#the only men valid in bleaching their hair

[kiwisluv]

My favorite genre: blonde footballers

[bloodmoonmuses]

come back to me | mark lee

summary: your boyfriend, mark, drunkenly recounts the day the two of you met. (mostly to prove to haechan and johnny that love does, in fact, exist. even in the most unlikely of places.)

genre: mark lee x reader, established relationship kinda... but, like, also a meet cute? young love and all that jazz lol

It’s cold outside, the beginnings of winter trickling in with bitter fervor, yet you’re warm. Or rather, being warmed by the illusion of heat that courses through your veins: liquid courage. Now on your second bottle of soju, your form feels pliant, watery even, as you sway in the wind of your friends’ joy. 

In a booth (the leather of which is crackling at the seams) that forms a sort of semi circle, sits you, Mark, Johnny and Haechan. The wooden table before you is littered in plastic shot “glasses” and fried chicken wings that have been picked clean, and the bar is quite lively despite it nearing one in the morning. You lie your head against Mark’s shoulder, lost in the feeling of his muscles tensing and relaxing repeatedly beneath it.

“You good?” Mark whispers to you, shimming slightly as if to jostle a response out of you.

The words that escape your mouth feel fuzzy on your tongue, staticky around the edges. “Never been better.”

For some reason, the night has taken a nostalgic turn, fueled by the alcohol in everyone’s system. Haechan and Johnny have been arguing about their love lives for the better part of an hour. It never fails to amuse you how much they like bickering simply for the sake of it. You tuned out about ten minutes ago when Haechan brought up Johnny’s commitment issues only to be met with a rebuttal about him using humor as a coping mechanism. Both comments clearly strike a nerve in the men respectively, deciding to psychoanalyze their exes in chronological order in an attempt to disprove the validity of one another's assertions. 

“I don’t like that we can’t make fun of Mark right now,” Johnny confesses when he’s finished talking about an ex who turned out to be a closeted sasaeng, turning his attention to you and Mark.

Haechan scrunches his nose, gazing upon you as well. “Look at you two… All cozied up- it’s disgusting.”

“Hey man,” Mark starts, “don’t blame me for the lack of love in your life.” You punctuate his declaration with a kiss on the cheek, giddy and lovey-dovey in your drunken state. “See?” 

Johnny pretends to gag.

“How’d you meet anyway?” Haechan asks, “-so I can avoid any scenario involving… that.”

“Mark hasn’t told you the story in, like, excruciating detail?” you scoff. “He’s told everyone.”

Haechan shakes his head. 

“Oh God, don’t get him started,” Johnny groans. Mark sits upright, effectively knocking your head off of his shoulder, ecstatic with the chance to relay the way you met each other in its sappy glory.

“Spring,” Mark starts. “I was seventeen, so I had just debuted a year before, and-”

The cherry blossoms. They were stunning, you remember. Glistening and quivering under the weight of all the raindrops that had accumulated on them. The sheen of puddles scattered on the roads and sidewalks... You took the bus to work, a little cafe job you worked while finishing up your requirements at the international school you attended, and during that time of year, those bus rides were some of the most peaceful times in your day to day life. 

You think back to your youth, bright eyes aged only seventeen years, and how the world then seemed filled to brim with possibility. One day in particular, a chilly one towards the end of spring, you remember watching Mark enter the bus, his boyishness evident in his untied shoelaces and clunkily carried guitar case. On his back was a spiderman backpack, you remember vividly, and his hair is frizzy from how light he’s bleached it. He comes off a bit frazzled as you watch him stumble into a seat, precariously balancing a flimsy pair of headphones on his head, and settle in it with his knees bent. 

Once he’s gathered his bearings, he takes off his backpack and retrieves a notebook and pen, placing it on his knees, and begins to write frantically- like if he doesn't put pen to paper in this exact nanosecond, the idea will leave and never return. In a world of sloth and languidness, you’re fascinated by his urgency. You take off your own headphones to hear how he sounds in the context of silence, it is seven in the morning after all, and it only draws you in further. The scratching of the pen against the paper, orchestrated by the humming that just barely escapes his lips lulling you into a state of hypnosis.

Periodically, he furrows his brows, tries out a different melody, then writes some more- over and over again, until the pattern becomes more fluid. More succinct. Like the beginnings of a fully fledged song. He’s smiling now, and you find yourself unknowingly mirroring his joy, the fuzziness of it spreading up your neck like a campfire consuming its kindling. You’re enraptured. 

You want to live inside his head. What a superpower to have; to breathe life into written language. And then suddenly, he’s stuffing his notebook into his backpack as quickly as he had taken it out. His stop must be coming up soon, you had thought to yourself. 

After putting his feet back on the ground, he gingerly places his palms against the bus window- as if to test its temperature. When deemed cool enough, he exhales against the glass, quickly etching a heart onto its foggy surface with a squeak. His fingers are calloused, that much you can tell even from across the bus, and he’s tired- if the bags under his eyes are any indication. Then, the bus crawls to a stop, and he stands. Again, you’re mirroring him instantly, body moving before your mind can catch up. It’s not your stop, yours is another three down, but you exit nonetheless, too enthralled by the boy in front of you to let him out of your sight.

You walk about a block, maintaining about a ten foot distance between the two of you, and watch him hobble down the sidewalk with his huge guitar case. He grunts occasionally, adjusting and readjusting his baggage when the weight becomes too much, humming all the while. Until, of course, he turns around, tearing the headphones off of his head, and asks, “Are you following me?!” in a frustrated huff. 

You stop in your tracks. Oh wait, you had thought, you are sorta following him. Well, the cafe is in this direction technically but-

“You’re not one of those people with a fansite, are you? Look, dude, I know we debuted last year, but I want a normal life just like-”

“I’m not a fan. I mean, not yet, I guess. Well- no. I was just… I’m not following you. Mostly.” you stammer. 

Mark scratches his head. “Then, what are you doing…?”

“You were writing a song on the bus,” you look at the ground, staring at your shoes in search of some solace, reprieve from the then stranger’s prying eyes. How did you think this would turn out any other way? “I thought maybe, you could… sing it. Like, out loud.”

Mark sighs. “Look, dude, I have practice and-”

“Right. I’m sorry for being weird, you just looked… Nevermind. Have a nice day- sorry to bother you.” You turn on your heels, in the complete opposite of the cafe you’re supposed to be going to, and make a break for it. As you trek up the hill, you shatter your reflection over and over again, the splashing of puddles beneath your feet the only sound tethering you to reality. 

“It’s not finished-” Mark starts, voice cutting through the rustling leaves and bustling city with piercing clarity.  You’re frozen, still facing away from the hypnotist behind you. “-but I could show you the idea. Because that’s what it is right now. Just an idea.”

You turn to face him. “Um. Sure. If that’s okay.”

Haechan interjects Mark’s storytelling, words warbling from his completion of a third bottle of soju for the night. “No way you actually sat down and played the song for-”

“Shh!” Johnny says, “This is the best part.”

“See, I knew you secretly loved this mushy-gushy stuff,” you say. 

Mark giggles. “So, like I was saying-”

You sit on a bench freckled cherry blossom petals and just-dried droplets of dew, knee bouncing nervously when Mark plops down beside you. Mark sets his guitar case down, flat in front of him, and opens it. Retrieving his notebook from his backpack once again, he places it on your lap, surprisingly enough. Wordlessly, he puts his guitar in his lap, throwing the strap over his neck and shoulders, and cranes his neck to re-familiarize himself with his feverishly scrawled ideas. Just before he strums the first note, he says, “Just an idea. Keep that in mind.”

Then he sings. A mix and hesitant laments of love lost, then found, yearning for the past, but hopeful for the future. But other words are not words at all. They’re more, like, messily sung runs. Like he’s sketching lightly, so he can erase later. He’s got a hook. He sings it three times, and the way his Adam's apple bobbles is now permanently etched in your mind. When he’s done, he opens his eyes slowly, assessing the damage done. He almost looks surprised that you’re still sitting there.

You whisper, voice whisked away in the gentle breeze, “I never asked your name.”

“Mark. Just Mark.”

“Nice to meet you, ‘Just Mark’.”

“What do you think? How do you feel?” Two entirely different questions, both of which hit your ear in a way that makes your stomach leap- or maybe it’s the gravelly timbre of his voice and unsure eyes.

“Good,” Mark’s eyes spur you on further, silently asking you to elaborate, “The song sounds good and I feel good.”

“Is that the only adjective you know? ‘Good’?”

“I know a lot of adjectives. I’m just… nervous. So, yeah.”

Mark grabs his notebook and returns it to his backpack, packing up his guitar as well. As he stands to leave, he turns and says, “Your name.”

“What?”

“You never told me your name.”

“_______,” you reply meekly.

“And your hand,” he urges, “give it to me.” You extend your arm and Mark delicately grasps your wrist. Then, Mark nervously scrawls his number on your palm, pen digging into your skin slightly. 

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. 

“If you have any thoughts beyond it being ‘good’, gimme a call.” And just like that, he’s gone, running down the hill to make it to practice on time.

As Mark ends his retelling of events with a wistful hum, Haechan chortles. “Yeah. You two disgust me.”

[kleftiko]

i have a very important question to ask🙋‍♀️.

we all know shouta aizawa has some scruff on his face, would this said scruff be slightly bleached? Due to some activities? Or no?

And if so could we get a reaction from Hizashi and Nemuri seeing their close friend and co-worker with a red-tinted beard?

its alright if not! Just curious is all and thank you for all your works!🫶

cw: mature, mdni!, pussy eating content

an important and thought provoking question indeed, thank you for sharing <3

aizawa definitely eats pussy. he’s a real man and real men eat pussy. period.

but because he only ever has scruff and not a full beard i feel like it would be hard to bleach cause there’s not much there. but!!!! maybe that’s why aizawa doesn’t grow a full beard. he’s a lazy mf (love to see it) so he’s not on top of shaving everyday, and he’s got black black hair so if his beard just started turning ginger over time he’d be bombarded with questions non stop.

i see the conversation going a little like this though:

“that can’t be right.” hizashi shakes his head. he takes a sip of his coffee and places his legs on the table. “s’never happened to me.”

“i bet you don’t eat pussy.” nemuri quips and hizashi shoots her a stink eye. “besides, you’re blond, you wouldn’t see it anyway.”

“and you don’t have a beard.” he responds. “how am i supposed to take your word for it?”

that’s a valid point that makes nemuri think. to be honest, she doesn’t have to prove she’s right, but her pride is at stake so she sits down across from the man as aizawa enters the break room. both heroes cast him a look, wondering silently if he would know anything.

they decide that the thought is absurd. according to them, aizawa has plain, missionary sex like twice a week. the thought of him between a woman’s legs makes both of them giggle, which catches his attention.

“what?” he grunts, pouring himself a mug.

“just imagining you eating pussy.” hizashi says and shota turns around to leave, mug of coffee forgotten because he does not care to hear what the hell they were talking about.

“aizawa, wait.” nemuri stops him. “you have a girlfriend.”

“i don’t like where this is going.” he admits, but goes back for his abandoned coffee. “but yes.”

“how often do you have sex?” she continues.

“no.”

“okay, what about just oral? you do that?”

“i’m not answering these questions.” he states. your sex life was not something he wanted to talk about right now.

“why don’t you just grow a beard?” hizashi tries. and when he doesn’t get an immediate shut down, he continues. “you barely shave anyway, why don’t you just grow it out like your hair?”

aizawa takes a sip of his coffee.

“i don’t look good as a ginger.” he says and leaves.

and hizashi and nemuri are flabbergasted.

[girldigital]

be easy please

With everyday that passes, I find myself falling more and more in love with the fantasy.

Of course I liked him. Even if there were some yellow (orange even) flags (okay red too), I am being a hypocrite and looking away. “Nothing I can’t fix”, I say confidently - and the worst part is I believe it. Pretty hard to be sure after one date, but I imagine it wouldn’t take too much given how similar we are already.

Anyway, negatives aside (which shall remain vague for now (shame)), he is technically a match. Not what I’m looking for, but clearly what I seem to be seeking hasn’t been working, so maybe it’s for the best.

After our date, I remember feeling good inside, but also very content with the friendly nature of it. It’s rare for me to feel sexual attraction towards anybody, but I typically know fairly early if I can see myself either passively or actively enjoying sex with a man. Then again, I think I’ve only felt keen to kiss during a first date twice, one of which just so happens to have taken place a week before meeting Aiden.

I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not. Part of me thinks it is, because I have something very fresh to compare my feelings to, but on the other, I wonder if I would’ve been more sweped off my feet had it not happened. Frankly though, I don’t think so.

You see, Aiden and I too alike - to a point where it creates noticeable cracks in the fantasy. Suddenly, all I see are two dorks pretending not to be. Actually, he wasn’t even pretending, which in a way was worse as it forced me to renounce my usual act. While that might sound like a good thing, with that also comes any sort of sexual tension vanishing. Do I not believe I deserve to be loved for who I am? Maybe. Probably, in fact. It’s just hard to feel attracted to someone who reminds you of who you’re hiding.

Anyway, those are all things I felt during/right after. Now that it’s been a week of almost no coms, I find myself romanticizing him again, as if everything I felt in the moment during will magically fade away and leave room for the perfect narrative to take place.

Things that freaked me out in the flesh suddenly seem endearing. I catch myself imagining things I never have with others like marriage and fatherhood. Ew right...

While that’s slightly comforting (I have a heart!), I’m also painfully aware of the fact that I’m fetishizing the idea more so than I actually want him. I imagine myself telling my mom about the older, handsome Spanish architect I’m dating and her smiling in glee at the fact that she’s succeeded at veering me away from lesbianism. Wouldn't it be all so perfect?

Also, I was talking to Reboot and I realized a big part as to why I want to date a man, besides the warmth and validation, is that I will finally be able to d*ke-out in peace. Yes, I’m aware of the contradiction...

If I can explain myself though, my mom has always said in regards to me wanting to get tattoos : “When you marry, you can do whatever you want.” Even though that’s an obvious ridiculous statement, I haven’t been able to change her opinion through out the years. If anything, it’s now gotten worse as she requires her death before I can do anything - how dramatic. I’ve pushed the envelope in every way I could that doesn’t isn't permanent (haircuts, hair colors, bleached brows, piercings), but even still, every single one of these frustrate her to irrational levels. I think a big reason is that she sees them as ways I make myself more undesirable to men.

One of the things she said when we were fighting about my eyebrow piercing was: “What man would want a girl with that?”. I told her that I wouldn't want a man who would judge me for things this futile, which she agreed with but unfortunately still, I think my brain has successfully been rewired to associate freedom with male companionship. If only I were to be in a relationship with a man worthy of her praise, then I would finally be free to do as I please, without the weight of her disappointment and disapproval. That way, I can both prove to her that I can be lovable with the appearance she deems as unworthy, and most importantly, that, again, I am not the lesbo daughter of her nightmares yay! If I have a boyfriend, who cares if I’m a tatted up, short-haired, androgynous presenting gal right?

My life has been poisoned by conditions and I keep finding myself binding myself to them for no other reason than…I don’t know actually.

Anyway, I’m sleepy.

Before last night in BCN…

[menalez]

Hello Mena! I was hoping if you can maybe help me with confusion about my ethnicity. I am from post-ussr country and so interact in english spaces less and not sure about few things. I am mixed ethnicity, various slavic and central asian ethnicity. But I am not half and half, rather from what I learned about my family tree I am a bit more then 1/3 central asian. But, as you can imagine, with woc women marrying into men of dominant culture, I was able to find only very little of my asian female ancestors. I mostly seen myself as white, but the genes of my asian female ancestors show on my face. I did not know about any of these when I was teen, I was just sure I am 'ugly'. I spend great deal of time trying to make myself 'pretty', which was kinda white washing myself. If I bleach my hair, shave my eyebrows, avoid sun like plague and paint my face I can be quite white passing, just with weird nose and small and dark eyes and wide face. I also struggled with people being very prejudiced towards me through my whole life, like they start right away acting as if I'm stupid and a bit slow. I have been wondering for my whole life if maybe I am weird or slow indeed in a ways I am not aware. I would never know if that is because of my face or not. But when I moved to less white region, it has been long time and no one acted towards me that dismissive. I also stopped worrying about my nose and keeping skin as white as possible, bc I don't stick out so much anymore. Hairdressers sometimes still try to convince me to bleach my hear, because I would look good, but I reject it. The thing is, if I talk about these in english speaking places while only mentioning my location, women (I suppose mostly white, who do that) try to convince me I am just a bit mentally unwell, imagined prejudice where it did not happen, obsess over my looks etc. If I mention my ethnic compound, they revert to blanket validation, which is also weird to me, bc it's so overt and suddenly they take me seriously. When they do it, I honestly feel like impostor. Or I guess before that they imagined slavic blonde like stereotypically shown? (It's actually wrong stereotype, but it's another topic.) My question is, I don't really I can call myself woc, I would be imposing on woc with actual problems. If I was say half and half with equal connection to both cultures, it would be another matter. But I also treasure my asian ancestry and what I could find of it, the genes of my asian grandmothers are seen in my face, and I think it is not fair to them if I don't mention that. Maybe you have some advice on that, on how can I indicate my ancestry better without imposing on others who deal with actual oppression unlike me? Sorry it turned out a bit long.

hi anon!! first of all, i feel like you’re questioning your perception & intelligence and just so you know, you don’t seem stupid at all to me. at least based on this message, you seem to be an introspective and well-spoken woman, albeit with clear confidence issues.

in terms of how you can accurately describe your ancestry, i’m also mixed but not 50/50 as it is intergenerational, so i understand how it can be difficult to describe ur experiences. i simply state im mixed & if ppl assume it means i’m half black and half MENA, i correct them and state that is inaccurate to my reality. you could say the same, basically calling urself mixed white + central asian or just mixed. even the term biracial does not necessarily mean half & half although some people assume that to be the case, so u could use that too. u could even say ur white-passing biracial (although im not sure if white-passing describes u accurately? since u said u feel like u look more similar to central asians when u live among them). u could also say ur white with asian ancestry if u feel like being white defines ur experiences more prominently

[onesheeptwosheepandachicken]

26 Reasons why Qrow is not Ruby’s father and why Taiyang is Ruby’s father

In response to the toxic aspect of the fandom attacking CRWBY and demanding that their desires for Qrow be chosen over canon, or how they feel their theory is more valid than the show itself? I have researched RWBY to make this 26-point Discussion as to why Canon is valid, and fancanon is not when it comes to Qrow Branwen, Ruby Rose, Taiyang Xiao Long, and Summer Rose.

 1.       “Monty said NO”    Most obviously. Monty Oum.

   He said in this tweet that ruby and yang are half-sisters…half-sisters,  which means they share the same mom or dad…in this case Taiyang….

  https://twitter.com/montyoum/status/492070189731565568

Now people have claimed “he obviously meant step-sisters or cousins” Why is it that every time we show the English dictionary to you people or ask you to read it, that you claim you are being attacked or that you claim Monty was misleading us?

 2.       The writers said NO

   Miles Luna debunked this theory on Reddit…

   He pointed out that Ruby sees Qrow as a Role model, so she adapts her colors to be similar to his.

   And you don’t need somebody to be blood to be your role model.

https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/7x3w4s/crwby_ama_w_miles_luna_kerry_shawcross_and_paula/du5d67g/?

 3. “Rooster Teeth said NO” Rooster Teeth even said that Qrow is "Ruby and Yang's Uncle" They also said “Ladies, he’s not your man”

https://twitter.com/RoosterTeeth/status/1067205612331782144

 4.  “But what if Summer had feelings for Qrow? Why does Qrow Serve Ozpin?” Qrow said in Volume 6 " No one wanted me... I was cursed... I gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world... I thought I was finally doing some good... " So he was saying he wasn't wanted, so no relationship with Summer. SUMMER DID NOT WANT HIM. And he was literally saying he served Ozpin because Ozpin gave him purpose. It’s pretty sad how people think Qrow can only be a complex character if he obsesses over another person’s wife and child. What , you wanna make him Severus Snape, the Lilly Potter stalker who insulted a girl’s face and tried to poison a boy’s pet and publicly outed a teacher?

https://rwby.fandom.com/wiki/Qrow_Branwen/Quotes#So_That.27s_How_It_Is

5, "But Qrow could be lying" Except in volume 6 Qrow literally said "Don't lie...we're better than that"

And in volume 7?

" Long time ago. I just found working alone tends to be for the best "

" Gotta say, I’m still not really used to working with other Huntsmen in the field. "

And finally World Of Remnant on Patch.

" Nice place to raise a family, if you're into that sort of thing. "

https://rwby.fandom.com/wiki/Qrow_Branwen/Quotes#So_That.27s_How_It_Is

  6.  “Qrow fans claim that Ruby and Summer form a core part of Qrow’s character and backstory.” WRONG! The main accusation for demanding Rooster Teeth / CRWBY change the backstory for Qrow would accomplish nothing.

