#dexter lawn

[karniss-bg3]

Level Up!

Today I have reached level 40. I earn experience points faster but my daily stamina bar fills much slower. I gain points in wisdom at the cost of a penalty to dexterity. I need twice as many short rests to replenish my health pool and the rate at which I tell kids to get off of my lawn has increased by ten.

All jokes aside, 2023 was one hell of a year and so far 2024 is looking promising. I am grateful to have reached another human milestone. Onward to the next biggun in ten years!

[magicshopaholic]

The Wedding (Seokjin x OC)

Summary: After deciding to keep your distance from each other, you and Seokjin meet at a wedding. Amidst tents and fairy lights, you get a reality check and Seokjin says something he's not sure he means.

Pairing: Seokjin x OC

Genre: Best friends; angst

Word count: 8.5 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, alcohol

A/N: Less action, more introspection. A ton of angst. Set a little over a month after On Call.

Tagging:  @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @kflixnet  (italics could not be tagged; drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: “shiver” by coldplay

seokjin masterlist | main masterlist

Pristine. Everything is pristine. The freshly mown grass that’s no longer damp, the thin white sheets of the tent that make it seem like it’s floating, the accents of green in the linens and place settings - everything is, as planned, perfect. The guests milling about look lovely as well; everyone is in pastels and florals with flowers and corsages, looking very light and summery.

Seokjin surveys the scenery critically, mentally ticking items off in his mind. Everything seems like it’s mostly turned out the way his brother and the bride wanted it to - except for one thing. When Seokjin spots it, making its way through the wedding lawn in a floaty dress, delicate heels and a duffel bag, all he focuses on is trying not to laugh.

Nari catches his eye from ten feet away and her face breaks out into a tentative smile. Seokjin returns it and starts walking towards her, meeting her halfway by one of the tables.

“Wow,” she says, looking around before her gaze lands back onto him. “Everything looks beautiful. Including you,” she adds playfully, tugging lightly on his collar. “Very dapper.”

“Thanks. You look…” Pretty. Beautiful. Lovely. “... nervous.”

Her smile fades slightly and she exhales. “Is it that obvious?” she asks anxiously.

“I mean, you seem a little winded,” he amends, brushing a wayward strand of hair off her shoulder. “Do you want to sit down? Maybe have some water or something? What’s with the bag?”

“Oh, that -” Nari heaves it on one of the chairs. “I had to leave straight from the hospital. Got changed on the train.” She smoothes the leaf green dress self-consciously. “I didn’t know if I’d make it in time and I didn’t want to hold everything up…”

“Don’t worry about it. You look great,” he tells her honestly. Her smile of relief makes his stomach unexpectedly flip and Seokjin winces, hoping that this won’t be the rest of the evening. “I’m glad you came, Nari.”

She nods, and the pause after it is enough to tell him she understands what he means. “Of course I did. I’ve known your family for a long time. And besides,” she adds, her voice suddenly drier, “apparently I have a job to do.”

“Ah, yes.” Seokjin claps his hands and nods, stopping a waiter passing by them and taking two mimosas. Handing one to Nari, he gestures to her dress. “Ready to be the ultimate bridesmaid of the year?” He snickers when she rolls her eyes and takes a large gulp of the drink.

“Wow, I needed that. Are you sure Hyorin couldn’t find someone else to fill in?” she whines. “I feel really out of place in a dress this fancy.”

“Nari, you look amazing. Don’t worry about -”

“It’s not just the dress. It’s the whole carrying of the flowers and the walking down the aisle…” She sighs dramatically. “I can single-handedly ruin this wedding without meaning to.”

Seokjin frowns, bewildered. “How?”

Nari gives him a look. “Uh, hello? I’m a very clumsy person,” she informs him.

“Always a great quality in a surgeon.”

She slaps his shoulder lightly, ignoring his snicker. “Not in the OR. When I’m at work, I have great dexterity, balance and fantastic hand-eye coordination,” she says icily. “But when I have to be pretty and choreographed? It’s going to be a disaster.”

“If it helps,” says Seokjin gently, “I don’t think anyone’s going to be looking at you.”

“One can only hope,” she mutters, adjusting the breezy folds of her dress again. “What if I do trip, though? I’m not used to wearing heels.”

“That’s why you feel so much taller!” he exclaims, clicking his tongue at his own stupidity. He holds her shoulder with one hand and takes a step closer to her, the top of her head brushing his forehead. A flowery scent - lilies or something - hits him suddenly and settles somewhere in his abdomen, knocking into every nerve ending on the way. 

“Come on, don’t make me feel more ridiculous than I already do,” she admonishes him, stepping back and downing the rest of her drink at once. She seems too nervous to feel awkward, and Seokjin tries to gather himself.

“Look, you’re overthinking this,” he tells her, silently handing her the rest of his drink that she takes gratefully. “It’s a few steps down the aisle, stand, cry, walk back. That’s it.”

“Cry?”

“Yeah. But, like, in a pretty way.”

“Got it. I should probably write this down,” she says wryly, as a gentle breeze blows her hair back.

“I can count you in,” he offers. “I’ll already be up there next to hyung - just watch me, step on my count. You’ll be fine.”

“How is counting going to help?”

“Counting always helps. I am an idol and I dance for a living, so I know these things now,” he says loftily, smiling when she finally, finally laughs. The faint pink spots on her cheeks are suddenly visible and she looks beautiful.

“What would I do without you to count me in?”

“I know, right?”

Nari’s phone pings then and she fishes in the side pocket of her duffel bag. “Imagine life with pockets, right?” she jokes, swiping through the screen. “Okay, Hyorin says I have to go get my hair and make-up done next to the bridal suite.” She exhales deeply. “It’s getting real.”

“Top floor of the hotel,” supplies Seokjin preemptively. “Dude, what are you so nervous for?” he asks, spotting a cousin over her shoulder and waving absently. “You’re a surgeon. You cut bodies open. How is this more stressful than that?”

“That’s different,” she tells him, now having finished the rest of Seokjin’s drink as well. “I’m not a surgeon right now; I’m a bridesmaid. I’m on the other side of the door now,” she adds.

Seokjin pauses. “What’s that now?”

“It’s just something we say at the hospital,” she mutters, waving a hand. When he frowns deeper, she sighs. “When we’re in the OR, we’re surgeons. The patient isn’t a person; it’s a human body that we need to fix. Everything is dictated by logic and science. But when we go out the OR door,” she explains, “we have to talk to the family, talk to the physio, to the lab - sometimes the pathologist. So we’re not surgeons anymore.”

“Right…”

“And then when we go out the hospital doors, we go back to our personal lives, to our families, our friends - we’re not doctors anymore. We’re people,” she finishes. 

“You’re on the other side of the door,” repeats Seokjin.

“Exactly. Everything’s different on the other side.” Nari tilts her head, apparently satisfied that he’s understood her convoluted metaphor.

“Mhm. So if someone dropped dead at this wedding, you’re not going to go over and help?”

“Trust me, Kimbap,” she says, picking the duffel bag up. “If someone’s already dead when they drop, there’s nothing I can do to help.” With that comforting thought, she pats his shoulder and starts walking past him to the hotel building. “Wait.”

“Top floor.”

“No, I know.” Nari bites her lip, looking just a bit embarrassed. “No one’s going to be looking at me, right? You promise?”

Seokjin is hit, once again, by the same urge to laugh. But he holds himself together and shakes his head, hoping to keep the collective anxiety of the wedding at a minimum. “Absolutely. I promise.”

— 

To no surprise of his, Seokjin breaks his promise the moment he gets the chance.

Maybe it’s the hair and make-up, maybe it’s the fact that once she’s made it down the aisle without incident, her face is calm and relaxed. Or maybe it’s the fact that after over a month of deliberate distance, something has finally forced both of them under the same roof with nowhere to run or hide. It’s just good to see her again.

Nari seems to be concentrating on Seongjook’s speech, smiling occasionally. She’s the tallest of the bridesmaids, standing right at the end, loose curls falling down her collarbone as she laughs politely at a joke. It’s a gimbap joke; he waits for her to catch his gaze and grins when she does.

She frowns slightly, suppressing a smile. Did you write that joke?

He shakes his head an infinitesimal amount, silently scoffing. No way. My puns aren’t that subtle.

Nari rolls her eyes and looks away, but Seokjin doesn’t. It’s so good to see her again.

“Congratulations,” he says after a while, coming up behind her at the bar. “You did it.”

Nari turns immediately and her face relaxes with relief. “All thanks to you, of course. What will you have?”

“Oh, nothing for me, thanks.”

“Really?” She frowns, taking in his appearance. “You look a little… frazzled. No, your hair is fine, Kimbap,” she adds, rolling her eyes when he immediately goes to check. “I’m talking about your expression.”

“Oh.” Seokjin’s shoulders slump slightly. “The caterer screwed up. Two extra chicken dishes in place of vegetarian ones and the dessert seems to have been switched with another order.” He shakes his head forlornly.

“Damn.” Nari is quiet for a moment. “What is it?”

He frowns. “I just told you. Not enough vegetarian orders and the -”

“No, I meant, what’s the new dessert?” she interrupts patiently.

“Oh. It’s crème brûlée.”

“I like crème brûlée.”

Seokjin scoffs. “It’s overrated.” When Nari gasps from next to him, he rolls his eyes. “Fine, I like it, too. But Hyorin doesn’t, and that’s what matters.”

“Maybe she won’t mind,” suggests Nari. “I just met her - for a bride on her wedding day, she seemed pretty laidback.” When all Seokjin does is drop his head on the bar and groan, she frowns curiously. “Were you in charge of desserts or something?”

“No, I wasn’t in charge of anything,” he replies, lifting his head up heavily. “We’ve been touring for half the year and travelling for something or the other. My own brother’s wedding and I showed up in the last two weeks,” he laments. “The least I could do was promise that I would take care of today. You know what? Maybe I will have that drink.”

Nari pats him awkwardly on the shoulder and requests two shots of soju. “Cheers, Kimbap, to what will still be a great wedding despite the dessert disaster. The dess-aster,” she adds, clinking her glass with his and grinning when he snorts.

They down a shot each; Nari’s insides feel like they might melt and she emerges from a coughing fit to see Seokjin wiping his eyes. 

“Thanks for that.” He nods. “You did good, too. You know what I remembered when I saw you standing up there in that dress?”

Something races in Nari’s chest. “Um, no. What?” she asks, pretending to be busy stirring her drink.

“You remember back in high school when we all did that play?” Seokjin begins, and she doesn’t know if she’s imagining his eyes softer than before. “Snow White?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember how you really wanted to be Snow White? You said you finally felt pretty enough to be a princess,” he adds knowingly.

“Oh, God, I really said that?” she asks, cringing slightly. “Wow, I was lame.”

“No, it was cute. You were always pretty enough to be a princess,” he says casually.

Nari’s cheeks grow warm and she hopes it’s the drink. “Anyway. You were saying?”

“Yeah, uh… so remember when you were planning to audition for the lead but then the casting got posted on the notice board anyway? And when you searched for your name, you saw you were -”

“A tree?” Nari’s jaw drops. “That’s what I remind you of today? Because I’m wearing a green dress and these - stupid - heels?”

Seokjin guffaws, although whether it’s at the memory or her reaction, Nari doesn’t know. She stares at him coldly until he finally catches his breath.

“They only gave me that silly part because I was tall,” she mutters, feeling her mood sour. She finishes the rest of her drink and gestures for another. 

“You were waving your arms in the air and everything,” he remembers fondly, pinching her cheeks affectionately.

Nari swats his hand away. “I hate you.”

“My point is, you killed that role,” he informs her, “so you should have a little more confidence in yourself.”

She squints. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Seokjin taps the bar. “I should go. Maybe if my brother gets Hyorin drunk enough, she won’t care about the desserts.”

“You’re a great best man.” Nari’s attention is diverted when the bartender places a drink in front of her. Picking it up, she frowns. “Uh, I asked for a white wine, not a… is this a Negroni?”

The bartender gestures to the end of the bar. “That gentleman over there sent you a drink.”

She peers around Seokjin while he turns around to see a young man, maybe slightly younger than them, smiling awkwardly and raising his glass.

Nari waves back, a little belatedly. “Isn’t it an open bar?” she mutters. The bartender simply shrugs and nods, a little too knowingly for her liking.

Meanwhile, Seokjin is still staring and doesn’t turn back around until she taps him on the shoulder. “It is an open bar,” he answers uselessly. “Oh, I was just - I was just trying to figure out if he’s from our side or the bride’s side. He doesn’t seem familiar. Do you know him?”

Seokjin sounds strange, but it’s lost in favour of the dread settling in Nari’s stomach. “No, I don’t. But I don’t need to.” She scans the crowd and locks eyes with exactly who she was looking for, her suspicions confirmed when the person immediately averts her eyes and turns away. “I know my mother.”

Realisation dawns on Seokjin’s face and he lets out a bark of a laugh, even though Nari herself can find nothing amusing about the situation. “Well, this was bound to happen, wasn’t it?” he exclaims wryly, sounding remarkably less worried than before.

“Why is she doing this?” Nari mutters, suppressing a groan and taking an absent sip of her drink. “She’d gotten so good over the last few months, telling me to work and get enough sleep and stuff. What - she sees one wedding dress and suddenly gets worried about my single arse?”

“Seems like it,” he chortles. “Are you going to talk to him? You should at least thank him for the drink.”

“Don’t you have some catering crisis to attend to?”

“I bet I’m looking forward to it more than you are to your crisis.”

“Fuck me.” Nari shakes her head and hops off the stool. “May as well get this over with.” Forcing a smile on her face, she hops off the stool, adjusting her dress. “Wish me luck.”

“Go snag yourself a husband, champ.”

Whacking him on the shoulder and ignoring his exaggerated gasp, she makes her way over. When she turns around to look at him one last time, he winks at her. His confident stance, his elbow resting on the bar, his jet black hair catching the light; for a moment, Nari wishes she were walking in the opposite direction.

“Nari, right?”

She stops abruptly when the sender of the drink appears before her. “Yeah, um, thanks for the drink…” She raises her eyebrows.

“Oh, Seokmin.”

Close enough.

—

Seokmin, as it turns out, is quite alright. He’s polite and nice, works as a stockbroker (Nari can almost picture Seokjin going “Score!” with a straight face) and seems good at holding his liquor. That being said, he’s not the best at holding conversation.

Fifteen minutes and a Negroni later, Nari stomps over to the tables. The music is upbeat and lively, and the sky is beginning to set.

“Mother.”

Dressed in finery and holding a cocktail with immense precision, Nari’s mother turns to her. “Oh, Nari!” she exclaims with exaggerated surprise. “How good to see you!”

“Don’t,” she warns, looking around for a chair to slouch in. “Who is -”

“Oh, this is Jaehyun,” she interrupts, her gaze shifting to someone behind Nari. On cue, a deep voice sounds in her ear, making her jump.

“Hi,” he says, towering over her. 

“Um -” An uncommon occurrence for Nari, feeling this short, she digresses. “How - who -”

“Jaehyun. Our mothers know each other from pottery class,” he explains.

“Our -” Nari looks around, murderous, but her mother has disappeared. She turns to Jaehyun, who looks like he’s just walked off a runway, with his hair achieving a wet look hers could never, and his shirt unbuttoned to somewhere near his diaphragm. 

