#finished this game nearly a year ago but never finished any art of it. i made this in 2 days.. crazy for me (procrastinating)

[dieselocelot]

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh put the pussy in a scarmophogogohs

[vinelark]

6 for the ask meme 😎

6. Have you written any fanfictions featuring OCs? If so, elaborate!

oh? is it time? is it time to drop the OCBFEU primer??

in short: yes, last year my friends came up with a whole "what if we invented a boyfriend for jason" "what if we also invented a boyfriend for dick in the same continuity" batfam AU with two (and a half) significant OCs. we write little informal fics for each other about them and my incredibly talented friends draw them and we also have an extended fantasy AU of the boyfriend AU that could fill about three TV seasons of plot so far. i love them. they are constantly rotating in the back of my mind; it's a fun time.

months ago we compiled a document with bios and a rough OC bf timeline (with bonus timkon) and: here it is! (content warning for a (past) emotionally manipulative relationship. also some brief underage drinking.)

Batfamily OCBFEU (OC Boyfriend Extended Universe)

Santi

jason’s OC boyfriend; ship name sanjay

[original santi post] [mammutblog’s santi art tag] [90kon’s santi art tag]

santi, short for santiago

5’7”; has to go up on his tiptoes to kiss jason

line cook by day, taking classes toward his teaching certification by night, also volunteers at an after-school literacy program in park row

gothamite through & through—grew up a few blocks over from jason, though their paths never crossed. has two siblings, an older sister and a younger brother, but is mostly estranged from them after their dad died. money was incredibly tight after that and santi still took odd jobs—including some for the falcones—to help his sister finish med school.

an old soul like jason, aka he’ll use his same phone til it’s a brick and does not understand tiktok despite kids at the program explaining it to him over and over

there’s probably a mildly popular tiktok series one of the kids has of them asking santi questions while santi is in the middle of something at the program, because everyone loves santi and he gives funny answers when he’s distracted

santi does not become a vigilante—he has enough on his plate, he’s (almost) a teacher—but he’s certainly not without his own set of skills. also he talks a very good game and can usually get by without having to physically fight (see: confrontation with nick in the below timeline)

Blue

dick’s OC boyfriend; ship name bluebird

[original blue post] [other original blue post]

ex-talon from an alternate reality

6’5” 😳

in his original universe blue was taken as a child and turned into a talon (in this version talons have boosted strength/healing, and were conditioned/brainwashed into carrying out the court of owls’ assassinations. also golden eyes) and doesn’t remember his name anymore. once he tumbled into this universe after an assignment gone wrong, he was free of the court’s orders and re-education for the first time and started slowly unraveling their mental conditioning

he rarely speaks, and takes a while to consider his words when he does. when he texts it’s mostly emojis because he prefers them

when left to his own devices he’s very gentle and likes to bake

he had short/shaved hair as a talon. once he’s in this world he starts growing it out and prefers it long

he eventually makes an excellent crime-fighting partner for dick; he knows and understands dick’s skills enough to trust him to take care of himself, so they work very well together. that said, if you really hurt nightwing you will be reminded very quickly that blue spent most of his life as a nearly unbeatable assassin.

he eventually takes up the superhero name flamebird to go with nightwing

Nick

tim’s OC ex-boyfriend; no ship name we hate nick

nick is a GU college freshman (18 at the time) tim meets playing tennis at the local rec center while tim is avoiding the manor in the early red hood reconciliation days

at first nick definitely plays into the fact that tim desperately craves attention at this point in his life. nick is at turns overwhelmingly nice and startlingly cold, and more and more often “playfully” mocks tim, dismisses his thoughts because he’s “young” (16 at the time), etc. nick is, essentially, a jerk who, despite—or perhaps due to—being a teenager himself, does everything he can to feel superior to tim.

nick also drags tim along to parties/hangouts with his college friends so he can show off that he’s dating tim drake-wayne. other than late-night parties with his friends, though, he insists on keeping their relationship a secret.

none of the bats know about this as it’s happening; tim eventually breaks it off and pretends it never happened.

rough OCBFEU timeline

jason and santi meet while jason is still sort of on the outs with the family but not in Revenge Mode anymore. first jason meets santi as red hood, and later realizes his main apartment/civilian ID lives in the same building as santi when they run into each other in the elevator.

sanjay identity shenanigans ensue! santi is very taken with red hood. santi thinks his upstairs neighbor “uhh, call me jay” is an inconsiderate dickhead for seemingly working out/moving furniture around at 3am sometimes. seriously, how many muscles does someone need. that’s ridiculous. santi also thinks jay has a very nice smile but that’s irrelevant.

meanwhile tim meets nick at rec center and they date for a few months. it’s not a great time for tim and he eventually breaks it off.

santi starts seeing red hood more because red hood will just. appear and shadow santi when he’s walking home from work late, and helps santi out of a tight spot with some of falcone’s men at one point (we learn santi used to work for falcone a few years ago; he needed the money to put his older sister through med school. santi’s not involved with the mob anymore but the past dogs his heels sometimes). santi and red hood start hooking up, though hood still won’t show his face.

santi volunteers at an after-school literacy program (while taking night classes working toward a teaching certification). one day santi’s neighbor jay shows up to the bake sale fundraising for the after-school program, and they have a cute interaction until there’s a surprise rogue attack and the school goes on lockdown. jay disappears; red hood shows up minutes later, helping santi secure the kids before going after the rogue. red hood gets hurt and in the aftermath santi, patching him up, pieces together that red hood is his neighbor jay.

shortly after this santi gets kidnapped in public along with a random teenager (tim drake) who happened to intervene and get himself kidnapped too. the kidnappers saw santi and hood together after the rogue attack, so they’re trying to get information on hood out of santi. tim runs interference as best he can and takes a few hits as a distraction, and soon enough red hood shows up to dispatch the kidnappers. in the aftermath red hood is cold and snappish to tim (jason thinks tim was stalking santi) (to be fair, tim was) and this leads to santi learning a bit more about jason’s family. this also leads to jason breaking up with santi because it’s too dangerous (for santi) to associate with him.

santi does not agree with this decision, and there’s a lot of pining and angsting until they get their shit together over the course of another few months. coincidentally jason is reconciling with his family in the meanwhile and getting his feet under him emotionally.

once they’re together jason and santi are like. incredibly domestic. totally in rhythm with each other. somehow jason now has the healthiest most settled relationship of any bat.

meanwhile in blüdhaven, blue pops in from an alternate reality where the court of owls rules gotham. blue was taken as a child and turned into a talon; when he’s thrown into this universe, he’s free from the owls’ control for the first time. it’s a rough landing—he ends up being fished out of a dumpster by dick and even though blue runs away, he imprints hard on one dick grayson.

Tim (18 now) realizes his longtime crush on kon might be reciprocated; cue panicking.

tim lies his way into a gay club to Research (because nick always kind of mocked tim for not having dated any guys before him; tim thinks he will have one shot to not disappoint kon so he has to figure shit out). gets drunk, starts making out with someone who is not uhh handling him gently. gets spotted by jason and santi, who are there on what was supposed to be a fun date, and they intervene. at first jason is annoyed, thinking tim’s following him again, and then realizes something is Wrong. he and santi dispatch the asshole other guy, and they bring drunk tim back to crash on jason’s couch.

the next morning tim is hungover at jason’s and mortified. santi makes him sit and eat breakfast and tim is like i’m sorry, i wasn’t even following you guys this time, i swear. which leads to tim haltingly explaining the nick thing. santi and jason (who is lurking in the kitchen listening to this convo) don’t know who this ex guy is yet but they’re gonna kill him ❤️

tim’s net gain for this ill-fated excursion: one (1) splitting headache and one (1) new older brother unit.

meanwhile back in blüdhaven blue is slowly un-conditioning himself, keeping to the shadows, and leaving little gifts on dick’s windowsill. the gifts are like, keychains, a lost earring, a random postcard. all tend to be blue or have blue in them, so dick starts nicknaming this mysterious gift-giver blue.

during patrol a week later jason finds tim on a rooftop and has an awkward but earnest talk with tim about uhh. consent and healthy relationships and stuff okay yeah we’re never talking about this again but also if you ever need anything. call me right away or i’ll kill you. okay good talk.

blue gets invited inside dick’s apartment for the first time. god bless bluebird they’re in their own little world over here.

tim and kon kiss 😳

an anonymous, “scandalous” tabloid story from someone claiming to have dated tim drake-wayne drops. resulting fallout, salacious rumors abound about tim + the waynes, etc. also, obviously, bruce and the family find out about nick. jason and santi figure out who nick is and separately visit him to put the fear of god in him.

nick: what the fuck, are you with the guy from earlier? i got the message! tell that guy i’m moving to star city this fucking weekend!

red hood: what guy

nick: you know the, the guy with the earring and the tattoo and he said if i didn’t lose tim’s number and leave town i’d have an accident

red hood: huh. no, not related. so you never made a deal with me. bummer for you, i still get to break one of your arms.

(jason obviously realizes the other guy was santi so he goes home and climbs into bed where santi’s awake reading and he’s like “productive night?” and jason’s like “mmhm, and i heard you had a productive day” and santi shrugs and then jason kisses the hell out of him)

over in blüdhaven blue witnesses dick get really upset over something (this article) for the first time. dick says “i’m going to be away for a few days but you can stay here while i’m gone, okay?” (when dick returns blue isn’t there but dick’s apartment has been deep-cleaned) (this leads to dick insisting blue stay there more and more until they accidentally end up as roommates)

batfamily deals with the nick aftermath and much-needed convos are had with tim. this also brings santi more into the family fold because everyone approves of him essentially making nick shit his pants.

bruce, up to this point, has been kind of wary of santi solely because santi is NOT immediately impressed with bruce. santi sees bruce as being on thin ice until he gets proof that bruce is in fact doing his best as a parent and then they have a slightly more chill dynamic.

meanwhile in gotham, mid family crisis, dick is having his own crisis/rooftop breakdown with tim and jason about having feelings for blue and going through his gay awakening at the ripe age of 20something and jason is very upset that he has somehow become the to-go gay relationship advice sibling.

because yeah, between dick and jason, JASON’s relationship is the more normal/aspirational one for tim looking for like queer mentors. bluebird is great and perfect for them obviously but they are not a blueprint for anyone else.

dick: [sitting on blue’s shoulder after describing how blue wooed him with random tchotchkes on his windowsill and then moved into a corner of his living room for a month and—] anyway do as i say not as i do

dick literally let a secret organization-trained slightly undead assassin into his house for fun bc he got like a few cool rocks as a gift

if tim asked dick for advice dick would be like “oh shit you like-like him? i just thought you were really touchy friends”

no one should ask bruce for advice, ever

so here jason is, somehow the most stable gay of the family

by the time damian appears with his first crush jason is like [sighs] [gets out the powerpoint]

timkon officially get together!

aaaand then months later dick shows up to family dinner with a giant ex-talon in tow like “heyyyyy guys, so guess what—”

there are also plenty of fun post-timeline adventures like “blue and santi get kidnapped together to target nightwing and red hood; kidnappers regret this almost immediately” and “tim takes blue on restaurant adventures because blue really likes fancy food; one day they run into nick who says something nasty about tim and blue breaks nick’s wrist (tim’s net gain: another older brother unit)” and “santi is frantically trying to catch the bus one night and steps on one of poison ivy’s vines—whoops, it’s sex pollen; santi gets introduced to PAID forms” or, alternately, “jason gets hit with the poison ivy special and that’s how santi finds out he’s on jason’s PAID form” and “bruce and blue surprisingly get along very well and trade sparring tips (meanwhile, bruce is trying so hard to get santi to tolerate him and it’s slow going)” and also “dick realizes everyone else in the world knew he and blue were dating and in love six months before he did.”

extra content:

santi, blue, and kon end up in a robin bf support group gc. one day kon gets added to a group chat that’s just like [(372)846-XXXX and (124)234-XXXX has added you to a group chat] and nothing happens there for like 2 hours he’s just like 

kon: ?

kon: hello?

kon: is this spam? is there such a thing as spam gcs?

kon: am i getting blackmailed

kon: how did you get this number??

(blue added kon while santi is in school)

the gc also ends up nonstop unintentional comedy due to their communication styles. kon’s gen z (👍 = declaration of war) and santi is technologically elder millennial/boomer (thought 🙂 was a normal smiley until corrected)—but blue is none of the above. blue knows the nuances of every emoji but has no social rules for using them. he’s an emoji artist. he is unbound.

from @90kon, in a version of the timeline where santi hasn’t seen jason’s face/doesn’t know his name before their sort-of breakup:

after their not-yet-together-break-up they should have an argument. like santi confronts jason about him saying he doesn’t want this thing between them to go on but wont give santi an honest answer but also keeps lurking and santi cant move on like that. bc either he’s done with him or he’s not. and umm yeah jason is not rly saying much but eventually santi is like alright. just tell me this: do you want this or not? forget about everything else…do you want me? and santi barely has time to finish his question before jason says yes. in a tight voice. i want you so much it scares the shit out of me. and ummm well eventually santi is like look. you can have me. but i have conditions.

and he’s like. whatever idk uhh don’t lurk out my window unless you’re gonna come in. dont investigate me; if you want to know something, just ask. at the end he should say "and i need a name. it doesn't have to be your full name or anything, but i need to call you something other than red." and jason is quiet for so long santi sighs and is like. "yeah i didn’t actually think that one was gonna fly. whatever, forget i said--" and jason says "jay." like it just slips out of him. and santi stills, looks at him, and from the way jason said it he somehow knows it's real. it could be short for any number of names but it's real. so he repeats it. "jay."

family game night from @mammutblog:

collected OCBFEU tag

[OC boyfriends created in a lab by @90kon, @mammutblog, @cairoscene, @vinelark, @feyburner, @bluecrystalrainingdaggers!]

[winchester-girl67]

Wild Hearts (Part 5) - Six Years After Dean Left

Summary: It's been nearly six years since Dean and the reader became friends. Now that they finally have a chance to reunite he's desperately hoping for a chance at the love they denied themselves in the past. 

Masterlist

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader 

Square: “All I wanted was a happy ending.” 

Word Count: 3,137 

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21-22, Dean is 26-27), time jump, mentions of physical abuse by a parent/violence/death, pining, a hint of jealousy, protective!Dean, kissing/cuddling, fluffy fluff fluff 

A/N: These two are adorably irresistible together. Ultimately decided to post the rest of this series in the order I wrote it because I feel it reads better. 

_____ 

Six years after Dean left. 

The town you once thought would never feel like home had grown on you since Dean. That’s how you thought of him, as if Dean was a fixture in time, in your past; a turning point. And he was. So you hadn’t stayed in hopes of his return, it had been six years after all since he left. You stayed because it was home. 

Your brother eventually moved to the city, with that blonde you thought it would never work out with, and now you saw him on weekends when they dropped by for dinner and a day at the beach. They didn't have any plans for getting married or having kids though, and that was fine, they were just young and in love, or lust depending on who you asked.

You still lived at home for the time being to save money while you commuted to finish off your final year of college. You liked life by the beach. It was simple and though it could get crowded with tourists in the summer months, you wouldn't trade it for the bustling city life.