Raven already pushed Yang onto Taiyang to raise on his own.

Qrow forcing Tai to Raise Ruby alongside Yang while Qrow could regularly visit, and while Summer lived with Taiyang, Yang, and Ruby?

It would cheapen Qrow’s character….blood isn’t everything.  Neither are cliches.

 7. “But what if Qrow gave Ruby to Tai to raise after Summer’s death?” Volume Chapter 6, Burning the Candle.

Yang tells Blake that she (yang) and Ruby were raised together by Summer and Taiyang…not by Taiyang on his own, but by Summer and Taiyang.

Yang clearly had memories of being raised by Summer and Tai both,  which meant that Summer and Taiyang lived together raising Ruby and Yang for Several Years.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZkN-53h5Os

  8. “Does Taiyang care about Summer or Ruby?” Taiyang was noted to have shut down when Summer didn’t come back…. Yang noted this in Volume 2 Chapter 6, and Ruby mentioned in the first episode of Volume 3 that Taiyang missed Summer. Qrow also said that Ruby is Taiyang’s “Special Angel”…. Ruby has also pointed out numerous times that Taiyang is Overprotective of Ruby. In fact, Ruby's conversation with Penny about overprotective fathers.

 9. “Qrow knows Taiyang is Ruby’s Father. Taiyang knows Ruby is Taiyang’s daughter. Qrow has referred to Taiyang as Ruby’s father during volume 3 and 7. Taiyang referred to Ruby as his daughter in volume 3.

 10. “Why didn’t Taiyang train Ruby in Martial Arts?” Taiyang is a martial arts fighter.   Ruby has neither the build nor the personality for ruthless hand to hand combat like her sister… Taiyang would trust Qrow, despite his semblance.   Remember how bad Ruby was in v5?

 11. “Qrow’s semblance is not what his fans exaggerate it to be”

Speaking of Qrow’s semblance? He was playing video games with his nieces,   taught at Signal Academy,   and could train Ruby… Clearly,  his semblance is not what theorists make it out to be.

 12. “Why doesn’t Qrow treat Yang the same way he treats Ruby?”

Yang is the daughter of Qrow’s sister,who abandoned the team.

During a one on one interaction between Qrow and Yang after yang vs mercury, Qrow called his own niece crazy, after she had been framed.

Qrow was not empathetic to Yang.

Qrow may not like Yang’s resemblance to Raven.

Ruby is the daughter of his two closest friends, so of course he’d prefer Ruby over Yang.

 13.  “Examples of Taiyang caring for Ruby.”

Volume 2 Ruby was excited when Taiyang sent a package in the mail, not even knowing it was Zwei.

Taiyang was at Ruby’s bedside in V3, and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

He also tried to bring her breakfast in bed.

Taiyang said he wanted to chase after Ruby, but had to nurse Yang back to health.

During the V8 broadcast, Taiyang was upset when the broadcast was cut.

 14. “Genetics research”

Black hair is the subtype of the pigment for blonde hair…

Also, Ruby’s got the same hair strand that Yang and Taiyang have.

Finally, black hair is more dominant.

So Ruby doesn’t need blonde hair to be Taiyang’s kid.

https://askinglot.com/is-black-hair-a-dominant-or-recessive-gene

https://www.quora.com/If-a-jet-black-haired-parent-and-a-blonde-parent-have-children-what-color-hair-would-the-children-likely-have

 15. “The STRQ Photo”

The photo....Qrow was with STRQ for four years...do you really think Qrow is not allowed to cry on the photo unless he was romantically involved? Can't a man grieve over the death of a female friend that he was NOT in a relationship with? Or are men not allowed to have female friends? Ichigo and Rukia from Bleach for example...friendship. They were his friends, his family. People seem obsessed with the idea that Qrow cannot care about a woman unless he was romantically involved or unless he's their bastard father.

 16. “Men and Women…as friends, platonic” Harry Potter as a book showed that a boy and a girl can interact and still be friends…

Why can’t Qrow be Summer’s friend?

Why does he have to be her lover?

We’ve seen Qrow talk about Innkeeper’s skirt lengths and leer at Barmaids who flirted with him.

Also, he’s shown to be bonding with both Clover and Robyn.

People act like he doesn't flirt with anyone , and yet he does.

 17. “Bad Luck Charm” Qrow has spent his whole life with his semblance, named after a Crow.

Raised by the Branwen bandit tribe.

“You and I are not the same, you don’t want the burden of my name” Both Branwen and Qrow are names that Qrow hates due to his semblance and past…

People may think of him as cool, but Qrow suffers from self-loathing.

So NO, the Bad Luck Charm song does NOT in fact allude to Qrow being Ruby’s father, but that Qrow hates himself, hence a major part of why he’s alcoholic.

Proof of which is his volume 6 exchange with Ozpin about being useful, which Qrow disagrees with, leading him to drink further. Yang literally said that she had never seen qrow so drunk before in v6.

And Ruby encourages his self-worth leading him to try giving up alcohol….

His alcoholism is tied to low-self-esteem, not relationships.

 18. Manga Anthology

Taiyang was shown in the Manga Anthology to have shut down upon Summer’s Death. That impacted his relationship with Ruby and Yang. Qrow? Is relatively unaffected. The good Uncle helping around the house. Taiyang haters and Qrow stans took this to demand that Qrow is entitled to Ruby, despite Taiyang recovering and doing his best to be a father. Anything Qrow does is worshipped like Mother Teresa, while anything Taiyang does, good or bad, is downplayed and smashed. Taiyang loved Summer so much he was devastated by her death. Qrow was unaffected. Think about that.

 19. “I like Brats” Why does Qrow spend time with kids he’s not related to? Because he likes kids. You know how there are adults who enjoy being around brats? That’s Qrow. He didn’t have romantic feelings for Summer, he liked being around her because she was like a kid. Similar to how Blake likes Ruby’s idealism? And trusts her leadership?

 20.  “Taiyang the 2-timer accusation”

A woman on youtube claimed that Taiyang was a 2-timer who cheated on raven with summer, as there was, in her and her friends’ minds, “no way that taiyang could be with half his team” When asked about TaiQrow as a joke, she was angered that people even ship TaiQrow.

But let me ask you this. Are you the same person you are now that you were 10 years ago? People claim that Qrow was somehow cool in beacon…because he’s cool now. But Taiyang, who raises two kids, and holds a job and a house…cannot be ruby’s father…because he’s not cool? And that somehow he was never cool? I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had to be cool to be a parent. I also had no idea people were only allowed to be in one relationship per lifetime. Raven freaking abandoned Tai for the tribe. Summer chose Taiyang over Qrow. People literally make Qrow out to be either an OC in a shipping fanfic, or a Naruto fanfic where Naruto is written to be fawned over by a girl whose canonical spouse, boyfriend, or male friend is somehow rewritten as evil.

1 year…..in 1 year since Raven abandoned Taiyang and Yang, Summer Rose the friend of Taiyang’s who he had known for 4 years, became more than a friend.

So no….Taiyang is not a two-timer…he moved on from Raven.

 22. “Why can’t Taiyang talk about Summer?” To WHO? He’s barely got 15 minutes of screentime, and the writers did NOT do him any favors when they had Qrow demand he leave so Qrow could tell Ruby a secret Ozpin trusted him with, before telling Ruby to run away from home leaving only a freaking note. Terrible daughter. Even Yang was prepared to do the same! To a man whose first wife abandoned him! At least Weiss has a legit reason for acting as she does against Jacques, several at least. Ruby? No. Now why would Taiyang talk about Summer’s fighting style to Yang when trying to get her to stop acting like Raven in her fighting style and semblance? Sure if there was more time…but RT at the end of the day isn’t some money-hungry political entity, it’s a startup at the end of the day, they don’t have the ability to do a full anime episode. Also, Taiyang cannot go out on these active missions…he was a schoolteacher who did not do missions until only recently…he was retired, remember.

 23. “These fanworks make more sense to me”

Qrow fans have tried using fanworks to justify their theory or ship, the same way Blacksun fans or Adam apologists make similar claims, and even Raven fans try to claim Raven is somehow a good mother. What do these fanworks do? Hate on Taiyang. Dismiss Ruby and Yang being half-blood siblings. Ignore multiple elements of the show or scenes. Occasionally shit-talk the writers.

Every time somebody tries to make a “rwby rewrite” or “rwby alt” or “Qrow is ruby’s father au” they cannot do it without completely rewriting the characters in so many forms and even the show, till Qrow, Raven, Taiyang, and Summer are NOTHING like they are in the show…And ONLY how a shipper wants qrow to be.

Or rewriting qrow to be nothing like he is in the show.

Most Alt or Rewrite consists of making Taiyang abusive, a cheater, or refusing to allow him to interact with Summer, while regularly pushing qrowxsummer at each other.

So no…it’s not that it makes sense to them through some fanart….a headcanon that has been debunked is no longer headcanon. A theory that is shut down is no longer a theory. There’s a reason anti-vaxxers and flat-earthers still exist. Because to them, their theories make more sense than reality. Which is why people still believe Qrow is Ruby’s father the same way people believe vaccines cause autism. Neither are true, and no amount of facts will shut them down, but they’re both popular theories.

 24. “Qrow Rings and Cross”

People claim that Qrow was married to Summer or that his cross represents him mourning Summer. Did the STRQ photo, in v3, the same volume as his appearance, not show Qrow with his rings, his cross, and angrily scowling, while Summer was right next to Taiyang?

 25. “What about Summer Rose’s choice?”

Remember how I said making Qrow’s character based on solely Ruby and Summer, ignoring everything regarding the tribe and ozpin giving him hope, and the grimm reaper…was bad writing? There’s a reason people hated v5. Raven was proven to be the deadbeat, Qrow was shown to have friends, and that Taiyang knew about Salem, and of course it was confirmed that Yang and Ruby again were sisters by Raven.

Now how about Summer? Team leader….took a man and a daughter who were abandoned by her friend…and made them her own. Yang calls Summer Rose “Supermom” and “Her Hero”…was literally willing to storm a bandit camp so Raven could use her portal to take Yang to Qrow, so she could get to Ruby. And yeah, I know the RWBY critics scream “why didn’t Yang just look for Ruby in Mistral?” It’s a bloody kingdom, and Yang was pursuing a lead, that Tai had given her, and Qrow told Yang he’d look after her sister. Remember that? Oh wait, RWBY Critics forget, my bad. Anyway, she’s more of a sister to Qrow than his blood sister Raven, she’s more of a mother to Yang than Raven, and she’s more of a spouse to Tai than Raven. Good Stepmother. Non-married couple. Relationship built on trust. Blood is not the same as family. (Example Weiss’s remark to her father) (Or Dom Toretto)

So making Summer into a throw-away character who dies so that a brooding jerk of an alcoholic can claim character development? Making a woman nothing except a throw-away for a man to get development is BAD WRITING. For God’s Sakes, even Pyrrha was written better than that! She interacted with team rwby, nora was always helping her out, and so was Ren (though those shakes are a crime against humanity” But when Qrow fans try to demand he’s ruby’s father? Their fanworks make Summer as much of a flat character as Preston Harvey from Fallout 4, where they make Summer unable to do anything but be obsessed with Qrow and having his child, similar to how Preston cannot think of anything other than “Another settlement needs your help, I’ll mark it on your pip-boy”

 26. Finally, the accusations that CRWBY are lying.

“You have to be ****** if you believe CRWBY when they say Qrow isn’t Ruby’s father” “CRWBY is lying, it’s what writers do” “It’s okay for writers to lie, it’s good for plot” “I’d prefer it if CRWBY was lying to us” “Monty is dead, the writers should change it now” “Monty is dead, nothing else in the writing matters” “Monty was hiding the truth from us” “CRWBY is hiding the truth about Qrow being Ruby’s father” “It makes sense for CRWBY to lie to us” Look at this…Twitter, Youtube, Facebook, Tumblr, Reddit, instagram…. The first quote? Was a woman who was using an anti-autism anti-disability slur defending the theory. Never have I ever seen people so obsessed with a  theory that they would deny reality and be rude to the very writers and original creator. But the QrowxSummer and Qrow is Ruby’s Father fandom group has made countless cases of this. THIS is how they defend their theory? And people upvote, like and support these remarks? SHAME SHAME SHAME

 Conclusion:

I get how people desire qrow to be Ruby’s father for ships or fanfics.

Even to where they make Taiyang a hated character just for the sake of making sure nobody disagrees with them.

But the attacking of RWBY and CRWBY, claiming that “this needs to be fixed”, or getting angry at RT for not giving you the non-canon ship you want? Claiming that just because you want it to be so, that somehow your ship/theory has “validity?”

That reflects poorly on the fandom and critics.

But then again…. It’s easy to ignore what’s real and what’s a fact that when theorists and ship-pushers and CRWBY Haters on youtube tells you to stop listening to monty and the writers, and instead believe whatever you want and claim whatever you want, Because surely you know what’s better for the show than the people who worked on it, right? Ha ha ha, no. THAT is the ULTIMATE disrespect somebody calling themselves a fan could ever give. And if you think or agree with that type of logic, you should look in the mirror.

I looked for backup sources to defend CRWBY and RWBY, you’ll find them below.

Backup sources include:

 https://aminoapps.com/c/rwby/page/blog/qrow-is-not-rubys-dad/422o_0rbCYuoXj36VoB7obK3MXPZRbPKkz5

 https://aminoapps.com/c/rwby/page/blog/why-the-qrow-is-rubys-father-theory-is-wrong/z668_nQlIxu0dmRdRpEPxqE3qlWlZEmoE2

 https://aminoapps.com/c/rwby/page/blog/qrow-cant-possibly-be-rubys-and-heres-why/8BB5_LPVCmu2bonkw8eEP3Yokg8m8zJlgNV

 https://aminoapps.com/c/rwby/page/blog/why-qrow-isnt-rubys-father/lXXx_5QoUQuPVGo3Wgko3wJ52mMBl7644P

 https://aminoapps.com/c/rwby/page/blog/is-qrow-rubys-father-short-answer-no/422o_0rbCYupDKezxPxpdje7dRn3nB8YvZ

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KPbft3KJd6o

https://aminoapps.com/c/rwby/page/blog/qrow-is-rubys-dad-theory-debunk/d33g_pQEcbu1NKQoMEv0kmDpP6N8bmowkkq

[yoongi-sugaglider]

Daegu Quarantine

Jungkook x reader

Gang/ zombie apocalypse au

Warnings:

Gore, violence, blood, gun shot wounds, zombies, mention of drugs and drug dealing, weapons discharge in self defense, main character death, zombies, course language, zombies, drinking, did I mention zombies?

Summary:

They were the top of their game, known throughout the city as the smartest and most dangerous crew to ever hit the Daegu streets. But what’s going to happen when this group of young men encounter something right out of a horror film?

Word count: 2588

Part 14===Part 15===Part 16

The sound of screaming voices awoke me the next morning to the sight of an empty room. The dull aching in my chest and leg only grew the more my mind woke up.

The screaming escalated, followed by a series of crashes and thumps from downstairs. I sighed, shifting to the side and almost having to roll myself into a sitting position. It wasn’t unusual to wake up to the sound of yelling, but from the way things seemed to be, this one might just actually be serious.

Throwing my legs over the edge of the bed I inhaled deeply, steeling myself to stand when the bedroom door swung open and a wild looking Jeanette and Rose bolted inside before slamming the door shut behind them.

Rose slid down the back of the door, arms folded over her knees as she leaned her head against it and closed her eyes. Jeanette inhaled, exhaling the breath slowly through her nose in a quiet whistle and humming to herself as she shook her head at the closed door.

“What’s going on out there?” I asked, wincing slightly when the two women jumped and whipped their heads around to stare at me with terrified gazes.

“Shit! You’re awake!”

“Oh thank god you’re awake!”

Their voices swirled and merged into one single unit of confusing emotions and I couldn’t help but snicker at their faces. “Okay, conflicting moment aside there. I’ll repeat, what in the ever loving fuck are those idiots up to downstairs?”

The two began talking at once, each speaking animatedly and raising their voices in an attempt to talk over the other. I raised a finger, instantly silencing them to sheepish glances between each other.

“I am...one person. With two ears, and half a brain coming down off of some pretty intense pain killers. Please...one at a time.”

Jeanette glanced at Rose who shrugged in defeat before dropping her chin to rest on her folded arms. The younger woman gave her a nod of deference to speak on the subject.

“Well...okay so like this morning when I got up everything was pretty quiet so I thought I’d go to the kitchen to start breakfast. Hobi was there balancing dishes from the dishwasher in one hand while trying to open a cabinet with the other. Your uh..Jungkook was sitting at the table kinda staring off into space when Tae came in and scared Hoseok. He dropped all the dishes and that’s what set Jungkook off. Jimin jumped in and they started screaming at Tae about some mission and well... They’ve been fighting ever since and it’s only getting worse.”

I let out a long suffering sigh, scrubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes before looking up at them. “Help me up.” 

“But…” Jeanette paused as I shook my head.

“I’ve got to get down there. Those idiots are going to kill each other and I’m the only one that can stop them.”

Rose groaned, banging her head against the door and fisting her hands through her hair. “This is all my fault…”

“That’s not true.” I grunted, shifting my weight to the edge of the bed. 

“But if I hadn’t been there you wouldn’t have gotten hurt and they wouldn’t be fighting over it.” She groaned again, head hanging as teardrops fell to the floor.

“Tae and Jimin have been at odds for a very long time. And Jungkook...well… Kookie can be the absolute sweetest and smartest man you could meet. But when it comes right down to it the man is an actual blonde. I joke with him all the time they dipped his brain in bleach before they handed him off to his mother.”

Rose snorted, glancing up to me as she wiped her tears away. “Isn’t that all men though?”

The three of us giggled, sharing a moment of joined exasperation before sobering up as another crash echoed through the house.

“Alright, for real. Jin’s gonna cry if any more of his kitchen gets destroyed. Come on, help me up. I’ve got to end this.”

***

True to form the dumb asses were still fighting by the time we’d made it down the stairs. 

Jimin was off to the side, standing by the fridge as he screamed obscenities at Taehyung. Jungkook and Tae were on the floor, pulling at each other’s hair with their legs wrapped around one another to keep the other from escaping.

A massive bruise had bloomed just beneath Tae’s right eye and Jungkook’s lip was split and seeping blood all over.

“It’s all your fault Tae! Every time she’s gotten hurt it’s always you to blame!” Jimin screamed. He moved as if to launch himself into the scuffle but Hobi, who’d been watching from the stove reached over to stop him, effectively wrapping him in a bear hug and pinning his arms to his sides.

“Oh no you don’t Doc. We don’t need you getting hurt.”

“Let me go! Let me at him! This has been a long time coming Hobi!” The boy was basically foaming at the mouth, tears streaming down his cheeks as he struggled in the dancer’s hold.

I couldn’t help but sigh, knowing the only way to stop this was if I intervened. Glancing between Jeanette and Rose I shrugged them off, taking a step forward on my own and muttering under my breath. This was going to suck.

“Boys! Please! Stop this!” I yelled, internally cringing as my weight landed on my injured leg.

The offending limb buckled under the pressure, causing me to yelp out in pain as I staggered forward a half a step before falling to the ground. It was worth it though.

All activity in the room ceased. For a moment it was quiet as I lay there wheezing and whimpering in pain. And then chaos ensued.

From my vantage point I could see the boys scrambling to my side, Jungkook and Tae disentangling themselves from each other as Jimin and Hobi pushed each other out of the way in an attempt to reach my side. Jin, Namjoon, and Yoongi walked into the room just in time to see Rose and Jeanette reach me first, shooing the boys out of the way as they helped me into a sitting position.

“Fuck sake. What are you all in here tearing the place up for?” Namjoon growled, giving the younger boys the stink eye as Jimin crouched at my side to check my bandages.

“They’ve been arguing for the last hour, how have you all not noticed till now?” Hobi grumped as he stood to his feet and dusted off his jeans.

“Because unlike you idiots we’ve actually been doing something.” Seokjin frowned, leaning his broad shoulders against the doorframe as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“And what’s got the three of you so wrapped up in each other that you couldn’t notice the idiot brigade trying to off one another?” I huffed, pushing away the pain of my leg.

“Securing the satellite links, setting up better firewall protections for the security cameras.” Namjoon replied.

“Reinforcing the front gate, making sure our rear’s covered in terms of fortifications.” Yoongi added in.

“Adding more cameras to the sides of the house just to make sure we have every inch of the lawn and side yards covered.” Seokjin frowned, glancing at the three younger men. “I can’t believe the three of you are grown ass men. And to think one of you is in charge of giving me orders.”