He frowns. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” she says automatically. “I’m sorry - how can I help you?”

It’s her Hail Mary question; most men her mother sends her way are easily startled by it and stutter an excuse. But not Jaehyun, apparently.

“I was hoping to buy you a drink,” he answers smoothly.

She stares. “Isn’t it an open bar?” she asks for the second time today.

He chuckles. “True. Maybe I can bring you a free one now and actually buy you one tomorrow? Or whenever you’re free,” he adds, smiling good-naturedly.

Nari nods absently, for he’s so, so very tall. “Let’s start with the free one now, I think,” she suggests. “And we’ll see how it goes.”

Jaehyun is less boring than Seokmin, she decides. He works as a manager in Conde Nast and his stories about his work are fun. He seems incredibly impressed with Nari’s career as a doctor and lightly touches her hand when she brings up how much death she sees at work. His segue out of the conversation is commendable as well, and she gives him the spiel about being on the other side of the door. 

“That’s so healthy,” he remarks, and Nari warms up to him slightly. The breeze makes his hair blow elegantly and she sips the wine he got her, observing it. “Great evening, huh?” He fishes around in his pocket and retrieves something. “Would you care for a - oh. I’m guessing you don’t smoke?”

Nari squints. “I don’t,” she says after a moment. “Did my story about the pneumothorax patient give it away?”

Jaehyun laughs weakly. “Do you… do you mind if I…?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Ten minutes later, Nari is back inside the tent, having abandoned Jaehyun to smoke peacefully with a few others to whom he’d lent a lighter. The secondhand smoke is bad enough, but Nari has simply had it with the impromptu blind dates. She grabs a champagne flute from a passing waiter and guzzles it down rapidly, her gaze darting around for her mother.

By the time she does spot her mother, it’s to see her talking to yet another young man. The alarm bells go off in her head immediately and she spins around on the spot, ready to be anywhere but here.

Seokjin, she thinks, and stumbles over to the bar to get a better view of the tent. Her phone is still in her duffel bag in the make-up suite next to the bridal one, the unfortunate reality of a dress with no pockets, so she looks around while trying to stay out of her mother’s sight and finally hears his worried exclamations before she even sees him.

Nari finds him behind the stage. “Kimbap!” she cries, realising a moment later that she’s interrupted a heated conversation. “Oh - sorry. I’ll just be -” She points vaguely and steps away, but Seokjin frowns and follows her anyway.

“Just get him on the phone for me,” he instructs the man he was speaking to, before turning to Nari. “Nari? What - are you drunk?”

“Not really.” She sighs and leans against a pole wrapped in satin. “Can we talk?”

“Uh, now’s not a good time,” he says uneasily, checking his phone. “Too much is going wrong at the same time. The car’s broken down and apparently one of the cheques hasn’t cleared -” He breaks off. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” she answers at once. “My mother is driving me crazy.”

Seokjin frowns and checks his phone. “Alright, I have, like… five minutes,” he says almost apologetically.

“That works.” Before he can change his mind, she steers him outside near the entrance. “Need some fresh air like you wouldn’t believe,” she informs him, running a hand through her hair. When the cool breeze hits her face, she’s suddenly aware of how hot her skin is.

“What’s wrong?”

She turns. “What?”

He raises his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?” he asks urgently. “You said you needed to talk?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s just my mom,” she says dismissively, rolling her eyes. “Setting me up with guys like she’s finding them on a conveyor belt. And they’re all the fucking same,” she adds scathingly, “with their jobs and their can I buy you a drinks and their smoking.” She shudders. “Fucking nightmare.”

Seokjin is quiet for a moment. “What’s wrong with them?”

Nari frowns, not sure she’s heard him correctly. “What do you mean? Were you not listening?”

“No, I was. You said they were talking about their jobs and offering to buy you drinks.” He slips his hands into his pockets, his face unmoving. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I mean, they -” Nari breaks off, wondering if she’s too drunk to understand him. “What do you mean? They’re going along with it, aren’t they? With their moms setting them up and shit?”

“So are you,” he replies calmly.

“Not by choice,” she shoots back.

“Maybe it wasn’t their choice either.”

Something’s wrong. Nari suddenly feels as though she’s speaking over a chasm in between them. “Well… then they didn’t have to do it, did they?”

“Maybe they did,” he reasons, voice still calm but an odd stillness in his eyes. “And in their defense, they aren’t whining to their friends about it.”

Nari feels like she’s just been slapped. “Excuse me?”

Seokjin shrugs, hands still in his pockets. “Am I wrong? Or is there something else you’re not telling me? Because all I ever hear you complain about is that you’re going to be alone forever because your whole life is at the hospital, but when you actually get a chance to change that? You don’t even try - and for some reason, I have to listen to you bitch about it.”

“What - what are you talking about?” She can hear her voice shake now, but whether it’s the inebriation or the cold or the shock of Seokjin speaking to her with such disdain, she can’t tell. “I don’t always complain about it - and I’m not - I’m not asking you to -”

“God, Nari, this is my brother’s wedding,” he interrupts, sounding frustrated now. “I’m dealing with arrangements gone wrong and arguing with the hotel manager - and you dragged me away from that to whine about how too many men are chasing after you? Are you serious right now?”

“How is that -”

But Seokjin interrupts her again, his irritated expression throwing Nari for a loop. He looks like a stranger.

“I can’t do it anymore, Nari, okay? If you want to actually be with someone - like, truly be with someone - you have to actually get off your arse and do something about it, alright? All these guys actually seem okay. And if they aren’t, then tell your mom to stop. I mean, I don’t know what it is you’re looking for or if even you know what that is, but I’m - I’m getting a little sick of it. It’s exhausting having to deal with your problems all the time.” He shakes his head. “I have so much else to deal with tonight, Nari. I really don’t have time for this.”

The lump in her throat seems to have appeared out of nowhere and it takes her by surprise, so she says nothing when he sighs, when he pinches the bridge of his nose like he wants to say something else, and when he apparently thinks better of it and brushes past her to go inside. 

Nari doesn’t move, however, the shame and guilt and bewilderment welling up inside her at the thought of Seokjin being this annoyed with her. It takes a lot for Seokjin to lash out; she knows because it’s never happened before, not with her. 

She wonders if everything he’s said is true and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. How long has he been feeling this way? A year? Longer than that? Suddenly, she cringes at every memory of calling or texting him in their adulthood, squatting in his house, eating his food and sleeping in his bed, all the while unknowing if he really wanted her to be there or not.

What about everything else? A small voice brings forth what she hopes hasn’t played a part in this sudden twist of events. But, no. Seokjin wouldn’t lie about that. He wouldn’t touch her under false pretences, she tells herself. They were adults and their slips in judgement probably had less to do with this and more to do with the fact that… she doesn’t know. Lowered inhibitions? Stress? She doesn’t want her mind to go beyond that.

Nari swallows a dry sob and immediately shakes her head, wiping a stray tear of shock that seems to have escaped, and slowly turns to walk back inside but stops. Seokjin will be in there, and she’s not sure she’s ready to face him right now. She sits on the low ledge and drops her head into her hands, wondering where she went wrong. 

His face haunts her, cold and sickened. I’m getting sick of it. She slips off her heels and sighs softly when her soles touch the cool grass. She’s not used to walking in these; the last time she’d worn them to an event this formal, she’d taken them off and walked back barefoot. Alongside her, Seokjin had taken off his shoes as well, claiming he didn’t like being the only one wearing shoes.

It’s like being the only person drinking, he’d said.

“Fuck,” she whispers, her stomach churning painfully.

“Sorry,” says a voice behind her.

Startled, Nari turns around, her heart in her mouth. For a wild moment, she imagines Seokjin is back. But it’s not him, not even close. “Oh,” she utters, unable to hide her disappointment. “Wait, I know you. Summer camp?”

“Close,” he says, moving closer to her but not sitting down. “Our families were on a group vacation once. We played football together.”

“Right.” She remembers now, vaguely. “You can sit,” she says after a moment, noting how he’s awkwardly hovering. He, thankfully, does not seem to have a drink with him. “Did, uh… did my mother send you?”

He looks vaguely confused. “Send me… where?”

Unlikely, but technically possible. “It’s nothing. I’m Nari, by the way.”

“Jinho.”

The silence is loud and awkward, and Nari makes no move to change it. 

“So… do you still play football?”

“No,” she answers. “I’m a doctor.”

“Wow. Impressive. You were a good player, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You and your friend - Seokjin, I think? He was the best man today.”

Nope, I’m out. Something feels close to snapping inside Nari and it takes all her strength not to take it out on a complete stranger. 

“I’m - I’m really sorry,” she stutters, hating how her voice trembles, “but I really have to go inside. I need to - I need to find my mom.”

“Oh, okay. No worries. Do you want me to -”

But Nari is already halfway inside, hopping from one foot to another to slip her heels back on before gathering the floaty material of her dress and entering the tented area. She spots the person she’s looking for instantly - and this time, they’re both alone.

“Nari, you look… pale,” says her mother, vague concern spreading across her face. A moment later, she procures a plate of sushi and places it in front of her. “Eat.”

“I’m fine, mother,” mutters Nari listlessly, dropping into the chair beside her. Despite her protests, she picks up a piece and pops it into her mouth.

Her mother’s face brightens considerably. “Are you having a good time?”

Nari gives her a look. “How could I not, when you pass me around from guy to guy like we’re window shopping at a mall?”

“Nari!” Her mother admonishes her. “How uncouth. And besides, they’re all very nice young men.”

“Really? The first one told me that while he thought being a doctor was valuable, he still preferred his partners to have less demanding jobs so there isn’t any unnecessary competition at home. It’s like he was interviewing me,” she adds in disgust.

“Oh.” Her mother grimaces. “Well. That one’s a bad apple then. What about the others?”

“Mom, what does it matter? Why can’t we have one social event where we just act normal?” she asks, shoving another piece of sushi into her mouth.

“We are normal. I just know you don’t have the time, honey,” she explains calmly, brushing back her daughter’s hair. “I don’t want you to wake up alone one morning and have regrets.”

“I won’t,” says Nari, more firmly than she’d intended. “God, I was so happy that you’d stopped this. I thought you’d finally come around to the fact that my life is worthwhile just the way it is.”

“Of course I think your life is worthwhile,” says her mother, now sounding a bit offended. “And I stopped because…” She trails off, looking slightly uncomfortable now.

“Because what?”

“Well…” She sighs and tilts her head. “I thought you were seeing someone. And I was so happy for you, honey.”

That catches Nari off-guard. “Why would you think that? Did you hear it from Seokjin’s mom or something? Because she’s probably mistaken if she thinks -”

“No, no, she didn’t tell me anything,” interrupts her mother. “I thought you were seeing Seokjin.”

There’s a moment of extremely confused silence. 

“You - you thought I was dating Seokjin?” In light of everything that’s just happened, it seems like a horribly cruel joke. “God, mom… there’s no way that…” She swallows, replaying his harsh words in her head again. “There’s just no way,” she mutters, shaking her head.

“I - are you sure?”

Nari’s head snaps up. “What? Am I sure I wasn’t dating him? Yeah, pretty sure, mom. Why would you even think that?”

“Well, because you were always talking about him,” replies her mother, now sounding more like her usual self. “And you would tell me how he picked you up or how you were at his house and he was making you dinner. He helped get your car fixed,” she reminds her.

“Yeah, but… mom, that’s because we’re friends,” says Nari weakly, her heart sinking, for another part of Seokjin’s outburst has suddenly come to mind - I don’t know what it is you’re looking for - but she can’t bring herself to deconstruct it right now. “There’s nothing else there. Believe me.”

Her mother says nothing more, and Nari wonders if she’s picked up on her tone. It’s pointless, she thinks, because there’s nothing like being paraded around by your mother for dates, combined with an unforeseen reality check from your best friend, to bring forth an ill-timed realisation - and answer to his question.

“I’m sorry, honey.” Her mother’s apology, equally unexpected, brings Nari out of her thoughts. All of a sudden, she feels guilty.

“No, mom. You - it’s not your fault.” Her gaze falls to her lap. “You were just trying to help.”

“Yeah… but I didn’t realise those men would make you this unhappy.”

“It’s not them, mom,” she confesses, hating it when Seokjin is right. “They’re all fine. Not perfect, but okay. They’re just not…” Here, she trails off - not because she doesn’t know the word, but because it’s right there on the tip of her tongue. The answer is so easy but even the mention of it is enough to make her start crying and if she starts crying in front of her mother, there’s no stopping it.

They don’t speak about it anymore the rest of the night. Nari sits with her mother through the toasts and the dances, too nauseous to eat but not wanting to sit empty-handed, so she keeps a steady supply of champagne coming to her table. The entire time, she simply hopes she doesn’t run into Seokjin again, for while she has no idea if his problems have been solved, it’s not something she wants to risk right now.

She needn’t worry, however; Seokjin is bustling around at the family table for the most part, and on the face of it, the wedding seems to have made it through perfectly. Hyorin looks tired but still radiant, while her husband just looks as though he’s accomplished something incredible. Seokjin… she tries not to look at him as he poses with the family for pictures, looking more handsome than ever. He doesn’t even seem to remember their incident; he laughs and converses easily with the people around him, and not once does he look in Nari’s direction.

When the night finally comes to an end, Nari follows her mother with haste. The bride, the groom and their families stand near the exit, seeing their guests off. Seokjin is there, too, naturally, and he greets her mother and father, who had been with his friends for most of the wedding. Nari says goodbye to everyone but hangs back here, not knowing what she might say if she’s face-to-face with him - or worse, what he might say.

There’s a moment, a fraction of a second before they’re about to leave, when she catches his eye. His smile fades slightly and Nari feels an invisible force pushing her to talk to him. This is Seokjin, says a voice, slurring a bit. Nothing is so bad that you can’t talk to Seokjin.

But the next moment, his face from earlier swims back into view and her face burns with humiliation. She averts her gaze instantly and shuffles behind her parents as they leave the wedding, trying to ignore the sickening feeling that she’s forgetting something.

The feeling doesn’t go away, not when she reaches her parents’ house, not when she drags herself to the kitchen to hydrate before she passes out, not when she falls into bed with her leafy green bridesmaid’s dress still on, drunk and alone.

—

The next morning, Nari wakes with a jerk, her head pounding and the immediate continuation of the feeling that she’s definitely forgetting something. 

She forgot to change; that much is apparent when she stumbles into her bathroom to see her dress still on, hair still partially pinned but dishevelled. Even her make-up is still on, smudged and messy. Groaning, she begins wiping it off, hoping this horrid feeling will go away before she has to take the train back to Seoul today.

Her parents aren’t in their room, but morning walks are part of their routine. Nari makes her way slowly down the stairs when the first wave of nausea hits and she hurries to the guest bathroom, only to throw up what feels like a week’s worth of champagne. The doctor in her knows she needs to eat, but there’s nothing that seems less appealing than that at the moment. At the moment, water and fresh air is about all she can stomach right now.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, she peers out the window and sighs in relief to see a cloudy sky. Still in the stupid dress from last night, Nari opens the front door and warily takes in a breath of cool air, only to come face-to-face with Seokjin.

For a moment she thinks she might be hallucinating and hopes she won’t hurl right here on her parents’ front porch. Seokjin looks far better than her; his skin glows and hair is as thick and lush as ever, a frown on his forehead as he stops at the bottom of the steps. Behind him, his Range Rover stands parked on the street.