Summers were spent working with Cas at his local art gallery. He needed help during the busy season and he lacked the people skills he needed to sell his creations. His family had helped him acquire the place since they were well off and you were pleasantly surprised at his handiwork. He turned out the most beautiful carvings and sculptures from driftwood and found objects he'd picked up from the beach.

You didn't regret taking a gap year to figure out what you wanted to study and you settled on a degree in Business. In your spare time, you volunteered at the youth group in town that you and Benny organized together. He had been all in when you proposed the idea to him and you both wanted to create a safe place for kids -both like and unlike Sam and Dean- to go to for support. Even if that just meant playing board games, making crafts, or taking them sand surfing for an afternoon so they'd have a place to go where they wouldn't get into trouble.

Dean was pretty proud of you when you told him about it and promised to visit back in February. But he never made it out and you lost contact for a bit after that. You guessed life got in the way, but it made you a little sad.

You still loved getting his postcards though and had been on the tips of your toes ever since the latest one arrived a couple months ago. He'd written that he was 'coming home' and 'soon' but he didn't say when. So when your mom handed you a postcard that afternoon, you nearly leapt out of your skin.

There was no stamp so you figured he had hand delivered it and he'd written, '...meet me under our streetlamp...' your heart beat so fast it felt as though it would fly away if it wasn't held in by your ribcage.

You had bought a new dress in the hopes of seeing him after his last postcard and rushed into your room to throw it on. Every time he'd seen you was in jeans and boxy t-shirts and even though you knew he didn't care, you wanted to look nice.

Sure it was a little chilly outside, but the length of the dress reached your ankles and you wore leggings underneath, a light jean jacket overtop and sneakers, because heels take balance. Which you didn't have. Then with a glance in the mirror, you dashed out the door towards your truck, still the same ridiculous burnt orange colour as the day you got it. 

You pulled into the empty parking lot of the pier, instantly spotting the mint-condition, shiny black Impala. You parked beside Baby, but Dean wasn’t in the driver’s seat and the engine was cold when you hopped out of your truck and felt the hood with your palm. You peered inside, not a single takeout bag or ketchup packet in sight. Not that he didn't eat that type of food but he kept her tidy like she deserved. 

Backing away from Baby you noted her brand new-old headlight and the lack of dents in the front bumper. Dean must've finally found those parts he was checking every salvage yard for. 

You turned on your heel and glanced down the lot, spying Donna’s ice cream shop; it was around the same time of year you met Dean which meant the shops would be closing soon for the winter. You smiled and looked across to the bench that sat under the streetlamp. Your spot from that night six years ago. 

A man sat on the bench staring out at the horizon as a sailboat headed towards the harbour in the distance. He turned his gaze as though he felt your eyes on him and squinted, then stood up.

You thought you'd recognize Dean anywhere, but you couldn't remember the last time you video chatted and when you had, the connection was too fuzzy to see anything other than frozen pixels. You stepped slowly towards the man, giving him a squint of your own eyes and tilting your head. Mirroring him when he smiled.

"Y/N?" He called over the distance and you'd recognize that deep voice anywhere. Dean. 

You ran towards him with a beaming smile and jumped into his arms, knocking him back a step. His hands clutched your waist and he lifted you and spun you around as he laughed.

"I almost didn't recognize you. Are you wearing a dress?" Dean chuckled and set you on your feet.

Your cheeks burned, "Well, I remember you were a big fan of the skirt." You teased him about the time he saw you in your school uniform and his cheeks burned just as red. "What's this?" You brushed his jawline with your fingertips, feeling the stubble against your skin.

Dean's neck flushed under your touch, "Uh, yeah. I probably should've shaved again before I came here but I didn't want to take a chance at missing you."

"I dunno, I think it kinda suits you," you shrugged, unable to keep your smirk to yourself. "Your beard was practically nonexistent when we met."

"I don't think you wanna talk about things that were practically nonexistent when we met." His eyes dropped to your chest for half a second.

You gasped and shoved him in the shoulder and he burst out laughing. You couldn't help but notice the natural tone in his muscles and how much broader he'd gotten.

"You grew up." You squeezed Dean's shoulders, barely able to get your hands around them now. 

"I should be saying that about you." He sucked his lip as he looked you over. "Seriously, though. Did you get taller?" 

"Yeah, sure. Let's call it taller," but you knew what he really meant. You grew into your body and you owned it now even if you still dressed like you were a sixteen-year-old tomboy most days, but you weren't afraid to throw on a dress every now and again for special occasions, like today. 

It was a bit of a gloomy day but there was enough warmth in the way he looked at you that you didn't care.

You grabbed his hand and tugged him to sit on the bench with you. "I missed you."

"We text almost everyday, Y/N." He smiled. "And talk as much as possible."

"Not for a while now. You kind of ghosted me after Valentine's day." You said, still holding his hand and playing with his fingers between yours. "I should be more mad at you, but I missed you too much, I couldn't not come meet you if I tried."

"It wasn't fair to you," he squeezed your fingers in his, "I’m sorry, Y/N. If it’s any consolation, I missed you every minute.” He bit his bottom lip like he did often. "But we both know we couldn’t be together back then-”

“All I wanted was a happy ending for you, Dean." You cut him off and waved your hand. "And Sam, and you guys have that now, in California. I'm so happy for you."

"Yeah," he breathed and brushed his hair back, not that he needed to, it was much shorter now. "About that. I'm not going back." You dropped your jaw and pushed your brows together. "With my father gone, there's really no reason to stay away anymore," he grabbed your hand and clutched it to his chest, "And every reason in the world to stay right here."

"But won't you miss Sam?"

"Of course, but he has Jess now and he doesn't need me anymore. I think for once in my life, I'm going to do something completely selfish and, despite some painful memories, I've always loved this town. It's where my mother grew up and had my brother and me. She taught me to ride my bike on this pier, I have the scar on my knee to prove it and I taught Sammy four years later. My friends are here, you're here. I don't think I need much more of a reason than that."

You stared at him and opened your mouth, then closed it, speechless, and he smiled.

"Y/N, when I picture myself happy, it's with you. In this town, with this ocean and that ice cream," he pointed to Donna's across from where you sat on the bench. "I wanna settle down, have a family with you; raise our kids in a house that's a home and have a happy little existence with my dream girl by my side."

"I'm your dream girl?" You blinked up at him.

"You've been starring in my dreams for longer than I care to admit. And now here we are. Same spot as the first night we met. Sam is safe and I don't have to deal with my prick of a father anymore. You're almost twenty-two, I'm twenty-six and the five years between us is just that."

"Um, Dean..." you bit the inside of your cheek and he deflated.

"You're with someone, aren't you?" He asked and you nodded twice, trying to hide a smirk. "That makes sense. You're beautiful and smart and strong and I never had a chance. The timing is always gonna be wrong for us and I shouldn't have expected-" He sighed and rubbed his knuckles like they were split, but this time they weren't. "He better treat you right."

"I love you."

"Huh?" His green eyes flicked up to meet yours and you let the smirk take over.

"I love you." You repeated.

"I don't think your boyfriend would appreciate that, Y/N." He shook his head, his breath heavy.

"Oh, I don't think he'll mind." You leaned into him and let your lips connect in a quick kiss. Dean was so stunned he didn't move and you whispered, "In case you didn't catch on, I'm talking about you."

He bit his lip and laughed silently. "I think you made that painfully obvious, sweetheart. But, way to give a guy a heart attack."

You didn't set out to wait for Dean, but you weren't about to settle for any less either. And keeping in touch over the years kept those feelings alive; like feeding fuel to a flame and you could feel the fire in your belly.

You kissed him again, "You made me wait."

"It wasn't easy for me either," he cupped your cheek and brushed your skin with the pad of his thumb. "And I love you, too, Y/N, more than you’ll ever know.” 

He wet his lips and pressed them to yours. The heat from his mouth warming your skin and his hand tangling in your hair. It wasn't your first kiss with Dean but somehow, it felt like it was. It was the beginning of something real, with nothing to hold you back and keep you away from each other.

A butterfly sprung to life from the fires in your stomach and you drew back, "So, what now?"

"What do you mean?" He brushed your hair behind your ear.

"What happens now? Do you move into your father's old house?" You asked.

It had been sitting empty since him and Sam left and now that John was dead, everything was in their names. It wasn't something that Dean ever wanted to talk about but you'd found out that John finally picked a fight with someone big enough to fight back. 

"I'll burn it to the ground before I move back there." He almost laughed though he was completely serious. You couldn't imagine the painful memories that place held for him; they overpowered anything nice their mother had been a part of creating there. You couldn't blame him for not wanting to go back. "Cas and Benny said I could stay with them, they have a spare room and it'll give me time to sell off the house and find a place of my own. And maybe if I'm lucky, by then I won't have to move in alone?" He cocked an eyebrow at you that held a thousand questions.

"That depends," you sighed and glanced away from him, then back.

"On?" He smiled, knowing you were teasing him again.

"Whether you snore when you sleep, duh." You rolled your eyes playfully.

"I'll buy you earplugs." He kissed your cheek, then your lips.

_____

Four months after Dean came back.

It was cold outside, freezing actually and snowing heavily. If this wasn’t the last of the boxes, you and Dean would’ve waited to bring in the rest. You plopped down onto the floor in the living room amongst the many other stacked boxes. You’d accumulated more than you thought over the past few years, but you didn’t think it was that much until now. Dean set his box on top of the others and ignored it when they started to lean, opting to lie next to you on the floor and risk getting crushed by cardboard and clothing instead.

He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. He gazed at you and reached out to brush the snow from your eyelashes.

You closed your eyes.

It was a cute little two story house that Dean had found with a wraparound porch, no walkway, and a big backyard. The house itself needed a lot of work, Dean saw nothing but potential and thought it was a steal. You had to agree and you weren't opposed to rolling your sleeves up and putting a little elbow grease into the place you would eventually call home. 

When he first told you that your dad had helped him get a job in mechanics at Sandover Bridge and Iron, you were surprised to say the least. You always said you would never date a man whose job took precedence when it didn’t need to and you worried Dean would overwork himself to prove his worth to your father. But your father had figured out his work-life balance since you were a teenager and if he could do it then so could Dean; so you made an exception as if it was ever an option to walk away. Besides Dean always made it home for dinner and honestly without him, your new home together would just be a house. 

What you had with him only came around once in a lifetime, you knew because you never felt the same about anyone else. Not even close. 

You opened your eyes. 

Dean looked at you like he could see your whole future together. Like nothing could tear you apart. And nothing would because you would never give up on each other.

"What are you thinking?" You asked even though you were pretty sure you already knew.

"That it's midnight and we'll very likely be snowed in by morning," he leaned over you and you felt his weight as he kissed you. "And we don't have a shovel."

"Benny could come dig us out," you breathed and he pressed his forehead to yours. "He owes you for fixing up his Jeep anyways."

"Mm," his lips brushed over yours, "I can't believe he still has that thing. Too bad we don't have a way of calling him, though."

"What are you talking about? I have my phone right here," you pulled your cell from your pocket but Dean took it and tossed it out of reach.

"Oops, guess we'll just have to stay stranded." He smirked and you laughed as he pecked kisses to your cheeks, squirming when his lips reached your neck, "Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart."

You opened your mouth to speak but he silenced you with a kiss until you were breathless, then he started working over your neck with his tongue. You giggled and laughed until you twisted out from under him with a red spot on your pulse point. 

This moment was perfect with him, but incomplete. There was only one thing missing to make it feel like home.

"Which box is the hammer in?"

"I think that one," he pointed to the box near the doorway, "Why?"

You pushed on his chest when he tried to kiss you again and he rolled off you, watching you curiously. You jumped up and dug around in the box until you found it and a nail, then grabbed the framed photograph you'd set aside in a box of breakables. He sat up and smiled when he recognized the frame.

It was the gift he'd given you before he left six years ago. The selfie of the two of you during your day of sand surfing. It was the first thing you'd hung on your wall back home and you wanted it to be the first thing you hung up in this house, too. Your home with Dean.

Over the years, you went from loving that photograph to hating it and back to loving it. You knew it was contingent on the way you were feeling about Dean at those times, but you never took it down. Until he asked you to move in with him, then it was the first thing you packed.

You curled your finger at him and he followed you into the master bedroom. You hung the photograph on the wall and dropped the hammer when Dean wrapped his arms around you from behind, swaying you back and forth; he smiled as brightly as he did the moment the photo was captured. 

Dean looked at the photograph with you and dropped his chin to your shoulder. 

"Love you," he kissed your cheek. "You make me stupidly happy, do you know that?" He kissed your neck, making you giggle.

"You make me stupidly happy, too."

_________________________

Part 6

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

Wild Hearts: @justrealizedimmascifygurl @evieluvsjamie @kimberkingrivers @vicmc624 @ladysparkles78

[nattravn-art]

In regards to these news, I'd like to precise that I've opted out of "third party sharing" (AI scraping) on this blog, my main @nattravn-stuff and my other secondaries.

I'm no big artist, but I still do not want my work to be used for AI purposes.

Following is personal feelings. The TL;DR is: I don't think I'll keep posting my personal art on tumblr/my socials any longer. That doesn't include zines/promo art and occasional fanart.

Quite frankly, it hurts and I'm tired of this all.

Drawing has always been a way for me to express myself and share what I love, drawing characters I love whether it's mine or other people's, whether it's fandom characters or OCs. However since a couple of years now, I've gradually lost the joy of sharing it on social sites, hence why I've posted less and less here.

I know I briefly mentioned it before but my mental health is not always the best, to put it simply, it never really was. Nearly two decades ago, finding online art communities was a lifesaver. First it was on forums. Then, after a wrecking art school year, I'd promised myself I would never draw again. I did pick up a pencil after a bit of not drawing due to OCs and fandom characters. Despite my art being bad at the time, I joined Deviantart. I'd found a community full of fantastic people there, and this community encouraged me to draw more of what I loved and post it online. I don't know where I would be artistically nowadays, or if I would still be drawing at all, if it wasn't for this community. Then I'd found tumblr, which was a fun way for me to share art among other things. DA was about to decline so I just stayed on tumblr, even if there was less engagement there for me aside on some specific fanart pieces.

I never was a popular artist and honestly, I didn't intend to be one. I just drew what I loved and appreciated the engagement. During DA days, I used to be more excited to share my stuff with the world than drawing, then the joy became equal between creating and sharing. That source of joy started vanishing for me, and it has affected my art. It affected it first because it felt that art only became "content" to be "consumed", it felt that it lost its personality and meaning. Then AI generated "art" and "artists" happened and it feels that it finished killing that joy for me. Today's news was the last nail in the coffin.

Not is all negative thought. Over the past year, I feel that I started regaining joy creating by telling myself that I don't need to share my art. It feels kind of stupid to type that tbh, but making art had been so tied to posting it online to me that I'd almost.. forgotten that. I started liking drawing for myself again. I started liking getting an idea and figuring how to express it visually again, even though the process could be so frustrating... I guess these are pretty words for me to just say "I love OCs and characters and want to draw my, my spouse's, my friends' and strangers' brains blorbos and the blorbos from my games too. I'm not sure I enjoy posting them on socials though."