He shook his head, eyes darting back and forth between them before landing on the mess that was his kitchen. It was almost comical the way his gaze went from mildly frustrated to all of a sudden full blown horror and betrayal.

“M...my… MY KITCHEN!!!”

The series of events that followed may have been comical but it certainly managed to squash the feud and rising tensions that’d settled over my boys in the time I’d been unconscious.

Jeanette and Rose managed to help me off the ground, settling me into a chair at the center island as Seokjin screamed and ranted about how ungrateful the younger men were while demanding they cleaned up their mess.

Jungkook and Taehyung actually managed to look ashamed and remorseful as they swept up the broken plates together and wiped down the counters before settling into mopping the entirety of the area. They stayed silent, barely glancing at each other or speaking until Jin tore into Namjoon who’d resigned himself to ‘helping’ cook breakfast before getting scolded about holding the knife upside down as he attempted to chop an onion.

“Ya! How can someone have such a high IQ and STILL not know the meaning for sharp side down?? All those brains and muscles and no common sense!” Jin’s face shone bright red as he screamed, barely stopping for breath as he smacked poor Namjoon over the head with a wooden spoon.

Taehyung snorted, Jungkook giggled, and after a shared look between them they burst out laughing, leaning against each other for support as they lost their minds over the sheer visual of the genius level man getting scolded by his elder.

Jimin all the while did his best to address my leg, crouching beneath the ledge of the island as he checked the skin above and  beneath the bandage.

“It hasn’t bled through, so the stitches are holding. But I really wish you would stay off it as much as possible.” He frowned up at me, tiny hands wrapped gently around my ankle as he balanced on his heels.

“I’m sorry Doc. It’s just, you all were so worked up over nothing and I just had to do something to get it to stop.” I shrugged, not sure if it was a valid enough reason for almost dislocating anything that was still left to injure.

“I mean, you could have just fired in the air or something. Thrown something at them, anything but literally throwing yourself to the ground and risking actually breaking something.”

“I could have sure. But that would have meant risking the ceiling and Yoongi’s room. Not about that life if I’m being honest.” I grinned at the doctor, earning myself an exasperated glare and a pat to my uninjured leg.

“Really, and here I thought you were the rational one in this group of misfits.” Jimin stood, brushing his pants off and then walking around the island to wash his hands at the sink.

“I may be irrational at times but at least I have the ability to forgive people.” My blunt words hit home. I could tell. He’d paused all motion, staring down at his hands as the water ran over his fingers.

I reached across, turning the sink off and folding my hands before me on the cool countertop. Patiently I waited, watching the emotions flit across his face faster than his expert fingers stitching up a wound.

“Jimin...we’re going to have to talk about this eventually.” I spoke calmly, knowing that anything could set him off if I misspoke.

“I know it’s just…”

“We were all attached. The first truly good thing to come out of all our awful work.” Pausing I focused for a moment on the tiny scrapes and scratches I’d gotten from being out in the thick of it.

“We got comfortable. All of us did. And sloppy. But Taehyung can’t be blamed for that. We were all at fault. But more importantly those bastards that kidnapped me and tried to hold me hostage were at fault.” I turned slightly, watching as the others went about their business.

“When it came down to it he had to make a choice. Yes we’re always family first but everything was on the line. Literally everything Jimin.” I turned back to him, watching the frown deepen his brow and tug that sweet face of his into a scowl. “If it weren’t for Taehyun,g half our crew would be dead or in jail. Including Namjoon and Jungkook. Do you think I’d have ever let him live it down if he had chosen any other way?”

He shook his head, tossing the towel in his hands on the counter. “No… No you’re right. You wouldn’t have. You’d have torn Daegu up, burned the whole city down.” He chuckled and I joined him, my shoulders shaking with the snickers joined between us.

“You’re not wrong. But considering the circumstances I didn’t need to do a thing. The city’s already burning.” The mood chilled at those words and we sat together in silence, watching the others fuss and fight over cooking and who was on dish duty.

“This could be the end days huh?”

Turning back to him I sighed, though the motion left me wincing at the pain in my chest. “That may be so… and if it is, if everything is ending and the world is burning...shouldn’t you go make up with your best friend?”

“...Yeah….yeah you’re right.” his eyes crinkled as he smiled at me, reaching across and giving my hand a squeeze. “Thank you for talking some sense into me.”

“Jungkook may be the brawn but we all know I’m the brains of the operation here.” I snorted at my own words. My heart warmed as I watched Jimin walk over to Tae and begin whispering softly to him.

Both men, grown as they were, became teary eyed, suddenly lunging forward and hugging each other as close as two men could.

“Damn, look at you.” Rose plopped into the chair beside me, nudging my arm as she grinned at the two now openly sobbing gangsters. “You get paid to be the family shrink?”

“Nah, they couldn’t afford me if I were to actually charge them.”

Jeanette ambled over, hand subconsciously rubbing her belly as she leaned into Rose who wrapped a gentle arm around her waist. “I don’t think even the richest man could afford your services. You really out here keeping these boys from killing each other and still surviving in this world? Absolute boss if you ask me.”

It felt good to laugh with them as we sat there. It’d been a good long while since I’d had female friends. Not that I didn’t love my boys but there was something about being around someone who got my mind without me having to say something that just felt so right.

Things settled down as we all gathered around to our meal, the chatter subdued and amiable as food was passed around in abundance. It would last us a while sure, but the idea that at some point it might run out had us all appreciating it that much more.

As I munched on my toast my mind wandered, but my thoughts were abruptly by Taehyung and Rose cheering as they jumped out of their chairs and began laughing and hugging each other.

“YAH! What the hell!” Jin demanded as he scrambled to wipe the juice he’d spilled on himself at the shock of their cheering.

“We did it!” Tae grinned, the biggest boxiest grin on his face as his ears blushed crimson from the kiss Rose had planted on his cheek.

“We managed to fix all of the security issues! Cams are on lock and all internal systems are now free of amature hour hack jobs!” Rose’s smile was infectious, cheering the whole table and causing the others to whoop and holler their appreciation for the two computer experts.

[proudgodot]

Gratitude

I was not initially planning to post about this, given that my unfortunate tendency to over-share has caused me quite a bit of grief in the past, but the truth is that I simply couldn’t resist this time. Typically when I am overcome by an uncontrollable desire to post it is because I am desperately in need of attention or validation, so much so that I can’t actually remember a time when I posted because I was genuinely eager to share something. It was always out of some perverse and misplaced sense of obligation, but it finally feels as if that burden is lifted. While I was writing this post, it was because I felt a genuine…. pride over something I had accomplished, something I genuinely wanted to share with the world. When I chose the name of this blog I didn’t earnestly expect that I would ever feel anything other than shame about myself… it seemed more an ideal than an actual plausible prediction. I’m just so relieved my wish came true.

Anyway, I suppose that is quite enough navel-gazing for the time being… I can only imagine my followers have probably had enough of that to last a long and fulfilling lifetime. I reckon it’s time to move on to the actual story.

As most of you well know, following the dramatic events of the Kristahlia drama, I suddenly found myself with the new responsibility of parenthood. There are certainly aspects of my new lifestyle that have been difficult to adjust to… principle of which is that I am supposed to serve as a sort of role model for these developing and damaged boys. I have never been particularly aspirational, in fact you would be hard-pressed to find someone as underperforming as me. Although I was prone to overcompensating for such things, always desperately trying to prove that I was capable of as much as the bare minimum, looking back I see that I grew too comfortable with those low expectations. When it registered that as a caretaker I would suddenly have to perform a sort of excellence, not for the sake of my fragile ego but for the betterment of these children… I was immediately overcome by a painful inadequacy. However, as our first week together progressed, I came to realize that in certain regards all of us were personally inadequate, and it was for that very reason we had taken on this responsibility together. Although I certainly had my short-comings, that wasn’t something unique to me, and over time we all began to coordinate better and help manage each other’s weaknesses. I was somewhat surprised to learn this was not only true of the adults, but the children as well. The dynamic we developed as a family was rather symbiotic… I found that regardless of age we all had something to offer each other.

Regardless, I promised myself that I would do whatever it took to keep my found family as distant as possible from my most severe personal issues. My past was something I felt I had to resolve independently, no matter how tempting it was to once again depend on the people in my life to solve my problems in my stead. That is why when I made the decision to start looking into Anton’s whereabouts, I never spoke a word about it to my housemates.

Facebook made finding his account incredibly easy, distressingly so in fact. I became acutely aware of the possibility that he might have been recommended my account numerous times over the years and had consciously chosen not to send me a friend request, which although completely understandable still hurt immensely to imagine. Perhaps my hopelessly romantic dream to reconnect with the man was unrequited, and would be rejected with extreme prejudice if vocalized. Eventually, however, I managed to muster up the courage to actually inspect his profile. I discovered that after our quarrel six years ago and his subsequent transferral Anton had moved back to his hometown in Ann Arbor to complete his degree in art and design. Since graduating, he had been working as a freelance artist and animator… he often posted about how proud of his projects he was, and it was reassuring to see his enthusiasm had not diminished in the slightest over the years. One detail about his profile that immediately jumped out at me was his relationship status, which was currently set to single. Despite myself, I immediately felt a small flicker of hope ignite within my quickened heart. Upon further investigation, it appeared he’d been involved in several relationships over the years that had ultimately ended in failure, although the circumstances were unclear. I only hoped he hadn’t made a habit of dating unappreciative losers…

I managed to quell my anxiety briefly and force myself to send him a friend request, which almost immediately filled me with a sense of mounting dread. My anticipation wasn’t even allowed much time to simmer, because mere minutes after I sent the message I was notified that it had been accepted. Instinctively, I slammed my laptop shut and jumped out of my seat, forgetting that I was incapable of standing up so quickly without losing all feeling in my legs and face planting into the floor. I instantly regretted not taking Addy’s advice and getting that checked by a doctor, because soon enough the entire family was in my room gathered around my body and asking questions with varying degrees of concern and amusement. Although I had wanted to keep my activity a secret, at that moment I was swept away in the drama, and so I began to mindlessly rant about the situation.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but soon enough there were six pairs of hands all frantically scrambling for control of my keyboard. While I laid incapacitated on the floor, my friends had taken it upon themselves to respond to Anton’s messages, each expressing their own thoughts from my account in randomly alternating orders depending on who had managed to prevail in the wrestling. It seemed that Iara maintained the upper hand most of the fight, although it was admittedly difficult to tell over the frenzy at times considering my limited view from the floor.

Eventually, the chaos subsided and everyone turned to look at me with beaming smiles on their faces, some more devious than others. I immediately began to worry that they had sabotaged me somehow, be it in light-hearted jest or in an earnest act of betrayal, and so I asked them nervously what exactly they had done. For a moment it seemed they were trying to contain their excitement, but it didn’t take long for them to erupted into an uproarious celebration, complete with victorious chants that Anton was coming to meet us in person this evening!

I didn’t know how to react. All at once a tempest of conflicting emotions completely overpowered me… and I mean that quite literally. I knocked out cold, and when I finally woke up I discovered that not only had Kyler been trying to shock me awake by applying Takis to my tongue, but that the situation had not miraculously resolved itself. Although everyone else had mostly settled down, my mind was whirling a mile a minute with all of the things I had to do to prepare. I had a whole bucket list I needed to accomplish before I was comfortable standing in front of Anton again… and as much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t possibly get everything done myself over such a brief time. To my surprise, I didn’t even have a chance to put my reservations aside before they had already agreed to help me based off of my panicked listing of errands alone. Despite my reluctance to involve my new friends in the more turbulent aspects of personal life, it seemed they were actually eager to get involved themselves… I discovered that my problems were not an inconvenience to them, but rather something they were excited to help me work through.

The first obstacle I had to overcome was also the hardest… that being that I had never properly apologized to Gabriella and Lana for my dishonest and frankly abusive treatment. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t have the words to express my remorse or that I hadn’t processed my guilt, but that Gabriella’s parting words to me specifically informed me not to contact her and I didn’t want to once again disrespect her wishes. However, after some words of encouragement from the family, I managed to write a relatively concise three thousand word email taking responsibility for my past actions and wishing the couple well. As I was writing this post, I actually received a response from the two telling me they appreciated my apology and were glad to see I had grown into a more mature person. Apparently they have just finished settling into their cottage and are now doing better than ever. Lana even expressed an interest in meeting Addy and Iara in particular sometime… I suppose it’s a sapphic thing. I’m just glad that they’re finally living the happy life they deserve without being held back by backwards men.

My email took longer to type then I had expected, and although I certainly can not regret pouring my heart into the message given its importance, it did mean that we had to pick up the pace with the rest of the bucket list. Kyler took this quite literally, speeding at what must have been 100 miles per hour towards the mall despite nearly giving me a heart attack and my insistence that he not set such a bad example for Chris and Klav. We actually ended up getting pulled over, but luckily Iara managed to scare the officer away with her signature scowl. The next few hours were a frantic rush of errands, all focused on helping me actually express myself without the burden of repression. There were moments when it was a struggle, such as when I nearly hyperventilated in Claire’s before they pierced my ears, but ultimately I am immensely satisfied with the results. The most fulfilling moment was finally getting the tips of my hair bleached white to match my new profile picture. Chris actually got his hair dyed alongside me, changing his style from pale blond to black and white to reflect his new kin. It was incredibly rewarding to accomplish this alongside him… I had never been the subject of anything but disappointment from my parents, so it was an incredible feeling to be able to experience that absent parental pride for myself, even if it was with a different perspective.  

By the time Anton was forecasted to arrive, my appearance had been upgraded to better reflect my current sense of self… all that was left was for me to get in the right mindset. Luckily, my family was perfectly eager to act as my own personal “hype beasts,” as Kyler put it. They offered excellent emotional support in the half-hour we sat in the den patiently awaiting his arrival, especially Addy, who really took my mind off things by offering to play me in a game of chess. I lost quite handedly, but for once I don’t have it in me to be a spoilsport. When we heard that fateful knock at the door, they all immediately ran into the nearest closest and shut themselves inside to give us some space, but not before giving me a final set of encouraging thumbs up. I hesitated for a moment, questioning once again whether I was really ready to take such a big step in my life. My hand paused, hovering over the door knob uncertainly… until I heard the faint sounds of Steely Dan’s Come on Eileen coming from inside the closet, accompanied by the muffled sound of Klav’s giggle. Reignited by the familiar sounds of my favorite musicians, I swung the door open with a new and uncharacteristic conviction.

And there he was… I was immediately captivated by just how strong his presence was. My memories hadn’t done him justice… it really was like I was in the presence of an angel. I was comforted by certain familiar aspects of his appearance, such as his golden brown eyes that glistened like stars, his long curly hair with its comforting strawberry aroma, and his signature checkered scarf that he had been consistently wearing for almost decade now… but what really excited me were those new features. Normally I am turned off by change, but I was positively breathless as soon as my eyes wandered to the golden butterfly tattoo on his exposed shoulder. I felt as if I was going to faint for a second time in one day. 

I couldn’t find the words to express the depths of my emotion no matter how hard I searched my impassioned soul... there were no words strong enough. Instead I just cried, and wordlessly he accepted me into his arms… just like he had on that life-changing night all those years ago. I finally told him everything I had so obstinately refused to say during college… that I was gay, that I was in love with him, and that I was sorry. Although I was openly weeping, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relieved in my life.

Eventually, he managed to pacify me… and so I was able to explain to him the entire story of the Kristahlia drama. It was difficult to explain that I had managed to go from discoursing with these teenage kinnies to adopting them, but he was as understanding as he ever was. He was so excited to meet my family that he even brought his cat Apple all the way from Michigan just to introduce her to them. I don’t think I have ever mentioned this publicly, but when Krissy died I had to take her dog Diogenes in myself, and I was surprised to find that the two animals got along perfectly. It really did feel like the entire house was accepting him... it was as if this was meant to be.

Since Anton had gone to all the trouble of making the ten hour drive to Iowa, he suggested that we might as well all hang out together in Cedar Rapids over the weekend. I suppose it’s a date... I must say that I am looking forward to it, as are the others. I know I didn’t deserve to be accepted by him again just because I spent a few hours shedding tears and profusely apologizing, but for once I don’t feel guilty that I have received something I don’t deserve. I just feel... an overwhelming gratitude for the opportunity.

I am certainly still inexperienced at this whole family business and have accepted that I will inevitably make some mistakes in the future, but I don’t think I’ve done too poorly for a first week, if I do say so myself. I am truly grateful to all the people in my life who have supported me through my journey, who have taught me that it is possible to rely on others without being a parasite and to be relied on without shouldering the entire burden. 

To my partners, my friends, my children, and my love... from the bottom of my heart, thank you. 

[oikawatower]

1 ❧ loverboy! | s. hinata

━━☆⌒*. you search your school for potential candidates for your project, ‘operation: what is love?’ only to be accused of being shoyo hinata’s secret admirer.

ミ✭ first chapter is up ! i’m excited for what’s to come and the amount of effort i’m putting into this is astonishing since i barely do anything. i want to apologize since i feel like i could’ve done better and the ending seems pretty rushed :( n e ways, don’t be afraid to send in requests !! i have like eight drafts but i’m in no rush to finish them :) tysm for reading and pls wait for ch. 2 !

▂✫⌒*･ﾟ taglist — @sugaanoya , @daicasteri

・‥━☆ chap. one | masterpost | chap. two

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

LOVE is one of the most intense emotions known to human beings. It’s whole concept revolved around being validated by someone else, overcoming doubts of lovability, and soothing loneliness.

At least, that’s what you understood from binging an unhealthy amount of romance movies and reading novels about it. You couldn’t imagine yourself in a relationship, the only thing close to you expressing affection to others was towards your favorite characters in tv shows.

How were you ever going to fully experience an emotion like love?

The question lingered in the back of your brain, its presence annoying you and had you drowning in aggravation. You had to do something about it! The desperation made your stomach twist in the most unsettling way and you’d do anything to get rid of it.

“Why don’t you make it a little experiment of yours?” Your friend, Suzume, asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Make it a fun project! Find yourself a loverboy, fall in love with him or make him fall in love with you, you know, like in those movies you’re always watching!”

You took in what she said. It was similar to the clichés that movies always followed, but wasn’t it a little far-fetched? You can’t force someone to fall in love with you or vice versa. It only happened in movies and novels because they’re fiction. Complete, utter fiction that made you writhe with jealousy.

So, why on earth were you placing a “love letter” on your classmate’s desk? You didn’t know him that well, only being able to catch his name (which was ‘Hideki’) because you were paired up for a discussion. You placed the pink letter on the desk and walked back to your seat in the back of the class. You wiggled uncomfortably as Suzume sat down in front of you, “Did you find loverboy?”

You smiled, “Yeah, I think I did!” You nodded over to where the letter was placed, Suzume following your gaze.

“No way! You chose Sho-” You shushed your friend as Hideki walked into the classroom. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he walked to his desk.

Wait, wait! What!

Your heart dropped into your stomach and your breathe hitched as you watched Hideki pass the pink letter. You brought your hand to your mouth as you sat stunned in your seat. If Hideki didn’t sit there, then who did?

You hear a “Wow!” erupt in the classroom, already knowing it was caused from the letter and too embarrassed to face who made the noise. Suzume turned to look at you with the biggest grin on her face.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a thing for Shoyo Hinata?” Suzume whispered.

Hinata? The desk belonged to the short, volleyball-obsessed tangerine-head? You were so living in a movie right now. Of course, you placed the damn letter on the wrong desk! It felt too perfect and too easy.

Turning your head to look at Hinata, whose face was as red as yours because no one had ever written him a confession letter before, you notice how his eyes sparkled with joy. Should you tell him? Should you break his heart into two, watch those sparkles dim, and tell him the letter wasn’t meant for him? It’s not like you signed your name to it but knowing your luck, you’d have to tell him that you wrote the letter sooner or later.

“It wasn’t meant for Hinata! It was for Hideki!” You exasperated to Suzume as you let your head fall onto your desk. You felt Suzume’s hand rub your head as she giggled at your mistake. You were ready to run out of the classroom and cry about how nothing ever goes your way. You felt more desperate than before, your one chance to find out what love is and it’s the wrong boy!

You hear Suzume’s giggles quiet down and she offered, “Head down to the volleyball court after school and tell him there!”

You supposed it was the best thing you could do. Confront Hinata and tell him that you didn’t write the letter specifically for him, which heavily weighed on your shoulders like a burden.

I’ll tell him after school.

✧༺ ༻∞

You stood outside Karasuno’s volleyball gymnasium. The nerves in your stomach never wavering and your hands fidgeting with the hem of your uniform’s skirt. You suck in a deep breath as you stepped up to slide the door open, the smell of sweat, freshly cleaned floors, and athletic ambition wafted into your face. The noises of balls being hit, shoes squeaking against the hardwood floors, and men yelling filled your ears and drowned out your anxious thoughts.