“Whoa, are you okay?” The concern in his voice is the same as Before, but it feels so much harder to hear. “You look… are you hungover?”

Nari doesn’t open her mouth, too afraid she might throw up again. She nods jerkily and gulps another mouthful of water, her gaze falling to the ground. She doesn’t want to think about what a mess she looks like; her chest is already beginning to hurt again.

As though he can tell, Seokjin’s expression fades slowly from confusion to guilt. “Nari -” He swallows and climbs another couple of steps, still keeping his distance. “I tried to call you. Last night, I did. But I can understand that you didn’t - you didn’t want to talk. And I don’t blame you,” he adds hastily. “I was - I was such a jerk and I’m really -”

“Wait, what did you say?” Her voice is hoarse, but something he’s said has just made sense. It’s right there, just out of reach.

“Um… I was a jerk?”

“Before that.”

“I know you probably didn’t want to talk to me and I know -”

“No,” she interrupts, frowning deeply. She replays his words in her head, trying to concentrate through the hangover as much as she can, before it clicks and she gasps. “Oh, my God. I forgot my phone!”

“You - “

“Holy shit!” The feeling of forgetting something has now been replaced with full-blown panic. “My - my phone! It’s still in my duffel bag, at the hotel! And my - and my wallet and all my IDs and - oh, God, my pager!” Her heart starts racing now and she barely feels Seokjin’s hand wrap around her own and gently steer the water bottle towards her mouth.

“Calm down,” he says, but she can barely hear him. Clumsily taking another sip of water, she shakes her head.

“All my stuff is in there,” she says anxiously, and she finally meets his gaze. “I have to get it back. I - I have a train in a few hours.”

“We’ll get it,” he assures her calmly. “Come on, I’ll drive you.” Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he’s halfway down the porch before his words can be processed. When she doesn’t move, he stops and turns. “What’s wrong?”

Nari bites her lip, for this - this - is exactly the issue. It’s exhausting having to deal with your problems all the time. She gives him a small shake of her head. “I’ll call a cab. You - you don’t have to drive me.”

Seokjin holds her gaze for a moment. “Yeah, I kind of do.” The heaviness in his voice makes it clear that he’s not referring to her current predicament. “Come on, you don’t have your phone. How are you going to call a cab?”

The mention of the landline dies in her throat. She hadn’t realised it before, but it feels equally exhausting going to him with all her problems. Or maybe it feels that way now that she knows how he feels. The guilt is transparent on his face and in his words, but the shame is still raw in her and she takes a step back.

He doesn’t miss it. “Nari, you’ll miss your train.”

After a moment, she nods. “Let me, um…” She awkwardly fingers the folds of her dress. “I need to change…”

“I’ll wait.”

Not wanting to prolong this any more, she nods silently and goes back inside, hurriedly changing into the first thing she finds. Even Seokjin can’t help but raise his eyebrows at her outfit.

“Shut up,” she mutters, climbing into the shotgun seat. “I don’t have a lot of clothes here.”

“Still. It’s a pretty fancy hotel for a Hello Kitty t-shirt and sweats.”

“I’ll be out of there before anyone can even see me,” she tells him as the car starts, trying to ignore how hideous she probably looks in comparison to him. “I just need my stuff. I’m waiting for an update on a patient…” She sighs and runs a hand over her face, feeling disgusting. “God, I need a shower.”

“Are you going back to the hospital today? After you reach?” he asks.

“Yeah, I think so. I’ll take the night shift, probably,” she says, hoping the hangover will have subsided by then.

“Make sure you -” Seokjin starts to say but then breaks off, glancing at her briefly before looking back out at the road. They don’t say anything else until they pull up at the hotel and head inside. The gardens look remarkably different from last night, with none of the floaty tents and pretty lights. They pass by the spot where they’d had their spat last night, neither of them acknowledging it, until they reach the lobby.

“I’ll check the lost and found,” he tells her, but she goes with him. The concierge tells her to go up to the concerned suite where the bag still is, apparently.

“One of our staff here will escort you,” she says, gesturing to a tall bellboy with a key card in his hand.

“Great, thank you. And… thanks,” she says to Seokjin. Before he can do more than nod, she turns and follows the bellboys to the suite, where she dives for the bag when it’s handed to her.

“Please check that all your belongings are intact,” he advises her, before stepping out of the room and shutting the door.

Nari nods and begins unpacking right there, emptying her bag on the freshly made bed. Everything seems to be in one piece; there’s nothing on her pager and no update on her patient. Sighing, she unlocks her phone for any other notifications, only to see four missed calls from Seokjin and several messages.

Her thumb hovers over the screen, suddenly anxious. This is Seokjin, says the voice again, annoyingly persistent. She clicks on the messages, only to see apology after apology, words that normally would have needed nothing more than an I’m sorry, too, but don’t be an arse again, Kimbap.

Just then, the door opens and Seokjin walks in.

“The bellboy let me in,” he says, slowing down when he sees her stuff. “I’m guessing you have everything?”

“Yeah.” Nari nods, hearing the automatic change in her tone now that she’s read all the texts he’d sent last night. Despite the reality check, she’s glad that he at least seemed to have been as troubled about fighting as she was. “Thanks again.”

He waves a hand before taking a hesitant step towards her and eventually sitting next to her on the bed. He smells of fresh soap and laundry detergent. “Look, Nari, I’m -”

“Seokjin -”

“- really sorry about last night,” he continues. “I didn’t mean any of that, okay? I was just frustrated with everything going wrong and having to run behind a bunch of people to fix it when all I really wanted was to chill and drink and have fun with you. Like at Hyuna’s wedding.”

Nari says nothing. Hyuna, their older neighbour, had gotten married five years ago and both of them had had to squeeze out a precious few hours from their schedules to make it. It was completely worth it, though, meeting all their friends after years but ending the night with each other, carrying their shoes in their hands and drinking until dawn on the swing set in Seokjin’s parents’ front yard. Everything had been much less complicated back then, she thinks.

“I guess I took all of that out on you and that was not okay. I was…” Seokjin exhales, “... way out of line with what I said to you. “I’m so sorry, Nari. I felt so terrible last night, you have no idea. I thought about saying goodbye when you were leaving but you left so fast and I was so ashamed…” He trails off, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. “When you didn’t respond to my messages, I really thought I’d messed up for good. I’m sorry, Nari,” he repeats, gently bumping her shoulder. “Forgive me?”

Her heart skips a beat at the contact. Sounds about right. All his texts were a variation of this, each one sounding more genuine than the next. They’re also very Seokjin, all sounding as though he’s been up all night, ruminating on his unfortunate slip of tongue.

“Seokjin, it’s okay. You were right, about everything,” she murmurs, feeling embarrassed all over again. “The moment I leave the hospital I become this super needy person and I - I guess you’re the only person I don’t feel self-conscious being that needy around.”

“When you’re on the other side of the door?” he asks after a moment.

Nari cracks a smile after what feels like ages. “Exactly. You remembered.”

“Of course I did. And… that’s not true,” he says, just like she knew he would. “You’re my best friend; of course you can be needy with me. It’s kind of cute sometimes.”

But she shakes her head at that. “Maybe it was cute when we were younger,” she says, standing up and starting to re-pack her things, “but now that I’m almost thirty, it’s… it’s kind of sad.” Part of her hopes he’ll refute her again, but he simply sighs. 

“You were right, Seokjin,” she repeats after a minute. “About - about the other stuff, too. It sounds like a nightmare but I’m - I’m going to do the whole… taking risks thing,” she says unconvincingly. “I can’t keep bitching about it for the rest of my life. Because at this rate, it’ll be me at forty-five, still alone, with turtles for pets and complaining to you over email while you’re trying to live your life with your wife and kids.” She shakes her head in disgust.

Seokjin squints. “Gets really busy in that head, huh?”

Nari gives him a look but says nothing more, zipping her bag but leaving one outfit out. “I’m going to change,” she informs him.

“Now?”

“Yeah, I’m not going to reach Seoul wearing this atrocity.” Shutting the bathroom door behind her, she strips and begins changing, her limbs suddenly feeling heavier than before. Her stomach rumbles and she realises she can’t remember the last time she ate anything, save for those two pieces of sushi last night.

“Hey, Nari?” Seokjin’s voice is clear and soothing from the other side of the door.

“Yeah?”

He pauses. “You know you can still call, right? Even if I’m living my life with my kids or whatever?”

Nari smiles, feeling a bit endeared. “Gotcha.”

“Good.”

As she pulls on her clothes, there’s something else, another viable option that suddenly becomes visible.

Well, that’s a lie. It’s not sudden. It’s sudden in the context of the last twenty-four hours, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s something that’s occurred to her more than once. But there’s no way she can bring it up, for once she does and it’s out there in the universe, the chances of it ending well are far too risky.

This is Seokjin, says the voice again. If she can’t say this to him, who will she ever be able to say this to?

“Seokjin?”

“Yeah?”

It’s now or never.

“Um… in the spirit of not wanting to die alone and taking risks and all that,” she begins slowly, pressing her back to the door and trying to regulate her heartbeat, “I thought I should ask.”

“Yeah?”

She has no idea what his face looks like and it feels like the biggest blind spot in the world. Her hands feel clammy and she wishes she hadn’t started this thread of conversation at all.

“Nari?”

“Yeah, um…” She shakes her head. She has to know, or it’s going to eat her alive. “Do - do you maybe have feelings… for me?”

The silence on the other side of the door is stifling.

“Seokjin?” She realises now that this is the longest she’s probably ever gone without calling him Kimbap.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he says immediately. “I… Nari, are you asking me if I have feelings for you?”

The confusion in his voice makes her cringe. “Um… yeah. Given recent events, I thought it was a valid possibility.”

He’s quiet for a moment. A muffled sound makes it clear that he’s probably leaning against the door as well. “Nari… I’m not supposed to have feelings for you.”

Something jolts in her stomach. “That’s not an answer.”

“Even - even if I did… it would be… complicated,” he says after a moment. “I shouldn’t have feelings for you,” he repeats.

“But if you did?” she asks, her heart in her throat now. “Hypothetically?”

“If I did…” The pause that follows is heartbreakingly long. “... I wouldn’t do anything about it. We’re not supposed to have feelings for each other,” he says yet again, his voice cracking on the last word.

It’s done, then. The leap was taken and apart from the crushing sensation in her chest, Nari has survived. She resists the urge to scream into her t-shirt; if she’d just kept her mouth shut, this door would never have been opened. It was bad enough that she was the needy friend whose messes he needed to keep cleaning up - why would he ever want to convert that into anything more?

She needs to go back to Seoul, back to her life, back to a city big enough that she can avoid him without much effort. Taking a deep breath and picturing her Chief of Surgery’s stoic and unrelenting face in front of her, she slows her heart down as much as she can before turning around and opening the door.

“God, I hope I don’t miss the train,” she chirps, hurrying over to her bag and hastily repacking her old clothes. “We still get Ubers here, right?”

“I can drive you -”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” she says, forcing a brief smile as she fumbles with the Uber app and strides out of the room. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

“No…” His tone hasn’t quite caught up to hers yet and she hopes he’ll hurry up before she breaks in front of him. “I have to go pick up some stuff for my brother anyway and the station’s on the way. Let me drop you.”

Nari swallows before turning to him and nodding wordlessly, calculating the number of minutes she’ll have to continue being in his presence as the elevator reaches the lobby.

“Car’s out front,” he says, just as they pass the hotel coffee shop. “Have you eaten anything today? You should probably -”

“I’m good. I’ll pick something up at the station. Don’t want to be late.”

Seokjin falls silent but nods, and they wait in silence as the valet brings the car in front of the hotel. Nari hurries to the shotgun seat without a word, already fumbling in the side pocket of her bag for her charger. Outside, Seokjin is speaking to the valet while she plugs in her phone. As she deposits the adapter back into the bag, she catches a flash of something else that makes her blood run cold.

The drivers’ door opens almost a minute later. “Okay, I know you said you didn’t want breakfast,” says Seokjin, sliding into the seat and turning on the car, as Nari hastily shoves the box of tampons in the bag and zips it up, “but you can’t go completely hungry.” He drops a chocolate covered protein bar on her lap. “In case your train is early or whatever.”

Or it's late. Nari can’t bring herself to fight him right now so she nods mutely and takes the snack, even though eating feels like the last thing she wants to do. As the car starts moving and the radio softly comes alive, she steals a glance at him, her heart hammering.

This is Seokjin, the voice says again. For the first time ever, it doesn’t help.

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

[glorified-red]

Nowhere to Go [Part II]

summary: Your home life was rocky at best, but this time, you had somewhere to go. You just have a hard time convincing yourself its okay, Damian isn't apposed to proving it to you himself.

word count: 3,020~

warnings: reference of abuse, very small reference to an alcohol bottle, none of the injuries are self inflicted, but terrible self esteem, rough home life, bruising/reference to being choked, cuts on a thigh from glass

So I didn't expect this to be a series? I'd like to write a formal apology to Tim Drake for my writers block with him and my insatiable interest in Damian's character.

Whoops

You were trying. 

You really were. But the world had a bitter sense of humor, a laugh that rang in your ears like a taunt. It cooed at you, with its sickeningly sweet voice, saying nothing but words of malice. 

How could you honestly think things could get better? 

You tried mending things at home. You covered each crack in the foundation with bandaids; you hammered in new nails that flew off the walls with each yell; you even tried replacing the doors that fell from its hinges the moment your resolve shattered. 

Yet, the windows to your home were fragmented, tiny fractures that broke off from each other to create a lightning strike of pain. 

You only hoped someone would finally see through the cracks in your eyes, because maybe then, you’ll find safety. 

So when his hand reached out to you, your entire world shifted on its axis, tilting enough for some light to squeeze through. That night was the first of many you’d come to cherish. It didn’t pass in a blur, your body didn’t buzz with numbness, and it certainly wasn't on edge. 

He had single handedly shown you a new path. Mending a broken home was nothing compared to the home you had found with him. He opened the doors and guided you through with nothing but patience. 

You remembered the stern look on his face when he said goodbye. You remembered every single word he spoke into the night. 

Now, as you limped through the darkness of Gotham, those words were the only thing you were clinging to. Each edge of your body ached. Bruises lined the surface of your skin, blossoming into hues of purple and angry red. The bruises eased into throbs of pain but nothing more, your leg however, with the deep cuts spiraling down your thigh, it sharply stung with each step you made. 

The pain wasn't foreign. Nor was the yelling or the exhausting pleas that left your lips, the broken glass cracking against your skin. The fear and adrenaline kept you going, but you could feel it fading the closer you got to where you were heading. 

Rain wasn't helping either. The last time you were out this late in the rain, you barely felt the cold bite to each tiny bullet of water. But now every single pellet was assaulting your raw skin. 

You blinked through the rain, a salty mess infecting your vision and making the metal gates in front of you blurry. 

Wayne Manor. 

It was prestigious, a looming mansion filled with mystery. You never imagined you’d be invited here, let alone be hobbling to the front door uninvited. You fumbled for the key you were given all those weeks ago, forced into your hold so you couldn’t even think about returning it. 

You sucked in a breath as you unlocked the door beside the gate, a personable entrance for those without a car or for those without a code. Anxiety festered in your stomach, but the words returned to the forefront of your brain until all hesitation eased. 

“You can no longer say you have nowhere else to go. For anything, big or small, you come here—to me.”

