#i don’t have the words to convey how much I love this dumbass video

[smoshmonker]

ooh how about: single favorite 2005-2008 vid 👀

going to the mountains, going to the mountains! go go go go go go go go going to the mountaaaains 🎶

ask me stuff!

[spaghetti666lover]

“The Thing I Miss The Most” - Ronniecoln fanfiction, 2k words

Hey everyone! I’ve been off Tumblr a lot recently due to school and personal life issues, but my dumbass is finally back, and I have this to share! I’ve been thinking about writing a Ronniecoln fic for quite a while now since I can never find any good ones, so here it is! I may write more fics in the future for different shows and books, depends on how much energy I’ll have and how much I’ll hyperfixate

Anyways, enjoy this fic!

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It was a relaxing evening at Green Lakes City. The sky was clear of clouds as a warm glow covered the streets and buildings around the area. While waiting for the sun to set down, the two friends were sitting in the park, chatting about whatever they desired.

"I'm telling you, it was huge! Lisa hasn't made an explosion this big since Christmas!" Lincoln threw his hands to the sides, trying to convey how large the outburst was.

"So that's why Vanzilla broke down when you were next to us on Christmas eve?" Ronnie Anne asked, giggling before asking the question.

"Well… not exactly. I'll tell you about that some other time." Lincoln rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment, figuring he should keep that part a secret. 

"That's another story to the list, I guess." She joked again "Sometimes I wonder why you even come to visit with all that stuff happening there." 

"Let's just say I have my reasons, don't you worry about it." He joked as well, trying to go alone with her tone. Truth be told, even with everything happening in Royal Woods, he still jumped at every opportunity to go see her, which made him think about that habit more often than he should have. "So what happened with the sloth again?" 

"Oh, right!" She remembered the story she was telling before the two of them got sidetracked "So after we found it, Sid insisted we call her mom first to tell her, but then-" Ronnie Anne continued going on about her story again, but with no matter how much he tried to focus, Lincoln's mind drifted somewhere else.

When Ronnie Anne just moved away from Royal Woods, Lincoln thought he was gonna be fine with it. Sure, it may have felt a little different, but it was bound to happen. That change was going to start one way or another, and he was going to be there for her whenever she needed it. To be frank, he didn't expect to feel the way he did.

Back when Ronnie Anne still lived there, his relationship with her was constantly changing. They started out as a sort of enemies, which turned into a weird friendship, that then became genuine care for each other. But even then, he didn't think much of it. Not until she was gone.

Things started to feel different. There was no prank during sloppy joe Thursday, or anyone to call him 'Lame-O' whenever he passed by his locker, or even the presence of someone flying by him on a skateboard after school, waving to him afterwards.

Soon enough, Lincoln started to miss things about Ronnie Anne he didn't even think he noticed before. He missed seeing her pass by his house on her way to the skate park during the weekend, or how her smile grew bigger as soon as they got out of school. He missed hearing her laugh after he said something unbelievably dorky or whenever they were watching cat videos together. He missed the tough yet caring attitude she had whenever bandging him up after he made a fool out of himself while skating. It didn't take long for him to realize that he didn't just miss all those little things about her, he missed her.

To him, Royal Woods just wasn't the same without Ronnie Anne. He wanted to go see her so often because she was the missing piece in his puzzle. The person he grew to cherish. 

But on the other hand, Ronnie Anne seems to do just fine in her new place.

While Lincoln was feeling sad and gloomy about her being away, Ronnie Anne thrived in the new and exciting metropolis. While she took time getting used to the big family life, she grew to love it and enjoy the chaotic moments with her energetic and affectionate relatives. Her abuelos were always keeping everyone in check, her tío and tía were showering her with new knowledge and tears of love every time, her primos were all loveable and fun in their own way, her mom and brother could finally spend more time with her, her dad even moved there to be a part of her life again.

Not only that, but Ronnie Anne found a friend group quicker than expected. Unsurprisingly, the big city is full of rugged and cool kids just like her, and despite the initial worry, she connected with them super well. Heck, she even found herself a new best friend, who had way more cool knowledge and energy. Ronnie Anne clicked with her almost on the spot, and they are even neighbors, so they spend every day together enjoying the suburbs and streets to the fullest. 

Moving to the city changed Ronnie Anne as a person, anyone who knew her from before could tell that, especially Lincoln. Her distant and annoyed personality faded away once she was able to start a new page and leave the 'toughest girl' persona behind for good.

Lincoln didn't wanna be a bad friend about it. He knew life in Royal Woods wasn't exactly treating her well, and living in Green Lakes was what she deserves because it made her a happier person. He's glad she found a place she feels better in, but despite the constant reminders in his head, he couldn't help but miss their times in Royal Woods, just a little. With everything she has there, maybe she just… doesn't miss him, like he misses her. If they hadn't talked on a daily basis, maybe she would've forgotten about him by now. Maybe he's just not interesting like the city and people around, maybe she–

"Linc? Lincoln? Are you okay?" 

Suddenly, the concerned and caring voice pulled him back to reality, and he remembered where he was and what he should've been thinking about this whole time. He looked at her after realizing his train of thoughts, noticing the look of confusion and worry on her face.

"Lincoln, are you okay? Were you listening to what I saying?" Ronnie Anne asked, trying to figure out what caused the expression on Lincoln's face.

"Oh-- Yeah, yeah! I'm good! Sorry, I was just thinking! About…. Stuff." Lincoln responded with a nervous demeanor, hoping his spacing out didn't seem like a big issue. 

Despite the uncertain answer, Ronnie Anne didn't seem to be convinced.

"Are you sure?" She asked again, dropping the previous conversation "What's on your mind? Maybe I can help or something." 

"I– It's–" Lincoln tried to think of an excuse or a better explanation to this, before his train of thoughts took him to another ride. What reason does he have not to tell her? They had personal and deep conversations before, they opened up to each other about things, and besides, she's his best friend. The worst he'll get out of this is a confused response and a laugh, and the best is a genuine answer, so he has nothing to lose.

He thought about it for another second or two, before finally biting the bullet. 

"Well… I just have a question for you, if you're cool with answering and everything." 

"Huh?" She looked at him with confusion at first, but shrugged off as the calm smile returned to her face "Sure, so what's going on?" 

"Well, it's just something that crossed my mind and you're totally free to not answer if you don't want to, but… what do you miss most about Royal Woods?" He tried asking in a casual tone to the best of his abilities, but inside, he was really hoping for some sort of answer.

"Oh, well, I can answer that." She said, with a thoughtful look on her face "I guess the first thing is my room. I mean, don't get me wrong, the room I have now is great, but I had more space in Royal Woods. And also peace. You can't exactly skateboard indoors in our apartment." 

Lincoln tried to keep a high spirit as he listened to her, but his storm of thoughts pulled him back inside. Maybe she didn't think about it like he did. Maybe she just has it better out here, with all those new people.

"I miss flippees too. No matter what drinks we have here, they just can't top that flavor."  

Maybe he was being delusional when he hoped for a different answer. Maybe she just doesn't miss– 

"And also… someone." 

"Huh?"

That answer stopped his storm of thoughts at once. Someone? 

"Wait, someone?" 

"Yeah, it's a person who's really important to me." Ronnie Anne spoke as the smile on her face grew bigger, as if hinting at something. "He's kind of a dork, but he was there for me even when I couldn't always be for him. I guess he's just really special in my opinion." 

"Really?" Lincoln asked, dumbfounded at the new person she mentioned. Who is that? Maybe a family member? Or a friend he didn't know about? "Wait, who is that person?" He asked, having no idea on who she's talking about.

However, at that question, Ronnie Anne laughed, making him even more confused.

"You seriously don't know?" 

"No? Who is it???" 

His confusion got one more laugh out of her, before the genuine smile of hers came to the surface.

"Lincoln, it's you." 

Huh?

Lincoln stopped almost instantly. It's  him? He's that important person? That doesn't make sense. Not with all the amazing people she has in her life now.

"Me? But that– that doesn't make any sense," he started speaking now, as if letting all of his thoughts speak up and speak loud "I mean- You have all those amazing people now, and Royal Woods isn't all that special in comparison, and I'm not even that important! So why you–" 

"Linc, you're you. That's what makes you so important." Ronnie Anne looked at him for a moment, shutting him up as the sparkle in her eyes was noticeable as the sun washed over her. She looked away, the calm smile on her face always remaining. 

"Royal Woods wasn't that special to me because I was always lonely there, but it's thanks to you that things actually changed. If it was anyone else, they probably would've stopped talking to me after a day or two because of who I was, but you still stuck by me even when I wasn't the best person around, and it was thanks to you I was able to learn a ton of stuff about myself and other people,  and I don't think I would've been doing as great as I am now without you around. So even if you don't think you're something special, well…." 

Her hand was suddenly resting on his as he looked up at her in genuine surprise, seeing her caring smile directed at him once more.

"You'll always be special to me." 

With that one sentence, all of Lincoln's worries seemed to disappear on a whim. The voice of Ronnie Anne kept echoing in his head as he felt his burning up, was he blushing? Well, whatever it was, it didn't matter. He felt like he could stay in this moment forever, overwhelmed with happiness and butterflies in his stomach.

Before he knew it, Ronnie Anne pulled away and gave him a light punch on the arm, giving her usual laugh to go along with it.

"Man, I was really cheesy there. You gotta let me know when I get lost with words like some sappy person." 

Lincoln nodded slowly for a moment, still thinking about the moment from before, but her laughter did nothing but contribute to his growing grin, and his cheeks heating up, of course. He may have felt as if his face was on fire, but something in him just couldn't recognize anything else but his dear friend next to him and the growing fluttery feeling inside him as he laughed along. 

"Well, I'll try, but no promises!" He joked one more time, before realizing how much time had passed. "Oh, look! The sun is setting down!" 

"Huh?" She turned around to see the orange glow beginning to fade, saying in surprise "Oh, nice!", before turning to face the lovely scene.

Lincoln turned to face the sun as well, but as he rested his head on his arms and knees, he turned away for just a moment.

Ronnie Anne, despite everything they went through, was still there, right next to him. Her smile glowed in the fading light, and her eyes sparkled at the sunset in joy. The tingly feeling in his stomach returned, and Lincoln couldn't help but look at her in a fond smile.

Maybe he should tell her there is someone special in his life too. Someday.

[timothyjimothy74]

Lover - Matthew Tkachuk ft. Brady Tkachuk

A/N: Don’t mind me, I’ve been listening to Taylor Swift on repeat again.

Word Count: ~1.2k

Spending the summer with the Tkachuks was pretty much going exactly how Y/N expected it when her boyfriend Matthew invited her. It was a non-stop party. Playing sports and video games with the Tkachuk siblings while Walt chirped everyone, watching tv together, going roller blading together, taking turns throwing each other in the pool, ditching the boys with Taryn to go shopping or drive around jamming to music, watching hockey or baseball together, movie nights and constant chirping. Y/N grew up an only child and she’d always dreamed of having a big family to spend the whole summer with. There was just one problem, she had barely gotten any alone time with Matthew.

Someone else was always around until nighttime. And then, Chantal had only agreed to let Matthew have a woman spend the summer with them if she slept in the guest bedroom. She respected Chantal (and was a little afraid of her wrath) and didn’t want to break her rules, but she was getting desperate.

One night, after tossing and turning for awhile, she grabbed her phone and unplugged it from the nightstand.

Y/N

12:11 a.m.

Hi

Matt

Hey, beautiful. Can’t sleep?

Y/N

Nope. I miss you even though we’re in the same house, it’s kind of gross. Why can’t you sleep?

Matt

I’m missing you too. Yeah, you’re right. This is kind of gross

Y/N

I might have an idea…

Matt

I’m listening

Y/N

Meet me in the kitchen in 10?

Matt

I should probably ask what we’re doing, but I know better by now

Y/N

:’)

Y/N got out of bed slowly and tried to be as quiet as she could as she put her slippers on and opened her door. The house was silent as she crept down the stairs to the kitchen. When she arrived, Matt was already there, looking away from her. She slowly walked up behind him and put her arms around his waist, trying to convey how much she loved him. He usually loved that.

Until now apparently.

“AHHHHHHHHH!!!!” Matthew screamed and turned around as fast as he could.

Once he saw it was her, he put his hand over his chest and started breathing heavily.

Y/N sighed. “You dumbass, you definitely woke up the whole house if not the whole neighborhood.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s scary down here at night with all the lights off,” Matthew said as his breathing finally returned to normal.

“Well, we better go back to bed before your whole family comes running down here thinking you’re being murdered,” Y/N said with a small smile. She couldn’t be mad at him when all she wanted to do was laugh at him.

Matthew paused and looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t hear anyone running. Just tell me your idea.”

Y/N smiled and walked toward the fridge with Matthew trailing closely behind her. She opened the freezer, reached back in the very back behind a few bags of frozen vegetables and pulled out the pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chantal had gotten (and hidden) for her.

“Oh my god, where did you get that?” Matthew asked, practically salivating at just the sight of it.

“I’m not telling. I will share it with you though,” Y/N smiled at him.