You obviously didn’t think the rest of the plan through as you stood at the entrance awkwardly. One by one, the boys and their two female managers noticed you. Hinata perked up at the sight of you since you were his classmate, it made it a little easier for you to not call him out in front of his teammates.

“(Y/N)! Do you need something?” Hinata walked up to you.

Hm, I could’ve sworn I was taller than him.

“Uhm, I need to tell you something and it’s really important so—” You were interrupted by a smaller boy whose hair had a small part of it bleached.

“Shoyo! Is she your secret admirer? The girl who wrote the letter to you!” He jumped as the others gathered in a circle. This is what you least needed, you did not want to be peer pressured into admitting that you were Hinata’s secret admirer.

“Her? She’s too pretty to be Hinata’s admirer.”

Hinata’s face began to blush at the mention of his secret admirer. He flailed his hands around in embarrassment and couldn’t look you in the eyes.

He’s kind of cute.

Hinata wasn’t the first choice. He wasn’t academically smart like Hideki, but neither was anyone else in your class. Hinata had an overwhelming passion for volleyball like Kageyama, which explains why he never stopped talking about either one. Hinata was everything a ‘good boyfriend’ was, but then again who were you to judge? Why were you so against asking him to help you fall in love if he was a perfect contestant?

He’s perfect!

With lightning speed, you made up your mind because no matter what, you were going to experience love. No matter how hard it’s going to be, you are going to fall in love with Hinata. You want this to be the best thing to have ever happened to you!

“Yeah, I am Shoyo Hinata’s secret admirer!”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

[officialleehadan]

Bone Bars

Hello darlings! I hope you're having a good week so far. I certainly am! If you haven't noticed, the very first chapter of black Lenz posted today! Buckle up, it's gonna be a wild ride!

Today's story was brought to you by Larry! Thank you so much for all your support! It means the world to me!

Prompt: HGE - Mismatched

+++  

Magic, thick as paint, streamed over Xaenxa’s skin. White, crackling into metallic black lightning that raced along the blood-soaked chains. Wherever her lightning touched, the chains washed out and splintered, turning from metal to sun-bleached bone.

Brandon swore and pulled his gun even as the necromancers turned upwards. He was too far to hear their words, but the sight of red-black magic on their hands was warning enough. He opened fire even as he and Thori circled the upper story. There were stairs on the far side of the room. 

Xaenxa, of course, had no such concerns.

Three men died before she hit the ground below the cage, which was already starting to fall, no longer supported by chains that were cracking apart under Xaenxa’s potent magic. As she rolled to her feet, hands wet to the elbow with her magic, the blood around her rose as well, coating the bones that surrounded the alter. 

The skeletons, one by one, began to Rise. Metallic black magic wrapped around them and left them in armor, split down the middle, white on one side, and black on the other. 

“Oh they are very, very screwed,” Thori muttered to Brandon as they ran down the stairs, stopping only when acolytes tried to get between them and the growing massacre at the altar. “You see the cage? Thought I heard it fall.”

The compound shuddered.

Xaenxa screamed.

So did a lot of necromancers.

Brandon seriously doubted she needed their help.

“It did,” he replied, and didn’t break his run as another acolyte, and how many acolytes were there, anyway? He and Thori already killed a dozen or more, and they just kept coming. “Five-o-clock from the alter.”

“Glad you were paying attention.”

“You had like, four guys to worry about at the time.”

“Valid.”

By the time they made it to the bottom floor and the alter, Rhys was Burning again, but Xaenxa’s skeleton warriors were ripping the alter apart to build a barricade. Xaenxa herself was at the cage, magic creeping through the bars. Like the chains, the bars slowly turned from metal to bone, and she staggered. Brandon risked the very decent chance of being stabbed to steady her. To his surprise, she let him keep her upright, and even slipped her goddess-blade back into the sheath on her thigh. 

“Thori,” she said tiredly, leaning on Brandon more heavily than she probably wanted him to realize. Spending so much magic all at once had a cost “The bars.”

“On it,” Thori promised, and raised his axe meaningfully. “Will they break?”

“Yes.”

Without another word, the half-dwarf put all his considerable strength behind a powerful overhand swing that brought his axe down on the bars like a thunderbolt. They cracked under his blow, and he hit them twice more before slinging his axe over his back as he wrenched the spikes away from Rhys. Brandon made sure Xaenxa was steady on her feet, and went to help. By the time he got there, Rhys had managed to take a human body again, and lay in the wreckage of the cage, gasping for breath. Brandon and Thori knelt and got his arms over their shoulders and he still staggered when they got him standing. 

“Krovavaya Luna,” he whispered when his eyes landed on Xaenxa. She made a small, angry noise, and Brandon was just fast enough to get out of her way as she flung herself at Rhys. He freed an arm to catch her and held her close. They would have toppled over into the wreckage of the cage, but Thori managed to brace them both, and rolled his eyes at Brandon. “You shouldn’t have come for me. It’s a trap.”

“We figured,” Brandon promised him. Xaenxa showed no sign of letting go of Rhys any time soon, so Brandon pulled his gun again and moved to the front of their group. “We didn’t come in the front door.”

“You know how we operate,” Thori agreed, cheerful despite their ghoulish surroundings now that they had retrieved their teammate. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of this nightmare before Blaec gets antsy.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Rhys managed a weary, pained smile. He wasn’t injured, but Burning over and over had taken a toll. Between Xaenxa and Thori, he was walking, and that would be enough to get him back to camp. “There’s a phylactery under the alter. They were siphoning my death-energy for the Horde.”

“It’s shielded,” Xaenxa told him as they made their way up the stairs. She snapped a word in Elvish, and her skeletons stayed behind, armed form the fallen acolytes and waiting for whoever came through the door next. “They’ll buy us time. I couldn’t get to it. Not in the time we have.”

“We’ll tell Blaec when we get out,” Brandon promised. He held the door for them, and heard the one down by the alter crash inward. Someone had noticed their presence and taken exception to the locked door. Screams filtered upwards, and Brandon ignored them. The necromancers were, for the time being, not his problem. Their only goal right now was to get Rhys and make it back to camp. “This way.”

There were some benefits to having murdered their way into the compound, and then made a substantial fuss at the alter. Everyone left in the compound, and it sounded like a significant battle where the necromancers met Xaenxa’s Goddess-Raised warriors, was thoroughly distracted for the time being. Brandon carefully ignored the bodies they left behind on their way in, and kept his gun at the ready in case they were discovered.

For once, their luck stayed good.

By the time they made it to the darkened forest, Rhys was steady on his feet, and Xaenxa’s smile was back. 

“Last trick,” she said when they reached the wards. She reluctantly pulled away from Rhys, and pressed her hands to the ward, her Goddess’s power lighting up under her hand as it soaked into the ward like ink through clear water. “Let’s make sure they remember what happens when they step on the wrong toes.”

With that, she plunged her goddess-blade into the ward, and magic boomed through the air, howling thunder that nearly flattened their whole party. 

When Brandon looked again, the ward was gone, and their way into the forest was clear.

+++

HGE - Mismatched

What do you get when you put a dragon, his mermaid, a dark elf, a half-dwarf, and a firebird into a zombie apocalypse?

A very frustrated human, who really isn’t sure how he ended up in this situation to begin with.

Too Fast to See

Hot Desert Night (Free on Patreon!)

Dial Emergency

Death Valley Sand

The Regency

Red Scales and Golden Hair

En Route

Silver-White Knife

A Question of Faith

Coven Court

Aftermath

Under Stone

New Arrivals

Battle Lines Drawn

Deep Defense

Pineapple Box

Oncoming Tide (Subscriber Only!)

Nothing Special

Fiery Negotiation

Pearls and Claws

Fire Brought Low (Subscriber Only!)

Long Distance Call (Subscriber Only!)

Cruelty’s Kindness

Switchblade Ward (Free on Patreon)

Flying Leap (Subscriber Only!)

+++

More Stories!

+++

[traumatized-motherfuckers]

CPTSD relationship patterns on repeat

Listen wherever you stream, search “complex trauma” and subscribe. Or, find episodes, blog posts, and a private support community at t-mfrs.com

.............................................................................................................................

Things I’ve gotten good at throughout this Trauma journey:

Seeing connections between where I’m from and where I am

Thinking for the first time about where I’m going

Letting myself have emotions

Letting those emotions go

Redirecting my energy and attention away from ruminating

Being accountable for my own feelings

Being accountable for times of being a shithead

Listening and validating other humans

Listening and validating myself

Recognizing what circumstances do/don’t work for me

Realizing how my codependency plays with relationships

Letting go of self-hate inner critic talk

Reframing events with reasonable views

Accepting myself, even when I first want to thrash myself

Semi-consistently caring for myself

Setting realistic boundaries and goals

Sleeping

Things I’m still shitty at:

Letting my overwhelm skew reality

Anxious self-slave-driving

Being a snarky turd when my head is overloaded

Taking on other people’s energies and emotions

Trusting myself in all areas of life

Forming healthy relationships.

Okay, it’s that last one that has me most perpetually fighting feelings of panic and doom.

This seems like an apt way to kick off the new year. I think a lot of us have questions about relationships and would like to improve our operations in 2021. I can also tell you, this one is extremely appropriate looking back at the last year of my life.

One of the biggest lessons I've learned in the past few spins around the sun has been how romance does - and definitely doesn't - fit into my life. I think 2020 was particularly packed full of important lectures and pop quizzes, many of which I failed. It felt like knowing that the correct answer was C, but finding my hand filling in the circle for A every time, anyways.

This is a terrible ideaaaa... and I'm doing it. Pause for about 2 months. Now I'm upset that it was a terrible idea.

Yeah, it's been great. But I have no one to blame but myself. Because as much as I've worked on this trauma management life of mine, I haven't done a good job of working on the relationship aspect of it. I've let my usual patterns dominate. And that's what needs to be examined today.

I mean. Can someone tell me about healthy relationships in functional terms? What IS that even?

Look, I’m not hoping that someone will pop up and share some, “mutual respect, good communication, trust, support, care, similar goals, similar beliefs…” sort of shit. I fucking KNOW about the idealistic, flowery terms that all the light-hearted couples counselors recommend establishing for a happy relationship. I get it.

I’m not ignorant when it comes to the ways humans should interact. I’ve had enough experience with friendships and relationships, alike, to understand the basics of person-to-person interactions. I know I talk about myself like I’ve been a feral child locked in a cage for 20 years, but the truth is that if you met me on the streets I’d probably seem like a normal, well-adapted, personable human being. That Leo Ascendant component of my personality tricks people into actually thinking I’m an extrovert who wants attention. (Hilarious, explains a lot of comments I’ve gotten in my past)

Nah, I’m not asking for the trite descriptions of a healthy partnership that everyone who’s ever been friends on a basic girl’s Facebook has seen before in cursive writing on top of a washed-out pink-tinted field. Those are empty sounding words that I don’t believe most couples manage to put into action, no matter how many selfies they take together or labradoodles they adopt.

For me, Fuckers, the mystery isn’t, “in a fairytale world, how do two humans interact to have a lifelong bliss factory?” Respect, trust, appreciation, mutual understanding… blah blah blah. What the fuck ever.

The real question is how.

And, shit, let me just be honest with all of you - not just the Patrons who’ve already heard my personal bitching - it’s on my mind because I did a thing I definitely should not have… recently, I got into a new romantic relationship that I definitely was not looking for. I’ll spare you all the details today, but know that I’ve entered it kicking and screaming, and it’s caused me a lot of grief already.

Let the life shittery begin! Can’t wait to be destroyed.

Today, I want to bring this personal fire burning in my gut into the podcast. Motherfuck me, if it hasn’t become difficult to ignore… plus, I know that a lot of us Traumatized folks are in a similar boat when it comes to relationship confusion, unhealth, and destruction. So let’s just count the ways that I have no idea how to do this right and I’m destined to be let down by my poor choices.

This time around, I'm bringing you a list of all the ways I tend to fuck things up with other humans. In part, due to Complex Trauma. In other part, probably due to my own personal shortcomings. Listed in no particular order. On a later date, I'm going to be revisiting a lot of these patterns as I examine how early life set a lot of us up for a lot of abuse acceptance in greater detail. Stick around for those continuations on romantic disaster, if this sounds like you, too.

I'm talking about:

Partner choice: Musicians, narcissists, and addicts

Emotional codependency

Mistrust

… That turns into willful blind belief of their words

Inadequacy

Parenting analogues

Authority figures & disappointment

Misdirected commitment

Learned helplessness

Partner choice: Musicians, narcissists and addicts

Who has bad taste in partners? Over and over and over again? It’s me! And probably a lot of you.

Maybe that’s not fair. Maybe they’ve been wonderful guys who just didn’t mesh well with my inner or outer world… but I can tell you, there have been some similarities, and they don’t bode well for a happy future together.

You know me by now. Difficulty connecting with “normal” humans, no interest in small talk, a huge fan of deep emotional honesty, a bit gritty and assholeish, tends to be repelled by anything too widely embraced by the general public, definitely comes with a difficult past, fears of the future, and ongoing challenges in the present.

So, who do you think I get along with? Ivy leaguers with stable, supportive families, an optimistic outlook, and a 20-year plan? Or equally messy and complex humans with a set of neuroses handed down from their unexamined early traumas that make them similarly bitter and disillusioned with life? Just… probably hidden from immediate sight.

Grown men who’ve responsibly built a life for themselves with ambition, personal insight, and balance? Or man-children who’re still figuring out that they can’t drink every night of the week if they want to be functional in life and financially sound? But... with their addictions hidden behind “an appreciation for fine whiskies” or a necessity to sample the craft beer they brew.

Independent, confident humans who have no problem running their own world like a boss and trust that I’m capable of doing the same, with integrity and respect? Or distrustful turds who need me to be in their sight, half-directing their lives at all times unless I’m aiming to be accused of cheating, lying, and being unable to care for myself? Only… they hide their controlling and aggressive tendencies behind go-with-the-flow facades in the beginning.

If you guessed “B” in all three examples, you are correct!

Plus... so, so many musicians. Like, the last 6 of them have either subscribed to guitar or drum camp. And that hasn't been a purposeful decision - those are just the men I get along with until we hate each other.

It's always a rapid connection, a mutual respect for our interests in the arts, and a shared shitty attitude that starts out directed at the world and ends directed at each other. So many emotions. So many ups and downs. So many proclamations of "I can't live without you!" until the day we run in opposite directions and never look back.

Is that a coincidence? Or are all musical folk a bit wild? I hate to generalize, but I can tell you with great amusement that if you start typing "Are all musicians..." into Google, it will autocomplete with "cheaters, narcissists, and crazy." It also suggests "rich," but I can tell you for a fact that isn't true. The narcissist thing... uh.... very well might be correct. But I'll leave that for someone else to study.

So, I don't know what to make of this trend. There do seem to be some commonalities between the musicians in my past life - and they do seem to be categorized by the instrument of choice. For instance, drummers are never concerned with my time, and guitarists are emotional catastrophes. But what do I know? Can't make sweeping conclusions... I, at least, need a larger sample size. With my track record, I'm sure I'll have the numbers soon enough.

Congratulations if you predicted nothing but unstable disasters in my past. It's true, I’m an idiot. Okay, that’s not fair. No inner critic talk. Get out of here, Pam and Karen.

The fact of the matter is, I am a terrible judge of character when I start sensing a connection. I tend to connect with people who have complicated lives and inner worlds, just like I do. And from what I can tell, that is always my downfall.

Challenging connections

Let’s go ahead and chalk this one up to never having close connections or support growing up.

You know what I always wanted, hoped for, and idealized as a kid? Someone loving me. Another human actually understanding my weirdness and signing on for more. The idea of a human who wanted to know what I thought and felt. The option of spending time with someone and feeling cared for. Also, somebody finding me attractive, instead of being repulsed by my ass-length ginger hair, flat chest, dorky hand-me-downs, bleach-stained horse sweaters, and buck teeth... also would have been a dream come true.

I’m pretty sure that growing up lonely didn’t help me in any regard when it came to my later-in-life relationship problems. Starving for connection apparently puts you in a state of deprivation, where you’re likely to think anything is better than the empty feeling inside. You know, just for the rest of your life or so.

To this day, if I meet someone and we’re able to converse without abundant clarifications or apologies for the prickly things that come out of my mouth as dry humor or unbendable opinions… we’re on a roll. If we can connect over shared perspectives on humans, life, and psychology… things are getting more serious. If we can honestly talk about the ways we’re horrible to ourselves and joke about our shared challenges in figuring out what the point of this shitty slip-and-slide of life is about… uh oh, this might be a real connection.

And so, it makes sense that I connect with all the most complicated people you’d ever meet. And we connect INTENSELY. I’m complicated, myself, and I look for folks who can accept it without their heads exploding. I’m never going to be happy holding conversations with Sports Bar Joe or Pretty Boy Blaine. They’re never going to understand the internal strife that dominates my world. I’m never going to understand how they can be all *happy,* *close with their families,* and *laid back about life.*

Gross. I can’t even say the words.

But give me the angstiest, most anxious, most misunderstood dude on the block, and we’re likely to get along swimmingly. We’ll talk over beers until the birds start to chirp. We’ll joke in our native tongues, playing with words, obscure references, and dry humor as if we’ve known each other for 25 years. We’ll share secrets about our tumultuous inner worlds and the ways that we can’t seem to get our heads on straight enough to keep our ships on course.

And the next thing you know, we’ll be incestuously connected with a somewhat false sense of intimacy that erupts out of the gates. “No one has ever understood me the way you do. I can really be myself around you. I’ve never had such easy conversations about this shit before.”

… That’s about the point when I lose all perspective. There’s a tunnel running from my face to this dude’s heart. I stop seeing things for what they are. I project a kinder, gentler, more well-intended personality on the subject of my feels. I quickly turn a blind eye to all the shit they’re doing that I wholeheartedly hate or otherwise cause my red flags to be unpacked.

I feel like I know them, inside and out. I feel like I can help them - like we can help each other - to sort through this dumb world we’ve been born into and all the circumstances holding us back. A real Sid and Nancy storyline emerges. No one gets him like I do. If only they could see the things I see. We’re just two broken souls who found each other, a little rough around the edges, but we see the diamonds underneath. And we’re in this battle together from now on.

Yeah, right.

Sooooo… This is how I wind up with the unpredictable narcissists who seem like nice guys, the secret addicts who keep their substance abuse hidden from everyone, and the emotional abusers who are ready to leverage my mental health admissions against me the first time they get the chance. Dudes who have highly emotional worlds and no idea how to deal with them. Men who don’t want to explore their own shortcomings and instead choose avoidant courses in life.

And, again, the musicians. So, so many musicians. I really am coming to think that they’re the most fucked up people of all - and that's saying a lot coming from me. Generally speaking, I've seen that there’s no sense of personal responsibility, an obsession with themselves, and a hidden inferiority complex that turns them into bitchy little dogs when they feel threatened. What’s with that, anyways? Can you guys try to be more original in your plight to be the most original?

Okay, anyways. Sorry to keep dragging on musicians.

The point is, my attempts at relationships start out on the wrong foot. Choosing the wrong partner is a pretty surefire way to dash all hopes for those fluffy ideals I mentioned earlier. No one is going to respect me, listen to me, or support me when they’re too busy dealing with their own alcoholism, abandonment issues, and narcissistic flailings… or, not dealing with them, to be more specific.

We aren’t going to be able to work through things when they’re consumed with being the king of the world, hiding from all negative emotions, and trying to keep their head away from analysing their own actions. Hell, it’ll be difficult to even find the time for serious talks, since they’re so busy traveling to band practices, hustling away for barely-paying gigs, and staring at their social media while they count the ways they’re victims of the universe.

Choose imbalanced, mentally ill, self-serving partners… get unhealthy, controlling, unpredictable relationships. Pretty goddamn obvious. And yet, I still can never seem to see the full picture of the human who’s caught my attention through the fog that’s created by the connection of our shared dysfunctions.

I guess this is where that, “love yourself and get yourself healthy first,” sentiment comes into play, so the connections don’t continue to be as disasterious as your personal experience is. Hopefully I’m on the right path in my own journey, at least. Also, a lot less starved for connection. I got y’all Motherfuckers in the Discord community, for starters. And I’ve become determined to live a life where I support myself and rely on no one outside of Archie’s snuggles, for finishers.

Step one: Be careful about who you deem a good person, just because you can share self-deprecating jokes about being nutjobs and similar musical interests. Learn to choose someone who isn’t an even trashier trash human than you are. It’s a start.