Your fingers twisted on the key, the frost in your nerves making it hard to move with such dexterity. With a long creak, the metal door pushed open. After so long of limping through the streets of Gotham in the pouring rain, the front lawn of a fancy mansion never felt so inviting. 

Your legs seemed to catch the notion that their mission was completed: they got you to the manor, what else could you want? You bite down on your lip, forcing your way through the sharp pain in your upper thigh so you could make it across the extensive garden displayed alongside the driveway. 

The moment you made it to the door you couldn't help but gasp for air, completely winded from the effort it took to make it here. Under the awning of the doorway, you were shielded from the rain, a small mercy you welcomed with open arms. 

Your fingers fumbled for the doorbell, knocking on the door in tandem in hopes that someone would hear you. Catching your breath, you leaned against the doorframe, trying your best to ease the weight off your injured leg and onto the other. 

You barely had a moment to second guess your anxieties before the door opened swiftly. You quickly straightened back up only to wince when you felt your thigh constrict with pain. 

Within a moment, greetings were pushed aside as Alfred took in the bruises on your face and the blood dripping down your leg.

“Y/n?—Oh great heavens,” he opened the door wider. “Come in, let's get you out of the rain.” He ushered you inside, offering his arm out to you for balance as you stumbled through the doorway.

“I’m so sorry,” you began, immediately noticing the droplets of water pooling on the tile under you, turning a pinkish hue as it mixed with the blood. “I didn’t know where else to go.” 

“None of that now.” Alfred guided you through the foyer and into the dinning hall. “You know you are always welcome here, not just for emergencies.” 

You let out a nervous laugh, seeing the crinkle of Alfred’s smile always eased your worry. He sat you down on one of the dining room chairs, steering clear of your injured leg so he didn’t bump into it accidentally.

“Thank you,” you spoke softly, shifting uncomfortably when the wet clothes stuck to your back. “And I’m sorry about the mess, I can help you clean it.” 

“Nonsense.” Alfred shuffled through the nearby powder room until he found the spare first aid kit. One thing about vigilante families is there is always a first aid kit hidden somewhere. He continued, “I will worry about the mess when you are taken care of.” 

You deflated, anxiety bubbling in your stomach once more. “I…I really appreciate it, Alfred,” you settled with gratitude, finding no use in arguing with one of the most stubborn of the family. As he stepped out of the room he offered a dry towel out to you, knowing all too well how cold you must be. You graciously accepted the towel and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“Of course, dear.” Alfred placed the kit at the edge of the table closest to you, he idly shuffled through the contents as he spoke. “Would you feel more comfortable with Damian here? I can grab him for you, I know you two are close friends.” 

You watched as he pulled out gauze and an assortment of bandages. You felt your anxiety flutter away with such a simple name being mentioned. “Is he here?” 

“I believe so.” 

“Could you…?” You almost felt bad for a moment, but Alfred simply smiled. 

“I’d be happy to.” He handed you a sheet of gauze big enough to cover the cuts on your thigh. “Apply pressure to that leg of yours, I’d like the bleeding to slow down just a bit.” 

When you laid it across the side of your leg, you could feel the approval from the man in front of you. “I’ll be just a moment.” 

You muttered out a last minute ‘thank you’ as you readjusted the towel into one hand while still covering your arms. The cotton fabric was lush and soft, smelling of fresh lavender laundry detergent. 

Such an insignificant thing was so familiar to you. It was the same smell of the extra blanket you used while sleeping over the last time, the smell of Damian’s cape, and his spare jacket. You sunk further into the comfort of the towel. 

Forever passed by as you waited in the quiet manor, your breaths echoing off the walls, off the wood of the table, and back into your brain. The sound seemed so loud in the silence of the halls. A breath and an exhale, the nervous shake of a leg and a sniffle, every movement passed the time by until you could hear a set of light footsteps coming down the steps outside the room you were in. 

You turned to look behind you to the source of the noise. Your eyes met emerald ones from across the room. Damian’s hair was tousled, soaked by rain and drying in disorder. 

It was nighttime. 

He had been on patrol. 

That thought alone made your chest sink in place, a ghost hand clutching your lungs until you couldn't breathe from the guilt. 

“I came as soon as I heard,” he walked towards you swiftly, wasting no time in crossing the room and pulling up a chair in front of you. Every motion of his was calculated, allowing him enough time to assess your injuries while seemingly doing a simple task. His eyes ran across the bruise on your cheek to the one on your jaw, the ring of bruises lining your neck all the way down to your leg. 

His hair was damp, the beads of water not even having a chance to infect his sweatshirt. You blinked as he settled down to face you, your lips moved without your brain. “You told me to come here if something like this happened again.” 

You stated the obvious, but the air was tense as he gauged your injuries. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the anger past his irises, even the furrow in his brow—it all made you wish you could disappear. 

Damian turned towards the kit. “For once you listen to me.” 

The sides of your mouth tugged upwards. “You didn’t really leave much room for debate.” 

“Good,” he said as he grabbed a few packets of alcohol wipes. His hands made their way to the gauze you were holding. His fingers gently lifted it off your skin, prying it off gently as the torn skin clung to the fabric. You lifted your eyes away as the pain spiked again, this time hitting you with a wave of nausea. 

You decided to keep talking, the silence making you uncomfortable. “You were on patrol, weren’t you?” 

“I was,” he said simply, opening the first packet and unraveling the wipe. 

“How did it go?” You spoke slowly, your words not meaning at all what you wanted them to. You wanted to scream about how useless this all was, how burdening you felt, how you tore him away from people who actually mattered all because of your stupid family. You wanted to apologize until your lungs gave out, pleading sorry after sorry until the guilt stopped eating away at you. 

You could see Damian look up at you through his eyelashes, a simple glance upwards before turning his attention back to the jagged cuts. “It went fine.” 

Nobody spoke for a few more moments, both of you too emotionally stunted to speak without regrets. He wiped off the blood cascading down your leg and all across your injury until the burn of the alcohol disappeared. He placed a fresh sheet of gauze over your thigh, his hand offering a calming pressure to the wound as he disposed of the reddened wipes. 

He paused while reaching for bandages. “Who did this to you?” 

There it is. 

You were waiting on it. 

You were well aware of how observant Damian was, one glance and he could see the bruises on your neck were from hands. One lingering moment and he can tell the cuts on your leg weren’t self-inflicted, they were a shattered mess of glass that plowed through your skin with its jagged edge—a glass bottle at best. He could see the shape of fingers around your wrist and the bruise on your cheek couldn’t be from falling down. 

As much as he pestered you for answers last time, you wouldn’t say much. The feelings of a broken home were too fresh to speak upon, you didn’t know if you even had a home to come back to. But a few hours later and you did, you knew the cost though. 

You were positive Damian had some suspicion against your home life, nothing yet confirmed. A lump in your throat constricted your next words. At your hesitation, Damian looked at you with his vibrant eyes. The fury he held in his irises was noticeable for miles. 

Anger was always a coverup of an emotion. If you looked hard enough, you could see through the stained glass window hiding the worry he was feeling. You breathed out. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Damian’s eyes narrowed slightly, his touch burned into your thigh. “If someone is hurting you it needs to be stopped.”

“Damian,” you sighed.

“This is serious. I will not tolerate someone hurting you, let alone doing nothing when we could prevent it and stop it.” 

You shifted your hold on the towel, the back of your neck suddenly feeling incredibly hot from the anxiety building. “Not everything can be stopped so easily.” 

Damian bristled. “You know very well what I am capable of.” 

“And I don’t doubt you.”

“Then why won’t you let me protect you?” 

He said it in such a stern tone that it stunned you, his voice wasn’t raised but the shock of it made you go still. You turned away from his gaze, blinking hard as your eyes began to burn. You spent an entire night hearing the harsh, raised voices of people upset with you, you hated to add another voice to the list, especially a voice you cherished so much. 

You couldn't meet the anger in his eyes anymore, the green of his irises turning so vibrant it hurt your own. It was sharp around the edges, his gaze holding so much power behind it. You sniffled as your eyes traced the circles in the wooden tables. 

Because I don't deserve it.

I don’t deserve you. 

You closed your eyes, hating how it made a few tears fall down your cheeks. Damian stilled. His hand twitched against the gauze as his brain tried to figure out what to do. He opted to give you time. His hands worked at the bandages and began wrapping your thigh, experienced hands working at a swift pace. 

The harder you tried to breathe evenly, the more your lungs spasmed. Just as Damian taped off the edge of the bandage, a sob wracked your body. Alerted, he instantly looked up at you, fury washing out of his eyes within seconds. You shook your head, trying so hard to shake the pathetic act off. 

He set the bandages down onto the table, his hands floating in the space between you two. One gut-wrenching sob burned through your throat and you collapsed forward into his arms. Within seconds, you felt his hands wrap around your upper back and settle there, holding you close to him. 

You cried into his shoulder, your eyes protected from the world in the crook of his neck. He held you as your frame shook with sobs; he held you as your tears soaked the collar of his shirt; he held you until your sobs turned into choppy breaths. 

He tried his best to comb through your soaked hair, offering some kind of comfort as you cried. Damian wasn’t always the best at this kind of thing, but dammit, he’s learning. 

“I don’t like seeing you hurt when I know I can do something about it. You don’t deserve to be hurt like this by anyone. Let me protect you, habibti.” 

Distantly you knew the arabic word was new, something Damian had never called you before. But as you melted into his embrace, you didn’t think much of it, too focused on trying to breathe properly. 

Protection. Safety. 

Neither were things you felt often. You craved them with every inch of your being yet the idea of it made you nauseated. Did you really deserve the love being shown to you? After so much pain and heartache, was there really anything more? 

Damian’s chin rested over your head, perfectly protecting the crown of your head from the outside world. Whether you knew it or not, this was the highest level of love he could show you—he was willing to burn the entire world down if it meant you were safe. Protecting his loved ones was something he didn’t take lightly, and somehow, you wormed your way onto that list of people. 

Your shoulder shook as you breathed, your throat ached from the inside out, bruised on both ends. 

“Breathe,” he whispered, a gentle rumble of his chest that was just enough to shock your lungs into another breath. He breathed with you, his chest expanding and deflating in an exaggerated way so you could feel it, follow it, mimack it. 

Your hands clung to his sweatshirt, the fabric against the palms of your hands was enough to ground you. That, and dismantle the fear that Damian would walk away any second now. He just held you tighter. 

“I assure you, I will never let anyone hurt you,” he mumbled the words into your damp hair, “So long as you are with me, you are safe.”

Another sob broke from your lips. This time it was one of pure relief. You had been on edge all night, fear and anxiety holding hands as adrenaline was in high gear. But now, in Damian’s arms, you truly felt safe. The adrenaline from the night tapered off, leaving you with nothing but shaky hands and a trembling chest. 

You shook your head in the crook of his neck. “Please, let me stay, for just a little bit. I-–” you chose your next words carefully, “I don’t feel s-safe at home.” 

Alarm bells rang throughout Damian’s head, sirens and red flags waving with every available nerve. 

I don’t feel safe at home.

That’s all he needed. That single sentence was enough evidence for Damian to put a stop to this once and for all. He let out a controlled breath.

“If I could help it, I would never want you to leave my arms.”

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@cherry-dropp

@missredrobin

[voidstilesplease]

for @steodiscord's may prompt: famous!steo

***

"Stiles! Fuck," cursing under his breath and practically sprinting the last few meters between them, Theo finally reaches and grabs Stiles's arm before he can turn another corner and disappear again. The look in Stiles's brown eyes is fierce and intimidating, but Theo's too pissed and hurt to care. "Why is it impossible to talk to you, huh? Damn it, Stiles."

Stiles presses his lips together and tries to pull away, but Theo's faster. His grip tightens around Stiles's arm enough not to hurt but gently draw him close. He tries catching Stiles's eyes, but the boy refuses to give in to Theo, even though there's nearly no space left between them. It's really frustrating. Sometimes Theo thinks this is his karma for pushing Stiles away before when the boy would literally bend over backward to win Theo's attention. But now that he's made peace with his sexuality and genuinely wants to experience a relationship with Stiles, he's losing him. They just can't meet in the middle.

"Look at me," Theo says, begs, but Stiles is too busy looking everywhere else but at the person who cares for him. He's always looking over his shoulder at the people who whisper and judge him after hearing only the barest minimum of what happened. It's crazy to think that just over a year ago, when Theo first arrived in Beacon Hills, Stiles used to treat the halls of Beacon International School as his runway. Stiles was a sight to behold even back when Theo didn't understand where the attraction was coming from. Now, Stiles barely lifts his head or shows anyone his eyes, as if every second he's out he's doing the walk of shame. But none of this is his fault. If only Theo could kiss him into believing it. As it is, Stiles won't even look at him. He exhales loudly, "Please, look at me."

Stiles shakes his head, still attempting to unfasten Theo's hand. He keeps glancing cautiously at the students trickling onto and off of the lawn. "Look, this is for the best, all right?"

"Best for whom, Stiles?"

He grumbles through clenched teeth, "For you, for me. For everyone."

Theo scoffs, "All this bullshit of cutting me off from your life is only making you more miserable - making me miserable."

Stiles's nostrils flare as he glares somewhere over Theo's shoulder. He says his words slowly as if doing so would make his point any reasonable in Theo's ears. "I'm trying not to ruin your life."

"Oh, not that crap-"

"You're gonna be ostracized!" Stiles blurts out angrily even before Theo could finish. And for the first time in many days, he meets Theo's eyes. "If you keep associating yourself with me, you're gonna end up like me and my sister - a pariah."

It weighs heavy in Theo's chest how defeated and sunken Stiles's eyes look now. He can't believe those are the same eyes that gleamed playfully at him whenever his actions contradict the words in his mouth. Whenever he denies that Stiles stirs unknown desires inside him, but always takes seconds too long to gaze away when Stiles bites his lower lip unconsciously, or when he strips in the shower room, or when Stiles wraps long, dexterous fingers around his beer bottle. It used to drive Theo insane how gorgeous he is. Now it's driving him insane how broken he is.

"You think I care about what they say more than I care about you?"

"You're not listening to me!" Stiles hisses. "I can't be the reason you disappoint your dad. You've worked hard to be in his good graces, and if he knows you're still talking to me-" he pauses momentarily and grunts in frustration. "Everyone hates my dad, and now everyone hates me. Don't you understand that? This school - this city - has condemned my family, and the only reason Lydia and I are still enrolled here is because we are literally incapable of moving elsewhere. Mom had to beg the board to, at the very least, allow her daughter and step-son to stay and finish the year even if they're booting her out as the principal for being the wife of an alleged murderer!" Stiles's eyes have gradually welled up through his outburst, and now they're threatening to spill. "Do you see it now? It's not the same as it was, Theo. I'm not the 'Amber Sun' of Beacon anymore. I'm no darling of the crowd. I'm a criminal's son. And future football superstars like you are not supposed to be caught dead with low-lives like me."

Stiles's life turns upside down when his dad gets framed for the murder of his business partner and former police partner. His step-mother, Lydia's mom, and elite school Beacon International School's principal gets fired but manages to convince the board to grant Stiles and Lydia to stay. As expected, everyone has heard of the arrest, and the once famed prince and princess of the school are no more than outcasts now.

To save Theo from the same fate, Stiles chooses to sever ties with him. He's already caused enough rift between Theo and his dad and his future in the football league when Theo came out as bisexual and confessed to only pretending to be interested in Lydia to hide his attraction toward Stiles.