All this to say that I've come to terms that I don't think I want to post my personal art on tumblr/my socials any longer, as long as it doesn't bring me joy. I will continue drawing and partaking zines and art events that bring me joy (such as Art Fight, or art challenges). I will also share art for promotional purposes + and I may post occasional fanarts if my brain gets in hyperfocus.

Eventually, if you're here reading this and liked seeing my personal art on your dash, I'm sorry and I hope you understand.

PS: if we're mutuals and you're on TH, shoot me a message I'd love to see you there!

[netherworldpost]

these aren't based on true stories or anything

I like how I am one part:

continuing studies writing and art professor who you aren't sure is even employed by the school, looks like I just showed up one day and started rambling

on some level you're kinda wondering if I am employed at all because I am well put together but in a "chaotic well put together" way

one part:

your "gothy friend in college a dozen autumns ago, we haven't spoken in years, and now you're getting married -- do you still have my address? Might be inappropriate to send, Life has most assuredly moved on and things are not nearly as chaotic as they were Back In The Days of your misspent youth.

But I show up at your wedding anyway somehow, wearing something tasteful but out of sync with the current fashion. Or. Any era in fashion. To be honest.

I raise a glass of lemon soda pop to you, from the back of the room, are you even serving lemon soda pop you wonder, we don't speak, you can't find me later, seriously did I bring my own beverage, I've left you a small lime green attache case full of $20 bills on the gift table.

The attache case is objectively an eye-seering color. You remember it is one of my favorite colors.

Your 'thank you' card returns to you 'addressee not found.' We never speak again. You cannot find me on social media with the names you knew.

one part:

Ruthless, almost to the point of savage, in business.

But not in large stakes -- not real estate deals or finances or mergers or business acquisitions. In things like, "I want to develop a family tree and rule book of succession in my vampire role playing game with my rich friends, we are about to wrap up our current campaign and I want to prepare the next."

And I write out, "I want $X as well as the DVD box set of Beetlejuice, you to pay for this list of prototypes for my emerging zine company, seven apples (honey crisp or better), three lemons (ripe), and a twelve pack of root beer."

And they say "I was thinking more like $--"

Before they can finish, I take back my estimate and every time they argue I add another color under a new heading of "nail polish."

They pause and ask, "Why are you doing this," and then I look them dead in the eye and say sotto voce, "Because I know. Everything."

And an observer may think "oh wait this is blackmail, the client is having an affair or something"

But the truth of the matter is, I know in the current RPG game, they are playing a secretly evil character that is robbing their fellow adventurers, a turn in play that won't be revealed for several sessions, with a yet-determined outcome.

I'm working for the DM and at least three other players in the group of rich friends playing high stakes D&D.

I can make things very difficult for them.

They stop negotiating and agree to the terms.

and from experience I know at least one person reading this will be like:

[veebs-hates-video-games]

I should really listen to myself and stop trying to play the older Fire Emblem games or remakes of them, because they're clearly not my thing.

viBRAToryblurriness: First impressions of Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon, the DS remake of the very first game: it has zero charm and feels like a SNES game (derogatory) viBRAToryblurriness: Like not like a good one, like one of the mediocre ones you'd rent because it looked vaguely interesting from the box and then be stuck with it for a few days despite it not being particularly good, and now you know why it was still on the shelf and the one you were looking for wasn't viBRAToryblurriness: Yeah my Reddit dude, extremely bland dialogue in faux archaic English and character/place names that look like keysmashes are totally Shakespearian viBRAToryblurriness: I don't know how they basically traveled back in time a full decade in terms of presentation compared to the GBA games viBRAToryblurriness: The pixel art is mediocre at best bordering on bad, and the animations really are as bad as everyone said they are, which is a shame because the GBA ones had so much personality

For context, someone on Reddit recently was complaining about modern Fire Emblem and how Awakening is a dating sim and older games were Shakespearian. This is extremely funny to me both because they clearly have never read/seen any actual Shakespeare and because pairing up units for marriage/making child units originated way back on the SNES in Genealogy of the Holy War (or I guess Super Famicom since it never made it out of Japan).

At least in SoV I really liked the characters and art style and overall presentation pretty much immediately, and that kept me going into act 4 even if I wasn't really enjoying the gameplay that much, but after nearly an hour of this one I'm not into basically any of it. It's done pretty much nothing to win me over so far.

Should I go finally finish Path of Radiance already (which I technically never quite have even though I started playing it for the first time ~18 years ago) or just replay Engage? Yes, almost definitely. Will I actually go do that instead of continuing to subject myself to stuff I'm not enjoying? Eventually I hope, but apparently not quite yet.

[late-to-the-fandom]

which obscure Media would u recommend to another empty fandom collector such as yourself?

You ask an intriguing question! I mean, there is so just so much to choose from and I have no idea where your interests lie to guide you better. So here are all the tiny fandoms I am proud to have been too late to join or remain the only member of (in a variety of media):

-The Engineer Trilogy is a book series by KJ Parker that has, as far I know, no fandom at all. It’s just me and a thousand fic ideas I will never really finish because no one will ever read them. Which is a shame because the series really lends itself to fanfiction (literally every single character is a poor little meow meow). But despite having no fandom, these books are probably objectively some of the best, most ambitious books ever written and the reason I maintain that the best books are never appreciated in their time.

-Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke is the other best book of all time that I can’t get anyone to read because they’re just not ready. It at least has a small fandom because they made a BBC miniseries of it a few years ago that was actually quite decent and had the added benefit of casting some very attractive actors. Definitely worth a watch and if you like it, 100% worth the read (this book is my Bible)

-Laurie R. King, the Patron Saint of fanfiction, whose Sherlock Holmes and Mary Russell series survived the great Mary Sue hate of the late 90s early 00s, and who is actually a wonderful author in her own right. She used to have her own very small fandom site where people posted fanfiction and art but not nearly enough and it’s not active (at least that I can tell; I came in - you guessed it - late)

-Deadwood, that will always be one million times better than Game of Thrones to me, never had the fandom Ian McShane it deserved. Again, late so idk if there was a lot going on for it at the time but it certainly didn’t leave behind much fanfic for us stragglers

-Labyrinth, which I hesitate to include here because its not obscure and truly does have an insane amount of fanfiction but its fandom is mostly old (like me) and inactive (tell me I’m wrong and point me in the right direction!). Probably because the movie isn’t very popular anymore. However, it’s a great example of a tiny half-dead fandom with more fanfiction than it knows what to do with (even I haven’t read through it all).

-Watchmen (the graphic novel, NOT the new series). This did get a nice little surge of fans with the movie that came out and was probably the only time in my life I was there waiting for it. Ah the glory days of soaking up Rorschach/Night Owl fanfics on the ground as they came out… but it’s dead now, the book very close to cancelled and the fans mostly in hiding. There’s still a good bit of great fic out there if you love angsty slash pairings

-and last but not least, if you’re interested in random fandom-light video games, I can recommend several World of Warcraft fanfics that are absolutely lovely (and only some of them are mine 😅). I write for one minor-ish character in a now out-of-date expansion, as do @shipping-through-eternity and @mousterian-writes and @mysdrym to name a few. But all of it is lovely in their own different styles and genres, so if you have need of a dying video game fandom in your life I highly recommend!

Let me know if any of that helps, or if you have any recommendations of your own!

[sun-marie]

"People you'd like to know better"

tag game!

I was tagged by @jespardon! Thank you for the tag, words are not really coming to me today so I apologize if this seems kinda clunky 😅

three ships : 

Gale/Tav (BG3): I’m so sorry but this pairing has me in a vice grip 😭❤ The way it just feels so organic!! And it’s so wholesome!! Like watching Zephyr (my tav) and Gale fall in love in the first two acts is simultaneously adorable and heart wrenching, and then watching them stay together through everything in act 3 is just so *clenches fist* so good!! I feel like all I do is talk about them nowadays lol

Shepard/Kaidan (ME): I’ve been thinking a lot about Kaidan recently, and good lord I love his character so much. I’m learning that I’m a big fan of relationships with a breakup or some kind of separation in the middle, only to come back with twice the devotion (fenhawke is another good example). I wasn’t here when those games were coming out since I’ve only played the LE, so I have no idea how the fandom at large see him, but his relationship with Shepard is by far the best part of ME3 for me ❤

Felix/Annette (FE3H): The ultimate comfort ship for me ❤ I love how Annette brings out Felix’s softer side, and I love how smitten he is with her. Opposites attract pairings aren’t usually my cup of tea bc I feel like it’s too easy to write two people who are just incompatible, but these two really benefit from the five year timeskip and the chance to grow with each other (even if they’re physically apart). Idk if that makes any sense, but even despite the fact that it’s been a very long time since I’ve played 3H I still get all warm and fuzzy when I see art of them or read a really good fic about them.

last film :

So I found out recently that my mom had never watched Dreamworks’ “Prince of Egypt” (which was a lie bc she definitely showed it to me as a small child and just didn’t remember), so we sat down together for an afternoon and watched it. I had forgotten how good that movie is, even if some scenes hit particularly hard due to *gestures vaguely* everything. Still to this day my favorite depiction of Moses’s story <3

currently watching :

So not technically watching currently bc I finished it a few days ago, but “Blue Eye Samurai” on Netflix 👀 I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, and at the same time I have no idea how to feel about it lol. I’m a weenie so the sex and violence was a bit much for me, but the setting and the story are so interesting, and the characters are SUPER interesting. It’s been a long time since I’ve fallen for a protagonist as hard as Mizu 💙 It almost got too much for me and I nearly dropped it, but then there was that scene with Fowler in the “church” and I was like "oh? Oh so this guy’s like evil evil? to the core? Fascinating 👀👀👀" And I stuck it out til the end! I’m glad I did, it was 100% worth it, even if I had to watch most of it through my fingers lmao.

currently reading :

I am not a huge reader, unfortunately 😅  But for my English class we just finished reading “Passing” by Nella Larsen, which I enjoyed! I don’t feel I have much to add about it, and even if I did I doubt there’d be a ton of value in the 72456456th white person throwing in their two cents on how people of color deal with the racial structure in America

currently consuming :

Baldur’s Gate 3

Coral Island

Way too much sugar (send help)(my tummy hurts)

currently craving :

Mass Effect 2

P*zza H*t thin crust Hamburger Pizza

Sopapilla Cheesecake (my main contribution to the Thanksgiving table, I'm so excited!!)

Tagging @full---ofstarlight @beyondthetower and @thefife01 ! No pressure at all tho if y'all don't feel like it 😊

[sunset-a-story]

⛳ and ⏸️ for the plot ask game, if you please.

Thanks for the ask! :)

⛳️Talk through a plothole that you’re struggling with. 

So 25 babies were generated that were all supposed to have the knack of Probability Manipulation. A backup knack was coded into each of them because they've never been able to generate Probability Manips so chances were high that would fail, in which case the backup knack would take over.

Three of the babies ended up with a knack that was NOT the intended backup knack and no one can figure out why. I have the knack pair for Alex and Anise set. All good.

Scott? pjtinfswhasfksndfjh I am struggling. The knack he didn't end up having will ~be important~ later to address a spoiler that really needs addressing except I haven't figured out how it will interact with this spoiler. I'd love to just figure it out later but his backup knack is explicitly named in the first arc so I don't want to just throw a placeholder knack in here and then retcon it when I get my shit together.

I'm beating myself at chess right now but not in the way that I enjoy.

⏸Describe the plot of a WIP you abandoned or put on the backburner and what about it wasn’t working. 

Okay. I'm exposing my level of obsession here, but I'm going to answer honestly.

I don't have a WIP that I've abandoned that I can remember. We've been working on Sunset exclusively for something like 16 years now.

It was mostly a lot of brainstorming, outlining, working things out, note-carding, putting random drabbles or strings of scenes down, reworking or ditching them for a while, and flip-flopping with whether it was a graphic novel, set of novels, or a serial. I really put my head down and started writing it 6 years ago. We've got about 880 pages of beta-ready stuff (arc 1 & 2) and probably another 300 pages in draft 1 as I'm slogging through this complicated arc 3.

But I haven't written anything else in any of that time. It was Sunset or nothing. This beast of too many threads slowly crashing into each other is our obsession. It's the subject of nearly all my partner's art. It's got its teeth in us and it's not letting go until it's finished. Someone I love once called it our life's work and while that sounds pretty dramatic I also don't think he was wrong.

So, yeah. That probably says some positive things and some negative things about me/us and our sanity but that's my honest answer.

Thanks again!

(creator of the ask game: @kjscottwrites)

[talenlee]

April 2023 Wrapup

April 2023 Wrapup

It’s a weird relief when a theme month end. Sometimes a theme month is so jammed that I’m glad to have the freedom to post any old stuff I want. Sometimes a theme is so challenging to work with (like, say, romance), that I kind feel like the last few posts are scraping off a very hard surface. Now, I thought that it’d be really easy to make make 30 posts that are mostly just about me, or special, deeply intense interests.

This month did not go as planned.

First of all, the Game Pile. I knew I wanted to cover two of these topics a year out. I knew that when I had ten years behind me, I wanted to review how I treated Bioshock Infinite, an aggressively mid game that, as a work of true art, reflected its culture and values perfectly, in that we all kind of sucked (which was a point I made about Duke Nukem 3D, too). I knew I wanted to make a video out of my article on Volume, partly because I like Volume a lot, partly to make it more shareable to a friend who likes my videos, and also, because Volume has only gotten more interesting with time.

I revisited Dishonored, because I know I love Dishonored, and that meant finding a new thing to talk about, and led to a video on the The Dishonored TTRPG, which I found interesting and engaging and it gave me some solid material to pull apart and explain. Then finally, I had to bring in at least something new this month, and that led me to stumble down an old road looking for creative work I engaged with a long time ago, something that’s been on my mind a lot (for some reason), and that brought me to the article on the Original Starcraft, but really just the map editor.

It’s funny how many RTSes I ‘love’ that I have never finished.

Then we move on to the Story Pile. Again, I had plans ahead of time. I set myself a rule that I had to finish Gideon The Ninth by my birthday. I don’t read enough, I told myself, so I’m going to try out this thing that means a lot to my friends and has that giant looming asterisk over it. I put that off until early April and then I finally read it and man it was great, and then I had to grapple with that asterisk. I’d also set out ahead how I wanted to talk about Lycoris Recoil, as how even a fairly modest fun anime has deep stuff to crunch away on that I find interesting. I also wanted to talk about Unseen Academicals, because it’s an old favourite of mine and it’s about games and about queers taking care of one another and it’s also about being a wonked up monster who has to learn how to be a person.

And I thought I’d have another slot, maybe for a movie I liked or a TV show that I’d enjoy and Summer Time Rendering came out of nearly nowhere and poleaxed me and the anime with a hot lady with a big hammer made me go ‘oh yeah I’ll check that out’ and then I blew through it in three days because it’s so good and well okay, now I had to fill in a slot there in April.

Basically, I had two things I’d never seen before April that became two of my favourite things in April. That’s pretty rare for me!

