or it doesn’t quite fit, it can usually easily be cut to do so

Easy to fit

Here are our top fox wall spike picks for you, as you can see relatively speaking their pretty cheap compared to some of the damage the fox could do:

Before committing to buying any fox wall – make sure you get the right size & read all the reviews of the product.

Fence Roller Another thing you can do to your fence, similar to that of the spikes is to install a roller at the top, so when they jump up they can’t grip onto anything and just fall straight off. A quick Google search for “Fence Rollers Anti Climb” will give you an example of what I’m talking about.

These rollers are fool proof if installed correctly, they can be a good solution if the spikes aren’t quite working, but it will be more expensive generally to buy and harder to install, so should be a secondary option.

Taller Gates & Fences You obviously have to stick within government limits, but if you’re having a real problem and they’re still getting over the fences despite putting on a fence roller and spikes then you may want to consider taller gates & fences so they can’t easily jump over them.

In the UK you’re allowed to have a fence & gate of up to 2m. A fence or gate of this size should prevent foxes getting in, that way at least.

Add Lights, Everywhere – Foxes Hate Light As we mentioned earlier in the article, foxes hate the light. It startles them and they’ll often run off if they see any sudden appearance of light. You may have already guessed at this point, but if you get a sensitive motion sensor light fitted to the exterior of your building where the foxes often walk then you can make it uncomfortable for them & deter them.

Motion sensor lights are essentially as the name suggests, they have a motion sensor built in, if it picks up any movement in it’s coverage vicinity then it will activate the light.

We’ve picked out a few products for you that should do the job, but make sure that you read the reviews. As foxes are of course smaller than humans you will need a light that is very sensitive, you also want to pick one that is bright enough to startle the fox.

Here are a few of our top motion sensor light picks:

Automatic Fox Water Repellent System It’s again trying to work on the aspect of startling the fox, making it uncomfortable. A great way of doing this is an automatic fox water repellent system, which is a fancy way of saying motion sensor sprinkler.

These sprinklers are easy to use and install, and when the fox walks by them, they’ll get a nasty surprise and hopefully run off.

Here are some of the general features of these systems:

They are used to deter unwanted visitors from your garden

It’s a harmless jet of water, you won’t hurt the fox

You can position it near flower beds or anything you want to protect

The built in sensor often detect to a range of around 10 metres and activates in just a few seconds

You can get options that work with batteries, meaning installation is easy

Here are our top motion sensor sprinkler picks:

SaleBestseller No. 1

Defenders Jet-Spray Pond & Garden Protector, Green

Motion-activated: The Jet-Spray Pond & Garden Protector contains a motion…

Adjustable coverage: Covers a radius of up to 10m (or 32 ft) in a…

Versatile use: Pond & Garden Protector can be used in different situations…

Battery-powered repellent: Requires 2 x AA alkaline batteries (not…

Humane repellent: An alternative to cage traps and other repellent devices….

UltraSonic Fox Repellent We mentioned that foxes don’t like loud noises, and there’s a solution for this too. Remember that mosquito sound they developed to try and keep kids away from street corners at night? These are essentially the same for your garden to pests.

These products each have their pros and cons, so it’s best to look through them thoroughly. We can’t detail the specific features for you because each one is quite unique in what it’s offering. However, without further ado here are out UltraSonic pest repeller choices:

Fox Smell Repellents As we’ve detailed in this post, Foxes have a strong sense of smell and there are DIY ways you can create a smell repellent, however there are also several ready made solutions to choose from.

Most of the repellents come as simple sprays or pellets, and all work in the same fashion. These can be effective but I would also group it with another one of these methods as well just to ensure it properly deters foxes.

Here are our top smell repellent choices, Scoot is probably the best known out the few:

Read more: The Best Material for Raised Garden Boxes – Weed ’em & Reap

Bestseller No. 1

Karlsten Fox Repellent Granules Natural Effective Anti Fouling and Digging Deterrent

Karlsten Anti fouling fox repellent Granules, natural Citronella…

Effective Citronella formulation , strong waterproof granules keeps…

Sprinkle surrounding areas in which you have seen the foxes over a…

One step soluton to protect surrounding areas by the strong scent of…

SATISFACTION GUARANTEED. If you believe the product does not work we can…

Bestseller No. 2

Karlsten Anti Fouling Garden Protection Fox Repellent Spray

Karlsten Anti fouling fox repellent spray natural Citronella formuation…

Effective Citronella formulation keeps foxes from leaving a mess in the…

spray surrounding areas in which you have seen the foxes. Masks…

One step soluton to protect surrounding areas by the strong scent of…

SATISFACTION GUARANTEED !!! If you believe the product does not work we…

SaleBestseller No. 3

Scoot 50g Fox Repellent Sachets (Pack of 2)

Humane deterrent

For use on lawns, trees, shrubs, seeds, bulbs and hard surfaces

Causes no harm to animals or the environment

Treats an area up to 34 sqm

Easy to apply with a watering can or sprayer

It’s worth noting as well that some of these solutions may not be great if you have pets yourself, as it can often harm cats & dogs.

Prickle Strips Prickle strips are a good solution to the problem as well, you essentially embed them in your soil or grass and it makes them uncomfortable to walk on for all small animals – make sure you wear shoes in the garden if you put these down!

Here are the features they generally have:

Safe and won’t harm animals as there plastic, just uncomfortable

Works for all kind of pests, not just foxes

Easy to wrap around poles or trees

They stop foxes digging up your garden

Easy to use

Here are our top prickle strip picks:

Bestseller No. 3

Defenders STV628 Prickle Strip Dig Stopper, Cat and Dog Repellent 28 cm x 2 m, Black

Protect garden areas from digging. Defenders Dig Stopper prevents pests…

Easy to install, position just below ground level and lightly cover with…

Weather and UV-resistant plastic pest repellent strips can be in place…

The flexible deterrent strips allow plants to grow through the plastic mesh…

Dig Stopper is a humane deterrent with no harm caused to targeted pests and…

How To Prevent Further Fox Problems

Now you’ve got rid of the foxes, but there’s every chance that they could come back. As well as some of the things we’ve mentioned previously there are a few more things you can do to try and prevent it happening again:

For the love of god, don’t feed them! This should go without saying, please don’t feed the foxes. If you feed foxes it makes their territorial area much smaller (your garden) and it also means they are more likely to dig and foul in the area, which of course you don’t want. Feeding them will mean they return constantly, they’ll try harder to get into your garden if they know it means food.

Get those bins bolted down One of the main things that foxes come into your garden for is food, and to them, food is in your bins. If your bins are unsecured and you’ve left something nice in there for them to eat then they’ll keep returning. Make sure you secure your bin storage in an area they can’t get them, like a shed.

Keep the garden clean We’ve mentioned this above, but keep your garden clean. Any rubbish will attract them. Overgrown gardens also give them more shelter, which they love, make sure you trim the hedges back and cut the grass, don’t let them be comfortable.

Source: https://livingcorner.com.au Category: Garden

source https://livingcorner.com.au/how-to-stop-foxes-coming-in-your-garden-fox-deterrents/