But Theo's not having it. He's already gone too long denying his feelings, and he will not go back to denying that he cares about Stiles. If Stiles wants to investigate his dad's case himself, Theo will be right next to him. If Stiles wants answers from Donovan, his dad's partner's son who absolutely knows something that he's not telling the police to help the investigation, Theo will beat it out of him.

He will be himself even at the expense of the football fame that only his dad yearns for him, in the first place.

***

this is elite's fault, really. the mentioned past dynamic between theo and stiles, as in when stiles "would literally bend over backward to win theo's attention" and theo "didn't understand where the attraction was coming from", is resembling that of my other otp's, patrick and ivan respectively. also, i used the 'famous' in the prompt as being students of an elite international school where one is the principal's son and one is the son of a football superstar and is also groomed by his dad to be the same. :) they're pretty famous in the campus, so...

[melmodest]

MANIC

Am I normal?

Does it consider normal?

I’ve been staying up several nights in a raw

writing notes

that don’t have any sense.

They do have a sense –

to me.

But me is me.

I’m not destined to make choices for other creatures.

Just me.

These days I’m unusually productive –

washed filth from my drawers

and dusted my desk.

I’ve been fueled with coffee –

black neat and bitter.

I’m so in love with the world

currently.

And people.

I’m never fond of people.

They represent malice

and blooming poisonous flowers

in well-maintained gardens

hidden behind fenced houses.

I love people

currently.

They seem fine

and kind.

I find people funny.

Lately, I’ve been energized to the point I started to consider myself a genius.

At the moment I am strongly convinced

that I am glamorous

and a conqueror of the Milky Way.

Do you think I’m heading only halfway?

Should I level up the stakes of the play?

I will probably win.

I will grab victory

as a trophy

and put it to my collection of trinkets

abandoned on the highest shelves

in a closet

with spider webs

littered in corners.

I’m talking too fast.

Lately my head has been whirling in a salsa dance

scaling up volume

each second.

My swirling thoughts have been passing by

like strangers.

It’s absolute truth and lie –

they can be passersby

but never strangers.

Yesterday I baked a pie

filled with cherries and strawberries.

A pie is mine.

I didn’t share my pie

with anyone.

‘Cause I’m thirsty

and starving

and my famine demands I swallow up each piece

of a pie

filled with quizzes,

puzzles

and

brain teasers,

for me

to make up my mind

what will it be

cherries

or

strawberries

or,

maybe,

me?

(I didn’t know which was rotten).

It’s a mere blink of an eye.

I open my eyes

And ask, "Why?"

Why now?

Couldn’t you wait?

A little.

This is the part

I lose sync with emerald green grass and pure blue sky.

This is the part

when I sink.

I don’t want to sink.

I don’t want to get drowned in the rain.

Not again.

But my mind always finds its way

to intrude my vein.

My mind is my favorite game.

My mind and I play this game

forever.

My mind is a dexterous player.

And I’m a sucker.

But we are both too adamant

and fixed

on beating one another.

It’s getting hazy

more,

more

and more.

I don’t want to get blind!

I don’t want to get deaf!

It’s cold.

And I sniffle.

I mopped the floor in the living room.

I mowed the lawn.

I trimmed bushes in the backyard.

I swept the backyard

and the driveway

I threw away

my getaway

to downplay

my chances

to lose the game.

I am ready to fight the fall.

But the fall isn’t ready to let me loose.

Am I normal?

Does it consider normal?

I’ve been very productive lately.

I’ve been utterly happy,

Enjoying my time out of home

and conversations with people on phone.

I’m in love with people.

I love people.

I worship people.

I’ve been staying up every night

13 days in a raw –

two hours of sleep at night,

food-deprived.

I am alright.

But my fingers are trembling

and I am sweating too much.

Cold sweat.

I bet

it’s just my head

plays all sneaky and tricky.

Please,

head,

don’t flicker.

I NEED to stay up all night.

To write.

To love people.

I don’t want to hate people.

Or green grass.

Or blue sky.

I want to be starving and thirsty.

I want to crave life.

I want to stay happy

and smiley

and productive.

I NEED me.

I need me to be mine.

Please,

head,

don’t flicker.

I need me.

I need THIS version of me

loving,

confident,

bright.

Please,

head,

I promise

I will surrender.

I will crawl under my bedsheets to replenish all sleepless nights.

I will sleep

and sink

and dive deep into the waters

of your diabolical genius.

I will be your obedient kid.

The one you need.

Please,

head,

I admit

I am not normal.

It doesn’t consider normal.

We are two sides of one coin.

Versions.

But,

head,

give me time, stop this whirlwind motion.

I welcome both versions.

Head,

I’m in love with this version of me

more.

.

.

A couple years ago I was very stubborn and still partially in denial to admit that smth was wrong with me. I hoped that whatever it was it would just pass by itself. I was foolish and yet to seek a proper treatment and go into therapy knowing that was probably the best way to finally have my life back in my hands. I was flipping episode after episode trying to collect the scattered all over the place pieces of myself - from utter despair to the highest elation. Highs. Lows. I wrote this when I was in one of my highs. Rereading it now, I think this piece is a very detailed retelling of that time - chaotic, all pastel colors and dark splashes, bittersweet happy joy. I loved that me.

.

[dexterbritain]

No. 11 Royal Garden Party - The excitement has built for weeks as you’re invited to the biggest party of the year. Dressed to impress and champagne flowing, you and your socialite friends are ready to be decadent to the extreme. Chandeliers float above your head as you dance on the perfectly laid lush green lawn. Think Marie Antoinette and her young friends toasting to their unearned luxury. 

[eunchancorner]

since we're talking about Dexter, I wanted to check something

so in that new Halloween art Pelo posted (pretty sure you posted it here) the ghost on the right of the lawn is meant to resemble Dexter I'm pretty sure

Yeah, he's always stuck being decor, poor guy

[vullcanica]

@vilestblood // ❛ We won’t know the cause of death without an autopsy. ❜ ((for nik... teehee.))

As far as Nico is concerned, all evidence points to that pesky little wrench in the patient's foot. A little absurd for a children's game in his opinion, even for Avita, who seems to be swiftly losing interest after a third round and two losses. He'd conceded the last one to make her happy. It hadn't worked.

"We do know. It's me.." she mutters, pouty and doe-eyed.

It's a blissfully early Saturday evening and they're huddled in close on the couch around a game of "Operation", trying to shake a sullen little five year old out of her utmost despondency in the aftermath of another 'death buzzer'. By the long look Antonin is giving him - fondly kubrickesque, reproachful, amounting to 'what did i say' - Nic suspects this might be entirely his fault for buying the finicky game for her when he'd known it would sow strife in their household. In his defense, something about 'daddy's job' had come up and he'd folded like a lawn chair. It would train her dexterity, he had insisted, and inane though it was, it still counted towards watering her little seed of kindness and nurturing that'd somehow sprouted from the genetic moral wasteland him and her mother had unwittingly set up for her.

Either way, game night this evening starts gearing to hold Vita's ire more than her attention. Just like predicted. Trust Antonin to come to the rescue anyway. Nicodem throws him a conspiratorial look over the white gold crown of Avita's head, features colored with a tinge of affection. Ok, you were right. Gameplan now.

"No, you have a point. We might require an autopsy," he intones with a casual air of feigned curiosity, quick to follow the cue. "His vital signs dropped far too quick, Doctor Cainhurst."

Avita glances his way briefly before lifting her crestfallen little face to behold Antonin with piqued interest. She finds him pensively examining their unfortunate plastic patient. Already half in character, thoughtful hum included. Nico fondly studies the gentle pinch of his brows and the near silver of his hair under the living room's daylight bulb and makes a mental note to kiss him senseless later in the privacy of their bedroom. He's gone molten-eyed and soft again without his own notice. An unwitting habit he catches himself in lately when he looks at them both a little too long - no longer watching to memorize the exact curve of a smile or the lilt of a laugh, just in case. Now simply doing so to fill his chest with it, with the abundance of them: happy, healthy, here.

Antonin's voice brings his attention to the present. Deeply solemn, hilariously so. "Suspiciously quick..." he determines with a haughty countenance, judge deciding on a verdict. Nicodem knows what's coming. "Some signs clearly point to possible foul play."

Ah, the buzzword. Avita perks up a little straighter immediatelly, everything clicking into place. Nic can't see her when she's turned away, but he knows her, from the baby hairs up top, down to the tips of her toes. Well enough to predict the small lift of her brow and the Desalvar smile, toothy, gapped, yet so distinctly curled, and her mother's unmistakeable dimples. Judging by Antonin's softening features, he's right.

"Oh. Like a job for a detective?"

"Perhaps."

Nicodem watches her look over the table with newfound interest, place both hands on it and assume the distinct pose of famed Ms Detective Desalvar, ready for another puzzling case. Antonin smiles. And the futile urge to stop time rises in him suddenly.

If he could stay here, just like this. Warm and comfortable, so wholly content, Avita perched on his thigh and his ankle touching Antonin's, suspended in the culmination of all his efforts and unlikely hopes, of gruelling nights and days, of tears shed alone. He could look at them forever.

But he won't. The thought is fleeting for once, spell easily broken. And the desperate snapshot of memory goes with it, pale in comparison to the future for once. He refuses to dwell anymore. It's safe to look beyond happiness now that it's no longer short lived. Nothing lurks around the corner. The evening will go on and he will step forward into it. He'll lovingly watch Detective Desalvar mull over all the little wrench and bucket and horse clues of a cold case made up from the scraps of his horrible purchase, and he'll steal kisses from Antonin overhead while she isn't looking. And when the lazagna he's put in the oven is done they'll eat together, sat around one corner of their pointlessly vast dinner table or like this, on the couch in a huddle. They'll turn the lights low then and put on a movie that Antonin will almost doze off in the middle of, jetlagged and sleep-soft and beautiful. He will tuck his precious daughter in by the end of the night and kiss her sweet dreams, and he will retire to bed, to be made love to quietly and then fall asleep in Antonin's arms. And he will do it all with the knowledge that he's earned it at last. That this, all of it, is his.

He reaches forward, to pick up the silly pair of plastic little pincers off the floor and hands them to Avita. He steps into the evening, bravely. "Your tools, Detective Desalvar?"

She grins up at him, all sunshine.

"That's Detective Doctor Desalvar."

"Ah, of course."

[yumitsukiyoru]

The Best Gardening Tools and Gadgets According to Amazon Shoppers

Discover the top-rated gardening products on Amazon that will make your gardening experience easier and more enjoyable.

When it comes to finding the best products, recommendations from fellow shoppers can be invaluable. Amazon shoppers are known for their discerning taste and honest reviews, making them a trusted source for finding high-quality items. Whether you're a seasoned gardener or just starting out, having the right tools and gadgets can make a world of difference in your gardening experience.

We've scoured through thousands of reviews to bring you the top-rated gardening products on Amazon that have achieved cult-favorite status. From kneeling pads to pruning shears, these items have received rave reviews and are sure to enhance your gardening endeavors. So, get ready to dig, plant, and prune with confidence as we unveil the must-have gardening tools and gadgets recommended by Amazon shoppers.

Gorilla Grip Extra Thick Kneeling Pad

Designed for both indoor and outdoor activities, the Gorilla Grip Extra Thick Kneeling Pad is a water-resistant pad made with extra-thick, high-density foam. This durable pad provides excellent protection for your knees, whether you're gardening or engaging in other activities that require kneeling. With over 10,000 five-star ratings, this kneeling pad has become a favorite among Amazon shoppers.

"Great gardening aid," shared one impressed customer. "I like to garden and have a knee that hurts when I kneel down. This pad is very comfortable, easy to use, and provides a good spot to put small objects that you are using.

I have two of them and prefer them to knee pads."

COOLJOB Gardening Gloves

Durable, lightweight, and breathable, COOLJOB Gardening Gloves are designed to protect your hands while providing a non-slip grip on your gardening tools. These knit gloves feature a flexible rubber coating and have garnered over 14,000 five-star reviews from green-thumbed Amazon shoppers. They are also machine washable, making them easy to clean between uses.

"I do A LOT of gardening, and these gloves are amazing," shared one satisfied reviewer. "They hold up to the dirt and water, and the only reason I have purchased them twice is because I use them so much. They are very durable and provide excellent grip."

Aqua Joe Oscillating Sprinkler

With over 27,000 five-star reviews, the Aqua Joe Oscillating Sprinkler is a powerhouse when it comes to watering your lawn. This sprinkler offers completely customizable coverage and is equipped with 20 clog-resistant rubber nozzles. It even comes with a built-in clean-up tool, making maintenance a breeze.

"My boy Aqua Joe rightfully deserves his due credit!" gushed one shopper. "This sprinkler has made what used to be an annoying and tedious task, a thing of the past!

Forget everything you think you know about oscillating sprinklers because this thing reinvented them. I would hands-down recommend you buy it!"

Sun Joe Electric Garden Tiller/Cultivator

The Sun Joe Electric Garden Tiller/Cultivator is a popular choice for gardeners looking to make their planting and weeding tasks easier. With a 2.5-Amp motor and the ability to cultivate up to 6.3 inches deep, this lightweight tiller is perfect for preparing soil for planting. It has received high praise from Amazon shoppers, with one gardener stating, "Love this tiller.

I have a somewhat large garden and plowed all of it for the spring planting with this tiller. It does a great job and is a great price."

Fiskars Bypass Pruning Shears

When it comes to pruning, the Fiskars Bypass Pruning Shears are a top choice among experienced gardeners. These shears feature an ergonomic design with a non-slip grip, and the all-steel blade has a rust-resistant coating for easy clipping. With a soft grip and low-friction coating, these shears easily glide through wood, making them a favorite among those with arthritis or hand dexterity issues.

"I was unable to use larger cutting tools because I have nasty arthritis, but with the Fiskars shears, it's snip and snip and snip," shared a happy shopper. "I am ordering another one today. Yes, it's that good."

Amoji Unisex Garden Clogs

For comfortable and practical footwear while gardening, the Amoji Unisex Garden Clogs are a popular choice. These clogs feature mini massaging bumps in the footbed, drainage holes to prevent water from getting trapped inside, and a non-slip sole for stability and safety. With over 22,000 five-star reviews, these clogs are loved for their versatility and ease of cleaning.

"I use these for slipping on when walking in my backyard with my dogs, gardening, and neighborhood walks," shared one customer. "They are very comfy and cute! Great for warm weather as my feet would get hot.

No odor."

Chapin International Lawn and Garden Sprayer

For those with larger yards or gardens, the Chapin International Lawn and Garden Sprayer is a must-have. These sprayers allow you to take water and liquid fertilizer to areas that your sprinklers can't reach. With over 54,000 five-star reviews, these sprayers are highly regarded for their durability and ease of use.

"They hold plenty of water or liquid fertilizer for what I need in my greenhouse," shared a satisfied gardener. "The sprayer works great, and they're not too heavy for me. And the sprayer works just as well when watering plants on the top shelves."

2Wayz Hose Splitter

When one spout is not enough, the 2Wayz Hose Splitter comes to the rescue. This faucet splitter allows you to hook up two hoses at once and has large shut-off valves that are easy to maneuver. With over 22,000 rave reviews, this splitter is a handy tool for those with multiple watering needs.