What about other articles that you might wanna check out, built on my particular interests? I talked about the Confederacy’s currency, and how much a bunch of awful people who sucked ass were bad at even making themselves look cool. I wrote two pieces on the Beastfolk of Cobrin’Seil, because we love furry animal people and we love spaces where they get to hang out and it doesn’t have to be weird. I also did another D&D-based two-parter, on the idea of the Warlock and the Paladin’s relationships to power, and while on the topic of D&D, I wrote about the Epic Level Handbook’s monsters, trying to dig into those interesting ideas that were executed just dreadfully. When reviewing my old work on a horror nation, I struck on something I really liked, which is the folding chair fluorescent tube lighting brain-rotted evangelical magical thinking.

The special the ongoing examination of an OC universe and the connected lore that reminds me of my beloved friends by talking about Ironworks, which means a lot to me because it’s basically treating fanfic my friends and I write together like it’s important. Because it is.

And I guess I should direct attention to the archive dive I did on PC Format magazine, and A Software Pirate Looks At 40. Because I think I’m okay, but man those articles don’t make it seem like I am.

Hey, this is this month’s t-shirt design! I’m happy with it, as someone who seems to just want to recreate the DOOM logo aesthetic in dozens of different ways. I had a little period this month where I just pumped out a few different designs and they went up on Redbubble and will get blog posts later, and haha, then at the end of April, Redbubble may? have screwed me? Oh well. The design is there for now, but I’m definitely thinking about alternate places to put my stickers and shirts.

Man, this month, this month. We dogsat a little dachsund. The weather turned rainy for the first time in a while. I got to play Wingspan with the really neat new expansion that added nectar. I watched a bunch of anime that turns out to be really great, like, 2022 was absurd. I hit a backlog of 40 posts on the blog. I did a bunch of graphic design, I got to play and finish Lunark (more on that later), I marked my students, and I managed to finally get one of those early nights I have been trying to get.

It hasn’t been great. Like, one day this month, Fox said to me ‘I missed you yesterday.’ Like I was in such an isolated, unconnected mood that she felt like I was absent. And that’s, you know, probably not good? And reading back on my writing at the tail of the month I’m kinda struggling with something.

What’s weirder is that I’m writing this as the last thing in the month…

… and like…

I feel pretty okay?

I want to spend the rest of today working on games. I don’t play enough.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Diary #Meta

[f3ralblog]

Kicking Failure in the Face

I had come to the realization recently that I do not, in reality, know how to fail well.

I feel like that’s something of a redundancy, because failure isn’t really something you’re supposed to do “well.” In fact, I’d argue it’s the one thing that is inherently and intentionally understood as bad.

My career in music has had several highs and lows. The one constant, however, is that I am lauded for my capabilities as a musician and a songwriter. While I am proud of my accomplishments, I say this with no hubris. I feel as though universal praise, especially in a closed-circuit ecosystem like Pittsburgh, has been more of a curse than a blessing.

I wish I got more feedback as a whole on the works that I made. Especially early on, when the guidance of elders and local music staples could’ve shaped my growth positively. I get a sting every time someone in Pittsburgh says a work of art is “great,” because it can mean something or it can not. Depending on the mouthpiece for the feedback, the praise can of course be genuine. Alternatively, it can be a defense mechanism, within which an artist can hide their true feelings in an attempt to secure good standing. Good favor that in turn becomes future opportunities.

I can’t fault most artists for their sometimes undeserved praise; it’s ultimately about survival. If I am known as someone who openly gives critique to works that are locally praised, then I will potentially assume a negative reputation.

I am guilty of this myself. Unless you specifically request criticism, I am naught to give you any. I don’t enjoy unsolicited advice, and thus do not dish it out. I am also deathly afraid of losing a connection through some critique I give; I never wish to invalidate an artists’ work or progress.

My point, as it relates back to failure, is that I have become so accustomed to positive feedback, that I have grown a complex. In my head, it is as though I am no longer allowed to produce something that isn’t of the highest quality or deserving of the highest praise. This feeling, accompanied by my own feelings of imposter syndrome, hinders progress tremendously.

I haven’t written nearly as much music as I have been used to writing. I haven’t created completed works with the same tenacity, focus, or thrill that I would have a year or more ago. Part of this is my attention split between different artistic disciplines, including indie video game development and graphic design. The other, more menacing part of this shift, is paralysis. I can start works, but am shrouded by the dark cloud of my prior accomplishments and leave most of my projects unfinished. I have too many ideas, but haven’t completed enough of them.

My current solution is to try and add more regiment to my schedule. Adding time that is intended for play, but also for completing projects that require additional time and attention. I don’t know if it’ll pan out, but I am unhappy with my music this year. Maybe it’s best to finish works and let them be exactly what they are. Whether a song is good or bad in my eyes, at least it’ll exist in its full capacity, rather than in my drafts folder.

I wish to allow failure. My expectations for myself haven’t changed, so it’ll still hurt/sting if the song isn’t as great as I could make it.

But at least I’ll have tried.

[noelleworm]

So i started RDR2 up again

finally back on this horse (lol) and i forgot how much of a work of art this game actually is,, i never actually finished it but i’m really excited to see it through finally,,, this has been on my mind for a minute and im just loading up the save file i had two years ago,, i was hoping to hit the ground running with where i was cause i hate the idea of starting a game or book over from the beginning,, when you do that after you had a long break you tend to stop in the same spots and never progress forward and if you just keep going the beginning is something you can easily experience over again! especially a game with a (what i remember being) slow beginning.

the atmosphere and aesthetics and how RDR2 generally feels is so good. i’m very okay with the idea of a written protagonist that can still be customized as opposed to a completely blank slate because with a lot of blank slate characters they dont really cover the broad depth of what a person would want to do. i think a good happy medium is something like cyberpunk 2077 where the character is nearly a blank slate but you pick a few different origin stories and then a most dialogue options are just role playing fluff but the character of V is still very much so a character that has a story and an arc

i know how fucked up the devs and artists were crunched to hell and obviously i dont condone that but they still put like actual passion into this game. they really wanted to make something more memorable than GTA V and so far they really hit it all the way. the characters (especially arthur morgan) are much more likeable whereas in GTA V any one of them could’ve died and i wouldn’t care the slightest.

i really want to see this game through and i think this is gonna be my next narrative heavy game i complete. i like having a good story to sink my teeth into almost as much as i love a good game with arcade style mechanics with the goal being to improve your skills.

sorry if this long post is incoherent and rambly i havent actually written anything in years

[arotechno]

Jughead (2015), Aromanticism and Representation Part 1: The Mark Waid Fiasco

So, here’s the thing.

I was going to finish my arc-by-arc reread and review of the Jughead reboot. I was! But that was nearly a year ago now, and I kind of got distracted with a busy summer and moving and then a bunch of other stuff got in the way. And so really, I was going to finish. But the truth is, the last volume is either not super interesting for me to talk about or it’s the Mark Waid bit that I just really didn’t want to go through the trouble of getting screencaps and doing analysis for and so on. But I’m also not done talking about Jughead (I never will be) and I said before that I had some more overarching commentary I wanted to eventually put out, so here we are. So let’s talk about representation. Namely, I want to talk about the differences between Zdarsky and North’s portrayals of Jughead’s aromanticism. But in order to do that, we have to address the elephant in the room. We have to talk about Mark Waid.

First, a brief summary of volume three, just for context, since I never got around to it: Ryan North finishes off his run with a relatively lighthearted short arc where due to Jughead fucking up in a video game bet, the gang is forced to treat Reggie like a king for a week and do everything he says. They end up starting a really terrible band, things get out of hand, Jughead accidentally uploads a public video of them that implodes all of their social lives… it’s fun and goofy and can be basically summed up as Jughead Experiences Consequences, Wacky Hijinks Ensue.

The last two issues of the Jughead reboot ever released were written by Mark Waid and Ian Flynn. For the sake of focusing on the source material itself, the final arc consists of Sabrina accidentally casting a spell that makes everyone obsessed with Jughead. The problem is, since Jughead is super aroace and touch averse, this very quickly becomes a very uncomfortable situation. Now, I actually don’t hate these last two issues, and it’s not like Waid and Flynn retconned Jughead’s orientation or anything as drastic as that. The problem was with how the storyline was promoted and sensationalized prior to these issues even being released, and with Waid’s attitude in general.

I can’t find any record of Waid’s tweets about this because he deleted them all. Literally, I’ve searched his profile and all of his tweets from 2017 after January 5 are gone, or else Twitter is glitching like crazy. But there is this one that he wrote in reference to Trump not long before his Jughead run was announced, and uhh…

I don’t know how to explain why this is bad, but it made aspec fans very nervous to see this kind of behavior and then find out that Waid was picking up Jughead, an aroace character.

Further alarm was raised when the synopsis for the new storyline was announced. It originally read as follows:

���Sabrina the Teenage Witch tries to do something nice for Jughead, but it ends up creating a comedy of errors in which he is the most desired bachelor in town! From the new writing team of Mark Waid (Archie) and Ian Flynn (Sonic the Hedgehog).”

This was… concerning, to say the least. A cover art in which Jughead is depicted surrounded by women and grinning was also circulated, which made a lot of aroace fans very uncomfortable (though it should be noted that this was an alternative cover, and not the one drawn by Derek Charm that ended up in the issue):

Once issues 15 and 16 were eventually released, things kind of died down a bit, at least from where I was standing. Like I said, the storyline as it actually appears in the comics is not really all that bad. As a basic plotline, I don’t find it particularly problematic; however, the issue that I still have with it to this day is that it doesn’t feel like it was written or promoted for aspec people to enjoy. It was a storyline about borderline sexual harassment that was played entirely for laughs for a straight audience, right down to the way it was described in the initial synopsis for issue 15. Zdarsky and North, in different ways, both wrote with what I felt was a great deal of care and attention paid to making sure Jughead’s orientation was portrayed respectfully without being his entire character. I don’t know what role Ian Flynn had in all this, because all of the criticism and back-and-forth that eventually got deleted seemed to be focused on Mark Waid—but needless to say, issues 15 and 16, while not bad writing, feel a lot more careless than aspec people deserved.

I don’t think Mark Waid is an awful person and my intention isn’t to restart the discourse or “cancel” Waid by posting this. I think he’s a deeply flawed person and kind of an asshole who wasn’t the right person to write Jughead and treated fans very disrespectfully in response. I think he’s a coward for deleting the evidence, and I’m disappointed that issues 15 and 16 were the last that we ever got, but at the same time I shudder to think what worse damage he may have done in later issues had he been given the chance. This is the exact opposite of how I feel about the Zdarsky and North arcs, and I want to talk about that more in a later post (that one will be more fun!), but for now I felt that I could not get into a deeper commentary on aro representation in the Jughead reboot without addressing Mark Waid first. It felt disingenuous not to.

Anyway, before I go I just want to add that when I went onto Mark Waid’s Twitter, I found out that today, by complete coincidence, happens to be his birthday. So I hope he enjoys this gift of continuing aro rage. <3

And if any of you happen to find those tweets (or anything else pertinent to this discussion that I missed), please let me know!

[jungxk]

just one (viii)

summary: the only guy on campus who’s track record trumped that of your best friend’s - park jimin - was jeon jungkook. not that that was a problem…until he set his sights on you.

notes: first of all i wanna thank the people who supported me and encouraged me through one of the worst writers blocks of my life. all the messages and comments are the reason why i finally managed to post this. special thanks to @whippedforkook for helping me with the monstrous tagging process as well as giving me so much praise. and also @lonelyending for cheering me on for a literal YEAR bc thats how long i cried over this fic! this story is so special to me. we’re in the home stretch now x

warnings: mentions of illegal drug use and distribution, swearing, brief smut.

genre: drama, romance, humour, college!au

wordcount: 8k

tagging: @cutechim @benz-biarritz @gyukult @bangulin @eatersanonymous @alyssa1926 @skivv1es @a-sucker-for-them-sappy-shit @moonights @jeymuffins @juuneaux @catsukiii @andreaisaac @whatheydontunderstand @sreveles @noruls619 @henryharios @just-a-fuxked-up-kid @befriendswithj @btsbesharam @poemsandpunani @taelha @misosoup-forthesoul @jikooksmut @heart-eyedmf @the-piano-woman @angrysunshine @chaoticpaperfanhoagie @jsungshine @ci-yen @faby-montana @shinypeanutsportshero @jooniestrivia @alucards-s @cynamyngirl @jiminie-angel @myskoova @jkshoneybuns @smokintae @remmykinsff @majinbuwu @jangx2manboongx2 @potatodogs @seul-queen @alpharyth @blenxxxg @plsky @th-singularity @bapbaptothetop @hermiones-enchantment @stomachfilledwithbutterflies @euphorora @supachloe94 @jiminxjimout @ggukkieland @just-another-fic-recs-blog @jalexad​

part i // part ii // part iii // part iv // part v // part vi // part vii // part viii // part ix // part x

x

4 years ago

x

jimin hated yugyeom.

well, maybe hate was a strong word. he just didn't like talking to him, being around him, hearing his name or interacting with him on any level, social or otherwise. he really tried though, since he was one of jungkook's closest friends and still respectfully referred to him as hyung above all else. and if anything, jimin would always have a soft spot for jungkook, the kid he used to coddle when his own brother wasn't around. but having said that, there wasn't really much basis for not liking yugyeom. it was just a gut feeling jimin couldn't explain, a very subtle callousness about him only jimin could pick up on. for the most part he was just like very other mild mannered boy by day and party animal by night, but jimin still ducks when he sees him enter the library.

"fuck," he hisses under his breath, scooping up his laptop to stride behind a book shelf for good measure. because sometimes, contrary to popular belief, jimin wanted to be alone. he didn't want to make small talk or listen to someone tell him about how well they scored on their last paper or complain about their annoying girlfriend. sometimes jimin wanted to have no thoughts and listen to fleetwood mac as per his human rights. which is why he shoves into the first private study room he sees.

and not an empty one at that. there's a girl inside, sitting cross-legged in her chair at a desk with an array of dried up paint tubes and brushes surrounding open sketchbooks. you don't look annoyed or even that phased, just amused as you give him a once over before going back to painting. "on the run from solji?"

jimin blinks, back still pressed against the door. "huh?" he regards you properly. "i'm sorry, have we met before?"

"not really," you admit with a sheepish smile, which is when jimin suddenly realises that you're...attractive. "solji is in my stats class. you hooked up with her last week at some party and she told me about it."

"oh," jimin takes in your plethora of art supplies. "you don't look like a stem student."

there's a glimmer of something in your eyes, and though you hide it well jimin knows he's struck a nerve. "yeah, i get that a lot."

"it's not solji by the way," jimin clarifies. for some reason. "that i'm hiding from. just a bellend i don't have the energy for right now."

you smile. "it's fine. you don't owe me your life story."

"i do when i'm about to impose on your...study time," jimin peers through the window in the door, wincing when yugyeom enters the hallway. "what would it take for you to let me stay in here for a while?"

you pause for a second. "honestly? just be quiet and leave me alone. is that okay?"

jimin perks up, a weight leaving his chest. "perfect, actually."

x

x

x

[jungkook 11:42pm]: why does it say wings on it

[jungkook 11:42pm] where is it flying

[you: 11:43pm] ffs kook

[you: 11:44pm] im still on the toilet can u just hurry up

[you 11:44pm] grab some tampons too pls

[jungkook 11:46pm] fine what size pussy do u wear

[you 11:46pm] i hate u

[jungkook 11:53pm] ???? ? ? well? ????