Matthew practically ran to get spoons. Once he brought them back, they managed to down the whole pint in just a few minutes. With Matthew on a strict diet (that did not include ice cream) and training routine to stay in shape in the offseason, it felt like they were sharing a secret.

“Okay, now I have an idea,” Matthew said with a small smirk as he threw the ice cream container away.

“Oh god.”

For once, Matthew had nothing to say, but he pulled out his phone and a few seconds later, a song started lightly playing.

“Can I have this dance?” he asked as he bowed to her and held his hand out.

She gladly accepted it and he brought her close to him and started swaying them back and forth. “I can’t believe you’re playing Lover by Taylor Swift right now. I feel like I need to write this down in my calendar.” They both chuckled. “This song reminds me of you, of us.” Y/N smiled. Matthew started lightly singing the chorus to her. She stared up in adoration at him for awhile until he nudged her side. She knew he wanted her to sing along with him so she did. When the next verse started, Matthew said, “I can’t wait to have our own place together. We can do this every night.”

This wasn’t the first time Matthew had brought it up, but it was the first time Y/N felt ready to say yes. “I’ll go where you go. I’d love to feel as close to you as I do tonight.”

Matthew was so excited that he took the chance to spin her in a few circles. When he brought her back close to him, she was looking over his shoulder, but he didn’t think anything of it. Then they purposefully sang, “I swear to be over dramatic and true to my lover” to each other with huge smiles on their faces. It couldn’t describe them more.

They continued to dance until the song ended. Matthew leaned down for a kiss when she stopped him and spoke. “You guys can come join us if you want.” Matthew whipped around to see his whole family trying to hide in the hallway. Brady was hysterically laughing, Chantal and Taryn were crying and Walt was just shaking his head at all of them.

“How long were you guys watching us?” Matthew asked, kind of afraid to learn the answer.

“We came in right before you started playing Taylor Swift,” Brady managed to get out between giggles. Matthew’s face turned red.

“Yeah, your scream woke up the whole house, genius,” Walt added.

Matthew turned to face Y/N. “Did you know they were there the whole time?”

“No, I didn’t see them until the song was almost over. I thought I’d let them see your soft side for a few more minutes. It’s nice,” Y/N smiled. Matthew couldn’t help but smile back at her even though his brother still couldn’t stop chirping him.

“It is nice, honey,” Chantal finally spoke up now that she had stopped crying. “I’ve never seen you this happy.”

“Me either,” Brady, Walt and Taryn said simultaneously.

Y/N smiled at them. “So do we think it’s me or the ice cream that made him so happy?”

Everyone laughed. Well everyone except Brady. “Ice cream?! There was ice cream in the house and I missed it?”

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m exhausted. Goodnight everyone,” Y/N said as she fled the room.

Standing in the hallway, she could hear Brady say to Matthew, “I can’t believe you didn’t share with me. That totally breaks bro code.”

Matthew was quick to respond to that. “You know what else breaks bro code is not giving me any time alone with my girlfriend so she feels the need for us to sneak down here in the middle of the night and eat hidden eat ice cream just for us to get any alone time.”

Brady thought for a second and smiled in self-satisfaction. “Whatever, lover boy.”

[whumpmatsus]

Why hello there new blog. 👀 I shall watch with interest. Would it be fine to ask for Karamatsu with a bad stomachache/similar?

hehe, I hope you enjoy watching!

and YES of course! God I'm such a Karamatsu girl 😩

We've got some of everything here, I think? Oops All Matsus! XD ... but the Choukeimatsu is definitely strong in this one haha

enjoooooy! <3

-

It’s kind of a given that in a house with six brothers in close quarters, anything one of them catches is going to end up running its way through all of them.

It’s… less of a given that Karamatsu is going to be the one who recovers last.

Most of the time he’s the first one to push through it, seemingly via sheer power of will because he wants to take care of the others. Or, at least, he’s not usually the one still down for the count when everyone else is on the mend.

This time around, he’s been curled up on the couch since all of them woke up this morning. They’re all feeling fine, while he’s apparently still feeling like crap.

He’s set himself up with a wastebasket nearby and he’s refused everything his brothers have tried to shove down his throat ― water, food, even medicine is turned away. They all might think he’s just being stubborn if not for the fact that he’s so clearly still sick. Regardless, they’ve stopped trying to offer since they know he isn’t going to take any of it.

As far as Karamatsu himself is concerned, if whatever sickness he’s got is going to kill him, he wishes it would hurry up and do so already. He doesn’t know how much more he can take. There’s an uncomfortable, cramping heat in his belly that’s constantly threatening to flip into something much worse. He’s been vomiting for a couple days now, on and off, like the rest of his brothers. Unlike them, however, it hasn’t gotten much better for him.

He tries so hard to be cool and unbothered. This is starting to worry him, though. How come everyone else is back to normal while he continues to struggle not to puke at the mere thought of plain rice?

For as much as Totty claims to hate germs, the youngest has been camping out next to the couch most of the morning, playing on his phone. It affords Karamatsu a view of the games Totty’s playing and the videos he’s watching; distractions as he tries to keep himself from tossing what little there is left to toss in his stomach. He isn’t sure whether or not Totty planned it that way, just that he’s grateful for something else to focus on other than the unbearable nausea.

“Heyyyy, Karamatsu-nii-san,” he suddenly speaks up, holding the phone closer to his miserable older brother’s line of sight. “What do you think of this pretty girl? Is her dress the right color for winter? It’s cute, but, I don’t know… I think maybe she would have looked better in blue…”

Now, Karamatsu isn’t sure what it is about the video clip Totty is showing him. It might be the bright lights in the background, or it might be the twirling motions the woman on the screen is making. Or, quite frankly, it might be nothing at all, since he feels so horrible.

But only a few seconds after he squints at the video clip, his stomach rebels against something. Although he wants to reply to his dearest younger brother, the second he parts his lips to give a clever retort, he feels his stomach clench. Saliva pools in his mouth, and he quickly raises a hand up to his face.

He swallows once. Twice. Three times. He tries to take a breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth like Choromatsu taught him. Nothing helps, because he ends up gagging anyway.

Immediately Totty yelps and launches himself away from the sofa. All the noise, particularly Karamatsu’s heaving, catches the attention of the rest of the sextuplets. Soon enough, someone has hurried over to hold the wastebasket beneath him, and someone else is using what feels like all their strength to help prop him over it so he doesn’t miss.

A brief glance up reveals that the one holding him is Jyushimatsu ― of course, he’s the most coordinated of them all ― and Choromatsu is playing trashcan jockey. Karamatsu’s head swims again, and that small motion is all that’s needed for his stomach to protest again. He retches a few times before whatever is left, which can’t be much at this point, splatters into the can.

“Totty!” he can hear Choromatsu scolding the youngest. “W-what the hell was that for?!”

“What was what for?!” Totty retorts. “I was trying to cheer him up! It’s not my fault!”

Ichimatsu snickers from his spot in the corner. “Che, so you made Shittymastu sick by trying to help. Sounds about right for you.”

“Excuse me?! You take that back or I’ll post that video of you being a drunk asshole online so everyone can laugh at my big, dumb brother!”

“HEY!” It’s Osomatsu who quiets the entire room with one sharp word. He’s knelt next to the couch, one hand trying to keep Karamatsu’s hair out of his face. “Would you guys all shut the fuck up? For God’s sakes, let the poor bastard puke in peace! The last thing he needs is to hear you douches arguing while he’s giving the trashcan a new coat of paint!”

For his part, Karamatsu appreciates his older brother standing up for him when he’s unable to do so himself. It’s just a little hard to convey that when his body is trying to bring up everything he’s eaten ever in his life.

It hurts, too. The sensation in his stomach is tight now, painful like there’s a knife stuck in his middle. Every gag makes a stabbing, all-over pain spiderweb through his whole body. As if he’s made of porcelain and something is repeatedly making cracks.

Finally he thinks it should be over, because nothing else is coming up. He shudders and heaves and it doesn’t produce anything other than an uncomfortable ache in his throat. Honesty, his entire body is aching now.

He lets out a few ragged breaths before slumping back onto the sofa, predictably pulled into a more-careful-than-usual Jyushimatsu hug. “It’s okay, Karamatsu-nii-san! I’ve got you!!”

“Aaah.” Karamatsu lifts his hand and places it, shaking, on his little brother’s head to praise him for a job well done. “Jyushimatsu… I’ll leave it to you… to tell my Karamatsu girls… I loved them…”

He hears Ichimatsu scoff. “You should be more worried that you were puking without puking than your nonexistent fangirls, you dumbass.”

“Yeah, that was weird,” Osomatsu agrees. “You heard that too, Ichimatsu?”

“Mhm. It almost made me want to hurl again.”

“Yeah… he should be better by now. I mean, we’re all fine. And he hasn’t been eating, so it’s not like there’s anything left in there. What’s his stupid body trying to throw up? His Goddamn kidneys?”

Karamatsu hears Choromatsu groan. “Oh, my God, you guys are disgusting!” When Karamatsu looks up, the third eldest is hovering over him with a concerned expression. “Ah… they… might be right, though. Karamatsu-nii-san… you’re just as sick as we all were at the beginning of this. It doesn’t seem like you’ve improved like we have. How… do you feel now? Any better since you threw up?”

He tries to laugh. It comes out sounding more like a sob, though. “N… no…” It feels like even too deep a breath will tip the scale on his nausea and cause another avalanche. “I’m… I’m dizzy… it still hurts.”

“A-ah, gosh…” Choromatsu’s hand sets lightly against Karamatsu’s cheek, then neck, and if his face is any indicator, he doesn’t like what he feels. “You’ve… still got a fever. And you’re sweating and lightheaded and… still throwing up. Shit.”

He moves his hand to gently card through his big brother’s hair as if trying to reassure him. “Karamatsu-nii-san… d-do you think you could make it to the doctor? If we helped you?”

That’s not an idea he enjoys entertaining. Having to get up off the couch, bundle up in a coat, ride the train… it sounds so exhausting. He’s already tired. But… if Choromatsu is even bringing it up, he must think it’s a better idea than Karamatsu continuing to try and recover on the couch.

He manages a nod. “Sure… sure, if you help me.”

“Great.” Choromatsu straightens up and heads for the door. “I’ll go call the office and see if they can get you an appointment today. If they can, I’ll go with you, and…” He surveys the rest of the room. “… I’d prefer at least onemore person go with us, just in case.”

“Yeah, I’ll go, no problem.” The eldest’s voice is one Karamatsu didn’t expect to hear, though maybe he should have. Osomatsu is still lingering on the floor next to him, taking the spot where Totty was, and, now that Karamatsu thinks about it, he can feel his older brother gently rubbing his shoulder. “… Do you think maybe we should try to force him to drink something, too? You can’t survive without water, right?”

Choromatsu sighs; not necessarily because it’s one more thing to add to the list, but it sounds like he’s just worried. He probably doesn’t want to force one of his brothers to do anything ― especially one of his big brothers, and especially when said big brother is already so sick. “I mean… yeah, it’s not good that he hasn’t had anything to drink today, and not much in the last few days. Throwing up so much is probably making him dehydrated… which, stupidly enough, can make him throw up more.”

Osomatsu hums in thought and gives Karamatsu’s shoulder a small squeeze to get his attention. “Hey, Karamatsu. Do you think you could handle some tea?”

“Really weak tea,” Choromatsu hurries to clarify. “You’re not supposed to drink anything too intense after throwing up.”

Karamatsu shuts his eyes in a desperate bid to avoid the worried, pleading faces of his brothers looking back at him. Just thinking about anything going into his body and sliding down his throat right now makes his stomach swirl viciously.

He feels Jyushimatsu hug him a little tighter, which doesn’t help matters. “Aww, please, Karamatsu-nii-san! You can drink some tea for your little brother, right? Riiiiight?”

A groan is what he gets in response, though the giggling suggests he isn’t too broken up about it.

His hair is brushed back, and stroked through a few times. “Well,” Osomatsu says softly, “how about for your big brother, then?”

After a moment of thought, Karamatsu lets out a whimper, leaning his head closer that way in an obvious attempt for more affection. “I… suppose I do only have one older brother, after all…”

He hears Choromatsu chuckle by the door. “Good, good. I’ll make some, then. We’ll try not to make you drink too much… and… I’ll call the doctor while I boil water for it. Hopefully they can fit you in. In the meantime, just, um… try to rest, alright?”

At the very least, he doesn’t have to tell Karamatsu twice. The second eldest relaxes, keeping his eyes shut. He hears Osomatsu quietly urge Jyushimatsu to switch positions, and he scoots himself up onto the couch. Somehow he manages to pull Karamatsu into his lap, letting his younger brother curl up against his stomach.

“Hey, there. It’s okay. Big brother’s gotcha, Kara.” A careful touch runs up and down Karamatsu’s back, bringing the slightest sense of relief. “Get some sleep.”

Then Osomatsu pauses, and with a laugh he adds, “Just… warn me if you’re gonna puke again, okay?”