"I live in a condo unit and have a small courtyard with planting areas on all four sides," shared a five-star fan. "This splitter is a handy tool. The levers that control the water flow do a good job of controlling it without leaks or drips."

Gootop Bug Zapper

For bug-free outdoor gatherings and celebrations, the Gootop Bug Zapper is a must-have. This gadget uses blue light to attract mosquitoes, gnats, moths, and flies within a 1,500 sq. ft range, zapping and killing them on contact.

With over 38,000 five-star reviews, this bug zapper is highly effective and housed inside a plastic grate to prevent accidental zaps.

"I live in Florida, and I haven't found any product that would keep the mosquitoes away," shared a pleased shopper. "I haven't had an issue since I bought this machine. It kills all bugs that get attracted, but mosquitoes were my biggest issue."

Wise Owl Outfitters Hammock

When it's time to relax and enjoy your garden, the Wise Owl Outfitters Hammock is the perfect companion. This mega-popular hammock can be effortlessly strung up anywhere you have trees. Available in two sizes and 14 colors, this hammock is made of sturdy parachute nylon and is lightweight and compact for easy storage.

"These are the BEST hammocks I've ever used," shared one customer. "They are very durable and high quality. Could not recommend this more.

Also can fit 2 people in here!"

With the help of Amazon shoppers, we've compiled a list of the top-rated gardening tools and gadgets that will enhance your gardening experience. From kneeling pads to pruning shears, sprinklers to clogs, these items have received rave reviews for their durability, functionality, and ease of use. So, whether you're an experienced gardener or just starting out, these cult-favorite products are sure to make your gardening endeavors more enjoyable.

Happy gardening!

[night---stalker]

AC:01

If someone were to comment on Xander’s nostalgic personality -anyone that knew him now would laugh and deny it. These days, his past was locked in a vault, never to see the light of day again. Not only for the crimes that he had committed - but because he didn’t like the memories. Only one ever hit him, and that’s when his mother died.

Until one day, he had an epiphany when looking through boxes to see what he wanted to keep, or put away in storage. One of the boxes was old, darkened in color. He was curious. He opened the box and at the top was a newspaper article, about the last home he had caught on fire. The one with the couple inside. He read the article, smirking to himself.

MASSIVE FIRE IN SANTA CRUZ KILLS TWO.

This was the summer of 2016, Xander was eighteen years old. The heat in California had been in full blast with no sign of rain. Prying himself away from his computer, he walked through his too large home. He wasn’t looking for anyone in particular, he knew his dad was away and anyone else employed by him was sleeping. Sneaking out of this house was no fun. He was not quiet when leaving, nearly begging for attention. A scolding, something. Nothing came and he bounced down the stairs of his house, leaving to the gas station.

While there, he bought matches and gas, explaining to the cashier that he was leaving for a camping trip and didn’t want to be stranded in the middle of nowhere when he was given a strange look. He paid, left and crossed the street, going to the nearest neighborhood he could find. Secretly, he already knew where he was going, but to an outside perspective he just looked like a kid who had gotten lost in the city.

He waited for a while, knowing that at this time and place there was a drought that was sweeping through California. This wouldn’t be that big of a travesty in his mind. This was bound to happen to someone, to anyone; He sighed quietly as he stood in front of the home. The lawn was manicured but not watered, which made this all the more easy. From his backpack he pulled out a ziplock baggie and gloves. Inside said baggie was a bird that had died earlier in the day from the same fate that he was about to relive. He put the gloves on, grabbed the bird then tossed it to the power lines, causing a spark that fell to their roof. Quickly and silently, he used whatever dexterity he was given, climbing to the roof with the gas can, pouring a small bit on the already burning roof tiles. This caused the fire to expand with a woosh, Xander would have stayed there longer if his shoe hadn’t caught fire. Seeing him climb down the house and put the fire out with the hose, you’d think you saw a shitty special effect with how fast he was. He turned the hose off, and by the time he made it to the end of the street, the house was now engulfed in flames. A job well done. After his little rush, he went home and waited for the news articles to flood his feed. After months of deliberation, it had been decided that the bird was what caused the fire. Xander was free. Not that anyone would have assumed it was him anyway. That’s why he never had a specific type of home or person he went after. He killed at will.

Coming back to reality in the present day, Xander hummed to himself, putting the paper up before sliding it into the “storage” pile. No one would know of his trophies, not even Katerina.

[baenxietydad]

Tornado Warnings || Hatfish

@davidhatter

Canon date: August 14th

Word count: 6024

Summary: Mu-yeol has too much Shit To Do TM to rest despite not being well, Hatter is having none of that, K-drama levels of miscommunication, under communication, and assumptions continue

[link, or full text under the cut]

MU-YEOL:

  If it were entirely up to him, he’d be in the Hollow resting today.

  But your immigration lawyer’s impending retirement did not rest for a demon event in your town, and phone signal in the Hollow could be spotty, so here he sat on a bench in town, trying to write an email to his lawyer, requesting all of his and Nemo’s documents so he could present them to a new lawyer when it came time to file new paperwork to maintain their status. 

  (And…well, Mu-yeol had been thinking of having the citizenship conversation with Nemo. It would be easier for his son to travel for his dance career with an actual passport, not a UK-issued Stateless Person’s Travel Document. Even Mu-yeol had a real South Korean passport, even if he didn’t have the full rights of a South Korean citizen.)

  And if he was in town anyway, and already writing emails, he may as well get in contact with the South Korean embassy about scheduling a passport renewal appointment. 

  The trouble was he’d overexerted himself healing during the whole demon thing, and was experiencing the phenomenon healing talents experience when that happens known as the cloudies. When your brain is foggy, your muscles are weak, and you’re experiencing nonstop fatigue, after exhausting your healing magic, that’s the cloudies. His hands couldn’t even muster up enough strength to open a jar yesterday, which was better than the day before, when a spoon just fell right out of his hand and he could only eat fruit smoothies through a reed straw. 

  Today he could hold his phone and had enough dexterity to type, but he was constantly making errors, deleting, and re-typing. The two emails finally were sent though, and he stood to head back to the forest– only to find that he was feeling incredibly faint. Annoying.

  He held onto the back of the bench and closed his eyes, as if that would help.

  “Aish, ssi-bal,” he muttered under his breath, swearing in his native language. 

  HATTER: After the sun had risen and everyone was safe to get back to their houses, Hatter had seen Franny and her daughter off before returning to the shoppe. It had been no less damaged than it usually got during one of these things. The door had been kicked in, windows had been broken, a quick check in the back showed a pair of teenagers had hidden in his office. He woke them up, warmed them each a muffin, and sent them on their way.    He got the windows boarded up after sending out the usual messages to those on shift for the next few days that there was no need to come in. Not unless they really wanted to, which they shouldn’t. Then he had started making his rounds, checking in on people.    At least those whose residences he could walk to.    Monday was much the same, though with a proper night’s sleep he could get started on the clean up. Helping others get their windows patched up, their lawns cleaned of any debris, sweeping broken glass up off the street outside his shoppe and anyone else’s who needed a hand.    He’d been putting trash out in the bins behind his shoppe when he looked out on the park, watching the scene of someone having a bit of a hard time getting up from one of the benches. Frowning, he closed the back door and headed over. As soon as he got close enough to recognize the person to be Mr. Bae, he picked up his pace.    “You alright?” he asked as soon as he was within range. 

  MU-YEOL:

  “Oh. Hi, David.” He looked up to confirm it was Hatter, which was beyond embarrassing, and nodded. 

  “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” He lied. “It’s just a thing that happens to healing talent fairies when we…overdo it. I’m on day…is it three?”

  He blinked rapidly before his eyes went wide open. “Wow, okay, so nothing spinning anymore. Great, good. I’m great.”

  HATTER: All that time, Hatter had been concerned about whether or not Mr. Bae and his son had gotten hurt during the whole ordeal. He hadn’t even thought this, about Mr. Bae using up his magic. Knowing him, as Hatter liked to think he did by now, he had probably gone even past that point. Until, well, he was apparently dizzy for a few days after, not even fully recuperate.    Hatter took a few steps closer, a hand hovering behind Mr. Bae’s back. Just in case.    He struggled to think of what to say, half a mind to tell him that no offense, but he certainly did not look great, or anywhere near it. But his manners wouldn’t have that. It wasn’t very polite to comment on someone else’s appearance, even if it was true. He looked around them, trying to think of some excuse to-    “Brilliant, so then you wouldn’t mind helping me?” he asked. “Someone knocked over a table in the shoppe. Need an extra pair of hands to get it up right again.” 

  MU-YEOL:

  Mu-yeol, too polite to turn him down, agreed with a ‘sure.’

  Up above them in a tree, Karen the squirrel sat with his squirrel friends Misty and Needles (of the pine variety), who were already very pleased with the entertainment Karen promised them. 

  “So you’re okay then? That’s good.” His voice lacked the usual amount of energy it had, and he wasn’t about to animatedly pop off with bonus thought content. 

  HATTER: “Yeah,” he said with a curt nod. “And what about your son? Was he alright?”    Hatter led them across the way to his back door that he only had to push open. They made it to the front of the shoppe, which was darker than usual since the windows had gone and wood had taken that place, no longer letting in any of the sunlight that was shinning through on this summer day.    “Huh,” he said once they’d stopped. Looking around, as if searching for the table he had promised. Then he hummed to himself, rubbing a hand under his chin. “You know, now that I think about it, I did end up getting that table backup on my own. Sorry about that. Though, if you wouldn’t mind testing it to make sure it’s level, that’d be nice.”    He stepped toward the nearest table, pulling out a chair, then back around Mr. Bae  to get to the other side of the counter, getting a kettle filled with water. 

  MU-YEOL:

  “My son? Um, well he did get hurt but luckily his Appa is a healing talent. He’s still a little shaken up but his ankle and jaw are good.” Mu-yeol said, before frowning. “That had been the worst part for me, healing everybody I was stuck with and not knowing where he was. Until hours later he ran into the same building I happened to be in.”

  He gave a tired little chuckle as he sat down, recalling what happened next. 

  “He immediately got to lecturing me for doing so much by myself once he wasn’t hurting anymore. But there wasn’t another healing talent around, and all I had was my hands and my magic, I didn’t have the potions and poultices at my disposal that I would in the Hollow.” He gestured around him vaguely. “That’s why I’m all— this.”

  He gave the table a test wiggle only to find it was so beyond stable. His jaw dropped, realizing he’d been got. Wow, he would’ve been so easy to kidnap as a child, maybe his father was right to be so paranoid. 

  He didn’t immediately call Hatter out. It was sweet of him, and behind the embarrassment Mu-yeol was a little…happy about it. 

  HATTER: His stomach tightened into a knot upon hearing that but, over the course of Mr. Bae’s explanation, was able to loosen. It sounded horrific even though they’d been able to find one another and his son had gotten healed. He couldn’t imagine the stress Mr. Bae had put on himself, trying to do all of that while also having to worry about the well being of his son.    While it was easy for someone without his magic to say that he didn’t need to be doing all that he probably had at the expense of himself, Hatter didn’t doubt that having that ability while surrounded by people in need of healing, it was more difficult to not do it. And since Mr. Bae was a very caring person, of course he would want to help those he could and even those that he couldn’t.    “I’m glad you found one another,” he said, moving this way and that as he worked behind the counter. “And I’m sure everyone was happy to have you there.”    Then that begged the question that Hatter did not want to ask. Or think about really, since all it did was make him feel ridiculous for not wanting to ask and have everything be…confirmed and real. Which, now that he was thinking of it, why was Mr. Bae walking around in this state without his- his- see this is why he should ask, so he could at least think of the word in annoyance properly. Still, the problem remained: why wasn’t the person Mr. Bae had feelings for around to make sure he was resting after everything that he had done? Or at least following him to go do whatever it was he had been doing in the park to make sure he had someone around, in case anything happened.    “Was erm…there anyone else to be…concerned about?” was all he could manage to make himself ask. 

  MU-YEOL:

  Mu-yeol had no idea what Hatter was even trying to get at, as he was very much single and in fact actively suppressing feelings for the man fussing over him right now. Anyone else to be concerned about? What could that mean?

  “Ah, fortunately I found out that anybody in town I cared about was okay, physically. Nemo told me about the Moons, and he heard from a mutual friend of his and Su Qin that Ting-Ting’s all right. The Market is really damaged though, I’ll have to ask Jun what he needs help with—“ anticipating Hatter’s side-eye, he held up a hand “— later, obviously. The Pixie’s group chat all came back positive. Karen scoped you out, so I didn’t have to worry about you for long.”

  HATTER: Hatter nodded along to the list of people that made of the other man’s social network. On queue, he did turn to look over his shoulder when Mr. Bae said he would be helping with clean up, and was placated by the hand enough to return his attention back to what he was doing. He snorted at the mention of Karen acting as a spy, but that seemed about right.   When Mr. Bae seemed to have finished Hatter waited a moment too long, trying to see if he would add a final name or maybe he felt he needed to preface the whole thing with There’s someone I’ve yet to talk about, or what have you. Yet nothing came after. No mention of any potential…person.    It was frustrating, and only because he was more frustrated with himself for being so frustrated about the whole thing. He was just far too awkward and polite to be remotely blunt about it to bring up first. Mr. Bae needed to be the one to say, to give Hatter permission to know. It was his life and his business, after all, not Hatter’s.    It was probably the only time in his life that he wished the town’s gossip network would do him the favor of tuning him in. Or maybe if Karen could spell, they could work out some sort of communication system so he could be a double agent for Hatter himself.    “What about Miss Anna?” he asked. “Have you heard from her?” 

  MU-YEOL:

  “Oh yes, she’s doing ridiculously okay. She beat a demon back with a rolling pin. Just—“ he mimed doing it. “She’s a legend. Zero out of ten would mess with her. It’s why I very quickly stuck with her with all the dance mums.”

  He almost shuddered, recalling Recently Divorced Rachel and Crazy Carrie. 

  He looked around the shop. “Looks like, what, windows? That’s manageable at least, for you. Annoying, but. Glad you’re not hurt without your designated healing fairy around.”

  HATTER: That made him smile, chuckling quietly to himself as he continued preparing Mr. Bae’s drink. It wasn’t the normal Chai, which actually would have been the smarter move since he knew Mr. Bae liked that. It just didn’t feel right to serve him something warm in the middle of the day, when it was still warm outside, even if it wasn’t scorching. And because he had been suffering from being dizzy.    Instead, he was making ginger iced tea, since ginger was supposedly supposed to help with that feeling. He’d poured the boiling water over the ginger, and while that steeped he busied himself squeezing limes and lemons. He strained both the water and the citrus into a glass, squeezed a generous amount of honey into it, stirred, and then shoved as much ice into it that would fit. He carried this over to the table and placed it in front of Mr. Bae with a straw in case he wanted that.   And for himself he had a simply mug of black tea, as Hatter always did.    “No offense, but I don’t think that would be wise,” he said as he sat down. “But yes, I got off relatively easy. Just need to fix the front door frame so it will actually lock again. Otherwise our hours will be open 24 hours.” 

  MU-YEOL:

  He accepted the tea with both hands and a curt nod, automatically reverting to the polite way to be handed things in his culture vs. simply taking it with his dominant hand. 

  “Mm, then when would you sleep?” Mu-yeol joked. “I’m one to talk. Thank you, um. For the tea.”