Emotional codependency

Hand in hand with forming connections that include deep emotional outpourings and admissions of all the dark things we hide from the light at our office jobs… comes codependency.

I’ve said it before and let me say it again… I didn’t understand codependency until very recently.

In my mind, it was akin to those creepy couples who won’t leave the house without each other, have the same friends, interests, and opinions on everything... and possibly wear matching cat shirts. Those people who never spend time with other humans because they're too busy being shoved up their partner’s ass. The folks who call to check in on each other throughout the day when they’re at work. Gag. Particularly, I imagined those pathetic girls who cry when their boyfriend is out of sight and post 12 pictures a day of them together.

Rightfully, I scoffed and insisted that I didn't have problems with codependency. That’s not me. But it turns out, this view isn’t quite right, so much as I was being an uninformed asshole.

Codependency doesn’t mean you’re a needy, incapable human being who sucks the life power out of someone else, like I used to think. Codependency is a two-way relationship defined by poor boundaries and non-existent emotional regulation. Two humans who see their experiences as one, all the way down to how they feel and how they deal with how they feel. (i.e. turning to their significant other for comfort and emotional control in a time of need instead of working through it by themselves). Relationships where the emotions are transferred from party to party until it's unclear who’s bringing what dish to the gathering. Waking up not knowing how your day is going to be, because it depends on how someone else feels about theirs. Emotional enablement city.

Oh, yeah, when you put it like that, I definitely have issues with codependency.

For me, the codependency is largely going to be emotional. In the past, I didn’t know how to have a relationship of any sort without having a third influence in the mix. There was the person, myself, and our shared emotions... that often called more shots than either of us did.

Because I tend to be on the empath scale (although I do everything I can to fight it out of defense), I think I’m naturally tuned into other people’s emotional and energetic states, for better or for worse. When someone walks into the room with a bad vibe, I feel it to my core. I become so uncomfortable that I take it on myself to try to “fix” the problem for them, and in doing so, I avoid the negative sensation, myself. This is negative reinforcement, if anyone wanted to ABA with me.

That being said, clearly if my boo is having a hard time… it’s not okay. They’re in a shit place and therefore so am I. I must do whatever I can to make it better. To sit down and talk in circles with them, if that’s what relieves some of their tension. To commiserate about how unfair the circumstances are. To validate the negativity that they’re projecting and wallowing in.

Don’t worry though, this goes the other way, too. In the past, I have fully expected my romantic partners to alleviate any inner discomfort that I’ve felt. If I was having a low-down day, I wanted them to cheer me up. If I was full of anxiety, I wanted them to find a way to release it. If I was frustrated with a work situation or coworker, I wanted them to be as angry and indignant as I felt.

So… I guess that doesn’t even sound too off-base to me, at least not when I’m leaning on my teenage expectations of what relationships are supposed to be. In my head, it was always completely ideal that I would wind up with someone who could essentially read my thoughts and comfort me like my family never did. I just wanted someone who would be by my side, thinking about me all the time, and working double time to make sure I was keeping my depression and anxiety on the up-and-up. Is that too much to ask? Uh… yeah, it is.

Maybe in a fairytale love story like the ones I saw in teenage romance movies growing up, this is the perfect way for two broken misfits to interact. “We’re both so damaged and hurt that no one has ever really seen us - but now we have each other to lick our shared wounds.” Yeah, romantic. Also really fucked up and dangerous in the real world.

The problem is, after a few months of this, it gets pretty hard to determine what’s my experience and what’s yours. The emotions become so transitive that it can be invigorating, immersive, overwhelming, and exhausting to be in each other’s company, depending on the day and the event. Living together or essentially sharing a residence makes it much worse - there’s no physical barrier between us, so that emotional barrier is even less existent. We don't have to try to text about our woes, we can just unleash them the moment we step foot in the door. Ready or not, your night is about to be ruined by my day, and vice-versa.

How does this go wrong? Uh, let’s count the ways.

1. My emotional management was never up to par, in the first place. Having your feelings catapulted my way effectively pushes me off the balance beam that I was already wobbling on. If I was having a difficult day but holding it together on my own through coping techniques and reasonable thinking - fucking forget it, that’s over now. We’re both in a shitty state now. Great. In the context of trying to recover from mental health issues… yeah, it’s a fucking disaster. Being retriggered by your partner or sucked into a depressive undertow when you’re trying to make positive change is a losing battle.

2. I never learned how to cope with my own emotions. There was generally someone else for me to hurtle them at, and our subsequent hours of bitching would give me the comfort I was looking for. I didn’t need to learn to manage my feelings - I always had a glorified babysitter to keep me alive. I never had to be accountable for my inner world. I never had to look at things with logic or reason. I could let myself spiral and trust that my best friend or boyfriend would catch me before I slipped down the drain.

3. It becomes impossible to talk about issues - personal or shared. When you’re already sharing emotions there’s an explosive effect when conflict is brought up. Neither one of us knows how to handle our shit, we expect the other person to hold us up with kid gloves, annnd now that person is the source of my distress? We’re both completely beside ourselves, upset, hurt, and angry… and it’s towards each other? Now who the fuck do we call? There's a huge sense of confusion and betrayal. No one has the skills to de-escalate the argument or return to a normal emotional state.

4. How do you break up when half of your existence is in the body of another human? You can’t mentally or emotionally separate yourself from them. Physically separating yourself feels like ripping out a few of your organs and leaving them on the streets. And, who’s going to keep you afloat when you’re going through the pain of the break up? That’s the job of your partner, afterall… can’t have a vacant desk sitting here. It’s best to just suck it up and stick with it. No one would understand what you’ve both been through together, anyways.

In a word, that’s codependency.

Not what people think it is. Not what our culture describes it as. Not so easy to spot until you’re educated and honest with yourself… plus, probably viewing things through the lenses of hindsight.

Definitely a sneaky recipe for disaster when you let it take over a well-intended, emotionally transparent, highly connective relationship. And, Motherfuckers, I’ve always tended to.

 Head to t-mfrs.com for more!

[lionheartslowstart]

The Joy of Gender

So, I’ve been documenting my gender journey here, and every time I think there’s nothing more I could possibly write about, I discover something new. For the past few weeks, I’d been experiencing a lot of gender dysphoria, which is not something I experience very often at all. The source? My hair. This surprised me. Any time in the past I have ever felt dysphoric has usually been because of my breasts, which are pretty large and can be quite cumbersome when I’m feeling masculine. But no, this time my hair was causing the trouble. For the first time in my life, I hated how long it was. I was constantly wearing it up, more for comfort than anything else. I’m sure it didn’t help that it was fairly damaged from all the dyeing over the years, and then bleaching to attempt to get back to my natural color. It was also still a pinky-orange, remnants of the ginger-red it had been for the previous year. I figured at the very least, cutting it all off would enable my hair to start from scratch, and to continue growing in healthy, wavy, and its natural color. But there was also a part of me that knew that, perhaps even more importantly, cutting it would alleviate the dysphoria.

So, I cut it. It took me a while to build up the courage, largely because I'm afraid men won’t find me attractive anymore (the patriarchy is a bitch), but eventually I gave into the impulse, as I knew I inevitably would. And boy oh boy (no pun intended) have I discovered something wonderful. I feel more free to experiment with my gender expression than I have in the past. This was something I suspected I would feel before I cut my hair, but really feeling it in the moment was delicious. I only cut my hair yesterday, so I have yet to go for a super feminine look. I must admit, I am a little nervous. I hope I’ll be able to maintain the softness, femininity, and allure that I was able to achieve with my long hair. My friends and family, thus far, have assured me they believe I will, that I look “beautiful” with my new, short hair. We shall see. But that’s not what this entry is about.

I am not exaggerating when I say that today was the most euphoric I have ever felt as a masculine gender-fluid person. I decided to go full hog, something I have been dying to do for many months. I only wore jeans, my black Timbs, a plain white shirt, and a brand new black vest I was very excited to debut over the shirt. I put some gel in my hair and styled the shit out of it. As a finishing touch, I threw on some bracelets. Simple, but effective. I looked in the mirror and broke into a wide grin. Staring back at me was a Sophie I had not yet seen. A version of me that has always been inside, but had not, until that point, had his day in the sun.

I went grocery shopping, because I needed to be seen in public. I needed to share this momentous occasion. I needed to truly debut this new-old side of myself. I took a million pictures today. I felt inspired at the end of the night and put some eyeliner on (I have an aesthetic) and L O V E D how it looked. I took more pictures. I got a handful of compliments that filled my heart with joy and validation.

But the biggest realization of all came as I drove home from the grocery store. Being gender-fluid is FUN. Perhaps it took me so long to realize it because I’ve never been able to fully express my entire spectrum of genders before. On days like today, I feel masculine, tough, butch as hell, grungy. And now I get to express that in a way that’s genuine and all-encompassing. But on another day, maybe even tomorrow for all I know, I’ll feel feminine, flowery, seductive, soft. And on many other days, I’ll feel a combination of any of these adjectives and more, any and all genders, maybe even ones I haven’t discovered within myself yet! But that’s the beauty of it. Being gender-fluid is exciting, it never gets boring or dull, because there’s always something new to stumble upon, unearth, or even contrive! And for the first time, maybe ever, I feel like I have free range, full range, to express them all.

[ellaintrigue]

Look at me trying to catch feelings like a dumbass...

Amazingly, as much as I've been through with men, I'm still hoping to find a connection one day. For the most part I don't try too hard and enjoy talking to multiple men on sites like Badoo. It's fun and helps pass the time. So 4 days ago I matched with a guy from DC on there and he seemed hippy and artsy like me so we had a lot in common.

He was clean (no jail swag) and attractive so I felt he was a good bet even though I still love my bad boys. It isn't always about finding something wild and fun, it's about who is stable and wholesome. He said he definitely wanted to meet and I felt enthused but suggested we talk longer. He showed me his dog, we talked about the current global situation, hobbies, interests, and he told me what he did for work (bakery) and I told him I was doing customer service and striving for more. Then it felt like he slapped me across the face.

The first time a man slapped me across the face I was shocked, humiliated, and instantly felt unsafe when I had felt safe a moment ago. It's not a good feeling. Fortunately no one hit me this time but my new crush had work suggestions for me after I said I was trying to rebuild my career life: "you should be a cam girl, you have the looks for it, or find other ways to sell yourself!!"

In that moment, I felt hurt. I felt degraded. And every time a man does something to make me lose my trust it feels like it piles onto the ghosting, stealing, leading on, emotional betrayal, stalking, and assault that so many others have put me through. Which is a fucked up feeling that I could probably only get past with like 50 years of counseling.

"But you support the adult industry already," said one of my friends when I told him. Yes, of course I do. There are plenty of college girls doing camming and stripping to make money. There are interactions where women get paid for sex and no one gets hurt. But it isn't for me. And the problem is that this guy isn't the first dude to say this stupid shit to me!

I don't want men to give me money, I don't beg for help, and I don't come off desperate for work or like I'm fucked up when talking to new men. People like to slut shame me for doing pinup modeling but that ain't even on dating sites. Face and body, fully clothed. There is no reason to assume I'm an exhibitionist. I even thought about my heavy makeup but even Church ladies do that shit. There's a mutual friend between my mom and one her friends on FaceBook with heavy dark eyeliner, long mascara, huge swipes of eye shadow and thick plump hot pink lips and bleach blonde hair. And she is the biggest Bible thumping bitch out there, she told me I would burn in hell for being pro-choice once (I seriously need to get paid every time a conservative wishes me harm over my opinions so I can fucking retire). No one is going to tell that woman to hook or cam, a lot of women wear makeup.

Despite all of this, when I am talking to people on social media or new men, there is a literal fucking % of folks that tell me to strip off or sell myself when I mention I'm in between careers. I don't get defensive although I know I'm done with the person in a few minutes, but I say it's not for me. Then they usually ask me why I'm not comfortable with myself or my body (I swear these guys are their own cliche). At that point I ask them if they would tell their mom, sisters, or if they have young children, their daughters, to strip or hook and they usually get mad and block me.

I asked this attractive curly-haired guy I talk to daily if he felt it was wrong for people to suggest sex work to me at random and he said, "I think it is. If you don't choose sex work on your own, you sure as shit don’t need someone to tell you to do it." That validated my feelings a little, as I asked him after the DC guy made me feel like dirt. I wasn't sitting there like "wah, why are people mean to me," but seriously, why can't people just be respectful? If a man asked me for job ideas I wouldn't tell him to clean porta potties for a living (although that is good money).

None of my cherished thuggies would tell me to go hook! That's because those guys grew up around drugs, hard lifestyles and seeing women hook out of desperation and get hurt on the street. And that's the problem with the other guys I talk to that suggest this nonsense: they lack life experience and think every girl is going to do the shit they see on Pornhub. College kids, white-collar, geeks, and the other non-streetwise yuppies are sitting there with sex floating around in their heads and saying the first thing they think to women they try to date, then wonder why women don't respect them.

Now, forget the fact I'm not interested in masturbating on camera for random strangers, let's look at the big picture. Camming may not seem very sordid but I have to look at cam girls sometimes, and also deal with prostitutes to an extent in my online dealings.

Sure, you got the hot 20 year old college chick on cam sites but then you got a 50 year old woman the next screen over. She is pretty yet haggard and sits there fingering herself for... hours. Camming is generally low paying and the men are incredibly rude. So this woman sits there literally looking bored and she's clearly dry, but she does it so she can get a check. There are wild chicks that like to be seen, but let's face it: a lot of women are doing it out of desperation. For every 500 gawking guys roaring "THIS IS SO HOT" are 500 women trying to make ends meet and putting on fake smiles for hornballs for a few bucks.

Then let us not ignore that a lot of people in the sex trade have low inhibitions from being sexually abused as children. It's just a theme I've been well aware of over the years. Sometimes it borders on self-destructive behavior mixed with drugs and extreme promiscuity. The jittery "whore" standing on the outside of town? Maybe her stepfather raped the fuck out of her over and over, no one did anything, and now she just feels really fucked in the head and needs an escape. Judge not.

A lot of cam girls and other digital sex industry workers are strippers and hookers, I guess that goes without saying. But it is just one more thing they're doing for their pimp. Pimps aren't always bad, you usually need one to make sure you don't get raped or beaten. Of course there are plenty that basically enslave you and will rape and beat you too.

I have had to deal with a handful of pimps in my online dealings as well. They aren't scary looking black men in fluffy purple suits, the majority are female and they are often strict people with a vibe of unpleasantness that skirt lesser regulated online adult industries. One was dealing out some shit with a vague reference to children and I ran like hell. Throughout the rural USA South there is a lot of prostitution and child exploitation.

The main theme of what I see in my digital exploring is a fuckton of porn. Many a pretty blonde, of course, but then we go right back to women down on their luck. There are tons of scars and I can't tell if they are from childbirth procedures and complications or worse things. One woman had a missing breast but I knew that was from cancer. Many women are 50+ with the flash of a shitty camera giving them eerie red eyes and so many look sad.

Everyone is horny and wants to have fun in this life, it's human nature and something I as well crave. But it will be with a man that respects me, not one that tells me I should sell my vagina. And while there are women that love doing porn, getting paid for sex and showing off, there are plenty that don't. There are so many women that are desperate for money, that have been abused and don't even know what it's like to be loved, and are trapped into a vicious loop of a lifestyle that they will never escape from.

Or I can dumb it down this way: if you wouldn't masturbate online to an insulting crowd of foreign guys or allow yourself to be penetrated by multiple strangers for money then definitely don't suggest it for someone else to do.

[hungline]

under the same stars | ch 2

pairing: monsta x ot7 (jooheon x everyone)  genre: angst, fluff, smut, soulmate au, rated e  warnings: explicit sexual content, sexual innuendos, double anal penetration  words: 9822 

summary: Nothing was set in stone and soulmates were complicated, but that didn’t deter five year old Lee Jooheon from questioning the soulmate system until he met his own. 

Jooheon, with all his charms, aegyo, and dimple flashing, met his soulmates by accident.

⇢ chapter two of under the same stars 

Jooheon was only slightly surprised of just how well Hyungwon slid into their relationship.

Though what may have been even more surprising was just how easily Minhyuk let Hyungwon into their lives. Minhyuk held absolutely no malice towards Hyungwon and quickly reassured the youngest that Hyungwon being his soulmate was just fine and dandy and Minhyuk couldn’t be any happier because finally, Jooheon's tattoo was finished, the forest was complete and Jooheon didn’t have to keep constantly looking over his shoulder. His trees had finally arrived and everything was settled.

Jooheon regarded this all suspiciously and when Hyungwon left after meeting all three of his soulmates (or more specifically, after meeting Minhyuk and Hyunwoo and skyping Changkyun), Jooheon and Hyunwoo wasted no time in confronting the newly hair-bleached Minhyuk.

“What was all that about?” Jooheon asked, his arms crossed over his chest as he shot daggers towards the older man.

“What are you talking about, Joohoney?” Minhyuk asked, eyeing both men in front of him warily.

“All the ‘yes, Wonnie’ and ‘anything you want, Wonnie’ was pretty over-the-top, don’t you think?” There was something about the way that Hyunwoo’s jaw was clenched so tightly that had Jooheon sweating.

Minhyuk shot the eldest a glare before he rolled his eyes. Hyunwoo stood there silently beside Jooheon, positively fuming, before he turned on his heel, grabbed his coat, and left their shared apartment. Jooheon and Minhyuk both watched him go and when Jooheon turned back to face the blonde in front of him, he didn’t miss the feeling of worry underlying Minhyuk’s half-assed glare.

“Hyung, you hurt his feelings,” Jooheon muttered.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Jooheon sighed, running a hand over his face. “You honestly don’t get it, do you?”

Minhyuk only offered him a blank stare. The younger sighed and collapsed into the armchair that Hyungwon had occupied earlier during his visit. “Can’t you see that Hyunwoo-hyung likes you? He’s jealous and hurt, hyung. You can’t be in the same room with him without arguing and we thought it was because you resented him for being my soulmate too, that you didn’t want to share me.”

Minhyuk’s eyes were blown wide when he tried to answer, but Jooheon merely cut him off with a wave of his hand. “And now a mere stranger comes into our lives, another soulmate of mine, and you’re absolutely fine with it. You even like him and I don’t mean as friends, hyung. I mean as in you want to go on cute, amusement park dates with him and walk on the boardwalk while holding hands type like.”

“What’s your point, Jooheon?”

Jooheon bristled at Minhyuk’s tone, but answered his question anyways. “My point is, Hyunwoo-hyung is jealous because he wants you to feel like that about him too! Why do you hate him so much, hyung? Is it really because he’s so clumsy and spilling things on you all the time and ruining your clothes? You do know that I deal with that too and still love him just as much as I love you, right?”

“He’s your soulmate! Of course you love him, Joohoney,” Minhyuk groaned, his hands running through his hair. “But I don’t hate him. I’ve never hated him. He justー”

“He just what, hyung?”

“He makes me so angry!” Minhyuk shouted, his voice going shrill like it always did when he was frustrated.

Jooheon gave the older a few seconds to catch his breath before he asked in his most calming voice, “Why does he make you angry?”

“Because he isn’t mine! Don’t you see Jooheon? He’s your soulmate and so am I, but he’s not mine. Shouldn’t he be my soulmate too? So that I can just fucking love him freely without second guessing his feelings.” Minhyuk was crying by then and Jooheon had slowly crawled over to the elder who sat on the couch.

“You love Hyunwoo-hyung?” Jooheon asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he let his hands trail up and down the length of Minhyuk’s arms.

Minhyuk stared up at the younger and shot him an exasperated “duh” look. “Of course I do. Why the hell else would I put with him for so long and move into this apartment with the both of you? Joohoney, I love you both so much and I’m honestly just shit at this whole multiple soulmates thing.”

Jooheon used his thumbs to wipe most of the elder’s tears away. “That’s fine, hyung. Soulmates aren’t meant to make sense and just because hyung isn’t your soulmate too doesn’t mean that your feelings for him aren’t as valid as your feelings for me.”

“How can you be so calm about this?”

The younger laughed. “Because I’m still hoping you’ll tell me why you openly like Hyungwon so much, but can’t even look in hyung’s direction without seeing red.”

Minhyuk sighed and withdrew from the younger’s embrace. “Back in Gwangju, we were the best of friends and then we dated for a little while before I moved to Seoul. He started his modeling career soon after and then he started showing up to every one of my recitals."

“Why didn’t you mention this before, hyung?”

“I felt guilty. I didn’t know how to bring him up in a conversation without revealing that I still sort of had feelings for him and it felt like I was cheating on you in some really absurd way that didn’t make a lot of sense. So I just didn’t mention him and hoped he’d stop coming to my recitals.” The blonde man shrugged, his face still stained with dried tear tracks that flowed down his cheeks.

“Does he still come to your recitals?”