[nyxdelanuit]

Take a Fool like Me (Bokuto x Reader)

Finally finished this one lol Thank you for requesting this one babes <3

The lyrics for this one are from Fool Like Me- Cobra Starship

‘Your daddy always said you should stay away from a fool like me’

You were a bit nervous. Bokuto was a lot of things, but he was never much of a planner… but this morning your friend had shown up on your door, annoyed and holding a letter addressed to you. The instructions, hastily written by your long-time boyfriend, simply said to dress nice and follow his clues. Your friend stayed to help you get ready, making sure your hair was done up nicely and out of your face. Before she left you to your adventure, she let her soft scowl lift, giving you a gentle smile.

The clues were vague and messily written, dragging you around to spots you had spent the most time with Bokuto. The first was the park you had met him at for your first not-date. He invited you to watch him and Akaashi practice. You had sat on the sidelines for hours, watching Bokuto spike every set Akaashi sent his way. It was endearing the way he wore his emotions on his sleeve, and you desperately tried to hide your giggles in your sleeve at the whiplash inducing speed he went from cheering to sulking every time Akaashi told him his hit went out of bounds.  

You had an idea when you watched him and Akaashi wiping away the sweat from their faces with the hem of their shirts. It had been an exceptionally hot day, and they had been training pretty hard. Drinks would probably be nice! You never expected the rain cloud hanging over Bokuto’s head upon your return. He cheered up quickly when you strode up to him, drink in hand, letting him know you didn’t ditch him.

 The next clue was hanging from the poles of the volleyball net set up in the courtyard of the park, leading you away from your first happy memory with Bokuto. The clue led you through the streets the two of you wandered near daily in high school to the cafe that Bokuto took you on your first date. You still remembered how he had watched a video the night before, claiming he was now an expert at braiding hair. It took you two long hours to untangle the knots he had tied in your hair, but it was still a fond memory. The feeling of his fingers trailing through your hair and the reflection in the cafe windows of his concentrating expression would be forever engraved in your memory.

 Yukie was waiting for you at the end of the last clue. She stood outside the restaurant Bokuto took you to celebrate his acceptance into a professional volleyball team. The one where he had cheered loud enough to get the two of you kicked out, and with enough force that the wine you had planned to share ended up staining the length of your new, expensive dress. The two of you ate skewers from a food court on the way home that night. It was more your style anyways. Each clue had been harder to decipher, the frustration Bokuto had been feeling at trying to come up with clues easily read by his scribbling on each note.

Yukie greeted you like an old friend. Although she had never understood what you had seen in Bokuto, she had always been glad for your company during away games. She handed you the last note, not enough to even be a clue. Just an address and the words ‘Just get here quick, okay?’

 The day had slipped away from you into a beautiful twilight as you returned to your high school gym, where you used to sit in the bleachers and watch Bokuto practice before he walked you home each night. As eager as you were to enter, you heard voices inside. Your curiosity had stopped you outside the door, listening to the words as they filtered through the open windows.

“She’s late.” You were unused to the nervous shake in Bokuto’s voice.

“Well your ‘clues’ weren’t very easy to follow, but she’s smart. Give her a little more time.” Akaashi’s stoic voice was a relief to you, especially when you heard Kuroo chuckling at your poor boyfriend’s nerves.

“What if she doesn’t want to come? What if she didn’t get the first one? I always hear her friends say she should be with someone more mature. They don’t like me. Neither does her mom. I’m pretty sure her mom blocked my number.” You could hear Akaashi scoff.

“Well you have ruined a lot of her girl’s night outs. And you did manage to break one of her parent’s windows. Three separate times.”

“I said sorry!”

“Yeah! He’s just excitable!” Kuroo sounded closer now, probably consoling a depressed Bokuto.

“Regardless, you love her don’t you?” Akaashi sounded bored, but your trained ear could hear the undercurrent of comfort he was trying to convey.

“Of course! More than anything!” He almost sounded mad now, the range of his quickly shifting emotions was never something you got used to.

“And she loves you. You know that. Despite everything, she loves you.” It was quiet in the gym, far quieter than any other time Bo had occupied it. Then his loud cheer split the air, quickly joined by Kuroo’s. Akaashi’s sigh sounded fatigued, but you knew if you peaked through the door you’d find the soft smile he fought to keep off his face.

 You allowed yourself a moment to settle the feelings that bubbled in your chest at what you had heard. Every moment, every memory Bo had mentioned was one you looked upon fondly. You didn’t care to be with someone ‘safe,’ someone complacent. Bokuto made every day an adventure, and you loved him all the more from it.

That’s why you should have expected his head to pop out of the door, startling you out of your thoughts. His face lit up with excitement and apprehension all at once, and he ducked back into the gym, yelling, “She’s here!”

You had been found out, so you resigned yourself to walking through the door. The nerves ran through your veins, you had stepped through this doorway countless times. Why should now be any different?

 And then, it was.

 There he stood, flanked by his two closest friends. Akaashi even managed to look happy, and Kuroo’s smile was beaming. In the center of the gym, he waited for you. He didn’t rush to you as was his preference, rather, he let you walk to him. Something about that felt important. You reached for his outstretched hand, letting him pull you the last few steps. He could only be so patient.

“I know I mess up a lot. And I know I’m not mature, or sophisticated, and I don’t fit in with your friends… but I’ve only got eyes for you. I don’t think I’ll ever really grow up, and I get it if you get tired of me acting like… me.” You watched, ensnared in his desperate display as he fell to his knees. Akaashi nudged him with a knee, trying to whisper down to him.

“Dumbass, it’s one knee, not both.”

“Let him do his thing.” Kuroo hushed him, watching you both with a shine in his eyes.

“I’ve saved up a bunch of money, enough for you to pick out a new place just for the two of us.”

“Even though I did most of the budgeting and he cried every time I told him he couldn’t spend that money.”

“Akaashi!” Kuroo leaned over Bokuto to push Akaashi by the shoulder, successfully shutting him up for now.

“And I know your dad keeps saying that you should find someone better than me, but I must have caught him in a good mood, because…” You watched as Bokuto slipped a ring on your finger, bold and eye-catching, just like him. “He gave me his blessing!” The grin he beamed up at you was blinding, and you couldn’t resist wrapping him up in your arms.

 “...Dude, you forgot to ask her.”

[ziracona]

please bless me with all of your dbd headcanons even just a crumb would satisfy me,,,,, lmao. Fr tho ur hcs are godly pls give me all of them especially for og 4 and wraif

Thank you!! I’m glad you like my hot takes!

Let’s see, og4.

Jake grows facial hair pretty easy (that part is just canon). Usually he either lets it grow and ignores it till it gets long, or stays cleanshaven, but the in-between stage is physically painful for everyone else at the campfire bc you wake up and see rugged 2day scruffy woodsman stretch and he sees you staring and goes, “What?” Looking thoroughly unimpressed and Meg sheds a tear and Claudette pretends to not be looking and stares at her journal and Dwight gets heart palpitations it’s just bad for the whole group. When he shaves he’s an edgy dumbass and does it with a sharpened hunk of metal he made into a knife for himself and Dwight saw him shaving once and had to go sit down.

Jake has a soft spot for many of the survivors he’s known longer (honestly at this point, he’s pretty attached to the lot of them though), but especially the ones who work really hard at protecting other survivors. Double points if you’re younger than him. He would kill for Claudette, and take a bullet meant for Quentin, but would not convey this to them at all. Jake puts almost zero effort into making sure people knows he likes them. The people he has a soft spot for especially are also not always the ones he prefers to spend time with. While they’re survivors he spends less time with personally, Jake respects Feng Min for being the snarky little gremlin she is, and Tapp’s dedication to his job even here. Weirdly, while the people he likes often aren’t aware of affection, the ones he respects but isn’t as close to usually are aware of the respect. Jake also thinks he doesn’t like having friends and spending time not alone, but he does.

If asked point blank his thoughts on a survivor he likes, he’d probably just shrug or say, “They contribute to the team,” or “She works hard,” or “He’s fine,” because Jake just be like that. He had a hard time getting close to anyone initially because of how he grew up. Jake’s very guarded. He’s used to people manipulating and using each other, which makes keeping anything vulnerable close to his chest just necessary as he sees it. Boy doesn’t trust easy. Or open up. Ya need a can opener. Boy also does not like getting pushed around. Least favorite killers (aside from Nightmare) are probably Doctor and Ghostface, because he cannot stand being forced to do things or used. He’d rather take a chainsaw to the back than have someone lord power over him. He’s also got a looong memory, so if you fuck him over, he is not the kind to forget and forgive. He is the kind to resent and remember. Not that he never forgives people, but boy would have to really believe whatever happened was regretted and the person wasn’t like that anymore to let something that made him very angry go. He’s quiet angry though. Bide your time and get vengeance kinda angry. Would never let someone push him around. If a killer tried to fuck with him, he’d do everything in his power to kill them.

While Jake is tough and likes to hike just to be out and moving, and enjoys toughing it out, Meg enjoys being outside more as a fun thing than a wildnerness lifestyle thing. She has a lot of energy, and even in the realm, all that adhd can be a bitch. It would be easy to focus on the shitty stuff happening and drown in that, so she likes to keep moving, like she has since she was a kid and started running. Meg loves hard, and if she cares about you, she’ll make sure you know it. Not good at shutting up or realizing if she’s been going on for too long, girl has passion for everything.

Meg talks a big game, but does not have as much confidence as she pretends to have. She has abandonment issues, but they’re less, ‘my dad abandoned me’ and more ‘everyone but my mom, from him to grade school friends, hasn’t stuck around,’ so she does worry about that and coming on too strong, which she is aware she often does, but she can’t get herself to turn down the power settings on herself even when she tries. She’s never been good at making friends, so all of this in the realm is kinda new to her, since no one can leave. Meg would tell almost no one those things about herself. She cares hard though, and will try to distract other people from realm despair any way she can, because it’s what she needs and she assumes what they must need too. And to be fair, she ain’t wrong. Good at cultivating activities and drinks loving her friends juice.

Big goofball. BIG goofball. Also big gay. Well, bi af, but w a pretty strong preference for the ladies. She is simple of heart. Sees a girl, loses ability to think. Bonded with Nea over this problem. High int, low wisdom, big dumbass. Her weaknesses include girls’ eyes, voices, accents, freckles, scars, stomachs, legs, ass, titties, hair, hair dye, laughs, hands, eye contact, and cute accessories. Not great at expressing her feelings when she catches them, but tries hard. Actually pretty good at romancing once she gets into the groove. It’s just getting there she sucks at. Loyal as hell. Will go to bat for her friends and would rather die than betray them.

Meg has a real temper, especially when she feels like something being done to her or someone else is unjust/unfair, and will always try to fix those things even when it’s hopeless. Can and will weaponize her anger extremely effectively. Ridiculous memory for pop culture, shit memory for homework and things she was supposed to be doing. Memelord, but with some class.

Idk if this is because I identified with Claudette really strongly when I first started playing dbd or not, but I have always seen her as Asexual & Panromantic. Attracted to kindness. 

She gets overwhelmed fairly easily, but has been improving that by necessity since arriving in the realm, and can tap into the mom-friend override to fix problems for people who aren’t her. Has a hard time telling when people are teasing her/joking, but everyone knows this so they take it easier on her than each other.

Like Meg, had no friends before this, so it’s exciting and new, and a little scary, but mostly really good. She worries about other people a lot, and doesn’t always know how to help, but she tries. Very relieved Dwight volunteered to be team leader.

Enjoys recording things and studying. Would be fascinated by the Entity’s world if she wasn’t always being killed. Seems small and weak and easy to take down, but she has the strength of will to kill God herself if backed into a corner, especially when fighting for someone she loves. Sweet does not mean she will not fight back, and since being in the realm, and getting over her initial freezing up at the sight of horrifying murderers, she has worked extremely hard to be brave and take an active roll protecting people whenever she can. She is still terrified a lot, but has learned to push through that to help her friends and herself.

Loves animals, including ones a lot of people don’t like (bugs, snakes, rats, etc) and would and has definitely tried to snag a scorpion and a cockroach from trials to study before, and tried to befriend the realm rats now that they exist. Tries to get Jake to show her how to get birds to like you but does know how to ask him right.

Nervous about interpersonal relationships and unsure of herself. Really likes everyone but horrible at telling how other people feel. Feels like she always comes off wrong and can’t put words to things well even when she understands them super well. Does her best 24/7. Incredibly smart and talented. Knowledgeable about her passions. Is always thinking 4th dimensionally and has saved the team many a time by pulling off wild bullshit that makes sense kind of just barely but no one else would have thought of.

Dwight was a loser and kind of a douche growing up, kind of selfish and entitled and weak, but is no longer that person after a few years in the realm. He works hard to make good on his promises to look out for everyone, and cares about them very genuinely. Great at thinking on his feet and sounding like he knows more than he does, wonderful at regulating tasks to people efficiently, and not a bad strategist. 

Being the kind of person now who would not have liked the person he was a few years ago causes a little cognitive dissonance and self-doubt, but he’s trying. Genuinely enjoys hearing about people’s days and interests even when he’s completely lost. 

Not a fan of heights. If the fear of heights was not vastly overpowered by fear of sharp object, he would actively avoid the old ironworks in trials, but alas.