[you 11:54pm] REGULAR 

jungkook giggles at his phone, already having left the women's sanitary aisle to grab some chocolate. months later and teasing you was still bundles of fun. he knew for a fact that you were sat there with that angry pout on your face, nose crinkled. he had never bought anything like this before, but jungkook had enough brain cells to know that chocolate was another necessity for that time of the month. after grabbing a large hazelnut bar, he pauses beside the oreos before grabbing a packet of those too. just for good measure. he strides to the self checkout - because even he wasn't man enough for the cashier yet - nearly dropping his array of sanitary products and confectionary when somebody calls out his name from behind the queue.

"kook!" the voice is unmistakably yugyeom's, confirmed by the hand that clamps jungkook over the shoulder and swivels him round before he could think about hiding his socially compromising shopping items. it takes a second for yugyeom to notice, doing a double take at the pads atop his small tower of goods. he holds back a laugh, balancing a bottle of gin in one hand while he waves back at some friends to continue. they were clearly making their pit stop before a night out, probably pre's if they still start as late as jungkook remembers. with his hair styled and expensive cologne lingering, jungkook almost forgets he probably looks unrecognisable in his sweats and cotton-fresh hoodie. friday nights weren't for cuddling. still, yugyeom's smile is welcoming and familiar. "got the munchies? and maybe also a uterus?"

"shut up," jungkook grumbles, averting his eyes. he shifts to his other foot uncomfortably. "my friend just needed a favour, that's all."

"uh huh," yugyeom gives him a teasing look. "is this friend the reason why i barely saw you at jin's the other week?"

jungkook blinks back at him. "wait, you were at that party? i had no idea!" a boyish smile breaks over his face. "why didn't you call me? i haven't seen you since-"

"minseok-hyung's new years eve party," yugyeom throws his head back with a laugh. "remember how we ended up on a boat after the ball dropped and-"

"spent all of new years day detained by the coast guard!" jungkook finishes with a mischievous cackle of his own, nearly dropping the tampons in the process. "fuck, that was so much fun! we need to meet up again, i haven't been out with the guys in so long."

"well no wonder," he quips a brow at jungkook's shopping again. "word got out you're a family man but i didn't believe it. until now, that is."

jungkook's smile falls. "what do you mean?"

yugyeom looks at him for a second, confused by jungkook's surprise. yugyeom was never quite as diplomatic as namjoon or yoongi, to put it lightly. and definitely nowhere near as accomodating as jimin. which is why his next words make jungkook's back stiffen. "bro, look at yourself. you got dairy milk in one hand and tampax in the other. on a friday night. the next time i see you i wouldn't be shocked if you had a baby buggy and a mortgage." still, yugyeom throws him an apologetic look. like a mouse caught in a trap. "face it, kook. you're old news."

"what? that's not true," his brows furrow unhappily. "i don't know what you're talking about. it's not like she's my..."

he can't say the word, but it hangs between them like a dead weight.

"yeah, right," the condescending look on yugyeom's face was starting to agitate him. "you totally blanked us at jin's after she showed up. not even just jin's..." he thinks twice about holding his tongue, but as always, decides against it. "i don't know you, jungkook. whoever this new jungkook is. it's been months. you used to hit us up and be independent and spontaneous and wild and now you're just...someone's boyfriend.

"stop fucking saying that," jungkook snaps, all visible signs of friendliness gone.

"why?" a beat. "do you even use a wrap with her anymore?"

jungkook splutters, heat rushing to his ears and hands in a stinging combination of anger and embarrassment. "how is that any of your business? the fuck are you asking me something like that, as if you-"

"thought so," yugyeom looks away from him with a sigh. if anything, yugyeom knew never to overstay his welcome but that clearly backfired tonight. "whatever, jungkook," he looks over his shoulder at him. "guess you're the last one to find out you're officially married."

"you're ridiculous," jungkook scoffs. "all this over condoms? grow up, yugyeom."

"only couples do it raw," yugyeom turns away from him, alcohol in tow as he waves a hand over his shoulder to join his friends like jungkook was nothing but a lost cause. "you would remember that if you still had game."

jungkook stands there, dumbfounded while the group of boys exit the store noisily but he can't hear a thing. the siren that had been itching the back of his mind all this time was suddenly there at full force, right between his eyes. the glaring truth that yugyeom might be right makes his knees buckle. all those rules jungkook once had, all those measures he kept in place to protect his liberty, to prevent this very occurence - where were they? what happened to them? as the sweet and accommodating counterpart to jimin, why had you never complied? though, the blame wasn't on your hands alone. he got complacent, comfortable. lenient. and now without even realising he was here, a scene from a romcom in the middle of the night, with nothing to say for himself but fuck. the realisations wouldn't stop racing, one after another on the conveyer belt of his anxiety.

the photos on his phone; mostly you. time spent, usually with you. the portfolio for his latest photography module also had some resemblance to your interests. charcoal pencils, night drives, orchids. like the ones you always drew on any scrap of paper lying around. now that he thinks about it, he's seen nothing but your orchids for months. and not just that - you wore his clothes sometimes too. his bathroom had your toothbrush, contraceptive pills and coconut shampoo. his closest friends, his hyungs...not one of them was devoid of affection for you. he wasn't even confident that if the choice was presented, they would still pick him over you.

by the time jungkook finishes paying and practically sprints to his truck in a daze, he can hardly keep himself from shaking. he palms the wheel compulsively, he could feel the sweat in his sideburns, hoodie suddenly suffocating him. it smelled of you.

and then, like a final curtain call: was he just your latest fixer-upper project? some good girl wet dream to play out in the wake of your emotionally traumatic past? a slap in the face to seokjin, maybe, and nothing more? when you were done, when he was out of your system, when you knew his taste by heart and had nothing new left to try - would you stay? did you even know how to?

did he?

jungkook starts the engine. he drives to your door, drops your bag of snacks and pads on the porch, and texts you before leaving. he does not go inside.

x

x

x

"you sure you'll be okay with just the boys?"

you scoff at seulgi when she pins you with a worrying look, taking some of her clothes out of her bag to re-fold them just so you had something to do with your hands. jisoo had already left for the long weekend with her family, so there was no one there to fill up the empty space between your awakward reply. you didn't know how to tell the girls that jungkook hadn't contacted you in nearly a month. and even though he was a notable flight risk from the beginning, you couldn't help but feel like there was hostility there. every now and again he'd at least send a nude or have a quick phone call when he was drunk or high at three in the morning, but you hadn't heard a peep from him. you couldn't stand the idea of someone you cared about harbouring comtempt for you, but the fear of reaching out and somehow making the situation worse outweighed it tenfold. 

you look up to see seulgi still staring at you with concern. "of course i'll be fine! they're boys, not piranhas."

"at least piranhas contribute our ecosystem. boys just cause problems for the hell of it," seulgi lays a hand on the crown of your head like a berating big sister, swivelling you to look at her in your fit of giggles. the urge to nestle you under blankets like a baby bird made her chest heave, and you could tell. "i'm serious. if jimin tries anything, call me immediately okay?"

"jimin?" you snort. "out of a room full of delinquents, my ex, and taehyung, you're worried about jimin of all people?"

seulgi wrinkles her nose. "god, when you say it like that its like i'm throwing you to the dogs." she pauses. "something's up with jimin. i don't know what it is, but he's...off."

you tilt your head innocently, remembering the brief interaction you had with hobi at seokjin's party. you had been so caught up in jungkook - or lack thereof - you hadn't thought to press him about it afterwards. in truth, jimin remained as...jimin as ever. if he was acting differently you certainly couldn't tell. "you think so?"

"mmm," she leans on the lip of the open suitcase thoughtfully. "but maybe with jungkook there, he'll behave himself."

you gulp, fiddling with his watch on your wrist anxiously. "maybe."

x

x

x

you nearly yelp when you feel a big hand swivel around your waist, bucking into the kitchen counter reflexively. jungkook always did this before rubbing his boner against your ass, but the light scent of citrus and short squeeze lets you know immediately that its taehyung. hoseok, jimin, namjoon and yoongi were still in the living room playing video games, giving taehyung the perfect opening to intercept you. namjoon and yoongi had insisted that you come over to their place after finding out you'd be alone for the weekend, and you had completely refused before taehyung's coaxing. and of course, jimin's persuasive nudging. even though you felt safe and relaxed here, it felt wrong to be in jungkook's friends' place without him. almost like a breaching of an unspoken boundary.

and clearly, taehyung picked up on your discomfort by the way he stared at you so softly. his back was to the sink, his sillhouette particularly long and lean this evening. "you need to lighten up, princess. you keep looking over your shoulder so much it's making me nervous!"

your visibly droop with a sigh. "i'm sorry tae. i've had a lot on my mind lately, and..."

he claps his hands on your shoulders, teeth peeking through his grin. "you're not doing anything illegal by being here without jungkook."

you wince at his name. "have you always been able to read my mind like this?"

"absolutely," taehyung's brown eyes look so rich up close. "you're allowed to have friends that are also his friends, because - and try to stick with me on this - relationships between people are allowed to be independant from the primary circles they met in. mind boggling concept, i know."

you wack him on the chest until he laughs. "stop making fun of my anxious thought processes! its called mental illness, sherlock! i can't help it!"

his nose scrunches cutely, enjoying your first fiery outburst of the day. "whatever. i call it not getting laid for a month and losing critical thinking abilities from it."

you gape at him indignantly while taehyung roars with laughter. "you're such a dickhead," you hiss through gritted teeth, yanking his hair and jabbing your fingers in his sides the way you would with jimin during a tickle fight. "whores have feelings too, taehyung! whores have feelings too!"

you both fall about with laughter, knocking over half the snacks on the counter in the process which only makes the pair of you laugh even more. it's such childish chaos trying to clean up the mess on the tiny kitchen floor that neither of you notice the front door open, or the gust of metaphorical and literal wind that follows. watching taehyung trying to salvage a bag of broken crisps is just so funny that the presence of an another voice in the living room goes unregistered, as do the footsteps leading up the hallway to the kitchen, so you have no time to brace yourself or properly pull yourself together with you see-

"...jungkook."

yours and taehyung's heads snap to the doorway. jungkook stands there with almost complete lack of emotion on his face to the pair of you kneeling in crumbs and napkins. there's a brief pause where the tension in your eye contact alone was so strong that it felt wrong to breathe. but it is shortlived. jungkook tiptoes over you like spilled milk, reaching for a glass of water. you and taehyung lock eyes while the tap runs in the awkward silence. "hey. you okay?"

"um," you're not sure whether to stand up, hug him, look at him, or even face him. "yeah! yeah, i'm fine."

he nods politely. "hyung?"

even taehyung looks visibly uncomfortable. "i'm good."

"cool. see you later," he says, downing the glass impressively fast before leaving the room just as fast as he entered it.

you and taehyung stare at each other again, not understanding why you both feel like kids caught eating cake before dinner. you could feel the sweat pricking at your back from the realisation. jungkook had no idea you'd be here, and given that interaction he'd probably want to leave now. there was always the inkling woven between his radio silence that he was done with you, but you never let yourself take it seriously out of logic. because how could months of passion and tenderness and honesty be undone so irrevocably like that? it didn't make sense. you hadn't changed. you were the same girl he hit on relentlessly and chased against all odds. so what was different now?

"____," taehyung calls your name gently, and it's only then you realise you're already up and trailing after jungkook into the living room. when you walk in he's already putting his shoes on to leave again, barely making eye contact with you while he chats absently to his hyungs so he can look busy. the four boys on the large sofa can only reply wearily, eyes darting between the pair of you like a firework was about to blow to soon. and it was.

you could feel it in your throat, under your breast bone, bubbling up your stomach. "wait, jungkook. um...h-how have you been? i haven't heard from you in-"

"i've been good," he keeps tying and re-tying his laces without looking up. "super busy. you know how it is."

his curtness makes you flinch. this same time last month jungkook used to kiss you senseless before he had both feet in the door. he'd ring the doorbell incessantly like a child and greet you with the biggest, toothiest grin you had ever seen. he'd make fun of your bed head and squeeze your cheeks until you'd snap at him. and now when he looked at you he hated every second of it. your mother had the same look. your eyes start to burn involuntarily. "yeah, i do. how is uni? your final project is due soon, right? what theme did you pick in the end?"

"the one i told you about," he stands up abruptly. "sorry, noona. something came up. i'll see you arou-"

"something came up?" you step closer to him. "something came up the second you saw my face? or did you really just trek all the way to your hyungs' place for a glass of water, jungkook?"

jungkook stiffens, but is determined not to lose face. and it's difficult to do under your big, accusatory eyes and jimin's death stare at his back. the whole room was waiting for his response, so he just shoves his hands in his pockets resolutely. "i needed to see yoongi hyung, but i can come another time."

you fold your arms. "well it's clearly important, and you're here now. so don't let me stop you."

"but you will stop me," jungkook snaps. "that's the problem."

"kook-ah," yoongi warns quietly, but he took one look at your face and knew the damage was done. jimin was already standing up, circling around the back of the sofa towards you. the red lights were all there; your watery eyes, your trembling hands. every breath you took looked difficult for you to complete and only jimin noticed.

"what are you talking about?" you squint. it takes you a second to understand; yoongi's guilty expression, jungkook's indifference. "oh, you're fucking kidding me." your resolve breaks for a second turning away only to glare back at jungkook with so much fire you can hardly stand it. "you're selling again? are you insane, jungkook?"

"see," jungkook's eyes are stony. "i knew you'd get this way."

"what other way am i supposed to get?" his lack of response only infuriates you more. it felt disrespectful. "jungkook, you're not a kid anymore. if you get caught with drugs the consequences are serious! forget the potential jail time, you could get kicked out of university, it would go on your record forever and-"

"stop talking to me like i'm a kid!"

"then stop acting like one!" you hate raising your voice, but it keeps climbing without your approval. "did you think about this for even five minutes? this isn't like just going to juvie like before and being done with it jungkook. your hyungs can't bail you out of everything."

"this is a lot of talk for someone who lapped up those fancy paints without a second thought," jungkook says darkly. his eyes aren't like you remember, his face solemn and near unrecognisable. "or did you think that getting that kind of money overnight is only something that's possible through daddy's credit card?"

dread blooms like a garden inside you. "that's...that's how you bought the paint set?"

"welcome to the real world," he quips. "as if selling overpriced weed to a bunch of pick-me-freshmans is considered a crime against humanity to anyone but you."

"you think that's why i'm yelling at you right now?" your voice was growing hoarse, desperate. "you think that's the problem i have with you being literal drug dealer, jungkook?"

he hates it. the sweltering silence, the judgmental eyes digging into his back, the slow realisation that the tears in your eyes were not at him but for him. jungkook's ears ring enough to make him sway on the spot if his feet weren't planted so firmly on the dingy carpet, this metaphorical ground. he couldn't shake the feeling that his lifestyle was only an issue now because of you, how he never felt a shred of guilt about any of this shit until he met you. and if there was anything that jungkook never responded well to, it was pity. and he could feel it from every person in the room, all people that that once cherished and coddled him until you came along. he swallows, throat dry from the way he couldn't look at you knowing what he was going to say next.