“Every single one. He hasn’t missed any of them.”

Jooheon laughed. “This must be like Christmas for you then, huh, hyung? Having your ex delivered to you on a silver platter because your boyfriend is such a soulmate slut.”

Minhyuk’s hands gripped tightly onto Jooheon’s wrists. “Don’t say that, Joohoney. You’re not a soulmate slut. You’re not a slut in any shape or form.”

“I was only kidding, hyung.”

“I know, but please don’t say things like that anymore. You having multiple people meant for you is honestly incredible. Don’t see it as something bad. It’s really not. If anything, I’m really happy that other people get to see you the same way I do, appreciate you the same way I do, love you the same way I do. You’re amazing, Joohoney. Having multiple soulmates isn’t bad or wrong because you brought all of us together and you keep us together too. That takes a lot of strength, dealing with so many people at the same time. But you manage it just fine and I’m so proud of you, Jooheon."

Jooheon blinked, a bit surprised, but then made up for it by leaning in and kissing the elder tenderly on the lips. “I promise not to joke about it again, hyung. I love you just as much, but I think there’s someone else you should probably talk to about your feelings too.”

Minhyuk sighed and nodded. “You’re right. Can you call hyung and see where he’s at, please?”

“Of course.”

When the younger finally got Hyunwoo on the phone, he realized that the snow had begun to fall heavily and tried to remember if the elder had taken gloves with him when he left earlier.

“Joohoney.”

Jooheon sighed in relief when the elder’s gruff voice greeted him after the twelfth time of trying to get a hold of him. “Hyung! Where are you? Are you alright?”

The younger put his phone on speaker and brought a finger up to his lips to signal Minhyuk about keeping quiet.

“No,” Hyunwoo responded, his voice breaking.

Minhyuk was at Jooheon’s side in a flash, his expression contorted with worry.

“Hyung, what’s wrong?” Jooheon asked.

And then the eldest sobbed into the phone and Jooheon felt his heart splutter. “Hyung?”

“Why d-doesn’t he like me, Joo-Joohoney? Do I d-disgust him? Am I that a-annoying?”

“No, hyung. You’re not annoying and Minhyuk-hyung isn’t disgusted by you. Don’t think that!”

“But it’s true!” Hyunwoo sobbed.

Jooheon shot Minhyuk a pointed look. “No, it’s not. Hyung, where are you?”

“Fountain,” came the elder’s sniffled response and Jooheon felt a hot flash of burning, white pain flare up in his chest around the area where his heart should be.

“I’ll be right there, alright, hyung?” Jooheon motioned towards the door and practically shot lasers out of his eyes when he stared at Minhyuk.

Minhyuk was already pulling his coat and gloves on when Hyunwoo answered, his voice devoid of emotion. “Okay.”

Jooheon watched the blonde leave, hoping that when he walked back through the door, his soulmate would be right behind him.

He looked down at the stag on his arm when he felt an all too familiar burn and froze because the stag had moved. Its head was down and the antlers had grown, touching the forest floor on which it stood. Jooheon smiled at the change, looking back up at the front door and hoping that his boyfriends would get back home safely.

“You’re not coming here for the uni?” Jooheon honestly wondered how he was even able to speak coherently at that moment when he could feel his heart dropping into his stomach.

“No. I’m going back to the States for school, hyung,” Changkyun’s tinny voice accompanied the pixelated image of him in a white tank top on the screen of Jooheon’s laptop.

“But, you saidーKyunnie, it’s been years. I thoughtーWhy?” Jooheon struggled to come up with complete sentences.

Changkyun sighed, the sound a bit distorted and robotic thanks to Jooheon’s shitty wifi. “Hyung, I’m more comfortable here in the States, at least school-wise. I know that if I come back to Korea and go to the uni there, I’m not going to finish getting my degree.”

“Kyunnie, Iー”

“It’s not forever. I’m going to get my bachelor’s here and then fly to you and work on my doctorate’s. My dad just has a lot of connections here in the States that are going to help me a lot in the long run.”

“But, it’s been years, Kyunnie. I haven’t seen you since you were six! And now you’re going off to the uni and I miss you like hell. Changkyun, I miss you so much.” Jooheon didn’t know when he started crying, but there was no mistaking the trail of tears that were flowing out from the corners of his eyes.

Changkyun’s voice was soft and Jooheon didn’t know if he was crying too, but the sniffling sounds that the younger was making seemed to point in that direction. “I miss you too. More than you realize, but this is about my careerーmy futureーand please understand that I have to do this, hyung. I want to do this, Joohoney.”

Even while crying, Jooheon managed to smile at the stupid nickname that he had once hated so much. “I do understand. I justーI don’t know how I’m going to survive another four years without you. It’s been so long since we played in my backyard and hell, do you remember the look on my mom’s face when you kissed me good bye?”

“Of course I do, hyung,” Changkyun was laughing and sniffling at the same time and Jooheon was only minorly concerned about how the younger’s airways were able to handle that. “It was like she’d seen God or an angel or something.”

“She was so happy… I was so happy. I was eight and you were six and we’d just found out that we were soulmates, but you kissing me felt right, Kyunnie. I-I just really miss you. Come back to me as soon as you can, yeah?” Jooheon felt dumb about crying and lifting his hand up so it looked like he was reaching out for the younger, but he smiled when Changkyun mimicked the action and smiled right back at him.

Because somewhere along the way, Jooheon and Changkyun’s friendship had turned into something else. Jooheon’s late night phone calls were Changkyun’s early morning calls. Their Skype calls were usually planned, but when they weren’t, neither of the two wasted any time in answering the other. They were there for each other. Changkyun gave his hyung advice on whatever he needed help on and Jooheon, in return, was understanding and supportive of Changkyun’s intended career in science. On those days when Minhyuk nor Hyunwoo could console him, Changkyun somehow managed. And when Hyungwon slotted himself into Jooheon’s life, Changkyun had still been there, had still been the only one who could comfort him when his other soulmates couldn’t. Changkyun had been with Jooheon the longest and somewhere along the way, Jooheon had fallen in love with his best friend.

“Four years are going to fly right by, hyung. Just you wait,” Changkyun responded, his hands wiping the tears off his cheeks and Jooheon fingers twitched.

He wished he could just pull the younger through the screen and wipe his tears for him instead.

“I love you, Kyunnie. Be good and don’t let yourself get too stressed out over school, alright?”

The younger smiled and nodded. “I won’t, hyung. I promise to take care of myself. I love you, Joohoney.”

Jooheon smiled at the ridiculous nickname again and quickly bade the younger a farewell before an all too familiar burn flared up in the crease of his elbow. He looked down at his arm and used his other hand to wipe his remaining tears away so he could see better because Jooheon had just gained another fucking soulmate. From the purple flock of birds that symbolized his platonic connection with Changkyun, one single, black bird was now flying towards the trees instead of away like the others. Jooheon didn’t know how to react, it wasn’t common for platonic soulmates to recreate themselves as romantic ones, but it had happened. Changkyun was both his platonic and romantic soulmate now. And Jooheon let out a sigh a relief he hadn’t known he’d been holding all that time. Changkyun would be back with him soon, the black bird was proof. His bird would be home and all would be well for Jooheon again.

His phone chimed and he opened the KakaoTalk message to find a photo of Changkyun’s new, identical tattoo in the group chat. Jooheon snapped a photo of his own tattoo and waited as an influx of messages came in (mostly from Hyungwon claiming they just  had to celebrate and that he knew just the place, but there was also one single selfie from Minhyuk and Hyunwoo where both of them we’re giving a thumbs up to the camera). The younger laughed at his phone and agreed to whatever ridiculous plan Hyungwon had set up, only disgruntled a teeny tiny bit when the eldest two declined and claimed they had a lot of nights spent cuddling to make up for.

Although, he did regret it a few hours later when he and Hyungwon were standing in front of a strip club.

“Whaー” the younger spluttered, his voice failing him.

“I’m going to personally throttle, be-head, and exsanguinate Kim Namjoon once I get my hands on him,” Hyungwon growled.

“You got directions to a strip club from Kim Namjoon? Are you fucking insane?”

“Listen,” Hyungwon began. “I thought he was sending us to a damn spa! Not this place!”

“How the hell did you confuse a spa for a strip club?” Jooheon shrieked.

Hyungwon sighed and ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Look, we’re here and there’s a bar inside and how about we just go in and I buy you some drinks and we ignore the men in thongs who are prancing around on stage?”

“Who’s driving us home if we’re going to drink?”

“You’re going to drink. I’m going to stay like ninety-five percent sober for the night.”

“Ninety-five percent?”

“You can’t expect me to say no to a good cup of soju.”

Jooheon sighed. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Hyungwon let out a happy-sounding chirp and took the younger’s hand. He led them inside the strip club, flashing a megawatt smile and slipping some won towards the security guard at the door to let them in. “It’ll be fun and come on, we just have to celebrate! It isn’t every day that your platonic soulmate suddenly turns into your romantic oneーtrust me, I searched it up on Naver to make sure.”

Jooheon couldn’t help laughing or quickly pulling the elder in for a kiss before Hyungwon dragged him over to the bar.

A few shots later and Jooheon was absolutely fucked. Hyungwon had had one single beer before he switched to ginger ale and kept a firm hand on Jooheon’s thigh at the bar. Plenty of strippers had approached them, but Hyungwon had batted them away with one single, piercing look and Jooheon was too out of it to even notice the dark haired man in black briefs and a ripped white T-shirt that was slowly inching his way towards the pair at the bar.

“I’m going to the bathroom!” Hyungwon shouted over the thumping music. “Don’t move a muscle!”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Jooheon yelled, drunkenly miming a salute before Hyungwon was pressing his perfect fucking lips to the younger’s and, alright, maybe Jooheon had let out a breathy, little whimper when the elder pushed in forcefully against him, but if anybody asked, he would vehemently deny that fact until the day he died.

“Be back soon,” Hyungwon spoke directly into Jooheon’s ears, the pressure of his hand on Jooheon’s thigh disappearing as he pulled away.

Jooheon watched Hyungwon leave, blinking in a daze. His drunken mind took what he hoped was fully detailed notes about the exact way that the elder’s hips swayed when he walked, then measured the exact length of Hyungwon’s long, long legs, and appreciated the slender body that helped Hyungwon be the successful model that he was. And with the success came connections. Connections that definitely would help Jooheon break into the mainstream with his music, but for the moment, he was content with the intense, underground rap battles that he absolutely conquered every other week or so.

And then all too suddenly, Jooheon felt the heat of another body beside him and slowly turned in his seat to meet the gaze of the dark-haired stripper who’d been slowly encroaching on him.

“Hello,” Jooheon’s voice was gruff and he didn’t know how he was even able to speak properly because everything was beginning to blur together and was the guy beside him gorgeous or what?

“Hi, sweetheart.” Fuck. Jooheon was so fucking fucked because the guy was shooting him a wide grin and Jooheon just wanted to lean and kiss this gorgeous random stranger on the nose and tell him how beautiful he was. “Can I talk you into a dance?”

Jooheon nodded, because fuck yeah this guy could give him a lapdance. Jooheon was way too drunk to be dealing with this type of crap and Hyungwon still hadn’t returned so the younger reasoned that he may as well enjoy himself, at least a little bit.

“No touching or my dear friend here,” the gorgeous man in the ripped shirt stuck a thumb out in the bartender’s direction who was shooting Jooheon the death glare. “Will chase you out of here at gunpoint. Got it?”

“Uh, yeah. A-Alright,” Jooheon stuttered and seriously how the hell was he even able to speak?

The world was bright, sparkly, and fucking spinning and Jooheon was about to lose his shit, but then the stripper straddled his thighs and Jooheon lost his train of thought for awhile. He most definitely had a semi in his jeans already and fuck, why had he drank so many shots? Why had Hyungwon let him drink so much? And speaking of Hyungwon, where in the fuck was Jooheon’s lousy excuse of a soulmate at and why hadn’t he came back from the bathroom yet? It didn’t take that goddamn long to take a fucking piss. And shit, how come this guy’s ass fit so fucking perfectly in Jooheon’s lap that it was downright unfair?

“Your thighs are honestly the best I’ve ever seen.”

Great, now a stripper was complimenting Jooheon on his thighs. Where the hell was Hyungwon?

Jooheon only grunted in response because Jesus fuck, the way this guy was working his hips should have been downright illegal.

Then the man reached behind him to grip onto Jooheon’s bare arms and Jooheon barely noticed the flash of light and the bang that followed. The man had gone completely still in Jooheon’s lap and Jooheon didn’t even feel the burn on his arm, but he knew what had happened. Somewhere in his fucked up state, his brain had recognized the signs and signals and gave Jooheon the simple output of it all. This stripper was another one of his soulmates and when the guy slowly raised their arms up to compare, Jooheon barely made out the moon tattooed in black ink that hovered above his forest.

“So, s-soulmate?” Jooheon slurred, his vision dizzy.

“I suppose so,” the man who sat in his lap answered, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Guess that makes five now,” Jooheon said to himself, or at least that’s what he had thought in his head and had tried to speak aloud, but had only gotten a gurgle instead.

“I leave for five minutes and you already got a stripper. Christ, Joohoney,” Hyungwon’s voice startled the younger, but the man on his lap stayed put and gripped onto Jooheon’s arm tighter to keep him in place.

Jooheon didn’t really understand what was going on in that moment, but he did make out the hand that belonged to Hyungwon as he reached out to trace the new tattoo on Jooheon’s forearm.

“Two soulmates in one day, you must be on a roll, Joohoney,” Hyungwon laughed as he moved his hand to hover over Jooheon’s new soulmate’s arm. “May I…?”

“Wonho,” Jooheon’s soulmate said, then nodded his head in response to Hyungwon’s question. “Well, actually it’s Hoseok, but Wonho is what every one calls me here andー”

But Hoseok never finished his sentence because as soon as Hyungwon had let his fingers brush against the pale skin of his forearm where the new tattoo lay, another flash of light and bang rang out around them. Jooheon was drunk out of his mind, sure, but he still felt more than saw what had happened.

“No way.” Jooheon’s vision was absolutely fucked, yet his voice still worked enough to manage muttering out his disbelief when Hoseok drew his arm away from Hyungwon’s fingers.

A thicket of trees identical to the ones that decorated Jooheon’s own arm now were inked onto Hoseok’s forearm and a moon hung over the trees on Hyungwon’s arm.

“Do you mind coming back to our apartment with us? There’s a lot we need to talk about,” Hyungwon held his hand out for Hoseok to take.

“I’d love that.” Hoseok took it without question and stood up from Jooheon’s lap, then looked towards the bartender who was shooting them concerned glares. “Tell Jae I left early. Soulmate business.”

The bartender nodded and Hoseok drew his attention back towards Hyungwon who was helping Jooheon up from his seat.

“Yeah. We would love thaー” The rest of Jooheon’s sentence was cut off when he doubled over and threw up all over the floor of the strip club that Hyungwon had mistakenly took for a spa.

He only had Kim Namjoon to thank for that.

  Thankfully, Changkyun’s gift had came just in time for Jooheon’s graduation. And though it wasn’t what the elder truly wanted (he would have preferred a lanky, shy Changkyun with a pretty red bow on top), he still appreciated the new soundboard that Changkyun and Changkyun’s father had sent.

His graduation ceremony was boring, but when he was being escorted by his four soulmates to the new penthouse apartment that Hyungwon had been trying to get them to move into for months, Jooheon felt something rise in his chest. It was an inexplicable feeling, yet something about the way that his soulmates were looking at him with pure pride in their soft gazes made him feel warm. Jooheon was on cloud nine and he couldn’t help the feeling of giddiness that was engulfing him.

It was for that reason Jooheon didn’t object to Hoseok pushing him up against a wall and pinning him there with his hips while Hyungwon got to work on shedding him of his clothes. He didn’t object to Hyunwoo marking up his throat and Minhyuk slowly scissoring him open either. It wasn’t the first time that Jooheon had had sex with any of them, but that night was the first time he’d had sex with all of them.

Though the next day his ass was particularly sore and his limbs felt unhinged, body like jelly, Jooheon still thought that waking up in the new, enormous bed beside his naked soulmates who were tangled together was something he didn’t think he would ever forget.

And then Jackson was banging on his front door, dragging Mark and Jinyoung into the penthouse after him as he made himself at home in Jooheon’s new, sparkly kitchen demanding that he and his boyfriends be fed. Life had a funny way of slapping Jooheon awake and the dreamy feeling he’d had when he woke up was gone when Jackson came yelling through his front door.

At least Hyungwon had the decency to wait a week before telling Jooheon that he’d hooked him up with an interview at a company called Starship Entertainment. Jooheon was suddenly shoved into adult life (and a nice outfit that Hyungwon had put together for him). The most embarrassing thing though was he was literally having his hand held during his first work interview (Hoseok had refused to let the younger go by himself since Minhyuk and Hyunwoo were going to be busy at Minhyuk’s new ballet studio and Hyungwon had pulled enough strings that allowed the elder to accompany Jooheon).

But the interview had gone well, better than Jooheon had even expected. Things were bustling inside the company, no one took a break. Jooheon liked that. He also liked the recording rooms he’d been shown and he also liked how welcoming the people working there were.

Though he probably liked the praise he received from a rapper with the stage name of Mad Clown even more.

“Please call me Dongrim-hyung,” the senior rapper had gushed after hopping into Jooheon’s interview when it was reaching its end.

Jooheon took the hand that Dongrim offered him and gave him a wide smile, much more relaxed now that his interview was over. “Jooheon. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, it is definitely nice to meet you! Hyungwon-ssi asked me to accompany him to one of your underground performances last month and I was amazed,” Dongrim grinned and shook Jooheon’s hand longer than was necessary. “I’m one hundred percent sure you're going to get the job and I hope you enjoy working here.”

“Thank you so much, hyung!” The younger couldn't help but grin, then quickly ushered Hoseok forward when he caught sight of the pout that his soulmate was sporting from being ignored. “This is Hoseok-hyung, by the way. He's one of my soulmates.”

Dongrim reluctantly let go of Jooheon’s hand to shake Hoseok’s instead. “Nice to meet you. You must be very proud of Jooheon-ah.”

Hoseok gave the older man a dashing smile. “Oh, we all are. I trust you to take care of our Joohoney while he works here.”

Jooheon sucked his teeth at the dumb nickname and let out a groan when Dongrim responded, “I personally will make sure that Joohoney wants for naught for while working here.”

Hoseok nodded and gave the rapper a polite smile before tugging Jooheon more firmly into his side. “We should get going. The others are waiting for us back home. They want to know how the interview went.”

“I’ll see you soon, Joohoney! It was nice meeting you in person today,” Dongrim excitedly shook Jooheon’s hand again before he turned on his heel and retreated back into his own personal studio that Jooheon had walked past during his tour of the company.

Hoseok was quick to turn to Jooheon and give him a teasing remark. “Seems like someone else is already in love with you. Whatever shall we do?”

Jooheon laughed. “Hyung, stop it. Come on, let's go home.”

Hoseok grinned, pecked Jooheon soundly on the lips then led the way down the hall. “Still, you can't deny that he's absolutely starstruck by you.”

“I think it was more of just fascination, hyung. There's really nothing that would make someone starstruck about me.”

Hoseok gave a little tsk, and Jooheon forcibly motioned towards the two people who were walking towards them. A girl with short black hair, a much too skinny frame and a wide, smitten smile directed towards the man beside her who was plainly an idol, if the way he walked like he owned the place gave anything away. He was handsome, incredibly so, and short, but Jooheon found his height endearing.

“I could imagine people being starstruck by him,” Jooheon drew Hoseok’s attention towards the pair at the end of the hall. “I mean, even that girl obviously likes him, hyung. But I'm just plain me, I'm no star and I don’t really want to be one.”

“But you're my star,” Hoseok gave the younger a tender smile. “And I'm your moon. So we're even. Now shut up and enjoy the flattery.”

Jooheon laughed, but his laugh was overridden by the shrill laughter of the girl from before who was laughing dramatically at something that the man beside her had said. They were closer to Jooheon now, almost a foot away, so when the girl playfully pushed the man with just a bit more force than was necessary, Jooheon wasn't all that surprised to have the man be shoved into him.

He was surprised, however, when his hands reached out to steady the man by his elbows, his arms bare, and a flash of light and a bang rang out between them.

Hoseok was the first to react in the stunned silence that followed. He grabbed both their arms to compare the new, matching tattoos. In Jooheon’s trees was now a nest. The man before him had a similar tattoo, but not exactly since he was missing most of the trees. He had only the surrounding area of the nest filled with leaves and treetops in the background. Hoseok smiled at the nest tattooed in black ink anyways.