Used to play video games a lot. Thought he was good at them. Was not. Was definitely not.

Self-improvement king. Works hard and is a really decent dude. A very good sport. Used to be an asshole, so now that he’s nice he’s pretty damn forgiving if other people put in the work to improve too (my boy’s no hypocrite). Has mellowed out a lot and is pretty chill and nice but the damn fool will break his own heart by taking things people say the wrong way, or things they mean as a joke literally, if it’s something he thinks is true about himself, and will totally miss context and vocal inflection and just be like, “I know but I’m trying TuT.”

Big gay but in denial and confused

Just at this point really does want people to get to go home and be ok. Loves hearing stories and listening to his friends talk at the campfire because it makes him feel like things might be okay. Get the same result just by being near his friends, especially the other og3 who have been with him forever. If they’re all still there, things have to turn out okay someday. :’ ) Has never really told them that, because he’s supposed to be the leader, and thinks they’d feel less secure if they knew he depends on being able to sleep close to them at night to feel like he’ll be okay himself. Not in a they’d judge me way, but in a I really don’t want to let them down way. He wants them to think he’s got a handle on things even when he really doesn’t.

I was gonna do Philip too but I got this this morning and this post is already ridiculously long TuT, so here you go. Plus one mini Philip one.

Philip feels responsible for the young man he saw his boss kill the day the Entity got him. He knows that he killed scores of people unknowingly for Azarov, and those weigh, but he thinks sometimes late at night that if he could have just saved that one, it might have been enough to make him feel absolved someday for all the other deaths on his head. He remembers his face very well, and how terrified he was, and the moment of confusion and relief, and almost gratefulness when Philip let him go. He thinks over and over that if he’d just talked to him–assumed something was up, and gotten him to be quiet. Seen Azarov in time and stopped him. So many little things, and the young man would have lived. Even if the others were things he was completely blind to, he feels like that one is especially his fault, and that he could have stopped it. That one really haunts him.

[of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog]

How Do Dragons Flirt?

Commission for the beauteous @ikeracity​ !!! A Cherik fic including dragon talk! I hope you like it, friend! Commission info is here!

~

Charles was reading another book about dragons.

Erik checked and re-checked that there was no one around, then walked over and asked, “May I sit here?”

Charles looked up, blinking. The entire student lounge was empty, and he had claimed the saggiest, oldest, shittiest couch that everyone hated. But Erik needed to get close for this.

“Ah—sure,” Charles said finally, and moved his enormous backpack. Erik sat in the corner furthest away from Charles. There was close, and there was too close; sharing a couch was on the edge of too close. He nevertheless turned a little, and asked Charles bluntly, “What’s that book about?”

A slow flush of shame filled Charles’ face, and he looked down, fiddling with the edges of the heavy paper. There seemed to be quite a few full-color illustrations as well as fancy script. “It’s… um… it’s about dragons,” he mumbled.

Erik bit the inside of his cheek, cursing at himself for already fucking up. He tried to make it better by saying, “Like contemporary ones or mythological?”

The flush deepened, and Charles looked away. “Mythological,” he answered softly.

Erik bit harder, cursed more viciously, and asked, “Can you tell me about that book?”

Charles’ head whipped around, and he stared at Erik with naked shock. Erik’s face went pink this time. “I like dragons too,” he explained, “But I don’t know any good books on them.”

The slow, brilliant smile that spread across Charles’ face was so beautiful that Erik was almost breathless. It really brought home how very fake his normal smiles were.

“Well… what books are you looking for?” Charles temporized, slowly relaxing and turning towards Erik. Maybe it wasn’t even a conscious decision. “There’s quite a difference between books about pop culture and books about dry medieval mythos.”

“I already have a basic grounding of pop culture,” Erik said, thinking back on the past three days of reading absolutely everything he could get his hands on. “Read a lot of essays. But I don’t know much about ancient depictions and writings.”

“Well, you are in for a treat,” Charles replied with something close to unholy glee.

Charles didn’t just like dragons, and he wasn’t just well-read. He was obsessed. Apparently his son was autistic (how the hell did baby-faced Charles have a child?) and his special interest was mythological creatures; Charles had started out just reading to him, and buying him books and watching videos. But then Charles had latched on to dragons, so while his son David researched griffins, Charles collected more and more material on fire-breathing lizards. It wasn’t as bad as his obsession with genetics and biology, but as Charles rambled on and on excitedly, Erik began to realize why people didn’t like listening.

But they were wrong. Because he’d heard so often that Charles was “boring”, but no one had ever mentioned how beautiful he was when he was excited. His eyes were wide and bright, his smile was the same, and his entire face came alive in a way it never did in class debates. He gestured emphatically and his voice got stronger and he looked so relieved.

Not to say Erik wasn’t listening. He was impressed by Charles’ knowledge, and the challenger in him wanted to learn just as much and more. So he listened, and asked questions, and soaked up Charles’ words like a sponge. He even got out his phone and noted all of the books Charles referenced and where to find them, and which sources they used. Charles was only too happy to add to the list.

By the time lights-out rolled around, Charles was hoarse and Erik was in a daze from the immense wave of talking that had just been aimed at him. He didn’t regret it. He found, to his own amusement, that he had enjoyed listening. But, well, he was already in love with Charles. No harm in enjoying his happiness.

They went to the stairs, silently. As they reached the landing where they split ways, Erik asked suddenly, “Can I sit with you at lunch tomorrow? I can probably dig up the essays I read, and we can compare.”

How could anyone think Charles was less than gorgeous when he was happy? “I’d like that,” he said simply.

~

So it became their Thing. If Erik was angry and wanted to be distracted, he sought out Charles. If Charles was upset in any way and needed to calm down, he went to Erik. They laughed together (when they were alone) about how it was great that, when either or both of them wanted to be alone, they just had to find each other and talk about dragons, and other people would avoid them.

Erik was labeled a martyr and insane for putting up with Charles, but he brushed it off, and in fact snapped at several people who acted like he was “brave” for “trying to be his friend”. There was no trying involved. As soon as they had found common ground, they had become friends. Natural arrogance, similar tastes, and true respect had made a friendship that Erik craved.

And it was fun talking to Charles. Even when conversation veered and they ended up debating politics or queer rights or which pizza chain made the best food (Erik insisted it was Pizza Hut, Charles refused to let go of Dominoes), it always came back to dragons, naturally, easily. Dragons as metaphors. Dragon stories as direct replies to various events in history. Dragons and their place in the human psyche.

It was only natural, really, to spend an evening talking about all the various descriptions of dragon mating behaviors. Erik was of the opinion that basing a dragon’s mating rituals on mammals was an insult to lizards and bats; Charles laughed and said if humans stuck to the mating rituals of lizards and bats, no one would find dragons romantic or powerful. They eventually agreed that birds were a good compromise, since they both detested birds.

Then things started… happening.

Erik immediately linked them to Charles. Gifts of food left at his door. Pretty rocks slipped into his backpack. Beautiful feathers tucked between the pages of his latest book on dragons that he was borrowing from Charles.

And then there was the nesting. The first time Erik visited Charles’ house, they ended up curled in a mess of pillows, cushions, blankets, and sheets, doing something Erik had never expected himself to be comfortable with: cuddling.

Charles’ son, David, was visiting. He was nonverbal, but knew a lot of sign-language; and since Charles had been teaching Erik, he was able to convey to David that he was a friend and he liked mythological creatures too. David looked at him somberly with his big blue eyes, then nodded and sat on a cushion a foot away from Charles, who beamed at his son with so much love that Erik’s heart ached.

But cuddling in a nest, watching movies together, sharing popcorn… it made Erik nervous, but excited. Was Charles flirting? Was this how flirting worked?

He decided to try some himself.

He bought Charles CDs because the silly man wouldn’t upgrade to a digital library, because birds sang to potential mates, didn’t they? Erik also tentatively offered to watch Dirty Dancing with Charles, because birds dance but he couldn’t, and the delight on Charles’ face was worth the fact that Erik disliked most of the movie.

He was stumped on pretty gifts, though. He didn’t have a lot of income, and Charles could afford literally anything he wanted. So Erik bought a ton of jump rings, a spool of wire, those little pliers jewelry-makers used, and pretty beads, and started making things for Charles.

The first thing he gave Charles was one of those bead-lizards, except he made wings to match. Charles almost cried, and hugged Erik so tight, which was… a nice feeling, surprisingly. Then Erik fussed and fiddled and managed to make three differently-sized hamsa, which Charles immediately hung by his front door, on his backpack, and in his room. David demanded a hamsa of his own, so Erik made a child-sized one and gave it to him for his birthday. David was so excited that he ran in circles, flapping his arms, and then shook Erik’s hand heartily. Erik actually found himself smiling.

Charles kissed his cheek so briefly before he left that night. It made him dizzy and warm, a feeling that lasted all the way back to his dorm.

They never talked about it. Not unless continued, hesitant mentions of dragon mating rituals counted.

~

It was a year after Erik had first approached Charles about dragons when he met Raven.

“Erik, this is my sister, Raven,” Charles said, beaming. “Raven, this is my friend Erik.”

“Nice to meet you,” Raven said neutrally with a lukewarm smile.

Erik nodded. “Likewise,” he said stiffly.

Charles was used to Erik by now, and was apparently used to Raven, because he didn’t seem upset by this standoff. If anything, he brightened further, and told Raven, “He likes dragons too.”

“Yeah, you told me,” Raven replied, taking Charles’ hand and squeezing gently. Then she turned back to Erik, narrowed her eyes, and asked, “What’re your intentions towards my brother?”

“Raven!” Charles gasped, immediately turning red with embarrassment. Erik was also pink, to his surprise.

“He’s my friend,” Erik said firmly.

“Then why are you flirting with him?”

Erik’s face got even warmer. “I… was not aware that I was,” he muttered, eyes glancing around to make sure no one was near.

“Hmph.” Raven turned back to a befuddled and sad—no, no, why was he sad—Charles. “He’s into you, dumbass.”

Erik looked at the ground, unable to hide how very red he was. Charles knew him now. He would know what his expression meant.

“Oh, hush, Raven,” Charles snapped, actually sounding angry. “You don’t know that.”

“Whatever. Did you want to get drinks or no?”

So the three of them went to get drunk. Erik was nervous about that; he was an angry drunk. But if he kept to a low amount of alcohol, he should be fine.

Raven and Charles were so hard-headed it made Erik a little afraid. Raven did eventually fall asleep on Charles’ shoulder, but she never acted drunk other than that; and Charles chattered on with his usual enthusiasm, his speech not slurred in the slightest. Erik was feeling a little woozy after maybe two beers and three shots of tequila.

“Do you like me?” Charles asked suddenly.

“Huh?” Erik said.

“Do you like me?” Charles repeated, looking very sharp and sober. “Raven said you did.”

“Well...” Erik rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the table. But, knowing that they would both forget in the morning, he felt safe in blurting, “Well, yes. I just… didn’t want to bring it up.”

“Why not?”

“Because… it felt weird. I like being your friend too much.”

There was a silence. Then Charles reached over and put his hand over Erik’s. “I like you too,” he said softly.

~

It was definitely mating rituals.

And Erik didn’t mind at all. Nothing really changed, except they started kissing in private, and then they got bold and kissed while drunk and in front of Charles’ friends, and after that it was just natural to hold hands and sit side-by-side and kiss each other on the cheeks or forehead. It was so natural that Erik forgot their reputations, and was honestly surprised the first time someone invited Charles to a party and asked Erik separately if he’d like to come.

Charles asked David if it was okay that Charles and Erik wanted to be boyfriends. David thought about it, and said his first sentence in six years: “Yes, because he makes you happy.”

“Thank you so much, Davey,” Charles said, smiling broadly with tears in his eyes. Erik felt a weight lift off his shoulders, too; so David wouldn’t mind Erik visiting more often.

Or moving in. Which Erik did, eventually. Because it was only natural. Dragons move in with their mates too, after all.

[basicallywhiterice]

Eight words: Han Jisung

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Genre: Enemies to lovers, lowkey friends to lovers lmao, smidge of angst, fluff

Warnings: Cursing

Word count: 8.5 k

Summary: Sure, one could tell someone they loved them with eight letters. But eight words convey deeper, more complex meanings.

a/n: Happy birthday, Han aka J. One aka Jisung! I wish you a smooth, unhurried transition into adulthood, as do all Stays. And dear reader, I present to you this fic about my bias… enjoy!

•••

One word.

Three words and eight letters can sum up my feelings towards Han Jisung, although they’re much more intense than what eight letters can contain.

“I hate you.”

Case in point: After a long day of lectures and labs, I’m ready to throttle him.

“Jisung.”

“Y/n,” he mocks, making his voice higher to imitate mine.

No, he’s not my friend. Of course not. I wouldn’t tell a friend: “I’ve been looking for you. Thanks for responding to my text messages asking where you were. I really appreciate it.” No, Jisung’s really more like a stuck up, annoying dumbass who happens to do well on every test he takes.

“Oh, I had my phone turned off. But you missed me that much?”

I puff my cheeks up and sigh. “You wish. Do you wanna review for the Bio exam together?”