  He took a sip and smiled, pleasantly surprised. “Ooh, ginger. 맛있어 (masisseo).” 

  He didn’t think to automatically translate, partially because he hadn’t fully realized he didn’t say something like ‘yay!’ or ‘yum!’ But ‘yum’ should have been obvious from context. 

  “I should still be in bed, but. My immigration lawyer is retiring. I needed good data service to ask for mine and Nam-min’s documents to send to a new lawyer next time we need new paperwork filed. And-“ he sipped at the tea again. “- figured I should go ahead and contact the South Korean embassy about my passport and ID card renewal, I had to stop putting it off eventually. I was already here.”

  HATTER: Satisfied that Mr. Bae seemed alright with the tea choice, he relaxed into his seat, one hand sat on the table beside the mug.    He frowned a little, thinking about all that Mr. Bae was saying. The implications of it, of him going to Korea for what was going on with his late wife’s case, already stressful enough, let alone with the addition of having to deal with any department of the government. Even the bloody post office was a time and a half, Hatter couldn’t imagine having to talk to anyone about a passport.    “As important as all of that is,” he tried to ease into this, “wouldn’t it be better to rest now and do all of that later? When you can…focus on it properly?” 

  MU-YEOL:

  “Probably.” He admitted. “But…I don’t know how to explain it other than like. When my brain tells me I have to do a task now, right now, or I’ll never actually get it done, and I get all anxious about it the longer I wait after that, it’s easier to just do it.”

  He probably sounded so silly right now, that wasn’t really new though. 

  “I did feel a lot better too, earlier.”

  HATTER: Hatter didn’t think he sounded silly, he just thought he sounded like Mr. Bae. And this was something else he was learning about him. It was good to know, let him have more of an understanding as to why he was prioritizing paperwork over his own health. It may not have been relatable to Hatter, who could afford to be lazy about a lot of things in his life as he had been doing everything the same for years and years and had no intention of changing it to avoid the headaches of paperwork, he could still find understanding in the explanation.    “When?” he asked, picking up his mug to bring it closer to his mouth. “When you woke up?” 

  MU-YEOL:

  “Mhm. I slept I think…I must’ve been out thirteen hours almost. Felt okay compared to the last two days, ate something.” He shrugged. “Thought I was good, surely after two days. I don’t get sick, I don’t feel bad, ever. My body doesn’t scar— well apart from—“ his hand involuntarily moved to where the one imperfection was, leftover from when he tired to save his wife so strongly that his body didn’t heal fully. “Anyway. But then again the last time this happened I didn’t remember it.”

  He didn’t think he needed to say it was the day his wife was murdered. 

  “And the first time, it wasn’t as bad. They make us do this once, on purpose, in healing talent training. It’s so we know what The Cloudies feel like and can recognize it — uh, that’s what we call it.”

  HATTER: No, he didn’t. Hatter got the picture, as horrible as it was to imagine.    “The Cloudies,” he repeated with a slow nod before sipping his tea. The bitter, familiar taste was nice as it was grounding as hearing all of this, how Mr. Bae didn’t seem to think he needed as much as as he clearly did, brought up the thought of this person he had feelings for all over again.   Just where the bloody hell were they? Why weren’t they the ones around to tell him that yes he may have done the basic necessities at first, but in order to continue getting back to his normal, he needed to keep doing those things. And not over exert himself.    “Perhaps not, but it’s not as if you do that much in one day all the time. And not even one day, it was over a night,” he said. “You need to let your magic rejuvenate in its own time. Yourself, too. As hard as that may be, it’ll mean you can get back to doing things without feeling like this, rather than doing things and feeling like this for a longer period of time.” 

  MU-YEOL:

  Mu-yeol knew he was right, of course. He didn’t argue with him, and wasn’t trying to when he said, “I know, I know. God, I just have so much I need to do. For Nemo, for this whole nebulous court thing.”

  He sighed. 

  “It’s…” he stopped himself from saying ‘too much.’ “Yeah, healing talents usually work in teams for big things. Doing it all by myself, nobody would ever do that in the Hollow.”

  HATTER: “None of which are going to get done if you continue on as you are,” Hatter said, concerned that Mr. Bae would do just that, working both at Pixie’s and the Hollow while he was still feeling as he was, and run himself further ragged than he already was.    He knew what that was like, feeling so many things press down on him at once and not being able to relax until they were all done. But there was always something else to be added onto the pile, and there was never time to get out from under all of it. Not alone, anyway.    “Or, if it simply must get done, there’s nothing wrong with asking someone to help you with everything.” 

  MU-YEOL:

  Ask for help, yeah, like he could.

  “I’m alone in most of this,” Mu-yeol said. “There’s nobody to help me take care of my son and what he needs. Nobody can handle the Korean embassy for me. Asking for help would be nice, if someone could.”

  He sighed. 

  “It’s fine, It’s…handled. All handled. Except uni but I’m manifesting he’ll get those scholarships.”

  HATTER: Hatter had to hide a grimace by taking a drink of tea, the emotion potentially mistaken for the heat or steep of the tea instead of how incredibly frustrated hearing all of that made him. Mostly because he was very annoyed with Mr. Bae’s partner for not making him feel like he could rely on them to help. Even a little a bit. And also maybe because Hatter was sitting right across the table, offering, too.    Maybe that was it then. The person had offered, and yet Mr. Bae felt the need to keep them from it since he felt as if everything to do with this was his responsibility alone. Hatter could, unfortunately, see that due to all he’d learned of Mr. Bae’s past that had made him feel isolated from everyone.    Still. He’d think if they cared about him as much as Mr. Bae did about them, that they would make an effort to show that they were able to be trusted with something that could potentially help.    “Those may be out of their hands, but there’s more things people can do for you, if you’d let them,” he said.  

  MU-YEOL:

  Mu-yeol took another sip of his tea and, thinking carefully about saying this, afraid it was too vulnerable, said it anyway. 

  “The only thing anybody can really do is listen, which. You do. I appreciate you a lot, David.” Ever so slowly, his eyes moved to meet Hatter’s, before looking back down at his tea to reach for another sip. 

  “That, and make a cup of tea for me.” He said, chuckling as he rested his chin in his hand. 

  HATTER: Well, if that wasn’t enough to soften the growing discontent. Even just a little.    Still. It didn’t sit right with him that Mr. Bae should have to settle for only that when he cared about this person so much. The man was willing to put his well being on the line for strangers, why wouldn’t whoever this person was put in some amount of effort to show Mr. Bae some sort of comfort or support.    Hatter huffed softly as Mr. Bae chuckled, turning his head to look over at the counter, “I’d hope so. It’s really all I know how to do.” 

  MU-YEOL:

  He smiled, gesturing vaguely in the general direction of Pixie’s. 

  “And all I know how to do in human society  is get people drunk for money while flirting with them in hopes they give me even more money.” Mu-yeol said, laughing behind his glass of tea. “I love American tourists. They often don’t realize that tipping isn’t as big of a deal here as there, and it’s not in my best interest to tell them.”

  A beat. 

  “You’re good at it, you know. Being here. I’m a lot less…it’s less isolating, these days. Living here.”

  HATTER: He made a face of doubt as Mr. Bae tried to downplay himself, but couldn’t say anything against it as Mr. Bae’s last statement had to pry all the residual negativity from Hatter’s hands. It was a bit of a whiplash, the word shift to jovial to something more serious, making him have to do the hearing equivalent of a double-take, but when it settled in understanding he let out a breath.    Because how could he stay mad if that was true?    “Good,” he said with a small but earnest smile. “I’m glad.”    And he was, knowing he was being too harsh of a judge on someone he wasn’t even supposed to know about. He was confronted with his own idiocy in that moment because, obviously, the only thing that mattered was Mr. Bae’s happiness. So, if this person could do that, then Hatter could make an effort to act his age rather than devolve. 

  MU-YEOL:

  “I really mean it.” He said, making eye contact with Hatter, briefly, before he had to look away to give a sleepy yawn behind his hand.  

  Mu-yeol rubbed at his tired eyes with one hand before shaking his head as if to shake out the sleepies. 

  “Aish, how can someone still be tired after sleeping thirteen plus hours. 너무 짜증나 (neomu jjajeungna), so annoying.”

  HATTER: Hatter knew he meant it, and not solely because he had been able to taste it in the food he made.  “Because the same someone isn’t taking it easy after getting the erm, Cloudies. You should listen to what your body is trying to tell you,” he said, taking another drink of his tea. Now he wished he’d had the foresight to add one of those biscuits he made for those with trouble sleeping to Mr. Bae’s plate.  “You should sleep,” Hatter insisted. “A nap won’t set you back, will it?” 

MU-YEOL:

Mu-yeol giggled. 

Actually fucking giggled. 

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just — really cute, you using fairy terms correctly.” Mu-yeol’s amusement woke him up a smidge, for a brief moment. “You’re around me too much. Next you’re going to start understanding Korean like it’s contagious.”

He sipped his tea and nodded. 

“Mm, I should. It's a bit of a walk to the Hollow, it’s real deep in the forest. Though there’s a nice comfy tree I’ve napped in before, partway to the Hollow. Its branches grew funny, like this-“ and he demonstrated with his arms, tree branches that scooped down before growing back out. “- you settle in them just right it’s like you’re a tiny dog in someone’s purse.”

This was a common thing for fairies who lived in Hollows to do, to climb into a tree and nap in it. As a child and teenager Mu-yeol would run barefoot with his friends across the mountain he grew up on, stopping on long hikes for cat naps up in a tree. Sometimes now, when he wanted to relax and not be disturbed, he’d still climb or fly up into a tree. 

“I’m fortunate my boss is a pixie too, they’re letting me take all the time off I need. But I c— anyway.” He can’t afford to miss much work, once Pixie’s reopened. He has Nemo’s school to pay for and money for Korea to save. 

HATTER: At first Hatter was a bit startled, wondering if he had said something wrong only to be let off his hook a moment later. He didn’t see what Mr. Bae had said as a bad thing. There was already so much he’d picked up from spending time with Mr. Bae, recipes and cooking techniques as well as history he never knew about, language he’d never heard before, pieces of culture. He knew there was a lot more to learn. Hopefully he’d get the chance to.  And then Hatter was annoyed all over again because why would Mr. Bae go all the way back to the Hollow if a certain someone could let him stay at theirs? Unless, they were back at the Hollow, too. That was probably more likely, actually, now that he gave it some rational thought. Which made him hesitant to suggest what he wanted to, not one to hover or press an issue when it didn’t need to be.  But after what had happened, and with Mr. Bae not looking as well as he should have been, Hatter didn’t know that he trusted Mr. Bae to be able to make it back to his home. Or the tree he was talking about. He knew the man was perfectly capable of looking after himself, as he had done so for himself and his son for years now, but still.  “Or,” he said, “you can just walk upstairs. It probably won’t be as comfortable as a purse, but I find it pretty agreeable.” 

MU-YEOL:

Mu-yeol was almost startled awake at Hatter’s offer. This felt…the act of taking a nap was so mundane, everyone did it, and he’d been upstairs so many times before. But to nap in someone’s home, that felt so…intimate. He should refuse, really.

“I-”

But he was tired.

“-wouldn’t want to impose, David. I mean– but if it’s really not a problem, um.”

He had one chance to let him take his chances with the napping tree before he took him up on it.

HATTER: As soon as it wasn’t a flat out no and Mr. Bae didn’t seem uncomfortable with it, Hatter figured it was safe to continue with the suggestion.  “You wouldn’t be. I won’t be up there until I’ve got everything around here taken care of,” he said motioning to the shoppe. “And no one else will be around. I’ve got a noise canceling charm on the place, so you shouldn’t be disturbed.”  He stood, tilting his head for Mr. Bae to stand to follow him. “I changed the sheets this morning after I got up, so everything’s clean.” A beat passed, giving him time to take inventory and for his expression to crease a little. “Aside from the sink. So, just, don’t look at that.”  That’s where all the evidence of Hatter’s emotions lay, with all the dishes he’d used while contemplating Alice leaving Swynlake and Mr. Bae’s new partner. Whoever they were. 

MU-YEOL:

Oh.

Sheets.

See, Mu-yeol thought he was accepting an offer to nap on the couch, not in Hatter’s actual bed. That was much kinder an offer than what he expected, so kind it made his cheeks warm all over again. Why? That was ridiculous, it wasn’t as if– like David said, he’d still be downstairs.

Mu-yeol grabbed the last sip of tea, then nodded.

“Okay, yeah. Um. I’ll do that, thank you.” A beat, as he made to stand up. “Oh, um. If you notice it getting close to around 4:00 and I’m not awake yet, like, hit me or something. My son will–” get ideas if he beats me home and I tell him honestly where I was. “-- well, he said he’ll be home around five.”

HATTER: Hatter nodded, taking care to glance down at the watch on his wrist to check what time it was at present, before continuing toward the back and up the stairs to his door. Inside he led Mr. Bae to the back of the flat where two doors faced one another. One was just an extra room now having used to been his sisters’ room and then Sam’s when they’d both moved out. He had contemplated keeping it as a guest room in case one of the other three needed to stay, but since Martha and Sam had children, they would never stay with him if they did stay in town and since Anna always stayed with her friend who had a yard for her dog, he’d just turned into a place where he worked on side projects for people.  The other room was his bedroom.  It was very much the same as the rest of the flat, clean but less cluttered for space than the rest. There were two filled bookshelves, both of which didn’t look anything like one another as they had been given to him by friends who didn’t want or need them any longer. There were more books in stacks on various settings, like the windowsill or atop the dresser, and one book on the nightstand next to the lamp. The bed was made and the room smelled like the fresh set of burgundy sheets that covered it. There was a quilt folded at the foot, soft and well loved.   “Bathroom’s there,” he gestured toward the other door in the room that was not the one they had just entered through. And as he had no closet, he felt it must have been obvious but wanted to point it out, just as an open invitation that all facilities of the flat were open and nothing was off limits. It was attached to the other bedroom by a door, the double sinks a testament to it being designed to share.  “If you need anything you don’t have to ask. Unless it’s something you need to ask for,” Hatter said.

MU-YEOL:

Later, Mu-yeol would have it in him to be embarrassed about this. For now, he only felt tired and an unnameable feeling he did at least identify as some form of fondness. He wondered what kind of books Hatter liked to read, and if he was high or did he really see Bang Min-ji on one of the spines of those books?

슬마 (seulma), that can’t  be right. There’s no way Hatter actually went out and bought books to read about fairies in Korea just because he suggested he read about the history. That— that was insane to even think he’d do. Mu-yeol mentioned some authors to him to show he’d also read up on the subject, that he didn’t just take one man’s teaching (his father’s) for gospel. 

Aish, he wanted to snoop his book collection now, so thrown off by that, but he was both too tired and too polite to do that.

“Got it, thank you.” Mu-yeol said, truly fighting the instinct to apologize. He smiled briefly at the well-loved quilt, wondering if it had been his mother’s, or a gift from her and always part of wherever he slept. It startled him how much he wanted to know so he looked away and quickly crawled into bed to make himself comfortable, hopefully not awake much longer.