“Soulmates,” he proclaimed. “When Hyunwoo-hyung told me you're prone to picking up soulmates in the strangest of places, I only half believed him, considering we met in that strip club I used to work in, but now, yeah, I can totally see what he meant.”

Jooheon’s face was blazing red. “Hyung, shut up. You'll scare him away.”

The girl who’d been walking down the hall with Jooheon’s new soulmate spoke up, and Jooheon really wished she hadn't. “Of course, he’s gay. No wonder he wouldn't catch onto any of the hints I gave.”

Hoseok and Jooheon both looked up to glare at her for the malice in her tone, but she only shrugged then continued on her way down the hall and away from the trio.

“Well now that she's gone,” Hoseok muttered under his breath before shooting a dazzling smile in the man’s direction. “I'm Hoseok, and this lovely man beside me that you’ve just intertwined your entire life with is Jooheon. Call him Joohoney though, he loves it.”

Jooheon shot him a glare. “I do not.”

“Oh, but when Changkyun calls you it, it's totally and completely fine, isn't it?”

“Shut up, hyung,” Jooheon muttered under his breath.

“What was that? I can't hear you,” Hoseok teased in a sing-song voice.

Their banter was interrupted when Jooheon’s new soulmate let out a squawk.

“Hey, he's a bird!” Hoseok exclaimed excitedly. “No wonder your tattoos are a nest. The bird needs a home.”

Jooheon didn't miss the way that Hoseok’s gaze had turned soft near the end of his sentence. “Hyung, he's my soulmate. Stop trying to make a move on him.”

“Minhyuk-ah and Hyunwoo-hyung are also your soulmates, but I don't see you complaining when I'm sucking Minhyuk’s cock and fucking Hyunwoo at the same time.”

“Hyung!”

“What? I'm just saying.”

“Oh my god.”

“You do what?” The man asked, his voice hoarse and sounding strangled.

“I suck and fuー” Hoseok began.

“He does kinky shit. Just ignore him for now,” Jooheon clamped his hand over Hoseok’s mouth. “Um, can I know what your name is?”

“Yoo Kihyun.”

“Kihyun,” Jooheon smiled, fighting to keep his hand over Hoseok’s mouth. “I'm Lee Jooheon. This is my other soulmate, Shin Hoseok. He doesn't know when to keep things to himself.”

Hoseok managed to get Jooheon’s hand away from his mouth. “On the contrary, if he's your soulmate, that means he’ll be around often, also meaning that out kinky orgies just got kinkier and bigger.”

“Hyung!”

But Kihyun only laughed and nodded his head. “He does have a point.”

“Not you too!”

The eldest laughed and threw a companionable arm over Kihyun’s shoulders. “Come on. Come back with us to our place and I’ll show you exactly what I mean.”

Kihyun gave a nervous cough and shot Jooheon with a pointed look. Jooheon was quick to dive in between the two.

“Hyung, Kihyunnie is my soulmate. You will not disturb his innocence until he is one hundred certain about it,” Jooheon stared daggers at Hoseok, then turned to look at Kihyun who was blushing a furious red at the endearing name Jooheon had just called him. “But would you mind coming back to our place? We have a lot to talk about and I'm sure the others would love to meet you.”

Kihyun gave Jooheon a dazzling smile. “I’d love that, Joohoney.”

Jooheon groaned at the old nickname.

“Jackson’s going to have a field day with this one,” Hoseok teased.

“Shut up, hyung,” Jooheon smiled and quickly gave the elder a peck on the lips before Kihyun took his hand and started to lead the way down the hall.

“I think my life just got a bit more interesting,” Kihyun shot over his shoulder.

Jooheon smiled. “I think ours did too.”

  Living with five other people might have been a burden if someone didn't have a person like Hyungwon as one of their soulmates.

Hyungwon was overly kind and generous, at least when he wasn't acting cold or aloof. Through his modeling career, he’d gained many connections and a lot of wealth. Most of the time, he never hesitated to use them. This was old news to Jooheon, but he still wondered almost daily how his life would be if he didn't have Hyungwon.

For one, he wouldn't have a bed or a living space big enough to fit all of them. His refrigerator wouldn't be chock full of food and he wouldn't have gotten his job as a producer at Starship if it hadn't been for Hyungwon either. Minhyuk and Hyunwoo wouldn't have been able to kick start Minhyuk’s ballet studio if it hadn't been for the investment from that dance company Hyungwon used to work for before becoming a model. Hoseok would still be taking night shifts at the strip club Jooheon had met him in if it wasn't for Hyungwon offering to pay for Hoseok’s classes at the uni. Kihyun would be living off ramen and other microwaveable foods instead of the fresh fruits, vegetables, and meat that Hyungwon specifically stocked their kitchen with for Kihyun alone.

Suffice to say, Hyungwon was their backbone and it was clear why he had gotten trees when Jooheon had met him. He stood firm and his connections to others help Jooheon hang on.

Then there was Hoseok, Hyungwon and Jooheon’s soulmate. He was different from Hyungwon in many ways. Jooheon liked to lean on him the most when he felt that his negative thoughts and feelings were trying to suffocate him.

Hoseok was light and airy and he never failed to shed some light on a difficult or dark situation. Jooheon liked him. He was kind. He was sweet. He was very open about his feelings, but he was overly subconscious about his body.

It took months for Hoseok to talk himself into getting a job as a stripper. He did it for the money. But he hated how he looked. He complained that he was just too big. He liked his muscles and pecs just fine, but when it came to his abdomen and his lanky limbs, Hoseok shied away from remarks made about them. It was generally why he always insisted on wearing baggy T-shirts with everything. Jooheon didn't push him about it. Everyone had things they weren't completely confident about. Hoseok’s thing just happened to be his body.

But it was fine. Jooheon and the others had made it their mission a long time ago to get Hoseok to understand how much they loved him and not his body. When the others began to make grand gestures about dwarfing their own bodies, Hoseok caught on to what they had planned and trumped them all by taking to walking around the house naked.

Afterwards, he quit his job at the strip club, not because the others had pressured him, but because he finally had the money to start his law classes at the uni.

By then it was clear that the light which Hoseok shined depended upon the light of others, like how the moon depended on the sun to shine at night.

Minhyuk was similar to Hoseok in a few ways. They were both kind and understanding and they both were skilled in dance. But by then, the similarities ended.

Jooheon’s first boyfriend was as delicate as he was sturdy. He was graceful and fought for his own. He was both socially and sexually dominant and when it came down to it, he was ready to fight whenever one of his loved ones was being threatened. Minhyuk was a force of nature and Jooheon felt very protective of him.

Minhyuk was exactly like the stag that decorated their forearms. He was strong, he defended his own, and he stood his ground, the ground being Hyunwoo.

Hyunwoo was the eldest of them all and with that title came the responsibility of taking care of them all. Everyone centered themselves around the eldest. He was calm, cool, and collected. It was this that helped him make important business decisions concerning the ballet studio that he had opened up with Minhyuk two years before.

In the years that Jooheon had known him, Hyunwoo had only cried five times. The first time when he’d broken down and begged Jooheon to fuck him senseless, the second time when Minhyuk welcomed Hyungwon with open arms, the third and fourth time when Minhyuk and Jooheon graduated and he was overwhelmed with pride, and the last time when Minhyuk had bottomed out in him for the first time, balls deep in the elder.

A lot of things didn't affect the elder emotionally, but it was because he was scared. If he broke down, everyone else would come crumbling down with him too. He couldn't afford to let his emotions run free. Hyunwoo grounded them all and without him they’d be a mess.

Kihyun, though new, was something they’d been missing. Whenever he wasn't busy with his idol duties, he was cooking dinner for six in the kitchen, he was cleaning four rooms, and he was nagging at the others like a mother telling her children to pick up after themselves.

Kihyun had been with them for over a year already and he was clearly adept for home life. Jooheon could even see the elder child rearing, but he didn't expect for Kihyun to give up being an idol any time soon. His voice was amazing, it was wonderful, it was filled with emotion and Jooheon couldn't see Kihyun having a career that didn't include singing in it. Singing was Kihyun’s life.

None of the others minded that Kihyun had a busy schedule and sometimes left the country for a few weeks at a time before coming back to them. He hadn't officially moved into the penthouse with them, but his clothes were in the large closet that took up the entire room Hyungwon had redesigned. His yellow toothbrush stood beside the other five in the main bathroom. His toiletries were hidden under the sink so Hoseok wouldn't use them while he was away (he still did). There was a pillow with a Kihyun-shaped dent in it in their massive bed. And there were three pairs of extra shoes with the initials YK on the tags right by their front door. All that stood between Kihyun officially moving in with them was bringing whatever keepsakes he had back at the dorms he shared with trainees and another solo artist to their penthouse apartment and buying a bigger table to fit them all.

Kihyun had never really had a home to begin with though. His parents had abandoned him with his abusive aunt when he was a toddler and he had run away to the companies when he was twelve. He’d been a trainee for six to seven years, jumping from company to company until he finally debuted as a solo artist with Starship. Sometimes Jooheon thought that the elder would hightail his way out of their lives because he wasn't used to being in one place for so long. But Kihyun was home. He’d fought for his own since he was young and it didn't matter where he went because Kihyun was secure in the fact that home wasn't a place. Kihyun didn't need anyone else to be his home either, he was his own home. Jooheon cried silently when Kihyun had told him of his past, but when Hoseok and Minhyuk enveloped the idol in a tight hug that resulted in the others joining in, something warm swelled in his heart.

Kihyun might have been on the move for most of his life, but when Jooheon woke up to him cooking in the kitchen or vacuuming in the spare bedroom, he couldn't help but think that domestic life suited the elder.

And Kihyun, he was home for all of them.

Which only left Changkyun, the single, tiny bird who was fighting to get home. To get back to the nest.

Jooheon had a sneaking suspicion that when Changkyun finally returned in the year to come, he and Kihyun would be soulmates as well. There was no way that Jooheon could ignore the symbolism of his tattoos, and he couldn't ignore the fact that Changkyun was a bird and Kihyun the nest. It only made sense to theorize that they would be soulmates as well.

Changkyun was flighty. He was afraid of commitment and he had told Jooheon the very same thing years ago. But before being romantic soulmates, they’d been platonic ones instead. Meaning that before anything else, Changkyun was his best friend. They had stayed together for more years than Jooheon could count, even with the thousands of miles between them. That was something that neither of the two took lightly. Somewhere along the way they’d fallen in love and Jooheon had never looked back.

But Changkyun had. He didn't know what he wanted. Jooheon had tried to help him the best he could, yet in the end, it'd been Changkyun’s father who’d set everything straight. Jooheon had been informed of Changkyun’s father talking with the younger for an entire night. When morning had come, Changkyun had called him on Skype, sleep deprived, a bit delirious, and still as handsome as ever to tell him about his plans for the uni.

Jooheon understood though and that was finally when their platonic bond turned romantic.

He was still young and he had his whole life ahead of him, but Jooheon knew that there was nobody else. There were no other soulmates. It was him, it was Changkyun, it was Minhyuk, it was Hyunwoo, it was Hyungwon, it was Hoseok, it was Kihyun, and it was all of them together. Nothing more and nothing less.

He couldn't wait until his bird came home.

  “I'm gonna miss you like hell, man,” Jooheon was sort of kind of close to tears.

Of course if Jackson asked, he would deny it like the tough guy he was, but even tough men cried and Jooheon took comfort in that fact as he let only a few tears slip out from his tear ducts.

“I’ll miss you too, more than you know,” Jackson was bawling openly, his hands tangled into the fabric of Jooheon’s sweater.

Jinyoung and Mark stood behind Jackson, their bags in hand, and arms linked together as they waited for the younger to finish saying goodbye.

Jooheon swiped his sleeve across his nose. “I’ll miss all three of you. You guys wereーare some of the truest friends I’ve ever had. I’m sad to see you go.”

Jackson laughed and pulled Jooheon into his embrace. “This isn’t goodbye forever. You still have to come to the wedding. And when Kihyun-hyung is having tours in the States, you’re going to be with him so you can visit us at our place in LA with Mark’s parents.”

“And if I don’t?” Jooheon smiled through his tears, having given up on the pretense of pretending not to cry.

“I’ll murder your firstborn. Don’t test me. I expect yearly visits and if you don’t come to me, then I’m coming to you, you ass,” Jackson’s threat was empty and both men knew it, but Jooheon played along anyways.

“Why would you murder your god child? You are one heartless son of a bitch.”

Jackson slapped his arm playfully. “Shut up. I would never murder anyone, let alone my god chーOh my god. My god child . Are you serious?”

“Of course. Who else is going to teach my future child about the dangers of hair dye and not matching their clothing?”

“I love you.”

“I love you just as much.”

They stood before one another for a few silent moments until Jinyoung coughed awkwardly behind them and Jooheon pulled Jackson in for one last hug before he let go.

“I have to go.”

“I know,” Jooheon hesitated before continuing. “I’m sorry the others couldn’t make it. All of them were busy with something that involved the surprise that Changkyun got me.”

But Jackson only gave him an amused smile in return. “Oh, no. They’re here.”

“What?”

“Look behind you, Joohoney.”

When he turned, Jooheon wept harder than he ever had before.

Because there, waiting for him to notice them, were his soulmates. All of them.

“Holy shit,” Jooheon whispered under his breath, then turned back to face Jackson again with silent tears streaming down his face. “You knew?”

Jackson smiled and nodded. “We all knew.”

“I can’t believe you guys did this,” Jooheon shook his head, a wide grin plastered across his face.

“Well, believe it. We did it and there’s nothing you can do but go to them. I’ll see you at the wedding, yeah?”

Jooheon nodded and forcefully pulled Jackson into his arms one last time. “Thank you. Take care, Jacky. You’ll always be my best friend.”

“And you mine. Goodbye, Joohoney.”

Jooheon watched Jackson walk away. He watched as his best friend took the hands that his soulmates held out to him and Jooheon smiled because they were happy and that was all he wished for his best friend to have.

And then he turned and ran towards his own soulmates, throwing himself into Changkyun’s arms. Not reacting when an all too familiar flash of light and a bang rang out around them and Jooheon felt the telltale burn on his arm. He pulled back to compare their tattoos and cried because Changkyun’s arm already had the nest tattooed on it. Now the single black bird was perched in its nest, finally at home.

The others converged on them and then everyone was touching him. There was no flash of light or a bang, but they all felt the burn on their arms when they simultaneously touched Jooheon.

Jooheon pulled back to look at his arm and took notice of the new additions. There was a sky now in the background, littered with tons of tiny stars. It was him, looking over the others and making sure they all coexisted peacefully. His soulmates all had Jooheon’s tattoo, the forest floor, the stag, the trees, the moon, the nest, the bird, and the stars. Their tattoos were finally pieced together because together was when they were the most vulnerable, but it was also when they were the strongest.

And to think, all it had taken for them to be interconnected for the rest of their lives was for the bird to return back to its nest.

  Jooheon rocked his hips and relished in the moan that Changkyun gave out. He could plainly hear Hoseok and Hyungwon in the shower, having some fun, but the sounds of Minhyuk’s moan from the living room couch seemed to be louder. Of course it was understandable though, it was the first time that Minhyuk had bottomed, and he was doing it for Hyunwoo.

But at the moment, none of that really mattered because it was him and it was Changkyun underneath him, the younger’s fingers digging into his hips as Jooheon set up a slow pace. Changkyun’s moans were breathy, and quiet and they were oh-so-pretty and Jooheon bit his lip to keep from moaning aloud because all he wanted was to hear the younger slowly unravel beneath him.

Then Changkyun was pulling his chest down so they bumped against one another and whispered in his ear, “I want to hear you.”

So Jooheon obliged and let out the whimper that’d been stuck in his throat for the past half hour or so. Changkyun smiled at the noise, nosed a trail along Jooheon’s collarbones and rocked his hips, eliciting a drawn out moan from the elder.

Kihyun entered the room then, his shirt already off and working on his briefs. He climbed into the bed beside them and grabbed the container of lube that they’d discarded. He covered his fingers in it then leaned in close, curving himself around Jooheon’s back.

“Joohoney,” Kihyun practically moaned in his ear because the sight of Changkyun’s thick cock buried deep within Jooheon was such a sight to behold. “Mind if I join?”

“No,” Jooheon moaned, his hips moving tantalizingly slow against Changkyun. “P-Please do.”

Kihyun smiled and pressed a kiss to the younger’s shoulder blade before he leaned down to swiftly kiss Changkyun’s lips. He pulled back and settled himself on Changkyun’s calves, watching for a moment while the younger slowly rocked himself into Jooheon. He slid a lubed finger into Jooheon’s stuffed hole, right alongside Changkyun’s cock, and shivered when Jooheon let out the most delicious sounding noise he’d ever heard.

He curled his finger and practically drooled at the crude sound that Jooheon made. While Changkyun slowly oscillated himself into Jooheon, Kihyun gradually got three fingers into him working alongside Changkyun’s cock. Then he slipped in a fourth finger and Jooheon thought he lost his sanity.

Everything felt so good and he was so full. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes when Kihyun flexed his fingers inside him, scissoring him open and rubbing against his prostate with Changkyun’s cock beside them, driving deeper and deeper into him. He whined when Kihyun pulled his fingers out, but soon let out a choked moan because he could feel every, single centimeter of Kihyun’s cock as it in slid in beside Changkyun’s.

“Oh fuー” Jooheon cried, his hands scrambling for purchase on Changkyun’s shoulders, his ass poised in the air with not one, but two of his soulmates’ dicks in him.

They stopped moving for a moment, allowing Jooheon to get used to the feeling of them both in him then moved when Jooheon whined and forcibly pushed his hips down on them both.

Changkyun and Kihyun moaned when they moved at the same time and rubbed against each other. Inside Jooheon it was tight and hot and slicked up with lube, but it was all bare skin against bare skin and Jooheon’s veins felt on fire.

The two rocked themselves into him and set up a fast rhythm when they rubbed against Jooheon’s prostate. Tears were streaming down Jooheon’s face and he was so close, so fucking close he could just see it. He could see the orgasm that was waiting for him.

Changkyun came first, with a shout of Jooheon’s name. His eyes were pinched closed and his body felt like jelly as Jooheon and Kihyun continued to move, chasing their own orgasms.

Kihyun came right after, his eyes half open and a whisper of Changkyun’s name on his lips. His entire body was on fire and Jooheon was still moving, his ass clenching tight on both Changkyun and Kihyun’s cocks.

Then Jooheon came, seeing blinding white, and a mantra of both Kihyun and Changkyun’s names emitting from his lips. He was so goddamn in love with them, all of them and it was in these blissful moments after an orgasm that Jooheon really understood the depth of his love for them all.

All three men collapsed side by side, Changkyun and Kihyun curling around Jooheon, murmuring words into his ears. Changkyun cleaned them up and Kihyun took it upon himself to mark Jooheon’s collarbones with red and purples flowers.

“We love you so much. You did so well taking us both, Joohoney,” they spoke almost simultaneously and Jooheon was justーout of it.

“You brought us all together and we love you so much.”

Jooheon made a happy-sounding whimper and nuzzled himself into Kihyun’s chest.

The world was bright and he was happy and then his other four lovers were crawling into the bed beside them, kissing him, hugging him, touching him. Jooheon smiled and knew that his plan for dinner was going to be the most biggest and best decision he would ever make.

Even with knowing that it was what he wanted, Jooheon was still a mumbling, shaky mess that had whispered his question at first.

“What?” Minhyuk asked.

But Jooheon was frozen, he couldn't open his mouth. So instead he stood up from his chair at the table and dropped down onto one knee.

“Oh my god,” Hyungwon gasped beside him.

“Is heー?” Hoseok couldn't bring himself to finish.

“Yeah, he is,” Hyunwoo murmured, his gaze soft.

“Holy shit,” Kihyun let out, his eyes hilariously wide.

Except Jooheon wasn't laughing. He was sweating in his ripped jeans and black jumper. He was on one knee, staring expectantly at them all, his jaw locked and hands uselessly by his side.

“So are you just gonna keep kneeling or are you going to ask us to marry you, hyung?” Changkyun smirked, his gaze tender and tone teasing.

Jooheon’s arms moved by themselves, but he was relieved when the box he’d stored under the table was being dragged out by his hands. Then it was opened and there lay the seven rings Jooheon had bought.

Finally, he was able to speak again when he caught the gazes of the others.

“W-Will you marry m-me?” He stuttered, but he was sure there was nothing more he wanted than them.

“Yes!” Minhyuk practically threw himself over the table and into Jooheon’s lap, settling himself into the embrace of the first man who’d stuck by his side.

Jooheon looked towards the others, pulling out Minhyuk’s ring and sliding it onto the elder’s finger as he did.

Hyunwoo kneeled beside him and nodded, letting Jooheon slide his ring on his finger as well. There were tears in his eyes, but he said nothing as he kissed the younger breathless.