“Biology?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“The one I’m really good at?”

“Debatable, but whatever floats your boat.”

“And let me get this straight,” he says, trying—and failing—to suppress a smile. “You need my help to study for it? My help? The help of me, Han Jisung? J. One? The one for you?”

“I don’t need your fucking help-” I bite back a few colorful words when I see his barely-hidden smile expand into a smirk and he shakes his head, almost disapprovingly. “Sort of, yes.” I muster the fakest smile I can display without cringing, tilting my head for added sarcasm.

“No.”

“Why not?” I sigh, having expected this to happen.

“What’s the fun in that, darling?”

Heat creeps into my cheeks as I fume over his disgusting pet name. “Han Jisung, I’m gonna strangle you in your sleep-”

“While that sounds tempting, and I had no idea you were into that, you’re not giving me any other reasons to help you, darling.” He leans back, resting his head against his pretty soft interlaced fingers, fixing me with The Look™ that lets me know he’s messing with me and thoroughly enjoying every second of it.

“We’ve studied for every test together and I’m sick of asking if you want to study every single time? Is that a good enough fucking reason for you?”

He drops one of his hands down and rests his index finger on his chin. “That’s valid…” he exhales, after a long, drawn out pause.

I nearly deck him in the face. I roll my eyes instead. “You know what, I’m leaving. Tell me your answer tomorrow if you need that long to think.” I shove my binders and textbooks into my backpack, swing it up on my shoulders, and make a beeline for the door. It’s not fair to snap at him so unexpectedly like this, but with the first semester at college rushing to a close, I don’t have enough time to play these petty games.

“Hey, hey, hey, wait up. What’s wrong?” he runs after me and pulls me back by my elbow with his right hand.

I take a deep breath, trying to rationalize my anger that’s not because of him but directed at him (at least, not today). “Nothing, I’m just really not in the mood for this kind of exchange for another twenty minutes. I have to study for more than just the science exam. I’d like it if we could just skip this elaborate negotiating for just one day.”

“Oh.” He lets go of my arm. “Yeah. Sure. Studying for exams together. Same studying schedule, texting if we change any days?” When I nod in affirmation, he sticks his hands into his jacket pockets. “Sorry for stressing you out more. You can tell me when you’re having a bad day, you know.”

Oh. “I know. Sorry for snapping at you. I didn’t mean it.” He starts to say something, but I hold up a hand. “It’s somewhat tolerable to have someone to banter with every day.” I blurt out.

Jisung glances down, then raises his gaze to meet mine. His eyes squeeze into crescents. His plump lips (ew) stretch outwards to reveal his pearly whites. I’m sure that my expression mirrors his.

“Good to know my efforts are appreciated.”

“Don’t get a big head. Well, don’t get an even bigger one.”

“You mean a big brain.”

“No, you don’t have a brain.”

He feigns a hurt expression. “Wow, princess. I thought I was tolerable.”

“You ruined the mood!” I shake my head, laughing. “You’re only somewhat tolerable. Definitely not when you call me pet names.”

“Sugar, you wound me.”

“Han Jisung!” I smack his arm half-heartedly.

“You love it though, honey.” He rests his hand on the top of my backpack, gently guiding me out the library doors and towards the parking lot.

Hm.

(Yes.)

•••

Two words.

This was supposed to be a peaceful weekend hangout.

“Felix, put that knife down! Right now! Or no Fortnite for a week!”

Somehow, all our weekend hangouts end up with Chan and Woojin babysitting. That is, until they act like kids themselves.

“Don’t challenge him to a knife fight, Chan! This isn’t Australia, where you have to fend for yourself in the desert��Kim Woojin if you join them I’ll let Minho cook dinner for a week.”

Then the rest of us babysit them until we figure out a better alternative to plastic-knife fencing (Changbin and Chan end up winning after they team up). After finally agreeing on going to the park (like in the Boxer video you know), the boys take over the swings and unintentionally terrorize children (while complaining about freezing to death) while Ryujin and I rethink our life choices and miss Tzuyu, who’s in Taiwan visiting her family.

“Why are we friends with them, again?” she asks, picking at her nails and pretending not to laugh when Seungmin throws wood chips in Hyunjin’s face.

“Yeah, y/n, why are you friends with us?” Jisung butts in after Jeongin refuses all of his hugs. I shoot him a thumbs up, and he grins behind Jisung’s back.

“I’m not friends with you. I’m friends with everyone else here because they’re cool, unlike you, stupid.”

“Ah, you were never a good liar, sweetie.”

Ryujin stifles a laugh, and I shoot her a half-hearted glare. “Not right now, Jisung. I’m still stressing over exam grades.”

“All the teachers entered them this morning, you know.” Surprisingly, there were no pet names present in that sentence. Hallelujah.

“They did?” I check my phone, and sure enough, all the exam grades are there. “What! I was reloading this page all morning! What’d you get in Bio?”

“An A. You?”

“As expected. Same.”

“As expected,” he mimics.

“Is that why you didn’t drag me on the slides?” Ryujin asks. “Because you were worried about your grades, that always end up being an A?”

“No comment.”

“You should go and have fun now that you know your GPA is safe,” she suggests. “No point in coming here if you’re just going to sit here.”

“You were the one who refused to associate with these,” I jab a thumb at the boys, “losers.”

“Oops.”

“You guys should play tag with us or something,” Jisung offers. “See who’s a loser then.”

“Challenge accepted. I’ll go round up the others,” Ryujin agrees, pushing herself off the metal bench and jogging over to the swings.

“What about you, y/n?” asks Jisung.

“Hm. Maybe.” I pretend to think, already knowing my answer is going to be yes.

“Come on! Join us?”

“How could I say no? I can’t just sit back and watch you lose without joining and winning against you.”

“... I’m going to pretend the reason is because you’re such a great friend to us.”

“Only the rest of them. Not you.” I correct him.

“Thank you. ‘preciate it.”

“You’re welcome.”

•••

Three words.

The ice on the streets is frozen and so am I.

I had ducked into the quaint little cafe on campus to grab a hot drink and to regain feeling in my feet when I saw what’s causing me to stand here—frozen, like a statue.

I saw Jisung. In our cafe. The one I frequent at least twice a week with him (not voluntarily, of course. He follows me here, probably to annoy me more, and I let him so I can annoy him more.)

Under normal circumstances, I’d be disgusted, not paralyzed. But today is different.

He sits at a two-person table. Next to him, a girl leans over his shoulder, wearing the headphones connected to his computer, occasionally commenting on parts of what I assume is his latest song. Her backpack rests on one of her shoulders. When she turns her head, I can see her face clearly.

He’s with Tzuyu, one of the youngest rising stars in the arts at our university, a hardworking student, an all-around sweet person, and a good friend of ours.

Why, one might ask, did I freeze in place? Simple: I’m sick of Jisung trying to woo girls with the songs he composes.

Once I regain my senses, shuffle forward in line, and place my order, I glance over at their table again. Tzuyu takes off the headphones and starts talking while pointing to different places on his laptop. Jisung smiles sheepishly at the last thing she says. The little prick. It must be an act–after all, if he’s flirted with so many girls through his music, he should be used to the compliments.

Tzuyu walks away from him after glancing at her watch and waving goodbye. She notices me when she’s halfway to the cafe door and grins, waving at me before she shoots Jisung one last smile and leaves. I wave back.

Of course, this exchange means that Jisung notices me. He motions for me to wait, holding up one finger. He clicks around on his laptop, closes it, and slides it into his backpack, along with his headphones. He stands up right as my drink is finished and my name is called. I snag the drink and try to rush to the door as discreetly as possible. Unfortunately, I’m very conspicuous, and Jisung follows me, calling my name.

I’m outside when he catches up with me, frozen in place once again as I internally debate if I should stay and talk to him or leave him. He makes the decision for me when he steps beside me, tugging my elbow in the direction I’m facing to get me to walk so I don’t hold up foot traffic.

“I told you to wait for me in there, y/n. You usually do it, why’d you ignore me today?”

Play dumb, y/n. “Who’s y/n?” Not that dumb!

I clear my throat and try again. “You were in there?”

He raises his eyebrows. “I know you saw me.” When I don’t reply, he sighs. “Walk with me? It’s the last week before break and I won’t have the pleasure of personally annoying you every day.”

I tilt my head forward to tell him to start walking. I can only think of a (half-hearted) protest once we’ve walked a full block. “It’s going to snow soon.”

“You love the snow.”

I exhale through my mouth, forming a cloud of condensation with my breath in the crisp, chilly air. “Yeah, I do.”

A beat passes. Quietly, Jisung asks, “Are you mad?” Another beat. “At me?”

I think back to Tzuyu getting the opportunity to hear an unreleased track. “No, I’m not.” My heart pangs when I picture them leaning in so close together, even though my rational self tells me I shouldn’t be mad over something that small, especially if it concerns such a close friend and such a stupid asshole.

“I think you’re mad. You’re talking a lot less than normal.”

“Congratulations. You must think you’re so smart.”

“Thanks for finally noticing.”

“Look, what do you want?”

“I want to know why you’re mad.”

“Who said I was mad?”

He snorts in disbelief. “You literally just admitted to it.”

“When did I say that?” I stop walking.

He laughs, a dry, airy chuckle that morphs into a sigh. “I just want to know why you’re mad, and if I can help.”

I scoff. “Thanks for your concern, but I think I’ll be alright. Is there anything else-”

“No, you don’t seem like you’ll be fine! You almost never get angry!”

“Why are you so angry about me being angry? Not everything’s about you.”

I suppose it would be a great testament to anyone else’s character if they realized my insults were just my anger speaking and refused to insult me back. However, this is Jisung we’re talking about. He’s more likely to stop talking because he can’t think of a retort, not because he’s conscientious.

Sigh. Maybe he’s not that bad after all.

Just when I acknowledge the slim possibility that Jisung might not be a jerk all of the time, he reaches out and steals my phone.

“What-”

“I’m not giving this back until you tell me why.” He taps away at the lock screen, and unlocks it.

My lips part slightly and my eyebrows crease together. I’m in shock. “How-”

“I’ve seen you enter your password a lot, I just never thought about using it until today. Let’s see… should I read over the English story you refuse to send me because it’s not done yet?”

I break out of my stupor. “Stop it! There’s a reason I haven’t sent it yet. It’s horrible!” I reach out, left arm flailing uselessly, hand smacking his shoulder. He just steps back and turns away from me.

“Oops, too late.” Over his shoulder, I can see him click on the Google Docs app and open the most recently edited document. He scrolls the page down, reading as he goes, but he’s moving around so much that I can’t read the words on the screen at first. My heart nearly stops when I recognize the format of my poetry doc, a place where I word vomit all my artistic and lyrical poetry ideas.

“Jisung, stop! Right now!” I wonder how desperate I sound right now, although I try not to show it.

That’s my poetry. It’s raw, unfinished, and, quite frankly, really cringy. I’ve only trusted Ryujin, Tzuyu, and Hyunjin enough to read one poem, let alone all of them. And now Jisung is scrolling through the entire document.

My blood boils over, simultaneously turning to ice. I chuck my cup of hot chocolate into the trash can. My appetite’s been ruined. I wrestle my phone out of his grip using two hands, palms and fingers crashing against the screen, frantically checking to see if I accidentally modified my poems with my clumsy tapping. I silently sigh in relief when I’m certain nothing was edited. Then, I fix Jisung with a cold, blank stare.

“Those poems were good…” he trails off when I take a step towards him. “No, really.”

“Those were personal poems that I don’t want people to read unless I decide to share them when they’re finished. I don’t want someone who’s going to make fun of me to read it! Don’t you understand the concept of privacy?” I spit out through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry. That… kind of reminds me of my songs and how I only share them with people I trust a lot when they’re unfinished. I shouldn’t have gone through all of that.”

“It reminds you of your songs? Well, unlike you, I don’t use my creative work to flirt with others.”

He flinches, eyes wide and panicked. “How did you know about that?”

“About you flirting through songs? It’s obvious: you let them listen to your unfinished work, and then they compliment you and you pretend to be all humble and everything and-” I groan and run a hand through my hair. Be a nice person. Don’t insult him. Be a nice person. Don’t insult him. Be a nice-

“Are you mad that Tzuyu was helping me with a song earlier in the cafe? Is that why you’re mad?”

I gape at him. “The world doesn’t revolve around you and your enormous ego! Plus, don’t you remember what happened the last time you stole my phone?”

Jisung wasn’t always this annoying. When I first met him, I even thought he was cute. (I still do, but I always deny it, and any non-platonic feelings, if anyone accuses me of thinking that way.) But a few weeks after I met him, when we had become friends, he stole my phone and accidentally deleted a notes page where I kept several passwords (that I was too lazy to remember). He apologized, but the damage had already been done.

“I’ve never used my music to flirt with anyone. And for your information, I ran into Tzuyu. I didn’t invite her to flirt with her.”

Oh. “Ok, and?”

He drags a hand over his face. “Why were you mad at me when we left the cafe?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m ready to storm off and leave, but I realize that Jisung did have a point. Today is the last day before break, and even if he’s a conceited jerk, I don’t want to end things on a bad note until we see each other again.