"you're embarrassing yourself, noona. you're not my girlfriend and you never were, so stop acting like it."

cotton. it's very faint, under the layers of conflicting cologne and beer and smoke, but jungkook still smelled of cotton while he spat acid. nobody could speak, even though jungkook never raised his voice let alone a hand to you, it still hit like a slap in the face. it sunk into the walls, your clothes, suddenly every hair on your body felt heavy with it. dirty. the shame came first, the humiliation next. and then the sorrow, the dread, and finally the defeat. you knew the stages well by now, and they were cycling through you like clockwork. how foolish you were, to make the same mistake again. nobody dared to move, everyone but jungkook staring at you in denial and horror. they couldn't believe their eyes when you nod steadily, bowing your head to the floor.

jimin is already slotting himself between you, his jaw tight. "that's enough, kook. just leave already."

"no," you stop him, unnervingly resigned. that single word cuts through all six men with ease. "he's right." you step around jimin, closing the space between you and jungkook. for a brief moment he wonders if you'll actually hit him, but somehow watching you unclasp his watch from your wrist and drop it on the coffee table in front of him is far worse. the sound seems to ring like church bells, definitive and umistakable. "you're right, i'm not your girlfriend. you win jungkook."

they all watch you leave in dismay, listen to the door closing softly behind you. within a second jimin sprints after you, calling your name, leaving everyone else dumbfounded. jungkook's stare could bore a hole into the abandoned watch on the table, still ticking away like nothing changed. like his eyes weren't burning, lightheaded at the realisation that he would never wear a watch again let alone the one he put on you.

x

x

x

to an outsider, you looked like you were coping well considering you just got dumped in front of all your friends. but jimin knew that face. your stony eyes, lips pulled thin as if to seal inside the collapse of a monument. you took the tea he offered, and then his arms, your face finding his chest with ease. muscle memory. his torso was a tad shorter than jungkook's, his heart closer to your mouth as if the steady thumps were asking for a kiss of acknowledgement. every time you close your eyes you could see jungkooks face, hard and unforgiving and nothing like the man you trusted all this time. but it wasn't a new expression; you parents looked at you similarly the last time you saw them. it was the look of someone who had no regrets cutting all ties. and now, jungkook was behind them in a lost list of people who chose to be strangers over loving you.

jimin sighs when you cry into his chest, brushing the back of your head gently. he had been ready for this for months, but he still hated to see you this way. again. it made his bones itch, his skin crawl uncomfortably every time you weeped. the only time he considered violence was when you were crying. but he knew what to do, laying down across the sofa so you could curl up into a ball next him, head on his bicep and face smushed into the crook of his shoulder. you used to cry like this for hours and hours, his arm familiar with the prickle of pins and needles. but it was the only place you felt safe. tucked into jimin's side is where you would always belong, and that truth was more glaringly obvious than ever now.

"lets get something to eat," he offers eventually, hand craddling the crown of your head like a child. jimin's other hand on your hip is warm and heavy when he pats you soothingly. in your episodes, you responded well to touch. "what about thai food?"

"not hungry," you grumble against him.

"we could make something together?" he peers down at your lack of response. "come on, babe. you gotta eat something. you didn't even have breakfast-"

"why am i so stupid?" you whisper, a fresh bout of tears welling up.

jimin rubs your thigh. "it's not your fault."

"yes it is. jungkook gave me plenty of red flags, and i ignored all of them-"

"oh, i meant you being stupid."

you scoff. "cheers."

"what?" jimin cocks a brow when you lift your head to look up at him. he wets his lips and you follow the swipe of his tongue thoughtlessly, distracted enough by his touch and proximity that you take a second to digest his words. "it's not like any of this exactly came as a surprise. you ignored me, remember? wanted to flex your big girl pants."

you pull away from him and sit up, forcibly shutting out the daze that jimin routinely puts you under. "what's wrong with you? can't you be polite and wait for a couple hours before laying into me like a normal person? jesus, jimin."

"so let me get this straight," jimin sits up, watching your back as you sit away from him. "you're mad because i'm not telling you what you want to hear?"

"no," you say, head shaking. "i'm not mad. i'm upset because i came here to be comforted by my friend and you're just making me feel worse."

"what do you want me to say, ____? that i had high hopes from the start?" jimin pushes his hair back, brows now at a sharp incline from frustration. "i told you starting something with jungkook was trouble but you didn't listen. why should i feed your victim complex when all i've done is try to help you?"

"victim complex?" you repeat, standing up slowly. the sudden steadiness of your voice causes jimin to panic.

"not like that. don't take it like that, it's just," he's suddenly before you, his warm hands palming up your arms warmly. "i didn't wanna see you get like this and it happened anyway, is all i'm saying." he sighs when your scowl doesn't let up. "if hobi hyung hadn't have given up so easy, then maybe…maybe this would never have happened. maybe if i had been harsher with him then you would have-"

"what are you talking about?" you ask quietly, searching jimin's face. "give up so easy? what's that supposed to mean?"

he looks away, hands slipping off you. "it's nothing."

"jimin."

he struggles to look at you, tongue in cheek. his lips purse for a moment, pink like roses. he's wearing that navy jumper you like. "look, it's not a big deal. he wasn't supposed to fuck you or anything, just take you out for a while. get your mind off kookie, show you a nice time."

your blood runs cold. "what?"

jimin's expression softens. "it's not as bad as it sounds-"

"really?" your voice is sharp, sharper than he's ever heard it. you recoil as if you had been struck for the second time today. "because it sounds like you asked some guy to keep me occupied like i'm a fucking dog. all because you can't stand the idea of me being within a meter of jungkook-"

he steps in, but you step back. "you know that's not true, _."

"don't i?" you scoff, covering your face in disbelief. "jimin, you've been hellbent against me even looking at the guy since day fucking one."

"because i didn't want you to get hurt!" jimin counters, eyes downcast. "i know, okay? i know how much of a dick it makes me sound, but its not like it hurt you when you had no idea! hoseok broke it off before you even knew about it so why-"

"because it's worse," you turn away from him. "you tried to control me. choose what's best for me because you think you know better than i do. sound familiar?"

his jaw sets, and it's like you can hear the twine snap in his head, the percussion of his heartbeat above yours even though he doesn't close the space between you. jimin stares at you for a long minute before drawing in a thin breath. "fine," he steps in, and you can't look away. "you want me to say it? fine. i'll say it."

suddenly the air is lace thin around you as you stare at him, waiting. jimin looks off somewhere else, somewhere you can't reach. "don't tell me you haven't thought about it, because i know you have. if i have you must have too. and lately its all i can think about - being with you, holding you, being the one who gets to touch you. and yeah, maybe it took having to see you with jungkook for me to realise how much i want all that, i put my hands up. but you have no idea what's it like to watch the person you love most get toyed around with by a time bomb like that. i've seen jungkook go through girls like underwear and i love him, god i love him, but even the idea of you being one of those wasted girls sitting outside a party crying over his sorry ass makes my fucking ears ring."

"j-jimin…" you whisper, but you have nothing to say. your hands shake.

"you deserve more than that, ____. you deserve more than waiting around for booty calls or living up to what the next guy wants. from jungkook, hoseok, anyone. you deserve someone's devotion and yeah, maybe all this time i've been too much of a pussy to give it. maybe all this time i was tiptoeing around my feelings for you because i knew if i admitted to myself that i loved you - if i admitted i was just like every other guy - i'd actually set the bar for something other than disappointment. id actually have to step up, and i didn't know if i could do it. i still don't. but if it has to be someone…it should be me."

suddenly he's holding your hands, calming the tremble that rattles them. his words bunch up together in your ears, the meaning lost amidst your awe. "jimin….jimin what are you saying? where is all this coming from, i don't...i don't understand wh-"

"i'm saying," he cups your face. "choose me." he pulls you in. so, so close. "choose me, not jungkook. not anyone else. me."

and there's a part of you that has already caved. that's already kissing him, melting into his arms like you've wanted to for so, so long. you're falling back onto the couch with him in a fit of giggles, curling back into his chest to hide your watery eyes, asking him why the fuck he took so long. you chat together between teasing kisses, pour your hearts out, maybe cry a little. later you would make tea and order pad thai and watch the office all night and fall asleep together in the living room well past dawn and then-

you close your eyes. "i can't."

"you can," jimin says, so passionately you shudder. his brown eyes are teaming with too much determination and ardour for his own good, and you both know it. its difficult to grapple with how huge a risk he's taking, because jimin never takes risks. it made the whole situation seem dire. "you know you can, ____. it's us. there's no one like us."

you don't know how you're not crying yet. you only have jimin to hold onto, hands balled in his shirt without knowing if you're about to push him away or pull him in forever. "maybe back then. maybe if you'd have said all this before," you feel empty, the beat of your pulse suddenly strong in your fingertips. "but it doesn't matter anymore."

he shakes his head in denial, his determination palpable. "of course it does-"

"i'm in love with him," you say. to jimin. to yourself. to the world, finally. "i'm in love with jungkook." holding jimin's stare isn't as difficult as you thought it'd be. "you know if you'd have done all this a few months ago…if you'd have just...i was always yours without question, jimin. and you knew it." it's his turn to bristle under the strain of your voice. "jungkook isn't perfect. i'll be the first one to admit that. he's made me cry, he fucks up, he makes mistakes. but he's never lied to me. he never made decisions for me. he never passed judgement on what i should or shouldn't do with my life. something that i never thought i wouldn't able to say about you, too."

there's a brief moment where everything stops. neither of you can believe what you just said. jimin watches you, frozen in his place as you take your bag, eyes glittering with tears when he calls for you. suddenly he's the time bomb he feared becoming, the panic in his eyes lighting them up like fire crackers. for the first time in his life, he stumbles over his words, and then his feet when you reach for the door, all composure lost. he was unravelling like a tapestry in front of you, never to be repaired, and he could feel it. "____. ____, please," jimin chokes, his cheeks blotchy. "i wanted to protect you, i was just trying to help. don't go. please don't go. i was trying to help you."

"no. you were trying to have me." you say, closing the door behind you.

x

x

x

you have no idea what time it is when you hear the bell ring incessantly.

it had been hours since you'd returned home from jimin's, but there was no way for you to keep track when your only priority was just keeping yourself afloat. you turned your phone off, drew the curtains, and resolved to alternate between sitting in seulgi and jisoo's rooms until they came back. you didn't know what else to do. when you weren't crying you were hyperventilating, and when that stopped the absence of emotion was so powerful you could barely keep your eyes open. you were exhausted but could not sleep. starving but could not eat. it was a miracle you even made it down the stairs, using what little strength you had to yank it open without even thinking about who could be on the other side in the middle of the fucking night. but at this point, you would gladly take a serial killer over jimin or jungkook.

"taehyung," you breathe when you take in his face, relieved. you must look like absolute shit because he scans your face and winces. 

"jimin told me," he says, the apology in his voice and expression was almost painful to register. "he told me everything. ____, i'm so sorry. i should have told you about the hoseok thing, i just thought it would be worse coming from me, and then i tried to force jimin into confessing but then he didn't because he's jimin, and now-"

"you're only allowed to come inside if you stop apologising," you say weakly, voice haggered from the hours of crying.

taehyung's pouty expression almost makes you smile with how cute he looks, gingerly stepping over the threshhold. "i really am sorry though."

"for what," you say monotonously, closing the door behind him while he takes off his shoes. "my inexplicably terrible taste in men? my uncanny ability to get manipulated by literally anyone who shows me a scrap of affection? or my absolutey shredded-to-shit attachment style thats barely intact let alone functioning healthily? after hoppping between the first two for a few hours i'd personally go for the latter. but whatever."

"please shut up," taehyung sighs, bringing you into his arms before you could have a second thought about it. "you need to amp up the misandry in this context. a lot of this had nothing to do with you and everything to do jimin and jungkook."

you're too tired to open your eyes, snuggling into the softness of taehyung's chest. you’re too exhausted to argue. "where did you learn the word misandry? have you been reading?"

"yeah," you can hear his big, pleased grin. "i know you and the girls have been calling me a himbo behind my back."

"affectionately," you add, peering up at him. he wipes the wetness off your cheeks, moving upstairs to your room with your hand in his. he fetches you a glass of water before putting you into bed like he's paid to do it. taehyung was the cuddliest person you had ever met, but you had rarely seen him dote on anyone. "girls love himbos. it's a compliment."

"not all girls," he mutters when he returns from the bathroom with a glass of water. "drink this, would you? you look so dry it's making me itchy."

you do as he says with a roll of your eyes. "what do you mean?" you finish your water with a big gulp. "jisoo loves dumb guys, what are you talking about?"

taehyung looks away from you, bottom lip rolling up under his teeth so fast you barely catch it. he pulls up your desk chair next to your bed, thinking long and hard before meeting your eyes again. "i don't mean jisoo."

you don't understand at first, but after staring at his face for a long minute your stomach drops. "don't. don't you fucking dare," another beat of silence. you rip the covers off you to scamble to your knees, grab your pillow and hurl it at taehyung's head. "taehyung, please don't tell me that the one remaining, healthy relationship i have with a man has also been shot to shit because i swear to god i'm gonna-"

"it's not a big deal," he says firmly, and he really does mean it. taehyung catches your wrists when you lunge at him, effectively ending your outburst before it can begin. he keeps hold of them while he stares into your eyes, watching the way they fill up with a fresh bout of tears. "i've had a crush on you for a while, so what? it's not anyone's business but mine so don't worry about it."

you try not to scream at him. "how long?"

"...since the start." he shrugs. "it's not like i could have done anything anyway. with jimin around. he’d never have it."

"but...! but..." you splutter, the highlight reel of your friendship suddenly marred before your eyes. "but you let me talk to you about boys! you gave me advice with hobi and jimin and jungkook and...! you encouraged jimin to confess to me. and the whole thing with jisoo?"

he wets his lips guiltily. "jisoo is a nice girl. i like her, but...not like you. i've always liked you."

you shake your head in horror, your face crumpling. bile rose in your throat. "so all of that...playing with my friend like that. was just to get to me?"