“Of course,” Hyungwon smiled, pressing his lips to Jooheon’s forehead as he sat down beside him, grinning happily when he got his ring.

“Fuck yeah I’ll marry you!” Hoseok jumped at them, his long arms encircling the four men on the floor and waited patiently for Jooheon to put his ring on him as well.

Then Kihyun stepped up and kissed them all before he nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

After Kihyun’s ring was slid onto his finger, all six men stared at Changkyun, waiting for a response.

Changkyun fidgeted, shaking a bit with nerves, but the smile he gave Jooheon was soft and filled to the brim with affection.

“I don't know why we wouldn't marry you, but since you're asking, then yeah, of course I'll marry you, hyung,” Changkyun coughed out, his face blazing as he plopped down beside them on the floor.

When Jooheon slid the second to last ring onto Changkyun’s finger, the others struggled over putting the last ring in the box on Jooheon’s finger. Somehow they managed though and Jooheon, well, Jooheon was happy.

Though maybe not as happy as Jackson was when Jooheon facetimed him to inform his best friend of the engagement.

But still, Jooheon was happy enough and that was what counted.

  It was at age five that he first learned of soulmates.

It was at age eight when he met his first soulmate and at age twenty six when he met his last.

And yeah, people finding their soulmates was pretty rare. It wasn’t unheard of, but it did at one point almost vanish completely. And then it began back up again, different than the last time. People had different types of soulmates. Others had multiple. Some had none. Most still found their soulmate through the tattoo method, and the tattoo method still varied by person. Some people had their soulmate’s name tattooed across their ribs from birth. Some only acquired a matching tattoo, accompanied by a flash of light, when they met their soulmate. And others received a colored tattoo when they met their platonic soulmates. People could end up with a platonic soulmate, a romantic one, both, or none at all. Nothing was set in stone and soulmates were complicated, but that didn’t deter twenty eight year old Lee Jooheon from lying in bed every night with his six husbands who he loved so.

Lee Jooheon had met his soulmates by accident, sure, but maybe that was just how it was meant to be.

And Jooheon wasn’t going to complain because in the end, all of his birds were perched safely in the nest that was his heart.

[pitiless-achilles-wept]

"You Don't Look Sick": Privilege and the (In)visibility of Illness

Today I left the hospital as a cyborg! I was there to have a chemotherapy port implanted, making me part human part machine, so now if I write academic pieces about the "post-human" or "human-machine hybrid" I'll be speaking from personal experience. More significant for me, though, is that this relatively small piece of metal and plastic is the first truly visible sign of illness that I have. It makes my body legible as "sick." Cancer is insidious for a lot of reasons, most of which can be boiled down to how good it is at hiding. Cancer cells evade the body's natural detection and elimination system, sneaking around and amassing quietly. But also, people with cancer frequently don't "look sick" at all. In fact, I had been looking healthier than any time in recent memory. I had finally gotten to a place of stability in my personal and professional life (after years of crisis after crisis that left me devastated) and gotten back to running and occasional yoga. I felt so much better. I had shaken much of the bone-weariness of depression and the chronic fatigue that had dogged me since my grad school years. (Still no explanation on that one, by the way, but it was serious enough that it left me with sky-high white blood cell numbers that warranted an investigation for cancer in 2016...which I did not have then.) I was feeling undeniably and pleasurably healthy! I was not. I had stage 4 cancer the whole time I felt I was healing, improving, flourishing. It causes pretty extreme cognitive dissonance for me to think about that, as I know it did (and probably does) for many people in my life, especially those who went through much or all of the past 18 months with me. I remember saying to a friend who I'd met about 9 months prior, "I've had cancer the entire time you've known me," and both of us doing some stunned blinking as that fact sank in. All those things I did with cancer--buying a house, meeting new people, traveling to new places, going hiking, giving papers, going swimming, playing pool, drinking in bars, losing at pub trivia--all of them done while I was unknowingly harboring this disease. It was, in a very literal sense of the term, incredible.  [More thoughts and some pics beneath the cut]

Truthfully, though, even since I have known about having cancer I haven't "looked sick" at all. As I've continued to live my life as usual (or maybe even with a little more urgency and intensity than normal) I've seen people who know about my diagnosis maybe squint a little, to see if they can see a way it makes me different. From afar, it certainly does not. From closer, it also mostly doesn't. The only time I notice any impairment, honestly, is in the slight shortness of breath that I get from the lesions in my lungs. And even that only takes me back to the walking pace of a normal human instead of a long-legged ex-New Yorker. I imagine people I see every day might go through cycles of forgetting and remembering, as I comment on what's going on in my life. People who don't know about my diagnosis absolutely cannot tell that I'm sick and, with them, I face the choice between answering questions about how I'm doing honestly ("pretty well, given the circumstances, but the circumstances are terrible") or continuing the social forms and responding without really engaging. For what it's worth, I usually do the latter because the emotional work of telling people, over and over, about your serious illness is considerable. I may not have a choice much longer, though, as signs of my disease become more visible and more legible. (There's another post in here about illness and politeness, which perhaps I'll get back to later. But suffice it to say that if I owe you a thank-you note or a reply email I am very aware of it and also paralyzed with inability to do anything about it and I'm sorry.) This is, I think, much more what women fear about losing their hair. I've seen it interpreted as more like vanity, and I'm a little guilty of believing that when I was first diagnosed. I thought, "I don't care THAT much about my appearance so I won't care about the hair thing as much." But now that I have more context I feel like it's more that having no hair is a marker of extreme difference from the norm of what women look like.When men are bald there's a lot more of a chance that it's something natural and that they would choose to wear it that way. When women even have short hair--which I have for a couple years now--it's a little unusual. Choosing to be bald would be even more extreme so that covering up baldness with the inevitable headscarf itself reads as a sign of cancer. (Of course there are other discussions to be had here about the norms of masculinity vs. femininity...) I'm also camouflaged by my age, which is so young for this disease that it's not what people immediately think of. (Yet another post I could write would be about the similarity of many chemo symptoms to pregnancy and the assumptions that leads to.) Even my decision to dye my hair purple (which has now mostly washed out, making me a bleach blonde on top with purple underneath) reads purely as a fashion choice. And there's even a tiny chance that even if I go bald people will think of that as fashion too. Because another way in which I don't read as "sick" has to do with the privilege I've always enjoyed from the "halo effect"--being tall and having naturally good bone structure, thick hair, and just generally "good genes" (until they gave me cancer!). If you do have a look like that which lets you look "high fashion" it's far more plausible that you might choose to wear various hair colors, or a series of wigs, or be totally bald just to experiment with your looks than if you don't. What's more, pretty people, in general, don't fit our concept of illness. It's not just that we don't think sick people generally look "pretty", but that we tend to assume pretty people are also healthy. So I've been riding that wave of privilege too. But it's all about to change. And while I'm a little ashamed at how worried I am about not reading as "pretty" to a general public (it's hard to give up privileges), I'm also interested to see how my experience changes as I lose some of those standard beauty hallmarks. This port I have is small - about the size of a quarter - and it sits just below my collarbone. A catheter runs up from it into a vein in my neck. It is not easily concealed by most regular outfits, even though it certainly doesn't draw attention to itself. I asked the surgeon today whether it would be visible to and she said that, "since you're so skinny," it absolutely would. She also told me she was taking extra time with the sutures since "you have such beautiful skin that I want to minimize the scarring." The nurses wheeling me into the OR commented on how long my legs were, how great my hair looked. They were being nice to me because I am in a tough position, certainly, and it is comforting. I'm sure they say kind things to whoever they are caring for. But probably not those things. Even here, there is privilege. I'm intrigued, though a little intimidated, by the ways in which the treatment process will necessitate that I rethink "beauty" for myself. I've been able to more or less meet the basic cultural standards without trying basically my whole life. That's not a brag - that's my good luck. And please don't get me wrong: I have certainly have had my own share of insecurities and gone through phases of truly hating my body and my appearance. (The way we feel about ourselves and how we look is seldom logical or altered by observable facts or even external validation.) But now I have a whole series of changes facing my body that make me realize how very comfortable in it I have been and how much of it I have taken for granted, both in its capabilities and in its appearance. It will be a difficult part of this process. And although I feel trepidation I do also somewhat look forward to the ways I will be forced to re-conceive of my body--of what it is and what it can do. The past few days had beautiful weather here so I allowed myself to go running. I had worried that this was something that, while having chemo, I should not do. But thinking about what I would ask of my body in the coming months made me decide that I should think of it as an ally; that we should work together to expel this invader. To do that, I needed to work with it to be strong, not treat the whole body itself as either an enemy or a passive vehicle. I'm not allowed to run for another week thanks to the surgery, but I'll be doing what I can.   As academics, we often forget them or regard them as a hindrance. More than once, I've wished and heard others wish to be a "brain in a box." My friends: no. Do not do this. Our bodies are incredible, truly. Give them some range and let's see what they can do.

[shinjekinootp]

The Angry Coffee Shop

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationship: Levi/Eren Yeager Tags: Platonic Hange Zoë & Levi, Based on a Tumblr Post, Drunk Sleepy cute Levi, Domestic Fluff, Mainly focused on Drunk Brootp Levihan, With some cute Ereri in the background Summary:  Eren comes back late from work to an unusual scene. Levi passed out on the floor, surrounded by empty bottles, spilled chips, and a notebook reading: Flat white: Fuck you 

*based on the Angry Coffe Shop meme from Tumblr*

You can read it here or on AO3

“Ugh, I’m so thirsty.”

Levi rolls his eyes “You’re literally in a coffee shop, just get yourself something to drink.”

“Not that kind of thirst dummy. I’m thirsty for booze. Customers have been complete assholes today. I need to get shitface. For my mental health.”

“That does sounds pretty good,” he says, giving a final sweep to the counter. “Your place or my place?” Hanji doesn’t get the chance to reply before Levi is speaking again. “Let’s go to mine. The shithole you dare to call an apartment is dirty enough when you expect me to come over.”

Forty-five minutes later, they are sitting on Levi’s couch, a glass of red wine in their hands, the coffee table crawling under various snacks.

“Sometimes I wonder how we make it through the day without murdering anyone,” Hanji begins. “How hard can it be to order a drink without being a pain in the ass? You wait in line for your turn, order something from the board, pay, and wait patiently for it to be ready.”

“Erwin doesn’t pay us nearly enough to deal with those shit head all days,” Levi agrees. He empties his glass and pours himself a new one. He makes the red liquid swirl and takes a sip of it. He savors the bitter taste, as Hanji digs into a bag of chips.

I swear to god, if I found any crumble on my floor-”

“Yea I know, you’ll make me lick it until it’s clean again,” they dismiss him, taking a handful of doritos.

“And clean it with bleach right after. Spit is gross.”

Hanji laughter fills the room. “Where’s pretty boy uh? I thought he’d be here.”

“I don’t know. Probably still at work” He looks at his phone, and sure enough there is a text from Eren informing him he’s staying overtime and not to wait for him.

“Let’s play a game!” Hanji suddenly screams.

Levi frowns “No strip poker this time. I don’t think I can take the sight of you wearing nothing but your glasses one more time. Plus I had to get rid of my rug after you dirty  butt sat on it.”

“I will let you know my butt is very clean. Petra can vouch.”

A giggle escapes Levi’s lips. Under normal circumstances he would be concerned by that. But with the alcohol running through his veins, his clouded mind doesn't care.

“So the game is simple. We both tell a story about a bitchy customer we had, and the one who has encountered the biggest prick wins.”

Levi tilts his head to the side.“Isn’t that basically complaining, though? We’re already doing it all the time. That’s hardly a game.”

Hanji is thoughtful for a moment before they clap their hand victoriously “I know! Each time one of us wins a round; they have to take a shot. That should spice things up.”

“Alright” Levi says, slumping to the ground and reaching for the bottle, a smirk on his lips “Game on then.”

Hanji laughter echoes through the room as they struggle to form words. “This- This is priceless, how come you’ve never told me about it before?”

“Didn’t want to risk Erwin hearing about it,” he downs his shot in one swift motion, barely grimacing as the liquid burn his throat.“It’s not like I’m actually the manager.”

Hanji rolls on their back, as a new fit of laughter shakes their body. “I would give anything, to see the lady’s face when you’ve spun around.”

“It was quite the sight to behold,” he refills his glass, while Hanji straightens up their glasses threatening to fall of their nose.

“Once I had this lady coming in, she kept stressing out how important it was that her drink was dairy free -and I get it, lactose intolerance is a pain in the ass- she was watching my every move like a hawk. When I handed her her drink, she freaking asked me why I didn’t put whipped cream on top of it. I had to explain her that yes, whipped cream contains dairy, but she would not believe me. I ended up putting a shit ton on top of her damn frappuccino and I hope she got diarrhea from it.”

“What a bitch” Levi snorts.

“Alright your turn, what do you have in stock?”

He hums thoughtfully, distractingly playing with a the edge of a pillow.

“They were this one time, when a girl went batchit crazy on me for drawing a heart in her latte. She screamed at me that she had a boyfriend, and that she was so fed up with men hitting on her.”

“Did you? Drew a heart in her latte I mean.”

“No, I did draw something, but it was not a heart. Not from my perspective that is.”Levi smirks amusement glinting into his eyes.

Hanji seems confused for a split second before they exclaim.“Oh my god Levi! Did you draw an ass in that girl drink?”

“I most certainly did,” he replies with a toothy grin. “It was the day when Eren came back from his family trip. All I could think about was that glorious ass of his.”

“You’re the worst.”

Levi shrugs and slides a shot towards them before pouring one for himself. “That’s a draw,” he solemnly declares.

They empty their glasses and sigh contentedly almost in perfect synchronization.

“You know what really is the worst kind of customer ?” Hanji hiccups.

He raises a thin eyebrow at them.

“Those who are unable to remember the name of the drinks. If they got their orders wrong, it’s not my problem. Learn to fucking read you moron!”

“I couldn’t remember the name of the drink when I began,” Levi giggles.“Eren had to help me study the menu. He even made cards and all that shit.”

They shake their head “You’re a lucky idiot you know that?”

Levi nods. He does know how lucky he is to have a boyfriend like him.

“In my defense,” he begins“the name of the drinks makes zero sense. Why did Erwin have to go for the fancy hipster shit name? ‘large black’ that’s easy to remember. But Americano? Frappuccino? Freaking Macchiato? It gives zero clue about what the drink actually is.”

“That’s how they’re called,” Hanji looks at him skeptically  “That’s pretty standard actually.”

“Well, the standard sucks.” Levi says, slamming his fist on the table.

“What would you call them then?” They ask, eyes glinting in amusement.

“I dunno,” Levi frowns.“Something meaningful.”

They tilt their head to the side.“Like what? It’s not like you could describe the recipe of the drink. That would be way too long.”

He reaches for the bag of chips, and munches slowly. Hanji observes him pulling his eyebrows together, creating small line between them. He’s so deep in thoughts he doesn’t notice them snatching a picture of what they consider to be an ‘Accidentally cute Levi.’

“Hangover,” he blurts out.

“We certainly will be tomorrow, but don’t worry we still have time.”

“No,” he throws the bag of chips out of his lap, spilling it on the ground.“The name of the drink, it should be Hungover.”

“Lemme guess, a strong black coffee?”

“Triple espresso of the less bitter coffee we have,” He grins.

They smile cheerfully.“What else do you have?”

“I’m Studying For My Finals. Double espresso with a dash of vanilla. Because you both need energy and comfort.”

“Why not make it a triple, though?”

Levi shakes his head.“Because when studying for their final, student drink coffee all day. With a double they can still get that energy shot multiples time a day without intoxicating themselves. Also, it’s refillable.”

“This is good!” Hanji shouts excitedly. They scramble up to their feet and run to their bag, pulling out a notebook. “Alright keeps going, we gotta keep track of this.”

“Babe?” Eren calls upon entering the apartment. Despite the late hour, he knows Levi isn’t asleep. He goes in the living room, expecting him to be sitting on the couch, tucked into a blanket, enjoying a his tea. But instead he’s met with what looks like a warzone. Two empty bottles of wine, one who has rolled up to the ground, another bottle of what looks like tequila, empty for the most part, chips, chips everywhere, on the table, on the carpet, on the couch, and finally Levi, sleeping peacefully on the ground, crumbs all over his hair.

“What the fuck,” Eren whispers to himself. He walks up to Levi and picks the notebook next to him. It reads:

Large Americano: Not A Morning Person

Tea: The Only Valid Drink

Flat White: Fuck You

Vanilla soy latte no foam extra shot: I’d Like To Speak To The Manager

Double espresso with vanilla sirup: Studying For My Final

Iced coffee: Hoe Never Gets Cold

Pumpkin spice latte: Spooky Season

Latte, extra shot: Stayed Up Too Late Looking At Memes

Peppermint latte: Basic Bitch

“Hey Eren!”

The cheery voice of Hanji interrupts his reading.

“Hey,” he tentatively greets them.“What’s going on ? And what is this?” He asks shaking the notebook in his hand.

“Just a thing for a work,” they say, wiggling their eyebrows mysteriously.

“So, you’re telling me, this was a work meeting?”

“Guess you could put it like that,” They chuckle.“I was just about to clean up. Would you take care of sleepy-head over here?” They point at Levi with their chin.

It’s Eren’s turn to laugh. “You cleaning, and Levi passing out. That’s a first.”

He bends down and gently dusts the crumbs off Levi’s hair, before carrying him to their bedroom.

“They don’t know what's awaiting them,” Levi mumbles, as he undresses him.

“Hum what was that? What’s awaiting who?”

“Karen, Margaret, Susan and all the other.”

“Alright babe,” he chuckles.“Go get them.”

He makes sure Levi is well tuck in, and not at risk at falling off bed. He makes a move to leave, but a hand on his forearm stops him.

Levi cracks a lid open “Stay.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to leave Hanji alone in the living room?”

“Hmph, what are they gonna do? It’s already a mess anyway,” he tucks on his arm, nearly yanking him off his feets.

“Alright, alright,” Eren surrenders. He quickly takes off his shoes and clothes, throwing them in a corner of the room. As soon as he lies down, Levi rolls to his sides, resting his head on his chest. He’s already drifting back to sleep, soothed by the hand gently stroking his hair.

“Good morning! What can I get you?”

“Flat white. Large. Quickly, I’m in a hurry.”

“Fuck you,” Hanji says, a shit eating grin on their face.

“Excuse you?” The woman says, outrage evident in her voice. “What did you just say to me?”

“Fuck You,” They repeat, their smile growing impossibly wide. “That’s the name of the drink you’ve order.”

A displease frown appears on the woman face. “I’d like to speak to the manager.”

“Sure thing, Coming right up!” They grab a cup. “May I have a name?” The woman stares at her, confusion written all over her face. “I bet it’s Sharon,” they say writing it down. “You look like a Sharon.”

Hanji turns around, and quickly prepares the drink. The woman said she was in a rush after all.

“Here you go! That’ll be $5 please.”

“What is this?”

“What you’ve order Ma’am. A Vanilla soy latte with  no foam and extra shot.” They answer with a mischievous smile.

“I didn’t order this,” she nearly shouts. “Are you deaf? I said that I’d like to speak to the manager!”

“Yea… that’s the name of the drink Ma’am.” They point at the board above their head.

Her face reddens as she opens her mouth, but Hanji cuts her off before she has the chance to speak.

“You better go now, Sharon. You’re holding the line.”

The woman furiously slaps a $5 bill on the counter, and stalks away.

Levi blinks, mouth hanging agape.“That was amazing,” he fights the urge to claps.

“Thank you, thank you. But you nearly deserve all the credit. You’re the one that came up with this idea.”

“How did you get Erwin’s approval?” he asks incredulity in his voice.

“Eh, well, I didn’t,” they answer, rubbing the back of their neck. “I just came in early and re-write the boards.”

Levi shakes his head, chuckling. Of course Hanji would do that without their boss permission. “Guess I’ll have a new co-worker by the end of the week then.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that short-stuff.” A devilish smile on their face Hanji takes out their phone. “See one of the ‘soccer moms’ I’ve served this morning wasn’t too happy with our new menu. So she took the whole story to twitter and even made a petition to close up the place.” They slide their phone on the counter.“And it blew up! But not in the way she expected. Everyone is loving the idea. The so-called ‘angry coffee shop’ is the new place to be! We’ve been packed with customers all day.”

“Speaking of which, some help would be much appreciated Hanji!” A panicked voice calls from behind them.

“Don’t worry Moblit. You got this!” They say waving their hand dismissively at him. They focus back on Levi and frown. “What’s wrong Levi? I thought you would be happy.”

He raises his head from his hand and whispers, eyes wide “We’re gonna have to deal with even more customers.”