I take a deep breath. “Let’s sit down and talk through this like civilized people. Is that ok?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do this entire time!”

I drag him over to a bench and plop down, leaving a respectable amount of distance between us. “You want to know why I’m mad? I’ve been asking to hear your unreleased tracks for who knows how long, and you won’t even let me read the lyrics. I have to wait until you and the rest of 3racha drop an album. And I understand that! You're allowed to not share your work! But you also let a ton of people listen to your songs and they just end up complimenting your talent, whereas I’ve offered to help you refine your songs. To me, that seems shallow, especially since most people you show them to are girls. And then you go through my poems without my permission. To be fair, I might be overreacting.”

“No, you’re not. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

I smile tiredly. “Sure, I’ll probably share them someday, but I need a heads up. I thought you would’ve understood how much they mean to me since you’re protective of your songs.” I drag a hand over my face. “Ok, rant’s over.”

And so I spend the next half an hour understanding Jisung’s point of view. I end up accepting his apology. As we part ways, he pulls me into a hug. I don’t resist, and bury my face into his shoulder. When we pull apart, he waves before walking away. I can’t help the goofy smile that spreads onto my face once his back is turned. Suddenly, a thought washes over me.

Idiot. I’ll miss you.

•••

Four words.

Winter break is refreshing.

That is, until I realize how unproductive I’m being. Then I panic, becoming both unproductive and unhappy.

It’s almost a relief when I get back to school, until I realize how much work I’m drowning in. Then I wish I was on break again.

Sigh. The paradoxes of life.

On the bright side, at least I get to see my squad again. (And (see) roast Jisung.)

On the third week back from school, Hyunjin drags Ryujin and me to one of 3racha’s monthly shows (they have quite the fanbase on campus.) We would’ve gone anyways, but Hyunjin is a nice addition.

The first thing he says when we arrive at the venue is, “Aren’t you so excited about seeing Jisung perform? Hmm?” while wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah, y/n, aren’t you going to gush about how cute he looks while performing?” Ryujin adds.

“No. And that was one time. Once.”

“No, it’s every time. You always talk about him.” Hyunjin may have a point.

“Is there something that we should know?” Ryujin asks slyly. “I am your roommate, so if you’re going to talk about him 24/7, you might as well just tell us you like him instead of being in denial.”

“No. I don’t like him. I never talk about him.” My words sound weak even to me. “Remember? He’s like my mortal enemy.”

Pause. The two of them stare at me skeptically, waiting for me to stop denying everything.

“Ok, fine. He looks so fricking attractive when he’s performing, and his eyes transform completely and it’s like looking at a sharper version of him, and he still manages to be absolutely adorable when he smiles and his nose and eyes scrunch up, and-” I envelope Ryujin in a hug, cringing in embarrassment. She tries not to laugh, but I can feel her shoulders shaking. Hyunjin fails to contain his amusement, laughing so loudly that 3racha, preparing backstage, can probably hear him.

“Not a single word to anyone,” I make them promise.

“I’m totally convinced that you don’t have a crush on him,” Hyunjin says once he’s stopped laughing (two minutes later.)

“You’re the one who’s all buddy-buddy with him when you tried to beat him up that one time in high school.”

“People change,” he shrugs. “But you’ve always seemed like you had a soft spot for him.”

“No, you’re wrong. He’s my sworn enemy. He deleted my passwords that one time and read my poems and that makes him my arch-nemesis.” I sigh. “Oh, who am I kidding?”

Luckily (or not), Jisung chooses this moment to saunter over, sparing me from all their teasing. “What’s up, my dudes? Are you ready to get wowed by us?”

“Wow is your best song yet. You’re performing that tonight, right?” I confirm.

“Yup. I’m sure you guys can get some meme-worthy material out of Changbin’s reactions.”

“Jisung, have I ever told you how attractive you look when you perform?” snickers Hyunjin, excessively batting his eyelashes and latching onto Jisung. I shoot him daggers with my eyes while trying to look not-exactly-murderous to Jisung. Ryujin stifles a laugh at my expense for the second time tonight.

“Thanks, buddy. I’m aware, but it’s nice to know that someone appreciates my hotness every once in a while.”

“Why are we here again?” I wonder out loud, giggling at the overly dramatic look of betrayal that Jisung puts on.

“My dear, it’s obviously for me! How could you forget?”

“Oh right, it was for my favorite 3racha member, Changbin!”

Jisung shrugs Hyunjin off, coming over and embracing me playfully. “No, not allowed.”

“C’mon, let’s go say hi to my man, Changbin!” I tell the ‘jins, tilting my head towards the stage.

“Noooo. Darling, that’s so mean.”

I give up on pushing Jisung off once it’s clear that he stubbornly refuses to leave. I ruffle his hair instead as “revenge.” (“Hey! That took me a solid five seconds to style! You’re fixing that.” “Yeah, yeah, whatever floats your boat.”) Ryujin, Hyunjin, and I agree that we should go greet Chan and Changbin. As we head backstage to say hi to 2racha, Jisung reluctantly stops hugging me when it gets too difficult to walk. He still keeps a hand loosely anchored on my right shoulder. I don’t complain, nor do I shrug him off. I guess it feels nice ok when he’s a normal, chill, person.

Ok, that was an under-exaggeration. I feel like I’m on cloud nine.

Maybe Ryujin is secretly a mind reader, or maybe I’m just really transparent, because she pokes my arm, not saying anything when I ask her “what,” while trying to hide the furious blush I know is present on my face. She just raises her eyebrows and grins. I widen my eyes back.

“So, uh y/n.” starts Jisung, breaking me out of my semi-staring contest with Ryujin. “There’s an open mic at our cafe next week—you know, the one we go to at least twice a week? Anyways, there’s an open mic next Friday and I was planning on going to either test out a new song I produced or a couple of poems I wrote and would you—I was wondering if you wanted to go too? I know you’re a little hesitant about sharing your poems, but from what I saw, you had some really good works and I’m sure other people would enjoy your poetry too. And of course you don’t have to go, I just thought it would be a fun experience if you were down.”

I’m floored. Han Jisung being genuinely nice and considerate? Unheard of. But when I start thinking about all my previous encounters with him, I realize that this is not the exception—it’s the rule.

Maybe I was so intent on labeling him as a rival that I’ve been halfheartedly denying the existence of his good traits.

“Thank you for appreciating my poems. That… honestly, that means so much to me. I’d love to go and perform. As long as I have time to prepare and I get to choose what to present… it’ll be new, but doable.” I wrap both arms around his waist and squish the left side of my face against his right shoulder. “I’m excited for Friday.”

“I’m glad you’re excited.”

“I’m glad you’re glad.”

Wait. What am I doing lowkey cuddling him in public? Oh well. I don’t hate it. In fact, I might go as far as to say… I really like it.

(When we get backstage, I fist-bump Changbin and do a weird quasi-dance off with Chan before hugging them both and wishing them good luck before promising to record the entirety of Wow. Jisung pouts and pouts and pouts some more until I fix his hair, then takes my hands and pulls me around in circles like the man-child he is.

Ryujin promises to tell their embarrassing stories to all their fans after she greets 2racha.

Hyunjin forgoes any formalities and starts complaining about Seungmin.

“Chan, control your child! He’s becoming more and more savage. The world can’t contain his saltiness.”

“Maybe that’s his way of showing love.”

His face goes :o. “RYUJIN, YOU’RE A GENIUS!”)

•••

Five words.

It’s Wednesday and I am: straight-up not having a good time (bro).

After a long day filled with tests and being even more sleep-deprived than usual due to said tests, I really just want to curl up into a ball and do absolutely nothing.

Unfortunately, I need to stay awake in order to finish a creative writing story (yes, another one.) Then, I need to study for two more tests for tomorrow and do a shit ton of homework. On top of that, with the open mic two days away, I’m furiously revising and editing what I’m presenting.

To be completely honest, I’ve been playing with ways to reference Jisung in my poems. I know: crazy, right? Stupid Jisung and his stupid mole on his left cheek on his stupid face that my gaze always drifts back to. Stupid Jisung and his genuinely expressive personality. Stupid Jisung and his amazingly accurate intuition and knowledge and pair of eyes that allow him to say things like:

“You’re staring at me quite a bit, sugar.”

“Oh, shut up. I’m just thinking of all the ways I… could get you to shut up.” I finish lamely.

“Really, now.” He leans towards me in his stupid library chair. “Do any of them involve making out in the library?”

Gahhhh. “Not funny didn’t laugh.” I go back to trying to be productive, but it’s hard when my brain is spewing out thoughts faster than (Jisung) Changbin and Chan can rap.

It sucks sometimes when Jisung makes all these suggestive jokes because he’ll never see me in a romantic light. I think that might be part of the reason why I try (and routinely fail) to act so cold to him: I was aware of all the emotions beneath the way I wanted to view and portray him. (My brain: No, this is not a crush. Crushes are shallow and go away after a week. These feelings aren’t going anywhere.)

I get through editing one paragraph of my story before Jisung speaks again. “Are you considering the offer?”

“No.” Maybe. Yes. “Don’t you have a lab report to write?”

“I’d gladly give up on that for you.”

“Jisung, stop, please. Not tonight, ok? On any other day I’d go along with your banter, but I have serious shit to get done with tonight.”

“Oh, ok. Do you want me to help with anything?”

“Nah, I’m fine. Thanks for offering.”

I give up on my story for the time being and slip an earbud into the ear facing away from Jisung. I pull out a thicc textbook and finish my Calculus homework. A page of notebook paper later, I’m done. I close the book, lean back in my seat, and rub my eyes.

“You look like you need a break,” he notes.

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, you deserve it. I’ll even play with your hair.” Darn it! Why why why does Jisung know all my weaknesses? It’s always a destresser for me when plays with my hair. Still, I’m a little hesitant to completely neglect my work for five minutes.

“I’ll give you a back rub too.” Hesitation? Productivity? Who? We don’t know them.

I fall into his outstretched arms and nuzzle my head in the crook of his neck. He laughs a little, leaning back in his chair. His soft hoodie creates a comfortable cushioning, and I sigh in contentment when he runs a hand through my hair, wrapping my arms around his waist. He shifts his legs so his knees are slightly angled toward me, and I do the same.

Then he shifts his right arm and closes the lid of my computer. And picks it up off the table. And sets it back down further away from me so I can’t reach it.

“Jisungggggg,” I whine, reluctantly lifting up my head. I extend my left arm, trying to grasp it, but he just pushes it away again. “I need that. Gotta get this bread. Flaunt that croissant. Ice that rice.” I’m not sure when I stopped talking and started babbling nonsense, but I can blame my lack of sleep for that.

‘What you need is a good night of rest.” He picks up the laptop and holds it close to him, turning away from me.

My senses kick back in. “No! I need to get all this stuff done first. Then I can sleep. Give,” my right hand grasps the edge of my computer. “It,” I give a strong yank. “Back!” We engage in a brief game of tug-of-war before I almost pull it out of his grasp. Then he snatches it back, firmly in his grip.

I huff and pull out my phone forcefully, opening the Google doc containing my poems and stories I’m planning on presenting at open mic for a few revisions and edits. “Must you always be this infuriating? Like, is there a point to stealing my computer when there’s stuff I need to do?”

A small, almost imperceptible pause. I almost don’t even notice it because it’s so brief. It goes straight to the back of my mind.

“You need to rest, y/n. I don’t think all of this stressing is good for you.”

“That doesn’t mean you can steal my computer.”

“Deal with it.”

I sigh. “I hate you right now,” I mumble tiredly. I go back to skimming over my prose and poetry, inserting and deleting a few words here and there.

I have no idea how long the silence stretches on until Jisung responds. “I know, you’ve told me.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz it’s the truth.” Is it grammatically acceptable to use the word ‘like’ in a narrative if you want to have a casual tone? Like, if you want to express a coherent train of thought without using too many words? Would that tone be acceptable? Jisung’s tone just now was off. He almost seemed hurt—oh my god what did I just say.

I come to the (belated) realization that I falsely told him I hated him—with what sounded like conviction, too!—just as he speaks.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and sometimes, you treat me like I’m you’re enemy or rival. I thought we were friends. I wrote you a song—multiple songs. I’ve tried dropping so many hints about how I see you as more than just a friend, but all this time, you saw me as less than one.”

My drowsiness has dissipated. “No, Jisung, I wasn’t thinking—have you never seen me as a rival?”

“It’s ok. You’re not obligated to feel anything for me. You don’t owe me anything. And of course not. I would never see you in such a negative way.” His entire demeanor changes. Jisung is normally very open about his emotions, whether he’s happy, stressed, excited, sad, hurt, enthusiastic, or serious. In this instance, though, his face falls into a more neutral expression that betrays next to nothing about what he’s thinking. But this expression is more than enough to tell me what he feels.

He’s hurt because of what I said. Deeply hurt.

“You could’ve just told me that you hated me,” he continues. “I don’t understand why you would make me feel like we were friends while secretly despising me.”

“Jisung, I don’t hate you.”