"listen to me," taehyung says firmly, gripping your wrists to make you look at him again. he's so close you can feel the warmth of his breath on yours, and you never realised how large taehyung's torso was compared to yours before. he could have smothered you, but he didn't. in all senses. "the way jimin and jungkook handled their feelings is on them, just like how this is on me. it doesn't matter if i'm fucking you or not, you're my friend and i'll always want people to do right by you. and that includes me."

there was nothing else to say, so taehyung wordlessly wipes your face again and fetches you more water before retreating to sleep on the couch downstairs. all the while you sat there in your bed, confused and bewildered and thoughtful. the same bed jungkook fucked you on. the same bed jimin held you in. out of all the men in your life, taehyung was the only one who treated his feelings for you with reverence. there wasn't one interaction you could think of where he made his feelings clear, where he even hinted towards wanting something more. if he hadn't have said anything tonight, in the wake of one of the most emotionally tumultuous days of your life, you would still be in the dark about it all. and that was the scariest part. you didn't know anyone else who hadn't let their feelings for you effect how they treated you. so ultimately, it was possible.

and jimin and jungkook chose not to do that. but taehyung did.

taehyung did.

when you finally pad downstairs after hours of ruminating, jisoo's bedroom door is wide open. and that's who you should be thinking about now - your friend and sister jisoo - as the sky begins to lighten with the signs of morning. you hadn't slept for over twenty four hours, you were hungry and thirsty, delirious from the whirlwind of losing the two most important men in your life in one day. but still, you are drawn to taehyung. taehyung, who never asked anything of you. taehyung, who was as silent as he was selfless this whole time. taehyung who routinely put what he wanted aside in favour of what was best for you. taehyung, who protected you without needing credit or recognition for it. taehyung, taehyung, taehyung, taehyung, taehyung-

"taehyung," you whisper scraping your nails through his hair. his eyes fluttered open, twisting his head to face you as you hovered above him. he could barely see you in the darkness. "taehyung, wake up."

"what is it?" he croaks, sitting up with half-lidded eyes and a yawn. he doesn't know how to read the expression on your face. he swings his legs off the sofa in a sitting position, wearing nothing but his boxers and tee, visibly alarmed. "what happened? are you okay?"

you take his face in your hands and kiss him. 

taehyung stiffens against you, breath drawn thin. you pull away to gauge his expression, desperately searching his eyes in the darkness. for discomfort, disapproval, anything negative at all. the absolute ardour you find instead could knock you down if taehyung didn't reach for your neck, kissing you again. you whine at the feel of his tongue, having no idea where such sudden and intense arousal was coming from. when you pull away with shaky limbs, you climb onto his thick thighs so he can feel your wetness through his boxers. taehyung grunts at the sensation, and again when you kiss him passionately and without abandon. the sweet girl every guy he knew was agonising over, suddenly in his lap. he's barely had his tongue down your throat for ten minutes and you're already rocking into him, his erection betraying his resolve.

it's better than he dreamed. 

"taehyung," you gasp, palming him now. he groans when he pulls away to look at your mouth, glistening with his saliva when you take his hand and guide it down to your arousal. "please."

[manonblaqkbeak]

Everything Will Be Okay

Hello, hello. Hope you’re all having a good weekend. Here I am again with yet another Rowaelin fanfic (what a surprise lol). It’s on my ao3 under the name of novicewriter94.

“With their eldest child being eight and the anniversary of Aelin's parents death coming up, Aelin is worried that history will repeat itself. Rowan tells her that everything will be okay, and that they will spend the night as a family. “

2102 words

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Aelin was about five seconds away from setting the stupid shoe on fire. At twenty weeks pregnant with her forth child, Aelin's feet were well and truly swollen. She tried one more time to get the rutting shoe on her foot, failed spectacularly, and threw it at the closest door just as Rowan came out of it.

Her mate merely blinked and picked up the offending shoe, glanced at it and left it in the closet and crouched in front of her, taking her tender foot in his warm hand and began to message it gently. It was a familiar and welcome sight, but right now Aelin was too grouchy to appreciate it.

After long minutes, however, Aelin sighed as the tension in her feet faded away as did her grouchiness. When he was done, Rowan placed her slippers back onto her feet. “I have to go to a meeting with a Melisande adviser, I can't go wearing slippers,” Aelin told him. Although that meeting was the last thing she wanted to go too. She had been exhausted this last week and right now all she wanted was to go to sleep.

“You're four months pregnant and the Queen, I think you can wear slippers wherever and whenever you want,” Rowan said casually.

“Well, when you put it like that,” Aelin said, a small smile on her face.

Glancing at his wife, Rowan's eyes were open and understanding and he took her hands in his own, running his thumbs against her knuckles soothingly. “I know that the anniversary of your parents death is coming up,” he started to say and Aelin tensed up again. “But nothing will happen.”

“You don't know that.”

“No, I don't, but I'm confident that nothing will happen.”

After a moment, Aelin said, “Elentiya is eight, Rowan.”

“I know.”

“She's eight years old,” Aelin said, “and she's scared of worms, Rowan. She loves gardening, but hates worms. She nearly punctured my ear drums last week when one touched her. I was placed in Arobynn's hands at eight and Elentiya is just the complete opposite of me at that age.” Not that she resented her daughter for that, not at all, but just thinking of how different their lives were at that age just hurt like hell.

At eight, Aelin's whole life changed—and Aelin was terrified of the same thing happening to her family. Everything in Erilea was perfectly fine, she knew that, but Aelin could not shake this dreadful feeling that something was going to happen.

“Nothing will happen,” Rowan promised again. Removing his hands from hers, he placed them on her belly, their baby kicking. Another small smile graced Aelin's face at the movement and Rowan moved forward to kiss her stomach.

Pulling back, he gave her a smile and told her the one thing that would calm her frantic thoughts. “For our forth child, I see a fine-boned daughter with silver hair and clear blue eyes.”

A wide smile broke out on Aelin's face. “Another girl?” Rowan nodded. “I don't mind either way, but I would really like another girl.”

Rowan kissed her stomach again. “I'm sure Elentiya will be excited, she was complaining the other day how about her brothers 'stink'.”

Aelin's answering laugh made Rowan smile, happy that he could help her in any way.

When Aelin's laugh faded, she kissed Rowan's cheek. “You still haven't told me how you know what our babies look like.” Each pregnancy, he told her what he envisioned—and each time he was correct.

At first, Aelin thought it was just strangely accurate guesswork when Elentiya arrived with her golden hair and pine green eyes, she was too ecstatic about her arrival to think much about it, and when she gave birth to Norrin and his silver hair and Ashryver eyes shined brightly in the early afternoon sun, she did wonder but again was far too ecstatic to question it too much. However, when she gave birth to their third child, Alder, and he came out with Rowan's silver hair and pine-green eyes, she knew that there was more to it then guesswork.

Rowan gave her a bright smile, the one that crinkled his eyes. It was one of her favourites. “It's a secret.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything about keeping secrets from her, considering that she used to do the same thing—not anymore, however, but still.

Aelin did feel a little better, but her dread didn't disappear completely. Rowan knew that too and kissed her lightly on the lips. “On that night, we'll have the kids with us, and they'll keep you distracted with all their stories and terrible, never-ending jokes—”

“Their jokes aren't that bad,” Aelin interrupted.

“They are, and I love that about them,” Rowan finished. “And you'll be too distracted to let those thoughts through.”

“Will there be cake?”

His smile brightened even more. “Of course.”

Aelin smiled and kissed him, knowing that everything would be okay, even though the feeling of dread still lingered. She would not be afraid. She would tell herself that each day until the anniversary passed.

X X X X X X

The day of her parents death arrived and Aelin had been on edge all day. She didn't go to any meetings, instead she spent most of the day in the library that Rowan gifted her years ago with Alder. Her current youngest child was two but would be a little over three by the time that his newest sibling would arrive.

Tucked away on a window seat, Aelin read aloud to him. He was her little bookworm, he loved books and often wanted to go to the library. Her son would often ask Aelin to read to him and not just the children's books, but history, mathematics, poetry, the arts, anything. She knew that when his reading skills grew more that he would always have a book in his hands.

Aelin finally left the library in the afternoon, Alder on her hip with a thick history tome that he wanted her to read to him in her other arm, eager to see his Uncle Aedion. Her cousin had arrived (for “no apparent reason” which she knew was bullshit) to stay here for a few days, so she left to get ready for an early dinner with him, listening as Alder babbled on about his favourite parts of the stories she read him, how he couldn't wait to see his Uncle, with Aelin listening with rapt attention.

Aelin found Rowan walking to the library and took Alder from her when their youngest stretched his arms out for his father to carry him, saying that he would bathe him and for Aelin to enjoy a nice, quiet bath before dinner. Linking her arm with Rowan's, Aelin thought of which tonics she would use for her hair for tonight, Aelin truly was happy that Aedion was here, shit excuse and all.

X X X X X X

After bathing Norrin and Alder, Aedion arrived at Elentiya's room and Rowan's heart swelled at how excited all his children were to see their uncle, but when Aedion started towards his and Aelin's chambers to have dinner on their balcony, Elentiya stayed behind, a curious look in her pine-green eyes.

Rowan tucked a stray hair behind her pointed ear and before he could ask if she was okay, she surprised him by saying: “Mama's been sad all week.”

“She has.” Elentiya was more observant than most eight year old's should be, her observation skills reminded him of Elide's.

“Is it because of her mama and papa, because they're dead?” Rowan remembered clearly the day that Aelin had to tell Elentiya why she had no grandparents, how that even though her parents were gone, Evalin and Rhoe loved Elentiya wherever they were. That Rowan's parents loved her, too.

The how and why Aelin's parents were dead was not known to any of their children, not yet.

“It is. They've been gone for a long time as you know, but she still misses them dearly. She was your age when they passed,” Rowan told his oldest. “So tonight, she'll be a little sad, and will probably smother you with all her hugs and kisses.”

“That's okay, I like mama's hugs and kisses.”

Rowan smiled. “Good, because you're probably going to get a years worth tonight.”

Elentiya surprised him even more when she raised her arms, silently asking him to carry her. She had stopped when she was six and a half, claiming that she “wasn't a baby anymore” and that she no longer wanted to be carried.

So with a full heart, Rowan lifted her up, his firstborn tucking her head into the crook of his neck. Planting a soft kiss on her forehead, Rowan went to his chambers and tucked Elentiya closer to him.

X X X X X X

Elentiya-Fenrys, Norrin, and Alder got more than a years worth of hugs and kisses, and Aelin still had plenty to give them as they all snuggled in for the night, the quilt and blankets tucked up high against them. Rowan stayed atop of the bedding, dressed in leather armour, ready to stand immediately in case of action. He knew nothing would occur, but his plan tonight involved staying awake to keep a watchful eye on everything.

The kids had spent the night drawing, playing Aelin's pianoforte (a little badly, if Aelin and Rowan were being honest, but they had fun, and that was all that mattered), dancing around, singing (again, a little badly), playing at hand shadows, playing whatever games they made up on the spot. An argument had broken out between Elentiya and Norrin about who Uncle Aedion loved more (Aelin had to tell them about half a dozen times that he loved them equally before they finally decided to listen). It certainly was a loud night—but he knew that it worked; he did not see any fear in his Fireheart's eyes.

Elentiya was cuddled against Aelin's right side, her head tucked underneath Aelin's chin. Alder on Aelin's left, with Norrin cuddling him, his shaggy silver hair sprawled on Aelin's bare arm. His wife's arms were wrapped around them. Their children talked to Aelin's swollen belly, all three excited to meet their newest sibling—with each of them giving name options.

And Norrin provided the perfect distraction when he asked his mother how babies ended up in women's bellies. Aelin turned to Rowan for that, a coy smile on her lips as she innocently asked Rowan if he knew the answer to their son's question, claiming that the details were a “little foggy”.

Truthfully, Rowan wasn't expecting to be asked that question for many years. Aelin looked ready to start laughing as Rowan took a minute too long to respond. Eventually, he gave a basic answer without giving too much away—and without the sordid details.

Since none of their children looked scarred from his answer, he supposed that he was successful—until the time to give a proper answer arrived.

But now it was time for bed and as Aelin lowered the flames in the hearth, Rowan reached over and kissed his children on the forehead goodnight, telling each one that he loved them very much. He kissed Aelin on the lips, promising him that she would see him in the morning and that he loved her, to whatever end. He kissed away the few tears that fell, the first of the night, telling her that everything would be okay. Kissing her once more, and pressing a kiss to her covered belly, he wished her a goodnight and Aelin finally closed her eyes and tucked their children impossibly closer.

Soon, her snoring filled the room and Rowan sat up straight and did not leave their rooms for anything.

X X X X X X

When the sun rose on the new day, Rowan gently woke Aelin up and as she saw that all of them were unharmed, she smiled brightly, even as tears filled her eyes.

Aelin kissed Rowan fiercely, her happiness a song in her blood.

She kissed their children awake, even as they grumbled at the rude interruption, and when Elentiya asked if they could have hot chocolate for breakfast, Aelin promised a mountain's worth of the drink.

Neither Aelin or Rowan attended their royal duties for the day, and instead spent the day with their children, and invited Aedion along, since he would be leaving the next day. Aelin's eyes were bright and full of love.

[hansolmates]

cherry contact |🍒

summary: jihoon has access to all versions of you - your credit score, shopping habits, work emails, even your terrible tinder history. pairing; fbi agent!jihoon x civilian!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, it’s really just that “your fbi agent” meme that caused everyone 8 years ago to put tape over their webcams, questionable viewing habits for an fbi agent, language, dick talk, mentions of sex, jihoon has feelings and is confused, he is a PINER, tw—sexual harassment  w/c; 3.3k  a/n; i can’t believe i finished this😭😭 part of meraki’s job collaboration and i’ve been dying to do a svt collab since the dawn of time and finally today’s the day! it’s been a hot moment since i’ve written for jihoon, glad i managed to get those svt writing muscles going! a huge thank you to @merakiiverse​ and @woozisnoots​ for putting this together. readers pls definitely check back on the masterlist linked above to see more of the other talented cwc writers and their rendition of the job prompt!

if you like this fic please consider giving it a like n’share!🤓🖥🤓🖥

“Kevin, 32, works at Kodak,” you scroll further to the description, “I love being tied up and need a dominatrix, have swing at home—no.” Swipe right. 

“Lisa, 24, works at Infinity Dance Studio,” you definitely are weak for athletic ladies, “My hobbies include cuticle care and online shopping! Looking for a sugar daddy or mommy that can spoil me rotten—definitely can’t afford that kind of relationship.” Swipe right. 

“Hansol, 26, works in an art museum,” sounds promising, you love art, “wait, why are all his pictures of him holding fish? Is he inside a fish? Who the heck finds that attractive?” Swipe right. 

“Billiam, 31, works in finance. Needs a bratty baby girl who can triangle,” you grimace, “what is with these guys and stating their kinks from the get-go? Gotta take a girl out to dinner first, and the fuck is a triangle?” 

You swore off Tinder since the dark ages, also known as senior year of college. However you’re in a particular slump, thirst-trapped between needing some serious dick and a committed relationship. You’d prefer the latter, but after a stressful day at work and the fact that it’s the ass crack o’dawn, you’ll take what you can get. 

“Bye Billiam,” you sing-song into your phone, moving to swipe right. 

Except you accidentally drop your phone between your sheets, and when you pick it up you accidentally swipe left. 

“Fuck fuck fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget!” you cry out into oblivion. You’re so glad you live alone at the very least, it stops you from looking like a crazy person when you talk your potential sexipades out. 

Billiam has Super-liked you! 

“No. Nononono—” you bludgeon your head against your pillow, frowning when your phone opens up a chat for you and Billiam. 

Billiam: hi can u check if my dick is too small

You: please, don’t send me a picture of your dick. 