HATTER: Mr. Bae was not mistaken. There was a stack he had accumulated on the subject, after Mr. Bae had mentioned the one book to him previously while regretting he couldn’t loan it to Hatter since it wasn’t in English. He’d taken it upon himself to find it himself, venturing over to Chapter Three for the one and coming out with a few more than that. He hadn’t said anything of course because what sort of conversation did he, a man who had nothing to do with any of it and also a sorcerer, have to contribute.  It did occur to him to go fetch a glass of water, despite having just provided a drink it only seemed polite. He walked to the kitchen, only having to step over the threshold into the area for it to have already anticipated why he was there. A tea towel was lifted onto the counter to act as a pillow for a cup to fall onto from the counter where it was then rolled toward the fridge. Hatter picked it up from there, scooping ice from the freezer and getting water from the dispenser.  When he returned to his room, he started to say that he’d be back by 4:00, only to find that Mr. Bae seemed to already be asleep. Hatter quietly walked over to the side of the bed to set the water down and glanced to Mr. Bae. It seemed as though he was asleep, and it shouldn’t have surprised him. He had been exhausted. Thankfully he had agreed to sleep there instead of trying to make it back to the Hollow.  He also noticed that Mr. Bae hadn’t disturbed the made bed and was just on top of the blanket and sheet. Hatter pulled the folded quilt up on top of Mr. Bae, covering him up to his shoulder.  It was nice, seeing Mr. Bae allowing himself the much needed rest. And also, as Hatter would only allow himself to think, for it to be in his flat. His bed. Which he knew was wrong, given the evidence that there was someone else and also that he was nothing but a friend to Mr. Bae. A privilege in itself. But he also couldn’t help the silent thought.  Then, upon realizing he had been standing there for far too long looking at Mr. Bae while he slept, Hatter was quick to retreat out of the room. He shut the bedroom door behind him, crossed to the front door, and shut that quietly, too, before heading downstairs. 

[alfrednorm]

The Best Garden Tools for Landscaping and Maintenance

Landscaping and maintaining a garden requires a specific set of tools designed to make the tasks easier and more efficient. Whether you are a professional landscaper or a passionate gardener, having the right tools can make a significant difference in the outcome of your landscaping projects. In this article, we will explore some of the best garden tools for landscaping and maintenance to help you achieve stunning results.

Lawn Mower: A high-quality lawn mower is essential for maintaining a well-manicured lawn. Choose a mower that suits the size and terrain of your lawn, whether it's a push mower, self-propelled mower, or a ride-on mower. Look for features like adjustable cutting height, mulching capabilities, and easy maneuverability.

Trimmer/Edger: A trimmer or edger is crucial for maintaining clean and crisp edges along walkways, driveways, and garden beds. Opt for a trimmer with a powerful motor, adjustable cutting height, and ergonomic design for comfortable handling.

Hedge Trimmer: Hedge trimmers are designed specifically for shaping and maintaining hedges, shrubs, and bushes. Look for a hedge trimmer with sharp blades, a comfortable grip, and adjustable cutting angles for precise trimming.

Leaf Blower: A leaf blower is a handy tool for clearing leaves, debris, and grass clippings from your lawn, driveway, and garden beds. Choose a leaf blower with adjustable speed settings and a lightweight design for ease of use.

Hand Pruners: Hand pruners are essential for trimming small branches, deadheading flowers, and shaping plants. Invest in a pair of high-quality hand pruners with sharp blades and ergonomic handles for comfortable and precise cuts.

Garden Rake: A garden rake is versatile for various landscaping tasks, including leveling soil, spreading mulch, and removing debris. Look for a durable rake with sturdy tines and a comfortable grip for efficient use.

Garden Fork: A garden fork is useful for aerating soil, turning compost, and breaking up compacted soil. Choose a fork with sturdy tines and a comfortable handle for ease of use.

Wheelbarrow: A wheelbarrow is an indispensable tool for transporting heavy materials like soil, mulch, and rocks around your garden. Opt for a wheelbarrow with a sturdy construction, comfortable handles, and a large capacity for efficient hauling.

Garden Sprayer: A garden sprayer is essential for applying fertilizers, pesticides, and herbicides to your plants. Look for a sprayer with an adjustable nozzle and a comfortable shoulder strap for easy application.

Garden Gloves: Protecting your hands while landscaping is crucial. Invest in a pair of durable and comfortable garden gloves that provide both hand protection and dexterity.

Having the right garden tools for landscaping and maintenance can greatly enhance your gardening experience and ensure beautiful results. Whether you need tools for lawn care, trimming, pruning, or general maintenance, investing in high-quality tools will save you time and effort in the long run. Consider your specific landscaping needs and choose tools that are durable, ergonomic, and suited to your gardening tasks. With these top garden tools in your collection, you'll be well-equipped to create and maintain a stunning landscape. Happy gardening!

[diamondswelding]

What Diamond S Welding & Machine Shop Deals & Offers?

Since 2003, Diamond S Welding gladly serves Eureka. Diamond S Welding strives to provide customers with the highest quality products and services. In addition to bulk welding gases, they offer feed buckets, agricultural equipment, custom machining, and other welding services.

Our variety of services sets Diamond's Welding Sets apart from other companies. In addition to high-quality trailers, hay and farm equipment, and custom machine work, Machine Shops Kansas offers reliable maintenance service for trailer repairs, hydraulic issues, and welding needs. You have come to the right place if you want high-quality products and reliable service that exceeds your expectations.

 The Amazing Products:

Diamond S Welding and Machine Shop offers premium lawn and farm equipment that is tough and durable enough to handle the most challenging jobs.

Vermeer:

Vermeer innovations enable farmers to do their jobs quickly and efficiently, from the industry's first railcar lift to the innovative round baler. These Vermeer equipment are built with longstanding high standards. These products deliver the reliable performance you expect from one of the best farm equipment manufacturers. Plus, your factory-trained Vermeer dealer provides full service and support for every piece of equipment.

Dexter:

Dexter is the leading supplier of trailer parts and accessories in the United States. The wide selection includes trailer axles, brakes, hitches, wheels, and tires. Dexter is your one-stop shop for all your towing needs across the country. Dexter is now the leading provider of premium trailer parts on the market, offering everything from RV and snowmobile trailers to farm, utility, and flatbed trailers.

 Conclusion:

Diamond S Welding & Machine Shop Deals & Offers many services and products. The Machine Shops Kansas, with reliable services, is very budget-friendly. The company is trustworthy, productive, and worthwhile in services/products like heavy-duty machines & equipment.

[klineblog]

Why Pickleball is the Fastest Growing Sport in America

Pickleball is a sport that is quickly gaining fame in the US. The game has been around for north of 50 years yet has as of late begun to take off. In this article, we will investigate why pickleball is becoming the fastest-growing sport in America.

Pickleball is a combination of tennis, badminton, and ping-pong. The game is played on a more modest court than tennis, with a lower net and an oar instead of a racket. It very well may be played as singles or copies, making it a flexible sport that can be delighted in by all ages and expertise levels.

One reason for pickleball's prominence is its openness. The game is not difficult to learn and can be played anyplace, from a lawn to a public venue. Numerous retirement networks have even constructed pickleball courts for their inhabitants, as it is a low-influence sport that is ideal for more seasoned grown-ups.

Another component contributing to pickleball's development is its social angle. The game is much of the time played in a well disposed, loosened up air, and making new companions while playing is simple. Numerous people group have shaped pickleball clubs, allowing players to associate with others who share their enthusiasm for the sport.

Pickleball is additionally a reasonable sport. The gear expected to play is somewhat inexpensive contrasted with other sports. An oar can cost somewhere in the range of $20 to $150, and a bunch of balls is a couple of dollars. This makes it an alluring choice for the people who need to get into a sport however don't have any desire to burn through truckload of cash.

As well as being open and reasonable, pickleball is likewise an incredible exercise. The game is an amazing cardiovascular exercise, and it can further develop dexterity and equilibrium. A sport can be played for a really long time without putting an excess of strain on the body, making it a number one among more seasoned grown-ups. Check over here Pickleball Today

Pickleball is likewise a profoundly serious sport. There are competitions and associations the nation over, and players of all ability levels can take an interest. The USA Pickleball Affiliation (USAPA) is the governing body of the sport in the US, and it has seen a monstrous increase in participation lately. In 2016, the USAPA had around 12,000 individuals, and by 2021 that number had developed to more than 50,000.

All in all, pickleball is a sport that is growing in notoriety in light of multiple factors. Its availability, moderateness, social viewpoint, and medical advantages make it an appealing choice for individuals of any age and expertise levels. As the sport continues to develop, it will be exciting to see where it goes later on. In the event that you haven't attempted pickleball yet, this present time is the ideal opportunity to try it out!

[sheep33hallow]

Dexter (SukunaXYuuji) 1/5

Tags: old man!Yuuji, domestic SukaIta, Sukuna Style marriage proposal, reverse chronological story telling, Sukuna has his own body.

Completed on AO3

Chapter Rating: T (Gets spicier in chapter 4)

Summary: When he was younger, he told people Sukuna was his twin, then his brother and now his grandson. At the sweet age of 83, Yuuji, with a missing arm that he lost on a mission in his 50s, sat on his rocking chair in the early morning. 

He had woken up before Sukuna, his bastard demon who has endless excuses for never leaving him even after getting his own body. You'd think as one gets older the people around them would be nicer. 

Sukuna acts the worst. 

______

When he was younger, he told people Sukuna was his twin, then his brother and now his grandson. At the sweet age of 83, Yuuji, with a missing arm that he lost on a mission in his 50s, sat on his rocking chair in the early morning. 

He had woken up before Sukuna, his bastard demon who has endless excuses for never leaving him even after getting his own body. You'd think as one gets older the people around them would be nicer. 

Sukuna acts the worst. 

The stares they get when Sukuna yells at him in the grocery stores when Yuuji wants something that goes against diet, is mind numbing. 

Yet, the item in question will end up in the house at some point. 

"Why the fuck don't you have a blanket on you?" Sukuna walks onto the porch. An afghan that Megumi's husband made for him one birthday a few years ago rested in his hand. 

He throws it at Yuuji. 

With his one arm, he's able to cover his body. 

"Better?" Yuuji goes back to rocking back and forth. 

Sukuna grunts at him. "Take better care of yourself." 

The chair squeaks with Yuuji's movements. "I will." 

+

"Sukuna." He whines. He's crouched over the dead body of their beloved pet. A small cat they found as a kitten and nursed back to health. 

Dexter was always found in the crook of Sukuna's neck when they slept. 

The stairs creak as his demon descends them. "Why are you crying? So damn loud." He says the last part to himself. 

He walks over to Dexter's bed outside the kitchen's doorway. He pauses. Looking at the old man sniffing over the creature. Sukuna doesn't waste tears over weak creatures. 

Bending down, he scoops Yuuji into his arms. The old man flays about in his hold, crying. 

Very ugly cry. 

"It's cold down there, idiot." He holds the sorcerer bridal style. Yuuji rubs his face into Sukuna's chest. The demon can feel the snot seeping through. 

Disgusting. 

"Where do you want to bury it?" Sukuna asked. 

Yuuji sniffs. "Can we cremate her?" 

Sukuna was thinking the same thing. 

"Why not just bury her and be done with it? Wasting my money on a weak creature." He looks at their pet. Thinking about the last ten years they've had her. His stupid human was resting on the couch with flu the day he found her. Somehow she ended up on their lawn crying, and instead of waiting for Sukuna to get home from the store, he went outside and picked her up. 

Sukuna had to make two doctor appointments that day. Then they had to get the house cleaned because she brought fleas with her. 

"Please." His wrinkled face pleads to Sukuna. 

He kicks the cat, just to make sure she's dead. 

She jolts up and Yuuji screams, flaying in his arms again. 

The cat blinks at them. 

Sukuna puts Yuuji down, then crouches down in front of the cat. Then claps loudly. 

It doesn't flinch. 

He looks over his shoulder, staring up at Yuuji. "She's fucking deaf." 

Yuuji smiles, and with the help of Sukuna's shoulder, sits on his shins to pet her. 

Sukuna goes into the kitchen to make breakfast. 

Another fucking day in their household. 

+

Yuuji stays in bed. 

Sukuna does too. 

They're curled together watching a true crime documentary about Gojo. He's jealous of how his teacher looks, the same bright white hair, but it's longer now. Similar to how his friend Geto wore it. 

"What are you going to do when I die?" He's half asleep, Sukuna's body runs warm. 

"You aren't." 

Yuuji laughs. "All humans die." 

"Not my human." 

"So you're claiming me now? Should have married me then." Megumi had a beautiful wedding. He was low key jealous that he'd never have that. 

"We share blood. What would marriage prove?" Dexter is curled on his neck. The overweight cat continues to think it's a kitten. 

The doctor said she was fine. Just old age. 

Yuuji shrugs. "I want to tell people I love you." 

Sukuna groans. "But I don't love you." 

"Maybe not in the human way." Mumbles Yuuji. 

Sukuna didn't have a response. 

They stay silent after that. Sukuna only leaves the bed once to make some hot cocoa for Yuuji. "Don't make a mess." He warns before putting Dexter back in her spot. 

The following morning, when Yuuji is pouring his coffee, Sukuna comes up behind him and asks a question. 

Resting his hand on Yuuji's waist. "If we get married, it'll be traditional. That western shit is an eye sore." 

Yuuji takes a sip. But backs his hips back slightly against his demon's cock. "What's the catch?" 

He laughs into Yuuji's white hair. "You haven't forgotten how to bargain." He says. "We're moving." 

Yuuji pauses. Cup still pressed against his lips. "I like the city." 

"It's too fucking loud and you barely visit the school anymore as a mentor." 

But everything is so close. Sukuna's going to want them isolated behind some fancy gate. 

"That's not fair." 

Sukuna backs up. Yuuji puts his cup down before turning around. 

"You've been wanting to get married since forever, I offered it up and now you pussy out!" He's heaving. His arms are spread wide in frustration. 

Yuuji stays calm. "I said it's not fair. That's not a no." 

Sukuna looks unconvinced. 

"I just don't want to be on a mountain. I still want to be within walking distance of a store." 

"Mountains are nice." Sukuna urges. 

"I'm old." 

"But not dead." 

Yuuji grabs his hand. "Not yet." 

"You won't." Sukuna mutters. 

Yuuji ignores him. "Let's get married in the Spring." 

Sukuna blinks at him. "I was thinking that too." 

He's being honest. 

Yuuji pulls Sukuns close. He wants a kiss since the asshole doesn't have a ring for him. "Kiss me." 

Sukuna does. He kisses his human in all the best ways. With softness, with want and with some annoyance when Yuuji ruins the moment with words. 

"You love me." He whispers against his lips. 

Sukuna grabs a handful of Yuuji's ass with both hands. "In a non-human way."

AO3

[kringelorde]

people are so excessively scared of geese smfh there’s that poll going around of “would you rather fight a pissed off raccoon with crazy eyes or a pissed off canadian goose”

like... raccoons? one of the top rabies vector, sharp teeth, tiny fucking hands that are dexterous enough to get into fucking anything and anywhere? they eat kittens. they’re persistent and intelligent. why the fuck would you ever choose that over the weenie hut jr swan that you can punt like a football and can’t reach higher than your knees efficiently. they’re not even in the same league.

I’ve been pinched in the legs by domestic geese (which are far bigger than their wild counterparts) while feeding them on the shore and I just kicked them away. they were trembling with fear the entire time anyway bc I am easily at least 2 to 3 times the height of a fully upright gander. they have necks like lawn hoses. if you can hold their wings to their body, they’re easy enough to restrain. c’mon fellas