“Sure you don’t.” He laughs without humor. “Well, seeing as you clearly don’t want my company, I’ll leave now.” He shoves his laptop, textbook, and notebook into his backpack. He rises and starts walking off.

I rush after him.

“No, Jisung, I didn’t mean it. Please just listen to me.” I catch his left arm a few seconds after we exit the library. He stands there, stationary, neither moving towards me nor pulling away from me. The wind gently breezes past the two of us, tousling the ends of his hair. My heart threatens to get stuck in my throat. I swallow and force myself to go on. “I don’t hate you. You can hate me all you want for saying hurtful things to you, but I’ve never hated you and never will.”

“I could never hate you. And while you may not completely hate me, if you’ve always felt hostile toward me—ever since the start of our so-called ‘friendship’—I don’t really know what to think anymore.”

“No, that’s not what I think. At all. Please hear me out.”

“I think I should leave. Have fun studying without a constant annoying distraction.” He lets his arm slip out of my grip, taking a step forward. “Goodbye.”

He takes long strides away from the library, away from me. All I can think about is how wrong he is. About how wrong I am.

I hurt him, a person with one of the truest hearts and most genuine personalities I’ve ever met. Always being open and transparent with his thoughts, never failing to make me smile. He knows me so well, and I know so much about him, too. He’s been through the ups and the downs with me, and I’ve stayed by his side when he’s needed support, too. He even manages to harness raw, heavy emotions and transform it into beautiful songs such as ‘I see’ that he, Han Jisung, J. One, produces. And now he thinks I hate him.

“No,” I whisper to myself after he’s gone and no one is around to hear me. “It’s the opposite of that.”

I like him so much. Platonically, and romantically. But I’ve missed my chance to tell him, and I’ve broken our friendship that we’ve always had, even if I denied its existence.

Five words can crush someone.

•••

Six words.

Once I’m done with my self reflection about just how foolish and spiteful I acted, I call Ryujin, Hyunjin, and Tzuyu for help. We meet at the dorm Ryujin and I share.

Hyunjin silently shakes his head. Ryujin gives me a side-hug, rubbing circles into my right shoulder. Tzuyu is the first to speak after I describe the events that happened.

“He really likes you. He’s written at least five songs for you and ten songs about you. That day in the cafe, when I ran into him and saw you, he asked for my opinion on one of his songs for you. The reason why he’s never asked you two,” she glances at Hyunjin and Ryujin, “is because he thought you guys would spill the beans.” She sits down on my right side and offers me a hug. “You need to talk to him as soon as possible. He’s cares enough to write songs for you.”

“I know, but he won’t respond to any of my messages or calls.”

“Honestly,” Hyunjin starts, “I’m sorry if this sounds bad, but we were always convinced that you two were secretly dating and wouldn’t tell us.” He half-smiles awkwardly. “Don’t give up just yet.”

“I’m so stupid.”

“Don’t say that!” Ryujin comforts. “We all make mistakes. Don’t let this bother you and make you give up. I’d say that you’ve learned a lot from this.”

“Thanks, Ryu.” I groan, my face falling into my hands. “What the heck am I supposed to do?” I wrote you a song. I thought we were friends. I’ve dropped hints about how I see you as more than just a friend.

He cares enough to write songs for you.

I’ve been thinking of ways to reference Jisung in my poems.

“That’s it!” I exclaim. “Poetry! And maybe a short story, too.” When I see three confused faces, I elaborate. “He’s written songs about me, right? Well, writing is important to me, so what if I wrote about him in the stuff I’m reading at the open mic? And apologize and explain to him afterwards? All I need to do is make sure he goes to open mic, and you guys could help me convince him. At least, that’s the best idea I can think of right now.”

“Sure.” “We’ll help you.” “You got this, girl!”

Their encouragement lifts my mood, and I’m overly optimistic for a second. My phone buzzes, and I dare to hope that I might be able to mend my relationship with Jisung.

The message is from Jisung, and I foolishly hope for the best. Then I read what he sent.

You don’t have to pretend, y/n.

He doesn’t believe me. He doubts that I see him positively because of how hurtful I acted and the words I said to him. Honestly, I don’t even blame him. If I was in his position, I’d probably do the same.

I have screwed up. Big time.

I never meant to hurt or belittle him, even if I claimed he was my enemy. But somewhere along the way, I turned into one of the worst kinds of people and did.

I hope I can salvage this.

•••

Seven words.

Breathe in, breathe out. Calm down. Everything will turn out fine.

It’s showtime. After much persuasion, Tzuyu and Hyunjin convinced Jisung to perform at open mic (of course, they had to make him think I wouldn’t attend.) Jisung will perform first, then perform one more time after three people. I’m the person right before him.

I stand inside near the counter, far away from our regular table near the windows. He hasn’t seen me yet. I fiddle with my hands, trying to hide my face. I breathe a sigh of relief when he hops on stage to perform. He hasn’t seen me yet.

He greets the patrons of the cafe, cracking a few jokes before kicking things off with a revised version of ‘For you’. He gets halfway through it before he locks eyes with me.

I tentatively wave. He glances away.

After he finishes, he receives a warm round of applause. He grins, equally bashful and proud, and hops off the stage. He situates himself far away from me.

Two more people present. Two and a half minutes into the second person’s slam poetry performance, I work up the courage to shuffle over to him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’ve never hated you. I’ve never even disliked you. In fact, I feel the opposite way. I just never thought you’d see me as more than a friend, so I tried convincing myself that you weren’t an all-around amazing person. It didn’t work. It would never work.”

He stares at me, not speaking. I press on.

“You’re one of the most genuine people I know. I can always tell what you’re thinking, because you have nothing to hide. You’re incredibly dedicated. You’ve been a great friend to me, especially when I was rude to you and didn’t deserve it. You see the best in everyone and encourage them to showcase their strengths.” I take a fluttering breath. “I never thought that someone like you would even consider someone like me. I’m sorry for calling you annoying and saying that I hated you. You’re not annoying. I don’t think anyone who’s ever met you would hate you.” I lace my fingers together. “I am really, truly sorry for saying untrue, hurtful things to you.”

The poet onstage finishes. The people watching applaud. I’m next, but I’m frozen in place.

Jisung breaks the silence. “Good luck. We can talk later.”

I dare to smile, and walk onstage.

I’ve chosen to share a short story about the time I accidentally kicked my friend in the face when we took a dance class, saving my poems for another time. I’m really telling a story about Jisung. I take a deep breath and begin.

“This is the story of how I almost broke my friend’s nose.” This is the story of how I broke my friend’s heart.

I describe the contemporary dance class we were in and how close our friendship was. “She was one of my closest friends. I don’t know what I would have done without her.” He’s one of my closest friends. I don’t know what I would do without him.

I add details to build an image of that day, inserting humor and appealing to the audience’s senses, while making sure that my plot advances. “I wasn’t paying enough attention to my surroundings. When I kicked my leg up, my foot collided with her face.” I wasn’t being true to myself or him. When I spoke, my words attacked him.

“I felt immediate regret. I had hurt my friend on accident because I was careless.” I immediately felt horrible. I hurt him with my careless words and actions.

“For a few horrifying minutes, she couldn’t talk because of the pain. I thought our friendship was over and that she would never forgive me.” For a few terrifying days, he wouldn’t talk to me because of the pain I caused. I thought our friendship was over. I thought he would never forgive me. I still do.

“Yet in the end, she chose to forgive my mistake. Even though my actions didn’t reflect how deeply I cared about her, she knew me well enough to understand it was an accident. She knew how much she meant to me, and how I never intended to hurt her.” I hope he can find it in his heart to forgive me. I hope he knows me well enough to know that he means the world to me. I hope that all is not lost.

“It’s easy to harm someone on purpose. It’s even easier to do it on accident, because we’re not fully aware of our actions—we zone out—until we can see a concrete impact. Be self-aware. And if you want to do something fun with a friend, make sure it’s in a low-risk setting. Don’t end up like me! I might have taken the phrase “break a leg” literally if I was a little more careless. The point is, people need time to think. Forgiveness is not easy to receive. But when someone chooses to forgive because they want to, especially if that person plays a crucial role in your life, that can mean the world to someone. Thank you.”

Granted, that’s not the best narrative I could produce, but given my time limit of one-and-a-half day, I’m not too disappointed in myself.

Jisung and I pass each other when he heads toward the stage.

“This song is dedicated to someone special,” he says once he’s onstage. “I hope you guys like it!”

And it’s about me. Us. The time we stayed up until 2am studying and found this cafe because it was the only one open then. The time we wrote tons of poems, narratives, and short stories together (most of them were as a meme, barely longer than four sentences) because we bet the other person they weren’t as creative (it ended as a tie—we created the last poem together). The time he asked for help on the lyrics for a song and I ended up showing him a few of my poems willingly.

My eyes are glued to him, right up until he exits the stage and walks up to me. Then they flit towards the stage for a moment while I try to prepare myself for whatever he has to say. The world stops spinning as he opens his mouth.

“I forgive you.”

Blissfully, unexpectedly, the world starts spinning again. “You do?”

“You didn’t mean it, and while it hurt to hear, I know you don’t actually think that way. It’s not like I’m perfect, either. I’ll get annoyed and say things that aren’t true, too.” He reaches for my hand and laces our fingers together. “I know you, y/n. Like you said, you wouldn’t hurt someone on purpose.” He gives a gentle tug on my hand. “You want to get out of here?”

“I’d love to.” I lean up and press a brief kiss against his cheek. “Where to?”

“You know that new burger place we wanted to try out? I was thinking we could go there.” He pauses. “As a first date,” he adds, the slightest hesitance showing.

I grab his other hand and take a half step towards him. “That sounds like the perfect first date.” I blush. He blushes. He pecks my forehead, the tip of my nose, and both of my cheeks. I untangle our hands to reach up and pinch his cheeks, squishing them together. Mindful of the people in the cafe, we leave soon after, sparing them from watching our PDA. We decide on taking my car, since I drove by myself here and Hyunjin dropped him off and yeeted out of here. (Speaking of Hyunjin, he, Ryujin, and Tzuyu have been blowing up the group chat—The 3 Musketeers—asking how things went. I text them that things went well, and silence my phone.)

Before I start the car, he takes my right hand. “Don’t ever think you’re not good enough,” he states firmly. “You are good enough. 100%. Don’t doubt yourself.”

“Aw, thank you. I realize that a little more now. I was really out of it that day. I turned into a mean version of myself, but I’m working on being more aware of what I’m feeling.”

“Don’t worry about it, y/n. You’re only human. What matters the most is that you truly didn’t mean it and you’re sorry. I’m with you right now,” he starts drawing circles on the back of my hand with his thumb, “am I not?”

“You’re right. You are with me now.” I lean in to kiss his cheek, reluctantly pulling away after a few moments to start driving. “Now, Mr. Han Jisung… give me the best first date ever.”

I smile. He smiles. We’re blissfully happy.

•••

Eight words.

That night, the squad gathers at our dorm and invites Jisung in after our date to question, gush over, and tease us. I spend most of the time curled up in his arms, snuggling with him as Ryujin asks what his intentions are (“To show this wonderful lady how much I love her.” “You pass.”).

Hyunjin keeps insisting he was right all along (“I knew you would end up dating!” “Whatever cooks your bacon, buddy.” “You were right, ‘jin! You’re like a fortune-teller. Quick, tell me what I’ll get on my English story next week!” “Uh… 420.”).

Tzuyu grabs me by the shoulders and squeals about how much of a power couple we are (“You guys are so cute! You could write each other poems as gifts! Aaaaah, our y/n is growing up so fast!” “...thanks, mom.”).

While we talk, I occasionally press light kisses anywhere I can reach: his cheek, his neck, his hand, his forehead, and his lips. The reactions are either highkey shipping (Ryu and Tzu) or highkey faked disgust (Hyunjin lmao). (We don’t tell them that we made out in the car for a solid twenty minutes before coming inside.)

The topic shifts from our relationship to anything and everything. After passionately debating whether humans are inherently neutral (neither good nor evil) and if raccoons should be considered pests, it’s well past midnight, and Tzu-Hyun-Sung head home.

The next day, Saturday, we have a weekly hangout with the nine boys and us three girls. More teasing ensues (particularly from the Aussie line and Changbin), but the day is like any other until that night.

Jisung and I go on our second official date to our favorite ramen store, the one where we know the owner by name. We take a stroll outside by a river afterwards, admiring the scenery.

“Y/n, I really like you. I get so happy whenever I see you, or even think about you. You make me want to compose a million love songs and dedicate them all to you. So what I’m saying is… I’m asking you if you’ll be my girlfriend?”

“Yes! A million times yes. I would love to. I could write a million poems about you.” I lean up and kiss him, smiling as I do so. “I would love to be your girlfriend, sweetheart.”

“You finally called me a pet name, babe! Why are you so cute?” Another smooch. He presses his forehead against mine. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“You’re cute. And I’m the lucky one.” I suddenly step back and grab onto his shoulders. “The lucky J. One!”

He laughs, shaking his head, and we continue walking. “This is part of what made me fall for you.” He swoops down for another kiss, leaving me a blushing, stuttering mess.