Billiam is typing… 

You: for fuck’s sake—

“—that’s disgusting,” Jihoon curses, and immediately sends out the screenshot for sexual harassment. 

“What’s disgusting?” Mingyu chimes, swiveling in his spinny chair from his side of the room.

“Don’t look,” Jihoon gags, reaching for a bottle of Coca-Cola from the mini-fridge. “You’ll throw up your fried chicken.” 

“My person is a twenty-one year old nympho who also happens to be a incel,” Mingyu chastises to his screen, closing up the eighth tab of BBC porn he’s seen this week, “he doesn’t know how well he’s avoiding the FBI’s eyes,” Mingyu shakes his head, “so I’ve seen some pretty bad shit, but I’ll take your word for it.” 

“No,” he echoes your name like you’ve done the most heinous thing in the world, “no, no! Why would you swipe left on Jackson? You’re way out of his league! He literally looks like he has a pea-sized brain!” 

“He does look like he has half a brain cell,” your voice reverberates through his noise-cancelling headphones, unknowingly agreeing to Jihoon’s passionate throw of anger, “but I’m deprived and desperate, so!” 

It’s like you can hear his sentiments exactly. 

“Literally, you could have any person you want,” Jihoon chastises through his desktop, glaring heavily at your bedroom camera, “you’re wasting your time with these losers!” 

Oblivious, you let yourself dangle across the bed. The camera isn’t the best quality, but Jihoon watches intently at the rise and fall of your chest as you attempt to fall into a fitful sleep. 

“Some yell at screens for soccer,” Minghao says to the air from his cubicle, “some yell for Starcraft, but Jihoon yells for Tinder like it’s an Olympic sport.” 

“Jihoonie,” Mingyu rolls around his chair, resting a long arm over the backrest, “do you have a crush on your civilian?” 

Jihoon immediately swivels around his hair, meeting the amused eyes of Mingyu. “No,” he says sharply, whipping around to glare at his screen. 

He glares harder the longer Mingyu’s simple question sinks in. He doesn’t have a crush on you, he likes you. Jihoon swallows his sigh, wondering why you would want to go as low as Tinder to look for a potential tryst. From your profile, you’re absolutely beautiful and intelligent. You have simple pleasures that match his—a hot cup of tea right after dark, snuggling under a weighted blanket while watching anime, and sleeping in on Sundays.

Unlike him, you don’t see the world through half a dozen lenses and a plethora of information right at your fingertips. No, you’re lucky. 

“Hey can you grab me my water bottle?” Mingyu asks over his shoulder. 

Jihoon thinks nothing of it, leaving his post for the thirty seconds it takes to get to the mini-fridge and grab Mingyu’s Hydroflask. 

“You got a call,” Mingyu says when he plops the bottle on his desk, indicating to the red blinker on Jihoon’s computer. 

It isn’t until he puts on his headphones does he take care to see why his blinker is going off. 

He’s getting an incoming call. From you. 

You’ve been waiting on the line for about two minutes. He lets two additional minutes breeze by because Jihoon is internally screaming. You’re calling again. There’s a fire blazing in his brain, his fingers hot as he twitches against the spacebar of his keyboard. 

From the monitor he can see that you’ve given up on sleep, hands pawing through your drawer so you can take a final swipe at your magenta-tinted lip balm before nesting yourself in the sheets. You’re kicking around as if you don’t have work at 9AM, smacking your lips to apply the shiny salve while you wait for your call to be picked up. 

“Why is my civilian calling me,” it isn’t a question, it’s a thinly veiled indication that Jihoon is ready to fight whoever compromised him like this. 

Mingyu and Minghao fail to answer. That’s okay, he isn’t opposed to killing both if neither fess up. 

It would be so easy for him to ignore the call, or redirect it to another part of the office. Yet he aches to talk to you, for real talk to you. As if you’re just two regular plain-old human beings with normal lives, and as if he didn’t know every nook and cranny about your daily routine and your favorite breakfast foods.

Call it pride, call it confidence, but Jihoon’s been pretty good at games and he hopes prior experience helps him get over this hurdle. Slipping on his headset, he accepts the call and answers in a controlled voice, “This is the local hotline for sexual harassment reports, are you here to report a case?” 

Okay, so this is the closest thing he can get to having a full-fledged conversation with you, so he’ll take it. 

“Hi,” you mumble your name into the phone, and he nearly disintegrates right then and there. It’s different when he can hear your voice directly in his ears, definitively reaching out to him as opposed to being a fly on the wall, “I received an email that a report was sent out for my previous chat as sexual harassment, but I didn’t send out a report.” 

“Yes,” Jihoon replies smoothly, tapping his nails against his thighs, “it’s a new update.” 

“Oh, well thank you,” you reply, and Jihoon sees from the camera that you’re staring at your phone in curiosity. 

“It’s my job,” he says, and the words hold more weight than you think, “are you okay?” 

“Is it also your job to ask how I’m doing?” 

He smiles wryly, and he looks up at the monitor to see how you’ve considerably relaxed on your bed. Your legs dangle in the air, and you’re hugging a mango plushie with all the love in the world. “Not really, but I figured I’d ask. I don’t think I’d be able to recover from a dick that looks like an unhinged toenail.” 

Your laugh flutters in his ears, and his stomach is flip-flopping with more than just his shitty ramen lunch. Your face curls and wrinkles into happiness at the lewd joke, and you rest your chin on your stuffed fruit. 

“I’m okay,” you finally answer, “it’s not the first time I’ve seen subpar dick. But thank you… what’s your name?” 

“Uji,” he says, a codename that he considers as precious as his actual name, “feel free to call or text this number if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable and in distress.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night Uji.” 

“Good night.” 

That wasn’t so bad, Jihoon thinks as he hangs up the phone. He dims the monitors to let you freshen up and get ready for bed, as per your schedule. After tonight, he hopes he can be sated with his curiosity of you. Maybe he needs to follow your plans and open up a dating account or something, he feels that he’s starting to get a little too engrossed in your presence. 

The waning starts today. 

You: help, i’m feeling uncomfortable and in distress

Uji: what is it this time? 

You: i can’t decide which weighted blanket i should get. Will more weight make me feel more comforted or will i accidentally suffocate myself in my sleep? 

The waning of you did not start that night, in fact it never began. Jihoon’s been on edge for weeks, simultaneously teetering between what he calls the high-school equivalent of the talking stage and an absolute catastrophe. 

It started as an accident, you meant to call your friend’s number for cooking help but since the last call before your friends was his, you called Jihoon instead. To your surprise, he knew how to roll out homemade pasta without a pasta machine. You kept him on the call for the entirety of dinner preparation, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride when your pasta turned out perfect and you were happy and full for the entire night. 

Weeks later, and you’ve been texting each other for shits and giggles. At first you chalk up your insistence that he’s basically Human Google and has the answers to seemingly anything and everything, but over time it seems that you enjoy your daily interactions with him. Whether it be a simple phone call asking how to unclog your drain or a screenshot comparing two different KitchenAids, he’s at your disposal. 

The burner phone he’s been holding as of late is on silent, but he’s able to pick it up immediately. It’s almost intuition, coupled with the way he notices whenever you seem in a pickle and you need to contact him. However he does not have a chance to formulate a reply, as you’re now calling him.

“Couldn’t wait?” he speaks as if you’re familiar with each other, as if you’re friends. Jihoon longs for that so much, he would love to be upgraded to someone other than the IT guy you text for funsies. 

“Yes,” you say, voice laced with determination, “I’m deciding on whether to just like or Super-Like this guy on Light a Flame.” 

Jihoon deflates a little, but steels himself. You’d never want to go on a date with the IT guy, it seems that you enjoy the anonymity of your recent communications. Your conversations are definitely meme-worthy. 

“Who is it?” 

“His name’s Lee Jihoon, 25, works in the FBI.” 

He chokes on his coffee, precious beans from Argentina, and the liquid is flying across his keyboard. 

Pulling up your phone view, it confirms the worst. In a moment of Weakness with a capital W, Jihoon had caved and made a Light a Flame profile the other night. It’s an app reserved for more serious relationships, which means you’ve finally graduated from Tinder. 

“Are you okay?” he wants to cry when he hears you on the other line, genuinely panicked. “Do you need me to send you his profile?” 

“N-no,” he sputters, rubbing a rough napkin from McDonalds over his dripping chin. He thought he privated his profile last week after he realized there was nothing he could do to let loose of you. Turns out that isn’t the case, because you’re currently pursuing his profile and actually kinda-sorta considering him for a potentially serious relationship. 

“C’mon, Uji,” you tease lightly, “you always seem to know what to do. This is your area of expertise after all, since you work for that kind of department.” 

What should he do, scratch that, what can he do? It’s a complete violation of policy to be fraternizing with his civilian life. Sure, there has been episodes of civilians and agents meeting each other, but only minor violations that both parties forgot about shortly after. He’s so far deep at this point, he can risk being relocated or losing his civilian—losing you. 

“Do you think he really works in the FBI?” you say when he doesn’t reply immediately, “he’s really cute, though. Totally looks like my style, and he likes My Hero as well! C’mon, I just need for you to check as to whether he’s a homicidal maniac or a compulsive liar.” 

Liar. He’s a liar. 

That self-accusation prompts him to slump in defeat, and he mumbles in the phone, “I don’t think he’s worth it. I’d say pass.” 

“Hey, Coups has seniority,” Soonyoung pats Jihoon thoughtfully on the back with one hand, and grilling meat with the other. Barbeque always lifted up Jihoon’s spirits. “Why don’t you give it a chance and meet her for real? And then he can give me your super cute civilian and then he can give my shitty civilian to some newbie.” 

“And if it doesn’t work out, I just lose her,” Jihoon’s eyes are watering, most likely from the excess smoke around their grill, but it does align with his current state of sadness. It was the right thing to do, he thinks over and over as he replays that phonecall from last night. “Hoshi, if you were in my situation, would you have done the same?” 

“Like I said–” Soonyoung—codename Hoshi, waves his tongs around like a magic wand, “your civilian is super cute, so I would be making a beeline to her house and—” 

“Okay, don’t finish that sentence,” you’re his civilian, not Soonyoung’s. 

“Cheer up, c’mon,” Soonyoung’s filling his bowl with all sorts of delicious things, charred vegetables, mixed rice, and pork belly. Jihoon’s favorite is pork belly, so eventually he relents with a timid smile, taking out his chopsticks to appease his friend, “there it is, Uji. Food always makes things better—” 

“Uji?” 

Both off-duty agents freeze, hearing the familiar ting of your voice as it glares holes into Jihoon’s back. It’s you. Since they’re off the clock, he would have no idea you’d be here. Usually that’s fine, it’s early morning and it’s pretty unlikely that you’d run into your civilian considering you’re supposed to know every second of their schedule. It seems that tonight you’ve varied from the norm. 

“Uh, hey?” 

His back is still facing you, and he’s side eying Soonyoung in a panic. He’s wearing a cap and a nondescript hoodie, feeling like a shlub as your familiar voice pings back at him with excitement. 

“I knew I recognized your voice!” you’re unfazed, definitely not realizing the distress the two men are currently going through. “What a small world, I didn’t think we’d ever actually run into each other!” 

“Talk to her, you ass!” Soonyoung hisses, and immediately swivels his chair so he has no choice but to face you.

You’re so, so pretty. Prettier in person, prettier than any crappy 480p screen can give him. You’re definitely not dressed for barbeque, in fact you look like you’re just passing by to pick up a to-go order after a night out. You’re dressed in a silky looking velvet off-the-shoulder top, the cherry red color practically melting onto your skin. The black skirt paired with it has Jihoon salivating for more than just barbeque, and he has no idea how to look away. 

The smile is wiped clean off your face however, and you recognize him almost immediately. “Jihoon?” 

This should be a moment of joy for him, after all it’s far too late to go back at this point. You look a little hurt, your face twisted in confusion as you put two and two together. 

Soonyoung excuses himself to go to the bathroom, although neither party seems to care. The lame, over-distended EDM music that plays over the cacophony of the barbeque place seems to melt in the atmosphere, much like how the smoke hits the fan, and it’s just you two in the room. Jihoon gestures a pale hand to Soonyoung’s seat, and you take a beat to reluctantly sit yourself down. 

You clutch your skirt with both hands, thumbs ringing against the pleats and ironing them out. “So, you’re also Jihoon?” your voice is tiny, small and sad. Jihoon feels liquid guilt inject in his veins, and he wishes he could reach out and pat your shoulder, hold your hand, something. However no matter how much he knows you, he’s a stranger to you. “Why did you lie to me?” 

“It’s… complicated,” you shake your head at his pathetic reply, and Jihoon hates this. He feels like he’s drowning in smoke and mirrors and the cloying scent of pork belly is now sticking to all his senses, immobilizing him. 

With a cross of your arms, you scoff, “It’s always complicated.” 

“Please don’t think I said those things the other night because I don’t want to date you,” Jihoon tumbles the words out like a hamster wheel, wanting to speed up to your pace as fast as he can, “I want to, I really do, but it’s—”

“Complicated.” 

“Yeah.” 

The two of you sit in silence, letting the noise back into your little bubble. Jihoon feels his stare on you, akin to how a teacher looks over your shoulder during an exam. He robotically eats rice, grain after grain as he lets you have your look. 

The slope of his nose, the cotton smooth skin, the lean yet strong stature. You can’t believe he matches the Light a Flame profile perfectly. Other than the frumpy clothes, he matches the man on your phone, a simple picture in a black suit that reminds you strangely of the movie Kingsman. You mentally roll through what you remember from his profile, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, his occupation—

“Wait,” you pause, your brows knitting together, “so the FBI thing on your profile… is not a joke?” 

Jihoon forgets to chew his last bite, and he swallows a whole two centimeters of meat down his throat. Ouch. 

“It’s—” 

“Complicated.” 

The adjective has a whole new meaning now. It’s crazy how in so little words, so much is exchanged between you two. You might not be realizing it, but Jihoon’s so attuned to you he feels like the pick to your guitar, strumming and humming along your chords like it’s second nature. It really isn’t fair, but anticipating your reactions helps greatly. 

“There’s things you’re not telling me.” 

“Right.” 

“And things you can’t tell me,” you add. 

“Yes.” 

“Then what are some things you can tell me?” 

“I’d… rather not here,” Jihoon’s eyes dart around the room, looking for all the pinholes and micro cams attached to the restaurant. By the bonsai, under the table, in the koi tank, “I need to work out some paperwork before anything.” 

“Paperwork?” 

Jihoon nods mutely, but he looks at you with a litany of emotions in his eyes you’re reeling back in your stool. Why do you feel like this man knows you from a simple five-minute interaction? And why do you feel like you can trust this man with your life? 

“Okay,” you finally say. 

“Really? Okay?” you think he’s cute, the way his eyes perk up and his back straightens. 

“Really.” 

Silence fills the space once more. This time however, it feels more at ease. 

“The only reason why I’m saying yes,” you pretend to nonchalantly play with your fingertips, a manicure reserved for a date you’ve long abandoned for this evening in favor of a new flame, “is because I think FBI agents are kinda hot.” 

A flush blooms on Jihoon’s cheeks, and you can’t help but giggle.