Jisung really has a way with words. Of course, that’s a given, seeing as he’s a songwriter and poet. But combined with his actions and intentions, his strong work ethic and how much he cares about everyone, the transparency of his thoughts and emotions, he really is unique.

He has the power to make me speechless. But I’ll always have eight words to say.

You are amazing and loveable. Never forget that.

•••

Happy birthday, Han Jisung. You have the support of all us Stays.

[kweebtrash]

Hey, not necessarily a sex question. But as someone who loves reading fanfic and appreciates fanfic writers, I still can't bring myself to write it. How did you get into writing fanfic, and was it ever weird for you? Do you have any advice on how to feel less weird about it? Especially smut about real people? (To be fair I can't bring myself to write smut in general idk why)

I started writing naruto and yu yu hakusho fanfiction when i was ten and it was just a regular oc and the character i liked. It wasnt good at all but i thought it was the greatest. When i met my sister (non biological) in middle school we decided to come up with our own "anime story". We would write it in notebooks and pass it to each other during class and get in trouble for it. So i guess that was the first time ive written an "original" story. By the time i was 12 i knew what sex was (mostly) and i knew teenagers did it (my characters were teenagers) so i was like oh if they like each other then they should do it. But because i was 12 i was like THATS ICKY TO WRITE ABOUT (in detail) so i made them get in bed and then skipped ahead and wrote THE NEXT DAY 😂😂😂

Then when i got access to a laptop and internet thats when i round "real" fanfiction online and smut back when it was called "lemon/lime/citrus" whatever the fuck that means. I still remember my first one was about neji hyuga LMAO.

I started reading more fanfiction throughout my teenager years and kept writing for anime, wrote bandfiction, created a bunch of OCs to rp with my partner at the time and i think by the time i actually started having sex that i was like ok this isnt so weird to write about anymore. So when we would rp we would just text each other sex scenes and i guess it became normalized because we were doing it irl so writing about it was just like hey! We sorta know what were doing! Oh i also used to watch a lot of porn as a teen? Idk why. That stopped after like a year or so but i found out shit through that, like bdsm, squirting, how utterly gross blowjobs are, what a hitachi wand was, how much i hate spit, etc. So that actually helped me discover like my beginning kinks. Porn is still terrible tho.

I think the first time i wrote smut was with a wrestling fanfic? And i had been reading a bunch of fics that had smut and with my basic knowledge and slowly finding out what phrases i liked in order to describe things it flowed a little more naturally but it was still hard.

Then i think i didnt really write much until i wrote my pentagon story which i think is terrible but other people like it. I guess with my practicing, experience, and sex education it started becoming easier? You can tell in my pentagon story that i was still getting back into the swing of things bc my sex scenes are atrocious and ridiculous 😅

I never really liked reading series myself bc i didnt want just prose and build up. I wanted smut. I was like THATS WHAT I CAME HERE FOR. So i made it a point to write smut in every single chapter so that way people stayed interested. In doing so it also helped me practice and get better. Then i read A LOT of bad kpop fics and was like....why dont these people know that sex isnt like porn??

There is a lot of copying in kpop fics in the sense that a lot of them are written the same way and we get the usual; some u realistic giant dick, "ministrations, pussy, cunt", kitten every other word, thigh riding, everyone confusing abuse with bdsm, "daddy" popping up left and right without going in depth to what meaning that holds, random weird shit. And i realized WOW I REALLY HATE KPOP FANFICS lol. So when i started writing messy i was like OK FUCK THIS IM GONNA WRITE SEX LIKE HOW ITS SUPPOSED TO GO. Then i starting writing smut where the condom broke, they talked about birth control, having a mental breakdown during sex, sexual assault, accidentally wacking each other while moving around, giggling, talking, explaining what you want. This i think helped me a lot, especially with my mental trauma that was associated with sex. I wanted to make it fun and real while also possibly teaching my readers about sex and maybe influencing other fic writers to not just regurgitate what they read.

As far as advice, im not quite sure if i have any?? Maybe i do lol. Take it with a grain of salt maybe?

With writing i would suggest

Read fics you like and highlight key phrases or actions you think are sexually appealing

Practice writing shorter scenes, you can even do time stamps or drabbles, things like that-people love those on here

Look into things. Honestly i knew what a cock ring was but someone requested i USE it in a fic and i was like shit guess i gotta google how to use a cock ring and while awkwardly watching videos of guys putting these things on i learned about metal ones, cages, silicone, rubber, rings, how long you should keep it on for, etc. So RESEARCH! is key too

If youve never had sex before that also helps if you research. Porn can give you a little bit of knowledge in generic motions or toys to use but by no means is it great as far as realism and sometimes its just plain icky.

So porn can be a basis, research can be a middle layer, reading other fics and seeing what you like and dont like is on top, and writing ur own is like...idk frosting lol.

As far as being weird with real people; since i wrote bandfiction and wrestling fics i was used to writing about real people for a little under ten years or so. Also i have a really active mind at night and i have tons of sex dreams that fit into like a story based setting. Thats where all my ideas for prose, dialogue and smut come from. Not everyone ofc has a brain like that but writing down things here and there might work. Lets say you have a favorite idol moment-like some really slutty dance move during a performance, you could time stamp that for inspiration. Save a lot of gifs and pics of them looking *chefs kiss*, listen to some music (i like alina baraz, sabrina claudio, galant, alex tbh, and jooyong for softer, gentler scenes or if you wanna get freak nastie listen to some dumbass jae park, or pretty ricky, or any sex related song thats not pretty lmao. Like rude boy by rihanna or something with a hard beat).

I think its also good to try and picture yourself in a sexual situation. You dont have to look like you, you could make up however you want to look in the scenario, its fantasy after all. Also think "would i like this?" Like i wont write about some idol spitting in my mouth or slapping me or peeing on me or something because thats not stuff that im into and i would be forcing myself to appease someone else and the writing woukd end up sucking big time. This also doesnt help the lack of good fics bc people are just following the requests they get even if they dont like it. I would write about what i think id feel in the moment. Id probably be nervous or if im pretending i could be a cool badass, i would think about things that i find attractive like his (imma use his bc i do write mostly about boy idols) face in the shadows of the light, how nice or soft his lips look, they way hes conveying emotions and looking at me if we were in love or if we were angry, the hold he has on me, why would it be going slow? Is it sad makeup sex? Is it a first time together? Is it just comforting after a bad day? Why would they be rough? Are they angry? Had a fight? Had a slow burn relationship and its culminated into a big explosion? Did they hate each other but hide their true feelings?

So i would suggest not just thinking about sex but thinking about the moment and all the things that lead up to, happen during, and the aftermath of it.

And of course if you don't understand anything or need more info about sex you can always ask me!

I hope this help and sorry its long😅😅😅😅

[eisforeidolon]

Episode: Don’t Go Into the Woods

Can all supernatural things potentially make the lights flicker?  I know demons and ghosts do, but has this been a thing for more straight up physical monster-monsters before?  I honestly can't remember.

I hate to be complaining about the Winchesters actually working a case just by themselves?  Especially with as rare of a thing as that’s become?  But let's be honest, I wouldn’t trust Jack with a mission as perilous as shopping.  He might kill somebody or destroy the world. Dabb & Co. have pointedly made him incapable of learning or understanding anything, so he's less a realistic character and more a dangerously idiotic plot bomb perpetually set to go off at random intervals. 

Who the Winchesters are now going to leave entirely unsupervised while Cas also just happens to be elsewhere.  Well, isn't that suspiciously convenient?  

Right now when he's just got his canon-breaking powers back and may not have a soul?  NOW is the time to leave him alone?  

O-kay, crippling brain damage for everybody is again necessary for this episode's events to happen, I see.

The only thing more frustrating than Jack being a perpetual shifting blob of whatever the plot calls for?  Is further manifestation of Dabb's desperation to write for a teen audience via the dumbass teenybopper trio returning.  Knew it was coming, still did not brace me for hating having to sit through it this much.  

I'm a little puzzled about they guy one being able to watch Ghostfacer videos.  I kind of doubt any teenager would notice the videos if they weren't being currently produced, and the Ghostfacers broke up last we saw them.  Did they somehow get back together after that episode with the lulzy anvilicious supposed parallels?  If they didn't and this kid is just trawling the Internet for videos that are at least five years old at this point, wouldn't whichever Ghostfacer it was who had gone off to run a business or whatever have had this shit scrubbed off the internet to avoid being made fun of by his colleagues?  Seriously, I am way way more interested in this probable continuity fail potential mystery than in anything about the teens themselves.

I don't have a lot to say about the case Sam and Dean were working. Again, it was fine.  New monster, okay.  I mean, it does seem like maybe a questionable choice to go for something that's similar to a monster the show has already highlighted (wendigo)?  But really, a lot of folklore monsters are variations across slightly different legends, so it's probably stranger we haven't had more similar monsters over the years.  It did at least look quite different and I thought it was cool how it melted. 

Local townie sheriff in denial and really obtusely insistent about coyotes snatching people out of bathrooms? Eh, I can go with that, I guess.  Though, what, was he planning on spending the next who knows how long of his life futilely trying to keep people out of the local woods for reasons he was going to just refuse to specify to anyone?  And he even kept going on about coyotes while his son was so blatantly campaigning to win the Most Likely to Wander Into the Woods for Revenge Award?  Kind of dumb, but I don't think it was too far over the threshold of unbelievably dumb. Yeah, it was all more than a little on the nose obvious about the sheriff knowing something such that the Winchesters were going to ultimately need his help.  Still, there was at least some Winchesters working together and Dean got a cool moment disarming the sheriff in the woods.  Though I'm not any less sick of yet again the rando of the week killing the monster while the Winchesters get knocked about, I'm kind of resigned to it at this point.  Dabb clearly finds believably competent characters actually getting to be competent unspeakably boring. 

So yeah, that part of the episode was mostly just there for me.  I was inordinately bugged by how during one of those conversations between sheriff guy and his son the show chose to toss in an egregious flashback to the dead girlfriend.  Like, do they think we as the audience have so little attention span we can't remember the kid is upset his girlfriend just died a few minutes ago in this same episode?  Or do they trust their actors so little to convey emotion they felt it was necessary to go DEAD GIRL IN YOUR FACE AGAIN, BOOM! at the audience?  There was that and the sheriff lecturing Sam & Dean about how they should just tell people monsters or real or put it on youtube – because that doesn't sound crazy and people can't make fake videos?  I feel like that was less a genuine moment and more like the something the writers stuck in because it's one of the complaints that's been circling the fandom for years.  Maybe I'm just cynical or the scene didn't come off too well, but I was less sympathizing with something that's actually a pretty reasonable response for someone blindsided by monsters being real and more rolling my eyes at his whining.  

Here's a poll, which is more stupid?  The cringe-y cluelessness of shoehorning in a dead horse of a fanfic cliché like, “We have movie nights on Tuesdays!”  Or that the writers continue to think annoying teenybopper canon fodder calling Dean old is cool/funny.  I can't decide!

Also, what are the writers wanting us to think about whether or not Jack has a soul?  Because I am having some trouble here believing that he doesn't have any soul left when this episode turns into him angsting about accidentally almost killing Whatsherface #2 and getting rejected by the teen trio even after “fixing” his “mistake”. I mean, if the writers are intending us to know but not for Cas and the Winchesters to, that's fine, but if this is meant to be a mystery I feel like it's a fail in terms of how they're writing potential soullessness because while I don't care all that much, I don't feel any doubt that he does.  Even if I am annoyed at the groundhog day feeling of this incident after we already sang this song over the security guard incident. 

I'm also not terribly impressed about the Winchesters arguing in the car over Dean's lying to Jack about needing someone to stay in the bunker.  If Sam really felt that strongly about it, why did he just agree?  Even if it was some bullshit don’t argue in front of the “kid” thing, he could have tacked on an addendum about being worried about Jack’s powers without contradicting what Dean said.  Oh, right, for the dramaz.  In the same way that the show careens wildly back and forth between treating Jack as a competent adult and a toddler with some kind of memory retention disorder, the way the Winchesters handle him makes just as much sense.  Speaking of lying, is it really that much better to tell a white lie about being worried about Jack being “comfortable” with his powers instead of finding a polite but honest way to say they suspect he'll accidentally kill people because he has no brains consistent control and an issue with overconfidence? 

I think there were some Dean fans that thought the thrust of that end conversation was to blame Jack almost killing some fools on Dean - but whether or not there were any intentional shades of that, it's too stupid for words.  Jack being badly written is Jack's problem, not any other character's prevarications.  If Jack didn’t learn back with the security guard, the idea any talkity-talking over reckless use of his powers at the beginning of this episode would have prevented what happened is ludicrous.  That’s only confirmed by spoilers I know about the rest of this season making it clear that even accidentally almost killing somebody outright here doesn’t teach him anything.  Because again, he’s written as largely incapable of learning.  Which, I guess there’s a weird pacifier-toting squad of infantilization-loving fans who are into that shit, but for my part?  Ew, no thanks.  I prefer characters with more personality than “helpless ball of woobified stupidity”.  I liked Jack well enough to begin with, but the more central they make him to the story, the more obviously deficient he is as a consistent and three dimensional character.